#the urge to write IT guy hob

[issylra]

FERDINAND KINGSLEY in SILO 1.01 “Freedom Day”

[avelera]

So "Doctor Faustus" already being out by the time Dream came by in 1589, is...uh, possibly a bit fudged for the sake of the story in Sandman, but I'm thinking about Hob canonically calling bisexual legend Kit Marlowe a great playwright, and the fact that Doctor Faustus is literally about a handsome demon seducing a more or less normal guy into selling his soul in exchange for an extraordinary life, including temporary immortality during the agreed 24-year span (including a scene where Faustus survives a murder attempt and holds his own severed head in a scene that I'm sure made Hob fuckin' blanche wondering if his secret had gotten out).

And I'm also thinking about how there's a strong running theme in "Faustus" of Mephistophilis steering Faust away from getting married. There is no Marguerite (Faust's wife in other versions) in Marlowe's version of the story which is really interesting. Especially because there's a rather strong whiff of jealousy (especially with Arthur Darvill's performance) around Mephistophilis urging Faust away from marriage, saying he'll bring him fine courtesans, or even (eventually) Helen of Troy instead, but definitely don't get married.

And I'm also thinking about my (and others') emerging fanon that Hob had his own written-or-unwritten fanfic of Faust x Mephistophilis that was heavily based on his own fantasies around his dark and mysterious stranger who gave him immortality. ("This could be us, but you keep fuckin' leaving after 5 minutes...") and a thought occurred to me.

So it's really weird that Hob just happens to get married within a few years, at most, of his 1589 meeting with Dream.

Now, my main assumption around this, Watsonian/in-universe, is that Hob wanted to demonstrate success to his stranger. So within a few years of the 1589 meeting, he looked at the date and went, "Oh shit, if I really wanted to show off I should get married and have an heir on the way, that's the true mark of success in my era!" (Which, of course, Dream is spectacularly unimpressed by and/or projecting his own miseries onto Hob's inevitable despair once they die.)

But now I'm thinking about "Doctor Faustus" and also kind of wondering... timeline fudging aside where he could have conceivably seen the play (or some early version of it while Marlowe was writing it) and if that could lend to a slightly alternative reading of why Hob was in a rush to get married before his meeting with his stranger?

Either:

My tall dark and possibly-not-the-Devil-then-again- the Devil-could-just-LIE stranger is coming. Faustus in "Doctor Faustus" passed up on a chance to possibly have his soul saved by not being married. So it might be a good idea to be married just in case, y'know, for the sake of my soul and so I'm not tempted by being single.

(The more Dreamling-shippy one) My tall dark and handsome stranger can't possibly be interested in me. In fact, it's kind of pining and pathetic to still be nominally single when he comes by, especially after 200 years. Talk about desperate. Maybe it's better if I'm married, that way I don't look desperate and it's not like he'd ever be interested, right? But if he does seem annoyed that I'm married, I will have definitely learned something.

Only for Dream to peace out of there almost immediately upon meeting happily-married-Hob.

Now, do I think canonically that Hob was sort of testing the waters by getting married? Not especially cuz it's an ass-backwards way to go about it, if it was a consideration at all, I'd see it as more hedging to the tune of not looking desperate, rather than trying to make Dream jealous or anything.

But I would bet (or at least put in a fanfic) that Hob added the fact that Dream did not seem especially enthused about his marriage into his little mental list of "Maybe? But surely not. But maybe?" as it emerged around, say, 1789 along with all the other later evidence of possible interest.

[succumbtofantasy]

As I have attended a medieval festival the previous weekend it is giving me the urge of writing Hob and Morpheus visiting one as well only to laugh at the historical inaccuracies, as Hob is telling others in the wannabe-tavern, just how bad this festival is, as he enjoys a drink, far too good considering the quality of the offered drinks back then, Morpheus just standing next to him enjoying the social capability of his friend, remaining silently chuckling and...listening as he does best, until he is forced to give Hob's new drunk friends an entire lecture about how very silly medieval festivities used to be and everyone is, even by the words chosen, almost sure this guy cannot be from this century...

I bet others have written about it before, but man, even I felt that those public festivals are nothing but a farce.

[violetequus8]

Who's the Man? Annotated Bibliography

DISCLAIMER: I am not in any way credible or historian adjacent (I write porn on the internet, guys). I have access to the internet and literacy, and these are the only laurels I rest upon. I have written this bibliography in the hopes that it may be of use to others, who wish to not make *basic* mistakes about Tudor fashion (of which, I knew nothing before beginning my research). I cannot claim to even like or prefer fashion, but did this in the interest of not being jarringly out of touch. Like writing a zipper into the 1580s. 

Alchin, Linda. “Tudor Clothes for the Rich.” Six Wives, 2014, https://www.sixwives.info/tudor-clothes-for-the-rich.htm.

        This site was a welcome boon for getting an easy-to-read graph of what types, colors, and fabrics of clothes could be worn by whom and on what occasion. I used it when referencing the color of the innkeepers’ shirt, as well as the colors that Hob himself is wearing. I am fairly certain Hob’s doublet is brocade, but I may be wrong (I was only looking at the show footage). Hob, in his position as a regular old knight, is allowed a fair amount of leeway. Additionally, he is rich, and in the context of my fic, not present in court activities (though it could be surmised that he is, given the Queen stayed at his house). So he could simply pay off any fees incurred if he did dress in clothes he wasn’t allowed to wear. 

Ashelford, Jane. Dress in the Age of Elizabeth I. The Bath Press, 1988, https://archive.org/details/dressinageofeliz0000ashe/page/n7/mode/2up.

        After I had done a bit of cursory research, I was fairly confident I was correct in calling Hob’s upper outfit a doublet, and knew what Dream was dressed in. However, the lower regions kept annoying me. What was “hose,” exactly? It seemed that all the pictures and documents used hose interchangeably with stockings, but I knew that there were two separate pieces of Hob’s outfit: a kind of “shorts” on top, and yes, something we would call “stockings” below. That is what led me to this resource. 

        First, Ashelford beat it into my head that Hob had to have a man help him dress; “the fashionable man [...] required the help of a servant to sort out and air his clothes” (45). What followed was, finally, an explanation of what had confused me. The upper/trunk hose (also called breeches) was above, and below were the lower/nether hose (also called stockings, may be called canions—not to be confused with regular canions, which were an additional piece of fitted cloth tube between the stocking (lower) and hose (upper), which sometimes was joined to the stocking (lower)) (47). Unfortunately, I could not find any resources online which told me exactly how hose (upper) were actually fashioned at the waist; I assumed for this story that laces were involved, though I suppose buttons may have worked as well. I am only thankful that the codpiece was moving out of fashion by this time.

        There was a bit more terminology that I borrowed from Ashelford: Dream’s jerkin is indeed a “buff jerkin,” a sort of military garment made of oxhide (47). Ruffs are attached with bandstrings. The shirt (undershirt, for those of us in the 21st century) was made of linen and usually embroidered around the collar. Stockings (lower hose) were made of silk (and quite expensive). 

Elizabeth I. Elizabeth I’s Proclamation Against Excess. 1577, https://www.bl.uk/learning/timeline/item102766.html.

        This is the primary source document which the Alchin is undoubtedly referencing.

Elizabeth I. (1574). Enforcing Statutes of Apparel. http://elizabethan.org/sumptuary/who-wears-what.html

        In which I had a good laugh. Elizabeth was very concerned about the “wasting and undoing of a great number of young gentlemen” by virtue that they were spending undue amounts of money on clothing. It should be noted that, in spite of Elizabeth’s urging, it was very hard to enforce these policies if one was not at court. 

How, William. A Proper New Booke of Cookery. 1575, http://www.medievalcookery.com/notes/pnboc1575.txt.

        Used in reference when making up the menu for what was available to Hob at the White Horse. 

Lambert, Tim. “Tudor Society.” Local Histories, 2022, https://localhistories.org/life-in-the-16th-century/.

        Used as a general guide for a basic overview of Tudor living. Just enough for me to work forwards with. 

Ms. Napier, Alexander, editor. A Noble Boke Off Cookry: Ffor a Prynce Houssolde or Eny Other Estately Houssolde. https://archive.org/details/b21529565/page/n8/mode/1up.

        This book was reprinted verbatim from a rare manuscript in the Holkham Collection. Published in 1882. Original Manuscript likely dated from circa late 1460s.

        Ah, Middle English, my beloathed. A billion different changing spellings of common words, and a headache besides. I so love English being my first language. Anyways, I had fun flipping through this and randomly picking out dishes which could have been arranged for Hob’s table. Notably, the two things which are clear in the episode six sequence are the lamb, and that Hob is eating oysters. Surprisingly, there is no mention of lamb in this cookbook (though there are mentions of other, more exotic meats to our modern tastes: dragon (10), larks (4), tellis (4, by the way, if anyone can tell me what this is, I would be grateful)). The book has quite a few recipes, and I perhaps spent more time reading it than was strictly necessary. The Tudors managed to eat quite a lot of meat. One wonders how their digestive tracts fared. 

Uckelman, Sara. Dictionary of Tudor London Names. 2014, https://www.ellipsis.cx/~liana/names/english/tudorlondon.pdf.

        A good resource for period-appropriate names. 

[lubdubsworld]

Make you mine.

One Shot.

!8 +

Hoseok x OC

Angst , fluff 

OC is a popular solo idol  in love with street dancer Jung Hoseok. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

“One date. Come on...let me take you out for coffee. Once, just once?” I sounded like a broken record at this point , hands gripping his arm as he leaned against the table, writing out something about positions on his notebook. 

Jung Hoseok, impatient as always, gave me a shove, causing me to trip and land on my butt.

“Ow.” I muttered glaring at him. He stared down at me, unimpressed. 

“I told you not to come in here when I’m working. No. I won’t get coffee with you. Now go climb into that million dollar car of yours and get the fuck away from me.” He said sharply and i flinched at the coldness in his tone. 

I swallowed. Grinning wide, i ignored the sharp sting of his rejection. i could process the hurt later. For now, i had to change tactics. Lifting myself up, I rubbed my tailbone , moving closer and trying to peer into his notebook. 

“Okay...no coffee..” I smiled, touching his arm gently and pulling back again when he glared pointedly at me., “ That’s fine . What’s your plan when this ends? I don’t have anything on my schedule for the next two hours. We could just hang out? Talk about stuff? Your sister told me you’ve been working on a mixtape recently? I’d love to listen ....”

Hoseok groaned.

“Leah, go get your fucking hair done or buy out the latest Gucci collection or whatever it is that you rich snobby bitches do in your free time. Stop hounding me... we have  nothing  in common? Why on earth would i want to hang out with you?” He snapped. 

I shrugged.

“Because of my rocking hot bod and angelic voice? Because I happen to be the nation’s sweetheart? Because i got voted, “most likely to offer you her umbrella in a thunderstorm “ last week? I’m kind and beautiful and sexy. I can cook you your favorite dishes  and  suck your dick under the table while you’re eating it? “ 

One of his students, who just happened to be drinking water a couple of feet away from us, spat it all back out, wheezing as he gave me a look of horror. 

I gave him a sweet smile and a wave. He blushed red and smiled wide at that and my smile faltered. \

 I was sick of the adoration, sick of the applause, the praise , the compliments and the flattery. Sick of the stage itself and I couldn’t wait for my contract to end this year. I wanted to get back to songwriting and singing in my studio. Releasing vocal tracks only. No more make up or pastel dresses or bunny years. No more aegyo in fansigns , no more pretending to get scared by fucking confetti on the stage. No more giggling when a guy looks at me. No more shying away from anything even remotely adult because i was delicate. 

I was drawn out of my thoughts by Hoseok clearing his throat. 

“So you’re not leaving?” He tilted his head in question.

“I love you.” I said simply. 

Hoseok sighed, reaching out and gripping my elbow hard. He yanked me close, till I was right in front of him and I licked my lips, shamelessly staring at the plump redness of his lips. He gripped me harder at that, fingers digging into the tender flesh of my arm and I gasped.

My entire body sang at the contact and it was impossible to explain how it made me feel. Hoseok looked angry. He was angry. But I didn’t particularly care. Not when he was touching me like this.

I stared at his face, his beautiful fucking face with the sharp angular features, his dreamy body ,broad shoulders and lean waist,  those mile long legs and those thick thighs. 

I wanted something raw and real and heady and strong and there was nothing more breathtaking than the man in front of me. A  real  man. The kind of man you wouldn’t mind getting on your knees for, even in public. the kind of man who makes your breath catch in your lung. Makes your lips part and your thighs wet.

 He smiled. 

“You don’t know what the fuck love is, you little--- ” He shook his head , swallowing the insult and I bit my lips, making to move closer but his grip tightened holding me away from his body. Pain began shooting up y arm but I ignored it. 

“Then show me...I want you.  “ I said softly.

“I’m not a sextoy you can buy because you saw me in a catalogue. if you’re horny go fuck one of your cotton candy haired oppas. ” his free hand shot up, gripping my jaw . 

I wanted to scream . 

“That’s not what this is.” I choked a little when his thumb slipped down to my neck and squeezed . I kept my eyes trained on him, refusing to back away. I’d done a lot of that in the early months. But after nine months, this crush or whatever sure wasn’t going away. and i wasn’t even going to try denying how badly I wanted him. 

“What is it then? Because right now all I’m seeing is a desperate little slut, so eager for attention she’s willing to beg for my di-”

“Hob-ah...let her go.” Min Yoongi’s calm voice rang out from behind us and hoseok smirked. He stepped away and I knew he’d bruised my chin and my arm. But I resisted the urge to rub against the skin. 

“One date.” I whispered. “Please.”

He smiled , his face softening .

“Never in a million years. Get the fuck out of here before I call security.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoongi watched Hoseok go through the routine one more time, flat on his back, head cradled in his arms . 

“Why do you keep refusing that girl?” He called out . 

Hoseok didn’t stop dancing.

“Cos I don’t like her.” he grunted, hips rolling in tune to the music, sweat dripping down his neck. 

Yoongi scoffed.

“You do know I’ve seen your search history right? For someone who doesn’t like her you sure spend way too many of your waking hours watching her fancams. ‘ 

That made Hoseok pause.

“Whatever hyung, she’s just joking around. “ 

“For nine whole months? i think she means business.”

“What business? Fuck me once and leave... not into that.” 

“ Or maybe she wants to get to know you...”

“What’ there to know hyung... nothing that would interest someone like her, for sure. She probably spends more many a day than i make in a month. I’m nowhere near her level.”

Yoongi sighed. 

Hoseok’s mind seemed to be made up. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When i first heard that they wanted me to debut Solo, I’d been so flattered. Debuting solo meant I would have no one else to please or get along with. i could do my own thing and just the fact that they trusted me enough for that made me feel on top of the world. 

But as time went by , I realized that all it meant was I would be saddled with bone-crushing loneliness.

Alone in the waiting rooms.

Alone on the stage. 

Alone while the other female artists crowded together. 

It was lonely on the top and I had to smile and laugh through it all. 

But the loneliness was most pronounced when I was stuck without a friend. A girl i could confide in and trust . 

When everything is silent and quiet,  that is when the loneliness inside you screamed the loudest. 

I sat with my knees drawn up , leaning against the wall  and staring out of the bay windows, watching the rain pound the glass.

And in the vast emptiness of my apartment, it was always silent and quiet. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright , that’s it!!!” Hoseok grabbed my arm, hauling me straight off the small stool i was sitting on and I yelped, surprised.

“Hoseok-”

“Get the fuck out of here. I know for a fact that you’re only looking for someone to play around with and I’m not going to be the poor pathetic sod who get caught on camera with you only to get hated on and cancelled and whatever the fuck else your cult does..... I want you out of my life.!!” He shouted and I dug my heels into the ground, yanking my arm away from him.

“I don’t fucking care about any of that. My contract ends in two months ...I’m not going to sign back on with my damned company!! They can’t control who i see and neither can my fans!!” 

“You’re going to quit your company...? the biggest label in the country? You expect me to believe that?!” He scoffed.

“It’s true! I’ve had enough of being on the stage. I don’t enjoy it anymore ! All its done is “  left me sad and alone and without a single friend. 

‘”Paid for all your ridiculously expensive lifestyle?” He sneered.

I sighed.

“You’re obsessed with my money Hoseok. I’ve never flaunted it in front of you. I’d be happy eating dukkbeokkie from a street stall with you. I don’t care about money or my company.” 

“Really? you don’t care about your company?” he shook his head in disbelief . 

“I don’t.” i insisted. 

“then how about this. I’ll be done with the day at nine o clock tonight. Meet me at the dance studio at ten. Come alone. just you. And not in that flashy car of yours. Take a fucking cab. Don’t bring your fucking bodyguard or your manager. Don’t even tell them where you’re going. If you can do that, I’ll believe you.” He said softly. 

I swallowed. 

“I...that’s... that’s dangerous.”

He scoffed.

“Thought so. Your money and your label is a part of you. And they’re things i can’t stand. So just stop-”

“Okay!” I blurted out, heart pounding. 

Hoseok stopped talking, staring at me with a frown. 

“What?” 

“Okay.. i’ll... I’ll take a cab from my apartment.... I’ll come meet you at the studio. “ I whispered. 

“Don’t be a fucking idiot.” He said harshly.

I felt my anger rise. 

“You asked me whether I can put aside my money and label.... I can! I fucking can!” 

“Just leave Leah! ” He turned on his heel.

“I’m going to be there!! At ten , tonight. And if I show up and you don’t, let’s just admit that you’re a fucking coward, Jung Hoseok!!!” I screamed at him.

He didn’t even look back. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

The studio is deserted. 

Of course it is. 

Feeling a little bit like a fool, I wrap my arms around myself, sinking into the shadows as I walk up and down the hallways. Its still just a little past ten. I could wait a while. Just in case he changed his mind. 

Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. 

I swallowed, the darkness seeming to close in on me. 

Footsteps made my ears perk up but then anxiety spiked when i heard unfamiliar voices.

“....she fucking pants after him like a bitch in heat and the bastard is too much of a pussy to take her up on the offer.” One of them says .

“I know. Holier than thou Hoseok. Fucking prick. Like if you don’t want that a grade cunt, why not just pass it on to one of us huh?”

“....fuck ...just wanna run into her in some dark alley. I’ll stuff my fingers in her whore mouth and give it to her nice and hard , like she obviously wants. “ 

Nausea rising, I stumbled to my feet and made to move away but they had already turned the corner, both of them stopping at the sight of me. 

I felt my heart leap up into throat... stark terror blooming inside me. I opened my mouth to scream but my voice wouldn’t come , I was too petrified to even breath. 

I turned on my heel, adrenaline making me run really hard.

I’d barely moved a few inches when i crashed into a very familiar chest.

Strong arms wrapped around me, drawing me into his warmth and i heard Hoseok’s voice growl from above me. 

“You’re fired. “ His voice trembled with rage. “ You have five minutes to get the fuck out of here.” 

Both of them stood frozen.

“Hyungnim...we’re...”

“If you leave right now you’ll be walking out. If not you’re gonna be needing a fucking ambulance , Jaehyun.” 

The sound of them scarpering away made me relax, exhaling in sweet blessed relief as I sagged into his arms. The cry that I couldn’t vocalize earlier came back with a vengeance and i choked, pushing away from him. 

“I... I’m... i need to go.” I sobbed out, my nerves completely frayed as I stumbled a little. Hoseok’s hands reached out gripping my waist when i lost my balance and I flinched trying to pull away.

“Leah...wait. Leah...” He said , sounding upset and i felt like a stupid, pathetic fool. 

“They were right. You’re.... you don’t want me. That’s not your fault...I’m such a... “ The tears threatened but i refused to cry in front of him. That’s what my big, expensive apartment was for.

“Leah...no. Its not fucking true...Fucking look at me, Damn it” He grabbed my shoulders shaking me and i was forced to stare at his face. 

“I like you.” He gritted out. “ Fuck I may even be a little bit in love with you and I feel like the worst kind of bastard, making you come here tonight..alone but i swear I didn’t think you would turn up... It was so fucking reckless baby.... You could’ve gotten hurt, why would you come here....”

“you like me?” I whispered, stunned. 

He stopped , sighing.

“Yes... I do.. Always have. i just... I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea what with who you are and....You deserve someone who can spoil you and I’m far from being made of gold....” 

I cut him off with a kiss, throwing my arms around his neck and pressing my lips against his. 

He laughed and kissed me back, lips soft and gentle against mine. 

“It’s a good idea. “ I whispered, nodding my head. 

He hummed, rubbing his nose against mine, gripping my thighs and hauling me up into his arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist, clinging to him. 

“We have a lot to talk about.” He said softly. 

“We do.” i agreed.

His lips pressed against mine again. 

“But than can wait?” He asked softly.

“Yes it can.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

author’s note : just a snipper for that prompt i wrote earlier :D I’ll probably make one more part of this later :D 

[katefiction]

Angels - Part 2

by mrandmrswales (Emily) / February 24, 2013

I had an urge to write this afternoon, so I did this all in one go. I’m sorry if it has any problems, if its really obvious, let me know! Thank you to my lovely anon for the idea, I changed it slightly though. I hope you don’t mind. Please, please give me some feedback, negative or positive. If you guys want anything in particular next time, let me know. Anyway, without further ado, here’s Angels Part 2!

Emily xx

————————————————————————————–

‘Mummy?’

‘Yes Libby?’ I replied absently as I retrieved the potatoes from the hob before they spilled over.

‘What time are Granny, Grandpa, Auntie Pippa and Uncle James coming?’

‘Uh…any moment now poppet. Why don’t you go and find your sister and have a look out for them?’ Libby nodded happily and skipped off, leaving me to deal with supper. Every year, since we had been given Anmer Hall by the Queen on Sandringham Estate, We’d gone to Sandringham for lunch on Christmas Day and then my parents and sister and brother came down either in the evening or on Boxing Day. This year they were arriving on Christmas Day night, and to say I was stressed was a bit of an understatement.

‘William?!’ I called; he was supposed to be helping me cook, although whether that was a good idea was debatable. ‘WILL?’ I screamed again, rolling my eyes. He always chose not to hear me the first time.

‘YES?’

‘CAN YOU COME DOWN AND HELP ME PLEASE? I NEED TO CHANGE BEFORE THEY GET HERE.’

‘I’m right here, darling.’ Said my husband from behind me, looking amused. I huffed and began taking my apron off, blowing my fringe out of my eyes in annoyance.

‘Will you calm down?’ He said, helping me take it off. I said nothing and made to go, yet he caught me in a hug and held me until my body relaxed. ‘Better?’ he asked softly, I smiled a small smile in return, and hurried off to change, leaving him to finish off the supper.

———————————————————————————————-

‘THEY’RE HERE!’ A large thump echoed through the house as no doubt my two daughters were causing havoc downstairs in their excitement.

‘Oh Shit! I muttered to myself in panic as I quickly flung on my dress and began pulling on my tights, making sure they didn’t ladder in the process. Fluffing up my hair and pulling on my heels, I raced out of the bedroom door and down the corridor, slowing down before descending down the stairs with some dignity. Reaching the kitchen I cried out my hellos and began to hug my parents, my sister, her husband Robert and my brother, who with Pippa’s baby son was already with the girls handing out the presents he’d bought them, to great excitement. ‘What do you say girls?’ I asked them both and they both chanted out the pre-rehearsed ‘Thank You Uncle James!’ I grinned and went over to check that William hadn’t burnt the supper.

‘Don’t you trust me?!’ He asked teasingly as he poured out drinks while I inspected the food. He knew what a perfectionist I was. ‘Well yes…to some extent!’ I teased him back, gladly taking a glass of wine from him. Now to put the girls to bed.

———————————————————————————————-

‘Mummy?’ Belle asked sleepily, who was tucked up cosily in her bed. How I wished I could go to bed. I was shattered. ‘Merry Christmas.’

‘Merry Christmas to you my angel.’ I replied softly, blowing her a kiss. ‘Love you.’ I closed the door quietly and moved on to Libby’s room. Unfortunately, she was not ready to go to sleep yet and was jumping around her room.

‘What are you doing? Get into bed!’

‘Oh Mummy I don’t want to!’

‘I don’t care if you want to or not missy. Get into bed, I’m turning the light out in a few minutes.’ Libby huffed and crossed her arms. She was just as stubborn as William was. Luckily for me, having lived with William for years and years, I knew how to deal with stubbornness easily. ‘The quicker you get into bed, the quicker you can get up and open your presents from Granny and Grandpa and Aunty Pippa. That got her, and before I knew it, she was in bed and I was closing the door. ‘Phew’ I sighed to myself, leaning against the door in defeat. The smell of beef began to waft up the staircase and my tummy grumbled. Staggering away from the door, I made my way to the source of the smell.

———————————————————————————————-

‘Mm. Darling this is delicious!’ Said my mother, tucking into the beef fillet I’d cooked. Everyone else echoed me and conversation started as we made our way through the meal. Pippa and I chatted about baby things, me giving her advice on things she needed. The two of us had really turned to each other during our respective pregnancies. Having had Hyperemesis Gravidarum with Libby and a milder version of it with Belle, Pippa had been a great support for me on the days I needed her when Will was away. Whether it was taking Libby for the day, cooking me meals or visiting me in hospital when the odd time arose, she did. Pippa luckily had not got HG with Ben, but had been quite sick for the first few months, so as the good sister that I was, I spent a lot of time helping her out. I still did. It wasn’t far into pudding when the whole family banter started. Teasing and laughing about funny memories was pleasant, and the meal passed quickly. When the meal had finished, William and I began to do the washing and drying of the plates. ‘You look tired Kate.’ William said lovingly as I sighed whilst stacking the dishwasher. I straightened up and smiled. ‘No I’m fine sweetie.’ He didn’t look convinced, yet turned back to pick up more cutlery to dry. A comfortable silence returned until Pippa and Robert came in to say goodnight. It wasn’t long before the other three did the same, and we were left alone to finish. William and I chatted idly and pleasantly until we finished. Dishwasher set off and cutlery back in its draw, we sighed happily. Feeling the need for a cuddle, I sidled up to Will and wrapped my arms around his waist. I felt his deep chuckle and he kissed my forehead. He drew me over to the sofa and we collapsed onto it. Me curled up tightly into his side, his arms forming a protective barrier around me. One of the few places I felt truly protected and safe. ‘I love you’ He whispered into my ear and I smiled, nuzzling my face into his neck and trailing kisses down it. Lifting my head up eventually, I looked deep into his eyes and returned his earlier sentiment. He leaned in and kissed me softly for a while. I was just getting into it, when a sudden urge to vomit overcame me, and I pulled away, lurching for the bathroom, where I only just made it in time. ‘Kate?’ He asked, coming up behind me and holding my hair back while I threw up. Once finished, I straightened up shakily and looked at him. ‘Are you okay?’ He asked, looking worried. I nodded, though I wasn’t fully sure yet. ‘William.’ I said when I was sure I wasn’t going to be sick again, my breath coming out heavily and shaking slightly. ‘Um…I haven’t told you that…um I’ve been sick for a while now, because I didn’t want to worry you.’ He stared at me, his eyes wide.

‘How long have you hidden this from me?’

‘Uh. A few weeks’ I whispered, fearful of his reaction.

However, to my surprise he looked thoughtful and his eyes glowed. ‘Do you think that you might be…?’

‘What, pregnant?’ I answered, ‘I don’t think so… wait hang on.’ I mentally began to do the sums. I had to do them several times, but I at last came to one answer.

‘I…think I might be!’

———————————————————————————————-

(8 months later)

‘Mummy!’ cried the two very excited voices of my other little babies as they appeared in my hospital room. William had brought them to see me and our little addition to the family, Thomas Peter Charles Michael. Peter after my grandfather, Charles after William’s father and Michael after my own. ‘Hi darlings!’ I cried happily, pulling them in for plenty of kisses. I had missed seeing their little faces every day. William sat down on the end of my bed and smiled lovingly at me and the baby. He lifted Belle onto his lap and helped Libby up next to him.

‘Mummy can I hold him?’ asked Libby and I nodded, helping lift him into her outstretched arms, holding his head while the girls looked down at the baby with nothing but love and awe in their faces. I looked at them each in turn, my heart filled to the brim with love for my family. My gorgeous husband and my three little angels.

[tmnthpdisneyjurassicpark-blog]

Meeting Mikey

Note: Sorry it took so long guys, I hope you like it! Might be a bit dark but there is some humor.

@callingyoutosayhello

Michaelangelo Hamato, goofball, best friend, adorable little brother, and the pranking king.

Not tonight.

Tonight, he couldn't afford to be carefree, couldn't allow his imagination get the best of him. He couldn't rely everything on his wits and expect to walk out alive.

Tonight, michaelangelo was gone.

It was time....

....for TURTLE TITAN!

Crouching on the building's edge, Michaelangelo- er, Turtle Titan gazed at the streets below.

He sneered. The city was sick, sick with a plague of hate, of violence, of a darkness that threatened to snuff out the light every day.

There were children playing in the park, just as there were gang lords having drug wars.

There were men and women who simply wanted to follow their dreams as a singer, writer, dancer, artist; just as there were secret corupt organizations claiming to be saving the world through torturing and murdering innocent mutants.

Turtle Titan saw it all, and did his part to keep his city safe.

To keep the light

Turtle Titan was a hero, but it was Michaelangelo who lived by the knight's code.

To protect those who couldn't protect themselves....

Mikey didn't feel like much a hero though, especially after what happened to Splinter a few days back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were rushing across the rooftops, chasing after Bishop's men. The jerk had somehow tracked the turtles back to their liar, and had ordered a strike. The turtles however, were out on their patrol during the attack. Bishop, in a fit of rage at missing his targets, had taken Splinter hostage. It wasn't until they had returned, hours later, to a broken home with a missing father. Donnie had checked the security feed throughout the sewers and had hacked the cameras of nearby shops to pin-point exactly what happened. He had found the license plate of the van used to kidnap Splinter.

From there, they realized the van was left in Foot territory.

It suddenly became clear that Bishop and the Foot Clan were working together, and that if the brothers did not get there soon, it would be too late.

"Come on! We need to get to Dad ASAP! Don, how is your software coming along?!" Leo barked out, leader mode in full swing.

"It's at ninety-six percent efficiency and is hacking into the foot head-quarters as we speak. It will also deactivate the EPF's main artelliry and leave them weaponless." Don responded, not looking back over his shoulder.

"Let's go get dad back." Raph growled, pushing past all of them in a speed unexpected of someone his size.

Mikey's heart was pounding hard. His feet were slapping against the pavement, jumping from rooftop to rooftop. He had been sprinting for twenty minutes.

He didn't blink. He could barely breathe.

All the could picture was his poor father, at hands of Shredder and all the ways the jerk could possibly harm their agile dad.

Please don't be to late.....I'm coming sensei....

The foot headquarters came into view.

Mikey's world when black at the edges. He felt this dark and twisted need, a bloodthirsty urge to get to Shredder and just-

Mikey slammed his feet to the ground, skidding to a halt.

He was shaking, eyes wide in horror of what he wanted to do.

He wanted to kill Shredder. He wanted to actively take away a life and Not. Look. Back.

He almost lost himself in the darkness and he knew, the moment he stepped into that building, he would change forever.

His brothers stopped, several meters ahead of him, calling his name.

Rushing in there with no backup wouldn't be easy, even if Leo had devised a plan.

Not even a mile away was the mutanimals' secret hide out, close enough to keep an eye on the foot and the purple dragons but hidden in plain sight.

Decision made, Mikey turned on his heal and called out behind his back.

"Go get dad! I'll bring some help."

He ran as fast as he could, jumping over roofs and sliding down poles to get to ground level.

He pounded on the large silver door, calling out to leatherhead in a shaking voice.

The door slid to the side slightly and the giant-reptiles golden eye appeared. Once he realized it was Michaelangelo who was in need of assistance he pulled him roughly inside.

"Mikey, my friend, what is wrong?" Leatherhead growled softly.

"It's Bishop! His goons got Master Splinter! And they are working with the foot!"

"Then what are we standing around for? Let's blow this popsicle stand!" Hob blowed.

Slash nodded in agreement as the mutanimals took off towards the foot headquarters.

Mikey felt something tingle on the back of his neck and he knew something was off.

It was his connection with his brothers, their aura's almost entwined during a fight and he had only one thought.

Donatello

The world seemed to slow as Mikey burst past the others and towards the Foot Head Quarters.

FASTER MIKEY FASTER!

Five feet until the ledge.

"Mikey wait!" Leatherhead called out.

Three feet.

"It's too far kid!" Hob warned.

One foot.

"You won't make it." Slash roared.

He jumped.

The windrushed past him, full in his ears. In that moment mikey felt all his emotions boil up into the one single focus. He felt the joy of playing video games with Donatello, the happiness at pulling another prank on Raph, the comfort of his father's calm aura and the pride at seeing his eldest lead them towards another adventure.

He felt nothing but love.

The glass shattered.

The attack was unexpected as Mikey flung his nunchucks at the ninja. His chuck had hit temples, making several ninja's crumble to the floor.

Mikey had hit pulse points and had torn legiments, causing the other ninjas to cry out in pain.

Taking a step back, Mikey surveyed the chaos.

Leo and Raph were off to the left. Leo was holding an unconscious sensei in his arms while Raph had defended the pair.

To the right, Hob and Slash were defending an injuried Donatello. Mikey winced at seeing his brothers bent arm. He knew the elbow wasn't supposed to twist that way.

Finally he saw Leatherhead ripping into Bishops men, not holding back in the slightest.

That's when he saw her.

A girl, maybe about nineteen, with (y/h/c) hair bloodly and matted against your temples. Your (e/c) eyes were wide was fear as Shredder held his gauntlet to your throat.

"ENOUGH!" Shredder's voice boomed and the fighting ceased.

"Hand over Hamato Yoshi and I will spare her life!"

You had tears in your eyes but you held your head high. In the loudest voice you could muster, you cried out.

"Don't do it! He'll kill me anyway!"

A sharp flick of the Shredder's wrist and you had winced in pain, a deep wound across your right cheek.

Your eyes met the orange banded turtle, (e/c) against blue.

He sprinted towards you, not thinking twice.

The world around you two became a blur as Mikey rushed forward, his chucks in hands and he aimed the weapon right in Shredder's face.

Crying out in surprise at the bold attack, Mikey took the opportunity to sweep you up in his arms and throw several smoke bombs, giving his friends and family the chance to escape.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A soft hand on Mikey's shoulder had the turtle nearly jumping out of his shell.

He turned around and found you there, giving him a soft smile.

His eyes were downcast and his breath was shaking. You knew Splinter- the rat you had learned raised the turtles practically from their 'birth' as mutants- was still unconscious. You knew Donatello, the sassy and technical genius had been in much pain from the fight and that Mikey blamed both of their pain on himself.

His fear that night that he confided in you, made him believe he was worthless.

You took his face in your hands and placed his forehead against yours.

He knew your name. He knew you grew up in a large, close-nit family. He knew of your parents divorce, the impact it had on your mental health, and that you moved to New York to pursue your dream of writing.

You knew his favorite food, color and video games. You knew his fake smiles from his real ones, you knew his joyful nature hid an array of darkness that threatened to snuff out his life.

He knew your eyes sparkled when you talked about something you were passionate about. He knew you were a huge fan of Harry Potter and Disney for the eternal magic they provide. He knew, deep down, you longed for a life of romance and adventure.

You knew each other for three days and yet, you knew each other better then you knew yourselves.

And in this quiet moment, on this rooftop, it was you and him against the world.

[tenderlywicked]

Calamine & Christmas Cake by Lillian Francis

A romantic getaway at an all-inclusive boutique hotel over Christmas seems the perfect way for Glenn Trevor to celebrate the festive period with his boyfriend.

But he could have done without waking up on the first morning delirious and covered in spots. Abandoned by his boyfriend, Glenn’s only saving grace comes in the dynamic form of Bastian, the waiter assigned to attend his every whim, and who might just be an angel in disguise.

Bastian, has only two rules: always make the guests feel as comfortable as possible—not a problem with his innate nurturing disposition—and never ever get involved with a guest. But the quarantined guy in 210 needs someone to take care of him, and Bastian’s more than up for the challenge of making Glenn Trevor’s stay the best ever, even if he has to run himself ragged to do it.

If Bastian can learn to accept the same nurturing care he hands out so readily, and Glenn can get over the farce of his previous relationship, between them maybe they can make it the Christmas of Glenn's dreams.

Word count: ~35, 500

Cover designed by Lillian Francis at Finally Love Press

Buy Links: Kobo // Payhip // B&N // Smashwords

Universal Amazon link:

myBook.to/christmascake_LF 

Add it to your Goodreads bookshelf here.

About the Author

Lillian Francis is a self-confessed geek who likes nothing more than settling down with a comic or a good book, except maybe writing. Given a notepad, pen, her Kindle, and an infinite supply of chocolate Hob Nobs and she can lose herself for weeks. Romance was never her reading matter of choice, so it came as a great surprise to all concerned, including herself, to discover a romance was exactly what she’d written, and not the rollicking spy adventure or cosy murder mystery she always assumed she’d write.

http://lillianfrancis.blogspot.co.uk/

Twitter @LillianFrancis_

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Email: lillianfrancis@rocketmail.com

Excerpt

“Jesus Fucking Christ! What the fuck have you done to yourself?”

The shrill words tugged me from a troubled sleep, reverberating around my head despite the fact that my skull seemed to be stuffed with cotton wool.

Had I drunk that much last night? I felt as groggy as hell. I searched through clouded memories, but I could only recall a bottle of Peroni, left mostly untouched beside a half-eaten dinner.

“Glenn, I’m talking to you.”

A finger poked me in the arm, attacking a muscle that ached as though I’d been lifting weights all day. But I’d spent my day floating in the pool and doing leisurely lengths in a lopsided front crawl. The gym I left to my six-pack obsessed boyfriend. Who poked me again in that tender spot. I wanted to rub it until my skin bled. And wasn’t that a weird thought.

And I had left him, checking himself out in the mirror while I alternated between the water and stretching out on a sun lounger with my Kindle. Not that there had been much sun coming in through the glass of the pool house. Hardly a surprise since it was December in England.

Wasn’t it?

I couldn’t dredge up the date, or the day for that matter, but that was often the case once school broke up and I didn’t have to worry about classes and staff meetings.

Xander poked me again, his finger an irritant despite the duvet between the offending digit and my tortured flesh. I swatted away his attack and dislodged the duvet at the same time. Icy shards seemed to cut at my skin everywhere the air touched it. And despite the fact my body seemed to be boiling internally I had an almost desperate urge to tug the covers back up around me.

“OMG! You’re covered in it! Gross.”

Whatever sleep I’d been clinging on to was ripped away, as I was jerked to full wakefulness not by the harsh unfathomable words, but by the pitch and lurch of the bed as Xander scrambled away. His sudden move took most of the covers with him, leaving me totally exposed to the cool December air that made my skin tingle and itch. I scratched at a particularly annoying patch of skin at my hip and tried to unglue my eyelids enough to glare at my boyfriend.

He wavered into view but refused to properly focus. I suspected my glare lacked its normal power that regularly left 10-year-olds quaking in their non-school compliant trainers. Not that it mattered, blurry Xander’s gaze was fixed on the area where I was scratching. I didn’t even have the energy to convince myself that he was staring at my dick.

And now that itched too.

I rubbed at my shaft lazily, soft and stuck to the crease of my left thigh. No sign of my normal morning wood, and I really didn’t have the energy to care.

Xander shrieked—the drama queen—the sound ripping a hole in my skull. I waited for the inevitable leakage of brains on to my pillow. When that didn’t happen, I opened my eyes—which had apparently drifted shut again—just in time to watch his fuzzy shape toss the duvet in my direction. Whether by accident or design it settled on me like falling snow. The cotton felt cool against my skin. I spread my arms and began to make a snow angel—it was nearly Christmas after all. Two sweeps in and the heat and friction made me uncomfortable and itchy again.

Banging and muttering from the other side of the room distracted me from the tightness of my skin. I tugged the duvet closer around me and tried to lift my head to focus on the crashing just long enough to tell the noisy fucker to piss off.

My heavy skull wouldn’t obey. I rolled onto my side, my head cradled by the super soft feather pillows. White, fluffy, floaty clouds. Floating up into the sky, away from all the noise. But clouds weren’t pure white when there was the angry rumble of thunder in the air.

Not thunder. I blinked and made a concerted effort to focus. Xander slammed the wardrobe door, the empty hangers clanging together. He was still muttering furiously away to himself and I forced myself to make sense of the words.

“…invited to three parties over the holidays. But nooooo, I turned them all down for a romantic week with Spotty McSpotDick.”

There was something off in the way he spat out the word romantic but I couldn’t quite work out what, in my befuddled state. Instead, I focused on the part of his rant I could appease. “I told you,” I started but it came out more like Didoldu so even I was distracted from what I’d planned to say next.

I attempted to unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth and tried again.

I don’t think I was any more successful the second time. Xander gave a snort of disgust. He stomped over to the mini fridge, yanked out a bottle of water and twisted the cap off, with more aggression than his lithe frame would imply. All that time in the gym working on his six-pack was obviously doing wonders for his biceps too. Not that I could appreciate any of it with all the clothes he was wearing.

“This is why I don’t do sick people.” He held out the water bottle and glared expectantly. I raised myself up enough to take the offered bottle and risk a sip of the water.

Oh, that tasted good. Cool and refreshing against my scratchy throat. I took another swallow and smiled my thanks. Xander grimaced and moved away from the bed, back towards the wardrobe. He opened the other door.

Another sip of water and my brain seemed to come back online. “We can go to the parties and still have a romantic break. I never intended for us to stay in the hotel the entire time but it’s nice to be able to just spend time relaxing and not to have to worry about cooking, especially on Christmas Day. And the staff here are really attentive.” Something tugged the edges of my mind. Sleep or just that hazy mist that had been bothering me since I’d woken that morning. I took a longer swig from the bottle then, because it was a good point and I felt it needed to be stressed, I added, “Really attentive.”

Xander snorted, apparently unimpressed with my reasoning. “What, like that twinky waiter who was flirting with you at dinner? Don’t think I didn’t notice him out at the poolside too. Bringing you extra towels and drinks.”

“That was the same guy?” I could barely remember him. Although I think I recalled a waiter, dark hair with a fiery red streak, ask with concern if I needed some water and express dismay about the amount of food I left. Could he have been the pool boy in the shortest of shorts who’d been happy to run around and get me drinks from the bar? I’d had an unquenchable thirst yesterday that I’d put down to the chlorine and the amount of shouting I’d done on the last day of term. But his hair had been slicked back and the red streak was the only thing I remembered from the waiter. I couldn’t even remember what I’d ordered to eat, but I felt bad that I’d left food uneaten.

“Anyway, we still have New Year’s parties to go to when we get home.”

“With you looking like that? I don’t think so.”

I frowned as Xander tugged his shirts from the hangers. Wind chimes jangled but the air in the room was still, stifling. Xander rammed the shirts in his case. Strange, he was normally such a meticulous packer. Even his gym bag.

Packing?

“Are you going somewhere?”

“I’m not staying here to get sick. I’ll call you in the New Year.”

“But, Christmas?”

“Bye, Glenn.”

I blinked my eyes open at the slamming of the door. God, it was hot in here. All that fractious energy my boyfriend had been giving off probably. I rolled out of bed and stumbled to the window on legs weaker than Bambi. After some fumbling, I finally got the latch unfastened and threw open the window letting in blessedly cool air.

My stomach caught up with my sudden departure from the horizontal. It lurched in protest. I spun around in desperation—probably not my finest idea—until I spied the waste bin under the dressing table. My legs gave way and I crumpled to the carpet. I just had the presence of mind to grab for the bin before I puked my guts up.

Next time I woke there was a woman standing over me, screaming. I smiled at her reassuringly. It didn’t seem to help.