filled frame


is he poetry to you?

how he takes your broken remnants, healing you piece by piece. The way he holds your quarters and halves making you whole again. Or how he unwraps each layer of your soul witnessing parts of you that no one has seen. reading the stories of your struggles that stay tucked away in the drawers of your silence. the resilience that remains unspoken. travelling the map of your body, reaching roads of ruination and homes of obliteration. because he noticed the walls inside of you crumbling and your morals stumbling . but he stepped on those broken pieces and with each step he destroyed the damage and the heartache. he picked up the wreckage of your life and built something new, something inconceivable

is he poetry to you ?

the way he traces your feelings with his fingertips. filling all your empty frames with masterpieces. how he wraps you with his words. creating vines that you desperately climb to reach the garden the grows inside of you. where he digs deep into to the hollows of your heart, weeding out your past so he can plant the future.

is he poetry to you?

the man who stops time just to hear you. the man who kills himself just to keep you alive. how he breaks himself in hopes of healing you. the man who looks past your skin and bones so he can witness the inconceivable, the irrecoverable parts of you.

baby girl, he learned to love your soul before your body and that in itself is poetry.

Sameen Shaw Appreciation Day

I loved how last month everyone got into paying tribute to ‘If-Then-Else’ with me so I thought I would give you all a heads up that I plan on doing something similar this coming Tuesday (February 21) to celebrate the anniversary of the first time our favorite compact Persian sociopath graced our screens. (‘Relevance’ aired on February 21, 2013)

I’ll be posting my favorite stills of Shaw all day as well as Shaw-centric posts on my other blog. I’d love to make a day of reveling in all her badass glory.

So dig up your favorite Shaw posts or make some new ones! 

It’s hammer time 🔨


what big eyes you have (the kind of eyes that drive wolves mad)

Happy birthday @aenariasbookshelf

Her grandmother would always say that if you cut a Lewis woman, they’d bleed green. She never understood that, not as a kid with red-scraped knees. As an adult though, things were different. Darcy, like all the Lewis women before her, was a witch. A hedge witch with magic over green growing things.

She could make anything grow, except for her nails.

She was a witch with a specialisation in earth magic, with an impulsive streak a mile wide. She listened with her heart more than her head, which often led to some interesting places.

Darcy tried hard to curb her impulsive nature, she really did. But moving forward without any thought, listening with her heart, led to a life far different than working in her mother’s flower shop in Petaluma, California.

It led her to a job working for a brilliant, if somewhat caffeine-addled, alchemist living in the middle of the city, the only greenery nearby a sad communal garden with vicious little roses and more weeds than grass.

There are crescents of dirt beneath her nails as she pushes open a glass door into the cool interior of White Star Tattoo. A spark of magic like golden sunshine washes over her as she steps over the threshold.

The shop smells of leather and ink and beeswax candles. The walls are filled with framed photographs of tattoos and beautiful sketches.

“Just a minute,” shouts a voice from the back of the shop.

“No problem,” Darcy shouts back. She takes a sip of the coffee she brought in with her and examines a sketch of the phases of the moon over a geometric forest. Interesting, even if it wasn’t her style.

“Hi,” says a soft, deep voice.

Darcy’s heart jumps in her chest and she spins around on her heel. Hot coffee splashes onto her hand. She looks up and up, into amused blue eyes and a handsome face covered in a neatly trimmed beard.

Magic clings to the man like an old coat, well-worn and stained. There is a wildness to the man, something that echos of the deep forest. Moonlight and fur and…

“Wolf,” Darcy says. The word slips past her lips without her consent, trailed by the hot feeling of embarrassment crawling up her neck. Wearing a red blouse might have been more than a fashion mistake.

“Witch,” he replies, head cocking to the side. “Can I help you?” He crosses his arms over his chest, ink spilling out from under the rolled-up cuffs of his sleeves.

Darcy’s mind goes blank. A small splash of magic slips past her control, wrapping itself around a potted tulip on the reception desk. The green leaves perk up, and the white blooms open.

“Tattoo, I want a tattoo,” she blurts, tearing her eyes away from the glimpse of ink peeking out behind the open top buttons of his shirt. “Apple blossoms. It’s…it’s a thing.” Darcy waves her hand, and the tulips bend towards her fingers with a whisper of leaves.

“Alright, let’s see what we can do for you, Ms..”

“Darcy, just Darcy.”

“Alright, Just-Darcy, I’m Steve.”

“A werewolf that tells dad jokes and then stabs you with needles? This must be my lucky day.”

Nothing Without Love: Chapter 1

Gladio x F!Reader Multi - Chapter Fic (reader insert)

Quick summary for those who haven’t read the original drabble:

This is an Arranged Marriage AU. The reader is Noctis’s older sister (Age 22). As the Princess, she is tied to many duties. Arranged marriage being one. She is now betrothed to someone she hate; Gladio Amicitia. 

Much angst. 

So I was originally going to name this “Reluctance” just as I named the original drabble. But I was listening to “Nothing Without Love” while listening to writing this. And. It just worked out. Lol. Well I hope you enjoy! Blindbae is starting this off with evil plot twists already. Wtf.

Thus I begin my decent into Gladio hell.

Word Count: 1,832

Tagging some friend: @stunninglyignis, @themissimmortal, @cupnoodle-queen, @nifwrites, @itshaejinju, @rubyphilomela, @the-lucian-archives, @viscaelus, @stephicness, @lupanaoflaminar, @neko-otaku13 , and @momokitty27 <3

 Next Chapter

“You wanted to see me?” You pressed into your father’s study, you hands gracefully folded over your lap. Your father, Regis Lucis Caelum, King of your country, sat at his desk busying himself with what seemed like another endless pile of paperwork.

“Yes, Y/N,” he looked up from his work, placing his pen back onto the study wooden desk that was absolutely cluttered with random items. Discarded balls of paper, photos frames filled with pictures of you and your younger brother, candy wrappers (your father had always had a sweet tooth),  along with several miscellaneous items you couldn’t identify from your distance. 

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And I’ll Learn From The Landscapes That Everything Must Change

Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Characters: Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson
Series: Part 6 of The ‘And…’ Series

These kisses are like memories, a play of a tongue across his lips has him seeing dark nights in Princess Park, while a nibble on his jaw takes him back to their first trip to France, a kiss to his eyelashes reminds him of an early morning in Milan, while a press of lips to the corner of his mouth shows him moonlit washed nights from their private house back home. Deeper still as a tug of his lip shows him places that they never shared with anyone but each other, places that promised of a respite from the sentence of separations, a refuge from the tense words born of weary stares. Two mouths, wrapped up in one love. All of these places, like frames filled with photographs, of every place that they have touched, in all the ways you can. Louis clings to Harry’s shoulders and it’s like the ghosts of kisses past play through him, until he remembers how to move his lips again, to give pleasure as well as take of it, relishing in the taste and smell that is only Harry, in all that keeps him holding on, in what reminds him of who he is. Of who he loves. And why.


So I’ve got things going on in life right now. Just gunna be open about that. Real busy and such. Personal life, work, I’m getting an apartment. It’s a lot all at once so I can’t really make a comic or even make one tomorrow. But in a way that gives me time to try something out that I’ve been thinking about during the short time I will be busy. Something I want to call the…


I’ve made 4 rows of 4 tiny comic frames. I’ve created a prompt for you by filling in the first and last frame. The challenge is very simple. Fill in the remaining frames! 

I think a large part about creativity is working within the restrictions you are given. So I have made these frames small and I have given you a prompt. Work within those restrictions, and then everything else is up to you. Have fun with it and when you’re done share it with people. You could even print out and have your friends make some comics.

And share them with me too! You can either email them to me or tweet them to me:


This challenge has no prize. It’s just for fun! So have a good time with it. I’ll be picking out a handful you guys send me (if you give me permission) and posting them here this Friday. Then after that I’ll be getting back to making my normal comics. I probably won’t be able to share all of the ones that are sent to me so if I don’t post yours don’t feel bad. Remember this is for fun :) Have a great rest of the week 😎 stay cool.

No Way Around

A Malec oneshot ~ 3.8k words

Also available on Ao3. 

Summary: Magnus and Alec are assigned to kill a demon terrorizing a mundane neighborhood, but once they split up, Alec is faced with a difficult decision. Both have dire consequences, so what is Alec willing to give up?

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~.’s~ (Daveed Diggs x Reader)

A/N: Hello hello hello! This is my first imagine on Tumblr, I’m still learning, so I’m sorry if I do something wrong, but please inform me if I do! Thank you!

T/W: Periods, swearing, implied smut, hangovers/implied drinking

Prompt: Not sure if this necessarily counts but there was a Buzzfeed video on period horror stories and this happened to one girl. Watch it here!

Words: 2327

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was that this was not your room.

Small green plants littered the side-table next to you, and the gentle hum of an air-conditioning unit filled the room. Framed Oakland shirts hung on the dark-blue walls surrounding you, and a large American flag hung on the wall opposite the bed.

You froze. Where the fuck were you, and why the fuck did you have such a mind-splitting headache?

The music in the bar was much too loud, and one too many sleazy guys had tried to buy you a drink. Your friends begged you to stay for just half-an-hour longer, but you declined, pretending you had somewhere to be.

You had gone out for a night with them, and you really did feel bad for leaving after only a few drinks, but it felt too suffocating to be in such a small bar, with so many drunk, horny strangers.

The Universe seemed to have separate plans, however, and as you turned to leave, you barreled straight into someone. Well, more like someone barreled straight into you.

“Ow! What the-” You didn’t even have time to register you were falling until you hit the ground. A sudden dampness fell over your shirt, and the sound of a cup hitting the ground followed.

“Oh! Oh, my God, I’m so, so sorry!” A man’s voice came from closer than you would’ve liked, and you looked up to find a mess of hair and worried eyes directly next to your hip. You were quick to try to shuffle away, but your mind was already too occupied with the bruise that you could feel forming on your back, where skin had collided with floor. “Oh shit, your shirt!”

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anonymous asked:

#19 for Nessian

So this went from fluffy cuteness to table smut way faster than I imagined.

Domestic Life Headcanon: Cassian and Nesta are both on the same wavelength when it comes to having a tidy home. They each make sure the house is orderly and Nesta will put forth more effort to add a bit more decorative furniture to the house such as picture frames. Cassian once dropped his sword in awe on the hardwood floors when he saw the wall alongside the staircase was intricately arranged with frames filled with images of their friends, family and maps displaying where Cassian and Nesta traveled. It took hours for Nesta to fit them perfectly on the wall, but it was well worth it to see the smile on Cassian’s face everytime he glanced at the pictures.

Cassian is also the main cook of the household though he manages to teach Nesta how to cook a few meals. As a surprise she learned how to bake blueberry muffins for Cassian since they are favorite. She spent hours getting the ingredients just right and they turn out to be the best muffins Cassian has ever tasted. 

“Though it’s not the best thing I’ve ever tasted before,” Cassian says after finishing the last muffin.

“Oh,” Nesta asks with slight disappointment in her tone. “And what is?”

Cassian hugs her from behind and presses his face into her neck. He then begins to kiss and lick at the sensitive spot he knows will make Nesta melt against him.

“You are,” he replies with a faint seductive growl before placing Nesta on the kitchen table amid the chocolate, blueberries and other ingredients. “And I haven’t had my fill yet.”

Send a ship/character and a number for a headcanon!

Title: Friends

Warnings: None

Request: Tom Wilson one where Tom and the reader are good friends and Tom eventually realizes he has feelings for her and is very nervous to tell her. but eventually does. She gets mad and upset bc she doesn’t think he’s being serious and is only in it for one thing but then a few days later realizes she does have feelings for him and they end up together after having a talk? Friends to lovers is my favorite trope lol

Note: This request was so cute, I hope it was what you wanted. Feedback is always welcome! :)

Links: My Master List  and My Current Requests

“And you’re going to be gone for how long?” you asked for the thousandth time, popping the hatch on Tom’s SUV, watching as he dragged his final two bags down the sidewalk.

“About 3 months. I’ll be back in time for training camp.” he said, coming stop beside you, his muscle straining as he lifted one of the bags into the trunk.

“That’s such a long time.” you sighed. “I’ll actually have to go out and make friends of my own.” you chuckled.

“It’s not like you don’t have plenty of options. You’re in one of the most populated cities on the east coast.” he said, rolling his eyes. “Someone other than me is bound to find you tolerable.”

“Wow, thanks.” you replied with a laugh, lightly punching him in the shoulder. “After you’re out of high school making friends is hard. And I’ve been stuck with you as a best friend for so long I never really needed to go out and make friends before.”

“Stuck with me?” he said in mock offense. “Just come back home with me. I’m sure your parents would love to see you. We can hang out with the old high school crew.”

“Tom, not all of us have jobs that allow us to work out and do whatever the fuck we want for three months out of the year.” you said, shooting him a look. “I have a job I need to go to every day.”

“I know, I know.” he muttered. “You are coming to visit, though, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there the first week of July.”

“Alright, I’ll make sure I clear my schedule.” he said, reaching up and closing the door. He grabbed the backpack off the ground, walking to the driver’s side door, you following close behind. Tossing the bag into the passenger’s seat he turned to you, pulling his keys out of his pocket. He slid his extra apartment key off the key chain, handing it to you. “Just stop by every other week, make sure nothing’s flooding or broken.” he said handing it to you.

“I know the drill.” you said, taking the key and putting it in your bag.

“And just because I have a swankier place than you, don’t use it to impress some sleaze ball lobbyist or something and for the love of God, please don’t have sex on my couch.”

“Fuck you. Sounds more like something you would do.” you said, raising your eyebrows at him.

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anonymous asked:

how would the chocobros react to seeing their and their s/o's baby all grown up who time traveled back to save their parents from dying? like the bros know it's their baby but are confused bc there's the baby version of them and the grown version existing in the same time. maybe some angst and cute family fluff? ❤

Ohoho I see we have a Fire Emblem fan in the house ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) (or I could just be way off base here and now I look dumb ok I’ll stop now)

Ever since I played that game I’m not gunna lie, that trope has become delicious. (Delicious? Should I have used that word there? Does that make me weird? ok I’ll stop again thnx)

Okay, first: I took some liberties. I set this during the game’s timeline, so their hypothetical child isn’t born yet. Second, as I was writing this, I began with Noctis (because I always begin with Noctis lololol) and it got to be so long that I thought it would be a bit much to include all the bros. So, with that said, I’ll only be posting him atm. However, if you guys want this done with the other three then do let me know! Otherwise, I’ll probably stop it here. Sorry about that!

Now on to the writing!


{1,494 words}


When you meet her it’s at Hammerhead, just after you step outside of the diner, following behind the guys. You got the phone call from Prompto.

Noctis is awake. And he’ll be here soon.

When the guys finally part from the circle they had created, full of laughter and smiles, you see the man you had fallen in love with so long ago, and all you can think is that, he’s here. He’s here and awake and alive and you can’t contain the tears that are spilling from your eyes no matter how many times you wipe them away.

Noctis,” you choke out as you step forward, unstable as a newborn calf. The bright fluorescent stadium lights ensconcing Hammerhead illuminate him in a harsh glow. You see his unkempt and overgrown hair hang low in front of his eyes. You see the dirt on his rugged face, layered with facial hair you had never known him to have. You see the way his jawline has filled out, his eyes have sunken in, and what the burden of ten years has done with the boy you once knew.

It’s turned him into a king.

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Through Your Eyes

It’s less shippy than it sounds

A follow-up fic to a Blind!Ryan AU short that @gangsandglory wrote a LONG time ago so… y'know :,)

Geoff paid for the bill on their way out of Denny’s. The total was higher than expected by the end of the outing thanks to Gavin daring Jeremy and Michael to a pancake eating contest. Needless to say, the two were forced into the back of the van together, in case anything came back up.

As Geoff was handed his receipt, Ryan brushed past him and headed for the front door, which Jeremy was holding open. “I’ll get that,” Geoff called, grabbing Ryan by the arm. The short-stack Bostonian gave a shrug and rubbed his aching belly.

Ryan tilted his head in Geoff’s direction. “Oh c'mon boss, you just can’t grab a blind man like that,” he quipped with a smile tugging his lips.

But Geoff was in no such mood. “Jesus christ Ryan,” he sighed, leading the man towards the door. “Listen; yeah maybe I should have paid more attention to the dynamics of my team but-… Well there’s just no guessing one of your crew mates are blind now is there? Why didn’t you tell me when I-, well I dunno, hired you?”

“Geez,” Ryan’s nose scrunched in disgust. He went quiet for a second as he found his footing and stepped off the curb. Sounds of the bickering lads pointed him in the direction of the van. “For fucks sake Geoff, I really never expected you to be so angry about it.”

“Never expected-…!” Geoff’s face flushed red as his blood pressure went through the roof. It took a minute for him to collect his thoughts. “Meet me in my office after we get back to the penthouse,” he managed, before reaching the driver’s door.

No one else seemed to hear the angry boss’s request aside from Jeremy, who helped Ryan into the middle row of the van. “Everything okay?” He whispered.

Ryan was silent. He ripped the buckle from his caretaker’s hand and helped himself. Jeremy looked hurt, but understood, and he manuvered his way to the back. With Gavin asleep from the post-meal itis and Michael with his headphones on, it was a painfully quiet ride home.

Much Later that Evening

“I thought I told you to come see me,” Geoff’s irritated voice called out before his footsteps fell silent at the doorframe.

Vagabond was sorting and resorting his knife set in his room. “…Sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t feel like coming…” His hands settled and he took a breath. He began sorting the knives by size.

Geoff watched the rhythmic exercise take place. He’d pick up a knife, rub his thumb along the hilt, and place it somewhere new. “Excuse me? It was an order, not a suggestion. I need to talk to you right now.” Boss gnashed his teeth and let himself into Ryan’s room. Leather peeled and stretched as he sat in the corner chair. Soft taps resonated across the floor.

Ryan sighed and rested his hands.

He started sorting by sharpness.


“Your wearing those shitty sneakers you got from Payless,” Ryan noted, almost accusingly. “You spilled booze on them last weekend…”

“Listen to me-”

“Did you just come in from a smoke? What brand is that, Newport?” the lump in his throat grew.

“Ryan, you stop this,” Geoff sighed, tucking the pack of cigarettes further down his jean pocket.

“I know what this is about,” Ryan said without facing him. He continued sorting. “I know why you called me in and I don’t want to talk about it.”

“It’s a big fucking issue Ryan,” the seat creaked as he leaned forward, “and I dont recall you ever telling me before! And telling me when im drunk doesnt count.”

“You trusted me before you knew why dont you trust me now?” The rythm stopped.

He began sorting by weight.

“Because now I know! We dont keep secrets here and-”

“That’s a lie.”

“We dont keep secrets that endanger the team,” Geoff said firmly. “I need to know these kinds of things to-; would you look at me when I’m talking to you?!”

Ryan slammed a knife against his dresser and whirled around. “What do you want see? This?!” In one swift motion he whipped around threw himself at Geoff, his hands gripping the armrests of the chair. Their faces were inches apart.

“You… wear contacts,” Geoff breathed, searching the milky eyes staring through him. No wonder he thought Ryan’s eye were so blue.

“I wore contacts, Ryan huffed. “Why should I hide it anymore?” Their gaze remained locked until Ryan cast his eyes to the floor. Slowly he stood straight and backed away.

Creaks from the bed frame filled the silence as Ryan sat opposite of Geoff. “Look,” Boss said calmly, “I understand that you’re good at what you do-”

“Then let me do my job…”

“Just listen,” Geoff sighed, resting his chin in his hands.

“I’m always listening. I can hear your calloused hands running over your face. I can tell you haven’t shaved in three days from the friction of your beard. I can hear Jeremy and Michael bickering about the pancake contest outside. I hear Gavin laughing at them. I hear Jack in the garage, fixing your bike; Geoff I can hear everything.” Ryan emphasized. “I was hoping, if you ever knew… if I ever told you, that you’d understand. I can still see,” Ryan looked at Geoff. “Just not like you can.”

The boss remained silent. As mysterious of a character Ryan’s been since they’ve met, Geoff’s always trusted him. He’s never given a reason to show he’s incapable of doing what the job demands. Even before they hired Jeremy, the man’s taken good care of himself. And when Geoff couldn’t be there he’s done his part to take care of the crew.

“…Ryan I,” he started, the words caught on the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.” With that, he gathered himself and stood to leave. “I never meant to make you feel like your differences made you unwelcome here,” he said as he walked away. His footsteps stopped at the doorframe.

Ryan tilted his head to face him. “I don’t need acceptance boss,” he said blankly. “I just want to be trusted. That’s how we get the job done.”

Geoff bit his lip and turned to walk away. He passed another crew member in the hallway but didn’t make an effort to acknowledge them.

Ryan waited a few beats before speaking up. “What is it Jeremy?” he spoke quietly. His face was turned out of sight.

Jeremy sighed and leaned his shoulder on the door. “I trust you, Ryan.”

“…Do you accept me?” He asked, turning to face him.

“You know I do,” Jeremy said quickly, rushing to Ryan’s side. “And the crew does too. Even Geoff. They’re just in shock.” He placed a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “Give them some time, Rye. They’ll see that there’s nothing you can’t do.”

Ryan sighed and hung his head. A few moments peace settled their conversation until Ryan’s mind wandered elsewhere. “Michael beat you by two pancakes, by the way. Just give Gavin his money,” he said.

“Shut the hell up!” Jeremy chuckled. Ryan let out a quiet laugh and leaned against his caretaker. “Are you going to be okay?” Jeremy asked after a beat.

“With you here, I’ll be more than okay.” Ryan said quietly, “…Will you take me to the lake tonight and describe the sunset again?”

“It’s going to rain,” Jeremy said sadly.

“That’s okay. You can describe the storm. I just love seeing the world through your eyes.”

Morgan Rielly - Part Nine

Again, it’s late and I’m lazy, please ignore my minor errors and love me. 

Nick apologizes that afternoon.

               After I got home from my run and showered, he texted me asking if he could call. I hadn’t accepted his apology yet, still licking my wound from his behavior the last couple days. And I made sure he knew that.

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Part 7: Draco Malfoy x Reader Imagine

Masterlist with all previous parts HERE

Summary: Draco and Reader finally face and address their complicated relationship.

Word Count: 8044

Warnings: Kissing (PG), Swearing, Allusions to the deed (nothing explicit), some reader jealousy™

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The Stunning Brilliance of 2015 Macbeth’s Forest, or “The one time a Shakespeare adaptation made a change and became better than the original play”

2015 Macbeth with Michael Fassbender was VERY fucking good. They respected the script, they blocked scenes like they were actually running a play, they nailed the soliloquies, it had an amazing, claustrophobic aesthetic and they remained in the scope of the original play. A lot can be said about how good it was, but a lot of that praise will return to being praise of Shakespeare so I won’t bother at length. I did particularly liked Macduff’s yelling of “He has no children”, because it was so confusing for a moment, before you realised that the very first thing Macduff was thinking about was killing Macbeth’s kids. Again, that’s implicit in the play itself, but it was acted stunningly well and has stayed with me and horrified me for over a year.

The change I want to talk about is the ending sequence, where they bring Birnam Wood to the castle. In the original play the soldiers pick up the trees and move under camouflage towards the castle, effectively moving the wood and fulfilling the prophecy that the wood must move before Macbeth can die. In the film, instead of doing that, they BURN the wood, and in the wind the smoke and ashes carry the substance of the burning trees over the castle. This struck me as such an incredibly smart decision that I want to break down why it was so good in several points:

1. It was visually awesome. Having soldiers goofily hide under sticks or behind trees might have been silly considering the tone of the film. But instead the final scenes had a serious visual weight: the frame was filled with dark red and black colours, and there was smoke billowing over everyone looking like blood, and it justified the final sword fights appearing in a swirl of chaos. As a cinematic decision it DEFINITELY worked.

2. It was ironic. Macduff kind of throws up his hands as if to say “look, the forest has come to your castle”, in a kind of “fuck this play, I’m going to burn the fucking forest, who cares”. Of course, the point was that the ashes were carried in the wind, which gave this brilliant image of the wood basically being spat into Macbeth’s face, but it also felt like “I don’t care about the prophecy, here’s your “wood” travelling to the castle”, not least because it was a subversion of the audience’s expectation too. They just really wanted Macbeth dead in this film. I just feel like the burning fits the tone so damn well.

3. It mirrored Macbeth’s burning of people earlier.

4. It’s way more aggressive than approaching undercover, which made the whole thing seem a lot angrier.

5. It’s unnatural: one of the big themes of the play is a subversion of nature, or of natural order, of doing gross and violent things that don’t seem acceptable. Burning a wood, destroying nature, and have it fly as satanic ash towards a castle, really fits the bill.

6. It was inspired. I know this is sort of a cop out point, but I just think it was such an unusual thing to think of when they were making the film. 

7. This is the best one: 

Earlier in the play Macbeth complains that he can’t get Duncan’s blood off of his hands, and that the more he washes the more the spot won’t get out. He famously says that he might “the multitudinous seas incarnidine / making the green one red”. It’s unnatural, and gives the idea that his sins are passing on and are unstoppable, that they can’t be purged easily, that the infection is spreading. The eventual consequence is the wood burning, as if his sin has grown into a blaze spreading across the land and destroying things. 

But what do you do when you burn a forest? You turn the green trees into fire, which spreads across the forest to incarnidine it.

Burning a forest makes the green one red: a parallel Shakespeare didn’t think of.



p.s. “Birnam Wood” also sounds like “Burn ‘em wood”

March 10th

When Remus Lupin was a child, he loved birthdays. He adored the presents, the parties, and the love, cheer and goodwill that abounded on such precious days. They were rare golden moments snatched from the greedy tendrils of time, and he treasured birthdays every time they rolled around, whether it was his or another’s special day. 

After Remus Lupin was bitten, every birthday was terrifying. It marked one more year of suffering, of full moons and howling and pain, signaling the passing toll of time with stinging finality. He cringed at the thought that another year of anguish lay ahead, of watching his ailing mother act cheerful for his sake, of seeing his father cradle his head in his hands when he thought Remus couldn’t see his sorrow, of the horrifying and unpredictable transformations that lay ahead. Perhaps this year was the year everything would go wrong, and he would wander too far and be hurt, or even worse, hurt someone else. Survival was a dangerous game, and birthdays only ushered him into its next, more sadistic round. 

As Remus Lupin entered Hogwarts, he came prepared to be lonely and afraid. To his great astonishment and sheer delight, a trio of silly Gryffindor boys insisted on making a fuss about his birthday, conducting the whole house in the happy birthday song at breakfast and showering him with presents and pranks alike. All day (and all night and all year, really) they made horrible puns and paraded him around from class to class to the bemusement of their professors and glee of the student body. Every year they repeated the ridiculous tradition, joined often by Lily and other fun loving friends, and though Remus rolled his eyes every time there was no mistaking the utter joy in his brilliant smiles. 

When Remus Lupin turned 22 years old, he watched, exhausted, as the clock chimed in the new day. Turning to the picture frames filled with madly grinning and waving figures that liberally adorned his otherwise shabby and empty flat, he smiled wistfully. That year, Remus had no cake or celebration or companions.

Happy 57th Birthday, Remus John Lupin.