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hermannsthumb · 4 years ago

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Wrote it a year ago!! How efficient lol Did you already do 79?

Anonymous said: Have you done 79 about the ex gift finally being done?

79. we broke up almost three years ago but you message me out of the blue saying that my gift is finally done and you… you built me a house? [or choose your own gift!]

from winter writing prompts here

almost new year’s! i imagine this takes place somewhere in the pre-2025 PR timeline, not using pen pal canon, for extra awkwardness

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“You what?” Hermann says.

On the other end of the holographic computer display, Newton laughs sheepishly and ducks his head. The picture is a bit rubbish—Shatterdome tech is outdated across every base, it would appear—but even the graininess and ghostly blue tint to Newton’s skin can’t conceal his blush. “I said I finished your present,” he repeats. “The one I promised you—shit. Two years ago? Three?”

“Three,” Hermann says, automatically. It’s not because he remembers any sort of gift ever being promised, but because three years ago is the last possible time he could ever imagine Newton gifting him something. They were still on good terms, three years ago; they were beyond good terms three years ago. He and Newton still—well. Er. “Though I don’t recall you ever mentioning a gift.”

“Of course I wouldn’t have, dummy,” Newton says. “That would’ve ruined the surprise.” He fixes his glasses. “My tracking number says it was delivered today. Did you get it?”

A stack of mail was indeed dropped off at Hermann’s laboratory today, shortly after lunch, though Hermann has not yet had the time to poke through it. He squints across his desk at it now: there is a larger box at the bottom of the stack, larger than anything he had been expecting, which can only be Newton’s present. Hermann slides it towards himself with the handle of his cane. Newt Geiszler, in the corner, with the return address of his laboratory in his Shatterdome. “Can you open it on camera?” Newton says. “I want to make sure it—well, you’ll see.”

Hermann tears open the tape seal with the nib of a dried-up pen, and pulls out an absurd amount of tissue paper before finding…a sweater. “Ah,” Hermann says. He unfolds it. It’s nothing too terrible, like Hermann had (frankly) been expecting a sweater from Newton to be. A nice shade of brown, a nice thick wool, a bit simple and shapeless, but comfortable-looking nonetheless. He can’t imagine how Newton took three years to give it to him. “…Thank you, Newton?” Hermann says. “How…thoughtful.”

“You don’t remember, do you?” Newton says with a grin.

Hermann shakes his head.

“It was ages ago,” Newton says. “We went out to that taco place for dinner, and I knocked your wine all over your sweater by accident, and you got super pissed, and I was like, dude, it’s just a sweater, I’ll buy you a new one, and then you—”

“Oh, God, I remember,” Hermann groans. It’d been towards the end of their, er, relationship, and every little thing about Newton had started to set Hermann off: Newton’s humming in the lab, Newton’s jokes, Newton’s clothing, Newton’s smile, even (a thought which made Hermann feel horrendously wretched), Newton’s insistence on Hermann getting a proper sleep, Newton’s coffee runs and lunch runs and fixing Hermann breakfast every morning… The wine spill had been one of the final straws, and one to which he—admittedly—far overreacted. Hermann could simply not see a way in which it wasn’t intentional, in which Newton did not do it deliberately and maliciously, and the row they’d had over their bloody burrito bowls and Hermann’s merlot pool had been one of their finest. I’ll buy you a new one, Newton had said, and Hermann had shouted back about that not being the point—how Newton could knit one and it still wouldn’t be the point—and called a cab to take him home. Separately from Newton.

Newton was knocking on the door to his bunk an hour later, eyes fixed on his shoes as he mumbled out another apology, and he’d looked so pitiful, and Hermann felt so guilty over leaving him with the bill that he had sighed out one of his own. They didn’t touch in bed that night, not even an accidental bumping of shoulders. In the morning Newton did not fetch Hermann coffee. They ended the whole thing two weeks later, and Newton was transferred to another Shatterdome by his own request not even a month after that.

And now, here he is, Skyping with Hermann. This is not a new development in their working relationship—each of them does, after all, gather information that could be crucial to the other party, and they’ve occasionally had to ring each other up for a virtual discussion that typically ends in bickering—but it is the first time they’re doing it outside typical laboratory hours. And it is the first time one of them has dared to bring up…certain events. Usually, they just skirt around the fact they dated for two years like their lives depend on it.

“Thought you might,” Newton says, with another uncomfortable laugh. “Anyway, I know you said it wasn’t the point, but, I started teaching myself knitting a few days after that, because I really wanted to replace yours, and I’ve been super busy, so I kinda just finished a couple weeks ago.” He shrugs. “You can throw it out. I don’t really care.”

A closer examination of the sweater confirms the story. It’s far too lumpy to be anything but homemade, and the stiches fluctuate in dexterity and neatness throughout the whole thing, though grow better overall the further up from the hemline they are. It is indeed a similar shade of brown to Hermann’s ruined one. Hermann feels an odd lump start to swell in his throat. “Oh,” he says. He brushes his fingers over the hem; when Newton made those stitches, Hermann realizes, he still thought he would be gifting the sweater to Hermann as his boyfriend. “It’s—a very lovely gift, Newton. Thank you.”

“Try it on!” Newton urges.

Hermann obliges, though he flushes when he realizes it will require him to divest himself of his blazer and sweatervest in front of Newton. Newton’s sweater is a perfect fit, of course. Better yet, it’s comfortable. “Thank you,” Hermann repeats.

Hermann has always felt no small amount of shame over the breakup. It wasn’t really because of Newton’s humming, or his clothing, or anything quite so shallow, after all; it was because Newton was too damn affectionate. Loving. He loved Hermann so unabashedly and unashamedly, and Hermann—who has never been unabashed or unashamed in anything in his life—simply did not know how to handle it. It scared him. His feelings for Newton scared him, too, so he did the logical, Gottliebian thing and repressed them. The worst of it all was that Newton understood why.

Now, though—now his feelings, which he’d ignored for so long, threaten to bubble over. Of course he still loves Newton. It was foolish of him to pretend otherwise. “Newton,” he begins.

But Newton doesn’t hear him. “I was thinking about transferring back to Hong Kong,” he says. He fiddles with his glasses again, one of his nervous tics. “I don’t really have a team to lead anymore here—everyone’s been fired, or quit, or…well. I was thinking I’d probably be more useful back there with you.”

“With me?” Hermann says.

“I submitted a request, anyway,” Newton says.

Hermann wants Newton back here with him.

“There’s not much laboratory space, in case you’ve forgotten,” Hermann warns him. “We’ll have to share again.”

“Eh, I don’t really mind,” Newton says. Sirens suddenly begin going off on his end, and he winces. “Shit, that’s loud. We’ve been having kaiju drills all week, it’s driving me fucking insane. I gotta go, dude, talk to you later.”

He waves as he flickers out. Hermann’s holographic display clicks off with a small whir. “Goodbye,” Hermann murmurs.

He goes to sleep that night wearing the sweater, and hoping—foolishly, and perhaps selfishly, for he’s sure Newton’s work has been invaluable across the Shatterdomes he’s bounced between—that Newton’s transfer request is approved.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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shadowdianne · 4 years ago

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Since I'm not totally evil and now that I'm back in front of the computer I'm just going to copy-paste the first 1k or so of what I had written. It's not edited and considering the notes I've erased for this version but the original one has I was still working through plotholes and worldbuilding. The coding of the archive suggests that it was an informal prompt made by a friend -the titles of the things that were inbox prompts were codes for me to know at which bach they were linked to but this one has only the one I reserved for mutuals or friends so I could properly tag them even if the prompt had been sent via, dunno, whatsapp or the like but I have lost the word document I had to know which number represented which mutual so, dunno, friend, if you happen to see this hi xD

Anyway, I'm not going to finish it but if anyone wants to know the original lines of the prompt (looking at you, @yaminoendo, @italymystery-swanqueen ) things were like this:

If anyone recognizes this as something I finally got to publish -dunno, I truly cannot remember if I did but considering that it's not finished if I did it was under some other storyline- tell me so I can try to find the damn link and make another post about it.

Word reached the town’s inn in a slow night, the kind of nights Emma had learnt to dread as much as the ones in where she was unable to have a respite. And so, as rain poured outside and only a selected few patrons battled against the storm that flagged the lands around the wood and stone made houses in order to get a drink from Granny’s, she found herself rising her eyebrows as one of the Lost boys nodded vehemently, fingerless gloves doing nothing to prevent the boy from almost sticking his hands into the dim fireplace the old woman had asked both Ruby and Emma to keep an eye on.

“To keep the sorceress at bay. One never knows with this storm.”

Emma had bitten her tongue at the words: she knew magic was real; had seen the occasional wizard, the kind of one that traveled from town to town, promising magic and dreams to whomever that paid them in silver or a place to stay but Granny’s sorceress; the ones that roamed the forest at night, the ones who vowed to the moon and soil, were just the stories one would tell to children. Children barely younger than the one who, still shivering, put his hands beneath his armpits, rolling his shoulders as the soaked coat he wore, the one with Pan’s colors, remained stuck to his scrawny frame.

“She gave us a piece of gold each.” The boy repeated for the umpteenth time ever since he had come barreling into the inn, soaked to the bone but sporting a toothy grin. “She told us to spread the word. I’m not joking!”

Emma sighed and offered the boy one of the few sips of wine that they still had from the merchants that had passed by the month before last. Despite it being acrid the boy took the small vase and drank it all, smiling at her with his eyebrows raised, some color returning to his cheeks. She was about to offer him some bread when the owner of the inn herself tutted at him, eyes severe.

“Hasn’t the woman already suffered enough? It’s not nice to lie, Nibs.”

The boy opened his mouth, ready to defend himself if the sudden rage on his eyes was anything to go by and Emma sighed inwardly at the moment as she casted a glance around the inn, at the ones who were not-so-subtly listening to the conversation. Sometimes, times like this, she truly felt tired of the gossip-hungry citizens. Always trying to learn about the next detail, the next piece of information they could all later on share, make bets on. The scent of dampened wood and greasy food grounding her as she found Ruby’s eyes at the other end of the place, she shrugged minutedly, asking for the lanky brunette’s friend. Not like she wasn’t able to tackle the woman’s grandmother but Granny had been, and would always be, the kind of person one didn’t want to get on the bade side of.

And she was truly grateful the woman had let her in after last years’ flood.

Ruby bit down on her bottom lip and tilted her head to the right as she placed yet another pint in front of Leroy. The short man was probably the only one who wasn’t pretending to not be listening to the conversation, his glazed eyes trained on both Granny and Nibs and Emma almost smiled a little at that. Placing her hands on the counter, letting the three-quarter sleeves of the cloth she wore rile up on her forearms, she leveled her gaze with Nibs, silently asking him to just let the subject drop.

The boy, however, was still a boy, and he didn’t listen; his pride affronted.

“I’m not lying!” He replied, shaking his head while doing so. “Widow Mills told us that if anyone was able to open the door with the key she would…” He halted there, cheeks reddening and Emma heard Ruby bit back a laugh as the brunette approached the front of the tavern. The Lost Boys were a group of orphans that no one had taken in aside from the small group of women that worked relentlessly under Blue’s orders but they weren’t shy to sex or how it worked. It was interesting seeing Nibs so tong-tied in front of Eugenia, angry or not.

“… marry them.” The boy finished, lamely, but Emma, just as she had had at first, didn’t catch any lies on his words. Despite them being, probably, slightly edited.

And that, despite her best intentions, made her feel interested. Which was something she was purposedly trying not to be.

Widow Mills was the kind of woman that brought attention wherever she went: not new to the town her wealth, her house, close to the end of the town, bigger than any other else and always guarded by a big black cat, helped on cultivating an air of mystery around her. The kind of one that would usually make many spit behind her, muttering words they thought would protect them after she waved and kept on with her day.

And yet, despite that, she was also the woman many thought on trying to get her to remarry, the news of her late husband known and shared within the same walls Emma was currently surrounded by. It was strange, interesting, how the woman seemed to have finally decided to play the game Storybrooke citizens were so adept at; get others to marry. If what Nib was saying was true.

And Emma had the feeling that it was. As shocking as it could sound.

“I guess it’s cat-hunting season then. Isn’t that right, sis?” Leroy’s crude smirk made Emma clench her jaw and say nothing, even when the town’s drunkard eyed her, hoping for someone to reply to his comment but finding very few who seemed open to the idea.

Albeit, the blonde thought as she turned and busied herself, she was fairly certain that within the hour the rest of the Lost Boys would manage to get the entire town known that the brunette woman living at the edge of town was waiting for a husband.

She didn’t exactly knew why that bothered her.

-.-

She had been right, of course, by the next night the town was abuzz with the story from the Lost Boys. The only real socialite the town owned, Kathryn Midas, had even passed by, sharing a few opinions she had on the whole thing. Opinions Emma hadn’t been there to listen to as she had been sent by Granny to run an errand no Lost Boy could tackle quickly enough but ones Ruby had later filled her in as they both readied the tavern for the night.

“Many think she is bluffing.” Ruby shrugged and shook her head as Emma listened to her, using a brief moment of respite to lean against the tavern’s southest wall. The one in where the fireplace rested, the residual heat from it warming the stone slabs of the floor around it and the wooden walls. “A cry for attention.”

“And you think that’s right?”

She tried to sound nonachalant but Ruby narrowed her eyes at her, mirth on her eyes, and Emma knew she had been caught.

It wasn’t, she battled against herself, that she was interested. Not in the same way she suspected others would be. She had barely shared a few words with the woman. It wasn’t like the brunette beauty often came to socialize to the inn.

But she had seen her, walking, buying herbs and other things. Always slightly away from others, the black and red from her clothes obvious as both a statement and a message. She wondered, briefly, while she grazed the mark on her wrist, the one left by broken vows of marriage, if the woman would wear another color next time she saw her. For some reason she couldn’t exactly picture that.

“Want to give it a try, Emma? Is that what this is about?”

Ruby’s voice brought her back from her reverie, the words her friend had just said made Emma narrow her eyes, spine straightening as she walked away from the wall just in time for Eugenia to walk in; stern-looking as ever.

“Don’t be stupid.”

But Ruby didn’t seem convinced. Not like neither of them were able to discuss it further as the old woman frowned at them before putting them both to work, the storm from yesterday already gone and the first round of thirsty villagers about to arrive.

-.-

During the next days many were the ones who arrived to the inn with scratches up their arms; muttering about cats and demons and far too many complicated schemes they couldn’t be bothered to try. Emma remained mute during those tales; silently serving drinks, dodging handsy miners that were the other source of income for the town and pretending she wasn’t entirely far too curious.

And, in a way, that feeling was what made her keep listening to the stories; unwilling to let go the promise of something different in a town she felt drowning her every day it passed.

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leftiswherethedoorisright · 4 years ago

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Reflecting on poor financial choices - HD Remaster

TL;DR: Earning my own wage really didn’t help my pen addiction. My pen collection now totals an amount where I could’ve bought a reasonably nice used car, but where would be the fun in that? However, I only bought some of the pens I’ll mention, all the Montblancs for examples where gifts from relatives who took a liking in that their old pens will be loved and used once again. But I will keep to the chronological order. As spoilered before, I recieved a Meisterstück 149 in platinum trim with my initials engraved into the clip. It’s sexy as fuck, it’s got a gorgeous BB nib which is very smooth, very wet and makes even my scribble look stylish. In short, it’s a brilliant pen, and deserves the name masterpiece. There is loads of information about it out there, I don’t have to reiterate what others can do better. I personally recommend Figboot on Pens’ Review over on YouTube, I like his no nonsense style. Then one of my older relatives came along and gifted me to Meisterstück 144 pens. One a cartridge converter with a satisfying cap click and even tho it is very, very thin and light, it is well balanced and I find it a comfortable writer. It is nice, but wasn’t my highlight by far. My highlight was a 144 with Montblancs old telescoping piston mechanism, a star in beautifully yellowed ebony, a nib that while actually very feedbacky requires no effort to use, is bouncier and softer than your girlfriends tiddies and just a joy to use. It’s still unreal to me that I can call this pen which is borderline 70 years old, my own. The best thing is: It works like a charm, it’s nearly embarassing how well everything still works. Now, two Lamys. I bought a Lamy Persona in black titanium oxide and gold trim because I fell in love with the flush clip. It is a gorgeous pen with a nib that on Tomoe River feels like writing on glass but isn’t very wet. The quadruple start threads ensure that the cap is of in less than a third of a turn, in short: it is a great notetaker, quite the looker with a styling thats as fresh now as it was in 1990, a satisfying posting mechanism for the cap wich reassuringly clicks and doesn’t even backweight the pen that much, but I rarely post pens, quick threads and a nib that is basically designed for craptastic paper. Then I bought a Lamy 27 because one of my trainee teachers showed me an old advertisement for it and I just had to have it. It is lovely, even with a crack in cap, but it writes well, it came in its original box and with its instruction and damn, it’s a good pen, again, with a very timeless styling, just the basic cigar shape and few trim pieces. Bulletproof piston mechanism too. And then I made a mistake. I reread ukfountainpens review of the S.T. Dupont Line D/Elysee and decided that I needed a bit of french styling and while searching for the Elysee I stumbled upon someone selling ther S.T. Dupont Olympio in Laque de Noir (Or at least he claimed that). The urushi laquer with what appears to gold flakes inside looks stunning, very fitting for late autumn and holy shit, everyone who raved on and on about Duponts superiour cap click: You were right. This pen got me that fucking hooked on Dupont with its looks, hinged clip and glasslike nib (even better than the Persona which it on its own conquered my collection regarding smoothness) that I ordered a Elysee two days later, as I wanted a specific model since I found the version with the diamond dimple much classier than the ones with a laquared shield and damn. Its looks are so stunningly simple yet detailed that my moms boyfriend declared it his favourite pen in my collection while my uncle, who gifted me the 149 declared that in case of my very untimely departure from the mortal plane he would lay claim to both the 149 as we share the same initials and the Elysee as it is as timeless as the Meisterstück, even blacker, arguably more classy and is just stunning. I will borrow this quote from Anthony: “You could call all this boring, but somehow the Line D / Elysee comes off as composed, well executed, classy, versatile. Like a well-made grey suit, you could use the Elysee every day at work, and nobody would ever notice it, but you’d never find it lacking, never tire of its unassuming style.” It is simply gorgeous.The engraving is sharp as a knifes edge, the capping even resonates a bit more than the Olympio, perhaps to better emulate the opening of Duponts iconic lighters and I could go on for days about why this fountain pen has probably set an end to my permanent pen buying as there are very few pens out there which I find as visually appealing or write as good (pains me to say, but for about half the price of a 149 its a better writer. A 149 is still worth every cent to me, as it has a century long heritage, is a pen that basically serves as the template for classic pen design with its cigar shape, has a piston filler and is comfortabe, but while I find it’s nib sexier, it isn’t as smooth. But my true recommendation is: Buy both, they look like to fine gentleman about to offer you otherworldly opportunities next to each other) I will probably buy myself a Lamy 2000 with an EF nib as I am curious about this classic, but for now, I don’t see myself making any additions to my fountain pens. I currently have 15 of my 27 pens inked, three of those are for work (a TWSBI Eco and two Reforms, one for calligraphy as a textmarker) and I want to get at least a few of these pens out of my system as it is very unlikely, that I’ll ever use or be able to use them again.

#fountainpen #review #montblanc #st-dupont #dupont #Lamy

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scribeofmorpheus · 5 years ago

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Mark of the Wolf Part 14

Catch Up Here!

Pairing: Derek Hale x Reader (Lastname: Markolf)

Words: 5k

Warnings: Some gory body horror bits -imo. Violence, another cold open, angst? Butchered Swedish.

A/N: It’s funny, looking back at my series plot outline, I never thought this was the direction I was going to go with this confrontation but... The pen writes what it wants.

Leave a like or reblog if you enjoyed this chapter! It helps ☺

Derek and Peter sat in the front of the car –Peter at the wheel driving at a more dangerous speed than Derek did. Markus sat beside you.

The others had taken other cars.

The car was cold. The air-con turned all the way up for some reason. It seemed you were the only one with goosebumps that refused to smooth over since you were the only one rubbing at your skin. In search of a warmer cardigan, you reached beside you to grab your duffle bag, but then you remembered you didn't have it. It was with Scott.

Damn!

You should have dressed warmer.

A dial tone sounded from Derek's phone. This was the third time he'd tried the same number. His brow was scrunched in annoyance as he tapped re-dial for the fourth time.

Your head was pressed to the cold glass of the window, the trees whooshing past to form one collective reel of green and brown as your nails dug into the bandage wrapped around your palm. An itch you couldn’t get at annoying your newly formed cut.

"She's not going to answer," Peter said, eyes focused on the road. "Besides, our plan isn't contingent on her being a key player."

"We need the back-up in case things go south," Derek said. "She's the only one powerful enough to take one of those hunters head-on if we need a quick exit."

"I cannot wait to say 'I told you so' when this inevitably blows up in your face," Peter snorted.

"If that happens we'll all be screwed to high hell," Derek said bleakly. “Which means, you’ll be going down with me, smart-ass.”

Peter rubbed his nose, a redness forming just above his lip. He exhaled loudly.

Once the ringing stopped, an unclear voice sounded out through Derek’s phone's speakers. He placed the phone to his ear.

"I need to cash in a favour," his tone was indifferent.

There was a beat of silence, thick and disturbing.

Peter shuffled awkwardly, stretching against the uncomfortable seat material and forward slanted head rest.

"She's not gonna show," Peter sing-songed.

You laced your fingers around your pendant, wringing it about from left to right like a pendulum. A spot on your chest marked by sage oil.

Derek hummed before cutting the phone, it sounded contemplative rather than disappointed. He turned to Peter, "I guess we're just going to have to hope everything goes as planned then."

The car was parked on the edge of the treeline to the woods.

Peter groaned, looking down at his expensive shoes and the damp soil outside, "These were new shoes."

"I'll buy you a new pair if we live through this and you stop complaining," Derek clapped back as his heavy boots stomped into the mud, splatters of wet soil spraying on his dark jeans.

You and Markus disembarked and for once you were glad you weren't wearing your tennis trainers.

"On the plus side, if we all die, at least it’ll be in style," Markus noted dryly.

Peter shrugged and you rolled your eyes.

"Alright, split up?" Markus asked.

Derek nodded, "Yeah, since we know the lay of the land better, Peter and I will take one of you and we'll work going inward."

"If this place is so important, why hasn't anyone ever mapped out its location?" You asked, hands stuffed in your jeans to keep your body heat close as a cold breeze swept through.

"We tried. The Nematon has a tendency to hide itself," Derek told you.

"Oh..." you said, pretending to understand.

Peter looked around for a minute before speaking over his shoulder, "I'll take tall, dark and broody with me."

Both Markus and Derek pointed at themselves in confusion.

Peter rolled his eyes before pointing at your brother, "The other tall, dark and broody."

You lifted a finger to protest but before a full sound left your throat, Peter had already disappeared into the dark forest with Markus in tow.

You cursed under your breath and from the cheeky smirk Derek wore, you knew you hadn't sworn low enough.

"Come on," Derek's head nudged towards the dense forest. Hands in his back pockets.

"Perfect," you said sarcastically.

You and Derek walked in silence, your hands running up and down your bumpy flesh to burn the cold away.

The woods held an eeriness to them that made the air feel like burning sulphur despite the cold. Fog rolling outward like a dense smoke cloud the farther from the road you got.

You stepped in a mud patch and slid forward. Derek's quick hands caught you and kept you steady.

"You okay?" he looked you in the eye.

You blinked away and cleared your throat, "Yeah, t-thanks."

"You feel cold," he shrugged off his jacket. "Here."

"N-no, I- I'm fine, really," you refused his offer, but Derek ignored your words, draping his jacket around you. It was sweet of him.

"Relax. It won't eat you. It's just a jacket," he smirked.

You nodded while pressing your lips together.

"So… come here often?" you asked as Derek marched forward with long strides -you practically had to jog to keep up.

"To the woods?" he chuckled. "Yeah, this place is a riot," he added dryly.

You scrunched your face and Derek’s arms flexed as he folded them together.

"Actually I grew up close to these woods," there was a sadness to his voice.

You were intrigued, chin rising higher to get a better look at his face, "What's your family like?"

"Dead. Mostly," he noted casually.

Your eyes went wide.

Derek shuffled, feeling that maybe he sounded a bit more serious than normal. He ground his teeth before laughing humourlessly and tried again, this time lighter: "We used to be like your family, actually. Large, overwhelming, very unapologetically different."

"Thanks, I guess…?" you swatted at some fireflies.

Derek shifted his eyes blue and the bugs scattered from predatory fear. He relaxed back to normal and added, "It's a compliment, trust me."

You smiled before asking, "What happened?"

He answered almost immediately, like it as a rehearsed line or one he’d thought about many times, "The girl I was dating turned out to be a hunter… a homicidal one at that."

"Boy, those just follow you everywhere," you jabbed.

He craned a brow your way, "Goes with the territory."

He held your gaze for a moment too long and heat flushed through you, your lips tingling from the memory of his tender yet rough kiss. Your cast your eyes down at your feet.

When you looked back up you noticed Derek rubbed his nose discreetly.

You were compelled to ask him out of curiosity, "You and Peter have been doing that all night. Everything alright?" you pointed to his nose with a red nib.

"You can't smell it?" he was surprised, his eyes fixed on your pendant.

"Is it the sage?"

He hummed in response.

"Sorry," you said with a glib tone, feeling bad for causing everyone so much discomfort.

He cocked a half-smile, "Don't apologise. That is the only reason we're still alive-" he pointed at your pendant. "I can survive a little irritation. Immortal hunters? Not so much."

You stopped for a bit. Mind remembering something that made you laugh dryly. Derek turned to you.

"What?" he asked.

"N-nothing," you held his jacket as your body shook with laughter. "It's just ironic isn't it? The first time I met you, I dug a bullet out of your chest. You were the one in need of saving then. Now look at how everything turned out. I'm the proverbial damsel in distress and it pisses me off!"

It was Derek's turn to laugh, hot air permeating through the cold night in foggy breaths.

"You find that funny?" your jaw squared as you planted your feet and crossed your arms.

"I think it's funny you think you're a damsel," he smiled wider. "Not many damsels I know of have no qualms with cauterising a man's wound using the tip of an arrow and a zippo. And you can damn well be certain they aren’t eagerly offering themselves up as bait. Not once mind you, but twice." He held up two fingers.

"Then I guess I'm an idiot," you remarked flatly.

"Aren't we all?"

Derek placed a hand on your shoulder. Your body reacted as you’d come to expect, with a shiver running up your spine and a flush rising up from your neck to greet your cheeks.

He uttered in a manner reserved for those more than friends -soft and intimate, "Take it from someone who lost their lycanthropy once, claws and teeth and speed doesn't make you powerful. Resolve does. And you've got that in spades."

You gulped, the warm feeling creeping into your chest again. It was strange seeing him so… open. This version of Derek was different from the one you first saw bleeding out on your metal slab.

Derek didn't move. His hand sending ripples of electricity through you from the contact. It didn't help matters that his jacket smelled of his scent and was wrapped around you like you were a couple in an 80's movie.

It all should have felt overbearing, too demanding, but for some reason, it felt the complete opposite. It felt like just enough.

You took a step forward and Derek stayed locked in place. He was determined to keep his promise. If anything were to happen between you two, under the stars and the pregnant silver moon, it would be only by your say so. You held all the cards and from the tantalisingly tempting way your lips tingled, you knew instinctively what your next play would be.

Your brain shouted for you to step away, to keep things from getting complicated, to not risk your heart again, but your lips parted of their own volition and soon you were speaking in a heady tone, "Derek… I…"

His jaw tensed, though it was much subtler. His eyes on the verge of turning blue. An odd aquamarine settled over his irises instead. He was trying his damndest to stay in control. It was then that you noticed how tightly he balled his other fist. The air filled with more trails of fog from his and your breaths. They kept climbing in frequency.

"I…" your feet trembled and then a howl pierced through the sound of crickets, startling you from your daze.

Derek inhaled and let his arm drop free from your shoulder, he brought it to his own and started working the muscle there as if it were sore.

"Peter's calling. Think he's found it. Come on," he shrugged as he walked in broad strokes towards the origin of the howl.

You cursed again and followed after, thankful for the cold air for the first time since the night began. It drained the colour away from your face.

"What took you guys?" Markus asked as he hopped off one foot onto the other in repeated motions.

"They were probably in-dis-posed," Peter wiggled his eyebrows as he strained the syllables of that last word, a devilish smirk pulling his face up.

Derek shook his head and you bit your inner cheek, ignoring the suggestive look Peter had shot your way.

A stone’s throw away was an old stump in the middle of the clearing. The Nematon.

"That's the Nematon?" you asked, a little disappointed.

"Not much to look at, but trust me, that thing is teeming with supernatural energy," Peter said.

Markus squatted close to the tree, placing his hand on its flat surface. His eyes flashed to red and back, nails shifting into claws then back to nails.

"They're right, this is it." He confirmed.

"This thing is barely higher than my knee. Without branches, what are we going to fashion stakes out of?" you raised your hand at the short stump.

Derek and Peter glanced at each other, each thinking the same thing.

In unison, they said: "The root cellar."

The root cellar was dark. The smell of earth was rich here. An old stain of a bloody handprint had turned a coppery orange colour on one of the root tendrils snaking into the ground. A five-fold-knot carved into another. The air was freezing, like the temperature decreased exponentially, forcing your teeth to chatter. A sickening feeling tugging at your gut as your organs protested in every way possible.

"Something bad happened here," you spoke in a hushed whisper.

Derek was stiff, eyes turning glassy as they stared daggers at the five-fold-knot. The atmosphere around him shifted. All of a sudden he was his usual brooding and detached self.

"That is an understatement," Peter replied.

Markus took in the air, coughing slightly. He and Peter scratched at their noses in almost perfect synchronicity. Not Derek though. He stayed painfully still.

"What happened here?" Markus rose his eyebrows.

Peter's mouth opened then closed, a furrow on his face.

"Let's just get what we came for and wait for the call," Derek grumbled out, claws extending instantly as he slashed at a sturdy section of root and pulled it free.

Peter ran a hand through his hair, "You heard the man."

***

You paced about the sparsely furnished loft space that belonged to Derek. There was yellow police tape discarded next to the entrance. A large window with no curtains provided most of the light in the open-plan apartment.

Derek tossed his phone on the counter, a sigh leaving his lips. "That was Scott. It worked. Now it's our turn."

"Do you think they'll make it out okay?" your voice was shaky, worry keeping you on edge.

"We can't worry about that now," Derek walked over and stretched out his hand expectantly.

You swallowed hard, a ball forming in your throat as you tried to unclasp your necklace with shaky fingers.

Derek squeezed your fingers, "Let me."

You spun around, focused on counting the number of bricks on the wall whilst he removed your necklace. His thumb brushed the back of your neck lightly and then he walked away to stash the necklace in a sealed ziplock bag, tossing it in a drawer for extra measure.

"And now?" you said after you had counted all the bricks on that stretch of wall.

"We hope Scott and Liam can take a few hits and stop any stragglers from coming our way while we..." Peter kicked his feet up and lounged on a leather couch, "Wait."

You stared down at the yellow tape, sorely aware of how tense the room was.

You did the one thing you hated doing in such instances, you made with small talk, "So… you still wanted for murder?"

Markus's head snapped up from his phone, nose no longer red. His attention was drawn towards Derek who was leaning against the kitchen island -his nose also no longer red.

"Alleged murder," he held up one hand to reassure your brother. "And, yeah, in four counties actually."

"Have you thought about what you're going to do if we survive this? I mean… you can't live on the run forever, can you?" you pressed your palms together tightly using your knees to keep from anxiously bouncing on your feet as you sat on the opposite couch to Peter’s.

"If we survive, that'll be just one of the many things I'll have to cross off my to-do list," he retorted.

Markus squinted before sitting up straight, hands clapping together once, "That's why you look so familiar. You were on the news some months ago. Manhunt in--"

"Shh!" Peter shot up quickly.

"I hear it too," Derek said hurriedly as he vaulted over the counter and pulled you behind him, stake in hand.

Right then, an arrow pierced through his large window and shattered the glass. The sharp point dug into the wooden floorboard a few inches to the left of where you'd been standing.

Here we go again.

"Okay boys," Peter cracked his neck before extending his fangs. "Once more with feeling!"

All three of them were all glowing eyes, long claws and wolfish snarls. You raced behind the kitchen island and ducked behind it for cover but no new arrows whistled through the air.

Just then, Astrid barrelled in in through the window, her nose raised high as she sniffed at the air, fangs extended. Her claws were longer than all the men's and her eyes glowed a deeper blue than Derek's or Peter's. Come to think of it, Markus was the only one in the room with red eyes.

Astrid clicked her tongue several times, one long-clawed finger swaying from the left to right, "I knew something was afoul when you weren't with the True Alpha and his rageful beta.” She turned to stare daggers at you, “Alyster will be pleased I found you and after I kill all three of your wolves, I'll deliver you to him." Her accent was heavy, Scandinavian. You realised this was the first time you'd heard her speak English.

“It is your time now,” Astrid pointed at you, a grin on her face.

Peter laughed.

Astrid’s eyes twitched, "What is so funny?" she demanded.

"The fact you thought it would be that easy," he replied like he knew the punchline to a joke she didn’t.

Astrid took a step closer, her claws slicing through the air. Peter leaned back with perfect timing.

"Now!" Derek growled.

Theo burst out of a hiding spot holding a jar of black ash and chucked a whole fist full of it at a broken circle on the floor. An impregnable ring forming around them while the other men in the room tried to hold the rabid Astrid down. You dashed back to the drawer Derek had stashed your necklace in and quickly clipped it back on.

"Mountain ash!" Astrid screamed in anger.

Like a volatile typhoon, Astrid took on all three men, her long claws slashing deep and wide. Blood soaked through torn clothes and your ears were deafened by the piercing howls and deep growls that vibrated off larynxes. Markus lifted his stake when he got an opening, but Derek held his hand at bay.

"No!" Derek stated bluntly.

Markus stared in confusion, not about to let one of the people that'd nearly killed his sister survive.

Peter took the brunt of Astrid's attacks while Derek and Markus were forced in a stand-off.

"Get out of my way!" Your brother shouted, twisting his arm free from Derek's hold

"We need her alive!" Derek shouted back, replacing his hold with his other hand. “For now.”

"Can we argue about this later?" Peter spoke through bloody teeth.

"Rahhh!" Astrid shouted as she lodged her claws into Peter's side, a scream ringing out.

You gasped, taking a step forward.

Derek got distracted by the sound for a fraction of a second, but it was all it took for Astrid to sink her claws into his back and lift him up over her head.

"Derek!" you screamed as you rushed forward, body impaired by the force field of blue light that flooded your vision when you collided with the mountain ash barrier.

Derek spat out a splotch of coppery scented blood as she threw him onto the ground, hard. The sound of his jaw breaking made the floorboards shake. Markus wasted no time and imbedded his stake in her spine. Astrid screeched, dark veins rising up to become visible around her neck and temple.

"Omöjligt..." she whispered as she collapsed onto the ground. Her eyes still open and her chest still moving. He hadn't killed her, but Markus had successfully immobilised her.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. No!" Peter panicked over Derek's bloody and sliced form. His wounds healing, albeit not fast enough. "What the hell were you thinking?" he glared at Markus with bared fangs.

Markus answered matter-of-factly, "Protecting my pack."

You whimpered when you saw black oozing from Derek's wounds.

That wasn't good.

"If he dies…" Peter whispered low and sinister. Then he snapped up at you and Theo when Derek grunted weakly, "Break the seal damn it!"

Theo broke the circle with the dragging of his heel and a wave of blue energy rippled out. Faster than you’d ever seen him move before, Peter carried Derek to his couch.

Upon seeing the blood and smelling the copper, your veterinary skills kicking in. You ran to Derek's side and steeled your nerves before slicing the knife across his shirt and exposing his chest. Peter slumped down next to you, eyes serious.

"Help me tie her up," Theo asked for Markus's assistance as he hoisted Astrid onto a chair, binding her hands in rope.

The black veins had spread and her skin was beginning to wrinkle and prune. The tips of her fingers discolouring to a dark purple as one of her nails slipped off from the crown with no opposition.

"Eugh!" Theo grimaced in disgust as he held back a gag. "Uh, man! I th- think she's- she's starting to decompose. Rapidly."

Markus blocked his nose as a new stench wafted through the air.

You could smell it too. It was so strong it made your eyes nearly water.

"Whatever magic keeps her alive, the root from the Nematon must be sapping her dry. You were right," Markus assessed.

"Whatever you needed her alive for, you better do it quick," Theo urged as his cheeks filled with air from a repressed gag.

"Fools…" Astrid spat, a tooth slowly dislodging from her blackening gums. "We can't die!”

"Yeah, well you aren't looking very alive either," Theo coughed out from behind his palm, trying to keep from breathing in her ghastly scent.

Astrid carried on, “One always takes our place. We’re divine soldiers. A champion must always exist as long as the First Coming still lives."

“The First Coming? You mean the plague?” Markus pumped her for information.

Astrid huffed. She smelled like a gangrene infested wound, septic and infected, “The First Coming isn’t a sickness. She is a woman of unparalled power. Only her own magic can imprisson her. Only the blood of the tainted will keep her at bay. When there are none of the ex alia left she will bring about the end of the world. ”

You ignored Astrid’s discomforting words and felt all over across Derek's back, running over the imperfect triskelion. Padded fingers forced black ichor to cascade out from circular holes torn through flesh. Derek's eyelashes fluttered in pain and all you saw were the whites of his eyes. He was too quiet. Too slack. It was unbearable to see him like this, but you had to focus.

You wouldn't let what happened to Alex happen again.

Not to Derek.

"Peter, get me a sharper knife and some alcohol!" You ordered while examining the claw marks more closely. "Markus get me better light. Theo check to see if any of Astrid's claws broke off her fingers."

Displeased, Theo tried to look over Astrid's fingers as carefully as he could, his face sneered in disgust as he held back more gags. When he tried to lift a finger up gently the interphalangeal joint came right off, skin and flesh peeling away freely.

"Eugh! Gross! They keep sliding off like… like fucking butter, I can't- It's too-" He retched dropping Astrid’s severed finger bit like he just lost at a game of hot potato.

Markus scrambled to collect every lamp he could find and place it closer to you while Peter arrived with the whole cutlery tray ripped out of the drawer. Peter unscrewed the cap off the bottle of scotch and held it out for you.

You took a swig and then another and then poured some over Derek's scraped back. Derek shuddered, but no sound came out of his mouth.

Unresponsive to pain, he was going into shock.

You pulled out a butter knife, doused it in alcohol and started digging around Derek's first cut, barking at Theo with authority, "You're just gonna have to deal with it, Theo! Just keep checking!"

Peter picked up the bottle of scotch and took a few swigs himself.

Astrid started laughing, her voice growing hoarse with each chorus, one of her teeth fell out and Theo winced, dodging the discarded enamel.

"Wait, you're right!" Theo shouted when he looked over her other hand. "One of her claws is broken in half! Among other things…"

"That's why he isn't healing," you bit down, resigning yourself to breathe only through your nostrils as you concentrated hard on your task. "I just have to get it out in tim- Shit!" You wiped sweat away with a blood-stained hand.

"What? What is it?" Peter leaned closer.

"I think it punctured his heart..." you stammered, more tears welling in your eyes. You chased them away with a loud clearing of your throat.

Peter dropped the scotch bottle, the glass shattering and spilling amber liquid everywhere. Then, leaving you with no time to react, he lunged at your brother and the two struggled against one another.

"Stop, stop, stop, stop it! You two can fight it out if he… dies. But not while he's still breathing!" Your shout echoed in the loft.

They all stilled, even Astrid. You returned your attention back to Derek.

You had cleaned Derek's wounds as best you could, but Astrid's claw had pierced too deep into his heart. You were afraid you'd simply send Derek off to a far quicker death if you pulled it out. Maybe that would be a mercy, considering his state now.

Derek's body was burning way past the normal temperatures of any human fever. Almost like he was fighting off an infection. His skin was damp and his wounds not yet healed –that scared you. You compressed his larger cuts with the rags of his shirt, but there wasn't much else to do but wait.

Wait and watch him die.

You sniffled several times, trying to keep from progressing to full-on crying. Your heart heavy and your stomach twisting on itself.

"Theo, go to Scott, you can do more for him there. Take Markus with you. He isn't wanted here," Peter said without looking up from his nephew's dying form.

Markus took a step forward, "If you think I'm leaving my sister alone with yo--"

"Go with him," you said softly, not looking up from the blood-soaked rag. "I'll be fine."

Astrid was getting worse too. Her skin had turned leathery now, as though she was mummifying. Her eyes dulled in colour as cataracts formed over her filmy eyeballs. She couldn't see even though her eyes were wide open.

Peter picked himself off the floor and grabbed Derek's stake off the ground.

"What are you going to do with that?" you asked with no emotion. You knew exactly what he was going to do, you just didn't want to go forward with something unsaid.

"I'm going to save my nephew," he said through gritted teeth and he moved over to kneel next to Astrid. "Tell me how to save him!" he barked in her ear. From the way she didn’t react, you guessed her eardrums were the next to go in her decay cycle.

Her head craned too far back, popping sounds emanating from her sagging neck, "You're too late. Kill me. Don't kill me. It doesn't matter. It's up to him now,” one of her fingers pointed at Derek before falling clean off.

Peter growled before stabbing one of Astrid's bony legs under her now baggy armour.

She wheezed in pain.

Peter tilted his head to the side, twisting the stake in her tough, meatless leg, "Tell. Me. How!"

Astrid's jaw pulled wide as she tried to hold back a scream, a rip forming at the corner of her mouth.

"Peter stop!" You stood and pulled the stake out of her leg. "We aren't monsters."

His eyes flashed blue and he backed you away from him with a frightening snarl, canines chomping at the air close to your face, "That's where you're wrong. I am a monster!"

In lightning-quick movements, Peter pushed the stake into Astrid's heart and her whole body began to shrivel.

Between straggled breaths from burst air sacs, Astrid raised her head towards the light of the full moon, a melancholic smile crossing her dehydrated face. With what little life she had left, she whispered words not meant for anyone in this room, "I det här livet och nästa. Jag kommer se dig igen. Min kärlek..."

Then her head went limp, falling to her deflated chest as the ropes slipped off her body. Astrid was no more and in her place was a pathetic mummified corpse steadily turning to dust. Then she was nothing.

Suddenly, and violently, the weather changed. The wind grew tumultuous, a horrifically sharp scream carried with it. In the distant, lighting struck down in unnatural and frequent bursts of light. Somewhere in the dark clouds, a tornado began to swirl.

You and Peter ignored the chaos happening right outside the window. The two of you were locked in your own personal pandemoniums.

"Pull out the claw," Peter said darkly, having made up his mind.

"It's too close to his heart. If I-"

Peter's nose almost touched your own. His clawed fingers wrapping around your neck to pull you close, "His condition is only getting worse. Pull out the claw. If he's going to die, it's going to be quick. Put him out of his misery."

You shoved Peter away, but you knew, deep down, it would be the humane thing to do. And now you knew you had definitely gone insane if you were agreeing with Peter Hale.

“You just had to make me say I told you so,” he said bitterly, a tear streaming down his face. “Just like your mother.”

You knelt next to Derek, trembling fingers grazing his paling flesh. As you wrapped your hands around the tweezers gripping the claw, you whispered in his ear, "You said it took someone of tremendous resolve to go through what I've been through and have survived. I also believe it takes someone of great resolve to go through what you go through every day and still have the courage to wake up every morning. I admire that about you. I believe you still have some fight left, Derek… and I need you to survive this… because… because I have a question to ask you."

With a solemn teardrop, you pulled the claw out of his heart and crumbled to the floor, palms pressed together as you and Peter held your breaths.

An otherworldly green glimmer shone from inside Derek's open wound.

Finale!>>

Tags: @melissavercos @theflash-trash @mynamesalreadytaken @island-end @chipster-21 @helloscorpious @marvelismyfantasy @anonymousfanfics-blog @homra-the-red-clan @derangedangel @phonegalhelp @bowtiesandwhiskers @soldierwinterthe @alina-barnes @luckythepizzadog4444 @tlytxia @drunklili @iamabeautifulperson18 @zenawa @squadkyoya @cassandraevans @moli1497 @wanderlust-travler @143amberrose @humbledarkness @rockyrocket15 @4llmywr1tings @smolbeanfive @500daysofbecky

Permatags:@gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet @savethehoneeybees

#derek hale #derek hale x reader #teen wolf #tyler hoechlin #teen wolf imagines #derek hale imagines #motw #pentultimate chapter #reader insert #derek x you

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kainissoable · 5 years ago

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Gallowmere Traditions

The first instalment of the much pondered post-fic canon fics turns out to be Halloween fluff with Dan and Raziel.

Gen, a bit of blood, will be put on Ao3 in a more polished form later, but I wanted to get it out there today. Happy holidays.

There was a thud against the door. A few seconds later it came again.

And again.

It sounded like someone was trying to kick the damn door in. Considering Professor Kift was unlikely to appreciate boot prints on his front door, Raziel answered it. He pulled the door open sharply, and met Dan's gaze over a precariously stacked armful of pumpkins.

"Daniel, what in the-"

"I'll explain in the kitchen. Now please let me in before I drop the things."

"Here, let me..." Raziel took a couple of the more awkwardly positioned gourds and kicked the doors closed behind them.

"Right," he said when the pumpkins were safely stacked on the kitchen table. "First of all, why?"

"Down at the market someone was selling them off while they're still edible."

"But why did you buy them?"

"It's All Hallows Eve."

"Yes? And?"

"It's a tradition in Gallowmere, once the harvest is taken in, to get the pumpkins that are a bit battered or nibbled on, the ones that won't last the winter, you know, and we'd make lanterns from them to hang outside the house."

Raziel didn't know. Human food was a closed book to him, and he wanted it to remain so. Still, he nodded. It wasn't the oddest tradition out there, and it gave them something to do while Kiya and Kift had their meeting with the museum committee.

"So what exactly are we supposed to do with all these?"

Dan paused as practical questions became more relevant than nostalgia. "I think... first we need to cut the top open and remove the innards. I wish we had Granny Fortesque's recipe book - she used to make the best pumpkin pies..." His eyes misted for a moment before his mind came back to the present. "Then carve a face into it and light a candle inside when it gets dark."

"This would involve knives, correct?"

"Er, yes."

"So what you are saying," Raziel said, "is that when left to our own devices we are going to wave around sharp objects and make a mess of the kitchen?"

Dan considered this.

"Essentially, yes."

"Then give me one moment."

Raziel vanished upstairs. While he was gone, Dan searched the cupboards for a large earthenware bowl and a selection of knives for carving. As he was laying them out on the table, Raziel returned. He placed the first aid kit on a spare corner of the table with a look that defied Daniel to object. He didn't.

"We'll get on then?" Dan rolled his sleeves up and plunged a short knife into his pumpkin with surprising force.

Raziel tried not to cringe as Dan sawed a circle around the stem altogether too close to his own fingers for comfort.

"I may have an idea..." he said.

Dan paused in scraping out his pumpkin innards to look. Historically, coming from Raziel, that was a dangerous phrase.

Raziel picked up a wide bladed knife and started stabbing the top of his pumpkin repeatedly.

"The hell? You're supposed to take the top off, not stab it to death... oh."

Raziel wrenched to top off with a look of triumph which quickly turned to disgust when he saw the mess inside.

Dan handed him a metal spoon and he set about hollowing out the pumpkin.

"You people eat this?" he asked as he scooped another dollop of orange mush into the bowl.

"Not as it is, obviously, but there's a lot you can do with pumpkins. Pumpkin pie, pumpkin jam, pumpkin tarts, roasted pumpkin seeds. My granny made soup of the leftovers just so it didn't go to waste. I'll see if Kift's got any recipes lying around afte- Aaargh!"

Dan dropped his knife, only just missing his foot, and clutched his thumb.

"You bloody... put it under the pump, quickly," Raziel said as he scrambled for the first aid kit. "The last thing we want is any of the juice getting in the wound."

Dan stumbled across to the pump, clutching his hand, and knocked a chair over on the way. He hissed when cold water hit the wound.

"How bad is it? Let me see." Raziel pulled Daniel's hand towards him. "Serrated blades always make such a mess. And for goodness sake, sit down before you fall."

Dan whimpered and yelped as Raziel cleaned the wound and occasionally shushed him.

"All that blood," he murmured. "You don't do things halfheartedly, do you Daniel? There is no need for stitches, at least."

He placed a clean gauze over the cut. "Hold that there for a moment."

Dan pressed down on it and winced. He watched Raziel rummage through the box for a suitably sized bandage.

"Ah, here we are. Move your thumb... hand up... turn your wrist.." Raziel wound the bandage round and round until the dressing was secured. He tied it off and patted Dan's arm.

Dan smiled at him, slightly sheepishly. "Thank you. Do you trust me to carry on after that?"

"Only if you keep your fingers well away from the knife. I do not want to ask Kiya to sew anything back on."

"I'll be careful."

"When have I heard that before?" Raziel sighed and pulled the half finished pumpkin across the table towards them. "Why do you even have this tradition anyway? Knives and open flames sound like a recipe for disaster, and not simply due to your involvement. And put the knife down before answering, please."

"My granny said it was to keep away the things that stalked the night somewhere between alive and dead. They were poor men's gargoyles, just lasting long enough for the night they were really needed. Sometimes if we had a few gourds that were going manky we'd make other things as well. I remember one year Tim carved the most intricate floral pattern. When he lit the candle inside, it looked like you could pick those roses... Come to think of it, I never saw Zarok carve one, and none of the witches ever hung them out either. I suppose they had better ways of dealing with demons and the like."

Raziel cut the last fang into his own pumpkin and tapped his claws against it for a few moments. "I wonder..."

He stood up. "Don't stab yourself to death in my absence."

"You have no faith in me," Dan muttered.

He had finished carving one pumpkin and was starting on another by the time Raziel came back with a quill and ink pot.

"I see you have avoided any more self inflicted injuries. Excellent."

Dan made a gesture with his good hand which Raziel chose to ignore as he started carefully drawing a design onto a fresh pumpkin. After a while, Dan stopped his careful scooping and looked over curiously. With a bit of smudging and nib scratching, Raziel was carefully scribing his clan symbol onto the bumpy orange surface with surprising skill.

Feeling like some unspoken challenge had been issued, Dan took a minute to look critically at his current project and decided he could make it better.

"Have you finished with that quill? I think you're onto something there."

"Mmh?" Raziel looked up from his carving, then the words registered and he handed the quill and pot over. "Oh, of course."

Considering Daniel unlikely to injure himself with with a quill pen, Raziel went back to what he was doing until he got nudged again.

"Can you pass me that curved knife, please?"

"What for?" he asked suspiciously, looking at the blood which was starting to seep through the bandage.

"I want to take the skin off this bit so some of the light gets through. It's the only way I can think to do the bifurcated shield."

"Ah, I see. Try this one instead, it appears to be the same form as Melchiah's favoured skinning knife."

There was a pause.

"I realise, now, that this was not the best thing to say," Raziel said.

Kiya and Professor Kift came back not long after dusk to a most ridiculously decorated porch. Several ghoulish faces leered at them, Gallowmere's coat of arms and half the clan symbols of Nosgoth crowded around the doorway, all lit by flickering candles and carved on gourds.

"What- why-?"

Kiya looked to the professor, who looked just as confused as her.

"I haven't the foggiest, although I suspect the other gentlemen of the house may. I'll take upstairs if you take downstairs?"

Kiya found Daniel and Raziel in the kitchen in the middle of a scene of devastation. A chair was on its side, there was blood on the floor, a bandage around Dan's hand, and practically every utensil they owned scattered about various work surfaces. The pies cooling on the side suggested that they had been cooking. Everything else suggested the kitchen had been a war zone.

"Dare I ask?"

"Welcome back," Dan said cheerfully. "It's an old Gallowmere tradition-"

"-Daniel-" Raziel began.

"-meant to bring good luck-"

"-yes, but Dan-" Kiya tried.

"-and keep away evil influences-"

"The oven's on fire!" Kiya shouted.

"Oh hell!"

#my fics #medievil #crossover #I just love these two idiots' dynamic #will try to do some awful edit of the finished pumpkins

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twistednuns · 5 years ago

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December 2019

Maxim calling out of the blue, inviting me to the Mine concert later that month.

Stumbling upon great inspiration for plant-based buddha bowls.

@shitgothssay memes.

Zotter salted caramel chocolate.

Finding out about the fact that you can just add the letter A to some words to transform them into adjectives. Like aglitter or aglow and aglisten.

Ayurvedic Kapha tea with some black tea, honey and milk. Sonnentor Gute Laune tea. Green tea with toasted coconut.

Isana shower oil. Works wonders for dry skin. Such a smooth and creamy texture. Great for shaving, too.

Winning the pub quiz - again! I played with Maggie, Dennis, Daniel and Steffen (Team name: Three geese in a trenchcoat) and we won 178€. However, the best thing about this was when I finally solved the anagram after thinking about it for 10 minutes. It was Greta Thunberg! Winning is lovely, of course, but solving the anagram is already a personal win for me each time.

Tuesdays. Coming home early, sleeping it off.

Being super rested after a nap, cooking a huge pot of veggie stew and my ratatouille signature recipe, even preparing a batch of butter bean hummus and salad dressing. Listening to folk music, singing along, even dancing at some point. Standing there, peeling the potatos… Happy moment.

Signature manicure. Always. This time: bluish iridescent lilac with the obligatory black dot.

A personal realisation. I’ve been massively out of touch with myself. I’ve stopped journaling, stopped doing things for myself because they’re beneficial and not because they’re convenient and numb everything. And why is that a good thing? Well, only being at this point and realising what’s wrong with me makes it possible to do something against it. To come up a self-care plan. To make myself feel better.

Semi-deleting Facebook.

Spending time with Manu for the first time in three months. Watching a documentary about black holes and a cheesy Christmas movie. Ordering south Indian food, cuddling up in bed. Sometimes I don’t know why I keep isolation myself. Being around people can be really lovely and soothing if you can be yourself around them. It’s just that I often feel the presence of other living beings drains my energy.

The best massage I ever had. From now on I’ll always request Yaya as my massage therapist. She is SICK. Strong, merciless, forces me into weird poses and makes my back crack.

Also: the chocolate-filled mint hard candy they hand out at the massage studio. I used to hate mint-infused chocolate but somehow I think these are delicious. Perfect after-torture-treat.

Persimmons. Obsessed.

My eye colour in artificial light. A dark moss green with caramel-coloured speckles and a dark rim.

The National playing a 2-hour-long concert and including some of my favourite songs from the High Violet album. Fangirling with Anika.

The smell of cold. You know, that whiff of cool air you get when you’re sniffing a jacket that’s been hanging on the balcony for a few hours to air out.

Learning more about Claire Saffitz from this article - she likes arts and crafts, is a homebody and has degrees in history and literature! She basically enrolled in culinary school because she was bored after graduation. She’s an enigma of a quirky kind. Not brilliant and scattered, but determined and aimless. Not brave and rebellious, but anxious and creative. She hates change yet pursues it, wants order but trades in chaos. She’s loved because she hates stuff; performs well because she can’t perform. And above all, she’s aggressively regular—and something about this makes the crowd go wild.

Fresh laundry smell on my blankets and pillows. And my new gravity blanket. It weighs 11kg which feels crazy heavy when you carry it but the weight evenly distributes over the body when you’re lying down. Apparently the pressure triggers the release of stress hormones. So far I’m sleeping like a baby and I don’t seem to wake up or move much at night.

Stephanie Madewell. I love everything she writes, her blog is such a godsend of beautiful, important, eclectic ideas. One thing I especially like are her imaginary outfits.

Princess Margaret’s limerick contest with President Lyndon B. Johnson in The Crown. Pure comedy. “There was a young lady from Dallas / who used a dynamite stick as a phallus / they found her vagina in North Carolina / and her asshole in Buckingham Palace.”

Little pieces of string in the corners of a duvet cover. It’s the first time I’ve seen those. So practical for big blankets!

Mental health days. I needed this. So much. Mornings in bed, reading for hours. Drinking a whole pot of tea.

Partner yoga. Chanting the closing mantra together.

Making vegan energy balls for my brother. I adapted the recipe and made my own versions so I ended up with a batch of pistachio/cherry and mango/sesame.

Freaking out whenever I see a cute cat. Damn, I really need to spend more time with animals. My highlight: breakfast in bed, watching a video of an adorable cat giving birth. I cried. Yup.

Going swimming for the first time in, man, I don’t even know. Forever. I didn’t swim for a long time, maybe half an hour, but muscle memory kicked in immediately. Water is totally my element. And, as if it had been destiny: I chose the day they cut the hanging plants in the main hall and the guy gave me a variety of five different cuttings to take home!! He made me a very happy girl.

The ink blue sky right after sunset. / The morning after the full moon in Gemini (the moon still bright and huge, visible in the bluish-grey Western sky). / When the sun suddenly comes out after a very dark and gloomy morning.

Buying a new phone. The old one was broken beyond repair. I even got a nice cork protective case. How could I ever live without an uncracked screen? The battery now actually lasts for more than a day. Nice.

Odd bits of knowledge: A galanthophile is an enthusiastic collector and identifier of snowdrop (Galanthus) species and cultivars. (Wikipedia) // Scientists theorize the Universe might have cracks in it: long thin boundaries that formed as space cooled after the Big Bang. 95 billion lightyears long and a few femtometers thin, these wrinkles in space-time would hold enough energy to bend light and destroy entire planets. (PHD comics) // the word to bloviate (German meaning: schwafeln, langatmig vortragen) // In Japan we have three rituals: HANAMI, TSUKIMI, and YUKIMI. HANAMI is watching the flowers. TSUKIMI is watching the moon, YUKIMI is watching the snow. It’s a beautiful tradition when you invite people to watch with you. I remember them all. (Yoko Ono) // In linguistics, prosody is concerned with those elements of speech that are not individual phonetic segments (vowels and consonants) but are properties of syllables and larger units of speech, including linguistic functions such as intonation, tone, stress, and rhythm. Such elements are known as suprasegmentals. Prosody may reflect various features of the speaker or the utterance: the emotional state of the speaker; the form of the utterance (statement, question, or command); the presence of irony or sarcasm; emphasis, contrast, and focus. It may otherwise reflect other elements of language that may not be encoded by grammar or by choice of vocabulary. (Wikipedia) //

I know I mention this a lot but the first olfactory whiff of a freshly cut open passion fruit is one of the best smells I know.

When my breakfast tastes like a candy bar. Which it immediately does whenever I add almond butter and cocoa nibs to porridge.

Yoga at home on a sunny Saturday afternoon. I’m often too lazy to get out my yoga mat but whenever I do afterwards I’m always so glad I practiced. Also: going to yoga class despite being extremely stressed out. It actually helped me silence some of these tormenting thoughts in my head.

Cutting my own hair. It’s kinda ridiculous and layered but I love the new bounce.

Michael Nyman - Musique à grande vitesse x // feels like it makes my pulse quicker, it’s urging and forceful.

My adventures in psychedelia - an article about the therapeutic effect of psychoactive drugs. I’m going to get Michael Pollan’s book about the topic from the library next week. So interesting.

People who are still writing letters.

My pupils. I realised that some of them have become very fine people. Open, compassionate, motivated, interested, bright, polite. Like the students who attended our first school magazine meeting in their spare time - on the last school day before the Christmas holidays - and had all these amazing ideas. Victor, being able to hold a conversation like an adult. Marks cuddling that dog in front of the supermarket. My tenth-graders being really reasonable, managable, easy to talk to.

Liza Weil’s role as Shy Baldwin’s bass player in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. It took me three episodes to recognize her.

A little embroidery set. I love keeping my hands busy when I’m watching movies.

Making vegan walnut lebkuchen and a very good batch of crisp bread in one go.

Roast apples with candied almonds and marzipan for Christmas dinner. Some buckwheat chocolate cookies. Actually helping out my mum in the kitchen.

Sitting at the piano with my brother, singing tunes from our childhood series, Disney songs, pop songs… We both had sore throats afterwards.

Visiting Sash’s parents over Christmas. Her mum cooked a pretty great lunch and we played board games.

Learning how to make a monkey fist knot.

Finding a new spot I like in my apartment. The chair right next to the window at the kitchen table. It’s nice and warm because you can sit beside the heater and while you have breakfast or browse through a cookbook you can see what’s going on outside.

Seeing the incredible gobelins at Kunsthalle / Fäden der Moderne exhibition. I loved the Le Corbusier ones.

Visiting Manu at his parents' place. Playing board games together, his mum feeding me with parsley potatoes and a weird _bird's milk_ dessert. Lying on the sofa, watching old movies. It's weirdly nice to be part of a normal family dynamic once in a while.

Andre saving my New Year’s Eve at the very last minute. Out of the blue he suggested a trip to Czech Republic right after midnight the day before. I was like… okay, let’s do this! So I met up with him and three people I had never met before in Regensburg and we drove to Český Krumlov, checked into our fancy hotel and walked down to the city centre. Czech food for dinner, a band playing at the city square. We climbed up to the castle for the turn of the year. This must have been the first year that started out with a proper New Year’s kiss. Afterwards we went to a weird music bar and - apparently - one of the best clubs in the country. I had a lot of fun. Even though getting Andre home was quite a challenge.

#things i love #personal #present perfect #december #2019 #december 2019

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lestatdesade · 6 years ago

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what pens do you use and why are they so expensive

oh boy anon, LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT PENS

but before I begin my pensanity a few notes:

1. I have SEVERE migraines and sensitivity to strong smells. So while there may be copic stans out there saying “but copics don’t smell!”-this is horseshit. I don’t use ANY alcohol-based markers. No sharpies, no copics, no spectrum noir.

2. I don’t feel like using those expensive pigment markers because wow- they’re expensive as fuck. I haven’t even tried them because damn, they’re expensive.

3. As an artist, I consider myself a professional JEWELRY artisan. Meaning that I don’t DRAW professionally. I have never taken an actual drawing class. I don’t want to scream LOOMIS, but fuckin seriously- Loomis. Also Bob Ross’s approach to coloring works pretty good for brush markers, if you’re not an ape handed idiot who smashes pens like a toddler. What I’m saying is that while this stuff I’ve learned from my personal trial/error, my method is probably a bit different than the “standard”. (Standard meaning “someone who has taken an actual professional art class and isn’t just dicking around in their spare time”.)

Drawing is my fun little hobby time and I don’t factor in things like archival quality or lightfastedness bc honestly, I don’t think anyone is going to want to keep any of my current art ten, twenty years from now when those things start to show. Also, I scan everything in photoshop so the high-res digital images are immortal and can be re-printed at anytime. Because I work in pen, which lacks texture, it doesn’t really make a difference if you can see the “3-d” texture like you would an oil or acrylic painting.

4. I buy everything at Michaels and I pretty much always just buy the packs to save money. Packs? But isn’t that EXPENSIVE? Not when you use the “50% off any one item” coupon, it’s A LOT CHEAPER than buying them individually. I know hobbylobby also sells tombow in packs, but their coupons generally only go up to 40% off. Also I go to a dr. weekly whose office is near a michaels so it’s generally just better for schedule that way.

5. I have arthrtis AND carpal tunnel. I use “short cuts”. I’m not fucking sorry.

ALRIGHTY- SO HERE IT GOES:

Fine Line Details:

http://www.michaels.com/pigma-micron-assorted-fine-tip-black-pens-3pk/10514199.html

TBH, I do occasionally buy these in singles bc I tend to either use .005 or .05 and I rarely use the others. So I run out of the .005 and the .05 FREQUENTLY.

thick black lines:

http://www.michaels.com/faber-castell-pitt-big-brush-artist-pen-black/10279148.html#q=faber+castell+black+pen&start=4

I mostly use this to fill in areas of moderate, solid black space. Since most of my art is of the gothy persuation, I tend to use a fuck ton of these bastards.

Shading:

http://www.michaels.com/tombow-dual-brush-pens-grayscale/10514322.html

These are the motherfucking goldmine bitchtits and I feel like my art has improved 500X since I picked up these bad boys. Are they expensive? Yes. Does I go through them quickly? Oh yeah. But they work so well. They blend like a dream. They’re like using watercolors but with more control and faster dry time. I love them SO MUCH. I find that the pitt artist black is deeper in tone than the tombow brushpen black so I still use that for deep black spaces even though it’s a lot more expensive.

Little highlights: white gel pen. it’s white gel pen. idk what else to say on that.

For pencils- I use a mechnical pencil and a white plastic eraser. It’s nothing special.

Paper I usually use a pretty thick and smooth “bristol” paper. Bristol comes in textured and smooth finishes, I go for the smooth. I guess they have marker-specific cardstock paper but I haven’t tried it yet because I use waterbased and not alcohol based markers so idk if it would make a difference. Some people use water color paper but I don’t because the texture wears down a felt tip nib super fast.

Also if I’m just fucking around doing studies, I like using “pilot g-2 .05 gel” pens. They’re like 5$ for a pack of 6 at walmart and tbh, a single pen lasts me a loooong time even when I’m furiously using it on a ton of stuff. I find the grip comfortable and the ink/point is really super smooth so I don’t require a great deal of pressure and the easy gliding won’t hurt my hand so much. Also I prefer these for any kind of writing because when you write a lot by hand it hurts like hell going to regular ballpoints after using these all the time.

Usually I go through an entire set of pens, like, every six or so drawings? It’s not really “one pen per drawing” bc I use different pens for different things but I do move them quickly enough, and they’re expensive enough that I’d need to charge a supply fee.

#my art #pens #motherfuckin pesn everywhere holy fuck

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italicwatches · 6 years ago

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Comic Girls - Episode 02

Why do I let myself stare into the abyss. …Anyways, anime. Anime is a good distraction. It’s Comic Girls, episode 02! Here we GO!

-It’s a new day at the dorm. The landlady is handling a chat with Kaos’s editor, who seems to be getting pegged into the motherly role for our little pink moeblob. And she can confirm that everything’s going great between all the girls, they’re getting along wonderfully…

-As Koyume puts Kaos’s long hair up into some twin buns. So what’s the over-under on the whole damn dorm turning Kaos into their doll slash mascot? But, they’re going out on a trip today! And not alone either, they’ll have Ruki and Tsuba—

-TSUBASA HAS ARRIVED! FULL SERIOUS MODE ACHIEVED! FEEL HER MANLY CHUUNI CHARM, YE LESBIANS, AND TREMBLE!

-Ruki quietly pulls her idiot roommate back to make her put on normal clothes. But even normal clothes still have Koyume swept up in her manly chuuni charm.

-Opening! Yep there are those lilies. If anyone turns out to really be a bear, I called it now.

-So where’s the gang going? Into Shinjuku, into the city proper! Into the kind of place where the trains are packed and the crowds are thick! So thick that Kaos finds herself being swept up in the sea of people, unable to escape…! At least until Ruki starts hauling people together. Ruki and Tsubasa, and Kaos quickly realizes all that damn manly charm Tsubasa has.

-Sidenote, just so we’re clear, I’m not the only one who’s just calling her Kaos all the time. Everyone is. We have heard her real name all of once, and I’m not sure what it is without looking it up. She’s just Kaos, through and through.

-Anyways, where do they end up first? Well, Kaos wants to go to a big proper book store…And woooowwww, this is a big place. Also I’m about 80% sure the fictional books the girls call out, like Super Exciting Paradise and Pretty Highness, are shoujo-ai books at the least. But that’s not all they find…Tsubasa’s latest work, the very same series they were just assisting on a few days ago, is on the shelf! And with a popup ad and the cover displayed! Holy shit they’re in the presence of not just an impossible amount of manly charm, but a GOD.

-So Koyume has to buy, like, five copies. As does Kaos. Even though Tsubasa has multiple copies of every volume to be given away as gifts. But you’re not going full otaku, or full hard crush, unless you’re spending money you don’t have to feed the machine. But eventually, they have their things…

-So what’s the next step? To a super trendy cafe! Where Kaos freaks out because only super cool high school girls can go in there. One, none of them are cool. Two, you’re a high school girl. Three, chill. Also Ruki insisted on lunch because if she doesn’t, Tsubasa will burn through all of her blood sugar at the art supply store and get dizzy. Again. So shut up and eat your damn crepe.

-And when the crepes arrive, Kaos doesn’t know how to handle something so cute, in a place full of nothing but trendy cute sexy young women in tiny miniskirts…Until finally Koyume feeds her the dang crepe.

-Finally to the art supply store and the meat we came here for. Kaos is freaking out at the density of the place. But, first step for her is she wants a full set of things she’d need as an assistant to be able to help everyone else out on the fly. Necessities it is! Forward MARCH! And then Tsubasa sees something she wants and she’s just gone, lost in her own fan behavior. Enthusiastic Tsubasa is kind of adorable, by the way.

-Then she picks up a feathered quill pen and sure, it looks cool, but it just seems impractical…

-And then Koyume says she looks cool with it and Tsubasa immediately goes FULL SERIOUS. Four-Quill Dip Style! And now she’s going to buy them all! Plus a ton of ink and new dip pens, as Koyume keeps trying to imitate her…And Tsubasa tries to encourage her to find her own path, but Koyume is most firmly motivated by, well, being like her Tsubasa-sama. It’s all that manly charm.

-So, quick sidenote, let’s explain fancy pens! While the analog comic artist has a lot of different options, there are essentially three major camps worth discussing for doing ink lines. These can be summed up in tech pens, brush and fountain pens, and dip pens. Some of this might get covered in the episode itself, but I love talking about stupid shit, so.

-Tech pens, or technical pens, started life as engineer’s tools before artists found them; you might be familiar with the Sakura Micron line if you’re a fucking weeb like myself. These are noted for a small, semi-flexible tip that gives a very consistent line width, and of course have an internal ink reservoir. Their greatest asset, this consistency, is also their chief weakness: A 0.5 millimeter tech pen is basically always going to put out a 0.5 millimeter line no matter which way you turn it or press it. This is fine, even preferable for more basic linework, but if you want to do more complex stuff…

-Then you need to consider brush and fountain pens. These are very different tools, but I’ve bundled them together to talk about them since they carry some similar advantages and disadvantages. Both still use an internal ink reservoir, though whether it’s pre-installed in a disposable or can be refilled varies. A brush pen uses an actual, quite flexible brush tip of I waaaaannna say a firm foam material, but don’t quite me on that, while a fountain pen uses a metal nib against a ribbed feed. The chief advantage here is flexibility; because firmness and angle matter, you can vary line width from stroke to stroke, or even within the stroke, by controlling your pen. The downside, naturally, is that you have to provide that control. Getting a line to stay at that 0.5 millimeter width the tech pen offers so easily, can be real hard with a brush pen, and not that much easier with a fountain pen. You don’t have as much flex with the fountain pen, but the size and shape of the nib give you a lot of control over like shape: Slightly modified forms, with a sharp-cornered square tip, are standard for Western style calligraphy, to give you an idea of what you can do with one.

-Lastly, and most simply thanks to all the previous stuff, are dip pens and straight-up brushes! These ultimately feed into the same idea as the fountain pen and brush pen, with one key difference: No ink reservoir. You have to dip into ink each time for your lines. This carries some advantages and disadvantages of its own, but it mostly feeds into the idea of control. Dip pens require very little commitment to a single shape for very long, as well as letting you do things to effect through how much or little ink you allow to fill the feed. All of this goes even further with the brush, though I’m gonna level with you, I don’t know of any manga artists who just use a brush like they’re doing fuckin’ sumi-e. I’m sure they exist, but they’re not likely to be found in the Jump-ass battle manga I typically read.

-Oh, and as ever, don’t quote me on this stuff I’m not an expert support your local library okay BACK TO THE SHOW

-So Tsubasa’s showing how you can use an overfull dip pen to create a really cool blood splatter effect by literally splattering the ink across the page, which is a skill Koyume wouldn’t even need while doing shoujo manga…And then Kaos sees their art pieces, from Tsubasa’s stern manly elf boy to the adorable shoujo girl from Koyume that he’s protecting…Aaand the best she can do is one of her cute chibi little characters in a very rough rendition of a knight’s armor, cheering them on.

-So where else are they going? To the screen tone section! Ruki is all gushing about new flower designs, which she inevitably ends up buying a bunch of. Koyume is imagining using them for cute flowing dresses on her girls. Ruki is imagining using them for sexy underwear. …Well, Ruki will be able to keep using the same pack for a lot longer, then, at least.

-Another aside while we’re talking craft, what are screen tones? You may have heard of them in previous manga-making shows and books, but the idea is really quite simple! They’re literally a pattern printed onto a very thin translucent sheet with a modest adhesive backing. When working in analog, you can get complex patterns easily by cutting out the rough shape of whatever you’re filling out of a matching screen tone sheet, adhering it down over your work, then using an x-acto knife to gently trace over the actual line edges and peel off the stuff you don’t need. You can easily recognize screen tone use because they tend to stay in the midtones, and are very consistent, being mass-produced and printed. Their most common uses are for complex symbolic backgrounds, and clothing patterns, but there are plenty of more complex and elaborate uses various artists have come up with!

-Back to the show. Ruki finds some cool bubbly background tones that Koyume can use…While Tsubasa’s going for the super-contrasty black and white lightning at FULL INTENSITY. And Kaos is buying lots of grim dark spoopy shadows. As for Ruki herself…She needs lots of smooth coverage for all the nudity coming up in her next work. Which means bubbly splotches, as Kaos asks what they’re for, and oh god she can’t admit the truth to this tiny innocent fetus.

-And then Koyume finds the cool patterned masking tape! …It’s patterned masking tape. Washi tape. If anyone you know goes to a craft store regularly or has a Pinterest account, you have seen this stuff. Tape in general is useful for keeping things firmly in place while working on your manuscript in an analog world, and, well, the cute patterns are because they are all teenaged girls. Mostly, Ruki ends up despairing when they start trying to pick sexy patterns for her, not some cute bubbly thing like everyone else got. I’m sorry, Ruki, but you have a reputation now.

-Also Tsubasa hears some girls debating pens and goes over to be all Cool and Manly and Get Their Numbers. …Okay mostly she goes over to offer help from a position of experience but I’m not wrong. So soon she leads them to some useful supplies for starting off drawing manga, and they’re all swept up in Tsubasa’s manly charm and Ruki’s gentle guidance and see themselves in Koyume and you can grow up to draw manga someday too, little pink haired moeblob!

-I’m sorry, Kaos.

-I mean, fuck, what else do you say to that, right?

-Eventually they can actually buy their stuff…Well, Koyume can buy most of her stuff. She’s a little shy after the books and the crepe. She’s gonna have to get rid of all of this cute masking tape…

-So Tsubasa picks it up to buy instead. And Kaos’s, too. A gift for both of you as thanks for the help the other day. Both girls are even more smitten than before. I didn’t think that was possible, but here we are.

-By the time they’re on the way back, it’s late in the day, and Kaos feels motivated to push even harder…Aaaand then they end up using the entire night chatting, and it’s time to get a few hours of sleep in the grim morning…

-When Tsubasa turns the TV on and the morning news is talking about the end of Golden Week.

-They have school.

-In like an hour.

-FUCK

-Episode 02: “Back to School”

-And Kaos gets to try on her new high school uniform, and she feels like she’s a real manga protag—

-And then she sees Ruki in her perfect setup and Tsubasa with her gives-no-fucks jacket and she realizes she’s just a background character next to these cool stylish girls she wants to smooch. …Oh and Koyume does the fucking shoujo manga toast-mouth run.

-Okay, to actual school! Where…

-I should have expected this.

-Tsubasa is the prince of the school.

-ofcourse.gif

-Also that cool splatter pattern on her shirt? …She spilled ink on it and just let it dry. How do you do this? Anyways, Tsubasa is the cool prince, and Ruki is the unapproachable stylish onee…sama…People are totally starting to realize she does something sketchy. Ruki, this is gonna be a lot less bad if they know you draw naughty manga than if they think you’re going and playing hostess to creepy old men or something.

-Oh and it comes out that Ruki and Tsubasa are the same age as our rookies. I’m sorry, they’re not older and more mature, those are just stress lines from the grim reality of a working mangaka lifestyle. Also Koyume is totally enthralled by the sexy slightly-stern homeroom teacher! So enthralled she puts a bow on her. And Kaos just wants to be scolded by the beautiful teacher lady. Truly you are Ruki’s apprentice.

-And then it turns out that while Ruki and Tsubasa are in the same class as Kaos, Koyume is in a different class. Alas, poor Koyume, no stern beautiful teacher lady for you. And that’s when Kaos realizes she hasn’t used her real name in so long she’s doubting her ability to write and pronounce it. She’s been going by Kaos around everyone. Everywhere. And people are staring. Trendy beautiful high school girls are staring, at her, with doubt in their eyes. So this, isn’t, ideal…But she finally pulls herself together despite the nervousness. That kid’s a real mess.

-Especially when she realizes she brought her manga pen case and not her school pen case. So instead of mechanical pencils and ballpoint pens, it’s dip pens, fat black markers and a screen tone pressing tool. …Well shit. And then people notice and Kaos cracks like an egg. If I hadn’t wanted to get a shot of each character for an episode…And then girls start asking her getting-to-know-you questions, which include her hobbies.

-So what are Kaos’s non-manga-drawing hobbies? She ingests tons of otaku media full of cute waifus and collects their slightly ecchi bishoujo figurines. But that’s not something you can say out loud. And the questions keep coming and Kaos just straight up faints. Which means a trip to the nurse’s office…And Koyume coming to check on her, before being dragged off by her new normal friends to get lunch. She’s already gotten friends. Alas, poor Kaos.

-At least you’ve got your fellow weirdos. But, yeah, Kaos suffers from social anxiety. I know these feelings all too well, even if they got expressed rather differently due to my own circumstances. Also when Ruki offers to get her moved closer to them in class, and Kaos’s look of appreciation just breaks Ruki as she has to keep herself from doing things to this sweet innocent zygote. …It doesn’t work very well.

-But Tsubasa’s advice is also that you don’t need to worry nearly so much about actually talking to people, making tons of friends, as you do about observing them…Learning from them. And that really hits home for Kaos, who’s been struggling with how to portray Normal High School Girls…Oh and Tsubasa’s advice is rounded off with her big buff bad guy sketch she’s been working on the whole time. You’re absurd.

-At the end of the schoolday, Koyume immediately comes and clings to her sweet little Kaos…And also she’s immediately made friends and had chats with girls who have actual boyfriends. Tsubasa and Ruki quietly despair at their own lack of success in love. Just steal these two rookies into the night, it’ll be fine. Mostly fine. It’ll work out. The law will never catch you.

-So, back to the dorm? Back to the dorm. When they run into…A stray kitty! TAKE THE KITTY HOME DO IT NOW. I DEMAND IT. And Kaos gets all the kitties. Except for one scared little kitty in the distance, so nervous, even as it lets her pick it up…She knows this fear, you sweet precious creature! KEEP THE CAT.

-Credits!

She better keep that cat.

And hey, another huge log. I blame the amount of setup, and also the amount of time we spent talking about craft materials. Next time should be more room to loosen up since we can broaden out to scene-level recap more. In theory. We’ll see what happens in episode THREE of Comic Girls! Wait for it!

#where I watch #recap #anime #comic girls

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hellomissmabel · 7 years ago

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The whole package

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Lane Tucker x plus size!reader

Warnings: There’s partial nudity but it’s not gonna hurt you. For a Lance Tucker fic, this is surprisingly safe.

Word count: 1.789

Summary: One more tournament and Lance is ready to settle down and quit professional gymnastics. He loves Y/N and has been thinking about their future for a while now. But Lance isn’t very good at planning and one lazy Saturday morning, when he’s chilling in bed with his girl, he makes an impromptu decision.

A/N: I’ve posted a masterlist with all upcoming plus size!reader fics. I keep getting new ideas, so this masterlist will be updated as the ideas come and go. There will always be an announcement post. If you want on the tag list, please comment on the announcement post of send me an ask!

This is the sequel to Good at worshipping (Lance Tucker x plus size!reader)

Inspired by this post by @thatawkwardtinyperson and by a conversation I had earlier with @winterboobaer. This one’s for you, @hollycornish!

All plus size fics can be found here

It’s been a couple weeks since Lance left professional gymnastics behind him. It was a tough decision given he’s the self-proclaimed “God of gymnastics” and Lance was adamant you’d accompany him on his final tournament. Unfortunately the germs got to you first so you couldn’t attend, but Lance made sure you wouldn’t miss a minute of it. It started as he was getting ready in his dressing room and a cheeky thought popped into his mind. He instantly grabbed his phone, walking over to the bathroom mirror. With great concentration, he took a selfie of his divinely sculpted body, adding a little message for you before pressing send.

You looked down at your beeping phone with great excitement. Only as soon as you opened his new text message, your face fell in frustration. Lance, every the asshole, had written a complimentary “Are you horny yet?” to go with the picture of his muscled torso.

With his phone in hand, he live streamed himself and the entire games up until the point it was his moment to shine and he passed on the phone to one of his crew members. He won his last gold that day and announced to the world that he was retiring. When the reporters asked for a reason why, he made quick work of his reply.

“Because I’m in love,” Lance commented and you’re pretty sure that same day the whole world forgave Lance for his past mistakes.

It’s safe to say life’s been good to the both of you. Lance is now coaching promising young Americans to their own gold medal and you’re still drawing tattoo designs at Body Cult, only thanks to Lance’s winnings you were able to buy the place from Frankie. Your former boss got an interesting business proposal in Los Angeles and didn’t know what to do with the shop. He could’ve passed it on to his brother Archie, but Archie isn’t as artistic as you. So you came to an agreement and now you’re your own boss.

And being your own boss has its perks. It means you can take Saturday mornings off and sleep in with your boyfriend, Lance, who cancelled his morning practice for you. You’re on your stomach, leaning on your elbows, your mind warped into an imaginary world as you’re rereading your favourite book. You’re just wearing panties and no top, this September’s Indian summer in combination with Lance’s hot-blooded company providing you with enough warmth during the night.

His chest is lain across your legs, one arm lazily slung over your bum as he keeps himself busy on his phone with the other. He’s wearing his sunglasses indoors even though the curtains pretty much break all the light falling from the windows. But Lance is extra as fuck and doesn’t care how it makes him look.

“Baby?,” Lance asks you as he gently runs his palm over your ass cheeks.

“Yes, Lance?,” you hum softly, putting your book down and craning your body so your eyes lock with your boyfriend’s.

He gives your skin a slight pinch, showing the picture on his phone to you. “What do you think of this one?”

Rolling your eyes at Lance, you chuckle at the photograph of yet another tattoo. “Haven’t you got enough tattoos already?” You eye the full sleeve inked on his left arm and point towards the matching tattoos on his ribcage.

Lance sighs exasperatingly, scrolling on his phone with his eyebrows raised in concentration, slightly annoyed with you. You’re the tattoo artist, you’re supposed to endorse his tattoo endeavours. “Or this one?”

It’s not necessarily the design you don’t like, but more the fact that he’s looking up the work of other tattoo artists first without consulting you about it. You’re an artist and in the art business, whether it’s tattoos or paintings or lyrics, it’s not-done to copy another artist’s designs. So if your asshole wants a new tattoo, he should just come to you with his ideas. But you’re too shy to actually call him out on it.

So instead, you go with this. “It’s alright,” you reply dryly with a mild shrug.

“It’s alright?,” Lance heaves out with a light groan, taking off his sunglasses. “You call this alright?”

“Yep,” you reply casually, popping the ‘p’ just to push his buttons a little more.

“Baby,” Lance coos in a sultry tone, sensing you’re holding something back from him. “What’s going on with you?”

Playing with the delicate white lace of your underwear, he hooks his fingers underneath the fabric and pulls a little at it, grinning cockily at you. “I really want another tattoo, Y/N, and I want you to do the handiwork again,” he flirts with you. “I promise I’ll reward you plenty.”

Suddenly he releases the fabric of your underwear and it snaps against your skin, causing you to yelp softly and bat his hands away. To soothe the slight sting, he continues to caress your cheeks, massaging the plump flesh with the palms of his soft hands.

“I have no doubt about that,” you whisper seductively before your tone loses its sweet tenor and turns hard. “I’ll gladly give you another tattoo, but not that one or the other one before that.”

Lance gives you a puzzled look, pressing his lips to your bum. “Okay, then I’ll keep looking until I find one you like,” he concludes with a final nib to your skin, sucking a light mark on your ass before slapping it lightly to emphasise his words.

“No, Lance,” you finally snap at him even though you don’t want to get angry with him. “Don’t you get it?” You turn around and sit up, pushing him away when he tries to crawl up to you. “I don’t want to give you a tattoo that’s drawn by another artist.”

You pry his phone out of his hands and toss it on the pillows behind you, out of his reach. “Who did that sleeve for you?,” you ask with raised eyebrows as you gesture to his arm. “I drew every single twist and twirl. By. Hand.”

Lance instantly understands where you’re going with this and sits cross-legged in front of you, his knees touching yours and his hands reaching out to take yours in his. “I love every twist and every twirl you designed for me, baby.” He searches your eyes for forgiveness, squeezing your hands affectionately. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m an asshole, you know that. But I’m – “

“Yeah, yeah, you’re an asshole but you’re my asshole,” you interrupt him softly, casting your eyes downwards. “I’m sorry, too, Lance. I’m just –“

This time it’s Lance’s turn to interrupt you, releasing one of your hands to gently lift up your chin, guiding your eyes back to his. “You’re just very shy and very insecure. About your art, your body,… even sometimes about us.” You look into his eyes and push back some of his messy bedhead hair out of his eyes. “Well, you know what, baby? I’m insecure too.”

Snorting at his surprising confession, you bite your lower lip. “I’m serious, Y/N!,” he retorts with a playful chuckle.

“You know I don’t care about sizes and all that bullshit. You can have size X at Calvin Klein and size Y at Armani. And the word plus size is just a marketing technique, Y/N. I love your curves, I adore your love handles and your cellulite and you are just such a stunning woman. You get me rock hard with just one sway of those damn hips…”

His comment makes you laugh a little and you smile tenderly at your boyfriend. “You are an insanely talented artist and people come from very far to get their tattoos drawn by you. I’m the living proof of that!”

Dramatically, he gestures towards where the tattoo of his gold medal peaks out of his boxer briefs, then towards the matching tattoos he got with you on his ribcage and lastly he runs his hand down his left arm, his full tattoo sleeve.

“And yes, I’m insecure too. But do you know what I’m insecure about?”

You shake your head no and he leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips, or so you think. Instead his lips hover over yours and he leaves your hanging as he slants his lips across yours teasingly slow, whispering against them at a tantalising rhythm.

“I’m insecure about my body now I’m not competing professionally anymore. I’m worried that I might not stay in shape. But luckily I’ve got you to keep me fit.”

You chuckle warmly at his tongue-in-cheek remark and he squeezes your thigh, pecking your lips in a tender kiss. “I’m also very insecure about us, baby. Because, as you know, you’re too good person and I don’t deserve you.”

Another loving kiss in between words and he’s got your mind reeling. “But you’ve stuck with me for so long, I’m thinking you might actually really love me.”

“Of course I love you, Lance!,” you tell him straightaway, blurring all his insecurities by pressing your lips to his hard in a searing kiss. “I love you so much, so very much.”

“Then let’s make it official,” he mumbles to yours lips before engaging them in a second, passionate kiss. “I want a set of wedding rings tattooed on my body. I don’t care where, just as long as you do them.”

“Wedding rings?,” you squeak in sincere astonishment. “Wh- What – Are you – Are you proposing?”

“Do you want me to propose?,” he counteracts your jumbled statement with a classic, lopsided grin.

“Hell yes I want you to, Tucker,” you heave out in a sharp exhale, “It’s about time!”

He grins wickedly at you, softly laying you down onto the bed as he moves on top. “Then this is me proposing. I don’t have any rings yet, but I’ll make quick work of it. First thing Monday morning,” he promises as he ghosts his lips over your pulse point. “But that wedding ring tattoo…”

He stops his ministrations just as he reaches your sweet spot, that particular sensitive part of your neck that turns you into putty in his hands. “You’re taking me to the shop after breakfast and you’re drawing them.”

You lean your forehead to Lance’s, cupping his face in your hands. “O-Okay,” you croak out through the happy tears tingling your eyes. “You want me to do the tattoo as well?”

Lance wets his lips, holding his bottom lip captive between his teeth as he nods darkly. “Absolutely. The whole package.”

His fingertips dance over the swells of your breasts and down the valley of your belly button, breathing heavily against your lips. “So you’ll marry me?”

Tagging: @avengerofyourheart @a-little-hell-to-raise @marvelingatthewonder @mrshopkirk @hardcorehippos @knittingknerdy @winterboobaer @italwaysendsinafightt @viollettes @hymnofthevalkyrie @feelmyroarrrr @justareader @austinamelio @volklana @4theluvofall @themcuhasruinedme @theoneandonlysaucymo @caplanbuckybarnes @nenyakj @amrita31199 @emilyevanston @minervaem @howlingbarnes @buchananbarnestrash @youandb @you-and-bucky @fvckingsteverogers @thatawkwardtinyperson @that-sokovian-bastard @abovethesmokestacks @marvelrevival @marvel-fanfiction @justanotherbuckydevotee @barnes-heaven @heartmade-writingbucky @buckyywiththegoodhair @captnbarnesrogers @mellifluous-melodramas @its-not-a-phase-hux @melconnor2007 @ivvitm1109 @toofuckinfabulous @ailynalonso15 @hollycornish @delicatecapnerd @camigt1999 @learisa @curlyexpat @palaiasaurus64 @fanndas-snow-goddess @crisssivonne @yourenotrogers @tomhollandzs @supernaturaldean67 @beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep @aletheladyinred @beyondbarnes @xbergiex @reniescarlett @promarvelfangirl @capbuckybuchanan @lovemarvelousfics @yknott81 @rrwilson66 @pegasusdragontiger @salty-holographic-stickers @sammyissassy @sebstanchrisevanchickforever19 @kudosia @bellejeunefillesansmerci @lumelgy @mizzzpink @southernbellestatues @daringtodreamawake @neurotic-narwhal @cokamarie24 @blue1928 @movingonto-betterthings @breezy1415 @isnt-the-blog-youre-looking-for @jesspfly @weenie-butt @debzybrazy @fuckingchaotic @always-an-evans-addict @petersunderroos

Tag list for all plus size stories: @suz-123 @kiwi71281 @whatisaheroanyway @ilovebeingjoyful @veronicalei @meganlane84 @thescarsweleave @isaxhorror @pleasantdreamqueen @georgiadean37 @revlismoriarty @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @evyiione @salamander-falls @taylorjacksonandtheolympians @jughead-wuz-here @jasmineladjevardi @sonofadeanwinchester @3dsaunt @marvel-at-bucky @nothin-after-79 @sexy-sea-basss @shesmade0fcandy @breezy1415 @wtfisalltherandoms @mrs-dr-strange @disneymarina @secondsandstars @brandybucky @amethyst09

The whole package tag list: @nosleeptillbucky @missinstantgratification @yknott81 @katemcgraw @marveldcmistress @void-imaginations @the-red-world-of-jess-chibi @spiderman-2013 @3dsaunt @averystrainingwheels @geekyweed @lycanmomma @acunningstargazer

#the whole package #lance tucker #plus size reader #lance tucker x plus size!reader #lance tucker x plus size reader #lance tucker x plus size! reader

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linguisticparadox · 2 years ago

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Wellllllll...if you WANTED to invest in a flex-nib pen (or not flex nib I'll list some of them too)................you COULD follow me below the cut:

So as far as affordable flex nib pens, the number one recommendation you're gonna find is Noodler's brand. And they ARE a good budget choice, bc you can get the cheapest one for less than $20 (yes I know, but trust me, for a fountain pen with a flex nib that is actually stellar). But you'll want to be aware of a couple things: One, these are stimky babies (affectionate). This is due to them being made of a vegetable resin, which apparently is biodegradable? So there we go. Some people love the smell, especially bc I guess this material used to be common for pens, but others liken it to poop, so...to each their own I guess? To me it's just a bit weird. Leaving the pen in indirect sunlight for a couple of days will reduce the smell quite a bit, but it will never fully go away.

Another thing with Noodler's pens is they're made to be tinkered with! You're supposed to adjust the nib and feed to find a good balance of ink flow for you. Which means getting ink EVERYWHERE, unfortunately. So these are not for the faint of heart, and frankly are not really suitable for a total newbie. But they come up in every list of recommendations ever, so I figured I'd better address them. :)

I also have a Monteverde Monza, which I got bc it came in a set with interchangeable nib units, and was not super impressed by their omniflex nib...but later I got a Monteverde Ritma with omniflex nib (Goulet was running a sale), and I loved the omniflex nib on that (also the magnetic cap is so fuckin stimmy oml), so. Shrug!

More recently I discovered Fountain Pen Revolution, literally I think bc someone online was dragging Monteverde's omniflex nib and said smth like "just get an FPR nib for it" lmao. You can, like they said, get nibs there, both flex and non-flex, which you can put into any compatible pen (WATCH THE SIZES THO), and ofc you can get any of their pens with flex nibs already fitted.

Now, if you don't wanna fuss with a flex nib (which would really only be necessary for calligraphy and Pitman's shorthand):

So full disclosure, I've only been collecting fountain pens for a little bit (and only kinda cheap ones so far so nothing SUPER fancy, just getting my toes wet), BUT my mom was forced to write with them all thru school (catholic school in the 60s u kno) so she knows them VERY well. I had her test my collection a little bit ago, and her fav of the ones I had at the time was the Lamy Safari. It's for sure a bit of a splurge at ~$30* (although again, for a good fountain pen that's a goddamn bargain) but it writes like a dream! It comes with one ink cartridge, too, so if $30+ink is too much all at once you can always wait to get the ink! You can also get a converter that will let you use bottled ink, but if you aren't used to fountain pens I'd just stick to cartridges, at least at first.

Another excellent option, which I've even seen sold at stores like OfficeDepot and fucking Meijer here in the states, is the Pilot Metropolitan. Still a splurge at close to $20, but it comes with BOTH an ink cartridge AND a squeeze converter, so you can experiment with using cartridges vs bottled ink. For the latter, you can buy ink samples on the site I've been linking (gouletpens.com) for like a couple dollars, so you don't have to buy a big bottle only to decide it's not for you. You can even get a random sample for $1.50!

If you want smth cheap (less than $5) but still good, and if you don't wanna fuck around with filling the damn thing (which is not a bad thought if this is your first fountain pen), the Pilot Varsity is an excellent disposable! You can even get it in a multicolor pack, so tbh if you're someone who does colorful notes or wants to use them in art or smth this would actually be the best option. I've gotten those in stores before too (like I said: CHEAP, plus ofc Pilot is a well-known brand at all price levels) so depending on where you live you might well find them without having to fuck with shipping! And I can confirm they are excellent pens!

If you want smth cheap on the level of the Varsity and also just a little whimsical, that ALSO lets you fuck around with cartridges and bottled ink, I'm also fairly smitten with this shark pen! :3 It can also be converted to be filled with an eyedropper if you go thru ink really fast or if you're insane (I am, and I did, altho I haven't experimented with it yet). Note that it does NOT come with ANY ink, cartridge or otherwise, so make sure and get some. They also have little sets that come with a shark pen, 3 ink samples, and a little notebook with fountain-pen-friendly paper (not a bad idea even if you don't plan to use the notebook, bc then if your pen doesn't write well you can make sure it's not just your paper), for $10!

I also see the Platinum Preppy recommended a lot for a cheap cartridge/converter/eyedropper pen. I don't really care for it (It looks, feels, and writes kind of cheap), but there ya go.

Oh I almost forgot! I got a Zebra V-301 at Walgreens years ago, and it's quite a good cartridge pen!

Ummmm anyway! I've been linking to gouletpens.com bc I love them and they always include a little tootsie pop in my order 🥺 but jetpens.com is also excellent and I have bought from them before, as well. Both sites have guides to pens and stuff that are super worth checking out! Here are some you may find handy: https://www.jetpens.com/blog/The-Best-Beginner-Fountain-Pens/pt/862 https://blog.gouletpens.com/the-best-fountain-pens-under-25/ https://www.jetpens.com/blog/The-Best-Pens-for-Note-Taking/pt/985 https://blog.gouletpens.com/best-fountain-pens-for-students/

* If anybody wants to come be all snooty abt how 'lol $30 is nothing for a good fountain pen' try getting fucked instead 😌

for fanart purposes:

what system of shorthand does mina likely use?

#dracula #dracula daily #mina harker #fountain pens

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callistochan87 · 5 years ago

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Layover Are Hell, Part I Don’t Remember What Part We’re On Any More

“Would you RATHER I let her choke on her own teeth?” he says, pulling out what looks to be a water bottle; something rattles inside it, “Because she would have absolutely done that.”

I’ll give my healing abilities credit: it’s like having your mouth numbed; I can feel new teeth regenerating in the same, distant way I can barely feel it when they drill for cavities, a slight pain a long distance away, a feeling of cold as raw nerves are exposed to air, but if I clench my hands into fists and focus on the two of them I can get through it. Teeth are small and easy to regenerate; the leg will take longer. Stephen obviously has had some basic medical training, so it looks to be splinted, the blood seeping through the wrappings, which is a small blessing. It’ll make the healing process faster, assuming the bone isn’t in an awkward position. My mouth tastes like blood and latex.

“Guyth,” I say, drool coming out of the side of my mouth; I wipe it in the back of my hand and it comes back bloody, “Guyth I need to ninth and ‘pit here.”

“Just spit on the ground,” Stephen says, throwing his hands up; the flask rattles, “Don’t matter at this point.”

“I need water.”

He pauses. “Not sure I have that to be honest.”

“Then what’s that?” Di says, gesturing to something I can’t see while bloody drool trickles out of my mouth. I run my tongue along my gums. Sharp nibs are starting to jut out from the gumline, popping through the empty sockets, and it burns.

“This?” he says, pulling out what looks to be a vacuum-sealed coffee mug, which I suppose COULD look like a water bottle if you didn’t get a clear look at it.

“Yeah.”

“Whiskey,” he says; as if remembering he has it, he presses the button and takes a swig, “I used to put coffee in there to hide the smell, but fuck it, I can only take so much caffeine jitters in a day.”

I blink.

“Wait,” I slur, “Ben was sin the ober bodle?”

“Oh, this?” he says, “Empty. I used to put water in there but…” he grimaces, “Got tired of lugging two of ‘em around so hydration went out the window. I put your teeth in there. It’s a wide-mouth one, so…”

He pops open the flask lid and shakes out the contents: my teeth, pearly white, far too many of them.

“You have VERY pointy canines,” he points out, gesturing to those teeth in particular, “Like, weirdly so, vampire-so.”

“Or, you bow,” I say, because I’ve told him a thousand time if I’ve told him once, “Abimal-bike. Like, I bon’t now, a LIONESS?”

He blinks. “Look, I’ll buy that maybe The Lioness IS an Egyptian god. Dunno why she’s in the States, but whatever. But she’s not LITERALLY an animal, and neither are you. I just said your canine teeth were pointy.”

“Bo,” I say in agreement, I try to stand but I feel woozy, “But its comblicaded. Da more human stuff I lose, da more the goddess side comes out, an da goddess has animal-like traits. Like pointy teef.”

I can feel them coming in now. I mean, it’s GOOD the process is so quick, it’s good I’m not gumming down a liquid diet for a couple of weeks, it’s just…very painful. No wonder babies scream so damn much; it hurts.’ I run my tongue along the new teeth again. Sure enough, it’s coming in more animal like. The canines feel a bit bigger than they were before, although the front incisors are a normal size. I hope this isn’t going to fuck up my mouth. The upper canines might make me look like a vampire, but try closing your mouth when your lower canines are equally long and pointy. I have an image of myself like some sort of warthog, with the big horns, and it’s not flattering.

Stephen is still examining the teeth in his hand with an odd look on his face. “Whatever, you lost a fuck-ton of them that I think it’d be worth just pulling the rest and getting dentures in, there are too many gone for a bridge—“ he grimaces at the thought, then moves to put the teeth back in the empty water bottle, like a morbid memento, “I know it’s not ideal but at least you’re alive. Look, just come by my office, I’ll do it pro bono for you, I’ll eat the cost of the dentures, I mean—you did save my ass there, least I could…”

He looks up. My teeth haven’t fully sprouted yet, but enough that he can see they’re there. His eyes go even wider, jaw dropping. I don’t like that. That look usually precedes some sort of “experiment” to see what I can do, and I don’t feel like it right now.

“…do.”

Kinesis was, in some ways, a blessing for her: the paparazzi stopped giving a shit about her when there was explosions and motorcycles and drama to cover, and she was fine with that. Oh sure, occasionally she’d see the errant cover of THE DAILY GLOBE proclaiming “Luca Harris LEFT OUT of father’s will,” or, “Luca Harris FALLOUT with family,” or—someone must have been struggling to churn something out before a deadline—“Luca Harris DATING Kinesis; Father disapproves!”

THAT one had been amusing. Her father had made some phone calls and shut THAT one down fast.

The whole thing suited Luca just fine, though. It gave her time to decompress and not focus on being a Harris, which carried certain responsibilities. That was probably also why she liked her job, too: it gave concrete results. It was simple: punch in, punch out. Her father had been, perhaps, disappointed at first, that with all the fortune he’d amassed his only child was studying to become a dental hygienist—not even a proper doctor, a community college grad, practical hands-on program—but the more he’d thought about it, the more he’d warmed to the thought: he’d started out in a practical trade as a pharmacy tech—it’d be good to have a solid backup career rather than the ephemeral nature of heirdom, marketing, and business—Luca liked working with her hands an she had friends there—and so he was quite supportive. It was trying to convince her mother that proved tricky.

#writing #wip

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drinkhv · 6 years ago

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Never mind the Super Bowl, Beer Advocate’s Extreme Beer Fest takes over the Seaport World Trade Center in Boston this weekend on Friday and Saturday, February 1st and 2nd, 2019. I first attended this amazing festival last year as a brewery rep, and over two days still wasn’t able to try everything I wanted to. This year, returning solely for fun, I knew I had to make a plan of attack. Over 400 different beers from 120+ breweries is too damn much for one regular 3 ½ hour session, and so this list was born, highlighting the beers I most want to try. Keep in mind I’m leaning towards big stouts, especially barrel aged, barleywines, breweries I’ve never tried before, generally not available in the NYC area, and beers that just seem downright insane that were brewed one time for this event.

Seeing as this took me a few hours, I figured why not share it, as I’m sure some other people might appreciate going in with a little bit of a plan. Breweries are listed alphabetically for easy lookup on the fly. If I could offer a few other tips, go in with food in your stomach, drink water throughout, use the buddy system for waiting on line/getting beer and get the beers you MUST try as soon as possible. Enjoy the show and hopefully BA will add a combo ticket to get a Saturday session with Friday too at a small discount next year, I know I would buy one! Got a beer I shouldn’t miss? Hit me up at DrinkHV @ Gmail.com!

450 North These guys have a lot of hype coming in hot from Indiana, especially with their Slushy series, which will probably go quick. Sushy Peach Dessert- Berliner Weisse with peaches, vanilla, cinnamon, lactose, graham crackers and brown sugar Flap Jack Nuggets- Milk stout with maple syrup, cinnamon, brown sugar and lactose Slushy XXL triple berry-Berliner Weisse with blueberries, blackberries and raspberries Against The Grain Can’t wait to see what the subversive ATG crew does this year after pissing off a lot of people with their short order diner-style order taking system for samples last year. Meta Boost- 11% beer they claim is both stimulant and depressant with capsaicin (hot pepper) and adaptogens (de-stressing herbs) 1776- Dark Ale with molasses and herbs Aslin Enjoyed Aslin’s no-frills booth approach last year with literally a jockey box and that’s it. The beers however are all-frills, get some early. Genius Kitchen- 15% imperial stout with Nutella, coffee, maple, cinnamon & strawberry Time for That- Barleywine with blueberry, brown sugar, cinnamon & vanilla Baxter Bourbon Barrel Wickid Dark- 10% stout with cinnamon, hazelnuts, cocao nibs, black and chipotle peppers. Rum Barrel Innuendo- 10.5% imperial white stout with cacao, coffee, vanilla beans and lactose aged in rum barrels. Beer Tree Love trying a new NY state brewery, these guys from Port Crane are bringing some interesting brews Double pineapple coconut Creamsicle- Double NEIPA milkshake style minus the lactose Fruita Con Tajin- sour conditioned on mango, cucumber, chipotle and lime Scoby Snacks- low abv ale brewed with raspberry, passion fruit, ginger, lemon and kombucha scoby Black Hog Leaves a Mark- peanut butter- 11.5% imperial stout with real jars of peanut butter Citra Seltzer IPA- 2% super session brut ipa as close to beer seltzer as they could make. No body, no haze just hops and bubbles. Brownie Inception- Wake up Leo this is a brown ale made with brownies made with the brown ale before it had brownies added. Best movie beer award. Boston Beer Co. (Sam Adams) Utopias- this is traditionally a timed release, so check in to see when they start pouring. How could you not get a couple of ounces of Utopias poured for you from a pitcher? The value alone is worth about half your ticket. Brewery Vivant Another big buzz brewery from Michigan, bringing some nicely named unique beers Emergency PTA Meeting- Mezcal barrel aged smoke beer with ancho peppers Wizard Burial Ground- one of the few Belgian style quads at the show, aged in bourbon barrels Burley Oak Maryland’s new sour darlings, get those JREAMS early or you will have nightmares about missing them. Gnarly Waffles- imperial stout brewed with waffles Apple Pie JREAM- sour with flavors of apple pie Cambridge Brewing Company The local guys always get super crazy for EBF Burnt Weeny Sandwich- named after Frank Zappa’s favorite snack (and one of his albums), it’s a smoked cream ale with mustard, charred hot dogs and toasted buns!!! Best music reference award. Banryu Ichi- 15% beer-sake strong ale aged on sugi wood Civil Society Look for the huge line and you’ll find Civil Society from Florida Bulkshake- milkshake IPA with strawberry, raspberry, blueberry and vanilla BA Bella- rum barrel aged imperial stout with maple & cinnamon Crooked Hammock Banana Hammock- 15% belgian quad with bananas and roasted cacao nibs DC Brau Pickled Pils- pickle juice pilsner Third Eye- 2.25% kombucha pilsner radler Dewey’s Beer Co. Nashville Hot Fried Chicken and Waffles- 10% stout with waffles, fried chicken, spicy honey and maple syrup conditioned on piri piri peppers Secret Machine Tiramisu- Berliner Weisse conditioned on boysenberry, blueberry, coffee, ladyfingers, vanilla and organic cacao Dogfish Head Mother Tree- 11% barleywine aged in bourbon barrels and brewed with elderberry, maple syrup, cinnamon tree leaves and black walnuts Possibly The Next Top Rated Beer on Beer Advocate- EBF collab beer 9% Brewed with maple syrup, toasted coconut, lactose, vanilla beans, cocoa powder, & cold-pressed coffee. Served with an optional dose of hops-infused glitter whipped cream. Down the Road Pickle Man- spicy dill pickle sour collab that has a tremendous local Mass. cult following Due South Trench Toast- Imperial Stout with spices, crafted to taste like a couple of slices of french toast Breakfast Trench- Imperial Stout made with spices and coffee, to recreate an early morning breakfast of a coffee roll Epic Big Bad Bbaptista- 12% Whiskey Barrel-aged Imperial Stout with Coffee, Cacao, Vanilla & Cinnamon Quadrupel Barrel Big Bad Bbaptista- Imperial Stout aged in Whiskey and Rum barrels with roasted cacao, barrel-aged coffee, barrel-aged almonds, & barrel-aged coconut Exhibit A These guys have been getting a lot of accolades as the new kids in Mass. Testify- This imperial stout was aged in Elijah Craig bourbon barrels for one year Cake!- brewed with cinnamon coffee cake, cinnamon, vanilla and light roast coffee Finback 2018 Bourbon Barrel Aged BQE- Salty Caramel- Chocolate, Coffee Stout with Sea Salt and Caramel Firestone Walker Firestone’s barrel aged beers are to die for, or in this case, to wait on line for, especially these rare variants. Mole Merkin- Barrel Aged Imperial Stout with chili, cinnamon, & cocoa nibs Old Man Hattan- a barrel-aged mashup of two classic drinks: the Old Fashioned & the Manhattan! The base beer is a blend of Velvet Merkin, Bravo & Stickee Monkee aged in whiskey barrels. The twist comes from select lots of Parabola & Helldorado that were aged in Woodford Reserve barrels previously used to mature cherry bitters, orange bitters & aromatic bitters. Four Quarters Pickleback- Heaven Hill aged table beer conditioned on honeydew, cucumbers, and fresh dill. Waffle Star- imperial stout with lactose, maple syrup, and coffee, conditioned on toasted waffles and bourbon barrel-aged maple syrup Great Divide Chocolate cherry Yeti- a new variant on the classic imperial stout with cacao and sweet and sour cherries Barrel aged Hibernation- 10.5% Old age aged 12 months in whiskey barrels Great Notion Portland, Oregon’s hype beasts bringing two of the most sought after beers in the trading scene with 4.5 BA ratings. Double Stack-11% imperial stout brewed with an irresponsible amount of maple syrup & aged on whole bean Sumatra coffee Blueberry Muffin- Berliner Weisse meets blueberry muffin Gun Hill PB and Void- GABF award-winning export stout with what sounds like every legal sidestep of ‘Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups’ from the description Ft Ticonderoga Barrel Aged Barleywine- 11.5 % aged 10 months in rum barrels and fortified with molasses, toffee, almond croissants, macerated cherries, prunes, and rum balls Jack’s Abby Gingerbread Barrel Aged Framinghammer- 12% gingerbread variant of their solid baltic porter series aged in bourbon barrels Jackie O’s Bourbon Barrel Dark Apparition - 12.8% imperial stout aged on Vanilla & Coffee Beans Port Dark Apparition- 10% imperial stout aged in port barrels for over a year Carrots and Sticks- 13.9 % strong ale brewed with walnuts, spices, lemon zest and raisins that was fermented with carrot puree, conditioned on vanilla beans and aged for 14 months in bourbon barrels Kane This is a double liner with these two and also BB aged Sunday Brunch and Mexican Brunch. One of the first booths out of beer last year. A Night To End All Dawns- S’mores- Bourbon Barrel Aged Imperial Stout with cocoa nibs, graham cracker and marshmallow A Night To End All Dawns- Peanut Butter Cup- 12% Bourbon Barrel Aged Imperial Stout with peanut butter and cocoa nibs

Lord Hobo Caviar Godmother- 12% imperial stout Godmother kissed with kilos of caviar Lost Abbey Dead Man’s Game- 15% Blended Belgian strong dark ale aged in Rum and Bourbon barrels Mortalis Looking forward to trying these crazy concoctions from this NYS brewery I’ve not yet had Icarus w Golden Ggrahams- 10% golden imperial stout aged on Golden Grahams and cold steeped with coffee Milk of the Gods Strawberry Cheesecake IPA- milkshake style with Vanilla, Graham Crackers and Strawberries New England Brewing Company Bourbon Barrel Imperial Stout Trooper- O.G. cease and desist imperial stout Fluffy Puppies- Mixed Fermentation IPA with Citra, Galaxy and Mosaic hops debuting at the fest Night Shift El Lechador- 10.5% Horchata-style milk stout aged in bourbon barrels with poblano peppers, cinnamon, nutmeg & vanilla beans with a hint of pepper and a splash of bourbon Marilyn- 11.9% Blonde barleywine-style ale aged in rye barrels The North Worked next to these guys from upstate NY last year and enjoyed their stuff Trap Klouds- 4.5% extremely thick stout brewed with lactose, vanilla, marshmallow & almond God Complex- 9.5% Hazelnut Mocha Chilli Stout RAR 10 Layer- Dessert Ale with coconut, macadamia nuts, lactose and vanilla Relic Caribbean Kettle- 11.5% barleywine aged on rum soaked oranges Kola- 10% imperial porter brewed with kola nuts and kola syrup Right Brain These guys are bringing 8 pretty extreme beers from Michigan, these are the three I’m zeroing in on Apple Pie Whole- Amber ale fermented with real whole apple pies Johnny’s Lunchbox- Brown ale brewed with house-made peanut butter, grape jelly puree and donuts Thai Peanut- Pad Thai-inspired brown ale with house-made peanut butter including coconut, Thai chilis, dry-hopped cilantro, and a touch of lime. Spicy yet balanced Pist. Avocado- Milk stout with real avocados with a nutty aroma & finish from house-made pistachio butter

Sierra Nevada Barrel Aged Maltiple Personalities- Bourbon Barrel-aged Imperial Brown Ale with Carolina Reaper peppers 3 Become 1- 10.5% Whiskey Barrel-aged Imperial Lager with ginger and cayenne Sixpoint Horchata Beans- 13% horchata inspired bourbon barrel aged imperial porter with tiger nut, cinnamon & coconut Master Blend- 13.8% imperial stout aged a year in first-use bourbon barrels Solemn Oath BBA Coconut Goldmund - Barrel-Aged Mexican Hot Chocolate Stout w/ Coconut Unholy Water- Tartshake IPA with mango, tamarind, lime zest, and coconut to create a sweet and sour refreshing encounter with many layers Somerville (Slumbrew) Saturday Morning- 9.2% tripel with Captain Crunch cereal, cherry puree, blueberry puree Springdale Grain Reaper- 12.7% American Barleywine-style ale aged seven months in ex-bourbon barrels Throwback Fat Alberta- 10% Chocolate Peanut Butter Imperial Stout made with cocoa husks and peanuts BBQ Campfire- BBQ pork rub-infused smoked robust porter Transient Grainbro Connection- Rye barleywine. Muppets, yeah? Velvet Sea- 15% Imperial stout aged in bourbon barrels blended with whiskey Foeder aged imperial stout Trophy Monkey Way- Salted Caramel Sweet Stout fermented on an outrageous amount of bananas Weldwerks Looking forward to trying beers for the first time from this buzz brewery out of Colorado Mexican medianoche- 14% imperial stout aged in Woodford Reserve Rye Whiskey barrels for 20 months, then aged on Papua New Guinea and Madagascar vanilla beans, Vietnamese cinnamon sticks and Ghanan cacao nibs Coffee Maple Aromatic- Imperial stout with tons of chocolate malt, huge additions of maple syrup, and Peruvian coffee DDH Juicy Bits- NEIPA with Citra, Mosaic and El Dorado

#extreme beer fest #extremebeerfest #craftbeer #beer #fest #boston #beeradvocate #beer advocate #EBF #2019 #ebf2019

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themadlostgirl · 8 years ago

Text

Not Dead Yet (Part 21)

*Thank you all for 200 followers! Here’s a special treat. This gonna be good.*

Pairing: Reader x Peter Pan

Warning: language

The next couple of days was like walking on eggshells. Peter and Felix weren’t speaking to each other and it affected the entire camp. What should have been a joyous return had turned sour far too quickly. The boys looked to me for answers but I could give them none. This was a problem that needed to be worked out amongst themselves. Felix was a devoted Lost Boy, Peter’s best friend. This surely couldn’t last that long.

As it turned out I was right for a change. One morning Felix and Peter were as thick as thieves once again. “Glad to see they worked things out,” Devin nodded to them, “What was it that had them against each other in the first place?”

“If I could tell you I would.” I sighed, “I’m just glad it’s over. Those two as enemies doesn’t work.”

“It was uneasy. Can you really not tell me anything? Anything at all?”

“It’s Peter, you know I can’t.”

“That’s another thing. When did you start calling him Peter?” I clammed up immediately. Since getting back I had gone back and forth between calling him Peter and Pan. Back at camp I was used to calling him Pan but after our time by ourselves calling him Peter slipped out. I know I asked to call him by his first name but the boys didn’t know that. All they knew was that I was acting far chummier with him than even Felix dared.

“What really happened in the Enchanted Forest?” he pressed.

“I--I can’t!”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Both!”

“What happened that you can’t tell me? I thought I was your best friend.”

“You are!”

“Then why can’t you trust me?”

“I do! You know I could trust you with anything.”

“Then trust me!”

“Come on,” I pulled him up and dragged him deep into the jungle. When we were in the least trodden part of the jungle I stopped. Peter couldn’t follow me everywhere but I was still worried he might emerge from thin air.

“What I am going to tell you is told in the strictest confidence. You breathe a single word of this to anyone or even back to me after this time I will toss you into the mermaid lagoon with a boulder tied to your feet! Understand?”

“Yes, yes, now what happened in the Enchanted Forest?”

So I told him. Not everything but more than I know I should have dared. How I had gotten into some trouble and tried to run away with a magic bean and how Peter had chased after me, the long talks we shared and the fun we shared. Even so I couldn’t tell him exactly what we talked about or just how much fun we had. Those were memories for Peter and I alone.

“So that’s all it took? A couple days alone and you two are as cozy as hares in a hollow.” Devin chuckled, “How does that happen?”

“I wouldn’t say that’s all it took and we are not cozy. We’re friends at the most, nothing cozy about it. Why would you say it’s cozy?” I shot defensively.

“Well, you two do act far nicer to each other than I’ve ever seen you before.”

“Nice doesn’t equal cozy.”

“Maybe nice doesn’t but the way you two are always reclining on each other is. Also how you’ll jump on him like you do with us and the way he picks you up out of nowhere, it is very intimate behaviour.”

“Intimate? We’ve gone from cozy to intimate? How and why?”

“I’m just telling you what it looks like. Is there possibly something else that went down while you two--”

“No! Nothing happened!” He started smiling at me. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I just didn’t peg you for the type.”

“What type? What are you talking about?”

“The rumour going around.”

“What rumour?”

“Well there’s this rumour, not really a rumour more like a whispering that you and Pan weren’t missing but rather on holiday.” he was avoiding meeting my eyes, “That you two were away for some extended time alone.”

“The boys think we were gone because we were…” I felt like I was going to puke. “Why do they think that?”

“I--I don’t know, honest. I heard it from Sam who said he heard it from Curly who said he overheard Pan telling Felix that the real reason you were gone was for you-know-what.”

“I am going to kill him.” I stormed off. I could feel my skin tingling with just how mad I was right now. I do everything for him. I keep his secrets. I let him know he could trust me as a friend and how does he repay me? To reduce me down to nothing but a shag!

“PETER!” I shouted to the sky.

The air shifted and Peter was now standing in front of me, “You had better have cut yourself with dreamshade to order me here. I was just about to beat Nibs in--”

I socked him in the stomach with my club. He dropped down to his knees. I clenched his face in my hand so hard I was shaking. “You complete and utter shithole!”

“I’m sure you’re right but may I ask why?” He let out a long wheeze. “I think you broke something.”

“Maybe it’ll give you some good incentive to not lie to me.” I dug my fingernails into his cheek and tilted his head up so he was staring straight at me, “Why is it there’s a rumour going around that the real reason we were missing was because we were off having sex?”

“Ah…” he pried my hand off, “About that--”

“Why?!” I screeched, “What was so wrong with the explanation I gave the boys?”

“Nothing.” Peter stood to his full height again, “But Felix didn’t buy it, you know he didn’t. I knew I couldn’t have him against me so I gave him a more believable version.”

“Believable?” I turned my club over in my hands, “You couldn’t win back his respect so you threw me under? You didn’t give a second thought about reducing me to nothing but one of your flings! Let me get this straight right now, I am not one of your whores that you can play off so easily. I have worked too hard to earn these boys’ respect and I am not going to let your pride ruin that!”

“It wasn’t like I meant for all the others to hear.” he groaned, “Plus, I hardly doubt that them believing we had sex for a week is going to make them respect you any less.”

“You really aren’t getting it are you?” I shook my head, “If we really had then maybe I would think about this a little differently. After all as you’ve proven we all have carnal needs and there shouldn’t be any shame in sating those.”

This seemed to surprise him and he took a step forward, “So then...what’s the problem?”

“It’s a lie! If it was true I could at least wear it without any shame cause girls get urges too and the fact that I sated mine on you says a little more than you just coercing me into bed.”

“I prefer the term seducing--”

“I don’t give a damn what you prefer!” I shoved him angry tears rushing hot out of my eyes, “You took everything we did, the friendship we created back in the Enchanted Forest, and morphed it into nothing! Is that all I am in the end? Just a means to your ends like everyone else?”

“Of course not.” he reached for me but stopped when I flinched away. “What do you want me to do? I can’t exactly take it back, no one would believe me at this point.”

“Nothing. Just leave me alone. You got your second in command back you obviously don’t need me.” I began to leave when his arms wrapped around me pulling me back. I struggled against him trying to push him away but he wouldn’t let me go. I reached for my dagger but he beat me to it and threw it away along with my club.

“Let me go!” I screamed, “I don’t want to talk to you!”

“Not until you say you forgive me.” he murmured in my ear.

“I’m not playing this game with you!” I kicked hard at his shins, “I am not a pawn in your stupid games!”

He pushed me into a tree pressing me with his body so I couldn’t fight back. “I mean it! Let me go!”

“No. You need to say you forgive me first.”

“Why do you care if I forgive you?”

“Cause you’re my friend!” he stressed and I paused my struggling. He was staring at me intently. “You’re my friend, Y/N. I have always found you strong and dedicated and smart with an iron-will and bravery that goes often into brash stupidity. You know I’d never put you in a situation I didn’t think you could handle. Felix may be my second in command and a good friend but you’re the one that I trust the most. I know this because even though I know I can make you hate me, utterly despise me, you would never betray what I confided in you with or without the looming death threat.”

The words struck hard. I wanted to not believe him. To call him a liar and run but that would have been the lie. That pleading look in his eyes was more proof than I needed. “So, do you forgive me now?”

My arms went slack at my sides. “Can’t you just let me hate you?”

He smirked at me in triumph, “Where would the fun be then?” He stepped back to let me go.

I collected my things from the ground. Peter was still standing by watching me. My heart was still beating quickly in my chest. While my blood was up I turned back to him and pulled him down to peck his lips. We stared at each other in shock. What had I just done?

“W-Well,” he cleared his throat, “Just can’t keep your hands off me. Care to explain what that was about?”

That is a great question! Do I have an answer that makes sense? Anything at all? “I um…” I took a deep breath, “I am not a liar. If the boys want to believe their silly notions about me then so be it but I will not have those notions be false.”

He smirked wider at me as if he had one some grand prize. “Don’t go getting a bigger head than you already have.” I grinned back, “If the boys want to believe this rumour then I am not going to stop them. But I would rather have some weight to those rumours outside of a drunken make out.”

He gave a short laugh. “Is that all it took? Some sincere words and a rumour and you’re seduced?”

“I wouldn’t say seduced. Especially not to the point to want to crawl into bed with you but this wouldn’t be objected.” I leaned closer but he was the one to close the distance as he kissed me back, “You may act like an insufferable codfish but you certainly don’t kiss like one.”

“Nor do you Lost Girl.” He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me back in. “Nor do you.”

~~~

Peter hadn’t expected this. Especially not from Y/N. After their wine induced make out back in the Enchanted Forest he was sure that was the start and end of it. But she just kept surprising him. First with the rough kiss the morning after and now this? One moment she’s yelling at him and the next she’s throwing herself at him. Just more to add to her contradictory character he supposed. She was certainly being all kinds of bold lately and he was not going to complain.

Try as he might have Peter couldn’t deny that Y/N was an attractive girl. Maybe not entirely in the traditional sense as she was a Lost Girl. She wore battered and ragged clothes stained with mud and grass and blood, and no matter how many dips in the pond she took there was always dust on her face. But it was the wild tangle of her hair and the dark underlying danger and bloodlust in her eye that made her attractive. She was like a viper. If you got too close you had two options, run like hell before she struck or reach out and pray she didn’t bite.

He had reached out and she had struck just not in the way he thought she would. Rougher this time and way more passionate than before his lips melded against hers. Both his hands were now wound tightly in her hair looking for a tether. She let out a small gasp and his tongue slipped between her lip into her mouth tasting her deeper.

He groaned against her lips. Whatever rational thought he had flew out the window as he soaked her in. Her smooth skin, her warm body, the sweet taste of her lips and the soft thread of her hair.

“Peter…” she whispered in a husky voice he hadn’t heard before that caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end.

“Shush,” he claimed her lips again, “For right now don’t say a thing.”

And she didn’t. Overhead the sky grew clear and the sun shone brighter than it had before. It was a romantic sight to those who didn’t know better. They knew though. And there was one thing for certain that was screaming in both their minds: things were never going to be the same between them again.

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#and i said unto myself let my readers have a break #i really should make a masterlist #peter pan ouat #ouat peter pan #peter pan imagine #neverland #ouat #peter pan x reader #slowburn

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