You've Got Male Models

A 20-year old prodigy heart surgeon, Chris Cahill, did not expect to share her apartment (or her life) with two aspiring male models when she finally gains her independence. A story in the process of their interesting (and equally hilarious!) adventures of three different individuals living in the present.

JournalWords

I write on a whim, and somewhere along the line, I have collected journals full of phrases and ideas that I use to spark a story. Got any ideas, feel free to share them. How would you interpret a JournalWord?

I ADORE THEM ALL!

Gladiators, Bad-ass priests, Robots, Demons, Cowboys, Demon-Cowboys, Fast-food cashiers, Ninjas, Butlers, Pirates, Sailors... The list goes on and they all make me swoon! (We are instant best buddies if you feel the same, just saying)

Bless

Albeit reluctantly, Sarah finds herself with the responsibility of raising an angel after he crashes from the sky. Sci-fi, supernatural, and a little silly.

Mera

I'm a fiend. *cheeky smile*

Wednesday, 26 June 2013

All My Pretties

JournalWord: She likes to collect pretty things.

::

Stepping back from the teal box, she grins and claps her hands in front of herself enthusiastically. "My!" she exclaims,  surveying her work. "That shade of blue really pops out the green in your eyes. You look even more gorgeous than you did half an hour ago."

Her only reply is a series of muffles which she quickly shushes with a firm frown and wagging finger. "That is pure silk, my pretty angel, and it doesn't take well to saliva staining it's brilliance, so stop your sputtering or I'll have to replace that bow over your mouth."

She likes to keep pretty things in boxes, tucked into pastel and floral boxes, and wrapped in big, silky bows. She keeps gems, jewelry, tea cups with matching tea pots, daisies, roses, and anything else that takes her fancy.

Tightening a bow so the ribbons don't twist, she pets the blonde hair peeking through the lush material. Lifting the ornate lid for the box, and ignoring the squirming of her prize, she pats the lid over the box, sealing another precious joy away.

She likes to keep her pretty men in boxes, tucked into pastel and floral boxes, and wrapped in big, silky bows.

::

I'm keeping busy, that's for sure!
I'm attempting to crank out a chapter for a collaboration I'm working on at Protagonize, and right now, with my first priority being work, the progress is a bit slow.

So that means the posts here a tad bit slower than the project :l

I'm going to accomplish this! 

Keep bubbly! :D
mera.





Friday, 21 June 2013

Jumping The Gun

JournalWord: Hold me in your arms.

::

"Nobody move, or I'll shoot!" he shouts, pressing the muzzle deeper into her dark wavy hair.

Everyone in the bank instantly complies, dropping to the floor like stunned flies and uttering, not a peep.

The girl in his arms starts to struggle, and suddenly he sweats when she squirms easily in his grasp. Panicking, he neglects the reason why she would turn around instead of running away.

"This is so romantic," she exclaims, bright eyed and perky despite the gun aimed at her face.

His hand wavers and someone stifles a sob as the gun sweeps the floor from his wet palm. "What?"

"It'll be like Stockholm Syndrome, and we'll have this great love affair, where the news will be captivated yet disturbed by our affections, and we'll be famous-"

Instantly, he shoves her far from himself, breaking into a sprint out of the bank.


Startled, she runs after him. "Wait! Hold me in your arms again! Come back!"

::

Another short to get me back into the game of writing. Now that I'm not stressed about studying, I am at your service to entertain and write stories to my heart's content! 

So bring on the inspiration and let's get this party started :)

Keeping bubbly!
mera.

Wednesday, 12 June 2013

Wooden Horse

JournalWord: Fighting gravity.

::

She examines the horse, poised on the tips of its back hooves and balancing as it stands tall on the clear glass tabletop. The curve of its back is a series of slopes and arches, almost a vertical posture as its front feet kick at the sky.

His mane is tossed back in frozen waves, curling into itself like a tornado, and the wispy tail is a whirlwind of incoming clouds. The dappled grey hide glints from a polish set into the grain. She wonders if he's even touching the table.

"Papa," she asks her grandfather as she settles her head onto the backs of her hands, waiting for the sparkle to appear in its eye. "How long did it take for you to carve him?"


"Two months," is his gruff reply as he tinkers on a wooden cuckoo-clock on his work bench. "It took two months to fight with gravity."

::

Another short!
I'm juggling (when am I not?) work and responsibilities, and studying for my interview is not helping for time to write :(

I'm in need of some time for intimate laptop-me-inspiration cuddles..

Well, keep bubbly, and wish me luck :)
Mera.

Saturday, 8 June 2013

A Drop For A Bottle

JournalWord: Catching teardrops.

::

"A teardrop from the heartless," he whispers with a satisfied smile as he corks the tiny bottle and pockets the glass bottle into the confines of his leather jacket, over his chest.

He starts a leisurely pace out of the shadows of the alley, not a glance or hint of concern at the slumped body perched against the grimy alley wall.

She doesn't move, allowing her tears to collect into a pool in the hollow of her lap. Her hair is now a mess of tangles from where her hand had dug itself a nest to keep from grasping at the truth. Her chest swells as his footsteps echo, almost soundlessly, leaving her behind, as if he hadn't exposed her secrets and flaws, and she curses.

Not a hex touches him, and he grins, having found another addition to his collection.

::

Something super short that I added to a collab on Protagonize :)

He collects teardrops on various emotions and people, going to whatever means to extract the specific teardrop, even using cruel methods to shatter hearts.

On another note, I was extremely busy the last couple of days playing paparazzi for my brother's graduation! :D I'm so proud of my little brother and his accomplishments! 
(And yes, I do have a brother complex.. on both of my little brothers :P)

Keep bubbly!
Mera.

Monday, 3 June 2013

Wonder

The fourth installment of Bless! It's a long time coming :P

::

Sarah quickly realizes that aside from feeding Blue, she has run out of ideas to keep him busy. Over her cleared plate, she turns to once again glance at the clock, only to find that it has only been ten minutes since she's last checked. Sighing, she stacks her utensils on her plate and wipes her mouth with her napkin as she studies the brown haired boy across her table. 

This is so strange, she muses, and smiles when he practices his grip on the fork and spoon. The rice topples from the edge of the spoon as he lifts it to his gaping mouth and he frowns as he realizes that he hasn't shoveled anything in.

Where did he come from and why does he not know how to use a spoon? She sips from her glass of water and raises her eyebrows, lightly tapping her temple with her knuckles. Of all questions, why do I have a boy with wings in my apartment? Of course, why do I keep forgetting he's not just a normal, clueless boy.

"Seh-rah," a voice chimes, interrupting her questioning thoughts, and she smiles, remembering when he had initially repeated her name as she was prepping the salad. Now he holds up his spoon, his fork clutched between his right fingers, forgotten as he had opted to concentrate solely on his left hand. 

She isn't quite sure what he is expecting so she sets her water glass down and claps her hands together and maintains her smile. "You did it, awesome," she exclaims and his excitement radiates throughout the kitchen. "Now eat it up before it falls," she adds, noticing the grains dangerously wavering as he holds up the silverware. 

The last spoonful swoops into his mouth and his pleasure flutters his wings underneath his jersey, appearing as if his shoulders are jostling from laughter. A golden glow momentarily encircles the crown of his head, but Sarah quickly shakes away the image with a toss of her blonde hair, blaming the suggestions of angels. 

So before her mind wanders any further, she collects Blue's rice speckled plate as he reaches for his glass of juice and gently tugs the fork and spoon from his hands so he can grip the glass easier. 

"Is there anything you'd like to do, Blue?" she asks, although hesitant. What do boys like to do?  she wonders, thinking back to the days when Sam would disappear without her to play kickball with the neighborhood boys.

"Seh-rah," Blue chimes again, holding up the empty glass for her, an expectant smile breaking his rosy cheeks. He glitters and she unconsciously relaxes under his ethereal glow. 

Stacking the plates and silverware so she can carry all the dishes, she gently pries the glass from his hands, thanking him softly with a congratulatory exclamation. Turning away from him with the dishes, she momentarily breathes a deep breath, finding that the same fluttering doubts and concerns that pop into her head immediately return when she isn't focused on Blue. If I just concentrate on Blue, and think of him as just a boy, maybe I can get through tonight, she hopes and loads her sink with suds.

Drying her hands on the dishtowel, she deems herself calm enough to face the boy kicking his feet as he waits at the table. Her eyes drift away from him before she gets caught up in his bright smile and innocent gaze. She desperately searches for something, anything, to occupy his attention. Considering she hasn't ever really gotten along with children, much less had them over, she can only decide on the one device that would capture any child's attention for hours. 

"Wanna watch T.V.?" she ponders, and he only cocks his head to the side with confusion flitting across his open eyes. 

::
 
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