#it feels almost disrespectful. in a way. to ignore all of that history

[rainrot4me]

NOW THE OPPOSITE

what are the creeps turn offs when it comes to a partner? a huge no or red flag

ANGIE!!!!!!

── .✦

✦ . JEFF THE KILLER

Someone who treats violence like a joke or a trend.

Jeff is unhinged, yes. But there’s a difference between someone who kills because they’ve lost their mind—and someone who glamorizes it like a trend. If a partner tried to be “edgy” for clout or treated killing like cosplay, he’d immediately lose interest. There’s nothing showy or fun about killing because you can’t stop yourself.

“You think blood makes you cool? You ever watch a guy cry while you twist his eyeball out? Nah? Then shut the hell up.”

✦ . TICCI TOBY

Mocking his tics or trauma—even as a “joke.”

Toby might play the fool, but the moment someone mocks his stutter, his scars, or anything related to his neurological condition, he’s gone. He’s heard enough cruel laughter in his life to know when someone means it. He won’t fight you. Won’t scream. Just disappears. You’ll never see him again.

“Heard that t-tone before. Not stickin’ around to hear it again.”

✦ . EYELESS JACK

Lack of boundaries or pushing into private matters without consent.

Jack is a highly guarded, private man. If someone constantly pushes him to unmask, probes into his past without care, or oversteps emotional or physical boundaries, it’ll break all trust.

“If I haven’t told you something, it’s because I’m not going to. Pushing won’t get you closer.”

✦ . MASKY (TIM WRIGHT)

Emotional manipulation or passive-aggression.

Tim has been gaslit and manipulated by the Operator for years—he knows the signs. If a partner plays mind games, guilt-trips him, or uses emotional weaponry to get their way, he’ll shut down completely.

“Say what you mean. Don’t twist your words and expect me to read your mind.”

✦ . HOODIE (BRIAN THOMAS)

Someone who refuses to self-reflect or acknowledge faults.

Brian is observant and deeply introspective. If someone constantly blames others, refuses accountability, or dismisses emotional growth, he sees it as a dead-end.

“We’re all messed up, but if you can’t admit it—you’ll never get better.”

✦ . KATE THE CHASER

People who play the victim after starting the fire.

Kate has no tolerance for manipulative victims—people who start shit and then cry when they get called out. That’s her trigger. That’s her past. She’ll cut ties fast.

“You lit the match. Don’t act shocked when the fire spreads.”

✦ . BEN DROWNED

Controlling behavior or possessiveness masked as ‘caring’.

Ben doesn’t want a babysitter. If someone tries to dictate his life—who he talks to, what he does, how he acts—it hits a nerve. He’s lived under control before (literally, as a haunted game). Never again.

“Don’t love me like I’m a problem to fix. Love me like a person who knows what they’re doing.”

✦ . CLOCKWORK

Dismissive of emotions or mocking vulnerability.

If someone laughs when she opens up or uses her trauma against her in arguments, she’ll harden instantly. Her softness is earned, not owed. And once you cross the line? You’re out.

“I’m not your punching bag for when you feel small. Try that shit again, and we’ll see where we stand.”

✦ . LAUGHING JACK

Cruelty toward animals or children.

Jack is chaotic, yes—but if you show unnecessary cruelty to things smaller or more helpless than you, it’s over. He can’t stand people who punch down. It robs him of all amusement.

“You’re not edgy. You’re pathetic. Kick a dog again and see what I do.”

✦ . SLENDERMAN

Disrespect for knowledge, history, or the metaphysical.

Slender sees existence through an ancient, almost cosmic lens. If someone is proudly ignorant, refuses to learn, or mocks the concept of deeper thought or reality, he loses all interest.

“Fools who scoff at the unknown often find themselves consumed by it.”

꩜ .ᐟ

[amirawrah]

⭐︎ once in a lifetime... part four 🐻🤎🎨

staring: Wiliam 'wilo' Saliba x Ameerah Tamilore Adeyemi

summary: After attending an Arsenal match with her friends, she never expected to leave the stadium with a lingering sense of unfinished business. William Saliba saw her walk away that night, and he didn’t stop her—something he instantly regretted. When fate brings them back together at a party, their unspoken connection is impossible to ignore. As the night unfolds, stolen glances turn into quiet confessions, and what started as hesitation becomes something undeniable. But with emotions running high and unspoken feelings in the air, the real question remains—will they finally say what was left unsaid, or will history repeat itself?

amirah: hi guys, hope you enjoy this chapter. was kind of hard to write this one cause theres a mention of wilo's parents and stuff so i didn't want to be disrespectful you know. thank you for really engaging in this story 🫶, also there is subtle smut...

taglist: @snowseasonmademe @oceanfanatic06 @kj77 @muglermami @mariejuli @kbg96 @angryflowerwitch

previous chapter & next chapter...

Things between you and Wilo had grown... warmer. The kind of warmth that danced across fingertips during casual grazes. That soft, spark-filled silence after his lips brushed your knuckles or the apple of your cheek. He was sweet, always, and present—but the kiss never came. Neither did the question.

You told yourself it was fine. That this soft ambiguity, this space between something and everything, was enough. But you couldn't help wondering if he was ever going to let it be more.

He hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t want to. Wilo had already started imagining a life where he woke up to your sleepy face, where you stole his hoodies without asking and filled his world with your laugh. But deep inside, something tugged at him. A fear that whispered:

“If you let her all the way in, what if she leaves too?”

He never talked about it much—not even to Gabriel, not Bukayo not really anyone. But when his parents died, something in him shut down. He told himself he had to be strong. And that meant protecting his heart from things that felt too fragile. Too temporary. Too good to be true.

One Late Night you lay in bed, staring at your ceiling, your room dim with the glow of your fairy lights. The thoughts wouldn’t stop spinning.

"Does he even want me? Or am I just something soft to come back to? "

Your phone buzzed, interrupting your spiral.

Wilo🐻: Can’t sleep. You up?

You stared at the message for a second before replying with a simple Yeah.

It started light—talking about random things. Music. His weird dreams. Your latest Pinterest board obsession. But your replies started feeling... distant. Faint. Almost like you weren’t fully there. And Wilo felt it too.

Wilo🐻: You good?

You didn’t even think. You just typed it.

“Do you want me?”

The silence that followed made your heart thump hard. You watched the dots dance and disappear. Then return. Then vanish again.

Finally, he replied.

Wilo🐻: “meerah, I care about you. So much.”

You cut him off.

“I don’t want to sound pushy. But we’ve been something for a while now and it doesn’t feel like you want to be real with me.”

Again, the typing dots. Again, nothing. You blinked down at your phone and scoffed softly.

“Sorry. Forget I said anything. It’s late. Goodnight.”

And with that, you turned off your phone and rolled over, trying to convince yourself that your heart wasn’t racing or hurting or both.

Meanwhile wilo stared at his phone like it betrayed him. He felt it. The shift. The quiet panic building in his chest. You were slipping. And it was his fault.

He’d been so scared to ask you to be his. So afraid that once you were, you’d realise he wasn’t enough. That you’d eventually wake up one day and decide to leave.

But the thought of losing you now?

That fear hit even harder.

And Wilo knew. He had to fix this. He had to fight for you before his silence became the answer that pushed you away for good.

The next evening you were leaning against the kitchen counter, dressed in grey sweats, a fluffy pair of socks on your feet, and a pint of cookie dough ice cream in your hand. Justine sat across from you, peeling a clementine, side-eying you with the kind of expression only a best friend can give.

"Okay. So… you just went to sleep after that?" she asked, genuinely flabbergasted.

You sighed, taking another scoop of your ice cream. “What was I supposed to do? Wait up for a response that wasn’t coming?”

Justine clicked her tongue. “No, but like… damn. He’s not giving ‘I don’t want you.’ He’s giving ‘I’m scared but still in love and trying not to drown.’”

You chuckled weakly, licking your spoon. “It just sucks. I don’t wanna push, but I don’t wanna be confused either.”

Before Justine could respond, your phone lit up on the counter— Wilo🐻.

Your heart jumped.

You answered, tone cautious. “Hey…”

“Hi,” his voice was soft but steady. “Can you come outside?”

You blinked. “Right now?”

Justine stood, already nudging you toward the door. “Go,” she mouthed.

You hesitated. “I’m in sweats. Lemme go change real quick.”

On the phone, you heard him chuckle. “No need. You'll still look beautiful,” he said. “Please. Just walk with me?”

And of course, you agreed.

You met him by his car. The evening was cool, golden light fading into that dreamy soft blue. You walked beside him in silence for a while until he finally spoke.

“My parents,” he began quietly, “they passed. Both of them. Not at once. But close enough.” He paused. “Since then, I’ve kept everything close to the chest. Especially the people I love. Because every time I give my heart to something, I lose it.”

Your breath caught at the word: love.

He didn’t look at you yet, but you could feel how raw he was. “So with you… I’ve been scared. Scared that if I pull you all the way in, one day you’ll wake up and decide I’m not enough. And I don’t want to feel that kind of loss again.”

You didn’t say anything. Just squeezed his arm a little.

Suddenly, he stopped in front of a place with soft golden lighting—an art studio. The sign above the door read “Clay & Soul.”

You blinked. “Wait—why are we here?”

He turned to you, taking both your hands in his. That same tender intensity from before. “Because you love art. And I want to be with you. And I thought maybe… this could be something we do together.”

You stared at him.

He smiled a little. “Come.”

Inside, the staff greeted him like they’d seen him before. “You’re on schedule,” one said.

You were led to a secluded, cozy space in the back—warm lighting, two wheels, and an open table with slabs of clay and tools. Wilo took an apron and tied his quickly, then reached behind you to help with yours.

“Let me,” he said.

His fingers brushed your waist as he looped the apron around, pulling the strings just tight enough to make your breath hitch. His hands were warm, steady, confident, lingering at your hips for a beat too long. You looked over your shoulder at him, and he was already watching you.

“Have you done pottery before?” you asked, a little breathless.

“Yeah,” he grinned. “Arsenal youtube thing. I was ok". he said with a questioning tone. "but he clay didn’t respect me.”

You laughed. “I’ll guide you. I got you.”

And you did. He made a lopsided attempt at a mug. You made one too, yours slightly less chaotic, but the entire time was filled with giggles, flirty glances, and stolen touches.

When the pieces were finished, the staff took them away to fire and finish.

As you walked out, one of them handed Wilo a small red box. You tilted your head. “What’s that?”

He didn’t answer—just grabbed your hand, laced his fingers with yours, and walked you down the road to a quiet park. Only a few kids and dogs in the distance, and an old couple holding hands on a bench.

He led you to a wooden table and handed you the box.

You opened it, revealing a red velvet painting plate with gold lettering. veux-tu que je sois à moi parce que j'aimerais être à toi

Your heart fluttered. “It’s beautiful. I love it. But... I don’t speak French.”

“I know,” he said, stepping closer. “It means—would you want me to be yours, because I would love to be yours.”

Your breath caught again.

You stared at him, then laughed softly, nervously. “That’s… that’s a lot.”

He smiled. “So?”

You took a breath. “Oui.”

He grinned—and then he cupped your face, leaned in, and kissed you.

Nice and slow.

Your heart bloomed in your chest. It was soft and deep, and worth every second you waited. His lips were warm, full, tasting faintly of mint. He moved against you with quiet passion, tongue slipping in just enough to make you sway into him. One hand stayed cradled to your jaw, the other around your waist, holding you like you might float away.

When he pulled back, he gave you a gentle peck before you could even process the moment. You turned your face away, overwhelmed and blushing.

But his fingers gently turned your face back. “Don’t look away, mon amour.”

Your phone rang.

Halle🍓.

You answered breathlessly. “Hello?”

“You eating dinner with us or with Wilo?” she asked.

Before you could speak, Wilo answered in a smooth tone. “She’s eating with me.”

You smiled into the phone.

Halle laughed. “Okayyy. Don’t have too much fun—”

You hung up before she could finish that thought.

Wilo raised a brow. “Too much fun?”

You smacked his chest playfully. “Let’s get dinner.”

“Wait,” he said—and before you could respond, he leaned in and stole another quick kiss.

You grinned.

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close as you walked off toward the restaurant—finally, both of you ready to fall.

Justine and Halle were clearing the dishes, the lingering scent of curry and coconut rice still warm in the air as soft Afrobeats hummed through the speaker. They were mid-conversation, recounting Halle’s chaotic voice note exchange with her situationship when giggles echoed from the hallway.

Justine paused, her hand still holding a bowl. “I swear, if that’s—”

Halle didn’t even let her finish. She was already laughing, nearly dropping her water glass as she rushed to the front door like it owed her drama.

She pulled it open—and there you were.

Pressed close to Wilo in the soft, amber hallway light, the both of you lost in some moment that clearly only made sense to the two of you. His arm was wrapped around your shoulders, your hand resting on his chest, heads leaned in too close for just friends. Both of you were giggling like school kids, and you didn’t even notice the door had opened until Halle cleared her throat—loudly.

You jumped slightly, straightening up while Wilo casually kept an arm around you like nothing happened.

Justine stood behind Halle now, both of them giving you looks.

Justine smirked. “Mmhmm. Laughing outside like a rom-com blooper reel.”

Halle leaned on the doorframe, folding her arms. “So how was dinner?” she asked with an arched brow.

You tried to hold back a grin. “Delicious. The steak was perfect.”

“Right,” Justine said, glancing at Wilo, who looked suspiciously proud of himself. “You sure that’s the only thing that was... well-done?”

You gasped dramatically. “oh god”

Wilo chuckled, holding his hands up innocently. “I promise I behaved.”

Justine muttered, “Barely.”

You nudged him. “You wanna come in for a bit?”

Wilo looked between the girls and then at you. “Non, I’ll let you.. debrief with your crew,” he said with a wink.

You rolled your eyes but smiled, walking with him a few steps toward the elevator.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your cheek, and whispered just for you, “Text me when you’re in bed, mon amour.”

You nodded, cheeks warm, and he pulled back, lingering like he didn’t want to leave.

Back inside, Halle had already flopped onto the couch like she was bracing herself for gossip. “Okay. Spill. Start to finish. No skipping.”

Justine was right next to her, pulling a blanket over her legs. “And don’t try and leave out the kiss part. We heard it.”

You held up your hands. “Okay okay! But y’all need to chill—”

“WE WILL NOT,” they both shouted in unison.

You grinned. This was gonna be a long night.

You plopped down on the armchair across from Halle and Justine, kicking off your shoes and curling your legs under you. You grabbed the throw blanket hanging over the side and tucked it around yourself, already bracing for the interrogation that was coming.

Halle leaned forward like a nosy aunt. “Start from the beginning.”

Justine dramatically grabbed a cushion and hugged it. “I want visuals. I want emotions. I want scent descriptions. Let’s go.”

You laughed, covering your face with both hands before peeking through your fingers. “Y’all are too much.”

They waited. Dead silent. Wide-eyed.

You exhaled. “Okay fine! So... yesterday night, he texted me—he couldn’t sleep and I was already in my head about everything so we had this talk, and I asked if he even wanted me... and it got awkward, but today... he pulled up outside the apartment and asked me to take a walk.”

Halle gasped. “Wait—unannounced??”

You nodded. “Unannounced. In my sweats. I told him I looked like a potato but he was like ‘you look beautiful’ in that accent, and—” You cut yourself off, putting your hands over your mouth again and squealing softly. “It was giving rom-com, okay?”

Halle sat up straighter. “Then what happened? Where’d y’all go?”

You looked between them. “A pottery studio.”

Justine nearly threw the pillow. “He took you to make pottery??”

“And he booked a private slot!” you added quickly. “We made mugs. He helped me with the apron... and whew—” You had to fan yourself at the memory.

“Girl.” Halle covered her mouth. “He was tying your apron like that?”

“Hands on my waist, breath on my neck,” you said dramatically, melting into the couch like butter. “He said it was his way of showing me he wanted me—like really wanted me. And then he took me to this little park and gave me a plate he had made that said veux-tu que je sois à moi parce que j’aimerais être à toi.” you tried to say in french.

Both of them blinked.

“What does that mean?” Halle asked.

“It means, ‘Do you want me to be yours? Because I’d like to be yours.’”

They screamed.

Justine jumped off the couch like someone lit it on fire. “YOU’RE LYING.”

“No. I have the plate.”

You reached for the bag and pulled out the little box, opening it so they could see. They gasped and stared at it like it was the crown jewels.

“That man is in love,” Justine whispered.

“And you said—what?” Halle asked. “Like how did you respond??”

You smiled, tucking your chin down. “I said ‘oui.’”

Both girls erupted again.

“And then we kissed,” you said through your smile. “Finally.”

Justine pointed at you. “I KNEW IT! You came back floating. Like your aura is glowing, girl.”

“And it wasn’t just a kiss,” you added, eyes wide, voice low. “It was the kiss.”

Halle blinked. “Like tongue?”

You nodded slowly.

They screamed again.

“Wilo said ‘mon amour’ and ‘don’t look away’ and I just—” You groaned, covering your face again. “I’m down bad.”

Justine sat back down with a satisfied sigh. “I’m proud of you. This is main character energy.”

Halle smirked. “So, y’all official now?”

You shrugged with a bashful grin. “Kinda... I think that plate made it clear. But we didn’t do the whole ‘will you be my girlfriend’ line. He just made it feel real.”

Justine clutched her chest. “That’s even better. That’s French. That’s cinema.”

You laughed, letting the silence settle for a second before grabbing your phone. A notification from Wilo.

Wilo🐻: Made it home safe ma belle. Can't stop thinking about that kiss.

You tried not to grin. Failed.

Justine saw it. “Is that him?”

You just smiled and nodded.

They both melted into the couch dramatically.

“God, I need a French boyfriend,” Halle mumbled.

The energy at the Emirates Stadium was electric that afternoon. You and Tolami made your way to the WAGs section, both of you decked out in chic fits that still had a touch of Arsenal spirit.

“Okay, this is going to be fun,” she said, looping her arm in yours. “I’m finally getting to show you off to the other girls.”

You smiled nervously. “Hopefully they like me.”

She gave you a look. “First of all, you're literally the easiest person to like. Secondly, you’re dating Wilo. they would love you, you'll see”

And you did.

After quick hellos and air kisses with some of the other girls, Tolami brought you over to a woman with long, honey-brown waves and a warm, knowing smile.

“Gabrielle, this is my bestie I’ve been telling you about.”

Gabrielle’s smile widened as she pulled you into a soft, welcoming hug. “Finalmente! You’re even prettier in person.”

You laughed, cheeks warm. “Thank you! You’re stunning.”

“I like your vibe already,” she said, linking arms with you as she slid over on her seat. “You sit with me.”

The rest of the match flew by. Gabrielle had the best running commentary and made you feel instantly comfortable. Sophia, Ana, and Milly all took a liking to you too. It was a group of beautiful, vibrant women hyping each other up, sharing snacks, and throwing inside jokes. Gabrielle even took a cute boomerang of you two cheering when Wilo made a crucial defensive play and posted it to her story with a cheeky: “Look who’s here 🥰”. You even managed to vlog a bit.

By halftime, you were already part of the Arsenal WAGs group chat — the name of which was hilariously titled VAR Queens Only — and they were inviting you to a casual brunch that Sunday.

Sophia: We do it every few weeks! You HAVE to come. You’re literally fam now. Ana: And I know Wilo will love seeing you get along with us 😌 Carol: You’re stuck with us now 💅

You glanced over at Tolami, who wiggled her brows and whispered, “Told you.”

You all took a group pic before the game resumed — a mix of duck lips, peace signs, and tilted heads .

You had just finished laughing at something Ana said when your phone buzzed again in your lap. You peeked down discreetly—it was a text from Wilo.

Wilo🐻: Wait for me in the box after the match❤️.

Your heart did that little fluttery thing it always did when he texted you like that—short, sure, and direct, but with that softness only you ever seemed to get. You smiled to yourself and quickly typed back.

Okay :) I’ll be here.

Tolami glanced over and raised an eyebrow. “Wilo?”

You nodded. “He said to wait for him after the match.”

Gabrielle smirked from the other side of you. “Ouuuh, he’s coming to fetch you like a proper man. We love that.”

The final whistle blew a little while later, the stadium erupting into cheers after a 2-1 Arsenal win against Wolves. You stood, clapping with the girls, the vibes absolutely perfect. The players waved at the stands, and you caught Wilo’s eye from the pitch. He tilted his head slightly and gave you that little smirk that only you knew meant see you in a second.

The rest of the WAGs began filing out, but you lingered back with Tolami. She nudged your arm. “I’m heading out with kayo, but call me later and give me the tea, okay?”

You grinned. “Obviously.”

Soon, you were alone in the luxury box, the noise of the stadium starting to thin out as fans exited. You walked over to the window, watching the field below, twirling a stray braid absentmindedly when you heard the soft click of the door behind you.

You turned around—and there he was. Still in his match kit, his curls slightly damp, cheeks glowing from the game, and a sheen of sweat still on his neck. He had a hoodie in his hand and his duffle bag slung over one shoulder.

“Hey,” he said, voice a little husky from yelling on the pitch.

You smiled and walked toward him. “Hey.”

He laughed softly and stepped closer, offering you his hoodie. “Put this on. It’s chilly out.”

You slipped it on without argument—it was warm and smelled like him. Like cologne, grass, and something woody. Comfort.

He looked you up and down with a soft gaze, then leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek. “Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for winning,” you teased, and he chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and steering you toward the door.

“You hungry?” he asked as you walked down the corridor.

“A little.”

“Good,” Wilo said with a sly grin, his hand resting warm and steady on your waist. “Because we’re going to my place.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning a little sass. “Oh? And who said I cleared my schedule for that?”

He leaned down slightly, voice dropping just enough to make your stomach flip. “You wearing my hoodie already, mon amour… don’t act like you’re not halfway mine.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smirk gave you away.

ameerahsnarrative

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ameerahsnarrative: love you gunners!💋

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You kicked off your shoes at the door, the scent of something warm and woody in the air—cedar, maybe, and his cologne clinging to the walls. The house was sleek but cozy. Deep grays, soft lighting, vinyls and candles, plants in the corners. It felt like him.

“I’m cooking tonight,” Wilo announced, tossing his duffel by the stairs and disappearing into the kitchen.

You followed him, sliding up onto a stool by the counter as he pulled out ingredients from the fridge. “Really?”

He glanced back at you with a smirk. “Mhmm. I’m a full man.”

You giggled as he turned on music—some mellow French R&B—and moved through the kitchen confidently. He chopped onions, rolled up his sleeves, poured olive oil like he knew what he was doing, and talked to you like this was the most normal thing in the world.

“Pasta okay?” he asked.

“Perfect.”

He poured you a glass of wine, then one for himself. The mood was slow. Warm. Intimate. He stood behind you at one point to reach something, and his hand grazed your back—lingering a second too long. He smelled so good. And that damn hoodie he gave you? Swallowed you up in the best way.

As the sauce simmered, he leaned against the counter, sipping his wine and watching you watch him. “What?”

“You’re just…” You trailed off, blushing.

He walked over slowly and stood between your knees, his hands resting gently on your thighs. “Say it.”

You inhaled, eyes locking with his. “You’re doing dangerous things right now.”

He smirked, leaning closer, brushing your hair from your face. “Then let me make it worse.”

And then he kissed you.

Finally.

Soft but intentional. Slow but certain. His lips were just as soft and full as you’d imagined in your daydreams. He kissed you like he wanted to memorize it. One hand slipped to the small of your back, the other cupped your jaw, deepening it.

You melted into him. Fingers gripping his tee. A low hum escaped his throat as your tongues met in a rhythm that made your head spin.

Then the pot bubbled over behind him.

He groaned, forehead resting against yours with a soft chuckle. “Dinner’s gonna burn.”

You laughed, breathless. “Let it.”

He pressed another kiss to your lips before reluctantly pulling away. “Non, I want to impress you. Sit. I’ll finish.”

You watched him work—heart thumping, lips tingling.

Something was shifting. Something real.

You sat back down, still catching your breath from that kiss—lips tingling, skin warm. Wilo was stirring the pasta like he hadn’t just set your soul on fire five seconds ago, casually humming to the music like it was a normal Tuesday.

It wasn’t. Not even close.

A few minutes later, he plated the pasta—creamy, garlicky, sprinkled with parsley and shaved parm—then set the bowls on the small dining table near the window. He poured a little more wine into your glass and looked at you with that signature Wilo grin. “Bon appétit, ma belle.”

You clinked glasses and took a bite. “Wow, Wilo…”

He raised an eyebrow. “Good?”

“Ridiculously good. Like, are you sure you don’t have a side hustle as a chef?”

He shrugged playfully. “Maybe I do. Maybe you just bring it out of me.”

You both laughed, and the tension softened into something easy. There were still lingering glances, subtle brushes of fingers when reaching for the wine bottle, and the occasional bite stolen off each other’s plates. The kind of quiet intimacy that builds without trying.

As the meal wound down, Wilo got up to clear the plates. You followed with the wine glasses, placing them in the sink next to him. He turned to thank you, but before he could say a word, your hands found the hem of his shirt.

He stilled.

You looked up at him, voice soft. “Don’t overthink it.”

“I’m trying not to.”

His hand slid to your hip as he let you peel his shirt off. His body was warm, toned, his skin soft under your fingertips. He watched you like you were sacred. Then he gently tugged you closer by the hoodie you were wearing—his hoodie—and kissed you again.

This time, slower. Deeper.

Your hands were in his curls, his lips trailing from your mouth to your jaw, then down your neck. “Still want to impress me?” you teased, breathlessly.

He smiled against your skin. “Je n’ai même pas commencé” I haven’t even started.

You ended up in his bedroom—dim lights, record playing in the background. You stood in front of him, and he reached for your hoodie. “May I?”

You nodded.

He slowly pulled it off you, eyes roaming like he was seeing you for the first time. “Tu es magnifique…” he murmured.

You leaned in, cupping his face. “Then show me.”

And he did.

With lips, with hands, with every slow, heated movement. You didn’t just feel desired—you felt chosen. Cherished. Unrushed.

It wasn’t about the sex. It was about the connection. The way he made you feel safe while setting you on fire. The way his fingers laced with yours halfway through. The way he whispered your name like a promise.

Afterward, tangled in the sheets, his arm draped around you, Wilo kissed your temple and said softly, “I was scared before.”

You turned to him, heart thudding.

“But not tonight. Tonight I just knew.”

You smiled, pressing your forehead to his. “Me too.”

He whispered, “Then I’m not letting you go.”

And you knew—he meant every word.

The early morning sun crept in through Wilo’s curtains, painting soft golden lines across the bed sheets. Your legs were tangled with his under the covers, your head on his chest, and his fingers gently running along your back like he couldn’t get enough of your skin. The air still smelled like him—clean, musky, warm—and the room was silent except for the soft hum of the city outside.

“Mmm,” you hummed as you shifted a little, your thigh brushing against his.

Wilo opened one eye and smirked, voice husky and deep. “You trying’ to start something already bebe?”

You giggled. “You’re the one who keeps touching me like this.”

He leaned over and kissed your shoulder, then your collarbone, trailing soft, wet kisses until you turned to face him fully. His hand slid up your thigh, slow and teasing, while his lips met yours, deeper this time. You moaned into the kiss, fingers already in his curls, tugging him closer.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered, slipping the strap of your tank top down your shoulder as he moved lower.

But just as he was about to disappear under the duvet—

Ping. Ping. PING.

Your phone buzzed loudly against the nightstand.

You groaned. “Seriously?”

Wilo sighed, face still buried near your ribs. “Ignore it.”

“I can’t—it might be work,” you said, reaching for it reluctantly.

But it wasn’t work.

It was chaos.

You had three missed texts from Justine, two from Halle, and the rest were from the WAGs group chat and some of your fashion girlies.

Justine🌪️ : “UHM HELLO?? WHO SAID YOU COULD BE FINE IN THAT BOX WITH WILO??” Attached: a Twitter screenshot with you and Wilo in the Emirates VIP box, leaning close, laughing.

Halle🍓 : “You really thought you could soft-launch and we wouldn’t notice??” Attached: a video someone posted from behind the glass showing Wilo pulling you into a side hug during the match. The caption: “Who is this?? Wilo finally got him a baddie fr 👀”

Then Sophia from the WAGs group chat dropped a bomb:

Sophia🫧: “You were SERVINGGGGG last night!! Also, your man looked obsessed, babe 😭😭” Attached: A HQ pap shot from outside the stadium, you and Wilo walking to his car, him opening the door for you with his hand lightly on your waist.

You blinked at the screen, jaw slightly dropped. “Oh my God…”

“What is it?” Wilo asked, pulling the covers back over both of you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You turned the screen so he could see. “We’re on Twitter.”

He squinted at it for a moment, then let out a low laugh.

You tapped through more comments under the video. Fans were already speculating—some surprised, some delighted, some trying to sleuth who you were. One tweet even said:

“Not Wilo being soft for a mysterious queen… I’m here for it 👏”

You laughed. “i just saw your comment on my post, so much for flying under the radar.”

He kissed your cheek and said, “Guess they know now.”

You turned to face him, phone still in hand. “What do we do?”

Wilo took the phone gently, placed it on the nightstand, and leaned back into you, his voice low. “We do this…”

He kissed your jaw, then your neck. “And then maybe brunch after.”

You giggled. “You’re ridiculous.”

He pulled the covers over your heads like you were in a secret little world, his voice muffled against your skin. “For you anything ma belle.”

You practically had to peel Wilo’s arms off of you when it was time to leave. He trailed behind you while you got dressed, offering distractions in the form of kisses to your shoulder and light touches that made it very hard to focus.

“je te veux,” he whispered last time, standing barefoot at the door as you pulled on your hoodie—the one that definitely wasn't yours.

You smiled at him, cupping his cheek. “I don't even know what that means.”

He groaned dramatically and pulled you into one last hug, arms tight around your waist. “See you later?”

“You better,” you teased, poking his chest before turning to leave.

When you got home, it smelled like vanilla and laundry detergent. Justine and Halle were already in the living room in sweats and messy buns, going over something on Justine’s laptop.

“There she is,” Halle said, lifting her brows. “Glowing like she just came back from heaven’s gates.”

Justine snorted. “Girl, just say it—you and Wilo definitely didn’t play Scrabble last night.”

You smirked, tossing your bag on the couch. “I have course work to do.”

“That’s not a no,” Justine said, eyes wide.

“That’s not a yes either,” you sang, already backing away toward your bedroom.

“GIVE US SOMETHING,” Halle yelled, throwing a pillow your way that barely missed.

“I mean… he cooked for me. And dessert was… chef’s kiss,” you said with a wink before slipping inside your room and closing the door behind you.

You took a deep breath once you were alone, the post-Wilo haze still lingering in your chest. Everything felt soft and slow, like you were floating. You dropped your keys on your desk and kicked off your shoes, walking over to your bed and grabbing your sketchpad.

You sat cross-legged, flipping to a blank page. Then you paused, remembering the way he looked at you—how his voice lowered, how his eyes searched yours, his thumb brushing your jaw as he looked at you

You exhaled softly, heart skipping, and let your pencil glide across the paper. A quick sketch of his profile. The curve of his smile. His eyes—sharp but warm. You shaded gently, adding the folds of his hoodie. Then, in the corner of the page, you scribbled:

"How does someone make you feel like art just by looking at you?"

And under it, smaller: “He does.”

You leaned back, biting your bottom lip to keep from smiling too hard. Then you carefully closed the journal, hugged it to your chest for a second and reached for your charger, just in case he texted again.

And sure enough he did

[yeoandmoon]

cowboy take me away ( mingi x reader )

as the child of a long forgotten freedom fighter, and a long time informant of kim hongjoong, you've been entangled in the bloody history & politics of strickland for as long as you could remember. when an invitation shows up at your door in the form of a familiar gunman, you find yourself grappling with the idea of gaining freedom & love in your harsh world or sticking in the comfort of your shadows.

smut + angst, ateezverse, outlaw!mingi & librarian!reader, afab reader, right person wrong lifetime, mentions of war & corruption, mingi is covered in blood, breeding kink, unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering, thigh riding, wc is 4.7k

NOTE: takes place almost directly after the events of the bouncy music video ( a whole comeback and a half late, but i think it's what cowboy mingi would want )! this fic was written across 2 provinces, 1 state, 2 continents and 3 countries its a world traveller <3 title is from cowboy take me away by the chicks. if you like this please consider reblogging or leaving a comment / an ask :)

BANG! BANG! BANG!

You hear the banging before anything else. You’re quick to get up, nearly tossing your book to the floor in your haste.

The clock on the stove reads 21:37, and you know exactly who awaits you on the other side of the front door. The news reports of the bombings of The Prestige Academy had been live for nearly three hours, and it was only a matter of time before they came knocking.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Another bang rings out through your apartment, shaking the wooden door and the small ornaments that hung around it - good luck charms, your mother had once told you.

It was silly of you to keep them up. You knew it was silly to still believe the bedtime stories of a broken down revolutionary, and the childhood she wanted so badly for you.

Yet, here they remain - framing your door in an arch of wooden dolls, and nearly forgotten symbols.

Everything you’d witnessed with The Eight; all the history that could’ve been and should have been of your world laid out right in front of you by a scary little man and his little hourglass wasn’t enough for you to pull them down. You told yourself it’d be disrespecting your mother’s memory by doing that.

Hongjoong and his boys made you believe in the stories of your mother, and the world she wanted.

It’s while staring at the smallest doll in the arch that you take another deep breath, and finally steal a glance at the shadows that are casted under the door. You can see the person shuffle in place, almost nervously. 

You know who it is, and what they want from you.

You almost want to be upset by the uninvited visitor. You want to throw the door open, and scream at him; you want to tell him how he ruined your life. You want to tell him how you should’ve called the Guardians when you saw them walk into your library that day; how you regret letting them pull you into this world you watched tear your mother apart.

But - you’re not really upset. The thought of them makes your palms sweat, and your cheeks flush and you don’t want them to go. You want him to come inside and hold you; you want him to stay here, and despite your threats, you could never call the Guardians on him… on any of them. 

You look back up at the small doll that smiles down at you, and try not to let visions of soft pink hair and gummy smiles invade your mind. You try to forget the feeling of rough hands against your skin, and his lips kissing your tummy. You want to push those to the back of your mind, and simply ignore the cowboy on the other side of your door.

BANG!

A final resounding bang rings out, and you finally grip the door handle before ripping the door open.

As if summoned by your inner complaining & contemplation, there is a man in a cowboy hat on the other side of your door. His hat sits low over his face, and a rifle hangs at his side; you could just see the blood splattered on his leathers and his cheek.

You try not to stare at the way the tan vest hugs his toned torso; or how the deep red blood speckles his neck and chest. Your knuckles turn white as they tighten on the doorframe.

Your lips kiss along his neck, while your hands are tight against his hips. You pull him closer to you and revel in the soft whimpers that fall from his swollen lips. His hands are warm, but you know he runs hot and you soak in the warmth.

“Y/N.” His deep voice breaks through the silence, as if slashing a knife through your daydream.

You give him a brief nod, “Mingi.”

There’s a smile growing on the outlaw’s face, “Were you hoping I would leave if you ignored me enough?” Mingi asks, gently pushing you to the side as he steps into your apartment.

You sigh before closing the door behind him, making sure the locks and deadbolts are tight before turning to him. You don’t answer, but your mind continues to linger on his comment and just how wrong it truly is. 

The last thing you want is for him to leave - for him to leave you.

“Hongjoong called you.”

You nod, and your eyes flicker to the drawer where your small burner phone sits in the kitchen. There’s a coded voicemail from Kim Hongjoong in the inbox, and you had listened to it enough times that you could probably recite it for Mingi.

Hongjoong and his boys wanted you to join the revolution - officially. You had been content hiding in the background of it; feeding information to Hongjoong in cryptic messages & sneaky meetings, and then letting them take the credit, but Hongjoong wanted you at the forefront now.

There was a reason, of course. You knew why he wanted you, of all people.

“I’m not my mother, Mingi.” Your voice breaks as you finally look up at the man in front of you.

Mingi looks down at you. His short pink hair is messy under the cowboy hat, and his brows are furrowed in frustration. As you look back at him, all you can think of is the wanted posters plastered through the city center, and how you wish the artists could see the vision you see.

His voice is soft as he finally speaks, “You’ve gotten comfortable, Y/N.” Mingi moves the rifle from his shoulder and onto your kitchen counter, careful to place the barrel and silencer facing the wall.

“You’re comfortable surrounded by your books, and letting Hongjoong take all the credit for your work. You should’ve been there tonight.”

You lean back against the door, right under the arch of dolls as you contemplate Mingi’s words. He’s mirroring you - standing under the arch of your kitchen door, but your apartment is so small that you can just feel the warmth of his body against yours. A part of your mind thinks you’re imagining it, but you know if you were to reach your arm out, you could take the outlaw’s rough hand into your own.

You almost do, too. You begin to reach your hand out when Mingi moves to speak again, “She’d want you to be there, you know.”

His words slam into you like a ton of bricks. Your hand falls back against your side while Mingi’s statement immediately fills your eyes with tears, and the vision of the bloodied man in front of you begins to blur. You look down to hide your tears from him, but you still find yourself nodding in agreement. He’s right. He’s right, and it makes you so angry just how right he is.

“But I don’t want to be there,” You finally say, “It’s not the place for me. I’m not like her. I’m not like Joong. I want what they wanted… what they want, but I’m better off behind you.”

Mingi shuffles closer to you, and his hand moves to hold your wrist. You blink, and tears begin to fall down your cheeks when you feel his nimble fingers against your pulse point. His body gently pushes you back against the front door.

“Would it change anything if I told you: I want you to be there? I want you to be there, right next to us? Next to me?”

When you look up at him, you see his dark brown eyes have softened. His face is still shadowed by the cowboy hat, and you reach your free hand up to gently push the hat off, letting it hit the floor in a soft thud. The warm light of your apartment immediately illuminates Mingi’s harsh features, revealing a sad smile as he meets your teary eyes.

You push his hair out of his face before cupping his cheek, and you revel in the way he closes his eyes and leans into your touch. 

“I’ve watched this world tear people apart, Min. I don’t want to watch it break you too.” You tell him, your thumb gently brushing against his cheek, “I don’t want it to break me.”

You felt selfish as the words left your lips. Maybe you were being selfish, but you cared about him too much. You care about him enough that it’s dangerous - for both of you. You both knew your time together was limited and scarce, and soon all the work you’ve both done would finally culminate with Hongjoong’s plans.

Yet, here you stand - wrapped in a bloodied cowboy’s arms, half naked and crying, unsure if this will be the last time you see each other.

“I’m not going to break, Y/N.” His hand maneuvers from your wrist, and onto your bare thigh, just brushing under the hem of the night shirt you have on, “You wouldn’t, either. We wouldn’t let you.”

You stay silent, but you wrap your arms around Mingi’s neck and pull him into a tight hug. Mingi immediately reacts, with his own arms moving to wrap around you and his head falling into your neck. You can feel his lips ghost against your neck while one of your hands moves through his hair, almost holding him in place against you.

There’s things you could say; things you want to say to him (don’t die. come back. i love you.), but you don’t say any of that. Those are foolish thoughts for your situation, and dreams neither of you can afford right now.

Instead, you gently push him away so you can see him, both your hands coming up to cup his cheeks, “Does Joong know you’re here?”

Mingi shakes his head, and you notice his own tears beginning to fall down his face. You keep your eyes on him as you nod, while one of your thumbs gently runs over his bottom lip.

“We don’t have much time then?” Your voice is hardly a whisper.

Mingi kisses your thumb before taking your hand in his, entwining your fingers and kissing your palm, “We’re leaving at midnight.” He finally says.

It takes a moment of contemplation before you surge forward in Mingi’s hold, leaning up to capture his lips in a harsh kiss. His arm around your waist tightens its grip before he kisses back, and you feel his other hand drop your own before beginning to move into your hair.

You pull away after a moment, leaning back against the door as you settle in Mingi’s arms. You look up at him - taking in the way his cheeks have blushed, and his pupils are nearly blown out. Your eyes glance over the now-smudged blood on his cheek and neck, and you have to think he’s doing it on purpose. He’d come to you after doing Hongjoong’s dirty work before, bloody & wrecked and he’d always laugh when he saw how wet your panties had become after seeing him like that.

“Take the jacket off, Mingi.” Your voice cuts through the silence you two had created. 

There’s a small smile playing at your lips when Mingi jumps before nodding, unhooking his arm from around you to pull the heavy leather coat off. Your eyes follow it as he unceremoniously drops it on your foyer floor.

His hands move to his vest, and your eyes are quick to follow as he begins slowly unbuttoning the leather.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” You narrow your eyes at him.

Mingi’s cheeky smile and the way his eyes glance up at you confirms all you need to know. You fake a gasp as one of your hands reaches out to grasp his, and you tug him back closer to you.

“You’re a tease,” you tell him as you kiss him again. 

He smiles into the kiss, while one of his hands moves to cradle your head and tilts you to gain easier access to your lips, “Am I?”

You begin to unbutton the remaining buttons on the vest, just as Mingi crowds you back against the door. He presses a kiss to your cheek, and you melt into the way he deepens the kiss while his thigh moves between your own, pressing up against your soaked core.

You groan at the feeling of his jeans against your clothed pussy, “Am I going to come here?”

Another cheeky smile flashes at you, “I am a tease, aren’t I?” He hums.

Mingi pushes you down against his thigh as he speaks, with his hands holding your hips. The drag of your clit along his thigh rendered you speechless and hot, and you let yourself fall back against the door in your bliss.

You’re standing on your toes as you rock against him when one of his arms hooks around your waist. 

“Go on, baby.” He leans down to kiss your temple, “Use me to make yourself feel good.”

His other hand tugs at the hem of your night shirt, slowly inching it up to reveal your body to him. There’s a hunger in his eyes that makes you feel wanted and sticky, and you can’t help it when your hands move to grasp at the vest to steady yourself. Mingi’s free hand moves to your chest, his fingers gently begin thumbing at your nipple until it hardens. 

You let out a sharp gasp at the feeling, relishing in the way his touch fuels the warmth that grows within you - it’s a warmth that truly only burns for the Gunman, and part of you worries it might never burn for anyone else.

Your hands move into Mingi’s hair when he leans down to take your nipple in his mouth, and the whimpers that come from the man as you tug brings another wave of arousal that goes straight to your core (and the sticky mess that you’re sure are ruining your panties and Mingi’s jeans). You can feel the bulge in his tight jeans each time you rock your hips; it matches the hunger you saw in his eyes as he kissed up your neck, letting your shirt fall back down as one of his hands moved to cup your pussy.

You reach out to palm the bulge in his jeans, and a sleepy grin graces your lips when Mingi lets out a beautiful sound. He groans your name, his free hand gripping your wrist while you push against him.

He pulls your hand away, “Don’t worry ‘bout me,” He tuts.

“You sound pretty.”

Mingi’s thumb pressed into your clit in reply, and the action brought a near scream out of you. Your hips stutter against his hand, and you grip his vest tighter as you begin to lose your balance. Mingi’s hand around your waist moves to pick you up, using the imbalance as an excuse to pull you closer to him.

“Mingi…” Your voice is strained and full of neediness.

He hums into your skin, nipping at your collarbone, “I know, Y/N.”

His thumb presses circles into your clit, and your thighs shake as you wrap your legs around Mingi. Your head falls onto his shoulder as your hips rock into his hand, urging him to move faster and harder.

You kiss him, messy and rough when he brushes his finger over your entrance, pushing you over the edge to your orgasm. You tremble against him, and he kisses away your cries and whimpers, holding you impossibly close in his arms.

Mingi’s thumb slows its movements as you ride out your climax. He presses a kiss to your hair, and you know he’s talking to you, but you can hardly hear him. You can hardly guess what he might even be saying against the quiet of your apartment and the blood rushing in your ears.

“We’re going to bed now, baby.” He whispers to you, kissing your cheek and finally moving away from under the arched doorway.

You laugh into his shoulder, “Are you going to fuck me?”

He doesn’t answer on the short walk to your bedroom, but you don’t need an answer. You know how tonight will go. You always know with Mingi.

Mingi softly drops you onto your bed, untangling your legs from around his waist before quickly beginning to undo his belt. You keep your eyes on him as you pull your soaked panties off, haphazardly kicking them to the floor while you watch Mingi undo his jeans, leaving them open as he turns his attention back to you.

He looks positively wrecked, and all he’s done is made you come. This causes an undeniable high to begin racing through your veins, and the high only grows when you feel Mingi’s fingers dancing along your inner thigh leading right up to your soaked core.

“‘Gonna open you up, baby,” Mingi grunts, while he gently pushes you back against the bed and shoves your legs open so he can comfortably kneel between them, “We gotta make sure I fit, yeah?”

You gasp at the combination of his words and the feeling of his thumb against your clit so soon, but when you glance up, he’s smiling down at you. Your fingers tightened in the sheets and you wanted to curse Mingi. You were so wet from your previous orgasm that you knew you could probably take him with minimal prep - it wasn’t anything you hadn’t done before.

But no; Mingi wanted to watch you writhe on the sheets as you took his fingers, nice and slow.

He gripped your thigh as he pushed two of his long fingers into you, and he chuckled when you threw your head back, a moan of his name escaping your lips.

“Min, please,” You bucked your hips up to meet the thrust of his fingers, “Just fuck me!”

Mingi kisses your knee in response, “We got some time,” He hums, but you could hear his voice waver as he adds another finger, and watches you grind yourself against them.

The short walk to your bedroom had hardly been enough time to recover from the orgasm you’d had against the door, and all you could do was soak up the increasing pleasure as you rode Mingi’s fingers. Although your bedroom was usually a quiet spot, it was soon overtaken by the sound of your soft cries and Mingi’s fingers thrusting into your weeping hole.

You let your head push back against the mattress as you whined in frustration and arousal. Your thighs were burning from Mingi holding them open to accommodate his large frame, and all you truly wanted to do was come on his cock.

Maybe you were made to ride his cock, a sneaky part of your arousal corrupted brain squeaked. Usually, you’d push those thoughts out of your mind but right now… You looked up at the man who sat over you. Mingi’s hair was a mess from you tugging on it earlier, with his vest hung open to expose his blood splattered chest and arms to you; leather string necklaces and chains hung from his neck, and it didn’t take long for you to pick out a pendant you had gifted him months earlier. His unbuttoned jeans stretched over his thick thighs, and hung low on his hips, exposing just enough skin that it made your mouth water.

Right now, you had no choice but to agree with the little voice that just maybe, you were made to ride Song Mingi’s cock.

You let out another whine at the revelation, bucking your hips into his hand as you reached for Mingi with a sweaty hand, “Min, I-I need you to fuck me now, please.”

Mingi takes your hand, using it as leverage to pull himself down and crush his lips into yours, “My baby needs my cock?”

His palm grinds against your clit, and the pressure is enough to turn any answer you might have for him into a broken moan. You kiss him harder, squeezing Mingi’s hand tightly in yours as you push your hips up to gain any kind of friction against him.

You wouldn’t even put it past yourself to begin grinding on his thigh wedged between your legs again - like some kind of bitch in heat.

The coil in your lower half begins to burn again, timing itself with the harsh thrusts of Mingi’s fingers and the way he kisses you, hard & unforgiving. When you move out of the kiss to place soft kisses and bites along his jaw, a broken whine escapes Mingi and it nearly topples you hard over the edge.

You buck your hips hard into his hand and kiss his neck, “I’m g-going to come,” You tell Mingi, who swears before kissing your cheek.

Hardly a second flashes before you, then the hand between your thighs is ripped away, along with it is the pleasure that you so desperately crave.

“Mingi!” You whine, trying to reach for him as he pulls his hand from your cunt, dodging your grabby hands and begins to move off of your bed, already tearing the vest off his body.

“‘think you should be good now,” Mingi gives you a teasing smile, beginning to push his jeans and boxers the rest of the way down his thighs.

He keeps his gaze on you as he begins to crawl back onto the bed, and you can see the fire that’s present in his eyes. He moves to settle between your thighs, though you can’t help but let your vision wander down his body.

A gruff laugh comes from Mingi as you feel one of his warm hands rest on your thigh. His other hand reaches for you, gently resting on your cheek as he moves over you, “I’m gonna fuck you now.”

You want to laugh at his bluntness, but he kisses you so hard that you can hardly react. His hand moves from your thigh to sit heavy on your hip as he pushes into you, and all you can do is whimper into the kiss.

Despite the prep (and your inner insistence that you could take him unprepared), Mingi is big, and you could hardly remember the last time you felt so full. It’s a euphoric feeling as he thrusts into you, holding you down against your mattress and pushing any non Song Mingi related thoughts out of your mind.

Your hands move as if they have a mind of their own; one of them moves to tangle back in Mingi’s hair, and Mingi groans before pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Min, it feels so good.” The hand on your hip squeezes, pressing you harder into the mattress.

He smiles against your skin, and presses a kiss to your throat, “I’m not sure how long I’m going to last,” His voice is weak, and laced with wanton pleasure.

Mingi had been restraining himself all night - that much you knew. You had felt the change in his energy the moment he propped you up on his thigh in your living room, but he still took his time. He took his time teasing you, and drinking in everything you could give him, but you knew wanted more. Mingi wanted every last drop he could get from you, and you wanted him to have it.

You nod at his words, and try to pull Mingi closer to you. The incoming familiar waves of pleasure were already tugging at your strings, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before you would find yourself over the edge again.

You’d like to think it was the pleasure that spoke the next sentence that fell from your lips; or, maybe even the Mingi corrupted part of your brain, but you knew that you meant the following stuttered request with every ounce of your being.

“I wan’ you to come in me.”

Mingi’s hips stutter and he swears, “If I knock you up, you’d have to come with me.” He gives a hard thrust, as if proving a point, and seems to revel in the way it makes you gasp and clench around him, “Then, I might just knock you up again - for good measure.”

You can hardly contain the broken moan that falls from your lips, “Mingi… fuck, Joong would kill us.” You grip his arm, your nails digging into the flesh as he thrusts harder into your heat. You’d never admit (especially not to Hongjoong), but the idea Mingi proposed erupted a fire within you, and it burnt from head to toe.

A low growl escapes from his lips, as he presses another kiss into your sweaty skin, “Nah, Hongjoong would kill me. He could never hurt you, baby.”

He continues his kisses along your neck, and you feel the hand on your hip slowly move over your soft tummy before you feel his fingers graze over your clit again. He presses down on the sensitive nub as you mewl, pushing your hips up to meet his thrusts. The new angle presses his cock deeper into you, and you can feel the tendrils of euphoria begin to wrack through your body with every movement of Mingi’s hips and nimble fingers.

In that moment, you’re not sure how anyone will ever make you feel how Mingi does; how anyone will fuck you like this, or just simply look at you the way the tall gunman does.

Mingi’s hips stutter again as he gently nudges your cheek with his nose, “Y/N…”

You grip his arms harder; hard enough that you’re sure it’ll leave bruises for Hongjoong and the others to find in the morning, but for now you just nod, “Mingi, come in me.” You repeat the demand.

Mingi presses a kiss on your collarbone as he moans, a breath of your name leaving his lips before he comes. The feeling of his seed spilling into you, and the warm hands on your body is enough to set off your own undoing, pushing you hard over the cliff.

Stars take over your vision, and your back arches as you ride out your orgasm against Mingi, trying to pull him closer into your orbit. You vaguely feel his hand take yours, and you begin to slowly recover while he presses soft kisses against your wrist and palm. He’s sweaty above you, and you can see the flush that overtakes his cheeks while he comes down from his own climax.

“Do you have to leave now?” You manage to croak out, scared to look at the clock next to your bed.

Mingi glances at the clock, and a frown crosses his face - just for a moment. He shakes his head though, “No, not yet.”

His voice is soft, and you know he’s lying to you. He’s still holding your hand as he moves to lie next to you on your bed. The bed is small enough that he crowds you against the wall, but you two had done this enough times that you expect it; in fact, you almost welcome the crowding that comes from having Song Mingi in your bed.

You’d take anything to spend more time with him, but for now you settle with the soft kisses he’s placing on your hand.

“You know what to say if they come looking for us?”

You nod.

“I’m sorry,” Guilt racks his voice, and you’re not sure what he’s sorry for. Maybe he’s saying it for Hongjoong, who pulled you back into this, or maybe he’s sorry for leaving.

Maybe he’s sorry for loving you, when neither of you could afford to be loved.

You don’t want an answer though, and instead you pull him back into your orbit and settle for slotting your lips against his one last time.

—

When you wake alone in the morning, you can’t help but notice the small doll in the arch around your door is gone - only the blank wallpaper behind it remains.

As your hand moves to touch the mouth-shaped bruise on your throat, you somehow find comfort in the broken arch of charms.

[trancylovecraft]

Can I request a yandere Kokushibo piece where his s/o is a Hashira that has somehow mastered Moon breathing. Sorry if it’s too vague but I loved your other Kokushibo pieces. Feel free to ignore this if it doesn’t interest you tho and I love all your work.

(KNY) YANDERE KOKUSHIBO x MOON HASHIRA! READER: Headcannons

• Interesting prompt! I like it. (Tysm too btw :> cant ignore such nice words lol. Sorry it took so long)

• Kokushibo in general I headcannon to be very possessive, Protective and obsessive.

• These traits only skyrocket once he finds you.

• You, The Moon Hashira take a lot of pride of pride in your style, One that you assumed you invented yourself.

• Its only once you come face to face with Kokushibo when hunting for demons is when you realise that’s false.

• Kokushibo on first sight think’s you’re a rather attractive person. He doesn’t say anything but he does gain an interest though it is mostly about your appearance as a good meal to absorb.

• Said interest becomes an obsession however once you finally show off Moon Breathing. He’s stunned, Yet in absolute exhiliration too.

• As a human, Michikatsu wanted a way to preserve his breathing technique, He had no sucessors. Yorichii tried to tell him it didn’t matter but of course Michikatsu didn’t agree much.

• But seeing you here is like seeing his legacy come to fruition. He’s frozen in admiration and joy as you come running at him with one of your attacks ready to behead him.

• You’re strong of mind too, You were able to charge at him instead of freeze in fear at the mere sight of him.

• Suddenly inside his cold dead heart he could feel it grow three times bigger that day. Something about you was just amazing, And he had to have it.

• So as you charge at him, Yelling out your next move you can see him running towards you as well.

• And in a split second everything goes blank, You fall to the ground unconscious and your sword skitters away from your grasp.

• Kokushibo stands over you, All six of his eyes watching your figure with great interest. He can’t kill you yet, You are his legacy and his mark in history. You’ve gained his attention.

• Your kasugai crow, Who was sitting in the tree nearby tried to fly off for help. But was instantly struck down by one of Kokushibo’s swords.

• Can’t let any more pests intervene with with his work

• You wake up in some house deep inside the japanese wilderness. Away from any society or village with your only company being the animals and your new captor

• Your sword is gone. Your legs are chained to your bed and the door in the room is locked.

• Kokushibo is already there to tell you how this is going to go. You are now nothing more than a possession, You cannot leave the house and he says it in such a brash way that it almost makes you cry harder.

• If you try to attack him he will not take it. He will slap you to the side and you’ll be too out of it afterwards to continue.

• You’re usually not let out and your weapon is nowhere in sight, However Kokushibo tends to take you out once a month or so to train with him.

• Of course, You have ankle weights and your sword is made of bamboo so you cant do anything other than bonk him on the head with it. So killing him is off the table.

• You can still use your breathing techniques though, And he wants you to show them off to him.

• He also tries to converse with you about the breathing style, As anti-social as he is he does want someone to talk to about moon breathing since you two are the only ones in history to wield it

• He asks you how you were able to master it. Did you learn it from someone or come up with it on your own? How long have you used it? How many forms have you been able to use?

• He gets really irritated when you just ignore him in favour of spitting insults, He doesn’t tolerate that kind of disrespect and tosses you back into your shared bedroom.

• Oh right, You two also share a bed. You are his wife so it is only right <3

• If this was a platonic scenario then he might’ve considered you his apprentice or his Tsuguko. However since this is romantic he considers you to be his wife and refers to you as such.

• Anyone you might’ve known in your time as a Hashira gets hunted down by him. Any co-workers you mention? Dead in a ditch somewhere. Anyone you’re particularly friendly with? Gone!

• God forbid you have a husband, Kokushibo will not hesitate.

• If you ever have kids, May it be from stockholm syndrome or something much more vile. Kokushibo will be teaching them moon breathing and will expect you to help out.

• If you do fall into stockholm then he will soften up and use moon themed petnames to match your breathing

• Little moon, My crescent.

• Its cheesy.

• Either way this man loves that you know moon breathing, He adores you for it.

• A little too much, But I’m sure its nothing to worry about 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being the reason my mom and her boyfriend broke up?

My (23) mom has been with this person since I was 7 years old. They do not nor have they ever lived together (in fact, he lives a state away and drives here every thursday-sunday). To his credit, he has shown up for me for orchestra concerts, graduation, flight pick ups, etc almost my whole life whereas my dad has not. However I have not liked him since I was around 17 years old (we were in the middle of a very long drive two states away from home yet AT NIGHT. My mom has high anxiety and can't see very well at night and he screamed at her for not driving but then didn't even stop the car to let her drive anyway?? And when she started crying he jerked the radio up to the highest volume and ignored me kicking and yelling at him in the back because I could've driven instead but whatever)

Anyway. He has a history of tantrums and outbursts like the above. He's never been violent, but one time he hid my mom's cat's ashes just to upset her. He broke her potted plants, showed up at her work to yell at her more, etc. Thanksgiving of 2020, he had me cornered against the wall and was screaming in my face about how ungrateful and disrespectful I am because I didnt talk to him enough while I was home for break. We ended up having to leave our house and stay at a friend's.

And yet my mom forgave him because he cried and apologized to her. But never to me. And she expected me to forgive and move on because she "knows he has a good heart."

Anyway anyway, my mom knew how I felt after that. To prevent him having meltdowns on Christmas or his birthday or fathers day, she would get him gifts and put my name on them. Which I never asked her to do.

Well this year for Christmas he decided I once again was not being grateful or respectful or appreciate enough to/for him. My mom told me to call him and apologize and I said no, because he's never apologized to me and I didn't think I had even done anything. Plus, if I DID apologize out of nowhere for not meeting his expectations he would've known my mom told me to do so.

I was on the long drive home for break when they got into a big fight about me. He asked her if she would choose him or me and she chose me. He broke the brand new TV she bought him for Christmas and the entertainment stand it was on. They haven't seen each other since.

My mom says it's not my fault, but I feel like I've always been the one wedging between them. I'm the one who couldn't let things go, I'm the one who obviously avoids him, I'm the one who won't accept his apologies through a third party. She says this is for the best because they're on different paths and now she can focus on herself, her own happiness, and her faith (which is very important to her and not at all for him).

I just wish my mom was able to come to this conclusion without me being the catalyst. There had to have been a better way to go about this. I don't think I'm blameless here. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[thesilverdiary]

This is far from the focus of this blog, but I found myself thinking – overthinking, really – and I needed to put this idea somewhere. So here we are.

They say a long-term relationship dies and reborn countless times. It’s not about how long you’ve been with someone, but about how willing you are to accept the new versions of them – and of yourself – that inevitably emerge along the way.

And this is what intrigues me: the gap that always seems to exist, even in the strongest relationships. As if time, while it strengthens, also wears things down. It’s not that love stops existing, but it changes – its place, its shape. And before you know it, something or someone appears – not as a threat, but as a reminder that there’s always space for the new, even when there shouldn’t be.

This makes me wonder: where does the “acceptable” end? Is there an actual limit, or are we just navigating unspoken agreements we pretend to understand? Because no one is immune to fascination with another person. It’s almost naive to believe that being in a relationship shields us from that. But maybe it’s not about what we feel – maybe it’s about what we choose to do with it.

And here lies the dilemma: is that inevitable space another person occupies a flaw? Or is it simply part of being human, like the erosion that slowly shapes a stone over time? Perhaps loving someone isn’t about closing off but about learning to endure. Not endure in the sense of fighting against what arises, but in the sense of consistently choosing what remains.

Even so, I can’t ignore the discomfort. How open can we be without disrespecting what we’ve built? Because a relationship isn’t just about presence; it also depends on boundaries. And those boundaries, no matter how flexible they might seem, don’t exist to imprison us but to protect us. They are what remind us that love, above all, is an act of responsibility.

What’s most curious is that, even knowing this, the doubt lingers. Because, in the end, the pull of something new isn’t about it being better; it’s about its simplicity. The new comes unburdened by layers—unlike what you’ve built, which carries the weight of shared histories, silent gaps, and imperfect truths. And yet, maybe that’s where love finds its depth—not in avoiding the weight, but in learning how to carry it.

Oh, boy. Maybe a little too cliché? Maybe it is, but give me a break—it’s five am where I am. 😬

[alatismeni-theitsa]

Γεια Θείτσα!! Ευχαριστώ για blog σου! It’s kind of sad but many of my older family members are very disrespectful toward Roma people. Like they constantly throw around slurs (I understand now that G***s’y is a slur for aroma people) with the intention of insulting someone, and when we visit family in Greece, they constantly tell me to watch out for them because “they steal things.”I’m sorry if this is an uncomfortable topic or if there’s unrest/controversy around anti-Roma sentiment in Greece. I’m very out of the loop on Greek politics, so feel free to not answer this if you don’t want to. Anyways, my question is: how prevalent would you say, from your experience, is anti-Roma sentiment in Greece? Also, sorry if you’ve already answered this question, feel free to refer me to a tag or another post if that’s the case!

Hello! This is controversial for Tumblr (not for Greek residents, they know what's up) but if we stopped talking about every controversial issue then we wouldn't improve shit, would we?

I want to be 100% realistic here, so I will explain stuff as directly as possible. I'd like you to understand the reason behind the bigotry, and I want you to understand the situation beyond "oooo g*ies steaal". You can't argue for a situation you don't know and the other side (your older relatives) will dismiss your arguments because they will know you don't know.

Naturally, I will mention some negative things some Roma do. It might be convenient for us to remain cuddled and ignore reality while living a more privileged life but this actually won't push us or anyone else to resolve these social issues. Besides, all the things I will mention are things that many Roma speak about, too, because they are aware that what other Roma do affects their own future as well.

Also this is about Roma in Greece and the specific situation in Greece. I ask for people from other countries to not make assumptions on this post about the country if they cannot back them up with experience or local knowledge.

When one speaks about issues in the Roma community it's important how and why they do it. If they do it to insinuate that all Roma people are bad and that they steal, then yes it's an issue. There's also the informative approach, which I will take. I have lived next to and near Roma families, as have some of my friends, and on the street, I had various interactions with them. I have seen firsthand the positive stuff and the issues, and almost everything I will mention here is what I've seen with my own eyes.

To be clear, this blog supports the Roma struggle and the Roma Uprising as the call of "Opre Roma!" describes it. The Roma (or Tsiganoi, as they most often call themselves in Greece) should have the right to education and social acceptance without needing to leave their culture behind. I have the tags #Roma and #Romani if you want to take a look at related posts.

By the way, "Tsiganos/-a" (Τσιγγάνος / -να) is also acceptable for the Roma in 2024 from this year's articles I've read and the Roma videos I've watched. Roma from other countries don't like this word too much, and I get why (it is because the Roma come from the "Untouchable" Caste of North India which is a history of bigotry in itself, and Tsiganos comes from the Greek for "Untouchable"). But each country and Roma community is different. It's not a slur afaik. But if you meet one, it is best to ask them what they'd like to be called because the landscape can shift.

To get the negative stuff out of the way, and then there will be good stuff.

First of all, some context. Traditionally Roma in Greece were involved in various trades but they always lived in their own community in the outskirts of some Greek villages. Of course, people of the same nationality, like the Greeks and the Slavs and the Hebrews and the Turks, usually lived in their own sub-area of a village. But the Roma were a bit more isolated.

The history of isolation goes centuries back because there was a constant self-sustained loop of the Roma being very Roma community-oriented and the outside world seeing them as foreigners. However, in older times, the Roma earned a living by doing all types of hard work more or less in sync with other nationalities and also collecting scrap. The bigotry was there but - at least from what I read - not in an intense way. It was more like "This is a Greek, this is an Albanian".

Unfortunately, in the modern age, most types of jobs they did became obsolete and poverty hit their communities. The old ostracization made it very difficult for them to sustain an income in the new era. In cases of such great poverty, it was sometimes considered acceptable to take from balamoi/gadje/"white people", precisely because of this imbalance of resources and the inherent cruelty of the balamoi towards them. (I mean, who wouldn't do anything to feed their own children?) Some of those attitudes have stuck until our days. Acquiring resources is very important for numerous Roma nowadays and sometimes these resources are not always taken legally.

So, yes, there are Roma in Greece who steal things. Yes, there are Roma parents use their babies and kids on the street to earn money (the babies are used for pity points while the mothers beg, the kids usually beg for money. (Once my aunt saw a baby that didn't look... alive on a Roma woman's bosom). This shows the desperate measures some Roma will resort to acquiring resources (sometimes it's not about survival, just acquisition) but it's also very systematic and it's considered like an "occupation" that brings resources.

Yes, there are a few Roma settlements like ghettos where the police are afraid to go, and there are drug networks and gangs. Yes, a friend had his bicycle stolen by Roma and he saw Roma frequently take the flowers he left on his uncle's grave. Yes, in Athens and Thessaloniki there are Roma markets with goods of... unspecified origin that I have strolled by. These goods were sold all together, and a stand could have album photos of non-Roma families, one pair of wedding crowns (stefana), and other unrelated objects found inside a house and unfortunately, they didn't look like they were taken from the trash. But since people throw all sorts of things away one could speculate that a good amount of those items were just taken off the trash - I, at least, hope so.

I cannot speak to how many Roma are involved in questionable acts but it is a noticeable amount that exists close to them. I suppose it was worse in the old times, or at least the prejudice against Roma was more intense back then and that's why your family believes that it's better to guard yourself in case you meet a Roma on the streets of Greece who wants to sell you something. But I have the sense they do it out of the "stranger danger" mindset (because Roma communities are separated from the rest) and because they learned to hate this group of people with a dangerous intensity.

All people are innocent until proven otherwise and I know for sure that your family cannot prove this unfair generalization about all Roma. They cannot even prove it for the Roma who approach them on the street. Many Roma in Greece "don't look" Roma (aka they don't dress like, or don't braid their hair the Roma way, similar to the traditional NW Indian ways). So Greeks don't "clock" them, and that's why they cannot claim they have a good idea of Roma demographics.

Besides, the biggest Thieves of this country are our politicians, our mafia bosses, our powerful businessmen. They steal millions each year and most of them are Greek. If I started counting the times Greeks have stolen stuff (big and small) we would be here for the next 100 years.

There are various programs for helping Roma families by the Greek state and some private organizations but I feel like the anti-Romani sentiment in Greece is still strong. As you can imagine, the negative sightings a Greek resident can have from Roma on the street can cause many prejudices to build. But of course, there are always two sides.

An ostracised community has various problems and these problems make the others ostracise them even more. Many Roma have found themselves in this unfortunate situation. Greeks rarely give Roma chances so they can improve their social and financial standing. Not to mention, due to all that exterior distrust, some Roma communities remain in their shell and can get defensive toward outsiders - because nobody else will defend them. But this defending behaviour can go out of hand and hurt other citizens (with bullets) who start to see the Roma community even less favourably.

But as I said this super defensive behaviour and pack mentality exists because the state - and the police - won't protect the Roma. Instead, many times they enact extreme violence against them, and then some Roma groups answer with more criminal behaviour. Today it's a chicken and egg situation in terms of who dislikes who, although it is clear that the persecuted side is the Roma people.

One recent example of anti-Roma sentiment is when a 16-year-old Roma stole a car and the police thought it good to shoot him in the head - which killed him. Is a bullet to the head - murder - a proper "punishment" for a teen stealing a car?? And, of course, the policemen were punished very lightly for killing a person, a teen! Roma lives are not seen as important as the rest by the Greek society, the media, the police. But Roma lives are often the most vulnerable on the streets.

I focused on the negative stuff so far to explain the situation but I don't want to end this post without positive examples for a people who have struggled so much.

Roma people work very hard and they will do their very best with the hand they've been dealt in life. They do difficult and low-paying jobs which often have the most risk. They are the powerhouse behind festivals and folk entertainment (e.g. panygyria). They will work the fields and they will gather (and at times sell) crops. If they are not particularly skilled in a trade, they will do simpler things like selling balloons and flowers on the street or offering fortune-telling services.

I admire the zeal with which many Roma want to improve their situation. The struggles might hit them hard but they never give up. Contrary to the gloomy image presented before, many Roma live in peaceful and happy settlements, they have a decent fortune and big houses where they host dancing parties and enjoy family moments with their kids. Their festivities are grand and their music - which often has lyrics that reflect their generational struggles - is sent from the heavens. (Greeks love it and they have incorporated musical elements of it in their own folk music)

Their language is ancient with great significance and very interesting variations even within the Greek borders. Apart from being resilient, they can also be very open, sharing their customs and language online for all to learn - from TikTok to the stage of the Stavros Niarhos foundation. They are very aware of the biases against them and as always they face difficulties with their head high and a healthy dose of humor. A Roma man joked the other day on TikTok "Why does a Tsiganos cry when they watch the Titanic? Because he sees all this metal wasted!" (Many Roma gather and sell scrap metal for a living)

Okay, I think that's it!

I am sorry but I don't want to shy away from the crimes and the difficulties like the Americans who only know how to say "Greece has an anti-Romani sentiment problem", as if the issue can be resolved with good wishes and stardust and doesn't have a complex past and present - which they don't care to learn. They only know how to parrot stuff from textbooks and they couldn't start a normal conversation with a Roma in a million years.

Oh, and if I see ONE disingenuous fuck say stuff like "You say that some Roma steal so you enhance the anti-Roma sentiments" I'm gonna block this shit. Congrats, you earned your White Knight online badge of the day but the problem still exists and ofc you are not going to do anything about it. Greek Roma themselves try to tackle thievery and begging practices (which is the reason why many Roma kids don't attend school) and corruption and abuse within their own communities but I am expected to conceal this when online, and pretend that all is rainbows and roses?

[destinyc1020]

Lawwwd....what in the world?? 🥴

These parts of the article had me....

Daaaang! Who in Hollywood did Timmy piss off? 😂

ANYWAY....

I knew when I got multiple anons about this story on Timothee that something was up! 👀

Chiiiiiile.... I honestly had not heard about this. I've been pretty off Tumblr most of this weekend.

Anyway, I can't speak for Mangold cuz Idk much about him, but with regards to Timmy, all I'll say is, I have NEVER heard reports like this about Timothee and his "behavior", especially not on set. He's always seemed pretty chill, friendly, and not at all like a "diva". 🥴 I've never known him to be telling people not to look him in the eye either. That's just weird! I wonder if he got paranoid filming this movie or something? I've never known him to be this way!

I almost feel like I would have heard something like this about him before if this were a pattern with him. I'm still trying to figure out if this story is like the Tom Cruise one where he was caught on camera getting irate with a crew member, but it was actually for the person's safety, or if this is a legit behavioral problem that Timothee has. 🤔

Based on the fact that they went to the Daily FAIL with this info (I'll ignore the fact that the news story is coming from the Daily Fail - of all places lol ) I'm assuming the crew member(s) who came forth must have some real tea if they went to a news outlet about it.

Idk what to say anon... Is the man just stressed out cuz of this Bob Dylan biopic role? I know it's a lot of pressure. I also know stress can make some people do/say some pretty crazy things. 🥴

I'm not making excuses for him... I just find these allegations very surprising because I have NEVER heard (or seen) reports or even seen my own personal observations of Timmy ever being disrespectful to anybody. Whereas with SOME actors, there has usually been a history of bad/rude/cruel behavior towards fans/staff/crew members, etc. I've usually never seen that with Timmy.

I guess there's a first time for everything though. 🤷🏾‍♀️🥴

I'm going to have to hear more about this craziness that took place on set. It sounds like (based on what's reported) that it was a very toxic filming environment for the cast/crew, and especially the supportive workers behind the scenes. That's sad to hear. 😔

I was excited for this project, but hearing these rumors coming from set makes me feel a little less happy about it.

[taffywabbit]

I generally agree with most of the things you post about, but that recent reblog just really rubs me the wrong way. I think I understand the frustration's the OP got, but I don't know, it sorta comes across to me as "I just WISH people would've came to this realization in THIS SPECIFIC WAY" which is just...unrealistic? I feel as though it's almost a slap in the face to Bushnell himself, who probably knew exactly why he had to do what he did. He knew a lot of people WOULDN'T pay attention unless someone like him did something. An unfortunate reality, but, one that seems to at the very least worked. It is sad that he had to do such a thing, but at the same time I don't think it's in the right place to blame such people for not coming to this realization beforehand. I feel these people are vindicated for having been able to be drawn to whats happening. HOW they were drawn in really shouldn't...matter? I think there are people far more worthy of criticism and scorn than those whose eyes were opened by something closer to home than our own. And I think it's extremely disrespectful to Bushnell's act to look at the reaction of it and complain that it served as a catalyst for some people when they should've been more aware from the get go. Should they have? Yes. Is it realistic to expect the vast majority of the North American populace to be that aware of whats going on? No. Sadly. It isn't. Which is exactly why Bushnell did what he did.

i didn't really take it that way, i read it more as merely regret that it took this long AND such a blatant, violent display of protest for the reality of the situation to finally reach a lot of people (particularly in light of how much western news media outlets have been trying to keep the specifics and severity out of the public eye). i looked at that post not as any sort of disrespect towards Bushnell's sacrifice, but rather a frustration with how numb people often are to seeing faceless numbers and statistics in connection with tragedies these days. most american/canadian/british/etc news media LOVES to focus on "main characters" - people you can easily put a name and face to and plaster all over the headlines for people to discuss - and until there's someone like that to latch onto, folks are conditioned to feel like it's none of their business and those big numbers are merely an ongoing fact they cannot change.

if Aaron Bushnell's public suicide was the tipping point for someone to take more active interest in the Palestinian struggle, and reconsider the distorted/suppressed information they may have been receiving about it, that's undeniably a positive outcome and it would be wrong to assert otherwise. that was the goal, that was what he set out to accomplish. the risk comes from overemphasizing him as an individual martyr in all of this, at the cost of pushing the direct victims of the genocide out of the spotlight. considering (as far as i'm aware) the OP of that post i reblogged IS Palestinian, has personally lost loved ones to Israel's violence, and has been a consistent and invaluable resource over the past few months for educating people about the context and history of Palestine's struggles, i'm inclined to try not to take their post about this in bad faith. it doesn't really feel like my place to police their tone, frankly.

ultimately i can't speak on OP's behalf and i also can't control whether other people take away the same things i did from that post. but my personal belief is that Aaron Bushnell's act was bold and selfless and it's deeply unfortunate that things have reached a point where he felt it was necessary. i just also believe that he didn't do it to make himself the center of attention. i have no doubt that his status as a white american military serviceman is a factor in why many people are finally taking this as a wake-up call when they ignored all the previous ones, but i also think he understood that himself to some extent, and used that position of privilege (as well as the shock factor of defying what many americans expect from a man wearing their flag on his shoulder) to help ensure the message was heard by demographics of people who otherwise might not listen. to treat his sacrifice as a singular unique act, rather than one in a chain of many, and to give it special attention and fanfare when that energy could instead be turned to those who are still in need of it, feels like it runs directly counter to his goals. i think we should acknowledge and appreciate Bushnell's effort to sway more people in Palestine's favor, but not let it derail the greater conversation too much for those of us who are already engaged in this cause and do not need further convincing. he used his position to reach people, and it's our job to continue the momentum and help make sure those people know what their newly altered perspective should lead them to do. mourn the dead and fight like hell for the living, as they say

[lunarshadowfae]

My friend is pregnant with the baby of a man who hates her.

I’ve known this girl (let’s call her Cassie) for 8 years and I’ve known this man (let’s call him Mike) even longer. Mike and Cassie have a rough history together. They first dated 7 or 8 years ago for a short period of time (less than a year) and ended things very badly from what I know. Cassie’s (best)friend and my sister in law (let’s call her Paula) has privately told me that she thinks Mike a narcissist, from what Cassie had told her about their relationship. Fast forward to last year they started dating again and they have been together for a year now.

I have gotten to know Mike very well as he is my Fiancés childhood best friend. A group of us play video games together almost every weekend for the past few years. We also spend time with both of them at least a few times a year. Cassie on the other hand, I do not know as well but we have spent many occasions together in book club, friendsgiving, game nights, ect.

My husband and I have heard Mike say a lot of terrible things about Cassie in discord. We decided to stay out of it because it is truly none of our business. My husband and I both agree it is not right to tell anyone our personal business regarding our relationship. We wish Mike and Cassie agreed, but they love to gossip.

Mike has been complaining about Cassie since the beginning of their relationship last year. He would say things like “I’m not going to date her” “I’m just using her for sex” objectifying her, degrading her. After telling Paula what we heard him say, she agreed that they should not be together and they are toxic. She called him a narcissist, and we jokingly agreed. Paula told Cassie about this, and Cassie insisted he loved her and treated her right, and these remarks were just jokes.

But it kept getting worse, they started fighting a lot, Mike would say awful things and I would bite my tongue thinking I was being too sensitive and I would just start more drama if I said anything out of line. She would have to beg him to spend time with her, otherwise he would be playing video games constantly. Or doing something to ignore her, they would fight everyday about this and Mike would NOT mute his mic. We would have to move him into an AFK channel to stop us from unwillingly eavesdropping into their conversations.

I hated the way he would speak to her, if my husband ever spoke to me that way I would be so miserable and depressed so I felt really bad for her and I was sad for her. Mikes friends would egg him on to say awful things to her. If you could hear her voice through his mic, they would say “tell her to shut the fuck up” and someone else would say “yeah seriously dumb bitch”. The situation has gotten increasingly worse for months and my cowardly ass finally said something.

Mike and Cassie were fighting last night because Cassie wanted to spend time with him and he was ignoring her for a video game. Mike started gaslighting her and saying awful things to her being really mean and hurtful. She asked him if he was moving their game table to the dining room and he said “yeah either in there or in here (office/gaming room) I don’t want to be anywhere near you”. She said “why are you so mean?” And he said “how am I mean? I’m joking.” It didn’t help that he was also being egged on by his friends, they were laughing at these deplorable “jokes”.

After the interaction was over I said, “Awkward… I’m glad (my husband) mutes when we fight.” And then I got off. I’m really disgusted with Mike as he has become someone I don’t even know anymore. I feel awful that Cassie has to endure a man like this.

Cassie told us all a month ago that she was pregnant. I was shocked but ultimately I was supportive and happy for her as she was ecstatic! I was worried because my husband and I knew how toxic the relationship was and how disrespectful he was to her. I want the best for both of them because I love them and care about them but things are just out of control and they are lacking some serious self awareness. They are not in any place to be having a kid. Mike has said on many occasions that he does not want kids, and he would never marry Cassie or any woman. He has said things like “I should have pulled out” and “I fucked up” multiple times.

I feel like I’m watching my friend’s life fall apart in front of my eyes and it’s really sad and hard to watch. I know that friend groups break up and people go on their own paths but this is just sickening to watch. Having a kid myself I understand just how tough it is on a relationship to have a baby. Let alone the massive responsibility having a baby is and the sacrifices you have to make for a child. You have to surrender yourself for a new person and if you don’t, poor kid. It’s just too much to deal with so I’m sending it into the world. If you have read this far.. let’s be friends?

Signing out, Lu

[hazbinned]

Important notes for my personal portrayal of Valentino - Background and Headcanons. Because this has been his story forever, and yet I just realized I had never compiled these in a post and that nobody knows any of this unless you read through all his threads in search of crumbs or have discussed it with me in IMs.

TW: Era-typical homophobia + abuse + Valentino topics. If you continue reading, you should know what to expect.

Valentino is of mostly Puerto Rican heritage and was born to immigrant parents in 1940, in the East Coast of the United States (Florida) as the second eldest of four boys (brothers being Pablo, Francisco, and Denzel). He grew up in a rough neighborhood, as his father was involved in some crime and petty gang activity that, for the most part, Valentino and his siblings were excluded from. Valentino spent most of his childhood and teen years left to his own devices, causing trouble with his brothers and friends for the fun of it. He was haughty, leaned toward being a bully, and never faced the consequences of his actions right from the start.

(His parents hardly paid attention to him, so he could do whatever he wanted— he did, however, learn some cooking from his mother, and some very basic firearm skills from his father.)

Valentino was always feminine in many ways, which his family mostly just commented on or tried to ignore, until he started getting older and it went from a 'quirk' to something they saw as a problem. In his early adulthood, he was caught with a man, and fallout ensued. Val ditched his family and then the state, and eventually, in the 1960s, wound up in LA, where he was almost immediately reeled in by a pimp (who was also his dealer/sugar daddy/eventual film director).

They had a genuine friendship for a handful of years, both of them being in it for the money and other benefits— Val wound up living in the guy's mansion and starred in adult films for him, and felt like a real celebrity. During this time, Val adopted his signature heart glasses into his look (though he mostly wore them as an accessory on top of his head), and was gifted two exotic birds by his pimp: a green rose-ringed parakeet and a red parrot, which he named Versace and Ferrari respectively. (He was extremely attached to both of the birds, and both of them outlived him.)

Good things never last forever, though, and Val's pimp started wanting him to film things that he was just not comfortable with— when Val voiced this (and the fact that he'd rather star in dominant roles), the friendly and mutually beneficial side of their relationship withered up and died, giving way to disrespect and physical abuse (often with the strike of a gun). Val was told he could leave anytime he wanted, but that his pimp wasn't going to help him— he'd essentially be broke and homeless. Feeling trapped, he opted to stay, and put up with a couple more years of that... until, finally, he knocked off his pimp and took control of the mansion and the entire operation.

It was during this that he started wearing his sunglasses over his eyes, and truly grew into the version of 'Valentino' that everyone knows. He became a pimp himself, and continued starring in films (of his own volition and creative direction) until he died at age 38 to a shot to the head.

Val, for the most part, landed on his feet in Hell and immediately just started doing what he was best at in life. He performed a lot more in the beginning, and his natural charisma (plus his new addictive pheromone) made it easy for him to start accumulating souls. Minus a few setbacks (such as his pheromone lending to some uncomfortable encounters here and there) he was on the easy road to success.

He and Vox met and the two of them immediately hit it off, and started supporting each other (financially and otherwise-- friends, to business partners, to unstable life partners, to lovers). The rest is history.

ADDITIONAL HEADCANONS.

Val does not perform much anymore. He still can, but he prefers just sitting around and making other people do things now. He hasn't appeared on stage in person for years, and hasn't starred in any published films for even longer. It has been since the early/mid 2000s, at least.

Val's eyes had started failing in the last few years of his life, and this carried over into his Hell-form. He finds it humiliating and refuses to get help.

Val has never faced lasting consequences for any of his actions, which is in part responsible for him being the way he is. He thinks he can get away with everything because he can get away with everything.

Val's communication style is extremely physical. Even when he's not trying to be controlling, he kind of still is if he's manhandling someone.

He's very paranoid about a second, more permanent death (or even a fall from grace), as he loves his life in Hell and does not want to lose it. He's scared that Angel will continue the cycle he started and kill him, or that he will somehow wind up with the tables turned and find himself in Angel's shoes. He will do anything to keep this from happening.

Sometimes, when he gets really worked up or emotional or high, he unintentionally lets out a more vulnerable side of himself-- closer to how he was during life. He hates that, it gives him the ick... especially when Angel is privy. (This is NOT the same playful attitude he sports around Vox and Velvette and other people he likes. It's very similar, but it's different. He doesn't mind as much when Vox or Velvette are witness to it.)

Val was never innocent, kind, or a 'good person,' although he can seem this way to those he is manipulating, as well as to his loved ones (as he is generally fun to be around if he likes you. Bad people typically aren't bad to everyone, and Valentino has his own circle of people he likes and respects-- namely Vox and Velvette.) His arc was not one of a good person becoming a villain. He was always villain-adjacent, he simply went from 'toxic' to 'awful.'

Valentino stood at an extremely tall 6'7" during life.

The last one is suggestive ala the read-more:

Val is a dom. He just really doesn't enjoy not being so, although there are some exceptions where he is genuinely chill with switching it up, like if he's in a certain mood or if it's a special occasion and Vox really wants that, or if his partner is someone he views as more powerful and cooler than him (ala 'celebrity crush' like Asmodeus-- not just anyone with power). He can kinda get into it then, but he has to LOVE you, respect you, trust you, AND find you attractive. Generally, though, he doesn't like relinquishing control ever and his partner would have to be someone who is okay with that. A teeny tiny bit of this is a trauma response but it's primarily just who he is.

[theweeklydiscourse]

So I wanted to talk about a post I saw earlier today. Usually I try to resist the urge to engage with these sorts of things, but I felt that it was demonstrative of an all too common argument in the shadow and bone fandom. More specifically, it is a great illustration of the rampant misinformation and hypocrisy that many fans display on a daily basis.

So let’s break things down.

First of all, I’d like to call attention to the framing of this user’s claim. What exactly is she gesturing at here, and what message is communicated from this tweet? Their argument seems to read almost as a defence of Leigh Bardugo’s status as an abuse survivor. This user’s point is derived from a rumour in the fandom that the Darkling was a direct parallel to Bardugo’s abusive partner and that Darklina was a fictionalized version of her real-life relationship. So, by shipping darklina or engaging with the Darkling in a positive or sympathetic manner is disrespectful to Bardugo because it perverts and distorts her personal abuse narrative.

Oh wow. That seems very serious doesn’t it? How could these misguided readers be so ignorant and terrible that they disregard the experiences of a victim? That would be terrible! Except for the fact that this rumour is not true in the slightest and is at best, pure speculation. The pathos of this false story appeals to the fans feelings of sympathy for Bardugo and causes them to feel enraged that Darkling stans would disregard her negative experience and romanticize the abuse she suffered. This gives fans the ammunition they so desperately crave, for ship wars and inane fandom discourse in which they can accuse darklinas of being abuse apologists under a pseudo-progressive guise.

This is exactly why they never actually acknowledge that this story is at best, a misinterpreted rumour and at worst, an opportunistic wielding of an abuse survivor’s story to bolster fandom wars.

This entire narrative of “The Darkling is an allegory for Bardugo’s abusive relationship” relies on fans being willfully obtuse. They insist that you cannot sympathize with the Darkling because of this story while ignoring the fact that a sympathetic reading of his character is baked into the trilogy (ex. Demon in the Woods).They ignore that Bardugo herself has expressed her love for the Darkling as a character and has engaged with darklina content MULTIPLE TIMES. They deny the symbolic resonance of darklina and are eager to flatten what little nuanced characterization they possess in the books.

The irony is that they claim to respect Bardugo by protecting her trilogy from people who “romanticize abuse” and misinterpret the text, but at the very same time use her abusive relationship as a weapon in INANE YA LITERARY DISCOURSE!!! How can you act like you’re doing something good for abuse survivors when you are using a person’s real life history of abuse to justify dunking on other fans? Not to mention the anti-intellectualism of discouraging people from engaging with the text in ways they arbitrarily label as “bad” and “harmful” no matter how much textual evidence there is.

What can I say? Where would antis be without their distorting of reality to suit their narrative and bolster their justifications for harassment and bullying.

[thoodleoo]

complaining about tropification isn't complaining that a story has common themes or tropes. contrary to popular belief (what my middle school students think about me) i don't sit around reading nothing but hesiod and persius all day long. i read a lot of books, including very trope-y fiction. tropes are fine. read whatever you want forever and ever. i don't care about booktok all that much even if that's not how i want to engage with what i read because why should everyone have to read things the same way i do?

the problem with tropification is that it turns a larger story into catchy taglines that often ignore the cultural context of books that aren't america- or- anglocentric. why would an ancient greek epic share the same intentions in its narration as a romance or adventure novel written in the 21st century? the iliad isn't even authored by one single person. it's a story passed at first orally and only committed to paper far down the line. there's an old post of mine of a screenshot of tvtropes where the page for tsundere quotes catullus 85. and while that's insanely funny as a joke, if you tried to get me to seriously interact with catullan poetry by referring to catullus with a cultural concept that far removed from the time and society he lived, i would absolutely never pick that version of the story up.

i get that i'm not the target audience for a lot of these retellings, because i'm the kind of guy who wants to spend 3 hours contemplating the same 10 lines of the aeneid. but in so many of these retellings there's often almost like...a hostility toward the original story? like they're trying to "fix" aspects of it to make it more palatable to a modern audience, which feels disrespectful to the cultures they came from and disrespectful to the audience. i'm always going to be more intrigued by a story like mccullough's masters of rome- which makes some REAL bizarre choices at times but ultimately engages so deeply with our sources on rome's history that it's still a really neat read- than i am by yet another story where it turns out persephone is a girlboss and hates her mom and she and hades are a power couple. put a little more faith in your readers, y'know? and go read ursula k. le guin's lavinia. i'm begging all of you on my hands and knees to do this. do it for her (the aeneid)

>looking for a new retelling of ancient myth

>ask the reviewers if the book is classical reception or modern tropification

>they don't understand

>i pull out a diagram explaining the difference between what engages with ancient sources and depictions of the story and what relies on reduction of the story to its most marketable aspects

>they laugh and say "it's a good retelling"

>read the book

>its tropification

[minniepetals]

Rose & Thorns: 10

— summary: a lone rose, a little broken, until Jungkook came along and the two of you saved each other. and in doing so, Jungkook showed you a world where he shared with his six other mates.

— pairing: dragon!bts x reader

— genre: angst / slight fluff / poly!au / fantasy!au / dragon!au

— word count: 8.0k

— warnings: none

╰ part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10

You stood in the hall of the castle on the left of Namjoon while Hoseok stood on his right, faces grim and serious as you could feel all eyes on you with the intriguing fact that a Keeper was in their clan, a Keeper the clans haven’t had since hundreds of years ago. None of them were alive to live through the years when the first Keeper had been chosen so to know that another Keeper was made was quite fascinating to them, you were sure.

But you could also tell that some dragons still doubted your loyalty, knowing fully well how many of them did not have good histories with your kind. But you weren’t going to let them faze you. Namjoon often reminded you to look confident no matter how much they may scare you. After all, looking small and vulnerable in front of the dragons would only give them more doubt and you knew you had to gain their trust and show them that you were capable of being a Keeper more than anything.

As the steps of the leader of the Southern Clan began to echo into the room and the whispering voices died down, Namjoon took his respective bow with you and Hoseok automatically following along, heads lowered in respect as you stared at the floor below you.

It was nerve wracking being in a room full of dragons you had never seen before but you knew you had to remain strong.

“Prince Namjoon.” Surprisingly the voice was light and friendly as the prince spoke your leader’s name. He rose upon the call of his name with you and Hoseok following and could see the kind smile prince Daesung was giving him. “Welcome to our Clan.”

“Thank you,” Namjoon gave him a short nod before his gaze fell to Hoseok.

“Prince Hoseok.”

“Your highness.”

“And,” he turned his head your way and the moment his eyes met yours, you could see the way his eyes widened a little, falling silent at the sight of you with a delicate hand coming up to cover his mouth. “Oh my,” he whispered in a small gasp, blinking one moment before breaking into a bright smile that practically lit up the entire room and the next thing you knew he had rushed in front of you with his hands grabbing ahold of yours, squeezing it tight. “You didn’t tell me she was so adorable!” The prince squealed with delight, surprising you with a sudden embrace that caught you off guard and your eyes were quick to dart to your dragons with a flustered expression plastered onto your face.

The way their eyes darkened slightly almost brought shivers down your spine.

“Human girls are the cutest thing ever! I can’t believe I’m finally meeting one in real life!! Tell me!” He backed away just enough to face you again as you could feel yourself blushing at how close he was. “Keeper of the Dragons, what is your name, dear one?”

“U-uh,” you stuttered, feeling slightly uncomfortable by the close proximity but knowing not to be rude in his presence, “Y..Y/N.”

You thought his eyes had lit up even more. “What a pretty name! You’re so—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Hoseok quickly stepped in to grab you by the shoulder and pulled you back to his arms with a displeased look on his face. “Prince Daesung. Whether she is a human or not, you must remember that our Keeper is still a lady.”

“Oh my.” Totally ignoring Hoseok’s warnings, prince Daesung could only wiggle more with excitement as his eyes returned to you again. “I know jealousy when I see it and I must say, to woo the seven princes of the East Clan is quite a bold move of yours, precious Y/N.”

“Huh?” You began to panic as your hands came up to wave with denial. “No, I-I didn’t—”

“Not that I’m saying it’s a bad thing. I would do the same if I had the pretty looks you do. How’d they find such an adorable face such as yourself? Or did you find them first? I’m sure these possessive dragons stole you away to make you fall in love with them, didn’t they?”

“W-wait! They didn’t—”

“Prince Daesung, stop teasing the little one already.” Namjoon let out a tired sigh.

“I can’t help it!” The prince chortled with a sly grin. “She’s even more pretty when she blushes so easily like that.”

You could see his followers looking away or hanging their heads in shame at their prince’s words and you realized that you were totally baited by the South Clan’s leader, making you even more embarrassed than before.

As if reading your thoughts, Hoseok gave you a squeeze. “Don’t worry. Prince Daesung likes to spew nonsense so don’t take him too seriously.”

Offended, prince Daesung gave out a dramatic gasp. “Rude!”

“Forgive me for the impolite behavior of my dear brother.” You turned at the sound of the voice that was laced with poised to find a young lady a few feet taller than you. She had her head bowed with a hand rested against her heart, showing both grace and a dignified manner and you could tell almost immediately who she was after learning a few things about the South Clan. “Are you alright, milady?” Princess Soyeon asked with a slight concern as she addressed you.

“Yes, your highness,” you told her with a small smile, a bit taken back by how different the two siblings were.

She returned the smile with her own before turning to her brother with a displeased glare. “Not only is Y/N a lady but she is also the sole Keeper of the Dragons. You cannot disrespect the lady like that.”

Her scolding made prince Daesung look away with a pout. “You cannot expect me to ignore the cute.”

“Would you like to feel the wrath of our neighboring princes as well?”

Though the prince did not respond to that as he refused to meet his sister’s glare, you cocked your head slightly to the side with confusion upon her words. “Wrath?”

Princess Soyeon looked back at you with softer eyes and a faint smile as she eyed your two princes. “Us dragons are very possessive creatures. If anyone tries to touch our treasures, it may turn into conflicts. They may not look like it but I am sure prince Namjoon and prince Hoseok weren’t exactly fond of my brother touching you.”

You looked over your shoulder at the two of them who stood tall behind you and found Namjoon meeting your eyes with a slight raise to his brow almost as if confirming the assumption of the princess, making your cheeks warm up again.

“Again, please forgive my brother. I will make sure he does not do anything to offend you again.”

“Ah, it…” you shook your head with a smile, “it’s alright.”

“Now then,” with a sudden clap echoing into the large room, prince Daesung began to dismiss the members of his clan. “You’ve gotten a good look at our dear Keeper and see that she is a beautiful lady and anyone beautiful is worth trusting so—”

“Our relationship with the Eastern Clan is clear enough to show that we have no reason to mistrust them,” princess Soyeon stated in a loud, clear voice as she totally ignored the voice of her brother who responded with a glare of his own. But even though she had interrupted him, he let her go on to address the crowd. “We all know that the only way a human can become a Keeper is through the will of our own ancestors and we know never to question their decisions. If they have chosen Y/N as the new Keeper of the Dragons then that is the decision that we must accept. If anyone has any problem with that, know that you will be going against our own ancestors.”

Her voice, so poised and filled with charisma, was enough to let her warriors know that she wasn’t going to tolerate anyone that would go against having you as their Keeper and for that, you felt so thankful to the princess.

Once the room finally cleared away and all that was left were the five of you along with a few trusted warriors of the Southern Clan, you knew it was all business now.

“Your highnesses,” Namjoon began and it was enough to let the princess understand what he wanted to discuss.

She turned to follow her brother as she spoke and the rest of you followed along to their steps. “I am sure you must be wanting to discuss the agreement between the three clans upon accepting the Keeper.”

“That’s correct,” he gave a firm nod.

You walked beside Hoseok, silently listening in as your nerves began to reappear once again. You knew it wasn’t going to be easy even if the South Clan seemed friendly but you hoped things would work out well in the end.

“The other clans may not be as lenient but we do not plan on using Y/N for all of the wars that will be fought in the future,” she was quick to assure. “Whether she is a Keeper or not, we will not lay so low as to use someone outside of our clan as a tool in order to fight our wars.”

“Besides,” chiming in, you met the eyes of the prince as he looked over his shoulder for a brief moment and sent you a smirk, “who would want to send a beautiful lady into the battlegrounds?” He turned back again, sounding a little more exasperated this time. “However, we all know prince Hyungwoo and prince Seojoon aren’t going to be as kind as us.”

As the door to a room opened up, you all walked into their meeting hall and immediately took your seats in order to continue discussing.

“The princes of the North and West know not to reject a Keeper but you must be prepared for what challenges they will have you facing.”

You tilted your head slightly to the side at princess Soyeon. “Challenges?”

“To see how powerful you can be.”

“They won’t do anything unethical now will they?” Hoseok frowned.

“If they realize the little one has joined your little circle of lovers then perhaps they will take not offending you more into account,” prince Daesung opined with a light shrug. “But the two of them are quite unpredictable, especially prince Hyungwoo of the North, so it’s best to keep your guard up. Prince Seojoon is rational but it’s hard to please that man.” He propped his elbow upon the grand table, resting his chin onto his hand as he looked at you with sympathetic eyes. “Be careful, dear Y/N, dragons can be quite prideful and if someone comes in to threaten their position in this little game of ours, it can get a little nasty.”

You could feel a shiver running down your spine but it fell away too soon as you felt Hoseok’s hand suddenly holding yours. When you turned your head towards him, he graced you with a kind smile. “There’s no need to be afraid, we’ll be right there with you,” he whispered softly, allowing your heart to relax again.

“Major wars do not occur very often,” princess Soyeon added truthfully, “and if they do, we often deal with it on our own with our own dragons. But if there is ever an emergency that forces us to seek help, I hope that you will allow us to call for you.”

“Of course,” you gave her a firm nod with a determined gaze. “I will be prepared for the day I am asked to help fight the wars.”

She returned the nod just as firmly before letting herself relax just for a moment to spare you a small smile. “Thank you, Keeper, and thank you princes of the East for finding her.”

It was their unquestioned trust in you that made you believe in yourself more.

.

.

“What are you thinking about?”

The prince had allowed your stay in the South as the sun was already beginning to set by the time the meeting was over and as you sat on the grand bed prepared for you and your princes, Namjoon took a seat beside you after changing into proper sleepwear, wondering why you looked so distant all on your own.

You didn’t want to bother them with your concerns so you shook your head lightly with a faint smile thrown his way to try and ease the tension that hadn’t faded from the moment the three of you left the Eastern mountains.

“Right now it feels just right to take up prince Daesung’s offer to stay here a while longer and postpone our travel plans for the West and North, doesn’t it? I know you’re anxious,” Hoseok said with a wry smile as he went on to sit beside you on your other side.

“But,” Namjoon took ahold of your hand and placed it on top of his palm where it rested upon his lap, and began to rub small circles on the back of your hand as a way of comfort, “I know you miss the others and cannot wait to go home.”

How was it that they knew you so well? You could still recall those moments when they couldn’t trust a word you said and had treated you poorly but looking at them at this moment, you could find nothing but love in their eyes and that alone warmed your cold, anxious heart.

“It hasn’t even been a day,” you lamented as your eyes cast down to the gentle hands that were still caressing yours. “I miss them so much.”

“You’re right,” Hoseok said in a soft manner as he thought back to that morning the three of you took your leave and placed an arm over your shoulders with a small squeeze. “It isn’t often we go our separate ways outside of our lands.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” Namjoon said, nodding. “There are some of us who haven't even seen the world outside our own lands despite being princes.”

Your eyes widened a bit at the revelation. “No way. Who?”

“Jimin and Taehyung.”

“Why is that?”

“Jimin looks after our prisoners, as you know, so it really doesn’t matter much to him because he’s sadly almost always in the dungeons. As for Taehyung, the younger one has to look after the little ones so he doesn’t get out much either,” explained Hoseok. It made sense, you should have known of those facts before they even told you but it still made it sad to be able to hear of the two of them being stuck in the clan everyday.

“So what are the occasions when traveling outside our lands?” You asked them.

Namjoon gave you a small grin. “Well for one, meetings like these. But I have meetings with the clan leaders every full moon. Usually Yoongi will accompany me on those nights. That’s why some days we go missing and are nowhere to be found inside the clan. Seokjin travels if he needs to find special herbs or wishes to learn more about plants and remedies that don't exist on our lands.”

“Those are what he calls his errands,” Hoseok said almost in a whisper as he sent you a wink, causing your mouth to form into a little circle at the epiphany.

“That’s why he takes so long and sometimes comes back so late? I would have loved to accompany him on those journeys.”

They both shared a chuckle.

“You’ve had some bad encounters when leaving the clan, I’m sure hyung only left you out for your sake,” Hoseok explained gently as he stroked your hair before proceeding on. “Jungkook and I sometimes have to do secret patrols that take place outside our lands. Only a very few of us know of that though. They’re sort of like secret investigations to get information on whether a smaller clan will be wanting to rise against us or not in order to prepare for or avoid any future wars.”

“But as you can see, we’ve managed to avoid war for a long time now.”

“Though it doesn’t guarantee the fact that we won’t be going to war again at all.”

As you stared down at your lap, the distressed look on your face made the mood drop as your two princes shared a look of understanding, knowing exactly what you are worried about.

Namjoon lightly squeezed the hand that he held onto as he began to speak again. “I know I cannot promise you that there will be no wars in the future and that even if there is a war that does not concern our clan, you may be called in to be involved as Keeper, but I can promise you that you will never be alone.”

You looked up at him with sad eyes just thinking about the wars that you all would have to face in order to protect your own people.

But Namjoon did not back away from your fear and held onto a gentle smile. “Perhaps it may not be enough to just tell you that you will not be alone but I speak for all of the dragons in our clan when I say this, Y/N. Whether it is a war fought for our own lands or a war you will be called into as Keeper for the other clans, our dragons will be right behind you guarding you at all sides. As a follower, as a friend, as a lover, and as dragons of the Eastern Clan. We are here for you.”

Upon those words that were given unto you, you knew that you could trust them with your life just as you trusted the two of them. It had been a long journey from the moment you and Jungkook escaped your old village and flew into their clan. Many things happened but as time changed, so did their hearts. You were a trusted keeper now, a human your clan believed in without a doubt so it was your turn to put your faith in them.

The journey beyond was still long but you knew you’d be alright as long as they were by your side.

“I love you,” you confessed and their eyes softened.

You were held in between the two of them, huddled so close, making you feel safe and sound and that alone allowed you to believe that everything would be alright.

.

.

“Greetings to the prince of the Western Clan.”

The air felt thicker, more tense than it was during that moment where you stood tall in front of the Southern Clan. The Western Clan was not as friendly looking as the Southern Clan but you knew that they valued law and order so although a part of you was filled with anxiety standing before the prince, you also understood that prince Seojoon wasn’t going to be someone who would judge someone that easily just because of their descendants.

“Greetings to the princes of the Eastern Clan,” he returned the formal bow, face as expressionless and as stoic as you’d been warned about. When he turned to look your way, you couldn’t tell what was on his mind. All you knew was that what he saw before him was a simple human girl claiming to be the Keeper of the Dragons.

What did he think of you? Perhaps in his eyes you looked like a frail, weak, human girl who should have never associated herself with the dragons.

It was hard being tested back in the Eastern Clan itself when you first arrived. Many of the dragons hated you at the time but you never let it get to you and tried your best to do what your heart had told you to do. Whether the dragons would accept you or not, you just had to continue doing the job you were meant to do with a golden heart.

If you show weakness, if you let their words and judgement hurt you, you would only look like someone who was not worthy of the Keeper title and that was something you knew you absolutely could not do. You couldn’t taint the reputation of the Eastern Clan, you couldn’t let the other clans shame them. If Namjoon gave you that title because he believed in you and the dragon ancestors accepted you then you had to live up to all of their expectations no matter how unclear the journey before you may lie.

When you greeted the eyes of prince Seojoon whose face revealed no sign of anything, a part of you was still afraid. But you kept your head held up high and perhaps because of that strong facade, his expression did not harden when he met your eyes.

“Keeper.” His voice was rather normal. No tone of disgust, no amount of hatred bleeding through the tip of his tongue. He greeted you as if you were an equal with a short bow and a small nod of acknowledgement.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be seen as something special but you knew and many of the dragons knew that that itself meant that prince Seojoon wasn’t going to reject you as the Keeper.

“Seojoon.” At the call of his name falling out of Namjoon’s lips, the Western prince returned his focus back on the leader of the Eastern Clan.

For a moment all was quiet and tense as the two of them stared at one another as if sending telepathic messages to each other with looks alone. You stood there beside Hoseok, waiting for one of them to break the long silence but it seemed as if none of the two were willing to do so.

You didn’t know much about the history between the two princes nor understood much of what their relationship was but what you did know was that between the two leaders of the Eastern and Western Clan, though they may have once fought from time to time long before Jungkook was captured by your former village, the two of them had this silent mutual respect for one another.

And perhaps that was one of the reasons why prince Seojoon was willing to be the one to break first.

“I was surprised when I received your letter, Namjoon,” he began without so much of a blink in his eyes. “Out of all the crown princes who have taken their positions on the thrones, I never thought you out of the four of us would choose to trust a human and grant them the title of a Keeper. In fact, I always believed you to be the last one to ever be willing.”

Standing tall and proud with no sign of remorse, Namjoon spoke with the same resolve. “It is true that my actions were indeed unexpected but my decisions were not made solely on feelings alone.”

“You are not one to easily trust a human,” the Western prince acknowledged, “so I will trust in the decision you have made. The ancestors have, as it seems, deemed her worthy of the position. However, that does not mean I will blindly put my faith in someone I do not know. Until the Keeper can prove her worth, I will be on the neutral side on neither accepting nor refusing the new Eastern Clan member.”

Prove your worth.

He wanted you to prove your worth as a Keeper in order to accept you as someone needed in the dragan clans. You weren’t sure how to do that, you weren’t even sure how you were going to be someone of good help to the four major clans. Namjoon believed in you and so did the other six, but at the moment their support did not mean much until you could find the strength within yourself to accept the role.

Prince Seojoon was right, you had to prove your worth. But not just for the clans but for your own self as well.

The past years have always treated you horribly, a human woman who had no place anywhere with no purpose in life. Now that you were given such a high honor and set at the center of the dragons, the new profound responsibilities could only make you feel as if you were just another outcast again.

No.

Your princes believed in you and they’d go through any lengths to make sure you were safe and protected. They gave you a place in their clan, cared for you, and made sure everything was alright. It was time to stop hiding in their shadows and prove that you were indeed worthy of such an honorable title and be the one to protect instead.

You were a Keeper now. There was no time to dwindle and convince yourself otherwise.

Seeing the resolve in your eyes rather than shrinking in fear and hiding behind the princes of the Eastern Clan, prince Seojoon was a bit taken back by your strong gaze.

But...it wasn’t a look that he did not exactly hate.

Not bad, he thought, and hid the small look of approval behind his cold exterior.

.

.

“Your highness.”

Prince Seojoon stopped walking and turned slowly to find the Keeper who had not spoken even once during his audience with the Eastern Clan’s arrival. You bowed before him in a formal and elegant way, a voice too gentle and soft for a supposed warrior who would eventually have to be used in upcoming battles with the dragons, but he allowed himself not to judge someone based on the exteriors alone.

“What is it, Keeper?”

At least he was calling you by your title, you thought, and let out a hidden sigh before facing the prince with a dignified stance.

“I understand that the relationship between humans and dragons is not a strong one, but I also do not conceive of you as one who would wrongfully judge others based on the fact that I am human alone.”

“You do not, huh?” He replied with the same seriousness as you have written on your face.

“Forgive me if I am overstepping my boundaries but prince Namjoon himself has told me that you are one who sees the person before him as what they are as you see before your eyes. Neither past, race, gender, nor what they were born as will sway your mind into thinking otherwise.”

“And what are you to do with that information?”

You held your head high and met his eyes without falter, keeping in mind the words Namjoon had warned you about with how prince Seojoon did not like it when one spoke about proving oneself while cowering before his eyes. “If me proving my worth to the dragons is all that you want from me, then I will do all that I can to become a warrior that is worthy to everyone. I hope that someday you can faithfully put your trust in me as Keeper of the Dragons.”

Prince Seojoon took a moment to reply, the silence between the two of you lingering while you refused to back down upon his hard gaze otherwise he would never take your words seriously.

After a short while, he finally gave you a firm nod. “I trust that you will keep your words.”

“Yes, your highness.”

With that, the prince watched you walk away while he stood there, beginning to understand just a little bit of why the princes of the East have decided to keep you by their sides.

A brave soul, kind and gentle, but unaware of the power you held as a Keeper. One day you’d find your strength and courage walking into future wars that would call for you.

Like a rose who had yet to make use of her thorns.

.

.

“What are you worried about, hm? I’m pretty sure you just passed his test.”

“Test?” Your head was quick to perk up upon Namjoon’s words though those eyes of yours were still filled with an unspoken anxiety that kept weighing down your shoulders. “What are you talking about, Namjoon?”

“Seojoon isn’t as cruel as he portrays, he’s just a bit strict and serious when it comes to the future of the dragons.”

“You would know, you’re just like him,” Hoseok commented as a side remark, causing the leader to roll his eyes while you let out a small chuckle.

Hearing that, Namjoon’s brows furrowed as he sent you a pout. “You agree?”

There he was, a prince who was always seen as a strict leader to all, showing you a cute pout. “Well you were quite hard on me when I first walked into the clan,” you reminded the prince, causing him to let out a dry laugh.

“Right,” he cringed, not entirely liking the images of those memories walking into his head. Those days weren’t the greatest and they regretted it more than you could ever imagine but telling you those thoughts would only bring more weight on your shoulders and that was something they absolutely couldn’t do. So rather than dwelling on the negative thoughts, he approached the subject with a light tone. “If someone like me can be swayed into trusting a human once again, then Seojoon would have no problem following my footsteps.”

“Mhm,” agreed Hoseok, “Prince Seojoon is rational when it comes to judging people.”

“All you have to do is be yourself. He likes authenticity more than anything so you have no problem there.”

“I’m just,” you let out a soft sigh as you went on to hug yourself, head falling to the floor, eyes dropping with worry, “how do I prove my worth when I can’t even master my abilities as a Keeper yet?”

You felt arms wrapping themselves around you in a gentle manner, holding you close to his chest, and a soft kiss pressed to the crown of your head. “Wielding ones’ power takes time and patience but I know this, and Hoseok and the other five back at home know this.” He looked down into your eyes with a strong gaze of confidence and encouragement, meeting those anxious ones headstrong. “You can do it, Y/N. If you can turn your back on the village that was supposed to be your past, present, and future but failed you, if you can turn a blind eye on myths and legends about hideous monsters like us, if you can lend your strength towards the one that was meant to be your prisoner, rescue him, and still stay in a clan full of dragons that openly showed their distaste in you. If you can be framed for someone else’s wrongdoing, get locked up in the dungeons for months, then survive a fall off a high cliff with someone who didn’t even appreciate you and injuries all over your body...My love, you can do absolutely anything.”

“I mean look at yourself, pretty girl.” Taking your hand to pull you away from Namjoon, Hoseok held your hand in the air to twirl you around right there in the middle of the guest room. “Beautiful hands,” he pressed a kiss to back of your hand, “beautiful hair,” taking a few strands of your hair, he pressed a kiss to them, “beautiful forehead,” kisses to your forehead, “beautiful brows,” to your brows, “beautiful eyes,” two upon each eye, “beautiful nose,” to the tip of your nose, “beautiful lips,” he grinned at the sight of your cheeks blushing red and delivered a chaste kiss to them. “And a beautiful heart.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in close and pressed a kiss to the right of your chest before simply resting his chin atop your shoulder.

“On top of that you’re so strong,” Namjoon stated and held you from behind, his chin resting on your opposite shoulder with you wrapped in between their arms. “If there is anyone I can trust with the title of a Keeper, it’s you. Because that is your worth. You’re beautiful and kind and so, so strong.”

“We believe in you more than anything, little one. If you can do all those things and still keep your head up and face everything with a strong mind, you are worth more than anyone as the Keeper of the Dragons.”

“You’re going to be alright. You’re going to fail from time to time but you’ll keep at it without giving up hope because that’s what you’re best at doing. When everyone else has given up hope, you’re right there to smile through the rocky road and continue on without complaint.”

“And through it all, you won’t be alone.” With a kiss on your right cheek and a kiss to your left cheek, they whispered a promise that they’d never break. “We’ll be right here next to you.”

“So rely on us too, okay?” Namjoon said as he pressed another kiss to your temple. “We’re right here for you.”

.

.

“Welcome, princes of the Eastern Clan, and,” you could feel the Northern Prince’s eyes on you though you didn’t dare to look up unless he had given you permission to do so. With a light tone that hid a certain secret you couldn’t quite put a finger on, the prince greeted you. “Keeper of the Dragons, it is an honor to finally meet you.”

“The honor is mine, your highness,” you returned the formal words with a head still lowered before him.

“Now, now, we don’t have to act too formal with one another,” prince Hyungwoo spoke in an easygoing tone as he gave a small clap. “We are comrades who are inevitably meant to fight alongside each other, aren’t we?” He held a hand before you and when you looked up to meet the gaze of the Northern Prince, you could see the lopsided grin he had greeted you with, a feeling not going too well with you but how could you show rudeness to a prince of the four?

From your peripheral vision, you could see Namjoon and Hoseok who watched with the same caution and wariness but even they couldn’t do much being as you were in the territory of the Northern Clan. A cold, hard place in the snowy mountains.

Possessive or not, it was common courtesy.

So you let your hand fall into the prince’s palm. “Yes, your highness,” you said and with a satisfied twinkle in his eyes, he gave you a kiss atop the back of your hand.

“Your beauty is one that can defeat the enemies itself, Keeper. Tell me, what is your name?”

“My name is Y/N, your highness.”

“Y/N,” he repeated the name slowly along his tongue, waiting for a moment before letting your hand go and looking up to you with a small smirk curled along the corner of his lips, “can you wield a blade?”

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

“The dragons of the Eastern Clan are one of the best warriors who control both the skies and the land, notorious for being an undefeated clan who refuses to lose to even the smallest wars. Now that they’ve gained a Keeper in their possession, they only grow stronger.” The prince gave one small look towards Namjoon and Hoseok before resting his gaze on you again. “But the Keeper does not only belong to the Eastern Clan, now does she? So tell me, dear Y/N, in a world where dragons are fighting for power just as any human kingdom would, what skills do you have to offer us protection and victory in a battlefield that may cost the lives of many?”

You knew what he was trying to say, that the position you were given and the wars that were to come was not a child’s play. It was all serious business where each one of you would walk into the battlegrounds not knowing who would live and who would survive. Being a Keeper did not guarantee safety nor victory of the wars. It meant protecting the dragons and bringing them back home alive.

“Prince Hyungwoo, the Keeper was only made recently,” Hoseok tried to save you but the Northern prince wasn’t having it.

“All the more reasons to get her ready for such dangerous events. You can’t tell me you aren’t worried just because you have a Keeper by your side now, can you?” He asked, raising a brow at the two Eastern princes. “No. It is because she is the Keeper that makes you worried more than anything. Am I wrong?” Upon the silent response that he received, the prince went on. “I won’t go against the words of our ancestors, they have accepted our dear Y/N after all, but she wouldn’t be useful if we don’t put her to good use.”

A tool.

You could tell that was all the prince of the Northern Clan thought of you as. And not just him but many other dragons who did not know of you as Y/N but as the Keeper of the dragons. You were going to be made a pawn in their wars.

“Since it seems as if the Keeper does not have any particular skills just yet, why don’t we test a theory out?” He snapped his finger, looking right back at you and bringing shivers down your spine as you knew something good wasn’t going to come out of his mouth. “They say the Keeper is at their strongest when placed in a very emotional state of mind.”

“What are you trying to say?” The anger rising in Namjoon flashed in his eyes as he watched prince Hyungwoo but the prince chose to simply ignore his concerns, eyes holding yours with a sly grin.

“What causes your ire, dear Y/N?” He asked you so casually as if speaking about the weather. “What makes you so livid and upset that you can’t seem to control your own emotions? Think of something very unpleasant.” He inched forward your way, dangerous eyes staring straight into your soul. “Is it when a man you barely know of touches you and makes you uncomfortable?” He grabbed ahold of your wrist, a touch different from when he held your hand for a greeting.

You winced slightly, biting back your tongue in order to hide how uncomfortable you were as the images of Jinyoung flashed before you.

“Prince Hyungwoo,” Hoseok growled a low warning as both of your princes stepped up behind you.

But he didn’t let go. “Hmm, you don’t look like someone who would get angry for the sake of yourself. You look like you would explode if something were to happen to the ones you cared most about.”

You couldn’t hear a single thing he was saying with the tight grip on your wrist. The only thing you could see was Jinyoung, the man who only looked at you when you were finally made useful because you managed to tame a dragon. The love he claimed he had for you wasn’t love. He just wanted to use you, having no other reason behind his infatuation for you.

Just like your former village.

You were just a tool for them as you would become one for the dragons.

“Let her go,” Namjoon demanded in a low snarl as he placed a tight grip on Prince Hyunwoo’s shoulder. Only then did the prince realize the state you were in and released his hold on you.

You couldn’t meet his gaze any longer but you held your head up, lips pressed into a thin line as the expression on your face refused to give into the fear your mind wanted you to walk into.

Hoseok wrapped a hand around your shoulder and took a step back so that he could create more distance between you and the prince.

Even then you didn’t feel good.

In a Clan where strangers stared at you as if you didn’t belong, in a Clan that only hoped to use you as a tool, you were reminded once again of your place in the world.

Jinyoung, your former village, and the dragons.

The whole world was really against you, weren’t they? Because when you think you’ve finally found happiness, it tries to take that away from you.

.

.

Hoseok stood there beside the open door that led into the guest room where the three of you would reside while Namjoon held a meeting with prince Hyungwoo, and watched with a silent gaze as you sat on a chair, eyes staring at your hands with thoughts running all over your mind.

Despite how brave you were in front of prince Hyungwoo, behind that font he knew how anxious and afraid you were. He could see it from where he stood now, watching you sit there all alone, finally letting your guard down but with a mind filled with anxious thoughts.

You were a brave soul, the sweetest kind he had ever met, and seeing such an expression on your face made him want to make it all alright again.

So he stepped into the room, closing the door slowly behind him to not make any abrupt noises which would startle you and walked towards your way.

Sliding a hand upon your shoulder, he felt you jumping slightly at the sudden touch.

“Sorry, I scared you, didn’t I?” Hoseok first apologized with a rueful smile. The last thing he wanted was to make you even more anxious.

But the way your expression softened at just the sight of him and how you breathed out the slightest relief of “Hoseok” made him at ease again. He made his way around to kneel before you and took your hands to caress them both with a gentle smile to help ease your own worries that kept circling your thoughts. Your eyes followed him silently, comforted at just his presence alone.

“Roses are really beautiful, you know that?”

The hairs of your brows creased in between as you met his gaze. “Hoseok?”

Yet he continued. “They bloom in the most magnificent ways, fluttering their petals open, blushing in the most prettiest shades of red. However, although they are known to be one of the most beautiful flowers, a rose doesn’t just offer itself as a pretty flower. It has its thorns to protect it from harm. Some thorns may be harmless, while some are really sharp and more dangerous than others. It’s like a pretty little thing such as yourself building bushes out of bushes made of thorns to keep yourself from harming others and others harming you. The rose likes to stand there, far from others, and smiling prettily as if everything is alright, while inside it’s slowly wilting away and just wants a hand that would willingly give it sunlight and water without fearing her thorns.”

Now I’m not saying that the thorns are always a bad thing. They can be good when facing harmful creatures that wish to simply pluck it and steal it for themselves, eventually hurting the little rose because they wouldn’t know how to care for it. But there are times when the wall of thorns can fall out of control. There are times when those thorns can harm the little rose. But do you know what’s so fascinating about these thorns? They only exist because the rose allows them to. Some thorns can get out of control, but once it’s tamed and nurtured and the rose can face it each day until it no longer fears those thorns, they can become one of the most powerful allies the rose can use.”

What I’m saying is,” Hoseok held your hands tighter against his own, giving it a gentle squeeze while never taking his eyes off you, “these little thoughts of yours can become your greatest ally or your worst enemy. It is all up to how you wish to face them. The world can be really scary, and I know that because I was one of those scary things that you had to face to get to where you are now. But just as your world can shift with just one sincere heart, you can do that all over again. Sincerity was what got us to see your blooming petals and soon all dragons that exist will see that too. Though,” he narrowed his eyes, “you have to be careful otherwise they’ll try to steal you away.”

“As if that would ever happen,” you told him with a shake of your head and a bitter smile.

“What do you mean?” He asked as he gave you a light squeeze. “You’re beautiful, Y/N, anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“I know what you mean, Hoseok, but I…” You looked away, eyes shaking as you could feel the tears coming. “I don’t want to be seen as just...that. I don’t want to be seen as just Y/N, Keeper of the Dragons, as a human, as a human girl who managed to become an important figure to the dragons and is now...and is now someone who can be used to win battles.” You took your hand from Hoseok to hold your face, hiding the tears that fell from your eyes the more your voice shook. “I know it’s selfish of me but I don’t want to be used as a tool. I don’t want to be seen as someone who’s far greater or far lesser than everyone else. I want to be seen as an equal, as an ally. I don’t want to be a weapon. I’m so scared, Hoseok.”

The sight of your tears, the soft cries and soft whimpers that left your lips made Hoseok’s heart ache when you finally decided to break down and tell him the things that had been going on inside your head.

Back then when you were in front of prince Hyungwoo, the way he held your wrist probably reminded you of how cruel and forceful Jinyoung had been towards you. Though he himself hadn’t ever witnessed the cruelty from both Jinyoung and the village you grew up in, he was sure the memories only served you as a horrible reminder of what you were to those people.

Hoseok wrapped his arms around you and in just a split second, your cries grew louder as you leaned against him, eventually getting too weak to hold yourself up on your own so you fell into his arms and the two of you sat there on the carpet floor.

“It isn’t selfish to want something for yourself, Y/N,” he said in such a soft tone as he held you close and tight. “Just because you are the Keeper does not mean you have to belong to everyone. You belong to your own self. Not me, not the Eastern Clan, not the dragons. You belong to you and no one should feel as if they can use you for their own benefits.”

“But…”

“You have a duty to hold as a Keeper, yes,” Hoseok nods, cutting you off gently, “but just because the Keeper’s job is to protect everyone, it does not mean that you are to be used as a tool. My love, I know the world hasn’t been fair to you but you have us now. You're not alone. Whatever you wish to do, we’re with you. Me, Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook. If it seems as if the world is not on your side, know that we are. I believe in you, Y/N. It’s okay to be afraid and it’s okay to lean on others when things aren’t going the way you hope for it to go. No matter what, you are you, and no one can take that away from you.”

“Hoseok..” You called his name.

“What is it?” Hoseok gently asked.

“I want to go home.”

The raw broken tone in your voice made his heart ache and although there were still a few days to go and the sun had yet to set, how could Hoseok ever say no when you’ve finally voiced out a selfish wish for the first time?

“Okay.” So he said, giving you a nod and a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “We’ll go home.”

[god-sent-gender-bent]

I feel this exact way. I'm a few years younger than you, but I started out on Tumblr in 2007 in jr. High when it was made. I'm still here. And the amount of young queers I've seen blatantly ignore history is sad.

While I'm SO glad they have that privilege, it's exhausting to have to teach it constantly. I will, because I had to learn everything about being queer by myself (thanks AIDS and Midwestern homophobia running everyone out of my small town) and these kids deserve queer elders... But like... Because they DON'T know the history, they don't have the respect for how much our generation fought to reclaim everything that was almost wiped out.

To baby queers: I love you. Your life has value. Please, PLEASE listen to the queer adults in your life. We went through shit so you don't have to, but don't disrespect our sacrifices and fights to keep you safer. And go meet your community off the Internet the second you have a chance. The real world has nuance and fat rolls and wrinkles and all kinds of wonderful humans to know and love. It's not twitter discourse over the etymology of a single word or whether XYZ is homophobic. Be safe, be fun, be weird, and love each other.

I was just sitting here like damn I write “I’m old enough to remember” in a LOT of my posts. But then I recalled that very popular poll which revealed to me I am in fact older than somewhere around 92% of y’all, assuming it was at least somewhat reflective of the “aging userbase” aka a userbase that aged from 15 to 25 aka the lightest use of the term “aging” ever 😂

But much more importantly, it’s also reflective of how far acceptance of queer people has come in my 40 years bc when I use the term “I’m old enough to remember” I am almost always speaking to some terrible anti LGBTQAI thing of the past that many a 25 year old is probably fairly unaware of today.

and THAT part of it all is really beautiful.

I hope I get a lot more than 40 years to live but if it’s all I got, at least I can say I really did see some things come a long way. As one of my boomer mentors once said “I thought as a gay kid in Texas in the 60s I’d sooner be dead than out” and by the time I met him in 2012, he’d long been one of Texas’s first out leaders of a major nonprofit, celebrated as such.

Some things do get better.

[wordsmithic]

Can't wait for the new version of the Goddess Persephone in the western pop culture to now be whatever Madeline Miller writes next 🤢 (And Demeter will probably be villainized again, as the user in the next screenshot says)

After the "Persephone went down on her own" and "Persephone is, in fact, Inanna" ignorant takes, we will now have - most likely - another version of "Persephone was actually a victim of Demeter and/or Patriarchy and is a symbol of victimhood".

Guys!!! This Is Not How Myths Work or Meant To Be Interpreted. The genre in which she writes, "Mythological realism", is stupid and the media on such stories rarely remains respectful. Most people not from the US or Australia will tell you that when it comes to our ancient myths! So many things can go wrong when writing things like that if you are not aware of the thin line between respect and disrespect in the culture you are writing about.

Plus, it's not even needed, because the ancient texts already cover Persephone's feelings on the matter. How afraid she was, how stressful this was for her, and later how she is depicted as a ferocious queen, having adjusted to her new role. The material is there!!! In fact, we have more insight into Persephone's psyche about the abduction than we have for Hades.

Madeline is well-read on historical details but she can't seem to grasp the social aspect of the myths, the context in which they were created, and how people of the Hellenic/Greek culture have viewed them for our whole history. She only cares about catering to her primarily modern American audience (although the books are distributed elsewhere, too) and their sensitivities.

She wrote important characters from our myths as rapists and/or rape victims as literary devices while something like that was not mentioned in our ancient texts. And that is only one of the outrageous things in her works. For her Persephone book, she will insert unnecessary drama like the rest of her stories and at the end, we will read a Big Moral Message unrelated to what the myth represents.

Yeeey Miller, teach us how to interpret our myths, we must have been doing it wrong for centuries........ "But it's my interpretation", she will say after villainizing and victimizing characters who didn't have these experiences in mythology. Yes, that's what people who don't know how to Study Myths say.

First of all, who the heck asked you. Imagine her taking a Chinese ancient folk story and being like "yeah, I made this character a serial rapist but it's my interpretation of the myth!" 🤢

We don't need anyone to "interpret" the myths when they already mean something and have been interpreted a thousand times according to ancient context. You are not adding anything to the discussion that Greeks or others have missed! (I am saying this because she and the US American media act like she is revolutionary for how people see Greek mythology or something.)

Secondly, you are extremely famous so it's not just you writing a fic that a thousand people will read. Your book is distributed almost globally (in Greece, too, translated), so your "interpretation" will soon be commented on in famous articles and interviews as groundbreaking and soon become the new western pop culture reference for this Goddess. (Tumblr posts and Lore Olympus were also the root of this. Now imagine the effect of a globally best seller book)

You will laugh your way to the bank and we Greeks we'll have to deal with the consequences of yet another inaccurate portrayal of Persephone that people on the internet can parrot until the sun swallows us all. We must repeat the same things about our heritage again and again, and people still don't understand and insist they know better. People who won't research further will now have another pass to shit on Zeus, Demeter, and goodness knows who else. People get heated about loathing literal gods/mythological figures and send threats to anyone who disagrees with them!

Judging from her previous works, this one will follow the same trends. I mean, that's why her people buy Miller's books and her brand is built on that. She is not going to change things now. And I am just so sad and tired! The way famous writers from the US and Australia misappropriate our myths makes me wish we'd never passed them on 😢

- p.s. don't touch this post if you're are going to comment "who cares", "the gods are fake", "let people have fun" etc.

1) I care and it's a heritage my ancestors kept as best as they could, mythology is important to me and I don't need your permission to get passionate about it, I just had enough entitlement from people who have PJO level of knowledge and superficial respect. If this post is not your cup of tea just skip it. I am not here to debate the importance of myths

2) even if you don't believe in the gods, this doesn't make them any less worthy of respect as important heritage figures

3) people can have creative fun but writers with great influence should be careful, especially if they have degrees on the matter and should know better!