Blaze Takes Over: The Life Of A Superhero

Hi, peoples! It’s Blaze here. So for some odd reason, C.B. agreed that I could kidnap her blog for the last week of the Fan Creations Contest. Speaking of which, there are only three days left to submit your creations! You can also go check out some of the awesome fanart you guys have submitted, including some very nice portraits of myself.

So I was trying to figure out what to do with the blog now that I’ve taken it over, and since C.B. said I couldn’t post a snippet from Lightporter (something about spoilers and editing and blah blah blah), I decided to look around for some suggestions, and Hazel West suggested that I talk about the life of a superhero, something that I’m definitely an expert on.

I guess this post is going to be introspective, which I am usually not. So I’ll just dive right in.

One of the top concerns for superheroes is this: who knows that we have powers? For myself, none of my family knows that I have powers, and the people who do know that I have powers don’t know my true identity. To put it more simply, my two identities, superhero and normal, are completely separate. Except for Data, that is. She is the only person in the world who knows who I am when I’m not Blaze.

And since that’s quite uncomfortable territory to talk about, I’m going to move on now.

I have it easier than most superheroes. My power is easier to hide, considering I can turn invisible or make illusions of myself doing other things. Teleportation is also handy for getting out of tight spots, although I have to be careful not to use any of my powers when I’m not acting as Blaze. The nice thing about having my personas completely separated is that it’s easier to just… become a different person when I put my mask on. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still me. I’m just a more outgoing and heroic version of me, and I’m more willing to do things I wouldn’t normally do. I feel like this is true for a lot of superheroes, and supervillains, to an extent.

Being a superhero has given me opportunities to do a lot of cool things. I mean, come on, I have teleportation. I’ve traveled all over the world, eaten so many different foods, and made friends in tons of countries (and a few enemies, thanks to some unfortunate accidents). I’ve actually learned bits and pieces of a few different languages as well.

But the best part about being a superhero is working with other superheroes and saving people. That’s the whole point, right? If I don’t use my powers for good, then what’s the purpose of them? Other than going out to buy food whenever I feel like it, that is. Saving people is what being a superhero is truly about.

I feel like that’s enough musing for now. I’m going to try and keep control of the blog for as long as I can, so comment down below and let me know what you think I should post about! Did you like this post? Got any questions to ask me about the superhero life?

Blaze out! 😎

Writing About Writing: How To Be A Writer Without Being A Hermit

If you’re like me, sometimes you realize that you spend more time with a notebook and pencil or a computer than your own family and friends. And while it’s important to write, and to pursue your dreams and passions, you shouldn’t shut yourself off from the real world. (No quotation marks there, people. I’m being sort of serious.) So here are a few tips to help you not become a writing hermit.

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Tip #1: Include family and friends in the writing and editing process.

Ask your siblings what they think of your latest plot idea. Read some of your work out loud to your friends (and let them squeal with you over your awesome love interest or your wonderfully witty dialogue). Have your parents help you with editing and proofreading. Let people read your story! It’s no fun to do it alone, anyway. Why not let your friends and family help you out?

Tip #2: Find real-life wriing buddies.

Yes, you may have over a hundred followers on social media. But nothing beats a real life friend you can write with. Not only do you not have to worry about being in different time zones, you can also meet at a bookstore! Or a coffee shop! Or go on a writing retreat into the mountains!

Tip #3: Step away from your story.

This is NOT procrastination. Well, it could be. But I will promise you that it’s much, much more important to build a relationship with those closest to you than it is to sit in front of a computer writing (or doing something else like procrastination, if you’re stuck on your story). If you’re not writing anyway, why not go on a walk with your family? Or maybe make cookies and talk with your family while you eat them. Or *gasp* help your mom clean the house!

Those are just a few ways to help you work on writing while not sitting hunched behind a computer all day. Thoughts on this list? Authors, do you have any ways you work on writing while still being social in real life? Comment below with your thoughts!

Beautiful People: Albany’s Childhood | Fantastic Friday

Hullo, everyone! I kind of… forgot about posting, didn’t I? Whoops. I was trying to figure out what I could do for a Fantastic Friday post this week, and I had pretty much decided to just wait and do the Monday post I was planning, but then this month’s Beautiful People link-up appeared in my inbox! So why not? I was originally planning to use Anvil for the next Beautiful People, but since this one is a childhood edition, I decided it would be better to use Albany, since Anvil’s would be… not happy. Well, let’s get on with the questions!

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  1. What are their first childhood memory? Albany has a lot of vague “first memories,” but the first one that’s actually clear is the first time she and Brooklyn communicated telepathically, which was when they were about three. That was the first time they realized they were doing it, at least. It was a very traumatic moment and consisted of lots confused baby talk in their heads.
  2. What were their best and worst childhood experiences? Her best childhood experience was probably the time she spent with her dad and Denver at a playground for three hours. That’s one of her older memories, but a favorite one. Her worst childhood experience was probably the time she fell off a tall slide, off the side, or any other time when her curiosity got her into trouble.
  3. What was their childhood home like? It was an averaged sized house, but it was an older house, so it had lots of fun nooks and crannies to hide in. It was certainly a happy place, and they were sad to leave it.
  4. What’s something that scared them as child? Albany was absolutely terrified of heights when she was younger. Bugs and snakes she could handle, but put her up on a tall ladder and you would find out how loud she could scream–and how tight she could hold onto something.
  5. Who did they look up to most? Her older Denver, for sure. To her, he was the most awesome person in the world, and she would follow him around everywhere she could. Until he got too cool to have his little sister hanging around him. But he got over that phase pretty quickly.
  6. Favourite and least favourite childhood foods?  I’m not sure she had a least favorite food, but if she did, it would probably be broccoli or something like that. Her favorite food growing up was Mac and Cheese. Any kind, anywhere. Especially if it had breadcrumbs on top.
  7. If they had their childhood again, would they change anything? Albany would probably say no. She loves they way her life is, and she wouldn’t want anything to change that. Plus, she had a really good childhood.
  8. What kind of child were they? Curious? Wild? Quiet? Devious? Heh. Need this even be a question? She was the most curious child on the face of the planet–still is, in fact. She got into trouble quite a bit, and relied on Brooklyn to help her out.
  9. What was their relationship to their parents and siblings like? Albany was close to her parents when she was little, and told them everything (still does, if she can), but she was always closer to Denver and Brooklyn. She and Brooklyn went everywhere together, since they were twins, not to mention they had their telepathic connection. And as I mentioned before, she adored Denver.
  10. What did they want to be when they grew up, and what did they actually become? When Albany was little, she wanted to be a character in a book. Not kidding. Because don’t all bookworms want that at some point? (Don’t tell her, but she got her wish!) There were times when she wanted to be a princess or an elf, and sometimes she decided she wanted to be a spy or a president. Nothing normal, that’s for sure. As of yet, all she’s become is a superhero, so…

I hope you enjoyed getting to learn about Albany’s childhood! She’s an adorable character, and I can’t wait for all of you to read Twinepathy in its full and final form soon!

An Update On Writing And Life (Complete With Memes)

Hello, everyone! I realized that I hadn’t really done a post about writing in a while… so why not.

Lately, school has been horrendous. Especially physics…

"You should see the looks on your faces because you look-ridicul

Drivers’ ed has been pretty time consuming, too.

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And no, I haven’t totaled our car. Or even gotten into an accident. Although I did kind of run over a curb and scrape up the bottom of the car… But never mind that. (Those two memes were made by yours truly, the rest aren’t.) But alas, homeschooling. Contrary to popular belief…

really homeschooler

Exactly.

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And not all of us sleep in until noon and stay in our pajamas and don’t do any schoolwork.

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But besides loads of schoolwork, and co-op…

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…there have also been chores…

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…and taking care of the dog.

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Not my dog. Oh, and music lessons.

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Except I play the piano. Then writing.

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Sometimes I get distracted by reading, though…

Or coming up with plot twists.

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But basically…

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That is the hardest part. The funniest part?

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So, enough with the memes. For now. My current work in progress has been going pretty slow (hence the next to last meme) but I am currently just over ninety pages, which makes it the longest story I’ve ever written. You may have noticed that I adjusted my word count goal on the sidebar. That’s mostly because it is certainly not going to be 60,000 words. It’s around 25,ooo words right now (amazing for me!) and it’ll probably be around 30,000 words/100 pages when I finish.

I know I said enough with the memes, but this one (made by me from this song) pretty much sums everything up.

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Hope you’ve enjoyed this and laughed along the way! 😀

Avengers’ Isle: The Sand In My Hair

Helloooo, readers! I apologize for this being so short and not posting last week, but if I had posted it then, all you would’ve had was the first sentence. 😀 Enjoy! See previous parts here.

Thor might have thought he was on Asgard if not for the sand in his hair. Thor had to admit that he liked his hair, and maybe even took a little pride in how it looked. Just like Volstagg and his beard. Sand in his hair was like food in Volstagg’s beard. Annoying, but inevitable on this island.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes before gazing around. He was surprised to notice that Captain Rogers was nowhere to be seen. Usually he was the first one up, but the captain seemed to have beaten him this morning.

Thor stretched and stood. The fire was nearly out, so he fed it with some wood he and Captain Rogers had gathered the night before. They would need to cook breakfast after the captain came back, hopefully with food. He paused. He hadn’t realized until now, but he hadn’t seen any animals or heard any birds since arriving at the island. Frowning, he switched directions and made his way over to the edge of the water. Some small pools had formed in hollow spaces a little ways down the beach, and he knelt over them. No sign of any fish. No life at all.

A shiver ran down his spine and he gazed up at the sky. Nothing. No birds. No fish. No creatures. No life.

He walked quickly back to the campfire, keeping an eye on it. Where had the captain gone? Now was not the time to disappear. He found himself pacing and forced himself to sit down and think this through. Not thinking was what had landed him powerless on Midgard originally. Good eventually came out of that, but at a price. He must think.

The fire began to dwindle again, so he decided to stay busy by finding some more wood. He headed over to the forest, but froze. A leg covered in familiar blue fabric stuck out of the underbrush.

Thor hurried over and easily uncovered the captain, uprooting a bush in the process. The captain lay on his face, and when Thor turned him over, he found a purplish bruise forming just above his temple.

The captain stirred in his arms and moaned. Thor shook him gently. “Are you all right?” he asked. The other man blinked, looking woozy. Then his eyes widened and he began to attempt to struggle. In his weakened state, it was easy for Thor to keep a grip on him. “What’s wrong?” Thor asked.

The captain gazed around frantically. “B-b… b…” he croaked hoarsely.

Thor’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “B?” He thought. “Bilchsteim? Bifrost? Bruise?”

The captain slumped, a pained look crossing his face. “Bucky.”

Duh-duh-duhnnn…

A like gets you a trip to Asgard, a comment lets Thor and company be your tour guides.

The Results Of A Contest And A Poem

No, this isn’t about my Super-Duper Fan Fiction Crossover Challenge… although I must point out I still haven’t received any entries… But no, this is about a contest I entered. A poetry contest. The finalists were announced today… and I made it to the finals.

I made it to the finals.

What???

The irony. I wrote the poem for fun, with little editing, and… I don’t even like poetry that much…

Ah, well. Here’s a sonnet I wrote for English a while back. Hope you enjoy!

 

Like The Flowing Sea

The ocean waves flow like the prairie grass.

They softly whisper on the sandy beach,

Then crash onto the rocks with violent speech

As the sand slides back in an hourglass.

Seaweed, clam shells, and sea water drift past,

And the fingers of waves stretch and reach.

The water flows and seems to beseech

The bright bold sun to turn it to glass.

Without the constant ebb and flow of life

We would not be able to learn and grow.

The long, strong struggles test you and me;

We will grow stronger through all the strife.

And by the ocean’s movement we will know

That life is so much like the flowing sea.

 

I Love…

I love writing stories.

God is the best writer of stories.

I love creating characters.

God loved creating you.

I love the characters I create.

God loves you.

I love imagining new worlds and places.

God created this world and all its amazing places.

I love finding how a story ends.

God knows exactly how your story will end.

Eric – Part One

This story was sooo much fun to write. Please let me know if you like it and provide feedback, and let me know if you can figure out the significance of Eric’s and Jeremiah’s names. 😀

“Eric!” a young woman called from the doorway of the small cottage. Her light brown hair was swept back into a bun, and her clear blue eyes searched the surrounding countryside with several other cottages scattered nearby. “Eric!” she called again. A laughing little boy only five years old came running around the edge of the house, his blue eyes sparkling in merriment. He ran up to the woman, the sun glinting off his golden hair. Another little boy ran around the corner of the house, stopping suddenly and watching the golden-haired boy. He had stunning red hair and green eyes. The lady turned to the golden-haired child.

“Who’s this, Eric?” she asked him.

“This is Jeremiah,” Eric replied.

The young woman turned to the other boy. “Did you just move to one of the cottages?” she asked.

Jeremiah nodded solemnly. “My parents couldn’t find work in the last town,” he told her. His voice was clear and strong, surprising for a young boy.

“Well, I’m glad the two of you have made friends with each other,” the woman said, smiling. “Eric, you need to get ready for dinner, though.”

Eric smiled up at her. “Yes, Mama,” he replied cheerfully. He skipped up to the door but turned in the doorway. “Bye, Jeremiah,” he called, waving to his friend. The little redhead smiled and waved back, then disappeared over a small hill. The young woman watched him depart and then turned back into the house.

~~~

“Hi, Jeremiah!” Eric exclaimed as he and his friend met in their usual spot almost a month later. Jeremiah smiled at his friend, but his face was sad. Eric frowned. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“”We’re moving again,” Jeremiah told his friend.

“What?”

Jeremiah nodded. “My parents still haven’t been able to find work. They’ve decided that we should try another town.”

Eric’s eyes filled with tears. “But you’re my best friend!” he protested. “You can’t leave!”

Jeremiah’s eyes were sad. “I know, but I have to leave.” He hesitated. “I have two secrets I want to tell you first, and then I have to go.”

“Really?” Eric asked, leaning towards Jeremiah from his spot next to a tall tree.

“Yeah.” Jeremiah took a deep breath. “First: I’m adopted.”

Eric’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Jeremiah nodded. “My parents told me when I was four.”

“Whoa,” Eric whispered. He tilted his head to the side. “What’s the second secret?” he asked.

Jeremiah leaned forward. “Well, I have these dreams,” he whispered. “They always come true! One time, when I was little, I had a dream that I met a golden-haired boy with blue eyes named Eric.”

“Wow!” Eric exclaimed.

Jeremiah nodded. “I know. “Well, last night, I had a dream about you. You became a king!”

Eric’s eyes got even bigger. “Me?”

“Yes,” Jeremiah replied. He paused. “I just felt that I needed to tell you.”

“Thanks,” Eric said gratefully. “Although I don’t know if that dream will really come true.”

Jeremiah’s eyes twinkled, then became sad. “I have to go now,” he told his friend softly.

Tears filed Eric’s eyes once again. “Please don’t go,” he pleaded.

“I have to,” Jeremiah told him sorrowfully. He clasped his friend’s hand. “I’ll always remember you, Eric. We shall see each other again, my friend.” Jeremiah squeezed Eric’s hand one last time, and Eric watched his friend disappear into the forest.

~~~

Many years passed, and Eric found himself quite well off. Soon after Jeremiah left, Eric’s parents had begun to rise in both wealth and social status. They were able to pay for Eric to be schooled. His teacher soon discovered that he was quick and intelligent.

“He’s much wiser than most children his age,” she told his parents once. “He has an insight that’s hard to explain.”

Several years after that, Eric’s wisdom helped him. The king heard of Eric, and called him to the court. He asked Eric’s advice on several small, trivial matters to test him. Eric was soon appointed the king’s royal advisor.

Eric didn’t take advantage of his high position like many of the other officers. He was kind to everyone, and humble. His wise advice and kind spirit soon made him the second most powerful man in the kingdom. His life was full of happiness, including with his wife and children.

Then, one day, the king was pushed off his balcony by one of his servants. By the time the rest of the servants reached him, he was dead. Eric was horrified. He had become close to the king, and had even considered him a good friend, and now he was dead.

The former king had no heirs. Eric could never remember quite how it happened, but, somehow, it was decided that he should be the new king. The memories flooded back: a little red-haired boy sitting in the forest and a dream about Eric becoming a king. He remembered doubting the dream. Now it was coming true.

The preparations for the coronation ceremony proceeded frantically. Eric disliked the kingly clothes he was forced to wear, but he wore them anyway. He resented the extravagant decorations, but he approved them anyway. He didn’t believe that he should be king, but he felt that it was his duty to the people.

The coronation ceremony was beautiful, and Eric and his family settled into life in the castle. It seemed like it would be a happy life. The people respected Eric, and so did his advisors and officers. The country prospered, utilizing its natural resources in the most efficient way possible.

Then it happened: war. Two neighboring countries grew jealous of their prosperity and invaded quickly after they declared war. Eric was devastated, but he knew that he had to defend his country.

The army gathered and set off. King Eric and several of his advisors led the soldiers into battle.

The war dragged on. Weeks were spent fighting, and neither side gained an advantage. King Eric’s men were soon exhausted from the endless fighting.

Slowly but surely, the enemy began beating down King Eric’s army. New soldiers arrived for the enemy, and King Eric’s men were forced to flee. King Eric insisted that he and his advisors cover the retreat, to the dismay of his advisors.

One night, he and his advisors bedded down in a hidden clearing, taking turns keeping watch. King Eric fell asleep quickly. He awoke around midnight and found that his advisors had abandoned him, taking all of the weapons and supplies and leaving him with only the blanket he was sleeping on.

The Answer

“Please wake up, Betsy,” Alice whispered.

Alice gripped her sister’s hand as she listened to the heart monitor beep. She hadn’t slept in days while her sister was in the hospital, and her face was pale and drawn. Her sister’s white face looked so small on the pillow. Alice bowed her head in silent prayer.

“God, please, heal my sister,” she pleaded silently. “I need her so much. My parents told me when I was young that you listen to every prayer, and that you’ll answer. I know I haven’t been the most faithful,” she gulped back tears, “but I need you to heal Betsy.” Alice laid her head on the hospital bed, struggling to hold back tears. She drifted off to sleep, not noticing when the heart monitor’s beeping slowed and then, finally, stopped.

“Miss Alice?” a nurse asked softly, gently shaking Alice awake. Alice sat up, struggling to hold back a yawn. She looked down at her sister’s still figure. The hand she was still grasping was icy cold.

“I’m sorry, Miss Alice,” the nurse whispered sympathetically. “She-she died only a few minutes ago.

Later that day, Alice dragged her feet in through the autumn leaves that had fallen and covered the sidewalk. She looked up at the gray cloud-covered sky. A single raindrop fell and landed on the end of her nose. She wiped it away harshly.

“God, why didn’t you answer me? I asked you to heal Betsy, but you didn’t,” she whispered angrily.

A voice deep inside her soul whispered to her. I did answer. But I have something better in mind for both of you. Just trust Me.