Happy Little Accidents

[irithyllians]

galician inspired haladin clothing ft. hareth, my beloved

[thainperegrinn]

everyone talks about how terrible and tragic it is that théoden’s only child died and yes you’re all right but i don’t think i’ve seen anyone touch upon the shock it would’ve come to éomer.

not only has his cousin died but suddenly he’s been thrust into being the heir to the throne; for his whole life he’s always been the second in line, now he’s suddenly the first, and his uncle’s mind is poisoned and he’s being banished from his own country because he’s trying to do the right thing.

not even a month later and he’s now sitting on the throne. his uncle, the king, had died in battle less than a month after he had become the heir. and now he was rohan’s new king; the beginning of a new line.

it must’ve been incredibly hard on éomer and i don’t think i’ve seen anyone really talk about it

[starspangledmenace]

Me @ the thunderbolts men

[dykekarkat]

something about ronan alone being the one to find his father's body, and something about ronan watching kavinsky die and knowing he's alone again, and something about ronan burying his own corpse without help, and something about ronan being the only one to not have a pov in the first book, and something about how ronan never puts it into words, and something about how adam says "lonesome" and "an army of one" to define his own experiences except it really applies to them both. ronan knowable despite his inherent isolation / lonesomeness because adam is knowable and vice versa. the tamquam alter idem of it all is kind of evil actually.

[percyfraser]

THE PRINCESS BRIDE 1987 — dir. Rob Reiner

[ozzgin]

Everyone warned you that the new place you eyed for purchase was cursed. The realtor hadn't even dared to accompany you for the viewing - he described everything through a video call. I'm not paid enough to step foot into that hellhole, he once told you. The message was loud and clear: whatever haunted those halls was real enough to keep people away.

Oh, you should've listened. The neighbors gazed at the flickering lights with ever-growing pity. A day after moving in, you vanished without a trace, probably lost within the deep bowels of the monstrous home. They could see shadows peering from behind the heavy curtains, yet they knew that any hope was lost.

Unbeknownst to them, however, everything went according to your plans. A haunted place meant you'd be left alone. No curious knocks from the next-door inhabitants, no surprise visits from acquaintances, no persistent attempts to sell you the latest product. At last, you thought, you were at peace. You could be a proper shut-in.

You turn to face the pale ghoul, his crooked limbs resting against the doorframe as he scans your form.

"Shouldn't you answer that," he ponders in a deep, croaked whisper. In the background, your phone buzzes and rings for the second time.

"No, no, I don't do phone calls," you explain. "Gives me anxiety."

"Everyone thinks I murdered you, or something," he whines. "You could at least tell them you're fine."

You shrug and accept the cup of tea he's made you. Let them, you mumble, waving your hand with indifference. One less trouble.

You're an exceptionally pathetic human. Then again, he hasn't had anyone living with him in decades. He most certainly won't complain about finally having a companion, especially one who never leaves his side. He drops himself next to you with a childish snicker.

[ozzgin]

content: gender neutral reader, based on Dredge

You are the town's newest fisherman, following an advert you found in a discarded newspaper. The mayor welcomed you with open arms, yet you could sense the peculiar quietness coming from the rest of the locals.

The lighthouse keeper was the first to clue you in. An old, raggedy woman, she had greeted you in a rather unexpected way: Don't end up like the last one. The waters, she said, harbored monsters beyond your comprehension. You were to do your job and nothing more if you didn't want to succumb to the madness.

Despite the warnings, however, you've somehow never encountered the terrors supposedly lurking the open sea. You've sailed long after sunset, searched the depths of the foggy mangroves, ventured into the narrow passages of the cursed cliffs. There was no colossal serpent, no alien beast whispering forbidden secrets into your ears, no great fish swallowing your humble trawler whole.

That's not to say you haven't witnessed the outcome to these legends. You've stumbled upon fishing boats torn apart by foreign claws, stranded men muttering about a leviathan who will bring forth destruction. You've stared down the basin where every living creature vanishes: enormous tendrils peeking from the depths, faint, glowing eyes observing you with interest.

"Here's the relic you asked for," you say, extending the necklace you dredged out of the dark waters.

The collector inspects it with a smile.

"You haven't encountered any...obstacles, I hope," he suggests.

"None at all. Peaceful as always," you hum, receiving your payment.

With a nod, you leave. The man takes a moment to follow your movements, then turns to an eerie statue decorating his desk; a monstrous creature with many tentacles and eyes alike.

"I still don't get why you've chosen that human," he wonders out loud.

For his Lord to go out of his way, guarding you without rest, ordering the unholy beasts to keep their distance from you...He's certainly never witnessed it before. It almost resembles a doting husband looking after the spouse.

Nonsense. The abyssal fiend would never fall for a mere human like you, most certainly. It couldn't possibly...hmmm. He grimaces at the thought.

[boyd-stevens]

THE OFFICE 4.13 — "Dinner Party"

[ozzgin]

You've been the (un)willing host of a time-traveling knight who somehow ended up in your modern times. Since the fateful encounter he's become rather possessive of your company, yet today seems to be especially bad.

You eye the straw doll with increasing suspicion. As you make your way to the bedroom, you notice the discarded, crumpled scrolls littering the floor. You can't decipher the old writing.

"What's the meaning of this," you demand, stomping towards the massive, armored man.

"I have drafted a will," he confesses theatrically. "My time here is scarce."

"You don't even own anything here. Have you found a way to return?" your voice has a tint of hope to it; could it be that you'll soon have your peace back?

Oh, sweet, innocent (Y/N)! His door only leads to the cruel afterlife. He's been feverish all night, and his throat tightens with each whisper. He's all too familiar with the signs: a deadly disease. Worry not, he'll be departing with a clean conscience. He glances at the clumsily improvised doll - a curse he's learned from an old hag many years ago - and smiles faintly. No other man or woman will ever dare to yearn for you.

He jolts at the unexpected touch of your hand, resting against his hot forehead.

"Ah, you probably have a cold. I'll get you some decongestant from the pharmacy."

Huh?

"Wait, did you...did you think you're dying?"

[ozzgin]

I've done Readers being transported in the past before, but what about the opposite scenario?

Some knight or swordsman who somehow ended up in modern times, and you were the (un)fortunate soul to find him wandering in utter confusion. Was there some Renaissance Fair in town? Did you live next to a medieval convention? After a short exchange you're convinced this man is indeed speaking the truth, and his large weapon isn't just a fancy fake he dangles around for show.

For everyone's safety, you offer your home until whatever time-space aberration brought him here might also take him back to his bloodied battlegrounds. He appreciates your support, perhaps a tad too much.

He follows you around like a lost dog. Becomes strangely possessive of your company, which - in any other circumstance - would count as a cute, jealous display. In this case, however, it involves a massive barbarian who deals with conflict by cracking skulls and swinging the blade.

You've had to stop him from beheading your friendly neighbor who happened to touch your shoulder one moment too long. You can't just kill people like that, you scolded fervently after the incident. Well, why did his hand linger, your time-travelling partner retorted with oratory passion, if he didn't intend to challenge me?

You're starting to believe the ferocious knight isn't as eager to go home as he originally claimed. Didn't he have a kingdom to protect? A war to win? Could be, yet now he's found a different master to serve. You.

[that-gay-jedi]

"All monsters must die bloody, and by a hero's hands, and soon," he says over brunch.

He doesn't think it's a rude thing to say in front of a monster. There are no rude things to say to monsters, only rude things monsters say.

"Don't worry," she says between bites, "You're one of the good ones."

"But I am still a monster," I do not say. I do not say that I love my claws and teeth, my prehensile shadow and my glowing eyes. That I cannot imagine giving them up even for survival, that to hide my shadow and trim my claws for them makes me feel diminished. In public I cannot say that I do not wish to be human.

They're progressives, this bunch, even if he carries a hero's banner with its proud history and none of them ask him to put it away. They know there are good monsters, monsters who can speak eloquently and hold the fork right, monsters you can be seen with in public. Some of their best friends are monsters.

They do not know the monster who is invited to brunch knows solidarity with the monster who is not. Believes and understands the monster who is not invited more than the human who does the inviting.

"Isn't that a little harsh?" says a third human, and I have not forgotten I am outnumbered. "We have ways of killing monsters without blood now, painlessly. And, of course, a monster should be allowed to live if it never growls."

He has never seen me growl. Yet how loudly and endlessly I will, when I'm out of earshot. He's talking about killing monsters who cannot stoop to civility, about mother and brother and lover who were never able to mute themselves like me, and does he not know how small a child who can only growl is?

"To growl is not to kill," I say, and all heads turn toward me. It is one of those rude things monsters say.

[avasillva]

HOWL'S MOVING CASTLE dir. Hayao Miyazaki

[sophsun1]

The Mummy (1999) dir. Stephen Sommers

[g1ngerbeer]

nice pair of characters who trust each other more than anyone else in the whole entire world it would sure be a shame if one of them betrayed that trust for the sake of trying to keep the other alive. it would sure be a shame to love someone so much you destroy them

[g1ngerbeer]

“i need you to live even if it means you never forgive me for this” is an emotion

[ex0skeletal-undead]

Asleep in the Library by Abigail Larson on Instagram

[blackmarketfruitrollups]

"Just kill me, please."

"You know I can't do that, darling."

"Can't, or won't?" She questioned stubbornly, turning on her other side so she couldn't see him. "I don't think you love me anymore."

He blew an amused huff out of his nose before rounding their shared bed to look at her.

"If I didn't love you then I wouldn't put up with how pouty you get when you're sick." He cooed at her. "If I didn't love you then I wouldn't keep Markl from interrupting your naps, or make sure Calcifer saves breakfast for you when you can't walk down the stairs to get it yourself."

He lovingly stroked her hair, brushing it away from her sweaty forehead before planting a kiss on it, making her face pucker.

"Don't do that, you're gonna get sick." She fussed, trying to gently push him away from the bed and yet failing miserably.

"Never stopped me before." He hummed, this time leaving one on her cheek.

"Howl, stop. I mean it."

Disregarding her concern entirely he continued to kiss her cheeks, slowly drawing giggles from her.

"There she is," he smiled, "there's my sweet little wife."

She scrunched her face back up, pretending to be upset again. "You're unbelievable. You don't get to complain about it when you get sick too, you know I tried to warn you."

He grinned at her lovingly, this time kissing her on her lips.

"How could I ever complain about being sick when my pretty wife is the best nurse ever?"

[raidesart]

New painting of Howl! Which of these versions do you prefer? ^^