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jinmukangwrites · 4 years

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Listen this is crackhead territory but I fucking love the idea that pre-crisis Jason Todd /hated/ the costumes and wore them only out of spite. Youre welcome to pick between the green scaley panties or the deadass circus getup he gets from Dicks old stuff somewhere in the detective comics lmao they're both unique atrocities (Also ily Jinnie

"Jaylad, what are you wearing?"

Jason looks down at his clothes, raising his eyebrows dramatically like he doesn't see anything... wrong.

Jason looks back up at Bruce, eyes wide and incredibly innocent. Too innocent. Jason is definitely up to something, and he's definitely pretending like he isn't. "Um, clothes?" Jason says. "Gee, B, I thought you were a detective."

Bruce stares at Jason, trying to figure out what in the world would posses his newest kid to want to go out into town in a nice dress shirt and tie paired with none other than... bootie shorts. with holes in them. Pockets poking out through the bottom hems like Jason cut them with a dull pair of scissors but left the pockets intact just to make them look even more rediculous.

"Master Jason, won't you be cold?" Alfred asks, not sounding as bothered as he should be.

Jason grins and shakes his head. "Nope! I have warm blood."

Bruce resists rubbing his jaw with his hand in exasperation. "Jason, why are you wearing those... Shorts?"

"Oh!" Jason gasps and hits his forehead like he's just realized he's forgotten something. "You meant these? You see, Bruce, I've found I really like super short shorts! My legs feel so free, and I've decided I'm never going to wear long pants again—I cut all of them!"

"Good for you, Master Jason."

Bruce looks at Alfred with betrayal before returning his gaze towards the atrocity that is Jason Todd. He's definitely up to something. But Bruce won't fall for it. He takes a calming breath and turns towards the door. "Fine then," he says.

"Yeah, fine," Jason shoots back. And it's left at that as the three of them leave the manor into the city for a rare family dinner out.

-o-o-o-o-

It takes Dick a moment to realize what's going on. At first he didn't even realize that something was going on, in fact it was the staring from the other diners that called Dick's attention to it.

Jason is sitting at the table, one leg stubbornly resting on the wooden table and victoriously staying there even as Bruce keeps trying to knock it off. Which, well, isn't exactly out of character for Jason. The kid is persistent and likes to kick his feet up onto things. It's just, well, he's not exactly wearing the most appropriate pair of pants in the world for that kind of position.

"Ahh, feel the breeze on my thighs!" Jason says loudly halfway into dinner and Bruce almost chokes on his lobster. The woman at another table isn't so lucky as she quite literally launches a stream of wine from her mouth in a coughing fit. "My legs are so fr- mph!

Bruce landed his mouth over Jason's mouth just in time to prevent the boy from finishing the sentence, but the damage is already done. Dick and many more diners in the fancy restaurant are all now painfully aware Jason if hardly wearing any pants and is rather eager to verbalizes that he's hardly wearing any pants.

The manager is standing across the floor of the restaurant, looking painfully caught between asking a disruptive customer to leave and asking Bruce Wayne to leave.

After a few more loud comments from Jason, Bruce decides to see him and Jason out himself, head in his hands all the way until Dick watches them drive away.

Dick shrugs and puts all the doggie bags from their meal in the passenger seat of his car, knowing that Jason must be trying to get something from Bruce, and it must be important if public humiliation is his strategy.

He makes bets with himself on the way back to Blüdhaven of what it could possibly be about.

He thinks he has a good idea. And he wonders how long it will take for Batman to cave.

It only takes a week.

-o-o-o-o-

It was pure chance Tim managed to grab a picture of it. His parents were out—again—and he was lucky enough that the newest nanny was a bit of a ditz so she didn't even notice him sneak out with his new camera.

Gotham is a huge city, but it's a cold night which means the Dynamic Duo is more likely to start at the Narrows tonight rather than anywhere else in the city. Get the worst of it done to warm yourself up, and then deal with the rest of the city after you've already worked up a sweat.

But still, it was still just a bunch of luck that Tim happened to be staking out on the fire escape hanging over the exact alley Batman and Robin eventually end up in.

He notices quickly that Batman is annoyed about something, and Robin is babbling loud enough to be obviously proud of something. Perhaps the same something.

It's just chance that a fly runs into an electric bug zapper at the same time Tim takes his picture of the two of them, allowing just enough light for just enough time for his camera to get just the right kind of lighting for the photo. Batman and Robin quickly move on and Tim quickly runs home before the nanny notices him gone.

She doesn't notice him gone. He grabs a bowl of ice cream and retreats to his room to look at the pictures he's captured tonight.

And, because a whole lot of luck, Tim finds himself being the first to know about the costume change, besides the criminals who found themselves at the wrong end of the bat-fist tonight of course.

He stares at the picture for a long time, thrown off.

"Huh," Tim says quietly to himself, "Robin's wearing pants now. Nice."

-o-o-o-o-

If Jason knew beforehand that jacking the batmobile's tires, hitting Batman with a tire iron, and calling him a big boob would not only land him the position of Robin, but the costume as well, Jason would have hit the jerk a little harder.

But that's okay now. It took some time, but he finally has a decent pair of pants to fight in now.

And besides, it was totally worth it to watch Bruce look halfway dead from embarrassment for an entire week until finally cornering Jason and begging him to wear proper pants.

Jason did, for a condition.

He smiles, cherishing the image Bruce's horrified face every time Jason mentioned how good the breeze felt on his exposed legs.

Yeah. It was so worth it.

#jason todd #bruce wayne #red hood #batman #tim drake #red robin dc #drake #dick Grayson #Nightwing #alfred pennyworth #batman comics #dc comics #jin writes #ask #fan fiction #fanfiction

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theartofbeinganeldar · 4 years

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The Art of Being An Eldar: Legolas x Reader Chapter 3

Summary: You, a fantasy-loving LARPing human from Earth, got dropped into a fantasy land that seems familiar to you, but you had no recollection of it. Lord Fabulous Elvenking gave you three days to find the portal that would take you home with the aide of Blue-Eyes and a host of Elves, but what you found instead was the portal was closed for another thousand years. On the way back, you saved Legolas's life, prompting Thranduil to grant you freedom, and after, you finally realized where you were; Middle-Earth. Thranduil summons the council, which is made up of powerful wizards and Elves, to decide what should be done with you...

Chapter No.: Chapter 3

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color

Notes: I think Pippin's song matches the reader's situation very much, which is why I use it so often. I mean, your character fell from everything they know, their "home," and now they can't go back, but now they have this whole magical world and life ahead of them... Grief and sorrow, but things to look forward to in the future.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, The fucking Silmarillion, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused, Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir lives, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words.

Rating: Teen (14+) for now

When you woke up, you found yourself blinded by a stupidly bright light that singed your retinas off. "What the hell?" You shielded your eyes as you tried to find the source.

Oh.

It was Thranduil, and beside him, Legolas, the two so bright they could be hung on your porch as bug-zappers.

Ohhhh...

You were in Middle-Earth. Right. Without any memory of it except for bits and pieces. You did remember that you'd watched the movies so many times that you could've recited each line in your sleep and then some, but you couldn't remember anything but what pieces you randomly dreamed of or remembered, which were already starting to fade.

"Hi. Can I help you with something in my half-starved state?"

Blue-Eyes desperately fought a smirk. Thranduil was less impressed. "My son tells me you lost consciousness because of a lack of sustenance. What sort of repayment is that for my favor to you, may I ask?"

You cocked an eyebrow. "Excuse the fuck outta you, Thrandy, but I just learned about a week and a half ago I'd never see my family again. Forgive me if I got upset."

Blue-Eyes turned his head away, trying really hard not to laugh...

"Also," You went on with a forced cocky smile, "I just learned that I'm in Middle-Earth. Where I come from, all this-- the palace, the land, even your fancy Elven toilets-- were created by some old guy called J. R. R. Tolkien, collectively referred to as 'Jrrt.' Now, I don't remember a goddamn thing except for bits and pieces of dialogue and song, even though I knew the stories by heart."

Thranduil and Blue-Eyes-- who was no longer trying not to laugh-- eyed each other suspiciously. "You knew of this place in your world?"

You nodded. "It's very well-known. But, everybody thinks it's fiction. Unaccesible. And be glad about that, too, because if there were a well-known way to get here, there'd be lots of war, new diseases, and this place would be turned to shit, too."

Thranduil stared at you for a minute, before abruptly turning to Legolas. "Son, I am off to the throne room. I shall summon the council at once."

You waited until he left to ask what that meant.

Blue-Eyes smiled slightly. "Meaning, he is not quite certain what should be done with you. The council is made up of some of the oldest and wisest of Middle-Earth, including the wizards and those of my kin, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn of Lothlorien, and Elrond Half-Elven of Rivendell. Do any of those names sound familiar to you?"

You shrugged. "It doesn't matter if they sound familiar or not. I never remember what anybody looks like. I just get an eerie sense of deja vu."

Blue-Eyes raised an eyebrow. "Deja... Vu?"

You sat up more, rolling your eyes. "It means having a sense of familiarity, like, really strongly. Whatever. Tell me who the wizards are."

Blue-Eyes sat at the end of your bed. "The most powerful of the wizards is Saruman the White, who resides in Isengard, on the edge of Fangorn Forest and the Gap of Rohan. The second is Mithrandir, who is most commonly known as Gandalf the Gray by most folk. The third is the much less-known-of and reclusive Radagast the Brown, but I doubt my father will request his presence; he dislikes his excessive behavior." He raised an eyebrow. "Have you heard of them?"

You nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah. So if I'm an Elf, do I like, have to learn how to act like an Elf, or should you let these really important people decide what to do after they've seen who I am?"

"The latter," Blue-Eyes specified, "But it would still be beneficial to learn Elvish. It should take them quite awhile to arrive; between now and then, you should learn as much of it as possible, after I've given you a tour of Mirkwood."

You made a wheel-like motion with your hands. "After I've eaten and taken a bath, I know."

Blue-Eyes patted your leg. A jolt of electricity shot from where he touched you. What the hell? "Good," He stood and started to leave the room. "I will leave you to your own; there is food on the nightstand, and after, a bath across the bridge there," He pointed, and as you looked across the way seen Elves.

Bathing.

Blushing, you looked to Blue-Eyes wildly. "I-I'm supposed to take a bath with other people."

Blue-Eyes frowned in confusion. "Do you not, from your world?"

"Um, no. We all bathe alone. Where I come from, one's own body is considered... Private, to everybody except your doctor or significant other."

"Oh, I see. I could have a private bath prepared for you, if you wish for it," He answered with a smile. "Even here, we may want to bathe on our own to relax. It would not be a problem." He sneered down at you. "I would not want you bathing in the shared springs anyway. You'd dirty the whole lot of them."

With a very childish glare, you stuck your tongue out at him, causing him to have the oddest look he'd had yet. You'd noticed something about him; he had the unique ability to create a range of dynamically comical expressions. "What are you doing?"

You took up a dramatically serious tone. "I am expressing the 'fuck you' gesture in an immature and childish manner used worldwide, even among the youngest." With that, you stuck your tongue out again.

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Very well, then, Sairen, your bath will be ready for you when you are finished with your meal. I will send someone for you in an hour, if that suits you."

"That suits me perfectly fine, but I beg your fucking pardon, was that 'fuck you' in Elvish?"

Legolas grinned. "Not at all, mellon. It means 'fiery' in our tongue."

"Okay." A wry smile spread across your face. "That I can deal with. But what does 'melon' mean? Both you and Tauriel have called me that so far."

Legolas smiled as he began to close the double-doors, though what they did to block you when the room had only two-foot tall walls, you had no idea. "Mellon. It means, 'my friend.'"

A warm feeling blossomed in your chest as he smiled-- for once, genuinely-- at you. You found yourself smiling back as he closed your doors. When he was gone, your smile toned down a bit, and you took a long, deep breath.

You were still upset. Very. On the inside, you felt torn to pieces. You figured it would be a long, long time before you grief lessened, if it ever did. But now that you knew where you were... It was different. You were sure of something. Where you were, and the fact that the Firemoon Portal would only open every thousand years. If you went back then, you'd already be connected to this world, and everyone in it. If time passed the same, your family would be gone, and you'd be mortal again, without a way to wait for the portal to reopen so that you could return to your new friends here.

But... You knew your family. They'd never forget you, and never stop grieving your loss. But, if they thought you might be somewhere better than Earth, and there was no way back... They'd want you to be happy. They'd want you to make a new life. They wouldn't want you to waste your life starving yourself.

You'd miss them... More than anything...

But for now...

You moved the silver platter on your nightstand to your lap, and started eating.

Home is behind...

The world ahead...

And there are many paths to tread...

***

"No, no," Tauriel corrected you. "Mae govannen."

"Mae govAHnnen."

Tauriel bit back an exasperated sigh. "Well... You're close enough."

You'd been in Mirkwood for nearly a month now, not counting the days of your imprisonment and searching for the portal. You wondered what made Thranduil (Who you still called 'Lord Fabulous' on occassion.) release you and treat you as an Elf, and as it turns out, it was Blue-Eyes himself.

Speaking of, you hadn't seen him in days... He kind of... Disappeared. There was still talk of him, and no one seemed to be worried, so you weren't; for Elves that lived forever, you bet anything that he had princely exploring and regular adventuring to do to keep him occupied.

Around the time he left, Tauriel approached you and asked if you knew any Elvish. Aside from sairen and mellon, you knew less than zero. Apparently, it was considered good Elven manners to at least speak a greeting to guests in their own language, despite what Leggy had said. Meaning, to different members of the council, you had to speak a greeting in Quenyan-- which was different from Sindarin, the most common Elvish language-- Common, and Sindarin. You'd memorized the lines, but it was the pronunciation that really befuddled your non-billingual ass.

Now, you'd pretty much gotten the Quenyan greeting: Mae govannen. It meant well met or something along those lines, but you had to add Lord Elrond Half-Elven of Rivendell. I am at your service. Which was much longer and much more complicated. All in all, it pretty much came out to, Mae govannen, Cundo Elrond Peresta-Elda mi Arcimbele. Nanye ketya veume.

English (Common.) was equally as long: Greetings, Gandalf the Gray, Mithrandir, and Saruman the White of Isengard. Welcome to these halls. I am at your service as well, should you need it.

And lastly, to Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, you had to say the most: And ana lye, Heri Galadriel and Cundo Celeborn, elen sila lumenn omentielvo. Nanye aistana et ketya toled.

And to you, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, a star shines upon the hour of our meeting. I am blessed from your coming.

It was all a mouthful. A regal, elegant mouthful, but a mouthful that your tongue had trouble forming. In addition to all the greetings, you had to address them each in order; first Elrond, then the wizards, then Galadriel and Celeborn at once.

They'd arrived a few days ago, but you hadn't actually been summoned yet. You wondered what Thranduil had told them about you so far. He seemed like the type to exaggerate and make shit up: They're nothing but an abomination! They almost killed Legolas! They tried to kill me! They're dangerous and should be restrained! They toilet-papered my throne room!

The elaborate horns blowing signaled something evidently important; Tauriel's face lit up. "Mellon, it is Legolas! He has returned!"

Despite yourself, your heart jumped like a schoolgirl's. Blue-Eyes was back! "Really?! How do I look? Does it look like I've been taking care of myself?" Legolas would kill you if you weren't. Over the weeks, the blue hair dye had left your hair, returning it to its [h/c] color, even if you did still spike it up-- you'd been an outcast your whole life, so having short spiky hair when everybody else had long, flowing hair made you feel at home. You were dressed in dark browns, nearly blacks, in an outfit very similar to a tunic over leggings, knee-high boots, and all finished up with a long jacket, closed with Elven buckles.

"You look fine, [Y/N]," Tauriel assured you absentmindedly, and the two of you trotted down the many, many stairs and bridges to get to the massive front doors of the palace.

Thranduil and a host of other Elves were greeting Legolas, who looked as if he'd been in Sparkle Land for the last couple weeks. His clothes were in prestine condition. His hair was perfectly plaited away from his face. He wore a faint smile, as if whatever he'd been doing hadn't been stressful at all.

You and Tauriel arrived just as Thranduil finished speaking. "And you failed to locate them?"

Legolas held himself regally. "My apologies, my king. It will not happen again."

Thranduil glared down at him. "I should hope not. You will leave again in three days' time, after you have properly greeted our guests." As Thranduil spun on his heel to leave, Blue-Eyes bowed, rising up again as he seen you and Tauriel.

"Tauriel," He said, his face lighting up. She bowed slightly; apparently Elves didn't hug. He grinned snarkily when he seen you. "And [Y/N]. Last I saw you, your hair was strangely sky-hued."

You scoffed. "You can't even say sky-colored? You have to say sky-hued? Stupid Elves and their fancy ways. Good to see ya anyway, Blue-Eyes, even if you're a priss."

"I believe you mean prince."

You laughed, but it faded when he turned to Tauriel and started speaking in Elvish. He lead her away, talking, leaving you on your own. Your face fell. You wanted to tell him that you knew some greetings. You wanted to say you wanted to go with him when he left again. And the fact that you were already alone here only amplified the feeling of... Jealousy? Disappointment?

You watched them leave for a minute, before deciding you'd take a walk in the Mirkwood-- maybe it'd clear your mind. You nearly rammed into an Elf in turning around. "Whoops."

"Nothing to apologize for," the Elf said; thankfully, they'd caught on to Earth slang and understood you most of the time, instead of just assuming you were insulting them. "Thranduil Elvenking has summoned you to his councilroom. The council awaits you."

Your mouth went dry. All the feelings about Legolas ignoring you vanished in an instant. Oh shit. "I-I don't know where that is. You'll take me there, right?"

"Of course," Said the Elf, and lead the way through the twisting halls. He stopped before the one room of the palace that was actually sealed off from the rest besides the dungeons, with doors almost as big as the ones that lead out of the palace. "Here you are. They're waiting for you." He smiled slightly. "A word of advice for the introductions: let King Thranduil introduce you to them before you say your greetings." You bowed slightly in the Elven way as you thanked him.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't nervous as hell. Meeting a bunch of people, really important people... You'd met some important people before: soldiers were the main ones you'd met, aside from a couple of astronauts. Other than that...

Taking a hugely amplified deep breath, you opened the door.

Inside was a wide winding staircase lit by gorgeously-crafted Elven wall sconces of stained glass and copper metalwork shaped into vines. Every step seemed to echo, and when you reached the top of the staircase, your breath was ripped from you. It was a pavilion. A pavilion in the one place you loved above all else: the sky.

Rails kept anybody from falling off, and it was roofed, so that you could come up here even in the rain. Birds chirped melodiously, and from here, you felt as if you could see all of Middle-Earth. Behind you was a huge mountain range-- you'd never seen mountains before. They were beautiful, snow-capped, and gigantic; the Misty Mountains, obviously. All around you, stretching as far as you could see south and a long way east and west and north, was the Mirkwood, and to the west and north were vast plains, hills, and valleys. Leaves, gold and copper, swirled around the pavilion, giving it an ethereal look. To the west, where you were facing, was a silver lake, wide and glittering in the midday sun. Standing tall and proud beside it was Erebor, home to the King Under the Mountain; currently, Thror. You didn't know why that name seemed so important, though.

You must've turned around in at least a dozen three-sixties, trying to take in what you were seeing. Even if you didn't remember most of it, here you were. You were seeing it, for real and for true, in person, in the home of one of the most revered Elves of Middle-Earth. It seemed unreal, like at any moment, you'd wake up.

A bird, queerly tame, flitted up by your face and up into the rafters; she carried food for her young, and you watched them with a smile, still in disbelief of the views.

A long sigh snapped you out of your trance. Shit. Thranduil waved at you absentmindedly. "Are you daft, vermin? I just introduced you to the council."

"O-oh--"

"Now, now, Thranduil," A wizard chuckled warmly; he wore blue and gray robes, with an immense beard and long hair. Gandalf. "If they really are of another world, then they are obviously stunned by the land. Have you not shown them their new home properly?"

Thranduil nobly facepalmed.

Meanwhile, you realized that it wasn't just Gandalf sitting there smoking his pipe.

Another wizard, this one with long, straight white hair and an equally perfect white beard, in blinding white robes with a white staff: Saruman the White. You didn't know why you got bad vibes from this guy. Beside him sat another Elf, casually, an ankle on his knee and an elbow resting on his higher leg to hold up his head with two fingers. He wore robes of brown and purple, and his long brown hair was held back with a silver Elvish circlet. That had to be Elrond; he looked amused, so you felt kind of relieved. On his left sat a guy who practically glowed, with long blonde hair and white and blue robes. Celeborn. Standing off to the side, with a kind smile like Gandalf, in a billowy white dress with a beautiful Elven circlet made of fine chains and teardrop jewels was a woman, a she-Elf, putting off wisdom-vibes stronger than Gandalf's. Her curling golden hair went well past her waist, and she held herself regally. Out of everyone in this room, she seemed to be the oldest, and the most knowledgeable.

Your Elvish greetings flew right out of your head for a minute, before Thranduil reintroduced you. "This is the council. With us are wizards Saruman the White and Gandalf the Gray, Lord Elrond of House Rivendell, and Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn of Lothlorien. Councilmembers, this is [Y/N], the one who appeared from a portal we knew nothing of-- and if I must repeat this once more, I swear to the Valar, I shall throw you off of this pavilion."

Gandalf actually chuckled at that, as did Elrond, while Celeborn cracked a smile. Galadriel seemed to find this all regally amusing. You bowed like Tauriel had showed you. At least, you'd mastered that part. "Mae govannen, Cundo Elrond Peresta-Elda mi Arcimbele. Nanye ketya veume. Greetings, Gandalf the Gray, Mithrandir, and Saruman the White of Isengard. Welcome to these halls. I am at your service as well, should you need it. And ana lye, Heri Galadriel and Cundo Celeborn, elen sila lumenn omentielvo. Nanye aistana et ketya toled."

Elrond looked impressed. "Well, Thranduil, you have certainly trained them well." Thranduil watched you with wide eyes. He hadn't known of your lessons. Suck it, Lord fucking Fabulous.

Celeborn bowed his head. "Your pronunciation is nearly perfect. Well done, young one. However, I doubt you know much else of our tongue yet, so for your sake, we shall converse in Common, if that suits you."

You almost said, It does. Thanks! But that sounded too disrespectful. "Thank you very much." You smiled, and took a seat when Thranduil waved you to the only empty one aside from Galadriel's.

Saruman started off with a wary tone. "Thranduil tells us you come from another world. Is this true?"

Out of the corner of your eyes, you seen Thranduil roll his eyes. "Yes, sir. I come from a place called Earth."

The councilmembers exchanged glances. "That sounds strikingly similar to Middle-Earth," Said Gandalf, and raised an eyebrow. "Are there any similarities between this world, and yours?"

You shook your head sadly. "Not anymore. My people ruined it. There aren't many places like this anymore."

Saruman stiffened. "Then what happens if your people find the portal? Surely, they will try to ruin this, as well?"

You made a face. "They would, yeah, but my people are also really stupid. It'd take a stupid accident and a lot of chance to fall through that portal again, and Legolas said that it only opened once every time a Firemoon happens."

"Legolas?" Elrond asked, curiously, as if this hadn’t been mentioned before. Of course it hadn’t.

You nodded, unsure of why you suddenly had to fight a flush at the mention of his name. "He helped me find the portal with some of his Elven friends when I first got here. We found writing-- he said it was used before the time of even Gondolin. I don't know when that is; is that a long time ago?"

"Very," Replied Gandalf. "Odd... A portal of that magnitude would have to be created by wizards of some sort, especially at such a time..."

A thought suddenly popped into your head. "Some people think we have magic," You piped up, and all eyes were suddenly on you. "But it never works. Not effectively. Just standard hocus-pocus and the power of suggestion. But hundreds of years ago, there was this really mysterious guy who they say really did have magic, which he used to help others. His name was Merlin; he looked kinda like you, Gandalf. But he was in another country, where I come from; where I was when I fell wasn't anywhere near where he traveled."

Saruman narrowed his bird-like eyes. "Then what relevance is this?"

"Because if there was one wizard like you guys in the past," You pointed out, "Why couldn't there be others? There's so much we don't know about history-- we're more intent on wiping out what we don't understand. What if the wizards traveled between worlds and time? Hell, they could be you guys from the future, and it just hasn't happened yet."

"They have a point, Saruman," Gandalf agreed, much to your relief. You didn't think they'd understand the concept of time travel.

"There is nothing we can do about the portal now," Elrond said decisively. "It is closed, and if we tried to destroy it, we could only do damage. It is an easy enough position to defend; should an army come through, they'd have only one entryway."

"Says who?" Saruman challenged. "There could be other portals we do not know of, some that people have not had the misfortune of falling into yet. How do we know that this invader is not a spy to seek out these portals and prepare them for war?"

You fought a sigh. Damn this small-minded son of a bitch... You tried to think of something smart ass to say, but nothing fit the situation.

"They are not, Saruman." Lady Galadriel's voice was sudden, light, and smooth, like honey. It radiated outward with an undeniable power that could make anybody listen to her. "Their thoughts do not lead there." Shit. I mean crap. I mean dang. Mind reader. "They are afraid, and worried... They miss the family they left behind, but they are willing to make a life here, since they have no way of returning."

You nodded. "My thanks, my lady."

Lady Galadriel bowed her head in response.

"Build a life?" Saruman inspected you carefully from where he sat. "You are nothing but an infiltrator. Why should we allow you a place among the citizens of Middle-Earth?"

"It does not have to be here," Thranduil pointed out, and your heart shot to your ankles. "You have an unfortunate habit of collecting needy strays, Elrond; why don't you take them with you when you return to Rivendell?"

Elrond shot him a glare.

Um, I think the fuck not. Lady Galadriel, tell them I say no! Tell them I want to stay here! You thought of the views, and of... of Blue-Eyes...

"Perhaps they should be isolated," Saruman said. "Somewhere they cannot concoct any mischief. Rohan is quite strict, as Gondor is watchful. Either would suffice. Perhaps centuries of isolation in Isengard itself would keep them in line."

"Maybe the Shire would be good for them," Gandalf said. "The hobbits are quite peaceful little creatures. Then again, if isolation is what we are looking for, then Laketown couldn't be better. Or Dale; the dwarves don't let anyone commit any mischief from Erebor."

I don't want to leave...

"Lothlorien would perhaps be suitable," Celeborn added. "Or, maybe even the mines of Moria. I do not have much love for dwarves, but they would be kind enough to them."

"What," Interrupted Galadriel, "Does the subject of our conversation think of this?"

Silence fell. You took a deep breath. "I... I'd like to stay here." You seen Thranduil's head turn slowly to look at you, and you could hear him thinking, the fuck did you just say? "Please, my lord."

A tense silence fell over the room. Finally, Thranduil sighed. "I do not want you here, invader. You would have to prove your loyalty and skill beyond a shadow of a doubt."

You perked up. "Legolas is going on some super-secret missions, right? Maybe I could go with him. You trust him of all people to tell you the truth about me, right? So maybe I could prove myself then."

Thranduil thought about this for a moment. "Legolas is hunting for the orcs who are trying to overtake our borders. He found them, but he let them escape, even though they were a small group. He is leaving in three days with reinforcements; you may join him."

You almost visibly sagged with relief. Almost.

"However," Thranduil added, "If I find his report unsatisfactory, you will go with one of the councilmembers and leave Mirkwood. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good."

Elrond nodded to you. "You would have a home in Rivendell. It is the last safe haven of the Elves in Middle-Earth." He gave Thranduil a pointed sideways glance. "My people are welcoming and kind. They would be glad to have you." With a slight roll of his eyes, he gestured to Gandalf. "And of course, Mithrandir..."

Gandalf looked excited. "I would take you on my journeys with me, if you so desired. First, I would take you to the Shire. Very nice people, those hobbits. And of course, dwarves would be next."

"I thank you both," You smiled slightly, and you truly were grateful, but... "Then it is settled," Thranduil said authoritively. "Elrond, Gandalf, you are welcome to stay here until Legolas returns."

"I would be grateful," Elrond said, but Gandalf defiantly snorted. "I, dear Elvenking, already have arranged for lodgings in Laketown. Send for me once they arrive, so that I may know what I must do."

You felt buoyed a little. Gandalf didn't one-hundred-percent think you'd fail. And you wouldn't. You'd kick ass. You'd save Blue-Eyes's ass again. You'd come back triumphant, and Thranduil would have to let you stay.

Wouldn't he?

Thranduil left first with Elrond and Celeborn, followed by Gandalf and Saruman closely. Galadriel looked out over to the lake, all shiny and pretty and with her hair billowing majestically. "Why do you wish to stay among those who do not wish for your presence?"

You were stunned by the question. "I-I don't know... I've lived all my life an outcast... The hated one... I've just grown used to it. Being somewhere where people would be nice to me makes me uncomfortable. But there are a couple of people nice to me, and that's enough."

Galadriel was silent for a moment. "You think of him."

"Uhhh..."

"The prince."

You did blush this time. "I-I don't--"

"You are one of the Eldar now, mellon," Galadriel stated slowly. "Eldar only fall in love once. I have known many who have been broken by that which is unrequited. Do not be one of them."

You thought about her words for a second. "I don't love him... I don't even have like a crush on him or anything..." I've only known him for a couple days, overall.

Galadriel nodded slightly into the breeze. "Sieze it, if the chance arises. But if it does not, or if you do not think it will... I advise you to seek for a home elsewhere." You got the gist. If I do fall for him on my mission, and I know it won't go anywhere... Leave, even if I succeed.

Your heart was heavy at that thought, but you knew she was right. "Thank you, my lady."

"You need not thank a friend for giving advice." She smiled at you, and you left the pavilion with a deep bow, trying desperately not to let your heartstrings fall apart.

Tag List:

@tesserphantom @thedragonghostofmordor @hauntedsiriel @reclusive-chicken-nugget @naryamirie @legolasdeserveslove @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @sagabriar @brushwood-souls @taurlel

If anybody wants to be tagged, just let me know!

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writing-for-amusement · 5 years

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Walk, Walk, Fashion Baby

Summary: As a young and successful fashion designer, you approach Joshua Kane to do a collaboration that brings regular and plus size high-end fashion into the world; your plan is to take the world by storm. Harrison Osterfield becomes the one to model one half of your masterpiece, and on the trek to find the perfect model for the other half, you keep coming up empty. After encouragement from Joshua and Harrison, you agree to model it yourself. This means that you’ll work even closer to Harrison, and you’re worried that your budding feelings for him, and his hidden ones for you, could ruin the collection and everything you’ve worked for. But perhaps the road to the fashion storm will also lead to a new power couple in the fashion world.

A/N: Okay, so, bear with me on this one, and the summary admittedly kinda sucks. I love Harrison and I think we don’t have enough of him to read. I am also in the midst of researching the fashion world, and I’m also making some stuff up because I’m the author and I can. I’m thinking this will probably end up shorter than Commission for Confidence, and in a bit of a different direction. Anyway, let me know your thoughts, and if you want to be tagged in this, just let me know!!

Taglist: @pparkerwrites

Disclaimer: I do not personally know Harrison Osterfield, nor do I claim to. I am essentially using his personage and visage to create a completely fictional story. I also don’t claim to know Joshua Kane (though we have had brief interactions on Instagram). That being said, I hope you enjoy this!!!

Word Count: 1602

Chapter One

You strode into the café Joshua Kane had suggested you meet at with your head held high. You could do this, you reminded yourself; you had graduated at the top of your class (on a complete scholarship, no less) from the Fashion Institute of Technology in NYC in fashion design, fabric styling, and fashion business management. You’d also dabbled in many other areas because you had such a passion for all of it.

You interned at Prada for a year as a sophomore, studied abroad at Chanel (and worked there for a year afterwards), and survived a year in-office at Burberry, you reminded yourself. You knew what you were talking about and your idea was something that would (hopefully) appeal to Joshua Kane, as it was up his and your alleys. Still, the prospective meeting had hatched butterflies in your stomach.

Looking around the lazy London café, you saw your prospective business partner in his avant-garde glory, his skateboard propped against the side of his chair. You walked forward and hit the butterflies in your stomach with a bug zapper.

No mercy for the hesitant.

“Hi,” you greeted him, putting your bag back on your shoulder. “I’m Y/N L/N, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

The thin man stood immediately, a bright smile on his face, and kissed your cheek in greeting. “It’s wonderful to meet you. My friends at Burberry have told me that you are a formidable woman, ready to make waves in the world.” He sat back down, and you followed suit. “I admit, I was a little shocked that you wanted to meet with me, especially since you have Dior, Versace, and Chanel knocking on your doors.”

You chuckled slightly and took your sketches out of your bag. “Chanel didn’t want to accept my ‘radical’ ideas and tried to rein me in,” you explained. “I worked there for a year after a semester abroad, and then I moved to Burberry.” When the waitress appeared, you ordered a tea and she nodded, walking off.

“So,” Joshua prompted, “what brings you to me?”

You grinned. “A business proposition.”

“What kind and why?”

“The kind that will make waves, and because I adore your work and the films you create along with them. I believe that we would work beautifully together.”

Joshua tilted his head slightly, regarding you with calm eyes. “What was so radical that had Chanel trying to pull you down?”

With a smirk that said, “You’re not ready,” you opened your sketchbook and handed it to the man. Joshua raised his eyebrows as his eyes poured over the pages. Your tea arrived and he was still analyzing your work, taking his time. Your smirk grew, as did the stomping of your heart, as a smile spread across his face.

That was exactly what you wanted.

“What do you propose?” Joshua asked eagerly, placing your sketchbook on the table and folding his arms over it to regard you evenly.

You sipped your tea nonchalantly, loving the way it soothed your current hurricane of a heart. “I suggest,” you began, putting your cup down, “we create a collection together—I do the more ‘feminine’ designs and you do the more ‘masculine ones’—we produce a film, and we have a runway show in the shop you set up. I want to take the entire industry by storm.”

Joshua raised a brow, though he was smiling. “Oh, darling,” he said as he held his hand out to you, “we’re going to rock the whole world.”

You walked into Joshua’s studio, smiling at the few people that were milling around. Joshua always seemed to have friends around him, though you felt like you could never find him when you needed him. This time, though, you were lucky.

You found Joshua standing next to and talking to a man you recognized as Harrison Osterfield, an actor and model. Harrison was one of the big reasons you wanted to work with Joshua in the first place; you knew that when there was a collection to be done, Joshua loved to have Harrison as a model. He was honestly part of the picture you had in your head when you were designing the collection—your half of it, at least.

“Hello!” you greeted the men brightly, giving a wave.

“Y/N, darling, it’s wonderful to have you here!” Joshua said dramatically.

“I’ve been here before,” you laughed, waving him off.

"Yes,” his eyes gleamed, “but not when Harrison was here!”

“No, that’s true,” you agreed, turning to the tall men next to you.

“Hi, Y/N,” Harrison smiled, making your heart trip slightly, “Joshua has told me so much about you, but he hasn’t let me take a look at your ideas yet.”

“An artist’s ideas are theirs to share, not anyone else’s,” Joshua declared.

“So,” Harrison prompted, turning to you with excitement nearly vibrating off his body, “can I finally see what he’s been raving about?”

You chuckled and nodded, pulling out your sketchbook and opening it. “So, I must admit,” you began thumbing through the pages, “that you were who I thought of when I was imagining this collection.”

“Really?”

You nodded almost shyly.

“Well, I’m honored!” Harrison exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

You tried to stop the heat from gathering in your cheeks, and to draw attention away from your sudden shyness, you held out the sketchbook.

Harrison took it gently and began to flip through the pages. He switched pages gingerly, as if he was terrified of ripping a page and ruining it. If you hadn’t ripped it yet with your clumsiness, you mused to yourself, you doubted he would rip it.

“This is bloody brilliant. Can you take me through your thought process?” Harrison asked with bright, gleaming blue eyes.

“Oh yes, please do,” Joshua echoed.

“Well, Joshua,” you began, tipping your head slightly, “I noticed that you never feature women that are anything but stick thin. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but I thought that your work, along with regular and plus sized women, would be revolutionary in the industry. The people it would affect, just imagine! Men and boys, women and girls and nonconforming people, could be so touched by seeing representations of themselves in such a beautiful and artistic way, one that seemed actually attainable. It took years for me to love myself and my body, and to be honest, sometimes I still don’t.

“But I want to change that for everyone. I’ve always wanted to design and create high end fashion that makes everyone feel included, but I wanted it to include that rule-breaking, avant-garde look that Joshua’s fashion has for the men. So, I began designing, and I realized that I really couldn’t do it without the man himself designing with me, creating the corresponding ‘masculine’ looks to my ‘feminine’ designs.”

“I saw her designs and fell in love,” Joshua continued at your pause. “You really do have a talent for breaking fashion rules that will follow into the common folk with the snap of the fingers. And, well, I think this is also the best way for you to break out into your own fashion company, instead of inside companies and in collaborations.”

You grinned, your eyes wrinkling at the corners, and took your sketchbook from Harrison. “I want this design for the main piece, and the main focal point of the short film,” you said, pointing to your pride and joy. “I’m going to put out adverts for the models, but this one, it has to be perfect.”

“Wait, where’s the masculine one?” Joshua asked, peering over your shoulder. “I saw it the first time, it was perfect.”

You cleared your throat nervously. “Well, I thought that, you know, since we kinda divided it into ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine’ halves, you would want to do the one that goes with this,” you explain. “I-I honestly didn’t know if it was up to par with the rest.”

“Are you kidding? It was amazing, I wanted to wear it!” Joshua reassured you, his eyes wide behind his glasses. “Show Harrison, show him, show him!!”

You chuckled and rolled your eyes, turning to the back of the sketchbook, where you’d tucked the folded papers you’d ripped out of the notebook. Pulling them out and smoothing them down, you handed the papers to Harrison.

The man’s eyes widened almost comically, and his jaw dropped to his ribs. “Y/N,” he breathed, making your mind race wildly, “this is amazing.”

“You both really think so?” you asked nervously.

“Yes!” Harrison and Joshua exclaimed at the same time.

You startled in surprise before barking out a laugh. “So, what should I do, then?”

“Harrison, you have to model that,” Joshua stated seriously. “Y/N, you have to let him model it. Okay? You have to create it and he has model it. Otherwise, our deal is off.”

When you looked in Joshua’s eyes, you saw that he was completely serious. There were no empty threats in his world, not when it came to fashion like this. And there was no teasing glint in his eyes, or a joking quirk to his lips.

“Well, Harrison,” you prompted, turning to him, “would you like to model it for me?”

Harrison’s smile had your heart galloping so fast you feared it would shoot out your mouth and into the stratosphere. “I would be honored. I look forward to working closely with you, Y/N, it is going to be one hell of a journey.”

Yes, you thought to yourself, if you keep smiling and looking at me like that, it will be.

#harrison osterfield x plus size reader #harrison osterfield x reader #reader insert #fashion designer reader #walk walk fashion baby fic #please enjoy and let me know what you think!!!

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bugzappercomics · 1 year

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This week's Bug Zapper comic--

#kids webcomic #graphic novels #graphic novels for kids #kids graphic novel series #comics for kids #kid friendly comics #bug zapper comics #kids comics #children's comics #kids graphic novels #webcomics for kids #comic books for kids #graphic novels for 1st graders #graphic novels for 2nd graders #graphic novels for 6 year olds #superhero graphic novels for kids

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shadow-emerald-gold · 5 years

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My Heart (Michael Langdon x Reader)

I’m just going to slip right in and leave this here. Nothing like some good Antichrist in the morning to go with your coffee- especially a dramatic icon like Michael.

This takes place during the early weeks of the apocalypse where Michael is feeling less than fulfilled about his achievement. So, he decides to talk to his father in an attempt to gain answers about how he feels.

Being the child of Satan sounds like a vague plot device that horror movies and books have no issue exploiting.

However, it was reality for a young man named Michael Langdon who had successfully brought about the destruction of the world without an instruction manual. Everything had so perfectly fallen into place that it felt too much like a daydream to the son of Satan. It was a wonderful feeling to have single-handedly destroy the very empire of man. People either bowed before him, begged before him or died before him and it was all at the flick of his hands. Michael Langdon was the master of his own destiny and that played on repeat in his head for weeks until it began to wear off…

The Sanctuary was a terribly boring place in Michael’s opinion. He watched his father’s followers shuffle about the halls, preparing for the new world governed by the Antichrist’s plans, all without acknowledging that he was there. The young man had received no new commands from his father nor was there really a need to rush. The world had ended. Big whoop. What now? Michael had to wait for the dust to settle so he could start toying with humanity again, but it was torture to be patient. At times, he would sit in his room and watch the fire as his slender fingers weaved through his longer hair. Ms Mead had suggested reading a book, so he read every one in the small library. He even read over the business files that had been kept for future reference. The Antichrist practiced his power, often exerting it over the servant staff, but that soon grew tiresome when he realised that there was no rival to challenge him. It also frightened away the maids from cleaning his quarters.

It was his birthday when the deafening silence that was hollowing out his bones finally broke him. Michael snapped as easily as a twig as a voice in the back of his mind simply whispered,��I’m lonely.’

How pitiful, he thought immediately after, the destroyer of man is lonely.

He did not argue however, his heart aching as if it were being clenched between two hands. What was the point of denying it? Only the fire will ever know his true feelings that were locked away in some childish prison tucked nicely behind all of his memories.

“You look more miserable each and every day,” Mead chuckled from the threshold of the door, “what ever happened to that perky son of Satan?”

He waved her comment off, mumbling something under his breath before turning to her. She held a black box that was tied up professionally with red ribbon. It was as if she had managed to find a retail store after the whole apocalypse that was still open. Michael smiled slightly as she came closer and placed it down on the coffee table before him.

“Happy Birthday, Michael.”

The box was opened in seconds and in it was a striking, deep red coat that was weaved with the embers of Hell. Soft to the touch and so richly designed, the Antichrist held it up before slipping it on.

“Perfect,” Mead beamed, adjusting the shoulders, “do you like it?”

“I love it,” he replied keenly.

“Hopefully this perk you up a bit. The others are getting a tad worried that you might be conspiring against them.”

Michael laughed quietly, “always.”

She left him after that, declaring that they will have a bountiful feast prepared in celebration, but he only slumped back into his seat- now feeling marginally more beautiful than he did before. It sure would be nice to have someone else compliment him for once. He tried forcing that onto one of the maids, only asking for her opinion on a new shirt, but it ended up with her broken body at the bottom of the stairs. Before you assume anything, it was not his fault this time. She panicked after thinking that she had offended that Antichrist and tried to run away before slipping and falling down the stairs in the most horrifying yet entertaining way he had ever witnessed. It was borderline comical until she did not move.

He felt the velvet of the coat and grumbled at the memory. Everyone was scared of him. Nobody wanted to talk to him unless they absolutely had to. It was always like that since day fucking one. He could feel his blood boil and before he could think otherwise, he was stomping down the hallway, fists clenching and teeth grating. He was going to speak to his father whether the parent wanted that or not. Passing by people, almost like a shadow, Michael instructed one of the servants to alert Ms Mead that he will be in the Ritual Room and no one is to enter until he comes out.

He undressed rapidly, throwing his clothes onto the ground in frustration as the candles came to life around him. They dwindled in his presence for they knew who he was as flickering shadows creeped up the unnaturally smooth walls. He was cursing in Latin now, stepping into the circle as he drew the blade across his flesh and drawing blood. His emotions, the overwhelming hollowness in his mind, dulled the pain to the point where it was merely a faint throbbing- a distant thought to the profanities in his head. His voice died into a whisper, words begging for his father descending into Hell as Michael began to lose himself, giving himself entirely to the moment- his power oozing with the blood that he smeared into a pentagram. Strangely, it was a beautiful sight to see a devil crafted as an angel draw himself into the darker dreams of forbidden knowledge. The humming yellow light of the candles, a choir of tiny demons, singing to his rule over the mortal world. It was something he had felt many times in this past but this time it didn’t matter. Nothing did but only the attention of his father. He received it.

Shuddering, Michael opened his eyes in the world of eternal punishment, the candles becoming an inferno that blazed upwards towards the Heavens. Panting, his eyes traced the outline of his father amongst the smoke, grinning and standing; taking no note of his nude vulnerability. Despite being painted in blood and endorphins running high, he was proud of himself for keeping a calm composure.

“Long time no see, father.”

There was no reply as he felt the heat run across his skin, a warning perhaps for his cocky attitude.

“I have done what you asked of me. Humanity is on the brink extinction and the world itself has ended. Are you pleased?”

“You have not come here seeking my praise,” a low rumble echoed through what Michael could only describe as a cave, one that shook the walls, “you come seeking release…”

The son swallowed, his marble smile cracking and stepped back.

“Is that too much to ask from you? I have done everything you have asked of me and yet you leave me with nothing. It was I who destroyed the world! It was I who brought about the Apocalypse and yet I feel as empty as Heaven is. Nothing but a wonderful idea that is never reached. Is it not my right to be as fulfilled as you are?” Michael screamed, his voice breaking as tears rolled down his cheeks.

There was nothing but the roaring flames and his laboured breath- sweat dripping.

“You do not even know what you want.”

The Antichrist dropped to his knees, not caring for how the rocky ground scraped his skin.

“I know exactly what I want. I want… I want… I want to…”

How he wanted to say it so badly. How he needed to say it. Release all of those sentiments he had locked away so long ago. He combatted with his memories of the past, them wanting nothing more than to keep those emotions caged and yet another part of him was desperately pulling at the bars to free them. His tongue was twisting in his mouth as he shuddered; Michael was tearing himself apart at the seams, undoing all of Satan’s handiwork in a matter of seconds. His pride disintegrated as his mind shattered into ruins.

“You do not wish to admit what your body and mind craves. Oddly selfless coming from the spawn of my own being. However, you have done well.”

Then there was only the grey smoke as the fires screamed into nothing, their embers were all that was left. The man was still shuddering, crying into his hands as his voice gave up trying to speak his pain. All that he could do was choke on pent up rage, remorse, regret and melancholy. Once more, Satan had vanished without an answer. He whimpered, never wanting to return to the Sanctuary as he was perfectly happy here in limbo.

Something grew from the ashes and smoke, appearing like a ghost with silent footsteps. He felt warmth graze over his cheek, skin so soft that it made him moan and he looked up- blue eyes red and puffy. His breath caught in his throat as a woman, no an angel, stared down at him with a tender gaze. Her fingers trailed down his neck, over his right shoulder and down his arm, feeling the violent heartbeat that lied underneath. A hot track was left behind where ever she touched. Her eyes mesmerised him, like a priest to a bible or a mosquito to a bug zapper. Amongst the vast darkness that had become the cave, her eyes shone like the moon- beautiful, radiant and pure. Could such a woman come from the depths of Hell?

“I-I want to love.”

It was like someone else had said it for him, his mouth moving on its own accord. More tears raced down his face and she smiled lovingly, wiping them away without a thought. The Antichrist sighed in bliss before reaching out to touch her waist. He prayed that she wasn’t some illusion sent to torture him but when his own fingers made contact with her skin, there was only sheer relief that flooded his system. Ice had cooled the pools of boiling lava.

“Love can be painful,” she cautioned.

“I know.”

The Antichrist pulled her onto his lap as she kissed him with the force of all the layers of Hell covered in all the sweetness that Spring and Summer could bring. A raging storm concocted of a gentle breeze that soothed his aches and filled his bones. A hunger, a calling, a demand was met and was sealed with his blood coating and smearing against her chest and stomach. A lover sent from Satan.

When Michael opened his eyes, he found himself staring up at the ceiling of the Ritual Room. It was dark as the choir of candles had been snuffed when they drowned in their own wax. His whole body felt as if it was Hell itself- endless burning and evil. It was a feeling he used to have. With a low groan that rattled his throat, a sneer appeared over his lips and he turned to face the woman that was bare next to him. She clung to Michael like he was her lifeline- her own heartbeat. The man rolled over to look at her properly, a hand coming to stroke her blushing cheeks. Her eyes fluttered open and met his. Without hesitation, she returned the gesture, running her hand through his long, strawberry blonde hair- something that would become a habit.

“What is your name, my heart?” he purred.

“(Y/N).”

“A beautiful name,” he hesitated for a moment, “do you know who I am?”

The Antichrist, he anticipated to hear, that’s all I am.

She felt the mark of the beast behind his ear, but her face never faltered from the smile. She traced over the fresh scars that had healed from the beginning of the ritual. She analysed the blood that was covering the both of them.

“You are Michael Langdon.”

From that moment on, Michael knew he would never get his heart back.

#ahs #ahs apocalypse #ahs8 #ahs fanfiction #michael langdon #Michael Langdon x reader #Michael x reader #the antichrist #Michael Langdon imagine #Michael Langdon fanfiction #oneshot #ahs Michael langdon #imagine Michael langdon #michael langdon x reader

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see-arcane · 6 years

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Eddie Brock of the Comics, Cartoons, Tobey Maguire Spiderverse, Holiday Specials, Direct-to-DVD Animated Films, 237 What If AUs: Seriously, fuck Spider-Man. I know, I know, we’ve gone all civil these days, I’m not planning to bite his head or any limbs off, but still, fuck that guy, right?

Venom of all the same: Right!

Eddie Brock of the Sony Marvelverse, only knows Spider-Man as the guy in p.j.s who fought a tall gecko, a talking bug zapper, and a robotic rhino furry with jump kicks and silly string: Uh,

Venom of the same: I don’t know Andrew Garfield well enough to form an opinion

#all the big brother to MCU Spidey headcanons are cute and I love them #but the movie takes place in Sony's Marvel universe which already has a Spidey #and with Movie Eddie being the way he is #if he ever did meet Garfield Spider-Man I bet he would be in the same role as the nice churro-giving lady #he'd buy him a lunch with his last $10 after doing some heroics #other than that my bet is he's got 0.5% of an opinion on his universe's Spidey #which would absolutely appall and/or flabbergast every other version of him #oh well #eddie brock #venom #spider-man #sony #mcu #marvel #comics

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coffeedazes · 5 years

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I had an idea of making a needless fluff comic about a trans-man named Casimir Bumble that goes to a [insert magical college here] going to become a Druid with a minor in alchemy. Casimir was taken as an infant by changlings and was raised in the middle of a forest, so what’s what sparked their lives of animals. He has two ‘familars’, a luxmoth named Fluff’el (El for short) and an owulis named Collin.

Luxmoth is a versatile species creature that usually eats flowers and drinks nectar and fruit juice. However, they are also known for eating clothes and draining leftover blood from creatures. They can produce light from their bulb at the end of their tail. They absorb light during sunlight and use different light patterns to communicate with other Luxmoths. Luxmoths are slightly rare due to their lack of basic survival skills. When not finding leaves or fruits to drink, they are chasing lights. They can spend hours chasing after their own tailor being by electrocuting by bug zappers. They tend to be a pest within magical households due to their appetite for carpet.

Owulis usually thrive within deep forest areas. They usually eat small creatures, fruits, and the scraps leftover from picnics. You can find them near rural areas as well, mostly going through the garbage or eating small pets left out unwatched. When threatened, it’ll stretch out its neck to twice its size. Its eyes will also widen to three times their original size and use their patterns on their feathers and eyes to intimidate. It’ll also do so to get out of reach meals that are higher up or lower down. These creatures are extremely skilled hunters, able to hang upside down and fly silently through the night. So in most households, they have considered a very dangerous pest. In reality, they can be scared off with a bright light or a loud enough noise.

#artists on tumblr #magic #oc #druid #alchemy #creature design

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cleverwordsandotherstuffilike · 6 years

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*The term “bank teller” originated in the wake of the 1929 stock market crash, when banks began hiring low-paid workers to “tell” throngs of frantic depositors that their money was gone. * The city of Slaughter, Texas (population: 11,284), has never had a homicide occur within its boundaries. * Rubbing Tabasco on one’s upper lip before bedtime is an effective temporary cure for sleep apnea. * Moths are unable to fly during an earthquake. * Ingesting small doses of ink over an extended period of time will change your eye color slightly. * Scientists estimate that sleep lost due to daylight saving time reduces the average lifespan by nearly two full months. * No NCAA basketball team from a school located in its state’s capital has ever won the national championship. * Shortly before his execution, Timothy McVeigh constructed a scale model of the Lincoln Memorial with soda crackers. * Strains of bacteria similar to E. coli have been found in spent printer cartridges – but only in the cyan ones. Scientists have no explanation. * The Australian aborigine language has over 30 words for “dust.” * Fewer divorces occur in families in which the children wake their parents before 6 a.m. on Saturdays. * For over a decade, the number of drive-by shootings has been directly proportional to increased gas prices. * Two-thirds of all the world’s coriander comes from a single valley in Italy. * Baking soda and vinegar will make your scrambled eggs fluffier. * Ancient Egyptians used molted cobra skins as condoms. * The National Weather Service will pay $30 for the rights to any original photograph of lightning. * Nearly three percent of the ice in Antarctic glaciers is penguin urine. * In the weightlessness of space a frozen pea will explode if it comes in contact with Pepsi. * Smearing a small amount of dog feces on an insect bite will relieve the itching and swelling. * The Boeing 747 is capable of flying upside-down if it weren’t for the fact that the wings would shear off when trying to roll it over. * The trucking company Elvis Presley worked at as a young man was owned by Frank Sinatra. * The only golf course on the island of Tonga has 15 holes, and there’s no penalty if a monkey steals your golf ball. * SCUBA divers cannot pass gas at depths of 33 feet or below. * Catfish are the only animals that naturally have an ODD number of whiskers. * Polar bears can eat as many as 86 penguins in a single sitting. * The Air Force’s F-117 fighter uses aerodynamics discovered during research into how bumblebees fly. * Silly Putty was “discovered” as the residue left behind after the first latex condoms were produced. It’s not widely publicized for obvious reasons. * The volume of water that the Giant Sequoia tree consumes in a 24-hour period contains enough suspended minerals to pave 17.3 feet of a 4-lane concrete freeway. * King Henry VIII slept with a gigantic axe. * Because printed materials are being replaced by CD-ROM, microfiche and the Internet, libraries that previously sank into their foundations under the weight of their books are now in danger of collapsing in extremely high winds. * Touch-tone telephone keypads were originally planned to have buttons for Police and Fire Departments, but they were replaced with * and # when the project was cancelled in favour of developing the 911 system. * Human saliva has a boiling point three times that of regular water. * Calvin, of the “Calvin and Hobbes” comic strip, was patterned after President Calvin Coolidge, who had a pet tiger as a boy. * Watching an hour-long soap opera burns more calories than watching a three-hour baseball game. * You can actually sharpen the blades on a pencil sharpener by wrapping your pencils in aluminum foil before inserting them. * Urine from male cape water buffaloes is so flammable that some tribes use it for lantern fuel. * Due to the angle at which the optic nerve enters the brain, staring at a blue surface during sex greatly increases the intensity of orgasms. * Never hold your nose and cover your mouth when sneezing, as it can blow out your eyeballs. * Due to the natural “momentum” of the ocean, saltwater fish cannot swim backwards. * Because of the curvature of the Earth, it is nearly three miles farther to fly from Amarillo, Texas to Louisville, Kentucky than it is to return from Louisville to Amarillo. * The original inspiration for Barbie dolls comes from dolls developed by German propagandists in the late 1930s to impress young girls with the ideal notions of Aryan features. The proportions for Barbie were actually based on those of Eva Braun. * The Venezuelan brown bat can detect and dodge individual raindrops in mid-flight, arriving safely back at his cave completely dry. * The Mongolian pony is the only animal other than an elephant capable of fending off an attack by a healthy adult tiger. * Because of their unusual shape, Hershey’s Kisses contain more calories per ounce than the same amount of chocolate in other forms. * If you tar and feather a 2x4 and place it in your yard, it will ward off bats. * The largest home in the United States, North Carolina’s Biltmore House, was originally intended to be the official residence of a new monarchy to be established when the South rose again. * Nobody born in Kentucky has ever been elected to Congress. * In an effort to improve the nutritional value of its “Shamrock shakes,” McDonald’s colors them with broccoli extract. * Winston Churchill was born with a third nipple, which he removed himself with nail-clippers at the age of 14. * If you place a fresh Viagra tablet in a houseplant’s soil every six months, the plant will not wilt. * The noun “sled” originates from the name of a 18th-century mountaineer from Finland, Schletz Linden, whose body was used by his climbing partner to slide down a mountain during a winter storm after he froze to death. * If a cricket were the size of Mount Rushmore, it could jump to the moon. * The increase in the amount of metals mined and brought to the surface of the earth in order to manufacture SUVs has caused higher tides in the Northern Hemisphere. * Children conceived on airplanes never suffer from motion sickness. * Blue water in a toilet bowl causes males to urinate 7 percent more. * The Yanomami tribesmen of the Amazon basin can track game birds by the slight difference in warmth their shadows create on the forest floor as they fly by, for up to an hour after the birds have departed. * Rapid deforestation has decreased the friction of the surface of the Earth, causing it to spin infinitesimally faster and thereby cool the air, combating global warming. * The flush toilet was invented in Flushing, NY. * On occasions when the sun is shining brightly on falling snowflakes, they contain enough ionic charge to stun insects. Observation of this phenomenon inspired the invention of the bug zapper. * Over the last two decades, more Americans died of heart attacks while watching horror movies in movie theatres than died while sky-diving. * Every common food product, with the exception of fish and veal, contains some traces of peanut enzymes. * The number of words in the Bible divided by the number of verses equals exactly 666. * An 18th-century law still on the books in Vermont makes it illegal for a woman to lick a stamp in a public place. * Constipation kills nearly twice as many people as diarrhea, mainly because the former mostly afflicts the old and weak while the latter mostly affects young, strong children. * It is physically impossible to urinate and give blood at the same time. * If you fill a standard 750ml wine bottle with live hornets, their angry buzzing will resonate at precisely the right frequency to shatter the glass. * During his famous “Blue Period,” Pablo Picasso invented the substance that eventually became known as Play-Doh. * Every year in the fall, Niagara Falls is shut down for maintenance for 24 hours. The flow is diverted using a massive series of pipes and spigots built for this purpose in 1837.

Are these important facts true? They are from the internet so I think they must be.

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