Novel & Cerita X Pen

I was Haven Kenway, and I would not let some stupid, twelve-year-old boy get to me. I grabbed my favorite pencil — one of the good ones, the kind with the type of eraser that didn’t leave annoying streaks on the paper — and I sharpened it with my handheld sharpener until it was as pointy as possible. My pencils always had to be sharp. I couldn’t stand dull pencils. I then took out a piece of my nice, crisp, white paper with perfect blue lines, and wrote back to my pen pal who didn’t want me.

She explained as she took the pen out of the casing and showed it to Freya, though, still careful not to turn on the taser feature. “Woah, that’s nice. Maybe I should ask Hestia where she could buy that. I also would love to have that.” commented Freya as she observed the pen from the hold of Yulia. Indeed, even the pen itself looked so elegant and delicate, also the intricate carvings of vines and flowers by the body and the initials of Yulia were detailed and so mesmerising to look at to the point that she remembered that expensive pen: Graf von Faber- Castell Pen. but unfortunately, her time of admiring the pen was needed to be cut short. “And you should see this o—” Yulia was about to sa

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A pen is placed before me. This is it. No turning back now.

Duke said. "Shut up," I muttered. I moved to the pens. There were about a hundred of them, and I stood in front of the display for longer than was reasonable, picking up three different ones, putting them back, and picking up two more. "Any of them," Duke said, his patience clearly exhausted. "I want to get the right ones—" "They're pens, Ryker." I grabbed two black ones—solid, reliable, nothing that would run out of ink in the first week—and went to pay before I could second-guess anything else.

Matthew asked, amazement visible on his face as he leered at Jack. It was something that he'd wanted. He remembered that he and Jack were in his office on the site waiting for the release, but before he could even buy it, it was already sold! He can't believe how lucky Damon Williams was to have that pen. There were only 99 of those pens in different styles made, not to mention it costing over 20k alone because of how high in demand they were and made from solid gold and diamond.

Fiona took the pen in her hand and looked at it, confused, "Can you give it to me?" "YES." Paul Henry nodded. When in Paul Henry's hand, Fiona thought it was just a red fountain pen, but when she held it in her hand, she realized it seemed different from other normal pens. Fiona I don't know, flipping the cap of the pen with my hand, letting out a small voice, this is not a pen at all, but a small knife, where the pen nib is replaced with a blade, looks very sharp. "This is for self-defense, the nib is made of tungsten steel, can break glass, can also be used as a pen nib to write, normally you just keep it in your pocket, it won't take up much space." Paul Henry explained.

“Customized which means someone asked specifically for it, an electronic drawing pen that calms the nerves?” “Technically, yes. She said the customer paid twelve thousand dollars for it.” I gasped. I just stared at her like she was insane, but maybe she was. I mean, she just called a pen for twelve thousand dollars. “Is she sure? That sounds absurd. It’s just a … pen.” Her brows came together in a frown. “The only one of its kind in the world…” She let out a sigh and removed her black hair tie, letting her blue hair fall freely on her shoulders. “There’s something else…”

A shape *popped* into existence around my fingers. It's solid where nothing else had been. My fist was suddenly full of something narrow and smooth. I looked down—or the ink’s version of down—and saw it. A pen. Plain. Plastic. Its barrel glowed with an eerie mix of light and shadow—the blue‑black of midnight ink shot through with white, like someone had cracked a star and poured it into a Bic. The Game hissed. “UNSANCTIONED OBJECT—” it began. “Too late,” I said.