#This is about sealing wax from France btw

[thewirewitch]

2 dead, 5 injured:

Shipping on a small item about 3x the price of the item itself.

[elderxprice]

Would you do ❖ with mcpriceley if you’re taking requests? I love your writing sm btw!!

❖ boarding school au || au drabble prompts || always accepting

When Kevin is sixteen years old, a letter arrives in the mail. It is addressed to him in unremarkable script - Kevin Price, Provo, Utah – and handed to him over dinner.

“Well,” Mr Price says, tucking a napkin into the neck of his shirt. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

Kevin is, of course, but for a while he just sits there and stares at it. This letter looks nothing like the one Tommy Coughlin got, before being sent to France. His was perfectly official with a purple waxed-seal; Kevin’s is perfectly ordinary, sealed with a small piece of tape.  

Disappointment settles in the pit of his stomach well before he’s slid a knife beneath the flap to tear it open. It is a feeling so familiar, he can always see it coming; so when an acceptance from Dreadfeather’s Academy for Troubled Boys falls out, there’s no surprise with how he feels.

“Well, then,” his father says, after taking a long drink of water. “That settles that.”

His mood is suspiciously affable; he even smiles when passing a dish across the table. Mrs Price made Kraft mac and cheese, Kevin’s favorite; he wonders if they knew this was coming.

                                                                       ***

Troubled. That’s what they stamp on the front of his file.

“It’s alright, dear,” Kevin is told, as he’s fitted for his uniform. It is gray and boring; and not at all like the uniform he used to dream about wearing, which was lined with a bright pop of color. “We’ll get you all straightened out.”

Kevin frowns, as he’s measured from his armpits to his waist. “I don’t need to be straightened out, ma’am.”

“Of course not, dear.” The lady smiles and pats the top of his head. It is the first time he’s ever felt pitied.  

                                                                      ***

He shares a room with nine other boys, who he instantly dislikes. They are loud and rude, and one of them – Neeley, as he’s called – chooses Kevin as his arch nemesis, the second he walks through the door.

“You’re the only jerk here bound to give me a run for my money with the girls,” he explains, as though there will ever be girls in this place. “You’re tall, dark and handsome, with perfect teeth. A real ladies man.” Neeley looks over his shoulder, making a crude gesture with a fist towards a red-headed boy in the corner. “Just your type, isn’t he, McKinley?”

Two of the other boys, Zelder and Schrader, make gagging noises, while another one, Arnold, laughs so loudly it hurts Kevin’s ears. The boy in the corner, though, makes himself very small; he hugs his knees to his chest and rests his forehead on the top of them. Kevin watches as his shoulders start to shake.

“Well, if I am, he’s got good taste.” Kevin turns away from the boy and faces Neeley, again, who has at least three inches on him and a whole lot of weight. “Which is more than I can say about you.”

                                                                      ***

Dangerous. It’s how he describes the look in Neeley’s eyes when he rouses in the hospital wing a few hours later. 

McKinley is sitting on a chair beside his bed, reading Gray’s Anatomy while looking no worse for wear. “Don’t worry about Neeley,” he says, without looking up. “I took care of him for you.”

“Oh.” Kevin winces as he moves to sit up, resting his back against the headboard. Everything hurts, but nothing seems to be broken. “Thanks, but I could have handled it.”

“Yes, I can see that,” McKinley says, finally closing his book. “So, why are you here, anyway? You don’t look very troubled.”

I’m not, Kevin wants to say; but finds himself momentarily speechless as McKinley lifts his gaze. His eyes are very blue; an almost perfect match to the tie that he’s wearing. Kevin thinks they’re very nice, and unintentionally says so aloud.

“Thanks.” The other boy grins; “So are yours.”

Kevin quickly ducks his head, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Thanks,” he says, fisting at the blankets. “They’re brown, though; nothing special.”

“They’re honest.” McKinley hooks a finger beneath Kevin’s chin, forcing him to look up; “And I happen to think that’s very nice.”

                                                                      ***

Over time, Kevin learns that Connor thinks a lot of things are very nice; things most people would think are not very nice at all – like the rotting, gnarled roots that peek up through the ground in the courtyard, or the damaged plaster and flaking paint in the library.

“They tell a story,” he explains, running a hand over a wall in the reference section. “Everything does, I guess; but I like stories that are hard to figure out.”

“My mom has a bunch of those The Cat Who mysteries,” Kevin says, idly picking at a chip of paint. “Like that?”  

“No,” Connor admits, dropping his hand. “Like you.”

It’s quiet in the library. Kevin hadn’t noticed until now.He can hear time pass by in clicks from Connor’s hand-me-down watch; and his nerves, which thrum loudly in his ears.  

“Oh, I’m not mysterious.” Kevin shakes his head and holds his hands up, as though he is surrendering to that fact; and perhaps, in some ways, he is. “I’m just like you. We’re the same, you and me.”

Connor smiles, but it looks a little bit sad. Like maybe he doesn’t believe him. Like maybe Kevin is lying. But Kevin doesn’t lie; his eyes are honest, and his heart is good, and his mind has stopped warring with them both. So he takes Connor’s hands and ducks his head so they’re standing eye-to-eye. 

Kevin takes a steadying breath; “Exactly the same, alright?”

A minute passes, then a second and a third, before Connor gives his hands a squeeze, like maybe he finally gets it.

“Alright,” Connor says, then leans in to kiss him, which lets Kevin know that he does.

[oh-goodness-loki]

All I Ask of You

Chapter 1/12

Hannibal x Will Graham, other characters

Summary:  It was a day like any other at the Opera Populair, but little did they know, that this would be the day when everything changes.

Warnings: none that I can think of right now. (btw, Margot and Mason are till siblings in this fic nothing more)

Notes: This is my first fanfic ever. It is a Phantom of the Opera au. It’ll be pretty close to the 2004 movie up until the 4th chapter, and then it’ll change. Hope you enjoy!

On AO3   Masterlist

Shit, shit, shit, shit! Will thought as he and Beverly got ready for rehearsals that morning. They had stayed up late last night and ended up sleeping in. As soon as they got their ballet shoes on, they dashed out of the dormitory and made their way down the spiral staircase. Thankfully they got there in time to finish the warm up. Madame Du Maurier did not look pleased as she saw the two of them, but didn’t say anything because rehearsal was starting.

Everyone got into their places and waited for Mason to come on stage carrying a head to start the scene.

♪This trophy, from our saviours, from our saviours, from the enslaving force of Rome!♪ And so begins the day.

♪With feasting and dancing and song, tonight in celebration. We greet the victorious throng, returned to bring salvation.♪ Women walk down the stage, hitting their chests in time.

♪The trumpet of Carthage resound. Hear Romans now, and tremble! Hark to the step on the ground, hear the drums, Hannibal comes!!!♪ (ehehehe)

Margot comes in on cue. ♪Sad to return to find the land we love, threatened once more by Roma’s far reaching grasp.♪

Will sighs as Chilton taps his baton on his stand. Ugh why can’t Margot just say Rome instead of Roma? It’s not that bloody hard to do!

“No! No, no, no!” Chilton says to Margot.

♪Sad to find the land we love, threatened once more by ROME’s far reaching grasp.♪ Margot continues singing and putting an emphasis on Rome to sate Chilton’s perfectionism.

“Rehearsals, as you can see are underway for a new production for Chalumeau’s Hannibal.” Will turns to see Monsieur Crawford come onstage with two men trailing behind him.

“Monsieur Crawford, I am rehearsing!” Cries Chilton.

“Monsieur Chilton, Madame Du Maurier, ladies and gentlemen, uh, please, if I can have your attention. Thank you. As you know, for some weeks,  there have been rumors of my imminent retirement. I can now tell you that these are all true.”

Merde. Will thinks. Now i owe Beverly 15 Francs.

“Uh, it’s my pleasure to introduce you to the two gentlemen who now own the Opera Populair. Monsieur Price and Monsieur Zeller.”

“And we are deeply honored to introduce our new patron, the Vicomtesse, Alana Bloom.” Monsieur Price states, obviously very proud of himself.

Fuck. It can’t be. Oh but it is. Wow she’s even more beautiful. Will realizes. “It’s Alana.” He says, turning to Beverly. “Before my father died, we would play together on the beach at the house by the sea. I guess you could say we were best friends.”

“Well, she is absolutely gorgeous!” Beverly gushes.

“My parents are honored to support all the arts. Especially the world renowned, Opera Populair.” She declared.

Crawford then introduces her to Mason and Margot. Mason, of course puts on the charm though the entire cast can see right through it. Afterwards, Alana politely excused herself and exited stage right. Will looks sadly at the floor as Alana passes him.

“She wouldn’t recognize me,” Will says dully.

“She didn’t see you.” Beverly tells him soothingly.

Instead of answering, Will moves to get into position as the ballet portion of the scene starts.

“We take particular pride in the excellence of our ballet, monsieurs.” Madame De Maurier informs her new employers.

“I see why,” Zeller says, “especially that black haired beauty.”

“My niece, Beverly Katz.” Du Maurier says, heavenly hinting to Zeller to stay away from Beverly.

“And that exceptionally handsome young fellow, no relation, I trust.” Price states.

“William Graham. Promising talent, Monsieur Crawford. Very promising.”

“Graham, you say, no relation to the famous inventor?” Price inquires.

“His only child. Orphaned at seven, when he came to live and train in the ballet dormitories.”

“An orphan, you say?”

“I think of him as family as well.” Du Maurier informs Zeller and Price, hinting at the act that he was off limits as well.

♪The trumpeting elephant sounds, hear Romans now, and tremble! Hark to the step on the ground, hear the drums, Hannibal comes!♪ The chorus finishes.

“All day! And all they want is the dancing.” Mason moans to everyone, though no one pays him any mind.

“The vicomtesse is very excited about tonight’s gala.” Mason turns, overhearing Crawford talking to Zeller and Price.

“Oh ho ho ho ho. I hope, she is as excited about dancing girls as your new managers. Because I WILL NOT BE SINGING!” Mason screams, startling everyone. He then stalks off yelling about how the opera house will close down without him there, as well as a bunch of stuff but since this happens every few weeks, no one is really worried.

“Wh-what do we do?” Zeller asks Crawford. He never thought this would happen on the first day.

Crawford looks at them exasperatedly. “Grovel. Grovel. Grovel.” They then rush over to where Mason is still having a tantrum, to try and appeal to his already huge ego by trying to convince him to give a private performance of the aria for his character in the musical.

Will rolls his eyes as Mason once more comes back and yells at everyone to be quiet as he sings the aria.

♪Think of me, think of me fondly when we’ve said goodbye. Remember me, once in awhile please promise me you’ll try. When you find, that once again you long to take you heart back and be free-♪ Then all of a sudden, one of the background set curtains fall onto Mason causing everyone to cry out in alarm.

“He’s here, the Phantom of the Opera,” Beverly says to Will.

“Senior, are you alright? For God’s sake Gideon, what the hell is going on up there?!” Crawford yells up to the stagehand.

“Please Monsieur, don’t look at me. As God’s my judge, I wasn’t at my post. Please monsieur, there’s no one there. Or if there is, well then, it must be a ghost!” Gideon laughs creepily.

Zeller turns to Mason, secretly trying not to laugh at the situation. “Senior, these things do happen.”

“For the past three years these things do happen? And did you stop them from happening? No!” Mason yells, infuriated. “And you two,” pointing to Zeller and Price, “You’re as bad as him. ‘These things do happen’? Until you stop these things from happening, THIS THING DOES NOT HAPPEN!” He turns on his heel and stalks off the stage, with Margot following him reluctantly.

“Gentlemen, good luck. If you need me, I shall be in Australia.” Crawford informs the two new owners as he leaves.

Madame Du Maurier walks up to her employers holding a letter that has the wax seal of a stag’s head keeping it closed. “I have a message sir, from the opera ghost.”

“Oh God in heaven, you’re all obsessed.” Price exclaims.

“He welcomes you to his opera house-”

“HIS opera house?”

“And commands that you continue to leave box five empty for his use. And reminds you that his salary is due.”

“His salary?!”

“What? Monsieur Crawford used to give him 20,000 francs a month.” Du Maurier says smugly.

“20,000 FRANCS?!” Price shouts.

“Perhaps you can afford more. With the vicomtesse as your patron.”

“Madame, I had hoped to announce that public tonight, when the vicomtesse was to join us for the gala. But obviously, we shall now have to cancel! As it appears, we have lost our star! A full house, Zeller, we shall have to refund a full house!” Price proclaims, he starts doing the math of all the money they will lose in this.

Zeller and Price turn to Maestro Chilton asking if there’s an understudy, but they are at a loss until, “William Graham can sing it, sir.”

“A chorus boy? Very silly.” Zeller scoffs.

“He’s been taking lessons from a great teacher,” Du Maurier boasts, “Let him sing for you, monsieurs. He has been well taught.”

Will is freaking out. He never actually believed he’d get this opportunity. He’s not ready, but then, he doesn’t think he’d ever be ready for something like this. So he does the only thing he can do. He starts to sing.

Hope you guys enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think!