This book Kingdoms' Poets contain a collection of poems from the members of my Kingdom. I am really hoping you who is reading this will join the poems from the mentioned poets. If you are interested in joining Kingdom, please let me know in the comments. Thank you for taking the time to read this.

My name is Luna Wolf, or as some people call me IceValkyrie or Ice for short. Ever since four years ago I have been able to have complete control over elements, it’s just the one I use most is Ice so people call me Ice the frost nightmare. I remember being at my middle school in 8th grade, it was the first day back to school after winter break.


"What happens if you miss curfew?"
"Well, you aren't allowed in. You have to wait until the doors open again in the morning."
"Well, that's stupid. What if there's an emergency, an accident, a flat tire?"
"It's considered discipline. By leaving you take on the consequences that you might not be able to get back in." That had been drilled into each nun from the time that she could remember. Nuns had been locked out before, and they always had a good reason for missing curfew. But there were no exceptions made.
Tim drove a little faster. He wasn't quite sure where the school was and Jane wasn't good with the directions, but he managed to get her home safely and soundly with seven minutes to spare. 
"Thank you Tim!" she yelled over her shoulder. "See you tomorrow!" She slammed the car door shut and hurried through the rain to the large foreboding building. 
He watched her until she was safely inside. He could see even through the bad weather that her hair was soaking wet and rain droplets clung to her dark skin. He had a strange urge to rub her dry with one of his huge terry cloth towels and strip her wet clothing off her trembling body.
He chuckled uneasily to himself. He hadn't had a Catholic school girl fantasy in years, and he didn't want to start them now. He drove home and instead of opening a beer he changed into athletic clothes and hit the treadmill. His knee creaked, his lungs burned, and he was dripping in sweat within a mere ten minutes, but he hung in there. Tomorrow it would hurt again, and the day after and maybe even the day after that. But soon it would get better. Isn't that what everybody always said?

II

Sister Louise gave Jane a stern look as she met the soaking wet girl in the entrance. "We need to have a talk, Jane. Please come to my office."
Jane pursed her lips nervously and followed the sister to the office. She didn't sit. She never did unless she was invited to. "Yes, Sister? Did I do something wrong?"
"Jane, you've really been cutting curfew close lately."
"I'm sorry, Sister. Mr. Singleton and I—"
Sister Louise held up her hand and closed her eyes. "The reasons aren't important. The frequency of it is." 
Jane bit her lip. 
"The rules are in place for a reason."
"But I've never missed curfew, ever."
"Jane, let me finish! Please." Sister cleared her throat as Jane tensed. "The rules I'm referring to are the rules against bringing the outside influences into the school." She reached into her drawer and withdrew Jane's books and the Blood Diamond CD, which was merely African music. 
Jane gasped and reached for the items, snatching them and holding them protectively against her chest. "You had no right! These are mine!"
"But they are in God's house. So it is you that have no right! You don't bring the world into God's house, Jane. You know that."
Her face twisted into one of frustration. "They are just books! And they are books of poetry! In my hands are …" She pulled them up one by one to show the sister. "The Complete Works of Emily Dickinson, The Complete Collected Poems of Maya Angelou, Robert Frost—"
Sister Louise was shaking her head. "But it's not allowed, child. I'm not trying to tell you that anything in your hand is bad. I'm trying to tell you that you broke the rules. You rationalized to yourself that because it wasn't 'bad' it was okay. It is not okay, Jane! There are rules in place for a reason."
Jane clutched her books and swallowed back frustrated tears. "Then they are bad rules."
"Child, that is just a sign that it is time for you to leave." 
Jane looked at her, and the first tear dropped from her eyes. 
"If every girl brought their idea of 'right' into the school then the lines would blur. When you come and you go you make the girls …"
Jane held her breath.
"You make them restless." 
"I … I don't want to go." Hot tears splashed from her eyes as she hugged her books.
"You have to. This is not a healthy place for you anymore."
Jane's stomach began to hurt, and she became lightheaded. "Where am I supposed to go?"
"Sister Nicolette said that you can stay with her until you find an apartment. There are also halfway houses."
Jane's vision blurred as the first sobs came.
"She's waiting to take you home with her now."
"Now?"
"Yes, Jane it's for the best." Sister Louise withdrew a large manila folder and slid it across the desk. "These are your documents." 
Jane reached for them and clutched them as well. 
"Jane, I'm so sorry."
"My name is not Jane!" 
Sister Louise stood and reached out a hand to her. "Child …"
"Do you even know my name?"
Sister Louise allowed her hand to lower and her brow gathered. "Martier Nufaika Besigye. I've never forgotten your name or the name of any child here."
"Then why did you give me a name that had no history?"
Sister Louise's eyes glistened. "I have forty-seven young girls to care for. Forty-seven. They have no family or their families left them behind. They are abused, starving, mentally disturbed. All I know to do is to put those girls in the hands of God."
Martier wiped her eyes. She would never go by the other name again. She gave Sister Louise one last look. "You were our God." Then she left.

III

Tim felt good again this morning. He whistled as he walked down the corridor even though his hamstrings were wire tight and there was a bit of a twinge in his knee. 
"Good morning, Jane." 
She looked up. "Could you please not call me Jane anymore?"
"What?" There was something different about her. Then he realized that it was her eyes. It was as if someone had turned the light off in them. Also the smile that he had become accustomed to seeing was no longer present. 
"Jane, come into my office, please." He waited for her to rise then he led her into the office and shut the door. "Sit down." 
She did as he asked. 
He hung up his coat, not taking his eyes from her. Was she wearing the same clothes from yesterday? The bottom of her skirt was a bit dark from yesterday's rain where her raincoat hadn't quite reached. What the hell? 
"What's happened?"




Pepper writes stories that span the gamut from humorous to heartfelt, however the common theme is crossing boundaries. Pepper's unique stories often tackle taboo topics such as mental illness and homelessness. Readers will find themselves questioning their own sense of right and wrong, attraction and desire.
In addition to writing, the author is also an artist, an introverted recluse, a self proclaimed empath and a foodie. Pepper Pace can be contacted at: 
pepperpace.author@yahoo.com

Jane used to have a different name, a different life—but that was before she was rescued from the refugee camp after the Rwandan genocide and brought to the convent to be raised. Now she is being dismissed, told to go out into the world. 

Tim Singleton lost his wife to breast cancer less than a year ago and yet the pain and anger is still fresh in his mind. When Corrine died, so did Tim’s faith…so when he received the call from the convent, Tim isn’t quite sure why he agreed to help the young African girl with a job. 

She didn’t quite fit in with the others at the law firm that wore thousand dollar Chanel suits while her clothes were picked with care from the donation bin at the church. At nearly six feet tall, the shy girl tried to become invisible in the hectic world around her. But if her ill-fitting clothes didn’t draw attention to her, then it was a beauty that couldn’t be hidden so easily.

Soon Jane sees Tim as not only her benefactor, but her one true love. But can Tim finally open up and allow someone else touch his heart? Can he forget their difference in race and age? And more importantly, would being with him mean the loss of her innocence?


" I really don't know what to write but since you want me to write something I'll write something. "

Ever watched Disney animation. I already asked this question to somebody but who is your favorite Disney Princess ? Every Disney Princess usually have some back story or another and just based on that my favorite is Mulan. You may be thinking Mulan is not a Disney Princess and all and yes your right technically she isn't one but she deserve to be so and so. 

Though I really didn't do any search back than, the first time I knew about her back story a was when I read it in ' I Really am A Superstar '. I really like the folktale (  I don't know whether it is a folktale or poem or what it is ) it was really something which most feminist have to learn from and to this day ' Ode to Mulan ' is still one of my favorite though I still haven't read any of the Four Great Classical Novels to really compare it to, and yes I also read some works by Li Bai and some Chinese guy whose name I forgot, don't blame cause Chinese name are hard for others. Also recommend me which one to read.

Also I have to say I really missed IRAS since I completed it through the dark side ( LNMTL ), such a shame it was stopped. And out of all the literature works be it poems or novels or whatever my favorite is ' The Road Not Taken ' by Robert Frost..

Now enough of the sharing problem if that is what it is called.

I really want to say something in short, more of a summary of  today. If you've read my previous chapter yesterday, today could be imagined as exactly as yesterday except of that instead of LPM we have SWC ( Soil and Water Conservation ), and that was pretty much today. Also tomorrow is my roommate's birthday, so 'yayyy' but I never really celebrate birthday so 'awwww'. Also I skipped dinner again and I am currently surviving on junk foods.

This is my tenth chapter so far so I wanna make it a little interesting, an introduction to be exact. 

My name is H.D.Bezelel and nicknamed myself as Bezelel666 which is a bit satanic cause it is. My parents named me after Beelzebub the Prince of Hell. I'm just kidding though, but am I ? I really love reading though I don't have the talent nor the willpower to do so, but a lot have happened in my life and I was really frustrated with my life and depressed and shit, more of a nihilist. I was on the verge of exploding ( not literally though ) and I myself knew I need to relieve some tension which led me here to write. I really don't care what I write as long as I am writing something though albeit be good or back, heck there might even be some racial slur though. And I really wanna say Thank you for being here with me though, I don't know whether I'll even stop and I trying to do this daily. Also I am doing my third semester for Bachelor in Agriculture and I hate herbarium collection.

Also you might have noticed that I am very lazy and I don't have the willpower to even do double checking so I sure there are a lot of mistakes, consider this as me growing up.

' Tired I am
  Tired,  
  Very Tired.
  Just tired though '


Also

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I was too bored.
So here I am writing this daily life of mine with mostly lies and false names.

Also I've been told I am socially awkward

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Some say the world will end in fire, 

Some say in ice. 

From what I've tasted of desire 

I hold with those who favor fire. 

But if it had to perish twice, 

I think I know enough of hate 

To say that for destruction ice 

Is also great 

And would suffice. 

-Fire and Ice; Robert Frost 

The piercing cold from a black night's sky was all I could remember when I was born. 

"Heaven promises you light," 

Ice spread from muscle to bone until I felt it creep through my tendons, freezing each and every artery in my body as it crawled through like a dystopian serial killer. 

"Heaven promises you peace," 

Though I screamed for breath, every intake of negative-degree frostbite felt forced and painful, like drawing permafrost into my lungs. I yearned to scream and howl, but they never left my mouth. Instead, it felt like I swallowed needles and my throat only grew raw. 

"Heaven wishes unto you peace," 

I had a heart but it did not beat. No blood surged through my veins to keep me warm. There was nothing but vengeful ice that scaled across my skin, burning with contempt. 

"Welcome to paradise," 

When my eyelids brushed open for the first time, I looked into his eyes and saw the galaxy. Every single heavenly body that orbited a single Garden, like how electrons orbited their nuclei. The sunset in his eyes was the fiery kiss of the day to the night, and the stars and moon seemed like a gift given to the universe by him. 

Then I noticed his hair, radiating luminescence like it was spun from pure gold. Every star and every constellation that encompassed the universe, all were found in the fine strands of his golden locks. 

"What is your name, child?" He beckoned. His voice resonated throughout the arena, gentle like the occasional breeze, but yet again reminiscent of the thunder that struck the sky when the clouds parted. 

Without warning or my command, my tongue lifted from its physical prison for the first time to utter my first words. My voice hoarse and crushed from choked screams. When I first spoke, I realized that they weren't my words, but rather, a voice in the back of my head, commanding every syllable that parted from my lips. 

"My name is Dantalion, Angel of Thought and Harbinger of the Fall." 

Though newly born, my mind was that of a man who had lived a thousand millennium lifetimes, each time reborn with even greater purpose and knowledge. 

I was born in a colosseum, the birthplace of a multitude of fine warriors, where heroes of fables came to do their time and build the walls that guard heaven. The marble floors were white as snow and clean, yet they reeked of the cries of the eternal fighters. What a tiring life, I thought, after having spent eternal lifetimes fighting for Eden, one might have thought that they would be able to finally rest; yet they were put to work, guarding the walls even after their demise. 

My hands, my arms, my fingertips, with them I traced every crevice of my body, feeling every perfection. With my fingers, I ran them through my hair, black and soft, like the plume of swan birds, creating rivers in the mortal world every time my nails grazed my scalp. 

I was wrapped in sheets of the softest linen and silk in the world. Woven from the universe itself, it draped loosely over my body. 

The wind. The air was crisp; like a breeze in the autumn evening, filled with the mild scent of fallen leaves and running river water. 

The secrets of the world brushed against my ears, whispering the ballads and odes of heroes and warriors, the sacrifices of valiant men and women. The melody and rhapsody of the world stirred to life like the crackling of a freshly-ignited bonfire. The beautiful sonnets of the birds and the insects, the forest's poems, everything. 

Chirp! 

My attention diverted to the sudden noise, a sharp cry that came from... my clothes? 

I lifted the folds of my linens to reveal... the tiniest, bird I had ever seen. 

It looked partially confused as to it's sudden release from it's soft prison. It's plume was a striking blue, but I couldn't tell if it was the colour of the sky, or rather the ocean. I cupped the swallow in my hands to bring it closer to my eyes. I suppose it was tired, because instantly, it nuzzled itself against my fingers and rested in the sieve of my fingers. 

Was this affection? I kind of liked the feeling. It reminded me of being warm and it was like the distant memory of my mother tucking me into bed on a rainy night, though I knew that was simply fantasy. 

He watched me explore my surroundings but did not utter a single word, more so preferring to peer at my sheer wonder and excitement, much like a father watching his son in a candy store. 

I felt his watchful regard even though my eyes were preoccupied with other things. Like the curious creator he was, he took note of every one of my motions. 

"Come, child, there is much to be told," 

And with a weary and tired smile, one of satisfaction and approval, he extended his hand, imploring me to take it. 

His smile reminded me of the first morning of winter. Pleasant, calming and gentle. I didn't know this man, and he spoke very little, but all it took was his smile and all of a sudden, I felt everything was going to be just fine. 

As the last remnants of the frost inhabiting my body dissipated, I took a glance at the shallow waters that I had been resting on. It was the first time I had seen my face since I was born. Every perfection seemed boring. I skipped over my plump cheeks, or my beautiful, sun-kissed lips. It all seemed so dull compared to my piercing gaze. 

Rather, my eyes had taken on an alluring, deep, aureate colour, shimmering like a pool of fresh rainwater. The tides rippled. 

This is going to be a long ride... 

And so, I grabbed his hand.

Beings of myth and legend, born from infernos and into which scorching desert winds are breathed into their lungs. Although liquid gold runs in their blood, angels lack the mere beating of the heart.

An eternity is a long time to be dead and alive at the same time. Your body is as cold as your corpse when they buried you, and your face is set in the deathlike pallor of when you closed your eyes for the last time. But life in paradise is great, it's just like how they describe it; every pleasure and desire in the palm of your hands, albeit for a tiny fee:
Unlike departed humans, you can't love.

Dantalion was just one of God's many other creations.
His hair was spun from the light of the universe, like all other angels.
His eyes were gold, like all other angels.
He was made perfect, like all other angels.

One evening, he chances upon someone, wings as black as the twilight sky and hair like flowing ink.
He's captivated.
And for a moment, just a millisecond, he feels his heart pulse.

Witness the fall of an angel and their descent into the forbidden, caressed carefully by the whispers of the dusk. One of legend's greatest fables and enigmas, as it's never been told before.



We walked inside, hand in hand. The receptionist greeted us with a smile. He said, " Good evening to this beautiful couple, how wonderful you look together." 

Harry took the pen and signed the logs, replying to him, "Why thank you, it's our first time together." 

"Good luck, Mister-" He took the log and looked at the name. The receptionist gasped a little. He continued, "It's an honor to have great people like yourself and Miss Smith in out Hotel, sir. Please make yourself comfortable." 

I walked closer to Harry, leaning onto him. I whispered to him, even though he was a foot taller than me, "You know, you walked me directly into my enemies den?" 

"Huh?" 

"Hôtel de Brillance?" 

"Yes that is the name of the hotel..." 

"It's ran by my rival, well more like my dad's business rival, Mister Borne." 

Mister Borne walked to me, with a fancy glass of Champagne in his hand. I sighed and Harry muttered, "Speak of the devil-" 

Mister Borne interrupted him, saying, "Lillian! What a pleasure to see you here. Oh! And you are here with young Mister Miller. I remember going to school with his father. Fun guy, he was, Charles. Does he still have his horrible temper?" 

"Actually, Harry took me here." I said, trying hard not to poke his eyeballs out. 

"Fancy place for a date, innit?" 

"Yes...very much so." 

His son took him away. I almost lost my cool again. I hated him. He spoke too much. 

A waitress showed us to our table. It was a rooftop. Just one table. It was dimly lit by candles and fairy lights. It was scented. I sniffed the air and whispered, "My favorite scent-" 

"Vanilla," he said. 

Harry pulled a chair and asked me to sit. He went around the table and sat across from me. I smiled at him. He said, "You look so pretty and beautiful today." 

Blood started to rush into my cheeks. 

Harry chuckled softly, touching my cheek. "Did I just make a Smith blush?" 

"Yes, yes you did." I was falling in love with him all over again. "This is perfect..." 

He pouted, saying, "It is my first date with Lillian Smith and you thought that I would make it anything less that perfect?" 

I chuckle, looking at the view from the terrace. It was marvelous. 

"You are weird. We've been on dates before." 

"As friends, might I add." 

"Is this any different?" 

"Oh...no nothing..." He sounded disappointed. 

"I love messing with you, dummy." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes." 

He pointed at the Tower of Duna, which was always decorated with festive lights. 

I exclaimed, "That looks so beautiful. Why did I never see it before from this height. Everything is gorgeous." 

We placed an order for our dinner. 

Harry raised the question I was never ready to answer, "Why did you never agreed to a date prior to this?" 

"I was fourteen, Harry. I was fourteen." 

"Last year?" 

"Homer." 

"You didn't date anyone for two years, I know that." He knew everything about me. 

The waiter walked by and asked, "Any drinks, ma'am? Any drinks sir?" 

"Red wine for me." I responded. 

"Same." Harry says. I have tasted wine before with dad once. It doesn't taste that weird. And anyway, the legal drinking age is 16. 

Moments passed by rapidly. Harry kept trying to talk about my health but I always diverted the topic. We both knew I was not in a good shape physically and especially not mentally. 

"Words can hurt someone more than actions can, you know?" He said, occasionally taking a bite from his food. 

"Yeah...so is poetry! Who is your favorite poet?" 

"Eh...Poe, I guess." 

"Edgar Allen Poe?" 

"Yes, him." 

"Mine is Robert Frost...his poems are beautiful." I distracted him again, I am proud of myself. This date is getting really awkward thanks to my A+ communication skills. 

We started to eat quietly. I took sips from the water more than bites from my sandwich. 

I asked Harry, "Did they forget our wine?" 

The waiter walked to our table and said, "We might think the lady here might be underage." 

"She's 17!" Harry spat in anger. He was a hothead. 

I touched his hand and said, "Calm down, dear. They just need my ID. Nothing wrong in that." 

I showed my ID to him. He chuckled and said, "We were thinking you were 15, sorry for the troubles." 

"I'm pretty sure Mister Borne did this to ruin our time together." I said, finally finishing my meal. 

Harry chuckled at that. I whined, "In my defense, I eat slow!" 

"Hah, right." 

I rolled my eyes at him. I suggested, "Well, both of us are done with our dinner-" 

He took my hand and jerked me onto the ledge. He then sat himself next to me. 

"Anyway, the stars are beautiful, right?" Harry asked. 

"Such beauty of these stars. I think I am in love with these brilliant stars." I have always been the biggest geek of stars and astrology. I could start naming the constellations but I do not want this date to get any weirder. My obsession with poetry is weird as it is. 

"They aren't the only beautiful thing up here." 

Harry was looking at me. There was this different spark in his eyes. No, not a spark. It was almost magical. Oh, they were so big and beautiful. His eyes, dense as the green forests, twinkled in the darkness. 

I broke the awkward eye contact and questioned, "What-What do you mean?" 

"You. You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. You're perfect, Lillian Smith." 

He started to scoot closer to me and I scooted towards him. Our faces were an inch away from each other when the waiter broke our moment, asking, "Cheque?" 

Harry, obviously annoyed, snapped on the poor waiter who was just doing his job, "Leave it on the table!" 

I said, "Split the cheque!" 

The waiter nodded and left us alone. Finally. 

I dropped my head on his shoulders, still looking at the beauty of the very country I am living in. I have never seen Duna this late in the night...especially from this height. It was gorgeous sight to see. No wonder seventy percentage of the economy relies on tourism. Who wouldn't want to visit such a country. 

I stopped to look at the view. I looked at Harry instead. His hair was being blown by the wind. He looked so handsome. 

He kissed my forehead and said, "I think we should leave back to my house before dad suspects anything weird." 

"He would be glad you weren't home, to be honest." 

"Do you have other plans?" 

I unlocked my phone. He looked over my shoulder and commented, "Nice wallpaper." 

It was a selfie of dad and me, from the runaway last year. I chuckled a little. I opened the text from Natasha and showed it to him. 

"Apparently she wants me back home, probably something important." 

"Alright then...The Mansion it is." 

We paid and left the restaurant. Mister Borne raised his glass at me and winked. I gave him an awkward smile and left, furiously. 

We both sat in the cab, in complete silence. I got out of the car in front of the mansion and Harry was right behind me. 

We stood in front of the huge door, hand in hand. I turned towards him. He was leaning down towards me and I was standing on my toes. Our faces were close and our lips interlocked. We were kissing. I pulled away to catch my breath. I chuckled, "Breathe, Harry." 

"Oh...yeah...how can I, when you are so breathtaking?" 

"Oh stop it." 

Both of us turned red as tomatoes. 

I touched the door. It was unlocked. I whispered, "Harry, look." 

He was as shocked as I was. It could be anything. I slipped my hand up my dress and got out my pocket knife. "You took that thing on our date?" 

"Strapped to my thigh, yes." 

"Damn." 

I went in slowly. I tried to turn on the lights. Harry went in through the back. He yelled, "An EMP shot out the generator. I think I can patch this up." 

"Alright," I yelled back. I ran to the drawer where dad kept his revolver. I took it out, loaded the gun and went on my way through the house. I was just going up the stairs when I smelled a horrible odor. 

I flashed the flashlight down and I saw a red thick liquid, oozing from under dad's room's door. I tried to open the door. It was locked. I had no time to pick the lock. I shot the door nob twice and went into the room. Dad was lying right next to the door. I screamed. Harry rushed into the room. 

"Is he breathing?" He asked, looking at the body. I tried to talk but I had no words.

"Life is hell, Lillian, but you're it's bitch." 

Lillian Victoria Petit-Smith had her life in control till she joined a university of her dreams. As soon as she stepped into her first lecture, her life has been a roller coaster of ups and downs, of pains and sorrows. She thinks she has found the one..the one who will love her forever but is that true? Did she find her true love...or not

See how Lillian encounters these problems and how she handles them. Does she give up on life? Does she keep fighting? or does she turns into a walking vessel?

Xi Wan looked at Li Zhan, who was still calm and composed. There were only three words in her mind: This is too much!
In the end, she spent a lot of effort to make a "humiliating" treaty. Then, she took her suitcase and ran to the airport lobby.
Along the way, the cold wind whistled on both sides, but it still could not erase her burning cheeks. There was also a soft touch between her lips that made people feel ashamed and angry. They wished they could hide in a hole.
When Xi Wan entered the airport lobby and adjusted her emotions, she found Zheng Nuo. When the plane soared into the sky, Xi Wan heaved a sigh of relief.
At Qingtian airport in province G, the sun was shining brightly. When Xi Wan and the others got off the plane, they met many crew members. At that time, they were sitting in the bus, chatting and playing cards. When they saw Xi Wan and Zheng nuo coming.. They greeted them in a friendly manner.
Because the transportation to Huangjia village in Huangqiong county was inconvenient, the crew only arranged two buses. One was at 1 p.m. and the other was at 6 p.m.
It was only 12 pm and there was still an hour before the departure time. Xi Wan and Zheng Nuo did not eat on the plane, so the two of them got off the bus to find some food nearby.
After the meal, they saw Zheng Mingri and Xiao Yinzheng on the bus.
Xiao Yinzheng asked Xi wan in a low voice, "who were you talking about on Weibo yesterday? "
"Oh, I was just lamenting. "
Xiao Yinzheng looked at XI WAN for a long time and nodded. He did not ask anything else after that.
Zheng Nuo, who was standing beside Xi Wan, looked confused. He rarely went on Weibo these days, so he did not understand what they were talking about.
Zheng Nuo took out his phone and immediately logged into his Weibo. Then, he clicked into Xi Wan's Weibo and looked at the comments XI WAN had posted. He frowned slightly.
When he refreshed it again, he saw that his cousin had posted a cold Weibo.
Li Yan: Hehe.
Zheng Nuo had a headache.
Could it be that the two of them had some conflict?
The more he thought about it, the more likely it was. It seemed that since the Spring Festival, Xi Wan and Xiao Yan had not had any Weibo interactions. Although the two of them had not blocked each other, but... ...
Zheng Nuo went forward to look for clues about the two of them.
Sure enough, many of Xi Wan's Weibo posts were forwarded, but there was no sign of Xiao Yan. Many of Xiao Yan's Weibo posts were forwarded, but there was no sign of Xi Wan either.
Even a fool would know what was going on.
The two of them must have had a conflict.
But it shouldn't be. Xiao Yan should have liked Xi wan very much. After all, she had introduced her brother to Xi Wan. And Xi Wan had also gotten together with her cousin. There was no reason for her to fall out with her future sister-in-law, right?
The more Zheng Nuo thought about it, the more he felt that something was wrong.
Ming Ri looked at Xi Wan, then turned his head and didn't say anything else.
The car finally started, and the group headed to Huang village again. When Xi Wan returned to the hotel, she received a call from Xiao Cong.
When Xi Wan saw the two words "Xiao Cong, " she knew why he was looking for her.
"Hello, Xiao Cong? "
"Xi Wan, senior brother Gu ye told you about the theme song and the interlude of the movie, right? "
"Yes. "
"Well, that's good. Then he has already sent the two songs to my email. You should have received them too. Then, let's make an appointment to record them. "
"Sure, but I'm still filming. I'll look at my shooting schedule later and discuss it. "
"Okay, sure. Why don't we contact each other online? " "Let's see if we have free time to stack them together. If it doesn't work out, I'll take a leave of absence. Let's do it according to your schedule. ". "speaking of which, I've been shooting police and gangster movies recently, and then I have to go to school to do a graduation project. I have to run to both sides of the film crew and school. I'm like a candle burning at both ends. I'm so anxious. "
Xiao Cong couldn't help but complain. After all, the pressure was too great.
"The thesis project hasn't been completed yet? " It was already April, and he had to defend himself in May. How could he complete the thesis project in less than two months?
"Wasn't 'Tang Dynasty' filmed last year? I'll put the thesis project aside. Anyway, our school's thesis project is just a small script with my classmates. My scenes should be completed in ten days. "Oh right, you graduated this year too, right "Have you finished your thesis project "What are you filming? "
Xi Wan nodded. "I finished it last year, but I'm not in the acting department, so I don't need to do a drama. I just need to do a theoretical thesis. "
Xiao Cong:"... you're so good at acting that I forgot that you're a top student in the broadcasting department of a university."
"PFFT, you're so funny. If there's nothing else, I'll go back to work. "
"Okay, I'll talk to you later. "
After hanging up, Xi Wan got on her computer and logged into her email. There were many unread emails in her inbox. The latest one was from Gu ye.
Xi Wan opened it. There were two songs on it.
One was her solo: "White Dew is frost, " and the other was a chorus: "Heart to heart. ".
Xi Wan looked at the lyrics. The original author of "records of the Geisha of the Tang Dynasty" had personally written them. They used a lot of ancient poems and were written beautifully. Although the lyrics of "heart to heart" were also ancient, the ancient poems of "White Dew is frost" had a stronger flavor.
Although Xi Wan had the experience of singing the theme song, she was not a professional singer after all. When she first got the music score, she looked at the notes on it and did not recover for a moment. After looking at it too much, she felt that countless tadpoles were swimming in front of her eyes. Then, she calmed down and began to hum.
The two tunes were both ethereal and far-reaching. Together with her current voice, they unexpectedly had a flavor.
Dong Dong
Xi Wan was humming "White Dew for frost" when her room door was knocked on. She got up and opened the door, only to see Zheng Mingri standing at the door.
Xi Wan was surprised. "What's the matter? "
Zheng Mingri handed a bag of fruit to XI WAN. "The assistant bought too much. Help me eat some. "
"Ah? " Xi Wan took it. "thank you. "
Zheng Mingri nodded and said, "I thought I heard you singing? "
"Uh... "
"You sang pretty well. Although it was stuck, is this your new song? "
Xi Wan blushed. "I just got the song. Yes, it's the theme song of the movie I was in. The director asked me to try it. "
"Oh. " Zheng Mingri nodded. "I didn't expect you to be a non-professional. Not only are you good at acting, but your singing is also good. "
Xi Wan:"..."
There it was again. Xi Wan felt like there was a hidden meaning behind these words. Xi Wan was just being paranoid.
After Zheng Mingri nodded at her and returned to her room, Xi Wan closed the door. She took two steps and looked at the heavy fruits, raisins, strawberries, and cherries in her hands. They were all her favorites.
Xi Wan pursed her lips.
She returned to the Computer Desk and looked at the two music scores on it. Xi Wan did not have any desire to practice singing. She only took out the script and found the scene she was going to act in the next day. She memorized the lines.

REVENGE IN THE ENTERTAINMENT INDUSTRY!
COPYWRITER: In her previous life, she was a grand slam best actress, but she was tortured to death by her best friend. Before she died, she was unwilling to accept it. Fortunately, the heavens were hanging down on her, and she was possessed by a fourth-year media girl. Therefore, with hatred, she started from the bottom step by step, and climbed to the top again. She was proud and outstanding!
About Love: In her previous life, she was moved by Jin Zhu, and she died a miserable death.
In this life, meeting him was both her life and career. He was both her benefactor and her benefactor. She was unmoved and unmoved. She stuck to her original heart. In the end, it made him angry: Jiang Xiwan, do you have a heart or not He thought that he would leave her, but unexpectedly, he doted on her even more. He even racked his brains to create a "human life" ... ...
In the world of mortals, it was a touch of brilliance. Believe it, it was there. If you don't believe it, it was also there.
Group number: 486914513. Welcome to the group to play.

III. Maya's Favor for Secrecy 

In weekdays inside the house, it felt like I have all the time in the world during 8 o'clock until 12. But of course, it was an exaggeration; for me, it just felt like it. In abstract sense, time feels forever — like an extended period beyond numbers — whenever I find myself alone in our abode. Hypothetically, I believe I could commit serious crimes (be it robbery, identify theft, or murder), without bothering to worry about anyone sniffing my back. That is, in specificity, what I meant by having all the time in world. Since during those hours, exactly four, I was all by myself with my wandering thoughts— thinking of the things I could do, but would never really do. 

Yesterday was Thursday, so the day today remained a weekday. Friday. 

Considering my age, in addition of my three-year old retirement, personally I didn't have to worry much about commitments. My obligations had short-lengthened; the people I often communicated with before had decreased into almost zero, and for this reason I got plenty of time pondering the past, my old memories. I was at the point where, dutifully and financially speaking, I could slack off and I wouldn't miss a thing. Retired. 

Why was I alone? Why, of course it was a weekday, and during weekday mornings I usually am. Simply because, first of all, my wife and daughter themselves had tasks to do in the community. Unlike me, who kind of let go of most obligations already involving jobs, clients, strangers and acquaintances, my family had a pattern to follow. 

Kiki, as an elementary student, had to attend school. My daughter was at the point of her life where she explores the elements found and seen on the social aspect. She had to meet new people her age. Know them. Befriend them even, and make memories with them that'd be reminisced in the future. At school, academically, Kiki had been told by her mother to participate in class recitations; to answer correctly the questions on quizzes, on exams; to take down notes the chalk-written words from the blackboard; and later — after everything — to meet me in the school's gateway so I could pick her up, and return her home. 

On the other hand, my wife, Annalise, as an architect under a well-known firm, had to take bus and jeepney and tricycle towards her job. Comparing to Kiki, Annalise was at the point of her life where she already realized the functions of the social— how to ethically act around people; how to be reasonable with them alike. Perhaps because of her busyness at most times, I think she was trying to figure out where she belonged To generativity, or to stagnation? Serving as Senior Architect, it's given she had to communicate with her co-workers, her boss, her inferiors, and their clients altogether. In spite of all the effort, of the labor she puts in for the quality of the firm, afterwork she'd commute back home with a take-out meal for us to consume. Meaning, at the end of the day we remained a family — always a complete one — eating at the dining table together, with our morning and afternoon stories. 

So far, those were our daily routines. As a family of three. 

I, however, had the most alone time among the three. Unlike years ago when I was still an employee, a manager, what I do now every morning don't actually stay the same. I could be watching the television for four hours straight on Mondays, and take an unbent shower on Tuesdays and Fridays. Yes, sometimes I'd just watch shows until it's time to pick my daughter from school at 12:30 o'clock. Other times, I'd read whatever books or magazines I could find in the bookshelf. And other, other times I'd feel so creative I could write something personal, or something mind-blowing on a piece of paper. 

For instance, this Friday I wrote an indigenous type of Filipino poem called tanaga. I began working on it at 9:30 in the morning, and later finished the piece by 11 PM. No need to mention it took me longer to finish than expected. 

As a matter of fact, at first I couldn't think of anything to write about. I knew I had to write, I just didn't know what subject should I emphasize. My mind was blank. Worse than blank and empty, my mind was in decline. Despite the fact that I was on my favorite spot — sitting on the moving chair, on the balcony — I couldn't write. For half an hour I felt wordless and incapable of writing a single passage with meaning. It was that hard and bleeding. Perhaps, if I'd exclude the sun's heat haze, the beauty of nature in front of me might be the main cause of this distraction: the numerous moving clouds, the little waves crashing on the far seashore's edges, and the lenient wind passing by my face. All distracting, but at the same time calming. 

It was hard to write. 

Even so, at 11 o'clock, here went my piece of tanaga: 



Liwanag
'Sang ilaw na kay hirap
Limutin't usisain—
Sa aking bawat padyak,
Siya ang tanging mithiin.



Once finished I read it over, and over again. Though I myself admitted that I'm not a good poet, I believe this poem is something value-embedded. True enough, sometimes I'd just scribble words on a notebook or any paper I could find laying here. I could write thousands of words, fill hundreds of pages, create tens of short stories, and still disregard myself as a good writer. In practice, I'm not as witty as William Shakespeare; especially, not as psychologically in-depth as Fyodor Dostoevsky. Moreover, I'm not a great poet as Robert Frost who wrote one of my favorite poems, The Road Not Taken. But nevertheless, whether a writer considers himself outstanding or awfully inferior, as a whole, personally, writing is one of the best ways to open up your heart and keep the time passing. 

Today, somehow, I found my short piece of poem in between downcast and euphoric. 

To anyone, perhaps to most people, who would gain a chance to read my poem, they might see this piece of tanaga as average. Nothing but a standard Filipino poem following a certain requirement: seven syllabic rhymes, all packed in four lines, and nothing new to it. 

But be that as it may, whatever people would think of this can't change the fact of how it affected my sentiment and sensibility. That as I read it again, and again, to me it seemed like I found something accidental yet worth the search in the abyss of my existence— something hiding deeply inside me, buried dozens of meters deep in the ground. Almost forgotten. 

By then it came to surface, of which this poem I wrote is bag and baggage about a certain friend. My old, lady friend whom I had been thinking about, in truth, for a couple of weeks straight at present. Been kind of a long time since I told my daughter the Midnight Carnival story; been weeks since I promised to buy her a new video game cartridge, that one afternoon, in exchange for her ears and attention. 

Ever since that day, Maya never left my thoughts for a moment long-interval. In my everyday life, in my aloneness, she stood appearing as a spirit walking in the depths of my longing. She remained here within the hardness of my skull, that even in dreams I sometimes I see her and re-experience a bygone time. Probably, twice in a single week. 

All in all. 

Notwithstanding, tomorrow I'd finally fulfill my promise to my daughter. And it took long, I know, only well because after a month or two, the three of us agreed again to go to the supermall, as a family. Wherein fact I seemed not to recall our last hangout there, so there lingered a feeling in ourselves that we had to create new memories. Thankfully, yesterday night we decided to plan eating at my wife's favorite restaurant once more. To walk, to shop, and to hangout in the supermall— ultimately, to buy Kiki a new cartridge in the Game Station. 

Tomorrow, only even for a little while, we'd have the time to run away from our daily lives. Saturday. Just the three of us. 

Returning to the present, as I waited for the clock to hit 12 PM, I spent my remaining half-an-hour by looking at the heavenly sceneries ahead. I watched the clouds, the little waves, the flocks of birds soaring through air. I watched everything I could see. 

However, I noticed the view from the moving chair didn't give me enough contentment. I felt the need for more. And so, to satisfy myself, I had to make my sight of the landscape even wider. I stood from the chair where I usually sat — leaving the notebook containing my piece of poem there — and stepped forward to the balcony's line of edge. I decided to place my elbows on the wooden material, the linear barrier. I raised my chin, I placed vision a little higher, as both of my eyes focused on what the nature could offer. Of what it could present to me as for the moment. 

———

It is what it is.
Literary. Magic Realism.

Professor Xavier sighed and watched Robert walk off into the woods surrounding the mansion. He looked towards Emma who was longing to go after Robert. 

"Ms. Frost would you be so kind as to remove Mr. Marko's helmet." Xavier asked. Emma nodded and quickly went to work trying to remove his helmet and was soon joined by a recovered Logan. 

After removing the helmet, Emma gasped in horror and Logan narrowed his eyes. "Frost take Ororo inside and stay with her." Logan ordered her. Not sensing her moving, he shoved her away blocking her view from the fallen body. 

"Go. Now." Logan growled out. 

Emma quickly moved and took Storm inside to an empty room. Professor Xavier wheeled up next to Logan overlooking his half-brothers body. 

Getting a clearer picture, Xavier saw the damage Robert did to the Juggernaut. Cain's face had swollen up and turned purple with blood shot eyes and bits of frost around his head. 

Xavier shuddered with fear at what would have happened if Emma hadn't brought back Robert. 

"He dead?" Logan asked. 

"...No," Professor Xavier said carefully, "I am sensing faint brain activity. Cain's mutation made him nigh unkillable, but this..." Xavier looked at his half brother's condition with some concern, "This injury will take some time to heal." 

"Kid gave him a literal brain freeze." Logan pointed out. 

"I believe young Robert was doing it subconsciously." Xavier tried to reason. "I know he has a good heart, but his mind is split." 

"I'll keep a closer eye." Logan offered. "I'll try to keep him busy and whatnot." 

Logan sniffed the air and looked towards the distance. "Tell them to come pick up this trash." Logan said and walked away. 

Xavier sighed and held a hand to his head, sending a telepathic message to those just outside his mansion's property. 

Moments later two black vans and an armored truck came along with a squad of black outfitted soldiers, all of whom had the same logo of an eagle on the vehicle or person. 

Soon the squad of agents started to load the unconscious body of Cain Marko onto a heavily protected truck, while an average looking man who was wearing a formal suit walked towards Xavier. 

"Professor Charles Xavier, my name is Agent Coulson." Agent Coulson greeted. 

"Yes, greetings Phil." Agent Coulson shifted uncomfortably after the usage of his first name, but carried on. 

"Yes, well we will be taking Cain Marko off of your hands. And we would like to express our thanks in capturing him." Professor Xavier smiled and received the thanks, returning a similar gesture. 

After loading the Juggernaut's body, Agent Coulson said his goodbyes and quickly left with his retrieval team.

---------------- 
In the woods... 

I held my head as I walked slowly through the woods next to the X-Men Mansion. Blurry images of red eyes and faint demonic laughter rang in my head. 

As the laughter kept getting louder and louder, I gripped my head in pain, forcing me down to my knees and pushing my head into the hard dirt. 

"AHHHHH!!!!" I screamed.

"GET OUT....OF MY....HEAD!!" I let lose a burst of power, completely freezing everything around me in a 20 foot radius. 

After the outburst everything became quiet. I let out a sigh of relief and sit back on a frozen tree, basking in the silence. 

"Hello Robert..." My eyes flew open as I quickly got up and turned into my ice form, coming face to face with....me? 

The other figure in front of me was completely different, he had blue skin with tribal marks on his face and nearly naked body. His bright red eyes locked with my icy blue. And his feral grin opposing my worrying frown. 

"Who are you?" I asked. 

His smile grew wider at my question, "I am YOU." 

My eyes narrowed and I completely relaxed, dropping out of my ice form returning to my caucasian skin. "A hallucination...great." I whooped sarcastically. 

My hallucination stepped forward and knocked the wind out of me with a powerful punch to the gut, sending me flying onto a frozen tree 10 feet away. "Did that feel like a hallucination to you?" He asked snidely. 

"W-what are you?" I croaked out, sitting on ground and holding my stomach. 

He walked forward with confidence and crouched down to meet me at eye level. "I already told you didn't I? I am YOU." 

He waited for me to process the situation, "An Ice Clone?" I asked myself. 

"BINGO!" My clone snapped his fingers and jumped into the air celebrating. "Arghh!!! Man did you feel that rush of excitement while fighting that guy!" He shouted excitedly. 

"Wait." I said still trying to process this situation. "How are you...like...sentient?" I asked carefully. 

He stopped celebrating and looked at me with hunger, "During our little outburst of power..." gesturing towards the ice field, "You, specifically, conveyed the emotion and intent of getting me out. Which our powers responded to, creating our first Ice Clone...ME!" he said excitedly. 

I watched as my fully realized Ice Clone was talking animatedly and muttering odd things from time to time, I sit back to just let the whole situation sink in once again. 'What the hell?' 

"So, let me get this straight...you are me?" He nodded, "But just another part of my mind and personality?" My Ice Clone created a thumbs up with ice to confirm my theory. 

I sighed deeply, already done with this messed up Marvel Universe. "Alrighty then, how are you?" I asked kindly. 

"Bro, I am great!" He replied excitedly, "I'm on a huge high after we killed the Juggernaut. And-" 

"Whoa back up!" I cut him off, "We didn't kill anybody. Only suffocated him a little." I reminded myself. 

My Ice Clone stopped jumping around and focused on me intensely, "We froze his brain." He corrected me. "Learning all of that knowledge from Doctor K helped us win. And, more importantly, helped us kill." 

He began to lower himself to meet with me eye level. Speaking in a low, deep and slightly demonic voice, "I'm hungry Robb...and Marko was just an appetizer." His body started to emit frosty smoke as his eyes glowed crimson, "And guess what I'm....INSATIABLE!" 

My eyes narrowed and my body started to emit a similar frosty smoke, "No. We are not killing anyone." I said assertively standing up. 

"I don't understand this side of us." He stood back up, "What is your motivation to becoming a hero? You want fame? Money? Women?" He listed out. 

I lowered my head in thought while my Clone kept going. "We have the power to change the world Robb. The power to do anything. Yet, you want to save people? People who discriminate others because they are different from them? People who kill and start wars on greed and stupidity? F*ck everyone! F*ck canon. Let's lookout for ourselves, watch each others back's. What do you say?" He finished holding out a hand to me.

I looked up sharply and my eyes hardened, "No. I want to save the idiots, the liars, and the greedy." I admitted to myself, "Because among those people there are the hurt, the unique, and the lonely. I want to give them a chance...like someone did for us in our past life." I spoke my resolve, "So, no to the killing and no to the rouge life. We are going to be hero's." My Clone had an astonished expression on his face and then relaxed. 

"Don't worry 'we' aren't doing anything together anymore." My clone smiled wide and spread his arms out, "Cause 'I' am FREE baby!" 

"Yea, no." I rejected him and grab his shoulder trying to re-absorb him back into my body. My Ice Clone noticed my intention and threw a left cross connecting his icy fist onto my face. 

Getting caught off guard I get knocked down onto the ground and bounce a couple of meters away. But I was able to complete my Ice Form before hitting the ground reducing the damage. 

Quickly getting back up I look up in surprise. "What the hell man!"  

"I'm not going back!" He said angrily, "I'm just gonna get locked away and tossed at the back of your mind, forgotten forever!" 

We clashed, trading blow for blow, connecting fist with fist. Almost like we were the same person. I jumped back and launched myself with an ice pillar, while my clone does the same. Both right arms cocked back, we collided, fists connecting to each other's face. 

Getting back up we continued our stalemate of a fight, but somehow my Clone was getting the upper hand, hitting harder and recovering faster. 

'Damn!' I cursed internally, 'What is this guy?' I stopped for a second to analyze his body and found that his appearance looks familiar. 

Taking my distracted gaze as a chance, my Clone jumps on me and holds me down. "Hehehehe!" He laughed in my face as I struggled to break his hold. "Looks like I'm the stronger one 'Iceman'." He mocked me. 

Grunting with all my effort to get out, I couldn't break through his superhuman strength. "Who should I kill first, hmm?" He asked me rhetorically, "Maybe Professor Wheels or Doctor K?" He said making suggestions. 

"You can't hurt them." I threatened him, "Emma and Xavier are telepaths. They can control you." 

My Ice Clone looked at me like an idiot, "Are you an idiot? I'm a CLONE made of ICE." He pointed out. "They can't control ice, only we can." My brain nearly exploded at how amazingly correct he was, 'Damn he's good.' 

My clone had a thoughtful expression on his face and smirked lecherously, "Maybe I could start with Emma." My eyes flashed with anger, "Ravishing her sexy little body, her creamy white skin and baby blue eyes. I'll make her beg for mercy as I tak-" 

*Ice Shattering Noise* 

His disgusting monologue was cut off by his head exploding unexpectedly. Beneath his frozen headless body was me, with my mouth wide open after letting out a roar of ice shards shattering his frozen skull.

"Idiot." I muttered. Throwing off his body releasing a huge sigh of relief and let my battered body heal while laying on the frozen ground.

Reincarnated in the Marvel Universe, within the Spider fanfiction, loved that fanfiction

Its a fanfiction of a fanfiction while I read about fanfiction.

Just for fun, Might write more If i get into it.

Title: Ice & Fun: Love & Fear
Alternate Titles: [Ice and Frost] [Spirit and Guardian]
Genre: Romance
Volumes: 5
Chapters: 80+

---

So this is the story that I have been working on for the past two months. I have classes that require my immediate attention so this had been delay for far too long. I have been researching the three movies; Frozen, Frozen II, and Rise of the Guardians. I didn't watch Frozen Fever because as I said, I don't have much time.

I have already finished outlining the whole story and plot development and I am satisfied with the final results. There were a few errors and I can't access the Art of Frozen which I heard contains a lot of information about Frozen.

I have tried my best on searching for how to describe the clothes worn in frozen, but so far, there's no success on that part. So expect that there won't be much description of the clothes they wear. And also the buildings, as I have almost zero knowledge of Norwegian Culture and I am not going to cut more of my time to learn it.  And I am not going to keep this idea in my mind as it is really affecting my studies, so the faster I get rid of this, the better.

So the reason why I decided to publish a chapter and reveal this is because I have questions to ask. I have some ideas that I don't know if I should include, but deciding it by myself will be useless. So here they are.

[1] Do you want me to include the singing part of the movie?
A - Yes
B - No

[2] Do you want me to include original songs I'll write for the story?
A - Yes
B - No
Note: If I ever tried including this, I will not be singing it. I'll only be using instrumental music of pre-existing songs. The only original ones will only be the lyrics. I really like making poems so this will be a challenge to me.

[3] Post the Chapters even before I complete writing the whole story.
A - Half of the Goal Chapters (10 chapters first then two chapters a day)
B - A Quarter of the Goal Chapters (5 chapters first then one chapter a day)
C - Completed Writing the Goal Chapters (20 chapters first then three chapters a day
D - Every Finished Chapter (Updates will be unpredictable)

[4] After I finish writing this story, Do you want me to write another story for Frozen II?
A - Yes
B - No

NOTE: I WILL READ YOU RESPONSES AFTER A WEEK, GOT A WEEK LONG TEST SO, CIAO~

So as everyone can see on the tags. This will be a crossover of Rise of the Guardians (Jack and another character) and Frozen (World Setting). I will not put any synopsis in the meantime to avoid spoilers. This story is still a work in progress. That's right, this will only be a story and not a long novel. For more details about the story, please read the [INFO].

complete poems of robert frost novel

Kingdoms' Poets [Complete]

Ice the Frost Nightmare

A Seal Upon Your Heart

The Social Experiment

Whispers of The Dusk

The Rollercoaster of Words

The number one best actress in her new life

Lacking Fragments: A Novel

Winter is Coming (Marvel)

Ice and Fun: Love and Fear

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