#fantasy promtps

[thewritersline]

“How are you here?”

“My death was temporary and underrated.”

[morerichka8]

Born to wander, cursed to wonder

November, 2024

[gimlisonofgroin]

The Dark Lord won and did indeed cover the land in 1000 years of darkness and terror. However, he never really expected to last that long and now it’s been 999 years and he has no idea what to do next. Last minute panic begins to set in as his centuries of procrastination are catching up to him.

[artbysarf]

OC-Tober '24 Day 27: Mari / Elegant Fashion based on the prompts by ranfea on Instagram

[transcendragon]

Ghost

Prompt: “Will you just tell me what your fucking problem is? You’re acting crazy, you know that, but you think you can still pretend everything is fine? Spit it out!” “I’m— I’m being haunted.” – Here, in the daylight of high noon as we sit across from each other at a cafe, it’s safe to admit. He can only come out when the sun begins to set and will disappear when the sun finishes rising…

[s-soulwriter]

Prompt 1

"In the heart of the enchanted forest, where the trees whispered secrets and the stars danced with magic, I sensed the ancient power awakening within me."

[therealmaze]

Being an optimistic and hatred of pessimism was her motto it seemed when I spoke to her the first time. Life may be very hard on her, but she remains hopeful of all the hopelessness that she's faced, setting boundaries all around her......

She would often express to me, through ridged words that seemed to choke her up, the flashbacks she would experience. A faint and forced smile cracked the tension within her.

"But- I don't let them consume me. I'm thankful to be in a better place. A safe place in life."

"What makes you feel you're in a better place? Anna, let's face it... You're still living at home with your mother-"

"But I've forgiven her, I've worked through it"

"Anna, this is only our third session, surely you know we haven't begun to dive into-"

"That's not why I'm here."

"We should still address it. I won't push the issue yet, we can focus on whatever you'd like-"

"Thank you" she pulls at her knitted cardigan, clearly I've struck a deep rooted nerve and began to poke at the hidden broken child who hides beneath the strong, optimistic, girl in front of me today. I reach into the breast pocket of my blazer and pull out an envelope containing the not-so small 'loan' she requested. She's been coming here as a client for just shy of a month, I find myself wondering if this was part of her plan all along. She knows I could never turn her down, could never not come to her rescue. I know what she's been through, I've seen it first hand being married to her mother for 10 years. Finally, I couldn't manage to live a lie any further and wake up next to the she-devil I called my missus.

I put the envelope on the desk between us. She lets a small sigh go and gazes up at me with her big green eyes. She's so beautiful. It's been years since I've spoken to her, or laid my eyes on her. Years since I left the war-zone she still calls home.

"Thank you...." She whispered as she shyly rises up from her seat and walks over to me. She unbuckles my belt, just as she did so many times before, as a young girl.

I thought I had moved on from all this, from her mother's insane antics, from Anna's beauty totally consuming my being. I've got a new wife, and my own child on the way. I love them... I really love them- "fuck....." I feel her warm mouth around me. "I've missed you, Anna" I close my eyes and let out a heavy breath.

She uses the back of hand to wipe the corners of her mouth as she grabs the envelope off the desk. She looks back at me, before she opens the door to make her exit, she wants to say something but doesn't. I'm left here with her memory, once again.

[blossomhcir]

𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖘𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖍𝖈𝖎𝖗. An original character adapted for the ASOIAF / GOT universe, featuring verses for other fantasy media like D&D/BG3. Written by Bunny, she/her, 28. Mutual exclusive & 18+. EST 12/22. Revamped 1/24.

An exploration in: Responsibility, disillusionment and dreams, healing the mother wound, quiet grief, faith in love above all, the strength of gentleness in a world of cruelty. ​ MAINS & AFFILIATES: @velcryons @dreamtfyres @dioica

────   CARRD.  INTEREST TRACKER.  PROMTPS. OPENS.

[promptsforthestrugglingauthor]

Writing Prompt #180

A collective heartbeat shuddered through the field as the army stood on the ground most of them knew would be their graves. Nonetheless, they were going to fight for their lives and their mission the best they could.

[sassysadisticsarcasms]

Prompt: How did the Grim Reaper get their mask?

I like to think of my untimely demise as murder. If only because it made my story sound more epic. An unnatural culling told better than the story of a poor, unsuspecting fool struck down by a rogue arrow.

Arrows, as far as I’m concerned, are not a naturally occurring phenomenon. Regardless, the tiny spear entered the left side of my head and exited the other. I can’t necessarily recall if I screamed in pain or if I futilely attempted to stop the bleeding.

(These sudden lapses of memory have become rather common lately. I can’t help but wonder if it was to be expected after experiencing such an extreme head wound.)

I had been a common man in a common house located in a common town. I was no Lord, no knight, nor a particularly gifted scholar. My only peculiarly being my slightly carnivorous horses. Lovely creatures… for the most part. I remember being a foolish man, quite a stubborn one too. So many times I was thrust into compromising situations because of a pride as grand as the greatest King’s castle.

(As you may be able to guess, this particular attribute had a tendency to get me into the deepest of trouble. My fate was twisted by just a single despicable woman.)

For several suns, a rather ill-favored crone had set up her shop in the town forum. She would lay out her wears on a ratty wagon canvas and—with a certain desperation—harass all who passed by.

The witch would stay there, unmoving, until her gnarled joints and papery skin became wet with perspiration and even the most daring shopper had fled from the midday heat. With no customers in sight, she would quickly tidy up her wares before stripping out of her coat, clothes, and underclothes as well. From there she would jump into the old fountain to stave off the heat.

(Three times she was arrested and fined for public indecency.

I had been there to witness such an arrest. I would have wished for death… but it's become a moot point.)

Ignoring her crimes against decency, she offered a plethora of remedies, maybe miracles, and strange lucky charms in exchange for the oddest of payments. I can no longer recall how or why I came to see her. Neither can I call forth most of her features.

Hanging wrinkled boo—No-no-no-no! Purge-purge-purge-purge!

One memory—hrrk—ONE memory remained of the witch, her teeth. I’ll admit, it’s a rather strange observation to make considering nearly all had dreadful mouths. Yet, I remember them perfectly. Crooked, pointed, and decayed till the point they were black. I noticed when she had first given me that devilish trader’s grin. Her smile was filled with fermented insanity. When I’d grimaced she had cackled so loudly passersby stopped to gawk.

“Yup! Indeed! You’re a stubborn one!” The witch had croaked with all the eerie knowing of a toad.

With her eyes alight with a consuming fire she jabbed a crooked finger into my chest. She leaned in, rancid breath tickling my cheeks.

“You dead…” She’d smirked, tossing me something of her wares.

For several moments I stood captive under her fetid scent.

“O-of course I’ll die,” I had brilliantly provided, breaking from her malodorous spell, “Everyone dies.”

I believe they found the terrifyingly indecent witch dead some ways outside of town several days later. She deserved to die after spoiling my own death. Looking back—and after thorough analysis—I have realized that she most likely stated “Yew dead.” A reasonable explanation considering I was unjustly ‘murdered’ at the base of a yew tree. Perhaps she cursed me.

(O the curse of bullheadedness…)

I was a stubborn man, an immovable mountain when it came to even the most benign arguments. This was still a present trait even as my blood flowed away and my brain performed a grand ol' coup d’état. Even if I no longer recall the reason for my patient waiting, I wasn’t about to let the eternal sleep stop me from doing so.

No matter the temptation to fade into nothingness I remained firmly attached to my corpse. For all I knew, I could have been waiting to elope with a lover that never arrived or searching for a lost child or something important!

(I could have just been taking a piss in the woods. But that would have added unnecessary embarrassment to my already lame death.)

No matter the circumstances, I would not dissipate. I would not surrender to death. There was a reason (I hope) I was killed at that yew, a motive (I really hope) behind my death, and a reason (I really, really hope) that I had yet to leave my body. I would just have to sit here and wait for the world to reset my fate since, CLEARLY, it was exceeding death.

(I miss that motivation.)

At first, death was terribly boring. The dead, after all, have very little to do.

I believe the first thing I did was contemplate my life. It had just ended, and I was very new to death. I thought about the sins I committed, worked through the depression of no longer being amongst the living, and worried about who would feed my horses. Dastardly creatures, no doubt they had already escaped and eaten my poor stable boy.

Around my fifth year of being dead was when the insanity first began to sink in. A little mushroom had sprouted around where my nose used to be, which I named Harold. He was incredibly wise and the most eloquent fungi I had ever met. Harold and I spent many hours discussing the great philosophical ways of the world.

Harold met his unfortunate end by means of a very hungry mouse. I mourned his loss for days until I suddenly stumbled upon my sanity with the realization that I was projecting myself onto a fungus. That had to be one of the more awkward moments of my death.

(After-death? After-life? Limbo? Yet another thing to contemplate.)

With the addition of a couple of years upon that, the earth soon began to claim my bones. It was one of the more unfortunate events of my death. Despite being dead I still very much enjoyed the sun shining through the foliage and watching the animals scurry about. (Even if some of them did find delicacies with my bones.) I would miss the green of plants and the blue of the sky. I did not want to sink into the cool, dark earth.

No longer could I move. I couldn’t make any perceptible noise. It would have been quite a sticky situation if it wasn’t for my encounter with a wayward Grim Reaper.

I had watched him approach from the deepest, darkest shadows of the forest. He was night incarnate and had the signature scythe thrown over his shoulder. The Reaper was rather out of place within the bright greens of the woods. I first assumed him to be yet another figment of my growing-more-estranged-with-every-passing-second imagination. I was quite thankful that my delusion appeared to be human… this time.

The Reaper had wandered over—long robes catching in the undergrowth—and looked down his pointy, pretentious nose at me. I would’ve described his eyes as dark, mysterious, and unreadable, but that would begin to mark a divergence into something more romantic. I was trying to avoid those sort of deluded fantasies.

I had been rather curious about which part of my deteriorating mind he represented. Guilt, despair, or self-doubt seemed rather likely. Perhaps insecurity. The figment did seem rather rawboned and awkward.

The man bowed slightly—wrinkling his cloak—and uttered a small prayer.

"Rest deeply, old forgotten bones laying by the yew." He had whispered.

Soon after, he moved to leave. He steps silently despite the fallen leaves. There was an eerie grace about him.

It was around that time that I had begun to gather that he was, as a matter of fact, NOT part of my consciousness. So, as someone who was surrounded by perpetual boredom, who cussed at aggressive birds, and who spoke to mushrooms as if they were great philosophers, it was only natural I began to speak with him. I regret my lack of self-control.

“Please! Do continue walking! I’ll just unbury myself!” I had called, “Yes, me! Without any arms or legs! I would never wish to impede the great master of poor fashion!”

The man froze several steps away, his shoulders rigid as he turned. After a couple of seconds of rude staring, a scowl settled itself frankly upon his jaw. Storming over he plucked my skull right out of the ground with a spray of soil.

“What are you doing in there!” He growled frigidly, “Get out!”

I stared at him blankly. That was all I could do since I was lacking a fleshy face. (Perhaps, if I was still alive and in a similar situation I would have been making faces. Mean ones.) I wish I had remained silent for I soon said something foolish.

“A mean bird ate my jaw,” I replied with misery and an admittedly little forethought, “I can’t talk.”

The only sign that the man had become enraged was a subtle twitching of an elegant black eyebrow and the slight noise of grinding teeth. Dreadful sound that is. The shadows of the forest seemed to grow darker. Was this an ability of a soul reaper?

(Oh. No, no. Just a passing cloud.)

He raised me to an uncomfortably short distance from his face and said in an eerily calm voice, “Listen hear you lowt… You’ve obviously been stranded on the mortal plane for far too long. I think you should leave before what remains of your mind strays too far into lunacy!” And then with an added hiss, “You’re dead!”

“Really?” I replied skeptically, “I could have sworn the arrow missed…”

Most living people, or even less stubborn dead, might have noticed the threatening undertone. From what I remember from my mortal life… I was incompetent. Hidden meanings, analogies, metaphors; all flew over my head. Much like birds over trees. I never understood why some people just couldn’t just speak outright about the mind's pressing matters.

“You’re the lowt! Walking around covered in that black cloth! What sort of madness has infected you that… that has become appropriate for this time of year?!” And just for added measure, “You’re definitely a loon!”

For a moment all was silent and the beautiful sounds of nature became apparent. Birds chirping and fluttering about, the wind ruffling leaves, squirrels, and chipmunks scurrying about. It was all very peaceful. With this sudden peace, I knew immediately to regret the words that had spilled from my mouth.

The man had a strained sort of smile on his face. He looked as if he was so angry that breathing had become an afterthought. I was surprised he wasn’t turning violet. I had just been about to apologize when he threw me. The fellow had good aim. I hit the yew dead on.

“Ouch!” I shouted, tumbling to the ground.

As the world slowly stopped spinning enough for me to make sense of it, the man marched over with his scythe swung off his shoulder. When he finally arrived, I stuck my tongue out and–wait a moment.

Raising his foot, the man kicked me into the bushes.

“Ow!” I shouted, tumbling into the bushes.

Pulling me from the leaves the man, once again, raised me to his face.

“Why the hell are you saying “ouch”!?” He shouted, “You’re dead! DEAD! Nothing but a filthy skull!”

The Reaper took a breath.

“It’s time that your forgotten soul move on from this world.”

What a rude and vile traveler. He came to my home, my yew, and decided to beat me up for back talking. Well, he was going to get a lot more than backtalk as soon as I found my arms… and my legs… and that bird that ate most of my bones…

“I’ll have you know that while I cannot feel pain, I have emotions! Emotions that can be hurt by hideous travelers with such a poor sense in cloth like you!” I insulted, “I would like to see you try and force me from this world! You can kiss my missing arse you tickle-brained fustilarian!”

For a moment I was weightless, just floating in the air. It was one of those moments when you begin to reflect on the life you have lived up to that critical poin–right… dead. Okay, so maybe instead of self-reflection I stared at the yew tree I had been waiting at for so long. What was the point? Why shouldn’t I give up the remainder of my consciences to rest in peace? The light reflected off the man’s scythe as it came down quick and sharp, directly where the arrow had first killed me.

(Hmm… Whatever did happen to that arrow?)

With a crack and a snap, the back of my head flew off. Now all that remained of my once complete body was my forehead, my eye sockets, and the upper half of my jaw. A sort of deep sorrow came over me leaving me breathless (I have no lungs…), my words abandoned me. The Reaper turned away with an irritable huff.

“Stubborn old soul…” The shadowy man muttered.

Once again he bowed his head and spoke a small prayer, although slightly begrudged, and began to leave. Despair slowly began to sink deep into my soul. Doubt of my purpose and a deep sadness towards my current situation were prominent. Was it even worth it to wait so many years for something that would likely never come?

Had I been forgotten?

Despair is such an easy thing to sink into, and the fall is even deeper when negativity is added. I would have given up if it wasn’t for a familiar carrion bird coming into view. Like a rejected angle the creature swooped down and grabbed something off the forest floor.

It landed on a branch with a squawk. My skull clenched within its jagged talons.

“You!” I gasped.

That horrid visitor whipped his head around with an aghast look. He pointed at me, shouting scrambled and hateful words. I ignored him, too focused on the bird as it slowly broke my delicate bone into chunks. It watched me as it swallowed them whole. Bite after bite. Crunch after crunch.

“How dare you eat me!” I yelled, “Foul creature! Rat with wings!”

The bird screeched another squawk before vanishing deeper into the woods. The irritating stranger, once again, marched over and picked me up. I really hoped he didn’t throw me, that blasted bird wasn’t going to get another free meal on my watch.

“Why won’t you move on!” The man screamed, little bits of spittle flying here and there.

For a moment he sat there huffing and silent, waiting for my response.

“Would you move on if you died waiting for something that never arrived? Am I unreasonable for wanting to see what my life was bought for?” I asked curiously, “Perhaps a weaker man would have given up once forgotten, but I am not one. For that, I guess you will have to forgive me.”

The man let out a long defeated sigh and fastened his scythe back over his shoulder. Much to my surprise (and against all logical reasoning), he placed me upon his face much like a mask.

Wonderful, from human to carrion to bird food… and now to mask. This was… truly my lowest moment. Slowly the illogical man began to meander away from the yew, much to my chagrin.

As if sensing my concerns the man spoke, “I’m known as Acwellen. I am what you would know as a Grim Reaper. I assist souls to the afterlife and force the more stubborn ones.” He stated with a worrying smirk, “You won’t move on and I couldn’t force you, therefore I must find your unfinished business or whatever…”

“As a man, I feel extremely uncomfortable being this close to another man.”

“Please… do shut up.”

“And how am I remaining on your face? Do you have supernatural abilities? Are you a witch?”

There was only a tired sigh in response. Were all travelers as looney as this one who claimed to be an assistant of death, put the skull of a long-deceased human on his face, and thought black cloth to be an appropriate travel color?

I was concerned about where this idiot would be taking me. He didn’t seem very trustworthy… and he did just attempt to kill me. Not to mention he helped that damn bird. Although, the lowt did say he was going to help me find whatever I was waiting for. Who was I to be picky? This man had LEGS!

“Acwel! Your name means to kill! My name is Daegal! I wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet you!” I introduced myself jovially.

The man suddenly stopped. Raising a hand to his new boney mask he spoke.

“I forgot to ask,” He started with a curious tilt of his head, “what exactly are you waiting for?”

“I have no recollection!” I giggled.

Once again, I was thrown (This fellow really did have impeccable aim!) into a tree. One of the sharper edges of my skull dug into the bark leaving me stuck at a peculiar angle. Acwel, turning red in the face, marched over and viciously pulled me from the wood. He seemed just about to throw me again when he gathered some semblance of self-control and released a pent-up breath. Bringing a hand down his face he looked towards the sky.

“Why must you test me?” He sighed.

[tabukomi]

What is in shadows? Do they reflect our future, past or present?

[littlebitofwitchery]

Hey guys if anyone wants to beta read , bounce ideas , help or just talk about writing join my group :)

[itspooh4u]

I am the breeze

Floating freely across the ocean

Kissing the earth, trees and moving in a notion

I am calm

Keeping the tender grace

Being polite and ready to embrace

I am thunder

Coming down like a bolt

Burning anyone who comes to hold

I am Fire

Giving warmth and removing the darkness with light

Also burning if you come to fight

For I am a woman

A caring mother and a loving wife

But if you cross me I can destroy your life..

[officialleehadan]

Masterlist 7/14/2018

Hello Darlings, here is the updated masterlist as of 7/14/18

If you want to blacklist these posts, which will update every other week or so, the tag is Lee Hadan Masterlist

All the stories here are arranged by series, and the stories are arranged chronologically within their series. If there’s only one story in a series, I already have continuations written (or planned) and more will be coming soon!

+++

  Support me on Patreon!

Books on Amazon:

Goblin Armor

There has never been much in way of peace between the Faerie Realm, and the Shadow Wold of the Goblins. Generations of hostility and mistrust will do that. Still, for two generations, the border has been quiet, and the fearsom Goblins hidden away deep in their dark forest. Until now. With the Goblins on the march, and Princess Snowbell’s king-father flying to meet them, it is all Snow can do to keep her family, and her Realm, from falling to treason, and murder. There has never been much in way of peace between the Faerie Realm, and the Shadow Wold of the Goblins. Generations of hostility and mistrust will do that. Still, for two generations, the border has been quiet, and the fearsom Goblins hidden away deep in their dark forest. Until now. With the Goblins on the march, and Princess Snowbell’s king-father flying to meet them, it is all Snow can do to keep her family, and her Realm, from falling to treason, and murder.

Return Again

I thought my father was normal. The kind of dad who deals with work, and homework, and the troubles that come with being a single father to a seventeen-year-old girl. I didn’t know he went to a different world when he was a teenager. I didn’t know he was the Chosen One of a magic sword. I didn’t know he saved a whole kingdom, maybe their world, before he was twenty. That was thirty years ago. Now they need him back, and I’m going with him.

The Idol of Astre: ($2 a month on Patreon)

Chapter 1 (Tumblr)

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

The Unsettled:

Handful of Salt

Critter Jar

Appropriate use of Craft Glitter

Unafraid

This Old House:

Experienced Home-Buying

White Roses and Deck Railings

Twins Together:

Brothers Apart

Sanctuary Always

Twinning Disagreements

Deities and Demigods:

Boredom

Inconvenienced

Luck’s Chosen

Golden Apples

Apocalypse:

Come Again Another Day

Invasion from Below

War-Beasts

Four Horses

Four Horsemen

Horsemen Four

Mercy Mercy Mercy

Breaking Waves:

After the Storm

Winter Wind

Uncollected Faeries:

Faerie Ring

Glitter Poo

Skitter

Wine-Dark

The End of Indian Summer

Purple Handed

At the Sign of the Silver Rose:

Cold Iron Buckshot

Troll Market

Selkie Skin:

Seal Coat

Uncollected Dragons:

Exploration by Wing

Iced White Wine

Mine to Hoard

Hoard of Memories

Uncollected Witches:

Best Served Cold

Casual Friday

Exotic Components

One Eye on the Other Side

Spelled Cooking

Thyme can Heal

The Lightning Witch:

Static Charge

First Strike

Black Lightning on the Horizon

Storm Breaking

Crash Down

Husband to the Queen

When the Wolf Star Rises

Treebrothers:

Snow Elf

Wild Roses and Birdsong

Spider-Eating Elves:

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

Introductory Trouble

Lady of Grace

Lady of Stone, and her Girlfriend

Lady Retrieved

Monsters on the Wing

Spiderwebs and Cookies

Royal Match

Worldbuilding Essays:

Blood Magic

Elf Forest

Green Magic

Forge Magic

Thread Magic

Dragons

Light and Dark Magic

13 Moons

Frost Moon

Blue Moon

Jasmine Moon

HGE - Human/Alien Relations

Get That OUT of Your Mouth

Medical Attention

Claws

Ingenuity

War and Peace

Echo-Folk

HGE - Invasions

Invasion Denied

Blood Will Tell (What Waits in the Dark)

No Moon

HGE - The Others

Through Shattered Glass

Sea and Sky

HGE - Conflagration

Fire District

HGE - Smoke before Fire

The Legend, The Rumor

Deep Water and Scales

Black Scales and Open Spaces

Screams in the Dark

Warning Lights

Into the Wild

HGE - The Maw

Back Room Handshakes

New Understandings

HGE - Learn to Fly, Learn to Breathe:

Red Baron

Red Prince

Red Sky

Stone and Intuition:

Pack Hunters

Attack Droids

Dragon Bones

Dream of a Desk Job

Explosive Foolishness

Inferno Grenades

Married Life

The Hand of Bone:

Death’s Kiss

Supers Beyond

Card Shark

Heroic Rescue

Housekeeping Before Villainy

Jet Fuel

Lobster Bisque

Opposing Elements:

Cold Front

Reality at Will

Altering Reality

Reality Bent

The Pen is Mightier

Will of Fire

Chinese Pepper

Firepower

A Moment’s Peace

Burnout

Doctor Rimeheart (Supervillain Coffee Shop)

Handicapped

Power Rests in the Eye

Nuclear Option

Incidental Villain

Cut a Deal

First Summon

Even Supervillains run from Fangirls

The Blackest Coffee

Deal with the Devil

Fear and Coffeegrounds

Personal Space

Broken Countertops

Christmas Cookies

Revealed

Wannabe Wannabes

Home Life

Shadows Unleashed

Higher Being Housemates

Bright Red Panties

Black and White Feathers

Demonic Comfort

Demonic Intervention

Unwanted Attention

Magpie Wings

Don’t Fall

Sparklers and Demon Smiles

Uncollected Demons:

Accidental Oops

Bloody Mirror

Brimstone Portal

Burn My Body and Bury Me Deep

Holy Protestation

On Repeat

The Gunsmith

The Wrong Victim

Over the Edge

Sinners

Seven Sins

House of Demons

A Deal Once Made:

You Scratch my Back

Contract Lawyer:

Blue Frosting

Fine Print

Uncollected:

Awaken History

Command.Awaken

Isle of Monsters

One Punch Man

Stonebreaker Caldera

Hot Potato, Hot Potato

Vigilante Vampire

Crawlspace

Slow Burn:

About-Face

Between Us Girls:

Surprises Abroad

Uncollected Fantasy:

Below the Fog

Glitter Bold

God-Touched Tide

Into the Darkness

Turn Me

Wolf Moon

Blood Moon

Hallowed Halls Memorial

A Kiss to Heal a Broken Heart

The Mistlands:

Foolhardy Errand

Desert Glass:

Spellborn Lost

Smoked Glass

The Rise to Power:

Two Minds as One

Gates Torn Down

Heaven’s Gates

Counter-Code:

Code for Magic

99 Shiny New Bugs

Blood Magic:

Blood Fire

At the Last Moment

Healing Touch                                                                                            

Unbound, Unbroken

Student Discovered

Claimed as Ours

Never Free:

Round and Round Again

Mistaken Step

Golden Scales:

Tigerfish

Blood and Passion:

White Marble

+++

[promptsup]

He was born to unite the world. She was born to destroy it. Love found them.

[theyearofdiamonddogs]

What I like to see between Prompto, Gladio and Cindy in assasin's DLC

This is my first story, is short and maybe bad, and English aren't my first language, but I will apreciated if you let me know what you think about. Hope you enjoy!

Noctis cames blaming in low tone, by the situation lived a momento before with Gladio. "Who fuck he thinks he is?" A confused Prompto, cames to his fella, to ask him what it's happens, and what it's gonna happens to his picture with the greasy girl. But the prince is amused and not tells him anything, to him, except by, if he wants a picture with her, he can go to ask by himself. At first the confused Prompto just, tells him, he can't do this, cause is not so hard to him just go and ask it. So they keep his "fun time" around the festival, they where going around and there, and arriving to a point, the two guys, comes to restaurant to having some food, and then where's when Prompto see it: Gladio triying to cheat with Cindy, just as he do with every single person with bobs in all festival. He didn't know how he do it, but he where there, interrupting the chat between thoose two, catching by surprise to the girl, he starts to ask Cindy by the picture: Prompto: "Hy girl, I just where wondering mysel if you will agree to go now and take a "memory picture" with me. He sounds cheers and self trust, for first time, and a amused Gladio, look the guy with the intention of tells him something harrasing, to the blonde nugget, so Promto looks directly to the big muscle guy, with a flame and kill gaze, before Galdio can tell anything and says: Prompto: "you shut up, asshole" with an advertisement tone, Gladio frown surprised and don't say any word, in time Prompto watches Cindy, awaiting for his answer. The girl, opened smiled the blondie guy, and agreed with her head, so Prompto smiles to her too, filled with happiness and trust in himself, and both leave the muscled guy behind them, and passing out of him. Cindy caught Prompto's hand, grateful surprised by the new "self confidence" of the guy, and ask him: Cindy: "why leave it in just one "memory picture" what about, take that girl to drink something"? Prompto smiles and agreed to her, in time Noct watch them go away, and thinks: "good job my friend" smiling greeted.