Kinky drider prompt. Either suspension bondage. Or Shibari. Or both *hands in the air*
Aaaand here it is! (Finally!! /avoids thrown paper balls)
This is a sequel to this piece although you don't need to have read the first to understand this one.
Tags: NSFW, shibari (it's v soft I promise), vaginal fingering and vaginal sex, and a bit of subspace experience
I hope the wait was worth it, happy reading!
“Darling,” Callum calls from your shared room, his voice timid. It’s very unlike the voice he uses to command his court, or speak to his generals. It's a voice he uses only around you, when he knows it's safe.
You poke your head into the room and see him sitting in front of the fire. It's been getting colder the past few weeks, not quite cold enough to snow, but the staff have been bringing down the heavier garments in preparation. It's been the perfect excuse to stay in bed for a few more kisses, a quiet moment alone before his attentions are drawn elsewhere.
Callum gestures you over with two hands, and you step into the room and sit across from him on the ornate rug. His hands are all folded in front of him, and he's staring into the fire.
"Is everything alright?" you ask, concerned. He seems anxious, fidgeting with his hands.
He takes a deep inhale and takes your hands in his, pressing them between his four palms. "It's concerning the bedroom. I'd like to try…something new."
Oh, that's all? You'd thought something was wrong. You quirk an amused eyebrow. "You're bored already?"
He shakes his head like a dog. "N-no! You're wonderful! This has been the most--"
You laugh, cutting him off. "My love, I'm joking. Tell me what you want."
His face glows in embarrassment, a dull blue shining through the low light of the room. "I want to…tie you up."
It takes you a moment to parse his meaning, then you drop your fist into your palm. "Oh!"
You've heard of this before! The Oni across the ocean make gorgeous configurations! You'd stolen a book of them from the library and flipped through it under torchlight. Layers upon layers of rope, criss-crossed and interwoven, hours and hours of work to make living art. You'd asked for the book out of idle curiosity, but the more you flipped the more involved you'd become. It's been a few weeks since you'd found the book in the library, but it hasn't left your mind since.
"That sounds great!" you shout, grabbing Callum by the shoulders. A touch over-enthusiastic, but it would be a lie to say you hadn't thought about the same.
His responding smile is shy, but bright. "It's done with my silk so it's very soft, but if you don't want to I--"
You kiss him on either cheek, energy leaking out of you like steam. "Yes! I said yes! What did you have in mind?"
Leading you by the hands out of the bedroom, he brings you down the hall and to a room that neither of you frequent, and you had honestly forgotten the purpose of until Callum begins to explain.
"I mortified myself by asking for assistance setting this up. I'm surprised none of the staff let it slip to you. It's got everything we could need in here, plus more."
You smirk at your husband. "What would you have done if I refused?"
He laughs. "Never opened this door again," and then looks down at your hands, his thumbs rubbing your palms. "But I had faith in you."
The door swings open silently and he ushers you inside, two hands firm on your back as you take in the room. Everything, from the bed, to the wallpaper, to the decor are done in a deep red and gold. There's accents of silver along the wall, but your eyes are drawn to the giant four-poster bed against the far wall. It's as large as the one in your bedroom, but that one is almost delicate compared to the solid oak frame in front of you.
"Is this okay?" he asks.
"It's wonderful," you breathe out, awed.
The pressure on your back steers you to the bed. "Undress, please, and kneel on the bed."
Your mouth goes dry at his stern, direct tone. He reserves this voice for you, and you only. "You haven't told me what you had in mind."
"First I'd like you to kneel on the bed. Then I will show you."
The air of the room is cool without a fireplace, but you hope you'll be warmed soon as you climb onto the bed. It's higher than a human bed to accommodate the height of a drider, bigger as well, but you've come to enjoy the size. The duvet is cotton, a deep red shot through with gold like the rest of the room, soft from laundering.
You sit on the center of the bed, your legs tucked beneath you, and you watch as Callum makes a slow arc from one side to the other, like a predator, or a butcher appraising meat. He reaches underneath the bed and sets next to you a box, one you could easily fit an armful of books in.
"Do you know what to say to make me stop?"
You have no fucking clue. This is new territory, it's never gotten so intense that you felt the need. Callum has always made it apparent that you could pull away whenever you wish, so you've never had a specific word for it. "Uh, s-stop?"
His mandibles lift, an expression of approval. "You are a queen, say it like you mean it."
You sit up straight and pretend you're back in the court, projecting your voice. "Stop."
It feels a bit silly saying it to empty air, but Callum leans forward, pecks your lips and says, "Good girl." And you want to do it again.
He picks up a book--you realize it's the same book you'd checked out from the library, opened to one of the pages you'd absentmindedly dogeared. The figure has their hands together, held behind their head. The ropes are knotted like diamonds on the front and back, and the figure has their chest pushed out.
"If your hands go numb or start to hurt at all, you're going to tell me, understood?"
You nod absently, still staring at the book. "Okay."
"Hey," he steers your face away, firmly squeezing your cheeks between calloused fingers. "Did you hear me?"
"I did," your eyes flick down to his lips. "Sir."
"Good girl," he says with a sharp smile, and you shiver pleasantly.
Callum pulls another box out from underneath the bed, this one full of twisted rope lengths, the dark blue of his silk appearing black in the low light. He'd prepared this, spun the rope thinking of tying you up, spent time out of his day to come in here and make plans. The thought makes you rub your thighs together, a motion not unnoticed by Callum. He lays a length across your shoulders, the ends falling over your breasts and gently caressing your nipples. It's a small movement, but you suck in a breath all the same.
One of his hands not working through the rope rests lightly on your thigh. "Get comfortable, spread your knees," and he says it casually, like a suggestion, but you know it's not.
Callum isn't mean or forceful in the bedroom, but his commands come through firm, with clear intent behind them. If you didn't listen, there were consequences.
The first time you'd tested his patience, had been disobedient, he'd kept you on the edge of orgasm for three hours straight, while he got to come over you all night. Only once you'd been reduced to a sobbing, incoherent mess had he let you come on his fingers alone, and you were so wound up that the scream it tore from you nearly made you hoarse. The bath he'd drawn for you afterwards and the fingers he'd combed through your hair had been heavenly, he always took care of you, but you were not up to par to do that again. You'd be good for him.
Besides, you enjoy the approval. His smiles could be soft or sharp, and you like the idea of pleasing him as much as you can.
Callum sits on the bed behind you, his lower legs stretching out next to yours, warmth practically radiating from his body. The chill starts to disappear as his hands smooth over your skin, over your hips, down the tops of your thighs and back up to cup your breasts. His hands are warm, it feels good exploring your body, the drag of his blunt nails over your skin makes your clit tingle.
Bringing the rope up, Callum starts on your wrists, a knot where your hands meet that wraps around a few times. With another hand, he wiggles a digit between your skin and the ropes before knotting it, and you realize he's testing the tightness.
He pulls your hands up, over your head, and says softly, "When I'm done with this, I will see how you feel, and then I'd like to tie your legs." He pulls a little harder, bringing your shoulders up to your ears, anchoring the ties on your hands to the rope around your chest. Brushing your hair aside with his long fingers makes another shiver work up your spine as he starts to wrap the pattern over your chest.
He leans around you, face nuzzling the outside of your arm, a hand pushing his face into you, and he says softly, "And then I want to fuck you, my good girl."
You shudder, his voice dripping heat down to your pussy, and you pull at the restraints wanting to relieve the tension. It pulls at Callum's hands, and he pauses.
"Are you alright?"
You nod. "I'm fine."
Concern laces his words, "We can stop if--"
"N-no!" You flush, trying to turn to him and failing.
Callum peeks around your arm, noticing the heat in your face, and the hand on your thigh slides up.
"I see," he says.
And as if he's reading your mind, one of Callum's hand traces over your hip, inwards over your thigh, and finally cups your sex with his long fingers. It's not quite dripping yet, but your lips still part easily under his touch as he draws a finger up the center all the way to your clit. You shiver at the touch, a small moan escaping your lips.
"I'm glad you're enjoying this," Callum says, voice low as he rubs his finger slowly, and his other hands continuing to wrap the rope over your chest and across your back.
Even at the slow pace, you're at Callum's complete mercy and the tightness of the ropes. His hand on you doesn't speed up, doesn't apply more pressure, only circles your clit at that same maddening pace, keeping you just on the edge, turning you into a panting mess in an embarrassingly short amount of time. Your pussy feels empty, you cant your hips with each downward movement of his fingers, hoping he gets the hint.
His directions, like the silk in his hands, are smooth but firm. "Spine straight," he says, tracing a finger from the base of your spine to your neck.
"Deep breath," as he tightens the rope under your breasts.
He pulls the rope around your chest and threads it through your hands again. Your breathing picks up as you test the strength, and it locks your arms into place.
The hand over your clit reaches lower and Callum gently presses two fingers into you. It's not quite the size you want, but the relief that comes with it has you moaning.
"Tell me, love," Callum says behind you as he secures a knot, as if he isn't knuckle-deep inside you. "What led you to this book?"
You've been caught, but the image of Callum finding that book, knowing you'd seen it only makes you wetter. "I, uh…" You shift on the covers. "Just curious."
"Curious," he repeats around a particularly wet sound from your pussy. "Sneaking around, bookmarking pages." He brushes your G-spot and you shudder. "Did you think about me? Did you touch yourself to it?"
"...No."
"Liar." He yanks on a loose end, hard enough to thrust your chest forward and bring more color to your cheeks.
His hand stops over your pussy as he concentrates on the last few knots, and you don't know how much time has passed, but it's too much. The warmth of his hand is nice, but it's not enough anymore. You're oversensitive, he's been going slow on purpose. You need his cock, you need him to fuck you.
"Alright," he says. "I'm done with your arms."
You squirm on the bed. "Would you, uh, leave my legs for tonight?"
As he rounds the corner of the bed, Callum looks to you, attentive. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, it's just…" You look down, unable to finish the sentence, and Callum flashes you a boyish grin.
"Go on, tell me."
Every time you try to move your arms, it pulls the connections over your chest, tightens the loops over your wrists and shoulders. You're on display like this, completely vulberable. You truly could go limp and everything would stay in place, and it's a relaxing thought. Callum has you, you're stable.
Your voice comes out shaky, "I want…I want you to fuck me."
That never gets easier, no matter how many times you've done it. Usually you'd be embarrassed, and you feel the beginnings of it, but it's not nearly as present as the need to be filled.
And Callum always obliges you.
The rope around you is soft, but it bites into your skin. It reminds you of the way Callum will bite your shoulder or your neck as he's deep inside you. These ropes are going to leave a mark, one that the court might see, that might be bared to the public. Bearing these marks for others to see how Callum owns you is a heady thought, and your exhales are unsteady, but you also feel light, floaty, as they set in.
There's been a few parties where you've had more than a few glasses of wine, and it's a similar feeling, this weightlessness. And your arousal is persistent, you want Callum to touch you again, it felt so good.
You're staring at a spot on the floor when Callum gently grabs your jaw and guides your head upwards. Your head weighs a million pounds, but he's holding you, and that's nice. He's so pretty when he's serious, intensely studying your face. All four of his eyes are narrowed in suspicion, there's a light blue blush over his high cheekbones, and his dark hair has started to mat to his forhead with sweat. Was this an effort for him too?
But he looks almost upset, so you smile at him.
"I'm okay," you say, and you are. You mean it. "This is nice. I'm very relaxed."
Callum's face relaxes, the crease in his brow disappears, and he smiles back at you, that crooked, boyish smirk that melts your heart, and he kisses your lips. You open easily to him, his split tongue sliding over yours, lazily exploring your mouth. The rope stops you from reaching out to him, but his hands wrap over your hips, across your back. They run over the rope, tracing the lines, testing the tightness. He pulls back, pecking your lips one last time.
"And you want me to fuck you?"
You lean forward, chasing another kiss, a smile pulling at your lips. "Yes, please."
He pats the outside of your thigh, that boyish smile coming back. He's strong, picking you up easily so your legs can fall open from underneath you. With his other hands he grabs underneath your thighs, pulling them around his waist. Your ankles cross over his thorax, soft and bare, and you feel against your thigh the prodding of his cock, still buried behind his slit but eager to break free.
You lazily wiggle your hips over Callum's and he moans, the arms keeping you upright squeezing you into his torso.
Callum grabs you by the hips, positioning his cock against your entrance. His hard girth greets you, warm and wet with the lubricant his body produces. As the tip slips inside, you gasp against his shoulder, the intrusion always shocking you with the sudden size. There's only the slightest taper to his cock, with a slant at the tip and a curve upwards. Your first time together had been an experience in readying yourself for it, but after nearly every night together, you've gotten used to it. Loved it.
You're allowed a breath's length of time before he slams you down, up to the two large bumps at the base where he says his seed is stored. The sudden heat and force pushes the breath from your lungs, sends fire up your spine, but he doesn't give you time to adjust before he lifts you up almost all the way out and slams you down again.
His cock is huge, you feel every inch as it fills you up, and he starts a punishing rhythm that keeps him deep. The bumps along the top of his cock caress your insides and you moan against his neck, not caring if anyone outside can hear.
"You look absolutely stunning," he says, breaths punctuated by each thrust and the smack of your skin against his. "I want to tie you up again, keep you there for hours. To watch you beg for me while you can't get away."
You can't respond, too caught up in the feel of his cock ramming into you, wet and obscene, the lubrication of his cock making the glide feel delicious. Like he can't get enough of you.
You pull at the ropes again, forgetting that you're tied up, and another wash of calm floods your senses. That lightheadedness is coming back, that floaty feeling. You're coasting on sensation, surrounded by Callum, his scent, and so many feelings. He's got you, he always has you, and he always will.
Callum grunts as he thrusts into you, the sound right in your ear, and each downstroke feels so good you may come just from this. His cock hits a spot on the next thrust that has you moaning, open mouthed against his skin.
"I want you like this all the time," Callum breathes, his voice wrecked. Sweat is beading on his skin, his hair is curling from the heat. "I want to try everything with you, you're so beautiful."
He mumbles more into the skin of your arm, but you can't make it out. The pace of his thrusts picks up, become erratic.
"Are you close?" he asks. "You're going to milk me dry like this."
You can only moan an affirmative, his voice working to push you over the edge. Your thighs clench, you pull against the ropes and seize up, overcome with pleasure as you come. The world goes black as you squeeze your eyes shut, your heart beating erratically.
Callum thrusts into you once, twice, his hips stuttering as he releases a long moan. The length of his cock shudders and you feel the wet warmth of his seed as it fills you. It pumps again anf Callum shudders, mimicked by you when you feel it start to leak out of you and drip down the curve of your bum.
You feel incredible, like you could run up a mountain, or take a three year nap. You feel Callum's heart against your own, both beating frantically.
Once Callum gathers his wits about him, he's petting your hair, grabbing your hands where he can. "How are you feeling, love?"
You feel stable, back to the ground, and nod. "That was fantastic. But," you say, wiggling your fingers. "I'm starting to go numb."
"Oh shit," Callum says, immediately but gently pulling out of you and setting you on the bed, rushing to a drawer on the bedside table. You laugh when he very seriously brandishes a pair of scissors and starts towards you.
"No!" You say, scooting away. "I like this rope, don't cut it!"
He pulls you in by the elbow and starts snipping anyway. Pouting, you remain still in the face of those sharp scissors.
"Believe me, it is nothing to make more," he reassures you, running his thumb over your pushed out bottom lip.
The first bit he cuts is the ties keeping your arms back, but he grabs your wrists before you can wrench them forward.
"Easy," he says, his voice stern. "Easy."
Slowly, he guides your hands down in front of you, and you're glad for it. You'd been ignoring a lot of pain in your shoulders, not through any error on Callum's part, but the intensity of the position itself. It's a good sore though, one you'd like to experience again.
"Everything alright?" he asks. You nod.
Callum quickly cuts the rest away, the rope falling to the blanket beneath you, and you feel his fingers skating lightly over your skin.
He's running over the marks, the indented red lines, the texture of the rope superimposed into you. Looking at your arm and chest, you see them too. They're amazing, little bits of evidence to show what you've done.
"Stunning," Callum says, fingers skating over your arms, so light you can barely feel it, like he doesn't want to hurt you.
You're running your hand over the marks when a chill runs up your spine, the cold of the room setting in and making goosebumps break out over your skin. Callum presses a kiss to your freezing shoulder, and you feel the smile on his lips.
"Let's get you warmed up."
As he silently carries you to the washroom, his warmth presses into your side and where his arms wrap around your body. The massive bath he lowers you into is searing, perfect to gather the last fragmented pieces of your mind, to focus on the hands he runs through your hair and his firm body cradling you.
Callum continues massaging your scalp, his other arms still running over the indented marks that are filling out, but remaining red on your skin. You heave a heavy sigh, content, ready to fall asleep in his arms, and you're definitely doing this again tomorrow.
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Famous Five Art Nostalgia #LC04
Introductory post
Introduction to ‘Les Cinq’
Les Cinq au cap des Tempêtes – The Famous Five and the Missing Cheetah
Original publication date: 1972 (France), 1981 (UK)
(Original cover by Jean Sidobre, 1972)
In this volume titled Les Cinq au cap des Tempêtes (lit. Five at Demon’s Rocks), the Five visit their old friend Tinker, who first made an appearance in Blyton’s #19 Five Go to Demon’s Rocks and came back in #21 Five Are Together Again.
As exciting as it is to revisit the extraordinary location that was the setting to the Five’s 19th adventure, don’t get your hopes up too much as the children will only make a brief visit there. It should also be noted that the lore surrounding the lighthouse has been slightly changed: in this story, the Haylings live in a large house in a village a few kilometers away from Kirrin Cottage, and the lighthouse is located off the coast of the same village. The lighthouse is not said to belong to the Hayling family; it is abandoned and in disrepair and has merely been “commandeered” by Tinker, who does not hold any owning rights. By contrast, in Blyton’s original lore, the lighthouse was stated as belonging to the Haylings, and it also seemed further away from Kirrin village as the Five had quite a long drive to reach it.
Now, let’s see what’s in store for our young detectives!
~~~~~~
Plot summary:
(Disclaimer: All provided translations are my own.)
The Five go to Demon’s Rocks to stay with Professor Hayling and his son, their friend Tinker. Along with Tinker’s monkey Mischief, the Five discover that another, rather unusual, pet has joined the Haylings’ household: a tamed cheetah named Attila, which was gifted to Professor Hayling by one of his friends.
(Meeting Attila)
[TRANSLATION: Anne: Aaahhh ! Tinker: Don't be afraid, this is Attila, our pet cheetah. He's as gentle as a lamb. He was given to us by a friend of Dad's, an explorer.]
During their first night there, George is awakened by some noise and sees two shadowy silhouettes moving in the garden... The next morning, Attila has disappeared! The Five search the grounds with no results. Soon, Professor Hayling receives a ransom note that was left in the mailbox: Attila’s kidnappers cheetahnappers are demanding the formula for a groundbreaking, low-cost fuel newly-developed by the scientist. After weighing the pros and cons, Professor Hayling decides not to agree to the ransom.
(Discussing the request for ransom)
[TRANSLATION: Julian: I understand, Professor Hayling, that Attila pales in comparison to such a discovery. Tinker: You can’t possibly give up your formula, Dad. Dick: By the way, have you sent your formula to the Ministry? Professor Hayling: No, not yet. Those bandits are well-informed. Tinker: Why don't you call the police? Professor Hayling: We’re short on time. I won't be at ease until my formula is at the Ministry. Going to the police would mean several hours wasted.]
Per the cheetahnappers' instructions, the Haylings’ housemaid, Jenny, is tasked with bringing the professor’s answer inside a wicker basket to a certain location in the woods. The children keep watch in the area, hoping to follow the bandits, but to their surprise a dog comes to fetch the wicker basket instead! The children follow the dog (a cocker spaniel) to a nearby beach but they are too late as the animal seems to have been picked up by the bandits who have then taken off in a boat.
(Investigating on the beach)
[TRANSLATION: Narrator: Anne makes a discovery at the water's edge. Anne: Footprints! George: And dog paw prints. Dick: All these tracks are heading towards the sea and stop at the water's edge. Julian: Blow!* George: So the bandits left in a boat with the cocker spaniel.]
[*Side note: I am ridiculously happy for this opportunity to use the outdated interjection “blow!” in one of my personal translations. I always find it very difficult to use old-timey language accurately, so this was a boon. 😁]
The next day, a letter arrives for Tinker, telling him to steal the formula from his father in exchange for Attila. Tinker is given four days to accomplish this task and the drop-off is arranged the same way as before. The children spend the next few days scouting the area in hope that Timmy will smell Attila’s trail, but to no avail. They also visit a nearby zoo, reasoning that not everyone is able to handle a cheetah and the culprit may work there, but they don’t accomplish anything other than Mischief living up to his name and making mischief with the resident monkeys.
George devises a plan for them to follow the cheetahnappers' boat after dropping off Tinker’s reply, taking advantage of a local boating festival, but the plan fails when the bandits don’t take the itinerary that the children expected them to.
(The Five get to have fun at the festival, while poor Tinker is on watch duty at the drop-off point – bad luck for Tinker!)
[TRANSLATION: Narrator: The Five enjoy the festival until the agreed time. Narrator (second panel): After a short meal, they get down to business and take up their observation post.]
Tinker receives a new three-day ultimatum and the children decide to capture the bandits' mail dog.
(Making plans to capture the bandits’ dog)
[TRANSLATION: George: It's you, Timmy, who'll catch Filibuster*. Dick: And to be on the safe side, we'll take a fishing net with us. Narrator: A moment later, Tinker writes a note to the bandits...]
[*Note: The children do not know the dog's name and decide to call him Flibustier (lit. Filibuster).]
(An adorable captive)
[TRANSLATION: Anne: Poor Filibuster! You don't look so scary. George (to both doggies): There! Here we go! You two make up.]
Realising that they can’t bring their dognapped hostage to Professor Hayling’s house, it occurs to Tinker that they can hide the dog in 'his' lighthouse.
When they arrive at the lighthouse, they are astonished to find Attila locked up in there, as the bandits chose this seemingly abandoned location to keep their captive away from prying eyes!
The bandits arrive at the lighthouse just as the children are discussing the situation and they only have time to hide. After some difficulties, they manage to evade the bandits and to escape by locking them up in the lighthouse. Meanwhile, a storm has risen, giving the children a few scares on the way back to the mainland.
(The children are stuck in the lighthouse while the bandits are in the next room, and Tinker has an idea: he shows Mischief how to close and lock a door so that Mischief will do the same and thus lock up the bandits discreetly… Monkey see, monkey do!)
[TRANSLATION: Narrator: The Five are desperate to find a solution when, suddenly, Tinker... Julian: Are you nuts? Tinker: Your turn, Mischief! Do as I do!]
(This picture mainly for the view of the lighthouse in the storm)
[TRANSLATION: Narrator: Outside, the storm is raging. Narrator (second panel): Mischief pushes against the door with all his might but... Anne: He'll never be able to do it.]
The police arrest the bandits, who were also wanted for other offenses in addition to cheetahnapping. The children go back to professor Hayling’s to celebrate their victory, and Tinker decides to adopt the cocker spaniel.
(Let’s celebrate!)
[TRANSLATION: Narrator: After the storm has calmed, the children take their boat and head back to Professor Hayling's house. Jenny: Is that Attila? Where did you find him? Tell me all about it! Tinker: Not until we’ve had a good meal!]
~~~~~~
Fun lines:
There’s an adorable moment in the lighthouse when Dick is holding the cocker spaniel in his arms while the children are hiding from the bandits:
« La petite troupe monta ainsi plusieurs marches. Mick avait pris Flibustier dans ses bras et lui parlait d’une voix rassurante en faisant mentalement des vœux pour que le cocker ne se mette pas à aboyer. Mais le chien, qui était d’un naturel placide, était trop heureux d’être caressé pour se soucier de donner de la voix. Il ferma les yeux et se laissa bercer comme un bébé. […] Entendant ses maîtres parler, Flibustier, alias Tommy, écarquilla un œil et agita une oreille. Mais Mick le serra doucement contre lui et Claude lui fourra un morceau de sucre dans la gueule. Béat, le chien resta tranquille. »
Translation:
“The little group climbed several steps. Dick had taken Filibuster in his arms and was talking to him in a reassuring voice, hoping that the cocker spaniel wouldn't start barking. But the dog, who was naturally placid, was only too happy to be cuddled to even think about making racket. The dog closed his eyes and let himself be rocked like a baby. […] Filibuster, a.k.a. Tommy, widened one eye and wiggled one ear upon hearing his owners’ voices. But Dick gave him a gentle squeeze and George stuffed a lump of sugar in his mouth. The dog was content and remained quiet.”
Cuuuuuuuute! 😍 I mean, Dick and the doggy are cute; George is… rather brusque!
[Note: Tommy is the dog's original name used by the bandits.]
~~~~~~
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.)
(Cover art by Jean Sidobre, Hachette, 1984 – minor layout changes compared to the original 1972 cover art)
(Paul Gillon, Hachette, 1992 – the Five with their extended menagerie!)
(Quite a peaceful scene depicted by Frédéric Rébéna, Hachette, 2011 – the red-and-white paint scheme makes for a striking visual, although it is not necessarily what I have in mind when I think about an abandoned lightouse in disrepair…)
(Auren, Hachette, 2021 – facing the storm) [Note: You have to wonder where Tinker is, on all the modern covers…]
~~~~~~
Thanks for reading!
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