#the temple shakespeare

[the-full-shakespearience]

He was not of an age, but for all time

Sometimes that famous quote by Ben Johnson about Shakespeare feels more real to me. Shakespeare's work has been hugely popular for over 400 years, and it connects us not just to his time but to all the time in between.

This is a page from from my copy of Macbeth from The Temple Shakespeare. The Temple Shakespeare was a collection of Shakespeare's plays published individually. These little red volumes were published prolifically from 1894 - 1930 (The New Temple Shakespeare was published from 1934 - 1956). They're fairly common in vintage bookstores throughout the English-speaking world. My copy of Macbeth was published in 1896.

One of the previous owners (perhaps the original owner) left their name inside the cover:

It looks to me like the name is Z. R. Stuber (though it could also be E. R. Stuber). There is also a little ticket listing the bookseller, Gilbert and Field at 67 Moorsgate Street, London E.C. The only information I can find about the bookseller is a reference from the Royal Academy of Art. They have a listing for Don Quixote of the Mancha by Edward Abbott Parry that also had a ticket in the front cover for the same bookseller, which they describe only as a book seller in London during the 1890s.

The area of the city that housed this bookshop was heavily bombed during the Second World War, which lead to the widening of London Wall just west of here. Most of the buildings around this address are obviously modern, though this building is either older or was built/restored in an older style.

This is 67 Moorgate today, a store selling designer greeting cards and stationary:

This book went on its own journey for more than 120 years before I acquired it, being bought and sold an unknown number of times before getting here. It is a century older than I am. The people who first printed, sold, and bought it are gone. The store that sold it is gone. The street it was sold on is unrecognizable. The company that published it was bought by another company that was in turn bought, like a matryoshka doll of corporations.

The story inside was already ancient when this was published, and now the world in which it was created is as inaccessible as the Elizabethan Era.

And yet something has endured.

Knowing that other people have shared in these stories with us makes them real like almost nothing else can. Charles I retitled his copy of Much Ado About Nothing. Sylvia Plath annotated her Hamlet. Z. R. Stuber left their name in Macbeth.

This is my copy of Macbeth now, but for how long? Will it outlive me? Will its fragile pages fall apart before I do? Or maybe I'll leave my name in the cover so that one day someone else can try to decipher my handwriting and know that we read the same lines.

[nocnitsa]

Tales from Shakespeare : Lamb, Charles, 1775-1834

[catkingapologist]

i didn’t come to terms with being gay and shit from watching dr who and seeing capn jack just for people to be asses and say that its too woke

[million-fandom-eve]

Incorrect Quote

Lavinia, holding a python: Guys, I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him? Beanie: You did WHAT- kitty: William Snakespeare

[temptresstitania]

i think someone flirting with me in Elizabethan English would get me off tbh

[allthingskenobi]

This is honestly a beautiful love letter to the prequels AND Revenge of the Sith, and I encourage everyone to read it.

Some of the highlights for us:

In recent years, the slaughter of younglings and the ultimate efficacy of Order 66 may have become dank meme fodder to be filed alongside the droid attack on the Wookies and “Hello There!” But back in ‘05? That montage of Clones massacring Jedi across the galaxy, Anakin igniting his ‘saber at the Jedi temple, was a real watershed moment — a visceral evocation of the horrors of war and the sheer oppressive power of fascism. Thrilling and terrifying in equal measure, “Execute Order 66!” endures as a reminder of a more daring time in franchise filmmaking.

and

Even now, the emotional and technical craftsmanship of the duel is astonishing. Christensen and McGregor’s blistering choreography and the emotional intensity of their performances; thousands of man-hours’ worth of VFX blending large-scale soundstage work and real footage of Mount Etna erupting; Lucas going full Shakespeare with Anakin’s excoriating, “I hate you!”, and Obi-Wan’s anguished, “You were my brother Anakin… I loved you”; John Williams going God-mode once more with his cacophonous score. It’s an epic battle between the forces of good and evil, the culmination of two trilogies and almost thirty years of cinematic storytelling, painted on the largest canvas imaginable. Honestly, what more could you want from a Star War?

[ghost-bison]

Fourteen/Noble-Temple Family Headcanons:

-that one time he lets Rose into the TARDIS, she finds polaroids of his advendures with his companions, and sees the funniest pictures of Ten and Donna acting stupid together

-Rose also sees pics of Rose Tyler and she listens to Fourteen talk about her passionately

-when Rose shows the pics to her mom, Donna gets emotional about seeing Ten's baby face again, and she tells her about their adventures

-Fourteen and Donna fight about the real story behind each picture because Donna tends to exaggerate how mature she was compared to Ten, whereas Fourteen tends to underestimate how careless Ten could be

-Sylvia keeps cooking for Fourteen like a grandmother because "he looks like a stick". He pretends to be annoyed but he secretely likes it when the Noble-Temples pamper him

-thursday night is family game night. He lets everyone win except for Donna and it becomes a competition between them

-Shaun gets him into football and they watch the World Cup together almost religiously, getting crazy in front of the television together

-speaking of: the Noble family know the Olympics is a sacred time of the year for Fourteen and they respect that

-he poses with Rose's creations for her pictures on Etsy

-he often sneaks Wilfred's wheelchair into the TARDIS and takes him to see the stars

-him, Rose and Shaun sit together on the sofa watching Donna and Sylvia get into arguments and taking bets on who's gonna get the last word several times a week

-Fourteen bets on Sylvia everytime out of fear

-he becomes a teacher of quantum physics at Univ and the students absolutely love him

-Donna teases him because she knows he has a crush on that other teacher

-but then she gets into full protective dad mode when he asks the Doctor out on a date

-he takes a membership at a reading club and annoys everybody because he can't sit still for more than five minutes and gets into heated arguments with that one member about Shakespeare facts

-they have barbecues with Martha and Mickey

-and the Doctor apologizes for how he treated them back in the day (but especially Martha)

-eventually, Fourteen contacts Jack again and he joins in for the occasional barbecue. After about five minutes being reunited Jack starts calling Fourteen a DILF (we all know he would)

-Donna, Melanie, Martha and Fourteen go to the spa together from time to time as a girl treat

-Rose gets a cat and the cat is obsessed with Fourteen

-and sometimes it sneaks into the TARDIS and they all spend 30 minutes trying to lure him out with treats

-Fourteen sometimes cooks for the family and his cooking skills are incredible (when he manages not to set anything on fire)

-when he and Donna go to Unit work parties (she takes him there as her plus one but he doesn't really work there) they spend the whole evening stuck together gossiping

-and when people come to them to ask about their adventures they start bullshitting in sync and it's just so hard for them not to laugh when they look at each other

-then during the evening they have their own little dance routine

-the TARDIS is decorated with fairylights, stuffed animals made by Rose, little pillows, garlands and pictures

[brodieland]

.˚ 𓈒 ࣪.𝝑𝝔 super hot tutor !! ´ˎ˗

Leo Valdez x Fem!Reader Synopsis: trying to teach your boyfriend Shakespeare is harder than you thought.. Warning(s): BLURB, swearing and sex jokes, the norm !, Word Count: 292 A/N: got the Inspo bc I myself, am actually reading Macbeth in class rn. used my actually class notes for this and everything

"If he's not happy, then how is he happier than Macbeth?"

"That's why its called a paradox, it contradicts itself," you explained for what felt like the millionth time.

"I just feel like the witches spoke in too much code." You were helping your boyfriend Leo read Shakespeare, and this might've just been impossible. "And what does Lady Macbeth mean when she says to 'unsex' herself?? Is she asking Macbeth to have sex with her on the spot, because for the 1600s that's kinda crazy."

You rubbed your temples as Leo held his arms up thinking he hit the nail on the head. Leo's guesses on whatever it is Shakespeares trying to say always catches you off guard, since, you know, he's almost never right. "She means she's stripping away her feminine weaknesses."

"But I think woman are strong, strong as FUCK actually," Leo declared. "I support woman you know."

"I see that," you sighed as you smiled. "Mr. Leo 'feminist' Valdez is in the building everyone."

You cheered and it seemed Leo didn't pick up on your sarcasm. "Anyways, look here. 'full o' the milk of human kindness,' what does he mean by this?"

"I mean if we go back to the whole unsex thing, I think the so called 'milk' refers to-"

"Stop. Please don't even finish-"

"HA," you sat back and stared at the ceiling trying not to laugh while Leo had his head down as he banged the table from laughter. When you heard him calm down you looked back up to see him wiping a tear from his eye.

"Are you done?"

"Possibly," he smiled, looking straight at you.

"May we continue?"

Leo stood and leaned toward you, quickly kissing you before sitting back down, "We may."

[jesswriteswrongs]

After School Special

Fandom: Shameless USA

Characters: Lip Gallagher x Female Northside!Reader

Summary: Reader and Lip return to her house after school, but Reader’s mom comes home early and has a lot to say

Warnings: body shaming, discussion of food, discussion of exercise, discussion of weight

A/N: Readers mom reads like Emily Gilmore because I’ve been binge watching Gilmore Girls

It was mid-October and you had no idea how Lip survived without a coat, when you were dreading pulling your hand out of your pocket to unlock the door. Once you were both inside the warmth of your house you lead Lip upstairs to your room. “Wanna help me with my literature homework?” You asked him, putting your backpack on the floor and hanging up your coat.

“I do love you in that uniform…” he replied, sitting on your bed. You never thought that the kilt, sweater vest, blazer and saddle shoes were particularly attractive, but Lip always seemed to think so.

“Really?” You asked, straddling his lap.

“Mmm…” He replied, pushing your blazer off your shoulders “Southside bad boy corrupts private school girl? It’s like something from a romance novel.” You let your blazer fall to the floor. “Shall I compare thee to a summers day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do-“ You interrupted Lip’s recitation of Shakespeare by clapping your hand over his mouth, hearing the front door open and close.

“Shit! My mom’s home early.” You whispered.

“Y/N!” Your mom shouted. You put your finger to your lips to signal Lip to be quiet, and climbed off his lap. You headed downstairs to see what she wanted.

“Hi Mom.” You said nonchalantly.

“Y/N! How long have you been home?” She asked, looking you up and down. You squirmed under her gaze.

“Just a few minutes, I was just about to start my homework.” She frowned.

“Hm… well, remember your sister is coming home from Yale this weekend.”

“Yes, Mom.” You replied monotonously.

“How’s your application to Princeton going?”

“I don't need to apply until next year.”

“Yes, darling, but Princeton will look closely at your junior year. Extracurriculars are important.” She placed her handbag on the bureau, paying more attention to the wood grain than to you.

“Mom, I’m already president of the Model United Nations and VP of the astronomical society.”

“Yes, but you’ll need more. Your sister was captain of the swim team, president of the key club, class president and valedictorian.”

“Mom, I’m not Laura.” You sighed, playing with your sleeve cuffs

“Don’t I know it.” Your mother retorted. She looked you up and down once more. “You’re looking fat. I’ll tell Maria to skip the after school snack, you can wait until dinner, and you’ll be taking salad for lunch for the rest of the week. Your father and I pay for the gym, you should use it.”

“Yes, Mom.” You said once more. “Can I go back to my homework now?” Your mother literally looked down her nose at you before she spoke.

“Fine. But I expect you to be exercising after dinner.” You nodded, fisting your hands inside your sleeves and wiling the tears not to fall. You quickly turned and ran back up the stairs, shutting yourself in your bedroom, back against the door, before you let the tears fall. You had completely forgotten Lip was waiting for you in there.

“Y/N?” He asked quietly.

“How much of that did you hear?” Your voice was low and quiet, almost trembling.

“Enough.” Lip replied. He opened his arms. “Everything she said is total bullshit. You’re not anywhere near fat, and you’re going to get into Princeton.” You allowed yourself to be hugged and comforted by Lip, tears falling on to the blue shirt you loved on him. “And if your mom really wants you to get some exercise I can think of an exercise regiment that she’ll hate.” You laughed wetly, before wiping your eyes with your sleeve.

“This is why I prefer your house.” You said quietly.

“What, too loud to think with the police turning up anytime they want?” Lip chuckled. You rested your temple against his shoulder.

“Yeah but it’s family. You may not have much but you love each other, and most of the time you even like each other.” Lip laughed at that. “You’re not competing against each other or trying to outdo each other’s achievements. Everything Laura does I have to be the same or better, whether I want to or not.” Lip seemed to think about that for a moment.

“I guess you’re right.” He said after a moment of silence. “We’re dysfunctional, sure, but I’d do anything for my family. Our achievements are what they are. Shit, I’ll be the first Gallagher to finish high school. Plus, Fiona likes you a lot more than she’s liked my other girlfriends.” You ran your thumb over his shirt collar.

“It’s refreshing. Fiona thinks it’s great when I get a C, Debbie likes when I bring my art homework, it feels safe.” You said quietly.

“Even with Carl running around?” Lip asked

“Even with Carl running around.” You laughed, and kissed him. “I’m totally serious though, my literature homework is due tomorrow.”

“Hmmm, can I be your reward afterwards?” Lip asked.

“Can we go to your house tomorrow?” Lip smiled and nodded. You smiled back and climbed off his lap, grabbing your book and sitting back on his lap.

“What are you doing, Y/N? I thought you were doing homework?” You grinned wickedly at Lip.

“You really want to wait until after?”

[tim-shii]

a/n: save me, preppy!bf danheng. save me, please, preppy!bf danheng. im so normal about him its not funny anymore. i need him. i badly need him in my life rn its actually criminal how hes not beside me reading our silly little books together. also consider this my little belated valentines gift <3

bf!danheng who smells of old books, coffee and vanilla flowers.

bf!danheng who writes you little handwritten notes and slips them into the pockets of your coat or jacket.

bf!danheng whose favorite authors are edgar allan poe, albert camus and fyodor dostoevsky.

bf!danheng who’s such a gentle lover, every word of praise that comes from his lips is nothing but sincere and sickeningly enamored.

“you look beautiful. you are beautiful.”

bf!danheng who’s an honor student and tutors you at the library after class hours.

bf!danheng who lets you borrow his sweaters and crewnecks, sometimes even letting you keep them with the reason being ‘they look better on you’.

bf!danheng who casually hands you an annotated book out of nowhere.

“i finished the book. you were talking about it a week ago.”

bf!danheng who recites to you the most romantic poems as you both lay on the grass, under the starry night.

“she walks in beauty, like the night

of cloudless climes and starry skies;

and all that’s best of dark and bright

meet in her aspect and her eyes;

thus mellowed to that tender light

which heaven to gaudy day denies.”

bf!danheng who reads his book beside you on the couch, arm around your shoulders and head leaning to yours.

bf!danheng who always remembers little details about you, whether you mentioned it in passing or he overheard you telling it to your friends.

bf!danheng who notices everything about you.

“you fiddle with your ring when you’re bored.”

bf!danheng who falls in love with you more and more when you randomly blurt out a quote in the hushed nights you two spend together.

“it is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.”

“that’s shakespeare. you’ve always loved that quote.” he looks over at you, a fond expression gracing his pretty face.

bf!danheng who greets you with a kiss to your temple everytime without fail.

bf!danheng whose heart jumps a little bit faster when you push his glasses up his nose with a pointed finger and your nose scrunched up cutely at him.

bf!danheng who kisses you passionately and slow, taking his time ‘cause he feels like it’s only a matter of time before something inevitably pull you away cruelly from his hold.

bf!danheng who blinks slowly, blush rushing to his ears, when you smile at him and promise him you’ll be with him for evermore.

likes and reblogs are appreciated! masterlist

[just-some-random-blogger]

You're Not Cute

Pedro Pascal x Reader

Summary: i saw a fucking tiktok of pedro reciting shakespeare and i will never forgive him for not letting me lie on his lap while he strokes my hair and recites said shakespeare to me. i thought you were a feminist pedrito?! i trusted you pepe. fuck you (me).

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: gender neutral!reader, actor/actress!reader, reader has hair im sorry if ur bald T_T and whipped for pedro and reading this, established but not public relationship (shhh it'll make sense), pedro go to jail party, crack fic, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: we all know pedro pascal watches his edits, but i wonder if he's ever... read fics of himself 💀💀💀💀 hi papi! if you're reading this first of all why second of all i love you the tiktok in question that has me at gunpoint tumblr. look at this gif. this is your man??? this is OUR man? fuck off. ALSO I HAVENT PROOFREAD THIS COS I GOT CHORES BYE Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @amis-love-bugs @top1bbgloak @sunfairyy @djarinsstuff @mooniesyubi @pedropascalgirly @mmmmandoz

"Wooooweeee!"

My eyes dart from my reflection on the mirror to the grinning man who popped up from behind me. I turn to him just as he begins wiggling his brows. I make a face him as he narrows his eyes and snaps his fingers while trotting over to me, "looking good, mi amor," he rolls his tongue to mimic a purr and gestures like a cat, "RRRRRRRRRRR."

I roll my eyes at him as I chuckle, turning back to my reflection, "hands off Pedro."

He gasps in offence, raising his hands, "I haven't even touched you yet!"

I lean in to more clearly see the dark blue line I was drawing by my eyes, "ok then," I shrug, "sorry for assuming."

Pedro tilts his head and waves his hands, "apology accepted--" he moves forward until he was close enough to snake his arms around me, "--in form of touching you."

I huff at his shenanigans but do not fight him off. In fact, I lean into his back hug and rest my head against him as we both look at our reflections in the mirror. I motion to my face amidst my scrutiny, "is the eyeliner too much?"

"Nope," he kisses my temple then retorts rather seriously, "it's yas slay."

I make a face.

His serious expression only lasts two seconds before he explodes into laughter. I release a huff as I bring my hand to my face while he thoroughly enjoys his own stupidity. I release one airy chuckle before giving myself a final once over, deciding I looked well put together enough. He inhales deeply to catch his breath then sighs against me, "you smell soooo good."

"It's called a shower," I moved to elbow him off, "you should try it sometime."

I grunt as I struggle against him. I hiss when I feel his mouth on me, "PEDRO!"

He pulls back, all after managing to leave a wet bite on my neck.

Pedro recoils and raises his hands in defeat. I punch him on the chest before wiping his mark.

He sighs, "it's kinda hard to shower by yourself, ya know. I need some help. Also!" he points, "you're dirty now, you got a little," he motions to his neck, "dribble on you-"

"PEDRO PLEASE," I pinch my fingers together, "my interview is in like, ten minutes," I point at him and scold, "contain yourself. Stay in your room."

I begin to storm off and he watches, moaning like a baby, "you mean our ro-"

I feel him follow after me. I snap, "STAY IN YOUR ROOM!" halting in my tracks. I push him back as I grab the door knob. He gives me a puppy dog frown. I give him one last point before closing the door behind me on my way out, "stay here."

Alas. I was in the living room, with a laptop set up in front of me as I did my online interview. I was glad that my Pedrito followed my orders and stayed in the bedroom for the entire duration. Not long now before it ends.

I smile to the interviewers as they begin to wrap up our short segment. I, along with he two hosts from a live news channel, laugh at the closing remarks. Suddenly, I find myself looking out to my side when I see an incoming Pedro just about to pass by.

He was stretching as he walked. He looked like he managed a brief power nap.

Oh fucking shit, he's going to the bathroom. And he's going to pass behind me to get there.

"Now, do you want to invite your fans to watch your film?" the male host asks.

"Uhhh," I trial off, as I turn to my side, rather un-inconspicuously. Pedro was soooooooo close now.

I panic as I turn between my camera and my impeding doom, "uhhh."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Aint no way he was about to pass behind me and expose us like this.

THINK! WHAT DO WE DO?!??!

If I say his name, they're going to know it's him, but if I don't they're going to ask who I'm talking to anyway, but if I ignore him, he's going to pass and reveal himself. FUCKKKKK-

And in the split second of panic, I burst out the secret fourth option, and quite possibly the worst one, "FUCK!"

Yeah. Everyone stops.

Cue, my string of panicked apologize, "shit, I'm- fuck, SORRY SORRY SORRY!"

I catch Pedro, just as he realized what he has just done, or what he was about to do, rather.

"Sorry," I cover my hands on my face, "Sorry I-"

The interviewers laugh at me as I recuperate.

I sigh, turning to my side, "it's- there's a ghost that lives in my house."

"Oh, wow, you live in a haunted house?" the female host chuckles, "how thrilling."

"Yeah," I turn back to my camera, "it's quite stressful."

The interviewers chuckle as I regain composure and wave at my camera, "anyway, the ghost in my house says go watch the film with your loved ones, with family, friends, and your house ghosts too. We all worked very hard on the film, and we hope you enjoy it as much as we enjoyed working on it."

"Right!" Pedro agrees off camera, making me tense in my seat. He adds rather weakly as we make quick eye contact, "right."

The male host laughs, "wow, your ghost is really excited about this film."

"The ghost is going to get evicted soon. I'm calling an exorcist." I force a smile.

Finally, we say our goodbyes and I immediately shut my computer before any other fiasco happens.

"Sorry!" Pedro says immediately once he drops to his knees next to me, "I had booger brain. I woke up from a nap."

I look down at his messy hair and remorseful face. He grabs onto my legs and continuously apologizes to me.

I roll my eyes at him and tilt his head up at me as I grab him by his dark hair, "apology with tears."

He pouts, "I'm really, really sorry, baby. My booger brain..."

I release my grip on him and he immediately sits down next to me and pulls me into him. He continuously apologizes and I lean into his touch, beginning to feel bad for how genuinely remorseful he was. Just a little. He's kinda cute when he's pathetic like this.

"Pedro it's fine," I say, turning to him, pecking his lips repeatedly, "nothing happened. The hosts played it off too, which was really nice of them."

I crawl onto his lap and embrace him. He sighs and embraces me back. I nuzzle my face into his neck and murmur, "weren't you going to the bathroom?"

"Hmm? No, I was going to make a sandwich."

I snort, "of course you were."

I pull my head back and we look at each other. Pedro rubs my back. An idea springs into mind. I smile deviously, "I have decided that your apology will be in a form of Shakespeare."

When I shift off him to lie on the sofa and prop my head on his thigh, he looks down at me with furrowed brows. He brings his hands to his chest, "is the genuineness of my remorse not sufficient enough for you?"

"No, Don John," I sigh, "hark to me. From the top. Much Ado About Nothing."

Pedro chuckles airily before gathering my hair and pulling it back so that he could comb through it with his fingers. He sighs, and I turn to him as he scrunches his face, "I don't fucking remember."

"Do the, 'I must be sad when I...' like, feel like it, or some shit."

Pedro throws his head back and laughs. He sucks in a sharp breath, "like," he says with his exaggerated LA accent, "I have to be sad when I feel like I need to be sad."

"Exactly! Do that part," I giggle.

He continues, "I also will totally not smile at your lame jokes," he purses his lips and makes a face.

"Wait, that's what that means?"

Pedro nods at me, "yeah that's what that means."

"I thought that meant, like, I'll cry when I want to and smile when I want to."

"Well," he caresses my cheek, "you're not too far off."

I wave my hands, "ok, ok, now do the rest, and do it properly this time."

He playfully growls at me, "well, it's kinda hard to do Shakespeare when this cute lil thing is distracting me."

"Do better then."

"I'd rather do you."

"Pedro."

"What? You started it!"

I roll my eyes make a zipper motion to my mouth.

Pedro clears his throat. He mumbles some lines to himself to jog his memory, "... sleep when I am drowsy and tend on no man’s business," he states in an exaggerated manner, "laugh when I am merry and claw no man in his humor."

I hold in a laugh as he raises his hands in dramatics.

"And then," Pedro calls, "Conrad says something but I can't remember what he says."

"Pedro!" I whine.

"What?! I can't recite something I forgot, now can I?" he replies, busying himself with brushing my hair again.

I cross my arms, "boomer."

"Yeah, but I'm your boomer," he says pinches my nose. I wrangle against his actions and sequentially sit up.

Before I could retaliate, a phone rings across the room. It takes a second for me to realize it was I that received a phone call. I go ahead and answer upon seeing it was from my manager.

"Hello?"

"What have you done?!"

I pull my head back at her tone, "uh... hello to you too. What do you-"

"Are you aware you have a mirror behind your sofa?" she says.

I make a face. What does that-

I freeze, expression dropping as I turn to Pedro and slowly then to the mirror behind my sofa. There's a mirror behind my sofa. I have a fucking mirror behind my sofa.

My manager hums at my silence, "so, you want to make a statement with the ghost in your house before people catch on, or-"

I sigh as my manager begins to run down the possible things we could do. Pedro looks at me in concern as I wipe my face in frustration.

"Yeah, okay, okay. Let me call back in a minute. Bye."

Once I hang up, Pedro shifts on his spot and raises his brows at me.

I purse my lips, "they could see you in the mirror, Pedro."

He knits his brows, "see me in the mirror?"

I raise my brows at him.

He tries to piece it together, "see me in the... OH."

"Yeah, oh. My manager already spoke to yours, and they want to know what we want to do before people start making memes about your ugly face in my fucking mirror."

Pedro gives a guilty look. He throws his arm on the backrest and drops his head on his shoulder, "I... could change my name on Instagram to 'Ghost'."

I roll my eyes, "not fucking helping, Pedro."

"NO! But I'm serious, I-"

[iconsumethesoulsofthedamned]

People saying rogue is the first queer thing to ever happen in doctor who is a disservice to literally half the characters.

Put some respect on my men: Jack, every single man jack flirts with who flirts back,William Shakespeare, The master, The doctor, Agent Canton, parallel Mickey, strax, Avocado Pear’s Dad, and all the other dudes I’ve forgotten about.

Put some respect on my girls: Rose, the doctor, Missy, Casandra, Those married lesbians in gridlock, Madam Vastra, Jenny, Rose Temple-Noble, Bill, Heather, River song,Yaz, and all the other girls I’m missing.

It has been gay. THIS WHOLE TIME.

[madamvanrouge]

The Tempest

William James Moriarty x Reader

"Then all afire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand, with hair up-staring, ーthen like reeds, not hair,ーwas the first man that leap'd; cried, 'Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.'" William leant back in his armchair, scarlet eye blinking beneath his beautiful blond eyelashes as he gazed into empty space. Over his other eye was a dark black eyepatch.

You simply hummed as you looked into the book you held, of Shakespeare's plays. You remembered only so many quotes from it. William had no need for a book, he could recite all 40 of Shakespeare's plays from memory. Him reciting thus to you helped you get through the book quickly and in a more joyous way. Hearing your husband speak was something that gave you much mirth, especially when you were both seated across each other in comfortable armchairs in front of the fireplace in the midst of a dreary winter in your small home at Brighton.

"I feel bad for Ariel." you commented. "Has to do his master's bidding."

William chuckled softly and dryly on hearing your words. "I doubt Ariel is completely blameless." he uttered as he propped one leg over the other. William had a most adorable and polite way of seating himself, it never failed to make you swoon and want to wrap him in a hug.

"Thats true." you replied, closing your book, yawning.

"Are you tired? We may stop here for today if that is your wish." William smiled, his scarlet gaze homing in on yours.

"That would be much appreciated." you smiled at him, noting the soft expression he held. William had always had a solemn, distant expression before, so seeing him thus softened brought a sort of happiness to your heart. "Sherlock didn't barge in tonight. Odd, considering he does so every single night taking every advantage of the fact he lives next door." you sighed.

William chuckled heartily. "I would have appreciated had Sherly shown himself. I do have a few things that I need to talk to him about." he hummed softly, his voice as soft and lovely as ever, decorated with his signature British accent.

"We should get to bed, Liam." you placed your hand on the man's arm, rubbing it gently. "You have an early day tomorrow."

"Indeed." William nodded gently, his scarlet eye reminiscient of either the beauty of sunsets or the glistening crimson of blood freshly smeared on the sharpened tip of a blade. "Were I but wretched, my love." he sighed, placing his hand on your cheek. "It pains me to see your attentions gone to work on so odious a man as myself, on such vulgar a connexion, as has hardly been since the notion of the propriety of society, and that of the worth of life, came into being." his tone was soft, his eyes sorrowful, such a broken man he was, yet so beautiful.

"William..." you could hardly place your words right, you had little idea of what to say, and you wished for him to finish his thought as well.

"For years have my actions led me, in desperation for a result, caused me to sin twice and twice again." William uttered, his expression hardening. "For years, have these palms been seeped through with a scarlet as irremovable as the stains of ink on a canvas pure white, untainted; marred with blotches so painfully obvious as would most likely repulse any whose misfortune beget them gaze upon it, and scruple through its length and width desperately so as to propagate the assemblage of a search of true purpose, true affability, even a sense of alacrity within but finding nothing."

You gently tugged at William's eyepatch, an action that caused him to flinch before he tried to relax ultimately under your observance. You removed it carefully, revealing a scar that marred his skin, and a discoloured eye that could see no longer. You gently kissed the scar, your hand resting on William's cheek. "There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple: If the ill spirit have so fair a house, good things will strive to dwell with't." you spoke softly. Lines from the Tempest, offered to Ferdinand by Miranda.

William's gaze immediately softened, his heart warm and full, recognizing the lines the moment they slipped past your mouth. He pulled you closer by the waist, a gentle, small smile tugging at his lips. "You render me speechless, you render me most powerless and above all, a fool to your whims." he kissed your lips gently. "Oh sweet, fair Miranda of mine." he brought you down onto his lap, kissing your neck. "My darling mistress."

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

hiya, can you write something fluffy with Roy Kent where he’s dating an author and he wakes up to her not being in bed beside him, he gets up and sees her still working at her desk in her office, so he does something like hugs her from behind but he gets a glimpse of the book she working on and it’s based of there love story (someone falling in love with a grumpy but secretly loveable footballer) ❤️❤️

Happily Ever After

Roy Kent x Reader

0.7k words

Warnings: Language

Ahh I loved this!!! Bonus points if anyone can peep the Taylor Swift reference I threw in there!

~

Roy turned over and stretched out his arm. Eyes still closed, he frowned when he grabbed a handful of sheets. He took a peek at the clock on his nightstand; it was one in the morning. You should be in bed; you’d said you’d be finished after one more paragraph.

With a hmmph, Roy hauled himself out of bed and shuffled down the hallway. Sure enough, he saw the light on in your office and heard the clickclickclick of your keyboard. Stifling a yawn, he leaned in the doorway and watched you.

There you were, wearing shorts and one of his old Chelsea jerseys, your hair tied up sloppily. He loved it when you got like this, all focused and typing away. Even with your back to him, he knew your nose was scrunched in concentration and you were chewing on your bottom lip. He stifled a chuckle when you tilted your head to the side- an adorable habit you vehemently denied doing every time he pointed it out.

Doing his best to keep quiet, Roy strolled across the room, relishing the small squeak that came out of your mouth when he wrapped his arms around you.

“How’s it going, Shakespeare?” he hummed, planting a kiss on your cheek.

You laughed and leaned your head against his. “Good. I’m on a roll, actually.”

Roy smiled. “I noticed. It’s past one.”

“No way.” Your eyes widened as you looked at the clock on your computer. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

He quickly shook his head. “Not at all. Just, I don’t fucking know, missed you.” He glanced at the computer screen. “What’re you working on anyway?”

Your hands covered his eyes as you laughed. “Oh no! You can’t see!”

With a growl, Roy pulled your hands down. “Come on. Let’s have a look.”

Face burning, you knew there was no point in arguing. It wasn’t like you could ever say no to Roy when he looked at you with those sleepy eyes. He’d given you those same eyes the night he rolled over in bed and asked you to move in with him. Or when you woke up to him gazing at you, just before he told you he loved you for the first time.

Now those sleepy eyes trailed down the computer screen, taking in the words you’d been working on all night. You chewed your lower lip, a bad habit that had you buying ChapStick far too often, as you watched for his reaction. The reason you’d been up so late was because you had finally gotten to your favorite part of any story: boy gets girl back. You were a sucker for declarations of love, runs through the airport, kisses in the rain, all that cheesy stuff that made Roy roll his eyes playfully.

But he didn’t roll his eyes this time. Instead, he smiled as his cheeks reddened. His breathing slowed and he let out a little hum as he read before finally turning back to you.

“Is this about us?”

His face shone with amusement as he waited for the answer. As if he needed you to confirm it. Your book, which you’d avoided talking too much about, even with Roy, was about a writer and a grumpy footballer. The scene he’d just read concluded in a heated kiss on a football pitch.

“Yeah,” you murmured, ducking your head. “I mean, it’s inspired by you, I guess.”

A breathy chuckle escaped Roy’s lips as he squeezed you tight. “Fuck. I love it.” He kissed your temple. “You’re so fucking talented. What a mind.”

You shook your head, embarrassed by the praise. “Roy-”

“No,” he insisted, tilted your face towards his. “You are fucking amazing. You see a blank page on your computer, and you create an entire world. You make people feel things with your words. Fuck, no wonder your publisher’s been hounding you for this thing. It’s going to sell even more than your last one.”

The sincerity in Roy’s face eased the tension in your shoulders. Sometimes, you felt silly with the things you wrote, all romance novels and fluff. You wondered if Roy actually liked reading it, or if he just did it because he was your boyfriend and it was his job to be supportive. But seeing the pride on his face as he spoke, you knew. This wasn’t boyfriend duty. He really meant it.

He picked up the laptop and shrugged towards the door. “Come on. You can read me some more of this in bed. I want to know what happens after the happily ever after.”

You smiled as he led you down the hall, back to your room. What happens after happily ever after? You were living it.

[milliesfishes]

Request of Billy Bragging about his girl😭

billy bragging about you

fem reader x billy the kid (this one's a little bit short but this is so cute <3)

Naturally since in his eyes you were the prettiest, sweetest woman in the west, Billy felt the need to let everyone know it.

He wasn’t obnoxious when he did so- that wasn’t his way. Billy was more subtle, but oh did you notice.

Sometimes it was in the form of the clothes you wore. He’d watch you get dressed, leaning back on his hands and saying, “Wear that one, sweet. Ya look so pretty.”

And of course you’d do as he requested because him thinking you looked pretty in turn made you feel pretty. He always made sure you knew how lovely he found you.

Your favorite, however, was when he’d talk about you.

To his credit, he didn’t rub it in. But he wouldn’t shy away from lavish praise if given the chance.

One time you were getting the two of you drinks at the bar while he stayed at the table with his friends. Ever the gentleman, Billy’d offered to get them but you insisted, saying you wanted to stretch your legs.

While you were waiting for the barkeep, you heard your name over the rumbling noise of the bar and turned your head.

Billy was nodding, smiling broadly. “She’s a light ain’t she? My best girl.”

“Pretty little thing to be sure,” one of his friends said, taking a sip of his beer.

“Smart too,” Billy countered, grinning and sitting back. He was a fine sight in the chair sitting with his legs spread, his gun resting on his thigh in its holster. “My girl’s read everything’ from Thoreau to Shakespeare.”

A little twinge of pride lit in your chest, and you were hardly able to contain your smile. Of course he always told you these things, but it was another thing entirely to hear him say it to other people. It almost made it more real.

“Real shame ya snatched ‘er up ‘fore anyone else could get a chance,” the other man groaned, setting his beer on the table. “She’s a keeper, that one.”

“She is,” Billy agreed, looking over at you. You smiled sweetly, grabbing your drinks and coming over to him, sitting on his leg.

“Hey sweet girl,” Billy greeted, dutifully kissing your temple. “Everythin’ good pretty?”

You nodded, setting your drinks on the table and wrapping your arms around his neck, nuzzling into him. He chuckled. "You okay?"

"Just love you," you smiled, tilting your head up to him.

He smiled, petting your hair and keeping his hand splayed on your tummy. "Love ya too sugar. Love love love ya."

You loved when he showed you off too, his other way of bragging.

His gang would be having a bonfire or something of the like and Billy would insist he come along, keeping his arm around your waist the whole time.

"Look who I brought!" he'd call out, and his boys would whistle and holler much to your blush.

He'd smack a kiss on your cheek. "Ain't she pretty?"

You'd nestle up to him in the glow of the fire, and he'd hold you between his legs, tugging the ends of his jacket to cover you as well as him. Occasionally the wind would blow smoke in your direction and you'd bury your face in his chest.

Billy would laugh, hiding his own nose in your hair. "Smoke follows beauty, pretty, ya know that? 'nd I got the most beautiful girl all snuggly in my arms."

[tetrafelino]

Humans have never lived perfect lives. You will not find a perfect life in the past. You will not find it hiding amongst colonial cottages nor medieval cites nor ancient temples. You will not find the perfect life woven into pre-christian european tribes, or old christian monasteries. It is not coded into Shakespeare nor Ovid nor Gilgamesh. You will not even find it in pre-historical societies. Humans have never lived perfect lives.