#no valjean. its just that hes in love with you. Fool | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ferret-not-microwave · 4 years ago

Text

Les Amis Modern AU: What They Wish Others Believed About Them (Part 5)

[I kind of wrote this in response to some general trends in characterising the Amis. There are some stereotypes which I'm not quite comfortable with.]

[Hey, y'all! I'm so sorry for not posting this series for a long time, I was flattened for the past 12 days by COVID-19. We have Cosette and Marius today, and I'm so glad that I am feeling better enough to write about them. Cheerio!]

Cosette:

• Is fed up of being considered dainty, fragile, weak and excessively nice, a bit of a pushover. She is anything but. Living with crappy foster parents don't really let you do that. She can stand up against bullshit with biting sarcasm if necessary. It's just that Cosette doesn't rise to the bait very easily, because she has trained herself to ignore battles which don't need her attention. But that doesn't mean that she needs to be protected all the time.

• Is sick of having to relate her childhood traumas in order to not be judged as being a privileged airhead. Cosette likes buying nice things. She likes fashion, and she has some habits from Catholic school, still. She spends a lot of money on her friends and loved ones. She is sunshiney and injects bougie humour and fun into meetings. That doesn't mean that she knows nothing about the shitty world, and that she doesn't actively try to make ethical choices in her consumer behaviour and social commitments. She really dislikes the "Ohhhhh" moment coming from someone judging her for her privilege when someone tells her story to them. Why presume that people are shitty for no reason, damnit?

• Is sick of being mistaken as straight. On one memorable Pride, she was called "straight passing". She dislikes the term immensely. She thinks that people do not have the liberty to immediately assume that she is heterosexual because Marius is her partner. Similarly, people do not get to assume her sexuality because she presents stereotypically femme.

• She feels insecure and uncomfortable when people fix too much attention on her in relation to someone else, as if to scrutinize her. It happened twice amongst the Amis, once when Marius introduced her as his crush for the first time, and once when they came to know that she and Eponine knew each other since childhood, and that Eponine's parents were her abusive foster parents. She likes it better if she were befriended for being herself.

• She feels a little frustrated that people didn't get her conflicting feelings towards Eponine. People immediately assumed that she forgave and forgot everything Eponine had done or said when they were children, in her "characteristically sweet way". Actually, the first time she saw Eponine, her fear reared its ugly head again and she almost ran out of the Musain. There was much dancing around Eponine (who seemed worn out and super uncomfortable as well) and it is only with Marius and Courfeyrac's help that Cosette could start a conversion with Eponine. She did it not be particularly forgiving (though she eventually forgave her anyway), but because she needed to leave her emotional baggage behind and move on.

• A large part of Cosette's forgiveness towards Eponine was fuelled by the knowledge of Eponine's own abuse at her parents' hands. As someone who had faced quite a bit of the same abuse, she needed to put her foot down. Cosette was extremely angry about it, and her anger made sure that Eponine could separate from her parents faster, and eventually get custody of her siblings.

• She hates, hates, hates it when people remind her that she's lucky to get an adoptive father like Valjean particularly after she has a row with him. Just because her foster parents were shitty doesn't mean that she cannot speak against some of Valjeans imperfections! And children often disagree with their parents. She doesn't need to be dampened with the idea that she should basically think Valjean to be perfect because of her past. She is fiercely loyal to Valjean, and doesn't need anyone to test that.

• Cosette is protective of Marius. No one gets to mow Marius over with judgements and snide comments. In fact, Marius found himself being not so much the butt of jokes anymore after Cosette teaches him to stand up for himself. At the same time, Cosette does not helicopter parent Marius. She does tease him within limits, and does not usually interfere when he has disagreements with the Amis. It is a fine balance which does exhaust her sometimes.

• Cosette can be mischievous, even impish. She can land punches (whether they hurt or not doesn't matter), ace paintball/mudslinging matches, play the best pranks on April Fool's Day and curse like a sailor if needed. She is especially proud of the wide-eyed look she still gets from some of the Amis at her antics. She can also get people out of trouble faster than you can say "bail".

Marius:

• Marius feels scared of being judged. It is really, really difficult to understand your own privilege when you come from a super rich, super bigoted family (read grandfather). He has taken lots of embarrassing knocks and call-outs every day till now, but he is learning, and learning fast. The Amis know, and for them he isn't some peripheral person anymore, but an integral part. But sometimes he wakes up with nightmares of being kicked out as a wokeboi and a fraud by the whole group. He often stumbles over his words because he panics that maybe what he is trying to say is problematic. It takes him months to take any initiative in the Amis because he suffers from imposter syndrome all the time.

• Marius hid all information about his favourites (he loves strawberry rosé macarons and silver needle tea, for instance) because he thought that he would be judged as a rich brat. Funnily, it was Ferre who had figured these out and was the first Amis to give him a small tea chest and a box of macarons as a birthday gift (followed closely by Courf and Jehan with a huge birthday party). It took time for Marius to understand that just because he got a bit panned for his political opinions the first time, it doesn't mean that the Amis hate him.

• Quite unlike popular belief, Marius and Ferre do get along very well. They share a lot of niche interests (poring over etymology dictionaries and having a love of museums and trivia nights). They did discuss that first "to be free" moment, and Marius had placed his request to be given more chances to undo his problematic stances. (There was also another "to be free" moment that had left Ferre stunned, but it's a them thing). It hurts Marius when people immediately think that he's probably annoying Ferre when they hang out.

• Marius is not stupid. Please. The whole idea people have that he is stupid because of his awkwardness and shyness is plain mean at times. No, he doesn't need to be talked to slowly, like talking to a child. Whenever he has the courage, he brings up a lot of valid points in Musain meetings. He is extremely resourceful in handling money and talks with boring rich people, and fundraisers have never been better without him. He is juggling a double Masters degree with internships and volunteer services, and picks up languages at the drop of a hat (including Elvish).

• Marius has also had that dangerous phase when, in a bid to be as radical as possible, he fell into trouble way too many times. Even the most even-tempered of them all (read Jehan) has outright cried in exasperation on finding Marius glaring at a policeman in a protest, promising to burn the place down with a flare if they didn't back off from hitting protestors. Marius has similarly taken punches and hits, and there was a time when Joly would hover around him to administer first aid as quickly as possible. It took Enj and R a whole day to explain to him the merits of self-preservation and that revolution today does not necessarily involve a militant loss of life.

• Marius has also that phase when he drove a college sophomore to tears with his radical speech. Aka attacking the heck out of the kid's problematic Facebook post. Cosette had to give him a talk. Marius is learning about how to be a zealous but kind activist every day.

#marius pontmercy #cosette #les miz #les amis #les mis #les miserables #marius and cosette are such sweethearts #marius is an underrated noodle boi #modern au #les mis as #ferret's freshly microwaved post

34 notes · View notes

lagombraofficial · 4 years ago

Text

Confessions - les mis fanfic

A little concept I wrote in december. It’s about if Javert and Valjean were on the asexual spectrum. Thought I might share it and please remember to be nice about the spelling since english isn’t my first language :)

Scroll down for Author’s note

Javert - asexual

Valjean - graysexual

There it was again, the twinkle in his blue beautiful eyes. Strong hands slide down his arms to tie with his. A small butterfly flaps its wings humbly as Javert is drawn by a tricky look and an effective grip around his waist. The warmth that wasn’t with him naturally takes over, and the cold is squeezed out of him from what Javert believed was love. Valjean's lips speak a language he hasn’t yet acquainted with, but at the moment didn’t seem to have such great significance. That his lover’s breathing could be so soothing? Javert was ready to give Valjean a smile just as the butterfly's wingbeat subsided. Javert catches his breath as he is led to their bedroom by an almost hypnotic Valjean. The ex-policeman tried to focus on the warmth of Valjean’s eyes but the butterfly had completely vanished. With the bed sheets pressed against Javert's back, there was no doubt what was about to happen. Valjean, in his turn had without any problems placed himself over him with his arms on either side. Javert was so distracted by troubled thoughts that he no longer saw the smile and security in Valjean’s soft features. Had he come closer? It all happened pretty fast.

"Wait"

It was enough for Valjean to see the change in his partner's face but Javert's hand had as well been hastily pressed against Valjean's chest, which immediately withdrew.

"Is something wrong?"

Restricted, Javert removed his hand. Even though he knew he had to explain himself, he had not yet had time to come up with a sensible answer to his actions.

"No no, it was nothing just a little tired that's all." he said without looking at Valjean who frowned slightly. Javert felt the pressure burn within to say something more and continued. "I liked what you did...before."

“Really?”

“Yes really...”

"Alright but otherwise you’ll promise to tell me immediately. ” said Valjean still a little nervous looking down on him.

"I will"

For a few seconds the comfortable tingling sensation came back when a smile returned to Valjean's lips. Javert thought he was at his finest when he looked reverent. It was when his eyes then darkened and had his head bowed over his neck, when Javert slowly lost his joy once more. As Valjean's fingers began to tinker with his shirt buttons, thoughts of anxiety crept to his mind. Javert tried with all his might not to be bothered. Trying his best to suppress his feelings and thoughts of why the desire was mysteriously gone, or to think at all. He knew all too well the point of what they are doing, that he is to be entertained and focus on the present, on Valjean. He closed his eyes and somewhere along the way he forgot to breathe.

The movement had stopped. Javert opened his eyes again and saw a questioning Valjean stepping aside. It was definitely over for prevarication.

"Javert you are very tensed up"

"I'm just...nervous"

"For me? I’d hardly think so,” Valjean laughed kindly and got up. He offered Javert his hand. "You seem so...quite honestly, I'm a little worried about how pale you have become."

It takes a few seconds before Javert takes his hand and feel his forehead with the other. He seemed relatively nervous on the sweat he wiped away.

"No, this is not possible, now you are trembling, how are you feeling?"

Valjean sits down next to the edge of the bed with both hands wrapped around his, which happens before the inspector has time to retreat.

"Valjean ..." Javert sighs and gives in. "It's time for you to know."

"Yes dearest?"

Javert gathers himself. It is a tough truth he has carried for a long time, but as Valjean has taught him, it’s important for both of their health to share. That in the long run it pays out to bear each other's burdens and truths. He tries to breathe soothing breaths, but who is he fooling?

“You already know that I have a hard time with words, well more about...feelings. What I go through is not the same as others, I'm very sure. It's a feeling beyond my comprehension. Valjean I- I'm sure I'm...simply broken”, Javert recognize Valjean's body language and stop him from interrupting.

“-Before you ask questions, I want to say…I want to tell you that I think you should not have to suffer from my erratic behavior and that I fully understand, no, I recommend that you entrust yourself to someone else because of this. I'm alright with that. ”

The room became quiet. No follow-up questions that Javert had expected came from the other man. Instead, the air between them vibrated with energies that quickly made the ex-inspector uncomfortable. It became so stressful that he had to stand up and detach himself.

"Broken?" a silky voice so soft with a trace of mistrust echoed in the silence. "Javert, now I do not understand."

The ex-inspector screwed on his spot. It’s clear that he wants to leave but something tells him that it is not time to escape. His inner monologue he practiced for himself failed completely, and now he stand there powerless without a plan b. Anxiously he stamp with his feet and hides under his collar when he sees that Valjean has decided to join him.

"Well, I'm broken...it is not normal. I know it dose not make sense."

Valjean shakes his head slightly with a small smile.

“Whatever it is that worries you and feels broken, I will not have to attach myself to anyone else. To me, you are no more broken than I am. Javert, do you want to explain a bit more about that feeling no one else feels?”

"It's rather not a feeling, I'm afraid."

"Not a feeling you say? What is it then?"

"I did not feel the same thing you did just now, you had that look, you..."

Javert had stopped himself, why? He did not know yet. Valjean had only tilted his head to the side, but it was enough to distract him from finishing his sentence. Javert was out of his element and remained silent as the other shorter man seemed to reflect or summarize what had been said. Javert is aware that he is not being very helpful with his chin tucked into his collar or that he is stiff as an oak. Although he felt more like an unstable oak that could sway from the slitest puff of wind, and had its roots worn out from the ground and was on the verge of falling over.

After what felt like an eternity, Valjean woke up from his head and really looked at Javert as he spoke.

"Javert, if talking emotions do not come naturally, you do not need to explain in words." and with that the ex-prisoner took a step back and opened his arms as if he had said "show what you mean".

“Jean...”

“I know you find it hard but right now I believe it bothers you so much that it is better to tell, don’t you think?”

It was true what Valjean said. He had after all decided to tell him, but not how. He took a shaky breath and decided to at least try.

He began his way sliding up Valjean's neck, embracing his cheeks in a kiss. In the passion of the kiss that he had created and got answered, he slowly approached the edge of the bed, just as Valjean had previously done. The tingling sensation lingered until he felt Valjean's hands sail further down his bust. Once the tingle disappeared he stopped abruptly and put Valjean's hand against his own heart. He had to look at the dresser and its embroidered cloth instead of the flaming man below him. The hand held against his chest he kissed lightly before turning away.

“there, it happened again...the feeling disappeared! Broken!” he exclaimed squarely.

"Javert, wait a minute," Valjean said as he hugged Javert's shoulders. Javert usually would not approve of this much affection in one night but Valjean felt the need to push his limits for the sake of understanding. “I understand now.”

The inspector allowed himself to be turned around so they ended up face to face.

"You mean desire, that you do not feel desire for me?"

“No, I mean I do! It’s not...yes..."

Javert eventually gives up. His pulse is rising and he finds it hard to breath again. It's almost too much for the former inspector that he's about to lose it. There are lots of emotions swirling inside him all at once that he is not used to. Is he scared, but for whom? At the same time, he feels shame and anger for not being able to feel the same way as Valjean, like other people do for each other. In the mids of his dimmed thought process he glimpsed Valjean’s troubled face seeking his eyes. He felt the need to say something.

He calls Jean’s name and takes the small but robust face in his palms again. Mostly to be able to stay focused on something stable and stop the trembles in his fingers. The hour was late and he could not longer speak restraining himself.

“Understand me right, I feel for you, a lot! I do not know what I would do without you. That you want intercourse is natural and should be something I can give you, but it is not possible! The feeling disappears every time, on the other hand I should be able to perform the act anyway because I care about you, but there is a resistance to it all! That's what makes me broken. Forgive me ...”

Javert prepare to pull away once more but can’t. Valjean has already had time to wrap himself around him like a snake. Javert is confused until he hears the sobs.

"The only thing I want Javert is you, your well-being and love, whatever form it may be."

Valjean cried and took a moment to press his head agains the taller man before continuing. “I’m being selfich hugging you without warning but If I may say something about love, I know that it has a greater meaning than the carnal. There are different kinds of love Javert! And if you do not want to believe it, I can assure you that I always prefer such love as holding hands, hugs, kisses over anything else! In the name of honesty, I'm relieved to hear you say as it is. I have never really had any need for intercourse either.”

The last words hit Javert faster than lightning but took time to really sink in. Could it be true?

“Do you mean that? Can you do without? Do not say that just for my sake. ” he raised Valjean to his height with wide eyes.

"Of course I can," said Valjean and a small laugh left him seeing the ex-inspector in such a surprised state.

"I seduced you because I thought you wanted it, my dear, but how wrong one can be!”

"And so did I..."

All they could do was smile at their preconceived notions. Valjean still saw something in Javert's gaze that told him it wasn’t quite enough to silence his doubts. He then waited patiently with a settled sight on the the ex-inspector, to speak once more.

“But Jean...it turned black before your eyes. As I understand it, it’s a sign." In response, he received a giggle. Valjean shakes his head gently sitting up properly and reaches for Javert’s face to stroke his cheek.

"I guess it's my turn to confess something. My situation is similar to yours as it now seems, but I have now come to the conclusion that the feeling of desire comes and goes less often for me than others. If I may give an example, I felt it a while ago but not when you would show me just now. It just suddenly disappeared, just like you said.”

Valjean smiled broadly at Javert's changing of expression, which had become a more uplifting one. In the moment of silence the withe haired man brushed the tired ex-policeman’s jawline and feral whiskers that suited the man more than he’d ever imagine.

“You may correct me but you seemed to enjoy yourself up to the point of thinking of going further, is that right?" Valjean asked curiously but remained carful choosing his words.

“Correct.”

“So now that we both know we don’t really want it, we could do what we actually want...” Valjean ended his sentence in more of a whisper as he softly comb though the long gary main before him.

“So when you were blushing before, you-...or do I imagine such things?” Javert responded much more quietly than before leaning into the affection he was given.

"It's possible...but I can tell you it’s something I do just thinking about you sometimes." confessed Valjean. He was clearly embarrassed, but it only made Javert’s heart fluter more than ever. He embraiced Valjean who was happily obeying and kissed him without restrain or thoughts, only with feeling. A lovely feeling that would never seem to fade.

Author’s note

I’m happy with the outcome. It was originally written in swedish but I did my best to translate it. I needed to write something happy for my soul because I’m having a hard time right now. It’s out of character sure, but I tried to be as true to the characters either way (hope that it shows somehow).

Thank you for reading!

#les miserable javert #les mierables #les mis #jean valjean #javert #les miserables fanfiction #valvert #les miserables jean valjean #les miz rocks #les miz #asexual #graysexual

21 notes · View notes

carewyncromwell · 4 years ago

Photo

Whew! Three drawings for the price of one for the POTC AU! The first two feature our new Pirate King Jules Farrier-Weasley @cursebreakerfarrier (flanked by Jacob “Black Jack” Cromwell Roberts and Orion Amari), and Cutler Beckett (flanked by Carewyn Cromwell “Carey Weasley” and Patricia Rakepick). The last one features the human form of our Davy Jones, Finn McGarry @theguythatdraws, with his One True Love Chiara Dalma, A.K.A. Calypso! These took a while, but they were fun to do, so I hope you like them.

Jules’s “tunic” is actually the same chemise she cut up while she was still on board the Artemis, as seen in a doodle on a previous post. Carewyn’s new uniform (which we’ll address in this part) is based on yet another of James Norrington’s costumes, this time the one he wears in the third Pirates film. Unlike the character whose role she roughly fills, though, Carey isn’t going to die unceremoniously in the middle of the damn story after getting this costume change. (Why no, I’m not bitter about the fact that Jack Davenport didn’t get more screentime and that Norrington didn’t get to be the Javert to Captain Jack Sparrow’s Valjean in the sequels the way he so could’ve been after the first movie, why would you think that? *snort*)

Now that we’re getting more into the Davy Jones/Calypso stuff, I can acknowledge how much I’ve changed from the original films’ depictions of the characters, as well as why. Personally I find the characters’ relationship to be a bit toxic and not as romantic as it should be. Calypso, being a goddess, could very easily not understand things like the passage of time through a man’s eyes, but the excuse she gives for why she wasn’t there to support her lover after all of the hard and lonely work he’d put in for her after ten years is just “it’s who I am.” I get that she’s a manifestation of the sea and not something you can pin down and all that jazz, but at the same time, it was cruel to follow her own selfish whims over considering her lover’s feelings. She presumably then also didn’t even try following up with Jones after he returned to the sea, as they aren’t able to sort out that misunderstanding before the events of At World’s End. (I mean, she’s a shape-shifting goddess of the sea, and she made him that way in the first place, so it’s not like she couldn’t have met him somewhere that wasn’t dry land.) I understand Jones couldn’t expect her to change her nature, and that’s fair, but it doesn’t make me like Calypso very much or feel much of anything for her relationship with Jones. And on the flip side, Jones decides to take out his pain at this misunderstanding (which he really should’ve tried clearing up AGES before the events of At World’s End) on his lover in the most spiteful, vindictive way -- teaching a bunch of pirates how to trap an immortal goddess into a mortal body that definitely has none of the power innate to her, presumably feels pain, and could even age or die. Rather than trying to quit the job Calypso gave him or even trying to figure out what happened, he decides to clip the wings of the woman he supposedly loves, all due to his own pain at being betrayed. So I don’t feel much for Jones as a character and for his relationship with Calypso either. In the end, when they quasi-make up, I didn’t think it was earned or that it was a good outcome for either of them. I do think there’s some tragedy in the situation, for they clearly feel deeply for each other, but their romance is really dysfunctional in my opinion, and I think it could’ve been handled a lot better if you wanted to make the pairing as romantic as the theme Hans Zimmer wrote for it. (As a side, take a listen to this lovely lyric cover someone wrote for the Davy Jones theme, it’s so good!) This is part of why I like being able to write Chia and Finn (the Calypso and Jones analogues in this AU) with a more sympathetic backstory, as well as some organic development for both them and their relationship while they’re apart from each other, which I kind of think was lacking in Tia Dalma/Calypso in particular.

Previous part is here, whole tag is here, and I hope you all enjoy!

x~x~x~x

Carewyn was perturbed by how fast an armada of ships from Port Royal caught up with the Flying Dutchman, once Rakepick had Jones send one of his cursed crew members with a message for Beckett. It was as though the head of the East India Trading Company had been waiting in eager anticipation of the Dutchman locating Shipwreck Cove ever since he gave her and Rakepick the mission in the first place.

Among the armada was the Clearwater, and Carewyn was shocked and a little happy to see Percy crossing over to the Dutchman from his ship and leaping off the gangplank to greet her. The youngest of the three Weasley brothers who’d joined the Navy gave her a salute for formalities’ sake, but he couldn’t keep the relieved smile off his face.

“Commodore Weasley,” he said formally.

“Captain Weasley,” said Carewyn in return.

As soon as they’d greeted each other, both of them loosened considerably. Carewyn opened her arms and brought Percy into a rather mannish hug, clapping his back the way Bill often did whenever he hugged his brothers.

“Jones’s men treated you well, I hope?” Percy murmured under his breath, his voice betraying some cold suspicion despite himself.

“Well enough,” Carewyn said softly.

When they broke apart, Percy was smiling a bit more fully.

“It is good to see you, Carey,” he said, his faintly pompous voice nonetheless incredibly sincere, “though I’m afraid I’ll have my own ship to run now...”

Carewyn smiled proudly. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. A Commodore needs a talented Captain in his fleet.”

‘I know how long you’ve dreamed of moving up the ranks. Even if the Navy isn’t what it should be...I’m glad that you’re living your dream, Percy.’

Percy’s brown eyes softened, clearly touched. Before he could say anything, however, a familiar, aloof voice interrupted him.

"A Commodore does indeed need a talented Captain...”

Both Weasleys turned to Cutler Beckett as he stepped down onto the deck of the Dutchman beside them. His small eyes were locked firmly on Carewyn.

“...as does the Admiral of the fleet.”

He materialized a folded letter and held it out to Carewyn. Her eyebrows furrowed as she opened it, before her eyes widened upon its contents and the royal wax seal at the bottom.

“I’d already had this prepared ahead of time, prior to your departure from Port Royal,” said Beckett with a cool smile. “I wrote to the King of how impressed I was with your dedication, ingenuity, and talents, and he was most pleased. When I requested you to be at the head of my fleet for this upcoming venture, he agreed immediately. Upon receiving Madam Rakepick’s letter about you initiating the search for the Tower Raven’s old fleet and using one of their own ships to guide us to our target...I knew that my faith had been more than warranted.”

His eyes narrowed slightly over his cold, satisfied smile.

“Congratulations...Admiral Carey Weasley.”

The “honor” the King had bestowed upon her, if one could call it that, made Carewyn feel ill for multiple reasons. Not only did she truly not, NOT want to fight the Pirate Lords and whatever ships they gathered together, but she knew that she had largely gotten the position thanks to the effort of Rakepick -- who had for whatever reason credited Carewyn for following the Phoenix rather than taking credit herself -- and Beckett -- who Carewyn didn’t trust as far as she could throw him, but couldn’t figure out why exactly he had so much “faith” in her. Was she truly that good of an actress to completely fool him? She wanted to think so -- and yet the way he looked at her, not unlike how Rakepick looked at her, spoke of him knowing something she didn’t. Sadly Percy, even if he had seemed legitimately troubled by the hangings in Port Royal, was not distrustful enough of Beckett to express anything but pride in Carewyn’s accomplishment, so Carewyn couldn’t talk to him or anyone else about her suspicions.

When she confronted Rakepick about what she wrote to Beckett, the older woman’s response was oddly coy.

“I already told you you don’t belong on this ship,” she said, her dark blue eyes locked firmly onto Carewyn’s with a murky emotion she couldn’t quite identify. “Now that you’re Admiral, you’ll have more power to command your own ship, overlooking the Dutchman as well as the rest of the fleet.”

Carewyn’s eyes narrowed. “So you wrote that so I’d get off the Dutchman?”

Rakepick’s eyes narrowed slightly too, becoming more solemn. “You heard Lord Beckett -- he’d already planned this for you in advance. Although my reasons are different from his, I’m more than willing to play along with his whims, if it means I get what I want.”

“And what is it you want, Rakepick?”

Rakepick’s red lips curled up into a cool smirk. “Now, Admiral...one can hardly expect a lady to answer such a personal question.”

Not long after confronting Rakepick, Beckett summoned Carewyn to his cabin on his flagship, a Man O’ War called the HMS Lion. Unlike any of their previous meetings in his office, Carewyn found the cabin completely empty except for Beckett when she arrived -- in the past, Percy or Rakepick had been there too, as well as one or two employees of the East India Trading Company. It gave her the feeling that Beckett wanted this meeting to be more private than the others, which gave her a terrible sense of foreboding.

“You wished to see me, Lord Beckett?” she asked, once she’d finished saluting him.

“Yes,” said Beckett.

He was sitting behind his desk, which once again had a map laid out with different model soldiers and ships littered all over it. There were also seven Piece of Eight coins lined up in a neat little row -- he was once again playing with the eighth, rolling it along his fingers lackadaisically.

“Word has come from Shipwreck Cove, from the so-called ‘Pirate King,’“ he said, his eyes on the coin in his hand. “She wishes to rendez-vous on a tiny island on the far side of Shipwreck Island at sunset tonight, a ways away from the Cove. No weapons -- just talking.”

Beckett’s eyes flickered up to Carewyn’s face almost critically.

“...The Pirate King...signed her name as ‘Captain Jules Weasley’ -- so she’d be an old flame of yours, would she not?”

Carewyn stiffened slightly. ‘Jules is the Pirate King?’

She covered up her surprise quickly, her blue eyes narrowing.

“Miss Farrier -- pardon, Mrs. William Weasley -- never commanded any affection from me. Although her father bid she court me, her feelings were always for my brother -- so much so that she followed him into piracy.”

Beckett’s lips spread into a cold smile. “Then it’s as I surmised. Governor Farrier expressed frustration that his daughter had not managed to ensnare your heart, as opposed to your older brother’s -- especially considering how much she seemed to enjoy your company...”

Carewyn could not figure out what Beckett was trying to suss out from this conversation and it troubled her greatly -- so she put on her best, coldest expression and lied through her teeth.

“Whatever woman I respected in the past is dead, now that she’s an enemy of the Crown,” she said harshly. “I know no ‘Captain Jules Weasley’...nor do I wish to.”

Beckett’s smile did not shift in the slightest. If anything, his small, dark eyes flickered in something almost like triumph.

“I understand your sensitivity to the matter. You truly do love with all of your heart, don’t you, Admiral Weasley?”

Carewyn’s eyebrows knit tightly over her eyes in confusion, but she did not reply. Beckett put the Piece of Eight coin down in the row on his deck and rose from his chair, moving over to the decanter of red wine on the side table so he could pour a glass.

“I saw you with Captain Weasley, before you left Port Royal -- and of course, your reunion on-board the Dutchman, earlier today. I also heard quite a few interesting rumors circulated among our prisoners from Tortuga, speaking of your honor and the respect you showed them despite their criminal status...even moving a woman into a cell with her husband without being asked, if I’m not mistaken...”

His voice was very aloof and was tinged with a bizarre fascination, like an entomologist might have for a rare butterfly he’d pinned to his wall. Carewyn felt like her heart was being squeezed, but she dare not say anything.

Beckett finished pouring out two glasses of wine and put down the decanter so he could pick up both glasses.

“It’s not something I’m familiar with, that kind of concern for others.”

He offered the glass of red wine to Carewyn, his eyes boring into her face. Carewyn kept her face as blank as she could even though she could feel the blood leaving it as she took the glass of wine from him, but did not drink it.

“...I did not mean to displease you, Lord Beckett,” she said lowly.

Beckett’s eyes flickered again with that strange satisfaction as he took a sip from his glass of wine.

“On the contrary -- it’s only appropriate, for a woman to have a gentle heart.”

Carewyn stiffened sharply.

‘No. No, no, no -- !’

It was one thing for Rakepick to find out, but Beckett to know -- did Rakepick tell him? No, she said she wasn’t really doing any of this for Beckett -- should she deny it, Carewyn wondered? But if she did, and he caught her in a lie, could that make it worse -- ?

Her hesitation made Beckett’s eyes gleam with greater satisfaction than ever.

“Then I was right,” he murmured. “I admit, I wasn’t sure. True, your voice is higher than one normally hears and you’re smaller than most, but I know first hand that means nothing. And your military record...had it not been for me having met and employed Patricia Rakepick previously, I would never have believed a woman could be so skilled in battle and strategy, nor so aggressive. But when Captain Weasley expressed such interest in me having hired a woman, and even went out of his way to bring it up to you...my interest was peaked. All the more so when I found out how truly useful you are, as an officer.”

Carewyn felt like she was drowning in horrifying, icy cold water. Beckett knew she was a woman -- he knew she was a woman, and could tell anyone about it, if he so chose. She’d not only lose her position -- the one thing that she had left that she could use to protect Jacob, Orion, Bill, Charlie, and Jules...but she’d be cast out in disgrace, leaving her with nothing -- possibly taking Percy along with her for having kept her true gender a secret --

Her blue eyes had drifted down to the floor absently, but were not focusing on anything.

Yet...Beckett had said nothing of his suspicions to anyone. True, he hadn’t known for sure...but why would he recommend her to the King as an Admiral, if he’d suspected?

And then it hit her.

She bowed her head, casting her eyes into shadow as she put down her untouched wine glass on the side table.

“...What do you want from me, Lord Beckett?”

Beckett raised his eyebrows but did not respond.

“You very easily could’ve gotten both Percy and me cast out of the Navy in disgrace,” she said, keeping her voice low in an attempt to try to keep it steady, “yet you’ve kept me and even helped get me promoted, presumably because I’m so ‘useful.’ What use do I have, for you?”

Beckett gave her something of a patronizing smile as he stepped forward, coming up right in front of Carewyn so that his chin rested just shy of her shoulder and he could look at her face out the side of his eye.

“Isn’t it obvious? You are an excellent Naval officer -- a leader and inspiration to those who serve under you. You’re world-renown for your honor, your courage -- your passion. You prompt people to fight with you -- for you -- with a loyalty that even the King of England himself cannot boast. Were you a man, you would be someone I’d be very threatened by, indeed. But since you are a woman...I can appeal to your heart.”

Carewyn could feel his breath sliding past her ear and she couldn’t help but cringe. She stubbornly refused to look him in the eye, keeping her gaze firmly on the floor.

“I’m afraid my disinterest in the once-Miss Farrier was not a one-off thing, Lord Beckett,” she said very dryly. “Romance is not something I think about very regularly.”

Orion’s face rippled over her mind, making her heart ache. Oh, if he were there, in that room -- the thought of him seeing her letting herself get pushed around by the man who’d branded him and sent the Navy after him for piracy...it made her feel ill.

Beckett’s lips curled up in a slightly tighter, almost miffed smile as he pulled away just enough that he was facing the wall behind her rather than looking at her face.

“...Oh...no, Admiral...you misunderstand me. I know I own no part of your heart...but Captain Weasley, he most assuredly does.”

Carewyn’s head shot up so she could look at him, her expression stricken despite herself.

“Your younger brother is not nearly as useful as you, but he has shown great dedication to me, since I threw him a bone and ensured his promotion. It’s a loyalty I hope that you will likewise show me...especially considering that both you and he have been given access to information that few others have been...and that I would do just about anything to ensure doesn’t become common knowledge...”

Carewyn stared at Beckett, her shock giving way to cold hatred.

“So that’s it,” she murmured. “You’ll hold Percy’s and my lives and livelihoods over our heads, to make sure that I don’t surpass you, somehow. How I don’t know, considering that the Navy is not part of the East India Trading Company, nor shall it ever be, but clearly you feel loyalty is something to threaten out of people, rather than earn -- ”

“The only thing one can really earn in this world, Admiral, is money, and therefore power,” Beckett cut her off sharply, “and I have no intention of losing either, now that I’ve earned both of which I’m owed!”

He turned to look Carewyn straight-on in the eye, their faces mere inches apart. Gone was any hint of attempt at gentlemanly poise -- there was a hard edge to his gaze, not unlike the way he’d looked at Jones, but because he was actually an inch or so taller than Carewyn, he seemed to relish the power he had looking down at her both literally and figuratively.

“You will use your talents to serve my interests,” he said under his breath, “and I, in return, will continue to reward you and your brother, by ensuring that your careers and lives flourish under me. It’s just good business.”

At sundown, Beckett and Jules met at the tiny island agreed upon. Jules strolled down the long, narrow beach toward the shoreline where they were to meet, Jacob on one side of her and Orion on the other. She’d originally wanted Bill with her, but McNully was able to persuade her that she’d look that bit more intimidating to Beckett if she arrived in the company of two of the most wanted pirate captains in the world, and even Bill had to agree. Jules was determined to stand between Jacob and Orion, though, considering that there was still a lot of tension between them.

Jules had been furious with Jacob, when she’d learned about the deal he’d struck with Davy Jones. Even if he’d originally planned to give Jones “a Cromwell” as in Charles or Blaise Cromwell -- two objectively bad people who had been largely responsible for Carewyn and Jacob’s abusive, unloving childhoods -- Jules was also confident in thinking that Carewyn would be horrified, knowing that Jacob was willing to enslave another person to Davy Jones, just to find her. Jacob refused to feel guilty for that, but he clearly was destroyed by the knowledge that his choice had put Carewyn in so much danger. It was apparent from the way he talked about it and the way his hands and shoulders shook with silent sobs that Jacob would’ve sacrificed himself a hundred times over, if it would guarantee Carewyn wouldn’t be harmed.

Orion, by contrast, hadn’t said a word since Jacob told them what was going on. Throughout the entire conversation, he’d had his hands clasped tightly in front of him and kept his gaze downcast, even taking time to close his eyes for long periods of time as if he were meditating. Despite his silence and his detached affect, his usually stoic expression and unsteady breathing betrayed genuine anxiety. At one point, Bill brought a hand onto Orion’s shoulder to try to comfort him, and Orion actually subconsciously smacked his hand away.

“I’m sorry,” said the Captain quickly, his voice very hushed and tense as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. “Just...please, don’t touch me.”

Bill, Charlie, and Jules all thought they could guess how Orion was feeling. Although the others had forcefully shot down the idea that Orion was the least bit responsible since he couldn’t have known the consequences of calling Carewyn by her real name, their words had done little to soften the Pirate Lord’s brow. If Orion’s past behavior hadn’t been indicative of how deeply he felt for Carewyn, then the way he clasped anxiously at his own hands and shut himself off from everyone else at the thought of her being doomed to spend the rest of her life trapped on board the Flying Dutchman made it crystal clear.

“Orion’s always valued his own freedom more than any kind of loot,” McNully murmured to the three Weasleys under her breath, “more than anything, really. And if he cares about the Commodore so much...”

“...He probably couldn’t bear it, if she lost hers,” finished Charlie, bowing his head and closing his eyes as they welled up with pain and righteous anger.

As Jules, Jacob, and Orion approached the shore, they caught sight of three people standing in the distance. The man in the middle dressed in black Orion identified as Cutler Beckett. On his left was an older woman as tall as Orion with hair as ginger red as Bill and Charlie’s that Jacob immediately recognized as Rakepick...and on his right was Carewyn, dressed in a new yellow-trimmed navy blue uniform and a black tricorn hat.

The three pirates stopped five feet away from the Head of the East India Trading Company and his two female companions, a notable sting of tension prickling at the air. Jules tried hard to keep her focus on Beckett, but her eyes were drawn to Carewyn despite herself. Although her friend faced Orion -- the person directly in front of her -- with a hard, stoic expression, she looked so pale. When Jules glanced over, she noticed out the side of her eye that Orion’s unreadable gaze was also locked on Carewyn, even as he took deep breaths through his nose and his hands clenched absently at his sides.

“Well, well,” said Beckett, his eyes narrowing darkly upon Orion’s face, “if it isn’t my old friend, Orion Amari.”

Orion glanced at Beckett out the side of his eye without turning his face away from Carewyn’s. Although his face remained rather calm, there was a faint edge to his soft-spoken response.

“...I did not think you were ever much in the market for friendship, Cutler Beckett...considering it’s something you cannot buy.”

His gaze returned to Carewyn. Beckett glanced from Carewyn to Orion, his lips curling up in a very cold smile.

“Ah, yes -- you and Amari are old friends also, aren’t you, Admiral Weasley?”

“Admiral?” repeated Orion, taken aback despite himself.

“Yes,” said Carewyn, and although her response was very cold, her eyes pulsed with emotion that she attempted to obscure by glancing to the side in Jacob’s direction rather than straight at Orion. “By order of the King, as a reward for my work alongside Lord Beckett.”

Jules could see Jacob’s jaw clench out the corner of her eye. She too felt like her heart was being squeezed. Carewyn no doubt hated her promotion with everything in her, if it was something she’d earned chasing after them on Beckett’s orders. Still...Jules couldn’t express that flat-out, so she put on the strongest expression she could.

“...I suppose congratulations are in order, then.”

Carewyn flashed Jules a look. “I don’t want congratulations from you, Mrs. Weasley. Or should I call you ‘Your Majesty,’ now that you’ve started playacting as a royal?”

Jules’s lips came together tightly when she saw how broadly Beckett smirked. The small man’s reaction seemed to piss off Jacob too.

“You will show proper respect to the Pirate King,” he said with a fierce look at the Head of the East India Trading Company.

“Respect,” scorned Rakepick. “Is that a word you can even define, Black Jack?”

“As well as I could wring your neck, if I were allowed,” spat Jacob.

“I’m surprised your ‘Pirate King’ would want a man in her company who’s so comfortable threatening a lady’s life,” said Carewyn sharply.

‘Don’t start a fight with her,’ she thought desperately, praying that Jacob would be able to sense her intent even with the act she had to play.

Unfortunately Jacob, as smart as he was, was never the best at reading people’s emotions -- and so when his narrowed eyes shot to Carewyn, she could see a flicker of pain. She surmised that even if he clearly didn’t think she believed what she was saying, it hurt him beyond reason, to see her having to defend the woman who’d tried to kill him.

Orion, however, very quickly adapted to the new method of “conversation,” fixing Carewyn with a calm, but piercing gaze.

“And I’m surprised that a honorable officer such as yourself would be so comfortable in the company of those with no honor whatsoever,” he said.

‘You’re in danger,’ Carewyn surmised he was trying to say. Her eyes narrowed upon Orion’s face.

“I beg your pardon?” she retorted. “I fail to see how a pirate has any leg to stand on, speaking of honor.” ‘What are you trying to tell me?’

“Even I have more honor than a captain who would burn an entire settlement to the ground,” murmured Orion. ‘Davy Jones.’

“Jones follows orders, as do we all...something else a pirate wouldn’t understand.” ‘What about Jones?’

"Orders...from Cutler Beckett, or from you? From what I’ve heard, you were on the Flying Dutchman yourself -- hardly a place one would expect to find Port Royal’s greatest hero.” ‘You must get away from Davy Jones. Get off of the Flying Dutchman.’

Carewyn’s blue eyes narrowed a bit more. First Rakepick wanted her off the Dutchman, and now Orion? Yes, Davy Jones was dangerous, but at present she found him much less of a threat than Beckett...

“A true hero knows that his reputation comes second to the good of the others,” she said very softly. “As does a loyal officer.” ‘I can’t leave.’

Something in Orion’s dark eyes flinched.

“Your older brother will be very disappointed, to know you’ve sold your loyalty so cheaply,” he said just as softly.

Carewyn felt her heart clench. She knew he didn’t mean Bill -- and yet the thought of both her surrogate brothers and Jacob was a silent knife to her back. She didn’t dare look at Jacob for fear her strong facade would crack, so she kept her focus solidly on Orion.

“I would think given your own history with Lord Beckett, you’d know full well how valuable of an ally he is, ” she shot back quickly, feigning temper as best she could, “and how dangerous of an enemy, as well. Both I and the brother who chose to follow the law rather than spit in its face are certainly glad for his aid, in ending your reign of terror.”

‘I can’t leave, not with what Beckett has over me and Percy. And if I do leave, then you’ll be in more danger than ever...’

Her eyes bore into Orion’s fiercely as she begged beyond reason he’d understand.

“...You may tell William...that I am no Bedlam maid in need of saving.”

‘You can’t help me. I love you.’

Deep in the depths of his sparkling black eyes, Carewyn could see a flicker of desperation, almost like anxiety. Afraid that Beckett might notice the crack in Orion’s expression, or in her own at the sight of it, she quickly whirled on Jules.

“He is the one who should stand down,” she said, her voice hardening further in an attempt to obscure her emotions. “All of you should, unless you wish to face down an entire armada.”

‘There are 34 Man O’ Wars waiting out there for you,’ she hoped Jules would be able to discern. Even if she didn’t know an armada had that many ships, Jacob and Orion would.

Jules, to her credit, matched Carewyn’s act with her own cold gaze. “Don’t underestimate us, Admiral Weasley. Both the British Navy and the East India Trading Company have done that consistently from the beginning.”

“And now we have come to the end,” said Beckett smoothly. “Of you and the rest of your Brethren.”

The others all turned to look at him. He flashed Orion a look better suited to a cockroach before redirecting his gaze onto Jules.

“Tell your Court this,” he said in an aloof, condescending voice. “You can fight, and all of you will die...or you can stand down, in which case only most of you will die. I daresay the Governor could be persuaded to spare you from the gallows, if you threw yourself on his mercy...and if I were to be merciful enough to leave out your new position, in my correspondence with the King...”

Jules’s dark eyes flashed with hatred as she strode forward, coming to a stop two feet from Beckett so she could glare right into his face.

“There are few things I can tolerate less than cowards who resort to blackmail just to make themselves feel powerful.”

She didn’t look at Carewyn, but Carewyn could sense Jules was thinking of her, as she said this.

“We will fight. And you’d best hope that we will show more mercy than you would, in our place.”

The Pirate King turned on her heel and walked away. With some reluctance, Orion and then Jacob turned away and strode quickly after her, leaving the other three alone on the shore.

“So be it,” said Beckett with a cold smile.

Carewyn couldn’t look at Rakepick or Beckett at her side. Her gaze was solidly locked on the departing backs of her brother, friend, and love as they began to shrink into the distance.

She’d never been very good at relying on or having faith in others...but in that moment, more than anything, she knew all she could do now was put her trust in Orion -- in Jules -- in Jacob -- in Bill and Charlie and all of the other pirates on Shipwreck Cove.

‘Please...please, be careful. Please be safe.’

In that moment of helplessness, she felt her heart ache all the more, watching Orion walk away. She closed her eyes, trying to bring back the memory of him standing shoulder to shoulder with her on the Artemis -- of him lying in bed as she tended to him, when they were young -- but it was no use. The graveness of the situation was too dire even for escapism...

Carewyn clutched her own arms behind her back. They suddenly felt so much heavier...as if there really were manacles there she couldn’t hope to break.

‘...Please...please live.’

On the opposite side of the island, both Jules and Jacob noticed the silent tears that had streaked down Orion’s face...but none had the heart to address it as they boarded the jollyboat that would take them back to the Artemis and to Shipwreck Cove.

At the same time that the pirates and the leaders of the British Navy were meeting, Davy Jones had been left behind on the Flying Dutchman with Percy supervising the troops. Beckett thought that Jones was threatened into line by how many soldiers were still guarding his heart, but thanks to Carewyn, Jones knew that Rakepick had stolen and relocated it. Now that he didn’t know where his heart was at all, he knew he couldn’t afford to move until he’d found it again -- and with Carewyn likely leaving the Dutchman with her new position as Admiral, it was likely it’d take a while before she could smuggle him any more information she might acquire about that. For the moment, though, Jones had put that concern on the back burner, for the Dutchman’s arrival near Shipwreck Cove gave him the opportunity to catch up with the Phoenix.

As luck would have it, when Jones phased through the Dutchman and onto the Phoenix, the ship was largely abandoned, since the crew had all gone ashore to Shipwreck Cove. The only person remaining was a small woman with long white hair, looking out to sea over the deck. In her hand was a pretty silver locket in the shape of a moon, the lid of which was cracked open so that a sweet, tinkling music box melody played.

Chia Dalma closed the locket half-way through the song, her eyes closing sadly as she clasped the locket close to her chest. She straightened up in shock, however, when she suddenly heard the rest of the tune echoing from behind her. She whirled around, to be faced with a giant, hulking shadow with writhing tentacles sprouting out from his jaw, holding an identical locket in his claw. Anyone would’ve been terrified at the sight -- but Chia looked upon the figure with tears in her eyes.

“Finn,” she breathed. Her lips were curled up in a weak smile, just as they had been before, but the joy was stained with so many other emotions -- grief, shame, and regret.

Davy Jones regarded Chia critically as he took several plodding steps toward her. “You know I haven’t been called that name in years.”

Chia bowed her head. “Nor have I been called my true name in years.”

Jones tilted his head, trying to read her expression better now she was looking away from him.

“I had not expected to find you like this,” he said very lowly. “You’ve never taken on such a small shape before.”

Chia’s eyes flashed with righteous anger as she raised her head. “That’s because this form is one I did not choose to take. It was thrust upon me by the Brethren Court.”

Jones straightened up slightly. His eyes narrowed to slits.

“...Then they did not kill or trap you. They transformed you.”

His voice was as low and growling as thunder. Chia clutched at the sides of her arms with her hands, her gaze smouldering with resentment as she glared down at the deck.

“Oh, but they did trap me,” she said bitterly, “trapped me in this single form, which can’t do even half of what I should be able to. I’ve been able to use what power I have to slow down the aging process, but this body still feels pain. This body still feels strain, and weakness, and hunger, and exhaustion, and longing...”

Something rippled over her eyes -- something more ashamed and pained.

“...I never knew...how much time truly weighs on a human,” she murmured.

Jones’s expression grew much more grim. “An immortal such as yourself should never have had to learn that.”

“Should never have had to, yes...but...”

She looked up at Jones, her gray eyes pulsing with strength despite the pain rippling within.

“...why did you not tell me, how long ten years felt for you? I have felt those ten years several times over, trapped in this tiny, fragile, helpless body every single moment -- and it’s...it’s been torture. To know you took the job I gave you -- only coming ashore once every ten years, so you could help me with the burden of tending to the dead at sea -- when ten years feels like that, to you -- ”

Chia’s eyes flooded with tears.

“I gave you the position of ferryman because I wanted to spare you from death,” she whispered. “Because if I didn’t give you that role and give you some of my power, you would’ve died. I’d never thought that those ten years would feel so long -- drain you so much...”

Jones was quiet for a long moment. Then he brought up his claw to brush her bangs from her eye.

“It’s only natural that you saw things the way an immortal would. Time is no object to you -- ten years no doubt felt like a small price to pay, in the face of your life span. And...”

His eyes became a bit smaller.

“...it’s not exactly like I wanted to die and be separated from you either. Even though part of me always doubted you’d be there waiting for me, when I returned...even though I resented you for years because you weren’t there...”

A ghost of a smile flickered over his features.

“...I know I shouldn’t have expected you to see things as I have -- to change yourself to suit me. If you did...you wouldn’t be the goddess I fell in love with, would you?”

Chia smiled up at Jones, her eyes shining with tenderness.

“I tried to make it back to you,” she murmured. “When the Court transformed me, I tried so hard to get there, to reach you...”

She extended her hands, tentatively trailing them along his tentacled face. Jones seemed to tremble at her touch.

“I know of the danger you’re in, Finn,” said Chia seriously. “As long as Cutler Beckett has your heart, I know you’re beholden to him. But I have allies among this newest Brethren Court. If they convince the others to break my chains, as I’ve foreseen they will...then as soon as I am free, I will come for you. I will make sure you and I are never separated again...and I will make sure your captors suffer the consequences, for hurting the man I love.”

As her small white hands held his face, Jones’s face and frame suddenly began to morph. In an instant, the slimy texture, the tentacles clinging to his face, and his claw all vanished -- and there stood the tall, handsome pirate she’d fallen in love with so long ago.

Finn McGarry’s face broke out into a broken, soft smile. He stretched out his hand, caressing his love’s human cheek with more gentleness than his claw ever could have.

“Calypso...” he murmured.

Chia’s face broke out into a full smile as well. She knew she couldn’t permanently remove the fishy transformation, as it was something that had mutated Jones over the many years they’d been apart, due to his heartbreak and grief...but seeing him looking so much like his old self after so long...it made her currently human heart swell with love.

“Just as you gave me your heart, when you became captain of the Flying Dutchman,” she murmured, “so too will you always have mine.”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #potc au #au #pirates of the caribbean #carewyn cromwell #patricia rakepick #jacob #jacob cromwell #orion amari #chiara lobosca #percy weasley #jules farrier #finn mcgarry #other people's mcs #my art #my writing #these drawings and especially the writing took longer than I expected #oh orion you and carey truly do think alike!! you're both so good at reading people and adapting to them!!#why can't you be together the way you should?? DX #look at finn and chia! they're perfectly adorable!#don't you guys wanna be adorable too??#also yes beckett is a complete arsehole #I see him LOVING the fact that he has a new 'pet' who can bite into orion for him #i see beckett harboring a similar kind of resentment for orion as he did for jack in the original films #even if orion was much younger when he became a pirate I see beckett being that little bit younger too #and more importantly orion as an adult ended up being even more of a thorn in beckett's side #all thanks to beckett effectively robbing orion of the freedom to do anything else with his life but be a pirate #don't get me wrong orion's adapted well to being a pirate but you do lose some freedom being branded that way too #the freedom needed to return to port royal and go searching for this girl you once knew without being arrested for example :<

28 notes · View notes

bobcatmoran · 5 years ago

Text

Les Misérables: The Not-Scanlation, 3.3.1 (for real this time)

Previously on Les Mis Manga: Marius is the most Pontmercy to ever Pontmercy. Also I let Google Translate handle this in a previous April Fool’s post. Is it better than it used to be at this? Yes. Is it actually good at it yet? No.

Coming up: Pontmercying continues, this time with a bonus handkerchief.

With Covid-19 wreaking its terrible way through the globe and the governor’s “stay at home” order, I have an abundance of time on my hands and nearly a year’s worth of residual guilt over how I haven’t been working on the Les Mis manga translation. So I’m picking it up again! For real this time! I promise this is not done by Google Translate.

As always, beneath the cut are scans, followed by the script in my best attempt at translating (I continue to not be a pro at this, and corrections are always, always welcome). Translations up through this point as well as of the entirety of the barricade, can be found at my [manga masterpost]. Overviews of all the chapters I haven’t translated yet can be found there, too, up until the very final chapter.

I highly recommend buying the actual manga from any of the links [here]. The art truly is more amazing in person, and by buying either the Japanese original or official French translation, you’ll be supporting the artists! Note that Kinokuniya USA is, for the time being, only taking orders via email or phone since their online store is being updated and, of course, due to Covid-19, their physical stores are mostly closed.

Preview is scandalous:

Title: Book 3: Marius Chapter 3: Marius Alone, Searching for a Girl, Meets a Man

(all the Japanese text on these pages are the author credits and this volume’s table of contents)

SFX: *whoosh*

Jean Valjean: Are you all right?

Cosette: Yes.

Old Soldier: *grin*

Marius Pontmercy: Hmph.

Courfeyrac: So then, you thought about beating up that old soldier?! What a radical*! And with such an innocent face!

Guy standing on the table: Hahaha!

Courfeyrac: Marius, your true character is revealed!

Marius: He was looking at her sacred legs. So that sprang to mind.

Waitress: Sorry for the wait. Careful, it’s hot!

Jean Prouvaire: Ah, yes, the madness of passion.** Love makes a person act strangely.

Marius: Don’t make fun of me, Prouvaire.

*The word Courfeyrac uses, 過激, is for political radicals. He’s ribbing Marius not only about his ridiculous crush, but also his politics.

**Prouvaire’s remark is probably inspired by the waitress saying the food is hot, or 熱い. The word he uses for passion, 熱情, is made of the kanji for “hot” and “emotion.”

Prouvaire: It’s true, though. Do you just have to look upon her from a distance? It’s been about two years since you first noticed her in the park, right?

Marius: It’s not as if I felt this way from the beginning. But as I noticed her over time…

Prouvaire: …she became beautiful.

Grantaire: What kind of people are they, always appearing on the same bench at the same time, this “mysterious old man” and the “beautiful girl”?

Courfeyrac: Right, M. Leblanc and Mlle. Lanoire.

Grantaire: White and black?

Marius: Hey, Courfeyrac, knock it off with those nicknames.

Courfeyrac: I use those nicknames for a white-haired old man and a black-clothed young lady. It’s easy enough to understand.

Marius: Her name is not Lanoire.

Courfeyrac: ! Do you know her name?!

SFX: *rustle*

Marius: Her initials are “U.F.”

Courfeyrac: Lemme see!

Prouvaire: Hahaha.

Marius: Don’t touch it!

Grantaire: It’s hers?

Marius: It was left behind on the bench after she’d gone.

Grantaire: U.F? ……going by that…

Marius: I’ll bet it’s “Ursule.” It sounds so beautiful. Perfect for a sweet girl.

Courfeyrac: *snicker*

Marius: What?

Courfeyrac: Ah, Ursule! How sweet-smelling! *sniff* *sniff*

Prouvaire: Hahaha

Marius: D-don’t say such dumb things!! You shouldn’t do that!!

SFX: *patpat*

Courfeyrac: I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I’d do it to any guy who’s probably in love with a lady.

Marius: What?!

Prouvaire?: Haha, lay off already, Courfeyrac! Marius is embarrassed!

Marius: Ursule…… I feel your soul…

Next time on Les Mis Manga: Marius continues to Pontmercy and I almost die of second-hand embarrassment for him.

#les miserables #les mis manga #attempts at translation #marius pontmercy #cosette #courfeyrac #jean prouvaire #grantaire

21 notes · View notes

coelenterata · 5 years ago

Note

MABEUF, can Mabeuf and Mother Plutarch somehow be happy ;__;

Of COURSE they can, also guess which fool came up with an idea, then had a bad brain time and procrastinated for, what, two weeks, then wrote most of a 2k fic in one evening jesus christ why this. I got a little bit hung up on being clever about the set-up, but here’s a diverging into a happier universe! Three times Mabeuf didn’t befriend Valjean and one time he did, I guess??

—

Despite there being little chance of someone leaving their address in their purse, Mabeuf empties the purse and checks, and is, so to speak, lucky: there is a piece of paper in there that looks like a letter, a short note but a letter nonetheless, with an address on it that is mostly readable, and the seal of the letter is broken, so presumably the owner of the purse was its recipient.

Mabeuf copies the address, and then he puts everything back into the purse, counted out and counted back in, and tells Mother Plutarch of his discovery.

She looks less relieved than he feels, and he understands, because he is already not much relieved, but what has to be done has to be done, for the sake of doing the right thing, and if there hadn’t been the letter he would have found some other way to try and return the purse to its owner.

As it is, the letter was there, and he has an address, and the very next day he sets out.

Rue de l’Ouest, it said, and he doesn’t quite know how to get there, and he does not like to have to ask strangers for directions, so he walks to a bookshop he knows, and he asks for directions there and gets them, though he also gets an irritated look.

No matter: he knows where to go, and he goes, even as his feet get tired, and he finds the street and he finds the right house, and he finds the porter.

It’s an odd conversation, it seems to be two conversations, the porter is suspicious and confused and Mabeuf is confused and attempting to return a purse to a man who has apparently moved out, but finally the porter does accept the purse and does promise to send it on to its rightful owner, and Mabeuf leaves, relieved and tired and still not sure who “you people” is (“my name is Mabeuf,” he had said, confused, not sure how to say, and I am not part of any we or you), and why the porter thought he meant harm (he had gotten very angry about Mabeuf’s question of the purse’s owner’s new address), or what kind of harm that would be.

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, the purse will get back to the man it belongs to, and Mabeuf will go home, where everything is as it has been, familiar if nothing else.

For all that Toussaint loves the Fauchelevent family, she does have to admit that they are strange; Cosette not so much, or only in the ways a girl naturally would end up, having been raised in a convent as horrid as the one Cosette was raised in, and then strange in some of the ways a girl is if nobody tells her to be neat and quiet, but Toussaint likes that about Cosette, feels overwhelming fondness for this girl who dresses in silk and then goes to dig in the dirt and never stops being fascinated by the world. Monsieur Fauchelevent, on the other hand, is decidedly an odd one, and it becomes seldom more obvious than when Toussaint is doing the shopping and has been tasked to buy for him what he would find too cheap to give to her, a mere servant.

At least this is not a thing visible to others – there is a woman next to Toussaint this day at the market who is getting more and more embarrassed about the small sum of money she has and the pitiful amount of food she can afford to buy, and from her half-sentences, Toussaint learns that she isn’t only feeding herself, but a master, too.

“Here,” says Toussaint, finally, pulls out the money given to her in addition to what she needed, in case there would be an occasion to give alms, and hands it to the other woman, who continues for another few words, and then stops and stares.

“My God,” she says, “You don’t have to– that is, I would be very grateful, you see we would have had money enough for a while, but Monsieur Mabeuf insisted that a purse that falls from the heavens must be returned to its owner, and– that is, thank you.”

Toussaint smiles, and nods, and thinks that name sounds familiar, thinks she may know whose purse it was, but isn’t sure enough in that knowledge or in herself to say anything more, and they both buy what they need to, and go their separate ways home.

Mabeuf wanders, sometimes, to distract himself, walks and walks, looking furtively into the gardens of others when he passes by, finding himself far away from the bustling city without consciously choosing the streets that will lead him out, without even reading the street names.

It’s a good distraction, it is, from everything, it is a relief to go out with a book under his arm and no intention of giving it away, and no intention of talking to anyone either; it is good to be where there is air and dreamlike familiar unfamiliarity of his surroundings, it is good to see other people’s gardens, flowers blooming elsewhere even if his own won’t quite.

He doesn’t get too lost usually, but sometimes he does, and so too this day, lost in thought and in worry and then lost in winding streets, and when he looks up again he knows no roof and no door and no name, and there is a walled-off garden there that he hasn’t seen before, and before he can get more immediately worried in addition to the old, long worries, he gets a proper glimpse of that garden through a gate a few steps ahead, and has to pause and look at it, look at it until his eyes and mind and heart are full, because it is a beautiful garden, different from his, not at all how he would have his garden, but undeniably beautiful.

It is confirmation that he hasn’t been here before, too – to have forgotten the name of Rue Plumet wouldn’t have been surprising; to have forgotten this garden… impossible.

Even though he knows it’s in part because he is tired and tired and tired, in every way, he thinks he could look at this garden forever, at its fullness and its buzzing life and its green glowing safety.

How long he stands there, he doesn’t know, but when he is pulled out of his thoughts it is by the voice of a girl standing inside the garden some feet away from the gate.

“Monsieur, are you lost?”, she says, amusedly and kindly.

She looks like the spirit of this garden, Mabeuf thinks, and mutely shakes his head.

“Well, are you looking for anyone?”, the girl further inquires, and, “I doubt it would be us, we do not get visitors, but…”

“No, no,” says Mabeuf, halting, already moving away, “my apologies. Your garden is beautiful.”

And he turns around and leaves, to get more lost until he finds a familiar place that will help guide him home.

It has been difficult from the beginning, to sell his books, and it gets harder with each one, because the lesser pains are already over with. He wishes it would stop, this gradual worsening loss, but it won’t, and so he is selling another book, selling what is to him equivalent to his life, only to live a bit longer.

The bookseller looks at the book with a frown, and tells him the price he would pay, and Mabeuf cannot bear it, and he asks for a moment to consider, and gets to hold his book a little longer, and stands there clutching it to his chest and then paging through it reverently, and when he is about to say goodbye to it, a broad-shouldered man approaches, quietly, goes past Mabeuf and takes care not to bump into him and goes up to the bookseller, and lets Mabeuf have another minute, he thinks, only the bookseller tells the stranger that there is another man who is in the process of selling, and to wait, and Mabeuf has to step forward, no matter how little he wants to.

The stranger, kind-faced, looks at Mabeuf, and Mabeuf knows how he must look, tottering, clutching at his book like it is alive, like it was alive and has died and he can’t bear to know it just yet.

Mabeuf sells his book as quickly as he can, even as the stranger watches and the bookseller looks bored and disapproving, and then he tries to leave as quickly as he can, too, but the stranger reaches out a hand, halts him.

“Allow me,” says the stranger, “to buy your book, and gift it back to you.”

“I,” says Mabeuf, “You. I don’t follow?”

The stranger bows his head a little.

“It looked important to you, the book. I would like to see that you do not have to give it away.”

Mabeuf blinks at the stranger, and stutters, and the stranger smiles, and turns to the bookseller and tells him that he wants to buy the book, and the bookseller too looks dumbstruck but takes the money and hands over the book, and Mabeuf has not moved at all by the time the stranger turns back to him and presents him with his book.

“Thank you–”, Mabeuf stumbles over the words, reaches for his book, and the man is still smiling.

They stand there, for a moment that is not as awkward as Mabeuf thinks it should be, but still very very strange, and then the man clears his throat.

“What is your name?”

Like this isn’t the strangest and kindest thing anyone has ever done for Mabeuf.

“Mabeuf,” he says, and clutches his book helplessly to his chest.

The man bows his head again, and smiles yet deeper, a little amused in the grave kindness now.

“Fauchelevent. And I believe I’ve heard your name before. Did you by chance return a purse some time ago that had come to you from the heavens?”

And that is when things change, Mabeuf will think later, though of course they nearly changed many times before, and what comes later will come partly because near-misses came before; this will be not one book saved but all of them, though Mabeuf doesn’t know that yet, he is still merely grateful and confused, and for once not just uncomfortable talking to someone he doesn’t know, and so he only nods, quietly affirms, accepts this coincidence.

Fauchelevent nods too, decisive.

“Let me return to you the purse that is rightfully yours, then,” he says. “I don’t think I have the full amount with me, but if you would give me your address, I will visit tomorrow and return it.”

Mabeuf stammers again, and the bookseller coughs pointedly and they both apologize and move away, next to each other, and then they stand in the street and Fauchelevent is still expectant and Mabeuf wants to cry and laugh in confused gratitude, and Fauchelevent is starting to lament his lack of foresight in not having a writing implement, and then a carriage moves past them and someone waves on the other side of the street and a bright voice calls out.

A girl of maybe sixteen, dressed in what must surely be the height of fashion because the dress looks very expensive, comes hurrying towards them, followed by a woman who must be a housekeeper, and the girl exclaims a greeting to Monsieur Fauchelevent, whom she calls Papa, and then stops and looks between her Papa and Mabeuf, smiling, and Mabeuf recognizes with not a little bewilderment the girl from that garden, the very spirit of that garden, and she smiles at him too, when she has finished the long sentence she had directed at her father about ribbons and too about rye bread, Mabeuf does not understand anything.

“You found your way home then, those weeks ago?”, she says, still smiling. “I wasn’t aware you knew my father.”

“We only just met,” the father in question says, smiling faintly now too, though a little wary, and, “this is Monsieur Mabeuf. Monsieur Mabeuf, my daughter Cosette.”

Definitely wary, but Mabeuf is too confused to do anything but bow his head politely and start to look to Fauchelevent again, only there is another interruption.

The housekeeper has made a surprised noise, and flushes a little when the Fauchelevents both turn to look at her.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she says, falling over her syllables, and to Mabeuf, “Your housekeeper is well? I never asked for her name, I–”

“As– as well as can be expected, given the circumstances,” says Mabeuf, still more confused, and he will never remember, later, how the conversation ends, but he remembers always that he must have given Fauchelevent his address, because Fauchelevent visits the next day, and gifts Mabeuf not only the amount of money that was in the purse but twice it, and talks to Mabeuf about books and about plants first only politely and then like he too cares very much about the subjects, and he is knowledgeable and he listens and he insists on Mabeuf keeping the money, and then he makes to leave when it has been a lot longer than is polite to keep a guest or to bother a host, and when he puts on his hat again and bows and turns away, Mabeuf gets up too, and gets together his courage, and says, “would you visit again?”

Fauchelevent turns to him again, looking surprised.

“Only,” says Mabeuf, “I’ve enjoyed your company. I don’t– this isn’t about the money. I have enjoyed your company and conversation. Please visit again, if you have the time.”

And Fauchelevent looks not amused at the clumsy attempt to ask for friendship, but as surprised now as someone who has never been offered friendship, and after a moment he nods, and smiles, and then he does leave.

And he returns the next day, and the next, and the next.

And brings a book, and brings a greeting from his daughter and a greeting from Toussaint to Mother Plutarch, and brings another book, and another, and brings his daughter, and brings among protests more money, and brings books again and again for Mabeuf to keep, and most of all he brings his company.

Mabeuf is very glad for Fauchelevent’s friendship, a thing he never thought he would be able to say and mean about anyone, and he thinks maybe Fauchelevent is glad too, and just as surprised by it as Mabeuf.

#pilferingapples #replies tag #my fic #Maren Why Is All Of Your Fic Too Long #it's because i'm very stupid! sorry!!

45 notes · View notes

maraschinocheri · 5 years ago

Text

A novel no one needed on the Les Mis filmed concert: 1,800+ words of stuff and nonsense.

The first thing that jumps into my head is that I am so glad the concert run is over, and the second is that it’s a very strange feeling when the strongest vocal performances on stage seemed to belong to Enjolras, Eponine, and … Cosette. But let’s get the rest of it all over with first.

• Alfie Boe’s acting has improved since he last played Valjean, thankfully, but good lord, he really needs to not get involved in any even moderately extended run of anything, because he clearly cannot hack it physically or vocally. And while it may seem churlish to say so, I am so bored of his Valjean. Warble warble warble, seeming so out of place with everyone else’s voices, and just. Enough. He looked lovely, of course, and I’m sure his fans truly enjoyed this repeat of him in the role, when … he was actually there, but he sounded absolutely exhausted. I’m afraid I spent a lot of his performance wishing I were watching JOJ on film instead.

• Michael Ball’s mention during the encore that this was his last performance as Javert seems a fair thing; he is not—and never was— meant for this role on any level (I maintain he has all the threatening menace of Snidely Whiplash), though Stars was not bad, especially because he left himself, you know, sing and not bark or growl or spend so much damn time and energy trying to not be *~MICHAEL BALL~*. The gritted teeth “m’sieur! mayor!” was just a boring choice, the Confrontation was a muddy mess, the Intervention played too much for comic effect (though MASSIVE POINTS for bringing back the original why the hell did he run? instead of why on earth did he run?), the barricade scenes had too little punch, the Sewers had so much potential that disappeared, but …

But. While Ball’s is not my preferred style of Javert and never could be, I have to take a deep breath and blinkingly applaud his wild leaping commitment to batshittery in the Suicide. I mean, if you’re going for full on batshit at that point, you have to really sell it, and with any luck make it a different range of batshit than previous batshit Javerts, and he did. My dad, the sole member of my family not much prone to show commentary, said “That was excellent.” firmly after the Suicide, and a part of me grudgingly agreed. But please, never again, Michael. Honestly I think he’s relieved it’s done.

(Also honestly, the most amusing moment of the entire concert experience for me was my mother’s interval exclamation that she had “a new boyfriend!” Assuming she meant Bwadders, I laughed and asked oh really, who? And she said … Javert. After I recovered myself, I reminded her that Javert was Michael. Ball., who has been at one stage or another my—and everyone else’s—mother’s boyfriend since 1985. She had entirely forgotten he was playing Javert in the concert and was bizarrely fooled by wig and costume, but assured me that even now, she “could swim in his dimples.” My mother, everyone.)

• Shan Ako was a marvelous Eponine, and I loved her On My Own. She’ll be great fun to watch in the actual production, I think, and I so appreciated a tough cookie Eponine with old school vocal power but newer school technique and touch and oh my god subtlety without losing anything in characterization, even given the limitations of a concert performance. Houchen’s Marius wouldn’t have deserved her, anyway.

• Speaking of Houchen. You know, I was fond of Rob while he was in his actual run as Marius, but he’s absolutely checked out of it mentally and emotionally, and it shows. He still has a lovely voice that really works as Marius sometimes, but there’s nothing … there underneath the pretty sheen, and after the few years’ distance since his proper run, I’ve seen enough Marii who enjoyed the role and found substance in it that the lack of depth in Rob’s take was disappointing. However, I acknowledge that some of Marius’ actual-show chances of showing range don’t happen in the concert version, and perhaps if they’d been included my opinion would change. He knows he’s aged out the role now, however, and I highly doubt he’d ever want to do it again even if invited to do so. But who knows.

• I walked into the concert film with no opinion of Lily Kerhoas’ Cosette other than knowing she could sing it beautifully, but I was actually impressed—and sort of want to sit nearly every principal Cosette of the last, oh, decade in front of her performance and say, see you’re allowed to act; it can actually work—and I look forward to her work in the proper show as well, especially if they get her some costumes that actually fit and don’t look made of tissue.

• God, I hate Matt Lucas. The end.

• Katy Secombe has added some different touches to her Madame T, some good, and some—obviously Lucas-influenced—bad. It’s unfortunate that some of the Thenardier ~comedy absolutely cannot work in a concert setting—the wedding was awful—but she made a decent hash of a bad deal.

• Which brings me to Bwadders. Oh, Bradley. He’s just so very, very good at Enjolras, and always has been. This concert!jolras, however, had one very different vibe from his run’s take on the role, which was … a hopefulness, maybe? A joy and breathless hope running beneath the passion passion PASSION that’s always been there, and it was beautiful to watch in his eyes and mannerisms. The concert contained Bradley somewhat, in that his strong physicality wasn’t allowed to sort of fill the room (and barricade) as it had at the Queens, and I missed that. Also—and there is no getting around this, sadly, for me—that manbun still ain’t it. (Gingerfather—whose fave character in the show is Enjolras—just sighed heavily and said that there should’ve just been one of the Ponytails of Yore instead, and you know, he’s not wrong.) Bradley also nailed two of the three Big Notes, but his until the earth is free was done differently from how he approached it during his real run, and not for the better (the Ghost of THAXTON giveth, and it taketh away). And yet … it didn’t matter. It truly didn’t. He was the best of the principals, and at least for me would probably have been even if he’d bollocked the other two Big Notes as well. Anyway, Bwadders. A thrill to watch, and alive with energy so much of the show otherwise lacked.

• You will note no mention yet of Fletcher. I refer to the point above re: Matt Lucas.

• The Amis, as one. I am aware that many, many people adore Raymond Walsh’s Grantaire, and I entirely understand why. He was fine. Craig Mather’s Combeferre and Niall Sheehy’s Courfeyrac both allowed both actors to show off some real oomph in their voices, though I’m still much too rattled by a Courfeyrac wearing Joly’s clothes. I love Vinny Coyle because he’s just so obviously, thrillingly in love with the show, but he’s also a fabulous Feuilly, and I merrily handwave the not-so-great we’ll be therrrre because a) it’s a horrendous note few people can carry well, and b) I’ve seen and heard him do it brilliantly so many other times when he was covering Feuilly as a swing. And it was delicious to see Will Jennings as a background onstage SwingAmi. Everyone else was just sort of … there, though all very pretty. It was extremely clear who had been in casts properly educated and invested in the show, but that’s a record I’ve played enough.

• I will never not love seeing Sarah Lark, Jo Loxton, and Tamsin Dowsett. I also deeply appreciate seeing Oli Brenin doing everything, everywhere, all the time.

• It is never not wonderful seeing Earl Carpenter bishoping, but my god EARL WHAT EVEN with that Bamatabois. What even. There was active squeaky recoiling happening in my row.

• Gavroche was excellent and adorable and GINGER. Full marks.

• And so to the encores. The only point I could see to the coat handover from Michael to Bradley was to give Michael a Moment along the lines of the Valjeanfest, as it’s not like the role of Javert is new to Bradley. However, I was fascinated by the strangeness of the harmonized Stars, and I think I need to watch and listen to it again about a thousand times to really confirm my proper opinion. I know Bradley doesn’t sing Stars that high for real—and certainly doesn’t need to—and what they did here doesn’t really … show his approach to the role, but it was interesting, and I give them credit for the try. (I did attempt to imagine others—let’s be real, I was imagining THAXTON—even being asked to make a go of this, and my imagined Thaxtonic response will make for excellent nightmare fuel.)

• Then, then, then. All Valjeans all the time, including some Potato in a tour costume that still has me hissing at its wrongness. Anyway! Leaving aside Alfie—whose section just really sounded like jesus christ I cannot believe I have to do this again; I just want to lie down for a thousand years and block Cameron’s number from any further contact with me put to music—I found the whole thing much more palatable than the 25th anniversary Valjeanfest, perhaps mostly because of my fave part of the whole concert—the whole two lines JOJ and Killian shared—but also because the four Valjeans not actively praying for their own deaths all seemed to have physical, emotional, and vocal respect for the role, the show, the audience, and each other. It was a strange joy to watch.

Which, truly, this concert was as well, in enough places to ensure that I will buy the inevitable DVD. On some occasions I may even start its playback before Look Down (Paris). Maybe.

(One more small thought, though, on this concert and why I am glad it’s over: I know the run sparked a lot of joy for a lot of people, but if I saw one more bitchy tweet from the cast members I might have screamed. Are some audience members dickheads? Absolutely. Then enforce the fucking rules. Train and allow your FOH to go after those people (and force the management to back the FOH staff up!), remove them, throw one of the old pest catcher boxes from under the Queens seats at them, whatever. But shut up. I don’t even follow any of the whingers I saw! Twitter just enjoyed throwing their tweets into my feed like a toddler’s wall-splattering food. #blessed)

Anyway. That’s that done. The show’s world turns, though obviously it no longer revolves.

#ginger is headed this way with an opinion #natter natter natter

4 notes · View notes

centrifuge-politics · 6 years ago

Text

Brick Club 3.5.6, 3.6.1

Who is this women frowning at Theodule? I want to hear from her.

Gillenormad references Hernani. Mr. Hugo, sir? Is this allowed? This book is already an exercise in self projection, don’t you think you ought to pull it back some?

I can’t quite discern the nature of the event Gillenormand is so upset about. Students are gathering to have an open forum of sorts concerning the citizen militia and a cannon placed in the Louvre but I can’t follow Gillenormand’s argument in regard to either the debate or the cannon itself. This could be entirely intentional since his point seems to just be: “All these foolish brats have political opinions. They ought to be strictly forbidden to have any political opinions. They fabricate systems, they reform society, they demolish monarchy, they upset all laws...” Young people and their ideas! He then insults Native Americans just to round out his every-white-grandfather mien.

Poor Theodule can’t win. In Wilbour, Gillenormand calls him a fool. He fares worse in Wraxall.

“Vous êtes un imbécile.”

Gillenormand is hankering for a good argument to raise his spirits, if he can’t have the quiet, unquestioning obedience that Marius showed him. Theodule is too obviously sycophantic to satisfy the role Marius left vacant. And, besides, Gillenormand put years of work into poisoning Marius against the world outside the salon; Theodule’s spirit hasn’t been crushed and tethered to Gillenormand’s own sense of self importance. What Gillenormand really wants is someone he can possess entirely and Marius is the only person who can be that for him, someone who never had ulterior motives for obeying G, until he turned Bonapartist. With that in mind, the fact that Marius eventually returns to Gillenormand’s house makes the end of the book a little darker. (And continues to prove my argument that Marius is thematically inconsistent)

Marius is now a snack. He’s the Snow White of 19th century Paris and all the ladies swoon when he walks past. “He thought they looked at him on account of his old clothes, and that they were laughing at him; the truth is, that they looked at him because of his graceful appearance, and that they dreamed over it.” Ah, Pontmercying at its finest.

Courfeyrac teases him mercilessly, as he should.

I love outside perspectives of Valjean and Cosette because it illustrates how close and loving they are and I think it’s just the most wonderful thing in this entire book. The fact that he so obviously cares for her, “an unutterable expression of fatherliness [ineffable paternité],” and that she trusts him so implicitly and feels comfortable sharing her thoughts with him...it’s just so pure and lovely.

#brickclub #3.5.6 #3.6.1 #les mis #the way old people criticize young people is just by stating their exact goals #'young people want to destroy the systems that govern our society and reform it! they want everyone to have free healthcare and benefits!'#like yeah thats exactly what we want #im sorry is this a critique?#as for cosette and marius #would it have killed hugo to make her a little older?#when i first read this i was younger than cosette is here so the age difference looked very different #like how 16 feels like adulthood when youre a 12 yr old reading YA #and 20 is unknowably far off #but now im closer in age to marius and the whole thing squicks me out a lot

30 notes · View notes

badlydrawndrawnings · 6 years ago

Text

Persona 5 AU

You know, I figure I should talk about how Haru and Goro swap roles as a result of their father swapping roles.

Haru Okumura (Takakura) [Arcana: Justice/Fool aka Wild Card] <- Goro Akechi (Shido) [Arcana: Not Stating]

As the Beautiful Detective Princess, Haru is beloved by girls and boys, men and women, for different reasons. Girls look up to her, women see her as breaking boundaries, boys just find her cool and cute, and men...split if she's going to last long. A sweet, kind heart girl with a strong sense of justice, she finds the PT's actions as criminal due to their methods (however, when the PT’s name get damage after the death of Kaneshiro and Shido, she believes their innocence of the murders). In her spare time, she enjoys ballet and gardening (she has a nice small garden at home). No one knows she is Okumura's bastard daughter, or the fact she moonlights as a supernatural hitman in the Metaverse. Everyone only knows her as (Eiji) Takakura, 'niece' (first cousin once removed; easier to say niece), as Haru’s mother was a cousin of his. (This is of course a cover story; Haru isn’t related to Takakura at all. Okumura ask the man to take in the child, saying she’s the daughter of a friend of a friend. Takakura suspects otherwise, but will never speak thoughts.)

Despite the love and care Takakura gives her (Takakura wants what’s best for Haru), Haru is driven to be acknowledge by Okumura, wanting him to admit he left her and his former fiancee alone, and plans to get that by getting him to prime minister, only to reveal the truth after the election. Haru gets along well with Sae, in part for not asking for sushi. Haru worries for Sae a lot, and sometimes brings Sae fresh vegetables for her and her sister to eat. (Makoto is jealous of Haru for having the better relationship with Sae, but grows out of it by the time of the Space Station Palace).

Haru joins the PT after showing them the photos of them entering Shido’s Palace. She blackmails to steal the heart of the Sixth Palace Owner, in exchange for However, her plans on betraying them differs. Originally planing on 'selling' the PT out and shooting Joker in the head (the PT never suspects Haru as being the Persona User working with the conspiracy), the fact that one party member left and rejoin so quickly nip it. So Haru play nice with everyone in Okumura's Palace, but she let one slip up: one room is fully biometric, meaning it can only be access by 'people' with authority...or with Okumura's blood. The PT realize this too late.

Haru traps them all, explaining they're all going to die. She gives out her backstory and her motives, and she and the PT fight (the PT, especially Goro of all people, try to reason with her). She is brought back to her senses, and the PT agree to finish the job together when Cognitive!Haru shows up, injuring Haru. Everyone learns Okumura knew of Haru's plan, and learn about Okumura's plan for Haru after the election, that she was going to suffer a fate worse than death. However, it may be better to kill her now. The PT (re: one PT member) intervene and kills Cognitive!Haru. While Haru does live, her injuries in the Metaverse ended up causing her to into comatose in the real world for the rest of the game, even in the final battle. She wakes up after Ren/Akira/Joker is in jail, and she gets Sae for the two to switch places.

I joking applied game mechanics and figure her Co-Op/Confidant story is automatic moving with the plot, but it isn’t going to like Goro’s with the EXP bonus. Her Special Bonus and Skills is being able to grow vegetables at Shujin Academy, accessable at rank 2, 4, and 5, (2 it's here does Haru bring up her love of gardening) as she and Ren/Akira/Joker meet at random places and it just ranks up. When she becomes a party member, she gets all the regular members skills except one.

On a more serious note, Milady is no longer Haru's Initial Persona. Frankly, keeping Milady in this AU doesn’t seem like a good idea. Honestly torn between Irene Adler, being 'the woman' that outsmarted Joker and the PT for a good while, or Josephine Balsamo, as she is part of the Lupin lore. Ultimate Persona is Eris, Goddess of Discord. Also, I like to think that Haru keeps her almost all her Persona skills as in canon, expect she now has Deliberate.

Being the son of Masayoshi Shido is a heavy burden, especially given the fact Goro knows he's really Shido’s bastard child (Shido’s attempt to hide it from his son fail). A brilliant, cold, standoffish third year at Shujin, he's a stickler for keeping the status quo, which makes many students afraid of him. Everyone that does get the chance to speak/know him think of him as a haughty prick that needs to be taken down a few pegs, as Goro tends to insult people he views ‘lower’ than him. That being said, everyone can’t deny he a food lover with good taste (mostly with fancy tuna sushi,) and athletically build (favorite sports is rock climbing; darts is his second).

Goro is honestly a sensitive, decent person. His behavior is just an attempt on keeping people at arm lengths, as he is in full self-loathing on his true status, and believes people will treat him differently. Goro joining the PT isn’t like Haru; while he has access to the Navi App (for quite awhile actually), he never half awaken his Persona. He put in a request to change the heart of his father as a result, but nothing came of it...until recently, as Shido is now the number one requested person (which shocks the PT as they can’t find too much dirt on him). Goro only learns of the PT identity's after the PT fail to figure out Shido’s Palace Location or Keyword. Goro is a tag-along, and awakens after seeing the Cognitive Version of his mother: a cannibalistic, fire monster-like human on its legs (Shido doesn’t have good opinions of Ms. Akechi), screaming at him for killing her and ruining her life. After defeating her and leaving the Metaverse, Goro tells the PT the truth of his family, and his father’s crime in regards to his friends at the National Diet and for the business.

Seeing Shido's death in front of him took a toll, being reminded of finding his mother's dead body. He leaves the PT for part of the exploration of Sixth Target’s Palace, to make peace with everything, and rejoins after Haru joins (he is glad the PT had an extra pair of hands). Goro’s role in getting Joker out of police custody is...complicated, and that will be discussed later. All I can say is that Goro has to be a red herring, as he and the PT agree he should contact the Conspiracy.

Goro is the PT member that saves Haru after she almost dies from her Cognitive self. While he never plans on forgiving her, he tells Haru he can empathize, as he too is a bastard child, and would have probably done the same thing if Shido had not taken him in (then Haru goes into coma). Goro is with Haru when she awaken, and he tells her what happen while she was out.

Having Robin Hood as his Initial Persona seems odd, so it's between Inspector Javert, being 'scum' of society that made his way to be a proper member of society, or Jean Valjean, as he is 'changed' and wants to do better. Ultimate Persona is Loki because I want to keep him. I like to think that the skills are the same, but now he has Heat Riser (or Luster Candy).

I say Co-Op/Confidant storyline would be Goro and the the aftermath of Shido’s death, trying to become a better person, and being ‘in charge’ of the Red Lodge business. It’s in quotes as Goro is still in high school and needs to go to college before he fully takes over, so he’s stuck dealing with the philosophies Shido’s partners that are on account, clean: silent yet seemingly loyal Hitomi Makimura and eccentric yet ambitious Kou Kougami, If I joking add game mechanics, his bonus and skills are an enhancement of the Demon Negotiation (loosely inspired by some of the games files that show Goro was going to have skills/bonuses). If Joker made the wrong choice, he gets another chance. It evolves to where he can get two extra chances, with the high chance of getting the correct choice, leading to the Demon to 100 agree to what Joker want (Giving money, item, or being a Persona) for three times.

Reading this over made me realize I just put some Persona 1 elements. Haru is the Reiji, as while raised by someone that cares for them, they still want that sweet revenge. Goro is the Nanjo, watching someone they care for died in front of them, and a dickweed (not on the levels of Nanjo though) that grows out of it.

#persona 5 #persona 5 au #idk what to actually name this au #haru okumura #goro akechi #this is a text post #i just realize something #i legit stole names from kamen rider ooo and changed them a bit

5 notes · View notes