#lushing 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This is an issue full of historical references, and it was great to look at it from this angle.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?

[marciabrady]

"As Cora, Lana was costumed throughout in a stark white wardrobe. Her hair was a snowy white as well, and against a deep suntan she acquired for the role, the effect was startling. At the time, Life predicted Lana's all-white wardrobe would 'become historic.' More recently, director Garnett recalled the incentive for this striking conversation piece: 'The white clothing was something that Carey (Wilson) and I thought of. At that time there was a great problem of getting a story with that much sex past the censors. We figured that dressing Lana in white somehow made everything she did seem less sensuous. It was also attractive as hell. And it somehow took a little of the stigma off everything that she did. They didn't have 'hot pants' then, but you couldn't tell it by looking at hers.' "The 'hot pants' referred to by Garnett was actually a two-piece playsuit designed by MGM's Irene and her associate, Marion Herwood Keyes. It was so effective at the time that it helped popularize the vogue for women's shorts. This is the outfit that Cora is wearing when she makes her first breahtaking entrance into the film. The scene begins as a lipstick rolls across the floor. Frank Chambers (Garfield) stoops to retrieve it and his eyes hit upon a figure in the doorway. At first glance, it appears to be an apparition. The camera slowly scans the figure from her white high heels, up her slim naked legs, to her white form-fitting shorts and well-filled blouse. Finally, it settles on her face and her lush, platinumed hair, so perfectly encased in a white turban." -Lou Valentino

LANA TURNER in THE POSTMAN ALWAYS RINGS TWICE — 1946

[lalathemediterraneanmermaid]

Saligia kingdoms as real life countries Pt.1

My dear Concordians, how have you been? Is your magic improving? I'm here to tell you something I've just discovered, so take a break from your studies and pay close attention. Are you ready?

Legend has it that Saligia, our world, was created by "The Creator" in the "magical realm" trying to mimic another world called "Earth." No one knows if this legend is true, but as a student at the Royal Academy of Concordia, I became deeply fascinated by this strange world called "Earth." So, I took all the free time I had (which, for some reason, seems to be quite a lot) and barricaded myself in the library to read and learn everything I could about this strange world from which Sagilia was allegedly created. But it wasn’t enough, so I went to annoy a little bit our beloved headmaster Lou (muahahahaha).

After almost getting myself kicked out of the academy for becoming Lou’s shadow, I managed to find the information I was looking for. So, to spare you the trouble I went through, I bring you everything I’ve discovered so far for your enjoyment.

Well, it turns out that "Earth" does exist, and the creatures that inhabit it, humans, are just like us—well, ALMOST like us. They don't have MAGIC! How are they able to live without magic? Anyway, let’s get to the important stuff. Earth is made up of several continents, which in turn are divided into countries, and there are so many of them—195 different countries! Each one with its own customs, traditions, foods, landscapes, languages, etc. I have no doubt I’ll investigate every single one of these countries because each one is a completely different world…

Well, I'm getting off track. It turns out that the 7 main kingdoms of Saligia (Invidia, Akedia, Qelsum, Avari, Luxure, Voleri, and Ira), along with the small Isle of Colde, where we study, have similarities with very specific countries from Earth! Do you want to know which ones? There we go then!

Kingdom of Invidia - The Netherlands

Invidia, known as the Land of Blooms. Where the flowers are not only those growing from the soil but also the people, especially Roy *wink wink*. Settlers crafted this land to be a garden of their very own, worthy of envy. A beautiful kingdom adorned with flowers of every color, Invidians specialize in silverwork and other crafts that require a delicate touch. Their main exports include gorgeous blossoms and ornate silverware.

And how are Invidia and the Netherlands similar? The Netherlands is a nation famous for its dedication to design, craftsmanship, and its floral industry, with a large export of flowers, especially tulips.

Kingdom of Akedia - Spain

Akedia, Land of Forests. Lovers of peace and indolence, this land was chosen for its napping qualities. The mild climate of this kingdom gives it a lush, green landscape. With so many relaxing resorts, this land attracts a large number of tourists. The former Kingdom of Tristitas falls under Akedian domain. Main exports relate to bedding.

Actually, this one is quite similar to a country named Spain. Spain is world-renowned for its pleasant climate, its green landscapes in the interior and northern regions of the peninsula, its relaxed culture (there is a stereotype that people in Spain sleep a lot; I'm not one to deny it, but it seems they have a custom of taking a few hours' nap after lunch, called "siesta"), and its great tourist appeal with an emphasis on relaxation, festive culture, and hospitality. Additionally, the country has a very strong textile industry, being one of the main global references in fashion. And the most curious thing of all is that in Spain, there are regions like the Basque Country and the former Valencian Countries, which resemble the kingdom of Tristitas, with their own language and unique customs, despite being part of the same country. Also the food in this country seems to be the best in their world, I'm dying to try it!

Kingdom of Qelsum - Norway

Qelsum, also known as the Land of Ice. Just hearing the name of this kingdom makes me cold, someone bring me a blanket please. Proud and disdainful of aggression, settlers chose this land for its defensive capabilities. A third of this land is covered in ice, making it a harsh environment in which to survive. Qelsans single-handedly control the post for all of the magical realm, and they also govern part of the former Kingdom of Vanum. They are known for their chocolate (the main reason I love this kingdom along with Toa hehe).

Qelsum has been difficult to identify in Earth since there were so many countries with the same cold and hasrh characteristics such as Sweeden, Finland, Iceland... But in the end I went with Norway. Norway is known for its stunning fjords, snow-capped mountains, and icy landscapes that evoke the harshness and beauty of Qelsum. This type of environment perfectly reflects a kingdom covered in ice and with a hostile climate. Also, I wanna highlight the chocolate aspect. It seems that the Nordic countries and Central Europe generally have excellent chocolate. However, I believe that "The Creator," while drawing inspiration from Norway for the conception of Qelsum, definitely also took inspiration from Belgium and its chocolate industry, integrating it into Qelsum to create the best chocolate in Saligia. And it’s no surprise, with all that cold weather, a good cup of hot chocolate is always appreciated.

Gosh this post is turning to be so long, and the last thing I want is having you all bored with this, so I guess I'll have to divide this in two posts. Soooooo see you all my beloved Concordians on the next post of "Saligia kingdoms as real life countries", in the next one I'll be covering Avari, Luxure, Voleri, Ira and our little island, Colde. Bye!!

Author's note: Obviously, none of this information has been confirmed by the developers and creators of the game; it’s just the opinion of a girl who’s way too bored, despite having too many things to do.

[avelera]

Thinking about the lovely “New Inn Through the Ages” post by @virgo-dream in terms of alternatives to the popular “Hob built the New Inn for Dream after the missed 1989 meeting” headcanon.

- Quick disclaimer, this headcanon always mildly (and irrationally, this is fandom after all) irked me because to my pedantic, archaeology-obsessed ass, the New Inn was obviously visually at least 200 years old just based on the brick work so “built” never really worked, at most Hob could have purchased or renovated it if it was in response to 1989. To some that’s splitting hairs but what can I say, I never pretended to be rational about dumb history stuff.

- THAT SAID, it would be kind of interesting if Hob does own the New Inn but not necessarily since 1989, but even earlier. It could even be interesting for him to have built the New Inn in truth but back in the 1700s when the building was actually built.

- Hob appears not just comfortable at the White Horse in its 1889 but at the very least a regular. He recognizes Lou on sight and names her immediately, he knows her nickname at the establishment. This familiarity doesn’t track if this is his first time at the White Horse since 1789.

- After 1689, Hob appears to have opted to buy out a private room for them for their discussion, perhaps in response to his return in fortunes but also perhaps based on the memory of being nearly thrown out in 1689 and interrupted by Shaxberd in 1589. The guy is learning how to better manage their encounters. So it stands to reason that after they were interrupted by Constantine in 1789 as a result of her paying off the proprietor, that Hob would simply buy out the inn for 1889.

- Hob owning the White Horse in 1889 actually rather tracks with his familiarity with Lushing Lou and the fact that he’s so at ease there and clearly arrived well before Dream. He speaks to Lou with authority and is dressed with signs of at least middle class prosperity. Being the owner of the White Horse tracks with that level of prosperity shown, nothing flashy, after all it’s in a bad part of town these days.

- Thing is, Hob has a mind for business as we see in numerous instances at the centennial meetings. As a result, to me, it wholly tracks that he wouldn’t stop at buying the White Horse, he’d also purchase a few neighboring taverns and inns once he got a hang of the business. (Consolidation of neighborhood pubs under mega corporation ownership in the 1990s is its own interesting side note on this because again, I’m a history nerd.) The New Inn is presented as so close to the White Horse that a graffiti arrow is enough to point it out. That’s very close indeed.

- SO, I think from this it’s reasonable to say that Hob could very well have owned the New Inn as part of one of his business ventures since the 19th century or earlier, perhaps even as a result of the 1789 meeting and “Finding another pub”, perhaps even building the New Inn then in truth either before or after the meeting as an alternative in case another lunatic Constantine shows up. It’s so close by he might have hoped he could persuade Dream with its proximity.

- Right then, if that’s true, why can’t Hob save the White Horse?

- Perhaps after 1889 he simply sold his ownership stake in it. Heartbroken and angry at himself, especially if he’d provided all these contingencies like the New Inn in case of interruptions or other disasters, he might have just felt as much like a fool as in 1589 when he tried to provide a fine meal. Probably best to just give up and stop trying to control matters, since look where that got him.

- So he sells the White Horse. But the other inns don’t have the same emotional stake and business is business, so he sets those up with a “family trust” to keep running, lending the building out to different managers, etc. and simply carries on.

- Cue his look of devastation in 1989 upon learning the White Horse is going to shut down. If he once owned it, it might be a particular gut punch to know he could have prevented this if he hadn’t let his bitterness get the better of him. Despite his best efforts, he can’t prevent it from being condemned.

- LUCKILY he still had his own business interests nearby in the form of those pubs he built or bought centuries ago. He dusts off his paperwork around the New Inn and reassumes direct management (or at least, his nephew does in a few years). The 1789 “nearby pub” contingency might just pay off in the 21st century, who knows? And it worked!

And there you have it. My take on how Hob could have built the New Inn starting from its actual original construction. Very fun to consider too when you check out Virgo’s post and discover that a Mr. Hobert did indeed own it at one point ;)

[posttexasstressdisorder]

So, much to my embarrassment, I totally seem to have not registered that Brian Wilson died. Until yesterday, when we heard about Lou Christie.

Wilson was rock history personified. The Beach Boys aren't (and weren't) everybody's cup of tea, but you had to just stand slack-jawed and gobsmacked at the very SOUND of their records. It was RADIO HIT after RADIO HIT...until it wasn't.

Then they got weird and arty and Brian and reality got further and further apart. We've all read the stories of how he had a sandbox under his grand piano at home so he could feel like he was at the beach when he composed...his years as a recluse, and his various "come-backs"...but those records...those records.

The thing was, Brian, in the guise of the Beach Boys, gave us an entire genre of rock, neatly tied up in a bow. Surf Music Personified. In the early and mid '60s, California was where everyone who felt out of place in their own hometown wanted to be. It was the American Promised Land for young people, and Brian and his brothers and cousin personified the people living the dream.

But then it all changed. Those records still stand monumentally tall. But then everything changed...and Brian's genius went in monumentally odd places (see: all the VanDyke Parks songs on "Surf's Up") and his studio genius gave us THIS: the perfect RADIO SONG for one of the most PIVOTAL YEARS of rock/pop/soul music, 1966:

Inescapable on the radio, and kept in rotation for years and years after it came out. You couldn't find it on LP. It was only this 45. It was eventually included in the Warner Bros-era "Greatest Hits", which was a mostly poorly-chosen selection of their lesser tracks from the later years. The stand-outs are, again, Brian's weird collaborations with poet VanDyke Parks. Surf's Up was a masterpiece that nobody bought.

This will always been my favorite off the record, and I like this video someone put together:

The Beach Boys had a resurgence of sorts in the mid '70s, when Capitol put out "Endless Summer", the 2-LP greatest hits. Still didn't include "Good Vibrations", even though it was issued on Capitol. This marked the first of Brian's "comebacks", and the band trotted him out, and put out "16 Big Ones", an assortment of short songs mostly in their old style, but the lushness just wasn't there. They made the rounds, were even on Johnny Carson (about whom Brian wrote a song).

Legends are always leaving.

It's been a rough ten years for rock Legends.

RIP Brian...I hope you're at the beach.

[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.

[ceedaryaps]

SOTR Yapp Sesh Part 2!

Hello, once again, this is going to be part two of my Sunrise on the Reaping review. This is going to be all about the actual games themselves. All right, let's goooooo.

Everything is too pretty, that is like the first thing that came to my mind when I was reading the description that Haymitch had in his head of the arena. Everything is bright and lush, tall Grass forest trees everywhere, just everything looks beautiful, clear blue skies, you can see the water in the background, and everything is just clear and nice. That is pretty much how I envisioned Wonderland as a kid. I knew that something is up and the first thing that tipped me off to anything being wrong was the the smell was like one of the first things that he described when he went into the arena it was like he fell into a haze or something like that I just KNEW this is going to be some sort of psychedelic type thing. Microdosing at its finest.

And then in the first review, didn't really mention his whole deal with Amphert and Beetee about you know destroying the arena, cuz I wanted it to include it more in this part. Haymitch immediately starts on this mission. He goes straight north. He was trying to look for the berms and stops by a stream, he takes a sip and it tastes funny to him, kinda like metallic, which he pretty much shrugs off, UNTIL he sees a rabbit take a sip too, and what does it do? The rabbit dies like instantly. Just drops dead.

 THAT'S WHERE WE FIND OUT EVERYTHING IS POISONED. 

All the pretty fruit on the trees, poison, the water, poison, flowers, probably poisonous. But Haymitch got lucky because he had some charcoal on him, otherwise, he would have died. If it were ME, yeah, I for sure would have been cooked ngl. So after throwing up his guts a nd suffering for a few hours, Haymitch kinda just locks tf in and finds a blueberry bush to hide in. And through the bushes, he can see the sky, so when night falls, he can see who all got killed during the bloodbath.

Also, the fact that he didnt run into anybody at this point is amazing because he for sure would have been killed.

Man, I knew someone was gonna die in the blood batch, but I was NOT expecting WYATT CALLOW. OH MY GOSH????????????????????????? Sunrise on the Reaping is not a long book by any means, and we didnt have a lot of chances to form a bond with Wyatt, but it's so surreal that on the first day, one of the District Twelve's own got killed. 

And Haymith's comment to Wyatt's parents saying, “Did you bet on your boy?” Oh my gosh. At some point, Wyatt was asked about his own odds, because that was his thing, he's an oddsmaker, and he was like, “Oh, I wouldn't count on me.” I wonder what he thought, did he think his dad and brothers bet against him???????? This is so insidious, like a sibling or parent, even if you knew his odds aren't good, should you still bet against him or root for him as some sort of encouragement, PLEASEEEEE. That boy probably thought his family didnt care about him. I'm sobbing.

Boom next morning and Haymitch just hears a little teeny weeny voice saying “Find haymitch.” He looks over and heres Lou Lou of all people staring at him. Turns out the bush was very see through and Haymitch being alive was pure LUCK. But also……….how did Lou Lou make it all the way to him by herself and not a scratch on her?? And now He’s gotta pretty much take care of her but like…..how…… The kids are lucky for now.

I have thoughts about a moment from earlier about Lulu in particular, when they were on their way to the arena, and she was recognized by another girl from 11 cuz the girl was singing and then Lulu started singing that same song. Then, another moment before that, when they were all eating together, just the tributes from District 12, and it was Mags who pointed out she was specifically reaching for a roll with seeds made in District 11. This poor, poor baby, Lou Lou, is special to me.

Other than the poisoning, so far so good, he's found the berm, he's on his way now, he's just looking for a way to you know blow up the brain, but he has to keep Lou Lou in line because as we found out on day 1. Everything can kill you, he's using up all his food just to keep her distracted. Lou Lou ends up seeing these flowers, which she seems very familiar with, and she gets excited. I'm assuming these flowers they had in 11, but she goes head first into them, and pollen just wafts into her face before Haymitch can even grab her. And just like everything else in the area, this pollen was poisonous. She is coughing and choking, and there's nothing Haymitch can do, and she's SUFFERING. I failed to mention the gadget on her chest that sedates her when she gets out of line, but Haymitch essentially begs them to sedate her so she won't be in pain, but they DON'T, THEY WANT THIS LITTLE GIRL TO SUFFER. Haymitch has to then make the horrific decision to grip the machine and rip it out of her own chest, killing her………..Coriolanus snow when I get my hands on you….

How could you do something like this? It was speculated that her parents might have been rebels, but it doesn't matter; this girl was innocent and young, and she suffered. He tries to hide her body, but he gets swarmed but these stinging butterflies, and he is pretty much forced to drop her and let them take her body.

Soon enough, we see Amphert again, they began enacting the plan to make this place go kaboom and once it hits midnight its in motion. They had successfully bombed the water tank in the berm but Haymitch had been stuck trying to get out and when he finally did the worst part of the book happened.

He couldn't find Amphert. Not until he saw the golden squirrels attacking the poor boy, Haymitch tried to help, but the squirrels are programmed just for Amphert so they don't pay him any mind, and by then it's too late. Once the squirrels scatter, all that is left is pearly white bone. No meat, no blood, no tissue, just Amphert's little skeleton. WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM MEEEEEEEE. I can't imagine how Beetee felt tho have his son torn apart like that in front of him………Snow….you will be dealt with.

Haymitch, reasonably, crashes out a wreaks the arena, and the game makers thought, “Hmmm, not enough drama.” and they make the volcano explode. Haymitch, of course being our unlucky lucky boy, lives because the lava doesn't actually burn you. He gets the bright idea to try to break out of the area, so he heads north and finds the hedge maze. It started out okay, but then he panicked because he realized he didnt know how to get out, and essentially freaked out until he followed a rabbit out. You would think to yourself, now he gets a break, well, no lol. He gets ambushed by Panache, Barba, and Angler. He manages to kill Barba and Angler in his first non-mercy kills of the game, but Panache disarms him and was about to cleave Haymitch's head open until our favorite diva Maysilee, saves the day, she takes Panache out with a poison dart like the queen she is.

Pause. This is where we find out that the only reason Wyatt died was because he protected Lou Lou from Panache. Wyatt Callow, I will always think about you MY SHAYLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

The two team up, considering that's all they can do and they search for Wellie one of the smaller children from the alliance bc shes still alive. But as we all know there are no breaks here, they are once again ambushed but this time by Silka and Mariette but they also run into some Gamemakers????

Pause here. 

Why in the world are you cleaning up the arena mid-game LMFAOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. That cant wait until its over?????? Like what was the thought process here for real. Pre-Katniss Hunger Games seem so awfully put together i cant.

Fast forward some dialog, Mariette and Maysilee each kill a game maker and the thrid one dies falling head first into the berm to try to escape, and each group goes their separate ways after the capital drops small bombs to get them to clear out.

Maysilee is pisssssed at Haymitch bc bro kinda froze but like lets give him grace hes seen crazy stuff back to back to back. Everyday he has to essentially roulette on which of his friends die today.  Being that theres onyl 5 tributes left Maysilee and Haymitch split, but as you all know the capitol wont let this slide.

Birds, I personally envisioned flamingos, but other folks thought of pink spoonbills but either way our queen Maysille got attacked by birds made just for her with razor beaks. They fended them off till one caught her throat and down goes our fav. I hate you snow.

Mariette dies too, so now there's only Wellie, Haymitch, and the biggest hater ever, Silka. We find Wellie, yayyyyyyy, but she's near death in a tree noooooooo. Haymitch does what he can that night by securing them both in the tree and feeding her chocolate he got from a sponsor. During the night, Silka finds the tree too, but she doesn't see them, instead, she slumps down and just sobs, and I feel so bad because even the career tributes are victims, let's remember this. He drops down a piece, and Silka eats it. At this moment, these three kids aren't tributes, they're just kids, and I feel so awful because come tomorrow, we know Haymitch will be the only one left.

Silka decapitated Wellie the next day. Haymitch had left for one second to see what he could do about the area, and when he turned around, Silka held the poor girl's head in her hand. Thisi s when the last few minutes of the games start. Silka and Haymitch are going blow for blow, both injured, but Haymitch famously uses the force field surrounding the area to kill Silka by ducking and having her own ax thrown back at her. He won that it book over…….

Oh no.. there's more.

Haymitgch decides to blow everything to smithereens as hes bleeding out, he uses the last of the supplies he had from Amphert to blow up the arena and he passes out. Some time later he wakes up in the capitol and is ket alve there for a few days before the victory tour. Snow gives him an ominous “Happy Homecomming.” gosh I hate that man.

After the very traumatising victory tour, he's finally headed back home along with the bodies of Louella, Maysile, and Wyatt. Lord knows what they've done with Lou Lou’s body, I'm not even sure she has a family to bring the body back to.

He gets home, and everything is surreal; he's walking to his house in a daze till he sees all the commotion. His home is on fire, with his mom and his brother still stuck inside. Snows doing. He tries to go in to help even if it's too late, but he's held down by Burdock, and Asterid gives him sleeping syrup. 

The next time we see Haymitch is at the funeral of his mom, brother, Louella, Maysilee, Wyatt and Wyatt’s father Jethro who hung himself out of shame ( this makes me think he did bet on his son.) Haymitch is in a daze, mistakes Merilee for Maysilee and the vibes are just awful. This is truly the most depressing book from this series. 

Lenore Dove is finally out of jail, and she reunites with Haymitch. She was eating the gumdrops that she thought were a gift from Haymitc, but it was really from Snow, and they were poisoned. Because she had eaten while in jail, she couldn't throw up, and she unfortunately died right in his arms.

At the beginning of the boo,k it is stated that Haymitch was not a drinker. But now he was, he drowned himself in alcohol, and his friends tried to help, but it was no use. He suffered for years and years, sending off kids to die on his birthday. Until In comes Katniss and Peeta. 

Sunrise on the Reaping is by far my favorite book in this series but oh my gosh does it HURT. 

But it really makes you think if Haymitch rebelled, Beetee and Plutarch rebelled, then who else tried many times before them and failed? There are so many stories from this franchise that have not been told yet, and I'm so excited to hear more. And it almost makes you realize that yes, we see characters like Effie, and it's assumed that, of course, they're fed propaganda to make the Capitol look better. They even did it when they brainwashed Peeta. But it was so blatant in how they edited the footage of the games and the reapings, and to this day, no one but those in District 12 and the game makers know how many extra kids have died because of these games.

That's the last of SOTR review, hope you enjoyed!!!!!

[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 

[heartlandians]

'I feel like we could just keep going:' After 18 seasons, Heartland showrunner says dynamic characters still have stories to tell

After filming Heartland for 18 seasons, it’s probably safe to assume that the producers, cast and crew have endured just about everything that Mother Nature could throw at them in rural Alberta. But the production faced a unique challenge this summer.

One of the main plot trajectories for Season 18 is that the Bartlett ranch, which has been at the heart of the series since its 2007 launch, will face devastating drought conditions. It is a story arc based on the real-life challenges faced by ranchers and farmers in Alberta. Writers for Season 18, debuts Sept. 29 on the CBC, began planning this thread not long after the province went through a particularly dry period in 2023. 

But when cameras started to roll in May, Mother Nature decided not to co-operate.

“We were shooting a drought in one of the wettest seasons we’ve ever felt,” says Amber Marshall, who plays protagonist Amy Fleming in the series. “It was quite a challenge showing characters out there talking about how if we don’t have rain, we’re not going to make it, in this lush green pasture. It’s one of those things where you write scripts so many months in advance and the previous summer had been so hot and dry, so that’s what they were basing it off of. Last year, everything was crispy and dry and hot and then this summer it’s beautiful and raining and lush green and we’re talking about this big drought that’s impacting the area.”

So the crew, already adept at negotiating Alberta’s mercurial climes, occasionally had to shoot around the flourishing green fields to capture the hardship. It all plays into a “save-the-ranch” vibe that will be a part of Season 18. Drought is not the only challenge this season facing the clan, which still includes Amy, older sister Lou (Michelle Morgan), father Tim (Chris Potter) and grandfather Jack Bartlett (Shaun Johnston). The operations are also facing increased competition by Pryce Beef, a neighbouring ranch whose practices are adversely impacting the Bartlett business.

“They are selling beef to a lot of the same venues that we would be,” Marshall says. “It’s head-to-head rivalry with your next-door neighbour and that’s why Lou steps up and tries to use her business background to make a go of the profitable side of the ranch.”

While the writers have decided to put more focus on the day-to-day struggles of a working ranch in Alberta, Heartland would not be Heartland if these challenges didn’t intersect with the characters’ personal lives and loves.

Since 2007, the Canadian public has had the rare opportunity to watch a family evolve for nearly two decades as the Bartlett-Fleming clan became the expanded Bartlett-Fleming-Morris-Borden clan. When Lou and Amy arrived at the ranch, the latter was only 15. That means she was a year younger than Lou’s oldest daughter Katie (Baye McPherson) will be in Season 18.

Longtime viewers watched Amy arrive at the ranch as a young teen grieving the death of her mother and grow into a young adult, wife, mother and – at the beginning of Season 14 – devastated widow forced to deal with single motherhood after the untimely death of longtime character Ty (Graham Wardle).

After mourning the death of her young husband, Amy eventually began seeing other men as time passed. In Season 17, that included Nathan Pryce Jr. (played by Spencer Lord). In a Romeo-and-Juliet twist, he just happens to be part of the family that owns the competing ranch. Further complications arise with the return of Ty’s best friend Caleb (Kerry James), who wants his relationship with Amy to be more than just friends.

“Amy is becoming very close with Nathan, who is the neighbour they are in direct competition with,” Marshall says. “So, of course, that doesn’t sit well with Amy’s family and it causes some ups and downs in the relationship with him and the family and she is stuck in the middle of it.”

As always, these soap-opera entanglements will be balanced with Heartland’s usual helping of horses and other animals as Amy continues to work with troubled equines. Marshall is now a producer on the series and one of her main tasks is dealing with the horses that are brought onto the show. She has been a devoted equestrian since before she was cast as Amy and it remains an integral part of both the series and her life.

“At the beginning of the year, we talk about the arcs and we look at the horse storyline(s),” she says. “Does this make sense? Can we bring in new horse characters? Can we bring in new horse breeds? How is this going to work with the fundamentals of what goes on behind the scenes, like the wranglers finding these horses? Can the horses do the discipline we’re asking them to do? Are they going to be comfortable on the set? So a lot of my time and energy goes into the animal actors and the horse storylines.”

It all fits into a solid formula that has been winning Heartland fans around the world. Last week, CBC announced it would be expanding its streaming portfolio with a separate channel dedicated to Heartland that will feature the first 17 seasons of the series.

Despite the drought, competition and heartache, the Heartland ranch still needs to be the sort of romantically rustic and aspirational setting where families and teens want to spend time.

Mark Haroun became showrunner of the series in 2016 but has been with Heartland since the beginning. He landed an entry-level script supervisor job on the series in its debut season. The key seems to be mixing new elements – the series has a habit of bringing in new pre-teen or teen characters every few seasons, for instance, to keep that demographic appeased – with the traditional aspects. While Haroun could have never predicted the show’s longevity, he said he did recognize early on that it was something special.

“I certainly knew that there was lightning in a bottle with Heartland,” says Haroun, who picked up the Showrunner Award this year at the Writers Guild of Canada Screenwriting Awards. “It’s that combination of the cast and the kinds of stories we were telling. That sort of family drama didn’t exist on television. That audience hadn’t been tapped into. It did feel like there was something really special from Day 1.”

While the series is still going strong after 18 seasons, there are inevitable questions that come with such longevity. When will it end? How will it end? Are the cast, crew and writers prepared for it to end?

Of course, the decision will ultimately be made by the Mother Corporation. But Haroun says the hope is that the series would get enough of a runway before cancellation that the writers could create an ending that is satisfying for them, the actors, the characters and the audience. Whatever the case, Heartland is a long way from being exhausted, he says.

“Nothing is guaranteed, but I feel like we have so many more stories to tell,” Haroun says. “I’ve never gone into the room at the beginning of the season and struggled to come up with stories because there are such rich, dynamic characters and it feels like we have so many places to go with stories. I feel like we could just keep going.”

Heartland airs on Sundays on CBC.

Source

[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.

×

[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"? 

[jules-has-notes]

If I Were A Rich Man / Girl — VoicePlay music video

Many people dream of having wealth, whether it's just enough to live comfortably for the rest of their lives, or vast coffers that would allow them to experience all the world has to offer. And that desire has been expressed in music of every genre. It had been quite a while since VoicePlay indulged in a mashup rather than a multi-song medley, so Layne grabbed these two related tunes and worked his arrangement magic to create something uniquely VP.

Details:

title: If I Were A Rich Man / Girl (feat. Ashley Diane)

original songs / performers: "If I Were A Rich Man" by Zero Mostel as Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof (1964); "Rich Girl" by Gwen Stefani, feat. Eve

written by: "If I Were A Rich Man" by Sheldon Harnick & Jerry Bock; "Rich Girl" by Mark Batson, Kara DioGuardi, Mike Elizondo, Eve Jeffers, Chantal Kreviazuk, Gwen Stefani, Andre "Dr. Dre" Young

arranged by: Layne Stein

release date: 23 July 2021

My favorite bits:

the floaty, ethereal opening chords under Geoff's bassy melody

Layne enjoying himself on a couple beautiful lead vocal lines before he settles into the beat

the gestures Cesar makes to accompany ♫ "fine tin roof" ♫ and ♫ "real wooden floors" ♫

Ashley's melody and Layne's percussion illustrating ♫ ⇗ "just going up" ⇗ ♫ and then ♫ ⇘ "even longer going down" ⇘ ♫

that eyebrow raise and dipped chin as Geoff asks "Please" 🙏

Eli's joyous grin as he hits that iconic ♫ "yidle-didle-deedle-didle man" ♫

the crisp, almost military cadence in Layne's drums under ♫ "they would ask to advise them" ♫

the lush octave layering on ♫ "Reb Tevye" ♫

Cesar's solid timbre for the repeated ♫ "If I were a rich man" ♫ in the first break

the coordinated delay at the end of the trio's ascending ♫ "na-na-na… NAH!" ♫

the subtle downward slide Geoff does before Eli picks up the melody with ♫ "I wouldn't have to work hard" ♫

Eli and Ashley's harmonized riffing that brings out the cantor-like feeling in parts of the original theater piece

the hint of overcranked autotune on Ashley's voice in the second break to evoke Gwen's style before they start explicitly singing her lyrics

Cesar bringing in a bit of lowkey vogueing

that powerful ascending riff and descending run from Ashley, and all the guys' appropriate looks of astonishment

Geoff moseying up into tenor territory, immediately followed by that foghorn drop on ♫ ⇘ "maaa-AAAN" ⇘ ♫ that he just keeps holding as the others continue

the lingering echo on Layne's final "Hey!"

Trivia:

This was Cesar's first video as an official member of the group rather than a featured guest.

It was also Ashley's first project with the boys, and she proved to be a good fit immediately. She was a friend of Cesar's from shared theme park gigs, and is a member of the Voices of Liberty at Disney World alongside several other pals.

Tony was more involved than usual, especially since they weren't filming at the PattyCake studio. He's given a formal credit for both costuming and direction alongside Layne.

Geoff is wearing a red long-sleeved version of his blue shirt from their "Unchained Melody" video earlier in the year.

It looks like he got a new (and slightly darker) pair for this video, but Eli used to have some bright red jeans. They appeared on screen in the "Oogie Boogie's Song" music video as part of his Lock costume.

Ashley used her incredible riffing from this arrangement to issue a challenge in a TikTok video.

She also included several behind-the-scenes clips from this video in her end-of-year recap on Instagram.

It's interesting that this arrangement omits the verse Tevye sings about his poultry, as both Layne and Eli have well established chicken impressions in their repertoire.

Gwen Stefani's "Rich Girl" is a reinterpretation of a song by the same name, released by British ragga/soul duo Louchie Lou & Michie One in 1993. The two versions both sample the Fiddler melody and have very similar sections of repeated lyrics.

.

NOTE: If you venture into the YouTube comments, be aware that the video was found by factions of both snobby musical theater purists and prescriptivist grammar pedants, who all got Big Mad about some of the changes VoicePlay made. Try not to strain your peepers with all the eyerolling they may induce. 🙄

[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.

[handeaux]

Desperate Boozehounds Eyed Cincinnati’s Cornerstones Thirstily During Prohibition

Have you excavated any cornerstones lately?

As Prohibition slithered through the 1920s, Cincinnati’s landmark buildings faced a serious threat from cornerstone thieves. With the legal sale of alcohol no longer an option and bootlegging growing dicier by the day, a lot of old-timers remembered that it was once customary to plunk a bottle of booze into the cornerstone of a new building.

Cincinnati’s beer taps had hardly been stoppered before the barflies started hunting for easily accessible cornerstones. According to the Cincinnati Post [16 January 1920] they weren’t having much luck.

“Cornerstones in Cincinnati buildings have attracted an interest traceable to Prohibition. Recollection of a reported custom in ‘the good old days’ of putting a quart of good booze in some cornerstones, along with newspapers, coins, stamps and other things, is the reason. But diligent search so far has failed to uncover any clew. There are plenty of cornerstones, but the owners of all the buildings deny there is any liquor in them.”

Perhaps the building owners protested too much. They certainly didn’t want to find a chunk of their façade missing because some lush got curious. Strangely, some of the local experts denied that cornerstone liquor was ever a thing. Judge John Caldwell told the Post:

“A man would have been foolish to put good liquor he could drink himself into a stone for the benefit of somebody he would never see.”

County Clerk Fred Wesselmann argued the same point from the opposite direction.

“Booze was so common 75 or 100 years ago, that probably no one thought of putting it away as a curiosity for future generations.”

Up in Montgomery, Ohio, however, village historian William Swaim claimed that the cornerstone of the landmark Universalist Church (with the brick pillars) contained a quart of liquor. Or maybe, he averred, it was only a pint. Whether Mr. Swaim was correct or not remains a matter of conjecture, because no one has excavated the cornerstone to check. Yet.

The “History of Montgomery, Ohio” edited by Mary Lou Rose for that city’s 1995 bicentennial, recounts the liquor rumor, but suggests the hootch is ensconced in one of the pillars, not the cornerstone.

“These four round brick pillars have a greater circumference at the bottom than at the top, and stories have been told that one pillar holds a bottle of whiskey.”

J. Stacey Hill, president of the Gibson Hotel Company, energetically pooh-poohed the idea that a bottle of anything was hidden in the “century box” incorporated into a lobby pillar in 1913. His denials were supported two years later as workmen demolished the neighboring Johnston Building to make way for a Gibson Hotel expansion. A laborer sank his pick into a hollow stone several feet below the pavement. Inside the stone was a large box made of zinc. The box was hauled up for examination and found to contain an Enquirer from 1875, a May Festival program, a handful of coins and a dossier full of facts about the now-demolished building. But no liquor.

At about the same time, according to the Commercial Tribune [16 June 1922] a demolition team in Covington also came up dry:

“Workmen tearing down the old Parker Building, East Pike street, to prepare a site for the new Covington Theater, are looking for treasure. A quart of whisky. The liquor has been buried in the cornerstone of the old building for nearly forty years. It is said, the liquor was nine years old when placed in the cornerstone. Ben Vastine, contractor, kept a close watch on the workmen to avert the possibility of one of them finding it and converting it to his own use. The liquor had not been found at quitting time.”

With all these dry runs, how did rumors about immured booze get started anyway? It appears that alcoholic cornerstones, although uncommon, were actually a thing. Over in nearby Vernon, Indiana, the local high school yielded a quart of whiskey when it was demolished in 1927. The bottle rested serenely next to an old Bible and the usual miscellany of newspapers and coins. All of the discovered contents were allegedly reinterred in the cornerstone of the new high school erected on the same site.

Up in Hamilton, Ohio, back in 1907, the Globe Opera House produced a bottle of whiskey when the cornerstone was moved during remodeling. That bottle was cradled in a stack of Hamilton and Cincinnati newspapers dating from the 1860s. The wrecking crew drank it.

In other words, the thirsty souls eying the downtown cornerstones weren’t totally off the mark. It’s just a good thing they didn’t expand their research beyond cornerstones. Heaven knows what would have happened if they learned about Samuel Behymer over in Withamsville. His last wishes might have inspired grave robbing. According to the Cincinnati Post [14 October 1978]:

“Samuel Behymer, who had been a part of the Ten Mile Baptist Church, became the first man to be buried in the cemetery. On his death bed, he had requested that he be buried with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a plug of tobacco in the other. ‘You see,’ he explained, ‘I only got two sins. One of them is terbaccy and the other is whiskey so when I go through them pearly gates I want to be honest and have one of them in each hand.’ So they buried him with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a plug of tobacco in the other.”

Although most of the memorialized whiskey dated from the mid-1800s or earlier, as late as 1902, builders were still asking clients whether they wanted to set aside a bottle for posterity. In that year, Garry Herrmann, one of Boss Cox’s lieutenants and President of the Cincinnati Water Works Commission, reviewed plans for the city’s new Western Pumping Station. That building had a perfectly round footprint, so Herrmann decreed that there would be no cornerstone in a building that lacked corners. The Cincinnati Post [3 November 1902] predicted future frustration:

“As a compromise with sentiment, a bronze tablet, like on a burial vault, will grace the building when finished, and in 2082, when it is razed to make room for more skyscrapers, the workmen will look in vain for a cornerstone with a pint bottle of 1902 whisky concealed in it.”