#george mackay imagine

[storiesforallfandoms]

early morning ~ will schofield;1917

word count: 2203

request?: yes!

@lilah1020​: “Imagine Will schofield fluffy smut with wife reader”

description: on a rare occasion when they wake up before their children, they decide to take advantage of the time to be intimate

pairing: will shofield x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (oral - f receiving, unprotected p in v, praising, dirty talk)

masterlist (one, two, three)

Having two children - especially two young children at that - meant very little “alone time”. The girls were usually the first ones awake in the house, and thus would run into their parents’ room to wake them up. Between work, house chores, and looking after the kids, there wasn’t much time for Will and (Y/N) to be alone. And by the end of the night, when the kids were bathed and in bed, they were just too tired for any form of physical intimacy.

It was hard. Not that either of them thought they needed physical intimacy for their marriage to work. After their oldest daughter was born, they knew sex was going to be few and far between, and they definitely knew that’s how it would be after their second daughter was born. They were aware of it, and they were more than okay with that sacrifice at first. But the complete lack of sex had been hard for both of them.

It was a rare morning where (Y/N) wasn’t woken by a tiny body jumping on her. Her eyes slowly blinked until the sleep was completely out of them. The room was quiet. In fact, the whole house was quiet. No small voices yelling, no hushed voices beside her as Will tried to convince the girls to let their mother sleep. Nothing. Just silence.

(Y/N) rolled over to see Will sleeping peacefully beside her. She smiled as she looked at his handsome face. Every day she thought to herself about how lucky she was to have him; how lucky she was to have their little family.

As if sensing her eyes on him, Will slowly stirred. He opened one eye, then smiled as he closed it again. “Good morning, love.”

“Good morning,” she responded.

“Where are the girls?”

“Still asleep.”

Will had stretched his arms out, but paused after hearing her response. “Really?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Listen.”

They both paused, taking in the silence of the house. Will looked shocked at the revelation. “They’re asleep? They actually are not awake before us for once?”

(Y/N) giggled and nodded again. “I guess they were really tired after last night.”

The night before, the Schofields had been to a neighborhood celebration that included a barbecue and fireworks to end the night. Will and (Y/N) had let the girls stay up late so they could enjoy the festivities. By the time they got home, the adrenaline (and the sugar) from the night was finally wearing off and, within seconds, they were asleep.

Seemed it was enough to keep them asleep past their usual wake up time.

Will looked like he was still trying to understand the fact that his daughters were actually still asleep. (Y/N) was still pretty shocked herself. She was almost convinced that she was dreaming, and she would soon actually be woken up by her two energetic daughters.

“Love,” Will said.

“Yes, darling?” (Y/N) responded.

Will took her face in his hands and pulled her into a kiss. It was passionate and needy from the moment their lips met. (Y/N) took hold of Will’s shirt, clenching the material between her fists as she held him to her. One of his hands moved from her face to slip under the night shirt she was hearing. When his hand touched her bare skin, it ignited her. It left a fiery, tingling feeling in his wake. One that trailed down her body and between her legs. She was yearning for him. She needed him so desperately, just from kissing and a few gentle touches.

Will slowly laid (Y/N) on her back, his lips still attached to hers. When he pulled away, she tried to follow him. He chuckled and eased her back down on the bed. He moved to her neck, kissing the soft area all over until he found the spot that made her whimper. He kept his focus on that spot, sucking and biting until he was sure he had left marks. He pushed up her night gown to expose her breasts. She gasped as he put his mouth to one of them, circling her nipple with his tongue. His hand fondled her other breast, rolling the nipple until it was hard and pointed, then took that one in his mouth as well.

A moan slipped from her lips. She quickly covered her mouth as Will’s mouth let go of her breast to shush her.

“Sorry,” she said in a whisper. She put her hand back over her mouth as his kissing continued downwards.

He left wet, open mouth kisses over her stomach and down towards her mound. Her breath hitched and a muffled whimper came from around her hand at the feeling of his hot breath against her already dripping wet pussy. Desperation was rising within her. She was so close to begging for him to touch her, she didn’t even care how he’d do it. She just needed to feel him, to have him pull that release from her again like he always knew how to. But she didn’t have to beg, because he wasted no time in attaching his lips to her clit.

A gasp ripped from (Y/N)’s lips, her hand moving away from her mouth to grab hold of Will’s hair. She gently tugged it by accident, but it earned her a moan from him. The vibration from it sent shockwaves through her body. She bit down on her bottom lip to try and keep her moans quiet, but it felt almost impossible. She hadn’t felt this good in a long time, and it was hard to not let that out. His tongue against her felt heavenly as he licked long stripes from her pussy to the tip of her clit.

“F-Fuck,” (Y/N) whispered. “God, Will, that feels so fucking good.”

Will peered up at his beautiful wife, writhing in pleasure above him. Her eyes were shut and her head was thrown back, with one hand in his hair and the other gripping the sheets beneath her. She looked angelic, and her quiet noises of pleasure definitely sounded like they were coming straight from a heavenly angel. He wanted to be inside her desperately. He needed to feel her warm walls around his throbbing hard cock. But he wanted to make her feel good first, because he wasn’t sure how long he’d last once he was inside her.

“Are you close, love?” he asked her, continuing to stroke her clit with his thumb while his mouth was absent. She nodded, her eyes still tightly shut. “Look at me, my love.”

She managed to force her eyes open to look down at Will. He smiled at her face, already fucked out and he hadn’t even fucked her yet.

“Cum for me, my love,” he coaxed. “Cum for me and I’ll give you what you want.”

The minute his mouth pressed against her again, she did exactly as he requested. Her head fell back onto the pillow again, and she quickly clapped a hand over her mouth as the pleasure tore through her. Will lapped at her pussy, taking every last drop of her juices as if he needed it to survive. Her body trembled so violently that she wasn’t sure it would ever stop.

Her head was fuzzy, in a good way. She felt like she was on cloud nine as Will kissed up her body again. He placed a sweet yet passionate kiss against her lips. She could taste herself on his mouth, which just turned her on again.

Will stood from the bed just long enough to pull his boxers off and kick them to the side. (Y/N) all but yanked him back to the bed when his lower half was naked. His hard cock pressed against her thigh as his lips found hers again. Her hips bucked in an attempt to gain some friction between them.

Will chuckled. “Impatient thing, aren’t you?”

“We don’t have long,” she reminded him. “And you promised to give me what I wanted.”

“You’re right, I did promise that.” His tip nudged her entrance, earning him another gasp. “And I intend on keeping that promise.”

He pushed into her slowly, letting both of them feel every inch of his cock filling her up. He kissed her, letting his mouth swallow her moans. He lowered himself so he was pressing against her as much as he could without crushing her, resting his elbows on either side of her head.

“You feel so good,” he mumbled against her lips. “I almost forgot how good this pussy felt.”

“Please, Will,” she begged. “Make love to me.”

He kissed her. “You don’t have to beg, love. I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

When he slowly pulled his hips back and thrust them forward at the same pace, (Y/N) could’ve swore she saw stars. It was the simplest movement, but it brought so much pleasure that it made her head spin. She grabbed at his shoulders to try to ground herself.

“You’re so beautiful,” Will whispered as he continued his slow thrusts. “God, I’ve missed seeing you like this. You’re so gorgeous when you’re all wrapped around my cock like this.”

Her only response was another moan. Will decided not to quiet her this time. He missed hearing these sounds. He wished he could record them to have with him whenever he was away from her.

He kissed her, sweetly. As if he was giving her a good morning kiss and wasn’t buried deep inside of her.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too,” she responded. It was the only coherent thought in her head. “I love you so much. Fuck, Will.”

“Do you feel good, my love?” She nodded. “Do you think you could cum one more time for me? I promise I’ll fill you up after.”

She nodded again. Will reached between them and started rubbing circles against her clit as his thrusts started picking up. (Y/N) barley had time to register her orgasm before it was already upon her. Will pressed his lips roughly against hers to stop her loud cries of pleasure. Feeling her tightening around him made him cum shortly after she did, his thrusts stilling so he could fill her up like he promised.

They weren’t sure how long they were tangled together, coming down from their climaxes. All concepts of life outside of this moment was lost on them. They just knew the lightheaded feeling of post-orgasm bliss. Will was pressing kisses against (Y/N)’s neck and jaw. She sighed, content to stay this way as long as possible.

Which, unfortunately for them, did not last nearly long enough.

The creaking of a door alerted them first. Their daughters’ bedroom door had always made a noise when it opened. Will had been saying for as long as they could remember that he would fix the door, but had never gotten around to it. Now it seemed to be their saving grace, the only indication that they had mere seconds before two little girls ran into their room.

Will pulled out of (Y/N) and tumbled onto the floor. (Y/N) stifled her laugh at his pained expression as she fixed her night shirt, covering the sticky mess between her legs. Will frantically grabbed for his boxers and pulled them back on just as the two girls rounded the corner and into the room. Their youngest daughter immediately jumped into bed, while their oldest looked at their father in concern.

“Daddy, why are you on the floor?” she asked.

“I - uh - I fell out of bed,” Will responded. “Got all tangled in the sheets as I was trying to get up and fell right off.”

“Daddy is a little clumsy this morning,” (Y/N) added.

“Is it because you were up so late last night?” the youngest girl asked.

Will nodded. “Yes. Yes, it’s definitely because of last night.

Their oldest got onto the bed with (Y/N). (Y/N) put both arms around her girls and pulled them close to her, kissing them on top of their heads.

“You both slept in pretty late,” she said.

“Because we stayed up late,” the youngest said. “Like grown ups do.”

“Don’t get used to it,” (Y/N) said. “You’re not growing up any time soon. In fact, I’ve decided that you’ll both be my little girls forever.”

Both girls started to speak at the same time, protesting their mother’s decision. Will chuckled as he leaned across the bed to also kiss his daughters.

“What do you girls say we head downstairs and start making breakfast? Let mummy get herself cleaned up for the day.”

He shot her a look that made her face heat up. The girls agreed and bounded out the door again before Will could follow them. He and (Y/N) shared a look before chuckling. Will leaned in to kiss (Y/N) one more time before reluctantly tearing away from her and their bed.

“I’m keeping them up until midnight tonight,” he said as he started walking out the door. “Maybe then I’ll have you all to myself tomorrow morning.”

[george-mackay-macfine]

I'm back into the writing mood after some heavy shit.

Now opening up the requests for Will Poulter, Jeremy Allen White, Ben Hardy (and their characters) as well as the usual roster.

Will and JAW girlies slid into the DM's

[bi-bard]

Coming Back for You - Toby Nealey Imagine [I Came By]

Title: Coming Back for You

Pairing: Toby Nealey X Reader

Word Count: 2,004 words

Warning(s): **HEY, LOOK HERE!!!** kidnapping, hostage situation, mention of abuse (physical/emotional, but ultimately vague), mute reader

Summary: Toby finds himself in a far more dangerous situation than he ever meant to be involved in. However, he is saved by an unexpected source. Now, he is determined to return the favor.

Author's Note: I meant to write a story about this character a long time ago, and someone just recently reminded me of it, so I figured it was better late than never.

Also, I'm adding lore to Hector's story so that this story makes sense. I'm just gonna ask that you don't question me about it and just let it exist.

Toby Tag List: @dream-this-nightmare-over

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

The first thing I heard was a thud on the floor.

At first, I assumed that it was just Hector moving around. But that wouldn't make sense. There was no sound after the thud. Hector always made a point to tell me when he was home. The door would shut and then he would call up to me. Or he would have warned me beforehand that he was bringing home a guest, so I could make myself scarce while he enjoyed his evening.

Once I knew that it wasn't Hector, I walked to the door. I don't know what my plan was. To confirm my suspicions, find a phone so I could call the police, try to plead for help, or simply warn the poor soul that had been unfortunate enough to come in. Maybe it was all of the above. Or maybe I had just gotten so lonely that facing down some burglar felt comforting in a way.

My hand paused on the doorknob. I stared at it.

Hector's words rang in my head: "You are not to leave this room until I come and get you. No matter what."

I had learned better than to not heed his warning. Not that he would ever call it a warning. If I had to guess, then I would say that he probably saw it as an act of protection or love. However, I liked to avoid guessing about him. He never liked when he believed that I was assuming things about him.

I had been a permanent guest in Hector's home for a few years by then. A silent presence. I never knew what I was meant to be in his mind. But I guess at some it didn't truly matter anymore.

I was to the point that I could barely remember a life before him. I just knew that I had one... and that I was never getting it back.

I could still remember the times when I would cry every night, sobbing as I shook. I would beg him to just let me go... or to simply kill me and let me have some peace. He didn't like when I did that. He said it made him feel bad for merely offering me a better life. I don't know if he had truly forgotten that he less offered me this life than he forced me into it or if he was just trying to ignore that he had taken me from my family.

It didn't take long for me to learn that he wanted silence from me. I had trained myself to be silent. Quiet at all times. I communicated in nods and head shakes and pointing and kind, gentle smiles that seemed to quell Hector's anger for the time being. It was just less of a reminder that I wasn't truly who he wanted me to take the place of.

It only took a few more sounds of the creaking floor for me to say hell with the consequences. I opened the door slowly and leaned my head out through the doorway. I couldn't see anything from there.

I slowly walked down the stairs, taking note to avoid the creaking steps. I paused, waiting for some sign of a person. There was nothing.

And then, there was a crash. A distinct sound of someone stumbling over something and then falling.

It was coming from the basement. My heart dropped. I had been avoiding the basement for a long time. It made me think of my crying and my begging. I didn't like being around it.

I quickly opened the door, seeing a man hurrying to stand a few steps away from the bottom.

He looked up at me. I squinted at the feeling of his headlamp shining in my eyes. He had all dark clothes on. He was a stranger. Definitely a stranger.

And he looked scared.

I knew what he had seen. I had seen it too.

My head perked up when I heard the gate opening.

It was as if every reaction after that was instinctual. I never considered myself a hero or anything great, but I found myself focusing on nothing more than getting that man out of the house.

I ran down the few steps between us before grabbing his hand and dragging him upstairs with me.

I was quick, as quiet as ever as I dragged him up the main stairs and up to my room. I pushed him inside and quietly closed the door. I continued shoving him to the window. I pointed at it, trying to get him to go to it.

There was a time when the window was sealed. I had managed to get it undone a long time ago but learned better than to try to get out through it. Pavlov's dog and all that.

"Is he... Is he keeping you here," the man asked.

I didn't have time to answer his questions, I just pushed him again.

"How long have you been here?"

I waved him away.

"(Y/n)! I'm home," Hector called from downstairs.

I panicked, pushing the stranger again. I was silently begging him to go. Save himself.

He finally listened to himself, opening the window and beginning to climb out. He turned around in the windowsill.

"I'm coming back for you," he promised.

"(Y/n)?" Hector called again.

"My name's Toby," the stranger explained. I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to figure out why he needed to tell me that. "I'll... I'll be back."

He quickly climbed out of the window. I shoved it closed as soon as I knew that he was out of it completely. I took a deep breath before going to step out into the hall. I walked down the steps, stopping a few steps from the bottom.

"There you are," Hector said. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, furrowing my eyebrows in the hopes of acting like I didn't know why he would be asking.

"Good, good," he muttered. He looked flustered. Worried. He knew that someone had been there. "You can go back to your room."

I nodded again, turning and going back up the stairs.

I let out a shaky breath as soon as my door closed behind me.

Toby was the first person I had seen other than Hector in a very long time. I found myself scared. Terrified. But I couldn't quite figure out what I was scared about. Was it the idea of Hector finding out that I had let some stranger escape after seeing his secret? Or the idea that I may never see Toby again and all that he said about coming back had been a lie? Or was it fear over what life would be like after I finally got out of that house and back to the real world?

I thought that I was going to have time to forget about Toby. I thought it was best to lose the hope early. Some part of me believed that it was going to save me from some pain in the long run.

How foolish of me.

The next night, I heard a noise downstairs again.

And again, I knew it wasn't Hector. He had left for the night. He didn't give me many details, just that he was going out.

I heard the stairs creaking as someone walked up them. Closer and closer to my door. I backed up toward the wall behind me, pressing my hand over my mouth.

It opened slowly.

On the other side of the door was Toby.

My hand fell away as my mouth fell open in shock. He was there. He came back. He was telling me the truth.

"It's okay, it's just me," he held up his hands. "I'm here to get you out."

I furrowed my eyebrows.

He held out his hand. "Come on."

I stared at his hand. There were a million and one ideas going through my mind. I gave up on the idea of being saved a long time ago. I knew the pull that Hector had. I knew the position of power he was in and after so long being in that room... in that house... I just gave up on hoping.

What was I meant to do when someone was finally giving me a chance?

I couldn't get myself to move.

"We don't have much time," Toby said, walking over to me. "We need to hurry. I... I have a place for you. A safe one. We can get you some food and clothes and stuff. And then, we can go to the police and you can explain what happened. Then, the basement gets found and no one else gets hurt."

Wow. He had thought the whole thing through.

"Please... come with me," he pushed one last time, hand outstretched.

I took a deep breath before slowly placing my hand in his. He grinned and started pulling me to the door. I only stopped him long enough for me to pull on some shoes.

After that, Toby dragged me back down the stairs and outside of the house the same way that he had supposedly come in.

After making it through the house and the garden, Toby started running down the road.

I tried to keep up with him, but it had been a long time since I had needed to run any kind of distance. It was also the first time I had truly been outside in years. The cold air made my lungs burn and my legs felt as if they were going numb underneath me.

But then, I felt a smile forming. The first genuine smile I had experienced in so long that I had forgotten it had existed. Along with that smile came tears. Tears of relief as I felt myself finally becoming free again. It was like chains were falling off of my body with every step I took.

I don't know how long we had gone before Toby finally slowed down. I just knew that I didn't recognize anything in the world around me. I continued walking with him, looking around at all of the buildings surrounding me. I never thought about how much the world around me had changed while I wasn't looking. It was overwhelming.

"So, umm... we're gonna stay with my mom. Just until we track down your family," Toby explained. I found my steps slowing down as I watched him. "She... She'll be alright with it once I tell her what's going on."

I stopped completely. Toby was forced to stop when I did because he still had his hand in mine. He furrowed his eyebrows at me.

"What is it?"

I stopped, still unable to form the words that I needed.

"You're safe now. I promise. He's never gonna-"

Toby stopped talking when I stepped forward and hugged him. I wrapped my arms around him tightly, shutting my eyes as firmly as I could. I felt his arms wrapping around me. He kept mumbling that I was safe. That he was going to keep me safe.

"Hey," he muttered. He pulled back, hands touching my upper arms. "We should keep going."

I nodded, letting him reach down and grab my hand again.

We didn't have to sprint away again. Instead, we walked. We walked in a comforting silence.

I took a deep breath. The air was crisp. It was cold against my skin. I never knew how much I would miss a feeling like that until now.

The only part of me that didn't feel the cold of the world around me was my hand. It was warm, Toby's hold on it serving as a protective shield of sorts. There was something about his touch that brought me a sense of peace that I had never known. One that I may not know for a long time after that night when I went to the police.

But I could cherish it for the time being.

And I could love it for the time being.

And that felt like it was good enough for now.

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

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[marrziy]

Jack Marrowbone x Reader

"Decisão de não deixar partir"

• Filme: O Segredo de Marrowbone (2017)

• Gênero: sad

• Sinopse: você está errado e carrega a culpa nas costas, mas o erro em questão convém a você e ao seu amor, então, com grande pesar, você se permite errar, aceitando um futuro miserável para evitar uma tragédia.

• Palavras: 428

1° pessoa - passado

Escrevi pensando em leitor masculino, mas o texto não deixa isso claro (só na sinopse mesmo), então tá aí pra todo mundo kkkk

A receita estava na lixeira, junto aos frascos vazios. As pílulas eram levadas pela descarga, assim como a minha boa vontade de insistir na melhora.

Ele não podia melhorar… Não podia, porque se estivesse curado, iria morrer.

Respirei profundamente, não por necessidade, mas por querer que meu pulmão explodisse de tão cheio.

Tentei me convencer de que essa era a única opção. Afirmei a minha cabeça apegada na moral, que fiz o certo por vias tortas, me livrando um pouco do peso.

Bastava estagnar no passado, era só não seguir em frente que tudo ficaria bem.

Sem ponto final, apenas três pontos…

Encarando meu reflexo no espelho, senti um forte impulso, uma vontade absurda de me castigar. A mão tremia, ansiosa para estapear a face refletida. Mas me contive. Resolvi apaziguar com água, eliminando o caminho salgado das lágrimas secas que escorreram pelas bochechas.

Saí do banheiro em outra versão de mim.

Uma realidade que só era fato porque eu queria muito.

Os primeiros degraus foram fáceis de descer, era a madeira velha de sempre, anunciando os anos de pisoteio a cada rangido.

Mas a risada de Jack ecoou pela casa e chegou aos meus ouvidos. Isso me desestabilizou, arrancou com brutalidade a máscara que eu tentei manter.

A dor inchou na minha garganta, mas eu a engoli.

Insisti no sorriso, para permanecer apresentável, mas meus lábios continuavam curvando para baixo, as sobrancelhas queriam posar em sincronia com minha angústia e os olhos eram sinceros demais para segurar o pranto.

O remorso me roía, atormentava e alucinava.

Pouco antes de ficar visível na sala de jantar, me recompus, fingi estar bem para Jack, que ria docemente de algo contado por um dos irmãos.

Jack enxugou os olhos, marejados de alegria. — Oi amor! Finalmente você acordou. Vem cá! – a voz contagiante me chamou.

E eu corri até ele.

E ignorei tudo ao redor.

Sentei no colo de Jack, o abracei com força, respirando na curvatura de seu pescoço, sentindo-o com todo o meu ser e torcendo para que ele não me sentisse de volta, que não percebesse meus cacos.

— O Billy tava me contando que… – ele foi cortado pela própria doce risada. — que quando ele foi limpar a chaminé, um guaxinim o atacou! Olha pra ele, tá todo descabelado!

Eu olhei, mas não vi nada.

Nas demais cadeiras, não havia ninguém.

Os irmãos de Jack, com quem ele se divertia tanto... só ele os via.

Se eu quisesse vê-los, teria que ir até o coração da floresta, na carcaça de um carvalho, onde os corpos apodreciam a sete palmos da terra.

[georgemackayhey]

Hello! I love your content! Could you do some Bo Cash stuff? Preferably the fluffy, romantic stuff?

Bo Cash content incoming ..... I've always kind of had this blurb in the back of my mind so thank you for giving me a reason to bring it to life! Keeping it short bc I'm pressed for time but if yall want follow up to this blurb pls let me know!

___

You'd saw him stretching toward the afternoon sun, contorting his figure into poses by the pool side. He was lean and fit and striking, too beautiful to be in a rundown place like this. Too beautiful to be in your presence, you thought.

"Bo! I stole dinner!" I voice little and far off called, and the man you'd been admiring turned at the sound of what must have been his name. You peered on as the man stretched to stand and shuffled out of your sight.

Sipping your tea, you pretended to occupy your time with the laundry on the line, and counted down the days until you were meant to leave here. You'd applied to university and had just received an acceptance letter in the mail a day ago. One piece of paper changed the direction of your life, yet your day went on the same as so many before it.

No matter why you'd wound up occupying the little camper van on the dullest side of the city, your days there finally became numbered, and nothing thrilled you more to know.

///

Bo cursed Rell, he'd only just gotten started stretching his limbs that day. And he'd barely gotten a good glimpse of you, the only reason he started yoga by the pool was so that he might have seen you out, that day. But Bo's stomach grumbled, so he turned toward dinner and hoped he could find a way close toward you by next sunset.

///

You sat out by the pool after a long night of planning your future. Planning what to pack and who to tell and how to make enough money to get you to where you planned on going. There was a book in your lap and a drink in your hand and a quiet in the night. The pool was far enough away from most campsites that it felt like a retreat, and close enough to yours that it wasn't a trek to get to. So the quiet was expected. Aside from the croaking of tree frogs in the distance, and a few cars rumbling down the far off freeway... nothing. So when the sound of the pool gate clattered, you turned in surprise.

Your jaw slacked ever so slightly when you saw him. Bo, the man you'd been staring at from across the campsite for a day or two now. He was finally right where you'd hoped you'd find him, alone with you.

///

Bo wasn't thinking when he stormed off, only trying to find space to clear his head. His frustrations and fears fogged his thoughts as he stomped toward the usually empty poolside. And when he looked up and saw you there, every worry and wonder faded from his head. All he saw was you. Finally.

///

"I'm sorry to interrupt I-" He stood awkwardly by the pool gate, assessing the way you sat. You snapped the book in your lap shut, and sat up perhaps too eagerly.

"You don't have to leave." You noted quickly, watching no change in the man's stance or uncertain expression. "It would be nice to have some company, for once." You boldly declare, letting a blush get the better of you all the while.

"Okay." He seemed to decide after a moment's consideration. You watch the man you'd been admiring move toward you, a caution in his step, an intensity in his gaze. His eyes fell too your lap and he asked what you were reading.

"Oh just some biography about a pianist. Glenn Go-"

"Glenn Gould?"

"Yeah, actually."

The man gleamed, seemingly enchanted. "I love him." He admitted. You sat there grinning just as wide, trying to comprehend just how divine this interaction felt. Like life had been leading up to this moment. Like life had been leading up to meeting...

"What is your name?" You wondered. Because you thought you knew it but didn't want to seem like some sort of creep that had been watching him from across the park for a handful of days...

"Bo. Yours?"

And after you'd told Bo what to call you, the floodgates slammed open and were torn off their imaginary hinges. The two of you didn't stop conversing for what felt like hours and hours on end. You were impressed by his vast knowledge, the shreds of it he shared in just this short time alone. You were taken aback by his honesty, listening with respectful intensity when he told you the exact events that led him and his family here tonight. You spoke assuredly when he asked you questions, because you could tell he was really listening to your answers.

There was a desperation to your interaction. Like you had only this one night to get to know Bo, and one chance to make an impression on him. But conversation flowed so easily, and the man sat so relaxed in the chair beside yours that time seemed to stall, and the air felt easier to breath all the while.

Then you asked Bo exactly why he'd come to the pool to escape at this odd hour of the night.

And he told you he'd gotten accepted into university, and had a big fight with his father about the ordeal. And then you asked him which university. And Bo revealed he'd been accepted to the same place you had been.

"I don't know what I'll do. How I'll get there. Or if I'll even be a realistically good fit. I just don't know..."

"Well one fact is for certain," You smiled at him. "If you wind up there, you'll have a friend waiting."

When you told Bo you had been accepted into the same school, he locked his stunning crystal eyes on yours and let his smiled grow wide as you'd seen it yet.

"Divine intervention. It must be." His words were softly spoken, and caused your body to buzz with excited wonder.

"If you need a way there, I leave in three days."

"I-I couldn't pay you. I wouldn't be any help at all." Bo sighed. He spoke a bit more about how frustrated he'd become with his parents for failing to prepare him for the real world. For how lost and hopeless he believed himself to be, despite quickly proving himself to be one of the more remarkable being you'd ever encountered.

"Come with me. Three days from now it won't matter what we do or don't know. It'll be a fresh start. Wanna?"

"But I-"

"Bo, yes or no. That's all you need to say." You smiled, leaning in closer toward his chair as he shifted there. The man you'd been shortly but intensely fascinated with started to nod, like he was winding up to answer for real.

"Yes. I'll go with you." Bo smiled and it was grin so stunning, it could've knocked you dead.

"I could use the company." You called back, making the both of you chuckle.

"Me too." Bo said. You soon gathered your drink and book, and let Bo promise he'd meet you poolside in three days' time. This new start just became all the more exciting.

[positivelybeastly]

From the Ashes Infinity Comics #15: Pygmalion, Part 1

So, for those who are not aware - Infinity Comics are online-only comics distributed through Marvel Unlimited, their subscription based app and browser collection of comics. Regarded as 'inessential,' but still very much canon, the raft of Infinity Comics coming out of From the Ashes have been quite good, but I haven't seen fit to comment on them for a bit, until now, because . . .

Let's go.

For those not aware, Pygmalion is a famous novel by George Bernard Shaw, detailing the attempt by a phonetics professor called Henry Higgins to 'elevate' a Cockney flower-girl named Eliza Doolittle.

Intrigued by a bet that he could pass her off as a duchess through careful schooling, he decides to take her on, and though he succeeds, she ends up feeling marginalised and overlooked, treated as an object of gambling and curiosity rather than an individual in her own right, and though the play is best known for the 'culturing' of Eliza Doolittle, it is as much about the arrogance of Higgins, who is a thoroughly unpleasant and rude individual, in thinking that he has any ownership over Eliza for his education of her. He may have 'created' her, but he does not control her.

The Factory that the X-Men are living in at present must have really good central heating for Cyclops to be wearing basketball shorts and a crop top that short.

Beast is currently investigating some kind of issue with Magneto's chromosomes - to put it succinctly, he appears to be ageing rapidly, and does not have access to his X-gene at present. This is a continuation of the storyline in the previous Infinity arc, which focused on Magneto.

Something worth noting - this is the first acknowledgement of the fact that though Hank's body may be of roughly the same physical age as his original, his mind is considerably younger, situated at some point in his mid 20s. For someone who was always the oldest of the original X-Men, this is fairly significant.

Also worth noting - Hank joins the ranks of superheroes who are actively seeking therapy for their problems! Good on you, Hank! And good on you, too, Scott, for suggesting it. Though, perhaps, given recent developments in the mainline X-Men comics, you should take your own advice . . .

The fact that Hank refers to himself as the only one left seemingly confirms that X-Force took care of the Beast clones who Beast Prime planted around various landmarks as part of the Ghost Calendars arc. Though they were defeated in their respective future timelines, I wasn't quite sure if they had been taken care of in the present as well. This seemingly confirms that they were.

Hank's therapist is Dr. Andrea Sterman, a supporting character from Jed MacKay's Moon Knight run, and a member of the Midnight Mission. Given that the writer, Alex Paknadel, confirmed on Twitter that he talked with Jed MacKay about making sure all the details for Hank's storyline would line up with the mainline X-Men book, I can only imagine this was done as a rather fun continuity nod.

Hank also refers to a Shi'ar warship, an avian alien race that the X-Men deal with on a regular basis. This makes sense, given that Hank was beamed aboard the Shi'ar imperial flagship during the events of Dark Phoenix Saga in 1981 - ancient history for us, but relatively fresh in Hank's mind, given his memories come from 1985.

Hank, naturally, does himself a disservice here. Dark Beast was, assumedly, abducted at a relatively young age from his human parents, and indoctrinated by Mister Sinister as something of a protege - a protege living in perpetual fear of his mentor. He probably didn't have a chance to develop any kind of moral code divorced from the social Darwinist hellhole that is the Age of Apocalypse.

That being said, Hank probably lacks that context, and Dark Beast is unique among Age of Apocalypse denizens, not just for his unerringly cruel nature, having never shown any altruistic tendencies (unlike, say, AoA Cyclops or Nightcrawler), but also for his resilience. He persists, even now - though last seen in Immortal X-Men #9 as a head in a jar, he has come back from the dead at least twice before, and it is unlikely he is gone for good.

Fun fact - his appearance here is based on the costume he wore during his scrap with Emma Frost's X-Men team in a confrontation with Spider-Man and the Lizard. Though the X-Men naturally encountered him after this point, it's fun that this appearance by Dark Beast is considered iconic enough to be the 'definitive' look for him by this comic.

Hank's final remark, about 'Henry McCoy plus time equals atrocity,' is a sentiment often repeated on social media boards, and it's interesting to see it being internalised by Hank himself, given his unique perspective on the events that created his future self and the other potential timelines the X-Men files likely refer to.

Mm. A lot to unpack here.

Hank's relationship with his X-gene has always been complicated, and the way he views it here, as essentially morphing him into a shape that he finds abhorrent, predatory, and beyond his control, is consistent with how Hank seemed to see himself during his feline mutation, which lasted from 2000 to 2013.

Though his feline phase is not referenced in this comic, beyond the 'over time, and with a little help, these became more pronounced,' (probably a reference to Sage's jumpstarting his secondary mutation) it assumedly would be in the files Hank has been using to catch up, and one has to wonder if he's been repeating some of the thought processes that made feline Hank such a uniquely neurotic version of the character.

It's also nice to see a canonisation of my long held fanon that Hank's X-gene is actively attempting to craft a form for him that is best suited for survival, a belief that Hank only hinted at back in Morrison's New X-Men, but which made sense, given the circumstances of his mutation in X-Treme X-Men.

That being said, Hank's own mind seemingly strays back to the night his furry mutation first manifested at the Brand Corporation in Amazing Adventures, where he flew into a berserker rage and nearly killed Carl Maddicks, which always seemed a little incongruous with how Hank was written in subsequent appearances in Avengers and Defenders, but which now seems to be retroactively made an expression of the brutality he was capable of during his feline phase.

The 'violent upheavals' Hank refers to here are likely his initial secondary mutation, and then his near-death experience when said mutation randomly destabilised in All-New X-Men. It could also be a reference to his numerous genetic troubles during X-Factor volume 1.

His opining that he found refuge in the life of the mind is very reminiscent of Hank's desire to find meaning in poetry, literature, art, humanity, in the wake of the changes in his body in both X-Factor and New X-Men. X-Factor #33 and New X-Men #117 both specifically reference his delight in the freedom to think, in opposition to the clouding of the mind that came with his Pestilence inflicted dumbing down, or his newly awakened predatory impulses.

Ironically enough, Magneto is, aside from Simon Williams, the character with whom this version of Hank has shared the most panel time and dialogue, between his conversations in X-Men and previous From the Ashes Infinity Comics. It would appear that Max's need for a cure for his condition are fostering a necessarily stronger bond than Hank and Max have ever shared before in canon.

Precisely where the rest of the team is during the course of these events is unknown. If I had to guess, it's possible this might be set during the events of X-Men #2, where the rest of the team was attending to a mutant rescue in San Francisco, accounting for the lack of availability of the Marauder and a reliance on an old Quinjet.

Quite how Hank got his hands on said Quinjet is unknown, though it's possible it might be a holdover from Hank's Defender days, where he would regularly borrow a Quinjet from the Avengers, for purposes ranging from actual superhero missions to attending Patsy Walker's wedding.

Though this Hank's memories originate in closest proximity to the Defenders, and though that team did enjoy some degree of notoriety under Hank and Candy Southern's stewardship, the Avengers have always been where Hank was most popular in-universe, and he has had a habit of using that association to smooth things over in mutant related books, such as in X-Factor volume 1 and the 90s X-Men run.

Unfortunately, mutant rights are in a more dire state than ever before, with things having seemingly gotten only worse for them since the 1980s, and it's likely Hank didn't expect this level of hatred from normal civilians.

I have, unfortunately, run out of images, so I'll be posting the last of this issue and my final thoughts and predictions in another post.

[loneberry]

After I finished making a midterm exam, Molly and I went to a secret Japanese tea house. It appears on no map, has no hours, no sign. It is as though it exists, somehow, outside this world. When you enter, you give your phone to the owner to lock in a box for the duration of your visit.

We stayed for nearly 6 hours—sat reading poems, chatting with the eccentric owner about Sufism and the ocean and his peculiar flower arrangements consisting of a mix of living and dead plant matter.

How can I describe it, the strange sensation of being alive, late at night in those dim lights, surrounded by beauty. I got up to look at the wares, inhaled the hinoki essential oil—Max Richter was playing as I stared at blank notecards and imagined writing someone a heartfelt note, writing bravely, from that bewitched and emotionally authentic space I was in. I felt a sudden pang. It was the moment opening, with all its counterfactuals, what could have been, what will never be—how deeply I could feel, in that instant, the texture of my grief.

When I’m in the hustle and bustle of my busy and now quite ordinary life, I think, if only I could really hear the voice that says,

“Jackie, it was not for this that you were created.”

Then I would give away all my things and spend my days in prayer.

Susan Howe writes that for Sarah Edwards, “all works of God are a kind of language or voice to instruct us in things pertaining to calling and confusion.”

“...each soul comes upon the call of God in his word. I read words but don’t hear God in them.”

Did I pray, how long in supplication, with my inner eye fixed on that phantom, the phantom with her eyes stitched shut, limbs covered in oak moss. A dream of the opening of the eyes, the inert limbs now lithe and moving toward you. Ordinary objects and sounds are suddenly strange. That’s when the phantom slips through, when I hear the birds singing in a tree...

The blooming moment. Retrospectively, I am convinced that its condition of possibility was the confiscation of my phone, that it is only when we are unplugged that we can sense these holy emanations.

How calm we were, leafing through the book of Japanese death poems (jisei) in the tea house. What will be the last words I write before dying? For all I know, it could be this, or this. I remembered the dying words of George Mackay Brown: “I see hundreds and hundreds of ships sailing out of the harbour.” I remember the fragments Kafka wrote while dying, “lemonade everything was infinite,” his concern for the peony, the improvised performance—the incantation—I did at the Zinc Bar in 2015 using Kafka’s dying words, how J wept in the audience, then wrote me about the snow:

I am the guy, by the way, who said hi on the street, in the snow, after your reading. … I did indeed cry after your Kafka-Cixous incantation, partly because that phrase has been magic to me my whole life. I read Cixous' novel by that name when I studied with her and Derrida in my twenties... Her seminars were amazing. One day, funnily enough, she gave a seminar on snow in Proust, simply because snow was on the ground in Paris. For all sorts of reasons your whole reading shook and tenderised me deeply. I suppose, with the snow through the tinted glass outside, it will forever be, my imagination of what you read will forever be blanche niege texte.

(standing on the corner in manhattan with that powdery snow i was looking at the flowers when you walked past actually, turned, swivelled, i had needed to get out of the bar because the reading had touched me so much . . . i then went and wandered in the snow for an hour, till i happened on a subway, and back to my friend's in brooklyn . . . i have been thinking more today about how effective your reading was to me. it sort of made me feel i could only read poetry from now on if i was embodied, since what convinced in your reading beyond the obvious was the adjustments to us, the audience, the interruptions, the ability to break off, and then the actual concentration because of the embodiments . . . at most poetry readings i am constantly thinking 'i am at a poetry reading' and can't really get beyond the poem-as-poem-at-reading. when you read i was suddenly completely focused. the bodily resonation was right, a recuperation of grace, so i could listen. like before the internet or something. it returned me all the way to early cixous and feminine writing and what that could still mean, a writing beyond master-works and over-sociality of tact, agua viva, what korine might call 'mistakist' heaven. it was my first time in new york. my last night. stop. for now. cut the flowers.)

[fellow-fandom-fruitifier]

(Red songs are ones I feel fit the best, some song are more vibes than anything.)

So I went through every single song I’ve ever downloaded (It’s A LOT, like, it’s a playlist over 30 hours long.) and grabbed all the ones I maladaptive daydream Wukong and/or Macaque to. So, without further ado, I present:

💞✨An Overly Long Wukong/Macaque “Playlist”✨💞

People Eater and Misery Meat by Sodikken

Sober by FIDLAR (makes me think of a v angsty shadowpeach fic from SWK’s POV)

Rät by Penelope Scott

Scrawny by Wallows

Nowhere To Run by Stegosaurus Rex

I’m Gonna Win by Rob Cantor

Poor George by James Supercave

Candle Queen by GHOST

Copycat by VocaCircus

Bury A Friend by Billie Eilish

Can’t Be Erased by Coda

Ghosts by Jacob Tillberg

Maniac by Conan Gray

Snowcone by Rei Ami

OH NO! and Are You Satisfied by Marina & The Diamonds

Good Enough by Atsuover

Two Birds by Regina Spektor

Bird Song by Florence + The Machine

Suki Suki Daisuki by Jun Togawa

Saint Bernard by Lincoln

I Can’t Decide by Scissor Sisters

Ghosting, Wrecking Ball, Hayloft (+ Hayloft II), Arms Tonite (YES IK WHAT ITS ACTUALLY ABT SHUP UP😭), and Problems by Mother Mother

Everybody Loves Me by OneRepublic

Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes

Violent by Carolesdaughter

Troublemaker by Olly Murs

Sweet Tooth and Devil Town by Cavetown

Bust Your Kneecaps by Pomplamoose

Cupid’s Chokehold by Gym Class Heroes

Cloud 9 by Beach Bunny

I Can’t Fix You by The Living Tombstone

Hot N Cold by Katy Perry

Applause by Lady Gaga

She Wants Me Dead by Cazette

Backstabber by Kesha

Hell’s Comin’ With Me by Poor Mans Poison

Paparazzi Murder Party by Vain

‘Cause I’m A Liar by Mcki Robyns-P

Choke by IDKHBTFM

Everything Stays by Adventure Time

I / Me / Myself by Will Wood (Idk y, it just feels so wholesome shadowpeach-y 2 me)

Worst Case Scenario and Goodbye MR A by The Hoosiers

Anything You Want by JAWNY

Stalkers Tango by Autoheart (listen… listen man… just think abt it)

Bad Day by Darwin Deez

Fuck You by Lily Allen (bitter exes💀)

True Love FT. Lily Allen by P!nk

Feels by Calvin Harris

Change The Formality by Infected Mushroom

I Just Threw Out The Love Of My Dreams by Weezer

Villain by Stella Jang

Washing Machine Heart by Mitski

Ghost Busters (bcz I think it’s fun E, just imagine SWK & others like ‘who ya gonna call’ & 6EM is the ghost)

Pride X New Magic (I MEAN C’MON “Loves gonna get you killed, but prides gonna be the death of you.” IDBSIXGSINSEIH, the edit audio ever)

Sucker By Jonas Brothers

Bloody Nose and Kitchen Fork by Jack Conte (this song has the vibes that just scream the past tragedy part of their relationship 2 me, idk how 2 explain it)

Passing Through by Kaden MacKay

Karma by AJR

One Way Or Another by Blondie

These Boots Are Made For Walking by Nancy Sinatra

Bad Idea! by Girl In Red

Brutal by Olivia Rodrigo

Them Changes by Thundercat (same reason as the Jack Conte songs tbh, but it’s more the present tragedy part)

C’est toi qu’elle préfère by Alice et Moi

Break My Heart by Dua Lipa

Jesus On The Telephone by Machinery Of The Human Heart

Too Close and Michelle by Sir Chloe

Another Believer by Rufus Wainwright

Dancin Closer To The Edge by JOHNNH GOTH

Julie VS. Robot Julie by Arthur

She Wolf by Shakira

I Don’t Want To Set The World On Fire by The Ink Spots

Plug Me In by Lil Soda Boi

Run, Rabbit, Run! by Flanagan & Allen

Youth by Daughter

Stay Calm by BonBun Films

Exorcism FT. Cyber Diva by Creep-P

Step On Me by The Cardigans

Girl Anachronism by The Dresden Dolls

I’m Not The Only One by Sam Smith (it’s prolly just me tbh)

Shit by Bo Burnham

NARCISSISTIC PERSONALITY DISORDER by Odetari (THE VIBES N SHIT, THE GIRLS R FIGHTIIIING)

[pynkhues]

Have you seen the movie American psycho it is apparently going to be a remake, and there are lots of opinions on who should be Patrick the main lead some people are suggesting that the role should be gender swapped or a person of color. What are your thoughts on this and who do you think would be best for the role ?

Yeah, I have. Honestly, there's not really a story I can imagine is less built for a gender or race swap in the casting? The whole point of American Psycho is that Patrick Bateman benefits from, and is protected by, white supremacy and the patriarchy in a way that not only enables his lifestyle and his murders, but also provides him with cover because the white men he's surrounded with are enough like him that he can pass for one of them. Casting a woman or a person of colour I just don't think would work on a narrative level because they don't benefit from the same systemic protections that straight white men do. It would completely change the themes of the story.

As for casting, I don't know, really! I don't think American Psycho is a story that needs a remake, least of all from a male director (Mary Harron's direction of the original is the reason the film works, and while I overall like Luca Guadagnino's films, I do find him a bit hit or miss - and controversially for tumblr.com, haha, I hated his remake of Suspiria). That said, I think someone like George MacKay or Harris Dickinson would probably be very good in the role? Oh, actually I think Aaron Taylor-Johnson would probably be interesting too, especially because I think he's got a lot more range than he gets credit for. So yes! I guess my thoughts are 'no', haha, but it probably will be a showcase piece for an actor in their late twenties/early thirties just as it was for Christian Bale.

[blueishyellowish]

What if Hank Pym Ant-Man was in the MCU

Okay but, I keep thinking about this like all the time, about what if the MCU was different and introduced Ant-Man and Wasp into the universe traditionally. Like how they were in the comics of course.

But obviously marvel went against it, I imagine they wanted to avoid the ScreenRant article saying like “Hank Pym was different in the comics versus how he is in the movies.” Disney did not want a “wife-beater,” as one of their main characters. (Of course, Peter Parker, Tony Stark and Reed Richards did somethings similar in their comics but that’s a different story)

Theres two versions I think they could have went with. One being where they had the classic origin/introduction film and then he was brought into the MCU. But let’s talk realistic. If were being honest the success of the MCU was basically luck thanks to RDJ and Iron Man, since he was the flagship of the MCU he was going to be their token character from the beginning.

In the Avengers, Tony is the “smart” character, and of course Bruce was there as well. Having Hank on top of everyone else would mean someone would be pushed to the side and there would be too many geniuses in the picture. I think EMH portrayed this well in contrast only because Bruce wasn’t a main character and it was mostly only the Hulk. If anything, if Hank was in the story, Bruce would have been sidelined. Bruce’s presence was filler for Hank in a way. Necessary sacrifices had to be made and that’s okay.

The second way would to be introduce Hank during Age of Ultron, a scientist who has been in the background who created Ultron and the Avengers have to defeat him with his help. But, at this point in the story, it would have been too late to introduce another main Avenger and would not make sense to have someone appear from nowhere. In addition, Tony was the most popular character and it made the most sense for him to be the creator of Ultron as much as it snubs Hank’s character. He was the true creator and literally Ultron looks that way because it’s supposed to look like an ant.💀 However I did of course enjoy Age of Ultron. Establishing Tony’s fear of the unknown and an incessant need to keep the world save from the beginning of his story pipelined very nicely into him being the creator of Ultron.

It’s all very interesting and unfortunate because things happened the way they were not for fan service or to be true to the comics, but what was most popular. And that is the reality of making Marvel a big cinematic franchise, there is going to be sacrifices to things we would have appreciated to see on screen.

At the end of the day, I do believe the decision to leave him out was “the right thing to do,” but only for the MCU. Without Iron man, the whole thing wouldn’t really exist and Scott Lang was something “different,” then the rest of the heroes and repetition in this format is doomed to fail.

Ultimately, I just really wished they didn’t cancel EMH. I honestly would be just happy if Hank and Janet are least were able to finish their story’s in the show and there would never be an urge to see a reboot with a young version of them on the big screen. The version of Hank in EMH was a really creative take on fixing the character and in the MCU they just never gave him a chance. The biggest shame is not giving Wasp a real spot in the Avengers as well, she literally gave them the name “Avengers.”

Anyways I digress.

For laughs and giggles I think there are some really good casting opportunities for Hank and Janet if they ever get their debut movie. (Which probably won’t happen at this point.)

One can wish though.

George MacKay as Hank Pym aka Ant-Man

Anne Hathaway as Janet Van-Dyne aka the Wasp

[ramblingroommate]

My Dracula Daily Fan Cast

Am I extremely late to this whole thing? Yes. Do I care? Nope! Let’s go :)

Dracula

Shaun Toub: for the longest time I actually had Claes Bang (who has played Dracula before!) in this role, but after re-reading Dracula’s description for the twentieth time I couldn’t get Shaun’s face out of my head. Neither actor is English (not a coincidence) but while Claes is danish, Shaun is an iranian-born american actor. We don’t really know Dracula’s origins so I thinks it’s fine. Shaun is also almost ten years older than Claes which is great for the first part of the story and less so for the second half, but I think he could still play it off really well with the right make up (or CGI).

Jonathan Harker

George Mackay: he’s a British actor most people know for his role in the war movie 1917. I chose him because he has the general look I want for Jonathan (generic white boy my beloved) and I think he could bring justice to our dear friend, showing the hardships of the character really well instead of making him dull just to push a dracmina romance.

Mina Murray

Olivia Cooke: she’s an English actress mostly known for her roles in ready player one and house of the dragon. I mostly chose her because of her looks (tho I imagine Mina with black hair) but I know she was in her fair share of horror movies and even in a historical drama - both genres that mesh really well with Dracula.

Lucy Westenra

Sydney Sweeney: it was really hard choosing an actress for Lucy! Mina is always going on about how pretty she is so I wanted that but I also wanted PAIN. Sydney acted in Euphoria where she interpreted the character of Cassie who, and I quote, “fell in love with every guy she ever dated. Whether they were smart or stupid or sweet or cruel, it didn't matter. She didn't like to be alone”. I think that’s suuuuch an interesting acting experience for someone who has to play Lucy. The actress is four or five years younger than the other actors but Lucy is canonically 19 years old so I think that’s fine.

Arthur Holmwood

Simon Castle: Arthur was THE HARDEST to cast for me, I don't know why. I wanted a young noodle-ly boy with a sweet face but also a bit of a trust fund kid kind of vibe and I guess it was a hard balance to strike.

Quincey Morris

Dacre Montgomery: do I even have to say anything? Just look at the pictures… perfect actor for a perfect himbo.

Jack Seward

Charlie Rowe: I decided on this actor after seeing him in Rocketman; at first he seems like a big shot producer but then the real guy shows up and makes fun of him (that whole thing was too Jack and Van Helsing for me to ignore). I couldn’t decide between clean shaven and slight stubble so I put both.

Abraham Van Helsing

Mads Mikkelsen: I don't know yall. I just really like Mads okay?

[akajustmerry]

I would also go insane over a trc show but also kinda hope one never gets made bc I know how picky I am abt adaptations of books I love

HOWEVER, every time I watch reservation dogs I think abt how good Paulina alexis would be as blue, and every time I watch his dark materials I think abt how good amir Wilson would be as Adam, then I spend the next half hour imagining how I would adapt trc for tv

Anyway, I know fan casting teen characters is hard bc it gives you a very narrow age range of actors to choose from, but do you have any actors you think would be really good as a trc character? Even actors who have aged out of the roles now but would have been good when they were younger (for me it's Robert Sean Leonard as Gansey)

okay I delayed answering this until I had a cast in my head but omg yes Amir Wilson as Adam is perfect!! My fancast for the rest would be:

young Keke Palmer as Blue

young George Mackay as Gansey

young Archie Renaux as Ronan Lynch

Noah Schnapp as Noah Czerny (sorry to type cast him here but he would be so good)

Aja Naomi King as Maura

Lisa Bonnet as Neeve

Justina Muchado as Calla

Yara Shahidi as Orla

Danielle Brooks as Jimi

Eva Green as Persephone (to fill the Penny Dreadful Vanessa Ives shaped whole in my heart)

Young Alden Ehrenreich as Kavinsky

Young Ki Hong Lee as Henry Cheng

Rami Malek as The Grey Man

Did I miss anyone?? Anyways, this was fun to think about thank you for asking, legend 😊

[scotianostra]

November 14th 1910 saw the birth of poet Norman MacCaig, at 15 East London Street Edinburgh

He made his living as a primary-school teacher. He was a lifelong pacifist and during World War II served a term in prison for his beliefs. There is a suggestion that this became a shadow over his subsequent career and that advancement was blocked because of it.

I've said this before but I sometimes wish I had been born a few decades earlier, having started drinking in Milnes Bar in the late 80's/early 90's so I missed the likes of MacCaig, Tom Scott, George Mackay Brown, Robert Garioch and Hugh MacDiarmid who used frequent the place, especially MacCaig and MacDiarmid, who used engage in flyting, which had it's origins in medieval times. Flyting is a ritual, poetic exchange of insults, if you think of modern day rap battles, then take it back several hundred years and in old language, you get the idea, I can imagine being at the bar listening to these word smiths joust with each other.

Anyway when MacCaig eventually left teaching he was appointed Edinburgh University’s first Writer in Residence in 1967. In 1970 he joined the English Department of Stirling University, becoming Reader in Poetry. He retired in 1978 and enjoyed a long period as a freelance poet. He died on 23rd January 1996.

I love a wee poem to myself in posting and this one I can really relate to them having spent many an November night out in the cold nights in Edinburgh.

November night, Edinburgh.

The night tinkles like ice in glasses.

Leaves are glued to the pavement with frost.

The brown air fumes at the shop windows,

Tries the doors, and sidles past.

I gulp down winter raw. The heady

Darkness swirls with tenements.

In a brown fuzz of cottonwool

Lamps fade up crags, die into pits.

Frost in my lungs is harsh as leaves

Scraped up on paths. – I look up, there,

A high roof sails, at the mast-head

Fluttering a grey and ragged star.

The world’s a bear shrugged in his den.

It’s snug and close in the snoring night.

And outside like chrysanthemums

The fog unfolds its bitter scent.

[unravellingsilencehq]

“Oh, Merlin, tell me, does THE CHALLENGER get what he deserves?” He is in THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX & OPEN to finding out. 

— he walks through the world as ;

name → arthur weasley pronouns → he/him identification → cis male year of birth → september 1955 - september 1956 face claim → george mackay blood status → pure-blood sexual orientation → up to applicant occupation → researcher for the department of magical law enforcement at the ministry of magic future information → father of fred, george, ronald, and ginvera weasley

— he is best described as ;

The UNIQUE amongst the ordinary, built up with an abundance of LOVE and IMAGINATION. He is the FRIENDLY face you see actively listening, the CURIOSITY when met with the unknown, the voice of STRENGTH and SUPPORT when times seem dark. He is the FIGHTER for all things good. Under the CAREFUL PROTECTION of those he loves, he can see the LIGHT that peaks through the end of a long storm.

— his story starts with ;

Being a family of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, it would be expected that Arthur Weasley was born into the usual lap of luxury so many others were but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Even with Cedrella Weasley being from the prominent Black family, her marriage to Septimus brought nothing except her estrangement from the Noble and Ancient House of Black. Instead Arthur’s childhood was spent in a large country cottage located in Ottery St. Catchpole, passed down from generation to generation, fondly named The Burrow. A home that was as comfortable as it was quaint and Arthur wouldn’t have it any other way. He had many memories of dishes washing themselves, kettles singing songs when they were ready to be poured, running through various hallways with BILLIUS WEASLEY [brother] and ALFRED WEASLEY [brother]. Overall, Arthur and his brothers lived the sort of childhood Muggle children would read about in storybooks; surrounded by all sorts of magic but never given any expectations to how he was supposed to live. He could just enjoy the magic for what it was: magic.

The laughter and fun of the Burrow only grew when his cousins came around. With DAISY HOOKUM [cousin] so close in age, it was only natural that Arthur became close with her. Daisy understood him in many ways his other family members could not, she lived in her own fantasy world and Arthur was more than happy to go along with her on the adventure. Daisy’s adventures also tended to include her younger sibling IRIS HOOKUM [cousin], trailing along behind them as Arthur led them through the various fields surrounding his home. During one of these trips outside, the wizard had come to discover a mismatched cube of colors sitting amongst the dirt. Arthur had never known any other families in the area besides the few wizarding families just over the hill, so why such a contraption was just innocently sitting there was beyond him but he carried it with him everywhere. It juggled around in his pocket as he picked up his Hogwarts robes with Daisy, it was his comfort as he stood in line to be sorted at Hogwarts and it was only in the safety of Gryffindor’s common room that he even brought it into the light.

He had been rather surprised when a blonde haired witch sat down next to him and told him it was called a Rubik's Cube. LILIAS ROSMERTA [best friend] gathered it in her hands, fingers shifting the pieces quickly, and finally tossing it back to him with all the sides matching colors. She had been his first friend outside of his cousins and Arthur discovered quickly she was the person who would hold all the answers to his questions. Lilias was a loud and outgoing Muggle Born, having only heard of the wizarding world from her older sister until her Hogwarts letter arrived. It was through Lilias that Arthur became acquainted with KALEB JOHNSON [friend] and COINNEATH MCKINNON [friend]. They became a close knit group and watching Lilias and Kaleb be targeted for their blood, sparked Arthur’s interest in activism. Something that came in between him and his brothers quickly. He found himself getting in trouble for raising his wand towards those who chose to bully students that were believed lesser than them. While his brothers were making plans to join a respectable career path, Arthur was busy arguing with LUCIUS MALFOY [adversary] in the school hallways. 

There was an obvious strain in the family as his brothers wrote to him to watch his tongue and hold back on the detentions. Though the strain lessened when Arthur began getting close to MIRAY WEASLEY [wife], back then Molly Polat, another member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. It was Molly’s love for her friends and family that drew Arthur in; she wore her heart on her sleeve and often found herself putting others' needs above her own. By the time graduation from Hogwarts came around, Arthur and Molly were in a serious relationship and he had accepted Billius’ help in acquiring a job as a researcher at the Ministry of Magic in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. There wasn’t much in the job that was exciting to him, that was until he discovered the overpiling of Muggle Artifacts in the Auror’s Office. Most of the artifacts had been tampered with by dark wizards and handed over to Muggles with the intent of harming them. It was a string of objects leading to Muggle fatalities all around London that brought KINGSLEY SHACKLEBOLT [friend/colleague] into his life along with the Order of the Phoenix. 

Arthur had been working with Kingsley to reverse the curses on the objects when the man had approached the topic of the Order. Having heard of Arthur’s activism in school and seeing his spell casting abilities firsthand, Kingsley had thought Arthur would be a perfect member to the team. It came as a shock to him at first, but Arthur quickly agreed to join, anything to help combat the darkness that was slowly taking hold of the world. Shortly after joining up with the Order, Molly had come to him and announced she was pregnant. With Arthur’s eyes opened to what the world was going through and how that would affect their future family’s future, he brought up the idea of an elopement. Despite being surprised, Molly had accepted and they had been married before 1981 was over, welcoming their first child William ‘Bill’ shortly after. But their happiness only lasted so long, Molly’s parents were quick to disown her for marrying a blood traitor. Arthur stood beside her as any good husband should and did what he could to help her through the difficult time. Things did not get better in 1982, despite them discovering they would welcome their second child, Charlie, instead it seemed the chaos was just starting.

The night of the Summer Solstice ball seemed to haunt Arthur, watching Lilias faint in the middle of the party before being transported off to St. Mungo had left an unsettling feeling in his stomach. The feeling only intensified as ALASTOR MOODY [mentor] ordered him and ALICE YEN [friend/colleague] to return to the Fountain of Fair Fortune to protect the prophecy the Order had obtained. Once they stepped foot in the bar, it became known they were vastly outnumbered and unfortunately found themselves in St. Mungo’s as well, the prophecy long gone. While Arthur was happy to have made it out alive to be home with Molly, Bill, and Charlie, he was fearful as Alastor relayed the events that took place at the ball after he had left. Having welcomed their third child, Percy, in the beginning of 1984, Arthur had high hopes that the world would be stepping up to fight against the Dark Lord but it seemed people had gone into hiding for their own safety. He’s spent the last two years alternating his time at home with Molly and the boys and working with the Order to figure out why the Death Eaters have seemingly gone silent. Obviously they’re planning for something big and Arthur is ready to be on the front lines to fight for a better world for his family.

— he is a LEVEL 6 WIZARD & readied for war ;

[georgemackayhey]

Now that we are talking about your marvelous George Mackay series. I'm so obsessed with Rules to fall in love. Is there a way we can get a blurb anytime soon. Like when George and the reader are further into their relationship. Something like, really romantic and wholesome.

thank you thank you thank you nonny! im still so proud of that series... here is a little glimpse into their future for ya ;)

The pair of you fell in love in that little house outside of the city. The first place George purchased that wasn't some dilapidated apartment. The first place you'd felt comfortable overstaying your welcome in. But you were both ready for a change, for a bigger kitchen and a dining room with space enough to host your own weekend dinner parties.

George started scouting out for places in your price range, and with enough windows and garden space to keep you happy. After months of considering the pros and cons of many an English countryside villa, you'd both decided on the picture perfect ranch. It took you no time at all to pack up and start to settle in, after some taxing weeks of repairs and painting parties.

Once the home was relatively set up, there was less clutter and more room to fill up than you knew what to do with. George wondered aloud about using one of the few spare rooms as a library. You wondered about game nights and movie nights and all the wonderful ways you'd get to use your new kitchen.

Then came time for the house warming, planned entirely by George's sister. She ordered take away, corralled Dean and Claire into bringing desserts everyone tore through before dinner arrived; and her parents to bring wines that you stored away for future celebrations. Your new home was filled with the same old familiar faces you'd loved for a long time. You gushed about planning more parties and George's sweet sister hoped to stop back by tomorrow with board games in tow.

"Sorry sweet girl, but we've got some different plans." You frowned, ensuring that it wouldn't be too long before her wishes came true, though.

"We do?" George cocked a brow from the big leather sofa and peered your way. He didn't know it yet, but you had something up your sleeve.

"We do."

The next night you scurried to light candles and set up the vinyl player and spent hours watching George's favorite meal cooking to perfection. It was ready just as you saw his headlights reflecting up the driveway. You set up the table with your heartbeat in your throat, mixing your husbands favorite drink.

"What's all this?" He laughed, shuffling through the door. Everything was perfect.

"Come, sit, drink!" You demanded, reaching out to drag the man to the spot you'd set for him at the table. You gestured toward the rum and coke you'd made him and sat at adjacent seat at the head of the table.

"Are we celebrating, again? I can't believe you went through all this trouble." George's bright eyes shone as he scanned the set table.

"I wanted the first meal I made to be your favorite. And... we are celebrating again, because I've discovered the perfect way to set up one of our spare rooms."

"Well pour yourself a drink, love, we'll toast to our home settling into perfect shape as you tell me every detail of this new idea of yours!" He held his glass in his hand, watching you and waiting with a smile. You smiled too, but stayed settled in your chair.

"I can't drink, George." You hoped he'd gathered the confession behind your statement, and wondered why you were so nervous about what you were positively certain would be received as good news by your husband.

You watched as George heard you, you watched as the words processed in his head, as he connected the dots about how you'd known what to do with one of those spare rooms.

"You're-"

"Almost three months now, the doctor says."

George sprang from his seat and latched onto you in the blink of an eye, you never saw him move, you just felt his encapsulating hold all of a sudden. He spoke so fast you could barely understand a word but you could tell by the tone in his voice he was the happiest he'd ever been.

George rambled about how this was the best news and the best night and how much he loved you. He kissed you again and again and again until you had to push him back to his seat.

"I spent all damn night making you this dinner so you're going to have to keep your hands to yourself until you've eaten every fucking bite."

You chuckled, and he did too, as you wiped away a few stray tears from his stunning face.

"Are we to write out a set of rules for this? What do you think?" He asked between bites of food and after thanking you for making it so wonderfully.

"Luckily I think there are already enough rule books out there for this sort of thing." You laughed. "We may want to make a game plan for telling your family though. Your sister is going to rocket off to the moon and your mother may have a heart attack and perish before she gets to enjoy this grandchild she'd been begging me for before you and I even said 'I do' or slept together for that matter."

The pair of you laughed and dreamed of the future and you boasted over your well made dinner and George did in fact eat every last bite. No matter how unorthodoxly you'd come into making this your reality, your every day, you were more glad with each passing moment that George decided too fall in love with you, too.

[sassy-ahsoka-tano]

ARCHEOLOGICAL DRAMA?? REGENCY ROMANCE??? MIMS BESTIE I NEED DETAILS NOW 👀💕

omg okay!! i kinda already described the archaeology one and i can't think of anything else to say that won't give something away ahahaha

BUT the regency one just really gives me life when i have the energy to work on it. i'm such a slut for good slow burn romances and historical settings are such a conducive environment for that, especially the victorian and regency eras 🥴 thank you propriety and harsh social judgment

BUT basically that one follows two childhood friends, George and Adelaide, as they try to navigate their family's expectations for them. It takes place in britain ofc, but George has been away at war in America and Addie got sent away to girl's manner school to make her more obedient, so they both have personal growth to do. they reconnect years later as adults so it's mostly just about them navigating familial expectations and their love for each other.

i have sooo many details to iron out. i worry that i make original characters too predictable or basic when i want them to be ✨ different ✨ . i'm a tropey writer and i feel like that's bad for novels but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

i also love working on the regency one cause i can imagine george as whoever i want (although you could probably guess that i originally started it when i was DEEP in a george mackay phase, hence his name 💀 )