#dynamic blend

[gigivas]

1K GIGI Prompts Collections 'Vibrant NYC Collage: Urban Energy Unleashed' 5952 Free 10 pages out of 1000 pages

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[landwriter]

Hi! I hope you feel better soon!

This is a great prompt by @academicblorbo about Hob Gadling being the landlord of the Dead Boys. It has a wonderful fill already by @omgcinnamoncakes but I’d love to see what you come up with for it!

Alternative prompt from me if that doesn’t work for your brain: remember the date between Jenny and Maxine? How about one between Jenny and Esther? Poor Jenny is going to really question her taste in beautiful blonde women 😭

Thank you! I saw ‘landlord’ and ‘decades’ and blacked out. I love Hob having them as tenants. Maybe even before the modern day meeting in Sandman.

The Sandman/Dead Boy Detectives, 2.4k, G Dream/Hob, pre-slash, alternating/outsider POV, found family, a reunion and revelations etc.

---

Hob did not, strictly speaking, have tenants. It was more of a minor haunting. Pun intended.

The small room above the pub and below his flat wasn’t worth charging anyone rent for; when he first bought the building he had put a handsome oak desk in there and some bookshelves before wondering who he was possibly keeping up appearances for. Who was he going to take back upstairs that would stop and say, Wait, can I see your office? So he’d left it as more or less an abandoned room.

When he realized a pair of boys were using it as their clubhouse, he didn’t do anything at first. He saw them quietly coming and going a couple times, disappearing around the corner of the first landing. Brazen things. He meant to call after them, but the shout had died in his throat. He’d been young once. He still remembered the need to get away from it all. It was only when he went to check if they’d been making a mess of the room that he discovered it was still locked.

He’d crouched down and inspected the latch and found no marks at all. Huh, he’d said, and jiggled it again, and been a little more interested in whatever clever way they were getting into it after they disappeared up his stairs. Then he didn’t see them for weeks, and assumed they had gotten bored and stopped.

Until they came back. In the middle of an argument, striding through the pub like they owned it. Hob straightened up as they passed him.

“I cannot believe you broke the mirror.”

“I was in a rush! It’s not my fault you forgot you needed Arcana Incantatum after we arrived at the church. And found the demon.”

“I hardly forgot, I only made the mistake of assuming you would know to pack it by now.”

Hob raised his eyebrows. The boys disappeared into the back hallway. He followed them as they went upstairs, too preoccupied with their drama to notice Hob. They turned onto the landing, still carrying on. Even as they walked through the door. The locked, closed door.

Hob blinked. Then he drew his keys from his pocket and opened the door. The boys were still inside. One of them was pulling a mirror out of a backpack that was several times too small for it. They didn’t even look up, and Hob wondered how he couldn’t possibly have put it together earlier. He cleared his throat.

“Hello, boys.” That caught their attention. Hob grinned. “Seems we’re neighbours.”

---

Edwin abhorred getting involved with the living. He and Charles got along perfectly well on their own. They were a duo. An intrepid pair. Best mates, like Charles often stressed whenever he was about to ask something particularly ridiculous of Edwin. They were solid together. As solid as two ghost boys could be. The living, though, were messy and unpredictable.

Perhaps the most salient fact at present: Charles invariably became attached to them.

“He’s sad, mate. I can see it in his eyes.”

“You said those exact words in ‘94 about a dog. At least ask Hob himself.”

Before you decide to adopt him too.

Hob Gadling, irritatingly, was unobjectionable on every ground Edwin could think of. He had made no imposition upon them. When he found them, he only asked them their business, and then told them he was usually downstairs, or upstairs, if they needed anything they couldn’t procure themselves. He had an interest in rare and old books, as it happened. In explaining this, he had also hinted at being far older than his looks would suggest, which vexed Edwin twice over. He knew his curiosity would not be slaked until he talked to Hob, but then he would be the one getting involved with the living, and Charles would hardly let him forget it.

“Do you think he’s really immortal? Mate’s far too calm. Last week I saw him stop a fight downstairs by stepping right between these huge blokes. He just said something and smiled and they backed right off.” Charles lit up. “Do you reckon he’d teach me how to do that? Conflict de-escalation, innit? I could show him some moves with the cricket bat, I bet. Oh, do you think he’s a cricket fan?”

It was obviously a hopeless case, and since the Dead Boy Detectives never took on hopeless cases, there was only one course of action that remained. Edwin had long since disabused himself of the notion he needed to breathe. He had no beating heart, yet when he was startled, he would find himself clutching his chest. Now, he exhaled slowly through his nose in an entirely superfluous sigh of resignation. “Well, Charles, shall we go talk to him?”

---

When the millennium came around, Hob found himself celebrating it with his accidental tenants. There was something gloriously satisfying about being able to make a toast to the next one and have it taken seriously. He’d asked them if they had something better to do - spectral trouble to get into et cetera - and they both looked at him with almost identical put-upon and incredulous expressions.

Hob had a terrible suspicion they thought they were taking care of him as much as he thought he was taking care of them.

Edwin, with his insatiable curiosity and, deep underneath it, something Hob thought he recognized from himself: a sharp animal ferocity and a refusal to go until he’s good and done, natural laws be damned. Charles, still brightly, painfully alive for a ghost - who should be alive still, by all rights, but nothing of this life was fair - who joked to cover up hurt in a way Hob knew too, and glowed any time Hob turned so much as a kind word to him.

He wondered what they saw when they looked at him.

The year ticked over, and technology kept working. Charles grinned innocently and said he could probably possess the telly and break it that way if Hob wanted?

Hob’s heart twinged. He knew they weren’t his, not to keep, but it seemed that teenagers didn’t change at all over the centuries, even if the boys were only sort of teenagers in the way Hob was only sort of in his thirties. It didn’t change that they’d been punted from the mortal coil before having a chance to grow up, and figure out the kind of men they were, and make their own choices and fuck up and try to be better than their fathers, and everything everyone deserved. Hob had made more than his share of mistakes. They hadn’t been given the chance to make nearly any at all.

So they made toasts to the new millennium, to the detective agency, to themselves, all stuck out of time in different ways and refusing to move on for different reasons, and Hob allowed himself to think of Robyn and privately pretend that they were his all the same.

---

A week later, Hob was reminded of the other universal traits of teenagers when he mentioned his stranger and both boys began to grill him with terrifying alacrity. Before turning to his dating life, like ravening bloody wolves. When Edwin had asked, in a specifically nineteenth century manner that Hob remembered all too well, if Hob had always been unmarried, he’d nearly put his head in his hands.

“It can be hard for me to associate with the living too, you know. For obvious reasons.”

Charles had turned to Edwin and hissed “See? I told you.”

Right in front of him. Nobody had taught them manners.

“Manners, Charles,” replied Edwin loftily. “We will, of course, respect your privacy. A man is entitled to his secrets.”

“You’ll go upstairs and rifle through my personal things, is what you’ll do,” said Hob.

Charles coughed to hide his laugh. Edwin flushed and looked away. Hob snorted, and told them about Eleanor and Robyn. Properly. It was a strange relief. He’d told the story wrong for plausibility’s sake so many times he had been worried he’d forget the truth of it one day.

They had listened, and been remarkably quiet until Charles piped up and offered to set him up with a ‘really fit’ ghost. Hob had roundly shut that down. Woefully, not all explanations were satisfying enough. Charles cornered him again the next morning while he was cleaning the bar.

“No, mate, I still don’t get it.” Hob was about to say he no more wanted to be with someone who couldn’t feel pleasure from his touch than someone who would grow old and be taken from him while he stayed the same, when Charles went on, bafflingly, to ask, “Why don’t you meet your mysterious friend more often than once a century?”

Hob sighed. “Adults are often busy, Charles.” Nevermind that he had begun to wonder the same since the eighteenth century. He’d always just assumed time passed differently for his stranger.

Charles just laughed and perched himself on the bar top. “Ooh, low blow. We’re busy too, you know. Plenty of cases to solve.”

“Really,” said Hob. “You’re busy. Right now.”

Charles waggled his eyebrows.

“Charles, I am not a case,” said Hob, sternly as possible. “I’m not even a ghost. He’s not a ghost. No ghosts.”

“We could investigate. Maybe ghosts are involved. What even is he? Why every hundred years? Is it some sort of Persephone situation?”

Hob bit his lip against shouting I don’t know! I don’t know anything about him! Instead, he tried to smile, and felt it come out as a wince instead. “He’s very private.”

Charles scowled. “Yeah, obviously. You don’t even know his name. He can’t be that good of a friend if he’s too busy to see you more than once a century.”

Hob couldn’t see the expression on his own face, but he saw Charles’ shocked reaction well enough. It was so long ago for him, and still Hob knew at once what Charles saw now: that first time you manage to visibly hurt a grown-up’s feelings, people who seemed too old and too stern to actually feel pain, when you’d been going around kicking at them like a new foal, just to stretch your legs.

“Sorry,” said Charles, instant regret chasing his surprise. He was a good kid.

“It’s alright,” said Hob. He meant it. He looked down at the shining bartop. His hands were restless with the urge to light a cigarette. He gave in. It wasn’t like Charles would be dying of lung cancer any time soon if he decided to follow Hob’s example. “I don’t think he would say he’s very good at being a friend either. Truth is, I’d love to see him more often. But we had an awful fight the last time we met. If he forgives me, I’ll have to ask.”

“Mates always make up,” said Charles earnestly. He was such a good kid.

“I suppose they do.” Charles still looked sorry, and Hob clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey. Thanks for looking out for me, Charles.”

Charles beamed at him. “Always. We’ve got your back, me and Edwin.”

---

Charles couldn’t bloody believe it. Hob’s friend was here. There was nobody else it could be. He and Edwin were watching from a nearby table, pretending to be absorbed in their own conversation. Neither man noticed them. They were too busy looking at each other.

He couldn’t imagine spending more than a century apart from Edwin. The way Hob had talked about him and his stranger over the years, it sometimes seemed like they were best mates too, no matter how little they saw each other. He was dead sure that’s what had Hob looking so gutted when he thought nobody was looking. He had known they would make up, though. Maybe now Hob would be happier.

“Charles, we really ought not eavesdrop,” hissed Edwin. Right as he scooted his chair closer, the cheeky hypocrite. Hob and his friend were talking too quietly to properly hear, their heads bent together. Lots to catch up on, Charles reckoned. A hundred years. He couldn’t stop thinking about the number. It seemed impossible. Funny, he couldn’t imagine that long away from Edwin, but he could imagine spending that long being best mates. There was nobody he’d rather hide from Death with.

Hob’s face was doing something strange as his long-lost friend talked. Then Hob moved and grasped him by the shoulders, so tight that his knuckles stood out in relief. The man said something in low tones and Hob shook his head, and then pulled him in for a hug. The man stiffened and then relaxed, and his arms came up around Hob’s.

Their cheeks both looked wet.

Charles swallowed and it felt suddenly a little like he was choking. He should look away, only he couldn’t.

“They must be great friends,” said Edwin softly.

“Yeah,” he managed to croak. We won’t ever need to have a reunion like this because I’m never going to lose you, mate. I won’t let them take you. It was stuck behind the phantom lump in his phantom throat. His hand, without him telling it to, reached out and grabbed hold of Edwin’s. Edwin squeezed it hard, and Charles knew he didn’t have to make his voice work after all.

Then the man pushed Hob away, but only far enough to grab his face and pull him back again, thumbing over Hob’s cheeks, and beside him, Edwin honest-to-god gasped, and then Charles momentarily forgot how thoughts worked too.

---

It happens thus: in the New Inn, just next door to the White Horse, some 639 years after they first met, Hob Gadling and Dream of the Endless share their first kiss. Neither, if they had bothered to think about it, would have intended to have an audience, but it’s a well-known fact that some kisses cannot wait, and theirs was chief among them, being that it had so much to say, and was so very long overdue.

I missed you, it said, and I came back, it said, and Please don’t go away from me again, and I could not.

And atop them, like blankets, were laid invisible the daydreams of those who saw them, including two long-dead boys, whose dreams were woven from the fresh and unaccounted-for possibilities of Hob kissing his mysterious stranger. Another man, thought Edwin. His best friend, thought Charles. Dream was the only one who could have heeded this, but he did not, because Hob Gadling was holding him tight and daydreaming loudly of this kiss and more, of this today and tonight and tomorrow, ever greedy and ever easily pleased, and Dream could hear nothing at all over their clamouring and comingled joy; the bright gold daydream between the scant space of their bodies that sounded so much like at last.

[pjs-everyday]

lol still working on this but thanks for the iiiiideaaaaaa 😇 // request: keigo & fuyumi WIP

[antoine-triplett]

@rwrbmovie & @rwrbsource’s rwrbweek:

Day 4 | Little Detail - Continuous Shots

[brofightiscancelled]

i also wanted to do the template

[qronost]

What is wrong with them

[chippdhearts]

CRIME SHOW MEME (CSI EDITION) ☆ [1/5] Dynamics ↳ OTP : Catherine Willows and Sara Sidle

[daeneryseastar]

“alicent making homophobic remarks the night of laena’s funeral isn’t cool considering laenor was shown to be heavily grieving his sister and didn’t deserve to be attacked during it (not to mention it was an obvious ploy on alicent’s part to divert attention from her committing literal treason).”

“b-bUT WHAT ABOUT DAEMON AND RHAENYRA FUCKING-“

i’m not gonna lie i don’t particularly care that they had sex that night. was it disrespectful? for sure. did it harm anyone for them to do it? it, in fact, did not. two consenting adults having sex away from prying eyes and keeping to themselves < an entitled boy purposely calling a girl at her mother’s funeral (whom he had never interacted with before) a pig and ridiculing her grief. laena’s storyline was cut short because the writers decided she wasn’t important enough to make into a proper character that isn’t at the mercy of other characters (it’s something i’m forever going to be salty about, daemon and rhaenyra loved her with all their hearts and were absolutely devastated when she passed) but out of those two scenarios who do you think she would be more upset with?

the people who bring this up in retaliation cannot handle alicent taking any criticism whatsoever. in all honesty i wouldn’t even care if her fans would just say ‘yeah, it was shitty. don’t really care though.’ it would at least save me the time of reading think piece after think piece on why alicent deserved to get her lick back against rhaenyra for her lot in life (caused by otto and viserys) by focusing on her pain rather than her son’s. these are the same people who try to claim that most of rhaenyra’s children and step children secretly hate her, due to wanting ‘complex and nuanced relationships’ to occur (they actually also can’t handle that rhaenyra was a great mom all around to all of her kids, and that maybe they need to be focusing those feelings on the green kids with their parents instead). let’s be serious for just one moment: it makes more sense that the children who were neglected by one parent and abused by the other having complicated familial feelings than children who were (for the most part) raised in a relatively stable and loving environment.

[pinkeoni]

I have a selfish request/proposal for a conflict in s5: what if they put a strain on Joyce and Will’s relationship.

Joyce is Will’s most solid support system on the simple basis that she is his mother, and we’ve seen how much the two love each other before. So it might be interesting if there was tension between them.

Maybe Will “everybody treats me like a baby” Byers starts pulling away from her, possibly out of teen angst/supernatural influences, and maybe it’s a little cliché but Joyce just wants her baby boy back and can’t understand why their dynamic is changing.

And THEN we throw in Will heading back to the Upside Down, something that is needed for him to come of age, and Joyce who is trying desperately to get her son back on mulitple levels. Except this time the thing seperating Joyce from Will is Will himself, and it may not end with the two of them having the exact same dynamic they had in season 2.

Not saying that this WILL happen or that it’s the CORRECT option but idk, I think after two seasons of seperating Joyce from her boys and centering her story around Hop, it might be refreshing to see her put focus back on her boys (including Jonathan!) again in a way we may not have seen before.

[good-wine-and-cheese]

There exists in my brain a collection of characters that belongs to a loose, cross-fandom polycule/adventuring party and this is the current roster

[vos-videmus]

Why couldn't we grow old together

[wereoz]

rewatching b99 has me absolutely obsessed with rosa and charles relationship. their friendship is very special bc obviously they almost went out together and then it didn’t work out bc rosa didn’t like his timidity or how that made him treat her but i like how that allowed them to be where they are in now where its like. they are cut out of completely different material but charles respects her and finds her amazing and doesn’t hesitate to talk to her & rosa is always very mindful of his feelings, avoiding him when he was on pain meds to make sure she didn’t have to reject him if he told her he liked her, showing him the secret bathroom, being the one to say to everyone they should take care of him after vivian broke off the engagement

[mbbookblr]

"It was too bad people couldn't know their parents before they were born—they might forgive them more easily."

[notesbynor]

Okay i finally finished MisMag so i can have opinions on the discourse.

TLDR: good effort but could be better

They did a good job critiqueing HP from a world building POV, and a racial diversity POV with most of the people on the table and the PCs being POC

But i think the main/loudest problem about JKR more than anything is that she's a proud TERF. They should've adressed that by having actual trans main characters and people on the table (i know Erika is trans, but Dream/K themself didnt even consider being trans until the final episode).

They can do better than just saying "fuck TERFs" by actually having trans representation especially transfem rep which i KNOW dropout has (Persephone is RIGHT THERE)

And like, even the cis players can choose to have trans characters (like Oscar Montoya playing Rue in ACOFAF) but no they just chose to make cis characters.

It's kinda sad because i KNOW what dropout is capable of in terms of representation and inclusion. They do care about representation and i know that. But at the end of the day i think MisMag kinda falls short on that aspect.

[aprilblossomgirl]

"The name of this series is We Are. “We” means all of us. I’m telling you, there are a lot of people in our gang. But the good thing about this is that we’re always lively on set. It’s enjoyable. We’re so full of energy." (Satang) "Being with a gang of friends in this series is amusing. I have never been in the scenes with this many friends and enjoyed it this much before. I think this vibe will shine when the viewers watch these scenes on screen." (Phuwin) "The difficult part about filming this series was mainly when all of them gathered together. Directing with 12 boys together in the same scene could be extraordinarily tough. Every character had his own lines to speak, so the filming was pretty difficult as the cameras had to film all of them." (P'New)

We Are the Beginning ก่อนเรารักกัน

[maddymoreau]