#lushing Lou

[mimisempai]

Yeah, tell them Lou...

[writing-for-life]

Sandman Comics Re-Read

Issue 13: Men of Good Fortune

We pulled up this issue for our community discussion early so we can start with the rewatch of episode 6 (“The Sound of her Wings”) today. If you are looking for the corresponding reread of issue 8, you can find it here.

This is an issue full of historical references, and it was great to look at it from this angle. If you’d like to read all contributions or would like to join us—we’d love to have you!

As usual, here are my contributions for later reference (the summary came from @tickldpnk8 this week):

[merinsedai]

Day 13- Lovely Ladies

From the sandtober prompts by @orionsangel86 thank you ☺️

Silly little sketch featuring Gault, Lushing Lou, Death of the Endless, and Calliope.

Found this difficult 😅. Noses, how? Hair? Oh shading… what’s that?

[malakaiiswriting]

Stay By My Side | L. Tomlinson

A/N | Hi, I'm Malakai! I've never written about real people properly before, and wanted to give it a go. Since the passing of Liam Payne, bless him, my childhood obsession band, One Direction has become a new fixation, so why not try my most admired member? Thanks for reading, my lovelies <3

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Summary | Louis and Y/N have been together for quite a few years, engaged, with the soon to be Mrs. Tomlinson pregnant. They go on a night out with the band and a couple others, only for Y/N's adhd to become distracted, and leading herself and sister away from the group.

Warnings | Sexual harassment. Over-protective Louis. Possessive Louis. Cigarettes. Alcohol consumption. Adhd and autistic aspects (I have adhd and autism, comfort >) not proof read :|

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"Stay by my side." Louis had always been wary of you're attention span in crowded places, how your anxiety can cause your brain to wonder, and you end up going off left while he is still walking forward. He guided you, and often helped you find coping skills to keep you in sight within public spaces. He loved you too much to allow you to face the challenges alone, and you loved him for it.

"I know Lou, I'll do my best. You got my location?" You and Louis after your first year together added each to Life 360, giving a good idea of where the other was, and making it easier for phone calls when he is touring, so you could see if he was on the road. Or in a plane. And he could often check if you have left him to go into a quiet cafe, or book store. Or just a simple shop that caught your attention and you forgot to mention it to him.

He held your hand as you left your shared apartment complex, feeling the flow of her thighs length black dress dance around your skin from the light breeze, tickling the gasp in your fishnets. Louis loved your style, edgy, but but cute, with lush pale blushed skin, and nice thick eyeliner, making your almond shaped orbs really pop. "Niall is bring Emily, so you get to see your sister too!"

Niall Horan and your sister, Emily met two years ago when she joined you to Louis birthday get together with close family and friends. They got on like a flurried love at first sight. "Yay, need to nag her about visiting mother with me." you chuckled gently, kissing Louis knuckles as he helped you into the taxi, shutting your door and making his way to the other side. Your hand found it's way to your stomach, a four month old pregnancy slowly showing through, and you wanted to surprise you're mother with the news sooner rather than later, with your sister and Louis. The band knew of it.

The taxi pulled from the curb and Louis hand was quick to be placed over top of yours, feeling the small bump forming, singing softly. "So excited." He grinned, sky orbs lighting up at the thoughts of seeing you in that hospital gown, holding your little bundle of joy within a blue or pink blanket, your hair sweaty and down, loose, messy, eyes tired, yet full of love.

"As am I. Will have to get them a one direction onesie." You teased the band member, who's eyes rolled, leaning over to place a kiss upon your cheek and moving your hand over to his thigh, holding it there. The drivers eyes focused on the road ahead, city lights of London gleaming down on you and the Yorkshire male through the black tinted windows. Eyes eyes, slightly hazy from nerves of going out in a crowded area, glimmered at the sights of Halloween decoration plastered around, with cute pumpkins, and green witches on brooms.

It made you excited for when your little one would arrive into this world, to explore, to play and to be protected, and grow up loved.

The cab pulled up next to a night club and Louis paid and left the car, coming around to you're side and helping you out, slinging your arm with his. "Cheers mate." you both waved the driver off, then entered the club, music filling you're ears like a needle pierce to you're eardrums. Suddenly, arms engulphed you from the side and a small gasp left you're lips, Louis arm tightening around yours until you're sisters voice filled you're ears.

"Eeee! Haven't seen you in a while!" she giggled as your arm left Louis to wrap around you're sisters torso, pulling her close. She worked as a fashion designer, so travel was normal for Emily. You were an author, so you didn't have to travel, but often you'd join the band on their tours and what not.

"Hi! Love your hair!" you complimented her as Niall walked over with Liam and Harry, leaving Zayn to buy the drinks from across the room. After greeting with the other, including Liam gifting you a gift as a congratulation on the pregnancy, you all made you're way over to Zayn at the bar, merging through herds of people dancing. Or, spotting the boys and squealing excitedly. However, guards were spaced around to ensure nothing would happened to them.

The night was going well, the boys sat at the bar chatting, while Emily had somehow managed to drag you're shy ass onto the dance floor, moving together with many chuckles and shakingly taken selfies together with silly and cute snapchat filters. "We still need to visit mom, you know?" you bought up, making the girl before you groan, sipping from her tequila.

"You can't keep avoiding it, Em. She misses you." you could remember the argument Emily and your mother had many months ago, the screaming, the slamming of doors, and Louis arms protecting you from the loud noises that were becoming increasing overstimulating.

"I know, I know.." she replied while your lips met the rim of the glass of your pink lemonade Louis brought you. "I just.. ugh, come to the bathroom." she took your spare hand, pulling you with her. Your eyes flashed to Louis, his back towards you, being dragged into a selfie with Liam and Harry. He wasn't controlling, no, but just liked to know if you were to the toilet or not, mostly to keep an eye on you're drink to save having to take it with you.

As the girls to the women's toilets close, the break from blasting music became a blessing, hearing it in the background, with ringing from you're eardrums. "Look, I've tried calling mom,, but she won't bloody answer me." Emily explained, "You know she's petty, and I just can't handle that. I've apologized for what I did, and she won't meet me halfway."

You understood, your mother had always been that way really, never truly taking blame for anything she ever did. "I know Em... but maybe if we both go there? I could always have a word with her?" Emily reached over, brushing your fringe behind your ear and smiling softly.

"You shouldn't have to do that though. One, you're my baby sister,, it should be me caring for you. And two, I don't want you to feel the wrath of our mother over something that isn't your fault." she thought for a moment, finishing her drink and casually leaving the glass on the sink side. "Look, if we both go, I'll try okay? But I'm staying in a hotel?"

You accepted her offer grinning happily and joining her for a few mirrors selfies before you both walked back to the main club room. But there was a problem. The boys weren't anywhere in sight. Or more, between you're sister being almost drunk, and you not remembering where the bar actually was, you both ended going the wrong way, now finding a different side of the club, more filled with large men watching the football and playing darts.

"Oops,, wrong side. Come on." Emily grasped you're wrist, but another voice interrupted you both, a large barrel chest blocking you're way from going back down the hall towards the bathrooms.

"Where are yer' two pretty things goin'?" a faint accent, possibly scouse and suddenly, just from the look of this mans dirty beard, and bad beer smell, you felt something was off. Emily, being the brave one of the two of you, answered how she usually would, placing herself in-between the both of you, looking up at him fearlessly.

"Back to our boyfriends, and friends. Excuse you." Emily shoved her way passed him, but as she tried to pull you, he got back in the way, causing her grip on your hand to break and leave. "Hey, move your ass." she spat, while the other men in this quieter, more duller side of the bar just turned their heads blindly, as the barmen was not there, possibly grabbing more bottles from the backroom.

Your heart began to pound, wishing you had just paid attention. Curse it. Feeling your eyes sting, you attempted to soft talk this man. "Please, can I get passed you, sir?" you're gentle tone and doe like eyes allured him, and he advanced towards you, still keeping you're sister blocked who began to panic, pushing on his shoulder.

"Dude, shift it!" she commanded, but he just ignored her, eyes glued to yours.

"Mm.. let me buy yer' a drink first, babe, then yer' can go, hm?" he grinned at you, that strong, god awful beer smell coming from his mouth. You could feel you're hands beginning to shake, becoming overstimulated and honestly quite annoyed. Slowly, you placed you're drink down on the side, making sure both hands were free to use, however, unlike your sister, fit and carrying quite a good hair of fists, you did not.

"Sir, please, I..I need the toilet." purposely, you placed you're left hand over you're small bump, but it only made him smirk wider, eyes moving to the clearage of you're breasts from the lowish cut dress. He shook his head, pointing to a different women's toilets on the other side of the room you where in.

"Go over there, bird." Bird. You hated that term. And apparently so did Emily as she smacked the back of his hand, and you could see his fists balling.

"Get. The fuck. Out. Of. Her. Way." Emily's voice was threatening, but not as threatening and as the three other men who crowded around you. An idea came to mind, and you looked over at you're sister, her eyes meeting yours.

"Em." you spoke, and she shook her head at you, but you nodded back. 'Get the boys' you mouthed silently, and she frantically shook her head, but you nodded again. "Please." you spoke, making the men's heads look down towards you. Emily practically groaned, and quickly moved back,, pulling out her phone and frantically searching for a phone number, while the men's attention fell back onto you.

"Want us to yer'self girl?"

"What's your name?"

"Where you from? Lovely voice." all of them were scousers, except one with more on a London accent, and quickly you felt small, reaching into you're purse in search of you're phone. However, a large hand on you're shoulder made you flinch, and you quickly gasped, turning around to face the other three men.

"Go on babe, you said you needed the loo,, didn't you?" he smirked, a smell of whiskey hitting your nostrils. Your world began to spin, and you could see your sister hurriedly walking back towards the girls toilets belonging to then nightclub. You realized there was probably no service, and she was going to fetch a guard close by, but was there really enough time?

Another hand came, grasping your chin and suddenly a small tear fell down your face, causing one of the men to coo at you. 'Where the hell is the barman?' came to mind, before an idea sprung, a stupid idea, but an idea no less. Quickly, you ran towards the women's toilets, the smell absolutely awful and quickly locked the front of the door, eyes scanning all three stalls for any windows.

However, with your ears ringing, lips trembling, knees becoming jelly, and mind spinning with a thousand questions of 'why me?', 'where's Emily?', 'I want Louis.' you just could not focus. Loud bangs came from the other side. "Unlock the door, bird."

"Come on, we ain't gonna hurt ya." You covered you're ears, sinking down to the fall and crying into you're knees, breathing quickly and envisioning just what would happen if they managed to bang down the door. They definitely weren't far off, as you spotted the rusted lock. The door rattled against you're back, and you could feel you're feet becoming numb with pins and needles beneath you. "Louis... please..." you hushed softly to yourself, needing your fiancé, you're comfort person.

Another bang, now the barman's voice could be heard faintly, asking them what they were doing. They lied, saying "Sorry mate, me' wife's gone and got mad at me. She's locked herself in. Come on, bird, come out please." his tone, holding a tone of threat yet fake love, came through, while you could feel the pit in you're stomach growing. Those chicken wraps you and Louis ate earlier threatening to make a reappearance alongside the pink lemonade, and non alcoholic gin you had.

"Louis... Zayn.. anyone.." you mumbled, the lock rattling with each bang on a large fist. This is what you did to yourself, you thought, your the one who forgot which way the bloody nightclub was from the run down pub behind it. Curse you. Fuck you. You could feel yourself crumbling into tiny pieces. Louis told you to stay in sight, he told you to tell him when you were going to the toilet.

"Stay by my side.'' replayed in your mind, more tears flowing down you're face, heart clenching. As soon as this lock broke, it was over. any things could happen, so long as that barman didn't believe you're tears were cause by these men, not by one of them being 'Husband'.

"Louis.." you sobbed. Then suddenly, voices. Many voices. Guards, Louis's voice, Emily, Niall, Liam, Harry, Zayn. They had come You could hear the guards taking the men away by force, while Louis's voice, full of rage basically growled at the barmen, asking where the hell you were.

Emily however, knocked on the locked bathroom door. "Y/N?" she asked, and as much as you wanted to speak, you couldn't, that urge to become you're overestimated nonverbal self taking over in one of the worst possible moments ever. So, quickly, you knocked twice on the door. Then again a second time. A knock you always did on you're sisters front door when visiting.

"She's in here!"

"Y/N? Y/N, open the door, baby! It's me!" Louis banged on it a couple times, and a few from the lock fell, making a sharp noise against the dirty concrete floor. That broke you, realizing just close those men were from breaking in. Slowly you moved, standing to you're feet and cracking the door open, peeking out with red, puffy orbs. Louis basically crashed into you, almost knocking the pair of you over if it wasn't for you're hand gripping the door handle, as he forced you into his chest, head burying into his neck.

His arms caved you in, being only a couples inches taller them you, and you welcomed it completely, breathing in his scent and warmth. Niall's hand found you're shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze, his other arm around you're trembling sisters shoulders. "I got you... bloody hell, I got you..." you could feel him shaking, from anger,, from fear. It felt awful to make him feel that way simply because you forgot.

Suddenly you pushed you away, but grasped you're cheeks in his palms. "I-I told you to stay by my side! Where- what?" the panic in his tone caused more tears to fall from you're eyes. Harry tried to calm him down, but suddenly Louis moved the pair of you further into the bathroom, and shut the door, gently pushing you against it.

"What even.. you know what- I- ugh..." he buried his face into the crook of you're neck, holding you closely to him and taking in you're perfume. His lips met your skin, kissing up your neck and feeling the taste of you're tears of his buds. "Doesn't fucking matter, tell me later. Just let me.."

You welcomed him, parting your thighs in order to give the man space to possess you, the comfort of his mouth sucking in your skin and marking it purple. "Mine.. fuck sake... why couldn't you listen to me...? Trying to give me a heart attack.." he mumbled against your jaw, coming up and catching your lips before your mind could even think of a reply. His tongue swiped across your bottom lip and you gladly gave him access, needing to erase where those men touched you. Said to you. Intended to do to you."

It seems Mr. Tomlinson read your mind, grumbling against you, "Where did they touch you...?",, and your eyes gestured to your shoulder,, which he quickly followed. "Shoulder's? Yeah darlin'? Okay.." he moved down the left strap of your dress, kissing across the skin, and nipping at it gently, his hands moving to hold your, rubbing your knuckles soothingly. "No need to talk, love, just show me." he knew you so well, and made you feel safe.

He moved to your other shoulder lowering the straps and placing soft kisses and nips across the tender skin making the shaking of both your bodies, drowning out all the words those men said to you, all the times they laid their dirty fucking fingers on you. He moved back to face you, redoing your dress straps and cupped the back of your head, playing with a few strand of hair.

"Now, you and I, are going home. First, you having something to eat, baby needs growing after all that stress, and then secondly, I am going to completely erase those fucking bastards from you." he then glanced around at the space you both stood in. "And before all that, we're takin' a goddamn shower." you could only nod, clinging to his arm as he began to open the bathroom door.

"Stay by my bloody side."

"I know, my love.." you whispered, placing a kiss to his cheek, letting him guide you.

[avelera]

"Nice is Different than Good" Character Interpretation: Hob Gadling as Kind of a Bastard

Ok, slightly controversial take on Hob Gadling Is Kind of a Bastard that I've been toying with. It runs counter to some wonderful let me be clear, amazing fanon I've seen in some fics, so this is much more me going, "Hey, here's a way to do it different that might work better in different stories fan writers might want to tell," and not to invalidate other takes or even to put forth that I think this is necessarily true of Hob in a meta sense, it's just shining a light on the text from a different direction, y'know?

Hob as Neutral Evil (credit to Winter on the big dreamling server for this concept!)

I'm obsessed with the idea that Hob is neutral evil on ye olde D&D alignment chart because it makes so much sense if the axis for evil is primarily based on selfishness.

Primary evidence? How casually he talks in 1489 about having done a bit of soldiering and banditry. Those jobs are about killing people. Maybe not all the time as a bandit, ideally, but even then it's about taking their stuff. There is absolutely zero remorse in Hob's tone about being a soldier and a bandit just because he's at his most wide-eyed innocent and has since picked up a trade.

Hob as Politically Conservative until at least 1789 but possibly until 1989

Hob as far as I can tell is a model of the white male middle class existence in England throughout what we define as more or less the "modern era". As far as I can tell, there's no indication at any point prior to 1789 that Hob rocked the boat or was at all out of step with the Powers That Be.

In general, I kind of see Hob as always just this side of the "wrong side of history" and I personally find it more interesting when that's where we find him. And not in a grand sense but in a "middle of the road" sense of just going along with the day to day accepted levels of harm and evil caused by societal momentum. Generally speaking, only a very small percentage of the population takes active part in moving the needle towards good at any given time on a variety causes, and I tend to see Hob is generally speaking outside of all those minorities of do-gooders, except when it comes to taking care of his immediate friends and family. Which is a pretty average place to be.

Indeed, when it comes to the Wat Tyler rebellion, it's my personal headcanon that Hob was more likely on the side of the soldiers putting DOWN the rebellion on behalf of the local lords, and unlikely to have been interested in or part of the cause of greater equality in England. The fact he's a soldier drinking with his mates openly in a tavern when people around him are talking about Wat Tyler and he's blithely ignoring the discussion is where I get that sense.

Indeed, I believe (though I don't know where to cite it, even in the English Civil Wars, Hob was canonically on the side of the monarchy. So jot that down as Hob being pro-monarchy.

While, yes, I believe post 1789 he learned to be less of a piece of shit about taking active part if horrific industrial-level cruelty, I don't see evidence he became a superhero after that. The one bit of "on the page"altruism we see from him is him flipping a coin to Lushing Lou and telling an obvious alcoholic to go get a drink so she stops pestering his friend by offering herself to him as a prostitute, something Hob seems entirely comfortable with.

In 1989 when Hob gets out of his sleek convertible, dressed like a stock trader, he uses the Financial Times to shield himself from the rain, a periodical that apparently was just lying around in his car. As tempting as it would be to say it's to somehow show off to Dream, he has no reason to believe Dream would come back to his car so more likely, it's just something for himself.

All of these put together show me on the page that Hob stayed pretty fixated on making money even after deciding and coming to regret being part of the "shipping business".

And to be clear, we don't actually know when Hob quit the shipping business. Personally, I like to think he did it right after Dream asked, but that's a romantic take and deliberately so. Hob having the opinion by 1889 that slavery is wrong is not necessarily a progressive take by then. Regardless, even if in 1789 he learned it was wrong, that still puts him just slightly ahead of the curve, philosophically speaking.

If we pull in comic canon we do know Hob was ahead of the curve on feminism by 1912 in Hob's Leviathan but again, women would get the right to vote by 1918/1928 in England after the issue had been discussed for at least a century (keep in mind, male Catholics couldn't vote in England until the early 1800s) so again this puts him as palatable to modern readers but not necessary terribly ahead of the curve.

Now, let me also be clear, where Hob is at in 2022 is anyone's guess. Personally I think Dream not showing up in 1989 was a second wakeup call for Hob. If he'd drifted back towards selfish hedonism by 1989, as his whole vibe suggests, he might very well have looked in the mirror and thought, "What if this is why my stranger stayed away?"

We know he becomes a teacher. That probably would go a long way towards changing his politics. We know he's a history teacher, so now he's got the long view. He's spending time in academia, which tends to lean left. My point is, Hob in 2022 is anyone guess and I think there's a lot of evidence and word of god evidence that he's become a Good Person by then, but I also think it's the 1989 meeting that jumpstarted him being Good and not just Nice. Because I do think Hob throughout all these periods of being morally a bastard was always good to the people close to him in his life. I think he was a good friend and a good husband and would have been a good friend to Dream had he allowed it. And that's what I enjoy most, that he could be both of those things, Nice and Not Good.

Hob as non-religious

I admit, this one is very near and dear to my heart for personal reasons of identifying as an atheist when it comes to Christianity and being a lifelong skeptic of Catholicism for the brief time I was technically a member of that organization (all of which while I was a minor). To be clear there is just as much evidence to say Hob is any number of religious alignments as there is that he has none. It's a totally personal choice by any author, I'm just outlining my evidence for why I write him as effectively an atheist.

The Black Death is considered the period that broke the spine of the Catholic church as a monolith in Europe. All the good priests who did their duty taking care of people and giving last rites died leaving only the ones who fled or were young, with tons of money given to the church because of all the rampant death.

Hob would have been born into an era that was particularly rife with both fanaticism and anti-church sentiment. There was a lot of evidence abounding that being a good Christian just got you killed.

Given Hob is a soldier drinking with his mates 1389, I don't see much evidence of him being particularly devout there. No less so in 1489, by the way. Not saying there's evidence against it, just that there's no evidence for it and indeed, societally there's justification for him to not be devout given the century he was born.

1589 I'd say we've got some evidence Hob isn't devout: he seems unperturbed by King Henry's ransacking of the monasteries. Politically speaking, if Hob is a New Man, he might have even benefited from that ransacking personally. In my personal view, Hob is an opportunist and most likely converted to Church of England at the earliest possible opportunity to curry favor with the Powers that Be. I don't personally see him as someone who would bother pretending to be Protestant while continuing to practice Catholicism, because:

Why would Hob bother to be faithful at all? He can't die. The #1 reason to be devout is to avoid Hell or get into Heaven. Hob has clearly chosen the secular world as the only Heaven he cares about. He says that his current life is what, "He once thought Heaven would be like" and it's a very secular vision of good food and safe streets. He does not appear to be pining at all for any spiritual version of Heaven and indeed, speaks of Heaven as a dream only in the past tense.

Personally, by 1689, I think Hob has plenty of reasons to hate God after what he's suffered and the fact he's still not interested in dying to me seems a pretty strong indication that he does not hold romantic views of the afterlife.

Finally, for 1789 to the present, there was absolutely a class of gentleman who were progress minded, obsessed with technology and the Age of Reason. Many American Founding Fathers were self-proclaimed deists, basically a safe form of atheism that said eh, yes God exists and is out there and we owe him some deference, but he doesn't impact day to day life and we can safely ignore him most of the time. Personally, and this is pure headcanon, I put Hob in that group cheerfully ignoring religion and never looking back because he's more interested in the new technologies of the day and not the crusty old church.

We also know, canonically, that at least in 1789, Hob does not consider himself Jewish.

And of course, we can't forget: Hob has evidence that the Christian cosmology is wrong, somehow, given his stranger and his own immortality.

Frankly, given that Hob appears on the page to be a hedonist with no fear of dying, it's interesting to speculate on what his moral boundaries would be at all coming from a world where Heaven and Hell were the primary means of moral social control. It is possible to speculate that Hob could have gone completely off the rails as far as worrying about his soul for a bit there, other than thinking he's already sold it, which could go either way as far as trying to redeem himself but again, he speaks casually of being a soldier and a bandit, so it doesn't sound like if he worried about his soul being sold already, he thought there was anything that could be done to redeem it.

[cosyvelvetorchid]

It’s Christmas Eve and I’m enjoying my annual tradition of my favourite Lush bathbomb, whilst writing bucktommy Serendipity Ch 5.

Can’t get a better Christmas Eve* than that! 🩶

*Unless Lou posts something!

**Also those are my actual real life legs!

[wolf-and-raven-dreaming]

I am so in love with the warm colors you use in Hob scenes. It is so... well warm, but also nice and cozy and feels secure and welcoming. I just... I love it. I've been staring at the new post for so long, every time I open it I just get all nice and warm. It's so good.

Hob, to me, feels like that one guy in your family or circle that doesn't judge you or make you feel like utter crap. That guy who makes you feel better no matter the circumstances you find yourself in.

The guy lived a long time. You can tell when he discusses with Dream about Lushing Lou that he is seeing things differently. His arc is fascinating.

[salmoncakepls]

A meal to remember. @iwtvfanevents

During the past year I have read and interacted with some of the most creative and talented writers. It astounds me the amount of skill that is in this fanspace and for this meal to remember I wanted to highlight some of my favorite writers and give them their well deserved flowers

Overview: With this fanspace I have traveled through many different universes, explored characters through an analytical lens that parallels the show itself, enjoyed these stories in fun, wholesome*, and interesting ways ! I have seen such beautiful creativity and I wanted to highlight some of my favorite fic writers and really delve into what I enjoy so so much about their writings in no particular order xoxo 

@nakiaslilhoodoo | SnakesandRabbits

Your fics are truly like comfort food to me like I love sitting down after a long day and reading like truly sweet stuff. A lift truly did give me that christmassy feeling during the holidays. It’s stuff like that that makes you say aw this is sweet you know, like matched with Then Leave like yess innovative trans lou / Lily I love that so so much. And we also have comedic aspects in em’ too which I love how your fics never fail to make me smile-- I remember getting giddy at the Chess series (I was like oo what’s coming next like I loved the lil beef its just very fun). Ohh and I cannot forget to mention The Time We Have which is quite beautiful. I like the calm of it, yes I can feel the fresh morning itself--it's just like the little things you know, those little moments are oh so lovely. 

@blacclotusss | BlaccLotuss

I love how you explore Jonah and Louis’ relationship like ion see much of it but you’re my go to in these especially alternate realities. Like the sweetness is off the charts in your fics and I love the fluffiness and how you branch out into that mix-medianess in Come Home to Me and your exploration of that sweet parts of Claudia and Louis together through Letters* .  Also woahh just god the sweetness in Sexual Immorality I love how you write Louis and Armand together, dialogue is just so so nice.  And the roleplay in the ending like oop you never fail to like get me with endings like reminding me of how shocked I was of Charred’s  ending, just so good and so insane. I loved the gothic fluff of that one itself, woah. 

@blueiight | southernhummingbird

Poeticism in unimaginable ways, you really have it.  I remember first reading rhododendron and like just the feeling was of an instrument the way your words just literally string me along. And then it’s like you pull out bangers after bangers in the delta breeze [dare to breathe] it’s nostalgic, beautiful, lush and heart wrenching all at once, again the words strung me along so perfectly. Lipstick traces is so so vivid and I love the story being told here, you pack so much in small sections it’s so astounding and inspiring to me < 3

@dictee | boltcutters 

I remember first reading dirges and oh my god not only are you somewhat of a prophet but you enraptured me into the beauty of your writing. It had lead me to the first taste  just quite beautiful it feel like a page ripped out of season two... and l just love how evocative it is. I also feel like I’ve gone on and on to you personally about how astounded I am by i am amazed by peace just dyke loumand is presented so so gorgeously--you’re writing in this reminds me of a past memory. It is so absolutely insane how you display your writing chops just so wonderfully. 

@knifeeater | serpentskirts

You have the type of writing style that makes everything so so beautiful. I think the romantic-eroticism in each of your stories are just shown in such a beautiful rhythmic way like in  perpetuum mobile and also in glass--which when I read it I feel like I got so caught up in your words it’s like your descriptions are consuming me. 

@enterprisery| flowerplots

Your writing feels like calm, the way your words are given to me. Like even in your erotic gore ( your heart inside my chest ) it feels like I’m just taking a breath-- and speaking of which breath, held  just displays that your creativity knows no bounds, in every fic you write it just fits so perfectly for these characters and it’s so wonderful how you write them in their descriptors (like in push too far --which btw I love the way it is formatted, so so unique) and in their dialogue (like in hunger )--it’s all so beautiful. 

@meastyeyes | meastyeyes

I really love Keep me Humming the fluffiness is really nice and I love how the vividness in it can match what we could see in the show. I enjoy how you show that love through Louis very very gorg the tension of it all amazing. 

@weather-mood | weathermood

All your stories have an air of magic in them like of course with your incredible list of fairytales The Princess and the Pea (aa louis princess moments I love) ,  Once Upon a Wine Dark Sea ( Which just fits so well--siren-vampirism yeah I love just seeing how you display these characters as different mythos, your universes are so out of this world it is amazing.),  and  rumplestiltskin (which  I remember when I first read you had that beautiful air of mystery in that beginning and to come to find out it was simply armanlou roleplaying antics--it kind of unlocked something in me) but also seeing that freshness and dreaminess that is featured in fairy tales also in your stories that are not necessarily based off of that (such as Train Tracks , Glass Coffins and Golden Roses, and mental topology experiments to the tune of bubblegum bitch ). Just an amazing selection of works--in your long fics they always keep me guessing where it’s gonna go and I love that. 

@nlbv | nlbv

Your writing is just so so amazing, descriptors off the charts I must start  with baby father in which you start off with me already visualizing everything. The mood is set in such a nostalgic way it’s vividness takes me into the scene. Exploration of Louis and Claudia is always so gorg and you do it so so wonderfully. And I remember, oh, I remember reading the different stories in Scenes From A Marriage how you can take moments from the canon out and expand upon it, keep the scene running all with gorgeous prose. 

@shewhomustbecalledking | dirtygoldensoul

a holy love is so so atmospheric I feel as if I am in the universe itself when I  read it. And I feel like that’s a common thread within your stories. Because whenever I always feel like I’m falling into the world whether it’s more grounded in the rivalry induced beautiful liars or being put into the true blood inspired Under the Blood Moon you just know how to create these worlds and quite wonderfully so. 

@devotiondroid | themasterletters

Your ability to put these characters in the show in different situations so eloquently is so so astounding to me. I remember when I’d first started reading your writings and seeing how the plot literally kept me guessing and it had done the same in cord of communion and especially in quizas (which, I am obsessed with to this day it has an amazing grasp on me). And the way your genres can shift and morph from wolfsbane to in a lonely place like it feels like you can do it all and still enrapture me--such beautiful prose and such an engaging writing style just fantastic. 

@diasdelfuego | gaypiratedivorce

Little Kidnaps was one of the first (if not the first) IWTV fic I have ever read so your writing instantly implemented a special place in my heart. And  this fic--and nox itself-- is something that I always kept going back to and rereading every other time it’d update or come to my mind. You have such a beautiful vision of the IWTV story itself (and the VC as a whole) and how you balance these characters is just so wonderful--it kept me reading in times I was deprived from the show. But your lovely writing does not stop there of course--I’ll let you win really is so so gorgeous wow like you got me with the noir setting and it astounds me how vivid you write it and also try to swallow the wave is so amazing as well from start to finish and your writings just do that certain amount of re-readability that I will always keep coming back to you.  

@iwtvdramacd18 | The_Lame_Goat

Your descriptions in stories are out of this world the tiptoeing between romance and horror and romance inside that very horror is very gorgeous--Lunacy is a great example of this, and the way it is set up in little fragments ( non- linear) it is just wonderful what you’re doing and continue to do. Prey Drive I feel like is also in this category and oh I do love me some prey drive (it’s one of those goat classics™ ) and I come back to it because it does pull me in with that chase with that hunt--just all of it is gorgeously written. I think what also just drives me to your writing is your characterization and I think in  Wolfkiller it is especially on display. I love how you write Claudia and the horror of Lestat --Wolfkiller never fails to make me say ‘You get it’ because you really do and it drives me insane. And of course special mention to To Pluck Gently At Strings it goes so hard I became a Armand/Nicki understander because of such vividness in the descriptors just great !

@kittyldpdl | kittyldpdl

I’m not sure if it was the night island  or bass in my body that I had first read but regardless I had been coerced by your writing. Like it is banger after banger with your fics, your prose so beautiful and it hypnotizes me into reading more and more. cleave/tie left me wondering what was next, left me thinking about it for days in and out and rereading it the effect just leaves me going back to it again.  And I know I’ve talked to you at length about your fics (lol when I was reading the bloody chamber I was like was that an #kittyldpdl reference ) but I feel as though I could go on and on about how amazing your prose is. Footfall had me again feeling that same way, falling in love with your writing again, making me curious about it all--mixture of the gore eroticism. Fantastic and inspiring all around ! 

Collaborations:

dirtygoldensoul x gaypiratedivorce Collab: 

And it’s quite amazing how both of yall can beautifully mesh their writings--this is displayed wonderfully in overlords I spent a whole day reading it and catching up on it, y’all writing combined truly encapsulates that air of mystery and a feeling of nostalgia (but in an ominous deja vu type of way). That just very thing entrances me immensely. 

MasterMood Universe:

It was a holiday season gift, it was a valentine's day gift--and it keeps on giving. Like it was insane from the start and you both, as I mentioned, have a feature in your writings where you cannot tell where its gonna go and it leaves you anticipating and excited to see what happens next. And of course bonus points because of how wholesome* the whole teachers’ pet series is. I  can tell y’all had so so much fun writing these stories because I can see it directly through the writing and it only added to my own enjoyment. 

weathermood x nlbv Collab: 

 Pirouette is an amazing look into Lily and like I love how yall take this little bit we have of her in the show and expound on her in such a complex way. I love in general just taking off little parts of the show and making more of it but this is next level--and y’all did it so wonderfully woah. 

The_Lame_Goat & kittyldpdl Collaboration:

Y’all writing together stuns me to the point of extreme amazement. The wrath  of the lamb has some of the most beautiful and addicting prose ever, and it is such a wonderful blend of y’all two it scares me !! The story and the words itself just absolutely wonderful--it’s the type of thing you have to read over again and slow to just get that feeling of when you’d first read it. So excited but apprehensive for the second chapter (PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE give me a warning before yall post it I need to mentally prepare and I dont wanna die !!!!! )

I want to specially mention ‘House’ which just shows the talent on full display at full force. Like in general I have never seen anything like it before--for starters just the immense collaboration between 7 people who are so dedicated to not only the show but their craft as well--and to do that and for it to flow so beautifully is absolutely both insane and amazing to me. The whole concept of the story being akin to like a game--trying to essentially escape the house, being forced back in and in turn being plunged into little scenes of the house itself--excerpts of the past through the overall horror element of the house itself. Going through hallways to try to complete it and find every bit of the house--it is so vivid in the way that the chapters are set up. When you get stuck you really feel stuck and the high emotive chapters really get you and then you’re pushed into a calm moment and everything feels okay or not quite right--I love the many many combinations of the ways you can go (how the house gets bigger so it feel like the possibilities truly are endless !).  I remember when I first read it and I was absolutely astounded. I felt every level of emotion, the happy, the sad, the nostalgia--just everything that makes the show the show is put into ‘House’ gracefully. Such a masterful collaboration, I wanna hang it up on my fridge. House inspired me to make D;I the way it is-- the interactiveness grabbed me and the story itself made me play along til’ the end (& again) and I will keep rereading until it consumes me whole. Mwah Everyone who wrote in it did such a lovely job even when I tried to look at a single chapter it entrances me and pushes me into reading the whole thing <3

That’s about it--I do feel like I missed a few fic writers ( but ofc if we ever have something like this again I’ll make a bigger list so I have more time~~)  I always try to comment on stuff I enjoy so just know I see ur talenttt & I see you. I just love the creativity in general and woah everyone is so so amazing 

[sweetbillwriting]

Love Just Happens

THE FINALE

Characters: The future's Bill Skarsgård and others close to him. The rest is my own characters.

Setting: This story is set in the future but because it's hard to say how the world is then (and it isn't that important for the story) the future is similar to our time now, even with fashion and so on.

Warnings: 18+, age difference, ageism.

Notes: Now is the time here to say goodbye to Bill and Aurora, my favorite fictional couple. I will miss them so much! Thank you for reading and following them in their long story!🩷

He knew who it was now. He knew who had betrayed them.

Bill sat in bed, looking at his cuticles without really taking in what he was looking at. He wasn't interested in his cuticles, just a place to rest his eyes. The clock was 6 AM, and he hadn't slept all night. He just looked at the inside of his eyelids, and now he needed some change, something else to look at while the thoughts and feelings pounded in his head.

He hadn't thought about anything else since he spoke to his manager. He just thought about the person who seemed to want to destroy their life. Sonny. One of Aurora's best friends. Bill hadn't liked him at all in the beginning. Every time he saw him, he just thought about all the attention-seeking things he had done to reach celebrity status. When he succeeded in pushing those thoughts away, he met a too big smile on Sonny’s face and a high pitched laugh. He couldn't see what Aurora saw in him, but he had proved himself to be a loyal friend over time. Or they had believed so until now.

If Bill put away all the good things he had learned himself to feel for Sonny, another person was left behind than the guy Aurora trusted. Left was just some vain guy, sitting on all of Aurora's secrets and a big loan for his studies. Bill scratched his cuticle with his thumb nail and sighed. He wished he had seen this coming, like he should have, but it was also understandable why he hadn't. Aurora really thought Sonny was her friend. Bill looked down at his wife, who lay facing him on her side of the bed, sleeping. Her hair was gathered in a long braid, but a third of it had loosened and laid as wild curls around her shoulders. She didn't know yet that her best friend had told all her secrets to the press. That one more of her friends had spit in her face to get what they wanted. His beautiful Lou, who never wanted any harm.

Bill crawled down next to her so he could lay with his face toward her and analyze her face. She wasn't just the most beautiful woman for him on the outside, but also on the inside. He wanted to protect her, save her from everything bad in the world, but he had been bad at that recently but would now see it as his most important mission. He never wanted to see her hurt again, but he knew that his first step on that mission was just that: to hurt her again. He needed to tell her about Sonny, and that would leave another bruise on her soul.

×××

Aurora looked sleepily up at her husband. He had woken her up with the soft vibration of his voice close to her face. She looked at his pouty lips and smooth skin and smiled a little. His mouth was the mouth of an angel’s. Lush, soft, and cherry red. She smiled a little and thought about kissing his lips, but the sleepiness fooled her to close her eyes and dream about them instead of tasting them for real.

“Lou? Lou?” Bill said softly again when she closed her eyes in a tired smile. He caressed her dark locks and put it behind her ear, then blew carefully on her eyelashes to irritate her just enough to wake up again. Aurora woke up again and answered by trying to wave him away, but Bill took her hand instead, and with a light pressure, forced her to give him attention.

“Babe, we must talk,” Bill said seriously, contrasting hard with the playful mood she had woken up in. She opened her eyes again and met his green stare. His serious face made her remember what was happening in their lives, and she understood it was more bad news.

“What have they written now?” She said lowly with her morning voice and looked down at their champagne-colored sheets. Bill continued to play with her curls, and licked his lips.

“They haven't written anything more, but I'm really sure I know who their source is…”

Aurora looked up at him curiously, but with a worry in her gut. What if it was someone who meant something to them? What if it was a relative to Bill?

“Sonny. It was Sonny,” said Bill shortly. He wanted to just put it on the table fast, there was no reason to not just give it to her fast, she would be sad anyway.

Aurora looked at him in silence and thought about her friend.

Sonny had come into her life while she was together with Mathias and their friendship had grown slowly. He hadn't forced himself on and had always seemed to have a real interest in being her friend. Of course she had noticed he liked being where things happen and that her new life as a mother was a bit of a disappointment, but it was just a part of his personality. He was social and extroverted, something she was too but had become a smaller, less important part of her life as a wife and mother.

Bill didn't say anything, just looked at his wife's face while she thought about what he had said. Their years together had taught her to think things through more closely than just act on her emotions. So many times had life been different than she had thought.

Aurora thought about Sonny's reaction when she was attacked, how worried he was, but also the times he had helped her with Isis. She thought about all their talks, the inside jokes, and the gossip. The gossip. He was an expert on gossip and craved it. It was he who had told her Bill had cheated on his older kids’ mother. He was the one she had told everything to about Bill and her because he could give her psychological advice. Bill and Mathias' first reaction to him. The rat comment. His stupid TikTok videos.

“Do you have any, like, proof for this accusation?” She said carefully to Bill. She could see that Sonny both had a history of gossip and motives to do it, but that was just speculation. Bill, who had hoped she would just jump on his theory because he was sure of it, felt an irritation in his chest, not really towards Aurora but to the situation. He didn't really have proof. He was always logical and reasonable like that, but now his emotions started to take over.

“My manager has a contact with Page Six who said it was a Swedish man. I can just see Sonny being that person if it's not Mathias. Or one of my brothers.” He said the last sentence pointingly, like that was unbelievable, and it was. It was Sonny, and she could see it too. Once again, a close friend betrayed her.

Bill looked at Aurora, who was still calm, but a tear ran down the bridge of her nose. He kissed her hand and pressed his forehead against hers. His stomach ached with several emotions, and he could feel a burning sensation up in his throat and spreading out like a virus in his chest. He really didn't like this, and it felt surreal that he would do something like what he thought about but seeing his wife, the love of his life, so hurt was enough to know he would be forced to do things he feared more than death.

“I will set him up. I will… I will make him confess to it while my manager hears and also record it. Then I will make a police report for slander, both here in Sweden but also in the USA. Then we will use the same fucking weapon as him. The media.”

His voice didn't sound like his, it was a darker but also broken voice that came out of his lips as a loud whisper. There was malice in it, but also heavy protectiveness. He would never use violence, threats, or anything like that but he would use the weapons he could find. It didn't really matter what would happen with the police report; the media and the people would judge Sonny anyway. For a while, their lives would probably be even more drama-filled, but after a while, the narrative would turn and people would want to be on their side, or at least enough people, so the slander of them would fade away.

“You know that podcast host I blurted out that we were a couple to?”

“Mm?” Aurora looked at him with big eyes.

“That episode is still his most listened to episode. I think he would love an interview with the both of us.”

Aurora looked between Bill's big green eyes with her big brown ones in silence. Bill tried to interpret her facial expressions, see what she thought about it all, but then she broke down in violent tears.

“Oh my god, Bill..!” She said through tears and pushed her body closer to his. She was in shock that he was prepared for such a thing. She had seen him hide from the media their whole relationship, and now he would play into them just for her. Just so they could get rectification.

“I know it's a lot… I'm terrified. I'm so fucking terrified but we need an end to this. He can't continue to feed them lies,” said Bill. His voice broke when his own tears spilled down on the pillow under him. Aurora hugged him hard, so hard to let their emotions mix and calm down each other. They needed an end to all of the lies, to fight for that, because their love deserved it.

×××

Their teams were torn about whether it was a good idea, but they could also see in the couple that they had, had enough. Aurora's team could also see how her whole career was slowly dying and wondered if this was maybe the final thing that could make it blow up again. Bill's team was so shocked that he had come up with this plan, he, who they would sometimes force to do an interview. Maybe they were a bit too curious about what would happen to put a stop to it. Bill's manager was open about his excitement, he said honestly to Bill that he liked that side of Bill, he liked how much he could surprise people, and he thought it was a thrill to actually be a part of the plan.

Both Bill and Aurora had rather seen her not be a part of the confrontation with Sonny. She or the life inside of her didn't need the stress; it would be much more emotional for her than for Bill to do such a thing, but they needed Sonny to have a reason to meet Bill. They needed a calm place, but didn't want to be in their house. That's why they borrowed Mathias' studio, Aurora said she was there working on new material and wanted Sonny as input and it would also be really easy for Bill to get everything on tape. The couple didn't have a clue if it would work and they could feel heavy anxiety in their chests. No one of them had done anything like that before and several times both of them thought about dropping it but suddenly Sonny called while they sat nervously on the couch and the time was in.

“It's so expensive with parking here; it's so fucking awful; every time I meet you here, I must starve for a week,” joked Sonny with a laugh. Aurora had the speaker on, and Bill furrowed his brows and looked at his wife. He interpreted Sonny differently than she did.

“Yeah… Yeah… But we’ll fix that, you know that,” said Aurora. Even if she talked with the guy who sold her secrets, she got a bad conscience for him needing to pay so much for parking. Bill could see that in her expression and wondered if this had happened a lot. He knew Aurora had no clue what parking cost in the area, Stockholm, or even Sweden, so it would be really easy to fool her. He was also eager to help his friends with things, but it was different if they showed any signs of manipulation.

“Is the code still 3442?” Asked Sonny.

“Yeah…” Said Aurora with a nervous shake in her voice. Bill hoped Sonny didn't hear it.

"Yeah, it worked. See ya!”

Aurora turned to Bill and looked at him with fear. He didn't say anything because he needed the few seconds before Sonny would be in the room to collect himself, and prepare for his performance. Aurora knew that he was the one who would do the work now while she left him alone so she could be calm and take care of the growing seed inside of her. Isis was safe with Gustaf and his family, but their other little baby was forced to be a part of all the drama.

Aurora hugged Bill's hand in hers, looking down at its comforting size, but then turned her eyes to the door. They could hear him now, stomping up the stairs and then opening the door like it was his own studio.

Sonny looked at them with a broad smile as they sat on the couch, but there was also another feeling that Aurora couldn't interpret but that Bill could. Disconcern. He looked like an animal who wondered if it needed to escape.

“Hey… Ehm…” Aurora stood up, looked between the men, and paused at Bill, who nodded in encouragement. “I’ll just go and try to find something for lunch…” she continued, walking to the door with a lowered gaze.

“Oh, okay,” said Sonny fast, and he turned on his heel so he could follow.

“Sonny. I want to talk to you,” said Bill, taking the moment when he had his back on him to start the recording and call up his manager. He laid the phone next to himself on the couch, but close to the armrest.

Sonny stopped his movement and laughed nervously. Aurora just continued to walk. She knew that was what Bill wanted her to do. No doubt, just walk away and not worry about anything.

Sonny looked after her, but then turned and looked at Bill. Even sitting down Bill was intimidating. His shoulders, so broad, his legs long and his arms strong. He looked at him with a dark expression and in that moment Sonny understood why Hollywood had him as a favorite villain. He had never seen Bill as that attractive and believed Aurora could get someone hotter but not just that but also someone more exciting. Bill made her boring but he also had a way that made you feel small and insignificant, or that's what Sonny felt at least. He hadn't felt a thing while spilling the lies about Bill. He would probably need to have things going against him.

“I think you know what I want to talk about,” said Bill with a sigh. He took on the role as disappointed but never lost that intimidating vibe. “Sit down.”

Sonny scoffed and rolled his eyes with crossed arms.

"I would rather stand.”

“Sure. Okay.” Bill sat up on the couch better and looked at Sonny intensely. Sonny didn't look at him but instead looked around in the room, like he was too good to give Bill his attention.

“I know it's you who talked to Page Six. I know it's you who betrayed my wife and manipulated everything she had told you to gossip-friendly stories.”

Sonny scoffed again but looked uncomfortable and even turned his eyes to the door, like he thought about escaping. His nervous behavior just made Bill more sure of himself. It was obvious it was Sonny. That little rat.

“I have a source at Page Six,” Bill said shortly, and it made Sonny finally look at him. His eyes were gray and worried, but they grew of panic. He dragged his hands nervously through his hair. “They know it's you.”

Sonny looked down at the floor, and it looked like he tried to come up with something to say, so Bill waited him out. He was good at being silent. To Bill's surprise, Sonny started to sob. Small, pathetic sobs like it was he who was the victim.

“You don't understand!” He said and dragged his fingers over his cheeks to wipe away the tears. Bill looked at him a bit uncomfortable because tears felt harder to handle than anger, but he must make him talk in some way or another.

“Okay?” He just said to make the conversation continue.

“You're so fucking rich! And famous! You have everything while I've fucking done everything to make things work!” Sonny didn't look at Bill, and he was glad for that; it would be too uncomfortable.

“So you wanted money? Is that it? You sold your stories about me and Lou?”

Sonny continued to sob and now sat down next to Bill on the couch, not to come closer but because his legs started to fail him.

“She just walked into Chanel and bought a bag, just like that! She has no understanding of money at all!”

There was truth to Sonny's words, but it still didn't make what he did understandable. Aurora had money—a lot of it but she was also generous and gave much away. Her lack of economic consciousness went in both directions. Bill swallowed hard because he hadn't yet gotten Sonny to confess; he just whined like a bitter teenager.

“But the one you talked the most about wasn't Lou…” he finally said to create some other feelings in Sonny. “Most of the lies were about me.”

Now Sonny swallowed hard and looked up at Bill carefully. He looked much more nervous now, like he expected Bill to hit him.

“Ehm…”

Bill lifted his brows and rested his elbow on the armrest, expectedly.

“It was just… It was just easier. Because… I understand you believe now that I'm the worst friend, that I don't care about Lou. I do! I really do!” Bill wanted to laugh at his words but kept his dark gaze to not make Sonny stop talking. “And Aurora is so great and… I didn't want to hurt her. I couldn't say she was a bitch, because she's really not. So…”

Bill looked at him with big eyes, waiting for him to confess.

“So it was easier to tell Page Six about you. And, to be fair, god, you have done some stupid shit.” Sonny looked at Bill now with big eyes, like he expected Bill to confess he was in the wrong. Bill smirked, because he had what he wanted now but instead of just being pleased with that he felt he could instead just meet Sonny's accusations.

“Like what do you mean?”

Sonny dried his tears and took a deep breath.

“Roxy? The trainer? Continue to work with that girl Aurora hated?”

Bill dragged a hand over his face in irritation. He hadn't done everything perfect in his and Aurora's relationship, but he didn't deserve this because of it.

“But I've never cheated and you know that too. You know how much I love Aurora Lou,” said he seriously and gave Sonny an intense look. Sonny looked up at him but then looked away.

"Yeah, I know that. I know that. But she still is worth more than you.”

Bill didn't move a muscle because, at that moment, he agreed with Sonny, even if Sonny had tried to destroy his life. Even a blind hen…

Sonny looked up at Bill and analyzed his face for a few seconds until Bill smacked his lips, then he didn't dare to look at him any more.

“I will file a police report so you know, and it's not mine or Aurora’s problem what happens with you after that.”

Sonny, who had believed he would be able to cry himself out of the mess, looked at Bill with horror and started to sob violently again. Now Bill just looked at him tiredly, but his real feelings were something else. Triumph. Triumph. Triumph. He had it all on tape, and his manager had heard everything.

×××

Aurora stood outside of the building. The idea was that she would calm down at a café and not think about what Bill was doing, but that had been impossible. She had turned back before she even walked into the café and had then stood hidden behind a corner so she could see the entrance door without Sonny seeing her when he walked out. She had a hand on her belly, to calm the baby down, she thought to herself but in reality it was to calm herself down. It was calming to think about the life inside of her. It was like it got her to think that everything would be okay.

She smiled to herself and continued to do that even when she saw Sonny leave the building. He marched away fast, but she couldn't see so many other emotions than that because his face was covered with his hood. She took a deep breath and walked to the entrance door. Hopefully Bill would give her good news and give the baby right.

She heard Bill laugh when she came into the studio. He had his phone pressed against his ear and walked around in the room with a hand on his hip.

“It was probably logical in his brain. Yeah, fuck, what a-” Bill didn't end his sentence because he had just realized Aurora stood behind him.

“I'll call you later,” he said to his manager and then hung up. He smiled a big, dopey smile towards Aurora and spread his arms out.

“I have it all on tape, baby.”

She looked at him with a pounding chest; it was much to take in, but then she let herself get swallowed by Bill's big embrace.

“Did you tell him that?” She asked and looked up at her husband’s face.

“No, no. That's just for the cops. I don't want to threaten him. I'm the good guy, you know,” he said with a smirk, and he gave her a little peck when she answered his smile.

“But that's not illegal? Or anything?” She said worryingly, and Bill smiled calmly.

“Not in Sweden. And it's just for the police. Okay?”

Aurora nodded, then took a deep breath and smiled in relief. Bill could see her eyes getting more shiny for every second and dragged his hand through her hair and patted her cheeks with his thumbs.

“God… That you dare to do this… I'm so happy you did this.”

Bill smiled sadly at first, thinking about just a couple of weeks ago, when he had wanted to hide. Then he also thought about what Sonny had said about him.

“I will do everything for you. Everything.” He said and looked her deep in the eyes. Aurora giggled and reached up so they could kiss again. Just then, the both of them could feel a movement between them, or for Aurora inside of her. Both of them looked down at her bump and laughed with happiness. Bill laid his hand on her belly to feel the sweet movement, and she looked at him with a loving smile.

“I'm so sure this will be a boy,” she said lowly. Bill looked at her with glistening eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

×××

2 years later…

Aurora really liked the dress—that perfect Barbie pink silky dress that floated nicely over her curves. Today she had matched it with nude strappy heels and her hair pin straight. The first time she had it on, she had it with heels the same color as the dress and her hair collected in a high, voluminous ponytail, but then she also had help from a hairstylist. It was the day they visited the podcast together—the filmed podcast. The dress had been tight over her pregnant belly, and the shoes had cut into her swollen feet. Now the dress had been sewn in to fit her petite frame again, and the shoes were one of her more comfortable heels.

The podcast had gotten so much attention, with her showing off her bump, Bill and her showing themselves together in such a context, and the long talk about all sorts of things, highs and lows. The articles about their slander accusation lay in everyone's memory while watching the interview, but they never talked directly about that, just touching on subjects like gossip, hate, and lies. Aurora became moved in a moment and was forced to dry her tears, but Bill sat so close, and she searched for support in him and found it so easily. Their love lit up the room like a firecracker. It was hard to not love them.

Bill had left his comfort zone completely that day. He had just had her on his mind. He had been forced to do that several times after that, but nothing made him hide, and that day he wouldn't hide either.

Aurora looked around at the people around the long table. It was their family and their friends, talking in a mix of Swedish and English, the way she most of the time talked. She was a part of Swedish society now, and her kids had their real roots there. It was not at all what she expected would happen in her life, but she was so thankful for that. Even if she were an international celebrity, her life had been lonely in many moments. Her family was small, so small that it was just her mom left but now she had family in every direction she looked. She had been betrayed by friends, used by family, and hurt by boyfriends, but now she sat around that table with more things than her career to be proud of. She gave her mom a look where she sat opposite her, next to Valter. If Aurora had been afraid of Valter in the beginning, he had been equally afraid of her mom. Erica sat at Aurora's right with her boyfriend and enjoyed their food. Everyone enjoyed their food and her new hit record on the speakers. Aurora's chest warmed with proud feelings, not because of her songs, which were mostly embarrassing, but for her man. Her husband.

The applause started to spread out through the restaurant with whistles and cheers. It was obvious what was happening to Aurora's left, where the entrance to the kitchen was. Aurora's cheeks heated up when she looked at Bill. She felt newly in love when she looked at him in his black chef jacket. He was so handsome, his forehead lightly glistening with sweat and his hair messy. His cheeks were slightly pink from the warmth in the kitchen, and his eyes sparkled with joy. Aurora’s eyes also sparkled, but by seeing him like that, she unconsciously laid her hands on her cheeks to hide her blush, but it was in vain because no one missed her reaction, not Bill's either, when he looked at her lovingly with a small laugh.

Bill didn't know what he was most proud of at that moment, his restaurant or Aurora. He heard her music and was reminded of her hard work, their own label, but mostly their family. How she had opened her heart for his three daughters and carried and nurtured their two kids, Isadora Li and Stellan. He had given up a relationship between them before they even had tried but she didn't give up, even if he had been a coward. He was proud of her in every way and grateful for how much she inspired him.

Next to Bill stood the head chef and the other owner, and they gave each other playful smiles while the restaurant, filled with their friends and family, cheered. Bill had started the restaurant together with a friend and together with the head chef, they had created the menu. All of that while being a great dad, a loving husband, and continuing his acting career. He was proud of himself, too. He had always seen himself as a daring person but after all he and Aurora had been through, it felt like nothing could stop him.

The other owner started to talk about their work to create the restaurant, the struggle they have had, and then thanked his family and friends. Bill looked at him while he talked, but when he got quiet, his eyes were drawn to his wife at once. He smiled, almost embarrassed, and looked down at the floor while stomping on the place. Several people started to cheer again for the couple's newly in love way but also because this was a big day for them in one more way.

“First of all, congratulations to us, babe. On our fifth wedding anniversary, I love you-,” he said, making a heavy exhalation and giving her a smile with shiny eyes because all words were too small to explain his love for her. “My one and only. Thank you for everything you give me, every day.”

Aurora dried her tears away with her napkin, but she laughed through her tears. Bill gave her a smile but then couldn't stop himself from running up to her in a silly manner and attacking her lips with his. Soft plump lips devoured her mouth, and she giggled through it. Bill smirked and then kissed her again. Again and again. Way too passionate for doing it in the presence of others, but that was their love.

Maybe too much, maybe too cute, maybe too loud. Bigger than everything.

×

[photo1030]

Leather and Lace - Chapter 14: It’s Such a Perfect Day

Summary: You and Arthur go on your first "non-date" date, not even realizing it. *I got the idea for this one listening to Lou Reed's song "Perfect Day".

Just a perfect day You made me forget myself I thought I was someone else Someone good

*This stunning image was found on Pintrest, posted by Gail Hall. Awesome page, check her out. 

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

It is late morning and you turn your face up into the warm sunlight, squinting your eyes closed to the bright light. A contented hum escapes your lips as you settle into the languid sway of your horse's gait. It is an almost hypnotic motion, one that is always so comforting to you. Sighing deeply, you eventually open your eyes to look upon the vista stretched out ahead of you as you ride through the countryside. You could never tire of this view. The rolling landscape is lush with the vibrant colors of the fall foliage that has now started to turn for the season. The grasses sway softly with a slight breeze that kicks up every now and again as if Mother Nature was to remind you to stay awake and pay attention to the wonder around you. 

You look over to your right and see your traveling companion following suit. Arthur is not as awe-struck as you are when you're out and about like this, as he is out of camp more often than you. Arthur is used to roaming and sleeping under the night sky, being exposed to the natural elements and such. But even though he is used to it, it doesn't mean that he doesn't appreciate it just the same. Arthur is not one for "city-life" and is more at home in the countryside. He is in his most relaxed state when he's just as he is now:  on his horse, casually riding through the hillsides, with nothing but the clouds in the sky and the occasional squirrels in the trees to keep him company. The only other thing that could make it any more perfect for him when he is out like this is if you are riding alongside with him, just as you are now. You are not together as a couple, yet you both find great comfort in each other's presence, an unspoken "thing" between you. And with that notion, as if he internally knows your mind, he turns to look back at you as well. Meeting each other's gazes, not a word is said between you, and he returns just the smallest grin, but one that makes those lines around his eyes crinkle with happiness.

Today, you and Arthur have spent the morning hunting, trying to stock up on more food and supplies for your group. The task has proven most successful as you have brought down two deer and a handful of pheasant. Along the way, you came across an apple tree that still bore fruit, so you quickly grabbed what you could that wasn't rotten or picked-at by the birds. You even came across a rogue squash vine that was growing along a fence post! (Probably seeded there by either critters or a vegetable tossed to the side like garbage). Elated with your score, you and Arthur head back to camp with more than enough meat and a few sacks of wild fruit and vegetables, even mushrooms, that you've found along the way. At the moment, you are humming and singing your favorite songs off and on as you let Blue wander at his own pace beneath you. You even catch Arthur humming along with you, with a few words being mumbled in there as lyrics as well. The two of you are in such high spirits this morning, but unfortunately, things are about to take a turn. When you get back to the camp, you and Arthur are faced with the wall of negativity that is everyone else's foul mood.

You and Arthur get your horses hitched up and begin to carry the meat and bundles of other food over to the food wagon. As you approach Mr. Pearson to bring him the provisions, you are met with his horrible out-of-tune singing as he fusses about, preparing whatever concoction he's planning for today's meal. It makes you cringe inside a bit, causing your nose to wrinkle with the discomfort to your ears. But Pearson's horrible caterwauling is soon drowned out by the sound of bickering off in the distance. Dutch and Molly are at it again, and everyone can hear the yelling across the camp, even with them enclosed within their tent. Their harsh tones and constant hollering seems to swell by the minute. You and Arthur exchange an uneasy glance amongst yourselves before turning around to head off in the opposite direction if you can, desperate to find reprieve.

But the two of you simultaneously halt where you stand as the off-setting choice in the other direction is not that much better. Off in the remainder of the camp, Ms. Grimshaw is after Tilly once again, the two of them exchanging bitter snaps with each other. To your right, Bill and Lenny are having a heated debate over a game of cards. And although you can only faintly hear them, off to your left, you can see that Abigail and John have gotten into it. And by the way their arms are swinging around, it seems to be a fight that is rivaling the one that Dutch and Molly are having at the same time. Hosea smartly took Jack out for a walk to get away from all of the noise, and Charles is practically hiding up on the hill, working on new arrows. And to complete the sad sight, your eyes land on Uncle, passed-out drunk already under the tree.

Your surroundings are darkly depressing and you suddenly feel very trapped, like arms of oppression are closing in around you. You and your "family" live hard lives, difficult lives, and it is hard to have moments of unadulterated happiness such as the one that you and Arthur shared earlier this morning. Which is why you suddenly feel very defensive about prolonging the lovely mood that not only you are in, but have managed to procure for Arthur as well. This man constantly exudes exhaustion, evidence of it settled deep in his blue eyes at all times. And you were just so pleased that you were able to offer him just a bit of comfort and escape by simply getting him away from the trappings and responsibilities of the camp, even if it was just for a few hours this morning.

As you stand there, you can feel your face pull up in annoyance. You were floating on clouds just moments ago after your morning with Arthur, and now you have come back to this disheartening sight. You sigh deeply, feeling your shoulders dropping by the second. You shift your weight from hip to hip, debating on what to do. Arthur must feel the same way as you, as he has yet to leave your side. In fact, instead of running off and hiding in the safety and seclusion of his tent, his body slowly drifts to move closer to yours, almost as if to shield you from all of this ugliness. "Arthur?" you quietly say his name, fearing that you're about to get swept up in the wave of everyone else's bad temperament. And as you look over, you can see your own misery mirrored in Arthur's face as he stares about at the chaos with a deep scowl quickly setting upon his brow.

"Way ahead of ya, sweetheart," he mumbles. "C'mon," he tugs your elbow to follow him as he abruptly spins on his heels to head back to the horses. You are right behind him, rushing to get back to the hitching post. You and Arthur both walk at a rapid pace and with great purpose in your strides. You don't even have to speak another word to each other as you both quickly get back on your horses and spur out of the camp, desperate to get out before anyone tries to stop either of you.  

Only once the two of you have made your hasty departure and you are out at a safe distance from the camp, does Arthur finally speak up. "So, what do you want to do now?," he asks you as he runs his fingers through his hair before he readjusts his hat upon his head. "We probably got a few hours to kill before all that nonsense back home blows over," he says nodding over his shoulder at the people left behind you.

"Why don’t we go into town?" you suggest. "Maybe skip over to Ourey? I'm sure we can find something to occupy our time there." The newer town of Ourey had popped up when the railroad expanded in from Silverton and the town was quick to build up. For its law-abiding citizens, Ourey provides churches, diners, merchants, and even a new school, while the other side of town hosts numerous saloons and brothels. So it offers a little bit for everyone, as they say, making it a fine choice for you and Arthur to spend your day together.

"Alright, then." His response is simple and agreeable, making you chuckle. Arthur Morgan can be so intimidating and difficult sometimes. Yet other times, he is like a puppy that could follow you around endlessly.

So you head to Ourey, the trip taking about an hour on horseback. The ride over is pleasant, as usual, for you two. You chit-chat about everything as you ride together and enjoy the scenery along the way. Upon arrival, the two of you begin to walk around the busy town, surveying the atmosphere. There seems to be plenty of activity and people milling about today. "Well, this was your idea," Arthur says, turning towards you as he scratches at the stubble on his scarred chin. "What do you want to do while we're here?"

You think a moment, weighing your options. Your eyes fixate on nothing, going into a blank stare and your mouth twists up and your lips pull in on themselves as a result of your deep thought. You rarely get the chance, not only to be out from camp, but to be alone with Arthur, and you don't want to waste such an opportunity. "I don't want to do anything that I don’t want to do," you finally conclude.

Arthur stares at your for a moment, taking in your over-simplified statement. "Well, that narrows things down," he says with a slight snort of derision, pulling his cigarette case out of his satchel and placing one of the smokes between his plump lips.

You roll your eyes at him as you playfully back-hand your forearm into his chest. "Look, I don't care what we do, as long as there’s no laundry tub or pan of dirty dishes involved. There's no one around to tell us what to do for once. So let’s just walk around and do whatever strikes our fancy in the moment," you chirp with a slight shrug of your shoulders.

"Sounds like as good a plan as any," he drawls, shaking out the match as he takes a long drag off of the cigarette as he patiently waits for you to dictate the next move.

You take a moment, spinning about slightly to look around the town. You can hear music playing softly in the distance somewhere. "Sounds like they have a band playing in the square. Why don't we go over there and sit a bit until we figure out what to do, yeah?" you suggest. "Sounds good to me," he agrees and he follows your lead when you tug on his jacket sleeve to follow you.

The two of you amble over to the public square where a small quintet sits under a gazebo and is performing to a moderate-sized crowd. You both find a place in the small grandstand that was built for seating and listen to the music, taking in scene. You don't get much entertainment, living out in the woods as you do. The only music you get to hear is when you and Javier play and sing together, or Dutch fires up his gramophone. 

You and Arthur sit close to each other, contently listening. You even catch him humming and tapping his fingers along to the music at one point. You try to be inconspicuous as you shyly look him over. His tan leather jacket fits him so well, worn-down and broken-in from so much use that it is almost like a second skin to him. The collar of his black shirt that he's wearing underneath pokes out and frames his face nicely. Seeing him so content in this moment of time brings a certain joy to your heart and you shuffle just a bit closer to him, wanting so much to take-in and be a part of his happiness. He doesn't realize how close you have moved to him until he glances down when he feels your leg brush up against his own. Arthur stares at the sight of you being in such close proximity to him for a brief moment before looking up to your face to see you simply smiling back at him. The feeling between you two is electric as you hold each other's gaze for that lingering moment. Its like a force of nature that is inevitable to deny and it drowns out all others as if you two are the only ones in the world. You don't say a word, as nothing needs to be said right now, but simply bump your shoulder into his in acknowledgement.

When you eventually turn your attention back to the musicians, you notice a boy, about twelve years old, walking about the crowd, selling roasted walnuts. He calls out to the people, announcing his goods to sell. Arthur lifts his hand and nods to motion the boy over. "Whatcha got there, kid?" his voice is deep but always soft when he speaks to youngsters.

"Roasted walnuts, sir," says the boy as he hurries over to Arthur, excited to make a sale. "Picked 'em myself. I got salted and candied." The boy is young, but definitely knows how to peddle his wares to a crowd.

"We'll take some of them candied ones," says Arthur as he digs a few coins out of his satchel. Looking at the boy, you notice that his hands are dirty and his clothes a little worse for wear. You imagine that he's doing whatever he can to get money, even selling nuts out of the tree in his yard. But Arthur doesn't call him out on it, but instead treats this boy with respect, just as if he were a professional adult. "Better make it two," Arthur says after thinking a moment, noting just as you are, that this boy probably needs the money just as much, or more, than the two of you do. "The lady here has a sweet tooth", he winks at the boy and he nods in your direction with a grin. The boy's head bobs up and down excitedly at the prospect of doubling his sale and quickly hands over two paper bags with the delicious treat, and gratefully takes the coins out of Arthur's hands in return. Your heart melts as you watch them interact. This man has a heart bigger than he lets on, and you are just so grateful to be a part of his life. The boy gives Arthur a quick "Thanks, mister!" before moving on through the crowd.

"Here you go," says Arthur nonchalantly as if he didn't just do the most adorable thing, in your opinion, and hands you one of the bags. You give him a demure little smile as you take it out of his hands, your fingers glancing across his knuckles as you do, saying "Thank you". You pop a few of the walnut meats into your mouth and savor the delicious notes of sugar, molasses and spices dancing on your palate. Even Arthur lets out a brief and involuntary hum of pleasure as he tosses a handful across his own tongue.

You begin to casually look around the town again and take notice of a particular sign outside of one of the buildings. Upon seeing it, an idea immediately forms in your head and you tap Arthur's leg to get his attention. "Come on, I know what I want to do next!" you exclaim as you stand up with an excited look upon your face. Your sudden movement startles Arthur slightly, and he gives you a confused look as he looks up at you before standing up to follow you. "Jesus, its like walkin' 'round with a little kid," he jokingly mutters to you. You absentmindedly grab his hand with a giggle, tugging him after you. You are too wound up in your plan to think about what you're doing at the moment, but Arthur is quick to take notice your soft fingers wrapped around his meaty bear-paw. He's too fixated on the sight of your hands clasped together to notice where you are dragging him to.

After walking a few yards, you stop in front of a large white brick building, used as the common area for the town. There is a big sign on an A-frame stand in front that reads "ART SHOW". You look up at Arthur with a spirited grin, to which he only gives a questioning lift of his eyebrow. "Really, (Y/N)?" he asks you skeptically. "Yep! Wouldn't hurt to get a little more culture in our lives, Arthur" you snicker, your shoulder pulled up to your chin flirtatiously as you look up at him through your long eyelashes. This slight movement of your body makes him want to do anything and everything that you'd ask of him right now. "Sure", he sighs in resignation. "Let's go get 'cultured'," as he waves his arm in the direction of the building. You let out a slight squeal of excitement and push open the door, Arthur's arm coming up over your head to hold it open for you as he stays close behind.

The two of you step inside the building and its one great hall, open and expansive with large windows to let in plenty of natural light. Scattered about are partitions with various pieces of artwork mounted to them. Your mouth drops a bit in awe and excitement at the sight of it as you take it all in in one sweeping glance. "Good Afternoon, sir...miss," the usher greets you at the door. "Today's display is that of Chicago artist Christopher Palmer. Pieces are for sale as marked. Please, enjoy." And he swings his arm out to usher the two of you in to the room. "Thank you," you reply sweetly, as Arthur simply nods to the man in response as the two of you walk past with Arthur protectively placing his fingers along the small of your back as he falls in step behind you.

You and Arthur wander about the room together, looking at the various pieces of artwork. The pieces are drawings, sketches done in both charcoal and colored pastels. They are of various subjects, covering landscapes and sunsets, but mostly portraits; images of people in a range of states: old and young, smooth-skinned young women with delicate curves, and hardened men with frown lines and piercing eyes.

"You could be in here, you know?" you suggest to Arthur as the two of you stand in front of one of the walls, studying a particular piece.  

"What are you talkin’‘bout?" snorts Arthur, glancing at you slightly in doubt.

"Your drawings. You’re just as good, if not better, than this artist," you flick your wrist at the current sketch in front of you.

"You’re crazy," he dismisses you, turning his attention back to studying the sketch on the wall, his head tilted slightly as he notes the lines and technique of the artwork in front of him.

You eye him up a moment, trying to think of a proper response to his ever self-deprecating comments. "Yeah, you’re probably right. You’re not that good. Really bad, now that I think about it," you tease sarcastically.

"Hey, I’m not that bad." he retorts back at you.

"Yeah, you kinda are, now that I really stop and think about it," you smile mischievously at him.

"Hey, I’m good," Arthur justifies, knowing full-well that you are goading him now and decides to play along.

"Eh," you shrug. "It’s like looking at a toddler's doodling, to be honest," you continue.

Arthur turns fully to you now, giving you a hard stare, to which you simply smile innocently, trying to suppress a laugh. "You’re a brat, you know that?"

"Yep. Most definitely," you agree, tilting your head slightly with a light-hearted giggle as you slip your arm through his to lead him to the next collection on the wall. The two of you continue to casually walk through the room, taking your leisurely time, yet you leave your arm draped over his as you do, like a right and proper couple. Neither of you would admit it to the other, but you are each enjoying the fantasy of pretending. You could've pulled your arm away from his, but you don't. You like the feeling of comfort that the contact brings. Arthur walks with his head held high, a sense of pride radiating off of him. It feels good to have you on his arm, like you belong there. He even catches the glances from a few of the other patrons, an older couple, who observe the two of you with an approving smile. Arthur is genuinely having a nice time here with you. His usual scowl is replaced with a look of contentment, happiness even. He’d never believe it, but he is that much more handsome with a confident bounce in his step.

After you have finished your walk-through of the artwork, Arthur suggests that the two of you continue your day together and go over to one of the saloons for a drink and something to eat. Of course you agree, wanting to extend your day-trip out as long as you can. The walk to the saloon isn't too far from the town hall where you just left the artshow, and it doesn't take you long to get there. There are a few saloons in this town, but you head over to your favorite one.

Upon pushing through the doors  of the bar, you and Arthur take in the crowd, assessing how busy they are today. "I'm going to 'powder my nose'. Go ahead and grab us a table, I'll be right back," you tell Arthur, placing your hand upon his forearm as you give him a big smile before you proceed to walk across the room and towards the hall that leads to the public outhouse in the back. Arthur doesn't say a word, but simply watches you go. His eyes follow your path the entire time, not breaking contact, until you are physically out of his sight. He sighs deeply with a stupid, love-sick grin on his face. Part of him wants to follow you out back and pin you up against the wall of the building and plant a desperate and passionate kiss upon your perfect lips. But no. He's just not there yet. He still can't quite tell if you are just really good friends, or if there is the possibility of more there. But he is in no rush today. As long as you are here with him now, he really doesn't care to what capacity it is.

Arthur saunters over to the bar and places his large hands on the wooden top, catching the barkeep's attention with a slight lift of his chin. The gang has been in this bar quite a few times and you have gotten familiar with this particular bartender. His name is Dave and he's a mild-mannered fellow, but you can tell that he is not a man that you want to anger. He's not as large as Arthur, but he's large enough, with thick arms and a keen eye, and able to quell any fights and such that occasionally pop up in his establishment. If Arthur had to guess, Dave has a past of his own and is using this bar as a way to "go legit". And because of that, Arthur and Dave have a mutual respect whenever Arthur is here.

"What can I get for you today, my friend?" Dave asks Arthur, as he walks over, picking up a rag on his way and gives the bar a quick swipe.

"'Afternoon, Dave," Arthur greets him in return. "Just takin' the day off today with a friend of mine. Can I get a couple of beers and a plate of whatever you got back there?"

"Sure thing. Go ahead and grab a table. I'll get Theresa to bring it over to you," says Dave, nodding to the room of tables and chairs behind Arthur.

"Thank you, kindly," says Arthur, tossing a few coins on the bar with a grin.

He turns around and is about to make his way over to pick out a table in the corner for you and him, when a woman suddenly steps in front of him, blocking his path. His eyes instantly darken in confusion as he is halted in his actions.

"Well my, my, look at you, handsome," the woman purrs to Arthur. "Just where are you off to in such a rush, hmm?" She looks Arthur up and down with a sultry look upon her face. Her face is all done-up with make-up, a little bit too much in over-compensation, and she has a tight-fitting red dress on, one that plunges in the front to accent her amble bosom. The color and the design of the dress leave little to the imagination. Arthur doesn't recognize her, so she must be a fairly new working girl in the saloon.

"Ma'am," Arthur stiffly nods his head to acknowledge her. "I'm just goin' over to catch a seat at one of them tables over there," he tries his best to be polite, clearly not wanting anything to do with this sort of thing, before trying to walk around her and move on. But she is not going to let a prospective job get away so easily. Especially not one as attractive as Arthur. She observed how kindly he treated you when you walked into the saloon together. And she is hoping to not only be able to earn some money today, but to be with someone who also happens to not be an asshole while doing it.

"Oh hey, now, hold on a second," she sings to him, placing her hand on his chest to stop him. "I was thinking you and me could go off and have a little fun together?" she leans in a little closer to Arthur, lifting her eyebrow suggestively. "My name is Marie. What's yours, handsome?" and Marie reaches down and takes ahold of Arthur's wrist, lifting his hand up and begins to play with his fingers seductively.

"None of your business," replies Arthur flatly, trying to push past Marie. But she is quick to keep herself in his path once again, still holding his large hand in her own. And this time, seeing that she isn't making any progress with him, she tries a more daring move, and places Arthur's hand onto her own chest, sitting his palm flat on the soft skin between her collarbone and curvature of her breasts. She then begins to trail her fingers along his arm, as if to entice him into her bidding.

Arthur's eyes shoot open at the shock of such a bold invitation. He stands there motionless, not sure what to do. But the weird tension between them is quickly broken when he hears someone clear their throat with a simple "Ahem". Arthur and Marie both turn their heads to see you standing there, eyebrows raised in question as you observe them, smiling in amusement with your arms crossed over your chest.

Poor Arthur, he looks so uncomfortable. And the look on his face when you've caught him, literally red-handed, is priceless. "(Y/N)! Uh...erm..this isn’t what it looks like," he says awkwardly in his defense to you.

"It looks like you have your hand on that woman’s chest, Arthur," you reply calmly, with a grin that he can't quite read. Are you mad? Do you happen to find this situation comical? But you know how aggressive the working girls can be. And you can tell right away by the expression on his face, that this situation was not of Arthur's prompting.

"Oh, uh, then it is what it looks like, but what it looks like isn’t really what it is," he stammers, desperately trying to make a coherent thought, yet his hand has yet to move, as he is frozen in motion.

"Thank you for clearing that up," you say after making him sweat it out for a brief moment. And you walk away from the two of them, rolling your eyes, as you make your way to one of the tables to sit and wait for your lunch. Arthur awkwardly looks back at Marie, who in fear of getting her ass beat for trying to steal someone else's man, has smartly kept her mouth shut. He looks down at his hand that is still sitting on her chest before quickly snatching it away from her again, a scowl on his face and the dust of a shameful blush crossing his cheeks. "Go on, get outta here," he waves Marie off quietly. And accepting that she's not getting anywhere with this one, Marie gives a slight huff of frustration and quickly moves on to find herself another target.

Arthur slowly makes his way over to the table where you have chosen to sit. You have picked one of the tables in the corner by a window, ironically the one that he was heading to himself, and you are sitting quietly, occupied with fidgeting with your fingernails, until the waitress, Theresa, walks over and places two beers on the table in front of you. You give her an appreciative smile and a gracious 'Thank you', before you take a long gulp of the ale and swipe the edges of your mouth with your fingers, as if nothing is wrong. Arthur sheepishly sits down at the table across from you. "I’m sorry about that," he finally offers to you, not able to make direct eye contact with you.

"For what? I’m not your wife," you chuckle. "You can touch whomever you please," you say nonchalantly with a brief wave of your hand to dismiss the topic before you take another swig from your bottle. "Don't worry about it."

"Yeah but…I don’t want you to think I'm that sort of man," he says in earnest, looking at you fully now, his face laced with concern. He really hopes that he didn't just screw everything up with you with some stupid stunt.

"And what sort is that?" you ask softly, your eyelids blinking slowly as you lean forward on the table, placing your chin in your hand as you meet his gaze.

"The kind that paws at a woman like that," he says, embarrassed that he even has to explain this to you, his face starting to go red again.

"Oh, I know you’re not like that," you reassure him. "That’s one of the reasons why I like you so much," you grin as you reach across the table with your free hand and wrap it around his in comfort. Relief washes over him immediately, and oddly enough, your understanding of him makes Arthur feel even better than he did before.

The day continues on, and after lunch and another round of lively conversation, the two of you leave Ourey and spend the time roaming the land on your horses, enjoying a slow pace, as if time doesn't matter; as if it is just the two of you in the world with no other cares or responsibilities waiting back home for either of you.

 As you take the road to start to head home, Arthur suddenly announces that he is taking you on a little detour. "I got something to show you," he says. "C'mon, this way," and he gives you that twinkle in his eye again over his shoulder.

Intrigued, you spur Blue into a faster canter behind Arthur and Buck to keep up. He takes you down a stray path about thirty minutes off the main trail, heading deeper into the woods and away from the more populated areas. 

As you ride further on, you start to hear water off in the distance. Eventually, the trail leads up to a small lake that the local river feeds into. It is surrounded by a thick ring of trees, tall oaks and wide evergreens, and there is a small waterfall cascading softly off to the side, carrying water in from further up the hillside and cliffs surrounding the area.

You and Arthur both pull your horses to a halt, stopping for a moment to take in the beautiful sight. "Found this place when I was looking for that Wilson bounty a few weeks ago," says Arthur, nodding his head. "Been meaning to bring you up here to show you." He turns to look at you, curious to your reaction. He is hoping that you find it as special as he did the first time that he came across it. But when he sees your jaw drop slightly in awe, he knows the answer to his query.

A huge smile graces your lips. You exchange a look with Arthur before you quickly hop down out of Blue's saddle and walk over the water’s edge. "Would you look at that water!" you say astonished, your hands resting on your hips as you gaze at the lake. Arthur slowly swings his leg over the saddle and climbs down from his own horse. He walks a few steps and absentmindedly rubs the velvety skin of Buck's nose while he watches you. You bend over, reaching down, and trail your fingertips into the cool water, snaking them back and forth and observing how the liquid elegantly ripples. The water catches the sunlight as the sun starts its journey down to the horizon again for the day. The sensation of the water moving between your fingers with a slight rippling sound is mesmerizing. You keep playing like a child, swirling your hand around and around. You could simply pitch forward into that pool and float weightless forever under its current. Then suddenly, you stand, shaking your hand dry. "Let’s go for a swim!" you declare definitively, your eyes wide and an air of excitement in your voice.  

Arthur's face twists with confusion as he is pulled out of his reverie of watching you play with the water. “What?”

"A swim!" you repeat yourself. "You do know how to, don’t you?" you ask teasingly.

“Yeah, of course I do,but…” he replies uneasily, shifting his weight, his boots scratching slightly into the dirt.

"But what?" you cut him off. You're not about to let him off the hook that easily.

"What if someone sees us? Gets the wrong idea?," he suggests, his body fidgeting slightly now with nervousness as his thumbs tuck into his gunbelt.

"No one’s gonna come along out here," you wave dismissively. "And besides, what idea is that?" you ask suggestively, raising your eyebrow at him.

"Well...you know…", he says with a gesture of his hand towards you, his face getting red again.

"Oh, so stealing and shooting people is OK for you, but you frown upon skinny dipping? Is that it?" you fold your arms in challenge, that same devilish smile sitting on your lips.

He sighs in frustration, having the moral debate in his head. Being put in such a precarious situation, he’s not so sure he’d be able to control himself if something were to start between you two. Today has been so perfect. And he really doesn’t want to risk ruining it by doing something stupid or offensive. But, then again, Arthur never can say 'no' to you. And you know it. He hangs his head for a brief moment, hands on his hips, before looking back up at you again. "Alright, fine," he caves, and you clap your hands quickly with a slight hop of excitement in victory.  

You stand there a minute, looking at him expectantly. "Well? Are you going to turn around so I can get undressed or what?" you ask as you spin your finger to indicate for him to look away.

"Oh!…yeah…right," he says, flustered. Arthur turns his back to give you privacy, his hands starting to sweat nervously as he rubs his thumb into the palm of his opposite hand as he waits. His eyes stare straight ahead as he hears the flutter of fabric behind him and tries not to think about that fact that you are stripping down at this very moment right behind him, just mere feet from him. He can hear his own heartbeat in his ears at this point, like thunder rumbling to an oncoming storm. Jesus, what was he thinking bringing you here?

It only takes a few minutes until he hears water splashing and a brief yelp from you the moment that the cool water touches your skin. The feeling of the water brings your senses to life, full-on; from the invigorating temperature, to the way you glide and float as your limbs cut through the natural resistance of the water. You swim out far enough to cover yourself before turning around and calling back to Arthur on the shore. "OK, your turn now!" Arthur turns slowly, eyes searching until they find you out in the water. He stands perfectly still, not saying anything for a moment as he watches the sun dance off the water around you. You remind him of one of those water nymphs or mermaids from Jack's stories. He instantly notices how graceful you neck is, observing how it curves down to meet your now-bare shoulders, round and soft, and already covered in water droplets that dance with sunlight.

"Come on!" you holler even louder this time, trying to urge him into motion. "You said you’d do it too!"

"No, actually I didn’t agree to anything," Arthur replies calmly, a smirk slowly creeping across his face.

"Yes you did!" your eyes go wide, ready to argue. "I said 'Let’s go swimming' and you said 'fine'! Now, get out here, Morgan!!" you demand with a slight playful laugh.

Arthur sighs dramatically with an eye roll to match. "Fine. Are you gonna turn around now?" he challenges back.

Shaking your head at the big man's bashfulness, you spin in the water again. You gaze upon the waterfall while you wait, mesmerized by its water droplets tapping upon the lake's silvery surface as you hear the jingling of Arthur's gunbelt, followed by his belt buckle. God, you so wish you could turn around and sneak a glimpse of him right now. The temptation is so great at the moment that you catch yourself biting your lips a bit in anticipation. A few moments later, after the ruffling of clothing, you hear him getting into the water.

“Ah, geez! Damn, it’s cold!” he complains bitterly.

"Oh, stop it, you baby! It’s not that bad," you giggle, turning your chin slightly over your shoulder as you call to him.

A few moments of slight splashing and then he is making his way over to you in the water. "Alright, you can turn around now," he says. When you circle back around, waving your arms around in the water to turn yourself, you see Arthur swimming towards you, his chest bobbing in and out from under the water as he gets closer.

"There, you happy now?" he asks in an exaggerated pout.

"Yes, Mr. Morgan, you have made me quite happy," you smile back at him triumphantly.

"Well, that’s good to hear," he says with just a touch of sarcasm and a smile of his own mirroring back at you.

The two of you swim about and splash around for a bit. The water is cool and refreshing as it caresses your skin. The weightlessness of the liquid allows you both a unique opportunity of relaxation that only being submerged in water can offer. The air around the lake is quiet and still, the only sound is the water rippling around you, mixed with the occasional snort of laughter and mischievous conversation between the two of you. You are so thankful that it is just you and Arthur right now; that there is no one else around to dampen your spirits and ruin a perfect moment with their own drama.

It is quite fortuitous that you decided to wear your hair down and unbound today, as you simply cannot resist the urge to get your hair wet. At one point, you tip your head back, allowing the water to encompass your hair, the sensation soothing your scalp. You involuntarily let out an exhale of pure joy.  Arthur observes how such a simple thing can make you so content, and its the most beautiful thing that he's ever seen. His eyes glide down over your neck and on down to your collarbone, relishing the sight of your exposed skin, what little he can see. He watches as you raise your arms up to run your hands through your hair and then down again to fan out across the water's surface as you float there; an angel spreading its wings. Arthur swears his heart is about to burst right here and now within his chest. And then, it dawns on him that now is just as good a time as any to tell you what he's been practicing in his head for a long time now.

"Listen, (Y/N)," he says, catching your attention as you level your head again to meet his eyes. Arthur takes a deep breath. "There’s something I-“

"Oh my God Arthur, look!" you interrupt him suddenly with a shocked look upon your face as you point over his shoulder at the shore behind him. Confused, Arthur quickly spins around in the water to follow your line of sight and there he sees the object of your distraction. A couple of pudgy, rambunctious brown bear cubs have come bumbling out of the woods and down to the water to play. They do not notice you and Arthur and, therefore, pay you no mind. But eventually, a slowly ambling momma bear comes up behind her cubs to keep a careful eye on her offspring. The two little cubs are walking along the small beach, sniffing about, and begin to nose around your discarded clothing that they have found.

It is an awesome sight to see, but it doesn't take long before you realize the danger that you are now in. At best, you and Arthur are trapped, naked, in the water. Worst case scenario, that momma bear sees you and decides that you are a threat to her babes. You are suddenly thankful that you decided to let the horses wander untethered, safely away from this predator. You turn your head about quickly to check on them and can see the horses safely grazing off in the distance in the field adjacent to the beach.

"Arthur?" you whisper his name uneasily, swimming closer to him, your eyes never leaving the bears.

"It’s OK," he says quietly, slowly stretching his arm out to protectively move you behind him, yet keeping his steel-blue eyes keenly fixed on the shore as well. "Just stay quiet and as long as we make no advance towards the cubs we should be alright." You simply nod your head silently, obeying his instructions, yet watching the animals carefully.

You and Arthur sit motionless in the water, carefully watching the bear family move about. The adrenaline that courses through your veins is both terrifying and almost exhilarating at the same time. You both just pray that the momma stays calm. The bears sniff around curiously for about twenty minutes before they decide to slowly move on. Fortunately for you and Arthur, there is no commotion or problem from them at all. They are simply out scrounging for food before retiring for the evening. As you watch them make their way into the woods again, you slowly roll your eyes back into your head in relief. Once the bears are out of sight, you lean in closer to Arthur and whisper, "I think it’s time to go."

"I wholly agree," he nods. "I’ll go first, make sure it’s clear, and then you come on out," he says quietly over his shoulder, still wanting to keep his movements slow and calculated.  

"OK, but be careful!" you warn in a hushed tone, concern lacing across your eyebrows as you watch him start wading back to the beach.  

As he gets close to shore, Arthur is about to stand up and suddenly remembers that he’s still naked. “Turn around again!” he waves back at you as you still wait back in the depth of the water.

"But what if you get mauled by a bear?!" you ask, alarmed at the thought of letting Arthur out of your sight for even a second.

“Woman, if I get mauled by a bear, what in the hell are you going to do about it?!” he reminds you exasperatedly, looking at you like you're crazy.

"Oh...right...good point. OK," you say awkwardly, realizing how ridiculous you sound, before you spin around again, allowing Arthur to proceed to shore in discretion.

The man cautiously emerges from the water, looking left and right for any sign of the bears again, as he makes his way to your pile of clothes. He grabs a rag out of his satchel and hastily dries himself off before getting dressed in at least his union suit and jeans. He swipes his hands together, one across the other nervously, as he looks around for any lingering sign of the bears, before deciding that you are out of harm's way.

"Alright, you’re safe to come out," he calls out to the water to you and waves you in, as he spins around for you, now, to make your way to the beach as well.

Quickly, you swim to the shore and once out of the water, you snatch up the bit of cloth Arthur used to dry himself with before you, and start to get dressed, hastily pulling your loose blouse over your head first before fumbling with your skirt.

"I can not believe that just happened!" you say with a chuckle, totally amazed as your fingers work to retie the lacing of your skirt.

But Arthur is less than impressed at the moment as he turns to finish getting dressed. "It’s always something with you, isn’t it?" he asks, rolling his eyes with a huff, shoving his arms through the sleeves of his shirt.

"Oh, come on, now, we’ve had a wonderful day today, Arthur. And you have to admit, seeing those bears was pretty amazing, right?!" Your arms are outstretched emphatically towards him, holding your palms up to accent your point as your face lights up with excitement, so full of life.

“Sure”, he deadpans as he secures his gun belt.

"Oh, come on, Arthur," you whine again. "Don’t be like that…please?" 

Arthur just simply can't get over you. You could have been mauled by a bear, and left to float in the lake, naked, for the fish to eat. Yet here you are, thinking that this was an 'amazing experience'.

And he simply chuckles in disbelief, as he gives you a reluctant smile and shakes his head at the very wonder of you. "Yeah, OK. If we can manage to get back to camp in one piece today, I’ll admit, it’s been a perfect day."

A/N:  OK, so for those who have been following this storyline, we are finally coming to the big moment that my slow-burn has been building to. The next “chapter” will be “Feelings Revealed”. Super excited, as I have been working on that one for almost a year now. I do have an “ask” that I am going to write first (so excited, its my first “ask” ever!) but then on to the “main event”. Stay tuned...

[mimisempai]

No comment...

[dustedmagazine]

Styrofoam Winos — Real Time (Sophomore Lounge)

Optimism and levity are in short supply these days. This isn’t surprising; it feels like the world might unravel at any moment. Styrofoam Winos want to remind us that its okay to have fun and be a little silly. To be hopeful. On Real Time, the trio let their camaraderie rise to the surface, pushing cynicism and hopelessness aside in favor of enjoyment and jubilance. Like clouds basking in the warmth of the sun, the Winos’ country-flecked rock tunes take on pleasant, silver-lined shapes that drift along unhurriedly and unfold with protozoan fluidity. They draw us into a collective huddle, a group hug to spread conviviality far and wide.

Styrofoam Winos released a trio of videos to accompany Real Time, three exclamation points that highlight the album’s premise: here are three good friends enjoying each others’ company and having fun creating together. The short films are funny and smart, showing off a unit woven together tightly in song. On their self-titled debut, the Winos were a loose tangle of three independent threads, each imbued with a unique creative spirit. Their individual styles stood apart. On Real Time, the Winos have become a true band. The indie rock inclinations of Joe Kenkel, the cosmic boogie of Trevor Nikrant and Lou Turner’s folk-leaning balladeering bind together and form a mycorrhizal network. It sprouts a tripartite flora that blooms in the space between all three energies. They call themselves a “song Voltron,” which is a perfect description of their sonic comingling.

The Nashville-based trio serve up delicious vocal harmonies throughout Real Time, which heightens the sense of group synergy. On “Angel Flies Over,” Nikrant and Turner join Kenkel in a pseudo-round style as he sings about the magic that happens when friends get together. Elsewhere, the harmonies are more subtle, such as the soft vocal padding that Kenkel and Nikrant add to the lush ballad “Dial Tone” or the hushed call-and-response on “Tree is Brown.”

Styrofoam Winos switch off between guitar, bass, and drums, depending on which one is taking the lead on a song. They also bless each tune with subtle adornments that showcase how they’ve mastered their craft. A very understated synth slides beneath “Magic Mind,” which also features the subtle steel guitar work of Will Ellis Johnson, as Turner sings about playing “small ball with the moon and stars.” These small but effective touches accentuate the Winos’ overall aim of unveiling the mysterious energy conjured by human interactions. Friendships, relationships, and personal introspection are all deeply magical to them. Real Time is their prayer, their call for us to lighten our loads and bask in the warmth of our family and friend circles. Even if it’s just for a moment, let’s temper our worries with hope.

Bryon Hayes

[dino-cattivo]

Pray for me, cos I won't pray for you

My fic for the @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang!

The amazing art for this fic was done by @jeniidrawsshit and oh my god I love it so so much. It is just so amazing.

LINK TO THE ART!!! GO CHECK IT OUT!!

Pairing: Hob/Dream

Rating: mature

Word Count: 40,657

Tags: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending, Eventual Happy Ending, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, gore like the dinner episode, The Corinthian is His Own Warning (The Sandman), Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Blood and Injury, Alternate Universe - Mob, Organized Crime, Hob joins the mafia, Self Confidence Issues, Hob Gadling Loves Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, POV Hob Gadling, Hob Gadling Needs A Hug, Misunderstandings

Summery: After their fight in 1889 Hob falls in with a bad crowd thanks to a boy that reminds him of Robyn. He tries to stop his descent into crime not wanting to be reduced to being nothing more than a murderer again. But eh fails. Compared to all the live he ends helping to guard a basement is tame. If only Corinthian, the right hand man of his employer, would stop flirting with him despite being turned down multiple times already.

Chapter 1 under the cut. Will repost the next chapters as reblog because of word limit.

~1889~

“You knew Lady Johanna. You know, Lushing Lou. You know everyone, don't you?” Hob asked in wonder. He may not know who or rather what his stranger was, but he could never help but be amazed by everything he could do. Sometimes when he laid awake, unable to catch sleep, he came up with the wildest theories about the man. He imagines him being a vampire, a fae, and even considered an old god from Greece. But he would never know, as his stranger never revealed anything about himself, not even his name. 

It felt unfair in a way. Him knowing everything about Hob, while Hob got nothing. It had crossed his mind to be petty, to keep things to himself, go against their deal in a way. But Hob couldn’t stop himself from telling the man whatever he could when they saw each other, eager to be able to share.  

“I saw her again, you know.”

“Who? Lady Johanna?” Worry flared up. He knew his stranger was fine, sitting across the table from him. He also knew the man was strong enough to protect himself. But he couldn’t help wanting to be there, to protect, to keep his stranger safe, even at the cost of his own freedom.

“She undertook a task for me and succeeded admirably, I might add.”

Jealousy, burning hot, filling his veins. He tried to tamper it down, to net let it get to him, but he couldn’t help himself. All the time he had wanted nothing more than to get close to his stranger, to prove his worth, and now he had offered that chance to someone else. He had chosen someone who had hunted them down and tried to do harm instead of someone he shared centuries of friendship with.

It hurt. 

Although, could he hold it against his stranger? The man knew Hob for so long, knew what he has done, knew all his failures during his long life. So it was no wonder he didn’t trust Hob enough to ask him for a favor. His voice was filled with self-loathing as he spoke. “That might be the only thing I've learned after 500 years. People are almost always better than you think they are. Not me, though. Still the same as ever.”

“I think perhaps you've changed.” Hob’s heart started beating faster at the other’s words. Did he really think so? Hob wished it was true. He wants to change, to be good, worthy of his stranger.

“Well, I may have learned a bit from my mistakes. But, uh… doesn't seem to stop me from making them. I think it's you that's changed.”

“How so?”

Hob should shut up now and be content with what he had, seeing the man he had fallen for every hundred years. He should not press the issue, no matter how desperate he was to be acknowledged by the other. But Hob had never been smart when it came to things he desired.

“I think I know why we still meet here, century after century. It's not because you want to see whether or not I'm ready to seek death. I don't think I'll ever seek death. By now, you know that about me. So, I think you're here for something else.”

“And what might that be?” His stranger looked curious at that. Hob liked the look as it meant he had done something to surprise the man.

“Friendship. I think you're lonely.” And in true Hob fashion, he managed to put his foot in his mouth. He knew the moment he had spoken, he had made a mistake. It was the truth, but the wording was just unfortunate and way too blunt. And not at all how he had planned to breach the topic.

“You dare…”

“No, look, I'm not saying–,” Hob tried to backpedal, but it was too late. “You… dare suggest one such as I might need your companionship.”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

Maybe despite Hob’s foolish approach, there was a chance all of this still had a good outcome, and they would get closer. “Then I shall take my leave of you and prove you wrong.” Or maybe not. Hob sprang up from his chair and chased after his stranger as the man strode out of the tavern. The man couldn’t do this. If he wanted or not, they were friends. You didn’t just storm off and leave your friends behind.

“I'll tell you what, I'll be here in 100 years' time. If you're here then, too, it'll be because we're friends. No other reason, right?” He was met by silence as his stranger didn’t seem fit to answer and just disappeared. 

“Fսck.” 

~1897~

He was pissed, absolutely livid. Who did he think he was? He had no right to speak to Hob like this, no matter how powerful he was. That was not how things worked. You couldn’t be an asshole like that and expect people to stick around. Hob didn’t need him. They saw each other only every hundredth years, and even then the stranger often didn’t have time for Hob and fucked off with someone else. So what if Shakespeare was famous now? Hob would still have been better company back then. No, he didn’t need the man. He would make new friends. Better ones.

~1936~

Okay, so maybe mistakes had been made and Hob should have chosen his words more carefully. That was on him. His stranger still shouldn’t have exploded like this and should rather have tried to talk things out like a grown up, but still – Hob hadn’t been entirely blameless in the situation.

When they saw each other the next time he would have to apologize and maybe then they could laugh together about the stupid fight. Or well, Hob had never seen his stranger laugh, couldn’t even imagine it. He would settle for a smirk then.

~1983~

Anxiety was settled deep in his chest. What if his stranger proved him wrong. What if he didn’t show, determined to not give in. Hob had no way of finding him. He didn’t even know who he was looking for. What would Hob even do? Nothing besides showing up in the White Horse every hundred years and praying at some point his stranger would forgive him and come for him. 

Once more, he felt powerless in their relationship. It was the whole reason why he had even started the fight, wanting to know more, anything about his stranger. He didn’t want to be on equal footing, knowing it would never be, but he wanted something that was his. He didn’t want to be just another amusement the man had, but to mean at least something to the other. 

Tears sprung to his eyes as he hit his desk in frustration. It was unfair. The stranger meant too much to him, was such a big part of his life, and Hob didn’t even know if he was the only immortal he kept. Maybe Shakespeare was out there under a new name, living his best life and meeting his stranger more often than every hundredth years. And there was nothing Hob could do about it, no way for him to even find out.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on any more work, he gathered his documents and put them in a briefcase before leaving the empty office and making his way through the dark street. They were in the progress of having the gas street-lamps replaced by electrical once, but it was slow progress. And during it many streets stayed dark, since repairing gaslights when they were about to be replaced was a waste of resources according to the major. Hob didn’t care too much, he didn’t fear the dark.

He should have.

A dark figure stepped in front of him, barely noticeable in the moonlight. Turning around to run, he saw another figure blocking the other exit of the street and walking towards Hob. A flash of metal in the dark, a weapon. Hob swallowed, not because he was scared, he had survived much worse, but because it spelled trouble, and he couldn’t risk anyone finding out he was immortal. Not with times changing and hiding who he was becoming more and more difficult.

“Your money or your life,” Hob had to suppress a snort at the nasal voice. Ah, criminals, always the same no matter how many centuries passed. He remembered the time well, when he was in the other's position, stopping the carriages of rich folks and demanding the valuables. He had used the exact same words. Although, he guessed there was no much need for flair when it came to such simple matters.

“Alright, I will give you what I have. Please don’t hurt me,” Hob held up his hands, talking calm and trying not to provoke them. He couldn’t die, sure, but being stabbed hurt like a freaking bitch. Hob would rather part with some cash he had on hand and his watch. Nothing holding real value to him, and easy enough to replace. 

So very slowly and telegraphing his movement clearly, he reached inside his coat and pulled out his wallet, holding it out until it was snatched from his fingers. Next was his watch that got the same treatment. And still Hob was well-behaved, not struggling, calm and cooperating. He gave no reason for the situation to escalate, giving his robbers all chances to just leave now with their loot.

Which was why Hob was so surprised when pain exploded at the side of his head. He stumbled, his knee hitting the pavement, his palm getting scratched as he caught himself. Blinking, he tried to lift the haze from his thoughts as he looked up at the two shapes hovering above him. 

It was only instincts, honed through centuries with conflicts, that saved him, his head ducking automatically as he heard the swish of metal through the air. But just because the knife didn't slash his face didn't mean he was safe, as he was not as fortunate in avoiding the kick to his side. He cried out as pain exploded in his ribs. Every fiber of his being wanted him to curl up and protect his soft belly, but he forced down this instinct with gritted teeth. 

No, if you wanted to survive, you had to fight with everything you got. Using the momentum of the kick, he stumbled back to his feet, and got some distance between himself and the attackers. Despite the throbbing in his head, he now could see them more clearly, that was not the face of someone just messing around. No, they wore big smiles, and were enjoying his pain. They wouldn't stop. At least not on their own. 

One of them, heavy dark coat, spindly frame, soon ran towards Hob, knife in hand. Amateur movements. Hob stepped forward, getting close, deflected the blade by smacking the other's arm. His knee meets the other's stomach, sending him down. Before he could make sure he stayed down the other man, this one smaller but wider, jumped on him, and they tumbled to the ground.

That was fine. Hob knew how to wrestle and had the other in a chokehold in seconds. Still two against one, but he kicked out the legs of the man running towards him to tear him off his friend.

The body was suddenly in free-fall, arms whirling trying to get back balance. 

Then a sickening crunch and Hob froze.  

He had heard it often during his lifetime. He had sworn he would no longer be the cause of it. 

Looking over, he didn't need to see the neck bend in an awkward position to know the man was gone. 

Hob had killed him. He hadn't meant to, it had been an accident. But he had killed someone. 

After all the lifetime he had lead and all the killing and dying he had done, he had wanted to be done with it. He just wanted to live in peace and do let others do the same. But now he had ripped someone else out of their life. How could he live with himself knowing what he had just done. 

“Chris,” the man, Hob was still entangled on the ground with, cried out and struggled to free himself. Hob helped him as best as he could now that he was no longer in danger of being attacked. 

Getting up himself, he saw the man kneeling next to the body crying, shaking it and begging for Chris to open his eyes. The man didn’t. They never did. Once someone was gone, there was nothing you can do, no matter how you cried out to your stranger to spare them. 

Suddenly the man got up, swinging at Hob, but in his grief it had become uncoordinated and Hob easily stopped the punch. 

“You murderer! You killed him!”

He hadn’t meant to. And it wouldn’t have happened if they hadn’t attacked him. But pointing that out wouldn’t help, as the man would not listen to reason. He wanted someone to be angry at, to blame, to lessen his own guilt. And Hob was the perfect target. Hob stopped the other punch and just held on as the man cried. It was the least Hob could do.

There was the sound of footsteps in the distance, spooking the man, and he ripped himself free and started stumbling away. Hob didn’t stop him, just sitting down on the ground next to the cooling body and waited. He should probably call the police, but he couldn’t bring himself to move, so he just waited. How long he didn’t know, but at some point steps came closer and when he looked up Hob could see men in uniform entering the alley. The police has arrived. 

Hob didn’t resist when he was dragged up and cold iron snapped around his wrist. Neither when he was pulled away. Everything was a blur. He didn’t remember how they made it to the station, just that he found himself in a chair, an officer sitting on the other side of the desk staring him down.

He was asked questions he can’t answer, the full name of the victim, their relationship and most of all why he did it. All Hob can say is, it was an accident, I didn’t mean to, they attacked me first, I just tried to defend myself, then he fell. Over and over, he repeats it like a mantra. Something to hang on when everyone wants to make him believe he did it on purpose. When their words make him question himself. 

I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. I was just defending myself.

He didn’t know how much time has passed, there was no clock in the room nor window. His voice was rough and black spots dance on the edge of his vision, they hadn’t bothered giving him a glass of water. The blood in his hair from the first swing he took was dry and flaking off every time he shakes his head in denial. His ribs throb with every breath.

He was about to just nod, accept whatever they said if it meant he will be thrown into a cell where he could lay down and close his eyes. It would ruin his life, but wouldn’t that be right after what he had done? A few years of suffering was the least he deserved. Especially since he unlike others had the option to start anew after faking his death.

His downward spiral was stopped by a man bargain in, under loud protests of some officers. The man’s briefcase hit the desk hard, and Hob flinched back at the loud noise.

“Don’t say anything,” sharp blue eyes drilled into Hob’s making him cower at the imposing figure in front of him. The man commanded respect, not because of the nice suit he was wearing or the expensive jewelry or because he was even taller than Hob, but in the way he held himself, his presence filling the whole room. 

So Hob shut his mouth. It was not like anyone was really listening to what he had to say anyway. And not speaking would be good for the scratching in his throat. His fate now would be decided if the new person was a friend or someone wanting to drag him down. Hob didn’t have the strength to fight anymore.

“You,” the man whirled on the officer, making him duck on instinct, only to puff up and try to make himself more imposing when he noticed. “Tell me how it comes that you had him in here for 8 hours and couldn’t even be bothered to give him a glass of water nor give him medical attention? Where are we? At the witch trials,” Hob flinched hard at the words, remembering the trials only too well. Back then he had broken as well, admitting to anything as long as it meant the pain would end. 

To his surprise, the stranger pushed his briefcase further on the desk, blocking Hob’s slumped form from view and gave him at least a bit of privacy as he fought with his demons.

“He killed a man! What do you expect? A fluffed up pillow and a three-course meal?”

“Human decency!” The officer was now absolutely cowering under the pressure, despite his best efforts. “Or are you that desperate you couldn’t take the 10 minutes to have him checked over? Maybe because you know you don’t have a case?”

“Bullshit! I know you love to put your nose where it doesn’t belong, Mr. Henderson. He killed the guy. We found him next to the corpse, and he admitted it was him who made the deceased fall.”

“And wasn’t he also quite persistence that the deceased and another man were the once attacking him, and he was just defending himself? Or are you just going to ignore that? So I suggest instead of harassing the victim, you should rather be out there looking for the second attacker.”

And the officer, despite his complaints and grumbling, got up and left the room. There was no way to know if he was really searching for the other attacker, and if there was even a chance to find the man with how little information Hob had been able to give, but getting a breather was enough for Hob.

His head laid on the desk, the cold helping against his headache, and he just rested his eyes for a moment. He heard movement but ignored Mr. Henderson for now. Or at least he tried to, but the man kneeled down next to Hob’s chair and his hand laid on Hob’s knee. 

Blinking his eyes back open was an effort, but Hob managed and looked down at the concerned eyes looking up at him.

“Mr. Gadling, I wish could say it will be alright, but your situation doesn’t look good. But rest assured, I will do anything in my power to get you out of this.”

“I don’t think I have the money to pay your commission,” Hob was not poor. But the last years after he had fought with his friend, he had let himself go. Gambling, and throwing money at unnecessary luxuries just because he could. When he had pulled his head out of his ass, he had already spent most of his fortune and was now living like the middle class. Not bad, but not enough to pay a man wearing jewelry that could feed a family for at least a year.

“Don’t worry about money. Just focus on getting through this.”

Hob snorted, so either once he was out the man would make demands to be paid back another way, forcing Hob into his servitude, or he was just plain stupid. Saying that straight to the man’s face was not the best idea, but the man just laughed.

“Personally, I see myself as someone just trying to do the right thing, reforming the misdeeds in the justice system.”

So, delusional. But Hob could work with that. And having a delusional lawyer was better than not having one at all, so accepting the help would be best.

“The biggest problem is all we have to confirm your story is your word. Even if the police showed an ounce of competence and finds the other robber, he will tell his own story.” Hob knew all that. He didn’t know why the other even bothered, since there was no way he would get out of here. Not with everyone in the station being hellbent on making sure he went to prison. But at least he got to go to a holding cell for now and take a nap until Mr. Henderson would return the next day. 

And return he did with a big smile on his face. The police had not found the other robber, but they had found a woman hanging around the alleyway, and with a bit of pressure she had admitted to seeing the whole thing backing up Hob’s story. The officers complained and tried to poke holes in his defense, but in the end they had no other option but to accept that his actions had been to defend his own life. 

Things dragged on, Hob being pushed from one cell to the other as people discussed his fate. Mr. Henderson, please call me Edward, was there every step of the way and the only reason why Hob didn’t fell apart. 

Still, Hob couldn’t believe it when the judge finally spoke the words not guilty, and he was stepping into the sun. Till the last moment he had waited for the second shoe to drop, for someone to jump out and present new evidence sending him to jail.

Turning to Edward standing beside him, smiling brightly, he couldn’t help himself, but pulling the man into his arms and thanking him under tears. The man had been there for him, like a true friend, and if he ever needed it, Hob would be there for him in return.

He had lost his stranger, but he was not alone. There were good people out there, just waiting for him. All Hobs had to do was open his heart and accept them. 

With this being over, Hob could move on with his life. Things finally looked up. Or they did until he found out he had no longer a job because of his long absence and his old boss was unwilling to hire a killer despite Hob being proclaimed not guilty. Hob didn’t understand it, but he was unwilling to start a fight. He could find someplace else. Only words of his case had spread through the whole city, and no one was willing to hire him. And without a job there was no money which meant he would be unable to pay his upcoming rent.

But nothing he tried worked. The only positions willing to hire him wouldn’t even make a dent in his rent, even if he had three jobs. And with the housing shortage, there was no place else he could live that would be cheaper. He could move, somewhere no one knew him. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave London. This was his home, where his only friend lived. And he had to be here in a few years to be at the White Horse in case his stranger returned. 

He could ask Edward for help, but he didn’t want it to seem he was just after the other's money. Especially with Edwards business taking a major hit after a person he was defending was proven guilty. Hob tried to help as best as he could behind closed doors but knew he couldn’t do more since it wouldn’t look good on Edward if he was seen with Hob. 

It was a major point of friction. Edward didn’t care about his reputation and had no trouble inviting Hob out for dinner or even hiring him. But Hob refusing frustrated him, especially when Hob even declined his money, despite Edward knowing how much Hob was struggling. He just wanted to support his best friend and being unable to do so and just having to watch how he made himself smaller and smaller, shrinking under all negative attention focused on him angered him.

Their love for each other made them want the best for each other. And it tore their friendship apart. They were unable to spend time together without a disagreement, and then their friendship ended in a big fight. 

And it was Hob fault. He always said the wrong thing, turning away the people he cared about. First his stranger now Edward. Maybe he was meant to be alone.

But the world didn’t stop for his emotional turmoil. The rent needed to be paid, now especially since there was no longer a friend who would have a place on their sofa for Hob to sleep on. And Hob really needed to keep a roof over his head. 

He was terrified of ending back on the street. He did it once, and it was the worst time of his life. Just a nightmare of pain, suffering, anger, blood, and a desperate fight for survival. He knew getting back up once you were so far down was almost impossible. He couldn’t let it get this far. Not if there was something he could do. Even if it means he had to let go of his pride.

The first time wasn’t planed. Was just walking, trying to clear his head and finding a way out. The window was open, everything else dark, and no car in the driveway. He knew it was wrong, he should be better than this. 

He climbed the fence and slipped through the window, heart beating fast as he listened for any sign of life inside the house. Nothing. Sneaking around, he grabbed anything of value. 

Ten minutes later he was out, pockets heavy, and on his way to the pawnshop. It was not enough to pay the rent but enough to satisfy his landlord getting another week before he would be kicked out. 

It made him think about how easy it had been. And how little effort had taken to get the money. And it was not as if he hadn’t tried other options. It was them, society, not giving him a choice. If they had just given him a job, he wouldn’t be in this position. It was their fault, not his. 

And it was not as if he had hurt anyone. A few valuables were gone. And? They could replace it, their house had been nice enough they could afford a small loss like that.

Yes. It was the least all of them deserved for letting him down like this. He would just take what he needed to survive. And it was only temporary until he was back on his feet. They all thought he was a murderer, a bit of stealing was nothing in comparison.

It became a routine, going on nightly strolls and returning with his pocket full. He was good at it. Always knew when someone was home or not, avoided being seen when he made his way inside, and didn’t spend a second longer inside than he had to.

No one had to know what Hob did. Well except, the pawnshop owner, but he didn’t say anything and just gave Hob a price much under the actual value of the items. Hob was fine with that. Paying hush money was better than being ratted out to the police. Especially since the police so far had no idea he even existed. There was always breaking and entering, and he chose his targets so far apart there was no connection. The cops had better things to do than chasing a criminal that didn’t cause real harm. And Hob liked things that way. He had managed to avoid prison once, he didn’t want to risk it, especially since this time there would be no Edward bailing him out.

His rent was paid, he had food in his belly and a new coat. Life was good. Or it should be. There was still the guilt nagging at him that all of this wasn’t his. That he had stolen it and it was wrong. But with every failed attempt to find another source of income, he fell deeper into his ways. It was just too easy. Until weeks passed by without him searching for a legitimate job. 

~1989~

He started hating the man he was becoming. Or rather, he was returning to. He had thought he had become better, had changed. But now he was back at square one. Just a lowlife surviving by harming others. He didn’t want to be like this.

But there was still hope. One last chance to turn things around. Hob may not have the best moral compass – if he had any at all- but his stranger always knew right from wrong. Even before society or law. It had taken him to tell Hob for Hob to realize slavery was wrong. Today it was unthinkable, but back then it has just been how things were. And even then his stranger had known it was wrong. Hob just had to tell him, and his stranger would set him right and correct Hob’s course for the next 100 years.

Yes, all Hob had to do was meet his friend and things would be okay. So he drove to the White Horse in a car he had stolen, full of excitement in the prospect of the weight leaving his chest. He would do better, become good. To get his stranger approval.

But the longer he sat there, alone, the worse he felt. It looked like this was his stranger's answer. They were never and never would be friends. Hob was alone, on his own. There was no one who cared. No one who had any expectations, everyone had given up on him. Why should he even try? If there was no one to judge him, why not make things easy for himself?

Things escalate from there, as there is nothing holding Hob back. So what if the houses he breaks into now are not from some rich fucks but middle class as well? They had shunned him just as well. And their security was a lot laxer. Also, less to steal, but it was enough. And then there was someone home, but the house was way too good to pass up on. But it was okay, he would just be quiet. 

A good plan if not for the man of the house stepping out of his bed to get a glass of water just as Hob was clearing out their silver drawer. They looked at each other frozen, and Hob was glad for the hat and the scarf hiding most of his face. 

Before the other could too much than let out a shocked shout, Hob had jumped over the counter and tackled him to the ground, choking him until he lost conscious. When the wife appeared in the doorway, he was prepared, knocking her unconscious.

He used things found around the house to bind them to two chairs and gag them, before taking his time emptying their whole house. They would call the police anyway, Hob could at least make it worth it. And worth it, it was. He left the pawnshop with a big bundle of cash.

And if he spotted some rich folks taking a shortcut through a dark allay, well then it was their own fault, since they had begged for it. You couldn’t blame Hob for standing there with a knife demanding their valuables in a sick play on the situation that had started this whole thing. But other than his attackers back then, he was just after the money. Once he had what he wanted, he let his victims go unharmed. 

He didn’t kill. That was a line he would never cross again. And if he had to attack someone or render them unconscious, he did it with causing as little harm as possible. It was something which baffled the police and press alike, as they couldn’t decide if he was a monster or a gentleman thief. It was kinda amusing reading about people losing their mind trying to figure him out. Especially since it was that easy. He was just someone no longer following societies rules and just living by his own codex, doing whatever he pleased.

Even if this codex was completely screwed. Like right now, still blood on his knuckles from having to knock someone out who resisted, but being offended by a bunch of teens ganging up on a gangly little thing. It just strokes him wrong, seeing something like this. 

But it is not his problem. There is no need to get involved.

Or at least it wasn’t until the boy rose his head and looked straight at Hob. Dark brown eyes, with hair of the same color. But that was not what stopped Hob in his tracks. He looked just like Robyn. Well, not exactly, it was more the vibes he was giving up. But Hob couldn’t stop seeing his son laying there on the ground beaten and bloody, his tormentors surrounding him.

He moved before he really thought about it. 

His fist connected with the nose of the guy to the left. The bone crunched under the impact and the guy stumbled back, shouting in pain. That got the attention of the rest of his group, who instantly stepped in to avenge their friend. With no option to back out of this anymore, Hob just went with the flow and beat everyone getting into punching distance. They had the numbers, but they were untrained and rather stood in each other's way than taken advantage and overpowering Hob. Which leads to Hob standing between fallen bodies, breathing heavy and blood on his shirt but mostly unharmed beside a few bruises. 

Walking over to the fallen boy, he saw him flinch. Hob hadn’t meant to scare him, although the display of violence must have been frightening. But he didn’t feel comfortable leaving him sitting on the ground with unknown injuries, especially since his attackers would get up soon. 

He wanted to gain the boy's trust, but Hob had forgotten how to be comforting and soft. Hadn’t had need for it in years. Even for Edward, he had not managed to bring back that part of himself. Which was just as well because Edward liked his brash and direct way.

But now he tried, crouching down, holding out his hands and speaking softly. “It's okay. I took care of them,” well, he tried. He failed miserably, sounding more threatening than reassuring, but he had tried. How had he managed to deal with Robyn without frightening the child? He couldn’t remember. And wasn’t that sad? Not remembering this everyday life with his son, only holding some special memories close to his heart while the rest faded?

Knowing that his presence would only distress the boy more, he got up and turned to leave. He would just call the police to check things out, once he was far enough away. Only there was a tug on his pant leg and turning he saw the boy grasping the fabric with shaking fingers. The big teary eyes looking up at Hob broke his heart, and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning down again and pulling the boy into his arms. Crying and wailing filled the alley, but the boy clung to Hob desperately. 

Carrying him into his arm and towards Hob’s apartment, reminded Hob of the times Robyn had been unable to sleep and Hob had walked through the whole house with the child in his arm to keep him calm, while Elenore watched them with a smile. He had forgotten it until his actions pulled the memory back up.

Entering his building, he sat the boy on his sofa and retrieved his extensive med-kit. Being unable to die meant treating injuries yourself that would bring up questions, going to the hospital. He didn’t need much of it to treat the boy. The injuries had looked worse than they actually were. A bloody nose, bruising, scratched hands and knees, a gash close to his hairline that luckily didn’t need stitches, and a cracked wrist. 

Once the task was done, Hob looked at the boy awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

“You want tea?” You could never go wrong with tea. The boy nodded and Hob set to work, returning with two mugs of tea.

“Thank you,” the voice was shy and soft. But at least the shaking had stopped as the kid started to relax.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hob meant it. Neither the tea nor stepping in had been much trouble, and Hob had done it for his own piece of mind. There was no need t thank him.

Hob swirled the tea in his mug, not knowing what to say. Should he give the kid money for a taxi? Take him home? Offer him the sofa for tonight? Hob didn’t know. 

Luckily for him, the boy was not as incapable of social interaction as he was.

“My name is Georgie Baldwin. What about you.”

“Hob,” he didn’t give a last name. The less the boy knew, the better it was for him with the life Hob lived.

“Thank you for saving me, Hob,” the boy put down his empty mug, hugged Hob and then left the apartment before Hob could compose himself. He looked at the closed door not understanding what exactly had happened, but then he just shrugged. Another weird day in his weird life. No need to think deeper about it. It was not as if hew would see the boy ever again.

After cleaning up the medical equipment, he laid in bed, unable to sleep. 

The encounter had brought up memories of a happier time. It made him realize just how lonely he felt. There was a gnawing emptiness in his chest, where his heart once was. He wanted someone to be there for him, to greet him when he got home, to care if he made it home. He didn’t want t be alone anymore. But every time he tried he messed up and ended up back alone. It was better to not try, and be disappointed rather than to suffer.

But knowing that didn’t fill the emptiness in his chest and no matter how much he tried he didn’t find any rest. Which left him cranky and short temperate when he stomped to the door, mug with extra strong coffee in hand, to tell whoever was on the other side to fuck off. Throwing the door open, he came face to face with the kid from yesterday.

The door banged close, as Hob didn’t have the patience to deal with whatever bullshit this was. Instead, he took a big swing of his coffee, cursed as it burned his tongue, and debated if a nice fluffy omelet was worth the effort of actually making it. 

His doorbell chimed again.

Hadn’t he been clear enough in his dismissal? But no, when he opened the door, the boy was still standing there smiling at him. What a prick. But not stupid, as he held out a bag that smelled heavenly of backed goods as bribery. 

With his stomach grumbling, Hob admitted defeat and took the bag, leaving the door open as he stepped inside. The boy had already been here, it wouldn’t do any harm to let him in. But Hob was not in the mood to play good host right now and didn’t offer any tea or coffee. Ripping open the bag, he found muffins and chocolate croissants. All things considered, it was a good bribe.

Humming happily, he dug in as the boy sat down watching him carefully. 

“So what so you want kid?” 

“It’s Georgie,” the way the kid pouted was kinda cute. He must have old ladies want to feed him all over town. “I want you to teach me how to fight.” Hob choked on the bit of croissant. He couldn’t say if it was his immortality or Georgie slapping his back that prevented him from entering the sunless lands. Whipping tears out of his eyes, he looked at the kid as if he had lost his mind.

“Are you completely crazy? Why would you ask me?”

 “The way you fought was amazing. Please, I want to be able to do it too.”

“Hard pass. Why the heck should I teach a brat?”

“I can pay you,” the kid dove for his pocket and placed a stack of bills on the table. It was no small amount. So, a rich brat. Well, it was not as Hob really needed money with how well his business was going. And he would rather not involve the kid by accident. If he went down for his actions it was one thing but dragging a kid down with him was completely different. And if he gave in now, he just knew the kid would one day rob houses side by side with him.

“Pass. Go home kid. You are young and have a bright life ahead of you. There is no need to get involved with the likes of me.”

“But what if they come back?! I need to be able to defend myself,” Hob just groaned as this was just playing unfair. Especially since it was a fair point. The bullies had found him once, and there was no guarantee they wouldn’t do worse when Hob was not close by to step in. It was just unfair. Hob was not responsible for the kid, could barely remember his name. But he had made it his responsibility when he stepped in. The least he could do was see things through now.

“Okay fine. I will teach you self-defense. Nothing more. And you will stay out of my business.”

“Deal,” the kid smiled brightly as he held out his hand for Hob to shake. Knowing that one day he would regret this Hob took the offered hand.

[bitter69uk]

“More revered than actually listened to, model / actress / Warhol superstar Nico (née Christa Paffgen) began her musical career as the hidden razor blade in the Velvet Underground’s Halloween apple. Her icy beauty and bloodless Teutonic “singing” cut through the group’s cacophony with a soporific poignancy on 1967’s The Velvet Underground and Nico, where she was simply billed as “chanteuse.” It’s as apt a description as any for her sibilant, enunciatory mono-drone – and her enduring appeal. Nico left the group amicably; half the songs on Chelsea Girl, her ’67 solo debut, were written by Velvets Lou Reed, John Cale and Sterling Morrison. The other half include covers of Dylan’s “I’ll Keep It with Mine” and Tim Hardin’s “Eulogy to Lenny Bruce” and three songs written by her then-teenage accompanist (and roommate) Jackson Browne. In a merger of folk and neoclassical traditions, the LP’s artfully arranged guitars, strings and wind instruments provide both the rhythm (in lieu of bass and drums) and the melody. Nico’s bummed-but-not-unbowed vocals transform songs about small uncertainties and faint hopes into lush melancholia, the inspiration for many a rainy-day miserabilist. The title track, a seemingly blasé accounting of Chelsea Hotel residents who appear in Warhol’s film epic Chelsea Girls, is an exquisitely dreary time capsule, capturing the dark cloud inside Andy’s silver-lined Factory.” / David A Keeps in March 1995 issue of Details magazine / 57 years ago this month (October 1967), the late, great heroin-ravaged, wraith-cheekboned German diva, Velvet Underground chanteuse, actress, fashion model, Warhol Superstar, Moon Goddess and “Marlene Dietrich of Punk” Nico released her debut solo album Chelsea Girl. This sublimely gloomy glass-half-empty urban folk music makes for ideal autumnal listening. Is there any higher praise than "exquisitely dreary"? 

[orionsangel86]

Subtext Glorious Subtext! A Dreamling on Netflix analysis in The Sandman - Part 6

1889

What love story is complete without a dramatic break up in the rain?

In the Sandman comic (and therefore also the Audible audiobook) this century starts the same way as the show, with Dream being accosted by Lushing Lou and that hilariously historically accurate yet mildly disturbing line “give us a hard ride on your cream stick”.

In the show, Hob overhears this and comes to meet Dream and to “save” him from Lou by giving her money to buy herself a drink. He apologises to Dream for her behaviour towards him.

This doesn’t happen in the comic. Dream simply walks past Lou and meets Hob where he is already sat in the tavern.

A minor change, but one that adds to the scene in a few ways:

It indicates that Hob was paying greater attention to the door waiting for Dream - in the show, he was more eager to meet him again.

It shows a level of care on Hob’s part to ensure that Dream has a comfortable visit. He overhears the run-in in the comic, but makes no effort to get involved. In the show, he takes a greater interest in ensuring Dream is not insulted or met with aggression - a follow on from his clear concern and care for Dream that was first implied in 1789. Basically, he has once again come to Dream’s defence.

He apologises for Lou’s behaviour. Which indicates that he feels a level of responsibility towards Dream and anything that may happen to him whilst he is visiting Hob.

All these minor elements add up to indicate that show!Hob at this point already sees Dream as someone to care for, defend, and feel responsible for on their visits. He has placed himself in the position of protector and companion to Dream. This is an easy interpretation to get from their dynamic in the show, as evidenced by the thousands of fanfictions on AO3 in which Hob is portrayed as rescuer, liberator, saviour, knight, or simply carer of Dream (all roles that I find difficult picturing comic!Hob taking on, because he is such a selfish hedonistic character in the comic).

The conversation in the show takes an interesting diversion from the comic, in which Dream defends Lou from Hob's joking insults about her. It shows a level of care for people that comic!Dream doesn't have (at least at this point). It also indicates an ability which I can't recall comic!Dream ever using. He reveals the tragedies of her past prompting Hob to once again ask about Dream. Where Comic!Hob is too self absorbed to even bother to ask more about Dream at this point, instead going off on tangents about other immortals he has met, Show!Hob is entirely focused on Dream. Show!Hob is persistent here, he doesn't let Dream change the subject, we can tell that by this century, he is getting fed up of being kept in the dark about the identity of his mysterious stranger, someone it is clear he is growing feelings for even without knowing his name.

When Dream once again changes the subject to talk about Lady Johanna and the task she did for him, unlike his comic counterpart, Hob is wistful and sad when he says "That might be the only thing I've learned after 500 years."

The show uses Hob's desire to know more about Dream as a repeating motif throughout their meetings, in a way the comics never did. It makes us as the audience root for Hob and want Dream to reveal who he is. This is another clever way the show is encouraging the audience to invest in their relationship. The show is telling us this is important. Watch how Dream holds back, how he refuses to reveal anything. There is a subtextual message here which encourages the audience to expect an eventual reveal, even if we do not see it. As I mentioned in part 5, Dream revealling his name to Hob has become a Chekov's gun of a kind, and Hob will get his name in the show, even if we as the audience don't see it on screen.

Hob comments that "people are always better than you think they are." and then jokes that he's not like that, that he is still the same as ever. and he winks at Dream as he says it, causing Dream to smile and state that he thinks Hob has changed. It's subtle, but the exchange shows how they have grown at ease with one another, and arguably this could be considered flirting, depending on whose watching. I quite like the change here not to bring up the slave trade again. I think the way Hob lets out that shuddered breath and talks about the mistakes he has made is enough in this version of the story. We aren't forgiving him for this. But the tone isn't right in this particular scene, which instead keeps the focus on the building buds of friendship that are clearly growing between these two extremely flawed people, before it all comes crumbling down.

There is a brilliant meta with full gifsets from @mimisempai here which breaks down all of the subtle expressions as Dream and Hob have this conversation, where for a tiny moment Dream appears to relax and look almost proud of Hob for growing into a better man. They exchange gorgeous shy smiles and for a moment the scene becomes intense, as if the characters are standing on a precipice waiting for something to happen.

But then it all goes wrong. The preceding scene, and the preceding centuries, have clearly had an impact on Hob, and he views Dream as someone important, someone special to him. It is on the foolish hopes of an overt optimist that he pushes Dream beyond his comfort levels. He proposes that they are friends, he dares to make an assumption about Dream, he calls him lonely.

He is, of course, totally correct.

But Dream is not at a point yet where he is ready to hear such things. In the comic, this plays out slightly differently. Hob rambles as follows:

But in the show, the conversation goes like this:

Dream: I think perhaps you've changed.

Hob: Well, I may have learnt a bit from my mistakes, but it doesn't seem to stop me from making them.

Dream: *Smiles proudly giving Hob some extra confidence*

Hob: I think its you that's changed.

Dream *smile immediately drops because the thought of changing is something he is soooo not ready to accept* How so?

Hob: *Leaning in, going for it* I think I know why we still meet here century after century. It's not because you want to know if I'm ready to seek death, I don't think I'll ever seek death. By now you know that about me. So I think you're here for something else.

Dream: And what might that be?

Hob: Friendship? I think you're lonely.

Dream: You dare...

Hob: No, look, I'm not saying-

Dream: You DARE suggest one such as I might need your companionship?

Hob: *with shakey breath because this clearly means so much to him* Yes. Yes I do.

Dream: Then I shall take my leave of you and prove you wrong.

Sorry for writing out the whole transcript here but its important to see how the conversation was changed to be much more intimate and personal. In particular I find it veeeery interesting how instead of Hob saying "I've seen people, and they don't change, not in the important things." we get both Dream AND Hob stating that they believe the other HAS changed.

I know its only a minor line, but given the grander changes to the netflix show and the tone of the show in particular, this particular line change feels very intentional.

I love that as Dream goes to leave, Hob tried to move closer, to reach out to him, it indicates just how much he wants to build a connection with Dream and how much he cares, and it makes it all so much more intense than the comic.

In the comic, its interesting that Dream focuses on the "you called me lonely" part as the main insult here. It is the show that gives bigger weight to "you dared to suggest we may be friends, therefore I am going to PROVE YOU WRONG." Which at least on a subtextual level, can be read to indicate a fear of developing feelings and forming relationships. It's also worth noting that the show removed any indication that Dream considers Hob to be "mortal" now.

Then we get to the most dramatic moment in the entire MoGF sequence. A classic romantic trope that we have all seen done countless times before in countless love stories between countless couples, and yet here it is again between Dream and Hob.

As Dream storms off, of course Hob runs out to follow him (I particularly love how in the show, Dream doesn't grab his coat or hat when he leaves like he does in the comic, which leaves it open as to what happened to them - and I love how in fanfiction its revealled that Hob kept hold of them over the years as the only items of Dream's he had along with the picture from 1689). In the show, the rain falls heavily over both of them further emphasising the heightened emotions and dramatic situation - we all love a dramatic rain soaked break up after all! :P

I brought this scene in 1889 up in this meta which is a collaborative analysis of Hob and Dream's relationship, and it is also emphasised in this meta by @academicblorbo, but it is worth mentioning again because of how much of an impact this particular change has:

There's a big difference between a fairly nonchalant lean against the door in the comic and the visually upset, rainsoaked Hob from the show shouting out "FUCK" as he watches Dream storm off.

That final "FUCK" isn't in either comic or Audible book, because Hob in the comic/Audible book isn't nearly as bothered by Dream's leaving.

The way show!Hob is so very different from comic!Hob blows my mind once you break it down, but it is his interest, care, and concern for Dream that really speaks volumes and makes it so easy to interpret his feelings for Dream as more than just platonic.

Next up, the heartbreaking missed 1989 meeting and how the timeline change has given Dream and Hob's relationship far more romantic implications in part 7.