Day 21: Night
#tapetum lucidum is the name of a layer of tissue in the eye of some animals that reflects light back through the retinas #causing the phenomenon known as ‘eyeshine’. #it allows for superior night vision and for this reason is usually found in nocturnal animals #especially carnivores #and those that hunt their prey at night.
"Oh, no," Stiles says, bent double and nearly breathless with laughter. "No, no, no."
"You asked for this," Derek reminds him, awkwardly shuffling to the beat of ‘1999’ with his elbows pulled in tight at the waist. He throws in a dorky spin, pointing finger-guns at Stiles on the downbeat, and Stiles can’t breathe.
"I thought you had secret dancing skills," Stiles admits, watching fondly as Derek does a series of dumb disco-adjacent gestures. "I didn’t bring you to this wedding with me so you could shame me and all of your ancestors on the dance floor."
"Watch this," Derek says, and is about to ineptly moonwalk right over the hem of Allison’s wedding dress until Stiles yanks him back into place by his suspenders.
"Oh my god. You’re a tragedy, Hale. All that body and no clue what to do with it.”
“Hey," Derek protests, eyebrows furrowing.
"I can’t believe your hips would just lie to me like that.”
"By the way, I was already invited to this wedding, asshole,” Derek reminds him. “I’m an usher.”
"And you didn’t fall down!" Stiles pats his cheek condescendingly. "Which I now realize is a beautiful miracle."
"All right, that’s it," Derek says ominously, and stops mid-shuffle to make a beeline for the DJ booth.
Stiles knows he’s in some kind of danger when Prince cuts off abruptly, replaced by a smoky, pulsing tango.
"Did you threaten the DJ," he asks weakly, backing away a little as Derek stalks toward him, "because he’s actually Allison’s cousin and there could be repercussions to—"
"Stop talking," Derek says, and draws Stiles flush against him in one fluid, violent movement.
"Buh," Stiles says, and then feels every inch of his skin start to tingle when Derek starts leading him. With his hips.
"I only like some kinds of dancing,” Derek says, disgustingly smug. “No. Don’t. Chin up, look at me. That’s it. Dip,” he warns, casually draping Stiles over his arm.
I deserve this, Stiles thinks, staring mournfully backwards at the floor while the heat of Derek’s palm burns through his cummerbund.
Derek pulls him back up, slots their cheeks together, and takes a gliding step, encouraging Stiles along with a confident press of his thigh. “I requested a rumba after this,” he says in Stiles’ ear.
“Fine,” Stiles groans, heart racing. “But after, we’re doing the motherfucking Macarena.”
"The earth laughs in flowers."
- Ralph Waldo Emerson.
- My brother, giving his neighbor’s kid some life advice. (via apiratecalledav)
We’re drunk on a boat in San Diego… What could they expect? - Tyler Hoechlin
theatre company au
Enjolras as the director who chooses socially and politically relevant productions and has an extraordinarily keen eye for what the production needs in order to convey the messages in the most effective and striking way
Combeferre as the stage manager who not only is organized and unbelievably calm and collected under pressure, but he knows where everyone is as all times without fail and makes sure everyone else knows where everyone else is and where they should be (with the motley crew he works with, this is an astounding feat indeed)
Courfeyrac as the extremely talented and charming leading player who draws crowds with his poignant and awe-inspiring performances and keeps crowds with his exceedingly charming and delightful demeanor as stage door when greeting fans and will always stay and sign playbills and take pictures with anyone who wants one, and often ends up staying well past when many of the other actors have taken off because he’s genuinely enjoying himself chatting with fans (and word gets around when an actor is exceptionally talented AND exceptionally friendly and gracious to fans to boot)
Feuilly as the artistic/technical director, who takes Enjolras’ vision and makes sure all aspects (at least visually) are not only stunning and cohesive with each other and the story, but also in the realm of physically possible to construct and build (Feuilly is also the scenic designer for the shows, and his collaboration with Enjolras generally ends with him exceeding Enjolras’ expectations over and over again and Enjolras maybe falling a bit in love with Feuilly’s dumb fantastic brain)
Bahorel as the costume designer, who—while sporting a loud and statement-making fashion of his own—has a fantastic eye for what colors/cuts/styles convey what about a character, and has an uncanny ability of thrifting the perfect finishing touches to accentuate his designs even more, all while staying wonderfully under-budget, and because he and Feuilly are so close and in sync with each other, the costumes never clash with the scenery (he is also exceptional at detail-work, and gets incredibly excited at any opportunity to add any intricate stitching or bead detail onto costume)
Bossuet as the lighting designer, who takes Feuilly’s sets and Bahorel’s costumes and Courfeyrac’s (and the other players’) face and breaths even more life into them with light, with a well-trained eye for when subtlety is necessary and when a particular character or set piece needs to have everyone’s eyes on them/it in a big way, and creating a overall tone that sets the mood for Enjolras’ productions perfectly (he is very thankful for Gavroche, who rigs all of the lights per his instructions and has a way of getting around on the grid that Bossuet could never hope to do safely)
Grantaire as the lead scenic artist, who takes Feuilly’s gorgeous designs and brings them to life with his skillful hands that paint and sculpt, and who grumbles occasionally whenever Feuilly gets particularly spectacular and elaborate with a backdrop or a building exterior or a platform detail, but always executes them beautifully (even though sometimes, he’ll admit, he gets a bit caught up in the details while he’s working—he’s an artist who works with canvas and sketchbook, after all, and sometimes he loses himself in the details and forgets that audiences generally won’t see that particular stone pattern from 30 feet away)
Prouvaire as the resident playwright and dramaturg, who uses his gift with words to weave stories that fit Enjolras’ political and social ideals, but with a poetry and wordplay and dialogue that is spell-binding, witty, and often a little morbid, though most of his time is spent as the company’s dramaturg, using his love of history and sociology to provide the players and designers and director with extensive research on a time period/culture/political ideology/societal impact/social and historical context/etc. of whatever particular production the company is putting on
Joly as the box office manager, who keeps track of tickets and ticket sales, and runs the box office with an ever-present smile on his face and packet of tissues and travel-sized hand sanitizer in his pocket (not because he’s afraid of all of the germs people buying tickets will bring, but because he’s afraid that his seemingly ever-present cold might pass on germs to everyone else) and enjoys seeing the excited faces of an elderly couple or a small group of friends who receive their tickets
Marius as an usher, who can’t afford to see the shows on his own dime, but wants to support Courfeyrac (his roommate) in any way that he can, so he signs up so be an usher for most shows so he can see them for free (he also becomes quite smitten with the daughter of a shop owner down the street from the playhouse who fervently supports the arts in any way he can and so attends all of the productions, bringing his daughter with him)
Eponine also as an usher, as she is also unable to pay to see the shows, and wants to attend partially because Gavroche is really excited about working on these shows and she wants to support him (because if he’s here, he’s not out on the streets getting into all kinds of trouble) and partially because of that guy she’s been crushing on since who-knows-when also works as an usher and she’ll take any time she can spend with him that she can get (though one day Grantaire happens upon her sitting in the alley by the playhouse crying, and he wordlessly slides down the wall next to her, offers her his flask, and they’ve been friends ever since—soon after, Grantaire discovers Eponine does her own alterations on her and Gavroche’s clothes, since they can’t afford to buy new ones very often and she gets bored wearing the same 4 shirts and 2 pairs of pants all the time, and Grantaire introduces her to Bahorel, who is “fuckin’ thrilled to find someone who fuckin’ knows how to do a fuckin’ blind hem stitch”, and so she starts working in the costume shop as Bahorel’s apprentice)
Bahorel (and Eponine! Getting recognized for her actual skills! HECK YES) being a costume designing fiend is a great big HECK YES
but I think I’m even MORE delighted about Bossuet getting pinned as LIGHTING DESIGNER, (with Gavroche doing the actual rigging, oh gosh) because HECK YES, THE STRAY BIRDS GET THE UBERSYMBOLS,
Basically Yes This and I want fic XD
This is perfect, but I thought I was going to have a heart attack when I saw Bossuet as the Lighting Designer. I knew there weren’t enough people (this seems as if it would be a realatively small theatre) for him to *not* be rigging and then thank heaven there was Gavroche. I was cringing just thinking about getting Bossuet up in the grid!
Yes, but Delffin, this is about giving OTHER people advice, and when did that last go well for Derek? If he suggested eggs for breakfast that would be the one day thee salmonella didn’t get cooked out of them.
REMEMBER HOW PARIS, BEFORE HE GOT INTO ALL THAT BEAUTY CONTEST SHIT AND FUCKED OFF WITH HELEN, LIVED ON A MOUNTAIN AND WAS ALL RUSTIC AND SHIT? BACK WHEN HE HAD THE FARM-BOY THING GOING, HE WAS MARRIED TO SOME NYMPH FUCKER OENONE, THEY EVEN HAD A CHILD TOGETHER.
PARIS DIDN’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT THIS WHEN HE WAS OFFERED THE MOST SEXY LADY IN THE WORLD BY APHRODITE, SO HE JUST FUCKED OFF ON A WOMAN-STEALING MISSION, MEGA-DUMPING OENONE.
OENONE IS FUCKING PISSED AT HIM, AND ONE VERSION HAS HER EVEN SEND HER SON TO GO AND GUIDE THE GREEKS TOWARDS TROY TO FUCK SHIT UP. SHE’S ALSO ONE OF THE MANY FUCKERS TO PROPHESY TROY’S DESTRUCTION.
SOME YEARS LATER, THE TROJAN WAR IS GETTING FUCKING BORING - HECTOR, ACHILLES AND BIG AJAX ARE DEAD AND EVERYONE JUST WANTS THIS SHIT TO END. THAT STINKY FUCKER PHILOCTETES, BECAUSE HE HAD THE SPECIAL HERACLES BOW, PRIVILEGED FUCKER, WENT AND FUCKING WOUNDED PARIS.
PARIS HAD THIS SHITTY INJURY THAT WAS GOING ICKY, AND THE ONLY FUCKER WITH THE MAGIC/HERBAL SKILL TO SAVE HIM? HIS FUCKING EX, OENONE. PARIS CRAWLED ALL THE WAY UP HER MOUNTAIN TO BEG HER TO SAVE HIM, BUT SHE WAS ALL “FUCK NO”. REASONABLE.
PARIS DIES MISERABLY, BUT FINALLY OENONE IS A BIT UPSET ABOUT THIS, SO THROWS HERSELF ONTO HIS FUNERAL PYRE. WE LOVE A HAPPY ENDING.