#went too far with the nursery rhymes

[naoa-ao3]

Rhymes and Reasons

It's a hot night for sleeping. Too bloody hot and John Constantine turns over in the damp sheets of his bed, the air around him putrid and suffocating with the promise of more rain.

It's the hottest part of June and he can't sleep a wink.

He's three months out of Ravenscar which is a pretty good shore leave for him, three months without getting carted back or in any kind of trouble.

He can feel it's coming to an end though, the edges of his mind starting to fray from all the wear again and he tosses and turns, trying to sleep, knowing he's going to fuck it all up, just like all the other times.

He's coming apart again, just like he does every few months, every time after they patch him up and send him on his way. It just keeps happening and as the night bares down on him, alone in a filthy little bedsit in Manchester he gives up.

He pulls himself into a sitting position and draws his knees up to his chest, reaching for a cigarette, not caring that the smoke only makes the room hotter and the air is already bad, not caring that he's dropping ash on the bed sheets or that his throat is already raw from too many cigarettes the day before.

He's got visions in his head, little blond girls that slip through the cracks. 1234567 all good children go to heaven, except when they don't. Except when you send them to hell and he pulls hard on his cigarette, remembering her blue eyes and how he sent her to hell. Little Astra all that was left of her was a hand.

His own hands shake and he tries to drill holes in his head with his knees, tries to drive out the shakes and the memories and the lies he's told.

He's good at lying. He thinks that may be all he's good at. Lying and killing kids.

He's only twenty-three, it's been a year since Newcastle and everything going wrong. A year since he's had friends and a band and a fucking brain that worked.

A year since he realized how fucking pathetic he was.

He shakes in the dark, not knowing the hour and unable to calm his thudding mind. His useless skull that screams guilt at him and wants to see him bloody and dead.

The little room is too hot and John feels as if his head is going to explode. There's sweat running down his skin and his shirt is soaked and the cig is out.

He lights another one and coughs, needing water, not having any and not getting up to get some.

He'll be back in Ravenscar with the doctors and nurses and orderlies and all of the screaming and screams that come from him.

He can feel the walls chasing him, hear the taunts and mocks and beatings, echoing off of them. He can hear Astra calling for help. He can hear his own heart thudding painfully in his black chest.

His heart must be black too. Rotten and still pumping for some reason. It forgot to stop in Newcastle.

He nearly calms the shaking and reaches for the clock radio on the bedside table. The time is wrong but the radio works and he fiddles with it, trying desperately to break the silence and it's screaming.

The rain hasn't started again yet but there's leaves and branches scraping at his window, clawing like an animal trying to get in. Like someone trying to send a message.

He get's the radio working and hears Chuck Berry singing Johnny B. Goode through the static.

Johnny B. Goode.

John be good or John Law will come and lock you away. Gotta protect John Q. Public.

Good old Johnny on the spot, always there to help a friend, always there to make things worse.

King John was not a good man.

Johnny Rotten.

Johnny come lately. . . always too late. Too late to save Astra. Too late to sleep. Too late to try. Fucked if he can do anything about it.

Pretending to know things he didn't. Pretending he knew what he was doing. Pretending, pretending, pretending and lying. Lying some more.

Sally went round the moon but Johnny had gone round the bend and Jack had a new master and Mary still couldn't find all her fucking sheep.

He gives up sleeping and goes for the drink instead. The drink always helps and who cares if its bad for him? Johnny already went round the moon, all in a loopty loop.

It's all in a loopty loop.

The bloody dish ran away with the bloody saucer and no one knew where Alice lived anymore.

Did anyone remember Alice? It was a song about Alice.

No, it was a song about Astra.

He chokes on the end of his second cigarette and wishes they didn't end. Wishes they just burned forever.

The muggy little room is hazy and he feels light headed. He can't remember if he ate that day, doesn't care. The rent is payed up on the crappy little bedsit and that's all that matters.

He's got a dark little hole he can hide in.

The drink is hitting him and it helps a little. Never enough because all good children didn't go to heaven and he wasn't going either, not that he wanted it or that he even had any idea what he wanted.

Sleep?

Not likely.

He stays up the whole night, unable to rest, mind turning in useless, dead thoughts, skull caving in on it's self as the rain starts again outside, hot and hitting like bombs against the roof and window, big dollops of water, pummeling the earth and her darkness, keeping him inside, keeping him from sleep, keeping him with his dead thoughts and self.

He can barely see in the dark room, the wrong time is glowing on the clock, the static is nearly obliterating the music.

He's almost out of booze.

It's a bad night and as the sun starts to crack across the heavens he turns from it, tired, drunk, throat raw and head aching. A ,million cigarettes stubbed out in the ash tray.

Are you sleeping brother John?

One more John for his collection. One more bastard who couldn't sleep. One more John to fuck things up.

He'll go back to Ravenscar soon. He always does.

He finishes the booze and knows that in a few hours he'll have to venture out for more cigarettes.

John thinks of Matthews, Marks, Johns and Lukes, of Peters and Pauls and Marys quite contrary, Georgie porgie pudding and pie. . . all of them blowing in the wind.

Not sleeping was the right choice because even with his eyes open he still sees nightmares. No need to make it worse. No need to sleep. No need to leave the bedsit more than he has to. No need to put himself on another person. No need to see another soul. No need to see his own in the mirror. No need. No need. God, no need.

King John was not a good man- he had his little ways- and sometimes no one spoke to him for days and days and days.

King John was not a good man but he had his hopes and fears.

[rainintheevening]

"Telmarines? In Narnia?"

----

"We fought the Telmarines before, you know."

Caspian blinked at the girl (though she seemed more woman than girl, he guessed her to be close to his age) sitting beside him.

"When do you mean? Before when?"

Queen Susan pursed her lips, glanced at him sideways, before staring back into the flames. Their light danced over her face, warm orange flickers reflected in her eyes.

"It was... in the sixth year of our reign. In the fall of the year, when they appeared in the Western Woods, coming over the far Western mountains, the trees said."

Caspian couldn't suppress a little flinch at the mention of the trees.

Queen Susan must have noticed, because she smiled a little. "Why do you think your people fear the woods so much? It was the dryads and hamadryads that went to war for us then. Who saved Ed–"

She stopped too suddenly to be natural, and Caspian leaned forward, curiosity piqued. "I do not know this part of my history," he said quietly, felt a little niggle of shame. He was very aware of her use of 'your people'.

"But you fear the woods," and her smile was sad.

"We burned them." The words came before Caspian could think them over. "We burned the woods to beat them back. There is a nursery rhyme my aunt taught me, about the smoke, and the fire of the Telmarines."

He stopped, horror struck, shame wrapping round his throat, and the queen's glance burned him, even as tears filled her eyes.

"Leave me. Please." Gentle, even in grief.

Caspian opened his mouth, gripped by remorse, but when she turned her face still further away, he thought better of it. For what apology could he offer to remedy the sins of his millenia-dead ancestors?

He rose, bowed, turned away, miserable with the weight of it all.

Across the large, low underground room, he caught the eye of a dark-haired young man who had just entered, a piercing glance, before King Edmund was looking past him, waving a hand at someone else.

It was the trees that saved Ed, Queen Susan had said, and Caspian shivered suddenly, even in that close air.

Saved him from what? Or more correctly whom?

----

Keep reading

[dev1lm4n]

shroom

pairings: joel miller x f!reader

summary: in which you tried to help your grumpy mentor get over the mushroom's aphrodisiac side effect.

word count: 3.9k (gosh yea i went over the top with this)

warnings: explicit (18+), no actual penetration, thigh fucking, slight age-gap and reader's implied to be an orphan.

notes: honestly this is just a reason to write desperate joel but oh well :)

What lies beneath the gray-ish rocks were dove gray with a subtle hint of purple. Fresh air broke through your nasal cavities, gusts of wind combing your loose strands gently like a doting mother. Even in a photograph you could quickly take into account that it was peak summer, for the steep valleys are finally visible and pretty asters bloom abundantly on every inch of green. 

You would’ve guessed mid June was the cause of these heavenly blessings. The rest of the year the ranges were as white-peaked as any storybook mountains and they were especially cruel to visitors. Summer was just more so your cup of tea. 

Despite the relentless sun rays burning your skin and the itchiness from sweat and mosquitos, it’s a lot more inviting. Felt a lot like a long awaited vacation, one where you’d get tanned with friends on seashores and gossip about boys like it was the most important thing on earth. Things like that are simply left for your imagination. The United States of America hasn't been as liberating, ever since Cordyceps happened.

It’s not the first time you scaled along the wilderness in order to get to your destination unharmed. Without getting bitten by chomping, pestering infected, or worse, people. Nature is just naturally serene. A hug of browns, a shelter of long dwindling limbs, and a variety of edible materials that’s free to use. You were a quick learner and a considerably great adaptor. 

From dusty books piled up in your home, a FEDRA orphanage, you picked up knowledge on a collection of plants and animals native to the country. Being a resourceful forager might’ve been your one and only redeemable feature, and perhaps the only reason why Joel Miller agreed to bring you along on his trips.

Tess was the one who scouted you in the most bizarre fashion possible. You remembered vividly how she interrogated the fungi you picked on the city’s outskirts, asking why you’d pick up the one thing people refrain from eating these days. You remembered the amused look she had on her face, but it was all too long ago. Too long you’re starting to forget what she looked like smiling and full of hope. Time has passed and you’re not the same snotty, bratty teenager anymore. 

Though, you’re not exactly grown.

Still budding with youthful stupidity and brashness.

Which is where Joel came in handy. He was your tamer. The one who’d put a rough hand down when you’re being too rash in making decisions. The one who’d tug on your leash when you’re an exploding mess of fury. Tess was kinder and sweeter and.. more of a makeshift mother figure to you, while Joel was whatever he was. He wasn’t introduced into the picture until last winter where you managed to get two different people hunting for your head. Which you still insist wasn’t entirely your fault.

Tess was worried, you understood, but he’s a real mood killer at times.

You watched along the trees, how they swayed in a warming breeze. Hands tied behind your back as you hummed a nursery rhyme fondly. This time it was ‘London Bridge is Falling Down’ on repeat for a billion times, which you’re sure is going to get some unappeased comments from the ball of grouch behind you. He always hated anything fun. Always chalking it up to being far too dangerous or distracting. You were even banned from keeping a firearm around him. What a joke.

“Quit singin’. You’re going to attract trouble.”

“Fucking hell.”

“What was that?”

“You’re such a bore, Joel.”

You could feel his gaze on the back of your head, probably looking at you as if you’re a foul harm to society. Tess always said that it’s just the way he looks but you don’t buy it. You’ve seen the way he smiled at a thing she said, even when it’s closer to a shy grin than a full ear-to-ear smile. An exasperated sigh was all you heard from him next, then a few grumbles about how you two are going to set camp next to a large pine tree as it’s getting late.

“It’s getting late or are your old knees aching?”

“What’re you doin’?”

Joel’s voice almost shook your skin off your bones. There was a delicious moment when you turned on your heels to face him, face washed blank with confusion, like your brain cogs couldn’t turn fast enough to process the information. It’s like you’re caught popping his favorite pills, when it really was just another one of your fascinating finds. You weren’t planning on sharing with him out of all people, so you were visibly annoyed. The distasteful twist of your lips had him scowling.

“It’s just food. Reishi mushroom.”

You showcased the fungus, waving it in front of his scrunched nose. The mushroom was reddish brown varnished with kidney-shaped caps that fanned out the closer it got to the ends. It’s supposedly bitter tasting, but it wasn’t poisonous. You looked convinced enough it wouldn’t straight-up kill the both of you upon tasting, even when it’s your first time encountering such a species.

“You sure it’s not poisonous?”

“You could have the first bite if you’d like.”

He looked at you with that expression– the same one he put on when he’s interested in taking on your challenge instead of diffusing the bickering. It’s harder to see what he’s conspiring when the darkness is borderline blinding. You couldn’t cater to every wrinkle and divot on his face, even with great concentration. Joel reached for the mushroom and held it lightly against the rough pads of his fingers. Examining it much closer under moonlight’s glint.

“We’ll have it tonight as soup.”

His words were absolute, even when Tess is around. You knew that and he knew that. It was unspoken. You surrendered your merry bounty willingly without throwing a childish tantrum this time. He can be cruel and unapologetic; you weren’t exactly eager to go through that route with him. Especially when your first filling dinner is on the line. You simply nodded at his decision, twisting your tactical knife back into its shell and stuffing it deep into your cargo jeans. Slightly sour about the entire ordeal.

There was always something cathartic about having a filled stomach after a long day of trekking, borderline orgasmic if you had to describe it in another way. It was an extremely appreciated coincidence as well that Joel managed to have in hand an actual unopened can of Campbell’s Tomato Soup. Although horrifically passed its best-by date, it wasn’t rancid or anything. Just slightly sour, but you’re sure the preservatives on that can would do you a favor this once. 

You could barely breathe upon settling down on your sleeping bag. The buttons on your cargos digging into your inflated stomach, in which you hastily undid once you’re entirely submerged in the parachute-like material. You huffed. Burped and earned an irritated grunt by none other than Joel Miller. Then let the chirping of crickets and rustling of leaves create a peaceful symphony to lull you to sleep. Gentle summer breeze carried the scent of pine and wildflowers, invigorating your senses. And you’re gone in just a split second.

It felt like being coddled by nature itself, as corny as it sounded. What you didn’t expect was to be startled awake when the moonlight’s still as bright as ever. A light fuck escaped your lips. Irritated was what you are. You’re as aware as can be, ears tuned in to whatever it is that posed a threat to your goodnight sleep. But nothing came up. Just the occasional hoot of an owl, distant calls from coyotes, and what seemed to be woodland creatures rustling around the thick bushes. 

Maybe it’s just your terrible paranoia cruising. Maybe you’re starting to hallucinate from fatigue, or maybe it’s just some stupid squirrel in the branches. You shuffled in your cocoon of a sleeping bag before turning ever so slightly to face Joel’s side. To face where Joel Miller, your irritating companion, is supposed to rest. Though for the first time in history, his absence crushed your heart.

You were terrified. Eyes wide and round as you stared in disbelief.

He was gone.

You scrambled to your feet. Taking unlevelled steps towards his side of the camp, you could feel your chest tighten at the confirmation of his disappearance. He wasn’t there no matter how many times you flipped his sleeping bag front to back.

Has he deserted you? Did he finally get tired of you? Were you being way too bratty today? You didn’t think you’d be this distressed at the absence of someone you hated with a passion, but here you were, waterline overrun by stray tears threatening to spill out at any given time. So weak and helpless, it’s pathetic.

Was that a moan? 

You froze, as still as you could be, trying to listen intently if the sound decided to repeat itself. It did. This time you could make out what it sounded like: guttural, low, and indistinct. The way your face contorted was comical to say the least. At this point, your mind started to race with all the creative questions. Was it an animal? A person in distress? Oh, or is it something more sinister and dangerous? You didn’t have your gun on you so it’d be obvious suicide if you went on to pursue, wouldn’t it?

This is how people died in horror movies

You knew that and a part of your youthful curiosity (the chunk Tess hated so much) made you take another step forward towards the general direction. The puddle you stepped on rippled and splashed. Your wary eyes dart around, scanning the surrounding area for any signs of movement.

There was nothing of course. Just the waving branches that’s starting to make you feel a little disoriented and claustrophobic. All you could hear was your own ragged breathing above the low groan that once again was being emitted from behind the tree line. You swore it sounded more human-like the more you tuned in.

Dry branches crackled and broke underneath the heavy soles of your boots, making you cringe inwardly at the thought that someone must’ve noticed your moves by now. This is far beyond stupid you decide. You should've prepared an eulogy by now. Maybe even a few stems of the lovely aster you enjoyed so much. If this was a serial killer lurking underneath your shadows, your funeral was right around the corner. But it wasn’t. What made the noise wasn’t a stray squirrel, nor was it a stray clicker. It was Joel fucking Miller. 

"Joel?"

His name slipped out of your tongue like melted butter; unstoppable and out of instinct. He's looked at you multiple times during your stays in Tess' flat. Sometimes with gentle aloofness and other times with what you chalked up to be disgust or even disdain, and you'd always cater to his glares with your incredulous grin. This time it was.. different.

His pupils were large— larger than what you think was humanly possible with it almost swallowing the entirety of his irises. A humorous part of your brain wondered if he was turning into some sort of werewolf because of the full moon, if he'd pounce on you with his furry claws.

Your running thoughts made you steer away from what's actually presented in front of you. The more that you look at it, he looked somewhat.. pained. He's never looked pained before, not when a bullet lodged in precisely behind his arteries or even when an upset customer drove a rusty knife down his side. Joel's been annoyingly tough. But now he's visibly drenched in sweat, face adorned with a shade of crimson, while he shivered and groaned against the base of a tree. This was odd. You slowly crouched over to his side, but your attempts were futile when he's waving his arms in your direction as if shooing a dog away.

You frowned. He rolled to his side, trying to avoid your incoming slaught of confrontation.

"Were you shot?"

"No."

"Were you clawed by a bear?"

"No."

"Are we going to play 20 questions or are you going to let me help you?"

He turned slightly, just enough so that he could finally see the irritation weaved through your expression. Joel then grumbled something about how you shouldn't be out here and that it's better to get back in your sleeping bag. You ignored him, as always, inching even closer to see what he's up to.

Stubbornness runs deep in your blood and you weren't going to let him die out here in the woods when you could barely read a map by itself. You didn't even know how to determine where North is. To simply put it, you'd die without him standing up straight, whether in this unruly jungle or under the gun of Tess' customer.

"Your mushrooms are poisonous," he accused sternly, boring his deep brown eyes into yours. 

"No. It's not. I'm fine and well, so it must be a you problem mister," you probed your fingers into his tough chest, not accepting any sort of insult to your own specialty. "Fuck, are you having some sort of heart attack?"

"I'm not. I'm just.. oh god," he stifled his groans with his palm. Now that you're finally seeing him in a better light, it looked like he was.. palming himself through the thick fabric of his tight jeans. Was he rocking into his own palm? Or was it just your perverted imaginations playing tricks on your silly little mind?

Your stomach lurched at the possibility, then a curl of disgust had you pressing your lips together into a thin line. This is your time to back away. He gave you that chance a while ago and you should've let your curiosity lay low. He was your goddamn mentor and worse, Tess' partner, it'd be wrong to see him in this state. But isn't it your responsibility for inflicting this kind of torment? It's your idea to harvest the mushrooms. You're dealing with some twisted version of Schrödinger's cat where no good options are presented in front of you. It's a moral dilemma.

"Are you?" you squeaked. "Are you masturbating?"

"No. Just get back to.. oh."

"Do ya need help?"

He looked at you like you're his inferno. The one that's going to drag him straight to hell from your sweet sweet words. God, he shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't be looking down your loose tank top like some old geezer, you're probably twenty years his junior and he's here rubbing his inconvenience away at your expense. You didn't even know what you're offering. Did you even know what he's like?

"Please, just. You're going to regret it, sweetheart."

"How would you know?"

"I'm like old enough.. fuck.. to be your dad or something. You should just go. Tess is gonna kill me if she knew."

"Joel, this is my fault," you persisted, eyes bright with a sense of genuine worry.

Joel's jaw clenched hard at your enticing offer, a bead of sweat dribbled down the side of his temple nervously. He looked like he was struggling to pull out a coherent reason as to why this shouldn't happen. Why he shouldn't be the one to defile your innocence and corrupt you with his bloody hands. Nothing came out though, just a brief desperate grunt. 

You swallowed thickly, before taking his lack of an answer as a sign of encouragement. Your hands moved painfully slow. As if waiting to see whether he'd push your hands away or try to stop you in any way, but he never did. Not even when you touched the damp denim clinging onto his bare skin, gently as if he's made of porcelain.

You've never.. done this which frankly explained the awkward touches you're prone to do, or the look in your eyes that further emphasized the fact that you had no idea what you're doing. Aside from the scarce pornographic magazine stashed in your orphanage's library, there wasn't any sort of guidance as to how you'd navigate your sexual life. But you’re almost sure that this was a good start from the way his scrunched up eyebrows start to untangle at your touch. 

With that in mind, you traced over the shape of his confined cock, before settling on the damp tip leaking over his jeans. It felt warm and somewhat foreign. You circled over the spot several times, encouraged by his low groans. Did he feel good?

"Fuck. Okay. You wanna help me out and be a good girl?" he rasped, finally grasping your hand with his calloused fingers to get you even closer to where he wanted you. He guided you eagerly. All voices of reason vanished in his head.

You weren’t able to say anything. It felt like you're drowning in his existence; the oak-like smell of his flannel, the rough syllables he uttered, and god that terribly persuasive grin he had on. He's secretly smug about this and you knew it.

"Come here," he beckoned you to come closer and so you did, without a single complaint like what your chatty mouth is used to. You're so quiet and pliant– something he's been wishing for from the start of your journey. Joel feverishly pulled you back onto his lap, pressing his hardened front onto the thick fabric of your cargo pants. 

You yelped. He let out a soft mumble of your name. His hips stuttered at the new sensation. He's more than ready to feel you from the inside, get wrapped up in your velvety walls, but the thought of Tess had him pulling on his reins. "Listen. I'm not– oh.. I'm not going to ruin you, okay? Just gonna.. Just gonna use your thighs."

Thighs? What’s that supposed to mean? Your clueless expression had him shudder in anticipation. You’re so cute and perfect to corrupt. It’s definitely not the first time he thought of you in that manner. He secretly loved each and every one of your bickering games, it riled him up beneath all the cold shoulder facade. 

Without further warning, Joel manhandled you with his strong arms. You let out a strained gasp as he towered over you, the ground hard against your back. Heat and adrenaline ran through your veins at the sight of his concentrated eyes. He looked determined to go through with this, no matter the consequences.

He took in all of you, not with his touches, just with the soft brown pupils he’s blessed with. You knew that he wasn’t going to be all sweet and lovely, although you silently wished he’d be a little gentler when he pulled your cargos off. You’d wish for him to tell you how pretty you are and how much you meant to him, because as fucked up as it was, you’ve always wanted him to like you. The infatuation was cliché and stupid, but you could never have enough.

Joel was quick to fold you in half, holding your legs up by the underside of your thighs as he observed. A warm palm hovering over your throbbing cunt extinguished any last traces of your desire to rebel; the heat between your thighs only became worse at his nimble fingers dragging along your panties. Out of a need for more, you rubbed your thighs together and tried your best to buck into his touch with a shaky breath. 

“I’m not a good guy,” Joel trailed off while he busied himself unbuckling his belt, the sound of the leather sliding out his jean loops ignited a fire within you. “Fuckin’ killed so many people. Stole their things and ran.”

“Do you.. oh.. do you still want to go through with this, sweetheart?”

The nickname was quick to send goosebumps down your back. He’s driving you insane and he had the audacity to ask these questions. He should’ve just seen how drenched you are beneath the scant excuse of panties. You nodded breathlessly and god was it a sight to watch his moral beliefs crumble apart at your confirmation.

“Keep your thighs together, girl,” he ordered briefly, nails digging into your plush thighs as he finally freed his cock. It’s feverishly hot against your skin and drooling with a copious amount of precum, you could even feel the head teasingly poke onto your clothed slit. You shuddered and clenched around nothing at the sensation. “Please.”

“God. Such a good girl are you?” he managed to find the time to tease you as he slid between your thighs, looking down you could see the flushed bulbous head twitching with need. Joel let out a groan he's been holding on to for a long time, even just having your plush thighs squeezing him was enough to send jolts of pleasure through every part of his aching body. 

He started to thrust his hips at a slow pace; drawing them back slowly and pushing them forward with enough force to knock you back onto the tree trunk each time. Your heartbeat grew wild in your ribcage, hard and fast as he relished in the feeling of you. You weren’t sure of what the feeling was, but you could feel your clit pulse at the friction his cock made everytime it slipped through.

You admired the color of his tip which reminded you of a wild salmon, slightly pink with tinges of nudes, spilling so much of that thick milky substance which quickly coats the insides of your thighs. What a sight it was to be beneath Joel Miller. Your past self would’ve probably envied you for getting so lucky, whimpering and gasping for air as he held you with an iron grip. It felt so good, you’re at a loss for words. All those nights spent pining over him and spreading your pretty pussy to the mere thought of him is finally paid for.

“Feel good, girl?

He granted you a form of reprieve when his fingers finally pulled your panties aside to quickly find your clit and tease it in tight circles. His calloused fingers provided such good ridges to grind yourself onto. The sound that’s spilling out of your lips was embarrassing, almost pitiful, but it seemed that with each and every whimper Joel looked even more pleased. The expression on his face was sinful by itself. You could only imagine how foul this scenery was from a third person point of view.

“So good to me, shit, where did that pretty mouth of yours disappear?”

He bucked even faster, and so did you, eager to chase after the euphoric friction one another provided. The coil finally broke at his last press against your needy clit. You whimpered, an airy sound as your cunt clenched frantically around nothing, globs of white leaking right through your panties and onto the dried up leaves underneath. 

Joel let out a smooth chuckle at the sight, dutifully rubbing circles onto your clit as he reached his high. Ribbons of white spurt out unconditionally. There was so much you wondered when his last release was. Your tank top was drenched and so were your thighs. The sheer obscenity had you buckling onto him. You felt hot, over-sensitive, and wrong. 

Realization sunk into you as he pulled away and settled to your side.

“No speaking of this,” you murmured, still in a trance of blissful pleasure.

“Yes, ma’am.”

His chuckle resonated, only to mingle with your own.

[gg-pedro]

can you hear the music (ch. 6) - joel miller x reader

masterlist

summary: everyone in jackson is trying to distract themselves from something. you teach ellie piano, and you find yourself trying to help more than one miller settle into their new world.

chapter 5: joel loves you, and you let him. you could live a million more days like this.

warnings: post outbreak!joel, jackson!era, joel x reader, AFAB!reader, platonic!ellie x reader, protective!joel, implied age gap, unprotected piv, ellie plays the piano, sweet smut, fingering, joel needs taking care of, bittersweet fluff, but almost entirely fluff, happy ending :)

words: 5.5k

a/n: grand finale! i hope i delivered for all of you. thank you endlessly, and from the bottom of my heart, for reading and supporting my stuff and this series. its been so incredibly fun and fulfilling. enjoy this!!

-

Life was sweet. Life was good. 

You blinked and spring had become summer. The fields grew unruly with wild grass and baby’s breath, the sun shined longer. Clouds lingered, but they didn’t stay. Days were hot and saccharine. 

You heard music everywhere. In the swallows outside your window at dawn, the rustle in the pear trees when the wind blew, in Joel’s voice when he hummed you to sleep. In the creaks in the floorboards that you had memorized as his footsteps, the hymns and nursery rhymes that kids sang, and in your old upright piano that was slowly losing falling out of tune.

It had been quiet for so long, but now it was loud– deafening at times. Impossible not to notice.

The best music of all, perhaps, was the songs Ellie was learning for the informal recital that you’d suggested she put on. And even sweeter than that was the way she’d changed since you first met. She no longer reminded you of a scared little girl, always choosing the fight over the flight. She was strong and bubbly and hilarious, and watching her find a reason to be proud of herself was even more rewarding than watching her become a talented musician.

The song selection was completely inappropriate, but it was perfect anyway: Billy Joel’s Uptown Girl (for her Joel, of course), the Jurassic Park theme, and finally, Ain’t Too Proud To Beg by the Temptations. 

The two of you were conspiring against Joel for weeks now, planning the surprise for him and practicing whenever you got the chance. 

You had a sneaking suspicion that he and Ellie were hiding something from you, too. Ellie was far too giddy when she saw the two of you together. She lingered a little too long after dinner, or when you were sleeping over, or when you’d planned a day to spend together.

If Ellie had one fault, it was that she was awful at keeping secrets.

After inviting you out on a horse ride through the outskirts of the perimeters of Jackson, Joel took a detour. He went northward, through the green woods and out into a clearing, and you were soon back at the white farmhouse. 

It looked the same, aside from a little more wear on the outside from this year’s harsh winter and wet spring. The roof was still caving in and the doorway was still open. The ivy was thriving, twisting up towards the peak where the sun had worn away at the crisp white paint.

“You wanna see the inside?” Joel asked, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“Is it safe?”

“I’m here, ain’t I?”

He helped you slide off the back of the mare, your hand slid instinctively into his as you walked up to the wrap around porch. Inside, the interior was fitted with dark hardwood and floral wallpaper that had started to fade and peel. In the front sitting room, the sun had bleached the upholstered arm chairs and faded the photos on the wall. Still, it was beautifully preserved, clear that this place was home to a lifetime of memories.

The breeze blowing in through the front door was warm as Joel took both of your hands into his. He was slightly tanned now, and patches of his salt and pepper hair looked more caramel. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling when you looked at him– he was gorgeous, and you loved him, and he was yours.

“I know I can’t give you this,” he started quietly. “I wish I could, baby. I would if I could.”

“I’d never ask you for this, Joel,” you countered.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re sweet and you never ask for things, not even if you wanted to.” He brought up a hand to brush your hair behind your ears. He always said he liked it when it was out of the way, because he liked seeing your face. “I’m wanna ask you for somethin’, though”

“Okay, shoot.”

“I want you to move in. With us. Me and Ellie. Before you–”

“Joel–”

“–she really looks up to you, you’re good for her. It’d mean somethin’ to her, and to me. I know, I know, I’ve asked you a hundred times, but I’m askin’ for real this time,” he said, cutting you off once and for all.

“It wasn’t real all those other times?” You looked at him with a smile. “What would we be then, if we lived together? What would you call me?”

His partner. His wife? Just his, maybe. 

You looked away from him for a moment, watching the sunlight as it poured through the windows and highlighted everything in orange. The shelves propped up against the walls were lined with books and picture frames and knicknacks. There was still a throw blanket draped over the couch. People had built a life here, and were likely forced to abandon it all. 

When you looked back, Joel was reaching into his pocket to pull out something that was small and caught in the light. It was thin and shiny gold, a ring with three symmetric diamonds set into the band. He took your hand, dirt under your clipped fingernails and all, and slid it onto your ring finger. 

“I’m not askin’ you to marry me. We can call it that, if that means anythin’ to you. I just want to give you somethin’ nice. A nice life where I can keep you safe. We can paint the house, fix it up inside a little. Give you somethin’ like this. I’ll call you anything you want.”

You laughed at the way Joel was dancing around his words, and the way that he continuously fidgeted with the ring on your finger. Always avoiding strings, giving you a way out before you even had the chance to get a word in. You wished you had found a way in all this time to make him understand your commitment to him, without a ring or a pretty house or any of it. 

You just rested your hands on his shoulders and kissed him. His hands found the small of your waist and you melted into each other with a familiar rhythm. Light was striking your eyes as you pulled back, and you nodded.

A life. A nice one. Yes. A thousand times yes. 

“A ring and all, hm?” you replied quietly, still wrapped up in him. “Yes. That’s my answer this time.”

He kissed your cheek, and you could feel his lips curve into a smile. “Okay. Okay, good. I love you.”

You leaned into him and he wrapped an arm around you from the side. “I love you, too.”

Again, you stared at the picture frames still hung on the wall. A full family– parents, kids, grandparents, all commemorated permanently in this house. You could have something like this, too. Not everything had come to an end when the world had fallen apart. People persisted. Love, connection, and happiness. It was still here, alive and humming in all of the places you had been.

You realized now, in Joel’s arms, that you had to start from scratch. Build up the beautiful life that was already budding before you. This was something you would fight for. 

-

Fresh white paint slopped messily onto chipped brown walls, Joel in the corner of your eye with paint splattered on his own worn t-shirt.

You heard the sound of his footsteps padded by the sheets on the floor approaching you, even over the music that was flowing from the crank record player in the corner of the room. An old Frank Sinatra: Songs For Swiningin’ Lovers! record was spinning and skipping, songs from forever ago that made your heart feel a little heavier.

He grinned at you as he grabbed your waist, taking the paintbrush you held in your hand and holding it up out of your reach. 

“Hey,” you warned when you broke the kiss, “I’m picking up your slack over here.”

He laughed and swiped his thumb over your cheek. “I see that. Got paint all over your pretty face.”

As you were about to protest, he kissed you again and his hands trailed down to your hips and ass. He tasted like cool silver and sparks of electricity. His beard scratched your face as he started to back you up to the wall. The paintbrush clattered to the floor. 

The two of you had been systematically moving furniture and covering whatever else you could as you started the process of freshening up his and Ellie’s place. Your place, too. You’d all but cleared your own house out, and you felt your lives officially combining. The whole process of knowing Joel had been like passing right through him. Knowing him deeply– the good, the bad, and the ugly– until you could stand on the other side and look him in the eye and say that you loved all of it. 

“You up for a break?” He offered with his mouth ghosting your collar. 

“Painting’s gonna take forever if you keep this up,” you pointed out.

“Not my fault that y’look so damn good in overalls.”

You laughed, and he laughed, and he slung you over his shoulder before you could get another word in to carry you upstairs.

You shed your clothes like a second skin onto the floor, lying bare for each other in the sunlit bedroom you shared. Joel fucked you differently now. There was no desperation, no quickness, no fear that you were going to disappear beneath him. He fucked you sickeningly slow, torturously, like he had realized that it would last a lifetime. A lifetime of feeling you.

His tongue met all of your weak spots while his fingers breached your throbbing entrance. He pumped long, gratuitous beats with his ring and middle finger and you shook as the ridges and years of wear on his hands hit every pressure point that made you feel good. 

Compliments and praise rolled off his tongue and reverberated into your body. Sweet girl. Pretty little thing. Feels good, huh? Beautiful. Tell me you feel good, baby. Just like that. Mine. Mine. 

It felt like he could make you come with his voice alone. 

He liked playing with you, though. Knew intimately how weak he made you. Still, you felt like you could give your most vulnerable self over to him and he would protect it with his life. 

“Joel, Joel– so close–”

He paused his work, meeting your eyes between your parted thighs. “Not yet, darlin’, I’m gonna feel you come. Wanna feel it.”

Tilting your hips up to meet his, he hooked your legs on his shoulders and thrusted methodically inside of you. He stopped every once in a while to tease your clit, still crying for attention, with the wet head of his cock. You moved your hand down to touch yourself, rubbing fast circles against the spot, but he grabbed your hand away and insisted on stimulating you himself.

He treated you too well. Didn’t want you lifting a finger while he was taking care of you. With his free hand he felt you up all over, raising the hairs on your body and making you shiver. He loved watching what he did to you. Loved when you made him feel drunk and desperate. 

The one thing you could give was grabbing his arm as you came, letting him feel your walls convulse and shudder around his cock. That was usually his trigger– he couldn’t stand it much longer as he watched you whine and moan around his name, repeating it over and over like a fiery prayer. 

Oh, Joel. Joel. Joel. Joel. 

Sweating and panting in the small room, already hot from the harsh summer, he laid there quietly with you. You could hear You Make Me Feel So Young still warbling from the record player as you ran your hand up and down his side.

Dark brown lashes met his skin as his eyes slipped shut. You couldn’t tell if he was getting old fast or just getting more comfortable with you, because it seemed like he was falling asleep next to you every chance he got.

You were glad. Setting all of your happiness and contentment being with him, you were glad that you made him feel safe– to watch those walls that he’d built up so high and impenetrable to slowly drop since you’d met him.

You propped yourself up to lean over and kiss the bridge of his nose. “Was this your plan all along? Tire both of us out so you had an excuse to stop painting for the day?”

He cracked an eye open, a smile spreading on his face. “M’not tired. You paint all you want, baby, I could watch you all day.”

“Mhm, making me do all the work, as per usual.” You shut your eyes and dropped your head against his chest.

“You’re too young to complain. I’m too old.”

“Not too old to fuck me like that, though?”

He laughed in a way that told you he was also rolling his eyes. “Never too old for that.”

“Touché, Miller.”

Your breathing started to even out and your skin felt temperate from the sun breaking through the curtains. Joel’s arms were firmly tucked around you and it almost felt like an instinct. He protected you, even if you didn’t want him to. Took care of you when he didn’t have to. Loved you just because he could. 

You let him. You could live a million more days like this.

-

You painted more walls, filled old cracks, broke a pipe or two in the process. Joel was always there to fix things. It was messy and far from a perfect renovation, but it was home and that was enough. 

Your personal passion project, however, was fixing up the backyard. With the lawn mowed and overgrown weeds under control, you were determined to start a garden. You picked a six by three patch of land towards the back, adjacent to the huge bur oak that provided a nice radius of shade for half the day until the sun shifted. 

Joel had built the wooden perimeter for you and you had nurtured the rest. All it took was a morning of ripping up grass and a few seed packets from the town’s garden, and your plants were already starting to breach the soil and bloom. On a particularly warm afternoon, watering can in hand, you were worried that the zucchini was going to overtake the whole thing.

From the corner of your eye you saw Ellie slide out of the back door and stomp over to the shade of the oak tree, promptly laying down on the cool grass with a groan. Her hair, usually tied back in a practical ponytail, was sprawled out on the ground beneath her head.

Wordlessly, you dropped the watering can and sank down a few feet away, facing her. 

“What’s up with you, kid?”

She huffed again, covering her eyes with her forearms. “My hair’s too fucking long,” she said at last. “Making everything hot. I wish I was bald.”

You laughed. “I’ll shave it off, if you want.”

She lifted her arm slightly to look over at you. “It’d look sick, right?”

“Yeah. Super metal,” you agreed. “You’d still be pretty bald by wintertime, though.”

 She only groaned at that revelation.

“Do you know how to braid?” You asked, lying down on your back. The tree was rustling in the wind and the gaps in the leaves allowed thin beams of light through. 

“Like, a regular braid? Kinda… falls out, though. Then I have to care about it.”

“French braids, then? The kind that goes up your whole head?”

“It’d look stupid,” she concluded. “I’m not seven.”

“No, c’mon. It’ll stay in for a few days, too. If it’s out of your face, you won’t even have to think about it.”

She sat up this time, running her fingers back and forth through the grass. “I don’t know how.”

“I’ll show you. Go get a brush and some hair ties.”

With simply surviving being Ellie’s number one priority for so long, you doubted she had ever put much mental energy into caring about how she looked. A hairstyle and clothes were surely an afterthought when living to see the next day had been so uncertain. But she was a teenage girl who had been at a comfortable distance from death for a while now, and she deserved to feel good about herself. Pretty, even.

So the two of you sat, her sat criss-crossed in front of you as you got to work on parting her hair into two and weaving tight plaits into each side. You tried to be as precise and methodical as possible without pulling too hard or making her sit there for too long. Her hair was long, thick and slightly wavy in the humidity. 

You put both hands on her shoulders when you were done, admiring your work. “Better? Turn, let me see the front.”

She did as she was told, smoothing her hands over the braids that sat on her shoulders. “Yeah, this is better.”

“You look beautiful.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fuck off.”

“I’m telling you the truth.” You tilted your head and smiled at her. “If you like it, I’ll show you how to do it on yourself.”

She shrugged as she stood up, taking the brush and comb from your hands. “Dunno. Ponytails are like, a billion times easier.”

“If you say so.” You caught her wrist before she could turn to walk away. “Offer still stands. I’m always here for… girl stuff. I know a lot more about some things than Joel. Okay?”

“Yeah, girl stuff. Hair and periods and shit. Got it. Thanks.” She waved you off dismissively. 

“I’m serious. Just know that,” you called after her.

“I heard you!” She yelled back, already halfway across the lawn.

Joel came home later than expected that night, long after the two of you had eaten dinner. He was half expecting you and Ellie to be in bed by then, so it came as a surprise when he shut the front door and heard back and forth bickering mixed with tearful laughter pouring out of Ellie’s bedroom.

Quietly, he made his way upstairs, lingering by her door that was slightly ajar. Warm, pink light seeped out of the space along with the familiar sound of her giggle.

With a fistful of your hair in her hand, trying and failing at her attempt to create a presentable french braid, you were winded from laughter.

“For how awful this looks, Ellie, I don’t know how you’re managing to scalp me.”

“I’m doing it like you showed me! Grab a chunk from here, put it together, put it over the middle. Chunk, together, middle. Chunk–”

She yanked on a thick strand of hair. “Jesus, ow.”

“Shut up, it looks great.”

Holding up a mirror to your hair, you shook your head.“It looks like I got in a fight with a rabid animal and lost.”

Ellie laughed again, her grip going weak as she flopped backwards onto her bed. Shaking out the rest of your hair, Joel watched you lay down next to her, trying to catch your breath as you wiped tears from your eyes. You looked at each other in the dim pink light, twin grins on your faces.

“Do you regret your offer now?” Ellie asked.

You shook your head. “No, not really.”

Joel pressed himself up against the wall in the hallway, smiling to himself. Things were so bad for so long. When things are bad enough for long enough, you think it’ll stay that way forever. You think it’ll never be good again. You think you’ve changed for the worse.

Joel often discounted himself, thinking that all that bad had done something irreversible to him– an insidious, evergreen thing that he wouldn’t be able to tear out of himself. 

But you– Ellie– his girls, you washed that away in him every new day with you. Soothed burns from a lifetime ago, siphoned out poison that felt like it had eroded him entirely. Things could still be good. He could be good for the two of you, at least. 

With time, everything heals. He was sure of it.

-

The only thing missing from your new home was a piano.

It was the last thing to move, and it took you, Joel, Tommy, and a few passersbys who were tired of watching the three of you struggle to carry it just a few houses down the street.

You were heartbroken when the move had thrown it badly out of tune. You could play, but you were hardly a professional, and you were at a loss as to how one was supposed to tune an 88-key piano. 

Joel watched you sit in front of it, hands steepled in front of your face after you had attempted to transpose a few songs you knew into something that sounded mildly similar, but it was no use. 

He put a hand on your back as you stabbed the keyboard in a few more places, fingers moving fluidly as you played different scales. The sound was twingy and grating.

“It’s alright, hon. We’ll fix it,” he murmured.

“It was already old to begin with. I should’ve known. You’d have to take the whole face off, tune each one… and with what, a wrench? I don’t even know what it’s supposed to sound like.”

Joel was quiet for a while, inspecting the front panel of the instrument as you continued to play out of tune melodies. “I’m pretty handy, ain’t I? It’s not rocket science. You know what it’s supposed to sound like, c’mon now. You know the thing like the back of your hand.”

When you didn’t respond, Joel left the room. You dropped your forehead onto the keyboard, cringing when it made a loud, angry sound. Maybe this was a sign. You should never have disturbed it. You had this one perfect thing, this piano that had fallen right into your lap when you had moved to Jackson. It had changed everything. It made you feel human again. It felt like a sign from the universe, one that reaffirmed the creeping fear that you could only have so many good things and that you certainly never deserved them all.

Joel pulled you from your stupor when he sat down on the bench next to you. He had a screwdriver in hand, silently putting himself to work on revealing the hammers and the pin block. You didn’t lift your head from your hands until he started tapping on middle C, then crudely turning the tuning pin with a striking wrench until the sound was clear and in tune.

“Stop, stop, don’t touch it– that's it,” you said with your hand on his wrist.

He nodded, and you weren’t even sure he recognized the wave of relief that washed over your expression. He just went onto the next, D, until you signaled for him to stop when you heard the correct sound.

Joel sat with you for hours as the two of you worked on it. You took over after a while, making him play different chords on his guitar to ensure the sounds were matching up on the black and white keys together. You were almost certainly driving the neighbors insane, hitting the same notes over and over again until muscle memory kicked in and it sounded like it was right.

It was an amateur's job, undoubtedly. Any trained musician would probably be horrified by your heavy handedness, your unreliable ear for the notes, Joel’s corroboration on the guitar– it wasn’t perfect. To you, though, it was. By the time you had adjusted every tuning pin, it sounded better than it ever had before.

Tired and driven a little crazy from the incessant noise, you and Joel sank down into the couch. The main panel still needed to be reattached, the floor cleaned from loose sheet music and tools, but it didn’t matter. He wrapped his left arm around you like he always did, placing a gentle kiss onto your forehead.

“Told you,” he chided. 

“Thank you. I love you.”

You dropped your head into the warm crook of his neck, and he didn’t say anything back. He didn’t have to. He’d been telling you he loved you for the past three hours, in his own secret language that enveloped you and hummed quietly in the air. I’d do anything for you, it said, whether it be peeling your orange or fixing your old piano or falling on his own sword. For you, I would. I would I would I would.

“Don’t have to thank me, m’just glad you’re happy.”

You didn’t have much left to repay him with. You don’t think you’d ever be out of debt with him, for giving you everything. You would have to make it up to him. 

-

With your piano renewed and that nagging empty feeling confidently shut out of your head, you and Ellie practiced together like mad. She was insistent on rehearsing the songs she had picked for her recital until they were entirely flawless. 

You forced her to set a date to show Joel out of fear that she’d never come to a point where she felt satisfied with herself. He went out with Tommy that day, promising he’d bring something back for the two of you, which signaled that he would be gone for the afternoon and into the evening.

You braided Ellie’s hair, fixed up your new home together, and taught her how to bow at the end of her very informal performance. She was refreshingly giddy and excited, telling you over and over again how surprised Joel would be. 

“He already knows you’re good, hon,” you reminded her.

“Yeah, but I’m like super fucking good now. Bet he doesn’t know what my dainty little lady fingers can do.”

You laughed, pulled her in close to your side, and agreed before she asked to practice one more time before he got home.

When you heard him at the door that remained permanently unlocked, you were in the middle of dragging two chairs from the kitchen into the living room to position by the piano. You greeted him, and he kissed you long and slow, grabbing you from behind.

“You look nice. Really pretty, darlin’. Why’re all the lights off? Am I forgetting somethin’?” He said, a hint of concern in his low voice.

You shook your head and pulled yourself away from him. “No. We have a surprise for you,” you revealed. “Go up and change into something nice. We’ll be down here.”

You could see the gears turning in Joel’s mind, leafing through his recollection of birthdays and anniversaries and any other thing he could think of that would warrant a surprise.

“Everything’s fine, Joel. Better than fine. Good. It’s just us.”

He put his hands up in surrender before disappearing up the stairs. 

You sat next to Ellie on the piano bench, wrapping both of her hands up in yours. A single, loose french braid ran down her head and spilled over onto her shoulder. A few stubborn flyaways curled up around her temple and framed her face. 

“You look perfect. You’ll be great. It’s Joel, anyway, you could play Baa Baa Black Sheep and he’d give you a standing ovation.” You smiled.

She nodded, smiling alongside you. “Yeah, I know.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, so you pulled her into a long hug before letting them fall. The universe worked in funny ways, you thought. You had Ellie to thank for bringing Joel here, and Maria for forcing her into trivial music lessons after music had become little more than obsolete after the world had come to a screeching halt.

But mostly, you wanted to thank her for showing her so much good. For reminding you that some things, the most important things, never really did fade.

“Thank you. For everything.”

“Yeah… you’re welcome. For whatever I did.”

Joel came down the stairs slowly, evident that he was tired and his right side was bothering him again. He had a hand on the healed scar on his abdomen when he entered the living room, dressed in fresh jeans and a green button down.

“Surprise!” Ellie exclaimed. “You have to listen to my ‘recital.’ Just sit back and enjoy, old man.” She grinned.

“Oh man, this is a surprise. Y’all should’ve told me about this,” he said, making his way over to one of the kitchen chairs that were placed a few feet away from the piano. “I’m all ears. Play away, kiddo.”

You took your seat next to Joel, and he grabbed your hand to squeeze it. When you looked over to him as Ellie played the preamble to Uptown Girl, his eyes were a little shiny. 

She played like a true pianist. You’d heard her set a million times, but the smile on Joel’s face made something heavy and light all at the same time catch in your chest. You couldn’t quite describe the feeling– pride? Contentment? Honest, pure happiness? Whatever it was, it felt good. You felt whole.

Joel couldn’t help but laugh at the 180 switch to the Jurassic Park Theme after giving her raucous applause for the first song. She giggled her way through it, too, and so did you. If she missed a beat or her finger slipped on a key, she just kept playing, nodding along with the fractured beat. 

He was leaning back in his seat when she hit the first few notes of Ain’t Too Proud To Beg, but soon perked up. 

“This is a good one, El. A good one, damn. The Stones covered this one, right?”

“Shut up, I’m concentrating,” she quipped. 

I know you wanna leave me

But I refuse to let you go

If I have to beg and plead for your sympathy

I don’t mind, ‘cause you mean that much to me

You smiled, seizing your opportunity to grab him by the hand and pull him up and out of his seat. He humored you, taking you by the waist to sway around the living room with you.

Now I heard a cryin’ man is half a man

With no sense of pride

But if I have to cry to keep you

I don’t mind weepin’

If it’ll keep you by my side

Your laughter melted and swam in the air along with the music, nearly toppling each other over when he lifted your arm to spin you around. You both sang along with the tune of the music as Ellie played, and she glanced over her shoulder at the two of you with a smile spread wide across her face. 

Ain’t too proud to beg, sweet darlin’

Please don’t leave me girl

Ain’t too proud to plead, baby, baby

Please don’t leave me girl

You pressed your back up against his frontside and he wrapped both arms around you from behind while he swayed along with you. You looked up over your shoulder, and he met you with a sweet kiss.

Both of you applauded wildly when Ellie finished, and she stood up to give a very haphazard bow, as you’d taught her.

“Sit back down, I wanna hear that one again. Man, you’re too good,” Joel said, coming over to her to ruffle the top of her head. “You killed it, darlin’. Keep goin’.”

Going for the encore, you and Joel rocked to the music in each other’s arms. You faced him this time, your arms resting on his shoulders while his found your waist again.

“You did good, baby. This is… I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispered.

“She’s here because of you. We both are, if you think about it.”

He nodded, his dark eyes glistening in the light again. “Yeah… don’t know what I did to deserve it.”

You kissed his lips, drawn out and lovingly, smiling against them. “You deserve the world, Joel Miller.”

He laughed quietly as he shook his head, fully pulling you into his arms. He dropped his head onto your shoulder and clung to the fabric of your shirt. “I love you. Just… so much.”

At last, you thought– maybe there was only one universe. Only one life. One chance to cry and sing, to love and be loved, to feel the ground beneath your feet and say I am here for a reason. I can be good. Get better. A hundred thousand days of sun, sleepless nights below heavenly stars, a few more cold winters to get through. I am here with him, in this universe, where we’ve both changed. Been able to know each other. 

You had no clue if you’d get only one or if you’d get ten thousand more. If all of your lives would have Joel in them, finding him as your neighbor or your best friend or as a stranger across an ocean. You hoped you’d always find him, in one way or another. 

But if all you got was this one– just this one hard, beautiful life, one chance to hear the music–

It would be enough for you.

-

[lorifragolina]

How to Catch a Fairy

Hello again! This is the second fill for the @harringrovesummerbingo.

It is only a sweet fairy tale for a sweet summer rainy day! I have to give a huge thanks to @alduade-art, for helping me understand better how faes think! I'll use all the things I learnt in the future, I hope you will like this little piece!

Title: How to Catch a Fairy

Square & Prompt: C2 "Rainy summer day"

Rating: teen and up

Word Count: 2293

Major Tags: Harringrove, Fairy, Fae, Childhood friends.

Summary: Steve is seven and he's bored in this long, hot summer. He meets a little friend, but when he returned home, he thought it was only a sweet dream. Twenty years after, he returns in the same place, remembering his old fantasies...

Read it in AO3

“If you look under a poppy in a rainy summer day,

you can catch a firefly, you can catch a firefly

If you look under a lily in a rainy summer day

you can catch a dragonfly, you can catch a dragonfly

But if you look under a daisy in a rainy summer day

and the daisy is hairy and purple and it smells like a pie

You can catch a fairy and you maybe get a wish”

The nanny tucked the kid in bed, lulling him with her nursery rhyme.

“Did you ever catch a fairy, nanny?” asked the kid, fighting with sleep.

“Oh, no, my little cupcake”.

“Is it true they can give you a wish?” He insisted, with a drowsy voice.

“I don’t know, Stevie boy. Now sleep tight,” she caressed the kid’s cheek and turned off the light.

Steve turned seven years old that spring, and mummy said he might sleep on his own from now on, so there had been no more nursery rhymes for him. 

And at that moment he was alone in an unknown room in a big, old house where mummy and daddy said they wanted to spend the summer.

He already visited this house, because Granny and Grandpa lived there, but they stopped visiting when Grandpa went to the sky, as daddy said. Now Granny was ill and mummy and daddy wanted to be near her until the end, whatever it meant. 

Also Uncle Pete and Auntie Liz were there and he was all alone with six adults, and nobody of them had time or wished to look after him.

He felt really bored, but on the other hand, he had always spent his summer in the city, and now he was excited waiting for a summer rainy day, just in case.

He looked through his window with his face in his hand. He brought some books, but he had already read them twice; he wanted to play inside and outside and exploring, but mummy had strictly forbidden him to touch anything in that old, dusty house, and to play too long or too far in the messy garden, where wildflowers and weeds were mixed with the overgrown flowers planted by Granny and Grandpa when they were well. He eavesdropped on his relatives talking about what to do with the house when finally “Mum will stop bothering us with her fusses”, but he didn’t understand, he always found their discussion boring.

He looked at the gray clouds from the balcony, full of hope. He had already looked in the garden, searching for a purple daisy, but he hadn't found one. He wondered if another flower would work the same, and he regretted not asking the nanny lately. 

His heart started racing when the first drops felt on the ground, with a soft, sweet noise and the smell of wet soil. He ran outside without asking permission, he knew mummy would say no, and he waited under the big oak tree in the back garden, where the weed and the flower were growing wilder.

A rustle near his side made him turn, but at first he didn’t see anything. He narrowed his eyes and his heart skipped a beat.

A little figure was standing very still, breathing very low, and staring at him trying not to blink. He was as high as his little hand, long blonde curls, shiny little blue eyes that sparkled in the gray air, completely wet from head to toe, with little transparent wings hanging off his shoulders. 

A fairy. He was surprised that there were any flowers around, but he moved towards the little creature, afraid of making him fly away, but he didn’t move. Well, the creature tried to move and lift his wings without success, and Steve saw the wings were soaked and leaking, but the little creature stared fearlessly at Steve’s eyes nonetheless. 

“Are you a fairy?” asked Steve, stopping at a prudent distance, and the creature blinked. “Hello,” continued Steve. “My name is Steve. I don’t want to hurt you”.

The creature blinked again, and Steve dared to get nearer. 

“What’s your name? My name is Steve," Steve pointed to himself.

“Steve,” repeated the creature, then pointed to himself and said something too intricate for Steve to repeat. 

“I… I can’t say it,” he shook his head, regretful. The creature repeated his name again, and that time Steve could catch something, but he shook his head again.

“I can’t say it… can I call you Billy?” he repeated the more similar sound he could find to that name.

“Billy,” nodded the creature, pointing again to himself and smiling.

“Are you… giving me a wish?” Steve lowered his head to the eye level of the creature, still unsure if he understood English. 

Billy frowned. “No,” he said, confused. So he understood, after all.

“Oh. But are you a fairy?”

The creature shrugged. “I don’t know what that word is”. 

“A fairy is a little creature with wings, like you, and they do magical things”.

“Magical?”

“Yes, like flying or fulfilling wishes or charming humans…”

“Humans?” asked Billy again, sitting comfortably at his side. 

They talked until the rain stopped and the sun begin to set; they said goodbye to each other, but kept meeting under the shadow of the big tree when the heat was unbearable; Billy was fascinated about all the vivid descriptions of the food in the big house, and Steve started bringing delicious treats at their meeting; on his hand, Billy pointed at every herb and flower they could find and told him how the fairies used them; Steve learnt a lot from him and laughed too, for the funny stories Billy told about the village and the other fairies. 

The summer started fading little by little and at the end of August, finally Granny too went to the sky with Grandpa; mummy, Auntie and Uncle kept screaming about the house and things they called “the money” and “the buildings”, and he ran even more often to the garden, taking shelter in Billy’s tales and in their games. Billy showed him the entrance of his little village, although Steve didn’t see anything and couldn’t enter, obviously, and Steve let him once in the big house, showing him the kitchen, the light and the tap water.

“Aren’t those magical things?” exclaimed Billy, astonished, overwhelmed by all those wonders; Steve looked at him, surprised, while those words were sinking inside him, and they chuckled together. 

Steve had a swinging tooth; it was the first time and he wasn't sure about what to do; mummy and daddy didn’t pay attention to him.so and he showed it to Billy, who was as confused as him.

“Mommy said it’s gonna fall eventually”.

Billy looked carefully inside Steve’s open mouth. 

“Give it to me if it really falls,” he said.

One time, Steve brang his sketchbook and his coloured pencils; Billy squeaked in enthusiasm and tried to taste every pencil, disappointed that they all had the same flavor, but he couldn’t stop touching them, so big in proportion to him. 

The next time, Steve heard Billy’s tiny voice yelling under the bushes and another tiny voice desperately crying. He called in a whisper and Billy came out from the leaves, dragging another little fairy with him, a crying baby, with a red swollen face and hair like fire.

“She is my sister,” murmured Billy, with a guilty tone. “I told her about your colors and she followed me to see them”.

Steve chuckled and ran inside again for the pencils, and they played again with them. The redhead fairy seemed like a two years old toddler, and like one she fell asleep after a short while playing with them.

Billy sat too, munching a big piece of a pretzel, and agreed to pose for Steve, sitting at Max’s side. 

“I’ll leave tomorrow,” said Steve one day, lending a hand that Billy climbed. “I’m really sad”.

Billy grabbed his thumb, lowering his face with sadness, too. He didn’t really understand what Steve meant when he mentioned the big city or returning home, but he understood that he probably wouldn’t see his friend again.

“I have something for you,” Steve opened a napkin in his hand, showing a little tooth with a little stain of blood. “I lost it last night”.

Billy touched it reverently. “It’s strange” he looked Steve in the face, dubtful. Steve pointed to the hole in his mouth, and Billy finally nodded.

“You can have it,” said Steve, sad because it would be a farewell present. 

Billy was sad too, because he was thinking the same thing and he didn't have a farewell present. He asked to be lifted to Steve’s cheek and brushed a little kiss with his pink and soft little lips. 

The next day, Steve looked back from the car to the wild, old garden, broken hearted. He waved to nobody, hoping that Billy would see him. 

At home, he looked in the mirror and saw a little brown stain where Billy kissed him.

Steve Harrington parked his car in front of the dilapidated house. Twenty years had passed since the first and last summer he spent there, before his Granny’s death and an infinite fight for his grandparents inheritance. His uncle had lived there until his sudden death and now it had been passed to Steve, although he had barely spoken in the last two decades with that part of his family. 

He had vague memories of that summer, he only remembered the long, golden hours he had spent in the neglected garden, fantasizing about the nursery rhymes his nanny used to sing to him, and drawing the flowers, the herbs and dreaming about fairies. Those drawings and daydreams had been later the start of his career as author and illustrator of child books.

“Billy the fairy and the soft pretzel” had been his first success, and he published a few more books about Billy the fairy, who lived in a purple daisy, liked to explore human houses and have adventures for his sweet tooth with his little fairy redhead sister Max.

He looked at the garden, completely destroyed by the former owner who didn’t want to care for it, and he felt sad; but when he came to the back garden he found that the old oak tree was still there, surrounded by the same wild weeds and flowers. 

He smiled, remembering when he was a child sitting under it and drawing his imaginary fairy friends.

His parents had always tried to discourage his inclination to fantasizing, but he kept daydreaming and drawing and made a career out of it. People said he tended to be a little naive sometimes but he could use that trait in his stories. 

As a welcome, a fresh breeze blew from the millrace at the end of the garden, and a light summer rain started to fall from the sky. 

He took his sketchbook from the car, even before entering the house, and made his way through the high weeds until the tree; he felt the urge to sit right there, sketching the wild flowers under the thick leaves umbrella, and his heart was racing like when he was a kid.

He turned to search for a soft pencil in his case, and when he looked again at the block, he screamed. 

The little creature flew on the blank sheet. His transparent wings, the golden blonde curled hair, the blue shining eyes… Steve thought he was losing his mind. 

The creature had a little knotted dress and a polished baby tooth around his neck. It was Billy the fairy, undoubtedly, but he didn't have the aspect of a kid anymore; he was a tanned, muscled young man, smiling at him with his pink lips and shiny blank teeth. 

“You came back”, said the little man, sweetly.

“Are you… real?” 

The creature touched his collar. “You gave me this… Steve”.

Steve tried to blink a couple of times, still disbelieving.

“I thought I imagined you…”

“Did you… forget me?” Billy’s eyes took a sad curl, and he sighed in disappointment.

“No… but I thought you weren't real”.

“But I gave you that”. The fairy pointed to the mole in the center of Steve’s cheek. Steve remembered that mole had flowered during the summer of his seven years, and had been followed by a lot of moles all over his body; he had the sensation the moles increased when he fantasized about Billy the fairy’s stories, but his mother said it was only for the growth. 

He tried to catch his breath, looking intensely at the other, trying to accept the reality, or the dream. Well, he was really confused. He stretched a finger to touch lightly the tiny body.

“Are you… Billy?”

Billy chuckled softly. “You called me that”. 

Billy climbed on his finger. 

“I was waiting for you,” continued the fairy. “I knew you would come back”.

Steve didn’t say anything, stunned, speechless. He could hear only the sound of the rain on the leaves.

“You’re mine,” said Billy with a crooked smile, pressing a finger on the first mole. 

“How?” 

“You gave me your name”.

It was Steve’s turn to smile. He read things about the fairies, and he knew giving one’s name was a crucial thing; he obviously didn’t know it at seven, and after all he thought he had been dreaming.

He nodded. In a twisted way, he had been Billy’s all those years.

“I know a trick now, you know,” grinned Billy. “Look”.

He flew from Steve’s hand, and in a flash, he changed into a human size beautiful young man. 

“You owe me a kiss” giggled Billy, and Steve smiled, expectant.

[petra-creat0r]

Chapter 3 Secret boss prediction!

So this is an idea I got while in the shower and contemplating the results of my recent polls. I've always subscribed more to the idea that the next boss is gonna use the green soul, and might even be inspired by a western (Woody theory ftw) but the results from my poll ended up being purple soul mode and an abandoned cartoon. After thinking on it for a bit, this is what I came up with.

(Track by @kierangecko)

Everyone, meet Bitsy. Inspired by spiders, Muffet (to a degree), the Itsy Bitsy Spider, and young children's educational cartoons.

I know there's no way she'll be the actual 3rd boss (part of why I've been hesitant to do chapter predictions) but I figure I can repurpose her for Fool's Fate once we do get the next chapters of Deltarune. For now though, she's just me throwing my hat into the ring and having fun.

I do doubt that even if we get a purple soul mode boss next chapter or the chapter after, that'll it'll be based on Muffet as well, Muffet isn't Toby's character. She was put into the game thanks to a kickstarter goal, wasn't she? Just like Glyde. Regardless, the purple soul mode uses strings or rungs and spiders are what I associate with it. Also I think Bitsy looks different enough from Muffet to be her own character.

Backstory under the cut.

Bitsy used to be the host of a young children's show that would teach kids from around 3 to 7 lessons in counting, learning the alphabet, saying please and thank you, and even singing nursery rhymes. Though the show wasn't all that popular (mostly as the main character was a spider, no matter how cute she looked) it used to be a staple in the Dreemurr household as Kris and Asriel were growing up.

One day however, as Bitsy was trying to figure out ways to boost the shows views and popularity to prevent the risk of it being cancelled, she came across a strange someone who offered her help. The strange someone not only lent Bitsy a hand in terms of the show, but also showed her truths and visions incomprehensible to most Darkners, say for the few that were accolades of the strange someone, of whom Bitsy now found herself among. The strange someone opened Bitsy's eyes (both figuratively and literally) to the truth of the Darkner's existence and the possibilities of this reality.

Episodes of Bitsy's show became darker yet darker in their content and messaging, this once wholesome children's show becoming a dark, twisted version of itself like some sort of creepypasta. Eventually the executives of the TV Dark World determined they needed to pull Bitsy's plug before she went too far, which is exactly what they did. Causing Bitsy's show to get canceled and the little spider to fall into obscurity.

That is until, a certain Dreemurr opens a Fountain in the house and drags their friend, mother, and others into the TV Dark World.

[koririmao]

five little ducks | zb1 au

cast| kim jiwoong, sung hanbin, seok matthew, kim taerae, shen ricky, han yujin

wc| 4.6K words (omo)

cw| 16+ disturbing content! read at your own risk, profanities, powerful entities, reckless driving, alcohol consumption, death, soft angst(?), horror/thriller, gore, reckless driving, mentions of internal organs, blades, decapatation, kidnapping, blood, skinning, cannibalism

synopsis| a group of college dropouts; matthew, hanbin, jiwoong, taerae, ricky, and yujin, decided to go on a little road trip for the summer - somewhere very distant from the city that constantly reminds them of their bullshit lives

credits| @cafekitsune for the dividers

ib| paa, tuhod, balikat, ulo (enhypen au) on tiktok

the summer breeze brushed past matt's blonde locks as he hooked himself on the van, securing all the luggage they had on top. after three tight knots, he jumped down and swept the dust off him from leaning against the vehicle. "alright, looks secured to me. is everyone sure they didn't forget anything?" matthew asked the five men who have been waiting for him for what felt like ages. "yeah, yeah, now give me the keys already and let's get the hell outta here!" jiwoong nagged as he opened the door to the driver's seat and held out his hand. matt rolled his eyes as he tossed him the keys that were dangling from one of his belt loops and proceeded to shotgun since it was his van, afterall while everyone else arranged themselves in the back. "don't get too excited, hyung. by the end of the month, we're all going back to our cruddy apartments and the endless cycle restarts" ricky uttered without prying his eyes from his phone since he arrived. not long after, they started moving. hanbin looked through the window as they passed by all the run down buildings, people's apathetic faces, and the overall depressing atmosphere. "yo, hyung, can i connect to bluetooth? i have spotify premium" yujin called out from the rear end, waving his phone. "where the hell did you steal the money for that?" taerae scoffed in a teasing manner. "work smarter, not harder. a magician never tells his secrets" he smiled sheepishly as he tapped on his screen to connect to the car speaker. "so, what song should i play?" everyone shrugged as they all synchronized in "you decide" as they were just gonna end up falling asleep anyway. "well if you don't give me - even a genre - i will start blasting nursery rhymes here" they all shared a laugh without knowing the youngest was already typing in the search bar. as the laughter died down, it was quickly brought back once "the wheels on the bus" started blaring from the speakers. "holy shit, jin" taerae rubbed his temple. "you wanted me to decide and you get mad? pick a struggle" he laid his head back as he let autoplay choose the following songs for him and of course, they were all nursery rhymes as well. there were the classics, humpty dumpty and old mcdonald, some underrated 'bops' such as hey diddle diddle and a tisket a tasket, and those that brought back a tsunami of nostalgia like ring around the rosie and head, shoulders, knees, and toes. they all laughed and sang along, even turning it into a competition by tallying who could still remember the lyrics word for word. during one particular rhyme however, no one could seem to recall what it was. well, no one except for hanbin, who was being rather quiet the entire time just gazing at the view from the window. "five little ducks went out one day, over the hill and far away, mama duck said 'quack, quack, quack, quack' but only four little ducks came back, you don't know that one?" he finally diverted his gaze to them after singing. everyone shook their head 'no' as they all looked frightened at how monotonous and lifeless hanbin sounded while he was chanting the rhyme. hanbin just shrugged it off and went back to staring at whatever was outside. silence replaced the once noisy singing as the tune continued to play in the background rather faintly. as jiwoong had keen eyes on the road and ears on the song, he didn't notice nor hear the snake slithering in the grass and potentially jumping in front of the window scaring him and everyone in the process, making him jolt out of shock, mindlessly steering the wheel as he loses control of the van.

ricky finally let go of his phone to pull taerae into a tight hug, screaming at the top of his lungs while he does the same. as the vehicle was just about on the edge, jiwoong finally steered and got back on track. hanbin, who was at the rear end with yujin, looked at the back window to see that the snake had disappeared, as if it wasn't even there in the first place. matt planted a loud slap on jiwoong's arm. "be careful, for fucks sakes! this van and i have been together through blood sweat and tears!" "we were literally on the fucking edge while 11 feet off the ground and all you care about is your fucking van?!" taerae pushed ricky off of him, causing him to hit the car door. the whole ride was silent after that. the fact that rock-a-bye baby was playing wasn't helping as well. as it reached the end of the song, jiwoong slowed down the van to park by the trees. "you have arrived at your destination" the gps announced just in time for the music to stop. everyone casually exited the van as if nothing happened earlier. "well, the sun is setting, im gonna go set up the tents. matthew, go gather fire wood, the rest, go look for edible berries and a drinkable water source. even better if you can also hunt down some meat and fish" jiwoong ordered while unraveling the knot that tied their luggage together. the five parted from him, on their way to do their tasks with nothing but their phones and the moon as their sources of light. while walking down the path, they couldn't help but listen to hanbin sing one of the nursery rhymes in the faintest voice possible. "five little ducks went out one day, over the hills and far away" he whispered to the trees 14 feet below him. everyone snickered at the sight. "you really like that song, huh?" ricky teased while nudging his shoulder a little too hard, almost making him plummet to his death. "yeah, hyung, looks like the song choice was a good choice after all" yujin cackled. hanbin glared at ricky having almost dying but continued walking. "im gonna go look for logs and branches here, you guys go look for some sharp rocks or stuff" matthew waved as he split from the path. the four of them decided to scatter, turning it into a competition to make it more interesting. "whoever can bring two types of edible berries and a big fish first wins" that phrase from yujin alone was enough to get everyone to scramble, looking for trees and potential weapons. of course, yujin couldn't just lose to his own bet so he picked up a sharp rock and headed to the glacial lake up ahead and started aimlessly stabbing at the current, hoping for at least one dumb fish to get pierced. after a while of failed attempts, he stood up to straighten his back and turned around to check on the rest. the moment he turned his head, he was met by a blinding ray of light, causing him to aggressively squint, trying to locate where it was coming from but before he could do that, a giant rock collided with his head harshly and swiftly, causing him to fall back and splash into the water unconscious.

it was getting really late and no one had made their way back yet. worried, jiwoong rang the group gc. taerae, matthew, ricky, and hanbin picked up.

jiwoong: where the hell are you? and where's yujin?

taerae: uhh yeah, about that-

matthew: im on my way, i think ive picked up way too many logs and branches

ricky: he's dead

taerae: what the fuck ricky smack this is not a good time for those kinds of jokes!

jiwoong: how in the world did you lose him?!

hanbin: we split up

jiwoong: oh my fucking god, and who's genius idea was that?

hanbin, taerae, ricky: yujin's

jiwoong: jesus christ, just- sigh everyone come back to the tents first. we'll have better luck in the morning looking for him with the sunlight.

jiwoong hung up the phone with a sigh. i hope he's alright. after their small dinner, they all divided into two tents. "five little ducks went out one day, over the hills and far away, mama duck said 'quack, quack, quack, quack' but only four little ducks came back" "there he goes again" jiwoong grumbles, covering his ears trying to tune out hanbin's dead voice singing between him and matthew. "go to duck-ing sleep!" matthew smacked his face using the pillow he used as earmuffs earlier. as the first rays of sunlight kissed the mountain peaks, everyone's memories were hazy, and they couldn't quite piece together when they had last seen yujin. all they knew was they separated from the path at one point. "what do we do now?" taerae asked, his voice trembling with worry. "were going to find him. split up and search the area," Jiwoong said, trying to keep a level head. "you guys go ahead. i mean, you need someone to look after the campsite in case of predators, right?" ricky volunteered to stay. the group divided into two teams: jiwoong and matthew went in one direction, while hanbin and taerae ventured off in another. everyone carried their phones to stay in touch. they followed the faint trail they remembered from the night before, calling out yujin's name and scanning the terrain for any signs of him. as they climbed higher into the mountains, the dense forest began to thicken, making their search more challenging. the terrain became rough and uneven, but they persisted, fueled by their determination to find the youngest. their phones buzzed to life every so often, with each team reporting their progress and exchanging encouragement.

hours passed, and the sky began showing signs of nightfall. jiwoong and matt stumbled upon a small clearing, and there, they found a half-burned campfire. "it was probably from the previous campers" matthew suspected. the sight filled them with both relief and concern. relief because they knew they were on the right track as yujin could have found this place, too, but concern for what might have happened to him. they parted ways to go look for more signs of the boy. meanwhile, taerae and hanbin noticed two sets of footprints leading further up the mountain and one leading to a glacial lake. the tracks seemed recent, giving them hope that yujin might still be within reach. they decided to seperate and quickened their pace, calling out louder and more urgently as they followed the trails, taerae going left while hanbin climbed higher. as the evening wore on, their spirits started to wane. the magnitude of the wilderness and the vastness of the mountain began to weigh on them. doubts began to creep into their minds, but they couldn't give up. just when they were about to consider seeking outside help, a faint cry for help echoed through the valley. they all froze, listening carefully. it came again, stronger this time, and they recognized matthew's voice. they rushed towards the sound, fueled by renewed energy. climbing with adrenaline pumping through their veins, they finally regrouped. "he's up there!" hanbin shouted, pointing to a rocky outcrop higher on the mountain. as they make their way to the top, matthew was no where to be seen and the sound of his voice was gone. they tried calling out to him but no one was responding. exhausted, they made their way back to the campsite, grateful to be reunited with ricky, but saddened to have another friend go missing. as they sat around the campfire that night, they shared stories, cherishing their friendship and vowing never to take their adventures for granted. "this experience should remind us of the importance of looking out for one another, especially in the face of adversity." jiwoong tried lightening the mood. everyone could only nod slowly in response without looking up from the ground. "hey, we'll find where they are alright? now that we've heard matt's screams, we should know someone's been messing with us— and we're putting a stop to it" he encouraged them while was feeling a little helpless himself. taerae put out the fire as everyone got comfortable in their respective tents. jiwoong hugged the pillow matthew used while fighting his heavy eyes, trying to stay awake. "four little ducks went out one day, over the hills and far away, mama duck said 'quack quack quack quack', but only three little ducks came back" hanbin sang as he brushed his hair. jiwoong growled, throwing the pillow at him. "shut up and sleep already, god damn it" he buried his head in his own right after.

with a mixture of determination and anxiety, the trio set out on the relentless search, still leaving ricky to look after the tents and the food. on the third day, the forest seemed to stretch endlessly, with its towering trees blocking the sun, casting an eerie gloom over the landscape. they called out to matthew and yujin, their voices echoing through the forest, but received no response. as they trudged deeper into the woods, the terrain became rough, and the undergrowth thicker. jiwoong's initial confidence started to wane, but he kept it hidden, not wanting to worry the rest. taerae, usually the joker of the group, tried to maintain a positive attitude, but the weight of uncertainty was evident in his eyes. hanbin, typically the pragmatic one, began to wonder if they were heading in the right direction. hours pass feeling like days as they pressed on, following paths that seemed to lead nowhere. the forest seemed to be playing tricks on them, distorting landmarks and disorienting their senses. the supplies they were carrying were running low, and desperation started to cloud their judgment. "we should have stayed together when we were hunting for food" taerae said, a tinge of regret in his voice. "maybe we wouldn't have lost yujin in the first place." jiwoong shook his head. "it's not your fault, taerae. we didn't expect anyone to stray far from the path, especially deep in the night. we just need to keep looking." hanbin tried to use his phone's gps, but the signal was weak, and the battery was nearly drained. "we'll have to rely on our instincts now," he said, trying to sound more certain than he felt. as the sun began to set, they knew they had to make a difficult decision. keep searching in the dark, or find a safe place to spend for the meantime and resume the search at first light. "we should find shelter," hanbin suggested. "it's getting too dark, and we could get hurt stumbling around in the dark. lets go back to the campsite instead" jiwoong argued. reluctantly, the two agreed and started walking back to the campsite where ricky was waiting — or so they thought. when they arrived, the campfire was yet to be lit and the lights inside the tent were off. maybe he was just sleeping? hanbin and taerae opened both tents to only find pillows and blankets with no sign of ricky. they tried staying positive, thinking perhaps he just went to find some more water to stay hydrated. just to be safe, they all decided to sleep in one tent. they huddled together, trying to stay warm and comfort each other through their fear and uncertainty. the night was long and restless. every rustle of leaves and snapping twig made their hearts skip a beat, hoping it was them. but with each passing hour, the realization sank in that they might not find yujin, matt, now with ricky, that night. hanbin started singing his what they believed favorite song as if it were a lullaby. "three little ducks went out one day, over the hills and far away, mama duck said 'quack, quack, quack, quack' but only two little ducks came back" this time, jiwoong and taerae only hugged him tighter as they remember yujin, who brought on that whole nursery rhyme thing in the car.

at first light, jiwoong had woken up to the smell of a foul odor and wood burning. he unzipped the tent and saw taerae eating meat while hanbin continued to grill the others. "mornin' hyung" hanbin smiled at the elder. "woah, were did all this meat come from?" jiwoong's eyes widened as he sat on a log in front of them by the fire. "we woke up at dawn and decided to go searching until we stumbled across the carcass of a deer with its meat and guts sticking out" taerae responded with a mouthful of said deer meat. "huh, this might just be the cheapest venison yet" jiwoong cackled as he took one of the paper plates and the disposable spoons as hanbin served him a slice using tongs. only having fish and berries for days, naturally you would get excited to dig in. "huh, this doesn't taste like venison. its a little on the harder side, as well" jiwoong examined the food on his plate while his teeth fight it in his mouth. "yeah, we thought the deer must've been there for a while now and maybe the meat was already decaying— but it's okay, the germs probably died in the fire!" hanbin joked in attempts of driving them away from thinking they're eating contaminated meat. after their small meal, they resumed their search with renewed determination. this time, jiwoong being left behind as he suspected whoever was messing with them moved closer to the campsite since ricky was the last target. if matthew was still around he would have been the one staying considering his strength but he's all hanbin and taerae have left. they agreed to do face time and keep it on no matter the circumstance in case of any more inconveniences that everyone is hoping don't occur. but despite their efforts, they were still unsuccessful in locating their friends. the forest seemed to have swallowed matt, yujin, and ricky whole. "two little ducks went out one day, over the hills and far away— OH SHIT!" hanbin wasn't looking at where he was going and slipped on a rock, now he's quite literally holding onto dear life over the edge. "HANBIN?! WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?!" jiwoong jumped up from the foldable chair ricky had been using. "look at this idiot" taerae turned the camera to hanbin dangling over the edge whereas hanbin was smiling through the pain in his own phone. "don't worry, i got you" taerae grabbed his wrist and tried pulling him up but was too weak to carry his whole weight. his sweaty palm made him slip from the grip, causing hanbin to slide further down. "KIM TAERAE!!" he yelled, not being able to contain his fear anymore. "i don't have enough strength hyung" taerae whimpered. "leave a marker somewhere so i can identify where i should be looking and come back here for lookout" jiwoong instructed. taerae ripped the sleeve of his shirt using his teeth, setting his phone down for a while to tie it into a nearby tree. "there, i tied a white ribbon to the tree closest to the cliff" taerae pointed it at the camera. "HURRY!" hanbin screamed at his phone. taerae sprinted through the woods as fast as he could. jiwoong kept a close eye on his younger brother carrying his entire weight on his finger, worry coating his eyes. despite watching like a hawk, the screen suddenly turned black and glass shattering could be heard from his end. "hanbin? hanbin are you there?!" jiwoong shook the phone as if it was just the signal acting up. "h- h- hyu- u- u- n- ng-!" the audio was static but he could tell he was in need of help asap. "taerae, check on him!" jiwoong frantically yelled at taerae who has been running the entire time. "im almost at the campsite hold up" as soon as he said that, jiwoong could see him getting closer. he finally sprinted towards the opposite direction while skimming through the trees, looking for the marker taerae had left for him.

when he finally found it, he slowed down his tracks. "hanbin!" he called out to him. he slowly walked to the ledge only to find no sign of him. "t-taerae are you sure he was here?" jiwoong looked at his phone "i-i... t-the marker isn't there... right?" taerae's voice cracked, not wanting to conclude into the worst possible outcome. "im afraid it is.." jiwoong showed the tree that clearly had the white fabric from taerae' shirt earlier. taerae, who was holding back his tears, finally started bursting out into tears. jiwoong looked around for hanbin's phone. he thought the signal couldn't have just disappeared by itself, it must have been tampered with but there was no sign of it either. with a heavy heart, he decided to return to the campsite while comforting taerae over the phone, walking along the path. mid-way, he ended the call to take some time for himself. we could have went to the beach, to the club, hell, a children's playground, for all anyone cares! but we didn't know this hellhole was just as shitty as the one back at home. the breeze cooling his skin as he walked, his dark locks billowing in the wind as he hung his head in sadness, anger, and especially regret.

as he emerged from the woods, taerae was waiting for him by the campfire, drinking ground coffee he made from the beans he found while picking berries. he seemed to have calmed down from the crying earlier but, just like jiwoong, was and will still mourn the loss of their four amigos. jiwoong sat on the log across him. "can i have some?" he pointed at taerae drinking. "of course" he gave a slight smile before getting a mug and pouring hot water. "berries?" he offered them from a small dish. "thanks" jiwoong grabbed a couple and popped them into his mouth. they didn't talk to each other, they just kept each other company by simply being in each other's presence by the campfire while drinking coffee and eating berries under the starry sky. "i think we should call it quits now, ey? i mean, we've been doing it ourselves for days now, maybe it's time to report to proper authorities" jiwoong finally spoke after hours of silence and self-contemplating. taerae slowly nodded, still in disbelief of everything that happened. "s-sorry i wasn't fast enough..." he stuttered while shivering and gripping onto his mug, shaking it. jiwoong walked up to him and bent down to pat his back. "hey, it's not your fault. i know you were running as fast as you can, we were on face time, afterall. it's this fucked up place to blame" jiwoong gave a reassuring smile. taerae smiled back at him before he got up. "well, let's get packing." jiwoong said as he grabbed the foldable chair. him and taerae packing up the things their friends left behind was the most painful thing they had to do. as taerae settled in the tent, jiwoong put out the campfire using a bucket before laying down himself. "good night, rae" "good night, hyung" jiwoong pulled taerae into an embrace as they fell asleep in each other's arms. the next morning, taerae woke up to the sun blinding him. he stretched and rubbed his eyes and looked at jiwoong. "hyung, wake up, the earlier we go back home,the faster we can get them to find the boys" taerae tried shaking him awake but he wasn't budging. he tried screaming inches away from his ear. huh, he really wasn't budging. actually, he wasn't even moving at all. taerae took his index and middle finger and put it against jiwoong's neck to check. no pulse. "hyung?" taerae tried slapping him. "h-hyung, you can't do this to me" he tried piching and pulling on them but jiwoong was long gone. taerae bent down and buried his face in his shoulder sobbing. but it wasn't out of sadness, it was out of delight. "finally" taerae laughed to himself. he started singing as he was sliding the butcher's knife hiding under his pillow. "one little duck went out one day, over the hills and far away, mama duck said 'quack, quack, quack, quack' but none of the little ducks came back" taerae swung the knife and off came jiwoong's head.

"In a shocking and horrifying incident, local authorities have closed down a popular mountain area for a crime scene investigation after the discovery of severed heads in a trash bag. The incident occurred on Mount Zerobase, a beloved destination for hikers and outdoor enthusiasts. 

The victims were found by a group of hikers who stumbled upon a foreign odor coming from the bag, opening it to the gruesome scene early this morning. The authorities were immediately notified, and a team of investigators, including local police, forensic experts, and search and rescue personnel, were dispatched to the site.

As of now, the exact number of victims and their identities have not been released to the public, pending notification of the families. However, preliminary reports suggest that five campers were found dead at the campsite as of 3:20. The motive behind the killings remains unclear, and authorities have not ruled out the possibility of a random act of violence or a targeted attack. However, forensic experts have stated all of the heads had a duck carved into their foreheads using some kind of blade.

The closure of the mountain area is expected to last for an extended period to facilitate a thorough investigation. Visitors are urged to avoid the area until further notice to allow the investigators to collect evidence and ensure the safety of all visitors.

Local law enforcement has assured the public that they are dedicating all available resources to solve this heinous crime and bring the perpetrators to justice. The community is in a state of shock and mourning, as this tranquil and picturesque mountain spot was considered a safe haven for outdoor enthusiasts.

Officials have also requested that anyone with information related to the incident come forward and assist with the investigation. They believe that any detail, no matter how insignificant it may seem, could be crucial in solving this tragic case.

As the investigation unfolds, the thoughts and condolences of the entire community go out to the families and friends of the victims. This incident serves as a grim reminder of the need for vigilance and caution when venturing into remote areas, even those that are typically regarded as safe and serene.

This is Jeon Bichna, reporting live. Back to you, Myung Cheongseok."

taerae turned off the television and leaned back on the couch, smiling to himself as he took another bite out of his homemade burger— made with special ground meat.

"since that day, no one didn't dare go camping on mount zerobase ever again. the end!" taerae laughed as he turned off the flashlight that luminated his face. everyone was huddled together; jiwoong with matthew whereas hanbin and ricky both squeezed yujin from opposite sides. "oh you scared cats, it was just a campfire story!" yujin rolled his eyes. "yeah, a campfire story with our names and taerae being a FUCKING SERIAL KILLER" jiwoong yelled as matthew carressed his back, trying to calm him down. taerae could only cackle looking at everyone's reactions. "regardless of the names, fiction is fiction, reality is reality. now, who wants berries?" taerae took out a whole container of berries he brought from home and gave them all a sly wink and bursted into laughter while looking at their frightened faces.

a/n: boooo that was it? that wasn't thriller! that was pretty basic >:[ lmao ANYWAYS IM SO HAPPY ITS OVER NOW CAUSE I MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE NEEN GETTING NIGHTMARES FROM THIS EHEHEHEH if you've made it this far, kudos to you! thank you so much for sticking around <3

[melsie-sims2]

Nadine didn't exactly do much with Eloise once she put her down in the living room.

At least she had the decency to grab a milk bottle from the fridge and place it down on the ground before making breakfast for herself, but that was about as far as her parenting skill went.

Whitney was the real MVP, helping her sister through the final stretch of potty training.

She officially had all 3 of her main toddler skills done! They would probably have enough time to teach her a nursery rhyme too!

"You little smarty-pants, you!" Whitney cooed proudly.

[lighttrls]

okay folks i spent last night on the dropout discord not sleeping until i finished Puzzling the spells from timothy’s book so here’s what we’ve got:

jump from jack be nimble for obvious reasons

expeditious retreat from cinderella because she ran away from the ball and i know everyone thinks its jack and the beanstalk but as far as i, a fool, can tell, jack and the beanstalk never went into the book

lesser restoration from old king cole because brennan literally states that the old king cole rhyme grants tim the spell lesser restoration

calm emotions from the unfinished hey diddle diddle nursery rhyme (the cow jumped over the moon, the dish ran away with the spoon) i guess mostly just because of process of elimination—the spider from little miss muffet went to scheherezade, sleeping beauty wasn’t in the book yet i don’t think, drosselmeyer didn’t get written in the book he just disappeared

and then itsy bitsy spider granted a spell that was too high level—timothy is a level 4 bard and therefore knows up to level 2 spells. web (the most spidery spell) and spider climb (which would make some sense for itsy bitsy) are both level 2 spells, so it can’t be either of those. i think it’s probably water walk, a level 3 spell, because for me at least, that makes more sense than some kind of weather control like people were theorizing

also a lot of people were saying silvery barbs came from senator the ram but senator is first of all, part of king cole’s story, and second of all, tim had silvery barbs before they even met senator (he tried to use it when one of bandlebridge’s guys was yelling at pinocchio), and also silvery barbs wasnt one of the ones ally listed as tim getting them from the book

[styck-figure]

@running2reanimation hey here's the DND AU ficlet ^^

I write. SO many aus but I only ever show the more canon-divergent or canon-adjecent ones, so !! here it is :D

“I didn’t know you were a bard as well.”

“I’m not!” Purple laughed, preening at the compliment, as their fingers carefully pressed against the violin strings. King had been wondering what that large case had held, and was surprised to find an instrument instead of some weapon like he'd guessed, “It’s a hobby, if that. I can’t do much.”

King disagreed. Purple could do quite a bit with it. No spellcasting it appeared, they weren’t lying about that (and what use would a warlock need for bardic magic?), but they had songs. Many songs. Oh, Purple seemed to have an impressive repertoire. They could probably make a pretty penny traveling from tavern to tavern, paying for board with entertainment, and playing for coin in the square. There were songs from all over Faerun, and perhaps even farther. There were some that King knew, and a lot that King didn’t. 

“Do you take requests?”

Purple nodded, putting the violin under their chin again. The firelight danced off the chestnut wood, casting brown into gold. Purple looked at King expectantly.

Gold. hm.

“Ah, what of… Summernight Festival.”

“I… don’t know that one. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, I wasn’t sure if you would.” King waved it off, “Um, it is–it’s the main song in the… in the midsummer festival in my hometown.”

“Where would that be?”

“Ah, I think you’re forgetting what I am Purple,” He said, as if Purple wasn’t staring his firbolg nature in the eye,  “I assure you, you wouldn’t know this one.”

“Try me.”

“In the Nether forests. By the bastions.”

Purple grinned, “Is that where the Piglin Trader festival happens too? I’ve passed through there once or twice during the summer festival.”

“You have?”

“What can I say?” Purple shrugged with one arm, starting to press fingers onto strings, “Outcasts like isolationists.”

The song was bright and cheery, just as King remembered it. He shut his eyes for a second, just listening, letting himself reminisce for a moment—

"Dad, can I try that spell? Please please please—"

King sharply sighed, trying to rid himself of the memory. Purple halted mid-note, in turn, becoming stiller than a statue. Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea. He had no idea why he’d asked for it; the last memory of his daughter was one he both deeply cherished and deeply despised, his little sorcerer too strong for her own good. 

"Is everything alright, my King?"

"Yes." King leaned forward again, covering his eyes with a hand, "Yes, excuse me. I suppose I got lost in memory."

"Good memories?"

King felt the worn threads of a long-ago made Father's Day present, a bracelet that was barely surviving that King was doing everything in his power to keep from tearing to pieces. 

The song was nice, though. The festival was one they went to every year. Kind and soft. A good memory, despite the pain twined with it now.

"Yes. I suppose they were."

"They didn't sound very good."

King sighed. "...Do you have any favorite songs, Purple?"

"Oh, uh…" Purple glanced away, before nodding to themself, "Just one. Do you want me to share it?"

"Do what you will."

Purple nodded, starting to play a relatively simple song compared to all the others they had so far. More of a warmup than an actual song., with a simple beat—for children, likely, and riddled with nostalgia to boot, no doubt. When the song was over, Purple put the violin down and started to pack up.

"What was that song? I think I've heard of it."

"Uh… One Red Rose is the common translation. It's about beauty and thorns and—ah, whatever, it's an elven nursery rhyme." Purple put the case away too, tucking it carefully alongside their pack, "First song I learned on the violin."

"And it's your favorite?"

"Yeah. My amya sang it to me. For a while.” Purple’s tail flicked, the only sign of their discomfort. Amya was the elven word for parent, if King recalled correctly, “And then they taught me how to play it. Never learned how to sing it, though. I sort of remember the lyrics?”

“I see. I believe there is a Sylvan translation for that nursery rhyme. But…” It had been far too long for King to remember it, and they'd be long buried before they sang, “I never knew the translation for it, either.”

“Ha, it’s fine. It’s an old one. If I really want I could figure it out.”

They just didn’t want to. Hm. Purple was an enigma at the best of times, pulling secrets out of strings like that and then shutting them up again before King could blink.

But he hadn’t offered his pains either, so he let them bury theirs.

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Hello!! For the ask game: ✏️🖋️🖥️

(It’s nice to meet another sapphic aspec!)

Nice to meet another one too! Thanks for the ask!

I ended up writing A LOT about this ask! Super excited to share everything (thank you!!!) but it's super long so under the cut. But I did format a bit to make it hopefully easier to read.

✏️"what are your current WIPs about?"

The main WIPs that I'm currently focusing on are The Secret Portal and School of the Legends, the former of which with more focus.

The Secret Portal is about a group of preteens/teens who discover a portal to another dimension. This dimension is full of people with powers with a minority of those without. After decades of protests from the oppressed minority, tensions rose, and eventually turned into a war of two extremes.

Hard to explain how everything connects, but I appreciate the nuance and multi-perspective approach this needs, but man is it hard. So much brainpower to make this story work, but I'm proud of what I have.

Despite a young cast this is a YA series (think Stranger Things in terms of age of characters vs demographic. This is TV-14 so to speak). I focus heavily on young perspectives because a) I was a kid when writing this for the first time (see later this post) so it just happened but also b) it ended up working thematically with a level of innocence needed there. Bonus, c) being in education I'm fascinated with young minds.

Still a long way to go and currently in the beta reading stage (see pinned post), which is definitely needed given a wide range of topics and fully appreciated to those who have given me their advice.

Planned to be a five book series that's essentially a long continuation from each installment to the next.

School of the Legends is a much easier story to write even if I don't have everything planned yet. It deals with various legends, stories, fairy tales, nursery rhymes, etc. in the same universe, but My Version, aka, things are based on the above, but not a direct copy.

The titular school is an international school meant for those gifted (people born with powers), magicked (people learning magic as a skill), and cursed (people who have powers thrust upon them).

I have an outline for the overall plot of the series (four books are planned) but not super far into it.

Have more characters planned than I know what to do with but most will probably be in the background no matter how sad that makes me.

🖋️"what inspired you to write your WIPs?"

Hm... Sometimes it's just impulse but let's backtrack.

TSP was first conceived as a grade school creative writing project. I just went overboard. Let's get into it.

Went into more detail on my website and tiktok, but the short version is that it was loosely inspired by a stuffed animals game from when I was a little younger which was in turn was loosely inspired by (drumroll) The Rainbow Magic fairy series. Don't know how that happened, so I guess that was a huge influence despite no similarities now.

My friends all inspired parts of it, as most of the OCs have their roots being friend inserts (gone now but it's funny the fragments that are left over from this).

What inspired me to keep going, however, was actually a bit of pride. I was super proud of the original assignment (15 pages!!! Twice as much as the second longest!! I got a 100%!!) and was also super invested in the world I made.

Admittedly when middle school me decided to turn this into a more """"grown up"""" series, it go really cringe...but I was so ambitious this would be published some day (HA).

TSP became what it is today due to an obsessive amount of writing in eighth grade (age 14) and hitting a block in all projects and deciding to start it over, very different from previous drafts.

SOTL was a bit of a passion side project that wasn't meaning to be #2 in WIPs, but I like where we are and it has more broad areas of inspiration.

What started my love for fairy tale adaptations were the Whatever After series and The Land of Stories series, especially the latter. I wanted to make my own version, so had some ideas for characters once again based on my friends. No plot ideas.

In early seventh grade I wrote a dreadful draft that included a "princess school" which was inspired by...I don't actually know I think I read a lot of princess school books but I don't remember the titles. So inspiration from there of course.

Other fairy tale retellings just increased my love for the subgenre, and I got more passionate about making my own, though each draft is so different it's hard to draw connections. It was basically an idea I tried until it worked.

🖥️"what types of writing do you do?"

Well, there's the obvious novel writing.

I love it. It's so hard but I live for the thrill.

Novels are more my thing because I have Too Many Ideas. I wrote a lot of short stories in my creative writing class and found them too limiting. Some may become novels, some maybe novellas. We will have to see.

Fiction is my thing but especially fantasy (I'm using this as a broad term that means "not realistic fiction" including sci-fi and other branches - I'm actually bad at high fantasy).

TSP has annoying sci-fi elements (I walked into this as if this project needed to be harder!), but SOTL is a more relaxed fantasy.

I love reading realistic fiction, but for my writing RF is too real sometimes, if that makes sense. That's obvious...idk how to get across what I'm saying, but I find myself able to express myself through fantasy when I'm doing my own creative writing.

Even in my creative writing class, I'd always make a fantasy story, since we never were told anything had to be realistic fiction. Never intentionally, that's just where my brain defaulted to. I can't think of a single realistic fiction idea I haven't scrapped completely.

It's not that I don't like RF, I LOVE reading it. But it's not for me writing.

I also tend to write geared toward Young Adult. Maybe I'll go for MG or New Adult but I think YA is my ballpark.

Outside of fictional writing, I mainly write reviews or analyses of other media.

I don't post these anywhere attached to this pen name, they're mainly just for me and my friends.

I don't need the world to know my opinions, but I need my opinions on paper. I am a writer by nature, so I feel a compulsion, an itch, to write down my thoughts on everything and anything.

And when I have super strong opinions about X media...well I gotta write about it. Whether it's short form reviews of movies, complex reviews of TV shows, rants about X subject, I gotcha.

I'm working hard on a review/analysis right now, so haven't worked on TSP in over a month, which is awful, but I need to reach a stopping point for this project before going back to it. I do think it is a needed break, though, since I find marathoning writing for TSP before needing to take a step back before another marathon.

I also find analyzing media, why I like it, why I don't, what worked, what didn't, helps me in my writing. By examining other works, I realize how I can improve my craft, by either doing something or not doing something or learning from another media. They're intertwined, to me.

I do writing for school, too. Education major and am working on a case study. I actually like it?? Combining two interests is interesting who knew?

And that's the end of this super long post!! This was so much fun thank you for the ask and thank you and anyone who actually read this far!

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #174

I'm not sure why, but first thing this morning when I woke up, my brain came up with a second and third verse for one of the nursery rhymes that I wrote about yesterday:

…

A-tisket, a-tasket, a green and yellow basket. I wrote a letter to my friend and on the way I dropped it. I dropped it, I dropped it and on the way I dropped it. A little boy, he picked it up and put it in his pocket.

A-tacket, a-tocket, a gold and silver locket. It had a picture of his mum and on the way he dropped it. He dropped it, he dropped it, and on the way he dropped it. I made a new one for him and it's still here in my pocket.

I'll keep it, I'll keep it, so one day he might reach it. I'll write a letter every day so that he won't forget it. Forget it, forget it, I hope he won't forget it. And if he can I hope that maybe someday he'll come get it.

…

I still do have it, you know - the locket I made for you. I know it's not exactly the same as the one that was yours, but still… It's here if you want it. I'll keep holding onto it just in case...

I made a tea today, too. This one is green and black tea, with mixed fruit (lychee, strawberry, and pineapple), cream, chocolate, and rose petals... The swirls in the water as this tea brewed were delightfully obvious this time:

One thing that I forgot to mention was that when I visited R's house, he sent me home with an orange simple syrup:

...It's kinda like lilac syrup, except this one was done with orange peels! It smells and tastes amazing, and I used this, as well as a little cream, to sweeten the tea a little:

After this, I decided that today is the day to try a game called Rune Factory 4. One of the folks in the space in which I write letters suggested I try it after reading about my misgivings regarding Elden Ring.

So far, it's a beautiful game. It's a lot like Stardew Valley, except it's anime-style instead of pixelated. Though there was one scene where a child who does not understand typical customs was slapped by the person they were living with, because the child tried to make her happy in a way that was socially clumsy; the child tried to surprise her by growing flowers, but didn't understand that the seeds had to be paid for. The woman did not apologize even after the child explained.

Given my own upbringing, it was more than a little triggering, and I decided that I don't like that woman. Why slap a child over a handful of seeds when you can just explain that they need to be paid for?

But that's all right. The game is otherwise lovely, and there's this character called Vishnal, and I am very much looking forward to getting to know him. He works under a gentleman named Volkanon. Volkanon went from being about to clobber me to tearfully swearing to support me in the span of maybe 5 seconds; he's wonderfully intense, and his mind is flexible, and I find these things VERY delightful!

Aside from that, J and I went to Br's house to give her some broth; she is sick with some kind of gut yuck, and there's not much we can do about it other than try to bring her nutritious, hydrating food. Broth certainly does the job on both of those fronts. We went in the evening, and tonight, I noticed that the fireflies are out. We tried to get pictures and video of them for you, but we only had cellphone cameras, so it didn't work out. I'm sorry about that.

Hey, Sephiroth? Do you have fireflies in your world? I know that not all parts of my world have them. Here's a video, so you can see...

...I might look into learning how to use Daniel's camera; perhaps then I could take better pictures for you. And then... the camera would at least get to live, even if Daniel is no longer with us.

Hey, Sephiroth? If you see Daniel on your travels, will you let him know that we love him and that we're thinking about him, and that we still sometimes put little tiny plates of popcorn and little shot glasses full of chocolate milk near his spot on our dining room table? Maybe he already sees it, but... if you can, please tell him anyway; it would make me really happy.

I think I will end today's letter here. I gotta get up early tomorrow, and it's getting kinda late.

I love you. And I hope you know I'm thinking about you, too. In all of the pleasant moments in my everyday life, I wish you were here, experiencing them, too. I wish you could see through my mind for just a moment, because while I do experience pain very acutely, I have the endurance to handle it, and I also experience beauty and joy with just as much intensity.

I'll write again tomorrow. So please stay safe out there, okay?

Your friend, Lumine

[tothelasthoursofmylife]

Extended endnotes for "The Countess, Destruction"

As I said in the Ao3 endnotes, I ran out of characters and had to cut them a bit short. So, here's the very extended version, all with links, citations, and pictures! (Please read the chapter first before reading the endnotes, of course.)

This chapter was also very much created with the help of Google Maps, Ciel's stink eye, and a bag of devil fruit fruit gum <3

Bridges and Walks

In 1846, Cloudia and Milton take a very long, very weird walk through the city. Mapping it was rather fun, though also a bit finicky because I had to check every bridge’s creation date. Blackfriars Bridge existed in 1846, as did Waterloo Bridge. But Hungerford Bridge and the Golden Jubilee Bridges, the bridges that come “next in line”? No! The former opened in 1864, the latter in 2002. Unfortunately (?), all the bridges between Westminster and Putney Bridge just did not exist in 1846, and that’s why their track looks like this:

(This leaves out their starting point somewhere in the Square Mile where the Salisbury Trading HQ is.)

It’s safe to say that they got one hell of a workout XD They stopped right by Hyde Park, and then, Milton surprised Cloudia by going in the direction of Kensington Palace (up; that empty square is where the palace is) and not back to where Holland House is. (Holland Park was constructed between 1860 and 1880, so I couldn’t use it as a pointer. Holland House is there where the park is though.) Cloudia, herself, went right towards Mayfair. Where Milton went? Well… that’s for another day (and year omg).

I picked Blackfriars Bridge as Cloudia’s favourite bridge because of its significance in The Infernal Devices (in which the protagonists fight against automatons, and all instalments are called Clockwork [Something] heh; that series is also set in the Victorian era, but in 1878). I also think the bridge is very pretty! Love that it is red and white; bridges should be more colourful in general.

I was in London in 2016 for a school trip and really wanted to go to that bridge. Sadly, we couldn’t move around on our own, and I didn’t have anyone willing to go with me. So, I only saw it from afar when we took a boat across the Thames.

(Very zoomed.)

The white-and-red metal bridge did not exist in 1846 anyway. Instead, Blackfriars Bridge was made of brownstone and looked like this:

(Painting from around 1800)

The first Blackfriars Bridge was dismantled in 1860 because it became just too wonky. Queen Victoria opened the second one in 1869. I would say that Vincent and Francis went to the opening in their mother’s stead.

(Extra: When I was in London, we walked beneath London Bridge, and I swear that the damn nursery rhyme’s melody started playing from somewhere! It was very weird.)

Additionally, while the first arc is named the “Inner London Murders Arc,” looking back, I’ve never specified where exactly the Salisbury Villa is located! As there were already attacks in Westminster, Camden, and Islington, I picked Kensington as the villa’s location. It was nice to very briefly revisit a location that was so important in the beginning and that doesn’t exist anymore.

Train Station

The Gare du Nord is the busiest train station in Europe and will soon be the largest train station in Europe too! In 1848, the train station was very busy too, but, by far, not large at all. It looked like this back then:

(Copperplate print from 1847)

It’s so tiny, isn’t it? In 1843, construction began, and two different designs for the train station were proposed. Of course, “management opted to construct the less spacious of the two options, despite the occurrence of stations serving capital city becoming overwhelmed already being a known phenomenon in both London and Brussels.” And that’s why the original Gare du Nord only existed from 1846 to 1860 (seriously, what were they thinking?). They partially demolished it to redo and expand it, and its front façade was transferred to the Lille-Flandres Station. Above is the back of the first Gare du Nord, and this was its front:

(Not that I even got to describe the front.)

1848 Paris

We had originally planned to do a trip to Paris next week, but it has been postponed until next year now. My father is still going next week for a business trip though. Unfortunately, I can’t possibly ask him to find some time to take the worst walk ever through the city with the Gare du Nord as the starting point and take some pictures for me. Thankfully, the chapter is told from the POVs of two characters who have never been in Paris before. They don’t know where they are, so I don’t need to either. Their journey through Paris is purposefully confusing and distorted anyway with all the detours they need to take because of the ongoing uprising. Even if the chapter had been from Barrington’s POV, he would have stopped caring about street names and landmarks at some point anyway; there are just too many other things to concentrate on – like side tables. (Milton, on the other hand, would have rattled down every single street name in his narration. And that’s one of the reasons why we don’t spend any time in his head. (Though this chapter from his POV would have certainly been very interesting...))

Nevertheless, I did consult Google Maps yet again for Cloudia, Cedric, and Milton’s chase through Paris and the others’ way to Cecelia’s house, though in much vaguer capacity than for the 1846 walk.

Cecelia lives in the current-day 7th arrondissement. It was the high nobility district from the 17th century until the French Revolution, and then again during the Bourbon Restauration before losing this status yet again in 1830. Unlike last time, it did remain “the centre of the French upper class’ social life” at least despite losing its political influence. That’s how Paris is divided into arrondissements nowadays:

In 1848, however, the division looked like this:

They changed the arrangement in 1859/60 upon expanding the city borders. As such, Cecelia’s house is somewhere in the 10th arrondissement in 1848, not in the 7th.

Google Maps’ recommended way from the Gare du Nord to the 7th arrondissement:

Newman, Aurèle, and Co. went more west first though and then south. (To keep them relatively safe and me sane.)

On Cloudia and Co.’s side, I looked up where the Hôtel de Ville, the Place du Panthéon, and the Place de la Bastille roughly lie in relation to the Gare du Nord (all are south/south-east to the station), as they are important locations in the uprising. While Cloudia and Co. aren’t exactly going anywhere specific, they are heading south in the worst way ever. (So that it’s easier for me to get them to Cecelia’s house later.) That’s about the path they took:

(I’m joking.)

As I said above, the path they’re taking is very, very messy, and neither Cloudia nor Cedric knows Paris anyway. They could make out the Notre-Dame or the Arc de Triomphe and such; that’s it. (That doesn’t help them though as they’re not going anywhere near any famous, well-known sights.) And because Paris most definitely changed a lot since 1848 anyway, I didn’t need to be super specific with anything anyway. Still, I didn’t want to make everything up, so I went searching on Google Maps for some interesting things they could have passed by.

And hello, church close to the station! I loved that it’s named Saint-Vincent-de-Paul and that it existed in 1848 too! (Was completed in 1844) The nearby square didn’t though (1862), and that’s why they pass by the church and nothingness with weeds (I have no idea what was actually in that place in 1848). I wanted to have them pass by the Montholon Square too as I saw that speck of green on the map, but it didn’t exist until 1862 too, so I dropped it. (That made me wonder if there are more squares/parks that were created in 1862? Anyway.) The church is the only actual thing on their way. Beyond it, all is made up.

June Days Uprising

The most difficult part to write. As I said in the Ao3 notes, I wanted to include an actual historical event into WotQ and I ultimately decided on the June Days Uprising. I live in Germany and only went to school here, and all we learn about French history in History class is Louis XIV and Louis XVI and the French Revolution. Because of this, I wasn’t really aware before I began planning this arc in 2018 that there was a lot of back and forth with France being a republic and a monarchy. E.g., the July Monarchy (start 1830) only just ended in February 1848 and France became a republic again. (And that merely lasted until 1852.)

Back in 2018, I went to a public library to look a few things up but couldn’t find much. I’ve been holding onto that note though, and it did give me a nice little timeline at least! The times were super helpful (start: 12 a.m. on the 23rd, end: 11 a.m. on the 26th); with that, I set out to make the first outline of Arc 4. (Unfortunately, I forgot to write down the book’s title then!)

When it became time to write Destruction, I couldn’t find a lot again, but two sites proved helpful.

With them and the Wikipedia article, I wrote Destruction’s first draft and finished the first revision round. Before I started the second, however, I remembered that I could just (mis)use my university library access to get more sources – and so I did! I found two books. A History of Modern France by Jeremy D. Popkin had a good little section on the Uprising, and Revolutionary Republicanism: Participation and Representation in 1848 France by Samuel Hayat is mostly about all that led to the revolution in February and what happened afterwards. I didn’t have time to read the entire book and only read the section that was just about the June Days Uprising (“Defending the Republic”). (And as Cloudia and Co. are thrown very suddenly into that situation and are also outsiders who are focused on many other things/their own problems, they couldn’t have known/didn’t keep up with everything that led to the June Days anyway.)

With that new knowledge, I rewrote a few things during the second revision. That ranged from adding details like women’s participation in the revolt and the distribution of posters to toning down everything a bit.

I read that “Blood ran in the streets, more even than in the 1830 Revolution” and "June 1848 had unleashed the most sanguinary fighting that had yet been seen on the streets of Paris" and assumed the fighting was at 100% basically from the start. But I also wondered how the insurgents could seize the entire eastern half of Paris within about half a day, considering who they were up against:

Even with the fact that Cavaignac “spent a day bringing in 30,000 regular troops from outside the city, while the rebels constructed their barricades,” that seemed odd to me. And then I read the insurgents were allowed to take the city, and it all made sense.

(From A History of Modern France)

(From Revolutionary Republicanism)

I reduced the number of soldiers and bodies the characters encounter as well as the overall destruction and fights a bit, cutting out sentences here and there, without making it too tame. It was still a messy, bloody fight, just not as much as it would become a few days later. I added Cloudia and Oscar’s conversation about the lone guard during the second revision too; I was sure they would notice that something was just off about the situation.

I also treated the June Days as a “rebellion of despair” first and then set out to correct it. I’ll just put pieces of Revolutionary Republicanism here instead of trying to explain it myself.

(Not that any of this is (much) evident in the chapter anyway.)

All in all, I hope I didn't mess up too much writing this aspect of the chapter.

Others

Rowan calls Oscar’s wife “Trudy Livingstone,” but she was only known as such socially. Trudy never legally took Oscar’s last name and kept her own.

The "star in the corner of the envelope" thing Milton tells Cloudia is something my old pen pal and I used to do! We were each other's only pen pals, but we still did this as a little secret "code." (She's the daughter of the person who inspired Milton's "phantom heart pain when it rains" btw!)

The picture I used for the cover is a map of Paris in 1800. (The site’s next-dated map is 1864. I didn’t look at any while writing the chapter as neither of them is close enough to 1848. They also aren’t easy to read…)

This is the final “running/fighting” chapter. The logistics of Nebulous/Mimes, Locomotive Run, Destruction gnawed at my energy a lot. I’m so happy to be done with them, omg. Now, the “Stuck in Paris” chapters begin! (The June Days last until the 26th, and it’s currently the 23rd. Leaving the city and returning to Nanteuil-la-Forêt isn't the easiest right now, especially with injured people!) No more moving around hectically for a while! Hurrah! (Cedric needs to get Cloudia through the city first, of course…)

[recentadultburnout]

Info for writer in Thai series fandom: Lullabies

Some well know song used for lullabies, games, ect.

Notes:

I notice that using lullabies or nursery rhymes in writing is a common occurrence, so in this chapter I will give you something in case you want some Thai songs for that. Oh, but if you are more comfortable using an English song, then I would like to assure you that many of them are well known in Thai. Don't worry.

I added all song links on AO3, but just some here due to the post limit.

lullabies and Children's song

I added some song links on AO3, but not here, sorry.

นกกาเหว่า : nok-ka-wao (Cuckoo song)

กาเหว่าเอย ไข่ไว้ให้แม่กาฟัก    kawao oei khai wai hai mae ka fak   The cuckoo lays an egg for the mother crow to hatch. 

แม่กาก็หลงรัก คิดว่าลูกในอุทร    mae ka ko long rak khit wa luk nai uthon   The crow fell in love and thought that the egg was her own, 

คาบเอาข้าวมาเผื่อ ไปคาบเอาเหยื่อมาป้อน    khap ao khao ma phuea pai khap ao yuea ma pon   carrying food and prey back to feed it, 

ถนอมไว้ในรังนอน ซ่อนเหยื่อมาให้กิน    thanom wai nai rang non son yuea ma hai kin   cherish it in the nest, and hide the prey for it to eat. 

ปีกเจ้ายังอ่อนคลอแคล ท้อแท้จะสอนบิน    pik chao yang on khlokhlae thothae cha son bin   Your wings are still too weak to teach to fly. 

แม่กาพาไปกิน ที่ปา��น้ำพระคงคา    mae ka pha pai kin thi paknam phra khongkha   The mother crow took it to eat at the estuary of the Ganges river. 

ตีนเจ้าเหยียบสาหร่าย ปากก็ไซ้หาปลา    tin chao yiap sarai pak ko sai ha pla   Feet are stepping on algae, and the mouth is searching for fish. 

กินกุ้งแลกินกั้ง กินหอยกระพังแมงดา    kin kung lae kin kang kin hoi kra phang maengda   Eat shrimp and crayfish. Eat mussels and horseshoe crabs.

กินแล้วก็โผมา จับที่ต้นหว้าโพธิ์ทอง    kin laeoko pho ma chap thi ton wa pho thong   Then dart to the Wa Pho Thong tree. 

ยังมีนายพราน เที่ยวเยี่ยมเยี่ยมมองมอง    yang mi naiphran thiao yiam yiam mong mong   There is also a hunter sneaking a peek at them. 

ยกเอาปืนขึ้นส่อง จ้องเอาแม่กาดำ    yok ao puen khuen song chong ao mae ka dam   Raising the gun and staring at the black crow, 

ตัวหนึ่งว่าจะต้ม อีกตัวว่าจะยำ    tua nueng wa cha tom ik tua wa cha yam   one is to boil, another one will be made into yum. 

กินนางแม่กาดำ ค่ำวันนี้อุแม่นา    kin nang mae ka dam kham wanni u mae na   This evening we will eat the mother black crow.

*These two clips word some lyrics a little different, but overall, it's the same.

นกขมิ้น : nok-kha-min (Canary song)

เจ้านกขมิ้นเหลืองอ่อนเอ๋ย  chao nokkhaminlueang-on oei  O light yellow canary

ค่ำแล้วจะนอนที่ตรงไหน  kham laeo cha non thi trong nai  Where will you sleep at night?

จะนอนไหนก็นอนได้ cha non nai ko non dai  You can sleep anywhere.

สุมทุมพุ่มไม้ก็เคยนอน  sumthum phummai ko khoei non  The bushes used to sleep

ลมพระพายชายพัดมาอ่อนๆ  lom phra phai chai phat ma on on  The gentle wind blows

เจ้าเคยจรมานอนรังเอย  chao khoei chon ma non rang oei  You used to wander and come to sleep in the nest.

วัดโบถส์ (Bot temple)

1

วัดเอ๋ย วัดโบสถ์  wat oei watbot  Temple Oey, Bot temple

*Bot means a place for monks to use for rites but is sometimes used as a temple name. Watbot means Bot temple.

ปลูกข้าวโพด สาลี  pluk khaophot sali  planting wheat

ลูกเขยตกยาก  lukkhoei tokyak  son-in-law become impoverished

แม่ยายก็พรากลูกสาวหนี maeyai ko phrak luksao ni  The mother-in-law took her daughter away.

โอ้ข้าวโพด สาลี  o khaophot sali  oh wheat

ป่านฉะนี้ จะโรยราเอย panchani cha roira oei  Thus far, it will wither

**Normally, khaophot means corn and sali means wheat, but according to La Loubere, khaophot sali here should mean wheat.

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

2

วัดเอ๋ย วัดโบสถ์  wat oei watbot  Wat Oey, Wat Bot

มีต้นตะโหนด อยู่ 7 ต้น  mi ton ta not yu chet ton  There are 7 tanote trees.

เจ้าขุนทองจะไปปล้น chao khunthong cha pai plon  Chao Khun Thong is went out to rob

ตะโหนด 7 ต้น ของคนดง  ta not chet ton khong khon dong  7 tanodes of the barbarian people

เจ้าขุนทองตายแล้ว  chao khunthong tai laeo  Chao Khun Thong is dead.

เหลือแต่กระดูกแก้ว ให้คนปอง  luea tae kraduk kaeo hai khon pong  Only bones left for people to get

มือขวาถือฉัตร  muekhwa thue chat  right hand holding a tier

มือซ้ายสะบัดขึ้นถือธง muesai sabat khuen thue thong  left hand flutters up to hold the flag.

ตั้งใจจะไปปลง tangchai cha pai plong  intend to cremate

ศพเจ้าขุนทอง sop chao khunthong  The corpse of Chao Khun Thong

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

3

วัดเอ๋ยวัดโบสถ์ wat oei watbot  Wat Oey, Wat Bot

มีตาลโตนดอยู่7ต้น mi tantanot yu chet ton  There are 7 palm tanot trees.

พ่อขุนทองก็ไปปล้น phokhun thong ko pai plon  por Khun Thong went to rob *Usually พ่อ(por) means father, but here it is a term use for a younger man with intimacy or affection.

ป่านฉะนี้ไม่เห็นมา panchani mai hen ma  even now he still can't be seen came back.

เมียคดข้าวใส่ห่อ mia khotkhao sai ho  Wife dip out rice and wrapped it

ถ่อเรือไปตามหา thoruea pai tamha  punt out to find him

เขาก็เล่าลือมา khao ko laolue ma  people are rumored

ว่าพ่อขุนทองตายแล้ว wa phokhun thong tai laeo  that por Khun Thong is dead

เหลืออยู่แต่กระดูกแก้ว luea yu tae kraduk kaeo  Only the bone remains

เมียรักจะไปปลง mia rak cha pai plong  dear wife will go to cremate

เจ้าขุนศรีจะถือฉัตร chao khun si cha thue chat  Chao Khun Sri will hold a tier.

ยกกระบัตรถือธง yokkrabat thue thong  raising the flag

ถือท้ายพายเรือหงส์ thuethai phairuea hong  steer a swan boat *a state barge with a swan as a figurehead

จะไปปลงศพเจ้าพ่อนา cha pai plongsop chaopho na  to go to the funeral of him Na

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

4

วัดเอ๋ย วัดโบสถ์  wat oei watbot  Wat Oey, Wat Bot

มีตาลตะโหนด อยู่7ต้น mi tan ta not yu chet ton  There are 7 palm tanodes.

เจ้าขุนทอง ไปปล้น chao khunthong pai plon  Chao Khun Thong went to rob

ป่านฉะนี้ ไม่เห็นมา  panchani mai hen ma  its been a long time but he still not came back

คดข้าว ใส่ห่อ khotkhao sai ho  dip out rice, wrapped

ถ่อเรือ ไปหา thoruea pai ha  punt out to find

เขา ก ร่ำฦๅมา khao kram lue ma  people are rumored

ว่าเจ้าขุนทอง ตายแล้ว  wa chao khunthong tai laeo  that Chao Khun Thong is dead

เหลือแต่ โกศแก้ว luea tae kot kaeo  Leave only the glass urn

เมียรัก จักมาปลง mia rak chak ma plong  dear wife will come

จักถ่อพาย ท้ายเรือหงส์ chak tho phai thairuea hong  Will paddle at the back of the swan boat

ไปปลงศพ อุแม่นา  pai plongsop u mae na  Go to the funeral u mae na  * u mae na is a kind of suffix used in some old songs.

This is the first one.  

This is the third one.

Originally I knew only 2 versions of this song, but since I found 4 when I searched, I put all 4 here.

The version of this song that mentions Khun Thong actually has political implications. First, is that Khun Thong died fighting for our country and we should honor his action; and then, afterward, Khun Thong kind of became a symbol of the act of a revolutionary, as that name got used in literature about the uprising on October 14th, 1973, and the massacre on October 6th, 1976.

จันทร์เจ้าขา (Moon song)

"Chaokha" is a word used by women to politely call or beg the elderly. It's quite old-fashioned and is rarely used nowadays.

จันทร์เจ้าขา ขอข้าวขอแกง ขอแหวนทองแดง ผูกมือน้องข้า chan chaokha kho khao kho kaeng kho waen thongdaeng phuk mue nong kha  Moon Chao Kha, I ask for rice, for curry (soup/stew), and for a copper ring to bind my Nong's hand.

ขอช้าง ขอม้า ให้น้องข้าขี่ ขอเก้าอี้ ให้น้องข้านั่ง khochang kho ma hai nong kha khi kho kao-i hai nong kha nang  Asking for an elephant,  for a horse, for my Nong to ride, for a chair, for my Nong to sit on.

ขอเตียงตั่ง ให้น้องข้านอน ขอละคร ให้น้องข้าดู kho tiang tang hai nong kha non kho lakhon hai nong kha du  Ask for a bed for my Nong to sleep in. Ask for a play for my Nong to watch.

ขอยายชู เลี้ยงน้องข้าเถิด ขอยายเกิด เลี้ยงตัวข้าเอง  kho yai chu liang nong kha thoet kho yai koet liangtua kha eng  ask for granny Chu, take care of my Nong. Ask for Grandma koet, take care of me.

เดือนหงาย (Waxing moon song)

เดือนเอ๋ยเดือนหงายดาวกระจายทรงกลด duean oei dueanngai daokrachai songklot  Moon eoi, moonlit night. Star scatter and the moon have halo

อุ้มเจ้าขึ้นใส่รถว่าจะพาไปชมเดือน um chao khuen sai rot wa cha pha pai chom duean  carry you in the car to take you to see the moon

พิศแลดูดาวไปดาวก็ไม่งามเหมือน phit lae du dao pai dao ko mai ngam muean  Looking at the stars, the stars are not as beautiful.

พิศแลดูเดือนเหมือนนวลอุแม่นา phit lae du duean muean nuan u mae na  Look at the moon, its beautiful like you u mae na 

น้ำท่วมเมฆ (Flood clouds)

โยกเยกเอย  yokyek oei  swaying oei  *eoi is an apostrophe after a name, or an introductory noun. , or at the end of the poem

น้ำท่วมเมฆ  namthuam mek  flood of clouds

กระต่ายลอยคอ  kratai loikho  floating rabbit

หมาหางงอ  ma hang ngo  bent-tailed dog

กอดคอโยกเยก kot kho yokyek  hugging each other neck swaying 

ค้างคาว (Bat song)

ค้างคาวเอ๋ย  khangkhao oei  bat oei 

บินมายืด ๆ  bin ma yuet yuet  slowly fly over

ค่ำ ๆ มืด ๆ  kham kham muet muet  late at  night

จะไปสวนไหน cha pai suan nai  which garden will you go

จะไปสวนนอก  cha pai suan nok  if going to the garden outside

เอาลูกมะกอกมาฝากบ้างนะ ao luk makok ma fak bang na  Do bring some olives back for us.

จิงโจ้ Chingcho

*Chingcho have many meaning such as  

Pond Skaters

a type of crib mobile nursery décor.

Female soldiers in the reign of King Rama V

kangaroo

mythical creatures

a type of bird.

I grew up thinking the word Chingcho here meant the bird, but after doing some searching I found a more convincing explanation, which is that the word Chingcho in this song did not refer to anything above but the swaying movement that all things above have in common, and this song is about Chinese people who sailed to Thailand to trade and do the swaying movement in order to sail the ship.    จิงเอย จิงโจ้    ching oei chingcho    ching oei chingcho       มาโล้สำเภา    ma lo samphao    making the junk sailing along the waves      หมาไนไล่เห่า    manai lai hao    The dog barks      จิงโจ้ตกน้ำ    chingcho tok nam    chingcho falls into water      หมาไนไล่ซ้ำ    manai lai sam    dog repeatedly chasing      จิงโจ้ดำหนี    chingcho dam ni    chingcho dives away, fleeing      ได้กล้วยสองหวี    dai kluai song wi    get two hand of bananas       ทำขวัญจิงโจ้    thamkhwan chingcho    thamkhwan chingcho    *Tham khwan refers to the practice of performing a ceremony to encourage or resurrect spirits after experiencing a loss of khwan.

It can also mean to pay damages or compensation, to give something for consolation (of the people of north Thailand), to perform rites of welcome or to compensate, or to recompense.

กาพย์เห่เรือ  ตอน  เห่ชมเรือ

เกริ่นโคลง introductory poem

ปางเสด็จประเวศด้าว     ชลาลัย pang sadet prawet dao  chalalai    ทรงรัตนพิมานชัย                 กิ่งแก้ว song rattana phiman chai  king kaeo    พรั่งพร้อมพวกพลไกร             แหนแห่ phrangphrom phuak phon krai  haen hae    เรือกระบวนต้นแพร้ว              เพริศพริ้งพรายทอง ruea krabuan ton phraeo  phroetphring phrai thong 

กาพย์ poem ช้าละวะเห่ cha la wa he

พระเสด็จโดยแดนชล       ทรงเรือต้นงามเฉิดฉาย phra sadet doi daen chon  song ruea ton ngam choetchai    กิ่งเเก้วแพร้วพรรณราย            พายอ่อนหยับจับงามงอน king kaeo phraeo phanrai  phai on yap chap ngamngon    นาวาแน่นเป็นขนัด          ล้วนรูปสัตว์แสนยากร nawa naen pen khanat  luan rup sat saenyakon    เรือริ้วทิวธงสลอน                   สาครลั่นครั่นครื้นฟอง ruea rio thio thong salon  sakhon lan khran khruen fong    เรือครุฑยุดนาคหิ้ว           ลิ่วลอยมาพาผันผยอง ruea khrut yut nak hio  lio loi ma pha phanphayong    พลพายกรายพายทอง              ร้องโห่เห่โอ้เห่มา phon phai krai phai thong  rong ho he o he ma    สรมุขมุขสี่ด้าน             เพียงพิมานผ่านเมฆา son muk muk si dan  phiang phiman phan mekha    ม่านกรองทองรจนา                หลังคาแดงแย่งมังกร man krongthong rotna  langkha daeng yaeng mangkon    สมรรถชัยไกรกาบแก้ว    แสงแวววับจับสาคร samat chai krai kap kaeo  saeng waeowap chap sakhon    เรียบเรียงเคียงคู่จร                 ดั่งร่อนฟ้ามาแดนดิน riapriang khiangkhu chon  dang ron fa ma daen din    สุวรรณหงส์ทรงพู่ห้อย     งามชดช้อยลอยหลังสินธุ์ suwan hong song phu hoi  ngam chotchoi loi lang sin    เพียงหงส์ทรงพรมมินทร์            ลินลาศเลื่อนเตือนตาชม phiang hong song phrom min  lin lat luean tueanta chom    เรือชัยไวว่องวิ่ง            รวดเร็วจริงยิ่งอย่างลม ruea chai wai wong wing  ruatreo ching ying yang lom    เสียงเส้าเร้าระดม                    ห่มท้ายเยิ่นเดินคู่กัน siang sao rao radom  hom thai yoen doen khu kan   

This one is a part of a type of poem used for sing while paddling a boat so it isn't excetly a lullaby but some people do used as one including my family. The content of this poem is to admire the beauty of the parade of royal ships. I decided that translating it would be too difficult for me. So I will just leave it at that.

ช้าง (Elephant song)\

ช้างช้างช้าง chang chang chang  elephant elephant elephant

น้องเคยเห็นช้างหรือเปล่า nong khoei hen chang rueplao  Have Nong ever seen an elephant?

ช้างมันตัวโตไม่เบา จมูกยาวๆ เรียกว่างวง chang man tua to maibao chamuk yao yao riakwa nguang  The elephant is very big and has a long nose called a proboscis.

มีเขี้ยวใต้งวงเรียกว่างา mi khiao tai nguang riakwa nga  It has fangs under its trunk called tusks.

มีหู มีตา หางยาว mihu mita hangyao  have ears, eyes, long tail

กบเอยทำไมจึงร้อง(Why is the frog crying?)

กบเอยทำไมจึงร้อง กบเอยทำไมจึงร้อง kop oei thammai chueng rong kop oei thammai chueng rong  Why is the frog crying? Why is the frog crying?

จำเป็นต้องร้องก็เพราะว่าท้องมันปวด champen tong rong ko phrowa thong man puat  The frog groaned because his stomach ached.

ท้องเอยทำไมจึงปวด ท้องเอยทำไมจึงปวด thong oei thammai chueng puatthong oei thammai chueng puat  Why does the frog stomach hurt? Why does the frog stomach hurt?

ท้องมันปวดก็เพราะว่าข้าวมันดิบ thong man puat ko phrowa khaoman dip  The frog stomach hurts because the rice is raw.

ข้าวเอยทำไมจึงดิบ ข้าวเอยทำไมจึงดิบ khao oei thammai chueng dip khao oei thammai chueng dip  Why is the rice so raw? Why is the rice so raw?

ข้าวมันดิบก็เพราะว่าไฟมันดับ khaoman dip ko phrowa fai man dap  The rice was raw because the fire was extinguished.

ไฟเอยทำไมจึงดับ ไฟเอยทำไมจึงดับ fai oei thammai chueng dapfai oei thammai chueng dap  Why did the fire go out? Why did the fire go out?

ไฟมันดับก็เพราะว่าฟืนมันเปียก fai man dap ko phrowa fuen man piak  The fire was extinguished because the firewood was wet.

ฟืนเอยทำไมจึงเปียก ฟืนเอยทำไมจึงเปียก fuen oei thammai chueng piak fuen oei thammai chueng piak  Why is the firewood wet? Why is the firewood wet?

ฟืนมันเปียกก็เพราะว่าฝนมันตก fuen man piak ko phrowa fon man tok  The firewood is wet because it rains.

ฝนเอยทำไมจึงตก ฝนเอยทำไมจึงตก fon oei thammai chueng tok fon oei thammai chueng tok  Why does it rain? Why does it rain?

ฝนมันตกก็เพราะว่ากบมันร้อง fon man tok ko phrowa kop man rong  It's raining because the frogs sing.

กบเอยทำไมจึงร้อง กบเอยทำไมจึงร้อง kop oei thammai chueng rong kop oei thammai chueng rong  Why is the frog crying? Why is the frog crying?

กบมันร้องก็เพราะว่าท้องมันปวด kop man rong ko phrowa thong man puat  The frog groaned because his stomach ached.

หนูมาลี nu mali

หนูมาลีมีลูกแมวเหมียวลูกแมวเหมียวลูกแมวเหมียว nu mali mi lukmaeo miao lukmaeo miao lukmaeo miao  Malee has a kitty cat, a kitty cat, a kitty cat

หนูมาลีมีลูกแมวเหมียวขนมันคล้ายสำลี nu mali mi lukmaeo miao khon man khlai samli  Malee has a kitty cat. Its fur is like cotton wool.

หนูมาลีจะไปที่ใดไปที่ใดไปที่ใด nu mali cha pai thidai pai thidai pai thidai  No matter where Malee goes

หนูมาลีจะไปที่ใดมันตามไปทุกที่ nu mali cha pai thidai man tam pai thuk thi  No matter where Malee goes. it follows everywhere.

เป็ดอาบน้ำ bath duck

ก้าบ ก้าบ ก้าบ เป็ดอาบน้ำในคลอง  kap kap kap pet apnam nai khlong  Kab Kab Kab Duck bathing in the canal

ตาก็จ้องแลมองเพราะในคลองมีหอย ปู ปลา ta ko chong lae mong phro nai khlong mi hoi pu pla  It eyes staring because there were shells, crabs and fish in the canal.

กำมือ fist your hand

กำมือขึ้นแล้วหมุนๆ kammue khuen laeo mun mun  ชูมือขึ้นโบกไปมา chu muekhuen bok paima  fist your hand, raise it and turn around, raise your hand and wave it back and forth.*2

กางแขนขึ้นแหละลง kangkhaen khuen lae long  arms up and down 

พับแขนมือแตะไหล่ phap khaen mue tae lai  folded arms touching shoulders

กางแขนขึ้นแหละลง kangkhaen khuen lae long  arms up and down 

ชูมือขึ้นหมุนไปรอบตัว chu muekhuen mun pai roptua  Put your hands up and spin around.

โรงเรียนของเราน่าอยู่ Our school is nice

โรงเรียนของเราน่าอยู่ rongrian khong rao na yu  Our school is nice

คุณครูใจดีทุกคน khunkhru chaidi thuk khon  All teachers are kind.

เด็ก ๆ ก็ไม่ซุกซน dek dek ko mai sukson  Children are not naughty.

พวกเราทุกคนชอบมาโรงเรียน phuakrao thuk khon chop ma rongrian  We all like to come to school.

ชอบมา ชอบมาโรงเรียน chop ma chop ma rongrian  like to, like to come to school

For my entire life, I had never seen anyone sing this song sincerely.

แมงมุมลายตัวนั้น That striped spider

แมงมุมลายตัวนั้น maengmum lai tua nan  that striped spider

ฉันเห็นมันซมซานเหลือทน chan hen man somsan lueathon  I saw that it looked unbearable.

วันหนึ่งมันเปียกฝนไหลหล่นจากบนหลังคา wan nueng man piak fon lai lon chak bon langkha  one day it was wet with rain flowing from the roof

พระอาทิตย์ส่องแสงน้ำแห้งเหือดไปลับตา phra-athit songsaeng nam haenghueat pai lapta  the sun shines The dry water ran out of sight.

มันรีบไต่ขึ้นฟ้าหันหลังมาทำตาลุกวาว man rip tai khuen fa hanlang ma thamta lukwao  It hurriedly climbed into the sky. Turning around, eyes sparkling.

After some searching, I found out that this one is actually an English song, Itsy Bitsy Spider, translated into Thai, but it is not that match between the two versions, so I am not using the original lyrics here.

songs in children's games

รีรีข้าวสาร Reree Khaosan

รีรีข้าวสาร  ri ri khaosan  Reree Khaosan

สองทะนานข้าวเปลือก  song thanan khaoplueak  two pans of paddy

เลือกท้องใบลาน  lueak thong bailan  choose palm leaves

เก็บเบี้ยใต้ถุนร้าน  kepbiataithunran  collect the allowance under the store.

คดข้าวใส่จาน  khotkhao sai chan  crooked rice on a plate

พานเอาคนข้างหลังไว้ให้ดี phan ao khon khanglang wai hai di  Take the person behind you.

ไอ้เข้ไอ้โขง ai khe ai khon

อ้ายเข้อ้ายโขง   aikhe ai khong  Ai crocodile

อยู่ในโพรงไม้สัก   yu nai phrong maisak  live in the hollow of teak

อ้ายเข้ฟันหัก  aikhe fan hak  Ai crocodile tooth are broken

กัดคนไม่เข้า kat khon mai khao  can't biting people

The lyrics in this clip and the lyrics I write are a little different, but the meaning is still the same.

งูกินหาง tail-eating snake

Father Snake :

แม่งูเอ๋ยกินน้ำบ่อไหน mae ngu oei kin nambo nai  Where does mother snake drink water?    Mother Snake :  

กินน้ำบ่อโสกโยกไปโยกมา  kin nambo sok yok pai yok ma  drinking water from the well, rocking and swaying    Father Snake :

แม่งูเอ๋ยกินน้ำบ่อไหน mae ngu oei kin nambo nai  Where does mother snake drink water?    Mother Snake :

กินน้ำบ่อหินบินไปบินมา  kin nambo hin bin pai bin ma  Drink water at stone pond, flying back and forth.    Father Snake :

แม่งูเอ๋ยกินน้ำบ่อไหน mae ngu oei kin nambo nai  Where does mother snake drink water?    Mother Snake :

กินน้ำบ่อทรายย้ายไปย้ายมา  kin nambo sai yai pai yai ma  Drink water at sand wells, move back and forth.    Father Snake :

กินหัวกินหางกินกลางตลอดตัว kin hua kinhang kin klang talot tua  Eat head, eat tail, eat in the middle to the whole body.

มอญซ่อนผ้า Mon hides the cloth

มอญซ่อนผ้า  mon son pha  Mon hides the cloth

ตุ๊กตาอยู่ข้างหลัง  tukta yu khanglang  doll on the back

ไว้นู่นไว้นี่  wai non wai ni  keep it right there. Keep it right here

ฉันจะตีก้นเธอ chan cha ti kon thoe  I will spank you

จ้ำจี้มะเขือเปราะ chamchi makhuea pro

จ้ำจี้มะเขือเปราะ กระเทาะหน้าแว่น chamchi makhuea pro kratho nawaen  chamchi eggplant kratho nawaen 

พายเรืออกแอ่น กระแท่นต้นกุ่ม phairuea ok aen krathaen ton kum  Rowing until the chest bent. Almost stuck to the kum tree.

สาวๆ หนุ่มๆ อาบน้ำท่าไหน sao sao num num apnam tha nai  Where do young people take a bath?

อาบน้ำท่าวัด เอาแป้งที่ไหนผัด apnam tha wat ao paeng thinai phat  Take a bath at the temple's waterside. Where do they get the face powder from?

เอากระจกที่ไหนส่อง เยี่ยมๆ มองๆ นกขุนทองร้องฮู้  ao krachok thinai song yiam yiam mong mong nokkhunthong rong hu  Where will they get a mirror to use? Sneak a peek secretly. Khun Thong birds sing hoo.

โพงพาง phongphang

โพงพางเอ๋ย ปลาเข้าลอด  phongphang oei pla khao lot  fish trap oei, the fish enters through.

ปลาตาบอด เข้าลอดโพงพาง pla tabot khao lot phongphang  A blind fish enters the fish trap.

*When I was a kid, I actually didn't know this game's name or that it had a song. We call it "live fish, dead fish" and just shout that at the beginning of the game, lol.

เป่ายิ้งฉุบ

ยันยินเยาปั๊กกะเป่ายิ้งฉุบ yan yin yao pak ka pao ying chup 

There are actually a lot of songs to sing before Rock Paper Scissors, but the one you saw above is the one almost every version has and also the only thing most people actually use because the other verses are too long. Many times, it gets shortened to the point of using only the last word.

Songs for university activities or camp.

แจว Paddle

แจวมาแจวจ้ำจึก  chaeo ma chaeo cham chuek  Paddle, come paddle.

น้ำนิ่งไหลลึกนึกถึงคนแจว *2 namninglailuek nuekthueng khon chaeo  Still, water flows deep. Thinking of a rower.

แจวเรือจะไปซื้อ “word”  chaeoruea cha pai sue “word”  Sailing boats will go buy a "word".

ขอเชิญ “name” ลุกขึ้นมาแจว kho choen “name” luk khuen ma chaeo Invite "name" to come up.

*“word” and “name” must be rhyming words.

ไก่ย่าง grilled chicken

ไก่ย่างถูกเผา*2 kaiyang thuk phao *2 The grilled chicken got burnt *2

มันจะถูกไม้เสียบ*2 man cha thuk mai siap *2 It will be skewed *2

เสียบตูดซ้ายเสียบตูดขวา siap tut sai siap tut khwa  Plug in the left ass, plug in the right ass

เสียบตูดซ้ายเสียบตูดขวาเอ๊า!! siap tut sai siap tut khwa ao!! Plug in the left ass, plug in the right ass, ah!!

ร้อนจริงๆร้อนจริงๆร้อนจริงๆ ron ching ching *3 extremely hot *3 

ตาแดงๆ Red, red eyes

ตาแดง ๆ อย่ามายะน้องแรง น้องเจ็บหัวเข่า *2 tadaeng tadaeng ya ma ya nong raeng nong chep huakhao *2 Red red eyes, don't come fxxk me hard. My knee hurt. *2

น้องบอกอย่ามายะ อย่ามายะ!! *2 nong bok ya ma ya ya ma ya *2 I said, "don't come, don't come !! *2

อย่ามายะน้องแรง น้องเจ็บหัวเข่า  ya ma ya nong raeng nong chep huakhao  Don't come fxxk me hard. My knee hurt.

ปีหน้าจะมีรำวง *2 pi na cha mi ramwong *2 Next year there will be a dance. *2

น้องกลัวท้องป่อง อย่ามายะ อย่ามายะ nong klua thong pong ya ma ya ya ma ya  I'm scared of a big belly. Don't come, don't come.

This one is filthy, but due to its popularity, I chose to put it in. I'm a modest person, I swear.(ﾉ∀＼*)

ฮิปโป Hippo

ฮิป! ฮิป! ฮิป! ฮิปโป  Hip! Hip! Hip! hippo  Hip! Hip! Hip! hippo

โอ้โห ตัวมันใหญ่มัน  o ho tua man yai man  Oh, it's big.

เดินอุ้ยอ้าย มันเดินอุ้ย  doen ui-ai man doen ui  Walks slowly, it walks slowly.

ลัลล้า ลัลลัลลา ลัลล้ลลา lan la lan lan la lan lon la  lalala lalala lalala

ตุ่ม Jar

ตุ่มใส่น้ำใส่น้ำให้เต็มตุ่ม  tum sai nam sai nam hai tem tum *2 Water jar, fill the jar with water *2

แล้วเราจะชื่นใจ laeo rao cha chuenchai *2 Then we will rejoice *2

รถตุ๊กๆ Tuk tuk car

รถตุ๊กๆ บรรทุกถ่าน  rot tuk tuk banthuk than  tuk tuk car, carry charcoal

รถขึ้นสะพาน  rot khuen saphan  car up the bridge

รถลงสะพาน  rot long saphan  car down the bridge

รถเลี้ยวซ้าย  rot liaosai  car turn left

รถเลี้ยวขวา  rot liao khwa  car turn right

ชักกระตุกๆๆๆ chakkratuk kratuk kratuk kratuk  twitch*4

สับปะรด Pineapple  

มีตารอบตัว รอบตัว รอบตัว  mita roptua roptua roptua  have eyes everywhere

มีตัวลายตา ลายตา ลายตา  mi tua laita laita laita  have dazzling body. Dazzling, dazzling, dazzling.

ฮูลาฮูลา สับปะรด ๆ  hu la hu la sapparot sapparot  Hula Hula Pineapple.

(เปรี้ยวไหม ๆ? เปรี้ยว!) เปรี้ยวทำยังไง? (priao mai priao mai? Priao!) priao tham yangngai? (Is it sour? Yes!) What if it's sour?

เปรี้ยวก็จิ้มเกลือ  priao ko chim kluea  sour, then dipped in salt.

หวานก็จิ้มเกลือ  wan ko chim kluea  sweet, then dipped in salt.

เปรี้ยวก็จิ้มเกลือ  priao ko chim kluea  sour, then dipped in salt.

หวานก็จิ้มเกลือ  wan ko chim kluea  sweet, then dipped in salt.

ถ้าไม่มีเกลือ ก็ไม่ต้องจิ้ม  tha mai mi kluea ko mai tong chim  If there is no salt, no need to dip.

หม่ำไปเลย ๆ mam pai loei mam pai loei  Eat it up*2

กิ่งก้านใบ Branches, stems, and leaves      

กิ่งก้านใบ ชะ ชะ ใบก้านกิ่ง  kingkan bai chacha bai kan king  Branches, stems, and leaves. Water wash leaves, stems, and branches.

กิ่งก้านใบ ชะ ชะ ใบก้านกิ่ง  kingkan bai chacha bai kan king  Branches, stems, and leaves. Water wash leaves, stems, and branches.

ฝนตกลงมาจริง ๆ  fontok long ma ching ching  It's really raining.

ฝนตกลงมาจริง ๆ  fontok long ma ching ching  It's really raining.

ชะ ชะ กิ่งก้านใบ chacha kingkan bai  Branches, stems, and leaves get wash by water

Index

[aurora-australis-tumbles]

Hi! 😍 I'm so sad that you can't do Fic Off anymore, but the December Prompt thing sounds great. So, if you please, I'd like 21 and 29 for Phrack. And thank you so much for doing this. 💖💖💖

No, no, we just can’t do it this year. @arlome and I have high hopes of returning to Fic Off next year, and special plans in the works for the spring as well, so 2023 has a lot of promise — at least as far as our fic collaborations go. 😂 But writing prompts in December has become a lovely tradition for me, so I wanted to keep that going as I was able this year anyway, and I thank YOU for the prompts. ❤️

That said... I have no idea if this is what you were looking for. 😂 But the prompt heart wants what it wants, I suppose, and apparently this is what it wanted for wrapping paper (21) and wishes (29)!

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Jack Robinson was a man who noticed things.

He couldn’t help it; he was, by nature and profession, a detective. 

And, he could finally admit (to himself and the world), the object of his noticing these days was very often Phryne Fisher. 

He knew things now. Knew how she took her tea, and when she preferred coffee, and what she looked like before she’d had either. He knew which songs she played to liven up a party, and where her favourite reading spot was, and which libations made her sick as an adult after overindulgences in her youth.

He knew because he noticed.

And something he’d noticed, which seemed a bit strange to him, was how she opened gifts.

For a woman who always seemed to be operating at top speed, she took a surprising amount of time and care when opening presents. There was almost a reverence there, which he found intriguing. So, one day, he asked her about it.

She was quiet, for a moment, and he worried that he’d overstepped, but then she smiled at him, a little embarrassed, a little sad, and shook her head.

“It was a game,” she explained quietly. “Stupid and silly, but Janey liked it. If you could open your present without ripping the wrapping paper, then you would get what you wished for. We hardly ever got presents, of course, just from Aunt P at Christmas and mother for our birthdays — when she could hide enough away from father, anyway. But we still played it, Janey and Arthur and me.” The smile got a little sadder then. “And now I’m the only one left who remembers that. Maybe that’s why I still do it. That or it’s just muscle memory.” She shrugged, the motion uncharacteristically stilted. “And either way I stopped believing in wishes long ago.”

“What about Guy?” Jack asked, though he suspected he knew the answer. She shook her head.

“Guy refused to play, but somehow always got what he wanted anyway,” she told him with a raised eyebrow and a bit more of her regular spark.

“Ah,” Jack replied. “Still, I think it must work sometimes,” he concluded.

“Oh?”

“Of course. Why do you think I’m so gentle with your clothes?” he asked with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. She laughed at that, dispelling the last of her melancholy just as he’d hoped, and went back to opening the elaborate stationary set her mother had sent to her along with no small amount of subtext.

Still... Jack now noticed a wistfulness at the edges of her expression whenever the subject of gifts came up.

He was a detective, after all.

And so, with no small amount of his own subtext, on the 21st of December, Jack arrived at Wardlow bearing gifts.

A scarf he’d seen her eyeing and a book that had somehow gone missing from the evidence locker and a plain white envelope.

As was her habit, she took a great deal of care in unwrapping her presents, and she was deeply moved and grateful for each, but when she got to the envelope, she stopped.

“It’s empty,” she informed him.

She was, of course, a detective too.

“It is,” he confirmed. “It’s also used.”

She raised an eyebrow. “How... thrifty of you, Jack.” He rolled his eyes.

“Used and completely intact,” he added with emphasis.

She nodded as one might for a small child showing you some new nursery rhyme they’d just learned. “Yes, well done you, Jack,” she teased with bemused amusement. “Clearly nobody opens an envelope more fastidiously in all of Melbourne.”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes again — it was her birthday. 

“This is a special envelope,” he explained. “It’s the one you hid in my desk the day before you flew off.”

She looked back at the paper in surprise. “With my address in London?” she asked, though it wasn’t really a question.

“Mmmm,” he confirmed. “I’m afraid the address came with me, but the envelope I tucked in my office drawer. Not quite sure why... probably all the fastidiousness,” he supposed with a self-deprecating shrug. “But lucky I did keep it, because now there is a chain of evidence.”

“Of what?” she asked, still staring at the envelope.

“That was a gift, Phryne. I knew it at the time. And outstretched hand and a gift of trust, from you to me. And when I opened it, I didn’t rip the paper. And do you know what?”

“What?” she whispered, beginning to understand.

“That’s when I got everything I wished for.”

She looked up then, eyes wet, and smiled tremulously. “Is that so?”

“It is,” he confirmed, reaching over to hold her free hand. “And now I’m going to push my luck by making another request; keep up your tradition. All of it. Because if you stop believing entirely, well, that would be a world with a little less Phryne Fisher in it. And what kind of world would that be?”

She snorted and Jack pushed his luck just a little bit further.

“We can remember them together.”

Phryne was quiet then, and Jack held his breath — this was more sentimentality than either of them was used to or generally comfortable with and there was every chance she would not appreciate his own outstretched hand just now. But then she smiled, wide and unencumbered and beautiful, and Jack’s breath stopped for an entirely different reason.

She squeezed his hand and opened the envelope, not tearing it a jot — it wasn’t sealed, so it wasn’t that hard, but Jack was hardly going to point that out on her birthday — before leaning over and kissing him soundly.

“Well,” she said, when she finally pulled back and smoothed her hair into place. “Look at that. Seems my wish came true after all.”

Jack barked out a laugh and shook his head, and she winked, before meaningfully glancing back behind her towards the stairs.

“Let me guess,” he said, taking her hand and the hint and leading her in that general direction. “You have one or two other wishes still on the docket?”

She shrugged, but he wasn’t fooled a bit. 

He was a detective, he couldn’t help it.

And, he could finally admit, he didn’t want to either.

-------

December Prompts

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

I am deeply saddened to see that actor David McCallum has died. While 90 hardly a short life, when someone has mattered to you, even in the distant way of an actor playing make believe for a living, you always wish the life were longer.

I expect I am about to ramble, and not very coherently (sleep deprivation), so all of it will go under the cut.

Actually, he was about the first actor I ever remember recognizing. When I was 3 I adored an obscure tv series called The Invisible Man, where he played the title character. It bares little resemblance to the original story, instead following the adventure show of the 1970s-1980s formula. I think the fact he played a scientist, married to a scientist, and that the couple happily worked together had a lot to do with it. Reminding me of my parents was a natural thing to appeal to a preschooler.

To be honest, I only remembered fragments of the show, but I remembered him vividly. Even as a little kid if I saw him anywhere my first thought was “lt’s the invisible man!!” and a wave of affection would wash over me.

Affection is something you wouldn’t find with my favorite of his tv shows. Steel, in my beloved Sapphire and Steel, is hardly a warm character. How can I describe the show…Well, the title characters aren’t human, but beings that are sent out to deal with problems in time, or maybe you can say caused by time. Nursery rhymes, photographs, and gas stations take on a menacing quality. If these two show up you better be afraid because while they will go to extreme lengths to stop the threat, those lengths might involve sacrificing you.

Steel the cool, sharp edged, and anything but the lovable nice guy I’d adored as a tot….and I adored him here too.

I was late seeing Sapphire and Steel, but I was even later seeing The Outer Limits (original version) where he starred in two of my favorite episodes.

In one, The Sixth Finger, he played a coal miner experimented on by a scientist until he evolved far beyond a connection to his humanity. I have an action figure of that one!

The other, Forms of Things Unknown, has an obvious inspiration in a certain famous French thriller, but then in comes McCallum, a man experimenting with time. While in the other episode he played a man shedding his humanity with every mutation, here he actually is unearthly from the start, a peculiar characterization that reminds me of the madness of characters that have seen to far into the void, but also of a child lost to forces far beyond them….

TBH, I went through a period where this episode was comfort viewing. I would day dream up back story details for McCallum’s character, and even ways to connect it to Sapphire and Steel.

What? just because I was going full geeky fangirl on a single episode of a tv show made well before I was born isn’t THAT weird on here!

And here is another obscure one I’m fond of, a movie called The Ravine. It’s a movie set during WWII where he’s a German soldier sent to capture a woman that’s been acting as a sniper picking of his side like crazy. The concept, that they end up trapped together and do the enemies to lovers thing, seemed like the usual contrived thing. Still, out of mild curiosity I watched a horrible print on Youtube and I was surprised how effective it was. I was actually sold on the tragic relationship, and I’d gone into it expecting to be rolling me eyes. In fact , since it isn’t (or at least wasn’t) available on DVD in the US I got one from Europe. Good thing the acting and setting are more important than dialog, cause I don’t speak Italian!

Frankenstein: The True Story has about as much relationship to the original novel as Bram Stoker’s Dracula has to the book, but it’s actually a rather fascinating take on subject. Tumblr would approve of the gay subtext (more like text, cause how could even folks in the ‘70s miss it) McCallum’s part is supporting, but crucial being both Frankenstein’s mentor and brain donor. I’ll be honest with you, my weakness for mad scientists is showing because I swooned over even has he enthusiastically collects raw materials (ahem) for their work.

Is it weird that this is the roll he played that had me properly, classic fan girl swooning?

There are couple of adaptations that are notable for me. There is that adaptation of Kidnapped he was in. I got it on DVD for my father because the sequel to Kidnapped was a childhood favorite of his, and this was the rare version to use that book (TBH, Pop had a fanboy crush on the girl in that book, from the way he talk! LOL) Unfortunately Pop died before seeing it, so it colors my thoughts on it. And there was an adaptation of Our Mutual Friend, one of my favorite Dickens novels, but I watched it in a “see all the adaptations” kick so it’s a blur of compare and contrast.

I will end this with the most peculiar way a part he played connected with me.

It started unexpectedly, with me watching The Man from UNCLE on a DVD set my father had gotten for Christmas. My parents had liked the show, but like a lot of shows from before I was born I’d heard a lot about it before I’d seen it.

To be honest I wasn’t particularly impressed. Oh, it was fine, and I did like the warm dynamic of the main two characters. **It’s just sort plain potato chip tv, tasty but forgettable. Plus it was sooo of it’s time that the sexism irritated me no end. I have watched, and loved, a lot of 1960s tv, so maybe I just expected more. I enjoyed it, but if you asked me to rank my faves of the “ Sixties lets do the Spy Thing” tv shows I would pick Wild, Wild, West or The Avengers or Danger Man or Get Smart*** even before it.

So it was fine, I enjoyed it while we watched, and then didn’t really think about it anymore.

And then my father got sick.

My father’s illness, and eventual death, hit me hard. Very hard. I was alone dealing with it. I had no friends, and wasn’t even on Tumblr yet. I couldn’t weigh my parents down with my emotions when they had so much of their own. And with my father’s chemo and such I was often actually alone. Obviously not as much as now, but so many days completely alone was new to me then.

So there I was, on the verge of being an emotional but holding it together, desperately aching for someone, anyone, I could turn to….

And then I started dreaming.

Of course I always had dreamed, but this was different. This was nightly dreaming. Serial dreaming. Stories that continued on for days or weeks. And fictional characters started creeping in. Up until then the characters in dreams had always been my OCs, but now suddenly tv shows, books, movies, comics…they were all fodder for the stories helping me escape.

The part may be one of his most famous roles, but it still came as a huge surprise when I found myself dreaming about Illya.

Actually, the first dream was a general Man from UNCLE dream. It was fun, even if it seemed weird to be dreaming about the show. But then the next one had Illya only.

And so it started, an epic series of dreams, chapter after chapter, night after night. Adventures with Illya.

Well, and aliens and time travel and so on. It was, after all, my subconscious spinning the story, not screenwriters. Gotta get time travel and/or alternate universes in there somewhere if it comes out of mushed up brain.

After a while the dreams had bigger gaps between them, but the dreams with Illya still came. In fact over months they dominated my dreaming. Illya was there all the time.

It got so I spent time when I was awake, thinking about the dreams and the character. What would Illya think of this? What would Illya listen to? What would Illya say? What if Illya were in that situation? What if…

Now, I admit, the Illya I was imagining is only inspired by the one David McCallum played. It looked like him. It sounded like him. I even found myself replaying select episodes to remind myself of his “voice” so my brain could make him seem more authentic. But the truth was he was my interpretation of Illya, my head-cannon, my quirks, my obsessions..

Actually I guess it was my need. I needed someone. My dreams even created characters to be my avatars for interacting with him. I those dreams I could talk to him, laugh with him, cry in front of him, save him or be saved by him, and be his friend.

And in a weird way, that is what my brain was doing. It was giving me an imaginary friend while I slept. Someone smart and kind and brave, to save the world…just like the imaginary friend I’d had when I was little.****

I’d given myself an imaginary friend that looked and sounded like Illya!

Well, in dreams. I wasn’t so far gone I talked to him when I was awake!

But it was comforting. I found myself thinking about those dreams, almost cuddling up to them in those painful dark days. I confess I worried that if I ever were in a delirium or under anesthetic or something might call out to him and have some very embarressing questions asked.

Eventually the dreams stopped. Time moves on. Maybe I didn’t need them anymore, or maybe my subconscious got bored.

TBH I kinda wish I still had dreams about him, or some other characters. Any dreams with a repeated cast or continuing story would be beyond welcome. I could REALLY use their company now.

And now, writing this, I realize just why I actually gasped when I saw David McCallum had died. Yes, as an actor he had played many parts I enjoyed, but other actors have done that without the shock of their death knocking the breath from me. But the fact is no other actor has had their performance gift me with something that felt like a friend when I needed one most.

So that’s why I am sad. It isn’t just a list of parts he played that I loved or that he had been a familiar face as long as I can remember. He got stored in a special part of my mind, the strange area of the imagination where strangers and friends get blurred and fiction protect a fracturing heart.

I am eternally grateful he lived. Even if I didn’t have a list of credits I enjoyed ******, as long as I had those dreams he helped inspire when I needed them most I’d mourn his passing.

Condolences to all that loved him, be they friends, family, or fans.

**Though I would end up in fandom exile for seeing them as like brothers or little boy best friends instead of shipping them. Good on you if you do. I think it’s beautiful every character everywhere gets shipped with someone, but dang, what is with the hate for the non-shipping fans?)

*** The Prisoner, possibly my fave tv show ever, isn’t really in this category to my mind, but a lots of folks would disagree.

****My childhood imaginary friend was the ghost of a little boy murdered by his uncle during the American Revolution. Still, the smart, kind, brave, save the world stuff was there too.

*****I didn’t mention something he did that I enjoyed. For instance, Mother Love, a wonderful bit of tv that criminally isn’t on DVD, because it’s Diana Riggs’ showcase. But then I’ve also never seen any of the six billion years of NCIS (I think those are the letters). Who knows how many other of his work I never saw.