#Kalokagathia

[ciurmastortateatro]

Sorprendenti ancora una volta, ancora di più. Una metamorfosi scenica, una crescita incredibile e un debutto teatrale pazzesco per i giovani attori "Incontinenti", impegnati ieri nella versione integrale di "Gioventù senza dio" di Ödon Von Horváth: "Si dovrebbe inventare un'arma con la quale si possa privare qualsiasi arma del suo effetto, cioè il contrario di un'arma. Se solo fossi un inventore! " Il Teatro una volta fermava le guerre. @liceoartisticobrunelleschi @comunemontemurlo #teatro #theatre #ciurmastorta #nowar #nowarinukraine #gioventùsenzadio #ilteatrononsiferma #ilteatrofermavaleguerre #foto #ph #scuola #paideia #kalokagathia #liceoartistico #moda #grafica #youth #propaganda #costruttivismo #nazismo (presso Sala Banti) https://www.instagram.com/p/CmZ0NQcsC4m/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[blumele]

“this is how you age when you’re unproblematic”

“not being problematic gives you clear skin”

surely nothing bad could ever happen by equating beauty with inherent virtue. btw are you familiar with the greek term kalòs kai agathòs

[fryktheciller]

Cooler

charlie dalton x gn!reader

summary: a summer evening at dalton's place

notes: hi!! this is the first ff i actually finished writing and im dying inside at the thought of posting it. english isnt my first language and im posting this at 2 am, after a poor revision, idk what to say expect spelling mistakes and sentences that dont make sense and raskolnikov-like blurb cause im him hes me and ok i really need to close this paragraph.

Days fly by with Dalton. His parents, two goddamn toffs, sure had great taste, both in furniture and especially in friends. God bless that day his parents decided to become best friends with yours.

Can't say the same about their son, Charlie, a professional dickhead, from the day you knew each other until the day he'd close his eyes and become cold. Sure, he's hot and pretty and oh so charming; sometimes he can also be kind and gentle, but he's got something that’s scary magnetic, and addictive, or at least you think so. That something’s everywhere: in the way he moves his hands while he's explaining the last shitplan he’s come up with while smoking on the balcony; the way he rolls up his shirt, thinking it will help doing a math test, knowing damn well he's going to pass by a stroke of pure luck; or the way he plays the most outrageous melody on his sax, still making it somehow so good and passionate. Also (did I mention it?) he's quite literally the definition of gorgeous—the definition of kalokagathia, except it’s all looks and no agathia. The whole thing’s like: I could love him. And you, oh so desperately!, do. 

The sun’s setting, it’s humid, and the air’s filled with the scent of flowers and the smoke of Charlie’s cigarette. 

–Want one?- He hands you his torn-out red Marlboro packet and his lighter.

You take one and light it up, sitting on the balcony’s hot tiles. 

–Got no dates this summer?

He shrugs, smiling and blowing smoke into your face.

–Got asked out a couple of times before school was over. It's that I'm not interested, don't really know why.

You drag from your cigarette and blow the smoke out, then lightly tap it to get rid of excess ash. 

–Milord, if you may forgive the vulgar language I’m about to use, us peasants call it being in love, or having an interest in someone. Again, sorry for using such vulgar and disgraceful language.

He laughs, and you laugh along with him.

He puts out the cigarette on the tiles, and shrugs again. 

–I don't know.

–It’s not that you don't know; you'd like not to know. Falling in love with someone must be such a sin in the Charlie Dalton religion.

He laughs mechanically, somehow. He hesitates, smiles, and, once again, shrugs. 

–Generally I try to avoid these statements, but now I can't help but embrace them. I've given up.

You laugh, and he follows you—heartily, even. 

–But you?

–Me?

He gestures vaguely with his hand, and you find yourself staring at it with lust, almost. 

–Laid those pretty eyes on someone?

You shrug.

–Nothing much.

–What does that even mean? It's either yes or no. You said it. 

–Didn’t say it. I implied it

–Smartass.

–You’re just jealous of my linguistic capacities.

–Sure I am. Now is it some new incestuos-alien-being who doesn’t even know what a woman is, or is it someone worthy of your admiration?

 –He’s…definitely worth my attention. I think. But I have no hopes. I count on nothing. The thing is: do you really have such low consideration for my romantic interests?

You raise an eyebrow at him, almost mischievously. 

–Not at all. I remember all of those creatures you swore to your mother you loved. And, oh god!, you might expect to find someone pretty on a list that's basically a decade long, but no! Each and one of them is outrageous-looking and with absolutely no social skills. Sometimes, I’ll be honest, I really wondered if you were joking, and for some time I even believed that. But what a realization it was when I understood you found those things pretty.

You both laugh again, and you visualize and remember all those “people” you liked and that you now look at with disgust and apathy.

You’re folded over your stomach, tears of laughter streaming down your face, your tummy hurts, and you can't breathe; he's no different, lying down on the floor, arms wrapped around his stomach, wet lines at the corners of his face, and misty eyes; almost like he was thinking about the same thing as you.

As soon as you thought it was over, anything like a weird look was enough to get you both to start laughing.

–Good god,– you whisper, wiping off the tears with your fingers.

–I think I have never laughed so much at something I said. 

A smile is enough as a response; anything else would kill you.

–By the way, he’s really pretty.

He raises an eyebrow, almost trying to contradict you. 

You smile at him, as if trying to get him started on a debate.

–Description?– he asks, understanding your intentions.

–No, for god’s sake. 

–Not even a hint? A tiny little hint?

–Nothing, absolutely nothing. 

How would you describe this person anyway? “A brunette and dark-eyed boy who plays the saxophone and is a dickhead for a living”? It’s ridiculously explicit. 

–How ‘bout you? It's not that I care, but, you know...

He laughs in response.

–No, you’d tell them.

–Why would I do that? I most likely have no clue who that is.

He shakes his head. 

–Do I know them, at least?

He shrugs and hesitates.

 –Pretty much, yes.

Your head hurts; your stomach is practically in your throat; and you spat your heart long ago. You hope to God that he doesn't come up with a “it’s you” thing because you would faint on the spot. 

–Oh, but it’s your turn now,– he says, nudging you with his elbow.

–Do you know him? ...uhh yes, I suppose so. 

–Great.

–Yeah.

Silence falls between you. You tilt your head and look at the sky, intense, dark, and somehow transparent and clear, like it is only in summer; the air is now fresher, and a soft breeze rises, contrasting with the boiling heat of the tiles. Everything’s humid, full of the scent of flowers, from both florid and almost empty plants, frogs croaking, and fireflies, opposing the equally intense beaming, but perhaps less faint, of the stars. 

Your head still hurts; you can see but you can't really see; you still have the laughter from before in your tummy, and thinking about it still makes you chuckle. 

He seems to ignore you. He lit up another cigarette. “What’s he thinking about?” you think, looking at the sun-colored and bustling flame from the lighter, then at the less intense and steadier one on the tobacco. 

“Must be so unhealthy for him to smoke like this,” you think, and you find yourself pitying him, "ridiculous," is your comment. It is indeed ridiculous to pity someone who rejects deeply and obstinately the concept of that feeling. 

You want to hold him against your chest or on your shoulder, smell the scent of his skin, and keep him close, even if that means dying from the heat. You stare at his profile—that huge yet so perfect nose; that big hand, well-kept like only a musician can do; then the cigarette, already half-burnt; and his lips, chapped and dry. You look at them with lust once again, but not lust lust, something more tender and sweeter, rather than sinful, even though the sin part doesn't really bother you. 

“Tell him, c'mon, tell him,” a little voice in your head was screaming. Of course you’re not going to tell him, or maybe yes? What would happen if you did? You'd lose a friendship that's scary long; that’s what would happen. And what would you do without him? Could you make it? Of course not. You don't remember what it feels like not to have him by your side. Plus, he wouldn't forget: who the hell would forget the love confession from their best friend anyway?

“C'mon, tell him, tell him!” You swear you hear that tiny voice screaming at the top of its lungs.

No, you won't tell him; you'll bring your feelings to the grave with you. 

He put out the cigarette, still in silence. 

“C'mon!! Carpe diem, for fuck’s sake!” What does that even mean? Can I kill a man because I thought “carpe diem" ? That doesn't make any fucking sense. And when did you really start to love him? Months ago? Days ago? Years ago? It could have been yesterday; you’d swear you’ve been loving him for years. 

You start to embrace the idea of telling him. “How would I even put up the whole sentence?” You can't do anything but tell him. Let's be honest; it feels like lying to him, and would you want someone else to tell him rather than you?

–Char

He turns at you with a questioning gaze on his face. Your heart's beating so fast that you feel your arteries are going to explode.

–Can’t beat around the bush much longer, you know. That person…

You pale, feeling the blood pump hard in your temples, and you start to wonder if those were really your last words.

–Cool.

He doesn't feel the same way; it's clear. 

–It's even cooler because I really like you too.

You smile and start to chuckle; it feels like fresh air after holding your breath for too long. He responds with a soft laugh, heartily, then wraps an arm around your shoulders and brings your figure next to hiss, kissing your forehead with those chapped and dry lips that feel like a fresh towel you washed without fabric softener. 

–Were you going to confess your sins eventually?– You joke, still smiling.

–Perhaps, yes. Seems like we’re going to be busy earlier than I expected, though. 

He smirks, a flashing Charlie Dalton smirk. You groan, annoyed, in response.

–Fucking disgusting, Charlie.

–Sure, sure. 

–It's too hot to have sex, Charlie. Don't tell me you don't think so.

–You just told me you liked me, and you have already started to protest?

He shakes his head in mock disapproval.

–You’re not going anywhere, like this.

You chuckle.

–Kiss me, and I'll stop whining.

–Could have told me earlier, maybe we could have actually got to have sex,– he laughs, leaning in. 

His lips are on yours; they're soft, gente, and warm, but still rough and dry. 

God, this boy needs chapstick so badly.

[t-annhauser]

Adesso siamo ancora agli sports minori, tipo le gare di puzzette e il lancio della forchetta, ma quando arriverà l'atletica, la regina delle discipline, allora sì che vedremo all'opera il superuomo, l'ideale greco. No agli sport ridicoli: quelli col visierino e i paraocchi che centrano un post-it con la pistolina ad acqua, la breakdance, la BMX, lo skateboard, il beach volley e tutte ste americanate del picio, le arti marziali orientali in genere che francamente non c'entrano una mazza col Monte Olimpo (visione bizzarra di Zeus in accappatoio che atterra Marte con una piedata in testa come Bruce Lee), sì al pancrazio e agli sport che prevedono il lancio di solidi platonici ed euclidei, come l'esaedro, il dodecaedro, il peloponneso, ecc., ritorno all'ideale della kalokagathia, modernità come malattia infestante della bellezza.

[longtimenospooning-luci]

AO3 Recs

Updated 2/27/23

Member x Reader:

To love, to protect, to claim by Burn_The_Magpies_Wings (Jimin)

Limbo by yoongimingyu (Namjoon)

I'll take you from him by KellyMcAllister (Namjoon)

First Words by caffeinegremlin (Yoongi)

Tell Me You Love Me by effelishere (Yoongi)

Over and Out by bangtanstanst (Namjoon)

Riding Red by btsstan12 (Jungkook)

Don't talk to the neighbours by Hopefulbangtan (Yoongi)

Set Me Free by justatiredpotato (Yoongi)

Kalokagathia by dalgi_jungoo (Jungkook)

Keep Me Safe by tanniefic (Hoseok)

The Web You Weave by Lu_luebells (Hoseok)

Adorable Psychopaths by flickeringwarmth (OT7)

Homecoming by Seokiecoffee/SaccharineCoffee (Yoongi)

Priestess & Serpent by AEM888 (Taehyung)

Taboo Attachment by AEM888 (Jimin)

Dwindling Healing by btsstan12 (Jimin)

Flowers Need Time To Bloom by Snurt (Jungkook/Taehyung)

House of Hope by arghsigh (OT7)

Redamancy by dalgi_jungoo (OT7)

Meritocracy by saylilirose (OT7)

Protection Squad by CheeWrites (Yoongi)

A Sea of Indigo by foxymoxy (Jungkook)

Save Me by avomina & velaris28 (Yoongi/Namjoon)

Kingdom Come by mintedmango (Jungkook)

Member x Member

Let me clean your wounds by outro_taegi (Yoongi/Hoseok)

Smoke and Ash by Smiles (Jin/Yoongi)

Inspired Series: Breathing Fire by oops(hobbes1234)

Of Coffee and Compulsions by ugheuphoric (Yoongi/Taehyung)

A shot in the arm by jkwrites (Yoongi/Namjoon)

Tell Me Again by Oh_Hey_Tae (Yoongi/Taehyung)

Here Is What I Know by Oh_Hey_Tae (Namjoon/Jungkook)

Charmed by kaythebest (Jin/Namjoon)

Found You by Oh_Hey_Tae (Jin/Namjoon)

An Acquired Taste by achy_breaky (Yoongi/Hoseok)

What is Mr. Min Hiding? by faeriebell (Yoongi/Hoseok)

Soundtrack for a broken heart by Ferris_Wheel (Yoongi/Hoseok)

Fire Lilies by themarmalade (Yoongi/Namjoon)

Rough Men Stand Ready by astralminnie (Yoongi/Hoseok)

It's too early for this shit by babybaekxing (Yoongi/Hoseok)

Pull Me Under, Drink Me In by Hpgirl4ever (Yoongi/Taehyung)

Felines and Flowers by YooniesPouts (Yoongi/Jimin)

Collision by bri607 (Yoongi/Jungkook)

Be Mine by ChimmyxKookies (Jimin/Jungkook)

Promise by ChimmyxKookies (Jimin/Jungkook)

I'm Fine by Ilnyh (Yoongi/Hoseok)

Into the Rift by Yumi44 (Yoongi/Hoseok)

Any Day Spent With You is My Favorite by Windshieldwipernoises (Yoongi/Hoseok)

[atalienart]

I think it honestly depends on the writing style whether a protagonist works for me or not, whether it be male or female. I don’t think male protagonists are ‘out’ of style, exactly, but I think readers are getting ‘perfect man fatigue’ because it’s become such a trend to write witty, rugged, ‘perfect’ men as protagonists and it all starts to blend together the more you notice it across books. It gets hard, personally, at least, to engage in material that is about the cookie cutter brooding but kind hearted, conventionally attractive man that might as well be the same guy from the last 6 books of the same genre. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, I just wish there was more nuance to characters, especially leading men. Sometimes the writing style can be really minimalist with certain details and character quirks and for me that really takes away from the experience as a reader. I think it’s all just personal tastes and reader preference whether you enjoy a main character of one gender or the other, and how the writing style and genre present the MCs in the first place.

Yes, the writing style is definitely really important. (Personally I see a lot more female main characters than male ones but maybe it's just the books I read.) Yeah, it seems like perfection is a standard now. Main characters tend to be the most beautiful, the most skilful, the most right but I wouldn't say they're always kind, good people. Well, it probably depends on the genre but more often than not we have this kalokagathia that defines the morality of the book world. Are people really bored with that though? A lot of readers have those very specific preferences about male characters, like: he must have dark hair and not brown eyes, he must be tall and buff and no matter what he must be domineering. But anyway, I completely agree with you about the character details and quirks. They do so much, they can make the character truly iconic or let them blend into all the rest that's been written before. And the nuance! Yes, I'd love more nuance too!

[biankabarniakova]

MEDITATION: Position I. & II.: This is my gravestone, 2024

slivenec marble 80 x 80 x 30 cm

slivenec marble 80 x 70 x 30cm

glass

book

Last year, around this time, I began the

process of embodying different positions of

the same round shape resembling eggs of

reptiles, and I named this series Meditation.

The round shape in pure marble represents

for me the symbol of kalokagathia, harmony,

and nature, which human intervention

violates the meaning of these words.

Two meditative eggs pressed to the ground

by the weight of the text.

In the past, displayed on chairs, today on the

ground, without a pedestal.

Burdened by glass holding the weight of the

text in the form of a book referring to the

latest work: "The street is as mundane as the

day when I was little, about which I dreamed

a dream.

[aurevoirmonty]

"Dans la nature même de l'homme — la divinité le veut — résident des potentialités qui lui permettent quelquefois d'apparaître comme diogenes, c'est-à-dire issu des dieux. C'est pourquoi tous les peuples indo-européens ont tenté, littéralement, d'incarner les valeurs aristocratiques et populaires dans leurs familles ; c'est ce que les Grecs nommaient la kalokagathia."

Hans F.K. Günther, Religiosité indo-européenne (1987)

[bumblebeefeel]

Kalokagathia.

La belleza interior y exterior combinada en una persona.

[unatestadellidra]

Guarda "Kalokagathia ft. @audiolibrilorenzopieri5513" su YouTube

[ciurmastortateatro]

Ringrazio @pierfrancescofavino per le belle e sensate parole, che rivelano un attore con una sensibilità fuori dal comune nel panorama italiano. Noi però c'eravamo mossi per tempo, senza aspettare che tempo facesse e senza attendere vanamente i vari ministri della cultura e istruzione succedutisi in questi anni. Noi vogliamo anche spingerci oltre, vogliamo non solo che il Teatro diventi materia d'insegnamento nella didattica, ma che ogni scuola sia dotata di un teatro e/o di uno spazio teatrale. Viceversa i Teatri dovrebbero aprirsi alle scuole, uscire da se stessi e coinvolgere i giovani come protagonisti. Operare quella trasmissione di eredità che si è bruscamente interrotta in quest'ultimo periodo. Creare un nuovo pubblico, una nuova drammaturgia, una nuova stretta alleanza tra scuola e teatro, tra istruzione e arte in quella che dovrà essere una nuova Paidéia artistica fautrice di Bellezza e Bontà, un 'Risveglio di Primavera' che si traduca in una "Movida Teatrale". Paidòs in greco antico vuol dire ragazzo, fanciullo. Ed è proprio da questo termine che vogliamo partire per proporre una nuova Paideia scolastica dove l'apprendimento del ragazzo avvenga attraverso la recitazione e l'arte di opere che trasmettano i valori condivisi di una civiltà, al fine di eliminare ogni svantaggio e ingiustizia e trasformare un alunno in un cittadino completo armonicamente inserito nella comunità e nella società ossia come direbbero i greci: “portatore di bellezza e bontà” ( Kalokagathìa ) "Che l'arte.Mi.Sia gentile" Spettacolo di @imhocompany #photography @cristiano_biagioni_ph #teatro #scuola #istruzione #arte #paideia #movida #covid_19 #artemisiagentileschi #theatre #theater #adolescenza #risvegliodiprimavera #wedekind #chetempochefa #ciurmastorta #stefanoluci #kalokagathia (presso Sala Shalom - Ex Teatro Kolosseum) https://www.instagram.com/p/COzmxgWFvkJ/?igshid=19mqds82d9nix

[everythingthemoontouches]

There's always enough light to get back up, just reach for it baby boo. I believe in you 💕

[42soul]

Equilibrium by Walde

[route-rocks]

Equilibrium by Walde

[sophiebaek]

The Bridgertons as the Greek Olympians

| Anthony - Zeus | Benedict - Apollo | Colin - Hermes | Daphne - Hera | Eloise - Artemis | Francesca - Athena | Gregory - Hades | Hyacinth - Hestia |

See the spouses version here

[audiovisual-dept]