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charlatte124 · 7 months

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PHANTOM OF THE OPERA

Wenclair edition

It was the evening on which Madame Weems, the newly appointed manager of the Opera, was giving a last gala performance to mark their retirement.

Suddenly the dressing-room of Yoko, one of the principal dancers, was invaded by half-a-dozen young ladies of the ballet performance before her. They rushed in confusion, some giving vent to forced and unnatural laughter, others to cries of terror.

Yoko, who wished to be alone for a moment to revise the speech which she was to say to the manager, looked around angrily at the mad crowd.

It was Eugene, that rushes in, who gave the explanation in a trembling voice:

"There's a ghost out there!", and locked the doors.

Yoko was very superstitious. She shuddered when she heard Eugene speak of a ghost, called him a "silly little fool" and then, as she was the first to believe in ghosts in general, and the Opera ghost in particular, at once asked for details.

"Have you seen them?"

"Just as plainly as I see you now!" said Eugene, whose legs were giving way beneath him, and she dropped into a chair

Someone had added onto Eugene's words.

"If that's the ghost, they're very scary and terrifying!"

"Oh, yes!" cried the ballet-girls.

And they all began to talk together. The ghost had apparently appeared to them in the shape of a person wearing male dress-clothes, who had suddenly stood before them in the passage, without their knowing where they came from. They seemed to have come straight through the wall…. Like a ghost.

…

For several months, there had been nothing discussed at the Opera but this ghost in dress-clothes who stalked about the building, from top to bottom, like a shadow, who spoke to nobody, to whom nobody dared speak and who vanished as soon as they were seen, no one knowing how or where. As they became a real ghost, they made no noise while walking. People began by laughing and making fun of this specter dressed like a man of fashion or an undertaker; but the ghost legend soon swelled to enormous proportions among the corps de ballet. They were nicknamed, "The Phantom of the Opera". Noone could tell what gender they were, always dressed in male clothes but had a frame of a woman.

…

They never knew what would happen had someone offended this Ghost.

…

On the first landing, Yoko, Meg Giry and Enid ran against the Count Petropolus, who was coming up-stairs. The count, who was generally so calm, seemed greatly excited.

"I was just going to you," he said, taking off his hat. "Oh, Yoko, what an evening! And Enid Sinclair, what a triumph!"

Meg Giry said "Six months ago, she used to sing like a CROCK! But now she sings like an angel! Oh but please let us get by dear count Petropolus"

They all went on to the foyer of the ballet, which was already full of people. The manager's praises were right; no gala performance ever equaled this one.

All the great composers of the day had conducted their own works in turns. Faure and Krauss had sung and, on that very evening,

But the real triumph was reserved for Enid Sinclair who had begun by singing a few passages from Romeo and Juliet. It was the first time that the young artist sang in this work of Gounod, which had not been transferred to the Opera and which was revived at the Opera Comique. Enid Sinclair had revealed her true self, for the first time, to the astonished and enthusiastic audience.

Those who heard her say that her voice, in these passages, was seraphic, but this was nothing to the superhuman notes that she gave forth in the prison scene and the final trio in FAUST, which she sang in the place of Bianca Barclay, who was ill. No one had ever heard or seen anything like it.

…

Count Thrope would perhaps not have taken his best friend behind the scenes of the Opera if Ajax had not been the first to ask him, repeatedly renewing his request with a gentle obstinacy which the count remembered at a later date.

On that evening, after applauding the Sinclair, Ajax was quite pale. And his best friend had noticed.

"Don't you see," said Ajax, "that the woman's fainting?"

"You look like fainting yourself," said the count. "What's the matter?"

But Ajax had recovered himself and was standing up.

"Let's go and see," he said, "she never sang like that before."

The count gave his best friend a curious smiling glance and seemed quite pleased. They were soon at the door leading from the house to the stage.

Ajax tore his gloves without knowing what he was doing and Xavier had laughed at him for his impatience. But he now understood why Ajax was absent-minded when spoken to and why he always tried to turn every conversation to the subject of the Opera.

They hear Enid Sinclair talking to herself. Referring to an "angel of music" who is this?

…

Enid Sinclair had been escorted to her dressing room as she had become pale after her spectacular performance. Expecting there to be no one, she spoke to the air.

" Angel of Music, are you listening?"

Suddenly there's a voice from nowhere.

"Yes, spectacular performance dear Sinclair, I had watched from box 5."

"When will you start calling me by my name oh dear angel of music?"

"When the time comes that you know of my name"

The voice was melodic, female sounding with a hint of stoicism could be heard, a face of no emotions could be visualized.

Enid sighs and asks a question that has been repeated, day after day.

"When will you show yourself to me?"

There's no reply for a few moments until finally the 'Angel of Music' replies.

"Soon. When you have nothing else to learn from me. When I am ready to show you. When you are ready to face me."

The same reply, word for word after that very question. Enid sighs once again as she spoke to the voice once more.

"At the very least you must answer this question for me, when will you ever be ready? Shall I still be alive till then? Shall I still stay here till then? When shall it be Angel of Music"

This time there's an immediate response.

"I shall give you three months to prepare for my appearance. However once you have seen it, you cannot leave me. You aren't allowed to scream in terror nor are you allowed to run away. You must stay with me."

Enid is ecstatic, her beloved Angel of Music that has been sent by her father, her beloved Angel of music that guided her to success today in her performance after months of hard work and practice with them.

"Thank you my Angel of Music, oh how happy shall I be on that day"

…

Ajax had been listening on in with Xavier. Who was this 'Angel of Music'? Who was Enid talking to?

Ajax knocked on the door. He watches as the door knob turns to reveal Enid in all of her glory. She's still in her costume from FAUST.

"Oh, Count Petropolus and Count Thorpe! Great day to meet you"

Enid smiles, Ajax is captured once again in her roombeautiful smile.

"It's me, Ajax, remember? We played together on the coasts of Rue Scribe when young. I was smitten by you and still is"

"Oh! You're that lovely boy I had seen many times for many months. Oh what a great time we had playing in the sand"

Ajax is delighted to know that she still remembers the memorable time they had at the coasts.

…

Wednesday listens in from the one sided mirror she has been using to interact with Enid Sinclair, her newly discovered obsession.

She had traveled the world, been an entertainer for a Persian princess, made two buildings for two kings, been a circus show, been under a architect as a disciple,learned all there is to music and singing with every instrument, learned tricks of trap doors and torture yet she fell into the hands of this girl.

Left her family for more education and knowledge of the world, being abducted for her unchanging face.

Her lineage of the family name Addams came with a deep infatuation for a special someone. And her special someone was Enid.

She felt enraged by the obvious love in Ajax's voice as he talked. She watched as Enid was talking to them. Jealous of their past relations.

She taps on the mirror. Tap tap tap. Three taps to capture her attention.

…

Enid hears three taps from behind her, in her dressing room. She quickly excuses herself, guessing that the taps are from the voice.

"Excuse me, I need to change quickly,I'll talk to you soon!"

And slams the door shut right in Ajax's face.

She turns towards her mirror once again and talks to seemingly nothing.

"Yes?"

"Who was that."

"An old friend"

"remember that you will stay with me when you hear of my name and see my face."

"Yes angel of music"

Enid complies. Her father had once told her before that when he dies, he will send an "Angel of Music" to her, it shall bring prosperity and success to her in her career and love life.

She become dependent on the Angel of Music for her singing however, she had started to develop a sense of longing for the voice.

This should be wrong. It's a voice, she has never even seen their face or heard of their name but she feels longing to hear it's voice after a good performance, longing to hear praises from them, longing to finally see their face and possibly love them.

…

Wednesday was posing as an Angel of Music for Enid.

Ever since she has seen her face in a performance when she watched from box 5, she has been struck by the arrow of love.

She overheard Enid talking about an Angel of Music when she was going to another trap door. She took this opportunity to her advantage and voiced her desires, posed as an Angel of Music.

She had taught Enid in the wee hours of the night, lecturing about small details and working on her Don Juan Triumphant when alone.

She knows how wrong this is but she will do whatever to be close to her.

#wenclair #wednesday #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wednesday x enid #wenclair fics

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seriaholic · 1 year

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Young Royals, Omar Rudberg and Edvin Ryding opened the QX gala 2023.

Photo. Markos Aliathiotis & Jonas Noren.

QX Gaygala 2023 was a wonderful 25th anniversary with great emotions, surprises and performances that lifted the roof.

It was a fantastic evening. When the QX Gala turned 25, at the beginning of February. Sissela Kyla led the Gala for the 8th time, but this was also her last Gaygalamormor has retired, she said from the stage. This year’s QX Gala began quietly and beautifully when Omar Rudberg sang the theme song from Young Royals together with a choir, all dressed in Hillerska’s school uniforms. At the end of the song the choir split and Edvin entered the stage and approached Omar. They hugged each other to the crowd’ s cheers and Edvin called out. Welcome to Gay Gala 2023. And we were on!

As usual humor and seriousness are mixed at the Gala, Sissela had a sharp script written by Edvard af Sillen and Dantel Rehnquist and Drew Laughs upon laughs from a full audience. She sat down on Christer Lindarw’s lap and wondered of they had really caught that cobra that escaped from Skansen and sang a new text to Parleporten to hbtq nominee Andreas Wijk. He has opened the wardrobe so you can come out.

Sissela told about the Swedish hero Julia, who lives in Oslo with her girlfriend and who overpowered the terrorist who shot two people outside a gay club in Oslo on the midsummer marathon. Julia was welcomed onto the stage and greatly applauded by an audience that gave her the longest applause of the evening.

On stage we also had a cavalcade of artists including. Molly Hammar, who also won the prize of the best song we were visited by Zara Larsoon, who started by singing a duet with herself in the song. Uncover. From Gaygala 2013 and then performed the new single, Can’t tame here, Sanna Nielsen gave us the middle classic, I’m in love, while Medina raised the bar with his, In I dim an. But the woman’ s trio Hanson Carson, Malmqvist got the most cheers. When they made their entrance and performed C’est la vie.

Main Lodalen was awarded the QX honorary award and was not only the gala’s happiest. Winner but the most surprised winner as we did not notify her in advance, the seconds when she realized she was going to receive the Honorary award we’re magical.

Sweden’s new drag queen Robert Fux handed out the Drag of the year prize and said among other things glitter is courage glitter is battle and the battle is not over long ways.

Petra “September”. Mark Lund gave us a really nice hits medley that got everyone on their feet, snicker-Björn, who came out as Lee was widely praised for his courage and handed out the tv program of the year to the Young Royals. While the HBTQ of the year was handed out by Benjamin Ingrosso and went to Edvin Tornblom. Who attached the older generation of gay’s for everything. They have done in the fight for hbtq rights.

Then she just stood there on stage, Leila K, feat Jessica Folcker and performed the iconic, “Electric” and every guest at Cirkus danced, sang and screamed in ecstasy. One of the many surprises that little has become of the gala’s signature though the 25 years that it has existed.

Thank you all!!

The winners, QX- Galan 2023.

Stall of the year: The Blue Oyster. Keep up the good work of the year: Lady Busty & miss Shameless Scene of the year: club after Dark Honorary award: Mian Lodalen. Film of the year: Hilma. Song of the year: “Ingen Annan ror Mig som du, “ Molly Hammar. Book of the year: Bogen ar los Edvin Tornblom. Tv show of the year: Young Royals.

Drag of the year: Club after Dark. Tv star of the year: Edvin Ryding. Duo of the year: Edvin Tornblom and Johanna Nordstrom. Straight man of the year: Hazret Bozarslan.

LGBTQ of the year: Edvin Tornblom.

At the end of the Gala. Omar Rudberg sang another song.

This interview was in Swedish and I translated it for you.

#young royals #omar rudberg #omar and edvin #edvin ryding #qx gaygala

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hongjoongtrasher · 3 years

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Goodbye Baby Goodbye ch.2

GENRE: Angst , smut, fluff

PAIRING: office worker!seonghwa x female reader, ceo!hongjoong x female reader, established relationship, lovers to ennemies.

OTHER: little brother!jongho, best friend!yunho, colleague!yeosang, roommate!san, office worker!mingi, manager!wooyoung.

WARNING: cheating, betrayal, manipulations, protected sex (BE SAFE KIDDOS)

Masterlist - Previous chapter

Synopsis:

It all began when your now 4 year-old boyfriend Seonghwa had an invitation to his entreprise’s party. Surprised to hear you could tag along, you met Kim Hongjoong, the CEO and close friend of Seonghwa. Rumored to be a playboy, the rich boss of your boyfriend is determined to add you to his conquests.

Indeed, Seonghwa wasn’t lying when he was saying KQ Enterprise was like an empire. You’ve never been there, and yet you were here, standing in front of the gigantic building, right after your boyfriend came to pick you up.

The preps for this evening have been like a war. Fortunately, San helped you a lot. He was a good adviser for your makeup and hairstyle. Since you had received such an expensive dress from your boyfriend’s boss, you couldn’t let the rest being down. Of course, when you called Seonghwa in a intense panic, talking about the dress you got from Mr. Kim, he didn’t seem surprised.

« Oh, actually I talked to him about the dress code, and he figured out you may be hadn’t an outfit for this occasion. But I swear I didn’t ask anything from him. »

You were still bewildered after his explanation, because it didn’t explain how he got your name and address. But Seonghwa only said:

« Mr. Kim is a man full of resources Y/N. He’s the CEO at the head of an empire, so it’s not really surprising he’d found your personal informations. But don’t worry, he won’t do anything armful to you. »

Still, you weren’t really happy with the fact your boyfriend’s CEO could find your personal infos so easily.

« Y/N…Just accept this gift. I’m sure he didn’t want to upset you, just pleasing you, in a certain way. »

« Fine, I won’t talk about it from now on » you grumbled into your phone. « But I don’t want any of those things in the future. »

And the D-day came. San had left you right after you were done, his own boyfriend came to pick him up as well. It was the first time you were meeting Wooyoung. He seemed to be a nice guy and you had this sort of feeling of knowing him for a long time even though it was the first time you were meeting. While San was still in the bathroom, Wooyoung explained to you his position in KQ Enterprise. He was the team manager of the economic team whereas Seonghwa was a manager into the CEO personal team. You were impressed by how high they were into this enterprise but Wooyoung smirked and mischievously answered:

« Because KQ Ent is mainly composed of young people. The Boss is privileging youth over oldies who will soon retire. »

San soon came to see you both, signalling his boyfriend he was ready. Wooyoung smiled at the other male who was really handsome tonight. You didn’t know San could be this hot in this all black tuxedo and hair pulled back. You were so used to see him in sweat pants and shirts with messy hair. Such a loss for the women population you had thought at this moment.

« Weeeell, I’m ready, so we’ll go ahead Y/N, see you there ! ~ » said San with a large smile which made a weird difference from his look.

You nodded and waved to the boys. Only five minutes after, Seonghwa knocked at your door. You came to open the door, trying not to step on the expensive shiny dress you were wearing. When you opened the door, you had found a subjugated Seonghwa, his mouth opened as soon as his eyes landed on your elegant figure. But he was so handsome as well. Wearing a dark blue tuxedo with a white shirt, a silky pocket tissue on his perfect blazer. His dark hair were neatly styled by some wax, and you could smell his cologne from here. You felt so lucky at this moment to have him as your boyfriend.

« You’re gorgeous » he only whispered after a moment, which made you blush.

« T-Thanks. San helped me to..mh be prepared » you mumbled back shyly, not used to wear expensive stuffs.

« You ready ? » he asked softly.

« I just have to grab some things and put my shoes and we’re good to go. »

You wearing heels was a thing to watch. Fortunately, the most suitable pair you had was almost brand new. You had bought them with your first pay check from your part time job, but soon gave up when you tried to keep them more than a whole day. You also had a classic white blazer and a small pouch that Seonghwa had gifted to you for your second couple anniversary.

« Hwa…What should I do ? I’m so nervous » you shakily said when he came to you after parking his car.

You felt his hand falling on your back as he made sure you were facing him. His eyes searched for yours as he said firmly and yet so sweetly:

« Everything’s gonna be alright Y/N. I’ll be by your side. »

His other hand gently stroke your cheek as you nodded, trying to repress your anxiety. Seonghwa took your hand to pass it around his arm. And then, you both entered the giant building where security guards were controlling the entry. They didn’t ask your name but bowed their head at your boyfriend, letting you pass easily while shouting : « Good evening sir ! »

For a second you thought being in a drama, it felt so unreal that you almost lost your nervousness. Seonghwa leaded you calmly to the reception hall, where you could already hear people chatting and the classy jazz music in the background.

« Oh my God » you repeated to yourself, squeezing Seonghwa’s arm tightly to which he responded by squeezing your hand with his free one.

The huge hall was crowded with a lot of people, most of them were employees here. You just kinda followed Seonghwa, politely greeting people he was saying « Good evening » etc. You glanced around you furtively, small standing tables were on display for everyone to get some appetizer even waiters were going through the crowd with silver trays with champagne glasses. You got one from Seonghwa. You weren’t usually drinking, or more you weren’t a good drinker, but you were feeling like drinking right now to forget your tension. As Seonghwa was talking to another manager, suddenly everything stopped and most of the others’ eyes were all directed in one direction.

A rather small man had entered the huge hall, platinum hair pulled back but with a sharp glance arrived. Even if you were at the other side of the room, you could feel his obvious charisma as he made his way through the mike stand near the small pair of musicians. You noticed his dark winey red tuxedo, perfectly fitting his body. You almost shivered when Seonghwa leaned to your ear to whisper: « It’s CEO Kim. »

Kim Hongjoong, the brilliant CEO of KQ Enterprise. He was known to be really young to be the owner of such a company, but his youth wasn’t a hurdle to rule over his company with an iron handle. The hall had gone completely silent, waiting for the host of this party to talk. He cleared his throat before offering a smug smile to the assembly, his eyes scanning the large hall.

« Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the annual party of KQ Enterprise. Tonight, is the night where we are celebrating our achievement for the past goals we were keeping in sight. I am well aware that I maybe asked for a considerable amount of efforts during those past months, but this is thanks to your hard work, perseverance and audacity that we can proudly announce that KQ Enterprise will add the brand new branch in the US market… »

A salvation of applauses erupted in the huge hall, Seonghwa clapping enthusiastically. You were a bit confused but followed the move, fairly impressed by his speech. But he wasn’t done yet.

« As you also know, I may be the CEO, but everything wouldn’t be possible without my dear sister, Hyewon - once again people applauded towards a young woman who was standing at the corner of the stage, humbly bowing her head at her brother’s words- who always find the good words to guide me. I received a lot of praises from you all tonight, but I am not the only one to be thanked tonight. You all deserve to be thanked for your hard work, and be proud to belong to our enterprise. Thank you »

A standing ovation exploded as the blonde exited the stage, bowing slightly to some people who were still applauding him.

Seonghwa looked so proud at the moment that you turned to him to congratulate him as well. « You’re amazing, I’m proud of you » you said as he chuckled in shyness. « I’m not that amazing, I’m just doing my work »

Soon the classic music returned and people began to chat between each other’s again. You gazed to the next standing table to see San with Wooyoung, champagne glass in one hand. Your roommate noticed you and made sure to lift his glass to you, which you imitated for him. After a moment, you began to think this party wasn’t so bad, until you heard the same voice earlier from the mike addressing to your boyfriend.

« Seonghwa, you came ! »

You turned quickly to see that CEO Kim was here, giving your boyfriend a brotherly embrace, his hand tapping his back as Seonghwa looked slightly surprised but soon gained his composure again. You felt your body froze suddenly.

« Congratulations, Mr. Kim » he said genuinely happy for his boss.

« I told you already to call me Hongjoong » said the blonde with a wide smile, showing his white teeth.

Then his dark eyes soon switched to your persona. You quickly bowed to your boyfriend’s boss, feeling his gaze scanning your whole body.

« You must be Y/N…I’m glad to see the dress I’ve sent you fit you so well. Not to say, you’re beautiful »

You straighten up to mumble awkward words, but the blonde took your hand to do a hand kiss, making your heart flutter.

« I…It’s nice to meet you Mr. Kim, and you shouldn’t have for the dress » you quickly said in a choked voice, making him laugh.

« It’s nothing, it was my pleasure. I hope you will keep it. »

His eyes fixed yours, making you drown into their intensity, as he softly let your hand goes. You heard your boyfriend’s greeting someone else who was no one but Hongjoong’s sister. Seeing her close, you could tell she was gorgeous. Beauty was running into the family genes you thought as your gaze hadn’t left Hongjoong’s figure.

« Hyewon, this is Seonghwa, my manager into my team, and his girlfriend, Y/N »

Hyewon smiled at Seonghwa, bowing her head slightly and to you as well.

« It’s nice to meet you. I heard a lot from my brother about you Seonghwa. »

You looked at your boyfriend who seemed fluttered by her. You had no doubt about your boyfriend’s work, and you felt proud for him. But you soon felt like about to faint, not really knowing how to follow the conversation. Unless you excused you politely to join San’s table.

« Hey, how is it going Cinderella ? » he asked you teasingly.

« Stop it » you groaned lowly once you were next to him. « Wooyoung ? »

« Went to the bathroom » answered your friend, taking a sip to his glass. « You met him right ? »

San was indeed talking about Hongjoong, and you nodded, also taking a sip of your golden liquid.

« Yeah…He…He seems nice but, he has such an aura…so charismatic » you told San openly.

« No wonder, have you heard his speech earlier ? He probably is our age, but act like a king » San chuckled before Wooyoung came back.

« Everything’s good for you Y/N ? » asked your roommate’s boyfriend, probably worried not to see Seonghwa by your side.

You nodded in confirmation as you nudged your chin behind you where Hongjoong was still talking to your boyfriend with her sister.

« He’s incredible right ? » asked Wooyoung enthusiastically.

« Yes, indeed, he’s a genius in a sense » you hummed.

« Thank you »

You gasped when you heard again Hongjoong’s voice behind your back, making you turn quickly to face him. You’ve turned so fast that you almost stripped on your dress, Hongjoong carefully stretched his arm to hold you back if you were falling. But fortunately you didn’t.

« Wow, be careful, I didn’t mean to scare you. I apologize. »

« No no, it’s fine, I’m the one who should apologize haha » you nervously croaked back, making him slightly smirk.

Wooyoung and San bowed to the impromptu visitor. Hongjoong greeted them back but it was obvious he wanted to talk to you alone, so Wooyoung gently dragged your boyfriend away, pretexting the appetizer were better at another table. Once you were alone with Hongjoong, you didn’t dare to look at him in the eyes, to shy to do it as you could feel his piercing gaze on you.

« Are you enjoying your night ? » he asked softly, his hand gently turning a darker liquid on a glass.

« Yes, absolutely, it’s…wonderful. » you answered, trying to appear as calm as you wanted.

« I’m glad you like it. I don’t like sort of …formal gathering, but Hyewon says it’s important for the employees and she’s right. »

His eyes hadn’t left you from the beginning of this conversation.

« Seonghwa is lucky to have you by his side » he commented, making you surprised to ear this from him.

After all, he was the CEO, the almighty here. He could have any woman he wanted, anything could be his in a flash. But seeing one of his close friend having such a cute girlfriend like you made him slightly jealous. Cute and beautiful. He was subjugated by your beauty as soon as his eyes landed on you.

« I’m the one who is more lucky to have him » you explained in a shy smug smile. « He is very capable in every thing. »

« Indeed…I agree » hummed Hongjoong, finally departing his eyes from you to see his sister still talking with your boyfriend.

The night went well, since Seonghwa came to find you not a long after with San and Wooyoung, Hongjoong already had left since he had more people to talk with. You were somehow in a daze. Talking to Hongjoong kind of relieved your stress but at the same time left a deep impression on you.

« Are you alright baby ? » whispered Seonghwa to your ear since your cheeks were bright red.

« I’m fine ! »

« It’s because she’s drinking her fourth glass of champagne ~ » teased San while you gave him a deathly glare.

Seonghwa frowned at your roommate’s words.

« Y/N, you know you cannot handle alcohol very well »

He wasn’t angry or anything, just worried about your current state. Actually you weren’t that drunk, just enough to be dizzy and mostly feeling the urge to go to the bathroom. You just smirked and said:

« Let me go to the bathroom, and I’ll be back. »

« We should go after. » softly said Seonghwa before watching you leave the hall.

It would be a lie to say you were walking straight, or at least in your head you were. But while you were gone into the hallway, you went to the bathroom to relief yourself and also try to refresh your face. Once you were done, you came out from the bathroom, expecting to see people, but no one was here. The silent corridor made you uncomfortable so you decided to go back to your boyfriend until you heard footsteps coming right at you. You froze when you saw Hongjoong in front of you. He looked a bit tired, but his elegant face was still expressing the same charisma as earlier. He looked up to see you and a slight smirk appeared on his face.

« Oh…isn’t it Y/N ? Are you alright ? » he asked politely.

« I…I’m doing fine, thank you sir. » you answered quietly, the ambient silence making the conversation awkward since there wasn’t music as before or people to break it.

He arched a brow at your answer as he took a step closer, now facing you. He was so close that you could smell his cologne. Suddenly, you wanted to leave right now, your heart pounding hard into your chest.

« Really ? You look a bit red. Did you drink a lot ? » his voice was soft, but somehow different.

« I maybe had too much champagne » you chuckled nervously, trying to avoid his gaze.

He didn’t answer, instead his gaze was gauging your face. God, you were so pretty. It would be difficult to deny he tried to see you each time he was near you, but he couldn’t due to others circumstances. He really like how you look gorgeous into this dress he had bought for you.

« You’re gorgeous …You know that ? »

His remarks make you gulp, your eyes slightly looking up to see his, still fixed on you, his hands in his pocket.

« T-Thank you. I’m really grateful for the dress you’ve gifted me.»

He took a moment of silence before the corner of his lips went up.

« Are you ? Well, will you do me a favour ? » he asked, still contemplating your gorgeous, so tempted to do a dangerous move.

You were kind of puzzled. A favour ? What possibly could you do for a man who had almost everything ? You slowly nodded, unsure of what you just agreed to do if you could.

« Just stay still » he said faintly.

It happened very fast. Even before you could realise, Hongjoong had you pinned on the wall nearby, his lips crashed on yours for a heated kiss. In shock, you didn’t react fast as one of his hand groped your thigh firmly. Your body was frozen, but your brain soon snapped, making you push the man who was kissing you.

« S..Stop ! What do you think you are doing right now ?! » you yelled, panting as if you’d just ran a marathon.

Your boyfriend’s boss just kissed you while he clearly knew who your boyfriend was. Astonishment soon left place for anger. Hongjoong dark eyes glanced at you with a devilish tint. You felt like a pray, caged by the predator who could eat you in a second and you hated that feeling.

« Somehow, I couldn’t help it. I wanted to kiss you as soon as I saw you. » he explained in a nonchalant tone. « Of course I know, you have Seonghwa and everything, but…You must have heard about it. I love women, and when I want something, I get it. »

His words made you shiver in horror. What kind of man could do this without any guilt ?? It was enough for you, that a neat and loud sound of a slap echoed in the empty hallway.

« You’re crazy. » you just muttered after you faced Hongjoong’s, head turned on his right as he just got slapped.

Without any words, you hurried to join your boyfriend, horrified by what happen. But you also realised you couldn’t say anything to him. You could, but it wouldn’t be a good option for him. You knew how close they were, but knowing this, he would surely fight against his boss and be fired within the next days. That’s why you decided to take the best normal face you could have and found Seonghwa at the entrance of the hall.

« Are you alright Y/N ? I almost thought something happened. » Seonghwa asked in a worried tone.

« N…No everything’s alright. I just…took time in the bathroom, sorry. » you muttered, lowering your head. You couldn’t watch him in the eyes at this moment.

Seonghwa looked also puzzled, noticing your cheeks were abnormally red. He thought it was because of the alcohol so he didn’t try to ask for more.

« Let’s go home. » he said, his hand gently pushing you by the back towards the exit.

You nodded maybe too fast, but at least he wasn’t suspicious of anything.

« What about San ? » you asked while you exited the place to your relief.

« Wooyoung drove him home too. He was quite…tipsy. » said Seonghwa next to you.

You appreciated the fresh air brushing your face, happy to head your roommate would be here once you would be home.

The trip back to your home happened in silence, your head dropped on the head back of your seat, just watching the lights and neon passing by your eyes.

« So…Did you like it ? » asked suddenly Seonghwa, making your heart dropped in a second.

« W-What ? »

« The party » he said, his eyes on the road.

« Oh…It was alright I guess…But I don’t think I would go again » you muttered, the reason was pretty clear for you but your boyfriend could think another reason.

« Sorry, I know it made you uncomfortable. Next time I won’t force you to go. »

« No it’s alright, it was fine…It’s just that …it’s a different world to me » you forced a smile for him, your hand gently pressing his shoulder.

Soon, you arrived in front of your building. Seonghwa made sure to get you safely to your door.

« Thank you for tonight » he said lowly, maybe because it was late and didn’t want to wake anyone asleep. « You did well, I’m proud of you »

His praise made you smiled genuinely while you tried to erase the flash of Hongjoong kissing you.

« I’m glad…Thank you for tonight. »

Seonghwa’s warm hands gently cupped your face, pulling you to him for a sweet kiss. This time you were relaxed, because it was him. Because his lips were the only ones which had rights to kiss you and no one else. But why your head kept sending you back to Hongjoong’s lips feeling ?

taglist: (don't hesitate to ask to be tagged) @ateezbabysitters

Also don't hesitate to comment and share :)

#ateez angst #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez series #hongjoong scenario #seonghwa angst #hongjoong angst #hongjoong fluff #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong smut #seonghwa fluff

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dragonmartellstark · 3 years

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AU Targaryen: Best destinations for the children of Jaehaerys I & Alysanne (2/13)

Daenerys I (53 a. C.-125 a. C.) Queen of Seven Kingdoms

Daenerys Targaryen was the second daughter of Kings Jaehaerys I and Alysanne Targaryen. She was considered the closest to her mother with whom she spent her afternoons playing, studying and walking around the Red Keep. The princess had a good relationship with her older brother, Aegon and with her younger brothers who little by little came to the world.

In 59 a. C., she spread a disease known as chills rapidly affecting all of Westeros. The princess contracted that disease being a real pain for her and for her parents who feared for her possible death. King Jaehaerys looked for all the ways to make his daughter feel better, but he quickly demanded a dragon egg for his daughter, this one being as white as porcelain with a light blue beta in the center. Daenerys slept as she could day and night with that egg & it is known that her health improved little by little as the days passed by being almost a miracle due to the high mortality rate that was due to the plague.

Shortly after her egg was delivered to him, the White dragon was born, a creature with white scales and melon eyes. After her birth, little Daenerys began to recover even though her parents decided not to let her leave her rooms for fear of collapse. By the end of 60 a. C., the princess had already left her chambers showing herself as the happy, energetic and mischievous girl that she used to be.

After the plague ceased, the kings formalized the engagement between Daenerys and her older brother, Aegon in 62 a. C. Daenerys and her brother had a good relationship and it was thought that they could be similar to the same parents as hers. Three years later, the wedding of the princes took place, which made Daenerys the princess of Dragonstone and future queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

In 67 a. C., Daenerys rode her White dragon for the first time from the Capital to the Valley of Arryn with her mother Queen Alysanne & since then the princess developed a passion for flying.

After a couple of years of marriage, Aegon and Daenerys became parents in 71 a. C., of a girl, Alysanne who would be Lady of Brightwater Keep. The birth of her daughter was a great joy and she is described as a loving & caring mother. Two years later her second daughter was born, Daena, who would be her favorite and her husband's, even though this pregnancy disappointed many courtiers who were waiting for the arrival of a boy.

In 74 a. C., the expected son of her, Aegon, was born, but he died after two months being a painful death for Daenerys who spent three days mourning the death of her little one.

Two years after the death of her little Aegon of hers, a Maerys girl was born who would become Lady of Rock Casterly, but this birth was disappointing to the court. It took Daenerys two years to get pregnant again and this time she had a child, Aenar, who seemed to be in good health, this birth being very celebrated by all.

The couple's life changed suddenly when in 81 a. C., her little girl Daena died of tuberculosis shortly after having delivered her dragon egg. The death of the princess destroyed her entire family, especially her parents who did not get the idea of having lost her little girl. This event distanced the princes, but they quickly sought to reconcile and continue living a normal life, being born in 84 a. C., a boy named Daeron who would be Counselor of the Currency.

After a trip to Dorne to visit her little sister Saera, together with her parents they decided to commit the young Maerys to Lord Tymond Lannister, achieving alliances with the West after various tensions between the two Houses. A year later Daenerys gives birth to her last daughter, Shaera, who would marry Lord Arryn, son of Rodrik Arryn.

Her life remained quiet for ten years until 100 a. C., her mother Alysanne passed away, her death being very painful for her children and Westeros, but her father was broken when her great love died. Daenerys became the most important woman in the Capital and both she and her husband were in charge of the regency of the kingdom as her father was very ill and even hurt by the death of her wife.

Three years later her father died and the princes were crowned a few months after the death of her father. The couple was applauded and praised by the people who expected a lot from the children of the Conciliator and La Kindness. Daenerys was involved in the care of her children forever, but she also focused on her personal relationships and foreign politics. The queen founded a small women's association called "women's convent" where a group of noble or low-status women met in the queen's rooms dressed in some white garment to talk about all kinds of topics, especially intrigues & political problems. happening in the Seven Kingdoms.

In 108 a. C., was born his grandson, Aenys Targaryen, son of his heir Aenar Targaryen. This birth made the kings who had the succession assured very happy, but it is known that this tense closure added to the relations between Daenerys & Aegon with her daughter-in-law Jocasta Lannister who had a great desire for power. Four years after she passed away, her son, Aenar, supposedly from puerperal fever, and her death completely destroyed her, she had lost her "little dragon" and would never see him again.

The death of her son frightened her husband because if he died suddenly and her grandson was still a child, his mother could take the regency for her and it could be chaos. Aegon II in the end made the decision to declare his own wife as his heir, making him swear that when Prince Aenys reached the age of majority, she would retire from the throne & Daenerys accepted.

The next five years of her husband's reign were uneventful and Daenerys continued to meet with different women to be able to talk to what she was called "Politics" because of her great knowledge and the passion with which she had them. In 118 a. C., Aegon II passed away at the age of 65 and this death also hurt Daenerys since they had always been together through thick and thin. Following the funeral of her husband, Daenerys was crowned Daenerys I Targaryen, being the first queen regent in history.

After being crowned, one of her first decisions was to take her grandson away from her mother, Jocasta, and she was exiled shortly after her when she tried to kidnap her own son to force her mother-in-law. from her to leave the crown. Despite this great matter, Daenerys' reign was calm and without so many problems in between, focusing on acts of charity, giving Westeros a cultural growth and also focusing on caring for her grandson whom she loved as if he were her own. own son.

In 125 a. C., Daenerys I began to present various health problems having to stay in bed during the last days of her. In her agony, she was accompanied by Prince Aenys, whom she came to call by the name of her son, Aenar, thinking that he was reunited with her little one. After three months of illness, the queen she died that same year of heart problems at the age of 72, being cremated and her ashes were buried next to those of her husband.

Long before her death, she dictated a will where she declared Aenys, who was only 16 years old, to be of legal age and to marry her cousin, Saera Targaryen, who was the second daughter of Prince Valerion. In the end his conditions were approved and Aenys was crowned as Aenys II Targaryen, in addition to marrying her cousin who gave him five children including Daenerys who was named in honor of the queen.

Daenerys I (53 d. C.-125 d. C.) Reina de los Siete Reinos

Daenerys Targaryen era la segunda hija de los reyes Jaehaerys I y Alysanne Targaryen. Era considerada la mas cercana a su madre con la cual pasaba sus tardes jugando, estudiando y paseando por la Fortaleza Roja. La princesa tenia una buena relación con su hermano mayor, Aegon y con sus hermanos menores que poco a poco llegaban al mundo.

En 59 d. C., se propago una enfermedad conocida como escalofríos afectando rápidamente a todo Poniente. La princesa contrajo aquella enfermedad siendo un verdadero dolor para ella y para sus padres que temían por su posible muerte. El rey Jaehaerys busco todas las formas de hacer sentir mejor a su hija, pero rápidamente exigió un huevo de dragón para su hija siendo este uno tan blanco como la porcelana con una beta de color celeste en el centro. Daenerys dormía como podía día y noche con aquel huevo & se sabe que su salud mejoro poco a poco mientras los días pasaban siendo casi un milagro debido a la alta taza de mortalidad que había por la peste.

Al poco de serle entregado su huevo de este nació el dragón Blanca, una criatura con escamas blancas y ojos melón. Tras este nacimiento la pequeña Daenerys empezó a recuperarse aun que sus padres decidieron no dejarla salir de sus habitaciones por miedo a un colapso. Para finales del 60 d. C., la princesa ya había salido de sus aposentos mostrándose como la niña alegre, energética y traviesa que solía ser.

Tras cesar la peste, los reyes oficializaron el compromiso entre Daenerys y su hermano mayor, Aegon en 62 d. C.. Daenerys y su hermano tenían una buena relación y se llego a pensar que ellos podrían ser parecido a sus mismos padres. Tres años después se celebro la boda de los príncipes lo que convirtió a Daenerys en princesa de Rocadragón y futura reina de los Siete Reinos.

En 67 d. C., Daenerys monto por primera vez a su dragón Blanca desde la Capital hasta el Valle de Arryn junto a su madre la reina Alysanne & desde entonces la princesa desarrollo una pasión a volar.

Después de un par de años de matrimonio, Aegon y Daenerys se convirtieron en padres en 71 d. C., de una niña, Alysanne la cual sería Señora de Aguasclaras. El nacimiento de su hija fue una gran alegría y se le describe como una madre amorosa & atenta. Dos años después nació su segunda hija, Daena la cual sería su favorita y la de su marido, aun que si bien este embarazo decepciono a muchos cortesanos que esperaban la llegada de un varón.

En 74 d. C., nació el esperado hijo, Aegon, pero este falleció a los dos meses siendo una muerte dolorosa para Daenerys que paso tres días llorando la muerte de su pequeño.

Dos años después de la muerte de su pequeño Aegon, nació una niña Maerys que sería Señora de Roca Casterly, pero este nacimiento fue decepcionante para la corte. Daenerys tardo dos años en volverse a quedar embarazada y esta vez tuvo un niño, Aenar que parecía tener buena salud siendo este nacimiento muy celebrado por todos.

La vida de la pareja cambio repentinamente cuando en 81 d. C., falleció su pequeña Daena de tuberculosis poco después de haberle entregado su huevo de dragón. La muerte de la princesa destrozo a toda su familia en especial a sus padres que no se hacían la idea de haber perdido a su pequeña. Este suceso distancio a los príncipes, pero rápidamente buscaron reconciliarse y seguir viviendo una vida normal naciendo en 84 d. C., un niño que se llamo Daeron que sería Consejero de la Moneda.

Tras un viaje a Dorne a visitar a su hermana pequeña Saera, junto a sus padres decidieron comprometer a la joven Maerys con Lord Tymond Lannister logrando alianzas con el Occidente después de diversas tensiones entre ambas Casas. Un años después Daenerys da a luz a su ultima hija, Shaera la cual se casaría con Lord Arryn, hijo de Rodrik Arryn.

Su vida siguió siendo tranquila por diez años hasta que en 100 d. C., falleció su madre Alysanne siendo su muerte muy dolorosa para sus hijos y Poniente, pero su padre quedo roto al morir su gran amor. Daenerys se convirtió en la mujer mas importante de la Capital y tanto ella como su marido se encargaron de la regencia del reino al estar su padre muy enfermo y aun dolido por la muerte de su esposa.

Tres años después falleció su padre y los príncipes fueron coronados unos meses después de la muerte de su padre. La pareja fue aplaudida y elogiada por el pueblo que esperaban mucho de los hijos del Conciliador y la Bondadosa. Daenerys se involucro en el cuidado de sus hijos desde siempre, pero también se centro en sus relaciones personales y en la politica exterior. La reina fundo una pequeña asociación de mujeres llamada “convento de mujer” donde un grupo de mujeres nobles o de bajo estatus se reunían en las habitaciones de la reina vestidas con alguna prenda blanca para hablar de todo tipo de temas en especial intrigas & problemas políticos que sucedían en los Siete Reinos.

En 108 d. C., nació su nieto, Aenys Targaryen, hijo de su heredero Aenar Targaryen. Este nacimiento alegro mucho a los reyes que tenían la sucesión asegurada, pero se sabe que este acotecimiento tenso mas las relaciones entre Daenerys & Aegon con su nuera Jocasta Lannister que tenia un gran deseo de poder. Cuatro años después falleció su hijo, Aenar supuestamente de fiebres puerperales y su muerte la destrozo por completo, había perdido a su “pequeño dragón” y no volvería a verle.

La muerte de su hijo atemorizo a su marido debido a que si el fallecía repentinamente y su nieto aun era un niño, la madre de este podría tomar la regencia para ella y podría ser un caos. Aegon II al final tomo la decisión de declarar como su heredera a su propia esposa haciéndole jurar que cuando el príncipe Aenys cumpliera la mayoría de edad, ella se retiraría del trono & Daenerys acepto.

Los siguientes cinco años del reinado de su marido fueron tranquilos y Daenerys siguió reuniéndose con diferentes mujeres para poder conversar a lo que fue llamada “La politica” por sus grandes conocimientos y la pasión con la que los contaba. En 118 d. C., Aegon II falleció a los 65 años por vejez y esta muerte también le dolió a Daenerys ya que ellos siempre habían estado juntos en las buenas & en las malas. Tras el funeral de su marido, Daenerys fue coronada como Daenerys I Targaryen siendo la primera reina regente de la historia.

Tras ser coronada, una de sus primeras decisiones fue alejar a su nieto de su madre, Jocasta y esta fue exiliada poco después cuando trato de secuestrar a su propio hijo para obligar a su suegra a dejar la corona. Pesé a este gran asunto, el reinado de Daenerys fue tranquilo y sin tantos problemas de por medio centrándose en los actos de caridad, en dar un crecimiento cultural a Poniente y también se centro en el cuidado de su nieto al que amaba como si fuera su propio hijo.

En 125 d. C., Daenerys I empezo a presentar diversos problemas de salud teniendo que permanecer en cama durante sus últimos días. En su agonía fue acompañada por el príncipe Aenys al cual llego a llamar por el nombre de su hijo, Aenar pensando que se reencontro con su pequeño. Tras tres meses de enfermedad, la reina falleció ese miso año de problemas del corazón a los 72 años de edad siendo incinerada y sus cenizas fueron enterradas al lado de las de su esposo.

Mucho antes de su muerte dicto un testamento donde declaraba a Aenys de solo 16 años como mayor de edad y que se casase con su prima, Saera Targaryen que era la segunda hija del príncipe Valerion. Al final sus condiciones fueron aprobadas y Aenys fue coronado como Aenys II Targaryen, además de casarse con su prima la cual le dio cinco hijos entre ellos Daenerys la cual fue nombrada en honor a la reina.

#jaehaerys i targaryen #Alysanne Targaryen #daenerys i targaryen #Aegon II Targaryen #house targaryen

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echo-of-sounds · 4 years

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pursuing a relationship pt.3

How Toshinori would pursue and begin a relationship with someone.

This one got really long compared to the others. I’ve had some serious thoughts and feelings for Toshi lately.

Yagi Toshinori

Out of everyone, Toshi’s had the fewest relationships but wants one the most. He hasn’t gotten a lot of love in his life. Sure, fans scream his name, call him handsome and the best Hero there is, people take photos and praise him for everything, but that’s not intimacy. He wants a relationship filled with trust, devotion, appreciation, communication, and understanding. He wants to confide in someone at night. He wants affection. He just wants love.

He isn’t averse to any personality types or characteristics. He enjoys going out for a day of fun and exploring with energetic people. He also enjoys spending time indoors, relaxing together, watching movies with quieter people.

Though he tends to be more attracted to softer, genuine, and creative people. Throughout his life, he’s spent a lot of time with many gigantic personalities, stuffed with pride and intensity, so much so it becomes overbearing as they constantly fight for the top. As a result, tender-hearted people are who he tends to gravitate towards. It’s refreshing after his long and loud career.

Toshi also needs a listener. He doesn’t expect you to act like a therapist and solve all his problems. He just needs someone who he can sit down with and talk about the difficult things. He’s sick. He has anxieties. He struggles with life and the future. But being able to open up to you and you still want to stay and support him means the world to him.

When he develops a crush, it’s noticeable… to everyone. He leans forward whenever you talk and asks plenty of questions. He makes sure there’s time in his (often crowded) schedule for you. And his compliments are honestly just the sweetest. He knows it’s nice to call someone beautiful but it’s way more special when he applauds your strength, notices your integrity and passion, and fawns over your talents.

Toshi’s a little old-fashioned. He wants to be the one to ask you on a date, but it will take him a while to work up to it. You could kiss him on the cheek every time you greet him, hug him for ten solid minutes, and hold his hand down the sidewalk, but he’d still question if you actually like him…

Because he is All Might- that’s who people love. Even after his retirement, he feels the same. People will ask questions and beg for pictures because they love All Might. Yagi Toshinori isn’t a muscular, handsome, superhero. He’s so skinny you see his bones move. He coughs blood more than anyone should. His diet is limited. His energy is lower. He just isn’t what people know him to be in their minds. So he put relationships out if his.

Be patient with him. It may be obvious he’s interested in you but he needs time to think. He needs to understand that you’re interested in him. To help, keep spending time with him. Talk about his interests, his hobbies, his emotions, his fears. Soon, you’ll see his confidence in a relationship blossom. He’ll ask you out with courage and a beautiful smile.

He’s pretty open when it comes to what you do on the date. It depends on what you want to do and feel comfortable with. If you want a simple walk on the beach or picnic in the park, he’ll schedule it for a sunny but not too hot day. If you want to go to a restaurant, he picks one he knows you’ll like. Either way, he shows up at your door with a beautiful bouquet of flowers (and possibly some chocolate). He opens every door and pays for everything.

Your first kiss will be simple and cute. He’ll walk you home after the date and, after taking a sip of water to make sure there’s no blood in his mouth, ask if he could kiss you. His lips are light and surprisingly soft. As he pulls away, he squeezes your hand with an absolutely adorable, blush-covered face. If you ask for another one, he’ll gladly oblige.

Toshi isn’t against PDA but he doesn’t always want it. Part of it is because he’s famous. People flood around him and, subsequently, you. He never wants you to feel swamped or overwhelmed, especially if there’s a lot of camera flashes and blurted questions.

The other part is his overthinking sparks up, tenfold. He doesn’t let you know what he’s thinking even though it controls his behaviors: What if there’s someone looking to get revenge on him? What if they see you holding his hand? They’ll know you’re important to him and could hurt you. He wouldn’t be able to do anything because he doesn’t have his powers. He’d be helpless. You’d be beaten- maybe dead.

When you get back to his apartment after an anxiety-ridden day out, Toshi wants to cuddle. Physical reassurance is the best type for him. You’re warm. You’re real. You’re safe. He’s also a little touched starved. Feeling hands gently touch him, smooth over his scar like it’s the most delightful thing, lets him fully relax into you. His weight will settle on you as he falls asleep on your chest.

#all might #all might x reader #yagi toshinori #toshinori x reader #all might headcanons #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha headcanons

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troybeecham · 3 years

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Today, the Church remembers Gregory of Nazianzus (c. AD 329– 25 January 390), also known as Gregory the Theologian, who was was a 4th-century Archbishop of Constantinople, and theologian. He is widely considered the most accomplished rhetorical stylist of the patristic age. As a classically trained orator and philosopher, he infused Hellenism into the early church, establishing the paradigm of Byzantine theologians and church officials.

Ora pro nobis.

Gregory made a significant impact on the shape of Trinitarian theology among both Greek- and Latin-speaking theologians, and he is remembered as the “Trinitarian Theologian”. Much of his theological work continues to influence modern theologians, especially in regard to the relationship among the three Persons of the Triune God. Along with the brothers Basil the Great and Gregory of Nyssa, he is known as one of the Cappadocian Fathers.

Gregory is a saint in both Eastern and Western Christianity. In the Roman Catholic Church he is numbered among the Doctors of the Church; in the Eastern Orthodox Church and the Eastern Catholic Churches he is revered as one of the Three Holy Hierarchs, along with Basil the Great and John Chrysostom.

He is also one of only three men in the life of the Orthodox Church who have been officially designated “Theologian”, the other two being the Apostle St. John (the Evangelist), and St. Symeon the New Theologian.

After his baptism at age 30, Gregory gladly accepted his friend Basil’s invitation to join him in a newly founded monastery. The solitude was broken when Gregory’s father, a bishop, needed help in his diocese and estate. It seems that Gregory was ordained a priest practically by force, and only reluctantly accepted the responsibility. He skillfully avoided a schism that threatened when his own father made compromises with Arianism. At 41, Gregory was chosen suffragan bishop of Caesarea and at once came into conflict with Valens, the emperor, who supported the Arians.

An unfortunate by-product of the battle was the cooling of the friendship of two saints. Basil, his archbishop, sent him to a miserable and unhealthy town on the border of unjustly created divisions in his diocese. Basil reproached Gregory for not going to his see.

When protection for Arianism ended with the death of Valens, Gregory was called to rebuild the faith in the great see of Constantinople, which had been under Arian teachers for three decades. Retiring and sensitive, he dreaded being drawn into the whirlpool of corruption and violence. He first stayed at a friend’s home, which became the only orthodox church in the city. In such surroundings, he began giving the great sermons on the Trinity for which he is famous. In time, Gregory did rebuild the faith in the city, but at the cost of great suffering, slander, insults, and even personal violence. An interloper even tried to take over his bishopric.

Theodosius wanted to further unify the entire empire behind the orthodox position and decided to convene a church council to resolve matters of faith and discipline. Gregory was of similar mind in wishing to unify Christianity. In the spring of 381 they convened the Second Ecumenical Council in Constantinople, which was attended by 150 Eastern bishops. After the death of the presiding bishop, Meletius of Antioch, Gregory was selected to lead the Council. Hoping to reconcile the West with the East, he offered to recognize Paulinus as Patriarch of Antioch. The Egyptian and Macedonian bishops who had supported Maximus’s ordination arrived late for the Council. Once there, they refused to recognise Gregory’s position as head of the church of Constantinople, arguing that his transfer from the See of Sasima was canonically illegitimate.

Gregory was physically exhausted and worried that he was losing the confidence of the bishops and the emperor. Rather than press his case and risk further division, he decided to resign his office: “Let me be as the Prophet Jonah! I was responsible for the storm, but I would sacrifice myself for the salvation of the ship. Seize me and throw me … I was not happy when I ascended the throne, and gladly would I descend it.” He shocked the Council with his surprise resignation and then delivered a dramatic speech to Theodosius asking to be released from his offices. The emperor, moved by his words, applauded, commended his labor and granted his resignation. The Council asked him to appear once more for a farewell ritual and celebratory orations. Gregory used this occasion to deliver a final address and then departed.

His last days were spent in solitude and austerity. He wrote religious poetry, some of it autobiographical, of great depth and beauty. He was acclaimed simply as “the Theologian.”

Throughout his life Gregory faced stark choices. Should he pursue studies as a rhetor or philosopher? Would a monastic life be more appropriate than public ministry? Was it better to blaze his own path or follow the course mapped for him by his father and Basil? Gregory’s writings illuminate the conflicts which both tormented and motivated him. Biographers suggest that it was this dialectic which defined him, forged his character and inspired his search for meaning and truth.

For those who, like you, seek the truth of God’s love above all things, even at great personal cost; for those called to the service of the Holy Church, but who do not truly find their rest within the machinations of institutions that are so often lead by those who seek personal glory; for sensitive souls like you who are placed in positions of authority, but are often misunderstood or ineffectual for lack of desire to rule over others, but rather desire to lead through teaching and preaching the wondrous mystery of God, by the pursuit of humility, by example of holiness of life, devotion to worship, prayer, and learning, and love for the God who is Love.

O God, by your Holy Spirit you give to some the word of wisdom, to others the word of knowledge, and to others the word of faith: We praise your Name for the gifts of grace manifested in your servant Gregory, and we pray that your Church may never be destitute of such gifts; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

#christianity #jesus #god #saints #salvation #father troy beecham #troy beecham episcopal #father troy beecham episcopal

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go-redgirl · 3 years

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Attendees applaud and take photos during an unveiling ceremony for the new USPS Black Heritage stamp of Gwen Ifill at Metropolitan African Methodist Episcopal Church in Washington on Jan. 30, 2020. RNS photo by Adelle M. Banks

January 30, 2020 By Adelle M. Banks Share Tweet Share

WASHINGTON (RNS) — In the historic black church where she worshipped, the late journalist Gwen Ifill was remembered with a new Black Heritage stamp in a ceremony featuring dignitaries of the church, politics and journalism.

Speakers at the event Thursday (Jan. 30) at Metropolitan African Methodist Episcopal Church took turns describing Ifill’s courage in defying expectations and praised her faith-fueled ability to serve as a mentor to young journalists who followed in her footsteps.

“The founders of imperial America never intended for Gwen to be Gwen,” the Rev. William H. Lamar IV, pastor of Metropolitan AME Church, told the hundreds gathered for the Forever stamp ceremony. “But the founders of the African Methodist Episcopal Church did intend for Gwen to be Gwen and for a million Gwens to follow Gwen Ifill.”

Deputy Postmaster General Ronald A. Stroman said the U.S. Postal Service considered many settings for the ceremony for the 43rd stamp in its Black Heritage series but determined the Washington church was the appropriate venue.

“Her faith grounded her,” he said just before unveiling a supersize version of the stamp before the large cross at the front of the sanctuary. “It gave her strength and informed the values that guided her life.”

RELATED: AME Church founder honored with postage stamp

The new Gwen Ifill stamp. Image courtesy of USPS

Ifill, the first African American and first woman to moderate a major television news-analysis show, died at age 61 in 2016 after a cancer diagnosis. She was the moderator and managing editor of “Washington Week” and senior political correspondent for “The News Hour with Jim Lehrer.” Ifill became co-anchor of the “PBS News Hour,” part of the first all-women team to anchor a national nightly news program. Earlier in her career, she worked for newspapers including The Washington Post and The New York Times.

The ceremony featured remembrances from friends and colleagues, including Post contributing columnist Michele Norris, who served as mistress of ceremonies, and Ifill’s News Hour co-host Judy Woodruff, who noted the stamp dedication occurred during the same week when the life of their mentor Jim Lehrer will be remembered after his death on Jan. 23.

Washington Mayor Muriel Bowser issued a proclamation declaring Gwen Ifill Day in her city. Former President Bill Clinton sent a video with remarks welcoming the journalist’s recognition, and former Attorney General Eric Holder read a congratulatory statement from former President Barack Obama.

Ifill’s brother, the Rev. Earle Ifill, said it was significant to have his sister’s memory honored at an African Methodist Episcopal church affiliated with a denomination in which she was an active part and her relatives held prominent roles.

The Rev. Earle Ifill, brother of Gwen Ifill, speaks at Metropolitan African Methodist Episcopal Church in Washington on Jan. 30, 2020. RNS photo by Adelle M. Banks

“It is delightful and meaningful in the fact that not only is it an honor for her and for us as a family but for the AME Church as a whole as she has spent her life in service to the church,” Ifill, who retired in 2019 as the presiding elder of the denomination’s Atlanta East District, said in a phone interview earlier in the week.

Known for her broadcast and print journalism and moderating of election-season debates, Gwen Ifill was also the daughter of parents who were natives of the Caribbean and who became deeply involved in the AME Church. Her father, a minister, eventually became its general secretary, a post he still held when he died in 1991, and her mother was active in the denomination’s Women’s Missionary Society.

Ifill had sung in choirs from the time of her youth and found local AME churches to join as her career moved her to the Boston area, Baltimore and Washington, her brother said.

She joined Metropolitan in 1989 and, among other activities, narrated special programs such as a presentation of Handel’s “Messiah.”

Patricia Ann Morris DeVeaux, the wife of Bishop William DeVeaux, a former pastor at Metropolitan, wrote of recruiting Ifill for the congregation’s “Voices of Inspiration.

_______________________________________

OPINION: Gwen Ifill has been truly missed she was one of the best reporters on PSS News-Hour. We believe that she is in Heaven.

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blackkudos · 4 years

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Canada Lee

Canada Lee (born Leonard Lionel Cornelius Canegata; March 3, 1907 – May 9, 1952) was an American actor who pioneered roles for African Americans. After careers as a jockey, boxer and musician, he became an actor in the Federal Theatre Project, most notably in a 1936 production of Macbeth adapted and directed by Orson Welles. Lee later starred in Welles's original Broadway production of Native Son (1941). A champion of civil rights in the 1930s and 1940s, Lee was blacklisted and died shortly before he was scheduled to appear before the House Un-American Activities Committee. He furthered the African-American tradition in theatre pioneered by such actors as Paul Robeson. Lee was the father of actor Carl Lee.

Biography

Canada Lee was born Leonard Lionel Cornelius Canegata on March 3, 1907, in the San Juan Hill neighborhood of Manhattan in New York City. His father, James Cornelius Lionel Canegata, was born on the Caribbean island of St. Croix, and as a youth had migrated to New York, where he married Lydia Whaley Gadsen. Raised by his parents in Harlem, Lee had an aptitude for music, and at age seven he began studying violin and piano with J. Rosamond Johnson at the Music School Settlement for Colored People. He made his concert debut at age 11, performing a student recital at Aeolian Hall. But after seven years of music studies, without explanation, he put away his violin and ran away from home. In 1921, aged 14, Lee went to Saratoga Springs, New York, and began a two-year career as a jockey.

Lee returned to his parents' home in Harlem in 1923 with no idea what he was going to do next. He considered returning to music, but an old school friend suggested that he try boxing. At one amateur match, fight announcer Joe Humphries saw the name "Canagata, Lee" on the card he was using. He tossed the card aside and instead announced "Canada Lee"—a name that Lee liked and adopted. In the amateur ring he won 90 out of 100 bouts and the national amateur lightweight title.

Lee turned pro at age 19, in October 1926, and became a favorite with audiences. At 5 feet 9 inches (1.75 m) and about 144 pounds (65 kg), he fought as a welterweight. His boxing statistics vary due to incomplete coverage and record keeping for the sport in the 1920s and 1930s. Boxing historian Donald R. Koss documents Lee having 60 bouts 1927–31, the majority of them taking place 1927–28. The New York Times reported that Lee had some 200 professional matches and lost only about 25.

During his victorious 10-round bout with Andy Divodi at Madison Square Garden on December 12, 1929, Lee was dealt a blow over his right ear that detached his retina. With treatment his vision could have been saved, but Lee feared losing his successful career and masked his injury. In time he lost all sight in his right eye. He quit professional boxing in 1933. Despite having made an estimated $90,000 during his boxing career (roughly equivalent to $1.7 million today), Lee was broke. "Just threw it away," Lee later said. Lee eventually lobbied for insurance, health care, financial consultation and retirement homes for fighters. "The average boxer possesses little education," he said in 1946. "If he winds up broke, he has no trade, no education and nobody to turn to."

As Lee's fighting career began to wind down, he put together a small dance band that played at obscure clubs. When an old friend, sportswriter Ed Sullivan, plugged him in his new entertainment column, Lee and his group began landing better engagements. His career as a bandleader peaked in 1933 when his group played at the Lafayette Theatre in Harlem. The following year he opened his own small club, The Jitterbug, which he managed to operate for six months. When it closed he had no prospects, and his mother convinced him to simply get a job.

Acting

All my life I've been on the verge of something. I'm almost becoming a concert violinist and I run away to the races. I'm almost a good jockey and I go overweight. I'm almost a champion prizefighter and my eyes go bad. Now I've got it, now I've got what I'm going to be.

Lee discovered a love for Broadway theatre during his years as a prizefighter. He remembered Show Boat as the first stage production he ever saw: "A big, tough fighter, all muscle, just sobbing," he recalled.

His acting career began by accident in 1934. While at a YMCA to apply for a job as a laborer, Lee stumbled upon an audition in progress and was recognized by playwright Augustus Smith. Lee was invited to try out, and won a supporting role in Brother Mose, directed by Frank H. Wilson. Sponsored by New York's Civil Works Administration, the show toured the boroughs, playing at community centers and city parks into the fall of the year. In October 1934 Lee succeeded Rex Ingram in the Theatre Union's revival of Stevedore, which toured to Chicago, Detroit and other U.S. cities after its run on Broadway. It was his first professional role.

Lee then was cast in his first major role, that of Banquo, in the legendary Federal Theatre Project production of Macbeth (1936), adapted and directed by Orson Welles.

"I never would have amounted to anything in the theatre if it hadn't been for Orson Welles," Lee recalled. "The way I looked at acting, it was interesting and it was certainly better than going hungry. But I didn't have a serious approach to it until … I bumped into Orson Welles. He was putting on a Federal Theatre production of Macbeth with Negro players and, somehow, I won the part of Banquo. He rehearsed us for six solid months, but when the play finally went on before an audience, it was right—and it was a wonderful sensation, knowing it was right. Suddenly, the theatre became important to me. I had a respect for it, for what it could say. I had the ambition—I caught it from Orson Welles—to work like mad and be a convincing actor."

Macbeth was sold out for ten weeks at the Lafayette Theatre. After an additional two weeks on Broadway it toured the nation, including performances at the Texas Centennial Exposition in Dallas.

After five months in a supporting role, Lee succeeded Rex Ingram as the lead in the stage production Haiti (1938), portraying Haitian slave turned emperor Henri Christophe. One of the Federal Theatre Project's most popular productions, Haiti was seen by some 90,000 people at the Lafayette Theatre in Harlem and at Boston's Copley Theatre.

In January 1939, with the end of the Federal Theatre Project, Lee won a role in Mamba's Daughters, a Broadway success that toured North America and returned to Broadway for another brief run in 1940. Lee took a break from the road tour to make his motion picture debut in Keep Punching (1939), a film about boxing. He made his radio debut as narrator of the weekly CBS jazz series Flow Gently, Sweet Rhythm (1940–41). As that regular series came to an end, he opened a restaurant at 102 West 136th Street, Canada Lee's Chicken Coop, which offered authentic South Carolina cuisine, jazz and blues. Lee kept it going despite chronic financial difficulties.

Lee played the lead role in the 1940 revival of Theodore Ward's Big White Fog. A 1938 Federal Theatre Project production, the play was remounted by the newly created Negro Playwrights Company, founded in New York by Ward, Langston Hughes, Paul Robeson, Theodore Browne, Richard Wright and Alain Locke.

Lee became a star overnight in his ultimate stage success, Native Son (1941), an adaptation of Richard Wright's novel staged on Broadway by Orson Welles. The show was a spectacular hit for both Welles and Lee, who starred in the initial New York run, a 19-month national tour, and a second run on Broadway with accessible ticket prices. "Mr. Lee's performance is superb," wrote Brooks Atkinson of The New York Times, who called him "certainly the best Negro actor of his time, as well as one of the best actors in this country." Wright also applauded the performance, noting the contrast between Lee's affable personality and his intensity as Bigger Thomas. The sympathetic portrayal of a black man driven to murder by racial hatred brought much criticism however, especially from the Catholic Diocese of Brooklyn and the Legion of Decency, and the ensuing pressure forced the play to close.

During World War II, Lee continued to act in plays and in films. In 1942, he played in two comedies by William Saroyan, and earned approving reviews despite the generally negative response to these plays. In 1943, his name was above the title on the marquee for South Pacific, a race-themed drama directed by Lee Strasberg that again was panned by critics but won Lee critical praise.

Perhaps Lee's most famous film role was in Alfred Hitchcock's Lifeboat (1944), in which he played ship’s steward Joe Spencer, one of 8 men and women who survive the sinking of the freighter carrying them from New York to London and are joined in their lifeboat by a survivor of the crew of the U-boat that destroyed their vessel.

According to a June 22, 1943, Hollywood Reporter news item, Lee was the first actor cast for the film. The script was criticized for making Joe "too stereotypical". Lee testified that he attempted to round out the character by revising dialogue, primarily eliminating repeated "yessir"s and "nossir"s that sounded subservient, and cutting some actions. An NAACP critique of the film condemned the role of Joe and praised Lee’s performance. The Baltimore Afro-American's review, while commenting on the character's shortcomings, praised Lee's portrayal. Historian Rebecca Sklaroff, while writing in 2009 that Joe's role was more "tokenistic" than black roles in the wartime films Sahara and Bataan, noted that Joe was depicted as compassionate, dependable and heroic. He is the only one who resists the impulse of mob fury that leads the other characters to kill the German. He is the only character who steps forward to disarm the wounded German sailor rescued at the end of the film.

Lee's successful radio career continued with New World A-Comin', which made its debut in March 1944. He narrated the first two seasons of the groundbreaking WMCA radio series that presented Negro history and culture to mainstream American audiences.

He became the first African American to play Caliban, in Margaret Webster’s 1945 Broadway rendition of The Tempest. Lee had admired Shakespeare since his turn in Macbeth; indeed, at the time of his death he was preparing to play Othello on film.

In 1946, Lee played a principal role in On Whitman Avenue, a drama about racial prejudice directed by Margo Jones. Lee produced the play, making him the first African-American producer on Broadway. The play spoke directly to the need for interracial housing following World War II and won the praise of former First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt, who wrote weekly columns encouraging readers to see it.

In the autumn of 1946, Lee made American theatre history when he portrayed the villain Daniel de Bosola in John Webster's The Duchess of Malfi. Presented in Boston and on Broadway, the production marked the first time a black actor had played a white role on the stage. Lee wore a special white paste that had been used medically, to cover burns and marks, but had never before been used in the theatre.

In 1947, he had a supporting role in Robert Rossen's Body and Soul, another boxing picture.

In 1948, Lee played his last stage role, that of a devoted slave in Set My People Free, Dorothy Heyward's drama based on the aborted 1822 slave revolt led by Denmark Vesey.

In 1949, he took a supporting role in Lost Boundaries, a drama based on William Lindsay White's book of the same title, a nonfiction account of Dr. Albert C. Johnston and his family, who passed for white while living in New England in the 1930s and 1940s.

Lee's last film appearance was the starring role of minister Stephen Kumalo in Cry, the Beloved Country (1951).

Civil rights activism

As an actor, Lee came into contact with many of the leading progressive figures in the country. Langston Hughes, for instance, wrote two brief plays for Lee; these were submitted to the Theater Project, but their criticism of racism in America was deemed too controversial, and neither was staged. Lee spoke to schools, sponsored various humanitarian events, and began speaking directly against the existing segregation in America's armed forces, while simultaneously acknowledging the need to win World War II. To this latter end, he appeared at numerous USO events; he won an award from the United States Recruiting Office and another from the Treasury Department for his help in selling war bonds. These sentiments would carry on throughout his life, culminating in his early firsthand account of apartheid in South Africa.

Lee was an early influence on physician and human rights activist H. Jack Geiger. They met in 1940 when Geiger, a 14-year-old middle-class Jewish runaway, was backstage at a Broadway production of Native Son. Lee agreed to take Geiger in when he showed up at his door in Harlem asking for a place to stay. With the consent of his parents, Geiger stayed with Lee for over a year. Lee took on the role of surrogate father and introduced Geiger to Langston Hughes, Billy Strayhorn, Richard Wright, and Adam Clayton Powell. Geiger eventually became a journalist, then a doctor who co-founded the first community health center in the United States, Columbia Point Health Center in Dorchester, Massachusetts. He became a founder of Physicians for Social Responsibility and Physicians for Human Rights, and established community health centers in Mississippi and South Africa. Geiger says he would never have moved so deeply in these worlds so quickly if not for his experiences with Canada Lee.

By the late 1940s, the rising tide of anti-communism had made many of Lee’s earlier contacts politically dangerous. In 1949, the trade journal Variety stated that under no circumstance was Lee to be used in American Tobacco’s televised production of a radio play he had recently starred in because he was "too controversial".

The same year, the FBI offered to clear Lee’s name if he would publicly call Paul Robeson a communist. Lee refused and responded by saying, "All you’re trying to do is split my race." According to newspaper columnist Walter Winchell, Lee stated that he intended to come out and "publicly blast Paul Robeson." However, the fact that the friendship between the two actors remained until Lee's death suggests that Robeson put no faith in Winchell's claim.

At the height of the Hollywood blacklist, Lee managed to find work in 1950 as the star of a British film Cry, The Beloved Country, for which both he and Sidney Poitier were smuggled into South Africa as indentured servants in order to play their roles as African ministers. During filming, Lee had his first heart attack, and he never fully recovered his health. The film’s message of universal brotherhood stands as Lee's final work towards this aim.

Being on the Hollywood blacklist prevented him from getting further work. Scheduled to appear in Italy to begin production on a filmed version of Othello, he was repeatedly notified that his passport "remained under review". Lee was reportedly to star as Bigger Thomas in the Argentine version of Native Son but was replaced in the role by Richard Wright, author of the novel, when Lee had to withdraw.

Family life

In December 1925, Lee married Juanita Eugenia Waller. On November 22, 1926, they had a son, Carl Vincent Canegata, who became actor Carl Lee. The couple separated while their son was young, and they were amicably divorced in 1942.

In 1934, Lee began a love affair with publisher and peace activist Caresse Crosby, despite the threat of miscegenation laws. They often had lunch in uptown New York in Harlem at the then-new restaurant "Franks", where they could maintain their secret relationship. When Lee was performing in Washington, D.C., during the 1940s, the only restaurant in the city where they could eat together was an African restaurant named the Bugazi. Crosby and Lee's intimate relationship continued into the mid-1940s.

In March 1951, Lee married Frances Pollack. They remained together until he died just over a year later.

Death

Lee died of a reported heart attack at the age of 45 on May 9, 1952, in Manhattan. It was later revealed by his widow, Frances Pollack, that he had been diagnosed with uremia and died of kidney disease, slipping into a coma and passing away 10 days after his diagnosis. He was buried at Woodlawn Cemetery in The Bronx.

#03/03 #05/09

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xlady-saya · 4 years

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i’ve had a love of my own [ch 2]

Relationships: andrew/neil

Summary: Despite everything Neil could’ve imagined for his life, he never thought he’d be here, finally giving the world the interview they’ve always wanted.

It’s been decades, but even with his numerous accolades and sports wins, he finds that they’re the least important thing about his life.

Neil can’t help but laugh. Andrew would be so annoyed if he were here.

Of course, Neil only wants to talk about him, and the life they spent together.

Tags: interviews, post canon, major character death but not how u think I swear lol, neil is an old man retelling his memories about andrew, cheesy romance, post retirement, see more tags on ao3

Read on ao3!

"What do you remember most about the night you were inducted into the hall of fame?"

Neil's suit collar feels especially tight as he descends from the podium, his body pulling him in one direction and one direction only. The smile on his face feels too tight, but the hoard of smiling faces and applauding hands around him don’t seem to notice. The rabbit instincts, as Andrew would call them, surge up aggressively. Neil hates public appearances like this, especially when the event is partly focused on him. He can only hope his speech wasn't too terrible.

People shout out their congratulations as he passes, but they all blend together like an oil slick meeting water. Pretty on the outside, but otherwise devastating to the fragile nature of his mind. Bright lights above bounce off full champagne glasses, creating a blurry horizon he has to squint at.

Years of public exposure has done nothing for his dislike of crowds, and he chases the feeling of Andrew's protective bubble. Warm, safe, home.

It feels like that one time Nicky dragged him to a party hosted by the baseball team in college, and left him to go hurl his guts out over the side of the house. At a certain point, Neil had been so overwhelmed he had hastily retreated from the drunk mob into the safe haven of the bathroom.

It's an eerily similar feeling, except this time his safe haven comes in the form of Andrew, suave and bored as he leans against the back wall. Much, much better.

Neil nearly trips over his feet in an effort to reach him, but Andrew is always one step ahead. As if sensing Neil's distress, Andrew extends a hand, and Neil refrains from rolling his eyes at the muffled gasp he hears somewhere in the back.

Catching a glimpse of them acting like a couple is akin to seeing a shooting star in the daytime, according to tabloids. In Neil's mind, they all simply don't look hard enough. Sometimes just the way Andrew looks at him makes Neil feel like they should be behind closed doors, with how it radiates off both of them. He's not sure why people don't see it, because surely Andrew's denials aren't believable. He's incredibly affectionate, if all his gifts and gestures say anything. And more than that...

At the end of any given day, if someone checked, Andrew's fingerprints would be all over Neil. Some on the back of his wrist, trickling down his spine and ghosting over his lower back, dotted along his throat.

Skin deep, with heat that travels even farther.

He takes Andrew's hand gratefully, letting himself be pulled in by the relief of that unparalleled shelter.

"You call that a speech, Josten?" Andrew asks, though Neil catches the spark that sets his eyes aflame. Good—Neil missed it. These events sap the energy out of Andrew like a vacuum, and he knows he only puts up with them for Neil's sake. Neil is happy to be a compact little battery when Andrew needs it.

Neil readjusts their hands but doesn't pull away, giving Andrew a small squeeze to pair with his smirk.

"Like you could do better," he snarks, but moves against the wall anyways, shoulder pressed to Andrew's. They've both bulked up from years with the pros, but where Neil will always be somewhat lithe, Andrew is stocky and built like brick. Neil sighs, breathing in the scent of Andrew's cologne and the subtle mint of nicotine gum.

There are still some eyes on them, but people are mostly looking at the next speaker. Neil can't make out Kevin or Thea in the crowd, but that's probably a good thing given what's about to happen. "You didn't even give a speech," he remarks playfully, a hint for Andrew to chase.

Andrew purses his lips, not taking it until Neil leans further into his space. Neil knows he has the advantage here; he's dressed in a fitted suit, personally picked out by Andrew, with blue accents that match their team (and additionally, his eyes). However, that’s not Neil’s biggest advantage, considering he's wearing the watch Andrew bought him for Christmas—the one with a rabbit stamped cleanly into the back of the metal face. 'Now you can't use your dead phone as an excuse,' Andrew had said, but Neil had seen through it.

Neil nudges him cheekily, gesturing to the room full of people.

"Surprised you're even here," Neil adds, feigning shyness in another effort to break through Andrew's (flimsy) blockade.

It works. Neil's not sure if Andrew's gotten softer over time, or if he's gotten better at this. Though he guesses he's the same. There are not many walls left for Andrew to scale on his end either.

"Don't be stupid," Andrew replies, firm and sharp. It sends comfortable shivers down Neil's spine, Andrew’s sternness causing the joke to evaporate. Even the insinuation that he'd miss Neil's crowning achievement...he won't allow it.

Come to think of it, Andrew's probably thought about it more than Neil. Neil worked so hard for this moment, to make a name for himself in the sport he adores. And he's proud of himself, he is, and he deserves to be in the hall of fame with how much he's fought. Yet now that he's actually here, surrounded by people who want nothing more than to sing his praises, all he needs is...

Neil giggles, whispering in quiet Russian. "You're proud of meeee."

Andrew huffs, but Neil powers on. "Admit it or...you know what will happen, don't you?"

"Neil."

"You look really handsome tonight—"

"Neil, I'm serious," Andrew tries, and while Andrew isn't the type to blush, the way his entire body stills might as well be equivalent to a fire. Neil's hand drifts to Andrew's lower back, because casual touches are second nature to them now. Instead of pushing away from the touch, Andrew's back bends for him, and Neil's gives a subtle press.

Truly, this is Neil's favorite tactic, complimenting Andrew. He'd learned in their last year of college that Andrew can't handle it, and the blond can try to say he hates it all he wants. But Neil never hears a 'no,' does he? "I love seeing the way the suit jacket fits over your shoulders. It reminds me of how strong you are. You're my anchor, you know? You always keep me safe, I feel like I can do anything if you're there. I love knowing this is real, that you're here with me and you'd fight to keep us—"

Neil jumps when Andrew turns on him, but his triumphant grin sits firmly in place.

Andrew leans him in to cut him off with a kiss, like he's accustomed to, but that's not something he's willing to give the paparazzi today. He takes Neil's hand again, glancing around. "We're leaving," he says, because he knows that's what Neil really wanted all along. Duh, Neil already knows Andrew is proud of him. "I've had it with this place."

Neil's body sings at the word choice, at the words unspoken: 'but not with you.'

"Mhm," he agrees happily. When Andrew had been inducted into the hall of fame, they'd ditched the ceremony even earlier than this. So it's about time. "What's the plan?"

Andrew doesn't miss a beat. He tilts his head in the direction of the far doors, and Neil zeroes in on them. He'd clocked all the exits when they first arrived from force of habit, so he follows along with Andrew easily. "Reporters are at the west wing entrance, we'll have to sneak out the service entrance past the kitchens. It's handled."

Neil smirks broadly, and lets Andrew lead the way. One advantage to being so short? It's a hell of a lot more efficient to duck down behind people. "Did you already make a deal with the wait staff?"

Andrew's expressions in public are still quite reserved and closed off, but Neil can feel the smug energy radiating off his back as they push through the kitchen doors. None of the staff even bat an eye. In fact, some of them are trying extremely hard to not look at them.

Neil looks at Andrew, brow raised.

"You'd be surprised what a couple autographs can get you," Andrew says, pulling them around a corner to survey the last stretch between them and the outside world. They should be in the clear, but the last thing they want is to run into a security guard or overactive publicist walking through these back hallways. Neil can't contain his excitement though, his leg thumping uncontrollably against the linoleum. Andrew pauses when he notices, and there's that flash of amusement Neil loves so much. "Control yourself, bunny."

"Stop making me wait," Neil shoots back, because he rarely has the opportunity to be this rebellious. As much as he cusses out reporters and fights people on the actual court, he misses the giddy mischief of sneaking around with Andrew. It's like making out on the roof all over again, or trying to be quiet during movie nights with Andrew's hand caressing his thigh.

It's exhilarating, and he can read Andrew's physical cues so well by now. The shift of his feet, the tension in his shoulders...It's like when he's about to block a shot with his bare hands, except this time he pulls Neil down the hall in a sprint.

He knows he's supposed to be quiet, but the best he can do is muffle his laughter with his free hand as he lets Andrew carry them out of the venue.

If Neil bumps into a cart of metal trays, they're long gone before anyone can react to the sound.

The Lotus comes to a stop in the empty parking lot of the old football stadium. It's one of their favorite places to escape to, a project the city keeps claiming it will repurpose but never does. The lampposts lining the giant lot still work, but there's not a car in sight, the old building dark and menacing. To Neil, it's just...theirs.

Neil stumbles out of the small car, missing the backseat of the Maserati. He wishes they were driving their new Maz instead, but it's Andrew's signature car, and they knew they'd need to lay low.

Ha. To think they'd be invisible in a car like this.

Again Neil has to right himself, his pants still sitting halfway down his thighs. He's glad Andrew thought ahead with bringing them a change of clothes, but the cramped space isn't the best for changing into jeans. He has a feeling Andrew did that on purpose, forgoing Neil's sweats.

Doesn't help that Neil's legs are jelly for other reasons.

Andrew slides out of the driver’s side with a lot more finesse, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand as he comes around. Helpless, Neil drops his arms and lets Andrew pull up his pants.

It's the little things.

Neil smiles when Andrew sighs, loading some of his weight on top of Neil. He won't call it a recharge, Neil just knows. Neil plays with the loose strands of hair at Andrew's nape, at peace in the piercing cold, no real landmark in sight apart from the decaying stadium. It's weird; it reminds him a lot of when he and his mother would camp out in abandoned lots. Vantage points from all sides, but the risk of exposure and openness were high too.

Here though, more than ten years later, Neil basks in the vulnerability, because nowhere feels unsafe with Andrew in his arms like this. He lets Andrew sway them back and forth for a bit, and yeah, this is preferable to the sounds of clinking champagne glasses and excessive applause.

His publicist will give him shit for it later, but he wouldn't exactly be Neil Josten if he didn't cause problems.

Neil smiles into the distance, watching the flickering of a nearby lamppost. "The movie starts in an hour," he says eventually, and Andrew nods into Neil's neck once before pulling away. There's no disappointment in his eyes, and he taps Neil's watch to the beat of a song Neil can't place.

Instead, he just zips up Andrew's open fly, smirking at the unimpressed stare he gets. "You're a nuisance."

"I know," Neil says proudly, and watches as Andrew goes back to the driver's side. He looks a lot cozier and harder to recognize now, dressed in Neil's Palmetto hoodie and jeans.

"C'mon, we need to grab food still," Andrew says, and at the reminder, Neil's stomach growls. If they had stayed an hour more at the event they probably would've been fed fancy catered meals, but that would've messed with their Friday tradition of greasy drive in food.

Neil knows they’re showing a double zombie movie feature today, and he does not want to miss it. He straps in just in time for Andrew to hit the gas, and doesn't even speak up about all the traffic laws they break to make it there on time.

"How mad do you think Kevin is?" Neil asks when Andrew is passing him his soda. He fits it snuggly in between his thighs, jumping from the cold. It can't be helped; the lone cupholder is reserved for Andrew's milkshake, in danger of overflowing from whipped cream.

Andrew turns back to the cashier at the drive thru, and their eyes are still on the verge of popping out of their sockets. They must be new. The other coworkers regard Andrew and Neil with warm familiarity, a little too used to the two famous athletes rolling up for food their nutritionist would not approve of. Andrew takes their bag from the worker without much acknowledgement of his shock, peeling off before they can so much as stutter a sound of disbelief.

They'll get used to it.

Greedily, Neil digs through the bag.

"I think he expects it by now," Andrew answers, uncaring. His eyes flick to the side when Neil's rummaging pauses, and Neil sends him a suspicious look.

"Two fries," he states, not quite a question, but a confirmation of what he's seeing at the bottom of the bag. Two orders of fries.

Then, in the privacy of their car, Andrew lets his feelings shine through. He rolls his eyes, but the edge of a smile plays on his lips. "Don't act like you don't eat half of mine. I got you your own for once."

A 'hmph' escapes Neil's mouth, and he holds a fry in front of his face. He can't exactly refute Andrew's claims, he is a notorious fry fiend, but...

He doesn't have to like it.

"Aren't I sweet?" Andrew says, mockingly, and Neil hates that the answer is actually yes.

"Salty," he corrects, surrendering to pop the fry into Andrew's mouth.

That's all he's getting from Neil's stash though.

The Lotus roars as Andrew pulls away from the stand and up the nearby hill. Most people at the drive in come early, eager to get spots closer to the screen, but they have a special spot far away from the throng of people. The hill only houses one or two other cars who have the same idea, spaced out far and free to talk or fool around in the backseats.

Neil never pays them any mind; it's hard to give attention to anything that isn't Andrew once the blond actually starts talking, offering theories about the plot or characters on screen he may or may not actually believe.

Neil has a suspicion Andrew just likes giving him more reasons to talk too.

The first movie is older, remastered but still carrying that grainy quality old horror movies have. The colors are subdued, almost rusty, and Neil's fixated by the way the flashes dance on Andrew's skin. Whether it be splotches of red or the ominous sunset, just before the eerie music begins, the scenes reflect in Andrew's golden eyes to the point where Neil can hardly follow the story.

Not that it matters, it's zombies. What more is there to get?

"Are you satisfied with the effects for once?" Andrew drawls, though surely he knows Neil's been staring at him for the last ten minutes. He doesn't put up a fight anymore when it comes to that, instead playing with Neil's salt ridden fingertips and drinking his milkshake.

Smiling, Neil lets his eyes drift to the screen. A show of gore and fake blood has him nodding, not nearly as affronted as he usually is. The woman on screen is a good actress, though movies will never get true anguished screams exactly right.

"Mm, practical ones are better," Neil says, commenting on the lack of CGI. Another good thing about older movies: they had to build the monsters themselves, had to spend a lot more time on the makeup and fake guts. It's slightly more unsettling, considering what Neil has seen and done, but less annoying than the computer generated stuff.

When Neil zones out too long, he feels a fry poke his cheek, and he opens his mouth automatically. Andrew watches him with a small smile. Neil's not sure when Andrew grew more comfortable smiling, but somewhere along the way they both got used to it. It's a subtle, quiet expression on the blond, but that's how Neil likes it. Andrew's personality will never be loud, never cheery like Nicky's or Matt's. But it feels like a secret, something reserved for those that mean a lot to the blond. Neil can never feel anything but pride when he sees it, when Andrew lets himself express a bone deep contentment for those people in his life.

For Neil.

"What is it?" Andrew asks, and Neil waves at the screen, bored with it all of a sudden.

"I'll never understand the point of people who approach the first zombie," he says, and he says this every time. And alright, he knows that's the only way to truly kick off the plot but it always rubs him the wrong way.

"It's not like they know it's a zombie, Neil," Andrew replies, in reference to the next unfortunate victim to approach the zombified man in the park. The zombie had been stumbling around, and the older lady simply couldn't help but ask if the man was alright. Being a good samaritan will get you killed every time.

Neil throws Andrew a look, aware that Andrew isn't so much inviting Neil's rant as much as he's poking it hard with a stick.

"Excuse me, I'm already wary of normal people walking around," Neil points out. And that's justified in his mind, given what he's been through. People are weird and should be avoided unless absolutely necessary. Neil's therapist, who he's begrudgingly getting used to, might not agree but Neil's not quite ready to fully tackle the issue yet. Instead, he gestures to the way the poor lady's face is now being eaten. "I see someone stumbling around like that? I'm not going near them! At minimum you should consider them drunk and violent."

Or at the very least: real fucking annoying.

"I think you have more survival experience than most people," Andrew says, but Neil knows he's not actually defending the character's stupidity. Andrew agrees, and his smile grows when Neil huffs.

For effect, Neil slumps back into his seat, arms crossed. When Andrew tries to reach for his hand, he playfully swats it away, doing his best to not show cracks in the mask he's wearing. It's a skill he learned from his boyfriend, the complete lack of expression. Problem is he can seldom keep it up for longer than a few minutes.

Neil eventually smirks, right on cue, turning over in the passenger seat so his body is facing Andrew. It's not nearly as seductive as he wants it to be, what with the food wrappers and wrinkly clothes, but he knows it's enough to be infuriating. "You think it's hot," he sing songs, and Andrew sighs.

This time, when he reaches out, Neil doesn't refuse the offered hand. On screen, more unassuming citizens are devoured.

The image of the crowd reminds him of the banquet, of his switched off phone that's probably blowing up with questions about where they are. It's another world at this point—the expensive suits, dinner, the rehearsed words.

Here in their car, sitting in the dark in his hoodie with his boyfriend's hand in his, Neil feels far more spoiled. That doesn't mean he's not appreciative though, and the weight of his accomplishment sits warm in his chest, flowing through him to remind him it's not a dream. He's alive, he's here, he's with—

"Yes," Andrew interrupts Neil's train of thought, voice nearly a whisper. "But your downfall is obvious."

That gets Neil's attention, though he does preen from the compliment. "Hm?"

Andrew shifts in his own seat, and for the first time that night, Neil realizes how tired the blond must be. His muscles slump with exhaustion, his eyes blinking away the strain, but it's a good tired, the kind you feel when you can finally relax and sink into your bed. Home. Neil experiences that a lot, when it's the two of them, and the scope of the feeling is only intensified by Andrew's words.

"You'd go back," he reminds Neil, because that's now something that can't be debated. Neil's breathing stutters, and he hears the unspoken words: for me.

It's no surprise that no matter how things change, Andrew's first instinct will be to chip away at something, to present a flaw to protect himself. Neil's not sure he's even aware he's doing it, the need to value himself as something lowly and not worth fighting for.

Neil will keep proving him wrong, time and time again.

"That's not a downfall, that's strengthening my team," Neil quips, and Andrew huffs a laugh, rolling his eyes.

But Neil won't let him get away with that. He picks the buzzing insecurity swarming around Andrew's head right from the air, and crushes it until there's nothing left. At least for the moment; with them it always comes back, they just get better at dealing with it.

"I mean it," Neil says, and it's not him being a shit like back at the banquet. This isn't a barrage of compliments to make Andrew flustered, and from the way the blond stills, he understands that. Neil's tone holds an almost dangerous quality, ready to slash anyone who would dare refute it. It's hollow, haunting; he would've been a much better actor for horror films than the ones in this movie. "Andrew, if you're with me, I can do anything."

That hasn't stopped being true, and he doesn't think it'll ever be the case. He won't ever be without Andrew.

Andrew doesn't tell him to be quiet or stop, just lets the words settle between them and mix with the suspenseful music from the screen. There's a muffled scream below from an open window as soon as the jump scare happens, but neither of them flinch. Andrew's gaze bores into him as the blond shifts in his seat, mirroring Neil's awkward pose.

They're both still so compact though, they make it work. Neil pulls their hands up onto the center console, rubbing the back of Andrew's palm.

"Hey," he says stupidly, after he's been staring too long. Andrew's gaze turns sleepy, gooey, if Neil will be so bold. Andrew doesn't respond to his earlier claim, and Neil knows parts of Andrew's language well enough to know that the silence speaks more towards his agreement than anything.

Andrew may not accept all of it, but he'll hold it close, he'll remember it and chew on it as much as he needs to. That's all Neil can hope for.

"Hi," Andrew whispers back, during a lull in the on screen violence, and Neil scoots as close to him as he can. He doesn't want to miss a single syllable, a breath.

Without much else to say, Neil lets the giddiness from before rise up, finally speaking on it. His smile is too much to smother, but he tries and fails. "We're in the hall of fame together."

In an instant Andrew's smile falls, but it's an obvious show. And he calls Neil dramatic; it's a shared behavior. Neil laughs uncontrollably from it, from the way Andrew shakes his head up at the roof of the car.

"Junkie," he mumbles, because there's not much more to explain.

Or so Andrew thinks. Really it's less about Exy in that moment for Neil. The part that makes him so overjoyed, that pushes him over the edge into bliss...

"I'm proud of you," Neil manages through the laughter, and repeats himself with a few reallys thrown in for good measure. But still, Andrew doesn't get it. Or he does, and he's being a shit on purpose.

"Tonight was about you, you know," the blond tries, tone suffering, but the itch of a smile threatens his blank facade again, and Neil's main job is to poke and prod it out of hiding. It's a fun game, no longer difficult. Not that he ever minded, not that he could mind anything about what makes Andrew...Andrew.

Neil looks up at the ceiling too, as if he can see through it, like he can see far beyond their universe and beyond the cosmos. They're so insignificant, he knows, but funny how these moments never feel swallowed up by the weight of it all. One day though, he supposes they'll fade into that nothingness, and that's why it's such a comfort to him, to know their names will be next to each other in some way beyond gravestones. "I know, but I just like to remind you. Everyone is going to remember you now."

Andrew is one person he doesn't want to ever be forgotten, for how he makes Neil feel...it would be criminal for that to even be a possibility. Neil huffs a laugh; Andrew's more the type to wax poetic, to say sappy bullshit and then try to act like he hasn't. But here Neil is, heart singing.

There will never be a way to leave that feeling behind as evidence, so everyone who ever doubted Andrew will know, but Neil can wish...Neil can dream. He can do whatever he wants.

Andrew tilts his head, his free hand casting itself forward, gesturing to the world beyond the screen, beyond the ends of the planet. "There’s no point in being remembered like that. When we’re gone, we’ll just be gone."

And in some ways, Neil agrees, or at least understands. Legacies only mean so much, can only withstand so much time. There will be other sports heroes, new rookies and players with their own accomplishments, their own time in the spotlight. But that's not what Neil means, not what he believes in. His fame is meaningless, it will wither and die. So will Andrew's. But...but, he's not afraid now to have that spark of want, the need to preserve as much as possible.

Though if he's being honest, and he won't tell Andrew because he's sure to refute it, there will never be as good a goalie. Neil knows that.

Neil grins gently, squeezing Andrew's hand to call his attention back to where it belongs. Andrew listens, always bends for Neil in some way. Andrew extends his free hand across his lap, and in sync, Neil lifts his leg to drape it across the console. Andrew catches his ankle gently, thumb resting in the dip of bone. Neil shivers; he's been treated with such care for years, but it's never easy to fathom all the way. Andrew's hands are weapons, and yet he cradles Neil like glass, like he's not the tainted mess he is under these clothes.

"Normally I would agree, but you’re kind of my loophole," Neil whispers, shrugging in that infuriating way, the one that communicates clearly that nothing Andrew says can convince him otherwise.

Andrew is familiar with it, and is no longer dead set on fighting Neil every step of the way.

"You're ridiculous," the blond says instead, tracing through Neil's jeans, over the memorized lines and scars of his calves. Neil wonders if he likes to do that especially in these moments, to remember Neil is real. He's not going anywhere. "I don't ever know what to do with you."

"Kiss me? That might help," Neil offers, and in the next moment Andrew is meeting him halfway over the console. Neil wasn't even aware he'd shifted so close, but then he's surrounded by just Andrew. There's a hand in his hair, tangling the curls, and his mouth opens for Andrew's like a switch has been pulled. It's automatic, a craving satisfied. Over the years, Andrew's kisses became predictable, the taste of him no longer surprising or laced with desperation. Despite all that, Neil thinks they're even better now.

It's an exhilarating feeling, to know someone so, so well, down to the press of his tongue and the slot of his lips.

Neil sighs when Andrew pulls away, breath hot and eyes lidded, and alright, maybe they're not completely predictable. Neil is always taken aback by how quick his body is reduced to jello, barely keeping himself upright.

It makes him brainless, makes him ramble, so it slips out again. "I want everyone to remember you," Neil breathes into Andrew's mouth, chasing him as he pulls back. Andrew's hand on his chest stops him, Andrew's stare as intense as ever.

It's quiet; Neil has no idea what's going on around him, either with the movie or the crowd. That's unheard of for him, isn't it? But he's not scared, or nervous. Eventually the instinct will come back, the urge to check the locked doors and look behind the car for things lurking in the shadows. But right them, it's just the two of them, wrapped up.

Andrew tugs on his leg, pulling Neil forward until his thighs hit the console, and looks disappointed they can't be glued at the hip. It's cute, but Neil bites his tongue on the comment. Andrew must sense it, because his eyes flash back up to Neil's face, reaching up to cradle it. Neil can predict that trajectory too, the way Andrew's fingers brush the burn marks.

"Idiot," Andrew says. "Only you get to remember me like this."

Damn you, Andrew.

The edges of Andrew's lips quirk up, triumphant in the face of Neil's stunned silence, but Neil refuses to admit he's won. Only...partially.

Neil will hold these moments for himself, close and free from prying eyes. He'll do that for as long as he can, covet them until he can't keep it in anymore. He supposes that's the best compromise either of them could ask for.

The swell of need in his chest intensifies, and he reaches forward to tug on Andrew's sleeve. It feels so dumb; he's allowed to touch more than this, he's allowed to grab and cradle Andrew's skin. But it's too much in the moment, and he tugs again, like he's right back in college.

"Home?" he whispers, unsure. Andrew looks around them, back at the screen and then at the moon hanging high in the sky. Technically, this is a double feature, and it feels almost wrong to pop this bubble around them. Neil's not sure he wants the moment to end either, not even when the credits for the first movie roll and early birds start to peel out of the lot. Headlights ghost over them, but the only move Andrew makes is to lean down and lower his seat all the way.

Neil, smiles, and knows exactly what to do.

They reach a silent agreement as Neil hops into Andrew's seat, fitting snugly against him as the new movie opens up:

No. Not yet.

Neil notes with amusement how the reporters sit, slightly more relaxed, like they're not quite ready to let go of their professional personas in favor of pulling their legs up. Soon enough, they'll get there. Neil's barely begun to scratch the surface, and he hopes their matching looks of disbelief will fade too.

Neil puts down his water, throat already aching, but if that's the price he has to pay so be it. He's been feeling extra lethargic today, underwater and tied at the ankles, but it's not enough to dissuade him. Rubbing his throat, he smiles. "We ended up really sore from sitting like that all night, but we didn't regret it," he says. The purr of the Lotus is so loud in his mind he almost expects for someone to roll up to the building in one.

Andrew had driven them extra careful that night.

Blake jots something down in his notepad, skims it, then crosses out something else. A question he no longer needs answered, perhaps. When he looks up, Neil is waiting. "That's where you went? You got a lot of flack for that disappearance."

Oh he did, lots of speculations; a feud with Kevin Day, a PR war, a statement about the sports climate.

Really, he'd just wanted some snuggles.

"I've caused worse scandals," Neil says, brushing it off. Compared to all the other segments he's had in the tabloids and news media over the years, including the reveal of his bloody family business, the hall of fame incident is far from important.

And honestly, Neil doesn't care about any of that. Rayah seems to sense that the sports talk won't get them anywhere, and she offers him a laugh. "Andrew wasn't very social, was he?"

Ah, good. They're learning.

Neil's demeanor changes, happily steered in the direction of Andrew, and he leans back. An understatement.

"Neither of us were," he replies, examining his nail beds. That's not entirely it though, and he knew it then too. He's not sure why he never called Andrew out on it, maybe because it was so obvious he didn't need to. "But...I think in that case he was just trying to protect me. I was tired from all the preparations all week. Even when I was young, Andrew wasn’t really keen on letting me stretch myself to my limits."

In fact, after his freshman year of college, no threats in sight, Andrew's protectiveness was even more apparent. Neil endangering himself was a thing of the past, and Andrew made sure to keep it that way. After Baltimore, Andrew simply wouldn't tolerate it. He was aware of Neil's exhaustion, his fatigue, and while he never babied Neil, he wouldn't stop himself from intervening when he could sense Neil would not.

The stress of the hall of fame ceremony sapped Neil clean of any energy, that final speech pushed him to the edge. So Andrew took his hand, and pulled him away from it.

The two reporters share a look then, and Neil gets that surge of annoyance. Andrew would tell him to calm down, that it doesn't matter, but well...

Andrew isn't here, and Neil can be as angry as he wants when people misinterpret their relationship.

After a while, Rayah clears her throat, cutting the tension. At least she has the decency to treat him with the same respect he's giving them and not lie. Neil was never one for politeness. "I'll be honest, it’s hard to imagine someone like Andrew Minyard being that way. He sounds so gentle when you talk about him."

Though the insinuation was clear: to everyone else, he was the exact opposite.

"He had a lot of sides to him," Neil responds, because it's better than the petty response of well he was. He supposes that's not fair, not to them and not to Andrew. He plays with the watch on his wrist, now a little dated and not nearly as shiny. He's pretty sure the time is off now, so he's still the rabbit, running late.

"He could be so caring, but he never gave up his firmness, or his no bullshit nature. Believe me, if he didn't agree with me, he would've let me know. He had a way of snapping me out of bad decisions...not always kindly," Neil says, still grinning.

"You sound like you didn't mind," Blake says, though the confusion is still clear.

Neil had been deceived and led astray so much in his life, forced to swallow lies and spit them back out. Being with Andrew was so freeing; he never had to worry about those things ever again.

"No, I...I loved that about him," he says quietly. He's having a bad time with words, nothing new there. It's hard to make it sensical without having experienced the relationship first hand. He wishes Dan were here, she's able to convince people of anything. Still, he pushes, he needs to explain this if nothing else. "No one ever bothered to see Andrew beyond the hard exterior. Like you said...you can't see Andrew as gentle. Well, he was seldom anything but around me as we got older. I trusted him not to lie to me, and to take care of me, and I did the same in return."

He realizes his voice is taking on a desperate quality, but he can't help it. He could fill books with anecdotes, times where Andrew held him close or was just an absolute pillar of comfort. Try as he might today, he knows he'll never say enough.

People will still remember Andrew primarily as an unfeeling ghost, as the person who punched other players or was quick to anger, though that was far from the truth. Unless Neil makes his case here, that'll never go away.

"It's not that either of you ever provided proof," Blake says, and flinches at Neil's glare. It's a fiery thing, he hasn't used it in a while, but he assumes it's still just as acidic from how guilty the reporter looks. He stutters, and backtracks as best he can. "And based on what you said, I totally get why! It's just—"

Rayah, who is far better at making a case for the public's idiocy, is quick to lean forward. "There were only a few moments people ever saw him act like he cared as much as you say," she tells him, and it's followed by a wince. "One of them...wasn't exactly happy."

Oh.

In an instant, Neil knows exactly what they mean. It was all over the place, wasn't it?

He almost forgets that; he was too busy drowning in his own terror. It was over forty years ago and yet the memory is so strong, the same pain shoots up Neil's legs. The nausea is faint, a reminder of how unbearable and sleepless the following few nights were. He remembers a sickening crack and the shout of people, the flash of cameras.

And Andrew.

Always Andrew, running towards him.

Yes, he supposes it's hard to challenge that moment between them, to categorize Andrew's actions as anything other than fierce protectiveness and worry. Yet when Neil thinks of that incident...what the public saw barely scratched the surface.

He can still feel Andrew's hands digging into his shoulders, can hear the slow footsteps walking into their home...

The room is quiet for a beat too long, and Rayah and Blake exchange a look. It's Blake that eventually clears his throat, and Neil regards him slowly, trying to shake off the beast of a memory.

It's over, it passed. But...it was important, so...

"Are we allowed to ask about that day?" Blake asks, voice small and gauging Neil's reaction.

He sighs; he can't exactly avoid it. There's lots more stories to tell after the fact that won't feel the same without the context, but there will be some conditions.

Neil nods once, tightly. He spreads it out in his head, and an old beat of paranoia surges up in him. Stupid. He's not that dangerous anymore, no one is watching him, no one is looking for him. But it has him looking at the door anyways, wondering if the room is bugged or lined with cameras he can't see. Well, he'll just be careful.

He flattens his hands across the blanket, chewing on his words. "I suppose it would be a disservice to what I'm trying to do if I didn't talk about it," Neil answers, gesturing to Rayah. "Go ahead."

Neil braces himself before taking the plunge, and gets lost in his past once again.

"The day you were injured, what was it like?"

#andreil #aftg #all for the game #andrew minyard #neil josten

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theawkwardterrier · 5 years

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things left behind and the things that are ahead, ch. 19

AO3 link here

He wakes up alone that morning. The note that Peggy’s stuck to the bathroom mirror reminds him that she’ll bring Emma and Drea with her after work. (They’d already discussed this together last night, dreamy and worn out as they curled beside each other, but she might have thought him too close to sleep to have remembered.) Perhaps Eric too, she’s written, a hastily added postscript even though it’s above the signature. Emma had mentioned that they were back together, and no matter how much Peggy had been encouraged by their breakup after high school graduation, Steve has the feeling that it will stick this time. It’s fine with him; Eric is a nice person, and Steve doesn’t doubt that Emma will live her life and find success whether they’re together or not. Staying with her high school sweetheart won’t limit that.

He doesn’t technically have work himself - he'd been called in on Saturday, and was taken off the schedule for today in exchange despite his protestations - but if he slides into the office around 10, Bella will be shut up doing budgeting and he can tuck himself away without being noticed. He needs the distraction.

Nate’s already down in the kitchen when he gets there, although he’d finished with school yesterday and doesn’t really need to be up either. He’s hunched over a book at the table but glances up when Steve enters.

“Food on the stove,” he says, removing the fork he has stuck absently in his mouth. The plate already on the table in front of him has the remnants of his own portion of scrambled eggs, along with traces of the strawberry jam he likes to mix in with them. It’s a good thing Emma isn’t here yet: she thinks it’s a sin.

Steve brushes a kiss to his head on the way past. “Thanks,” he says, going to fill a plate. They’re all used to Steve’s metabolism: Nate left probably eight eggs worth in the pan despite his own teenaged appetite. He sits down across from his son, whose nose is back in his book, another one of the science fiction novels he loves. Nate isn’t a fast reader - he spends a lot of time thinking about what he’s reading, taking in the words, their implications, what it all means - but he is steady and voracious. His bookshelves upstairs are lined with carefully cracked paperback spines, slotted in one at a time as he finishes them.

“What are you up to today?” Steve asks.

Nate finishes his page and looks up, blinking, though more from leaving another world than from the bright sunlight filling the kitchen. “There was a problem at the printer and they didn’t get the yearbooks done in time to sign them in school, so we’re all going to Nancy Taylor’s house to do it there instead. Then we have graduation ceremony rehearsal at the school anyway, so we’ll probably go over there all together.”

“Sounds good.” Steve focuses on forking up more eggs. Of all of his children, Nate would probably best accept his tearing up over the thought of these kids spending one last assured day together before they all go their separate ways, but it’s a little early for him to start falling apart.

The work distraction is actually fairly successful. With Mary Alice’s retirement, his caseload has increased, and he manages to lose himself in files and phone calls for most of the day. He doesn’t even notice that he’s worked through lunch until Bella, finished wrangling the budget for now and in a mood from the effort, tells him loudly that even if he is going to ignore both her instructions and official regulations, he isn’t going to starve while he does it. He gives a token protest, but ends up biting ravenously through a couple of sandwiches as he stops at red lights on the way across town for a home visit he’d been able to hastily set up.

It’s actually easy to check his personal life at the door when he’s talking to families, to the kids he works with. His feelings can matter later; it’s the job that he needs to focus on now.

He’s surprised when he returns to the car and finds that it’s 4 PM. By the time he has gone back home, changed clothes, and driven over to the school, it’s about forty-five minutes to the start of the ceremony. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he sets off across the grass of the sports field where they have set up a small stage and seating all around. Back when Rose and Drea had graduated, the school had chosen to use the auditorium, but Steve guesses that the weather today was too fine to resist. The temperature has dropped from its peak of several hours ago, and a breeze brushes through his hair.

He stakes out seats, making sure to get an extra for Eric just in case. He sees some people he recognizes: parents and siblings who he’s run into around town or at past school functions for Nate and the girls, Nate’s old English teacher Mrs. Krentz, who comes over to gush praise again even though she retired last year. He tries to store away the details of it all to tell Bucky about in their next phone call; Libby will be graduating in just a couple of years. (Buck will probably have another one of his good-natured breakdowns when it happens, starting off with mentioning how young most of the other graduates’ parents are.) Mostly, though, he sits and waits.

Drea finds him first. There’s a looseness to her spine, a grin on her face, as she walks across the grass, says, “Hi, Dad!” and wraps her arms around him. Though she likes school and he can see the little smile that lives at the corners of her mouth even when she is simply telling people where she’s at college, there’s a feeling each time they drive up to Cambridge that she is constructing defenses, restructuring herself in some way. All of that is gone today. She’s wearing a belted denim dress - she never went in for Emma’s long florals, or the sorts of busy patterns and fire-bright colors that Rose prefers - and she’s gotten her hair cut since he last saw her. It’s just a couple of inches, but he smoothes a hand over it as they embrace.

“It’s good to see you,” he says quietly. “I know Nate’s looking forward to it.” The day Nate had called with the date of the graduation, Drea had circled it on her calendar while he was still on the phone (“In red, Nate, I promise”) and when they’d hung up, Steve watched him smiling with unconscious excitement. It’s not that he mopes around, whining over being left behind as his sisters have gone off one by one, and it’s not that he loves Emma and Rose less, but it’s still unfamiliar to him, being apart from Drea.

“I guess I could stand to see him,” Drea says, shrugging, but she is smiling too.

Peggy comes up behind Drea as she is pulling away. Emma and Eric are with her, Em’s hand tucked into Eric’s back pocket. Peggy catches Steve’s eye as he takes that in, raising an eyebrow and pulling her mouth just barely to the side. Steve covers a grin by dipping to kiss her cheek.

“Lovely group of seats,” she says innocuously as Steve turns to greet the other two.

They all settle in beside each other. Peggy always likes the aisle seat - quick egress - and Drea slides in after her, Emma and Eric next, and Steve bracketing the other end. Emma talks about her summer courses. Drea tells stories about Tony’s antics, the mischief he’d gotten into as he tried to prevent her from leaving even for just a few days; she’s obviously charmed by that in a way that Steve isn’t sure he would be.

The seats fill up around them, chattering relatives and friends, staff members. It is almost time.

The crickets are starting to chirp, but Pomp and Circumstance drowns them out, the high schoolers in the band clearly putting their all into it. The graduates enter in twos, each member of the pairs representing one of the school colors. Nate walks with Jillian Lee. Nate went out with Jilly on a couple of occasions, but not much came of it as far as Steve knows. She is standing very straight and walking steadily, wearing a respectable green cap and gown. Nate is stuck in the version that’s meant to be the corresponding gold but looks instead like unfortunate mustard. The robe doesn’t even fit him right, slightly too short above the ankle and draping loosely over his bony shoulders, but he manages to pull it off just through his own lack of perturbation over those facts.

As the last of the graduates file into their seats and the band silences their instruments, Drea intones quietly, “Guests, faculty, scholars,” anticipating Principal Connor’s traditional, pompous opening. After a bit of microphone feedback, he echoes her precisely, and Steve, smiling and shaking his head, angles himself to begin translating the words for Emma and Eric. Em places a hand on his after only three sentences.

“This speech - I think I can quote all of it now.”

Steve looks up at the stage. Principal Connor raises a finger in the air to emphasize a phrase. “That’s new,” Steve points out. Em rolls her eyes.

“Only one more time,” she says, hands weighty and mouth parted to emphasize the exhaustion of it all.

“Only one more time,” Steve repeats, the words coming slow and numbed on his fingers. He feels a little stricken and barely manages a smile for her.

The valedictorian and salutatorian speak one after the other. It’s obvious that they, at least, have written new speeches of their own: the words of triumph and hope, of lessons learned and more to come, might be cliche, but they are still somehow new. Even if he’s heard nearly the same sentiments at the girls’ graduations, for these kids, they are only just discovered.

When it is Nate’s turn to walk across the stage, he does it with a firm step and his family cheering loudly from the crowd. Steve, applauding hard, can’t even tell if he can pick them out in the audience, but he watches Nate raise his diploma in the air with a smile on his face and is certain that it’s meant for them. It is that same smile Steve knows so well, that peaceful, open-armed upturn of the mouth that Nate has displayed since childhood. Sometimes Steve thinks that Nate was born smiling like that, that this was the way he greeted the world on his first moment in it. He’ll never know if he’s right - that first smile belonged to someone else - but he has a lifetime of Nate’s smiles saved up and that’s something that not many people have.

As Melvin Casper is called next and they all sit back down, he and Peggy catch eyes, even down the row from one another. Despite the smile he gives her, she tilts her head, closes her eyes in an understanding blink which she holds for a beat longer than usual. I know, it seems to say, but also, How lucky have we been?

There’s a bit of a debate regarding the pictures. Nate fights his way through the crowd to find them with Emma and Peggy in the middle of a standoff over whether Eric should be included in the family photos and Steve and Drea are trying to make polite, distracting smalltalk with the man in question.

“Eric can take four, five,” Nate compromises calmly, “and then we’ll find someone to take some with him.” He searches around for a moment, then raises his voice. “Ricky! Hey, Rick, come over here for a minute.”

Ricky Blake, cap in hand, has been standing nearby, taking his own turn to greet Mrs. Krentz. He glances over at the Carters, at Nate and his beckoning hand, and excuses himself.

“What’s up?” he asks as he walks over, and Steve notices that he’s lost the awkward sort of meticulousness to the way he does the sign. He does it confidently now, casually, even if he doesn’t quite have the accompanying mouth movement down.

Eric actually has a good, artistic eye and arranges them all so that Nate is the center of the photos without throwing his shadow onto the rest of them.

When they’re finished, Steve goes to reclaim the camera.

“How are you, Ricky?” He puts out a hand to shake. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Mr. C.” A grin spreads across Ricky’s face as he grasps Steve’s hand enthusiastically. Even when Steve first met him, he was slightly bigger than average for a kid his age. Now Steve looks firmly up at him; he’s probably six and a half feet tall, and solid across. His graduation gown, unzipped in front by this point, has clearly been altered to fit him. He looks around. "Rose couldn't come?" He's always had a bit of a fascination with Rosie.

"No, she wasn't able to take the time off of work. She'll call tonight."

"Too bad."

“Did you decide on your plans for next year?” Steve asks. The last time they spoke, a few months ago, Ricky was still considering whether he wanted to end up at GW like Nate. He’d laid out the entire pro-con list while leaning against the counter watching Steve make carrot cake and waiting for Nate to finish getting ready for the concert they were going to.

“I’ll be staying in state,” Ricky replies, and though Steve is watching closely, his smile does not slip, the light in his eyes does not dim. “Maryland has a better education program anyway, for undergraduates at least.”

Steve can feel his eyebrows jump up. “Education?”

“Yeah.” Ricky glances back over his shoulder. “I was just telling Mrs. Krentz. I want to be an English teacher.”

“You’re going to be great at it,” Steve says with confidence. He doesn’t bother asking how Earl Blake took this news.

“Thanks, Mr. C.” Ricky looks down at the ground and then back up. He fiddles with the tassel on the cap he is still holding. He clears his throat. “I just—I wanted to tell you how much you helped me. You’re a good listener, and—um, it was important to me, to watch you with your kids or talking about your work. So, thank you. I just wanted you to know.”

For a moment, Steve can't say anything. Finally, he manages to speak. "I don't think I did much," he says with soft feeling, "but if I did, it was my pleasure."

There's always a bit of a wrench watching Ricky go back to rejoin his family. He's taller even than his father now, but there's still a little stiffening to Ricky's shoulders when they are near each other. Tim, still only just gaining some height of his own, shifts to stand beside his brother.

He thinks about how everyone still calls him Ricky, a child's name. He could have grown up into a Rich or a Richard by now, but he hasn’t. Perhaps he will never make the change. Or perhaps it just isn’t time yet: how easy it is to see Ricky and Nate and all the others on this day, at the top of a climb, and to think that it is all over. Maybe he should try to remember that it is only just beginning.

Peggy is leaning against his chest, his arm around her, before he even fully registers her there.

"We've done well, haven't we," she says, looking over at the children with pride, and he nods against her and kisses her hair.

"More to come?" he asks, a little waver in his voice, and she looks up at him, surprised.

"Of course," she says, taking his hand. "Always."

The custodial staff is beginning to come in to fold up the chairs. It is time to go.

"I want to finish telling Mom something," Drea says as they head over to the parking lot. "I'll ride with her."

Emma has her bag in Peggy's car, so she and Eric decide to join them as well. Steve squeezes Peggy's hand, still in his. She looks up at him fondly. Em's as stubborn as she is, and clearly trying out her version of exposure therapy. It's a good thing that Eric's a good sport.

"What about the man of the hour?" Peggy asks, looking over at their son. "Are you certain you don't want a nice dinner out?"

"I told you what I wanted," Nate says. Steve has the lasagna already prepared to go into the oven as soon as they get home. Every restaurant in town will be crowded tonight anyway, but that's not the reason Nate chose it. "And I'll ride over with Dad."

Peggy's parked farther in. She parts from Steve with one last squeeze of the hand and a "See you in a moment." Nate and Steve walk over to Steve's car together.

"How are you feeling?" Steve asks.

Nate takes in a deep breath of the night air. "Really good. Proud. Excited. Tired, a little, too." He looks over at his father. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. Proud of you." Steve repeats. "A little sad that this part of things is over."

"Sure," Nate says easily. "But there are other parts. And I want you there for all of those. We all do."

Steve looks over at him. “You ready for what comes next?” he asks.

Nate stretches his hands up toward the slowly darkening sky, fingers spread on one, diploma still held tightly in the other. “Course I am,” he says. The departing crowd is loud, all shouts and laughter and car engines, Nate’s voice quiet even in its surety, but Steve hears it anyway. He would hear it anywhere.

He looks at his youngest, taller than he is now by a half inch, maybe a bit more. It’s clear that Drea and Nate have height in their genes. His slim build, the lankiness of his limbs, just makes him look even taller, but he’s never seemed awkward with it. Nate always just puts one foot in front of the other, attentive about it but confident too, trusting that he’s placed himself on solid ground.

“Course you are,” he agrees. Under the beginnings of the slimming moon, he puts an arm around his son’s shoulders, pulls him close, and holds tight.

More chapters here

#Steggy #Steggy fic #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #things left behind fic

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snowbellewells · 5 years

Text

“A Long Forgotten Song”

(A CS family fluff fic for @whimsicallyenchantedrose‘s belated birthday gift!)

by: @snowbellewells

This little fic was meant to be for Jennifer (@whimsicallyenchantedrose‘s) birthday, but that was more than a week ago now. I’m hoping this bit of fluff and CS family feels will still be an enjoyable gift for her in appreciation for her friendship, writing encouragement, and just being a helpful, amazing, gifted and kind member of the fandom. This isn’t necessarily divergent from canon, but it’s certainly future headcanon, in which Hope is five or six and I have imagined Killian and Emma might have adopted a child as well. (That doesn’t really come into the fic, I just think they would adopt with their histories, and Killian is mentioned as being a father of three at one point. )

Before it gets any more belated….

“A Long Forgotten Song”

It had been a rather long day at the station - somewhat tedious and dreary - and so Killian Jones had been more than happy to volunteer for picking up their daughter from her voice lessons at five-thirty and escaping the mundane parade of dwarves accusing one another of some brazen act of malfeasance, complaints about leaky cellars and roofs due to the recent spate of rainy days, and the pleas to go out on search patrol for missing house pets possibly lost in the downpour. Certainly he would take these common small town grievances over dangerous new villains swooping in and raining down chaos of which his Sheriff wife and fellow deputy father-in-law would heedlessly throw themselves in the way, regardless of the risk to their own lives and limbs. Still, one could only try to decipher Dopey’s flying hand gestures accusing Leroy of once again stealing the extra bacon slice Granny fondly slipped onto his breakfast plate at the diner so many times before having to get out of the office for a breather.

The sky was still a heavy grey full of low-hanging clouds that threatened even more rain as he parked the cruiser at the curb of the pretty blue house with a wide front porch, just down the street from the convent where the nuns - well, the fairies, technically - made their home in Storybrooke. He could already hear Hope’s high, chattering voice as soon as he opened the door, and he shook his head in amusement as her light words prattled along, hardly pausing for breath, added to only occasionally by a calmer, more sedate, adult chuckle at the proper moments in his little girl’s story.

Glancing up the walk, Killian could see his daughter and her music teacher both seated on the woman’s large, cushioned front porch swing, Hope’s tiny powder-keg of a form bouncing in excitement as she continued her narrative, and her ever-patient instructor nodding along with fittingly wide eyes as if she had never heard a more gripping tale in her life. Of course, once he had stepped out of the car, the sound of its door closing caused Hope’s head of riotously curling dark hair to whip around at the noise and a squeal to leave her upon catching sight of him.

“Papa!” she called, leaping to her feet and up from the swing as if she thought she could fly - startling both his and her teacher’s hearts into their throats until she landed safely on the porch floorboards. Running down the steps to grip him around the knees, Hope then took his hook in both of her little hands and tugged him back the way she had come, still exclaiming, “Wait until you hear what I learned today! It’s so pretty!! And Ms. D. says a pirate lady might have sung it on her ship during watch late at night.”

Killian Jones couldn’t help the raised, curious eyebrow and smirk he shot toward the other adult on the porch at her proclamation, anymore than he could staunch the swell of emotion that nearly overcame him every single time his daughter grasped his metal appendage as easily and as simply as if it were a hand of flesh and bone, not troubled in the least by its presence, or the surge of pride he somehow felt - as retired as he might be - at Hope’s constant interest in pirates and the sea. To his chagrin, and Emma’s perpetual amusement, Hope was more than a bit piratical in her bearing and the mischief she could concoct as well, so the very suggestion that the song she had learned in her day’s lesson might have been sung at sea had surely made her a quite willing pupil. “Is that so, Love?” he asked mildly, holding back his mirth in the hope of avoiding the sort of stubborn temper one could flare in her if not careful.

“Sorry if I’m a bit late,” he added for her teacher’s benefit. Jennifer was her name, though Killian did not feel quite familiar enough to address her that informally, though he knew Emma often did. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

He rarely used most of his former flirtatious feminine nicknames with women about town either, not once he and Emma had been married and since he had become a father of three. Not that he felt there had been anything wrong with such playful appellations, and he still pulled out the fanciful “Milady Snow” for Emma’s mother and occasionally flushed Granny’s cheeks with a pleased blush upon calling her “Lass” as if she were twenty years old once more. But it had only taken catching the tense, worried look of fear on Emma’s face (which she tried to deny when he asked) one time to make plying his charms with anyone other than his wife lose all appeal. It had appeared as if she still thought someone could actually beguile him or lure him away from her, and he could only shake his head in stunned disbelief at the very idea. So when Aurora smiled at him thankfully as he caught her runaway second son at the T-ball diamond, or when Tink giggled merrily and laid her hand on his forearm while he joked with her at the market, Killian was friendly and kind, but also quick to gently disentangle himself as clearly as possible without any of his old quips to play up the moment.

Jennifer smiled back at him, her expression open and genuine, with an indulgent sparkle in her eyes as they flicked back to Hope beside him. “Of course not. It just seemed like such a lovely evening. Hope and I thought we’d come outside to wait until you arrived.”

Killian figured that was quite probably mostly Hope’s idea. His little buccaneer would never willingly stay indoors if given the choice, and her teacher was plainly just one more friend and neighbor who could not withstand her natural charm.

“Papa, come on!” Hope urged impatiently, practically wriggling at his side. “Don’t you want to hear the song we learned? It’s a sea shanty.”

“Aye, little love, of course I do,” he nodded, ceasing his conversation and wandering thought and turning full attention back to her.

Nodding sagely, as if she would have expected nothing else from her doting papa, Hope’s tiny fingers, still wrapped around his shining metal appendage pulled him behind her as Ms. D. led them back into her foyer and through to the sunroom where she kept her piano. Hope proudly led him to the settee on one wall, under a large window, urging him to sit where he could enjoy her performance; her teacher all the while merely watching with a gentle smile on her face.

When Jennifer saw that the Captain was settled and ready for them to begin, she seated herself at the piano, much as she had been during Hope’s vocal lesson earlier, and the child came to stand practically at her elbow, beaming and nodding that she was indeed ready when asked. Her teacher held in a chuckle at her pupil’s enthusiasm, the Jones’ daughter puffing her little chest out with pride at having something new to show her father, and her bright green eyes sparkling with joy and excitement. Turning to place her hands on the keys, she gave Hope a count to prepare her, and then launched into the first notes of the piece they had been practicing that afternoon.

As often happened, especially when she had a willing compatriot to get swept along with her, Jennifer lost herself in the words and the notes, letting the tune she had found for Hope’s newest song carry her along on its soothing melody. So carried away they both were in fact, that she didn’t really come back to herself until she played the last note, Hope stopped singing, and they both looked over to find their former pirate audience with misty eyes, shaking himself as if from a dream, before quickly straightening up and slapping his hand on his thigh in applauding approval. “That was beautiful, ladies! Truly quite magnificent!” Killian Jones praised sincerely.

She wasn’t going to call him on the fact that his voice sounded hoarse with some unspoken and hastily covered emotion. His daughter, however, showed no such restraint. Rushing forward, Hope threw herself into his lap, her arms wrapping around her father’s neck and squeezing until he unwound them slightly to breathe properly again. “Oh no, Papa, what’s wrong? Didn’t you like it? Ms. D. looked up a special song just for me. We thought it was really pretty.”

Killian Jones seemed to master himself, and whatever melancholy had gripped him momentarily was gone from his face as he shook his head, quickly moving to reassure his child. He also seemed to be shooting an apologetic look Jennifer’s way over Hope’s curls, though she was hardly offended (if admittedly a bit curious). “No, no, I liked it very much….it’s...nothing like that.” His voice trailed off for a moment as he gathered Hope more securely on his knee. “I just… that melody...I hadn’t heard it for many years. It seemed to be coming out of a dream when you started it. My mother used to sing that to me…. A long time ago….”

Now, Jennifer knew enough of the reformed Captain Hook’s story to know just how long ago that truly might have been, but she wasn’t going to pry, and she wasn’t going to confuse a six-year-old if all of that realm-hopping, time-stands-still in Neverland confusion hadn’t been explained to Hope. She knew for herself the power of a song to take a person back to another place in time. While that power was a gift, it could bring bittersweet memories as well as purely happy ones.

Gentleman to the core though, Killian Jones seemed determined to see that they both knew he found their performance lovely. “Thank you, both of you. I would not have thought to ever hear that chorus again. It was captivating.”

Jennifer merely nodded, letting him know he was more than welcome. Hope, looking relieved, merely hugged her papa tightly, then slid down to the floor, her fleeting attention no longer content to be still. “Yes, thank you Ms. D! See you next week!” And then she was skipping back out of the room to the door.

Captain Jones remained just a moment longer, his voice quiet, still a bit awesd and touched as he added, “Thank you, Milady...truly. It was wonderful to hear my mother’s lullaby again.” With a little bow to her, he followed his daughter down the porch steps and back to the car, leaving Jennifer infinitely glad she she had picked that particular song of the many that she had uncovered in her research. She would have never expected Hope’s father to listen to it as if they had been giving him the best treasure ever unearthed in his long and storied career.

~ Notes: I was going to include lyrics to a sea shanty (I looked up several) for Hope to be singing, but I decided to leave that open to interpretation. The one I was leaning toward, with lyrics like: “Yo! Ho, how we go!

Oh how the winds blow!

White Wings, they never grow weary

Night comes I long for my dearie

I’ll spread out my white wings

And sail home to thee…” ended up being too fast paced to sound like a lullaby once I looked up a recording of it. I considered some others, “Endearing Young Charms”, “Cliffs of Doneen”, and others (Including “She Moved Through the Fair”), but in the end I liked them all and couldn’t really settle on one for sure. If you know of an Irish sea shanty you particularly like, just pretend it’s that one Hope’s singing! :)

#cs one shot #cs family fluff #birthday ff #ouat au #belated bday for @whimsicallyenchantedrose

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yo-la-gusanito · 5 years

Text

forever and ever part 1 (thomas Jefferson x reader)

terrible translation into English

You accompany your brother-in-law Alexander Hamilton to a cabinet battle, because your sisters Angelica and Eliza were pregnant and Peggy had gone to London with her fiance.

"Come on T / n, I can not allow the Virginian to win this battle," Alexander says as he opens the door to a large room.

"Yes ..." you answer while you look at all the places until you meet the very president of America "oh Mr. Washington, it's a pleasure to see you after a long time" you bow.

"Oh Miss Schuyler, how long is it going on," replies Mr Washington.

"It's all beautiful my sisters were right about this, it's so beautiful," you reply.

"Yes, everything is beautiful ... but where is that idiot Thomas ..." is silent to see the face of Washington and a person who can not get to see "I did not say anything"

You turn to see who is behind Washington, to find someone with dark skin and abundant hair only that you look away to Alexander which is fuming.

"Fence, fence ... look what brought the Caribbean ..." replied the man "oh and comes with a company"

You turn to see more of serca the gentleman "oh sorry for my modale, I am T / n Schuyler" you do a reverence "it's a pleasure to meet you sir ..." you wait for me to answer you.

"Jefferson, I'm Thomas Jefferson and the pleasure is all mine Miss Schuyler" he stretches out his hand for you to hold and place a kiss.

But on the other side is Alexander, worse than ever, knowing that his young sister-in-law is in the hands of the most ruthless of the world for him, and next to this was George Washington putting his hand on this "do not follow me that they are. .. "Start Alexander.

"Do not ruin anything," warns Washington.

They look like you and the Virginian are talking and capturing every praise he makes you because your cheeks are blushed, but after a moment they come back and see how Thomas' eyes darken because of the hatred in them.

"Well Hamilton, let the show begin"

After that they go to the Senate, where you see how each of them defends their positions until death would be able to say.

(...)

You stayed hours watching until Mr. Washington, decides that the winner is Alexander which you feel great pride but pity the Thomas, so when they are about to go you decide to go to talk with Thomas.

"I tell you a lot about your loss," you answer, taking a few steps from Thomas.

He looks at you and gives a slight laugh "do not worry, everything ends when Washington retires" he responds, stopping his hands for his laughs.

"And what do you propose?" Questions.

"As I know you will not tell Hamilton," he replies, looking at Alexander who is behind you talking to Washington.

You put your hand on your chest and pick up the other "I promise I'm not going to say anything"

He looks at you but stretches the little finger "by the little finger"

You release a laugh "for the little finger"

"Well em wue te parese if tomorrow we go somewhere"

"I would love to"

After that your brother-in-law arrives interrupting the conversation with Thomas and back home he makes you a sermon about how dangerous it is to be with him, only that you simply nod, and when they arrive at your house you go running to your room to decide what clothes You are going to use tomorrow.

You stay a while thinking until your older sister Eliza arrives.

"Sister, why are you so hesitant in your wardrobe?" She asks as she goes to sit on your bed with a slight laugh "you make me remember when I was starting to go out with Alexander ... wait for you?"

You look at your sister and you nod.

"It's about time who is the lucky one" I design rising from the seat but then goes back to bed again due to the pregnancy.

"It is coincidentally the enemy of your husband" you dises while taking a slight nervous laugh.

"Jefferson, Thomas Jefferson?" He asks quietly.

You nod your head expecting the worst.

"Well if he makes you happy then ... I'm happy too, here's your happiness, not mine" responds parandoce and hugging "and if you ask me I like how you have the pastel pink dress"

You release a laugh to later save all the dresses except the one your sister said and then accompany her to the kitchen and help the servants to set the table.

(...)

The day arrived and Thomas had arrived punctually as he promised, after a greeting they went to a restaurant to spend the afternoon where they talked about all kinds of topics.

"So France is currently in the process of revolution?" Questions taking a bit of tea.

"Yes" he raises his head to avoid showing sadness "only that I have a friend who is currently imprisoned" he responds and then look into his eyes.

"Are you talking about Mr. Lafayette?" You ask as you stretch out your hand to touch hers and it intertwines with yours.

"Yes, his wife also only that she is with her children" he responds rubbing his thumb against your knuckles "I tried to talk with Washington about this issue but he said that we are going to keep neutral because we have been free for a short time"

"Soon you will find some solution" you say roseI raise his hands to give him a stronger grip.

"I hope so" he replies to pull his hands towards him and kiss them.

They stay talking for a while until you see that it is very dark and you decide to go back to your home, clearly with Thomas accompanying you.

When they arrive they knock on the door since you forgot your keys and there you see how your father opens the door.

"Hi, daughter, and ..." he gave Thomas a threatening look.

"Jefferson, Thomas Jefferson sir, it's a pleasure to meet you," he responds a little nervously.

"Well, thank you, Mr. Jefferson, for accompanying my daughter" after that he leaves, leaving them alone and in an uncomfortable silence.

"Well, it was a pleasure to see you ... I hope to see you another time" interrupted him with a kiss on the rack.

"See you later" you answer and then go to the entresda leaving a smiling Thomas and putting his hand where you kissed him.

A WEEK LATER.

You are in the dining room talking with your sisters about how the departure with Thomas is going and that each time you are more affectionate until your father appears, along with Alexander.

"There is a note from Jefferson and it is not addressed to Alexander," your father replies sternly "and it is addressed to Candela.

"T / n, you told my plans to Jefferson!" Alexander jumps a little angrily.

"Alexander," says Eliza "let her talk.

You breathe deeply "Well, first of all I did not mention anything to Thomas and second, I'm talking to him for a week, we met when I went to the cabinet debate with Alexander" put your hand behind your head.

"Well, from what I read, they seem to have been talking ... and he wants to talk to me, and if he wants that he will have it, Hamilton. When you see Jefferson tomorrow, you are going to tell him that I want to talk to him and that come to dinner "after that leave the room and you stay pale for then without saying the fastest stairs.

Arriving at your room, you sit on your bed feeling the tears fall lightly on your face as you go to the drawer where you kept the letters that Thomas gave you and begin to reread until you hear someone knock on the door and keep everything quicker poible.

"T / n" you listen to Angelica talk while she opens the door "you're fine"

"No, I'm scared and if dad does not like me and he does not let me see him anymore," you respond already crying.

"Do not say that but if it happens remember that Peggy and I are escaping and in the same way that you helped us, we will help you" reponde abrazandote.

"Thank you" replied responding to the hug.

(...)

The feared day arrived, down the stairs to meet Thomas talking quietly with Angelica.

"Hello" greetings

While shots are illuminated the eyes "hello linda" reaponde holding your hand to kiss her.

"How did you do all this time?" Questions because he was taking care of his friend James.

"Well, it seems that every time is improving but I could take a free moment" he answers with the same calmness as always.

"Mr. Jefferson, it's a pleasure to see you again, please I want to speak with you along with Mr. Hamilton"

After that they disappear and by magic act your sisters appear.

"Do you know what Jefferson is going to ask Papa not?" Asks Angelica, in a picaro tone.

"No, and it's better that ... they're going to go see it?"

"Sip" Eliza to then climb the stairs with Angelica, while you decided to go to the kitchen to help set the table.

Time later your sisters returned but you refuse to see their faces so you can see the window in front of the beautiful snowy weather.

"We came back" says Alexander, giving Thomas a warning look.

"Well, everyone at the kitchen, let's eat" after that everyone goes to the table.

(...)

"Peggy, T / n would like to touch something for us" his father asks after the sign as he looks at the cello and the piano.

You look at your sister, who looks at you and assents, then goes to the cello and you to the piano.

"What would you like to hear" questions.

"Whatever you want, take pride," replies Eliza, to which with your sister they turn a worried look.

They begin to play trying not to equibocarte and keep the notes well and the same seems to try to make it peggy because you do not hear it hit the instrument with the skin, on the other hand they are all silent listening as they play until they reach the end where everyone looks at them in shock until they start applauding.

"Proud is little, you can tell they learned the best" answers Angelica accounts with you "I think it's time for another song, but this time leave it to me and peggy" after that she takes your place so, you go to one of the armchairs.

"What do you think of some balls?" Eliza asks holding Alexander's hand.

"But love, there are not enough instruments," replies Alexander, laughing.

"That's the least of it" your sisters get to play making Eliza and Alexander dance accompanied by your parents.

"Em T / n would you like to dance" asks Thomas stretchinghand.

"I'd love it" you answer when you grab Thomas' hand and then dance with him.

During the whole dance you find it almost impossible to separate your eyes from him, which Thomas suffers from the same thing that proboca that every time you release a laugh.

Suddenly your sisters stop playing, and decided to go back to do their activities, while Thomas and you go for a walk in the courtyard of the farm.

"Em T / n-" he looks away, trying to hide his little smile.

"Are you okay Thomas?" You approach him and put your hand on his shoulder.

"No, T / n I'm not good" turns his head and looks at you already with his whole face red.

"What happened, this is all you want medicine oh-" you get closer to him.

"I think it sounds stupid but, I think I would feel very bad if I do not do this now" he responds to then put his hand on the sack of his sack and kneels.

"Thomas-" you put your hand in your mouth.

"T / n Schuyler, would you do me the favor of making me the happiest man in the world, agreeing to be my wife for the rest of my life?" He asks, pulling out a red velvet box showing a beautiful colored ring. silver and one day neither very big nor very small.

"Yes, Thomas Jefferson I accept to be your wife for the rest of my life" you lay down in his arms which he hugs you and begins to turn, until he lowers you and you can see some tearful attempts poking through his eyes which are erased by your fingers, the simple smile and then come a little closer to him and kiss you, a short kiss but full of feelings, it hurts that I had to be cut because of the promising cry of your sisters.

(...)

"You say this is the right dress" questions as you turn on your axis to see the whole dress.

"Yes daughter," your mother replies and then grab all your hair "and together with a hairstyle you will be like a queen" let your hair down.

"I can not believe that our little sister is getting married" says Eliza with Philip in her hands, due to the birth of this a few weeks ago.

"Well" you answer, and you turn to your mother and sister "this is the one".

(...)

"Madison, you say this suit is fine?" He asks, leaving his room showing a majestic suit and black details.

"If Thomas, whatever you use she'll like," Madison replies.

"Well, this will be"

(...)

You hear the sound of the birds sing as you go to the entrance of the Church, when you enter the arm of your father, everyone in the place rise, your sisters are ahead as bridesmaids along with the friend of your pledged and future husband James Madison, who puts his hand on the shoulder of Thomas who is already in a great fight to avoid crying.

You approach the altar and your father hugs you.

"Daughter you do not know how happy I am for you" squeezes you a little more in the embrace, then hold your hand and give it to Thomas "Mr. Jefferson, I hope you make my daughter the most false woman in the world"

Thomas grabs your hand "that and much more Mr. Schuyler" then helps you climb with the "you look beautiful" whispers slightly only to be heard only you.

"You do not stay behind, love," you answer.

Then the Cure of the Church begins to live some words and arrive at the moment of the vows, making Madison and Peggy take a step forward delivering the vows.

(...)

"Now I declare you husband and wife, you can kiss the bride"

After the signal takes hold of the sintura and kisses you, a kiss full of love and deceived for a long time, by the first kiss as a husband and wife.

(...)

They're all celebrating the current engagement, and your sister Peggy grabs you by the hand and starts spinning.

"God never believed that this would be possible" you say with a laugh.

"You know I thought the same thing but guess who is being a mother" I designed whispering the latter.

You release a scream and then hug your sister "congratulations my beautiful, this I will tell Thomas" sales addressed to Thomas who is with Mr. Washington and Hamilton "love, I have something to tell you" answer grabbing his arm.

"Well Mrs. Jefferson, I'm all ears" he follows you and you gossip towards Peggy.

#thomas jefferson x reader #thomas Jefferson x lector #thomas jefferson #x reader #hamilton #hamiltime

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thetirisfaltheatretroupe · 6 years

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[Script Archive] The Altruist - A Tale of Kindness Gone Wrong

<< The following is a play that has been performed but not yet retired from the Tirisfal Troupe’s lineup, however, use of it for one’s own production purposes is allowed with proper credit to the Tirisfal Theatre when performing! Please contact us if you plan to use this particular script so that we know, thank you! Trivia will be located at the bottom! >>

SETTING: Lordaeron, circa 400 years ago.

CHARACTERS: Lord Vincent (main character), Lady Helena (Vincen’t wife), Ser Harmun (butler of the manor), Townsperson 1, Townsperson 2, Servant 1, Servant 2, The Stranger (antagonist). Narrator

SUMMARY: A lord known for his acts of kindness and bountiful wealth takes in a man whom he believes to be down on his luck. After taking this man in, he notices strange occurrences around his manor, but denies anything is wrong even when his family and friends confront him about the peculiarities of his new guest.

<ACT 1: Scene opens with narration. The narrator places an Autumn sapling from stealth, placed behind them, as the spotlight is shone. They take a bow, and speak grimly> NARRATOR: When the first frost falls upon any land, the time for generosity and giving is upon us. Mortals, of all creeds and colors, rely on one another to survive, to thrive.

Yet some are more generous than others. Some strangers would give you the very clothes upon their backs to keep you warm.

Look to the one on your left. Are they a loved one? Someone you know? If they are not, would you give them the contents in your wallet, should they be in need?

Most of you would say ‘no’, I wager. To some, this is selfishness. To others, this is practicality. A defense, a desire for one’s own prosperity over another, and to avoid being taken advantage of.

Acts of kindness are heralded as life’s great boon. It is true, that to give selflessly is admirable, and yet, just as there are those who would give their home to shelter you from the rain…

< A shaman casts Healing Rain on the stage > ...there are those who would use that chance to take over your life.

Tonight, we invite you to behold a story about what happened to a lord who let the wrong. One. In.

< the narrator bows and leaves the stage. Lord Vincent takes to center stage and adjusts his coat. The narrator chimes in once they are out of view and vincent is ready. He is joined on stage by the townsfolk > NARRATOR: In an age long passed, there existed a small, but prosperous village. This village, nestled in the heartland of Lordaeron, was home to a most beloved Lord.

The lord’s name was Vincent, and he was described as selfless and giving. Sitting upon an empire of trade, he cared little for the money in his pocket each day, knowing it would be filled and then some by the time the sun set.

< Vincent is shown throwing bags of money into the crowd of townsfolk around him, who applaud and cheer him as he bows. While this happens, the Stranger walks onto the stage behind them and sits down > He was praised and heralded for his giving nature, and those closest to him in life knew that none loved his fellow villagers more than he. But one day, a cloud came over the village, and an endless rain began to fall.

< shaman actor casts Healing Rain to create a downpour. The townsfolk put on hoods and begin to walk away >

VINCENT: Oh dear, do get home quickly, everyone! You wouldn’t want to catch your death of cold from the rain!

You there - you may want to take shelter from the rain!

STRANGER: You who are fortunate knows only optimism. Tell me, how would one who has no home take shelter from the rain?

Do I use the lid of a crate? Do I sleep in the stalls with the pigs and cattle?

All valid solutions, and yet nothing compares to the simple warmth of a fire and a roof and walls to keep the elements away.

Nay, carry about your day, and allow me to drown...

VINCENT: You poor man. I had no idea! Life was not meant to be lived in squalor. Come, I’ve plenty of room at my estate on the hill.

STRANGER: <looks up at him and smiles > Truly you have a heart that bleeds for us all. I accept your offer, good lord. May I stay until a time I can get back on my feet?

VINCENT: Of course, come, come right this way!

< both walk off stage as the narration continues, during which they re-enter from the side they left once Lady Helena and Ser Harmun are on stage. Scene shifts to ‘interior - Vincent’s Manor’, servant 1 and 2 ‘cleaning’ at the wall in the background >

HELENA: My dearest, you’ve returned! And who is this fellow you’ve brought with you? HARMUN: My Lord, if I’d known you were bringing in guests, I’d have set another place at the table. Do give me some time to amend this grievous mistake. < Harmun bows and leaves the room >

VINCENT: Oh, this fellow has no place to stay. This rain looks to be a bit of a long one, so why not allow him to stay here, I thought?

< the stranger walks around the room suddenly, completely ignoring Helena and rummaging around >

HELENA: As always, such kindness from you, love. Erm, good sir, could you please not touch the books on the bookshelf, though? I just rearranged them, I’d like them to stay in the order they are-- VINCENT: Helena, please. Allow him to do as he wishes. Maybe he’d like to read a little before bed?

< the stranger takes some books in hand and turns to Vincent and nods > STRANGER: Oh yes, I… I like to read. Yes, I like to read...a lot. And...and write.

VINCENT: See? One who reads will surely treat our library with respect! Now, let’s all wash up for dinner.

< they all leave the stage as the narration continues. During the narration, Lord Vincent re-enters and walks to the other side of the stage, while Ser Harmun approaches him with two of the servants in tow >

NARRATOR: Days had passed, and their guest seemed normal, if not a little bit...quirky. He did in fact love to read, so much that he’d gone through all the books in the study, as a matter of fact.

HARMUN: My Lord, I pray I do not find you at a terrible time?

VINCENT: < closes the scrolls he is reading > No no, I was just finishing up reading over this financial summary. I something the matter?

HARMUN: Well, m’lord, you see… it is something regarding your recent guest. These servants were the ones who brought it to my attention, perhaps they should be the ones to tell you.

VINCENT: Oh? Nothing dreadful, I hope? < Harmun bows and takes a step back, back facing towards the back wall. Servant 1 steps forth and bows> SERVANT 1: Lord, it is not without hesitation that I come and report this to you, but when we went to clean in your guest’s chambers last evening, there was something quite...unsettling.

SERVANT 2: <blurts out, frantically> Blood! Blood and paper everywhere!

SERVANT 1: Y-yes, lord. You see, his room was riddled in ripped pages and there was blood spattered everywhere. It smelled pungent, like gore.

SERVANT 2: We went to go get the other servants quickly, but could find no one! None! And then by the time we returned, the room was empty!

VINCENT: Wait, I am confused. It is as though you are claiming that my humble guest stole the books from the study and used them to clean up the mess of a murder.

SERVANT 1: If I am to be blunt, lord, we would not be coming to you were this not the belief we held.

SERVANT 2: He is mad, I tell you! You are laying it on far too lightly, this man is deranged! He talks to himself in the hall, all in tongues I tell you! None can understand the language he speaks, but it is a guttural one!

VINCENT: Now, cease this at once! I refuse to believe such a wild claim without proof! Can you or can you not provide me with assurance that this man did the things you claim?

SERVANT 2: Well, uh… I am certain if the premises is checked, we can find the pages he used to soak the blood from whatever it was he killed! HARMUN: <steps forward and bows again > My lord, I am sorry to interrupt, but if need be, I can provide a search of the manor and rally the servants to comb it up and down, discreetly as not to disturb our guest.

VINCENT: < draws a heavy sigh > No, that should be entirely unnecessary. Even if the sight of gore was one that could be hidden, I am certain the room would smell of it as well. Please, just go back to your duties.

SERVANT 1: But, my lord…

VINCENT: Go! He is my esteemed guest, you will treat him as though he is one and not make up wild tales just because you don’t desire to aid him. < both servants take a look at one another and hesitantly bow, then leave > HARMUN: If I may, sir… VINCENT: Harmun, you’ve been my most trusted friend for many years now. If there is one person I trust, it is you. Do you believe there is merrit to their claims?

HARMUN: My lord… if I am to be frank and honest, both those servants are newer to the estate, and it is entirely possible they are being dishonest. But I cannot for the life of me think of a reason they are not.

The room does not smell of a kill, but their claims of the other servants being absent is very much true. I believe it is worth looking into, at the very least. VINCENT: <draws a heavy sigh> Harmun, what is this world to come to if we cannot trust our fellow men? If it will put the minds of our employees at ease, I will speak with him.

They serve us well, it is the least I can do.

HARMUN: Then I will see if I cannot find the missing servants.

VINCENT: See to it that you do. Now, let me go find our friend. <both walk off stage, the Stranger walks on stage. Servant 1 and 2 change costumes to match the stranger with a hood, their names become ‘Uninvited Guest’. They toil in the background like the servants did> VINCENT: <walks on stage and waves at the Stranger> Hail friend! I trust you are enjoying your stay here?

STRANGER: <smiles at Vincent> Oh of course, my Lord. Your generosity has been most helpful. I am feeling much better these days despite the storm. If I had stayed out there, I would have died of illness, no doubt.

VINCENT: Yes, I do agree. Better that a good man found you then, yes? Haha...ahh...I’ve been hearing that some strange occurrences are going on in the manor. <he casts a glance at the pillaging Uninvited Guests>

STRANGER: Strange? Whatever do you mean, my lord? Strange is such a...strange...word to define, why, it could mean most anything that others do not see eye to eye with.

Could it be...oh my, is it… no, if so, I must cease benefiting from your lordship’s kindness at once, then.

VINCENT: What? No no, no, what do you think? That the servants view you as something repulsive?

STRANGER: It is how the world sees me, so yes, I am most certain that is the case. The last thing I wish to do is to draw ire from your staff, o’ humble lord.

VINCENT: I assure you, if you have been given that impression at all, those who made you feel unwelcome will be most assuredly dealt with. STRANGER: It’s just that...there was a servant who came into my room and bothered myself and my colleagues. They insisted we were making the manor messy, untolerable.

They told us to carry our filthy hides out and bathe in the waters of the storm, or they’d throw us out themselves.

I’d hate to hear your good name tarnished should the townsfolk hear how we were treated... VINCENT: I will see that the servants are harshly punished then.

< he pauses a moment > ...wait, colleagues? STRANGER: Why, don’t you recall, my lord? You invited us all to live when we were in the rain. We’ve been ever so grateful. VINCENT: Did I say that? No, I didn’t, I’m almost positive there was… < he pauses and looks around at the Uninvited Guests, who turn to him and wave, then return to what they’re doing > VINCENT: Well… while I don’t remember it, I can’t imagine turning anyone in need away, so I must have. STRANGER: We are being careful not to disrupt your means of life. When at last the storm passes, we will be on our way. VINCENT: Well...if you feel you must stay after, then by all means. But I will see you again in a little while. I’m off to speak to my staff. Good day.

< As Vincent leaves, the Unwanted Guests stand side by side to the stranger > STRANGER: Oh, we won’t forget that kindness… < the Unwatned Guests and the Stranger both leave opposite the direction Vincent did. As the narration starts, Vincent and the servants from the previous scene are speaking, with Harmun standing nearby > NARRATOR: Vincent was convinced that the three men he had taken in were innocent. After all, why would they not be? They were copperless, and would have died in the rain.

Meanwhile, his servants lazed about the manor, day after day, very little asked of them. They lived a cushy lifestyle and were paid quite well.

< Using emotes, Vincent /roars at the servants and then /points off stage, simulating anger and booting them out. Servant 1 /cries, servant 2 /rudes, then both leave the stage. Vincent walks after them in the direction they left in, pauses for a moment, and takes a few steps back, before turning to face his servant >

VINCENT: I did what I had to.

HARMUN: My lord, if I may interject again… if what the stranger says is true, then pragmatism is not a horrid course to go, but what also of the townsfolk who hear you cast your own servants into the cold over the words of a man we barely know?

VINCENT: < he turns around and throws his hands up in the air as he walks away from the ‘door’ > Oh, not you, too! Harmun, you are beginning to sound like my wife. She said something similar to me earlier this morning before I went to speak to them. It matters not that we know little of our guests, what matters is that we do the right thing! We’ve rooms to spare, we’ve food to spoil, so what is the harm? HARMUN: < raises an eyebrow > Pardon my question, lord, but you speak as though there’s more than just a single guest... VINCENT: Three! HARMUN: My lord, are you feeling well? There’s only been the one skulking around the manor at all, and--

VINCENT: Enough! I will have no more questioning of my decisions!

< suddenly, Lady Helena appears on stage > HELENA: Oh, dear husband? Is this how you take my wariness of what you’ve wrought upon our house?

HARMUN: < takes a bow > I can see this is going to become a matter that is most personal, my lord. I will take my leave and prepare the evening meal. < he leaves the stage in the direction Helena came from > VINCENT: Helena, please listen! What sort of man would I be if I cast aside the sick and needy? HELENA: You would STILL be the heart I fell in love with years ago! There is no shame in kindness, love, but there is shame in naivety! Love, have you not noticed the strange occurrences as of the past few days? VINCENT: So some things have turned up missing. We can replace them! If the men I invited into my abode, that I spent my life acquiring, desire to take what they need in order to prosper, then I am glad I could sacrifice something!

HELENA: THEFT is the worst you could think of? Damn the missing books and silverware, damn the gems and jewelry! I am speaking of people!

Faces I’ve seen each day walk these halls, suddenly gone! Our servants have left us since the stranger arrived, not just the ones you cast away! VINCENT: Strangers, and yes, I’ve taken note! I will be posting for their positions to be filled once this storm is over.

HELENA: Is that what a good man would choose to say? Do you think they simply holed up in their quarters, love, there is nothing but darkness in that part of the house now!

The shadows swallow what little light one brings, and the rooms smell of mold and musk. No one is there, I am worried! VINCENT: Then I am right to post for their replacements, as they’ve all been so mortified at having to share their spaces with the poor that they cannot even fathom it and have left for their homes! HELENA: < she scoffs and turns away in anger > I’m going to go look for all of them. As clearly I speak to a man who cares little what becomes of those who worked to serve him. I once believed true selflessness existed when I met you. But in lieu of recent days, I cannot help but believe even your kindness was a means to an end.

VINCENT: Helena, wait! < she leaves >

Helena… < he pauses for a moment and sniffles, then /roars and yells > FINE! Ungrateful witch, I damn you! You know not how lucky you were, I am a living saint among men! Away with you! Chase the cruel hearts I cast from my home!

See if I care!

< Vincent walks off stage for a moment, then returns with Harmun in tow, as the narration begins. The Uninvited guests from before are now in the background, with Helena’s player donning a costume to resemble one as well (along with TRP change) > NARRATOR: The once lively manor of Lord Vincent had grown stagnant and silent. The air filled with settling dust and the smell of mold, and before long, Vincent found himself quite ill.

The storm had not relented, and many days had passed already. In his employ, only Harmun remained.

VINCENT: < coughing heavily > Tell me, Harmun, what are we eating this eve?

HARMUN: I’ve not had a chance to go into town to procure new ingredients because of this ceaseless storm. I’m afraid it will have to be stew again.

VINCENT: Bleck. Damn the bastard who invented that dull dish. It feeds plenty, but oh it gets old quickly. Why not cook me and my guests up a feast with what we have remaining? The rain could not possibly last another day!

HARMUN: < Harmun takes a deep breath > My lord, we have very little remaining, and more of your...guests...have been showing up day by day. I must speak frankly, for I do not believe we have enough remaining to feed the lot of them AND you. VINCENT: Oh. Oh, well, in that case, just give them my portions, then. It should keep them tided over until tomorr-- HARMUN: LORD! < he speaks harshly for a change > As your sworn caretaker and confidant for many years, I have never seen you act so blatantly oblivious to the truth. You are wasting away for these people, you cannot even care for yourself right now. VINCENT: < gasps > Harmun, you...you’ve never spoken to me in this manner! HARMUN: Nor do I desire to! My lord, you are without a doubt the kindest man of your financial standing, and this cannot be denied. But you are clearly being exploited!

They see your desire to appeal to the masses through kindness unique to your wallet! Look, not a single bit of decor remains in the manor anymore, nor a single book! All of your hard work is decaying rapidly, and you’ve no more who live beneath this roof! Just these people! < he gestures at the Uninvited Guests >

They’ve never done a thing for you, and yet they reap what you have sown for them, leaving you with not a scrap! Lord, please listen to me, you must exile them from this residence!

If it is their numbers you fear, I am certain we can find a way into town safely, I just do not desire to see you get hur-- VINCENT: Harmun. HARMUN: Yes, my lord?! VINCENT: … you have cared for me since a time I was young, and I have never known you to say things like this. And yet… I believe it is I who knows the right thing. Was it not I, whose business saved the Darrowshire Eastern Trade association, and the jobs within? Was it not I who built houses for the urchins and beggars who’d wandered the streets for years? Was it not I who donated an entire year’s income to ensuring famine did not exist in these lands? WAS IT NOT I?! HARMUN: … my lord. I have bit my tongue for too long.

You do not truly care about being kind, or doing what’s right. You care only about being worshiped as a savior, of being a idol of the people.

I have seen it in you for years, but I spoke nothing of it. Because nothing more needed to come of it. It was good to give, no matter the cause, be it selfish or selfless.

You do not need a reason to help people. But you must always be able to help yourself first. And this is the first time in which I truly believe that you will be unable to do so.

They will take everything from you, my lord. And then, they will find a means to take more. While it is my duty to help you, my lord, I cannot convince you to allow me to do so. I am sorry… but I must resign. Good day to you. VINCENT: Not you as well! Harmun, please, I beg of you, don’t do this!

< Harmun walks away and vincent continues to beg > Harmun! Harmun, my friend! You have it all wrong, please! I care immensely about the well being of my fellow men! You must understand, I-- < Harmun is out of sight > I… I know I am doing the right thing. Am I not? Was… was he right? < the Stranger walks on stage behind him, appearing suddenly (use the invisibility potion trick for this) > STRANGER: My gracious lord, you needn’t suffer those who question your golden morality.

Who but you have given nearly all they could to those who had nothing?

VINCENT: But I have lost everything… STRANGER: Oh heavens no, my lord. You still have much to give. Yes, much… why don’t you rest? You look weary. VINCENT: I am… yes...no, you are right. It’s been a trying day. Thank you, friend. I am glad there are still those who appreciate what I give.

< he walks away and the Stranger waves, this time joined by the Unwanted Guests, including the new one in the scene > STRANGER: Sleep well. We will see you one more time when you awaken. < the stranger and guests walk away, and Vincent walks into the center of the room, and /lays down, emoting that he’s tossing and turning > NARRATOR: Upon that evening, the lord tossed and turned, the mat that served as his bed upon a stone cold floor providing him with little sleep.

He blamed anxiety about the people in his life betraying him. He blamed the cold, the dark, the rain. He blamed everyone but himself. And soon, he found himself alone in the pitch black storm. One night, not long after, a visitor came into his room. < the Stranger enters and bows to Vincent > STRANGER: My lord, you have been so giving to us, I believe it is only time we gave something back to you. VINCENT: < stirring from his slumber > Wh-wha? Helena? You’ve returned? Oh…

< he stands up > It’s you, the one who never left! My friend, are you in need of anything more? More food, more wine? Books? Clean sheets and beds? < he /begs the stranger > Please, do not leave me as well! I have nothing left to give, but I would do anything to not be alone! STRANGER: My dear friend, nothing could be further from what I plan to do with you.

You have been a great host these many weeks. The storm has nearly faded, and there is no longer a reason for me to remain here.

But you will go with us, I assure you.

VINCENT: I...I will? You won’t leave me here alone? STRANGER: Not at all. Your friends and your family, they have us pegged all wrong. We are simple folk, nomads of the whispering forests. We have lived off of what we needed, and indulged in what we did not. Was it not you who gave us the clothes upon your back? Was it not you who gave us free reign of your home and all who reside within it? From the day you let me in, I have prayed to those who have eyes in every age, that their guidance on how you are to be rewarded be given. < all actors are now dressed as ‘Uninvited Guests’ - have TRPs and hoods ready to change, back into the original characters of Helena, Harmon, and servants 1 and 2 > And so it was, my lord. Your kindness shall be rewarded this evening…

< the uninvited all remove their hoods and change TRPs to the characters >

We will be having a feast in your honor!

VINCENT: < sniffles > I… I am blessed. Here I stand, stranded in my own home, nothing left to give, and providence smiled upon me, seeing fit to grant me your admiration! Oh, I am overjoyed! < /clap >

Tell me, what is it that we will dine upon tonight? I was under the impression we had no more food! STRANGER: Oh, your impressions were most correct. Since it is a special occasion, we figured you would be more than happy to give yourself in place of a meal. VINCENT: Ah. Well… I… < He stops and turns away, pacing towards the audience >

I… yes, I do suppose there in lies what I would do. I am Lord Vincent, what is mine is yours, after all.

It is, after all, altruism alone that drives my motives. Yes… here I stand, before the thousand eyes of the abyss. I wonder…

< use the ‘stuck’ trick to begin channeling an instant kill > ...will the shadows know what I did? Regardless. Dinner is served. < Vincent’s body is sliced with the knife toy, and the cast stands between him and the audience and begins to /eat > < the scene holds for a few moments, and then the cast leaves when Vincent rezzes. > NARRATOR: Thus ended the life of a man who's good needs did not go unpunished. In the years that followed, the little known village faded to obscurity.

The manor of Lord Vincent crumbled, the servants and lords who lived there becoming little more than a myth. The town became poor once more. The people began to starve, and had to take residence in more prosperous lands.

The questions upon their minds were not of concern for Vincent’s well being, but of concern for themselves, especially with rumor of a group of hooded individuals in the woods speaking in riddles and caked in blood.

Whispers and rumors traveled with the village’s scattered seeds of what transpired that stormy month, none without their truths and lies.

Yet none remained long after who remembered the kindness and good will of the man known as Lord Vincent.

<< End >>

Trivia:

This performance was the second entirely original story crafted by the Tirisfal Troupe, the first being Days of our Elves. However, it IS the first original non-comedy we’ve created. (while all our scripts are crafted from original content with a few odd references here and there, the Warcraft setting is typically a heavy influence, or the story references an existing tale or script)

This version of the story was the 5th draft of this script. Originally, there was a lot more buildup to the ending, and tension as well. There were even additional characters. To count for time and our smaller cast, however, this version was used.

The moral of the story was never explicitly decided upon. While the narration suggests it at the beginning, this is merely a ploy to get the audience to think along the lines they need to in order to get into the right mindset to absorb the story. When running the script by other troupe members, a different moral was gathered by most people, and none of them were technically wrong. We wanted to craft a story that people could make any number of conclusions about and still be right, without making it feel too loose. (Disclaimer: I don’t think we particularly succeeded, but trial and error and whatnot~!). What did you gather from the message of the story?

This play has technically been an idea tossed around for over two years. When the Bash was cancelled in 2017, however, we decided not to perform it. 2018 was our first performance of this show!

#script archive

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