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[aabidhussainn1000]

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[mayg-b]

@sbk-zgvlt @psycheprincess

Chapter 2 of my fanfic :)))

Chapter 2

Welcome to your new life

Sebek was looking at the potrait in denial, it was his litteral proof to doom 

 

"it must be a dream, Im probably in some kind of coma and my brain is playing tricks on me, something like a lucid dream...that must be it

 

sebeks tense shoulders visibly relaxed, since it was a lucid dream he could atleast have a bit fun right?

..its not like all of this is real right?

 

knock knock

 

Sebek looked towards the door

 

"Come in"  he said quietly 

 

Maid from earlier opened the door, she looked like a cat got her tongue. But she didn't stopped at her place and came near Sebek and offered the cup of water to him

"h-here is the cup of water you...requested young master.."

Sebek took the offered cup and held it with both hands

"Thank you, are you alright?"

"Y-yes!...umm may I ask how are you feeling today"

 

"I'm feeling well, but I want to stay alone for a while"

 

"As you request?..."

Maid left, looking weirdly awkward

Well, not like Sebek can blame her or something 

 

•Sebek Zigvolt, the main antagonist of the book was a loud character, a bit too loud for a lot of people's liking, he lived alone with his grandfather Baul zigvolt., for to train as a knight , Sebek didn't lived with his family, he lived with his grandfather, why?•

 

 • because his grandfather was a high ranked soldier who retired, perfect person to train with. And for some reason that book never explained, Baul and Lilia hate each other,

desperate people made tons of fan theories for the reason, most popular being "Baul betrayed Lilia in war, but never got caught and Lilia never talked about it" 

While least popular and the most stupid being "they were ex-lovers" it came after novel illustrations 

Like, who thoughts that? People really should stop shipping just because the looks of the characters

 

• anyways Sebek was a hard-core Malleus fan in the book and wanted to be his guard...it was his litteraly only dream. He already had bad feelings towards the main character even from the start of the novel because he heard Silver was a human. Sebek despited humans. Due to racist reasons and war obviously. he didn't even joined Silvers welcome back party, a party Lilia prepared at the castle of all of the places. That alone just showed how close Vanrouge family was to royalty.•

 

Sebek pursued his lips

 

•Sebek refusing to attend made the already hate relationship between Lilia and Baul worse than before•

 

you already hate him tho, why get more mad when he and his family doesn't attends?

 

See readers, just another stupid plot hole definelty.

 

Sebek moved his head up and down as if he just made sense to something

 

since I'm only lucid dreaming, what should I do now?, showering would be nice actually...but before that...

 

when, the same maid, came to check on her young master. Who seemed to be a bit late for breakfast time (well, not late actually but Sebek always came 5 minutes early.. til now..) she lost it..

 

Okay, him being unusually quite was something she could understand. Sometimes his throat hurted to a very bad degree that he couldn't scream, that's why she already prepared medicine too actually.

But this? This was....unimaginable! Unbelievable! 

What was it you ask?

 

His highness crown prince's portrait! It was! It was!-

 

Covered by a white sheet!?

 

'World must be ending'

Thought the Maid as she sitted down due to shock

 

creaaak 

 

bedroom door opened and Sebek, who finished showing came outside, when he saw the Maid in that state, he slightly bowed his head to side and spoke

 

"is something wrong?"

poor Maid fainted, poor one indeed.

 

 

 

 

 

At the dinner table, Sebek was eating alone, of course there was various butlers and maids and some knights but he was the only one eating, seems like Baul was busy

 

'Isn't that Maid overreacting tho? I just covered the portait...I wanted to take it out but Eh, what if it comes off as a disrespect to the royal family?'

"..."

 

'Well I can't really blame the Maid, this Sebek did said he would go as far as to illegally camp outside of the castle doors if he couldn't become a knight...'

 

Sebek sweetdroped as he remembed the second-hand embarrassment he felt while reading that scene..

Well he really did not had a problem with this character like some others, really! He didn't minded that this character was loud and sometimes annoying, he was even sometimes happy that this character was proudly showing off his dreams and idol! 

And no! He definetly didn't hated Sebek of this world before reading the book just because his siblings never-ending teasing for having the same name! Definelt not! Where did you get that idea??

It just that..sometimes Sebek took his hate with Silver and fanboying with Malleus a bit too far but he won't be like that.

 

Not in his lucid dream that's it! 

 

 

Right now, Sebek was walking around the mansions garden, 

'the faces of the knights when he said he won't be training today will never not be funny'

but can you blame him? The garden looks very peaceful.

While walking he came near a deep pond and he looked at his reflection

'now that I think about it...Sebek was a crocodile fae wasn't he? But he looks so much like a human...I didnt saw anything while showering either, Eh, maybe he has some kind of transformation or something'

while Sebek was watching his reflection and thinking, a pair of hands pushed him into the pond 

'!?!?'

sebek, who was in shock, tried to swim back to surface but the water was too cold and his new little body wasn't used to swimming...

'Its scary! Its scary! But- I'm dreaming anyways, wouldn't I wake up if I die?....'

Sebek fainted as a Maid, and 2 knights hurried over to the pond while 2 other knights ran after the assasin..

 

End of chapter 2 

( I'm done with chapter 2 what do you think??)

[sleephyjhs]

When in Quarantine (Taehyung Imagine)

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 0.46k

notes: reminder to please stay inside! y’all are sensible people and so please keep yourself, your family and others safe by staying home <3

m.list | requested

Quarantine caused great inconvinience for millions around the globe, but it came with opportunities too. Decorating living spaces, building a new hobby or binging old shows were common activities amongst people who were locked inside, yourself and Taehyubg by no means excluded from them.

The board games were near enough worn out. If you tried hard enough, you could probably answer every trivia card from memory. Lists of films you’d been dying to watch together were now ticked from your list.

But as the aspiring artist Taehyung was, he had opted for a new hobby. Photography and music were already well familiar to him, and so a new type of media to try had never been so appealing. Acrylic painting was harder than it seemed, but Taehyung seemed ready to try anything at that point.

Within the week, the spare wall in your shared bedroom was bulging with his painted canvases, a clear improvement winding from left to right. As a naturally artistic person, Taehyung had adapted quickly to his new skills and it made you happy to see him enjoying himself.

“I need to order some more canvases, I used the last one today.” Taehyung sighed, flopping down next to you on the sofa, “They took enough time to arrive before the lockdown, imagine what it’ll be like now.”

You flattened your mouth, thinking of all possible ways to help Taehyung continue with his artistic spurt. Nowhere was open to purchase his canvases in person. Instead, you considered becoming a human canvas for him, and decided it would be something to do.

“Why don’t you paint on me? I’ve never watched you paint, so I’ll take front row seats.” You couldn’t help but beam as Taehyung reacted to your offer. His eyes widened and his cheeks inflated with happiness. Taehyung reaches out for your hand and pulled you into the study which he had converted into his own studio for the quarantine period.

You say adjacent to him on the wooden floor and extended your leg out, exposing your thigh for coverage. The intial tickle of the brush soon wore off, not before he’d painted the first layer of acrylic. Taehyung had chosen a soft grey tone to begin, but you couldn’t help and wonder what he was preparing to sketch onto your skin.

“What are you going to paint?” You asked, tilting your head slightly to have the same view of the portait as he did.

“Remember the mountains we saw in Hawaii?” Recalling the wonderous sights you’d seen on your first vacation with Taehyung warmed your heart. Knowing he also thought about the location where you truly fell in love with one another was another type of comfort. Not in the way that healed you, but one that simply enlightened you.

[dinosaurtsukki]

across the sea | a bokuaka fanfic (act. I)

inspired by the movie ‘portrait of a lady on fire’ by celine sciamma which is sad and lesbian

pairing: bokuto koutarou x akaashi keiji

word count: 21.8k words

contains: historical setting (actually the setting is vague bec if i tried to describe it more it would take 5 extra pages), heavy angst, slight fluff, greek mythology references, implied smut

summary: when Bokuto accepted a portrait commission for the young, engaged Akaashi Keiji, he never expected him to be so beautiful. he knows it's a mistake to be attached, a mistake for them to fall in love in a time when they know it's impossible for them to be together.

a/n: i’m a sad gay who loves sad lesbian movies and portait of a lady on fire is peak film. a lot of the things here are based on the film so i suggest you check out this beautiful movie, but i added a few tweaks here and there to make it my own. 

chapters: act. I, act. II., act. III

“You’re not the first painter to come here,” the ferryman said. Actually, it wasn’t the first time Bokuto had heard that. And now, he was sitting in the middle of tiny, fishing boat, clutching his tattered suitcase and the thin, wooden box where he kept his canvases for dear life. Mostly due to the fact that if his suitcase or canvases found their way overboard, Bokuto would have no choice but to jump after them.

“Is he a terror?” Bokuto asked, deciding to make conversation with the ferryman anyway.

“A terror? No, none of the painters who came back looked scared. Maybe frustrated or lost is the right word,” the ferryman said. “He never leaves the manor but they say that he’s more beautiful than his suitor.”

“I’ve heard that too,” Bokuto muttered as he gazed over the horizon to the shore where the boat was headed. He wasn’t particularly fond of the job he had to take: a portrait commission. Bokuto would much rather work on the commission from the church in his hometown with his master, painting bodies and landscapes were his specialization. On the other hand, Bokuto was not as confident with drawing the human face, specifically, capturing emotion in the eyes. Which were very, very important for a painter hoping to make his own way into the world. And because of that, his master sent him off to the Elysium Estate, a secluded piece of land nestled along the coast of a provincial town owned by the Akaashi family, to paint Akaashi Keiji’s portrait to send to his suitor.

An hour later, the boat had reached the harbor and Bokuto promptly got off, grateful for steady, unshifting land, thanked the ferryman and paid the fee. Then, clutching his suitcase and canvases, he made his way up a rocky trail to where the estate was. Up close, the large house looked dark and gloomy, as if nobody lived there, at all, but it still looked quite grand with its Greek-inspired architecture and marble columns framing the entrance. Standing outside, as if expecting him, was a young man with short, black hair, dressed in a butler’s uniform.

“You must be the painter, Bokuto Koutarou,” he spoke, bowing formally when Bokuto walked up. “I’m Kageyama Tobio, the estate butler. If there is anything you need during your stay here, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thanks!” Bokuto grinned. “Um, no need to be so formal though. I’m just an apprentice painter.”

“The madam ordered me to treat you as such,” Kageyama said, holding out his hand to take Bokuto’s belongings. Bokuto contemplated it for a while and handed him his suitcase, keeping his canvases closely to himself. Kageyama opened the door to the estate and they walked into a foyer that was dimly lit by a few candles.

“It doesn’t seem like a lot of people stay here, huh?” Bokuto said as he looked around.

“Only the madam and her son are currently living here,” Kageyama explained, taking an oil lamp from the table and walking down a hallway near the grand staircase. “You will be staying in this room for the meantime,” he added, opening the door to a room that was much larger than Bokuto’s master’s studio. Inside was a large, four-poster bed, windows that almost covered the entire far wall, a fireplace, and an easel already set up. When Bokuto glanced at the wall nearest him, he could see a door that probably led into his own bathroom.

“Wow, this is… a nice room,” Bokuto said, unable to find the words to say.

“The madam and young master Keiji have retired for the evening but he has agreed to meet you for breakfast in the dining hall,” Kageyama said, leaving the suitcase on top of the chest at the foot of Bokuto’s bed. “Would you like me to bring up some supper?”

“Yes please,” Bokuto smiled politely and Kageyama left him in the dark, grand room. Bokuto took the time to start a fire to light up the room. Then, he unloaded his canvases. The wooden box that was custom-made for it was nailed shut and Bokuto pried it open with a small tool stashed in his suitcase. To his relief, the canvases were both as pristine and white as when he first packed them. Bokuto lovingly ran his finger across the surface, already eager to break out his paints and start the commission. Just for the sake of being able to paint again.

After a warm meal of bread and soup, Bokuto lay on the soft bed of his room and fell asleep.

The next morning, he was woken up by Kageyama knocking on the door. Remembering that he would be meeting Akaashi for the first time, Bokuto quickly washed his face and dressed into his best pair of trousers and a clean shirt before hurrying to the dining room. The room was half the size of the manor’s living room, but better lit with tall windows that reached the ceiling. The long table was set for two and already sitting there, was Akaashi Keiji.

The rumors about his beauty were true: with his tanned skin, hair the color of chocolate that fell in short waves around his face, his graceful facial features, and eyes the color of deep emerald that followed Bokuto as he walked to his seat. Under the table, he felt his hands itch for a piece of charcoal and paper.

“U-um, Bokuto Koutarou,” he stammered, remembering that he had to introduce himself. “Pleased to meet you… um, sir.”

“There’s no need for that,” Akaashi waved his hand. His voice was soft but he spoke and enunciated every syllable. “So, my mother sent you to become a companion before I’m carted off to Italy to get married. Hopefully, I get to enjoy some kind of freedom before that happens.” He paused and fixed his gaze on Bokuto. “What do you think about all this?”

“Well, your mother seems concerned about you and your health—”

“You don’t have to talk as if she’s here,” Akaashi interrupted him. “She’s the one who’s paying you, not me. Tell me what you really think.” Bokuto blinked at the interruption and one look at Akaashi told him that he would detect any lie. So, Bokuto decided to tell the truth, or as much as he could without spilling the fact that he was painting his portrait in secret.

“When I entered the workforce to get a job, I never thought I’d have to be hired to be a personal companion,” Bokuto chuckled. “But it beats working in a factory. About your situation however, I think it’s a bit sad.”

“Sad? Do you pity me?” Akaashi’s expression was neutral.

“In a way, I do. It must be lonely having to stay here. Maybe your mother hired me so you’d have someone to talk to. In a way, I guess I am perfect for job,” Bokuto grinned. “People say I’m talkative enough to hold a conversation for two.” Akaashi looked down at his plate, as if thinking over what Bokuto said, and then looked out the window.

“I want to go down to the beach today,” he said, Bokuto silently let out a sigh of relief. He had passed whatever test Akaashi had set up. “Accompany me after breakfast.”

“Yes sir,” Bokuto nodded. In front of him, he saw the corner of Akaashi’s lip turn up.

“I’m younger than you. You may call me Akaashi.”

An hour later, Bokuto made his way down the beach with Akaashi behind him, wearing a dark green scarf around his chin and a jacket over his shirt. Bokuto couldn’t help but notice how Akaashi looked at the beach as if it was the first time he was there, and perhaps it was his first time at the beach. Judging by how thin his frame was and his breathing that was almost labored while he walked down the beach, Bokuto could easily tell how sickly he was. Bokuto considered sitting on the sand with Akaashi, but another part of him wanted Akaashi to experience much more. As soon as they reached the beach, Bokuto kicked off his shoes and socks and walked over to wade in the sea.

“Come on,” he smiled and raised a hand encouragingly at Akaashi who eyed him curiously before taking off his shoes and socks, as well as his jacket and left them in a neat pile beside Bokuto’s things. He dipped his feet hesitantly in the water, before walking forward and joining Bokuto.

“Thanks to you, my mother allowed me to finally come down here,” Akaashi said, squinting at the horizon. “We came to live at the estate because the doctors said the sea breeze might do me good, but they kept me locked inside.”

“What do you do to pass the time?” Bokuto asked.

“Read, mostly. Actually, all the time,” Akaashi answered. “Even if I wasn’t allowed to go out, my father consistently sent me books and tutors so at least my learning was up to standard. My mother joins me in the library sometimes to work on her embroidery.” He looked sideways at Bokuto. “I know a lot of things, like the deepest parts of the sea we’re standing in, the trade routes that cross it, but I’ve never been in it.”

“Well, if it’s any comfort, yesterday was the first time I’ve been to sea,” Bokuto admitted. “I never thought waves could rock a boat so much. I was sick to my stomach and I almost threw up over the side of the boat.” Akaashi smiled wryly.

“Did you?”

“No,” Bokuto chuckled. “The sea was a wonderful blue, I couldn’t bear to throw up in it.”

“That’s good,” Akaashi nodded. “I’ve always wondered about how salty the sea is.” Bokuto raised his eyebrows, bent down, and cupped some water in his hands.

“Want to try it for yourself?”

“As long as you don’t tell my mother,” Akaashi snorted. He cupped his hands down under Bokuto’s and bent down, raising their hands. Bokuto felt Akaashi’s lips kiss the tips of his fingers as he sipped the saltwater. Akaashi raised his head, making a face that was half-grimace, half-look of curiosity, and spat the saltwater back into the sea. Bokuto laughed.

“How was it?”

“The saltiest thing I ever tasted,” Akaashi said. “Even saltier than bacon. But now I know how salty sea is.”

They spent the next few hours at the beach, even taking their lunch there after Kageyama delivered it in a picnic basket. Bokuto took the time to watch Akaashi as he picked up rocks and shells to inspect before returning them where he found them, attempting to memorize his unwilling client’s face. In his head, Bokuto pictured Akaashi in a fancy, green dress jacket that matched the color of his eyes, sitting with his hands folded over each other and perhaps a book on his lap. He kept that image in mind when he asked Akaashi if they could head inside. The madam, whom Bokuto was to meet the next day, called Akaashi to the library giving time for Bokuto to begin sketching drafts of the portrait.

He took his time, drawing different parts of Akaashi at first: his hands, his hair, his side profile and ears, his nose and mouth, and lastly, his eyes. Bokuto had to soap the charcoal off his fingers before joining Akaashi at supper, this time making less conversation to observe the details of his face. When he was alone in his room again, Bokuto laid the sketches out before him near the fireplace and made an attempt to draw Akaashi’s eyes again, only to give up on lie on the floor, trying to remember how the candlelight at dinnertime accentuated the planes of his face and the faraway look in Akaashi’s eyes that seemed to lead out to sea.

…

The next day, Bokuto sat in front of Akaashi Keiji’s mother, or Mikoto, as she preferred that he would address her, in the manor’s library upstairs. Out of all the rooms Bokuto had visited in the giant house, this one seemed to be the most visited by the madam and her son. Like the dining room, it had large windows that lit the entire room. The wooden floor was polished and books that have left their shelves to rest in stacks around the room showed signs of it being frequented, most likely by Akaashi himself. Other than that, there was something about the entire room that felt comforting and warm.

“So, you’ve met my son,” Mikoto said, sipping from her teacup. She looked a lot like her son: same brown hair, green eyes, and sharp features. His master told him that she had one lame leg, thanks to being infected by polio years ago, which prevented her from going around frequently. “How did you find him?” she asked, fixing him with her gaze.

“He’s, well, quite reserved,” Bokuto answered. “Yesterday when we had breakfast, I feel as if he was testing me,” he added with a nervous chuckle.

“Ah, Keiji tends to do that,” Mikoto smiled ruefully. “We used to live near a city when he was younger. But, because of his health, my husband decided to move us here for the sea air. That did Keiji’s health better but unfortunately, he’s had very little encounter with the outside world. When we told him about the marriage arrangement, he’s grown distant from me.”

“Is that the reason why nobody has ever successfully painted his portrait?” Bokuto asked.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Mikoto nodded. “Keiji’s strong-willed and scheming, despite everything. He knows that we need the marriage for our lands and wealth to continue remaining under our family name. He doesn’t directly transgress the marriage, but he makes it difficult for it to continue.”

“He’s probably prolonging it,” Bokuto said, suddenly feeling sad for Akaashi. Even though he was better off with a wealthy family compared to Bokuto who was taken in by his master after his parents died, Akaashi had very little freedom. And now, a marriage.

“Probably,” Mikoto set her cup down and looked at the portrait of her that hung over the fireplace. “Which is why we need you, Bokuto-san. Your master played a hand in helping seal my marriage by painting this portrait. He did well. And now, you must do the same.” Bokuto gulped. “Your master spoke very highly of you. Have you started on the portrait?”

“Yes,” Bokuto nodded. Early that morning, he had sketched a rough layout of Akaashi on one of his canvases. Without Akaashi there to pose, it took a great deal for Bokuto to visualize his position. But he wasn’t his master’s student for nothing. Bokuto was confident that he could paint Akaashi’s likeness.

“Well, I mustn’t keep you then,” Mikoto said. “Call Akaashi to come here. I’ll let you have a few hours to paint.”

“Thank you, Mikoto-san,” Bokuto bowed before leaving the library, closing the double doors behind him. He walked down the great stairs of the manor and was about to head into his room when he ran into Akaashi heading his way. “Akaashi,” Bokuto grinned, trying to make it seem as if he hadn’t just discussed Akaashi’s marriage with his mother just a while ago. “I was just about to look for you.”

“Well, you found me,” Akaashi said. He was wearing trousers, a light blue shirt, and a beige jacket.

“Your mother requests that you join her in the library,” Bokuto said. Akaashi made a face.

“I don’t feel like reading, I’d rather go outside,” he said. “Would you come join me at the beach again? It should be at low tide when we are there.”

“I-I would, but…” Bokuto stammered.

“Is there anything you’re preoccupied with?” Akaashi asked, stepping closer to Bokuto. His green eyes bored into his, searching for an answer. Bokuto relented.

“Of course not,” he shook his head and smiled. “Going to the beach sounds great.” Bokuto groaned internally, thinking about how fast he’d have to paint before sunset. And then, Akaashi smiled, excitement shining in his eyes.

“Let’s go then, Bokuto-san.” And somehow, it was all alright. The two of them made their way to the beach, walking side by side. Akaashi had the same scarf he wore yesterday tied around his chin. Bokuto walked in front of Akaashi when they made their way down the trail along the rocky side of the cliff. Every so often, Bokuto felt the urge to turn around to check how Akaashi was doing, and to memorize the look of his hands as they gripped the side of the cliff, the concentration in his furrowed brow, how his green scarf billowed behind him in the wind. As they neared the bottom of the cliff, Bokuto suddenly heard the sound of rocks falling and Akaashi crying in surprise.

“Bokuto-san!”

Quick as a flash, Bokuto turned around to catch Akaashi in his arms, holding a hand out to steady himself against the cliff with the other wrapped around Akaashi’s waist. Up close, Bokuto could smell the sea breeze already caught in Akaashi’s clothes as well as the slightest whiff of vanilla. For a moment, he wondered if he could catch that scent in the portrait he was going to paint.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” Bokuto said. Akaashi stepped back, steadying himself against the rocky cliff wall. His one hand lingered on Bokuto’s shoulder before using it to pull down the scarf tied around his chin.

“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” he spoke. Without thinking, Bokuto held out a hand to him. Akaashi accepted and the two walked hand-in-hand to the beach.

Bokuto soon found out why Akaashi was excited to go down to the beach at this time. After leaving his scarf, jacket, shoes, and socks in a neat pile again on the sand, Akaashi waded out to sea and bent down in search of hermit crabs and other creatures in the tide pools. Bokuto waded with him for a while before sitting near a large rock and taking out a piece of paper folded around a small piece of drawing charcoal. He decided to focus on drawing Akaashi’s hands, folded over each other, before finding his own hand moving by itself and drawing Akaashi’s eyes, his nose, the scarf tied around his chin that covered his mouth. ‘Stupid,’ Bokuto shook his head, realizing that he didn’t need to sketch the scarf for the portrait. He folded the sketch and stuffed it in his shirt pocket, rubbing the charcoal of his fingers on his pants as Akaashi jogged towards him with something cupped in his hands.

“Bokuto-san,” he stopped, holding out his hands to Bokuto to show a hermit crab scuttling in it. Bokuto let out a chuckle.

“I see you’ve found a friend,” he reached out a finger to gently stroke the crab’s shell. Akaashi had a small smile on his face. “Thinking of bringing it home?”

“No,” Akaashi shook his head. “I read that they easily get depressed when they’re alone. And I don’t think he would want to live in a sink. I just wanted to hold one in my hands.”

“Like when you held seawater yesterday,” Bokuto said, smiling at the memory. “But I’d advice against tasting this one.” Akaashi looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Very funny, Bokuto-san,” he said dryly. Bokuto snickered. Akaashi bent down and released the hermit crab into the sand.

“Let’s head back, I’m good for today,” Akaashi said, walking back to where his things were. “I know you still have some things to work on.”

“I—”

“You don’t have to explain,” Akaashi held out a hand. “It was… rude of me to try to invade your privacy. I apologize. It’s just…” Akaashi pursed his lips and looked down.

“I get it. Kageyama isn’t the most talkative person around,” Bokuto grinned, sidling up next to him. “And I was hired to be your companion.”

“I don’t want you to think about it like that,” Akaashi said. “I know it’s not normal. It’s kind of sad that my mother would have to hire someone to be my friend here. So, can we both pretend that your salary doesn’t come from a fake friendship?”

“Well…” Bokuto shrugged. “If we’re going to that, want to add to the pretending?”

“How do you suppose we do that?” Akaashi looked at him curiously.

“If we’re going to be pretend friends, how did our ‘friendship’ begin?” Bokuto asked. “Maybe I was a boy from the nearby village who wandered here, wanting to see the Elysium Estate for myself. All the other kids say it’s an abandoned manor, a haunted one specifically. But I, a brave soul, decided to check it out.” Akaashi smiled and sat down on the sand to put on his socks and shoes.

“On that day, my mother let me read outside, just near the house of course. While reading my book, I couldn’t help but notice a noise coming from behind the house,” he continued.

“It was me, pelting pebbles at one of the windows,” Bokuto laughed, fully engaged in their imagining.

“Lucky for you, my mother was asleep and I happened to appear before you first.”

“I probably screamed like a girl in terror thinking you were a ghost.”

“And then I had to calm you down. And then tell you that there were in fact people living here.”

“And then I sense how lonely you are and invite you to play.”

“And then we play tag all morning and chase each other on the beach,” Akaashi smiled, eyes scanning the horizon again. “That’s a nice backstory. Though, it’s just a story.”

“It’s a good story,” Bokuto held out a hand and helped Akaashi to his feet. Both of them reached the manor a good three hours before the sun set, leaving Bokuto with enough time to begin mixing his paints to begin the portrait. It was probably his favorite part of painting, creating the colors to imprint a real picture on canvas. He mixed some red and white into a warm shade of brown for Akaashi’s skin, darkening the shade for his hair. Bokuto touched his brush to his paints and filled in his sketch. Then, he mixed in white and a darker brown for the highlights and contours. Next, he worked on Akaashi’s suit: dark green jacket and crisp white shirt. Clothing was harder to work on without a model but Bokuto tried to imagine where the creases and folds would be placed and ran his brush over them.

Now that he had begun, Bokuto didn’t want to stop painting, even after dinner when he had to light five candles and place them around his workstation. Eventually, the change in lighting got to him and Bokuto knew he couldn’t continue working like this. He packed away his paints, brushes, and palette, folded up his easel, and moved them to the extra storeroom connected to his bedroom. Then, he gently lifted the canvas, careful not to touch it, and placed it gently in the closet. Lastly, Bokuto blew out all the candles, taking the last one with him to take one last look at his painting before going to sleep. When he squinted, with the candle in front of him, the portrait looked as if it was on fire.

…

The next few days were like so: Bokuto would accompany Akaashi for walks on the beach or around the fields bordering the estate and the village over. Many times, Bokuto would have to rush his time to work on Akaashi’s portrait before sunset fell. In the mornings, he’d wake up early to check on errors he might have made in the dim light. Most of them were errors in shading, a color not mixed right, but there was little to fix. Before he knew it, Bokuto was almost finished with the portrait.

At the same time, he couldn’t help but feel guilty having to paint this portrait behind Akaashi’s back, knowing all the effort he put into preventing his arranged marriage as best as he could. Even seeing the excited look on Akaashi’s face, which lifted Bokuto’s spirits momentarily, had the bitter aftertaste of knowing that this excitement would all be ruined once Bokuto had to tell him about his circumstances for being at the manor. So, he spent a bit more time with Akaashi, hoping that he didn’t have to finish the portrait so early. That was until Akaashi.

“He’ll likely be in bed all day,” Mikoto said, telling Bokuto the news over breakfast when he asked why Akaashi wasn’t there. “That should give you enough time to finish the portrait by tomorrow, right?” she looked up at him over her breakfast. Bokuto swallowed.

“Yes Ma’am,” he nodded. For once, he wasn’t excited to get back to finishing a painting.

“Good. Keiji’s father has called for me to meet him in Kyushu. I set out to leave tomorrow after breakfast. If you like, I could be the one to tell Keiji about your… background,” she said, spreading butter on a slice of bread. He could tell that she was relieved, probably, knowing that she’d be rid of her sickly son. ‘No, that’s not it,’ Bokuto mentally shook his head, reminding himself that Akaashi Mikoto was simply doing her job as a mother and as someone concerned about the wealth of her family. She wasn’t a bad woman, Bokuto just somehow bitterly considered her as one.

“It’s alright, Mikoto-san,” Bokuto shook his head. “I’ll tell him myself.”

Mikoto smiled at him. Immediately, she looked years younger, just like the woman in the portrait that hung in the library. “Thank you, Bokuto-san. I trust that it hasn’t been easy, having to paint a portrait of my son without having him pose. I have no doubt that the portrait will be lovely, but I’m not looking forward to seeing the look on Keiji’s face after realizing what I’ve done.”

“Neither am I,” Bokuto smiled ruefully. “Forgive me for this but, I believe I’ve come to see him as a friend these past few weeks.”

“I know he sees you as one too,” Mikoto nodded, looking out the window. “I forbade him from going to the beach for years, fearing that something would happen to him. I couldn’t accompany him and Kageyama’s the only household staff who manages the property. These days, you can tell how excited he is in the morning. He doesn’t say it but you can see it in his eyes.”

Bokuto smiled wistfully. In his portrait, he tried to capture the small smile that would come up on Akaashi’s face whenever he was excitedly wading in the beach or showing Bokuto something new. But as successful as he was in picturing it, it didn’t translate in the portrait. The Akaashi Keiji there had a stern expression on his face, his eyes staring blankly. It was still a good portrait, but Bokuto knew that something was lacking.

After breakfast, he spent more than an hour adding the finishing touches on the portrait and looking at it from afar. He was finished with the portrait, but he didn’t want to tell Mikoto or her son yet. Instead, Bokuto ventured off into the kitchens where Kageyama was busy preparing lunch. With going to the beach with Akaashi and being locked in his room working on the portrait, Bokuto saw very little of Kageyama. Knowing that he’ll be leaving soon after giving the portrait to Mikoto, Bokuto felt that he should have at least one conversation with the butler.

“Bokuto-san,” Kageyama looked up from the pot he was stirring on the stove. “Is there anything you need?”

“Just water,” Bokuto said. “It’s alright, I can get some myself.” Kageyama nodded and Bokuto filled his cup at the tap near the stove before sitting at the long wooden table inside the kitchen. There was a bowl of potatoes, a chopping board, and a knife on the table. “Do these need peeling?” Bokuto asked, picking one up and, without waiting for an answer, picked up the knife.

“Please don’t trouble yourself with that, Bokuto-san,” Kageyama said hurriedly. “You still have the young master’s portrait to finish.”

“It’s already finished,” Bokuto smiled up at him. “And believe it or not, squinting at a canvas with a brush full of paint gets tiring after a while. I’m a pretty good assistant in the kitchen as well,” he said, peeling the potato. “But I’m a terrible cook.” A small smile flitted across Kageyama’s face. He sat at the table in front of Bokuto and cubed the peeled potatoes.

“How long have you worked here?” Bokuto asked, hoping to initiate conversation.

“A good five years,” Kageyama answered. “The previous butler was a good friend of mine but he decided to work in a much livelier household.” Bokuto quirked his lips slightly.

“And you don’t mind having a less-lively household?”

“It’s quite ideal, actually. I only have two people to wait upon. Both of them don’t require much, except for when the young master falls ill. The pay is good and the room and board is free,” Kageyama answered. “And the beach is just outside for me to visit.”

“It makes me sad knowing that Akaashi hasn’t visited the beach at least once before I came,” Bokuto said.

“Yes,” Kageyama nodded, pausing with his work to look up at Bokuto. “He’s… a lonely man. I’ve kept wondering again and again if maybe I could have tried to befriend him but… that would be imposing of me.”

“Akaashi probably wouldn’t mind,” Bokuto said. Kageyama blinked at him in surprise before smiling.

“Seeing how lively he is now with you as company, I agree.” Again, Bokuto felt regret in the back of his throat.

“Do you… do you think he’ll hate me after I tell him that I’m painting his portrait?” Bokuto asked. Kageyama pursed his lips.

“I don’t know the answer to that. But I have a feeling he will be disappointed,” he said, scooping up the cubed potatoes and adding them into the pot on the stove. “Lunch will be ready in half an hour. Would you like me to take it to your room?”

“No need,” Bokuto shook his head and then, an idea popped into his head. “I could take Akaashi’s lunch to his room.”

“Bokuto-san, you don’t need to—”

“Trouble myself, I know,” Bokuto nodded. “But I’m finished with the portrait and there’s nothing else for me to do. Also…” he sighed. “I know it’s pretty useless but maybe I could make amends with Akaashi this way?”

“He would appreciate it,” Kageyama said.

Bokuto carefully carried the tray of Akaashi’s lunch: soup with chicken and potatoes, and a roll of bread, upstairs to his room. It just occurred to him that he had never been to Akaashi’s room before and seldom even went to the second floor. Bokuto paused in front of it before knocking once, twice, thrice.

“Akaashi?” he spoke. “I, uh, brought—”

“Come in.”

Bokuto opened the door. He didn’t know what to expect when it came to Akaashi’s room but once he was inside, the whole space undeniably felt as if it belonged to Akaashi. The number of books in his bedroom was probably a quarter of what was in the manor’s library. Bokuto felt himself smile, knowing he found the source of the gaps in the bookshelves. The curtains on the window were drawn back, letting in a good amount of light. There was a small table pushed near the window and on it was a vase full of wildflowers. Bokuto recognized them as the ones that Akaashi had picked in the fields the other day. The owner of the room himself was sitting up in bed, wearing a maroon robe, with a book on his lap.

“I brought your lunch,” Bokuto said, lifting up the tray.

“Thank you,” Akaashi said, his voice sounded hoarse and weak. Bokuto set down the tray at his nightstand and sat down on the chair near his bed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Sick,” Akaashi shrugged, there was a gleam in his eyes that betrayed the fact that he was teasing Bokuto.

“Care to elaborate?” he chuckled.

“I think it’s the usual flu,” Akaashi sighed. “Aches, fever, all that good stuff. Nothing new.”

“Well, you better eat to maintain your strength,” Bokuto said, gesturing to the tray. Akaashi smiled wryly and lifted it to his lap. While he ate, Bokuto looked over at the books on his nightstand. Most of them were books on philosophy and political science. Except for one with a deep, burgundy jacket and a well-worn spine. “Greek Myths and Legends,” Bokuto read aloud.

“It’s my favorite book from my collection,” Akaashi said, sipping some broth from his spoon. “My father had gifted it to me personally before we left our previous estate.”

“I didn’t take you for a fan of legends,” Bokuto said.

“They’re the best things to read,” Akaashi cocked his head. “They’ve been around longer than any scientific theory or philosophy. The very beginnings of how men and women attempted to make sense of a world they didn’t understand yet.”

“When you put it that way…” Bokuto reached out a hand. “May I?” Akaashi nodded his permission and Bokuto carefully extracted the book from the pile and thumbed through the pages. He could tell that the book was worth quite a lot. From the thick, cream-colored pages, the title that was written in perfect calligraphy, to the colored, watercolor illustrations. The fact that this book wasn’t behind a display case, well-worn from reading and placed on a nightstand said a lot about Akaashi. Bokuto flipped to a random page. “The Myth of Prometheus,” he read aloud. In front of him, Akaashi smiled and leaned back in his bed.

“’There lived a titan named Prometheus, the supreme trickster and the god of fire,’” he recited out loud. ‘Of course he remembers it word by word,’ Bokuto thought, smiling to himself as he continued where Akaashi left off.

“’He was tasked by Zeus to form man from earth and water, and he did so. But Prometheus, the titan, grew fond of his creation…’” And so, Bokuto continued reading, not stopping until he reached the end of the myth when Prometheus was sentenced to his punishment of being chained to a rock while an eagle feasted on smalleaccompanying illustration of Prometheus’s punishment.

“Zeus always was the most bloodthirsty of the three major gods,” Akaashi chuckled dryly. “It’s a good story. While it is meant to be a cautionary tale about what happens when you defy the orders of a god, it does bring to light the need for situations wherein such transgressions are necessary.” He paused and turned to look at Bokuto. “What do you think about it, Bokuto-san?”

“Well, I always thought it was about…love?” he said uncertainly. In all honesty, the only time he ever encountered the myth was when his master retold it to him. Greek myths were always the subject of many painting commissions so Bokuto was trained to be familiar with them. The hard part when it came to painting them was adding that slight variation, the artist’s interpretation of the myth.

“Love?” Akaashi echoed. “You seem to be quite the romantic, Bokuto-san.”

“I-I mean,” Bokuto stammered, thinking of a good reason. “Prometheus was in that whole predicament because he loved his own creation too much, right? And it’s almost impossible to love something you created.” It was true, he knew that much, especially among painters. Sometimes that love gets to the point that it was impossible for him to find imperfections in his work, or even fathom being separated from the painting. In the end, most of the paintings Bokuto loved would end up in the hands of the people who paid for it. “It would be cruel of him to deny his own creations that fire, and Prometheus knew the consequences for it. I bet even after being chained to that rock, he would still make that same decision again if he could.” When he finished, he found Akaashi looking at him with an amused expression on his face.

“You’re quire right,” he said. “It’s an interesting take on the myth. I never would have thought of it but then again, I’m not a creator.” The look on Akaashi’s face seemed to lay bare Bokuto’s secrets.

“D-do you have any other favorite myths?” Bokuto asked, hoping to change the subject. “I could read a couple more for you if you like.” Akaashi placed his tray back on the nightstand and folded his hands over his lap.

“That would be nice Bokuto-san. Could you turn to page three-hundred and twenty?”

“’The Twelve Labors of Heracles,”’ Bokuto read aloud.

“It’s a long one. Are you up for it?” a corner of Akaashi’s mouth was turned up in a smile.

“Of course I am,” Bokuto returned the smile. He’s never been much of a reader, especially after being taught by the older painters at his master’s studio and even then, he had been slow when it came reading and writing. At first, Bokuto winced as he stumbled over some of the words but Akaashi kindly helped him through it and didn’t seem to mind. He was quite good at making up voices for characters like Pan, the satyr or Medusa that cracked a smile on Akaashi’s face. Before he knew it, it was already dinnertime when Kageyama brought up their food. Mikoto came in once to take Akaashi’s temperature and before leaving the room, she made eye contact with Bokuto who hgave the most imperceptible of nods. ‘Yes, the painting is done,’ it meant, and Bokuto was back to contemplating how to break the news to Akaashi.

“Something the matter, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked. They were both still eating dinner at the table near his bedroom window. Akaashi looked visibly better than he looked earlier.

“I…” Bokuto swallowed and felt his hand curl into a fist on his lap. “Akaashi… I-I haven’t exactly been truthful to you.” Silence fell, Akaashi stopped what he was doing and looked at Bokuto, waiting patiently for him to finish. It only made Bokuto even more nervous. “You see, I’m actually—”

“Another painter that my mother hired,” Akaashi interrupted him. Bokuto’s eyes went wide.

“You… you knew?”

Akaashi pursed his lips and reached for Bokuto’s hand, the one that was still on the table. His hand was smaller and more delicate against Bokuto’s hands, his touch feather-light. “As much as you scrub your hands, you can’t quite erase all of the charcoal and paint stains completely, nor the smell of turpentine.”

“Ahaha, I should have been more careful then,” Bokuto laughed nervously and stopped when he saw the expression on Akaashi’s face: it was the picture of melancholy, and Bokuto felt his heart ache. Did he still choose the befriend him even after knowing his intentions? “I… I’m sorry,” he apologized softly.

“Why are you apologizing?” Akaashi looked up to meet his eyes.

“You didn’t need to be so civil around me since you knew what my intentions were,” Bokuto said. “Your mother told me that you constantly evaded the other painters’ and refused to pose for them to delay your wedding.”

“That is true,” Akaashi nodded, taking his hand back. Bokuto’s hand quickly felt the loss of warmth. “But shouldn’t I say the same for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t have to befriend me either. All you had to do was to paint my portrait in secret. You could have quickly denied my requests to go to the beach or ask my mother to keep me occupied for as long as you wanted.” The candlestick on their table was their only light source in the room and it illuminated Akaashi’s features so clearly and Bokuto felt every word he said. “Or is it, you just did those so I would trust you and for your cover not to be blown.”

“I…” Bokuto could hardly find the words. It was just like the first time they met, when they talked over breakfast before going to the beach. Except, Bokuto knew there was something at stake, only he didn’t know precisely what that was. Akaashi Keiji was just another one of his clients. Bokuto’s job would be finished tomorrow and he would go back to his studio with his money and he would wait for his next commission and in a few years, he wouldn’t even remember Akaashi Keiji among the other paintings he would make.

And so, he decided on his reply.

“Yes. You’re right.” He steeled himself for the look of hurt on Akaashi’s face, maybe a few things he would shout. ‘Those are momentary. I would forget about them later on,’ he thought. Instead, Akaashi leaned back in his seat and turned his head to the window.

“I see,” was all he said. And for some reason, that was worse.

“Akaashi—”

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” Akaashi cut him off, he was still looking out the window. “You may retire to your rooms now, Bokuto-san. You’ll have to travel home tomorrow.”

Bokuto swallowed hard and stood up, murmuring a ‘good night’ before leaving Akaashi’s room, running down the stairs, and entering his own room. He was out of breath and livid. ‘Why am I letting that get to me?’ he thought. With every breath he inhaled, an image of Akaashi came to mind. The intense look on his face when he was trying to figure out of Bokuto was lying. The pure excitement at seeing the beach. The hesitance giving way to confidence as he waded into the water. The pucker of his lips when he tasted the sea. The pure concentration as he hunted for hermit crabs. The movement of his lips when he said Bokuto’s name.

Without even realizing it, Bokuto found himself standing in front of Akaashi’s portrait. ‘Painters have an instinct,’ he remembered his master telling him when Bokuto made his first oil painting of a landscape. ‘A lot of us can tell when something is wrong with what we’ve painted. Not when it comes to the technical skills like light or shading. But it pertains to whether we’ve successfully captured a scene that’s alive, and all scenes are, on canvas.’ With his instinct, Bokuto could instantly tell that the portrait he painted of a man with a stiff expression on his face and no light behind his eyes, was not Akaashi.

Bokuto picked up his turpentine-soaked rag that he used to clean his brushed and held it over the face in the portrait. With one swift motion, he swiped it off.

…

He barely slept that night, knowing for sure that he was going to lose his job the next morning. He was going to be one of those painters who had left the estate empty-handed and frustrated, after getting so close. Yet try as he might, Bokuto knew that he didn’t regret destroying the portrait. So maybe, he could return with his head held high.

After stealing a few hours of sleep, Bokuto woke up to wash himself as best as he could and change into a clean shirt. He did all of this without looking at the portrait. Kageyama called him for breakfast and Bokuto steeled himself to face Mikoto and Akaashi. She attempted to make conversation over breakfast and yet he’d nod once in a while and pick at his breakfast, choosing not to acknowledge Bokuto who felt a deep ache in his chest.

Finally, it was time to unveil the portrait. Bokuto knew that he could simply tell Mikoto that he chose to change it in the last minute but on the other hand, he wanted Akaashi to see what he had done. So, he covered the portrait with a cloth and met them in the library to unveil the finished product.

“Bokuto Koutarou!” Mikoto exclaimed indignantly. She was clearly frustrated and Bokuto couldn’t blame her. She has gone through this same scenario a few times over. “You said you finished the portrait.”

“I did,” Bokuto nodded stiffly. “But… it wasn’t satisfactory enough.”

“You could have left that up for me to decide,” Mikoto huffed. Bokuto glanced over at Akaashi to find that the corner of his mouth had turned up in a smile. ‘Maybe this was his plan all along,’ Bokuto wondered. But it didn’t matter now. “Clearly, you are just like all the other painters who have come here. I suggest you leave as soon as possible.”

Bokuto nodded again, taking the cloth to cover up the portrait when Akaashi spoke up, saying something that neither Bokuto nor Mikoto could have expected.

“I’ll pose for him.”

Bokuto stopped and turned to face him. Akaashi was looking directly at him with a look of mild amusement on his face.

“You will?” Mikoto asked.

“I will,” Akaashi nodded. “I think… it’s time I put off this marriage long enough,” he explained. And yet, Bokuto didn’t quite believe he was telling the truth.

“Oh, Keiji,” Mikoto’s voice softened as she held her son’s face in her hands and enveloped him into a hug. “Thank you. You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that.”

“I know, Mother,” Akaashi said stiffly.

“As much as I would like to ask ‘why now?’, I really must get going,” Mikoto straightened up and looked at Bokuto this time. “I will be gone for two weeks. I expect a fully-finished portrait by the time I return.”

“I shall not disappoint,” Bokuto bowed.

“Good,” Mikoto nodded.

“Let me walk you to the ship, Mother,” Akaashi said, offering her his arm. Before leaving the room, Akaashi glanced once at Bokuto and with an imperceptible incline of his head, gestured for him to follow. An hour later, Mikoto and her luggage, which Bokuto helped Kageyama with, were loaded in the ship waiting for her at the docks. After the ship set sail, Kageyama was the first to head back to the house. Bokuto stayed with Akaashi as they watched the ship sail into the distance. He had a million questions for him but for now, all he could feel was relief. As Bokuto watched the way the wind swept through Akaashi’s hair, he knew that he wouldn’t mind looking at him for the next two weeks.

…

They started working on the portrait the next day. Kageyama offered to push the long table from the dining room to the side since it was the most well-lit room in the estate. In the middle, they added a chair and a low table for Akaashi to pose on. Bokuto set up his easel and spare canvas at the side, grateful at being able to paint in good lighting after having to work secretly in his own room. He began painting the background of the portrait with broad strokes of a maroon color to keep busy when Akaashi walked inside.

To say that he looked stunning was an understatement. Before Bokuto began his first portrait, Mikoto had shown him the suit that Akaashi was supposed to wear: a dark emerald green with golden buttons and a crisp white shirt meant to be worn with the color turned up. Seeing Akaashi actually wearing it was a different story. The suit hugged him perfectly, accentuating the slight curves in his waist with the high collar just reaching the bottom of his chin. Akaashi had combed his hair back just slightly which showed off his forehead.

“You look…” Bokuto began to say before stopping himself quickly. “Ready.”

“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi nodded curtly, unaware of how good he looked. “If you would…” he gestured to the chair in the center of the dining room and Bokuto hurried to pose him.

“Sit slightly forward in the chair,” he instructed. “Back straight. You can rest your elbow on the table if you want but the other hand, please keep on your lap.” Akaashi followed the instructions. “Lastly,” Bokuto reached a hand out to touch Akaashi’s shoulder to tilt him slightly towards the canvas. He was aware of how close Akaashi’s face was and that he was probably staring at Bokuto. ‘In all my years of painting, have I ever worked someone as beautiful as this?’ he wondered, before shaking the thought of his head and backing away to survey the pose. “Good, perfect,” Bokuto nodded before returning to his canvas.

“What expression should I have on my face?” Akaashi asked.

“A neutral expression would be ideal,” Bokuto answered, quickly painting an outline on the canvas. “If you get uncomfortable in your position please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

“Alright, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said. “Am I… allowed to speak?”

Bokuto glanced up at him and back to the painting. “Of course,” he swallowed before continuing. “I have you to thank for my job.”

“I didn’t do it for your job,” he heard Akaashi speak. Bokuto bit his lip. This wasn’t an ideal position for them to have this conversation.

“Then… why?” Bokuto asked.

“I should ask why you decided to destroy the portrait of me.”

“That… That’s because the person I painted wasn’t you,” Bokuto answered. “I didn’t want it to be the work I submitted.”

“I see…” Akaashi said. He had the same amused expression on his face as he had when he saw the portrait unveiled to him. “It’s just the opposite of what Prometheus did.” Bokuto paused his work to listen. “In your disgust at your creation, you opted to destroy it. Such is the mind of a creator.” There was a wry smile playing on Akaashi’s lips.

“It wasn’t disgust,” Bokuto contradicted him. “It was… a lack of attachment more like.”

“How come?” Akaashi cocked his head ever so slightly, his pose still undisturbed.

“Because my subject wasn’t aware of being painted,” Bokuto smiled, finally deciding to meet Akaashi’s gaze. Surprise flickered there, and then mirth.

“That better be a good portrait then.”

“It will be.”

They were able to finish a good amount of the portrait in that afternoon before Akaashi grew tired of posing. Bokuto was about to offer to go to the beach again but stopped when Akaashi headed straight for his room. ‘Maybe he doesn’t forgive me quite yet,’ Bokuto thought with a sigh, only for those thoughts to end when Akaashi asked him to have dinner in his room, especially since the dining table was out of use. It was a relief to see Akaashi engaged with him in conversation. The book of “Greek Legends and Myths” were still on the nightstand where Bokuto had left it. And somehow, with Mikoto out for two weeks, Bokuto felt as if he wanted to stay in that manor forever.

Before going straight to his room, he decided to pass by the dining room to look at the portrait again. He had worked fast, completing a few days’ work in just one day. The sensation of not wanting to leave was even stronger and Bokuto felt a hard lump in his throat. He walked briskly past the dining room when a small voice whispered in the back of his head: ‘Turn around.’

Bokuto spun around and caught sight of Akaashi standing in the far end of the room. Only, he was pale and almost transparent, and wearing an elaborate suit. Bokuto blinked once and then the vision was gone.

[citoyenneangele]

Les Mis in Bernese (Swiss Les Mis part 3)

The most interesting finding I had during my research at the library was a script of Les Mis in Bernese German (Bärndütsch), a Swiss German dialect, my native language kind of.

I found this extremely fascinating, to read a story that means so much to me, in particular a version of it that is very close to the original in many quotes, in my local language. It was without a doubt a very particular experience for me, enriching in many ways.

This script was written by Ueli Bichsel in the occasion of a open air theatre production in the Bernese old town in 2011.

Sadly it was pretty hard to find actual footage of the show after 9 years, since many of the things are no longer available on the internet after such a long time. This sadly also includes the photos that the theatre company uploaded.

Here is a partly reconstructed version of the website, that does include some aspects of it, like the introduction to the play and the cast, but sadly no photos :(

Here is one of the few pictures I found on the internet a few months ago, featuring probably Javert and Gavroche

here is a little exctact of the play featuring Valjean’s dispair, a fair in Montreuil, the Thenardiers, Cosette and the other 2 kids, possibly Fantine...

The way this video is arranged makes me suspect there would be a whole recording, to which I sadly don’t have access, but this video just focuses on the woman who plays the accordeon.

Besides that the only file I have access too is a a few scenes that were featured in a christian tv show which you can find here. It is a portrait of the woman who did the co-direction of the production. The portrait starts at about 5mins in. It features besides the portait of Nathalie Trachsel also some behind the scenes clips from the rehearsals, also some scenes from the actual play: Javert upon Valjean’s release, Valjean and the Bishop, Fantine dying, Javert confronting; then after a break The Amis shouting “to the barricades!” (in particular Combeferre, Feuilly, and Enjolras (the guy with the red cravat), them building the barricade, the first attack, Gavroche shooting the sergeant and Gavroche dying, Valjean releasing Javert.

Now let me tell you about the particularities of this play and its adaptional choices:

The language: as I already said, this is the first time I hear and read Les Mis in my native dialect. It is a very poetic form of it using many specific Bernese terms of vocabulary, that I would probably not use on everyday basis.

The script is specifically designed for the square in the old town where it was realised in 2011. Multiple references concerning the nearby streets are being made. Also the actual cathedral of Bern, giving the square its name, is being integrated, as the seat of the Bishop of Digne. I think they invested also some part of the introduction to the play by stating that all of this could also have happened right here, in these streets, which is a pretty powerful message.

The play includes multiple dreamlike sequences, that also explain multiple cast of Valjean. The first dream is kind of a nightmare that Valjean has during his first night after prison where he sleeps on the stone bench which resumes the ordeal he experienced since his conviction for stealing bread (featuring various Valjean-actors at different stages of his life). The next one is the one where everyone surrounds Fantine and wants money from her after her dismissal. Another dreamscene is the internal debate that Valjean experiences after learing about the “trial of the applethief”, where multiple actors represent the different voices in Valjean’s head (Madeleine’s self who doesn’t want to give up his freedom and doesn’t want to give his town up and do good there instead, even if this means breaking with the past, Fantine who insists that he has to save her daughter and thus can’t go in prison, the apple thief who doesn’t want to go to prison for life in his place, the Bishop who wants him to stay with the truth...). The last dreamscene is the near-death experience Marius has after the barricade which is very similar to the finale of the 2012 film which it predates, except that they are actually not singing the finale but the regular Do You Hear The People Sing in (standard) German.

Another particularity is the insert of Javert as some sort of narrator that comments basically the entire story from his point of view. This is particularly interesting because this Javert seems to me more omniscient than I expect actual Hugolian Javert to be. And since there is no story without a narrator, this play ends with Javert’s suicide.

Generally the book seems to have been an important source of information, many of the dialogues are directly taken from Hugo

The influence of the musical is there and reaches also to the point of the already anticipated inclusion of a song into the play. But there are some part of influences that also make me think of other versions, in particular some dialogue seems to be directly taken from 2000 Les Mis (conversation about the cause from Marius and Enjolras)

Marius is a Republican (and sadly partially rude to Gavroche)

Javert tries to hire Gavroche to spy on the Musain, and the latter takes the money, but later uses this against Javert

Gavroche kills the artillery sergeant and not Enjolras, and gets killed while rejoicing his success

preparation for the barricade is featured

In general I have to say that I enjoyed reading this very much as it was really a well done adaptation from how I can tell this. Very detailed.

I am gonna keep a copy of this script. So if you have questions or would have to see something more in detail, just ask ;)

Click on read more to see the detailed summary.

Before the actual script several interesting documents are included

So the very first page is a letter that the director wrote to one of the actors in the play (he plays Le Noir, a elderly revolutionary, who gets a few lines of one of the unnamed workers of the Faubourg that Hugo quotes). He makes an excuse that it took so long, but they had to edit some things because there were not enough male actors for all the roles, so they had to change a few male roles into female roles, and they are also considering where someone may take over multiple roles.

Then we have a list of all the roles with the respective actors who played them. Some roles are still open, and marked with a question mark, as this list was made before the rehearsals actually took place

Next up we have a plan of the rehearsals, with days and hours and everything... interestingly enough they took place at a location that I personally know, so that is very meaningful for me.

Then follows the actual script. The title is Les Misérables - fate, death and love. The translation is by Ueli Bichel, last edited by Marlise Oberli-Schoch, in 2010.

Prologue

Valjean enters from one of the side streads, is poorly clothed, unshaved, lies on a stone bench and sleeps.

Valjean has a nightmare. so there is a scene within the scene. Which explains the quantity of Valjeans that are employed. Like the Madeleine's self, they appear to the actual Valjean actor in the dreams. In this particular dream sequence Valjean is sentenced to 5 years galleys. While both Valjean and his sister Jeanne beg for mercy (because he tried to work but that was not enough to feed all 8 of them, and parents are dead and so on...)  the judge has none of this because the LAW.

Valjean2 is sentenced to more prison and other... corrective measures

Valjean 3 and 4 are sentenced to more prison and other unhuman treatment. Javert appears and lets the prisoners to be chained together. They go away

Javert has a monologue about Valjean. Basically he knows that we will say that this sentence is inhuman and that arresting people like JVJ causes more misery since he is the breadwinner of his family etc. But the law is clear and shall not be questioned. He is not in the position to judge the law, and he is also not responsible for the existence of criminals. His duty is it to find out about crimes and to fight them and to deliver criminals to their rightful punishment. He also gives Valjean his passport and tells him what he has to do and what happens if he breaks is parole...and then Javert speaks to the public and talks about how Valjean cried after his first conviction, and how he now doesn't show any feelings anymore. Wonders what happened to his soul.

A woman called Delacroix wakes Valjean up and asks him what he is doing here, why he sleeps on a stone bench and why he is not going to a inn. He says he was rejected everywhere. She gives him a tip and indicates... the actual cathedral that is on that square in Bern where the theatre takes place.

Image/Act 1

Valjean knocks at the cathedral door. First Magloire with Baptistine, then the Bishop come out. While the women are scared the Bishop approaches Valjean without fear  and calmly. greets him with a blessing. Valjean tells him who he is and that he has nowhere to stay, that they didn't let him in even in the prison and so on.... Bishop invites him. JVJ continues to talk about his yellow passport. and is surprised that he wants to take him in ... more conversation of this kind. Bishop says it is not his home, it is the home of jesus, that the door ask not how the one is called who comes in, that is asks if one has hunger or thirst.... Says Valjean come sfrom a place where lots of sad things exists, a place full of hatred and anger against the peple, you have the right to mercy. When you go from here with a benevolence, and thoughts of freedom, a penitent sinner and a peaceful man, then you are worth more than anyone of us. Lets him sleep there.[

Magloire has a panic attack because the silver is missing and what else terrible could have happened. The gendarmes bring the arrested Valjean back.The entire conversation about how the bishop exonerates Valjean, by saying he gave him the silver and why didn't he take the candlesticks... And tells him to become a honest man, that he no longer belongs to evil...Javert as narrator again comments the whole scenery and does not believe that Valjean can become a good person in such a short time. Because once a prisoner, always a  prisoner.

almost to prove Javert's judgement  the next scene is Petit Gervais, but with a girl called Odette, Valjean tears his ticket

Image/Act 2

there is some kind of fair with music and dancing and market, and all kinds of shows. Javert is there, Thenardier is in his inn, Mme T. is there too... Thenardier boasts about how he, sergeant Thenardier, saved a General in Waterloo with lots of overdramatic details People in the audience have mixed feelings about his narration. While someone is totally impressed, someone else has heard other things about this "ghoul". The Thenardiers have first names (Justin and Rose) They have a discussion about their newest visitor and how they can rip him off the best. Make some remarks about his job as a innkeeper that remind me distantly of Master of the house in the musical. Javert has a conversation with Mme T. about Cosette. Then a conversation about Javert, who is new in town. and once they know where he wants to go (the police prefecture) they suddenly ask lower prizes.

So apparently the Thenardiers are in the same place here as Javert, and thus probably also Fantine and Valjean..

Javert arrives at the police. there is a captain Bovet, who is currently ridiculously eating a sandwich and is not bothered by Javert's arrival until he says who he is, i.e. the new police inspector, and he keep telling him that he is not behaving the way he is supposed to according to the official instructions. He wants to see the mayor immediately. On the way, Javert has a conversation with Bovet about how much more clean it is here and how much less crimes there will be here than in Paris. Bovet says that is due to the glass manufacture that the life in Montreuil has never been better. He asks him if he wants to see it. He says, first the mayor. Whom does the factory belong to? To the mayor. He first worked as worker, but after the bankruptcy of the former owner he bought the entire factory six years ago. Javert thinks then it is even better if they first go and see the mayor, when he seems to be the driving force in this town. Bovet says, yes, but also that he is kinda extraordinary, eccentric, well very shy. He lives like an eremit, retired and alone. He even did not want to be elected, he had rejected to be mayor at first. The people think he is abit crazy, but Bovet thinks he is sympathetic and yet he has a bit of pity for him because he is so lonely. A very short, very formal visit at Madeleine's house, where for some reason a soldier is watching, and asking the mayor to come. The scene concludes with Javert-narrator wondering from where he knows this man, finds it weird that this man does not show any interest in the prefect of police (excuse me what are you now, Javert, prefect, inspector, officer? I have lost the overview in this play), wonders if he has something to hide, himself, his face, his voice, a movement, his language....

a woman called Ducret approaches Madeleine, and tells her about one of the girls at the factory, that she has not spoken to ehr yet, but everything indicates that she has a child. Madeleine asks if she is a whore. He only does not want that his workers are captured by moral disintegration. Ducret then suggests to dismiss her. Madeleine trust upon her judgement, and says in this case she shall give her 50 francs and send her away. Ducret has a conversation with Fantine which starts with innocent smalltalk and ends with her being dismissed. 

basically Fantine is in a state of powerlessness and everyone wants money from her and threatens her.  (The Thenardiers, the landlord the renter of furniture, the letter writer...) Fantine breaks down.

a woman called Françoise who offers haircuts, wigs and teeth, buys Fantine's hair. 

Whores in front of the Thenardier's inn and apparently Mme T. is there too, singing (apparently not being a whore). and Javert and Bovet are there too, about how they are being more and more... Two guys called Rambone and Savioni are harassing Fantine who looks worse than the other whores, and Fantine defends herself  tries to kick one of them in the eggs ^^ When Javert comes the men disappear... 

Javert arrests Fantine and as a narrator he makes a comment in which he says very clearly what he thinks about her (I am not gonna repeat that here though), but basically she is very criminal and is treating good and honorful citizens of this town badly and this can not be tolerated. She breaks down and asks him for mercy because Cosette, you know, but of course Javert doesn't care. So she breaks down and coughs even more...

 Madeleine intervenes, Fantine attacks Madeleine, who only wants Javert to release her, but Fantine thinks Madeleine is responsable for all her misery and spits at him. Madeleine says he know what happened, the men are at fault and should be punished, not she. But she insulted the mayor. But the mayor says that this is his business and not the justice's. The whole Javert-Valjean argument about Law and who has what competences Fantine is free. Madeleine wants to pay her debts and bring her daughter back and make that she can live a worthy life again. Fantine faints, and Valjean says to the soldiers to bring her to the hospital

Fauchelevent's incident with the cart. Involves various inhabitants of the town called Toutou, Zidane, Josephine, Fabienne, and Rahel Javert is there too, and in the end of the chapter he is sure that Madeleine has to be 24601

Fantine is deadly ill, Madeleine wants to bring Cosette before she dies 

Javert demands to be dismissed, featuring detailed description by Javert on the points where he thought to have recognized Valjean (and reading this script in its entirety makes me realise mistakes that they didn't. For instance here he still stole from a boy (i.e. Petit Gervais and not Odette). Equally detailed description of the apple thief, and who recognized him as Valjean. Mention about the trial the next day. Madeleine says he can leave. Javert insists to be dismissed. Madeleine says, rather than dismissed he'd need to be promoted, he appreciates him as the dutifuly man of honor that he is. Javert has another monologue that how each time when he arrested someone and mercilessly judged him, he told himself "help me god that you will never stumble", And now he stumbled and needs to accuse himelf. It is about justice, the law asks for an example. Valjean just says we'll see. 

dreamlike sequence. Features different actors that represent the different voices in Valjean's head.

Bishop: tells him to go his way. And stand to his identity, to lie would be very wrong, he promised to do no wrong anymore.

Apple thief: blames him for making him his substitute, the one who needs to suffer in his place

Madeleine's self: is relieved that Javert is no longer going after him. Valjean no longer exists. This was god's will. God wants me to do more good here, to be an example for others, everything else is destiny. And for that I need to stay the mayor who gives food to the ppor and makes that the orphans get good education. He shall break the candlesticks as he shall break with the past. He shall forget about the bishop. And also this apple thief is a criminal, he shall be in prison.

Fantine: asks when she will finally see Cosette, he owes her a lot for all the injustice she has suffered because of him. She doesn't think the apple thief wil be a better person but he will be an example for her child. He shall save Cosette who is suffering because she is mistreated by the Thenardiers

Valjean wakes up and tells Arnaud to leave for Arras.

Image/Act 3

again no trial scene, just a summary of a very angry Javert who wants to go after Valjean NOW, as he humiliated him

Fantine dying. Javert confronting Valjean and making respectless remarks to both Valjean and Fantine. Valjean in turn accuses Javert of having killed Fantine. Valjean attacks Javert with a chair so that he can pay his last respect to the dead Fantine. Then says to Javert that now he is at his command. Javert makes another extremely unnecessary stupid comment. Valjean approaches Javert and stretches out his hands, as Javert wands to bond them, he knocks Javert down and escapes 

Valjean sees Cosette and wants to help her carry the bucket of water home to ther mother. Cosette says she has no mother, thinks she never had one, that she brought her and never picked her up again. Valjean asks if she lives alone. She says, almost, Monsieur and Madame are only beating her. Realizes she is Cosette, says he wants to stay in the inn for the night, she shall show her the way. They talk about the two other children, Popine and Zelma, who never have to work and have beautiful dolls, and always are allowed to play, while she has to work all day and is not allowed to play as the two other kids don't let her. Only sometimes she is allowed to play, when she is done. But she has nothing to play with. She once played with one of the dolls but then Madam beat her. But she has a small sabre of tin with which she dissects leaves and rainworms

Usual Thenardier-inn conversations, in particular the one about the missing bread, the lost money, that Valjean miraculously finds, Valjean buying the work she'd have to do,  (socks), he buys her a doll in a nearby shop, the whole negotiation about Cosette, including Thenardier insisting to see a passport. Valjean saying he doesn't have any, it is not required here. If he takes Cosette with him they won't know his name or his address, they will break down all the bridges behind them . However he has the letter of Fantine. They leave quickly.

Here the Thenardiers don't go after him, they just regret that they didn't make more money

another Javert-narrator monologue, about the dangerous criminal that escaped him and that now also has an innocent girl in his hands. He searched with 36 men and 6 dogs but he is like disappeared from this world. He felt so bad wehn he told the police minister about this development. But the latter did not seem to be that interested, talked about social misery, about shortcomings in the health system. Told him about the beggars, the neglected, from the small criminals who kill another man for bread, about big criminals who in hordes rob reputable citizens, he shall not chase a phantom. But our dear Javert is obsessed with said phantom and doesn't want him to escape. He wants to follow his trace until he has him on (no, not under) the guillotine. He is coming to Paris, not for the miserables, for whom he does not care that much, but for Valjean!

Image/Act 4

Gavroche singing a song about Paris in the time text, yet missing

a coin falls on the square (no idea from where), an entire bunch of poor children and teenagers fight upon it. Gavroche, the most streetwise/smart/crafty of them takes it, and escapes, the other children behind him, he gets caught by Javert, the other children disappear Javert treats him badly and takes the money away from him. When he asks Gavroche for his name, he asks Javert back, but he doesn't seem to be interested in reavealing his identity.  But then Gavroche tells him his name, because he told him that there are many like him. And he insists that he, gavroche is unique. So basically Javert recruits Gavroche to spy on the Café Musain "because there are things happening that are of big significance for the state and the city", and Gavroche says yes, because he gave him money. Javert wants to know who is there, what they speak about and what they intend to do.

The students and workers in the Café Musain discuss the situation and Javert spies on them. The people is agitated, one fears that there will be a revolution, a uprising of the miserables Grantaire (who is absent in an older version of the script) declares that he only wants to drink and forget about life, a stupid invention without purpose. Bahorel and Joly have a conversation about Bahorel's lover Feuilly talks about Roman Gods (apparently we now have a Jehan Feuilly or is that a Feuilly Prouvaire or whatever?) Grantaire has a monologue about what they consume in different cities, and harrasses the waitress. Courfeyrac doesn't want any kings anymore and does not like the charter, thinks she belongs to the fire. Enjolras comes in with Marius, presents the latter as a friend of his who want to join them. Marius is a republican and declares that he wants to fight for the republic with all his force, however he hopes it won't get that far that he'll need to give is life. But he prefers to do so rather than life under a tyran (suspicously similar to 2000 dialogue if you ask me) They sing the Marseillaise until Louison tells them to stop, because she does not want the police to shut down her pub. Yes, apparently she now is an innkeeper too.

Outside the café: chaingang. Valjean with Cosette watching. The conversation between the two that ends with Cosette saying "If one of them would cross my way, I think I would die... Dad, what are galleys?" Valjean wants to leave. Marius sees her and wants to follow her, but loses her in the crowd. Goes after Gavroche instead and handles him pretty rudely  (Sorry Marius, but this is not how you do it). Basically he tells him to find an angel. Gavroche then is just like "but does this angel have white wings?" Marius instead gives him a detailed description of Cosette and her goldbrown hair and white dress, and how velvet her look is and how silky smooth her lips ar and everything... 

They are back to the Musain Combeferre says all the workers have to swear that they go to the streets at the first alarm and fight Feuilly says he can be sure, they fight. But the students have to pave the way. We workers fight, and even if there are as many enemies, we'll fight Feuilly says they are 300 already (oukei, now I am really impressed) Bahorel is convinced that in 14 days they will be as strong as the government i.e. 25000 Bossuet declares he doesn't go to bed, he makes cartridges. Feuilly wants to fight. now. Enjolras says first they need to have weapons Courfeyrac insists that the soldiers do have weapons. Le Noir has the "either for the people or against the people speech" that is more or less an exact translation of the speech that one of the revolutionaries in the Faubourg has in the preparations chapter. Gavroche comes, announces Lamarque's death Combeferre: what? Lamarque? The courageous freedomfighter, our advocate? Now we have resist on our own! Away with the government! Feuilly: we overturn the government! To the barricades! Enjolras: it is about us! now its about everything! at his funeral - to the barricade!

Valjean and Cosette in the garden. They are considering to move again. Cosette: we are changing houses like we are changing names. Valjean is like "I know that must be weird for you, but one day you will understand". Valjean goes inside. Marius is with Cosette (Gavroche led him here, for money), lots of poetic blablabla, and <3<3<3, and you know, Marius shows her handkerchief and ask if it is hers, she says yes. In the end Valjean calls her. Says he keeps the handkerchief as a pledge 

The "Thenardier Gang" (yes that is how they are called nowadays) sets out to rob Valjean's house. Eponine tries everything that they don't. In the end she succeeds.. Claquesous blames not only her but also the sight of 2 fighting sparrows and a black cat during the day. Cosette tells Marius they are leaving for England and probably won't come back. Cosette says Marius he should follow them, but Marius says he has no money. He says e won't come tomorrow, only the day after, and also he dies if she leaves. Marius says they have to renounce on each other for 1 day, but maybe they'll win life. Marius tells her the address. or more precisely he graves it into the wall, says he lives with Courfeyrac. when he is gone, Valjean decides they need to leave immediately, he has seen people that don't please him and Paris is bubbling, they have no choice...

Image/Act 5 (named the revolution)

So basically Lamarque's funeral has already happened. And many of the poor have paid him their last respects. Then the subversive slogans suddenly caused the troops of the king to attack people. People are kinda angry and meet up in front of the Musain. Courfeyrac finds a group of workers who come from the funeral, but luckily have not been among those who were attacked by the dragoons (ah, they are not called dragons, good to know :)), but are very angry, Courfeyrac tells them to go inside they can use people like them. Bossuet speaks with a worker from another group, who has a grazing shot in the arm, but doesn't care, they discuss about their weapons Feuilly asks a working woman what she wants. She says: to fight. Show them up there that they push back against that. Feuilly approves. Another worker has no weapon but would fight if he had one. Bossuet tells him he should provide himself one. Worker sets out to pillage a armorer. Everyone in the crowd shares rumors about what happened, and the Thenardier and Claquesous are awaiting happy times. And Babet also. Extraordinary mention to Combeferre declaring this is the best day of his life. They start building a barricade and undercover Javert has made his appearance.

Eponine tells Marius Cosette has left, apparently without leaving a sign. Marius is heartbroken and wants to die on the barricade at any cost. Which again upsets Eponine because she loves him 

Inside Musain. Enjolras wants to know what is happening. Courfeyrac says the rumors are very contradictory and it is hard to tell what is truth and what is a lie. Lots of army, people is building barricades everywhere. Barricade is growing and more people are there. Gavroche comes over the barricade. Asks a worker who has the command. One who's called Enjolras. He wants to know if he is a general. Worker says no, the generals are on the other side. We are only brothers. Gavroche says Enjolras he wants to volunteer. Wants to send him to the ambulance. But Gavroche wants a gun. But Enjolras wants to arm first the men, then the women and only then the children. Gavroche leaves and comes back. Tells Courfeyrac and Enjolras there is a problem and draws their attention on Javert, and tells them how he offered him money to spy on them. For some reason he now knows his name. They arrest Javert  and by binding him on the post at the entrance they want to show a warning to anyone who dares to betray them 

they are awaiting the 1st attack Combeferre sees someone approaching. Enjolras says don't shoot, we know who it is. Bossuet says it's Gavroche. Gavroche wants his gun. who's there- french revolution. The whole Mabeuf thing except that they really present him as an ancient assemblyman who was "at the convent" (which is here not meant the place where nuns are, but the convention, which is apparently called convent in german for some reason). Javert gets another weird narrator-monologue where he denounces the stupidity of the students who throw their lives away and those of the workers because they always think you can change the world all of a sudden. And how they don't have a chance as badly equipped as they are against so many more well trained soldiers. That has to end badly. Either they die in the hail of bullets or "they are beheaded on the guillotine" (ok apparently this Javert has a guillotine obsession but doesn't know how such a thing works ) Javert goes back into the scenery where Joly reminds him that he will be next... The whole first attack plus Marius wants to blow the barricade up, and thus saves it, and asks for the leader, and Enjolras says its Marius. But all Marius wants is to be alone for a moment

Eponine dies and Marius discovers that Cosette still is in Paris 

they sing and women bring food, they reprepare the weapons, basically drink with me mode I guess... Marius writes his letter to Cosette and asks Gavroche to bring it. Gavroche doesn't want to miss the next attack and thinks he shall wait... Marius insists that he has to leave now, that they won't attack until tomorrow. And then it will be too late to go because all the streets are closed. Gavroche goes. 

It is night and they are trying to rest. One starts to sing the "Song of the Revolution (Musical)" and then the others join in. Combeferre and Gavroche come back. Gavroche has a bag of cartridges with him. Gavroche asks what is going on with them. Here no one sleeps anymore. The whole army of Paris is around etc. (basically what Enjolras says in the book divided between Gavroche and Combeferre) The whole we'll stay and build the barricade higher, conversation, and the uniform conversation, except it is reduced to the essential and Combeferre doesn't get to say anything, it is all Enjolras, in between Marius asks Gavroche who told him to come back. He says he delivered the letter "to the gatekeeper" Valjean comes with the 5th uniform, the 5 leave. Enjolras cares for Javert. Javert recognizes Valjean and says he's gonna have it easy now. Gavroche announces their arrival. A cannon is being heard, like it being rolled there. Cannon attack. 2 people die. Enjolras says this was a grapeshot, and that they needs to stop this cannon, i.e. that it needs to be "fireworker"'s turn. Gavroche says he takes that over. Before anyone can prevent him from doing so, he is up on the barricade and shooting. he hit his target, and is all excited and rejoicing about how he "blew out his lamp", that he evidently forgot that he is standying on a freaking barricade. This causes him to be also shot, of course, and he falls down dead right into the arms of Combeferre.

Enjolras says to all that the last one alive shall shoot the spy. Valjean asks Enjolras if he can crush this man's skull with his own hands, and since no one has objectsions he lets him. Final attack is announced by both Marius and horns. (yes another Hernani flashback for Autumn  ) . Everyone goes to the barricade Valjean and Javert alone. Valjean frees Javert with the mention of the promise he made to the bishop of Digne to never do anything unjust. And killing him because he did his duty as a policman here today, or because he followed him his entire life would be wrong. And if he against the expectance should make it out of here alive he can find him in Rue de l'homme armé. Javert says he hates this kind of games, he shall rather kill him. Valjean tells him to leave. He shoots in the air and goes back to the others where he says he is done. Heavy shooting happens. One after the other the defendants of the barricade die. Valjean does stay at the background and doesn't shoot on the soldiers, yet he supports the defendants of the barricade. he realizes that Marius was hit and falls from the barricade. Valjean goes to him. And whereever he looks there are just dying or dead "revoluzzers" (yes, this is the word he uses in the script, not revolutionaries or something like that). During the very last attack on the barricade he carries Marius away from the barricade and can escape with him  to the sewers. The soldiers pull the flags of the revolution out and plant the flag of the monarchy (whatever "the flag of the monarchy" may be)

Image/Act 6

We are in the sewers now. Barely conscious Valjean falls down on a sleeping Thenardier at the gate that leads out of the sewers who thinks he has made the great gain. and of course wants to steal from them. and comments this in a monologue this is observed by Javert. And of course now Thenardier is all about helping these people, if they aren't dead yet etc. Javert says him just to back off, calling him by his name. Thenardier insists to help, but he says he shall just leave. Valjean gets back his conscience and checks if Marius is still alive, wants to lift him up again, then sees Javert and lets him down again. But Javert just asked him if he needs help. Valjean says to Javert he hasn't given him the address , so that je can escape. Javert wants to know who that man is. And reminds Valjean what happened to those who were on the barricade. Valjean says he survives if he gets help quickly. He is a daredevil, an idealist, but a good person and he can do many good things yet for our country. Please let for once in your life reign mercy before law. Javert insists that he is dead Valjean says not yet. Insists that he needs to save Marius and then he says he'll come back They arrange a meeting at the same place at the same hour the next day.

Marius lies in the middle of the open square between Barricade and inn scenery. There is only the bed and Toussaint that cares ffor him and Cosette that is looking over him. Marius has a fever dream and is near death when they sees all the friends including Gavroche and eponing with the revolutionary flags and singing "The song of the barricade" climbing on the barricades. It is the german DYHTPS (Lied des Volkes), arranged kinda like the finale in the movie that came out notabene after this thing here. Basically Marius is convinced that they came to lead him to heaven, but in the end they get fainter again and in the end of the scene Marius is alive and awake  and with cosette.

Javert derailed made by Javert-narrator which linguistically resembles the confusion of Javert Valjean comes in in the middle of that and says "here I am" Javert halfway awakens from his trance, makes a step towards Valjean, holds his pistol agains Valjean for 2 seconds, then he turns around makes two steps back and holds it against his head. Light goes out. Shot. 

THE END.

[nathan-livingston-hnd1c]

Seeing the Light Evaluation

9th December 2020

What was the project theme and what did you think of it?

The theme for our first brief for foilo one was Seeing the Light it was a portrature based brief i found it a bit akward at first becasue we were in lockdown when the brief was given to the class so it thought that it would be difficult reaching out to people to include in my final images but on the other hand i had lots of different locations near where i live and within Glasgow City Centre that i wanted to depict when it came to shooting my final portraits. 

What part of the project did you enjoy the most? (Making the photographs, editing, optimising, printing?)

The part that i enjoyed the most was the pre production part. While i was doing my reasrch for the Brief i came across a really intresting social documentry photographer named Rob Bremner he is originally from wick and his most notable photography work is his portraits of the working class men and women on the streets of Vauxhall and Everton, Liverpool in the late 1980s. 

What i like the most about bremner’s work is the ambient light source that is depicted in alot of his portaits. 

Mostly i love the nostalgia and the image quality in a lot of Bremners early Portraits, they give you a strong idea of what working class britain was like during that particular era. 

His work can be found on Social Media and on various photography journals myself and Rob both follow each other on Instagram. 

Here is a portrait example by Rob Bremner.

photo https://www.google.co.uk/url?sa=i&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.dazeddigital.com%2Fbeauty%2Fmasculinity%2Fgallery%2F27840%2F0%2F80s-liverpool-lads-by-rob-bremner&psig=AOvVaw3LrmOOpZ34tzj55gg2QNoM&ust=1607611491070000&source=images&cd=vfe&ved=0CAIQjRxqFwoTCJCfhdKRwe0CFQAAAAAdAAAAABAa

What new techniques have you experienced?

During the first few weeks of the brief the class were given the oppertunity to come into the HND studio every thursday etheir on the morning or the afternoon and we were introduced to a new range of studio lighting techniques and we were put into groups of two or three students and we took portraits of each other using a different lighting technique each session.

I also experienced a new range of composition techniques when it came to shooting my final portraits i took portaits using a range of different viewpoints of one of my models in Glasgow Green.

I also learned more about the different file types that is commonly used when it comes to the post production stage of my final selection of images.

What new technique would you like to develop further?

I would definetly like to futher develop the techniques that is used within the studio and this is for all of my projects i feel that i am struggling to understand the process of studio lighting. 

i feel that it might also be benefical if i did some more reaserch into this. 

What new photographers did you reaserch for this project?

Other than Rob Bremner i investigated another photographer called Kevin Cummins. 

Kevin Cummins is a well known portrait photographer in the Manchester music scene and has taken both individual and group based portraits of Artists and bands such as Joy Division, Morrissey, Oasis, Stone Roses etc. 

What i like the most Cummins work is his black and white style and his choice of locations in which he shoots his music portraits they are often shot within the run down parts of Manchester. 

Kevin Cummins work can be found on his website and on Instagram.

https://www.instagram.com/kcmanc/

http://www.kevincummins.co.uk/biography.php

How have they influenced your photographs?

I feel that a lot of Rob Bremners work influenced my final Photographs in terms of natrual lighting but not so much by choice of locations for my final images. 

I took portraits of Ryan Baston at Glasgow Green back in early october and my final images have a mixture of both dim and harsh sunlight. 

What new technique did you enjoy the most?

The techniques that i enjoyed the most was optimising my final images, i used Adobe Lightroom to edit my final selcetion of portraits i made variations of the same image in different colours using the colour channel mixer and i made adjustments to the contrast and exposure. 

Did you encounter any problems in your project?

alothough i enjoyed the pre production stage of the Brief when it came to the production of my final photographs i felt that things did not go the way i had hoped they would for various reasons. 

Because of the Covid 19 situation i was struggling to get people who would be willing to be photographed due to social restrictions and my options were limited to only two people which were a family member and a student who i worked with last year when i was studying photography at NQ level. 

One of my chosen locations was at Kelvingrove Park and my decision was to approch skateboarders at Kelvingrove Skate Park and ask them if they would like to be photographed however i felt very intimidated by the idea of doing this so i made the concious decision not to approch them. 

I also encountered a lot of technical issues in terms of lens choice. I only had my 10 - 22 mm wide angle lens to shoot from home but i was then given the oppertunity to borrow a set of 50 - 105mm zoom lens form the college which turned out to be a much better lens choice for shooting portaits. 

I also had an issue with my own laptop. during the process of optimising my images my laptop got a virus and i was not able to download Photoshop, Lightroom and Bridge so i put in a request to borrow a laptop from the college and while i was waiting to get one i used the Macs in the library to continue with the coursework. 

How did you learn from them and how did they affect your final images?

I learned a lot about the type of lens that would be the best choice to shoot my final portraits with this was because i ended up using a verity different lenses for everyting i shot for this project. 

I think my final images were affected a lot by the different focal lengths that was used with the various sets of lenses, but also when it came to optimising my images and saving them as Jpeg files i strugglged to save them in full resolution of 300 ppi this was because some of the images i chose to submit were badly cropped. 

What would you do differently given the chance to complete the project again?

I would give myself more time to orginise my photoshoots and make arrangements with people were happy for me to photograph by starting the production process a lot sooner in the time we were given to complete the project. 

even though i had a lot of nice locations in mind i felt that i left it a bit too late in the duration of the project to get my final shots completed. 

Discuss any technical issues with your final images? (Focus, Sharpness, exposure/highlight, shadow, detail etc)

When it came to shooting for my final seeing the light portaits some of my images were out of focus this my have been because i was rushing through the shooting process.

Some of my images turned out to be quite dark so i had to make adjustments to the exposure using Adobe Lightroom. 

I was also using flash for some of my images. 

Going deeper; if you were asked to complete a project using this technique, what would you do? What new ideas would you have? This may be explained as a visual, drawing, sketch, photograph...you decide on how you present this section?

I would like to complete a location based still life project with the use of ambient lighting, someone i follow on social media has already shot something similar, he did a outdoor product photography shoot using a bottle of pure gin as his subject choice. 

The final image includes the sunset as a natrual light source.

I would like to do something similar to this but with green goblin glasses which i have at home as my subject choice, i would like to see how the sunlight bounces off from the objects. 

This is a project which can be easily done at home.

[mask131]

More of the Addams extended family! A series of comic strips by Charles Addams

As I mentionned previously, the Addams family was implied to be bigger than the eight characters we know already. Around them were a series of weird, creepy, recurring characters, either friends of the family or distant members.

For example, the famous Cousin It, that appears for example in picture 2, mereley as “It”. As you can see, he was originally this huge mass of hair - but later evolved into a small hairy dwarf with glasses.

Or the “Wall-Eyed Couple” that appears in several strips, such as picture 3, where Grandmama visits them. Their nature as a couple is confirmed by the fact they had a child, a two-headed boy, each head bearing the features of a specific parent. (I also think this is implied to confirm a blood link with the main Addams family because, as we saw, they have a thing for two-head beings). Also, the wallpaper of the room corresponds to the wallper of the It scene, and of a lot of Fester scenes, and is also used in many Addams mansion scenes... Does it mean they are all supposed to take place in one same building, or is it just a shared taste by all creepy people?

Picture 1 shows us a series of portraits of ancestors of the Addams family. A bearded man that looks like both the Wall-Eyed Man and Gomez. An old woman. A man identical to Uncle Fester. A man looking like Lurch (maybe Lurch is a distant relative of the Addams? Who knows! In some colorizations, him and Morticia share the same greenish skin tone). And Uncle Zander, the “black sheep”. By the way... the man she is presenting the ancestors portaits is the same man with pointy ears and nose that appeared in the “Addams feast” picture! But this strip implies that he lacks a knowledge about the Addams family... or maybe just about Morticia’s side of the family?

Picture 4 was actually the first apparition ever of the “Cocoon-thing”.

Then comes the famous “flower-haired girl” that would later inspire Ophelia, and her mother the witch. Picture 5, this strip is the one confirming their relationship - the flower-haired girl wishing to take her mother’s broom (implying she may be a witch herself). The witch, while looking a bit like Grandmama, is still wildly different - more... “dried up”, with more pointy and sharp traits, and a very different way of clothing. Same witch reappears in picture 6, where we see the aspect of the small cottage she lives in. As for the flower-haired girl she reappears in picture 8 (I couldn’t find any better quality, sorry) where a man that bears the typical “ugliness” of the Addams-family-like characters proposes to her, saying “There’s enough hate in my heart for both of us”. Note that she is standing on the porch of a wooden house, something very different from the straw-and-stone house she lives in.

Picture 7 actually shows the re-apparance of the “man with a bestial and furry” face that appeared in the “Monster Rally” illustration. I only found out later this specific strip is in fact part of a series that identify him as a sort of werewolf.

Picture 9 I originally included for the monstrous face of the man was quite similar to other beings seen near the Addams Family, but upon closer inspection I haven’t really seen anything corresponding to it. I don’t have the text that goes with the picture.

And finally picture 10, which is a recreation of the “family goes to a race” strip, but this time with just two characters, a male looking strangely like Fester but still very different, and a woman (is it me or does she appears similar to the old woman we saw among the ancestors portaits, back in picture 1?)

[konigindernachtsblog]

Bring me to life.

Se réveiller fut pour Maximus comme sortir la tête de l’eau après avoir craint la noyade. A ceci près que c’était la noyade dans le vide qu’il avait redouté. Mais le vide n’était jamais venu l’enlacer, pour une raison qu’il ignorait encore. Pourtant, il se souvenait encore clairement de la douleur qu’il avait ressentit dans la poitrine et des larmes de sa mère, face à lui, mais aussi de la voix de sa soeur criant son nom. Puis plus rien. Tout c’était arrêté. Le jeune Riddle avait lentement ouvert les yeux et fut d’abord aveuglé un court instant par une lumière claire. Il distinguait un mur de pierre, une fenêtre en vitrail encadrée de rideaux mais surtout, il aperçu une silhouette féminine vêtue de noir.

« Stay calm, dear, your body needs still to recover, as much as your mind. - Mother, souffla Maximus. Am I in the limbos… - No, love, répondit Mara doucement en venant passer sa main sur le front de son fils. You are in our new home. - What happened… ? »

Mara Riddle sourit tristement en passant tendrement la main dans les cheveux de son fils. Il se réveillait après des semaines de coma. Mina et sa mère avaient eu le temps d’organiser les obsèques de Maximus et leur fuite de Caer Oswin pour un petit Coven de sorcières. Elles n’y étaient pas restées longtemps, à cause d’Erchomai qui menaçait. Mina venait tout juste de fonder son propre Coven en Transylvanie. Elles avaient élu domicile dans un vieux château aux allures de cathédrale gothique et veillaient sur Maximus.

« As the crown was hunting you for your experiences to find and recover your father, I thought that the best alternative we had to save you was to leave Caer Oswin. To do so, I simulated your death. For everybody in the city but us, you are dead and buried near your father. - But if I am here… the tomb is empty, isn’t it ? - I made a glamour with a corpse. As soon as we buried you, we disappeared with Mina for Earth. No one knew, but Minos. - What about our manor… ? - It got emptied and burned by Minos on my orders. »

Cela faisait beaucoup à assimiler d’un coup. Maximus avait fermé les yeux au cimetière de Caer Oswin, la main de sa mère lui transperçant le torse, prête à lui broyer le coeur et il se retrouvait sur terre avec sa mère lui expliquant que tout ceci n’avait été qu’un coup monté dans l’espoir de le sauver des soupçons de la couronne. D’un côté, pourtant, ça ne l’étonnait pas. En peu de temps, lui et sa soeur en avaient beaucoup appris sur l’histoire de leurs parents avant leur naissance et avec cela, tous les stratagèmes et les cachoteries que leur mère avait dû mettre au point pour protéger leur père de sa soif de pouvoir et de ses dérives. Le jeune hybride baissa les yeux et poussa un soupir.

« You didn’t find the strength to kill me, don’t you ? Or was it just mercy ? - In my part of the family, we call it « love », Maximus. - I thought you had this word only for Minos. - Obviously not! Rétorqua Mara avant de baisser les yeux. You deserved better than the life we had in Caer Oswin, Maximus. A life where your only accomplishment would be a wedding and feeling guilty all your life for being watched by the crown on any occasion. You deserve better than running after a dead loved one… - That’s why you saved me then ? A new start. - You need time to process all of that, dear. Your sister will be relieved to hear you’re now awaken. - How is Mina… ? »

Un court silence s’installa dans la chambre où se trouvait la mère et son fils. Maximus ne savait pas pour Mina et Tristan. Ou si, du moins, sûrement s’en doutait-il fortement. Après tout, l’amour que Mina portait à Tristan depuis son jeune âge n’était pas un secret pour lui. Il n’ignorait pas non plus de l’intérêt de Tristan pour Mina, manifesté il n’y avait pas si longtemps. Ce n’était d’ailleurs pas le seul prince à convoiter la jeune Riddle.

« She is… heartbroken. But relieved that we left Caer Oswin, she was incredibly worried about the both of us, Maximus. She is now ruling a small coven, that, I am sure, will grow up quickly. She keeps learning a lot. She waited so long for you to open your eyes… It felt for her as losing her half… »

Maximus sembla d’un coup plus touché par les mots de sa mère, quand elle fit mention de sa soeur et de son possible état psychologique. Il avait été inconscient si longtemps et s’était tant perdu dans sa quête de retrouver leur père dans le vide, qu’il craignait ne plus avoir ce lien avec elle, qui faisait qu’il arrivait à ressentir les mêmes choses que sa soeur. Mina avait toujours réussi à apporter à Maximus un peu de douceur et son cours moment de retour à la raison avant sa « mort » en avait été la preuve.

« Mother… - Yes, dear ? - Do you think I can do it ? - Your father always told you you could do whatever you want and on that, I cannot disagree. You have the abilities to do what you want and to become who you want to be. The only thing I ask you Maximus, is to act with your eyes and your mind fully open. Care about the loved one you still have, use your abilities for the better. Power is attractive but is a vain fulfilment. I can bet your father hasn’t been really happy in his life and on that, I can take a part of the responsibility… - That’s what Minos understood and I didn’t… ? - Nor Minos or I would never wish you the same sad story that he got through to reach his actual level of power and wisdom, love. We all have our suffering, we all learn different things from it. The only thing I can tell you, Maximus, is I wish you could reach the same greatness as your father, without making us pay the price for it as he did. »

Il fallut quelques jours de plus pour que le jeune Riddle retrouve ses forces après avoir frôlé la mort. Mina n’avait pas encore pu le revoir, puisqu’elle avait quitté le Coven pour récupérer de nouvelles recrues. Quand finalement, elle arriva dans l’aile la plus intime de la famille au château et ôta sa capuche avant de voir son frère sur pieds, elle se hâta de le rejoindre et de le serrer dans ses bras. Maximus la rattrapa aussitôt et l’enlaça de ses bras avec force, dissimulant son visage dans ses longs cheveux doux et couleur jais. À cet instant, l’héritier Riddle sembla soulagé et triste à la fois. Il ressentait toujours les émotions de sa soeur. Maximus embrassa la tempe de Mina et s’éloigna légèrement pour prendre doucement son visage dans ses mains. De son pouce, il essuya une larme qui roulait sur sa joue.

« Maximus, souffla-t-elle encore sous l’émotion. - There is no word to describe how much I missed you… and how deeply sorry I am for what I did to you, chuchota Maximus avant de déposer un baiser sur son front. I wasn’t here to protect you when you needed me, I’ve been so blind I am ashamed… »

Il était temps de se reconstruire à l’abris des regards, libérés d’une partie de la culpabilité et d’un petit fardeau. Il restait encore beaucoup à accomplir pour souder ce qu’il restait de la famille, mais l’espoir pouvait renaître. À Caer Oswin, seul Minos Riddle savait. Pour le reste du monde, Maximus Riddle était mort et enterré, le manoir Riddle entier vidé et en cendres. Mara et Mina Riddle avaient disparu du jour au lendemain sans laisser de traces. Le dernier à avoir vu Mina était le Prince Tristan. Le temps passait et Minos Riddle devenait de plus en plus solitaire et son humeur, de plus en plus exécrable. Il perdait patience, avait davantage de mal à cacher sa rage. Il ne trouvait un peu de calme qu’au temple de la Pythie et pourtant, il s’y sentait davantage prisonnier que gardien. Sa mère et sa sœur lui manquaient. Aussi étonnant que ça puisse paraître, on l’avait vu sincèrement regretter son frère Maximus. Avec les années qui passaient, on commençait à entendre des rumeurs comme quoi la veuve et la fille de Vaine Riddle avaient certainement perdu la vie aussi, sûrement de chagrin. Pourtant, Minos Riddle était toujours là. En réalité, il disparaissait plusieurs fois dans l’année, le temps de quelques heures. Il rendait visite à sa mère et les jumeaux, que seul lui savaient encore en vie. Il avait plusieurs fois pensé à quitter son rôle et peut-être Caer Oswin, mais il n’osait pas. À Caer Oswin, il avait encore Lucrezia et Killian. Aussi, il avait promis à la Pythie quand elle n’était encore qu’une enfant, qu’il serait là pour la protéger. Or, s’il y avait bien une qualité que l’on pouvait accorder à Minos Riddle, c’était sa droiture, il ne brisait pas une promesse.

Le Coven de Mina, dans le même temps, prenait de l’ampleur. Miss Riddle était connue chez les sorcières et même respectée. On l’avait appelé « the black maiden », en raison de tous les hommes qu’elle avait gentiment rejeté. On donnait plusieurs raisons à cela. Certains disaient qu’elle dédiait sa vie à Satan et les arts occultes, d’autres, que son coeur était attaché à un amour maudit, certains, que son amant n’était autre que son propre frère. L’héritière Riddle ne prenait pas le temps de répondre aux spéculations. En quelques années, elle avait sauvé des humaines, des nécromanciennes abandonnées, sans le sou, désavouée. Cette petite ville dans les montagnes n’était pas visible par n’importe qui. Comme Gresit, il fallait avoir le désir profond de la trouver pour y parvenir. Mina était un exemple pour ces jeunes disciples, les plus jeunes qui étaient encore des enfants, la comparaient à une princesse. Les adolescentes venaient la consulter et l’admiraient.

« Why didn’t you get married ever ? Demanda une jeune amoureuse. - Sometimes the heart is a heavy burden, avait-elle répondu simplement. »

Miss Riddle n’avait pas changé physiquement, depuis son départ de la cité nécromancienne. Sa voix était toujours aussi douce, comme son regard. Sa beauté n’avait pas faibli non plus. Mais son aura manifestait davantage de sa puissance et imposait davantage, elle se limitait plus par crainte de représailles. Cependant, à l’instar de sa mère, Mara Riddle, à qui elle ressemblait énormément, elle dégageait une certaine mélancolie. Celle que Mara avait elle-même ressentit en revenant à Caer Oswin après le départ de Vaine Riddle. La douleur de l’être aimé qui ne faisait plus partie de notre vie.

« You never told me what happened, dit Maximus. »

L’héritier Riddle était assis sur un fauteuil, près de la grande cheminée où crépitait un feu. La lune était pleine et sa lumière reflétait dans les vitraux violets. Mina était assise sur le fauteuil d’à côté, le regard sur les flammes dansantes qui léchaient le bois, mais l’esprit ailleurs. Maximus entendu sa soeur poussait un soupir alors qu’elle sortait de ses pensées.

« I had a very short « intercourse » with Tristan, while we were trying to help Sin, avoua Mina. - An intercourse ? Demanda-t-il en arquant un sourcil, un peu surpris. Wasn’t he the love you wanted for life ? Your… soulmate ? - I guess I was wrong, souffla-t-elle. At least, nothing was the same when… he started to hunt you on behalf of his mother. How could I trust him ? He is, more than any other Caer Oswin’s citizen, an extension of the Queen’s eyes and hands. And then… »

Maximus pu sentir que la voix de Mina se brisa quand elle voulu poursuivre. Il tendit alors la main pour la poser sur celle de sa soeur, qui se trouvait sur l’accoudoir de son fauteuil. Cette main fine et pâle tremblait légèrement, froide comme de la porcelaine. Finalement les doigts de Mina se resserrèrent sur l’accoudoir alors qu’elle se redressait et qu’elle s’éclaircit la voix.

« You died. I didn’t know you didn’t, at that time. Mother kept it a secret until we left Caer Oswin for good. So, I was mourning the loss of my twin brother, the other half of myself… And Tristan asked me to be the witness of himself, breaking the law, to bring another necromancer back from the Void. He said that he wouldn’t be a good prince if he didn’t reunite this family and that she was a test that was full, so he couldn’t let this soul stay where she was. Now, when I think about it, I should have refused ! I could have been condemned for such an act, at least for complicity ! But I accepted, with one condition, that he wouldn’t enter in the Void ever again. I am sure he broke this promise… He couldn’t spend a day without going there, he was losing himself in it. Anyway… when he did bring back this soul… my heart shattered and I left. At this very moment, I wanted to leave him, it did hurt me deeply to see this family… while I lost so many loved ones… - Mina… - But he insisted, so I stayed… Then, mother and I left Caer Oswin, we took care of you and… we dream walked maybe once or two before I said stop. I left… Because it didn’t bring anything good to us… We couldn’t be together, I couldn’t trust him, I was suffering and it’s not the purpose of love. However, I can’t help myself but hoping that I could be still in his thoughts…When Minos come to visit us, I always hope he could have a word from him for me, but no… never… As if, nothing ever happened. I guess it is better that way… »

[gabbingaboutthedcp-blog]

Training at Cinderella’s Royal Table - DCP Seater

When I found out I was going to be working at Cinderella’s Royal Table (CRT), I literally screamed and jumped around my house. Not only was I working in the Magic Kingdom, but I am also literally inside an international icon - the Castle. There’s nothing better than walking into the dining room and overlooking Fantasyland. Or seeing the princesses walk through the dining room making magical moments for our guests. 

Training consisted of a day learning operations, a day park orientation, and four days of one the job training. 

~ Welcome to Operations ~

Welcome to Ops is a class many roles have to go through. It is a day where you go more in-depth on the four keys, and how you can apply them to your role. You also get to watch an hour-long video with Coach Andy on proper lifting technique!  If you are in food and beverage, today is the day you get to pick up your company-provided shoes!

~ Once Upon a Dream ~ 

The next matter of business will be your park orientation. This is an amazing day where you get to walk around the park before opening! You get to learn facts about the park. You also learn the locations of first aid, AEDs, restrooms, charging stations, etc. I also recommend paying close attention to the restaurants (especially if your Food and Beverage). You’ll need to know every quick service and full-service restaurant.

This is also a very exciting day because you’ll get your costume!! Word of warning, Disney sizing is very real. I was reminded multiple times that day not to let it get to me, but it still did. So if you need to go up 2-3 sizes, it’s okay. Everyone does. When you grab costumes to try on, go ahead an size up, then grab the size above and below that. This will save you a trip back to your area, and there are only a couple of dressing rooms. 

~ Day 1 On The Job Training ~

Your first day at CRT will be devoted to learning the restaurant. You get to go in before everyone and take time learning table numbers. You also learn your way around the castle, the kitchen, and the backstage areas. Then, once the restaurant opens you’ll get to practice as a seater, so seating families.  You also get a tasting panel, where you’ll try the breakfast offerings.

~ Day 2 On the Job Training ~

The first day is mentally exhausting, the second is physically exhausting. Day 2 you start as a stocker. This position is in charge of making sure the servers are fully stocked. This involves a lot of running around the kitchen and castle, constantly keeping an eye on supply levels. In the morning, it is very high stress. But dinner/PM shifts (what you’ll get mainly as a CP), are stressful for the first rotation or so, but then it calms down a lot.

The afternoon, you work as an updater.  During this position, you help wipe down tables and grab table setups (trays with 4 knives, 4 forks, 4 napkins, etc). It’s a pretty fast-paced role, as we need to turn around tables as quickly as possible for the next seating.

~ Day 3 On the Job Training ~

Day 3 was by far my favorite day! You get the most guest interaction, and it’s your first night shift - so you can see what you’ll actually be working. First, you’ll head to the podium.  This is the person outside who helps check in guests for their reservations. There’s a lot of little details that go into this position so it can be a little overwhelming at first. But once you get the routine down - it’s really fun. However, you also deal with a lot of angry guests on podium. Sometimes people want to add people to their reservation time, mark their 12-year-old as a child and get mad when they have to pay the adult cost, or even just mad that they have to wait to check in.  After you check them in, you flag if there are any allergies, birthdays, etc. and print out a wait time ticket. You’ll instruct them to head inside for their portait with Cinderella, then move on to the next guest! As this is all going, the printer will be printing tickets once a family is assigned to a table number. You take these, stamp them if necessary, and put it in a basket for the greeter.

As greeter, you’re in charge of the transition from the Cinderella picture to the dining room upstairs. You’ll collect the table number tickets and bring them up to a microphone and chime cabinet. You’ll hit the chimes and announce “Lords and Ladies of the castle, Cinderella has an invitation for the Royal ---- Family. If you heard your name please raise your hand and stay where you are.” Then you tell them to head upstairs to be seated! It’s a pretty chill role. You do have to deal with guests being mad about the wait time, but usually when you explain the situation, they are understanding. 

Finally, you head upstairs to do setups. This role is kind of monotonous, but easy. Basically, you put together about 40 table setups for a variety of table sizes (4-top, 6-top, 8-top). You’re in your own little corner, and just put the top # of forks, knives, and napkins on the trays. 

You also get a tasting panel of the dinner menu, which is DELICIOUS. The steak is my favorite :)

By far, the best part of the day is when you close the restaurant. You will practice on outside and inside closing. But - your trainer will probably have you outside during the fireworks (!!!). You get to watch them from the walkway in the castle (near the check-in area, by the Bibbidi Boppity Boutique). It’s just you and the other podium people, and it is basically a private viewing of the show. I can’t explain how gorgeous the view is, seeing the fireworks perfectly framed over the carousel. I honestly nearly cried, because this is when it really sinks in that you’re working at DISNEY!

~ Day 4 On the Job Training, Assesment Day ~

The final day will be your assessment day! This day, you can get more training in whatever roles you feel the least confident in. I personally chose stocker (because it’s hectic) and podium (because there’s a lot of little details). Throughout the day your trainer should be quizzing you on locations, QSFB and FSFB restaurants and locations, and important safety info. They’re doing this to prepare you for the manager assessment. Once it is time for your assessment, your trainer will follow you through each of the roles. Then you are quizzed by the manager. After it’s over, they will tell you if you passed or not. Looking back on it, I think I stressed too much. The assessment doesn’t expect you to know everything about anything. It just is to prove you have been trying and are willing to learn. If you pass - congratulations!! You’ve earned your ears!

~~~~~

I’ll do a couple posts about what an average week at CRT is like, general DCP stuff, etc. But please let me know if you have any specific posts in mind! Have a magical day lords and ladies :) 

[pilferingapples]

Theo Gautier on Himself, 6/?

(a translation by me of a mini-autobio from Theo Gautier, all from this text.Translation notes and original French under the cut,suggestions and corrections SUPER WELCOME!)

Part 1,  Part 2, Part 3,  Part 4    , Part 5

Previously: Gautier started to make friends, and his Emo Teen poetry  was used for kindling.  

From these college years I have no pleasant memories and I would not want to relive them.

While I was studying my Rhetoric, there came to me a passion, that of swimming, and I spent at that little school(1) all the time that classes left me. Sometimes even, to speak the language of the schoolboys, I'd skip class and spend all day in the river(2). My ambition was to become a “ caleçon rouge”.(3) This is the only one of my ambitions that has been realized. 

At that time, I had no idea that I was made for writing, my taste was more for painting, and before I finished my philosophy I went to Rioult (4), who had his studio on rue Saint-Antoine, near the Protestant temple, near Charlemagne; which allowed me to go to class after the session. Rioult was a man of strange and spiritual ugliness, whom a paralysis forced, like Jouvenet, to paint with his left hand, and who was none the less adroit.(5) At my first study he thought I was “posh”, a somewhat premature accusation(6). The scene so well told in  The Clemenceau Affair was also played for me on the table, and the first model of woman did not seem beautiful, and disappointed me singularly, so much art adds to the most perfect nature. She was, however, a very pretty girl, whom I later appreciated, by comparison, the elegant and pure lines; but from this impression, I have always preferred the statue to the woman and the marble to the flesh.(7)

My studies of painting made me perceive a defect I did not know, that I was nearsighted. When I was in the first row, it was fine, but when the draw of the seats relegated my easel to the back of the room, I could only put together confused masses.(8)

De ces années de collège il ne me reste aucun souvenir agréable et je ne voudrais pas les revivre.

Pendant que je faisais ma rhétorique, il me vint une passion, celle de la nage, et je passais à l’école Petit tout le temps que me laissaient les classes. Parfois même, pour parler le langage des collégiens, je filais, et passais toute la journée dans la rivière. Mon ambition était de devenir un caleçon rouge. C’est la seule de mes ambitions qui ait été réalisée. 

En ce temps-là, je n’avais aucune idée de me faire littérateur, mon goût me portait plutôt vers la peinture, et avant d’avoir fini ma philosophie j’étais entré chez Rioult, qui avait son atelier rue Saint-Antoine, près du temple protestant, à proximité de Charlemagne; ce qui me permettait d’aller à la classe après la séance. Rioult était un homme d’une laideur bizarre et spirituelle, qu’une paralysie forçait, comme Jouvenet, à peindre de la main gauche, et qui n’en était pas moins adroit. À ma première étude il me trouva plein de  » chic « , accusation au moins prématurée. La scène si bien racontée dans L’Affaire Clémenceau se joua aussi pour moi sur la table de pose, et le premier modèle de femme ne me parut pas beau, et me désappointa singulièrement, tant l’art ajoute à la nature la plus parfaite. C’était cependant une très-jolie fille, dont j’appréciai plus tard, par comparaison, les lignes élégantes et pures; mais d’après cette impression, j’ai toujours préféré la statue à la femme et le marbre à la chair. Mes études de peinture me firent apercevoir d’un défaut que j’ignorais, c’est que j’avais la vue basse. Quand j’étais au premier rang, cela allait bien, mais quand le tirage des places reléguait mon chevalet au fond de la salle, je n’ébauchais plus que des masses confuses.

oh gad SO MUCH SLANG this time: 

(1) I don’t think the swimming school was actually called The Little School?  This seems to be more like “the little corner store” or  “the big bakery” --just a minor bit of descriptive. But I could be wrong!

(2) ...Yeah I have no idea.  The original term is “caleçon rouge “ --” caleçon bain“ is swimming trunks, and I guess “ caleçon rouge “ might be a particular color only given to advanced students?  Something like a black belt?  Gautier definitely did become a very accomplished swimmer, at any rate. 

(3) “ pour parler le langage des collégiens, je filais “ : "filer en douce” and “filer a la anglaise” are both slang for “do a runner” or “sneak out”, and this seems to be a similar slang use of the word. 

(4) Almost certainly Louis Eduoard Rioult.  There’s not a lot easily available about him, especially not in English, but that links to a lot of his work. 

(5) “ à peindre de la main gauche, et qui n’en était pas moins a droit.” ...dammit it’s a pun >_<    It’s a Dad Joke Pun. Besides the obvious direct translation there,gauche = left , a droit= to the right, , so even though he’s LEFT handed , he’s RIGHT. Ba-dum-tsh :P 

(6)  À ma première étude il me trouva plein de  » chic « , accusation au moins prématurée.-- very roughly translated with the best slang refs I could find, Rioult thought Gautier was a Damn Preppie  XD

(7)...I can’t even make a joke about Gautier’s lifelong Statue Makeout Goals, because he’s already made them all. 

(8) I have no idea why Gautier couldn’t just get glasses to fix this, as a few of his friends did--the Gautier family definitely had the money to afford something so medically useful. I’ve read elsewhere that he had an astigmatism to go along with the nearsightedness, which I suppose might have made it too hard to get the lenses right? But in any case, it was a noted minor issue for him all his life. 

[nodsex]

My life.

To understand me you need you need to know me. To know me you need to know my story. For the first time in my life, I’m gonna lay it all out.

You may think it starts when my depression started back in 2011, but it started the moment I was brought into exsistance. I was an accident. My mother never said it, but she blames me for being stuck with my father for 10 years.

I grew up in a household full of violence. My father didn’t drink but he was a mean bastard. He beat my mom regularly and he hurt us a few times as well. He used all the money my mother earned, we were on food stamps at times. My father, the fucker, used to get angry, and would break everything from our toys to the kitchen cabinets. He liked to start projects and not finish them, in the house I grew up in, there were half-completed remodeling projects for my whole exsistance there.

My father was a lazy man, we’d come home from school and he’d get a robe on and get a snack and sit on the computer to check his email. After dinner, which my mother made, he’d go back to bed. Rinse. Repeat.

My mother had a rough work schedule. Up at six am, work all day, make dinner, clean, college online, then go to bed at 2 am. I am told this is where my desire for attention of any sort comes from. I have the problem of creating drama and being too open for attention. This is why.

These problems spilled over into my school life, I was socially akward, even as a little kid and I got bulled. I dressed like a boy when I was younger, we couldn’t afford clothes, so I got hand-me-downs from my brother who was 4 years older.

In 2007 my parents split and my dad moved out. My parents finalized the divorce and my mom moved us to another city. Our house went into forclosure. My grandparents moved out from Minnesota to the city we moved to, my mother needed to live near them so they could help out. So we moved to a rich kid neighborhood from the ghetto we grew up in.

At this time I went to middle school, the rich kids who talked about parties, sex and drugs were everywhere. I never fit in no matter how hard I tried. A tomboy surrounded by girls who dressed in skimpy clothes and used lots of makeup made me stick out. Kids ignored me for the most part. I started to get really bad social anxiety at this point.

I remember that since I didn’t have friends, at lunch every day I would walk in circles around this tree while I waited for lunch to be over.

In 7th grade we moved again. We went to the neighborhood my grandmother lived in. We stayed in that house until we moved to Norway. In 9th grade, I started highschool. I started getting attention from boys by sending nudes and kissing. I went through boys left and right. A new boyfriend every two weeks it seemed. I took every new one that walked my way, in my mind I would never get anything better, so I took what I could. This is where my self-esteem problems and my “grass is greener on the other side” complex comes from.

Throughout my life I’ve been heavy. In my mind I’m fat and ugly, but the point remains I’m chubby. This has been the root of my problems not liking myself.

It was in 2010 that I started getting eating disorders. In 8th grade I was bullied by the few people, old friends from a smaller school, that I knew and they wouldn’t let me sit with them at lunch. So every day for lunch I made a meal replacement shake and chugged it at my locker. Those were the days I still ate lunch.

In 9th grade I would skip breakfast and to get me through the day I drank coffee, diet coke and energy drinks. In the later half of 9th grade I got very anorexic. It didn’t show, but I lost almost 30 pounds in two months.

I never made friends, I tried once to hand around the house of a guy from class, in my neighborhood. The next day everyone called me a stalker and slammed me into lockers and said horrible things.

Half way through 9th grade I started self-harming, cutting specifically. I couldn’t deal with my shit and my best friend did it so I tried it once as an escape, it worked.

In August of 2012, we moved half way around the world. This fucked me up, I didn’t understand anyone and the entire culture was different.

In 10th grade I couldn’t make friends, I was told by some bitch to say things, thinking she had given me the right translation, but she had given me bad words to say instead. So began the bullying.

I tried to make friends by drawing portraits of one of my classmates, I did a VERY good portait and showed the guy, everyone talked shit about me for a week. Right in front of me, because I didn’t understand norwegian then.

By the end of the year my legs looked like hamburger. The largest scar on my left leg is from a mean thing Simen said to me.

I didn’t know enough norwegian so I got to take 10th grade again. My brother was a year younger than me so I was in his class. Around that time, I got a swedish boyfriend, so I kept mixing swedish and norwegian. My brother started the bandwagon of the class bullying me for using swedish. For the next year I wouldn’t speak anything but english. To this day, I can’t speak norwegian without getting anxiety for being judged.

My swedish boyfriend I had for two years, on and off and it cause so many social problems. He was psychologically abusive. He kept me on skype 24/7. I ruined relationships with friends, my family, lost my social life, stayed inside and failed 2 years of school.

The largest scar on my body, on my right thigh is because he cheated on me to punish me, and sent me pictures of him cheating.

He liked to control me in any way possible. He got into my head and made me believe it was wrong to eat more than once a day, he would let me shower only once a week and never for longer than 10 minutes, I wore the same outfit for a week at a time, I was brainwashed that cumming was absolutly not allowed. Still today, I can’t get off easily at all. It can take hours. It has caused a lot of shame in my sex life because of it.

Just before I dumped him for good, it was my 18th birthday. I got 5'000kr and I bought him a ticket to come visit. I got kicked out for that, we were homeless for three weeks. I got pregnant around this time, I was starving and the money ran out. I was so sick that I missed a month of school, and failed VG1. At 11 weeks, I had a medical abortion. Never have I been in so much physical and emotional pain.

This happened in May 2015. In August 2015 I met another boy, Richard. We got together and I was there a lot, got kicked out again and moved for my own for the first time. Two weeks before I got my p-stav in September, I got pregnant again. By November he said he’d dump me if I didn’t have an abortion. So I took a surgical abortion. Two weeks later I found out he’d been cheating on me with his ex the whole time, and we took some time appart. He promised we’d stay together, but in christmas break he and his friends sent snaps of him and his ex making out. I was really depressed at that point.

Summer of 2015 I had been in the usa and a guy I was with raped me analy. It was violent and painful and caused a lot of health issues. This makes me afraid of guys, since I trusted him.

In February 2016, I tried to kill myself. I took 10 grams of Paracet and I was hospitalized for three days. When I called my mother from the hospital all she wanted to know was exactly how I did it. She never came to visit or asked if I was okay.

When I got out of the hospital I met Martin, we got together and until September 2016, we were happy as can be. I was happy, I felt safe and I thought things were finally looking up.

Because of my life, I panicked. I thought he was going to leave me or hurt me. It had always happened before. So I numbed my emotions and I left him, like a stone cold bitch. I can still remember the tears in his eyes the night I walked out the door.

Fast foreward to HelgeLAN. I met E-Sport and I was happier. I opened up to them and they seemed interested and non-judgemental. I fell for Joacim and Alexander. The love triangle ended with me and Joacim together.

So began an upswing in my life, after one rocky situation, he said he’d give me one more chance. So we did it right and things were perfect. I remember driving in his car, just looking at his profile with Die Antwoord playing loud, I remember that we almost crashed cause he was holding my hand and we almost hit another car head-on. We had a wonderful time together.

He bought me rings for christmas and the two weeks after christmas were the best of my life. Then he dumped me. I remeber the panic attack, sitting in the snow, the pain.

We carried on as friends with benefits for the next month and a half, then he ended it. I still remeber the kiss goodbye.

Three days into break, I started getting snaps of him and a 16 year old. It broke me, I almost cut again. But I’d been clean a year so I persisted.

The space between the next breaks was the hardest, I was suicidal more than once, but I lived.

A week ago we got drunk and I got to sleep with him again, I was happy, and after a few days of paying for sex he didn’t want it anymore.

I was writing a presentation on depression and listening to sad music and he sent me a snap that was really mean and I just broke. Completly broke. My self-esteem shattered into a thousand pieces. The voice in my head started yelling horrible things at me. I went into my shower and I cut my arms. I then went and took 8 grams of ibuprofin, and landed myself in the hospital. This is my life.