#I WILL DRAW THE REQUESTS!! ive just wanted to scribble this out for a while

[paradimeart]

megazarak

[opens-up-4-nobody]

Anyone have any drawing requests?

[dreamties]

Little! Brahms Heelshire x CG! GN! Reader (Headcanons)

A/n- requested by the ever so darling 🍰 anon!

ii whipped these up pretty quick- but if any of yall have questions or your own headcanons you'd like to share- i'd be happy to converse and build upon his character for future stuff :3 (if that makes sense-)

sorry for any mistakes its one AM lol

DNI NSFW

brahms regresses for comfort !!

he likes being a kid again. pretending things are like they were before everything went awful. before he killed that little girl. before the fire.

brahms doesnt really like using "baby" items when regressing. like pacis, teethers, rattles, sensory stuff, etc. it just doesnt appeal to him.

Brahms still has a few of his old toys in his room though. little plastic dinos. trains and planes. he's content playing on the floor or on his bed by himself- but he'd much rather have you play him!! its way more fun with you :(

he loves to carry his little brahms doll around with him !! he keeps it tucked in his arm. and even when he's in the room, has you set up a spot for it at the table. "my friends need respect too, y/n!"

another thing he likes, is sleeping with his old baby blanket. usually holding it in his grasp as he sucks on his thumb.

back to the doll thing real quick. just imagine having tea parties with your little one and his doll <3 so cute >///<

despite all the nice things ive talked about, there's often a lot more negative triggers for him to slip into littlespace. and it can be really rough calming him down and getting him to do something nice for himself.

he isnt great at regulating his emotions. so when he gets upset, he'll throw a fit. which then will likely end up with him getting so frustrated that he starts crying and just runs into your arms for comfort.

oh, theres another thing! while some littles tend to shy away from physical comfort (unsure of how to get it and not feeling like they deserve it, etc). but little Brahmsy just wants the reassuring feeling of being safely nestled in your arms. that always help to calm him down some.

you'll need to aid in the process with some gentle words towards him, and later, when he's back in his regular headspace- you'll have to let him know it's not alright to throw a tantrum every time he's upset or doesnt get his way. but also help him find better ways to deal with that.

speaking of which- I think he'd enjoy and benefit from keeping a little journal.

Brahms already writes during his free time. but in his little journal he's got these silly little scribbly drawings of you and him, and of his favorite food and writes about things that he likes.

keeping like a sticker chart for him. so when he like helps you out with chores or does something really nice for you- he gets rewarded with a sticker. and once it's filled up, Brahms gets a special surprise :O

he's definitely a lot clingier !! if thats...even physically possible lol.

he loves following you around while you do house stuff. and getting in between you and the laundry you need to fold, cause he wants you to pay attention to him and you just ruffle his hair. "why dont you help your mama/papa/etc with this, and then we can play. how does that sound, baby?"

and laying with his head in your lap, peaking over at the book in your hands as you read aloud. holding your hand as you move to your next set of chores. asking you to help him move his chair closer to yours during mealtime.

all in all though, while some of the activities he does while regressed is different and he's a hell of a lot sweeter when tiny- there's not too much difference to how he is big. he can be a handful still, but you love him. and its worth it <3

[vannahfanfics]

Dawn and Dusk Part V

Before you read, here’s Part I, Part II, Part III, and Part IV!

Category: Romantic Fluff, Angst

Fandom: Yona of the Dawn

Characters: Soo-Won, Yona

Requested by: @lilc77​ (Tumblr)

Hey, friend! I hope you’re ready for more YonaWon! This is for the first of the batch that you requested for the theme “sexual tension and desire.” I thought it would fit perfectly within my ongoing “Dawn and Dusk” series of oneshots, so I hope you enjoy the latest installment!

The study echoed with gentle flip of pages. Yona sat among the towering tomes, her legs tucked primly underneath her so the thick, leather-bound book could rest on her thighs. Her dawn-colored eyes scoured the printed words carefully, though in the back of her mind, she doubted that a biological survey of Kouka Kingdom’s bird species would prove fruitful in her endeavor. Though she knew nothing would be hidden in the text, she entertained herself for a few moments more with the detailed illustrations of the songbirds and descriptions of their behavior. She got like this from time to time, looking for escape in the useless paragraphs after yet another day of finding nothing. 

Her fingertips skimmed over the inked drawing of a finch, its feathers painted in brilliant watercolor hues. The “sunrise finch,” it was nicknamed, not only for its brilliant red and yellow plumage, but also its propensity to be the first of the indigenous birds to rise. It awoke in the mere minutes before dawn to herald the oncoming sun with sweet tunes of the morning. Yet as the golden sun spilled across the trees, it would fall silent, its beautiful song swallowed up by the dawn chorus of other birds. Brief and fleeting, like the sunrise it worshipped. 

Yona wondered if that was her fate, to be brief and fleeting like the dawn. 

Sighing, she closed the book and replaced it on the shelf. Rather than grab another from the small stack beside her, she sat there a moment, reaching back to massage the flesh of her shoulder. Though soaking in the bath— however brief that was thanks to her surprise encounter with Soo-Won— had improved the strain significantly, she still found it twinging throughout the day. Perhaps I should retire early and give it some rest, she wondered, but looking down at the books next to her, Yona knew that would not happen. She had to keep searching, searching for any clues to the puzzle that existed between herself and Soo-Won. 

She turned to the window, where the moonlight streamed in to bathe the study in white, at least where the soft yellow light of the lantern beside her could not reach. She wondered if there was a bird that also called to the setting sun and rising moon. Did it mourn the loss of the sun, or did it welcome the appearance of the stars and night sky? Perhaps there was no bird at all, but a king’s fanfare is close enough, she supposed. Dusk had ruled this land ever since her father’s death, as the pale moon sat upon the throne, merely reflecting the light of the sun. A false light, but, did that mean it was no less worthy? She wondered that as she gazed at the sliver of moon hanging low in the sky. Dusk, dawn… It was all light, wasn’t it, chasing away the darkness? 

Who am I to truly say which is better? Yona thought with a sigh, looking back down at her lap. She felt her eyes begin to burn with the familiar sensation of salty tears brewing in the ducts. She often got this way when the watchful nights closed in, cast in light only by her flickering lantern. Everything was still so confusing; she knew not what path to take, what she should do for her people. It was maddeningly frustrating. She really only knew one thing these days, and that is that she still loved Soo-Won, achingly so, despite everything that had happened. 

The first tear slipped down her cheek just as the door to the study opened. Yona quickly swept it away with the sleeve of her kimono as Soo-Won walked in, a look of mild surprise on his face. 

“Ah. You’re still here? It’s awfully late.” 

“I could say the same to you,” she said, but not icily. “I wanted to look through another book or so before finishing up for the night. What about you?” she asked as he navigated through the stacks upon stacks of volumes covering the floor and sat at his small desk. He picked up his quill with a tut, uncapping the inkwell and dipping the pointed tip of the writing utensil into the black muck. 

“I have some reports that I have not yet read or signed off on,” he explained, skimming the contents of the first page before scribbling his signature on the bottom. He set it aside for the ink to dry, then began reading the next. 

Yona looked back to her stack of books, knowing that she should pick one up, but her desire to investigate any further had suddenly vanished. She looked back to the shelf, then stood to retrieve the book of bird species. She flipped back to the page about the sunrise finch, then slowly walked over to Soo-Won. He glanced up when she approached, then looked down at the open book in her hands. 

“Soo-Won… Have you ever seen this bird?” She turned it around so he could see the illustration. He studied it for a moment, then nodded. 

“Yes… They actually nest in the palace gardens,” he explained, and looked up when Yona gasped in delight. How had she never known such a gorgeous bird had a home in the plants right outside her window? Well… It wasn’t exactly often that she found herself up before dawn. However, that would soon change. She would wake up first thing tomorrow to catch a glimpse of this bird. 

“Thank you. I’ll leave you to your paperwork,” Yona said, then looked down at the bird and its brilliant sunrise plumage. She wondered if it would be as stunning in person. She was sure it would be. The anticipation brought a smile to her face, and so she replaced the book on the shelf. The sooner she got to sleep, the sooner the dawn would come. 

Soo-Won spoke as she headed to the door. 

“You were crying.” 

She stiffened. He had seen? She’d thought she’d been slick. She could feel his aqua eyes boring into her back, making warmth spread all over her back. His stare beckoned her like a siren call; she was helpless to his song, causing her to turn slowly around to face him. His expression wasn’t judgmental, not that she had expected it to be in the first place— it was sad, or guilty, even. 

He turned in his chair so he could hold his hand out to her. Entranced by that silent magnetic melody, Yona’s body moved of its own accord; she crossed the room to take his outstretched hand. His touch was soft as his fingers moved over hers, giving just the slightest tug to pull Yona until she was standing in front of him. He reached up with his free hand to brush over the tear stains she’d thought she’d scrubbed away, ghosting over the slightly reddened skin with a heartbroken look. 

“How is your shoulder?” Such an innocent question so at odds with the way his fingers skipped down to her shoulder, fingertips inching under her kimono to brush over the skin. She tried not to twitch at the electricity that shot through her nerves. Her body was stunned, electrified by his ministrations, but her tongue seemed to work just fine. 

“It’s better.” 

He didn’t say anything, just tilted his head while continuing to massage the top of her shoulder. Her heart thumped against her chest as her kimono sleeve slipped fully off her shoulder, exposing her upper arm and even the barest hint of the curve of her breast. Soo-Won’s eyes flickered up to hers, inspecting the minute twitches of her fate for discomfort. He didn’t find any, because why would he? By now, he knew the depths of Yona’s feelings, the way she yearned for his touch despite everything that had happened. 

When did his other arm snake around her hips? It had circled around her without her knowing, so she gasped when she felt him pull her forward until she bumped against his knees. He quirked a brow— a silent invitation. She bit down on her lip, debating. 

Would any good come from yielding to her desires? She should focus on ferreting out his plans for her kingdom, not yielding to her more base compulsions. Yet as Soo-Won’s aqua eyes met hers, she felt her inhibitions melting away as easily as that silk had slid off her shoulder. With a breath of his name, she climbed onto his lap, pressing every inch of their bodies together that she could. Soo-Won’s hands pushed into her dawn-colored hair with a reverent sigh, prompting her to crane her head back into his palms. 

He pressed his mouth to the column of her throat in an open-mouthed kiss. He lingered there for several moments, and then murmured against her skin, “I’m sorry. Ever since we met again, I have caused you pain.” 

Yona’s throat bobbed against his lips as she swallowed. Her eyelashes fluttered to fight back the tears, but they came anyway. Soo-Won must have felt the tears dripping down into his hair, because he sat up to press wispy kisses over her ruddying cheeks to catch the salty streams. “My selfishness has caused you pain,” he murmured against her face. “I tried, but… Yona, I love you so…” 

“I know,” Yona said with a shuddering breath. “I know. I love you too, Soo-Won, though it vexes me.” She curled her neck so she could bury her face into his hair. She inhaled deeply, and the scent of him flooded her nose— parchment, rose water, and a crisp coolness she could only characterize as moonlight. She wondered if she smelled like the dawn, spicy and warm? 

Soo-Won kissed the junction of her neck and shoulder, drawing her out of her thoughts. Just as a small bit of lucidity returned to her, he began a path up her neck and over her chin to claim her lips in a steamy, hungry kiss. Yona perched on his lap while his fingers roved up and down her back, leaving sparks in their wake. She tangled her tongue eagerly with his, and he tasted like cool moonlight, too. Her mind clouded over like it was filled with cotton as heat built up within her, like she was a pot filling with steam. 

Just as she felt ready to burst, he pulled away. Cool air rushed through her, chilling the warmth inside of her, and she exhaled shakily. Soo-Won petted her cheek with that sad look on his face again. She still trembled atop him, not sure how to feel. These short, passionate moments between them had become such a regular occurrence that it was hard to feel guilt or shame anymore. 

“Soo-Won,” she murmured, and his fine eyelashes fluttered when he looked up at her. They’d just exchanged some very passionate kisses, but she still blushed when she meekly asked, “Would you… Would you show me the sunrise finch tomorrow morning?” 

He seemed surprised by her question, his eyes going wide. Then, his face relaxed into a sweet smile. 

“I would love to. It has been a while since I’ve seen them myself.” 

When Yona prepared to get off him, his hands tightened around her hips. 

“Stay?” he asked, quietly, pleadingly. Yona tensed at first, then slowly relaxed when she saw the way he was staring down at his desk— so sadly, so miserably. Yona knew she ought not to, but she draped herself over him anyway, nestling her head on his shoulder. He held her against him with one arm while he turned to resume tending to his documents. Yona closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling of his chest rising and falling against hers, his heartbeat thumping against her sternum. It didn’t take long for hers to synchronize with his. Lulled by the melody of their tandem breaths and heartbeats, Yona found herself drifting into a comfortable sleep. The dawn would come eventually, and Yona would have to tend again to her priorities. However, for at least a few sweet hours, she would allow herself to bathe in the cool white light of the dusk— in Soo-Won and his deep, unconditional, heart-wrenching love for her.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[rhaenyratargeryn]

EXIT WOUNDS (CYBERPUNK 2077) Ch. 2

Pairing: Takemura Goro x (female) V Rating: Mature Summary: When his plans for revenge fail, V and Takemura are left right where they once started. A dying thief and a disgraced soldier, with as much in common as they lack and an improbable bond that holds them to one another. Notes: Post-Canon, Nomad ending. Spoilers for post-game! Read on AO3 Read Ch. 1

The first awareness was that of light. Warm and bright behind his lids. The second awareness was ache. Persistent, painful and sharpened to a razor’s edge at every small movement.

Takemura begrudgingly accepted consciousness, finding the will somewhere inside him to open his eyes and look towards where the offending ray of sunshine was being allowed in.

The tent flap was being held open, just a sliver, and a pair of soft brown eyes, large and doe like in the middle of a tan-skinned face stared at him with interest. She had full round cheeks, youthfulness in every aspect of her cherub like features. The child froze as their eyes met, but slowly she smiled, a dimple in each corner of her mouth.

It was the height of spring, when the cherry blossoms were in full bloom and their petals scattered over the still pond in the gardens of the estate. Small pink ships, sailing endlessly on the vast sea.

Takemura was twenty-nine, three years dedicated already as an elite Arasaka soldier and known for his discipline, his dutifulness and his loyalty. When he did not pace the nearby halls, or stand at attention near Saburo-sama’s side, he was allowed to sit kneeled on a small mat on the wooden floor. His hand would remain on one hip, poised over his katana and another over his gun, his eyes sharp and his cyberware readings keenly attuned to every person who may move within the family halls.

It should have been a point of great shame for him then, that the tiny stumble of socked feet did not catch his attention until he found before him a small girl, her cherub cheeks puffed with a smile. She held up a drawing, or rather, scribbles upon paper in varying shades of black and red and tanned peach, all forming together to make a familiar silhouette.

“Taka-san, I drew you!”

In his duty, Takemeru was not to engage with others. He was meant to be as the room, as furniture or a tool left out. A knife on a table. What he was not meant to do, was speak to Saburo-sama’s three year old daughter. She was Saburo-sama’s joy, his greatest treasure, a child he doted on and who went everywhere at her father’s side.

Takemura looked to him now, for guidance, he told himself, but the look he gave Saburo-sama was more aligned with pleading.

“My daughter has presented you with a gift, Takameru. Be polite.” his master said without another glance, turning his attention back to his tablet.

Hanako waited patiently, expectantly. Takemeru found it difficult to even bring the words forth, his tongue sluggish and thick from so long hardly speaking much at all.

“Thank you, Hanako-sama. It is… lovely.”

She beamed, her smile drawing wider until a tiny dimple dotted high on her cheek. With insistence, she held it out for him and with equal amounts of hesitation, Takemeru took his hand from his blade and slipped the paper from her hands.

A voice called out a name, the sound hazy and muted on Takemeru’s ears. The girl turned, answering the call without looking back, leaving only the sway of dropped tent flap to ever prove she was there at all.

Takemeru let his eyes drift back closed, trying to recall the lines, the colors of the drawing. He had kept it, folded and safe beneath his armored vest for several days… but where did it go? What had he done with it after? It had been eighteen years since the blossoms and yet the few months he had spent alone, masterless and exiled, felt so much longer.

The tent opened again and Takemura groaned when the light flashed into his pupils.

“Morning.” a voice spoke, the man who had sewn up his shoulder and his side coming to sit near the cot Takemura was still shackled too. The man, too his wisdom, kept a good distance between them still.

“Is the pain bad? We scrounged up some MaxDoc to help take the edge off if you’re needin’ some.”

Takemura did not reply.

“Also need to change your IV. Sometimes the old ways are the best ways when it comes to saline and good ole H2O…. unless you’re feeling up to drinking some water?”

Water. The very word drew Takemura’s attention to how dry his throat was, how paperlike his tongue felt against the roof of his mouth. Water. His body pleaded to his mind. Water.

Takemura nodded, short and curt.

“Great. Hold on— “

Takemura watched the man as he moved around the tent, doing a good job still of keeping out of arm's reach. As his eyes traced his movements, he noted a change to the room.

There was a second cot set up at his other side.

In the second cot, was V.

Takemura felt a snarl build up near his teeth, a look of disgust and outrage ready to mar his features… until his eyes caught up with his emotions.

V looked terrible. Worse than terrible. Her skin had an unhealthy pallor to it, greyish and clammy. Her breaths were short and slow, as if her own lungs were too tired to make more of an effort. Some strange band was attached around her head, monitors fixed to her temples as a nearby computer beeped and monitored large spikes and numbers that made no sense to Takemura.

The doctor caught him staring as he returned with a cup of water. Takemura sat up as best he could manage, unsurprised when the doctor called in another to stand guard with a gun in their hand while he held the cup for Takemura to drink from. He was not to be unrestrained it would seem, though his prey lay but a scant few feet away.

“Another seizure. Hit her hard. Been out as long as you now, but… well. We’ll see what happens.”

Takemura frowned, “‘What happens’?”

He cursed himself for speaking, but the words were out before he could catch himself.

“If she wakes up. Every time it seems she has one it takes longer and longer… one day I figure she just won’t.”

V had succeeded in removing the relic, had rid herself of her demon and in doing so had thought to free herself from impending doom… and it had all been for nothing. Saburo was dead. Hanako was dead… and V was still going to die.

Takemura refused food when offered and drank only a little, the pain of his wounds a welcome distraction for the turmoil in his chest.

He never would have thought nomads would have such tech available to them, but in the large tent there was enough equipment and cases to fill a small clinic. This man is what Takemura could only imagine was their version of a ripperdoc, but he didn’t have to worry about the man trying to invoke his sympathies towards V for long. A young woman entered the tent and the ripperdoc gave her a respectful nod.

“She good, Tom?” the woman asked and Tom nodded, “Okay. Take a breather.”

She shrugged toward the tent entrance. Tom frowned, but he didn’t argue, getting up and exiting the tent and offering Takemura a quick view of the guards outside. They were still present. Not a good tactical advantage.

The woman set her fists on her hips, eyes narrowed as she scrutinized him with dark brown eyes. She has no visible cyberware to speak of, but it was common for Nomads to reject enhancement, at least in his limited experience.

Takemura, despite his feelings, spoke politely enough.

“I am Takemura Goro. If V has not already informed you.”

The woman looked a bit taken back by his easy words, but after a moment that surprise resumed an expression of suspicion.

“She did. Now you wanna tell me how you found us? And who else knows where we are?”

Takemura frowned, “It is considered extremely rude not to introduce oneself. Even to enemies.”

The woman’s face flushed red down to her neck and her teeth set against the inside of her cheek. She had a short-temper, but also a position of authority and respect given how the ripperdoc had so easily relented to her requests. She was a leader, but a potentially weak one, Takemura set that information aside for later.

“You attack my people and you wanna school me on manners, Corpo?”

“...You have someone I want.” Takemura stated, a simple reasoning for why the young Nomads he encountered were threatened.

“Too god damn bad. Now who else knows where we are?”

Takemura fell silent again, a sigh held back in his throat. V stirred slightly on the cot nearby, drawing both of their attention to the other woman as she flinched and jerked slightly in sleep. The monitors sped for only a moment and then slowed again, whatever neurological event passing quickly.

The Nomad woman’s expression had broken apart quickly from one of stubbornness and annoyance to worry… colored with affection and familial concern. She cared for V. She cared for V very strongly. That would complicate any attempts of persuasion or negotiation, but then again, Takemura had not considered those to be strong tactics to begin with.

The woman looked down at her boots and then, curtly spoke, “I’m Panam Palmer.”

“It is good to meet you, Palmer-san.” Takemeru said, but his words were filled with polite detachment that would make it quite evident even to Panam that they were simply a platitude.

“How did you find us?”

“Simple reconnaissance. I visited towns. Spoke to people. It was difficult for several weeks, but then…” Takemura paused.

“Then?”

“You and your people became lazy.”

Panam sucked in her cheek again, but controlled her emotions.

“Are there others coming?”

“No.”

“Wow… I mean, wow. Didn’t expect you to just offer that one up.”

“I have no reason to lie. My purpose is simple. You and your people are responsible for the death of one I held in utmost regard and respect. I am duty bound to end the life of the one who commanded it.”

Silence followed the end of his words, the steady beeping of the monitor filling the room. Suddenly then, Panam scoffed out a laugh and Takemura jerked his head up to glare at the young woman, forgetting himself.

“Jesus christ… you Corpo’s are really crazy, you know that? You’re ‘duty bound’? By who? You aren’t Arasaka. You aren’t anything. You come here and try to kill my sister because of some deluded belief you owe a buncha criminals and psychopaths? Who don’t want you?”

With each word her volume increased, the look of revulsion so prominent on her features that even if she had chosen not to mince her words, her distaste would have been clear. Negotiation it would seem, was not a viable option.

Takemura felt her words, but only in that they stoked a growing tension edging through his limbs and fueled a gnawing want to snap this crude woman’s neck. He let his anger stream out from his chest and into his hands, clenching them a bit tighter to try and relieve some of the pressure his growing anger exuded.

“This is what is gonna happen,” Panam began, her voice having grown colder, “We’re gonna dump you out on the sand with a quart of motor oil and a pistol and take bets on whether you shoot yourself before or after the thirst makes you crazy enough to drink it.”

The image was certainly— vivid. The sadism of such a statement catching Takemura slightly off guard.

“Wow. ” said a voice instantly recognized by both of them as V’s , “I mean, that is one stone cold line. I think I’ll steal that.”

---

“Shit, V— you need me to get Tom?” Panam had all but forgotten about Takemura, moving around to V’s cot to try and prevent the other woman from getting up.

“No.”

Yes. An indignant Johnny-Silverhand-induced auditory hallucination said quietly in the back of her mind. Maybe one day she’d get lucky and forget what the guy sounded like, then her head-voice would go back to just being her voice.

More importantly, she was nauseated as all fucking get out and Panam’s hand on her arm was doing a great job of making V feel a bit more grounded. She heard a faint click, the sound of someone chidingly clicking their tongue against their teeth and looked up to see Takemura had turned from them both, staring pointedly at nothing. But it was nothing away from V.

“No execution by desert, aight?” V said, lulling her head back towards Panam.

“Sure. Fine. Execution by bullet works just as well.” Panam said, shooting Takemura a dirty look that went unnoticed.

“Talkabout it later.” V said, only slightly slurring her words as she pulled the band off her head and peeled the monitors off a moment later. The computer made an alarming noise and V had a funny feeling it was becoming quickly overcrowded and overly loud for the former Arasaka bodyguard.

“Got an idea to make everyone happy.”

Takemura’s interest had been piqued. V caught him casting a look out of the corner of his eye at her.

---

What the fuck, V. Panam's voice still rang in her head, rolling around in her ears and in her skull and fueling an oncoming headache. For once, the voice didn't sound like Johnny though and maybe that was a good sign.

Of course Panam would hate the plan. But in the end, it wasn’t her choice. It wasn’t her life and although it had gone over about as well as V expected, for now, things were set. When she came back inside the tent, Tom had provided Takemura with an old t-shirt, the design on the front so faded it was barely more than a static of print.

His hair was down, which shrouded the grey near his temples and made him look somehow… younger. Less stiff. The look in his eyes though had not changed. Steel resolve and hardened granite. He had built a wall between them and V could hardly blame him for it… in the end, she hadn’t kept her end of the deal. But then again, she was still right where she was at the start. Sick, dying and Arasaka’s most wanted. So he could hardly say he kept up his either.

“Option one,” she began, “I’m dying. So honestly, killin’ me at this juncture would be a relief from what I got coming for me. It’s gonna be slow. It’s gonna be awful. I’m offering you front row seats to watchin’ my body slowly eat itself alive.”

Takemura’s eyes narrowed.

“I know what you’re thinkin’. ‘But you’re lookin’ for a cure’. We are. Which brings me to option two. We let you stick around while we look. If we find one and I get fixed up? You get your pistols at dawn or whatever. Get the satisfaction of knowing you got to kill me when I’m not already dead. Hell, not gonna lie. You killin' me after all this bullshit and then after I save my life too? That would be... well, I’ll give you a genuine fight for my life. If that’s what you want.”

V shrugged, “And you’ve already heard option three.”

“These options require me staying with this caravan for an unknown amount of time.”

“Six months, actually. Or five rather. So yeah. Five month wait..”

“How do I know they will not kill me before either of these things happen?”

V grinned.

“I asked them nicely.”

“Why?”

Her smile faltered.

“Why not pick option three for yourself?” Takemura said, offering the most practical and simple solution. The one she was sure right now, if they were in reverse situations, he would take.

It was a good damn question too. And V was certain she had a good damn answer half a second ago, but now with Takemura staring at her, grey eyes shrewd and with just a flicker of uncertainty… shit, seeing him at all… it made the words sound so ridiculous.

“I told you I didn’t mean for what happened to happen. I owe you, for a lot and this is the only way it’ll… sit right. For us both, I think. You don’t seem the type that would get much satisfaction outta killing me how I am now.”

V laughed, a nervous bubble of sound as she turned her eyes away and picked at a frayed thread on the knee of her pants.

“Also...guess cause we were friends once I feel like I should give you some closure. Not somethin’ I’ve gotten much in life, but welp. Here is my chance to give some.”

“...You wish to die with some honor restored.” Takemura’s voice for once held no trace of disgust, no edge of hatred. His voice was quiet, resigned. Understanding. It was not a tone V had ever thought to hear again from the man.

“Yeah, sure... if you’ll let me.”

Neither of them met each other's eyes. Two people, staring holes into opposite sides of a tent, as if refusing to acknowledge one another would somehow make them feel less.

“It is two options, not three.”

V looked up at the remark.

“Option one is, remain to witness your death or be the cause of it should you recover. Option two is motor oil and pistol.”

V held back a smile just barely. How could someone remain this pedantic even when discussing such a morbid topic?

“I accept option one.” Takemura met her eyes, only briefly, “I am patient man. I can wait.”

“Plus it gives you time to actually heal and then say fuck it and off me in my sleep or something.”

Takemura wrinkled his nose, “I could ‘off’ you now if you’d like.”

He pulled up his arm, revealing that at some time during all this chatting and debating he had gotten out of one of the cuffs.

Takemura casually used his other hand to put his thumb back in its socket, finding it impossible to miss how V did a full body shudder at the sound.

“Hard pass.” she said, still cringing.

“I will honor my word,” Takemura said, easily making work of the other handcuff and tossing it aside. He flexed his fingers, bringing them up to begin pulling his hair out of his face. V, for some reason, felt compelled to avert her gaze. It felt weirdly intimate, like she was watching him undress. Takemura brushed his fingertips over his wrist, frowning to himself before letting his hair go, falling back around his shoulders.

“You need a scrunchie?” V asked, unable to stop the small smile from forming at the corner of her mouth. What could she say? Johnny had tried to kill her once and she forgave him. Her standards were never exactly high. And a part of her, a small hopeful part of her thought maybe there was still time to make something right before she died.

Wrong city for happy endings. Her inner voice chided in Johnny's flat tone. But they weren't in Night City anymore.

[pikemoreno]

Hi Bri! Im here for your reader inserts! Of course, you know I am Heather. I have brown hair, glasses, and have a #babyface at almost 29. I am a #mom friend, love all creative outlets (fine art, writing,ect), and have a black cat (Sophie). Ive moved around a lot with my family, so I have friends in far-flung states so I love traveling to see them. Ive never not been single but really would like someone to cuddle and to cuddle me.If I could request Din that would be lovely. Thank you luv! 😊

ehehe here you are sweet friend!

---

Din’s life didn’t leave a lot of room for creativity. That is, unless you counted increasingly creative ways of detaining a bounty or reigning in a rather lively green child, which, honestly, you did. You had no idea how he managed everything by himself for so long and applauded the artistry that was all his own. But, as a result, your works of art absolutely enthralled him. Every little scribble and doodle, every sentence on flimsiplast was amazing to him, unlike anything he had ever seen. He never knew the joy of looking at beautiful things like that until you. Then, he found he could find that beauty everywhere around him too: colors were brighter, the lines on the horizon sharper, the clouds like brushstrokes. He found himself wanting to jot down the stories passerbys told, just for you to weave it into your works.

He loved watching you create. The way you bit your lip in concentration or frustratedly brushed stray hairs out of your eyes (“You know, if you pulled it back you wouldn’t have to keep doing that.” “Yeah probab- Wait, how are you the one who thought of that?”), and, ultimately the beautiful work that came out of it. Thank the stars for the helmet, making his looks in your direction ambiguous enough that he hoped you didn’t notice that he watched you so closely everytime-- you did, but you didn’t mind. Oftentimes, when you were stopped near a settlement that had a market, while he was “out for supplies” he would seek out little bits of supplies so you could keep creating. He wouldn’t mention it really, you would just find a new, unexplained little tool laying on your claimed seat in the cockpit. 

And of course you got the kid in on the fun too. His little eyes would plead for a sheet of the flimsi and something to scribble with every time he saw you do it. It brought him such a thrill to try to emulate you. There was one time you drew a little doodle of him and he was utterly astonished. In response, he quickly went to work on drawing his own little scene. Even in his funny little child scratchings, it was still pretty obvious that he’d drawn himself, you, and Din. The big old grin on his face was contagious as you praised him for such a beautiful drawing, quickly picking him up with a “Let’s go show him.” And Din had to thank the stars once again for the helmet as it took a whole lot of willpower to not blubber like a baby about it-- it was pretty obvious in his voice as he asked the kid all about his masterpiece, but you didn’t care to mention it.

[mrs-hollandstan]

can I pleaseeeee get a nurse Tom having to draw a nervous reader’s blood and he’s super gentle and cute and I’m sorry I have a doctor kink

The best kinda kink

I might have gone on a Historic rant. Sorry, the History nerd jumped out.

Obvious blood drawing stuff. Talk of veins and stuff below. Don’t read if you’re squeamish. 

“Alright love… did you uhh… you’re okay with me, right? Would you like a female nurse?” Your heart pounded in your ears as he spoke. You could request to see a phlebotomist. After all, they were more qualified and you’d had a particularly bad experience in the emergency room a few years back with a nurse inserting an IV. But… nurse Holland was quite the cutie. And this was different.

“I-I think I’ll be okay. Just… as long as you can talk me through it.” He smiled, finding a wrapped needle amongst the cream colored drawers,

“I don’t think you want that darling. I’m quite talkative.” His warm look made you smile, your heart not slowing. Pulling gloves from the box, he rolled the stool in the room over to you, sitting on it and sighing,

“You a student?” You nod, looking between his piercing chocolate eyes,

“Med? What kinda student?” He mumbles, turning your arm up to face up. Resting it on the table, before the both of you, he taps at your inner elbow,

“No… gosh no. I couldn’t do… this.” You gestured to the array of medical supplies laid out on the table. He chuckled in his throat,

“You’d be surprised. It’s not all this. There’s been quite a few times I’ve had to do a blood draw but… I was a little a little squeamish before med school. Seeing all the brain matter and such but… ya never know. You could get used to it.” He shrugs, searching for a vein in the crook of your arm,

“What’re ya goin to school for then?” Admiring the way his lashes fluttered when he focused, you swallowed,

“Historical studies. Mostly uhh… mostly world stuff. Civil War, all aspects of World War I and II.” He nods, truly impressed,

“That’s awesome. Give me a favorite fact you’ve learned so far.” Glancing up, he smiled and opened the needle and connecting it to the small tube,

“Did you know that Christopher Columbus labeled indigenous people as Indians because while Vasco de Gama, one of the most famous explorers of the 1500s and 1600s sailed around Africa to get to India for goods, Christopher Columbus decided to sail straight across the Atlantic to try and get to India and believed, until the day he died, he had landed in India when he in fact landed in the Americas?” He raised his eyebrows, eyes finding yours,

“I did not know that. That’s interesting. Give me another.” Thinking, your eyes go up to the ceiling as he moves about, preparing the vials, your nerves calming now that you’re focused on something other than needles and blood draws,

“Okay… uhh… you’ve seen Pocahontas?” He nodded,

“Course.” Leaning in, he checked to find the vein he discovered again,

“Okay, well… its inaccurate. John Smith and Pocahontas never had a relationship. She…” he looked up as he began to tie the rubber band around your arm,

“Its alright darling. Keep going. It’ll just be a little prick, but I’ll let you know. Just go ahead and tell me.” You nod, you heart pounding more,

“So John Smith and Pocahontas never had a relationship. When his ship landed on the East Coast, around modern day Virginia, the indigenous people took him captive after killing his crew. They were planning to execute him before Pocahontas threw herself over him to try and prove to her father, chief Powhatan of the Powhatan tribe, that he could be of use to them for things like trade.” Tom cocked his head,

“Interesting. So… so what happened with them?” He quizzed, opening an alcohol pad,

“Well, she learned English and served as a mediator… a sort of… translator between her tribe and the Europeans and she met John Rolfe when he came on a later ship to Jamestown, the… sort of city the Europeans had set up.” He held the needle up,

“Keep going but uhh… I’m gonna start.” You nod, taking a deep breath,

“So John Rolfe comes in, and he and Pocahontas sort of fall in love quickly and they eventually get married which-” you flinch when he pushes the needle beneath your skin and into the vein, “they uhh… they got married and the indigenous believed the marriage reunited the two sides but John Smith, he wrote in his journal that Europeans believed indigenous lower than them. So John Rolfe and Pocahontas went back to England and they had a son and just before she was set to go back to the Americas, she died in 1617. And they don’t really know of what but…” He switches out the vials, setting the full one aside,

“But yeah… her father died shortly after but… her death absolved the peace treaty thing between the two sides. So obviously… bad things happened after that.” Tom smiled, nodding,

“Yeah, obviously. That’s cool though. I didn’t know these things.” You smile, wiping your free hand off on your jeans and nodding,

“Yeah. That’s what I like about History. It’ll never be done. It’s not something that will have a closed chapter. They’re always finding new stuff to disprove theories and stuff.” There’s no denying the smile when he looks up and finds you giddy and proud,

“Yeah… that is pretty amazing.” Pulling the needle gently from your arm, he replaces it with a cotton ball, taping it off. Leaning back just the slightest, he puts the required stickers on the vials before standing,

“Well… that was fun. Thanks for being… civil with me and not passing out. Maybe uhh… maybe you and I could talk about Hostory and Med stuff over dinner sometime.” You smile wider and Tom chuckles,

“Like the idea?” You nod, turning and searching for something to write your number on. He holds his pen out, gesturing to a tissue,

“My name’s Tom.”

“Y/N.” Quickly scribbling out your number, you smile and turn to him,

“You can text me.” He nods, tucking the napkin in the breast pocket of his scrubs,

“Will do. I’ll see you soon Y/N. Oh… and they’ll call you if anything comes up in the bloodwork.” You nod and follow him out, catching his wink before exiting into the waiting room where your best friend is ready to hear you tell her about the cute nurse.

[unfortunatelysirius]

CHOCOLATE FROGS AND LOVE NOTES // REMUS LUPIN X READER // PART V

Prior Installments: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV 💟☼💟 PROMPT 💟☼💟 ☾ ¡Original! ☾ Remus Lupin and Y/N L/N have anonymously exchanged notes through a library table for over six months. When Sirius and James start meddling, will they put Remus’s love life in jeopardy or get the pot of lurve brewin’? 💟☼💟 A/N 💟☼💟 guess who’s back again my dudes?! hopefully i’ll be able to get out some more updates before school starts back on the eighth. i’m definitely banking on getting out the next updates of not your girlfriend and whispers in the dark! and hopefully, maybe a few requests ;) btw there’s only one more part in this series!! and after that, any extras will have to be requested! 💟☼💟 WORD COUNT 💟☼💟 2239 💟☼💟 TAG LIST 💟☼💟 @kapolisradomthoughts @rageofcaliban @saucyleftovers @bunnymother93 @siriuslyr5 @apareciumimagines @random-quartz @ruefulposts @teacupwizard @sunny-day15 @themissinghippogriff @bellawolfi @semifunctionalhomosapien @pinkettepoet @allwhocansee @theravenclawlover

           When Y/N L/N walked into the common-room after a strenuous effort doing Astronomy homework in the library, she was not expecting to see James Potter and Lily Evans huddled together on the sofa. She stopped just inside from the Fat Lady’s portrait, eyebrows going up to the end of her forehead. “What the bloody hell…” she muttered.

         The pair of scheming oddballs snapped their heads in Y/N’s direction at the fine hearing of her utterance, and the smaller of the two went white with panic while the bespectacled prankster was just calmly lounging back. “Oh, uh, hi, Y/N!” said Lily, hand waving too frantically to be considered even remotely unsuspicious. “Fancy seeing you here… ha ha.”

         James was much more suave, throwing up a hand and charmingly saying, “’Ello, Y/N.”

         Y/N shook her head in confused exasperation, and instead of questioning the unlikely pair of partners-in-crime, she passed them by and went straight up the stairs that led to the girls’ dormitories.

         Meanwhile, Lily was staring—doe-eyed and white as a sheet—at James. “That was close,” she whispered.

         James just shook his head and laughed, putting on a game face when Lily’s stricken gaze went into a ruthless glare. “Alright, now where were we…”

-        -

The next day, Lily forced Y/N from bed, too excitable to be calmed by the groans and glowers she received from their fellow dorm-mates. “C’mon, it’s Gryffindor’s match against Ravenclaw!”

Y/N groggily opened her eyes, turning away from the opening of her curtains when she saw the light streaming through. “Since when are you… so excited about Quidditch?” Y/N groaned, peeping up from her pillow when she heard Lily giggle elatedly. Merlin’s beard, she must really fancy James for wanting to get up this early in the bloody morning, thought Y/N, unaware how very wrong she was.

         “Up, up, up!” Too drowsy to fight, and too annoyed to speak, Y/N allowed Lily to force her into a standing position. The redheaded girl grinned and turned Y/N around, using her wand to nonverbally fix Y/N’s wild mane of bed-induced frizz. In just minutes, Y/N’s hair was in perfect, bouncy curls. “Now get dressed!”

         Y/N was almost scared to voice her irritation for Lily’s morning high-maintenance, and merely allowed Lily to drag her to their shared closet, forced into an airy dress, fit with a cloak so that Y/N would stay warm in that day’s cold, crisp weather. Lily wrapped a Gryffindor scarf around her neck, and tossed a pair of heeled boots at her feet. “Put ‘em on!”

         “Yes, Mum,” mumbled Y/N with a roll of her eyes, on the very cusp of arguing, but knowing all effort was futile when in the face of Lily Evans. She grudgingly pulled on the wedges, went and brushed her teeth in their joint bathroom, then was yanked from the dorm, barely having a chance to grab her wand and satchel.

         “Are you excited for the game?” asked Lily, grinning at Y/N’s lost face. “I know you weren’t planning on going, but… I couldn’t resist! I wouldn’t want to sit alone, you know.”

         “You could always have shared a seat with Remus!” Y/N barked. She wasn’t much of a morning person. “I wanted to sleep in today.”

         “Oh, quit whining,” said Lily, dragging Y/N into the Great Hall. Without skipping a beat, she added, “Wouldn’t you rather be the one to sit beside Remus, anyhow?”

         “I really can’t stand you sometimes.” Of course, Y/N was joking, but she hated the thought that bloody Lily knew who she fancied. Now she faced torment and teasing every day from the girl, as well as from Marlene, Mary, and Alice. It was quite humiliating, honestly.

         The two reached the Gryffindor table, and Y/N couldn’t help but notice that the only open seats were two between Sirius and Remus. Lily released Y/N’s hand and plopped down beside Sirius. That left Y/N no choice but to walk slowly and sit beside Remus… and the two shared a fleeting glance that left them both looking away, cheeks tinted red.

         It was only a few minutes of them all sitting in silence before James burst into the Great Hall, already clad in his Quidditch uniform. “Ready for the most humiliating loss of the season, birds?” called James to the Ravenclaws mockingly, before he was forcing a kid to move at the Gryffindor table, sitting across from Sirius and the rest. He caught Remus’s embarrassed gaze and grinned, winking at him. But really, unbeknownst to Remus, that wink was meant to trigger the second step in his and Lily’s plan…

         “Hey, Y/N,” said Lily suddenly. “I think I left something in the library yesterday. You fancy going with me to get it before the game?”

         A look of apprehension crossed Y/N’s face, but she didn’t like the idea of Lily going alone, so she nodded along. “Of course, yeah.”

         Remus starred hard at James from his seat, wondering if this was all some ploy of James’s that somehow now involved Lily. James blinked innocently in response, causing Remus to drop his head into the table with a loud groan.

         Shooting Remus a concerned glance, Y/N hardly had the chance to ask if he was alright. Lily pulled her right up and forced her to start walking.

         “What the hell are you doing, Prongs?” hissed Remus when they were out of earshot, his glare so vicious that James nearly wet himself with fear.

         “Ahahaha… nothing, of course.”

         Remus groaned, yet again, looking so stress-induced that Sirius had the audacity to pat his back. All he got in response was a hard shove, and the puppy-like teenager was falling from the bench with a loud yelp.

         “Bloody mongrel,” grumbled Sirius. All Remus had to do was pretend-lunge at him, and the boy was shutting right up.

         Meanwhile—minutes later—Lily and Y/N arrived at the library. Lily, putting on a front so Y/N wouldn’t grow suspicious, swooped underneath the nearest table and began to frantically pat the ground as she looked for this mysterious object. A tad bit irritated, Y/N thought to do the same, but did the table nearest the fiction section.

         Y/N mindlessly patted the ground, not even looking where she was going as she crawled from beneath the table. She knew she looked a right idiot searching for something she didn’t even know the appearance of, but frankly, she didn’t give a damn. After all, how hard could it possibly be to find something that didn’t belong in a library? Unless it was a book—then the two of them would really be deep in trouble…

         “I can’t find it!” Lily whisper-shouted. “Can you look over by the restricted section? Please? I think I may have sat there yesterday!”

         Grumbling obscenities under her breath, Y/N begrudgingly did as told… and found her head whacking something flimsy and papery. “Ouch!” she squeaked, hand smacking against her forehead as she rubbed where the offending object had made contact. Finding no bumps or marks, she then reached out that same hand beside her. She found herself grasping a piece of parchment. “What the…”

         “Find anything?” Lily said from across the ways.

         Y/N didn’t respond. Her heart beating wildly, she slowly undid the tape keeping the folded halves shut, and unraveled the note. She found herself faced with the same note she wrote to her pen-pal just a few days ago.  “What the…”

         There was a hastily-scribbled P.S. on the back, she found—and it was not what she expected in the slightest—

         I know who you are. And maybe you know who I am. Here’s a clue.

         Right underneath the barely-legible words was three surprisingly-remarkable drawing. One was of a fifth-year report card, complete with straight O’s and E’s. Second was a drawing of Peeves, holding a bucket of water balloons. And the last drawing was of two beautiful hazel-brown eyes… two hauntingly familiar hazel-brown eyes…

         Y/N gasped. Her hand went limp, and with it went the note, free-falling like a feather until it gently knocked into her exposed knee. “Oh, bloody Merlin…”

         If she didn’t have a bad feeling about today already, now her gut was a pot bubbling with unrest. The words and the drawings were too startling for her to realize the handwriting wasn’t even a remote match to her pen-pal’s amorously neat scrawl.

         Her pen-pal was Remus bloody Lupin, and he knew exactly who she was.

       💟☼💟 💟☼💟 💟☼💟 💟☼💟

      “Lily, I don’t have a good feeling about this,” said Y/N hurriedly. After finding that indeed, Lily hadn’t forgotten anything the day before and the whole trip was both a waste of energy and of thought, Y/N spent the entire excursion back trying to convince her friend not to make her go. She didn’t know if she could face Remus without breaking out into hives and fainting. Bloody hell! She thought she’d been betraying the bloke by crushing on an anonymous pen-pal, but really, they were the same bloody person! Who would have thought this to be possible? And Lily was not aware (at least to her extent of knowledge, which wasn’t very far) of Y/N’s months-long writing expedition, so really, she had no one to turn to with this sudden revelation besides the beholder of revelation himself.

         And Y/N didn’t feel like embarrassing the fuck out of herself when she’d done just that the other day, during that dreadful session of Veritaserum—wait.

         Y/N came to a screeching halt in the middle of the corridor, ignoring Lily’s bemused expression. “Bloody fucking hell!” cursed the girl, throwing her hands into the air in frustration. “I did it to myself… fuck. Bloody Sirius and his stupid half-arsed questions about books!”

         “What are you talking about?” asked Lily, looking a bit wary of her friend’s insane-sounding rant.

         With Lily’s interruption, Y/N immediately sobered up. She forced her expression back down into a nervous one, and just shook her head. “A-Ah, nothing… nothing, of course.”

         Lily raised an eyebrow, but secretly, she was smirking. She knew exactly what had the short-tempered Gryffindor in such a tizzy. But would she reveal her cards before the real fun even had the chance to begin? Obviously not. “Oh, okay… well, let’s get going! The match starts soon, and I’d prefer good seats, ya know.”

         “To see James the best?” Y/N forced a smile, forced her mind to stop with the persistent thoughts of Remus, Remus, Remus, as she nudged the redhead’s shoulder.

         Lily suddenly looked cross, but only for a simple moment. She was back to grinning as she chirped, “No, so you can sit beside Remus! Knowing Sirius, all his bloody fans will flock to his corner, so it may be hard to find a seat near them, as you know—“

         “I don’t want to sit with Remus!” Y/N blurted out.

         This had Lily halting in the middle of the corridor, turning to look at her friend with a bemused, outraged expression. “You don’t?” she hissed. “How in Merlin’s name are you going to get together if you keep avoiding your crush, Y/N?”

         “We just won’t, then, I guess,” the embarrassed girl said, looking away from Lily as shame arose in her stomach. Lily Evans sure had a way of making anyone and everyone feel bad about themselves. “I just—I don’t want to make a fool of myself!” Translation: I don’t want to let it slip that I know he knows!

         Lily giggled. “You’re being dramatic.”

         “No, I’m being perfectly reasonable.”

         “Oh, darling, you passed that mark the moment you decided to fancy a Marauder,” Lily said seriously, before yanking on Y/N’s hand. The girl came flopping forward, a frown on her face; of course, Lily chose to ignore her pal’s obvious unwillingness, and focused on the plan. With that, she pulled Y/N all the way to the Quidditch pitch.

         Sirius was sitting at the front of the Gryffindor-supportive bleacher, alongside his fellow Marauders (sans one James Potter), and he rose a hand when he saw Y/N and Lily arrive at the stands. “Over here!” he called, using said hand to wave them over.

         Lily smiled, while Y/N tried to ignore Remus’s gaze. The bloke was looking at her! How come she never noticed that ever since that day in Potions, he was always staring at her? Had she contracted some sort of disease that made her oblivious to all and any things obvious? Merlin’s beard! She was becoming dense.

         “Hello, Sirius! Hello, Remus! Hello, Peter!” Lily chirped when the two of them finally got to their station. As a reaction to Lily’s surprising acknowledgment to the three of them, Sirius waved, Remus frowned, and Peter mumbled, “Hi, Lily.” It was weird, how they all seemed to know something Y/N didn’t, and she supposed that maybe they did. Remus obviously didn’t realize that Y/N now knew the extent of his own knowledge, so that was something she definitely had the upper-hand on. Not that she wanted the upper-hand. Quite frankly, she wished she was still oblivious.

         Then she wouldn’t care to overanalyze the emotions behind Remus’s gaze.

         And with Lily choosing her seat beside Peter, leaving Y/N no choice but to sit between Remus and Sirius, something fishy seemed to be going on… And it made Y/N wonder if all four of the people sitting around her were perfectly aware of what was happening.

         Y/N sighed. This was going to be a long, long game.

[littlebitoffanfic]

Baking

Fandom: Texas Chainsaw Massacre Character: Leatherface, luda, Hoyt, monty Relationship: Leatherface/reader Request: Leatherface x reader where reader Chan is a baker and chef so constantly insists on helping with cooking. Just simple. A.N: apparently I cant do simple. But if you’d like a part two that’s a little more simple (since I’d have an established story). You placed the freshly bakes cupcakes on the windowsill of your home, the aroma filling the house. They looked delicious and smell as divine, which you were glad of, because they hoped they would draw your visitor once again. You had seen him about numerous times. He liked to walk in the woods quite often but always hid his face behind masks. When you first moved into the house, you had been frightened of him. He was a big guy, tall and very muscular, but even in fear you couldn’t help but feel the smallest ping of attraction for him even then. It had all started when you put some mini pies on the windowsill to cool, and you came back to notice one was gone. Slowly, all the things you baked seemed to go missing. Only the ones that there were a quantity of, so big pies, cakes and such stayed intact, putting the idea it was an animal to sleep in your mind. But you soon met you visitor. You had been hiding at the side of the window, waiting for whoever to make an appearance when you saw him. You had planned to confront whoever had been stealing your baked goods, but when you saw it was him, you couldn’t. You had heard rumours about him, that he was a retard and stupid and that he was an animal. The man standing at your kitchen window was an outcast, much like you had been before. He didn’t need someone shouting at him. So you had spoke to him. He had jumped and started to leave when you called him back, telling him it was fine, that you had made them for him and he could take them all, if he wanted. Which he didn’t. he only took one then quickly retreated back to the forest. Slowly, but surely, you developed a kind of friendship with him. He started being you things to ‘trade’ for your baking after you had declined to take money. Jewellery, pictures, books, utensils, you name it. You had also learned his name. Thomas. It had happened because you wanted to know his name, but he never spoke. Whether mute or just the silent type, you still wanted his name. So you wrote down a few names you though he might suite. When he came again, you presented your list to him and ask if any were right. He seemed to pause and you saw his eyes light up, meaning he was smiling under the mask. Grabbing a pen, he circled the name “Tom” which you had written down and scribbled “Thomas” next to it. You still had that piece of paper. You were brought out of your thoughts when you heard a small knock on wood. Turning around, you saw Thomas standing at the window. “hello.” You greeted with a smile, running up to the window to speak to him. You loved having a constant visitor. “This is a new recipe, so I don’t know how they will taste. Will you give me feedback?” You asked, nodding to the cupcakes. Thomas nodded, ever helpful. He placed a book beside the plate which you quickly picked up and recognised the cover. “Oh Ive heard of this one. Its meant to be very good. I cant wait to read it.” You smiled, holding the book to your chest and smiling gratefully. He seemed a little nervous today and you could couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was until he placed a box on the windowsill as well. Frowning slightly, you placed the book down and took the box, opening it up to see meat inside. A red meet that was cut into chunks. “Do you want me to cook this?” You asked, and he seemed relieved that you understood, nodding quickly. “Okay, well, what about in a pie? Or a stew? Do you have any preference?” Thomas thought for a moment, before holding up one finger, meaning the first open. “Pie it is. When do you want if for?” You asked as you went and put it in the fridge, well awake that it was a warm day. he looked at the clock, which read 12pm, then held up 6 fingers. “6pm tonight?” You confirmed which he nodded to. “Are you having a family dinner?” He nodded, then pointed at the floor. It took you a moment to understand what he was meaning. “You want your family to come here to eat?” You asked, a little confused but he nodded, offering you a apologetic look. “Oh okay. How many are there?” He pointed to himself, then to you, then held up 3 fingers. “Okay, 5 is manageable.” You nod. “is pie with mash potatoes enough?” He nods, his eyes smiling at how quickly you had understood him. Even his own family weren’t always able to understand what he was trying to say. He took the cupcakes and left. --------------time skip------------ Glancing at the time, you brushed a stray hair out of your face. It was 5.50pm, only ten minutes before Thomas and his family arrived. You weren’t sure why you were meeting his family. Maybe they had asked about you, did they know of all the baked good Thomas got from you? Going back to the stove, you turned the heat down but continues to stir the mash, giving it a quick taste test before adding a little more salt. You heard the door bell ring and you quickly wiped your hands on a towel and ran for the door. When you opened it, Thomas was standing at the front, to his right was a man in a sheriffs uniforms, his face showing that of a man who had lived a hard life. There was a woman beside him, her hair whitish grey and she was a healthy pump woman with an obvious sense of self pride shown by the ironed flowered dress with pearls around her neck. To Thomas’ left was a man very similar to the one in the sheriffs uniform in age but not in style. He wore dungarees that hung loosely over his slim shoulders. He seemed to have a permanent slouch. So this was them. The Hewitts. “Please, come in.” You smiled, stepping back and gesturing into your hallway while holding the door open. “Thank you dear.” The woman said as she stepped in first before all the men. She ran the house, you knew it. But she spoke with such warmth to you without even knowing you. The men muttered thanks as they past you and Thomas smiled. He seemed to have got dressed up, with a clean red shirt and pressed trousers. you showed them into the dining room which had a table with placements already set up for 5v guests. You decided it was best to introduce yourself to the woman first. “My names [y/n] [l/n].” you smiled as you spoke to her, which she returned. “Luda mae, sweetie. And this is my brother, Hoyt, this is uncle Monty and I believe you have met my son already.” She pointed to each member as she spoke. “Thomas? Yes, I know him.” You smiled, nodding as you tried to remember the two mens names. “How do you know his name?” She asked, perplexed. So he must be permanently mute. “Oh, I wanted to know it so I wrote down some names I thought matched him on a piece of paper. I wasn’t far wrong.” You smiled as you moved to a small desk in the corner and pulled out the paper, offering it to her. She smiled as she looked at the writing on it. “Well dear, aint that sweet. Look.” She showed Hoyt, who frowned and eyed you up and down. He was obviously a man who didn’t trust easily. “If you’d like to take a seat. Dinner wont be a moment. Theres no seating arrangements so just wherever you feel comfortable. And theres wine, soft drinks and water on that table.” You pointed to a small side table you normally kept photos on but was now a drinks bar. “Got any beers, doll?” Monty asked, earning a elbow to the ribs from Luda. But you answered before she could chastise him. “Oh yes! Sorry, I forgot. Let me just grab them. Is Budweiser okay?” You scolded yourself for forgetting beers. “My favourite.” He smiled at you and you knew you had him on your side. Escaping into the kitchen, you let out a sigh of relief. They seemed like a lovely family, but tonight was going to be a long night. Pulling out the pie, you smiled at how perfect it looked. It was like a pie from a commercial. The top was a beautiful colour and it was crispy. Plating up, you tried to give everyone an even amount of pie and mash. You also poured some of the gravy into a container to place on the table for anyone who wants gravy on their mash or extra. Taking a deep breath, you picked up one plate in your right hand and placed another on your forearm like waitresses do, Lifting up a third plate, you made your way into the dining room. The family sat at either side of the table, leaving you with the head of the table. You were surprised, since you expected either hoyt or luda to take the top but you didn’t say anything. Luda would be on your right and Thomas on your left, with Monty sitting beside Luda and Hoyt beside Thomas. “Smells delicious, dear.” Luda smiled as you placed a plate in front of her. You got similar comments from Hoyt and Monty before you went to get yours and Thomas’ food. Once again, you took two plates on one arm and used your free hand to the gravy. “Will you say grace?” You asked Luda as you placed your plate and his down. She smiled widely before ducking her head. You mirrored the rest of the family as she spoke, keeping your head down until she finished. The first few moments were torturous as you waited for their verdict, but soon the hum of satisfied taste buds filled the room, making you let out a sign of relief. The rest of the meal was spend with idle chit chat. Luda asked you about your life, your hobbies, what you had done before moving to the little cottage. You asked her about her dress, about how long she had been here and about the family. Hoyt and Monty only offered some conversations, but spent the whole time stuffing their faces. Thomas might have done the same, except for the mask her still wore, which meant the mouth hole was a little more difficult to shovel food into. You wondered if he ate with his mask on all the time or if it was just since you were here. “Well, I don’t think ive ever tasted the meat that tender.” Hoyt smiled as he leaned back, his stomach full and his plate empty. “Yes, human meat is a little tough but I find if you marinate it for a couple of hours in the gravy, it really makes the dish.” You spoke nonclonally, not looking up from your plate as you cut up some meat and ate it. You felt four sets of eyes on you as you looked up. You couldn’t help but smirk at their horrified faces. Not because it was human. But because you knew. “How?!” Hoyt demanded, his anger not taking you by surprise. “Ive worked in many places, with many people. I have some… strange friends who make and sell the best chili you’ve ever tasted.” You shrugged, placing down your cutlery. “I honestly don’t mind. I know how hard it is to make a living out here and I know how dangerous a lot of travellers are.” If they hadn’t been surprised, they were now. “You aint real.” Monty piped up. “No way Thommy found a girl who cooks well and is fine with all this.” you saw Thomas’ head snap to his uncle, giving him a dirty look but you shrug, unable to hold back the smile. “Hey, I keep myself to myself mostly. But its good to have people you can trust.” You look at Monty, seeing a smile pull at his lips. “hot damn.” Hoyt laughed loudly, making everyone jump slightly. “Is everyone finished?” You asked, steering the conversation momentarily away from the topic. You didn’t really need to ask. All the plates were empty and Luda had placed her cutlery down last. Gathering up the plates, you went into the kitchen to give them some privacy. But you crept closer to the door to eavesdrop. “Shes good. We could use someone out this way. You know how they all run for the meat factory. Well, shes smack dap in the middle of us and the factory.” Monty said in a hushed voice. “But its another mouth to feed.” Hoyt hissed. There was a moment of silence. “Thomas is right. Shes stocked up here. She obviously get some stuff in from outside the town. I don’t think she would be any bother. Plus it would be nice to have someone around that’s Tommys age. He obviously likes her.” Luda was a little louder than Monty, but she seemed to smile at the end. You couldn’t help your own smile at the thought of the gentle giant having feelings for you, even if only as a friend. You decided now was the best time to go back, so you scooped up the pudding and plates before entering. “I hope you left room for dessert. Its a Victoria sponge cake with cream.” You smiled as you placed the large cake in the centre of the table. “Would you like to cut?” You offered Hoyt the knife. A tactical move. Even though Luda seemed to have the last word, he was the face. He was the one who would appear to be in charge and liked that. Smirking, he got to his feet and cut the cake directly down the middle then attempted to cut it from there, only to be scolded by Luda. “God sake, don’t cut it like that!” She got to her feet, elbowing him out of the way and taking the knife right out of his hand. “Damn woman.” Hoyt hissed as he dropped back into his chair. You had to cover your mouth to stop you from laughing. You could really tell they were brother and sister. Some things just never changed. Glancing to the side, you saw Thomas was looking at you. You could tell he was smiling under his mask and you lowered your hand to show your smile. Soon, there was cake being passed around, everyone drizzled theirs with some cream and you smiled at how the family didn’t treat you any difference once they knew you knew. As before, no one really spoke during dessert although moans of delight filled the room on the first bite. “I must bring Henrietta and Katy to you.” Luda suddenly said. “They are very fond of high tea and these cakes are to die for.” “Are they relatives?” You asked, purely out of curiosity. “Yes, cousins actually. Oh and Henriettas about your age. Might be nice for you to have people your own age about.” Luda nodded as she took another bite. She wasn’t wrong. You adored Thomas and his company, but being able to have a conversation with someone both ways was something you missed. Once everyone was done, you raised from your chair to clear the plates away and saw Thomas mirror you. You couldn’t help but smile softly as you collected the plates and he took the cutlery and left over cake and followed you into the kitchen. “I cut off some for you and your family to take home.” You called to him over your shoulder as you set everything down. Your kitchen looked like a bomb had hit it but you didn’t mind. You would happily clean it later. Letting out a yawn, you couldn’t help but stretch. You heard Thomas move closer to you and placing a hand on your back, silent asking if you were okay. “Yeah, just a busy night. I think im going to watch a movie later so I kinda want to stay up.” You tell him, smiling at the contact. He tilts his head ot the side and you understood what he meant. “I was going to watch Saw.” You tell him but he shakes his head out of confusion. “You haven’t seen it? it’s a body horror movie. Theres 6 in total. I was going to marathon them for the next few day. Do you want to join me?” Thomas nodded his head vigorously, seeming excited by the invitation. You couldn’t help but smirk a little. The problem was that you were too good at reading Thomas. You knew he hadn’t just wanted his family to taste your cooking, he wanted them to meet you. By the way they spoke, they knew about you and Thomas seemed to have communicated a desire to keep you around. A man in his late twenties doesn’t just look for female company for friendship only, nor do they introduce them to their family for friendship. Thomas was a big man, he towered over any person and especially you, but he never intimidated you. If he really wanted, he could had forced you to do anything he wanted a long time ago. But he hadn’t. He had gotten to know you, he had listened to you and brought you things. Maybe he had got the ideas from old movie. Like a courtship. Not that you minded at all. He was a very attractive man, even with his skin issues. And you didn’t care about that at all. He was sweet, a gentle giant. You could easily fall completely in love with him. And maybe you already had. the two of you made your way back to the family. You gave them two large tins stacked on top of each other, one with the left over pie and the other with half the left over cake. “Thanks, dearie.” Luda smiled. You could tell she wanted to stay longer but Monty and Hoyt were anxious to get home to bed. It was dark out and nearly 10pm by the time they made their way to the door. Each told you it was nice to meet you and you returned the compliment. They didn’t question when Thomas didn’t follow them out, although you saw Hoyt send Monty a smirk and wink. Closing the door, you let out a sign of relief. “That went well.” You commented, seeing Thomas nod made you relax more because it meant it really did go well. Taking him by the hand, you guided him into the living room and pulled him down onto the sofa. Thomas followed you like puppy and once he was sitting, you cuddled into him as you switched the tv on. Thomas didn’t start to relax until a little into the movie when he wrapped his arms around your shoulder then tensed. Until you cuddled into him a little more, resting your head on his chest. You also told him that the couch had a reline function so he was able to put his feet up which you lay on the rest of the couch. Towards the end of the movie, you thought you would try something. Closing your eyes, you pretend to be asleep as the movie came to an end. You felt Thomas lean forward firs to sit up and then, once you didn’t move, to look at your face. He hesitated for a moment, before leaning back and reaching for something. You felt something drape over you and you knew it was the soft throw that had been lying over the top of the sofa. He covered you up then leaned backwards, seeming to settle down for the night. With his arms around you, he seemed so comfortable and at peace. Looking up at him, you felt him jump a little at realising you had woke up. But you pushed yourself up to press a chase kiss to his lips before ducking back down, hoping he would allow you to sleep here for the night. Which he did, in exchange for a few kisses in the morning.

[wannawrite]

The Royals - PWJ

who?: Wanna One’s Park Woojin genre:  🌺 type: bullet point TW: gang au

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The Royals PJH | PJH2 | KD | KD2

part one / two

mafia! AU 

what secrets does Woojin hide up in the clouds?

kind of a soft mafia! AU for a change of scenery. Thanks for requesting anon!! Hope you guys anticipate more.

disclaimer: pictures used do not belong to me and credit goes to their original owners everything that is written here is purely fictional DO NOT READ IF TRIGGERING

~

Park Woojin

code name: 6 

nickname: Sparrow

by his friends and enemies alike 

he’s deadly quiet, demure even 

Woojin is the pilot in charge of The Royals fleet of private jets 

no one has a clear headshot of Woojin as he always has on a dramatic fighter jet pilot’s mask 

rumour has it that he’s only a boy of 20 years of age, has taupe coloured skin kissed by sun rays and a key identification factor 

his snaggletooth 

but that’s the only word on the street 

Woojin was the most low-key member of The Royals, keeping his profile low and head hidden 

no wonder he was called Sparrow 

always flying off before anyone’s hand could clasp around him 

fast 

nimble 

brown haired 

speckled 

another gossip column mentioned he was a good friend of Lee Daehwi, another member of The Royals 

and that was how he became a key figure of the secret society realm 

Woojin had always dreamt of being a pilot 

when he was young, he had wanted to be an airforce pilot

lol how things have changed 

his mother was a head officer in Incheon’s flight control tower 

that was where the influence came from 

his father had been a pilot

a little love story bloomed from there 

obviously, they married and had two children 

it was a happy family of four, all enthralled by the idea of jetting through the clouds 

one day, a tragic accident had claimed his life 

Woojin was a bit too young to remember specific details but he had a calling to fulfil his late father’s legacy 

he wanted to succeed his father’s wish for him to continue flying planes

a national airforce fighter jet pilot would have been ideal 

but he was happy to settle for the position of head pilot of Seoul’s notorious mafia 

Woojin was sent to pilot school when he was a middle school student

only when he was a high schooler did he start practicing and honing his skills with real planes 

small delivery planes that is 

cute 

Woojin was the kind of guy who took photos with every plane he had piloted

every single one of them were kept in an album in his mother’s house 

yes, his cute snaggletooth was featured in ALL of them 

his sister would scrapbook some candids and send them over to The Royals HQ in Seoul 

sparrow’s scrapbooks were the talk of the town 

Woojin was in charge of a lot of things 

excessive things 

almost too much 

but he loved his job and lived for the thrill of flying 

whether it was a goods plane, passenger plane, he just adored piloting planes 

oh and it wasn’t exactly hard to renew his license when he had contacts in the business 

occasionally, Woojin traveled back to his flying school to assist teachers 

or take more classes since he is 20

still gaining knowledge 

well, that’s how you got to know him 

when you were young, your grandfather would tell you stories of the days when he was a fighter pilot 

a pilot 

he met your grandmother during his flying days as well 

fascinated by his stories and tales, you too were determined to pilot plane 

it was difficult 

your parents did not favour this idea and your grandparents were your only supporters 

in secret, they coached you on whatever knowledge they had 

wings, propellor...fly! 

you spent hours and hours poring over ancient plane encyclopedias, enriching your mind and spurring on your motivation 

and then one day, your grandparents came home with an enrolment letter 

into pilot school :D 

you screamed and cried with joy

then worried about how your parents would react but your grandparents gave 0 f*cks 

they the realest 

‘just go, we know people there who will treat and teach you with the best of their abilities.’ 

and so you started to attend classes in secret

hehe hehe 

it was all good 

your coach loved you 

your love for the planes and even theory classes was unexplainable 

not one of your parents knew what you did almost every day after school

until you nearly crashed a plane and were severely hurt

that’s when your parents found out and damn...it wasn’t exactly a pretty scene 

the amount of yelling and screaming was enough to shake the whole hospital 

you had cried so much that the IV drip had to be replaced TWICE

idk if its a thing but it now is 

though it took some time, they finally opened up to the idea of piloting 

they managed to see things from a different perspective and wrap their head around it 

and now they fund your studies :D

okay, so now the fun starts  

you knew Woojin as Park Woojin, the guy from pilot school 

your classmate 

who is kind of too advanced for your class 

Idk what game he playing

if someone asked you about him, you would say y’all talked 

but not a lot 

considering his attendance had been quite hectic and intermittent

and you did hear some fishy theories about him from the gossipers 

Jenna claimed that he worked with the local gang, operating planes so he could import drugs from overseas 

sounds a bit dumb but believable ?? 

you don’t trust Jenna anyway 

but her words linger in your mind, unable to dissipate 

just simple, harmless gossip 

another source stated Woojin was a spy for the FBI, making sure not a single soul could leave the country so easily with their own plane 

crazy 

how much time do these people have?

you noticed that Woojin was close to many of the staff and instructors 

definitely not trying to start your own theory here 

he was a person to be curious about, intriguing 

just your luck, Woojin ended up being your flying buddy for a term 

idk hOw thIS WORKS SO IT GONNA WORK THIS WAY

quite an awkward pairing if you must say

but your instructor liked how you trusted your theory work and equipment, eyeing every reading carefully

he thought it would be a good match for Woojin, who trusted his own instinct but was a firm and steady pilot 

day one: silence filled the space between the two of you 

the instructor gave y’all an hour to read the manual, study, bond whatnot

yet, half of that was spent buried in books and theory videos 

safety books 

going over basics 

reading about gear care 

even though you knew Woojin was an expert in those aspects

there was just no talking 

shhhh 

quieter than your school’s library 

that was most people’s impression of the quiet and cunning little sparrow, tricking people into thinking he’s demure and secretive

see, that’s how all those ludicrous rumours are born 

finally, you just HAD to engage in conversation 

THE SILENCE WAS JUST TOO STRANGLING 

but he was hard to talk to 

woojin barely said three words before the conversation lapsed 

you pressed your lips together, unsure of what to do 

you started to scribble, drawing cartoonish planes and clouds 

that was when Woojin commented that your plane looked more like a bird

‘pfp...see if you can draw any better,’ you challenged 

Woojin took another pencil from your case

‘Try me.’

And so that’s how you spent your ‘study session’ 

Since you do have quite a competitive spirit 

You brought a whole ass portfolio of drawings the next day 

Just so Woojin could get a taste of his competition 

Banter, banter 

After leafing through yours, he pulled out his own digital file of sketches 

And his own little scrapbook 

+2 for artistic talent 

soon, the piles of non-work related books were growing in your locker

there were a couple more pencil scribbles on the picnic table

other students found rough paper with sketches almost everywhere 

even on mock test papers 

eventually, your instructor realised something was terribly off when both of you failed the month’s test 

as punishment, you guys had to do clean up duty 

and more homework 

taking away your hands-on flying class for a month 

but it was fun 

partners in crime play together 

partners in crime die together 

so slogging after class was much more enjoyable in the company of each other 

plus, the ice cream feast after was always rewarding

you guys would purposely take a long route to the bus stop to pick up convenience store ice cream 

woojin would try to convince you that his flavour choice was much better 

time was killed with the playful banter at the bus stop 

many times you found yourself wanting to ask about all the rumours circulated about him 

but you realised that Woojin was that kind of guy who would make a joke out of it 

and take words like those lightly 

bonus!

he had a great sense of humour 

variety king 

days resembling those wore on 

but you were never tired of them 

and it seemed like he wasn’t either 

every occasion was constantly different from the previous one 

another flavour of ice cream to sample

more areas to ‘clean-up’ 

messing around with the coaches 

days at the academy were always divergent 

so it was weird when Woojin didn’t show up one day 

that time you managed to shrug off the anxieties and assumptions 

then, he disappeared for two following days 

that you definitely couldn’t ignore 

you didn’t attend the same school as him and no one else at the academy knew him very well 

when coaches were questioned, they seemed uninterested but assured of his safety 

‘Don’t worry,’ said your instructor. ‘Woojin knows his way around things. Perhaps he just hasn’t been feeling very well.’ 

mhm 

you watched how his irises flickered from yours to the surroundings 

and back 

any trace of uncertainty was erased when you took a second glance 

‘Anyway, I have his assignment folder. Could you pass it to him for the summer? Thanks.’

‘Make sure it gets to him safely. Don’t pass it to a third party.’ 

his footsteps quickened as they grew more and more out of earshot 

you scoffed in disbelief, feeling the effects of being alone while everyone else was buddied up 

how were you ever going to find Woojin? 

His mobile phone was turned off too

or he just wasn’t responding to your texts 

you: hi woojin 

you: I have your work file  

you: can we meet so I can pass it to you? 

you: you okay? haven’t seen you in a while 

woojin hadn’t read those messages 

Sighing, you closed the application and continued with your classes 

forcing yourself to pay attention to content was harder when Woojin wasn’t around

every moment you swore that your phone buzzed in your pocket

unfortunately, it was just your imagination 

there were no texts from him even at the end of the day 

you fell asleep that night with an uneasy heart full of worries 

woojin: yeah of course 

woojin: Thanks btw 

woojin: sorry about it 

woojin: aha you won’t see this asap since its 2am 

woojin: but tell me where to find you tomorrow 

~

what a debonair comment from him 

is that even an adjective to describe a phrase? 

your face feels a bit warm 

stop making a big deal out of nothing!!! 

you: how about 11am at the Starbucks near my place

you text him the address 

shockingly, Woojin’s response is immediate 

Woojin: see you :) 

a smiley face 

what does this mean? 

he’s happy to get his work, that’s what it means 

calm down 

the red alarm clock reads 8.30am 

there’s time to freshen up 

there’s also time for you to imagine every possible outcome of this meeting 

which is taking place outside of class time

would it be awkward? 

strange? 

don’t overthink this

after much deliberation, you make it to Starbucks 15 minutes before the agreed time 

all is calm at your seat near the window, drink on your table 

and clutching Woojin’s file so closely as if it would grow legs and run away 

then, two young men approach your table 

‘Hi,’ one of the voices said. ‘You’re here for Woojin, aren’t you?’ 

you’re hesitant to answer, wondering what sort of relationship Woojin would have with them 

your reply is cut off by the other guy speaking 

he chuckles 

‘I’m Jeno and he’s Jaemin. We’re Woojin’s friends and he sent us to collect his work,’ he says. 

you observe how he hides his hands behind his back, how he presses his lips together too often 

liar

Don’t give it to a third party 

pass it to him personally

Jaemin’s hands reach for the file. ‘Now if you just-‘

‘I don’t think so.’ Your words slice through the tension. ‘Woojin is supposed to collect it from me himself.’ 

The message sent is clear

Don’t f*cking touch this file 

Jaemin’s jaw seems to clench while Jeno begins to crack his knuckles 

‘Well,’ Jaemin begins, his arms retreating. ‘Woojin has something to attend to so he called us to get it. It was a last minute arrangement.’ 

Jeno scrolls through his phone, pulling up ‘Woojin’s’ texts 

The messages are indeed are from a contact called Woojin, he lacks an avatar though 

‘I’ll message him right now.’ 

however, messages from him rain in

Woojin: hey if anyone with the names Jaemin and Jeno talk to you, get away 

Woojin: i didn’t send them, we don’t get along 

Woojin: even if you don’t encounter them, I need you to go home this instant 

Woojin: I’m so sorry, I can’t meet you today 

his texts confirm your suspicions but now you’re curious about his relationship with them 

How long could teenage boys hold grudges for anyway?

you: i’m talking to them rn

you: ...what should I do 

you: jaemin’s pretty adamant about getting your stuff 

Woojin: shit 

Woojin: one of my friends is nearby, his name is Jaehwan 

Woojin: go with him 

Woojin: now, go to the barista and tell them you want a cupful of whipped cream with chocolate sauce 

you look up from your phone, a bit taken aback by the information 

your guard is well up now 

‘Well?’ Jaemin almost hisses before he catches himself

‘Hmm, I’m waiting for his reply. He wants me to order him a coffee.’ 

your heart wants to thump out of your chest

even your lips begin to dry

something just isn’t right 

your brain and body aren’t reacting positively 

As the last word leaves your lips, the barista whispers into a well-concealed in-ear 

out of the corner of your eye, you catch one of the employees ripping her apron off and tossing it into the bushes 

she was outside of the store, clearing dishes from the outdoor seating area 

when she draws close, she makes a noise about not seeing you in a long time 

but her eyes watch Jaemin and Jeno in the back 

It’s to throw them off 

Good plan 

who came up with it? 

the two mysterious boys grow increasingly irritated

it shows clearly in their actions 

furious whispers

side glares 

constant drumming of fingers 

the girl’s eyes flicker over your shoulder for barely a second 

an unnoticeable look 

‘Jaehwan’s here,’ she says just as the bell chimes

‘You’re in good hands now.’ 

her smile is genuine and so is her embrace 

you and Jaehwan don’t even exchange a slither of a greeting 

in fact, you can’t catch your breath as the same lady ushers you out through the kitchen door 

it’s only a matter of seconds before Jaemin and Jeno are alerted of your disappearance 

that’s when their rage would be on the loose

Jaehwan frantically bundles you into a nearby car 

honestly, you aren’t convinced he’s the best company 

perhaps better than the previous Js 

‘Where’s Woojin?’ you heave out. ‘I need to talk to him.’ 

Jaehwan begins to exit the parking lot, sunglasses on. 

‘Sorry, reaching him will take a while. And, sorry for the suddenness of everything. You must be...surprised.’ 

‘That’s an understatement,’ you blurt out. ‘I’m utterly confused and terrified!’ 

‘I don’t even know where I’m going and who’s taking me!’ 

all your emotions are in a jumbled mess 

being with Jaehwan feels like sitting in a lion’s den but with a metal cage surrounding you

safer but not wholly 

staying with Jeno and Jaemin would mean the lions would have devoured you before your feet even reached the bottom of the pit

Woojin didn’t answer any of your calls

Jaehwan notices your hopeless attempts at contacting your friend

‘I’m sorry, he isn’t available at this moment.’ 

‘And why the hell not! He told me to meet him! He doesn’t have any plans! He could’ve come to meet me! I just want to give him his work file!’ 

The outburst makes you feel a ton better 

Like the bag of bricks, you carried had been carrying was thrown at someone you hated 

Suddenly, the road sign reading ‘Incheon Airport’ catches your attention 

especially when Jaehwan seems to be en route

‘Why are we headed to the airport?’ You question, unsure if you want an answer 

‘We’re going to see Woojin,’ Jaehwan replies casually. 

‘W-w-we’re going out of the country?’ The stutter is inevitable 

Jaehwan appears to furrow his brow as if puzzled 

‘Um...yeah. Jihoon and Sejeong will deal with your accommodation,’ he informs, not that it is very helpful 

Who and who? 

‘Does Woojin even tell you anything?’ Jaehwan asks as he drives to the airport carpark 

He shakes his head in disapproval when you answer with a ‘no’

‘I don’t have my passport,’ you say

your words don’t even affect Jaehwan, he simply says that a Kang Daniel has got you covered 

again, who, what and how? 

‘C’mon. Let’s go. I’m sure Woojin has all the answers to your questions.’

~

Jaehwan pushes your back, urging you to move quicker 

‘What the hell,’ he curses under his breath. ‘Hurry up, I see...uh, J and J allies.’ 

there isn’t time 

Plus, you don’t have the courage to turn around and glare them in the eye 

Contrary to your assumption, Jaehwan skirts around the ‘Private Jet’ counter and settles for a commercial flight queue 

he says something about it being too risky to dispatch one of his company’s private jets 

the jets come as no shock 

After all, Woojin does needs his planes

it’s likely his close friends are all like-minded and share the same interests 

Jaehwan speedily dashes for the ‘First Class’ row 

he speaks to the counter staff in such a quiet tone even you can’t decipher his words 

‘Don’t worry about your passport, I have connections.’ 

don’t actually do this!!!

that makes your stomach clench and twist with nerves in the most horrid manner 

somehow 

your passport appears 

it isn’t a replica, it isn’t a faux document

it’s in the flesh 

...did someone break into your house?

‘Yeah,’ Jaehwan answers your unspoken question. ‘Of course someone stole this from your tabletop. You need to get better security.’ 

you face blushes red in embarrassment 

'I’m a pilot,’ you manage a counter attack

your new friend only chuckles 

jumping snaking immigration queues is something you could accustom yourself to

ahhh, the luxuries 

soon, you’ll be able to join the ‘CREW ONLY’ line 

Before you know it, you’re seated in the first class section of a reputable airline 

woah 

this is new 

you don’t want to know where Jaehwan or Woojin or whoever has the money to pay for all this 

then again, these people own a fleet of private jets 

Jaehwan advises you to chill and enjoy the flight 

but the bundle of nerves only tightens in your stomach 

You’re on your way to Hong Kong 

with a small bag of essentials and the clothes on your back

Jaehwan’s in the same situation

yet he seems so used to it, there’s no point being anxious 

tbh you’d rather pilot the plane than ride in it 

why would Woojin be in Hong Kong? 

did he fly there on impulse? 

does he even know the route? 

he did just receive his pilot licence......

no, he couldn’t possibly 

it sounded like a hasty getaway 

A sudden change of plans

as if he was in trouble.....

Who are these people Jaehwan mentioned?

Is Woojin hiding anything from me? 

Of course he is! Jaehwan knows but he feels that only Woojin has the right to tell me 

besides, he’s asleep 

how can he be sleeping at a time like this? 

it’s barely 2pm 

the day is going just fine 

hopefully, things start looking up from here 

Hong Kong...

Woojin...

I’m coming for ya

[tumblunni]

Umm im sorry i worried everyone!

Long story shory i managed to get past the suicidal moment and managed to talk to a staff member about it, albiet through the indirect awkwardness of sticky notes on the front of my door. Well, it worked! Even if it was quite a while of frantically scribbling and trying to go downstairs and hand it to someone and then giving up and ripping it upnand then trying again. Im almost out of notebook paper now!

So umm i talked to a nice lady who's YET ANOTHER new rotating staff member i never met before. But she said that maybe she can be assigned to me as my main nurse so at least im always talking to the same person each time when we're talking about the whole ptsd and anxiety thats the whole reason im here. And OH GOD THANK YOU she gave me validation that the Constantly Looking Through Your Door Every Hour So You Never Get Any Privacy was a REAL BAD IDEA in a goddamn psych ward! Apparantky its a stupid rule forced upom them by changing NHS standards since stupid brexit and our revolving door of new politicians cutting corners everywhere. It makes sense cos really its a very bigoted/stereotypical view of mental health people faaaaar away from a distance with no consideration to what they actually need to get better. "Oh check on the crazies to make sure they aint dangerous or killed themself when you arent looking", conpletely ignoring how such 24/7 surveillance could cause more suicides than it catches! And seriously let me reiterate how it did NOTHING to catch me when i wanted to kill myself the two times its happened already, its not like there's big visual signs, sometimes its just me sitting in the corner staring straight ahead and thinking things i feel unable to tell the staff members cos i cabt trust them cos of this bullshit. And if i really wanted to do it it would be so easy to just wait in between the checks! Its so dumb! And its so easy to just turn to face the door and say 'yes i'm here' every time they check and they just leave cos thats literally all they do?? Im able to do that in the middle of a damn breakdown! They dont even know if im okay or not, just that i didnt leave the room. And nobody noticed i had a big ol cut on my arm for three days!

So uhh yeah anyway the lady was mega nice and said they actually did anticipate that this rule would start off my paranoia and make me worse as soon as they first read my symptom list. And they said they were able to give me a guarantee of two hours unsupervised to just finally sit down alone and think and cry and get this combined weight of 8 days stress all out. And im allowed to go sit in the corner of the room where they cant see me and put the wardrobe in the way just in case i dont believe them.

So ive been sitting here in my little fort for a while and finally being able to hug my plush toys and just close my eyes and think through all of this shit. And like just.. Just this lady's kindness and knowing that im not being irrational for worrying and that i might have one person i can indeed talk to. It just helped a lot. I had a big stupid think and i think i'm..well im not okay but im not at risk of hurting myself anymore. I feel more optimistic that i'll be able tp endure all this if i know i can sometimes have a moment to just be allowed to be sad about it. And just not be seen. For the first ten minutes i was just all scrunched up repeating 'nobody can see me, nobody's allowed to see me' until i really believed it. Man im so fragile, just living in A House With Several People has already broken me down to that point! I feel proud i was able to build up a bit of a foundation again just by talking to myself and hugging a giant pokemon tho! And dear god all your messages really helped, thank you everyone! I feel a little bad that i wasnt able to draw anything good and post it for the one drawing request, but then i realized if its just to make me feel better im allowed to draw badly. Like how i was scrawling absolute nonsense on my arm with a pen two days ago, just so i wouldnt cut myself. It worked! It looked expectedly like what rabid depression scribbles look like, but it worked! So i probably wont show anyone my bad doodles but thank you for suggesting i do it! And the idea from someone else of just imagining some story prompts for those ocs i thought up shortly before i moved here. That cheered me up just to know people are still interested in that idea! I hope i can feel better enough soon to actually start drawing proper good stuff again so i can give them fittingly adorable designs! But just thinking up ideas in my head for lil offscreen mini stories helps me develop them even when i dont feel up to actually writing or drawing. And then there's the other people who just sent me hopes and prayers and messages of friendship and nice pictures! Oh god you guys are my actual lifeblood! One of the things i thought about while i was just chilling out was how i met all of my friends throughout my life and how they shaped who i became and how im like.. Just a big person shape made of links of friends, and all the ways i want to make them proud, and all the ways they saw worth in me even when i couldnt see it myself. And even thoigh many of them have left me they all helped lead me through so many spiralling paths to meet the others and to accomplish other things and to get to where i am today!

And just generally.. Uhh.. Love you guys a lot, okay.just wanted to let you know that im doing better, in case my mobile credit runs out. I love you so fucking much.

[izahunny]

your local hunny’s art tips

So yeah, I’m actually gonna commit to this. Note that my experience is different to everyone else’s, I’ve officially drawn for 6-5-ish years, and my style of drawing may be different. I’m just a fucking baby and maybe this is some obvious shit. But yeah, I wanna give out some tips as a thanks to the SMITE community and such. 

1) Take small breaks in between, step away from the art and do something like go on your phone or eat shit, before going back into the piece in your own time. It's obvious shit, but often we can't help ignoring the urge to take a break.

2) Draw to your aesthetic! Draw your faves w/ instagram wavy eyebrows or glossy eyeshadow, or draw them in your favourite or dream outfits. The enthusiasm and the excitement provide the perfect motivation to do things like being more productive or experimenting and getting more creative.

3) The brushes I use for painting at the present moment are here, for my lineless art, I use a solid ink pen and this blend brush.

4) When it comes to blending, it's better to use an acrylic brush with high blending and low opacity, and the colour picker. It's more realistic when the blending has texture - especially when it comes to the skin.

5)DON'T HESITATE BITCH!!!!! ! ! Don't be afraid to use different colours for shading (it's more vibrant), experiment w different poses and expressions and techniques. In traditional art, I go ALL OUT by drawing w ball-point pen and messily scribbling w copic markers.

(If you want more examples of not hesitating bitch, ive got a handful of traditional art on my art insta)

When you don't hesitate bitch, you earn more confidence and your works look more fluid and have more character. If you mess up?? Girl ur good, learn from ur mistakes :*

6) A friend was the one who told me this, and without this bit of advice, siiiiiiiiis I'd be NOWHERE. It's basically 'You know you're good, know your worth. Yeah, validation is great, but don't go looking for it in order to believe your art is good."

7) Super fucking obvious, but alter your drawing environment that optimizes as much productivity and comfort as possible. For me, I need bg noise, I have a playlist w songs that get me in the mood, I Skype call or go on Netflix/Stan (I like watching Brooklyn Nine Nine, 1000 ways to die, 50 ways to kill your lover, RuPaul's drag race, or deadly women)

8) You know how they say that in order to prevent same face syndrome, you use various shapes? That shit works. Do it. That was how I finessed thru my smite requests

8) *WILL BE UNDER THE READMORE, THIS IS THE ONE I WANNA TALK ABT A LOT*

Aside from using references for what you'd normally use refs for, I use references to mainly diversify chars.

I'll explain fully, when I draw certain POC chars, I find an appropriate model/face claim that suits them - this helps me to 1. Make them look more realistic/unique and 2. POC w/o shooting in the dark. This is usually for adapting the char to my art style, so if its an irl POC then I’m good. I don't use this for just POC chars, often I use models that look as close to my ideal idea or look for a character or poses that I like. Usually I keep the likeness or I exaggerate, as long as I have a visual reference of my idea. 

Mainly my ‘models’ are actors or models, often from Instagram. I like using poses from older paintings or Instagram photos. Basically, I use Instagram a lot.

An example of using a POC to help model another POC.  I like Lucy l.iu for nu wa bc of her elegant and mature look, also I like her facial structure. (Also she doesn’t look completely like Lucy but it was during the time where I was still getting the hang of likeness). Comparing her to the model I used for Chang’e, you can see different shapes and facial alignments.

I wanted to capture Chronos’ jawline perfectly so it caters to my style, so I use my insta crush bc he has the jawline I need. I find the post w the right angle and use it, then I thought he wouldn't look complete w/o the large lips nopalitoss has, so I gave it to him. He looks cooler and the looks gives him more of a vogue handsome look while still maintaining Chronos’ maturity.

For Nu Wa, I used Justine’s (my other insta crush) poses so I could capture this Instagram ‘feelin’ myself’ vibes for the piece I'm working on. I use various and mash them together to get what I envisioned. Also Justine is my body reference for Nu Wa.

I referred to this guy in order to give Thanatos an appropriate hairstylbc I didn't want Thanatos to have the same hair style as Chronos. I also used him for Chronos,I used this pose for him which I thought looked neat. Same model, different purposes.

Of course this accommodates to my style so it may be harder or easier for yall to find refs. However I still think its important to use refs for drawing poc characters, so that you gain a better understanding of certain features pocs possess.

So this concludes my art tips, kudos to you for reaching to the end and listening to my ramblings. Hopefully these would help in some way, if not, then I hope it was a nice read. I’ll do one more part, it will be a tutorial so feel free to hit me up w what you want to learn/or know what I do in particular. 

[shirlleycoyle]

We Talked to the Host Accused of Doing “Satanic Rituals” In His Airbnb

Frederick T. Joseph, a marketing CEO, former national surrogate for Elizabeth Warren and Bernie Sanders, and respected commenter on race in America, launched an impassioned Twitter thread on Monday night after finding himself at an Airbnb that he claimed was full of “seemingly satanic items and stuff for witchcraft rituals.” Joseph said that he and his family members were forced to flee the house after finding “imagery, candles, books, etc for rituals and what looked like devil worship.” Both the host of the Airbnb property in question and the Church of Satan have weighed in to dispute his description of the house and its contents.

In a video call with Motherboard, the host was able to take us on a walkthrough of the house and show convincingly that many of the alleged markers of “Satanic” activity are art books and kitschy objects. Joseph also claimed the house’s basement had “ritualistic markings” on the floor, which, from our viewing, is flatly untrue. They looked like paint smudges.

“They [the items] are not Satanic,” the host, whose name is Alex, told Motherboard on a video call from the house. “They’re kitsch. None of it is occult. You can get this stuff at a bodega.”

Joseph is the CEO of a marketing and storytelling agency called We Have Stories and an occasional political columnist and commentator; he’s the author of a forthcoming book called The Black Friend, on his personal experiences with racism and allyship. He tweeted that he arrived at the house with his fiancé, 8-year-old brother, and a cousin, only to find objects he considered disturbing. These included, according to photos, a religious candle that reads “Rompe Hechizo” (“Hex breaker” in Spanish), two photos of topless people, and a naughty wind-up toy of an upright dog having sex with a woman. There was also poster of a (clothed) couple wearing rubber masks and the words “SEX MILITANT” overlaid over them. Joseph also was particularly incensed by a small Baphomet statue on a bookshelf behind a taxidermied pheasant in a plastic bag.

“As we walked through the two rooms we found a bunch of imagery, candles, books, etc for rituals and what looked like devil worship,” Joseph wrote. “My brother was terrified, as were we. We called @Airbnb and told them we couldn’t stay there and explained the situation.”

Joseph also tweeted that he’d gone to check out an “animal skull” hanging on the outside of the house, adding, “When I walked I went to the basement and found more animal skulls and ritualistic floor markings and then I went up to the rooms to find much more.” He didn’t provide photos of what he called “ritualistic floor markings.”

Joseph also claimed that Airbnb had refused him a refund, writing, “We were told that we couldn’t receive a refund and they spoke to the owner who said there were just a few small art pieces that they could come remove. This was a lie, it was the whole damn house not a few things. A BAPHOMET HIDDEN BEHIND A DEAD BIRD IN A BAG.”

Baphomet is a horned, winged goat deity, sometimes depicted with breasts, that has been associated with the esoteric, occult and mystical traditions since the Middle Ages. (The Knights Templar, an exceedingly Christian organization, were accused of worshipping Baphomet by King Philip IV of France, and forced to confess to such worship under torture.)  The statue in Alex’s house appears to be a teeny tiny one covered in suede or felt, which would be an impractical and unlikely thing to use as a centerpiece for any Satanic ritual.

The Church of Satan, one of two prominent global Satanic organizations based in the United States, responded to Joseph on Twitter, writing, “The photos in this thread depict thrift store curiosities & hot topic kitsch, not evidence of satanic rituals. Sounds like you have an over active imagination and can’t tell the difference between supernatural horror movies and reality.” (Joseph did not respond.) The Satanic Temple—a group distinct from, and which has long feuded with, the Church of Satan—has a Baphomet statue at its headquarters, and garnered a great deal of news coverage for trying to place Baphomet statutes alongside Christian monuments at state capitol buildings across the country, to make a point about religious plurality in America.

Joseph indicated at the end of his thread that his family felt unsafe in the house, writing, “There was also a bridge from the woods behind the house to the back patio. Needless to say, we left because we are Black and not dealing with something that was:  1.  advertised completely different 2. Looks like a scene from Hereditary 3. Made the entire family feel unsafe.”

Joseph didn’t respond to an email from Motherboard requesting comment.

In a statement, Airbnb told us, “Frederick was fully refunded this morning, and we apologize for the delay in providing support. Our policy prohibits sexually explicit images within our listings, and we are currently working with the host to help ensure he is in compliance.” (Alex was able to show us that he provided the refund, not Airbnb.)

Motherboard successfully reached Alex, the owner of the Airbnb property in question. He requested that we keep his last name private, to prevent him from being harassed, but gave permission to disclose that the house is in Mountain Dale, New York, an area of the Catskills popular with vacationers. He offered to allow someone at Vice News to stay a night at the house to see it for themselves, which was not possible. Instead, he got on a FaceTime call on Wednesday morning to offer both a guided tour and a spirited defense. (He also showed us documentation that he issued a refund to Joseph himself, on September 8, in the amount of $983.77.)

Alex told Motherboard he works in the film and photography industry, but started offering his house on Airbnb earlier this year, as work started to slow down. He and his housemate vacate the house and stay with friends when they have guests, and Joseph was their 13th or 14th booking this year. All proceeded uneventfully, he said, until now.

Alex was at dinner with friends the night Joseph and his family arrived at the house, he told Motherboard, when he got a call from an Airbnb representative. As Alex recalls it, the Airbnb rep told him, “He wants to leave, he wants a full refund, and he says you’re holding rituals in the house.”

Alex says he responded, “I’m not giving a refund for that, that’s crazy,” then messaged Joseph to say, as he remembers it, “I heard you’re offended by some things in the house. I’m happy to remove them. I want my guests to be comfortable.”

Joseph didn’t reply, Alex said. When he realized his guest was a writer, he assumed he had a Twitter. Alex went to the site and was shocked to find tweets with pictures of his home, baseless accusations of Satanism, and what he viewed as a growing, and possibly dangerous, hysteria in the replies.

“The thread became an echo chamber,” he said. “A lot of people saying crazy stuff, that I should be called out, asking my address. I’m a private person. I don’t post to my social media or what I’m doing with my friends, so to be thrust into this wild Twittersphere of misinformation and a story conceived completely out of context and taking wild liberties with his imagination about what this house is— the first little while, I was pretty shocked and upset.”

His main concern, he said, was that someone would take it upon themselves to come to his house: “I was like, what if people find me? What if people start turning up at my house? What if this is against their religious sensibilities and they want to do something about it?

Alex was especially alarmed by a few of the replies, like one from Cindy Chu, an actor, who opined that a tub on Alex’s porch looked like it was for “bloodletting outside and washing away evidence.”

In a tour of the house, Alex showed that the “hexbreaker” candle sits on a woodstove, next to some matches and a crystal. Much of the art, like the topless photos, is tucked on low bookshelves, not immediately visible. Nearby the offending Baphomet statue is, of all things, a light with an image of Jesus painted on it, and nearby, by the bed, a white candle that reads GUARDIAN ANGEL, in English, along with a prayer.

“Here’s some Alice in Wonderland art,” Alex said, panning across the living room. He displayed a stack of art books, and then, on the windowsill, a tiny handful of delicate bones he said the housemates had either found in the woods or been gifted. “There’s a little nest here on the windowsill I found and some animal bones, a mushroom, there’s feathers we found – there’s a lot of hawks around here. Here’s a mushroom and a Jewish memorial candle. You get the picture. It’s pretty eclectic and esoteric. Any individual item taken out of the context, you can build whatever narrative you want out of that.” (The “Sex Militant” poster, for instance, which is a promotional poster, as it happens, for the work of an artist named Jex Blackmore, who is an activist and non-theistic Satanist who does not literally worship Satan.)

On the refrigerator, he showed Motherboard a pink dolphin magnet and one of a Nativity scene from Jerusalem; nearby is a wall of children’s drawings, from where they let guests’ children scribble on the walls, he said. He displayed what he thought was probably a jet engine, drawn by a small guest. “It’s a very good jet engine,” he offered.

A FaceTime conversation between a Motherboard journalist and Alex the Airbnb host, showing children's drawings in the kitchen of the home.

From the porch, he displayed the bathtub—which is clearly connected to plumbing lines and has candles next to it, obviously intended for bathing—and, below it, a little board laid across the river as a makeshift bridge. He gestured at a firepit in the yard below him.

FaceTime between Motherboard and Alex, showing bridge, river and non-ritualistic firepit.

“Someone on Twitter was saying this was a ritualistic firepit,” he said dryly. “There’s logs and a grill for meat. We also have a veggie garden nearby. Guests are allowed to pick tomatoes.”

Downstairs, in  the supposedly offending, “ritualistic” basement, he showed us a washer and dryer, a stack of boxes, a mess of clothes and other household objects, an animal skull with long horns, draped in an American flag, and, in the corner, what he suspects was the cause of Joseph’s alarm.

The basement and non-Satanic speaker stand.

“There’s a speaker stand for a DJ setup,” Alex said, showing us an object with a triangular base that was, clearly, a speaker stand. “I think maybe he looked at it and thought it was an altar.”

While the imagery, and the presence of a bridge across the water, may certainly have made Joseph and his family feel unsafe, the images he specifically posted on Twitter do not appear to be particularly menacing. All these elements, even the sexualized ones, seem relatively par for the course for a kitschy cabin in the woods. (Per Airbnb rules, “pervasive” sexual imagery isn’t allowed; that is, sexual images that are in plain sight; erotic or suggestive art is not permitted; those lines are clearly a judgment call in many cases.)

For his part, Alex acknowledges that the windup toy of the dog having sex with a woman is “in bad taste”; it was in his roomate’s room, and, had he known it was there, he said, “I would have moved it.” And had Joseph complained about the sexual imagery in the house, to him or to AirBnb, Alex said, his response would have been immediate and apologetic. “If he’d just said, ‘This doesn't look like advertised, there’s nudity,’ I  would’ve said, ‘I’m so sorry, I’ll buy you dinner in town, I’ll help you find another place to stay, I’ll give you some fuel money.”

Having candles, dead birds, and risque imagery in your house also does not mean that you are going to ritually sacrifice your Airbnb guests, or put them in position to suffer harm. (As I write this, I am sitting arm's length from a skunk skull, a taxidermied bird, a rat preserved in formaldehyde, an image of Our Lady of Guadalupe, and a cute little plaster owl, none of which indicate that I intend to ritually slaughter anyone who enters my home.)

The broader question, of course, is whether having naughty art or religious imagery that a guest finds objectionable is a matter for offense, alarm, or a refund. Airbnb would likely not refund a guest who was offended by crosses, Stars of David or prayer mats, leaving open the question of whether “Satanic” art, or anything a guest broadly considers to be “Satanic,” ought to be treated differently. (Joseph also reported that the Baphomet statue was “hidden,” which would seem to suggest the host didn’t leave it out in plain view to offend the eyesight of any easily scandalized renters.)

“I’m agnostic,” Alex said. “But if I was a pagan and someone came to my house and did this, it would be super offensive. Are they [Airbnb] cherry picking which theologies they find acceptable? Should a person have to disclose their religion? If you’re a religious person are you expected to remove the religious iconography from your house? Because that is flatout discrimination.”

That gets at the larger point here, which is that Airbnb is, at least nominally a place for normal everyday people to rent out their homes, not a hotel service, despite the fact that it’s become a haven for investors, shell companies, and the odd scam. Some people’s ordinary taste is Satanic kitsch, and there's no obvious reason why such people would have to remove anything that might conceivably be offensive to anyone spending money to spend time in their house and among their stuff. (Including your Baphomet statue prominently in your listing photos, though, might self-select out anyone who would be frightened or offended to share a living space with such an item.)

Before we spoke to Alex, Motherboard was also able to locate and review the listing where Joseph and his family stayed. The host described the house as “bright and cozy with a bit of a Scandinavian vibe to it.” The offending artwork isn’t clearly visible in any of the photos we were able to view; as the tour of the house showed, it is actually somewhat difficult to find at all.

A look at previous reviews of the house where Joseph stayed shows that other guests described the house as “cozy,” “a home away from home,” and that several enjoyed hearing the nearby creek rushing by; one guest also reported that there’s a nearby pub, suggesting the listing isn’t quite as remote as it felt to Joseph. The listing notes it has "very fast internet :)." None of the previous guests self-reported any Satanic experiences, positive or negative.

In the end, Alex said that he was never able to speak to anyone besides “low level representatives” on an Airbnb hotline, and one chat conversation online where he was able to send some supporting documentation.

“They actually said to me, ‘We haven’t experienced anything like this so we don’t know what to do,’” he told Motherboard. “They said my case has been elevated to a different team,” and that someone would call him soon. “Nobody called me,” he said. He got an email warning that “sexual nudity” is not allowed in Airbnb listings, and then another, where he was told he’d received a “strike” against his account, which would be deactivated if he got another.

Alex told us that he returned to the house around midnight, after first double-checking to make sure that his unhappy guests had departed: “The last thing I wanted was to have him think we were turning up to intimidate him.” He then passed an anxious and mostly sleepless night.

“I went to bed at like two o’clock and woke up at 6 a.m.,” he said. “ I stupidly checked twitter and things had exploded even more. It was a day of watching Twitter explode while being on hold at Airbnb. But no one had called me back.”

The experience, Alex said, “wasn’t frightening,” not exactly. “It was unsettling. Unsettling and weird and surreal and unnecessary.”

We Talked to the Host Accused of Doing “Satanic Rituals” In His Airbnb syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

[boreum-dal]

soul to keep, ch. 5

summary: marinette dupain-cheng is no stranger to unusual situations. a ghost wandering into her bedroom and pulling her into the mystery of who he was and how he died, however, is a touch out of the ordinary for her–and falling in love with him might just take the cake. ghost!adrien au.

genre: romance with equal parts (hopefully) humor and angst

cross-posted: ao3

previous: i | ii | iii | iv

—

v.

“So,” Marinette said, tapping her pen against her chin as she whirled around in her desk chair. “First, we do some research. Here’s what we know.”

Sunlight filtered through the windows of Marinette’s bedroom. This was the first time that Chat had come to visit her during the daytime. He had done so on Marinette’s request; she felt that they had a lot of work to do in the next couple of weeks if they were going to introduce him to Alya and Nino without looking crazy or terrifying, or both.

“We need to figure out how you work.” Marinette began to jot notes down on her notepad as she thought out loud. “You can walk through things. And appear and disappear. Is that right?”

Chat’s eyes roamed up toward Marinette’s ceiling as he paused to think. “Yes. I can, but if I don’t think about it, I’ll walk smack into a wall just like I would if I were human.”

Marinette looked up at him from her notepad. She paused to study him in this new lighting—as she’d only ever seen him in the dark, or in very dim light, she was shocked at how much more solid he looked in the daylight. Still not human, of course, but the outline of him blurred into the background far less. “So you have to actively try to phase through something if you want to?”

“Yes. I think that’s why, say, I can sit on this,” he said, and the indistinct silhouette of Chat’s right hand gestured toward the chaise on which he sat.

“Interesting,” Marinette murmured, scribbling furiously. “So you can kind of ‘touch’ physical objects, then. But not people.”

“As far as I know, no. I mean, you’ve seen me run right through you.”

“Right,” Marinette said, and then, without any warning, she got up, walked over to the chaise, and picked up a throw blanket. “Okay. Sorry about this in advance.” She threw the blanket over Chat’s form.

“Hey!” Chat protested, arms shooting up to catch the blanket, but it didn’t matter; the blanket went right through him and slid off the edge of the chaise and onto the ground, as if he weren’t there.

“Oh.” He looked down at the blanket. “That’s weird. I thought it’d definitely land on me.”

“Me, too.” Marinette went back to her desk and wrote down some more observations. She giggled. “If it had, then you’d look like an actual ghost.”

“I can’t tell if that was supposed to be an insult.” He leaned down. “But then, see—” and he picked up the blanket off the floor and placed it carefully back on the chaise.

Marinette blinked. “Weird. But why didn’t it land on you?”

“I really had to concentrate on picking it up,” Chat explained. “I think it’s kind of like phasing.”

Marinette furrowed her brow and pursed her lips. “Who made up these dumb rules? They make no sense.”  She checked her watch. “Okay, I think we need to call it for this afternoon. I’ve got to meet Alya for a group project meeting.”

Chat tilted his head. “You don’t sound too happy about it. Isn’t Alya your friend?”

Marinette wrinkled her nose. “Chloé is in my group, too.”

“The horrible girl.” Chat said this like a statement and not like a question.

“That’s the one,” Marinette said, and she smiled. “To be fair, I don’t think she’s totally rotten on the inside. She’s just… Mm. The good version of her is just buried very deep down inside of her.”

She met Chat’s eyes, and even surrounded mostly by the apricot-tinted darkness of his silhouette, they looked dubious. She burst into laughter, and he did as well. Marinette watched out of the corner of her eye as Chat doubled over, and again, she felt a pinprick of awe at how human the movement was for a being made mostly of shadow. Perhaps, though, she was more shocked at the rush of fondness she felt for him in that instant, too.

“You don’t sound convincing at all,” Chat said, once he’d recovered.

Marinette shrugged. She moved over to her desk, packing her bag in preparation to leave. “I tried.”

“I could come along and haunt her if you’d like,” Chat offered, amusement tinting his voice still.

Marinette giggled as she tried to jam another textbook into her already stuffed backpack. “Thanks, but knowing Chloé, she’d make a huge scene out of it. Maybe I’ll enlist you one day when she’s really made me mad.”

“Just say the word, and I’m all yours.”

Something about the inexplicable warmth in Chat’s voice made Marinette look up, and for a moment, when she caught his eye, he didn’t look away or speak. She wondered, not for the first time, what kind of boy he’d been when he was alive. She didn’t know how many seconds slipped by before she finally shook her head, and she could have sworn she saw Chat do the same.

“Well, Kitty,” Marinette said, lifting her hand up in a salute. She smiled softly at him. “Till tomorrow night. We’ve got lots of work to do.”

“Looking forward to it,” he said, and Marinette wondered if she was imagining a smile gracing the barely-visible features of his face. He bounded up the steps of her loft, and Marinette saw his eyes turn back to her. “See you, Princess.” He disappeared through the window.

Princess? Marinette felt like she should have been offended at the nickname as she realized exactly how much pink was in her room. But instead, she tucked the sound of his voice saying it—with that tinge of warmth and affection that she’d heard for the first time today—away inside of her, so that she could pull it out and revisit the moment before she went to sleep.

---

“And then, guess what she said next!”

“What?”

“She told Alya that we couldn’t use her camera to record the video part of the project, because she was just an amateur using a cheap child’s toy.”

Chat let out a low whistle. “I’d imagine Alya didn’t take that too well.”

“Of course she didn’t,” Marinette snorted, leaning back against the wall of pillows at the head of her bed and wrapping her arms around her knees. “You’ll see when you first meet her, but Alya is not one to just take an insult sitting down.”

Chat sat facing her, cross-legged at the foot of the bed. Marinette noted with interest that the blanket seemed to crease a little bit underneath where he sat.

“So what happened?” Chat’s eyes were wide, seemingly brighter than usual, as they remained fixed on Marinette.

“Alya told her that unless Chloé herself wanted to pay for a professional, Alya would do the filming on her camera, and that if she didn’t like it, she could go home and cry to her dad for all she cared.” Marinette’s lips broadened into a grin. “And of course, everyone in our group agreed. Alya’s video projects have always been top-notch.”

Chat let out a loud laugh. “What a fearless girl.” He paused. “I hope she likes me,” he added, in a smaller voice.

Marinette clucked her tongue. “How many times do I have to tell you? Of course she will. She’s only a firecracker to the people who deserve it.” She sighed and brushed a piece of lint off of her covers. “I wish I could be more like her. She’s never been afraid to tell people like Chloé off. I just let her walk all over me until I lose it completely and then get in trouble.”

Chat leaned in a little towards Marinette now. In the dim lamplight, she couldn’t really tell what kind of expression he was wearing, but his tone seemed to indicate a frown. “It’s not a bad thing, you know. To be kind and considerate, I mean.”

She shrugged, and her eyes fell to her fingers, which were drawing patterns into the creases of her covers now. “I don't think of it as being kind. I think of it as being a pushover,” she mumbled, and she was surprised at the level of bitterness in her voice.

“Hey,” Chat chided softly. “I like you how you are now.”

It took Marinette a couple of seconds to process the words, and then the mild jolt of shock she felt from them, and she looked up, slightly wide-eyed.

Chat’s own eyes were wide as well now, and his form seemed to waver a bit. “I—I mean—you just—you shouldn’t want to be anyone but yourself!” He said this last part resolutely. “Of course, I’d love to hear one day that you stuck up to Chloé—but more than that, I… Well, if you weren’t as kind as you are, where would I be? I’d be as good as dead.”

Marinette felt a smile tug at her lips. “Well, you technically are—”

“Don’t say it,” Chat groaned, holding up a hand.

They both laughed, and Marinette felt warmth fill the pit of her stomach.

“Thank you, Chat,” she said softly. “That makes me feel much better.”

“Good.”

His eyes were fixed on hers again in that same piercing way they’d been yesterday afternoon, and Marinette found herself looking for an excuse to look away. Her gaze landed on the clock on her wall. “Oh, it’s late!” she exclaimed. “We haven’t even done any brainstorming tonight!”

“That’s okay,” Chat said. “Why don’t you go to sleep? We can always meet up tomorrow after you’re back from school.”

“No, no,” Marinette said, getting up out of bed and scrambling around for her notepad before running back to her bed. “We should just try a little bit. Don’t want to waste the night."

But even with pen and paper in hand, Marinette spent the next hour talking to Chat about things wholly unrelated to revealing him to her friends, learning instead about what memories he’d retrieved so far, what his own theories were as to who he’d been, what happened when ghosts—or Chat, at least—tried to sleep.

“You don’t… You don’t sleep?” Marinette said, alarmed. “Well, I guess I never considered… But what do you do all night?”

“It’s like sleeping, I guess,” Chat said. “But it’s not totally the same. Usually, when the city quiets down, I try to shut off my thoughts. And after some time passes, everything goes blank for a while. And then I come back, eventually. It’s like waking up, but I don’t dream.”

“How long are you… out for?”

“Long enough,” Chat said, shrugging. “Enough to separate night and day.”

“But it takes you a while?”

Chat’s eyes bobbed up and down—a nod.

“It must be lonely.”

“Sometimes,” he responded, voice soft now. “But it helps a lot when I end the night here. Talking to you. It gives me something quiet to think about, if that makes sense.”

Marinette smiled warmly at him. “I’m so happy to hear that.”

Chat leaned back on his hands, and as he shut his eyes, they disappeared into him. “But I think even when I was alive, I had trouble sleeping.”

“Oh? How can you tell?”

Chat’s eyes reappeared, focusing on the ceiling. “Sometimes, I can see the vision of my old room at night, from my bed—but from a lot of different nights, where I was just awake. It’s always the same. Lots of moonlight, the details of my ceiling, me by myself. And I always feel like I was frustrated on those evenings, for being unable to sleep, for thinking whatever I was thinking.”

Marinette was silent for a moment. Of course, Chat was describing the very common phenomenon of tossing and turning restlessly in bed, but it sounded like he'd experienced it more often than not, if it was such a pervasive memory. “What do you think caused your sleeplessness?”

“I don’t know, I feel like I was stressed a lot, or maybe anxious—especially when…” Chat paused, and his eyes narrowed as he thought. “I know I only got that way after something happened, but I can’t remember what.” He let out a frustrated sigh.

Marinette felt it again, then—the nearly tangible sense of aching that emanated from him. She wanted to hug him.

In that moment, he began to ripple and waver, and in the time it took Marinette to blink, she could see, very suddenly, the faint outline of lips and a nose and eyebrows on his face, the hint of a collar at his neck and the shape of shoes at his feet. It was only the slightest change, but he looked remarkably more human like this, she thought.

“Chat,” she whispered.

He took in the tone of her voice and appeared to know immediately what she was trying to say. He looked at her, and then looked down at his hands, which were just a shade more opaque than before. “Doesn’t take a lot, does it?”

Marinette let out a soft breath as she first registered the dazed expression on his face, then realized that she could tell he looked dazed. “I can see your expressions now.”

“Really?” He stared at her for a moment. “You know what this means?” he said, his voice suddenly very serious.

She had no idea. She leaned in, holding her breath. “What?” she whispered.

“You can see me do this,” Chat said, and he waggled his eyebrows at her with a cheeky grin.

Marinette burst into delighted laughter and threw a pillow at him, which flew through him and off the bed.

They continued to talk long into the night, until Marinette began to stifle so many yawns that Chat insisted she go to sleep. Finally, she let her eyes drift closed as the will to stay awake left her.

The following morning, when she awoke, she would vaguely remember just a few things: Chat still being there for a while, at first, and rather than feeling unsafe about it, her wishing in the back of her mind that he’d stay; and then, later, the feeling of her blankets being pulled over her and Chat’s voice, far away and very close at the same time, telling her, “Good night, Princess.”

---

i apologize for the brevity of this chapter! it was originally going to be much longer, but i decided to split it into two. the good news about that is that the next chapter should be coming relatively soon!

i know marinette and chat didn't get very far with the ghost experiments, and that's my fault, ahaha. i really wanted to take this time to let them get to know each other a little bit. they'll make much more progress (experiment-wise and friendship-wise) in the next chapter!