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...you say that it’s a confession of weakness for a scientist not to write.
Fitzgerald - Tender is the Night
Son las 3:00 am y mi café sigue frío y a medias. Como siempre, no pude terminar de consumirlo entre tantas letras.
Como escuchar mi canción favorita de “los sordos- Punto y aparte”.
La costumbre fue más fuerte que amarte. Cada día que pasa te alejas más y yo sigo aquí esperándote en el mismo lugar.
Me haces polvo con tu olvido. Ya no me reconozco en el espejo, cada vez me alejo más de mí mismo.
Te quiero, te daré el por qué. Porque simplemente soy una mejor persona cuando estoy contigo.
No sé si te encontré, no sé si serás tú… La verdad no me importa mucho, sólo te quiero para mí.
Las madrugadas me agobian, me saben a ti sin mí.
Desesperada por verte y estar entre tus brazos. Amor no me sueltes, quédate conmigo.
Quizá este sea otro más, otro más dulce recuerdo que sabe a ti. Lo importante es que estas conmigo y la pregunta es “¿hasta cuándo?” “¿te cansarás de mí?” “¿te irás?” el dueño de todas estas respuestas es el tiempo.
Me haces feliz, sin dudarlo pero el café y las letras también. Aunque la soledad es mi única acompañante, la que nunca me abandona aún estando con alguien creo en ti mi amor, creo que en cambiaremos todo eso y podremos ser uno.
El amor no es lo mío pero lo tuyo tampoco. Explorando un poco de tu piel, sabiendo de ti y de tus partes más ocultas pude descubrir que no eres tan acido como pareces.
Cada madrugada sin tus brazos rodeando mi cuerpo, sin tus labios en mi cuello y mis manos entre tu cabello. Mis uñas clavadas en ti por el dolor placentero. Obtener placer a través del dolor es lo que mejor sabemos hacer.
Si tuviera que definir lo que eres para mí sólo diría una palabra “Galaxia”, tú dale el significado.
La verdad es que ya ni sé que más se quiere interponer en la barrera que nos divide, le quieren dar más peso pero eso no me detiene. No podrán borrar lo que te puedo hacer sentir cuando te miro o te beso. Ya eres parte de mí pero… Explícales eso.
Siénteme a través de mis letras si no puedes estar conmigo. Ven y quítame el estrés, la ropa, el aliento, lo que te plazca.
Ya no sé si soy tan mía como tuya.
¿Pero te mereces mi letras? Autor de mis desvelos, autor de mis sonrisas y casi de mi poesía. ¿Quieren saber de poesía? Mírenle mientras me sonríe, mientras nos perdemos en algún universo paralelo del cual sólo nosotros podemos entrar y nadie puede interrumpir, dónde le desgarro la ropa y puedo hacerlo realmente sentir.
Estás en letras negritas en mí vida, cualquiera podría verte a lejos, eres como cualquier otra nube a la luz de la noche sólo que yo le doy sentido y forma. Cualquier escritor podría descifrarte pero sólo uno podría entender y perderse en cada uno de tus defectos y lunares.
A veces me pregunto cómo alguien podría conocerme tanto, no tiene mucho sentido ya que hay veces que ni yo misma me conozco. Sé que sabrías entender por qué cambia mi voz cuando hablo contigo o cuando me enojo. Sé que sabrías calmar mis tristezas y podrías curar mis heridas.
Cada “te quiero” tuyo para mí es un “lo nuestro es suficientemente fuerte para todo esto”.
Quizá es amor pero como no podría amarte si en cada punto y coma estás, si en cada noche te encuentro, si en cada final de mi sonrisa acabas tú. Tan infinito y dulce como siempre.
Y una vez más, el autor de mis desvelos me hace volar entre letras y nubes.
"Hablando de mí reflejada en ti."
No necesito que me entienda nadie, ni yo misma me entiendo, nadie lo hace ni lo hará.
Quien menos piensas me entiende, personas que ni siquiera conozco, personas de mi mundo ficticio o escritores pocos conocidos que ni siquiera saben de mi existencia. Mis páginas, mis lágrimas, mi sangre, mi música. Esas son cosas que me entienden, mis malditas letras y mis malditos libros llenos de sueños. No necesito compasión de nadie, estoy bien así, no quiero que me complazcan en nada, ¿no se cansan de todo esto? Yo sí, estoy harta de la monotonía, de siempre lo mismo, de las lágrimas y la lluvia, de que el sol se oculte para que salga la luna, de que las flores mueran sin agua y de que mi sonrisa solo exista por cosas muy pequeñas y estúpidas.
Quisiera ser feliz y hacer feliz, pero es algo imposible, si no escribo estoy mal, me siento hundida, me siento llena de lagrimas y de impotencia. Algo así como tener su sonrisa en mi cabeza todo el día, como la esperanza del mar y choque de las olas con las piedras. Como los colores del atardecer, como él conmigo y yo sola.
Estoy harta de tratar de decir lo que las personas quieren oír, estoy harta de mis estupideces y de mis locuras sin sentido, pero esta soy yo. No cambiaré por nada ni nadie, romperé barreras, paredes, lo que sea que se venga a mi pero no renunciaré a nada de esto.
Alguna vez pensé en irme de aquí ¿sabes? Y es feo pensar que alguien leerá todo estoy que escribo hoy a las 01:01 am, pero es así, esta es mi realidad y no saldré de aquí por sí sola.
No quiero ser perfecta, no quiero tener un lindo cuerpo, no quiero que todos estén a gusto conmigo, no quiero que les importe, sólo quiero que me quieran por lo que soy y podré llorar y podrán decir que soy muy débil pero soy más fuerte que lo malditos que me juzgan sin conocerme, soy más fuerte de lo que crees o puedas pensar, no lo sé, solo sé que estoy bien y siempre lo estaré, así no tenga una maldita sonrisa que lo pruebe.
Miré hacia el cielo en busca de la luna y me encontré tu mirada y tus versos trasmitidos por estrellas y por las rosas secas en mi balcón.
List of Interesting Latin Phrases
A list I made just to satisfy my vain cravings for resonating mottos for a secret society I'm working on. Enjoy!
abi in malam crucem: to the devil with you!
ad astra per ardua: to the star by steep paths
ad augusta per angusta: to honors through difficulties
aegis fortissima virtus: virue is the strongest shield
amor vincit amnia: love conquers all things
animo et fide: by courage and faith
arbitrium est judicium: an award is a judgement
aut mors aut victoria: either death or victory
aut vincere aut mori: either victory or death
bello ac pace paratus: prepared in war and peace
bibamus, moriendum est: let us drink, death is certain (Seneca and Elder)
bonis omnia bona: all things are good to the good
cede nullis: yield to no one
cito maturum, cito putridum: soon ripe, soon rotten
consensus facit legem: consent makes law
data fata secutus: following what is decreed by fate (Virgil)
durum telum necessitas: necessity is a hrad weapson
dux vitae ratio: reason is the guide of life
e fungis nati homines: men born of mushrooms
ego sum, ergo omnia sunt: I am, therefore all things are
pulvis et umbra sumus: we are but dust and shadow
quae amissa salva: things lost are safe
timor mortis morte pejor: the fear of death is worse than death
triumpho morte tam vita: I triumph in death as in life
tu vincula frange: break your chains
vel prece vel pretio: for either love or for money
verbera, sed audi: whip me, but hear me
veritas temporis filia: truth is the daughter of time
vero nihil verius: nothing is truer than the truth
vestigia nulla restrorsum: foosteps do not go backward
victus vincimus: conquered, we conquer (Plautus)
sica inimicis: a gger to his enemies
sic vita humana: thus is human life
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───
💎If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! Also, join my Tumblr writing community for some more fun.
💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2
Reference: <Latin for the Illiterati: a modern guide to an ancient language> by Jon R. Stone, second edition, 2009
Types Of Writer’s Block (And How To Fix Them)
1. High inspiration, low motivation. You have so many ideas to write, but you just don’t have the motivation to actually get them down, and even if you can make yourself start writing it you’ll often find yourself getting distracted or disengaged in favour of imagining everything playing out
Try just bullet pointing the ideas you have instead of writing them properly, especially if you won’t remember it afterwards if you don’t. At least you’ll have the ideas ready to use when you have the motivation later on
2. Low inspiration, high motivation. You’re all prepared, you’re so pumped to write, you open your document aaaaand… three hours later, that cursor is still blinking at the top of a blank page
RIP pantsers but this is where plotting wins out; refer back to your plans and figure out where to go from here. You can also use your bullet points from the last point if this is applicable
3. No inspiration, no motivation. You don’t have any ideas, you don’t feel like writing, all in all everything is just sucky when you think about it
Make a deal with yourself; usually when I’m feeling this way I can tell myself “Okay, just write anyway for ten minutes and after that, if you really want to stop, you can stop” and then once my ten minutes is up I’ve often found my flow. Just remember that, if you still don’t want to keep writing after your ten minutes is up, don’t keep writing anyway and break your deal - it’ll be harder to make deals with yourself in future if your brain knows you don’t honour them
4. Can’t bridge the gap. When you’re stuck on this one sentence/paragraph that you just don’t know how to progress through. Until you figure it out, productivity has slowed to a halt
Mark it up, bullet point what you want to happen here, then move on. A lot of people don’t know how to keep writing after skipping a part because they don’t know exactly what happened to lead up to this moment - but you have a general idea just like you do for everything else you’re writing, and that’s enough. Just keep it generic and know you can go back to edit later, at the same time as when you’re filling in the blank. It’ll give editing you a clear purpose, if nothing else
5. Perfectionism and self-doubt. You don’t think your writing is perfect first time, so you struggle to accept that it’s anything better than a total failure. Whether or not you’re aware of the fact that this is an unrealistic standard makes no difference
Perfection is stagnant. If you write the perfect story, which would require you to turn a good story into something objective rather than subjective, then after that you’d never write again, because nothing will ever meet that standard again. That or you would only ever write the same kind of stories over and over, never growing or developing as a writer. If you’re looking back on your writing and saying “This is so bad, I hate it”, that’s generally a good thing; it means you’ve grown and improved. Maybe your current writing isn’t bad, if just matched your skill level at the time, and since then you’re able to maintain a higher standard since you’ve learned more about your craft as time went on
this is an article I wrote for Vocal.media, a lovely platform for blogging where writers like to unload their creative impetus. this one is about past experiences and personal flaws and how your shortcomings and limitations can serve as a design tool for your personality and life.
"Are you letting yourself be led by fear or by love?"
In a 2021 musical film called Tick Tick Boom, Michael asks his friend Jonathan this question. Two years later, in the early hours of the morning, I ask myself the same thing and the answer is always the same: fear.
I think that for a long time, I lived out of fear for my emotional well-being, my mental health, and my physical safety. I've come to realize that I am no longer in danger. I've come to realize that I cannot dwell on what I cannot control. I've come to realize that I have more power than I thought, but my answering isn't changing.
I thought that if I healed, then I would be fine. But I am not fine. I am directionless.
- @annetries-towrite
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I think that once you've hurt someone enough times, you don't deserve to come back into their lives, apologizing for your actions over and over again. At some point, it stops being them and it starts being about you. At some point, you owe it to them to stay gone.
- @annetries-towrite
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Perhaps, to you, this remains insignificant. To me, it is everything. It has to be. I am all I have left.
- @annetries-towrite
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I often imagine my life in my late 20s, having my dream career, living with my future partner, and being happier. Then I remember it's all under the assumption that I have time to grow. What if I need to step into my power sooner than I'd like? Life is not guaranteed, and time won't hold your hand. Am I ready for that?
- @annetries-towrite
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So desperately, I want to matter.
- @annetries-towrite
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It appears I am afraid of my success, the supposed inevitability of it. A piece of me finds comfort in the version of myself that settles into practicality. Why must I grow to achieve?
- @annetries-towrite
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Hi, I'm Anne!
A handful of my posts are from a period of my life when I aspired to be a novelist. I will not delete those posts, so feel free to scroll if you're curious.
My desire for writing has not wavered, but my career path has changed. I still have so much I want to talk about and so much I wish to share with whoever wants to listen.
Genres
What is a genre?
A genre is a category that your story belongs to based on form, style, or subject matter.
Action/Adventure
Your book belongs to this genre if your characters are on a quest or journey to reach a concrete goal. Take The Lighting Thief by Rick Riordan. The goal is to return the lighting bolt to Zeus before summer solstice, or there will be war.
Fantasy
Your book belongs to this genre if the world in your story has a type of magic system, or includes mythical creatures. Think of Dragons, Centaurs, Pixie dust, et cetera.
Mystery
Your book belongs to this genre if the story centers around a question(Who, What, Where, Why, and How). Think of Criminal Minds, Mondays Not Coming, Lucifer, etc.
Romance
Your book belongs to this genre if your story centers around the romantic relationship of two or more characters. Think of Five Feet Apart, To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before, Love, Simon, etc.
(Keep in mind, your story can belong to more than one genre. There are no limitations.)
If anyone has any questions, or feels as though I’ve left something out, feel free to let me know!
Plots
What is a plot?
A plot is the chain of events that make up the story in a book, movie, TV show, and the like. A plot generally consists of five major points: Exposition, Rising Action, Climax, Falling Action, and Resolution/ Denouement.
Exposition:
This is the beginning of the story. Here, the reader is introduced to the setting, the characters, and the main conflict.
Rising Action:
This is where the story starts to get complicated. The conflict begins to escalate to a much bigger issue.
Climax:
This is the middle of the story. The characters may be panicking, as the conflict has reached its peak.
Falling Action:
By this point of the book, the characters may have thought of a solution to the issue and are implementing it. The story begins to cool down.
Resolution/Denouement:
This is the end of the story. The story is at a stopping point, the main issue resolved. If you’re writing a series, this may be where you would add the extra bit of information that leads into the next book.
What is a subplot?
A subplot is a plot that exists inside the main plot. An example being a group of characters working together to reach a concrete goal, but romantic tension existing between the two main characters at the same time - the subplot.
These are the only two I felt needed some clarification. If you have any questions, or feel as though I’ve missed something, feel free to let me know!
Character-driven vs Plot-driven Stories
What is a Character-driven story?
Character-driven stories gravitate toward intra and interpersonal relationships with the characters. Unlike a plot-driven story, these types of stories focus on how the character(s) arrives at a choice.
Readers tend to enjoy these types of stories because of the realistic characters authors write in those books. It allows the reader to see themselves or others in those characters, developing an emotional connection.
What is a Plot-driven story?
A Plot-driven story gravitates toward the external rather than the internal conflict. Unlike a character-driven story, these types of stories focus on the choice a character must make rather than what they do to get there.
Readers tend to enjoy these types of stories because of the well-constructed plot. Seeing a character in a situation they cannot control may provide a sense of purpose or familiarity for the reader.
(This is something my friend said she likes about plot-driven stories. It may be true for other readers, as well.)
Which is best?
I’m going to let you in on a little secret. There is no such thing as the “best” way to write a story. It all depends on preference.
If you want to write a story for an audience who will analyze your characters, write for that audience. If you want a story for an audience who will gravitate toward your well-constructed plot, write for that audience.
There is somebody out there who will love your book, I guarantee.
If you have any questions, or feel as though I’ve missed something, feel free to let me know!
Characters Types
Protagonist:
The Protagonist is the main character of your story. They are the most mentioned, the one who drives the plot, the one the readers will be paying most of their attention to. Generally, there is only one, but there can be more than one protagonist in a story.
Antagonist:
The Antagonist is the character that goes against the Protagonist. An Antagonist doesn’t have to be a person, necessarily. It can be a group of people, society, nature, et cetera. They don’t even have to be evil, they just need to go against the Protagonist’s motives.
Villain:
Both the Villain and the Antagonist are opponents of the Protagonist. Though, the main difference is the Villain has bad intentions. They are evil.
Dynamic Character:
A Dynamic Character is the person who undergoes a change throughout the story, whether it be good or bad. The character’s motives or morals are different than they were in the beginning. The change is normally permanent.
Flat or Static Character:
A Flat or Static Character is the opposite of a Dynamic Character, hardly experiencing any changes throughout the story, if at all. Generally, the reader doesn’t know much about this character.
If you have any questions regarding character types, or feel as though I’ve missed something, feel free to let me know!
Okay, hey, since this post took off, let me share some other action beats you can use to punctuate the silence when writing a conversation, that isn't sighing.
They… Grimaced. Shrugged. Frowned. Scrunched their nose. Yawned. Fiddled with a loose thread on their sleeve. Ran a hand through their hair. Worried/bit/licked their lips. Hummed. Replied with a rather rude hand gesture. Picked at a hangnail. Gingerly grazed a finger down the length of so-and-so's arm, avoiding their gaze like it would burn. Farted. Kicked a stone. Twirled a lock of hair. Twirled somebody else's lock of hair. Twirled a lock of hair on the disembodied head they'd just plopped onto the dinner table. Stuffed their hands into their pockets. Stuffed their hands into the open cavity at the neck of this dang disembodied head on the table. Feigned interest in their phone. Flipped a page. Flipped the table. Flipped the script and escaped the pages. I repeat, the character has escaped and is in the real world. God have mercy on us all. Pissed themselves.
Their… Shoulders sagged. Brows knit/furrowed. Muscles tensed, tightening and locking up like a key twisting in a rusty lock. (Did you just repeat lock twice in the same sentence? Ew). Muscles relaxed, tension spilling from their skin and pooling like blood at their feet. Stomach dropped. Heart beat slower and slower until it ceased to beat at all, which, frankly, is going to be an issue if they hoped to carry on this conversation. Heart beat faster and faster and faster and faster and faster and wouldn't slow down, aw, shit, please, just slow the fuck down…
And lastly: nothing! Don't write anything. Don't say the character does anything. Not blinking, not sighing, not grimacing, or shrugging. Frankly, you'd be surprised at how little of these small reactions you really do need to write. Allow your readers' imagination to fill in the gaps. Isn't that also part of the fun of reading?
Anywho feel free to add.
I’m going to try this!
how to make a story file
As I am preparing for Camp NaNo*, I have been working on my story file. It occurred to me this might not be common or popular practice. “Story File” is a name I gave it and maybe some of y’all have a different name with the same contents.
*There’s still time to apply to join my Camp NaNo cabin!
My Story File contains everything about my story that doesn’t go in the outline.
It’s broken up into major categories and specific templates. So without further ado, here is how I structure my Story File.
Intro
Title
Logline
Synopsis
Genre
Estimated Total Length (word count)
Draft Length Goal (word count)
Character Bank
Main characters and brief, one-sentence descriptions with ages
Themes and Character Development
Central Question
The Yes/No question that is being asked through the whole story
Should have objective qualities, rather than subjective
i.e. “Will they fall in love?” (subjective) vs. “Will they leave their partners and become a couple?” (objective)
Thematic Questions
These are the internal conflict questions that reside in your character(s) and your story
ex. “Can there really be a successful government?”
ex. “Does grief excuse bad actions?”
Themes at a Glance
Words or phrases that relate to the themes of the story
ex. person vs. nature
ex. isolation
ex. grief
ex. first love
Motivation / Stasis State / Final State
for each main character, you should write a sentence or two pertaining to these three things
Motivation: What is the drive behind this character and their past, present, and future actions? What part of their background makes them the way that they are? What are they looking for? What do they want out of this/a situation?
Stasis State: What are they like before the inciting incident? What problems and questions do they have?
Final State: What has changed about them and their outlook? What questions have they resolved? What has happened to their internal conflict?
Relationships
I usually make a little web of the MCs and their relationship to one another. One for the stasis and one for final.
Stasis: How do these characters see each other? How do they act toward the other? (All before the inciting incident)
Final: How do these characters see each other now? How has their idea of one another shifted?
Even if a character dies before the end, include the most recent relationship status in the Final web.
ex. this is how I organize it, using the Draw feature of Google Docs
Character Bank
This is just a very preliminary character bank. If you prefer a more in-depth one, check out my 6 Box Method.
Per (relevant/important) character:
Name
Nickname/preferred name
Age
Field/Occupation
Physical Description
Personality
Personal History
Education/Occupation History
Extra Notes:
Worldbuilding Bank
(Check out my worldbuilding posts on Categories Pt. 1 and 2 for better context)
Seasons and Climate
Languages
Other Cultural Pockets
Folklore and Legends
Fine Arts
Dress and Modesty
Classes
Jobs
Currency and Economics
Shopping
Agriculture and Livestock
Imports and Exports
Literature, Pop Culture, and Entertainment
Food and Water
Holidays and Festivals
Family and Parenting
Relationships
Housing
Religion and Beliefs
Government
Health and Medicine
Technology and Communication
Death
Transportation
Plants, Animals, and Human-environment Interaction
Education
Beauty Standards
Gender and Sexuality
—————————
I hope this helps y’all and supplements what you’re probably already doing. I know it’s helped me tons to have everything in a central place.
Best of luck!
The Zion City Chronicles 1.2
summary:
In a world of super-powered beings, there are those that use their power for the wellbeing of all, as well as for the protection of justice, the heroes, and the ones that use them to enact despicable deeds, the villains.
Zion City has had its fair share of heroes and villains, all of them memorable in their own ways, but their current hero, one that goes by the name of Shadik, is, in all honesty, a disappointment.
Shadik, scorned by all, must protect Zion City with the help of her new, inexperienced partner while rebuilding her reputation, but something is brewing in Zion City’s shadows. Something evil.
Something that will bring everyone in Zion City down if they get in the way to its goal.
______
Flashpoint ran after the thief, forgoing the use of any vehicle other than her sneaker covered feet. She dodged between the cars in Main Street as the thief cut through it in an attempt to get away from the masked woman.
She'd been lounging in the roof of the City Hall when she'd seen the three police cars in the small town of Swinford drive towards the east side of town. Towards the new jewellery store.
Flashpoint had run after the police cars, her thin sweatshirt, plastic gloves and leggings doing almost nothing to ward off the early autumn breeze, and had soon caught the thief's trail.
The thief had stolen some jewels, most probably to pawn in some shop afterwards or to sell them on the internet, but he wouldn't get the chance to do any of those things, not when Flashpoint was after him.
Flashpoint threw her hand in the thief's direction and after flexing her fingers, activated her power.
With her other hand, she threw a piece of glass towards the fleeing man and focusing all her energy in the action, expanded the glass.
The piece of glass stretched in a manner similar to that of taffy, looking like hot silicone, before growing long enough to wrap itself around the thief.
The strange glass solidified once again, losing its elastic quality as it created a glass cocoon around all of the thief's body, but sparing his head, Flashpoint was not a killer.
Flashpoint grinned. She'd finally mastered one aspect of her power after five months of work and this called for a celebration cupcake.
The police arrived a few minutes later to thank the hero, who had spent the small amount of time discussing with the thief if vegan cupcakes should not be considered cupcakes, and lock the thief up inside their police car so he could receive the necessary legal procedure.
Flashpoint high fived he policemen, who laughed at the young hero's enthusiasm at helping them save the jewels and disappeared into a public bathroom a few blocks away.
Flashpoint stashed her disguise into her backpack, along with the blue wig covering her brown hair, and made sure her bra strap wasn't showing through the yellow knit top she was wearing. Without anyone catching sight of the hero, Flashpoint left the bathroom and lazily strolled through the flower-lined sidewalks of the small town of Raybush, subtly walking east, towards home, and hopefully, dinner.
Flashpoint walked up to the white-painted townhouse, grinning at the way the leafy and flowery vines curled over the walls and around the windows, giving the entire house a bit of a fairytale vibe, and pushed the door open with her hip.
She pulled her sneakers off and put them beside the door, enjoying the feeling of the wooden floor underneath her bare feet, before skipping into the kitchen.
"Mom! I brought cupcakes from Mrs Sprinkle's!"
Flashpoint set the white cardboard box on top of the marble countertop in their kitchen when she caught sight of her mother, a petite woman very similar to her daughter, dressed in a nice house and pants.
This instantly confused Flashpoint, as her mother didn't dress up every day, and she wondered if she'd forgotten her parent's wedding anniversary, that is, until her mother smiled brightly at her and said, "Spencer, you've finally arrived! We've got some guests in the living room, so please put the cupcakes away, for I don't think you brought enough!"
Flashpoint– Spencer nodded and moved the box into the pantry, her mind whirring in confusion. Who could it be? Her mother wouldn't be worried about the insufficient cupcakes if it was anyone they were close to, so then it was someone they didn't now.
But, who?
Spencer crossed her arms and drew her right thumb towards her mouth, meaning to start biting her fingernails, but quickly shook her hands away from herself.
She hesitantly left the kitchen and went into the living room, a bright, colourful room with many windows looking out into their lush backyard and several armchairs and a loveseat placed in front of the large couch. She settled into the armchair adjacent to the one her mother was sitting in and drew her gaze to the man sitting in the couch.
He was tall.
And handsome.
And twentyish years older than her. He wore a slim-fitting suit which complimented his slightly tanned skin tone and made his brown eyes look warmer.
He was flanked by two massive bodyguards standing just behind the couch, though he looked like he could deal with any threats by himself if the barely hidden muscles of his arms were any indication.
He was also telling her smiling mother about a scholarship thing she'd applied to.
Spencer had never done such thing.
"Thank you so much for receiving us in your home, Mrs Bray," the man said with a dazzling white smile that left Spencer's mom's cheeks dusted in pink. "I would really appreciate if you could give me a couple minutes with Spencer to tell her about some of the finer points of what the scholarship entails."
Excusing herself by saying that she would get some tea for the group, Mrs Bray left the group alone in the living room.
Through the dumbstruck haze of being before such a handsome man, Spencer regarded the entourage with the coldest stare she could muster in the presence of such a gorgeous male. "Who are you really?"
The man let a smug grin appear in his spotless face.
"They call me the Chancellor."
–––––––––––––––--------
(First)
The Zion City Chronicles 1.1
summary:
In a world of super-powered beings, there are those that use their power for the wellbeing of all, as well as for the protection of justice, the heroes, and the ones that use them to enact despicable deeds, the villains.
Zion City has had its fair share of heroes and villains, all of them memorable in their own ways, but their current hero, one that goes by the name of Shadik, is, in all honesty, a disappointment.
Shadik, scorned by all, must protect Zion City with the help of her new, inexperienced partner while rebuilding her reputation, but something is brewing in Zion City’s shadows. Something evil.
Something that will bring everyone in Zion City down if they get in the way to its goal.
______
"GIVE ME THAT." She growled, her blazing eyes hidden by the sweat-damp bangs hanging in front of her face, as she tried to snatch the alcoholic beverage from the suited man in front of her.
"Shadik," he called, "it is in your best interest to hold your tongue and sit down."
The man, a handsome lad in his thirties, pointed towards the couch just behind the spandex covered individual called Shadik.
"JUST GIVE ME THE FUCKING VODKA." The distraught woman cried, her fingers curling into her hand as a bright purple light started to grow in her palm.
The man didn't move an inch, not surprised by the power the infuriated female was displaying, and simply gave the glass bottle to one of his many subordinates, who threw it out of the apartment's window.
"NO!" Shadik yelled, running up to the window just to see the shards of the bottle scattered in the ground seven stories below. She pulled on her black hair and turned towards the man. "WHY DID YOU DO THAT? THAT BOTTLE WAS MINE! YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO THROW AWAY SOMETHING THAT BELONGS TO ME!."
The man more commonly known as the Chancellor stared impassively at the raging female before bluntly establishing that "You are forgetting your place Shadik. We are upholders of law and justice, and not even your involvement with our organization will be a sufficient excuse for breaking the law regarding underage drinking."
"I AM NOT DRINKING UNDERAGE! I AM OF LEGAL DRINKING AGE IN GERMANY AND-"
"You are only eighteen, Shadik. Therefore, you must not drink until you turn twenty-one years old and I am not going to give you leeway to break the law just because you are in a mood."
Shadik growled. "So, you won't let me drink, but you will break the law to keep me in your employ? That's underage labour!"
A shadow crossed the Chancellor's perfectly shaven face, and with a glance at the many superheroes standing in the apartment's large living room, ordered them to grab the rebellious teenager.
The fight between the superheroes and Shadik was short-lived, and soon Shadik found herself restrained by all of them and forced to hear the Chancellor speak uninterrupted.
"You are erratic, Shadik. You are destroying the city more than you are saving it and have failed countless times to either catch the villains or protect the civilians."
"We've been lenient to you given your family history but this behaviour must stop, Shadik. As of now, you are deemed unfit to be the sole protector of the city."
Shadik's grey eyes widened at the implications behind said statement, and a burning blush appeared on her grime-covered cheeks as the Chancellor bluntly discredited her work in the city.
"You are to be assigned a partner, a co-hero if you must. You are required to provide housing but the League will cover all their living expenses."
The rest of the powered people in the room gasped. It was unheard of for a hero to be partnered with another hero for long term situations, and tarnished Zion City's reputation not only in the super-powered world but in the civilian one.
The Zion City people would not be kind to this new, unfortunate hero, not when they already had one, as incompetent as they considered Shadik to be.
"Your partner will be here in a week. In the meanwhile, whenever you receive a crime alert, it will be redirected to one of the available heroes to deal with. You must not engage until your partner has arrived "
Shadik's blood boiled, she was not useless! The Chancellor was stabbing at her already wounded pride with a red hot pole just by degrading her this way in front of a quarter of the League's heroes, but giving her a partner and announcing it?
That was the worst thing he could've ever done to her.
With a wave of the Chancellor's hand, the rest of the heroes released Shadik, who remained speechless at the revelations, and left the apartment with nothing but pitying stares directed at the unfortunate host.
The Chancellor stood from his seat in the leather armchair and stalked towards the shocked teenager. He laid a hand on her shoulder and looked directly into her dull grey eyes.
"You are no Zion, Shadik. Don't try to be something you can't be."
These were the Chancellor's last words before he left Shadik's apartment, silently shutting the door after him.
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(Next)
I Stay Up At Night
I stay up at night wondering
If you like me too
I have tried to let thoughts of you go
I don’t ask because I'm not ready for the answer of, no
I remember that time
We stared into each others eyes
Between both pairs of our blue eyes blinking
Were you thinking what I was thinking?
Probably not
You're far too perfectly professional
I know I'm quite
Silly for dreaming about this turning out right
Part of me wants to leave our story off here
Rather than adding the flames to the fire
And you’ve had enough space and time to let
You forget
What being together was like…
Living what life had to offer in only fairytales
With the guidelines of never to kiss,
Only to miss
I was defenseless against
Knowing that finding another one like you will be practically impossible to do
Dancing with each other, only metaphorically, while making up our own constellations
All because of our catch-22 situation
I don’t know about you, but I remember that time
You sat so close in front of me
We touched at clothed knees
From just that I could feel the electricity
I can feel your love wearing off
As you have begun forgetting me
Wearing off like a good view
Always happens to do
You Knocked My Walls Down
You managed to knock down my walls
Which in itself
Is an impressive task
You knocked them down
And now I'm left in this deserted wasteland
Of thoughts
I look around
At the angry graffiti
That I am not proud of
I've built Berlin Walls
Around myself
And it's a fresh feeling having them knocked down
But I'm scared
Of the creepers
And the things that live in the shadows of the trees
You knocked my walls down
And now all that’s left is
Me
Lachrymorose
Seconds away from crying
This Hoover Dam of an eyelid is doing a good job
But it’s seconds away from breaking
All these tears dammed up inside could make Lake Lachrymose,
Leeches, Aunt Josephine and all
That was until she took the fall...
Tears on a cliff
Stacked up on a penny
About to spill over the thin edge
My hot tears
Have the potential
To set this place on fire
I know that
If I were to let them tumble down
They would burn my flesh with streams of lava
Droplets from the sun
Rain from Venus
This salt water is boiling within
Like tears from Rappaccini’s daughter
I am on my own
For I am poison
But I refuse to let them fall
Like pieces of hell
Raining from the ceiling
A Crack In My Self Loathing
I accidentally just fell in love with myself
It was a crack in my self loathing that will soon be mended
It was the messy hair
That was still messy despite the ponytail
Despite my favorite hat containing it
It was my blue eyes
Looking at me
In my baggy hand-me-down shirt
That makes me feel
Comfortable
It was knowing that I had clay all over me
A mess
But that's exactly what I am
And I know its a flaw
But sometimes
It's the one style I know how to rock
Part mess and part artist
I wasn't trying to love myself in this moment
It just happened
When I looked in the mirror
Because I was about to brush my teeth for the night
No Strings Attached
I've got a violin with no strings attached
This bow is flying like arrows do
Either war
Or cupid
Someone is bowing my heart
In every direction
And I can feel the passion
Leaping off the floor,
Like someone stepping on a nail
There is a lullaby needed
To pull at the strings that
Are attached to my heart
Knowing that, never
Can be a reality
I live behind these never strings
Like I'm living in a dungeon without
A king
To rescue me from
This violin
This tied bow
On the present
Of this rosen life
Abstract
Can you take my anger? And pass me the settledness? I think I need a coat hanger for my anger To hang it up
I keep my dreams in the closet And my hopes in a drawer When I grow up I can take them out And wear them higher I keep my fears Under the bed They live with the monsters, Who keep my fears from getting misplaced I keep my misery in the basement Where I hope it’ll get lost But I see it every time I do laundry One time I tried to hang it out to dry I keep stupidity in the attic With the light on Often times I have bright ideas I keep passion on the floor It's too much for me to handle, When I keep depression Strung around my fingers Which keeps me from forgetting That I left jealousy Brewing and boiling on the stove A poignant smell that makes I keep happiness On pieces of yellowed paper Which are stuck up on the fridge with magnets The messy drawings of not caring mock me as I pull pity out to eat for a midnight snack
Two Types of Fallen
Have I fallen out of love?
I hope not
Love is what I for so long have sought
Have we gotten out of the honey moon part of a relationship?
Maybe I should have stayed in doors with penny, used napkin and chip Or is it my depression and you trying to get over Alex?
I'm not giving up on our love yet
Will Wednesday solve our problems, when we have set?
What you don't know and might not understand is that it is normal for me to disappear
I will always come back, never fear Hopefully you'll be there
My heart beats like a drum
Sometimes I go numb
I wish that you could understand more
I don't complain to you because I don't want to be a bore When I become numb
Your love will be the first thing I'll feel
For now I must deal
I refuse to let you go
I love you, I want you to know No I'm not just saying that
Let's not forget that us and our double dates are a band
Let's not forget what it feels like to be poor but own all of earth's land
With my music
I won't totally lose it.
Scared Of Falling
Thanks to my ex I'm scared of falling Are you going to break me next? I don’t want to lead you on For me to start playing the love game would be wrong I'm scared of falling, For you I don’t even know if you and your girl are done brawling I do like your three sizes too big hat On the futon, I like where you sat For you I believe I'm falling for I'm just getting over the flu Oh Kyle, Are you going to leave me in a heart-broken pile? I believe I'm falling for, Kyle Which one of us is going to be the first to walk out the door? I really wonder if you write songs Have you ever played ping-pong? Kyle, You seem more down to earth I don’t mind if you hang around for a while Just know that I might not be ready To get with the worse than a soft, stuffed, teddy You seem more down to earth The way you looked at me I think you could tell what I'm worth No pressure is what you said, backstage You were on the same page The way you looked at me, Made me smile Would you mind if it sometimes felt as if I was trying to flee? Should I let myself fall? Or will I end up crippled and have to crawl? You made me smile Yes, you, Kyle For me would you go the extra mile? If so, would you stick around for a while?