Admittedly, I do get lowkey annoyed when people exclusively refer to Arthur's problems as "mommy issues" and it's difficult to explain why without writing a mile long post

10 Ways the Loki show Disappointed Me

part two

6) The trailer was misleading advertising. Marvel’s done it in the past with little to no backlash:

Iron Man 3 presenting the Mandarin as the ultimate foe for Tony to defeat, only to find out he’s a charlatan in a minor role.

Falcon and Winter Soldier was presented as a light-hearted buddy adventure, only to tackle darker themes about nationalism and racism. (Not saying that those themes were bad, just that the TFAWS’s trailer was not truthful to the story).

In the case of Loki, the trailer presented the plot as Loki making time-traveling shenanigans and being captured for breaking the timeline. They included the D.B Cooper clip, and the scenes of Loki in New York and as king in Asgard. These clips never show up in season 1. The D.B Cooper scene was a off-the-cuff moment, and the highly-anticipated (imo) President Loki was around for five minutes.

The trailer shows the storyline being about Loki breaking the timeline, with Mobius saying in a voiceover, “You picked up the tesseract, breaking reality. I want you to help us fix it.”

Marvel’s publicity team knew what story we would want to see from the character. And that’s not what we got: it was a mix of Loki tagging along with Sylvie to take down the Timekeepers, and detective-esque  scenes of trying to overthrow the TimeKeepers. 

It was never about Loki having an adventure, breaking the timeline, and having to fix it.

There’s a difference between having scenes that don’t make it into the final product, between not revealing enough of the story to spoil plot twists...and deliberately choosing certain scenes and quotes  to present a false version of the story.

I guess Marvel was worried that no one would watch it if they showed us the real product.

7)    Loki’s powers were wildly inconsistent, especially compared to what we’ve seen before.

In the past, we’ve seen Loki do illusions, duplication casting and in Thor 2, some very light telekinesis. After hearing of his mother’s death, he throws several pieces of furniture in into the cell walls with his mind. This is after losing the person who probably mattered most to him at the time, and feeling responsible for her death--it’s a powerful move showing his magical capabilities.

In the show, in Episode 3 we see him pull a Roomba towards himself in order to use it as a shield during a fight--pretty in-line with what we saw in the Dark World.

One episode later, an entire flipping tower is falling towards them, and he reverses it with his mind alone.

It was in the face of death, you say. Of course he was going to pull some cool new magical move.

Sure. In the face of death, I could see him jumping from throwing chairs to something heavier, like maybe a crumbling wall or a fruit stand.

BUT A TOWER?

 WHY?

 HOW??

He’s never done anything on that scale magically. In episode 2, he got tossed around by a (human) Alabama man. Why would he not use that move to bring the roof crumbling down if he was fighting for his life then?

So he’s got massive telepathic power when a building is falling but can’t use it in a fight against regular people.... okay?

Honestly, due to the fact that they’ve weakened him so much, and when Loki said, “I think we’re stronger than we realize”, I’m betting Season 2 will include Loki discovering the extent of his magical powers. 

 I don’t like this idea because again, it contradicts the previous canon. In Thor 1, Hogun literally calls Loki a “master of magic”. He went toe-to-toe with Thor and the Avengers and now can’t beat regular humans. A thousand+ year old being unaware of his own untapped potential doesn’t seem correct (yeah, they did that with Thor in Ragnarok, I know).

This Loki’s power levels jump up and down according to the plot, trying to make us believe that due to his spoiled past, Loki needs to apply himself to learn more about his powers.

 8)  Loki was out of character.

His lying and scheming was way too obvious. I was incredibly confused the first couple of episodes because it would be strange how he would be a pathetic buffoon  one minute and yet The only moment I was sold on his competence as a liar was episode 2 at the renaissance fair where he attempts to fool  the TVA. He was actually competent for once, but he gets caught, and goes into apologizing and sucking up 30 seconds later.   

He gets drunk when they’re on the mission on Lamentis. This didn’t make sense--when he was trying to conquer Earth, he had the opportunity to also goof off and he’s always been shown to take things seriously, with the exception of Ragnarok.                                                 

The “I’m a narcissist” scene. While Loki is the type to crave attention--in Avengers, Tony calls him a diva who wants his name plastered to the skies--it comes from a place of feeling overshadowed, never able to match his brother Thor.  Which we can see has some basis:

In Thor 1, his adopted parents raised him to hate his race,

lied to him about it,

 and when he was hanging over an wormhole, his father finally rejected him.

In Avengers, Thor tells him in  that his slights are “imagined”. 

 Thor 2, his adopted father told him his “birthright was to die”.

While it doesn’t excuse his actions in Thor and Avengers, it’s pretty clear that his family, particularly his father, have let him down.

So to make him experience character development and understand why he does what he does...the writers took him back to Asgard, and had Sif beat him up repeatedly until he admits he does terrible things because he’s a...narcissist.

It was pretty hard to watch that scene, especially because I related to Loki as someone who felt overshadowed and overlooked. He tried too hard to be what his family wanted, to show that he was “the worthy son”.

But here in the fantastic year of 2021, this show decided to throw away all of that emotional nuance away.

 9) The costumes were bad.

The brown variant jacket with its ugly orange block letters.

The guard suit on Lamentis looked like a cross between a purple sweater and a plague doctor mask. honestly makes me shuder to see it

Loki’s green-and-gold costumes are some of the most distinct, instantly recognizable outfits of the MCU. And he almost immediately loses it in the first episode. It ends being given to Sylvie, (like most of Loki’s better characteristics) and he stays in a detective skinny-tie suit instead. The costume is okay, but it lacks the flair and style he’s had previously, and he never gains it back.

10) The season finale really did showcase this show in the best way-- ig hype followed by disappointment.

For five episodes, we rushed towards the ultimate villain, the mastermind behind it all. Episode 6 was like...being handed a pack of bubble wrap, swinging your hand hard, expecting that satisfying pop! only to have it slowly putter out with a sad little sound.

First, Kang looked like he got his costume from Party City. The purple cape isn’t doing him any favors. Then, the man sat there and monologued for forty minutes, making jokes, telling us how he set the plot up, and how the multiverse worked.

 I know Marvel gets flack for there always being an CGI climactic action scene, but…they had 6 episodes leading up to the Big Bad, and for it to end that anticlimactically with a man in a Party City purple cape was a letdown. The finale had no menace, no teeth. In the words of Mobius, it was just…talkie-talkie.

All in all, this show really suffered from ignoring Loki’s past, where he would realistically be emotionally-wise, and a lack of focus on its title character’s development. Settings and costumes being better/unique would be also be nice, especially given its popularity. At the end of the day, I don’t see the character I empathized so strongly with in this show.

A Simple Choice

Written by: @justajjfan​

Beta’d by: @sunsetsrmydreams​

Prompt 83: Katniss is whipped instead of Gale in Catching Fire, Peeta’s the one who’s there to take care of her after. [submitted by anonymous].

Prompt 116: Peeta braids Katniss’ hair to soothe her. [submitted by anonymous] 

Rating: Mature 

Warning: Mention of whipping 

A/N: My thanks to @everlarkficexchange​ ; @javistg​ and @xerxia31​ for allowing me to go way over the deadline. It was a real struggle but I’m so excited I finally have something post-worthy. My apologies to the 2 anons who have been so patiently waiting for their prompts to be turned into stories. I hope you like what I’ve written. A special thank you to @sunsetsrmydreams​. This story would be nothing without you. 

 ~~~

Chapter 1

“Trust me.”

I did. I trusted Katniss with my life, and so it seemed at the time…with my impending death. 

After everything we both went through to survive, enduring the pain and horrors only The Hunger Games could bring, it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough. 

The Capitolites craved this abhorrent form of entertainment and under the watchful and devious eye of President Coriolanus Snow, thrilled at the sight of children kill and be killed.   

As it was in previous games, once the first wave of bloodshed was spilled, tributes from Districts 1 and 2 formed packs like wolves and hunted down the weak and vulnerable one by one before turning on themselves until only one was left standing.   

The Victor.

All this savagery was broadcasted live each year across Panem in all its goriest detail and deemed mandatory viewing for every citizen.

Through it all, Katniss and I beat the odds and fought our way out of the gruesome web the Gamemakers spun to be the last two remaining tributes from the same district. But I should have known better…should have never allowed myself to be duped into believing the odds would at last be in our favour. 

All our valiant efforts to stay alive was thrown in our weary and battle-scared faces. 

President Snow had no intention of honouring the change in rules by allowing both of us to live and for the first time in The Hunger Games infamous history, have two tributes jointly crowned as Victors. So when the words bellowed in the air announcing the revocation of those rules, it came as little surprise to me. 

The promise of a peaceful life and all the wealth any citizen could ever want held no sway over me. Already knowing the odds would never be in my favour, I accepted my fate. 

For as long as I could remember, it had always been a fanciful dream of mine to live a life with Katniss, if she would allow it. Dreaming of our toasting and the vows I would say to her as I broke a piece of bread I baked myself and brought it to her sweet mouth. The feel of her soft body as we made love for the first time, even as far as raising a family of our own someday was a stupid pipedream, and I foolishly clung onto it all. Any hope of it becoming a reality was ripped from my grasp and shattered into a million pieces. 

The choice was a simple one. When we were reaped, I vowed to do everything I could to protect Katniss even if it meant sacrificing my own life so she could live. I had no chance of winning and besides…no one needed me back home. But it became apparent Katniss had other ideas. 

“Together?”

The sound of her voice echoing my question came as a soft whisper and in that moment we understood each other. If we couldn’t leave the arena together, then we would die…together. 

In the face of death itself, that one singular word gave me a strange sense of calm and peace. 

“One.” 

Starting off the count knowing how little time I had left in this cruel and merciless world, the chance to tell Katniss what I’ve always felt in my heart was before me…and quickly ticking by. 

“Two.”

I inhaled a deep breath sure the words would flow but instead my voice fell silent. Time was clearly against me but how many words would I need to express what Katniss meant to me?

In the precious dying second, my hand as if possessed with a will of its own, reached for her braid. This was something I had always longed to do and if I couldn’t say those words to Katniss, then I hoped she would feel them through this one innocent touch.

I would have given anything to sketch those steel grey eyes staring back at me. A chance to kiss her deeply and unravel her braid as I gently combed my fingers through the silky dark tresses the way I hoped she would like. Just one last chance to watch over her as she slept soundly in my arms and whisper the words she should have heard me say years ago.

But this was the cruel reality I was faced with and the closest thing I would ever get to realising any part of my dream. And I made sure not to let that final moment between us slip by.  

“Three.”

I focused on the only image I would take with me into the darkness…her eyes.

Slowly, we brought the handful of poison berries to our lips, ready to end this before the Gamemakers took the choice away from us when the deafening sound of Claudius Templesmith’s desperate shout rang out from the hidden audio speakers, freezing us both from any further movement.

“STOP! STOP! STOP”

…and so we did.

***

All that seems like a lifetime ago instead of weeks. The Hunger Games, The Victory Tour and everything in between changed after the cameras finally stopped rolling and we boarded the train for home. And as we sped closer to District 12, Katniss began to withdraw from me and eventually shut me out completely and it confused me.

What did I do to make her feel so indifferent towards me?

Those lonely nights on the train were the hardest to deal with. Sleeping without Katniss beside me was a new torture all on its own but it was what she wanted. I guess in the end, conscience got the better of her and I was finally put out of my misery with the hurtful truth.

It was an act…a show that Katniss and our mentor Haymitch Abernathy devised to fool the Capitol into believing we were star-crossed lovers desperate to be together even in death, only it was me who was completely fooled.

But their plan worked, and it kept us both alive. The cave…the embraces…the whispered words…all those kisses were just part of the act and she wanted to forget them all…but I didn’t.

When we finally arrived home, the citizens of Twelve were all at the train station to welcome us home. To my astonishment, they were cheering us both as heroes. Perhaps they too, were acting in front of the cameras. But as soon as the scripted speeches were done and the crowd slowly dispersed taking Katniss and her family along with it, the finality of it all hit home.

I was alone.

***

Living in the Victor’s Village was a new start. But even in our proximity, Katniss avoided having any sort of contact with me. I tried my best not to let it affect me, but the hurt I felt inside festered like an open wound.

I missed her so much.

At first, I blamed myself for Katniss distancing herself from me. She said she wanted to forget and maybe I reminded her too much of the arena and the nightmares those memories brought her.

But I had nightmares too.

Hearing her screams in the dead of night will haunt me forever and even now, it takes all my willpower to stop myself from crashing through her front door and rushing to her side.

She doesn’t need me.

At first, I thought time alone would help her figure things out in her head and I of all people, understood. But time wasn’t what she needed. I finally came to terms with what was real.

Gale Hawthorne had been her choice all along.

***

As one lonely day slowly creeps into the next, working in my family’s bakery has been my saving grace, helping me cope with my new life a little more each day. With both Bran and Rye learning new trades from the Merchant businesses they successfully married into, it left my father with no resources to help run the bakery, making me his only viable option.

The strain showed on his face and although dad would never admit to it, especially in front of my mother, I knew he needed my help desperately. So, when I suggested I could work in the bakery for a few hours each day, he accepted my offer in a heartbeat. In an odd kind of way, it felt good to be needed even if I was being used to keep our family business afloat.

It wasn’t like I had anything better to do.

Understandably, my older brothers were quick to register their new living and working arrangements at the Justice Building, automatically forsaking any claims of inheritance or ownership of the bakery. But it was a small price to pay as far as they were concerned, if it meant being free from under our mother’s thumb.

So, technically speaking I am now part-owner of the Mellark Bakery with all rights and privileges bestowed to any Merchant business holder, making mother my employee.

An ironic twist in fate.

***

Safely hidden in the darkness of my own room, my racing heart begins to calm after waking from my usual nightmare. As it is on most nights, my first compelling impulse is to rush towards the opened bedroom window and look in the direction of her room and breathe out a sigh of relief when I see her.

“It’s okay…just another bad dream…she’s safe,” I whisper to myself as I stare at the shadowy figure pacing the floor from across the way. Even in the darkness of her room, I would recognise her silhouette anywhere and she’s becoming alarmingly thinner by the day.

Katniss always leaves her lamp on during the night because she fears being left in the dark. Her phobia started soon after her father’s tragic death in the mines and the thought of him being buried alive in the explosion has left her emotionally scarred. At least that’s what she told me once before she drifted off to sleep in my arms.

Now, each night I watch on helplessly as Katniss paces her room. When I leave my house in the early hours of the morning for the bakery I try so hard not to look, but it only takes two steps outside my front door before my eyes dart towards her dimly-lit bedroom. She’s always there. Standing at her window, sleepless, anxiously twirling her messy braid around her fingers. When she spots me, she’s quick to move from sight.

I tell myself I must be imagining it, but I swear I can feel her eyes boring into the back of my head as I walk along the pathway, towards the gate. But I won’t allow myself to turn around and see if I’m right. She’s probably glad to see me leave while she waits for Gale Hawthorne to arrive.

It’s no secret Gale and Katniss are together now. My mother takes great pleasure in reminding me of this fact.

“Stop pinning over that Seam trash! She used you! It’s a known fact what she does with that Hawthorne boy in those woods. She’s probably carrying his brat inside of her. Time to get on with your own life and find a wife to help you in the bakery…a nice Merchant girl…someone pure like Delly Cartwright. She’s smart, pretty, comes from a respectable family. Those qualities are a rarity. Delly’s the perfect choice for you.”

Choice. Why do I always cringe when I hear that word?

I can’t continue to ignore the facts before me. Katniss hates me. She spends every Sunday with Gale sneaking off to the woods for hours. When they return, he stays at her house until late and the curtains in her bedroom which are usually left open even during the night, are drawn until he leaves.

I’m surprised Mrs Everdeen who was brought up with Merchant values would allow such a thing, but I guess after watching us in the cave during The Games and The Victory Tour, she’s not troubled by it now and happily overlooks her daughter’s lack of propriety because it’s with Gale Hawthorne after all.

I’m sure to hear the announcement of their toasting soon.

I need to keep reminding myself what Katniss does with her life is none of my business. What made me think it ever was? She’s clearly moved on with her life and maybe it’s time I thought about doing the same with mine.

For once my mother may have a point.

tbc…

The Emo Who Stole Christmas

Chapter 4 : You're A Mean One Mr. Grinch or Virgil and Roman Are Done With the Who's and Decide to Get Back at Them.

Word Count: 3,477

Warnings: stealing of Christmas, may be some cursing, grown adult blaming a child for their problems, let me know if I missed any

Pairings: Pre-established Prinxiety and Logicality and Demus

Masterlist | Previous | Next | More Chapters

Again, a big thank you to @icequeenoriginal for being the co-creator. This was a mother-daughter effort and I love it.

❄🎅🎄❄🎅🎄❄🎅🎄❄🎅🎄❄🎅🎄❄

Virgil stood staring down at the Whoville in the ice-cold snow. 

Yes, the Grinch knew that tomorrow all the Whos would wake bright and early and rush for their toys. 

"And then, the noise! Oh, the noise! Noise, noise, noise!" Virgil exclaimed as he stomped around. "They'll bang on tong-tinglers. They'll blow their floo-flounders. They'll crash on Jang-jinglers and bounce on boing-bouncers!" He held his hands to his ears as if he could already hear the horrific noise. 

Then Whos young and old would sit down to feast. 

"And they'll ready and they'll feast. And they'll feast, feast, feast, feast!!" Virgil exclaimed as he stomped around. "They'll eat their Who pudding! And rare Who roast beast! And that's something I can not stand in the least." Virgil paused in his ranting. "Oh no!" He exclaimed horrified. "I'm speaking in rhyme!" He cried out. "Blast you Whos!" He exclaimed as he fell to his knees. 

The more the Grinch thought of what Christmas would bring…the more the Grinch thought...

"I must stop this whole thing!" Virgil exclaimed as he stood up and paced. "For year after year, I've put up with it now! I must stop this Christmas from coming! But how?" Virgil blinked. "I mean, in what way?" He let out an annoyed growl and turned to walk inside. He opened the door and was hit with a blast of cheery Christmas music. 

"Christmas is going to the dogs!" Virgil blinked as he watches Remy lazily bath himself to the music. Virgil opened his mouth only to close it again confused. He quickly jumped at the sound of his door opening and turned to find Roman dressed in sweats.

"Roman?" Virgil asked concerned. "How are you feeling?" Roman shuffled forward and fell forward into his lover's arms. Virgil's arms came up to wrap around the other and envelope him in a hug. 

"Virgil…I want to live with you. I don't want to be down there anymore. Not with the way they keep treating me, like some ornament meant to be stared at or ignored! Please! I don't care if someone finds out, I can't live there anymore!”

Virgil blinked rapidly. "Love," he started. "Are you 100% sure about this?" Roman nodded. Virgil sighed and ran his hands through the other soft curls. 

"Virgil?" Roman asked softly after a while. 

"Hmm?"

"I want to make them pay. I want them to understand. I don't-I want them to-" Roman groaned and hurried his face in Virgil's chest, ironically too emotionally exhausted to deal with his emotions.  Virgil frowned and snuggled the other closer trying to provide as much comfort as he could. Then, his mind began to whirl. 

Then the Grinch got an idea. An awful idea. The Grinch got a wonderful awful idea. 

Virgil pulled away from Roman and announced. ”I’m going to steal Christmas.” Roman blinked as Virgil smirked. "They want to hurt you so bad, they'll lose Christmas. And if they want a monster, then I'll show them a monster!" 

Roman hopped up, finally finding some energy. "Yes! I'll go make the costume. You work on the sleigh!" He turned to Remy only to stop. "And you just keep bathing yourself." Roman ran off and began working while Virgil started on the monstrous sleigh. 

”With this coat and this hat, he'll look just like Saint Nick!" Roman exclaimed. As they worked, Roman's voice sang a little song he had composed from all of the stupid rumors about the Grinch. "'You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch,'"  Virgil chuckled as he heard the other sing. "'You really are a heel. You're as cuddly as a cactus, You're as charming as an eel, Mr. Grinch! You're a bad banana with a greasy black peel!" Roman walked over to Virgil with the hat and place it on his head as he sang and place a quick kiss to his cheeks before going back to work on the jacket. "'Just face the music, you're a monster, Mr. Grinch, yes, you are. Your heart's an empty hole. Your brain is full of spiders. You've got garlic in your soul, Mr. Grinch. I wouldn't touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole.'" Virgil snorted as Roman danced around with the jacket before sitting on a table out of his way so he could work on the pants. "You know, if you ask the Who's Who of Whoville, No one's denyin”  Virgil spared a glance at Roman and smiled. Boy did he love him. 

"'You're a vile one, Mr. Grinch." Roman picked up the song again. "'You have termites in your smile. You have all the tender sweetness of a seasick crocodile, Mr. Grinch. Given the choice between you, I'd take the seasick crocodile!" Virgil giggled as Roman tossed the pants over to the same table. He closed the front door behind him after having moved the sleigh outside and walked over to Roman. He wrapped him in a hug and kissed his temple. Roman hummed happily. Virgil hated to have to wipe the smile from his face. 

"Roman," Roman made a small noise of acknowledgment. "I'm going to need you to go home. Just for tonight."

Roman ripped himself away from Virgil. "What?! Why?!" 

"I can't have you helping me-" 

"No! You can't--no!" 

"Roman, please-"

"No! No! No!" 

"Roman, I can't have you getting in trouble. I want to make sure if you ever want to go back, you can! I can't bare to have you help and then regret it and then want to leave but you can't because you've been shunned. Please, Roman. This is all I ask. Just this one night. Please." 

Roman stared at Virgil for a while before reluctantly nodding. "Okay," he whispered. He wasn't happy about it, but he knew it would make Virgil feel better about everything. "Okay, just-" Roman moved forward and placed a hand on Virgil's cheek. "Be careful, okay?" Virgil nodded. "Thank you." Roman pushed up on his tiptoes and gave the other a light kiss. "I'll see you later." 

"See you later," Virgil promised

-----

Virgil sat with Remy watching Santa through a telescope. "He should be finishing up anytime now. Wanna talk about a recluse? He only comes out once a year but does he catch any hate for it? No! He probably lives up there just to avoid the taxes." Virgil ranted. He paused as he watched as Santa flew away in his sleigh. "Whoops. I forgot about the reindeer…" 

Did that stop the old Grinch? No, the Grinch simply said: 

"If I can't find a reindeer, I'll make one instead." Virgil turned around and faced Remy. "Remy!" Remy rolled his eyes and prepared himself to wear a headband with antlers. Virgil quickly found a reindeer headband and placed it on his cat's head before placing a red nose on his nose. "Okay, you're a reindeer and your motivation is that you're a deer with a red nose and nobody likes you. One day, you save Christmas-" Virgil paused. "Ignore that. We'll just improvise. You hate Christmas! You're gonna steal it! Saving Christmas was such a lousy ending. Okay and action!" 

Remy glared at Virgil before knocking the red nose off. Virgil blinked and then he gasped. "Brilliant! You regret your own nose because it represents the glitter of commercialism! Why didn't I think of that?" Then Virgil walked off and climbed into the sleigh along with Remy. 

Virgil flipped the switch and the sleigh came life, vibrating with power. "That feels good." Virgil turned to Remy "Here goes nothing," and he pressed the bottom to start actually start moving. The sleigh rose up in the air and Virgil grinned. "Wow! It actually works! Okay! Let's go! On, Crasher! On Thrasher! On, Vomit and Blitzkrieg!!!" Virgil screamed as the sleigh shot off and began spinning violently, turning over and over. "We're gonna die!" Virgil shrieked. "We're gonna die! I'm going to throw up! And then we're gonna die! Mommy, tell it to stop!!" He cried, eventually he was able to wrangle control of the sleigh and they flew smoothly through the sky. Virgil stayed frozen for a moment before allowing himself to slightly relax. He let out a sigh of relief. "Almost lost my cool there." 

All their windows were dark. Quiet snow filled the air. All the Whos were all dreaming sweet dreams without care when he came to the first little house on the square…

Virgil slowly brought down the sleigh on top of the roof of an overly decorated house. He noticed a traffic light among the variety of lights. "Weird." He turned back to Remy. "This will be our first stop."

The old Grinchy Claus hissed. And he climbed to the roof, empty bags in his fist. He'd slide down the chimney, a rather tight pinch, but if Santa could do it, so could the Grinch.

Virgil stood up and tied a rope around his waist. He stepped up onto the edge of the chimney and prepared to dive. "He's planning a double-twisted interrupted forward-flying 2-and-a-half with a combo tuck and like. A high degree of difficulty," Virgil muttered and jumped and dove headfirst down into the chimney. 

He got stuck only once, for a moment or two…

Virgil groaned quietly. "Stupid suit," muttered, referring to the furry suit of the Grinch. Something that helped him scare kids off and leave him alone now was slowing him down from his biggest scare of all. He huffed.

Then he stuck his head out of the fireplace flue. 

"A little more stealth, Thomas, please." 

Thomas lowered his voice. Where the little Who stockings all hung in a row. 

"These stockings," he grinned. "Are the first things to go." The Grinch opened a jar and turned it upside down, shaking out moths. "Alright, fellas, chow time." The moths quickly gobbled up the stockings. 

Then he slunk to the icebox. 

"Slunk?" 

He eyed the Whos' feast. He took the Who pudding. He took the roast beast. 

"Hike!" Virgil called out as he launched the roast beast through his legs like a football player. 

He cleaned out that icebox as quick as a flash. Why that Grinch, even took their last can of Who-hash. Then he stuffed all the food up the chimney with glee. 

Virgil threw the bag up the chimney and spun around to face the tree. "And now," grinned the Grinch. "I'll stuff up the tree!" And the Grinch grabbed the tree and he started to shove, when he heard a small sound like the coo of a dove. 

Virgil turned to find Emile and grimaced. He felt really bad about this….

"Excuse me" Emile called softly. 

The Grinch had been caught by this tiny Who child, who'd got out of bed for a cup of cold water. 

"Mr. Santa, what are you doing with our tree?" 

But you know, that old Grinch was so smart and so slick, he thought up a lie, and he thought it up quick. 

"Why my sweet little tot!" Virgil exclaimed grandly. "There's a light on this tree that won't light on one side. So, I'm taking it home to my workshop, sweet child. "I'll fix it up there, then I'll bring it back here."

Emile narrowed their eyes. "Santa, what's Christmas really about?" 

"Vengeance!" Virgil exclaimed before remembering he was supposed to be pretending he was the perfect Who Santa. "I mean...presents, I suppose." 

Emile frowned. "I was afraid of that." 

And his fib fooled the child. Then he patted their head and got them a drink, and he sent them to bed. 

Emile paused their journey up the stairs. "Santa?"

"What?" Virgil asked. 

"Don't forget the Grinch-" 

Virgil couldn't take it anymore and walk out from behind the tree. "I'm sorry." 

Emile blinked and furrowed their brows. "Why?" 

Virgil bit his lip. "To show you all what's more important ...and to get back at everyone for upsetting Roman." 

Emile nodded. "Okay. Well...good luck, Virgil." 

And when Emile Lou went up with their cup, the Grinch went to the chimney and stuffed the tree up. Virgil quickly shot the tree up the chimney and grabbed everything else before climbing back up the chimney. And the last thing he took was the log for their fire. On their walls, he left nothing but some hooks and some wire. And the one speck of food that he'd left in the house, was a crumb that was even too small for a mouse. Virgil reached down and picked the mouse up deciding to allow it to eat something so long as it wasn't in a Whos’ house. Then he slithered and slunk with a smile most unpleasant, around each Who home and he took every present. 

Virgil took a saw and cut a circle above his head and the floor fell through along with the Christmas tree and its presents. He stepped up through the hole and smirked. "They're in sale. Everything must go." And he began to take it all. 

------

Virgil froze as he stepped into the bedroom of a magazine picture-perfect house. Oh. This was Roman's house. He glanced around at the decorations and found himself smiling fondly. He should have known. Everything just screamed Roman from the abundance of reds, whites, and golds. He carefully walked over to the bedside table and noticed the ring box the mayor had given Roman. He nearly growled as he went to take it before noticing something else. It was his gift. The one he had made for Roman all those years ago. Virgil's eyes watered and he forced himself to blink the tears away. He shook his head and quickly snatched the ring box off of the table. He went to move only to be stopped by a tan hand yanking him down and lips crashing into his. Virgil blinked in surprise before happily giving into Roman and allowing the other to wrap his arms around his neck. 

Roman pulled away after kissing Virgil senseless. "Virgil," he asked softly. "Please, let me help." Virgil bit his lip. "I suppose..." He started. "You can help...but...just promise that if we get caught, you say I forced you to do it, okay?" 

Roman's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait! No! I can't-" 

"Then I can't let you help." 

Roman blinked. "I-okay," he sighed in defeat. "I'll tell them you forced me." Virgil let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you." 

-----

Roman froze as he finally dragged the attention away from Virgil's hiding place. He hadn't realized the Whos would put out guards to guard the path leading to Mount Crumpit after everyone went to bed to protect from the Grinch. From Virgil. But Virgil ran out of fuel for his rocket sleigh and he had to drag it up the mountain himself. But they were losing moonlight, and the long way around wouldn't work. So Roman offered to try and distract them. But now, he was very nervous. The Who guards had rounded on him. Accusing him of being in league with the Grinch. Of course, he was, but Virgil had made him promise and he wasn't about to break his promise. 

"You really think I'm in league with the Grinch?" Roman asked the guards. 

They nodded. "Yeah, why else wouldn't you have immediately said yes to Mayor Anton's proposal?” 

Roman grimaced. He really hated the mayor. 

"If I really hated the Grinch, would I do this?" Then Roman started his song. "'You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch. You really are a heel, You're as cuddly as a cactus, You're as charming as an eel, Mr. Grinch. You're a bad banana with a greasy black peel. Just face the music, you're a monster, Mr. Grinch, yes, you are. Your heart's an empty hole, Your brain is full of spiders, You've got garlic in your soul, Mr. Grinch. I wouldn't touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole. You know, if you ask the Who's Who of Whoville No one's denyin'. You're a vile one, Mr. Grinch. You have termites in your smile. You have all the tender sweetness Of a seasick crocodile, Mr. Grinch. Given the choice between you, I'd take the seasick crocodile.'" 

As Roman sang, he watched Virgil carefully carry the sleigh behind the two guards and try to rush up the path until he wouldn't be noticed. 

"I suppose not," one of the guards said once Roman's song was done. Then they both turned back to face the mountain. 

Roman blinked. Surely it can't be that easy! But it seemed it was. So he turned and quickly found the nearest garbage chute and took a ride to the top of Mount Crumpit. Prepared to meet his love at the top. 

----

3,000 feet up, up the side of Mount Crumpit, he rode with his load to the tip top to dump it.

Virgil grunted as he set the sleigh down carefully in the snow and turned to face Roman who was standing before him. "We did it!" He exclaimed excitedly. Roman grinned, leaped into his arms and wrapped him in a tight hug. Virgil placed a kiss to Roman's lips before setting him back down on his own feet. Virgil turned to Remy. "That wasn't so bad, was it Remy?" 

Remy rolled his eyes as he remembered at least 30 different breakdowns Virgil had had along the way. 

Roman turned towards the horizon. "They'll be waking up now," he said. "I know just what they'll do. All of them down in Whoville will all cry!”

----

"What an embarrassment! I've been robbed!" The sheriff of Whoville exclaimed as she rushed out of her house to her car. She climbed in and turned the siren on blissfully unaware of the rope attached to her bumper. She quickly drove off. 

Mayor Anton awoke with a start and suddenly, his bed crashed through the big window in his room with him in it. As Whos came out of their homes they watched as the mayor slid past on his bed. As the sheriff made a turn around the Christmas tree in the middle of town, the Mayor's bed slid around and came to an abrupt stop.  

The sheriff stepped out of her car and stopped as she noticed the mayor. "Mayor May-Who?" 

The mayor quickly jumped out of bed and pulled on his robe that was luckily still attached to the bed. He looked around noticing the damage. He frowned. "I wonder who could have done this," he said as he noticed Emile and their family come into view. "I'll tell you one thing: Invite the Grinch destroy Christmas." He raised his hands and beat on his bed. "Invite the Grinch destroy Christmas!!" He paused to take a breath and Emile frowned. "But did anyone, anyone listen to me?" 

"I did!" The mayor's assistant piped in but the mayor ignored him. 

"No. You choose to listen to a little not-to-be-taken-seriously child. And they haven't even grown into their nose yet." Anton shook his head. "Emile, I hope you're very proud of what you have done." With that, the mayor turned around. 

Emile frowned and looked down as tears welled in their eyes. 

"If they aren't, then I am!” 

Mayor Anton turned around to see Patton, Emile's dad, and Logan, their father had stepped in front of them. "What?" He asked, not sure if he had heard correctly. 

"I said, if they aren't, then I am. I'm glad he took our presents."

Who's around all gasped as the Mayor gawked at them. "You're glad? He's glad!" The mayor shouted to the crowd. "You're glad that everything is gone.? You're glad the Grinch virtually wrecked…? No, no. Not wrecked, pulverized Christmas. Is that really what I'm hearing?" 

Patton sighed. "You can't hurt Christmas, Mr. Mayor. It's not about the gifts, or contests or the fancy lights." He turned and gestured to Emile who's face showed hopefulness. 

"That's what Emile has been trying to tell everybody. "

The mayor blinked. "What is wrong with you!?! This is a child!" 

Patton pulled Emile close against his side. "They're my child. They happen to by right by the way." Patton turned towards his family. "I don't need anything more for Christmas than what's right here, my family."

The Who's all erupted into cheers and began telling each other Merry Christmas. Emile smiled brightly. They finally understood. Logan grabbed a hold of Patton's robe. "Merry Christmas honey!" He yanked Patton into a kiss. Missy and Pranks covered their mouths like they were going to be sick as they moved away from their parents. 

"Give me a break!" The mayor cried out as he turned away. 

Meanwhile, Emile was looking up at Mount Crumpit before they moved to find a garbage chute. "No one should be alone on Christmas," they whispered as the hit the side and started their ride to the top of the mountain. 

❄🎅🎄❄🎅🎄❄🎅🎄❄🎅🎄❄🎅🎄❄

Everything Taglist: @spxced-oxt @superwholocked-for-life @mirror2thespirit @aroundofapplesauce @lyditist @little-euro-girl @unicornofdarknessstuff @maryann-draws

The Emo Who Stole Christmas Taglist: @logical-princey @mostpeopleannoyne

May I suggest listening to this song as mom or you know @ icequeenoriginal showed it to me saying this is how extra Roman is singing the song and I quite agree.

Darlin’

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, getting sick, drugs, and alcohol. this is emotionally heavy. 

Author’s Note: it’s not a happy one, please be wary of that. “ghost of you” came on while i was writing this, and it made me kinda sad. i didn’t plan that.

Word Count: 4.7k

Calum fell asleep in odd places. By this point in his career, it wasn’t unusual–– everyone else did it as well. He fell asleep on his suitcase in back alleyways when waiting for a chauffeur more times than he wanted to admit. He also fell asleep in the middle of restaurants right before receiving his food. He didn’t often fall asleep in his car only to wake up in his childhood bedroom, but he knew why he was here. He knew why the burning bile bubbled in his throat as he sat up on the creaky springs.

The grief of it all had yet to hit him. It settled in his shoulders and through his chest, and the numbing in his hands had yet to pass after all of this time. It rippled down his fingers and twisted his stomach, but his sinuses refused to sting with the familiar sensation that brought hot tears down his flustered cheeks. The lack of desire to cry made him want to cry. One of these days, he knew the emotion would pour out of him, and he wished it would happen now. He wanted to feel human.

Calum ached for the day prior to hearing the news. His fever spiked the morning of, and in order to work through it, he popped two Advil and packed his things. He had to be on a flight back to Los Angeles by noon. The fever broke during the flight, his body reacted accordingly to the altered internal temperature, but he was too involved in a deep sleep to notice his sweats. He wished he could say he dreamt of you. If he had, maybe he would have thought to call you. He would go back and change everything if he could.

The cool hardwood below his feet sent a chill up his spine as he attempted to fully wake himself up. Two weeks. It had been two weeks. The surreal would soon become real, and he’d have to face the heavy emotions weighing him down. But, for the life of him, he could not cry.

The anger behind it all ate him up. You deserved better than what he could give you.

In the kitchen, where conversations lacked and contentment hid in the most complex places, his mother was washing a few dishes that had been soaking from the night before. Her back was to her son, and her shoulders were slumped low–– he could feel the somber energy radiating off of her from the entrance. Mali had herself situated at the counter while she lackadaisically scrolled at her phone, and his father had nodded off above his bowl of Cheerios. Calum waited for someone to say something. He waited for a bit of life to spark, but he realized that you had taken all of that with you.

Things had been like this since his arrival. He couldn’t remember ever hugging someone as long as he hugged his mother in the airport arrivals lot. Even then, the tears were trapped in their ducts, and his lungs were forced to heave and wheeze through the repetitive words:

“It’s not true, it’s not true.”

But Joy never said a word in response. She had soaked his shirt with her tears, although he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Calum couldn’t breathe then, and he still couldn’t now.

“Cal.”

He blinked in the direction of the voice only to find both Mali and Joy looking at him over their shoulders. He hadn’t budged from the doorway of the kitchen.

“You should eat,” said Mali, her tone low and soft. She hadn’t been this sincere with him since his latest achievement. In this case, there was no achievement but a great fallback.

Calum nodded. He knew he should eat something. The past few days were spent in tremendous dissociation, and he only knew how to stomach coffee and scotch. He spent three consecutive nights emptying the contents of his stomach in the bathroom, hoping that no one would hear his distress. Even if they had, he knew they wouldn’t speak up about it. Everyone had to handle things in their own way.

They watched him amble over to the cabinets, poor posture and all before he reached up and retrieved the box of Cheerios. And when he took his first bite, they finally looked away, satisfied with the fact that he had taken one more step in the direction of caring for himself.

-

“Cal, it’s four in the morning. Nothing you say is of importance to me at four in the morning.”

Your words were hushed through the receiver. The elderly cat you had adopted recently passed, so there was no one else around you to wake.

He wanted to chuckle. He wanted to laugh and joke like the two of you always seemed to do, even in the most serious situations. And yet, your voice penetrated his brain as he stared hopelessly at the hotel wall before him. “You used to tell me to speak my truth.”

“Hm?”

Calum blinked. “When we were growing up. You said that nothing would change or go my way if I let things hold me back, that I should speak up when it mattered most.”

“I– I vaguely ‘member,” you mumbled sleepily. “Wha’s this, Cal? Ya okay?”

He shook his head, but the only living thing around him to face the gesture was the bug he spotted forty minutes prior. “I have t’speak up now. ‘Bout us.”

There was a short moment of silence on your end, and it didn’t settle right with him, even when you said a soft, “okay.”

“I can’t stop thinkin’ about what you said to me before I left,” he continued, his knee bouncing as the nerves jolted in his chest. The air conditioner droned loudly beside the bed, meanwhile, he had no idea what he was going to say. He just needed to say something. “Ya said my arms felt like home, ‘n I didn’t say anything. Don’t know why I didn’t say anything. You’re home. You’ve been my home for– for eight years.”

“Cal– “

“Even when I’m halfway across the world,” he said, “jus’ hearing your voice brings me home. I’m walkin’ down Brighton all cheeky with our backpacks over both o’ my shoulders, and you’re skippin’ over cracks in the sidewalk while talking ‘bout Ms. Pettis’ homework. I’m not calm unless I’m with you.”

He heard you sigh on the other end, but you weren’t going to speak up again. Not when he was talking the way he was right now.

“And, it’s kinda crazy to think this way,” he breathed out. His other knee began to shake. “Y-you follow me around wherever I go, and– shit, I haven’t even seen ya in a year, and somehow ‘m still convinced you’re with me. When I realize you’re not... “

Calum leaned back and let himself fall against the white duvet below him. There were tears pricking at his eyes, and before he took the chance to swallow them back, the heavy weight in his chest overcame his emotions. It took every part of him not to choke out sobs. “’m so lonely without ya.” He sounded so pathetic–– he couldn’t imagine the disappointment you were feeling on the other side.

“Cal,” you said, tone low and steady unlike his. “What is it? What are you feeling?”

His lips trembled, and he could hardly keep his eyes from wincing shut. He knew what he wanted to say now, but he didn’t want to say it either. “I’ve been stupid, t-thinkin’ all these years that all ya were was just a friend. A-a r-r-really good friend who made me feel fu-u-ucking different from my other friends. Din’ know why. Couldn’ figure out why. But– shit.” Calum took a shaky breath, his lungs filling with as little air as possible through the tight passageways his body allowed. The tears burned his slickened cheeks. “It’s cos’ I’ve been so in love with ya, darlin’.”

With the A.C. running and his heavy breathing filling the room, he could hardly hear the white noise on the other end of the phone call. All he wanted was an immediate response. He wanted you to be so unbelievably confident in your response, whether it was a rejection or not.

Nevertheless, he didn’t expect you to say, “come home.”

-

Calum had been in the shower for eighteen minutes and counting, but he hadn’t moved a muscle. The steaming pellets felt like bullets against his skin, and the supposed positive effects of hydrotherapy through showering weren’t allowing him any relief. He still couldn’t cry. His body could let himself feel–– God, he felt so much. He could feel the grief swallow him up and twist his chest in its death grip. Sometimes, he’d wonder what would happen if it squeezed harder. 

He hadn’t come to terms with your passing, nor would he let himself. He wouldn’t let himself think about anything aside from your absence because he knew the anger would surge up on him, and he knew he would have no self-control once his fists did the talking. If he ever got his hands on the man who caused your death...

Calum pressed his knuckles against the tiled wall and let out a guttural noise, and truth be told, it was more of a growl than anything. He had gotten mad while trying not to get mad. It coursed through him as he shut off the water. It ached in his veins while tossing on his clothes. It stained the whites of his eyes, and it pierced his heart; it was too late for control now.

How could he let himself fall apart like this? You would be deeply disappointed in him, but that didn’t sway his mood swings. Once his temper got the best of him, hope felt lost. He felt lost. He felt lost without you. He could no longer enter a car without violently shaking.

His mother had placed his suit over a chair in the dining room, the note reading “ironed, not fitted– hope it works”. Calum felt sick at the sight of it. He hadn’t given the memorial service a single thought, and he knew he would have to eventually. From the very moment he heard of your service, he knew he would give a speech. You deserved the best damn speech, even if it dried his soul of every emotion. Even if it meant scraping his brain of every single memory of you.

He felt for his mother. Though her support meant the world to him, she had no idea how to edge her son out of his painful silence. He couldn’t muster up the energy or strength to utter a coherent sentence that wasn’t a mumble or nod. He didn’t know what she was thinking or feeling–– she had loved you, too.

The home phone rang once, then twice. Calum stayed put beside the suit as the phone finished ringing and went straight to voicemail.

“Calum Thomas, there is a time and place for ignoring phone calls, but right now is not one of them.”

Mali’s voice echoed throughout the house, and after he didn’t make an effort to move to answer the phone, she continued on.

“Cal,” she sighed. “I– I’m just calling to let you know that we’re dropping by in a few to get ready for–“ Another sigh. The time on the stove read 7:52 in the morning. “For the service. We have the flowers and such. Lilies.”

Your favorite kind of flowers. Calum winced.

“See you then, Cal,” said Mali.

-

“Cal-wal-pal-towel, baby, hand me that bottle of– “

“No, no more for you,” he joked, holding the bottle of whiskey up and out of your reach. He should have known this would cause you to crawl on his lap to stretch yourself out. “Darlin’, ow– ow, don’t put your knee there.” Though Calum chuckled through it, your knee had hit him in a certain area, and it hurt more than he played it off. However, despite his pleads, you continued your expedition, and he wrapped his arms around your waist to tug you down.

“No, no, no, no, no!” you wailed as you placed both of your knees on either side of his hips. This meant you were straddling him, and Calum didn’t know what to think.

“Sorry, sweets,” he said. Calum hid the bottle behind his back, but instead, that only made you press your chest to his so you could get to the whiskey. “Hey, hey, darlin’, please,” he begged, pushing the bottle back and sliding it against the hardwood floor. “You’re wasted, and ya gotta teach tomorrow.”

You huffed, your head falling against his shoulder as you mumbled out, “I don’t wanna.”

“Jus’ show a movie, darlin’.”

“Mhm.”

“Hey,” Calum said and tugged on your waist a bit, but that only made you squirm against him. “N-no, don’t do that.” He grimaced and pushed your hips away from his. This caused you to pout. “Don’t do that either.”

“Why?” You continued on pouting. “You’re makin’ me sad.”

Well, Calum thought, you’re making me horny. But he wouldn’t say that. If he said that, your drunken stupor would find a way to make a joke of it. He knew you. It was either that, or you would tease him until you passed out.

“Sorry,” he replied, voice gruff as he leaned back onto his hands. Him touching you would only make his desires worsen.

And then, you began to giggle. You giggled and giggled, your arms wrapping around his neck while you mumbled his name against his skin. There were two things going through his mind meanwhile, and one was trying to keep the situation in his pants from getting worse. The other was trying to resist temptations.

“You’re so pissed,” said Calum, and that was when you reached around him to grasp his wrists and place his hands back onto your waist. He tried to chuckle through it, but the amount of heat swirling around his brain and his body urged him to elevate the circumstances occurring. “Darlin’.”

“I like it when ya call me that,” you whispered into his skin, and it sent shivers up his spine. “Makes me all tingly inside.”

He hummed–– he didn’t have any other words aside from the ones that would express his current feelings, but he couldn’t say those. He still didn’t know what to say when you moved his hands up and under the material of your sweatshirt, and he could feel every single nerve under his skin dance at the touch.

“I have an issue, Cal,” you mumbled the moment you started kissing up his neck, and he convinced himself that after that, he was officially done for.

“Mm, what is it, baby?” he wondered, voice low with rapture.

“There’s this guy I know,” you said. Your lips had found a dainty spot just under his jaw that made him tense up at the contact. You knew what to do after that. “And he’s so, so responsive. Jus’ makes me wanna lick him clean. But I dunno how to tell him how badly I want him.”

Calum smirked, digging his fingernails gently into the hot skin of your back as you sucked and nibbled on a sensitive spot near his ear. “’m sure he wants you just as badly darlin’,” he sighed. He couldn’t hold back the pleasure any longer; he let his eyes roll back while he let out a subtle groan.

“Yeah?” you breathed. “What makes ya think that?”

He groaned again, this time louder once you began rocking your hips. “Cos’, baby, you’re makin’ him all crazy right now.”

Calum could feel you smile against him, and the two of you soon realized that there was no use for words after that. Your lips were decorating his neck in all kinds of colors, ranging from blues to purples and browns darker than his skin. A moment later, the motion of your hips slowed, and the pressure of your lips left his neck. You rested your head back against his shoulder, and without a word, you soon drifted off to sleep.

He didn’t mind all that much–– he wouldn’t have wanted things to escalate with you as smashed as you were. Solemnly, he stood, careful enough to hold you in his arms without waking you before caring you off to bed. Calum could take care of himself. The next morning, it was as if nothing had happened.

-

He had yet to speak a word on the car ride over to the church. His palms, now imprinted with crescents from the blunt ends of his nails, were painted in sweat. It felt as though the long tie around his neck had slowly started to choke him, and he held back the urge to wheeze in order to alleviate any unwanted attention. Calum wanted to sob, but his body refused.

It refused when he glanced over at the photos adorning a petty folding table by the entrance to the sanctuary. Memories, most shared with him, were all placed on some gaudy tablecloth your mother must have chosen. She was smiling and greeting old friends, but Calum noticed the tears in her eyes. He noticed the pallid color wash over her skin, and he noticed the tight lines by her smile. She had lost her child, her baby.

Calum excused himself to the bathroom until the service began. The photos were haunting him, and the lurking sense of panic that loomed over him had started to creep up the more he surrounded himself with people. He needed to escape for a brief moment of time.

-

“Cal, we ordered take-out the last time we spent a night together,” you said, a graceful smile growing on your cheeks. Your face was blurry and pixelized, but he still thought you were beautiful. “When’s the last time you had a home cooked meal, bub?”

“Bub?” he chuckled, and he could feel his own face light up in reaction to yours. “That’s new.” He noticed you shrug. “Are ya offering to cook me dinner, darlin’? That’s–– I can’t believe that. You? Nice? Hah.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Oh, very funny. I’m only offering because you’re like, never not traveling.”

“I have a house,” he said, “in LA.”

Once again, you shrugged. “And, do you cook?”

Calum didn’t reply, but he couldn’t suppress the twitching grin.

“Thought so.”

“What would you make me, darlin’?” he asked, setting his phone against the wall above the hotel sink in order to get ready for bed. “And if you say– “

“Pasta.”

Calum rolled his eyes. “–pasta.”

You laughed lightly, and for a moment, he lost himself in admiration of you. All you were doing was working on your lessons for the school week, and you looked too damn cute doing so. Ever since the day he met you, Calum knew you were going to be a teacher. It was in your nature–– you were kind and loving, and you made sure every toad and stray kitten on the street knew you loved them. And, you loved kids. You had talked about wanting a few of your own one day. He had no doubt that you would make a great mum.

-

You were never going to have kids. You were never going to get married. You were never going to see another sunrise or sunset. You were never going to grow old with the person you love. You were never going to take another late-night drive. You were never going to celebrate another holiday. You were never going to adopt a pet and name it Freckles. You were never going to hold his hand through sad movies anymore. You were never going to burn cookies for your child’s bake sale. You were never going to celebrate another birthday. You were never going to write the novel you longed to write. You were never going to laugh at his dumb jokes again. You were never going to buy a house in the suburbs. You were never going to reunite with old friends after years apart. You were never going to sing your favorite songs again. You were never going to tell him you loved him. He was never again going to tell you he loved you.

-

“You’re–– shit, you’re here early!” you exclaimed, wrapping your arms around his waist in a tight embrace, but it was over quick as you ushered him inside. “The cake is in the oven, so at least now you can help me ice it! Joy’s literally gonna cry until she floods the house, I hope ya know.”

He laughed and threw his bags by the front door. Calum was undeniably at his happiest around you. “Oh, I know. And she’ll think I had nothing to do with any of it, I hope you know.”

“Psh.” You rolled your eyes as you darted around the small kitchen of your place. “I’ll give you credit. You painted the pottery.”

And, quite literally at that. Calum had found a place in LA that let you paint pre-made pottery, and he had been on FaceTime with you as he tried his best to emulate your artist skills onto a large platter. Your mention of the gift reminded him to retrieve it from his luggage.

“I figured out how to crumb a cake, so tonight’s about to get real lit,” you said in a teasing tone. “If this cake tastes like shit, I’ll just tell her you made it.”

“Uh, no you will not,” Calum replied and poked your waist as he set the gift down onto the little bit of counter space you hadn’t taken up with baking supplies. “’m a good baker, and you– “

“I am also a good baker, Mr. Hood!” you yelped.

“Uh huh, Mrs. Hood.”

“Mrs. Hood?” you asked, eyebrows quirking with the question. “Are we playing house now? Can I be Mr. Hood, then?”

Calum snickered as he dipped his finger into the icing in the Kitchen-Aid. “Gonna wife you up.”

“I don’t think your girlfriend would like the sound of that.”

His smirk slipped into a frown at the thought of her. She was lovely, but she wasn’t you.

-

Calum had spent too long with his butt on layers of toilet paper, and he had slowly grown annoyed with the number of people coming in and out of the bathroom. His hand shook as it unlocked his stall, and it continued to shake through turning on the faucet and splashing water on his face. Meanwhile, a child had walked in, and it took Calum a matter of seconds to realize that he did not recognize this kid one bit. Had it been one of your students?

“Are you Cawum?” the toddler asked, his beady brown eyes gazing up at the taller boy, almost in admiration.

Calum replied with a nod. He hadn’t heard his own voice in ages it felt, not even when rehearsing his speech. He had no paper to read off of, just feelings.

“Auntie told me t’come get you,” the small boy said. “’m Thomas, but my mum used t’call me Tommy.”

Calum furrowed his brows and nodded once more as he allowed the toddler to escort him out into the lobby. There, folks were making their way into the sanctuary. They all appeared too happy for him, even when there was hardly a single smile in sight. He wanted to believe he was the only one aching. He wanted to believe his sadness surpassed theirs.

Though he had been wringing his brain of every memory shared with you, he felt unprepared as he stared down at the sea of eyes facing him. It was halfway through the service, and he still hadn’t cried. He hadn’t broken down, he hadn’t emoted. At that moment, he felt nothing. A part of him expected the words to come flooding to him, but they were stuck in his throat as the anxiety gripped onto his shoulders. His hands were numb against the wooden podium. Calum had to work through the pain, so he opened up his mouth.

“I was supposed to– “ He glanced over to his mother, and she gave him the weakest smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. “I was supposed to write something. I was supposed t-to think of an amazing thing she had done when we were friends. I was supposed to wrack my brain for something. You’re just– you’re gonna have to cut me some slack for now. She deserves something spoken from the heart.”

Calum could feel it building. The dull twinge had sparked low in his gut, but he had to keep going.

“Nobody– “ He took a breath. “–nobody ever imagines having to say goodbye. And the sad truth is, they’ll most likely never get the chance.” He closed his eyes. It would all be over soon–– he just had to remind himself so. “I jus’ didn’t think. I’d spent so much time without her, but I always knew I was gonna come back for her. We would eat ramen in our pajamas at three in the morning, and I’d consider it the best day ever. Even through playful insults, she was my world.”

Calum sniffed and continued on. “I was gonna come back for her no matter what. I told her that from the very start. From avoiding sidewalk cracks so we wouldn’t break our mums’ backs, all the way to skinny dipping in the lake by the old camp we met out. But I guess people didn’t really need t’know that.” There were a few laughs. “I was supposed to come back for good. It wasn’t gonna be today or tomorrow, but it was gonna be for her, and it was gonna be for good. All we needed was time. Time to figure out who we were. Time to settle into ourselves before we settled together. We were going to better ourselves so we could be better together. I– “ Calum let the taut string in his chest snap. It had been waiting for weeks to do so. His tears flowed faster than he ever thought they could.

“I was supposed t’come back,” he said through trembling lips and spurring sobs. “And s-she waited, because God, she always had to pu-u-ut others before h-herself. She waited, and it took me t-too long to figure out how-how lucky I truly was.” Calum could no longer see the people before him through the haze of his tears. “I never got t-to thank her for being the best thing I-I ever-r knew. I never got-got t’thank her for making her wh-who I am today. She has every right t’know, but she-she won’t. She won’t see the wo-world like I planned on showing her.”

Calum took a breath to steady himself, and the sobs died down as well. “But we’re not here to wallow in sadness.” He shook his head multiple times. His temples ached. “We’re not here to join grief counseling. We’re here to talk a-about the amazing person she was.” He glanced at the photo of you to his left, and he still couldn’t believe it. He still couldn’t believe the world had lost you. “You were so amazing, darlin’. I-I love you very much.”

His eyes were trained on his feet until the end of the gathering. Even with the light pat on his back from his mum, Calum couldn’t look at another soul. People feasted in the room next door, but he didn’t eat a single bite. The only person he had given his attention to was Thomas as he darted back and forth between your sister and your mum.

The car ride home was silent as well, and not even Mali could lighten the mood like she always seemed to do.

That night as Calum stared at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom, his life with you flashed through his head. As he cried and cried, he swore, somehow, even with his skeptic heart, that you had said to him, “it’s okay, Cal. I’m here. You’re okay. I’m okay.”

"SHAZAM!" (2019) Review

"SHAZAM!" (2019) Review I had been very surprised by Warner Brothers Studios' announcement to produce an adaptation of the Fawcett Comics (later D.C. Comics) character known as Shazam aka Captain Marvel aka Billy Baston. My only memories of the character came from the Filmation television series from the mid-1970s. Not being a fan of this particular series, I regarded this announcement with a leery eye.

The history of D.C. Comics' version of Captain Marvel is an odd and complicated one. Billy Baston aka Captain Marvel aka Shazam was created C.C. Peck and Bill Parker in 1939 and made its debut in Whiz Comics #2, published by Fawcett Comics. The character was an instant hit. Billy Baston was a 12 year-old boy who became a costumed adult with the powers of superhuman strength, speed, flight and other abilities; when he says the word "SHAZAM"! (an acronym for six "immortal elders" - Solomon, Hercules, Atlas, Zeus, Achilles, and Mercury). By the middle of the 1940s, Shazam's popularity had surpassed Superman's. However, D.C. Comics also noticed that the costumed hero bore a strong similarity to Superman and filed a copyright infringement suit against Fawcett Comics in the early 1950s, ending the character's run for nineteen years. Then in 1972, D.C. Comics purchased the rights to Shazam from Fawcett. And in 1991, D.C. Comics required the rights of the entire family of characters associated with Shazam. Like I had said . . . complicated. The plot to this adaptation is a lot more simple. Basically, "SHAZAM!" is an origin story. Written by Henry Gayden and directed by David F. Sandberg, the film began in 1974 upstate New York with young Thaddeus Sivana arguing with his father and older brother during a car trip. Right before a dangerous car crash, Thaddeus is transported to the Rock of Eternity, a magical temple hidden in another dimension. He meets the ancient wizard Shazam, last of the Council of Wizards, who has spent centuries searching for a new champion who is "pure of heart" after the previous champion, driven by revenge, released the Seven Deadly Sins upon the world. Thaddeus is tempted by the Sins, entrapped in statues, and is deemed unworthy and returned to Earth by Shazam. Over forty years later in Philadelphia, foster child Billy Batson runs afoul of the law, while searching for his birth mother. He is placed in a group home with five other foster children, managed by Victor and Rosa Vasquez. Meanwhile, an embittered adult Sivana discovers a way to return to the Rock of Eternity, where he steals the Eye of Sin, becoming the Sins' vessel and besting the Wizard Shazam before returning to Earth. Later, he uses the Sins to murder his remaining family and the Sivana Industries' board of directors. Meanwhile, Billy saves Freddy (one of his fellow foster kids) from bullies and is chased into a subway. There, the wizard summons and chooses Billy as the new champion. By calling Shazam's name, Billy is transformed into an adult superhero endowed with the wizard's name and new powers. And the Wizard turns to dust, leaving behind his staff. While Freddy helps Billy utilize his new powers, Sivana searches for the new Shazam in order to steal the latter's powers. I do not know what to say about "SHAZAM!". It is probably the first D.C. Extended Universe (DCEU) film that I did not warm up to. I am not claiming that it is a terrible movie. I honestly do not believe it is. I thought Henry Gayden wrote a very straight forward narrative that introduced the character of Shazam, conveyed his struggles to control his powers, learn to be a hero and a faced a villain who wanted to steal his abilities. Very simple. Perhaps it was too simple. For me, the most interesting aspect of "SHAZAM!"was Billy Baston's struggles outside of the suit. Billy had to learn to put his past behind him and embrace his new foster family. The movie featured two very surprising plot twists in its narrative. One of those twists featured the other five kids at his foster home. Due to my unfamiliarity with Shazam, what happened in the hero's final battle against Sivana and the Sins at a local winter carnival took me completely by surprise. This first twist involved SHAZAM spell and Billy's foster sisters and brothers. But a previous plot twist not only surprised me, but in a way that truly satisfied. For a brief period, the movie featured a scene in which Billy not only discovered his birth mother, but also learned the truth behind their separation. I was very impressed by the ambiguous nature of this scene and how it helped develop Billy's character arc. I thought this scene was worthy of the ambiguity featured in the early DCEU movies and left me longing for them more than ever. The cast for "SHAZAM!" proved to be first-rate. The movie featured solid performances from the likes of Faithe Herman, Grace Fulton, Ian Chen, and Jovan Armand as Billy Baston's foster brothers and sisters. I could say the same for Cooper Andrews and Marta Milans, who portrayed Billy's parents. Djimon Hounsou gave a nice, dignified performance as the wizard Shazam, who granted Billy his powers. And it was nice to see John Glover, who gave a deliciously spiteful performance as Mr. Sivana, the estranged father of Dr. Thaddeus Sivana. But there were performances that I especially took notice. Caroline Palmer gave a subtle and skillful performance as Billy's biological mother, Marilyn. Jack Dylan Grazer was very entertaining as Billy's disabled foster brother, the nerdy and enthusiastic Frederick "Freddy" Freeman. Mark Strong's portrayal of the villainous Dr. Sivana really impressed me, for he managed to both sinister and emotionally pathetic. The movie's leading man, Zachary Levi, was also entertaining as the recently empowered Billy Baston in an adult body. But for me, the best performance came from Asher Angel, who I thought gave a very nuanced and complex performance as the adolescent Billy Baston, who is reluctant to accept his new foster family, due to his obsession with finding his mother. Despite these virtues, "SHAZAM!" proved to be something of a disappointment for me. Quite frankly, I thought it was a rather bland and conformist comic book hero movie. In a way, it reminded me of 2008's "IRON MAN", a movie that was saved from its mediocre or paint-by-the-numbers narrative by a volatile leading character. In the case of "SHAZAM!", it had a mediocre narrative and direction style saved by a leading character that was a boy in an empowered adult body. In fact, someone had dubbed the film as the DCEU's version of the 1988 movie, "BIG". Otherwise, I felt as if I was watching a comic book movie from the 1990s. I found it sad to watch a movie that had regressed a film genre by two decades. Actually, I found that not only sad, but disturbing. Despite Mark Strong's best efforts, the movie's main villain proved to be unsurprisingly one-dimensional. Dr. Sivana did not strike me as a memorable villain. Nor did his goal - namely the acquisition of more supernatural powers. He came off as a typical villain from the old 1998-2006 television series, "CHARMED". And as much as I admired Zachary Levi's performance, I also noticed that his portrayal of Billy Baston seemed to be at least half a decade younger than Asher Angel's portrayal. Levi's Billy struck me as less mature and more silly. Nor did it help that the one moment that allowed Billy to mature a bit more, happened when he was NOTthe empowered Shazam. It almost made Billy's acquisition of his new powers irrelevant to his character development. And for me, that is not a good thing for a comic book hero movie. I would comment on David F. Sandberg's direction, but frankly it seemed to lack any challenging or innovative qualities to me. Is "SHAZAM!" indicative of Warner Brothers' new direction for the DCEU franchise? I fear so. What a pity. It is not a bad film. The latter featured two interesting plot twists and a first-rate performance from one of its leading men, Asher Angel. But overall, I found both the plot and David F. Sandberg's direction rather bland. The film critics and many moviegoers seemed to love this. Needless to say, I do no share their feelings. And if this is the DCEU's new direction, it can keep it as far as I am concerned.

The Soulless and the Soulmateless 1 (Changbin x fem!Reader)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

↠Word count: 3.64k

↠Genre: soulmate!au ; angst

↠Requested: yes; 《Wow I took up a lot of courage to ask you to write something cause I didn’t want to bother you but can you write a Changbin fic where he smiles through whatever pain he’s going through kind of like 17’s Don’t Wanna Cry? so a little angsty but fluff or character development could work too》

↠Warnings: verbal & physical violence

↠A/N: Alright this took so long! I mixed this request with an idea I had for a long time, so this scenario turned into a soulmate!au. It’s going to have 3 parts, so brace yourselves~ I’m not actually very satisfied with how this turned but whatever. The last part is pretty sloppy in my opinion as I wrote it now until 1 am. Anyway, enjoy!

↠A/N 2: I accidentally deleted it when changing my computer theme akjfkdjn I’m sOrrY

“Mom?” called Changbin as he stepped on the wooden floor of the hallway, gripping his blue plushie in one hand. The little boy heard quiet sobs coming from his parents’ bedroom, so he slowly opened the door, only to reveal the crouched figure of his mother. “Mommy?”

His call was never answered. The sobbing only got louder, the mother throwing the letter she kept reading over and over again on the floor.

“B-Bin, go away,” she whispered, her gaze still fixated on her hands, which soon reached her face to cover it. The little boy only stepped further and crawled on the bed next to his mother. She shoved him away, turning this time to face him. Her face was so red, that little Changbin gulped. “I told you to go away!”

The boy hugged Gyu closer to his body and took a look at the messily written letter on the floor. He hadn’t learnt to read properly yet.

But he could still read the last word on the corner. 아빠 (Dad).

》》

“You look awfully similar to your father,” Changbin’s mother mumbled from her seat at the table. He had to get ready for going outside with his friends. “So similar, it utterly disgusts me.” The fifteen-year-old only closed his eyes and kept on ruffling his hair, arranging it afterwards. Changbin sticked in his earphones before his mother could comment anything again. It became one of his habits.

Several years after the incident, and it still haunts Changbin’s mind. He was too small to process what happened back then. All he could see was the mysterious absence of his father, and her mother’s growing hate for the little boy. He couldn’t understand why, but now he does.

Sitting down on his bed, Changbin opened one of the drawers of his nightstand. He kept playing with the piece of paper, moving it between his fingers, until he unfolded it. He still remembers how he accidentally found it years after his father’s disappearance and hid it in his nightstand.

The boy was disappointed. He lost count of how many times he read the letter, but he still couldn’t believe it was real. His father, also his mother’s soulmate, her destined one, left both the woman and his son because he preffered the lonely life. And ever since then, Changbin’s mother despised his son’s presence in the house. He reminded her of his father, and it hurt too hard.

However, the pain was all hidden deep in his soul. No one outside his little appartment knew about the struggles he went through. Not even his closest friends, whom he trusted more than himself. Not even his friends, who slowly turned into the best brothers Changbin could ever have. He couldn’t bring himself to open up, and he couldn’t help but feel guilty because of it.

He fooled his friends, and himself, too. The slightest trace of sadness was hidden with wide grins, no matter how much his heart was aching. The louder the voices got in his head, the louder his laugh was. It was a neverending cycle Changbin couldn’t break. He didn’t find enough power within himself to do it.

》》

“Ayo, Changbin!” Felix waved, smiling brightly at the jet black haired. He nodded, mimicking the younger’s smile and joined the others on their way to their classes. “What’s up?”

“Nothing new,” Changbin simply stated, turning his face to see Minho returning from his little chat with his friend. He waved at the boys and clung onto Jisung’s arm.

Changbin found it funny how everyone seemed to complete each other. Whenever he was out with the other eight boys, he felt safe. He felt at home. Whenever he spent time with them, he could feel his mind clear up a bit, and make room for happiness, too.

The hardest part at the end of the day was to return home. It was struggling to sneak through the house to even eat. It was doing homework with the music volume turned all the way up in his earphones, to cover either his own voices or his mother’s one.

“Binnie, you okay?” asked Minho. “You seem a little bit lost in your own thoughts.”

The boy blinked a few times and woke up to reality. There was no way he could let his true feelings get to the surface. “There’s nothing, really, I was sleeping so well before the alarm went off and I’m still half asleep,” he lied, earning an understanding look from the older.

“Man, me too!” Jisung suddenly barked, loud like usual. “That damn alarm only goes off when I reach the best part of my dreams!”

“Mind telling us one of your dreams, young man?” Chan cocked an eyebrow at the younger’s sudden mood change. Jisung slowly averted his gaze to the ground.

“Hyung, that wouldn’t be too appropiate,” he started and Woojin gasped, covering Jeongin’s ears.

“Jeongin and I need to get going, goodbye~” he hurriedly chirped, shoving the youngest away from the group. Changbin shook his head, finding his own lips curve into a smile. A geniune one, a smile that only his brothers could bring.

》》

Changbin’s head hung low, his eyes meeting the slightly dusty surface of his kitchen’s floor. “You’re hungry?” his mother asked, the boy’s heart aching at the obvious trace of sarcasm in her tone. “Go buy your own stuff, don’t expect me to do anything for you!”

He simply nodded, storming out of the room and of the small appartment to the nearest convenience store. He was lucky he kept the small amount of money he won a few weeks ago in a silly bet with Jisung, or else he would be either starving or stealing from the shop.

It didn’t ever happen to him to steal. But sadly, he considered it an option in extreme cases like this. Changbin kept wandering through the various isles, eyes darting different things. Yet none of them seemed to appeal him.

Sighing, he took the money out of his pocket and counted every bit of it. “I’d better save it than waste it, shouldn’t I?” he whispered to himself before stuffing the amount back in his pocket and leaving the convenience shop. He chose not to eat, and surprisingly his stomach got louder than his voices. It was, in an odd way, soothing that something other than music managed to cover the loud screams in his destructive mind.

He collapsed in his bed and called it a day. No matter how much he wanted to simply run away from everything, he remained in his desperate state. His heart was racing at several miles per hour, yet he somehow remained calm. In moments like this, the boy couldn’t even understand himself.

If not even him could descipher the weird feelings bottled up inside him, then who would? That’s why he thought opening up to someone would be completely pointless. He was nothing but a blur to himself; how could anyone else understand him if he couldn’t? Changbin has lost his trust in people, ever since both his parents betrayed him. Ever since his father left him physically, and his mother emotionally. He missed being loved, but reviewing his life in the past years made Changbin realise that happiness wasn’t meant to last long for him.

The black haired closed his eyes, taking in the darkness that his eyelids brought. An image of him meeting the other eight friends for the first time flashed through his mind, making his eyes open and stare at the ceiling.

It felt like yesterday. It was quite ironic how happy moments seemed to fly so fast. They passed in such a rapid pace, that Changbin almost couldn’t remember much of them. Instead, he wished cold, dreadful days wouldn’t pass so slow. It seemed like it was life’s intention to test the boy’s patience and limits, stretching them to an extent where he would break down and lose himself. They lasted so long, that Changbin was more than sure he couldn’t stay sane anymore. They kept burning, turning everything into ashes, yet remaining so vivid in his mind.

There were many times happy memories were easily covered with unpleasant ones. Geniune smiles were easily forgotten, as the numerous times the jet black haired cried alone, in his room, kept replaying over and over again. He hated himself for this. But, the more he tried to escape from this dark pit, the more he sank in it.

》》

“Will you stop screaming?” Minho growled at Jeongin, who was spinning and laughing and radiating with pure happiness.

“No, hyung, I met my soulmate!” he squealed, twirling a few more times before finally sitting down on the pavement next to the other boys. Everyone giggled at the younger, except for Changbin. He only kept quiet at the announcement.

No one apart from the principal knew about his father. Not a single one from his friends knew about his leaving, or about Changbin’s awkwardness when it came to soulmates. It was a sensitive topic to him, hence everything that happened in his family.

He didn’t find the soulmate keys interesting anymore. When he was small, he would often fantasize about him meeting his soulmate, but now his interest was completely gone. He was grateful he hadn’t even found out his soulmate key; maybe he didn’t have one.

“Congrats, little man!” Chan cheered, patting Jeongin’s back. “Now we have Changbin and Minho left,” he continued, eyeing the two.

‘I couldn’t care less,’ Changbin thought to himself, 'I’m still praying I don’t have one.’

And, to his dismay, the day he found out his soulmate key soon followed, only with a twist. His was a painful one, which only worsened his current state.

Chemistry class was always a boring one, except for the days they would do experiments. Otherwise, the theory was anything but interesting. Changbin was about to drift into sleep, trapped in his own train of thoughts when sudden pain could be felt coming from the back of his palm. He squealed, squirming in his seat at the growing bruise. Minho turned in his direction, eyeing the younger who stared in horror at the mysterious wound.

“Changbin-ah,” he whispered. “I think that’s your soulmate key.”

The black haired gulped. He banged his head on the desk, earning a few glares from people around him, but he was too lost to even notice. He patted the purplish skin, trying to cease the pain. That was it, the boy had a soulmate, and the thought couldn’t terrify him more.

He was grateful, though. Thinking more about his soulmate key, he came to a conclusion. After all, physical pain would feel nothing for him. He had never felt it, only when accidentally falling or bumping on corners of furniture, but he was more than sure it wouldn’t bother him as much as his thoughts did. Words stab deeper than a knife would.

What mattered was that his soulmate was safe. His soulmate was already protected from any form of pain, and Changbin couldn’t feel more grateful. The boy’s bruises weren’t physical, like his soulmate’s ones.

They were emotional.

》》

Seungmin glanced at Changbin’s head, staring intensely at the forming bruise. “Hyung, look!”

He turned, watching his own skin being painted in purplish blue shades. He sighed, patting the area, then returning to whatever Woojin was trying to say. Only this time his mind wasn’t with the others, it was far from the room, thinking deeply. Changbin tried to convince himself that maybe the wounds were accidental, but something inside him screamed that his soulmate couldn’t be that clumsy. He brushed off the thought, sitting up from his chair to head to the bathroom.

Changbin turned on the tap, splashing some cold water on his face. He still couldn’t manage to get rid of the sleepless nights, so it began a habit for him to make a trip to the bathroom every break. Glancing at the mirror, he gulped at the rosy mark on his cheek, which slowly turned into a purple one. He found himself patting the bruise, his sharp gaze softening at the thought of his soulmate getting hit. He then flinched, realising his sudden burst of care, and retracted his hand.

Changbin sank in his seat, listening to the information his geography teacher wanted to plant in his students’ minds. He felt slightly guilty that, among all of them, he couldn’t manage to focus on anything. Everything he heard seemed to get through an ear and leave through the other one, not even a slight bit sticking to his brain. His teacher’s voice soon couldn’t be even heard, as his own mind took over.

“Changbin,” the boy shot from his chair, his heart jumping from his chest with the sudden call. “Mind if you paid attention to what I’m teaching?”

“Yes, Mr. Kwon…” he mumbled, grabbing his pen to scribble down everything written on the blackboard. The teacher looked at his student, shaking his head slightly at his poor state.

》》

“I’m going out with Chan and Jisung,” Changbin’s voice was flat, as he stopped in front of his mother. She only scoffed and eyed him cautiously.

“Who told you you deserved to go outside?” she questioned, cocking an eyebrow at her son. He only sighed and tried to get past her and leave the house, but his limbs froze at her words. “Do you know how happy I am for your soulmate key?” his mother chuckled, taking a seat on a chair from the kitchen.

“What do you mean?” he asked sternly, locking his gaze with hers.

“I think life acknowledged my thin body,” she started, smiling, “I’m too weak to hit you, so I think life decided to take care of that and give you this soulmate key. Including a physically abused soulmate.”

Changbin gritted his teeth, gripping the side of his sweater tightly until his knuckles turned white. Indeed, his mother was right. That’s what he will only ever deserve, pain. The black haired nodded, lowering his head and stormed out of the house. He fished his phone out of his jeans pocket, dialling Jisung’s number.

“Hi, dude, is ev-”

“Jisung, would you mind if I stayed over at your place after we hang out?”

“No, sure, why would I? Is everything alright?”

“Yes.” he shortly replied and hung up after seeing Chan waving at him. He didn’t realise he was walking that fast, yet he already was at the bus stop where they were supposed to meet. Putting on his oh-so-familiar smile, Changbin joined the two and headed to the city centre.

Yes, he may deserve pain. He may be such a burden to his mother that he began to hate himself, too. But he couldn’t let his friends down, ever.

》》

“Holy f-” Jisung began, but was cut off when Changbin jumped from his side of the bed. “Hyung, go to the sink, quickly!” he yelled, sprinting around the house to find his first aid kit. The younger felt shivers running up his spine as images of Changbin’s arm bleeding kept flashing in his mind. Having that kind of soulmate key was completely terrifying to him.

Changbin cursed under his breath as he let the ice cold water run over his open cuts. He didn’t know why, but he felt tears stinging his eyes at the scene in front of him. It was intriguing for him that the physical pain was soon forgotten, his attention turning to the ache in his heart. He was behaving weirdly everytime he found a new bruise from the unknown person, but never to the extent where his insides felt uneasy. Changbin was worried, and with every second passing, he felt his heart beating faster for his soulmate, even though he promised himself to never get attached to a person like that. Seeing his own family shattered, he was afraid to even think of starting one. But he knew he couldn’t run away forever.

The younger came with the first aid kit, panting heavily as he opened it and grabbed Changbin’s arm. “Changbin-ah,” Jisung cooed while gently clearing the blood. “What did you do to deserve this?” he mumbled, eyes fixated on the wounds.

Changbin only inhaled. He couldn’t break down, he didn’t want to, but he was on the verge of tears as soon as he heard the younger’s question. The words kept repeating in his mind, until the black haired dropped his head and bit his lip harshly to stop it from quivering. “Hyung?”

Jisung stopped and stared at the boy in front of him. He noticed something was off, and sighed when the older wasn’t saying anything. After wrapping his arm, Jisung lifted Changbin’s head, his breath hitching at the sight of the boy almost crying. He pulled him into his embrace, and that was when Changbin couldn’t hold in his emotions anymore. He let them spill and ruin the younger’s shirt, while his hands found their way to Jisung’s back. He was holding onto him like he was afraid of losing him.

Truth be told, Jisung was the first person to ever see Changbin shedding tears, let alone breaking down into sobs. “It’s okay, Changbin hyung,” he whispered, his hand moving soothingly on his back as he tried to calm the older down. “It’s okay.”

If only Jisung knew about all his struggles. If only Jisung knew about the craving for death Changbin felt while being home. If only Jisung knew about the desire Changbin had to simply run away and never come back again. He didn’t know any of these, believing his sudden break down was because of the soulmate key. But it wasn’t.

》》

Changbin coughed loudly while looking for cereal in his kitchen. His mother turned to the crouching figure of his son, smirking as the boy clutched at his stomach. “See?” she began as Changbin coughed again and squeezed his eyes shut. “I didn’t believe there would be another scum like you in the world. And it seems like life wants to get rid of both of you.”

“Fuck off, mom.” he muttered, still grabbing at his sweater. Changbin tried to ignore the annoyed expression on her face, this being the first time he cursed in front of his mother, and slammed the cereal box on the kitchen counter. After grabbing his bowl to leave to his room, he almost dropped it. “I hope you die as soon as possible, Changbin. I lost all my happiness because of you and your stupid damn father.”

He closed the door quietly, placing the bowl on his desk. Changbin then patted his stomach, sitting on his bed and opening his nightstand’s drawer. He only looked at the folded letter his father left, and then looked back to his bruises.

Lifting up his shirt and throwing it on the mattress, the black haired looked in the mirror. Small cuts and purple bruises were sprinkled everywhere on his stomach and sides, making the boy sigh deeply and pat each one of them in a gentle manner.

“Don’t worry, soulmate,” he began, feeling a pang at his chest as he spoke with a small voice. “I-I’ll never be like dad.”

He turned to his bowl of cereal, munching on it while thinking of a way to escape for that day. He smiled lightly, placing the bowl down between the mess of his books and plopped in his bed. Changbin missed getting naps, and the unbearable itch in his eyes only helped him to fall asleep faster, while caressing the cuts on his arm.

He shot up from his bed after seeing the clock going past seven in the evening. It began to get dark outside, as several street lamps shone and bathed the small neighbourhood in light. Changbin ran a hand through his hair, quietly opening his door to get to the kitchen again. As he entered the cramped room, he inhaled the smell of smoke and alcohol coming from his mother. “Mom, did you drink?”

She only smirked, making Changbin step back cautiously. The woman giggled at his vulnerable state, stepping forward after stubbing out her cigarette. It didn’t take Changbin longer than a second to rush out of the kitchen and then out of the house.

He wandered along the deserted streets, mindlessly humming a song which got stuck in his mind. The boy didn’t even notice when he got to the end of the city, lying against a tree. He stuffed his hands in his pocket, looking in front of him as though he was searching for anything to distract him from his mind. His eyes only met darkness, slightly faded by traffic lights which shone in the distance.

His wrist started burning, as if someone gripped tightly at it, but then the pain disappeared in a second. Changbin glanced down at his now trembling hands and balled them into a fist. He closed his eyes, finally taking in the peace of the surroundings, when the faint sound of steps flooded his ears.

The boy’s eyes widened at the fast pace of the steps, getting ready to defend himself. A shorter body bumped into his, both of them screaming in fear. The startled look in their eyes somehow managed to calm them down.

In front of Changbin, a girl panted heavily. “What the fu-”

“Quick, go!” she only whisper yelled, pushing the black haired further into the darkness. The boy didn’t understand the rush, but didn’t hesitate to do as told. They finally stopped when the only sound they could hear was crickets hopping in the grass.

“Ran away?” Changbin asked calmly, observing the younger’s features. She was wearing a long sleeved shirt and jeans.

“F-from them,” she mumbled, meeting her gaze with Changbin’s, who only furrowed his eyebrows.

“Them?”

“The soulmateless. They’re chasing me.”

[Part 2]

Books read in November

I like it when I read a bunch of books with similar-coloured covers in a row . I love it when those covers are all blue.

This was another successful month of reading, including three YA short story collections, two graphic novels and one audiobook (and all the rest).

I’ve asterisked my favourites.

(My longer reviews and ratings are on LibraryThing. And also my Dreamwidth blog.)

Almost Midnight: two festive stories by Rainbow Rowell, illustrated by Simini Blocker: This is super cute. Delightful. “Midnights” is about Mags and Noel over several years of New Year’s Eve parties. I liked how Rowell-ish the story is, and loved the illustrations. They brought the characters to life and gave the story a really strong sense of place. “Kindred Spirits” is about being a Star Wars fan. Elena camps outside the cinema in the days before The Force Awakens’s release, and the experience is not what she expects. This story is geeky, delightful and surprising.. My only disappointment is that there’s no more about these characters.

My True Love Gave to Me: twelve winter romances edited by Stephanie Perkins: After I read “Midnights”, I borrowed the anthology in which first appeared. I’m not a fan of the whole cheesy, commercial idea of Christmas and winter - but I enjoyed these stories more than I expected. They present different experiences of, and attitudes towards, the holiday season. My favourites included Kelly Link’s “The Lady and the Fox”, Stephanie Perkins’ “It’s a Yuletide Miracle, Charlie Brown”, and Gayle Forman’s “What the Hell Have You Done, Sophie Roth?” I really liked Myra McEntire’s “Beer Buckets and Baby Jesus” and Ally Carter’s “Star of Bethlehem” and liked Lainie Taylor’s “The Girl Who Woke the Dreamer” for its prose.

Summer Days & Summer Nights: twelve summer romances edited by Stephanie Perkins: I didn’t enjoy this quite as much as the winter anthology. But I liked that Perkins’ “In Ninety Minutes, Turn North” was a sequel to her story from the previous anthology. That was unexpected and delightful - and the story itself was one of my favourites. My other favourites were “Inertia” by Veronica Roth and “A Thousand Ways This Could All Go Wrong” by Jennifer E. Smith. And I liked how “The End of Love” by Nina LaCour unfolded, and the way time repeated in “The Map of Tiny Perfect Things” by Lev Grossman.

The Prisoner of Limnos: a novella in the World of the Five Gods by Lois McMaster Bujold:  No way was I waiting for the audiobook! This is both a standalone adventure and the third installment of a larger story, following on from Penric’s Mission and Mira’s Last Dance. It’s an interesting case of themes and variations. Another member of Nikys’s family requires rescue, and although the circumstances are different, the politics behind it are not (Her brother has enemies in high places). Penric takes inspiration from Desdemona for another disguise. Nikys is given another example of people whose relationships are successful despite being unconventionally complicated. It’s a much better place to leave everyone than Mira’s Last Dance.

* Shattered Warrior by Sharon Shinn, illustrated by Molly Knox Ostertag (graphic novel):  I’m not really a graphic novel person so I wasn’t excited until I saw the artwork. Colleen’s planet has been invaded by aliens, society and infrastructure have crumbled and her family are dead or missing. I loved the worldbuilding, how expressive everyone’s faces are and how the pictures tell the story. I really liked the balance between action and emotion - this is as much about the choices and connections Colleen makes as it’s about how she rebels. I also appreciated that darker aspects are not ignored but neither are they allowed to dominate. This is a story about hope.

The Witch Boy by Molly Knox Ostertag (graphic novel): In Aster's family, girls become witches and boys become shapeshifters. Everyone discourages Aster’s interest in witchery but he keeps learning in secret. A solid, diverse story about being different and finding acceptance. I'd have stronger feelings about it if the artwork’s aesthetic had appealed to me more. I didn’t dislike it - I loved Ostertag’s illustrations for Shattered Warrior and it’s only the colour palette (and worldbuilding) that’s different here - but I didn’t love it, either? Graphic novels are not my preferred mode of storytelling, so maybe I’m just not very interested if I don’t love the artwork...

A College of Magics by Caroline Stevermer: I've wanted to read this ever since I read the companion novel/sequel years ago. In hindsight, taking so long to find this was actually a good thing, because I couldn’t remember anything remotely spoiler-ish. And I wasn’t disappointed by how much of it is about Faris after she leaves college. This is a mystery about magic and a coming-of-age story about responsibility. It is vivid and poignant and there’s something really lovely about it. I enjoyed the parts about college life, and Faris’ friend Jane is an utter delight. I’m so pleased I finally got to read this.

When Dimple Met Rishi by Sandhya Menon: Two Indian-American teenagers meet at a summer app-development convention. Their meeting is arranged by their parents, but while Rishi believes Dimple has agreed to meet him, to see if they’d suit, Dimple is unaware of their parents’ plans. I enjoyed this, but not as much as I was expecting to. All the comments I’d seen suggested this was funny. And it wasn’t. It was still entertaining and likeable, I just didn’t find it humorous. Because humour is subjective, I guess. Also, I wished there was less focus on the romance - or rather, more focus on other parts of the story.

Provenance by Ann Leckie: Leckie’s new story is about family - the things people do for them and the things people do to get away from them. There were a lot of things I liked. Characters, scenes, ideas. There were moments that made me laugh or took me took me by surprise. I also like how Leckie presents elements of her worldbuilding and leaves the reader to put the pieces together. However I found I had to concentrate extra hard to follow what was going on, and, although I liked them, I didn't feel strongly about the characters. I was expecting that I'd care more...

* Till We Have Faces: A Myth Retold by C.S. Lewis (narrated by Nadia May): The Cupid and Psyche myth, from the perspective of Psyche’s older sister, surpassed my expectations. It is surprising, powerful and occasionally heartbreaking. Orual is fierce in love and anger and her relationships are complex, often more so than is first apparent. She’s not so much an unreliable narrator as a biased one, which I found really interesting. Also interesting is all the ways in which she does not conform to conventional ideas of womanhood - neither as a woman of Glome nor as the protagonist of a novel written in 1956.

The City in the Lake by Rachel Neumeier: A coming-of-age story written in a style that reminded me less of Rachel Neumeier’s others novels and much more of Patricia A. McKillip, and maybe Robin McKinley. An the City, the Prince disappears. Meanwhile, on the other side of the great forest, Timou’s father, the mage Kapoen, leaves for the City and does not return. This is lovely. There’s a dreamlike quality to parts of it, but at its heart, it is very real and emotionally relatable - this story is about losing (and finding) family members. 

In the Greenwood by Mari Ness (short story): Published on Tor.com. This Robin Hood retelling is sharp and unexpected and fraught, in a way that I appreciate in short fiction or poetry but tend to find unsatisfying in novels.

This Adventure Ends by Emma Mills: Sloane, a high school senior, has recently moved to Florida. There’s a lot of different things going on here, from Sloane’s mission to find a painting by her new friends’ mother to her father’s adventures in fanfiction. At first, there didn’t seem to be quite enough space to explore everything properly - although I didn’t mind, because Sloane is witty and I was entertained. But as I read, I realised all of these are actually about love: family relationships, friendships, romantic relationships and the things people are passionate about. I really liked the way everything fitted together.

* Winter of Ice and Iron by Rachel Neumeier:  A tense, atmospheric and utterly gripping story of power and sacrifice. It is almost too dark for me to enjoy it - almost, because there’s thoughtful restraint to how the darkness is handled. The most unusual and complex aspect of the worldbuilding is the influence of Immanent Powers have on politics and those tied to them. But the characters were the reason I cared. By the time Kehera and Innisth’s paths cross, I was completely invested - and conflicted, because they each have the ability to help each other but their goals are different. Neumeier writes beautifully. This is amongst her strongest books. 

Words in Deep Blue by Cath Crawley: Rachel and Henry were best friends until Rachel moved away and stopped replying to Henry’s letters. But after her brother drowns and she fails Year 12, she ends up working in Henry’s family’s secondhand bookshop. Meanwhile Henry has just been dumped and his parents are arguing about selling the shop. This alternates between Rachel and Henry’s POV, which means there’s a lot less suspense as the reader knows what both of them are thinking. On the other hand, knowing what they think of each other gives a sad story about endings - of life, of relationships, of dreams - a hopeful inevitability.

The Extremely Inconvenient Adventures of Bronte Mettlestone by Jaclyn Moriarty: When Bronte was a baby, her parents left her with an aunt before gallivanting off on adventures. Ten years later, she receives the news that her parents have been killed by pirates. Their will insists that she set out alone on a journey to deliver a gift to each of her aunts. This is quirky and entertaining, and what begins as a episodic adventure eventually twists together in Moriarty-fashion. I suspect I would have stronger feelings about it were I still Bronte’s age or if it hadn’t been so light-hearted. All the same, I’d happily read more.

Everything’s Going to be Fine

Member: JiMin // BTS

Main Plot: They have to get the money before their family can suffer.

A/N: @kawaii-hedgehog look at me coming back with another one of your plots, ey, ey?

Words: 2.3k

/ SeokJin // YoonGi // HoSeok // NamJoon // JiMin // TaeHyung // JeongGuk /

When she came to be the first thing that she noticed was the horrible throb at the back of her head. The second was the fact that it was not her eyes fault for being unable to see around her, but some kind of clothing that was thrown over her head.

She felt panic rise at the pit of her stomach, then, her eyes watering at the implications of her tied wrists and blindfolded eyes. However, what was even more terrifying was the throb that now spread all over her skull, pounding at her temples as if with a hammer, trying to crack her bones.

She sobbed, and heard shuffling of feet from somewhere, which made her sob even more, shoulders trembling and voice shaking as she spoke, “Help me…” she begged, and then begged some more, but there was no answer from the person whose feet were shuffling.

It dawned on her then; was this the person who kept her tied up and blinded? She shook her head then, the pain leaving her limp in the uncomfortable chair with a yelp escaping her mouth. She was in so much pain. “Don’t move too much, you’re gonna get yourself killed.” The person finally spoke, the voice light but manly, sweet but grave. It was such a contradiction on itself that she fell quiet, unable to produce a retort.

The steps came closer, and soon the cloth over her head was lifted, yet she was still blinded, this time from the light of the room. As soon as her eyes settled to a bearable level where she could look up without her eyes running wet from her sockets, she recoiled at the man in front of her.

His hair was a rusty brown mess atop his head, brows etched close to each other on his smooth forehead, strong and manly. Eyes were made of steel, she said to self, so dull yet powerful, yet still coloured a pretty molten-caramel brown. Lips, so big and fluffy, were gnawed on by the set of pearly white teeth. He was perfect, but so very stern.

She shook her head, and instead looked up at him with determination. She wanted to speak, but nothing coherent came to mind. Her wrists still struggled against her restraints, but her mind was purely empty. “Who… Am I?” the previous ache in her skull had now faded into a dull throb, and she swung her body back into the chair’s backrest. “Who… Are you?”

His eyes trembled, going from one side of her face to the other, his face paled, ever so slightly, but a weird expression soon settled over his features. “I’m… Park JiMin. Remember me?” he spoke quietly, as if timidly, testing out the waters.

“Who?” she spoke, her head titling.

The man, Park JiMin, took a step closer and towards her, resting his- what she realized to be- small but warm hands over her shoulders, staring right into the depth of her eyes. “Your boyfriend.” He had said, a distressed look over his otherwise dull face.

“Boy… Friend?”

It has been close to a month now, her living in his cozy apartment for a cheap rental price, eating close to nothing but noodles day in and day out, seeing her supposed boyfriend only scarcely as he was working, saying it was for her sake and then sending her that little smile full of nothing but pain.

Her heart was reaching out to him, and yet she still trembled when night-time fell and she was left alone in the unknown apartment with not an ounce of her memories back.

She knew nothing of herself, of JiMin, and of life. Like a little naïve child simply relying on the broken man by the name of Park JiMin. She wasn’t sure whether she was going to be able to continue such a lifestyle.

Often times she wondered whether her boyfriend would have an easier time without her; whether she should run away and leave him be to his own devices, seeing as he spent little to no time with her anyway. He won’t miss me, she often thought, soothing her pained heart.

As she woke up with that cloth over her eyes, she knew nothing of JiMin, but during this month spent with him, cooking for him whatever he had in his fridge, she felt out to him, like a mother to her child- to the point where she truly believed she learned to love him all over again, as she did before she lost her memories.

Leaving him was not an option, not then, not now. She learned to love his presence and little smiles that truly reached his eyes- though those were rare.

His body was flexible, toned and with great proportions, he reminded himself as a cocky grin adorned his face once again, the light shining down on him and hiding the faces of his spectators. The sweat glittered from his body like a bead of prettiest jewels, muscles flexing with each twist of his naked limbs.

You’re a dancer, JiMin, he calmed his racing heart, and this is your audience. Though his job had not been a particularly nice option for a talented man such as him, it paid well and he had needed the money to pay off a part of his debts to a group of boys that took him in. He needed it.

He wasn’t forced to take on this… Occupation, either. It was all his own free will. Needless to say, his dignity was shredded and his self-esteem had disappeared, but at least his debt had been paid. And yet he continued working in that God forsaken place. Selling his body for a little bit of dirty money.

He was tied there, bound by chains heavier than life- it was his personal hell that he so willingly decided to enter- had he known previously that the underworld doesn’t let go of its victims, he would off had laid his own head before entering the place. It was too late for that now.

So, he dragged his tired body home, his head empty, lip busted from some old geezer punching him square in the face for `seducing his wife`. Fuck them all to hell, anyway.

Opening the doors, he fell to his knees, head clutched in his hands as the sleek of warm tears slid down his bruised face. A string of broken curses escaped his lips and he slammed his forehead into the carpeted ground, unable to find rest or even bring himself enough pain to forget about himself.

“JiMin?” a female voice asked, the emotion within being fear and concern. He lifted his eyes up, then, and saw her- his tickets into the clean world without so much as selling himself. Her- his saviour. “Is everything okay?” she took a step closer, then another, and another, and she stood in front of him, her hand on his spine, rubbing up and down, trying to soothe him while her own voice shook with distress.

He still did not have a notion as to why he said he was her boyfriend. Even up till now. But in a way, he was glad he said that. She was spared of the torture from his gang and he got himself a personal maid. No, don’t say that, he scolded himself, looking at her beautiful form through his wet lashes. “Why are you still up?” his groggy voice asked, not an ounce of amusement as he saw her tired eyes.

“Why are you crying?” she whispered back, her hands continuing to rub his back as if consoling a lost puppy. Though he was quick to admit her warmth felt good, he also felt like an absolute trash.

Here she was, a woman whom he abducted in exchange for money, lost her memory because of the hit to the skull that he inflicted, showing him nothing more but good will and compassion. Meanwhile he took it in and fed her lies. Nothing more but cruel, cold lies. He felt like crying all over again.

She laid beside him, singing songs from her childhood, or at least she thought they were, trying to soothe his sobbing, patting at JiMin’s puffy cheeks swollen by his tears. He told her why he cried, alas while yelling and laughing like a mad-man, and she swore she nearly burst out crying and wailing herself. He sold his body daily while she was asleep, comfortable in his apartment to which he paid with his own body.

Her eyes were red as she hugged him then, his body thrashing against her own as she took all of it in, slowly leading him to the bedroom and mingling her hands into his hair.

Though wrecked by emotion of anger and demise, the man fell asleep in her arms, and she was left alone to mend her own heart in his stead. That early morning was a cruel one, wrecking her not only emotionally, but also psychologically, her head pounding in pain as memory after memory was returning in a bright flash of pain.

Park JiMin was no boyfriend of her, and the songs she sung him were indeed of her childhood, previously sang by her mother. She was kidnapped, most likely for ransom, though she also knew it would off have been useless- her father was a strict man, and she was certain there was no love in his heart.

He fed her lies over and over again, and she believed them like the naïve heroine that she was- a stupid, little, lost girl.

Struggling out of the unfamiliar man’s iron grip over her waist, she paddled to the kitchen, leaning over the window sill and staring at the rising sun while the tears spilled from her eyes. So, what am I going to do now? She asked of herself, quietly dabbing at her cheeks with the heels of her hands.

Sure, JiMin had been a savage thug and a nobody to her- normally, she should off have been calling the police right about now, but he was the man who provided her a roof and food, so from this point, she should be kissing his feet.

What about what her heart told her to do, though? Because certainly that little ball of sunshine, note the sarcasm, did not want her to leave and instead stay with the broken man, help him feel human again, get his dignity back- get his life back.

She would stay, if not for him then for her own selfish little heart.

“My memories are back, you know?” she spoke silently after he woke up, casting her eyes down so to avoid the startled glance he gave her. “I know you’re not my boyfriend- nothing close to it, just a thug.”

“So what, you gonna leave me now?” he spoke casually, or at least tried to, digging into his bowl of something that was supposed to serve as late breakfast.

“Would you let me? Wouldn’t be afraid of me going to the police and telling on you and your little gang of criminals?” she challenged him back, her eyes narrowing as she took a seat opposite of him.

His spoon clattered and he leaned back in his seat before saying, “If you’d so desperately want to escape, you’d long have called the police- while I was sleeping, if you want precision.”

“You’re right…” she muttered, nodding her head slowly.

“So? What’re you going to do now that you have your memories?” his eyes narrowed, spoon forgotten as he spoke. “Go back home to your daddy? Just to your information, but we ambushed you for exchange in money. As you know, there was no word from him since.”

“So you kept me with you and hoped that I won’t regain my memories and have a happy life with you instead?” she tried, voice soft but eyes sharp, trying to grasp any emotion on his shard face.

He sputtered then, eyes wide and mouth agape. “What?”

“You said so yourself, no? You took me for ransom. There was not a word from my father. You could off have let me go a month ago, but yet here I am. Lied to that you were my boyfriend. Obviously, you tried to do something, yet I’m not sure what.”

He kept quiet for a while, staring at her attentively, before shaking his head as if deciding whatever he was about to say was not worth the effort and instead starting to eat his breakfast all over again.

“So can I stay?” in answer he nodded his head absent-mindedly to which she smiled big. “But, we’re not a couple- friends. And as your loyal friend I want to start a campaign- stop JiMin from going through pain. Meaning, we will now go out, or after you eat breakfast, and look for a job, or two actually. You will quit your current place, and if you don’t I will go there and start world war three if necessary. I mean it, so be serious.”

She pretended that everything was fine, that the man in front of her was really only a friend of hers, that her heart did not ache from the thought of her father abandoning her. That she did not shake from the fact that the man she learned to love had actually kidnapped her. She pretended to be strong, but really, she was far from it.

So therefore, she decided to abandon her memories completely. Start her life anew. Everything was going to be fine for her. Everything was going to be fine for JiMin. They were going to be fine. They’re going to be normal.

SOWK ch.23/35

Summary:

"Follow me to your destiny..."

Chapter 23 : sauveur

Six thousand, seven hundred and eighty tiles. That was the number of visible tiles in his room, at least. There were some his eyes couldn’t quite distinguish, high up near the atrium. The table (doomed to uselessness by Matthew within the first week as he had little need for it - he ate his meals with the plate in his lap, on his bed) was fixed in place, which also obscured more tiles from view. Three hundred and twenty two droplets. One evening, when studying the constellations through the keyhole which was the atrium became tedious, Matthew purposefully let the tap drip after his bathing ritual. He set it to a painfully slow rate, counting the tiny splashes for almost four hours before sleep finally took him. Matthew had begun questioning the meaning of all this pomp and circumstance. He was sure that they were simply trying to drive him mad; that this was a painful death for those Voix who weren’t good enough, and the real Uniques were being crowned as he poured scalding hot water over himself. But then Matthew remembered the mess that was Dominic and Adora, and he decided that he might prefer insanity after all. Regardless, the days and nights continued to drag by in the endless cycle of time.

*

Dom was beginning to think that the Résistance was all a bit of a joke, and the saddest thing about it was that this realisation had disheartened him. Ever since hearing about this underground group of glouglous that were working against the Voix, he had been lifted from his despair. But now, having met the ringleader of the group, he was disappointed to know that his kind had not a shred of hope for the future. Sighing bitterly, he shook his head. He didn’t even know what his future would look like, with the offering in his hands and the wastelands of Sector Eleven sprawling before him. Within the next hour, he could be welcomed with open arms or forced back into his harsh reality of wanting something he’ll never have. He had to take a risk; he had to take a chance. It’s exactly what Dom had done to even secure the offering. He could’ve chosen a petty trinket but his heart had beaten faster and a grin had crept onto his face when he realised what the perfect offering was. Although, the satisfaction of securing it had been almost too easy. Agostino and Calliope had been spending more and more time at their summer house, something proclaimed daily in Le Monde, and so the Bellamy mansion was empty, save for the household staff. Under the guise of collecting more staff paper, Dom had walked into his office under the scrutiny of another glouglou before turning on his heel and bolting upstairs. Matthew’s room was clean and cold, even though it was blisteringly hot outside. The offering had been sitting on his bedside table, lacking only a large sign saying TAKE ME because it was that simple. For a moment, Dom had wondered if it was some intricate, twisted set up for his sins. Now, as he waited at the entrance to the tunnel with the offering hidden in one of Matthew’s silk pillowcases, his body thrummed with anticipation. “Who goes there?” a voice, familiar to Dominic as Robin’s, barked out in the darkness. “It’s me, Dom,” he called, raising a hand in a wave. “Hello again.” There was a swish of fabric rustling against the floor. Dom rolled his eyes, eyes trying to seek out the man with only the light of the moon to help him. “Oh,” Robin sounded disappointed as he revealed himself with a dramatic pirouette. He sprung towards Dom with great leaps, landing with an unpleasant squelch in a puddle before Dominic’s feet. They both looked down. “Those were new shoes,” Robin said quietly. “Sorry about that.” “You should be!” the glouglou barked suddenly, pointing a quivering finger. “Why have you come here, fool?” “I got the... uh... the artefact thing you were going on about.” He shook the pillowcase helpfully. “Right in here. It was really difficult to get it,” he added with a nod and puppy dog eyes. “You may tell us your story momentarily, boy! For now, you must follow me...” he paused, apparently for dramatic effect, “to your destiny!” Dominic pursed his lips. “Sounds good,” he said, and they traipsed off together back into the tunnel. “Listen,” he said suddenly, his voice echoing, “this isn’t going to be a really long journey or anything, is it? Because I kind of need the toilet.” “We have a bucket you can use,” Robin said impatiently, dismissing the query with a wave of his hand. The rest of the journey through the tunnel passed in silence. Eventually they emerged into the open area designated as a chamber of sorts, and Robin threw his hands into the air, turning in a slow circle. “This...” he declared majestically, “is our home. Treat it well, and we will treat you in the same fashion.” “That’s very kind of you,” Dom said, shifting from one foot to the other as he felt several pairs of eyes on him. There must have been at least thirty other people in the room, all staring at him like he’d just grown another head. They looked grubby and tired and sad, but there was something in their eyes that looked stronger than most of the glouglous he saw elsewhere. He gave a woman a timid smile. She smiled back. “Now, child! What is it you wish from me?” Robin yelled. “Robin.” The woman Dom smiled at called over to him, shaking her head. “Robin, he’s already done all that. It’s the artefact you want off him now, petal.” “Oh. Of course.” Robin swished his cape impressively, swooping his red hair back from his eyes. “The artefact, boy!” he said, holding out his hand. Dominic looked between Robin and the pillowcase, holding his breath as he rummaged around in his makeshift bag. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime of heart palpitations and sweaty palms, he produced his offering and held it out to the redhead. “What is this?” Robin shrieked, whipping the item from Dom’s hands as the echoes crashed around the room. “A photo album,” Dom said slowly, chewing on his bottom lip. “Well, yes, I can see that,” Robin said impatiently, rolling his eyes. “But...” he opened it slowly, and his words fell away from him. “My God. My God...” he whispered. “How did you get this?!” Dominic grinned. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see people edging towards Robin, to get a better look. “It’s a long story,” he said with a shrug. Robin’s head snapped up to look at him, his mutilated face desperate. “You have to tell me, boy. Tell me how you got this.” Dom sighed, arms folded across his chest. “I don’t want to give away my secrets.” Teeth gritted, Robin snapped the photo album closed. “I don’t know how you did it, boy, and it doesn’t look like you’re ever going to tell me... but I fear I may have underestimated you.” He passed the book to another glouglou, reaching out to clasp Dom on the shoulder. “Welcome to the Résistance,” he said solemnly. “You have truly earned your place. Mark my words, child. You will get into the temples, and you will get your vengeance.” The relief that poured through Dominic’s body was incredible. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “Thank you so much.”

*

The next week dragged and flew by at the same time. Dominic was desperate for it to pass; he worried that as more time was put between the present and the last time he saw Matthew, Matthew’s desire for him would’ve faded to a point where risking his life to see him would be completely unjustified. It also flew by at the same time, the skills he learned and the people he met confusing him beyond belief, without time to process it all. Emotionally, Dominic was unstable. He had returned home once, when he knew both Annie and Nancy would be out of the house, to collect some fresh clothes and a certain special possession, and to leave his mother a proper goodbye. Annie. Mum. I’m staying at Scrap’s house for a bit. Not because I don’t want to come home, no, God no. I’m sorry for shouting at you, and I’m even sorry for arguing with Na. As I said, Mum, there’s someone I love, and right now I’m doing something that will hopefully unite me with him. It’s complicated, you see. But... it’s dangerous. I’m putting my life on the line for him. But I’m okay with that, because Dad would want me to stand up for what I believe in. I can’t come back home, because I don’t want the bad things I’m doing to trace back to you. Tell Nancy that, believe it or not, I really do love her, and I hope she has a happy life. I’m going to try my hardest to come home in one piece, Mum. Dom x Since then, he hadn’t even walked near the house, scared that someone knew exactly what he was training for. He continued to sleep on Scrap’s sofa, looking over his shoulder everywhere he went and becoming more alert by the day. He put that down to his training, though. Within the space of a week, he’d learned how to throw a proper punch (although, he was convinced he knew that already), he’d learned how to thrust a dagger straight into someone’s heart (well, a sandbag’s core) and he’d learned how to fire an old flintlock pistol. Robin had imparted on him all his knowledge of the temples, and Dominic had even been surprised when blueprints had been rolled across the corrugated iron table, intricate details about locks and pipes and other things laid bare before his eyes. Dominic was scared, if only because it looked so easy. “The fortress...” Robin had said, Dominic rolling his eyes as the arrogant man refused to refer to it as a temple, “is absolutely impenetrable!” he said, swooshing his cape and pointing a quivering finger in Dominic’s face. After the point had been made, he continued to pace across the room. “Well, it mostly is. There is only one way, really, that it would be possible to get inside a temple to kill a Unique.” Dominic had, over the past few days, gotten incredibly good at not wincing at the thought of Matthew with a dagger in his back. “There’s the connecting lobby,” Robin said, pointing at a rectangular piece on the blueprint. It connected two large squares, which were the temples. “It has four doors going from it. Two of them go into the temples. One goes out the front, only used on the day that the Uniques emerge for the crowds. This one, though,” he said, pointing to one leading to a maze of smaller rooms, “this is the glouglou entrance, this is what you want to be interested in.” Dominic would be doing it disguised. That back door led to rooms that kept the temples functioning: a kitchen for the Uniques’ meals, a stock room full of shampoo for their bathing rituals, a small room full of tools for repairing anything broken and a room full of robes and towels to be laundered. It was a self-contained unit guarded by a handful of glouglous who were kept on heavy rotation. As such, Dominic actually knew half of them from school, and the other half from his Sector. These guards wore dark robes, with hoods right up over their faces. In the dead of night, as he stood at the bottom of the hill that led up to the temples, he was nudged in the back. Turning around, Dominic barely had a second to grab the bundle of clothes before his dispatcher was fleeing down the road. He shrugged the robes over his jeans and grey t-shirt, the fabric consuming his lithe body whole. Dominic breathed in and out slowly as he walked up the hill. There was a dagger strapped to his thigh, and his right hand still ached from where Robin had gripped it and wished him the best of luck, martyr. He approached the back gate of the temple complex, something much less grand than the other entrance. It squeaked open as he passed through, alerting his presence to the guards. The guards were glouglous, yes, but they were armed to the teeth and instructed to kill anyone, Voix or otherwise, who stepped through the gate. Thankfully, Dom’s attire stopped his ribs from becoming intimate with a blade. Yet. He nodded solemnly as he pushed open the door into the complex, the place nearly deserted now that the Uniques had been fed, watered and clothed for the day. A lone glouglou or two wandered the corridor in their black robes, looking miserably bored. Dominic ducked into a side room he had memorised as a pantry, plucking the first item of food he came across from the shelf  - a packet of bite-size chocolate cakes curiously filled with orange jam - and tucked them up his sleeve. Dominic ascended a small flight of steps into the main lobby, head snapping left and right towards each temple door. He thought, no, he knew Matthew’s would be to the right, but he was caught in a moment of panic. What if he was remembering wrong? What if he was using reverse psychology on himself? What if--? “Oi!” Dominic spun right, to the sound of the voice. A taller, black robe clad man stood before him. “What are you doing here?” Gulping hard, Dominic tried his answer, hand slowly and inconspicuously moving towards his dagger, just in case. “Midnight snack for Master Bellamy,” he said, managing to keep the quiver out of his voice. “Oh.” The glouglou before him sounded disappointed that he wasn’t a glouglou intent on killing Bellamy instead, like so many others were rooting for Dominic to do. “Well, go on in then.” Dominic blinked. Was that it? No dagger to the throat or gun to the temple or even a simple fist fight? He tried not to pout as his hand gripped the doorknob tight, ready to push the door open. “Just knock three times when you--” Dominic’s hood had fallen back slightly, his wide grey eyes caught in the light of a nearby candle. The guard had recognised him, and he suddenly dropped to his knees. “Forgive me, sir. You may take as long as you want,” the guard said, not even trying to meet Dominic in the eyes. “I’m sorry?” Dominic sputtered incredulously. “Sir?” “Yes, sir,” the guard said, raising his head slightly. “You’re the one who’s come to relieve us from glouglou tyranny, aren’t you?” Dominic stayed silent, worried that somehow, someone had found out about his and Matthew’s predicament. “Robin has told us how you will make a statement to St. Pierre that the glouglous will be victorious.” But, as soon as Dominic heard Robin’s name, he exhaled. “Yes,” he said, clearing his throat and putting a hand on his heart. “I mean, yes, it is I, Dominic 815231184, freer of the glouglous,” he said, trying to live up to the role placed upon him. “Thank you sir, take all the time you need, sir, I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed,” the glouglou said, shuffling backwards before standing up, still with his head low. With a quick bow, the guard scurried away, leaving Dominic alone with his thoughts.

Inquisitor Somniar

Abstractly

Somniar Lavellan was different; Cullen knew this abstractly. It wasn’t that she was elvhen, or a rogue, or that she seemed to always find something to laugh at - it was in her eyes, her gait, and curious expressions. The mark in her hand seemed nothing in comparison to the look she got in her eyes some times. It was a wild, untamed look - it curled her lip and narrowed her gaze - seemed to change the very air around her.

But it did not happen often - at least not within his sight - but when it did - oh, when it did - it became so very obvious that she was different. She wasn’t like Solas - or Sera - or Fenris - or any other elf he had ever met before or even heard about - Maker, she wasn’t like anybody he had ever met before. It was something dark - something feral - something he should fear - and yet - he didn’t.

It made him feel safe and warm and like he meant something.

Abuse

“Blood magic? He used blood magic on you?” Somniar hissed, and if Dorian hadn’t already been so high strung and emotionally vulnerable he might have realized that the elvhen woman was more than not happy. He simply nodded, words failing him as his heart threatened to beat out of his chest - he was only thankful it was only her in there with him and not Solas and Blackwall too.

The rogue turned her burning gaze from Dorian to his - his - sperm donor and her lip curled back around her teeth showing her rather sharp fangs, “That’s fucking abuse, you damned bastard. Not just physically, but of your child’s trust.”

Dorian realised a little half-heartedly that Somniar was well and truly enraged. Her face had twisted into a furious snarl and the gold in her eyes was more prominent and the ferality in the air around her had surged forward and seemed to cloak her entire being. It has happened before, but not often - and it usually precluded the woman loosing control in some way.

Somniar prowled forward towards the Magister, death walking in her every step, and she purred lowly, “Blood magic is the sign of a weak mind, hmm?”

Halward flinched back, his earlier dismissal of the elvhen woman taking rapid steps to correct itself in the face of the suddenly extremely dangerous rogue. He tried to respond, but words failed him and the snarl on her face curled into a truly terrifying smile.

“The only reason I won’t rip you apart where you stand is because Dorian still loves you, despite the despicable things you’ve done,” she hissed venomously and her eyes bore into his coldly as she finished, “You hurt him again, in any way, and I will do just that, no matter what.”

She turned away from him, facing Dorian once more, and leaving her back to him, and rested a hand on the man’s cheek. She pushed her forehead against his and said lowly, “I will be right out that door. Something even starts to happen and I will be here in an instant, yes?” Dorian closed his eyes, reaching up and holding her hand cradling his cheek tightly and took a deep breath.

Ache

“The ache never leaves. Burns and twists and threatens to break under the weight. Waiting, waiting, waiting, why isn’t she here? Empty space beside and inside - so tired. Old, old, old, death and dying, birth and living - where is she? It’s there, I can feel it, but I can’t help.”

The group froze, looking at each other unsurely, and then at Cole, who was peering at the Inquisitor with distress. Somniar was looking at the spirit boy pensively, and the others tried to puzzle out what Cole’s words meant.

“Old pain, old wounds, old hurt - torn open, can’t breathe - assassin? yes, like her - keep her close even just a little. Blank space in head - alone? lonely, not there, so empty, can’t feel Yūrei - mine, my kittens, family, children, gone, gone, gone - no, I am your kitten - I -?”

The spirit boy paused in his slew of words when Somniar rested her hand on his cheek, cupping his face and leaning down slightly so she could look him in the eye, “You help, Cole.”

He peered at her intensely, searching, and then said, “I do - kitten, family, mine. Must protect - not fragile, but breakable. My kitten - means home, happiness, and warmth - soothes the pain and stitches wounds. I can help.”

He gave a proud little smile and repeated, “I can help!”

Alcohol

“How are you not drunk?” Dorian asked with an incredulous look. Somniar blinked at him, glanced over at the growing pile of bottles next to her, and shrugged. He gave her a look, and she grinned. “Even Iron Bull is drunk,” he pointed out.

“Tipsy,” the qunari corrected, speech only the slightest slurred.

“You’ve had an inordinate amount of alcohol - how are you not drunk or even tipsy?” Dorian continued as if the warrior hadn’t spoken.

Somniar gave him a devilish smile and didn’t answer.

Anatomy

“Always go for the softest part - the jugular, the spine, or the head,” Somniar told the recruit, adjusting the young man’s hands on his daggers, and shifting his foot back a little with her own. “There is more to battle than swinging a blade and hoping it lands - know the anatomy of your opponent and you will be more likely to win.”

Cullen watched the elvhen woman silently, keeping one eye on her and the other on the rest of the recruits. Somniar had wandered over with a faintly amused smile on her face, and had promptly inserted herself into the spars. Some of the recruits were more rogue than warrior, and it was them she inserted herself with.

It wasn’t long before she started teaching them as much as she sparred with them and there was an ease in her manner that told Cullen she had taught before. He didn’t think it came from being the Hunter of her clan, either. The way she spoke and taught was more in line with teaching for battle and war.

It was - disconcerting.

Anticlimactic

“Well, that was rather anticlimactic,” Dorian panted, leaning slightly against his staff and eying Somniar a bit warily. The elvhen woman was casually flicking the blood off her daggers, face twisted in some kind of half snarl that set his teeth on edge.

Her golden gaze glanced over at him briefly, before she practically tore the key from the dead Avaar’s body and stalked over towards the room where the missing Inquisition soldiers were being held.

Dorian felt slightly better when he saw that Cassandra was following after the other woman with her own wary look, rather than the intrigued one Solas was wearing. “Are any of you hurt?” Somniar was asking when he finally caught up with the rest of the group, a growl like undertone to her voice that had the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“No, ser,” one of the soldiers answered a little gingerly. “Mostly just a few scrapes from the skirmish.”

There was low snarl from the newly minted Inquisitor - and her expression told Dorian that the Avaar were lucky to already be dead.

Apology

“I feel I owe you an apology,” Dorian said cautiously, still feeling vulnerable from the meeting with his father, and unsure how to act around this woman who had threatened to rip his father apart if he hurt him.

Somniar cocked her head to the side, and asked, “Whatever for?”

He waved a hand carelessly, for once words failing him, and her gaze softened. She uncurled from her position in one of the chairs, gliding over to him and cupping his face. She brought his face down until their foreheads rested against each other, and soothed, “There are no apologies. You are mine - my kitten - my family. I will be there, whether you need me or not, and for whatever reason there be.”

Axis

Whatever he had expected, what happened was not in any realm of his imagination. He had never expected this elvhen woman to live with the mark pulsing on her hand as if to shove his mistake in his face, and yet - she did.

She had burst into the battle like some kind of wild animal, and then had laughed and smiled as if she hadn’t just easily slaughtered powerful demons. She was Dalish - but she was beautiful. She had a fire in her that reminded him of his people before the fall and it made his heart ache.

She completely threw him off his axis - but still he wouldn’t (couldn’t - didn’t) change his plans and he left, his heart wrapped in ice.

Badmouth

“Don’t you dare badmouth my inner circle,” Somniar snarled lowly, her gold eyes pinning the Chantry sister in place. “Rumors or not, Dorian is apart of my circle for a damned reason, and it’s of no fucking business of your’s of his place there.” The redhead prowled forward, making Mother Giselle take a somewhat fearful step back, and she finished, “So you can take your fucking rumors and racism and shove it up your fucking ass. Leave Dorian alone.”

The Mother looked at the elf with wide, scandalized eyes, and flinched when the golden eyes narrowed. “Watch your step, Mother Giselle,” Somniar growled warningly. “I don’t like something you do, you won’t like what I will do to you.”

Beads

“Come here,” Somniar gestured over at Cole, who had been hovering in the shadows of the stairs. At her motion, however, he creeped over to where she sat at the table surrounded by the Chargers and the Iron Bull. She smiled at him and tugged him down so he sat between her legs on the floor, and carefully took his hat off and placed it on her chair.

The Chargers couldn’t help but stare as the Inquisitor began to comb her fingers through Cole’s hair, before she began to actually braid the short locks. Cole just sat there, a pleased little smile on his face and eyes a little wider, indicating he was listening. Dalish eyed the other elf contemplatively, and then she pulled out a couple beads from the pouch on her hip and handed them over.

Somniar paused in her braiding, eyeing the beads and then Dalish, before she smiled in thanks and began to thread the beads in. “Warmth, family - used to braid his and her hair - source of comfort and relaxation - stress relief, calm - fond remembrance helps stitch wounds. I help,” Cole murmured, pleased smile growing a little wider.

Dalish cocked her head to the side, and then asked, “You have family, Lavellan?”

Somniar hummed, face gaining a rather melancholy look. “Parents are gone, but I have two younger siblings, Ellana and Mahanon. They’re still young, so I was sent to the Conclave instead - I am very thankful for that,” she offered, a wane smile on her face as she finished tying off the braid she’d finished. She noted that Iron Bull narrowed his eyes, but didn’t expand on it.

She knew what he was thinking.

Bear

Somniar stabbed the bear violently, hair threatening to come out of its braid in a wild mane and face set in a wild look, and furious yell fading. “Do I have some kind of bear nip on me? Why won’t they leave me alone?” she snarled, flicking the blood off her blades harshly.

Cassandra grunted with disgust, while Solas looked overly amused at the other elf’s anger. “It must be the brightness of your hair,” Dorian quipped, brushing some dust off of his robes. Somniar shot him a narrowed eyed look.

Beast

“Yūrei isn’t there - where are they? Missing, gone, gone, gone - where did they go?” Cole piped suddenly, eyes wide and peering over at Somniar, who was staring into the camp fire listlessly. Solas frowned, while Blackwall simply raised an eyebrow.

It was not the first time Cole had mentioned this Yūrei and it being gone in relation to the Inquisitor, but it was usually in combination with something else. Cole shuffled closer to the elvhen woman, his hair still in messy braids and notably longer in length, and continued, “But that’s wrong! The beast is still there - waiting, watching, knowing - simply another form, style, being - the instinct, the bloodlust, the aura.”

Somniar had turned to stare at Cole with a sudden intensity that took Solas and Blackwall aback. Cole met her gaze earnestly, and repeated, “Yūrei is there - just different.”

Believe

“People can believe whatever they wish,” Somniar answered idly, lounging over the chair across from Josephine’s desk. “I will only care if it becomes detrimental to me and mine.” Her gold eyes pierced across into Josephine’s own brown eyes, and the Ambassador found she couldn’t quite look away from the intense gaze.

Below

Varric probably should’ve expected it, but still he hadn’t really thought about it - so he could only sigh when Somniar settled on the wall of the battlements in a precarious position that would eventually drive Cassandra into insanity, he was sure. The red haired elf blinked at the two males slowly, and then prompted, “Well?”

Hawke coughed, shooting a look at Varric, that was thinly veiled panic (because what the fuck did you do with a woman who sat on the edge of something with a sheer drop below on the other side?), and the dwarf took pity. “Spitfire, this is Hawke,” Varric introduced. “Hawke, this is the Inquisitor, Somniar Lavellan.”

She smiled.

Beyond

“You are not what I expected,” Cassandra confessed  and Somniar shot her an amused look. The other woman gave her a disgruntled look, and the elf laughed.

“Don’t worry so much, I am often not what people expect, even beyond a first meeting. My siblings have lived with me their whole lives and I still manage to surprise them.”

Cassandra gave her a pensive look, before she said, “You do not talk about them much.” It was an open ended statement, meant to either open a conversation or close it.

The redhead blinked, and then smiled, settling more comfortably on her perch on the table. “I didn’t think anyone would want to know really,” she started, letting out a low laugh. Cassandra blinked, startled, but settled in herself, knowing that Somniar was going to actually talk. “Our parents died when Ellana and Mahanon were very young, they don’t remember them much - I basically raised them after that.”

“How young were you?” Cassandra asked, looking slightly worried. Taking care of another person was difficult, nevermind if you weren’t much older than that very person.

Somniar laughed, “I was sixteen at the time - the twins were a surprise. Our parents weren’t expecting to ever have more children - so, while a surprise, it was a happy one.”

Blindly

“I will not go into this blindly,” Somniar frowned, glowering at her advisors a little. “It is bad enough I am expected to go to a place that endorsed the slaughter of my people, and play nice. So tell me what to expect.”

Cullen gave Josephine and Leliana a look that clearly told them ‘I told you so.’

Blow

“Who do I have to blow to escape this place?” Somniar muttered, leaning over to Dorian so she could in his ear. He let out a startled laugh, looking partly scandalized and partly amused. The elvhen woman draped herself over him, shooting some whispering nobles a withering glare.

“Stop that,” Dorian said amusedly, sliding an arm around her waist (earning himself a pleased hum). “You do need court approval.”

She pouted at him, “But you’re much more entertaining, lovely.”

Cathedral

It wasn’t a cathedral, but it was tucked away enough into a corner Cullen felt comfortable going there to pray. He knew others knew it was there, so he wasn’t overly surprised when Somniar entered while he was praying.

She waited until he was finished before she spoke to him, and that meant a lot more than even he had realized.

Chop

“Let me show you how to bake cookies,” Somniar laughed. “Just because she lied, doesn’t mean you can’t learn now from someone else.”

Sera sputtered, but she looked cautiously pleased at the offer under the bluster. Somniar smiled fondly, “Come on - we can chop some fruit or something and put them in.”

Cinnamon

“Cinnamon is great for putting in cookies, especially ones with chocolate in them,” Somniar explained cheerily, putting some of the spice into the dough and mixing it in. Sera eyed her suspiciously, but copied the move, making the redhead grin at her wildly.

“Just roll about a spoonful into a ball on the sheet and stick ‘em over the fire for about ten minutes,” the older woman explained, doing the actions as she said them.