#involving burtons word on that

[tnbc-thoughtsandheadcanons]

I'm going to take down the post, here's what I learned in this short span:

So the original post was an April Fool's Day joke, but an article got posted yesterday that must've either taken it seriously or not checked the date, and announced that an actual live-action was "in the works' at Disney, when it's not. The end of the article posts a disclaimer (below).

The author is Becky Burkett and the article was published on Disney Dining(???). Thank you, Becky, for making me lose my mind for 5 minutes.

[itsawritblr]

OK . . . about this . . .

For the Beetlejuice fans who still Follow me.

I've said before that I'm biting my nails that Burton's trailers are showing us content that he's cut from the final film (this happened A LOT with Dumbo. The trailers were better than the movie.) I've worried that the sequel will be less Shippy than it seems right now.

However . . .

I've heard from some that the sequel -- and don't quote me on this -- is Burton's reply to the musical.

Tim Burton had absolutely nothing to do with the musical (unlike the animated series, which he helped with and even supervised a lot of). He doesn't own the rights to Beetlejuice; Warner Brothers does. So WB hired playwrights who had their own agendas.

Friends of mine, actors and other creatives who regularly work on Broadway, say that, despite the producers' and actors' begging (particularly Brightman), both Burton and Michael Keaton refused to see the musical. Word was they hated how the story was rewritten, especially Beej.

I was told that if the sequel seems determined to make Beej x Lyds canon, it's very intentional. That Tim Burton and Michael Keaton "want to set the record straight."

And it may be that some fanfic reading was involved at some point. Maybe.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Elizabeth Taylor (Cleopatra, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof)—iconic actress with purple eyes and a double row of eyelashes, the real ebony dementia ravenway of old hollywood. known for her stunning tastes when it comes to jewelry and her incredible, incredible advocacy during the AIDS crisis.

Setsuko Hara (Tokyo Story, Late Spring, The Idiot)— "'The only time I saw Susan Sontag cry,' a writer once told me, his voice hushed, 'was at a screening of a Setsuko film.' What Setsuko had wasn’t glamour—she was just too sensible for that—it was glow, one that ebbed away and left you concerned, involved. You got the sense that this glow, like that of dawn, couldn’t be bought. But her smiles were human and held minute-long acts, ones with important intermissions. When she looked away, she absented herself; you felt that she’d dimmed a fire and clapped a lid on something about to spill. Over the last decade, whenever anyone brought up her lips—'Setsuko’s eternal smile,' critics said, that day we learned that she’d died—I thought instead of the thing she made us feel when she let it fall." - Moeko Fujii

This is round 5 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Elizabeth Taylor:

I've been trying to steer clear of the absurdly-big names, but damnit, those violet eyes got me. The *talent*, the *presence*, the string of marriages and (temporally out-of-bounds) work in combating AIDS and pioneering in the concept of the celebrity fragrance line.

Not only did she have gorgeous violet eyes and lashes for days and one of the hottest voices ever, she was also a big supporter of the gay community

Child actress turned starlet, Liz dominated films as one of the greatest screen legends of classic hollywood. If your protagonist has violet eyes, they're imitating hers.

A Legend. She was serving milf rage in Whos Afraid Of Virginia Woolf. A Star in every sense of the word.

She was renowned for the beauty of her eyes; they were a dark blue but could look violet in certain lighting, something that photographers would actually touch up to look even more so in pictures. But even more striking was a genetic mutation that gave her a double row of eyelashes. She was also famed for her string of husbands -- 8 marriages to 7 men. Two-time hubby Richard Burton once said she was “a wildly exciting love-mistress… beautiful beyond the dreams of pornography.”

Her EYES. Early and loud support for gay rights and AIDS victims. Married a bunch of hot dudes, Burton twice!

just look at her. she's gorgeous. there's a video somewhere of her applying her eyeliner in the mirror and I think about it all the time

THE Hollywood actress of all time. Not only was she known for her long dark locks and blue-violet eyes, she also had one of the wildest life stories ever….. She’s Carrie Fisher’s stepmother because her father Eddie Fisher cheated on Debbie Reynolds with Liz. She was knighted as a dame of England. She was married to seven different men, one of them twice. She was also very kindhearted and did a lot of charity activism.

Asides from being an iconic actor, she did a lot of philanthropy and co founded the American Foundation for AIDS research. She’s sometimes considered one of the last great stars of old hollywood

Setsuko Hara:

One of the best Japanese actresses of all time; a symbol of the golden era of Japanese cinema of the 1950s After seeing a Setsuko Hara film, the novelist Shūsaku Endō wrote: "We would sigh or let out a great breath from the depths of our hearts, for what we felt was precisely this: Can it be possible that there is such a woman in this world?"

One of the greatest Japanese actresses of all time!! Best known for acting in many of Yasujiro Ozu's films of the 40s and 50s. Also she has a stunning smile and beautiful charm!

Linked gifset

Linked gifset 2

She's considered by some to be the greatest Japanese actress of all time! In Kurosawa's The Idiot she haunts the screen, and TOTALLY steals the show from Mifune every time she appears.

She's considered by some to be the greatest Japanese actress of all time! In Kurosawa's The Idiot she haunts the screen, and TOTALLY steals the show from Mifune every time she appears.

"No other actor has ever mastered the art of the smile to the same extent as Setsuko Hara (1920–2015), a celebrated star and highly regarded idol who was one of the outstanding actors of 40s and 50s Japanese cinema. Her radiant smile floods whole scenes and at times cautiously undermines the expectations made of her in coy, ironic fashion. Yet her smile's impressive range also encompasses its darker shades: Hara's delicate, dignified, melancholy smile with which she responds to disappointments, papers over the emotions churning under the surface, and flanks life's sobering realizations. Her smiles don't just function as a condensed version of her ever-precise, expressive, yet understated acting ability, they also allow the very essence of the films they appear in to shine through for a brief moment, often studies of the everyday, post-war dramas which revolve around the break-up of family structures or the failure of marriages. Her performances tread a fine line between social expectation and personal desire in post-war Japan, as Hara attempts to lay claim to the autonomy of the female characters she plays – frequently with a smile." [link]

Leading lady of classic Japanese cinema with a million dollar smile

Maybe the most iconic Japanese actress ever? She rose to fame making films with Yasujiro Ozu, becoming one of the most well-known and beloved actresses in Japan, working from the 30s through the 60s in over 100 hundred. She is still considered one of the greatest Japanese actresses ever, and in my opinion, just one of the greatest actresses of all time. And she was HOT! Satoshi Kon's film Millennium Actress was largely based on her life and her career.

[moseslikellamas]

♱𖣂 Redfork Menace ♱𖣂 pt.2

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!OC

Summary - Following the shock of a lifetime while out scouting the borderlands, Shanda deals with the fallout of her actions and makes plans to repeat the same mistakes.

Warnings - fem!reader, strained family dynamics, adult language, obsessive behavior, reckless behavior, braindead behavior, not cannon compliant, kieran burton fancast,

Word count 2.1k

2/6 currently

!Minors DNI!

Ahaha, this is going to be a pretty slow burn type of deal I think. But I am unhinged and cranked out another one before work 😤👍🏻🗣️ Next chapter will be more exciting, I promise. Also everyone involved in any romance is of age of course bc I don’t care about canon and no child marriages here.

Shanda didn’t stop running until she was back home in her own chambers. Shutting her door quietly, she stripped her soaked clothes off. The cloak would have to be mended and she would have to convince Royce, her younger brother, to take her out riding to cover for the rip. That would cost her but it was better than the alternative. Shivering, she quickly dressed for sleep before adding more logs to the dying fire in her harth, then seated herself in front of the flames. Only then did she allow her mind to wander back to the horrible encounter she’d just experienced. Why was the Blackwood heir on guard duty in the borderlands? It didn’t make any sense even if he had spoken the truth earlier. She moved like a shadow but no woman can be invisible. To send Benjicot to deal with a once off rogue spy was a move that was so strange it made her head spin.

Tomorrow she would talk to Martyn first, tell him mostly the truth of what happened and then convince him to let her out again. She had a good start on information for swaying her father but it wasn’t enough. If she went with tales of the heir and half heard secrets, he’d lose his mind at her irresponsibility. But if she found out what the heir was up to and confirmed what real problem the Blackwoods were having, well then he might see reason. He might for once appreciate having a slippery sneaking daughter who doesn’t know how to mind her own business.

Shanda awoke with a start, nearly toppling herself from the chair she’d fallen asleep in. No light shone in from the windows, her room was damp and muggy. Her night clothes stuck to her in an uncomfortable manner, sweat beaded on her brow as she rose to wash and dress for the day. The riverlands were often damp, hot and moist, the air thick with water. Gazing out the window she saw the torches lit and in the distance gathering clouds like a bruise against the gray sky.

Leaving her room, Shanda slowly made her way downstairs. She stopped along the way to make a comment to anyone passing by, making a point to be seen by many and accounted for undoubtedly. Then without pausing in the main hall, headed straight out into the yard to find Martyn. The guard shift was up at first light and though there was no light outside, she guessed it had only been a few minutes since the shift changed.

Martyn was waiting for her outside of the barracks and he motioned for her to walk with him. They began to circle around the yard, walking quietly and slowly together. Her brother was a short man barely an inch taller than her but he had eyes like a hawk and could shoot a field mouse clean nearly a mile away. Which was why he was always stuck on guard duty.

“Well out with it. I’ve gotta have a sleep too, you know?”

Shanda hesitated. What exactly was she going to tell him? ‘Hey so I got into a knockdown fight with the Blackwood heir last night who threatened to arrest me by the way for a made up list of crimes’. Well mostly made up crimes. That didn’t sound like a good idea.

Martyn spoke in her silence, “Did you bring the knife back?”

Shanda inhaled sharply, grimacing.

“About that, I maybe sort of-“

He cut her off, “Shanda please tell me you didn’t leave it.”

“I didn’t leave it per say. It was jostled from my hands, let's say instead.”

The look Martyn gave her was incredulous to the point of absurdity and it took all of her willpower not to laugh.

“Okay listen. Last night I found out the Blackwood heir has been relegated to guard duty. Overheard an argument between him and another guard.” She glanced around before continuing, the yard was still mostly deserted. “They were arguing about crimes being committed on their lands. I don’t know what crimes but it didn’t sound like they were too happy about it.”

“Benjicot was on guard duty? Wait, and you said the knife was… Did you fight the heir to Raventree?”

Shanda pointedly avoided looking her brother in the eye, a bit embarrassed of her behavior in the light of day.

“To be fair, I didn’t know it was Benjicot. I thought it was just some nameless guard!” She hissed agitated at having been caught in such a situation.

“Shanda, do you have any sense? The mother save you, I certainly can’t! If father were to find out...”

He didn’t have to finish that sentence. Shanda had been walking on thin ice lately. But it wasn’t her fault her father had no vision for house Bracken. She didn’t want to play second fiddle to the Blackwoods for the rest of her life. But he was set in his ways at his age and that meant ‘no sneaking into the borderlands to spy on our sworn rivals’. A foolish and dangerous act that she just couldn’t abide. Hence the sneaking tomfoolery.

“Look I need to get the knife back and I need to figure out what they’re up to. Surely this is suspicious behavior!”

Martyn only shook his head looking thoughtful.

“He could just be doing rounds.”

“In the borderlands? You don’t see our father wasting you there, why would they?”

Sighing heavily he replied, “I don’t know dear sister and I’m too tired to care. Don’t do anything stupid and I’ll see about getting you out again.”

Despite her best efforts her face still lit up at his proclamation.

“No promises. Now go away and annoy someone else for a change huh?”

“Sure thing Martyn. Sleep well!”

Waving him off, she waited til Martyn was out of sight before booking it to the stables. It was time to convince Royce now. A much harder brother to move. Royce was three years younger than her and though seventeen, still incredibly immature. Which was why he was in the stables and wifeless. Not that she had a better track record when it came to potential suitors but she could sympathize with women not wanting to spend a significant amount of time around him.

Entering the stables, Shanda could smell the fresh hay that was being spread out. Reminding her of her own duties she was neglecting while outside brother negotiating. The tasks would hold, this could not.

“Royce? Are you here?”

“No, go away.”

Groaning and already regretting the decision to talk to him, she made her way back towards the corral.

“Wonderful to see you brother.”

“As wonderful as an arrow in the eye. What do you want?”

Royce sat on a barrel, cutting an apple open and eating slices from the blade. In the distance, sounds of horses whinnying could be heard. Shanda decided to cut the pleasantries and get to the point.

“I want you to take me riding. Name your price.”

He smirked, weighing the statement while continuing to eat the apple. Mouth half full he said, “Get me out of the Sept gathering.”

She stood there mouth half agape. Get him out of the mourning ceremony? Genuinely speechless, she just stared at him for a full moment before shaking her head and gathering her thoughts.

“Right. That isn’t for a fortnight though and I need to go riding soon.”

He shrugged.

“Ugh. What else do you want?It’s already going to take a miracle to get you out of the ceremony. Which you should go to. ” She pinched the skin in between her eyes, exasperated.

“Well you shouldn’t sneak out at night but then neither of us is exactly the picture of a perfect person.”

That made her look up. “How did you..? Nevermind, mind your own business Royce. Figure out your price, we ride today. I don’t care if it storms, all the better. I’ll be back after dusk.”

Not bothering to hear his reply she left in a huff. Crossing the yard swiftly she made her way back inside, heading up the stairs into the library tower. Arriving in the room, the familiar sight of rows and rows of shelves met her eyes. Shanda takes the first real deep breath she’s had since yesterday as she sits at her desk. Already two messages have arrived, one about the recent steel shipment that she files away for a conversation with her father. The other is a letter from another of her brothers, Gerald who was currently doing bridge repairs.

Neither captures her attention and soon she finds herself in front of the window gazing out. Not at the yard below but at the trees in the distance. The leaves shimmer and twist in the blowing breeze, almost as if dancing to a hypnotic rhythm. What is the heir doing in the borderlands? The tall grass looks dark and forbidding, jutting up in front of the keep, weaving and swaying back and forth. How long has he been on guard duty? The clouds now a deep rolling luster of plum, illuminate as lightning strikes down the sky. Silently and slowly the rain begins to fall resolute. Would they put him on guard two nights in a row?

The first slow roll of thunder startles her back into the present moment. It didn’t matter, she decided, if he was on guard or not. She had to go back tonight, without Martyn. She’d wait longer, spend the day leisurely and then steal out in the dead of night. It was, of course, a foolish plan. That didn’t matter though, she’d be more prepared tonight and have a solid alibi lined up. It would be more foolish to waste this golden opportunity. All she had to do was make it through dinner, ride out with Royce, avoid martin and then sneak out of the yard tonight. After that she hoped only to find her knife and continue reconnaissance from a safe distance. Easy peasy right?

It was not so. The gods must truly find the riverlanders to be the most accursed of all beings. As the day progressed the storm grew to such a height it would’ve been impossible to ride out in it. It built much like it had the night before, growing to a cloying suffocating state that drenched any and everything. But it had given her an excuse to pull the ripped cloak out and wear it outside as she raced to meet Royce in the stables. Unable to ride didn’t mean he was unable to assist her in this endeavor. All she needed was a warm body and a viable excuse for why her very nice cloak had a nasty gash through the side.

The storm raged against the stables and the horses were restless in their stalls. Royce was sitting, relatively dry she noted, on a stack of hay.

“No riding out in this, sister.”

Shanda smiled, nodding. “I agree.” Then she grabbed a horse shoeing tool off the table and ripped at the already torn cloak.

Satisfied it looked like she’d clumsily tripped into a workbench and once stuck had ripped herself free of it. It was believable enough and she’d already made a deal with Royce for his support should she be questioned too much about it.

“No worries brother. We spent the evening playing games and watching the storm clouds. After which I tripped and ripped my cloak. Very sad and wholly unavoidable.”

“Whatever. Just get me out of the ceremony.”

“Of course. Anyway, I’m going to my room now.”

Departing from the stables, she was immediately soaked through but she did not return to her chambers or even the main keep. Instead she made her way into their private sept. It was freezing and the dim light threw wild shadows against the white stone walls. Only a few small candles lent any light to the room but she was unafraid, striding in and standing before the one stained glass window they owned. On it was a rainstorm depicted and in the dim flickering light the window shone iridescent. The window also depicted a large tree, white with branches ever reaching up. She felt small in the shadow of it.

“Can I help you dear?”

The scratchy voice of old septa Beck made her jump. Her head was in knots today. Why had she come here again? She couldn’t remember. Did she even have a reason? She glanced back at the window, forgetting about the septa. Lightning flashed and the leaves on the window seemed to weep red in the light.

“No. No thanks, Septa Beck. I was just saying a quick prayer before bed.” Shanda smiled gently at her before casting the window one last look and leaving the sept. From there she did return to her chambers, it was time to prepare and plan

Pt.3

[jrob64]

Hook's First Trick or Treat (Reposted with new art!)

A CS Canon Compliant Story for CS Spooky Season/Autumnal Bingo

I'm jumping on the hayride wagon and giving you my first offering for Spooky Season/Autumnal Bingo, the brainchild of @hollyethecurious. Everyone owes her a big thank you for inspiring a fair few people to write some warm, seasonal tales and art for our favorite show and couple. Everything posted for the event can be found in this collection on Ao3.

I also owe thanks to @kmomof4 for checking over this story.

**Extra special thanks to @motherkatereloyshipper for the spectacular manips of Henry, Emma & Killian in their costumes!**

Summary: Hook has his first experience Trick or Treating in Storybrooke.

Rating: T

Words: 2542

Can also be read on Ao3 and ffn

*********

“Are you going trick or treating with us next Saturday, Hook?” Henry asked.

Killian looked up at the boy from where he sat on the sofa beside Emma. The three of them had just finished watching The Nightmare Before Christmas together at the loft, sharing a huge bowl of popcorn and sipping mugs of warm apple cider. Hook hadn’t been impressed with the drink until he enhanced it with rum.

The whole town was enjoying the peace which came with the banishment of Gold at the town line three weeks ago. Mary Margaret, David and baby Neal were currently on a weekend away at a small cabin in the woods, allowing Emma to have the loft to herself for a few days. She and Henry immediately invited Killian over for a movie marathon on Friday night, culminating with the Tim Burton classic.

“Do you mean there is such a thing as trick or treat, such as in the movie?”

“Yeah, but in Storybrooke, we never had it until after the curse broke,” Henry explained.

“Why is it called ‘trick or treat'?” Killian inquired.

Emma reached over and linked her hand with his. “Back when it started, if a child knocked on a person’s door and they didn’t give them a treat, the child played a trick on them. These days, it’s just kids dressing up in costumes and going door to door, asking for candy. It doesn’t really involve tricks any more.”

“So it’s a children’s holiday?”

“Not necessarily. Anybody can dress up, but usually only the kids get candy.”

“Last year, Dr. Hopper dressed as Paul Bunyan and had Pongo dressed as Babe, the big blue ox. They sat outside his house and passed out candy,” Henry explained. “Grandma and Grandpa were Mickey and Minnie Mouse. Remember, Mom?”

“How could I forget? Dad kept talking in that squeaky voice the whole evening, which made Mom giggle. It was cute at first, but got annoying before long.”

“They won cutest costumes at the Halloween party, though.”

“There’s a party, too?” Killian asked.

“Just a get together at Granny’s after trick or treating wraps up,” Emma said. “Granny gives out prizes for cutest, scariest, most original, and best group costume. She makes popcorn balls and caramel apples and has the diner very elaborately decorated for Halloween.”

“So will you go with us?” Henry asked again.

“Aye, it sounds like fun.”

“Awesome!” Henry exclaimed. “Are you going to dress up?”

“He can dress as a modern man, since he already spent hundreds of years dressed as a pirate,” Emma smirked.

“Perhaps your father will allow me to borrow some of his Prince Charming garb,” Killian teased.

“You looking like my father would give me nightmares,” Emma said, wryly.

Hook and Henry laughed. “What will you be wearing?” Hook asked the boy.

“I’m gonna be Legolas, from Lord of the Rings. Wanna see my costume?”

“Of course.”

Henry dashed over to the stairs and bounded up them, two at a time.

“Will you be dressing up, Swan?”

“Yeah, but I haven’t figured out what to wear yet.”

He leaned over and nuzzled his nose behind her ear, then murmured, “Pity you didn’t bring that wench dress home with you when we returned from the past.”

Emma shivered involuntarily. “I’m not sure that would have been appropriate to wear around my son.”

“You could always wear it when it’s just the two of us.”

“Those moments are few and far…”

“Here it is!” Henry shouted, jumping down the last three steps with the costume in his arms.

“The kid is proving my point,” Emma whispered.

Killian chuckled before turning his attention to Henry, who was holding up the costume. “Grandma is going to let me borrow her bow and quiver of arrows, and Ruby loaned me a long, blonde wig,” he said proudly.

Killian got up and walked over, using his hand and hook to stretch out the cloak and get a better look. “It’s quite handsome, lad.”

“Thanks! Granny made it for me. She might be able to make you something before next Saturday. She made this in one day.”

“I’ll put some thought into it,” Killian promised.

“Hey! Maybe you could be Aragorn and Mom could be Arwen. Wouldn’t that be cool?”

“Very, um…cool,” Killian agreed, unused to using the jargon, but pleased that Henry wanted to include him in his costume plans.

“Orrrr,” Henry said with a mischievous grin, “maybe Hook should be Legolas, since he already has the elf ears.”

Emma laughed, while Killian rolled his eyes.

They continued to discuss their costumes until Emma declared it was time for Henry to go to bed. After he went upstairs, Emma and Killian remained on the sofa, talking quietly and kissing. When they were sure Henry was sound asleep, they took advantage of Emma’s parents being absent from the loft.

*********

“Mom, are you ready yet?” Henry called. “All the good candy is going to be gone if we don’t leave pretty soon!”

Emma emerged from the bathroom, placing a large hoop earring into her lobe. “Calm down, kid. Trick or treating doesn’t even start for…” she checked the clock on the wall in the kitchen, “ten minutes.”

“Is Killian coming here or are we meeting him at the boarding…”

He was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Guess that answers your question,” she said, grinning at her son as she moved to open the door.

When she did, she was momentarily taken aback at the figure on the other side. Killian was dressed as the sexy ranger Aragorn head to toe, complete with crown, sword and chainmail armor.

“Wow!” Emma exclaimed. “You look amazing! Where did you find everything for that costume?”

Killian didn’t answer for several seconds, his eyes roaming up and down Emma’s green gown with silver accents. It was nearly an exact replica of Arwen’s in the coronation scene from Return of the King. Marco had even fashioned the silver crown, which sat atop the black wig she wore.

“Swan, you look…words fail me,” he managed to say, obviously gobsmacked.

“Yeah, yeah, we all look great,” Henry grumbled. “Can we go now?”

Killian entered the loft and offered his arm to Emma. “Shall we, milady?”

They trekked down the steps, being careful not to trip over their long cloaks.

“Seriously, where did you find all of that stuff?” Emma asked again, once they were outside.

“Belle let me look through Gold’s shop. I found most of it in there,” Killian said, holding his arm out to examine the chainmail. “Lady Lucas did create the cloak for me, though.”

“Well, it turned out fantastic. I’ve always had a bit of a crush on Aragorn and seeing you dressed like him is…” She pinched her fingers together, brought them to her lips, kissed them, then flicked her wrist and spread her fingers apart as if she was throwing the kiss into the air.

“What exactly does that gesture mean?” he asked.

“Chef’s kiss. It means it’s perfect and I love it.”

“Ah, I see. I’m very happy you approve. Meanwhile, your costume is absolutely magnificent. Did Granny make it?”

“This is actually one of my mother’s capes and a gown she brought from the Enchanted Forest. Granny altered it and added the silver embellishments. It turned out pretty good.”

“‘Pretty good’ is a vast understatement, Love. It truly enhances your beauty. I hope you will wear it again once this trick or treating is over.”

Emma laughed. “Storybrooke doesn’t really have a place where I can wear this type of gown.”

Killian leaned in to whisper in her ear. “It looks lovely on you, but it would also look lovely on my bedroom floor.”

“You know that hasn’t worked out well for us in the past because of Granny’s werewolf hearing.”

“Hmmm. I guess we’ll just have to come up with a way to keep you quiet while you’re in the throes of passion, Love.”

“I’m not the only one who makes noise. If you recall, you’re the one who…”

“Would you two stop being all lovey-dovey and come on?” Henry called over his shoulder.

Emma and Killian exchanged amused glances and increased their pace.

They soon began seeing other costumed townspeople walking up and down the sidewalks. Children were racing up on porches, knocking and shrieking “Trick or treat!” as soon as the doors opened.

Henry joined the fray while Emma and Killian remained on the sidewalk, heads swiveling to take in all of the colorful, creative costumes on both the children and their parents. As they moved closer to the center of town, Emma noticed Killian had become rather quiet. While earlier, he was making astute and amusing observations about the costumes, now he barely spoke a word. She also noted the puzzled and somewhat sad expression he wore.

By the time they reached the clock tower, Emma was beginning to worry about her boyfriend. He didn’t seem to be having any fun and she had to practically drag him along from one place to another. Even seeing Archie dressed as Woody, the cowboy from the Toy Story movies, with Pongo in a Slinky Dog costume didn’t cheer him up.

Henry was oblivious to Hook’s discomfort, too busy sprinting from house to house and business to business with his bulging treat bag. When he ran up to them and breathlessly asked if he could finish trick or treating with his friends and join them at Granny’s later, Emma readily agreed. She was eager to go somewhere private and talk to Killian, hopefully finding out what was bothering him.

Grabbing his hand, she pulled him into a nearby alley. Fully aware that asking him if he was alright would lead to him insisting he was fine, she cut to the chase. “Hey, Killian, tell me what’s wrong. And don’t say nothing, because I can read you like an open book, too.”

He sighed heavily and looked down, studying his boots for several seconds. Then he raised his head and used his hook to gesture toward the street. “What do you see out there, Swan?”

Emma kept her eyes on him for another moment or two before turning to look at the chaotic scene. “I see a bunch of kids dressed in costumes, running around like maniacs, chasing a week-long sugar high. I also see silly-looking adults who dressed up just to please their kids.”

“Do you know what I see?”

“You don’t see the same thing?”

“Aye, but it seems many people, young and old, are dressed as pirates.”

“Yeah, pirates are always a popular costume choice for Halloween. You should take that as a compliment. You know what they say - imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“Look closer, Swan. The majority of them have a plastic hook over their hand.”

Emma turned to face him. “That bothers you?” she asked softly.

He gave a slight shrug. “Wouldn’t it bother you if people made fun of your…disability?”

Emma felt like kicking herself. Why had she failed to recognize the possibility that he would interpret the costume accessory to be a source of mockery?

“Oh, Killian,” she said. “I don’t think they’re making fun of you. It’s just that you’re one of the only pirates they know and you have a hook. I saw a couple of them with red knit hats like Smee’s.”

“A hat is quite different from my hook. I wear it out of necessity. I find it insulting that they would treat it as a source of amusement.”

Emma saw the same hurt in Killian’s eyes that she had seen on a few occasions when he felt inadequate because he lacked a hand. She reached up to cup his face, brushing her thumbs over his cheekbones. “Do you remember when we went out on our first date? When you made that deal with Gold to give you your hand back?”

“Of course. I felt like a whole man for the first time in centuries.”

“When you gave me that rose, I didn’t even realize you were using your hand until my mother brought it to my attention.”

“That only proves you weren’t being very observant,” he grumbled.

“No, it shows that it doesn’t matter to me whether you have a hook or a hand. I see you for the person you are - the sweet, thoughtful, protective, devilishly handsome man who won my heart.” She pushed up to her toes and kissed him, then murmured against his lips, “Besides, you’re very proficient with that hook in certain…intimate situations.”

A grin spread across his face. ��You do seem to enjoy me wearing it on those occasions.”

“Mmhmm, and I don’t consider it a disability because you’ve definitely proven you have a lot of ability to use it for very enjoyable purposes.”

Killian ran his nose along the slope of her throat. “Perhaps I’ll show you just how proficient I am with it later tonight.”

Emma bit her bottom lip. “I have been practicing a silencing spell that would soundproof your room. Do you, uh…would you like for me to try it tonight?”

“Aye, Love,” he murmured, nibbling on her earlobe.

“What if it…doesn’t work?” she gasped.

“Well, then, I suppose I’ll have to turn my charm on Lady Lucas to encourage her to ignore what she hears.”

Emma’s giggle was cut short by Henry asking, “Are you guys coming to the party? I want to win best group costume.”

They hadn’t heard him approach and both jumped slightly. Emma’s face reddened immediately and Hook took pleasure in seeing the color spread as far down as the widely scooped neck of her gown.

“We’ll be right there, lad. Just give us a minute to finish our…discussion.”

Henry rolled his eyes. “I’m not stupid. I know you guys came in here to make out. Stop being gross and come on.” He turned on his heel and headed toward the diner.

Emma looked at Killian with a mischievous grin. “My dad’s right - it’s quite satisfying to be able to embarrass my kid. But we better go. If we miss Granny giving out the prizes, he’s never gonna forgive us.”

Killian grimaced slightly. “I’ll be along in a minute. I just need to…”

Understanding suddenly dawned on Emma. She glanced down, then back up, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess it wouldn’t do for Aragorn to win best costume while sporting a very prominent bulge in his trousers!”

*********

They made it to the judging in time and unanimously won the award for best group costume. Once the party wound down, Emma said goodnight to Henry and watched him leave with Regina, gripping his huge bag of candy and the trophy. Then she and Killian covertly left the diner to slip off to his room in the boarding house.

Emma performed the silencing spell to perfection, despite her pirate trying to distract her in the most pleasurable of ways. And Killian was correct - Emma’s dress did look fetching on his bedroom floor, but not as fetching as the woman who had worn it, writhing and moaning beneath him as he showed her new tricks with his hook.

Afterwards, they agreed their lovemaking was the best treat of the day.

*********

Thank you for reading! Happy Autumn!

@qualitycoffeethings @grimmswan @cs-rylie @wyntereyez @kmomof4

@hookedmom @ultraluckycatnd @paradiselady19 @xarandomdreamx @motherkatereloyshipper

@lfh1226-linda @pawshapedheart @vampcoffeegyrl23 @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic

@eleveneitherway @elfiola @kday426 @julieenchanted-swans @gingerchangeling

@andiirivera @djlbg @jonesfandomfanatic @snowbellewells @anmylica

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @zaharadessert @lyssapup27

@undercaffinatednightmare @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @xsajx @jackieorioncat

@teamhook @soniccat @jarienn972 @softkilly @kymbersmith-90

@apiratewhopines @hollyethecurious @laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate

@caught-in-the-filter @stahlop @veryverynotgoodwrites @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite

@whimsicallyenchantedrose @earanemith @superchocovian @idristardis @captainswan-kellie

@beckettj @killihan-jones

[itsyoung8]

My theories in Bully #2

Bonjour ou bonsoir! It all depends on where you are reading this post. Today I wanted to share with you some of my theories that I had during this time of absence.

WARNING: this post is going to be about sex at some point. If you are young and/or uncomfortable with this topic, please do not read. Even if these are soft words, I still prefer to warn since many here are minors

Bryce occupies a fairly important place in the hierarchy of preppies, contrary to what one might think. He is the second right hand man of Derby, after Bif, which puts him quite high compared to the others and especially Tad. What makes me say this is that, during the fight against Russell in the hole and during the fight against Derby during the complete chaos, Bryce is on Derby's side instead of Bif. I think when Bif is not able to be Derby's right-hand man, Bryce replaces him. Bif and Bryce share the same statistics as Bif in boxing as well as his fighting style and health bar (source: Bryce's wiki profile). Thus, for Derby, Bryce is the most suitable to replace Bif when the latter is not available. Derby wouldn't take someone who couldn't provide his physical protection like Tad for example. This is why Bryce is above Tad in the hierarchy although he does not give orders at any point in the game or have any importance in the story.

The choice to put Zoe as Jimmy's last girlfriend is well thought out. In each chapter, Jimmy ends up dating a girl but breaks up with her in the next chapter to date another. This stops from the moment he dates Zoe at the end of Chapter 5. Every girl before Zoe had something that made Jimmy get tired of her: too involved in studies for Beatrice, too concerned about her social status for Pinky, too manipulative for Lola, and too obsessed with her beauty and popularity for Mandy. Zoe is Jimmy's last girlfriend and the one he will stay with until the end of his life. Jimmy sees that it's finally the right one since she's not too much like this or too much like that. This is why he will only confess his love to her (see scene when we start the Complete Mahyem mission) since he judges her as the right person. This explains why, I think, the choice of Zoe as the last girlfriend is thoughtful.

!!WARNING: IN THE THEORY THAT FOLLOWS, THE DESIGNATION OF SEX WILL BE PRESENT!!

Wade is scared of being in a romantic relationship with a girl because he doesn't want to end up like his parents, which is to say divorced. We can rely on this line: "Sure I'll ask her out one day, then we'll wind up being married and divorced, just like ma and pa." This fear pushes him to only want to have sexual relations with girls since this does not necessarily involve a romantic relationship. Moreover, some lines of Wade's dialogues can show us that he is only attracted by this as: "How can I get in her pants? Cologne, dad always wears cologne." and "My dad says he's gonna buy me some condoms so I can like... do it with chicks, you know?". (Feel free to tell me if I'm wrong about the first line of dialogue the English speakers. To me, it shows that Wade wants sex but maybe I'm wrong)

Gurney managed to infiltrate the school, to set fire to the gymnasium, thanks to Gary. When you read the prefects' file, you can see that they are corrupt (except for Max perhaps). It can then be assumed that Gary paid them in exchange for letting Gurney into the school to access the gymnasium. You will tell me "yes, but Gurney may also have gone through the shortcuts near the asylum and which are connected to the school". It can be possible. But I have the impression that only Jimmy knows these shortcuts because, for a long time, they were blocked by stones or barriers. So in my opinion, Gurney went through the entrance of the school thanks to Gary.

Ricky's hatred of jocks isn't just because his ex probably left him for a jock. It is known that Ricky is one of the only students at Bulloworth Academy to openly denounce Mr. Burton's behavior towards the girls at the school. It is also known that most jocks are very fond of Burton since it provides them with steroids and/or has done them no harm. So, when the Zoe vs. Burton affair breaks out, the jocks come to Burton's defense and somehow save him from being fired. Ricky seeing this, has an even stronger hatred for jocks.

In Damon's wiki page, it says that he holds a grudge against the preppies. For me, it would be due to money. Damon holds a grudge against them because, prior to the main story, Damon and the preppies were allegedly involved in something in which the preppies used the money to achieve their end, leaving Damon to be the big loser in that story. This grudge is the same as the one against Ted but for the same reasons. He holds a grudge against Ted because he was chosen to be the quarterback only because he was the most popular in the school, leaving Damon as the big loser. That's why Damon spits on Ted's back in the process. Damon holds a grudge against the preppies and Ted because they got what they want easily, unlike Damon who works hard to get nothing in the end.

This is the end of this second post on my theories. Thanks for reading to the end! Au revoir!

[beasiannow]

As a working-class girl, Melody Burton should have known better than to get involved with a bunch of upper-class aristos in the quote Black Arts end quote.

But they made it sound like such fun. Anyway, how was someone working in a pub like her going to get a chance to hang with the rich and wild?

So, when things got to the point that they wanted her to take part in one of their secret rites, being, as they said, “an irreplaceable and vital component in a major magical working, " she agreed without having a clue what her part might be.

Unknown to Melody, the Sombercrofts and their magical group had plans for her that she was unaware of. The rite they had her take part in was designed to incarnate a powerful sorceress from ancient China who was either a woman who became a goddess or a dragon who became a woman.

Either way, the Sombercrofts, and their followers intended to implant the spirit of this old being into Melody and then use and command her to grant them power, privilege, and wealth beyond imagining.

The summoning of the age-old being proved more successful than any of them imagined it would be. Before the group's eyes, Melody Burton transformed into the very form of Madame Yu Jiàn Xīn, “ Jade Sword Heart,” who had not been seen on Earth for almost two thousand years.

The Sombercrofts lost no time in commanding she bow to their will.

“Stupid Gweilo!” said Madame Yu. “You don’t think I haven’t been keeping up with what you’ve been up to the last few centuries? I’m not the one going to be serving around here.”

With a gesture and a few words of power, she turned the whole Sombercroft group into her serving girls.

She then split herself from Melody Burton, returning her to her former self.

She having sympathy for her Yu having started as a serving wench in the Han Dynasty before becoming a sorceress.

She then sent her on her way with a large valise full of the former Sumbercroft’s money.

Madame Yu Jiàn Xīn then started to plan what she would get herself up to next.

[junipers-archive]

Happy Halloween

Word Count: 900

Includes: fluff, tooth rotting fluff really; about Spencer and reader on Halloween night enjoying whatever Spencer has planned!! (also ik its not halloween but in my head it always is.)

You hadn't exactly planned the night. In fact, you'd left it up to Spencer to decide how you'd spend you halloween together.

This of course landed you with tons of unanswered questions as you followed him out of the car, trailing behind him cautiously since he was known for acting particularly spooky near the holiday.

Meaning he was more likely to jump scare whoever he was with at the time.

This year you'd both agreed to dress up as Emily and Victor from the corpse bride, him because he had an affinity for Tim Burtons films and you because it had always been one your favorites as a kid.

However as your dress begins to drag, you get closer to what looks like the end of the parking lot, and you begin to hear carnival music you regret your choice of outfit just slightly.

"Spence where are we?"you question, stopping in your tracks.

He looks back at you, smiling, "Trust me?"

You take a few steps forward linking arms with him then, "Always."

As it turns out, you find he had taken you to Washington's "Spooktacular Carnival" event in one of the many parks nearby. As you entered you were both greeted by a Man dressed as Frankenstein who only grunted and pointed when you asked where you could get a map.

From there you both explored to your free will, first stopping at one of the many food trucks nearby to "aquire sustanacance for the spookiest night ever" as Spencer put it. You marveled at the food given to you seeing as it was halloween themed and your tacos looked as though they were somebody's guts and his burrito looked like the remains of someone's flesh.

Though provoking less than hungry appetites within you, you ate your meals and went on your way, stopping by a myriad of carnival-turned-halloween games,

such as "Witches brew" which involved you making your own liquid nitrogen ice cream,"The butcher shop" in which you both entered a pumpkin carving contest and the "Mummy's Demise" in which you happily wrapped your boyfriend in toilet paper, blind folded him and then guided him through a maze filled with 'ghouls and monsters of the undead'.

To say the least many games such as these drained the life out of you, which Spencer proudly stated was the "point of hallow's eve!"

Your favorite game over all though had to be the apple bobbing contest in which Spencer, being Spencer who was so dear of Halloween, dunked almost his entire upper-body into the barrel of water searching for the apples.

Completely forgetting, of course, that he had put makeup on earlier that night to maintain his "dead-ish" look.

After, if not console him on his loss in the contest but also appease your once more growling stomach, you bought some cotton candy for the two of you, which was needlessly to say, being advertised as the brains of the Walking Dead.

By the end of the night you had explored every inch of the carnival, winning the pumpkin contest and getting the two top prizes, a giant bag of candy, which Spencer took excitedly and a Sephora gift card, which you also accepted with glee.

The last stop, was as both of you had been referring to it all night "the big Kahunna", aka the Haunted House. The line was so long you both had decided to buy the tickets for the latest time, there was no avoiding it now. Both your scaredy-cat butts were about to be spooked.

"Y/n I know you're tired...we can just go home." Pleaded Spencer, but you wouldn't let him chicken out this late in the game.

So, you linked arms with him perhaps for the last time that night and stepped up, giving a woman dressed as The bride of Chucky your tickets while Chucky, which you assumed was her date, led you to the entrance.

To say the least you were jump-scared more than once going into the house with was decorated in an old Victorian fashion that gave you the creeps. As Spencer nervously racked his brain for facts to list off about the time era and how Halloween was celebrated in Victorian England, which you learned was throwing lavish parties including intricate rituals and everyone involved.

You however also learned that he is terrified of spiders more than any of the creatures that were popping out at you. And that you were more genius than your genius for bringing a camera in to record his reactions, earning you tons of footage of his albeit cute but equally laughable surprised face.

The haunted house led you guys through a series of rooms, including scenes played out of 'Frankensteins creation', 'Dracula's breaking', 'The Shining's' most origonal scene and more.

Some were even interactive which as Spencer thoroughly enjoyed, as you were more happy to watch the scenes play by.

In the end, you walked out covered in fake blood, spider webs and god knows what they threw at you, grinning like idiots. But never once had you felt un-safe with him beside you, still with your arms linked you walked back to the car together, hands filled with the trinkets and treats gathered that night.

Just before you got to the car he turned to you still grinning, kissed your temple and whispered "Happy Halloween".

[dreamingkitsunewrites]

🎃October is here: Halloween is Near!🎃

Halloween Special Updates

Hello everyone! Hope everyone is doing fine...

I'm sooooo hyped up because October has officially started...and after a whole year it is Halloween time again, my fav time of the year😅Do you like Halloween,too?

BIG ANNOUNCEMENT: 😏 In the meantime I'm preparing to celebrate the first Halloween on this blog with a special series, involving those fine-ass motherfuckers known as Jjk Men. A little hint about the mood of the series in two words: GOTHIC and SEXY.

One thing abt me is that Gothic literature is basically my cup of tea...ghostly atmospheres and crimson red velvety corsets kinda turn me on😅 Hope someone around here can match my freak...

More info coming soon...😏🎃 Have a good start of the Spooky Season!

(sorry but Tim Burton -my beloved- deserved a special spot on this post...as he should)

[allmoshnobrain]

here you can find links to all my writing, but you can also search for it using this tag. requests are currently OPEN.

i'm no longer doing taglists for my fics but i did create a side blog to reblog all my writing, so if you follow it you can set notifications on for whenever i reblog something there!

Who I write for:

• Metal bands: Dave Mustaine, James Hetfield, Lars Ulrich, Kirk Hammett, Jason Newsted, Cliff Burton, Cronos (Venom).

• Supernatural*: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

• COD: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John Price

*i'm seeing the show again after many years, so for now i'll only be taking requests set up to the end of season 4! i'll update this as i progress on my rewatch 💗

coming soon (wips): acid queen, part 2 (cronos x reader) | jason newsted x reader smut (requested)

multichapter stories and aus

✧ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫 | +18 | Dave Mustaine x female!OC x James Hetfield | masterlist | ao3 link | fic's playlist | bonus content/fic lore

Eleanore (better known as Nore) was only 18 years old when she moved out of her house. She chose to live with her cousin, Cliff, in the same house where his band was staying - and got involved with all of them much more than she had ever expected to get involved with someone...

✧ Dave Mustaine

𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 (+18) | au in progress | older!Dave Mustaine x reader

✧ James Hetfield

𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 (+18) | au in progress | 80s!James Hetfield x reader

✧ Jason Newsted

𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 (+18) | in progress | older!Jason Newsted x small town!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭 (+18) | in progress | 80s!Jason Newsted x reader

works with a plot and over 1k words

Cronos (Venom):

✧ 𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐝 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 | cronos gets impressed when you outdrink him at a party

Dave Mustaine:

✧ 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 (+18) | Vampire!Dave Mustaine x reader

Dean Winchester:

✧ 𝖔𝖋 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖍𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 | Dean Winchester x hunter!reader

✧ Kinktober 2024: gun play

James Hetfield:

✧ 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 (+18) | early 90s!James Hetfield x wife!reader

headcanon lists or works with less than 1k words

James Hetfield:

✧ How would dating early 80's James Hetfield be like?

James Hetfield x Reader x Jason Newsted:

✧ Kinktober 2024: caught in the act + voyeurism

Simon 'Ghost' Riley:

✧ You're a short girl, and sometimes that messes with your confidence. Your boyfriend doesn't seem to care at all, though.

✧ After a bad date leaves you with a twisted ankle, your quiet but protective roommate steps in to help.

[jaywritesrps]

I think theres still more to the story with krashlyn. Not gonna lie it’s so one sided and the hate train on ash is extreme - like I get not believing her statement for some people but I feel like if there was proof of an affair it should’ve leaked by now. I just think the scales are eventually gonna tip and it might not be pretty for krieger. I just don’t buy ash left her family cause Sophia bush looked at her and she now wants to be rich and famous, when she’s been committed for 13 years and planning her retirement in Florida. Some of the fanfic is now boarding conspiracy and insanity.

I agree with you. You know that saying that says it needs two to tango. Don't get me wrong, as I stated before, I am an Ali Krieger's fan, even though I am deeply disappointed at how Ali dealt with this, cause we still don't know her side of the story, cause she is really good dodging tricky questions, but she has her share on this too.

Like after the wedding, they pegged me as an unbalanced relationship, it was more like "what Ali wants, Ashlyn will give her". And Ashlyn's likes on IG when the news broke sorta confirms this feeling I had. There was one particular quote that from her that strike my attention that said if someone you love use their conquests to belittle you, then this person doesn't deserves you, especially when you helped them to have those victories or something along those lines. And if something like this was happening, can't imagine what was going behind closed doors with them to a point she decided to leave a 13 years relationship. And Ashlyn isn't stupid, she knew this hate train was going to get her and all the implications involving thos decision, and she still chose to divorce cause it was better than live the way they were.

But okay, Let's assume there was cheating (which i don't think so cause of what you said about proof and from who Sophia is), on Ashlyn's side, can you imagine how bad your relationship has to be that you cheated on the person you are dating for 13 years and later decide to leave to be with the other woman?

What I really think it happened based on what we know is that their relationship was bad on both ends, Ashlyn and Sophia talked about it in Cannes. Sophia was responsible for giving support to Ashlyn undeniably, cause all of Sophia's friends says she is someone that will stand up for you and fight for you no matter what, even though she doesn't do that for herself (Hilarie Burton's words), she gave Ashlyn that emotional support, while Ashlyn did the same for her while she was sick and made Sophia realize her relationship with Grant it wasn't what she thought she wanted. It was a mutual platonic relationship that ended becoming romantic down the road. Period. the end.

Ashlyn and Ali didn't worked as couple for a while. We can't pinpoint exactly what happened or when that happen, cause we dont know their home life, but looking back them through their social media, press and interviews, you can see that cracks starting to show up prior the Cannes event.

And to be honest, it's better this way, Ashlyn and Sophia are happy and Ali will find someone that will treat her as the queen she is. What is despicable is the hate fans are sending to Ashlyn and Sophia for just living their lives, based on half true or fanfics from L Chat, you know.

[emailsfromanactor]

The Cast of Hamlet (1964) in Musicals: Part 3

Alfred Drake (Claudius) was one of the most prominent leading men of the Golden Age of Broadway. He made his Broadway debut when he was only 20, in the ensembles of a few Gilbert and Sullivan shows in rep. At 22, he was in the original cast of Babes in Arms, and introduced the title song. Unfortunately, he doesn't seem to have recorded it. In 1943, at 28, he originated the role of Curly in Oklahoma!. Here he is recreating his performance of "Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin'" on TV in 1959:

In this mini concert, Drake takes the audience through his career, performing songs from Oklahoma!, Sing Out, Sweet Land, Kiss Me, Kate, and Kismet:

Speaking of Kiss Me, Kate, here's a full video of an abridged version of the show that Drake did for TV in 1958:

I love Kiss Me, Kate, a backstage musical about a dueling divorced couple in a musical adaptation of The Taming of the Shrew, but uh, warning for misogyny of both the Elizabethan and mid-1900s sorts.

And speaking of warnings, Kismet has some great songs but also it's set in medieval Baghdad and performed by white Americans, so, y'know. Not the most culturally sensitive piece. (Philip Coolidge (Voltimand/Captain) was also in the original cast! But that was in a non-singing role and I don't think he did any other musicals, so this will be his only appearance in this series.) Anyway, here's one of the songs not covered in the concert above:

Perhaps this is what Richard Burton was thinking of when he described Laurence Olivier's hand speech? :D

Kismet was not Drake's only foray into cultural insensitivity. He replaced Yul Brynner as the King of Siam in The King and I. And then there was Kean, a flop about Shakespearean actor Edmund Kean. The plot involved a production of Othello, and the album cover shows Drake in blackface. ...and I was going to say that's why I'm uploading a song instead of using YouTube, but Tumblr isn't letting me do that, so, sorry about the artwork:

This is the finale, where Kean crafts an apology using Shakespeare's words.

And this is a bootleg (songs only) of Drake starring in an adaptation of The Strange Case Of Dr. Jekyll And Mr. Hyde! I'd never heard of it before stumbling across this on YouTube, and I haven't listened yet, but I am intrigued. I mean, the title alone!

Drake's last Broadway musical was the stage adaptation of Gigi. He played the Maurice Chevalier role. Here he is with Maria Karnilova:

And finally, here he is actually onstage in a show! Gambler's Paradise, another one that I'd never heard of before exploring YouTube:

[hooked-on-elvis]

"ELVIS ON TOUR" (1972)

The ending scene is so cute!

I love the screams of the fans echoing "We want Elvis" opening the scenes meant to show what was unfolding backstage, with just a portion (a meaningful one) of the hard work from the people involved in making the Elvis show possible;

I love how it shows El kissing the Sweets and Kathy 'hi' when he's arriving for the rehearsal - He treated his musicians so nicely! See the way Elvis interacts with JD Sumner? They sure had a bond, we can note how close they were. I guess El looked up at JD as a father figure or something, which is possible since they knew each other since EP was just a teenager. One thing is sure there's mutual respect there;

I also love how those scenes shows the musicians having fun during their road trip and taking a nap - everybody at the same time except Myrna Smith lol - during the plane trip;

I love how it shows the full and empty venue, like it really meant nothing without the fans there;

I specially love how it shows Ronnie Tutt and James Burton signing autographs for the fans. It's important because the fans didn't care only for Elvis (like it often happens to many Rock and Roll bands). Elvis made his musicians just as part of the show as himself - never used them as decor pieces onstage. Kathy Westmoreland talks a bit about this in her memoir book ("Elvis and Kathy") when she wrote:

"Now, here I have to explain about the class system in show business, and there really is one. A singer, or back-up singer, as well as the musicians are usually far removed from the star of the show. In fact it is more the rule than the exception that the big name on the show barely nods at the rest of us. We are regarded as necessary furniture. You can work for a year on the road with some big stars who won't even know your name and never give you a smile, let alone a word of encouragement. The only time you ever hear from the star is if you do something wrong and then it's your head on a platter. Elvis was truly a wonder in this regard. He made certain every new person was introduced to everyone around. He went out of his way to put them at ease and make them feel comfortable. And I think he got the very best out of all of us as well as a great deal of loyalty because of his attitude, which was just unheard of in this business."

That's why seeing the fans asking autographs from the TCB musicians specially touched me. Anyhow... to think this was just little bit of all the years they shared on the road! Those guys made history!

And concerning Elvis, I love seeing him and the guys having fun backstage, him checking out the gifts people sent him, reading the cards and all, and I sure find the cutest thing seeing E chewing his almost ever-present gum in one of the rehearsal scenes there. Just saying.

"Memories" was the perfect fit for the end. ♥

[deersaints]

⤑ keith powers, 29, agender, they/them 𓇢𓆸 my my, if it isn't carnelian st. germain, my favorite witch in town. you know, though people say they can be rather overwrought and quixotic, i know they’re really effulgent and sedulous. but hey, what do i know? i’ve only known them for their entire life. if you need to get in touch, you can probably find them at their work as a manager & waiter at the rusty rail.

content warnings for... anxiety.

profile.

full name — carnelian laramie st. germain.

nickname(s) — carn; neil ( if you hate carn and want them to di– ); lars ( steven universe tease, only if you hate carn and want them to di– twice over ); laramoo ( mothers, affectionately; siblings, maliciously ); red.

place of birth — blackwater, colorado.

date of birth & age — june 30th, 1995, twenty9.

gender / pronouns — agender, they / them.

orientation — queer.

occupation — manager & waiter at the rusty rail, astrology bullshitter, tarot reader, amateur wizard ( virginal or not left to be seen, life school in wizards101 ), proud band member.

astrology — cancer sun, leo moon, libra ascending.

kind of being — witch.

abilities — spell - casting and potion brewing; communication with nature, minor healing. illusions and lunar - cycle based magic.

residence — a historical apartment in blue spruce commons; all creaking floorboards and rusted door hinges. used mostly to entertain and sleep. the ancient st. germain home in oldstone bend, time more often spent with family than on their own.

interests — punk and any variation of it, especially ska. any instrument involving blowing, strumming, or any variation of fondling. reading the daily horoscopes; shuffling tarot cards and pretending their word is law ( sometimes it is ). smoking in any capacity. crying during 80's power ballads. their family. the stars and all their constellations; moonlight. charging their crystals. landslide parties. camping, but only in groups of five. thrifting. hand - sewn clothing. cooking for others. curating mixtapes and playlists. native plants and animals to blackwater. underground raves. getting lost inside the woods. dungeons and dragons.

aversions — riding their bike into ditches and creeks for the 5th time that week. the come down after a particularly nice high. the color greige because it's fake and shouldn't exist. invasive species. the time they almost drowned in aforementioned creek. industry plants; both nuclear and hollywood. calling modern fans of punk "posers"; elitism. snobbery. their never - ending spiral of thoughts. seafood because they're too in land for it to be fresh ( usually ). not being listened to; their concerns being turned into mockery. thrill seeker behavior because they are not trying to die while white water rafting.

quirks — constantly drums their fingers against any surface present; whether it's a table or their own thigh. uses hand gestures often. bleaches their hair, lathers it in oil, then dyes it every week in a vicious cycle of damaged hair. accidentally ate selenite once; it wasn't a great time. cycles around instead of drives because it's better for the planet. curates playlists for every situation; including breakups. will send it to the person they're meant for.

most played — sound system by operation ivy.

notable features — more tattoos than bare skin; they seem to change everyday. charms sewn into every hemline, hanging from every piercing adorning nose and lip and brow.

general disposition — like they're about to shit themselves out of fear & excitement, maybe both. impossibly lanky for someone well - built.

character study — burton guster ( psych ) & seth cohen ( the o.c. ).

background.

the st. germains have lived in blackwater since the near - founding of the town; witchcraft born of the earth, their power was small but significant. once they made home in the mountains, the miner's luck increased; there were less animal attacks, better harvests. they've lived in the same house since the beginning; new sections built every year to accommodate their family's growth over the years.

somewhere in the 80's; their family grimoire - curated by their family for generations - was stolen by a rival family, an opposing coven. nothing more but a petty feud; the next generation of st. germains had to learn their magic from scratch.

anxiety; carnelian was born to that struggle, though their parents had made due with what was passed along via word and demonstration. their siblings - the lot of them - never seemed to struggle with their abilities. it came to them naturally, their specializations showing at a young age. carnelian was different; it wasn't so easy to them. their spells became laced with anxiety; tainted with it. things would go wrong; spell jars turning sour, fruit rotting off the trees.

while their magic was always weak - it strengthened considerably with the lunar cycle; the new moon was their enemy, but the full moon allowed them to channel it with relative ease. without the anxiety overpowering it. they began to practice in tandem with the moon, waning when it waned - waxing when it waxed. eventually, the stars begin to whisper down at them.

while their siblings are moving onto more ambitious things; ranging from recreating their family grimoire to getting it back from their rivals, to using their magic to help the community wherever they can - carnelian is talking to the stars. they guide their every decision; influence every magical decision. sometimes they feel like it's not the stars at all; but they push that feeling down. ignore it.

carnelian starts sleepwalking. it's subtle at first, waking up in different parts of the house. then outside. then across the street; then in the middle of the woods. each night it worsens until carnelian awakes atop a mountain, nothing but rocks beneath them.

they stop practicing magic after that; besides tarot cards and minor predictions, things that have no greater bearing - carnelian doesn't reach for the stars again. they want something from them - and they don't think it's something good.

details.

carnelian often feels like a magician more than anything else, reduced to cheap tricks and illusions to keep their magic at bay. anything else - and they overdo it, overwrought with anxiety. they're one of the weaker st. germains, and while it's never been a competition - there's that constant want to do more.

big on cleansing spells, good luck charms, crystals, the lot. their charms and trinkets are passed down, found from friends and lovers; hold weight to their meanings.

they will pick up any instrument handed to them with relative ease; has always been a natural musician, though they don't do much with the talent besides turn 80's synth pop classics into acoustic ballads. has cried during them before.

believes firmly in self medicating, prefers the feeling of melting into the backseat of a friend's van to the feeling of actually being present.

despite their friendliness and loyalty to their friends - carn is a natural skeptic. isn't quick to trust or believe others, but they're kind. always kind, always giving more of themselves than they should. the clothes off their own back kind of person.

carnelian is so nosy it's insane. purposefully seeks out information, if only just to hold it; doesn't spread rumors, or idly gossip - is a good secret keeper. they just like to know.

has a tendency to be self - righteous; thinks they know the best out of anyone, and can be a little arrogant in a way that isn't entirely annoying.

they're hopelessly idealistic, to the point where they're shit at advice. a big advocate of drop everything and follow your heart. they're indecisive themselves, often looking to their friends for guidance.

carnelian hates change, hates new things and new experiences. would prefer the same routine, the same life, over and over again. they don't cope well with loss, or shifts in their friendships.

[moseslikellamas]

♱𖣂 Redfork Menace ♱𖣂 pt.14

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!OC

Summary - The Trial begins with the Blackwood account.

Warnings - fem!reader, suspense, adult language, period typical misogyny, condescension, adult language, feelings of shame, feelings of guilt, manipulation, benjicot brainrot, Kieran Burton fancast.

Word count - 2.5k

Shanda was up long before the sun rose. She’d hardly slept a wink. Her thoughts were racing too fast to allow her heart to ever settle into an even pace. Instead she had done what she did best as of late, pacing. Dinner was a tense awkward affair for everyone involved. Except maybe Elmo Tully who had a good laugh the entire time.

“He’s a sane one for sure.” Alysanne had said after the latest cackle sounded down the hall.

“The riverlands are cursed.” Shanda had replied. “Neither the old gods or the new hear our pleas.”

How much blood had they split in the face of this feud? Maybe the gods were right to turn away from them.

“It’s not as bad as all that.” She snorted. “Tis not a grievous sin to kiss a man.”

Shanda looked at her with a bored expression. The Blackwoods didn’t hold anything sacred that was clear enough. So Shanda understood the lady could not understand the duress she was under. The weight of her crimes against her house were suffocating her. What had she managed to do for her house since getting caught? Nothing besides turning them against her. She hadn’t even gained any useful information about the enemy. So her mind had spiraled all night punishing her before the shame of the trial could try to do the same.

Now she paced in front of her window waiting for dawn to break. Life was cruel but never crueler than for a young woman. Shanda was smart and capable but the shadow of children she’d never met were the face of her past, present and future. She lived in the prison of small minds. She might’ve been a great bowman or a decent swordsman if she hadn’t had to learn under the pressure of secrecy. She put her hands on the window, feeling the cold glass as she looked out. She remembered what it felt like to roam the borderlands alone before dawn, the smell of river water and Meadowsweet in the air.

A knock sounds and draws her attention towards the door. Sighing, she moved to open it.

“Wanna grab some air?” Alysanne smiled at her and Shanda was relieved to hear her.

“You read my mind.”

The both of them slip down the deserted halls, noting the odd stationed guard here and there. Alysanne walked with confidence as if she’d made this trek often, weaving them down halls and up stairs. Until at last they stepped outside, standing on top of a tower. The sun was just beginning to rise. There was a slight chill in the air and it wasn’t raining for once.

“How are you holding up?” Alysanne asked her after a while.

Shanda shrugged. How could she put all of her worries into one emotion? “As well as can be expected.”

She didn’t want to see Benjicot. If he had set fire to Stone Hedge, she couldn’t stand to look at him. Worse though was that she didn’t want to see him because she felt so betrayed. How could she explain to Martyn that the enemy setting fire to their home was making her heart hurt? Royce would never understand and her father might die on the spot.

“I really tried,” Alysanne sighed. “to get you out of this but Benji does everything big.” She shook her head, face pinched.

Shanda couldn’t help but to laugh at her grim expression despite her own fears. “Well, I made the mess, and it’s time for me to clean it up.”

***

Shanda made the executive decision not to attend breakfast. She parted from Alysanne and asked one of the guards to escort her when it was time for the trial. Then she waited. Her anxiety was raging out of control and it didn’t take long before she was pacing again. This time no knock sounded when her door opened.

“Why are you in here?”

“This is my room.” She turned to face the heir, arms crossed.

“You shouldn’t skip meals.” His voice was disapproving.

“Ugh! Who cares!” She exclaimed, putting her hands on her head.

He walked into the room, shutting the door behind him. He was looking at her curiously as he crossed the room.

“What did you and your brother talk about?” He stopped inches from her, forcing her to look up to him.

Her eyes darted away from his. “None of your business but if you’re desperate to know, worry not. You’ll hear soon enough I’m sure.” She took a step back, needing more space. Of course he would come and find her. She should’ve seen that coming.

He held his arm out. “Come on. I’m sure Lord Tully will not forgive us if we’re late.”

She looked at him for a long moment, memorizing his face before she took his arm. The walk to the great hall was a blur to her. Her hands were sweating and she was taking slow measured breaths, trying to keep her heart rate down. When the guards opened the doors, it occurred to her that Benjicot had managed to worm his way into being her escort into the court. Hundreds of eyes shifted towards them as they entered and she set her jaw. Why hadn’t that useless guard told her people were filing in? Did anyone in the riverlands possess an actually useful guard? They crossed the room together to take their spot with the other Blackwoods. Shanda only made eye contact with Martyn, who looked twice as stressed as she felt.

When they came to sit, she hissed at him “You knew we were late.”

“No idea what you mean, my lady.”

Elmo called them to attention before she could reply. She glared at Benjicot who was pointedly not looking at her.

“I’m sure you’re all ready to get on with this, I know I am. We’re all tired of the constant fighting and squabbling you two get into. What’s more, I am tired of the both of you dragging your fellow rivermen into the fight. I’ve had to mediate four conflicts in little more than a moons turn.”

Shanda was picking the skin on her fingers as he talked. She hadn’t had anything to do with those earlier conflicts but she would suffer for them anyway. They were all suffering for generations of fighting.

“We’ll start with the Blackwood complaint.”

Shanda exhaled at that, a bit relieved. If they went first, she had a chance to build her defense. Lord Samwell stood first and her heart dropped at that. Having the current lord of Raventree condemn her in front of the entire riverlands was not a good look. She wished suddenly she had tried at all to learn what Benjicot’s plan was.

“For weeks we’d had someone sneaking into our side of the borderlands.”

Shanda frowned as he began to speak. That was technically true, she supposed. Her trips had been spread out a bit, sparse as they were. It made her sound worse than she was though.

“Our guards were restless, they couldn’t find any proof of the interloper. Some of the started to spread ghost stories, of a menace haunting the RedFork.”

Now she did roll her eyes. That was just an outright lie, she’d made that name up to intimidate the heir. She had no doubt the guards were stupid enough to believe she was a ghost though.

“Then the so-called ghost tried to kill my heir.”

Mutters rang out in the hall, causing Elmo to call them back into order. Shanda would’ve begun to throttle Benjicot if it wouldn’t have proved their case true. Her hands were balled into fists and she gritted her teeth. She knew it was going to be difficult and slanderous but it was just laughable. She’d never gotten remotely close to threatening Benjicot’s life.

Samwell left the floor open for Benjicot. It took a great deal of effort for her to keep her face neutral as he approached the center of the room.

“I figured it was just some petty criminal at first. We’d been having so many skirmishes around that area, it wasn’t uncommon to have some peasant try and sneak past us. But over time I noticed the culprit never tried to pass the boundary beyond the river, they would just watch. When I figured out it was a spy, I set a trap.”

Shanda sat in shock listening to him. He’d known she was there the entire time. That’s how he was able to ambush her that night he almost caught her.

“Imagine my surprise when I figured out the spy haunting us was Amos Bracken's youngest daughter.”

More muttering went through the room but no one seemed too shocked at the news. They were always fighting so what made this any different?

“Listening to guard gossip and trying to take me out wasn’t enough for her in the end. Not long after that we found her deep in Blackwood territory trying to sneak into Raventree. A group of guards and I found her. Then we later found her brothers attempting to do the same. We’ve done no damage to the Brackens before or after the latest edict. We apprehended a criminal terrorizing our lands and kept the Brackens from committing slaughter over it.”

Shanda just stared at him, seeing a stranger. She’d never met this man standing before her.

“I’ve had to neglect my own duties to keep her from escaping, as nightly she would try her luck against sneaking around my guard.”

If he neglected his duties it was to drive her insane not to keep her from escaping! She hadn’t even really given it a good attempt beyond the night she saw Royce. And he had endorsed that attempt.

“She made it nearly out one night but I was on guard duty and caught her before she could cross the river.”

Lies just kept spewing from his mouth. He’d twisted every moment they’d spent together to make her look bad.

“Lucky I was too. As I caught her brother trying to sneak across to help her.”

Shanda tried to meet Royce’s eyes but he wouldn’t look at her. When Benjicot left the floor and Alysanne stood to take her place, she looked away from the floor. It was going to be a very long day for her.

***

By the time lunch rolled around, half of house Blackwood had testified against her. She’d tuned out after Alysanne. Half of the people she had never set eyes on in the time she spent at Raventree but it didn’t matter. It would be her word against tens and tens of people. When they called for lunch, Shanda had made a beeline towards Martyn. She hadn’t bothered to say anything, just grabbed him by the hand and pulled him out into the hall. Then she searched for the first empty room she could find, pulling them inside.

Shanda’s breathing was too fast and she countered it by taking big gasps of air and slowly exhaling before she began to speak to her brother in short bursts.

“They are smearing my name.” She ran her hands through her hair, trying not to freak out.

“What am I going to do Martyn? I haven’t met half of those people and I’m not the mastermind they’re making me out to be.”

She fanned her face, willing herself not to start crying. She couldn’t walk back in with a splotchy red face.

“I’m going to make my own petition.” He said confidently, putting his hand on her shoulder.

“I’m not going to let anyone lie on your name without at least trying to tell the truth. When I do, I’ll call you up. We can tell them together exactly how it happened. I know you’re worried but Lord Tully said he would hear it all. That includes us.”

As comforted by Martyns words as she was, it didn’t touch how afraid of that she was. If they were to truly hear it all, Alysanne told of their misconduct, it would be over for her. They wouldn’t listen to her account under the best conditions. But that wasn’t what she said to her brother.

“You’re a good person Martyn.”

“Come on. Let’s head back before someone starts looking for us.”

Together they walked back into the great hall where lunch was in full swing.

“I’ll see you at dinner.” Martyn mumbled before going to the Bracken side.

Shanda stood there contemplating leaving before she took a seat next to some unknown Blackwood. She wasn’t hungry even now and only picked at the food on her plate. She was mostly infuriated, sitting there seething while she watched Benjicot laugh with the men he was sitting with. She stood abruptly and walked over to him.

“Care for a word?” She elbowed him from behind.

He smiled at her, radiating confidence. “Of course, my lady.”

Shanda crossed the room to the hallway a second time but she did not pull the Blackwood away from the hall and into a room. She did, however, push him as hard as she could the moment the doors closed behind them.

“You’re a gods damned liar, Blackwood. How will you live with yourself lying in front of the entire riverlands and the gods?”

Benjicot grabbed her hands when she tried to push him again and glancing around he pulled her off to the side, out of sight of the guards. She pulled against his hands but helplessly followed him as he dragged her along. When they came to a stop he allowed her to rip her hands free. He stood too close to her for her liking.

“You did all of those things.” He stared down at her sincerely.

“Your life was never in danger for a second and we both know it.” The venom in her voice was scathing.

Smirking, he stepped closer to her. “Aw you poor baby. Finally figuring it out are you?” Her back hit the stone wall behind her when he took another step towards her. He placed both hands on either side of her against the wall. “It doesn’t matter what you did.” His breath was hot against her neck. “It matters what I say you did.”

She didn’t breathe. She was so tense, so angry.

“You’re a sad excuse of a man.” She bit back.

“And I’m going to be your sad excuse of a husband.” He laughed.

Shanda stood there chest heaving, utterly confused.

He judged the look on her face, hand coming up to graze her cheek. “Did you really think I was going to let my father cut your pretty head off? When I enjoy your sweet neck so much?” His tone was cooing and too sweet.

Shanda was completely disoriented by his words and continued closeness. “We are sworn enemies.” She said, swallowing thickly. It was a sad last ditch effort to push him away, to deny the situation in which she’d found herself.

Cradling her against the wall he replied, “Not anymore.”

[burtonandtaylor]

Burton and Taylor go to Oxford

By David Wood

Aged 21, David Wood was in a student play with two megastars – and got to kiss the most beautiful woman in the world.

In 1965, when I was in my final year at Oxford, reading English, news came through that Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor were coming to town. They were going to appear in an Oxford University Dramatic Society (OUDS) production of Dr Faustus by Christopher Marlowe. Burton would play Faustus. Taylor would play the non-speaking role of Helen of Troy.

The play would be directed by Professor Nevill Coghill, the Oxford don who had been Burton’s tutor during the war years, when he was at Exeter College. In November, a postcard arrived in my college pigeonhole, from Coghill, asking me to play Wagner.On 1st February 1966, Burton and Taylor rolled into Oxford, literally, in their splendid green Rolls-Royce, driven by Gaston Sanz, their loyal chauffeur and bodyguard.

We all trooped off to the ballroom of Oxford’s most famous hotel, the Randolph, and performed a run-through of the play. The Burtons watched with concentration and no hint of condescension.

I had the chance of exchanging a few words with Elizabeth, and was immediately hypnotised by her warm smile and friendliness. She joked that she knew every line of her non-speaking role. Burton told us that he knew his part, but not as well as he thought he did. He said that when working through them, a lot of Marlowe’s lines had started coming out as Burton’s lines!

When rehearsals started the next day, it became clear that Burton had indeed done his homework. Although he used a script, he used it more for writing notes than as an aide-mémoire. At first he spoke quietly and unemphatically, but his characteristically melodic tones were excitingly apparent.

Burton’s calm concentration involved a lot of smoking. Whenever he felt the need to light up, he placed a hand over his shoulder, whereupon the trusty Gaston would approach, place a cigarette between his outstretched fingers, then light it from behind.

Coghill, then aged 66, directed Burton quietly yet enthusiastically. Burton rarely questioned his blocking or interpretation. He was quoted as saying, ‘He is as near to a saint as any man I know.’ A few amendments were insisted upon.

No actor was allowed to get too close to him. Perhaps he knew he needed a magic circle of space around him to portray his power.

After rehearsal, we sometimes accompanied Burton to the Apollo pub across the road. He seemed very relaxed over a pint of bitter. It must have been a relief that there were no paparazzi clicking away, and that the pub regulars took little or no notice of him.

He took no chances, however. Gaston came too, and never kept his eyes off him, even escorting him to the Gents. Gaston paid for our drinks. We had already noticed that Burton, like royalty, never carried anything in the pockets of his camel jacket. Gaston looked after the cash and the cigarettes.

At one point, a photographer came in and was granted a shot, but Burton, clearly from experience, made quite sure that he was surrounded by undergraduates, both male and female, in such a way that the photo couldn’t be cropped to imply he was privately entertaining one young lady.

Later that week, Elizabeth came to rehearsal. Afterwards, she came to the pub with Richard and a group of us. Simply dressed in black slacks and jumper, wearing the minimum of make-up, she chatted to us in a happy and relaxed way. I found myself sitting at her feet. She noticed that I was wearing an old sweater, with my elbows poking out from frayed holes. A typical student sweater. I suppose I thought it was arty.

‘You can’t go around like that!’ laughed Elizabeth. ‘Richard’s got lots of sweaters. I’ll bring you one.’

The next day she brought me two, one beige and one a burgundy colour. One even had ‘Beverly Hills’ on the label. It was a very kind gesture. I don’t think I ever wore them, but maybe it is significant that I still have them, souvenirs of an unforgettable encounter.

I remember one afternoon going to collect Sheila Dawson – my girlfriend, understudying Elizabeth Taylor and playing one of the dancers – from the Burtons’ suite at the Randolph. Girlish giggles greeted me. I discovered Sheila and Elizabeth like excited schoolgirls, kneeling at a dressing table. Elizabeth was handing Sheila priceless jewels to try on. A necklace; some earrings. Elizabeth wasn’t showing off her possessions – rather enjoying the fun of a dressing-up game.

The Burtons had, in those few days, taken over our lives. It was a uniquely special time, yet Richard and Elizabeth had somehow made our participation in their rarefied world both natural and enjoyable. I wrote a card to my mother and stepfather: ‘The excitement continues – they both are very charming and sweet – very relaxed and natural – and she is very intelligent, I think – Sheila has rehearsed the Helen scene with him several times!! D.’

I was clearly bewitched!

Six days before opening night, we were all asked to attend the press conference, which took place on the Playhouse stage.

Sitting at a table in the centre of the stage sat Burton and Taylor. They were quite casually dressed, he in a light-coloured cardigan, she in black slacks and a fur wrap.

Richard graciously acknowledged Coghill. ‘I thought since Professor Coghill started me off,’ he said, ‘I should finish him off.’

He said that, in a few years’ time, he would like to play Lear, once he had gained a bit more weight. Elizabeth, who had so far said very little, leaned towards Richard and whispered in his ear. Richard reported that she had offered him some of her weight. They had only recently finished filming Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, for which Elizabeth had, for artistic reasons, put on extra pounds.

Elizabeth maintained a jokey attitude, saying that, as Helen, ‘All I do is kiss Richard and move around.’

She said she thought she should appear masked from head to foot, because it wasn’t easy to show a face that would launch a thousand ships. Her determination not to take herself too seriously was appealing and diplomatic.

Maria Aitken, who played the Good Angel, watched Burton and Taylor from the wings. She later said, ‘At the dress rehearsal, I can honestly say that when they kissed it was the single most electrifying moment I have ever seen in well over half a century of theatregoing.’

Opening night was on 14th February, St Valentine’s Day.

The audience did truly gasp when they saw Elizabeth. Jenny Moss, who played Lechery, wrote to me: ‘I learned that the secret of Elizabeth Taylor’s glowing make-up and smooth skin was ordinary Johnson’s Baby Powder – rubbed into the skin, it gives a subtle matt sheen.’

After each performance, the Burtons would host a reception in their suite at the Randolph. Sheila and I were fortunate enough to be invited regularly. The guests included members of the Burton family and other Welsh guests, including Harry Secombe and Stanley Baker.

On one occasion, Richard regaled the guests, in his unique, unforgettable voice, with the poem Chapel Deacon by Welsh poet R S Thomas. It has the memorable first line ‘Who put that crease in your soul, Davies?’ Also at the party was Gwydion Thomas, the poet’s son, who was in Dr Faustus, playing the 3rd Scholar.

All I remember from the week of performances was that we lived in a fantasy world, where everything revolved around the play.

Towards the end of the week, we students invited the Burtons to a celebratory meal after the show. We took them to La Cantina, a restaurant in Queen Street. It was a happy occasion, with little formality. The Burtons had become our friends.

Towards the end of the evening, Sheila didn’t feel well. Suddenly I felt a tap on the shoulder and turned to see an anxious Elizabeth. ‘Sheila’s puking in the john,’ she told me. ‘I’ve cleaned her up.’

Sheila and I were bundled into the Rolls, and driven by Gaston back to my digs in Little Clarendon Street, while Richard and Elizabeth walked back to the Randolph. A typically kind gesture.

Their generosity continued. After the final Saturday night performance, they threw a lavish party for us all. Back in the Randolph ballroom, where we had performed the run-through for them less than three weeks earlier, they entertained the cast and backstage team with free-flowing food and drink.

We sang a selection of our comedy songs, which seemed to go down well. Richard and Elizabeth said nice things, then listened as we told them we were preparing a new musical revue to tour and play the Edinburgh Festival.

We found ourselves asking if the Burtons would become our patrons. Not only did they agree, but they offered to give us £250, a tidy sum, towards our running costs. It wasn’t long before we had new letterhead paper, with the words ‘WSG Productions, Patrons: Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor’ proudly emblazoned at the top.

Well after midnight, realising that the dream was coming to its conclusion, everyone said their fond farewells. Sheila and I approached Elizabeth.

‘See you tomorrow,’ she smiled.

At first we didn’t understand, but then realised that she was talking about the planned recording taking place next day. HMV, the famous EMI Records label, had asked to make an LP record of the production. We explained to Elizabeth that we had not been called for the next day’s session in London. Sheila did not have a speaking role, and my few lines as Wagner were to be recorded at a later date.

‘But you must come!’ exclaimed Elizabeth. ‘See you there!’

The next morning, having borrowed enough money for our train fares, we set off for Oxford Station. This meant walking past my college, Worcester. I popped into the Porter’s Lodge to see if there was any post in my pigeonhole.

I found a note. It was from Morgan, the Burtons’ assistant agent. It asked me to ring him urgently at the Randolph.

‘Thank heaven I’ve found you!’ exclaimed Morgan. Elizabeth had given him instructions to offer to drive us to London. She had been most insistent, Morgan said. Not wanting to incur her displeasure, he had delayed his drive to town, determined to locate us. Sheila and I walked the short distance up Beaumont Street to the Randolph, where Morgan was waiting, with a very impressive Jaguar. As he raised the boot to drop in our modest luggage, we noticed it was lined with a deep pile of unopened Burtons’ fan mail.

Soon we were enjoying a smooth and comfortable ride to Hampstead, where we were warmly welcomed by Richard and Elizabeth and his brother Ivor and his lovely wife, Gwen, in their cosy house in Squire’s Mount, just off Hampstead Heath. The six of us enjoyed lunch and a relaxing chat before it was time to set off for the recording studio in Putney. It was in the home of the independent producer Denis Comper.

Gaston drove Richard, Elizabeth, Sheila and me in the Rolls. We rang the doorbell. Comper and his wife were staggered to find Elizabeth Taylor on their doorstep. Burton was expected, yes, but Elizabeth’s non-speaking role in the play meant they had never dreamed of her attending.

‘I’m here to make the sandwiches,’ announced Elizabeth. And she did. For several hours she entertained us in the improvised green room upstairs, while Richard and some of the student cast recorded excerpts from the play.

The climax came for me at midnight. The next day was my 22nd birthday. As midnight struck, Elizabeth Taylor wished me many happy returns and kissed me on the lips. I glowed with pleasure, and still glow at the memory of this spontaneous gesture of affection.

It wasn’t a sensual kiss, rather a sincere acknowledgement of the friendly and warm relationship that Sheila, my fellow student actors and I had enjoyed with this very special lady and her very special husband.

It marked the culmination of a magical, unique and truly unforgettable time.

Source