#iain glen characters

[shadeysprings]

Wilting Blossom

—Jorah Mormont x F!Reader

Summary: Trapped in the dungeons, the Lord Commander comes to make a bargain.

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, age gap, size kink, vaginal fingering, coercion & entrapment. There may be more but thread carefully as this is a dark fic.

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's Week Four Challenge: Across the Universe. I started this event with Jorah and I feel it was only right to end it with him. GOT is one of the universes I love to dabble in and Jorah, if you know me, is the one that holds my heart.

Your feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated. Support content creators! And of course, I hope you guys enjoy! ❤️

With your hand outstretched, you try to catch the rays of the sun as it trickles through the small window of your cell. You bask in what little warmth it offers, the heat kissing your skin and slowly staving off the cold emitted by the stone walls that surround you. 

But just as quickly, you pull your hand back and push yourself against the wall, hugging your knees to your chest and shrouding yourself once more in the darkness when you hear the dungeon doors open. Heavy footsteps echo through the narrow hall, guards shouting and banging against the bars that confine you and your fellow prisoners, who in turn, retaliate by shouting curses in their wake. 

The tension in the air then thickens when you sense the band stop by your cell, their presence imposing and looming. 

“Unlock it.”

You stiffen and huddle closer to the wall when you catch the familiar timbre of Lord Commander Mormont amidst the low rabble of the dungeon. The sound of keys jingling and the lock going undone, your chest constricting in fear as the hinges of what keeps you separated from them creak as it swings open.

He’s the reason you were thrown into this purgatory. His profession of mercy when he stands beside the Targaryen Queen proves false when he gave no chance to hear your apologies. Though, deep down, you know you’re just as much to blame as he is. 

“Wait outside.” He instructs one of his men. “We are not to be disturbed. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Lord Commander.” Another familiar voice responds, Ser Jaime Lannister’s, but you hear nothing more than retreating steps and the pounding of your heart as you’re left alone with the leader of the queensguard.

His footfalls are slow and measured, akin to a predator circling its prey. You hide your face from him, not wanting to see the demon clothed in fine gold. 

“Don’t hide from me.” A command and you contemplate doing as you’re bid but he makes his impatience known when he nudges you with his boot. You swallow thickly as you tilt your chin up, taking in his tall stature as he towers over you, his golden armor glinting against the light of the sun and his sapphire eyes burning with devious desire as he stares down at you. 

A silent gasp then leaves your lips when he crouches at your level,  “How was your stay here, thief?” He asks, a smirk forming on his lips and you divert your eyes away. “Cold isn’t it? You’d rather be out in the sun?” His tone makes your blood start boiling, anger burning in your chest as he taunts you with freedom.

But your chest quickens when he reaches behind him, your arms instinctively shielding yourself as you expect him to pull out a dagger and give you your sentence right there on the muddy floors of the cell. Yet, the blow doesn’t come, instead, you hear him chuckling, mirth present in his voice and you peek through your arms to see him holding out a loaf than a weapon. 

“Take it,” he urges. “I know you’re hungry.” You stare at the offered food, stomach growling at the sight. “This will taste better than the slop they feed you lot down here.” His voice is calm yet calculating all the same, but all at once soothing, if you’re to be honest with yourself. 

Hesitation fills you, eyes shifting from the loaf and then at him. For you know there are more creative ways to kill a peasant than to throw them under the blade. 

“It’s not poisoned if that’s what you’re thinking.” The Lord Commander chuckles and rips a piece of the bread before tossing it in his mouth.

As soon as he finishes, parting his lips to expose the empty cavern, you snatch the fare from his grasp and bite into it with greed, the spongy texture tickling your mouth and settling your hunger, humming a moan at the taste. 

Ser Jorah laughs once more, his eyes light with amusement as he watches you feast. “There’s more where that came from,” He coos, and you watch him closely when he shifts to near you, keeping the bread to your lips in fear of him taking it away. “Maybe some meat and cheese, lemon cakes too, if you wish. Wouldn’t you want that?” You feel your mouth water as he lists down the items, your stomach rumbling once more. 

“I can give you so much more, petal,” He continues, your body going rigid as dread crawls up your spine when his gloved hand reaches over to caress your arm, the blue pools in his turning darker and you hear his breathing grow heavier. “A warm bed, a full belly, a better life.” The knight breathes, “And you need only give me what I want in return.”

“And what is that?” Your voice comes out in an instant, startling both of you, the Lord Commander’s grin widening at your question. 

“You.”

Your brow furrows and the anger from before returns in a burst of flames, throwing the half-eaten loaf at his face and quickly pushing yourself from the ground and making your way out of your cell.

But such an attempt of escape is fruitless; Ser Jorah easily recovers from your pitiful attack and grabs you by the ankle, making you fall to the ground and cry in pain and soon in fear when he crawls over you, gasping when the length of his arm pins your shoulders to the muddy ground.

“Ah, ah,” He tuts and laughs as you struggle against his hold, nails scraping on the cobblestone floor as you try to get away from him, but you choke when his arm slips to the back of your neck, weeping uncontrollably and begging for his mercy upon feeling his other hand slip underneath your skirt. “Disobedient girls don’t get that privilege,” Hot breath fans over your cheek when he leans closer, crushing you with the weight of his armor. “They are left to rot in cells while men come and go as they please, to rape them, torture them even.”

“Ser—” You cry, “Please—”

“And I would hate to see a pretty flower like you be ruined, watching your petals wilt away.” Your lips tremble when he presses his nose against your hair, disgust blooming at the pit of your stomach when he rolls his hips, feeling the erection in his breeches press against your ass. “But I am a forgiving and generous man, and I can save you from such fate.” He slowly eases off of you and you groan when he flips you to your back, only to pin you down once more with his arm over your chest. 

You lock eyes with him, your mind swimming in the words of the Lord Commander, drowning in them for you know them to be true. How whispers fly across the city of women taken into captivity, treated like whores, and leaving with either a babe in their belly or hanging at the center of King’s Landing.

But should that alone be the drive for you to take his offer? A life of servitude to the knight? A bed warmer? You regale in the thought and realize it makes no difference if one man or several take you against your will because all the same, you’re nothing but a thing to be used, an object to the eyes of the nobles and ones of power, keeping you bound to whichever hell they see fit. 

You’ve heard stories of the Lord Commander, the once Lord of the northernmost island, knighted by King Robert himself at the Siege of Pyke. How he was exiled to the neighboring country for his misdeeds yet found back his honor at the side of the Dragon Queen. 

They said he was a just, merciful, and honorable man, but what you see before you are anything but, for there is no mercy dripping from his tongue nor honor looming in his eyes, only hunger for the flesh—your flesh—and greed for control over the ones who have none.

Still, you are nothing compared to him; a peasant of the city—no power or riches to bargain for your freedom.

“So, what will it be, thief?” He asks, looking up into his sapphires with fear as you decide and give your answer.

That was but a year ago, the dregs of the dungeon are now washed away by the cool waters you’re allowed to indulge in the vast chamber. Your rags, replaced with sheer silk dresses—luxurious as they seem, they give you no sense of decency as they expose everything underneath. But food is no longer scarce, one you treat as a blessing yet such gifts are nothing but a tether to your new prison. 

You sit by the plush chaise, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks that hold the fortress of the Red Keep filling your ears while you watch the strong winds blow against the sails of the ships that come in and out of the capitol. You can’t help but long to set foot on the sandy beaches once more, to bask in the freedom you once knew before being found by the Lord Commander himself stalking in the royal kitchen.

You may have simply been surviving in the past—fleeting through the narrow walk of Flea Bottom and rummaging through the wastes of the highborn for something to eat—but, at the least, you were free.

The door of the chamber swings open and you immediately stand from your perch, folding your hands at your front as you watch Ser Jorah walk in, his golden armor glowing in the afternoon light and you swallow thickly when he flicks the lock within. 

His eyes meet yours and your spine tingles in fear when you see the hunger within them. He unties the belt holding his sword from his waist and hangs it by the hook at the side of the door before slowly walking over to the chaise, measured hand pulling off his gloves and tossing them on the plush surface. 

“Wine.” He says after dropping himself on the settee and you quickly reach for the jug on the table in front, kneeling as you pour a generous amount into the goblet. 

With careful hands you hold it out to him, giving you a smile before taking the cup from your grasp and holding out his hand to you in return. You take it and follow his lead, standing between his parted legs before settling yourself on his thick thigh when he nudges you to sit. 

He then lifts the cup to his lips, taking long and heavy gulps with some of the red liquid spilling from the sides and clinging to his golden beard. As soon as he finishes, he leans forward to set the goblet on the low table before focusing his attention on you, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist while his other hand rests on your knee, kneading it before caressing the expanse of your thigh. 

“How are you while I was away, little flower?” He asks, “I hope you weren’t too lonely.”

“The view of the sea kept me entertained, Ser.” You murmur, squeaking in surprise when he pulls you flush against him. 

“I bring you good news then.” He drones, shifting you on his lap and you grab his arm when he presses your back against his plated chest, hooking your knees over his and spreading your legs wide when he parts his. “I sail for Dorne in a fortnight and I’m taking you with me.” His voice is low, whispering against your ear and your chest tightens when he bunches the skirt of your dress over your waist, shivering, skin tingling when his hand skims over your inner thigh. 

“A m-most generous o-offer, Ser—” You mumble, your other hand gripping his wrist as you try to push him away, gasping as an aching need bloom at the pit of your abdomen when he finds purchase of your cunt and rolls a finger against your sacred bud. “But p-people will s-see—the queen—” The words die on your lips when he quickens the movement of his hand, your lips parting, mouth hanging open as you try to catch your breath. 

“I care not of whispers,” He growls against the crown of your head, and you gasp sharply when he slips two fingers past the folds of your weeping blossom. “Everyone should know who it is you belong to.”

He clutches your waist tight, keeping you pressed to him as he fucks you desperately with his hand, the walls of your cunt stretching wide at the thickness of his fingers and the soreness from the night before burning within once more along with the fire of your unwanted desire. 

Words of pleas for him to stop linger at your lips but never leave, your legs shaking as your arousal spikes, your cunt slickening further, allowing him to thrust deeper to his knuckles. His arm on your waist moves, but only to frame his fingers around your neck, turning your head for you to face him and capture your lips to pull you into a heated kiss. 

He swallows your moans, devouring every sound you make and your stomach quakes, making you pull away from his lips when you let out a silent scream as pleasure crashes over you, your eyes blowing wide and gasping heavily when you shudder at your release, coating his fingers with your essence. 

Deep chuckles emit from him and you tremble when he slips his digits from your cunt, your walls clenching on nothing and your mind protesting against the longing of your body. You pant heavily against his chest, daring to peek up at him when you hear him produce such lewd sounds and watch him slip his fingers into his lips,  licking them clean. 

“Such a sweet nectar from the sweetest flower.” He drones and you whimper when he gives your lips one last kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue before staggering forward when he pushes you off of him, holding onto the small table to keep yourself from falling to the ground

You hear him shuffle behind you, sounds of clasps being undone, and you startle when he grabs your arm, pulling you to stand before nudging you towards the bedchamber. 

“On the bed, petal.” He instructs, “I’ve given you pleasure, and it’s your turn to return the favor.”

I no longer keep a tag list but if you want to be kept updated on my fics, follow my side blog @springdandelixn-archives and turn on notifications.

Also, I just want to thank @darkficsyouneveraskedfor and @navybrat817 for hosting this event. It was truly such a joy to write with the themes you've set and I've met such amazing and talented people along the way.

[springdandelixn]

Iain Glen Creative Challenge: Collection #1

Pasco Trevelyn [Fan Art] by @regresso-com-agonia

Bookworms by @silverstone12345​

Next deadline will be on December 31st.

To join the challenge, refer to the mechanics here.

[walkofpenance]

Game of Thrones | Major Character Ranking [21/43]  ⇒ Ser Jorah Mormont

“He broke the law, betrayed his family, fled our land. We commit murder on the word of this man?” - Eddard Stark

[mann-walter]

The Relationship Between the Fielding Brothers in City of Vice (2008)

I absolutely adore this show and it is the first show I've re-watched in full. It's nothing fancy, especially compared to other much better-funded period dramas, and it's... short with only five episodes total, but that doesn't mean it has nothing great to offer.

One of those great things I believe made me re-watch it in full is the relationships between characters, most importantly the relationship between the protagonist, Henry Fielding, and his brother, John.

Henry and John are somewhat of opposites, but I geuess that's what makes them work perfectly as a pair. Henry is, the show's darker tone considered, the classic good guy: a sentimental and optimistic idealist wanting to make the world - at least London - a better place. He seldom compromises with his ideals, but his sensitive nature makes him quite compassionate.

John, on the other hand, has a realistic and practical outlook. That doesn't make him heartless, but when he sees necessity, he won't be too bothered by unorthodox methods.

Look at these short descriptions and you can probably already tell that their dynamic is full of balancing out and tempering. Henry can be very emotional, his feelings do have a certain grip on his perception of reality (or rather, make him mentally reject what he knows as true). John, who is colder and isn't reluctant to take reality in whatever it is, will be the one making Henry accept it and work based on "what is".

But John is not perfect; he can be downright cruel and bitter untempered. Remember that he is willing to thread dangerous even unethical paths to get the job done, couple that with his dark emotions, and you'll get a man plucking somebody's eye out.

PS: His performance as John Fielding made me think Iain Glen could be a great Batman, doesn't help that I was just sitting down at home after watching The Batman when I stumbled upon this show; he does not kill nor does he like to torture unnecessarily, and he meant well, but he has enough of that cold approach to things and a mental jar-full of dark thoughts.

P.P.S: He DID play an older Bruce Wayne in Titans.

[notmoreflippingelves]

Why is it that my rare pair tendencies are not limited strictly to my hyperfixations of the moment but in like 99% of media that I consume? It's not fair. I just get a tiny little urge for like a day to read a fic or see an art for a specific pairing before returning to my main interest. Only to find that particular pairing that my stewpid brain had convinced itself "must be huge in this fandom because how could it NOT BE?" barely exists--if it even exists at all and I have clowned on myself yet again.

[west1rosi]

finally started iconing my bear :)

[atopvisenyashill]

Worst things GOT did casting wise:

- making Dany too beautiful (+ styling her in a way that she never has a hair out of place, always wears BLUE - which makes her look peaceful and soft and angelic, not making her burn her hair off etc). I just think of that one official art piece that's in the illustrated AGOT book where dany is bald, with the dragons and sparks and frames around her and its so striking instead of the "beautiful angelic blonde women stand empowered with her tits out" scene we got

- casting Iain Glen as Jorah and not like. a random Lannister (like. Come on. He is a burly and ugly man... why are you casting one of the most beautiful men to play him.... this is how we ended up with dany/jorah shippers)

-making Joffrey too unattractive (this is not meant to disparage JG who is a great actor and seems like a really cool dude and i'm not saying he's ugly but I think from his very first scene Joffrey looks very punchable and it would have been so much smarter to make the audience .. relate to Sansa's infatuation with his golden looks. In my head (and in all the official art) Joffrey looks like a male version of cersei/a younger version of Jaime.)

- making Dany, Jon, Robb, Marg, Brienne etc 10+ years older than Sansa and the younger starklings .... It's not "the main characters and arya (who is so cool and can kill people) + the little children" it's ONE AGE group of equally important characters

Like I know people are upset at Ned/Jon etc being too attractive, WHICH I GET, but I feel like those were very vibe based casting decisions and i'm ultimately fine with that (I also think it's easier for the audience to root for someone if they're attractive so like. I guess they had to do it) but these other things resulated in people's perception of the characters being so wildly different from what they're supposed to be. The real reason people get so angry whenever someone says they wish tamzin had stayed is because they don't like the idea of daenerys not being this ethereal beauty (TM is beautiful but not in a conventional way) that they can fully root for without issue.

1. NO YOU ARE SOOOOOO RIGHT ABOUT THEM REFUSING TO LET DANY LOOK UGLY. it’s not to say tamzin isn’t clearly beautiful, but i think she’s beautiful in the same way gwendoline christie is, which is that she’s very striking and she has a strong presence but she’s not exactly what people picture when they say “typical hot lady” (which is Crazy these are all able bodied white women, like the definition of “beauty” is soooooo fuckijg narrow that tamzin merchant is ~atypically beautiful) vs emilia definitely is, and YES like everything from not burning her hair off to emilia being,,,,,fuller in figure than dany as a fourteen year old would be is just very clear that they saw dany different than the way she is On The Page. i mean i know people whack george for saying that she’s like a sexy funny lady or whatever but george never lets go of the fact that she’s incredibly young whereas d&d completely miss that part of her character.

i will say i Get the criticism of tamzin perhaps not picking up on the conlangs easily because one thing you can say for emilia is that she had a decent head for the conlangs, she’s even still partially fluent in dothraki lmaooo. but all the other stuff they said about why they recast dany it’s like. hmmmmmmmmmm.

2. absolutely right about iain especially because he’s similar to idk paddy in that he’s got CHARISMA but unlike viserys, they didn’t intent to portray him as a deeply flawed, antagonistic character they went in portraying him as like an objectively Good Guy dedicated to dany. he’s just so much less creepy and pushy in the show and has several scenes where he shows some moral backbone - that “yet here you stand” “yet here i stand” scene is sooooooo good for example, the fact that he actually apologizes for spying on dany, giving him the greyscale story & not having him fuck a valyrian looking woman in a brothel 💀, etc etc - and you also just lose some of the creepiness here because emilia is clearly a grown if young woman and ian is handsome, so it’s like. welll of Course you want to root for them to be together! and never mind that this is a Massive departure from their book characterizations!! again, they have this idea of jorah in their head that doesn’t match up with what’s on the page even a little.

3. i do get your point re: joffrey and i think this is my problem with aidan as littlefucker too - they’re too obviously villains and it makes ned and sansa look stupid. like, in the books we have that moment where robb almost decks joffrey which does seem to signal something bad but the crown prince being full of himself doesn’t mean he’s going to threaten his betrothed’s sister with a sword then get his ass handed to him by a toddler. in the show we get QUITE a number of scenes where joffrey is shown to be a brat AND as you say, just like aidan, jack has a Certain Look, he looks like a shitty jock who has allegations against him ajsjdj like irl when jack smiles he’s so adorable!! but in the show they REALLY play up his ability to channel a greasy aura ya know aksjd. when the point of asoiaf is often that villains don’t LOOK like villains, but some of our Main Villains clearly resemble typical villains in the show.

4. “it’s ONE age group of characters” NO YOU ARE SO RIGHT. like, there’s several years difference from robert to ned to cat to the twins to tyrion but they’re all the same generation of characters. there’s that exact same age difference from brienne to robb, dany, jon to sansa, arya, bran, with theon kind of similar to characters like jorah, who are old enough to remember The Before Times but aren’t quite in either generation. but because they wanted dany, brienne, jon, robb, and margaery to be more of a Typical archetype rather than an exploration of that archetype, they aged everyone up and essentially invented another generation between the “adult” characters and the “kid” characters. not to be super nerdy here but one of my favorite worked shoots in wrestling is one cody rhodes did where he was ranting about the way young wrestlers get put through the grinder and he has this amazing line where he sums it up as “old men talking, young men dying” and it’s not to say there aren’t a lot of old dudes Also dying lmao but you really see this where young leaders are often unprepared for their responsibilities and used as puppets by older men and you just MISS THAT when that whole generation is so grown!

it’s like they looked at those themes of war being terrible and all consuming and brutal no matter how justified you feel you are and went “wow war is brutal 😍” LIKE PLEASE????

[medievalandfantasymelee]

THE HOT MEDIEVAL & FANTASY MEN MELEE

QUALIFYING ROUND: 67th Tilt

Count Rugen, The Princess Bride (1987) VS. Prince Hamlet, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead (1990)

Propaganda

Count Rugen, The Princess Bride (1987) Portrayed by: Christopher Guest

“The Six Fingered Man! He is the most dignified and polite torturer. He kills peoples with the tone of a man ordering dinner at a fancy restaurant. Just 'Please, Thank you, here's a generous tip, sorry about the mess from killing the person at the next table, that was very rude of them' sort of vibes. He also looks very good bloody and begging for his life.”

Prince Hamlet, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead (1990) Portrayed by: Iain Glen

“He's only a supporting character in this movie, but Iain Glen's Hamlet is memorably hot and fully compelling enough to hold his own as a lead - as evidenced by the fact that Glen did in fact play Hamlet again at the Old Vic the very next year.”

Additional Propaganda Under the Cut

Additional Propaganda

For Count Rugen:

For Hamlet:

[sotwk]

I was wondering who are your fancasts for your headcanon world?

<33

Hiiii Quickie! @quickslvxrr

Am I right in guessing that your question was prompted by my reblog of your reblog of Charlie Hunnam's gif set? XD

Because if so, I will just say that I am very excited to have selected Charlie as my fancast for Théodred of Rohan! (Excited because I hope to start writing chapters of my Eomer x OC fic soon, which actually co-stars dear Théodred.)

I have a growing fancast list for the SotWK AU! I still need to get around to making an official and complete list, but since you seem curious, here is majority of what I have so far.

Apart from Reader Insert stories I write in response to requests, all fics and characters I create are grounded in the SotWK AU, so these characters exist consistently across and crossover between my stories.

SotWK AU Fancast List (a work in progress)

The Royal Family of the Woodland Realm

Elvenking Thranduil - Lee Pace

Elvenqueen Maereth - Jennifer Connelly

Crown Prince Mirion - Henry Cavill

Prince Turhir - Sam Heughan

Prince Arvellas - Rupert Friend 

Prince Gelir - Sam Claflin

Prince Legolas - Orlando Bloom

Crown Princess Itarildë  - Teresa Palmer

(later Crown) Prince Aranion - Bradley James

Princess Anariel- Gabriella Wilde 

Elvenking Oropher - Jason Isaacs

Greenwood Elves

Darthol (Gelir's birth-mate) - Dan Stevens

Olondir (cousin of the Thranduilions) - Jake Gyllenhaal

Rivendell Elves

Elrond - Hugo Weaving

Celebrían - Connie Nielsen 

Nimeithel (oc cousin of Celebrían & mother of Itarildë) - Rebecca Ferguson

Elladan - Richard Madden

Elrohir - Sebastian Stan

Silmarillion / First Age Ancestors

Glorfindel - ???? -still searching!-

Elemírë (oc wife of Glorfindel & sister of Elenwë) - Vanessa Kirby

Maglor/Kanafinwë - Ben Barnes

Velcálë (oc wife of Maglor) - Zendaya Coleman

Círdan the Shipwright - Iain Glen

Eäriel (oc wife of Círdan) - Olivia Hussey

Eärondir (oc son of Círdan & father of Maereth) - Alexander Skarsgard  

Laurinwen (oc mother of Maereth) - Lily Collins

Dwarves / Line of Durin

Durin III, King of Khazad-dûm- Hugh Jackman 

Frerin, son of Thrain - Gerard Butler

Gondorians

Aerdis (oc love interest of Boromir) - Freida Pinto 

Anarlas (brother of Aerdis) - Oscar Isaac

Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth - Eric Bana

Ivriniel - Isabella Rossellini

Finduilas - Monica Bellucci

Erchirion - Adam Driver

Lothíriel - Gal Gadot

Rohirrim

Théodred - Charlie Hunnam

Signyr (oc shield-maiden & Éomer's love interest) - Katheryn Winnick

Léodor (oc in Éomer's Éored) - Chris Hemsworth

Héothain (oc in Éomer's Éored) - Will Poulter

Haradrim

to be revealed OC - Pedro Pascal

YUP. I almost didn't want to insert that little spoiler of my upcoming fic, but I'm just too excited about fancasting the widely adored Pedro Pascal in my AU. It will be one heck of a character, too! I am SO VERY excited to create Harad OCs (Pedro's will be the main one)!

Thank you for the Ask! Although this list is still messy and incomplete, answering it puts me one step closer to getting an official fancast list done! :)

Just tagging people whom I think/hope might be interested in this:

@hobbitwrangler @scyllas-revenge @ass-deep-in-demons @emmanuellececchi @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras @konartiste @hippodameia @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @entishramblings @heilith @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @quillofspirit @stormchaser819 @g-m-kaye @mirra-kan @alwayssevvy @marsharmonicorchestra @laurfilijames @coopsgirl @jane0error @jezzibee @lathalea @cuarthol

Other useful links:

Introduction to SotWK

SotWK HC Masterlist

Fanfiction Masterlist

Fanfiction Request Guidelines

[rebeccalouisaferguson]

Rebecca Ferguson sits across from me before her photo shoot with The Envelope. Her sandy blond hair is loosely tied back and she’s wearing an oversize comfy flannel shirt with dark trousers. Between us, two laptops — a virtual setting — but the accomplished actor makes it feel as though you are in the room with her. The same can be said for Juliette Nichols, the emotionally conflicted character she portrays in the gripping Apple TV+ dystopian drama “Silo,” where civilization has migrated to a massive underground bunker.

“Her vulnerability was the most important moments for me because the strengths of the character are uninteresting — they are already shaped,” she says. “What I found interesting is why she is uncomfortable with people, why is she scared when people are too close.”

Ferguson, who also serves as an executive producer of “Silo,” found her answer in Juliette’s heartbreaking childhood. At 13, she loses her mother and younger brother before running away from her father (Iain Glen) to the down deep of the bunker to apprentice in the mechanical department. “I studied a lot of grief and trauma because she loses her mom at an early age. When we understand this character, she is very lonely,” says the Swedish native. “Her trauma, it’s nearly claustrophobic and weighs you down, which I tried to embody in her when people get too close. It’s like this injection of fear.”

Juliette’s discomfort around others is put in the spotlight when she’s plucked by the powers that be to fill the role of sheriff following the death of the former top officer (David Oyelowo). She accepts, on the condition that she can fix the failing generator down below before something catastrophic occurs. The sequence that unfolds in the third episode, directed by Morten Tyldum, is a master class in edge-of-your-seat drama that culminates in a character-defining moment — one that sees Juliette standing alone in thought after the successful repair. “There is so much layered in that moment. All these juxtapositions of ‘I need to fix this, but if I fix this, it means I will also have to leave my people, and if I hadn’t fixed it everyone could have died.’ And all the trauma she’s gone through, it’s all compartmentalized into a moment of now what?” 

Sheriff Juliette steps in wanting to find the truth behind the death of her boyfriend, George Wilkins, an unsanctioned anthropologist of ancient artifacts — such as a Pez dispenser. “The contrast was so important to find,” Ferguson says of the series showing them in happy times in flashbacks. “For me, it was important to find the quirks and the fear. She is worried about him going on his extravagant journeys because she’s afraid to lose him. There’s this child in her, a vulnerability; her hair is different, her clothes are different, there’s a softness. The dynamics are so real — we practiced them a lot. Those scenes are the moments that defibrillate another feeling where you can slow your heart rate and you can fall in love with two people.”

As Juliette investigates George’s death, labeled a suicide though she suspects otherwise, she begins to uncover bigger mysteries within the silo and its leadership. “What I love about this show is that the audience is figuring it out with the character,” Ferguson says. “There are secrets and astronomical complexities in this world, but you’re getting to unravel them one-on-one with a character who is trying to solve one murder that leads into bigger questions and bigger lies. That’s what’s so exciting.”

When the pressure of the new uniform begins to mount, Juliette contemplates returning home to the depths of mechanical. But longtime friend Walker (Harriet Walter) persuades her otherwise, saying, “Love had you doing the right thing and now anger is making you give up.” Ferguson remembers first reading the scene and thinking it was too sentimental. “Something can read differently on the page, but then we sat down and someone said this is one of the most pivotal, most important moments for Juliette’s journey. It’s the change in realizing this is not a story just for her selfish needs. This is a moment where it’s about the bigger picture. It’s about doing the right thing. It’s really a beautiful and powerful moment for her.”

When asked if she thought of Juliette as a savior, Ferguson demurs, saying, “I don’t think I was supposed to look at her that way. It would have made her a hero in her journey and that’s not interesting. She doesn’t start off as a hero. She’s powerful and a bit of a badass, but she has vulnerabilities, grief and fear. That’s what’s interesting. Juliette is constantly faced with hinders, and every time she solves something, another hinder, it’s like building a bridge and it falls and you have to build another one and another one. She doesn’t give up.”

[shadeysprings]

Steep Price

— Jorah Mormont x F!Reader

Summary: The night you pick your boyfriend up from work is the night when your entire life comes crashing down. 

Warnings: noncon, fingers at play, physical violence, public smut, character death & kidnapping. There may be more but do take caution as this is a dark fic.

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's Week One: I Spy Challenge. The word I chose to incorporate here is diamond necklace with the theme of addiction and setting of mafia. It has been a while since I wrote Dark Jorah so here we are. Also, a big shout out to @sgt-seabass for giving me the idea of the fic as well as allowing me to incorporate her work, Clockwork, into this fic (kindly check that out) and also to my beta, @mochie85. You both are rockstars!

Your feedback is highly appreciated and encouraged. Reblogs would be really amazing. Enjoy! ❤️

The chime of the bell is music to your ears as it resounds through the air upon opening the doors of the quaint bookshop. Your nose, kissed by the scent of the pages, wrapping you in a cocoon of comfort and warmth, a huge contrast to the cold rain that continues to fall down from the evening sky.

The place is empty, after giving it a quick observation while folding your umbrella close and stowing it in the stand. You hear your name being called from further in the front room, a smile forming on your lips as you make your way to the counter, seeing your boyfriend, Doug, place down a box of books on the ground and stalk over to you. 

His lips immediately find yours, your arms wrapping around his neck. Dark, blond locks fall over his forehead when he pulls away only to nuzzle his nose against yours in greeting. 

“You’re here early.” He says against your lips and you let out a giggle as he showers your face with a few butterfly kisses, his fuzzy beard tickling your cheeks. “I won’t be off for another thirty minutes.”

“I know.” You mumble, your hands sliding down to press against his firm chest, the cotton of his navy shirt smooth to the touch. “And you know I don’t mind waiting. The books are very much pleasant company.” He smiles at your words and you notice how his eyes move down to your neck. 

“You’re wearing it.” He breathes, his hand reaching up to caress the small diamond pendant that hangs by a silver chain, his birthday present to you. 

“Of course, I am.” You wrap your fingers around his wrist while his thumb caresses the crystal surface. “I’d wear everything you give me.” The slight slant on his lips is enough for you to know what he’s thinking, that of the 3 years you’ve been together, the necklace was the first gift he’s ever given you. 

You’ve told him you didn’t need extravagant things, that his love was enough to sustain the emotional connection you have together. But he was insistent, promising the year before he gave you the diamond necklace that he would make it up to you. And knowing Doug, he is nothing but persistent in whatever he puts his mind to—a trait you deeply appreciate. 

“Douglas—” He blinks when you call his attention, curious, blue eyes meeting yours. “Speaking of books, did it arrive today?” You beam. 

“Oh!” It’s as if your question snaps him out of a trance, the smile returning to his face. He takes your hand and leads you to the back of the counter with excitement. “Good thing you reminded me.” He hums as he opens the door of the stock room.

You feel giddy as your feet follow him willingly, each step filled with anticipation as he leads you further inside. A multitude of boxes greet you, each one stacked neatly against the wall and into shelves, the titles of the novels hidden within painted on the sides. And it’s when he stops that you recognize the words staring back at you, your hand moving on its own accord to run against the cardboard surface���Clockwork.

“They came in this morning and are scheduled to be sold tomorrow.” He says as he grabs a box cutter from his back pocket and cuts open the lid. He takes a book from inside before carefully sliding it between your palms.

Your eyes glisten as you stare down at the cover, the silver pocket watch sitting proudly above the black background and you can’t help but run your fingers against the embossed image. You turn the cover open and read the brief summary, fingertips tingling with exhilaration as you’re tempted to flip a page and begin reading the first chapter. 

But you hesitate, as much as you want to indulge yourself in the novel, you wouldn’t want to ruin a brand new copy and eventually not have it sold to potential customers. 

“Why aren’t you reading? Don’t you like it?” Doug asks, and you look up at him, seeing the curiosity swimming in his eyes. 

“I do—it’s just, I don’t want to ruin the book.” You pout and place the copy back in the box only for him to take it out again. 

“I can keep this copy and buy it later at a discount.” He volunteers, pressing the hardbound back into your hands before closing up the box. “But you’ll have to wait after two weeks. I get my paycheck then.”

“I appreciate the gesture, babe, but you know we can’t.” 

You and Doug have been planning on buying a house since last year and have decided to save every penny you earned towards that goal. The necklace was indeed a surprise—a bookshop associate isn’t paid much to afford such things—but he promised that it didn’t cost him more than what he could afford. 

Still, you decided that it would be the last of the luxury you both spent on, and a book this big in the market, as tempting as it is, isn’t worth losing an opportunity to set aside for something much bigger in the future.

“I could probably download an ebook by the end of the month.” You say with a smile, an attempt to comfort him. “I’m not in a hurry to grab a copy.” 

“Knowing you and your love for these novels?” He scoffs, the sound more teasing than insulting. “Or what about I keep the copy and you come over an hour before closing so you can read it?” He offers, a wide grin chiseled on his face. “That way, even if you don’t have a copy, you’re still keeping up with the story.”

“You think Lorraine won’t mind?”

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” He chuckles, taking your arms and folding them over the book, the hardcover pressing against your chest. “Go on. Settle in a corner and read it. You’ll probably get to chapter three before I finish closing up.” 

“But—”

“Go on.” He urges with a laugh, ushering you out of the stock room before closing the door behind him. “I’ll meet you at your table when I’m done, okay? And you can tell me how much you like the book after.” It’s all he says before pressing a kiss on the top of your head and leaving you by the counter to resume his task. 

You stare at the book in your arms, smiling as you admire the cover once more. He does have a point. If you can’t have a copy yet, what’s wrong with reading one in the store? It’s not like you’re stealing it. No harm, no foul.

The excitement returns in full force and you immediately scurry to your favorite table in the shop, your breathing heavy as you take a seat and settle the novel atop the wooden surface. Taking a deep breath, you flip the book to the first chapter and begin reading the text; your mind immediately building the scene, slipping your feet in the shoes of the protagonist, and imagining yourself walking down a pathway with the summer sun beating down on your neck.

You feel your heart race as each scene shapes the story, the first several pages leaving you breathless and wanting, a slave to the author and her captivating words. 

The chime of the bell briefly takes your attention but you’re immediately sucked back into the world at the edge of your fingertips. Your blood is filled with adrenaline as the story reaches a peak you didn’t expect, digesting each paragraph, the anticipation of what’s to come next washing over you in a huge wave each time you turn the page. 

A loud groan then echoes from the back of the shop and you stop mid-read, a sudden sense of trepidation crawling up your spine. You think it was just Doug running the cart to return the books to their proper place but something tells you it's so much more that you close the book with a snap and stand from your seat, slowly walking to where you heard the sound to check on it.

“Babe? You okay back there?” You call, peeking from the shelves. The lack of response renders you nervous for it’s unusual for him not to ease your worry. “Doug?” You try again, your steps slow and measured as you peer at another aisle then another yet seeing him gone. 

You make your way to the reading nook, the place volunteers would read to the children on Wednesdays, expecting to see him tidying up the space. And you do see him, seated in one of the smaller chairs, a sigh of relief escaping your lips before deciding to make your way towards him. 

But your feet falter and a silent gasp leaves your lips when a fist meets his face, knocking him to the ground. Your eyes widen in shock when he lays on his side, coughing violently, blood sputtering out of his mouth and staining the floor.

“Where are my diamonds, thief?” A gruff voice echoes through the open space, the face of the stranger blocked by the shelves. 

“I already told you—” Doug groans as he tries to push himself off the floor. “I don’t have—”

But a foot lands on his abdomen, kicking him harshly onto his back before he can even finish talking. You see the man draws near him, a black button-up hidden underneath a black coat. His ginger, blond curls are messy from the effort he’s exerted to hurting the man you love. 

He lands another kick then another and you grit your teeth in anger as the sound of Doug’s pained groans fills your ears. 

The grip on the book tightens and you take a deep breath before shouting loudly for him to stop, barreling toward your boyfriend’s assailant with the hardbound raised over your head with the intention of sending back a harsh blow. But someone catches you by the waist, pinning your arms to your sides which makes you drop the book at your feet.

“Leave him alone!” You yell as you thrash against the solid wall of chest behind you, kicking your legs violently and squirming to be released. “Let me go, you bastard! What the fuck do you want from us?!” You don’t relent, groaning as you try to escape but pain soon radiates at your sides when your captor tightens their grip around you. “Who are they, Doug?! What do they want?!”

You stop moving when you see the man clad in a black suit staring at you then at your boyfriend before picking the novel from the ground. His fingers kiss the tip of his tongue as he begins flipping through the pages with a curious hum.

“Who is she, Douglas?” He asks without looking up.

“She—she’s no one.” Doug coughs, his arm wiping the blood dripping from his lips as he struggles to get up.

The ginger-blond stranger waves his hand in nonchalance when suddenly, another stands behind Doug, grabbing him by his arm to pull him up on his knees. Fear immediately runs up your spin when you hear the click of a gun, Doug stays still on the ground as the barrel of the weapon his pressed to the back of his head. 

“I will try again.” The man says as he licks his fingers once more, flipping another page. “Who is she and what is she doing here?” He intones, the tension in the air thickening. “She can’t possibly be a customer. Your store has been closed for some time now.” The sound of the book snapping shut makes your heart jump, swallowing thickly as you raise your chin when the edge is pressed high against your neck.

“I said she’s no one.” Doug snarls, his mouth painted crimson as he turns to face you. “Just let her go, Mormont. She has nothing to do with this.”

The man—Mormont—seems to consider his words.

“Well, if she’s no one, you wouldn’t mind if we shut her up then,” Mormont says with a wicked grin and nodding in your direction. Out of the blue, you feel cold metal press on your temple, whimpering as tears begin rolling down your face. “We wouldn’t want any witnesses to our little exchange, now  do we, Douglas?”

“Jorah,” Someone calls and Mormont turns to look over his shoulder. “The necklace. On the girl.”

Mormont’s eyes snap back to you, dark oceanic orbs meeting yours that slowly run down to the base of your neck. Your throat bobs when you feel his rough fingers brush against your skin, his eyes narrowing then widening as if recognizing the jewel that sits at the base of your neck. The book that holds your chin up is soon replaced by his hand.

“I’m guessing you like mafia novels, huh, sweetheart?” Still staring at the necklace, he holds up the novel for you to see, the cover staring back at you. But you keep your mouth shut, too afraid to even utter a sound. “Well, you’re in one right now and I’m sure you’re fairly familiar with how things like these go, am I right?” His eyes find yours, seeing malice laced into his irises. The gun at your temple is removed and he gives the book to the man that’s held you captive. 

Slowly, he circles you like a predator would its prey, your chest heaving and your back going rigid when you sense him stop behind you. His hand finds purchase around your neck, your chin moving upward upon instinct. He tightens his hold and you wince, your hand reaching up to take hold of his wrist. 

“I ask you a question and you answer. Am I understood?” He whispers, feeling crowded as he bends over you, his other hand resting tauntingly against your hip. “Now, be a good girl and tell me where you got the necklace, darling.” 

You don’t respond, your eyes drifting to Doug as you try to seek him for answers. Who are they? What do they want? Questions lingering in your head. But his face gives nothing away, fingers flexing against his thighs and curling into fists as he watches the display before him. 

Mormont tuts at your silence, crying in silence as his hand moves to the front of your jeans, his fingers tapping along the button and the fly, threatening to slide past the barrier. 

“Staying quiet won’t do you any good, darling.” He groans against your ear, his beard prickling your skin when he presses his face against your temple. “Now, I’ll ask again.” His hot breath scalds your cheek and you cry out when he suddenly slips his hand through your pants and panties, rough fingers pushing down further to cup your sex. You grit your teeth and grab tight on his wrist, trying to pull his hand out when he presses his thumb against your clit. “Where did you get the necklace?”  

You open your mouth to speak, to give him the answer he seeks for him to stop. But no words come out, only a silent scream when he slips a digit past your folds, his foot pushing yours aside to spread your legs wide. 

“Stop it! Don’t touch her!” Doug shouts from where he kneels and tries to get up. “She knows nothing!” But the man behind him kicks him on the back, causing him to fall once more. 

“I thought she was no one, Douglas?” Mormont mocks as he fucks you with his finger, your chest heaving as your stomach rolls in disgust with the unwanted pleasure that burns within your core. Your pussy clamps down on his digits when he slips another finger, stretching you wide. “Why does she have my diamond, Dougie?” He spits and you gasp sharply when he adds a third, your back arching against his solid chest as his thumb presses roughly against your clit, his hand twisting in your pants, turning in a new angle to fuck you faster with his fingers. 

Your breathing grows heavy and you feel the room closing in on you as your toes curl from his touch. You cry in desperation, vision blurry as you turn into a babbling mess, begging for him to stop. But he’s impervious to your pleas, your spine tingling and your face heating with shame as your cunt slickens with every thrust.

“S-stop—” You whimper, both hands grabbing on his wrist as you once more try to pull free from his cruelty. “P-please—I’ll talk! I’ll—” The words come out garbled, clogging your throat as moans rush out from your lips.

“I gave it to her!” Doug shouts and Mormont’s hand stills from your cunt, the arousal slipping from your blood. “Please—just stop.” He sobs while walking towards you on his knees. “I stole the diamonds, Jorah. I stole them and gave her a piece as a present.” The confession that drips from his lips is a stab to your heart, that he’s crossed such dangerous men and all for a piece of rock.  

Mormont’s silence is deadly and you feel his chest rumble against your back as he lets out a deep breath. Then all at once, his hold on your neck tightens and you shout in terror when his fingers begin to move once again, choking as he digs his fingers into your throat, the flame deep in your belly flickering back to life. 

“You take my things, I’ll take yours!” He snarls and two men grab hold of Doug’s arms when he lunges at you, holding him back as he struggles to set himself free. 

Your body shakes as his fingers continue to pull you closer to the edge. 

“No! You bastard!” Doug shouts but Mormont simply laughs, the sinister sound blaring in your eyes. 

“Look at him, darling. Look at that pathetic excuse of a man.” He commands yet you defy him, closing your eyes as you refuse to face your boyfriend in humiliation. But his grip on your neck tightens further and you open your eyes, Mormont’s hand framing your jaw as he forces you to look Doug in the eyes. “Look at him! I want him to see you come because of me. I want him to bare witness to what his stupidity has led you into.”

Tears flow once more from your eyes as you face him. His eyes are full of anger yet his face sullen in defeat as he’s left helpless to defend you. Your eyes then shut tight as your spine curves and your head rests against Mormont’s shoulder, your fingers digging hard into his sleeve when your body shakes, your cunt fluttering around his digits when you come hard on his hand. 

He continues to thrust in you, fingers sliding easily against your sopping walls. A sigh then escapes you when he pulls his hand away, smearing your juices over your abdomen and then slipping them into his mouth. 

“Fuck—you taste like honey.” Mormont growls, your body limp against his, breathing heavy, that you don’t even bother to pull away when he trails kisses from your cheek and down to your clothed shoulder. ���No wonder that loser stole from me. I’d shower diamonds at your feet if I get to fuck such a sweet cunt.” The remark makes your stomach turn in disgust, shame encapsulating you that you allowed this man to toy with you as he pleased. 

“Jorah—” The man from earlier calls. “You had your fun. We have to go.”

Mormont sighs. “Very well.” Your eyes spring open when you hear a loud thud, seeing Doug on the ground once again, holding himself up with his hands and knees. “Kill him.”

“No!” You pull away from Mormont’s hold but he lifts you up in his arms effortlessly, the strength surging back in your veins as you thrash against him. “Doug! Doug!” You cry as you're taken to the doorway of the library. “Please! Don’t kill him! Please—” You sob as you beat against his arm. 

The cold air sears your skin as you’re pushed out of the bookshop, the rain coming down harder than before and lighting painting the sky followed by the crash of thunder. You continue to fight, to retch yourself free from your captors, and go back inside to try and save your love. But Mormont shoves you roughly into the awaiting vehicle, your back hitting the other side as you slide against the leather seat. 

Nonetheless, you waste no time. You jiggle on the handle harshly, trying to pull the lock out of its place, but your fingers stiffen and your head snaps back to the shop when a gunshot rings from the inside, your heart stopping as the door shuts close after Mormont takes his seat, the car driving off into the evening storm. 

I no longer keep a tag list but if you want to be kept updated on my fics, follow my side blog @springdandelixn-archives and turn on notifications.

[anarchotolkienist]

do you think extinct gaelic dialects could possibly be revived (saying nothing of the likelihood of that happening) if enough people were to make an effort in learning/speaking them? sometimes i look at old dialects as a learner and wish somehow they could be brought back

Depends on the dialect and how extinct they are. First of all, people like to speak of some dialects as extinct when they're not yet, they're just very threatened. For example, there is a still a native speaker of Perthshire Gaelic alive - she's 104 but she's still kicking. The same for Easter Ross Gaelic - still has one old woman who's a native speaker, a fisherwife in the village of Brora. Her sister passed away last year, making her the last native speaker, but she's still around. One family has kept up Tayside Gaelic for two generations now, and other speakers could learn to speak the local language from them. Other dialects have semi-speakers, aspects of which could still be picked up though it would not be the complete dialect as gained from a fluent speaker - for example, the son of the last native speaker of Aberdeenshire Gaelic is still alive, and he, while not fluent, is competent in the languge and can recite some poems and rhymes from memory that his mother taught him which will be enough to save some vocabulary and phrases, should someone decide to pick it up.

Then there are dialects who's last native speakers have passed away, but where fluent learners actually did what we're discussing here, and learned the dialect to fluency at those last speakers knees - examples just based on people I know at least somewhat personally would include north Argyle, Dùthaich MhicAoidh, Wester Ross, Glens of Loch Aber and Glen Coe. These dialects, then, also have a lease of life, and could be learned and spoken with now living speakers.

A third category would be dialects which, while extinct, were extensively recorded before their death and which could be picked up with a degree of continuity from those recordings. Isle of Arran, for example (which I know at least Alasdair Paul is doing for his historical novels, who's characters speak with a clear Arrannach flavour), or Badenoch, or Lorne (the last native speaker, Iain MacPhàidein nach maireann, passed away not five months ago), among others. All of these I would say could all be revived and be said to be genuinely the same dialect, even though it will of course change and loose some of it's flavour, and certain sayings or words that just simply were never recorded.

However, there is a last category of dialects that are irreparibly lost, that simply were not recorded in time. Loch Lomondside Gaelic, for example, died out in the early 20th century, and the only extensive collection that happened locally, by Dòmhnall Dewar, was not a linguistic but a folkloric study. The same goes for most of the borderlands and the Southern Highlands, (Cowall, Kintyre, Black Isle, South Argyle, Braemor, and Bredalbane, etc) and generally most districts outwith the crofting region, where the languge (as well as more or less the entirety of the people) disappeared with the clearances, without the lease of life granted by crofting and the crofting act. This goes doubly so for the only dialect of Lowland Gaelic that survived into modern day, in the form of that Gaelic which was spoken in the Glens of Galloway into the 17th century. These dialects are all lost completely. But, as you understand from the earlier list, a surprising number of dialects are still alive and to some extent kicking, and could have a fighting chance if things were to turn out differently. I can give you some tips or contacts if the dialect you yourself is interested in is salvageable, just DM me or send another ask if whatever.

[korra-of-the-watertribe]

Game of Thrones Actors as Characters in The Dance of The Dragons:

Nell Tiger Free and Natalie Dormer as Rhaenyra Targaryen

Emilia Clarke as Alicent Hightower

Harry Lloyd as Daemon Targaryen

Jack Gleeson as Aegon II Targaryen

Lena Headey as Rhaenys Targaryen

Kit Harrington as Criston Cole

Oona Chaplin as Mysaria

Michiel Huisman as Harwin Strong

Iain Glen as Otto Hightower

[residentisaacs]

Iain Glen as various characters // armour // appreciation post

[andreabaideas]

I once saw a YouTube comment that Will Harrison looks like Robert Pattinson and I haven't been able to unsee it since.

Yes, they do look alike!! I would cast them as brothers, cause I truly think Robert Pattinson and Will Harrison do look alike. Also I thought that Josh Whitehouse upper face (high cheeks and eyes) kinda looked like Robert a bit, so yeah...XD And Robert has weird but cute ears, gray bluish greenish eyes and square killing chiseled jaw, just like Sam does...XD

Sam has plenty too btw : Nicholas Hoult, and Ed Skrein come to mind. Older also looks similar to Sam : Kris Holden Ried, Toby Stephens , Tom Cavanagh and Iain Glen.

Chaos , right? ... I like them all...Should i just move to UK? XD

So yeah, lots of lost family. Most Hot people on Hollywood look similar tbh.

You have: Anne Hathaway, Eva Longoria, Sandra Bullock (if you squint hard enough), Dua Lipa and Emily Ratajkowski for Camila Morrone.

Also Kristen Stewart, Drew Barrymore, Teresa Palmer, Elizabeth Gillies, Elaine Hendrix and Young redhead (pre botox) Nicole Kidman ( like she was in Practical Magic) and Meriem Uzerli look like Riley Keough. My cousin says Stef Dawson and Riley Keough look alike , she mixes them. I think they could pass as sisters tbh. Some say Jena Malone too (but Ive seen a movie with both of them together as a romantic couple, and I dont see It XD. However , I do see Jena and Kristen though).

Gavin Drea looks like a mix between Richard Armitage and Peter Facinelli. He IS that Hot (so sad his Djats character sucked)

And Suki IS a prettier hotter mix between Anna Paquin and Billie Piper. Period.

Conclusion: Will and Sam in Djats did look like brothers to me , so... Rob and Sam could play brothers too.

My family template or lookalikes are chaotic , but like...fitting XD

Youll see now. I'll post It!

[4getfulimaginator2022]

I just wanted to say I’m absolutely here for the Doug kick you’ve been on! Underrated IG character it’s nice to see him getting some attention

Hello lovely anon! 🥰 Small Engine Repair is a hidden gem of a film, with memorable characters and of course, Iain Glen as Doug. Loved his performance so, so much. Doug's sweet, caring, endearing, a good friend - and a badass when it matters. 😎 And he plays the guitar and sings beautifully!!!!!! Definitely underrated. The more Doug appreciation, the merrier, I say! So happy to meet a fellow fan. 💗 I just snapped up all the Tumblr content for Doug that I could find and added it to my queue!