Female Trouble (1974) // dir. John Waters
Why did people even bother trying to keep writing dialog after this
Female Trouble (1974) // dir. John Waters
Why did people even bother trying to keep writing dialog after this
My conservative family members seeing me taking up embroidery:
One week later when I post the finished project:
I had to reblog this as soon as I stopped laughing
HOW THE GRINCH STOLE CHRISTMAS (2000) dir. Ron Howard
Pagan holiday’s are fun cus no one can figure out if they should preface their holiday greatings with “happy” “merry” or “blessed”
@greed-the-dorkalicious you’re right and you should say it
So the lovely @wisp-of-a-spook and I were talking the other day about writing a fic about a masquerade ball with the said pairing. I actually proposed her she could write it but said I will also write my own, so here is the first part! And let’s hope my writer’s block is gone forever! :D But you have to forgive me, since I’m not a Native English speaker and I’m rusty as hell, since I haven’t written any fic in AGES. So bear with me.
@wisp-of-a-spook, so here it is! <3 I hope I will get to the next part soon :)
I just find the Captain Hook tag very lacking in the fanfiction department. ;)
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own any of the characters, these are barely my interpretations of them.
FACECLAIMS: Captain Hook looks like the irreplaceable Jason Isaacs in “Peter Pan” 2003 film.
Wendy Darling more less as an adult Rachel Hurd-Wood. Examples: her roles as Sybil Vane in “Dorian Gray” or anything other where she’s adult anyway.
~~~~~~~~
Wendy Darling was quite content with her life. She was top of the class at the university, close to graduating with a master’s degree. It was to nobody’s surprise that she chose to study literature. Wendy was, after all, a storyteller, and a masterful one at that. It seemed but the right choice to study the stories that had entranced her from her very childhood.
Once a week, every Friday, her close friends would meet her at Mrs. And Mr. Darling’s house, gathering around the fireplace, faces filled with amazement and awe, to listen to the wonderful stories Wendy has been so passionately and carefully crafting and then telling.
Fire would lit in her jade green eyes when she spoke, a mischievous smile playing on her still yet girlish lips, golden brown locks thrown away in disarray when she gesticulated.
But Wendy Darling was very much a woman now. She grew up and it wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened, she thought.
Yet despite the obvious success in her field, despite the friends and loving family, Wendy’s life lacked something. It lacked something deep and profound and enticing, the feeling that would make her blood stir in excitement, make the life worthwhile – companionship and adventure.
And it’s been like that since she left Neverland.
Neverland was a place full of wondrous but treacherous magic that Wendy and her brothers used to frequently visit as children – in their dreams, at first. But soon the veil between dreams and reality became so thin it could rip at any moment – and so it did. Wendy, John and Michael soon met Peter Pan, who tought them to fly and it was him who took them to Neverland – this time for real.
Peter was her first love. She gave him her hidden kiss – oh, to be so vulnerable again –
They lived through all kinds of adventures, met the lost boys and sirens and Indians and pirates and –
Him.
For the past few nights Wendy has been having the same dream on repeat. Surely she must have been missing Neverland. But it was not Peter hauting her dreams. Those weren’t his boyish green eyes and his ‘cockadoodledoo!’ she could hear. Her feelings for him were gone, she was not a girl anymore –
Wendy was dreaming of eyes so blue, those unmistakable eyes, blue as forget-me-nots, of profound melancholy1, and all around her, as if an echo in a well, she could hear his voice:
‘Wendy… Darling…’
Wendy woke up with a loud gasp, eyes shooting wide open. She fell asleep on her desk again, face against the hardcover of her textbook. Grimacing and rubbing her face, she got up and stretched her neck. She put on her favourite lavender robe and went down the stairs to the kitchen to make herself some tea.
The clock in the living room struck midnight and then stopped ticking.2 At first Wendy didn’t notice, busy making her tea, but then it caught her attention.
‘How odd…’
She went to the living room and frowned at the clock in puzzlement, but then heard a firm knock on the door.
It was very weird for anyone to come at this time , Wendy certainly wasn’t expecting anyone and she was home alone. But Wendy Moira Angela Darling wasn’t raised a coward.
She went to the door and hesitated a bit before opening it. There was nobody and nothing outside.
‘Hello?’
She looked around, irked. Probably some prankster was thinking himself funny with these type of jokes.
But to her surpise there actually was something. A thin, rectangular object, slowly falling down in a feather-like manner and finally landing on her doormat in front of her.
Wendy stared at the object, confused, then picked it up.
It was an envelope, of dark crimson colour, sealed with golden wax. Adressed to ‘Miss Wendy Darling’. And glistening with… was this possible? Was that fairy dust?..
Wendy’s gasp was barely audible when she was staring at the envelope with wonder, but then the chill October air reminded her she wasn’t suitably dressed, so she went back inside.
Still bewildered, she sat at the kitchen table and took a deep breath before cracking the wax open with slightly shaking hands.
Inside there was an invitation card, written in beautiful cursive:
Samhain Masquerade Ball
You are cordially invited to the great Samhain Masquerade Ball, hosted by the ever so generous Captain James Hook. Second star to the right and straight on till morning. We will be honoured by your presence. Wear your best.
Apart from the invitation card there was also a folded piece of parchment. Wendy took it out of the envelope and smelled tobacco, vanilla and spices. It wasn’t a strong smell, it slightly lingered on the parchment, barely a memory of a much stronger essence, but it was enough to make her head spin. Wendy already knew who this was from.
She unfolded the parchment.
‘There’s still a room for a storyteller.’
Even his handwriting felt familiar. And she knew she will accept the invitation.
Wendy felt something light drop onto the floor. She bent down to check what it was. When she got up, her mouth was curling up slightly, eyes filled with nostalgia and pressed forget-me-nots in her hand.
1Just as J.M. Barrie described Captain Hook’s eyes.
2Midnight is the hour of ghosts. In the Gothic fiction it’s the hour where peculiar and fantastical things are more likely to happen. :)
- Lord Henry Wotton, The Picture of Dorian Gray (Oscar Wilde)
I will never not reblog this
Accurate.
This is the best post I’ve ever seen
accurate
Guys, OP here. Please stop deleting my captions. How are the rest supposed to know that the receptionist is Satan
do you ever just look at your own blog and think…. damn i’m a thirsty bitch
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Wendy Darling, Captain James Hook or Smee, I merely write my own interpretations of their characters. I also don’t own the song “Jolly Sailor Bold”.
FACECLAIMS: Captain James Hook - Jason Isaacs as Hook in “Peter Pan” 2003
Wendy Darling - Rachel Hurd-Wood (examples: her role in “Dorian Gray” and in general her looks as an adult person)
Smee - Richard Briers as Smee in “Peter Pan” 2003
You can find the first chapter of my fic here!
*********
Throughout his existence in Neverland James Hook had rarely dreamed. If ever, then those were the nightmares of that blasted, insolent boy Peter Pan, the crocodile that ate his hand and would gladly feast on the rest of his flesh, or simply flashes of images, like scattered glass, that made no sense to him. But the last couple of nights were different.
He has been having the same dream on repeat.
James saw a person standing in front of a full lenght mirror, at first the image was blurred, but soon enough he could see clearly. A girl in her nightdress, brushing her long, wavy, honey brown hair. She was standing with her back to him so James couldn’t see her face directly, but it was reflecting in the mirror. He saw jade green eyes, their gaze level but undoubtedly fierce and inquisitive, now slightly softened by sleepiness as she was preparing for bed.
He recognised that face and those eyes. How could he not?
Wendy Darling.
But no, no longer a girl, those eyes were the eyes of a young scholar, he thought in his dream –
A woman.
Out of nowhere, as if he were deaf before, he heard a female voice singing, gradually surrounding him, as an echo in a well. He realized Wendy was singing.
Softly, mindlessly Wendy was singing.
My heart is pierced by Cupid I disdain all glittering gold There is nothing can console me But my jolly sailor bold…1
******
Suddenly the soft voice was replaced with shouting and swearing of his crew and his bosun was babbling nervously at him. A groan escaped Hook’s throat as he was waking up, still face down on his desk.
‘Capt’n? Capt’n? I was tellin’ ‘em dogs to get back to work but ‘ey wouldn’ listen – ‘
‘I was dreaming, Smee.’
Smee’s eyebrows went up. ‘Of Pan, capt’n?’
With a heavy sigh Hook finally rose from the desk and gave his bosun an unreadable look, then walked to the window of his cabin to stare outside and there was such longing painted on his face, even Smee hasn’t seen him like this in a long while, and he knew Captain Hook for, well, forever.
‘No, Smee. Of Wendy Darling.’2
Smee’s brows went even further up, but then he smiled fondly, remembering The Storyteller. ‘That Wendy lass, eh? Awful good at tellin’ stories. Must have grown quite lot since – ‘
‘Yes.’
Smee knew well enough when not to provoke the captain, so he said no more. He just stood there a bit awkwardly, awaiting for the orders.
James Hook stood at the window, arms folded behind his back, but he wasn’t looking at anything in particular. His mind was filled with questions. What about those reoccuring dreams? Why Wendy Darling? Surely, when he met her she was a bright and daring child, but back then he used her just as a bait for Pan, nothing more. He didn’t like children anyway, not to mention he tried to kill Pan, of whom she was fond of (‘tis just a timble’, she said to Hook, before giving Pan her hidden kiss), her and her brothers, and about that he was sure, she never forgot. And wasn’t Wendy a part of his own demise, when he disappeared in the belly of the crocodile? (‘Old, alone, done for!’, oh, you cruel, cruel child). He managed to claw his way out of that damned beast with his hook, because in the cursed place called Neverland he couldn’t even rest. He couldn’t even die.
Maybe the fact he was still alive and those dreams meant something.
Maybe there was a chance for him.
Hook scolded himself in his mind for such thoughts. Years of loneliness, bitterness and dissapointment have taken their toll and he felt a wave anger taking over him, red flash reaching his eyes.
‘Capt’n?’
The wave was over as soon as it began. He had to make a plan. He had to –
Wendy…
With a sigh Hook turned around to Smee.
‘What are you standing here for, you old fool?’, he waved his left hand in a dismissive manner.
‘The orders, Capt’n – ‘
‘I will be on the deck shortly, that bunch of scoundrels – just help me with this bloody thing, Smee.’
‘Aye aye, capt’n.’
Smee helped James put on and fasten the leather harness that kept the hook in place. When James attached the hook with a loud „click”, he felt the same click in his head. The plan was beginning to form.
Bosun helped him comb his curls and then dress into trousers, shirt and his favourite red brocade frock coat.
Smee was ready to leave Hook’s quarters but was stopped by his voice.
‘Smee?’
‘Yes, capt’n?’
‘I think I have a plan, concerning our dear Wendy Darling. And I think it’s time we put that Neverhell’s magic to work. To our advantage. I need three seamstresses, the best ones you can find me. They are to be paid well and equipped with everything they need. We will need fairy dust as well… in vast amounts. A boat that will fit three people at least.’
‘Don’t think I follow, capt’n.’
‘We’ll have a masquerade ball in the Black Castle, Smee. But for that, I need you and at least another one to transport Wendy safely here.’
Smee didn’t understand. But he was a bosun, and Hook was the captain, and Smee was proud that captain trusted him with such an important task. He puffed out his chest proudly.
‘Aye aye capt’n!’
Hook gave Smee a nod that meant he could leave.
His plan was time consuming and it required a lot of scheming, people and magic. But it had a chance of success. He was, after all, Captain James Hook of The Jolly Roger.
‘And Smee?’, Hook turned around, the corners of his lips curling up slightly.
‘Aye?’
‘I will deliver her her invitation myself.’
1A piece of lyrics from „Jolly Sailor Bold”. I don’t own the song.
2So here I’m using that scene from Peter Pan 2003 where Captain Hook is first introduced to build my own scene. Paraphrasing it, if you will, or paying it a hommage. :)
@wisp-of-a-spook @bela-leerox @peritwotone @trierarchuncus-prairiensis @rosesandglitter @sephirayne I hope you will enjoy this chapter :)
Eva Green as Artemisia ( 300: Rise of an Empire)