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halfway-happyyy · 4 years ago

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She’s My Kind Of Girl

AN: this started as an idea of the lovely @bskarsgardlove92‘s and i kind of just rolled with it! i hope you enjoy, and as always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated!

synopsis: Alex dresses in drag to attend a costume party with his girl, as one half of Swedish superband, ABBA! Absolute fluff ensues!

“Though you may hail from a long and distinguished line of inexplicably talented thespians, I know you well enough by now to recognize when you're not telling me something.”

Alexander passed a serviette over the front of his mouth and swallowed back a bite of salmon, cocking an eyebrow in amusement. “I beg your pardon?”

She sipped deeply from her glass of chilled wine, and cocked her head to the side, eyeing him. “Don’t play coy with me, Alex. You were on the line with Eija when I came into the kitchen. That glint in your eyes says so much and then nothing at all in equal measure.”

“One could almost say that you know me too well, kid.”

"Almost," She grinned around the delicate rim of her glass. “Now spill it, Skarsgård.”

Alexander leaned back against the oak chair, dangling a long arm over the back of it. “Dad’s seventieth birthday is next month. Eija’s hosting a party back home for him, and she wants us to be there.”

She thought fondly of Alexander’s father often; he had been one of the first faces of his family that she’d had the privilege of meeting when her and Alexander had started taking things a little more seriously. Where her own father figure had been virtually non-existent most of the time, she was blessed to have such a wonderful father-in-law in Stellan. He was such an integral part of their lives that the thought of not returning home to Sweden to celebrate him was almost too much to bear.

“I’ll look into flights tomorrow morning. What kind of get together is it? I would imagine knowing Eija as I do, that she's got something wonderful up her sleeve?”

Alexander's lips curved up into a devilish smirk and he cocked his head to the side.

“She's hosting a costume party.”

There it was…

“God, I can only imagine the ideas that beautiful mind of yours has already dreamed up.”

Alexander tipped the rest of his wine into his mouth, his blue eyes glittering mischievously in the low light from the dining room lamp. “Hm, you know how much dad loves ABBA…”

It was the precise tone of his voice that she reckoned prepared her for what was coming next. “Oh boy,” She giggled under her breath.

“Well, I propose that we go as Björn and Agnetha.”

She mulled the thought of it over in her head, and then an idea swam into her mind's eye that caused a smirk similar to her other half's to tug the edges of her lips skyward. “I'll do it on one condition, my love.”

His eyebrow lifted in intrigue. “I'm all ears.”

“I will do it if I can be the Björn to your Agnetha.”

His laughter- utterly loud and booming, filled every square space of their home with a warm and joyous sound. When it subsided, he leveled his gaze with hers and she noticed immediately, the blush that had risen to the apples his cheeks. After a moment, he nodded his head finitely. “You've got yourself a deal, kid.”

She glanced at the watch face beneath the bell sleeve of her silver, sequined blouse, and sighed heavily. “C'mon dancing queen, we haven’t got all night…” Alexander emerged from the bathroom door a moment later, a blonde, perfectly styled wig fell below the cups of a filled-out bra.

“I must say,” He reached toward her to tousle the brunette wig atop of her head, a smirk in place on his features. “Silver and forest green sequins do wonders for you, kid. Or should I say- Björn.”

“Oh hush,” She giggled. “I can hardly imagine the outfit you’ve conjured up for this evening." They gazed at each other in silence for a moment before she gestured to her vanity. "Shall I do your makeup?”

Alexander shifted from foot to foot. “If you wouldn't mind,” He murmured.

She stood on tiptoes to twirl strands of blonde hair around her finger. “It would be an honour, Agnetha.”

She followed Alexander to the vanity next to their bay window and turned on the lamp so that it illuminated his face perfectly. Pulling up a photo of Agnetha on her phone for reference, she set to work. “She sometimes likes to wear bold colours on her eyes, so that’s the look we’re going for this evening.” She started the process by moisturizing and priming his face, opting out of a foundation, and using a tinted moisturizer instead. “Alright, close your eyes for me, my love.” He did as he was told, and she allowed herself a moment to admire how breathtaking he truly was. After a couple of seconds of searching, she found a palette that was made up of different shades of purple and applied a muted lavender hue over both of his lids. Wanting to go a little darker, she blended a violet shade into his creases and stood back to admire her handiwork. Nearly done, she decided to go dramatic on the eyeliner, but when she reached for her favourite tube of mascara, Alexander faltered.

“I don’t need… falsies?”

She blanched. “Alex, I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but your natural eyelashes are beautiful,” She took his face in her hands and gently turned it to the side, gesturing to his left eye. “Look how long and healthy they are. I think I have some cheap lashes lying around somewhere if you really want them, but I think a few coats of mascara will do wonderfully.”

He reached up to press his lips to the underside of her jaw, shaking his head. “No, I trust you.”

She kissed the tip of his nose and got back to work. “You’ve done magnificent so far. I’m just about finished…” She glanced around for her mauve pink lipstick, held a hand beneath his chin and applied the colour to his lips. “Alright, rub your lips together for me please.” She watched him do as she asked. “Now pat them together, as if you were smacking them.” She waited. “Alright, for the finishing touch,” She reached for her bottle of setting spray, told him to close his eyes, and let the mist settle over his face. “You my love, are finished and ready for the evening.

He leaned forward to inspect her handiwork closely, and a large smile grew on his face. “You’ve done a wonderful job, kid.”

She nodded towards the washroom door. “Go on then, Chiquitita. The party awaits.”

“You and your ABBA puns, huh?” Alexander smirked, before closing the door behind him.

“Oh, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Just wait until your brothers get a hold of us.” She snickered. While she waited for Alexander to wrap up, she began lacing up the white platform boots she had found weeks ago. They added an extra four inches to her height, and she fought back a giggle as she sipped the last remnants of her pre-game cocktail.

Ten minutes elapsed, and she began to feel the familiar tug of inebriation deep in her belly. Suddenly, Alexander cleared his throat. “I’m coming out. Are you ready?”

“I’ve literally never been more ready in my life.” She deadpanned.

Alexander emerged from the washroom, and all she could do was gape at his figure as he stood poised in the doorway. Lord knows where, but he had managed to find a hot pink jumpsuit with a silver-sequined trim around the neckline and a heart-shaped cutout that showed off his adorable, trim bellybutton perfectly. He donned glossy, white boots on his feet that only added to his seemingly immense height. “Well, what do you think?” He asked, dubiously.

She swallowed hard. “I have lots of feelings about it actually… but our car is here, and your father awaits.” She held her arm out for him to take. “Shall we go, my beautiful Agnetha?”

Alexander accepted her arm gratefully and bent down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Lead the way, Björn.”

“What are your brothers going as?” She asked, as they slid into the backseat of the sedan.

“Uh, I think Bill and his family said that they were going as Disney characters. Gustaf and Valter are going as Top Gun’s Maverick and Goose, respectively,” He paused so that they could share a laugh at that. “And I’m not sure yet what Sam and his family are doing.”

She scratched contemptuously at the back of her head. “I hate this wig already.”

Alexander snorted into his drink. “But it looks so good on you… the way it kind of frames your face in that ‘the 70’s called and they want their hair back’ kind of way…”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s the heart-shaped bellybutton window for me.”

Alexander guffawed loudly. “Oh really? We're playing that game? Well then, it’s the extra four or five inches that you’re wearing but you still don’t reach past my sternum, for me.”

They rounded the corner to Stellan’s street, and laughter bubbled up out of her mouth like a song. “It’s the fact that you look better than most women I know, for me.” This sent Alexander into such a frenzy that she paid the driver herself. “Alright, Agnetha, I have a dream and it involves you exiting this vehicle tonight,” She nudged his back to get him out of the open car door. “Let's go, girlfriend.” They ambled up the pathway hand-in-hand and stood giggling in front of Stellan’s door. Roaring laughter and bits and pieces of broken Swedish and English conversation could be heard from inside as her finger hovered above the doorbell. “You ready?”

Alexander nodded, finitely. “Go on then,”

She rang the bell and waited for what felt like years, before the door flung open and Eija greeted them in a demure, feline costume. Her face was disbelieving at first, but then her painted-on whiskers twitched; she cracked and laughter roared from her belly in happy waves. When she could speak again, she shook her head gleefully. “Come in, come in you two. What an honour to have one half of the world’s greatest band with us!” She ushered them into Stellan’s lively home, the scent of a freshly-cooked feast hung tantalizing in the air, and made her mouth water hungrily. “Just wait until papa sees you!” She clapped her hands merrily, pulling them into the adjacent living room.

Their entrance caused mass hysteria; pure laugher on a level that was hard to fathom. Gustaf approached them first, a pair of sunglasses sat perched atop his head, and he was sporting a mustache. Clad in a pair of army-green coveralls, the badge on his chest simply read, ‘Gus.’ “I have to say that when Alex first told me what the two of you were planning, this was not what I had in mind…” He scratched absentmindedly at the bridge of his nose, his smile wry. “But you two absolutely knocked it out of the park. Well done, brother.” He belly laughed, and wrapped an arm around Alex’s shoulders, and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I can’t wait until dad sees you.”

Valter appeared before them next, clad in the exact same costume as Gustaf accept that his badge read, ‘Maverick’, and he had on over his blue eyes, a pair of mirrored Rayban aviators. “Mamma Mia, Agnetha! Such lovely bosoms you have!”

A hand appeared out of the abyss and sneaked its way toward Alexander’s ample breasts, but the younger Skarsgård's plan was foiled before he could get there with Alexander slapping it away just in the nick of time. “Touch them and die, Valter.” He beamed, devilishly.

Valter's grin was sheepish. “My apologies Agnetha- Björn.”

She tossed a wink his way. “Turns out she can take care of herself just fine.”

“Alright, alright, where are they?” Stellan’s achingly familiar voice- unmistakable anywhere, boomed throughout the room. When he caught sight of them, he stood stock-still and tilted his head back, his rolling laughter loud and genuine. It caused pleasant goosebumps to rise in waves over her arms, and she couldn’t help but laugh along with him. “This is it,” He announced. “I couldn’t dare to ask for another thing after this. My eldest boy and his love coming in drag as Agnetha and Björn? This is seventy, folks!” He closed the distance between them to wrap them both in a crushing bear hug. When he pulled away, his eyes were glittering brightly beneath the low light of the many lamps scattered around the living room. “How unbelievably wonderful it is to see you both here.” He kissed both of their cheeks over again, his smile wide and utterly contagious. “On a totally unrelated note- that you and Björn here have similar situations happening… ehm, up top, is really quite miraculous, isn’t it?”

Alexander rolled his azure eyes, laughing loudly at that. “Happy birthday, dad.”

“And what a wonderful birthday it turned out to be. Come, come. We have much to discuss.”

The night carried on in much the same fashion; drinks were had (and spilt), laughter was shared, pictures were taken- and all the while, she just felt unimaginably blessed to be a part of it all. Closer towards the evening’s finish, she felt Alexander’s hand tighten around her own, and she knew then, without a shadow of a doubt that this was her family. This was where she belonged.

#literal ICONS #who doesn't love little ABBA??#alexander skarsgard #alexander skarsgard x reader #alexander skarsgard imagine #alexander skarsgard oneshot #alexander skarsgard drabble #drabble #writing #fluff #alex sstuff

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michaelsheenpt · 4 years ago

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Michael Sheen Only Wants To Play Bizarre Characters, And We Should Respect That

Hollywood’s preference for neatly categorizing the legions of good-looking thespians that grace our screens every year is fairly obvious. We used to silo the men and women who are cutting a check for acting out fantasies in theaters and on TV as either movie stars or dramatic actors. The former was the hook that studios hung tentpole blockbusters on: charming, impossibly masculine, glamorous, famous as much for their real-life personas as they were for the characters they played on screen. The latter? Those were the Oscar-winners, the critical darlings, the Jeremy Strongs making bold choices, begging directors to tear-gas them on sets in the name of storytelling.

The divergent path has merged some over the years. There’s no clear, defining line separating bankable talent from actual talent. Chris Evans can brandish a shield in Marvel behemoths one second, then don an unkempt beard and heavy demeanor for a limited drama on Apple TV+ the next. Jon Hamm, who rose to fame playing an arrogant, adulterous ad executive in ’60s era Mad Men is now one of the most unpredictably exciting comedic actors in the game. Chadwick Boseman brought a royal Wakandan superhero to life in Black Panther, but he’ll also probably take home posthumous awards for his brilliant turn in an August Wilson adaptation this year.

In Hollywood, you can now be both a movie star and a serious actor, which is what makes Michael Sheen even more interesting. Michael Sheen is decidedly not a movie star. He’s also Welsh, which means he likely doesn’t sport the kind of ego that would make him capable of attaching gravitas to his acting career. He has 93 credits on his IMDb page. He’s played former British Prime Minister Tony Blair thrice, earning awards recognition for his impersonation in the Helen Mirren-starring The Queen. And he’s lit up the small screen with guest stints on everything from 30 Rock to The Good Wife.

Michael Sheen is, by all accounts, a serious, or at least seriously talented, actor. But he’s also weird as f*ck. I hope he’ll take that as the highest of compliments because it’s the truly bizarre character actors that should be propped up on a pedestal. That’s what Sheen really is: a character actor in his prime, a fearless conqueror on-screen, blazing a path by brandishing his quirky habits and secret love for creating chaos while leaving behind a scorched Earth of conventional conformists in his wake. He’s not like the other girls, and that’s become more apparent as time drags on.

My fascination with Sheen’s filmography began, to my shame, late in his career. His current gig is playing an irresistibly charming serial killer and lauded surgeon named Dr. Martin Whitly on Fox’s Prodigal Son. Perhaps the best praise I can heap on Sheen’s performance is that it convinces me to tune into a network drama every week, a rare feat in the age of streaming. But even that adulation doesn’t paint the whole story of what Sheen’s doing on that show.

Sporting the kind of knit cardigan Ransom Drysdale would be envious of and a crop of wild, grey-dusted curls with just enough kink in them to hint at the perverted madness housed underneath, Sheen’s Whitly is charismatic, comical, and shockingly likable. His unnerving ease at see-sawing between philosophical convos on life and love with his son Malcolm (the excellent Tom Payne) and pragmatically outlining how to dismember a body is at once jarring and, oddly, mesmerizing. Sheen plays him as a perpetually amused psychotic genius, an Einstein whose intelligence is so far above those that keep him captive, it’s almost a joke. And we’re in on it, as the audience, gleefully cackling when Whitly gets overexcited about consulting on the most gruesome homicide cases or, even more disturbingly, momentarily forgetting he once stuffed a woman into a box when he shares a tender exchange with his son. And Sheen embraces the strangeness of the man, rejoicing in his eccentricities, adding a musical flair to every “My boy,” he greets Malcolm with and relishing the more awkward moments by exploiting their inherent comedy. Really, when has a slow-rising hospital bed and distasteful Stephen Hawking joke been funnier?

Lest you think playing a serial killing diva was the most oddball acting choice Sheen has ever made, may I point you to the rest of his film catalog. There’s his mustache-twirling clichéd villain in Dr. Dolittle. The eerily robotic bartender of Passengers. The long-haired alpha Lycan of Underworld. The Tony Blairs (all three of them) and the heavily-bronzed game show hosts of Quiz. The Hot Tub Time Machine hating settling soul mate of Liz Lemon in 30 Rock.

And then there are a handful of performances that live in my own brain, rent-free, like when he played Aro in the Twilight series. Other actors would’ve balked at the challenge of turning a 4,000-year-old Italian vampire riddled with boredom and consumed by unchecked power into something more than just a two-dimensional, cartoonish stereotype, but not Sheen. No, while Robert Pattinson flaunted his constipated sullenness and Kristen Stewart fidgeted and fought to make her character likable, Sheen basked in the camp of it all. He over-enunciated, he exaggerated Aro’s mercurial nature with rapid eye movement, twitchy physicality, and shrieking giggle fits. In the franchise’s final film, just before a climactic battle is set to take place, Sheen throws the atmospheric tension every other actor in the scene has worked so painstakingly hard to build into turmoil. It’s like watching Georgia O’Keefe destroy a room full of paintings, or Heath Ledger’s Joker burn a mountain of money, and it is glorious.

In Tron: Legacy he plays Castor, a maniacal nightclub owner with a consuming love for theatricality. As his guests fall into his well-laid trap, he dances and kicks and shuffles and shouts, wielding a neon-tinted cane like a Barnum and Bailey’s ringmaster and a slicked-back shock-white hairdo that turns him into an analog-style Bowie wannabe. His accent careens into the absurd, from high-pitched lilts to German parody to something I can only describe as Marvel supervillain Arnim Zola on steroids.

In Neil Gaiman’s Amazon Prime comedy Good Omens, Sheen played the anxiety-ridden angel, Aziraphale, a heavenly kiss-ass who befriends David Tennant’s demonic Crowley, and together, the two try to save the world. Playing the more uptight celestial being might not be as fun for any other actor, but Sheen has a hell of a time, dealing nervous spasms and twitchy eyeballs and exaggerated gulps with such a heavy hand, you can’t help but feel sympathy for the straight-laced seraph.

And just when I was ready to conclude my research, feeling quite confident dubbing Sheen’s extensive resume as one of the wilder, diverse acting careers in Hollywood, I stumbled upon Michael Bolton’s Valentine’s Day Special on Netflix. It’s here that Sheen truly goes above and beyond in the name of weird, playing a Bob Fosse parody named Carl Flossy: a gruff, chain-smoking choreographer whose manners are as coarse as his constantly-displayed chest hair. Shouting obscenities at Bolton as he tries to map out a musical dilly that will convince punk kids that old-time rock-n-roll is, in fact, badass, Sheen’s growling criticism and shouted anger is muffled only by the ever-present cigarette dangling from his mouth. He’s an aging Guido-type with an open-neck satin shirt, and inflated confidence, and a mysterious way of drawing out the best in his dancers, one that usually involves throwing the nearest folded chair.

he’s such a well-respected actor who’s worked with Tim Burton, Woody Allen and Ron Howard. I suppose that’s what’s so great about Sheen’s career so far. He’s happy to sacrifice whatever level of stardom and recognition he may have been afforded thanks to his talent and good looks for something even more elusive that blockbuster fame and Academy trophies: the unique ability to disappear into even the most bizarre of characters; to convince audiences he’s no longer Michael Sheen, affable Welshman and ex-husband of thee Kate Beckinsale, but instead, an amalgam of the oddities and freakish individuals he plays on the screen. Michael Sheen might, in truth, be as weird and out there as the characters he inhabits. That’s what makes him great.

FOX’s ‘Prodigal Son’ returns on Tuesday, January 12.

SOURCE

#michael sheen #he's got range #well respected actor #aziraphale #tron legacy #aro #twilight #martin whitly #castor

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

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lucky star. (jackie/jan) — roza

a seven part series where each chapter details a different relationship with jackie based solely on the song correlated to their individual madonna rusical verses.

[ summary ] : jan is hopelessly pining after jackie, her new college dorm mate who has possibly the most beautiful face she's ever seen in person. drunk and completely head over heels, jan decides to take action. [verse one: lucky star]

[ author's note ] : I don't even ship jan/jackie they've always been a friendship to me but I love the song lucky star due to personal reasons and I wanted to follow through with the intent of my concept! thank you sweet ol' meg for being a great beta!

— *.✧

Jackie was beautiful.

She was completely and utterly ethereal.

Jan still remembered that first day of the new semester completely wallowing in her misery. Her purple varsity jacket was soaked in her own tears as she received a letter from administration detailing how she was to have some stranger as a dorm mate.

The brunette knew she couldn't possibly complain about company when she was almost never home at her dorm in the first place.

All her time and energy was completely devoted to earning her BFA in Musical Theatre and hanging around campus at the community theatre or going to auditions trying to gain equity and experience as her parents and vocal coaches always loved to say

Experience doesn't pay any of my tuition...

Jackie came a week later than expected, opening the door to their room with only a suitcase and small cardboard box in her left hand as she waved, uneasy.

Divine was a good way to describe the energy radiating off her. She had long, black and curly hair that sat comfortably all the way down to her waist and dark brown eyes that shone with nothing but radiance and curiosity.

Jan felt underdressed in her last musical's matching cast sweatshirt that she decided to pair with the baggiest of Adidas sweatpants.

"I'm Jackie," the woman spoke with a chipper tone as Jan nodded and shook her hand firmly still completely entranced from her head down to her knee high pink iridescent boots.

Putting down her box on the empty, creaky desk provided by the university she turned and admitted that she got stuck at the airport back home in Canada for a while.

"Didn't mean to frighten you."

She certainly had a specific aesthetic in mind.

Jackie felt like an expensive painting at the MOMA that she couldn't touch or afford to look at, Jan definitely wasn't angry at the roommate she received based solely on first impression.

"Jan, Jan Mantione."

The Persian hummed, admitting that she had to have seen Jan from somewhere before.

"You seem oddly familiar," the native Canadian pondered aloud before Jan admitted that if she liked theatre she was currently pursuing her BFA and was in almost every community and college production that was put on since her freshman year of college.

"Oh you were in Into the Woods!"

"I was! Rapunzel to be exact," she admitted with a sly wink, still proud she managed to get her dream role belting at the top of a tower for two acts as she tightened her ponytail and laid back down to the sounds of her vinyl playing and Jackie opening her suitcase, trying to tidy together her new living conditions.

Her focus should've been entirely towards her stupidly expensive English textbooks yet every minute or two she would find herself unknowingly staring at the Persian with a slight grin painted across her lips.

The music playing near her ear certainly didn't help the situation, though Jan took to it as good insight for the foreseeable future.

You're gonna make everything alright

You may be my lucky star

I'm the luckiest by far.

The thespian huffed, mumbling under her breath a soft response to the loving lyrics.

"Oh how touching…"

— *.✧

Those lyrics must've been some kind of prophecy from God herself.

Five months later Jan had become smitten towards the Persian who was gone most of the day to study her Linguistics courses at the University library or simply in the corner of her desk attempting to speak to her mother who only communicated in Farsi.

Jackie hadn't mentioned it during their first encounter but turned out she wasn't just a simple theatre fan who loved to see the students put on productions; she was a full blown performer and lover of all things musical.

The Persian would smile widely when they would knock into each other at auditions and Jan's ego would be knocked down a peg seeing how on par her roommate was with her own background and level of experience.

Jackie's dancing was not as sharp or clean as Jan's, not even by a mile however her attitude and presence was undeniable and she was sharp, witty and smart enough to gain the director's attention.

The two of them sat in their now organized and decorated dorm awaiting the cast list to be emailed to them in midst of the storm that brewed outside their small glass window.

"You feel good about the show?" Jackie asked as she zipped up her jacket before taking up the remaining space still left on Jan's bed. The brunette flushed as she clasped her hands together in stress waiting for that email notification.

"It's a show, you never really know with these kinds of things what they want from you," Jan admitted as she coughed trying to hide the flush appearing across her cheeks seeing Jackie rub up against her shoulders.

"You did amazing, don't start stressing, I don't need to hear your voice three octaves higher," Jackie teased as Jan hit her in the arm and smiled wide.

"I'm not nervous!"

"Well, your pitch right now is a bit higher than usual," Jackie whispered as she purposely spoke in a voice about two times higher than her own.

The notification dinged and Jan gasped dramatically as she clutched her phone between her hands and let out a deep breath hoping that everything all worked out great for the both of them.

Jackie grabbed her hand and hummed, closing her eyes calmly in wait as Jan read the cast list in silence just trying to look for Jackie's name and her own.

The second Jan saw her and Jackie's name she screamed and threw her phone before the Persian laughed, getting up and quickly grabbing her phone before they both stared at the email.

Not only were they both cast but they were both principal roles in the musical.

"Your dream role!" Jackie yelled as she saw Jan halfway to tears with her head in her hands, groaning. The Canadian gently put her phone to the side as she opened her arms wide for her dorm mate to hug her though Jan had other ideas or was just completely impulsive and decided kissing her was a far better idea.

Jan threw her arms around her neck and brushed their lips together immediately getting a reaction out of the Persian who was in shock for a second before the brunette felt Jackie's arms snake around her waist.

They kissed and it felt wonderful .

Everything about Jackie felt so well put together, so thought out and so beautiful .

Every little butterfly that had been building and flying around in Jan's stomach finally seemed to awaken. She tried not to laugh against Jackie's lips as her brain went to the first day they were properly introduced to one another.

So that vinyl was truly my oracle wasn't it?

It had to have been at least five minutes before they both stopped, completely out of breath and trying not to make any stupid decisions in the moment.

"God," Jackie breathed out as Jan separated from the kiss, a deep smile radiated off both of their faces as they still were holding each other with nothing but silence and a couple of furious giggling supplying the environment.

"That was out of character for me," Jan finally replied after an entire minute of stares and blinking. Jackie snickered, admitting that she was at least a good kisser.

"Do we need to talk about anything?"

Jan clawed at her jacket as she shook her head instantaneously. Jackie seemed unconvinced and almost upset that the brunette didn't want to even think about it.

"Nah."

I'll admire you at a distance.

— *.✧

Admiring at a distance proved extremely difficult when everyday you were still at rehearsals with one another and had to drive each other home back to the dorm you both shared with one another.

It had been a smooth path and still, two months after the exchange and the kissing had happened, neither of them spoke a word about it.

Jan would notice Jackie's occasionally sour faces and expressions when the brunette would have to kiss her scene partner and the staring still went on, even if both of them pretended that it had no real reasoning.

"Happy tech week," their fellow principal yelled as the cast had managed to gather everyone up in one of the college senior's off campus apartments.

They all cheered with their plastic cups as half of the freshman were wasted off the two bottles of vodka they opened and Jan was only slightly tipsy after two shots with Jackie, who was completely winning the immunity contest.

"Is this a cultural thing? Is every Persian just good at holding their alcohol?" Jan asked completely clueless as she found herself pouring more liquor into her cup, Jackie taking the bottle from her and nodding at the question.

"I guess you could say that," she joked before closing the bottle and pointing at Jan's chest trying to tell her she didn't need more alcohol when she was already getting tipsy and stumbling all over the floor.

Ten minutes later they found themselves in a circle with most of their castmates trying to figure out the logistics of how to play Seven Minutes in Heaven with one another.

"We're making a lottery!"

Jan rolled her eyes as she saw Jackie on the other side of the circle smiling up at her and shrugging, finding this game extremely amusing.

I'm going to kill every freshman here with my whistle tones. And my bare hands.

Crystal pulled two names from the hat before she gasped and smiled, showing the two names without even reading them.

"Jan and Jackie," the Persian read aloud before her eyes widened. The entire circle made fun of them as Jan stood still holding her drink, she grabbed Jackie's hand as the circle ordered them to seven minutes in the closet down the hallway.

"I know how the game works!" Jan yelled as they walked away from the circle with a sigh, Jackie wasn't even one bit opposed to the idea of kissing Jan for seven straight minutes with nobody watching but her dorm mate looked quite the opposite.

"Never thought I'd be back in here," she mumbled as Jan closed the closet door. The brunette giggled, giving it to Jackie for the credible joke. "We don't have to kiss, we can just stay in here and talk, make loud noises so they think we're actually up to something."

Jan's heart raced, she had Jackie right by her side completely alone and in the dark and they could do absolutely anything with no judgement for seven minutes or until some brat would knock at the closet, screaming at them to get out.

"I wanna kiss you," she admitted with all the power of the alcohol helping her get the words out in a cohesive sentence. Jackie grinned, running her hands through the brunette's hair.

"You can't see it but I'm nodding my head."

Jan grabbed Jackie's collar and smiled as they messily slammed their lips together trying to ignore all of their castmates losing their minds trying to sing karaoke in the background.

The Persian's hands slipped to her cheeks as they kissed, gently feeling Jan push the hair falling in her face. "Thank you," she breathed with a small laugh against her skin as Jan giggled and just wanted this kiss to last.

"So when you kissed me that day of callbacks it wasn't just some mistake?" Jackie asked entranced as Jan slipped off her jacket feeling nothing but heat and sweat build up.

Jackie fanned Jan with her hands as the brunette snickered, holding her wrists as they kissed again though the Persian could hear the distinct and soft "No," that slipped from her lips.

That stupid Madonna song kept playing on a loop in Jan's head as they were in the middle of making out furiously.

You make everything alright,

What you do to me baby.

"You wanna skip all of this and go back to our dorm?" The words leaving her lips the minute Jackie took a pause from the kissing just to breathe and get some air.

Her heart skipped a beat the minute Jackie replied with a firm "Yes," as their hands interlocked. Jan smiled widely, kissing her hand as she admitted that it was unbearably hot in this closet.

"Well of course it is, you're wearing three pounds of fabric across your chest."

Jan rolled her eyes and kissed the Persian again as they enjoyed the last bit of time they had before Jackie yelped hearing the frantic yelling and knocking at the closet door.

"Get out lesbians!"

"We're all gay, we do theatre!" Jan yelled back as she picked up her jacket from the floor as she held Jackie's hand the minute they exited praying that neither of them managed to get lipstick stains on one another or else it would never be the end of the conversation.

"We run for the door the minute they start drawing names again, I'll drive us back to our dorm room," Jan whispered against the crook of Jackie's neck still holding her arm securely around her hands.

The Canadian smirked as she pressed a kiss against her forehead before they made their way back to the group.

"Deal." She whispered.

#rpdr fanfiction #jackie cox #jan sport #jankie #lesbian au #college au #song fic #madonna verse series #roza #s12

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scotianostra · 5 years ago

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The Scottish actor Alex McAvoy was born on March 10th 1928 in Glasgow.

Most famous for two roles, Sunny Jim in the original Para Handy tales of The Vital Spark, through the 60's and the teacher in Pink Floyds, The Wall, McAvoy was much more than a two horse trick! the two roles you might know him from. Throughout his career he was a stalwart of Scottish theatre, especially pantos, starring at the top theatres in Edinburgh and Glasgow. He was also a master of mime.

In the earlier part of his career, McAvoy ventured into the world of variety and light entertainment, and was the first foil to the kilted Scottish comedy singer Andy Stewart.

The summer show promoter George B Bowie envisaged him as a future star comedian, and headlined him in the holiday-season revue of 1963 at the Barrfields Pavilion, Largs. But despite success in that field, he was not cut out to be a Scotland-based funny man; a wider field, especially in mime, beckoned. As a schoolboy growing up in Scotstounhill, Glasgow, second eldest of a family of eight, McAvoy was always an artistic lad, creating small puppets out of colourful old clothes and running his own mini-puppet theatre. He also loved to act.

The wee boy who just had to become an actor enhanced his love of the arts by enrolling for classes at the School of Art in Glasgow's Renfrew Street; his first job was in the big fashion stores of the city, increasing the profits of the owners by dressing their windows with all the delicate artistry at his command. Young McAvoy had a flair for the arts, even in the sterner world of retail commerce. Inevitably, in the fabulous 1950s, when Glasgow was seeing a new interest in the dramatic arts, he just had to join other aspiring thespians at the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama in Glasgow's Athenaeum building. The burgeoning Citizens' Theatre in the Gorbals needed trained actors, which is why young McAvoy found himself alongside such future performers as John Cairney and (set to be a gem of television presenters) Mary Marquis. He had the built-in creative sense but he needed the basic study and training. Live theatre, especially in so vibrant a nursery as the Citizens', then housed in the old Princess Theatre building, was to hone the talents of the lad from Scotstounhill. Just look at his credits. Small parts and big parts, character roles in Z Cars and Dad's Army, and meaty parts in Sunday night dramas.

Old lags or angry army sergeants, McAvoy could transform each role into something truly realistic. He was also a performer in musicals, some of you might remember the original TV movie for Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat in 1972, before the 80's revival, McAvoy starred as Joseph's father Jacob in that, a role I know myself having appeared in my school production in 1978 as Jacobs youngest son, Benjamin. Other notable appearances include The Bill, Minder and the Peter Capaldi film, Strictly Sinatra alongside such Scottish stalwarts as Una McLean, Brian Cox, Iain Cuthbertson, Tommy Flanagan and Kelly McDonald.

Not everybody knows that McAvoy's role as the Teacher made him a familiar face from Pink Floyd's The Wall, the 1982 global cult film with Bob Geldof as a burned-out rock star. It spawned thousands of items of memorabilia, and McAvoy's animated character in the college cap was seen on t-shirts around the world, introducing him to millions.

His love of mime was intense, and he made a mark, naturally, in the busy world of Scottish pantomime, with featured roles at the King's theatres in Glasgow and Edinburgh. The mime in pantomime had strong appeal. One day, borrowing from his actress friend Mary Marquis a French vocabulary and phrase book, he crossed the Channel to Paris to study and work in L'Ecole de Jacques LeCoq. It had been his secret ambition to go there for some years.

LeCoq was his idol, and friends at the school say his miming skill was such that he could make anyone know what he was saying without words. He became deeply immersed in the international world of mime and right up to his death was still in touch with that famous school.

McAvoy had been ill from leukaemia for some years, but retained his link with live theatre and, before being hospitalised, had taken on a cameo part on the London stage. He was a sensitive man of the arts to the end. He died on 16 June, 2005, in London, aged 77.

Oh and as far as I can tell there is nothing to connect him with James McAvoy but the surname.

#Scotland #scottish #actor

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voidiots · 4 years ago

Note

(Tarot: Celtic Cross) A pale Xaela wearing a pale face scarf wanders up, cards stashed at her side, her hands raised to sign; it appears this Xaela did not talk. “Hello, Una’to. We have not met before, but...well...” A soft laugh followed by a bow. “I’m Shieda, pointed to your path by the thespian and the shadowdancer. To you, I extend a question, for my path is unclear: what should I do next, for too many storms have crashed to simply just be bad luck. And in return, I offer my own cards.”

It takes a long moment for Una’to to parse what Shieda is conveying to him, he’s never been particularly apt at reading sign. Never mind using it himself when his way of words is that of circles spoken aloud. A curious hum leaves him as he ponders how many people Frey has told about him in some capacity. “Seems I’ve a reputation should you have heard of me from both parties in some capacity. And what luck to find me when I’m due to leave this city soon. Perhaps less luck and other factors. I’ll gladly read your cards in exchange for a reading from you and yours”. With that he unwraps his deck from it’s cloth, places the cloth before him, and starts to shuffle. Hiding some measure of minor discomfort with Shieda, something instinctual or subconsciously learned making him wary of her. No matter though.

Some moments later, that feel like they stretch on for an eternity, Una’to lays the ten cards out, their faces all skyward, and pours over them briefly. The eye under his hair flicking about as he reads. “First, the main issue that is at hand that plays into all the other cards. Rather than ill luck it seems that there are issues stemming from manipulation, moodiness, and trickery. While emotions in others are understood by this character they are being used to cause strife or the control upon them is slipping away allowing for conflicts that throw you off course to arise, even if unknown to you. The waters in the rulers cup are dark, and their depth unknown. An ocean of emotions as a microcosm,” he starts, tapping the vertically aligned card of the cross in the center of the spread, buried under another laying horizontally.

He then moves to tap the card resting over the heart. “This is the challenge you are facing specifically that don’t allow for a resolution at present. Until this is resolved you will not see the heart of the issue as being passed. In this place is fulfillment, harmony, and completion. The perfect end of a cycle that marks a great change in the direction of your roads. Life changing in it’s path. The inner and outer realms will need to attain harmony, bringing you understanding. Something must be completed here, that is joyous and celebrated. Perhaps in a simpler reading the emotions that are being used to sew discontent would be to blame, as holding on to them would slow your progress to this resolution. Emotions are fickle and hard to control though. Either way, something is meant to be brought to it’s happy end, and it very well may lie within you”. The words leave him in a near sigh with a wistful smile.

With care, he moves to the card below the center cross, and closest to him, tapping it’s face. “Your unconscious. How you feel about the that which causes you so much issue. The hidden emotions. Perhaps the ones hidden in that cup that allow for conflict to breed. In this place is a card with the meanings of action, adventure, and fearlessness. The archetype here is one of action that manifests an idea in passionate pursuit of a vision you carry. This focus makes you single minded and thus brash and impulsive, overall unrealistic. There is a need here to stop for a moment, reign the passion in and think clearly on what may arise from your actions and is actually doable”.

Without waiting he taps the next card, up to his left diagonally. “The past then comes in to play. What you are carrying with you from it that have created the current turbulent situation you are in at present. There is victory, success, and public reward from your past that seems to impact the present. A passionate battle that was tough, but met with a well deserved celebration of your victory. It brought you recognition. Which can of course cause issues. Others may know of you by this deed and thus it attracts trouble to you, making your emotions overflow with dark waters and stealing balance from you. On the other hand perhaps you expect the current situations to be much more like those of the past that you overcame. You overcame hard times before, and now should be no different, but maybe it’s not and their is frustration in not meeting your expectations set by the past and it’s accolades,” he says with a small shrug. He only has intuition to go off of with Shieda after all. No clues to tie the messy threads of fate together in a neat story.

He moves once more tapping the top most card of the circle. “This is your conscious, a partner to the heart of the issue with the card drawn here. This place is how you see the situation. Your convictions and thoughts on it bleeding over into what your beliefs in this reading. In this place is compassion, calm, and comfort. There is a nurturing nature that grows from compassion, allowing you to understand the emotions of others. Perhaps it’s that understanding that allows the problem to continue should you also be prone to moments of cruelty and manipulation as our first card implies. Though this card says that you are usually prone to generosity and kindness. It may not always be wanted by the receiving party however. Otherwise these are the things you expect from this reading rather than how you see the situation. I can’t say as you have far more pieces than I and I am but a hapless messenger of the roads”. A wistful smile graces his features for just a moment before shifting back to his normal sly and curious mask.

Tapping the last card of the circle he hums out curiously. “In stark contrast the future shoots down the conscious. These are the influences to come that will change how you see the situation, and developing concerns you are having. This card, like what you must overcome is of a road changing importance. Another way marker at a fork or perilous bend. Judgement is lacking here. Self-awareness no where to be found, rising doubt, and self-loathing found. Upon self reflection you may find you don’t see the whole of the picture, or the issues at present that seem more than bad luck stemming from those dark waters in the cup rising. In their reflection, you, but something you dislike. But not reality as the waters are warped, making you far too harsh on yourself. Remember your worth, who you really are, and perhaps you can avoid this future as things stand. Given your conscious at present, I think it safe to say something rather unpleasant is on the way to make you think this but remember, the reflection in the dark waters lie like pretty silver tongues akin to knives that cut you,” he says cryptically, if not dramatically, that smile still plastered on his features.

“We are now down to the more personal final four of this reading”. He taps the closest card to him that makes up the row on the side. “This is you, to put it simply. How you are approaching the heart of the problem. How your beliefs and fears are impacting the outcome approaching from the horizon. Your methods are complex, and seem to be founded in the belief of being perceptive and clear minded. Wit as sharp as a sword. However, this approach can be more cold-hearted than it is compassionate. Despite your unconcious being passionate and head strong it seems you think yourself organized and analytical. Think hard on this I think, as there constant messages in the greater reading that conflict with one another regarding you. Look inside for the conflicts of self”. The reading is starting to feel easier, more like performing as a mouth piece for the roads than anything else. He mentally shrugs it off as being out of practice with larger readings.

“Next is the environment you have to operate within as you navigate this problem,” he starts, moving up the row with his revealed eye. “You need to work around emotional baggage, either that which is your own or from others, I can’t say. In these bags are unresolved issues and resisting transition or changes that are truly necessary for things to be resolved. The bags are in the way of moving forward from something truly damaging, what or who these bags are I know not. There is no kindness in the place you are leaving, the past environment perhaps or the issue you are trying to move from, but you are finding it difficult to part ways with them yet. A tough situation indeed, there’s work to be done to reach your exit so you don’t drown,” he hums out with a small pout, finally breaking that smile. His face goes neutral as he moves to the second to last card.

“Your hopes and fears. What you expect to come from your situation. In some cases the hopes or fears you have most regarding this reading. Work life imbalance and smothering are represented here. The former creates friction between what work demands of you and the needs you have outside of it. Rather than work in a literal sense, I think it may mean the work you may need to put in for a resolution that’s agreeable to you. So much so that this work is never met in a way that completes it as you have to also focus on your needs outside the problem. Neither receive the attention they need in turn. Thus the card implores you to look and re-balance things so you do not drown”. He stretches slightly then. The reading is almost over but he can feel his muscles starting to lock up from pouring over the cards so intently, picking out every meaning he can see to throw to Shieda.

Finally, he picks up the last card, showing it to her. A single skull cup full and overflowing with flowers. “The outcome. Where this road ends after all pieces of this map I have given you come into play. The card here is one of new love, not of a person strictly speaking of course. Overflowing feelings, as has been the focus of this reading in many aspects, and the rise of creativity. It is a new beginning should you escape that which drags you down, those bags blocking your way and the emotions that do you no good give birth to new ones. Emotional fulfillment comes with this new perspective born of love and creativity. There is joy to be found in sharing these emotions, and receiving them in return”.

With that he collapses the spread on itself, returning all the cards back into his deck with an unreadable smile. “There’s quite a lot that was said, but I feel like the thread of your map tied off rather nicely with a complete story to follow. The map is of course yours to do with as you please now, so you may change the story to come however you see fit. Rather apt there was so much water when you called what has passed storms. Humor me if you will, did that help you at all?”

Thank you for the ask @woaowcat! I generally avoided describing all the cards since I knew this would end up much longer if I did, but I got a picture of the spread if you would like me to send it your way!

#woaowcat #thank you so much for the wait #once I'm not a space cadet I'll make a tag for these two interacting #my brain is mush

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camp-campus-universe · 6 years ago

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Camp Campus AU: Part 2

Finally! It’s here, after like a week! This took longer than I thought it would, these characters are really hard to draw but I think I’m pretty satisfied with what I have right now. Since I finished this, that also means I dedicate more time to asks, specifically those that requests drawings! That also means I can focus on drawing comics and stuff revolving around their relationships, which I’m excited. I’m really excited to continue with this project and see it grow, and I’m so glad you’re all here to see it with me! You have no idea how grateful I am for all of the love that you’ve all sent so far! Thank you so much. Anyway, without further ado, here we go!

Maxwell/Max : Like many of his peers, Max hasn’t changed much since his time at Camp Campbell. Max is still as vulgar as ever and maintains his pessimistic outlook on life. However, many people think its all just an act now to keep up his reputation. Since Camp Campbell, Max’s life has honestly taken a turn for the better. He has a healthier home life, loyal companions, and Mr. Honeynuts. He is generally happier than he was 7 years prior. The only inner conflict Max truly struggles with now are his budding feelings for his best friend and whether or not he wants to jeopardize their friendship. Also Max is often teased for his “baby” hands, they’re really really small.

Cornelius/Neil : Intelligent, cocky, and overly sarcastic, Neil plays the role of the parent when it comes to handling Nikki and Max. Unlike his friends, Neil was the only one who matured both physically and mentally and feels as if its his job to make sure Nikki and Max don’t wind up killing someone else or themselves. As mentioned before, Neil and Nikki remained close even after each summer brought an end to their Camp Campbell experience. The reason being his dad and Nikki’s mom eloping and combining the families. While Nikki is eager to invite Neil into her life as the older brother she never had, Neil harbors a sort of resentment towards his dad as a result of his parents’ divorce. Although he is glad to spend time with Nikki as well, Neil is still consciously struggling with his parents’ divorce and can’t help but to think that Candy is a homewrecker, even though he had admitted before that his parents’ relationship was awful. Outside of his home life, Neil can be a bit stuck-up and act like a know-it-all at times. He still harbors a deep loathing for Harrison, now mostly because Harrison claims to be a flat-earther. He’s also still incredibly annoyed by Space Kid, although he has no reason to be. Neil also runs a tutoring business at school in order to make a profit, but unfortunately for him (Or maybe fortunately) Tabii’s his only reoccurring customer. Neil is also Erin’s vice president in the Student Council and they seem to make a great team. He also has custom-made glasses because his nose is so fucking big.

Preston Goodplay : Preston is the stereotypical school thespian. Like at Camp Campbell, he’s outrageous and posses a larger than life attitude. He’s both over-dramatic and overemotional, but refuses to take any form of criticism. Preston is often cast as a main role in any school production and even takes it upon himself to critique his underclassmen in the drama department. Despite coming off as a total wacko, Preston is very talented and each performance that he gives is full of energy. Preston is very particular about his passion and is quick to anger if things don’t go his way. Preston acknowledges his relationship with his of his Camp Campbell peers, but doesn’t really willingly share his interest with any of them because of his fear that they might fuck it all up. However, he and Nikki do bond over some musicals that they both enjoy, although Nikki is usually more interested in the violent parts than the actual plot.

Rudolph “Dolph” Houston : Dolph is the youngest of the cast and the only underclassmen in their friend group. Dolph continues to remain in high spirits and prefers to think positively than reflect upon the negative when faced with difficult situations. After High school, Dolph plans on attending a local Art College in order to truly embrace his career as a professional artist. Growing older, Dolph, like any other boy, went through puberty and grew facial hair. However, he ended up accidentally shaving it in an incident at Camp Campbell one summer and it never grew up correctly after that. Although an innocent mistake, the uncanny resemblance to Hitler disgusts Neil and causes him to keep his distance. Ironically being the youngest of the group, Dolph is a good friend with sole senior Ered. Dolph, like Nikki, has a great admiration for Ered and respects for activism. Using his artistic talent, Dolph often agrees to make protest signs for Ered or even help her vandalize the town to get a message across. Overall, Dolph is the same sweet boy he was years ago.

Neil Armstrong Jr./Space Kid : Space Kid is just as optimistic and upbeat as he was before. However, he’s also gotten a lot smarter. Inspired by his great grandfather, Neil Armstrong, Space Kid decided to take up an internship at NASA and since then has put a lot of focus on his grades. Much to Neil’s annoyance, Space Kid’s GPA is practically the same as his, which is impressive. Although, the constant work has taken a toll on him and has made him absolutely exhausted. His exhaustion explains why he comes to school dressed comfortably in pajama pants (NASA merch of course TM) everyday. But regardless of overworking himself, Space Kid still tries his best to put on a happy face for his colleagues, even if they don’t appreciate it.

Harrison : Exerting the same confidence and pride as before while still upholding his magical title, Harrison is the school’s sole illusionist. Although now his tricks aren’t seen as that impressive anymore among his peers, Harrison often attends parties and other small events and shows off his miraculous talent. He hopes that one day he’ll be discovered and whisked away to a life of fame and fortune. Harrison is kind to practically everyone he meets, but his rivalries with Neil and Nerris remain very alive. As a way to annoy Neil, Harrison often lies and says that he’s a Flat-Earther with no intention of listening to Neil’s explanation as to why the Earth is round. Harrison also rivals Nerris not only in magical skills, but also in opinions. As a die hard Harry Potter fan, Nerris had solely read the books and reluctantly turned to the films but found them to be distasteful. However, Harrison had never read the books and enjoyed the effects that the movies had, claiming that they’re superior. And by saying this, the two renew their fierce opposition to each other, but no one can stay mad at each other forever. Having a mostly positive attitude, many might not believe that Harrison actually has a secret, one that lies beneath his iconic white gloves. But it’s too soon to know for sure what it is yet.

Gaylord “Nurf” Nurfington : Nurf ended up growing into a model citizen. After many anger management classes and corrective punishment, Nurf has finally turned his life around in the right direction. He and his mom currently live together and support each other, trying to rewrite their bad decisions from the past. Nurf often participates in volunteer work as well as lead a therapy group. He has also experiemnted more with his own identity and is comfortable admitting that he is in fact Bisexual. Nurf is also Quarterback for the school’s team and is known as one of their best players, alongside Nikki. Even though he is on his way to becoming an ideal person, Nurf still displays some aggressive tendencies and is very overprotective of his friends from Camp Campbell.

The Wood Scouts (Billy “Snake” Nikssilp/Edward Pikeman/Jermy Fartz/Stephen van Petrol) : The Wood Scouts don’t play a particularly large role in this AU, but they still exist in this universe. Edward’s leader status has deteriorated in the group and has become co-dependent on Jermy and his newfound popularity. Jermy had gotten a major glow-up over the last Summer and is now considered to be the hottest guy attending the school. Because of his popularity, Edward now clings to Jermy in a one-sided friendship and uses his popularity as a way to elevate his own confidence (he wants clouts lmao).Snake and Petrol have both noticed this behavior from Edward and are disgusted by his attachment to Jermy. Edward often neglects his friendship with the two and refuses to associate with them. Snake still has a small crush on Tabii, but understands that she is completely invested in Neil and wants what’s best for her. Petrol plans to enroll in the military after graduation. He also struggles to find shirts that fit him.

David & Gwen : Here they are! In all of their glory! Unfortunately this time around, David and Gwen don’t play as large of a role in the campers’ lives, but are still actively present in this AU. Summers back, David had fully encouraged Gwen to leave Camp Campbell in search for other job opportunities in the hopes of making her a happier person. With some persuading, she eventually left and the two had little contact with each other since. Since then, David has been running the camp by himself. Now David is the proud father of one. And that one is Max. David had officially adopted Max a few summers ago to help him out of his bad family situation and now lives his life as a proud suburban dad. David then started to rely on Max to help him co-counsel the Camp during the summer, because he though it’d be a great father/son bonding experience and the rest is history. When he’s not a happy-go-lucky camp counselor during the summer, David spends the rest of his time as a Dental Assistant because he loves nothing more than to see people smile. Gwen, however, didn’t find the happiness she thought she would after leaving Camp Campbell. Searching for jobs endlessly, Gwen eventually was hired as a high school guidance counselor but was fired months after because of a incident where she made a student cry hysterically. Gwen was then stripped of her title and sentenced to a secretary position. Although thankful she still has a job, Gwen is as miserable as ever and has to deal with the kids she once knew from Camp Campbell. Most of her time is spent with Max, purely because he’s given a detention every other day, and she couldn’t hate her life more. Hopefully one day Gwen will find the fortune she deserves.

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trivialqueen · 5 years ago

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39. Hero

{Here’s the next section of that original story. Still currently, and creatively called, Hospital Romance Drama. As always, I’m neither a doctor, nor British. I’m just a girl who fancies herself a writer and likes slow burns, smart women, and tall men.}

“No, not to be so odd and from all fashions As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable: But who dare tell her so? If I should speak, She would mock me into air; O, she would laugh me Out of myself, press me to death with wit. Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire, Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly: It were a better death than die with mocks, Which is as bad as die with tickling.” Sofia Grace stopped so abruptly she almost spilled her flat white. As it was the jarring motion broke the perfect little heart Helen had made with the milk. Slowly she approached, just to confirm what she was fairly certain she was hearing. It sounded like Magnusson, baritone with just a hint of Scandinavian coloring his otherwise impeccable English. It sounded just exactly like Director of Surgery Felix Magnusson reading the part of Hero from Much Ado About Nothing.

“Yet tell her of it: hear what she will say.” A younger voice replied. Sitting up in her hospital bed was a young woman, maybe sixteen. She was focusing very intently on reciting from memory her lines. Beside her sat Felix, glasses perched on his patrician nose which was firmly wedged in a tatty script copy of the Bard’s comedy.

“No; rather I will go to Benedick And counsel him to fight against his passion. And, truly, I'll devise some honest slanders To stain my cousin with: one doth not know How much an ill word may empoison liking.” Magnusson read. He made no effort to change his voice in any way – adopt an accent or sound more feminine. Sofia couldn’t decide if that was better or not. She couldn’t imagine the man adopting a falsetto and yet just thinking about it she desperately wished he had. She honestly also wouldn’t have imagined him sitting in the middle of his day with one of his patients to help her memorize lines either. And yet here he was.

“Line?” The girl had sat quietly for a few moments, staring hard into the middle distance.

“You know it, just try.” Felix looked up at the young woman, his tone encouraging. There was something different about his voice. About him. It was the same gentleness he’d shown Addie, a sort of parental mien that occasionally popped out in unexpected places. He was capable of patience, of kindness, of all the fatherly virtues. Just not when it came to anyone he worked with. Tamara had been crying in the bathroom on Harvey earlier. She didn’t even want to cry in the bathroom on Irene, just in case. Tamara had only been out of school a few months and literally looked like she was twelve. One would think such a combination would bring fatherly Felix to the fore. That was, however, not the case, apparently.

“She cannot be so much without true judgement--” the girl began. Felix clicked his tongue.

“Not quite. The line begins, ‘Oh, do not do your cousin such a wrong’.”

“Got it.” The girl gave a decisive nod. “O, do not do your cousin such a wrong. She cannot be so much without true judgment-- Having so swift and excellent a wit as she is prized to have--as to refuse So rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick.”

“Very good.” He returned his attention to the script. “He is the only man of Italy. Always excepted my dear Claudio.”

And so they continued, ‘Ursula’ reciting from memory and Magnusson correcting her as necessary. It was not a good performance by any means, both were too flat for that and the setting left something to be desired, even by ‘random adaptations of Shakespeare’ standards. Nonetheless Sofia felt not great urge to interrupt them. Nor was she ready to walk away either. In the midafternoon sun and the overhead light Magnusson looked relaxed, almost charming. The rays glinted off the slight red gold undertone in his curls. He must’ve run his hands through his hair recently, and frequently, it was not as tamed as it usually was. The gel was broken up and his hair was almost Byronic. Adding to the image of the hero, his aubergine colored tie was slightly loosened and the top button of his pale blue dress shirt was undone.

“… I'll show thee some attires and have thy counsel Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow.” His fingers were long and slender sprawled across the cover of the script. In another context one might say he had musicians’ hands.

“She's limed, I warrant you: we have caught her, madam.” ‘Ursula’ looked up from her middle-distance staring and caught her watching. She colored brightly, her ears turning scarlet under her mop of professionally caramel colored hair.

“If it proves so, then loving goes by haps: Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.” Magnusson did not notice her, nor his patient’s embarrassment and finished the dialogue as evenly before. He slid his glasses off his nose and into his pocket. He looked up to ‘Ursula’ and then followed her gaze to Sofia Grace. Their eyes met and she could see his ears tint, yet he arched a brow as if challenging her to say something.

“What fire is in mine ears?” Ms. Hale was smirking, her cayenne lips twisting smugly and her eyes twinkling with delight.

“Ms. Hale.” He shouldn’t feel embarrassed, but her eyes pinned him.

“Go on!” Bridget chirped. She’d gone from embarrassed to intrigued in seconds. Ms. Hale smiled brightly.

“Can this be true? Stand I condemned for pride and scorn so much?” She had the delivery of a thespian, which he was hardly surprised. Her every day comportment was dramatic, why should she be anything less than theatrical when actually reciting Shakespeare. “Ummm…” And then she paused. Looked thoughtful for a moment. And sipped her coffee to buy some time. Being lefthanded logos on mugs never faced out when she drank out of them, but he could tell it was her Wonder Woman mug. As far as Felix could tell she didn’t own any other mugs. “Contempt, farewell! And maiden pride, adieu! And that’s all I can remember.” She gave a charming shrug.

“No glory lives behind the backs of such.” The script was still open loosely in his hand, so it was easy to check Beatrice’s next line. She stared at him for a moment and he read on, “And Benedick, love on-”

“I will requite thee!” She jumped in, clearly her memory jogged. “Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand: If thou love, my kindness shall incite thee to bind our loves in a holy band; for others say thou dost deserve, and I believe it better than reportingly! HA! Nailed it.” She exclaimed with a fist pump.

“Ah! Not quite.”

“What?” Both surgeon and student stared at him.

“If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee to bind our loves up in a holy band…”

“Oh, come on! After twenty years you’re going to ding me on two words? The spirit is the same!”

“Let’s apply to the director then.” Bridget looked between them both.

“I’d say that’s good enough after …twenty years?!” Ms. Hale gave him a cheeky smile over the rim of her coffee mug.

“I know, right?!” She preened.

“It seems like it should be longer ago, doesn’t it?”

“Hey!” Bridget dissolved into peels of laughter. Felix could feel the smile spread across his lips. It was perhaps not the best dig, but it was so perfectly set up. “Just because you’re jealous of my theatrical chops-”

“I would have you know that I made a fine Thespian in the sixth form.”

“Who were you? The messenger boy?”

“Sir Andrew Aguecheek.” Ms. Hale visibly chocked on her coffee. He couldn’t blame her; it was not the role he’d have cast himself in either. But Aguecheek was supposed to be a ridiculous man and at sixteen he had been all arms and legs and knobby, awkward angles.

“WHAT?” She chocked, thumping herself in the chest like it might help. “Was this one of those instances that it was for a class and they had to cast everyone, even if it meant combining or breaking up parts to get the right numbers?” It had been for class credit, but he would never admit that. Instead he stood and handed the script back.

“Bridget, if you need further help with your lines, I think it’s obvious who you should ask.”

“You’ve been a big help, Mr. M.”

“You haven’t forgotten our three o’clock appointment I see.” Magnusson commented as he keyed in the five-digit code to his office door.

“How could I, you’re in check!”

“Not for much longer, Ms. Hale. Not for very much longer.” They had been at this particular match for the last three weeks, ever since the machines incident and her opening move. A normal chess match should not take so long, however, they had yet to play even fifteen minutes in a single sitting. Emergencies had no concept of time so even with all the planning, getting to be in the same room at the same time was difficult. She hadn’t even realized she’d put him in check until later, she’d been distracted by her pager when she’d made the move. (Not that she’d admit that to him).

She follows him into his office, it is more familiar to her now, almost as familiar as it was when Charlotte was DOS. Over the course of their several chess moves (it’s hard to call them matches when they don’t even last as long as a cup of coffee sometimes) she and he have developed a routine. Upon entering his office he would immediately turn on the hot water kettle he kept in a discreet corner by his desk, he would then empty his pockets, carefully placing his cellphone on his desk, and then he would bring his tea set to the table. Magnusson took his fancy leaf water quite seriously, carefully choosing the tea he wanted from a selection of loose-leaf options, measuring it out precisely into the teapot, and occasionally going so far as to get up and adjust the water temperature on the kettle. The tea set would always include the tea pot, a single cup and saucer and a 350gram jar with three beautiful biscuits in it. And not the store-bought kind either, biscuits clearly made by an individual.

While Magnusson carefully matched his tea to whatever sweet treat he’d brought with him that day (florentines with Darjeeling, palmiers and chamomile, shortbread with earl grey, gingerbread and lemon tea) Sofia Grace would kick off her heels and snoop examine his artwork. All of the photos on his walls were signed works, the vast majority taken by an Ingrid Karpe. He had a small collection of sculptures as well, all contemporary looking and rather abstract, although the one on his desk was clearly a fish. Just like the photo on his desk was clearly his son. Magnusson would never say anything as she examined his small gallery, but she was aware that he was aware of where she was looking. If he wouldn’t offer, she wouldn’t ask, even if it did pique her curiosity – why did so many of the photos have seemingly the same subject? Where was that dark-haired little boy now?

Eventually, when it looked like Magnusson’s little tea ritual was nearly finished Sofia Grace would return to the sofa, curling into one of the corners, her bare feet tucked up under her as she’d lean on the arm. Rather than face off against one another over the small conference table in his office he moved his chessboard to the end table between them. He stopped offering her tea early on, since she always brought her coffee. And so coffee versus tea, black versus white faced off. She would accept his biscuits, however.

“Is that a bakery digestive biscuit?” It was. A lightly brown, crunchy-tender semi-sweet meal biscuit. It was thicker than the digestives from the store, but it was unmistakable. “Holy shit, I didn’t know you could actually makethese. You have got to give me the name of your bakery.”

“I’m allowed to have some secrets.”

“Oh, come on.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He gave her a smug smile over the rim of his tea. It was the sort of expression that told her he wouldn’t pressed further. At least not at the moment.

“You’ve acquired a new nickname.” They had settled into the game, digestives devoured. Magnusson had deftly saved his king for checkmate and they were now back to a nearly cat game. During her yearlong recovery she had had nothing to do but play lots of chess, learn German, and read many, many trashy romance novels. Sofia Grace knew she was good at chess, but Magnuson was something else entirely. (Not that she’d ever tell him that).

“If you going to try to get people to call me Sir Andrew Aguecheek, I’m going to have to draw a line.”

“Ooo, I hadn’t thought of that! Brilliant!” Her eyes sparkled at him, like stars dancing. It was perhaps the first time those dark eyes sparkled at him. He had seen them sparkle before, for others. But at him they only ever spat fire, or at best, flinty sparks. And now they were sparkling for him. The sight whipped through him like the first cold wind of winter – he was completely unprepared; his breath caught; senses tingled. He could feel it cut through him to the very core.

“Don’t you dare.” He felt slight pride in being able to speak like he was unaffected. Ms. Hale’s white knight retreated slightly, smartly. She smiled.

“In addition to Sir Andrew Aguecheek, you’ve acquired a new nickname.” After thoughtful deliberation he moved his bishop to C4. Felix had expected her to be as rash a chess player as she was a person. He’d heard tell that she’d once incited an abusive husband of a patient to punch her in the face in the middle of the hall so there was more concrete evidence pointing to his violent temper and to buy time for the man’s partner to finish giving their statement to the police. She had absolutely no sense of self-preservation, as far as he could tell. And yet when she played chess, her moves were anything but impulsive. He had expected this game to be over by now, but she had surprised him as an opponent.

“Don’t people have better things to do?”

“It wouldn’t be a hospital without gossip.” Her quip was only halfhearted as she studied the board. He sipped his tea and waited – for either her move or his apparent new nickname, whichever came first.

“Well, what is it?” She’d studied the board for what felt like an hour before she carefully moved her pawn. “It can’t be worse than ‘Björn the Slasher’…” A few of his monikers had made their way to his ears. None of them were good – they were both disdainful as well as lazy and stupid. A smörgåsbord of Swedish stereotypes peppered with some tortured reference to his height.

“That one’s hilarious.”

“It makes me sound like a camp horror villain.” She gave him a look over her mug that clearly said, ‘well, aren’t you?’ “If you’re going to tell me about ‘Fucking Felix’, I’m aware.” Alliterative, yes, creative, no.

“That’s hardly a nickname and more a general reaction whenever we have to work with you.” He stared blankly at her, for want of a response – other than to note that their colleagues were more than a little dramatic.

“Well what is it then? Is it the abominable snow man? The Snow King, perhaps? The Ice Giant? Felix the Herring? Hurdy Gurdy – which I really don’t get by the way. Dr. No perhaps?” And then there were the more hurtful ones like Dr. Death or the Angel of Death. But it was truly ridiculous the names he’d been called in the short time he’d been at Saint Sebastian’s.

“Don’t forget the good humor man.” She added brightly. Ah, non-literary irony. He thought sarcastically. They lapsed into temporary silence as they studied the board.

“Doctor Damocles.” Ms. Hale said after carefully removing his captured pawn from the board. It made him start.

“Dr. Damocles – That doesn’t even make sense!” He was well familiar with Damocles, the obsequious courtier of Dionysius II of Syracuse and the moral anecdote about him.

“You’re the harbinger of impending doom! Looming about, threatening everyone’s job, scaring people half to death. You’ve made five people cry since you’ve gotten here – three F1s, two F2s, plus Tamara Aquilarios just this morning!” Ah, that interpretation of the tale, he remembered it well – and paid dearly for it. Just listening he could feel the sting of his father’s hand across his cheek. His first summer home from boarding school his father had insisted that rather than make noise around the house he dedicate his time to something useful and worthwhile – translating all five books of the Tusculanae Disputationes. Every night his father had marked his translations. There had been no room for error. There was never allowed any room for error. It was one of his earliest lessons.

“But that’s not the point of the parable at all. The sword doesn’t just represent, oh, something terrible is going to happen, but it’s about realizing that what looks like an enviable life – a life of wealth, power, and luxury is, in fact, fraught with anxiety, terror, and possibly death.” She stared at him blankly for a long moment.

“God, you really are an insufferable pedant, aren’t you?”

“I’m just saying, the nickname is fundamentally wrong.”

“This would be why we call you ‘Fucking Felix’.” He had nothing to say to that and so he returned his focus entirely to the pieces on the board and his mostly consumed cup of breakfast blend (a choice he made as it complimented his biscuits, ignoring the fact it was after three o’clock). For a move they were both quiet. Focused.

Ms. Hale licked her cayenne lips, they were slightly faded, the color having transferred from full mouth to the rim of her mug in a distinctive kiss, making the cup as hers more than the motif on the outside could. There was some intimacy in seeing her without that flawless signature color, even if it was a fleeting moment before she touched it up and returned about her day.

He was distracted by the red bow of her mouth rather than listening to the words coming out of it.

“But seriously,” She was saying, “we can’t go on like the anymore. The cuts, the redundancies. Everyone in this hospital is running scared. You can’t run a hospital like it’s some company, we’re here to make people better, for God’s sake, not turn a profit.”

“You know that the hospital is not a for profit company, and I know that the hospital is not a for profit company,” She looked at him skeptically, both forgetting the chess match for a little while. “But it has been made abundantly clear to me that the Foundation Trust board does not care. They are interested in seeing healthy profit margins, strong financials in general, efficient staff, and an impeccable reputation. The austere, and only the austere, will survive.”

“Making nurses cry, terrorizing the staff, you think this is going to make Saint Sebastian’s a better hospital, this is how we achieve FT status?”

“Ensuring that the staff are fulfilling their roles and obligations, that nurses are performing proper procedures and tests and running effective bed checks will go a long way toward our Foundation Trust application, particularly since Sir Stewart Frazier, Angus Black, Tristan Guy will be looking over our shoulders for the foreseeable future. They start their on grounds audit Monday.”

Sofia Grace felt herself choke on air. Monday?! The audit starts Monday?!

“The audit starts next week, and you didn’t think to tell us yet?” She was incredulous.

“I myself did not know until this afternoon when Sir Stewart called me.”

“And you decided to read Shakespeare and play chess rather than inform us of this?!” Magnusson sat his teacup down on the table, she momentarily worried that it would have broken, the thud was so heavy sounding.

“I am not one to just fire off emails, saying whatever it is I’m feeling as I feel it. I think before I speak, and in this case, I wanted to think quite carefully about what I should put in such an email. Rest assured, there will be notification by the end of the day regarding this development.”

“You can’t just keep secrets from us!”

“I am hardly keeping this a secret.” His tone was as frosty as Lappland. “Everyone will know by the end of the day, once I have time to sit down and draft the email. Didn’t I ask you to have some faith in me?” She opened her mouth to protest, it was hardly a lack of faith when he literally said he would inform people when he felt like it. He cut off her retort, however. “Regarding Nurse Aquilarios, on the topic of having some faith in me, did you bother to find out the context in which I apparently made her cry?” His delivery was nothing like any rant she was familiar with, certainly nothing like her own style which built and built and built until she exploded like a steam engine without a valve. Instead he was cold, even, and brooking no interruption. “I asked her why a patient hadn’t had a pregnancy test performed. She had skipped the routine procedure in order to save time and because the patient had said they were not pregnant. It’s how she has been able to get such good bed check times. It turns out the patient was actually pregnant, which of course meant an entirely different treatment plan.”

“Your asking had her in tears in the women’s loo! She’s only been out of school six months you know.” Ah, to be young. She wouldn’t do it again for a million dollars. Tamara was maybe 23. It seemed so long ago now but the fear was something she’d ever forget.

“Then it should be fresher in her mind than others that routine procedures become routine for a reason: they serve important purposes and it’s not for us to arbitrarily decide what really is or isn’t important.”

“She’s a good kid, cut her some slack.” Sofia Grace was still skeptical about his just “asking” Tamara rather than yelling at her – the young nurse had been a mess of runny mascara when she had stumbled upon her in the toilet, but she was inclined to agree with Magnusson on the general point. Running a pregnancy test on anyone with a uterus was an important habit to have. There were a surprising number of otherwise competent people who nevertheless weren’t 100% up to date or correct about their current health or health history.

“She has all the makings of an excellent nurse, if she could master the basics of routine procedures and confirming what we think we know, rather than assuming or simply taking someone’s word for it.” It was perhaps the nicest thing she’d heard him say about anyone, except for perhaps immediately after she impressed him with her trick to avoid cracking the chest of a young chef to repair their punctured artery.

“Have you considered telling her this?”

“I censure when there is a need to censure and I praise when there is reason to praise. I won’t go out of my way to do either.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to be nice, you know.” Perhaps it would, it was so hard to tell. There were moments. Flashes of kindness in him. And then, well, he made grown men cry. For a long time they just stared at each other, chess match forgotten between them as a battle of wills took all of their strategic thinking. Without his glasses it was easier to see his eyes. They were nice eyes - sable colored, with long, thick dark lashes – the kind mascara companies were forever trying to replicate.

A shrill beep broke the silence – and their eye contact. Both reached for their pagers.

“Schiße.” He was grateful for the interruption, as piercing as it was. Her eyes had stopped dancing and they had taken a hard, flinty expression. They unnerved him, her eyes. He knew they could steal his soul. They were eyes that could lead a man to hell.

“I’ve got to go.” She began putting on her shoes. “Same time tomorrow?” He stood with her. In her smart heels she was still a head shorter than he was. It was noticeable when they stood next to each other, but so easy to forget given the size of her personality.

“I will have to check, there are some meetings for me to attend before the board begins their audit.”

“Well, you have my number.” She gave him a polite smile, her face a mask of professional focus. Once she was out of his office and off to Harvey, he carefully cleaned up the remnants of his tea and then sat heavily at his desk. With a sigh he opened a new message.

Dear Colleagues…

#Hospital Romance Drama #Cait writes #original fiction #Sofia Grace is Chaotic Good chaffing under Lawful Good Rules #I know nothing about Chess #much ado about nothing #Much ado about the Bard

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lgbtqiahistoricalromance · 6 years ago

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LGBTQIA Historical Romances with Artists, Poets, Thespians, Musicians, Dancers, and Bohemians - July 2018

Jalendu by Mark Andrew

- Set in the turbulent twilight of the reign of the Mughal Emperor of India, Jalaluddin Akbar, Jalendu tell the story of the socially awkward, but politically important young Prince Adinath and Jali, a handsome, spiritually inclined farm boy who becomes his bodyguard. Their unlikely friendship and love changes the fate of the empire. The small kingdom of Vindhyagarh sits in the Vindhya foothills between Prince Salim, the rebellious son of the emperor and self-declared Sultan of Ilahabad (present day Allahabad) and his powerful Bundela Rajput ally, Maharaja Vir Singh Deo of Orchha. But Salim in truth is no rebel. He is loyal to the power behind the throne, the women of the imperial household. The court nobility, led by the emperor's vizier Abul Fazl, see their power evaporating as the emperor seems powerless to oppose the wishes of the empresses or to act against his disobedient eldest son. They fear that when Salim become emperor, they will be reduced to mere servants. Abul Fazl vows that Salim will never sit on the imperial throne. Rana Jayaram of Vindhyagarh wants peace, but his efforts to ensure it draw his kingdom into a very dangerous political game. His youngest son has rarely left the palace because of illness and spends his time reading ancient Sanskrit texts, drawing and composing poetry. His only friends are his brother's widow and his old tutor. Jayaram sees a chance to extract his kingdom from danger by an alliance with the influential Kachwahas. An alliance by the marriage of Prince Adinath to a Kachwaha princess would not only tie Vindhyagarh to a Rajput house more loyal to the empire but into the imperial family itself.

On Wings of Song by Anne Barwell

- Six years after meeting British soldier Aiden Foster during the Christmas Truce of 1914, Jochen Weber still finds himself thinking about Aiden, their shared conversation about literature, and Aiden’s beautiful singing voice. A visit to London gives Jochen the opportunity to search for Aiden, but he’s shocked at what he finds.The uniform button Jochen gave him is the only thing Aiden has left of the past he’s lost. The war and its aftermath ripped everything away from him, including his family and his music. When Jochen reappears in his life, Aiden enjoys their growing friendship but knows he has nothing to offer. Not anymore.

The Reluctant Berserker by Alex Beecroft Review (Gorgeous writing, and an unusual case of a dominant musician and a submissive warrior.)

- Dark Ages England. Among the Saxons, a warrior is the highest form of human life. He dominates all, he yields to none, and if ever this mastery is taken away, his honour is taken with it. Reluctant berserker, Wulfstan, a noble and fearsome warrior, has spent most of his life trying to hide the fact that he would love to be cherished and taken care of by someone stronger than himself. Slight and beautiful harper, Leofgar, has the opposite problem – how can he keep the trained killers off him long enough to get them to acknowledge he’s as much of a man as any of them? When, in a panic, Wulfstan accidentally kills a friend who is about to blurt out his secret, and Leofgar flees rather than submit to his lord’s lust, they meet on the road to the pilgrims’ shrine at Ely. Pursued by a mother’s curse and Leofgar’s vengeful lord, they must battle guilt, outlaws, and the powers of the underworld with the aid of only music and a female saint. And if they fall in love on the way, there’s still that murderous shame to overcome.

Treading the Boards series by Tess Bowery (author’s Tumblr)

Rite of Summer: Gay men in a disaster!triad. Sex solves a lot of things, but actually talking about problems solves more. Not a poly ending.

She Whom I Love: Bisexual best friends share a very confused (yet grateful) straight man. Disaster is narrowly averted. A very poly ending.*

*Shortlisted twice for the Bisexual Book Awards, 2015 - Best Romance, Best Erotic Fiction.

That Potent Alchemy: Genderqueer ballet dancer hates gender, ballet, and emotional connection. Macbeth helps. No poly in this one at all.

Artemis by Jessica Cale (trans male hero/bisexual heroine)

- Actress Charlotte Halfpenny is in trouble. Pregnant, abandoned by her lover, and out of a job, Charlotte faces eviction two weeks before Christmas. When the reclusive Earl of Somerton makes her an outrageous offer, she has no choice but to accept. Could he be the man of her dreams, or is the nightmare just beginning?

Apollo Somerton has been in love with Charlotte for a decade, seeing each of her plays multiple times, despite being a man that otherwise keeps to himself. After Charlotte finds herself pregnant, she almost resorts to drastic measures, but Somerton rescuers her and makes her an offer she can’t refuse. But, despite his adoration and beauty, Charlotte knows being an actress didn’t prepare her for the role of wife to an Earl, and others will stop at nothing to keep the pair from getting married.

This is a sweet novella, with a frankly adorable leading man. Handsome and devoted, he has a secret, but love with persevere. Some aspects of the novella are a little far-fetched, but the love story makes it totally worthwhile. (Contains mentions of period-typical homophobia and transphobia. Trans male leading man, and bisexual heroine.)

25% proceeds donated to Equality NC, and 25% to the Malala fund

Think of England by KJ Charles Mini Review

- Lie back and think of England... England, 1904. Two years ago, Captain Archie Curtis lost his friends, fingers, and future to a terrible military accident. Alone, purposeless and angry, Curtis is determined to discover if he and his comrades were the victims of fate, or of sabotage. Curtis's search takes him to an isolated, ultra-modern country house, where he meets and instantly clashes with fellow guest Daniel da Silva. Effete, decadent, foreign, and all-too-obviously queer, the sophisticated poet is everything the straightforward British officer fears and distrusts. As events unfold, Curtis realizes that Daniel has his own secret intentions. And there's something else they share-a mounting sexual tension that leaves Curtis reeling. As the house party's elegant facade cracks to reveal treachery, blackmail and murder, Curtis finds himself needing clever, dark-eyed Daniel as he has never needed a man before... Warning: Contains explicit male/male encounters, ghastly historical attitudes, and some extremely stiff upper lips.

The Actor and the Earl by Rebecca Cohen (Three book series, w/Sebastian playing his own twin sister in all three.)

- Elizabethan actor Sebastian Hewel takes his bow at the proscenium only to embark on the role of a lifetime. When his twin sister, Bronwyn, reneges on the arrangement to marry Anthony Redbourn, Earl of Crofton, Sebastian reluctantly takes her place. At nineteen, Sebastian knows his days as a leading lady are numbered, but with this last performance, he hopes to restore his family’s name and pay off his late father’s debts. Never mind the danger of losing his head should he be discovered.He didn’t expect Anthony to be so charming and alluring—not to mention shrewd. While he applauds Sebastian’s plan, Anthony offers a mutually beneficial arrangement instead. Sebastian will need every drop of talent he has to survive with both his head and his heart intact, because this is the best part he’s ever had.

You Must Remember This: A Gay Retelling of Casablanca by John Michael Curlovich

- You Must Remember This is an homage to the classic film Casablanca on the 75th anniversary of the film’s release in America. It is the height of World War II. Frank Chandler is an American GI who has been separated from the army on a “blue discharge.” Along with his musician friend and sometime lover Dan Jackson, he finds himself in Marrakesh (only a short distance away from Casablanca), an international city where every kind of pleasure is easily available. But Marrakesh is also a city of danger. The Nazis are establishing themselves there, and their ominous presence means life is fraught with peril. Then Lilli, a beautiful, mysterious woman from Frank’s past, shows up unexpectedly, and he finds himself confronted with the hardest choice of his life. Lilli’s presence stirs emotions he thought he had buried. Yet there is still the city—and its men—and the thousand pleasures it offers… Should Frank go with Lilli and try to make a “normal” life with her? Or should he follow what he increasingly believes to be his true nature? That is the dramatic conflict at the heart of You Must Remember This.

My Lord, Lady, and Gentleman - Book Three of the Surrey SFS series by Nicola Davidson (m/m/f)

- Welcome to the Surrey Sexual Freedom Society - where unconventional and uninhibited ladies and gentlemen discuss all matters erotic... Estranged from his aristocratic family for choosing art over a third son’s proper path, Mr. Clayton Irving lives in wretched circumstances. His only joys are his friends and an extraordinary talent for sensual portraits, until the perfect opportunity arises: paint ton empress Lady Susanna Fenton. All his financial woes gone…if he can hide his fierce craving for her—and even more forbidden—her husband Lord Joseph Fenton.

In the eyes of the world the Fentons have it all: staggering wealth, position, and a caring union. Yet their smiles hide a marriage broken by secrets and pretense. The wicked portrait is a last effort to save it, and Susanna and Joseph soon discover that sinfully handsome Clayton is key to a passionate and happy new start for them all. But secrets always reveal themselves, and those who break the rules are punished. Can an unconventional ménage truly defy all for love?

The Bohemian and the Banker by Bonnie Dee and Summer Devon

- A night lost in Paris finds two hearts changed forever. Sent to Paris on business, Nigel Warren doesn’t quite understand why his colleagues’ eyes twinkle as they tell him to meet them at a local night spot. When he discovers it’s a drag cabaret and his acquaintances aren’t there, he realizes he’s the butt of a joke. Yet he finds himself quite undone by a singer dressed in an elegant gown, crooning a spellbinding ballad. It’s not unusual for Jay, a former Londoner, to bring a new “friend” home from the cabaret, but he’s never had a guest quite like Nigel, whose straitlaced manner hides an unexpected passionate streak. One romantic night on a rooftop under starry skies, followed by an afternoon enjoying the excitement of the 1901 Paris Exposition, bonds these opposites in a way neither can forget—even after they part. Their spark reignites when Jay comes to London, but he’s not sure he can go back to hiding his true self, not even for the sake of love…unless Nigel is willing to shed his cloak of staid respectability and take a leap of faith.

Robby Riverton: Mail Order Bride by Eli Easton

- Being a fugitive in the old west shouldn’t be this much fun. The year is 1860. Robby Riverton is a rising star on the New York stage. But he witnesses a murder by a famous crime boss and is forced to go on the run--all the way to Santa Fe. When he still hasn't ditched his pursuers, he disguises himself as a mail order bride he meets on the wagon train. Caught between gangsters that want to kill him, and the crazy, uncouth family of his "intended", Robby's only ally is a lazy sheriff who sees exactly who Robby is -- and can't resist him. Trace Crabtree took the job as sheriff of Flat Bottom because there was never a thing going on. And then Robby Riverton showed up. Disguised as a woman. And betrothed to Trace’s brother. If that wasn’t complication enough, Trace had to find the man as appealing as blueberry pie. He urges Robby to stay undercover until the danger has passed. But a few weeks of having Robby-Rowena at the ranch, and the Crabtree family will never be the same again. Damn, what a kerfuffle. If only Trace can get rid of the fugitive while hanging on to his own stupid heart.

A Brush with Darkness by Erastes

- Florence, 1875 After making a grisly discovery one night, I needed proof that there was still goodness in the world. I never dreamt it would come to me during my next commission—with a subject whose very name means light... Yuri was glorious in his otherworldly beauty, surrounded by a bright halo of iridescence, but I detected a fierce darkness lurking underneath the surface. Sketching all night, I could hardly wait to capture his likeness in a painting. For Yuri has stimulated not only my creative urges, but my sexual ones as well. His very presence infuses me with joy and passion, but what will happen if my patron should discover our trysts? Dependent on his good graces, I can't afford to lose his support. But I fear the time will soon come when I must choose between restoring my family's fortunes and obeying the temptation of the muse before me... Previously published as Chiaroscuro, newly revised by author.

The Matinee Idol by Owen Keehnen

- LOVE IN THE SILENT FILM ERA... At the height of the roaring 1920s, Raymond Richmond leaves Iowa and heads for Hollywood with dreams of silent film stardom in his head. In Los Angeles, he meets Brick, the ruggedly handsome cowboy of his dreams. Soon the two are a couple. When Raymond film career takes off, he is pressured to choose between stardom and Brick. Afraid of passing up his dream, Raymond chooses his career. As Raymond’s star ascends, he attempts to fill the void Brick has left in a number of ways. Eventually, his career begins to suffer and shortly after the advent of talkies, Raymond hits rock bottom. Desperate and alone, he is prostituting himself to feed his addiction to alcohol. But fate intervenes and reunites Raymond with Brick. However, Brick carries deep wounds from their past as well. Can the former lovers overcome the demons and betrayal of the past and find happiness once again? Spanning over a decade, Owen Keehnen’s The Matinee Idol is a timeless tale about second chances and the redemptive power of love.

Convincing the Secretary - Book Two of the London Legal series by Ava March (Included due to Edward’s true calling.)

- Business and pleasure is a mix no gentleman should consider. Lord Grayson Holloway goes after what he wants—be it in the law office on his clients’ behalf or in the bedchamber. His new position as partner puts him closer to achieving his goal of becoming the most successful solicitor in London. There’s just one problem—his new secretary. Broad of shoulder yet mild of manner, Edward tempts Gray like no other. Yet the young man barely notices him. Edward Fenton tries to be a good secretary, but being in Lord Grayson’s hard, commanding presence rouses Edward’s most forbidden desires. Wicked, naughty desires no gentleman should consider giving in to, let alone with his new employer. Gray is more than willing to mix business with pleasure. But convincing Edward to take a chance on a future with him? That might be the most challenging case Gray has ever taken on. Warning: Includes buttoned-up gentlemen who become undone, improper use of a desk, spankings, and a big bad lord who has a soft spot for his virgin secretary.

A Wager of Love by Katherine Marlowe (Review pending, but this is included, because Gilbert and Laurence have long conversations about poetry and philosophy, and they do a little acting in pursuit of their goal. This was a delightful book, using the thoughts and concepts of the time period to great effect.

- Laurence Aberforth has never been in love. The first time he meets the impulsive and charming Gilbert Heckwith, he accepts a wager as to whether or not true love exists in the world. Amidst the playful flirtation of their new friendship, they explore the concept of love through philosophy and poetry, and the two of them ultimately find the proof of their wager in each other. Clean romance, no cheating, no cliffhangers, standalone novella.

Such a Dance by Kate McMurray

- New York City, 1927. Eddie Cotton is a talented song-and-dance man with a sassy sidekick, a crowd-pleasing act, and a promising future on Broadway. What he doesn’t have is someone to love. Being gay in an era of prohibition and police raids, Eddie doesn’t have many opportunities to meet men like himself—until he discovers a hot new jazz club for gentlemen of a certain bent...and sets eyes on the most seductive, and dangerous, man he’s ever seen. Lane Carillo is a handsome young Sicilian who looks like Valentino—and works for the Mob. He’s never hidden his sexuality from his boss, which is why he was chosen to run a private night club for men. When Lane spots Eddie at the bar, it’s lust at first sight. Soon, the unlikely pair are falling hard and fast—in love. But when their whirlwind romance starts raising eyebrows all across town, Lane and Eddie have to decide if their relationship is doomed…or something special worth fighting for.

The First Act by Vanessa Mulberry

- April 1594. William Moodie thinks he’s in love with celebrated actor Richard Brasyer. When Brasyer’s playing company, Goldfox’s Men, comes to town, William is only too willing to leave his country life for the opportunities of the theater and a life in London. Determined to become Richard’s apprentice, William seeks to impress his mentor with his acting—and please him in bed.Meanwhile, Richard struggles to escape his past as a spy and disentangle himself from the manipulations of his former master and ex-lover, Bennett Goldfox. Swearing off a relationship with his new apprentice proves difficult for Richard, as William uses all his youthful charms to seduce him. When Bennett’s life is threatened, Richard is lured back into the game for one final mission, and he and William travel to Cambridge to hunt down a list of traitors to the Crown.In the midst of danger and deception, Richard and William come to truly see each other, faults and all, and realize their feelings run deeper than either expected.

Palace Dog by RE Nelson

- In April 1975, as the government in Saigon is falling, Michael Andrews prepares to make his way back to Vietnam to find the love he was forced to leave. But Michael’s journey begins four years earlier. He joins the Air Force to keep out of the Army and out of Vietnam, but his first assignment is teaching English in Saigon to members of the Vietnamese military in an Army program called Palace Dog. As an artist, and a man, before his time in Vietnam, Michael found life lonely and unsatisfying. In the midst of war, Michael searches for direction and meaning. He ultimately finds love and hope with Thao, a young Vietnamese art student, only to have their already uncertain future wrenched from them when he is pulled out of the country. For Michael, his return in 1975 is inevitable and without question, though the outcome he hopes for is anything but assured.

The Viscount and the Artist by Alyson Pearce (The Eccentrics Book 1) (Review pending, but this was a lovely surprise. I expected a slap-dash May/December romance, but these characters were actually worked out, and Jeremy stays true to his convictions in spite of everything working against him. Andrew has a crisis, but they work through it together.)

- Andrew Cardwell is a man driven by duty to his country and to his family. After the death of his uncle, he’s determined to provide security and stability for his family as the new Viscount Cardwell—even if that means marrying and producing an heir. Surprising himself, Andrew decides to sponsor a young artist named Jeremy for the season, to help him find a patron. What he doesn’t anticipate is how well Jeremy fits in his bed…and his life. Jeremy Leighton knows what it’s like to be a disappointment. The only son of a vicar, he’s refused to follow the path his father set for him, choosing his passion for art, instead. He accepts Andrew’s proposal, hoping to prove to his father—and himself—that he can succeed as an artist. After spending time with Andrew in and out of bed, Jeremy struggles not to fall for the damaged viscount, knowing the season will likely end in Andrew’s engagement. Between a meddling cousin, a widow on the hunt for a new husband, and their own doubts about the relationship, how can Andrew and Jeremy shed the expectations of others to find true happiness?

Juliana by Vanda (f/f)

- New York City, 1941. Alice “Al” Huffman and her childhood friends are fresh off the potato farms of Long Island and bound for Broadway. Al’s plans for stage success are abruptly put on hold when she’s told she has no talent. As she gets a job to pay for acting classes, Al settles into a normal life with her friends and a boyfriend. It all changes when she meets Juliana.A singer on the brink of stardom, Juliana is everything Al isn’t: glamorous, talented, and queer. The farm girl is quickly enthralled, experiencing thoughts and feelings she never realized were possible. Al finds herself slipping between two worlds: the gay underground and the “normal” world of her childhood friends. It’s a balancing act she can handle until the two worlds begin to collideIn a city bursting with change, can Alice find what she was looking for all along?Juliana: Volume 1: 1941-1944 is a captivating work of LGBT historical romance. If you like extensively researched settings, spell-binding storytelling, and characters you can’t help but fall for, then you’ll love the first book in award-winning playwright Vanda’s new Juliana series.

Nightingale by Aleksandr Voinov

- In Nazi-occupied Paris, most Frenchmen tread warily, but gay nightclub singer Yves Lacroix puts himself in the spotlight with every performance. As a veteran of France’s doomed defense, a survivor of a prison camp, and a “degenerate,” he knows he’s a target. His comic stage persona disguises a shamed, angry heart and gut-wrenching fear for a sister embedded in the Resistance. Yet Yves ascends the hierarchy of Parisian nightlife to become a star, attracting the attention—and the protection—of the Nazi Oberst Heinrich von Starck. To complicate matters further, young foot soldier Falk Harfner’s naïve adoration of Yves threatens everything he’s worked for. So does Aryan ideologue von Grimmstein, rival to von Starck, who sees something “a bit like a Jew” in Yves. When an ill-chosen quip can mean torture at the hands of the Gestapo, being the acclaimed Nightingale of Paris might cost Yves his music and his life.

Ardent by Heloise West

- In the village of Torrenta, master painter Morello has created a color that mimics the most expensive pigment of all, the crimson red. Master Zeno, from strife-ridden Medici Florence, tells him the color gives him a competitive advantage – but Morello must be careful. Fraud is ever-present in the dye and pigment markets. As they work together in Torrenta, Morello falls hard for Zeno’s assistant, Benedetto Tagliaferro, a young man of uncommon beauty and intelligence. Benedetto is still fixed on his old lover, the master painter Leo Guisculo, and cannot return Morello’s affections. But when Leo dies in a terrible accident, it’s to Morello that Zeno and Benedetto turn for help. And Morello soon finds that in Florence, every surface hides layers of intrigue.

#lgbtqia romance #historical romance

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ofbclle-blog · 6 years ago

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headcanons and para sample

You got to dig a little deeper, find out who you are!

sometimes the world gets too much. even for belle. even for the resilient force of nature, she is. sometimes everything just gets…too much. she stayed strong for her father when her mother passed; afraid that he would fall apart and she wouldn’t be able to put him back together if she too fell apart. but sometimes, life fell heavy on her shoulders, and like atlas she had the struggle of holding it up. but she never truly rationalized or processed her mother’s death, and instead of doing so; she focused her energies into her father, and her books. but when her books weren’t enough, belle took to the floor. dancing was her only solace. she could spin and twirl and pirouette, and jump and stomp and tap all her energy and worry and frustrations away. dancing still is. now after a particularly difficult argument with adam, or a day where her adventures between the pages can’t quell her worries, when she feels like she is just existing and not actually living her life, she still takes to the floor, on pointe and ready to sweat it out.

you’re pretty for a bookworm. god it’s the most annoying sentence to her. it generally spikes annoyance within her. pretty for a bookworm. what did that even mean? a person was a person, regardless of the way they looked or what they enjoyed doing. why did her love of literature have anything to do with how she looked? and why was she judged a particular way? you’d get more boys attention if you put down the tolstoy. what an insipid thing to say, to think. who gave a rats ass? who cared if she got men? she didn’t. so why did people find it necessary to comment? why did people try to remove the book from her fingers and replace it with lipstick? why were books and beauty, not companions? the quickest way to anger belle; to insight something other than a collected and thoughtful response from her; is to insult her intelligence by bringing up her fair features; to pit those two aspects against one another. she will turn from pristine to provoked faster than you can say jack robinson. with such a sharp mind, belle can have a sharp tongue when needed.

belle loves greek mythology. so much so her guilty pleasure is reading YA novels involving greek mythology as there doesn’t seem to be any adult books addressing the vast possibility. granted she’s read american gods, which was excellent – she loves neil gaiman – and she’s dabbled in other authors who tackle more adult version of mythology in general – but greek mythology seemed to be an adolescent excitement. there are some outliers, margaret attwood’s novel the penelopiad being one; but…still she finds herself drawn, embarrassingly (but why they’re great) to rick riordan’s novels. she has also read a lot of old texts; including the odyssey which although fascinating do not provide the drama she enjoys. belle, somewhat, lives vicariously through the books she reads and the people she meets; and the adventures of percy jackson and his friends are thrilling. fighting against an evil for the good of others. belle often thinks she would do also. she likes annabeth and believes she’d also be a daughter of athena.

she’s not into gossip. she doesn’t like the vicious nature that is associated with it. but she loves to hear about people and their lives. she loves the ins and outs and twists and turns; the nuances of their speech and movement. body language and behavior was all part of the storytelling process. people are fascinating, and the way they live their lives/the decisions they make are also fascinating. and telling. belle will happily sit and listen to someone talk for hours; even about the most mundane things. if it’s told with enough passion or bravado, it’s not boring. it’s why sometimes she finds herself captivated by adam, even in the middle of an argument between the two. his passion rolls over him like a wave, and despite the fact he frustrates her with his stubbornness and provokes her with his temper, sometimes, he is captivating. she doesn’t necessarily enjoy this; that he can still have such a different effect on her. she likes knowing her mind, and around him, she doesn’t.

madam gaston, his little wife, ugh. gaston legume, belle’s shadow. whenever a moment stretches by and she’s not looking over her shoulder, he appears, hot on her heels. she left her phone sat on a coffee counter for a few minutes once, and he’d managed to put his number in her phone. of course, with a stretch of his grin, he explained away. you may be in trouble one day and need me. perhaps a heavy box needs lifting. perhaps you twist your ankle out in town and need someone to carry you home. blah blah blah blah blah. but he’s harmless. at least she thinks he is. and keeping his number in her phone saves him from nagging or pouring more attention onto her. belle’s not stupid. she knows he’s handsome, very much so. but he’s also dull and vapid and porous and a caveman. and completely not worthy of belle. belle has imagined a world in which she gave into gaston’s constant pining; she’d be bored out of her mind, insulted daily by his misogyny, tired of his vanity, but she’d be financially stable and her father would be looked after because of this. but even still. even as she works tirelessly to support her father and his inventions, she has far too much respect for herself and woman-kind to ever lower herself to that.

Think of a wonderful thought, any merry little thought!

She exhaled, rolling her eyes, keeping up her pace. Footsteps, larger than her own, sounded behind her. She clutched books to her chest, ones she’d decided to return to the local library; ones she’d kept in her person longer than necessary, re-reading them for their crafted words and beautiful escapism. Ones she no longer needed because, the Ashman home had a library in it, and Adam had allowed her to use it. God, that sounded pathetic. That, someone, had allowed her to use a room. Or, a wing– But she didn’t own a single thing in the house she resided in. Only the objects she’d brought with her from home, and those she’d acquired whilst staying there. So, in reality, she did need permission. And she was proper enough to wait for it. Yes, she was curious, and she’d certainly wandered into forbidden areas of the Ashman home before, but with something as precious as a library? She needed permission. She wouldn’t trespass and ruin its integrity, nor any chance to access it. Adam’s mood changed as often as the tide, and he could take his word back at any moment, and Belle’s happiness could often be found between the pages of books. She didn’t want to risk not being to access the vast collection.

Bella snorted. She sounded so dramatic. Footsteps became louder, reminding her why she moved quickly. To scurry away from Gaston as fast as she could. If she let him catch her up, she’d be stuck with his presence for however long he felt the need to annoy her.

“Belle!” his voice boomed. You could hear the charisma in it. She couldn’t deny that Gaston did hold charisma, and she could understand why some women bent over backward to get his attention. She could understand from an entirely vain and carnal point of view. If you ignored all the godawful personality traits he possessed, the neanderthal-like toxicity he irradiated. If you ignored that all. He was a handsome man. But Belle couldn’t ignore that. She couldn’t even side-step it enough to have a simple conversation with him.

“Belle, my love,”

He jogged to catch up with her.

Sweet lord give me strength, she thought.

“Gaston,” she replied tightly, but calmly.

“I was calling for you,” he told her, a brow prominently raised.

She feigned surprise. “You were? I must have been in my own world. I didn’t hear you at all,” she murmured. A likely excuse, as she so easily daydreamed through conversations and situations. Her mind wandered easily, exploring worlds she’d read or dreamed about.

“What am I going to do about you and your little daydreams?” he asked with a chuckle, a grin stretching across his face.

“What indeed,” Belle replied simply. She parted her lips. “Gaston, if you don’t mind, I’m in the middle of something and I–” she was cut off by Gaston.

“Belle, I’d like you to go to dinner with me this evening” he said in a thespian like manner.

Not again.

“I’ve booked an excellent French restaurant in downtown Carthay,” he continued.

She wondered when he’d give up. How many rejections would it take for him to move onto his next victim? No, that wasn’t fair on other women. But when would he give up? She wasn’t sure how long she could go through the motions they often went through.

“I’m busy, Gaston,” she replied finally. “I’m always busy,” she added. “I’m a live-in caretaker,” she reminded him. “I’m always working,” she said.

“You’re allowed time off, Belle. Do you want me to talk to him? I can arrange time off for you. Come to your rescue. I’m your knight in shining armor, babe,” he replied with a grin.

Belle stopped walking, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to gather some patience. “Even if I was free, I wouldn’t be spending my time with you. I’d see my father, or my friends. Or read a book. I wouldn’t be eating at a French restaurant with a man I’ve said no to, one hundred times before,” she finished curtly. “Good day, Gaston.”

With that, Belle continued to walk, happy to hear no footsteps following her. Once out of earshot she exhaled with somewhat of a growl. “God,” she muttered.

“Go on a date with me, babe,” she mimicked him.

“I’m your knight in shining armor, babe,”

“I don’t bite, babe, much,”

“Where does he get off?” she muttered to herself. She cast her gaze upwards, the library coming into sight. She exhaled, trying to dispell the anger and annoyance she felt. He always left her so riled up. And that in itself irked her more. Because she didn’t want to feel anything about it, let alone disdain. She pushed a small smile to her lips. Part of the process was faking it until it became real. The placebo effect. Smile, and sooner or later you’ll be smiling for real. And with the labyrinth of literature a few feet from her; that was cause for a smile. That was always cause for a smile.

#characterdevelopment #aboutbelle #belle #headcanon #hc #headcanons #app

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