tattered clothing

Joseph Christiansen Secret/Cult Ending Manuscript

I went digging through the Level 18 gibberish and sorted out all the dialogue into a manageable manuscript if anyone is interested in reading this secret wild ride. None of the dialogue is labeled so I did my best to interpret who was saying what so any mistakes are my bad. It took a few hours to put together but I felt like some people would like more than just a summary so here is the full text:

MC will be short for Main Character or your player.

** edit 07/26/17: minor text fixes, better formatting, the insertion of more images (courtesy of purpledragon42) , and insert of a working readmore **

Level 18- Joseph Bad Ending or True Ending ( Who knows? )

This appears to take place after MC and Joseph Christiansen engage in sex in the yacht, except you don’t wake up to what you expect. This takes place in Cult_Dungeon1.

(Photo Credits: Game Grumps)

START: You’re A Monster

MC:

Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaawn. What time is it? Must have been asleep for ages. I wonder what will happen now that Mary is gone? What about Joseph’s kids? And how will Amanda feel about all this? That’s what matters… . Well, we all have each other. I guess time will tell, right? Better get up and greet the day.

Am I tied up?! What the hell?! How did I get here? What’s going on?! Joseph? Anybody?

You’re probably just dreaming. Why would there be a… Don’t panic… . a dungeon. An evil dungeon. Why would there be an evil dungeon here? This can’t be real. Maybe I had too much Twilight Rouge. I’m dreaming, or something.

???:

Oh, I guarantee this is real.

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Hey there everyone! WHOO! Finally got a reprieve, as I’m done with my drawings for my final project, now I have to continue typing the written parts.

Done largely in part because I love the lore, practice drawing human characters, and to pass the time whenever I need a breather from from college.

While researching for the lore of Dark Souls for my In-progress AU Comic, I noticed how LARGE the mythology of Dark Souls and the deities that reside, along with the fan speculation of which god corresponds with whom and etc. In spite of all this, from what I can tell, outside of Gwyn’s family, there has never been a, for lack of a better term, “compendium piece” of the gods and goddesses of dark souls, so I made my own :D

Because some gods are not represented in imagery, I decided to design how they might look if they ever showed up amongst mortals. I owe a lot to Tumblr, Reddit and the DS fandom as a whole, the amount of theory and lore discussions are always gold, and of course, the lore-lords like @vaatividya and @silver-mont, their vids are always interesting to watch :)

From the Top Row: The Bearers of the Lord Souls

Gravelord Nito: No need for an explanation here xD

Gwyn, Lord of Sunlight: Drawing him was easy, but here I wanted portray a very stern, no-nonsense god king who really, REALLY is someone you don’t want to piss off, and someone who is almost NEVER happy and/or satisfied.

The Witch of Izalith: I’m honestly surprised there’s not much fanart of how her face might look like, so I pitched in. She basically resembles her daughters, but with a more matriarchal vibe, with a stronger jawline and sharper eyes to reflect that. She’s also very tall, towering over Gwyn and just slightly edging out NK in height.

The Furtive Pygmies, featuring Manus and a Pygmy Lord: With the Ringed City revealing that there were SEVERAL pygmies, I had quite some fun with the speculation and possibilities of how the Pygmies as a whole looked like.

Personally? I simply interpret them as humans but more, with more power over the dark soul, but otherwise having different roles in society like regular folk, the Ringed Knights are Warriors, the Lords are the rulers, etc.

I put Manus amongst them, why? Because no way should ONE man be able to have THAT much abyss power just because he’s a human. Since the dark soul is divided amongst humans, I interpret him having a huge chunk of the Dark Soul (as per these two threads), and thus was simply a mighty sorceror who happened to be really, REALLY old, even by Pygmy standards. Plus I always wondered… How does one torture a dead man? The Mad King was described as undying, so according to my own logic, he wasn’t totally “dead” when he was buried. His grave could signify him wanting a modicum of peace, after all, his entire race was basically put in a glorified prison by Gwyn… Sensing the growing madness within him (probably due to sheer isolation), he probably decided to “die” on his own terms in Oolacile… then future idiots proceeded to listen to TOTALLY NOT SUSPICIOUS AT ALL SERPENT and dug up his grave.

The random Pygmy Lord is basically representing one of the first Pygmy Lords.


Second Row: The Children of the Gods

The Nameless King, Firstborn of Gwyn, God of War: In a short period of time, has become my favorite character amongst the gods… There’s so much of a story to tell from him, his relationship with his family, the reasons as to WHY he betrayed the dragons, and thanks to lore threads a-plenty, I interpret him as one of the most honorable and dedicated of the gods. He watches over his warriors of sunlight even if they ARE humans (whom Gwyn HATES) AND he protects Dragons. Despite meI head-canoning him bigger than Gwyn and is in general a wall of muscle and armor, he’s STILL shorter than his sisters.

Gwynevere, Goddess of Fertility: Gwynevere here I interpret as one of the nicer gods, so I made her expression to reflect such. Because Gwyndolin’s illusion of her may be simply him projecting what he remembers most of her and thus potentially exaggerating certain aspects, I toned down a lot the “Aphrodite-esque” glamor, in favor of a more personable look, though still decked out.

Filianore: The daughter we know even less of than Gwynevere, but thanks to a certain reddit thread that discussed how dedicated NK was to her via the floral carvings that is present in Archdragon peak… She must have been someone who NK was VERY close with, so I interpret her as the “Always trying to bring life to the family” kind of sister, though closest to her eldest brother.

Gwyndolin: The Dark Sun himself. Not much else to say here, I just wanted to draw him happy for once… Because WHY FROM? He really, really needs it.


The Daughters of Chaos

Quelana, Mother of Pyromancy: Due to her own title, I interpret her as the Studious Daughter, incredibly dedicated to her craft and always finding out ways to further her pyromancy… Until the Chaos Flame incident happened of course… Then she became wracked with survivor’s guilt…

I also interpret her as being the responsible one looking out to make sure her sisters don’t do anything too brash… Though in hindsight, that would make her suvivor’s guilt worse.

Quelaag: The most well known Chaos Daughter, and whom I interpret as The Aggressive Daughter, hence why she’s the only one of the sisters with a melee weapon. As the most in-your-face daughter I head-canon that she is the one who lowers down her hood the most, especially when she feels like challenging someone. Also VERY protective of her family.

Quelaan, The Fair Lady: Last but not least, I interpret Quelaan as always having been the shyest and nicest of the daughters. Her hood is more drooped down compared to Quelana, to highlight her shyness.

Fun fact, while trying to find her real name, turns out the name Quelaan was the name the community gave to her, and just became established fanon, so I just opted to name her just that.


Third Row: Other Members of the Larger Pantheon

All-Father Lloyd: Gwyn’s uncle, founder of the Way of White. Now there IS speculation that he’s not real, but here I interpret as the real deal, and thus looks like a wimpier, older version of Gwyn, yet still has an aura of authority. I used a bit of Paladin Leeroy for his crown, because I interpret that, when he REALLY needs to get his hands dirty, he too wields a mace, setting an example to all paladin-esque worshipers after him.

His clothes are tattered despite being the godly equivalent of a pontiff, to highlight two things:

One, despite him being a “lord”, his tattered look is to signify he is not “above” the rabble/his followers.

Two, I head-canon him becoming slowly more insane and full of hate toward the undead,as more and more of his family and friends either dies off or leaving home… He eventually disappears for unknown reasons and becomes forgotten.

Fina, Goddess of Love: The most popular candidate for Gwyn’s wife, or at least his first, I wanted to design her with the Embraced Set in mind, just modified to look more queenly rather than armor. Going by the general fanon, I interpret her as the mother of both NK and Gwynevere, but due to unknown circumstances, just up-and-left. Why? I dunno I haven’t thought that deep :(

Also wanted to try out and giving her a different look, skin-tone and facial wise compared to all the other gods and goddesses out there.

Velka, Goddess of Sin: My favorite goddess, her lore and weaponry associated with her is cool, but even with DS3 and all its DLC, I wish we got to know more of her and how she even became the one to hold the title of “goddess of sin” and how she absolves it. She is also, I noticed in fan-art and fanfic, the other most popular candidate for Gwyn’s wife.

Due to the fact that both Gwyndolin and Filianore are associated with illusions and magic, I interpret her as the mother of Filianore and Gwyndolin. She has sharp features and very pale skin, and share’s Filianore’s dark hair.

For her design, I compared aspects of the Statue of Velka from DS3, and both Oswald of Carim and Cromwell the pardoner. I didn’t want her to strictly dress like Oswald and Cromwell, so I incorporated more feathers to her outfit to give her a more “regal” look, as befitting a goddess, and not just pardoner. Funnily enough, with her book of sins and outfit, she also gives the aura of a medieval judge.

Caitha, Goddess of Tears: The third goddess associated with Carim, and one that I intentionally kept her eyes hidden. Mentioned in both 2 and 3, I want to reflect her constant “mourning” nature, and since ‘Gentle Prayer’ is associated with her chime in DS3, I thought her being in a position of prayer would be most appropriate.

Nahr Alma, God of Blood and Murder: Take Titchy Gren, make him more beast-like in proportion, now make him the size of Father Ariandel with the animalistic agility of the Orphan of Kos or Slave Knight Gael, and you have the God of Blood himself. I interpret him as a kind of god that is shunned by the rest, and is mostly treated as an attack dog, and nothing more. REALLY resents the other gods.

One more from this long list of prompts, completely unprompted.

Number Eighty-Five: “They got you a present. Isn’t it sweet?”


“Der, we got another one!”

Derek sighed, put down his fork, and glared up at the doorway where Stiles was about to appear with the mail. It was bad enough the mailman rang the doorbell in the middle of breakfast, but for another damn proposal? They should’ve just pretended they weren’t home.

“It’s from the McMullen pack in…Montana, that’s a new one,” Stiles announced as he shuffled back into the kitchen in his boxers, a large box in his hands. “And look, they got you a present. Isn’t it sweet?”

Derek rolled his eyes and went back to his eggs. “Just throw it away.”

Stiles made no moves to throw it away. He set it down on the corner of the table between their plates, and Derek had to grab his coffee mug before it spilled.

“You’re not even going to open it?” He drummed his fingers on top of it excitedly. Stiles loved opening packages. “What if it’s something cool?”

“It’s never something cool.”

“That’s a lie. The last one was great.” He still looked thrilled over the badly cross-stitched Den, Sweet Den hanging over the toilet. Derek glared.

“As soon as I get Lydia here to clear out the ash, I’m taking it down and it’s going in the garbage.”

Stiles finally gave up and sat back down to his meal, leaving the box right where it was. “I can’t believe you would insult Marjorie’s hard work like that. You know she’s a powerful alpha from a powerful pack.”

The accompanying proposal letter had stated as much, a number of times.

Derek pointedly moved the box to the floor. “A powerful alpha, but not a skilled cross-stitcher.”

“Big words from the guy who buys new jeans every other week because he can’t fix a tiny tear.”

“I can, I just don’t want to. It looks tacky.” And unlike Stiles, who spent all of his college years learning to sew his clothes back together to save money, Derek could afford to buy new ones.

That, and the entire town was still kind of waiting for him to be hauled off in cuffs for murder, and wearing tattered and worn out clothes tended to make them whisper about that poor sheriff’s boy, he deserves someone nicer. They always learned shortly after that Derek was the nicer of the two when that poor sheriff’s boy turned around and cussed them out until Derek dragged him away.

Stiles scoffed. “Throwing away unopened gifts is tacky!”

“Sending proposals to an engaged man is tacky.”

“Can you really blame them for trying? I’d be all over that if I wasn’t already.” Stiles ran a hand up Derek’s thigh to punctuate his point, while taking a casual sip of his coffee as if he were doing nothing of the sort.

“I can and I will. And at the very least, we’re sending it back.”

Stiles pouted, brushing Derek’s thigh with his thumb like it would change his mind. “But what if it’s a new frying pan? We’ve been needing one of those.”

“I’ll buy you a new frying pan. We’re sending it back.”

“We might as well get something out of all this harassment.”

“How about the satisfaction of saying no to every single one?” That was enough for Derek, but apparently not for Stiles, who blinked at him imploringly. Combined with his rumpled bedhead, it almost worked.

“But I can’t make breakfast in satisfaction.”

Derek leaned over to give him a compensatory kiss. “You can barely make breakfast in a frying pan.”

Stiles’ hand dropped from his thigh and he narrowed his eyes.

“Wow, okay, see if I ever make you breakfast ever again.” Derek grinned, but that just egged him on. “Actually no, I’m going to make you shitty breakfasts all the time! In the proposal frying pan!”

“We don’t know it’s a pan, and we’re not keeping it even if it is.”

“Oh come on! We deserve gifts after all this bullshit.” He gestured with his fork to their life in general, which also included the large hole in the drywall from a cursed statuette an angry pack had sent last month after Derek politely returned their proposal.

Derek refused to give in. He was not going to play nice in response to insult after insult.

“Stiles, why the hell would I want to keep gifts from packs I’ve never met who are trying to bribe me away from my fiance?”

Stiles pressed his lips together to try not to smile, but he failed. The whole being engaged thing was still new, they were both still a little giddy about it.

“We should send wedding invitations to all of them,” he said gleefully, and there was his petty streak. He’d been taking all these formal proposals surprisingly well and in good humor considering they were all trying to lure Derek into bringing Hale prestige to their packs.

“No. Then they’ll just send bigger gifts to try to change my mind.”

Stiles smirked. “And I‘m going to keep all of them.”

Derek rolled his eyes but gave Stiles the kiss he was puckering up for.

“Do you love yourself,” he asked
And the answer twitched on my lips.

“Some days.
Some days I feel like I can take on the world. Where I’m so full of light and self love that nothing can stop me from being happy. Where I feel like I can reach the sky and paint it whatever color I imagine.
Where love is synonymous with you, me, us, them, everyone.

But other days I feel so weak.
So small.
I wonder how I ever felt so great about myself or life and I find all these things that shouldn’t mean anything to me and I pick at them until I fall apart.
I wrap myself up in tattered pieces of cloth and tell myself I am warm even though I’m shivering.”

— 

- But at least I can love myself some days.

( @readyfornothing )

so, my buddy littledivinity and i have been talking beauty & the beast a lot, because ‘tis the season, and we somehow stumbled upon the idea of the story being told about a middle aged belle and the beast instead of youngins, and how that would make the story even more resonant.

and then just now i randomly thought, “what if nicole kidman and ewan mcgregor starred in such a film?”, because my soul needs nicole kidman and ewan mcgregor to fall in love again on a movie screen like it needs few other things in this life. plus, you know, musical, bright colors, awesomeness, hurrah!

and then i thought, ‘but wait, actually, what i really want in this life, even more than brightly colored musicals, is more lowkey and lovely fairytale movies like exquisite and incomparable 1998 masterpiece ever after

and just picture it!

nicole kidman is the longtime spinster school teacher who lives in a quaint vaguely magical 19th century-esque country village, but she’s a badass teacher who exposes her students to different philosophies of thought and probably takes them outside for nature studies and calisthenics. (so, basically, miss stacy from anne of green gables.) the school board hates her, probably, and is very suspicious of what kind of IDEAS she’s filling the local kids’ heads with (why does she keep saying it’s okay for girls not to want to be wives and mothers, or that it’s all right for boys to cry???? is it possible that she is A WITCH???), but her parents were very well regarded in the town when they were still alive and so that bought her some respect for awhile. but there’s a new fancy schmancy family with school aged kids in town, and they’re extremely disapproving of miss nicole, and trying to find a way to oust her as schoolteacher and replace her with a man who is probably very similar in temperament to mr. collins from pride & prejudice. a man who will put patriarchal gender roles back into childhood education!

meanwhile, ewan mcgregor is a grumpy old hermit duke or something who once had great wealth and privilege but has fallen into disrepair. maybe someone cursed (magically? complicated vengeance-ly, a la the count of monte cristo? who knows) his family long ago due to their shady rich people business dealings, and his father killed himself to escape the scandal and his mother died of heartbreak and his fiancee who he thought loved him steadfastly dumped him to marry another, and now ewan’s the last surviving member of his once-great family and he just lives alone this grand old manor house that has gone totally to seed. he isn’t an actual beast, because it seems like in this day and age that’s going to require levels of CGI that my quaint b&tb retelling movie just don’t need, but let’s say that he’s quite unshaven and dirty and generally off-putting and he sometimes ventures out into the forest that separates his estate from the village, but is never seen actually frequenting the village. there are abundant rumors that the forest and manor house are haunted by a beast/ghost/warlock/vampire (how does he SURVIVE if he doesn’t come to the weekly market for food???), and everyone knows you don’t go there. also, people like to gossip a ton about his family and the scandal even though it was decades ago and they all dead. because people suck.

so one night, some of nicole’s rowdy teen pupils maybe steal some wine from one of their parents’ liquor cabinets and venture into the woods and dare each other to go past the gate of his manor house, and he catches them at it and gets HELLA PISSED @ THESE UPPITY HOOLIGANS INVADING HIS PROPERTY. kids today!!!!!!!!! he probably locks them in the stables so he can deliver them a 5 hour lecture on why they suck, and also why all of humanity sucks. which isn’t the worst fate ever, but, like, he kind of looks like a straight up crazy ax murderer (crazy hair! crazy beard! tattered clothes! definitely hasn’t bathed this month!!!), so there’s some serious panic in the hearts of these kids.

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Dream Daddy Cult Ending

Okay, so I’ve gone through Dream Daddy’s files, and have found the cult ending! I’m pretty sure you can’t actually get this ending, but I wanted to share it. I know I got frustrated trying to find it online.

CULT ENDING BELOW CUT

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Shakespeare Aesthetics
  • Macbeth: the howl of wolves, moonless nights, dirt under fingernails, stained silk, chattering teeth, voices hoarse and cracked, rotting fruit, echoing drums, dry heaving, hanging cobwebs, stifling humidity, bloodshot eyes, the roughness of rusted steel, wild rosebushes, muscle cramps, the sound of splintering wood
  • A Midsummer's Night Dream: Crackling fires, ivy crawling on stone, the faint music of running water, petrichor, dirty, bare feet, tattered clothing, thistledown, wilted wildflower crowns, late evening birdsong, curling leaves, a symphony of croaking frogs, drifting feathers, the eerie sound of windchimes at night, humming bees, beds of clover
  • Romeo and Juliet: Warm golden lamplight, worn shoes, crumbling brick walls, whispered poetry, embroidered satin, cool, hazy mornings, tousled hair, rosewater, flushed cheeks, distant orchestras, unfinished marble statues, cobblestoned streets, loose threads, ink smudged on parchment, tapping fingers, dust illuminated by sunlight
  • Hamlet: Shattered glass, a cluster of fraying ribbons, unanswered knocks on doors, lingering dampness, white noise, inexplicable drafts, migraines, bleeding ears, the taste of metal, reflected mirrors, dry, cracked lips, the sound of tearing paper, fogged windows, memories of dreams, tarnished silver, protruding veins
Poseidon

Greek Gods Series
Prologue Poseidon Ares Aphrodite Apollo Hades Hermes Zeus
Ship: Pirate! Mina | Pirate!Reader | Merman!Jimin
Description: Pirate!AU | Beginning your new life as a pirate had its hardships- and it all started with something called Fate.
Warnings: Fingering, Oral, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism? Violence, Assault, Angst, Death
Word Count: 15,257
A/N: Cover finally up! Enjoy the first part of this series! It took me forever to write.

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When intentions are lost in translation

For @snowbaz-feda day 29. Baz takes care of Simon, and Simon accuses Baz of plotting.

SIMON:

I didn’t want to go off and kill them all, I thought I could fight the beasts and chase them away, but there are too many of them and none of my spells are coming out right and there are cuts across my body where they’ve slashed me with their claws and I can’t. I can’t fight them. The sword drops from my hand, the magic spills over, and I feel the explosion at the same moment I hit the ground.

BAZ:

Snow barely makes it through the door and to his bed before he collapses, his upper body slumped across the bed with the rest of him still hanging off it, knees scraping the floor. I wait for him to heave himself the rest of the way up, but he doesn’t move. I can smell blood, and his shirt is torn in a few places.

I ignore the sensation of my fangs filling my mouth and cautiously step closer.

‘Snow?’

There’s no answer, not even a groan, and he’s still not moving. I take in the dishevelled state of his hair and the scars on his back, visible through the tears in the fabric of his shirt, and I forget all about keeping my distance and rush to his side. I grab his wrist.

There’s a pulse, but it’s slow and irregular, and he seems to be struggling to breathe.

Up close the smell of blood is stronger, and I can see that he’s unconscious. Whatever it was has seriously hurt him. He starts to slump back towards the ground and I catch him with an arm around his shoulders. I try to figure out how to move him onto the bed with the least physical contact possible. In the end, I scoop him up with my other arm under his knees, and I try not to hold him too close as I lift him up and gently lay him on his back on the bed.

I take out my wand and spell away the tattered remains of his shirt, dropping them onto the floor for him to deal with later. There are cuts and wounds all over his chest, some bleeding quite badly, and his face looks pale underneath all the blood and grime and he looks like he could be dead. There’s a strange ache in the pit of my stomach, and I won’t pretend I don’t know what it is. (It’s the feeling of seeing the one you love close to death, and realising how close you are to losing him.)

I cast every healing spell I can think of, repeating them over and over, until the scars finally start to shrink and the colour returns to his cheeks.

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The Adventures of Spidey-Prom!

Seriously it’s probably not healthy how much I love Spiderman!Prompto! I didn’t know I needed it until @destiny-islanders drew the freaking CUTEST art for it. Please check it out. It’s good for the soul, trust me.

Anyway, enjoy this little bit inspired by their art! :D HOPE YOU ENJOY!


This is your costume?”

Ignis’ voice rang almost shrilly in the small apartment complex, but Prompto was far too busy checking out the newest wounds to his body to pay much attention to what the man was saying - instead, he puffed out his chest and propped his hands on his hips, admiring the new slim and toned muscles that stood out starkly in the bad lighting.

“It sure is!” Prompto replied boldly, eyes squinting as pride welled in his chest.

So what if those thugs had landed a few hits and made him look like a bruised potato - he’d totally won in the end.

“It’s a cotton sweatshirt.” Ignis replied flatly, his widened eyes were evidence of his complete horror of the aspect as he held up the tattered garment of clothing.

“It’s not just a sweatshirt,” The blond replied, a small pout forming on his face as spun on his feet to swipe away the bloody clothes. “It’s my identity. Every superhero needs one.” He explained readily, ruffling out the sweater to examine the newest tears and ruffles. “It’s a part of me now.” He dramatically hugged the cloth to his chest, a small smirk forming on the edge of his lips as he thought about his most recent venture -

…that…hadn’t gone…exactly as planned…

But he’d still won!

Prompto could visibly see Ignis roll his eyes from the side, the older man reaching up a hand to adjust his glasses in an exasperated show of exhaustion. “Prompto, do you believe the police simply roll out of bed in the morning and seek out the local gangs in a pair of joggers and a sweatshirt? Their attire consists of at least some sort of protection - a bullet proof vest -”

“Pah -” Prompto interrupted with a scoff, waving a hand in front of him. “Last time I checked, cops can’t climb up freaking walls and lift a car without breakin’ a sweat.” The blond propped his hands on his hips and shot Ignis a wink, which the man returned with a twitch of his eyebrow that Prompto had quickly come to realize was onset to a migraine. “‘Sides,” he waved a hand as he tossed back the article of clothing, “I need my costume to be flexible, ya know - gotta make way for these babies.”

Another eye twitch followed when Prompto flexed his arms in the white tank top he was now donning, though he let out a sharp hiss of pain as he grabbed at his newly bandaged arm.

“How formidable.” Ignis replied dully, shaking his head as he stared down at the sweater.

“So are ya gonna sew it or not? I’m probably gonna need it by tomorrow. Duty calls, ya know.”

Ignis’s hands flopped down in front of him as he stared deadpan at the younger man. “You’re not seriously going to do this again -” Ignis cut himself off as he slapped a hand to his forehead before scrubbing it dramatically down his face. “Prompto - you’ve barely a grasp on your abilities, why on earth you are so eager to get yourself killed!?”

“‘Cause a superhero’s work is never done! It’s like Cor said -” He cleared his throat and straightened up to mimic the man, “With great power comes great responsibility. And uh - I’ve got great power now - so might as well be greatly responsible with it and kick some bad guy butt!”

The sound of the buzzing cars outside the tiny apartment complex was the only sound audible as Ignis’s green eyes bore holes into Prompto’s own, and the young man couldn’t help but fidget nervously under the gaze.

After a moment a long, very Ignis-y sigh escaped from the older man’s mouth, the glasses on his face sliding down slightly as he once again stared at the sweater that might as well have been a piece of trash for all the way that he regarded it.

“I cannot believe you’ve worn this for the last three months and survived.” Green-eyes flashed up to Prompto as he held up the sweater. “You’re either brilliant and sufficient, or incredibly stupid and lucky. My bet is on the ladder.” Almond lips pressed together as he made his way over to the small dresser drawer that held various needles and thread.

“Orrr - just super awesome -”

“Or perhaps an utter moron -”

“Could a moron do this!?

“Do - WHA -”

Ignis’s voice was immediately cut off when Prompto skipped over to where he was and effortlessly braced a hand under his back and on his thighs, effortlessly pushing against them to  lift the man above his head with a loud laugh.

“Howd’ya like that - eh, Ignis!?”

PROMPTO! Put me down this INSTANT!” Was his friend’s immediate retort, the struggle that he was giving against him making Prompto’s arms quiver slightly - but not nearly enough to undo his hold.

Prompto barked out another laugh, keeping his arms locked even as Ignis squirmed above him. “Not such a moron now, huh?”

“Prompto Argentum, I swear to the Astrals if you do not set me down in two seconds -!”

“Alright, alright -”

Prompto heard Ignis yelp slightly when the younger man released his grip entirely, stepping back just enough so that he could catch Ignis in his waiting arms, dodging a swipe to his head before he set the man back down on his feet.

“You ever do such a thing again…” Ignis huffed, shooting him a vicious glare as he straightened out his ruffled sleeves.

The blond chuckled, stepping his way back over to the mirror, “So how’s about it - gonna help me? Wanna be my sidekick?” Prompto chippered as if he hadn’t just lifted the taller, more muscular man like a dumbbell. He rubbed his arm slightly as the slight strain had flared the ache in his bruised muscles.

A scoff followed the remark, “I’ll have to pass, thank you.” Ignis replied with a knowing glare in his direction, but, regardless, proceeded to pick up the needle and thread that was situated on the dresser.

“Whelp - position is open if you ever wanna apply!” Prompto replied with a happy smile, turning back to face the mirror.

He wish he could say that the muscles that he now admired in the mirror before him were from the months of hard work, and to be honest, he had been working hard to improve himself for a while now, but this type of improvement wasn’t exactly his doing.

Three months ago was when everything changed. Everything.

He’d been a scrawny kid three months ago - lacking confidence to approach anyone…especially a certain prince-like classmate of his that he’d admired since grade school. It’s not as though they hadn’t known about each other, and Prompto had managed to muster the courage to say hello and introduce himself on the first day of high school, but it was only recently that he’d felt that they’d made significant strides in their relationship when Prompto finally gained the confidence to make it a point to become his friend - and it was going very well.

Prompto was suddenly very glad that Ignis was focused on sewing the sweatshirt as a noticeable flush crawled up the blond’s neck and face - no wait - his entire body.

He’d decided to return the favor the gods had, for some reason, chosen to give him and fight evil in the world in repayment for this new life he was living - and well…yeah that part needed some work, but he was doing his best! Just tonight he’d managed to stop a robbery of a sweet older lady. The thugs hadn’t seen him coming at all - but, unfortunately, Prompto was still a bit shabby when it came to the fighting…so he’d taken home a few bruises and cuts as souvenirs, but he’d still beat their asses, called the cops, and saved the day.

Though, if it wasn’t for Ignis he probably would be in way worse shape - the man was pretty good at dressing his wounds. Ignis had found out about a week ago who he truly was…how the man was able to see through him he’d never know. Prompto still wasn’t sure he believed Ignis’s reasoning of “you’ve been behaving oddly. It seemed the most likely conclusion” - it was like he just knew. Maybe Ignis had his own spidey-sense - either way, despite that, tonight was the first night that Ignis had seen his outfit -

Psh. Who cared what he thought. His outfit was awesome. And…yeah no one would know that was him…right?

If he kept up like this, trained himself a bit - he was certain he’d become an awesome comic book superhero in no time - how hard could it be?

He shook his head, smiling to himself.

He couldn’t believe he was actually having these thoughts.

Three months ago…yeah - everything had changed.

~

Three months ago:

Prompto’s hands clasped behind his back as he stared at the large city around him, eyes squinting slightly at the morning sun that shone brightly down upon the research facility. The group of his high school classmates milled around the entrance to the building, waiting for instruction from their teacher, Mr. Weskham, to allow them in to begin the tour of the arachnid center they were about to visit.

To be honest, he didn’t really care too much about that, he was just hoping that a certain friend of his didn’t over sleep the field trip today.

He adjusted his glasses with his hand as he looked around, bouncing excitedly on his feet as the anticipation to get inside chewed at him.

He loved this stuff. He didn’t like spiders too much…but the tech inside was going to blow his mind - he could feel it. Maybe he’d even get a chance to browse one of their computers - maybe log away a few notes for the one that he was currently building himself.

Psh. Noct was right. He really was a technophile.

Ah, speak of the devil.

Prompto chuckled to himself as he briefly saw what must have been a knowing exchange between him and his father as they talked behind the windows of the flashy car, and a second later the door opened and out stepped Noct - also known as the Prince of Insomnia Inc. He saw the young man toss his dad a look over his shoulder as he straightened out his backpack, and it was with a roll of his eyes that he turned back to make his way up the stairs and away from the car.

Prompto was satisfied to see Noct’s face noticeably morph into something softer and - well - less annoyed as he trotted up the stairs. Prompto tossed him a happy wave which Noct returned with a nod.

“Heyaz!” The blond piped cheerily, his heart thudding in a familiar sense of excitement at the sight of the handsome face.

“Hey.” Noct responded with an easy smile, the typical mellowness of his tone somehow sending another spike of adrenaline through his heart.

“Ready to check out some creepy crawlies?” Prompto wiggled his fingers at the dark-haired teen’s face before he adjusted the camera strap around his neck, falling into a steady pace beside Noct as they walked up the stairs.

“I’m more ready to take a nap.”

“Dude, the lecture hasn’t even started yet.”

Noct let out a loud yawn, stretching his arms out on either side of him. “Exactly.”

Prompto chuckled, pausing slightly as he lifted the camera up to his face to snap a picture of the large building.

Field trip day was always interesting, especially when it involved checking out the nastiest things on earth - Prompto hated bugs, hated them. But he couldn’t deny that he was somewhat fascinated by them as well. Just because they were ugly didn’t mean they couldn’t be interesting, and besides, he was more interested in the technology they were bound to see in the research facility.

~

“Dude…this is the most advanced electron microscope on the Eastern Seaboard…” Prompto’s voice dripped with awe as he stared wide-eyed at the giant device in front of him, his hands fumbling with the camera to snap a few pictures.

“Wow.” Noct mumbled from beside him, clearly disinterested as they followed the voice of the woman ahead of them.

“For example, the delena spider, family sparassidae, has the ability to jump to catch its prey.”

“Eww…” Noct whispered, though his disgust clearly gave way to his curiosity as he leaned forward to observe the spider that the woman was talking about, head tilting as he noticed the little bug do exactly what she described as it jumped from one small twig to the next in its cage.

Prompto chuckled, though he stepped up next to Noct and lifted his camera to his face.

“For the school paper?” Prompto asked, eyes questioning as he looked up at the lecturer.

She offered him a side smile and nodded in permission.

He angled the camera so that he was able to zoom in on the little arachnid - but he grunted when he felt himself shoved from behind, the picture he was about to take snapped a lovely, blurry picture of the small hide instead of the spider.

Prompto furrowed his brows as he looked behind him, noting the obviously satisfied sneer of the blond that stood behind him.

Loqi.

“Leave him alone.” Noct snarled, glaring vehemently at the other blond.

“Or what?” One of Loqi’s lackeys lip curled in challenge.

“Or his father will fire your father.” Loqi sneered, shoving Noct slightly as he got into his face. “What’s daddy gonna do - sue me?”

Prompto almost jumped forward when he noticed Noct’s fist twitch at his side - but he was saved the trouble of holding him back when the dirty-blond was suddenly grabbed by the arm as Mr. Weskham pulled him back, shooting the both of them a harsh glare.

What is going on?” He hissed, glaring at all four of them. When no one answered, his voice darkened in seriousness. “The next person who talks will fail this course. Understood?”  

The four remained silent, but Prompto’s heart skipped a beat when Noct reached behind him and grabbed his arm, pulling him forward and away from the small scene.

“Tsch.” The dark-haired teen scoffed, releasing Prompto’s arm as they made their way around the shelves.

“Those guys are jerks.” Prompto mumbled from beside him, earning a very Noct-like smile in return.

He loved those smiles.

“Yeah.” He mumbled, taking a breath as he looked around them.

Prompto watched as Noct milled around in front of him, bending slightly to look at the small collection of spiders that were neatly stacked in the plastic caging. “Yuuuucckkk…”

Prompto chuckled at the noise, but lifted his camera regardless. “Hey -”

Noct turned to face him, eyebrow quirking when he noticed the camera.

“I need one with a student in it.” Violet-blue eyes sparkled when Noct smiled, making a show of adjusting his tie.

“Don’t make me look ugly.” Noct said, eyes half-lidded with a small smirk as he propped an arm up on the small shelf.

Prompto could feel the heat bloom in his cheeks as he chuckled smally, looking shyly down at his camera as he readied it. “Oh, that’s impossible.” He almost hoped Noct hadn’t heard him, but the smile that his friend gave was evidence enough that he had. “Alrighty…” The blond stepped back slightly, angling the camera by his blushing face so that he captured a good view of the microscope and various arachnids with Noct by the side.

Prompto chuckled as Noct smiled easily for the shot, and he clicked the camera several times to snap the picture. “Alriiigghhhttt -” The blond’s face lit up in another bright smile as Noct posed again, pointing to the various spiders next to him. He knew the pictures he was taking now weren’t necessarily of the spiders or microscope…

Heh. These ones didn’t necessarily have to be in the school paper…

“Argentum! Caelum!”

Prompto and Noct’s head whipped over to where Weshkham stood, arms folded against his chest. They could see the rest of the class a good distance ahead of them.

Noct shot Prompto a look before he reluctantly moved ahead, and Prompto rapidly scrambled to put the cover back on the lens before he made to follow -

“YEEOW!”

The liquid fire pain that shot through Prompto’s hand in that instant was enough to send him stumbling back as his hand whipped back from the sudden, intense pain that tore through it. His face contorted into shock as he grasped at his hand, looking down to see a red circle surrounding white, blotchy skin - with two small dots in the center. His heart beat rapidly as he looked down at the ground - just in time to see a tiny spot of an oddly colored spider scramble away underneath a nearby shelf.

“Shit…” He breathed, brows pinching as the pain circling the bite mark dulled to something hot and numb.

“Chop, chop, Prompto!”

The blond’s head whipped up as he saw Noct a small ways away from him, waving him over with a patient smile.

He waved his hand once, hoping that it would alleviate some of the pain, but Noct’s smile was drawing him forward, and he donned an easy smile as he skipped his way towards his friend -

Doing his very best to ignore the sickening feeling pooling in his stomach and the small pain that was trickling up his arm.

Little did he know that from that moment on, his destiny had completely changed.


Hope you guys enjoyed! I LOVED WRITING THIS! SO MUCH FUN - thank you again to @destiny-islanders for making such awesome art - really made my day. :D

Stay tuned for more adventures with Spidey-Prom! :D

3

Fandom:
Riverdale
Imagine:
Being Jughead’s girlfriend and going missing on the same day of Jason’s death (Part 2)

Part 1


Keep reading

anonymous asked:

"Who are you?" (Magnus/Alec)

At first, Magnus only intended to give Alec silent treatment for a short while, to make him understand how much he hurt him. To punish him for lying, just for a couple of days. He called Alec after what he thought was a suitable amount of time, only for his call to go straight to voicemail. It didn’t surprise him, not really. They were both busy men these days. And if Magnus had to be honest with himself, he was even a little relieved too. He wasn’t looking forward to the confrontation that would surely evolve into yet another argument.

But then none of his calls were picked up. His texts went unanswered. His fire messages didn’t receive a response. Before he noticed it, three weeks have passed and Magnus finally portalled to the Institute, determined to find his boyfriend and finally clear the air.

“Isabelle!” Magnus called out as soon as he saw Izzy in the main operations room. She was talking to Jace, showing him something on one of the screens. She turned towards him when she heard his voice. “Do you know where I can find Alexander? He hasn’t been returning my calls.”

Izzy blinked at him owlishly for a moment before her eyebrows drew together in a frown.

“Who’s Alexander?”

And that was when Magnus knew that something went very, very wrong.



Magnus stepped out of the portal that opened next to his desired location, the one he learned about after his tracking spell had finally ran its course. He was still reeling from his meeting with Imogen Herondale that happened a couple hours ago, after he portalled directly to Alicante and stomped into her office, hell bent on finding answers.

Alec was found guilty of treason, she said. He had been collaborating with Downworlders - namely Lucian Greymark - and revealed to him crucial information that could lead to an all-out war with the nephilim. As a punishment for the betrayal, Alec had been stripped of his runes and cast away into the mundane world. But as if that wasn’t enough, Imogen also deemed him a security threat, because even as a mundane Alec still would have sight and still could do irreparable damage. She had a warlock come from the London Institute and take Alec’s memories, as well as wipe the memories of everyone connected to him. Alec wouldn’t remember a thing from his previous life, apart from his first name. No one would remember that he had existed. Not his siblings, or his parents, or his friends.

No one except for Magnus.

Magnus wasn’t sure if it was a small mercy or an error in judgment. Or maybe the foreign warlock didn’t have the guts to directly assault a High Warlock. Magnus didn’t know the reason. He didn’t particularly care.

He found Alec sitting on the ground, curled up with his back against the brick wall, knees drawn up and arms resting on them. He looked as if he was trying to intentionally make himself smaller, hiding his face away from the view. It was a chilly evening and the young man was shivering, the tattered clothes he was wearing doing little to keep the cold at bay. Magnus felt tears gathering in his eyes as he took in the scars visible on the exposed skin, red and raw-looking, surely as painful as they looked. Alec was thinner, much thinner, as if he hadn’t eaten in a long time. And seeing that he had been homeless for over two weeks, Magnus was pretty sure that it wasn’t very far off from the truth.

“Oh, Alexander,” he whispered as he knelt on the ground next to Alec, reaching out to touch his arm but hesitating, not sure if his touch would be welcome or not.

Alec flinched at the sound of his voice, obviously lost in thoughts before and turned quickly to look at Magnus. Magnus saw no spark of recognition in his eyes and it made his heart break all over again.

“Who are you?” Alec asked, his voice laced with suspicion. “And how do you know my name?”

“My name is Magnus,” the warlock said, gently, as if he was afraid one false move would make Alec bolt, “and I’m here to take you home.”

  • me: I know this sounds crazy but.... I'm you, from the future
  • past me: [sees that I'm wearing tattered clothes, my hair shaggy, facial scruff unshaven, and have a haunted look of exhaustion in my eyes]
  • past me: you look like hell, did the apocalypse happen? is that what you're here to warn me about?
  • me: What? No, just, uh... I'm just like this now.
Enchantress (Beast/Adam Imagines)

Request : May I request that the reader is the enchantress that lays the curse on the Beast but instead of Belle breaking he spell, its the Enchantress that stays with him? - @lewaotic


Originally posted by braedens

You were the enchantress, also known as (y/n). Your job was to fix people for the better. Which is how you got in this situation.

 "Please, may I come in I’m really cold and sick.“ You coughed into your hand as the rain hit your back. "I can give you this.” You raised your hand to show Prince Adam a single rose.

 He laughed in your face. “Only beautiful people are aloud in here so I’m afraid you are going to have to leave.” Adam looked you up and down and looked away in disgust.

Keep reading

He Calls Me Kitty (Damian Wayne x Reader)


Where this came from? Good question. It popped into my head last night and I knew I needed to write it. This one is probably going to be a chaptered fic, but I’m not sure if it will be romance or friend ship yet.

Trigger warnings: Violence, mentions of death, really vague mentions of rape, and swearing

Part Two

Originally posted by 0sungoddess0


Being able to shape shift from one animal to another could be really cool, you learned that from experience. When your parents were still alive you would shift to your (hair color) haired cat. It was a fun party trick which you did only with your loving family. You were treasured for being ‘extraordinary’ and special child. It was a fun relaxing life as a human kitten hybrid.

Being able to shapeshift into a cat could also be very useful, a lesson you learned from a different experience. After your parents perished you needed to fend for yourself, sometimes strangers were more kind to a kitten starved and thin that a little child in tattered clothes begging for food to survive. Other times being a cat meant you could twist around in small spaces and reach hard to get food when you needed it.

Being able to shapeshift into a cat could also really suck, an experience you are learning right now.

Keep reading

Centuries in the Making: Part 6

Prompt: Description: An average human, an Original Vampire, and a bond so strong no magic can break it. New Orleans is in for a hell of a ride.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5


You move around the kitchen as quietly as you can, painfully aware that you’re in a house full of vampires. Despite this fact, when you turn around to find a woman watching you, you nearly have a heart attack.

    She gives you a small smile, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

    You place a hand over your heart, “It’s becoming the norm.” That’s when you notice Hope in her arms. You give her a small smile, “You must be Hayley, Hope’s mother. Rebekah told me about you.”

    She smiles back, “And you must be Y/N. Klaus gave me about three sentences of information on you.”

    You shrug, “Not much to tell, to be honest.”

    She takes a seat, Hope still fast asleep in her arms, “Soulmate to one of the original vampires, Rebekah’s roommate for eight months, my daughter’s babysitter? There has to be something else there.”

    You shrug, “Sorry to disappoint.”

    “What about your family?”

    You smile, and slide the plate of food you’d made in front of her, “Woefully normal. They run a small business, in a small town, in Georgia.”

    “Siblings?”

    You nod, “Three older brothers, all married with kids.”

    “So, you’re the youngest?”

    You nod, “I go back about twice a year, spoil my nieces and nephews rotten, fill them up on sugar, and then run out of town.”

    She lets out a laugh, “So slightly diabolical. You’ll fit in well.” She takes a bit of the eggs with her free hand and lets out a groan, “This is amazing.”

    “Mama made sure all her kids knew how to cook. My brother Lionel is the best. Owns a small restaurant in town. It’s always packed.” She simply takes another bite of food and you start fixing more. The kitchen remains quiet except for the sound of eggs in the skillet, right up until Klaus walks in.

    He’s wearing a grin that you know means trouble, “Good morning, all.”

    Seamlessly, Hayley passes Hope to her father, and you can see the suspicion on her face, “And why are you in such a good mood?”

    “The planning of a murder always puts me in a good mood. As the mother of my child, you should know that. What doesn’t put me in a good mood is finding out that you left our daughter in the hands of an elderly wolf while you went and saved a traitor with a man who is apparently my biological father raised from the dead.”

    You move the food off the heat, and move across the kitchen. You take Hope from her father’s arms and you’re more than a little surprised to find that he simply passes her to you. Fully awake now, the baby snuggles into your chest while her parents argue. You bounce her, and when the first punch flies, you immediately head up stairs.

    You take her into your room, and find Elijah there. He’s awake and dressed, and he smiles at the sight of you. “I see we have a visitor.”

    You pass the baby to Elijah, “Hayley and Klaus are fighting, apparently his father is back from the dead.”

    He nods, “That’s what my brother was confronting my mother about last night. It’s her bribe to get him to accept her deal.”

    You sit at the end of the bed “To become human?”

    He nods, and sits next to you, “Indeed… you seem to be handling this all very well.”

    “Surprises me, too. I imagine a freakout will come at some point. Just not yet.” There’s the sound of crashes down stairs, and Hope’s lips start to pucker. Your hands immediately go to your face for an impromptu game of peekaboo. It keeps the baby calm until the crashes stop, and her mother comes to the door.

    Her clothes are tattered, and her hair is in disarray. She smiles at you, “Thanks for getting her out of there.”

“No problem.” She takes the baby from Elijah’s arms.

“Klaus and I are taking Hope to the Bayou for the day. It won’t be long before word starts to spread, and we might have come up with a way to gain her more protection.”

Elijah’s hand covers your own, “Good luck.”

She smiles, “Thanks, we’re going to need it.”

You watch her go, and when she closes the door, you turn to Elijah, “Does this mean we have time to ourselves? Like normal time? No werewolves chasing us? No witches coming straight for us? No psychotic parents?”

He lets out a laugh, “Not at the moment.”

“Then what are we going to do with ourselves?”

He pulls you onto his lap, “I thought we could go shopping. Replace the things you lost when your home was attacked.”

You pause at that, “Speaking of which, have you heard from Rebekah? It’s been a few days.”

Elijah kisses you, “Your concern is touching, but I assure you the matter has been taken care of.”

You look at him, “Taken care of how?”

He kisses you again, and you can feel your stomach fill with butterflies, “I sent an old friend of hers to locate her. He’s quite capable, I assure you.” You stare at him for a moment, before standing up and going to get dressed in something other than pajamas.

Elijah had always had a bit of a problem with spoiling the women he loved and cared about. He’d always been willing to buy Rebekah whatever she wished despite his sister having assets of her own. The same could be said of Katerina, and later Celeste.

But with you he found it was different. You searched for practical things, instead of high end places. You were used to a budget, and you shopped with the eye of a bargain hunter. The two of you had argued for ten minutes when he’d laid down his credit card.

You’d argued that you had a modest savings and that you were not going to mooch off of him. He had argued that the two of you were connected for the rest of eternity and what was his was yours. In the end, you had compromised. He had let you buy the clothes at your chosen store, but he got to buy at his chosen store.

You’d been willing to humor him, until you saw where he was dragging you to. You’d turned around and started walking the other way, but he had captured your hand and led you in with all the confidence of someone who regularly bought nine thousand dollar suits.

It hadn’t been everyday wear, instead it was party dresses and ballgowns. The kind your mother had bought for homecoming court and the annual county pageant. On the other hand, Elijah had better taste than your mother. He was also very smart, he refused to let you see the price tag of anything he bought. You decided to let it go. Relationships were about give and take, and you’d both won a little something today.

Still, by the time you got home you were more than a little exhausted. Shopping had that power over you. Your mother had been the queen of all day shopping trips. “Well it’s about bloody time you got back.” You eyes stop on the blonde in sitting in front of you, “Elijah please tell me you didn’t let her pick her own clothes.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him smile, “Y/N is a big girl, I assure you, and more than capable of picking out her own outfits. Welcome home, sister.”

Rebekah simply rolls her eyes, “Three days I wandered around that town with a werewolf bite, and instead of coming yourself, you send Marcel?”

Elijah sets the bags down, “I’m afraid I’ve been a bit busy.”

Her eyes narrow, “With what, exactly?”

You watch as a small smile takes over his face, “She said my words Rebekah, and I said hers. They match.”

You watch her eyes go wide, and in the blink of an eye she’s in front of you, “Show me.” It’s a demand if you’ve ever heard one, and you briefly consider asking her what the magic word is. Instead, you pull your shirt down and slightly over to show her Elijah’s words on your skin.

The smile that takes over her face is one of joy, and a second later she has her brother in a hug, “You are forgiven.” She squeezes him tight, “I am so happy for you ‘Lijah.”

He kisses her cheek, “Thank you, Rebekah.”

She turns to you, “That makes you my sister, and me a matchmaker.” You open your mouth to contradict that statement but before you can the sound of bickering hits your ears. As Rebekah walks out to see what’s going, on you smile at Elijah, and he smiles back. In three long strides, he’s in front of you, and then he’s kissing you. You sink into the kiss, and smile.

When a window breaks, you sigh, and follow him out into the courtyard. As you watch him break up the spat between his siblings, you can’t help but realize that this is your new normal, and despite the craziness of it all, you know this is where you’re supposed to be.