#It doesn't haunt my spirit quite as much

[theslayerbrother]

@pinkytoothlesso11 i feel Like Jim Should've went Back to beginning of the movie rather then Reset all the Fucking Series,

then We Will the Stricklarake Wedding and Claire Propose to Jim about a Wedding.

Strickler and Nomura Death felt Pointless. The only Death that have really big impact was Toby. and if Jim Would've gotten to beginning of the movie then he Would've Prevent everything that happened to them or at least tried too.

making toby the trollhunter didn't feel in character for Him and not much for toby, he was Special because he wasn't Special that what make him a good character at least imo.

however if both Jim and toby Would become trollhunters i could live with that but still.

So. I rewatched RoTT yesterday evening.

I know. How on earth did I cope with that? Why would I torture myself like that? It was because the first time I watched it I was purely feeling emotions of betrayal disappointment and anger. So I'm going to give a quick summary of points in the movie, both bad and good, and debunk common issues fans have with that ending. (Surprisingly it was not as bad as I remembered. Strickler sounded a little croaky but not so much and his design was in need of improving on his hair and eyes, but not much else.)

The kill count was insane. Me and my sister estimated that thousands of people, perhaps more, died. And Archie and Charlemagne are pretty much dead. The whole bridge collapsed.

Positives

Animation was mostly perfect. The fight scenes were beautiful. The expressions were subtle and more realistic.

Voice acting was faultless almost.

It DID have good character interactions, as well as emotional scenes. And the music was pretty amazing too.

Negatives

The fight scenes were monotonous after a while. There were too many and I felt a emotional disconnect after a while. It was a little boring compared to the series.

The only death they put significance on was Toby’s. The others were completely brushed over. And of course largely unnecessary. (writers were cruel to poor Strickler especially).

The script let it down. Some lines were good. But not many.

Okay. Onto the common complaints. Bare in mind I don't like RoTT, and do not consider it Canon.

Jim's decision was selfish. He should have dealt with his grief and not used the kronosphere.

No. It was the opposite. It was selfless. Jim loved Toby like a brother. He loved Strickler like a dad. Douxie lost the only remaining people in his life he loved literally. Nomura was a close friend. Sacrifice comes in different forms. Yes the deaths were stupid. But it showed what a strong drive love is. If it was always meant to be, it will be. Jim made a decision collectively, it was not his decision only. Blinky, Aja, so many agreed it was the correct decision. To save their loved ones.

Jim should not have given the amulet to Toby. Unbecoming showed what would happen if Jim wasn't the Trollhunter.

It was foreshadowed a LOT in Trollhunters. I'm in the middle of rewatching, and twice Toby has been first mistaken as the Trollhunter then called for the glory of Merlin. Toby was the one with the most compassion. He was the one who spared Chomsky he was the only one who called Angor’s name when he died the second time. And Jim is right there. He knows the future, he will not leave Toby. Unbecoming was a vision from Merlin. One that was pretty manipulating. Plus, Draal was the one who shouldn't be chosen.

RoTT makes the other series pointless. It undoes everything.

This is what I'm most pissed about. My mum said it would have made way more sense if the movie events happened before the series, so it didn't feel as much like a gut punch. But I've got a way around this. When Jim tells Strickler he'd like to introduce him to his mom, his expression goes from surprise to a warm smile. That's a weird reaction. It suggests Strickler might have an echo of remembrance. Which is how I think retrieving memories is an almost certain possibility. It happens with Claire too. Even Toby’s reaction to the amulet comes across as glee rather than surprise. This is the dude who thought it was a gaudy bauble in Trollhunters and dismissed it pretty quickly.

So yeah. I'm done. It was bad but not world ending. Please don't kill me. I was looking at it with zero emotion, pure logic. I still don't believe it's Canon. Not true to the characters. There's no feeling of timelessness I get with rewatching Trollhunters, no awe. It was a meh movie that had the potential to be great but fell flat on its face.

[lorelune]

regency au jing yuan how you are haunting me.

(continued here!)

a retired general who at the ripe age of thirty five has never taken a wife. never showed any interest in procuring a spouse nor does he entertain any attempts by the mamas of the ton to throw their eligible children at him. he is a polite scoundrel, kind-hearted in a way that makes those with half a mind question how someone with his demeanor could ever be the famed general who's strategies downed Shuhu during the Abundance Upheaval. he doesn't seem to care for his legacy, as much as he has cultivated one. he doesn't mind gossip, but doesn't entertain it much either.

you only meet him due to fortunate circumstances.

lord Luocha, a successful travelling merchant, pledged patronage to you sometime ago. he keeps you in a little cottage on the grounds of his manor where you're allowed to mostly do as you please as long as there's a new painting hung on the lord's wall every few months or so. the lord likes when you play too. he brings back new instruments for you to try, though he never expects mastery. he has an air of mystery to him that, despite all of the time you spend near him, keeps you from understanding him fully. you aren't one to pry about it either.

lord luocha invites jing yuan over to partake in fancy spirits from a country and city you can't ever hope to visit, let alone find on a map. you bring lord luocha your newest work-- (a meticulously completed oil painting. something more abstract, suited to the odd lonely and isolation you feel in your little, cozy cottage, despite all of the comforts you are afforded)-- and happen upon the pair.

lord luocha examines your newest work with pride, and shortly after introduces you. 'his patron' he calls you, but offers jing yuan no title. you--

(do not have one. it was stripped from you a long time ago. you think being an artist suits you better, anyways.)

jing yuan offers you his name, though you already know it. you recognize him based on the prattling of the girls and boys at the market. they swoon over his stature, fawn over his good deeds, and make note of his identifiable red hair ribbon. he has the same soft, sun-colored eyes that you had heard the eligible young of the ton giggle about.

you bow to him politely.

you have no reason to linger, but luocha calls you to anyways. perhaps he is lonely. perhaps you want him to be lonely, so it gives you a reason to stick closer to his side in the rare moments he is home for more than a day or two. the proximity is shared with jing yuan, who regards you with keen eyes and a lazy smile. the attention upon you feels weighted, important, like you're something special.

you savor it, however fleeting.

perhaps, however, you misunderstood jing yuan. or lord luocha's intentions.

because as jing yuan rises to take his leave and you bow once more, he catches your hand, brings it to his lips, and presses a kiss into the soft skin. you're sure you smell of linseed and yarrow oil. he lingers there for a moment before meeting your gaze. there's a light of mischief in them that sends your heart fluttering. your breath catches.

when jing yuan is out of the manor, lord luocha pats your shoulder gently, "quite the man, isn't he?"

"i suppose... he is."

"you may speak freely."

"i am," you mince, and shake your head. you must be careful, entertaining such fanciful thoughts. "he is... kind."

"and handsome."

"lord luocha," you barely keep yourself from whining. "please, do not tease me. or the poor man. from what i hear, he has enough to deal with."

"the mamas do chase after him like foxes to a hen," lord luocha chuckles and studies your painting once more with a curious tilt of his head. "he'll ask to see you again, i'm certain."

"and why do you say that?"

"general jing yuan has never taken the hand of a potential suitor."

your heart feels heavy and warm in your chest, burning. "my lord, you cannot possibly think that this single action indicates that the general will... call upon me? that is highly unorthodox and i don't believe that's... quite allowed."

"jing yuan has never cared for the dances of decorum." lord luocha guides you into your gardens. the peonies are in bloom, full and lush in the humidity of late spring. "and, for the record, i don't believe he'll simply call upon you. court, properly, certainly."

"you're bluffing."

"what reason do i have to lie?"

"to tease me, as you so enjoy doing," you huff.

lord luocha simply hums and pauses near a bush of lilacs. they're fragrant, at the peak of their season. the scent rolls over you.

"if i truly intended to tease you, i simply would abstain from telling you of jing yuan's interest and allow you to be terribly surprised when he arrives and formally asks for you and your time. consider this a warning. i'll walk you to the modiste tomorrow, hm?"

you want to squawk at him. your linen dresses and tunics are fine (albeit smeared and stained with paints and oils over the years. you rarely bother replacing them.)

you want to protest and pry more, but lord luocha strikes you silent when he breaks off a cluster of lilac and tucks it behind your ear. he leaves you with your thoughts, however tortuous. and, perhaps horribly, you find yourself believing him. perhaps the warm-eyed general really was charmed. perhaps, your dresses needed replacing and you should contact your perfumer friend for a fresh vial or two.

perhaps perhaps perhaps, you can still feel where his lips lingered on your skin, like a brand. you never thought you could ache for burning, but in the gardens, you find yourself clutching your hand to your chest, craving the lick of the his sun's heat once more.

[luveline]

oK HALLOWEEN REQUESTS?! BET!!! GET THIS, STEVE WHO KEEPS HEARING SCARY NOISES IN HIS HOUSE AND HE CALLS READER (his gf) TO BE LIKE DUDE THERES A FUCKING GHOST and it’s a cat who got stuck in his attic or something 🥹

ty for requesting ♡ you and steve go ghost hunting. fem, 1.1k

Steve's waiting for you. Front door open, your boyfriend stands in his pyjamas with a leather jacket thrown over the top, hair ruffled but adorable, one pant leg tucked into his sock and the other dragging on the floor.

"Planning on a quick getaway?" you tease. 

Steve hangs his head. "Whatever, just kiss me." 

You love him even if you tease, using the door jam for extra height as you tip your head back to kiss him. With the way he kisses you can't be expected to abstain, hot little crescent moons of touch pressed softly to the seam of your lips, like the very beginning of a heavier kiss. It distracts you, and you forget why you're there. 

"'M being haunted," he says against your mouth. 

"Right," you remember. "You sounded hysterical on the phone. I thought maybe you'd been spiked." He rolls his eyes. "Hey, it happened once before!" 

"Just come listen. It's a weird thumping." 

"Maybe there's a guy living up there," you suggest, taking your shoes off by the door. 

Steve takes your hand gently, his words much less coddling, "Sure, there's a man living in my attic. He comes out when I sleep." 

"Well, don't scare yourself." 

"It's fucking weird. It's definitely a spirit." 

"Like that vampire you saw last Christmas." 

Steve leads you upstairs to his room, where he encourages you to get comfortable. You take off your jacket and your bag. You'd brought pyjamas, figuring Steve's phone call to be an invitation rather than a real ghost hunt, but you'll save them for afterwards. He looks comfortable, and he smells nice as you drop your face into his arm. 

"Listen," he says, bringing the forearm of the arm you're snuggling up to stroke whatever skin of yours he can reach, "it'll happen again. It's constant." 

"It's maybe a burst pipe." 

He shushes you, not unkindly. "Just listen." 

On the phone, he'd been dramatic enough that you assumed this was a cute ploy to see you. You'd felt quite flattered —Steve doesn't seem to realise how much of a catch he is, so his flirting is over the top, and it really keeps the crush alive even while you're dating. There's a fucking ghost, dude, you need to come over right now. 

Really? I thought your parents bought the house new? 

Baby! Don't make me beg. And don't make me die alone. 

You tilt your head to one side and listen hard for his promised ghost, an excuse to be in Steve's space more than anything. After a few dull seconds of silence, you turn forward and offer him a smirk. "You don't have to make stuff up for me to come over. I would've come to see you for no reason." 

"And while I appreciate that," he says, his hand moving to your face, your cheek to his palm, "there's really, actually a ghost." 

You look up in tandem as a strange sound echoes from above Steve's bedroom. It can't be a person, the weight doesn't shift loud nor close enough for footsteps, only groans in one place before creaking further toward the door. 

"Oh," you say. Steve squeezes your cheek. 

To get into Steve's attic you have to build a precarious ledge. He doesn't have a stepladder and the attic itself has no fold down, nor a ring pulley. "We don't go in there, the house is big enough already," he explains, lugging his TV stand under the attic opening. "This is barely tall enough to get up there." 

"Maybe you can boost me?" you suggest, though the idea of being that far up doesn't sound enticing. 

"No way, it's dark up there. If one of us is going to be killed by a ghost, it'll be me." He kisses your cheek and hops up onto the stand with impressive dexterity. You grit your teeth. "And besides, you don't like heights." 

"Steve, is this a bad idea? What if it's an owl? It'll attack you." 

"It's not an owl," —he grabs at the attic tile and pushes it in, grunting as he pulls the weight of his upper half inside with it— "it's a ghost, beautiful." His legs disappear into the attic. You can hardly see him. "We should've found a flashlight." 

"I can go look?" 

"I'll be fine, probably."

"Stay away from the hole! If you fall and break your back I'll have to work two jobs and someone else will have to give you sponge baths–" 

"Why do you actually sound worried? I'm not going to fa– Holy fuck!"

A huge thunk. You huff out a worried exhale, asking, "Are you okay? Stevie?" as you climb onto the TV stand and peer into the dark attic. 

"I'm okay! I'm gonna come back, don't flinch." His face appears in the opening. "I tripped over something. It's weird, you won't believe me, but the floor is wet in here. There must be a leak in the roof."

"Be careful, Steve, please," you murmur. 

Steve leans down in the gap to kiss your frown. "Sorry. I'm being careful. Could you bring me some towels? I'm gonna clean this up." 

You throw him a couple of towels from his laundry room like you're shooting shoddy hoops, laughing at his worse catching. The floor moans as he cleans, but there doesn't seem to be any ghost now that he's investigating. In fact, the house is very, very quiet. 

"Did you hear that?" Steve asks. 

You shiver. "Don't mess around!" you call, though you're not mad. "You're giving me goosebumps." 

Steve goes quiet for a little while. You chew on your lip, consider standing on the TV stand again to climb in after him, but ultimately stand frozen under the gap, waiting. 

He says something too quiet to hear. 

"What?" you ask. 

Your response comes unexpectedly, a little white face held by two bigger hands from the ceiling, and a frankly earth-shattering yowl. 

"Look! It's a cat!" 

"I can see." 

"Take him, take him!" 

You take the cat even as he hisses at you, holding his claws as far from you as you can manage. Steve huffs and puffs as he slides his way down, the TV stand wobbling ever so slightly as he closes the attic and hops down onto the floor. 

"He's aggressive," you say, wincing as the cat hisses again. "How big was the leak? I mean, how did he get up there?" 

"I told you already," Steve says, attempting to pet the cat and dodging a well-aimed claw, "he's a ghost." 

"Very funny, H. Now, um, what are we gonna do with him?" 

"...I was hoping you'd know." 

"I guess you have a pet now. Congrats, babe." 

[srrynrk]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ Prologue: The (petty) curse ! . . . ( 西村力 . 양정원 )

01. Style 운명 . series 02. CONTAINS: Female reader, Kids being dumb, poor writing ! 03. wc ! 738 04. M.list

December, 23rd, 1927

"This way!" Young Jungwon was always adventurous, oftentimes, leaving his friends to chase after him, leading them to danger in the sense of fun, even if it meant trespassing on a creepy 'cursed' property. "I don't know Jungwon... This place looks sketchy" 14-year-old Name, a year younger than Jungwon and the same age as Riki, was much less brave than the two boys. Of course, she always followed along but that doesn't mean she wasn't scared.

"Here, hold my hand" Jungwon reached for her hand, rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles to comfort her; Riki retracted his hand aiming for hers, beaten by Jungwon's yet again. Riki knew Jungwon liked her, and he was fine with it as long as she liked him back and it didn't ruin the friendship between you three. He just wished Jungwon would stop stealing her away. She was still his friend, and he still had the right to be possessive... That doesn't mean he was into her.

"I think it's up here..." Jungwon pulled Name up the creaking stairs onto the 'haunted' level of the building (According to the kids at the school anyway) Riki followed quickly behind As they approached the slightly open, raggedy brown door, everyone's steps started getting slower and even lighter, as if stepping too hard would alert some evil spirit in the house. "Uh, Riki, why don't you go first?" Jungwon turned around and tried to convince the younger to open the door first, but his brave, "I'll protect you" persona quickly dissipated. "No, it was your idea in the first place!" Jungwon sighs, "Pleaseeee?" Jungwon begged, but Riki wasn't in the mood for getting cursed so he denied it again "I'll go" Name was scared but even more annoyed by the constant bickering. "No, what if you get hurt?" Riki stated "Oh come on, you don't actually think it's haunted do you?..." The boys looked at each other, waiting for each other to reply. "Oh my god" Name walked towards the door and pushed it open, peering inside slowly. "There's nothing in here," Name looked back, seeing the boys practically holding each other in fear, "You guys are so dramatic..."

Name walks in, checking the room every time she takes a step; The boys follow right behind her The room was dark, it was dark and eerie. Walking towards the supposedly 'haunted closet' they had heard about around town, Name trips over a black box that blends in with the darkness. As she stumbles to the ground, the box releases a pungent odor. It smelt like sulfur, and it smelt like what they imagined death would smell like. Jungwon quickly grabbed the box and shut it, putting it on a nearby shelf, holding his nose in the process "Eugh what the hell was that?" He questioned in disgust "I don't know but whatever it was burnt my nose hairs off.. euh" Riki followed up, quite dramatically. Name gets back up and starts walking towards the closet once again, "It was probably old food the owner left" "You really think it would smell like death, though?" Name turns and looks at Jungwon as if he were stupid. "How would you know what death smells like, Jungwon?" He simply shrugs his shoulders

Name rolled her eyes and turned to the closet, her hands reaching for the handle, she slowly started to open the closet when randomly the same box fell off the shelf, followed by a high-pitched woman's screech.

Riki grabbed Name's hand and started running as Jungwon followed behind The three got outside, falling onto the grass as they were exhausted and tired, slowly catching their breaths "What the hell was that?!" Name questioned All looking at each other-- the boys shrugged, laying back down on the grass to ponder as their hearts slowed.

Later that night, when the kids were lying in their beds, warm and still slightly shaken up from the previous situation, they couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. Riki thought it was because he was tired and worn out, and Name didn't think much of it all, but Jungwon, Jungwon couldn't shake the idea that maybe it was the box.

"Was it the box that Name tripped over?" He thought to himself "I mean, why else would it smell like that if it wasn't full of some kinda curse?" "Or maybe I'm just overthinking it... I mean, it's probably nothing... right?"

@taiyaakii

Note: I apologize if this isn't good, I'm not super great at proper story telling >.<

Taglist: @sol3chu

[inhuman-obey-me]

Congrats on 🎉4000🎉 followers, you honestly deserve it. I love reading all your work. Can I request 👻 + Belphegor, with MC involved?

Two requests for Belphie with this prompt, wow! Thank you both for your compliments and the request!!

"I'm the creature that haunts your mind." - Belphegor/MC

cw: references to Lesson 16

You weren't always scared of the dark.

The thought has been weighing heavily on Belphegor's mind recently. It comes to him again as he watches you startle backwards at the innocent sight of a door unexpectedly ajar.

You were bold, for a human. You got used to the Devildom's most unsettling quirks with surprising speed. You got mad at him the first time he lied to you, which he'd shrugged off. But you had never, ever been scared of him.

You should have been.

It's your own fault, he tries to tell himself. I warned you. I told you that it was your fault for believing me in the first place.

That's what he tries to tell himself, but he can't.

He catches you as you trip backwards -- "Shouldn't you know to watch your step around here by now?" he teases, trying to raise your spirits. You laugh back with embarrassment, masking the momentary freeze as clumsiness.

It's enough to fool his brothers. But Belphie always was the more perceptive one.

You weren't always scared of the dark -- but you are now, and it's his fault, and he knows it.

Night falls, and he can't sleep, and that's a real problem for the Avatar of Sloth. You aren't sleeping either, he's pretty sure -- he'd know if you were. But it's been weeks now, and each night, he doesn't feel you relax into sleep so much as he senses you succumbing to exhaustion. So when he comes knocking on your door, he's fairly confident you'll answer.

"Oh, hi Belphie," you say with forced cheerfulness as you open up. "Is something the matter? It's late, it's not like you to be up still."

"I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd come see if you were still awake. Although, I guess you should have been sleeping too, shouldn't you?" He gives you an equally forced smile, though he makes his look quite a bit more natural. Well, he's a practiced liar, after all, isn't he? You should know that well enough now.

"Oh, I-I um, I guess so. Yeah, I probably should be, huh? But I just felt like staying up tonight. You know, like...I was reading a scary story before bed, and now I'm too scared to go to sleep. That's what I get, I guess!" you laugh, sweeping away the truth behind evasive sheepishness again.

No, it's my fault. I'm the creature that haunts your mind, his mind screams at him. But he can't say that out loud to you, not when you're trying to keep up such a brave face. What can he say, though? What can he possibly say to make it better? As much as he wishes he could, he can't take it back. He can't fix this. There's only one thing he can say, and it won't fix anything for you.

Still, he should say it anyway, right?

"I'm sorry."

He squeezes you in a hug, not too tight but firm enough to reassure him that you're there -- that you're warm and solid, and that the biggest mistake of his life really hadn't cost you yours. He had grown to like you during those months he'd been shut up in the attic, honestly he really had! But he'd been so blinded by rage and grief that he killed you!

But he doesn't say any of this, so you just blink at him in confusion from within his embrace, softly patting his back in a daze. "Um...you don't need to be sorry that I read something scary, you know...?"

"Not for that. I'm sorry for what I did to you. I'm sorry that you're scared now. I'm sorry that sorry doesn't make it go away. I'm sorry that I'm the reason you can't sleep anymore. I'm just so, so sorry."

You laugh softly against his ear, partly out of surprise but sweet as syrup all the same, and you squeeze him gently back and give him a light peck on the cheek. "I know. That's the reason you can't sleep either, right? It's okay, we can fall asleep together. I think I'll be able to if you're next to me. I love you. I forgive you."

[idk-ask-me-yesterday]

Can you make Anthony Lockwood where the reader is a spirit who suddenly appear inside on their house and only Lucy can see her and Lockwood and George don't know about and actually the reader is Lockwood girlfriend who is in coma and Lucy tell them about the reader and Lockwood just found out that reader is with him all the time and help the reader to go back to her body.i am sorry about my English but I hope you can make it

Haunted pt.1

Summary: A day Lucy believed would be completely uneventful proved to be anything but when she found her room inhabited by another. A girl her age, who doesn't look quite right?

Puppets: Anthony lockwood x f!reader

Word count: 2,962

Warnings: none

Elle yaps: im so sorry about how long this took me, all the Christmas stuff happened and i got food poisoning right after :/ ive made this a multiple part-er to get me back into the groove of writing, hope you don't mind!

Slightly proofread. No use of Y/N

Lucy began her day following her usual morning routine: she would gently stir from sleep as sunlight filtered through her curtains, take her time getting dressed in her favorite comfortable clothes, and make her way downstairs to enjoy a leisurely breakfast accompanied by a steaming cup of her preferred morning tea. With the entire week moving at an unusually slow pace, her schedule was remarkably empty of pressing commitments or urgent tasks. To make productive use of her free time, she made the decision to engage in some much-needed combat practice, descending the stairs to the basement where she could focus on honing her skills with her new rapier. The day had been progressing in an entirely unremarkable fashion, perhaps even verging on monotonous—that was, until the moment she pushed open the door to her bedroom and found herself face-to-face with an unfamiliar girl who was inexplicably standing in the middle of her bedroom.

Lucy froze in place, her heart pounding as she wrestled with an immediate dilemma - should she attempt to engage the mysterious intruder in conversation, or should she call out for Lockwood and George to come to her aid? Her mind raced through these options as she stood motionless in the doorway. The unexpected visitor appeared to be a young woman approximately Lucy's own age, with a peculiar familiarity about her that lucy simply couldn't place her finger on. When the strange girl finally pivoted to face Lucy directly, her expression displayed an almost amusing mixture of surprise and bewilderment, as though she herself hadn't expected to be perceived by anyone in the room, let alone its rightful occupant.

When the strange girl finally spoke, her voice emerged as a delicate whisper that cracked and wavered, betraying a profound disuse that suggested she hadn't engaged in conversation for an extraordinarily long time. The words that escaped her lips carried both uncertainty and astonishment as she asked, her tone tinged with equal parts hope and disbelief, "You can see me?"

Lucy's breath caught in her throat at the raw vulnerability that resonated through the girl's trembling question. The desperate yearning for connection and recognition in her voice stirred something deep within Lucy's chest, a mixture of compassion and unease that she couldn't quite shake. There was something profoundly unsettling about the way the stranger seemed to flicker and waver in the gentle morning light streaming through the windows, as if she weren't quite solid - her edges appearing to blur and shift with each subtle movement, like a reflection in disturbed water. The sight sent an involuntary shiver down Lucy's spine, despite the warmth of the sun-filled room.

Drawing upon her years of training and experience with the supernatural, Lucy's instincts kicked in, and she found herself automatically reaching for the salt-bomb secured at her belt. Yet something made her hesitate - perhaps it was the raw emotion in the girl's voice, or the way she seemed more lost than malevolent. With practiced caution, Lucy took a single step forward, her voice steady as she replied, "Yes, I can see you. Who are you, and why are you in my room?"

"Your... your room?" the girl asked softly, her voice trembling with a mixture of confusion and what seemed like deep emotional pain, as if the very concept of the space belonging to someone else caused her genuine distress. The words appeared to catch in her throat, and her expression shifted to one of profound disorientation, as if struggling to reconcile some internal conflict that Lucy couldn't quite understand.

Her gaze wandered deliberately across every corner of the room, lingering on each piece of furniture and decoration with an expression of deep, haunting recognition. Her eyes traced the patterns of shadows and light as if following the ghostly outlines of memories, each object in the space seeming to hold fragments of a past life that danced just beyond her grasp. The dresser, the window seat, the old wooden floorboards - every element appeared to evoke some profound emotional response that she struggled to fully comprehend or articulate. When she finally found her voice again, it emerged as barely more than a tremulous whisper, heavy with the weight of lost time and faded memories, "This... this used to be my room. before."

Lucy's mind raced frantically as she processed this extraordinary revelation, her years of rigorous training as a professional agent engaging in an internal struggle with the unexpected and powerful wave of sympathy that suddenly washed over her. The weight of her professional experience urged caution and skepticism, while her emotional instincts responded to the raw authenticity of the moment. The girl's words carried such profound and unmistakable loss, such genuine confusion and yearning, that it seemed almost impossible to dismiss them as mere spectral manipulation or supernatural deception. The depth of emotion in her voice, the way she connected with the space - it all spoke to something far more complex than typical ghostly behavior. Still, Lucy maintained her cautious stance, her fingers hovering near her equipment, knowing all too well from countless encounters and bitter experience how even the most seemingly innocent supernatural encounters could transform into dangerous situations in the blink of an eye. Years of training had taught her that appearances could be deceiving, and that compassion, while admirable, needed to be tempered with vigilance.

Suddenly, a powerful realization struck Lucy like a bolt of lightning, illuminating the mysterious connection that had been nagging at the edges of her consciousness. The strange girl's features, though ethereal and faded now, matched perfectly with an image that had been burned into Lucy's memory from months ago. "I know who you are," Lucy breathed out, her voice barely above a whisper, "You're the girl from Lockwood's photograph." The memory surfaced with crystal clarity - during one of the rare occasions when Lucy had ventured into Lockwood's private bedroom, rushing to wake him for an early morning case, her attention had been caught by a photograph prominently displayed on his nightstand. It was an intimate glimpse into what seemed like another lifetime - the same girl who now stood before her as a spectral presence, but in the photograph she had been vibrantly alive, her face lit up with an infectious smile that suggested complete freedom from worry or care. The contrast between that captured moment of joy and the current apparition before her was stark and heartbreaking.

In the photograph, she had been standing in this very room, though it had looked quite different then - filled with the vibrant touches of her own personality and life. Lucy found herself wondering about the story behind this mysterious girl's connection to Lockwood, and what tragic circumstances had led to her current spectral state. The weight of these questions hung heavy in the air between them as Lucy carefully considered her next move.

The girl's ghostly form seemed to flicker more intensely now, as if the recognition of her connection to Lockwood had disturbed something deep within her spectral essence. Lucy noticed how the temperature in the room had dropped significantly, and she could see her own breath forming small clouds in the increasingly chilly air. With growing concern, she observed how the ghost's previously lost expression was slowly transforming into something more focused and intense, though whether this change signaled danger or breakthrough remained unclear.

"We were on a case together, Anthony and I," the ghost began, her voice carrying traces of both nostalgia and deep sadness. "Most of the details are lost to me now, like scattered fragments of a dream that slip away upon waking. But there's one moment that remains crystal clear in my memory - that terrible sensation of emptiness as I plummeted from the third story window. I can still feel the cold night air rushing past me, hear the whistle of the wind in my ears, and experience that endless moment of suspended time before..." The ghost's voice trailed off as she sighed softly, the weight of the memory seeming to make her form flicker and fade slightly.

"You're not like any other ghost I've encountered before," Lucy whispered thoughtfully, her voice carrying a mixture of professional assessment and genuine wonder. The words emerged slowly and deliberately as she carefully considered the unique nature of this particular spectral visitor. Unlike the typically aggressive or disoriented spirits she regularly encountered in her line of work, this apparition displayed a remarkable level of self-awareness and emotional complexity. Her coherence and depth of memory seemed to defy everything Lucy had learned about ghost behavior during her years as an agent. The ghost's ability to maintain such a clear sense of identity and to articulate her experiences with such vivid detail was unprecedented in Lucy's extensive experience dealing with supernatural entities. This wasn't the confused, echoing presence of a typical ghost, but something far more intricate and thought-provoking - a revelation that both fascinated and unsettled Lucy as she continued to observe the apparition before her.

"The doctors told Anthony I'm not actually dead, though being in this state certainly makes it feel that way," the girl explained, her voice carrying a mix of confusion and resignation. "They say I'm trapped in some kind of coma, suspended between life and death. The strangest part is that I have no idea where my physical body is being kept - which hospital, which room, or even which city. I just drift here, anchored to this place by memories, while my body lies somewhere unknown, neither fully alive nor truly dead."

Lucy found herself grappling with the profound implications of this extraordinary revelation, her mind racing to reconcile this unprecedented situation with her extensive training and experience. The very concept of someone existing in this mysterious intermediate state - neither fully present in the world of the living nor completely crossed over into death - fundamentally challenged every principle and understanding she had developed about ghosts and the supernatural realm. This wasn't just another haunting or spiritual manifestation; it represented an entirely new category of paranormal phenomenon that defied conventional classification. As she carefully processed this information, weighing its significance against her years of accumulated knowledge, a determined glint appeared in her eye, accompanied by a surge of professional curiosity and human compassion. The unique circumstances of this case presented both an intellectual puzzle and a moral imperative - perhaps, she thought with growing conviction, there existed a way to help this lost soul navigate back to her physical form, to bridge the inexplicable gap between her spectral presence and her dormant body.

Lucy's gaze drifted to the window where the afternoon sun was streaming in, and a plan began to take shape in her mind. If there was even the slightest chance of tracking down this girl's physical body and reuniting her consciousness with it, Lucy knew she had to try. After all, this was precisely the kind of unique challenge that Lockwood & Co. had built their reputation on - taking on the cases that others deemed impossible or incomprehensible.

With renewed determination, Lucy rose from her contemplative position by the window and strode purposefully toward her desk, her footsteps echoing softly against the wooden floorboards. She pulled out her leather-bound notebook from the top drawer, its worn edges testament to countless previous investigations, and settled into her chair with practiced efficiency. Opening to a fresh page, she began methodically jotting down everything she knew about the mysterious girl's case - physical descriptions, temporal details, emotional observations, and possible connections to Lockwood's past - determined to piece together this unprecedented supernatural puzzle. The familiar scratch of pen against paper filled the room as she worked, her hand moving swiftly across the pages as she documented every potentially relevant detail, from the ghost's unusual level of awareness to the peculiar circumstances of her suspended state between life and death. From her position near the bedroom door, the ghost watched Lucy's focused efforts with a complex mixture of emotions playing across her translucent features - curiosity about this methodical approach to her situation, cautious hope that this determined young agent might actually be able to help her, and a touching vulnerability that seemed to make her spectral form flicker in response to each new line of notes being written.

Suddenly, the ghost girl inhaled sharply, the sound cutting through the comfortable silence that had settled over the room like a delicate veil. Her ethereal form seemed to flicker more intensely than before, and a look of urgent distress crossed her translucent features. "I need to go," she announced with unexpected urgency, her voice carrying notes of both reluctance and necessity. The words seemed to echo slightly in the still air of the bedroom, hanging between them with an almost tangible weight that spoke of unfinished business and untold stories.

Lucy felt an inexplicable tug at her heart as she watched the spectral form begin to fade, her form dissolving like morning mist in sunlight. The sight stirred a complex mixture of emotions within her - professional curiosity intermingled with a deeply personal concern for this unusual spirit who had shared such intimate revelations. "Wait," she called out softly, her carefully maintained professional demeanor momentarily giving way to genuine concern and an almost desperate desire to maintain this extraordinary connection, "Will you come back?"

The ghost's response floated through the air like autumn leaves on a gentle breeze, carried on the last wisps of her fading presence. Her voice, though barely more substantial than a whisper, held an unmistakable note of certainty and what might have been affection: "I always do." The words seemed to linger in the air even as their speaker disappeared entirely, leaving behind only the faintest trace of supernatural energy that made the hairs on Lucy's arms stand on end.

Not a moment after the spectral figure had completely faded from view, the sharp sound of knuckles against wood broke through the lingering atmosphere of otherworldly encounter. A familiar voice called through her bedroom door, tinged with unmistakable concern: "Luce? you alright in there? i heard you talking"

Lucy's heart skipped a beat at the sound of Lockwood's voice, her mind still whirling with the implications of the extraordinary encounter she'd just experienced. Her pulse quickened as she considered the weight of what had just transpired in this very room - a paranormal encounter unlike any she'd documented in her years as an agent. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she glanced around the now-empty room, noting how quickly it had returned to its normal temperature, as if the supernatural presence had never been there at all. The familiar furnishings and mundane shadows seemed almost surreal after such an otherworldly interaction. She knew she would have to make a decision, one that carried significant consequences for both her professional relationships and personal loyalties: whether to share this incredible discovery with her colleagues immediately, potentially disrupting the delicate dynamics of their team, or keep it to herself until she better understood the mysterious girl's connection to Lockwood and the profound implications it might have for everyone involved.

Her hand hovered uncertainly over the doorknob, fingers trembling slightly as she felt Lockwood's continued presence on the other side of the door, patiently waiting for her response. The weight of this extraordinary secret pressed heavily against her chest, creating an almost physical sensation of pressure that made it difficult to breathe normally. This moment of decision challenged her long-held commitment to complete transparency with her closest friend and colleague, a principle that had been a cornerstone of their professional relationship and personal bond. Her mind raced through potential consequences, imagining various scenarios of revelation and concealment, each path seeming to branch into countless possible outcomes. After what felt like an eternity of internal struggle, though it was merely moments, she made her decision - a choice that carried with it the heavy knowledge that whatever path she chose would fundamentally and irrevocably alter the delicate balance of trust, understanding, and unspoken expectations that had defined their relationship since the beginning of their partnership.

Taking a steadying breath, Lucy called out with carefully measured casualness, "Everything's fine - just talking to myself while working through some case notes." The response felt hollow in her throat, the weight of concealment already settling uncomfortably in her chest. As she finally turned the doorknob, Lucy silently promised herself that she would find the right moment to share this discovery - but only after she had gathered more information about this mysterious connection between the ghost and her closest friend.

Her fingers traced absently over the leather cover of her notebook as she settled onto her bed, mind churning with questions about the extraordinary encounter. The weight of this new secret felt both exhilarating and burdensome, like a delicate glass orb she needed to protect. Through her window, she could see the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across Portland Row, marking the beginning of what she knew would be a long night of careful contemplation and strategic planning.

She ended up staying awake through the entire night, moving quietly down to the kitchen after everyone else had retired to their beds. In the dim light of the kitchen, she meticulously poured over her detailed notes, occasionally reaching for comfort in the form of shortbread biscuits from the tin (admittedly helping herself to far more than just one or two). The hours slipped by unnoticed as she remained absorbed in her work, her tea growing cold beside her as she scribbled additional observations in the margins of her journal. However, this extended late-night research session proved to be an unfortunate decision - she was startled awake by the sharp sound of shattering porcelain, only to find Lockwood standing above her with her journal clasped firmly in his hands, fragments of her fallen teacup scattered across the kitchen floor.

[yingleis]

zyz and ying lei meeting privately as the only two known demons in the demon-hunting bureau 👀 how would they establish their dynamics??? im so against their basically non-existence canon interactions. they definitely had a talk and im wondering if you would be able to expand on their dynamic ❤️❤️ (wastedwaterpotential is my more active cdrama sideblog and am a big fan 🥺)

(Episode 11 rewrite: "Come with us to Kunlun" scene but with ZYZ and YL instead)

Ying Lei doesn't know what to make of it– this ragtag group of humans, a Da Yao, and the reincarnation of the Baize goddess working together to repair the Baize seal.

(But it was more human interaction than he'd gotten in the last couple of years, so he would take it).

Only now, it seemed that their investigations were leading them to Mount Kunlun, and Ying Lei wasn't so sure that he was ready to return yet, as much as he wanted to offer his help with guiding them up the mountain.

It is that indecision that kept him awake, knowing that he didn't have much time left to decide, and Ying Lei finds himself in the kitchen of the Demon Hunting Bureau once again at the hour of Yin, attempting his hand at Osmanthus cakes.

The first batch didn't quite smell right, and so he starts preparing a second, wondering if he should have added another spoon of osmanthus syrup after all.

It is then that Zhao Yuanzhou wanders into the kitchen, perches on the stool Ying Lei had set out in the kitchen for Bai Jiu, and nonchalantly swipes a piece from the pile that he'd been working on.

“Hey–” Ying Lei protests half-heartedly. That had been one of the nicer looking pieces, and he'd been reserving it for Bai Jiu, only for it to get stolen by a heartless, greedy Da Yao just like that!

“Not bad, it almost looks like the ones on the streets,” Zhao Yuanzhou remarks, ignoring Ying Lei’s dirty looks as he chews on the cake.

“Of course!” Ying Lei huffs. Even if he could not taste, he did have his other senses– and what chef would he be, if he couldn't even mimic the appearance of human food?

But no, surely the Da Yao Zhu Yan wouldn't just come in here to steal and compliment his food.

“What is it?”

“Hm?”

“Surely you're not just here for food, you don't even eat!”

“I do eat,” Zhao Yuanzhou corrects, feigning indignance. “I feed on people's malicious intent.”

Ying Lei sighs. If Da Yao wouldn't say it outright, then he would. “You guys are going to Mount Kunlun tomorrow, aren't you?”

Zhao Yuanzhou nods, expression expectant.

“...I'm staying here. Besides, doesn’t the Demon Hunting Bureau need a chef?” Ying Lei says. If they sent Zhao Yuanzhou to pressure him into going– well. He respected the demon, but he was adamant about his choice to stay in the mortal realm.

“Oh?” Zhao Yuanzhou raises a brow, sneaking another piece into his mouth. “A little mountain god who would rather be a chef amongst humans. Most would kill to have your status in the Wilderness, you know.”

“Stop that,” Ying Lei frowns, moving the dish away from the monkey’s greedy hands with a warning glare.

There's a pause, a stalemate where neither of them speak, unwilling to budge from their stance. It was unlike Zhao Yuanzhou to be so stubborn, from what Ying Lei has observed since he joined the Demon Hunting Bureau.

The other demon was usually rather easygoing, unwilling to interfere with their personal affairs– unless it really mattered, such as how he tied Pei didi’s soul to the puppet– but as much as Ying Lei thought, he couldn't see why it would matter to the Da Yao whether he went along to Mount Kunlun.

Sure, they may encounter fierce spirits on the way there, but they were nothing their group couldn't face without him tagging along.

(And Ying Lei does feel guilty for not taking this chance to visit his grandfather– it's the guilt that had been eating at him, the little nagging voice keeping him awake at night– it was why he was haunting the kitchens at this hour of the night, after all.

But a part of him is afraid,

Afraid that if he returned he wouldn't be able to leave for the mortal realm again without regrets).

Zhao Yuanzhou is still looking at him with that unnerving, unblinking stare, a silent challenge to continue this impasse of theirs until the others woke, and Ying Lei caves with a sigh.

“I don't want to be a mountain god,” he admits, sneaking a glance at Zhao Yuanzhou, wondering if the Da Yao would smite him for that treacherous confession.

But he says nothing, expression as impassive and unreadable as ever, so Ying Lei continues. He'd made his own bed and he would lie in it. “I never understood how my grandfather and the other mountain gods could be so willing to remain in the Wilderness, in that lonely and desolate place for so long, compared to the lively and ever changing mortal realm.”

The silence after his confession stretches, unnervingly so, and Ying Lei returns to his second batch of cake batter, preparing the mixture for lack of anything better to do.

He doesn't realise just how long the silece had stretched until Zhao Yuanzhou lets out a little chuckle, startling him from the rhythm he'd gotten into while kneading the dough.

“I think I once said that to the old man too…” he murmurs, clearly lost in a memory of his.

“Huh?”

“Ying Zhao wouldn't force you to be a mountain god and you know that,” Zhao Yuanzhou says, expression unexpectedly grave as he fixes his eyes on Ying Lei.

I'll respect your choice. You can be a mountain god, or an ordinary person if you want.

“I know.” Ying Lei mutters, staring at his flour covered hands.

He hears the telltale scrape of the stool as Zhao Yuanzhou gets up, deftly swiping another piece of cake from his pile as he leaves him with a jaunty, “I'd like to see the expression on that old man’s face when I bring his prodigal grandson back.”

(a/n: in retrospect, I should've tried to add in a part where Zhao Yuanzhou tries to pull seniority rank like Wen Xiao XD "call me uncle!")

[still accepting fic requests]

[madqueenalanna]

so i'm almost done with my "terror" (show) rewatch and just finished reading "terror" (book) yesterday so let me ramble lowkey about the differences

i do love of course the little character details of the book that couldn't possibly make it into the show. sir john's devotion to his "gentleman" status to the point that he stays dead silent during sex, for one, crozier getting jacked off in a pond for another. the book's meandering pace gave us lots of ship descriptions (agonizing) but also lots of time with even minor characters (peglar for one)

and so because of their respective mediums, i like each ending/portrayal of tuunbaq in its own way. in the book, it's a spirit created by a goddess, forced to wander the frozen north and feast. silna and people like her are psychic, marry other psychics to create their own tribe, their own people. this is not to control tuunbaq but simply to communicate; they leave it offerings, it doesn't kill them. the white men have no way to understand this, and so they trespass and are murdered. crozier leaves his identity behind to join these people, loses his tongue, has children by silna, and feels the honor in this choice. tuunbaq's appearance is ephemeral, difficult to explain, almost incorporeal. it isn't a monster, it's a part of the land in the same way winter is. very spiritual

in the show of course it's much more straightforward. it's a beast that can be injured, can eventually be killed, needs to be bound to a shaman that can control it. silna cuts out her own tongue to follow in her father's footsteps, instead of having lost her tongue as a child in this psychic group. it dies, agonizingly, like so many of the polar bears it resembles, yet another victim of british colonialism. silna is ostracized by her people for its death under her watch. crozier joins the netsilik without her, assimilating culturally if not on this secondary spiritual plane. obviously this makes much more sense to see on screen

the other big change is of course the health of the men. sure they SAY in the show the men are failing, and we see some of them, but the book, agonizingly (good), details every mile they haul sledges, every symptom of scurvy, a few violent deaths from botulism, blanky losing first part of his foot, then half his leg, then several wooden legs break and he calls its quits when the stump is gangrenous. the book is so clear that this takes MONTHS, it feels like months, hickey's mutiny is almost a minor footnote because they were all already almost dead by the time it occurs. the cannibalism is such a last resort that they're all half-dead by that point. it's slow, it's painful, so it all makes more... sense, almost. you FEEL their pain, this slow horrific death, the STARVATION

that said i love the death of fitzjames in the show. he's got scurvy and dies of botulism in the book, but i think it's just scurvy in the show. we see his battle scars, obtained in a colonial venture to asia, re-open and suppurate. in a very real, literal way, his past has come to haunt him, to poison him. he dies on another colonial mission, weakened by his former expeditions eating him alive, destroyed by this land that wants them dead

and from researching this show/book i got linked by some very helpful redditors to some very long articles detailing inuit descriptions of finding hms terror before it sank, so i'm excited to dip into those

[sordidmusings]

Halloween in One Piece

Was blabbing at @schoute about Halloween in the OP Universe since she's doing some Halloween sketches for funsies! I'm working a little bit on a tiny One Piece haunted house AU thing (also for funsies) but this got me thinking of what would Halloween be like in the One Piece universe?

And I think it would be the most possible fun - different sections of the seas have their different traditions and takes on the thin veil holiday. Some traditions vary island to island. A lot of it depends on how much movement/intermingling there is between the locations so each of the four seas has an overarching set of traditions with variation based on island but the Grand Line is WILDLY different from place to place

Kids argue over which island to visit to get the best candy, young adults argue over which place has the craziest celebrations, and even full fledged adults try to argue which place's festivals are best. Those same kids arguing for candy also gripe about how lucky pirates and marines are to be able to hop down the shoreline or head to the lands with the biggest celebrations

Also love the idea that you may end up getting more than you bargained for or taken for a wild ride if you don't check the celebrations of the land you end up on during Halloween. Imagine a place with something similar to The Mari Lwyd, but for Halloween instead of Yuletide. You've settled at a new island and are all set to welcome some trick or treaters just like you loved at your old island. There's a knock at the door and you run over, bowl of candy in hand. The cloaked person with the horse skull is taller than you expected but maybe on this island it's normal for adults to trick or treat too, you're not one to judge. But then they start spouting riddles at you. You try to answer but they keep coming. You're accosted for quite some time, not knowing that giving them some liquor will send them away. (This happens to be a favored tradition of Shanks and he often tries to be in the area so he gets to be the dude who hassles people til liquor happens)

Also the rumors kids would have about the mythical goods and traditions on the Grand Line!!!!! "I hear there's a whole island where the dead come back for Halloween to steal the living back with them!" "That's nothing - I heard about a crazy giant lady with an island made completely out of candy, but if you fo there she'll just use it to fatten you up and eat you instead!" "No way that's real, you're a liar!!" "Nuh-UH my uncle's in the marines and he swears it's true!"

And since Schoute asked about costumes-

I bet it depends on the island/sea!! Some plaes are big into costumes and look at you funny without them while others only specific people wear them or maybe it's just masks or paint or veils. Some places are more like Carnival in Italy or have city wide masquerade, some are like gamelan parades or Surva (thank you @click-and-flash-pest-captures for telling me about the latter 🤍) to scare away evil spirits so only people performing would be in full costume. Some are like the US costume tradition where you dress up as whatever you want - there's trends of characters and vibes of costume (long live the unhinged slutty costumes 🙏🏻) but it doesn't necessarily have to be scary. Or maybe within the area of the seas that are like that, some islands its the scarier the better and you better not set a single foot on that island if you're not ready to have the piss scared outta you. Whole thing is basically one haunted house and used as a test of courage. Rumors always spread of what you win if you make it past all the scares and traps to the island's center, but they also say no one's ever actually made it.

Ok but also the brothels of port towns that there DEFINITELY are (you cannot convince me otherwise, there's too much money to be made doing that in this world) going HAM for Halloween to entice customers. More pious lands using that fact to prove that the holiday is for degenerates.

Also on that note - despite the Celestial Dragons and their ilk being the richest they'd have the WORST Halloweens cuz they wouldnt understand actual fun if it bit them in the ass. Who needs a city's worth of candy bars over the joy of dressing up and goofing off with your friends or taking your kids out or anything else you could imagine. Their Halloween is cold and sterile and materialistic. Boo to them - they wouldn't be able to handle even a single mischief night 😤

OML I would pay all the money to just have an episode of ASL participating in mischief knight or or or young Shanks and Buggy (who get caught by Rayleigh and brought to Roger, who only encourages them and teaches them better pranks and tricks. Little did they know that was Rayleigh's intention all along). Also with mischief night, none of that pumpkin smashing shit - our boys are better than that 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 (maybe not some of the other ones tho. lookin at you, Kid)

Tentative tags: @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @hey-august @haveatthee83 @feral-artistry @mytanuki-kun @discordantwritings

[peculiurperennial]

A Sheep-Thief Problem

I recently had the spontaneous urge to write a short story about my Sheep-herder curb, Mousara. It's not very long, and I may or may not continue writing it sometime in the future.

But I thought I might as well share it so that it doesn't sit around in my notes gathering dust.

If you're interested, you can read it by clicking the Keep Reading.

------------------

Mousara ela-Curb had a sheep thief problem. As one of the renowned Sheep-herders of the Lowland curbs living among the southern mountains, it was her duty to ensure that no harm came to the sheep under her watch, until her pack leader deemed it appropriate for the pack to take a portion of the number of livestock available, while leaving just enough sheep left so that they could replenish their numbers.

It was very important for a Sheep-herder to monitor the number of sheep that were culled; too few sheep meant fewer lambs, which meant fewer sheep to feed the pack. If a Sheep-herder lost too much of their flock, there would be severe consequences. Negligence was not tolerated by Mousara’s pack leader.

And so, Mousara did not tolerate sheep-thieves.

At the beginning of the Fall season, Mousara had boasted a flock of twenty-five sheep among the cliff trails. Due to the fact that sheep required ample feeding grounds to graze and forage, Sheep-herders often had to travel quite a distance outside of their pack’s territory in order to maintain their flock.

This was normally not an issue, at least, amongst other Lowland curbs. The multitude of packs living in the southern plains had an overarching rule regarding sheep, and that was that: a Sheep-herder’s right to shepherd her flock where ever the grass grew was sacrosanct. A pack who pillaged another pack’s livestock was shunned and harassed by the mass majority, as sheep-thieves were looked down upon and labelled as barbarians. Less-than-kin. No better than primitive Highland curbs.

So, either Highland ghosts are haunting my flock, Mousara thought bitterly as she counted her sheep for the dozenth time. Or some other sneaky animal has been spiriting away my lambs while I am not looking.

She counted twenty sheep. Fifteen ewes and five rams. She did not factor in the newborn lambs as what she deemed the “Official Headcount” when she told her leader about the number of livestock the pack had. It was a given fact that nearly half of the lambs born this season would not make it to adulthood. And the mothering ewes always put up so much of a fuss if the curbs took away their lambs too soon after they were born.

Mousara had managed to convince her leader that it was better to wait until the lambs were weened before plucking them from their mothers, since the ewes’ paternal instincts only lasted about as long as they were producing milk. After that, they hardly batted an eye at the curbs dragging off one of their own.

Twelve lambs had been born at the beginning of the season. Three of which died of natural causes. However, three more had suddenly and mysteriously disappeared within the same day, without a single trace.

Mousara had tried to track the missing lambs down, expecting their trails to end at a cliff edge, since lambs were clumsy and lethal falls were all too common a fate for the uncoordinated. But instead she found the trail disappearing off in a muddle of other scents that she could not properly identify.

It could have been a rogue creasia who might have been clever enough to conceal their trail, she admitted, but that seemed unlikely. The last group of creasia that tried to scrape out a living in the southern plains had failed miserably, and either all died or went crawling back to Leeshwood. Since then, no creasia had been spotted within the southern plains for the past two years.

It was always possible that an Ely-Ary was poaching her lambs, but lambs were such a meager mouthful to the gigantic birds that Mousara was disinclined to pin one of them as the culprit. Even a small Ely-Ary would find a newborn lamb to be nothing worth eating. Besides, the southern packs and the Ely-Ary living at the peak of the southern mountains had a… Well, it would be rather presumptuous to call it a "treaty", Mousara reckoned. It was more like a “mutual-understanding”. As long as the Lowland curbs avoided venturing too high up into the mountains, the Ely-Ary generally didn’t bother with them.

Mousara had speculated, (mostly to herself since none of her fellow pack mates cared), that Ely-Ary primarily fed on the great fish from the sea. She had seen a skeleton of one such great fish being discarded by an Ely-Ary— the cursed thing had nearly fell on Mousara herself! And Mousara suspected that the overgrown bird had done it on purpose too!

Even now, she could remember the bird’s weird, screeching guffaw as it flew away while Mousara had been busy fussing over her frightened flock.

Anyway, what had she been thinking about again?

“Oh, right, the sheep-thief!” She spoke aloud, to the bemused baa’ing of her flock. It was not unusual for Mousara to speak her thoughts aloud with a sudden abruptness that many of her peers found strange. Usually such instances happened with no regard for the immediate topic being discussed, which resulted in Mousara being subtly excluded from conversational circles, as the parties involved found her spontaneous outbursts to be disruptive and confounding.

Mousara was, admittedly, more than happy to be engrossed within the contents of her own mind. As a Sheep-herder, whose job naturally required one to venture out with their flock away from the pack, this suited her just fine.

“Maybe a ferryshaft…” She murmured as she moved through the throng of wooly bodies.

A ferryshaft sheep-thief was more likely than any of the other potential candidates. Their dispersed herds traveled a lot and some traveled quite far abroad. But a traveling ferryshaft herd produced quite a lot of noise…

“A lone ferryshaft, then.” She decided with a flick of her ragged ear. “Sneaky, sneaky, rogue ferryshaft stealing my lambs!”

But stealing three lambs at once? One ferryshaft meant only one set of jaws to carry away a lamb. Maybe if the ferryshaft took one lamb, then hid the body, before taking more lambs? But why take more than what one ferryshaft needed and risk detection?

Mousara was snapped out of her speculation by a signalling yip from atop a cliff, causing her to pause and look sharply in that direction.

Oh right, she technically had two subordinates. Sheep-herders were hardly expected to tend a flock all alone, after all. However, herding sheep took long and arduous training under a mentor, and most curbs found the task of watching over sheep unbearably dull. So, most of the time, Mousara’s subordinates were comprised of the pack’s younger members who were still transitioning from adolescence to fully mature adults. They had no skill in the art of sheep herding, but they made for good look-outs.

The youngster on watch nearest to Mousara was a scrawny runt of a thing who had a most unfortunate name. Flea.

How he got such a demeaning moniker wasn’t too hard to guess. Flea was a small, ugly dark brown thing with wiry hair and a crooked tail, with a patch of missing fur on the end that never seemed to grow back properly. He also had a propensity for whining and complaining at every and any opportunity.

Nobody liked him, which was most likely why he was conscripted as one of Mousara’s look-outs.

And now here he was, yipping and howling like crazy. The noise was making the sheep anxious, much to Mousara’s annoyance.

“Shut up! Your wailing is upsetting the flock!” She barked sharply as she stormed up the side of the cliff and landed neatly beside the young watcher, much to the latter’s surprise.

“But- I saw-“ The adolescent began before being harshly cut off with a swift cuff to the ear from Mousara’s forepaw.

“And your noise likely alerted the thief and allowed it to escape! Have you no sense?!” She snarled while the other whined piteously. “You should have come down and alerted me quietly about the thief’s presence! We do not posses the support of the entire pack to call upon with your incessant yowling. Use your brain next time, pup! Understand?”

“Y-yes, Sheep-herder Mousara…”

“Good! Now what did you see?”

“I-I saw one of the lambs wandering towards the tall grass. I thought nothing of it at first, it wasn’t that far from the rest of the herd, but then s-something snatched it away.”

“‘Something’?” Mousara prompted. “Be more specific, pup! What snatched it away? Did a ferryshaft poke its head out of the grass and grab it—“

“A ferryshaft? N-no it—“

“Was it a creasia, then? If so, we ought to return to the pack and-“

“It wasn’t a creasia. It-“

“A rogue curb? Ancestor’s bones, when I get my teeth on whatever sniffling coward thought they could steal from my flock-“

“It wasn’t any animal!”

That made Mousara pause, and she narrowed her eyes quizzically at the other curb. “What do you mean?”

Flea licked his lips, clearly overwhelmed and trying to compose himself after having realized he had just shouted at his superior. “It wasn’t- It wasn’t any animal that I had ever seen. It was strange, Sheep-herder Mousara, it was like…a snake, almost. Or maybe- it might have been a large pheasant? It had a small head, I think, and it grabbed the lamb by the neck and pulled it into the tall grass!”

Mousara considered Flea’s words with clear skepticism. “You say that you saw a snake-pheasant…”

Flea had enough awareness to look ashamed at his inability to properly articulate what he meant. “Well, I thought it was a snake… but it could have been a pheasant, though I’ve never seen a pheasant take a lamb before. It didn’t look like it had eyes, though. But then again- I only saw it for a brief moment! So, I don’t know…”

Mousara had half-a-mind to just start boxing the incompetent runt over the ears until he started making sense, when she heard the sound of another curb approaching and turned around to growl at her other subordinate.

“What are you doing away from your post?!”

Varris, a sleek specimen just on the cusp of reaching adulthood, was a much more dependable individual when compared to the likes of Flea. His only fault was that he was unabashedly naive, almost to the point of obstinate ignorance. So, it had been decided by the pack that sending him to do watcher duty with the Sheep-herders would be the surest way to wisen him up, at least before he could get himself killed. He was otherwise expected to be a promising addition to the pack.

However, Mousara disliked him about as much as she disliked most of the rotation of watchers she received to aid in guarding her flock.

“Sheep-herder Mousara, sir!” Varris spoke in a rush, winded from running but obviously excited by the way he practically bounced on his paws. “The flock is running away!”

“What?!” Mousara squawked in alarm, whirling around and ogling in open mouthed astonishment as she watched the last of her sheep disappearing into the tall grass of the valley beyond.

Never in Mousara’s many years of herding sheep had she ever witnessed a flock dive headlong into the tall grass. The docile creatures practically treated any significant amount of thick foliage like it was a solid wall, instinctively aware that their wool made it all too easy to become tangled and thus easy prey to creatures who stalked the underbrush. It was why sheep preferred roaming the cliffs rather than the woods or plains.

“We should go tell the pack!” Varris suggested. “I think this is one of those times where we run away and get more curbs.”

Flea made an unconvinced sound, squinting reproachfully at Varris. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. If our leader finds out you let the flock run away…”

“I didn’t let them run away! If we go now, we might make it back in time with reinforcements before whomever is taking the flock can go very far.”

“I don’t know… Maybe we shouldn’t—“

“MY SHEEP!” Mousara shrieked, diving down the side of the cliff at such speed that her hindquarters nearly pitched over her head. She hit the ground in a shower of loose dirt and ran after her flock without so much as a backwards glance.

Varris and Flea watched as the Sheep-herder went, before looking at one another. A mutual understanding seemed to pass wordlessly between them, before they scrambled to catch up with their superior.

[lassieposting]

Lassie's Fic Prompts: Tolkien Edition

Usually I haunt mutuals or the prompt channels of Discord communities but the Tolkien ones are all massive and I have anxiety, so I'm gonna shove them in the tag instead! Fic concepts from your friendly local prompt goblin, because god knows my ass will never get around to writing them. This post will get updated as ideas occur to me. Tags are mostly to help express The Vibe™. Anyway feel free to come talk to me about this shit I have feelings.

Bagginshield

T+ || Fluffy || Post-Canon, Reunion Fic

When the ringbearers arrive in the Blessed Realm, as a reward for the great peril they have suffered on behalf of all of Middle Earth, they are granted a single boon by the Valar.

Bilbo Baggins knows that elves, dwarves and men go to different realms after death. But Mahal's halls are vast and grand, and he is only a very small Hobbit. Surely room can be found for a single burglar in the dwarven afterlife?

Barduil

G+ || Angsty || Post-Canon, Loss, Closure, Bonus Points For Bard's Memorial Surviving To Be Unearthed In The Modern Day

Before leaving Middle Earth, Thranduil pays a final visit to the memorial he had carved for Bard.

Saurondriel

T+ || || Debates & Bickering, Sauron Drawing Parallels Between His Life & 'Halbrand's', Sauron As A Calming Influence On Morgoth's Genocidal Tendencies, Galadriel's Black & White Thinking, Small Moments Of Goodness

Halbrand takes Galadriel out to eat with his first week's wages from the forge in Armenelos, but the puppetry performance going on in the plaza - in which she is the heroine and he one of the villains - proves a distraction from their definitely-not-a-date.

When Halbrand admits that he's never seen the Sauron/Morgoth duo portrayed as utterly evil before, coming as he does from a land of their allies, Galadriel asks him what kind of stories the Southlanders tell. Sensing an opportunity to humanise himself in her mind, Halbrand dredges up some painful memories to introduce her to Mairon, Melkor and the path to hell paved with twisted love and good intentions.

T+ || Comedy || 5+1 Fic, Sauron Doing His Best, He's Not Spectacular At Being A Human But He's Trying, Galadriel Is Suspicious But Doesn't Know Enough About Humans To Call Him Out, Entirely Normal Mannish Behaviour™, Galadriel Will See A Guy Leave Scorchmarks On The Bedsheets When He Comes & Be Like 'It's Fine They Probably All Do That'

Halbrand is quite possibly the most realistic fana Sauron has ever created. He's designed to be so believably human he'll fly completely under the radar. But ultimately, a disguise is only ever as good as the actor wearing it. Halbrand is a fire spirit piloting an exquisitely crafted meat suit, and Sauron's idea of Totally Normal Mannish Behaviour is sometimes...slightly off base.

Galadriel is beginning to suspect the truth: her new significant annoyance is many things, but human is not one of them. But that's a terrifying prospect. And - and she hasn't spent all that much time around the race of Men herself, really. She's used to other elves. So it's probably fine. It's totally fine. Men are just Like That, is all.

AKA, five times Galadriel notices Halbrand's weird-as-fuck Maia traits/behaviours, but deliberately excuses them as Just Human Stuff because she doesn't want to deal with who and what he really is.

And one time where she already knows who and what he is. Many years into their marriage, Galadriel is mostly accustomed to her king's more unusual quirks. But sometimes, Mairon can be so human it almost breaks her heart.

T+ || Future Fic || Redemption Arc, Sort Of, Ainur Family Drama, Where Is Celeborn? Who Knows, Sauron Slouching Less Into The Light Of Goodness & More Into The Mist Of Moral Ambiguity, For Galadriel™, Dagor Dagorath

At the close of the Third Age, the last of Arda's elves take ship for Valinor, leaving Middle Earth - and the disembodied spirit of its former Dark Lord - to the race of Men. For thousands upon thousands of years, the Undying Lands enjoy a hard-won peace.

But when Morgoth manages to escape the Void, that peace is shattered, and with Valinor itself under threat, Ossë is dispatched to the world left behind to find the one soul who knows the enemy as well as Morgoth knows himself. He tracks Sauron to the deep south, where he's managed to claw back a physical form and has been living out his powerless exile as Hal Brand, old-timey blacksmith to the local ranchers.

When Ossë appears on his doorstep with news of Morgoth's escape, offering clemency in exchange for information, Sauron suspects a trap, and turns the offer down, intending to go into hiding rather than face his old master's rage at what's become of his dark kingdom and faithful servants. To sweeten the pot, Ossë leverages Sauron's greatest regret: the knowledge that Galadriel is in Valinor, and the implication that she'd like to see her old enemy again. Unable to resist the opportunity to reconcile with her, Sauron agrees to finally go home and share what he knows of Morgoth's plans and likely next moves with the Valar.

But with age-old grudges and rivalries causing trouble in Valinor, and Morgoth determined to retrieve his wayward lieutenant at any cost, can Sauron really turn back from the darkness long enough to hand victory to the Valar in the Last Battle?

T+ || Hurt/Comfort || Trauma, Nightmares, Identity Reveal, Sauron Has Seen Some Shit, He Probably Has Impressive Telepathy Defenses Most Of The Time But Shh, He Loves Her & He Wants To Be The Person She Thinks He Is,

Fighting for his life on the road to Eregion, Halbrand slowly succumbs to a murky world of fever dreams and infection-addled hallucinations. Trying to ease his restless sleep, Galadriel reaches out to to touch his mind...and finds herself dragged into a disjointed maelstrom of her most hated enemy's worst moments and greatest fears: Morgoth's bitter rage, the judgment of the Valar, the agony of bleeding out in the snow at Adar's feet, the inevitable pain of her own rejection if ever he's discovered.

Too weak to repel her or even really realise what he's sharing, Sauron lets her in, taking comfort from her presence. Presented with an opportunity she never thought she'd have - to look through the mind of her enemy unhindered - Galadriel stays her hand long enough to look for closure, for confirmation that he is the monster she's been hunting, that he's been manipulating her all along. Instead, she might just find something worth saving.

T+ || AU || Enemies To Lovers To Enemies To Friends To Lovers Again, Yelling At Sauron As Therapy, Halbrand!Mairon, Probably Because He Feels The Most Himself With Her Or Something, Aulë Knows Whats Up, He 100% Lets Slip On Purpose, Healing

After the destruction of the One Ring, what's left of Sauron's spirit is rounded up by the Valar and imprisoned in Valinor.

Galadriel does not find peace in the Undying Lands. After everything she has seen and done, she struggles to settle back into the realm of winterless spring. When a slip of the tongue from Aulë gives her the location of Sauron's prison, her restless nighttime wanderings begin to take her there to see him.

Sometimes, she is incandescent with rage and betrayal, and she vents her age-old anger on him without expecting any answers. Sometimes, she comes for information, and her questions are cold, cruel, demanding things flung through the bars. Sometimes, she is just sad and tired, and her questions are quiet things passed between them as they sit either side of the door. At first, there is no fight left in him: he takes what she throws at him in defeated silence. But the more she visits - to berate him, to needle him, to call him names, to ask him why, to reminisce - the more he starts to respond to her. And as her anger finally begins to die out, and their time together is increasingly spent remembering, and talking, and getting to know one another anew, the more the broken, amorphous creature in the cell begins to resemble the Man she once thought she knew.

M+ || Shameless Smut || Romance, Sauron's Complicated Relationship With Sexuality, Service Top Galadriel, Maybe Grayspec Maiar, The Mortifying Ordeal Of Emotional Intimacy, He Thinks She Wants To Subjugate Her Enemy, She Actually Wants To Love Her Idiot

Millennia ago, Mairon learned the value of sex as a bargaining chip, and he's been using it to get what he wants from the Incarnates - and Melkor - ever since. It's become a well-honed staple of his negotiation toolkit, a performance so well-rehearsed he barely needs to think about it. It's almost unheard of for anyone to notice that he tends to zone out partway through.

Almost.

Halbrand's tendency to seduce his way out of the doghouse hasn't gone unnoticed by his new queen, and nor has the way his eyes glaze over just as things start to get interesting. She's beginning to wonder whether anyone ever actually told him that intimacy is supposed to be fun. Determined to keep him in the moment with her, she decides she'll just have to teach him that herself.

AKA, Galadriel notices that Halbrand tends to dissociate and put on the act he thinks she wants from him in the bedroom. Concerned, she makes it her mission to show him he's safe to relax and enjoy himself with her - and absolutely wrecks him to make her point.

T+ || Canon Divergence || Galadriel Says Yes, Ainur Family Drama, Mairon's Aulë-Shaped Daddy Issues, Arondir & Theo, Could Be 5+1, Angst & Fluff, Maybe Comedy, Lucifer-Style Therapeutic Breakthrough, Aulë & Mairon Have Different Love Languages/Communication Styles, Galadriel Eyeing Sauron Suspiciously: What Are You Scheming Now, Meanwhile Sauron To Arondir: IDK Man I Just Never Felt Like I Was Good Enough YK? Why Wasn't I Good Enough?, Arondir Just: Your Majesty Have You Considered Therapy

Galadriel names Bronwyn advisor to the newly-restored crown of the Southlands, which means the new king and queen start seeing a lot of her husband and child. Mairon seems fascinated by the little family, and the pseudo-paternal relationship developing between Arondir and Theo - suddenly, he's full of questions about family dynamics for humans and elves. Gradually, the advice of his new wife and friends helps Mairon realise a few things about his own relationship with Aulë.

Alternatively, five times watching Arondir and Theo interact recontextualises a memory for Mairon, and one time he makes a parenting choice with Celebrían and saltily realises Aulë had a point in doing the same thing to him

T+ || Time Travel/Time Loop || Sauron Fucks Up The Timeline, Then Tries To Fix It Without Killing Finrod, Bonus Points If Halbrand Finds He Begrudgingly Likes Finrod, Alternate Meeting, Maybe She's Still A Soldier But Doesn't Remember Him, Maybe He Has To Go Back To Valinor To Even Meet Her, IDK Lots Of Options

The thing about Galadriel's rejection is that it all goes back to the death of her brother.

Either by his own power, or by the power of a Vala who wants to teach him a lesson, Sauron finds himself transported back to shortly before everything fell apart, and realises that, as Halbrand, he has an opportunity to fix everything...by breaking Finrod Felagund out of his own dungeon.

But he's surrounded by dangers, not least of which is his own former self, and time travel is tricky. Saving Felagund's life may have unexpected consequences - without her quest for vengeance, would he ever have met Galadriel at all?

T+ || Canon Divergence || Body-Sharing, The Equivalent Of Having Your Shitty Ex Crashing On Your Couch, Road Trip, There Was Only One Body

Ever since their falling out on the banks of the Glanduin, Sauron has been trying to get into Galadriel's head. One night, furious at yet another invaded dream about a man who never existed, she lashes out. She channels all her power into shoving him off the raft, or stabbing him with Finrod's long-lost dagger - and wakes, shaken and convinced that she just felt Sauron die.

She's half-right. She's successfully caught him by surprise, and ripped him out of his body. Unfortunately for her, since they were connected at the time, she's failed to leave him formless and impotent.

She's dragged him into her own head.

When he awakens, psychological warfare erupts as they battle for control of her body and mind, a twisted back and forth - she tries to drown him in his nightmares, and he tortures her with her broken heart. Eventually, as it becomes clear that the only way to evict him from her brain is to bring him back into proximity with his own body, they reach a tentative, fragile truce. They can hold off on killing each other for as long as it takes to journey across Middle Earth. They hope.

But it's a long way from the Shipwright's home in the Grey Havens to the half-finished tower of Barad-Dur, and a long time to get to grips with someone else's pain. When Halbrand reawakens in Mordor, Galadriel might find she's not so keen to kill him after all.

T+ || AU || Kidfic, Single Mom Galadriel, Halbrand Has A Dog And He's Gonna Make It Everyone's Problem, Step-Sauron, Romcom Vibes, Quite Wholesome Actually, Modern AU

Galadriel's marriage has been hanging by a thread for years, but when her estranged husband Celeborn is confirmed KIA overseas, she unexpectedly finds herself utterly lost in the world. Now a single mother to their heartbroken six-year-old daughter Celebrían, she takes a job offer that moves her little family halfway across the country and finds herself struggling to adjust to her new normal as she tries to settle in to a new area while transitioning from stay-at-home mom to…well. Putting a roof over her daughter's head and making sure Celebrían can see the play therapist a couple times a month.

Lonely, struggling and beginning to wonder if she fucked up by moving away for a fresh start, if she ought to just go home to her parents with her tail between her legs, Galadriel is delighted when Celebrían announces she's made a friend in the next garden over, and goes to introduce herself to her neighbours and invite their child to dinner.

The man who answers the door has tattoos, no kids, and is very happy to introduce her to the new friend Celebrían has been playing catch with over the fence: Carcharoth, an absurdly oversized shepherd mix.

While Galadriel is initially wary of her child getting friendly with a strange man and his rowdy dog, it's nice to have someone her own age to talk to. Someone who looks at her like he sees her, and doesn't find her wanting. Someone who supports her, and lets her support him in turn.

As their lives begin to twine together and they figure out how to fit their jagged edges together in a way that works, Galadriel starts to think she might just want to stay here after all.

AKA: Halbrand kept the dog in his messy breakup with Melkor. Carcharoth learns to play fetch…and fetches Halbrand a whole-ass family

M+ || AU || Wrong Number, Text Fic, Modern AU, Romcom Vibes, Strangers To Friends To Lovers, But Also Strangers To Rivals To Lovers, Halbrand's A+ Flirting, Found Family, Halbrand Uses His Middle Name In His Personal Life I Guess, Tevildo Is Spoiled And Orange

When Galadriel is offered one of four coveted associate spots at a prestigious inner-city law firm, she barely stops to think before wrestling a lifetime's worth of belongings into the trunk of her sensible hatchback and exchanging her sprawling family home in Tirion for an overpriced one-bed apartment in Eregion, halfway across the country.

While she's settling in, she receives a text from an unknown number - a picture of the sender's cat. And although she's not usually the type to strike up a conversation with a stranger, she's feeling rather alone and isolated in a new city while she waits for her first day at work, and so she responds with both a 'wrong number' warning and a question about the cat.

Unexpectedly, Wrong Number Guy texts back.

And keeps texting.

Over months, she develops a friendship with this stranger she's never met. Wrong Number Guy is apparently called Halbrand, has bizarre taste in music, can recommend an excellent restaurant for almost any cuisine, and should be jailed for excessive use of the smirk emoji. He sends her a good luck text on her first day at work, sends her pictures of Tevildo the cat to cheer her up when she's having a bad day, and once orders pizza to her apartment when she's having a really bad day. He also listens to her vent about her fellow associate and work archnemesis, Mairon, who's smug, shady as all hell, and gunning for the same promotion Galadriel wants, which naturally makes him the worst person alive.

As their relationship evolves, Galadriel starts trying to get Halbrand to meet her in real life. But he seems strangely hesitant for someone so charming and sociable, and it makes her wonder. Who is he, really? And what is he hiding from her?

M+ || AU || Modern AU, Sex Work, Accidental Voyeurism, Porn With Plot

Halbrand, being the fortunate owner of a Sexy Voice, has a nice little side gig doing audio porn on OF/Patreon/whatever, and he's Galadriel's go-to jill-off material. When her elderly neighbour transitions into a nursing home and the most obnoxious man alive moves in next door, she can't help feeling as though she's met him before. But it's not until she hears him getting off through their shared bedroom wall that she realises why his voice is so familiar.

G+ || Canon Compliant-ish || Half-Maia Celebrían, Werewolf!Sauron, Father-Daughter Bonding

When Celebrían is small and life is peaceful, Galadriel believes her lands to finally be safe, and the little princess of Lothlórien is free to wander the forest at will. Near the outskirts of her mother's realm, she befriends a strange wolfish creature with yellow eyes.

AKA: Galadriel has custody. Sauron, living as the Necromancer in Dol Guldur, risks sneaking into Lothlórien as a wolf or a warg for visitation.

M+ || AU || Modern AU, Sex Work, OnlyFans, Porn With Plot, Halbrand Is Loaded & Galadriel Is Making Bank, But Also Halbrand Is Interested In Her As A Person So That's A Plus, Online Flirting

Struggling to feel attractive and reclaim her sexuality after the breakdown of her marriage, Galadriel impulsively signs up for OnlyFans following a night out with Nori and one too many cocktails. It's fun and validating and boosts her confidence to get back into the dating scene. But the mediocre men she's meeting at bars and on dating apps quickly begin to pale in comparison to the lavish attentions of her most supportive follower, "darklordsauron", with whom she's beginning to feel an undeniable spark.

M+ || Canon Divergence || Dream Courtship, Prison Penpal, Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, Morally Questionable Valar, Reeducation, Attempted Brainwashing

The war is over. Morgoth, brought back to Aman in chains, has sued for clemency, but the Valar do not fall for the same trick twice: it will be the Void for him this time. Thousands of his Úmaiar have been imprisoned in Valinor. And Galadriel, her oath fulfilled, joins the legions of Eldar taking ship back to the Undying Lands.

As she struggles to pick up the threads of her old life, embroidering and baking and waiting for her brothers to return from Mandos, a figure begins to appear in her dreams - in the background at first, becoming increasingly prominent the more she notices him - and she comes to know him as Halbrand the blacksmith.

Galadriel is no fool: she knows "Halbrand" is a Maia, paying court to her through her dreams. And she knows well the Aulendili who worked the Smith's forge when she was apprenticed there: she is certain she can discern the identity of her admirer, with a little time and effort.

But her dreams, she will come to realise, are not coming from Aulë's forge, and her Halbrand is no simple worker.

AKA: The war ends with Morgoth's defeat. Imprisoned by the Valar, Sauron's only escape is osanwe. Galadriel, a powerful telepath in her own right, gets unwittingly signed up to a prison pen pal program.

T+ || Canon Compliant || Third Age Haladriel, Sauron Can Still Be Halbrand In The Mind Palace, Just Not In Real Life, Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort

In Caras Galadhon, Galadriel wakes up screaming from a horrifying PTSD nightmare. Instinctively, unintentionally, she reaches out for comfort, for safety, for understanding - not from her husband, sleeping soundly down the hall, but from an ancient evil she's been shutting out for centuries.

Hundreds of miles away in Barâd-Dur, Sauron answers the knock on the door to his mind -

-- and Halbrand does his best to give her what she needs.

M+ || Canon Divergence || Consensual But Neither Safe Nor Sane, Sauron Poking The Bear, Past Abuse, Past Torture, Deliberate Triggering, Halbrand's Morgoth Trauma, Galadriel's Finrod Trauma, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Aftercare In Both Directions, Galadriel Goes Too Far & Finds It Quite Upsetting, Halbrand's Shitty Coping Mechanisms

Sauron has spent hundreds of thousands of years devoted to Morgoth, in a relationship where every dynamic was characterised by power and domination - corrupter and corrupted, king and general, master and servant. In that time, he's learned that pain and punishment are unpleasant but essential components of absolution. When he fails or angers Melkor, he is punished for it, and then - eventually - forgiven.

Now, as Halbrand, he's not getting that same routine, and it's making him antsy and unsettled. Galadriel may have agreed to stay with him and bind him to her light, but he's painfully aware of her hatred for Sauron, the way her brother's corpse still lies between them. But she hasn't taken her retribution, and he hates waiting for the hammer to fall. He remembers all too well what happened the last time he failed to address this kind of resentment from an important ally. He wants her to get it over with.

At his invitation - and after a considerable amount of goading with which he manages to make her snap - she vents centuries of loathing and long-nurtured pain on the monster she's hunted for entire lifetimes - and, for reasons she cannot understand, he lets her. This makes Halbrand feel more stable, but she's horrified at her own loss of control. Together, they try to figure out a better way forward.

M+ || AU || Modern AU: Famous Musicians, Enemies To Lovers, Fake Dating, Romcom Vibes, He Makes Her A Little Bit Worse, She Makes Him A Little Bit Better, Writing Songs Together

Galadriel is a folk singer-songwriter with a squeaky-clean image, fighting to break out of obscurity. Halbrand is a trainwreck rock star on his third tabloid scandal of the year. Frantically attempting damage control, his long-suffering manager makes a deal with hers: a fake relationship. Being seen with her will make it look like he's finally getting his shit together, while being seen with him will give her much-needed exposure to a massive and passionate fanbase.

There's only one downside. She hates his guts.

G+ || Canon Divergence || Bronwyn Is Fine Guys, Comedy, King Of The Southlands Halbrand, Life Lessons, Romantic Cliches, Galadriel Just Wants A Little Bit Of Honesty Y'all

When Halbrand returns to the Southlands elfless and withdrawn, everyone seems to have Opinions on how he can win back Galadriel's affection.

Five times Halbrand follows the well-intentioned romantic advice offered by Bronwyn, Arondir, Theo, Celebrimbor (via letter, probably) and the newly-rescued Isildur, plus one time he finally gives up on the scheming and manipulation and gives Galadriel what she really wants from him: the truth.

G+ || Canon Divergence || Step-Sauron, Celebrían Has Balls Of Steel, Bonding

Halbrand doesn't really understand how to play. Celebrían attempts to bond in a way that will make sense to him.

AKA, Galadriel's eight year old challenges Morgoth's former right hand to a (play) swordfight

T+ || Canon Divergence || Lifespan Differences, Forgiveness In Mortals Vs Elves, King Of The Southlands Halbrand, The Southlanders Know, Bronwyn's A+ Ancient Immortal Entity-Wrangling Skills, Halbrand Goes Back To Pelargir With The Freed Southlanders

When baffling intelligence informs Galadriel that Halbrand has returned to what's left of the Southlands and taken up the crown she helped him steal, her conscience cannot allow her to sit idly by and leave those innocent people ignorant of the snake in their midst, vulnerable to whatever foul plan he's concocting for them. At the head of a train of humanitarian aid from Lindon, she rides for Pelargir to reveal Sauron's secret to his people.

As it turns out…they know. They've noticed. Several people saw him shield the village when the volcano erupted. Those who were imprisoned with him in Mordor have heard him use or understand Black Speech, or seen him calm the wargs. Bronwyn, who spends most of her time with him as Chief Advisor, is convinced that he doesn't sleep enough to be human, and he occasionally references events that happened long before he should've been born. But Sauron - an enemy most living elves have personally fought against - is a name from the very oldest of the Southlanders' stories to these people. A fairytale evil, defeated before their grandfathers' great-grandfathers were even thought of. They're more inclined to judge Halbrand based on what they've seen him do in person - save their lives, suffer for them, shield them from Adar - than on oral history from thousands of years ago, and as it stands, they're feeling considerably safer with their odd Maia king protecting them than they would feel without him. They're giving him a chance to prove he's changed for the better. So, shh, Commander. Let him pretend. He thinks nobody's noticed. There's a betting pool on when he'll figure out that they all know.

To Galadriel, this is…a rather alien viewpoint she has to wrestle with. Can someone really change that much in just a few thousand years?

T+ || Canon Divergence || Single Mom Galadriel, Teenage Celebrían, Step-Sauron, King Of The Southlands Halbrand, Mother-Daughter Relationships, Halbrand's Aule-Shaped Daddy Issues, Family Feelings, Bad Mom Galadriel Rights

Elves have immense lifespans and enjoy commensurably long childhoods; when Galadriel left her very young daughter in the care of distant relatives to go off and hunt down Sauron, she always assumed that she'd miss very little of Celebrían's youth in the grand scheme of things. But she's been gone a very long time, and when she finally sends for the newly-minted princess of the Southlands to join her in Pelargir, what arrives is not a sweet little girl but an angry, uprooted adolescent whose memories of her mother and father have gone fuzzy over centuries.

As mother and daughter struggle to reconnect and understand each other, Halbrand - poster child for parental abandonment issues - tries to bridge the gap.

T+ || Canon Divergence || Galadriel Said Yes, King Of The Southlands Halbrand, Power Couple, Kemen Being An Asshole, Political Manoeuvring, Halbrand Is An Incredibly Savvy Diplomat, Kemen Is Way Out Of His Depth, Kemen Trying To Sway Haladriel To Pharazon's Side, Possibly By Spouting The Lie That Míriel Has Allied With Sauron, Careful My Guy Or Sauron Might Just Decide To Uphold That So-Called 'Alliance' And Start Causing Problems, Galadriel's A+ Maia Wrangling Skills VS Her Friendship With Míriel FIGHT, Halbrand Getting To Go A Bit Feral

Kemen arrives in Pelargir to take control of the city, under the impression that no grubby, uneducated low man would dare challenge the new prince of Westernesse and his contingent of Númenorean guards.

But the king of the Southlands is not, in truth, a low man.

And neither is his new queen.

G+ || Canon Divergence || Pippin Took's A+ Life Choices, Butt Dialling The Dark Lord, Pippin Tries His Hand At Relationship Therapy, Outsider Perspective, Gandalf POV

In ROTK, Sauron answers the Palantír like he's really hoping it might be Galadriel this time. Pippin Took is not Galadriel, but he has recently met her, and - since he's not the brightest bulb and doesn't really cotton on that he's just accidentally facetimed the Dark Lord - he's perfectly happy to tell this complete stranger all about that experience in detail. Sauron, smart enough to realise that he might get some usable intel about Lothlorien out of this strange little creature, entertains the conversation for longer than he otherwise might have. Pippin is even pretty easy to talk to.

And when Gandalf bursts in, half-expecting the dear little soul to be driven mad with agony, he finds Pippin…very earnestly trying to talk Mairon through how to fix his relationship problems - an undertaking of such colossal stupidity that the entire West gave it up entire Ages ago.

And Mairon actually seems to be listening.

Angbang

T+ || Angsty || Outsider Perspective, Ainur Family Drama, Melkor Is A Mess But He's Mairon's Mess, Even Evil Has Loved Ones, The Valar Concept Of Love & Melkor's Concept Of Love As Very Different Things

Angband is a smoking ruin. The Enemy is a captive of the Valar. The war, it would seem, is over.

But the Ainur are uneasy. Not all of Morgoth's forces have been subdued. The Enemy's favourite servant has slipped the net, and getting information out of Melkor is like pulling teeth. Under questioning - and even the threat of the Void - in Valinor, he still refuses to tell them where his devoted lieutenant Sauron has gone into hiding.

Aulë, waiting for news of his wayward Maia, tries to make sense of how even the most corrupted of them all can be beholden to forces like love and loyalty, and how it can be that none of them ever saw this coming.

T+ || Fluff & Comedy || Epistolary Fic, Long-Distance Relationship, Leading Armies Means Being Apart A Lot, First Age, Love Letters, Complaint Letters As Well Lbh They Probably Bitch To Each Other A Lot About Everyone Else

Melkor's rise and fall, as told by the orders Melkor sends to Mairon, the reports Mairon sends back, and the informal postscripts attached to both.

M+ || PWP || Creative Use Of The Mind Palace, Telepathy, I Could Not Find A Mention On The Wiki Of Where Sauron Was During This Siege, So Let's Assume He Wasn't Like. Also Stuck In Angband

During the 400 year Siege of Angband, Melkor uses ósanwë to leave the surrounded fortress and spend some quality time with Mairon.

T+ || Angsty || Sanity Slippage, Hallucinations, Melkor Trying To Envision His Happily Ever After Even Though He Doesn't Know What Happily Ever After Looks Like

Sentenced to eternity in the Void, and slowly losing his mind to the isolation and sensory deprivation, Melkor comforts himself with visions of his little fire spirit.

Silvergifting

G+ || Fluffy || Celebrimbor Has A Crush, But He's Very Sweet About It, Possible Angst, Celebrimbor Probably Needs Closure Too, Halbrand Should Not Be Forging But He Can Still Hang Out

Celebrimbor likes to work late. Flattered by the admiration of a handsome young king, and delighted to have a fellow passionate smith to bounce ideas off, he takes to letting Halbrand join him in his workshop in the evenings while the latter is healing. One night, while swapping theories about the mithril and definitely not watching the candlelight catch on Halbrand's hair, he finds himself making a gift of his own. After all, a king should have a crown, and what better crown than one made by 'the Celebrimbor'?

(Possible angsty bonus scene: many thousands of years later, Galadriel seeks closure and a final goodbye in Mordor after Sauron's downfall. In the ruins of Barad-Dur she finds the crown that Celebrimbor made for a king who never existed, kept in Sauron's quarters as though treasured. Maybe she rescues it to take back to Valinor)

Poly/Multiple Ships

M+ || Saurondriel/Angbang || Past Abuse, Telepathy, The Mortifying Ordeal Of Learning To Make Better Romantic Choices, Sauron Loves & Fears Melkor Equally, Letting Go, Saurondriel Is Not Healthy But In This Case It Is HealthIER, So Like. That's Something

Sauron and Morgoth were still telepathically connected when Morgoth was thrown into the Void. A fragment of his consciousness remains in Sauron's mind, manifesting as a hallucination that only he can see and hear. At first, he is Melkor, the doting lover Sauron chooses to remember, amusing and affectionate and comforting and so, so missed. But, as rage and fear take over and the Void begins to drive Melkor mad, he increasingly behaves like Morgoth, the side of himself Sauron would rather forget - the cruel master whose wrath he fled after his defeat at Tol-in-Gaurhoth. With 'his' Melkor appearing less and less, Sauron becomes more and more burned out under the slew of criticism and mockery, and his confidence in his own ability to lead takes an additional battering when his subordinate turns on him at Forodwaith. When he happens to cross paths with Galadriel, he realises almost immediately that the light in her silences Morgoth's voice in his mind. As they grow closer, her unwavering belief in him - or, at least, in "Halbrand" - makes him want to do good, to please her and prove he's worthy of her support. But Morgoth is not the only voice silenced by proximity to Galadriel, and letting Melkor go is an agony he's not sure he can survive.

T+ || Angbang, Saurondriel, Galadriel/Celeborn || Having The Same Conversation While Thinking About Entirely Different People, She's Thinking About Celeborn, He's Thinking About Melkor, Halbrand's Species Has A Mayfly Lifespan & A Casual Approach To Intimacy So She Is Not Expecting Him To Understand At All, But He Really Really Does

When their flirty banter turns to their respective races' romantic customs, Galadriel finds herself opening up to Halbrand about elven marriage, about her long-lost husband, and about her feelings of guilt over her attraction to him.

Halbrand empathises. More than she ever thought he could.

M+ || AU || Saurondriel, Galadriel/Celeborn || Modern AU, Porn With Plot, Safe Sane & Consensual, Sex Work, Polyamory, Threesomes, Kink, Switch Halbrand, Galadriel & Celeborn Are Figuring Out What They Like So Who Knows, Halbrand Blacks Out & Has A Consensual Workplace Relationship

Galadriel's marriage has been going stale for years by the time her husband hesitantly comes out as bisexual. Secure in their relationship and trying to support him, she suggests a threesome to liven up their staid, predictable sex life - and, after some thought, Celeborn agrees. His one condition is that the third should be a professional, so that the situation won't get messy. Halbrand is the professional; they have a fantastic time with him and begin seeing him regularly. The first time they hire him, they all believe that this is the best way to avoid anyone catching feelings for anyone else. This, of course, goes really well for everyone involved.

M+ || AU || Saurondriel, Galadriel/Celebrimbor, Silvergifting ||Polyamory, Open Marriage, Copious Blacksmithing, Hurt/Comfort, Halbrand Recovering In Eregion, Relationship Miscommunications

A long time ago, Galadriel married Celebrimbor. They're fond of each other, but since circumstances so often keep them apart (Galadriel hunting Sauron for decades at a time, Celebrimbor inseparable from his forge), they've been quietly maintaining an open marriage for centuries, each occasionally seeking out discrete companionship when they feel the need.

This arrangement has worked well for them for hundreds of years. Neither of them expects it to ever change, or cause drama.

Enter Halbrand.

When Galadriel returns from Númenor with her wounded Southlander king, Celebrimbor is delighted to discover his wife's lover is a fellow smithing nerd. As Halbrand convalesces, Celebrimbor finds himself increasingly drawn to the charming young man and, in spending time with him, actually grows closer to his own wife.

When Halbrand's true identity comes to light, Galadriel is devastated, and Celebrimbor finds himself fighting to keep the three-way bond they've built from imploding.

M+ || Canon Divergence: Early S2 || Saurondriel, Silvergifting || Adar Frees The Southlanders & Creates A Problem, King Of The Southlands Halbrand, Aftermath Of Torture, Celebrimbor Rescues Halbrand From Mordor, Because He Has A Little Crush, Halbrand Recovering In Eregion AGAIN, Reunions

The Men of the Southlands have always been a stubborn, difficult people. Having waited over a thousand years for their royal line to reassert itself, and having seen control over their occupied lands ceded by no less than an elvish general, they're now proving very reluctant to give up on their shiny new king. When Halbrand trades his own surrender for his people's freedom, the displaced refugees descend upon the elven realms, petitioning Gil-Galad and Celebrimbor - Halbrand's apparent allies via Galadriel - to mount a rescue.

Although Galadriel's unsanctioned diplomatic manoeuvring has put him in a difficult position, Gil-Galad opts not to intervene; he thinks leaving Sauron and the orcs to duke it out between them will spare elven lives. For Galadriel herself - still reeling from the shock and betrayal of Halbrand's identity reveal, firmly in the doghouse with her High King, and demoted from her military station - this decision is a difficult one to stomach, as she struggles to reconcile her hatred for Sauron with the sudden fear and concern she feels for Halbrand, along with her own loss of her king's trust and inability to influence or counsel Gil-Galad to her advantage anymore. She's been cut out of the decision-making completely.

When she hears that Celebrimbor - for reasons she cannot begin to understand - has disobeyed Gil-Galad to send soldiers into Mordor to retrieve Halbrand, she rides for Eregion immediately, still not entirely sure whether she wants to see for herself that he's safe, or take the opportunity to kill him personally.

T+ || AU || Saurondriel, Silvergifting, Angbang || Goo Sauron, Sauron As The Rings, Maybe Being Split Into Three Rings Also Splits Him Into Three Personalities, So Galadriel Gets Halbrand/Repentant Mairon Who Is Smitten With Her, Celebrimbor Gets Annatar Who Grows To Be Fond Of Him, And Gil-Galad Gets Sauron Who Is Above All Things Fond Of Morgoth, The First Two Are Varying Degrees Of Tractable & Willing To Work/Compromise With Their Elven Bearers, But The Third One Is Manipulative And Wants Melkor Back, Which Is A Problem, And Now Sauron Is Attached To Possibly The Most Powerful King In Middle Earth At The Time

Galadriel does not find Sauron in Forodwaith, but she does find something that catches her attention: a strange ooze that moves almost like a living thing. Disturbed and suspicious, she catches it in a container and takes it back to Eregion with her, hoping one of the scholars there will be able to tell her what it is. Despite a few odd moments on the journey that make her wonder whether the goo might somehow be sentient, Eregion's scientists determine that the ooze is not an animal - it's a highly magically potent substance, probably leftover from Sauron's experiments.

Galadriel has some misgivings, but ultimately, Celebrimbor has some projects he thinks the goo might prove useful for, and she hands it over. He incorporates it into his Rings.

It's not until Galadriel slides Nenya onto her finger and begins having some strange dreams/hearing voices that she realises the truth: they've accidentally trapped a disincorporated Maia in there. Now they have to figure out how to free him.

And all Sauron has to do is not let on which Maia they've unwittingly imprisoned.

AKA: Mairon's ëala is in the Three, and he wants out. This has consequences (whether funny, romantic, horrifying, etc) for the ringbearers.

[adudelolwriting]

(italics are lyrics from this song)

====

Jay was a ghost, stuck to haunt his only friend he had at the end of his life. He was stuck to Tim after he died, and had to watch everything happen. Tim had… he lost everything, and it was clear he didn't care anymore in his actions. 

Fighting Alex, calling out for a fight, the stalking. 

Recording everything, and uploading it — if not just for Jay's memory. It made his dead heart squeeze with emotion. 

Tim got into the last, real fight with Alex. Jay's spirit cheered him on as Tim stabbed him over and over again, making his body and face unrecognizable as blood got everywhere. He had limped out of the room, before falling and collapsing onto some stairs.

You can't believe that you're still here.

It was clear Tim was expecting to die when he confronted Alex. But he didn't. The blood was flaking on his skin when he woke up, and Jay was by his side the whole time. Jay never realized how quiet Tim really was. Jay was always doing something in the hotel rooms — talking outloud, walking and pacing, working on a new video, typing on the keyboard or messing with the camera.

But now, as a ghost, unable to do anything or say anything… it was quieter than Jay liked. Tim was at least playing his banjo or ukulele when he was waiting for Alex to make a move, but now… he just sits and stares at the walls now, or watches a clock tick by.

You're lost to time,  You keep counting, waiting, For the chance I come back.

Jay talks to Tim, even as a ghost, even if he can't hear it. He says so much he never said when he could have — and a lot of it is apologies. After all, it was Jay's fault, Tim would have been fine without Jay forcing himself back into his life.

Jay hugs Tim a lot now, too. The other can't feel it, but… it's a mock comfort Jay can have now. Wiping away Tim's tears when it's late at night. Even if it doesn't matter, Jay's still there, in a false sense of comfort neither of them could feel.

As you lie there all alone, You listen for my voice, Although I'm not quite there.

It's been a few weeks since Alex died. A few weeks since Jay's been haunting Tim unwillingly. A few weeks since Tim lost everything.

Tim spent a lot of his time sitting in bed, sleeping or just laying there. As more and more days pass, he doesn't do anything to help himself. He only leaves when the hunger pains get too much. 

"C'mon, Tim, you need to get up," Jay muttered. It's been who knows how long since Tim last ate, again. "You need food. You can't keep going like this."

Tim simply turned over, now laying on his side, looking at the peeling wallpaper. Jay sighs, sitting on the bed which doesn't react at all to him. His hand falls onto Tim's shoulder, as he silently begged the man to be able to get up and do something. 

We can't heal еvery wound, So let it bleed.

It's been two months since Jay had died. Maybe more. Time was hard to tell, now, when so many of the days blurred together. 

Tim had actually left the house yesterday, and found Jessica, who was still alive. Tim promised her he would meet up again soon, to discuss the side effects of this sickness and to recommend a doctor for her. 

It… God, it was nice seeing Tim happy (even somewhat) again. Jay missed his smile. 

You want me back, I want you homе.

Jay hopes that with the introduction of Jessica back in Tim's life, he can start to heal, and get better again. That he can move on, confide in her, help her when she's struggling and she could help him. 

Jay hopes that Tim could start to live his regular life again, the one from before Jay came back for the first time so many years ago. Jay wants what's best for Tim, even if he has to continue watching as a silent spector. Jay wants Tim to be happy again.

So cut the link, between you and me.

[yanderes-galore]

Can be Platonic/Romantic Yandere Golden Freddy

Sure! Sorry if the formatting is weird, I am writing this on PC and that changed how the fic looks on mobile at times. Also the plot I came up with ended up becoming purely platonic so my bad so I hope that's okay!

Yandere! Platonic! Golden Freddy Concept

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Forced friendship, Supernatural occurrences/ghosts, Hauntings, Manipulation, Possible implied murder.

Golden Freddy is an interesting case.

Unlike the other bots you encounter in the pizzeria, this version of Golden Freddy may not even exist.

In this concept I ended up thinking of Golden Freddy as a spirit.

Just a strange golden suit lurking about while you do your job.

Then disappearing out of your sight.

Honestly in regular FNAF, no AUs, I can only ever see Golden Freddy as a ghost.

A simple ghost stuck in a bad situation... that happens to see the new Night Guard as a new friend.

Unfortunately, being this ghost's friend has consequences as you soon find out.

For the most part, Golden Freddy isn't much of a problem compared to everything else you're most likely going through.

You already have a lot going on, you have bills to pay and are struggling to stay awake.

Meanwhile Golden Freddy patiently watches you from the darkness.

Honestly Golden Freddy is quite shy to show himself fully to you.

As said before, you'll see him from the corner of your eye but he quickly disappears afterwards.

Golden Freddy seems like he'd be the silent stalker type.

He isn't entirely hostile and prefers to just lurk.

At times you think you only see him in the Pizzeria, only to learn later you swear you see him in your house.

But... it's all just a trick of your mind, right?

There's no way there's an actual ghost after you... right?

Golden Freddy attaches himself to you for company.

You'll be doing your work, only to feel a presence around you.

His obsession is all very subtle.

You'll swear you're going crazy before you manage to grasp what's going on.

You second guess yourself, always going back to that yellow bear that keeps appearing.

Golden Freddy may even see your reactions as part of some sort of game.

He likes to appear around you just to see you freak out.

Yet soon he'll reveal himself to soothe you.

Golden Freddy doesn't want to drive his new friend off after all....

You'll always feel his presence but rarely actually shows himself.

When you finally see him he just looks like a recolored version of a Freddy suit.

Yet you can tell by all the floating and the translucence that he's something else entirely.

I'd imagine Golden Freddy doesn't say much, either.

He mostly stays quiet and watches you.

There's times he'll stay visible and watch you look at cameras.

Honestly showing him the tablet makes him curious.

Almost like a child... which disturbs you greatly.

You may even find yourself idly talking to the ghost, another fact that confuses you.

How are you accepting this all so quickly?

Is it due to the ghost's influence?

You hate that he follows you home, yet find yourself accepting it.

It's almost like Golden Freddy is making you accept his presence.

You fear there's nothing you can do about it.

While Golden Freddy appears rather docile and friendly, that most likely changes when they realize you could leave him.

Maybe he fear you'll forget him.

Maybe he just doesn't want you to leave the Pizzeria.

It could be just as simple as Golden Freddy wanting you to be more like him.

By the time you're used to the ghost and his attachment... it's already too late.

The next step is to make sure you never leave him as you're his best friend...

Which may sadly include your inevitable demise.

[ya-killin-me-smalls]

tell me about doc catholic priest au >+]

rubbing my evil little hands together

okay okay so Doc is a priest under Jebediah, who is the bishop of the church he operates at. The Machine is more or less god and Phobos is more or less Jesus and aside from that it's the classic Gothic style catholicism

anyway Doc is a priest who's been down on his luck, lost his family when he was much younger, and has been with the church just to try and find some sort of purpose in life. he's sent to perform an exorcism on a kid who's been plagued by evil spirits, and that goes fine and dandy except he himself ends up haunted by Hank, Deimos, and Sanford, who are demons

Hank doesn't tend to manifest to the point where he can be seen, but when he does it's always as a dark shadowy figure and never a fully formed person. he's the most likely the physically lash out and throw things or even attack Doc to get his way, but he's seen a lot less frequently than the other two

Deimos and Sanford have a more passive influence over his thoughts and emotions but they do manifest pretty often. Sanford is the only one that other people are able to see, only because he lets them. he spends the first few weeks masquerading as a church member, "attends" mass, and even goes to confession with Doc. his angle is to get to know him on a more personal level, gain his trust, and increase his own influence

Deimos is one of those spirits that gains more power at night and causes a lot of sleep disturbances/paralysis/nightmares. during the day he'll manifest quite often and just be a nuisance, give the most unhelpful/violent suggestions to solving problems, and sometimes throw things or write on the walls both in an effort to make Doc feel like he's losing his mind and make him look like he's losing his mind since he's the only one who can see Deimos and Hank (when he's around that is)

the goal isn't necessarily corruption. Doc's soul is plenty stained on its own. sure he picks back up drinking because of them and yeah he'll wake up with scratches on his body from Hank, but really he just serves as an anchor to reality for them to operate off of. Hank isn't usually around because he's somewhere else doing demon shit and he needs the new meat suit to stay alive and un-exorcised unlike the last one. if people around town start mysteriously dying or noisy neighbors end up hospitalizing or Doc's landlord suffers from a nightmare-induced mental breakdown after trying to raise the rent? well that's no one's business

sometimes a guy is just three other guys inside one guy. that's basically what I've got for now but I do wanna flesh this one out more

[yuri-is-online]

If the 500 followers event is still open, would be alright to ask for prompt 15 with Ortho? Platonic obviously! I just think the robot boy deserves some more love. Thanks! <3

15. Formal balls weren't a thing in your world so you have been hiding in this strategically chosen corner to avoiding having to step on anyone's toes. Unfortunately someone really, really, REALLY, wants to dance with you and has managed to track you down AGAIN.

I was surprised to get Ortho requests this event since I haven't exactly written anything specifically dedicated to him but he is such a good character. He deserves all the love and friendship in the world, and this prompt suits him well given how he acts with Idia.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, Ortho is meant to be post Ch. 6, Yuu is sort of an introvert and a bit self depreciating, that's ok Ortho is here to give some encouragement! The other event requests can be found on my masterlist here.

This had been a mistake.

As much as you liked looking out on the fantastic scenery in front of you, it is all extremely overwhelming. Almost like it's wasted on you, the magical scenery is simultaneously completely comprehensible and extremely unnatural. You've seen pictures of Masquerade balls, seen them used in anime, listened to songs, and thought long and hard about just what it was you would do if you ever magically got invited to one. And now that you actually have been you are faced with the grim reality that no, just because everyone is wearing a mask that doesn't mean that you will suddenly overcome your distaste for crowds or figure out how to dance.

"Yuu!" Now if only you could make a certain someone agree. "There you are! You're getting better at this hiding thing." Ortho floats to keep himself at eye level with you, cheeky toothy smile freed for the special occasion.

"Really?" You groan, maybe you can bargain your way out of this one.

"Ha ha no." Ortho laughs, moving to cut you off from your exit and repeats the same question that's been haunting you all night. "Please dance with me Prefect! It'll be a bunch of fun."

"Don't wanna." You huff in an all too familiar way to Ortho, but he is surprised to find himself at a bit of a loss. Idia is Idia, and you are Yuu, his data is lacking on what to suggest to get you to agree to his request. It's a bit exciting actually, like playing an RPG blind and still trying to get a good end with your favorite companion.

[Ortho: Persuasion] "But I really want to dance with you, Prefect." He makes sure to sag his joints just enough to invoke sympathy without seeming like he is about to throw a tantrum. It seems to sort of work, but not in the way he really wants it to. You just look like you feel horrible for disappointing him and uncomfortable.

"I'm really sorry Ortho." you try to keep your breathing steady, flustered between seriously considering his request (there's no pressure if you are just dancing with a friend, right?) and still trying to plan your out. "But I am just not good at formal stuff like this at all, we don't have big parties like this in my world anymore. And even when there were dances in my world it's not like I ever got invites to any of them." Maybe that's the real reason you don't want to go out onto the floor, not that you can't dance. Deuce certainly isn't able to do things properly no matter how hard he is trying, and Ace is not even doing that. But you still don't quite feel like you... belong here, not after how big of a deal Crowley made out of your invitation being something he was "obliged" to give. "And I don't even know how to dance! I'll just step on everyone's feet and make things awkward."

"Hm, well then that's all the more reason for you to dance with me!" Ortho is... laughing? Not in a mean spirited way, but kindly. It's a soothing tone somehow, and as he mock bows you don't feel like he is intending on making you the butt of a joke at all. "I don't have any toes for you to step on, and if anyone you are uncomfortable with tries to make you dance I can just blow them up with my lasers."

"Uh maybe don't do that?" You gingerly take his hand and let the floating boy spin you around in a dance that's more similar to two children on a playground than a proper ballroom sway, but between just how happy he is and how quickly your other friends join in you cannot bring yourself to remain embarrassed for long.

"That's right prefect," Ortho whispers when he notices you have finally calmed down, "you aren't in your world anymore. And sometimes that probably sucks but tonight? It means that you are very much invited to the ball. Awesome right?!" He means that last bit about himself as much as he does you, you suppose but that doesn't make it any less true. Tonight, you are very much exactly welcome and where everyone wants you to be.

[akechi-stole-my-heart]

no. 1 thing people get wrong about sumi? (Or royal trio in general)

i mean honestly that she's terribly written. she's not. there are flaws because of the time constraints of third sem being so short, and i do have issues with her writing, but people complain so much about things that aren't issues or were the entire point. for example, the first half of her confidant being boring. she's supposed to feel like half a person, like a mask, like there's something Off, that there's more to her she's keeping secret.

something that haunts me is how little she talks about her dead sister, which feels like should be the key to her character arc and her slump--she mentions her once, in passing, and doesn't get very upset about the fact that her sister and best friend is dead! but the thing is, sumire thinks she is the one who died, and so she doesn't mourn herself. because of course kasumi wouldn't care. no one would care if sumire died. anyway, my point is, before you find out she's sumire, the way the narrative completely brushes over the fact that her sister died just months ago feels like missed potential. but it's actually entirely intentional. that's how the whole first half of her confidant is.

oh here are a couple other things about sumi that i've seen people be wrong about in the past. there was a post going around about how sumire should have been allowed to be more angry and go apeshit about being herself and allowed to be depressed for a while and like i just don't understand that? did we play the same game??

sumire DOES get angry she DOES go apeshit she LITERALLY TRIES TO KILL YOU so she can remain kasumi. after you defeat her she refuses to talk to you for days and for the next couple ranks she's visibly upset and depressed. sumire's arc is about recovery. they had to show her getting better in the short amount of time they had, so she couldn't continue to be dark and depressed beyond those couple ranks, but it is there.

and like. sumire wouldn't get angrier or darker than she does, because she's far too respectful? it's not in character for her to be rude or angry beyond how she already is in the game. and on top of that, she idolizes the protag. so she's not angry with him, she's angry at herself for failing him by refusing to face the truth.

the other thing is the take that cendrillon in her entirety represents sumire, while cendrillon at the ball represents kasumi. which is a really nice idea and i'd love it were it true, but it just...isn't. when sumire awakens to cendrillon the second time, it's kasumi's "spirit" or memory that transforms into the persona. cendrillon is always symbolically tied to kasumi, whether that be sumire's desire to become kasumi, or sumire carrying on the memory of kasumi. and the latter idea is nice, but it doesn't quite work for me without a middle step where sumire embraces that she is herself, without the baggage that is kasumi, first. (which is why i gave her odile in code violet.)

as for royal trio, probably the idea that they're a really boring and overrated trio, which just. isn't true. i get that there is limited content of them, but royal trio is all about the potential. as someone who has written a 100k+ fic about them, trust me. the potential is there and just waiting to be explored.

and this isn't really a royal trio take persay, but the idea that goro doesn't care about sumire, dislikes her, only sees her as a useful teammate and nothing more, or is indifferent to her, is objectively false. seriously. the moments are few and far between, but goro does show that he cares about her. in navi dialogue, one particular moment during the royal trio infiltration that lives rent free in my mind where he seems genuinely concerned for her, even the way he refuses to fight her is in its own strange way an expression of care.

and ofc, most notably when he saves her life after their fight with maruki by stopping her from going after him. "he only sees her as a useful teammate" my ass. if that were true he could have let her kill herself going after maruki and it'd have been nothing to him, because their fight with him was over and her usefulness was moot. but no, he stops her, because her safety matters to him. can you tell i'm insane about that moment? because i am so insane about that moment.