#just gets to me. no two tellings of beowulf were the same until someone wrote the story down and now we have a version that

[st-crylo]

Rebound

Part 8

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to get this part out! Thanks for your patience, new update day is Wednesday nights!!

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of drugs

Word Count: 4.5K

Tagging: @haylaansmi @nankstasty @thomasscresswell @maybe-your-left

Masterlist

You took a deep breath, looking between your mom’s car in the driveway, and the front door of your house. She had to know sooner or later, and you’d put it off a little too long. Of course, you weren’t going to tell the whole truth, after all even the half truth would be too much for your mother. Taking another deep breath, you opened the door, and crossed the threshold into your house. 

“Hey, sweetie, how was school today?” she asked almost the moment you closed the front door behind you. Ah yes, the dreaded question that would kick start your news. You supposed there was no time like the present.

“Really good! I actually got asked to homecoming today,” you said, walking into the living room where your mom was sitting with your dad. You watched as her face lit up, clearly excited for what was an obvious win in her book. Oh, this was going to be painful.

“Really? Who asked you?” She asked, excitement filling her voice, causing your heart to pound from within your chest. Now or never. Now or never, you repeated in your mind as you gave a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Ben Solo.”

As you’d expected, your mom’s face changed from one of joy to pure shock. It wasn’t an angry shock, after all even she had to admit that someone asking you out after what happened was a good thing, it was simply the person who had asked you. After the shock wore off, her face faded into one of discomfort.

“Honey...are you sure you wanna go to homecoming with him?” she asked, looking to your dad, who simply raised his hands and looked away, abstaining from this conversation. You let out a sigh, your smile turning to a frown. 

“Yes, I’m sure. He’s a nice guy mom, and he is trying to be better. Besides, we were really good friends until seventh grade,” you pointed out. Your mom still had a frown on her face, and she was twiddling her thumbs, trying to think of a response. You knew there was really no way she was going to say no, after all, she was the one who wanted you to live the most fun senior year. There was no way something as trivial as the boy who asked you to homecoming would change that. Though, just because you knew the facts didn’t mean you weren’t anxious about what she was going to say next. 

“Okay,” she finally relented, causing you to let out a breath you’d been holding in. “But I want you to promise that you’re going to be safe, okay?”

“Of course, mom. Besides, we’re going with a group, so there really won’t be any way for us to get into trouble,” you assured her, though you knew your friends were more than capable of finding trouble to be in.

“Okay, that’s good. The dance is next Saturday, right?” your mom asked, and you simply nodded. “Alright. Well, I hope you two will let me take pictures here. Why don’t you ask all your friends to take pictures here?” 

Just like I thought, you mused to yourself. “Yeah, I can see if they’re down!”

Soon, you were retreating to your room, pulling out your phone and dialing Sami’s number. It took two rings before she picked up.

“Hey, what’s up?” she asked from the other end of the line.

“Told my mom about homecoming,” you said, plopping down on your bed, laying back against the headboard and staring up at the ceiling. 

“Oh, sick. What did she say?”

“I can tell she’s not happy about it, but she’s not gonna say no. Also, she wants us all to take pictures here at my place. This’ll probably work out for Kylo too, that way his grandparents can take pictures as well,” you informed her.

“I’m totally cool with that, Mom’s not gonna be here that weekend anyways, so I’ll just get pictures from you to show her. What are you gonna do about getting a dress?” Sami asked.

“Was probably gonna go shopping on Friday for one. Can’t go Saturday because I have dinner with the Solo’s, so that’s gonna take my whole day to mentally prepare for,” you said, frowning as you thought of the idea of sitting down at a table with Kylo’s parents. Sami laughed from the other side of the receiver. 

“Well, if you want, we can go together. After all, you should definitely wear something hot, if Avarez is gonna be there. That shit will drive him up the wall,” Sami responded. You could almost feel the coy in her voice, and you laughed as well. Any excuse to get Shawn heated was good for you, especially after what had happened earlier. 

“It’s gonna be weird, seeing Kylo in a tux,” you pointed out. You’d never really seen him dress formally, he usually just wore his black jeans and leather jacket. To see him dressed up would definitely be new.

“It’s weird, seeing men like Kylo dress formally. Last year, Milo rented this really nice tux for prom, the vest matched my dress and everything. It was wild, but weirdly hot,” Sami said, causing you to shake your head. 

“Alright, well, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you said, hearing your mom’s voice call you downstairs for dinner.

“See ya!” Sami said before the line went dead. With that, you got up off your bed and headed down for dinner.

***

The rest of the week seemed to pass by quickly, Friday seeming to appear in a flash, and as you settled down beside Kylo in English, you could feel your excitement grow tremendously. You’d never been so excited to buy a homecoming dress, and you honestly felt that it was more about the fact that you’d get to go shopping with Sami and Phasma. 

Phasma would be driving you three to Coruscant, where you’d meet up with Jordan at one of the malls there. Your mom had given you her card and said you could get dinner in the city as well. You’d never gone shopping in Coruscant before, so needless to say, you were excited beyond belief. 

“Calm down, you’re practically bouncing off the walls,” Kylo joked as you quickly pulled out your finished paper for Beowulf. You were so ready to move on to the next book, you practically threw your paper at Mr. Skywalker when he passed by. 

“Alright class, we’re going to be reading Hard Times starting on Monday. So, let’s get into some background, shall we?” Mr. Skywalker said from the front of the class, turning a video on from the projector. You tried not to yawn as the incredibly monotonous British narrator began to talk about Dickens, and the period he wrote in. 

“Can’t fucking stand Dickens,” Kylo said from beside you, causing you to laugh. “He’s only so descriptive because he was getting paid per word.” A fact that the monotonous video would soon bring up. 

You couldn’t really help but drift off a couple of times during class, and you were almost fully asleep when the overhead lights were turned on after the third video. Blinking to help your eyes adjust to the lights, you stretched your arms out, trying to hold back a yawn as you reached over to put all your stuff away. In front of you, Sami was lightly snoring, and was being shaken awake by Phasma, who was trying hard not to laugh. Once Sami was awake, she looked confused, and a little grumpy, as she wiped a small amount of drool from her lip. 

“Alright, I’ll be handing out copies on Monday. Before you leave, don’t forget to drop off your copy of Beowulf in one of these bins. I will hunt you down if you don’t turn it back in,” Mr. Skywalker said as the whole class began shuffling around, fishing for their books in their backpacks and putting all their stuff away. Kylo took all of your copies up to the front, briefly nodding at his uncle as he placed them all in the bin before walking back to your group of desks. As soon as Kylo was back, the bell rang, and the biggest group of students hurried out the door, heading for their cars or however they were planning on getting back home. You slowly stood from your desk and grabbed your backpack, putting your arms through the straps as you waited for everyone else.

As usual, once the crowd had passed, the four of you walked out of the English room, heading towards the entrance of the school.

“It’s gonna be weird, not having you ride home with me today,” Kylo stated, looking down at you. “I’m gonna be so alone.” Kylo started pretending to pout and cry, to which you playfully punched him in the arm, causing him to laugh. He shook his head before running a hand through his black hair.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, provided you don’t make any stops on the way home,” Phasma quipped as the four of you stepped out of the school, stepping into the September sun. Kylo looked around first, noticed that people were watching, and he drew you close, pressing his lips against your forehead before bringing you in for a hug. You wrapped your arms around him, also conscious of the eyes watching you, before looking up at Kylo, who had that same smirk on his face as always. You smiled at him before the two of you let go.

“Text me when you get home, okay?” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“I will. See ya later,” you said before turning towards Phasma and Sami, walking towards Phasma’s car. It was a quaint little car, just an old silver toyota, and you tried to keep up as Sami sprinted towards it.

“Shotgun!” she yelled as you and Phasma laughed when Sami reached the passenger door, desperately trying to open the door. Phasma used the key fob and unlocked the door, and Sami climbed in as fast as lightning. You laughed as you climbed in behind her, throwing your backpack on the other side of the back seat of Phasma’s car. Phasma climbed into the driver’s seat and started the car, putting her phone on a mount as she pulled up the directions to the mall Jordan had suggested.

“Thank God we’re getting dresses in the city, I need to get away from this town for a bit,” Sami said, rolling down the window as Phasma pulled out of her parking spot. 

“What about you, Phasma? I can’t imagine you’re the dress type?” you asked from the back.

“Nah, I’m trying to find a tux instead. I saw this cool floral one online and I’m thinking about wearing that, if I can find it. Who wants the aux?” she said. She held up the aux cord and immediately Sami snatched it from her, plugging it into the headphone jack in her phone. She then pulled up a playlist of music you weren’t really familiar with, but it seemed the same style that Kylo listened to. You thought about how funny it was, this was the first time in over a month that you’d been in the car with someone who didn’t have a cassette player. 

The drive to Coruscant was fun. Occasionally, Sami would play a song that the three of you could sing to, and as you watched the suburbs go by as you rode on the interstate. It was interesting to see the landscape change from rows upon rows of houses to the city skyline, skyscrapers rising and putting a feeling of awe in your heart. 

Soon, Phasma was pulling off the interstate, driving along with the city’s traffic towards the mall. Soon, and to Phasma’s relief, the three of you were pulling off into the mall’s parking lot.

“How come no one in the city knows how to drive?” Phasma said with a frown as she pulled into a parking spot.

“Ya know, I’m pretty sure they feel the same way about you,” Sami mused before pulling the aux cord out of her phone. The three of you all got out of the car, and Phasma put her phone up to her ear as she called Jordan. You pulled out your phone and saw a text from Kylo.

You ladies make it to the city okay? Also Gran won’t stop asking me about you today.

You smiled as you read the message, glad that Mrs. Skywalker liked you so much. You quickly typed your response back.

We made it better than we would have if you were driving. I have a feeling you’re a scary interstate driver. Also, tell your Gran I said hi, you responded before putting your phone away.

“What’s the dirt?” Sami asked, catching you smiling at your phone.

“Nothing, just letting Kylo know we got here safely, while also making fun of him. You know, the usual,” you said as you slid your phone into your pocket. Though you’d stopped looking at your phone, the smile still remained.

Sami nodded her head sagely as a car pulled up besides Phasma’s. She couldn’t help but think that if she didn’t know any better, she too would think you and Kylo were dating. Phasma put down her phone as Jordan rolled down the window, smiling at the three of you.

“Hello ladies!” she said before turning off the car and climbing out. When she was out, she ambled over to Phasma, who placed a kiss on her cheek before wrapping an arm around her shoulder. After that, the four of you practically strutted into the mall together, you and Sami following behind Jordan and Phasma.

There was something about going to a fancy mall in the wealthy part of the city that was just different. Of course you’d been to malls before, but to go into a mall with all sorts of designer brands and expensive department stores, it was a little overwhelming. You were in absolute awe as you passed each of the different stores, window shopping all the expensive items and wishing you had money for them. 

Soon, the four of you were heading into a Bloomingdale’s, which was intimidating to say the least. You and Sami exchanged looks as you walked in, knowing the price was going to be a little bit more than you’d anticipated. However, you heaved a sigh as you accepted that this would be a better way to not have the same dress as everyone else.

“(y/n), I think you should wear red or black. It’s very on par with whatever Kylo would want to wear,” Jordan says as you approach the semi-formal dresses. 

“Idk, I think you should wear a midnight blue. It’ll get Kylo to step out of his comfort zone,” Sami added as you all started to search through the racks. You pushed aside bright pink dresses and some weird green shades, but you never really found anything you liked.

“What about you, Sami? I know Milo isn’t gonna have time to come down, so are you coordinating with anyone?” Jordan asked Sami before pulling out a dark green dress, and holding it up to Sami’s figure.

“Yeah, Pat is my ‘date.’ We thought it would be more convenient, since, like you said, Milo is busy being a college student hours away. Also, that’s cute, let me see,” Sami said as she reached for the dress in Jordan’s hand. You laughed as Sami inspected the dress, nodding her head in approval as she examined. She then searched for her size. 

You pushed through a different rack of dresses before coming across a gorgeous blue dress. It had an A-line skirt made of blue tulle with a blue satin interfacing that ended a little above the knees, and a sweetheart neckline with off-shoulder sleeves. The bodice was beaded with small silver beads, making the top of the dress almost look like a night sky. With a smile, you rummaged through the dresses until you found your size. 

“You find something, (y/n)?” Phasma asked as she watched you. You simply nodded before pulling out the dress in your size, and holding it up. 

“Ha, I win. Midnight blue forever,” Sami said, sticking her tongue out at Jordan, who reciprocated. 

“Let’s try them on,” you said excitedly, dragging Sami to the dressing room. The woman at the desk led you to separate fitting rooms, and as soon as you were in, you were undressing, ready to see if you liked the way the dress fit on your body. As soon as you put it on, you knew it was the one. It fit your body amazingly, and made you feel so confident in it. You loved it with every part of your being.

Stepping out of the fitting room, you were greeted by Jordan and Phasma, who both smiled when you stepped out.

“(y/n), that is absolutely gorgeous,” Jordan said.

Soon, Sami was also stepping out of her fitting room. Her dress was very similar to yours in shape, but made all with satin. The forest green color looked gorgeous on her tan skin, and really made the color of her eyes pop.

“I love that,” you told Sami, and Jordan and Phasma both nodded in agreement. 

After you and Sami had decided that you’d found the dresses you wanted, the four of you then moved to find a blazer for Phasma. She ended up settling on a black blazer with a floral pattern on it. You, Jordan, and Sami all agreed that it made her look very sophisticated. Jordan especially loved it, practically fawning over her girlfriend, even after you’d all made your purchases. 

The four of you headed for the food court, where you decided to split up for food. You and Sami decided on chinese food, contently carrying the styrofoam boxes back to the table that you’d all decided to meet at. Taking a seat, you began digging into your food as Phasma and Jordan approached, each with food in hand. As Jordan and Phasma sat down, they too began to dig into their food.

“So,” Jordan started after swallowing a bite, “what’s the tea? What’s been going on at good ole Mos Eisley High?”

“(y/n) finally called out Shawn. It was badass, based on what Kylo told me,” Sami said, looking at you and grinning mischievously. You rolled your eyes before shaking your head.

“It wasn’t that big of a deal. I just wasn’t gonna deal with his bullshit anymore, especially since he tried to call me a slut,” you explained. Jordan had that same look on her face as Sami, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Rich, coming from him. Anything else?” Jordan responded.

“Pat’s planning an after party for homecoming,” Phasma added, poking around at her food. “I figured I’d warn you guys that he’s planning to invite Hux.”

Sami’s fork dropped from her hand, and Jordan gasped loudly.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sami asked, rage dripping from her voice. “I don’t understand why Pat still hangs out with that asshole, especially after all the shit he’s done.”

“I know. Also, was he planning to invite Kylo?” Jordan asked, her attention solely on Phasma. You couldn’t help but keep a keen attention on what she was saying either. After all, you only knew that Hux was the person Kylo’s ex had cheated on him with. You wanted to know more about him, though, to see why else everyone hated him. 

“That’s just the thing,” Phasma began, “he is planning to invite Kylo. When I asked him if he thought that was wise, he said that there would be so many people there, they probably wouldn’t even run into each other. I told him he’s being a dumbass.”

“Yeah, a dumbass is right. If Kylo sees Hux without first being warned that he’s there, Kylo will beat the shit out of him,” Sami said before taking another bite from her food.

“Maybe not. I don’t think Kylo wants little Armitage running off to his cop dad. That’s why he got put on house arrest in the first place,” Jordan remarked, causing you to become confused.

“Kylo told me that he was put on house arrest for vandalism,” you said. Everyone turned and looked at you, all of them heaving a collective sigh.

“Kylo would say something like that. Look, don’t tell him I told you, but Kylo was arrested because Armitage planted drugs on him. Luckily, he’s a minor, and on top of that, his mom has a lot of influence with the judges. They didn’t believe that the drugs had been planted, but they agreed on house arrest after his drug test came back negative,” Jordan explained.

“How did Kylo know the drugs were planted?” you asked.

“Because Armitage was at the park that day, trying to taunt Kylo into fighting him. Kylo told me that he went to the bathroom, but accidentally left his stuff outside, and Armitage must have planted them then. Also, the officer who happened to search Kylo was Brendol Hux not even ten minutes after Armitage had left,” Sami added. “None of us know all the details, so if you really want to know, you should ask Kylo. You should also warn Kylo about Hux coming to Pat’s after party.”

You nodded in agreement before going back to eating your food, thinking. It seemed like Armitage Hux had a personal vendetta against Kylo, and now you wanted to know why. Was it because of Hux and Stella, or was it something deeper? You would ask one of the girls, but this was something you wanted to hear from Kylo himself. You didn’t want to worry about speculation, and what might be truth or lie. 

On the way home, as you watched the city’s skyscrapers fade into the suburbs, you couldn’t help but continue to think, and you knew that you wanted to talk to Kylo as soon as you got home.

Hey, we just left the city. Is it okay if we talk when I get back? You texted, letting out a sigh as you waited for his reply.

Yeah, I have something I need to tell you, too. See ya when you get home, he responded. After that, you felt your shoulders tense up as you wondered what it was that Kylo needed to tell you. Deciding not to worry about it, you continued to look out the window as the three of you inched ever closer to home.

Phasma decided to drop you off first. As she pulled into the cul de sac where you lived, you noticed Kylo leaning against his car, smoking a cig and staring down at his phone. As Phasma slowed down in front of him, he looked up, waving at Phasma and Sami as you stepped out of the car. 

“Thanks for the ride, Phas,” you said as you waved goodbye.

“No problem. We should do it again some time!” She called out before she and Sami waved goodbye, driving away from the two of you. With a sigh, you turned to face Kylo, and you decided to lean against his car beside him. 

“So, what did you want to talk about?” he asked after taking a drag. 

“So, Phasma told me that Pat is throwing a homecoming after party-”

“I would expect no less.”

“And apparently he’s inviting Hux.”

You could almost feel Kylo’s jaw clench from beside you, and as you looked up into his eyes, you could see the fire of rage behind them. He was more contained than you expected, and as you watched him take another drag from his cigarette, you wondered if he were simply waiting to explode. However, when he sighed as he exhaled the smoke, he shook his head.

“Of fucking course. We’ll go, but if he tries to start something, we’re leaving,” he said. “Is that it?”

You thought for a moment if you wanted to ask him about his relationship with Hux, but you decided you would ask another time. You didn’t want to upset him more than he already was, so you decided to change the subject.

“Nope. I also wanted to tell you to get a dark blue tie,” you said, smiling up at him. He smiled back at you, but you noticed it didn’t reach his eyes. A part of you regretted telling him about Hux, but you knew it was for the best. “So, what did you wanna tell me?”

“Oh! Well, I talked to my mom earlier, and so, basically, the whole family is coming over for dinner,” he said, rubbing the nape of his neck and avoiding eye contact with you.

“Okay?” you asked, confused on why this was a bad thing.

“That means Rey is gonna be there, too,” he said in a murmur. Your body filled with cold after you heard that, and you couldn’t help but frown. First of all, this was about to be a very awkward dinner. Secondly, you hadn’t told Kylo about Rey, so you weren’t sure how he knew to warn you.

“Look, it doesn’t take a genius to know that my cousin judges anyone who’s dating me. You didn’t need to tell me that you and Rey had a fallout, I guessed it would happen eventually,” Kylo said, practically reading your mind. “I am curious why you didn’t tell me, though.”

With a sigh, you crossed your arms across your chest. “Because she said some things about you that weren’t okay. I didn’t want to reiterate those words to you because she’s still your family,” you explained. 

“Just because she’s my family doesn’t mean she always thinks highly of me, I accepted that a long time ago. Besides, if she’s thinking less of you because you and I are a thing, then maybe you need a break from her,” Kylo added before dropping the cigarette butt to the ground and stomping it out. He then reached over and picked it up, clenching it in his hand as he let out a sigh. “Look, my grandparents like you, and I’m pretty sure my parents will like you. That’s the goal, after all. I wouldn’t worry about what Rey thinks right now.”

You thought about his words for a moment before letting out yet another sigh. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Kylo,” you said before turning to face him. He turned to face you as well, bringing you in for a hug. As he held you flush against his body, your arms wrapped around his waist, and his around your shoulders, you breathed in his scent, feeling a wave of calm overcome you.

“No problem, (y/n). I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner,” he said before letting you go. Once he did, you smiled up at him before turning around, heading for your house, ready to go to bed after your day of shopping.

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  The Dark Curse

Chapter 164:  Future Hiding Spots

What was he thinking? Was he insane? Going crazy?! If his behavior was any indication, then yes, obviously!

He'd given her a bedroom! A fucking bedroom! Why had he given her a bedroom?! He should have been trying to figure a way to get away from her, the last thing he needed was for her to be closer! All he could think when he returned from arguing with Samuel, yet another stupid and pointless thing he'd done, was that it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Until he entered his own bedroom, the one space he'd been using as a retreat from her and realized that he could hear her heartbeat, he could smell her hair, and that was when it dawned on him that she was right down the hall, asleep in a bedroom probably in nothing but a shift! All it would take was a good fire to see right through it and-

He was an idiot! It was exactly thoughts like that which drove him to try and figure out something to do with her and yet, now that he was in his room, he realized that he'd had the perfect opportunity, his pride just hadn't allowed him to see it until it was too late. He didn't want to release her to the world for fear of the dangers out in it. But, if he'd taken Samuel up on his offer, he would have been assured that she had some kind of protection! And yet…

He couldn't bear the thought of it. He wasn't confident that he wouldn't be able to let her go, not in a trade like she was just some common object, and not like...that! He would never have been able to just give her to someone like her friend had been. Frankly, he wasn't sure that after what transpired, the complete details of which were still elusive to him, she would have gone with the boy. And now he was here, alone in his room, his head filled with thoughts of her as she slept down the hall in her new bedroom. She was only a stone's throw from where he sat now. Moran.

Fortunately for him, he had work to be done, quite a bit more of it than he'd planned on thanks to Belle. Up in the tower, he was confronted with not one item but two that he was intrigued by; the book from the boy, and the legendary Pandora's box. Which one he needed to deal with first, was obvious.

He had several items in his collection that could potentially be harmful to him. They were purposefully spread out in different areas all over the castle, hidden in different ways with different magic as a precaution. Individually, each of these objects were strong on their own and quite dangerous to him, the last thing he wanted was for someone to break in like Robin Hood had and gain access to all of them at once. As it was now, someone might find something, they might break through one of his spells, he might gain access to a single item, but spread out as they were it was highly unlikely anyone besides himself would ever possess all of them. His tower held the Curse as well as his mother's wand and the others in his collection...the Room-Without-Doors already had its fair share of artifacts, not the least of which was the true Queen of Arendelle. Downstairs Beowulf's sword sat inconspiculously. It was clear to him now that Pandora's box needed to join the other items in their concealment. The question was how and where…

He had an idea.

Downstairs in Belle's kitchen, there was a small cabinet, one that she used to house the simple china they used for breakfast, dinner, and of course, teatime. Teatime…oh, he had the best idea he'd ever had.

He used his magic to form a hole in the stone floor just in front of the cabinet. He concealed the hole in wood, added some hinges and a circular ring that he attached to the door to easily pull the door on the ground up to open it and push it down to shut it. He cast spells over the hideaway, spells that concealed the magic that the box gave off, magic that dampened the call of the Dark Magic. Then he set the box into the freshly made refuge and closed the new lid over it. Obviously, he couldn't leave it like that. The way it was Belle would come down first thing in the morning, find it, and open it herself. He didn't know what had transpired between her and Samuel, if she knew what the box was or how to operate it. He trusted her not to use it on him, but he didn't trust anyone else that might break in and find it. He had to conceal it. A simple glamor linked to a lock and key would do the job. And he knew exactly what he wanted that key to be.

He opened the cabinet. There was their tea set. Not just their tea set, but the tea set. It was the tea set that he'd once traded the life of a cheating husband for because the Seer said that it was going to be important one day. Now he knew how it would be important. He found that teacup, the same one he'd held all those years ago, the one which just so happened to have the chip in it, thanks to Belle. He was rather grateful for that now. It would make it easy to identify in the future.

He set the chipped cup upon one of the matching saucers; he set the key into the lock. It was a simple spell, one that connected that lock and that key to the hiding spot, when the time was right, he slipped his hand into the cabinet removed the cup from the saucer, and watched as the door vanished from sight. An easy but tricky glamour, for only if someone had both the lock and the key would the door open for them. And no one, not even Belle, was going to find that lock.

He used his potion and blood to mark the saucer, the teacup, and then the entire damn cabinet, just to make sure that all of it came with him in the Curse. He pocketed the saucer before he closed the cabinet door, wondering if Belle would notice that a piece was missing from the collection. Probably, but with it hidden in his tower it was unlikely she'd find it.

Pandora's box hidden away and sunrise still hours away, he was excited to return to his tower, hide the saucer, and then pick up the book he'd been longing to read. He sat by his fire, channeling Belle as he paged through the book. There was no indication which realm it might have come from, but it was clear that it wasn't from this world simply because it was about this world.

It was impressive, because he'd taken it off of a little boy he'd expected the book to be filled with children's stories, but it read like a manual on the Enchanted Forest. It held information on the Kingdom, stories about legends, warnings, even a bit about the role Fairies and dwarves played in society. He was on the fence as to whether or not the author had ever been to the Enchanted Forest, reason being that somethings he wrote about were quite accurate, like the bit about dwarves being born from eggs and fairies being related to the stars. However, the section on him, the Dark One, was less than accurate.

The tome didn't seem old, chances were that he'd been the Dark One when it was written, but the book never mentioned his name, real or otherwise. The book did mention that he liked to make deals, but the things that the book claimed he did were a combination of childish pranks and bitter revenge-fueled tricks. It described him as a villainous creature with little soul. It described nothing of his curse, nothing of his dagger, nothing of the Dark One's origins. But…

The boy was right. It didn't contain and origin story, but it did contain a conclusion. His heart raced and for once the hum in his head that was caused by the other Dark One's dimmed as he sat forward and read on, devouring the words he saw before him. It wasn't a detailed account, nothing in the book was, but the book was still very clear. There was a cure for his curse.

Get rid of it, one of the Dark Ones warned nervously.

According to the book, it lay in another land but which land it did not give away.

Stop reading and get rid of it.

In this other land, a "guide" would lead the Dark One to a Guardian.

Stop this now!

With a proper wish, the Guardian would take the powers of the Dark One and leave him a human man again.

I said get rid of it!

Nimue's screech had him throwing the book across the room, where it slammed to the floor. His heart was doing more than racing. His stomach was rolling. He felt like he was going to be sick, but he didn't know if he was going to be sick with fear or sick with excitement.

"These things are not for you to consider! They are poison to all of us, not just you. Get rid of it!"

"What are you doing here?" he questioned with a sneer. His fingers slipped inside his boot and pulled forth his dagger. The name written on it was his own. There was no explanation for why Nimue was there. She hadn't stood before him in this tower for more than a century! "I didn't summon you."

"You know why I'm here, Rumple! We only appear when you are filled with doubt! My uninvited presence should tell you just how dangerous that book and the ideas within it are. Listen to me when I tell you…get rid of it! Now!" she hissed. She reached out her hand, and he felt magic fill the room as the book flew up from the place it had landed on the floor and landed in his open hand. He let out a soft "oof" when a corner of it hit his belly.

"Get rid of it," the woman growled, standing suddenly behind him. She put her hands on his shoulders so that he would turn to face the fire. "Destroy it. It's for the best."

Destroy it!

Burn it!

Get rid of it!

Over and over the voices taunted, recognizing the threat he held in his hand. They knew what could happen if he kept it, they knew what would happen if he ever decided to use it. Why would he ever need it? Why would he ever use it? He was happy with his life, he was happy with his curse, so happy it may as well have been a blessing. He'd worked hard to get his hands on poison just as Nimue had told him. But like the box and the sword and the urn it was better he get his hands on it than someone else. Better for him to-

He reeled back, preparing to throw it into the fire when the Seer interrupted with a familiar vision, one he was nearly certain was a fantasy, until now…

It was Belle. A vision of Belle before him wearing unfamiliar white clothes, her face obscured by some kind of hat. And there was a feeling that swelled up inside of him with that image, a feeling of happiness after a long period of sadness, a feeling of completion. His mind raced with thoughts, thoughts of excitement for the future, thoughts of how lucky he was, of how impossible it all felt. In his head was a very specific thought, he was going to make her the happiest woman on the face of the earth. He would protect her and he'd do anything he had to do in order to accomplish that. She made him feel like a man again. He wanted to hold onto that.

When he came out of the vision, he was breathless. He could feel moisture on his cheek that betrayed him. He was crying. The voices were still loud, the Seer had drowned them out for a few moments, but now it wat that image that he carried of the woman sleeping downstairs that was capable of silencing them all. It was powerful. She was powerful. And as he held the book in his hand, he had a feeling that his future, every future, hung on this book.

The voices were upset with him, they screamed and yelled and hollered as they felt his resolve falter. But he hung onto the image of Belle, used his magic to hide the book within the depths of the fireplace mantle, and left it there.

Just in case…

[jmmauthoroftkwrtrilogy]

Making the Rounds: Four Chapters Left to Go...

I don’t want anyone to think I cut some chapters to hurry this thing along. I based it on how much more of Book II’s extended version would tell and on the ending of Book I. Didn’t make a dent, actually.

I think my father’s okay. My sister hasn’t called or anything. I might see if I can see him tomorrow. When I saw him last week, he looked okay. Frail, but he’s 86 years old. He was whining about how cold it was with my brother-in-law who took me. He loved Lee with the child in the pool. I showed him a photo of Lee in Bali. I said, “See, Dad. Lee’s wearing pants.” Dad said, “Finally.”

Nope Dad has not gotten over Calpernia. At that moment, whatever was wrong with my Dad didn’t exist because he still thinks Lee Pace takes selfies of himself in dresses. He remembered so much that I forgot, it’s hard to believe he’s got Alzheimer’s.

After all I’ve been through since the beginning of writing this book, it’s hard to believe I’ll be done with one of them in under two years. It’s Dad’s book when I once again post **END OF BOOK II**. Only this time, it is final--for the original, that is.

You know, I don’t understand why people think I’m competition. That’s weird. I don’t compete with people. I’ve been writing before most people were born. This is my first book, but not my first rodeo. I got my first copyright at age nine for my work on an opera. Script, story by me. Coretta Scott King put my poem in the library of the Martin Luther King, Jr. Center herself. In the library. I am on a card catalogue. I wrote an adaptation of “The Point” by Harry Nilsson that he liked when I was 15.

I write because I’ve never wanted to do anything else since I was two. I wrote loopy loops then and was mad when my mom couldn’t read the story. She just stared at me. I rolled my eyes and told her, “It says ‘once upon a time’.” She wasn’t listening--she was staring at the fact I made the loopy loops on the lines of the steno pad perfectly. That’s when she and my Dad began to teach me how to read and write. Just in time for me to know how to read in Preschool where I was thrown out for being able to read. They said the other kids would feel stupid. I don’t know why they thought that. They asked me to read to them. They thought it was cool. But adults can be just as silly as they think kids are.

I may have done a lot in writing but I don’t think about it too much because I always am ready to go to the next thing. I’m always the last to know if it was good or not. I just do it. All day, every day no matter what it is. A blog, TKWR, a poem, an idea for another “whatever”, a script. I don’t do it to compete. I do it because I love it. It is a passion I was born with. I’ve been compared to Maya Angelou in college and recently someone said me and Tolkien have the same soul. Shocking, considering I wanted to Shakespeare when I was eight.

I don’t do it for attention, I don’t do it to get more readers or whatever some think--I haven’t used one “fan art” to tell the story, though on the History page, I use credited stuff. I don’t compete because I don’t have to--every writer is different and see things differently. We’re supposed to be different. Shakespeare wasn’t trying to be Ben Jonson. Tolkien wasn’t trying to be C.S. Lewis. They just wrote what they wanted to. They became legends not because of how many people liked them. People thought Tolkien was a quack at first. It was the story he told that made him good (though vague at times).

Great writers are never popular. When I started this thing, I was one in a sea of Thranduils. If I had worried about that, I wouldn’t have The Mindy Project following me on Twitter--much less SIRI (I don’t get that one). No one is going to write the story I saw because it is not for them to see. It is for me to tell. If another writer sees something else, more power to them. You’re not supposed to see what I see and I’m not supposed to see what you see. That is the point of diversity in writing.

Granted, I learned Tolkien--still am; I am not done. But I decided that before Thranduil became what he has become in The Kingdom of the Woodland Realm Trilogy. I chose to do it this way. I didn’t want to write it any other way. The only part that isn’t “Tolkien-esque” is the point of view. Thranduil had a story to tell and he was going to tell it. I give Lee Pace credit for inspiring that. In three seconds in one scene in the middle of a film I saw for the first time in 2015 in the middle of a severe weather outbreak, I saw this story in his eyes.

I couldn’t get it out of my head, honestly. I could feel everything he felt after years of pain and anguish of loss. He wanted to tell it, so I let him. It grew from there.

I had to change my life from one genre to the next--from screenwriting to book. I had to drop what I had worked on for 17 years to take a risk on something I’ve never done because I thought I sucked at narrative (still do, I think). I didn’t have a choice--my father was in the hospital and I didn’t know what would happen.

Since then, I’ve finished this particular book once last July, and my father got better then got worse. My disease went into remission. I learned I had fans and Lee Pace got a new dog (Freddie). He’s kissed pandas and took photos of Scotland. I’ve made good on every deadline I’ve ever made (I used to not do that until Thranduil).

There are a thousand fandoms for the face that launched a thousand fan fictions. People get worked up if one gets more writers than other. That’s not your problem. Your job is to tell the story. Period. Bad writers worry about who’s reading. Good ones worry about what someone will be reading. Great ones just write the damn thing. I’m not saying I’m great; I’m saying if I worry about what people think of what I do, how will I get done what I started?

The other day, some woman found out what I was doing and the first thing that popped out was “The Estate will never approve it”. Never read a word. Just assuming something. Someone cut in and said, “Christopher Tolkien changed his position on that. He said if it follows his father’s work, he’d consider it.” That didn't sit well because another person said, “Ooo, I’ll beta read it.” Needless to say, I tried to nice and got called a bunch of names (not by that person)--everything from conceited to spammer and everything in between. It bothered me personally but this time I just decided I had some orcs to kill in Dol Guldur, so, See ya! 

(Meanwhile, Thranduil once again took over another site to the point now I have to write more of the episodes I do here over there. This one is a crowd pleaser).

Oh, Thranduil. You never disappoint in your ability to turn what once was a gamer page into the “Middle Earth/Jackson Set Antics starring Yours Truly” page. So much so, some “haters” started sharing memes and some started making some of their own. Who knew being nice worked? Okay, so, Thranduil just does what he’s going to do and no one is going to say otherwise.

Still, I never get invited to join anything--the lady has a page for fan fiction writers. I am rather hated among fan fiction writers. I don’t know why. I thought I was one of them. Did they get mad because one guy told me that even Tolkien was writing fan fiction (if you know the story of Beowulf). Someone is always telling the same story--just never the same way.

I didn’t even know I was writing fan fiction until someone brought it up. I almost stopped but Thranduil always gets his way. So I carried on--hoping to be done before my dad passed on. I think he’s hold on for one of two reasons--to see me finish Book II and to see if Lee Pace continues to wear pants. I didn’t start this thing to be considered canon. I just wrote the damn thing. I love writing it. I love the story. I never thought I get to the point where I couldn’t get out of finishing something because someone said it was pointless. On the contrary--the more the said it was pointless, the more I wanted to do it.

At some point, to make a living as a writer, you have to let go of getting approval and popularity. I am glad Tolkien’s family changed their stance, but I am not writing for them, either. I’m writing because I love doing it and I love this story. I worry about that being right more than anything because if I don’t, they won’t approve it and no one would read it. The story is my only focus. There will always be critics, but there will not always be readers. 

I don’t write anything I don’t love myself. If I love it, someone else will. It’s like if you love yourself, so will others. You don’t need them to love you, but it’s nice. It’s just my job to give them something to love. I know I am a woman of color writing about a 6′5″ elf king from Mirkwood that has a son named Legolas. Like a woman can’t write about a guy? I heard that so much, when a guy company on Instagram called me, “dude”, I just proved those people wrong.

I do it because I can. I can because I want to. I want to because someone said I couldn’t.

No one should have to compete for readers. People are going to read what they want to. I’m going to write what I want to. The world won’t stop spinning because some decided to knock off the competition. In fact, since that “rumor” thing, Thranduil’s readership took off.

Last count: 2000+ readers and nearly that many followers across all of it’s sites. You throw dirt you lose ground. It’s a reflection of my work--it’s a reflection of how petty someone is to do something so unnecessary, it was almost ridiculous. I’d like to thank them, though. Their “hating” on me got the Mythopoeic Society to suggest I dedicate my entire trilogy to J.R.R. Tolkien so it could be seen sooner. The first book (Saga of Thranduil) is always my dad’s, though. I think the children of Tolkien can appreciate celebrating a beloved father. 

Thanks to the “haters” I was forced to tell my sister everything--she said, “Well that makes my life seem dull”..oh, I’m sorry. Was my life getting started interrupt someone from liking your condo in St. Croix? People act like you can't like more than one thing--as if somehow they’ll be inconvenienced by someone saying, “I like this, too.” Tolkien and Lewis encouraged each other--they didn’t stab each other in the back. Guess what? They both are famous writers with beloved books. Some people like one more than the other, but more like them both.

Tolkien’s books didn’t make his friend C.S. Lewis’ books any less beloved.--J.

Image: ©2013. Warner Brothers Pictures. The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug. All Rights Reserved.

Image: ©2014. Warner Brothers Pictures. The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies. All Rights Reserved.

[happywitch416]

I wrote/write a lot of poetry. Like I have been in the process of transferring it on to the computer for two years and I am not done. I’ve been writing it since I was 13 years old and we are talking several hundred a year. A lot are about wings, they have a lot of meaning for me and that is a whole nother post. There is a lot about nature, I posted The Trees Did Weep on here, oh a while ago. Lol But what I love to write the most? Poems that tell a story. One day I will write my own Beowulf.

This is the oldest in this set I am doing. And slightly morbidly hilarious? I have no idea what 14 year old Erin was thinking or going through at the time. Lol

There was once was a boy named Fred

He liked to stay in bed

My friend Fred

Had a friend named Ned

Who was a red head

Both liked bread

Both their parents were dead

But every day they went to bed

With their bellies full of bread

I am an optimistic cynic. I know, right? The world will one day be a better place, right after its cleansed with fire. It makes sense, in my head. Combine that with fascination with both myself and mirrors.

Shining wide across thy face

I think you never frown

You have one for every pace

For every hardship that tries to tie you down

Oh yeah I’m jealous

Yeah I want your face

Your attitude

Oh wait

You are me

And I am you

Funny I forgot,

Strange what mirrors do to you

My love of mermaids is no secret, I grew up with Ariel after all and the original telling of the Little Mermaid. I wrote this at some point in my junior year.

Cry of the gulls,

Crash of the waves,

The rocky cliffs

Separate me from the sea.

Down I look into water blue green,

I see my homeland wild and free.

There in those waves, I used to play.

There on the rocks, I’d sing happy songs.

Thoughts of nothing except the sea.

Older I grew and less at home.

Tempest storms called me,

To sing the sailors in the depths to sleep.

Never had I thought that I would share their fate.

Now I sit on lonely cliff,

And watch the tide run in.

I hear gulls.

But I listen for crashing waves,

A mermaid lullaby.

I also wrote Demons Come With the Moon around the same time. Teenage Erin had a love hate relationship with the dark. A childhood of night terrors, being locked in the well house, several dark basements, and various other abuses led me to hate the monsters in the dark. It was a reoccurring theme. It still is but it’s a relationship that has changed.

The moon rises

Shadows of the forest darken

The birds silence

The beasts of night appear

Children go to bed afraid

Parents sharpen their reflexes

Their knives

Raids come at night

When all is still

They come when we least expect them

They attack so quickly, so quietly

Faster than a breath

Then a blink of an eye

In the morning all that’s left is telltale bodies

And other signs of blood shed.

There is nothing we can do

When demons come with the moon.

This poem doesn’t get a preamble. Its get a postscript. You’ll see.

A kingdom for a heart

That is what I’d trade

Wealth, riches, fame, power

I’d give it all away

Just for a heart

That will beat next to mine

That will love me

Through the ravages of time

That will stand by me

Hold me when I’m weak

And catch me when I fall

This one came with an actual author’s note from when I was 18. Because 18 year old Erin was a punk. I don’t want a fucking kingdom because I don’t want to fucking trade it for love. Love is stupid. I want a pony, a million dollars and to leave hillbilly hell. Also, rulers have to take care of the countryside or whatever and if they can’t be self-sufficient they are dead. I don’t have time to be someone else’s hero. I ride the dragons not kill them. Peasants. God. They might be worse than dating. I had just broken up with a long distance, long term boyfriend that was a craptastic should have never happened, my grandma hadn’t been dead six months and I hated all.

This one I wrote about the same time. I had just decide to stay home for college, stay in hillbilly hell, stay in the abusive family home with no friends and no job at the time.

Straining

Spreading

Stretching wings

Sensing freedom

The door is open

I can taste the breeze

Feel the freedom of open skies

But cant escape the cage

Beating wings against the opening

Fighting metal bars that bind me

Getting cold

So cold

Desperate

Afraid

There is no freedom for me

Can’t escape

One last effort

Spread my frozen wings

One last run

I hit

Wings shatter

Broken

Crazy

Caged birds don’t sing

This one I wrote not long after me and hubs got together, a story one not so emotionally charged. Lol it is called The Flying Dutchman, I suggest you look up the story.

Time weary sailor standing high above the sea

On an unforgiving cliff

Harshness of rock and earth

Is no comparision to rolling seas.

He watches waces crashing violently.

Sprays high as it meets the cliff.

Boiling ocean

Stormy skies

Dark greys and black

Lightning and wind

Harsh violent cold wind.

The sailor sees the glory of the storm.

The beauty of the sea

The greens and greys of the waves.

The joy in his face, a groom seeing his bride.

He is beyond earthly beauty,

Eyes as deep and blue as his sea.

Full of wisdom

And its sadness and joy.

He watches a ship,

Eagerly awaiting its entrance into the harbor.

For it is his last ship,

The one that will be his for eternity.

Ah. True Blue Sky. I wrote this and realized I was in love with my husband. I balled it up and threw it across the room and then went and rescued it. I told you wings were a thing.

I stretched my wings this morning

With more strength then ever

A weight of mine had drifted away

Making it easier to fly away

Up and up

Far and wide

Suddenly I fell

Falling and falling

And there you were

Holding me tight

Until I landed safely on the ground

My wings beat with my fluttering heart

You stayed with me

You loved me

You made realize I could fly

Without disappearing into that true blue sky

This one I wrote last year. Hubs was going through a really rough patch with his depression, anxiety, and ADHD. His fucking job at the time was the biggest issue. People talk about how they feel dealing with their own issues, which is important, as someone with their own mental illnesses that is so fucking important. But it is also important that the people who care for us, who love us also are cared for and loved. Because its just as hard on them sometimes.

Violent bitter words caught on my tongue;

I hold them tight as I back away,

As I run.

 Lost, broken, confused

What am I without you?

You are lost down paths I cannot follow.

Behind walls that against stones ring hollow.

No cracks, no matter how many I throw.

 There are no stars on this moonless night.

The end of this tunnel has no light.

I cannot see what I’m supposed to do.

I don’t know how to help you.

So I ask again and again

Let me in?

 Fix broken things with string,

With glue.

Tears wash down the drain in spirals.

We can dance.

We can laugh.

We can spiral too.

We can fix this.

We can fix us too.

 Angry words are better left unsaid,

Channel rage until emptied head.

Anger doesn’t build the bridges

Or push the carts

That these words need before they fall apart.

And my final one because I didn’t want to end with personal angst? That seemed rude. Lol This is from November of 2016. My writing has changed but it hasn’t. It’s hard for me to see the changes. I also have a bad habit of editing as I convert things. This got way longer then I planned. Sheesh. Just pick a few, Erin. Not the whole folder. (Not even close to the whole folder)

A wicked wind blows from the west

Ice and snow claws down the back

The trees shudder

The houses quake

As winter reminds all

It won’t be late