#sorry? and/or enjoy the angsty dwarf i guess

[tathrin]

A response to this ask; taken from this prompt; anyone can feel free to send other numbers in at any time, I don’t care how long it’s been. (Just maybe add some context to your ask if it’s been like a month or more since I posted this, because otherwise I won’t know what to do with the random number in my inbox).

#28....as a lie.

*technically this one picks up after the end of this story if you want to read that first, although you don’t need to; it’s as much a self-contained snippet as any of the others, it just happens take place in a setting within the events of a specific fic, that’s all.

Gimli’s eyes were drawn ever and again to the elvish dancers, even as he was drawn several times into brief conversations as friends and acquaintances paused at the table he now shared with Gandalf to exchange a few words and toast their well-wishes together for Gondor’s king and queen. Gimli was glad of the toasts, at least, for they brought fresh mugs of cool ale, and the heat of so many cavorting bodies had raised the temperature of the hall to near-dwarven levels, despite the cool white stone and tall windows through which a summer’s breeze still wafted.

Legolas’s hair shone like a sunrise in the rich torchlight, and his eyes gleamed like starlight on pale clouds. Gimli was amazed that anyone could long look elsewhere, with the shine of him whirling there to draw the eye.

He was not amazed that the other elves twirling on the dance floor were drawn to him; of course they were. How could they help but be lured in, dull drab moths circling that golden glow? Long hands ran up and down Legolas’s lithe limbs and pressed against his slender waist, long fingers twined through the streaming locks of his unfettered hair and curled possessively around his braids—

The mug in Gimli’s hands gave a crack and shattered, soft metal collapsing in on itself in his grip. He stared at the mess in his hands, numbly grateful that he had at least drained it already and so there was no ale left to spill out across his lap, and then he hurriedly shoved it onto the table behind him. He could feel his cheeks burning hotter than any torch in the hall.

Gimli chanced a sideways glance at Gandalf, who was watching the dancers with every evidence of placid enjoyment on his old face. Had he seen? Had he heard? He said nothing, but that did not always mean anything with Gandalf. Perhaps Gimli should speak, should craft some excuse...

“Flimsy human metal,” he muttered, and glanced at the wizard again. Gandalf nodded absently, but did not otherwise react.

Gimli let out his breath in relief—and then a second later he nearly choked on it, as Legolas suddenly bounded out of the tumult to perch on the bench beside him. His eyes danced as merrily as any of the revelers and his smile beamed bright and clear upon his beardless face.

“Will you not dance with us, Gimli?” he asked. His voice was light with laughter and with joy and his thin chest heaved from his exertions. Gimli found his eyes drawn upwards to the bare lips above that smooth and hairless chin.

“What?” he said.

“Dance with us, Gimli!” Legolas repeated. “Come, you can teach us dwarven steps and I will show you the ways of elvish revelry up close.”

“No,” Gimli answered automatically, his heart stuttering in his throat. “No, I—I am quite comfortable here, thank you.”

“You do not seem comfortable,” Legolas observed, and Gimli felt his stomach drop like a stone. He could not stop himself from glancing behind him at the ruined mug, even though he knew the gesture was a dead give-away; if Legolas had not seen it before, he surely would now, with Gimli’s gaze to lead him to it like a map—or a swift arrow.

“I am perfectly fine,” Gimli insisted. “Gandalf and I are enjoying the dancing quite well from here, thank you.”

Legolas spared a glance at the unmoving wizard but his eyes soon fixed on Gimli once more. “You are bothered by something,” he said quietly. “I can tell. Will you not tell me what? Perhaps I can help.”

Gimli’s mind stuttered with the possibilities of the help that Legolas might offer, and he quickly shied away from the idea. “No!” he blurted. “No, I—as I said, I am fine. It is merely warm in here.”

Legolas laughed. “Warm!” he cried. “But you are a dwarf!”

“Aye, a dwarf,” said Gimli, “and one who is enjoying his ale from his comfortable seat, and has no need to go whirling about like some flighty elven dandelion!”

Legolas should have laughed; Gimli knew his friend well enough to know that much. He should have laughed, but he did not. Instead his pale eyes narrowed sharp and keen on Gimli’s face, and Gimli could feel himself blushing beneath that tight scrutiny.

“Does it bother you,” Legolas asked in a low voice, “to see me frolicking so with these other elves?”

“What?” Gimli exclaimed. His hands clenched convulsively, and he was glad that he had already broken his mug; had he still been holding it now, he would surely have turned the thing into a flattened disk of over-stressed and useless metal. “Bother me! Of course it does not!”

To prove it, Gimli made himself laugh and shake his head, as though Legolas had spoken some ridiculous jest. He even lifted the elf’s lean brown hand and kissed the smooth knuckles as more evidence of how thoroughly unbothered he was. “Go back to your dancing, Master Elf!” Gimli chortled. “I am doing quite well watching it from afar, thank you!”

Legolas stared at him for another moment, his smooth face unreadable . The tips of his ears were flushed dark red from all of his cavorting and his pale eyed looked very wide with no beard to frame them.

Then he shrugged, and said, “As you like, then!” and squeezed Gimli’s shoulder once before bounding away and throwing himself back into the whirl of the merry elvish dancers.

Gimli let out a shaky breath and flexed his hands a few times, getting the blood-flow back into them.

"Lying will do no good for either of you," Gandalf declared calmly. "And it is hardly fair to Legolas; he will take you at your word, whatever you tell him."

Gimli could feel his cheeks burning hotter, shame coming along to add its kindling to the blaze. He managed to force an unintelligible grumble of disagreement from his lips, but nothing more articulate than that; he felt as though he was already strangling on all the words he would not, could not, say.

"He will," Gandalf insisted. "The elvenking might be able to spot a lie from 300 leagues and skewer it as neatly as his son ever has an enemy with that bow of his, but Thranduil's people are another matter. Lies are not generally told in Mirkwood. It is not a place for dissembling, or oaths, or scheming. The Wood-elves are a simple, honest people. And you are Legolas's friend." Gandalf pulled his eyes away from the dancing and fixed his gaze on Gimli instead. His bushy brows were drawn very low atop them, making his eyes glint like embers in deep shadow. "If you tell him something, he will believe you, Gimli. And you will have none but yourself to blame for the results."

Without waiting for Gimli to muster either the courage or the wits for a response, Gandalf swept to his feet and strode off into the tumult of the party.

Gimli slumped low on his bench and stared miserably at the dancing elves.

Legolas was still so impossibly vibrant and noticeable against the duller backdrop of the others. Gimli's eyes fixed on him at once. He seemed to be moving now with even greater abandon than before, if such a thing were possible.

And if such a thing were not impossible, Gimli would almost have said that Legolas kept glancing back at the table where Gimli sat as well—but he was not, of course, and so Gimli put the thought from his mind.

He had more than enough to think of anyway, when a tall elf of Lórien slid up behind Legolas and snaked her arms across his narrow shoulders, leaning in low to murmur something into his finely-pointed ear.

Legolas laughed and turned to face her, their long lithe arms entwining as close as any dwarven lovers. They swayed and swirled together with the music, and the elf-woman’s hands slid up from Legolas’s shoulders to tangle in his braids. Legolas smiled up at her and said something that Gimli was too far away to hear, but it made her laugh. Then Legolas gave one of her dark braids a gentle tug, and Gimli realized that he was growling low in his throat as though facing down a horde of goblins.

He turned away blindly and reached for his mug, realized that it was both empty and broken, and turned back around just in time to see the elf-woman twirl away into someone else’s arms as another pair of hands took Legolas by his trim waist and plucked him out of the center of the tumult to pull him in close against their long lean body, and—

And it was Haldir, Mahal curse it. Gimli’s mouth went dry, his blood pounding in his ears like drumbeats as the March Warden leaned in close and lowered his mouth to Legolas’s ear, whispering something. He took one of Legolas’s braids in his hand and rubbed his thumb across the heavy golden strands, like a dwarf might test a metal for its quality. Haldir was hardly dancing; only swaying a little as he stared down at Legolas, who stood balanced before him on his toes like a bird paused on the edge of flight.

Gimli was on his feet before he realized it, about to start forward and—and what?

His hand was at his belt, which was empty of course; a wedding was no place for weapons. And why was he reaching for his axe, anyway? He sat back down on the bench with a heavy, hollow thump. What was he thinking? What was he doing?

He had had too much ale, clearly. It was the only explanation for his strange behavior tonight. His throat was dry, but he would not drink anymore tonight; he had drunk too much already, clearly, and it was clouding his thoughts. Making him think strange, impossible things. Making him dream things that—that were not, that could never...!

Legolas laughed and rose up onto his toes to press a light kiss to Haldir’s lips.

His head reeling, Gimli watched as the March Warden took Legolas by the hand and led him, smiling, towards the door. If Gimli thought that Legolas paused on the threshold and looked back, somehow finding Gimli’s eyes across the crowded room and glancing at him hesitatingly, questioningly, even hopefully—well, then that was just another sign that he had reached the night’s limit for ale; reached, and more than passed.

Gimli held himself very still, schooling his expression to a placid calmness that might have rivaled Gandalf’s, and then he forced a smile and a nod—just in case Legolas was really looking; just in case he could really see him.

A shadow seemed to flicker across those bright elvish eyes, as though one of the torches near the door was on the verge of guttering; although when Gimli looked at them, they both appeared to be burning tall and strong still.

When he looked back, there was only a faint fading flicker of golden locks flowing around the corner as Legolas vanished into the night and Haldir’s arms.

Gimli sat there for several minutes, staring into the empty darkness of the door. The noise of the wedding revels that had once filled the hall with such bright merriment seemed to have faded now, somehow; he heard it from a distance, like echoes from some far-off cave. Eventually he forced himself to rise, and murmur unintelligible farewells as he passed his friends, and trudge his way across the long white hall towards the other door.

He stumbled back to the rooms the Fellowship shared, alone.

[rattyoakenbitch]

The Hobbit: Anything For You || Thorin x Reader

Pairings: Thorin x Dunedain Reader

Warnings: Angst, death, sadness, mentions of blood, gore??? mentions of smut, hallucinations, a bit of fluff.

Note: I don’t normally write angsty or sad oneshots unless it has a good ending, but this is pretty sad, (I guess, or I tried to make it sad. I just feel like I’m a pretty shitty writer and all my stories are cliche, anyway!) I’m in a terrible mood and felt the need to in a way “vent” it through writing this. Enjoy! (or not)

Thorin still remembered the smell of death and smoke in the air, and the sight of the blood soaked, torn up bodies of Elves, Dwarves, Men, and Orcs splayed out everywhere. The last regretful words Thorin spoke to Y/N ran through his mind as he searched Ravenhill, desperately trying to find any sign of her. But it was too late. When the battle was over and won, Y/N’s body turned up.  “Balin? Balin, where is my wife?” “Thorin, please--” “Where is she?!” “Thorin, she is gone! She is dead!” “You’re lying to me,” Thorin croaked out shakily, as his voice started to break.  “You’re lying..” he repeated, falling onto his knees. Crying, he looked up at Balin. “How?” “She succumbed to her injuries hours before we found her body at the bottom of Ravenhill.” The thought of Y/N dying alone broke Thorin. She was his wife. His queen. She was supposed to live a long life with Thorin, ruling by his side. Y/N was supposed to die with him, not alone at the bottom of a hill, believing she’d never see him again. Knowing she’d never feel his touch again, or the warmth of his embraces. He didn’t want her to only remember the harsh Thorin who bitterly drove her away from the gate. Who said himself he could never love or treasure her as much as he could with his gold. As Y/N exhaled her last breath, all she could see & hear was the faint memory of Thorin’s stern face and cruel words. Y/N’s funeral was held shortly after. The Company looked at her pale body laid out on the stone. Tears raced down Bilbo’s face as he peeked up at Y/N. He had never experienced such a death. He only ever knew the comfort of The Shire. How did it lead to this? Kili & Fili were devastated, as was the rest of The Company. They had lost their life long friend. Thorin could barely even look at Y/N. If he did, he knew he’d completely break down and lose all control. He wanted to scream and go on a rampage. He had gained back his kingdom, won the battle, and for what? He just experienced the greatest loss of his life. 

“It was all my fault. I wasn’t beside her. I could have saved her.” *** It’s been almost ten years since the battle. Erebor & Dale was rebuilt as if there was never a dragon or a war. The Company moved on with their lives, and more Dwarves came back to live in their homeland. Bilbo returned to Bag End, while Gandalf went about his wizardly business. Thorin would like to say life was normal. He wanted to say he was happily ruling over the kingdom he always wished to take back. But day by day, the king felt weaker. Every day felt more painful. It was not worth all the riches in the world if he was alone. Many dwarrowdams threw themselves at Thorin, but he brushed them off. Nobody understood him as well as Y/N ever did. Nobody could satisfy his needs or care for him like Y/N did.  Each night he’d have dreams of Y/N, always waking up with tears filling his baby blues. Sometimes he even saw her reflection behind him in the mirror, or feel her cold touch when he laid in bed. He’d hear her soothing voice singing him to sleep, but he’d always wake up alone.

“Why didn’t you come for me?” Thorin’s eyes fluttered open at the sudden sound. “Why did you leave me all alone?”

Slowly, he turned to look for the source of the voice. At the foot of his bed, he found Y/N standing in her wedding gown, watching him sadly. Her hair was disheveled, eyes bloodshot, and skin pale. But to Thorin, she was still as beautiful as the day he met her.  Many years before the dragon attacked Erebor, Thorin started to court Y/N, despite her not being a Dwarf. She wasn’t even royalty; just a simple girl from Dale. He could still remember the feeling of her gentle hands intwined in his calloused ones, and the sweet scent of her soft hair that cascaded down her back. The lively and mischievous glint in her eyes always made his heart flutter, as well as the laughs that escaped her lips.  “Those innocent giggles do not sway me, Y/N!” Thorin scolded. She kept giggling playfully at his grumpiness, and rolled off him. He got up and dusted himself, then looked back at Y/N. “How’d you even get in?”

“I have my ways,” she smirked. She had ambushed him in the small, royal back garden where he was walking. At first, he thought she was an assassinator when she tackled him to the ground, resulting in a wrestling session.

“You can’t just do that! You’ll get us in trouble,” he whispered, but she ignored his rebukes and mocked him, opening and closing her hand to match his mouth movements. 

“Well I did, so deal with it, your Highness.” He continued to walk off away from Y/N, but being the stubborn young girl she was, she chased after him. “You’re always so grumpy! You need to lighten up, you know.” 

“I hate you,” he grumbled. 

“Do you now?” They both reached a dead end and halted. Thorin turned back to look at Y/N’s pouting face, 

“Can you not wait until our wedding day?”

“No, I want you now!”

He raised an eyebrow suggestively, and blushing, said, “Right here, right now?” Shyly, she nodded, causing him to let out a deep sigh. “We’re going to get caught!” “I don’t care!”

“Fine, but if we’re banished from seeing each other, it’s not my fault.”

“Hey--” Thorin silenced Y/N’s whines by claiming her lips roughly. She stumbled back and fell onto the grass, pulling Thorin down with her, only breaking the kiss to get some air. With a hint of naughtiness in her voice, she said, “See, I knew you wanted it just as much as I did.” Thorin rolled his eyes, but couldn’t keep himself from smiling.

“Only because you would not stop bugging me.”

“Oh, don’t lie to yourself, my love.”

They both laid together for the first time in the back gardens, almost getting caught like the young fools they were.

Thorin snapped out of his day dreams. Surprisingly, Y/N hadn’t left her spot at the end of the bed. She waited for a response, still watching Thorin longingly. He wanted to say something. He wanted to say that he tried, and that he was sorry. But the words got caught in his throat. He couldn’t excuse himself.

“You didn’t deserve it.. I should have been in your place..” he whispered lowly. “You never should have joined The Company. Never should have shared my perils..”

“But I loved you. I would have done anything for you.” Y/N’s chilling voice sent tingles down Thorin’s spine. Was this real? Was it just a figment of his imagination? Why wasn’t her soul not resting in the Hall of Mandos? Why did she continue to torment him?

“Wouldn’t you have done anything for me?”

[c-c-cherry]

Restless Nights

Basically just a vent fic. Happy Holidays you rascals. 

**A BEFORE-FIC MESSAGE**- This is part of a lil AU that I’m working on where the fellowship end up all coming back to Gondor once they finish their travels and settle what they need to settle. Set after the defeat of Sauron but before the Grey Havens. 

DESCRIPTION: Legolas is angsty and needs some comfort. Angst, H/C, fluff 

Word count: 2372

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“G-ah!”

A startled gasp followed by a momentary loss of breath jerked the elf awake in breathlessness. He clutched the sides of his sheets ferociously. His breath came out in short bursts as he watched as Gimli slept soundly beside him, snoring every couple of breaths. An onslaught of frustrated tears blurred his vision as he felt his body, drenched with sweat.

He could barely remember what the dream --nightmare-- was about. Only falling, disappointment, and the oncoming feeling of dread that gave him a sour taste in his mouth when he finally woke up.

“Legolas?”

A soft, groggy voice from somewhere in the darkness around him caused a startled sob to escape his throat, his breath shuddering as he looked around to find the voice somewhere in the jet black room, sheeted with darkness. It sounded like one of the hobbits... Frodo?

“Are you alright?” the faint glow of the moonlight through the window showed the culprit to be, unsurprisingly, Frodo, his large eyes glistening with worry.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, managing to say without his voice breaking. He wobbled up, barely trusting his legs, stepping past all of his friends sleeping soundly beside him in various spots on the wooden floor.

Ignoring Frodo’s question and walking past him quickly, Legolas softly opened the door to the nice wooden cottage and swiftly shut it behind him and staggering across the balcony to the edge of the roof. Using his left foot first, he quickly climbed up on the roof and sat on the flattest surface of the roof, basking in the moonlight and the stars glittering above him.

Elvish instincts never go away- no matter how long you’ve been away from--

A shred of guilt sliced through him like a sword. A near 2 years had passed since the destruction of the ring, and he had yet to return to Mirkwood to address his father--and his people--about the decisions he’d made. He sighed. Although he already knew exactly what Thranduil would say, he couldn’t help but feel a slight lingering feeling to tell his kin what had become of him.

He could already feel his heartbreak at the thought of having to choose between his people and his new life. Maybe he didn’t have to if he just didn’t return to Mirkwood. Even if he did, what would he even say?

“It’s been a long time, Ada. Sorry I disappeared for years without a word! Also, I’m living in upper Minas Tirith among mortal men and I’m also engaged to a dwarf! How have you been?”

He could already see the looks of horrors on his fellow elves’ faces. He could just hear the endless questions about why there was such a large, binding braid in his hair and what it represented.

Maybe that’s what his dream was about. He couldn’t remember anything about it anyway, which may or may not be a good thing.

Normally he would be fine with just Gimli by his side at night. It had been fine for the past year and a half...But lately, his nightmares became worse and worse as the shock of the war slowly left him these past few years. He didn’t even want to think about what Gimli would think if he woke him up because of some silly dream. It wasn’t fair to him. He deserved to sleep soundly.

Thank the Valar that Gimli was an extremely heavy sleeper.

Feeling tears of frustration build up in his eyes, he closed them softly and let the crisp, night breeze hit his face. He was surrounded by people that loved him, but he just felt alone. Just him and his worries. He and his problems. Him and his--

“There you are.”

The gentle voice nearly made the elf jump, but (barely) kept his composure to look behind him. Legolas frowned, peering around the roof. How in middle-earth did he…?

“Frodo...how did you get up here?” Legolas asked, surprised. Frodo shrugged, the carefree hobbit smiling softly.

“Never underestimate what a hobbit is capable of. Sam and I did survive Mordor, after all.”

Legolas sighed, shaking his head and resuming his position on the roof, knees tucked into his chest. Maybe a sleepover wasn’t the best place for someone with a terrible time sleeping, but it was hard not to since everyone had agreed to be in the same place for once.

They had planned these little “hangouts” once they had all agreed to spend a little more time in Gondor, and Legolas didn’t want to be the one person that flaked out. If he flaked, Gimli would most certainly flake too, no matter how much he loved spending time with everyone.

Frodo and Sam had packed up their stuff from their cute little Gondorian cottage in the rural area of Minas Tirith. “The ring-bearers deserve only the best” the people of Gondor had said once it was decided that Frodo and Sam were to stay in Gondor before making the long journey to the Shire.

Merry and Pippin would stumble in with all of Middle-earth’s booze (which Gimli very much enjoyed), Aragorn would travel down from the castle and leave Faramir in charge whilst he took a small break once in a while, while they all crammed into a nice, secluded, wooden house in the Upper-town and had a nice night once in a while.

Gandalf was… where in Middle-earth was Gandalf? No one knew. He had left on some “trip” after Aragorn and Arwen were wed and Aragorn was crowned king, and hadn’t returned to Gondor since then. People say he’d turned up on the outskirts of Rohan, but the wizard was quite a mystery.

He didn’t seem like a sleepover kind of guy, anyway.

Legolas was initially worried about the others; while Gimli was a heavy sleeper, he was worried about waking the others up. Thankfully, it seemed like everyone else was prone to sleep pretty soundly at night, and he had yet to wake anyone up. Legolas would think that everyone would be sleeping in safety and comfort after the hardships they had been through…but Frodo was never the same after that ring.

Curse those easily-awakened, ever-vigilant eyes.

“So you haven’t told him yet, I’m guessing?” the hobbit asked nonchalantly. Legolas felt his whole body freeze up.

“What?”

“Gimli. You haven’t told him about the nightmares, yet. Or anyone else. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be outside alone, would you?”

Legolas swallowed instinctively. How in Middle-earth did Frodo know about it? Oh well, that was a question for another late night, he supposed.

“No, I haven’t.”

Frodo narrowed his large, glimmering eyes and inched a bit closer to him. The roof creaked a bit under the weight, and Legolas wondered for a moment if it would wake anyone else up, but reconsidered, as they all seemed to be snoring quite peacefully.

“Why?” the waning question split his heart in two, and he suddenly felt guilt gnaw away at him. He had been keeping things from the people he trusted most, wasn’t he? Did that make him a liar?

“It didn’t seem that important,” he mumbled half-heartedly, knowing what a stupid reply it was. Frodo unsurprisingly was not convinced.

“All right, then. Keep your secrets.” Frodo replied, and Legolas swore he recognized that saying. Feeling the guilty feeling worsen, he sighed loudly and stared intently at his feet.

“I was...I was scared...alright?”

Frodo raised an eyebrow, not following. Legolas felt the heat rise to his cheeks as the silence between them became deafening.

“Scared of what?”

Months of insecurities finally boiled over, and Legolas found himself spewing word vomit in place of proper sentences.

“That-that maybe Gimli wouldn’t love me anymore! That maybe he doesn’t deserve to be with someone who’s as messed up as me! Maybe I’m terrified that I’ll have to return to Mirkwood once everyone gets tired of me! Maybe I’m afraid of the fact that Gimli might just leave me, and maybe I’m scared--scared of everyone finding out just how horrible I am!” the elf replied, snapping at the hobbit. Legolas barely noticed he was breathing rather heavily.

“Sat-satisfied, hobbit?” he spoke in a shuddering breath.

Frodo was silent for a moment before wrapping his arms around his shaking friend. Legolas didn’t even notice how hard he was shaking until Frodo grounded him with a hug, letting him bury his face into his chest and try to regain his composure again. Tears threatened to fall, but he ceased them to. He had to keep some of his composure.

“Funny, knowing how long you’ve known Aragorn, I would guess that he would be the first one you would tell about all this stuff,” Frodo said in curiosity. Legolas pulled away from him for a moment in response.

He sighed, letting the breeze blow through his hair. “Aragorn seems...different. He’s more occupied with the kingdom, Arwen, the children he’s no doubt going to have very soon...he has more responsibilities now than to just put up with me.”

“Now whoever said that?”

A familiar voice had them both jump to attention as Aragorn stood on the balcony below them, looking out at the scenery of his kingdom.

“Evening Frodo, Legolas. What a beautiful night it is.” he turned and smiled up at the couple sitting on the roof, “Another nightmare?”

Legolas practically fell off the roof. How the hell did Aragorn know? He glared at Frodo, who meekly shrugged. Aragorn walked towards the ivy wall where they got up to the roof and smiled.

“Frodo hasn’t told me anything if you want to know. He’s not the only one with good observational skills.” Aragorn chuckled, climbing up the wall in a couple of swift movements, “You’re practically an open book, Mellon nin.”

Legolas felt himself blush, wondering just how much Aragorn had heard.

“How long have you been out here?” he stuttered, his heart beating a mile a minute.

“Long enough to hear just about everything.” the king replied, crawling across the roof and sitting on the other side of the elf. Legolas felt dread fill him. Of course, he had heard everything.

“Mellon nin, this does not concern me, and I’ve been holding off on talking with you just in case things would resolve themselves. But clearly, they haven’t. Something is not boding well with you.”

Legolas stayed silent.

“I would never forget about you, mellon.” His soft, understanding voice of his old friend caused him to lose his breath. It was ironic, he remembered being Estel’s comforting hand when he was a young child, still new to the world. Now he was a king. A king.

Why did that phrase sound so familiar?

Then it hit him.

A king. He was supposed to take over Thranduil’s position as king of Mirkwood. He wasn’t a dubbed a prince for nothing. But it had been so long since he had returned to Mirkwood...was the arrangement still into play? Would Mirkwood still accept him as a king? Was he even ready? And the wedding, the engagement, would that even be possible anymore? Could he even marry a non-elf if he was to be king?

He knew the answer to everything, but he couldn’t bear to think about it any longer. A breath caught in his throat. 

Aragorn noticed the elf’s distress and called for Frodo to give the two of them a few minutes. The hobbit nodded understandingly.

“Of course.”

The elf and king sat on the edge of the roof as Frodo crept back inside the sleeping cottage, leaving the two of them alone. Silence followed deafeningly. Legolas felt his heart pound rapidly, awaiting what his friend was going to say.

“You need to talk to Gimli.” he finally said. It was too gentle.

“I know.” he choked back, barely trusting his voice.

“And I need you to talk to me.”

“I-I know...”

A desperate whimper escaped him as Aragorn enveloped him into a hug, and Legolas felt warmth fill him. Such a coldness had filled him since the absence of fighting in his life, and he hadn’t felt so safe in so long.

“I know that things are hard right now, Legolas. Believe me, I do.” Aragorn said softly, grasping his friend and letting him bury his face into his cloak, “We can help. I can help. You just have to talk to us.”

“I don’t want to go back..” was all the elf could whimper, his shaking arms crossed over his chest, his frame shaking like a hunted, wounded animal.

“You don’t have to go anywhere. You can stay right here, Legolas. I promise you.” the king said reassuringly, but his cries only got louder. He had a feeling that he might have been talking about Mirkwood. Only his homeland provoked so much emotion out of him. Not necessarily good emotion.

Eventually, the elf calmed down and cleared his throat, sitting up and out of Aragorn’s arms with a pained look on his face.

“I’m sorry.” he sniffled, flicking away the last of his tears.

“I cannot accept your apology, for you have nothing to apologize for, mellon nin.”

Legolas laughed dryly and smiled teary-eyed at his hands.

“Mr. Strider?”

Both looked down at the balcony to see Frodo had stepped outside holding a mug of something warm. Aragorn inquired the hobbit, who smiled warmly.

“I hope I’m not intruding on anything, but I seemed to have woken someone up on the way in,” Frodo said sheepishly. Aragorn nodded understandingly and hopped down from the roof.

“It’s about time we get off this roof then, isn’t it?” he gestured to Legolas, who grabbed his hand weakly and climbed down onto the balcony. The elf felt exhaustion take over his body, and he turned to the door to the cottage, freezing in his tracks.

“Gimli.”

The dwarf stared concerned at his fiance, and Legolas saw nothing but love in his eyes. Legolas felt the tracks that were still wet on his face, and he suddenly felt very self-conscious.

Legolas was about to open his mouth, but Gimli just shook his head and pulled him into a warm hug. The thoughts that plagued him vanished just for that moment.

And Legolas felt nothing but love.

[astarryon]

Simpler Times

Characters: The Hargreeves Siblings

Warnings: Mention of potential substance abuse, the ‘f’ slur is used in passing (not as a direct insult)

Summary: On one of the last nights where the kids get to be anything close to normal, Klaus suggests they have some fun. His idea? Heading over to the 24/7 doughnut shop and getting absolutely trashed on sugar.

A/N: this is nothing but me working through grief as I wait a whole year for the next season of Umbrella Academy to drop. These kids deserve love and happiness and if the writers aren’t gonna give it to them I’ll do it myself!! (That’s only kind of true, this is somewhat angsty lol). Anyways, enjoy, let me know what you think, and stick around! This definitely isn’t going to be the last Umbrella Academy piece I write!

Based on Five’s line about how he and his siblings used to sneak out to eat doughnuts until they puked

—

October 20th, 2002

Klaus tiptoed across the floor, unable to keep from holding his breath out of anticipation. He was much too tired to tell whether it was anxiety or excitement causing his heart rate to spike — maybe a bit of both? — but he didn’t have the time to stop and wonder about it. He was already short on time, and with everyone else already waiting for them downstairs, he needed to work quickly lest they be left behind.

Slowly, so slowly that he could hear the click of the knob unlatching, Klaus twisted the door handle and carefully pulled it open. There she was — he just had to make it to the far side of the room without startling her. If he could do that, he could invite her, and they’d all be home free for the next couple of hours.

“Vanya,” Klaus whispered, shaking his sister gently once he was close enough to touch her. He climbed up on her bed, kneeling at her side and leaning over her face. Vanya looked so calm when she slept; he had to envy her for it. With as much as their father had been throwing Klaus into the mausoleum in an effort to get him to comfortably commune with the dead, he hadn’t been sleeping very well lately. He wondered what it was Vanya dreamed about, and wished he could experience it for himself. All his dreams were of pale faces with their mouths stretched into never ending screams.

Klaus hated to wake her, but he was almost positive she would be glad for it. “Vanya,” he whispered again, a touch louder this time. “Wake up, okay? It’s important.”

Vanya exhaled hard, lips parting as she made her way back from the land of sleep. Her lashes fluttered a few moments, tickling Klaus’ face, and when she eventually opened her eyes, she looked confused. “Klaus?” she murmured, rubbing a hand over her face and pushing her bangs out of her eyes. “What time ‘s’it?”

“Like one in the morning,” Klaus told her, curling up on his side next to her. “Sorry to wake you. You looked like you were having a good dream.”

Vanya frowned. She was familiar with what went on at night, what their father had taken to doing to Klaus. There had been a couple of times when she’d even snuck over to Klaus’ room to keep him company, usually just until he fell asleep, but the two of them had been careful not to share that with any of their siblings. It was more for Klaus’ sake — Luther and Diego would never let him hear the end of it if he confessed to having nightmares.

“I was,” Vanya confirmed. “Want me to tell you about it?”

“Maybe later, okay? You gotta get dressed and come with me.”

Vanya scrunched her eyebrows in confusion, fighting off a yawn. This wasn’t the first night her brother had crept into her room; Klaus was a lonely soul by nature, and he seemed to oscillate between spending his nights with Vanya, Diego, and Ben — Allison, too, when she was feeling especially charitable — but this was the first time he’d asked her to follow him somewhere. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s great,” Klaus told her, nodding enthusiastically. “But we have to hurry, because the others are waiting for us downstairs, okay? You know how Five gets if we make him wait for stuff too long.”

“I don’t get it,” Vanya insisted. “What are we making him wait for? Where are we going?”

Klaus couldn’t contain his excitement anymore. “We’re getting doughnuts!” he exclaimed, hands shaking out of pure giddiness. “Just us seven, we’re all gonna sneak over to that twenty four hour doughnut shop and party! No Dad, no Mom, no Pogo. Just us and about a million maple bars!” Vanya’s responding frown wasn’t exactly what Klaus had been hoping to see. “Hey, what’s wrong? Don’t you wanna come?”

Vanya sighed, crossing her arms over her chest subconsciously. “Do the others want me to go?”

“What do you mean?” Klaus asked. “Of course they do!”

She wasn’t so sure about that. Her siblings weren’t exactly the greatest at including her. Five did his best, often staying up late to make peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches with her, and Klaus and Ben always roped her into their hijinks one way or another, but most of the time it seemed as if her siblings hardly even noticed she was there at all. Half of them probably wouldn’t even bat an eye if she ran off to join the circus.

“I don’t know, Klaus,” she mumbled, frowning at her brother. She pretended not to see the tired bags beneath his eyes, tried to imagine that her brother was a normal and well rested boy the way he deserved to be, one who wasn’t haunted by dead people in dark crypts. “I mean, should we really be sneaking out anyway? You know dad’ll flip if he finds out we left without permission.”

“He’s not going to because none of us are snitches!” Well, except maybe Luther, but Klaus was trying to inspire confidence, not break it down further. “Come on, Vanya, please? For your favorite brother ever?”

She was silent a moment, contemplating. It was no joke that their father would be pissed beyond belief if he found out they’d all snuck out; Vanya couldn’t even begin to imagine the consequences. Plus, they all had a strict wake up time of eight o’clock sharp; if it was already one in the morning, the seven of them were sure to be dead tired when they next awoke. Still... when was the last time they’d gotten to act like normal kids, powers or no powers? When had they ever been able to do something so silly? When would they ever be able to again?

“Okay,” Vanya murmured, sitting up in her bed and waiting for Klaus to right himself as well. “I guess doughnuts sound good. We don’t have any money, though, so how are we supposed to—?”

“Trust me, I have money,” Klaus told her. “Don’t worry about it! I’ll wait outside your door, okay? Make sure you put on something warm.”

“Got it, Dad,” Vanya teased, smiling at her brother. They were the same age, and Klaus certainly didn’t act like it, but Vanya liked to pretend that he was something of an older brother to her. “I’ll be right out.”

—

“They’re taking too long,” Diego complained, leaning his forehead against the nearby wall. He was doing his damnedest not to let the others know just how tired he was, but that was proving exceptionally difficult. “I say we just leave them.”

“That would be rude,” Ben pointed out, tugging his sweatshirt on over his head and stifling a yawn. He wasn’t afraid to look as tired as he felt.

“Not to mention that Klaus is the one with the money,” Five added. His head was covered with an oversized beanie, and the scarf wrapped around his neck only served to dwarf him further. He looked like an adorably oversized, half thawed toddler. “This whole thing was his idea, and he’s the one paying, so. No Klaus, no doughnuts.”

Allison rubbed her eyes, trying not to fall asleep where she sat on the bottom step of the staircase. “Where do you think he even got the money?”

“Probably stole it,” Luther muttered. “I’m still not sure we should be doing this.”

“If you don’t stop being such a killjoy,” Klaus announced from the top of the stairs, Vanya just a step behind him, “then you’re uninvited. We’re going out to have a good time, Luther, not to suck a rulebook’s dick.”

The comment won a collective chuckle from the siblings. Vanya covered her mouth, always amused at Klaus and his eccentricity, and Ben reached up for a high five as soon as the two had made it down to the foot of the staircase. Even Allison let out a bit of a giggle. She wasn’t one to admit it, but excluding Luther, she was pretty sure Klaus was her favorite brother.

Not that any of them would say it out loud, but Klaus was everyone’s favorite brother.

“Is everyone ready?” he asked, reaching into his pocket and patting a small wad of bills to make sure it was still there.

They all looked around at one another, making sure their affairs were in order. In truth, the seven of them looked ridiculous, what with their bundles of warm, black clothing. Vanya, pressed for time, had simply tugged her thick winter coat on over her pajamas, shiny black rain boots adorning her feet. Luther had oversized gloves obscuring his hands, which he kept rubbing together in an effort to gain some feeling back into his fingers. Diego — stupidly, in everyone else’s opinion — had forgone any particularly warm clothing, claiming that only sissies complained about the weather. Ben had taken one look at his brother and gone back to his room to put on an extra layer of clothing, partly because just the sight of Diego had him shivering in his boots, and partly because he wanted to make sure a coat would be available if his stubborn brother changed his mind. Klaus, the only one who had known this outing was coming, had been the most prepared and yet also somehow managed to look the most wild, wrapped in an oversized bubble coat and ready to take on any weather the night may throw at him.

If they were any older, someone might see them out on the street and think they were on their way to vandalize city property. Any younger, and people might’ve assumed that they were dressed as a gaggle of robbers, out to trick or treat at the wrong time of year. Either way they hacked it, this was, perhaps, the first time the siblings had looked anything close to normal in their thirteen years of life.

Their walk wasn’t a long one, thankfully enough. Griddy’s doughnuts was only a few blocks from the academy, and the cold temperature of the night was incentive for the kids to make quick work of the trip. There wasn’t much talking, save for the occasional complaint about the whether and Luther grumbling about how this wasn’t a good idea. Allison tried to convince him not to worry so much, though her words weren’t seeming to sway his paranoia. Klaus made a mental note to himself to thank her for her efforts sometime later.

“Are we even going the right way?” Diego demanded, trying not to let his shivering effect his voice.

“Do you want my jacket?” Ben whispered to him quietly.

“I’m not cold,” Diego snapped, crossing his arms tighter over his chest.

“Trust me, I know where we are,” Klaus responded. “You don’t have to worry.”

“Okay, but you’re sure?”

“Seriously, Klaus,” Luther added. “It’s way too late for us to be getting lost in the city.”

One of these days, Klaus thought to himself, his siblings would have enough confidence in him to take him at his word. Or maybe they wouldn’t. The truth was, he really didn’t care much either way.

“This isn’t the first time Klaus has come out at night,” Five murmured, tugging Vanya sideways by the hand to make sure she avoided stepping in a particularly large puddle. “He probably knows where he’s going better than we do.”

“You’ve gone to get doughnuts without us, Klaus?” Vanya asked, sounding particularly put off by the idea. She felt left out as it was, what with not being able to participate on family outings for crime fighting. Klaus tried to include her as much as he could, more than the others tended to, so to hear that he might’ve been going out on adventures without her hurt her feelings just a touch.

“Oh, no, this is the first time,” he answered quickly, offering her a kind smile. While Five wasn’t technically incorrect — fucking snitch — Klaus had never gone for doughnuts on his late night outings. In fact, the idea of his siblings finding out that he’d actually been making late night trips to buy substances to suppress his powers was terrifying to him. Klaus knew the look that Ben would get, knew that Luther would give him a self righteous talking to and Diego would fix him with a disapproving look. Vanya and Allison might be a bit gentler with him, if the slightest bit judgy, and from the sounds of it, Five already suspected what he was up to. Still... saying it out loud made him feel itchy. “Oh, look, there it is! Who doesn’t know where he’s going, brothers mine?”

Each of them looked across the street to where Klaus pointed, a bright, neon sign winking invitingly at them. For the seven of them, children who had been kept from the outside world in favor of practicing and honing their powers, often against their individual wills, the well lit interior of the doughnut shop was just about the most exciting, wonderful thing they had ever seen.

Diego took one look at the place and let out a shout of relief and desperation, dashing across the street and immediately making for the door. He wasn’t about to say it, but he was just about done with freezing his ass off to look tough. “Let’s go!” he yelled back at his siblings, wrenching the door to the shop open.

The other six exchanged glances with one another, their giddiness bubbling up and out of them. As Five was already grasping one of Vanya’s hands, Klaus grasped her free one and then reached for Ben’s with his other, who in turn grabbed onto Allison’s, who was already holding Luther’s. They all squeezed each other’s palms, reveling in this night of freedom and silliness and borrowed time to behave like children, and let out their own cheers of delight as they charged their way across the street, following in Diego’s footsteps.

—

“Uh... hello... ma’am,” Luther greeted the dumbfounded blonde, middle aged waitress behind the counter. He wasn’t sure why, but he strained to make his voice deeper. It didn’t change the fact that she was staring at him and the other six like they were some freak show — which, technically, they were anyway — but it was enough to make him feel a little more adultish.

“Are you kids lost?” the woman — Agnes, if the name sewn into her uniform was anything to go by — prompted. Her eyes got wide in a way the kids weren’t quite used to. Normally when people were staring at them, it was because they were curious, or they wanted to try and catch a glimpse at them using their powers. This lady seemed more concerned for them than they had ever seen an adult be before. “Where are your parents?”

“We’re old enough to be out by ourselves,” Diego told her politely, trying his hardest to look neither guilty nor disrespectful. “Could we order some doughnuts? Please?”

Agnes glanced between the seven children with wide eyes, taking in the sight of their oversized clothing and pink cheeks as each of them in turn gave her suspiciously innocent grins. She couldn’t be sure whether they were runaways, didn’t know where they had come from or why they were out so late. The only things Agnes did know for certain was that it was nearly two in the morning and below freezing outside. One of the children wasn’t wearing a jacket, and the rest of them looked like they’d just stepped into the White House, they were so amazed. She couldn’t just kick them out... but...

“I’m sorry, kids,” Agnes told them, hating herself for having to steal their excitement away. “But I really can’t just let you sit in here. This is a business, and—“

“Oh, don’t worry!” One of the boys, the tallest of the bunch, stepped forward and climbed up on one of the barstools, shoving his hands into his pockets. When he brought them back out, he dropped several wadded bills — large ones — on the counter in front of her. “We’re paying customers!” When Agnes only managed to stare further, the boy hesitated, glancing at his siblings and then back to Agnes somewhat nervously. “This... that’s enough, right?”

More than enough, actually. Just a cursory glance at the bills that boy had offered up told Agnes there was enough money there for a dozen doughnuts at least six times over. Still, though, where were the kids’ parents? How had they gotten here? Were they plating hooky? Were they trying to escape from authorities? Agnes really should go in the back room and make a call to the authorities, right?

Then again... who was Agnes to deny these kids their fun?

Sighing and resigning herself to the fact that an angry adult could show up at any time, Agnes pulled out her pen and her order pad. “Make yourselves at home, kiddos,” she told them, smiling gently and looking each of them over as they other six climbed up onto stools. “What’ll it be?”

—

 “So, are you gonna tell me why you had all that money?”

Klaus glanced sideways at Diego, not bothering to hide the slight flinch he’d given out of surprise. Diego was always quiet, annoyingly enough, and Klaus had found himself on the other side of a never ending prank war because of it. 

“Don’t see why that’s any of your business,” Klaus replied. He didn’t mean to be unkind, but his siblings were a bunch of cryptic assholes, and Diego was especially dramatic. Could anyone really blame him if that caused his anxiety to spike? “Not like I robbed a convenience store or anything, so you can drop the wannabe Batman voice.”

“I’m not doing my—“

“There it is again!” Klaus teased, pointing a playful finger at Diego’s chest. “Come on, dude, you have to know you don’t sound as tough as you think you do!”

He was deflecting, and he knew it was stupid obvious, but if it got him out of Diego’s interrogation then Klaus could overlook his own shitty acting skills. Besides, it wasn’t like he was acting too much to begin with. He really was happy to be out with his siblings, happy that they could stop pretending to hate each other to enjoy a sweet treat with one another, if only just for a couple of hours. Klaus knew this wasn’t going to last forever, and couldn’t be entirely positive that it was ever going to happen again, but he was just happy that he knew for a fact that his siblings were having a good time because of something he’d done, if only this one time around.

“Hey, I’m macho as hell, scrawny ass,” Diego shot back, unable to help his own little chuckle. Klaus liked his brother best when he was willing to drop his act like that. “And you’re changing the subject.”

“I saved it,” Klaus mumbled, letting his gaze wander over to the shop counter. Vanya and Five were busy seeing how many donuts they could stack atop Ben’s head without the tower falling over. Allison and Luther were whispering conspiratorially to one another, wide, stupidly happy grins on each of their faces. “And I took some stuff to the pawn shop downtown the other day. Guess I was just excited to spend it. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Diego gave his brother a long, blank stare. It made sense Klaus wouldn’t think he’d know any better; all the siblings were generally a bit distant from each other, confused as to whether they should consider the others allies or competition, and Diego made it clear which way his opinion swayed. Still, though, that didn’t mean he never paid attention. His siblings were competition second, family first. Not even their father’s repetitive droning would knock that idea out of his head.

“Let me try again,” he eventually sighed, fixing Klaus with the sternest expression any thirteen year old had ever managed to muster. “What were you gonna do with that money before you decided on a family donut trip?”

“Does it count as a family trip if Mom and Dad aren’t here? And, do we count Pogo, or—“

“Klaus.”

Klaus sighed, suddenly finding the neon vibrancy of the jukebox he’d crossed the room to peruse particularly fascinating. 

“I... you remember when I was sick last month?” He kept his eyes on the jukebox’s track list, but made sure to focus more on Diego. This was a sensitive topic for Klaus, and while he was never embarrassed to share his feelings, he was a bit scared of what his brother might think of him after hearing what he was about to say.

Diego thought a moment, trying to remember the incident Klaus was referring to. “That time you cried every time you swallowed ‘cause your throat was so sore?” He’d been worried Klaus was going to die of laryngitis or whatever he’d been sick with, not that he’d taken the time to express that out loud. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Right, that’s the time.” Jesus, this jukebox was filled with a lot of old school crap, wasn’t it? “Well, anyways, Mom gave me some NyQuil one night, just to help me get to sleep. I don’t think she liked seeing me in pain.” He paused, feeling his eyes growing threateningly warm. “She didn’t know Dad was planning on throwing me in the mausoleum again that night.”

It was silent for a few beats, and Diego scratched the back of his neck in confusion. Klaus kindly ignored the slight horror on his face at the mention of the mausoleum. He’d known their father made Klaus undergo particularly cruel experimentation, but Diego tried not to think about it too often. Shit was depressing, after all, and sympathy wasn’t going to do Klaus any good. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” he said simply.

Klaus frowned, searching for the words but unsure whether he actually wanted to find them. “It’s just... I didn’t see any ghosts that night. Usually they show up as soon as Dad locks me in, but they weren’t there. You know that’s the first time I’ve ever not seen a ghost outside the house?”

He tried not to sound too excited, but that was hard to pull off. Klaus was so used to living in terror, not that his father cared. He liked to think his siblings might, but any worry they offered him wouldn’t be productive, considering they had about as much power as Klaus did. It was a terrible situation that he was powerless to stop, making the fact that he finally had a way to help himself his greatest accomplishment in life.

“Mom gave me more the next night,” he continued, pushing the words out. “And I didn’t see anything then, either. Dad doesn’t even let me take ibuprofen because it’ll inhibit the ghost goggles, you know? But the NyQuil kept knocking me out, so I figured I should try something a little... stronger.” There it was; his big secret. “I was going to try it tonight, but I got too scared and didn’t want to be alone. I had a little money left over and figured you guys would wanna hang out with me if I had doughnuts to give you.”

Diego blinked, trying to make sure he understood correctly. This was the one time he didn’t want to jump to conclusions. “So, you... you bought...?”

“Drugs,” Klaus finished. “Yeah, I did. It’s just weed, but I hear it’s not so bad, and you don’t get, like, addicted. Better than some of the other stuff, y’know?”

Diego was still having trouble processing. His brother Klaus, the freest, most carefree person in the house, was experimenting with drugs? Klaus, who never seemed to be bothered by anything or anyone? Who let Allison paint his nails and flipped off the asshole kids who waited outside the house with the rest of the crowds just to call him a faggot for it with a shiny black-tipped finger?

Klaus was hurting?

What a stupid question. Of course Klaus was hurting; they all were.

“Don’t tell the others, okay?” Klaus pleaded. He clasped his hands tightly in front of him, hoping against hope that Diego would be as cool a brother as he knew he could be. “If they tell Dad, there’s no telling what I’ll—“

“That’s your business, dude.” The words had come out a bit rougher than Diego had intended, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t tell if he was more horrified that Klaus wanted to stoop to as low a level as taking drugs to numb his powers instead of facing them, or that their father had been the one to drag Klaus down to that point in the first place. “It’s got nothing to do with me, just... be careful with it, alright?”

Klaus’ face softened as he understood, able to see through the curtain of Diego’s barbed words. “Love you too, brother. What do you say we go shove some doughnuts down our throats?”

“Sure, Klaus,” he sighed, watching as his brother finally selected a song from the jukebox before heading back over to their siblings. The urge to say something about what his brother had just admitted — Diego wasn’t sure what he could say, only knew that he should say something — wasn’t easily fought off, but he managed. For the sake of this desperately sought out good time between the siblings, Diego let it go.

It wasn’t until he was a few years older and saw just exactly what Klaus would become that Diego wished he would’ve said something, anything to derail the path he’d allowed his brother to take that night.

—

“I’m gonna... oh my god, I’m gonna puke,” Ben muttered, clutching at his stomach in agony as they all trudged home. “I knew I should’ve stopped at that eighth custard filled one. The doughnut holes really messed me up.”

Diego — now noticeably wearing the extra jacket Ben had made sure to bring — carried his brother along, slinging his arms tighter around his shoulders. “What, you would’ve rather gone down like a coward? No, dude, you did good.”

“Yeah,” Allison sighed, leaning heavily on Klaus. Normally that was a position reserved for Luther, but Klaus’ height made him a better standing pillow. “At least you didn’t actually throw up.”

Klaus laughed hard, ignoring his sister’s dirty look. Poor Allison had only made it about four jelly filleds in before running outside to hack her guts up. He wished he’d had a way to record it, if only so they could all laugh about it together later on. He guessed they’d just have to settle for memories.

“I’m gonna pass out,” Vanya sighed, stumbling a bit over a crack in the sidewalk. Five made sure to reach his arms out to catch her, just in case she actually did fall. “Does anyone know what time it is?”

“It was almost four when we left Griddy’s,” Luther muttered, furiously rubbing his eyes in an effort to stay awake. “Are we almost home?”

“We’re literally two feet in front of the mansion, you big baby,” Five scoffed. “God, I’m still coming down off that sugar high. This was such a good idea.”

“Everybody say ‘Thank you, Klaus,’” Klaus teased, shifting his grip on Allison so he could lean forward and pull the door open. He half expected his father or Pogo to be waiting for them all at the door, ready with a shaking fist and a sharp reprimand, but the foyer was dark and no one was to be seen.

“Thanks, Klaus,” Allison murmured down at his side. She smiled at him kindly, using the fact that she was already leaning against him to engulf him in a tight hug. “Really.”

“Yeah, seriously,” Diego chimed in as he and the rest of the siblings shuffled inside. “This was... really cool of you. We love you.” That last sentence was punctuated with a meaningful look, and Klaus had to try really hard not to let it mean too much to him.

“Thanks, Klaus,” Vanya murmured, darting forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

They all took their turns thanking him, hugging him, telling him they loved him and each other. It was the kindest they’d ever collectively been, and that fact was enough to make his chest grow warm.

Klaus watched as, one by one, his siblings disappeared to their rooms, sleepy smiles on their faces and their stresses and anxieties temporarily relieved. Maybe they didn’t get along all the time; maybe they were all obsessed with outshining the others so that their father would like them best. But Klaus had managed to give them all the gift of childlike excitement, had made it possible for them to let go of their worries for a little while. The fact that he had that knowledge, that he knew he’d been responsible for making everyone fell better, that?

That was magical to him.

He went upstairs to his room, changing into pajamas and taking one look at the box on his night stand, the box where he was hiding the drugged brownie he’d managed to get his hands on before disregarding it entirely and moving to get some sleep. His siblings might not have realized it, but they’d given him a gift in return for the one he’d offered. None of them knew it, not even Klaus himself, but sneaking out together to go get donuts and make happy memories together had bought Klaus his last two weeks of sobriety.

But, then again, no good deed ever truly went unpunished. Five would go missing in the next week, lost to a stupid desire to prove that he could time travel, and Ben would die horribly the week after that, leaving Klaus the only one who could speak to him for the rest of his days. Luther and Allison were closing themselves off, Diego was pushing him away, and he couldn’t stand to look at Vanya anymore because he knew Five wouldn’t be beside her like he always used to be.

So, eventually, Klaus ate the brownie, then began experimenting with other, stronger things, and before he knew it, he’d all but mentally checked out of reality. Let his surviving siblings call him a coward, let his father consider him the greatest disappointment imaginable, Klaus didn’t care. As long as he could numb the pain, as long as he could look back on that happy memory of the donut shop and forget everything else that had happened to both him and his siblings, he would be fine.

Because finding bliss? Being happy?

That was all that mattered now.

Klaus would never see a sober day again for the next sixteen odd years, but as long as he had that last good memory to hold on to while he was doping up and numbing the pain, he didn’t much care.

[thekaijux]

Fandom ask thing: Godzilla

Whew boy, I’ve beenputting this off for too long…

Let’s be real here: thisone HAD to be asked eventually. XD Since my Godzilla knowledge stems prettydeep, I’m going to do something akin to the Pokemon Ask where I’ll havemultiple answers per sector. So… Let’s begin!

Favorite Male Character

THE MATTHEW BRODERICKCHARAC– XD Nah, I’m just pulling legs here. Though truth be told, I think I’mgoing to emphasize more of the humans / aliens here as opposed to the monsters,if only because I feel like there are some very strong characters littered throughoutthe franchise that I feel need / deserve more recognition. But for anyone curious about the monsters, just know that Iabsolutely love all monsters from the Godzilla series and the greater Tohouniverse.

While a lot ofrightful praise goes to Dr. Serizawa from the 1954 classic Gojira for his complexity and torn humanity of what’s right (a la,keep the Oxygen Destroyer a secret or use it to kill Godzilla), I’d actuallylike to point to his quote-unquote “counterpart” from 1984′s The Return of Godzilla, Dr. Hayashida.He’s a man who went into the scientific field to exact his revenge on Godzilla,only to mature over the course of 30 years and let it go. Honestly, the dudehas complexity, and it’s a nice subversion to the whole “obsessiverevenge” trope. There’s wisdom and mystique to Hayashida that I don’t think hasbeen recaptured, and part of that can be attributed to the late YosukeNatsuki’s performance. Stellar work.

Likewise, for thealiens, a ton of rightful praise goes to the Xilien Controller from Invasion of Astro-Monster (or, Godzilla vs. Monster Zero). I think inmany ways, if he didn’t blatantly state that they were using magnetic waves andif humanity didn’t have the ability to pull a new weapon out of its arse, hewould have conquered Earth. While it’s still obvious he’s the villain, there’sa certain calculative, methodical cunningness to his personality (at least forbeing a 1960s Sci-Fi alien from a script that was written on the fly) that I thoroughlyenjoy each time I watch Astro-Monster. 

Favorite Female Character

Personal favorite ofthe G-series’ ladies goes to the Xilien agent Miss Namikawa from Astro-Monster.She’s a stellar femme fatale who, in many respects, helps save the world at theend of the day. Being played by the beautiful Kumi Mizuno really helps, haha.

Additionally, KatsuraMafune is another great addition to the Godzilla series. While the executionwasn’t perfect, I do enjoy the melodrama of Terrorof Mechagodzilla, and Katsura’s arc was easily one of the highlights.

Least Favorite Character

Out of these… Myleast favorite I’m sadly giving to the Kilaaks. Granted, I think the Nebulansare also kinda on the low-ranking scale for me, but the Kilaaks are a biggerdisappointment to me because they felt like carbon copies of the Xiliens. Andunlike the Nebulans, the Kilaaks don’t have any new monsters! Well, there’s theFire Dragon, but that’s only a Kilaak UFO. Ghidorah reaaaaaally could’ve used the help there! Now that’s not to say I absolutely loathe themor despise them; but then comes the issue that they’re too bland to even beangry about. XD

Favorite Ship

Glenn and Namikawa,easily. ;) Even if the screentime for their relationship is sparse, you do geta feeling from those two, especially when Namikawa’s killed. Glenn’s reactionis damn well genuine and leads toprobably one of my favorite lines from the movie. An alternative, if I had togive any, would be Miki and Godzilla. :P

Favorite Friendship

JET JAGUAR IS EVERYONE’SBEST FRIEND SHUT UP.

Okay, whew… Stillstrictly speaking humans, this one is generally harder for me to pin down whatmy favorite friendship would be. If I had to go off the top of my head, thesibling relationship between Shindo and Naoko in Ghidorah, the Three-Headed Monster is a lot of fun. Dare I say, Ithink the good guys from Ebirah, Horrorof the Deep (or, Godzilla vs. the SeaMonster) are a treat to watch interact. Same could be said for theprotagonists of Godzilla vs.SpaceGodzilla, even if the movie is rough on the edges.

Favorite Quote

For the sake of my ownsanity, I’m only going to roll with one—and I think everyone can take a goodguess to what it is.

“Nature has a way sometimes of reminding Manof just how small he is. She occasionally throws up terrible offspring’s of ourpride and carelessness to remind us of how puny we really are in the face of atornado, an earthquake, or a Godzilla. The reckless ambitions of Man are oftendwarfed by their dangerous consequences. For now, Godzilla - that strangelyinnocent and tragic monster - has gone to earth. Whether he returns or not, oris never again seen by human eyes, the things he has taught us remain…”

Worst Character Death (if any)

Katagiri’s death, nodoubt. Being the personal target to the King of the Monsters himself? You knowyou’ve done goofed. It’s even worse in the manga adaptation.

This made me so happy you have no idea Moment

It’s hard for me toimmediately recall a moment with the human characters that made me flee gleefuland excited… Though a moment that immediately comes to mind is Yuko’s speechfrom Mothra vs. Godzilla (the ’64 film).Ya’ll should know what I’m talking about.

Saddest Moment

OH LORDIE, SEEING MIKISAD MAKES ME SAD. ;_; I also have to point out Akane Yashiro (even if she’sjust a bit angsty) and Sara Yuhara from GodzillaAgainst Mechagodzilla are incredibly depressing, especially Sara. She losther mother, with only a little plant serving as her last connection, and shewonders why she couldn’t be brought back with the same technology used forKiryu. Katsura’s suicide and Namikawa’s execution are also heavy hitters.

Favorite Location

Okay,so I’ll be honest, I’ve put this one off for so long, I can’t remember what Iwas originally going to say. Darn you past self for not leaving any notes! XDSo I’m just going to pull one straight from the top of my head: Birth Island.From SpaceGodzilla. Because that had a REALLY pretty and romantic sunset.

There,I’m done. XD Sorry it took this long to respond, just been BUSY. Ugh. But I hope ya’ll enjoy it! :)

[currentlylurking]

dude what even is taz????

Oh it’s really simple! TAZ is about three boys named Magnus, Merle, and Taako who are tasked with finding  khhhshkhhhhsshhkhhhshkhkshskkhh khhhskhhhhhhsshkkhhhhhshhkshkkhhkshskshkhshshhkkhhh

I’m sorry that’s my favourite joke

Taz, or @theadventurezone, is a D&D podcast! It’s run by Griffin Mcelroy, who DMs for his brothers Justin (Taako, an elf wizard), Travis (Magnus, a human fighter), and his dad Clint (Merle, a dwarf Cleric). You might know of these guys from the time Griffin and Justin broke Fallout 4, or from the amount of times Griffin’s put amiibos in his mouth.

In short, Merle, Magnus, and Taako are recruited by a secretive, memory altering moon-based organization to find seven grand relics created by a group of red robed dicks who nearly caused the end of the world. They’re pretty successful, much to everyone’s surprise.

Along the way they meet Killain, a wonderfully badass orc who loves ducks and later gets a girlfriend who she loves a lot; the Director, their boss who definitely doesn’t care about them lots or enjoy their company what would ever give you that impression; Johann, an amazing bard who plays them the best song they’ve ever heard in an elevator, much to Taako’s horror; Angus Mcdonald, a 10 year old who is the world’s greatest detective and definitely not Taako’s adopted son nope; Pringles, or Robbie, who is arguably the worst roommate but they love him anyways; Carey, a glorious lesbian lizard and Magnus’ good pal; at least two fish friends, one of which has an angsty backstory; and so many more lovely NPCs.

Taz has an intense, emotional story with wonderful twists and amazing scenes, but plenty of jokes along the way. In addition, the Mcelroys make a constant effort to be as inclusive and unproblematic as possible, and will fully acknowledge their mistakes. 

The Adventure Zone is a glorious podcast, and I fully recommend checking it out! While the first arc is good, it nowhere near demonstrates what these characters are capable of. Here’s a link to episode 1.5 - don’t mind episode 1, I’ve listened to them both and 1.5 is just a better edited version of 1. And here’s a link to the rest!

And in case this isn’t convincing enough, guess who appeared in a recent donor/bonus episode as a bard? 

Lin-Manuel Miranda. I couldn’t make this up if I tried.