Second Star to the Right: PrologueSecond Star to the Right: Prologue1 year ago in Romance More Like This
Second Star to the Right: Prologue
In the beautiful realm of Neverland yet another sun began to set, leaving the sky a mixture of brilliant pinks, oranges, and a dapple blood red.
From the deck of the infamous Jolly Roger, a single man stood gazing up at the skyline, lost deep in thought. True, he had seen more than his fair share of sunrises and sunsets, but never before had there been so much red.
With solemn eyes, Captain James Hook watched as the vibrant color soaked up the clouds like a sponge and spread to every visible corner of the sky. It was a breathtaking sight, if only the man had actually been focused on the colorful goodbye of the sun. But in truth, his mind was far beyond the subtle novelties of such a natural occurrence.
Originally, the pirate had come out onto the deck to gain purchase to his thoughts, and find a quiet space. And instead of going to his cabin, he had opted for the deck. For it was once more the
Wendy and Peter PanLet's pretend for a whileWendy and Peter Pan9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
So in our pain we can smile
As we got to a place where we're happy
I'll be Wendy
And you'll be Peter Pan
Take my hand
Sprinkle fairy dust on me from Tinkerbell
So I can fly with you out of this hell
Let's be Wendy and Peter Pan
Flying off to Neverland
To leave this world behind
With no sorrow in mind
I am Wendy
And you are Peter Pan
Holding hands as we fly to Neverland
Leaving Captain Hook in reality
Unable to fire his cannons at us
To make us crash and burn
Peter Panxx - o1 - xxxxPeter Pan8 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
He's dirty. Filthy clothes, filthy habits, filthy manners. I can see the grime beneath his fingernails when he walks, when he speaks; it's all I see. Dirt beneath his fingernails. I wonder who he really is.
There is nothing nice about him. Nothing to like about him. His voice is rough, his hair is matted. He never takes care of himself because no one tells him he's worth it. Everyone is worth it. But no one tells him. No one.
xx - o2 - xxxx
A ribbon is braided into his hair. Blue, like his eyes, like mine. I don't ask about it, I won't. Still no one tells him he is better than he thinks. Better than they think. Better than I think.
There's still dirt beneath his fingernails.
xx - o3 - xxxx
I realize he likes trees. This will continue to prove problematic for some time.
xx - o4 - xxxx
He seems to be clever. Completely uneducated, but intelligent. I can't reason with him, I can't philosophize with him, but I can feel for him. I can reach him. I read the pain in his eyes be
Peter Pan and TinkerbellPeter Pan and Tinkerbell4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Peter Pan and Tinkerbell
For years and years
You were always there
With your nose against the window
And your wing against my cheek
And your hand against my finger
And your will against my dream
And your glare against my grin
And your light against my dark
And your life against my mouth
And your heart against my heart
You would steal my sorrow when
Around my ear you curled
It was you against my nothing
And us against the world.
For My Peter PanLike Wendy, I waited by the windowFor My Peter Pan10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Waiting for you, my Peter Pan.
Holding on, to empty memories
Childish games and worries.
Like Peter, you came to the window
Asking for your shadow and your toys
You barely noticed how much I'd missed you
You never really noticed.
Like Wendy, my heart was always open
Open to give you love, my Peter Pan
You never much cared for my affection
You were too young to understand how deep it was.
Like Peter, gay, innocent, and heartless
You fly back into the window of my life.
You sit down on the floor and sob,
I cannot comfort you.
Like Wendy, Gone are the days when my fancy
Let me dream of holding you mornings and evenings in bed.
Making buttery pancakes and spaghetti dinners
For us in out little house on the hill.
Perhaps like Peter, you will live in a little boys world forever.
But I think you will die, lonely and dreaming of brown-eyed children
And a young girl who loved you,
Before she grew up.
Rumbelle WeekDay 1: MagicRumbelle Week2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
She had wanted to let in sunlight.
Rumpelstiltskin had allowed the silly notion, if only to keep her from falling off the ladder again. But as the days went by he started to reconsider, his house, hardly a home, was far too warm now and especially too bright. There was a reason he covered the windows to begin with you know.
Then Belle came in carrying the tray of afternoon tea. There was nothing special about this and yet there was.
Each time Belle walked in front of one of the windows she simply shimmered, more beautifully then the day he took her from her home as she wore her golden dress. Her hair shined far more radiant then the thread of gold between his fingers. As if these things weren't enough her smile, directed at him of all things, along with her eyes, so warm and open with her feelings, sparkled as she announced it was time for him to take a break and join her for tea.
Darkness had surrounded Rumpelstiltskin for so long he had forgotten the magic of sunl
Otherworld: The End?Kriss gathered with the rest of the heroes when it was decided for all them to return home. She heard the reason why Vigil was against them assisting the rebels of this dimension in the first place.Otherworld: The End?1 year ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Upon their return, Kriss did not stick around with the others. Aside from getting in touch with the Order, she wanted to mediate on the decision that was obviously not a unanimous one despite no protest. If Vigil was right about the balance between the two dimensions, would the rebellion Kriss and the others assisted face severe retaliation from the criminal syndicate that could result in their annihilation? Do they sacrifice thousands of lives to save billions?
Kriss was no stranger to moral dilemmas. Given all that had came about during their time in the alternate world, one could question if it was all in vain. Finding the self-confidence to overcome doubt in yourself as Spark Maiden did, making a better life for another like Chill had, or, in the case of Captain Cape's case, makin
To My Dearest Peter PanDear Peter,To My Dearest Peter Pan11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
take me away.
take me so very far away,
to your never neverland,
so that i will never ever have to grow up.
My Dearest Peter Pan,
let me kiss the stars with you.
Let me kiss your rosy lips,
and let the stars witness my devotion
to the never-ending love
of my childhood.
My Dearest Peter,
i'm still waiting for you
to come through my window,
just as you did when i was a young babe.
Dear Mr. Pan,
i've waited and waited,
and i watch my window every night
just in hopes
that i'll see your mischevious shadow
lurking in on me,
as he did in those long ago days.
To My Dearest Mr. Peter Pan,
I don't think you're coming.
I've started to give up all hope
of ever seeing you again.
Never again will I be able to
caress your hand or kiss your soft lips.
I suppose this is where I say,
growing up can't be all bad.
I wish i could,
but i can't without lying to you.
This is addressed to a Mr. Peter Pan,
in hopes that someday,
he will come and sweep me off my feet.
I suppose that will only
RealityReality3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
"You know Regina; I was quite confused at first when you threatened me at the station, but after deliberation I know what you've done. And let me be the first to tell you it wasn't a very good idea."
Emma watched next to Henry as Mr Gold stood confidently in the middle of Town Hall, threatening Regina in front of everyone, but she didn't look very threatened. On the contrary the mayor looked just as cocky as he did and she extended him a naughty smile from behind her podium.
"I think you should have been more careful about who you let into your company. So often I've thought that love is a weakness and so often I am proved right and this right here is the perfect proof." She said, gesturing at him and swaggering away from her podium on the stage.
"You've proved nothing witch." He spoke in a voice Emma hardly recognised; cold, cruel and calculating, not the gentle and sadistic sound she was used to.
"Oh but I have. Love is a weak spot so many have. Who'd have thought that of all pe
No little children love me - An Imaginary Tale"No little children love me." He remembered saying on more than one occasion to Smee. It was not just a statement, but fact. At least it was as far as he was concerned. In all his many years, no little children ever loved him. Even when he was a child. Other little children his age would prefer to stay away or simply did not like him. Time and time again, this was a proven fact that no little children loved him.No little children love me - An Imaginary Tale2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Even when they called him to them.
It was not the first time, and certainly would not be the last, but the Captain was once more summoned away from his ship and home, to some other land where no one could see him. Except for one. It was always a child. Rarely older than 13 and always frowning or smirking proudly at him with a toy sword or stick. Most often, it was a young boy pretending to kill pirates. He found that if he pretended to die, the child would be satisfied and send him on his way once more. Even the girls who called for him only wanted him so a boy pretending to be
Worth Getting Hooked Ch1Worth Getting Hooked Ch15 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan or it's characters
This is inspired by KP-chan's work, Through My Eyes, so go read that too!
Kisses For A Disney Villain
What was supposed to be a simple sleepover, play a few games, watch a movie, and go to bed by no later than 12am, escalated to so much more. We had eaten ice-cream, varies candies, and other sweets giving us a major sugar high with even more junk food sitting on the table waiting for us, and it was now 11:30. The morning was going to be dreadful as we all had to work, but all five of us rarely got to be together so we went all out. The Disney trivia game we had started turned out to be a lot harder than we thought and was changed to a sort of Disney truth or dare while watching the movie, which turned out to be much more fun anyway. First was The Little Mermaid, which we just finished, and now was Peter Pan.
"Whose favorite villain is Hook?" Said one of my overly excited friends. The mentioned villain was on the scr
Care IICare II4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Minerva must have fallen asleep because she was woken up by the sound of something glass hitting the ground.
Shooting up from the chair she grabbed her wand and looked wildly around the room. Still a bit groggy she walked across the room and stood by his bed trying to adjust to the light she cast a simple spell to reignite the fire.
Once she could see at least somewhat she began to examine him. Only to be almost knocked over when his arm shot out and tried to grab the glass of water from the side of the bed, nearly knocking over another one of the potion filled vials.
Minerva quickly caught the vial before turning to Severus.
"Severus, are you finally awake?"
Fevered black eyes stared back at him "no I'm sleeping with my eyes open, it's truly a useful skill." Minerva bristled really did he always have to be so sarcastic? It was fairly off settling.
"How are you feeling?"
Severus glared up at her "fine. Now you can go. Go back to your precious Gryffindor's surely they are lost wi
This moonThis moon; we tracedThis moon4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
our language upon its face, found
permanence could only be
found in ever-changing and dreaming
and age. This moon, gave law and lost
knowledge, as all mystics do. An
ear for memory, you said, laughing. Echo
palms her veil of fibrous paper, stretches
its threads, a grid to contain-
ambiant skin pulled into ghastly tenousity-
scream of rage, finely boned hands etch war
coaxing a tattoo from pore to pore. Light
falls from the trees, moths spill to her reflection,
fragments of obscurity and breath mingle. Alchemy
is found here, and yet she marvels at our
stories. To her, our eyes, are lanterns.
Snape's Confession-fan ficSnapes ConfessionSnape's Confession-fan fic8 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Severus did not know why he was there. He had not made a conscious decision to be there. He just was. He could hear laughter, and feel the air brimming with anticipation. It made him feel sick. He pressed his forehead against the wall and closed his eyes. He hoped this would make his head stop spinning, help him to gather this thoughts, but it did not. His breaths came quickly, his heart beating way to fast.
I cannot be seen, he thought. Not by anyone.
She knew it was normal to feel unsettled on such a day every married woman she knew had told her that your wedding day is one of the scariest days of your life - but she still couldnt help thinking that pre-wedding jitters didnt feel quite like this. She just couldnt shake this feeling of uneasiness, and she was sure it was somehow connected to the fact that she simply could not stop thinking about Severus Snape. Why? Of course she still thought about him, but it always brough
An Ode to My CatAn Ode to My Cat4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I'm sorry my pet,
He cut you open.
But if not for the vet,
You'd have never awoken.
How could I make it up to you,
or even slightly ease your pain?
It's like there's nothing I can do,
My sympathies are in vain.
Still, I hope that you can see,
When you look me in the eye,
Your guardian I'll always be,
For you I'd gladly die.
Dear YouDear YouDear You6 years ago in Letters More Like This
I hate you.
It's such a simple phrase, but it's so hard to put any real emotion behind it.
In that respect, it is exactly like 'I love you.'
Do you remember all the times I told you that?
Do you remember telling me that?
Do you remember meaning it, and then not meaning it?
Do you remember not telling me?
Do you remember the laughter, the good times?
Do you remember the tears, and the support?
Do you remember how one faded and the other grew?
Do you remember when I tried to do the right thing?
Do you remember me going against my better judgement?
Do you remember the black cloud that we couldn't seem to shake?
Do you remember the words, or just the emotions?
Do you remember the letters?
Do you remember finally admitting the truth?
Do you remember persecuting me for telling the truth?
Do you remember trying?
Do you remember my request?
No you don't.
I hate you.
It's such a simple phrase, but it's so hard to put any real emotion behind it.
In that respect, it is exactly like 'I lo
Llamas: Conversation in PoemLlamasLlamas: Conversation in Poem4 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
By peachnewt and knightswhodontsayni
This is a conversation in poem that started with the gift of a llama.
Thanks for the llama.
A pixelated icon.
This is a haiku.
To say you're welcome
Is but a courtesy,
To llama it forward
Are you suggesting
I give you a llama?
This gift I am accepting
Should come without drama.
I need no return
For alpaca or llama.
And I do not ask
With anger or drama.
To give to the giver
Is a gift with two sides,
To give upon strangers
Is an unexpected surprise.
The more facets a gift
The more smiles one sees,
So spread the llama love
To unexpected giftees.
This llamatic gift
Has inspired poetry,
The sending is swift
In terms of delivery.
It's brown and pixelated,
It comes from the soul,
It's very appreciated,
And this poetry is my goal.
The unexpected sonnets
Are a pleasant surprise,
Though I cannot give bluebonnets,
Is the art of t
A Fairy on Your NoseA Fairy on Your Nose4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The streetlamps flickered inauspiciously against the darkening sky, casting evanescent shadows on the rain slicked pavement. The man in the navy tie pressed his son closer to his side as the gaudy neon lights danced capriciously at the edges of his vision. A trace scent of rain was still faintly discernible in the open air, choked by the overshadowing odor of cigarette smoke and cheap alcohol. The pair of figures hurried down the quiet boulevard, footsteps echoing loudly on the empty street. The child's steps splashed clouded water against his father's dress pants, a fact that would have amused him immensely had he been watching where he was going. Instead, he peered attentively into the darkened cross streets.
"They're looking at me Keith," the boy murmured, staring out into the shadowed alleyways. His father turned his head away.
"They're not," he replied, although he was almost sure they were. Keith was out of place in this area, too finely dressed in his black su
CATS Jellicle Unitard TutorialHOW TO MAKE A JELLICLE COSTUME: PART 2, THE UNITARD/CATSUITCATS Jellicle Unitard Tutorial4 years ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
Congratulations! If you've made it to PART 2 of this tutorial, then you're 50% finished already! Now then, since you made it through the toughest part and now have your Jellicle wig of choice, pat yourself on the back and take a break before moving on. Done? Good, here we go, Part 2, THE UNITARD.
The unitard is the second most difficult part of the CATS costume, and they part that really sets the cats apart from each other. Now, you've obviously watched the video and seen real cats before, and know by now that some of the cats in the video have patternings nothing like real life cats. This is the creative licensing part of the show, where patterns were used to make the cats easier to differentiate between. The unitard gives each cat it's identity, and many cats are recognizable by their patterning alone.
Supplies (these vary based on which method you
Cazar ideasCazar ideas4 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
No hay nada más frustrante que un artist block y para mí no hay nada más frustrante que leer eso de alguien más.
Sé que deben haber otros tuts con cómo salir de un artist block, así que simplemente me basaré en cómo pueden cazar la inspiración, estén bloqueados o no, pero primero deben responder a la pregunta:
¿Me satisface lo que hago?
Si están bloqueados es porque necesitan simplemente un cambio de aires, uno se aburre hasta de lo que más le gusta hacer. Ahora, si están bloqueados tipo "nada me sale" o "no puedo hacer nada" y el cambio de aires no es una idea a aceptar, lo tomaría como que son esclavos de lo que hacen y por eso tanto su imaginación como su cuerpo (el "plasmador" de obras) se rebelan. Pongan atención a sus estados y no vayan en su contra, eso empeora el caso. Si ya no pueden dibujar, escriban, si no escriben, lean, vean películas, hagan deporte, jueguen videojue
point of no return.She shouldn't be here. All her instincts tell her to run, flee from this grave threshold.point of no return.4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She can feel him lurking in the shadows; watching, waiting. If she ran would he pursue? Most definitely. He is a predator by nature, and she is his prey.
She wants to bolt. Her body strains towards the large oak doors not far behind her. And yet, she stays, for reasons unknown to her and her capturer.
She can feel her skin prickle as he emerges from the darkness, looking for all the word as if he himself is a shadow, just another part of the grim walls. Her chest heaves as he slowly walks to her, practically gliding. He is so graceful, so alluring she studies his pale face, so contrasted in the dim light of the room. His eyes, brooding and deep set, blaze into her soul, stripping away the rest of the world except for he and she.
He approaches her and stops just in front of her, their bodies merely centimeters from contact. Her neck cranes as she turns her face up to his. His sweet seductions