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mimiplaysgames · 4 years

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Terra Week Day 3 (Dreams/AU)

Summary: Terra hears stories about Xehanort during his apprenticeship. Everyone has something to say about his face. | Word Count: 3,954

Read on AO3

A/N: For Terra Week 2021! You can find that account on Twitter!

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The Tenets of a Master, Ch. 3

To Dream is to risk. To risk is to show bravery. To show bravery is to embody strength. To embody strength is to Dream.

In the middle of construction, Radiant Garden looks as though it’s been dealt an iron fist. Some neighborhoods need their roofs replaced and there’s now what they call an automatic trigger alarm system that is run by motion sensors. They are still clearing rubble from the streets on the west side. The east looks good as new, slowly filling back up with tufts of flowers.

Terra has never been inside Ansem the Wise’s castle (well… him, not him anyway) but it used to be beautiful. It used to stand on brick and alabaster stone, graciously presenting a giant clock mechanism that made it look Grandfatherly, a home away from home, carefully placed gears running three pendulums. Now the remains are held up by pipes. Cranes pull up missing spires that have fallen off. The only part truly original to the castle is still that clock piece. Grandfather had a rough night but at least he’s cleaning up nicely.

Ven jogs to keep up with Terra’s strides. “I saw you talking to Naminé last night,” he says.

“You saw right.”

“I’m worried.”

Terra is worried, too. Aqua, not suspecting anything, is leading the way up the stairs to the front entrance.

“You’re going to have to distract her for me,” Terra says, keeping his tone hushed.

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“Stall her when you get the chance.” At which Ven rolls his eyes. “Just for a short while.” Checking to see if Aqua has turned her head, Terra pretends it’s a casual conversation. With a (painted) smile, he says out loud, “Race you to the top.”

Ven groans and lags behind.

At the top, Aqua greets one of the guards, a tall and meaty man with waist-length dark braids and slick sideburns that might as well be shaped by the edge of a knife. Terra has to push aside the question if this is one of the men who had kidnapped people for the sake of Xehanort’s experiments— the people he will meet today are not the same as they were. He has to remember that.

“Terra,” she says. “This is Dilan.”

Dilan. Terra doesn’t recognize that name.

Speaking of, Dilan takes one glance at Terra before bursting into laughter, haughty and rich.

“Aeleus,” he calls, his tone piercing like lances. “Come and see whose Somebody has finally decided to grace us with his presence.”

Aeleus. Nope, not this name either.

Ven cowers behind Aqua when a head of orange curls appear around the corner.

If Dilan is tall, Aeleus is a beast, a walking fortress with muscles bigger than Terra’s head. It’s impressive enough to make Terra keep Earthshaker close at his fingertips. Aeleus has what looks like a permanent scowl—so woven into his skin that when he smirks, no other muscle moves with it. It must be the eyebrows, but it leaves Terra wondering if he’s going to get his nose caved in at any moment. These men do have reasons to hold resentment, after all.

“I’ve given up on expecting a visit,” Dilan says when joined by his comrade. Two gatekeepers. “And I hardly ever expected to… feel this much when I would come upon your face again.” He grins and its equal parts amused and hurt.

Aeleus grunts in agreement. He crosses his arms and Terra swears it makes him grow another inch.

“If I may,” Dilan continues, “there have been quite the corrupted experiences in our history.”

Terra steps back. Corrupted. Before he can feel too sick, he feels a gentle hand on his wrist, Aqua stepping near him as she waits for his cue.

“I’ve carried such regret since,” Dilan says, hands wrapped behind his back. “I watch every face that passes by this castle, and at the end of each night, I’m left with this vacant pit in my chest, asking myself if we ever shared a shred of self-awareness, would we have pursued our dreams differently?

“Now that you are here,” he presses, angling down. “I realize it matters not what you remember of that time. I know when I see that shackled look in your eyes. I am not alone in this. For that, you’ll have no choice but to share the weight of that debt forever.” He smirks. “What say you, Aeleus?”

Aeleus measures Terra with his eyes. His voice is deep and as dense as rock. “You’re puny.”

Dilan spits into another bout of laughter.

Their roast of him eases Terra. He doesn’t know these men, and they know less of him, but they have a mutual friend called Burden, sharing the cheer. Aqua gets the message that all is fine, and lets go.

“Well...” Terra starts, too self-conscious of the way he speaks. The sound of his voice must be entertaining for Dilan, who’s containing himself. “I’m here to make some things right. Can we come in?”

Dilan sustains a grin and raises a hairy eyebrow, nodding off to Aeleus in some silent conversation. “Did you really think you can have access without telling us the secret password?”

“A password?” Now he feels like a dork. “Can I have a hint?”

“You can give us your heart,” Aeleus says, and Dilan can’t control himself any longer.

With a clap of their hands, the castle doors open, and they spread apart to let Terra and his friends through. Terra has to wonder if normal will ever bless him with its visit ever again. If he could be normal when he hears of others’ stories, when some jokes hit too close to home.

“Come back to train,” Aeleus says, giving Terra a hard knock on the shoulder that pushes him forward. “You need more muscle.”

The castle doors shut behind them with controlled weight, cutting off Dilan’s lingering amusement with a bang. Terra is left with hot ears, massaging his biceps to see if he’s gotten smaller.

“I think they like you,” Ven says.

Pipes line the crooks between the walls and the ceilings. Like a respiratory system, it steams and churns, pumping humid life into the castle. Some of the halls are dark. Parts of the floor are chipped and if not, grimey. They have a long way to go before it looks pristine.

And Terra apparently has spent years here. But nothing gives him that spark. Nothing makes his stomach turn or drops a loaded bout of nostalgia. The very thought of having lived here sounds like an alternate reality that was never recorded, so at best it’s just a story, at worst a lie.

“Soooo…” Ven says to Terra, hands casually behind his head. “Does this place bring back any memories?”

Aqua scoffs. “That’s an awful question to ask, Ven.”

“You mean you’re not curious?”

Terra groans. It’s not the invasive nature of the question, but the fact that he asked Ven to lay low about this mission not several minutes ago and here he is nearly sabotaging it. He flicks Ven at the ear.

“What? I just want to know!”

“I don’t,” Aqua mutters.

Stars. Terra’s pocket buzzes with notifications from his Gummiphone, but he ignores them. Now’s not the right time.

A man steps from around the corner, knee deep in a long, white lab coat with coiffed wrist cuffs and a folded handkerchief on his collar. He walks so quietly that they don’t hear him approach. Clean cut except for the hair—too clean, actually, and brushed over the front, like linen pulled too far to one side of the table.

“Master Aqua,” this man greets with a bright and timid smile behind the curtain. “How pleasant to finally meet you to face to face.”

“Likewise, Ienzo.”

Ienzo. Terra only recognizes it because Aqua keeps in contact with him.

Likewise, when Ienzo looks over her shoulder, he lights up.

“I’m Terra.”

“I can tell.” Ienzo clears his throat. “Pardon, I shouldn’t be so forward, but… You look so much like him.” He clicks his tongue. “I shouldn’t have said that, either.”

“It’s fine,” Terra says, though it’s not.

“I-I can show you around the castle.” He adjusts his collar. “It may seem unhomely now, but I assure you, it warms up in time.”

It’s already too warm.

“This has been home for you for a while, right?” Aqua asks, a plastic quality to her voice as if she’s trying to patch things up. Nothing needs patching though. It’s just awkward.

“Since I was a child.” Ienzo glances back at Terra. “May I say something?”

Everyone has something to say. Terra considers researching a magic spell to alter his face. “Sure.”

Ienzo tightens his collar again, the knot knuckling into his throat. “I really admired him. Xehanort.”

It doesn’t feel like a punch to the stomach but more like his breath was sucked out by a hand after it slapped him in the face. “Um…”

“I don’t mean to be rude. Or forward.” This guy apologizes too much. And will choke himself if he doesn’t stop. “But for some time, ever since I’ve heard word of who you really were, I wondered what it would be like for the two of us to meet. I held no expectations. And yet… Everything about you is so foreign to me.”

There goes Aqua again, standing near and giving Terra gentle notice that she’s there. There goes Ven, gawking up at him and being completely unsubtle about how the conversation has turned.

“Everything about this place is foreign to me,” Terra says, trying to be polite and failing at somewhere closer to aghast.

“I apologize.” Ienzo turns his nervous ticks to his wrist cuffs, effortlessly attempting at cutting off his circulation. “I suppose you could say Xehanort was a profound presence in my life.”

When Ienzo finally catches on to what he’s doing to his clothes, he exhales and puts his hand to his face, thinking deeply, maybe about a time in an alternate universe where lies and stories were real. It makes him look like a child.

“You would have been,” Terra says, keeping himself sweet, “very young when you met him.”

Ienzo nods slowly. “I was a child and taken in to study. Science was a language he spoke with ease and I wanted in every way to emulate that when I grew up.”

Terra can relate. “Was that hard on you?”

“Not in the beginning.” Ienzo slowly finds some courage with every word. “He wasn’t kind… Not like you are. He was polite, however, and he was focused. If anything, Xehanort had a sort of quality that made you believe all the possibilities were in your grasp. No matter what they were, or your age, or level of intelligence. He was magnetic. I grew up thinking I was capable of anything because of his support.” Ienzo stares down at a small puddle building up from the steam. “I wanted to impress. I believed in what he believed, and never once did I think—I justified everything I did. I did not know about you. And I am so very sorry.”

“I get it,” Terra says softly. “He made you feel like you were worth the time and effort.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

And it came with a cost. Terra doesn’t need to say it, and neither does Ienzo, a quiet acknowledgement passing in the moments they nod and paint a smile between them.

“I appreciate you giving me the time to release these thoughts,” Ienzo says. “I’ve struggled with them for some time, especially after waking up again.”

“Happy to help.” Actually it hurts, but Terra can deal.

“Now I must reciprocate my efforts.” Ienzo turns to Aqua. “You are looking for your Keyblade.”

Aqua, for the second time that day, lets Terra go. “Did you find out anything new?”

After a moment, he says, “It is blue. Before you raise your hopes”—he lifts his hands in defense—“neither of us can recall what Xehanort has done with it. I don’t believe I have ever seen evidence of it during my time as a Nobody. We are regressing quite a few years in the past.”

“Oh.”

Ienzo blinks. “I was uncertain if I had dreamed of it, but when I was a child, I would take walks around the castle at night. A ritual I felt I needed in order to sleep. One of those serendipitous nights, I had walked past Xehanort’s personal office.” He glances at Terra, opens his mouth to say more, then thinks the better of it and addresses Aqua instead. (You, but not you.) “He had left the door open. He was studying a large object, electrifying it and concocting different spells to get it to react. I want to say it was blue, but I was not certain what I was looking at.”

They all stare at him in silence.

“He was… toying with it?” Aqua asks.

“I am not sure.”

“Maybe he was trying to activate it?” Ven says.

“Perhaps.”

“How was he that night?” Terra asks, a distinct acidity to his throat and so help him stars, he might just spit it out in the next minute. It’s natural to hold your friends’ Keyblades. This is different.

“Frustrated,” Ienzo says. “I almost want to say that he was on the verge of giving up, as though it had given up on him.”

“That makes it sound like he was attached to it,” Aqua spits.

“That is a possibility. But whatever it was, it didn’t want to work with him.”

Aqua smirks and lifts one elegant shoulder. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Let me escort you to our records room.” Ienzo gestures with an arm to the hallway behind him. “I’ll show you some of his earlier journals. Perhaps there is a mention of it?”

They start ahead except for Terra, who waits until they move several paces before they noticed he opted to stay behind.

“Actually,” Terra says slowly, finding opportunity here and swallowing the acid down. It’s going to take at least two meals to remove the taste. “Being here and listening to all of this makes me a little dizzy.”

Anything involving discomfort with her friends set off panic with Aqua. “Are you okay?”

Ven gives Terra a warning glare.

Robin Hood would have tweaked the truth for the better good. What a horrible thought, stars, Yen Sid has got to be humoring Aqua in getting Terra prepared for his Mark of Mastery.

“I’m just overwhelmed,” Terra says. She believes him.

“Maybe you should step outside.”

Ven puffs out.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Terra says, pressing Ven with a glare back. Have my back. “I won’t be gone for long. I want to be around to help you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Aqua says, checking his eyes for signs of exhaustion. “Get your rest.”

It’s that easy and yet Ven walks away defeated. It shouldn’t take long. All Terra has to do is pull out his Gummiphone and find—

“Naminé.”

She’s back near the entrance. Thank the stars she prefers to use full sentences and could direct him where to go to meet her. When she sees him, she signals to be quiet and gestures for him to follow her. They go down a different hallway, one that is much more well kept than the one Aqua and Ven are taking. They pass by labs this way, some filled with computers, others with flasks, half of a library, and infirmary beds. Nothing so far that looks menacing or painful, but maybe Terra is overthinking the whole Xehanort-tortures-people legend. Or maybe the castle is designed to hide such things.

She takes him to a room with a recliner and several computer screens that are running some diagnostics about the security systems outside, and closes the door behind them.

Someone is already waiting here.

“Riku?”

“Terra.”

“What are you doing here?”

Riku holds his waist and draws out a long exhale, like a tired schoolteacher. “Ven was worried.”

“And spilled the beans.” Terra scoffs.

“And spilled the beans.” Riku smirks and it lightens up his whole face in a way that only fits with him. Terra never has to take anything too seriously for too long when he’s around Riku. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

A mixed feeling of anxiety and relief wash over Terra like a lumpy massage on his shoulders. “I don’t mean to do this in secret.”

Riku shrugs. “I would have.”

“I need to say something,” Naminé says, her arms wrapped around a lineless notebook. Even when announcing to a room, she keeps herself soft and small. “I’m not entirely confident about this.”

Riku snorts.

“How is that funny?”

“It’s not, I’m sorry.” After noticing how she’s staring at him with utter confusion, he waves at her. “You’re a lot more capable than you give yourself credit for.”

Unconvinced, she sighs and motions to the recliner. “Please get comfortable, Terra.”

“What is this going to look like anyway?” Riku leans on the dashboard behind him, a ghostly light silhouetting him like a grim reaper on guard.

Naminé pouts. That same light gives her an eldritch glow, illuminating her white dress. “I’m going to attempt to connect Terra to Xehanort’s memories.”

“Nam,” Riku says, crossing his arms, suddenly serious. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Attempt.”

“Xehanort is dead.”

“But memories stay with you,” Terra objects. They do. He can play them in his head, over and over. He already has for years.

Eraqus lives as long as Terra can replay his voice.

“From what I understood,” Riku says, leaning on his thighs, “you don’t remember being Xehanort. So how can you connect to his memories?”

But death is a one way door.

“He was in my body,” Terra says. However, that Riku is skeptical of this suddenly makes Terra uneasy.

“Would you say you were bonded with Xehanort?” Naminé asks, so quiet it’s a shy whisper, afraid to ignite a bomb with the soundwaves of her voice.

“Does irreparable damage count?”

“That may hurt you in the long run,” she says, pulling a stool aside Terra and opening her notebook on her lap. “What I mean is, the memories we share with other people form the bonds. They link together, like chains.”

Chains. Terra winces.

“You choose who you bond with, in all the decisions you’ve made in the past,” she continues.

In some way, Terra has chosen to bond with Xehanort, hasn’t he? He chose to confide in him, and he carries the shackles all these years later.

“But you are trying to access memories you’ve played no role in,” Naminé says. “There is nothing to link between the two, except for the body.”

“That isn’t enough?” Terra sits on the recliner. It’s stiff and unyielding, but he leans on his back and looks up at the monitor, illegible script running numbers upside down.

Riku groans.

“If you were still carrying Xehanort with you,” she says, “I think I could have made an artificial connection there.” Slowly flipping pages, she grimaces until she finds a blank slate. “Kind of like I used to do. I can create false memories. I can break chains and rechain them. But I cannot propel you to a time you did not exist.”

“I did exist,” Terra says softly.

“What she’s trying to say,” Riku says, getting up on his feet and pacing,“is that you’re doing what Sora did before he disappeared.” Sora, a warning to keep you from getting lost in the woods. “I’m not comfortable with this.”

Naminé splays out crayons on the nearby table: one orange, one blue, a green and a red. She looks sickly. “But Sora went too far.”

“So,” Terra starts, obviously a fool even to himself, “you mean if I don’t go as far, I can be okay.”

Naminé fiddles with her fingers. “I can’t guarantee that. I don’t know what you will end up seeing.”

Terra pauses. He’d be testing the limits of chance in putting Aqua and Ven through this grief again. It’s hard to imagine—Aqua getting the news of something happening, choosing not to cry in front of people she doesn’t know. Robin Hood would have made better choices.

But Aqua would grieve anyway if she goes through those books, picturing no one else but Terra doing all those horrible things. He’s heard some of the stories: the screaming at night, the monsters, the disappearances that start with the children and later swallow the entire family, where neighbors never see them come home again. Xehanort happened to all of them.

“I don’t mean you will disappear.” She lets loose a nervous chuckle.

“But I could go nuts,” Terra says with a painted smile.

“That’s why Ven asked me to be here,” Riku says, that edge of his sanded out some. “I’ve lost count how many times I’ve beaten Xehanort. Or Ansem. They’re the same really. I don’t think you’d be too much of a hassle.”

“Well, thanks,” Terra says, and Riku replies with a fisted nudge on his shoulder.

What’s the fun in playing the game if you already know the outcome? Terra doesn’t know why he’s thinking that way, but he’s absolutely stupid for taking the gamble. There’s no way Yen Sid seriously considers him for Mastery.

And Aqua would grieve anyway.

“I don’t want to let it come to that,” Naminé says, eyes on the floor.

“Are you going to make me watch Xehanort?” Terra asks.

“That’s up to you.” She starts with red. “I can’t make you do anything without writing memories for you.”

“Should let his heart guide him?” Riku asks.

May your fickle, sickly heart be your guiding key to oblivion and all the ridiculous delusions you hold dear.

“It’s a safer way to approach it,” Naminé says, not nodding but not shrugging either.

“Why am I not surprised.”

Terra doesn’t know why she sounds so insecure about her skills when he’s heard nothing but amazing things. “I suggest letting your mind move with your feelings,” she tells him. “Don’t force a thought, and don’t get lost in the emotions. Just sit. Does that make sense?” She taps the crayon to her chin.

“It does.” Terra counts his breaths. In three, out five. In five, out seven. Xehanort. He doesn’t know what to think about Xehanort. Hatred is useless. Revenge is futile. Anger will sabotage his way to Mastery. While Terra has tried his best in his meditation exercises, he’s only done them for the sake of earning good marks in his classes. Settling down, not thinking, relaxing—those are things Terra’s never claimed to be good at, especially lately.

Xehanort walked through these halls with Terra’s body. Should he try and picture himself instead? In the same lab coat Ienzo wears? With white hair, most likely. And definitely too much hair gel.

“What’s it going to be like?”

“A dream,” Naminé says, her crayon drawing loops on the page, though Terra cannot see what it is.

“It already feels like I’m dreaming,” Terra says, watching the ceiling ebb and flow with running lights from the computer monitors behind him. Ever since he stepped in here, it’s felt like he lived a lifetime away from home. No start, no ending, moving pictures that he loses as soon as he blinks. Nothing stays, like waking up and forgetting a whole night.

“I have to warn you,” Naminé says, her voice quieter, “I may have to unchain the memories you want linked together if it gets too hard for you.”

And there, in the midst of wondering if he’s ever going to get this right, he thinks of a white door he’s never seen before.

#kh terra #terra #kingdom hearts fanfiction #kh fanfic #dilan #aeleus #ienzo #namine #kh riku #i'm so exhausted it feels like I'm sprinting #my fic

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dabble-writes · 5 years

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Death’s Bride-- (8)

| Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |

Pairing:

Namjoon/Reader

Summary:

You are a Seer. What is a Seer? A Seer is someone whose sixth sense is stronger than most people’s and can see Death. You did not want to be one, you just want to be normal—yet what happens when Death comes for you? No, not for you to die—for you to be his bride.

*Based on a novel I wrote before in Wattpad by the same title*

Tags:

Romance, Fantasy, Fluff

Warnings:

None. Lots of fluff so you might get a cavity

CHAPTER 6: DEATH’S WIFE

“So this is the infamous Death.” Your mom said, studying Namjoon.

Namjoon shifted his weight to his other foot, a bit nervous at your mom’s stare, “Uh, I actually go by Namjoon now...”

“Yes, Y/N, mention that. Still, you are Death, right?”

Namjoon sighed, “Yes, yes I am.”

“Can you prove it? How do I know you are not some psycho that brainwashed my child?”

“Mom!”, you cried.

“It’s a valid point. I trust you, but I’m not sure about him.”

Namjoon gave her a confused look, “Was teleportating in your living room right in front of you not prove enough?”

Your mom narrowed her eyes at him and pursed her lips, “You make a fair point. You may have some powers that I cannot explain.”

Namjoon went up to her, “I’m sorry I cannot show you more, but there’s only so much I can do. No one around here is going to die, so I cannot show you that.”

There was a pause as your mom studied him, then she nodded.

“Fine, I believe you. You seem pretty genuine.”

“Thank you...?” Namjoon asked uncertainly, turning to you for support.

“Yes, so please don’t file another missing person’s report.”

“...it’s a bit too late for that, dearie.” Your mom said, “though I will call the police department up right away and say to forget it. They might never believe me again, seeing as this is the second time this happened...”

You groaned, “Of course.”

“Need I remind you that you were gone for weeks? I mean, I filed it just in case your whole ‘Death’ theory was some baloney you were brainwashed to believe in.”

“....that’s a fair point. But anyway, there’s something else I need to tell you. It’s about the prophecy.”

“Besides the fact that you’re destined to marry him?”

Your face heat up as you remembered that you’re going to marry Namjoon, “Yes, besides that. I...technically died.”

Your mom studied you, “You don’t look dead.”

You looked at Namjoon for support.

“That’s because she’s not dead. But she’s also not technically alive either. She sort of rebirthed to be Life.”

Your mom looked at the two of you.

“...you can’t be serious, right?”

“It’s true, mom.” You replied, “I am Life.”

“But what does that mean exactly?”

You looked at Namjoon, “Well, so far it’s been pretty vague, but apparently it’s very similar to what Namjoon does but instead of giving souls death sentences I’m helping God with the creation process. I don’t know, I’ll be starting my training next week with God so I should get more details on that.”

“Hold up, you’re going to meet God? Like The God?” Your mother said incredulously, “And you’re going to help him with the creation process?”

You rubbed the back of your head sheepishly, “Yeah, I’m pretty nervous about it. But I talking to God and he seems pretty chill. Interesting enough, he has a sense of humor.”

“The trick is getting him to stop making those horrible jokes.” Namjoon muttered and you elbowed him.

“Stop being grumpy.”

“Wait until you work with him; you’ll be singing a different tune soon enough.”

“Maybe that’s why you got stuck with the death process instead of the life process---you don’t appreciate God’s jokes.”

“Thank God for small favors.” Namjoon muttered.

Your mother still seemed like she was trying to adsorb the news, “...my daughter is Life and is working directly under God...what a concept...”

“Relax, mom,” You said, resting your hand on hers, “it’s fine. It’s still me. But with more responsibilities and having an actual purpose.”

“Are you okay with all of this? It is a huge deal to take on.”

“I think I can handle this.” You replied, “I just hope I don’t disappoint God and make him regret his choice.”

Namjoon placed a hand on your thigh reassuringly, “You’ll be amazing, don’t doubt yourself.”

You smiled at him, “Thanks, Namjoon.”

Your mom suddenly perked up, “Oh my god, I forgot that I was baking cookies. Let me take them out real quick before I burn them!”

You saw your mom rush out the room and gave Namjoon’s hand a squeeze. You really appreciated him coming to see your mom.

“I love you”, you murmured; it was the first time you said it while you weren’t in the midst of dying.

Namjoon smiled, “And I love you. Marry me?”

That made your heart skip.

“What are you on about? Aren’t we already getting married?”

“Yes, but I want to make an actual proposal.”

“Wow, an actual proposal,” you teased, “what happened with the kidnapping scheme? It didn’t work out?”

“I found that it was very unpopular with the ladies.” Namjoon answered and you laughed.

“Can’t argue with you on that.”

Namjoon looked a bit embarrassed, “The other so-called proposal doesn’t count. I don’t want to propose to you because of some prophecy, but because I want to.”

“You want to?”

“Of course.” He replied.

“That’s good.”

“So...what’s your answer?”

You saw a hint of worry in his expression and realized that he thinks that you might refuse him.

“Of course, you big oaf!” You said lovingly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, “Yes, a thousand times, yes.”

“Oh my goodness, you guys are so cute!”

You instantly broke apart and you felt your face heat up, “Mom!”

It was your fault though, you forgot where you were.

“How long were you listening?”

“Long enough to know that I better be invited to this wedding.”

“Of course!” You went up to her and grabbed her hands, “Of course you’d be invited, mom.”

“As long as you don’t mind being in the after-world temporarily.”, Namjoon interjected.

Your mom’s eyes widened, “You’re not getting married here?”

“No, our union will be more...permanent than a human’s ceremony.”

Her eyes lit up, “Oh my gosh, how exciting! Seeing the afterlife, what a treat!”

Only your mom will be excited at the notion of visiting the underworld.

“Thanks, mom.”

“What for?”

“For being understanding...I know this is a lot to take in.”

She smiled as she stroked your cheek, “Honey, I just want you to be happy. If this young man makes you happy, who am I to judge?”

You smiled but decided not to comment that Namjoon is definitely not a young man.

“So do you guys want cookies? I managed not to burn them.”

And here we are. The day.

“Y/N! Why you still doing here? You supposed to be getting ready!”

You turned and saw LE stalking towards you, with her hands on her hips.

“But the wedding doesn’t start for another six hours...” You complained as she grabbed your wrist.

LE rolled her eyes and said, “Don’t be ridiculous, c’mon now.”

“But---”

“Y/N, dear, don’t give LE trouble.” Your mother appeared.

“Mom, I--”

“You decided to get married,” your mom said, “Now you have to go through the preparations.”

LE smiled at Namjoon, “Sorry Death, sir, but we have to get this one ready for her wedding. When we return her, you won’t even recognize her.”

You made a face, “Hopefully I won’t change too much.”

Namjoon chuckled, “I still want my bride, LE, not some other woman. Also you can call me Namjoon, remember?”

LE shrugged, “I forget.”

He turned to you and gave you a dimpled smile, “In any case, I’ll see you at the alter.”

You gave him one last smile before you were dragged off. You huffed.

“I have enough kidnappings to last me for my whole existence.” you muttered under your breath.

“Y/N, stop being so dramatic.” your mother admonish you and you pouted.

They’ve all ganged up on me. Why couldn’t Namjoon and I elope instead? It definitely would have been less dramatic.

You arrived at your room and stopped when you saw who was standing in the middle of the room.

“Grandma?” You said tentatively, tears clouding your vision.

“Oh honey.” She brought her arms wide open and you ran into them, hugging her hard.

She is really here.

“Y/N, are you crying?” Gran asked.

“No,” you answered as you forced your eyes to stop getting watery, “something got in my eye, probably an eyelash or something.”

“Uh huh.” Your mom said, obviously not buying your lie.

“You leave the crying to your mom and I, okay?” Gran said, wiping the tears from your face, “this is a happy occasion.”

“But how are you here?” You said in wonder as you stared at her.

“How could I miss my grandchild’s wedding? Especially my favorite grandchild.”

You laughed, “I’m your only grandchild.”

That was a running gag between you guys and you felt it was all surreal, like it was the time on Earth before you met Namjoon.

“Namjoon let me come, he even let me bring your grandfather; you can meet him at the reception, he’s been anxious to meet you.”

“Grandpa is here?”, you asked in wonder; it was a little too much.

“Come, sit, let’s get you ready.” Gran led you to a chair.

“But, I thought you didn’t like Namjoon.”

She started to brush your hair.

“I just didn’t like the thought that you would be part of a sketchy prophecy with someone you didn’t even know. You’ve been through so much and I’m proud with how you handled things.”

You started to feel your eyes get watery again, “Gran...”

“You really have grown so much since I last saw you.” Your grandma kindly said to you and you smiled.

“You haven’t changed a bit.” You replied, then looked at her closer, “In fact, it looks like you’ve gotten younger...”

Your grandma laughed, “Yes, death really becomes me apparently.”

Your mother then grabbed your hands and started to paint your nails, “You’re such a show-off, mother.”

“You’re just jealous, child.” your grandma said with a laugh and you smiled.

Oh how I miss this.

They continued to get you ready and you heard a knock.

“Is everything fine, ladies?”

You turned and saw Jin walk into the room.

“Hey! Don’t you see the sign at the door that says ‘no men allowed’?” LE said, her eyes narrowed.

“I’m just checking in, there’s no need to be feisty.” Jin answered back.

“Feisty? Come over here and I’ll give you feisty.” LE snapped back and you had to put your hand over your mouth to cover the laugh that threatened to come out.

Ever since Jin learned LE was around, he kept trying to be around her--which would spark a lot of arguments between them. Honestly, you were waiting for the day where one of them will shut the other up with a kiss.

Jin turned to you and smiled, “You look even more beautiful than usual, mi’lady.”

LE rolled her eyes, “So gallant.”

Jin smirked, “Only to proper ladies.”

LE narrowed her eyes, “Out! You’re being so annoying!”

She started to shove him out of the door.

Jin laughed, “No need to be so pushy, my dear. I’ll take my leave. Make sure you save a dance for me.” He blew her a kiss which made her expression sour.

“In your dreams.” LE retorted but you could tell she was amused.

“How did you know?” Jin shot back with a grin, “See you later, Y/N.” And he left the room.

You giggled.

“What’s so funny?”, LE said.

“How long are you going to be like that?” You asked LE.

“Like what?”

“You guys obviously like each other! Why don’t you go out?”

“He doesn’t like me, he’s just teasing me.” she protested and you rolled your eyes.

“LE, it’s plain to see he loves you.” your mom said, “and I just met you two.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You said, “so you should really do something about it soon. Jin isn’t going to wait forever.”

“Maybe I should have that dance with him.” LE said and you smiled.

“That’ll be a start.”

And LE had a thoughtful look for the rest of the time she helped you get ready.

It was when they helped you into your wedding dress that your mom burst into tears, “So this really is going to happen?”

“Yes, mom.” You said as you grabbed her hands.

“It’s just a lot to take in. This may even be the last time I see you.”

“Don’t be silly, mom.” you answered. “Of course I’ll visit you from time to time. Namjoon can travel between the realms after all.”

“Still, it’s going to be very lonely without you.”

You squeezed her hands, “I’m sorry, mom.”

“Let’s not talk about these kind of things.” Gran interrupted, “This is, after all, a happy day. Don’t ruin the moon with depressing thoughts, Brenda.”

“You’re right mother, this is happy day. It should be full of smiles, not tears.” you mother said as she wiped her tears with a laugh.

Gran put her hand on your mom’s shoulder, “I understand, it’s a lot to take in. I remember in your wedding I cried like a baby.”

Mom laughed, “You’re right, you cried through the whole ceremony.”

“Those were happy tears.” Gran said in her defense and you laughed. You loved your mom and grandma’s relationship--it’s very nice to see them together again.

“Don’t mind them, they’re being too emotional. That dress looks very nice on you.” LE said.

You looked at the mirror and had to agree with LE.

It was a simple, white lace dress that trailed to the floor. Its sleeves hung from your shoulders and the cut flattered your body.

“Wow, it’s amazing, thank you guys.”

“Wait, we forgot something.” Gran said and reached for yet another box.

She opened it and took out an elegant silver circlet with pearls and diamonds woven all around it. Gran placed it on top of your head gently.

“Now you’re ready.”

“Why do I need a circlet?” You asked, curious, as you touched the circlet.

“Death, I mean Namjoon, is the ruler of this kingdom. As you’re marrying him, you’re technically a ruler, Also, there’s the fact that you are Life...”

“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to wear it.” Your mom said.

“No, it’s perfect, very beautiful, “you interrupted, “I just never thought of it this way before, me being a ruler. I don’t even know how to rule, what if I’m horrible at it?”

“You will be great,” Gran said, “I’m sure Namjoon will help you if you run into trouble.’

“Plus, you’re such a kind and strong soul,” your mom added, “you will be amazing.”

“They’re right,” LE said, “God chose you for a reason, you’re not going to be letting anyone down.”

You bit your lip, feeling better at their reassurance.

“Thank you. I really love you guys.” You got teary eyed as you brought them into a hug.

Your grandma noticed your tears and started to brush them away, “Aw, sweetie, we are so proud of you. Don’t doubt yourself.”

You nodded, “Thanks, Gran, I really do love him.”

They were right, this was Namjoon. He be there for you and help you if you get to any trouble.

Your mom handed you a gorgeous bouquet of white lilies and baby breath and kissed your cheek.

“Go get him, tiger.” Gran said

LE was right, Namjoon didn’t take his eyes off you when you entered the room. His eyes were bright, his dimples prominent, and he had the most endearing expression; you couldn’t help but smile brightly right back at him.

When you reached your future husband, he murmured in your ear, “You look breathtaking.”

“You don’t look too shabby yourself”, you teased.

You weren’t wrong, his perfectly tailored suit looked really good on him.

The ceremony started, so you had to stop talking, but that didn’t stop you guys from having a silent conversation with your eyes. You don’t think you heard most of the things the priest said.

“Y/N? Y/N?”

Your eyes snapped up to see that everyone stared at you.

You blushed and turned to the priest, “Yeah?”

He looked at you, laughter in his eyes, and repeated, “Do you, Y/N Vita, take Namjoon Mortem to be your eternally wedded husband?”

Wow, you just blanked out on one of the most important parts of the ceremony, how embarrassing. No wonder your teachers always said you had the shortest attention span.

“Of course.”

“It’s ‘I do’, dear.” Namjoon murmured gently in your ear.

“Oh! Yes, I do.”

Namjoon muttered something in the lines of “that’s what I get for marrying a 21st century girl”.

You elbowed him for that.

The priest thankfully ignored your little exchange and continued, “Do you, Namjoon Mortem, take Y/N Vita to be your eternally wedded wife?”

“I do.” his voice rang loud and clear, it reverberated all around the room.

You were just slightly jealous on how better his “I do” was. Just slightly.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

You turned to each other and your lips slowly met. You instantly forgot that you had an audience and melted into the kiss. Well, that was until you heard the cheers and catcalls in the audience (mostly from Jin and LE), then you remembered.

You quickly stepped away from Namjoon and felt your face heat up. Namjoon was just amused at your embarrassment. You both took each other’s hand and turned around.

Then, you took your first step as a married woman.

A/N

We are finally at the end! Thanks for everyone who’s been with me in every step of the way and has been patient when life was hectic and I didn’t update.

Now I can concentrate on ‘The Magician and I’ and a drabble I’ve been working on.

#namjoon fanfic #rm fanfic #namjoon x reader #rm x reader #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts x reader #death's bride #Death AU #death!namjoon #husband!namjoon #bts fantasy

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madrut16 · 5 years

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July Fanfic Challenge Day 3: Closure - Part 1

Author’s Note: Another new pairing! I finished playing this book back in October for Halloween and ILB (which I haven’t really played bc I want a good ending and I cannot afford the diamonds to get it) and I loved it! This is the first book where I haven’t really been drawn to any of the canon LIs so, of course, I had to come up with this! I can’t wait to write more with them and explore these characters post It Lives.

Pairing/Book: ILITW (Dan x MC)

Rating: PG-13

Summary: There’s one last thing Raina needs to do before she and some of the gang leave for the start of a new chapter of their lives in Seattle.

The doorbell rang as I scrambled to finish packing my suitcase, and I cursed out loud when I checked the time on my phone. I knew I should’ve gotten up an hour earlier but I was never a morning person and it took forever to go to sleep last night. Sighing, I stared at the two plastic bins left in my room before running downstairs to the front door.

“I’m coming!” I shouted as I reached the entryway.

I took a second to smooth down the stray hairs that had appeared in the reflection of the old grandfather clock attached to the wall. It was a silly thing to do since he wouldn’t care what I looked like this early in the morning. But, then again years old crushes made you do a lot of trivial things.

With a satisfied nod, I finally opened the door. “Hey! Come in.”

“Took you long enough,” Dan commented as I let him inside.

I gave him one of my signature eye rolls. “Sorry, I was packing.”

“Still?”

“I know, usually I’m much more organized but, I’ve been doing most of this by myself so it’s taken a while,” I explained as I led him back up the stairs. “I swear I’m almost done though, it’s mainly just my suitcase for the road trip I have left.”

Catching my gaze, his lips turned up into a smile. “Good, cause the others are gonna be here in about 15 minutes.”

“I could use some help then,” I replied as we reached my room where I quickly added, “And don’t worry, my underwear is already in there so you don’t have to touch any of that.”

This caused him to chuckle, although I thought I saw his cheeks turn a little red. Or maybe it was just all my imagination, hoping it was true. “Wasn’t even concerned about it. I’m happy to help if it means we actually get to leave on time for a pit stop for coffee and donuts.”

“At Diane’s?”

“Of course, is there really any other option?” He answered with a smirk.

After waking up from the coma and dealing with all of the repressed trauma from Mr. Red and Jane and Noah, it made me happy to see him finally starting to return to his normal self over the past several months.

Packing the pile of sweaters I folded late last night, I responded, “Not in Westchester there isn’t. We’ll have to find someplace like it in Seattle.”

“Oh, I’m sure it won’t be that hard, it’s practically dripping in coffee shops,” he said, handing me the last stack of clothes on my bed. “What are we doing with those?” he asked, gesturing to the closet behind me.

“Already have that covered,” I disclosed, walking over and opening the door to reveal several hangers wrapped in trash bags.

Looking over my handiwork, an impressed expression appeared. “You...really planned this out.”

“Actually this time it was my mom’s idea. Once I get to the apartment, I can just hang them back up and take the bags off. Easy peasy.” I started collecting them from the closet and setting them in the one bin that was left unfilled.

There was a brief pause and I could tell he was deep in thought, almost as if he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if he should. He always got quiet when he did this but, so did I. That’s how I knew he had slipped into his own head. Well, that and the fact that we’ve been best friends off and on for over a decade now.

“Dan?”

“Hmm?” he snapped out of his reflective daze.

“Penny for your thoughts? You got quiet there for a minute.”

Meeting my gaze, he shrugged. “Nothing, I just...it must be hard, not having your parents with you to help move in.”

A small wave of sadness came over me. For almost four years now it’s been like this, them having to miss important milestones and events of my life. They barely made it back in time for my graduation over a year ago.

“My Nana’s...health problems definitely don’t have a convenient schedule,” I sighed. “Especially now that they’re getting worse. Who knows how long they’ll have to be over there this time. They are helping pay my portion of the rent so...I can’t really complain. They're doing the best they can and that’s what matters.”

“Yeah.”

I managed another smile, not wanting to think about it any longer. “Plus, your family will be over there this weekend before classes start, and they’re always there for me when mine can’t be,” I added.

“They do adore you,” Dan agreed with a laugh.

As we finished up the last of my packing, we continued our normal banter until it was complete. Right after that my phone chimed and I saw a new message from Andy in the group chat.

Andy: I’m here with Ava.

Ava: Can confirm.

Stacy: I’m on my way, be there shortly.

Smiling, I sent a thumbs up back.

“Well, we timed that perfectly,” I told Dan who was reading the messages on his phone.

This earned me a boyish grin, and I bit my lip as it stirred up a wave of butterflies. “What can I say? We make a great team. Almost perfect even.”

Was he flirting? God, I scrutinized everything between us these days.

“We really do, don’t we?” I raised an eyebrow teasingly as we headed back downstairs, bringing the bins and my suitcase with us. We set them with the others in the kitchen before letting our friends inside.

“Hey, Raina, Dan,” Andy said, the morning not hurting his energy one bit.

“Hey, guys!” I exclaimed giving him a hug.

I attempted to do the same with Ava but she dodged me and I settled for a hive five instead. “Nice try Raina but, it’s not happening.”

“Oh, I’ll get you to let me one of these days.”

She scoffed in response. “Hah, doubtful. It is fun to see you try though.”

I rolled my eyes as Stacy walked through the door.

“Sorry, I didn’t knock,” she panted out of breath. “But the door was open so I assumed it was fine.”

“Of course it is Stace,” I told her before taking in her haphazard appearance. “Running late?”

She nodded. “I couldn’t decide what to bring! It took me an hour to finally sort everything out. Plus, my mother was delaying me. I don’t think she wants to be by herself.” She frowned momentarily.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Dan chimed in, trying to reassure her. At this point, it was almost second nature. “She just needs some time to adjust.”

“Yeah, I know,” she replied, exhaling the pent up stress she carried. “Doesn’t make it easier. At least Conner is there so, she’ll have some peace of mind.” She rubbed her forehead before painting on a smile.

Andy cleared his throat to relieve the sudden tension in the room. Everyone knew why Mrs. Green was paranoid.

“Ready to leave?” he asked, the keys dangling from his hand.

“I think so,” Dan replied, his analytical gaze wandering around the first floor. “Right Raina?”

I’m about to reply when I remember something. There was one last goodbye I needed to say. However, it meant letting them in on the secret that I’ve been keeping from them. But, I wasn’t one to break a promise and I wasn’t going to do it now.

“Actually, there is one thing that I need to do,” I responded, a nervous knot forming in my stomach. “It should take ten minutes, fifteen at most.”

I was met with four confused stares.

“What do you mean?” Dan asked me.

My gaze drifted to the window where the woods could be seen outside. “I need to visit...Noah.”

The name lingered, slowly sinking into each of my friends’ minds.

“Wait...you’ve been...seeing him?!” Stacy exclaimed first.

I had told them about what had happened between us and what he’d become right after that night but not much else.

I reluctantly nodded. I was tired, exhausted of carrying this burden on my own.

“For several months now. I know, he’s not exactly my favorite person either, and I definitely think him taking Jane’s place was the right thing to do,” I started to explain. “But, I don’t know, I guess he still deserves some mercy, some compassion still. I don’t want to leave him alone out there. So, I sometimes visit him every week or two, just so he has company.”

They all looked at each other and I closed my eyes, bracing for a confrontation. Yet, that’s not what I received.”

“We’re not mad,” Andy said after a minute. “Well, at least I’m not. I will admit that I’m not really that pissed at the guy anymore. And I’m the one whose leg got busted.”

Stacy and Ava still looked hesitant and I couldn’t blame them. Dan was quiet and deep in thought again but other than that, I had no idea how he felt and that scared me to death.

“I’m not completely over him trying to kill us...but I will admit I am tired of holding a grudge,” Ava mumbled, her arms folded tightly across her chest.

After a beat, Stacy sighed reluctantly, a guilt-ridden expression on her face. “Ugh, I can’t believe I’m saying this but...me too. That whole mess brought us back together when we never should’ve separated in the first place.”

That left one person. The person I needed to hear from the most. I willed myself to look at him.

“Dan? Say something,” I begged.

Please.

He shrugged a smile appearing. “You were actually worried Raina?” he commented, and I released the air I had been holding in.

“A little,” I admitted sheepishly. I should’ve known that he’d be the one I’d have to convince the least.

“I never really faulted the guy,” he said. “I mean yeah he betrayed us, but it was for a good reason. He wanted Jane back, his twin. And he mistakenly thought that was the only way he could do it. So, I’m definitely fine with you doing this. I just wish you would’ve felt like you could tell us. Me.”

I physically felt the weight lift off my shoulders. “Thank you, for not hating me. I just...we weren’t there for Jane when she was like this and look what happened. I don’t want the same thing to happen with Noah. I promised I’d say goodbye before we left.”

“Then let’s do it,” he replied.

I was taken a bit back as the others nodded in agreement. “You guys don’t have to come if you don’t want to. Just because this is what I need to find peace doesn’t mean it’s what you do.”

His response was immediate. “We’re a team, Raina. All of us. We got into this mess together so we should end it that way too. I think this could be good for all fo us. Well besides Lucas and Lily who aren’t here.”

“They can come with us when we’re here in December if they want to,” Andy said.

A touched smile appeared on my face. I was so grateful to have them so entrenched in my life again.

“Then let’s go into the woods.”

#playchoices #choices stories you play #choices july challenge #it lives in the woods #choices ilitw #dan x mc

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robynqueenofstuff · 6 years

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The Queen’s Handmaiden

[Ok guys, after much deliberation I’ve decided to share with you an old story I wrote a few years back that I’ve given a few tweaks. It’s essentially an AU about two of my original characters that feature in another much longer story I am working on.]

The grandfather clock was a pinnacle of our kingdom’s architecture, Erect in the town square for visitors to marvel at the magnificent construct. A fascination to those who came from lands whose monuments were either lacking in comparison or non-existent entirely.

It was a mere pain for those who were to rise at the crack of dawn, however, Every morning I toss and turn as the bells chime through our open window in the handmaid's quarters. Lie-ins were a foreign concept to us though I loathe any reminder that I cannot rest forever still I prop myself using my elbows and swing myself out of bed to stagger to the faucet in the hallway before my fellow handmaids could beat me to it.

I am the Queen’s Handmaiden. Well, one of four: a secretary to accompany her to meetings and gatherings, a guard to serve as her protection, a dressmaker to take care of her physical appearance and the principal handmaiden who did all of the above and more. That is my task. Appointed upon her coronation and the only one sworn to serve her for a lifetime. I follow wherever she goes lest she personally requests that I am not needed [This is very much to the king’s dismay] and her de facto court on all personal matters.

The early morning walk through the palace is a task that is silent as the rest of the world surrounding me is still awakening. It was a dry morning and when another early riser rounded the corner and pulled back the curtains the sun unleashed its humidity upon the hall. The robe we handmaidens must wear is ill-suited for this weather but we grow accustomed to it though when the rain comes it does bring some relief!.

The royal kitchens are already bustling by the time I enter and no one turns to greet me. I am just another servant, after all, only the head chef acknowledges me to hand me the queen’s breakfast tray before returning her attention to the sizzling bacon being prepared for the soldiers, bringing her knife down swiftly with rapt concentration.

On my way out I almost collide with none other than His Majesty. The apology I began to stutter out conflicted with my curiosity as to what the king would be doing down this end of the palace so early. I have an inkling but I dare not voice it as he brushes past me into the kitchens, looking back at me with suspicion.

I make my way to my queen’s bedchamber, the palace becoming alive as I pass through as the nobles residing overnight start to gather for their early morning gossip. No doubt talking vile lies about my queen behind her back yet will gladly praise her to her face, Such self-centered blights! I find myself gripping the tray tightly and I must mask my anger. Yet I know I will never tolerate any ill-speaking of my queen who has served us better than we deserve.

Arriving at Her Majesty’s bedchamber I knock and await my signal to enter. Then I bring forward the breakfast and place it besides the newspapers and files laid out in the sitting room. As Fife the dressmaker is normally at the queen’s side during this time in the dawn, I prepare to leave to take my chores and my own morning meal.

But then her Highness calls my name.

“Eada?”

The curtains have drawn back and she is sitting up in bed, visibly dressed in her silk nightgown with her long raven hair a mess due to the early hour. Her eyes were shadowed with tiredness and she wore the grimace she always bore at this time but I could not take my eyes off her.

We handmaidens become used to being referred to as simply “Handmaiden” by so many others but our lady queen always made an effort to remember our names.

“Fife has come down with the pox” she shared “Will..will you aid me this morning?”

“At once my lady.”

I serve her breakfast as well as her morning newspapers and set to work laying out her clothing for the day. She speaks little to me but watches me as I do so, perhaps praying that I do not notice the dark circles beneath her eyes or the cold empty space beside her. I notice but I know better than to question and the shadows do nothing to undermine her beauty.

Once the Queen is ready I follow on behind her to the throne room to stand obediently by her side as she and the King listen to reports from advisors and nobles alike before offering their advice and directions. Her Majesty remains patient the entire time quickly providing possible solutions to the problems presented while her consort fidgets and cranes his head to get a better look at the young beautiful secretary in the corner with little propriety.

Once the session is at an end it is already time for the midday meal. The only noise echoing throughout the room being the rustling of knives and forks, for the king and queen sat in stony silence with scarcely a glance in the other’s direction. I long to fill the silence or at least offer my queen a smile but instead, I keep my head down and continue serving the lunch.

As the table is cleared the queen decides to take an afternoon walk, requesting that I take a break for the afternoon. Whilst I am grateful the afternoon proves uneventful, I simply take my midday meal and sit by myself in the courtyard until the time comes for me to aid the servants in carrying garments from the palace treasure rooms for the evening meal.

As Fife is bedridden I aid my Queen with her evening gown, turning away to give her privacy once she is as naked as a newborn baby and aiding her with her makeup and jewels. While I am at my queen’s side when we enter the dining hall I am soon separated from her as she is seated beside the king and I find myself wedged in beside the representative of a neighboring kingdom.

The man tries to engage me in conversation but I find myself only able to give one-worded answers before he returns to boasting. I push my dinner around my plate counting the seconds in my head, I do not care for this man’s king nor his power and I certainly have no desire to join him in his room this evening! In fact when he makes this proposition I forget all I was taught about etiquette and obedience and excuse myself without warning.

I seek privacy on the balcony where I can feel the late night breeze in my hair and take time to think to myself. I find myself alone for only a few minutes before I hear footsteps behind me. Though I turn prepared to ward away my lecherous suitor from earlier, I instead come face to face with my queen. Her eyes are not focused upon me but rather down at something in the courtyard. I follow her gaze to the alcove by the pond where His Majesty is sat with Eri my fellow handmaiden and the queen’s secretary...and they look a little too close for casual conversation.

Rage bubbles into my head at their disrespect and lack of shame but her Highness seems resigned to the scene before her. If she has any tears to shed she will not let either of those treacherous snakes bear witness to them. Or any members of her court.

That evening she requests I stay with her to keep watch over her and her bedpan. A tummy upset is the excuse she provides my fellow handmaidens but I know the true reason she wishes to not be alone. Though His Majesty will most likely not be visiting her tonight.

In truth, it feels like we are not Queen and servant at all but companions, I lie close enough to hear every sniffle and feel the pillows become wet with tears but I will not complain.

“You are the only one I can share this with” she confessed to me, our heads resting on the satin pillows. My hair has come undone from the bun I normally keep and her fingers run through it as she whispers. “I should not feel anger at this, for I cannot cease to love him if I never did”.

“Fidelity is still sheer decency m’lady, he should not treat you so,” I tell her.

She nods at this, her eyes sliding slightly out of focus “Did your parents remain faithful to each other?”

“I do not know milady” and I truly didn’t. The last time I had seen my family had been when I was ten years old and they ordered me to go to the palace to look for work, saving them having too many mouths to feed.

Her eyes meet mine and I feel her nestle closer to me. “Is there a special companion in your life?” she teased me with a little smile.

Initially, I intend to deny this but I make the mistake of meeting her sparkling eyes again and at that moment I know she knows. I feared the worst might follow my silent confession and I close my eyes in preparation for my dismissal. Instead, I felt her breath hitch against my neck and I open my eyes to see a small smile on her face. And the silent reassurance that came with it.

For the briefest of moments, our lips pressed together and a great warmth envelops me as I relax and slide my palms across her cheeks. Breaking apart, I feel the heat on my cheeks as I confess.

“It’s you..it’s always been you, my lady”

“Please..call me Odelyn.”

#signal boost #creative writing #the queen's handmaiden #short story #original characters #romance #my ocs #eada x odelyn

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futurewriter2000 · 7 years

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Combatants ~ Part 8 ~ final part

A/N: Oh my god, final part is out and this means its over. I finally stopped torturing them. I just want to say because this is the last part that this imagine/fan fic is really important to me. I wrote it when I was in a really dark place and it helped me get through it with the help of you guys and your feedback.

WARNING: Angst (typical), fluff,...

TAGS: @nadinissavage, @lexi-thechaosqueen, @grey-raven, @alohomagines, @bestillmystuckyheart, @maddyfitzhenry, @astrophileslytherin, @literally-anythin, @fashionlive15, @hello-fanfiction-goodbye-grades, @robyn-0790, @beyoursnow, @oreofrappiewithblueberry, @deanilostmyshoe, @hellboundblogger, @thewinterquicksilver, @geeksareunique

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

When you opened your eyes you weren’t in Hogwarts anymore. Your head was pounding and it took you a while to realize where you truly are. It was a dark, cold room with ripped wallpapers on the walls and right next to you was Bruto, tied to a chair just like you. Trying to move and free yourself from the chair, the ropes only tightned and squeezed your chest. ‘They must have used a charm.’ you thought to yourself before looking up at the two men standing right in front of you.

“Twelve years ago men in blue took my father away. It was the worst day in my life. He left me with two little boys and a wolf to take care of. And I did. I ran far away with two boys in my arms and promised father to protect my little brothers. And I did. We hid in this small, deserted house with barely anything to eat. A year later men in blue found us and took us away, seperating Zebedaiah from us. I was furious with them. They took my little brother and gave it to someone else’s family. Yours.” he growled and leaned towards you. “When they wanted to take Gray away I wanted to ripp their heads of. And I did. I brought my little Toto and he did all the work for me instead.” he chuckled and turned around to Gray.

“We decided to pay your parents a visit.” continued Gray and walked towards you. “It was hard to find them but we did. Of course seeing our little brother playing with a young (y/h/c) girl emerged some unplanned jealousy. Because there you were playing with my younger brother while I had to stand on the side and watch it. “

“When you walked inside, I came over to Zoey and talked to him. He was so innocent, so pure and as soon as looked up to me with his green eyes I realized how much I missed him. Of course that was the day I promised him I will get him back. It was facinating. His hair. Just like my mother. It’s a genetic thing, that my family had for years. Like my grandfather had heterochromia, Gray inherited different colored eyes from him and his navy blue hair from my uncle, just like Monty. But Zoey. It was like seeing my mother once more with his green eyes. The same green eyes he got from my mother. Me? I inherited everything from my father. Except my hair. Those love to change color on the light as you might have noticed. See...my father, unlike me, is a horrifying man. You think I am a monster, you should have met him. But luckly for you he is locked away so that’s probably never going to happen.”

“Lucky for us too.” mumbled Gray.

Collin shot his head towards Gray and angrly walked towards him. He grabbed him by the neck and lift him and backed him against the wall. “If it wasnt for him we would still be rotting in that hell hole for what I know! Do not disrespect him in front of me!” he roared and squeezed him tighter.

“Get.off.me.” growled Gray and glared at his brother as he let go of him.

“See (y/n). Like every villian, I have a story too.” he smiled and knelt down to you.

“A villian my arse.” you scoffed and glared at his dark eyes. “More like a pathetic fool.”

Collin chuckled and walked towards Bruto. “You know I always liked you. No matter what you did, I still liked you. I kind of had a soft spot for you Wolfie. Funny right.” he smiled and pulled out a knife. “As for this lad over here.” he spoke in a different, lower tone. “This lad pissed me off.” he snarled and gently brushed his knife against his thigh. “You know Gray told me about this thing. What is it called again brother?”

“Polyjuice potion.” answered Gray gritting his teeth and glaring at Collin.

“Polyjuice potion.” he chuckled. “That.” he added before his face turned completly flat. He pushed the knife in Bruto’s thigh and started twisting it. “You should have never done that!” he growled making Bruto yelp from pain. He pulled the knife out and stabbed the other thigh. “Pretending to be Zoey! I almost believed you! “

“Stop it Collin! “ you yelled.

“Would you rather see Toto do all the work? I bet you want to know how he ripped your parents apart.” he cackled, turning to the door and letting out a whistle.

And there he was. A large white wolf with dark viscious eyes. His fur was long and white as snow as his nose was dark with a small light orange stripe streching right on the middle of it. There was still some blood on his paws and as soon as he smelled the blood he moved towards Bruto.

“NO! You can’t do this!!” you begged, tears falling down your cheeks and struggling to break away from the charm. “Please! Collin don’t do this!”

But Toto was already approaching Bruto. You looked over to Gray, who turned his eyes away from the scene. He didn’t want to see this. He always hated this part, hell he never wanted to be part of this in the first place.

“Jack!” you yelled. “Jack please don’t let him do this! You are supposed to be my best friend. My best friend! Didn’t the time we spent together mean anything to you!?”

Looking at your broken (y/e/c) eyes he felt horrible. Your eyes that seemed to dig deep in his soul, he didn’t know he had. And yes. You meant the world to him. He loved your funny comments, your reactions when he says something dirty, or the way you surprise him with even more dirtier thoughts. He loved you like a sister. He thought of you that way too. You were always there for him. Either was it being annoying or making him feel better everytime he was down. You were there for him in a way Collin never was,

And with Bruto. He cared for the guy even though he was a dick. Bruto was there when you weren’t. And when the two of you bickered, he used to watch and just laugh at his roomate and his best friend fighting over him.

But he was bad. He was supposed to be bad. Right?

You looked over to Bruto, whose eyes were still stuck on you. There was a small smile appearing on his lip. “I love you (y/n). Don’t forget that.” he spoke in a croaky and brittle voice.

“No.” you whispered, feeling tears fall down your cheeks.

The wolf was close to Bruto by now. His snout sniffing him from his toes to his thighs and his eyes suddenly turning red.

“Avada Kadavra!” yelled Gray, pulling his wand at the wolf and blasting a green light out of it. Toto was blasted away and dead on the scene.

“NO!” yelled Collin running to the wolf. He put his hands under his head and stroked him. Toto was dead. The only thing he had of his mother was gone. “You killed him!” he shouted turning his head to Gray.

“Good. That wolf deserved it.” spat Gray, putting away his wand and glaring at his brother.

“This wolf was the only thing left of her! This wolf was her’s!” yelled Collin, walking over to his brother and stopping only an inch away from him.

“And you think she would want her wolf to kill innocent people! Collin this wolf attacked Zoey when he was 4 years old no wonder they took him away!” shouted Gray, standing his ground and looking at his brother.

“They were not innocent!!”

“Yes they were Collin! They were innocent people, who just wanted to adopt our baby brother so he could have a normal family life! A family who loves him and keeps him safe!”

“We could have done that! We could have been that family!”

“What is wrong with you!?! Mom is dead, dad is in prison and you are a murderer! You took away any chance Zoey had at a normal life by taking her parents! If you really cared for him you would let them live!”

“But father-”

“What father Collin!?! He was a terrible father to us! He made us do horrible things. Since we were young we had to steal and lie for him. We had to do things no kid should do!”

“That’s what made us strong. That’s what made us survive.”

“No! That’s what made our family fall apart! That’s what put us here in the first place. God Collin you are just like him!”

“Shut up Gray!” roared Collin, pushing Gray away and clenching his fist. When Gray got up, he stormed at Collin but was knocked down before he could do anything.

He turned around to face you. His eyes burning with fire as he walked over to you and rocked the chair backwards. “You did this!” he growled pulling out his knife. “You bitch!”

“Leave her alone Collin!” yelled Gray and pulled out his wand. “Immobulus!”

As soon as Collin froze in his position, Gray ran towards Bruto. He knelt down, checking his wounds. “Tergeo.” he spoke quietly, pointing his wand on his bleeding wounds.

“You piece of shit Gray! Unfreeze me!” shouted Collin.

“Sorry brother.” smirked Gray and taped his mouth. “I bet father will love to see you.”

“You helped us.” you mumbled quietly and looked ove to the curly hair boy.

“What Collin did...it was wrong.” he sighed, turning to you and untying you from the chair. “What I did....was wrong too.”

“Jack...”

“I’m sorry (y/n). For everything I did I am sorry. I understand if you don’t forgive me for what I did to you, but I just want you to know that I am deeply sorry for what I have done. “ he blubbered and took your hands. “I love you (y/n). Not in the way Black does but I do care for you. I care bloody a lot and I need you in my life, I really do.”

You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him in a tight hug. “I need you too,” you sobbed and gripped him tighter. “But you scared the hell out of me.”

“I know and I swear I’ll change. I don’t want to be a bad person (y/n).“

You pulled away from the hug and cupped his cheeks. “You’re not.” you smiled and brushed the tears away.

“Not to interrupt your heart-to-heart moment but I almost died today and I can barely walk. So could we just go home already?” asked Bruto making the both of you chuckle.

----

“Sirius.” said James, staring at his best friend jumping his leg for the last 15 minutes. “Sirius.” he repeated but got no reaction from him.

“SIRIUS!” barked Remus making Sirius shot his head up.

“Yeah.”

“I swear if you don’t stop jumping that leg I’ll make sure I’ll eat you alive in my werewolf form. For God’s sake I’ve been reading the same page for 15 minutes.” he snapped and sent Sirius a threatning glare.

“Oh well you try pouring your feelings to a girl and then get blasted 10 feet in the air by that Jack guy only to wake up in a hospital and then finding out she’s gone.” said Sirius standing up from the couch and pacing the room.

“Yeah but now she’s back and well.” comforted James, closing his book and looking up at his pacing friend.

“And I still haven’t got a chance to see her.” he sighed and stopped pacing. “Why doesn’t Madam P just let me in?” he huffed and threw himself on the armchair.

“Maybe she hates you.” chuckled James. “Just a thought.”

“Why would she hate me?” asked Sirius, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Beside the fact you call her Madam P, remember third year when you tried to heal me but only got my leg all squishy.” replied James.

“Oh I remember that!” smiled Remus, finally closing his book and engaging in the conversation. “And then you made it flop around.” he started laughing.

“Fun times.” smiled James and laughed along.

“Oh and remember the time Remus came with a broken nose and we tried to fix it with a healing charm but we hexed him instead.” laughed Sirius.

“We just turned 12 and we thought we were such a bad-arses but we only made his head bigger.” added James and continued laughing.

----

And there you were, just entering the portret hole with Peter and finding him with one of the brightest smiles in the room. “Oi guys. Look who I found.” smiled Peter making the others turn around.

“Hello boys!” you beamed.

As soon as he saw you he just stood there. He just stood there and stared at you. He couldn’t believe you were finally back.

Seeing Sirius’ smile grow bigger, James smiled at you and stood up. “Okay so we’ll just leave the two of you alone and if you need us we’ll just be upstairs. Eavesdropping.” said James, winking at you and pulling the other two upstairs.

When the two of you were left alone, a loud silence entered the room. You looked over to Sirius, his eyes set on yours and his thoughts completly lost.

“Well if you’re not gonna break this awkward silence than I-”

But before you could finish the sentance he was already pressing his lips onto yours. One of his hands on your waist while the other was running through your hair, you simply started kissing him back. Finally after all this anger, tension and lust you got the kiss you were craving for months. But before you could deepen it he pulled away.

“I’m done waiting and talking.” he smiled pulled you into another kiss.

-----

After graduation Sirius and you moved in together. It was a small apartment, near James and Lily and the two of you just had a small party, celebrating Sirius’ new job as an Auror. Everybody was here, Peter, Marlene, Mary, Remus, Bruto and Gray except for James and Lily.

“What are they even doing? They basicly live next door.” huffed Remus and took another sip of his coffee.

“I could think of a few things they might be doing.” grinned Sirius and put down a big bottle of firewhiskey.

There was a big groan from the whole group. “ Come on Sirius. One party without alcohol.” said Remus and rolled his eyes.

“I am young. I just got a job. You’ll drink whatever I tell you to drink.” he smiled and started pouring it the glasses.

“I just got dumped so bring it Black. I need to get wasted.” cheered Bruto, lifting his glass.

“The best way to heal a broken heart. Alcohol!” exculted Sirius and poured him the firewhiskey.

“Yeah but if he gets drunk I won’t be the one dragging him home.” chided Remus and took another sip of his coffee.

----

“Remus be still! I can’t tie your shoes!” laughed Sirius, trying to tie his shoes.

“I don’t want to go! I want whiskeyyy! “ shouted Remus walking away from Sirius, but was soon pulled back by Bruto.

“I can’t believe I didn’t get wasted because this git drank the whole bottle.” sighed Bruto and put Remus’ arm around his shoulder.

“Thank you Bruto for taking care of him.” you thanked while wrapping an arm around Sirius.

“Yeah whatever.” he scoffed and walked out of the door. “ But I’m getting wasted next time!” he shouted from behind.

You chuckled and walked in the kitchen. “I can’t believe you made him drink the whole bottle. How is he even alive?”

He came from behind, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your cheek. “It must be the werewolf thing or something.” he grinned and turned your around.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and gently scratched the back of his neck. “You know I still haven’t given you my present for you getting a new job.” you grinned and slowly brushed your lips agains his.

“Oh yeah. I wonder what it is?” he grinned and slid his hands under your shirt.

“Maybe you should ask James and Lily.”

Pulling him down to kiss him, you were suddenly interrupted by a loud knock on the door. You looked up to Sirius only to see mischivious grey eyes looking back.

“Are you expecting someone?” you asked and walked towards the door.

“I might.”

When you opened the door, you almost collapsed on the ground. He was there. Short curly torquise hair with blonde strands and green eyes. Tall 17 year old boy, wearing the biggest smile and showing off his dimples.

“Well are you just going to stand there or give your brother a hug.” he smiled and opened his arms.

“Come here.” you said and wrapped your arms around him. You couldn’t believe it. He was here. Your brother was finally here, in your arms, well and alive. It was so long, so long you couldn’t even remember the last time you saw him. But he was here and you just couldn’t let go.

“I can’t breathe.” he chuckled and let go of you.

“You’re taller than me.” you smiled, letting tears of joy roll down your cheeks. “And you cut your hair.”

“And you have your own apartment.” he chuckled and gave you another hug.

You looked over to Sirius, who was leaning on the wall and smiling at the two of you. “You did this?” you asked him.

“Sirius somehow found where I live and wrote me a letter to come over. “ explained Zoey and shook Sirius hand. “ Nice to meet you officially.”

“Likewise.” smiled Sirius and lead him to the living room.

When Zoey went to the kitchen, you pulled Sirius by the sleeve and pressed your lips onto his. “I love you Sirius Black.”

“I love you too.”

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius x reader #james potter #remus lupin #james potter imagine #remus lupin imagine #marauders imagine #marauders era #marauders #the marauders #i

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missingverse · 6 years

Text

Missing Chapter Twenty Six

So by now the fic has moved quite far from the original idea and is moving closer to the issues surrounding the rest of Arnold and Helga's lives. I'm wondering if I should make this and the next chapter the last two and start another fic about the aftermath? What do the readers think?

Note: Obligatory suggestion to check out my novel on Kindle if you like my work: The Hothouse Princesses by S.A. Hemstock.

…..

Three months on:

Arnold knew his grandfather wasn't happy about letting Ambrose and Helga move into the boarding house, but financially he wasn't really in a position to refuse a paying customer. It looked like the adoption process was going through with no problems, and thanks to Helga's many donated funds she was able to get a ramp installed in the back of the house, as well as repairs done on the ground floor. Even Phil had to admit that it was a relief getting some of the old fixtures replaced.

Curtis Waring's trial was coming up, and although Helga was able to walk with a cane now she couldn't walk for long and would have a permanent limp thanks to a shattered ankle she sustained during her catatonia. It was decided for her own safety that she would stay in the hospital for the duration of the trial, to prevent any backsliding in her condition.

Ambrose moved into the two room apartment without her, and set about making it habitable for a man and a young girl. It hadn't been touched since the last person who lived there moved out seven years before, and had been neglected by both Phil and Arnold since they had all the other rooms to service. Ambrose stripped the dingy wallpaper, tossed the old moth-eaten furniture and gave the whole place a new coat of paint. By the end it barely looked like it belonged in the boarding house.

“Is Helga's trust fund covering all this?” Arnold asked when he stopped by to bring Ambrose a glass of iced tea.

“I didn't touch none of her money,” Ambrose told him from the ladder he was using to paint the wall sconces. “I have plenty of my own.”

He drove back to his old apartment to collect his furniture and his dog, an old bloodhound named Della. Arnold helped him carry the stuff in, and he was struck by how many classic antique pieces Ambrose owned. Ambrose caught him staring at a particularly fancy chair, and laughed.

“Ed picked out most of this stuff,” he explained. “I didn't care so long as I could sit on the porch of an evenin'. But I figured Helga would like that chair.”

A set of pictures went up on the walls, most of them Ambrose's deceased partner or the two of them together with Della lying in front of them. Arnold liked the look of Ed; a chubby middle-aged man with a receding hairline and a quirky grin. It really was a shame that they'd never been able to adopt together, but he knew Ambrose felt like Ed had sent Helga to him so in some way she was their daughter.

“Ed would've loved her,” Ambrose said once. “He always wanted a little girl, especially a little spitfire.”

Ambrose was as good with Arnold's grandmother as he was with Helga. He was patient with her nonsense rambling, which had just gotten worse since the stroke, and he often helped her out with cooking in the evenings. Phil had been quiet, cautious around him at first, but even he came around eventually when Ambrose offered to take a look at any of the broken fixtures in the house.

“I'll take it out of your rent,” Phil offered. “Since you're saving me a repairman's bill...”

“Nah, keep it,” Ambrose shrugged. “I like to keep busy. Let Della warm herself in the kitchen and we'll call it even.”

But what was best about Ambrose moving in was that now Arnold had a lift every time he visited the hospital, instead of having to make the long journey by bus and staying in that crappy motel overnight. Phoebe hopped in with them sometimes, and even Patrick tagged along though he had a car of his own and was busy with college.

Helga was doing well. She had a good, safe place to live when she got out of the hospital, someone to take care of her the way she deserved and her friends nearby. She would have everything she needed. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

Nothing.

…..

On the first day of the trial, reporters showed up on Arnold's doorstep and peppered him with questions as he and Ambrose were trying to leave. He heard at least one ask about him finding the murder scene and a few mentions of the words 'crime forums.'

“No comment,” he managed to remember to say as he barreled through them to Ambroses' truck.

They were worse at the hospital, and were wise to the trick of sneaking Helga out the back. Officer Plaskett covered her with his coat as Ambrose pushed her chair, and by the time they got her into the truck she seemed a little freaked out.

“They had cameras,” she murmured. “I thought they weren't allowed take pictures of me?”

“The gag order is up because you waived anonymity,” Plaskett explained. “Unfortunately, that's what it's going to be like for a while. I'll keep you under wraps as much as I can but realistically a few pictures are going to be released. This case is very high profile.”

Arnold saw her swallow, hard.

“Don't be too nervous,” Plaskett continued. “The defense has been warned to stick to certain topics and not to grill you. The judge will interfere if they get goady, and if you feel like you need a break you just ask for it. Don't push yourself too hard.”

The court was mobbed with reporters, onlookers and a handful of people holding up signs of support or condemnation. There was a pretty shocking amount of people that thought Helga was lying about Waring, and that his other victims were just human garbage that the world didn't miss. The court police cleared a path but they had to carry her up the steps, and Arnold had a feeling that that was an image that would show up on the news that night: Ambrose carrying her bridal-style up the stairs while Plaskett and Arnold lugged her wheelchair behind them.

They were allowed into the courtroom early, to make sure Helga was comfortable and ready. The judge even came in plain clothes to talk to her privately. He looked nice, a grandfatherly type of man, but Plaskett had warned that he was a hard man with a poker face you could never interpret. Waring's lawyer, wearing another painfully expensive suit, came in early too to discuss with the judge.

The jury trickled in, a distinct mix of young and old, men and women from all walks of life. Two black, three vaguely Hispanic, one Asian, four white. According to Plaskett that was a good mix. Spectators and support filled the benches, court reporters took their seats, the prosecuting lawyer arrived too late to talk to Helga but at least looked smart.

Finally, Waring was brought in. In a suit, not even handcuffed, groomed and trimmed to look as normal and nonthreatening as possible.

Even so, Arnold heard Helga draw in a ragged breath and saw her hands clench under the desk.

…..

For three straight hours, Waring's lawyer built up an image of a man who had been accused of nothing more than a misdemeanor. He painted a picture of a shy and quiet man whose desire to keep to himself and live a back-to-nature life in the woods lead to him being accused of murdering prostitutes. He made it sound like the girls who had gone missing from Pocaselas had brought it upon themselves by entering the notoriously risky job of streetwalking.

The prosecution brought up his dishonourable discharge from the military, but even this was dismissed as a petty act by a vengeful ex. By the time Helga was called to the stand, Waring was being painted as a saint with some spiteful enemies.

But even Helga's presence in the court dimmed the lawyer's hard work. The jury looked on sympathetically as she wheeled herself to the bench and was sworn in.

“Could you state your full name for the court, please?” the lawyer began.

“Helga Geraldine Pataki.”

“And, how old are you, Helga?”

“Sixteen.”

“How old were you when you claim to have been involved with my client?”

“I was eleven when he caught me.”

“Caught you? Am I to believe there was a struggle?”

“Yes, he threw something over my head and knocked me to the ground. Then he jabbed me with something.”

“That's a little vague...could you elaborate?”

“A needle. He jabbed me with a needle. Whatever was in it knocked me out.”

“I see....could you tell us where he caught you?”

“In the woods, the hills just outside Hillwood.”

“And what were you doing out there? According to your statement, this was just after dawn, am I right?”

“It was about 8am, I was trying to get downtown early. I spent the night up there.”

“You spent the night in the woods?”

“I had a hideout there, I slept up there sometimes.”

“I see, and what did your parents think of you sleeping in a cave in the woods?”

“They didn't know.”

Helga was impressively stoic on the stand, but Arnold's irritation with the lawyer was building. His rapid-fire questioning was clearly designed to knock her off balance.

“Is it safe to call you a runaway, in that case? Because you had gone hiding somewhere without your parent's knowledge?” he continued.

“I suppose so,” Helga shrugged.

“That's a risky thing for a little girl to do.”

“No riskier than staying at home, I thought.”

“Were you aware that there were other people in the woods at that time of day?”

“No. I'd been staying up there a long time, I hardly ever saw anyone else. It was rough terrain.”

“But the area was open to the public, so indeed anyone could have stumbled across you.”

“I suppose, but they would have had to try very hard. They would have had to been watching me for a while.”

The jury murmured, and the lawyer just about suppressed a frown.

“Let's go back; you were staying overnight in a public area without your parent's knowledge. That's a fact you have in common with a lot of these missing women.”

“I suppose so.”

“Would you have said you were a difficult child, Ms Pataki?”

“Depends on what you mean by difficult.”

“Well, I have some reports here....they use words like hostile, uncommunicative, defiant, rude....I could go on. Would you agree with those statements?”

“To that person, then yes. Maybe.”

“You had a habit of hanging around older boys, am I right?”

Arnold heard Patrick, just behind him, suck in a breath.

“What do you mean by 'hanging around?'” Helga asked.

“You were often seen in the company of older boys.”

“I was on the baseball team with a lot of older boys, so yes, I guess.”

“But outside of baseball, you saw some of these boys socially.”

“Mostly just one, the others I saw in passing if we were all doing the same thing. I was the only girl on the team so they looked out for me.”

“Forgive me, but it's a rare kind of boy that wants to be in the company of a younger girl without getting something in return, would you agree?”

“Then I was lucky, because the ones I knew treated me like a younger sister. Maybe the boys you knew were different.”

A wave of soft laughter echoed in the courtroom. Red spots of annoyance popped up on the lawyer's cheeks.

“Still, running away and hanging out with older boys, that's not a usual thing for an eleven year old girl, is it Ms Pataki?” he prodded. “That combined with these reports suggests you were pretty troublesome back then. Is that fair to say?”

“I didn't realize having crappy parents was such a crime,” Helga quipped.

Now, the courtroom didn't attempt to suppress their amusement; they laughed openly. But when the laughter died down, one person was still loudly chuckling. All eyes in the room turned to him.

Curtis Waring.

He had been blank-faced throughout most of the proceedings, but now tears of laughter ran down his face. When the judge banged the gavel and commanded him to be quiet, he calmed down, wiped his eyes. And then he looked directly at Helga and mouthed three words to her.

That's my girl.

#missing #hey arnold #hey arnold fanfiction #tw: abuse #tw: crime #courtroom drama

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julias-on-jojo · 4 years

Text

I wrote a fic for the first time in like 9 years. I hope y’all enjoy it. It’s self-indulgent and I wanna see my red headed boy happy.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27292222

Or read here, if you’re so inclined:

The summer afternoon hits; the air becoming warmer and warmer, flowers blossoming and thriving in their pots or in the earth. The water demand grows ever higher with every day that passes, not only for the blooming buds and full foliage, but for hard working students who hustle and bustle to finish the first session of the school year.

Two larger figures swim through the crowd of high schoolers dispersing from the campus grounds; one head with bright, red hair, signature cherry earrings framing either side of his face. The other is a jet black mess of hair, hidden underneath a tattered hat, adorned with golden pins.

“School is surprisingly mundane still,” Kakyoin opened, stretching his arms out.

“Mmhmm,” Jotaro nodded.

“You’re not very talkative.”

Jotaro just shrugged at his friend, continuing their usual walk back to their homes. He didn’t say much unless he had to, or if he felt like it. How mundane school is wasn’t necessarily a topic of interest either.

“I wanna have things shake up a little, y’know? Good grades and high test scores be damned, we both know there’s more outside of this!” Kakyoin’s burst of energy was certainly a change of pace, considering the months he’d spent bedbound and drained.

“You sure you’re not overdoing it?”

“Hmm?” Kakyoin raised an eyebrow, a pensive expression on his face. Jotaro’s shoulders went back as he adjusted his posture, standing up straighter, his height overshadowing his friend. “Oh, yeah, that ...”

The redhead’s arms wrapped around his torso. The skin grafts and scarring hiding beneath the fabric of his shirt, lacking the full sensation his skin once had. The middle of his spine downward now inorganic, attached with wires and an artificial, metal covering that stuck out like a sore thumb. Thankfully, it wasn’t incredibly obvious by looking at him, but it’s still a painful reminder of the journey to Egypt.

“Your doctor said your mobility may wane over time. I know it hasn’t been long, but you sure you’re not off balance or anything?”

“I- I’m okay,” Kakyoin sighed, gripping his gut. “I haven’t been pushing it, staying out of PE helps, and I’ve been doing the exercises I was told to do! The neurologist and PT cleared me to walk without the braces on, so-“

Jotaro moved one hand from his pocket to his friend’s shoulder, “I just don’t want your energy to get ahead of you.”

Kakyoin laughed and swatted the hand away, “if I collapse you’ll just have to- ... Jojo, whose car ... cars? Whose cars are those outside of your house?”

Jotaro’s eyes shifted forward, taking in the view before him. A van and a luxury vehicle? His mother didn’t have anything like this, and his dad wasn’t the one driving if a car was around. The van would maybe be one of the neighbors, but it was too new. It didn’t have the worn out, finger-smudged, family “loved” appearance as any other family’s car. Why on Earth would that be parked next to a nice luxury rental?

Jotaro’s expression went from thoughtful to shock as he heard his name being bellowed in a familiar, gruff voice.

“JOTARO, THERE’S MY GRANDSON!!”

“Oh good gri-oof!” The catchphrase was cut off by a smiling Joseph Joestar, wrapping two muscular arms around the grouchy teen and lifting him slightly.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Joestar!! Welcome back to Japan!” Kakyoin smiled with a wave.

“Kakyoin!! Glad to see you up and walking!” Joseph grabbed him and the two hugged, having been apart since the trip.

“More than that, I assure you. I’m basically back to normal!”

“What are you doing here, gramps?” Jotaro asked, straightening out his uniform.

Joseph frowned, “What? Am I not allowed to visit my daughter and grandson?!”

“Excuse me, Mr. Joestar? I take it this is the boy you’ve been talking about?” A new voice, not Holly, and certainly not Japanese.

Joseph turned back toward the house, his signature grin spreading across his face, “The one and only!”

A girl stepped forward from the house and into the entrance of the Kujo household. Overshadowed by the three crusaders, chestnut colored hair laying straight, and hazel eyes taking in the two, new figures before her.

The girl stepped forward, clearing her throat, and, in the best Japanese she could muster, “<It’s nice to meet you! My name is Mae.>” Her hand outstretched for a handshake.

Jotaro and Kakyoin looked at each other, and while Jotaro rolled his eyes and scoffed, Kakyoin laughed and shook her hand.

“Your Japanese is great! I’m Noriyaki Kakyoin,” his hand dropped from their mutual grip and pointed over at the taller boy, “and that guy over there is, indeed, Jotaro Kujo.”

“Thank you! I’m glad I said everything right, I’ve been practicing for so long ... your English is fantastic!”

Kakyoin smiled, “Thank you. I appreciate your willingness to learn the language, <but you don’t speak fluently, do you?>”

“Uh ... <hold on, wait a moment,> um ... I- sorry, I uh ...” the girl became flustered trying to respond, “I don’t speak as much as I wish I did.” Embarrassment crept up on her cheeks as a pink blush.

“No need to worry about that here, miss Mae,” Joseph reassured her, “In this household, English is enough to communicate!”

Kakyoin couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place, even if English was a second language to him. He turned back to Jotaro, who was doing his best to just try and shrink away, despite his massive size. English wasn’t his friend’s forte, even with having an American mom. With someone who wholeheartedly accepted her husbands culture like Holly, Japanese was the primary language in the house. Jotaro’s English wasn’t terrible, per say, but definitely not fluent.

“< You okay? >”

“< I hate women, they’re so annoying! >” Jotaro snarled.

“< Be nice! She’s a guest with your granddad! >”

“< Doesn’t stop her from being rude. >”

“< What do you- >“ Jotaro pointed over at the girl. Even if Joseph was busy speaking at her and being the doting old man he’s proven to be, Mae was staring.

Jotaro walked forward and entered the house, arm colliding with Mae’s shoulder, nearly knocking her over ... and definitely out of her stupor.

“Jotaro! What the hell was that?! Is that any way to treat someone, especially a guest?!” Joseph scolded, chasing after his grandson.

Mae turned, her gaze following the Joestar men into the house, rubbing her shoulder. The embarrassment was visible on her face.

Kakyoin sighed, wrapping an arm around Mae’s shoulder, “Don’t mind Jojo. He’s just kinda like that. He warms up as you get to know him.”

“He’s so .. big,” Mae replied, looking up at the redhead, “Mr. Joestar didn’t say he’d be a giant!”

Kakyoin couldn’t help but laugh, “He’s not a giant! Tall, sure, but he’s no giant! Besides, you’re .. what? 167 centimeters?”

“I’m 5 foot 6.”

“Okay, 167 and a HALF. But don’t let his size intimidate you! Jotaro is just the strong, silent type.”

“Is he mute or something?”

Kakyoin hesitated, “Selectively.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re normal, at least, so far,” Mae said with a small, nervous laugh. “I’m sorry, that’s rude. I didn’t mean to stare before, I’m just ... taking it all in. Mr. Joestar moved my dad out here for business and -”

“Your dad works for Mr. Joestar?”

“Oh, yeah!” Mae smiled, puffing out her chest in pride, “dad’s one of the top sellers for Joestar Real Estate! When Joseph wanted to expand to have some international business, dad was one of his top choices!”

“And Japan was a first location because of Ms. Holly?”

“Bingo!” Mae beamed, snapping her fingers and pointing finger guns.

The two were interrupted by the sounds of high pitched screaming and the sound of heavy footsteps. Jotaro came darting back out of the house, two younger kids hot on his tail.

“TEACH ME YOUR WAYS, MUSCLE MAN!!” screamed the older boy.

“Leave him alone!! That’s no way to treat my body guard!!” shouted the younger girl.

Jotaro fled behind Kakyoin, “< THERE’S MORE. >”

The redhead looked at his friend, then back to the feisty children standing before him, having stopped dead in their tracks to figure out how to remove Jotaro’s human shield.

“You two are insufferable and violating all kinds of space!” Mae scolded, grabbing the younger child and picking her up. The older one took two steps away before his arm was yanked, “You don’t call someone that, you don’t designate them as your personal protection, and you leave them the hell alone in their own house!”

“Yeah, but he’s so-!” the older one was cut off, his arm hold becoming a headlock.

“No! You’re the older brother, you KNOW better!” Mae turned to the boys behind her, “I’m so incredibly sorry about these two, they know no boundaries. I’ll make it up to you with food or something.”

Mae walked back into the house, the sounds of protesting children following her.

“< What the fuck just happened? >” Kakyoin asked.

“< She has siblings, and they’re little goblins. >” Jotaro replied, straightening his hat.

Jotaro’s nightmare did not end so easily. His grandfather had introduced his mother to his star employee and his family of 6.

Mr. Ben Harrison, his wife, Jean, and their 4 children; Mae (18), Greg (9), Lila (7), and the baby, Charlie (1.5).

“< It’s a welcome party!! Isn’t this exciting, Jotaro?! >” Holly squealed, busily moving about the kitchen.

“< No, >” Jotaro sneered, having dragged Kakyoin inside to provide an excuse for escape.

“Don’t be rude!” Joseph snapped.

“< I- I have a guest of my own, I need to do schoolwork! >”

“Since when have you been focused on more than just passing?!”

Jotaro glared at his grandfather, grabbed Kakyoin by the arm and lead him away from the mass of people. Kakyoin gave Joseph a worried smile and a small wave as he was dragged off.

Jotaro went immediately to his own bedroom and slammed the door shut, letting out a groan of aggravation.

“... You wanna talk about it?” Kakyoin asked, placing his school bag down.

“No! Those dumb little fuckers got onto me and wouldn’t let go!”

“They’re kids, Jojo. They don’t mean you any harm, if anything, the little girl wanted you for a body guard! That’s a compliment! ... A weird compliment, but still.”

Jotaro groaned at the suggestion, “They kept touching me, climbing onto my arms and just violating my space, no matter how much I tried to remove them!! They’re worse than their older sister.”

“You just met them. I know those kids were wrong, but Mae literally just introduce herself.”

“She’s a woman. She’s annoying. End of story.”

Kakyoin rolled his eyes and sighed, “if that’s how you’re going to be, fine, but I feel like you should know someone a little before you decide to hate them.”

“I don’t hate her, I just don’t want to deal with her.”

“Whatever you say, Jojo. How’s about we actually do that schoolwork you were talking about?”

Jotaro sighed, there was no way around getting things done with Kakyoin. Not unless he wanted to play video games, and then he’d just be more annoyed by how much of a show off his friend is. He grabbed his bag and began to remove the papers and books from inside.

A knock, then the door crashed open, “What the hell was that?! How dare you leave your mother and I alone to host so many people!!” It was Joseph. Of course it was Joseph.

“Go away, gramps, mom is good at this stuff and you’re the one who taught her. You’ll be fine without me,” Jotaro sneered.

“That’s not the point! Get your ass out here and be social!”

Both boys just looked at the older man, “I don’t know if Jotaro is best suited for that, Mr. Joestar.”

“Papaaaa! Come back here and help!!” Holly demanded from the kitchen.

Joseph sighed, “I know you’re not the most social person ever, but I’m trying to make a good impression on a very reliable employee. He’s moved his entire family from America to Japan and it would be really helpful if-“

The clattering and crashing of pots and pans, then the sounds of a small human crying.

Jotaro huffed and moved to the doorway, moving his grandfather aside, “I ain’t doing this for you, old man. You owe me.”

Joseph smiled and sprang back toward the hubbub, Jotaro sauntering behind, Kakyoin following along to witness the potential disaster unfold.

The trio was greeted to a father holding his toddler in his arms, trying to comfort the little boy while cleaning up the spilled kitchenware. Apologies were repeated, Holly reassuring this strange man that it was okay and it happens with little ones.

The man stood up, rubbing his baby boy’s back, “Shhh, come on Chuckie, it was just loud, you’re okay!”

Mae walked across the scene, removing the tot from her father’s arms, “I got this, dad. A change of scenery and he’ll be right as rain.” The girl took her baby brother to the other room, patting his back and swaying gently to try and calm his screaming.

The stranger sighed and sank, elbows on the counter and hands holding his head. Joseph clapped a hand on the man’s back, “You’ve got a good one on your hands with her, Ben.”

The man’s hands slid back to his neck and he looked up at his boss with a weak smile, “Thank you, sir. That means a lot.” The man’s eyes moved over to the two teenagers looking cluelessly in his direction, “Sorry about that, boys.”

Joseph’s hand moved across his employee’s shoulders, bringing him in for a half hug, “Never mind that! Charlie’s little! Like Holly said, happens all the time.” The older man looked up and gestured to Jotaro, “He’s eventually gonna be a grouchy teenager like my grandson!”

“Ah! YOU are the famous Jotaro! Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Ben Harrison-“ the man walked over and exchanged pleasantries in English, Jotaro just nodding and politely shaking his hand as greeting. Ben’s attention shifted to Kakyoin, “and you, son?”

“Just a fellow guest, sir,” he replied, shaking Mr. Harrison’s hand.

“Nonsense!!” Holly interjected, “Kakyoin is basically family! He and Jotaro have been friends for a while now, and they’re practically inseparable!”

“Practically,” Kakyoin repeated, stepping to the side and wanting to be as far away from the kitchen as humanly possible.

The conversations continued, Jotaro being roped into cutting ingredients for his mother while the grownups discussed whatever it is grownups talk about, the middle siblings keeping each other busy under Mrs. Harrison’s watchful eye. Kakyoin actually managed to slip away and notify his own family that he won’t be home for dinner.

#It’s a Story #chapters 1 & 2 #jjba #fanart #jjba part 3 #jojos bizarre adventure #stardust crusaders #jotaro kujo #noriyaki kakyoin #kakyoin #joseph joestar #OCs #AU - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies #Modern AU #Slow Burn

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bluboothalassophile · 7 years

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Blu can i request a fic based on a post in blanddcheadcanons's blog, where "Raven visits Lucifer Morningstar A LOT, since he’s the only one outside the titans that knows of her past and is not afraid of it, he actually treats Raven as a daughter" or it could be the opposite, that he visits her once in a while and people around might get the wrong impression but then things get all clear? oh and thank you in advance

Hello,

Oh, I love the idea of Lucifer and Raven relationship concept in general! Not in a shipping way, but in a family way. So I hope you enjoy. =)

The Devil’s Granddaughter…

Lucifer was not overly fond of his family, many a reasonsfor that; none to simple either. However, he had found a family member heabsolutely adored, such a darling little demoness whose power was unrivaled inthis multiverse. She was absolutely magnificent.

Ever since he had encountered the little demon he just couldnot resist her charming company. And she was a granddaughter of his; complicatedas that was.

And today was no exception as he walked up steps to theapartment she was currently living in and knocked on the door; as that was whatwas normal for humans. Or so he had been repeatedly taught by many annoyinghumans he was surrounded with. He lightly rapped her door, as he waited a longmoment, hearing her shuffling around back there before the door was opened.

“Ah, my darling granddaughter,” he smiled as he leaned over tokiss her cheek. Raven just blinked at him as he walked in. “Charming littleplace, though you should take me up on my offer and move to LA, I could haveyou set up in a beautiful flat above Lux.”

“And live in that torture tower you call a club?” she yawnedas she dragged her hand through her hair and stretched. “No thanks.”

“Ah, empaths, always so sensitive.”

“What are you doing here Lucifer?” Raven asked as she rubbedher eyes.

“Well, it’s the Summer Solstices,” he said as he picked upher book, another classic. He made a mental note to buy the demoness a few morefirst additions. Raven had the appreciation for such works of art that hissiblings and Maze did not have.

“Mmm, I know,” she said tiredly.

“Well, it’s your birthday, and I know you don’t like it butcome on, you are twenty-four, it is time to live a little,” he smiled catchingher hands before she flopped onto her couch and he hoisted her up to be all buton his toes. “And I’ve never had a granddaughter, and seeing as how I missedout on the first twenty-three birthdays, I do not intend to miss out on more.”

“Still angling the grandfather thing?” she sighed.

“It’s true!” he promised.

“Mmm,” she sighed. “You do know you look like you could bemy older brother rather than my grandfather.”

“Semantics. And as I beat your gentleman friend to thepunch, I will be pampering you all day. So, go get dressed young lady.”

“What gentleman friend?”

“Jason Todd, I believe, the young man you are currentlydating.”

“Jason’s just a friend,” Raven said as she walked past himto her room. Lucifer rolled his eyes at her statement. The demoness might be anempath, but she was clearly oblivious to the obvious. Perhaps it would takesome pressuring from the young man to make the moves so Raven would see it.

“Are you ready?” he called out.

“Yeah,” she appeared in boots, jeans, an oversized hoodie(obviously Jason’s, he could almost smell it on her) and a black t-shirt.Lucifer knew this was about as good as it was likely to get so he offered herhis elbow.

“Are we ready my dear?” he asked.

“You’re really going to play up the grandfather thing?” shesighed taking his arm.

“Of course! You’re the first family, aside from Maze, that I’vefound a liking to in a millenia,” he chuckled.

“Really? The angles aren’t good enough for you?” she askedas they walked out.

“Hardly, the goodie-goodies of my father are everinsufferable, and will not indulge in a single vice. Though I suspect you knowall about vices, Pride,” he chuckled.

“Pride is a deadly thing,” Raven warned him.

“I have never said it wasn’t. But what’s the point of livingif you can’t sin a bit on the way?” he offered.

“Not destroying the cosmos?” Raven supplied.

“That’s hardly any fun now,” he sighed. “It’s been done, it’llbe done again, it gets rather tedious and old.”

“You are never to be bored are you?” Raven chuckled.

“Never, it is dull if there’s nothing in the universe butfamily and Father. And Father is insufferable, no, I’d much prefer the companyof honest sinners than virtuous innocents.”

“That’s hardly surprising.”

“One moment, darling, I must take this call and then it willbe just you and I all day,” he promised as he took out his cellphone.

“Detective,” he greeted cheerfully as he got the door forRaven and they walked onto the street. Raven yawned hugely again.

“Where are you!?” Chloe hissed.

“I am spending an atrocious day in New York City with mydarling granddaughter for her twenty-fourth birthday,” Lucifer answered as heopened the car door for Raven. Raven slid in then and looked exhausted.

“Stop messing with me Lucifer, you don’t have children,” thedetective snapped.

“I never said I didn’t, detective,” Lucifer chuckled.

“And you’re not old enough to have a twenty-four year oldgranddaughter.”

“You wound me detective, I am far older than I look,” hesmiled as he winked mischievously at his granddaughter who snorted at that. Ohyes, he was going to enjoy having a granddaughter. “And for her birthday I willspend the whole day pampering her, and interrogating her about her boyfriend. Sounless it is a world ending event I am unavalible for the day.”

He hung up with that. “So, where ever shall we go first?”

“Somewhere with food,” Raven answered. “And I don’t have aboyfriend.”

“Oh my darling, naïve child, you have so much to learn,” hechuckled.

“Jason’s not my boyfriend,” Raven sighed.

“My dear, he has gone to the threshold of hell for you andyou for him, people don’t do that for just friends.”

“Doesn’t mean we’re dating.”

“Ah, but it doesn’t not mean you’re in love,” he deduced.

“I am not in love.”

“Oh, you are an adorable granddaughter,” he chuckled. “Don’tworry my dear, it will be worth every heartbreak.”

“I’m not in love! And you can’t make me say differently.”

“Ah, angel vs. demon granddaughter, we will test this outlater, for now, we shall enjoy a charming breakfast before indulging in shopping,and a movie, then lunch and a Broadway musical this evening. Beauty and theBeast. Then a night in a wonderful little jazz club I found.”

“Wait? What?”

“Just relax my dear, your grandpa’s got you.” he pulled outas he drove the Big Apple for the first time ever.

#bluboothalassophile #fanfic #one shot #raven #lucifer morningstar #family bonding

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shockcity · 7 years

Text

Bagginshield #14 - in a fairytale

Rating: M

Summary: for the 30 Day OTP Challenge. Detective Inspector Durin has been trying to put Smaug behind bars for years, but something almost...supernatural keeps getting in the way. Bilbo Baggins has been running since he was a kid, but no matter where he goes he can't escape his curse. Maybe they can help each other. Alternate Universe - Modern Setting/Magical Realism

Part II

Also on ao3

second note: ummm I think this was difficult for people to read cuz it's like 18k words and the app dies when you try to bring it up (/ω＼) so im reposting this in two parts sorry for the technical problems~ this is part II!

It was tempting to simply besiege the warehouse right that very moment – to run out and recklessly challenge Smaug with their oh so intimidating team made up of one magical hipster, a sort-of-but-you-had-better-not-ask wizard, and a disgraced detective inspector. But food and rest could not wait, and took priority over even the destruction of a great evil.

Bilbo was more than happy to just sit back and eat, and Thorin couldn't help but goggle as he gorged himself on an entire loaf of bread, three thick chunks of cheese, and a whole sleeve of chocolate digestives.

"Don't stare," Bilbo said, swallowing his mouthful and giving Thorin a bashful look. "Doing magic makes me hungry!"

"Do you do a lot of magic then?" Thorin couldn't help but tease.

Bilbo's jaw dropped. "Are you calling me fat?!"

Thorin bit back a smile. "Plump," he said. "That's what I thought when I first saw you...that you were pleasantly plump."

"Yeah, sure," Bilbo said skeptically. He finished off his cup of tea and leaned back in his chair a bit despondently.

And now Thorin felt bad.

"It's true!" he said, before pausing to find the right words. "I...well, to be honest, I thought you were lovely. And I...was very disappointed that you were a suspect in a murder."

He made a face at his own awkwardness but Bilbo was extremely amused. "And now that I'm not a suspect?"

Thorin raised his eyebrows. "And now that I know that you're just a magic man with a guitar, you mean?"

Bilbo smiled. "Yeah," he said, motioning for Thorin to answer.

"I...." He blew out a breath, realizing that Bilbo was just teasing. "You're a menace."

Bilbo cracked up. "A pleasantly plump one, though!" he cackled. "Hey, I'm flattered. Sincerely flattered. Still, I don't think it's a good idea to start dating each other while people are trying to kill us."

Thorin nodded sardonically.

"But once this is over I think we should probably have lots of sex."

Thorin's eyes widened, which only set Bilbo off again. Thankfully Gandalf decided that they were all in need of quiet time and herded Bilbo into Radagast's room to sleep. The wizard came back a little later and joined Thorin at the table, pouring himself a cup of tea with a sigh.

"You should sleep too, you know," Gandalf told him, watching him intently over the rim of his teacup.

Thorin considered him for a moment. "You knew my father well," he said, after a short silence. "You know about our...ancestry. About this whole world I'm supposed to be apart of."

Gandalf hummed in agreement.

"Why did my father never tell me?"

The wizard shook his head. "That I cannot answer, Thorin. I don't know why he kept it a secret from you. Perhaps he sought to keep you away from the danger that comes with knowing. Perhaps he thought you wouldn't want to know. I can only guess."

Thorin stared at his hands. "Then can you tell me this," he said, looking up and into Gandalf's eyes. "Who really killed my father?"

"Ah." Gandalf rubbed a hand down his face tiredly. "I suspect you met him tonight."

"After you get me what I want, I will kill you slowly."

Thorin raised his gun.

"Like I did your father."

"His name is Azog. He is the leader of a Warg pack, one of the many that work for Smaug on occasion. Now be aware, I am not entirely sure what happened, but Azog's kin fought your grandfather at one point, and many of them were wiped out. Azog swore an oath that he would destroy the line of Durin, and avenge his fallen pack. That is why he hunts you now, and it is likely what killed your father, in the end."

"Azog," Thorin said, repeating his name like a curse.

"Don't let vengeance cloud your judgement," Gandalf warned him. "You will meet your father's killer in battle soon enough."

He took the advice to heart and nodded. Gandalf pulled out a pipe from his robes (the man looked absolutely ridiculous in them, and Thorin wondered what normal people would have to say about it if they could see him) and packed it with tobacco. He puffed until the leaves smoldered, looking tired but peaceful.

A bit like Bilbo, in that he was excellent at pretending to be unfazed. Which reminded him....

"Can I ask you something?" he said, breaking the silence.

Gandalf eyed him amusedly, chewing on the end of his pipe. "You want to know about Bilbo," he surmised.

Thorin dipped his head somewhat sheepishly.

"You would not be the first, nor will you be the last, to be fascinated by Bilbo Baggins." Thorin started, having not known Bilbo's last name. "He is truly a one of a kind creature that never fails to surprise me."

Thorin's mouth quirked. "I don't know him that well," he admitted. "But somehow I understand what you mean."

"Yes, I dare say you do." The old wizard winked at him.

Trying not to blush, Thorin shook his head and turned serious again. "What I want to know is what his connection to Smaug is...why does he want Bilbo?"

Gandalf, whose face had grown more and more resigned as Thorin spoke, let out heavy sigh. "It's rather a long story."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere," he said, accidentally sounding a lot like his bobby alter-ego. "I want to know."

"Alright. I suppose...I suppose it starts with his power."

Thorin leaned forward.

"Bilbo's power is quite singular," said Gandalf. "Words have weight, and with the right words, well – you've seen what he can do; call up storms, ward off enemies, cause terrible destruction – I have also seen his influence on the mind. He can...persuade people to do things. Sometimes without him even realizing it. The point is, Bilbo has an extremely useful gift. Useful...but dangerous if uncontrolled, and Bilbo struggles with restraint."

"What about that other minstrel in England?" Thorin asked. "Bilbo said there was two. How do they control their powers?"

The old wizard sighed again. His favorite thing to do tonight, it seemed. "There is no second minstrel," he revealed. "There's not another minstrel in all the world. I made it up, to convince our kind that Bilbo is not as special as he truly is. I thought the existence of another would lure Smaug into seeking this fictitious person out, but alas, I underestimated Smaug's obsession with the boy."

"What is that obsession? Why does he want Bilbo so much?"

"Partially for his power." Gandalf shrugged. "But also because of his mother."

He frowned. "His mother?"

"Yes," Gandalf paused and relit his pipe, his expression reluctant. "What happened was this: one day, Bilbo's father got very sick, and Belladonna, Bilbo's mother, could not cure him. They had only been married six months...and here was Bungo at death's door. She was heartbroken. Bella worked night and day to find a cure for him, but nothing helped. It wasn't until another apothecary told her of the healing power of dragon scales, that Bella considered approaching Smaug. Unwilling to lose Bungo, she took the risk and begged the dragon for his help. Most likely finding her amusing, Smaug gave her one of his scales and simply told her that all he asked for in repayment was the fulfillment of a request at a later date."

Thorin winced.

"Yes. Terrible mistake. Bella returned home, and of course the scale worked, and Bungo was back on his feet in no time at all. Three months later, Bella realized she was pregnant with Bilbo, and he was born a healthy baby in late September. As the years passed little Bilbo was a delight to his parents and his extended relations; a bright star in an otherwise murky sky, one might say. And then one day, when Bilbo was six years old, Smaug finally called upon Bella for his favor.

"I think that he probably meant to ask her to do something cruel and humiliating for him. Yes, he no doubt had some form of torment in mind. But then, of course, he met Bilbo, and immediately knew that the boy had immense power. So he asked Belladonna for repayment...in the form of her firstborn son.

"As you can imagine, this didn't go over well. So Smaug made her a deal (he likes his games, if you recall). He would give them three chances to find a better form of repayment than the little boy. Once a year, he would visit and ask what they had for him instead. Three chances. Three years.

"The first year they presented him with their wealth. They'd worked endless hours, and saved and scrounged for months, feeding only Bilbo, until they'd collected a good sized fortune. This they offered to Smaug, but the dragon only laughed, and kissed and hugged Bilbo, who did not know any better and showed Smaug open affection (and I must say, I have always wondered if that had ever affected him; there were many times the dragon could have simply killed the boy, and yet...) in any case, he did not accept their offering, and went away until the next year.

"When he returned the second time, Bella and Bungo offered him something far more precious: their blood. Magical blood is extremely potent, and with it other magicals can, for a time, harness the other's gift. It cannot be donated by the very powerful, I'm afraid (and Belladonna was indeed, quite strong) so it was Bungo who stepped forward in exchange for his son's freedom. Smaug claimed that he would first try a taste of the man's blood to see whether or not it suited him. But a taste was not what he had in mind. He killed Bungo; tore him limb from limb as his wife watched, and after it was over, he announced that the blood was not good enough, and warned Belladonna that she had but one more year before she lost her son forever."

"He killed Bilbo's father."

"Yes. Now it was in the third year that everything changed. I never learned what Bella had planned to offer Smaug, for in the end it didn't matter. Smaug had something he wanted this time. A request that would void out his earlier claim on Bilbo. He had heard from some other calamity – some evil whisper somewhere – of words that could bring him unimaginable power. Of words that would give him dominion over the entire world. All Smaug needed was a wordsmith, a minstrel – a creature whom, at the time, was considered only a myth. But Smaug had suspected for a while that Bilbo was of the Words, and so he came to the Bagginses with a plan...and a curse.

"What he had with him was unspeakable. They were Words that should never be said aloud; should never be read, or even written down. Words that only Bilbo could invoke. But what Smaug did not realize was that though the power was within the Words, it also came from the wordsmith. That is to say, unless Smaug himself possessed Bilbo's gift, it could not be transferred. And it could not be stolen."

"So Bilbo has this...unimaginable power?"

"Perhaps," Gandalf muttered noncommittally. "Perhaps not. All that is known is that after it was Said, Smaug went off believing that it had worked. By the time he realized that he had been given nothing, Bella and Bilbo had already fled. From then on they moved about the world, helped by me and other enemies of Smaug. Kept secret. Safe. Smaug took her defiance very personally, and part of the reason he has searched so obsessively for them was because he believed that he had been tricked. They were truly lucky to have lived undetected for so long. Then, when Belladonna fell ill and died, Bilbo wanted more than anything to return to his home. And well, you see how that turned out."

Thorin closed his eyes for a moment. "Then he is in great danger.”

"We all are," Gandalf agreed, and then gave him a pointed look. "But that's where you come in."

In the next room, in a dream that he would not remember come morning, Bilbo stood in front of a roaring bonfire on a white cliff that overlooked an endless black sea.

"Alright, little one, you know what to do."

Bilbo smiled up at the nice man and turned to face the fire. He inhaled, slow and deep, and with considerable power collected on his tongue, he said,

"One ring to rule them all...."

"Do we even have a plan?"

"Of course we do, weren't you paying attention?"

"Yes, but I thought you were joking."

"Quiet."

They fell silent as Gandalf glanced around the warehouse from their hiding place behind a shipping container, his eyes roving over the men that prowled around the yard. Bilbo fidgeted beside Thorin, his guitar on his back, and Thorin almost laughed aloud when he realized that, in this case, his gun was completely outclassed next to a acoustic guitar. Bilbo caught him staring and gave him a 'what?' look.

"There," Gandalf suddenly spoke. He pointed his staff at a large tower crane just as its engines fired up. Lorries beeped as they backed up out of its way, and a man in a hard hat suddenly shouted and made the universal sign for OK. The crane rose, and on the end of it was...a rock?

"What the hell is that?"

But it wasn't Gandalf that answered. Instead, Bilbo got a queer look in his eye, and whispered, "there hammer on the anvil smote, there chisel clove, and graver wrote. There forged was blade, and bound was hilt; the delver mined, the mason built."

"Durin's axe," said Gandalf.

Thorin frowned at the rock attached to the end of the crane, until suddenly, he caught sight of something glinting in the sunlight. He then realized what he was looking at: it was a hilt. The hilt of an axe – which was firmly lodged in stone.

"That belongs to you," Bilbo told him, turning to him with a smile.

Thorin smiled back fondly.

"Now is our only chance," Gandalf interrupted, getting to his feet rather nimbly for an old man. "Thorin, you must get to the axe. No matter what happens, this is your task. You cannot fail."

"What am I supposed to do after that?" Thorin demanded, rattled by Gandalf's intensity.

The wizard stared into his eyes gravely. "You will know," was all he said. "Bilbo, with me."

"What? Wait!"

Bilbo put a reassuring hand on Thorin's shoulder. "It'll be alright," he told him. "We're just going to cause a distraction. It'll be fun."

Thorin wasn't fooled for a moment.

"Be careful," he said worriedly. "I mean it, Bilbo."

"I will," Bilbo promised, and then flashed him a wicked grin. "After all, I'm looking forward to all that sex."

Thorin blushed, and Bilbo laughed into the back of his hand as he moved away and ran off after Gandalf.

He turned his attention back to the axe. The workers were slowly lowering it onto the back of a flatbed lorry, and it didn't look as though they were in any sort of a hurry. As he waited, he checked his magazine before clicking the safety off his gun.

He nearly jumped out of his skin as a cacophonous screeching sound suddenly split the air. Forgetting what he was doing for a moment, he looked about wildly until he spotted the source of the commotion. A stack of shipping containers had toppled over, hitting another stack and causing three more to fall like dominoes. And there...there was Gandalf standing on top of a high platform, his staff glowing white.

Thorin heard a deep and guttural growl, and saw that the workers had abandoned their human skins for fur. Wargs. At least thirty of them. They snarled at Gandalf, half-crouched like sprinters at the starting line, ready to tear the wizard apart.

But then something sweet whistled through the air – something soft like a slow breeze at dusk, whispering:

come and see come and see what's hidden underneath come and see come and see my great big teeth.

Bilbo. Thorin spotted him on another container, perched like Gandalf and glowing – a smile on his face.

Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?

The ground exploded. It cracked and rose like a rocky wave, striking out at the Wargs and knocking them off their feet. Thorin himself was unaffected, and he knew that it was now or never. He tore off toward the stone as fast as his feet could carry him.

Rock and dust flew up around him as the Wargs yelped. Another pulse of Bilbo's guitar ripped through the air, propelling a Warg away from Thorin. He managed to get a few shots off, taking out two men coming for him head on, and then he made it to the lorry and slid behind it for cover.

His breath caught as he looked up and saw the axe in the stone. His birthright.

He knew what to do.

With a grunt, Thorin climbed up the side of the lorry and onto the bed. Around him the fight carried on, but he paid it no mind. He could not tear his eyes away from the axe.

Thorin reached forward. He wrapped his fingers around the hilt. He lifted.

The axe slid out, and the world trembled.

For a time Thorin wasn't aware of where he was, of what he was doing, or even who he was. There was only light; the light of the axe in his hand which shown bright enough to blind him. But it wasn't only coming from the axe, for it also grew out of Thorin's own body – enveloping him in warmth, and in courage, and in strength. It was a feeling reminiscent of being reunited with a long lost love. Of becoming whole.

This light had been in him all along, and all that was needed to summon it was his ancestor's call. A call he could hear now. And this time, he didn't need Bilbo to craft the words for him.

Unwearied then were Durin's folk; Beneath the mountains music woke: The harpers harped, the minstrels sang, And at the gates the trumpets rang. 5

Thorin could see something above him, hovering in and out of his mind's eye, and real, if one chose to look. It was bright and big, and strangely familiar to his heart.

It was a crown of stars.

The image shattered, and in its place was a shining helm, slowly descending toward Thorin. When it came close enough, he instinctively straightened his neck, letting it fall onto his head with gentle finality. It was then that Thorin came back to himself. He looked at the axe in his hand and touched the helm on his head, and felt content for the first time in a long time.

There was a growl - too close - and a Warg pounced on him, throwing them both over the side of the lorry. Viciously it snapped in Thorin's face with its sharp teeth and putrid breath. He struggled to get the thing off of him, using both hands to push the hilt of the axe into the Warg's neck to keep it from biting him. Thorin managed to get a leg underneath him and he shoved as hard as he could.

The Warg fell, but another one came for him from the opposite direction. Thorin breathed hard, glancing down at his weapon. He brought it down to his side, took a deep breath, and sliced upward.

The ground rose with it, summoning hot rock and spitting magma. Black stone bloomed at his feet, cracked with crawling lava. He suddenly registered the screams – the Warg, blinded by Thorin's strike, was now writhing in the dirt. He turned to see the other gain its feet and charge him, and this time Thorin made contact. The axe cracked into the Warg's chest and sent it flying.

Before he could marvel at its strength, he was being attacked again, and this time he noticed that Bilbo and Gandalf were facing the Wargs too, and that their numbers had grown.

It was a veritable army that marched toward them now, all of them glaring with bright eyes full of malice. Thorin fought off the Wargs closest to him and stopped to think for a moment, breathing hard.

His wandering gaze found the tower crane.

It was risky, but there were too many for Thorin to take on by himself, and Bilbo and Gandalf had to be tiring.... He made his decision and sprinted over to its base, quickly judging where he should strike.

Please let this work, he thought, before using both hands to draw back the axe and chop at the base of the crane, almost as if it were a tree.

He'd figured it would take a couple of hits, but this was also one hell of an axe.

The base exploded as if Thorin had launched a rocket at it. There was an ungodly, groaning screech – one of the strangest and most frightening sounds he had ever heard – and then the crane was coming down. The Wargs in its path didn't stand a chance, for there was nowhere to really run. The steel rained from the sky and landed with a tremendous crash.

Thorin watched, wide-eyed, as the dust cleared. He caught a glimpse of Bilbo hopping up and down on his container, cheering, and couldn't help but smile.

They had won.

And then there was pain.

"Thorin!"

From far away he heard Bilbo call to him, but there was something wrong...his arm –

He opened his eyes just in time to dodge Azog's mace. Rolling to his feet with a pained moan, Thorin held his axe and his aching arm close to his chest. The pain was horrible, and he could feel warm blood trailing down his fingers.

Azog did not wait for Thorin to gain his bearings. He charged, swinging his mace toward Thorin's head. He let go of his arm and brought the axe up to parry, dragging the mace to the side. Thorin backed away swiftly as Azog moved to swipe at him again. He heard a frightened yelp coming from where Bilbo was, and he turned to see...he wasn't sure what he was seeing.

Giant...trolls?

The earth trembled as they moved toward Bilbo and Gandalf, the wizard raising his staff high into the air. But then Thorin had no time to watch his companions, because Azog was lumbering toward him with a cruel smile on his face.

"Durin," he growled, and there was amusement in his voice. "Durin the Deathless. King Under the Mountain."

Thorin frowned, keeping his axe up as Azog circled him.

"That right is mine," said Azog, pointing his mace at Thorin's helm. "That is my crown."

"This is the right of Durin's folk," he snapped, angry that Azog was even looking at the weapon of his ancestors. "Not filth like you!"

"Durin's folk," Azog laughed, his scarred face deforming grotesquely. "Dead folk. Unworthy. Not even Thrain's pride could inspire your ancestors to crown a new king."

Thorin went very still. "You killed him – " he said, shaking with fury. "It was you, wasn't it? You bastard – "

"I thought the old fool would pull the axe from the stone, and then I would harness its power." Azog eyed the weapon and helm with envy. "But it seems your father was not good enough for the crown. It seems he wasn't a true king."

Thorin attacked, bringing up his axe and striking at Azog over and over. The Warg managed to block, but something else was happening – heat rose from the ground, blackening everywhere Thorin stepped, and embers rose from the hot blade of his axe, creating a burning gust as powerful as the strongest bellows in the largest forge.

Rage raised the fire higher, and rock and ash burst from the ground and pummeled Azog from every side. Still Thorin pressed him, roaring as the earth shook and flames leapt from the edge of his blade. Azog cried out and smashed to the dirt after a particularly hard strike, and Thorin stood over him panting.

Azog cackled, blood on his teeth.

Father, thought Thorin. He raised the axe....

There lies his crown in water deep, i> till Durin wakes again from sleep.

....and brought it down.

"Whoa, there," he said, catching Gandalf as he swayed from side to side. "Alright, old man?"

"Old!" Gandalf coughed, giving Thorin a one-eyed glare. "Old enough to take care of those!"

He waved his staff in the direction of the giant, ugly....

"What are these exactly?"

"Trolls!" said Gandalf, stretching his back with a pained groan. "Dimwitted creatures with terrible hygiene."

Thorin's mouth twitched. "Well done, then," he said. "Where's Bilbo gone?"

"He's around here somewhere." Gandalf waved a hand vaguely.

"I'll get him." Thorin moved off once he was sure the wizard wouldn't fall over, and walked toward Bilbo's container. He looked up as he came to it, but didn't see him.

"Bilbo?" Thorin called, but there was no answer.

Frowning, Thorin walked around to where he'd last seen the man, standing tall and invincible and laughing in the face of an army. But Bilbo wasn't there.

Thorin squinted, catching sight of a trail of blood. His eyes followed it from the top of the container to the bottom, where it pooled sickeningly. He quickly followed it around to the other side, and then gasped.

On the ground beside where Bilbo once stood – was his guitar.

Thorin plucked at a few strings listlessly, staring off into the distance. He heard Gandalf arguing with someone in the next room, but couldn't be bothered to listen. He kept seeing Bilbo's quirky little smile, and he swore he could hear his sweet, understated voice singing words filled with affection and good humor. It was strange how much Bilbo being gone affected him – Thorin not only felt paralyzed with guilt and worry, but his heart was hurting too.

" – matter of great importance! I would not ask otherwise!"

There was a low murmur as whoever it was they were talking to responded to Gandalf. Then there was silence. Thorin looked toward the door as Gandalf came thundering out of the room. He caught a glimpse of a glowing orb and a timid looking Radagast, before Gandalf's terrible temper demanded his attention.

"They refuse to help! Insufferable creatures!"

"Who?"

"Your subjects, that's who! Our fellows who are too scared of calamities to fight them, and much too stupid to understand that they haven't a choice! Evil such as this can never be left to its own devices!"

Thorin scoffed. "And they won't answer to me? To the king of...whatever?"

"They need proof first," explained Gandalf, his face stormy. "And they will get it, but not now. Now we must rescue Bilbo from Smaug. Do you remember what I told you, Thorin, of Bilbo's story?"

He met Gandalf's eyes, recalling the details now...realizing that things were a lot more dire than he thought. "Bilbo's power...."

"Yes," Gandalf confirmed gravely. "Which is why I must go with or without the help of my peers. Without you, even. I cannot leave Bilbo to this horrid fate, nor allow this world to suffer the spread of so great a darkness. Smaug must be stopped."

Thorin swung the guitar around his back and stood up. He faced the wizard determinedly, jamming the helm onto his head and holding onto his axe with both hands.

"Let's go," he said.

But Gandalf did not move, and instead looked down at Thorin gravely. "It is very dangerous," he warned. "We may very well die."

Thorin shook his head. "I don't care."

The wizard nodded. "Good, nor do I," he agreed, and they set off into the night.

Thorin had never technically been to Smaug's penthouse. He'd certainly staked out the outside of it, but he didn't think that counted. Getting a search warrant from the magistrates had always been like pulling teeth, but in Smaug's case it was nearly impossible. He was a man of means and shamelessly unethical, and approaching the courts with a blank cheque was not above him, nor would it be a surprise. All this meant was that storming the flat, as it were, was made doubly difficult by Thorin's not knowing the place he was walking into.

"What should we do? Is there a way in? Should we climb up the lift shaft?"

Gandalf stared at him dubiously. "Don't be ridiculous, we need only convince the security guards to let us pass. I don't imagine it will be very difficult. Though your appearance leaves much to be desired."

"My appearance?" Thorin said. "You're wearing a dress and a pointy hat."

Gandalf narrowed his eyes at him, but Thorin pressed on. "Can't you do a spell? Make us invisible? Bilbo mentioned that he could do something like that."

"Yes, but that is Bilbo," the wizard told him. "My magic is quite different from his, I'm afraid. Spells like invisibility are too subtle for me to do with any sort of precision, I would only blow you up if I were to attempt it."

Thorin did not want to be blown up.

"Right." He nodded. "I'll hide my axe and take the helm off if you'll at least give up the cap. I'm assuming the staff is staying?"

Gandalf scowled at him – so yes.

Without further delay, Thorin and the wizard made their way to Smaug's building. His flat was at the very top, and Thorin eyed the lifts behind the front desk determinedly. A security guard stood by, watching them.

"Can I help you?" said the concierge.

"Yes, I'm afraid I've locked myself out of my flat," Gandalf lied, and not very well. "I'll just be going – "

"I'm sorry, sir." The concierge frowned. "May I ask your name?"

Gandalf looked from side to side, as if thinking over his options. Thorin covered his eyes with his hand.

"Smaug...?" said Gandalf.

The concierge raised both eyebrows and looked the old man up and down. "Sorry?"

The security guard was stepping forward.

"No, no," the wizard said hastily. "I mean that Smaug is my nephew. Yes. My favorite nephew. Although perhaps not."

"I'll go ahead and phone Mr. Smaug, sir, and see if we can't clear this up," offered the concierge, his expression bemused.

"No!" Gandalf said. "There's no need for that, surely? Can I call you Shirley?"

Thorin groaned aloud this time.

"It's a surprise visit! Yes. For his...birthday."

The concierge hung up the phone. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Oh, but...." The security guard was coming over now, and there went their chances of remaining inconspicuous. The doors to the lobby suddenly crashed open, and Thorin and Gandalf turned to look.

Blocking their exit was a group of truly bizarre looking creatures. They were humpbacked and bald, their pallor a sickly grey and their eyes too big for their face. They snarled, showing off rotted, blackened teeth, and began to prowl closer.

"What are these things?" asked Thorin, slamming his helm on his head and taking the axe out from under his coat.

"Goblins," said Gandalf. "Very fast. Man-eaters. Quite unpleasant."

Thorin raised an eyebrow, and then prepared to defend himself as the daywalkers shot toward them. Thorin swung his axe and two of the creatures went flying. He saw the wizard point his staff, sending three into fits of pain. They screeched and drooled on the floor, but their fellows did not stop to help them. There were so many, coming from out of nowhere – Thorin struck out over and over but saw no end to them.

"Enough!" said Gandalf, clearing a space around himself. "Keep that helm on your head, Thorin Durin, or perish with them."

"What?" Thorin shouted, but Gandalf was already raising his staff.

He brought it down and a blinding light filled the room. Thorin slammed his eyes closed, listening as the snarls abruptly stopped and a car horn went off before there was a loud crash. Then everything went silent.

Oddly, it was difficult to reopen his eyes, but he managed with a great deal of willpower. He immediately saw that Gandalf was surrounded by collapsed goblins. Then he looked at the security guard and concierge, who were similarly knocked out.

"Have you killed them?" Thorin yelped.

"Of course not!" Gandalf denied defensively. "They are merely asleep."

Thorin saw now that people on the street had passed out as well, a few at the wheel but miraculously crashing without hurting themselves or others. Thorin gaped at Gandalf accusingly.

"How many people did you do this to?" he demanded. "And why wasn't I affected?"

Gandalf turned toward the lifts impatiently. "Your helm, of course. There is little that can penetrate it. I am unsure just how many people were put to sleep, but I wouldn't worry so. It's a relatively harmless spell, I assure you."

That didn't reassure Thorin at all, but there wasn't time for getting angry at Gandalf. "I doubt the spell managed to reach the upstairs," the wizard said. "We'd best hurry."

They quickly sprinted for the lifts and crammed in, awkwardly adjusting axe and staff so as to not hit each other. Then they pressed the button for the top floor. They had just made it past the sixth when they stopped and the doors popped open. Thorin quickly pressed for them to close again but nothing happened.

"Bugger," he said when a horde of Wargs appeared in the hallway.

"I suppose we'll take the stairs," said Gandalf, a bit sadly. He quickly left the lift, his staff held high, and bowled over the Wargs at the front of the pack. Thorin followed with his axe, striking down the second wave.

The last two were bigger than the others, and Thorin faced them warily as they stepped up and over the downed members of their pack. Then they transformed, and Thorin saw a true Warg for the first time.

They were massive, rather more the size of a bear than a wolf, and their jaws looked so powerful that Thorin was sure they could cut him in half with one bite. Their fur was a thick brown and a bit mangy, and their eyes were yellow-red.

As they prowled closer, Thorin raised his axe and wished he knew more about using it in combat, and just more about combat in general. So far he'd been holding his own, but these were also really big wolves.

He had no time for fear, however, because the Warg was coming for him, and he was suddenly using his axe to keep those teeth away from his throat.

The Warg snapped and spat, and then clawed down Thorin's side. He yelled out in pain, cursing as he used his upper body strength to shove the thing off of him. He felt something strain in his already injured arm when he did it, and seeing as the Warg had to be over three hundred pounds, it was no wonder his arm felt useless when he managed to get back on his feet. The Warg came for him again and he cried out in agony as he raised his axe and brought it down on its head.

There was no strength behind it, Thorin's arm was shot and his speed was dismal, but the moment it touched the Warg's head the axe seemed to sense its master's desperation and gathered its own power. It slammed into the Warg and drove its head straight into the ground, breaking apart the carpeted floor and leaving a Warg shaped hole. Its bum and legs stuck up a bit, and Thorin couldn't help but laugh a little.

He turned and helped Gandalf finish off the last one (nearly getting singed by one of the wizard's spells for his efforts) and by the time the pack had been defeated they were in pretty rough shape. Thorin panted, checking his bleeding side and moaning every time he moved his arm.

"Come, I can help with the pain," said Gandalf, motioning to him.

Thorin gazed at him skeptically, but handed over his arm for inspection anyway. It hurt too much not to. "You said you couldn't do subtle magics."

Gandalf sent him a disgruntled look. "You may be a bit giddy afterward, possibly even for a day or so, but you shan't be in so much pain. Now which is it? Yes or no?"

"Yes."

The wizard's spell did indeed make Thorin feel giddy, and also extremely refreshed. With a new energy he took his arm from Gandalf and hefted up his axe.

"Your arm is still injured, Thorin, so mind how you use it," Gandalf warned him, watching as Thorin tried the lift again. They made for the stairs when it refused to work.

They climbed as quickly as they could, the axe heavy and the miraculously unharmed guitar bumping against his back. He counted the seventh, eighth, and ninth floors before losing track. The penthouse was on the fifteenth, and to Thorin that seemed thousands of miles away.

It was on the thirteenth floor that something strange started to happen; there was an odd scraping and tapping noise, as if thousands of needles were falling onto metal. The unseen thing hissed like something slithering, and Thorin slowed in order to listen closer.

Then something came down the staircase. It was black and spindly, and made of what looked like tendrils of writhing vines that slowly inched toward Thorin and the wizard.

"Don't let them touch you!" cried Gandalf. "They are probably poisoned."

Thorin swallowed around a groan of frustration and began to hack away at the vines, but like a hydra, the more he cut the more they seemed to multiply.

"How exactly am I supposed to kill this thing?!" Thorin asked as the thorns continued to advance.

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking," Gandalf said unhelpfully.

Thorin continued to hack and slash, getting nowhere. "Can't you use light or something? Like from the movie?"

Gandalf's head shot up. "What movie?"

"Harry Potter!" Thorin yelled.

His expression grew thunderous. "That isn't real magic!" he snapped. "And I am not that Dumbledorf person!"

"Oh for god’s sake!" Thorin shouted in frustration.

He purposely recalled the sensation he had felt the first time he had used the axe – the moment when he'd called up the hot rock and flame – but this time he wished for searing light to accompany it.

The axe came down and flame spread out in a fan, electricity running ahead of it like foam on a wave. It crashed into the thorns and incinerated them, sending a strange sulfuric stink into the air.

Thorin coughed and looked around at Gandalf. "See?" he couldn't help but needle. "Are you a wizard or not?"

Gandalf scowled. "Yes, well, fire tends to work most of the time," the old man grumbled.

They ascended once more, climbing up to the fifteenth floor at long last, but wary of what they would meet there. The door to the stairwell swung open easy enough, and Thorin saw a long hallway before him. At the very end was a door made of textured glass.

Thorin and Gandalf walked toward it cautiously, the eerie silence of the hall a large difference to the chaotic noise of before. Thorin's ears were even ringing.

When he reached the end, he hesitated.

Despite his fear for Bilbo and the adrenaline coursing through him, he had to stop and take a deep breath before touching the handle. When he finally did it clicked open easily.

"This is absolutely a trap," Thorin hissed, looking around.

The room was painted a deep gold, with red neon lights lining the high ceiling. A large tube-like structure made of the same textured glass as the door sat in the middle of the otherwise empty room.

Thorin moved forward cautiously, peering around it. That's when he saw the opening, and that's when he saw Bilbo.

Thorin immediately ran to his side, calling his name. Bilbo was laid out on a gold colored bed, looking just the same as when Thorin had last seen him. His ugly yellow cardigan and maroon knit cap were slightly askew, but otherwise...he was completely unhurt.

And yet Bilbo would not wake.

"Bilbo? Bilbo?" Thorin shook him a little. "Bilbo, wake up."

"An enchanted sleep will not hold his power for long," Gandalf suddenly said. Thorin turned around quickly, spying the wizard looking at someone standing in the doorway.

"No, but it will keep him quiet," responded Smaug, and of course it was him.

Thorin stepped away from Bilbo, removing the guitar from his back and gently placing it on the floor beside the bed. He left the glass circle, creeping out until he caught sight of Smaug.

The dragon faced them calmly, his sharp gaze finding Thorin before flicking back to the wizard. He wore a fitted black suit, and his long, chiseled face, was as hard as stone. As usual, his full lips were turned up in a cruel smirk.

"You cannot take the power of the ring for yourself. It is lost to you now," Gandalf said, leaning on his staff.

"Then I'm sure I can...persuade him to work for me," Smaug replied, shrugging. "He's always been such a gullible little thing. So eager to please...."

Thorin's face grew hot with fury. "You'll have to kill us first," Thorin snarled. "He's a wizard, and I'm a king. How good do you think your chances are?"

Smaug raised his eyebrows in amusement.

"A king, are you?" he said silkily. "So quick to take up that honorable mantle, Detective Inspector! Could it be you enjoy the power that axe gives you? It feels good doesn't it? To destroy. To command. To be more than just human. What makes you so different from me?"

Thorin glared. "The biggest difference is that I don't do monologues," he replied, and raised the axe. To his satisfaction, he saw Smaug's eyes widen as the weapon came down, striking the floor with a boom.

The dragon was thrown off of his feet and into the door, which shattered on contact. Gandalf shot a bright, pulsing light from the end of his staff, and it slammed into Smaug, who screamed in pain. As Thorin advanced, he felt the hilt of the axe heat and looked down as sparks came off of its straight edge. It must have been hot enough to burn, but Thorin's hands remained unharmed.

Gandalf's spell ceased, the old man seeming to tire a bit, and Thorin stepped forward and slashed his axe across his body with one hand. The ground rumbled and turned to hot black stone, from which bright orange magma bubbled and hissed to the surface. He marveled for a moment at the magic it took to summon a veritable volcano in a penthouse flat, before he was distracted by the liquified floor. It had turned to lava, and Smaug was sinking into it with an ungodly screech.

And then those pained eyes focused on Thorin, and his porcelain skin began to change. Black vines, reminiscent of the thorny creature that had attacked them on the stairwell, crawled out of Smaug's eyes, which had turned the color of fire.

Then Gandalf stepped back. "Oh, dear," he said.

Thorin looked at him quizzically, not liking the sound of that, but he understood why the wizard was wary when the strange vines around Smaug's body began to pulse.

"You will burn," the dragon hissed, and then exploded into darkness.

Writhing clouds of pure black smoke flew up into the air, congealing to form a hulking, massive shape. The roof groaned and broke open, and Thorin tripped over his feet to get away from the falling debris.

Smaug the dragon, the actual dragon, came out of the smoke head first; his snake-like neck curving back as if he were stretching after a long time trapped somewhere small.

"Our little game ends here," Smaug rumbled, his voice was like thunder. "Now you die."

Thorin dove out of the way just in time as Smaug let loose a ball of fire. He moved quickly out of the dragon's reach, stumbling into the far wall, and too late realized that he was close to the sleeping Bilbo and probably putting him in terrible danger.

And yet Smaug did not attack. He eyed Bilbo as well, his head swaying from side to side in agitation, and Thorin understood that the dragon would not risk hurting the minstrel with his fire.

That did not stop his teeth, however, and then Thorin was moving again – this time away from the dragon's snapping jaws.

As he dodged and ducked, he heard Gandalf call out from above, and Thorin looked up and saw that the wizard had escaped up to the roof. He seemed to be chanting and slowly gathering light at the tip of his staff. Smaug narrowed his eyes at the wizard and slithered through the hole in the ceiling, completely distracted by the foreboding shine of the spell.

Thorin followed, nearly tripping over bits of plaster, and managed to pull himself up to the next floor with the help of some stacked debris. On the next level he immediately saw a stairwell to the roof, and he sprinted toward it and up to the outside. And just in time too – for Gandalf's spell had only made the dragon angrier.

The night was brisk and windy, and Thorin could see twinkling stars behind Smaug's red-scaled bulk. Gandalf glowed a bright white, and in solidarity the axe in Thorin's hand pulsed with heat. He watched as Smaug reared back, the scales on his chest beginning to ignite, and did something he had never done before. He held the axe securely by its hilt, reached back, and let it fly.

It was aimed straight for Smaug's chest, but the dragon had seen him prepare to throw it, and brought up his wing just in time. Miraculously, the axe did not bounce off of the armor-like scales, and instead sunk deep into his hide.

Smaug roared in pain and fury, clawing at the axe until it fell to the ground. Thorin watched it with despairing eyes, swallowing as the dragon angrily crouched and made ready to pounce.

Thorin had no choice but to run, but where to run to? He took off for the other side of the roof, listening as Gandalf shouted in some other language and the wind suddenly grew stronger. He had to find his weapon –

The floor cracked beneath his feet and collapsed, and Thorin's stomach dropped as he fell, his hands reaching out desperately for something to grab. He landed bum first on the next floor, which crumbled apart but thankfully slowed his fall, and before he knew it he was crashing back into Smaug's penthouse.

He groaned, feeling blood roll down his leg and side, and reached up to wipe the dust out of his nose. The ground shook as he crawled blindly toward the wall, frightened of falling again.

He heard the dragon roar and knew he should get up – he knew that the wizard needed his help – but his axe was gone and though his helm protected his head it didn't do much else. He took a second to catch his breath, riding out the pain from his injuries. He turned his head tiredly, looking around at the destruction, when his eyes caught sight of the large glass circle.

"Bilbo," he murmured, starting to panic. How had he forgotten about Bilbo? The room was trashed, the roof was falling down, and the dragon was crashing around and setting fire to everything and poor Bilbo was, was –

Completely fine.

"You lucky sod," he laughed, quickly moving to Bilbo's side. It must have been some magic spell that kept him from harm, for everything within the glass circle was relatively unscathed, though a bit dusty. Thorin put his hand over Bilbo's, feeling tired and sore. He needed to finish this, for Bilbo's sake.

And apparently Smaug agreed; the dragon crashed through what was left of the ceiling and braced his forelegs on the floor, the rest of his large body coiled on the roof.

"Thief!" rumbled Smaug. "You will take nothing from me! I laid low the warriors of old, and now you shall meet the same fate, o' Son of Durin!"

The dragon opened his jaws, showing off his terrible teeth, and Thorin looked around desperately for something, anything to use as a weapon.

His eyes found Bilbo's guitar.

He dove out of the way of Smaug's reach, wincing when he heard his huge jaw snap closed, and crawled quickly toward the instrument. Thorin picked the surprisingly heavy guitar up just in time, swinging it around to hold in front of him as Smaug thankfully bit into it instead of Thorin.

The guitar splintered and then broke apart, the wooden top separating from the whole, and Thorin felt bad for a second until he realized that there was nothing else to use to defend himself but the remains of the guitar. It wouldn't do much, but he grabbed the wooden top anyway and held onto it by the hole, using it to cover most of his arm and face as Smaug attacked, and this time with his skull.

And surprisingly, the top didn't break. Instead, the force of Smaug's head butt pushed Thorin back, his feet sliding along the ground until his heel caught on a chunk of concrete. He went down hard but forced himself to keep moving, to keep rolling away and to run, run, run to who knew where....

The axe.

He spotted it underneath a large piece of the fallen ceiling, and he ran full tilt for it. Smaug slithered after him, but Thorin was faster now, for there was at last an end in sight. He crashed into the wreckage and reached beneath it, feeling the hilt and wrapping his hand around it. Smaug took a breath.

The world was fire, but Thorin wasn't burning. He had thrust the guitar top and axe in front of him without thinking, and the flames crashed into the shield and axe and fanned out around him. Thorin knew then that this was his only chance; that his body simply could not take much more of this. So he closed his eyes and listened to the call.

The King beneath the mountains. 6

....began a voice not unlike Bilbo's. The dragon's deadly fire ran out, and Thorin brought his axe close to his lips. He said the next verse, this time.

The King of carven stone.

Smaug was preparing another strike, but Thorin knew what to do. Thorin was ready. He reached back with his axe in hand, feet staggered and spread apart.

The lord of silver fountains.

His whole body twisted forward, and with stunning accuracy, he threw the axe straight for Smaug's heart.

It met its mark.

...shall come into his own!

Smaug roared and writhed in pain, the axe lodged deep within his breast. From where the blade had punctured him, cracks soon appeared – Smaug's chest glowing as the axe worked its destructive magic. Then the great lizard bellowed one last time, and his body cracked like broken glass – and finally shattered.

Golden sparks burst from where the dragon once stood, and Thorin covered his eyes as they went every which way. When all was done and the room had fallen silent, he looked up cautiously...and saw that the dragon was gone. That Smaug had at last been defeated.

Out of breath and hurting worse than he ever had in his life, Thorin stood there in disbelief. A smile slowly spread across his face, and he couldn't help but laugh when he realized that the danger had passed, and that against all odds...he had survived.

Then he remembered Bilbo.

His breath caught and he spun around, seeing Bilbo there still fast asleep. Thorin stumbled over and leaned heavily against the bed, wondering if Bilbo should have woken by now. He heard grumbling and the sound of falling concrete as Gandalf jumped down from the floor above and back into the room.

"Why isn't he awake?" Thorin said, turning to glare at Gandalf.

Gandalf brushed off his robes and glared back. "How would I know? The enchantment should have ended. Perhaps if you give it a moment? So impatient!"

But Thorin was remembering something. It was a wild theory and unlikely to do much of anything, but all he could think of was leaning down and kissing Bilbo lightly on the lips. And so he did it.

It lasted only a few seconds, but it was the sweetest few seconds Thorin had ever known.

And then Bilbo's eyes fluttered open.

"Hmm?" he inquired, blinking the tiredness out of his eyes.

Thorin flinched backward, putting up empty hands in surrender should Bilbo be cross. But the man only yawned and peered at Thorin happily, looking for all the world like he had just woken from a rather pleasant siesta.

Then his smile vanished, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Hold on," he said, pushing himself up into a sitting position. "Was that a kiss? Were you just kissing me right now?"

"No!" Thorin answered automatically, and then he winced again. "Yes. Sorry."

Bilbo stared at him for a moment before grinning slowly. "That's alright," he said cheerfully. "I'm just sorry I missed it. But where on earth am I? Was I asleep? Holy shit, what a mess! Ooh, wait – "

Bilbo leaned into Thorin's space excitedly. "Was that true love's first kiss?"

Gandalf, who had been shuffling around in the wreckage, threw them both an irritated look. "Of course not," he said crossly, kicking a piece of broken plasterboard away. "This isn't a fairytale!"

Bilbo made a face. "Spoilsport."

"Another gas leak! The world is just falling apart," said Bilbo, slapping down the front page of the newspaper. A picture of the ruins of Smaug's penthouse was on the cover, and Thorin couldn't help but shake his head. Had he truly been that oblivious once? How many gas leaks had really been gas leaks, anyway?

The morning after the battle with Smaug was horrid for both Gandalf and Thorin. Gandalf was still asleep, snoring away in Radagast's room, while Thorin had been up at the crack of dawn as always, unable to ignore his internal clock. His whole body protested any and all movement, but he'd made it to the loo and the kitchen well enough, and then couldn't find the energy to slouch back to bed after that.

Bilbo had taken the initiative and had made him some porridge and tea, and then happily hovered around him like a mother hen.

"At least no one was killed," Bilbo said thoughtfully, popping a piece of toast in his mouth. "You two got the worst of it. How's your arm by the way? Should I change your bandages?"

"In a bit," Thorin told him, smiling softly. "I'm glad you're alright, you know."

Bilbo nudged him with his shoulder playfully. "Me too! And thank you for saving me," he said. "I can't believe you defeated a dragon all by yourself! It's very cinematic!"

"Stupid more like," Thorin scoffed, taking a sip of his tea. "We nearly died multiple times. But it was worth it, in the end, to see you safe."

Bilbo looked at him for a moment, his expression terribly fond. Then he leaned over and kissed Thorin on the cheek.

"Finish your breakfast," he said, and got up to refill the kettle.

Thorin took a few more slow bites, his gritty eyes fixing on the axe and helm leaning casually against the wall. And next to it was the remains of Bilbo's guitar....

"Bilbo," he began, feeling positively wretched. "I'm so sorry about your guitar."

But Bilbo only smiled. "Oh that's alright!" He waved it off. "I can make another. I didn't much like using oak for it anyway. Too heavy...."

He cast a curious glance at the splintered pieces. "Made a great shield though," he added cheekily.

Thorin snorted. "That it did."

After he finished eating he let Bilbo pile gauze and sterile pads on the table, watching as the man bustled around the kitchen. He carried over a round bowl full of hot kettle water, and Thorin obligingly removed his shirt. Bilbo hissed in sympathy when he slowly removed the soiled bandages.

"Tell me if I hurt you," he said, and began to clean the wound.

Thorin's arm would need to be re-wrapped, as well as his leg, and he felt a bit guilty about enjoying Bilbo's ministrations, despite the pain it brought. He liked having Bilbo close, and he especially liked the coddling. Who knew Thorin was so fond of being fussed over? He couldn't help but gaze at the man affectionately as he worked.

"So, I don't mean to be that person," Bilbo began, his attention on Thorin's wound. "But someone has to say it: what now?"

Thorin frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that Smaug is gone, and half the hunstman in England are dead. All that's left are people like us. And we still don't have a leader."

Thorin looked away.

"Once word gets around that Smaug isn't in charge anymore, someone or something is going to rush to fill that void. I'm not saying it should be you – "

"But shouldn't it be me?" he interrupted, meeting Bilbo's eyes. "Aren't I...king now?"

"Well, I didn't vote for you."

Thorin raised an eyebrow. "Really?" he said in amused disbelief.

Bilbo shrugged, a shit-eating grin on his face. "Couldn't help myself. But yeah. I guess you are king. King of...I don't know, a load of people with bizarre talents, probably. But hey, you know what? I think you'll make a splendid king for us. Best we've ever had."

"You haven't had any."

"Exactly!"

He shook his head at Bilbo, but he was smiling. "What about my life, Bilbo? I don't...want to leave it behind. I like my job. I worked hard to get where I am. But most of all I just still want to help people."

Bilbo bit his cheek and looked away thoughtfully. "Well, there's no reason you can't be a king and a cop."

"You're not serious," Thorin laughed, though he didn't find it funny.

"Why not? At least for now you can keep that part of your old life." Bilbo secured the gauze around his chest and sat back with a sigh. "We've got lots of work to do before you're even considered a real king anyway."

Thorin nodded at the table. "That's right, whose to say the magicals will ever acknowledge the crown? Might be a lost cause."

"Not at all!" Bilbo wrapped a gentle arm around his shoulders, hugging him. "People talk, you know, and they'll be talking about this battle for a long time. 'King Thorin' they'll say, 'wielder of axe and broken guitar! A most excellent detective and surprise kisser!'"

Thorin groaned. "I'm never going to live that down."

"Aww, but it was true love!" said Bilbo, giggling. "You woke me from an enchanted sleep and now we're obligated to give it a go! In fact, we can just skip the courting and get right to the se – "

He cut Bilbo off with a kiss. Thorin had to live up to the legend, after all.

"Got one for you, detective," said the desk sergeant, poking his head into Thorin's office.

"Yeah, I'm coming."

Thorin pushed aside his paperwork and slipped on his blazer, walking idly toward the interrogation room. "What's this?" he asked Bofur.

"Lady come in asking for you," Bofur shrugged. "Said she wanted to speak to you alone."

Thorin sighed and nodded, taking the case file Bofur handed to him. He opened the door and slipped inside.

"Heard you wanted to talk to me," said Thorin, cutting to the chase. "What seems to be the problem?"

The red headed woman sitting at the table had an earnest look about her, and her green eyes were bright as she solemnly said, "I'd like to report a crime."

Thorin frowned. "Alright...?"

"It's to do with...one of ours."

His stomach swooped nervously, and he titled his head at her in confusion. "One...one of ours?" he repeated.

"Yes," said the woman. Then she eyed him speculatively. "You...you are King Thorin Oakenshield, aren't you?"

Thorin inhaled, mouth moving but nothing coming out.

"The detective?" she pressed.

He let out a long breath. King Thorin Oakenshield, he thought with an laugh. That was Bilbo all over. And...she had called him a king and a detective. She knew of him. Bilbo was right...word was spreading.

And now it sounded like she needed his help.

He turned his attention back on the woman, who had been waiting very patiently.

"Yes..." Thorin said, smiling a little. "I suppose I am."

Notes:

(1) The Old Walking Song (original)

 (2) derivative of “or so sworn, good or evil, an oath may not be broken, and it shall pursue oathkeeper and oathbreaker to the world’s end.”

 (3) “Down the swift dark stream…” from The Hobbit

 (4) literally what the legend says

 (5) “Song of Durin” from The Fellowship of the Ring

 (6) “The King Beneath the Mountain” from The Hobbit

#30 day otp challenge #bagginshield #hobbit fic #part II #ugh tumblr app why

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disappearingground · 5 years

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PRODIGAL DAUGHTER Jenny Lewis

Blurt Magazine February 20, 2009

Last year the Rilo Kiley vocalist took a vacation from her band, visited her hometown, and wound up with a solo album.

By A.D. Amorosi

Going back and forth between the past and the present, the inane and the barely passably sensible is pleasing to Jenny Lewis.

That’s her life and that’s her wife, what with having spent the better part of growing up absurdly in one brand of show-bizzy limelight or another; a child of vaudevillians and entertainer-types, a kid actress, a country-tinged pop band chanteuse, a mistress of wordy Saddle Creek-y solo album (Rabbit Fur Coat) éclat.

“And now is my time,” says Jenny Lewis crisply. “My time.”

Not just because she’s away again from that old California gang of hers – the now decade-old Rilo Kiley that she birthed with guitarist/one-time paramour Blake Sennett. Or that she’s simply releasing her second solo effort in two years.

Jenny Lewis has produced Acid Tongue – a damn-near live album that’s got no Pro-Tools, is all analog, is far less wordy than her previous recordings, and whose vocals were tracked as they were happening. Lewis produced it with some old close friends and brought in a few pals to play and sing.

But it’s her.

You can’t help thinking that having her return to her childhood home (the one between Las Vegas and L.A.) of Van Nuys to record Acid Tongue wasn’t just the work of healing old wounds (“Badman’s World”) wounding old heels (“The Next Messiah”) and reconstructing the Oedipal Complex for 2008 (“Jack Killed Mom”), but rather some sassy shout-out of independence and huzzah-huzzah-hoorah-ness.

Besides, there’s got to be some particular self-satisfaction at work; of divinity, silliness and narcissism that would allow her to place her face on the cover of this new album done up as dozens of acid blotter tabs.

“Well, you may as well have a laugh,” says Lewis, about her lysergic cover art. “And if you were to drop a tab, you might very well see as many mes standing before you.”

That doesn’t sound so bad.

From the reaction to 2006’s Rabbit Fur Coat – produced by her bud Conor Oberst’s Bright Eyes stalwart Mike Mogis – a couple-hundred Jennys would be great. She did three tours around that solo effort alone. But it’s always seemed as if Jenny-philes have wanted more of her. No sooner than people liked Rilo’s quirky irked brand of indie-country-pop, Lewis’s soulful squint of a voice and panicky character-driven lyrics (2001s Take Offs and Landings on Barsuk), they wanted the band to go major label and her to go solo. The moment she released something small and the band hit the majors (with 2007s Under the Blacklight for Warners), people wanted more solo stuff from Jenny.

Everybody seems to be waiting for something from her.

“I don’t know why they’re waiting. I’m incredibly stubborn and I probably won’t give them what they want,” she says plainly. She is her own driving force and won’t be cadged into doing more solo projects. She does records with whatever speed and volume because she is not yet satisfied. “I never am and never have been. I want more. I never assume that I’ve done all that I can do. That just happens to be one of my character traits.”

Jenny Lewis dictates the pace. Things have been as such since she decided to become a writer and singer.

Stop.

This is not the question where you ask her about the childhood acting thing. This is the question about the through line that exists between those careers; the one beyond “Show biz.” She goes on to tell me a family history.

Grandmother was a head balancer and dancer with Moscow circus. Grandfather was a small time criminal and singer with vaudevillian Burt Lahr who fell into depression and out of music when Lahr left the act to pursue the role of “Cowardly Lion” in The Wizard of Oz. Both of her parents were musicians who had a lounge act in Las Vegas and were on The Ed Sullivan Show.

“My birth was just a continuation of family business,” she giggles. “But it was also about the continued avoidance – for me – of avoiding the straight life, a regular job. That’s what show biz presents itself as always, a viable option from doing normal 9-to-5 stuff.”

So maybe it’s all one big gesture. But I’m not here interviewing a Jenny Lewis of Facts of Life fame or a Jenny Lewis star of the touring version of The Lion King or a Jenny Lewis known for hosting a reality show and singing for Disney.

Without sounding too lofty, this brand of Lewis found a deeper aesthetic direction, an art form amongst the entertaining bits.

“That’s the only difference I think… I am a writer,” she says. That’s what led her upon meeting Blake Sennett to write their first song together, “Eggs.” “It was before Rilo Kiley. At least before we were called Rilo Kiley. It was on the first day we met.” Sennett had a guitar riff. She had a four track. He laid it down and she wrote stuff over it.

But this is not a Rilo Kiley story.

“Yes,” Lewis says quietly, when I ask if she feels like she and Rilo have grown up together. “In some ways; but I don’t know that we’ll truly grow up.”

Yes. Most of her Rilo Kiley lyrics are less personal than those on her first solo album. But on the new Acid Tongue there’s a darker, deeper mix of the personal and the character-narrative. “There’s so much more Rilo stuff so there’s been more to experiment with and more time for it. But I was comfortable enough here to do both character-driven songs and personal ones.” Does that mean she’ll find a zone in Rilo in which to do both? Or is she better off keeping the personal tunes like “Tryin’ My Best” to herself and for herself?

“To know that there’s someone else you’re singing about can weigh just as heavily as a song you’re singing about yourself,” says Lewis. “Sometimes the personal songs are easier. Sometimes the personal songs bore me.”

She’s tired of hearing of hearing herself complain about stuff. “That is until I write another song about me complaining about stuff.”

Maybe she’s getting better at being solo than Rilo Kiley-ing. She doesn’t know yet. Lewis can say that this Acid Tongue experience – recorded in the same studio where Neil Young did After the Gold Rush and Nirvana did Nevermind – was the most comfortable she’s ever felt in the studio; so comfortable that she was able to sing the songs in their entirety. “The whole record is live, live singing, live playing. I haven’t been able to do that in the past. This may sound a little hippie dippy-ish but I just never felt free enough to do that. I was always self-conscious in the studio.”

Her three weeks spent recording Acid Tongue were planned, but ever so loosely. If they could pull it off the live haste and pace – great.

The title song’s first line – written who-knows-how-many-years-ago when she was living in her Silverlake apartment where she wrote 90 percent of all of her songs – was the start of the record:

I went to a cobbler to fix a hole in my shoe/he took one look at my face/and said “I can fix that hole in you”/“I beg your pardon I’m not looking for a cure/I’ve seen enough of my friends in the depths of the God-sick blues”/you know I’m a liar.

The line didn’t dictate what would happen next. Nor does it sound like anything else on the album. “But there was just something about that first line coming to me; the idea of someone having an answer for you, a solution to something, the sadness of that,” she trails off. “It was a feeling I wanted to go with.”

So Lewis and her co-producer pals Farmer Dave Scher, Jason Lader and songwriter/beau Johnathan Rice, along with musicians/singers Chris Robinson (the Black Crowes), Zooey Deschanel, M. Ward, Benji Hughes and Davey Faragher, all got Acid-ic. So did family members like her vibraphone playing uncle, her singing sisters and – amazingly- Elvis Costello.

“Once we got to the studio it was good and flowed very quickly,” claims Lewis. “We could pull it off. We could play it live. Which is so weird, to have to make a point of that, because that’s what music should be. But I’m a child of the digital revolution.”

I stopped to finish a thought I‘d had earlier: that if she’s having such a good time with people other than Rilo Kiley, is she worried that she might be better at being solo than a Kiley-ite. She’s not. She just wants to make the best music possible with whatever bunch of people she makes it with. She didn’t start playing music to be burdened by her relationships and be miserable. She wants to enjoy myself.

“Now’s the time.” Not just because the moment out there is good. But, not to sound hippie-dippy-ish… “The moment within me is good. I’m just starting to understand what I do.”

And that understanding is? “I’m just learning how to trust myself musically. I’m learning that you don’t have to say as much to make a point.”

True, that. Yes, the inspiration of Laura Nyro’s Gonna Take a Miracle – the spare soul momentum, delirious melody, awestruck joy and the lean accompaniment of the trio of singers that was Labelle – was the backbone for Rabbit Fur Coat. So, too, was a loquaciousness and a series of multi-syllabic phrases that filled every crevice of every song.

Acid Tongue – lyrically – is more economical than that.

“That was a conscious decision. Going back and listening to my older songs I think I was trying to prove something – overstating the obvious.” So she went back over Acid Tongue things and scaled back the syllables. That happened, too, because this album was as much about the total package as it was the worried words and dark passages. The expansive, sometimes-psychedelic harshness is a far cry from Nyro’s stewing Tin-Pan soul and Lewis’ mom’s favorite songwriter.

“Plus the location was more important” says Lewis, discussing Van Nuys’ California’s Sound City Studios. “We were all inspired by the records that’ve been made there. Plus, returning to where I grew up was timely. I needed to address things about my personal life, my past.”

Lewis isn’t so completely revealing as to what she was addressing. You don’t necessarily need her to do so, save for the fact that she expressed pain at having to drive past her childhood home every day as she rode to the studio and then realized that she couldn’t run from things bottled up.

“You cannot run from feelings. You will be unwell. They will affect all that you do. It will ruin your health. In order to do that, I had to make this record there.”

Ask her to focus on the track that best reflects that search for addressing those feelings, for picking at your emotions: she chooses “Badman’s World.”

There’s a certain line that listeners should seek out during that haunted song. Lewis doesn’t know if it’s a necessarily poignant phrase. But it was important enough to stop the recording of another track – “Sing a Song” – as she came up with a twist on “Badman’s World.” Lewis started playing “Badman” on piano only to have the rest of the band join in and the control room ops continue taping.

The line is about scorpions. Originally it was about her and another person being two scorpions in one bottle. Now, it’s about one of those scorpions getting shot by Lewis. Which one gets shot is a mystery worthy of J.R. and Dallas.

“You have to take responsibility,” says Lewis, when asked what the point of the “Badman’s World” is.

Yet the whole album seems to be about her taking responsibility.

She won’t take full credit for the economy of its lyrics not matching the ferocity of its sound. Lewis credits her co-producers and mentions Johnathan Rice. “The four of us together formed one great person.”

That she’s brought up Rice twice and that she’s made music in close proximity with another one-time paramour, Rilo’s Sennett, the questions arise about it being hard or desirable to work with someone you’re having a loving relationship with.

“It is what I do and what I’ve done. It’s just very natural. I’m always thinking about music. Every time, every day, writing words, listening back, criticizing myself. It’s nice to have someone who is up for sharing in that at all times of day at all hours.”

It is a risk, she knows, because you’re chancing personal happiness and the longevity of the relationship. But she knows she has to do it. “You got to do it. And as a woman playing music, it’s nice to have someone by your side… because I am a coward,” she giggles. “Seriously. I’m lucky to have had talented dudes around me.”

Speaking of talented dudes, Elvis Costello worms his way into the conversation in the same fashion he wormed his way onto Acid Tongue. Apparently she first spoke to the British lion when having Christmas with a friend’s father – Costello drummer Pete Thomas. Costello phoned to wish Pete merry-merry, got Lewis on the phone, got her to appear in his “Monkey to Man” video (“I did an awkward walk-by clutching a purse”), then wound up dueting on “Carpetbaggers” when Rice was up for the low singing parts.

“I emailed him. He responded. And in exchange we recorded some of his songs. The vibe was so good there that as soon as we finished mixing, Costello went into make his own record there.”

Like Costello grabbing a lick, all the heavy heady sad moments that fill Lewis’ Acid Tongue are ripe with lightness of being, of funny moments and gentle sessions. The funniest seems the sweetest – the mad-mad-Jim Morrison moment of “Jack Killed Mom.” While the whole song seems to seethe with its death knell promise (“I had to kill off the mother character that was so prominent on Rabbit Fur Coat,” says Lewis), it is her harmonica-blowing dad, jazz-bo Eddie Gordon, on the track.

“I was so tired of talking about my mother from that last record that having my dad play on it was just hilarious. Having him and my family and my friends in the studio felt like an honest record.”

Now let’s back to those acid tabs.

#publication: blurt magazine #album: acid tongue #year: 2009 #mention: cover art #mention: family history #mention: rilo kiley formation #person: blake sennett #mention: songwriting #mention: recording process #song: acid tongue #song: bad man's world #person: johnathan rice #person: elvis costello #song: jack killed mom

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ajp3mbgk-blog · 5 years

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