#ff: the colour of water

[captainfern]

this is a request but i accidentally deleted it 😭

“hi babes. ur work is amazing but im sure you know this. im also sure you have lots of requests so please take your time getting to this one. but I was wonderingggg if you could do one where price is the friend of the readers dad? they've been hooking up in secret for a while but at a little house party, they sneak into someplace private and do the deed. ive seen so many other ffs about this with other characters so ikkkk price would fit this. thank you again <33”

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Marigold

dbf!Captain John Price x fem!reader

[“Marigold” by Nirvana]

[18+]

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• summary - price is your dads best friend. he asks you to meet him upstairs during a party. you fuck lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 4.4k • warnings - fem!reader, dad’sbestfriend!price, established relationship? kinda?, unprotected piv, age gap [whatever you want it to be as long as it's legal lmao], fingering, recording [consensual], oral [f!receiving], praise, strong language

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You fidgeted with the hem of your dress, looking at yourself in the mirror. You ran your hands down the fabric, smoothing the wrinkles, smiling at yourself. You looked fucking good.

Downstairs, a big neighbourhood party was in full swing— something organised by your father. It was a comfortable get together to unwind before the summer holidays, complete with all of your neighbours from down the street, and even across the block.

The dress you were wearing was new. You brought it recently, actually. You liked to convince yourself you got it because you were treating yourself, but in reality, it may or may not have been a 2am online purchase after a considerable emotional breakdown. But hey, same thing, right?

It was shorter than you thought, mid-thigh, if that. The colour was pretty too, your favourite. It complimented the complexion of your skin, accentuating your figure, showing off a significant amount of leg. You smiled at yourself, doing a quick twirl.

Hot as fuck.

The party was bustling. You had arrived home late, apologising profusely to your dad before rushing upstairs to get ready. So, over the gentle thrum of the music, you weren't surprised to hear your dad call your name, hurrying you to come and greet the guests.

You bounded down the stairs, dress fluttering against your thighs, and made your way into the kitchen. You tried not to feel awkward when copious pairs of eyes turned to look at you as you shuffled towards your dad. He put an arm around your shoulders, holding you to his side for a moment, placing a kiss to the top of your head.

"There you are. Come say hi to everyone."

You did. Humming along to the music as you went, you individually greeted each of the guests. You plastered on your best people-pleasing smile, responding cheerily to the same fifty fucking questions everyone asked you.

How are you? How is work? Have you figured out what you want to do? Any plans for the future? Met anyone special?

By the time you made it to the edge of your living room towards the other side of the house, you felt a headache coming on. So, you excused yourself back into the kitchen to get a large glass of water. Your father was just departing, leading the congregation of neighbours outside. By the smell of it, someone was on the barbecue.

You were left, alone, in the kitchen, nursing a cold glass of water, listening to the music you were skeptical your dad had actually chosen. There were some good songs, surprisingly.

You placed your glass away as your dad walked in, heading for the sink. He wriggled in next to you, rinsing his hands under the water.

"You okay, honey?"

You nodded. "I'm fine."

He smiled at you, drying his hands on a towel nearby. As he did that, the doorbell rung, echoing through the house, just audible over the music.

"Oh, can you get that? I just need to take these outside..." Your dad said, scooping a couple of extra wine bottles off the counter and heading outside.

You walked through the house, heading to the front door. You opened it with a polite smile spread across your features. It drooped slightly, catching sight of the man on your front porch.

"Captain Price." It was meant to be a greeting, but it sounded more as if you were stating a fact.

He offered you a small smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges. He had a bottle of whiskey tucked beneath his arm.

"You just never want to call me by my first name, do you, sweetheart?" He chuckled as you stepped to the side, allowing him entrance.

You blinked after his form— strong, hulking shoulders, a lean abdomen paired with a slight narrow in his waist— as he meandered into the entrance hall.

"John makes you sound old." You quipped as you followed him into the kitchen.

He laughed. "I am old."

"Not that old." You said.

It was somewhat true. He was a similar age to your father, and they were best friends. They'd been in the military together before your dad retired to have a family. Price had always checked in on him, especially when he had time off work. You had known him for a while. Met him a couple of times when you were really young— not that you could remember, anyway— and then you saw him a bit more frequently as you got older. You hadn't seen him for a while up until today. Captain John Price is a busy man.

You felt your body begin to heat up once the pair of you were in the kitchen.

Well, the last time you saw him was a couple of weeks ago, before he was set to be deployed to some foreign country—

"That's it, thaaaat's it, don't talk sweetheart, just take it," Price whispered in your ear, chest pressed to your back. "Don't talk. Just take my cock, there you go. Take it, love. Doing so good for me."

He had you bent over his kitchen counter, his house dark around you, the early hours of the morning apparent by the inky black sky visible out of his windows.

You couldn't talk, even if you tried. You had been trying to whimper to him, moan his name and his rank and tell him what you wanted, but you couldn't get the words out of your mouth. He had left you speechless with the way he continuously hit that spongey spot inside you, making you tighten and gush around him.

Bodies flush together, sweat accumulating between you. Your skin was on fire, hands and tits flush with the cool countertop as he fucked his cock into you, harder and harder, your knees smacking the underside cabinetry. His grip on your hips was vice-like, keeping you steady, his pelvis smacking into your arse.

"S'this my going away present, sweetheart?" He chuckled as you choked on another string of moans caught in your throat. "Fucking perfect. I better get another one once I'm back, yeah?"

You nodded deliriously, finding your voice. "Yes, Price, fuck, I promise, I promise—"

Price cleared his throat, snapping you out of your little flash back. He leaned against the kitchen island, hip bracing against it, having placed the bottle of whiskey down. He folded his arms across his broad chest, arms looking especially good in his black jacket.

"Your dad around?" He asked.

You nodded towards the backyard. "Yeah, he's outside. Did you want me to go get h—?"

You were cut off as Price grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him, pressing your body to his. Quickly, he cupped your jaw and placed his mouth to yours, backing your lower back up against the counter. You had your hands against his chest as his tongue slipped into your mouth, one hand on your jaw and the other balled at your hip. He pinched the fabric of your dress between his knuckles, still keeping his fingers tucked into a fist.

Just as you whined into the kiss, your hands travelling upwards, Price stepped back. Commotion outside drew him right across the kitchen as the back door opened and your father came in. You discreetly wiped your face. So did Price.

That was unexpected.

Your dads eyes lit up when he saw Price, and Price smiled at him.

"John! Didn't think you'd make it!" Your dad beamed, pulling Price into a hug.

Price slapped your dad a couple of times on the back before they released each other.

"I flew in last night," Price admitted. "I won't stay long. Just thought I'd pop in and say hi. Oh, I also brought this."

Casually, Price stepped past you and grabbed the bottle of whiskey off of the counter behind you. You breathed in his cologne as he passed the bottle to your dad. You had to force yourself not to close your eyes and whine.

"Jesus, mate, this is an expensive bottle. You shouldn't have."

"No worries, mate. Enjoy it." Price replied.

Your dad turned to you, showing you the bottle, and you had to pretend like it was the coolest thing ever, since your dad seemed absolutely ecstatic.

"You see this, honey? This is good stuff."

"Oh, I bet." You said.

Your dad turned to put the whiskey in a cabinet nearby. When he turned back around, he let his eyes fall on to you, and his gaze softened, a small smile still evident on his face.

"I didn't say earlier, but that's a really nice dress. Nice colour, too. You look beautiful." Your dad said.

You felt your lips quirk at the edges as you hid a bashful smile. "Oh, thanks."

Your dad nudged Price. "It's a nice colour, don't you reckon, John? Reminds me of our deployment in Damascus. Remember? That nice lady selling all those shawls..."

You could tell Price wasn't really listening to your dads military-era story. His eyes were on you. It felt like he was absorbing you whole. Eyes darkening, raking up and down your body, admiring both the dress and the way it clung to you. The pinpoint of his tongue darted across his lips as his gaze travelled upwards from your legs, resting now on your face. You cocked your head at him, ever so slightly, biting your bottom lip for a second. He followed the movement, blinking and looking away, clearing his throat as his cheeks dusted a light shade of pink.

"Yeah, nice colour. Suits you." He grumbled.

After a moment, your dad led Price outside and you watched them go. Your body thrummed in time with the music, buzzing from where Price had touched you just mere minutes ago. You felt warm.

•º•

An hour or so later, the congregation of people had moved back inside, happy and full after the food outside. Darkness had fallen now, music still loud and just slightly vibrating the drinks resting on the counter in front of you.

You were talking with your neighbour, a girl just a few years older than you, who you had known for quite some time. The conversation was actually nice, and you found yourself enjoying it. Until she had to leave, and you were once again left standing alone in the kitchen. Until, of course, Price sidled up beside you, still a respectable distance away.

"Meet me upstairs. Give it a minute, though." Was all he said before he vanished from the room.

No greeting, or small talk. Straight to the fucking point, clearly.

You downed the rest of your drink, letting a good long couple of minutes pass before you decided to head up the stairs. As you ascended, you looked around, seeing no one paying you much attention. Your dad was on the couch, telling a good dozen people one of his usual thrilling stories of his time in the military. You smiled to yourself as you reached the top of the stairs.

You made your way into your bedroom, humming to yourself. You didn't see Price straight away, so you flinched when he slammed the door closed behind you, jamming your desk chair beneath it to keep it locked— it was an old house, with no locks on the bedroom doors— and striding across the room.

You had no time to react as he put a hand to the back of your neck, holding gently but firmly, and pressing your mouth to his. You whined desperately, folding your arms along his shoulders and carding your fingers into his hair, knocking his woollen hat off. He wasted no time in shoving his tongue into your mouth, smoothing it against yours, drawing soft noises from your throat.

He walked you backwards until you both fell against the bed, him overtop of you. He didn't once break the kiss, even when he used one hand to pry your legs apart, forcing them to hook around his hips as he pushed you further onto the bed, crawling after you.

"Missed you." You whispered, pleasure straining each syllable. He had broken away from your mouth, kissing along the curve of your jaw and down the expanse of your throat. He nipped at the soft skin of your neck, licking along your collarbone, still heading southward. He got to the neckline of your dress, pressed taut to the swell of your breasts, rising rapidly as you breathed. He ran kisses along the soft flesh, running his hands up and down your waist, revelling in the softness of the fabric and the warmth of your skin beneath.

"Such a pretty fucking dress," He muttered, teeth skimming the line of the fabric. "Took everything in me not to flip it up and fuck you in it... right there in that kitchen."

He yanked it down, letting your tits spill out before him. With a soft grumble in his throat, he pressed his mouth to your left one, drawing your nipple into his mouth, circling it with his tongue. He looked up at you whilst he did it, admiring the way your eyes fluttered, struggling to maintain eye contact as the pleasure built.

After a moment, he released it with a slick pop and moved to your right tit, mimicking his earlier actions. You moaned his name, gripping his hair, massaging his scalp. He groaned, mouth wet and hot against your delicate flesh. His hands had moved now— one running up to cup and massage your tits as he sucked, and the other travelling down the length of your body.

Your body hummed in anticipation, tingling as he gently flipped the bottom of your dress up, exposing your underwear. Still sucking kisses onto the mounds of your breasts, he dipped his hand past the hem of your underwear. Two fingers made contact with your slick core, and you arched further into his mouth, moaning loudly.

"Fuck me, you're soaked," Price grunted, releasing your swollen nipple and sitting back on his haunches.

Impatiently, he yanked his hand out of your underwear and ripped them away, the cotton snapping against your thighs, breaking with a loud tear. You whimpered as Price stuffed the material into his jacket pocket, swiftly pushing his fingers back towards your core.

They ran up and down your slit, collecting the excess arousal that was drooling from your cunt. He slowly dragged the digits through your folds a couple of times before he pressed the tips to your clit, drawing tight circles. You gasped, arching for him, moaning his rank as he replaced the two fingers with his thumb. His two fingers were immediately at your dripping entrance, circling.

"So wet, sweetheart. Absolutely dripping," He mused. "What's got you all wet and needy?”

You mewled at him, sensation-overload and he had barely started. Your tits were slick with his saliva, cold in the air of your room. He was still circling your clit, your arousal making his movements audible if you listened hard enough. The music downstairs was dull and echoey, as if you were underwater. Then, his two fingers, the tips barely grazing your soaking hole. You could scream.

"Eh, sweetheart? What's got you soaking your pretty little underwear, hm?" Price asked, still giving your clit attention.

"You." You whine.

"Me?" Price chuckled. "What about me?"

'You're... you're making me wet, Price," you almost sob. "Need you so bad. I missed you."

Price liked that answer, clearly. He pushed two fingers into your cunt, letting out a breathy moan as your silky walls clamped around the digits. You keened, whimpering like some kind of wounded animal as he buried his fingers to the knuckle before dragging them all the way back out. He plunged them in again, and a pace began, almost in time with the base of whatever song was playing downstairs.

"This my welcome home present?" He asked, shoving his fingers repeatedly into your tight cunt, wet sounds reverberating around your bedroom.

You nodded. "Yeah. M-missed you—"

Your lower stomach was tingling, coiling tight. Already? Fucking hell.

"Missed you too, sweetheart," Price leaned up to press a chaste kiss to your lips. "Couldn't get this pretty face outta my head. Couldn't get this pretty cunt outta my head, either."

He leaned back, settling on his ankles as he watched his fingers drag in and out of you, coaxing wave after wave of slick from the depths of your cunt. He moaned, really fucking loudly, at the sight.

"Can I... can I take a video?" Price asked, breathless.

You felt yourself burning up, stomach flipping. You nodded, whining a "yeah" as he reached into the pocket of his jeans and fished out his phone. His fingers slowed for just a moment as he readied his phones camera.

"Wish I had a video when I was deployed," he whispered, more to himself than you. "Had to rely on my imagination."

His words made you moan.

"Yeah, just had to remember those pretty sounds you make, and the sight of this pretty cunt stretched out around my cock," He groaned, turning the flash on to combat the hazy lighting in your bedroom. "Came all over my hand imagining it was this cunt 'round my cock."

He hit record as the movements of his finger sped up. You mewled, whining, arching off the bed and pushing your aching core further onto his hand as he fucked his fingers into you, thumb rubbing tightly against your puffy, wet clit. The sounds were obscene, like foley sound effects, soft squelches with each push of his fingers. You could feel your arousal pooling out of you, down the soft skin of your thighs, across the curve of your arse, bleeding into the sheets beneath you. You imagined that Price's hand would be absolutely drenched.

He was making soft, deep noises in the back of his throat, watching his fingers, phone focused on their movements. He flicked his eyes up to your face, not moving the camera though. Your facial expressions were easy to remember— chewing at your bottom lip, slight furrow in your brow, lips puffy and wet with saliva, eyelids fluttering. That was for his mind only.

You moaned, breathy and high-pitched.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?"

"Gonna... gonna cum."

He withheld a moan at the sound of your sweet desperation. It made his cock throb angrily within the confines of his boxers, already painfully hard the moment he had pushed you onto the bed.

"Go on then, pretty girl. Cum 'round my fingers," He muttered, and you did— creaming around him with a violent twitching of your legs, cunt spasming around his fingers in a burst of arousal, splattering up the length of his forearm. He smiled lazily behind his phone, muttering; "That's a good girl."

"Price—!" You cried, halfway between a moan and a sob.

He hit stop, tossing his phone aside and pulling your thighs apart. Nestling himself between them, his breath fanned out across your soaking folds. You tried to lift yourself off the mattress to see what he was doing, but you couldn't. When his warm tongue licked a fat stripe up your sensitive slit, you flopped backwards.

There wasn't as much foreplay as usual… in the sense that Price shoved his tongue directly into your drooling cunt. He ignored your overstimulated clit, probably for the best, as he lapped at the arousal that was still leaking from you. He moaned happily against your folds, nose pressed just below your clit. It nudged the swollen bundle of nerves every few seconds, and it made your hips buck, electricity zapping the base of your tummy.

You had both hands in his hair, pulling him closer and urging him on. You tugged gently at the strands, massaging his scalp, making him grumble appreciatively below you. His hands were hard and warm against your thighs, making you tingle. Your tits were still exposed, the rest of your dress pooling around your waist.

You could still hear the rest of the party happening downstairs. A small jolt of fear passed through you. If anyone— especially your dad— came searching for you, you'd be fucking dead. Whoever it may be, would find you spread out on your back on your bed, legs spread and panting, a man probably more than twice your age between your thighs, eating you out like his life depended on it.

The fear turned to thrill, and you released a shaky breath.

Your second orgasm rolled over you quickly, and Price dragged it from you with a moan of your name against your cunt. You keened, uttering a sickly sweet "captain!" before coming in his mouth.

"Fuck, yeah, that's it." He murmured against your folds, sucking up the arousal that pooled at your fluttering hole. It always made you embarrassed, the way he literally talked into your cunt, his words vibrating your core. He groaned again, humping against your bed covers, pressing the outline of his aching cock into your mattress. "Such a good, wet cunt. Tastes fucking divine."

He pulled away. You watched him hazily as he shed his shirt and pants, then his boxers, his hard cock bobbing against his stomach. You salivated at the sight as he gripped himself, moving to scoop some of your arousal into his hand. He coated himself in it, pumping his hard length, eyes raking down your body.

"So beautiful, sweetheart," he murmured, leaning over you and kissing you again. His cock settled at your entrance, fat head leaking pre-cum onto your already glistening folds. "Just made for me, weren't you?"

You hummed your agreement, barely able to keep your eyes open. He kissed you again, tongue probing, hot and wet. You whimpered, feeling his tongue skim your bottom lip, drawing further desperate sounds from your panting mouth.

Price cursed. "Fuck. Can I record another video?"

You nodded.

"Words, sweetheart, come on. You should know that."

"Yeah, okay," you said sheepishly. "You can record again."

He kissed your nose, then shuffled back, grabbing his phone as he kneeled between your spread legs. He flicked it to his camera, flash on and hitting record. His phone followed the movements of his cockhead, rubbing up your slit, smearing your arousal. Then, with no warning other than a shallow, animalistic grunt from the depths of his chest, Price pushed his cock into you.

He tried not to cum on the spot at the way you tossed your head back, moaning as your silken walls clamped around his cock. Your fists balled your sheets, twisting, as you scrambled for some kind of anchorage as he pulled out and thrusted back in, shunting you up the bed.

His pace was gruelling, sticky skin colliding with a wet fap fap fap. Your eyes rolled, mouth agape as breathy strings of whimpers fell from your lips. His cockhead nudged the plug of your womb, slamming into that spot that had you twitching and spasming.

"My good girl, my fucking good girl, look at you, taking me so well," Price muttered, definitely audible on camera. You clenched around him repeatedly, drawing throaty grunts from him. Your third orgasm was, not surprisingly, approaching quickly. Really fucking quickly. Especially when Price moved his free hand from your waist to toy with your puffy clit, giving it a light pinch before circling it. You sobbed out, clawing at the sheets.

"Captain, please—!"

"Fuck... beg for it... please, sweetheart, fucking beg for it." By the way Price was speaking, he was close.

Your cunt throbbed at that, a whine in his words.

"Please, Price, need to cum. Can I? P-please—fuck—please, captain, need to—"

He groaned, trying to mute himself as much as he could, sinking his top teeth into his bottom lip before urging himself to speak.

"Go on then. Cum 'round my cock," Price uttered lowly, eyes focused on your face. He could watch his cock fucking into your slick cunt whenever he wanted. He just wanted to see your beautiful face. "Good girl, that's it. You can cum. Let go for me, sweetheart."

"Oh my god, Price—" you keened, third orgasm slamming into you and sending you spiralling. White hot, body alight, nerves buzzing as you came around his cock, still burning hot inside you, abusing the plug of your womb.

"Fucking beautiful," Price grunted, still recording the way your cunt stretched taut around his girth, splattering wet across his pelvis.

He was close, twitching inside you. He was pawing at the mound of your belly, pressing his palm to where the imprint of his cock was visible, so fucking deep inside you. He moaned at the sight, salivating, hiking your dress up further to get a better view.

Overstimulation was creeping in. You whined, reaching down to skirt your fingernails across Price's bare abdomen.

"Please, Price, cum for me," you whimpered, voice coming out unusually sultry. "Cum inside me, please, captain."

"Holy fuck—" Price stuttered, spilling inside you instantly.

His warmth flooded you, spurting around his cock, dribbling out of your cunt. He spilled ropes and ropes, hot white ichor, filling your womb as you sobbed for him.

Price tossed his phone to the side, immediately dragging himself up your body, cock still inside. He pressed kisses all over your face, soothing you, the both of you shining with sweat. Your bare tits pressed against his bare chest as he whispered sweet words of affirmation in your ear.

You sighed.

There really wasn't any other man, your age or not, like Captain John Price.

"You alright?" He asked, kissing your earlobe, your jaw, your cheek, your nose, then finally your lips.

You smiled, his facial hair tickling your face. "Mhm."

"Good." He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, sucking at the skin.

"You had fun filming your little videos?" You cooed, stroking a hand through his hair.

He grunted against your neck. "Of course. Straight to the wank bank they go, sweetheart."

You snorted, laughing. "For such an old man, you are so immature."

"I'm not an old man."

"You said you were earlier," you smiled. "Surprised you can still get it up."

"Fucking hell. You and Soap'd get along."

Your mischievous grin grew. "Oh, the one with the mohawk? Sexy—"

Price bit at your neck, making you yelp. He grumbled, "Don't push it."

You laughed, patting his head. You both lay in silence for a little while, listening to the dull, far-away vibrations of the music.

"We should probably rejoin the party..." You said in a disappointed mumble.

Price grunted, hugging you tighter. "Five minutes."

"Enough for round two, old man?"

"Don't tempt me, sweetheart."

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This was meant to be longer and a bit fluffier but I got tired and horny so here you go hope you enjoyed mwah mwah xx

#captainfern #captainfernsalutes #call of duty #captain john price #call of duty mw2 #captain price #captain price smut #fem reader #price x reader #captain john price x female reader #price smut #captain price x reader #captain’snirvana #cod mw2 #cod price

[h2ojustaddmako]

GUYSSS!

So a while ago I said I wanted to make a collection of H2O merchandise for the mature audience/merch that is not automatically clockable as H2O themed. After dropping a Bella & the Band design, it was very well received and I started working on a few more things... So, today's the day!

This first drop contains 10 designs, available on t-shirts, hoodies, as stickers, magnets, hats, tote bags, and what not, including customisable colours. Welcome to the H2hoe: Just Add Merch! Collection.

The Life I Was Promised / H2hoe Water Bottle

These first two are inspired by some of the posts and memes on my page. The minute I wrote that line with Cleo in the bath I found it hilarious, and it was indeed a very popular post. The water bottle design says "Stay hydrated, you h2hoe" with the H2hoe shoe logo on the bottle, for the keen eyed.

Mako Island Tours / Greetings from Mako Island

These two were meant to be like, holiday souvenirs from your trip to the Gold Coast. One from a "business" of boat tours around Mako, while the other is more in postcard style.

Rikki's Café / JuiceNet

These two were tricky to come up with, cause restaurants don't really have merchandise. I made a mock up receipt from each cafe (including some references in the listed items 👀). You're gonna confuse a lot of people bout why you're wearing a receipt on your shirts, but if they know, they know.

No Ordinary Girl Form / Full Moon Spell

These were also semi-inspired by the memes on this page. The first one is a job application form, with some memorable lyrics :)

And of course, no one can hold you accountable for full moon fever, girlboss.

Bella & the Band #1 and #2

These two were posted here before, so I'm just gonna quickly mention if you missed 'em. First one is a tour merch for whatever fictional tour apparently happened during the summer of 2011. The other design is more of a poster with all band members and song titles.

AND THERE YOU HAVE IT!

All designs, as well as some of my older ones (like the H2O and Mako Eras tour posters!) are available on my Redbubble collection page!

CLICK HERE TO CHECK EVERYTHING OUT

and plz plz plz repost, share, whatever this is called. I worked really hard on those and if they do well I'd do some more designs I have in mind (so many were planned ffs)

#h2o just add water #bella hartley #emma gilbert #cleo sertori #rikki chadwick #mako mermaids #zane bennett #mako: island of secrets #lewis mccartney #fan merch #merchandise #merch #graphic design #design #art

[deluluriddhi]

Heeriye

A desi Nisimura Riki fanfic

( LIB? ) Synopsis: did you ever think that your one and only best friend would make you fall in love with him?

Pairing: Nisimura Riki × Reader

Contains: ‼️ TITLE DOESN'T RESEMBLE THE FF ‼️ , bsf to lovers, just fluff and romance.

W.C: ????

Note: A post (better a reblog) from @desi-babygirl popped up on my home feed a few days ago. It said how he did her mehendi and proposed to her later. Plus, I have been following Desiblr a lot these days 🤭 so this FF is basically all my (and all the desi girls out there) fantasies in one FF with my bais, inspired by @desi-babygirl 's last post. For the one who asked if I write For Riki, here is one for you. Enjoy!

Riddhi speaks: BOOM, I AM BACK. THIS FF SPECIALLY FOR MY LOVELY @oldersiblingcurse AND ALL THE DESI GIRLS OUT THERE AND THANK YOU SM @desi-babygirl FOR THE IDEA. LOVE YOU ALL. I thought Riki specially fitted this. Forgive me if this is not that good, I am just trying to storm through my Writer's block. Real long, ik, but read through it.

Playlist: just put on your favourite Desi girl playlist

"Huh? You will not do my mehendi?", you exclaimed sitting down next to one of your sisters' friend and the mehendi artist, on the beautifully decorated settee. "Sorry but the mehendi artist gotta leave because of her sudden emergency at her house. Can't you do it yourself? I am busy too.", your sister's friend told you.

"I hate this.", you said kicking your feet on the tiled floor. Well, what's the worse thing that can happen to you on your own sister's wedding?

"Need help, babygirl?"

The familiar voice made you look up and smile at the boy. It was none other than your own best friend, Riki!

You patted the place beside you, gesturing him to sit beside you.

"Where's the mehendi artist?", he said looking around, before flopping down next to you. "She went home...", you smiled looking at your own hands which could have been filled with beautiful design of the colour brown by now. "Then what about you?", he asked, his eyebrows furred together, filled with worries and looking straight into yours. "Yeah, I know. It's okay if I don't wear mehendi on my sister's wedding.", the sad smile reappearing on your face as you slowly rub your empty hands together.

In the blink of an eye, your hand was pulled and put on his lap, laying it flat on his thigh. "Ri-", you couldn't complete your sentence. "Look, I am not good at mehendi but I will still try my best. I just don't want you to be this upset on such a nice occasion.", he interrupted, your heart melted.

You chuckled as you saw his hands shake as he tried to copy the design on this phone's Pinterest. After a decade of minutes of him struggling with your mehendi it still came out real nice.

"Ah, done!", he sighned before cracking his neck and smiling at you. The small on your face was pure, how it lit up your eyes staring right at his heart eyes, how you dimples on both sides popped up.

"Aw, thank you, Riki!", you exclaimed in a tone filled with pure joy. "Nah, if you are happy, I am happy too.", he said, leaning back on the settee's arm.

"Hey Riki, can you bring me a glass of water?", the quenching thrist in your dry throat getting harder to hold back anymore. "Ofc!", He said as he ran to the other end of the room, then, filling the water in a paper cup. After he came back to you with the cup of water, you both realise you can't drink it because mehendi in your hand is still not dry yet. "Oh wait, lemme just...", he said while carefully bringing the cup near to your mouth; you blushed, but drank the water silently. He sat beside you after disposing the cup.

After a few minutes he noticed you were admiring his work on your hands but your hair was blocking your view which you were desperately trying to remove by shaking your head, unfortunately failing. He scooted nearer to your body moved your hair out of your face from both the sides, you deeply blushed. You never thought you would be able to spend such a day with your best friend.

After that, you both sat together and gossiped about your toxic aunts before getting called by your mother to see the rituals.

A FEW DAYS LATERRR...

His hand ruffled through your hair as he asked, "do you wanna go and buy a Jhumka?"

Your face lit up with happiness as you nodded furiously.

"this or this?" You asked showing him two beautiful silver jhumkas. "The left one?", he asked thinking hard with on hand on his chin and head tilted. "okay!", you did a small little dance behind him as he paid for your jhumka. You two happily went home with hands intertwined.

THE NEXT DAY...

"How do you propose to a girl?", Riki asked. The question came as a shock to you.

You both are now inside his car infront of a lake.

"well, just be straightforward, maybe?", you sad, trying to cover up the sadness in your voice, "whoever it is....is lucky.", you closed your eyes and leaned back in your seat.

Tapping footsteps, opening of the car door and then you got pulled by Riki outside. "Wait- ?", you tried to speak but he hushed you. You two were now a few steps away from the lake, facing each other with both of you staring into eachother's soul.

You silently watched, confused, while he pulled out both of the hands from the back, one having a bouquet of roses in it. "I love you", he said, pushing the rose bouquet towards you.

And that's when you realised how deeply in love you were with your own best friend. Both of you two's cheeks flushed and an unbreakable silence. You didn't know how to respond. It was Riki who first broke the silence. A loud laughter which made you laugh too. "Oh no, this is so awkward!", he said while wiping a tear away from his eye. "True. But...", you said, "I love you too."

He was shocked. YOU loved him back? The girl of his dreams likes him back? he was truly shocked.

He quickly picked you up from the ground, earning a grasp from you, as you wrap your legs around his waist and join both of you two's foreheads.

"I love you to the Saturn and back"

"I love you so much that I can bring Saturn's ring and put in on your ring finger"

#deluluriddhi #enhypen #being desi #desi love #desiblr #desi humor #desi #enhypen niki #niki #niki x you #niki x reader #niki x y/n #niki fluff #enhypen fluff #enhypen niki fluff #enhypen scenarios #kpop smut #kpop hard hours #kpop hard thoughts #enhypen smut #enha smut #riddhi writes✏️

[shittydrawnsollux]

CC: W)(ile everyone was getting you water and all that good stuff I went back to me )(ive and grabbed you a blanket, sorry its not your favorite colors but it s)(ould keep you comfy all the same! 38)

-@the-worst-drawn-feferi

TA: ehehe thank2 ff iidont miidn about thw colour.

TA: ...

TA: but., hm.

#ask #sollux captor #homestuck #badly drawn #badlydrawn #bdhallowstuck #feferi peixes #the-worst-drawn-feferi #erisolsprite #eridan ampora

[siriuslychessi]

No that @jilytoberfest revealed the authors I can share!

This was made for the Masquerade event for the jilytober fest of 2023. Loved the prompt!

Prompt: I bring my students on a school trip to the museum/zoo/your niche workplace and you are the guide and you are being so nice with the kids, thank you for giving them a good time and hey can I have your number?

AO3 | FF

Under the "Sea"

The Aquarium was a nice place to spend the sunny hour of London’s summer hear wave. The place inside was cooled down, and the reflection of the light inside the tanks made the viewing area feel like you were at the bottom of the ocean with all the fish swimming about.

Lily had to admit that that was one of her favourite ways to spend the day, just admiring the ocean fauna as she escaped the heat and crowds of the street, as well as avoiding her sister at their parents place. 

It was an easy out, she had to admit, she had lied to her parents about needing to go and check the exhibits before school started, make sure her knowledge was up to date for the excursion she had with her class at the beginning of the school year. But a school of clown fish was always better than Tuney’s rant about how she was single and never took care of herself.

Due to the heat of the day she expected the place to be crowded, what she didn’t expect was the amount of people that arrived. Usually parents were busy during the week, but today it seemed that everyone and their little children were over at the aquarium. 

Excitement all around as the kids chased some fishes or sharks and their parents chatted over the colours and shapes trying to engage with the little ones.

Then suddenly there was a collective gasp and a bit of silence before one kid loudly screamed. “Mermaids!”

It was an unusual thing for it to happen, she knew that kids had rambunctious imagination, however, usually it was sprinkle between one or two, but it seemed that all the kids were running to the main tank to see something that apparently Lily was missing. 

Which made her curious.

Reaching the main tank she could see something that shouldn’t be there, there were the typical fish and rays, nothing too harmful or over the top, but then she saw what everyone was excited for. Inside the tank there was a purple haired, and purple tail mermaid, and with her there was a teal haired, with matching tail, merman. They swimmed around the tank, just waving hi to everyone, spinning and swirling inside the water. Sometimes they approached the tank’s glass and blew bubbles and put their hands on the glass to try to get the kids to approach them. 

It was adorable and exciting, and something Lily was not expecting to see on that boring day of summer. 

The kids loved the theatrics, she knew they were just actors with well maid props. She had to admit that the mermaid looked gorgeous, her hair was adorned with a shell crown that matched her top, with pearls all contrasting with the clam shells she had all around. It looked like her crown was effortless on top of her head, but Lily imagined that it was more complicated than using it regularly outside of the water. She kept swimming up and down; the red head imagined to get some air, and tried to go as low as possible, even getting some shells in her hands to show the kids that watched her every move. 

The merman, on the other hand, seemed to have more stamina, he didn’t need to get out of the water as much, but he really liked to go all out with the tricks, showing off his perfect muscles as he looped again, following the ray’s pattern, like he actually knew how to avoid any serious danger, but it still looked daring, and of course he knew his showing off paid off, as he threw kisses to the audience. Lily didn’t like this particular stunt as much as the mermaid, it felt like he was an arrogant toerag, it didn’t help that he winked at her while he was doing his stunts, like he knew she was watching; and she was, but not like that.  

It was professional interest that was all.

Lily watched the rest of the show, just to make sure what else the merpeople would do for a show. It was super entertaining for the small kids, and at some point one of the staff from the aquarium started to explain the maritime life that was swimming in the tank, and how either mermaid was interacting to make sure their life was not perturbed and the safety that needed to be maintain, also wrapping a take of how to take care of the Ocean’s life, which made it easier for the kids to wrap her minds around, and made the adults bring them more often to the beaches and aquariums as the kids would always love to see the mermaids. 

Lily had to say she was impressed. It wasn’t something she was expecting, and she loved the idea, her kids would ADORE the idea of coming to the aquarium and get to see the mermaids. 

Maybe she would be able to get the mermaid to talk to her kids, so they could ask a couple of questions, be more interested in the oceans and its life. They already had the trip approved by the school, maybe she could try and get some more information and get things started?

Asking the staff how to find this out was easy, they really liked the idea of the school trip becoming more involved, that is what the merpeople initiative wanted, however, she needed to clear it with the department in charge of the programming, and that was not outside of the guest area. 

One of the people outside guided her to a backdoor, where you could see the offices for the aquarium, the not so glamorous side of the business, where clerical work was assigned. They told her to go inside, pass 4 doors, and then to the left she would see the entrance to the mermaid tanks where the people in charge of the show would be.

She did as instructed and knocked on the door before entering. She heard a conversation mid sentence, they were two male staff members talking. 

“Prongs, mate, you need to approach the glass, or else the clients won’t interact with you. You know how Minnie likes the interactions.”

“I know, Padfoot, I know, but I’m blind without my glasses, I was afraid that I would just smash against the bloody thing.” someone mumbled, seemingly struggling with something. But Lily figured it was the merman and one of his fellow co-workers. 

“What happened to your contacts? I thought you had them? You approached Fred and George not being able to see?” The other voice was a bit concerned, as Lily turned the corner. 

It seemed the lack of interaction was justified, and Lily felt a little bad to have judged the performer harshly, but her thoughts became blank as she saw the merman, sitting, half naked, just wiggling out of his tail. 

Lily understood the male body, she had to be prepared to do biology for some of her classes, but if you asked her at gunpoint what took over her mind at that moment, she would only be able to reply: muscles .

It was unprofessional, she knew, but sweet lord, if she thought she had seen those muscles work at the tank, she was mistaken. Up close and out of the water, the merman looked even better than with the costume. How was that even possible? Did he train for everything to be in the perfect place? That had to be illegal, she needed to report these to someone, she ought, but she could barely form a word, much less make a statement on how unfair this was for the rest of the human race. 

She thought she could step back, and take control over her thoughts before asking for the person in charge when someone interrupted her thoughts. 

“Are you coming in?” a woman’s voice asked, trying to get through the door. 

“Oh… I…” she cleared her throat, and took a moment, the woman looked familiar, and then she noticed why, “You’re the mermaid.” it wasn’t a question.

The blonde chuckled, “Usually I’m called Marlene,” she offered amicably. “But still, are you coming in or out?” 

“Oh! Sorry, I just realised that you and the mermaid are the same person, the purple wig threw me out a bit.” Lily replied with a smile, “I was going in? I was actually looking for you? I guess?”

“Me?” The blonde asked. 

“Love, who's there?” one of the voices called from inside. 

“Someone calling for me, taking me away.” Marlene added dramatically, giving Lily a knowing smile. 

“What do you mean take you away? To where? By whom?” a dark haired man came to view as Marlene tried not to burst into laughter. He was tall and had long hair in a bun that was made to look put together, but it was still messy for a professional setting, but Lily had a feeling he liked it like that. “Are you taking my girlfriend away?” He finally asked the teacher, “I didn’t know Mars had a thing for redheads.”

“Sirius, stop.” she laughed, “I apologise about him, he’s incorrigible.” she said to the redhead, “And she’s a customer, I think?”

“Oh, don’t everyone have a thing for redheads?” Lily replied.

Sirius laughed at the comment. “I like you, Red.”

“The name is Lily,” she replied, not really annoyed, just providing a name, as she hadn’t introduced herself. 

“Pleasure, Sirius, and you met wonderful Marlene.” he said, shaking her hand.

“Yes, I have, she was amazing at the show. That’s why I’m here actually.” she paused and looked between Marlene and Sirius, trying to avoid looking beyond them, to the still struggling figure behind them. “I wanted to ask if you do sort of meet and greets? I have a school excursion with my class, and I’m sure they would love to ask more about the aquarium and meet a mermaid.” Lily explained, hoping that she was in the right place. 

“Oh! That’s lovely! I do do that.” Marlene replied. “I love kids, however, if you want a more educational experience, I would recommend you go to one of our other performers, as I’m more of an actress, they do have some people that know more than me.” 

“Really? I mean you do great with audiences.”

“She really does, but for the boring stuff you should go with Jimbo.”

“Jimbo?” Lily asked, confused about the name. 

“Yeah, Jimbo, the big oaf there.” he pointed to the man behind them that finally managed to put the tails away and was starting to get the wig out of his hair, his hand going to mess his hair, as it seemed to be too slick on his head due to having the wig on for water. 

“I’ve told you to stop calling me Jimbo.” Lily heard the still half naked man behind Sirius and Marlene, why couldn’t that man put a shirt on? Was he against shirts? Not that Lily minded, it was just hard to concentrate.

It seemed that he heard Lily’s internal monologue, because he was reaching for a shirt to put on, as Sirius replied “Fine, Mr Potter, better?”

“Arse,” James mumbled, after pulling the shirt on and moving closer to Lily, giving his hand out to shake, “I’m James Potter, head of the department.” he smiled, trying to be professional, but his hand twitched and moved to mess his hair again, “I apologise, I usually don’t take appointments after being in the tank.” he smiled again, “May I know exactly what you wish to, see what can be done on our end, Mrs…”

“Miss, Lily Evans, pleasure.” she shook his hand, calloused and warm, even after just leaving the water. Odd. “I teach third grade, and my school is sending the kids here the first week of term. I wanted to see if it would be possible to get a meet and greet, get them asking questions about the fauna you have in the tanks, that sort of thing?”

“Yes, of course, we can book that in.” he said with a nod trying to get something from his pockets, but he still was in the neoprene lower suit to fit inside of the tail, “I apologise I forgot I have my mobile at the office, would you mind coming with me to get this sorted?”

“Would it be possible to make a call later on? I need to request this from the headmaster at school, I’m sure they will approve but you know how it might be.”

Marlene chuckled, “Don’t we all?”

Lily had to admit that she liked Marlene in and out of the water, she was a bit disappointed that she wouldn’t be the one greeting the kids. “If I could get a number I can call later this week, I would make sure to get all the details.”

“Of course, you can have mine, I’ll get it on the agenda once we sort everything.” James replied, and Lily nodded thankfully, exchanging details so they could be in contact. 

The outing to the Aquarium was more productive than she early expected, even if she didn’t get the mermaid she wanted, she got something other school years might not get, so all in all it was a win.

Getting Alastor to approve the one on one with the mermaid was simple enough, he was glad that she took the initiative and applauded that she decided to include kids outside of her classroom.

She got all the details for 2nd and 3rd grade classes, there would be around 50 kids in total, and she needed to make sure James could fit all of those in just one meeting, or if they should be divided by groups, how to work it out, and how much more it would be. She had everything sorted when she dialled his number. 

The conversation was easy and professional, James made a few jokes that Lily found funny, it wasn’t odd, and he wasn’t as obnoxious as she believed at first sight. He actually seemed to care about his job, and made sure she understood the schedules and performances that needed to happen so they could fit all the kids that would want to meet a mermaid, make sure to stay on point, to teach them about the things that they were supposed to be there to see. And not deviate too much from the topics. 

In a few short weeks everything that James and Lily talked about was a reality, the kids saw him swim in the tank, he was more engaging with the people in the crowd. He must’ve gotten his contacts on, today. Lily thought as she saw the performance. Marlene was gorgeous as always, she felt a little envious at how lovely she looked in the water.

James was still as daring, but actually managed to get some of the kids engaged to the tank, he played patty cakes with some, and with the smaller ones he played peek-a-boo, which Lily thought was adorable, and the kids ate it all up. 

She hadn’t felt an excursion was as successful until she saw what the meet actually looked like. She thought James would be sitting on a chair with his tail all made to look like he just got out of the water, but in reality he was in a big tank that was decorated to get the kid’s attention. James was out of the water at the top, just up enough for everyone in the room to see him, but low enough so he could engage with the staff, and his tail could be seen swaying inside the water. The kids could not take their eyes off him.

Neither could Lily.

“Look, it's the mermaid!” One of her kids exclaimed, “Wotcher mermaid!” Little Tonks exclaimed from the seats they had taken. 

“He’s not a mermaid, he is a man!” Little Percy replied from the back of the crowd. 

“Hullo!” James replied back to Tonks and then shrugged, the best he could as he was propped from the tank,” I don’t mind mermaid or merman. Did you know fish can change from being boys to being girls if they think it is useful? Isn’t that wicked?”

“No way!” A tall kid named Bill from another class replied back. 

“Way! They can change for a lot of reasons, because of their size, or the age they have, or they just feel like boys instead of girls, or vice versa. There are a lot of brilliant things that fish can do. And I’m part fish, so I should know.”

“Have you ever tried to change and be a girl?” Percy asked again.

“No, I quite like being a boy, but it’s an interesting question. Do you think if I do, my tail would change colours?”

It was a random question, something that was not as serious as fish sequential hermaphroditism, but it certainly kept the eyes of the kids on him. Which Lily had to admire, not everyone could command a room full of kids to their attention.

James sold the part completely, he went in the water to get some “air” as fish survived on water, and explained how gills worked, how fish turned water into oxygen as we did with air. He added the names of the rays, and Bill said he had twin little brothers with those names, making James laugh. 

It all went perfect, Lily couldn’t have asked for a better interaction with the children. They couldn’t stop talking about the aquarium, and about maybe having pet fishes and taking care of them and the oceans. 

Once the kids left and Lily was safely back home she still had the image of James’ smile and his quick replies in her mind. She took her cellphone out and typed a quick message.

Lily: Thank you for today, it was perfect, the kids loved it. 

James: I’m glad they enjoyed it! They look like brilliant kids.

Lily: They really are. And you handled them perfectly, I thought we would have kids running away from the meet.

James: Thanks for the faith, Evans. 

Lily: They almost run away from my classroom when I try to teach them maths, it’s nothing personal, Potter.

James: Fair, but still, it seems they have a great teacher.

Lily: Thank you

A few minutes passed and Lily looked at her screen, she saw the name still on it, the conversation was simple, and to the point. Which she hated. 

For some reason she found herself desiring to get something more to talk about, to get the conversation going, to get to see what he would reply with. Maybe see him clumsily forgetting that he had a phone to begin with and being natural at just human interaction, being a great person to both kids and adults. Lily couldn’t help to shake the feeling that she shouldn’t stop the conversation just at that ‘thank you’.

Lily: Potter, are you free on Saturday?

Her heart was going as fast as possible without her dying. How would he react? Would he tell her that he had a compromise? That he was actually with someone? Did it look like she was asking him out? Or maybe it wasn’t too obvious?

Lily hated doubting herself like that, she was usually more assertive. She wasn’t sure what that man was doing to her.

James: Yes, why do you want me to dress as a merman again?

Lily could feel the joking manner of the in the reply, his jovial self shining through. 

Lily: No, not really, I was wondering if you would be up to get coffee?

The seconds that passed after she sent the last message felt like eternity. She was sure she made a fool of herself. That James would tell her their relationship was just business. 

What came next surprised her.

James: Name the hour and place, and it’s a date.

#jily #james potter #lily evans #jilytober #jilytoberfest2023 #prongs #padfoot #mine

[listlessdionysian]

A Song For the End Times Chapter One: A Darkest Dungeon FF

Chapter One

In which a jester joins a company of mercenaries - a band of heroes are revealed to be going through the motions - and the company's tenuous grip on sanity begins to fray

The hamlet, a solitary island buoyed by a sea of mud. Its buildings irregular and eccentric - bare timbers scavenged from anything that lingered close by for long enough. Signs of damage and recovery frozen in an unending cycle. The wheels of the carriage cut deep welts through the muck. Welts that were soon swollen with stagnant water and then lost. The land itself resisted human markings. Any monument that lingered signalled defiance and arrogance in equal measure.

The carriage ground to a halt. It's driver hauling hard on the reigns, tongue between his teeth, eyes dancing with an old if familiar delight. The horses screamed, hooves rearing and then gouging the sodden earth. At last - once the violence of its arrested momentum had abated - the carriage came to a rest outside the single inn. It lacked a sign or a name, needing neither. Either you knew it existed, in which case it was an essential if singular place of rest and recovery, or you did not. Dim light through the greasy windows. A single remaining shutter drifted on a solitary hinge, threatening to spill into the mud below. Its fellows had long since been taken and repurposed. Lumber was lumber, after all.

A door in the carriage's side banged open, and a single boot with a curled toe emerged. It's bright motley red, a singular slash of colour in that drab place. It was followed by a pair of striped leggings and a dark jerkin. But it was the face that arrested the eye. Mainly that it was hidden behind a white porcelain mask. It turned skyward to face the rain, a pair of green eyes dimly visible in the dark, crinkled eyeholes. Those eyes blinked as the fat drops struck the mask and ran in rivulets. Though their expression was obscured, we must assume they were smiling.

After all, what else are jesters for?

The jester's tread was light across the mud, barely leaving an imprint. Neither they nor the Hamlet's filth seemed to want much to do with the other. As soon as they disembarked, the driver’s whip snapped, the horses screamed once more and the carriage wheeled about and began its gradual disappearance along the solitary, ruined road back to the world. The jester did not turn around and pushed open the inn's door.

Light and heat and body odor struck them in a physical wall. Incense and cloves to disguise the stink of sweat and subtle undertones of rot and mildew. Bare wooden boards underfoot strewn with sodden reeds and stale herbs, in a half-hearted gesture at hygiene. A rude chandelier set in the rafters between him and the bar, its candles guttering and spitting. Benches along the walls and the occasional table with low stools. All of them full. The jester's eyes alighted on each person in turn, although struggled to find any cohesion to them.

Words like motley and rabble seemed insignificant to the disharmonious mix of people in that room. Doctors and clerics sharing tables with life-bitten mercenaries with big hands and unresting eyes. Knights and old soldiers picking over the desiccated carcass of some animal the host had attempted to roast. Occultists and poachers, slobbering maniacs and feather hatted musketeers. A collision of fanatics, mercenaries, the desperate, the dying, and those that dreamed of oblivion.

The jester had never felt more at home.

The wavering light caught their worn weapons and armour. Old and often used, never given the opportunity to rust, and the jester was certain every man and woman knew their business well. Conversation was scant, muted, their minds elsewhere. An air of waiting. Of prized fighters gasping for air between bouts, knowing the next round is imminent and desperate to claim every scant moment of rest. A few pairs of eyes tracked the jester's progress across the floor, but there was little interest. They had seen many pass this way. There will be many more in the days to come.

The innkeeper was a large broad man who wore his vest without a shirt. Greying back hair curling up past his shoulders. To give him his credit, while he embodied the perfect ideal of a grim country innkeeper, he made no attempt to pretend to polish the cups and tankards. His patrons drank often enough that there was no need. Only one other man stood at the bar - a miserable shriveled creature in an oversized frock coat missing several brass buttons. Hair sprouting in irregular tufts. A frozen, crazed and crooked smile. This man trembled where he stood and spoke in fits and bursts of conversation.

'Busy?' this man said, the word sounding more like a convulsion of his stomach.

'Always,' the innkeeper said, watching the jester approach, repeating his lines from an old and tired script, 'Getting busier every day.'

'Terrible,' the shaking man said in another spasm.

The innkeeper nodded, then spoke to the jester.

'Work, drink, or directions?'

The Jester inclined their head in a gentle bow, then spoke.

'Presumably, I need the latter to obtain the former,' their voice was genderless, a depth and tone firmly in the middle. A sense of warmth, the hint of a smile, and the barest suggestion of teeth, 'No offence intended gentle sir, but I doubt neither you nor this gentleman are who I'm looking for.'

 The innkeeper pursed his lips, flicked his hand and the gestured to the stairs.

'Up one floor, then right. Second door. The second floor is for something else.

'Alternative entertainment?' the smile in the jester's voice deepened.

'As you say.'

The jester swept a deeper bow, theatrical and unnecessary, before straightening and mounting the stairs. They lingered at the intersection on the upper floors, listening to the little gasps and muffled passion drifting down from the second flight of stairs. The sobs, the pleas, the confessions. They tutted and shook their head.

'My my,' they said.

The upper floors formed a rude ‘L’, with the landing curving around to the right to form little more than a narrow walkway with railings on one side overlooking the bar below, and room doors to the left. Studying the frames, each room had been forcefully entered at least once. Even the railing had been broken and repaired a couple of times.

On the second door hung a sign:

Knock or Die

The jester made a fist, poised, and then considered. Temptation proving top great they gripped the knob and gave it a turn. Then everything went quiet. Absolute silence for a heartbeat, perhaps more. A great feeling of dislocation from the world around them. Everything strange and distant. Then their head cleared and they inspected the smoking hole in the door, an inch to the left of their head, and the fine spray of splinters on the floor. 

The sound itself of the gunshot came back to them, then, but as a memory. They'd heard it but some part of their mind had rejected it from all conscious thought. The jester shook their head clear and then knocked.

'Still alive then?' said a voice, male, older, distracted or tired, 'Come in then.'

'Apologies,' the jester said, entering the room and closing the door behind them, 'That sign posed to great a temptation.'

The room was of a modest size, larger than the jester had assumed, and was neat if sparsely furnished. A bed, a wash basin, a table, and a chest. On the table was a worn and stained map and reading the map was a man. Below average size, stocky frame but wirily built, his shirt yellowed with age and repeated wear, and his dark vest fraying around the edges. On the table beside him was a still smoking flintlock pistol, which in turn stopped the map rolling up.

The man didn't look up. One slender finger traced a route, while the other picked at the red scarf around his neck.

'It’s a test,' the man said.

'I see.'

'If you can't follow orders, you'll die. Today, tomorrow, next week. Kinder to get it over with early.'

'Understood.'

'Got a name?' his brows furrowed, and he bent closer to the map. The jester's eyes darted to the shattered longsword mounted on the wall above his bed. Greasy fingerprints where the man had touched the blade. Touched it often.

'Never needed one. Past employers preferred to refer to me by profession.'

The man looked up at them, for the first time. Cold grey eyes. Tired beyond words, beyond sanity. A thin carapace holding it all in. The man took in the jester's clothes, the lute slung on their back, and lowered his gaze again. He snorted and shook his head.

'Of course,' the man said, 'After this week. Why not?'

A silence followed. The man occupied himself with the map. At times it seemed that the man had forgotten him, but the jester guessed this man forgot nothing - and that was part of the trouble.

'Besides the lute, what else have you got? He said, eventually.

'Beside my endless charm and cutting wit? Nothing.'

'Look, I've got former game keepers down there that can cut a reel on a pennywhistle, but they can also gut a man and disappear the body between tea breaks. So unless-'

'Well, there are these,' the jester said producing a sickle and a dirk. The jester never liked to reveal where they hid things or how they produced them, firmly believing their personal value lied in an affected guise of mystique.

The man blinked.

'Sorry, sometimes I forget I have them,' the jester said.

The man nodded. Something seemed to drain out of him then. An air of condemning another to a terrible sentence he knew all too well. His face grew lax, gaze distant and unfixed - drifting downward and away from the jester.

'Dismas,' he said, after a moment. He sighed, 'My name is Dismas. Let's get you situated.'

***

Dismas walked with the stiff alertness of a man used to being ambushed. Shoulders squared, hands at his side – but the jester knew that Dismas would have no trouble reaching the brace of pistols on the bandolier he wore over his vest. Crossing the bar, Dismas exchanged cursory nods and twitches of the lip (which the Jester took for smiles) with some of the mercenaries around the room. When one, a pale young woman in a long coat and a tall wide brimmed hat, moved to rise from her bench to approach, Dismas shook his head. She inclined her head and sat down again without argument.

Dismas pushed open the door and they stepped out into the gloom, lingering beneath the eaves for a moment to watch the rain.

‘Your people show you a great deal of respect. I presume they’re well paid,’ the jester said, joining him. The rain fell in a near-solid sheet on the devastated mud underfoot, driving it down towards the main square where it pooled and lapped against a solitary tree festooned with various trinkets and amulets.

'Three years,' Dismas said, almost shouting over the rain as it slammed down onto the tent canopies around them, 'Three years we've been circling the drain. Used to be able to fit all of us in the barracks behind the inn, but now-'

He gestured to the tents around them. They choked the roads, their contents nearly spilling out. Beds and chairs, vases and urns looted on previous expositions into the surrounding wilderness. The road sloped up and away from them, a dilapidated hospital behind the tents, a church in better condition high up on the hill. If the jester needed a visual reminder of how dire things had become, it lay in the ever growing graveyard beneath the church.

Even at a distance they could see the slanted stone grave markers giving way to crude, rain sodden boards, before subsiding into crude mounds. The size suggesting more than one body was interred within.

'I've got bodies to spare, gold pouring out of my ears, but we're getting nowhere,' Dismas continued as they passed the last cluster of tents. The canvas gave way to a rude junction, little more than a place where one road ended, and another began. It's borders so ill-defined it may have occurred organically, 'We've delved the ruins, scoured the coastal caves, mapped the surrounding forests and-'

He fell silent, mouth working soundlessly. His gaze grew distant - drawn by the weight of all those years fighting and struggling and losing friends and comrades again and again without hope of success.

'Bad leadership?' the jester offered.

'No leadership. We had someone, once. Some distant heir to the manse to the north and all this' Dismas waved a hand at the disordered scene around them, 'Then two years ago they disappeared. We were ready for the final push, retake the manse, end whatever godforsaken curse that lived there. Then we could go home.'.

A wagon clattered by. In the driver's seat, a bearded man with deep swallow features. At first the jester thought he had a rug across his lap, until the rug's ear gave a twitch and it opened one eye. One of the biggest dogs they'd ever seen sat up on creaking haunches and regarded them through watery eyes.

'It all went fuck-up,' Dismas said, bringing the jester back, 'We weren't ready. We'd faced every monster and creature there was. The undead, things from beyond the stars. But that- whatever is up there.'

A strange weakness came over him. Dismas had begun to gesticulate wildly, his every gesture a fresh attack on the air around him. But he slowed. His hands trembled. His fingertips sought his temples and he closed his eyes for a moment, then breathed through his nose.

'The heir left. I'm all that's left, the one whose been here the longest. So I keep us alive. I keep us safe. No one goes up there again.'

The jester bobbed their head, 'Wonderful orientation. Very dramatic. I can feel the esprit de corps already.'

Dismas regarded them for a moment, eyes half shaded by their palm. Anger, resignation, exhaustion in his eyes. Then he lowered his hand.

'Set up in the camp behind the smithy. Paixdecours will see you settled.'

Dismas straightened, prior weakness forgotten, and walked straight backed and tightly wound across the sodden square. The jester watched them go, one long finger tapping at the chin of their mask.

Perhaps they were smiling again.

***

Paixdecours, it turned out, was a large man in his later years. Short grey hair thinning at the temples and brow. A close shorn beard beneath an eyepatch and a deep, vicious scar that ran from the bridge of his nose to the corner of his lip. His armour dented and pitted but clear of rust, a Morningstar slung through a leather loop at his waist. The pommel banged against his thigh as he strode up and down shouting.

 ‘Stow that,’ he shouted, jabbing a thick gloved finger at a chest half out of its tent and half in the rain, ‘Christ almighty, your soldiers not vagabonds. What’re you smirking at?’

The jester blinked as they realised this last was directed at them. Paixdecours hadn’t bothered to look around. Stood with his arms folded watching a knight in armour – there was a sight – stooping to lift the chest.

‘Admiring the view. It’s not often to see one of the common soldiery, an officer if I don’t miss my guess, bossing around the nobility,’ the jester said.

Paixdecours turned his head, fixed the jester with his one eye, and frowned.

‘Titles are for out there,’ he said, ‘Here, you earn your rank.’

‘Message received, captain,’ the jester cut a deep bow. The bells on their four pronged hat sweeping low, giving a faint jingle that cut through the roar of the downpour.

‘Dismas sent you,’ Paixdecours said.

‘Indeed,’ the jester straightened, ‘he said you would get me settled.’

Paixdecours snorted and made for an empty tent. The jester followed. It wasn’t much – a lattice of reclaimed wood lashed together in a hurry, but the canvas was without holes despite the stains. A straw bed, a lantern, even a chair for sitting. Paixdecours gestured at the meagre furnishings.

‘It’s not much, but it’s what we have. Anything extra you supply yourself. Whatever you find out there, you keep a percentage but the bulk goes to the camp,’ he turned, towering over the jester. Seeming to fill the space, drinking or smothering the light. He pressed his finger into the jester’s slim chest, the tip xylophoning against their ribs, ‘Is that understood?’

It was better than the jester had hoped for. They would’ve settled for a hot meal and somewhere dry – loot was just a bonus.

‘Absolutely.’

Paixdecours held his finger firm for a moment, then relaxed and withdrew his hand. His eyes never left the jester’s mask. Whatever he was looking for, he was unlikely to find. Though bright, there was an impassive coldness to the jester’s eyes that even Paixdecours found difficult to look at for too long.

‘Got a name?’ Paixdecours said.

‘Yes. But not one I’m willing to use.’

‘Fair enough. Jester do?’

The jester nodded.

‘Alright then, Jester. Rest up – you’re heading out at first light. Assemble in front of the smithy and we’ll get a cart to take you down.’

‘Where am I going?’

Paixdecours had made his way to the tent’s mouth, facing out to the rain, frowning at something else. He spared the Jester a final glance and gave an apologetic shrug.

‘You’re going to the Ruins, lad. Everyone has to sometime.’

And then he was gone.

The jester watched the rain take him, until the man-at-arms disappeared altogether. They sat in their chair and removed the oil cloth protecting their lute. It took some time for them to finish checking it over for signs of damage from the road and the rain. But the strings still seemed fresh, and a gentle pluck produced a sweet, bright note. The tuning pegs responded to their touch.

With nothing to do but wait, the jester crossed their legs, plucked a few hesitant notes, and then began to play a song of home. Outside – those close enough to hear slowed in their work. Their minds grew clouded and distracted, drawn to bright warm images of childhood, of safety. Of a time before their present, oppressive nightmare.

Before the heavens truly opened and all sound was lost in the deluge

__________

A bit of fun thrown together while I'm piecing together some other projects. I'll add to this here and there, even if it's for my own amusement.

EDIT: Chapter two is here.

#darkest dungeon #fan fiction #dd jester #dd highwayman #dd man at arms #dd dismas #dismas

[stray-kaz]

On Blind Faith : a Matt Murdock x reader FF : FIVE

You sat on the floor of the shower, the warm water soaking through your pjs, uncaring. You knew the spray wasn’t going to wash away the shame you were feeling; it burned in your face and wormed its way through your chest and into your stomach. If it weren’t for Luca waking and crying out for you, you would have just stayed in the shower until the water ran out.

You clambered out of the shower, shed your dripping clothes on the floor and dried off, before heading back to the bedroom to dress.

Out in the living area, Matt perched on the top edge of the couch, listening. He tilted his head toward the sound of your wet clothes sliding down your skin and then your footsteps returning to the bedroom. He could hear you huffing and muttering to yourself, your heart still beating a heavy tattoo against your rib cage.

You came out in a summer dress that floated around your knees, sending a faint remnant of your scent towards Matt and his sensitive nose. Your hair still wet, you had Luca propped on your hip and still a little half asleep. You noticed immediately that Matt hadn’t dressed yet, choosing instead to wait for you in only his underwear and nothing else.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked you, his voice sounding a little lower than usual. “Over the nightmare, beautiful?”

Your eyes widened at the moniker and you stopped moving, hefting Luca a little higher. You could hear the slightly amused tone in Matt’s voice, but you didn’t understand why; after all, you hadn’t told him anything. You hadn’t told him about your dream, the dream in which he was putting his mouth to good use and his hands were everywhere.

“Yep” you muttered, sitting down as far from him on the couch as you could get.

“You hungry?”

Your stomach growled in response and he laughed, leaping off the couch and wandering away to get dressed.

“There’s a great diner just down the street” he called over his shoulder. “They have high chairs.”

You dropped a kiss on Luca’s soft hair.

“This man will be the death of me” you murmured against him, unaware Matt heard it all.

Minutes later, you were on the street, Matt’s cane clacking away in front of you, Luca weighing in your arms. The early heat was rapidly drying your hair, lending it a slight curl. Matt’s arm brushed yours with every step, spiking your pulse every time, until you were sure your blood pressure was through the clouds. And, to make things worse, you knew now that he could hear it. But you didn’t know that he could smell you.

The diner did indeed have high chairs, and was painted a sunny yellow. A waitress handed you a colouring book and a box of crayons and guided you to a booth with a high chair set alongside. You thanked her and she smiled, holding up her notebook with a flourish.

“What’ll it be?”

You ordered quickly, making sure there was something Luca could eat, and wrestled him into the high chair, clipping him securely in place. You sat down opposite Matt as he folded the cane and set it on the table next to his elbow.

The glass window exploded a foot away from his head. You went for Luca and Matt dove for you, and the three of you slammed to the floor, Matt’s arm cushioning Luca’s head as he hit the floor, wailing. Heart pounding, ears ringing, you stared at Matt; small bleeding cuts flecked his face from shattered glass and his eyes were wild but focused. He grasped your face with one hand, thumb stroking firmly over your cheekbone, and you could almost have sworn he could see you.

“Run” he said softly. “Take Luca and go.”

“What about you?” you demanded, panic rising.

He shook his head.

“I’ll be fine. Now go!”

You detached Luca from the high chair, tucked his head into your neck and ran. A familiar voice shouted your name, but you didn’t dare look or stop moving. You sprinted the whole block back to Matt’s building and barely breathed until you were inside the elevator, leaning against the wall, Luca pressed against your heartbeat. As soon as the elevator dinged, you were out and shoving Matt’s spare key into the lock.

The next thirty minutes were the longest of your life, waiting for Matt to walk in the door you couldn’t stop staring at. When he finally did, his lower lip was cut and there was a dark bruise already forming below his left eye, but he was upright and moving with surety. There was no time to speak. He stalked right to you, hauled you up by your shoulders and kissed you square on the mouth. He swallowed your quiet whimper of surprise as his fingers gentled their grip on your shoulders and moved up to cup your jaw.

He pulled away suddenly, chest heaving for air. You stared up at him, stunned into silence. He paced away, then came back to you, his hands hovering in the air by your face, as if waiting for permission this time.

“Say my name” he said lowly, gaze intense and dark. “Please say it.”

“Why?” you asked breathlessly, confused, mind gone blank.

“I love the way you say it. Please, beautiful girl.”

Your lips trembled and he ran the pad of his thumb over them until they opened over his name.

“Matthew...”

He groaned and swept you up again, his arms crossing over your back to hold you as close as he could, crushing your chest to his. His tongue licked a hot stripe from your jaw to your ear, where he paused to speak, whispering low.

“I know what really happened this morning” he told you. “I know you were dreaming about me. I could smell you. What was I doing, hmm? Something like this?”

His palm nudged your legs apart under your dress and pushed against your covered heat, and just as your knees threatened to give way, the loft door banged open and Foggy came storming inside, Karen hot on his trail. Matt withdrew his hand quick as lightning, but maintained his position in front of you, all too aware of how you were swaying into him, barely able to keep your eyes open.

Foggy came up short and Karen eyed your flushed, dishevelled state and the swollen pink of your lips, your body leaning into Matt’s as if he was the only thing keeping you standing.

“Whatever is happening right now, I don’t want to know” Foggy announced. “But what the heck happened at Bea’s Diner?”

You looked at Matt, also wanting to know.

“Her ex brought some buddies to shoot it up. He’s a real charmer.”

You looked down and bit your lip, then felt a tug on your leg. Luca had crawled over to you; you bent to pick him up, your pulse rate slowly returning to something resembling normal.

“Are you guys okay?” Karen asked, glancing over you and your baby with concern. “Matt, you look like you got hit by a taxi.”

He shook his head.

“No, just a jealous ex boyfriend.”

Rage flowered in your chest and spilled over.

“He hit you?” you demanded, furious.

Matt nodded.

“He caught me leaving after you and managed a few punches. But, like I said, I can take care of myself.”

His blind gaze lingered on you a little longer than necessary, and the heat in it made the others look away and try to find something else to focus on.

“Are you coming into work today?” Foggy asked eventually.

“Yes. I’ll be late, though.”

Karen nodded and started to pull Foggy back towards the door.

“We understand. See you when we see you.”

The door closed at their backs and Matt stepped back up to you, ducking his head to brush his lips feather light over yours, leaving you quivering like a leaf.

“I’m not finished with you” he murmured against your mouth. “And you’ll finish before I do, hmm?”

A small, startled squeak sounded from you and his eyebrows rose in surprise.

“That’s never happened for you before?” he asked.

You hesitated, then shook your head. He kissed your forehead.

“Another thing to be sorry for” he said softly. “I’ll fix it. But first, breakfast.”

Tagging: @succsessions​ @harringtonstudios​ @emiemiemiii​

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #liss writes #marvel

[queerrocket]

"so manny"

Oh god okay so- (this is about my tags on a post about Danny)

I don’t know if this makes much sense, I’ve had thoughts about Danny swimming around in my periphery for a while and anon’s ask has brought forth a bunch of word vomit, so proceed at your own risk :)

So Danny’s main thing going for him (his character) is that he’s an ex-soldier and he perceives the doctor as a kind of general/leader figure (during his experience in the army as a person of colour suffering from ptsd he would have, imo, encountered a lot of shitty people that looked and occasionally acted like the doctor -not that the show even touches on this, like at all) he sees the whole -you don’t need a gun because you make other people use them for you- and, while he’s certainly right that the doctor does do this and he does it repeatedly (though mostly without meaning too, if he were able to pull his head out of his ass in those situations he’d absolutely try and stop someone he cared about from hurting themselves (Adeline Brook in Waters of Mars) or someone else (Clara going to kill Missy and 12 not letting her in Death in Heaven) except the point is that he doesn’t realise what he’s doing until it’s too late anywayss).

Danny’s misunderstanding occurs when he equates this defining characteristic of the Doctor’s with cowardice. If asked I’m sure the doctor would easily admit to being a coward (there’s a quote around this or something but I’m blanking), but he isn’t, of course he isn’t. Why? Because of what happened that one time he Stopped running away. TLDR: bye bye all of gallifrey. See also: 12s speech in the Zygon inversion (probably my all time favourite monologue that I’ve ever seen) (also also, in the 50th novelisation by Moffat, river wiped 11’s memory of how many children were on Gallifrey, this is why 11 says ‘spoilers’ when asked by 10, River saw the person that he was or would be with that information, she saw the general, the gun wielding -I’m no longer the Doctor doctor- and erased it (there’s an autonomy debate here, you could argue she saved him and the universe or whatnot but that isn’t the point of this post ffs) she’s actively working against the Doctor becoming the person Danny assumes he already is) And to give Danny some credit, there’s know way he could know these things.

Danny also sees the influence the Doctor has over Clara and fails to realise that it goes both ways. His first thought is that the Doctor is her space dad (lol what?), essentially he defaults to the Doctor being the authority in their (Clara and the doctor’s) dynamic. I think part of what Clara was trying to show him with that whole Danny invisible in the Tardis bit in The Caretaker was that the above wasn’t true. Though I mean obviously it is, to varying degrees, Clara not only isn’t the one flying the Tardis, she can’t, she’s human, he’s a time lord ect. Something that Steven Moffat touched on in one of the interviews he did as he was leaving the show that always stuck with me (and I might’ve mentioned it before) was how he’d try and balance the dynamic in the Tardis with a third party like river or Rory or Danny because otherwise the balance is wonky. So Danny isn’t wrong necessarily and you especially can’t blame him for looking at the circumstances through the lens of his experiences and wanting to protect Clara from a similar situation.

We also get that bit of tension in Death in Heaven when the Doctor wants to know cybermen shit but Danny can’t access it or whatever, I mean I’m not crazy about this moment but it works as a good set up/reminder of Danny’s opinions/perception of the Doctor for the audience so that when the Doctor does hand over the bracelet and control, it’s a good moment. I mean I like death in heaven so much, missy is perfect ofc but mainly for the Doctor and Clara’s dynamic. That’s what the audience cares about and Danny ultimately functions as a tool to play with this dynamic, his death facilitates that fantastic sequence with the volcano ect. This does not a great character make and if they were never going to do more with Danny (and they certainly could’ve, the Doctor generally aligns himself with friends who bring out the best in him, watching him with someone who actively expects the worst would definitely be interesting) I’m glad they used his death for what they did and I’m still glad he was in the show.

So yeah, uh thanks for the ask :) do I know what I’m talking about? Maybe not, you decide 😅.

#dw #dw meta #might add more later if I think of anything else

[papillon82fluttersby]

Famous Five Art Nostalgia #12

Introductory post

Five Go Down to the Sea – Le Club des Cinq au bord de la mer

Original publication date: 1953 (UK), 1959 (France)

(Original cover by Aldo de Amicis, 1959)

Whereas most of the illustrations for the first edition of the FF series were divided between two artists (first Simone Baudouin, then Jeanne Hives), this book stands out for having a different illustrator: Aldo de Amicis. Sadly, this guy follows the trend initiated by Baudouin and also swaps Dick and Julian’s hair colour. Sigh.

~~~~~~

Plot summary (adapted from Wikipedia):

Siblings Julian, Dick and Anne, and their cousin Georgina 'George' and her dog, Timmy, spend a holiday at a coastal farm in Cornwall. There, they are nicely welcomed and hosted by the garrulous Mrs Penruthlan [Mme Penlan] and her enormous husband, whose monosyllabic utterances they find incomprehensible and quite funny. The children encounter a young boy named Yan (Jan) [Yan (Jean)], as well as a group of travelling entertainers called the Barnies [les Barnies].

(Young Yan is exceedingly curious about the Five, but also very skittish)

(George picks up a leaflet promoting the Barnies’ upcoming shown)

The children learn that long ago, villainous locals would shine a light on stormy nights to direct ships onto rocks to wreck them, and the vessels would be smashed and their cargoes washed ashore and stolen. Julian and Dick discover a light is again being shone at night, so the children set out to solve the mystery.

(Right after seeing the mysterious light being shone at night, the boys cannot wait to tell the girls their discovery)

The Five put their investigations on hold when the Barnies arrive at the farm, as they spend the day helping the Penruthlans clean up the barn and prepare the feast preceding the show. After the show, Dick and Julian get into a bit of mischief when they nab a horse costume and get stuck inside due to a malfunctioning zip.

(Clopper [Clopinant] the hilariously funny (pretend) horse is the highlight of any Barnie show)

Resuming their investigations, the Five visit the tower from which the light was shone, but they get locked up in a cellar and told by the smugglers that they had come at an 'awkward time.' Yan, who had secretly followed the Five, helps them escape through the Secret Way, a path used by the Wreckers of old. They go back to Mrs Penruthlan, in the misbelief that Mr Penruthlan is in league with the smugglers. When the Five and Yan discover that Mr Penruthlan is actually with the police and find out that his consistent "aahs", "ooohs" and "ocks" are because he didn't have his false teeth in, the Five quickly warm up to him.

(After following Yan through the Secret Way, the children realise that the passage ends up in a shed at the farm)

After joining forces with Mr Penruthlan, the Five discover that the 'Guv'nor' of the Barnies actually is the exchanger of the goods the smugglers stole from the wrecked ships. Mr Penruthlan discovers a white package containing smuggled drugs inside Clopper, and in the end, after calling the police, Mr Penruthlan guffaws and hands Clopper over to Julian and Dick, and wishes them luck with it.

Bonus:

(Now what I want to know, is *what* did Dick and Julian do with that horse costume after this book?!)

~~~~~~

Cover art through the ages:

(Disclaimer: This is not an exhaustive list; sometimes the dates are difficult to pinpoint; and I have purposefully not included editions that re-used similar cover art, with differences only in layout and font style.)

(Original cover art by Aldo de Amicis, Hachette, 1963 – dark-haired Julian has a nicely-developed chest 😏, while Dick seems uncharacteristically coy and wary of water 🤨)

(Famous Five and the Big, Huge, Ginormous Beach Ball (at least Timmy gets to enjoy the shade!) – Jeanne Hives, Hachette, 1966)

(Watery fun! Jean Sidobre, Hachette, 1972)

(More watery fun! J.P. Morvan, France Loisirs, 1977)

(Yet more watery fun, because why stop a good thing? Umberto Nonna, Edito Service, 1981)

(Anne and Dick seem awfully tanned back there – remember to put on sunscreen! Jean Sidobre, Hachette, 1984)

(A pretty scenic view courtesy of Paul Gillon, France Loisirs, 1996, based on earlier art from 1992)

(Trapped in the cellar! on top of the tower?? Wtf 😩 – Frédéric Rébéna, Hachette, 2007)

(Okay, I don’t love Auren’s art but I admit that this cover does make me want to go on a trip to the seaside 😎 – Hachette, 2019)

~~~~~~

That's all for today, thanks for reading!

#papillon82 reads #famous five art nostalgia #famous five #le club des cinq #illustrations #aldo de amicis #enid blyton

[putnamcapital]

s1/ep5 notes

i can offer nothing further or nothing coherent about the sublime beauty of the first minutes of s1ep5, or the hug in the classroom

I have read various insights about the lake, but this episode really leans into the light from the lake in a way i hadn’t noticed before. Wille gets ‘caught’ in the light coming off the lake several times - when he finds out from August and the guys there is a crisis re Alexander, then when he and Simon are fighting in the godforsaken music room. When Wille goes full-selfish-what-will-happen-to-my-reputation, it’s all “lake light” revealing his ugly true colours. But then the light off the lake when he’s with simon on their-water-is-cold-walk is the same — and he is in love. so i think the lake is doing something about ‘clarity and honesty of emotion’ - rather than it being specifically positive / negative / about Simon. Also there is a poster of a lake on the wall in frame when w and s talk in classroom at Lucia.

And on this, Sara is an interesting foil - b/c she is often startingly and painfully honest about emotion. the lack of games / artifice / manipulation shows when she gets that message from her father; she just hands the phone to Felice. and then she props herself up against Rousseau - she never does this otherwise, it’s a kind of full-body warm support, you could practically feel is breath or heartbeat through your spine - as she’s informing Felice that her father is nothing like a pillar of strength in her life, but actually the thing that has taken them all down. No surprise he shows up as a surprise on the night simon’s life ends as he knows it.

the tentative tightwalk to friendship between Sara and Felice, Sara i adore you.

further to august’s red and black sweater from s1ep4, it turns out the dress that Felice lends her is red and black. is this a way of ‘transferring’ August to her?

i’ve always adored the moment that sara blinks her eyes open in disbelief at the weekend dinner: “I can’t believe i’m here. is this what it feels like to belong?”

i hadn’t seen that august had actually taken a chocolate from Annette, and that he didn’t eat it, but he fingered it, like it was some temptation he couldn’t have (not unlike, Sara and Simon both touch the photographs of A / W). it seems to subtly underline the eating disorder / self-denial / masochism story line.

Annette’s expression dealing with all these boys spinning their Bambi-eyed sob stories!! the whole time she’s thinking, “ffs i do not get paid enough to watch this, this is worse than daytime TV.”

nils grudgingly approves of Sara as Lucia!

god that shot of Sara against the lockers framed by the window onto the library, witnessing August. An essay in itself. 💜❤️💜❤️💜

#yr s1 rewatch #young royals #this feels almost like cramming for finals

[pers-books]

Octopolis review Hampstead Theatre starring Gemma Redgrave

29th September

By Caroline David

An octopus has a nervous system with tentacles that can make independent decisions, and they can change colour according to their emotions.

So does it follow that cephalopods have a developed consciousness  - a soul?

That’s the scientific and anthropological question at the heart – or three hearts if you’re an octopus - of Marek Horn’s cerebral yet deeply humane drama.

Despite laugh out loud one liners and energetic star performances from Jemma Redgrave and Ewan Miller, Horn’s writing is dense and the play feels longer than its 1 hour 40 minutes.

George, a revered behavioral biologist is horrified when Harry, an ambitious anthropologist, turns up at her home following the recent death of her husband.

Subsumed by grief, her lifeline is her relationship with the wondrous octopus Frances, who lives in a tank in her living room. The stage is dominated by an expanse of glass, back-lit by changing colours alluding to Frances' emotional range.

George and Harry debate ideas and, to their surprise, fall in love. We never see Frances but only glimpse swirls of water. The dialogue is littered with one-liners that up-end as academic riffs, especially when George and Harry editorialize their personal memories in direct addresses as if noting them down in the detached language of academic journals.

Both characters evaluate their emotions – failings and expressions of joy – in relation to their adored octopus friend.

The basis of Horn’s play was the discovery off the coast of Australia of a population of octopuses engaging in complex social interactions; their community subsequently named Octopolis. Perhaps proof that Octopuses aren’t such solitary creatures indicates that solitary George and Harry will evolve and manage to stay together.

Director Ed Madden embraces the oddities and many layers of the script by making a feature of movement and music, which will delight fans of David Bowie. Why not feature the star man’s music given it speaks to outsiders, and if an octopus has a developed form of intelligence - is it an alien mind?

It’s a bit of a stretch, but when George and Harry dance like gawky, euphoric students, it’s undeniably heart-warming.

Octopolis runs at Hampstead Theatre until October 28.

(Why yes, I have left an irritated comment on the site pointing out that half the time they cannot spell Jemma's name correctly INCLUDING in the bloody headline, FFS!)

#Play: Octopolis #Playwright: Marek Horn #Jemma Redgrave #Review #Ham & High

[ravenelyx]

Get to know Kaia, hii

@bugglebees tagged me so here I am. Hellooo

share your wallpaper: lockscreen is a simple black picture with the letters R. A. B. on it bc Regulus makes my heart beat, homescreen is me and my cousin. As for my laptop wallpaper, it's an haikyuu fanart (since 2020, talk about comfort series)

last song you listened to: Motion Sickness by Phoebe Bridgers &lt;3

currently reading: "The Nonexistent Knight" by Italo Calvino (although I'm in a bit of a reader's block atm)

last movie: either Han Solo or Dungeons and Dragons. I can't remember (Sophiaaaaa)

last show: The Marvelous Mrs Maisel bc my professor asked us to :')

craving: ice cream

what are you wearing rn: oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants - talk abt fashion

how tall are you: 164 cm - idk how many feet that is, prob 5'4 or something

piercings: lobes and a left helix, although I would love a conch as well

tattoos: none yet but I want crows on my ribs :)

glasses/conteacts?: I have myopia and glasses but I never wear them bc they give me headaches... as long as I can see it's fine I guess 🙌

last drink: water fr

last thing you ate: pasta

favourite colour: I'm basic af so i'm gonna say black, but I also like denim blue a lot

current obsession: writing ff, weirdly enough. Hogwarts legacy, the MCU, the wizarding world in general

any pets: 2 cats (one of them had babies recently !! my loves) and 4 dogs (different houses)

favourite fictional character: that's like asking me to chose which hair on my head I like the most :') I guess very special mentions are Stiles Stilinski, Harry Potter, the Weasley twins, Wanda Maximoff, Bucky Barnes, Alyssa Foley, Robin Buckley, Max Mayfield, Sasha Blouse, Neji Hyuga, Edmund Pevensie

the last place you traveled: north of Italy (Trieste especially but the whole region in general). I even reached Slovenia at some point and visited Ljubljana, Bled and Nova Goriza

tagging @maleficamenteio and @jennymbear &lt;3 don't hate me pls

#ravenelyx #get to know the writer #txt post #txt #Spotify #raven;rants

[zdraviismisl]

Кейл воодушевляет Ли Джихье

Момент из тринадцатой главы фф "Твой сон был красочным?"

⎡Кейл с Намвуном, который без зазрения совести расталкивал недоумевающих солдат корейского флота на пути, следовали за ними. Когда, Джихье вновь упала на пол, со словами "я не достойна жизни", бывший главнокомандующий, ранее Командующий Войсками Северо-Восточного региона, встал перед ней.

- Не существует тех, кто не достоин жизни, - голос двенадцатилетнего ребенка был холодным, как воды северного моря или родника. - Ваша жизнь может быть похожа на мусор, - картинки далекого прошлого мерцали перед глазами, - но вы должны жить. Вы всегда должны жить. Неважно, что о вас скажу, неважно как, неважно, что для этого нужно сделать, - Кейл понимал состояние Джихье.

(обрезано)

Но мог сказать лишь то, что от него хотели услышать:

- Вставай и борись, нуна. Ведь: жить - самое лучшее. А сейчас от твоих поступков зависит не одна жизнь, - его голос был твёрд. Ни один мускул не дрогнул. Кровавые локоны были яркими в белом тумане. - В иной раз вы можете даже убежать, если слишком трудно, а затем вернуться и нанести удар в спину, - последние слова были сказаны с усмешкой. Это была любимая тактика бывшего Ким Рок Су.⎦

=============================

Cale inspires Lee Jihye

A moment from the thirteenth chapter of ff "Was your dream colorful?"

⎡Cale and Namwoon, who shamelessly pushed the bewildered soldiers of the Korean Navy on the way, followed them. When Jihye fell to the floor again, with the words "I am not worthy of life," the former commander-in-chief, formerly the Commander of the Troops of the Northeast Region, stood in front of her.

"There are no those who are not worthy of life," the voice of a twelve-year-old child was as cold as the waters of the North sea or a spring. "Your life may look like garbage," pictures of the distant past flickered before your eyes, "but you have to live. You must always live. It doesn't matter what I say about you, it doesn't matter how, it doesn't matter what needs to be done for this," Cale understood Jihye's condition.

(cropped)

But he could only say what they wanted to hear from him:

"Get up and fight, Noona. After all: living is the best thing. And now more than one life depends on your actions," his voice was firm. Not a muscle twitched. The bloody curls were bright in the white mist. "Sometimes you can even run away if it's too difficult, and then come back and stab in the back," the last words were said with a grin. This was a favorite tactic of former Kim Rok Soo.⎦

---------------------------------------------

фф: https://ficbook.net/readfic/11925176 (рус)

ff (en): wattpad - https://www.wattpad.com/story/321625122-«was-your-dream-colourful-»

ao3 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/41679672

#orv fanfic #tcf fanfic #tcf x orv #crossover #lcf #orv #tcf #cale henituse #lee jihye #kim namwoon #kim dokja #raon miru

[maiji]

Cultural influences/mashups and shenanigans, and an alternate reading for Hokushin

I have been lit with inspiration to work on North Bound again (thank you @tv-writes-ff​) and today my subconsciousness worked out a several-years-long narrative issue I had that was preventing me from continuing one of the stories and popped it out to my conscious brain. Feeling excited and optimistic! ...depending on time and energy, hahah. 

As I started scripting and going through my old North Bound notes, I found some past musings and observations that really struck me about fanworks and cultural influences in general and Hokushin in particular, so sharing them here!

On cultural influences/mashups and shenanigans in fanworks, and an alternate reading for Hokushin

Something that’s always fascinated me when reading fanfics is the cultural aspects that a writer brings to their interpretation or extension, even without realizing it. For example, when reading English Yu Yu Hakusho fics written by fans from North America, I often encounter Western/North American customs colouring interactions and environments that feel somewhat out of place for an East Asian cast or setting in general, or 90’s Japanese middle school teenagers in particular (or, perhaps, ancient demons from Japan, though who’s to define their cultural norms…). 

I want to be clear: this is not necessarily indicative of how technically well-written the fic itself is. There are degrees of this, and many of the finer ones being things that a reader may or may not notice depending on their cultural familiarity and personal experiences - or even the language they’re thinking/working in. 

I’ve definitely done it myself. Here’s one super simple example: In the Loyal Retainer series modern era stories, there are several instances where I’ve written characters shaking hands in a formal or business-type interaction. It sounds totally natural in English, and you skip over it in less than a second. But it’s a little odd when I reflect on the setting and the scenarios, which is modern day Tokyo. Why are they shaking hands instead of bowing? Not to say people would never shake hands in Japan, but I’ve made arbitrary decisions here and there, both consciously and unconsciously, as to whether characters bow or shake hands, based on whatever I was aware of and felt natural when writing at the time. Rereading now I often question my decisions.

And it’s not just with “North American” experiences. Quite a few decisions I made throughout North Bound and Loyal Retainer, for instance, are influenced by my personal experience with Chinese/Taiwanese culture/history/media. Not necessarily particularly extensive or well-thought out/researched experiences - primarily a lot of osmosis from childhood to shake off. Sometimes I’d manage to catch myself doing this, and then struggle to course correct through what little research I manage to work in during my spare time. I’ve mentioned it a few times throughout my “please don’t take any of this as historically accurate” disclaimers and commentary. One immediate example that comes to mind is the story Quick Thinking, where in the author’s notes of the original post I go on about my struggles with the “market thievery” idea that is the core of that comic. There’s some convoluted mashups and mixed up relationships too, like how in A House That Holds Long Limbs my inspiration for Raizen playing the gambling game Cho-han is thanks to my memories of Suikoden, a Japanese RPG series that is heavily based on Chinese culture - the famous wuxia novel Water Margin.

Anyways, just a really interesting thought! This is primarily a “I’m really fascinated by this” observation about how we colour interpretations and craft things based on our cultural experiences and influences, not to make people go “oh my god I will never get it right in my fanfic” (because believe you me, as I’ve pointed out a few in my own fics above... I’m sure for every one thing I point out, there are numerous others.)

And as promised/on a related note, similarly there’s something funny about Hokushin’s character that I’ve never really focused on. Nor does practically anyone else since he’s not really a character of major focus in the fandom… but interesting food for thought.

Here it is. Hokushin may not actually be a Buddhist monk. 

I mean, he’s obviously not literally a Buddhist monk, but he also may not necessarily be a Buddhist monk in core inspiration. It’s clear that Raizen’s actual story is heavily imbued with very overt Buddhist symbolism and references, and this is the road I elected to go down for North Bound for many reasons, including thematic ones. 

However, the first time we actually get a formal introduction and specific description of Hokushin is during Yomi’s board meeting. While they’re evaluating the opposing kingdoms’ forces, Hokushin’s picture comes up on screen, and Yoda says (in the Taiwanese translation I grew up with) “雷禪的第2號人物是仙術道士北神”. Which is, roughly: “Raizen’s second in command is the Taoist [Daoist] mage Hokushin.”

This is literally one line and it never comes up again, and I didn’t pay much attention to it as a kid, thinking “yeah yeah, whatever maybe some cultural translation convenience” etc. 

But many years later as an adult I came across an English Yu Yu Hakusho TCG card that read “Hokushin, Paranormal Taoist”. In that moment my brain did a doubletake, and I was like “...Oh! I guess that was an accurate translation of the original Japanese??” 

Continuing the cultural mashups theme: Taoism or Daoism is an indigenous belief system of China. Buddhism’s main inroad to East Asia was via China, and spreading further to places such as Korea, Japan, Tibet, Vietnam and so on. In China it encountered Daoism, and so many Buddhist concepts were actually parsed through a Daoist lens and language. The translators of the time resorted to using Daoist terminology to render some Buddhist ideas, and as a result Mahayana Buddhism in general and Zen Buddhism in particular have many close linkages and entwining concepts with Daoism. And it seems “道士” in Japanese could technically also be rendered... Buddhist monk. (Albeit not really as a first choice translation...)

So anyways... if somebody wants to write a Daoist immortal interpretation of Hokushin’s backstory and character, that would be super interesting!

One final thought on cultural interpretations. I was super tickled for multiple reasons earlier this year when Maji Battle released the Matsuri outfit for Hokushin (here it is for reference: https://maiji.tumblr.com/post/692874568188248064/i-completely-forgot-that-a-million-years-ago-i)

One of the reasons is his necklace. In the original manga and anime, the pendant on the necklace is actually quite horizontal in orientation, like this:

As far as I’m aware, it’s primarily a decorative element of his character design; likely a last-minute addition to add some details, and nothing further to extrapolate from it. For the purposes of North Bound, I called it a magatama in Mirror Most Dark, taking advantage of creative license and the fact that some ancient magatama were more roughly shaped and horizontal than very comma shaped, and carrying this interpretation through the rest of the North Bound stories. 

It seems the team/artist on Maji Battle made the same natural stretch, because it’s very clearly been rotated and shape-changed in his official Maji Battle art to become a full-on modern magatama:

I think it’s a very natural assumption or adaptation/evolution to make, because of how prominent magatama are in Japanese culture. At the same time, I was super amused and pleased!

#yu yu hakusho #fandom #buddhism #daoism #hokushin #thinking about culture and cultural influences and cultural mashups #fandom essays #yu yu hakusho 100% maji battle

[borathae]

After reading the new chapter of OGC I can only say one thing is that you, Sibi, are a wizard at writing anal sex. Honestly before you I have never read ff with this kind of sexual practices because many authors define dirty anal sex and so when I found your blog I fell in love.

I have a question: if one day I wanted to try anal sex how do I clean my butt??? This is not to say that I do not clean that part of my body in fact I use intimate cleansers suitable for both the vagina and the butt 💀💀💀💀 what I mean is if I have to insert my finger and if there is something suitable for cleaning the inside. I don't know if I'm making myself understood 😭😭😭😭

Okay first of all, I just have to start this off by saying PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DON'T WASH YOUR VAGINA WITH SOAP/INTIMATE CLEANSERS!! THE VAGINA IS SELF CLEANING AND USING SOAP DOWN THERE WILL SERIOUSLY MESS UP YOUR PH LEVELS AND IN THE LONG TERM MESS HER UP MORE AND MAKE HER STINK AS WELL!! PLEASE I AM BEGGING YOU UNDER TEARS DON'T USE CLEANSERS ON YOUR VAGINA it is perfectly fine to clean it with nothing by water and then just letting it breathe in cotton panties. I am begging you, throw that cleanser away.

Okay now that this is out of the way let's get into douching 101

You have to have taken a shit beforehand so your guts are empty. Also your poop has to be good, solid consistency. If you have diarrhea that day, just wait for another day because douching will only make it worse. Give your guts a lil break.

Also give your guts at least one to two hours of break between taking a shit and cleaning out.

Okay this is the tool, which is the best for beginners & also very comfortable to use. Just look up "anal douche" on your local sextoy website and you should find something you like.

DO NOT CLEAN THE INSIDE OF YOUR ASS WITH SOAP/CLEANSERS EITHER! That will burn and cause nothing but pain. Cleaning your outsides parts with soap is totally fine, but don't put it up your ass.

Use lukewarm water to fill up the douche. TEST THE WATEREMPERATURE ON YOUR INNER ARM as your hands are used to higher temperatures and therefore you will get the water too hot and burn your ass. Trust me.

The water has to be lukewarm. If it is too hot you obviously burn yourself. If it is too cold your muscles can cramp up and that can give you some painful stings in your ass which can be a big moodkiller.

Lube up the tip and the outside of your hole.

Sit down on your toilet and then carefully insert the lubed up tip until it's all in.

Press the lukewarm water out until all of it is up your ass.

Then pull the douche out. Don't worry, the water will not squirt everywhere. Your ass will be able to hold it.

MAKE SURE TO KEEP PRESSING DOWN ON THE DOUCHE or else it will suck up the dirty water again and that is not what we want.

Squeeze out the water into the toilet. The first few times will include a few poop parts /particels. Sometimes it can also have a brownish colour to it (that happens if the poop wasn't exactly liquid but it was still on a the softer side).

Repeat step 4 till 11 until the water coming out your ass is clean and smells clean as well. I would say after a good shit that the cleaning out process is done after three to four times. With a little softer poop I would say around eight to ten times?

Take a quick lower body shower and clean ONLY THE OUTSIDE OF YOUR ASS (not your vagina!!) with a little bit of soap just so you can feel completely clean.

Let your guts rest for around half an hour to an hour because it most definitely will happen that some water/some of the lube which was still hidden somewhere in your guts will leak out a little, so you can still have enough to clean out.

The leaking water/lube should be clean don't worry and it's literally just a few drops, but it's still idk nicer? to know that you truly got all the water out.

I also want to mention that having to fart while letting out the water again or after the cleaning out process is normal as well because the douche will squeeze out some air as well which will get trapped in your lower guts and then escape again. Don't you worry, it's normal and not embarassing and happens to everyone.

So that is my douching 101 tutorial, which should get you cleaned up and ready for clean anal sex where you don't have to worry about poop stains. I hope this could help you anonie, now have fun love and again THROW AWAY YOUR INTIMATE CLEANSER AND STOP CLEANING YOUR VAGINA WITH SOAP! 💜

#asks #anon #sex ed

[jinhyun]

Hiiii, how's your day?

Thank you for water colour series... Tbh it does make me feel all kinds of emotions seeing the Hyunjin x MC interaction... It's quite a roller coaster ride... Just hope Hyun doesn't hurt MC in any way later...

Also, can I make a request? Can you write a Minho ff too later when Watercolor is over? I mean, if you don't have any other project in mind, will it be possible?? It's fine if you don't plan on writing one, just wanted to ask...

- 💖

heyy, my day's been alright tysm 🥰

why am i so soft over you thanking me for the series i'm—🥺 tysm for reading :(

ngl i have a few plots in mind for another series but they're all with hyunjin so far jsñaks but i am open to other members as well depending on who fits certain kinds of plots the best for me, and minho is in the top 3 members i enjoy writing for the most so... idk, we'll see what my inspiration comes with lol

#ask #💖 anon #au: watercolor