#I mean I possibly do sound dismissive I am very brute in my talking but I really can't be bothered

[tonya-the-chicken]

I’m not going to change your views but it does feel a bit dismissive when you say it wasn’t that bad because he had rich parents who neglected him but hey they got a maid for him and he probably wasn’t outcasted or bullied so hey it’s not that bad right 🤷‍♀️! I don’t know he definitely didn’t have the worse out of the villains but I don’t know it felt a bit dismissive is all. Although we need to all remember these are fictional characters so have no idea why the other anon needed to get so aggressive! Also the person in the notes I don’t know how to say it but uh the whole the Todoroki’s had a rich father they didn’t have to work a day in their life take is not a good look. Just because someone has parents with money it doesn’t derail the fact that neglect can cause trauma.

Anyways for the real reason I sent this, you wonder why Dabi is so insane. Well take into account the neglect alongside the fact that he burnt to near death up on that hill alone at the age of what 13? That’s got to be extra traumatising, especially for a child that was already not mentally ok. We also don’t know what his circumstances were like after that fire, like was he homeless? Or picked up by someone nefarious? Kind of like AFO(not him exactly but someone nasty) who maybe fed on his brewing anger and hate instead of positive healing. I’m sure we will find out at some point? I don’t think it was just what happened in the Todoroki household or the fire that broke his mind? There had to be other factors after the fire after his “death”!

[[WARNING!!! I love Dabi as a character but I am not a woobifier so if you are too much into him don't read!!!! No complaints taken, y'all will be blocked for being rude I am too old to deal with people unable to interact with me in good faith (anon it's not for you, you are good and I can't understand your point of view I am just not as good as a person and too old for that shit)]]

I don't think I will change my mind either but I feel like the belief that every trauma is equally bad is just... Simply wrong. Like, we can legit compare this stuff and how badly it affects our brain, what do y'all think psychologists research 🤷‍♀️ Like, your therapist won't tell you this because it's not their job to make you understand you not the centre of the Earth (and it won't help because it is a legit trauma response that is very valid but is annoying you're fucking 25 yo). And to say that, neglectful parenthood is probably the worst parenthood style, as far as I know XD I wrote coursework about this (neglectful bitches are having a lot of need to make us the biggest victims (the bitches is me))... It also feels really American to me? Like, are we going to pretend people who got to live in a nice house and were neglect somehow got it as bad as people living in poverty or warzones? Hello? Imagine telling some orphan "I know you have no parents but actually, my trauma of my father not spending enough time with me is just as severe as yours". Bruh couldn't be me sorry... Like, even taking into account the fact that we can have weaker or stronger nervous systems or be more prone to depressive episodes *looks in the mirror and cries* I simply wouldn't find the guts to say my trauma is as severe as idk people who had physically abusive parents or no parents at all or who were disowned for being gay

And like **again** I am not saying that neglect is not traumatic I WAS NEGLECTED THIS IS TRAUMATIZING AS FUCK. I just am living in a country at war and with lots of discrimination problems and I like... Can't say I am the biggest victim. Sorry I can't though there were times when I was a lot more bitchy especially before being in therapy so I understand where you are coming from and I know what I am saying won't resonate with everyone (it's ok go on your own healing journey I believe in you) but this doesn't mean it is garbage and won't help me or someone else... I've already talked once about it but as a person, I am very easily irritated and envious and really not your local Jesus and partially my trauma turned me like this so being more humble about my sufferings helps me not be a complete bitch (believe me or not but people with traumas and mental illnesses are often insufferable *looks in the mirror* not me though I am perfect... BUT IT IS OK TO BE INSUFFERABLE OK??? like, bitch, that's normal. That's normal to stink when you are depressed it's ok to be a bitch when you are hurting. Forgive yourself because I forgive you (when you are not being an abusive asshole but if you apologize and explain yourself I will forgive that too)

The reason why I talk about the fact he is rich is that I've got a disease called leftism and I am a person of several marginalized identities and since this fandom LOVES looking at characters like real humans, I looked at Dabi this way. And if Dabi was a real human, I wouldn't sympathize with him one bit. I would fucking hate him for being the biggest entitled asshole who commits crimes for the reason his Daddy didn't give him attention. Bitch, my Dad didn't give me attention either! But somehow I don't kill people! And I don't even have money!!!! But like... I am not denying that neglectful parents are not a problem. It is. But he is overreacting, bro. He needs to humble down and recognize the fact he is a fucking idiot (he is). He has inherently so much more resources to recover and heal himself than I had... Yes, I am just being jealous at this point but honestly. Making an entire country suffer for you is not a good thing and y'all need to stop using trauma and mental illness as an excuse for people. No! Being abusive to people because of neglect is not valid, is overreacting and you had no reason to do that. I am dismissing your trauma because you are exaggerating it to make me sympathize with your asshole behaviour. I won't judge people with different sets of standards as I judge myself

I bet it would be dismissive and bad if I said it in conversation with someone who is currently struggling with mental health and is not a murderer. But guess what! I don't talk with humans and my friends the same way I talk on my Tumblr about fictional characters 🤷‍♀️ Not to mention I don't have rich friends akabsksbxm

I think with Dabi there's this whole thing where we saw him at 14 (poor baby boy) and 24 (a grown-ass boy) and... Like, I am so sorry for 14 years old Touya not receiving the help he needs (bruh so relatable) but I am not gonna act like 24 years old bitch can't get his ass to a psychiatrist (extremely unrelatable and infuriating). We shouldn't apply the same standards to kids and adults. We can talk all day long about how society is bad and how our parents ruined us but at some points, you gotta take your life into your own hands and do something and be an adult. And it's fucking hard when you're born with a shitty brain that was fucked up by your parents even more in a society where no one gives a fuck but I sincerely don't know another way to live. You will feel bad and want to die but you either keep on recovering or keep on getting worse and at this point getting worse is Dabi's *choice* That's how I live, that's my framework and I am, of course, extremely fortunate in a lot of ways but I just don't know how are you supposed to survive without the notion that grown people are responsible for themselves and their mental health. We can't act like adults are babies

But as a character, Dabi is fucking hot ngl. Like, do I sometimes want to murder my entire family, make them suffer AND commit terrorist attacks? We all do. Dabi is the dark fantasy of us neglectful bitches craving some attention. Gotta kill the president and tell everyone that my Dad sucks. Imagine the entire country hearing your Dad sucks? That's the juice, that's the dream. Trauma makes you vicious. I get the sentiment. Imagine all those fuckers who made you feel like shit pissing their pants and crying? Imagine your Mom being afraid of you the way you used to be afraid of her? People do have the desire for some violent justice but like... Think of bullied kids committing school shootings. But instead of a kid, it's a grown man who graduated school and who also have a rich father

Ok too much about irl stuff and philosophy shit. I know my way of talking is kinda brute so just know the way I treat people is different from that I treat fictional characters, in particular, I don't call real-life humans submissive and breedable... And stuff...

Damn Dabi is kinda good to project your hatred of your parents in bruh, I should write a fanfic about that (would be cathartic)

To the plotline, I am also very interested in what the hell happened with him after burning because... How the hell he wasn't found? I kind of DON'T want him to be groomed at this point because I feel like it won't be as cool as him just more naturally evolving into what he became. Like, surely, he is an asshole but consider this: as a villain, he is morally obligated to be an asshole

I feel like someone hiding him and Touya overstating the gruesomeness of his living conditions to the dude so he feels *bad* for him and hides him and feels sympathy and Touya gets attention but also begins to reassure himself in the fact his Dad needs to be punished... Idk it's a lot of mystery but I feel like more suffering won't deliver the point the way I want it... I mean it CAN be handled this way and initially I thought a lot about Dabi being brainwashed a bit or having his memories altered so it seems worse to him or even him being groomed or lied too but nowadays I am not into it. I mean I believe in Horikoshi and that he will handle him well 🛐

I talk a lot so I will summarize

If we judge him as a real human

14 yo Touya - DID NOTHING WRONG IN HIS LIFE PROTECT HIM

24 yo Dabi - go fuck yourself bitch you older than me and act like a child and kill people, I couldn't care less about your trauma rich boy

If you want me to talk as his psychologist

Yeah, it is painful and sad, I understand him so much and surely, his trauma is valid as is his hatred but probably revenge won't bring him what he wants. And what he wants is love and attention. But he gotta make choices that will lead to his healing. He needs to *want* to heal. And we will step by step go to the healing because it is possible. He is loved and he is enough. AND YOU ALL MOTHERFUCKERS WILL HEAL I BELIEVE IN YOU BESTIES

Also his therapist (behind his back)

You won't believe it but my client is the most infantile attention whore I've ever met

But if we talk about him as a character... Very delicious soup

If you talk with your friends

Please, if your friends are being abusive to you or someone else don't even LET them say how their trauma made them this way. No. Nothing allows you to be an abuser. Call them out and stop them and make them talk to the therapist. Like, surely, there are extreme situations like severe mental illnesses or extreme neglect where we should be more forgiving but babying adults won't do you any good and won't make them recover

Yeah, I guess this is what I forgot to say. When I say "it wasn't that bad" what I mean is that I would be more forgiving to people who had it worse. It's more of a personal measure where I can tolerate stuff from people who had particular traumas or from those who suffered greatly (it's not my place to be a bitch here). I can forgive 14 years old or a poor person for stealing stuff but not the 25-year-old man who got no need for money and is not a kleptomaniac. I would be more forgiving to Shigaraki than to Dabi because Shigaraki was groomed a whole lot. Same for Toga, who is not even an adult or Twice who is a poor orphan. But that doesn't mean I would forgive them completely. All of them are shitty people. It's just that they had fewer resources and possibilities to not be what they became while Dabi had more but he acts like he is extremely hurt and the biggest victim which is like... There will be people like this in your life, please, don't make friends with them, they WILL abuse you

I talked a lot damn. It's adhd I can't shut up

[tokoyamisstuff]

Meant To Be - Loki x Fem! Reader

Summary: Much to your displeasure, your parents have promised you away to the God of Mischief of all people.

Tags: Arranged Marriage AU, Light Elf! Reader

Warnings: Aside from Loki hating himself, nothing.

Words: 2878

I Masterlist I

A/N: Some good old-fashioned, ‘redeemed after The Avengers and the other movies didn’t happen’ Loki. Like, really cheesy, self-indulgent 2012 stuff. I just want to ignore all misery that happens in the series okay?

“Ew! Stop it!”

You were eight at the time when you and Loki first met, by means of negotiation between both your parents.

If only you knew that this encounter should be the first impression of what should be your husband in the near future...

Frigga and Odin could only plead for their son to be on his best behavior - but well, it’s the God of Mischief we’re talking about. Must be hard to inherit such a title from your very birth.

Just when you put the little bonquet of flowers he had picked up for you towards your face to admire it, several little spiders emerged from the blossoms.

“You’re no fun.” The raven-haired boy stood a safe distance away from you, arms crossed as his gleeful laughter turned into a broad sulk. "And your ears are weird.”

“I hate you!” you screeched in your childish rage, throwing the flowers to the ground and trampling onto them. “Where’s your brother? Thor is way nicer than you!”

“Well, why don’t you marry him then?!” he mocked to cover up his hurt pride, picking up a handful of dirt and throwing it in your direction. 

“I don’t need any friends anyway...” the little boy whispered to himself, running away from the scene with tears filling the corner of his eyes. 

“I don’t need anyone. I’m way better than all of them!”

Not even Frigga was fast enough to catch up with him, while Odin uttered some fake apologies to your parents, promising them that everything will go as planned.

You on the other hand were running towards your mother, tightly grabbing onto her dress. “He’s mean! I wanna go home!”

As Queen of the Light Elves, your mother was a being full of grace and composure - and you were hoping to one day become such a formidable person as well.

She bowed down to your height, petting your hair as you rubbed the mixture of tears and dirt from your cheeks. Just her bright smile alone would sometimes be enough to make you forget about your worries - but not today.

“My sweet child” she cooed, cradling you in her arms. “One day you’ll understand.”

However, this would be the last time you paid Asgard a visit - at least until now. Because no matter how deeply you wished to never meet him again, the words your mother spoke on that day haunted you all those years:

“For this is your duty as a princess.”

[Present Day - Asgard]

It felt so unreal when you stuck your head outside of the wooden carriage, the wind playing with your hair as your glare wandered over the rainbow bridge you were crossing.

Silence strained the air, your parents unable to do even so much as look into your eyes. Hel, how you wished this was only a dream.

Behind you was a whole company of Light Elves, transporting all of your belongings to what should be your homecountry from now on.

Now there was no way back, that much was sure.

You were supposed to meet your soon-to-be husband on that very same day, one day before your wedding to be precize.

One could only guess why you weren’t allowed to visit Asgard again for all those years, even though you were practically born just for this reason - for this person.

To become Loki’s bride was your involuntary purpose, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be truly free.

Maybe your parents thought the God of Mischief to have a bad influence on their growing daughter, pulling you into his harmless yet dishonorable schemes. Or they simply feared you to refuse marrying said man if you got to know him better, finding out just what kind of person you were promised to.

Not that your parents were pleased either...everyone in the Nine Realms knew the stories.

To Odin, there was no point in hiding the disgrace his adoptive son had brought over Asgard. Not only was he responsible for an attack on Midgard, sacrificing thousands of lives for his own sake, drunken by greed for power.

But all of you were shocked to hear that Loki Odinson - or rather Laufeyson - was never Asgardian to begin with.

A Frost Giant.

Among your kind, they were known to be one of the most terrible abominations in the nine realms, and murderer of countless of your kind - and this should be the father to your future children?

Only thinking about this cruel twist of fate made you want to vomit...

So why did you agree to proceed with the preparations as if nothing had happened? How in Alfheim’s name could you reject their offer to wed you to Thor instead of that lunatic?

Was it that through your upbringing and royal duties, you had lost your own free will? Or simply fear of stepping aside the path that everyone had prepared for you?

It was probably the fact that you didn’t want to get into true love’s way...you and Thor stayed in brief contact through Heimdall, and you just knew how much that human girl meant to him.

You were kinda jealous, though...the concept of being in love was foreign to you, having a vague idea of it from novels only. But real life just wasn’t meant to be that was, was it?

You couldn’t escape your fate, that was what it was - for this treaty would unite both kingdoms, bringing peace and wealth for all of their inhabitants.

No way you could be so selfish as to decline...even if it meant you had to suffer for the rest of your life.

“My Ladyship, we have arrived!” a guard spoke as he knocked on the carriage door, with your parents hinting that you needed to step out first.

The very same guard now yelled from the pit of his lungs, making you feel the whole Kingdom of Asgard could hear. “Now arriving: Lady Y/N Y/L/N, eldest Princess of Alfheim and heir to the throne.”

You heared the people whispering as you took your first, insecure steps, blinded by the bright daylight.

“She’s so pale, like ice” or “Why are her ears like that?” were rather nice comments compared to others plainly calling you ugly, scary or a ‘disgrace’.

Of course your Kingdoms had been in a war for several decades, but this was long in the past - before your very birth, even. So what’s the reason you should bear with such hostility in the place everyone expected you to call ‘home’ from now on?

One thing was clear from the very beginning: You would never belong here.

“May I?” a dark, husky voice interrupted your self-pitying. You blinked heavily, still trying to adjust to all those golden surroundings, until your blurry vision finally cleared up.

“C’mon.” The voice belonged to the man in front of you, looking gravely nervous with sweat dripping from his forehead. He was reaching out a hand for you to take, and you gladly accepted since you didn’t want to embarass yourself further by falling out of the carriage.

And still, you managed to somehow miss a step and fall right into his arms. “Oh my, so clumsy” the man snickered as he catched you, clearing his throat as you grabbed onto his chest to regain balance. "Not very graceful for someone of your status.”

“And you are-” The words got stuck in your throat when you stared back into those eyes, their emerald green awaking memories you’d rather forgotten entirely. “L-Loki!”

“Exactly, my dear. The one and only.” Smooth and calm, he  pecked a kiss on the back of your hand, andyou couldn’t help but admire just how well he had aged: His wild locks were combed back, sharp features complimenting his face as he tried his best to give you his most innocent smile.

Yet you kept your guard up, always expecting him to somehow embarass you just for the fun of it. “When it comes to him, always expect the unexpected” Thor once warned you, and you won’t forget about it that easily.

“It’s a pleasure finally meeting you” was your firm declaration, only to be rewarded with a scoff. “You are speaking to the God of Lies, Lady Y/N - there is no use in trying to deceive me” he whispered into your ear, making you shiver in unpleasant anticipation.

“Carry her belongings to my rooms” he dismissed the servants with a simple gesture of his hand, offering his other arm for you to cling on as he escorted you through the palace.

The giant halls were almost empty, nothing like back on Alfheim where you and your brethren would enjoy each other’s company in midst of nature. A sole tear escaped your eye when you thought back to those carefree days, which are now over.

“Are you alright, m’lady?” Much to your surprise, your fiancé sounded honestly concerned about your well-being. “If you are tired, we can postpone our tour of the palace until you’ve rested.”

 “May I speak from the heart?” You gulped after finishing that sentence, scaring yourself with all the stories you’ve heared about this mad troublemaker.

Somehow you had the feeling that if you were to overstep your boundaries with that brute, it would have consequences beyond your imagination. He might seem generous and polite right this moment, but what would someone like him do if you enrage him? Countless images were circling in your head, one worse than the other.

Loki furrowed his brows, exhalinge deeply. For him, your expression was an open book to what you were thinking right now.

“Y/N, my dear Lady, if you want it or not: Starting tomorrow, we share a bond. I am deeply sorry that a veritable flower as you are had to end up with someone like me, but I promise to treat you as well as possible.”

Turning around so you’d not detect how it hurt him to speak from the heart, he added with a shaky voice “Yet there is no reason for you to hold back your hatred for me. No harm will come your way, I swear upon the little honor I have left.”

Even though his words made you feel a deep sympathy with the god, you weren’t quite sure if you could decipher truth or deceit in them. Maybe he just wanted to lure you into saying what you truly thought of him?

He’s right - you will have to spend the rest of your life with him, so don’t mess this up from the very start!

“I-I don’t hate you!” was the first thing you blurted out, grabbing onto his cloak. Loki turned around, rising his eyebrow as he scanned your face for any hint of a lie.

Althrough it was the truth, at least to a certain extend. You’ve seen each other only once, when you were still little. The rest is all tales and rumours, but you personally don’t have a reason to despise him.

There was no way you could promise to accept his past or heritage, let alone forgive him - yet as long as he’d treat you with respect, you’d return the favour.

“T-There’s just a question on my mind this whole time...aren’t you mad? I-I mean someone like- well...like you...” you gestured around awkardly, almost making him crack a smile. “I mean...I thought you wouldn’t let your parents dictate your life.”

Another deep sigh escaping his mouth, this times with his eyes closed. “This isn’t about Asgard or my adoptive parents. I choose my own path.”

Suddenly, Loki wrapped one arm around you, flicking his fingers with the free one.

“Hold onto me” he ordered indifferent as he casted his spell, teleporting both of you away before you could even comprehend, let alone ask him what he was doing.

It happened in the fraction of a second, yet felt like hovering through an empty space for an eternity.

“Now open your eyes.” You hadn’t even realized that you squeezed them shut during the shift, slowly opening them while Loki lifted your chin with his index finger.

The environment was magnificent. Had you ever seen something this beautiful in your whole life?

Obviously you had no clue where you were, but this was the first time seeing so much untouched nature on Asgard. There were flowers blooming in all colours imagineable, clear rivers crossing the lands in between grassy hills, and animals nearby a small forrest.

“It’s not like I didn’t educate myself about the Light Elves and their way of living” Loki stammered, unconsciously intertwining your fingers with yours as he watched you admiring the view. “So I could make you comfortable here, I mean.”

He plummeted down on the grass, still a little wet from the morning dew, and gestured for you to do the same. It was weird, actually, but also somehow adorable - how the infamous ‘Silver Tongue’ had lost his ability with words. “I’ve done very little right in my life full of wrongs. Hurt a lot of people.”

“Mmmhh” you hummed approvingly, not knowing what else to say - yet for some reason, you didn’t let go off of his hand, squeezing it ever so slightly.

“And even though I can’t possibly redeem myself, I wish to change for the better.” he muttered, rubbing the back of his head. “I just never knew how to start.”

Loki Odinson really was full of surprises. He was nothing like the child you’ve met long ago, and the complete opposite of what you imagined the ‘God of Mischief’ to be.

You had expected a power-hungry, selfish and cruel man to wed you - and yet there he was: Insecure and broken, only a shell of the person he once was.

Just what had you missed all those years? What things happened to break someone’s will like this?

And was he truly beyond repair?

“Those past weeks, I have visited Alfheim more times than you could comprehend” he giggled nervously, avoiding your eyes. “Concealed, of course.”

Well, that sounded kind of weird, but you knew better than to talk someone down who was just opening up to you. So your sole answer was “What for?”

“There was no way a criminal like me would still be seemed fit for this ceremony - and yet I was given this chance anyway. My mother told me that it was you who insisted on carrying on the arrangement, so...I just wanted to know what person would be willingly ruin their life.”

Something different was shining through the god’s orbs, and you couldn’t quite decipher it. Was it hope? Hope, that if you had given him a chance, his life could lead into a different direction? To change himself from the burden that was his birth title?

“I-I guess I don’t want to mess this up like I always do” he whimpered barely audible, before staring at you in shock and embarassment. Until now, he hadn’t realized just how vulnerable he made himself.

Just what the hell would you think about him now? You probably had lost any respect, or thought himself to be crazy. How weak...

So he was quick to put on the confident facade again, wearing his smug grin as if that all was just part of a big joke only he’d understand. But even though you barely knew him, he couldn’t fool you.

“Sometimes it’s enough just to try.” Your head turned from the sight of nature to your fiancé and back several times, before you brought up the courage and put a hand on his shoulder, whispering “So you can’t really mess this up.”

“Gladly you don’t seem to know yet just how much misery I cause.” He kept that thought to himself, to not scare you away.

“I am aware that you could never love someone like me, Y/N. But I can provide for you, dedicate myself to making you content with being my wife. My newfound purpose.”

The purpose of a war criminal - that sure put yourself under a lot of pressure. And still, it made you somewhat proud, and grateful as well. Because it was the first time someone valued you as a person, and not the princess of Alfheim.

Unaware of how much time had passed, both of you would get used to each other’s presence in silence, enjoying the nature while you processed this eventful day.

Exhausted from the long travel and all that rollercoaster of emotion, you soon found yourself dazzling into sleep onto Loki’s shoulder. If only you could see him adore you, staring in awe that someone could actually feel so safe in his presence.

Carefully, the god picked you up, gently lifting you on his arms to make your way back to the palace, where everyone was frantically searching for both of you. Well, Loki was used to trouble -  but right now, it was worth it.

May it be right or wrong, and even though you couldn’t explain this sentiment, you had a good feeling when it came to the things that were just about to come.

“You won’t regret your decision, Y/N Y/L/N. On my side, I assure you a bright future.”

[originofjaehyun]

Interlude: No More Drama | Part 11 | Not Alone

Interlude: No More Drama Masterlist

Word count: 5,432

Warnings: Graphic description of violence, mentions of rape, language

Part 11 | Not Alone

“One step, one step, one step each. Closer, closer, closer to the place that appeared in my dream that looks like me, can you feel not alone?”

Prev • Next

The laughter and the applause in the room are quickly replaced by whispers between each other. They are clearly baffled with the turn of the event, trying to solve the puzzle.

“What is the meaning of this?!” While he still talks in a somewhat calm manner, the way his eyes stutter tell Jaehyun that he is anything but calm.

The officers in uniform reached to where they are standing, each proceeds to hold the arms of Mr. Jeong’s and Kyungmi’s. As expected, at least one of them goes berserk.

“Don’t touch me!” Kyungmi swatted the officer’s hand, refused to be taken away, “Jaehyun, tell them who I am! They don’t have the right to do this!”

“Oh, but they do.” Jaehyun talks calmly. A side of him that you know –when he locked on his prey and he knows the percentage of his success is almost absolute.

“Jeong Jaehyun, you don’t want to do this.” His father warned him, and for the first time that night, he whispered instead of speaking proudly, possibly so that the mic wouldn’t catch his words. “Don’t mess around.”

He took a glance at his father and his so-called fiancée that he never acknowledges. He gave a nod to the officers, cueing them to proceed with the arrest.

Before any of them could make a scene, Jaehyun took the mic again, “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m terribly sorry for the commotion.” He didn’t even bother about the ruckus behind him, “I understand that today was supposed to be a celebration of our new launch, but I’d like to use this opportunity to address a few things, and why it is important to announce it right here, right now.”

His eyes are now directed to your table, where he mainly locks his gaze to yours, “Also, I’d like to apologize to the involved team, especially to Mr. Seo and also Ms. [Y/L/N] as the person in charge of this project. Really, I do regret that I need to steal the star of the show.”

The way he calls you flinches you. Not only does it causes the whole hall to look at your direction, but also it feels extremely strange for Jaehyun to address you that way. It’s foreign, so foreign.

“Objections!” Frustrated that his own flesh and blood did not obey him, you can tell that he starts to lose his composure, “Jaehyun, what are you doing?! You’re clearly not thinking straight. You exposing me means you exposing yourself.”

Jaehyun just stands there, giving his father a disdainful look.

Obviously you can hear a bit of their words from the microphone, but not enough for you to grasp the full picture as the stage was quite far. Everyone seems perplexed and share the same sentiment with you, except for Johnny.

“Johnny,” Noticing that it is very strange for him to be this calm, you called him in hope you could get an answer, “What is going on? Do you know anything?”

Smirk appears at one corner of his lips, “Just wait and see.”

“Mr. Jeong,” Jaehyun said, purposefully talking in front of the mic so that the whole hall could hear him loud and clear. There’s a hint of contempt in the way Jaehyun called his father. 

He no longer addresses him as his own.

“Before you could object to anything, I’d think it would only be fair for our valuable guests to know where I’m coming from.”

“Don’t you dare…!” He tried to threaten Jaehyun, but at the same time he was being careful not to taunt him too much. He didn’t want to lose his pride, even so, there was a trail of fear in his tone.

“Oh, I do, sir,” Jaehyun said, ice cold. “Taeil, would you please.”

“Guards!” His father tried to intercept, calling his own men.

However they never arrived. The imperious man finally lost his presence of mind, looking around, puzzled. On the other hand, the strikingly handsome person who is stationed at the FOH immediately granted Jaehyun’s command.

“So, your father, how is he?”

The screen at the stage displayed an audio-only footage. And even without the picture, it is no brainer to figure out who is the owner of the voice.

“You know, it’s the same old, Jaehyun.” The other counterpart owns a fairly high-pitched voice, and it was no other than Kyungmi’s. “Thank God your dad is well connected to Chief Jang! If not it will be over for us.”

“Chief Jang?” 

“Yes, him! Daddy was telling me he was involved in poker scam when all he did was to invite that stupid rich guy from Sri Lanka!”

“Ms. Hyun, if I were you I wouldn’t say such information in a public place like this.” That is when you realized the audio was mixed with rustles, including a few sounds of people’s laughter in the background.

“Oh, Jaehyun, you’re so square!” Kyungmi squealed, borderline annoying, “We’re going to be husband and wife soon anyway. Also, I know your father would take care of it if things go bad, so it’s toots fine!”

“So yeah, I was saying,” She totally dismissed Jaehyun’s warning, “Daddy’s worst habit is he never checks on his client’s background. Who would’ve thought he was a criminal, a mafia or some sort!”

“Well that’s a surprise,” The clinking sound of cutleries being put down –presumably fork and knife– leaks in the audio, “I mean, knowing our backgrounds, Ms. Hyun, I thought your father would take extra precautions.”

“I know right! But I think daddy felt safe because we’re about to get married. Nobody messes around with your father, Jaehyun, we all know that. In any case, the seven hundred million that daddy gets from him will also be split to your father’s bank account too.”

The whole audience gasps.

“Nonsense!” His father tries to escape the officer’s grip. “Jaehyun, I command you to stop! This is ridiculous!”

“Jaehyun! You recorded our conversation?!” Kyungmi also protests.

“What are you doing, son?!” His father used all of his strength to move closer to where Jaehyun is, suit all wrinkled from trying to escape the officers’ grip. “Don’t you realize the consequences we’ll have to deal with once all of these leaks out?!”

“Everyone!” She pleaded, “This is all fabricated! My father and I are people of honor! We, The Hyuns, would never do such things!”

“Fabricated?” Jaehyun stared at the two people who looked awry in front of him. 

That is when they know they just landed on the minefield.

Jaehyun scoffed, mockingly, “Initially don’t want to show this because the footage is not very pleasing. Believe me, if only the two of them would admit the truth, I wouldn’t.” He speaks to the audience, dismissing the protests behind.

“For the record,” He continues, “I would like to warn everyone that what I’m about to show you is containing graphic content and might be upsetting to watch. So if you are sensitive to the subject, I advise you to not look, but this is needed to unfold the truth.”

Jaehyun gives Taeil a nod, permitting him to play the infamous clip.

Suddenly the screen plays a motion image of a corridor. By the setup, you’re guessing the location was in the corridor of a luxury hotel. A penthouse, probably.

“Ready, Chicago?”

“Whenever you are, Winnie.”

The unfamiliar voice called for the unfamiliar name, but after spending so much time meeting with him, you know that the voice belongs the man who’s sitting next to you. You seem to be the only one who realized this, as you are the only one who shift your gaze to him who casually watching the footage while crossing his legs.

At the cue, they forcefully enter the room, at the sight of middle-aged men in the middle of intercourse, where a lone woman is unconscious. There are no subtitles available, but it is evidently clear that she was drugged. One of the men who was in the middle of recording the lovemaking panicked. He tried to escape but unfortunately for him the person who wore the camera got him. Johnny, on the other hand swiftly took care of the man who was raping the lady.

“Do we got them all?” Johnny checks.

“We do,” Another man appears on the frame. He was wearing a uniform so you couldn’t tell who it was.

“Good.” The cameraman applauds them for their swift and clean job. “Teddy, help Winnie tying them up. I got business to ask this guy.”

“Roger that, Casper,” The person with code name Teddy exclaims, before the camera pans to a disgusting figure of the rotten old man. Not only you were horrified with the fact that the footage wasn’t censored, but you were also shocked by the fact that you know there could be only one who possessed the low velvety voice like the cameraman’s – no other than Jeong Jaehyun himself.

“Chief Jang,” He approached the man in question, filming the man’s then-horny face. “Look what we got, a prestigious man gang-banged an immobilized woman. What would the society say?”

“Don’t!” The man asked for mercy. “Please, I’ll do anything! Don’t let people know!”

He whimpers, but Jaehyun shows no sign of backing off, “Anything?”

“Yes, yes! Anything! What do you want? Money? Gold? Oh, I can give you women, too!”

Johnny clearly was not satisfied with his answer. He almost lost his temper at the way this man looked down on women, he reactively choked the man out of anger.

“Easy,” Jaehyun commands, “Now listen you piece of shit,” Jaehyun squatted so he can be on the same eye-level as the man. He pulls his hair so he could get a clearer shot of his face, which in return gains a shrieking yelp from the man.

“Tell me, where did you get all of these accesses?”

The man writhed in pain but refused to speak a single word.

“Chicago,”

Johnny slammed the man’s head to the end of the bed, causing him to scream in pain, and blood started to ooze from his head. The audience screamed at the sudden violence. Some even took a napkin and rushed to the nearby toilet, feeling nauseated.

“Talk,” He pulls the man’s head once more, revealing his ugly sobs that are mixed with blood. “You don’t want to mess around with our friend here,” He gestured to Johnny, “He’s a man of brute strength.”

“I’ll talk! I’ll talk!” It’s almost disgusting how he easily gives in. “It’s Wonshik Hyun! He told me if I could let him out of his gambling cases, he would exchange it with these!”

“Wonshik Hyun?”

“The founder of Hyun Ventures!” He choked, almost out of breath due to the pain. However when he looked at Jaehyun’s glare, he was instantly intimidated, “He is addicted to gambling, and it is thanks to his partner, the founder of NCT Corporation he’s able to walk away!”

“You’re from fucking law enforcement, Chief Jang.” Jaehyun scowled, sickened by the way he acted, “At the highest ranking for fuck’s sake, yet here you are.”

“I’m sorry!” He cries, “I was about to investigate it but I just can’t stop.”

Jaehyun clicked his tongue in disbelief.

“Please let me go! Don’t tell anyone about this! I have a family back home.” He sobs, asking for their pity.

“My son, yes, my son!” His pathetic face quickly turned bright, as if he just found a way out. “He’s about to enter college! My child, he aims to enter law school this year, surely you don’t want to ruin his future?!”

A fist landed on his cheek, snapping his nose into a grotesquerie. He didn’t stop with just a punch, not until Johnny held him back.

“Enough, Casper. He won’t be able to speak.”

“Fucking bastard.” Barely holding his anger, you never know Jaehyun is capable of releasing such wrath. “We are the one who’s gonna ruin his future? Look at yourself you filthy fuck–”

The video stops, and the crowd quickly starts to murmur. They closed their mouths at the sudden revelation, and it’s obvious that they’re giving displeased looks to Jaehyun’s father.

“How…”

Cat got his tongue. He can’t say anything when the evidence is crystal clear.

“Sir,” Jaehyun answers confidently, “You, introducing me to Ms. Hyun is exactly the key that I needed to unfold the truth. That part I have to thank you.”

“Jaehyun, you used me?! How could you, I’m your fiancée!”

The crowds let out a loud gasp before Jaehyun calmly handles the situation, “Fiancée? Did I ever say yes to the engagement? You’re the one who’s acting on your own. Our meetings are always arranged by my father, telling me I should get close to you. But I’m glad I can turn our dinners to gain the information I needed, Ms. Hyun”

His statements made Kyungmi lost all the strength on his legs. She couldn’t accept if this is her fate so she continues to freak out, “How dare you, Jaehyun! I loved you, and I thought what we share was real!”

If a gaze could cut, Kyungmi would be in pieces right now. Jaehyun’s stare was sharp, and cold, causing her to flinch. “How could I love you when I don’t even have your number, Ms. Hyun? I know nothing of you, except the fact that you own a loose mouth.”

You can start to listen to the people behind you talking to each other.

“She’s his fiancée?”

“What kind of fiancée that doesn’t have each other’s number? What a crazy woman!”

“She’s just delusional, Jeong Jaehyun probably just talked to her once and she thinks he’s her!”

“Ms. Hyun,” Jaehyun continues to speak, this time looking directly at her, still standing near the mic. “I’d like to thank you for giving me the most crucial information regarding…” He hesitates but decides to proceed. “This father of mine. But I’d like to tell you and,” He looks forward to the guests. “To everyone who attends.”

“There’s only one woman in my life that was able to change my heartless soul. She’s the one that I will always treasure. I never know my heart is capable of beating the way it beats when she’s around me. Her views, her visions. She’s different from any other woman I knew. She’s a fighter, a firecracker, in fact. And that is why I love her. She’s the one who introduces me that there is always hope.”

“Because of this,” He looked back at the two people, scornfully, “I was unable to keep her. But like a ray of sunshine after rain, I hope tomorrow, or the day after, or even after it passes seventy years.” He took a quick glance at you, before directing it back upfront. “I hope it could bring her.”

You bring both of your hands in front of your hand, not expecting his sudden confession. You swore you’re not a crybaby, but the last few minutes are probably the most information you have to take in a short period of time and it’s understandable that you’re unable to keep your emotion in check.

Your heart is about to jump out of your chest, heart racing from his words. Tears welled up, but you’re not a fighter –like what Jaehyun mentioned, if you didn’t try to fight your own tears.

“Fool!” Finally snaps, his father uses every bit of his strength to escape from the hands that are holding him. “You just expose our family, Jaehyun! Do you think you can escape this?! Or your filthy ungrateful brother?!” He said, grabbing his son’s suit. Jaehyun, who’s clearly on the upper hand in term of strength, easily broke free from his grip.

“Don’t act like we’re your own,” Jaehyun grunts, “I’ve not used a single penny you gave to me. You can check my bank account where you always transfer my money. The amount is exactly whatever you gave to me in years.”

His face slowly lost its vibrance, “And don’t act as you care about Mark,” Jaehyun looks at Mark’s direction, nodding at him to make him feel secured. “I did this for our family, when you failed to do so. I bet all of my net worth that you don’t even know that Mark has been working part-time for his own spendings. Also, from this day onwards all of his necessities will go through me as I will be his guardian.”

Mark’s jaw drops, he could not believe the turn of the events –of his rotten father finally meeting his doom.

You thought by now his father would turn himself, but you were wrong. Instead, he started to laugh hysterically.

“Heh, do you think it will be easy, boy?” His father snickers, as if he lost his sanity. “Wait until I talk to my lawyer. Do you think my men would stop? You just took one person, son. That is barely enough to take me down.”

“Oh?” Jaehyun raised one brow upwards, “Three months ago when you first introduced Ms. Hyun at Seo’s office, we’re already more than halfway in on our operation.”

“Not only I was involved, but I am connected to your people too. I hope you haven’t turned insane to not remember that you do planned on making me the next heir.” He said, unfazed.

“Most of your powerful men are now waiting for their trials. You’ll be the next in line. You’ll have the right to consult with a lawyer prior to any further questioning at your own expense. Though, your personal lawyer, Mr. Yang would not be able to attend due to the fact he receives money from illegal transactions.”

“You son of a bitch!” Jaehyun’s father finally lost it, about to throw his fist to Jaehyun. Him, being well-trained in combat, is able to tackle it easily, twisting his father’s arm.

“Bitch? Who are you referring to, my deceased mother?” He looked low at his father, who’s writhing in pain. “Let’s finish this in the court. Though, I’m positive you’ll end behind the bars for the rest of your life. Then, go and think twice before you call my mother that way.”

He pushed his father away and the officers quickly grab him. With Jaehyun’s commands, they finally take both Mr. Jeong and Kyungmi away.

“Sorry for the scene,” He runs his hand through his hair, fixing it before he greets the audience, “There will be another separate session for the press release regarding this. So for tonight, do enjoy the food and the champagnes. I was told the canapés are marvelous.”

He then goes down the stage, to where Mark is. Mark practically runs to his older brother, asking for a further explanation about the whole situation. Same goes with the rest of the people. As expected, the crowds start to swarm around both of them.

“I guess nobody is interested in the canapés, huh?” Johnny said, finally turning his body to where the rest of you are.

“Duh. But before that,” You lean forward so you’re closer to Johnny, “You are a fucking secret agent? What the heck is going on! How could I not know?!”

“Language, [Y/N]. And if you do know then I’m doing a lame job as a secret agent, no?” He chuckles, rightfully earned your tiny punches.

“I thought you invited me for your project launching party, [Y/N].” Yuta finally spoke, after every single one of you on your table was silenced due to the drama that happened on the stage. “You never told me that… we’re going to watch a soap opera.”

“Believe me, Yuta,” You rolled your eyes, “How could I know?”

You guys were busy discussing what just happened, and then suddenly you sensed that flocks of people were coming to your direction.

You turned your head to find the fine man in white suit was the one who brought the crowd to you.

“[Y/N],” He says softly.

“Jaehyun,” You reactively rose from your seat, but quickly hesitated. Jaehyun did declare his love to you. Sure, he never mentioned your name but that doesn’t change the fact that the first woman he approached was you –and you know how much people quickly jump into the conclusion. The last thing you want is to gain people’s attention by being together with him.

“Johnny,” As if he could read your mind, he quickly glanced at Johnny’s direction, which Johnny replied with a single nod.

“Alright, everyone,” Johnny stands up, fixing his suit. “Donghyuck, let’s guide them to the VIP room.”

Without any further explanation, Donghyuck escorts both you and Yuta to the designated room. The journey there was tedious, you couldn’t imagine how Jaehyun could even walk to you with the crowd constantly barging him with questions. 

“Mr. Jeong! What makes you do this?”

“Is it out of revenge, Jaehyun?”

“Our transaction with NCT Corporation is legal, right?”

The crowd was more persistent than what Jaehyun thought. They keep pushing, demanding for an answer while Jaehyun kept his mouth shut. As the result, they squeezed you. Of course, Jaehyun would stay by your side in a heartbeat if he could, but there’s a line that he couldn’t cross –Yuta trying his best to protect you next by your side. But there’s so much that Yuta can do, fighting the rest of the hall by himself.

“Sicheng,”

Jaehyun uses his eyes to point in your direction, and a person named Sicheng who was stationed nearby quickly guards you. It becomes more bearable, since he granted you with enough space to walk, especially when you’re wearing an evening gown.

When they almost reach the end of the hall, more bodyguards are stationed, letting you and the rest of the group in while they hold the crowd who are still curious.

“Alright,” Johnny closes the door, now that everybody is inside the room. “So, how should we start, Jae?”

Now all eyes are on Jaehyun, including yours. But Jaehyun only fixes his gaze to yours.

He was drained. He might win this, but that was after he pulls every of his ace cards. All he wanted was to hold you, and for you to pat him on his head and thank him for his effort. 

But he can’t, not when Yuta is crossing his arms in front of his chest, waiting for an explanation. Yuta might not be directly involved, but now that he knows, he won’t accept a cliffhanger.

“Uhm, so where should I start…”

In contrast to his excellent stage presence, he is now stuttering, clearly awkward after engaging in eye contact with you. You are equally as nervous, fidgeting on your own fingers.

Yuta seems to notice the tension, breaking the awkward atmosphere, “I think you guys should talk.”

Everyone is in shock with his statement. Clearly giving him a ‘you just let your lover talk with her ex, though?’ kind of look. Yuta, on the other hand, finds his action to be very logical.

“I think you owe [Y/N] plenty of explanation, man. Probably something that’s only between you guys.”

You give him a look, asking him once more whether he’s sure with his decision. He gives you a gentle nod. “Just make sure you’re back for me.”

As much as Jaehyun is thankful to Yuta for giving his permission to talk to you, it doesn’t change the fact that his last sentence stings. The fact that Jaehyun is no longer the owner of your heart makes his heart feels heavy. 

Eventually you and Jaehyun agree to his suggestion, making your way to the room next door.

“I, uhm,” He scratched his head.

“Since when, Jae?” You asked first, giving him the hint where he should start.

“Well, let’s sit down first.”

He then proceeds by telling you that it started after he met Johnny again. They were teammates back in high school but turned out the friendship actually didn’t start there. Johnny entered NCT Corp. due to the fact he was the agent that was stationed there, for a mission that was obvious; arresting the head of Jeong.

He approaches Jaehyun, but Jaehyun outsmarts him to figure out his identity. Johnny thought he failed his mission, with his target’s son finding out who he was, but what a twist of an event it was for Jaehyun to actually offer his hand to help.

“So you were living this life even when we were together?”

“[Y/N]...” He gently speaks, as if he was afraid to break a heart that is so dear to him, “It was never my intention to put you in danger. It was a miscalculation on my side to fall for you that night.”

“Miscalculation?” You emphasized his choice of word, ready to snap at him.

“The best mistake I’ve ever made.”

Your cheeks start to turn pink at his remark, makes you forcefully break the eye contact.

“Uhm,” You awkwardly converse back to him, “No wonder you always came home late. You were rarely at home before midnight.”

“Aren’t you pushing yourself?”

You were about to tug one of his wild strands of hair, before you back off and remembered that he’s no longer yours.

He lets out a disappointed smile.

“I met you and I was already in the middle of my mission.”

“Yet you’re still asking me out?”

“I wish I could blame it on the alcohol that night, but I know they just unleashed my deepest desire. I couldn’t forget you ever since that night where we met at the bar. Ever since we made the first eye contact.”

“But you’re keeping secrets from me, Jaehyun. And not just any secret, you being a COO is already a big step that I have to take. Then suddenly you are the next heir of an underground business, and the next thing I know you’re also a secret agent! I was living a pretty normal life, Jaehyun, then you suddenly came into the picture. How do you expect a person like me, dating a powerful man like you?”

“It’s just the consequences that I have to take eventually.”

“You could’ve just told me properly, you know, as a warning.”

His voice was saturated with regret, “I know it’s wrong, but I swear I would never purposely put you in danger. The reason why I didn’t tell you all of these was because the egoistic part of me didn’t want you to leave me out of fear. I was overly confident that I could overtake my father in no time. I thought I could keep it hidden and live my life peacefully with you, but I didn’t expect him to... meet you.”

Part of you felt guilty at the way he mentioned how you would leave when you discover the truth. On how accurate his predictions were.

“It’s just…”  He sighs, “I was this close, [Y/N]. Of course, Hyun Kyungmi was an opening I never knew would come, but even so I was confident I could arrest him on my own. And I have to do this. For Mark, and for my future, our future.”

The sentence ended with a pregnant pause, both of you unsure how the conversation should continue.

Was it always this awkward with Jaehyun?

“So…” He finally breaks the silence, “Yuta, I think he’s a great guy.”

Your eyes quiver at the way Jaehyun speaks Yuta’s name. 

“He is, Jaehyun.” You carefully replied, “Though his jokes are borderline rude, it’s just his way to show his affection.”

Jaehyun dryly laughs, “He’s different from me, doesn’t he?”

His words stop you from going, prolonging the pause.

“But I’m glad he’s able to make you laugh like that.”

You saw how his gaze turns soft. It’s been forever since Jaehyun got a chance to look at you, and only you. It’s been a while he could have all of you for himself, for you guys talk in private like this.

He was intoxicated, in you. And he let you slipped away. He finally reached his goal, but he didn’t receive his prize.

“I miss you, [Y/N].”

You pressed your lips together. Air of melancholy filled the way you look at him.

“Jaehyun, I-”

“I know, I know. Just… let me get this out of my chest.”

He took a deep breath in, “Please let me this one go,”

He hugs you, and it feels like years since the last time you’ve felt Jaehyun’s warmth. 

There was a momentary pause before you could react.

Is this okay?

Is this fair, for you, Jaehyun, most importantly, for Yuta?

But how could something that feels so right be so wrong?

So you hug his broad shoulder back, pulling him closer to you. Indulging his embrace that’s been missing from you.

“You know, I always thought by hiding it from you means I can have my own haven. Living a triple life is can be quite chaotic.”

You laughed, “I could imagine.”

He scoffed warmly, “I have to wear three different masks in each settings, and there are times where I feel like I could break into pieces.”

“But then I met you,” He carefully caressed your hair, making sure he didn’t ruin your hairstyle for the night. “Every time I woke up next to you, I just knew what I’ve been missing in my life. How our mind connected, the sound of your laughter, and the way you teach me how to love, and the way you loved me back.”

Jaehyun always feels perfect, but he is a human too. You can feel he’s trembling, fighting the waves of emotion, “For once, I could be just myself when I’m with you. Not COO Jaehyun, or the next heir for some underground business, nor a secret agent. I can just be just Jaehyun, and it was liberating.”

His words hit you hard. You never knew how much weight he has on his shoulder, and how he hold everything on his own. You never knew that Jaehyun leaned on you that much.

It’s not fair for him to tell him all of this now. Not when you thought you can live your life without him.

“The next morning after you left, I thought I just had a nightmare.” He continues, “That night was probably the longest night I ever experienced. I fell asleep, drunk. When I woke up and I couldn’t find you next to me, I thought you were in the kitchen. You always said you wanted to make me breakfast.

Jaehyun took another breath in, “Yet the only sight I saw was the mess from the night before and everything finally became a reality for me.”

He lets you go, to see that you’re about to cry. He forcefully smiles, trying his best not to show the already apparent sadness.

“Don’t cry. You’re kind, that’s why you pitied me.”

No, that’s not it, Jaehyun.

You wonder why it is so hard for you to tell him so, but words just won’t come out.

“I realized that I meet someone and we sometimes drift apart. Sometimes it seems to be too much and too vague, so I get anxious over it. Even so, the world moves on, and so are you.”

Are you?

“I’m happy that Yuta’s able to make you smile. Something that I took away from you that night. I’m sorry for hiding things from you, but please know everything that we shared, our relationship, is real. Probably the most genuine feelings that I ever felt.”

You took one of your fingers to wipe the corners of your eyes, preventing the tears to ruin your makeup.

“Jaehyun, please don’t be so hard on yourself. Now that I know every reason behind it, it would be stupid of me not to forgive you.”

He nods, and there goes another silence.

Are you OK leaving things this way? How could you figure out your heart when your mind is filled with numerous tangled threads?

Suddenly the room next to you became so loud, surprising both you and Jaehyun. 

“Looks like he’s here,” Jaehyun stares at the wall, seeming to know the reason behind the fuss.

“Let’s go?” He offers his hand, shocked with his own action.

“Sorry,” He quickly shoved his hand to his pants pocket. “Old habits die hard.”

Oh, Jaehyun.

That, you too know very well.

Both of you walked to the first room to see Taeyong who’s busy crying while Mark continuously patted him, telling him to stop.

“There’s no way I could not cry, dumbass!” Taeyong pouts, receiving tissue from Johnny, “You’re finally free, Mark.”

A/N: Can you believe next week we’re going to have our last chapter? :o

So quick question, are you team Jaehyun or team Yuta? lol

[thecorteztwins]

Monsoon Visits Krakoa

Based off my “numerous minor Marvel women hit on Monsoon” comedy fic idea. Apologies if anyone feels their fave was maligned or OOC in this. I tried to mostly keep it to characters so obscure no one would care, but Monet St. Croix did make her fabulous way in, and I can see how one would think this behavior is beneath her. Which I don’t disagree with per se, but just try to take it as the lighthearted fic it is!

"Thank you for the assistance,” said the woman in the barely-there purple...swimsuit? Monsoon wasn’t sure. He just knew that you couldn’t yell things like...like what those men had been saying at her...just because she wore something like that. Even if it made him uncomfortable. Just as it had probably made her even more uncomfortable when said men had followed her into this deserted alley, hence why he had arrived, scaring them off. Yet she seemed...less than thrilled about it. Perhaps she saw his interference as insulting to her own capability? Western women could often be confusing like that, he was frequently unsure what would be offensive or not in their culture. He wanted to be respectful, but it often seemed like the rules were far more individualized here than in India, where--- “But it was uneeded,” she continued, stepping close to him, “Perhaps though, you can make up their loss to me. ” Fantasma traced a purple-nailed finger over his broad chest, “You’re very large and you look healthy. Your morals though are very...human...and while those are not supposed to be genetic, I’d rather not risk those being passed to my children.” “Oh,” he said, relieved but feeling no less awkward about this, “Well, I...wish you the best with your endeavors...” “You can still help with that,” she said, her form beginning to shift, growing larger, purple, clawed, fanged, horned.... “For when they hatch...they will need food...” And that was his cue to fly away. *** “Oh monsieur,” said the French Canadian mutant woman known as Murmur as she fell (more than a little deliberately) into Monsoon’s arms, “You ‘ave no idea my gratitude---not just for your rescue, but for ze touch of a man! You see, my powers, zey can only work by touch, so ze brutes here, they employed only robots to guard me!” “Oh,” said Monsoon, a little cautiously as he found himself carrying her, ”What are your powers, exactly?” ”I can make anyone anyzhing I zay,” breathed Murmur, staring into his eyes with a significant, sultry gaze, then whispered in his ear with sensual emphasis, ”Anyzhing.” Then, giggling and drawing back, she continued, “But ‘ave no worries, mon hero Monsoon, I shall not use it against you---- for I am sure that zhere is nothing I could make you do to me that you do not already want to, non?” Monsoon decided to call her a cab to the nearest Krakoa portal instead of carrying her. *** Speaking of Krakoa, Monsoon didn’t want to go there himself. He didn’t like the idea of it at all. Xavier’s ideals had been far too radical for his tastes to begin with, claiming to stand for peace and unity while cloistering a secret army of mutant soldiers away, training children to become the mutant police. And Magneto, well, he was even worse! He was half the reason there needed to BE mutant police! And now they were separating themselves on to an island, with some of the worst villains among their kind helping to RUN it! No, Monsoon wanted no part of it. Haven had made good arguments to him on why it was a good thing or at least not a bad thing or an unneeded one, but Monsoon didn’t like it and he didn’t want to be a part of it. But some of the mutant children under Haven’s care DID want to be a part of it. Monsoon said they were too young to see the danger, to see that the people running it ranged from misled radicals to literal monsters, to understand they’d be living alongside a great many criminals who had harmed others for fun and profit. But Haven had said that the children should have a choice where they lived. She believed Krakoa COULD be safe. She just also, for all her good points made about why a mutant-only land could be a good thing, had misgivings about just blindly sending the children there. She wanted to give them agency---but she also had to make sure that the options being given to them were safe. Monsoon agreed more than wholeheartedly, and had very literally leaped (into the sky, specifically, to fly to the nearest portal) at the idea of going to the island to visit the kids and snoop around, talk to the residents, get a feel for the place and how it was run...and who was running it. As soon as he stepped out of the portal, he was greeted by two women, a blonde who introduced herself as Phantazia and a redhead who said her name was Dragoness, probably due to the mechanical wings she sported. Both he recognized as former terrorists; Phantazia had been a member of the Brotherhood, Dragoness from the Mutant Liberation Front. Not the people Monsoon wanted to have much to do with...but then, investigating their sort was why he was here. After they put him through security checks, he started asking questions. Phantazia was fairly open to it, with a professional though not friendly demeanor, while Dragoness was...none of the above. ”What is your deal, buddy?!” the latter demanded, “Do you want to live here or not?!” ”I do not,” said Monsoon flatly, “But the children my sister is charged with are--” ”Then why are we wasting our time with you?!” Dragonness cut him off, tossing his paperwork from Phantazia’s clipboard. ”Because I don’t believe this place is safe!” Monsoon bellowed back. ”Then why are you--” ZAP! Phantazia let loose a burst of her electromagnetic energy. She didn’t touch either Monsoon or Dragoness with it, she just made the noise. ”Knock it off, you two!” she barked, “Whatever his reasons for being here, so long as he’s a mutant and not going to cause trouble, he’s got the right to ask anything he wants. If you don’t want to do your job and help, Tamara, you can leave! Mr. Dastoor, I’ll go over everything with you til you’re satisfied, but you MUST remain calm and polite, understand?” Dragoness flew off in a huff, and Phantazia looked pleased. ”Alright now,” she said, turning back to Monsoon, ”Now that she’s out of the picture...as I was saying...we should go over everything...to your satisfaction...” Monsoon did not catch the meaning of her tone...at first, anyway. Five minutes later, he was running off in the opposite direction at random into the wilds of Krakoa...right into where Dragoness had gone, nearly bumping into her. ”Hey! Watch it!” she snarled, her hands crackling with bio-electric bursts ready to fire, ”What?! You again?! You wanna tangle, buddy?! You wanna fight?!” ”No, no!” Monsoon placed his hands up in apology, “I am sorry, I did not mean to do that--I was not watching where I was---” ”Clearly!” she yelled, hurling one of the blasts at him. Caught off guard, he was struck full in the chest, and knocked flat on his back in the mud. He didn’t want to fight her, to commit needless violence over little more than wounded pride, his sister had brought him up better than that and he was representing her here, so he lay still for a moment deciding what to do that wouldn’t set her off again. It seems he waited too long, however, as Dragoness strutted over to him and planted a boot on his chest. ”You know,” she purred smugly, “I think I like you better from this angle...say, look how dirty you got...you’re gonna need to clean up...how does a nice long hot shower sound?” ”Er...I would much appreciate that, ma’am,” said Monsoon, a bit hesitant and confused. He would appreciate it, but he wasn’t sure what to make of her change in tone and demeanor. She sounded like...like... Oh no. He realized...she sounded like Phantazia had. And Murmur. And, to a point, Fantasma. He began trying to wriggle out from under her foot. ”Hey! Where you going big boy?!” Dragoness called after him as he scampered away into the bushes in a very undignified way. Undignified...but unmolested. *** He reached a visitors area that had a bathroom, where he was allowed to shower and swap his muddy clothes for clean ones. The bath station attendant was a woman named Lorelei---evident by how she referred to herself only in the third person---and she didn’t seem to speak English well, using a broken, childish syntax. But they communicated just fine all the same. ”Lorelei help?” she asked, as she handed him a towel and bath supplies before he headed to the showers. ”Yes, you have been very helpful,” Monsoon said, “Thank you very much, Lorelei.” ”Lorelei help soon.” ”Yes, see you soon,” he understood that was a common American way of saying goodbye. But it seemed she’d meant it a little more...literally. As he’d been washing his hair, the curtain was pulled aside, and there stood Loreleil. Completely naked. ”Lorelei help?” she said, picking up a sponge. Monsoon tore out of there, grabbing the new set of clothes on the way out. *** “Of course it is safe,” Monet St. Croix said in a dismissive tut-tut tone to Monsoon as they toured one of the residential areas, “You think I would bring my precious little sisters here if it were not?” “That was why I wanted to ask you,” said Monsoon, as the aforementioned little sisters ran around his legs, “Since you have children.” “I also have a brother. An older brother. An evil older brother who feeds on other mutants and who is ALSO on this island. If I thought for ONE moment that he could EVER even POSSIBLY get to myself or my sisters, I would fly us all halfway around the world in the blink of an eye, monsieur. I am INSULTED you even have to ASK.” “I...I see,” said Monsoon, not having expected so fiery a response, despite his own temper being similarly hot, especially when it came to his own temper. “I should hope so,” she huffed, “But...since your intentions were good, I am prepared to forgive you. What say we go somewhere Nicole and Claudette shall not bother us? Somewhere...private?” That was when he realized she had started unzipping the top of her costume. “I...er...I must converse with others, ma’am, thank you!” he said, and raised himself aloft on the winds. Thankfully, even though he was in the air, it was still beneath Monet St. Croix to follow. *** From overhead, he sighted a serene-looking glade, brilliantly green grass and foliage surrounding a clear blue natural pool, and he descended. As he touched down near the pool’s edge, a woman’s voice greeted him, and he turned to see in the shadow of a large bush, a blonde in a dark costume that had not been visible from above due to the trees. “Hello there. Thank you for joining me. I hope it doesn’t disappoint you to find someone else here---I know it’s the sort of place people go to be alone, but I never like being ENTIRELY alone. I just don’t like crowds either.” Her name was Darkstar, and, as someone raised with a few other---but not many---mutant peers in a Soviet “school” that was in fact a state facility, then went on to a lifetime of serving on mostly-Russian superhero teams, she indeed wasn’t used to either crowds or solitude. She always had at least two other teammates with her...but never a great number either, like on Krakoa, where there were no more “teams”, where all mutants were one. It reminded her of home, in that way, though when she said that to others, it was taken as a criticism. They introduced themselves, Monsoon a bit cautious, but she didn’t throw herself at him or start taking off her clothes, and it turned out she was nice. She was even receptive when he brought up his issues with Krakoa and how it was run. “But speaking of that,” she said, after listening, and even agreeing with some points, “I am a resident of Krakoa. And as a member of this state...I abide by its laws. Currently, we are being encouraged to...to breed. I realize this is quite forward, but I was wondering if you might---” And Monsoon had shot into the air and zoomed away before Laynia “Darkstar” Petrovna could even finish asking him if she could get his opinion as a man on the outfits she was considering for her date tonight *** “Oh wow,” said a blonde barely out of her teens as he landed among a crowd of mutants near her, “Looks like it’s my lucky day. But then, it always is, for the likes of me, Roulette! And you’re about to get even luckier, stranger!” Aaaaand he was in the air again.  *** Monsoon very carefully selected the next people he spoke to---namely, he ensured they were MEN. They were also villains. He’d never heard of Shinobi Shaw, but he knew Fabian Cortez, he had been in the news as the terrorist who temporarily took over Genosha, around the same time Radha had been a...Monsoon still didn’t like to think of his sister as a villain. It didn’t count! It wasn’t her fault! And of course, Radha being Radha, she said that just as no one had known her real story, her real situation, they shouldn’t assume that others didn’t have such stories of their own, but...he doubted it. Especially within three minutes of speaking to these two. But the fact they were clearly slimy, self-centered, self-important hedonists who were NOTHING like his sister meant they were probably the best people to talk to, because they were the sorts of people he was worried about. ...of course, increasingly he was wondering why, as he wasn’t sure these two seemed competent enough to actually be dangerous. ”I see,” he said stiffly once he felt he’d found out all he needed or could from this pair, and wanting to get away from them as swiftly as possible. He was starting to feel he needed another shower. But what he actually needed was clothing. He really didn’t want to go home in the...uniform, for lack of a better word, that Lorelei had provided him with. It seemed that, along with human languages and other cultural mores, the mutants of Krakoa wished to do away with human manners of dress. But Shinobi Shaw was still dressing like a...well, not how Monsoon would dress, but like SOME people in the rest of the world would. He felt like Radha might like his style though; lots of purple and gold. ”Thank you both immensely for your help, I appreciate your time and patience with me. I have but one more question to trouble you with.” ”If you must,” Fabian sighed as though this were an exhausting ordeal that he was a saint for indulging. ”Shoot, stud,” said Shinobi, twirling a lock of his hair around one gloved fingers. ”I wish to procure clothing that is not a....a skinsuit,” Monsoon said, gesturing to the one he wore. ”Understandable,” said Fabian in a gently lofty and patronizing tone, “Not all of us look as good in them as I.” ”But since Aloba here does and then some, I’m reluctant to ruin the view,” Shinobi returned, “Still, if you’re looking for anything to do with textiles....Skein is who you want to talk to.” ”Skein?” Monsoon asked, his tone revealing his familiarity with the name. ”You know her?” said Fabian, “Ah, I apologize to you for how much she’s doubtlessly RAVED about me to you. She’s hopelessly---” ”Down the street, third home on the left,” Shinobi cut him off, “Don’t let this bozo come with, or he’ll distract her entirely.” ”It’s true,” Fabian smirked, “She just can’t keep her mind on work when I’m around.” As Monsoon left, he was fairly sure he saw Shinobi’s eyes roll at the ginger’s last comment. *** Monsoon was, understandably, cautious as he entered Skein’s abode and made his request. ”Basic salwar kameez?” she replied, “Yeah, I can whip that right up. Just give me what you’re wearing now and I’ll re-arrange the fabric.” ”But, ah...this is all I have here...” Monsoon said nervously. ”Wait in my room,” Skein said. ”I...would prefer not to.” ”Look, I’m not gonna come in and molest you, just hang out with your thang out for a few minutes and I’ll pass you back your fancy new suit, k?” ”You’re...not?” Monsoon asked. Skein raised her eyebrows. She’d been joking around. But this guy seemed sincerely relieved. “Nah. You’re too much of a hardbody for me, big boy. But tell your sister I said hi.” Monsoon said he would, unaware of the implication there. Just as Haven would be later when he told her. *** As Monsoon stepped out of the Krakoa portal, he very nearly knocked over...oh no...an attractive, scantily clad woman. ”Hey, watch it buddy, I’m walking here!” she cawed at him. Ah, he’d emerged in New York. Heidi P. Franklin aka Pretty Persuasions regarded him. She in fact had NOT been walking by, but waiting outside the portal, hoping for someone to come out who could get her in. Heidi was NOT a mutant, having gained her powers through being experimented on instead, but she WAS a partier...and Krakoa sounded like one HOT party, if the rumors were to be believed. ”Hey, I know how you can make it up to me,” she purred, and Monsoon winced. He knew THAT tone by now. Pushing herself up against him, she continued, “Get me into Krakoa, big boy.” ”I wouldn’t know how,” he said, trying to push her away as gently as possible without actually touching her, “If the portal will not let you through, then there is nothing I can---” ”Oh come on now...for me?” All of a sudden he felt...aroused. More than the natural animal reaction he’d had to other women; that had been buried under his embarrassment and his personal values and his spiritual choice to abstain before marriage...this, this was stronger, clouding his mind, making him want to do...not just do her, but do anything she wanted him to. Anything. This was too far. The other women had said things. Some had even touched him. But this woman was manipulating his mind, his body, touching him from within, making him--- She grabbed his crotch. “NO!” he shoved her away, driven too far at last, a blast of wind carrying her even farther than his heavy shove had. He was momentarily horrified---but, as he saw her getting to her feet, he was not regretful. He was also not sticking around. *** ”Well?” Haven asked him when he returned, “What did you discover.” ”It, er...might not be safe for children,” he said, ”But it is definitely not safe for adults.” END

[muses-darling]

The Rose & The Brute || CH.2

Snow swirled up and around them as bitter winds dug into them with icy nails reaching the bone. It had been a month, Gabriel had waited until the last minute to give up his son, to take the freedom his son so greatly deserved away from him. What surprised him most was how willingly Kit had come with all the talk of wanting to someday travel, see the world, to have him go to what would likely be the rest of his life was terrifying for Gabriel. The fact that there was a likely chance he would never see the boy he had raised gripped at his heart. Standing before the great gates of the palace he looked to the young man feeling a swell of pride in his chest but also that fear rising again. Was it too late? Could he possibly by him time to run for it? Tell him to flee away from here, live out his life elsewhere? Surely this Beast wouldn’t search out the whole world for this? Perhaps in time his Son would be let free? Why would this beast only want his son and not him? 

Entering the palace gave Gabriel a familiar yet unfamiliar sight, the darkened castle now stood illuminated and the whole place looked much better kept than the last time. Gabriel looked around, “Well this is where he said you shall live and stay my son.”

Kit looked to his Father then the finery around them, he could imagine worse places to live, a cage however gilded was still a cage though. It was different from the village though, it was away from Drake. Though there was others he was leaving behind that brought sorrow to him. “I’ll be alright Father,” He told him. Trying to assure through smiles and words that all seemed hollow as the sound of encroaching footsteps beyond in the palace. 

“The master of the palace approaches,” Gabriel told him. “Whatever you see my Son know that I am sorry, he gave his word that you would not become his meal.”

“If this is the only way to ensure your safety Father I’ll live out my days here.” Kit smiled softly.

“You say that sweet boy,” Gabriel reached up and cupped the gentle cheek searching those green eyes for what he feared was the last time. He wanted to remember the young man he had raised. “But you have not seen him, you have not seen them.” 

Kit was going to ask but his eyes caught the movement of their approaching Host and the sight was more than most would bear. A lesser man would have called out many would have screamed at the sight. The being stood at eight feet at the very least, horns came twisting from its head beneath which swirled and burned two great orbs that served for its eyes. Hair the color of fire flowed down from the head and seemed to move with an energy all it’s own. When it opened it’s mouth fangs that easily tore flesh were revealed, and when one looked longer one realized that fire was barely contained within the beast. Scars littered the hide beneath a shirt that had been placed upon it Kit swallowed and made a bow. “Your Grace.” 

“Manners,” The Beast brusquely. “How unusual, my last visitor was in need of them.”

“You get many visitors my Lord?” Kit asked standing fixing the Beast with those eyes, like a garden lush with life. 

The Beast let out a terrible laugh moving between them, “No, but then again not many would live to visit again.” 

“You gave me your word that he would live here,” Gabriel said not liking the tone the conversation had taken. 

“So I did, not that you will remain here to find out just how he will live.” The Beast opened the door as unseen forces grasped Gabriel dragging him from the palace. 

“Wait!” Kit helplessly moved towards his Father. “Please!”

The Beast looked at Kit and what one could only view as an eyebrow raised silently bid him speak.

“If I’m not to see my Father again, might I at least say goodbye?” Kit asked. 

“Have you not spent the last month saying such things?” The Beast asked him.

“Please,” Kit’s eyes filled with tears as the force that pulled Gabriel away ceased moving. Kit took the moment and ran to his Father pulling him into his arms and holding him. 

“My Son, my Son, be brave,” Gabriel ran his hand through the curls as he had all those years ago when soothing the little one when a bad dream had woken him. “Be brave.”

“I will be Father, because you raised me that way.” Kit murmured. “I love you.”

“I love you Kit.” Gabriel hugged him. “I love you.” The force began pulling him away again.

Kit followed until the door closed between them keeping them apart as he sank to his knees his hand pressed to the door shoulders heaving with heavy sobs. When the sobbing had ceased Kit looked up at The Beast seeing that it watched him inquisitively he stood running a hand over his cheeks to brush the tears away. “So that’s it then? I’m here to be your play thing until you have no further use of me?”

“In ways yes,” The Beast walked to him cupping Kit’s chin with a claw clearly examining him. “A pretty face such as yours shouldn’t be marred with tears.” 

Kit resisted the urge to move from The Beast’s touch. “Then perhaps you shouldn’t cause the need for them.” 

“Hmmm,” The Beast mused but said nothing more turning from him and making it’s way to where it had come from. 

Kit watched it leave not daring to move, should he follow? What would happen if he did? 

The Beast turned and looked at him, “If you wish to sleep by the door then by all means stay there, but I think you will find it more comfortable to rest in the room prepared for your stay.” 

“You make it sound temporary,” Kit swallowed not moving. “You promised I would live.”

“And how you live is up to you so long as you stay here in the palace or on the grounds.” The Beast waved dismissively. “I grow tired of waiting, are you following or not? My patience only wears so thin.” 

“Is that why this palace is so empty?” Kit asked. “Is that what happens to those that try your patience?”

The Beast studied him for a while. “There are many reasons as to why this palace is so empty, that is one of them.” He admitted. “Now come or stay, I no longer care.” He turned. 

Kit stayed only a moment more looking back at the door as worry for his Father’s travels came to mind. He looked to the beast then took a steeling breath of courage and followed after The beast. He had no desire to sleep on the cold floor of the entrance of a castle let alone deny the Host further. The palace was gorgeous filigree of gold added opulence, marble stateliness, and mahogany an air of luxury. How a Beast had come by such trappings was beyond what Kit could comprehend. He had been to many palaces when helping his Father but none, absolutely none were like this. 

Above in the ceiling was painted various constellations, planets, and other celestial bodies of the night. Plush rugs carefully made by those who lived thousands of miles from here crushed under his feet softening the padding of his steps. Paintings decorated the walls, busts of various men and women lined a few of the halls as they moved deeper and deeper into the interior. Winding up a great stair case and passed many doors all of which begged to be opened and their contents known. How the Beast managed to know their way through without getting lost Kit doubted he would only know in time. 

The Beast had noticed the silence in his guest, at last he paused and looked noticing how easily distracted Kit was. He couldn’t help but feel a tug of amusement as he watched Kit turn around examining his new surroundings. “This is just a meager palace.” Hades told him.

“A meager palace?” Kit’s voice was incredulous. “This is grander than any palace I have ever seen!”

The Beast couldn’t help his tone of disbelief, “You’ve seen many palaces?”

“My Father, he-” Kit’s voice cut out as the realization hit him again that he would never see the man again. 

“He?” The Beast intoned.

“He has dressed many nobles, royals, and the like. Our fabrics are demanded by many.”

“Merchants?” The company he had to keep, it was better than none, but nothing like the Pashas, the Emperors, and Czars of the days of yore. 

“Yes, we earn our money by selling fine silks, cottons, and the like, though.” Kit started then shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

“Indeed,” The Beast watched him a moment more, when Kit didn’t continue he gestured to a door producing a key and holding it out to Kit. “Your apartments.”

Kit looked to the key held out to him then took it unlocking the door and pushing it forward he was greeted with a similar sight of luxury as that which he had seen before the theme of these apartments though were a soft cream and pastel green. Entering Kit spun staring at that which was his to live in, There was a room beyond with a bed, another room to dress in, a room that could easily be a study. “This is! Amazing!” Kit couldn’t help the smile. “I- Thank you.” Kit said calming down a bit. “This is lovelier than any place I have ever lived.”

The Beast would be denying the truth to say that smile wasn’t already lovelier than anything he had ever seen. “Well I would hate for you to be disappointed.” A breath of silence, “Dinner will be at sundown.”

“Dinner?” Kit raised a brow.

“Yes dinner,” The Beast said. “Be there or you shall not eat at all.” With that the Beast left.

Kit frowned, “I see.” He studied his new place to live as he felt a wave of exhaustion he fell back on the bed only to realize his eyes had been closed far longer as he awoke to darkness. Sitting up sharply Kit hurried down the stairs only to realize he had no idea where he was going. He felt fear and panic as he turned and looked around. He was lost, lost, LOST! He fell back against a wall and sobbed softly. 

A soft chiming sound filled his ear and he could have sworn a kind voice was heard too.“Try not to fret too much dear boy.” 

Kit looked up and nearly cried out as he saw the clock at his feet. “Who?” He moved to pick up the clock.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, he’s very peculiar about anyone touching him.” A voice slithered into his ear.

“Wh-”

“Oh Crowley you’re frightening him.” The kinder voice chided.

“No more than you are,” The second voice crooned. 

“Oh hush! Now then dear boy why are you crying?”

“I’m lost,” Kit said. “He-he said to be there for dinner at sundown, it is passed sundown, and I realized that even if it weren’t I wouldn’t know how to find where dinner was being held.”

“Oh now that is quite the problem.” The kind voice chimed again.

“One we can give a solution too!” 

Kit looked at the candelabra and the clock and could have sworn that they were the sources of the voices. “Are you both a clock and a candelabra?”

“Yes, well not really, you see it all started with-”

“Aziraphale!”

“Yes Crowley I’m trying to tell this charming young-oh right.” 

“So I’m not hallucinating?”

“No dear boy,” The clock named Aziraphale said. 

“But we understand why you’d think that,” Crowley the Candelabra added. “Now then why don’t we tempt you to a bite to eat?”

“He said I won’t if I don’t show up for dinner.” Kit told them.

“What he doesn’t know won’t do any harm.” Crowley said the candelabra slithering down from the mantel place taking the clock with it. 

“Though we should be quiet about it, the Master is rather ill tempered.”

“Besides how I see it if he wanted you to show up for dinner, he ought to have specified where dinner was, not just when.” Crowley continued as he moved along.

“But if he finds out-” Kit began.

“That we were eating and invited you to join us? Well he knows if anyone it is rude to refuse something offered to you.” Crowley smiled. “You are our guest.”

The clock moved as well, “Indeed you are right Crowley I think with not having had a guest in so long the Master has forgotten how to host. He’ll get better in no time. Now then won’t you be our guest?”

-

“MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMA!” Juliet a tiny teacup called out. “MAMA! MAMA! Look there’s a pretty boy here!” She was now heard to be giggling.

“Not so loud my love, you’ll wake the Master and then we’ll get the night of our lives if we haven’t already.” Jane was heard softly chiding the small cup from her tea pot form. 

“Aww but Mama! He is pretty!”

“Yes pretty indeed, pretty brave,” Jane corrected. “Not just pretty on the eyes.”

“Brave?” Kit asked. 

“Yes it takes a bold person to just give up their life they’ve known and jump into a new way of living. Let alone standing tall to the Master, I know he’s not what anyone would be expecting but after you look at him long enough you may come to realize his appearance isn’t completely disarming.”

“Just his attitude.” Kit said. “Forgive me.”

“No it serves saying, Will would often remark as such.”

“Will?”

“My husband, he-he’s probably forgotten....” Jane admitted.

“Papa forgot us?” Juliet sniffed.

Jane remembered, “Oh no dear I think he just got lost getting to the palace. Probably found a flower and started making a bouquet around it for us. When he is finished he’ll be here.” She couldn’t let her loss of hope reach her daughter.

“Oh!” Juliet said. 

“This wouldn’t be Will of the Village just on the other side of the woods?”

“The Bookshop keeper?”

“Yes,” Kit said.

“Oh that’s my William!” Jane would have grinned.

“You know Papa!” Juliet asked Kit.

“Why yes I do,” Kit answered the tiny cup.

“That makes us friends! Mama! I made a friend!”

“That is wonderful dear!” Jane cooed encouragingly to Juliet. “I suppose you are hungry?”

“Famished.”

“Well then this should help fill you,” Aziraphale said besides Crowley standing at the door way to the dining chamber. 

Kit stood from where he had been waiting with Jane and Juliet, walking into the very well lit room he was greeted with the sight of more food than he had ever seen in his life. “This is enough to feed the whole village for a feast!”

“We thought we’d pull out all the stops.” Aziraphale smiled.

“Aziraphale couldn’t decide what you would want to eat so he decided a bit of everything would do well enough.” Crowley added.

Kit’s eyes widened as he walked along the table wondering where he should start? There was tarts filled with various fruits, creams, and even savory fillings. Cakes with multiple layers, trifles too, other desert delicacies were arrayed on trays. Roasts of various animals trimmed up, A great trout in a cream sauce, a dish of gravy to pour over whatever he desired. Kit’s eyes widened further, how had all this come to be in this room? “I don’t know where to begin.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale said getting up where he could see. “Try that! The lobster, it is in a lemon butter sauce! Delicious. Oh the grapes are absolutely scrummy!” So he continued on and on giving Kit ideas till Kit’s stomach ached from how much food he had consumed. 

“How about a cup of tea to see you off to bed?” Jane asked as she neared him in her tea pot form. “Something warm for the dreams to come.” 

Juliet came up to him next, “It’s herbal sweet cinnamon, mama says that it gives good dreams!” 

Kit smiled and took a sip. “Oh that is delightful! Thank you little Juliet and thank you Jane. All of you really, I think that this has really helped me this first night.” He felt sleepy. “I think I’ll turn in!”

“Mind how you go,” Aziraphale called.

“Don’t let the demons bite!”

“If you need more tea you know where to find us dear!”

“Night, night! Sleep well! Mama, did you see he looks like a Fairytale!”

“He does my darling,” Jane told her daughter. “Now it is off to bed, with you and I, sleep is a wonderful idea!”

“Yes Mama,” Juliet followed. 

Dreams came to Kit, pleasant perhaps that tea was something to drink before bed more often! 

[madamebaggio]

Notes: I hope you’re enjoying it.

Chapters one and two can be found here.

Chapter 3

The woman guarding them –Brienne, Lucy had found out –asked someone to bring other two blankets for them and Susan was immensely relieved by it. She was dreading the moment they’d be called in front of the king –or whatever his title was –to explain themselves, for how could they explain they were from a different world?

They’d be lucky if these people didn’t think they were assassins sent for their King.

The older man that had searched Edmund and Peter for weapons came in and gave them all a look. “Gentle Queen?” He called.

Susan answered on a reflex born of years hearing the title. “Yes, my Lord?” 

The man himself looked surprised upon hearing her reply. “The King wishes to speak to you, my Lady.”

Peter stood. “How does your King know her name?” He demanded to know.

“Peter, don’t be rude.” Susan chided getting up. She passed her blanket to Lucy. “I’ll talk to your King.” She informed the man.

“Not alone!” Peter protested immediately.

“Anyway he wants.” Susan almost hissed at her brother. “He has proven himself a man of his word, and we do own him an explanation.”

Susan’s voice as gentle and calm, but her eyes told Peter that if he didn’t shut up she’d kill him. After many years, Peter was smart enough to understand it and be quiet.

The man opened the cell door and Susan nodded at him as she passed. He gave a stiff nod to Brienne and so they left.

The man walked ahead of her and two guards were right behind Susan. They walked silently until they stopped by a door.

He opened the door for Susan and she stepped into the room. Behind a desk was the man she’d seen before, the King. He had a serious face and a frown, but he was quite handsome. He was young, but the scars on his face showed he was a warrior. He made quite the imposing figure.

To his right there was a beautiful red-headed woman –his queen, perhaps? –and to his left there was a brunette who wore breeches and a very unfriendly face. On a corner of the room, almost like they were hiding, there was a boy sitting and a girl with wild hair by his side.

“Your Majesty.” Susan curtsied prettily and saw the man frown at the title -maybe they used something different here? –but he didn’t correct her.

“I am Jon Targaryen, King of the North.” He informed her. “Who are you and where have you come from?”

“My King…” She started carefully. “I will gladly answer to that, but I am afraid you’ll think me deranged if I do so.”

The two women close to King arched their browns in such a similar way that Susan was convinced they were sisters, or at least closely related. The King’s frown deepened. “I’d hear your answer anyway.”

She nodded, her posture perfect, because image was essential right now. “I am Queen Susan, the Gentle, ruler of Narnia, Duchess of Silvershore, Chief of the Narnian Archers and Dame of the Most Noble Order of the Lion.”

Everybody just stared at her.

“I am sorry, we’re overly fond of titles. You should hear Peter’s.” She offered.

“Lion?” The brunette repeated. “She serves the Lannisters!” She accused.

Susan controlled her impulse of arching a brow. “I know nothing of Lannisters and I am a Queen. I serve no one.”

The King’s eyebrows went up, but the redheaded woman grinned a bit. “You said Narnia?”

“Yes, my Lady. That’s my country.”

“Never heard of it.” The brunette said, and once again it came out as an accusation.

They all traded looks, and one by one shook their heads, concluding no one had ever heard of it. Susan, however, wasn’t surprised, she’d been expecting this.

“Is it beyond Westeros?” The King asked.

“I believe it is actually beyond your world, Your Majesty.” She replied honestly.

In face of her words, the other red head took a step forward, clearly interested.

“Beyond our world?” The brunette inquired. “What does that mean?”

“I told you I would sound crazy.” Susan reminded them.

“You certainly do.” The woman accused –again.

“Arya.” The King admonished quietly, but his eyes never left Susan. “Is that the world you brought Spring to?” He wanted to know.

Susan couldn’t hide her surprise. “How do you know that?” She asked, forgetting for a second he was the King and should be addressed as so.

“So it’s true?” The redhead beside the King wanted to know.

“Well, yes, but not because my siblings and I have any kind of magical power.” She hurried to explain. “It was part of a prophecy. Our arrival at Narnia ended the 100-year-old Winter.’

“Arrival from where?” The King asked.

Oh Aslan, this would get worse. “From our original world.”

“So you’re telling us that there are two worlds beside ours?” Arya asked dryly.

“More like a thousand, my Lady.” Susan replied. “Infinite possibilities.”

“This is ridiculous.” Arya declared to the King. “She’s mad.”

“Your Majesty.” Susan did her best to hide the worry in her voice. She had to be strong, she had to convince him they weren’t a problem. “We mean you and your people no harm. We don’t even know how we ended up here, surrounded by your men.”

The King was looking at her, but didn’t say a word, so she took this as an encouragement to keep going. “Let us go and we’ll leave your Kingdom. You have my word.”

The other two women were looking at the King, waiting for him.

“The four of you are siblings?” He questioned. 

“Yes, my King.”

“And you’re the Queen?”

“We rule Narnia together.” She explained. “The four of us are Kings and Queens of Narnia.”

He traded a look with the redhead. “So you’re married.” He concluded.

Whatever Susan had been expecting it wasn’t that conclusion. “I… I just said we’re siblings.”

“So?” He insisted.

What kind of place was this? How could he think this kind of question was even remotely appropriated? “We are not married, Your Majesty.”

“Why do you keep calling him ‘Majesty’?” The redhead asked curiously.

“Is it not the appropriate title?” Susan asked bemused.

“No, lass.” It was the older man who replied. “It’d be ‘Your Grace’.”

“Oh, I do beg your pardon, Your Grace. I meant no disrespect.”

“It’s of no consequence.” He dismissed her concern as if he couldn’t care less about it. “We have a problem here, you see? I can’t just let you and your family go, because I don’t know for a fact that you won’t hurt my people. However, I also can’t keep you as prisoners, since you’ve done nothing.”

“If I may, Your Grace.” Susan called respectfully. “Perhaps we could stay and serve you as your subjects. That way you will be able to keep your eyes on us and we’d still be useful.”

“I thought you served no one.” He reminded her of her own words.

“I am no Queen here.” She indicated.

“And how would you serve me?” He wondered.

She had no idea if he’d intended for the question to sound so suggestive, but based on the look of confusion of the other women they were also surprised by his choice of phrasing.

Susan chose to ignore it. “We’re all trained warriors, so we can help train your people.”

“You’re a warrior?” Arya didn’t even try to hide her disbelief.

“I don’t carry a bow and a quiver as accessories because they match my dresses.” She told the other woman sweetly.

“What else?” The redhead asked.

“Peter and Edmund became quite good with constructions and repairs and I saw you need it.” The way from the cells to this room had showed that the castle was in bad shape. They’d probably faced some kind of battle recently. “Lucy and I are decent seamstresses. Besides that we’ve become quiet efficient at running a kingdom, since we’ve been doing it for some time now.”

This time the King himself looked a bit incredulous. “How long would that be?”

“Ten years. How about you?” Her smile was still sweet, but the King was not fooled.

“Careful there, my Lady.” His voice had a reminder.

“I apologize, my King. I was just asking.” Her face gave nothing. “We can also teach the children their letters and numbers.”

This apparently was way too shocking for everybody present and the King seemed positively baffled by the offer. “Teach the children?”

“Yes, Your Grace. All the children in Narnia know how to read and basic Math.” She informed him. She chose not to say that those “children” were actually talking animals, since she didn’t know if they had those here.

“Why?” The redhead asked.

“Why not?” Susan offered back. “Educated children become more efficient adults. It is a better form of making sure that news and messages get everywhere and places are run more efficiently.”

The King still didn’t seem convinced by her argument. “Anything else?”

Susan knew she shouldn’t, but she was tired of being accused of absolutely nothing, but still treated like some kind of criminal. “Unless you wish to order me to warm your bed, Your Grace, no, nothing else.” She didn’t exactly snap at him, but it was a close call.

The King became perfectly still for a minute, and all the others seemed to hold their breath. Susan knew she had said smoothing beyond stupid and thoughtless but now it was too late. “You are lucky, my Lady…” He started slowly, his voice as cold as ice. “That I am not the kind of man that would hold you to that offer.”

Susan took a deep breath and bowed gracefully. “I am truly sorry, Your Grace, my words were beyond inappropriate.” Her apology was sincere, mostly because she had to fix the mess she herself had made. “But as much as I understand your worry as a King responsible for the welfare of so many people, I ask that you understand my frustration and worry as my family and I are facing judgement, even though we’ve done nothing.”

He stared at her for a long minute in complete silence. Susan looked back, unflinching.

“Ser Davos.” He called, without taking his eyes off her.

“Your Grace?” The older man took a step forward.

“Bring the others.” He ordered, finally breaking his gaze. “Ask Brienne and Tormund to accompany you.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” The man left and Susan had to stand there in silence with all of them staring at her.

But if this brute was thinking it would affect her, he was out of his mind. She would show him the true meaning of being a royal.

So she just straightened her back and waited.

Notes: So... There we go.

Oh, by the way, this work is also on my AO3 account, and it has more chapters there. So if you are interested in more, come visit me here. 

Cheers!

[hookaroo]

A Captain’s Heart (20 of 34?)

Chapter 1 Chapter 19

Rated T for language and graphic descriptions of injuries.

Also on FF.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12937105/1/A-Captain-s-Heart

Tagging @therooksshiningknight & @killian-whump by request :)

The garbled voices were not matching up at all with the rhythm pounding through Killian’s brain. It should not have been so disturbing to him. But for whatever reason, it was. Enough that it drew him out of the blackness to which he clung so desperately. He just wanted to sleep, damn it; was that so much to ask for?

As sensations trickled back - everywhere below the shoulders because he was stubbornly refusing to acknowledge anything higher - Killian noticed a hand wrapped around his own. Another, rubbing his back. He was lying on his side, somewhere hard, somewhere cold. Uncomfortable. Except for the part of him that didn’t exist at present. That was being cradled gently, resting on a lap. Emma’s?

Confirming that would mean opening his eyes. Which would certainly make everything hurt worse.

More words slurred through the air, voices unrecognizable and uncountable. Made-up phrases. Speaking backwards. Or something. Killian stopped trying. Deciphering was way beyond his current capacity.

Touch was dangerous. Sight impossible. Hearing out of the question. So… smell? Therein may lie a clue. He cautiously deepened his breaths, paying specific attention. As much as he was capable, at any rate.

Ocean. Obvious. And unhelpful. And the deep breaths were only contributing to his whale-sized headache.

Killian failed to interpret the sound coming from beside him for what it was: a warning. He vaguely connected it with a cry of protest, but by then it was too late, and he was being hauled roughly up by the elbow as he moaned and tried to hold onto the contents of his stomach. He made no attempt to straighten on his own. His head lolled forward, eyes shut tightly against the pain in his skull. By force, he was set upright on wobbly legs that would have collapsed beneath him had he not been propped between two other beings. They smelled like orange and mint. Blossoms and vinegar. Sulfurous, burning hair. Killian’s gut lurched again.

“...r feet, Captain Jones. There’s work to be done.”

Killian reached for his face, intent on massaging the ache from his eyes, but the person beneath his arm was blocking the path.

So. He could distinguish words again.

“Gotohell,” he mumbled, tasting for the first time the metallic salt of blood in his mouth. He was talking toward the deck at his feet, not the woman before him, but he didn’t care in the slightest.

“I could,” she answered casually. “But you’ve wrecked the place.”

There was nothing for it. He had to see what he was dealing with. Who it could possibly be. And who else was here with him: Marvel or Emma. He had to open his eyes.

One eye. That would do. Killian winced and peeled an eyelid back, just a bit, just enough to squint painfully at the boards beneath him. Making out, through watering gaze, three sets of feet, plus a fourth facing them. And bloodstained knees in the background. Killian waited for the dizziness to settle, the fuzziness to sharpen, even as a stake drove through his temple deep into his brain, vibrating shocks accompanying each heartbeat.

It took massive effort, but Killian managed to raise his head. He forced his pained groan into a tense chuckle, plastering on a disdainful sneer as he blearily studied the lady before him.

For several heartbeats, he blamed concussion for the fuzziness of her outlines, but the rest of the scene appeared normal enough. It was like she wasn’t quite solid, like her very flesh wobbled on wind eddies so that one could never say for sure whether she were tall or short, rounded or slender. Hair, skin, and robes would not settle on a single hue or style; they morphed seamlessly from one to another, sometimes complementary, more often clashing. Killian found his nausea intensifying the longer he watched and soon had to look away.

“Don't believe I’ve had the pleasure,” grunted Killian, squeezing both eyes for a moment at a sudden spike in pain.

“You, dearest mortal, are standing in the presence of Eris, Goddess of Discord and Chaos. You may call me Goddess or Your Holiness; either one will do.”

“Bloody hell,” complained the pirate. “Thought I was done with you lot.”

Eris stepped closer, a haughty air about her. “Is that the appropriate reaction when meeting your deity? I thought you would be more excited, considering how long you’ve been promoting my cause.”

Killian squinted at her blankly. The bump to the head must have slowed his mental acuity, for he hadn’t the slightest clue to what she referred. She sighed.

“Anarchy? Mayhem? Random slaughter? All very much my passion and your life’s work.”

Killian couldn’t bring himself to protest, even if he wasn’t that man anymore. He was too damn woozy. “Fine. Granted. Can we skip to the demands, please? And then the part where you magically restore my cranium in thanks for the chaos thing?”

The goddess put a finger to her lower lip, tapping as she scrutinized him. Then, with an impish grin, she shook her head. “This is quite a good look for you, Captain. Painted red, all askew, only one eye open. I hate symmetry, you know.” Her gaze fell upon his hook where it rested on her henchman’s shoulder. “And that is why you’re my favorite mortal. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that everyone should have one. Because that would be too much conformity. But what a lovely example of deviation.”

If Killian’s head hadn’t hurt so much, he would have rolled his eyes. As it was, he merely sighed. “You’re too kind.”

A quiet shuffle from behind him brought Killian’s attention back to his most pressing concern. Bracing himself for the inevitable pain and vertigo that would surely result, he twisted as much as he could to look rearward. A quick glimpse of auburn was enough, and he turned back, grimacing.

“Marvel? You all right, love?”

“I’m not hurt, Captain.” Her voice was small, uncertain.

“And her,” gushed Eris. She shivered in exaggerated ecstasy. “Such a beautiful anomaly.”

Killian didn’t care for this goddess’ tone. “Be that as it may… I would dearly love to know what the hell is going on here. And where’s Emma? Is she okay?”

Eris shrugged dismissively. “Your magic-wielding wife is quite safe back on the mortal realm’s beach. Out of my way, no threat to my plans.”

Feeling marginally more stable, Killian wrenched his arms off the shoulders of the two men flanking him. They allowed the action, but each put a restraining hand around the closest bicep. Wearily, the pirate ran his hand along his eyes. “And what plans would those be, then?”

“You’re going to help me with a bit of mischief I have in mind. Or rather, give me the means to successfully achieve the mischief.”

“Am I?” growled Killian. “I don’t recall volunteering my time and service to you. Just what is it I’m meant to be doing?”

“All in good time,” the goddess promised. “But first… this is for your part in the organization of the Underworld.”

She lifted a finger and a sudden blast of magic slammed into Killian’s cheek, a strike that combined the sting of a slap and the bruising force of a punch without causing any pain to Eris. Killian’s head snapped back, and if it weren’t for the brutes gripping his arms tightly, he likely would have toppled to the deck. Growling, the pirate waited for his battered brain to stop rattling in his skull before facing the goddess once more. He slitted one eye open and snarled,

“I merely helped to restore that cursed place to its rightful state of being. Zeus-”

“Stuffy old Zeus. Yes, I know his designs. How it was meant to be. But it was so much better under Hades’ rule. So much more suffering. People trapped for centuries, or better yet, lost forever in the River of Souls. All this ‘moving on’ business is much too procedural for my taste.”

Killian gently pressed the back of his hand against the throb; a trickle of fresh blood mingled with the dried caked on his cheek. “I thought Zeus rules you all.”

Eris scoffed. “He thinks he does. He’s got far less control than his deluded followers believe. Next.”

She cooly appraised her captive, and Killian stood unflinching, refusing to cower even under the threat of that one word.

“Neverland. A wondrous place with its feral children and savage king. My second favorite in all the realms, until you helped tame it.”

“That was hardly my-”

An invisible fist closed around his airway and he could protest no further. Automatically, he reached for his throat, but it was no more effective than any of the previous dozen times he’d been choked by magic. Following an invisible prompt by their boss, the two guards released him and stepped aside.

“I quite miss the wilds of that island. This is for Neverland.”

This time, the blast drove into his middle and he was instantly on his knees, doubled over. Still unable to breathe, but for an altogether different reason now. He heard Marvel whimper a protest and felt her hands on his back. Eris did not try to stop her, an omission for which Killian was grateful. He had enough to worry about without the goddess pouring out her wrath on Marvel as well.

Struggling past the inevitable panic of having had the wind knocked out of him, Killian was finally able to suck in a painful breath. As he clutched his brace against an aching abdomen, he panted with his eyes shut, all the while frantically seeking a way to escape. Eris and her men waited quietly. She seemed in no hurry to further the conversation.

“Anything else?” wheezed Killian. He squinted up at her but was forced to lower his gaze when the stabbing pain in his head became too great. “Black Fairy? Evil Queen? The bloody Dark One? Any other obsessions I’ve disrupted?”

“Small fish,” she answered, bored. “Although… now that you mention it… I am rather disappointed in your decision to align yourself with Good and Law. You made such an excellent villain. So for that…”

No magic this time. Her roundhouse kick caught him in the jaw, just below where it hinged with his skull. The force of impact drove him sideways and back, out of Marvel’s reach. He sprawled on his right elbow and hip, sliding along the boards, and for a long moment, everything was consumed by pain and darkness.

[ganymedesclock]

A question about your Lance meta - you keep calling Lance the heart of Voltron but isn't Allura herself the heart of Voltron? Like Lance himself calls her the heart in show

You don’t think it’s a titch ironic that someone would call another person the heart while providing them with emotional certainty and support?

To be a bit more direct, what Lance is explicitly saying is this is the role of the Blue Paladin. He prefaces it by saying “The Blue Lion chose you for a reason” implying everything that follows is what Blue seeks in a paladin.

My personal take on the whole Lion choices is that the first paladin they chose reflects their virtues the most clearly. Thus, with the information that the Blue Paladin is the heart of the team, it makes sense that Lance, who was Blue’s first choice, embodies those virtues to the core.

Furthermore, I would argue that Allura is essential to Voltron, but she’s not the heart. Not the way that’s usually conceptualized in ensemble shows. So let’s talk character roles for a second.

Simply enough, protagonists have a tendency to come in sets of five, and, they fall roughly along these lines.

There’s the Leader. This is usually the main character. When you see people assuming the Black Paladin is the most/only important character, that’s because they’re falling into this cognitive trap. The Leader is virtually always the face of the team and the final decision maker, the one who is thematically opposed to the main villain, and usually the show is named after them.

The leader has a Right Hand. Virtually always, a dynamic force who thematically opposes the Leader. If the Leader is fiery, passionate, and tactless, the Right Hand will be a cool, aloof perfectionist. If the Leader is compassionate, the Right Hand is callous. They’re set up as a significant foil. This sense of opposition basically means that they usually walk a fine line between the Leader’s best friend and worst enemy.

Then, there’s the Brains. While the Leader and Right Hand are usually more flexible, able to accommodate a wide variety of characters, Brains is a bit more rigid- they are, in short, the intellectual, the cognitive, They-Who-Exposit. Usually fits some manner of nerd stereotype and is often framed as lacking in “street smarts” or social skills.

The second skill-defined character is the Brawn. Sometimes stoic and honorable, sometimes bloodthirsty and brash. Usually the physically largest member of the team and defined by strength. Sometimes set up as an opposition to the Brains as someone with more “practical” skills versus the erudite manner of Brains.

And then, of course, the Heart. The Heart is the compassionate, emotional, nurturing member of the team. If there’s a healer, it’s probably them. While this sounds wonderful... it’s worth noting the Heart is one of the most chronically disrespected roles in the hero team. Virtually always, if you have a hero team with only one girl, she’s the Heart. There’s often a point made that the Heart is weaker than all of their associates, has less cool abilities, and struggles with feeling useless or not being able to keep up.

Keep in mind that TVTropes, which, for better and for worse, reflects popular media attitudes pretty well, calls this role “The Chick” and defines it thusly:

The "feminine", "spiritual", and "heart", aspect of the Five-Man Band... and generally the only woman.

It's the people she gathers and keeps at her side who'll do a lot of the heavy lifting. She'll encourage loyalty and teamwork, give them the courage or hope to unlock their true potential, be a Token Good Teammate that keeps her friends from Jumping Off the Slippery Slope. She's usually a Nice Girl, but her demeanor can go anywhere from shy and demure, to brave and adventurous. She is rarely The Heroine of a story.

Her functional role will often be The Heart, the social influence of the group. Sometimes this means she'll serve as the Team Mom, taking care of the smaller details, both within the group and in the world outside. She looks after innocents, delivers The Aesop, mediates the arguments, and slaps some sanity on The Lancer before he ends up getting too dark. It's not the coolest job in the world, but it's helpful.

Note the implications: passiveness, especially in the sense that, when written poorly, this character sacrifices their own emotional depth to be a sounding board, support, and voice of reason for the entire rest of the team. At a glance, they’re flattered by being treated as so mature and wise, where their only “problem” is not being able to help enough- but, like I said. I think that the Heart is probably the single most widely disrespected hero out of this formation. 

Their work is devalued and they’re are often regarded as far more passive than they really are. This is especially true in more individualistic stories, because the Heart is in essence defined by being not just a team player, but the team player. So they’re treated as someone who “settles” or is less ambitious than their peers.

Now, I think because the Heart is, for lack of a better word, traditionally feminine, pretty much every previous incarnation of Voltron has had Allura in this role.

In prior versions of Voltron, the formation went like this:

Keith was the Leader, with Lance as his Right Hand. They usually contrasted in that Keith was the calmer and more sensitive one, while Lance is virtually always the literal and figurative hothead. Pidge and Hunk slotted into Brains and Brawn, this left first Sven (for his incredibly brief tenure on the team), then Allura, as Heart.

Here’s the thing: VLD is a complete departure from that setup on the most fundamental level of how these characters were conceptualized.

Shiro is the clear and obvious Leader archetype. Thematically he’s set as Zarkon’s rival, much emphasis and significance is placed on his relationship with the Black Lion. And he has multiple connections to the team and to the conflict, which is significant, when...

Keith is an equally obvious Right Hand. Again, it’s worth noting his prior incarnations, which have held Shiro’s position, are far more levelheaded, sometimes to the point of being stoic and hard to read. When the Leader archetype is a joining thread to the team, Keith, in a much more classic Right Hand manner, largely defines his position on the team by his loyalty to Shiro- and his connections with the team, and his ability to lead and inspire them, is incredibly tenuous.

Pidge and Hunk are the only ones who have remained in their usually established roles of Brain and Brawn- in this case, playing up not the difference in intelligence versus brute strength, but, the difference between highly cognitive, erudite, stereotypical intelligence versus highly tactile, practical, and even artistic intelligence. (Look at the careful presentation and flair Hunk puts into his cooking, for example)

(I’ll get back to Lance)

Now, when the formation changes in s3e1, I would say that people’s narrative roles actually don’t change as much as they appear to.

What appears to happen is that Keith becomes the Leader, Lance the Right Hand, and Allura steps up as the Heart. This is what would be implied by Lance telling Allura this in s4e6.

But remember, the Lions are arguably connected to these roles- and our heroes are limited by how much they can act like this given role.

Keith is shown to be repeatedly frustrated by Black, demanding answers they do not give, struggling to maneuver their larger and heavier body. He’s framed as unworthy of the Leader mantle as illustrated partially by the fact that the other two Leader figures- Zarkon and Lotor- both have very disproportionate fights with Keith, in which both are shown to utterly dismiss Keith, and not just in a, “I am evil and greater than you” manner, but, in that they do not, in any meaningful thematic manner, recognize him as a rival, nor does he give them any reason to. (more on that, here)

Rather... the person who steps into the Leader mantle, who emerges central to plot lines, and is the one person acknowledged by Lotor (again, when the Leader is often defined strongly by their role as the equal-and-opposite to the “head” of antagonist forces)?

It’s Allura’s armor, Allura’s obtaining of the Blue Bayard, that’s given screentime when we don’t see Lance or Keith obtain their respective new bayards. It’s Allura who turns the tide in s3e2 by allying with Blue, Allura who fends off Lotor and rescues the team in s3e3- and in s3e4, it’s Allura who has a personal reason for challenging Hira and gets a big dramatic fight with her when everyone else is, uh, football tackling each other. And, reading more speculative... it’s incredibly likely that Lotor, who emerges as the main antagonist of s3, is a ghost from Allura’s past, one who she has a connection to even more than implied by their subtle “honor duel” on Thayserix.

When Shiro vanishes in s3, Keith remains a Right Hand figure. If anything, he doubles down on his aspect working with Black, embodying the traits that are so stereotypically a Right Hand thing- the risk of going too far, losing control and focus and getting everyone in trouble, obviously destabilized without his appropriate counterpart of the Leader.

Instead, it’s Allura that rises to the Leader position. Who is defined by her nobility, strength of will, and intimate connection to the overarching conflict of the show.

Now... where is Allura heavily shown to struggle- on many occasions?

S1e2- Allura decides the best way to unite and motivate her team is, in Coran’s words, “[be] really, really mean to him.”

S1e4- Allura attempts to get Pidge to open up to her in probably the least reassuring manner possible.

S1e10- Allura makes plan based on the assumption that her team will leave her to her doom for the sake of the greater good, genuinely thinks this is a smart idea and definitely won’t get shot to hell by these heroic dorks.

S2e1- Allura is manifestly bad with children.

S2e3-thru-s2e8 (Blade of Marmora plotline)- Allura has significant trust issues that, while entirely understandable, weaken the team and make their connecting with a powerful potential ally very difficult.

S3e1- Allura is frustrated by and struggles with the idea of engaging in pleasantries rather than “serious business about the protection of the universe?”

S4e4- Allura is very bad at acting.

Allura’s Vlog- by her own admission, she had to learn to be a diplomat, even though this is something her culture prioritizes.

This isn’t a complete list, per se- but there’s a clear thing here.

Where Blue’s role in Voltron is defined heavily by empathy, emotions, interpersonal bonds, and connecting with others, Allura is not a sentimental team-mom nurturer. She’s an amazing, essential person with some incredible talents and skills, and, like I said, the writing does the furthest thing from disregarding her.

But Allura shares the Leader position with Shiro. As mentioned, where the Leader often is directly opposed by a main antagonist, at the head of the empire are two equals in power: Zarkon and Haggar. Shiro thematically is Zarkon’s equal and opposite, and the two have their dramatic showdowns, but Allura has her own rival- Haggar, and they’ve had their own brawls of magical might.

The point is that Allura is not merely defined as something other than the Heart, she’s shown frequently to fail at the things that are the integral qualities of the Heart.

Now... conversely... I think we’ve left Lance hanging long enough.

Let’s bring back what I said about the Heart, shall we?

The Heart is the compassionate, emotional, nurturing member of the team. If there’s a healer, it’s probably them. While this sounds wonderful... it’s worth noting the Heart is one of the most chronically disrespected roles in the hero team. Virtually always, if you have a hero team with only one girl, she’s the Heart. There’s often a point made that the Heart is weaker than all of their associates, has less cool abilities, and struggles with feeling useless or not being able to keep up.

Lance:

Out of a whole team of people dealing with emotional issues, Lance is by far the most stable and the most prone to discussing his issues before they blow up.

Relationships with other people are a major preoccupation for him. Consider one of the major things he talks about frequently is that he wants to make a romantic connection- not just “obtain hot girlfriend” but as he discusses in s2e2 and his vlog, he’s actually looking for someone more like a soulmate- he only wants to make a connection that will be incredibly meaningful and lifelong, but he’s easily charmed by people being happy or enjoying his presence.

Of the team, he’s the only character who forms an obvious emotional relationship with every other member, in the case of Coran and Allura, within seconds of meeting them. Also with both Coran and Allura, Lance is the first to interact with them.

He flat-out has an obvious struggle in s1 and s2 with “not having a thing”, feeling like everyone else has neatly defined roles and contributions, and actually carefully interrupts Allura and distracts her right before she lists Blue’s virtues.

On that note- Lance is shown to have such a keen sense of feelings and other people that he’s able to flat-out manipulate situations by inducing certain emotions at key points. What I mentioned with Allura he did before, in almost the exact same manner, to take Iverson’s attention off Pidge. He very specifically annoyed the person at a key moment so they’d be frustrated with him and forget what they were talking about before.

Also, in s4e4, Lance is the only good actor on Team Voltron! In both that episode and prior events, Lance is the one who has a good sense of “the show” and is putting on a consistently good performance.

Lance’s weapon is even, to me, a pretty blatant allusion to his status as the Heart rather than the Right Hand. Force- which did characterize Lance as a Right Hand figure, also gave him guns, but they were simple pistols designed to accommodate a very independent, up-close-and-personal fighting style which supplemented his shots with a lot of brawling, frequently putting him literally back to back with swordsman Keith.

However, in VLD, Lance’s weapon is a long-range rifle and his specialty is precision sniping. In action, we see Lance sweeping the battlefield, not hunting the single top-priority targets and taking them out, but, rather, repeatedly checking on his allies and offering precise assistance where it’s needed.

Lance fights, and thinks, like someone whose first priority is supporting others. And his big hero moment in s4e6? He’s not the one doing the glowing superpower boost that saves everyone. That’s Allura.

But Lance is the one who made it happen. It’s Lance who put personal glory second, who defined his own virtues in the same moment he verbally gives them to someone else.

It’s Lance... whose growth as a hero seems to have, as one of its major plot points, setting aside his desire for personal glory to focus on being there for other people, not because he isn’t important, but, because time and time again, he’s shown to do better and be happier when he’s not doing things for personal reputation.

And this is actively framed with the Lions: when Lance is trying to have his “moment”, Black ignores him. When Lance makes the move to support Keith because this is what Keith, and the entire team, needs at the moment, Red- the difficult to please, stubborn Lion, declares that Lance is worthy and calls for him without Lance having ever even presented himself to Red as a candidate.

Because ultimately, Lance was the Heart all along. His strongest actions, his emergence as a true hero, comes from his compassion and comes from his awareness of emotions. And to me- I think the writers are actually setting up a really interesting analysis of the historical devaluing of the Heart role- about how much Lance seems to try to avoid acknowledging his actual heroic qualities.

And how much Lance specifically tries to emulate the classic sort of Suave Casanova, Ruggedly Heterosexual Hero Man- when again, his true position as a hero is very stereotypically feminine. With the obvious implication being- Lance knows what kind of person he really is, and he knows that this is viewed as “unmanly”, “passive”, “weak”.

But these qualities are embodied by a fifth of Voltron. They’re qualities that, in this setting, are written in the stars as the domain of heroes. Not just part of the strongest force in existence- but one of the two things that literally holds the Defender of the Universe aloft.

[that-elegant-captain-blog]

So I just heard a crazy theory. We all know in the original story, Peter killed any lost boy that grew up. But people say that the few who survived became the pirates. Does that mean Hook was the first lost boy to survive growing up in Neverland? And he is so insistent on getting the current lost boys to join his crew because he knows what will happen to them? It would explain why Hook hates Pan so much. What di you think?

{ Disclaimer: Please do not take any of the following to be stated in an irritated manner even if it may sound like it because I am tired of someone’s theory being instantly accepted I don’t even know who started it but I do know there is only ONE line it’s based off of and it’s just an example of how someone can start something and everyone who likes the sound of it jumps on the bandwagon even if there’s little actual evidence. Accepting something without doing a bit of research first is ridiculously common about not just stories but serious real life things too and it hurts me.

WITH THAT BEING SAID, I respect that some like to look at stories through a darker light. That’s your opinion and you can do/theorize/say ‘AU where’ however much you wish, that’s fine! That’s your right just like everyone else who thinks/takes different things away from stories or rps! But when it’s still a theory/assumption, people like me who look at it through a less depressing view point do not appreciate it being spread around as an indisputable fact.

So, first of all, the concept that Peter killed Lost Boys that grew up is based off of this line from the original novel, “The boys on the island vary, ofcourse, in numbers, according as they get killed andso on; and when they seem to be growing up, whichis against the rules, Peter thins them out; but atthis time there were six of them, counting the twinsas two.” The definition of ‘thin out’, according to the free dictionary online, is “make sparse” or “to become sparser”, and some of the examples are to reduce, decrease, diminish. While you could assume the worse from that, it does not blatantly declare murder. I read a comment from here once that basically states my own thoughts, so I will quote them.

“To address your original question, “thins them out” clearly means reducing their ranks like thinning out a herd of animals, but metaphorically, this could mean anything.  It could just as likely refer to them being killed by pirates, or leaving Neverland upon growing up, or being banished or shunned, etc.  While it does sound ominous and a bit disturbing, it’s vague enough to leave the details to the reader’s imagination (typical Barrie, yes?).  While it’s been a while since I’ve read it, I don’t think there’s anything else in the book that truly suggests that Peter is doing in his cohorts.“ –porsche

The rest of their comment is good too if you want to read it, but I’m not going to quote the whole thing.

Now, in addition to that, I will mention some Peter Pan in Scarlet spoilers. I do so because it is the only novel ever authorized by Great Ormond Street Hospitalto carry on the original story. If you do not want spoilers, skip over this paragraph. In PPiS, the author actually goes into this subject of the Lost Boys growing up. The main characters in this sequel actually encounter the boys who are now grown, feel betrayed because Peter banished them from his band, and have become the Roarers. He did not kill them for growing older, he just threw them out of his club basically. Also, to start moving into the question of if Hook was a Lost Boy, Wendy actually ASKS HIM IF HE WAS A Lost Boy once, and Hook responds, “Certainly not! By no means, miss! No! No no. I am not. Most certainly not.” To be honest, that sounds like he was not only answering perfectly sincerely, but he seems offended by the idea.

To answer your actual questions, “Does that mean Hook was the first lost boy to survive growing up in Neverland?” No, Hook himself says he was not a Lost Boy, nor does Barrie ever imply it in novel or play as far as I know. If I am mistaken, I know @concordia-cum-insolitas will correct me because she has read more of Barrie’s actual notes and such outside of his published works, and if she does correct me I will edit this post appropriately.

“And he is so insistent on getting the current lost boys to join his crew because he knows what will happen to them?” Unlike Disney Hook, who is shown to be rather merciful both in offering ALL the Lost Boys a place in his crew, offering to spare Sora and co. in Kingdom Hearts, saving Roxas and Peter in the 358/2 days manga, and some other examples, book Hook was only going to allow TWO of the Lost Boys to join. Not all. Two. The rest were walking the plank. Book Hook is not as generous as Disney’s. He is not secretly a misunderstood hero trying to protect them from Pan. NOW THAT DOES NOT MEAN I think it impossible that some of the Lost Boys who grew up may have in fact joined his crew at some point, but there is no evidence in Barrie’s writings that I know of. A few of the Roarers in PPiS did work for him, though, so that’s why I definitely do not dismiss the idea. But Hook is never implied to be trying to rescue them from Pan.

“It would explain why Hook hates Pan so much.“ Okay I know this is not a question but I’m still going to talk about it. Rather than rambling, I’m just going to quote some things from the original book.

“Most of all,” Hook wassaying passionately, “I want their captain,Peter Pan.  ’Twas he cut off my arm.” He brandished the hook threateningly.  “I’vewaited long to shake his hand with this.”

This is one of the most commonly known reasons for his hatred: Pan cut off his freakin hand and he wants revenge.

“I have often,” said Smee,“noticed your strange dread of crocodiles.”“Not of crocodiles,” Hookcorrected him, “but of that one crocodile.” He lowered his voice. “It liked my armso much, Smee, that it has followed me ever since,from sea to sea and from land to land, licking itslips for the rest of me.”“In a way,” said Smee, “it’ssort of a compliment.”“I want no such compliments,”Hook barked petulantly.  “I want Peter Pan,who first gave the brute its taste for me.”

Another commonly known reason: after removing said hand, he threw it to crocodile. Hook is not exactly happy to have the critter following him around wanting to eat him, thus he blames Pan for this too and is pretty ticked off about it.

When Hook has captured Lost Boys and Darlings and slipped into the home under the ground to poison Peter, this takes place just before:

“[..] and, let it be frankly admitted, the idyllic natureof the scene stirred him profoundly.  Masteredby his better self he would have returned reluctantlyup the tree, but for one thing.What stayed him was Peter’simpertinent appearance as he slept.  The openmouth, the drooping arm, the arched knee:  theywere such a personification of cockiness as, takentogether, will never again, one may hope, be presentedto eyes so sensitive to their offensiveness.  Theysteeled Hook’s heart.  If his rage had brokenhim into a hundred pieces every one of them wouldhave disregarded the incident, and leapt at the sleeper.“

Also, Barrie writes this during the Mermaid Lagoon shenanigans:

“Against such fearful evidence itwas not their belief in him that he needed, it washis own.  He felt his ego slipping from him.”

Possibly the lesser known reason of these: Pan enrages him with his arrogance, and frequently injuries his pride. Pride and cockiness are mentioned multiple times as important to and traits of both Peter and Hook, and Barrie makes it pretty clear that they fought from the moment they met because of it, so it seems quite likely that Jas. despised him even before losing his hand. Add loss of hand and crocodile on top of mockery and humiliation, and you have a very grudge-baring, bitter pirate man bent on vengeance.

I could find more examples, but I think that summarizes/answers everything and clarifies well enough without me making this post any longer than it has already gotten. Again, do not think I am angry or minded answering this! I just wanted to straighten out some things, and if that came off as being done in a grumpy way I do apologize, it was not intended.

[sabitherunt-blog]

Sooo I posted this on Ao3 but also going to post it here. Enjoy!

The Listener's Keeper

Greetings Sister

  Cicero quietly stalked the deserted alleyway, the muffle spell placed on his boots making detection near impossible. He was silent, deadly, and with purpose. He'd been tracking his latest contract for nearly two hours, waiting for the precise moment to strike.

  Ahead of him, the Altmer mage swayed drunkenly back and forth causing the assassin to nearly chuckle to himself. The poor fool had no idea death was approaching. It would be sad if it wasn't so funny.

  Cicero shifted his weight, careful not to make a sound, and began to stride forward. His blade was once more ready to taste flesh, to send another soul to the Dark Lord. Coiled like a deadly snake, ready to strike, Cicero inched forward.

  Out of nowhere, a scream rang out from a nearby backstreet. Cicero froze, blade merely inches from his target. He looked at the mage but the sod hadn't moved. Once more the assassin raised his dagger, prepared to strike, and once more he was made to freeze. Another scream, louder this time.

  It almost sounds like a child.

  Cicero cocked his head as more screams flooded through the dark alleys. Whomever it was, it was most unlikely anyone would care to help, especially in this area of the city. He almost pitied the poor soul but dismissed these thoughts. It was no concern of his. He had a contact to complete and a purpose to fulfill.

  He frowned. Why was he still standing here? Why hadn't he done the deed? And why the hell was he feeling such an urgent need to investigate what was going on? He was a highly trained assassin for Sithis' sake! Not some do-gooder vigilante!

  Stifling a growl of irritation, Cicero sprung into action. Faster than lighting he had one gloved hand over the old mage's mouth, the other drawing the ebony dagger across his throat. The assassin felt a twinge of regret at not being able to savor the kill fully but he would have to be satisfied with simply knowing he had done his job.

  Duty done, Cicero sheathed his blade and turned, making his way hurriedly through the maze of back alleys, following the commotion and the echoes of crying. He was lithe and quick and he knew he was getting closer when he heard another scream for help. This time he was certain the cries were from a child and he picked up his pace, careful not to give himself away.

  Just then, as he was beginning to round the next corner, he heard an angry shout from someone other than the child, followed by a blood curdling shriek of pure agony. Cicero felt his heart thunder in his chest, why he wasn't sure, nothing shook him, but for some strange reason he actually felt worry and worse, fear.

  He turned the corner and felt his blood run cold. Ahead of him was a large Argonian male, his scales a horrid greenish black, drunkenly brandishing a knife, and the source of the screaming, a small Khajiit child. The brute had the tiny thing hoisted up against a nearby wall and was hissing curses at her. And there was blood, quite a bit of it, but Cicero could not tell where it was coming from.

  Cicero saw red. White hot rage filled his entire body and without a second thought he was racing forward, dagger drawn and ready for the taste of more blood. Without any hesitation he buried his blade at the base of the Argonian's skull, severing the beast's spinal cord. There was no sound, no crying out, just the sound of the large oaf's body hitting the ground. Cicero grinned. Two souls in one night, how pleased his Dark Father must be.

  Pulling his dagger free, Cicero rolled the corpse over, catching sight of a set of claw marks across the lizard's face. He smirked. It looked as if the cat had fought back. He kicked the body away, then turned his attention on the frightened child that was huddling against the wall.

  She was a tiny little thing, a runt really, with pitch black fur darker than the void. Her piercing blue eyes were like twin daggers, causing the assassin to pause. It lasted but a moment though once he noticed her bloodstained skirts. He quickly searched for the source and felt his stomach turn once he found it.

  The small child's tail, barely holding on by a piece of flesh. He could tell immediately it wasn't salvageable but the poor thing would most likely bleed to death before she could reach help.

  Acting quickly, Cicero ripped off his hood, not caring she would see his face, before stripping off his upper armor. He hastily used his dagger to cut the fabric into strips, wadding up most of it and placing it over the wound. The small Khajiit hissed in pain and made to move away but Cicero held tight.

  "Stop," he commanded, voice dropping low. "Do as I say or otherwise you will bleed to death."

  The child paused and stared at him. His tone brooked no argument and slowly she nodded.

  His lip twitched slightly and he changed his tone to be slightly gentler.

  "Good. Now I need you to put pressure on the wound for me. Just like I am. We have to slow the blood flow."

  Again the child nodded, her tiny hands coming up and replacing his. She whimpered but held her tail tightly, just as Cicero instructed. He nodded before taking another strip of fabric and tying a tourniquet just below the injury. He tightened it as much as possible before taking the last bit of fabric and rolling it into a ball. He then held it in front of her. She stared at him confused and he sighed.

  "Open your mouth," he commanded. She tilted her head and began to protest. "Now!" He snapped. His sharp tone caused her to jump but she obeyed and opened her mouth, sharp fangs glinting in the moonlight. He placed the ball in her mouth, instructing her to hold on to it. He then pulled out his dagger and her eyes went wide.

  "Don't look, little one."

  Her eyes slammed shut immediately and she pressed her face into her knees. He felt his stomach knot as he gingerly brushed her hands away from her tail. He didn't like this but there weren't really any other options.   Praying to Sithis that this worked, he gripped the tail tightly, just below where it was still holding together, and cleanly cut the last bit of flesh, severing her tail completely

  Immediately he dropped his dagger and caught the tiny child as she lurched forward. She struggled weakly against him but he held her tight, listening to her muffled cries of pain. She shook violently and he knew she was going into shock. Hurriedly he placed one hand over the fresh wound and began casting a small healing spell. He wasn't the most proficient in magic but he knew enough to get by. Finally he felt a swell of relief as he felt the skin start to mend and heal.

  Releasing her, he fished out a small health potion and uncorked it. She didn't have the strength to take it so Cicero held her chin and pressed it to her lips. He almost smiled when he felt her begin to lap at it, slowly drinking it down. Several minutes passed but it finally seemed to kick in and the youngster started to stir.

  She shifted, her newly bobbed tail flicking widely, and she stared at it curiously. Cicero had to stifle a laugh at her bewildered expression. She looked up to him, eyeing him cautiously before dropping her gaze to the ground.

  The assassin began to stand, he had been exposed for to long, and gathered up what was left of his shirt. This was going to be tough to explain to Rasha but he doubted it would matter much seeing as how he had completed his contract successfully. The devil was in the details. Turning to leave though, something caught his eye.

  Cicero's breath caught in his throat. Dangling off a chain situated around the child's neck was an amulet of Sithis. He quickly dropped down and took it between his fingers, watching the moonlight dance off it. These were very rare, even among the Brotherhood. His own had been a gift from a dear friend during his first days as an initiate. He looked up at the child, her bright blues eyes almost familiar, and then back at the amulet.He twisted it this way and that until a small inscription caught his eye.

  Hail Sithis!

  Two simple words and yet they held more meaning than anyone could possibly know. This had once belonged to his friend, his dark sister, Baset. He looked up at the youngster once more and he could see it. He could see that familiar feralness, that sharpness he remembered her for. This child must be hers.

  Another revelation hit him. Not only was this little girl Baset's child, but she must also be the reason Baset fled in the first place. A million different emotions went through him at once. How could Baset not have told him? Surely she could trust him. The Brotherhood was not known for having children in their ranks but it was not unheard of. Surely Baset knew the child would have been well cared for, loved even, and would not have wanted for anything. She most certainly wouldn't have been attacked by some drunken slob.

  Cicero shook his head. He needed to speak to Baset himself before he said anything to Rasha. But that would be for later. For now he needed to make sure the child was safely returned to her mother.

  Suddenly he realized the little girl was staring at him with open curiosity. He grinned, releasing her necklace, and sat back down.

  "My apologies," he said. "I did not realize I was in the presence of a member of the Brotherhood."

  It was meant as a joke. Such a little thing wouldn't have a clue what he was talking about, but then he saw a flash of recognition in her eyes. Her gaze darted to his armor, his dagger, the corpse of her assailant, and finally back at him.

 "Brother," she said, barely above a whisper.

His eyes widened but so did his smile.

  "Greetings Sister. Tell me, what are you doing out here al-..."

  He didn't get to finish his sentence because the little ball of fluff barreled into him and hugged him tight. Her little arms were wound around him and she was muttering so quickly he couldn't understand what she was saying. He did manage to pick out 'thank you' in the jumble of words and he gently patted her head. After a few moments he extracted himself from her hold and he stood.

  "Anything for a fellow sibling," he told her. She smiled and clambered to her feet. She wobbled a little but she would be okay. She was healed for the most part, at least physically. He fixed her with a stern gaze. "You should be going home. I'm sure your mother is worried sick."

  Her gaze shifted to the corpse nearby before she looked back at him.

  "You're right," she agreed softly. "Thank you again.”

 As she started to leave, Cicero stopped her briefly and placed a gloved finger against his lips.

  “Let us keep our meeting between the two of us,” he told her. He couldn't risk Baset knowing he was looking for her. “It will be our little secret.”

  The child grinned up at him before nodding. He made a shooing motion and she giggled before turning and running off. Cicero waited a moment or so and then began to follow her. He told himself it was only so that he could track down his wayward Sister, but he was lying to himself. After everything she had just been through he wanted to be sure she made it home safe.

  Suddenly he stopped. Something was off. Quickly he reached for where he kept his coin pouch and found it missing. He grinned. Although he had just lost a hundred septims, Cicero couldn’t bring himself to be angry. She was most definitely Baset’s daughter.

  Chuckling to himself, Cicero quickly began walking after the little cat. He slid into the darkness once more, and disappeared into the shadows.

Eek! My very first fanfic ever! I hope y'all like it. Please leave a comment if you do. Any feedback is greatly appreciated.