stories brought to life

The Ballad of Rezyl Azzir

1.

Long ago, in ages past,

Before both walls and City bright,

There lived a man, mountain-strong,

Who burned with unmatched inner light.


Proud he was, and passing brave,

His doughtiness no lie,

But as a Risen, reckless, too -

The curse of those who never die.


Rezyl Azzir, he was called,

His strength known far across the land,

For he was of the chosen few,

Who held great power in their hands.


In time his kind would find a name -

Titans, they’d be called -

But in that age of long-lost tales,

It mattered not at all.


Rezyl watched his people swell,

Watched factions rise and threaten hope,

Then watched his people march to hang

On conflict’s many-braided rope.


Rezyl watched as war began,

Watched war threaten all they’d built,

War would bring the sorry fall

Of a rose that was now doomed to wilt.


Perhaps the Fallen brought relief,

For Rezyl now could fight,

Not against his common man,

But against the coming night.


He welcomed hope, reborn anew,

Welcomed purpose shared by all,

But deep within his ancient bones,

He knew that every age must fall.


He strove for hope as best he could,

Never ceased his valiant fight,

But he thought oft upon their safety,

And on the nearness of the night.


Every eve, as Luna rose,

Rezyl sat alone and stared,

He’d think on writhing Darkness,

And wonder what lurked there.


2.

His legend grew, as legends may,

While Rezyl battled on and on,

With his rifle he slew the foes

Of the City’s new-come dawn.


Inferno, he named his mighty gun,

And it was near as known as he,

For it dealt death to Rezyl’s foes

And kept his people free.


Once, he thought to hunt a Kell,

To his wary Ghost’s dismay,

So he hatched a daring plan

Unheard of, to this day.


He let himself be captured,

Even let himself be slain!

When his killers marveled at their trophy,

Rezyl rose again.


The Kell had him in its four-armed grip,

Raised Rezyl’s conquered body high,

Then Rezyl’s Ghost revived him,

And the Kell’s plans went awry.


Rezyl’s cannon coughed but once,

Sent ether pouring from its throat,

And when the gathered Fallen charged him,

Arc-light washed away their hope.


*


He often led the pilgrim trains

That sought the City’s hopeful glow,

He saved as many as he could

Saved more than we shall ever know.


He grew weary nonetheless,

Of such small victories,

And often wondered what it would take

To bring the Darkness to its knees.


He never looked but far ahead,

Never dwelt on what he’d done,

For despite the pilgrims’ brave resolve,

He knew that death would someday come.


For strange things lingered in long-lost tales;

Horrors that refused to fade,

Nightmares that he’d never seen,

Monsters that lacked even a name.


And so it was, when Luna rose,

That Rezyl could not help but stare,

Perhaps he gazed upon its scars,

And saw himself reflected there.


3.

At last, Rezyl sought the truth

Of tales he hoped were lies -

Luna called, and Rezyl went

To see the moon with his own eyes.


What he found there left him shaken,

Shafts and burrows gnawed in stone,

He worried that those whispered fears

Now called Luna home.


His Ghost alight, he traveled deep,

Ran past worms and moths and spores

Until he came upon a place

Barred by ancient, curving doors.


Deep within his aged bones,

He felt a presence drawing near,

And heard a whisper - not of glory,

But the keening trill of fear.


Metal screeched, and Rezyl spun,

He saw the ancient doors yawn wide,

A shape resolved within the air,

For something dwelt inside.


From the pit a woman rose,

Tattered rags about her face,

Around her wound a mantle dark,

Wove of cursed lace.


She floated there, beyond the gate,

And fixed him with her stare,

Then she turned and disappeared,

As though offering a dare.


His Ghost was wary, for they’d delved deep,

And now were far from Light,

But Rezyl, as was always true,

Would not give up the fight.


“Stay here,” he told his wary Ghost,

“And should I fall then flee,

For I am but a single man,

And our cause has need of thee.


“Warn the City of what we’ve found,

Tell them Pirates aren’t the worst,

For deep within our moon’s torn flesh,

We’ve found an even darker curse.”


The Titan stood, embraced the night,

Valiantly he crossed the gate,

All around him, Darkness thickened,

As he strode onwards to his fate.


Time stopped - or rather, it stretched on

While Rezyl sought his foe;

That wicked woman, wrapped in night,

That harbinger of woe.


In that place of endless night,

He could but sense the witch,

With bullet-spark he chased her down,

Through caves as black as pitch.


She choked him with her magics dark,

Rezyl shuddered at her call,

He found he could not move an inch -

The demon had him in her thrall.


Inferno was his answer, then,

His mighty rifle roared and spat,

Illuminated with hot lead

That fiend the Dark itself begat.


Up she loomed, that wicked thing,

As though she’d won herself a bet,

As though she’d brought the Titan there,

And now her trap was set.


She laughed, and laughed, and Rezyl flinched,

For every writhing word brought pain,

He felt her screams saw at his bones,

And burrow towards his brain.


She whispered words in Rezyl’s ear,

In the way a lover might;

But promised pain and endless sorrow,

Promised ever-falling night.


“I am Xyor,” hissed the witch,

“She who’ll show you to your grave,

Betrothed, Blessed; my dear, sweet thing,

I’m the storm that you must brave.”


His ears bled crimson at her voice,

As all around him terrors woke,

Fiends that hid beyond the light

And hungered for his hope.


Rezyl tensed, his rifle close,

He’d heard the torture on her tongue,

Felt pain embrace his ancient bones -

And knew he could not run.


From deep within that hellish pit,

A flood of horrors now arose,

Birthed from sorrowed, shadowed night

They chittered as they closed.


Rezyl stood, a wall of might,

Against him crashed the snarling wave,

Inferno broke their crushing strength,

Left countless dead in dusty graves.


Then at last, the trigger clicked,

Inferno gave its final gasp,

And Rezyl fought with fists alone,

And skulls cracked in his grasp.


Around his body talons closed,

So Rezyl spun, then drew -

From his hip he pulled his Rose -

His cannon always saw him through.


He killed and killed, his Rose ablaze,

Around him demons wailed and fell,

All the while the witch did watch,

As though she wove a silent spell.


Then she shrieked, and the flood let up,

At once the chittering was done,

Rezyl stood and caught his breath

For he knew he’d not yet won.


Steps rang out against the night,

A shape approached him from the deep,

A mass of ornate, armored bone,

A nightmare woken from its sleep.


Even doughty Rezyl paused

As it lumbered into view

It carried in its massive claw

A wicked sword to run him through.


Perhaps it had been valiant once,

A hero to its kind,

Perhaps, like Rezyl, it was old,

And to combat was resigned.


He faced the monster, head held high,

And could not stop his grin,

He’d come to find the dark unknown -

Instead it had found him.


Perhaps within, he himself

Had heard a whispered voice

A buried cry that howled ‘good!’

And reveled in his choice.


The creature roared, and Rezyl shot,

His Rose kicked in his palm,

He fanned the hammer, fast and sure,

As the demon witch looked on.


A shield it conjured, black as night,

Blocked the bullets from his Rose,

They fell, harmless, to the stones

That paved the catacomb.


Its magic faltered, the black shield waned,

His foe lifted its sword apace,

Rezyl growled at the sight

Of the doom he’d been reborn to face.


The battle-cry of demon spawn

Echoed in immortal ears,

Rezyl’s challenge rang out bright,

And he charged to meet his fears.


We know not what happened then,

‘Til Rezyl found his wary Ghost,

For of his mortal battle,

Rezyl would not boast.


Rezyl lived, that much is sure,

Survived both witch and wicked knight,

But unknowingly brought with him

The witch’s clawing blight.


He never spoke of her demise,

Never claimed he’d torn her down,

Perhaps within that ancient pit,

Rezyl’s fate was caught and bound.


Inferno’s end remains unknown,

The mighty rifle Darkness stole,

Perhaps the witch still holds it,

And through her pit it now patrols.


It matters not, for we know this:

In that place of grim repose,

Rezyl sat, and without a thought

He tended to his Rose.


Taking spoils from his test,

Rezyl grafted bones to steel,

Until chiton crowned his Rose

And its flower was concealed.


You know just how this story ends,

With a mighty hero left unmourned,

With whispered nightmares brought to life,

With the jagged kiss of thorns.


- Cryptarch Records // Anonymous

‘Love’ was this word in your brain kind of synonymous with ‘mutually assured destruction’. It was the excuse your mother gave for why you were meant to fall asleep to the sound of her screaming and crying most nights, the thuds and breaking glass, your suitcase always packed and your mind running escape plans.

Romance isn’t something you ever really felt comfortable with, despite a persistent low-humming loneliness and a soppy heart. You felt like there was theoretically someone out there, but they seemed like they’d have to be such a weirdly specific bundle of things - and even if you found them you’d started to hate yourself so much you couldn’t imagine them ever reciprocating. You stop even considering it, I guess. Years ago.

Then.. You meet this person. And you get this weird pull in your gut, like the video game UI signalling to the player they’re on the right path. But your brain is on edge and your life is in pieces and you misread their sincerity as everything /but/ that, and it almost takes too long to see who they really are. You have to salvage your friendship from the mess that unfolded.
But things work out. Better than that, even. Maybe the bad stuff even ended up bringing you closer together. Life is weird.

You decide to get on a plane for the first time, fly halfway around the world. Everything feels strange and kind of magic (but goofy and awkward and human) and you feel alive for the first time in years.
So you get to have your first kiss at 26, with someone who understands. And you fall asleep night after night all limbs tangled, their face gently illuminated by the yellow glow of their Super Mario lamp, and feel this completely different type of happiness
and awe
at someone else’s existence.

I know, life doesn’t have happy endings. Two people don’t meet and fall in love and.. that’s that, that’s the whole thing sorted, everything will be grand and good forever. There’ll be bills and crappy dayjobs and all the costs of travel and paperwork and health issues and family stuff and countless other things that might go wrong, and things we both already deal with, and not to mention the world is a mess right now, too. But knowing this amazing person would be by your side through all of that makes it feel worthwhile, gives it direction and purpose and warmth like there wasn’t before.

And my brain still wants to catastrophize – what if? All these ways caring about someone might hurt. All these ways I’ve seen other people get hurt. But when someone makes your life so much richer and calmer with their presence, and inspires you to want to try harder and be better and kinder, because you see how hard they work and how much of their heart they put into their creative work and their relationships? When someone gives you those moments where you can’t help but grin like a huge dork just at the sight of their beautiful face? Those worries melt away. There’s no other choice.

~

To echo something @destiny-smasher said: this all happened because we played this little French video game with these two characters we fell in love with and related with, and a dissatisfying ending that kept us creating fan content afterwards.
That story pushed me to realise you can’t live your life worrying about the future, trying to second guess what might go wrong, being too scared to embrace the present.
That story, and it’s fandom, got me through one of the lowest points of my life.
That story brought me and @destiny-smasher together.
I don’t think there’s a way to sufficiently say thank you for that. To dontnod. To any of you.

But, thank you.

The Naked Truth

Written by: @peetaspikelets

Dialogue Prompt: this has got to be the strangest day of my life…(submitted by @xerxia31)

Rating: M (for nudity and language)

A/N: I need to thank Mr Pikelet for helping me bring this story to life. He brought ‘an event’ to my attention and after my initial shock and a bit of a giggle I thought I have to everlark this some how. 

A BIG thank you to my beta @sponsormusings for her amazing guidance, support and advice. I would be lost without you!

Enjoy!

Keep reading

It really pisses me off, when the black sails fandom doesn’t agree with where the story is going, so they claim it’s just bad writing. Like, how dare you? I get the story is dark and violent and the end is probably going to be a shitshow, but that’s what we’ve been in for since the beginning. Besides have you been paying attention to what sort of shit is being aired lately?

Never before have I seen a show, that would have such deep and comprehensive writing, such involvement with its characters and their development. Even the good stuff I’ve watched had many unnecessary scenes just to pass time, thoughtless writing or bad acting at some point, but with black sails every single detail is always perfect.

The writing of the female characters is the best I’ve seen so far. They could have written them as most similar shows do - as strong cunning wives who are in charge of men, without them knowing it (alright, maybe except for grandma Guthrie). But no, they fucking LEAD THE SHOW, with no compromises. (Max creating herself with nothing else but her wits and refusing to stand behind a husband for appearances. Anne being a fierce pirate who can literally kill anyone that gets in her way- and they are still sooo much more than that)

And Madi… her decision not to take the deal even if that threatens Silvers life- it wasn’t shown as a sacrifice nor as a lack of affection towards him. If it were truly badly written, she would feel the same as silver does, but she is much stronger than him. She is simply someone who believes in freedom and would selflessly give everything up, not only for the benefit of her people, but for everyone who was opressed by the colonial rule. Something that is completely incomprehensible to a colonial shit like rogers.

The writers of black sails did not just try to include diversity in the show for ratings or baiting groups of audiences- they’ve built the whole damn story upon it.

The writers and the cast have brought characters and their stories to life in a way i have never seen before, and I’m really afraid that I will never see anything quite like it again.

So, no matter how this ends i would like to say how much I appreciate this show (and the amazing cast of course) and I hope everyone else in this fandom does too.

It’s the weekly graphic novel round-up!

8HOUSE: ARCLIGHT

A lady of the blood house has had her mind trapped in a strange alien body. She was hiding on the outskirts of her kingdom until she learns that an alien monster pretending to be her has taken her place. BRANDON GRAHAM (KING CITY, PROPHET, ISLAND) and MARIAN CHURCHLAND (BEAST) bring you sharp genderqueer knights, blood magic, death gods, astral projection, and a goose. Collects ARCLIGHT #1-4

OVER THE GARDEN WALL

Based on the hit Cartoon Network miniseries created by Pat McHale, brand-new adventures await Greg and Jason Funderburker as they explore the uncharted depths of the Unknown, and pick up a few unusual friends along the way. On the other side of the forest, the Woodsman’s daughter, Anna, begins her own journey and quickly learns what it takes to survive on her own, especially once she’s confronted by the Beast. Collects issues #1-4 of the Eisner Award-winning, ongoing series. Jim Campbell returns to write and illustrate Greg’s latest travels through the Unknown, and Anna’s story is brought to life by show co-writer Amalia Levari and artist Cara McGee.

DC COMICS BOMBSHELLS Vol. 3: Uprising

Based on the hit DC Collectibles product line! As World War II rages across Europe, the Allied forces issue a call to arms for the greatest heroines the world has ever known! With an old villain arising from beyond the grave, Wonder Woman, Batwoman, Kara Starikov, Kortni Duginova and Mera must aid the Allied forces while at home, a brave group of Batgirls must defend the homeland!

The incredibly popular DC Collectibles line is brought to life in these stories that reimagine the course of history! From writer Marguerite Bennett (BATGIRL, EARTH 2: WORLD’S END) and featuring artists including Marguerite Sauvage (HINTERKIND), Laura Braga (Witchblade) and Mirka Andolfo (Chaos) comes DC COMICS: BOMBSHELLS VOL. 3 collects #13-18.

THE UNBEATABLE SQUIRREL GIRL Vol. 5

Collects The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl (2015B) #12-16.

Squirrel Girl takes Nancy to visit her mom in Canada! What could possibly go wrong, right? How about the return of a super villain not seen for more than a decade? One that will prompt the inter-species team-up you’ve been waiting for: squirrels and ants! And also Squirrel Girl and Ant-Man. It’ll be huge! Or tiny. Then, when Taskmaster strikes, with his uncanny ability to duplicate any super-type’s sweet moves, who will stand between him and total domination? You probably guessed Doreen Green, but you’re wrong! It’s actually Nancy’s cat, Mew! It’s a story of one feline, and all the feels. Plus: To celebrate the 25th anniversary of our unbeatable hero, her co-creator Will Murray returns to write only his second-ever Squirrel Girl tale — and he’s bringing the Hulk!

TAKE THAT, ADOLF!

Between 1941 and 1945, Hitler was pummeled on comic book covers by everyone from Captain America to Wonder Woman. Take That, Adolf! is an oversized compilation of more than 500 stunningly restored comics covers published during World War II, featuring America’s greatest super-villain. From Superman and Daredevil to propaganda and racism, Take That, Adolf! is a fascinating look at how legendary creators such as Joe Simon, Jack Kirby, Alex Schomburg, Will Eisner, and Lou Fine entertained millions of kids on the home front and buoyed the spirits of GIs fighting overseas by using Adolf Hitler as a punching bag.

Th1rteen R3asons Why: Prepare to Be Obsessed.

SPOILERS AHEAD. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!

I thought for this recap/review  I would stick to the theme with 13 reasons of my own.

13 reasons why I LOVED  (or Not Loved) THIS SHOW (and BOOK)

The Loved List

1. The Cast - Katherine Langford (Hannah) is amazing (some Aussie pride over here!) and I feel she does total justice to the lead character, she made it completely believable and relatable.  I also loved seeing Ross Butler (Zach) in another role, as I already love him as Reggie in The CWs Riverdale! Only wish we could’ve seen more of him. It’s always an honour to have Kate Walsh (Hannah’s mom) grace the screen, I’ve been a fan since Private Practice. I felt that all the cast were perfectly chosen and brought their characters stories to life in a magical way. I couldn’t imagine any of the roles with another actor. They were amazing and a great fresh young cast who I am sure will soon be taking Hollywood by storm! 

2. The Narrative Format - I absolutely LOVE Jay Asher’s narrative concept for this story. The tapes, the voice, the whole idea and concept just adds to the whole kind of ‘thrilling’ feeling which perfectly suits the haunting story of Hannah Baker. I think it’s an extremely unique narrative and it works so well with this particular theme and topic by adding so much more depth and emotion to the story. I don’t reckon that such an important and serious theme could’ve been addressed half as well or as appropriately with any other narrative. It worked perfectly together.

3. The Storylines - The storylines are all fabulous. The book and main storyline about the suicide of Hannah Baker and what lead her to her decision is something I think is extremely important to tell in today’s society with teen depression and cases of teen suicide scarily on the rise and being one  of the leading causes for teen death. It’s haunting, it’s honest, it’s raw, and most importantly it’s so damn real.  Also the individual story for each ‘character’ / ‘tape’ / ‘episode’ are so incredible. Each character has their own unique storyline of how they fitted into Hannah’s life and became a part of her final decision. Most of the stories were exceptionally well suited to their respective character , but some of them left me sad as I really expected more from those characters (especially Zach & Justin but more on them later). Having said that though, it was all fitting to the main story, and wouldn’t have been the same otherwise.

4. The Characters - All of the characters were relatable and wonderfully portrayed. One of my favourite characters was Zach -  mainly because he is played by Ross Butler, but I honestly think he was one of the nicer guys and I really feel like Hannah could’ve come to a different outcome if she’d given him more of chance instead of just brushing him off - but I do also understand she had her reasons for reacting the way she did. I really enjoyed watching each character’s story unfold through out this series as they each had an extremely unique and definite personality, and story. Justin was a character I also enjoyed as I could really feel his pain, and I think he was not a bad guy, but his life lead him to make a couple of bad decisions himself. Everyone has their own demons that they’re battling against and I think that this show perfectly portrays this how all of us are dealing with our own personal issues which cause things to work out the way they do. (I love how the show focuses on each of the characters and also explores the aftermath of how listening to the tapes affected each of their lives (whereas the book only really concentrates on Clays thoughts as he is listening to the tapes and doesn’t really give us much background into the other characters, the show really gives us insight into each of their personal lives and their relationships with one another).

5. The Interweaving -  I also loved seeing in the show how each of the characters were connected to one another and how their relationships are affected by the demise of Hannah. Of course all of them have played some part in her final decision and it’s heartbreaking for them to realise the consequences of what they had done, even though for most of them it was unintentional. They now also become connected by all their secrets as the 13 of them are now fully aware of the secrets of each other and they have to work together to try and keep Hannah’s accusations and their guilt from going ‘public’ which they’re all afraid the ‘stand up, good guy’ , Clay might do - as even Hannah admits - ‘one of these things is not like the others’ and Clay in a sense doesn’t really belong on the list - but I guess Hannah feels she owes him a kind of explanation.

6. The Acting -  The acting is mostly brilliant in this show. I have to give special recognition to the actor Justin Prentice in this segment as I think he did a phenomenal job. Justin Prentice played the character of ‘Bryce Walker’ who is basically the ‘villain’ of the season, he is pig headed and absolutely disgusting , typical jock type guy with less than ZERO respect for women (and his friends) who thinks his money can buy him out of any problem and get him whatever he wantes. He honestly had me HATING him at the end of this show, and I had developed kind of a personal vendetta against him wishing he’d been the one who was dead in Hannah’s stead. Only a few days later I was watching an interview (13 reasons why: beyond the reasons - special available on Netflix under trailers and more) and I realised - ‘Crap. Like he’s (Prentice) a hot, genuinely cool guy. Bryce is just a character.’ He explained how hard it was to bring this character to life. It was a real challenge as it would’ve I’m sure hit a few nerves and touched on a LOT of raw emotions, and sensitive issues. So major props to him for creating such a believable character!

7. Tony & His Mustang -  Tony, played by Christian Navarro, is like half the reason to love this show. Man, Tony is just so effortlessly suave and sexy (but sorry ladies - he’s gay!) and he just happens to continuously appear at the right place and at the right time. I love his kind of mysterious, guardian angel aura that portrays on the show as he follows Clay around and supports him as he tries to get through listening to the tapes. Not that he needs another reason to be sexier but he drives and adores his vintage, red MUSTANG! Dayum! (I’m not sure if I loved Tony or the ‘Mustang’ more to be honest haha) …. He was a major part of the shows success and It wouldn’t have been half as incredible without him in it. 

8.The Messages-  I think that all in all the message that this show tells is one of EXTREME importance : It needs to be heard. It raises awareness of a very important issue which should not be hushed out and kept silent. It’s a shout out to a number of groups too. To Depressed Teens : SILENCE IS NOT STRENGTH!!! PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE. OPEN UP TO SOMEONE. If you’re thinking sad, depressive and suicidal thoughts, don’t keep them bottled up inside your mind, speak about them, say them out loud, admit your feelings don’t hide them away from those around you. People can’t help you if they don’t know what’s going on inside your head. Some one will always be willing to listen. You just have to speak to the right person. To Teenagers (Humans) in general : DON’T BE AN A**HOLE. You never know how what you do may affect some one and slowly be chipping away at their identity. Be kind. Show Respect! and LISTEN. Read between the lines, be there for people, and provide a ‘safe space’ and an opportunity for them to reach out. Don’t ignore subtle hints! Take EVERYTHING seriously, let them know they are loved. Let them know you CARE! To Adults , Parents and Councellors. Be PRESENT. Be AVAILABLE. Don’t undermine their feelings. If something is troubling them - it’s troubling them for a valid reason - don’t make them feel silly, or like they are over reacting. If they are upset they HAVE THE ABSOLUTE RIGHT TO FEEL THE WAY THEY DO. Help them overcome it, help them deal with it and remember: the worst thing you can tell someone who is hurting is to ‘MOVE ON’. Their emotions are ALWAYS justified - don’t disrespect their feelings by minimising them. To EVERYONE - whatever we say or do can affect someone else in ways we could never know or imagine. Pay attention to how you treat others! 

The Not so Loved List

8.  The Sexist Themes - I really was affected by the sexism portrayed especially as it’s not just a show and / or story - this is happening IN REAL LIFE. Boys today (and I’m sorry for generalising here, I admit I know it’s not all of you, I know there are still stand-up, genuine gentlemen somewhere out there, they just happen to be the exception rather than the rule these days) have such a little, if any respect for the female body. In this show particularly, it’s as if the girls are viewed as a trophy or a plaything and nothing more - they are not treated as respected, independent, strong individuals - but rather they (girls) are expected to just be taken advantage of allow the boys to ‘take’ their own pleasure from them ( I say this because of two separate rape incidents within this story where the girls did NOT give consent and yet the boys went ahead anyway taking advantage of the vulnerability). Girls are viewed a prize or possession something which can be owned and just because they ‘have the hottest ass’ or the ‘best lips’ now every guy has the ‘right’ (sarcasm here) to just grab the ass, or make out with her whenever he feels like it. It’s absolute rubbish. Any guy who thinks like this is madly flawed in his reasoning - under NO CIRCUMSTANCE should a girl EVER BE TOUCHED UNLESS SHE HAS GRANTED HIS PERMISSION TO DO SO. (And the same goes for guys! Girls shouldn’t throw themselves over them unless the attraction and desire is MUTUALLY acknowledged). It’s a two way thing and BOTH PARTIES involved should have an EQUAL say! Mutual respect is important in any relationship. It doesn’t take much longer to take the time to say, ‘this is what we’re about to do? Is that okay with you?’ make them feel secure and supported.

9.  The Teenage Stupidity -  I was horrified once again by the realisation that this is how teenagers actually treat eachother. More than just in the book or series this is REAL LIFE. It’s so sad to think about how stupid, and naive and unintentional actions can have such harsh, and permanent consequences. I am so glad I am no longer in high school right now - if I had to see these things going on around me I’d be crushed. When did our generation become so cruel? so uncaring? This is not the kind of future we want to raise our kids into .. is it? Let’s get some respect and healthy relationships back into fashion. Let’s raise our girls to be strong, confident, loving and trusting and our boys to be protective, caring, kind and respectful. We are the future and it starts with us! Let’s not just ignore overlook the seriousness of these issues. BE THE CHANGE YOU WANT TO SEE IN THE WORLD, have a little chat with the (WO)MAN in the MIRROR!

10. The Selfishness - There are more than one areas where I felt selfishness could’ve been avoided and Hannah’s story could’ve had a different outcome. First instance is with the other characters - each of them performed selfish actions (Alex selfishly wrote the list to make himself feel better and get his revenge on Jess, Ryan selfishly published Hannah’s private poem, Bryce, Marcus and Tyler all used Hannah to selfishly satisfy themselves in their own ways). Second instance is Hannah herself - she was extremely selfish in her final decision. Suicide is a selfish choice, and a selfish action. I know it may sound cruel and harsh - but it’s true. When you decide to take your own life, it’s something you want to do to end your pain because you feel that you can’t go on with life anymore. But do you stop to think about those who are left behind? After you’re gone - they’re the ones who will be left struggling with the aftermath, with a hole in their hearts and an emptiness in their life because of what you CHOSE to do. It’s always a choice. Another interesting point brought out in the special is that suicide of a friend / classmate can affect people so much that it often drives another person to suicide. (As happened in this show when Alex also shoots himself in the end). It’s heartbreaking for those left behind, and do you really want to make your loved ones suffer a pain worse than what you yourself has been going through? Especially if you haven’t really given them the chance to help you overcome what ever it is you are facing.

11. The Lack of Support -  I was especially disappointed in Hannah’s parents, Mr. Porter and Hannah’s “Peer Communications” class and teacher. All of these groups had a chance to support / help Hannah. She tried to talk to her parents, but because they were so worried about the business all the time, she felt like she would only be burdening them unnecessarily, she thought she was strong enough to do it without them, and they were too distracted to notice that she was going through some really rough things. They didn’t make themselves available and Hannah didn’t feel like she could talk to them.  Hannah made a reach out to her ‘Peer Communications’ class in the anonymous discussion bag with a note about suicidal thoughts but the class laughed it off, and thought it was some one looking for attention, the teacher didn’t realise it was actually a cry for help (but in all fairness Hannah refused to come forward - so what was she expected to do?). Hannah however did come forward and try to reach out to Mr. Porter, the school councellor, after she was raped by Bryce and what did he tell her ‘If she didn’t want to report it, or confront him, Bryce would be leaving the school in a few months and her best option was to ‘move on’.’ What an absolute disgrace!! It’s no wonder he became the 13th Reason why! She said in so many words that she just ‘Wanted life to stop’ but he didn’t take her seriously enough and that same day she went home and did what she felt was the only thing she could. 

12. Clay - I found myself getting annoyed with Clay ALOT through out the series (he was a little less irritating in the book) … He felt like a weak, pointless character other than being the one to deliver the contents of the tapes to us. I felt like he didn’t have much depth, or wasn’t all to interesting to watch. He was trying to fight the tapes instead of just listening to them and getting the full story for Hannah. Luckily Tony (the hero of the story) was there to set him straight at every turn. I do like the fact that Clay stood up to Mr. Porter at the end as he so wisely said ‘It’s got to change. The way we treat each other.’ I did also respect that he was probably the only guy spotlighted in the series that didn’t try to take advantage of Hannah.

13. Hannah’s Choice(s) - This may seem a little unfair and I know Hannah had her reasons for her final choice, and I understand why she felt like she had to do what she did, I do, but I also think that there were a few instances where she could’ve made a different choice and all in all this could’ve lead to a very different outcome for her. In a sense I feel that she set herself up for failure. She made choices which allowed her to justify her decision.  One mistake I think Hannah made was not giving Zach a chance, I might be wrong here, and maybe he would’ve used her like all the other guys, but he seemed genuinely concerned for her after Marcus’ stunt! She made him look like a fool in front of everyone and then expected him to stand up for her when she ‘tried’ to call out for help? Maybe if she’d just given him a chance and opened up to him when they were in good standing he might have been able to hear her cry for help and respond accordingly. Another missed opportunity was that with Clay - when they were making out at the party she asked him to stop she felt the hurt from all the accusations against her reputation up until that point. He listened, he respected her , he stopped. He was confused, he asked her what was going on, she could’ve broken down and opened up to him then, but what did she do? She pushed him away. She chased him out. If she’d opened up to him, if they’d begun a relationship, she could’ve regained her self-respect and she wouldn’t probably have found herself in a shady situation with Bryce. Bring me to her third mistake NOT REPORTING BRYCE, yes she blamed Mr Porter for telling her ‘move on’ but she did not want to report it or confront Bryce- she didn’t want to see him again. She could’ve and should’ve reported him. She had witnessed Bryce previously rape a barely conscious Jessica (and Justin had seen too)  and if she’d paired up with them they could’ve taken him down and found peace. But Jessica didn’t even know, Justin covered for Bryce and Hannah never told Jessica the truth or confronted either of them until the tapes. If she’d spoken sooner, the outcome could’ve been a different one.


Anyways an AMAZING story completely haunting, gripping and thought provoking! Definitely recommended!!! Even the points on my NOT SO LOVED LIST made the story what it is - and I wouldn’t have changed a single thing - as if Hannah’s story were any different it wouldn’t leave such an important lesson for every single one of us!

I attend a C of E sixth form and in the past my friends from other colleges have heard with horror my stories about Muslim girls forced into communion, assemblies to remind us we will probably go to Hell, and compulsory anti-evolution assemblies - but today, oh my sweet Lord today, one particular Mr. Christian RE teacher has fucking outdone himself.

Last day of Easter term, ready for the awful hour-long communion and “unconventional retake on the traditional story” the organiser of assemblies in the main school is so fond of (which in the past has included a powerpoint titled “Why Radicalisation Can Be Positive (if it’s spreading the Christian message)”, and a detailed explanation as to why Hinduism is one of the greatest evils on the earth), we trek our way and line up and sit down and say a prayer and sing a hymn. And everyone’s favourite Mr. Christian (his first name is Christian. He might have had it changed legally; we’re not sure) stands up at the lectern in his eye-watering electric blue suit and claps his hands and thanks us for being so lovely - but then he introduces his friend. He doesn’t explain who this friend is or why he’s here. We accept it. We prepare, internally, for what must surely come.

This friend proceeds to wheel a train set to the front of the stage. It’s a nice train set. It has lots of greenery and painted mountains and small houses. On the left of the train set is a box covered by a black umbrella with splashes of artistic red-blood paint and draped black netting; on the right of the train set is a green wooden box with, as far as we can tell, an air vent from the wall glued onto it.

I can’t remember the specifics of how it started. We all tuned out. We were ready for as much of a nap as we could get in until we had to stand up for another hymn.
Our attention was soon to be brought back, sharply, to the front.

In this assembly was not just sixth-formers. It was Years 7, 9, 11, and 13. That means that some children in this room, listening to this man speak, are eleven years old. They are new to the world, fresh and bright and lovely. They have only lived through one service at this school before and this was Christmas and they are yet to learn the true horrors of what is in store for them - but truly, none of us could have prepared ourselves for what was to come.
What was to come… To be delivered to school-children.
Impressionable.
Innocent.
Eleven years old.

Quickly, the friend of Mr. Christian sets up a small train on the train set. He does a comic scene with the audience, asking for name suggestions, and pulls out a pre-prepared name tag that reads “LESLIE”. We laugh politely.
He sets Leslie rolling jovially around the train track. Small, innocent, harmless little green-painted Leslie. Leslie wants nothing more than to cruise this train set in peace.
Friend of Mr. Christian quickly picks out several small children from the audience. He brings them up to the stage and gives them a small sheet of paper. The whole audience is then asked to shout at poor, minding-his-own-business Leslie “JESUS DIED FOR YOUR SINS. DO YOU ACCEPT JESUS INTO HIS LIFE?
The first child, at threat of this strange old man with a train set, tremulously reads out from her sheet of paper “No, I want a new football.
We repeat the shout on command. The second child hesitantly declares “No, I want a girlfriend.
This continues while poor, innocent Leslie - Leslie who is a nice train, who treats the other trains well and does no harm and simply wants to chug along this train set - repeatedly refuses to accept Jesus into his life.

Then Friend of Mr. Christian sends the children off the stage, flicks a switch, and sends Leslie careening into Hell.

Leslie was a good train,” he intones, “but he did not accept Jesus into his life. Leslie has gone to Hell.

There are hesitant giggles from the sixth formers. We’re eighteen. We’ve lived with this shit. It’s somewhat full-on, but we don’t know really what to do. Poor Leslie. Leslie is practically a meme already and we’ve known him five minutes.

The small, small, so small, eleven year-old children are silent. They stare at this tiny train, cast onto his side beneath a black umbrella spattered with fake blood and draped in black netted cloth, wheels still rolling sadly as his batteries run down to nothing.

Friend of Mr. Christian proceeds to call up an older boy from the audience. “Now,” he says, “we’re going to imagine that P. here has gone to Hell, just like Leslie. He didn’t accept Jesus into his life, just like Leslie. Do you think we can protect P. from the torment of Hell?
P. is made to put on a high-vis jacket, safety goggles, a hard hat, and oven gloves. He is given a fire extinguisher. A bright, spirited lad, he grins hesitantly out at his teachers and peers, unsure what to make of this whole venture but not displeased to be out on stage. There are nervous titters of laughter. He looks so funny. A high-vis jacket. A fire extinguisher. So strange.

This is useless,” Friend of Mr. Christian says solemnly. “Nothing can protect P. from the torment of Hell.”

P. is removed of his protective gear and sent back to his seat. While everyone sits in uncertain silence, another small (so innocent, so young, so untarnished by the world and its horrors) boy is summoned forth and brought up to the lectern to read a passage from the Bible, laid out ominously on the panel before him. He cannot reach the microphone. He is too young, They are all too young.

The passage describes in graphic detail the torment of a sinner suffering in Hell. The sinner pleas to those who has wronged, who have also died and are now in Heaven, to go back as ghosts to his brothers (who also live in sinful ways) and warn them of what is to come. They refuse.

We don’t get second chances. There is only our one life, and it could end at any minute. And if we don’t accept Jesus into our lives, if we continue to live as sinners…

He gestures at Leslie.

Leslie, on his side, his wheels now still.

Leslie, who just wanted a football and a girlfriend and a job and a house and grandchildren.

Leslie, who now suffers the infinite torments of Hell.

The band plays a hymn. The trumpet is too loud and out of key. The solo singer is nervous and keeps glancing at Friend of Mr. Christian from the corner of her eye. We can see her thoughts, hear the hitch in her voice. Is she going to die now? Is she going to suffer infinite torment as poor little Leslie does? Is it too late?

While the hymn is sung, Friend of Mr. Christian procures another train. He does not ask for names, simply pulls out the name-tag of this train. Its name is Chris.

Chris is a good Christian boy train, we are informed. Chris is ten years old and accepts Jesus into his heart as his Lord and Saviour.

Chris goes on a different path to Leslie. The tiny signal light changes. Chris turns off the main track and up a small hill, past a tiny wooden cross beside the tracks.

Chris has died.

Chris accepted Jesus into his heart. Chris is in Heaven.

There is some more comic relief. A boy with learning disabilities is pulled up onto the stage. He is made to stand on a stool; he is given pink fluffy wings, it is funny. Then he is given a long white robe, and a large white cross, and a strangely-shaped crown-hat.

He looks like a KKK member. We do not say it. We glance at each other. We stifle laughs. He grins obliviously at the audience. He cannot see his hat or his robe. He does not know.

There is little else left to do. We are read out a surreal passage apparently from the actual Bible (although RE students confirm that they have recently written essays about the differences between Islam and Christianity, and one of the main ones, they point out, is that the Bible does not describe Heaven in any more detail than “Great kingdom” and the Qur’an describes Paradise in perfect detail) about the specific dimensions of the Kingdom of Heaven. It is 1500m long and 1500m wide and 1500m tall. He pulls out a world map on which he has drawn a square to show the size of the Kingdom of Heaven.
Isn’t it enormous?” he grins. “Enough room for all those who accept Jesus into their heart.

It isn’t. If the top left corner of Heaven was the border of Scotland, the south border of Heaven would be in Egypt and the east border would cut eastern Europe in half.

Heaven is not very large.

There is certainly not enough room for, when you consider it really and in proportion to how long humans have been around and how many must deserve a place and how many there are of us now… Everyone in this room.

He makes the small children carrying the map walk around the hall again. They walked too fast the first time, their heads bowed and their faces read. They must walk slower. They must hold the map higher. We must all see the Kingdom of Heaven.

We will go if we accept Jesus into our hearts.

Of course, we could also not do that… We could end up… Like Leslie.

But we are good Christian children. We are blessed by our upbringing, the privilege we have to attend this lovely school (the nicest he’s ever visited to do assemblies in, don’t you know).

We have another hymn.

We thank him and say another prayer.

We file out of the single door. We walk past the train set, Chris the train sitting on the edge of Heaven as if about to teeter over the edge, Leslie still and silent in the bottomless pits of Hell; as we pass the doors we are given a leaflet. It reminds us of the meaning of Easter.

We wait until we are outside before we start to scream “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?” and “FUCKING SHIT ME JESUS CHRIST”.

We, the 17-18 year-olds, laugh and tell the group chat about it and manically text our friends about Mr. Christian’s latest crazy exploits.
The 11-15 year-olds are silent and bewildered.

All of us laugh but our laughs are hollow. Leslie, the innocent train who did nothing wrong… Tumbling into Hell. P., smirking beneath his hard hat and clutching his fire extinguisher, being reminded that nothing can save him from Satan’s wrath if he does not repent. The boy grinning at his friends, oblivious, in his long white robe and large white cross and strangely-shaped crown-hat.

The Hall is too small to fit all of the school; the next hour is the turn of Year 8, 10, and 12. We pass them on our way out.

The strongly Catholic head of sixth form pushes between us.

NO,” she is shouting. “They’re not going in there. They’re not being exposed to that. Go back to lessons. Assembly is cancelled. Back to lessons, Year 12!

We cackle with laughter at how ridiculous this whole thing is. The tiny Catholic woman shouting at several hundred children to go back to lesson, the religion in this Christian college is too much for her.

Mr. Christian has already been through three separate public tribunals related to inappropriate or extremist religious behaviour. We have had to deal with multiple spirituality days reminding us to love everyone, regardless of race or religion, and to follow our hearts and think for ourselves.
Will we have more? Is this the end of Mr. Christian and his messages of hatred?

We do not know. He is a living legend and he will continue to be so.
He made two lesbian girls cry once. He ranted about Hell because they were holding hands under the table.
He nearly got fired because he said that community cohesion was a bad thing if it erases the Christian message at a school conference.
He once brought in this guy, right, who had this train set, and one train was perfectly nice but it refused to accept Jesus into its life, so then this train got fucking sent to Hell! In front of eleven year-olds! In an assembly!

Sometimes I struggle to believe that I do not, in fact, live in southern Texas, but in fact in a small largely secular town in the rolling green fields of England.

Mistress Ep.1

Ep. 1: That one time you reunited with old friends.

Some spoilers below the cut.
Written By: Lady Sci & @sweetstrawberrycandy
Banner image credit to: @emerentis
A/N: This story is a spin-off from Tempus Vernum and contains some spoilers.

 The auditorium is packed from wall to wall between the press and the ticket-holders. The air is a little stuffy.  The pounding bass from the speakers makes your body slightly vibrate. You push through a small crowd of backstage workers, poke your head out from behind the curtain, and scan the hundreds of faces for one in particular. Hundreds of faces … you feel a little queasy.  

“Come on. Please show up … You can’t do this to me. Where are you?” You search the pocket of your robe for your cell phone. You whip it out and dial his number, shouting at him through the speaker before he can even greet you.

“Prompto! Where the hell are you?”

“Ugh. I’m SORRY I’m late… We’re almost there,” he replies apologetically.

“WE!?” Your heart starts racing. “Who else is coming!?

As you try to listen to Promoto’s response over the clamor of the auditorium, a staff member from backstage take you by the shoulder. “(Y/N,) you need to get ready. We’re about to start.”

You nod absentmindedly to the staff member and yell into your phone, “GET YOUR ASS HERE RIGHT NOW! I have to go! …” You soften your voice. Prompto is used to your dramatics, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling a little guilty. “…I miss you, Freckles… See you after the show.”

* * *

 Two blondes and a massive brunette enter the auditorium not too long after the phone call. The group consists of Luna, Prompto and Gladio. The usher at the door gives them a hypercritical glare for arriving just as the show is about to begin.

Prompto requests with a nervous chuckle, “d’ya think we could get some seats close to the runway?”

The usher sighs audibly and after rolling his eyes, leads them down a low-lit aisle way. He adds with snark; “you’re lucky the Queen is with you…”

The three, Gladio especially, shuffle awkwardly infront of a row of seated people to the only seats left close enough to the runway. As they sit down, Luna addresses the two boys.

“Thank you for letting me come along, Prompto. When I heard you were coming to see your friend, I asked Noctis if it was alright for me to come along too. So I owe you BOTH thanks. Without Gladio as our formal escort, I wouldn’t have been able to come. It’s been such a long time since anything exciting like this happened in Insomnia.”

Gladio squeezes into one of the tiny, fold down auditorium seats. He grunts. “It’s ok, Lady Luna. I’m just not used to all this noise and the …er… cramped space. Anyways, I didn’t know you were into this sort of thing.”

“I always loved fashion,” Luna smiles. “And this is event is to raise money for the children left homeless after the Starscourge. I thought it fitting to attend.”

Prompto sighs with relief. “I’m just glad we were able to get close to the runway. If she doesn’t see me here, I’ll get in real trouble.”

Luna laughs. “Sounds like a darling girl.”

“She’s the only girl that Prompto can be around besides you that doesn’t give him a nosebleed,” teases Gladio.

“Heh … well. We haven’t seen eachother in a while.”

All of the lights cave in on the runway and after a brief introduction on the spirit of the event, models one after another drift out onto the stage. Their attire fills the auditorium with eccentric colors from artful designs. Sleeves like wings lift behind them. Skirts like water flow around them. A frequency of life oscillates with each swift turn. Harmonics with the essence of Eos herself swell from plumes in their hair and the dazzle of lights that splash in reflection off sequined corsets. The crowd sits in silence, soaking in the rays of the artful display like the vegetation of the earth after the first dawn. Insomnia craves what the show is giving off.

The imaginative spectacle continues for 25 minutes or so and a casual after party is prepared for everyone who attended and all who were a part of the show.

* * *

You arrive at the afterparty in a long black dress with gold details. You feel sleek but comfortable, and the details of gold running along the seams lay a dramatic effect to your silhouette. You’ve gotten there a little bit late. Too much work on your hair, probably. You shoulder through the people and once you find an oasis of space you’re able to spot Gladio as if by a mile away towering over the crowd. You make that your focus point. People are trying to compliment you on your performance as you continue on. You say thank you here and there but you have ONE mission: find the Chocobo butt.

“There you are, sunshine!” you spring out from a cluster of people and wrap your arms around Prompto from behind. He’s holding a drink of something and almost flings it across the hall in surprise.

He turns and embraces you. “Hey there! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yes! Because you traded me for the King, you traitor!” you mess with his hair.

“Ohh, come on!” he laments, pulling you out at arms length. “You know it wasn’t like that. You will always be like a big sister to me. You’re one of my best friends.”

Prompto lays one arm casually across the tops of your shoulders and adds, “So let me introduce you. This is the Queen, Lady Luna Nox Caelum. She and Noct got hitched, ya know? And I’m sure you remember Gladio. ”

You attempt to bow while in Prompto’s hold. “Your majesty. I’m (y/n) Valentine. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Luna lets a gentle smile spread. “Thank you. It’s a pleasure, Miss Valentine. Any friend of Prompto’s is a friend of mine.”

Your eyes jump to Gladio. “Hey there. You’re looking as large and in charge as ever.”

Gladio’s holding a beer. He brings the froth to his lips, takes a swig and grins. “The large got larger and the charge got bigger.”

“If you guys will excuse us, I’d like to kidnap Prompt for a bit. We have so much to catch up on!”

You guide Prompto to a corner where a couple of nice chairs are unaccompanied. The two of you laugh, talk and drink for over an hour, sharing the stories of how life brought you both to where you are now. His friendship with you is the epitome of a TRUE friendship; even with time and distance between you, when you’re together, it’s as if none of the ever existed. You’re able to pick right back up where you left off.

You’ve known Prompto since you were very young. You both grew up in Insomnia foster homes and went to the same school. Your young brain took note on how badly Prompto wanted to know the Prince and curiosity brought you close to him. He turned into your best friend with ease. As you grew into a young woman, he was the only one who saw you for more than just a pretty face. Prompto knew all your fears and all of your dreams. He saw you at your worst and at your best. To see him leave with Noctis all those years ago was more painful than any cliché heartbreak could offer. You were torn. He was the brother you never had.

One of the younger models struts past you and Prompto and gives him a little wink. Prompt turns bright red from the tip of both of his ears.

“So…” you giggle, slightly inebriated. “I see you still freak out with girls. How come? You need to get it together, Argentum! Or I will steal you and take you to one of my practice sessions. You’ll be surrounded by all the pretty girls and HAVE to teach yourself to talk properly to them!”

“What!? No! heh heh! N-no! That won’t be necessary,” he chokes a little.

“I’m just joking!” You laugh and then become very serious. “I really missed you. Please don’t go again. … Or I will KILL that King of yours!”

“Aye!” he covers your mouth so no one catches the slander. “OK! Too much to drink I think!”

You shrug innocently. “Yeah… probably better get back to the hotel.”

“Hotel?” Prompto looks confused. “Why are you staying at a hotel? I’d assume you had a nice penthouse or something uptown.”

“Uh …” you let out a sad little exhale. “I was staying with my parents. But they kicked me out.” You swirl around the cocktail you’ve been sipping. The olive has dropped in and it whirls round and round.

“Oh.My.Gods!” Prompto says excitedly out of the blue. “You should TOTALLY come stay with ME!I have an extra room! It’ll be awesome!”

You feel light swim back into your eyes. You move from the chair and tackle him with another hug. “Did I ever tell you how much I love you!? Really? You’d let me stay with you!? Yes! Ok! Ok.” You step back with a massive grin. “How about tomorrow? Is that too soon? Tomorrow? Because I’d really love to move in like … TOMORROW.”

Prompto laughs and says with a nod of his head, “Of course. I’ll text you the address. But I’d better go find Luna and Gladio. It was really great seeing you. I can’t wait for tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Prompt. You really are my sunshine.” You kiss his cheek and watch as he saunters away.

* * * 

 The following day, you show up at Prompto’s apartment a little bit earlier than scheduled. …just a little bit. You stand in the early morning sunshine and knock gently. After no response, you knock a little harder. You listen closely for footsteps to approach the other side of the door. Nothing. The only sounds are the birds chittering in the trees and the odd car here and there passing behind you on the street.

You pull out your phone and dial Prompto’s number. You coo out happily as soon as he answers the phone; “Good MORNING, Sunshine! I’m HE-ERE! Wake up and open the door, will you? I’m dying for a cup of coffee!”

Prompto responds a little groggily, “Ah? Wha … what time is it?”

“It’s 8am, sunshine! Let’s go!”

You hear a long groan and the sound of the phone’s speaker brushing up against the pillows. “It’s too early! … Just let me get some pants on.”

You wait with your arms crossed until he opens the door and gives you a huge, somewhat sleepy hug. After stepping away, he gawks at the amount of luggage that’s been sitting like the leaning tower of suitcases in the sun behind you.

“That’s – that’s all YOURS?”

“Hehehe. Yes. Why?” You say coyly

“I don’t know where we’re going to put all that.”

“It’s ok. Don’t worry about it right now!” You reply and grab a couple of suit cases, letting yourself inside. “We will figure it out. But for now; COFFEE.”

After you and Prompto reposition the tower of your things to an unaccompanied corner of the living room, he sets off to the kitchen to start brewing coffee.

“Oh! I forgot!” He calls out to you from the other room. “There’s a party tonight at the palace and you’re coming with me! No excuses, young lady! It’ll be a blast!”

“Ehh …ok. I guess it will be good to see Luna again. Aish! I mean the Queen! I’m really bad with protocol.” You grit your teeth a little and settle into the living room couch. You sweep away some chip crumbs from the cushion. There’s an opened bag of some kind of colorful snack on the coffee table.

“It’s fine!” He reenters the room with a cup of coffee for you. “Just do what you do best; look pretty.”

Prompto’s smile always gave you such comfort. And right now as you sink back into the bachelor’s leather couch, imaging being infront of a bunch of people at a royal party, you need some comfort.

Prompto picks up on your thoughts right away as he hands you your coffee. “Are you still worried about being around a bunch of people? I figured after all the modeling, you’d be good to go!”

You take a little sip. “Every time I go to walk out from backstage, it’s confronting that fear. But I know it’s only for a second. Like I walk out, stare at the furthest thing over all those heads, and turn around. At a party though … totally different story.”

“What about the party yesterday after the show?” he sits down next to you. You hear some mystery wrapper crinkling way down underneath the couch.

“Too many people in a small hall to notice me really,” was the only thing you could say. There was more to it though…

Prompto stretched and kicked his feet up on the table, knocking over an empty soda can. “You’re gonna be fine! You’ll be with me!”

For the rest of the day, you unpack in the spare room, help clean up the place, and talk about anything and everything that comes to mind. You relish in the nostalgia. Your cheeks hurt a little after a while of so much laughing. This is going to be good. A good change. Right?

* * *

 For the evening party, you decide to wear a black and silver tulle ballgown with one shoulder strap. The fabric gathers at the waist in jewels. You slip on some pretty but practical heels, they’re hidden under the skirt anyways, and curl your hair until it bounces like springs. When you exit the spare room after hours of meticulous prepping, Prompto is waiting for you in the living room. He’s got a decent suit on, but you notice a few things; the buttons are buttoned unevenly like he missed one, his dress shirt isn’t tucked in, he doesn’t have a tie on, and his hair is a MESS.

He reaches his arms out to you and examines you head to toe, “WOW! Just WOW! I will have the best date of the night!”

He’s so sweet it makes you consider not telling him what you’re about to.

…You do anyways.

“Prompto!” You reach your arms out to him too with a forced smile. “Sunshine. You need to tuck in your shirt, grab a tie, fix your buttons and brush your hair. I’m sorry.”

“Ehh … you really think so?” he scratched his head bashfully.

“Yes.” You say simply and tend to all of those things until he’s all shined up. “MUCH better.”

A royal taxi transports you both to the palace in no time. Prompto escorts you proudly inside with your arm in his. You pass through the corridors and come into a ballroom that is not nearly as crowded as you thought it would be. This was an intimate event.

You squeeze Prompto’s hand. He looks at you with a tender laugh. “You’re going to be FINE. This isn’t your first rodeo. You got this champ!” He lets go of your hand and gives you a little push right through the entrance.

The ballroom expands before your eyes, appearing larger than it looked from the outside. So huge. And yet so few people. They’re all looking at YOU. Your chest tightens. Or maybe the dress needs a little adjusting. You look for the nearest exit since Prompto is blocking the way behind you and find a nearby balcony. You escape quickly with no explanation.

1 2 3 BREATHE… 1 2 3 BREATHE…

“Why am I so frickin nervous?” You ask yourself outloud, pacing on the balcony behind the shelter of a heavy, drawn curtain. “Why!?”

You peek your head out from the curtain and examine the faces quickly. UGH. You retract back to pacing. It doesn’t take long before the taunting negative thoughts that you’ve shoved to the back of your head seep forward.

They’re judging me. Just like mom and dad.

“But I get judged on the walkway for a LIVING!” you fight with yourself, holding onto the railing of the balcony.

These royals aren’t like the audience. These royals are just like mom and dad. I’m not good enough for them.

“ – Are you ok, miss?” A cultured voice interrupts from behind you. You gasp a little and turn on your heels. You recognize the person vaguely. You know him from somewhere. He’s tall, dressed fine as hell, has tidy dark blonde hair and some nasty -looking scars plaguing the side of his face.

“Oh… yes. I’m fine … I guess.” You stutter out.

“I believe you accompanied Prompto, if I’m not mistaken,” the gentleman remarks, looking in no particular direction. Upon further examination, you discover that he’s blind. “I’m sorry to intrude. It sounded like you were in distress. Shall I fetch Promp for you?”

“No …” You say a little embarrassed. Your heart begins pounding and the anxiety thrusts itself forward in the form of a verbal explosion. “No. You know what!? I don’t need Prompto right now. I don’t need ANYONE. What I need right now is for people to stop judging me for what I do for a living! What’s wrong with being a model? Hm? Tell me.”

The gentleman’s mouth is gaping a little. He nods his head slightly and says, “I didn’t even know you were a model. But I suppose – “

“You suppose NOTHING. What makes me sooo different from someone like … like LUNA! I mean the Queen! Just because she’s a royal means she not superficial? But I am because I’m in the fashion industry?! I’m just as smart as the people out there!” You point to the curtain even though he can’t see you point. “I have a freaking degree in Ancient History! And! And! I know THREE different languages! AND! I know how to cook my own food! GOOD food because I took TWO years of culinary school!”

“That’s – that’s quite impressive miss …?”

“Valentine!” You shout at him. “It’s VALENTINE! And you won’t forget it!” You exhale angrily, pull back the curtain and start walking fast across the ball room floor.

Your heels clap madly beneath you as you go, tears pooling in your eyes. You feel a little insane. You pass through tiny clusters of people as they share drinks. You keep your stare to the floor. It looks like there’s a small corridor up ahead to run too. Run. Run. Run. Always running.

Oof! You run right into the arms of the unexpected.

“Is it really you? No way! Are you ok?”

You fix your hair and lift your gaze from beneath your eye lashes. The person helping you up is Noctis – KING Noctis Lucis Caelum.

“I am SO sorry!” You say, suddenly aware of the tears rolling down your cheeks.

“It’s ok!” He says, helping you to your feet. “I’m just shocked to see you here. I never would’ve expected it. It’s been so long!”

He smiles pleasantly at the small group of people that he was entertaining in discussion. “Please excuse me. We’ll continue this conversation later.”

Noctis takes soft hold of your hand and leads you to the small corridor that you were heading to in the first place. Beyond the noise of the hall, he pulls out a handkerchief for you. Abashedly, you wipe your eyes and see him fully for the first time in over ten years; a mature, sculpted face freshly shaved and looking as smooth as just-whipped butter, crisp blue eyes and hair that LOOKS like it wants to be touched. Whoa.

“Thank you … your Highness …” you say, wishing you could force the blood from rising in your face.

“Ahh, geez,” he scratches the back of his head the same way Prompto does. “That’s too formal coming from you. Just call me Noctis or Noct or whatever. We’re friends, right?”

“Sure … Noct – Noctis,” a smile finds its way to your lips.

“That’s better,” he sets a hand on your bare shoulder. You shiver unintentionally. “Do you want to go back to the party? Or do you need a little more time?”

Noctis smiles gently at you and you feel both relaxed and nervous at the same time. There’s a little fire rumbling eagerly in the pit of your stomach – a tiny new flame that wants you to feed it.

Go. Go with him.

You nod your head and hand him his handkerchief. “Yeah. …Thank you so much. I could really use a drink right now.”

The King offers you his arm and he accompanies you for the rest of the evening. You limit yourself to just a couple of drinks. Prompto sticks close by, taking pictures and prompting (for no better word) old memories of the three of you in high school. The entire ordeal feels like an out of body experience. Is this real life? And … where’s Luna?

-End

To read the story that this one is a spin-off to and other pieces of my works, check out my masterlist. <—

Studying - Renora drabble

Show : RWBY
Character / Ship : Lie Ren / Nora Valkyrie {Renora, flower power, team sloth…}
Description : Just a fluffy Drabble I wrote about these two dorks, I myself don’t have a very long attention span either so I couldn’t carry this on for very long. Enjoy anyway~ {Please excuse the fact that I’m not a writer or anything so this is probably horrible}

~

The ginger peered over the stack of books in front of her, and sent a annoyed glance at the boy sitting opposite.
“Reeeeeeeeen”
Nora said, pulling on the syllable like a child would. He didn’t even bat an eye, just flicking onto the next page of his book.
“Yes.”
She grinned.
“Do you think I’m pretty?”
He sighed in response.
“Of course I do, but I don’t see how that has anything to do with you studying.”
Nora grumbled, her legs bouncing up and down.
“I’m borreddd.”
Ren’s eyes flicked up, taking in Noras agitated form. She was staring down at her English textbook angrily, her foot tapping incessantly on there dorms wooden floor. They had taken to studying together after classes, it was the only way to insure Nora would actually do her work and not get distracted by something. It wasn’t that she was dumb, just that she had a small attention span and would much rather do some more training or work out in the gym. After all, the sun was still high in the sky and Nora world much rather be running around than be cooped up in there dorm.
Ren looked at her softly, closing his book.
“Want some help? It’s Professor Peachs assignment right?”
Nora looked up, a grateful smile on her face as she nodded excitedly.
“Yes!! Thank you Ren!”
She almost jumped up, fist bumping the air. Ren took her textbook, and tapped the seat next to him. Nora happily obliged, sitting down next to her best friend.
“It’s an reading assignment, but I can’t concentrate on it. I’m an idiot aren’t I?”
She sounded sad, trailing her fingers over the words in her textbook. It was a classic fairytale, one that they were studying but she just couldn’t get the words to entice her. It was like grasping at smoke.
“You are not an idiot. You just learn differently, that’s all.”
Nora flushed at his strong tone, looking up and catching his eyes.
“Could you read it to me?”
She blushed harder, she just couldn’t help it. Listening to Ren talk was always a huge comfort, especially as he didn’t talk much. He nodded, a small smile tugging on his lips. Nora squealed excitedly, moving around on the sofa and grabbing pillows until she was just a blur of movement.
“What are you doing?”
Ren’s voice sounded amused, if a little scared. She only mischievously grinned and plopped down into his lap. She was lying down on the sofa, her head resting in Ren’s lap as she curled up under pillows and blankets. Ren smiled down at the bundle of Nora, comfortingly resting his arm around her shoulder.
“Comfy?”
He said, smiling a little brighter. She nodded, head poking out from the bundle of blankets like a baby. Ren chuckled, smiling down at his smaller friend. Noras heart almost stopped, face blushing hard. He very rarely laughed, and it was magical.
She snuggled deeper into the blankets and looked up at Ren expectantly, who only picked up the textbook and began to read.
“Once upon a time, in a forest….”
Nora closed her eyes, listening to Ren. His words were smooth like honey, captivating and weaving around her like a extra soft blanket. She smiled into his leg, focusing only his words and the story he brought to life, and the sleepy calm that settled into her chest.


Pyrrha swung open the door to her dorm. Both Ren and Nora had been absent for dinner, and she was growing worried about them. But looking at the two curled up on the dorms sofa, she found no need. They were both sleeping peacefully, Nora swathed in blankets and curled up in Ren’s lap, Ren sitting with a serene expression on his face and fingers laying on soft ginger hair as if he had been running his fingers through it. A open textbook lay discarded on the table. Pyrrha smiled at the two, they both looked so happy.
“Hey Pyrrha! Have you found them?”
Jaune shouted from behind her, walking up and peering in to the dorm. He coughed, and blushed. His voice instantly dropping to a softer tone.
“Oops.”
Pyrrha glanced up at Jaune and then back at the two. They could get some food later, but for now she’ll let them rest.

The Willow maid (Thorin X Reader)

Request: @deepestfirefun ; hi! can i ask request thorin x reader? company ask reader to tell a story so she tells a tale by a singing a song The Willow Maid - Erutan. Thorin is affected by her ability tell stories by singing them.he has feelings for her and the end tells her that. fluff is you please. love your writings! thanks!!

A/N: I am so sorry!! I have been so slack and haven’t gotten on to post in forever, but I’m back now and I hope I can make it up to you guys. Hope you like it @deepestfirefun.

Word Count: 1,702


The air was somber as the aching feet of over a dozen travelers relieved themselves of the empty, repetitious marching that had carried them over mountain, valley and stream that day.

The company’s harmonious gasps filled the air, as burdensome baggage is removed from their shoulders, and their reddened torn skin upon their palms is relieved from their whitened grip upon the reins of their horses, whom Thorin had ordered his company to dismount for their health.

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This is more or less what I thought BatIM was gonna be. 

Before I discovered it was a horror game, all I knew of Bendy was the cutesy cartoon that somehow was in the real world and didn’t understand real world things.  Therefore, I thought BatIM was an internet story thing where Bendy was a cartoon character accidentally brought to life who now has to adjust to the weirdness of reality.

Of course, life never meets up to expectations and instead I got the monstrosity he actually is.  But I like thinking about this version as a cool AU if anything.  Actually considering attempting an animation of it.  Tell me what you think!

Hypersigils

Hypersigils also called super sigils are sigils that are usually expressed through art based medias such as stories, poetry, lyrics, video, and much more. This technique was first brought to life by Grant Morrison Dossier a comic book writer, and an occultist. These sigils can be very powerful, but can also be quite complicated depending on how you go about creating them, and using them in your practice to get what you want. To create a hypersigil one must only create one of these mediums, but inside the medium you place your intent disguised as the art. This is going to be in some way shape, or form modeled after your reality, and by interacting with it, and changing it you can change your reality. This would be like if you were going to write a story you would make an alter ego for yourself, and give them what you when your self to have in their reality, so that you in turn could get it in your reality. Hypersigils work primarily through the law of Association, and the law of similarity. So in order for it to affect the universe you will need to represent whatever you want to be affected in the medium, and then in some way show how you want it to be affected. This will give your intent something to latch onto so that the energy can then go out, and effect the universe. It’s all about connecting your intent into the medium, so that you can characterize the world around you in order to be able to add, and subtract things at will.

This would also pretty much work the same way in poetry, video, and song lyrics, and many other forms of hypersigils. Now that your intent is all wrapped up in a package, and is now this beautiful piece of art you now have your sigil, it is as simple as that my friends. In order for you to charge, and passively activate the sigil you must have some form of audience, or collective in order to interact with that piece of art, so that they can give their energy to it. These types of sigils are usually never charged through the individual, and usually take a lot more manpower, which is one of the reasons why they’re usually referred to as super sigils. This can be done simply by sharing your hypersigil on a blog, social media site, or any other place someone might come in contact with it. If the audience, or collective interact with the hypersigil intentionally, or not intentionally it will not affect the effectiveness of the hypersigil, and will still charge it regardless. This will allow the hypersigil to manifest your will among reality. That’s all there really is to having, and using hypersigils, but as you can see there is probably a lot of uses that you can get out of these types of sigils. These sigils can be incredibly powerful, because of the association, intend, and energy that is put into them. It is quite useful for every practitioner to understand, and know how to use the sigils in case they ever have to do anything with them.

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Positive me: I’m so excited about the idea of a Bobby Brown biopic, but if Woody & Tyler aren’t playing him then they can keep it.

Real me: If Woody & Tyler aren’t playing Bobby in this movie then somebody getting stabbed. The New Edition Story brought life back to BET. These boys got Bobby down packed. I refuse to sit and watch another horrible Flex playing Michael Jackson ass biopic. I swear if they use that soft ass Bobby from Whitney’s Lifetime movie I’m never watching BET again. Hell, I even watch Leon (David Ruffin from Temptations movie) play Bobby before I watch him again.

It’s So Much More Than Just Another Show

and i think that is why it has been so hard for a lot, if not all of us, to get over all the feelings that the show left us with, compared to other shows/fandoms we are apart of.

Like for example, other shows i would have ships that don’t get their happily ever after and ill be bummed out but ill still ship the pairings with  a huge smile on my face…

But with a show like this, that is so real, even though show aspect wise i ship Clay and Hannah as a reflex, i cant ever do so with a smile on my face like i would normally do, i can’t blatantly look past the end result as if it didn’t happen, sure its a fictional story, but it was such a intense powerful story that brought the characters to life in such a stronger sense than other shows do, ya know?


Ugh, i gotta take another break from tumblr, and get some fresh air (not literal fresh air, but you know what i mean)

“Head space…Head space.”

My Wife Left Me

The hardest thing I ever had to hear was my wife asking me to let her go. We were sitting at the kitchen table, I was eating a bowl of cereal and reading the news on my tablet and she was across from me, staring at me. I could feel her gaze, but I thought if I just ignored her, she’d stop. Maybe it was the wrong approach, but she’d been so unhappy lately and it was all she talked about; I knew if I looked up, it would just be another circular conversation that ended in tears. I just wanted a normal Sunday morning.

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Now Offering Screenwriting & Editing Services

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Have you had a script laying around that you haven’t had much faith in? Maybe there’s a story you’ve wanted to tell, but you need help developing it. 

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A book is just ink formed into symbols that represent words telling us a story,
they are not brought to life by movies, or television shows, or performances.
Stories and Books are brought to life by the minds and imaginations of the persons who pick up the Book to read the Story. 

It is inside a person’s mind where the life is given to ink on a page.

Making a Web Comic

Making a web comic is freaking hard! And a shitload of work. But it’s all worth it in the end when you look back and see the stories you have created and the characters that you have brought to life.
I’ve had Capt’n Heroic in my head for about 10 years and I’m finally letting him loose into the wild world of Web Comics. It was scary at first to show the world my creation… It’s still a little scary because probably only a handful of people have read it yet… but its still fun.
I’m going to attempt to write my story of making a Web comic, in blog form here on Tumblr. Why? I don’t know. It just seems like a thing I should do.

So my webcomic has been started and is about 6 pages in. I release 1 page every Monday. Hopefully I can up it to 2 pages a week.

you can read it for FREE right here on Tumblr on my page: http://captnheroic.tumblr.com/

So check it out, and tell your friends… Tell people you don’t like, tell your mom…  hell, tell your dog.. just in case dogs ever learn to read.
Thanks!!!!! See ya soon.