#its s metaphor. but . is that how plants work.

[1tsjusty0u]

could silent princesses go naturally extinct? or do plants only go extinct by human or animal interference? do they just need really specific growing conditions and thats why silent princesses are so rare? would they be common in a country outside of hyrule due to the geography of the theoretical country? i refuse to believe cultivating silent princesses is impossible

[fallenangelics]

Rough And Fluff

PAIRING | Angel Dust/Husk

WORD COUNT | 938

SUMMARY | After the best orgasm Angel has had all week, he is ready to relax for the night when something rough but pleasant starts brushing against his chest.

RATING | Mature

WARNING/TAG(S) | No Archive Warnings Apply

A/N | @rubra-wav created the beautiful banner below so go check out their content since they have some amazing stuff.

EVENTS | @character-a-character-b | Beastial Desires

AO3 LINK | Read Here

Angel lay on his back, chest heaving as Husk pulled himself up from where he had previously been buried between Angel’s legs and instead flopped himself onto Angel’s chest, head burying in the fluff that resigned there. Once again, the two of them have had sex. Not just any sex though, sex that pleased Angel more than it did Husk with no want for him to return the favour, Husk was seemingly happy enough just to make Angel cum.

Although his mind was still in a haze, Angel’s top set of arms reached up to curl into the fur on the back of Husk’s head, his fingers pivoting in small circles. A sigh slowly parted its way from Angel’s lips once it seemed like his mind was starting to make sense of his surroundings.

Prepared to lay there in what felt like eternal bliss for hours, Angel couldn’t be happier with how his life had taken a serious turn since the latest Extermination and the Hotel being rebuilt. Sure, he still had to lug it over to the Studio every once in a while but it hadn’t been as frequent or for as long as before. Either Val finally realised after watching the videos from the Extermination that Angel could actually hold his own or his close relations with the King of Hell has scared him off for a short while. 

Other than that everything was almost perfect.

He got to spend more time at the Hotel with his friends while working on redemption or he could crash a few nights over at Cherri’s just like before he was roped into Charlie’s ridiculous plan. And, to top everything off, he had finally gotten together with Husk after the cat-owl hybrid got drunk enough to spill his guts to Angel; both metaphorically and literally. 

So Angel could easily agree that everything had taken a dramatic turn for the best as he laid with Husk on top of him, a soft smile on his face and a glow radiating around him.

Beginning to feel himself slip into a soft slumber, Angel is startled awake when he feels something rough drag along the fluff on his chest. Eyes jumping wide open, Angel stares down at Husk as he runs his tongue along the mound of fluff on his chest with his eyes narrowed in concentration as he spared no glance at Angel. 

With his own brows pinching in confusion, Angel watched in silence as Husk got to work on the fluff Angel housed, not saying a word as Husk parted and smoothed out the white fur, messing it up before making it neat once more. It was rather enduring, watching it all play out. That didn’t take away the rough strokes that danced across Angel’s chest, reminding him of the appendage that was essentially grooming him.

“What are you doin’?” Angel asked, his voice hushed in the quiet room. That didn’t seem to matter as Husk jumped the moment Angel’s mouth opened, not expecting a word to come from what he had thought had been the sleeping Sinner. It wasn’t that he minded the extra care, his eyes swallowing every action with glee as it played out. He was just confused as to why it was happening. 

“Jesus,” Husk hissed, sitting up and resting over Angel with a hand planted on his chest. Angel couldn’t help but smile up at Husk, earning a huff in return as he settled back down, this time laying next to Angel and allowing him to curl into his smaller body. One of Husk’s wings immediately laid itself over Angel’s side. “Give a guy some warning next time.”

“Sorry,” Angel found himself whispering, still in a hushed tone. “That doesn’t answer my question though.”

“I was grooming you,” Husk said in a mumbled voice begrudgingly, making it hard for Angel to make out his words. Pondering whether or not to ask Husk to repeat himself so Angel could clearly hear what the Sinner had said, Angel allowed Husk to hold onto his small shred of dignity lest he’d want a grouchy cat on his hand.

“Why?” He asked, keeping his top set of hands curled into the fur on the back of Husk’s head while his lower set reached for Husk’s hands, lacing their fingers together when Husk clasped his own around Angel’s.

“Because you’re filthy,” Husk’s nose scrunched as the words left his mouth, eyes locking on Angel’s fluffy chest as if he wanted to reach back in. Angel just wasn’t sure if he wanted to bury his head in there again or start grooming him. “And sweaty. I’m just listening to my stupid instincts.”

“You’re cat ones?” Angel asked, getting a small nod in return as if Husk was embarrassed to admit it. Pondering on that thought for a few seconds, Angel’s hands came to a slow stop on the back of Husk’s head, making him look up with bright golden eyes. “If you want to continue, you can. I ain’t goin’ to stop you. Besides, I kinda like it.”

Husk’s brows slowly pinched together as he studied Angel, taking him all in, “Really?”

Only answering with a nod, Angel shifts back onto his back, giving Husk all the space he needs to get back up and lay himself across Angel so he can once again get back to work and listen to the new instincts he had earned after arriving in Hell. Once again Angel wrapped his arms around Husk as he did so, letting his eyes slip shut as he enjoyed the rough tongue that pulled and prodded at his fluffy chest.

[xviruserrorx]

Title: "An Undesirable Hunger"

I really really really enjoyed writing this one. I changed tenses than from what I normally use and kinda matched the style to how I'm writing for my main fic (which why haven't I've done this before?) And Its good, I think it's good. Anyways... For @merlinmicrofic and the prompt "Hunger/Hungry" and I'm trying to do a fic everyday for Aromantic-Spec Awareness Week so I wrote for the prompt "Oriented AroAceApl"

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Aromantic Awareness Week 2024 - Tumblr | Ao3 - [-> Next]

Fandom: BBC Merlin

Prompt(s): Hunger/Hungry, Oriented AroAceApl

Relationship(s): Morgana-Centric, minor relationships - Morgana & Gwen, Morgana & Arthur Pendragon & Uther Pendragon

Character(s): Morgana Pendragon, Uther Pendragon, Arthur Pendragon, Gwen

Important Tag(s): Pre-Season/Series 01, Big Sister Morgana, Siblings Morgana & Arthur Pendragon, barely mentioned but it's there, Background Morgana & Gwen, Background Morgana & Uther Pendragon, Food as a metaphor, Oriented AroAceApl Morgana

Rating: Gen

Warning(s): None

Word Count: 500

“Surely one of Camelot's fine young men has caught your eye.” She bites her smile but it fades for her soon. “Perhaps you'll even marry,” Uther continues.

Or

Over the years Morgana can't find herself to care for trivial things which she finds soon rears it's head on her twenty-first birthday.

Continue reading below or over on Ao3

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It was always there, the part of the garden reserved when Morgana came to Camelot. For a tree, Uther said. Wasn't till three summers into her stay when the gardener showed her the seed and planted it.

Though it wouldn't bear fruit; not for years. The garden was new, and she was impatient.

She's a woman, as all the castle whispered. It's at the feast celebrating those twenty-one summer's that Uther rambles on, consumed by wine.

“Surely one of Camelot's fine young men has caught your eye.”

Arthur makes a face, sticks his tongue out and lifts his fork to continue his meal. She hasn't even begun to eat.

She bites her smile but it fades for her soon.

“Perhaps you'll even marry,” Uther continues.

She places her fork back and brings her hands to her lap. She listens and doesn't speak as he drones on about the different Lord's son's and newly knighted men.

The feast can't end quick enough before she's back in her chambers.

“Here, my lady.” Gwen hands over an orange. It's peeled and she can see the white pith from the peel is stuck under her nails. “I know you didn't eat.”

She takes it. It's not sweet, not savory, not anything perhaps. She smiles as she feels the skin break and the pulp burst between her teeth. It's bitter. She eats the whole thing. Her fingers are sticky and she feels full despite it all.

She still smells the fruit on her hands as she sits, embroidering the next morning.

Gwen runs her hand over wrinkled sheets. “Attending the tournament?”

“I have to. Uther's holding it for me.” She pulls the needle up and through and feels for the underside. “I can't see why.”

“For potential suitors,” Gwen replies matter-of-factly.

The cloth leaves her blind as the needle pokes through and breaks her skin. It's coated red and blood pools on the surface of her finger as she gasps from the sudden pain.

“Are you alright, my lady?”

“Yes. Silly me.” She licks the blood from her wound. It's rotted, it's been for years.

It doesn't leave her mouth. The same as Gwen stays in her eyesight as she sits for dinner that night.

“You've caught the eye of Sir Bertram,” Uther remarks as the plates are laid before them.

“Have I?” She isn't hungry. Why isn't she hungry?

Uther smiles, nods, favoring the honied fruits.

Grimacing, she pushes her plate away from her.

“Aren't you going to eat?” Arthur talks; mouth full and crumbs all around it.

She shakes her head. “Not hungry.”

She's made up her mind as a servant takes her plate away. Not more or less. Just something different.

So she walks where the seed was planted. Red cherries hang on the branches that have taken years to grow. 

She rips them from their stems. They stain her fingers and stain her lips as she bites into them. 

She smiles; their bittersweet. 

So she cradles her hunger and indulges it.

[gettinshiggywithit]

!Fantasy AU Bakugou x fem!reader??!(Drabble or is this an imagine??)

Reader is from our world! also this is a wayyy older piece soo i hope it isnt too bad or cheesy :')

Tw:- mild cussing and kissing?

Pairing: bakugou x reader

Inspired by this post! By @tanimil

Tanimil

You wake up in new world and the first thing you see is... Bakugou katsuki?

TANIMIL

Okay so imagine y/n wakes up in a field, tthe plants are wild and the smell is oddly fresh she hears a sound and focuses on it while her eyes are still closed

She notices it sounds familiar and immediately bolts upright

Which makes her dizzy and she then winces and holds her head in her hand

The voice stops and she opens her eyes to see shes in someone’s s shadow

It’s bakugou and he’s looking down at her

Her heart rate quickens and before she can say anything hes like “huh ur finally awake. About dam time”

She’s confused because like wtf is happeningggg??and then she feels a little heat in her palm

She looks down to see little flames dancing across her fingertips,and they’re purple not blue or red or orange

Bakugou looks up after hearing her gasp and then even hes taken aback

She asks him how this could happen and he says its the fabled “wayfinder flame” a power that has only been granted to those who were truly lost

He explains that she really must be “really fuckin lost” if this flame has found her

And she explains how she’s not from that world and isnt even sure how she got there

He listens

And then finally agrees to help her find her way

Shes taken aback because “omg bakugou katsuki wants to help me???” But he just wants to know more about the flame and when she asks how hes gonna help her he rolls his eyes and explains how the flame actually works

It burns brighter and hotter and grows more powerful as its wielder finds their way home

Wherever that may be.

He also says that this power is rarer than “a fucking full moon” because according to the lore the only thing stopping everyone from getting this is they must first be “completely utterly and hopelessly lost for it find them” not just a certain feeling of being lost that fades away after time

And as they go on

They fight monsters meet people and grow closer

All the while the flame is growing stronger (i mean that literally AND as a metaphor for their feelings for eachother!)

The finale

They reach a lake

The water is black,a stark contrast to its beautiful surroundings but the reader feels a pull to it and katsuki has a bad feeling

She feels it call to her

And just as he remembers why its dangerous , she’s already jumped in

Its the pool of the damned

No one who goes in ever comes out

Katsuki jumps in to save her and he sees everything

Her life that lead up to this moment

Why she was feeling lost, all her moments of pain ,all her lows

He sees it in the water and in the distance he can see it all drowning her

He pushes through and swims through the abyss and saves her

But when he brings her out she’s not breathing

So he does uk

Cpr mouth to mouth

And his wakes her up

And as they deepen the kiss the lake clears and a figure emmerges

It looks like a fairy but katsuki just sees a ball of light

It tells her that she is truly found,now and asks if she wishes to return home

The being even opens up a portal to show how they’re the real deal

And y/n looks at it.. she contemplates going back but she chooses not to

She’s found her home

Yes

But it isnt back in her world

Its katsuki

Shes found her home in him

After letting the being know of her decision,the being seems to smile.it doesnt have a face but they both know its smiling

And then is disappears

Katsuki asks if shes sure about this

And she says she’s never been sure about anything more

And they kiss one last time

From there on out they were together

And they became the fiercest warriors that land had ever known

Him,well being him, and her with her now infinitely powerful flame!

please dont repost my work here as your own on any platform all rights belong to me except that of the mha characters used,their right belong to their respective owners.but these stories? mine.

feedback,likes,reblogs and comments are so very appreciated tbh :’)i hope you enjoyed and ill catch ya next time!

Comments & Reblogs w/ tags >>>>>>>>>>>likes please

[solasan]

HI HI HI HIH I HI :) for the infamous mc asks can i get uhhhhh full circle, beginnings, fans, voice, storybeats, and seven. i will stop now. <3 <3

infamous MC questions

TYSM CARLY ILY <3333

Full circle: What is the first song they ever wrote? Played? What’s the most recent? 

i think the first song she wrote is probably a song that eventually became eggshells, which is a rly angry/kinda devastating song on their most recent EP (glass houses). mommy issues core. it went through a lot of transformation over the years — from angsty teenage metaphors to kinda blisteringly painful adult ones — and the first time she ever sang it for the band, her hands shook the whole fuckin time. (seven was the only person to hear it before that). it’s pretty well-loved bc it’s got a lot of raw, emotional vocals, backed up by a pretty sick beat and some of rowan’s best work.

the most recent song would probs be forecast fires, which is actually hornet’s nest’s audition song for botb!! it’s about seven LOL. very angry and kind of tragic/ever-so-slightly wistful if u actually listen to the lyrics, but it’s upbeat and the kind of song u can’t help dancing to.

Beginnings: When and how did they know they wanted to be a professional musician? Was there a deciding factor?  

marnie’s always been into music; she grew up singing along to her dad’s old fleetwood mac & joan jett records and started taking guitar lessons young (mostly as an excuse for her parents to get her out of the house lol). she started writing when she was about 11 (not long before she met seven) and used to mess around with putting some of her songs to music, but she wasn’t super serious about a career in music for a while.

it was seven that first planted the idea in her head, but once planted, it rly took root. he was always the one pushing her, telling her that her music was good, that they could do this, and she only half-believed him until the very first time that their fans sang along to their music at a gig. then she was kind of like this is what i’m made for; giving people something to dance and sing to.

when seven left, though, she got a lot more serious about it. it kind of became a thing of i don’t need you, we don’t need you, we’re gonna make it after that, mostly out of spite and hurt but also because the fans loving her voice on its own was kind of a novelty for her. now she knows she wants to be singing to people until the day she drops dead LOL.

Fans: How is their relationship with their fans? Do they go out of their way to interact? 

oh marnie looooves her fans lol. she especially loves the kinds of fans that everyone else gets embarrassed over; the gushy ones, like maya. they make her feel loved, bro, and as someone with huuuuge abandonment issues, that’s better than crack. but even if ur not gushing over her, she’s probably rly excited to be seeing u, bc she just loves that people listen to her.

she’s a very sociable rockstar lol. she’ll hug fans, she’ll make a real effort to get them involved at their gigs — getting them to sing, talking to them, generally being a great stage presence — and she’s always happy to stop for a picture or autograph at the grocery store. it just thrills her bro!! she’s probably so pro-vespids (👉👈 maya came up with that n marnie ADORES it) that orion’s had to take her socials away from her sometimes bc she can’t stop tweeting back to people n they do not have the time, ross, you were supposed to be at rehearsals a half hour ago!

Voice: What does their singing voice sound like? Do you have voiceclaims(s) for them? 

throaty & husky; pretty sensual. she sounds a lot like grace vanderwaal i think (this is a good example) so her voice is very raspy and distinctive. pretty recognisable. i know, like, literally fuck all about singing, but after a lil googling i’d say her voice type is contralto, so she’s on the lower end of the vocal range.

Storybeats: If you could design one scene to happen in the story, what would it be? How would it change your character? What would make it so satisfying for the character arc? 

oof. probably some kind of confrontation with her parents? a lot of marnie’s motivations can be boiled down to “i can make it on my own, i can prove it” and essentially trying to show how capable/independent/good she is, so getting some kind of closure with her Very First Abandonment would probably be huge. i don’t picture them making up, really; more just some kind of moment that makes marnie realise oh, i don’t have to prove shit to these bastards. i think the closure would at first be pretty painful for her and she’d fuck off to go get high and block out the world, but if she could get over that, i think she’d come out the other side feeling a lot more secure in herself and who she is. probably a lot less desperate for acceptance & love, too.

im gonna try to keep this a bit briefer but i also think some kind of acknowledgement about her unhealthy relationship with party drugs would b very helpful to her. she’s not high all the time by any means, because she actually takes her career pretty seriously, but she definitely uses parties & coke to get out of her head when she doesn’t want to be there and it’s caused some problems that have made orion rip his hair out.

Seven: Do you have headcanons about their friendship and/or romantic relationship (past or future)? What do you imagine some of their best memories are? What do you think some of Seven’s favourite things about your MC were/are?

oof seven meant everything to marnie lol :) for a very long time, he was her first constant, her greatest constant, because her parents wanted nothing to do with her and she was just… so lonely. and then he was there, warm and funny and a little dry, and he was taking her to his mom’s place and understanding her music and commiserating with her over the yawning black emptiness both of them felt at times. how could she not fall in love, u know?

they pined for each other for most of their teens before finally getting together when they were abt 20. probably the first time they wrote a song together was marnie’s first Oh I’m In Love moment lol, but her fav memories are all the times they hung out drunk as shit on the roof of her parents’ place as teens, sharing a blanket and pointing at the stars n making each other laugh.

another good memory: marnie dumped her crappy boyfriend just before prom when they were seniors, so her and seven skipped prom night and drove to vero beach to drink beer and have an impromptu bonfire, and marnie ended up out in the water in her fucking dress jumping waves with him, and it was just… very soft n sweet. she misses those days.

i think seven always liked marnie’s sense of humour (she’s very sarcastic but in a warm kind of way?) and how blunt she was; there’s not a conniving bone in her body (which is what made The Vote so painful for him, among other things) and he always appreciated that. her loyalty, too. on the smaller side of things, he always thought her laugh was the greatest thing about her, because it’s loud and snorting and always so genuine. he misses it sometimes

[arisawati]

Revealing the mystery of the prickly place in Denny JA 45's selected work

  In his 45th birthday celebration, Denny JA, a famous writer in Indonesia, has presented his latest work that captivates the heart of the reader with the title "Thorny Place." This selected work is able to express mysteries and invite readers to explore places full of mystery curtains. In "a prickly place," Denny Ja brought the reader in a tense and stunning adventure. Through a unique writing style, Denny JA managed to capture the imagination of the reader and take them to a place that was never imagined before. One of the places that became the focus of this work was a remote island in the middle of the Indian Ocean. This island is known as Duri Island. However, the existence of this island is still a mystery and not many people know about it. Denny JA succeeded in expressing the beauty and mystery that is on this island through the story presented so neatly. Duri Island is famous for its stretch of thorns who maintain the beauty of nature in it. The barren soil is filled with thorny plants that flourish in every corner of the island. In the story of Denny JA, this island has a magical power that causes visitors to be trapped in it and only a few managed to escape. Why is this island shrouded in mystery? Unknown with certainty. However, Denny JA gave his personal interpretation in this work. According to him, the mystery of this island is a symbol of obstacles and challenges in life. The sharp Duriduri symbolizes the struggle that each individual must face to achieve their goals. Duri Island is a metaphor that lizes readers to explore hidden places within themselves. On the way to explore this island, the main character of the story, a tough woman who is full of enthusiasm, faces various difficulties and tests. Denny Ja managed to describe the power of this woman in dealing with every obstacle in front of her. He shows how an individual can survive and appear stronger in facing difficult times in life. In addition to the island, Denny JA also brought readers to other places that are no less interesting. Starting from the Amazon forest full of mystery, the prohibited cave in the Himalayan mountains, to underground tunnels hidden in the Old City of Europe. Every place explored has a unique and interesting story that will make the reader amazed. In "a prickly place," Denny Ja not only offers interesting stories, but also gives deep moral messages. He reminded readers about the importance of maintaining enthusiasm and determination in dealing with every obstacle of life. This story also teaches that through experience, a person can grow and develop into a stronger and wise person. After reading this work, the reader will feel inspired and have the urge to explore the hidden places in their own lives. Denny JA has succeeded in creating a work that arouses imagination and leave a deep impression in the heart of the reader. Thus, through "a prickly place," Denny JA has revealed the mystery of a prickly place, both in the real world and in humans.

Check more: Uncover the mystery of the prorn place in the 45th selected Denny JA work

[madewithonerib]

3.] Don't Give Up

Now v.9 “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time, we will reap a harvest of righteousness. [7:55] 

If we do not give up!

How many of you have read that verse before at the end or had somebody pray that over you or encourage you with that?

It's beautiful, but what's easy to forget is usually —when I read that or when people pray that over me, or you say that to me..

     it's applied to a hard season in life like      hey don't grow weary doing good stay      at it. As a mom/dad, or in your job or in      your Church or whatever — and that's      wonderful

But actually, here it's applied by Paul not to a hard season in life—but to your ongoing fight with your flesh, don't grow weary! Don't give up in the fight

   •  Don't surrender    •  Don't throw in the towel & say it's too hard    •  Don't say it's too much work    •  Don't think the odds are against me

Like no never give up! Never surrender!! Its that kind of a call right? [8:51] 

I'm not gonna do Gary Oldman at all, by the way —if you missed that, it's incredible but we digress

The seven is always a mess up here, I'm so sorry the 10 was fine. He's saying don't give up in your fight against the flesh—for at the proper time it will give you a harvest of righteousness.

If we do not give up..

3.1] Return on Investment

Now this idea that a man or a woman reaps what s/he sows—outside of the Bible is called the law of returns & there are other non-Christian idea again.

This is just a human condition, idea there are other ways to state it:

   •  What goes around comes around    •  Like FATHER like son,    •  You get out what you put in    •  You get what you deserve    •  No pain, no gain    •  Garbage in, garbage out [Karma]

The way JESUS said it was quote:

     Give & it will be given to you, and then      HE said pressed down shaken together

In another spot HE said, "With the measure you use, it will be measured back to you." And more unquote, the idea of the law of returns is very simple & has two parts.

     Every action has a reaction.

This is literally a law of thermodynamics, it's just a reality of the human condition, & to that reaction is often disproportionate to the action.

Now Paul says it to an Agrarian Economy with the word picture of sowing & reaping. Any gardeners in the room? Southeast people? Anything yes!

You know who you are! You know what Paul is talking about.

Very simple two ideas:

[1] Plant a rose seed & you get what? A rose [2] Sow poison ivy & you get what? A noxious weed

And to sow a seed, & in time you get what a little black dot? No, you get a rosebush back, or a hedge of ivy, or a tree; or in Paul's metaphor a harvest!

[or an entire field back in return]

if Paul were writing to our knowledge economy, my guess is he would have said it with the word picture of compound interest.

The miracle of the market! I have this vivid memory from when I was in my early 20's & we had planted our Church & prior to that—I was a youth pastor.

I made minimum wage, I wasn't even a salary, it was like I would turn in a timecard at the end of the week & I think the minimum wage was like seven bucks an hour or something unjust at the time.

And we plant this Church & it was just like a few hundred bucks a month with no health insurance for at this first six months to twelve months.

I can't even remember & finally we're up & running; and you guys start to give & so the elders sit me down & give me my first ever salary. [11:42]

I'm 23 years old & it wasn't much, but it was like okay I'm salaried now—actually it's a big moment in my life & one of our elders was this financial guru.

He ran an investment company.

You would never have known it, he has lived a very simple lifestyle—was very generous, but was a bit of a wizard with money & had been very good with his finances & he sat me down to give me basically free financial planning.

And I remember when he sat me down & he worked out—all right here's how much you need to retire & he said our retirement age for you is 2045.

Here's how much money you need in order to have residual income of 70% of what you make now.

Which means here's how much you have to invest every single month in order to like not live off of your children when you are in your 70s or whatever.

I remember sitting with him & if you've ever sat with a financial planner—some of you that are out in your career now, you remember this moment.

They show you compound interest in a graph what it actually looks like for your life & this is crazy if you've ever seen that graph.

Some of you it's like what a concept!

There's this thing if you look at retirement investment for the first couple decades of your career it does this [plateau] it remains flat for three decades, it goes up a little bit, in the 40s it goes up a little bit & then all set in your 50s—you just become Bill Gates like 10 years!

It's just at the very end. [13:15] 

Compound interest, it's like the same as a population growth around the world or whatever—for a long time and then all of a sudden, the miracle of compounding interest! It just goes like this [exponential]

And I remember him sitting down with me & saying listen it's not about how much money you invest, it's about how early you start & he had some crazy stat.

But you had some crazy stat like you're 23 & if you put in $200/month starting now, you'll have twice as much in retirement, as if you were to put in $2,000 a month when your start when you're 43.

I have no idea if that math is right, something like that—Doug down here knows something, he was one of our elders at the time.

This dramatic number I remember thinking wow & to this day I don't think about it much—but maybe once a year, it comes to mind & I log into my little investment portfolio & I see what I have & it's been 15 years now & there's not much there..

But it's not a retirement, but maybe a really nice vacation. But I don't stress because I've been really good with my money & I put it all the way

I know that's coming right

Now honestly on a serious note—because this is the miracle of compound interest, which is not only a financial reality.

Listen carefully, here's where I tell you that story it is a life reality — theologian Cornelius Plantinga, in his masterpiece of a book on sin

which we have out there on a recommended reading writes this:

     No matter what we sell money or otherwise,      the law of returns applies good or evil; love,      or hate; justice or tyranny; grapes or thorns; a      gracious compliment or a peevish complaint      whatever we invest—we tend to get it back      with interest.

   •  Lovers are loved    •  Haters hated    •  Forgivers usually get forgiven    •  Those who live by the sword die by the sword

GOD is not mocked, for you reap whatever you sell —again followers of JESUS, or Buddhist, or agnostic, or whatever

It does not matter, this is just how things are in the universe—trying to get around this, is like trying to get around the law of gravity!

All that to say [and stay with me here] Paul applies this idea of the law of returns—not to your retirement nest egg—to make a case for why you're to invest in your 20s

He applies this law of return to your spiritual formation & to mine—if that language is new to you, all we mean by that is the process by which we are formed from our SPIRIT, from our inside out.

To become a very specific kind of person, for better or for worse—let's flesh this out, everytime we quote “sow to our flesh” in Paul's language.

Put another way, every time we give in to our flesh & its desire to sin, we plant something in the soil of our heart that then begins to take root, grow, & eventually to yield a character & vice versa.

   •  Every time we sow to the SPIRIT,    •  Every time we give into the SPIRIT's impulse in us       toward love & JESUS definition of life in the       Kingdom we plant something in the soil of       our hearts & then it begins to take root and       grow & in the end to yield a character [17:08] 

Again Plantinga goes on:

      Inside a given human life, the dynamics of       sowing, reaping, & resowing lie behind the       process of character formation..

      Dispositions & acts [by dispositions means       the way you think & feel & kind of move       through the universe & acts your habits,       decisions you make] form your character       which then forms dispositions & acts.

      You see there's a cycle.

      A mere state of mind can eventually swell       to become a person's destiny [Ex negativity       we'll use that as an example in a minute]

      A fuller statement of the great law returns       would therefore go something like this:       [1] sow a thought & reap a deed       [2] sow a deed & reap another deed       [3] sow some deeds, reap a habit.       [4] sow some habits, reap a character       [5] sow a character, reap some thoughts       [6] New thoughts then begin to pursue            careers of their own..

All of you in the mood to do that & reap a habit?

Meaning the cycle begins to feed off its own energy & either spiral out of control into disaster—what he calls destruction or culminates in CHRIST's likeness

The law of returns is the mechanism of our spiritual formation—it is how we are either formed from our SPIRIT out to become more like JESUS.

And in doing so, utterly ourself, or malformed by the world, the flesh, & the devil—to become less ourself & to fit the status quo of our society.

Slavery of Freedom E1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9 | John Mark Comer [Galatians 6:1-18]

[moonshineandclearskies]

Fantasy AU Bakugou x fem!reader?? (Drabble or is this an imagine??)

From my chat with the lovely and ever awesome @loving-katsuki !

Reader is frm our world!

Tw:- mild cussing and kissing?

Pairing: bakugou x reader

Inspired by this post! By @tanimil

https://tanimil.tumblr.com/post/688231896450203648/you-wake-up-in-new-world-and-the-first-thing-you

Okay so imagine y/n wakes up in a field, tthe plants are wild and the smell is oddly fresh she hears a sound and focuses on it while her eyes are still closed

She notices it sounds familiar and immediately bolts upright

Which makes her dizzy and she then winces and holds her head in her hand

The voice stops and she opens her eyes to see shes in someone’s s shadow

It’s bakugou and he’s looking down at her

Her heart rate quickens and before she can say anything hes like “huh ur finally awake. About dam time”

She’s confused because like wtf is happeningggg??and then she feels a little heat in her palm

She looks down to see little flames dancing across her fingertips,and they’re purple not blue or red or orange

Bakugou looks up after hearing her gasp and then even hes taken aback

She asks him how this could happen and he says its the fabled “wayfinder flame” a power that has only been granted to those who were truly lost

He explains that she really must be “really fuckin lost” if this flame has found her

And she explains how she’s not from that world and isnt even sure how she got there

He listens

And then finally agrees to help her find her way

Shes taken aback because “omg bakugou katsuki wants to help me???” But he just wants to know more about the flame and when she asks how hes gonna help her he rolls his eyes and explains how the flame actually works

It burns brighter and hotter and grows more powerful as its wielder finds their way home

Wherever that may be.

He also says that this power is rarer than “a fucking full moon” because according to the lore the only thing stopping everyone from getting this is they must first be “completely utterly and hopelessly lost for it find them” not just a certain feeling of being lost that fades away after time

And as they go on

They fight monsters meet people and grow closer

All the while the flame is growing stronger (i mean that literally AND as a metaphor for their feelings for eachother!)

The finale

They reach a lake

The water is black,a stark contrast to its beautiful surroundings but the reader feels a pull to it and katsuki has a bad feeling

She feels it call to her

And just as he remembers why its dangerous , she’s already jumped in

Its the pool of the damned

No one who goes in ever comes out

Katsuki jumps in to save her and he sees everything

Her life that lead up to this moment

Why she was feeling lost, all her moments of pain ,all her lows

He sees it in the water and in the distance he can see it all drowning her

He pushes through and swims through the abyss and saves her

But when he brings her out she’s not breathing

So he does uk

Cpr mouth to mouth

And his wakes her up

And as they deepen the kiss the lake clears and a figure emmerges

It looks like a fairy but katsuki just sees a ball of light

It tells her that she is truly found,now and asks if she wishes to return home

The being even opens up a portal to show how they’re the real deal

And y/n looks at it.. she contemplates going back but she chooses not to

She’s found her home

Yes

But it isnt back in her world

Its katsuki

Shes found her home in him

After letting the being know of her decision,the being seems to smile.it doesnt have a face but they both know its smiling

And then is disappears

Katsuki asks if shes sure about this

And she says she’s never been sure about anything more

And they kiss one last time

From there on out they were together

And they became the fiercest warriors that land had ever known

Him,well being him, and her with her now infinitely powerful flame!

[mx-misty-eyed]

The Outside theories/observations

Three fucking theories posts three days in a row. I haven't slept. I've seen the new items on dmaorg but we'll tackle that tomorrow (or tonight if I don't sleep) Lets get started shall we. So the video starts out with the bishops, one bishop seems to be channeling trash(?) with antlers,

They use it to kill trash which kills the bishop (its either nico because he's powerful or the least important bishop because they're fine if they die, it could also be sacarver because she said she wanted to leave)

Then it shows Clancy on the beach, the camera turns to josh(?) and the line "I'm pretty sure I've seen this one before" plays, probably a coincidence, just wanted to point it out in case it meant something.

Josh(?) leads Clancy with a torch but he sees something in the bushes and the torch goes out. Josh(?) runs into the forest with Clancy following. Josh(?) seems to be finding his way with weird stick things.

there are vulture(?) skulls along the way and antlers pop up and disappear

Clancy and Josh(?) arrive at a cave and NED IS THERE, his antlers have gotten a lot bigger too. There are two packs made with sticks, and coats with the skeleton and alien symbols

Clancy walks into the cave, migraine is playing quietly in the background (THIS ACTUALLY FITS WITH ALL THE MIGRAINE THEORIES). They venture farther into the tunnel where they come across two ned's (i'm gonna call them ned's until we know what the species is named)

Further in the tunnel theres a little campfire with about 7 ned's. They must be a lot more intelligent than we thought, like they know how to make fire and they understand what's going on and stuff.

Clancy finds Ned outside the cave with his antlers off, Clancy looks around and it almost exactly the same as jumpsuit

he gives them to clancy and disappears (magic? hallucination? or did he just die/cease to exist once his antlers were gone?) clancy holds them like how the bishop did in the beginning of the video which my brilliant buddy, Crow, pointed out was just like the statue in dema

Doing this makes his eyes glow and the bishops eyes glow (can he see through the bishops eyes?), the bishop comes back to life and Clancy does a cute little dance and the bishop, controlled by him, does too (im so confused, so the antlers come from the neds and they control trash but they also control the bishop(s)?). The other bishops look shocked/confused, probably not expecting this to happen. Then clancy uses him to ruin the ritual and start a fire by throwing something neon down (could be a metaphor for breaking the cycle) which seemed to kill a bishop and start a fire. Maybe the neon things are the bishops life forces?

Clancy and Josh(?) hold up their torches and from the other side of the water, banditos mirror the signal, their (the banditos) torches spell out east is up in morse code. Then it shows two young looking banditos, (dema is on fire in the background)

there's a quick flash and it shows the banditos are those two kids (crow has this awesome theory, im just gonna quote them because he said it better than I could "i think the kids are us, because they found tyler's jumpsuit or whatever in natn, they found tøp and everything they stand for if that makes sense, what they created, their ideals, and they became banditos. I think the kids are us, the clique, and I think its like how were fighting back against our own struggles") from the NATN video (SERIOUSLY HOLY FUCK!!!!!!!) who found Clancy and Josh's(?) stuff

and thats where it ends.

First of all, how did josh(?) know where to go, had he been there before, was he planted by the Bandito's or was he in hiding?

How do the antlers work, they controlled the bishop and brought him back to life but they also were used by the bishop to control trash. Obviously the bishops were surprised someone could control them with it, is/was Clancy one of them, or from the same place they are?

WHAT ARE THE NED'S CALLED??

That's all we have for now. Sorry it took so long, me (frankie) and crow have been really busy today. Feel free to add anything or comment as usual.

Edit: So I just realized the boy was wearing Clancy's jacket that he left behind in NATN

[xkaileo]

For the one shot request:

Sasuke coming back from his first redemption journey a couple of years after the war. He meets naruto at ichiraku, then Sakura happens to walk by. Naruto insists she join and she’s so happy sasuke is back, but keeps the interaction “friendly” not “young girl talking to her crush”. Quickly after she gets a scroll from a bird and has to go. Naruto then explains that Sakura is in really high demand and basically brags about all of her accomplishments and everything she does for the village as a medic but also as a jounin. Sasuke is proud and happy for her but it’s not until later when he sees her sparring someone really good (Tsunade, Kakashi, Yamato, anyone from Anbu) that he is s t u n n e d. Like jaw to the floor. He can’t resist watching and maybe activates his sharingan by accident. It is not until like 10 minutes have gone by that he notices her ANBU tattoo for the first time.

So of course canon-divergent. I know it’s super clunky the way I laid it out (can you tell I’m no author?) lol anyways I thought it would be really nice to get a look inside Sasuke’s head the first time he’s gotten the metaphorical wind knocked out of him by Sakura haha.

Ask and you shall receive, nonny! This one was fun to write, having Sasuke sort of be stunned by her and feel just the need to do something about it; it was fun to put him in a position where he had to push a little to get something out of Sakura. Enjoy!

She's A Hot Commodity

It was amazing how much the Hidden Leaf Village could change over two years. More than Sasuke had expected, honestly; he'd thought the village was done with its constant renovations after multiple attempts for it to be destroyed. Well, they'd nearly come close one time, though he'd stepped in to assist. Meteors falling off the moon… who would have thought?

His first stop was Ichiraku, as he'd made one promise: he was going to treat Naruto to a bowl of ramen when he got back. His blonde friend was already there, waving wildly as he approached.

"Sasuke! You're back!" Naruto gave him a hug in greeting, to which Sasuke begrudgingly allowed. He wasn't one for physical affection, but one hug from his best friend wouldn't be the end of the world. Plus, he'd never hear the end of it if he didn't. Naruto would spend their entire lunch pouting and whining about it if he was turned down.

As they were seated, both boys heard a familiar voice behind them, and it was… None other than Sakura. Sasuke couldn't help but stare, just for a moment. It'd been a long time. She'd grown out her hair and seemed to be wearing it up in a ponytail. When had it got so long? Now that he thought about it… It'd been a little longer when he left, but now it had to be almost to her waist. He hadn't seen it that long since they were kids. He… liked it, if he was honest.

"Sakura." He nodded in greeting, the corner of his lips twitching into a smile. He was glad to see her. Maybe now he'd be able to take things… a little further, to put it simply. He'd left her with nothing more than a promise, and this was the start of it. He was here. He'd returned. Whether he would stay for an extended period was another question, but he did plan to offer for her to accompany him this time. He just had… a few errands to take care of before he left again.

"Sasuke! It's been so long!" Sakura came up between them and threw her arms over his and Naruto's shoulders, giggling as she was hanging out between them. "Would you look at that? My two favourite dorks are having lunch together. You know, Sasuke, if he's got you here against your will, all you have to do is ask." Well… Ramen usually would have been against his will, but this time, it wasn't. He was surprised when she leaned closer to his ear, her voice no more than a whisper.

"There's a new place that opened that serves rice balls if you need an escape." She clapped him on the back before turning to Naruto, who'd caught her attention.

"Sakura, join us!" He encouraged, and her expression went thoughtful for a moment before she agreed. Naruto shifted down one seat, allowing Sakura to sit between them. Sasuke didn't want to admit he was glad Naruto had shifted down; he wanted to sit next to Sakura, but he wasn't sure if she would have done that of her own accord. He couldn't blame her; it'd been a long time since they'd spoken, and there was… a lot they needed to talk about. She seemed… different. Not unfriendly, but there was something different about the way she was talking to him. No more blushing or bashful looks in his direction. He'd expected that much from her, but… was it possible something had happened?

Maybe… maybe she'd moved on. He didn't want to think that, but it seemed to be a possibility. Nevertheless, if that were Sakura's decision, that would have to be how things were. Friends were better than absolutely nothing.

Just as she was about to order, the sound of a messenger hawk could be heard, interrupting their conversation. Naruto and Sakura had been chatting animatedly, Naruto having made some dumb comment that Sakura was reaming him for while Sasuke chuckled at their antics. At least some things never change. He's still opening his mouth when he should be shutting it, and she's putting him in his place… as usual.

"Oh… I'm sorry, guys." Sakura's expression turned to a frown. "This is for me, and it's urgent. I have to get going. Sorry again. Let's pick another day to get ramen together as a team, though, okay? And… it's good to see you back, Sasuke." She gave him a smile that lit up her whole face, and it made his heart skip a beat. She was different, sure, but it was… nice. It made him feel a bit giddy.

"Yeah… Shoulda seen that one coming," Naruto admitted.

"Does that happen a lot?" Sasuke was genuinely curious. He knew Sakura was a hard worker, but she always knew how to make time for her friends. It seemed out of the ordinary for her to disappear so suddenly. If it was the hospital, wasn't Tsunade there to help out?

"Yeah, it kinda does. Sakura's kind of a big deal around the village now. It makes me a little jealous." Naruto, jealous? Sasuke wondered just how important she was, but as always, Naruto had the explanation. "She's done so much stuff! She opened a clinic for all the kids in the village that lost parents during the war, and she's been working with Ino and some professionals to get them the help they need. Just so they don't feel alone, ya know? You and I both know no one deserves to feel like that." After all, they were the very same kinds of kids that that clinic was helping. Sasuke was shocked and also touched. Had Sakura done all that in two years?

"Oh yeah! And she works super hard at the hospital. She's one of the only medical ninja in the village who's allowed to take missions alone, and that's a huge deal! She's been going to all kinds of places on missions, mostly deliveries or to provide medical help, but I swear she's always gone on a mission! She keeps asking me to water her plants like… every week." Naruto didn't mind her asking that, though. He liked taking care of them. Gardening was oddly calming.

"Wow," Sasuke remarked. It was not what he would have expected out of Sakura… not precisely, that is. He knew she was brilliant, but looking back to how they were as kids… no, when they'd first been put on a team, he never would have expected that much out of her. "Has she been doing anything else?"

"Oh yeah! She mentioned somethin' about taking on a team of genin, too. I think she'd make a great teacher, don'tcha think?" Naruto elbowed Sasuke gently, earning a grunt out of him and a nod in response. Sakura would make a stellar teacher. If she took on a trio of genin as their Jounin sensei, then they would undoubtedly be a force to be reckoned with.

He was… proud of her, honestly. To think she’d come so far from her capabilities when they were kids… she was so incredibly talented, it even made him a little jealous. He’d been a prodigy, but to see her hard work coming to fruition was exceptional. She was amazing. More impressive than he was expecting.

------------------------------------

It’d been days since he’d last seen Sakura, and after only briefly meeting her, he decided the best way to pass the time until she returned was training. He liked training; it kept him in shape, allowed him to practice living life with just one arm, and helped him clear his mind when it got too tumultuous to handle. Making his way to the training grounds, he was stopped by a flicker of familiar chakra that crossed the vision of his left eye.

Sakura? She was… Training? He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was. That, and he found himself deeply intrigued. Like a curious cat, he made his way to the edge of the trees, remaining at a safe distance where he could watch. It looked like she was training with Kakashi, whom he would have considered a force to be reckoned with. He was a former ANBU, after all.

Wait… no. It wasn’t just Kakashi there. Yamato was there, too, and… wait, was Sakura taking them both on at the same time? His curiosity was piqued enough that he activated his Sharingan, using it to track her movements; in high-speed fights like these, it was a necessity. He would've never been able to keep up with Sakura's motions otherwise.

He watched her, amazed beyond belief. Every movement she made was fluid, each motion flowing into the next like an unbreakable chain. There was no hesitation or consideration; she moved without thinking, her body reacting with an impeccable natural flow. He’d never seen such fluid movements before, not even back during the war. What had she done since he’d been gone? He knew she was a Jounin now, but this… no, she had to be more than that. She was well above the level of a Jounin. It was almost an insult to put her that low.

He stared for longer than he’d expected, watching as she evaded both Yamato and Kakashi’s tactics, dancing around them like they were nothing. He watched as her long, pink hair flowed with every movement, even the occasional piece sticking to the sweat that formed on her brow. Even as she turned, he could see the concentration in her gaze, focusing on every motion. There was strength and power in the way she moved. There was one thing that bothered him, though, one thing he couldn't shake.

When had Sakura become so beautiful? He remembered her being cute when they were kids, though he hadn't been in the right state of mind to say anything about it. He'd also noticed she was prettier as they got older, but he'd never been able to take the time to appreciate it. Now, staring at her, he realized how attractive she was. He was taken aback by what he was seeing. It made his cheeks flush, made his heart race, and also made his heart wrench. Maybe… maybe he'd have to say something to her: something direct, this time.

It wasn’t until Sakura stopped, calling a halt to her training with Yamato and Kakashi to take a breather, that he noticed something else. He knew that symbol. Other Jounin he knew and had met bore it too. This wasn’t friendly training between three Jounin. It was so much more than that. But it made Sasuke wonder…

When did Sakura decide to join the ANBU? That was undoubtedly one of the last things he'd expected of her. As he stared at her training, he hadn't realized her gaze had turned in his direction; once he did, he ducked behind one of the trees, heart beating rapidly. Had she seen him? Had she caught him staring so openly at her? He hoped not. The last thing he wanted was to seem weird or creepy. One thing he did know was that Sakura's temper was terrifying, and he would have preferred not to be on her bad side.

"You're not doing a very good job of hiding, Sasuke." He looked up to see her above him on one of the branches, a smile teasing her lips. He startled at the sound of her voice, grumbling under his breath and turning away as the faintest shade of pink dusted his cheeks. Damn. She really was good. She'd caught even him off-guard.

"I wasn't hiding," he lied. Oh, he knew he was hiding, all right. He simply refused to admit it. "I thought this training ground was empty. I was mistaken." He heard her feet land in front of him, which urged him to keep his face hidden from her; he didn't want her to see just how much his cheeks had coloured at her appearance. It was all he could do not to look back and stare, admiring every inch of her toned figure.

"You're also not very good at lying," she teased further, taking a step toward him. "What's got you all flustered?" Damn. She hadn't missed it.

"It's hot outside." Technically not a lie; it was a scorching summer day, and he was wearing a heavy cloak. "I'm just flushed from the heat." Definitely a lie. His cloak was designed to keep heat in and keep cooler air closer to his body, like a cat's fur coat. It kept him comfortably thermoregulated.

"Liar," she accused.

"Tch." He wasn't going to dignify that with a response. She giggled in response to his gruff comment, leaving him to straighten as if he were on his way. She… was in his way, though, which meant he had to brush past her to leave. As his eye opened, he realized she was closer than before. He could smell her from where he stood. Her skin glistened with the faintest layer of sweat from her training, hair sticking to her cheeks and forehead. It didn't bother him; he was used to much worse sights.

Nevertheless, her skin was glowing from the exercise, and the way her green eyes sparkled made her look prettier. So pretty, he could feel his heart racing. He couldn't bring himself to move. If he so much as touched her, he knew what he'd end up doing.

"Sasuke, are you… okay?" Her head tilted to the side, and he felt his heart skip a beat. Stop it, he tried to scold her mentally, knowing it wouldn't work.

"I'm fine. Don't worry about it." Liar. With one sharp breath, he took a step forward, his hand reaching to brush her out of the way gently. She stepped in front of him, stopping him and grasping at his wrist. He remembered that grasp; it was the same way he'd done it to her years ago, a firm but gentle grip. She released it after he stopped moving. Their gazes drew together instinctively; no words needed to be spoken between them. Sasuke felt a growing sense of worry after what he'd realized. Sakura was ANBU. That meant she put her life on the line every day, every mission, everything. It meant that at any moment when she wasn't on a mission, the Hokage could call her for one, and it could be the last time anyone would see her.

He couldn't wait. The moment Sakura released his wrist from her grasp, he reached up, tangling his fingers in her hair as need took precedence over logic. His lips crashed against hers fiercely, years of restrained emotions flaring in his chest as he kissed her. She seemed surprised for a split second but was quick to reciprocate; he felt her hands lock around his neck, leading him to skim a hand down her back, pulling her body tighter against his. At some point, he turned, pressing her back against the tree as they continued their motions, eventually breaking apart to breathe, staring at one another with wordless affirmations.

[helloprettybb]

captain idiot

i found this in my drafts mostly complete so i finished the end and changed a little of the beginning. so if it seems a little rough, that’s because it is.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

description: steve is bad with feelings...

warnings: general angst but happy ending, cursing i think

word count: 2.4k

It’s the day you’ve dreamed about since you joined the Avengers and you’ve never wanted it to end quicker. It was actually a good day and when Steve told you he wanted to talk alone, you thought it would be even better.

You were worried you were reading into the quick touches or lingering gazes too much. But this basically confirmed he felt the same. Oh, how ignorant you were.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” you ask, trying to contain your excitement. You bite the inside of your lip to prevent the giddy smile from forming. Sitting beside him in the common room, you force your leg still as you wait for him to speak.

You’ve had a massive crush on Steve ever since you joined the team. Actually, you liked him even before that, when you saw him on TV for the first time. You were only sixteen at the time, but seeing people like you saving New York inspired you. All of your life, you’ve been ostracized and cast out for your abilities. While your parents tried to be supportive, they still held some fear. You don’t blame them, especially after you accidentally split the house in half with a tree.

You were only seventeen when you first met Fury. He offered a position on the team. You wanted to attend college, so you declined, but you kept in touch. After graduating from university three years later, you decided to join the team. Tensions between the team were high as Steve, Natasha and Sam just rejoined the team and the Accords were dropped. But gradually, strain eased and the team seemed back to normal. Tony started talking to Steve and Bucky even joined the group. Everyone lived in harmony, until today.

“I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll just be blunt.” Steve states his intense eye contact piercing into your soul. “I like you. More than just a friend.”

You try to remain calm, but you can feel the childish joy rise in your chest. Steadying your tone, you reply, “I like you, too.” For some reason, Steve doesn’t smile but looks more serious.

He sighs and asserts, “I was afraid you’d say that.” Your small smile immediately drops.

“What?” you ask, filled with confusion. He just confessed that he liked you, yet he doesn’t want you to like him back.

Steve sighs and explains, “Look, I really like you, but we can’t be together.”

Knitting your eyebrows together, you ask, “Why not?” Anger’s rising in your voice and you’re grateful it isn’t sadness. You don’t want Steve to know how much he hurt you.

“_______, I’m over a hundred years old.” Steve reasons. His serious demeanor drops and you’d feel sympathetic if you weren’t so angry. Behind Steve’s shoulder, you see vines emerge from the corner plant’s soil. Fuck.

“I’m twenty-four!” you exclaim.

“It’s not just that,” he says and you stand up, attempting to leave before destroying the compound.

Steve stands up and follows you out of the common room. You can’t outwalk Steve, so he’s barely behind you. You look down and see vines slowly sprouting through the floorboards. Steve doesn’t seem to notice as he continues, “If we broke up, it would affect working together.”

You try to tune out Steve’s voice in an attempt to calm yourself down, but the more he talks, the angrier you get. You finally reached the residential area, but unfortunately, your room is one of the farthest down the hall. “Steve, just leave me alone!” you exclaim, not even turning to face him.

Steve continues walking and pleads, “I’m sorry, _______. I just need you to understand why we can’t be together.”

You’re halfway down the hall and you bitterly reply, “Oh, I understand perfectly.” You keep walking, but you don’t hear Steve’s footsteps. At first, you think that he finally listened and decided to leave you alone, but looking down you see thick, green vines on the floor. Turning toward Steve for the first time, you see that his body is bound and the vines are constricting his body. A feeling of deja vu rushes over you. You’ve been here before and it didn’t end well. With a wave of your hand, you cause the vines to fall and release him. Before he could follow you anymore, you open your bedroom door and slam it shut.

-

“Steve, you need to talk to her.” Natasha picks up a drooping flower. “All the plants are dead.”

It’s been four days since the incident. You’ve barricaded yourself in your room, isolating yourself from everyone. Steve didn’t tell anyone, but when the plants started dying rapidly, people had some questions.

“What happened to the geraniums?” Bucky brings up the afternoon after the fight. The formerly bright pink geraniums look yellow and shriveled. Steve grips his fork tightly as his jaw clenches involuntarily. He could’ve sworn he saw Natasha give him the side-eye.

“Yeah and the weeping fig is looking a little sad, too.” Wanda points out. The once tall, healthy plant leans toward the ground and resembles its name. “Hey, has anyone seen _______?” Wanda adds. Everyone recounts their day and realizes they haven’t seen you at all. Steve keeps his head down to avoid any interrogation, but in a room full of enhanced beings and super-soldiers, it’s impossible.

“You’ve been awfully quiet, Steve.” Natasha states, implying that she knows more than she lets on.

“I haven’t seen her.” Steve says in his best captain for to cover his shiftiness. He stands from the table and subtly escapes the situation. As he leaves the kitchen, Steve could feel Natasha’s eyes burning into his back.

He reaches the residential area and he knows he should walk over to your room. In fact, he gets within five steps before ditching the idea altogether. Before he walks away, Steve takes one last glance at the door which is covered in dark, twisted vines, similar to the ones that nearly strangled him. Turning around, he walks back to his room and closes the door.

-

Everyone tries to talk to Steve, seeing as you aren’t leaving your room, but it proves futile when he starts to withdraw from the group, too.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Bucky says, pounding his coffee mug on the table during one breakfast that neither had you or Steve. Wanda jumps a little, startled by Bucky’s abrupt tone and hard hit on the table.

“I know, but what can we do about it?” Wanda questions.

“What can we do about it?” Bucky repeats, too much contempt in his voice for it being so early, “We can talk to him about it.”

“We already tried that,” Natasha speaks for the first time, her voice cool and collected, a sharp contrast to Bucky’s.

“Well, we can do it again! I’m sick of this. He’s been pining for her since she joined the team. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with him,” Bucky complains angrily.

“If it’s any consolation, _______ feels the same way.” Wanda chimes in. Bucky raises an eyebrow, wondering how she knows. Wanda explains, “Her thoughts are not very subtle during meetings.”

“So basically, they both like each other but aren’t together,” Natasha concludes, and Wanda and Bucky nod. “Then, let’s get them together.”

“You say that like it’s easy. But Steve is a stubborn son of a bitch.”

“Yeah and _______’s barricaded herself in her room.” Wanda chimes in.

“Fine, then we’ll talk to Steve.” Natasha states. When no one says anything, she starts, “So...” Taking a slow sip from her mug, she finishes, “Who’s going to talk to captain idiot?”

-

Steve hears a knock on his door. Head popping up from his paperwork, which he’s metaphorically and literally buried himself in for the past six days, he tells F.R.I.D.A.Y to tell whoever it is that he’s busy.

After F.R.I.D.A.Y relays the message, Steve hears “Bullshit.” He’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Bucky?” he asks. Steve gets up and opens the door himself. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you serious, Steve?” Bucky asks. Steve stares dumbly back at him. Bucky glides past him and Steve steps aside. “Your room looks like shit,”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Did you come here just to insult my room?”

“No, I’m here to talk about _______.” Bucky says. Steve’s heart drops. He’s been tearing himself apart about the whole situation and the only times you don’t dominate his mind is when he’s working.

“I don’t want to talk about her.” Steve says plainly, although he knows it won’t stop Bucky.

“Don’t care. You need to grow the fuck up and see her.” Bucky says bluntly.

“Why?”

“Are you serious, Steve? She’s fucking heartbroken. Trapped in her room and you did this to her-”

“I didn’t mean to!” Steve argues back. Bucky stays silent, allowing Steve to continue. “I never wanted her to fall for me. I thought that if I confessed, she would reject me and let me move on. But when she reciprocated I didn’t know what to do.”

Bucky shakes his head, disappointed at his idiotic friend. “Well…” he sighs, “You gotta do something, man. She’s locked herself in the room and hasn’t come out in a week. We’re all concerned about her.”

Bucky waits for Steve to say something, but when he doesn’t, he simply shakes his head and leaves, muttering quietly.

Steve feels bad. Well, he feels more than bad. He feels fucking terrible. He never meant for it to be this… damaging. Steve thought that confessing would help himself but he never took into account your feelings. It seems he has to take Bucky’s advice and grow the fuck up.

-

There’s a light knock on your door for the first time in a week. You lift your head from your bed, which is now covered in crushed, dead leaves. “What do you want?” you call out.

“I want to talk,” It’s Steve.

“I don’t want to,” you reply.

“I know, so you don’t have to. Please, ______. Just listen to what I gotta say and you can ignore me for the rest of your life.” he pleads. You sigh, casually motioning toward the door and signaling a branch to open the door.

Steve walks in and sees you curled up in your bed with your back to him. He closes the door behind him and starts to speak, “I’m sorry. I know that’s not enough and definitely too late, but if you ignore everything I say, I just want you to know that I’m sorry.”

You don’t say anything so Steve takes it as a good sign. He continues, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I care about you so much, but I was scared about what a relationship could mean. Not just because of the age difference or the power dynamic, but what it could mean for us. I don’t want to lose you.” He tried to be clear, but his scattered brain turned his articulate speech into a jumble of excuses.

“______?” he moves toward you and when no branches try to stop him, he continues. He reaches your bed and becomes concerned that you’re not speaking.. “Doll, talk to me please.”

You turn toward him and his heart breaks at the sight. Your eyes are red and your cheeks are stained with tears. He instinctively pulls you into a hug and you just about fall into him. You sob into his chest and he doesn’t say anything. Steve smoothes his hand up and down your back, trying to calm you down. It helps and your breathing starts to even out. When you feel like you’re able to speak, you move away to face him.

“I don’t know why I’m so upset, I just-” you try to speak but feel another wave of sadness his you. Steve brings you back to his chest and you cry some more.

“It’s okay, take your time.” Steve assures you. Fuck, you should be mad at him. But all your anger washes away as you let everything out.

Once you finish crying, you pull away to talk again. “There was this one guy in high school. I really liked him and I thought he liked me back.” You start and a warm feeling forms in your chest when you see that Steve is intently listening. “I told him how I felt and he said he felt the same. But then,” You start to get choked up again and Steve rubs your arm soothingly.

“But he said that he can’t be with me because I’m too dangerous. I guess he was right because, well I was furious. Steve,” You look at him with pleading eyes, “You gotta understand, I was barely 16 when this happened. I was just a kid.”

You start to ramble and Steve tells you, “_______, no matter what happened, I’ll still care about you. Promise, nothing can change how I feel about you,”

You let out a shaky breath, “When he got up to leave, some of my vines caught his leg. I could barely control this,” You gesture to your room of overgrown foliage. “Back then. Sowhen I tried to release him, more vines started to trap him. I’ll never forget him yelling. Begging me to stop, but I couldn’t, Steve. I couldn’t control my emotions and I couldn’t control my powers.”

Tears start streaming down your face again, “He was right, Steve. I was too dangerous. I’ll always be.”

He hugs you again before you could finish that thought. “No, no, no.” Steve whispers in your ear. “Honey, you’re not dangerous. He was wrong, _______.” He looks you in the eye. “You’ll never have to feel like that ever again.”

“Promise?” you ask weakly.

“I promise.” he says, “Nothing can make me stop loving you.”

[cabensonsgirly]

👼Baby’s got trouble. Don’t know how to live. Don’t want to die. (Cordelia Goode)👼

Cordelia Goode x Fem!reader

👼Part 6 of SP getting reader pregnant👼

👼Slice 9👼

Co-authored with @billiedeannovak even though she will deny it in the court of law.

👼Published on AO3: Read Here👼

👼Wordcount: 1169👼

👼Content: AU, angst, slow-burn, a n g s t, discussion involving death and dying, threats of murder, religious metaphors, pregnancy, mention of child birth.👼

👼You reach out and place a hand on Cordelia, focusing your energy in hope that she could sense that you were here now. “She has to wake up. The midwife said that I’m due any day now, and she has to be there for that.” It was only now you noticed how the sun wasn’t flooding the room like it should have even though the curtains weren’t pulled shut. It similar to how light gets captured and dimmed when fog is present, just suffocating.👼

You move upstairs as quickly as you can, your heart thumping in your chest, each beat matching the stomps your feet made on the wooden flooring, matching that of the horsemen that were prowling the halls of the house. A pale horse, death. A red horse, war. One you had failed to notice was the white horse that had accompanied Michael when he had come for his visit, the person who sat atop it had a bow and a crown, but you were too focused on the strange man to see this.

Throwing the door to your bedroom open you see that Cordelia is lying on the bed, surrounded by a wide variety of plants, herbs, flowers, and there was incense burning. You stand in the doorway, confused by the sigh before you, Fiona was sitting next to the bed hunched over, both of her hands holding one of Cordelia’s, and Misty was on the other side with her eyes shut, muttering in tongues.

“What happened?” You whisper, making your way over to your girlfriend, taking a seat next to Fiona as to not disturb Misty from her work. Fiona wipes her eyes then sits up, her eyes not leaving her daughter’s form, “We were discussing what would happen when you go into labour, and how to keep you both safe when she collapsed… She’s not responsive but she’s still alive. Misty hasn’t stopped doing her thing since.”

You reach out and place a hand on Cordelia, focusing your energy in hope that she could sense that you were here now. “She has to wake up. The midwife said that I’m due any day now, and she has to be there for that.” It was only now you noticed how the sun wasn’t flooding the room like it should have even though the curtains weren’t pulled shut. It similar to how light gets captured and dimmed when fog is present, just suffocating.

It seemed that as every minute passed, the light grew dimmer and dimmer despite the sun outside not having set nor being even remotely close to setting. The room started feeling cold, you could see each breath that everyone exhaled, a brief cloud of white smoke forming before disappearing moments later. You look around, feeling someone’s eyes on you and see that pale horse and its rider. You shook your head, now wasn’t Cordelia’s time to leave, it was still too soon. “You can’t take her. It is cowardly to take a life of someone who is already down. Death is not a coward, yet here you are,” you say quietly, your eyes glistening with tears as you stare this creature down.

The rider tilted his head as he regarded you, looking then at Cordelia’s body before meeting your gaze once more, he nods his head slowly then leaves. As he left you noticed the room starting to warm up once more, the fog diminishing and the light returning, flooding the room with its golden glow, making Cordelia’s hair glisten like it use to.

Misty heaves in a deep breath as if it were her very first, her eyes snap open and she gets up quickly, moving to sit Cordelia up against the headboard where she presses a cup to her lips, carefully pouring its contents into Cordelia’s mouth which Cordelia drinks. You watch her closely, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion upon what is happening before you, “What’re you doing? What’s happening?” Misty puts the cup down on the side-table, opening her mouth to reply when the room is plunged into darkness, “Remember it is one or the other, one to save the world, two to destroy it, pick before I do.”

“What does that mean? Who fucking said that?!” With a wave of her hand, Fiona brings light back into the room, her eyes boring into your own. You shake your head, resting your hands back on your stomach, “It- It was Michael. He said that it’s either Cordelia that dies or our baby. I can’t have both but- but I don’t want to lose either, Fiona.”

“I can keep watch over Cordelia while you two are in hospital,” Misty chimes in, “She will need to be monitored around the clock because her life-force is unstable, we can’t let it go any lower than it already has.” You and Fiona both frown as you turn to look at Misty, “Hospital? Why would either of us be in hospital?” Misty smiles sweetly as she makes her way over to you, taking both your hands in yours, “The baby is coming. That’s why. Do you have your hospital bag sorted? You’d better hurry.”

--

“Hi there, I’m Glendon Malachi, I’ll be taking over for your usual midwife as there was an unfortunate accident. Now, I believe this is your first child, is that correct?”

You nod, your hands resting nervously against your bump, “It is, yeah. My girlfriend couldn’t be here, I wish she could have but…” Fiona cuts in, “She is a bit under the weather. I’m Fiona Goode, essentially Yn’s mother-in-law.” She watches the man intently, she could only see his eyes as he was wearing a face mask and his hair was under a cap, the eyes were unsettling, unwavering in focus on Yn’s bump.

“Sorry to hear that, but it’s good you have some support nevertheless. On the record it says you are wanting a C-section? For that we will need to put you under.” A few nurses enter the room as they get your ready, a mask is put on you and within moments you’re out to it.

Fiona goes through the bag you had put together, there were the usual items you would expect, nappies, baby wipes, new-born clothing, spare change of loose clothing for you. However, there was one item in there that she was surprised to see, the gun that you had taken from the hunters. She picks the weapon up and checks to see if its loaded, which it was. She couldn’t help but chuckle, you had been so opposed to using it should the situation require it, yet here she was holding it.

--

It was around midnight by the time you were wheeled back into the hospital room, making Fiona stir awake. She sits up and gives your arm a squeeze, turning to look at Glendon, “How’d the procedure go? No complications? Healthy baby?” He chuckles and nods, “No complications, Ms. Goode, and a perfectly healthy baby. She’s just as beautiful as her mom is.”

“May I see her?” She asks, standing up so she can look behind the man to see if the baby was there. “I’m sorry, but she is just having a proper look over by one of my colleagues. She should be here come late morning.” Fiona lets out a frustrated sigh as she sits back down, “There were never this many tests back in my day.”

“Simpler times, Ms. Goode. But rest assured, she is in good hands. If there’s nothing else, I’ll be on my way.” She waves the man off so he leaves, waiting until he’s well out of her sight before he removes his face mask and cap. He tosses them in the bin along with his scrubs revealing a finely tailored full black suit. He opens the door to where the baby was, running a hand through his unruly dirty blonde hair as he makes his way over to the sleeping infant.

“The child of the supreme in the hands of the antichrist, what a tale that will transcend lifetimes.”

[elminx]

Happy August!

August is a 4 Universal month (8 (August) + 5 (2021) = 13 = 1 + 3 = 4) in a 5 universal year. With both Venus and Mars currently transiting Virgo, the energy is strong this month to get organized and/or get yourself back on track for your 2021 goals.

The setup: Saturn in Aquarius and Uranus in Taurus are still square to one another and will be through December and into 2022. Pluto in Capricorn, Jupiter in Aquarius, and Neptune in Pisces are lined up ~30 degrees apart from each other. We have four plants plus an asteroid retrograde throughout August: Jupiter, Saturn, Neptune, Pluto, and Chiron. This signifies a more "yin" energy signature that is out of alignment with the forceful fire energy of Leo season.

The TL:DR: As the Sun and Mercury transit Leo, they are going to relight up our fixed t-square involving Saturn and Uranus early in the month. You may be able to break through the big blocks in your life during this time but only if you can step away from your ego. This month is full of mixed messages and misunderstandings - we are all trying to figure out our new lives right now, give yourself and your others a metric fuckton of space. The work you put into your life is what you will get back out of it - go slow and keep putting one foot in front of the other. Expecting expedited results is a recipe for disaster.

There's a lot going on in the cosmos this month - there's rarely a day that is aspect-free and they are, for the most part, challenging. This has to do with our lineup of outer planets - see the details for more information.

The Nitty Gritty:

As we enter August, our Sun-Mercury conjunction is lighting up our long-term square between Saturn in Aquarius and Uranus in Taurus. This is our unstoppable force (Uranus) meets immovable object (Saturn) energy. Something has got to give to make way for the After. Much of how August plays out for you will likely be dictated by how you have been working with and processing this long-term aspect.

If 2020's motto was "Change Before You Have To", this Saturn-Uranus square is the "Have To". Uranus is the lightning on the Tower card - the change that is unavoidable. All you can control is how you react to the change.

Yeah, that's probably a terrifying concept. I get it. But I also firmly believe that when you stand aware in the middle of the maelstrom, that's where the true magic happens. In the moment of liminality, anything is possible.

August is the maelstrom. This shouldn't really come as a surprise but I guess that some people have their heads really far inside the sands. The storm never ended, we just got a brief reprieve. I hope that you all took good advantage of it - I know that I did.

For the rest of the month, all of our personal planets will be making complicated aspects to our outer planets - this is because of the angles. It's definitely echoing the roller coaster vibe of 2021's "5" energy - you'll see that continue next month as September is a 5 month in a 5 year.

Expect epic highs and abysmal lows. Probably to have your stomach drop out from under you at least once. There's a lot going on, try to harness Mars in Virgo's ability to roll with it and worry about figuring out the details later. Mars in Virgo is very in line with August's 4 energy: make a list but keep it open-ended, show up and do the work. Amanda of Wise Skies Advice called this month "Focus Pocus" and I'm in agreement there - what you focus on grows.

There's a lot of magic to be found in August, but you need to keep your focus. If you get wrapped up in your emotions, or worse, the rising collective fear, it will be easy to lose your way. Don't feed the monster. This is especially true for empaths and other highly sensitive persons.

Dates to Pay Attention To

8/1: Sun conjunct Mercury in Leo, Mercury opposed Saturn - thoughts will be very close to the surface and potentially heavy. Watch out for the stories you tell yourself, especially about Saturnian topics: government, contracts, money, marriage - this will be in effect all through the first week of August and through the new moon

8/2: Sun opposed Saturn, Moon square Mars - this is likely to be a frustrating day. Where do you need to slow down? Where have you been pushing in a direction that is only resistance?

8/3: Venus trine Uranus, Moon square Venus - the anecdote to this malaise is to try something new

8/6: Sun square Uranus - watch out. Lie low. Stay away with explosives - observe that physically as well as metaphorically. Where is your ego getting in the way of what you need?

8/8: New Moon at 16 Leo conjunct Mercury - Depending on how comfortable you are with Mercury energy, this moon may feel enlightening or anxiety-making. Practice good self-care - soothe your system with calming crystals or nervine tea if you need to.

8/9: Venus opposed Neptune retrograde: that lie may come due today - watch out for dishonesty, especially with yourself

8/10: Mercury opposed Jupiter retrograde: What is your inner truth? What do you believe? Does it align with what you know now? What needs to be re-evaluated? Again, how you perceive this will likely have a lot to do with your relationship with Mercury.

8/11: Mercury enters Virgo, Venus trine Pluto retrograde - Mercury is at home in Virgo - expect communication to become more orderly and precise over the next three weeks. The Divine Feminine may be experiencing a rebirth at this time.

8/14: Moon in Scorpio square Saturn retrograde in Aquarius - this lights up that Saturn-Uranus square...again. Watch out, friction is likely to be high.

8/16: Venus enters Libra, Moon square Mercury, Moon square Mars - Venus is at home in the sign of Libra, expect some of our focus to be on our relationships (of all kinds) during this transit. The energy of the day will likely be volatile and moody. Both your words and your actions may be misunderstood at this time - exercise caution.

8/17 Sun in Leo trine Moon in Sag, Moon square Neptune retrograde - a lovely fire trine but watch out for illusions - all that glitters may not be gold

8/18: Mercury conjunct Mars in Virgo - work for it. Keep putting one foot in front of the other. Slow and steady wins this race.

8/19: Sun opposed Jupiter retrograde, Uranus retrograde at 14 Taurus, Moon conjunct Pluto - The energy is likely to feel at once larger than life and impossibly deep. Whether you enjoy this will have a lot to do with your personality and comfort levels. It's always wise to go slow when a major planet like Uranus retrograde but Sun opposed Jupiter may not let us do that.

8/20: Mercury trine Uranus, Moon trine Venus, Moon conjunct Saturn - you might get flashes of insight at this time but it is unlikely that you will be able to implement them just yet. Hold tight. This day also lights up our Saturn-Uranus square - stay aware and cautious. Avoid arguments.

8/22: Full Moon at 29 Aquarius, Mars trine Uranus, Sun enters Virgo - this is wildcard energy, engage with care. This again activates our Saturn-Uranus square - stay aware and stay cautious.

8/23: Venus trine Saturn retrograde, Moon opposed Mars, Moon conjunct Neptune retrograde- emotions, especially around close relationships, are likely close to the surface. You may not have all of the information or may be lying to yourself.

8/24: Mercury opposed Neptune retrograde: another big reveal - watch the news, listen carefully to what the people in your life are saying

8/25: Moon in Aries opposed Venus in Libra - moooooody. Remember great things happen when you stop being a moody cow. Give your others a break.

8/26: Mercury trine Pluto retrograde, Venus in Libra opposed Chiron retrograde in Aries - the new message is one of independence and accountability, do you hear it yet? What part of you needs to be reborn to get you on track?

8/27: Moon conjunct Uranus, Moon square Saturn: the moon activates our square again today - same old - be cautious - this is happening 4x every month right now, it's not "new news" just something to stay aware of

8/29: Mercury enters Libra: this isn't a great placement for Mercury. The idea of giving two sides equal air time without account for its truthfulness is a failing of Mercury in Libra thinking. Watch out for overthinking and analysis paralysis.

Do you like my work? Please consider supporting my writing by Buying Me A KoFi.

[hotchseyebrows]

thoughtfulness in little things

a derek morgan x penelope garcia fic

a/n: can you believe that is my first ever full length morcia fic? me? resident morcia nut? wow. what a world. anyway!! i hope yall like this (and if you noticed it was already on ao3 earlier today shhh this is a scheduled tumblr post im Sleeping rn) and hopefully i dont take 4 months in between posting fics again, but i make no promises!!! my brain is Evil

thank you @blkantigone for being my beta and thank you @derekmorqan for letting me barf 1k of this in our dms a while back, i love you both sm

they do kiss a fair bit in this (it is, in fact, a first kiss fic) and its a little steamy, but by no means explicit and is rated teens and up on ao3 :)

read it here on ao3!!

Penelope splutters. “Sugar, you don’t have to stay here with me, it’s really not that big of a deal.”

He shrugs. “How am I supposed to party when my best girl is stuck at work?”

-

Everything changes during a late night in Penelope's batcave. But really, nothing changes at all.

word count: 3000

Friday nights without a case are a rare treasure for SSA Hotchner’s highly sought after team of profilers. Normally, Derek and Penelope would be taking advantage of the freedom by dancing all night, but sometimes the universe has other plans. 

Penelope used this week’s case-free time to put the finishing touches on an antivirus and security software of her own creation. The personal information of her beloved BAU babies was a hot commodity well worth the additional protection, and she’s always looking for a reason to fiddle with Quantico’s servers. It ended up being a whole production, taking the entire afternoon and then some. Apparently, she still doesn’t have all of the permissions required to make certain adjustments which means that she’s fiddling and bending her way into all of the things she needs to do. If that wasn’t bad enough, the whole damn thing crashed around 4:00. She managed not to pull her hair out, but it was a close thing and it set her back at least an extra hour.

Derek stops by a little after 5, his jacket slung over his shoulder. “Baby girl, I can hear the bottles of DC’s finest vodka and Hennessy calling our names, are you almost ready to leave for the day?” He pauses in the door, taking in her furious typing and furrowed brow. “Whoa, Mama, what’s the matter? You’ve got Hotch’s eyebrows.”

She throws her arms up. “The entirety of the FBI and also the world is getting on my nerves!” He walks over to her, leaning on the side of her chair and turning her away from her monitor. His hands gently grab both of hers and he rubs a soothing circle with one of his thumbs. 

“Explain, baby girl.” 

She does, eventually just ranting and raving about how annoying it is to still be put in metaphorical handcuffs by the FBI as if she can’t just do what she wants anyway. “I’m not even breaking any rules, technically, they’re just making things annoying and long winded.” She sighs, moving her hands to interlock their fingers. “But now that it’s started, it would be doubly annoying to stop it and come back later. So I’m stuck here until it’s done, which might take a while.”

He nods, thinking. Then he straightens up, grabs the extra rolling chair, and sits down. 

Penelope splutters. “Sugar, you don’t have to stay here with me, it’s really not that big of a deal.”

He shrugs. “How am I supposed to party when my best girl is stuck at work?” She blushes, turning away to hide it on instinct. 

“You cheeseball.” She spins around to lightly push on his arm. He just smiles. 

They sit together for 20 minutes in relative silence as she continues her work. It’s a comfortable silence; his occasional humming soothes her rising annoyance at how needlessly long this is taking. She can hear him playing with one of the fidget toys she keeps on her desk behind him. When she gets to another point of sitting and waiting, she turns towards him and asks him about his day. He tells her about how Prentiss helped him get Reid back for a prank by distracting him in the break room while he switched out the keyboard of Reid’s computer with an identical one with a grass garden planted inside. “It’s a long con for sure, but I’m hoping it sprouts this weekend.”

She laughs. “How long did it take you to set this up, dumpling?” She already knows the answer, but it’s nice to see his slightly sheepish but proud look about his dedication to his prank war. Her computer beeps at her, and she spins back around to begin working again.

He rolls closer, avoiding her question and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You getting hungry yet?”

She relaxes, leaning against him. As if on cue, her stomach grumbles. “Yes, I’d say so.”

He leans over and moves a strand of hair out of her face. “Okay baby girl, I’ll go grab us food and be right back.” She nods, lifting her cheek on instinct to meet the kiss she knows is coming. He stands and sure enough, leans down to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be quick. Be good.”

“How can I do anything else if you’re not here?” She bats her eyes up at him. 

He grins. “Oh, I’m sure you’d think of something.” He brushes his knuckles against her cheek. It makes her shiver.

She watches him leave, catching the kiss he blows at her from the door. Turning back to focus on her work, it feels like she blinks and he’s back. A glance at the clock tells her it’s been over a half hour. He puts the bag of food onto the table before coming to pull her away from the computer. 

“One minute, I promise, I’m so close to just letting this thing run for a little.” He twirls her hair around his fingers before dropping his hands onto her shoulders, rubbing away the tension. A minute and a half later, she leans back in her chair with a sigh. She tilts her head back and sticks her tongue out at him. He smiles at her. 

"Come eat, baby girl. Don't think you're getting out of eating my hard won dinner." He moves to the table and pulls out her chair. She follows and sits.

"Hard won — mon cher, you didn't tackle a wild animal and lug it home to our log cabin in the woods, you drove your car 20 minutes."

He kisses her temple, handing her a pair of chopsticks. "Yeah, but I would lug home whatever you needed anytime, so the sentiment is the same."

She smiles and knocks their feet together under the table lightly. He moves his chair, so they are sitting right next to each other on the same side of the table. The heat from his arm is palpable.

Derek grabs a box from the bag and splits the vegan pad thai within onto two paper plates. He opens the box of spring rolls and places it in between them while she places napkins in front of them both. He pops the cap off of her bottle of lemonade without her asking, and sets that in front of her too. “Thank you, handsome.” He smiles in response. They start eating and the comfortable silence returns. 

She talks him through what she still needs to do to fix everything in between bites, even though she knows he doesn't really understand her technobabble. But Penelope can feel his eyes on her, and without looking, she somehow knows that something has shifted in the air around them.

"What?" she asks, turning her attention away from gesturing at her computer with the chopsticks. "Do I have something on my face?"

He chuckles. "Actually, yes, c'mere." He brushes away a stray spot of sauce on the corner of her lips with a gentle swipe of his thumb. The rest of his hand stills on her cheek. She shivers. She can see him notice it, his attention focusing in on her. Penelope's blood is thundering in her ears as he glances in between her lips and her eyes.

She leans purposefully into his hand. His thumb brushes over her lips again and her mouth falls open a little. 

"Penelope, I-" he cuts himself off with a hard swallow. "Penelope." His eyes flicker down to her lips and back up to her eyes quickly again.

She can only blink at him for a moment. "Yes, Derek?"

"I don't kn- um. Can I-" She's never seen him flustered and unsure like this. But they've never been out of sync before and they aren't about to start now, so she nods, bringing up a hand to rest on his. A smile grows on his face before he starts to lean in. His hand slides along her cheek to more firmly grip her face- it makes her gasp.

He pauses, thinking something is wrong. "Penelope, are y-" Her heart swells at how careful he is to take care of her always, and she meets him in the middle, pressing their lips together in a soft, purposeful kiss.

For a moment, all is still. The world boils down to just the place where their lips are touching. Their lips barely brush against one another, but already Penelope feels light headed. Derek separates their lips for a moment before kissing her again, a firmer touch this time. She sucks in a breath through her nose. His lips are incredibly kind- that’s the only word for it. He doesn’t seem to know the word “take” right now because all she can feel from him is “give.” As he presses into the kiss and gently cups the side of her face, her brain wildly spins through thoughts about how of course he’s like this even when kissing her and how good he smells and how she can’t believe they haven’t done this sooner.

He draws her closer against him, pressing into the kiss more insistently before bringing his other hand up to her face and holding her. His fingers move to cup the sides of her neck and she tilts her head to the left a touch, letting her mouth fall open in a sigh. He makes a soft noise before tentatively sliding their tongues together. A full body shiver runs down her spine and through her limbs. Another small noise falls from the back of his throat. Her stomach swoops like they've just dropped down the side of a huge arch in a roller coaster. She places both hands on his chest, pressing forward. He moves with her, chair squeaking underneath him as he presses closer, one arm snaking around her back. Penelope’s heart pounds even louder. His tongue is gentle even in its insistence as their kiss turns slightly desperate. 

It feels like someone has lit a fire underneath Penelope’s chair, warmth washing over her whole body and radiating out from everywhere they touch. One of his hands tangles into her hair as he gently tilts her head back. If she wasn’t sitting her knees would have buckled so long ago, but now she would absolutely be on the floor. It’s no surprise that Derek Morgan is an incredible kisser, but knowing something and knowing something is so different. 

He pulls back, letting their foreheads rest together. Her eyes stay closed, tingles radiating from everywhere his fingers are tenderly holding her face. She tightens her grip on his shirt. He kisses the tip of her nose. "You still with me, baby girl?"

She nods, breathless. She slowly opens her eyes and smiles at him. "Hi." It's the first thing she thinks to say. 

He laughs. "Hey you."

She has so many questions- how long have you wanted to do that, can we do that again right now, can we do so much more right now, right here- but before she can ask any of them, her computer beeps loudly. "Oh!" She jumps at the sudden noise. He drops his hands and leans back, looking far too much like the cat who got the cream. "I should- right, I should deal with that," she says, standing on shaky legs. Heels were never so precarious. Of course, there is no hiding from a profiler.

He grins up at her. "Need some assistance?" His eyes are shining like he's hiding a joke. She scrunches her nose at him, biting back a smile.

"Oh, hush you. I’m perfectly capable of walking 3 feet, thank you very much." Her tenacity is a little undercut from the way her hands are trembling a little as she smooths her skirt, but still. The point remains.

He raises his hands in surrender. "Alright baby girl, go on then."

She walks over to her computer and stays standing to fiddle with the wires behind it before bending over at the keyboard and reading the report on the screen. "It shouldn't be much longer now, it just needs to run the last new anti-virus- what?" He's leaning back in his seat and staring at her, a small smile dancing on his lips.

"What, Mama?" But he knows what, clearly evident from the way he is trying to school his expression into something innocent.

She blushes. "Derek Morgan, I don't know what I'm going to do if you keep looking at me like that."

"Oh, I don't know. I might have some ideas."

She sucks in a sharp inhale through her nose. Playing nonchalant, she turns back to her computer. "Well, I might have to hear your ideas out."

"Yeah?" 

She glances at him out of the corner of her eye and he's grinning.

"Yeah." she says, not trusting what will come out of her mouth if she elaborates (probably something along the lines of “I’d listen to all your ideas, do your ideas include any semblance of forever, if you keep grinning like that I'm gonna lock the door and do something reckless”).

They sit in relative silence, just the sounds of her typing filling the room. When she finishes, she spins her chair around. "Hi," she says again.

"Hi baby," he responds.

Her fingers twist and curl the hem of her skirt. "So, uh, well, that's gonna take at least another 30 minutes to finish running."

He raises one eyebrow. "30 minutes, huh?" 

She nods. "Might be a good time for some of those ideas." 

He stands and walks across the room to her. She takes his offered hand and stands as well. They stay there, inches apart and holding hands as the charged atmosphere around them seems to crackle. In the same breath, they lean in to kiss again. Both of her arms wrap around his neck as he tucks his around her waist. He pulls her against him, fully pressed together as the soft kiss deepens into something heated and desperate.

He bites her bottom lip gently before the kiss turns open mouthed and slick. She arches against him as they slide into a slow rhythm. She feels fluttery, like his arms are the only anchor point in the whole world and if he let her go, she’d simply float away. He tastes like lemonade, sweet and alive. She hums as he tracks his hands in a slow circle at the base of her spine. Her knees really do buckle a little as he attempts to tug her closer, but he holds her steady. She rests a hand on his cheek and grounds herself by using the other to grip the back of his neck. She’s utterly swallowed up by him, his arms and his mouth and just him surrounding her in their own little cocoon. He separates their mouths to kiss across her jaw and down her neck, hands flattening on her back. He places a line of long kisses down to the crook of her neck. She lets out a sigh, letting her head fall to the side to give him more room. He sinks his teeth into the same spot lightly, and she shudders. 

"Derek," she whispers. She can feel his smile against his skin as he kisses the same place again.

They slow to a stop, tucked against each other. He rests his face against her neck and mumbles something against her skin. "Hmm honey?" she says, hand rubbing a circle on the nape of his neck.

"I got us that Talenti ice cream you like," he says, only moving enough to be heard. “Chocolate peanut butter cup, and the color changing spoons are still in the break room.”

"Oh Der, that's so sweet, you didn't have to do all of that." Her heart skips a beat. 

He shrugs, kissing the side of her neck. "I wanted to."

She is half tempted to haul him in for another kiss, but as if on cue, her stomach grumbles. He picks his head up and smiles at her. "Come eat now," he says before giving her another quick peck. 

She lets him pull her to the table, but before they sit, she pulls him in again. He chuckles into the kiss.  "Eat, you menace." He mumbles against her lips. Pulling back, he plants a kiss on the apple of her cheek as he guides her into her seat.

She bites a retort about how she was trying to but he sees it on her face anyway. 

"Later, baby girl. Dinner first."

“Then dessert?” She tilts her head and gives him a flirty smile. 

He runs his thumb along her bottom lip. “All the dessert you want, Penelope.”

Much the same as before, they eat in comfortable silence. Except this time he rests a hand on her thigh, and traces a slow lazy circle with his thumb. The conversation picks back up and turns to unrelated things. Derek muses about possible retaliations from Spencer once he notices his new desk plants as he casually offers her a bite from his plate. She takes it, humming.

Something Penelope did not realize had lost its footing resettles in her chest. Nothing is different, not in any way that would scare her or be a loss. They are just the same as they've always been, but also more. (Though she'd be hard pressed to think of a time when this wasn't the way they were. Maybe things are just being unveiled, not changed.) 

When they finish eating, he goes to get the ice cream and two of the fun spoons from the break room. They split the pint and laugh far too loudly for how late it is. The computer beeps for a final time, software finally fully uploaded and settled. She still has to run tests and double check that everything is working, but that can wait. Derek offers her a bite of ice cream, and if he kisses her again to remove the ice cream from her bottom lip, she can't say she minds.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

(Un)Wanted Part 1

Read on Ao3 

(Un)Wanted Masterlist

A child that sees demons in every dark corner is not a child that is wanted.

A child that cries and freezes and mumbles of terrible things is not a child that is wanted.

A child that jumps and startles and hisses is not a child that is wanted.

Unwanted things are purged from the Earth.

So Virgil runs.

In other words: Virgil is an outcast, ostracized and shunned for how he was born, forced to flee an angry mob only to stumble right into a fae garden. 

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Warnings: Implied/Referenced torture, child abuse, and self-harm, nothing super explicit. Sympathetic Deceit and Remus. Panic attacks, anxiety attacks. 

Word Count: 11,250

He’s running. He’s running, he doesn’t know what from anymore, all he knows is that they’re chasing him, they’re after him, he has to run—

 He tears through the cold forest. It doesn’t matter that he can’t see where he’s going anymore, it doesn’t matter that the branches reach out and tear at his clothes, at his legs, at his arms. The cuts sting in the cold wind as he runs. His feet slap against the ground, too ungainly to dodge the smaller roots but just quick enough to swerve around the bigger ones. He glances over his shoulder. Can’t see them. Can’t see anything. Run. Run. Run. 

 The trees get thicker. The branches no longer whip past his shoulders, they stick. He has to dodge. He has to swerve. He has to hold his arms up in front of him to block the ones he can’t. His arms sting, rending through the thin tunic easily. His lungs ache. His brain races. 

Demon. 

Evil. 

Bad. 

Cursed. 

 The branches disappear and he almost pitches forward, throwing his arms out to catch his balance a few moments later. The second his arms aren’t in front of his face anymore, he winces. Why the fuck is there a massive clearing right here? It’s so goddamn bright, he has to blink at least three times before he can—

 Oh. 

 Oh, no. 

 No, no, no, no, this is bad, this is really bad—

 It’s a fae garden. 

 It’s golden. It’s enchanting. No plants grow that artistically. The colors are just this side of too vibrant, bathed in the gleam coming from he has no idea where. he can hear it faintly in the back of his mind, calling softly, luring him, beckoning him deeper into the garden. 

 No. No, no no, he has to leave, he has to run away, maybe if he runs a different way he can escape both of them but he has to leave now before something catches him and—

 “Oh, and what do we have here?”

 Shit. 

 His eyes widen and he whirls around to see a figure leaning up against a tree with far too much grace, all long limbs and coiled power. He pushes off the tree and saunters closer, the golden lights gleaming and scattering off the scales on one side of his face. 

 Where the fuck did he come from? He glances around. Are there more? There have to be. Where are they?

 “See something interesting, pretty thing?”

 His gaze snaps back to the—when the fuck did he get so close—fae in front of him, his eyes raking over anything and everything to make sure he’s not looking at his face. He doesn’t exactly remember the etiquette when it comes to fae but eye contact is the actual worst. 

 The fae is dressed like he’s stepped out of some time capsule, black bowler, a black cloak wrapped elegantly around his shoulders, a black suit underneath. Golden clasps hold it together over a shock of yellow. And…how many—six arms? 

 He backs away. The fae keeps coming. Too late he realizes he’s walked further into the fae’s trap, now he can’t get out of the garden. Not without going past the fae. 

 A hand, gloved in that rich yellow, comes up, a single finger tilting his chin up to—fuck why is he so close?

 Close enough that he can feel breath on his face. Close enough that he can see each individual scale, placed delicately next to each other. Close enough that he can see one side of the fae’s mouth curving up the side of his face like a snake. Or maybe that’s just the smirk. 

 “As flattered as I am by your staring,” the fae purrs and fuck, that voice, “my eyes are up here, pretty one.”

 He’s never been very good at responding to flirting in a normal way, mainly because most pick-up lines are terrible puns and he will either be too absorbed in the pun-off or the implications of said pun. And, um, he doesn’t…really get flirted with a lot. 

 But this? 

 He’s in way over his head and he knows it’s not just the flirting, it’s not just the teasing smile, it’s not just the low voice, it’s not just the finger that’s just this side of too light under his chin, he knows it’s fae, but he can’t do anything about it. And if he says the wrong thing—

 The predator in front of him smells blood and pounces. 

 “Didn’t they teach you manners,” the snake chides, tapping his nose with the tip of his finger, and he's caught between the audacity of it and how effortlessly he makes him feel tiny, “about how it’s rude to stare? Though I suppose I can’t blame you, not entirely, now can I?”

 The snake’s eyes go wide, the smirk growing fiendish as his insides turn to mush. He locks his knees quickly. He won’t collapse. He won’t. Even if that one finger under his chin is the only thing holding him up. Also what the fuck is he supposed to do with his arms?

 “My, my,” comes that frustrating purr, “are all mortals this warm?”

 The finger slides along his jaw, the touch leaving an electrifying tingle in its wake. He’s frozen, staring at the snake’s mismatched eyes as the gloved hand comes up to stroke a thumb across his flushed cheek, touch burning and soft. 

 “Or, oh, and now this could be very interesting,” and the snake leans closer, his mouth right up against his ear, “I haven't made you flustered, have I, my dear?”

 The ’s’ in ‘flustered’ comes out as a hiss, and fuck that shouldn’t make him turn to jelly but it does. A low chuckle rumbles through the air as the snake pulls back, grinning like the cat that got the—or the snake that—fuck, his brain’s too offline to come up with any metaphors that would work. Simile. Fuck. 

 The snake’s hand comes up under his chin again, the fabric of his gloves making the drag decadent as he lifts his gaze back to his and he can’t help the whine that comes out of his throat. 

 The snake’s grin widens. 

 “Oh, I didn’t enjoy that at all,” he purrs, “let’s see if I can make you do that again.”

 No, no—

 The snake’s fingers hook and trace three little lines up the underside of his chin and he can’t help it. This time he doesn’t just whine, he tilts his chin back further, much to the snake’s delight. 

 “Lovely.”

 He doesn’t even have to touch him this time. He whimpers. 

 “Is that all it takes, sweetie? Just one word?” The snake’s thumb runs along the curve of his jaw again. “Aren’t you precious~”

 The words sink into him like honey, sweet and sticky, trapping him in his touches, in his voice. The snake hisses contentedly, tilting his chin back and forth. He can’t look away. 

 “Precious indeed,” he repeats, the hiss becoming more pronounced, “if not a little…flushed.”

 He burns warmer, the snake’s smile growing, full of sly mischief and sharp fangs. 

 “You look distressed, kitten—“ prey— “are you…nervous?”

 Goddamnit, he’s not gonna collapse into a puddle. He’s not. Every single ounce of his willpower goes into making sure he stays upright. 

 I don’t! Know! What to do! With! My hands!

 “Oh dear,” the snake purrs again, not sounding at all sorry, “have I rendered you speechless?”

 Yes. 

 “You’re the one that stumbled into my garden, lost little lamb,” the snake hums, “how was I supposed to know you would be so easily disarmed?”

 He tilts his head, mismatched eyes shining. “It seems awfully rude to stumble in unannounced and then not explain the reason for the intrusion, does it not?”

 The smoky haze the snake’s words had cast on his mind tightens, the quiet whispering lure of the garden sharpening into a call. The snake’s touch is still light but his voice has an unmistakable edge to it. The snake’s fingers are a blade perched delicately against his neck. He doesn’t know how to keep it from cutting his throat. 

 The snake chuckles. “You’re too easy, my little mouse. I’m only teasing.”

 That doesn’t make it any easier!

 “Are you too tongue-tied to speak, darling?” The snake smiles, the human side of his face softening just the smallest bit. he might be imagining it. He’s probably imagining it. “That’s alright, I have…other ways of figuring out what you want.”

 Wait, what? No, no thank you. Don’t like that. Huh-uh. Nope.

 “Just…look here,” the snake murmurs, cupping his chin properly for the first time, the amount of contact making his head spin. 

 He’s still trying desperately to keep his legs from collapsing and he knows if he even tries to move he will fall into a puddle at the snake’s feet. But that leaves him frozen, helpless in the snake's gaze.

 “That’s it…just look right at me.” The snake’s eyes gleam as he gestures to his face. “Yes…enjoy, sweetie.”

 Stop it, he wants to plead, let me go. he can’t. 

 “Now, then, let’s see what brought you here…”

 He gasps. The snake’s words reach into his head and pull forward memories, emotions, angry words called out in fits of rage. Fear. Angry clattering of swords and torches swung so close the tips of his hair is singed. Knives, daggers, blood—lifting something from the inside of a chest and carrying it over to—

 He gasps. Years of neglect, abuse, being scorned and turned aside, cursed for the scars littering his body, mocked and shamed for them. Years of whispers behind his back, forced smiles, fake faces. Years of always having to look over his shoulder, think twelve steps ahead, always have a backup plan. 

 He gasps. Tendrils curling into his jaw, wiring it shut, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Tendrils winding around his arms, his legs, his fingers. Holding a knife. Rewriting his memory. 

 He sees himself. His true self. Standing with a pair of battered gauntlets encasing his wrists, his hands covered in blood. More blood splattered across his face, across the three long scratches that threaten to take out his eye. More scars twisting across his stomach, black pooling out from where they refuse to close. A blue glow, sickeningly artificial, emerging from his mouth, from his eyes, winding around him, tying him up. It hurts. 

 He blinks. 

 His eyes sting, he’s crying, when did he start crying? Is he crying? He blinks again, watching the snake’s face swim back into view. The shameless flirty smirk is gone, replaced with a softer look. Another moment and something covers his eyes. He can’t help the frightened keen when his world is thrown into darkness. Is the snake gonna take him somewhere? Kill him? Something worse than death? What’s happening?

 “Shh,” the snake murmurs, no longer dripping with allure, “hush now, darling.”

 He shuts his eyes reflexively, the sudden loss of his vision sending him stumbling. Can he grab? Yes? No?

A hand catches his arm. Another his other arm. Another pressed to the space between the shoulder blades. Another curled possessively around his hips. The hand over his eyes stays firmly in place, gentling a little as the other hands press him against the snake, holding him up. His legs won’t work properly, pulled as he is at an awkward angle. 

 “It’s dark because you’re trying too hard,” the snake murmurs, the quote rolling off his tongue, “lightly, child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly.”

 The snake adjusts his grip, pulling him closer. 

 “Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.” Another hand—that’s right, there’s six—cradles the back of his head. “Lightly, lightly—it’s the best advice ever given me.”

 The darkness doesn’t hurt. Doesn’t press. Just lays over his eyes. 

 “So throw away your baggage and go forward. There are quicksands all about you, sucking at your feet, trying to suck you down into fear and self-pity and despair. That’s why you must walk so lightly.” 

 The snake leans closer, his lips almost brushing the shell of his ear. 

 “Lightly, my darling.”

 He shudders as the air wafts over him. The word ‘lightly’ has been said so much it doesn’t sound like a word anymore. 

 “So you can speak,” laughs the snake—shit did he say that out loud?— “and oh, what a wonderful voice you have.”

 Really? Back to flirting already?

 “Oh, come now,” he chuckles, “is it really so simple? Alright, alright, I won’t fluster you too badly.”

 Or you could not fluster me at all we could make that work too. 

 “But you are right,” comes the voice, still right next to his ear, “about saying a word too often before it stops sounding like a word. You mortals tend to do that with yourselves quite a lot, don’t you?”

 The snake must be able to feel his brow furrow. He continues. “You tend to look at something for so long that you start to create flaws out of nothing. You see cracks where there are no cracks, imperfections when you know perfection is a standard you will not reach.”

 Is…is the snake trying to…comfort him?

 “You do that with yourselves,” the snake murmurs, the hand at the back of his head cupping it gently, “and you must look away.”

 Do what now?

 “Look away,” the snake repeats, “look away and give yourself time to breathe, sweetie. The words are still words, you just have to give them time to rest. You are not as flawed as you think you are. You simply must look away for a moment. And don’t forget to breathe.”

 The hand on the back of his head moves, the others leaning him back a little so it can come around and pat his chest. 

 “Breathe,” says the snake. 

 He breathes. 

 “Good.” 

 So he…isn’t going to kill him? Has he not violated some guest rite that allows the snake to exact some fae revenge? Are mortals not too small and too petty to warrant this amount of…effort?

 The flirting…the flirting he kind of gets. He knows he’s shit at receiving compliments, okay, and he knows the way he responded to that flirting was…entertaining. Probably. Yeah, it definitely was. 

 That doesn’t explain this. 

 “I can hear you thinking,” the snake hums, “I can hear your little mind whirring away in there.”

 Shit. 

 “Why don’t you just relax,” he purrs, drawing the word out in a way that has to be deliberate, “and stay right here?”

 And do what? I’m still standing here your six arms with your teeth basically at my throat and you seem to really enjoy making me not able to speak or do anything. 

 He tries. He tries to take another deep breath and let himself relax into the snake’s arms. It’s not easy. 

 “That’s it, good.” The hand on his chest gives him another little pat. “Well, now I could call you any number of things, my darling, now couldn’t I? But I did say I wouldn’t fluster you too badly.”

 He hums for a moment, he can almost feel his gaze through the gloved hand still over his eyes. 

 “May I have your name?”

 Nope. I know that one. 

 He swallows, his throat dry. his lips are dry too. he licks them quickly and clears his throat. “You may call me V.”

 The snake doesn’t seem too bothered by it. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. 

 “Clever boy. Very well, V, why don’t you just take another breath.”

 V breathes. 

 “Have you caught something new for us?”

 V’s breath catches. Fuck. 

 Another one?

 Judging by the approaching footsteps from behind him, yep. He still doesn’t know what the fuck to do with his hands. 

 “What fun,” the voice from behind him says, getting closer, “though from the looks of it…I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

 “No, of course not,” the snake drawls, “nothing of the sort. It’s not like I purposefully knew you were meant to be keeping watch today and sent you somewhere else.”

 They have a schedule? How many of them are there?

 “Well, good!”

 The snake huffs and the other one chuckles. 

 “So…” The voice stops just behind him and judging from how high up it is, he’s even taller than the snake. “What have we here?”

 Don’t fall over, whatever you do, don’t fall. 

 “Don’t be greedy,” the second one chides, another pair of hands resting on his shoulders and wow those are warm, “let me see what you’ve caught.”

 No, no, please, let me stay here, I can deal with the snake—

 No such luck. The snake releases his grip except for the hand over his eyes. 

 “There we go…”

 The warm hands turn V around slowly, one hand walking its fingers playfully over his shoulders as they do, across his collarbones, over the hollow of his neck, to the other shoulder. It’s just light enough to tickle, sending pleasant shivers down his spine. 

 “We’ve talked about this,” the voice keeps scolding playfully, “keeping things all to yourself…oh. Oh, look at this!”

 V knows his face is red, he can feel it. Then those warm fingers flutter up to touch just under his chin and tilt and shit he doesn’t want to do this again. 

 “Why are you covering his eyes? You’re not usually the type to…avoid attention.”

 “It’s not for me.”

 “You, doing something that’s not for yourself? Well, now I have to see. Move your hand.”

 No, please don’t.

 “Keep them closed,” the snake murmurs in his ear before his hand lifts. Even with his eyes closed, the light hurts and he squeezes them tighter. 

 “Oh, how could you?” Hands cup his cheeks. “It is a crime to cover up this absolutely adorable face. Just look at you, pretty thing.”

 Judging by the quiet chuckle from behind him and the delighted silence, they’re amused by his reaction which is definitely not to go even brighter and not to squirm a little against the hold. 

 “Well, well, well, isn’t today a lucky day?” Two fingers tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear, the soft touch drawing the blush right up to the tips. 

 If his eyes weren’t closed already, they sure as hell would be now. Unlike the snake, this fae didn’t seem to be content to restrict the touch to just a finger or the soft brush of a thumb. No, the new hand trails over his face, lingering in spots that make him twitch, where he’s sensitive. his mouth. Just under his bottom lip. The bridge of his nose, right between his eyes. Tracing a lazy path around his jawline, right under his chin. his face burns, each stroke setting his skin alight, until they blur together and he has no idea what’s actually touching him and what’s nothing more than a phantom sensation. 

 And because his eyes are closed, he still can't see anything. So he has no idea where they're going to touch next and he's in a horrible loop of being startled and making noise and then remembering he really doesn't want to move and getting frustrated with himself for moving and making more noise. 

 “Oh, I could stand here for ages,” the voice coos, “just coaxing more of those pretty sounds out of you.”

 “He has a pretty voice, doesn’t he?”

 Not you too!

 “I think he likes your voice,” the fae in front of him chuckles. 

 “I think so too.”

 “Which one does he like more?”

 No, no, let’s not test and find out, he’s barely staying on his feet as it is, he can feel the snake behind him and sure he could probably grab the fae in front of him too but he’s so close to being a puddle already, please—

 “I must say I was surprised to see you being so hands-on with him,” the voice muses, “especially because you know how…fragile little mortals can be, hmm?”

 “Mm.”

 “Shouldn’t fragile things be treated gently?” The warm hand is back under his chin, cupping it in a firm hold, one of his fingers stroking just the smallest amount. 

 “What if I were to talk like this? In a nice, sweet, gentle voice? Hmm? Would you like that, cutie pie?”

 No, no no no, that voice…despite how tightly V tries to stay, tries to clench every muscle he has in defiance, that sweet, soft voice wriggles its way under his skin and he melts. 

 “Aww, yeah,” the voice teases, “yeah, you do, hmm? Nice…and gentle…good…”

 He can’t help it, he whines. He can’t remember the last time he was praised, and he knows it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s just the fae toying with him, but it works and he hates his traitorous body for responding to it. 

 “I think you like this~” the voice coos, “I think you like the gentle voice, don’t you? Sweet voice…just like you, little honeybee.”

 He…he’s leaning closer, there’s breath fanning over his face, over his neck. 

 “Can’t you just give in to me,” he coos, “can’t you just give in, little cutie pie?”

 V’s lips part. His head tilts. Wait, no—

 “That’s right, little honeybee,” and he’s so close, his mouth is so close, so close, “give in…”

 “Enough.”

 Thank you.

 The fae in front of him laughs and drops his hand away. V stifles a sigh of relief, trying frantically to clear his head from whatever the fuck is happening. 

 “Don’t be jealous,” the voice says, “it doesn’t look good on you.”

 “I’m not jealous.”

 “Come now, you’re practically green around the gills over there.”

 “I haven’t gone yet.”

 “You had enough time before I showed up.”

 “And you didn’t see it.” The snake shifts. “You got him to whine, that’s all.”

 “Oh, I got several more than that, didn’t I?” A finger taps his nose and he squeaks, startled. “See?”

 “Oh please.”

 “Like you can do better?”

 No, no no, stop please, I would like to get off this ride. 

 A rustle. Then little puffs of air over his ear. 

 “Darling,” the snake purrs, and fuck, he’s already keening. 

 The snake chuckles darkly. “That really is all it takes, isn’t it, little mouse? Just…one word?”

 He’s too close. He’s too close and that voice like crushed velvet in his ears and he can hear his fucking smirk and oh god—

 “Squee for me, little mouse,” he purrs, “squee.”

 V squees. God fucking damnit he squees. He covers his face as the snake chuckles in his ear, trying to ignore how much it makes him want to squirm away. 

 “Thank you, my dear,” he purrs, a soft rustle signifying him standing back up. V doesn’t need to look to see he’s got a smug, satisfied expression on his face. 

 “Don’t hide,” the voice in front of him laughs, “why don’t you let us see that pretty face?”

 He’s gonna faint. He’s gonna fucking keel over right here because he can’t deal with this. He knew he should’ve fucking bolted the second he realized it was a fae garden. He knew he shouldn’t have let them chase him this way. He—

 “We didn’t break him, did we?”

 “He’s quite flustered, but no, I don’t believe so.”

 “Come on, cutie. Let us see.”

 “Lower your hands, little mouse, come now…”

 He fights down another whine and forces his hands away. The warm hands stipple playfully over his cheeks and fuck, he can’t help relaxing into it, making the voice chuckle again. 

 “Too much?”

 He nods, furiously squeezing his eyes shut. 

 “You’re the stunnable type, hmm? That’s alright. Someone could have told me.”

 “What, me? How could I have possibly known?”

 “Don’t act like you weren’t enjoying playing with him.”

 “Never.”

 “I thought we were taught not to play with our food?”

 Right. How the fuck did I forget that these are fae and the snake has literally been calling me ‘little mouse?’ What the fuck are they gonna do to me, can I run? No, no way, you’re not supposed to run from a predator, not like this, now there’s two of them, fuck, fuck—

 “Why is he still here,” the voice muses, still tracing his cheeks, “not that I’m complaining about the chance to play with this lovely little thing, but you’re not the type to share your food.”

 V’s…he’s kinda wondering the same thing. 

 The snake doesn’t respond. A gloved hand covers his fist. Something worms its way into his palm and forces his hand open. Gloved fingers lace through his. He presses his hand against a broad chest, hard. Holds it there. 

 The chest stutters. Tenses. Then sighs, letting all the breath out in a rush. 

 “Oh…oh, sweetheart…”

 The snake lets his hand go and he’s caught up in a powerful hug, enough to take his breath away. After the teasing, the feather-light barely-there touches, this…this—

 Warm warm warm warm! Solid alive real warm warm tight help trap? Hug? Hug? Warm warm warm too much too much not enough on fire burning don’t let go oh god please—

 “I should’ve known,” the snake murmurs, “that a prince never could resist a damsel in distress.”

 “You had all of your arms wrapped around him when I showed up,” the prince shoots back, “don’t act so superior.”

 It’s too much. It’s too much and it’s not enough and he needs it to go on forever and he needs it to stop. His breath is coming in great whooping gasps and he doesn’t know what to do. 

 The prince releases him, shushing him softly when he whines, already bereft of the warmth. “Don’t fret, sweetheart, I won’t hurt you.” He doesn't go far, wrapping him in a slightly looser embrace that still burns. 

 Something happens. Something happens and it’s too overwhelming for him to figure out what it is at first but then it stays and it keeps happening and is—is he—

 The prince chuckles as he pulls away, his thumb stroking over the spot on his forehead. “Never had a fae kiss before, hmm?”

 “It’s completely fair that you got to kiss him first,” comes the hiss from behind him, “it’s not like I’m the one that found him.”

 “Well maybe you should have done it before I showed up,” the prince says. “May I have your name, cutie pie?”

 Still no. 

 “You may call me V.”

 The prince laughs, unbothered. Then more darkness. V jerks back on reflex, startled by the contact. Honestly, every single time one of them touches him—

 “You look tired,” the prince says kindly, “rest your eyes for a little. Just keep them closed for me.”

 “Wow.”

 “Oh, please. I trust your judgment. And if he’s that easily overwhelmed…then yes, let’s have you keep your eyes closed for now, hmm?”

 “Are you tormenting mortals without me?”

 How many of them are there?

 He hears the prince huff and the arm around his back tightens. “Yeesh. Should’ve known you’d would show up.”

 “You know better,” the new fae says, “you’re supposed to tell me before you give someone else nightmares.”

 “If you would pay attention for two seconds—“

 “Oh what, like you can talk.”

 “Wow, guys, it’s so cool how you never listen to anything he says.”

 “Why are you here?”

 “What did you do to the mortal?”

 “Oh, shut up—“

 “Don’t tell me to shut up!”

 “Why the fuck is it bleeding then?”

 Oh fuck one of the new voices can double itself up and that is a bad noise and it’s too loud, there’s too many people, he doesn’t know where he is, the prince has left, he can’t hear the snake anymore, he can’t hear anything over the voices, so many voices, too many, they’re shouting now, it’s loud, it’s so loud, it hurts, he just wanted to run away why is he here now he should have run he should have run he just wants to go—

 Something’s touching him. Something’s touching him. Something’s prying his hands away from his ears—when did they get there?—with inhuman strength and he wants to go—

 It stops. There’s silence. 

 For a moment’s he’s terrified that he blacked out, or fainted, or something but then he feels smooth hands covering his ears. 

 “Shh,” says a low voice, lower than the snake’s, calmer, “hush now. You’re alright.”

 Is he, though?

 “Breathe, little one,” the voice soothes, “I know it’s loud. The others can get a little…rowdy sometimes. Just breathe. Focus on my voice.”

 He tries, tries to feel the rest of him. His head aches and he brings his hands up on instinct only to freeze. 

 “It’s okay,” the voice says, “you can touch. You won’t hurt me and I won’t let you hurt yourself.”

 The hands stroke over the crown of his head as he covers them with his own. They’re smooth, slightly cooler to the touch than he expected. 

 “I heard your pain when it was pushed through the connection,” the voice says softly, “and I can feel it now. The noise doesn’t help, does it?”

 He shakes his head, trying to lean as much into the touch as he can. It—it’s so hard right now and he knows this isn’t going to be free, nothing ever is with the fae, but he can’t help it, so much has just happened and he’s helplessly confused and he has no idea what’s happening and he just wants to be safe. 

 “I understand,” the voice continues, “shh, now you must listen. You are alright. You are here, standing in a garden. I am holding you. You will not be harmed.”

 He wants to believe it, he does. And he knows that’s how the fae trap people and he doesn’t want to be hurt anymore, but oh god, he wants to believe it so bad.

 “Can you not feel the flowers under you? Can you not smell them? Even with your eyes closed, can you not see the light?”

 He can. He can, but…

 “It’s okay,” the voice murmurs, “it’s okay.”

 The cool touch burns. It still burns, even though these hands aren’t as warm as the prince’s, nor are they as rough as the snake’s gloves. Why does it burn? It—it’s not trying to hurt him, is it? 

 “I’m just blocking out the extra sensory input,” the voice says, “I’m not hurting you. Though…I must say, you are the first touch-starved mortal I’ve seen in a while.”

 T-touch-starved? He’s touch-starved? Is that why everything burns?

 “Shh,” the voice soothes, “it’s okay. This isn’t a bad thing. Well, not in context right now. It is true that mortals, especially humans, rely heavily on physical contact. It is crucial to their health and development, particularly in infancy.”

 V nods, still clutching at the smooth hands over his ears. Why does this have to be so hard?

 The hands hold him firmly, then something touches his forehead. It’s warm and slightly chapped and—

 Is…is this one kissing him too?

 “It’s okay,” the voice murmurs after he kisses him, resting his own forehead against V’s, “everything is okay.”

 For the first time since god he has no idea when, he breathes easy, something finally releasing in his chest. V hangs on to the hands over his ears, letting the low voice wash over him. It’s like something’s reaching into his brain again, like the way the snake did, sorting through everything and tucking it out of the way and it…oh god it feels so clear. 

 “Do you believe me now,” it asks after a while, “about where you are?”

 He swallows, his voice refusing to come out as anything other than a whisper. “I’m trying.”

 “Why don’t you open your eyes, then,” the voice suggests kindly, “and see for yourself?”

 “The others…”

 “Have stopped yelling, if that’s what’s worrying you,” the voice says. 

 Not what he meant, but that’s good, right? 

 “Here,” the voice murmurs, moving his hands a little bit away from his ears, “see?”

 The ambient sounds of the garden. No yelling. 

 “Nice and quiet. I would hope,” the voice continues, raising a little, “that they would realize why that would not have been ideal.”

 “Be gentle, Specs,” the prince barks. 

 “I am not hurting him,” the voice assures, “although this next part might.”

And in an instant, V’s head fills again. 

Danger danger run run hurt it’s going to hurt they’re going to hurt me, oh god, I knew I should’ve run, no, no, no more please, not anymore, red fire knives sharp things burning.

“Hey, hey, it’s quite alright…” Something touches his forehead—another kiss?—and suddenly he can breathe again. “That was not my intention.”

 Specs, he guesses, doesn’t try and move again, letting him move his head around a bit to hear where he is. 

“Better?” V nods. “Good. You’re doing very well. May I touch your arms, please?”

 The first time one of them has asked before touching him. He nods, warily lifting his arms. 

 “Are these just from branches,” Specs asks, trailing a finger lightly over the—right, the cuts on his arms, “or did someone do these?”

 Nope. Nope. Bad things. So many bad things, no no no no—

 He shakes his head. “Just branches.”

 “Mm.” The light gets brighter behind his lids and he winces. “It’ll be over in a second, have patience.”

 His arms tingle, his skin itching as it gets warm, warmer, warmer, wait…

 Is Specs healing him?

 “It’s a good thing you didn’t try and take a dagger to the branches,” Specs says, “that could’ve been…bad for you.”

 “Better to be hacked at by a few branches than for their poisonous fumes to be unleashed upon you as soon as you slice open their limbs,” the other new voice says, the nightmare voice, right behind him, making him jump, “providing a slow, painful demise…as you choke on your own breath…”

 Specs sighs. “Yes, that is accurate. I am almost finished, one moment…there.”

 Curious, V runs his fingers over his arms and…yeah. The cuts are all gone. he opens his mouth to say thank-you when—

 Wait. Hang on. he’s not supposed to do that. 

 “…that’s better,” he chooses instead. 

 “Good.” There’s a moment of silence. “Are your eyes alright?”

 “Huh?”

 “It’s just…you haven’t opened them. And you, uh, the prince had them covered when we appeared up.”

 “They didn’t blind you, did they?”

 “No.”

 He really doesn’t want to say the wrong thing right now. He turns his head, trying to figure out where the others are. 

 “They’re just talking,” Specs says, “they won’t shout.”

 “What happened to you,” the other one—how fucking many of them are there, he’s gonna fucking faint at this rate—asks, “there was such exquisite pain in you when Snakey pushed it across…and you’re so tense…you need to loosen up.”

 No. No more flirting. Please, no more. 

 It’s not flirting, not really, but it makes his brain freeze all the same. 

 There are hands, warm hands, as warm as the prince’s, under his shirt, on his back, stroking his bare skin and it’s warm, it’s warm, it’s so so so warm and it feels so good but it burns but it’s too much he can’t think, he can’t hear, he can’t breathe—

 “V?”

 There’s a hand on his face. 

 “V.”

 The hand leaves his face. He whimpers. 

 “Stop it, Duke, he can’t think with you doing that.”

 “But—!”

 “Just for a second.”

 The hands are gone. His brain wakes up and he can’t help the soft desperate sound he makes. Wow, maybe he really is touch-starved. Specs shushes him. 

 “I know, I know, V,” he soothes, “I just need to talk to you for a second. Can you do that for me?”

 These have gotta be the fucking weirdest fae I’ve ever heard of. 

 He nods. 

 “Good. Can you hear me?”

 “Yes.”

 “Can you tell me what happened?”

 “What?”

 “How did you find this place,” Specs asks, his voice still tender and soft,“how did you get here?”

 “I was…” he swallows. “I was…running. They were chasing me.”

 “Why were they chasing you?”

 “Did they hurt you?” the duke growls behind him and he cringes. 

 He’s heard tales of fae anger before, and he expected it when he stumbled into the garden. He expected the fiery temper of an outraged fae. He expected stone-cold mutterings. He expected pretty words and sweetly soured threats as he was cursed for all eternity.

 This rage, this dark, hateful fury makes all of those sound like a child’s tantrum. 

 “Wow,” he distantly hears the prince laugh, “that didn’t take long.”

 “W-what’s happening?”

 “I believe the Duke has gone, as you mortals call it, feral,” Specs says, pulling him forward gently by his elbows, “only happens when he gets into a state of extreme protectiveness. It would be advisable for you to keep your eyes closed, otherwise it is likely looking at him in his current state would blind you/”

 Feral. Blind. Protective. 

 I’m so confused right now I’m not even sure what parts I’m supposed to be confused about and that’s confusing me. 

 How…how did this happen? Why is this happening? he just—he was just trying to escape. And then he stumbled into a fae garden and now—

 Now there’s at least…fuck, what is that now, one, two, three…at least four different fae here, two of them have kissed him, and one of them just went feral because of…why, exactly?

 Fuck, what kind of shit is he going to owe them after this? 

 The fae doesn’t do anything for free. Ever. Nothing comes without a demand for payment and they’ve…god, all of them have comforted him in some regard, he’s pretty sure kisses count for something, and one of them just healed him. 

 Out of the frying pan, into the fire. 

 Voices. They’re talking. They seem to be trying to calm down the duke. Specs…that’s right, Specs has got hold of him. 

 He’s…he’s warm too. They’re all warm. Is…is that because they’re fae or…because he’s touch-starved?

 Wow, you know, the more he says it, the more sense it makes. 

 Something wraps around his waist and yanks him backward, away from Specs. His back collides with something solid and he can’t help the frightened squeak. The grip shifts. 

 Oh. It’s a pair of arms. Is…is it the duke?

 “That,” he hears Specs murmur in front of him, “was adorable.”

 “Told you.”

 The chest behind him rumbles and he can hear something wet, like…like slime or something coming from behind him. He thrums with energy, almost making his teeth chatter. The duke clings to him like he’s going to disappear, or like a child would cling to a stuffed animal if a parent threatened to take it away. Trying frantically to calm his breathing, he keeps his eyes shut tight and tries to pat the iron grip around his waist…reassure it, if he can, ground them both. The arms relax, just the smallest bit, the hands—warm warm warm warm so warm—starting to move. It’s like they’re trying to map out his body as they pull him against him, comforting themselves by saying ‘it’s still here, right here’ through touch. 

 His tunic got rucked up when he was pulled back and the hands are so warm. One of them slips underneath and lands on his stomach and he tenses reflexively. The duke rubs softly. Warm. It’s warm. It’s so warm. The duke rumbles contentedly when he relaxes into his hold. 

 “Yeah, I don’t think he’s gonna let go of him now.”

 “It is highly unlikely.”

 “And you said it would be difficult.”

 “Ensuring the duke does not kill a mortal and keeping one are two different things.”

 Hold on wait what now.

 “Oh come on, you know the hardest one to convince is him.”

 “That’s such a flattering description.”

 “Like it’s not true!”

 Ugh, noise. 

 Wait. What’s that? 

 He jerks his head around only to wince when more light—honestly, he’s so not convinced they’re not actually trying to blind him, he hasn’t been able to open his eyes since the snake covered them—shines right at him. 

 “There you all are! I’m surprised you didn’t call me sooner!”

 “How many of you are there?” he mutters finally, only for the duke to chuckle. 

 “About time you got here,” the prince grumbles somewhere to his right, “I’m surprised you didn’t show up with Worry and Wart.”

 “Speaking of which,” the newest voice says and he can practically see the disapproving expression, “what have we said about trying to claim mortals?”

 The duke tightens his grip on him and growls. “Mine.”

 “Now, kiddo, you know better than that.”

 Okay, Dad has entered the chat. 

 The duke grumbles but lets him go. The sudden disappearance of the thing he’d been leaning against makes him stagger. Rude. 

 “Easy there, kiddo,” the new voice says, catching him, “don’t want you to fall and hurt yourself. What’s happened to your eyes?”

 “Nothing.”

 “Well, then, why don’t you open them, kiddo?”

 Because three of you specifically told me not to. 

 “It’s alright,” Specs says from…somewhere, “you will not be blinded if you look now.”

 “He gets a little…overexcited now and then,” the new voice says, “but it’s okay, kiddo. Come on, open up.”

 He’s still a little worried about the prince and the snake but not enough to outweigh the worry about what actively refusing could cause. Plus, this one kind of seems like a leader, so…

 He opens his eyes and immediately shuts them again, wincing and looking down. 

 “Oh, are you hurt? Did something go wrong?”

 “It’s bright,” he defends, and honestly, it was bright to begin with. Now that he’s had his eyes closed for god knows how long, it’s unbearable. 

 “I can fix that.”

 Well, the prince must do something because it dims. It gets to the point where he doesn’t have to screw up his eyes anymore and he blinks. 

 The garden still glows, but it’s nowhere near as noticeable. he registers the flowers first, still bright and perky. his gaze travels up a pastel blue cloak to a pair of black glasses. Oh. 

 He looks…ordinary. Kind of. He looks just like a human except there’s something just off-center. It’s like…a human but slightly to the left. Yeah? We get it. It’s like the human half of the snake’s face. 

 Actually…do they all have the same face?

 He looks around. Specs, he’s guessing, is the one in the dark blue suit, also wearing glasses. The prince has to be the one in the bright white, the crimson sash across his chest and the pieces of gold gleaming. Next to him stands the snake. He also waves. 

 Behind him must be the duke, then. He, well, he really kind of looks like the prince. Except he’s in black and green. And has a mustache. And like…four tentacles. Okay. Sure. At this point, why the heck not. 

Also, they’re all…really pretty. Like…really pretty. 

So pretty that just the thought of those flirty comments said by those faces are enough to make him blush to the tips of his ears. 

 Why are they all so pretty? This isn’t fair. 

 His attention is drawn back when the one holding him beams. “There you go! I knew you could do it. Can I have your name, kiddo?”

 Third time ain’t gonna be the charm. 

 “You may call me V.”

 He throws back his head and laughs. “Alright, alright, that’s fair. Then you may call me Pat.”

 …sure.

 “Have you met everyone else?”

 We’re putting ‘met’ in big scare quotes, right. 

 He shakes his head hesitantly. Pat pouts, looking around. 

 “You didn’t introduce yourselves?”

 “L,” says Specs. 

 The prince and the duke glance at each other. “Yeah, that’s not really gonna work for us.”

 “What? No, it can!”

 “You may call me the Prince.”

 “Ugh. Fine. I’m the Duke.”

 Nailed it. 

 Pat looks expectantly at the snake. The snake just smiles. 

 “He likes being secretive,” Pat stage-whispers, “don’t take it personally.”

 “Eh,” the prince says, “he’ll come around.”

 “Oh no,” Pat says quickly, “not you too.”

 “As a matter of fact,” L says, “I’m afraid it’s just you that has not…joined in.”

 Pat looks around to see the duke nodding fiercely. “Now, kiddos, you know the rules. We can’t just take every mortal we find, we have to help them find their way back home. Especially if they’ve done nothing wrong!”

 So…so I haven’t done anything wrong? Does that mean I don’t owe them anything? Does that mean I…I can leave?

 But where would I go?

 He doesn’t want to go back. He doesn’t want to have to run again, away from the swords and the arrows and the hurt, away from all the people that would love nothing more than to put his head on a spike or watch him get pecked apart by birds. They…they hate him, hate everything that he is. 

 And for as much as they’ve all been, the fae, they’ve…

 None of them has hurt him. 

 It’s been so long since someone touched him without the intent to hurt. 

 Hell, one of them did go feral at the thought of someone else trying to hurt him. 

 Would…would it be so bad to stay here? 

 “Oh, come on, you’re the heart! You felt that,” the duke exclaims, “you know we can’t just—”

 “It’s not our job to interfere!”

 “On the contrary. We have indeed ‘interfered,’ as you put it on multiple occasions of a similar kind.” L gestures to him. “This one should be treated similarly.”

 “Ha, see?” The prince smacks L’s shoulder. “Even L agrees.”

 “That doesn’t happen very often,” L mutters. 

 “I, for one, think it’s a splendid idea!”

 “See, Duke does too! And you know how rare it is that we agree on something!”

 “The rules are there for a reason, kiddos,” Pat scolds, “and why are they there?”

 The prince groans. “‘To preserve the balance between their realm and ours and to make sure the two don’t collide,’” he repeats reluctantly. 

 “Exactly!” Pat looks back at him, resting his hands on his shoulders. “This has been a lot for you, hasn’t it, kiddo?”

 Boy howdy, that’s one hell of an understatement. 

 He nods. Pat smiles patiently. 

 “You’ve been through so much, haven’t you,” he murmurs, taking a strand of his hair and twisting it around his finger, “brave little kiddo…it still hurts, doesn’t it?”

 “…yes.”

 “You know what mortals are like, Pat,” the prince mutters, “they’re bad enough with their own kind, and they aren’t evolved enough to know how to deal with difference. You know how wrong that can go.”

 “Do you have someplace to go, kiddo?”

 Does he?

 Would anywhere ever be far enough away?

 Would he even get there?

 The prince sees his hesitation and seizes it. “No, he doesn’t, does he? Why can’t we just keep him? Don’t act like you don’t want to!”

 “We are not keeping him!”

 They’re…they’re fighting. Over him. Over…over whether or not they can keep him. Not whether they want to but…whether they can. 

 Oh. Oh, wow. 

 The prince opens his mouth to respond but—

 Footsteps. He can hear them. Through the trees. He jerks his head around in the direction of the sound. His eyes go wide. No. No, no. Did they find him? How did they find him?

 “Are you sure that little bitch went this way?”

 “I can’t see a damn thing!”

 “Why the fuck didn’t you lock the restraints properly, then this wouldn’t’ve happened!”

 “It’s not like he needs his arms to run!”

 “Then why didn’t you just cut off his leg and call it a day?”

 “Ah! Damn branches, what the hell—“

 “Where the fuck did he get off to?”

 “Told you that monster wasn’t human!”

 “He cursed us, I bet you. He’s probably laughing at us right now.”

 “With any luck, some animal found him and did the job for us.”

 “Hey, what’s that?”

 “What?”

 “Over there, see the light?”

 No, no, no, no, no no no not again—

 He turns and tries to run but runs into Pat, who grabs him tightly. He whimpers, tries to pull away but Pat holds him fast. He looks up at Pat’s face to plead, to—

 —oh. 

 Pat’s gaze is fixed over his shoulder, his face unreadable. He doesn’t move as the mob gets closer and closer. 

 “Hey, hey, stop!”

 “The fuck are you on about?”

 “Don’t you know a fuckin’ fae garden when you see one? I ain’t going in there!”

 “Think he ran through here?”

 “Fae probably caught him. Wonder what the hell those bastards did to him.”

 Pat quirks an eyebrow. 

 “Tore him apart, at least I fuckin’ hope so.”

 “Let’s go back. I ain’t running through there and if we’re lucky the fae got rid of him.”

 “Maybe we should thank them.”

 Loud guffaws trail off into the distance. he breathes a sigh of relief. They’re gone. They’re gone, they’re gone. 

 Pat still hasn’t let him go. He looks up anxiously at Pat’s face to see him clench his jaw. he has to fight the urge to shrink under Pat’s gaze when he looks down. 

 "Did they hurt you?"

 His words are frozen in his throat. The garden is silent.

 "Just nod or shake your head, did they hurt you?"

 When Pat sees him nod, sees how scared he is, something softens. One hand comes up to twist the strand of his hair again. 

 “Change of plans,” he says quietly, “may we keep you, kiddo?”

…h-he can stay? They…they want him?

 The prince whoops as he nods, the duke rushing forward to hug him enthusiastically from behind. Pat giggles, reaching forward to crush both him and the duke in a hug. 

 “Nobody’s gonna touch you again, kiddo,” he murmurs, pressing a—wow, is this, like, a thing? ‘Cause he just kissed his forehead too. Then he frowns and runs a thumb over the spot he kissed. 

 “Seems I’m the last one, hmm?” At his confused look, Pat smiles, holding his hand out. A pastel blue glow appears in his hand. 

 “We all have different colors,” he explains, “as you can…probably guess from looking at us.”

 V nods, still confused as to where this is going. 

 “When one of us makes a claim, it leaves a trace in that color. And you, kiddo,” he says, tapping his nose, “are a rainbow.”

 A…a claim?

 “Even though we didn’t discuss it beforehand…”

 “Pish posh,” the prince says, “he’s staying now. Which means—oh! Oh, we have to get ready!”

 “Oh shit.”

 “How did we miss that?”

 “We gotta go!”

 The duke lets him go with one more squeeze and a smacking kiss on the forehead—okay this must be a thing—grabbing the prince by the arm as they rush toward the other end of the garden. L follows a little more sedately. Pat squeezes his shoulders. 

 “Give us a few minutes, kiddo, then step through the portal.”

 He blinks, still a little taken aback by the sudden whirlwind of energy that just swept through the garden. Pat seems to notice and softens. 

 “This is a lot, I’m sure,” he says quietly, “and it’s okay if you need to take your time, kiddo. But you’re under our protection now. You can come when you’re ready, okay?”

 He nods dumbly. Pat smiles and draws away. As he nears the others, there’s a bright flash of light. So bright he throws his arms up to shield his face. Then it’s gone. When he looks, there’s just a shimmering doorway. 

 “They’re so dramatic, aren’t they?”

 He turns. 

 Right, the snake didn’t go with them. He comes closer, holding out one hand. 

 “Oh, come now,” he laughs when V hesitates, “we have just established we’re keeping you. There’s nothing for you to worry about if you take my hand.”

 He’s got a point, but V would be lying if he said the snake still didn’t make him incredibly nervous. Part of it’s just common sense, part of it is the fact that, out of all of them, he still has absolutely no idea what he wants. 

 Part of it is the fact that he looks like that and sounds like that and seems to really enjoy flustering the hell out of him. 

 “There we go,” the snake murmurs when he says to hell with it and takes his hand, using it to pull him close, “would you believe me if I said I didn’t intend for this to happen?”

 “'Believe me if I said.’ Hmmm. Yeah no.”

 The snake laughs. Like, properly laughs. Throws his head back and has to put a hand to his torso and everything. Oh, oh wow. Of course, it makes him even more attractive. Bastard.

 When he stops, he waves his hand. “Alright, let me rephrase: having the rest of them immediately agree to keep you was not at the forefront of my mind when you first fell into the garden.”

 “Wh-why did that happen?”

 The shake in his voice seems to sober him. The snake laces their fingers together and presses his palm against his chest, as he did with the prince’s. “We are all connected,” he says softly, “at a base level. We can communicate through it if necessary, almost like the telepathy mortals believe in.”

 “So…”

 “When I held your hand against the prince, I pushed.” He pushes his hand a little firmer against his chest, close enough for him to feel the powerful heartbeat beneath. “When the rest of them felt your pain…well. I wasn’t lying when I said they never could resist a damsel in distress.

 “I do wish you hadn’t kept that sharp tongue to yourself for so long,” he muses, “it almost makes me wish I hadn’t flustered you so badly to begin with.”

 A touch of gloved fingers under his chin and oh god, not this again. “Well,” the snake purrs, his eyes gleaming, “almost.”

 V’s able to look at him for all of three seconds before he has to look away, blushing panic mounting. 

 “Is it truly so easy, little mouse?” the snake laughs, “must I simply look at you in a certain way and you’ll fluster?”

 “Enough,” he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut. 

 “You can open your eyes now, darling,” the snake says, still chuckling slightly, “you needn’t worry.”

 “Eye contact is the actual worst and you will not convince me otherwise,” he mutters. 

 He gives him a gentle smile and taps the underside of his chin. “Then I suppose me asking you to keep them closed was a good thing, hmm?”

 There…there’s something else bothering him. V opens his mouth to ask but…it’s kind of an invasive question. And he really doesn’t want to piss him off. Especially not now. 

 “It’s going to be an awfully tiring existence if you can’t work up the courage to ask anything, little mouse,” comes the gentle encouragement.

 “Wh…why did the prince say you were the hardest to convince?”

“Did you happen to catch when the duke called Pat the ‘heart?’” When he nods, he smiles. “Clever boy. It’s an apt description. Each one of us has a…different function. I am the Gatekeeper.”

 Gatekeeper. 

 “It is my job to ensure the barrier between our two races is held,” the snake continues, “to be cautious…about any sort of interaction. As you might have been able to guess, the others are…much more receptive to humans than perhaps they should be. The rules are in place for a reason, and I am the one who helped put them there. This is not the first time they have tried to keep a mortal. And the prince is right, I am the hardest to convince. I have never let them keep a mortal before, not like this, despite whatever claims the others may have made, despite how they try and use those claims to influence me.”

 The snake pulls him closer still, the hand holding his stroking it gently. “But I found you first. And my claim is the strongest.”

 Oh. 

 Oh. 

 “…you wanted to keep me,” he breathes. 

 The snake softens for perhaps the first time since he laid his hand over his eyes. 

 “Why do you look so scared?”

 Really? Are you absolutely fucking serious?

 “I’m not going to hurt you,” he murmurs, still cupping his hand against his chest, “none of us are.”

 “Yes, and I’m sure that one sentence is supposed to counteract the rest of the incredibly overwhelming things I’ve had to deal with today. How incredibly irrational of me to believe otherwise.”

 “There’s that wonderfully sharp tongue again.” He tilts his head. “Perhaps that was the wrong word…you look unsure.”

 V huffs. “Because there’s nothing about this to be unsure of.”

 V knows tearing himself away from him probably comes off as rude. V knows turning his back is probably a bad idea. V knows burying his hands in his hair is going to hurt. 

 V does it anyway. 

 “V—“

 “Why do you want to keep me,” he blurts out before the snake can finish. Ge whirls around to see the snake freeze, reaching for him. “Why?”

 The snake frowns. “Does it matter?”

 “Of course it fucking matters, I don’t know what you want and I can’t—if I don’t know what you want then I can’t do anything and nothing the fae ever does is for free and I don’t know what you want and I—I don’t know how this happened and I just wanted to run away—“

 Oh god, oh god, he’s yelling, fuck fuck fuck he fucked up—

 Why is he on the ground? When did that happen?

 Right. Huddle. Small. Hedgehog. Scary things. Be as small as you can because scary things, why are scary things?

 Fae. Right, he’s yelling at a fae. 

 Oh, fuck he’s yelling at a fae. 

 Small. Just be small. Hide. Just hide and be small. 

 It’s cold. It’s so cold. 

 Then it isn’t. 

 “Shh…shh…there, there, don’t be so afraid, I’m not here to be cruel to you, shh…shh…” 

 “W-wha—“

 “Shh…breathe first,” the snake murmurs, his hand hovering over his shoulder, “I’m not going to touch you until you can breathe properly. Nice and slow, come now…”

 The dark clouds keep rolling, thicker and thicker, building and building until they crash so loudly in his ears. V presses his fists to his ears, hearing voices doubling, tripling, yelling, screaming, they hate you they hate you you’re pathetic you’re cursed they hate you—

 “I’m right here, I won’t let anything hurt you…”

 Lighthing flashes and the voices howl. V whimpers, curling in on himself. 

 “You’re overwhelmed, little mouse, I know…just breathe and then we can figure everything out…”

 Something…something’s covering him. There’s something covering him. He opens his mouth to ask wha—

 “Shh-shh-shh, don’t try to speak just yet, you’re still shaking.”

 The snake…the snake is covering him. The clouds lighten and he…he can breathe again. 

It’s…it’s raining? Is that why his face feels wet?

 “…oh, oh you’re crying, my darling…shh…is it too much?”

 It hurts. He’s so cold. He’s so cold, the snake is so warm. 

 “As I’m sure L would tell you, crying is the mortal response to any situation that’s overwhelming. It’s just you trying to cope with everything, let it out, sweetie, it’s okay…”

 V’s brain comes back online as the snake reaches out to tenderly wipe his cheeks, catching his tears as they fall. He’s looking at his hand, brow furrowed, leaving V to stare helplessly at his face. It’s so much easier without eye contact, so much easier. 

 The snake holds him firmly, crouched as they are on the ground. It…it feels…safe?

 He catches V’s gaze and tilts his head. He…he can’t look away but he’s not…the snake’s not doing whatever it was he was doing before. He just looks…soft. 

 “What is it, darling?”

 “What,” he croaks, “do you want?”

 “You are small,” he says, “broken, hated…lost, abandoned, persecuted.”

 He wipes away another tear. 

 “And you are kind. Hopelessly and relentlessly kind.” He lightly pats his chest. “When I looked to see what you wanted, when you stumbled into the garden, I saw pain. I saw heartbreak. And you…you didn’t want vengeance, no, you just wanted it to stop.”

 He shifts his weight, still holding him firm. 

 “You are lost in darkness and you are so afraid, my darling…so afraid,” he whispers, “you want to be safe, don’t you?”

 he nods. 

 “Is it so hard to believe that I want you safe? So hard to believe—” he catches another tear on his thumb— “that you are wanted?”

 “What use is a broken mortal?”

 “Why must a wanted thing have a use?”

 “What fae makes a useless trade?”

 “What mortal doesn’t accept a free gift?”

 “What fae gives something for free?”

 “What hurt caused this suspicion?”

 V’s mouth clamps shut. The snake stares at him, unblinking, unyielding. 

 “If I weren’t fae,” he says finally, “would you still be this afraid?”

 “…yes.”

 The snake inhales sharply. his eyes widen when he sees a rising tide of terrible fury, there for just a second, just a second, before the snake breathes out and it disappears. 

And that, that split-second of rage, is enough. Enough to reach deep into the anxious mess of his brain and start to say maybe, just maybe, he might actually be safe. If…if the wrath of the fae is between him and the rest of the world, then…then maybe he’s safe. 

 “Perhaps the Duke had the right idea,” the snake murmurs. 

 “Going feral?”

 “Mm.” He cups V’s face in his hands, pushing his fury away and replacing it with that same soft patience from before. “What is it that is making you so afraid?”

 “I…I don’t know you. I’ve never interacted with any of…your kind before, ever. You—when I first showed up, you—“ he swallows— “you seemed to really enjoy making me as uncomfortable as you could. Then there were so many of you and I was freaking out one moment and being calmed the next and now you’re doing something for me and I’ve given you nothing and you’re—“

 Nope. Nope, nope, nope, not saying that out loud. 

 “I’m…what?”

 V shakes his head, pressing his lips together firmly. Fuck, his face is burning again. 

 “Come on,” the snake coaxes, letting him break his grip and look away, “what were you going to say?”

 “…pretty.”

 The snake tilts his chin back up, not saying anything about his eyes being shut again. “A little louder?”

 “Pretty.”

 He braces for the teasing, the flirting, but it doesn’t come. 

 “Look at me, V.”

 “Is that strictly necessary?”

 The snake chuckles. “I must insist.” He smiles kindly when he looks at him. “There…I did say I wouldn’t fluster you too badly.”

 “You said that before you and the prince did…that thing.”

 “Ah, yes, I did, didn’t I?” The snake cups his chin carefully. “I admit, when you came in I wanted to play with you. Toy with you until you told me what you wanted and then…well, send you on your way. But then…then I cast upon you and I couldn’t.

 “I made that claim, this claim, because the garden responded to you. Most mortals can’t stay in the garden for long without being sucked under completely or driven insane. You melded with the magic in the air and it bound itself to you. And when I looked, I saw it. It’s one of the reasons I pushed you into the prince, into the others. They felt it too, I’m sure of it.”

 The snake lifts his hand, faint golden sparks floating around his glove. 

 “Unlike the others, as Gatekeeper, I am tied most directly to the garden. That’s why I’m the hardest to convince. The garden wants you, V. I want you.”

 He leans closer. “Don’t you see?”

 V sees. He brings his hand closer and he starts to glow. As Pat said, he’s got little bits of color shining off of him. Red, deep blue, and light blue glow from his head, fading into a rich green the lower he looks. And the whole thing is bathed in a rich, deep gold. 

 “And for the record?” The snake leans forward, kissing his cheek, burning soft. “You’re pretty too.”

 Shit. 

 “Oh, come on,” the snake laughs, “I wasn’t even trying that time.”

 “I’m just really bad at receiving compliments, okay?”

 “You are adorable.”

 “Hey!”

 “You are, sweetie, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about, just accept it.” He chucks him lightly under the chin. “I imagine not many people have complimented you, have they?”

 “No.”

 “Well, I would prepare yourself. The others certainly will, as you may have guessed.”

 Right, he’s staying here. With them. They’re…they’re going to look after him. They’re going to keep him. 

 He’s safe. 

 He looks up to see the snake looking fondly at him. 

 “If I compliment your smile, will that make you stop?”

 “Probably.”

 “Then I won’t.”

 He swallows. This is a bad idea. This is such a bad idea. “…thank you.”

 “Oh, I’ll compliment you on other things.”

 “No…thank you.”

 His grin widens. “You’re welcome, V.”

 Well, I’ve broken the glass, I might as well push the button. 

 He licks his lips. “Virgil.”

 The snake tilts his head, his brow furrowed. “What?”

 Staring at him, determined to keep eye contact, he steels himself. “Virgil.”

 The snake looks confused a moment longer before realization dawns and a smirk crawls over his face. But it’s not the shameless flirty one, nor is it dangerous and full of fury. It’s…it’s the smirk you’d make if you were a little unsure about what was happening. 

 “Careful, darling,” he murmurs, “don’t you know how dangerous it is to give your name to a fae?”

 “You’re already keeping me,” he says, “aren’t you?”

 The smirk turns into a warm smile. “Yes. Yes, we are, Virgil.”

 Oh, oh yep. Yep, that was definitely a bad idea because him saying his name in that voice…

 Judging by the change in his eyes, he’s realized it too. 

 “And here you are,” he purrs, adjusting his grip, “all wrapped up in my arms.”

 He whines. “What happened to not flustering me too badly?”

 “I can’t help it, Virgil, you’re simply too easy, my darling,” the snake chuckles, “but I’ll stop. Just for now. Wouldn’t do to have you getting too overwhelmed, now, would it?”

 “After all,” he says, gentling his tone and pulling him into a proper cuddle, “we’ve got all of eternity, don’t we?”

 He’s warm. He’s so warm. There are hands on his head, around his back, around his waist, he smells of spice and pine. There’s a mouth next to his ear. 

 “J.”

 “Hmm?”

 He tilts his head up to look at him. “J.”

 Oh. 

 Oh. 

 “…thank you, J.”

 “You’re welcome, Virgil.”

[itsclydebitches]

The thing that feels disingenuous about Miles answer about Ironwood is that he was part of the writing staff that framed the general as a cool character to start with. I do think that the signs about Ironwood's evil were clear since V2 and in V7 he was an outright dictator from episode 1. Nonetheless, he was still consistently framed as a cool character, someone you can trust and rely. You don't get to blame the fans for liking a genocide if you was the one framed him as cool in the first place.

I actually don’t think being cool is the problem. If we’re satirizing and/or making a  statement about the toxic masculinity that leads to something like a dictatorship, then being “cool” is a crucial part of that. People don’t leverage the power they have by looking lame, they do so by appearing desirable, enviable, awesome. Being in the military is supposedly “cool.” Being a white guy with a giant gun is supposedly “cool.” Having power over an entire nation is supposedly “cool,” etc. If you only make such characters look revolting  — even when they are  — then you miss one of the main recruitment tools for this kind of rhetoric. Any version of Ironwood that’s meant to make a point about the dangers of following someone like him needs to make him look “cool” and then deconstruct that, pointing out the ways in which this cool veneer is a lie meant to pull you in. To do otherwise is to claim that evil people are always easy to spot. Making your villains “uncool” implies that the people who do appear cool in real life must be fine then. That good looking, charismatic leader is great. Why would I look critically at his actions? He’s too cool to be evil. 

My personal problem is not that “They made the dictator look cool and we can’t possibly expect the audience to tell the difference between someone who is truly good and someone who is just using various Cool Points to skate by” because that would be the point of such a character  — the work the show needs to do. My problem is that RWBY didn’t do that work. At least, not to the extent they needed to. Rather than making Ironwood a truly heinous character (prior to Volume 7 ‘s shooting, I mean) and allowing the audience to learn how appearing cool can’t hide that, they just made him good person. Straight up. Flawed, absolutely, but no worse than any of the other character on screen, particularly post Volume 6 when our heroes are frequently putting people in danger, seizing power, telling lies, keeping secrets, and generally acting in the ways we’re supposedly meant to condemn Ironwood for. Since talk of Miles’ vid last night I’ve seen three separate “Ironwood was always bad, idk how people can miss the signs” posts and those people are half right. There 100% were signs we were meant to pick up on. The problem is RWBY then went and deconstructed those signs. Ironwood didn’t just bring an army to a peace festival, he brought an army to an event he had good reason to believe wasn’t peaceful  — and he was right. Ironwood didn’t wrest control from Ozpin (using a series of checks and balances that exist for this very purpose...) because he has an obsession with being in control, he did so because he honestly believed Ozpin was putting people in danger  — and he was right. Ironwood didn’t step up post-Fall because he arrogantly believes he’s the only one capable of saving Remnant, he did so because he’s actually the most qualified: a fully trained huntsmen leading an Academy (like Ozpin) with an army and knowledge of this secret war. What, was Ironwood supposed to read the script and wait for the group of dropout teenagers to arrive and save the world instead? To say nothing of how his power and responsibility are framed as sacrifices, not something he sought out. Ironwood doesn’t want to be the sole ruler here. His desperate relief at having allies again proves it. Good setup for the rise of a dictator would have been Ironwood being cagey with his information and exerting control over the group... not telling them everything, not giving them more power, not letting them keep the Lamp, not taking arrest off the table so as to keep them in line, and generally doing the opposite of everything he did do to share that responsibility and power. RWBY got very good at giving us the first half of these red flags  — he has an army, he’s stubborn, he’s hurting Mantle, etc.  — but then time and time again introduced a context that changed that flag dramatically: they are fighting literal monsters, he’s no more stubborn than our title character, hurting Mantle is a consequence of a plan he thinks will help the whole world and our heroes back this. Those who insist that Ironwood was 100% a villain in the making (or a villain already) prior to shooting Oscar are working from their assumption of what his archetype represents, not what RT actually put on screen. Because RT is just really bad at writing a dictator character. They didn’t have the skill to manage someone who only appeared good on the surface, let alone a character with the complex nuance of wielding “coolness” to their advantage, which is why in Volume 8 they had to resort to cartoon villainy with literal, evil spotlights. It’s not that the audience is too dumb to pick up on those red flags, it’s that RT couldn’t manage to plant them without continually introducing valid justifications. You can’t say, “Bringing an army is a bad thing. Look at this dictator coding!” without me going, “Yeah, except in the fictional world you created an army does not represent the problems it does in our real life societies. This isn’t a guy amassing soldiers to go after oil, he’s trying to protect people from monsters. Not even metaphoric monsters acting as stand-ins for a minority group. Literal, evil monsters!” RWBY ignores its own context and a good chunk of the fandom ignored it too. 

The problem with that (besides the general frustration of someone ignoring parts of canon to forward a particular reading) is that the fandom’s go-to claim is that everything is meaningful  — and it’s a reading the writers very much support. Fans do not, as the above attests, push for a simple reading of, “Don’t think too hard about it. Just take the surface reading and run with it” which, while still frustrating, would have at least been a valid stance. Rather, they insist very strongly that nuance and depth are what drive the show. From the song lyrics to a tiny detail in the opening, everything is important and if you don’t accept that then you can’t appreciate RWBY’s complexity. 

“Okay,” I said. “Then in that case Ironwood coming around to Ozpin’s position is meaningful too? Glynda  — one of our best and most faultless characters  — supporting him is meaningful? Flipping his gun, defending Weiss, Qrow writing to him, the group working with him for months on end... all of it is meaningful to his characterization? You said so yourself.” 

“No, no, no,” comes the reply. “He’s just bad. But he’s also nuanced. He’s tricked you into thinking he’s a good person by acting kind sometimes, by getting support sometimes, but none of that is true. His actions are what matter and his actions are simplistically bad.” 

“Ohhhh. So then does that mean this story is really about the creation of a villain?” 

“Huh?” 

“Well, Ruby. She’s ‘nuanced’ in the same way. She acts kind sometimes and gets support, but her actions are terrible. She endangered an entire city because she couldn’t wait to see if Ironwood got his letter. She condemned Ozpin for keeping secrets about Salem and then kept those same secrets just two days later. When the kingdom was under attack she sat around drinking tea, crying on a staircase, just hoping someone would come fix things for her  — all while actively sabotaging the one person who was trying to save people, even if that action seems silly to us (let’s fly really high). So if we’re looking at the impact of someone’s actions outside of their intent, as we just did with Ironwood, then she’s a bad guy too, yeah?” 

“No! She’s the hero!” 

“... these characters don’t know she’s the hero from a meta perspective. If we’re supposed to judge the meaning of RWBY based on these details — ” 

“But it’s not just the details. It’s also the allusions. Everyone in RWBY is based on another person or character. It’s very complex and that inspiration drives their story, so if you don’t have that information it’s no surprise you’re confused. For example, this is why Penny had to get a human body. That’s what happened to Pinocchio!” 

“Oh! So then Ironwood is destined to be a good guy!” 

“What?” 

“Well, you just said the allusions drive their stories, right? The whole point of the Tin Man is that he always had a heart and just needed to realize that. So clearly — “ 

“No! He’s supposed to be a classic dictator, he’s only bad!” 

And ‘round and ‘round we go. RWBY’s writing is atrocious yet the fandom pushes this narrative that it’s all a complex, multi-layered story that requires taking every part into account to understand the “real” message... but when you try to do that with certain characters like Ozpin and Ironwood it’s, “No, actually, they’re just simple archetypes of Bad Men.” Nuance exists for the bees, but not other ships. It exists for the characters fans like, but not the ones they don’t. And RWBY’s inspirations have to predict the ending for this character... but not that other character. It’s a nonsense grab bag! 

Fans are right that Ironwood had a lot of red flags to set up this downfall. Fans are also right that those red flags were severely undercut, thus reversing their impact. Fans are right that Ironwood becomes a 100% bad guy who kills because he can and threatens to bomb a city. Fans are also right that this characterization feels absurd for Ironwood, both in terms of his morality and his intelligence (how does bombing Mantle help you now??) Ironwood is badly written. He was badly written in 7 and 8, if he was always meant to be a dictator in the making then he was badly written in 2-6, and he’s conclusively badly written when it comes to lacking a backstory and a canonical semblance  — two things are are supposedly driving all of this characterization. That’s the answer: not that he’s good, or bad, but that RWBY can’t write a consistent character, let alone a nuanced one, so it’s no surprise the fandom can’t decide on anything. What’s there to decide on? It’s that nonsense grab bag. In a different show I think making the dictator appear cool would be a crucial bit of commentary, but RWBY doesn’t have the skill to pull that off.