#Liosha

[cielmeowtan]

These two are Liosha (left, friend's oc) and Hakaru (right, my oc), they are based on the bnha universe and lately they've been through a lot, so have them loving the hell out of each other

#bnha #bnha original character #oc #lgbt art #boku no hero academy #boku no hero #boku no hero acedamia oc #artwork #comic art

[shitcow]

Aquí mi nenita bella

Nombre: Mishka Kora Liosha

Edad: 28 años

Altula: 1.78

Signo: acuario (💪)

Algunos datitos

Es de bielorRusia 🇧🇾

Odia el queso (todos los quesos literalmente)

Escapo de su país a temprana edad

Es calladita pero cuando agarra confianza es muy peligrosa 😈

Roba lapiceros

#oc #art

[reeyama-v-yami]

Mine and my bestie's OC Liosha as Crona

Скетч на Гелловін 😋😋

#украрт #український тамблер #укртумбочка #український tumblr #oc artwork #art #didgital art #krita sketch #sketch #artists on tumblr #piss kink #reeyama

[anastasia-avraliova]

Portrait of Liosha

paper, coloured pencils

#artists on tumblr #artist #womenartist #belarusianartist #art #artforsale #contemporaryart #contemporaryportrait #tbilisi #gallery #interiordesign #artcollector #artworks #anastasiaavraliova #artgallery #fineart #artfair #artshow #exhibition #modernart #artiststudio #kunst #acrylicpainting #painting #portrait #graphic #artofportrait #portraitart #portraitofaboy #artwork

[riprou]

hey!!!

i'm melatonin, but if you were following me for long enough, you could probably also know me as roughton howard, or rayslie sunrise, or even aemilis.

my name is liosha, any pronouns are cool. i'm a young inspired artist who draws his favorite characters, fandom ones or original. here are some examples of my latest work:

i also do commissions, you can always text me in dm or on insta to get more info!

[giovannisetaro]

Cari concittadini, questo Natale sarà uno dei più tristi di sempre, la nostra comunità è stata colpita da un grande dolore difronte al quale non possiamo che restare inermi. Intanto, ho incontrato la nostra concittadina Yuliia Zyma, che mi ha sottoposto delle letterine scritte a Babbo Natale da parte di alcuni bambini Ucraini ed immediatamente quel dolore si esteso fino ai confini della nostra Europa, questa volta per mano dell’illogicità umana. "Ciao San Nicola! Mi chiamo Varvara. Mi sono ammalata, ho la febbre e tosse. A casa non c'è corrente. Ho deciso di scriverti una lettera. Io vivo in Ucraina. Sfortunatamente c'è la guerra. Non capisco ancora molte cose, e talvolta ho molta paura, soprattutto quando c'è l'allarme oppure quando tolgono la corrente. Purtroppo mamma non c'è più quindi sono l'aiutante di papà. So cucinare, faccio le pulizie, lavo i piatti. Mi prendo cura del mio gattino, si chiama Liosha. San Nicola, desidero un sacco un tablet o un computer. Mi serve per studiare e comunicare con i miei amici. Nonostante sia già grande, credo comunque nei miracoli. Ti ringrazio, San Nicola.” Varvara, 11 anni Non esisterà alcuna magia per questo Natale! Forse, però, un piccolo sorriso a qualcuno potremo donarlo. Con Yuliia e la Protezione Civile, abbiamo deciso di raccogliere i seguenti prodotti da inviare in Ucraina: 🍬 CARAMELLE, CIOCCOLATE, KINDER, BISCOTTI, NESQUIK, CIOCCOLATA CALDA E LATTE IN POLVERE. 👗 BIANCHERIA INVERNALE IN PILE E COTONE CALDO, SCARPE, CAPPELINI, GUANTI, CALZETTONI E SCARPE INVERNALI. 🎰 GIOCATTOLI DI VARIO GENERE E MATERIALE DIDATTICO. ⚠️ Il centro raccolta sarà effettuato presso la sede C.O.M. della Protezione Civile in Contrada San Luca. ℹ️ La raccolta verrà effettuata da oggi, lunedì 12.12.2022 al giorno 18.12.2022. PER INFORMAZIONI: 3485451293-3895234317 Grazie a tutti. ❤️ https://www.instagram.com/p/CmD8oGKr7c1/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[bzalma]

UM & UIM Coverage Are a Single Coverage

UM & UIM Coverage Are a Single Coverage

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished See the full video at https://rumble.com/v1zf4kb-um-and-uim-coverage-are-a-single-coverage.html and at https://youtu.be/qoGU9mW2UB0 GEICO Advantage Insurance Company and GEICO Choice Insurance Company (collectively “GEICO”) appealed a decision of the Circuit Court of the City of Richmond granting summary judgment to Liosha Miles (“Miles”) on the issue of whether each…

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[theofaron]

@sharlatan-ka‘s Liohsa and Aiden as Trixie and Katya because it just works ok

im only capable of drawing memes now

#Liosha #the witcher oc #Aiden Katinas #mori drew a thing

[aljordandraws]

Did a bunch of colour palette sketches of different OCs and a canon character. The first one with ghost town has @geralt0ftrivia 's oc Njal, and the third palette has @sharlatan-ka 's oc Liosha!!! I'm really proud of all these sketches.

#art #digital art #aljordandraws #artwork #oc art #witcher 3 #witcher art #witcher. #witcher oc #oc #sketches #digital sketch #colour palette prompt #anemone #liosha #njal #ruby #iorveth #Elaine'aeynewedd

[houndsoflove-1985]

been drawin starbrite

(liosha’s is an utena screencap redraw)

#starbrite #isabel #liosha #mallie #jestie

[elizabethospeaks]

Some Very Poorly drawn OCs!

Luchezara & Liosha: @sharlatan-ka

Lily: @dravenxivuk

Lillie: @briarfox13

Narcyz: My bastard son

Kherus: @moosethren

Siva: @kaedwenistout

Milosh: @countbars-mainblog

Aditi: @athrasil

#Art Memes #My Art #Please enjoy my garbage #idk why I gave Liosha the gold tooth but they're owning it #Lillie terrified by the monsters about to make out and Aditi is just Done #Milosh is just being a bear witcher I guess #There are so many layers of crack lore in the Lyriva square I'm not gonna try JBGJG

[teredo-navalis]

Ho rotto credo tre cuori durante la mia vita, ma l'unico di cui mi importa è quello di Liosha bambino-cucchiaio di cui mi son segnata la mail senza però mai mandargliene una dopo essere partita :(

[holysweetsnightmare]

La Enpa recibe el Premio de la Calidad Camagüey- El Delegado Territorial del Ministerio de Ciencia, Tecnología y Medio Ambiente (CITMA), Liosha Arias Artiles, entregó el Premio de la Calidad a la Empresa de Proyectos e Ingeniería UEB EMPA Camagüey (Enpa) con la presencia de Lídice Reyes Ojeda, Directora de la Oficina Territorial de Normalización (OTN), por haber cumplido satisfactoriamente con los criterios a medir, y mantener resultados relevantes en la gestión empresarial y medioambiental, un incremento sostenido de los niveles de producción y buenos resultados en sus indicadores económicos, lo cual ha permitido dar cumplimiento a sus objetivos estratégicos y otras acciones de mejora en busca de la excelencia en su gestión, así como el cumplimiento de la legislación vigente referidos a la Calidad, Medioambiente y seguridad y salud en el trabajo. El Premio Calidad de la provincia de Camagüey ha sido instituido como reconocimiento a las organizaciones que se distingan en la obtención de resultados relevantes en la aplicación de la gestión total de la calidad y la eficiencia económica, sobre la base del cumplimiento de un conjunto de requisitos previamente establecidos, con vistas a lograr una alta competitividad y confiabilidad de sus productos y servicios. De ahí que el Premio tiene como objetivos: • Reconocer a las organizaciones que se distingan por el éxito alcanzado en su gestión empresarial y de la calidad. • Promover el empleo de la experiencia cubana en la utilización del enfoque y las prácticas de gestión total de la calidad, como una vía para lograr eficiencia y competitividad. • Fomentar el empleo de los criterios del Premio como una guía para avanzar hacia la excelencia. • Propiciar la estabilidad y madurez empresarial necesarias para alcanzar un permanente nivel de confianza en su gestión. Las empresas presentadas fueron: 1. Empresa de Proyectos e Ingeniería UEB EMPA Camagüey. 2. Empresa General Contratista de Obras Camagüey DOVEL #Camagüey #Cuba https://www.instagram.com/p/CH8JWltBLbc/?igshid=eyxls0p8uac7

#camagüey #cuba

[trikeonabike-blog]

Guile

Prologue

The night Castle Guile fell, so did its people. Fire rained down from Frari ships too fast to escape. The bombing left nothing of the capital. In one night, the five year war was put to an end though it did nothing to quell the anger of those that had lost so much in a senseless war. The Land of the North was ravaged by troops too blinded by rage and drunk on adrenaline to differentiate between solider and civilian.

Those living on foreign soil were no safer than those that had been caught in the bombing. Fear and anger combined to create a deadly atmosphere that poisoned minds. No one was safe. Blood darkened the streets as a people were wiped from the plane of existence. I can still remember the screams. Those don't go away no matter how many years pass.

My eyes adjust slowly- my brain even slower. I can't remember where I am. The only thing I can make out is a dimly lit room and a steady lurching. An airship? Why can't I remember? My head hurts. I place my hand above my right eye. A clanking sound reverberates throughout the room. In the next few seconds, I have concluded two things. Wherever I am, I am not here by choice as evident by the chain around my wrist. The thought is terrifying, but it is the second conclusion that truly stops my heart- my eye patch is missing.

Sweat drops form on my forehead and my hands start to shake. I have to find it. My heart feels as if it's trying to burst from my chest. I thrust my hands into the darkness hoping to feel its rough cloth. With every shake of the chain, my heart beats louder. I need to find it.

"So it seems you're finally awake."

I freeze. It is the only thing I can do. How did I not hear the door open? The light hits my back casting the woman's shadow before me. I shake my head allowing my hair to create a green veil between me and captor. Grateful for the light, I sweep my eyes across the floor until I spot the familiar black of my eye patch just a small distance from my right hand.

The silence in the small room is deafening. It's a trap; I know it. She's waiting to see what I do. Like a fool, I slowly reach toward the patch. Her heels resonate throughout the room. With each step, my heart stops, but I continue to reach forward. I've never seen my hand tremble so much.

CLANK. CLANK. CLANK. Just a little further. Like a child that fears a terrible storm, I squeeze my eyes shut as if it will suddenly make this person disappear. The sound stops. I can only hear my breath as it slowly escapes my lips in a sputtered exhale. I open my eyes slowly. The patch is still in front of me- a fingers length away. I reach forward gathering all my courage. Before I can lay a finger upon it, a small creature launches toward my trembling hand.

I reel my hand back before its needle like teeth can pierce my skin. It's a kitchi- a small rodent creature from the southern tip of Frari. In my twenty-four years of life, I have only seen two. Its eyes glare at me with such ferocity, I dare not try to reach for my eye patch again. In the dim lighting, its white coat seems to shine. I am awe struck. Once more, it bares its teeth before clutching the eye patch in its tiny paws and scampering past me.

"There's no need for this, dear," I turn to face the voice behind me. "I already know your little secret."

She is perched elegantly upon a box of what seems to be provisions. My eye patch dangles freely in her right hand; her left gently strokes the kitchi that sits upon her shoulder. It is only by the light streaming from the hallway that I finally gaze upon my captor. It feels as if I am in the presence of royalty.

The light from the hallway casts a shadow over her face. Her lavender hair creates a sharp contrast against the dim lighting and her ebony skin. Her eyes seem to gleam as she stares at me coldly. The left is the color of fresh grass while the right is the color of the golden sands of Liosha. They pierce through me as if they know all my secrets and given the smirk on her face, I bet they do.

She is dressed in a cream blouse with a navy blue vest and matching breeches. Her boots stop just below her knee and are plated in steel. Had it not been for my current surrounding, I would have assumed her to be military. A pirate- she must be.

The realization does nothing to ease my troubled mind. I know what she's after.

"How did you find out about me?" I ask. I no longer have to hide my face. My green hair parts as I stare straight into the darkness toward my captor. My question seems to surprise her, but only for a moment. Her smile widens as she slowly walks toward me. She is no doubt shorter than I, but her presence is intimidating.

I keep my face void of emotion, but I can feel my body tremble. My courage has left and I can only pray she does not know it. She stops but a foot away from where I sit and crouches down. Our eyes are now on the same level. I can feel them upon me- probing for any sign of weakness. Something soft and warm caresses my cheek and I cannot help but flinch. My reaction is met with a smile as she cups my chin in her hand. Her nails gently brush against my throat. With her free hand, she moves the remaining strands of hair aside, tucking it neatly behind my ear.

"You know, they really are quiet beautiful. Even with your pitiful attempts at hiding it, there is no mistaking the blood red eyes of a Guile."

"That wasn't an answer." My words are bold, but inside, my blood is frozen.

She smiles as if she's somehow pleased by my reaction. Her palm slowly moves from my chin towards my throat and finally rests on the nape of my neck. Her nails graze my skin as if they were playing an instrument. This is a test. I keep my eyes locked onto her's unwavering. Her grip tightens as she moves her face forward. My breathing slows as I try to keep the appearance of calm. Her lips linger near my ear. This level of intimacy is frightening and I close my eyes yet again. In the darkness, I can only make out the heat of her breath against my ear and the scent of the island that still remains in her hair.

"You are either brave or stupid," she whispers. Her words tickle and my body reacts with a shiver.  A chuckle escapes from her lips. She moves back to her crouching position, a smile on her face, "Either way, you've earned your answer. Though whether or not you'll like what you hear is an entirely different matter."

I let the gravity of her words sink in. Betrayed. It is the first word that pops into my head. It is a word I have tried to push away since I first heard the jangling of my chains. "Who was it?"

"I didn't ask her name-"

"WHO WAS IT?!"

I can hear my anger echo in the tiny dark room. My captor never loses composure as if she expected my outburst. It takes but a second to realize she did. She laid the bait and I fell for it. The room grows silent with every passing second. My fists clench with anticipation.

"It was the serving girl at the Bloated Corpse. I believe someone said her name was-"

"Tala." My voice comes out as nothing more than a whisper. My mind is flooded with memories of her. Her raven hair blowing in the wind. The scent of papau ale that would linger on her skin after a hard day's work. The way her brow would furrow when she was concentrating on a particularly difficult order. The sound of her laugh. How it reminded me of the island birds during mating season and how she hated when I mentioned that.

Very quickly my mind switches from the feel of her rough hands to the sight of them wrapped around various sailors' necks. Her laughter turns into guttural screams as she throws yet another bottle at me. The sting of my palms. The bruise on her cheek. Eyes that once looked at me as if I was her anchor filled with tears and something else. Fear? Disgust? Both?

"You don't seem too surprised."

I can barely pay attention to the words I'm hearing. My mind can only see Tala. The way her face looked when our eyes met last night. Her eyes filling with water. How the water glistened in her teal eye, reminding me of the waterfall we would hide behind on her days off. How a tear escaped the void of her imperial purple eye to run silently down her face like it had done so many nights before.

"No," I say, my voice shaking. "I'm not surprised."

The image of her lips mouthing "I'm sorry" dissipates from my mind as the room lurches unsteadily shaking me out of my head.

"What are those imbeciles doing?" my captor whispers. I had forgotten she was so close. She turns her head toward the direction of the hallways. Even in the dim lighting, I can see she is irritated.

"Are you going to kill me?" I ask hoping to take advantage of her irritation.

Her head turns slowly and a smile creeps across her face. This worries me. I search her face for some other indication of her thoughts. I am met with cold eyes that give nothing away. There is only the smile.

"Would I waste my time bringing you aboard my ship if I meant to kill you?"

That point had never crossed me. Her eyes continue to stare as search my brain for an answer. Perhaps she plans to enter me in the slave trade. I can only assume someone would pay well for a slave from a near extinct people, "Are you slavers?" She lets out a sigh and her eyelids lower as if she is somehow disappointed in my response. She places her hands on her knees as she raises from the crouching position. Her body becomes a large shadow as she turns her back and walks back to the provisions box.

"You lack imagination," she says. I can hear faint repetitive sounds as if she is tapping her fingernails against the box, "I'm going to tell you a story. You can tune it out if you want, but our journey is long and you should accept any entertainment while you can. One can get a little stir crazy in this room."

She turns around and begins to pace. Each step gives a metallic sound that echoes in the room. The kitchi has curled itself into a ball atop the provisions box. I can't tell if it has fallen asleep or not. I imagine it would be hard to sleep through the noise.

"Once upon a time," she stops placing a finger to her mouth. "No, let's not be silly."

She turns back toward me and the smile appears on her face once more, "How about, a long, long time ago, in a land far north?"

I gasp before I can stop myself. The smile on her face widens, "Ah. So you've heard this one before?"

"Good," she says turning away from me, "There was a story mother's told their children before bedtime. It was a sad story, but all children were told this story in this land. And even though it was just a story, their mother's told it as if it was true. The story was about a young boy and a goddess. The young boy was blind. As so many deemed imperfect by society, we was ostracized and left completely alone. The boy cried every night to an empty and cold world. And every night he was met with silence. No comforting words from a mother. No loving hands from a lover.

"One night, the boy's cry were met by a voice. It was gentle and kind. It said that it had been watching the boy. It wanted to help the boy. The voice said it would help the boy see. When the boy awoke, he saw light for the first time. The boy was ecstatic.

"That was until he noticed how alone he was. What was the use of eyes that worked if he had no one to look upon? The boy was upset with the voice. 'Why did you do this?!' he screamed at the sky to no answer.

"The boy began to cry. He cried until all light left the sky. 'I did not want you to be alone' a voice called out. A light unlike any came from the sky. In it was a beautiful goddess. She reached out to the boy. 'You are not alone. Come to me.' she told the boy. The boy walked into her embrace. It was warm like the sun. 'I will make a home for you,' she told the boy. And she did. She made the boy a castle grander than any this world had seen.

"But it was empty. This was not what the boy wanted. The boy cried and cried as he had done so many times before. Again the goddess came. 'What is wrong my child?' she asked. 'I am alone again,' the boy replied. 'Why won't you stay with me?' The goddess was unsettled. She could not stay with the boy, but she did not wish to see him cry anymore.

"The goddess came up with an idea. She filled the castle with riches beyond imagine and promised the boy she would visit every night. The boy was happy and soon years had passed. The boy had grown into a young man. Travelers had come to settle near the castle and the boy was no longer alone. A town soon grew from the castle and with it more people arrived. The boy was no longer alone. The goddess felt she had finally made the boy happy.

"One night, the young man called out to the goddess and she did not appear. This happened the following night and the night after. Eventually, the young man gave up on calling the goddess. The young man married and his wife became pregnant. The young man was thrilled beyond belief.

"But this would not be a sad story without tragedy. The man's wife became ill and fell into early labor. Both she and the child were lost. Once again, the man was left alone. He stayed in the room his wife had died and cried for three nights. On the fourth night, the goddess came to him.

"She held him in his arms and he was warm again. She held him until the sun began to rise. As she placed on the floor, the man called out to her. 'Why are you leaving me?' The goddess had no time to answer his question. She turned from him, ready to make her descent into the sky.

"It was then the man struck. He held the goddess in his arms. 'You told me you wouldn't leave me?!' he screamed. 'Why does everyone leave me?!' The goddess pushed away from the man. He felt her leave his arms. With the dagger he kept on his hip, he stabbed the goddess in the heart. 'You said you wouldn't leave me" he said.

"Everyone knows you cannot kill a goddess, but you can harm them. From the wound, her blood sprayed upon the eyes she had granted him staining them red-"

"I know the rest," I interrupt hoping to end this story soon. "The goddess gets angry and curses the man and his kingdom. Their eyes and that of their descendants will forever be stained red to show the world the betrayal of their foolish king."

"So you know your fairy tales-"

"Every child of Guile knows that story," I interrupt again. "As you said, it's a bedtime story mothers tell their children."

"You seem so adamant about interrupting me," she says turning once again to face me. "Is there some reason you don't want me to finish?"

I feel as if I fell for her bait once again. I should have kept quiet. She's smirking. The way the light casts on her face, it makes her smile more sinister. Or perhaps it is revealing the true nature of that smile. Something about that smirk angers me, but I know I shouldn't get angry. That's probably what she wants.

"No," I reply. "I was just finishing the story for you. It's an old cautionary tale to prevent children from clinging so heavily to those around them. There's not much else to it."

"We both know that's not entirely true."

"You can't possibly mean-"

"While the goddess was deeply hurt by the man's actions," she continues ignoring me. "she still cared very dearly for the man. The eyes weren't the only thing she left the man."

She stopped pacing. The room suddenly seemed smaller without the sound of her boots against the metal floor. Neither of us speak and a stifling silence fills the room. I can hear her rummaging around, but the lack of light prevents me from knowing what she exactly she's doing. I can only hear a faint clinking sound.

CLANG! The sound startles me and I tense up. To the left of me lay a set of keys. I stare at them dumbfounded before reaching for them. I don't understand.

"For the locks," she says. I wonder if I said that last bit out loud before taking them in my hand.

They are cold to the touch and fit perfectly in my palm. I can't help but stare at it. Why is she letting me go? Does she think I'll help her willingly?

"Whether or not you use the keys is no business of mine," she says reaching for the sleeping kitchi and placing it on her shoulder. I wonder if it has woken up or if it has such natural balance it doesn't need to be awake to be perched there. "I only figured you might want to see more than the darkness of this room."

She begins to walk toward the door and I am left staring into my palm. I can see her shadow moving further and further away from me. I grip the keys in my hand.

"I won't help you find it," I say stopping her in her tracks. The light from the hallway is bright and her whole body is covered in shadow. Even still, I know she is smiling.

"My dear, you don't have a choice."

I can hear her footsteps as she walks down the hall. Eventually, I hear nothing, but the light buzzing of machinery. I am left alone with my thoughts and the keys to my freedom or at the very least, the key to my locks.

The chains fall to the floor causing echoes that most likely could be heard even outside this room. My wrist is sore. There is no doubt a mark from the chain. I move my hand to help with circulation as I plan my next step. A familiar scent wafts into the room.

Without thinking, my legs move. Out the room and down the hall. Each step is almost automatic as I follow the scent. It stings when I breathe in, but I cannot make myself stop. I find myself at the bottom of a set of metal stairs. I climb. With each step a metallic sound reverberates through the stairwell. CLANK. Each step takes me further away from the island. CLANK. Further away from Tala. CLANK. Further away from suspicious stares. CLANK. Further away from a past I never wanted. And closer to something else.

I am almost running as I make my way up the last bit of steps. I am hungry for it. Hungry for that thing I've been searching so long for. That something that couldn't be found in the bed of strangers. The light is nearly blinding me as I get closer to the top, but I can't stop. My breathing is heavy, but I am so close.

I break through the light and find myself staring at a far off wasteland. I cannot even focus on the people littering the deck. My eyes can only take in the deserted land. What isn't covered in ice is ripe with untamed frozen forest. In the center of it lay ruins slowly being buried by nature. It's there. I can smell it in the air. Home.

#completed #i guess #writeblr #short story #trike writes

[a2sparis]

LES P’TITS MOLIÈRES

THÉÂTRE : les Prix des P’tits Molières 2019

Voici les lauréats des septièmes Prix des P’tits Molières, décernés par une association regroupant des théâtres français de moins de 150 places :

Meilleurs spectacles «tout public» : «Feu le père de Monsieur», «Les Justes», «Fool for Love». Meilleurs comédiens dans un premier rôle : Olivier Raynal, Sylvain Zarli, Léon Vitale.
 Meilleurs comédiens dans un second rôle : Jérémy Stora, Pierre Marazin.
 Meilleures comédiennes dans un premier rôle : Julie Zeno, Anne Barthel, Florence Merle.   Meilleures comédiennes dans un second rôle : Caroline Fontant, Séverine Wolff. Meilleur spectacle musical : «Sax». 
Meilleur spectacle de comédie : «Monsieur chasse».
Meilleures mises en scène : Florence Merle, Cliff Paillé, Odile Huleux.
 Meilleures scénographies : Aurélie Camus, Thomas Merland, Bruno Ladet, Elisa Ghertman, «Le 32 - cabinet de curiosités».
 Meilleurs auteurs vivants : Laurent Gaudé, Cliff Paillé.
Meilleurs spectacles «seul en scène» : «Bérénice 34-44», «Onysos le Furieux».
 Meilleur spectacle d’humour : «Sphères ennemies».
Meilleurs spectacles jeune public : «Le tour du monde en 80 jours», «Le cerf sans bois». Coups de coeur : «Un roi sans divertissement», «Piezz’ e core», «Le 32 - cabinet de curiosités», «Onysos le Furieux». ________

Voici une rapide présentation des spectacles lauréats, à un titre ou à un autre, des Prix des Ptits Molières 2019 :

«Sax» Mise en scène : Gil Galliot. Musiciens : Guy Rebreyend, Michel Oberli, Frédéric Saumagne et Samuel Maingaud. Durée : 1h10. Quatre saxophonistes, aux styles très différents, font connaissance à l’occasion d’une audition et, l’espace d’une journée, vont partager leurs mondes musicaux, leurs rêves, leurs désirs, leurs fantasmes, leurs émotions... Ensemble, ils vont jouer du funk, du Bach, du jazz, de la musique tzigane, brésilienne, africaine, arménienne, etc.

Le tour du monde en 80 jours Auteur : Jules Verne. Adaptation : Béatrice Bonnaudeau. Metteur en scène : Loïc Fieffé. Jeu : Pierre Serra, Béatrice Bonnaudeau, Raphaël Beauville, Alexandra Branel et Emilien Audibert. Scénographie : Morgane Barbry. Durée : 1h. Ce spectacle pour enfants raconte la célèbre aventure de Phileas Fogg, de son fidèle Passepartout et de l’inspecteur Fix à leurs trousses.

Journal d’un fou Texte : Nicolaï Gogol. Metteuse en scène : Stéphanie Slimani. Jeu : Sylvain Zarli. Durée : 1h. Adapté d’une nouvelle de Gogol écrite en 1834, ce spectacle raconte la vie d’un fonctionnaire russe qui, à cause d’un chien (représenté sur scène par une marionnette), devient fou.

Les Sphères Ennemies Auteur : Jean-Baptiste Thomas-Sertillanges, avec la collaboration d’Olivier Teillac. Comédiens : Olivier  Teillac et Jean-Baptiste Thomas-Sertillanges. Metteur en scène : Alexis Berecz. Durée : 1h30. Cette comédie, qui s’affirme « romantico-schizophrénique», se présente comme une plongée dans le cerveau amoureux de Jonathan, avec, d’un côté, son hémisphère droit, incarné par le personnage de Nathan Lafleur, idéaliste et romantique, et, de l’autre, son hémisphère gauche, un certain Jo Latrick, plutôt primaire, impulsif et cynique.

Piezz’e core Texte : Claudia Palleschi et Léa Dubreucq. Mise en scène : Dimitri Dubreucq. Direction musicale : Claudia Palleschi et Pascal Claro. Chorégraphies : Léa Dubreucq et Claudia Palleschi. Jeu : Claudia Palleschi, Léa Dubreucq, Pascal Claro, Pierre Marazin et Anaël Alexandre. Durée : 1h05. L’action de cette pièce de théâtre musical se déroule à Naples en 1947. Dans cette ville dévastée par la seconde guerre mondiale, deux soeurs orphelines essaient de survivre.

Le 32 - cabinet des curiosités Texte : Philippe d'Avilla, La Big Bertha et Ariane Carmin. Interprétation : La Big Bertha, Philippe d'Avilla, Ariane Carmin et Agnès Chamak. Durée : 1h15. Ce spectacle, qui s’affirme «à la croisée des genres sexuels», met en scène trois créatures de la nuit, dont un travesti qui ne passe pas du tout inaperçu : «La Big Bertha».

Bérénice 34-44 Auteure : Isabelle Stibbe. Mise en scène : Pierre-Olivier Scotto. Jeu : Violette Erhart. Durée : 1h15. Dans les années 1940, la comédienne Bérénice Kapelouchnik est expulsée de la Comédie française parce que juive. La pièce évoque sa vie sous l’Occupation allemande.

Le cerf sans bois Texte et mise en scène : Marine Torre. Jeu : Barbara Franch en alternance avec Nolwenn Le Gal et Marine Torre. Musiques : Alexis Liosha et Leor Lor. Durée : 45 minutes. Dans ce conte pour enfants, un jeune cerf, qui n'a pas encore de bois, est la risée de son frère et de son père. Un jour, il tombe dans un ravin et vivra toutes sortes d’aventures. Combinant théâtre et théâtre d'ombres, deux comédiennes interprètent tous les rôles : animaux et fées de la forêt.

Comme des adultes Texte : Victor Rossi. Acteurs : Mathilde Cribier, Victor Rossi et Léon Vitale. Cette comédie raconte la rencontre amoureuse de deux trentenaires très différents, socialement et culturellement, et quelque peu immatures, Muriel et Jeff. Cette fois, ils vont essayer de se comporter en adultes et, selon leur copain Jacques : "C'est pas forcément gagné".

Feu le père de Monsieur Texte : Georges Feydeau. Metteuse en scène : Odile Huleux. Jeu : Agnès Chamak, Jérémy Manesse, Kim Koolenn et Philippe d’Avilla. Dans ce classique du théâtre de boulevard très «revisité», c’est l’épouse, et non plus le mari, qui, un soir, rentre éméchée au domicile conjugal et qui va subir le courroux de son époux.

Fool for Love Texte : Sam Shepard. Mise en scène : Dannie Lucarr. Acteurs :  Olivier Raynal, Julie Zeno, Lee Michelsen et Dimitri Michelsen. Dans un motel du désert de Mojave, en Californie, quatre paumés se rencontrent, Eddie, May, son amour de jeunesse, le compagnon de May et une petite amie d’Eddy. La pièce est interprétée en anglais, avec des sur-titres en français.

Onysos le furieux Auteur : Laurent Gaudé. Jeu : Giovanni Vitello. Metteur en scène : Bruno Ladet . Durée : 1h10. Dans le métro de New-York, Onysos, «mi-dieu mi-homme», raconte sa vie depuis l’Antiquité. Le metteur en scène explique qu’Onysos est un «porte la parole de ceux qui sont humiliés». La pièce permet de «mettre en abîme ce qu’est le théâtre, de montrer les artifices, de jouer sur l’illusion», ajoute-t-il.

Madame Van Gogh Texte et mise en scène : Cliff Paillé. Interprétation : Lyne Lebreton et Romain Arnaud-Kneisky . Durée : 1h10. Peu après la mort de Vincent Van Gogh et de son frère Théo, Johanna, la veuve de ce dernier, héritière des tableaux de Vincent et de la volumineuse correspondance entre les deux frères,  dialogue avec Émile Bernard, peintre et ami de Vincent.

Monsieur chasse Texte : Georges Feydeau. Adaptation, mise en scène et scénographie : Olivier Schmidt. Piano et arrangements musicaux  : Justine Verdier. Chorégraphie : Séverine Wolff. Jeu : Olivier Schmidt, Julien Hammer, Alexandra Magin, Séverine Wolff, Kevin Maille, Mickaël Alabergère et Patrick Tulasne. Ce vaudeville met en scène un mari volage, une épouse qui veut se venger, mais aussi une domestique plus ou moins dérangée, un provincial benêt, un filleul encombrant ou encore une comtesse frivole.

Le Tartuffe Texte : Molière. Metteuse en scène : Florence Merle. Scénographie : Jean Tartaroli. Comédiens : Florence Merle, Olivier Lamoille, Claude Lesko et Martin Navizet-Sapet. Durée : 1h40. La pièce de Molière est transposée à notre époque, où «le développement personnel est perçu comme une nouvelle religion», nous a-t-on dit.

Dans la jungle des villes Texte : Bertolt Brecht. Mise en scène : Jérémie Stora. Acteurs : Thomas Besset, Caroline Fontant, Guillaume Kovacs et Jérémie Stora. Durée : 1h20. À Chicago, en 1912, deux hommes, Shlink et Garga, «fauves urbains», s’opposent violemment. L’un a réussi sa vie au plan matériel, l’autre est resté un marginal.

Les Justes Auteur : Albert Camus. Metteuse en scène : Aurélie Camus. Jeu : Fany Burgard, Victor Bratovic, Luc Févry, Sébastien Hugues Gillie, Tiffany Léonard, Lucas Jason Perrot et Adrien Pont. Dans la Russie tsariste, un groupe révolutionnaire préparant un attentat finit par se poser la question : jusqu'où peut-on aller, au plan moral, dans un combat politique ?

Un roi sans divertissement Texte : d’après un roman de Jean Giono. Mise en scène : Daniel Geiger. Jeu : André Sanfratello. Durée : 1h. Un collectionneur d’histoires nous raconte un fait divers : d’étranges disparitions pendant les hivers dans un village de montagne. L’acteur interprète le rôle de ce collectionneur-conteur, mais aussi tous les autres protagonistes du fait divers.

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The book follows the lives of Hilary, the narrator, and three of his friends whom he met at Cambridge. One soon dies - another (Adrian) writes a hugely successful novel and marries Doria. Jaffery is a larger than life character who falls in love with Doria at first sight. Also in the story are Liosha, a fiery Albanian widow rescued from a life of servitude partly by Jaffery’s intervention, and Barbara, the steadfast wife of Hilary. Their lives change and the story develops as Adrian struggles to write his second novel. (Summary by Simon Evers) via Libricox

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