yespleasemrcheese

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Limpet, mine

#crying #the captain #lieutenant havers #caphavers #is that their ship name? #bbc ghosts

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you've heard of cbs ghosts, you've heard of bbc ghosts, now get ready for... cbc ghosts, the amazing next part of the Ghosts Cinematic Universe

starring:

disgraced politician but he's not, like, a creep. he just wasn't very polite so everyone hated him. he still doesn't have pants though

guy who worked in the oil industry back in the 80s, died in an oil accident and smells like oil when you walk through him

cowboy who looks like he's from the old west but he actually died in the 2010s, he's not even actually a real cowboy, he's just really albertan

fur trade guy

lumberjack

literally just a scout leader. probably named pierre or something. just canadian pat/pete

#i will say i have called cbs ghosts cbc ghosts on multiple occasions by accident lmao #this is really fucking funny fbskfjjs #they've gotta have someone with just a very québécois accent #finally that class i had on québécois swears will come in handy #i would make a joke about my province but i'm not even sure we exist

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According to the article, Katy Wix confirmed production begins in January.

#❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️ #bbc ghosts

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YET AGAIN I SHALL SCREAM ABOUT HOW MUCH I LOVE HER

#everyday #bill the film #gabriel montoya

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#knowing yani's head is in the middle of the chest somehow makes this funnier #still unbelievably cursed though #bbc ghosts

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I bring you a tiny bit of angst, inspired by the moment Humphrey jumped up from breakfast in a frantic bid to connect with his wife.

It never occurred to her he wouldn't follow.

From the moment Sophie had been shipped off to England at age twelve, Humphrey had always been there. A skinny, bumbling boy two years older than her who was always underfoot.

Always making a nuisance of himself. Bringing her ribbons she'd no intention of wearing in her hair, lace and baubles she'd no intention of sewing onto her dresses. Once he'd given her a ring inscribed simply with their initials. Also never worn, but the one thing she wasted precious seconds to rescue in her frantic dash to safety.

His French was terrible, a thing she couldn't fault him for when the attempts at conversation had been one-sided for years. He kept the skill up as best he could, yet when there was no one to engage with loss was inevitable.

Her English, of necessity, was better, but unlike his mother or the servants, speaking to Humphrey was a choice. One Sophie had no intention of making, as it felt too much like conceding defeat in a battle only she was fighting.

He followed her less often as the years wore on. Stopped seeking her out. Only made a nuisance of himself in those rare moments she couldn't avoid their paths crossing. There were still occasions when she was forced to acknowledge him. Times when she'd catch him moving to tag along, but putting him off by refusing to properly engage was practically an artform to her. Remain silent, and eventually he'd give up with very little effort.

And the one time she asked - no, nearly demanded- that her husband follow, he refused.

She wears the ring, now, scurrying from the home of one sympathizer to another until she can flee the country. Because she has to remember, and mourn for at least a little while.

Not because she loved him. There wasn't enough time for that. There were years, of course, though she'd refused on principle to take them. And not because they were friends. There had barely been enough time for that, either.

She's only mourning the what-ifs, the might-have-beens, the lost opportunities.

When she is gone from here and safe, she'll have that other life he wanted for her.

And she'll still wear the ring so that in some small way, he can have one, too.

#i think about this post daily #'it never occurred to her he wouldn't follow' *screams* #bbc ghosts #sir humphrey bone #sophie bone

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More ghosts fanart !!! This time with one of my favorites aka Humphrey. I was rewatching season 3 and the Bone Plot episode inspired me to recreate another JC Leyendecker piece. Humphrey and the misses are so sweet when you think about it so I wanted to show this through the art. Anyways, I hope you like it!!

#ahhhhh!! this is so good!!! #sir humphrey bone #sophie bone #bbc ghosts

[yespleasemrcheese]

Do you think you can do a portrait of kitty and Eleanor with their father? Please use kitty’s family real appearances

ive actually been wanting to do this for a while so yeah!! i'll get cracking on it right away!

#asks #bbc ghosts

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inspired by @stop-saying-tootsie 's lovely post, which you can find here!

#kitty is so lovely to draw i love her #bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts kitty #lolly adefope #my art

[yespleasemrcheese]

more bill 2015 content! read it on ao3 or under the cut :)

borrow cupid's wings and soar

summary: Gabriel turns to Ian to help her rehearse a scene for her upcoming play, Romeo and Juliet.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34733725

-//-

He’s just finished tidying the kitchen for the night when Gabriel approaches him, far more hesitant than he’s seen her in years.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, setting his cloth on the counter and turning towards her. She’s dressed in one of the simple day dresses Anne had sewn for her back when she was too nervous to go to the shops herself. It’s a beautiful shade of red, and Gabriel had told him once that it was her favourite. Ian had to agree. She looks wonderful in it.

“Yes, yes, I was just wondering if I could ask you for a favour?” Ian blinks, the request catching off guard.

“Of course! I’m sure I owe you a thousand times over.” He keeps his voice quiet so as to not wake the rest of the household. “How can I help you?”

“There’s a scene I keep messing up, and I was wondering if you could help me run the lines? I would ask Bill, but he and Anne have gone to bed.” She says, eyes downcast.

Ian nods, a small frown gracing his lips. Both Bill and Anne have been retiring much earlier these past few months, though there are still bags under their eyes when they wake. Ian’s eyes trail subconsciously to the children’s bedroom door, now closed due to the late hour. He tries not to think about how there should be three sleeping in that room, not two.

Forcing the grim thought away, he smiles at Gabriel. “I’d be happy to. Though, I’m not much of an actor.”

Gabriel shrugs, already making her way to her room. “I don’t know, I think you’ll make a fine Romeo.”

Ian freezes where he had started to follow. He’d forgotten what play she would actually be rehearsing, and the reminder tightens in his chest. His heart begins to pound, and he nearly wants to call after her and apologise and say that he’s actually quite tired and he should really be getting to bed, but then she turns and beckons him to follow.

He’s never been able to say no to her.

Gabriel hands him the script from her where it was strewn across her desk, and he wills his hands not to shake as he takes it from her.

“We will start from here,” Gabriel says, pointing to a line halfway down the page, but he hardly even notices. Her face is only a few inches away as she gazes over his shoulder, rising slightly on the tips of her toes.

“Alright,” He says, and the word is far less confident than he had hoped it would be.

Gabriel steps away, and almost misses the warmth of her presence before he shakes himself.

“Dost thou love me?” Gabriel says, gazing at him with a soft look in her eyes, and Ian freezes, stepping back as shock chills his veins. “I know thou-”

“What?” Ian’s voice is quiet, he can barely manage a breath, but it seems to stop Gabriel’s words on the tip of her tongue.

“What?” She echoes, brow furrowed. “Did I mess up the line already?”

Ian blinks. The line?

“Oh,” He says, suddenly remembering the paper he has clutched in his hands. The first line, written in Bill’s elegant scrawl under the name ‘Juliet’, reads ‘Dost thou love me?’

Oh. How could he be so stupid, of course she doesn't lo-

Ian swallows back the sharp pang of disappointment and quickly shakes his head. “No, no, you were perfect- uh, you perfectly said the line.”

Gabriel tilts her head ever so slightly, scrutinizing him with that strangely intense gaze of hers, and he finds he can't look away. She’s so beautiful.

He jolts himself with a sort of self-deprecating half-laugh, gesturing with the script. “You can keep going.”

Gabriel watches him for a moment longer, before nodding.

“I know thou wilt say ‘ay,’ and I will take thy word. Yet if thou swear’st thou mayst prove false. At lovers' perjuries, they say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo, if thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully…” Gabriel’s voice is warm as she speaks, love and desperation in her words, and Ian marvels at how brilliant an actor she is.

The rest of the monologue is somewhat lost on him, as he watches her. Her hair, much longer than when he first met her, is tied back with a simple black ribbon, but a few stray curls still fall over her eyes. Her fingers run along the hem of her dress absentmindedly as she recites, smoothing the fabric. It's a habit she does often, as though she still can't quite believe she’s actually wearing it.

“...Therefore pardon me, and not impute this yielding to light love, which the dark night hath so discovered.” Gabriel stops, turning to look at him. There's a pause, and her gaze turns from Juliet’s longing to expectant, and Ian startles.

“Oh!” He quickly skims the script for where Gabriel stopped, heart pounding in his chest. He doesn't notice the smirk that begins to curl Gabriel’s lips. “Lady, by yonder blessèd moon I vow, that tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops—”

Gabriel grabs his free hand, holding it gently between her own, and his breath catches in his throat. “O, swear not by the moon, th' inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circle orb, lest that thy love prove likewise variable.”

After a moment's consideration, he sets the script on the bedside table, and places his other hand on Gabriel’s. Desperately, he hopes he's watched the rehearsals enough to remember the lines. “What shall I swear by?”

Gabriel quirks her head, amused by his memorization, but does not comment. She’s gazing deep into his eyes, and he finds himself torn between wanting to shrink away or move closer.

“Do not swear at all. Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, which is the god of my idolatry, and I’ll believe thee.”

“If my heart’s dear love-”

Gabriel pulls away again, turning her back to him, and he finally takes a desperate moment to try and compose himself. He inhales as slowly as he can manage, but his shallow breaths have left him lightheaded.

“Sweet, good night.” Gabriel continues, and any progress Ian might have made in stifling his heart falls away in an instant. “This bud of love, by summer’s ripening breath, may prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. Good night, good night! As sweet repose and rest come to thy heart as that within my breast.”

“O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” He recites. Gabriel looks back at him, over her shoulder, and for what seems like the first time, does not meet his eyes.

“What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?” Her voice is softer now, and he can’t help but step closer, drawn like a moth to a flame.

“Th' exchange of thy love’s faithful vow for mine.” The words almost seem to echo in the quiet of the night, and Ian has to press his hands together to keep Gabriel from seeing them tremble as she turns to face him fully.

“I gave thee mine before thou didst request it, and yet I would it were to give again.” Gabriel pulls him closer with an outstretched hand, the other moving to cup his jaw. He isn’t sure if she even realises she’s doing it, too deep into the scene. He’s all too aware of it, with each touch of her skin against his almost seeming to burn.

“Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love?” The final word falls from his lips so easily, as if it were always meant to, and Gabriel’s breath stutters. They’ve drawn even closer without noticing, but neither goes to move away. Ian’s hand lands on her hip, thumb brushing over the soft fabric, without a thought.

“But to be frank,” Gabriel starts again, and it takes a moment for Ian to remember that this is just a rehearsal, that Gabriel is just in character, and he drops his gaze. “-and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have. My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep. The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”

“Then, the nurse calls,” Gabriel says, voice barely a whisper. Her accent slips back into her voice as she breaks character, and Ian finds he can’t look away from her lips.

Silence draws out between them, his hand still pressed to her hip and her fingers still dancing in featherlight touches on his jaw. Her head tilts as she looks at him, brow furrowing ever so slightly.

“You were wonderful,” Ian finally says, breathless.

“As were you. You should ask Bill about being an actor.” Gabriel smiles, and he ducks his head.

“Oh, no, I couldn't, stagefright, you know, and-” His words are cut off as Gabriel takes his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her, before she presses her lips against his. He makes a soft noise of surprise as his eyes flutter shut, warmth spreading through his chest.

The world fades from around them, and he melts into her arms. When his knees nearly buckle, her hand leaves his face to hold his waist, steadying. He can feel her trying not to smile into the kiss.

When they finally pull away, Gabriel’s cheeks are nearly as red as her dress, and Ian is sure he looks much the same. Though, the flush likely makes him seem more like a lovestruck fool, as opposed to complementing his eyes like it does for Gabriel’s blue.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” Gabriel says, brushing her thumb over his cheekbone. He can’t help but lean into the touch.

“Why didn't you?” He asks, and she hesitates for a moment, smile dropping from her face. He scolds himself, biting at the inside of his lip.

“I-” She pulls away slowly, and Ian lets her go. His skin feels cold where her touch no longer lingers. She takes a moment, trying to gather herself, and Ian’s worry builds. “You know I'm not a real woman-”

“No, you are.” He says, stepping towards her. Gabriel looks up quickly, startled by the urgency of his words, but she only meets his eyes for a second. A sad smile rises on her face.

“Ian-”

“You are!” He insists. “You're as much of a woman as- as Anne!”

“But-” This time, he cuts her off with a kiss, pouring as much love as he can into the touch, his fingers curling lightly into her dark hair. Gabriel hums, the sound buzzing against his lips. When he pulls away, Gabriel is watching him, and she seems to glow in the candle light.

“What light through yonder window breaks?” He begins, a smile rising on his face. Gabriel laughs softly, looking down as she shakes her head. “It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief, that thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.”

Despite her smile, tears gather in Gabriel’s eyes. His stomach sinks. In the years he’s known her, he’s never seen her cry. He pulls away, hands hovering awkwardly before he settles on wringing them together, trying to fight the tightness in his chest.

“I’m sorry, was that- did I- should-” He huffs at his own jumbled words, swallowing thickly. “Do you want me to leave?”

Gabriel laughs, but the sound is wet. “No, of course not, Ian.”

“Alright.” His eyes dart around the room as he tries to think of something, anything, to say or to do to help her. “Do- do you want me to get you anything? Tea? Water? I can make something, too, if you’d like-”

“Ian.” She interrupts, holding up one hand. She meets his eyes, and her gaze is fond. Still, tears trail down her cheeks, following the curve of her jaw. “You’ve already done so much.”

She carefully unfurls his hands, which had gone white from his tight grip, and takes them in her own. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he murmurs, voice quiet. Gabriel moves to sit on the edge of the bed, exhaustion weighing in her features. He must be keeping her up.

“I should bid you goodnight, miss.” He dips his head in a bow, and Gabriel shifts.

“Do you mind staying?” She asks, not meeting his surprised gaze when he looks up. “I’d like it if you would.”

“It would be my pleasure.” He moves to sit next to her, and when she looks at him, the warmth in her eyes draws all the breath from his chest. He wipes the remaining tears from her cheeks with a swipe of his thumb, his hand lingering against her face.

“I love you,” The words are barely a whisper, but he says them before he can stop himself. Gabriel backs away ever so slightly, brows raised, and he opens his mouth to apologise. Before he can, however, she presses a gentle finger to his lips.

“I love you, too,” She says, and her smile is even brighter than the sun.

#ahhh #hope yall enjoy :) #bill 2015 #bill the film #bill 2015 ian #gabriel montoya #larry rickard #jim howick #six idiots

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Ian is finally free of the Earl of Croydon, but now he has nowhere to go. A chance encounter with Bill Shakespeare lands him in a new home, with a new job, and new friends, including the ex-assassin Gabriel Montoya. Both are running from their past. Both have blood on their hands.

The course of true love never did run smooth…

Chapter 2: Ian begins work, but the smallest things remind him of Croydon

@themtherefan @tonksbeybey-yes-and-berries @simonfarnabyslegs @moonahstone @beautifulbanana @faeryglade​ (Ask to be tagged in future updates)

Please reblog/review/comment/tag~!

#ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!! #i love this fic so much i keep going back and rereading it over and over #bill 2015

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just a normal conversation between friends

#what does it mean?????? what does it mean????????? #larry rickard #laurence rickard #six idiots

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give your sister warm oysters so she can’t go to a upcoming ball

#😖 #bbc ghosts kitty #bbc ghosts

[yespleasemrcheese]

hi! i wrote some bill 2015 stuff! read it on ao3 or under the cut :)

https://href.li/?https://archiveofourown.org/works/34650346/chapters/86264053

your darkness will be rewritten

summary: He thought he’d be used to the pain by now - he thought he was, but it never really gets any easier. He’s gotten better at pushing through it, he supposes.

A little bit about Ian's life after the events of the play.

~//~

He thought he’d be used to the pain by now - he thought he was, but it never really gets any easier. He’s gotten better at pushing through it, he supposes.

His leg feels like it's on fire, a raw, burning sensation splintering from his thigh down his calf. His blood is dyeing the green of his trousers, and, strangely, he finds himself more annoyed at the rip (not unlike the one that he had only just finished sewing up on the other leg) than the actual wound.

He’s learned to not pull the blades out (a mistake he had made the first time in blind panic, and one he would certainly not make again), so he pulls the fabric up his calves and bunches it around the rapier, ignoring his own rapid fire breaths.

He almost wishes someone, anyone, in the crowd would come to his aide, but he learned long ago that that was never the case. He wonders if he’s invisible, sometimes, because surely someone would care, right? Someone would have noticed, wouldn’t they?

They certainly don’t seem to notice as he stumbles to his feet, too enraptured by the chaos taking the stage. He slips out quietly, staggering into the candlelit hall before finally collapsing onto a hard wooden bench. The pain in his leg is white hot, a stark contrast to the dark red that flows sluggishly from it.

He reaches inside the breast of his jacket, shaking fingers reaching into the pockets he had sewn in. There’s two folded squares of cloth; he wraps the first one around where the sword enters his leg, and the second he places between his teeth, biting down firmly.

He draws the sword out slowly by the hilt, and screams through his gritted teeth. The sound of music still seeps from the hall, far too joyful to be mixing with the pained sounds that slip past the cloth in his mouth as he stuffs the other piece into the hole.

The worst part is over, he tells himself, over and over and over as he sinks down into himself, tipping his head back to rest against the tapestry behind him. The world is dark at the edges, and he feels rather cold, but it's nothing he hasn't felt before. His chest is still aching from the Earl’s rescue of Mrs. Hathaway.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, hands pressed over his leg and his eyes closed. Time feels sluggish, forcing him to crawl alongside it despite the ache of exhaustion that rests on his back like a boulder.

It’s a voice that draws him back to the present, and he startles as hands grab at his arms, pulling him to his feet. He tries to bite back his cry, but fails rather miserably. He tries to focus on what they’re saying, he recognizes their platemail and their crests - they’re Her Majesty’s guards, he needs to listen to them, but the words just buzz in his head.

Another voice cuts in, one he thinks he recognizes, and they sound... Angry?

The world spins, and he finally gives in under the boulder’s weight, going limp in the guards’ hold. He wishes the dark was a blissful respite, but he finds it’s just empty.

-//-

Anne’s heart is beating a mile a minute, almost bursting from her chest. Her husband (the damned, lovable fool) twirls her with that disarming, honest smile on his face. Their children laugh and sing nearby, and she feels so happy she could almost float.

She’s just popping out to catch her breath, away from the stifling heat that’s rising in the room, when she hears the shouts. She creeps slowly around the corner to find the Earl of Croydon’s servant - she can’t quite remember his name - being rounded up by two of Her Majesty’s men. He looks awful, skin pale and gaunt, and his eyes are half-lidded. He keeps lifting his face, as if trying to wake himself up, before dropping back down again.

A stake of pity drives through her heart, and her feet are taking her closer before she can even think about it. She cringes as she remembers the Earl’s treatment of him, using him as a human shield during his ‘rescue’. After the first dagger to the chest, she was almost certain he was dead. After the second, Anne had forced herself to come to terms with the fact that she had just watched a man be murdered, and for her sake no less.

But, he didn’t die, a miracle even with proper care. As they made their way back to the Earl’s residence, he limped along behind them, feet dragging against the cobblestones. He stumbled once or twice, but always caught himself. Given a moment of the Earl’s distraction, he leaned against a nearby stall and quickly made work tending to the words. His actions seemed almost practiced.

Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was watching a ghost. Stepping quietly towards him, she told him just that.

He laughed, if you could call it that. A soft, nervous outburst of breath that quirked at the edges of his lips as he spoke. “Well, they weren’t very talented swordsmen, I suppose.”

Then, the Earl returned to them and they continued their trek, the quiet, uneven steps that followed them the only sign that the man had survived.

Now, she feels a strange motherly urge to get those guards away from him as fast as possible.

“Hey!” She calls, and her voice betrays none of the uncertainty that she feels. “What do you think you’re doing? That man needs help, not an interrogation.”

As if on cue, the Earl’s servant crumples, a dead weight in guards’ grips. Her stomach sinks, but her faith in him stays strong. He didn’t give in before, and she wouldn’t let him now.

“This man is a known servant to a traitor of Her Majesty The Queen, he must be handled as such, ma’am. If you’ll excuse us.” The first guard says, hoisting the man up and beginning to drag him down the hall, the leather of his shoes squeaking against the tile.

“No.” She says, and it echoes in her ears. The music has yet to die down from the next room, but her voice carries loud above it. “This man is not the Earl of Croydon. He is innocent, and he is hurt. You are going to unhand him, and you are going to get him help.”

There’s a beat, where she can only hear the blood rushing in her ears. At this rate, she’s going to get herself executed, too.

But then they nod, and gruffly set the man on the nearby bench (which, she notices with a slight wave of nausea, already has a smear of blood across it).

“Do with him as you see fit. We will collect him for his trial in the morn.” They disperse quickly, almost eager to be out of her line of sight, and she breathes a deep sigh of relief. She hesitates for a moment, completely out of her depth. Should she get Bill? No, he’s with the children, she can’t disturb them (and she certainly doesn’t want them to see the state the man is in). She doesn’t know anyone else, and she certainly can’t ask the Queen, but she can’t lift him on her own, either. She darts back into the grand hall, and immediately runs smack dab into one of the actors in Bill’s play.

“Oh, so sorry, sir-” She amends hastily, moving to brush him down with nervous hands before catching herself and running them over her own dress instead.

“Ma’am,” The player corrects almost instinctively, before blinking and looking away.

“Oh! Sorry, ma’am!” She doesn’t dwell on the correction, doesn’t have the time for it. Her eyes dart nervously around the room, searching desperately for someone, anyone, who could help her.

“You are Mrs. Shakespeare, yes?” The player asks. “Is everything alright?”

“Anne, please. And, well, do you know anything about wound care?” It's a frantic bid, but right now, she’ll take any help she can get.

“Pleasure to meet you, Anne. Gabriel Montoya, at your service. Where are you hurt?” Gabriel extends her hand, and Anne takes it quickly, pulling her along.

“No, it’s not me. It’s- Ian! Yes, Ian, that’s his name, the Earl of Croydon’s servant.” They round the corner, and for one terrible moment, she almost thinks Ian is already dead, that they’re too late. He looks like the bodies that line the streets of this awful town, and her stomach flips at the thought of it.

He’s breathing, though, however faintly. She finds some scrap of hope in that.

Gabriel moves to him quickly, her brow furrowed as she examines the wound, and what looks like a scrappy attempt to stop the blood.

“Well, he’s done a good enough job for the circumstances,” she says, and her accent seems almost thicker with a concern Anne didn’t expect. “We should get him back home, where he can rest and gather his strength.”

Anne stops.

“I don’t know that he has a home. He lived with the Earl. With him gone…” She trails off, mind racing.

It’s an absurd idea, really, one more attuned to Bill’s level than her own. She hardly knows the man, if at all.

Still, she asks Gabriel to help her take him back to Bill’s apartment.

Gabriel smiles softly, and nods.

#probably future gabriel/ian #bill 2015 #bill the film #bill 2015 ian #gabriel montoya #six idiots #is this good? no #was it fun? yeah #also why is linking stuff still broken 😞

[yespleasemrcheese]

hey do u guys like yonderland

#omg! #her! #this is so good i'm <3333 #(´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) #scribe elder ho tan #yonderland

[yespleasemrcheese]

finally got to watch bill (2015), which means it's time for my favourite game: becoming too attached to larry rickard's minor characters!!

#ian bill (2015) my beloved #going through the tag and i am firmly on the ian/gabriel agenda #i love gabriel sm #bill the film #bill 2015 #bill 2015 ian #gabriel montoya #larry rickard #laurence rickard #jim howick #six idiots

[yespleasemrcheese]

was rewatching ghosts with my parents... as soon as humphrey came on screen my mother said 'you know, i dont like him. i find him kind of annoying'

unrelated but does anyone know how to disown yourself from your family

#kidding but also HUH? #how can you find him annoying he's rarely on screen 😖 #at least my both my parents' favourite character is robin #but i'm still in shock #bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts humphrey #sir humphrey bone #larry rickard #heart been broke so many times