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slipper007 · 3 years

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p ☀️art museums: what’s your favourite museum, or type of museum? 💕💕

☀️art museums: what’s your favourite museum, or type of museum? (doing this)

Word Count: 1,864

Also on AO3 [masterpost]

Two years after the world didn’t end, Team Free Will 3.0 started traveling.

They didn’t always stick together, or even stay in the United States (Sam and Eileen made the trip to Ireland), but they knew they all still had a home in the Bunker.

It was simultaneously freeing and terrifying to be in control of their own fates, something that Sam, Cas, and Jack had all taken in stride. While Eileen struggled at times, Dean was the only one held back by it, as much as he tried not to be. The moment he had first realized that his life was not his own, he’d fought against it out of instinct and righteousness, but now that he had it…

As much as Castiel and his brother both assured him that he was who he was on his own terms, rather than whatever Chuck’s machinations had wanted to him to be, he worried he didn’t know himself. He was just as adrift as he had been in his teens and twenties, desperately trying to emulate his father in order to find a sense of self; as he had been freshly back from hell, violent and afraid of everything he had done and become; as he had been standing in that graveyard with God telling him to kill when he knew revenge wasn’t what his mother would have wanted and wasn’t what he truly wanted.

Castiel had told him in his confession, his brother in several passing speeches over a lifetime, and Dean himself had said it straight to God’s face, but was it true? Who or what was he outside of saving people and hunting things, outside of the narrative Chuck had constructed his entire lifetime?

The vastness of the question was enough to make anyone spiral, so he tried to avoid it.

Charlie helped when she came over. With Sam and Eileen abroad, and Cas all too willing to have deep conversations Dean wasn’t ready for as much as he loved him, she and Dean became closer. She had been staying at the Bunker for a time, not long after Jack and Billie brought her back. She, too, was finding it difficult to adjust to the new world they found themselves in – she had tried for a full year and a half to get her legs under her on her own, but the world had changed in the six years before she had been brought back. Even though she had managed to reinvent herself numerous times before, it was difficult. The Winchesters were more than willing to offer her a place to stay in the meantime.

It worked well for everyone, though it was particularly chaotic now that Sam and Eileen were taking a brief vacation abroad. Dean was constantly with his two best friends (one of whom was his lover), as well as Jack. Charlie and Cas had become close, something that Charlie had deemed “WLW/MLM solidarity” (neither Dean nor Cas knew what that meant). To Jack, Charlie had taken the role of cool aunt, which was both wonderful and terrifying in equal regard, especially given that Jack was, at this point, back to being in a body his own age with his original powers rather than those of a god. The combination of a super-powered six-year-old and a nerdy LARP-enthusiast was certainly an interesting one, especially given how their energies fed and built on each other’s.

It was this merry band that found themselves inside an art museum one hot August afternoon.

Charlie and Dean wandered the lower gallery for a short while as Castiel took Jack through a more kid-focused section, and for a time they wandered in silence.

“So how are you today?”

“You live with me,” Dean responded, only to be faced with a shrug. “How are you?”

“Today’s been good,” Charlie said with transparency. “I woke up again. Started sewing more of my Triss costume – from The Witcher video games, not the show, you know? Now I get to hang out with friends and see some pretty cool art. Maybe I’ll apply for another job today, or bake some bread, or we can finish getting me all caught up on Game of Thrones.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Dude, spoilers!” She looked straight to him, and Dean shook his head. “Anyway, you’re dodging the question by asking about my awesome life. Not cool, so spill.”

Dean sighed as he walked by another painting of fruit. “I don’t know, Charlie. Could be better, could be worse.”

“Figured out who Dean Winchester is yet?”

“Do any of us truly know who we are?” Dean quipped back.

“Really?”

“Lil’ existentialism never killed anyone,” Dean said with a shrug. “But no, not yet. It’s all still just a big…mess…of what’s him and what’s me.”

“Well, here’s a start for you: Dean Winchester is my friend, and always will be, regardless of whatever some crack writer says.”

“Pretty sappy, but I’ll take it.”

“Shut up.”

Dean Winchester is a friend.

When Cas and Jack rejoined the pair a little later, they all wandered up to the 12th to 19th century European gallery. Jack and Charlie broke away when they came across the tapestries. Castiel, however, was drawn to a painting a little further in. The gallery was still and quiet as Dean joined him.

“St. Sebastian, huh?” Dean said, reading the label. “Know him?”

“My memory of 200 BCE is muddled at best,” Castiel said. “I don’t think so. The painting is beautiful, though, if tragic.”

Dean looked at it again, trying to see what Castiel saw. A beautiful mouth was twisted in pain as arrows lodged in the body, unstoppable. The arms were contorted and restrained, rendering punishment inescapable. The eyes were wide and dark, looking upwards as if begging for divine intervention that would never come.

In it, he saw himself. He saw his struggles with faith in a higher power, with the needless suffering he and his little family had been put through. He saw his loss, his fear, the control he lost when he realized he would never be free from Chuck. What he didn’t see was the anger.

Beyond that, however, he saw Castiel. He saw Cas’ expression when the Mark had worn Dean down, when he had thrown Cas to the floor along side the corpses of the Stynes. It was the same loss, the same fear. The expression was akin to brokenness yet not shattered. He was still faithful, still true. It was the same look on his face when he had confessed in the dungeon. Beautiful but tragic.

What had Dean ever done to deserve that resoluteness, that level of trust in spite of the fear.

“I’m sorry,” he started, words catching in his throat. How did he even begin to make up for all he had done? Yet, it was as if Cas had read his mind. Hell, he was an angel. Maybe he just knew.

Castiel turned to him, a familiar softness in eyes not tainted by pain or prayer for intervention. Dean could lose himself in the deep blue seas.

“You’re forgiven. You’ve been forgiven.”

They stood side by side, listening to Jack’s squeals of joy only a room over, for several minutes before Castiel spoke again.

“You’re unsure of who you are,” Castiel said. It was a fact they both knew, even as Dean started to protest the topic. “I’ve already told you what I think, but let me remind you. You’re the single most loving person I have ever known. You love in spite of Chuck. You care about this broken world, even when it seems hopeless. You always have.” He paused for a long moment before saying, “In plainest terms, you’re a lover, not a fighter.”

“I don’t know about that one. Can’t I be both?”

Castiel let out a long-suffering sigh at that before wandering away to look at the other paintings.

Dean stayed by the painting of St. Sebastian for another few minutes, trying to see what Castiel saw in it before hearing Jack call for him a little way away, his high, childish voice carrying through the halls.

Dean Winchester is a lover.

Downstairs, there was a special exhibition on the history of dance. Jack practically dragged Dean in, his eyes wide and excitement palpable. Charlie and Castiel laughed and promised to catch up in a few minutes – Charlie wanted to grab a print of an art piece from the museum store. Dean and Jack wandered from exhibit to exhibit, looking at everything from classic vinyl to tap shoes. Despite the artifacts and objects, news clippings and sound bites, Jack was fascinated by a video of people swing dancing projected on the wall.

“What’s up, kid?”

“I wish I could do that.”

“You can,” Dean said. “You just have to do what they’re doing.”

Jack looked up to him, eyes wide and a broad grin starting to cross his face.

“Will you show me?”

It took a little bit of practice, and they missed more of the moves than they got, even with Jack standing on Dean’s shoes, but they both enjoyed what they were doing, which made it worth it. Jack’s smile as he danced up to Charlie and Castiel a few minutes later made it all the more precious.

“Come dance with us!” he called out before rushing back over to where Dean still stood.

“Having fun?” Cas asked as

“Cas!” Jack called. “Come on, come on, come on!”

Castiel smiled and shook his head before turning to Charlie and taking her hands. They instantly fell into sync with the video, matching the moves in perfect synchronicity. Dean felt himself stop in shock as Castiel flipped Charlie over his shoulder as if it was no great feat.

“Woah, when did you learn to dance like that?”

“I do have some memories of watching humanity. I was even on Earth when this dance was invented.”

“And I took dance lessons a few years ago,” Charlie offered by way of explanation.

“I guess we’ll just have to up our game, huh Jack?”

Jack giggled, his gap-toothed smile looking all the more excited. They busted out a few new moves, even improvising for a while.

“Dude, you dance like a dad!” Charlie laughed, twirling Castiel as she did so.

Dancing there in the museum, Jack on his feet as Castiel and Charlie watched on, Dean came to a final realization of the day.

Dean Winchester is a father.

As the day drew to a close, the group started to head out. Jack clung to Dean’s back, wiped out after a long day of dancing and wandering the museum. He watched the birds fly overhead in the golden light as they wandered to the car. Cas took the backseat with Jack, who promptly fell asleep.

“This was fun,” Charlie said, setting the bag with her art print on the seat between her and Dean. “It’d been a while since I’d gone out like this.”

It had been fun. It was nice to enjoy the world rather than save it.

Even if he was still working on figuring out who he was, Dean finally felt content.

#fluff #domestic fluff #supernatural #spn fic #dean winchester #castiel #charlie bradbury #jack kline #kid!jack #spncreatorsdaily #creativecavier #userdee #userstarry #userpris #rambleoncas #tuserari #usershey #slipper007writes

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witchybluedeity · 3 years

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Not Like This Part One

I blame @godsliltippy, @tsarinatorment, @gumnut-logic and @flyboytracy this entire idea.

John appearing mid-Pendergast marathon made Gordon jump way more than it should have, and the smirk on Scott's face proved the pilot had seen it. "John! It was getting to the good part!"

"We have a situation."

That got his attention. Within seconds Gordon and Scott both switched from casual brothers to International Rescue operatives, a skill they learned in WASP and the Air Force. "What's up John?"

"There's a whale beached on a sandbank off of Tasmania's West Coast, the caller said its name is… Gatsby?"

"You're kidding!”

John shook his head, bringing up the image of the beached whale. "Nope."

Gordon grinned and stood up. “I'm on my way!”

“Gordon, we don't rescue animals-”

“Scott, you don't get it! This is Gatsby! He's a research whale! He helps scientists and marine biologists monitor how much marine life take care of the ocean! They've already learned how whales are essentially the hearts of the ocean. They're a key participant in making sure the ocean's biological carbon pump is working efficiently by absorbing the dissolved atmospheric carbon from the surface and sequestering it to the sea floor. Since they're one of the largest marine animals, they can absorb up to 33 tons of carbon when they reach old age! They're helping the planet!" The aquanaut concluded his speech with a challenging glare towards Scott, who sent back a glare of his own.

"We're not an animal rescue association, Gordon. We rescue humans."

"Humans are animals too, Scott! International Rescue will rescue Gatsby, whether I have to go alone or not!" Gordon raced towards the small aquarium where the flooring concealed his chute, determined to postpone the argument until he wasn't in a hurry.

Scott had other ideas. "You can't be serious!"

"La la la, I can't hear you!" He nearly slammed his hand onto the hidden scanner in the class, impatiently waiting for the walls to surround him and take him to his awaiting 'Bird. "I'm going. And I dare you to try to stop me."

The venom in his brother's voice caused Scott to flinch despite everything, and he let out a heavy sigh, facepalming. Stubborn brothers.

The now-agitated aquanaut folded his arms tightly over his chest before turning to change into his uniform, releasing a heavy sigh. “Goddammit Scott.” Letting his training drop, his excited marine-loving side took over and a smile blossomed on his face. “I’m saving the Gatsby! Nothing could go wrong!”

The mechanical arms helped him finish suiting up, and soon Gordon was taking a deep breath and diving into Four’s tank with eagerness he usually reserved for ocean swims. Thunderbird Four’s airlock opened for her pilot the moment he hit the water, and as always he patted her outer hull in thanks before pulling himself in.

“Get ready girl.” He grinned as he positioned himself in the seat, flipping into the control room. “We’re saving one of the most famous whales.” Starting up her systems was mandatory, but it sent a ripple of calmness through him, as though she was reassuring him. As though she could sense his nervousness prior to every mission.

One of the many reasons he loved her.

“Thanks girl.” With a smile, Gordon patted her dash, watching the tank door slide open to reveal the ocean surrounding Tracy Island. “Thunderbird 4 is go.”

“F.A.B Thunderbird 4. Professor Shikund is going to meet you there.”

“Professor Shikund?! No way!” Gordon couldn’t help bouncing in his seat a little, drawing a smile from his older brother. “You can tell him I’ll be right there!”

“Your ETA is half an hour.”

Gordon fell still as he considered the time frames, biting his lip in worry. “How long has Gatsby been out of water John?” The other end was quiet for a moment.

“The Professor wants to talk to you personally. Should I-?”

“Patch him in John! Patch him in!” So what if he was fanboying? He’d read everything about the Professor, and had dreamt of meeting him.

Not even thirty seconds later, a new voice filled the cabin. “International rescue?”

Gordon nearly squealed, grin splitting his face in two. “Professor Shikund!!”

The Professor chuckled softly, shaking his head fondly. “I’m guessing you the marine expert of the team?”

“I wouldn’t say expert-” The aquanaut flushed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just have a great interest in what happens below sea level.”

“That’s an understatement” John piped up, his hologram still active next to the Professor’s.

Shikund’s lips quirked into a small grin. “As much as I’d like to have a conversation with you, I currently have a beached whale waiting for rescue.”

Gordon’s eyes widened slightly in remembrance. In his excitement to talk to the Professor, he’d forgotten about the reason he was headed to the sandbank. How had he forgotten about that? “Right, right! Gatsby. How long has he been out of the water for? I’m twenty minutes out.”

“Gatsby’s been out here for approximately two hours and thirty-four minutes. He can only be out for another fifty-three before he perishes.”

“Right, okay.” Gordon reached up above the viewing glass and flicked a few switches, narrowing his eyes slightly. “If I push it I can be there in thirteen minutes. Four won’t like it, but a life is a life, and we save them.” With a flick of his wrist, the aquanaut swiped John away when the red-head opened his mouth to comment.

He’d known his brother long enough to recognize John was going to verbalize something similar to Scott. He didn’t need unnecessary comments.

“That’ll give us forty minutes to get him back into the ocean.” The professor didn’t like it, and neither did Gordon. It was barely any time, and he only had Thunderbird Four’s gear. They would have to improvise.

“Then we’ll save him in thirty.” Determination filled his voice as the aquanaut pushed his ‘Bird’s engines, plans already being formulated. One thing he knew he could try was using the robotic arms to either dig away the sand or gently pull the whale back into the water.

A frown appeared at the thought. Both options could be dangerous towards Gatsby’s health, which was something Gordon wanted to avoid at all costs, but they didn’t have many options. Thunderbird Four wasn’t geared up like her sisters. “What equipment do you have with you now?”

“I don’t have much that’ll be useful I’m afraid, I only came out here to check up on Gatsby.”

A heavy sigh left Gordon at the confession, one hand leaving the controls to run through blond hair. “This won’t be easy.” But then again, nothing they ever did was. Even the easiest missions sometimes took a turn for the worst.

Scott at home while his brothers were all out on missions proved that.

“But can we do it?”

Gordon felt his heart stop. What if they couldn’t do it? What if he couldn’t do it? He’d come out unprepared, carrying only the minimal gear. Something an IR operative never did. Something an ex-WASP Lieutenant never did.

But he knew someone he could depend on. Leaving the professor’s question unanswered for the moment, the aquanaut touched the IR symbol on his baldric. “Thunderbird Four to Thunderbird Two, are you there?”

It was quiet for a moment before his brother responded. “This better be important Gordon, I’m en-route to a hospital with injured victims in cargo.”

Wincing slightly, phantom pain momentarily spiked through his back. He’d known Virgil had been sent to a damaged ship in the South Atlantic, but he’d opted to stay behind. It was a busy day, and Gordon knew his brother could handle it, especially since the GDF had also been dispatched to help out. “Anything bad?”

“Nothing that’ll keep them hospitalized for long. What do you need?”

He chuckled, shaking his head with a stage-whispered “Lucky bastards” that would earn him a scolding if Grandma heard. “Those pods still functional? Might need one.”

“Dear brother mine, I’m not heavy-handed. I’ll be ten minutes dropping these guys off, then I’ll join you. What’s your position?”

“One time! One time! And I’m headed to the West Coast of Tasmania, twenty minute fly from your location.” He wasn’t mentioning how he’d worked with Scott to keep on eye on their brothers. “Forty minute time slot already, gonna need a land pod but keep it watertight, it might get a bit wet.” Narrowing his eyes, Gordon could see the seafloor beneath him slowly rising, a sign he was nearing land.

“What’s the situation?”

“Beached science whale, he’s an important one Virg.” The hesitance in Virgil’s response sent a wave of irritation through his veins. A life was a life!

“Scott’ll have your hide.”

“He can go choke on Grandma’s food for all I care.” And right now, he really didn’t. Scott was wrong, they did save animal lives. They’d never specified what lives they saved in all the years International Rescue had been operating, so why suddenly start now? ‘Because Scott is already riled up from being grounded’ was the answer in the back of his mind, but Gordon ignored it.

“Ouch Gords.” Virgil’s sigh was audible over the comms, reaching up to flick switches above the visual, a sure sign he was changing altitude. “Don’t chew him out, he’s just aggravated.”

“Oh, and I’m not? You try dealing with his grumpy ass while everyone else is out for a good six hours and see how aggravated you are.” The fact the two brothers had grown up dealing with each other while he, John and Alan had strayed to their own paths passed over him.

“Brother issues?” The professor queried, amusement clear in her expression when Gordon startled for the second time that day, not that he’d admit it to anyone still. “I know how you feel.”

Gordon frowned, head cocking to one side. “You do?”

“Veterinarian Harley Shikund-”

“He’s your brother?! Do you realize how many injured animals I’ve taken to him?!” He could hear Virgil snickering beside Shikund, but Gordon paid no attention.

“Oh I’m aware, he’s always mentioning an International Rescue operative bringing in injured animals for him to check over. Says it keeps him wondering what you’re going to bring him next.”

Virgil’s hologram blinked out, and Gordon bounced in his seat.

“When I saw Gatsby in trouble, that’s why I called. I knew this animal loving operative could help.” Shikund smiled, patting something behind her, most likely the beached Gatsby. The soft clicks that sounded through the comm unit confirmed it was the distressed whale.

Gordon nearly melted at the communication, and his determination to help Gatsby grew just that bit more. “Tell Gatsby I’ll be there in three minutes. Then we can get started helping back into the ocean.”

“You got it. Don’t get too close though, or you’ll be needing a tow. The sandbank rises fast.”

“F.A.B Professor, see you soon.” Cutting the connection, Gordon allowed himself a deep, happy sigh. First the Pendergasts, now Harley and Professor Shikund. He was meeting all his idols in this line of work. Sitting up with a big smile, he decreased his speed in preparation. It’d take Thunderbird Four one minute longer to get there, but he didn’t exactly want to get her beached alongside Gatsby.

That’d be fun to explain to Virgil.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #story #Thunderbird Four #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Gatsby the Whale #Professor Shikund

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princelestatdelioncourt · 3 years

Link

Character Name

The Innamorati (Lovers Class)

(The characters of Isabella, Lelio, Flavio and Vittoria are all part of the Innamorati. However since there are so many more Commedia dell'arte characters that are part of this same class that are not fully developed by Commedia dell'Carte, we gave them their own "catch all" page to include research on this vital class of commedia characters that may not be specific to the four characters listed above. If you are seeking general information on the Innamorati, but sure to consult the web pages of the afore mentioned characters as well.)

In Italian, the Lovers (of whom four-two would-be pairs - are usually needed for a full scenario) are called innamorati. The males have names such as Silvio, Fabrizio, Aurelio, Orazio, Ottavio, Ortensio, Lelio, Leandro, Cinzio, Florindo, Lindoro, etc.; the females: Isabella, Angelica, Eularia, Flaminia, Vittoria, Silvia, Lavinia, Ortensia, Aurelia, etc. - Rudlin

Whether their names are Flavio, Ottavio, Orazio, Silvio, Leandro or Cinthio del Sole; Federigo, Lelio, Mario, or Fulvio - all reveal a fatal trace of fatuity. - Duchartre

Status

High, but brought low by the hopelessness of their infatuation. -Rudlin

Costume

The latest fashion. Males sometimes dressed as young soldiers or cadets. Wigs. Actresses would show off their wardrobe in the better companies by changing costume several times during the course of the action. -Rudlin

They had no particular costume, but dressed in the latest fashion of the period to which they belonged. - Duchartre

Wore stunning silk dresses, often in antique Renaissance style with necklaces of gold and pearls. - Gordon

Gentry-class dress, nice looking, modest, cute. Usually with a heart motif -Little

Origin (History)

The aristocracy of the Italian Renaissance courts amused themselves with a form they called commedia erudita based on the plays of Terence and Plautus, for example Calandria by Cardinal Bibbiena which, like Shakespeare's later Comedy of Errors, is based on Plautus' Menaechmi. As the professional improvised comedy looked to extend its range it seemed to have borrowed the Lovers from the amateur form. - Rudlin

The most prominent Isabella, Isabella Andreini, belonged to the troupe of Gelosi. - Laver

Physical Appearance

Had to be young, well set up, courteous, gallant even to the point of affectation - in short, a blade and a dandy. - Duchartre

Young and attractive – Rudlin

The lovers and wooers of the Commedia dell'arte were always dapper and engaging and just a trifle ridiculous. - Duchartre

Mask

No actual mask, but heavy make-up. Mascara and beauty spots for both sexes. The make-up in fact becomes a mask enabling performers to play the role well into middle age, or even beyond - Giovan Battista Andreini, son of Francesco, played Lelio until he was 73. Vizard or loup could be worn for disguise, usually made of black velvet. This was a normal accoutrement for society ladies when walking to a rendezvous and could be half- or full-face. But since it has not expression it does not count as a mask in the Commedia sense, although it does provide plenty of plot potential, enabling, for example, Columbina to attend rendezvous in her mistress's place. - Rudlin

Occasionally wore a mask that just covered eyes or a loop mask. - Laver

Signature Props

Handkerchief. Posy. Fan for women. -Rudlin

Stance

They lack firm contact with the earth. Feet invariably in ballet positions, creating an inverted cone. Chest and heart heavy. They are full of breath, but then take little pants on top. Sometimes when situations become too much for them, they deflate totally. – Rudlin

Always very proud.

Walk

They do not walk as much as tweeter, due to the instability of their base. First the head leans the other way to the body sway. Then the arms have to be used, one above the other, as a counterweight. -Rudlin

Poses

Various depending on individual character.

Movements

Actors would use the same dancing masters as the well-to-do whom they were parodying in order to point up the ridiculousness of exaggerated deportment. Movement comes at the point of overbalance leading to a sideways rush towards a new focus, with the arms left trailing behind. Stop at the new point (usually the beloved or some token thereof) before (almost) touching it. The Lovers have little or no physical contact. When there is any, the minimum has maximum effect. - Rudlin

Exaggerated movements of the hands, like feathers flapping in the wind. -Fletcher

Gestures

Often while holding a handkerchief or flower, etc. in the leading hand. The arms never make identical shapes. Because of their vanity, they frequently look in a hand mirror, only to become upset by any minor imperfection which is discovered. Even in extremis they are always looking to see if a ribbon or a sequin is out of place. A button found on the floor or a blemish in the coiffure equals disaster. - Rudlin

Speech Language

Tuscan, making great display of courtly words and baroque metaphors. Well read, knowing large extracts of poems by heart (especially Petrarch). They speak softly in musical sentences - in contrast with the zanni. Their sentences are often flamboyant, hyperbolical, full of amorous rhetoric. By the end of the 17th Century in Paris, the Lovers spoke French. - Rudlin

Animal

Various depending on individual character.

Relationships

They relate exclusively to themselves - they are in love with themselves being in love. The last person they actually relate to in the course of the action is often the beloved. When they do meet they have great difficulty in communicating with each other (usually because of the nerves). And they relate to their servants only in terms of pleading for help. The Lovers love each other, yet are more preoccupied with being seen as lovers, undergoing all the hardships of being in such a plight, than with actual fulfilment. Consequently they frequently scorn each other and feign mild hatred; they rebut, despair, reconcile, but eventually end up marrying in the way of true love when the game is up and they know they cannot play any more. After a quarrel the male may try a serenade to win back favour. This will be (dis)organized by Zanni: he employs musicians who are drunk or spends the money on something else and has tu use tramps off the street. The result is total chaos, but in the end the serenade is beautifully played and sung because everyone miraculously turns out to be good at their job after all. - Rudlin

Relationship to Audience

Extremely aware of being watched. Play with the audience for sympathy in their plight. Occasionally flirts with spectators. -Rudlin

Frequent Plot Function

Indispensable. Without them and their inability to resolve their own problems, there would be no function for the zanni, no struggle between the ineffectuality of youth and the implacability of age. The lovers are never alone on stage - they always have someone with them or spying on them. - Ruldin

Their function was to depict a state of mind rather than to paint a personality. - Duchartre

Characteristics

Thought their protestations would melt a heart of stone, there always seems to be a comic side to everything they say. One wonders if the explanation does not lie in the fact that love often robs the lover of all sense of his or her own absurdity, even though he or she may be the most rational of living men or women under ordinary circumstances.

Whatever the names of the lovers in the commedia dell'arte, they had no other trait as 'characters' than that of being in love. - Duchartre

Three, like primary colors: fidelity, jealously and fickleness. They are vain, petuluant, spoilt, full of doubt and have very little patience. They have a masochistic enjoyment of enforced seperation because it enables them to dramatize their situation, lament, moan, send messages, etc. When the Lovers do meet they are almost always tongue-tied and need interpreters (i.e. a zanni and/or a servetta) who proceed to misinterpret their statements, either through stupidity (Zanni), malicious desire for revenge (Brighella) or calculated self-interest (Columbina). Their attention span is short like young children’s. The fear that they might be nobodies keeps them hyper-animated. Their element is water: they are very wet creatures indeed. The females are more passion-wrought and energetic than their male counterparts.

The lovers exist very much in their own world- and in their own world within that world. Self-obsessed and very selfish, they are more interested in what they are saying themselves and how it sounds than in what the beloved is saying. They are primarily in love with themselves, secondarily in love with love, and only consequentially in love with the beloved. What they learn, if anything, from the tribulations of the scenario is the need to reverse these priorities.

They do, however, come off better than most other Commedia characters: there is no viciousness in them, and less to be reproached for – except vanity and vapidness, which, given their parents, they can hardly be blamed for. They represent the human portential for happiness. – Rudlin

The lover had to play with dash and be able to simulate the most exaggerated passion. - Duchartre

“If then true lovers have ever been crossed It stands as an edict in destiny. Then let us teach our trial patience, Because it is a customary cross, As due to love as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs, Wishes, and tears – poor fancy’s followers.”

Shakespeare

#commedia dell'arte #the innamorati #lelio #Isabella #flaminia #lestat de lioncourt

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aunti-christ-ine · 5 years

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A foreign journalist realizes something Trump supporters don't: Trump is a moron.

– the bid to buy Greenland, adjustments to a weather map hand-drawn with a Sharpie or another self-aggrandising tweet. Our headlines and news bulletins, like headlines and news bulletins everywhere, are full of Trump.

As a political reporter for most of the last 30 years I have also endured many long and rambling political press conferences with Australian prime ministers and world leaders.

But watching a full presidential Trump press conference while visiting the US this week I realised how much the reporting of Trump necessarily edits and parses his words, to force it into sequential paragraphs or impose meaning where it is difficult to detect.

The press conference I tuned into by chance from my New York hotel room was held in Otay Mesa, California, and concerned a renovated section of the wall on the Mexican border.

I joined as the president was explaining at length how powerful the concrete was. Very powerful, it turns out. It was unlike any wall ever built, incorporating the most advanced “concrete technology”. It was so exceptional that would-be wall-builders from three unnamed countries had visited to learn from it.

There were inner tubes in the wall that were also filled with concrete, poured in via funnels, and also “rebars” so the wall would withstand anyone attempting to cut through it with a blowtorch.

The wall went very deep and could not be burrowed under. Prototypes had been tested by 20 “world-class mountain climbers – That’s all they do, they love to climb mountains”, who had been unable to scale it.

It was also “wired, so that we will know if somebody is trying to break through”, although one of the attending officials declined a presidential invitation to discuss this wiring further, saying, “Sir, there could be some merit in not discussing it”, which the president said was a “very good answer”.

The wall was “amazing”, “world class”, “virtually impenetrable” and also “a good, strong rust colour” that could later be painted. It was designed to absorb heat, so it was “hot enough to fry an egg on”. There were no eggs to hand, but the president did sign his name on it and spoke for so long the TV feed eventually cut away, promising to return if news was ever made.

He did, at one point, concede that would-be immigrants, unable to scale, burrow, blow torch or risk being burned, could always walk around the incomplete structure, but that would require them walking a long way. This seemed to me to be an important point, but the monologue quickly returned to the concrete.

In writing about this not-especially-important or unusual press conference I’ve run into what US reporters must encounter every day. I’ve edited skittering, half-finished sentences to present them in some kind of consequential order and repeated remarks that made little sense.

In most circumstances, presenting information in as intelligible a form as possible is what we are trained for. But the shock I felt hearing half an hour of unfiltered meanderings from the president of the United States made me wonder whether the editing does our readers a disservice.

I’ve read so many stories about his bluster and boasting and ill-founded attacks, I’ve listened to speeches and hours of analysis, and yet I was still taken back by just how disjointed and meandering the unedited president could sound. Here he was trying to land the message that he had delivered at least something towards one of his biggest campaign promises and sounding like a construction manager with some long-winded and badly improvised sales lines.

I’d understood the dilemma of normalising Trump’s ideas and policies – the racism, misogyny and demonisation of the free press. But watching just one press conference from Otay Mesa helped me understand how the process of reporting about this president can mask and normalise his full and alarming incoherence.

• Lenore Taylor is the editor of Guardian Australia.

[ reader comments ]

#The Guardian #Australia #opinion #journalist #reporter #so-called president #Lyin Donnie Dotard #tRUmp #moron

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ganondorfthedarklord · 7 years

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Rules of the Account

I apologize sincerely ahead of time for the length but I want to get EVERYTHING out of the way so there are no problems or drama in the future. I want to get every contention down long before it has a chance to become a problem so as to avoid being swept up in some flame war. Please do not be intimidated I’m actually significantly more lenient than it might seem I just want to try and make sure nothing ever explodes into drama wars, I hate drama, love people, and like civil discussion. I also do not assume prior roleplay experience so there’s a handful of details you probably already know, sorry about that. Thank you so much for your time, it is the most valuable thing and I am so grateful you are spending it on me. I look forward to our interactions.

Basic Outline of the Account

I am willing to see if absolutely any character what so ever will work. I am multiverse, multistory, and, as incredibly uncommon as it is to actually succeed in someone achieving this with Ganondorf, multiship. This means that any events in one roleplay or story will have no direct affect on another beyond if it influences the perception of the admin on how to roleplay Ganondorf. As I will go into in more detail later this is not an account where I tag triggers unless to a far extreme in specific areas, namely incest or rape (there may still be implication or reference to events of these things that go untagged but if going into any sort of detail beyond a general inference I will tag it), and as such take this as your warning, Ganondorf is a very violent character when he is set to the situation and I feel that if I tag acts of violence it would damage the portrayal as well as that I would have a tendency to forget to tag them, further studies have shown trigger warnings have been more harmful than helpful to those with actual mental scars in the healing process so I just don’t agree with them. I do not require full out careful writing to the quality of Lovecraft or Shakespeare, I do, however, need something of substance and decent detail usually. I am willing to help any newbies though and I can help with some pointers. Do note the quality and effort of my roleplays usually depends at least somewhat on how much detail I am given and the quality of my partner so the more you put in the better I can put out, after all roleplaying is a partnership and a bit like improvising so we all rely on one another in it. Absolutely anyone can send me any memes from any account, though if we haven’t interacted before and it deals with me judging a character expect me to pop up in messaging before I properly answer, especially so if it’s not a Legend of Zelda profile. Similarly any roleplayer at all can approach me with an idea and I am fully open to discuss anything in messaging for any possible setup for a roleplay. PLEASE feel completely free to contact me through messaging for any clarifications or anything, my messaging is public for a reason. Every meme I’ve ever posted is always open for anyone to send at any point and just about any serious question can be sent to messaging or askbox, just be sure to tell me which one it was if it’s an old one and preferably send me a link, messaging is fine for the link. I am happy to receive constructive criticism and I do not at all mind reminders as Tumblr might have eaten the notification or I may have forgotten as I do not have the most pristine memory. If I seem to be avoiding yours I either missed it or need some extra time to consider how to answer it, sometimes the ones in my drafts the longest are the ones I most care about, sometimes I just need a spark to really piece together my answer.

I take magic anons though may be fairly selective on which I will actually RP and won’t play them to be constant through some period of time but more so reliant on the RPs and interaction based around the M/A.

Note: I will never show private messages, even if we have a complete fall out and hate one another you are free to message me anything but porn, slander, or call out requests and I will gladly listen and converse. I despise call out culture and the mob mentality that it comes with. I am not vengeful so feel free to speak openly. I am also not a person who will block anyone without exhausting every other option, I want to solve things and improve.

Oh also my writing style is heavily inspired by Lovecraft so there might occasionally be some antediluvian words in there. If you have an issue and want me to avoid words like squamous and gibbous just send me a message. They have a certain impact and tone, an ancient air to them that I like to use for Ganondorf but I completely understand not wanting to deal with such an old diction. If you need some clarification on a word rather than full aversion just message me about that word.

General Rules of the Account, Interaction and General Behavior

1: PLEASE SETTLE ISSUES WITH ME IN PRIVATE. IF YOU HAVE A PROBLEM PLEASE DO NOT REBLOG BUT MESSAGE ME. REBLOGGING JUST MAKES MORE PROBLEMS FOR EVERYONE AND DRAMA IS ANNOYING AND SHITTY. THERE IS NO NEED TO MAKE PRIVATE DISPUTES INTO SOME PUBLIC SPECTACLE. IT CREATES MORE PROBLEMS WITH MORE PEOPLE AND IS BAD FOR EVERYONE INVOLVED. IT USUALLY JUST BECOMES A CLUSTERFUCK OF PEOPLE INSULTING EACH OTHER WHERE NOTHING GETS SOLVED AND THEN BLOCKS FOR EVERYONE. I LIKE SOLUTIONS, NOT LYNCH MOBS, NOT BLOCKING, BUT TO SOLVE OUR DIFFERENCES. THIS IS THE ALL-ENCOMPASSING RULE. IF YOU HAVE ANY PROBLEMS AT ALL COME TO ME POLITELY AND I WILL GLADLY TALK IT OVER. THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

2: Do not feel uncomfortable to message me unless you are coming purely to insult me constantly. NOTE: CRITICISM DOES NOT EQUAL INSULT, I REALLY LIKE CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM BECAUSE IT MAKES ME BETTER FROM THAT POINT ON. I HAVE IMPROVED IMMENSELY DUE TO IT. LET ME KNOW WHEN I SCREW UP. I am always open to talk about any problems you are having, anything wrong with myself, and I will try to be as accommodating as I can without compromising my own enjoyment.

3: This is only a rule because many people do it on this site and it got to the point I was getting stressed out, angry, and hostile on an account that is meant for entertainment, relaxation, and socializing purposes after making my views known just once. Sorry if this comes out as a bit of a rant, I just want to avoid all of the drama that it caused, that’s pretty much why half of these rules exist. Please do not just come here to belittle and contort my opinions, to conflate my views with things I do not agree with at all, or to twist how I portray Ganondorf into something that is somehow related to looking down on real life people especially when it’s canon parts of the Gerudo culture and for using multiple other cultures as inspiration in my portrayal of a fictional society. If you want to talk my character, my headcanons, even politics or anything else in a respectful way or have rational criticism of it I am always open to such discussion through private messaging system, I probably greatly disagree with you in many areas but even on extreme accusations if approached respectfully I’ll talk on it. Try to be tolerant of people with reasonable but differing views. I’m a debater by nature and I enjoy such talk, but if all you want is to be disrespectful, insulting, and condescending then please do leave. I hold strongly to principles of individual rights and the principle of free speech and try to be as welcoming as I can without hurting my own enjoyment and violating my values. I ask for simple decency and hold strong to the idea all people of all ideologies, no matter how stupid or intelligent, are free to speak their opinion, including to hate and belittle me. I just don’t have to listen and mockery is just as free game. This will only be brought up when absolutely necessary due to the context of something sent to me or in the comments of a post dealing with these topics, I will not actively post anything political anywhere on here. Also do not think disagreements mean that a friendship is impossible. I can be friends with people of most opinions and views even if directly conflicted on some very serious personal values.

4: Do not insult me behind my back please. Seriously, don’t do it. If you are going to insult me, at least have the courage to do it in front of me and give me that decency. I truly despise being talked about behind my back and it instantly destroys any trust I have if I find out, this relates to something that happened back when I was about 13 or 14 that was rather dramatic and very painful in my life. It is something that crushes every a single bit of trust I have. I work to not do it to anyone so please don’t do it to me, it will likely destroy the possibility of anything more than distant acquaintance if I learn about it. If you have a problem, again, just say so to me and I will seek ways to improve.

5: I’m truly and honestly sorry, I apologize, but due to religious and personal reasons I am not able to call someone by anything other than he or she in my discussions. I can learn your name and always use that instead if preferred. It just feels completely contrary to my beliefs, my religious faith, and it makes me feel like I’m dehumanizing a person because it feels like I’m describing an object and that makes me feel absolutely horrible in my gut. I think of everyone, the worst and best of humanity, is made of the same flesh and blood as me no matter. They are all human beings and should be thought of as such, not faceless monsters but humans, the worst are not worth the effort of hating, but pity, for they are truly pitiful people. That is a policy I have and I will respect your beliefs in this, please respect mine. I have respect of whatever you want to be identified as and believe even if I disagree, just have respect of what I want and believe as well. Call it selfish if you wish but I can’t bring myself to do it and feel right about it. It’s a mental tick that grates really badly on my conscience. I can refer to you by name however and avoid pronouns altogether.

6: If you have any general problems with me, my portrayal, or anything at all discuss it in messaging and I will gladly talk it out. I am an adult, I can handle complaints like an adult, and if they are legitimate complaints I will change accordingly. Again, make it a PRIVATE conversation. There is no point in dragging these things out into the public, I won’t do it to you, don’t do it to me. It just makes the problem worse for everyone. I know I keep bringing it up but it’s important above all else in my rules.

7: I don’t use trigger warnings on violence or gore unless it is a graphic picture, which I have never posted, though sexual writing will usually be tagged NSFW. My account will have descriptive gore in its writing, it will describe mangled bodies and twisted corpses. Violence in my writing will not have trigger warnings, so take this as your warning. I do not back away from depicting gore and actually enjoy describing a bloody mess, even if in real life I can barely look at other people’s blood without entering a bit of a panic. If you find things like this hard to read that’s fine but this may not be the right blog for you. I tackle many dark themes. Extremely sexual things such as actual intercourse, however, will almost always have a read more break and an NSFW tag if I even post anything of the sort (I’m not a fan of detailed sex). Descriptive, gory violence occurs suddenly and without warning at times with this portrayal. This is your warning for the profile, I won’t warn you of when Ganondorf is about to tear something apart beyond maybe some plotting if necessary, he simply will do it. I would feel like I was discrediting him otherwise as it’s important in writing to get the full impact of what he is doing. Passing mentions of other seriously dark issues will not be tagged, but anything detailed that is sent in detailing subjects similar to rape, incest, or other similar actions will be tagged and likely beneath a cut. Note: My characters do not ever engage in any of those types of actions.

8: There be spoilers here, there’s not a whole lot to spoil in Zelda as most twists are really obvious but if you want to avoid them then you may want to seek another. I personally rarely give a shit about spoilers. Also I swear pretty passively when relaxed and not around family so be aware of that if you haven’.t noticed yet

9: Do not use art I create without giving credit, I would also appreciate you confirming that it is okay with me first though if you’re using any of it, though I really doubt I will ever need to enact this rule.

10: Recognize that my character and myself are two separate entities, just because I write something does not mean I approve of it. I have written things that disgust me, but I write them because they are part of the story. Writing about the snapping of bones actually does create some kind of cringe reaction in me, something about compound fractures makes me react even in written form, but I’ll still write it because I want to be descriptive and I do enjoy writing gore, even though if I see another person’s injury I can barely stand the sight of it in person.

11: While I do care about others I do not want other people demanding I change how I speak and act. Come courteously and I will gladly and calmly talk it out. Follow my rules.

12: Every time something happens that causes a rift, I will want to discuss it before actions are taken. I can get passionate about things especially when I’m distressed, agitated, and have been going without sleep. It’s a flaw, I know, and I cannot possibly express how sincerely sorry I am for it in words. I want to work things out with everyone as much as possible. Please, I want to be understanding and empathetic, but that goes two ways, I’m not perfect as shown by some of the other rules so please be a bit understanding here. I fail, I break, and I do stupid shit that gets me in trouble, just give me an opportunity to make it up and get better if I ever do.

Roleplay Specific

1: If you are going to drop an RP with me please let me know so that I don’t keep bothering you trying to ensure we are still in contact or looking back at it. Send me a message notifying me that you are dropping the RP. I’m a person who thinks about RPs between turns and tries to get a general outline for the next one so the sooner I know it’s dropped the better. So many people have broke this rule.

2: If you have an idea for a full and proper roleplay setup it’s best to contact me before sending me an RP. I will accept RPs without the discussion if they are well made and make sense for Ganondorf but I like to be able to talk things out a bit and know you are going to be making an RP with me before you create it. Make sure it works for my character and such so that it’s worked out before posting.

3: I am unlikely to RP situations that Ganondorf would never be in nor will I generally RP with people who do not have enough detail. Now that is not saying I’m snobbish just basic detail. For example, I’ve had people go essentially “I dodge and stab you to death” without any explanation, any chance to respond, or even having any of the proper tools to actually harm Ganondorf. I’m much less likely to want to RP with people who go “I attack” but anyone of any level can approach, just expect similar quality or asks for clarifications and the very possible drop if it simply becomes too arbitrary, though I will talk in messaging with you before hand.

4: Do not tell me how to run my character. If you have a disagreement with me on my portrayal feel free to discuss it with me in chat but don’t demand me to change my ideas and my opinions. This is a heavily personalized take on the character focusing on a realistic portrayal based on the psyches and justifications of historical figures both horrible and great, building a uniquely Ganondorf psyche inspired by them while remaining loyal to the version given by Legend of Zelda. If you see an issue with my portrayal please do tell me, I like constructive criticism, but don’t demand it.

5: Romance can occur but it will rely on some at the very least basic chemistry and Ganondorf is a man who is not very sexually active and is extremely picky, do not expect if you try to approach Ganondorf as a date that he will even consider you worth his time to speak with. Do not expect Ganondorf to be kind and caring about your character. Do not expect Ganondorf to like your character or engage in anything with it. He is not your friend. He is not your buddy. He is Ganondorf and he has no hesitations about breaking your bones if you push too far. He will behave as he behaves in my portrayal not as you want him to behave. I’ve made occasional AUs to work with good friends that adjust his personality but this is very rare and very specific. I don’t do ships often and only in the most specific circumstances, it has to come naturally and it has to fit Ganondorf’s character at least roughly, and though I’ve made some exceptions those are very rare and usually in PM variants of RP, it is a very difficult task to meet. Even then, he’s not the most affectionate of lovers, he’s distant, possessive, and aggressive. His main reason for a relationship is children rather than any partnership so it will not often be a merry match made in heaven. For romantic RP no one under 18 please. No minors. Feel free to RP anything with me but romantic stuff if you’re a minor. It’s just uncomfortable for everyone and can cause legal problems.

6: If we go into a serious combat RP I usually expect some basic understanding of how weapons and armor work and a basic grasp of military strategy. Not mastery or having read through all of The War As I Knew It or anything just some basic knowledge on the purpose and operation of the weapon your character uses and how it reacts and how armor behaves in actual combat. This isn’t a big rule it’s just a pet peeve of mine.

7: Please, no godmodding, powerplaying, auto-hitting (do not decide for me what strikes me, I will decide how my character reacts and how it strikes, if you feel I am being unfair contact me), auto-dodging (you can’t just go “I dodge” forever and ignore every attack unless there is a good lore reason for it), metagaming, or retconning. These are standard rules of roleplay that most accounts include in one way or another, often not even bothering to label them and are better described in the attached graphic. If you made a mistake and want to take something back I’m perfectly open to discussing it but don’t get upset if I say no, I have never actually said no but don’t get angry about any disagreements.

Primary roleplay linguistics used by this account: (may vary if requested by partner)

(Post number in the RP for keeping track of order if one wishes to go back)

Partner’s writing

This is my primary character speaking

“This is someone other than my primary character speaking”

This is either a phrase being emphasized while it is being spoken or it is something written down.

This is a thought or occasionally an emphasized action, use context

This is an action, contextual information, anything not previously mentioned within the RP

[[This is the admin speaking, all of these linguistics come from my origin as an RPer on another site where this was the standard. If you have issues with my linguistics I am willing to alter them]]

I do not have a password, I trust you to have read this. Thank you very much and have fun. I anticipate your interaction, I’m almost always hungry for more activity. I wish you only the best and look forward to good interactions and pleasant discussions.

Sincerely, Jacob “Puncledorf”

#Account Rules

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epfloutthere · 6 years

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Social life at the station

The interaction with the other researchers on the station is very open and marked by mutual interest in our respective research projects. As I wrote earlier, the start was a bit bumpy, because the station was filled up to the brim with busy researchers and the cafeteria was too small to fit us all. Consequently, we had to eat fast and without talking and it took a bit longer to get to know each other. But in the later stages of our stay everybody relaxed because there was plenty of space and time to interact.

For all three rounds of new arrivals, Banja night was the time to make friends with everybody else. Banja is the Russian equivalent of sauna. It plays an important role in Russian social life and even for business as we learned. Apparently, many deals and agreements are sealed in Banja. At Samoylov, Saturday evening is Banja time; men and women are split up into pre- and post-dinner groups. The girls have to go first such that the guys can drink vodka in the sauna after dinner. That’s fine with me, at least we get to watch the beautiful sunset, while shock-freezing our overheated bodies in the little lake just outside the banja.

Banja-to-lake is probably the biggest temperature gradient I have been exposed to so far. Heated up with great care by Sergei, the banja awaits us with temperatures well above 100 C, (the record being 110) and just before we reach the boiling point ourselves we throw our tortured bodies into the lake, which had cooled down to 2 C during the last week. After the courageous plunge from the little bridge, my brain seems to turn off for a little moment and then all I can think about, is the quickest way to pull myself back up out of the water. Only Flore who comes from a family of ice-water swimmers keeps her calm. As if she was visiting the local swimming pool, she slowly walks into the lake until she is fully immersed and then swims a peaceful lap around the bridge. All of us have been staring at her in disbelieve and nobody has dared to repeat this act of bravery.

But whichever way we choose to cool down, we all share the experience of perfect calm and peacefulness spreading through our bodies after each cycle of shock-treatment in this beautiful environment.

Btw, in Russian Banja one wears woolen hats to protect head and hair.

After the respective groups are done sweating, everybody gets together in the old station, a small and cozy-looking wooden house that accommodated the researchers before the new, modern station was stomped out of the ground in 2013. Banja night was also our introduction to the fine art of toasting, something we all very much appreciated and will try to bring home with us.

It goes like this:

First somebody, often the person about to toast, makes sure everybody has a full glass. To our great surprise and relieve, any liquid, such as tea or juice will do and we were never forced to drink alcohol.

The order of toasting often follows some kind of hierarchy and since I was supervisor and oldest member of the Swiss expedition I found myself surprising early in the game of stand-up speeches to praise the moment, the good company, or anything else worthy of our appreciation. Improvised public speaking does not come to me easily, but I still enjoy this new custom … especially once my turn is over. It brings everybody around the table together and teaches us appreciation of the common experience. At Samoylov, many toasts evolve around friendship, hope and nature; Downing the entire glass is absolutely not mandatory and in between toast you don’t usually drink, so if you want, a glass of vodka can last you an entire evening. Singing also seems to be an integral part of social events and our polish research team did an amazing job at this. When Greg pulls out the guitar to accompany Agata through sad and happy songs in various languages, all we had to do, was humming along and the arctic was ready to melt.

While most evenings were spent with group meetings, a some personal time and later on with the Aurora Borealis, we also had a few evenings together with everybody else at the station. Just before the end of summer, we had a great evening around a big fire on the beach and baked fresh bread on sticks (to Germans well-known as Stockbrot). Andrei delivered a beautiful end-of-class toast to our group and I tried my best to follow-up with a toast to the transition from student to teacher as we grow up as researchers. Not sure I got my point across since my front was half cooked from the fire and my senses side-tracked from the amazing smell of fresh bread. But it was a heartfelt goodbye from Andrei who left the following morning.

Before the AWI team from Potsdam left, we had an amazingly tasty fish BBQ in the station’s courtyard, the only location that was protected enough to allow for outdoor eating,… anywhere else the fish would have probably turned into Stroganina before we could eat it.

xWaldemar delivering his goodbye and retirement speech; after many years of coordinating the AWI logistics at Samoylov, it is a big goodbye for him.

With everybody gone, and Team-EPFL-alone-at-home for two days, we had a pretty special second weekend at the station: Saturday was Annina’s 23rdbirthday and we were greeted with a delicious-looking birthday cake for breakfast which earned everybody’s approval.

While Nicolas and Xavier carried out the daily CO2 measurements, us girls went out to brave the elements for a run around the island.

It is a beautiful loop, mostly along the beach, but with an interesting section of permafrost related earth-crack-hopping up on the eroding coastline. When we finished the loop at the old station the island dog Sever (Russian for North) came out to deliver his wishes,… he just caught the wrong girl for his birthday kiss. The evening was filled, with many games of Gems, a terrible Swiss card game that I seem to be incapable of mastering. =)

Along with all our other presents, we had brought three pieces of cheese with the best intention to share our culture and make a tasty meal for our follow researchers. Unfortunately, the logistics of Sunday cooking had not worked out as intended during the first week, since we had been out on our overnight excursion. Now the cheese was starting to get old and did not look like it would survive another week. So, we ended up making Chaesspaetzli and Rueblikuchen for an almost empty station, … with us being our only guests =). But I guarantee that we enjoyed it very, very much!!

Replacing Regina our cook in the kitchen was real team work, and it took us over two hours with 6 people to produce the Swiss Sunday Supper:

Fraenzi lead us with great routine through the many steps of Spaetzli-making.

Meanwhile Annina, Flore and Nicolas displayed the most admirable determination to produce a Rueblikuchen. The recipe called for 400g of ground almonds; the kitchen only provided whole almonds and no grinder. But this could not stop team Switzerland! With an iron patience that can only possibly be summoned by a real Swiss or the most team-spirited Frenchman, those three spent an estimated 2 hours on a knife-driven almond chopping mission. In multiple steps they decreased the splinter size, until it qualified for a true Rueblikuchen. Hats up!!

The meal was a great success and all guest were full of compliments =)

Bon appetit!

#SiberianSnowpack #EPFLOutThere

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writewhatyoulove102-blog · 6 years

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Actors in the Community

I was worried that I would not find a place where I felt like I belonged, or where I felt that what I was doing was important. I had so much time in my hands, and I felt like I was wasting it. One day however, I received an email from the theatre department. I was asked to join the production of The Crucible. I was really excited to be engaging in drama once again. The most exciting part was that this was the main stage production. This opportunity was the beginning of my identity and sense of responsibility here in Iowa City.

The director of the play, Doug Scholz-Carlson, decided to add music to the production. He believed that music added to the suspense of the play. I was asked to be part of the music in the show by the stage manager Katy. I love to sing, so this was a perfect chance for me to do both acting and singing on stage. Seven other students and I were casted in an octet. We didn’t have many rehearsals at first, since we had a smaller role. But once the date started creeping up, the only thing on my schedule was rehearsal. It was 4 hours long on the weekdays. On the weekends, it was 10 to 12 hours long on Saturdays and 12 hours long on a Sunday. I spent a lot of time with the cast. As you can imagine, I formed strong ties with them, especially the octet. We shared similar experiences throughout the production of the show. I felt like these were people with whom I could identify.

A typical rehearsal consisted of warming up our voices with the whole cast and singing over the music for about half an hour. After that, some of the actors would go over the violent scenes. They would warm up in these scenes by acting it out in slow motion first. Then, they would rehearse it at full speed, and Doug would always ask the actors if they were comfortable. Doug cared a lot about his actors. He made sure that we all felt safe. Next, we would go over scenes that Doug felt needed more work on. Finally, he would go over notes with the whole cast.

For the octet, we didn’t have much going on until the last week before the show: tech week. Back at my high school, we would call this hell week. Rehearsals became intense. Here at Iowa, we would only have 5 minute breaks every hour. The octet had the most challenging part on stage. We had to sit on stage for the entire run of the show, and we had to stay in character or else we could be a distraction to the audience. We weren’t allowed to be on our phones, or work on any homework. We just sat there and watched the actors go over scenes. Thankfully, Doug began to add more music into the scenes.

The octet would sing underscore while the actors were saying their lines. We had to work together to make sure we were all in harmony. This involved a lot of patience and respect for each other. We all had to do our part and rely on each other to sing the right notes. The music and the lyrics were important because they contributed a lot to the mood of the play. They made the dramatic moments in the show even more suspenseful with the off-key chords being sung in the background. We sang louder as the tension escalated in the scenes. We could make the audience feel overwhelmed with the power of our voices. We had the same effect on the show as creepy music does in horror movies because we worked together.

Sometimes, we would rehearse three hours straight on just one transition that was only twenty seconds long in the show. At first, the amount we spent was ridiculous to me; later on, I realized that it was worth it. The transitions were very powerful moments in the show. It was the time when the whole town was together and telling the story at the same time. It might seem like it’s an overstatement on how long we spent rehearsing these, but it’s true because these scenes were the hardest to nail down. The reason why was because there were thirty bodies on stage that had to be placed in the right spot and cooperate with the rest of the cast. The transitions had to be smooth and engaging, which was the final result after all the hard work. This was where I felt the most sense of community that I was searching for here in Iowa. We all had to work together and actually be a community on stage.

This community had many different interests off the stage. I learned a lot about the people in my cast. One of the members in the octet named Anny said, “this is not my area of specialty, but I still want to contribute my voice to it.” Another friend named Matt said, “I love theatre. I’m so happy to be in this show as a freshman, and I hope to one day make my career out of this.” I’m an English major, but I love acting in general. I’ve also been in chorus since fifth grade, and singing has been a passion of mine since I was a little girl. Although the cast had a variety of interests, we all came together for one: the love for entertaining.

This passion for entertaining became the strongest when the massacre in Las Vegas occurred. We were going over a scene when Doug paused rehearsal and said that he needed to talk to us. He told us what had just happened, and then he gave an empowering speech that I won’t ever forget. He said, “We as actors may feel that our job is of very little importance, but we must continue to act and bring the community together through entertainment.” By doing this, we can work towards making the world a place that we want to live in. At that moment, I realized what our purpose was, and what it really meant to be an actor.

I felt a sense of community with my cast. Now, it was our job to provide that same sense to the other people in Iowa City. Through The Crucible production, we brought the Iowan community together and allowed them to escape their worries and dissipate the boundaries that keep people apart. We allowed a chance for the audience to engage in an experience together and feel harmony between each other, even if it was only for a couple of hours.

If the show was done effectively, it would spread a message to the outside world. Eric Stone, the scenic designer, brilliantly said, “The Crucible is performed in certain time periods when its message needs to be heard…that time is now.” The message of this play digresses from the narrative of my essay, but what’s important to take from this, is that plays not only bring people together, but also encourage change in society to make it a better place.

On stage was where my responsibility here in Iowa City began. One message that I learned from rehearsing the play as well as performing in it is that it’s important to take care of each other. The cast, especially, had to execute this on Sunday, the weekend of our first round of shows. Shannon, our main singer, got a fever the night before. She came in twenty minutes before the show started, in tears. She told us her situation, and the whole cast had to work together to cope with the circumstance. We cut out most of the music for the show that day. The important parts were sung by other cast members that sung in Shannon’s voice part. The actors had to improvise a little more, due to the lack of music. Now, we could’ve reacted in one of two ways. We could’ve gotten mad at Shannon and blamed her for not being reliable. We could’ve forced her to try and sing anyways. Instead, we forgave her and made sure that she took care of her voice. We all gave her a big hug and told her that everything was going to be okay. During the performance, she almost fainted, and we encouraged her to go home and rest. The cast made sure to take care of any parts that Shannon was in charge of on stage. We had some upperclassmen fill in for her voice parts as well as some people in the octet. I helped move her props around on stage. We were able to cover all her roles.

This was one of many instances when the cast had to look out for one another. I used this message of the importance of taking care of each other, in my life outside of theatre. One day, I saw a homeless man sitting on one of the park benches in the downtown area in Iowa City. I stopped for a few seconds to talk to him and gave him some change that I had in my backpack. I wanted him to know that there were people that cared about him.

Being in the production of The Crucible was a great experience for me. I found a group of people that I knew I could rely on, and where I felt a sense of identity in this huge city. I also discovered my responsibility here. That responsibility is to encourage people to take care of each other. The production of The Crucible brought the people of Iowa City together, and not only were we actors on stage, but we are also active actors in the community.

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alexanderdroznin · 7 years

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Day 3: Thursday, June 22, 2017 (Ramadan 27). The life of N.

The group begins the day with a bittersweet piece of news: after having worked in Alexandreia for the last two weeks, E. S. will be working her last full day today before she returns home to Latvia. Going off of her experiences at the camp, she is planning to continue working with children in need, focusing especially on education. So that everyone has a chance to properly say goodbye, the volunteers plan to have a group dinner in the evening at one of the local restaurants.

In the morning, A. B. and A. D. operate the shop, with occasional help from M. O. (who, since A. R. is away at an NGO meeting, is managing the kitchen and warehouse teams as well). It is a quiet shift, but the volunteers are kept company by a familiar face. N. is a 9-year-old Syrian boy with a gregarious personality, a penchant for lighthearted mischief, and a solid command of English. Whenever the shop is open, he enjoys being around the volunteers, and the volunteers appreciate that he can translate for non-English-speaking residents. He has a habit of pestering the volunteers for their phones, and they usually oblige him - he enjoys taking selfies and playing games when it is too hot to play outside. N. is a very considerate child: once, when his grandmother came in to shop for the family and had exceeded their allotted point total, he - without being prompted - returned the chocolate cookies that his grandmother had picked out specifically for him, and retrieved a can of corn to be used in a meal for the whole family.

N. has an unorthodox living situation. Like some other residents, he lives in a house consisting of two adjacent units to accommodate a family of more than 5 people. However, his family isn’t large in the sense of him having a lot of siblings - rather, his father has two wives, and a family with each of them. N.’s mother is the first wife, and between the two women N. has close to a dozen siblings and half-siblings. Because none of the volunteers come from countries where polygyny is legal, they are curious about this arrangement. A. A. explains as best he can: polygyny is allowed under Islamic law as long as a husband treats his wives equally, and although it is legal in Syria, it has been discouraged since the 1950s. He says that most of the Syrian residents understand and accept it, but the Kurds find it strange.

A. A. confirms rumors about N.’s father that have been circulating among the volunteers over the last few days. The man has frequently been referred to as “the most dangerous man at the camp” because of his proclivity for violence, especially of the domestic type. N.’s mother and N. himself bear the physical marks of this violence. Although at first glance N. appears to be physically fine - he runs around and plays with the other boys without issue - he has a lame left arm. It often causes him to wince, and he cradles it with his other arm when it causes him pain. After an incident a few weeks earlier, the local police were called and N.’s father was formally cautioned. Yet when he comes to the shop, he is the picture of congeniality towards N. and the volunteers.

N. receives care from a social worker and the onsite medical team. S. D., who has recently graduated with a degree in social work and has experience working with traumatized children, believes that N.’s case will remain unresolved if he cannot be separated from the source of his trauma. N. is beloved by the volunteers, but they recognize that their efforts to give him a safe space to play in during the day might be undone as soon as he gets home. Over dinner, S. D. admits that foster care for a refugee child is a terrifying prospect.

N.’s command of English isn’t limited to speech - he enjoys singing as well, and having recently watched Frozen, “Let It Go” has become his signature song. He knows several other songs, too, but doesn’t always remember the right lyrics. In those cases, he proves himself to be a talented improviser, which is especially impressive given that English is not his first language.

With A. B., A. D., and M. O. looking on in the shop, N. breaks into a rendition of the alphabet song. He gets as far as “L-M-N-O-P” and pauses, then repeats, still smiling: “L-M-N-O-P / Please, my father and his friends, don’t beat me.” With that, N. skips out of the shop as the volunteers exchange horrified looks.

The shop becomes even quieter after N.’s departure, and since some children have gathered outside, M. O. suggests that the team brainstorm ideas for children’s activities. She proposes making a tri-string bubble wand for blowing giant bubbles, and over the next hour, the group gathers inspiration from YouTube and experiments with different bubble solutions and types of string. While some progress is made, the project repeatedly runs into the same issues: either the string becomes tangled, or the bubbles burst too quickly. Realizing that they don’t have the right ingredients to make a robust bubble solution, the team decides to break for lunch.

The topic of conversation at lunch is N.’s song, and the nature of childhood trauma. It is apparent that some of the volunteers are heartbroken.

In the afternoon, A. B., A. D., M. O., and T. B. join A. A. and O. A. in the kitchen. Later on, after finishing up early in the shop, B. C. and S. D. join the group as well. They prepare the usual stew and Arab salad, but in addition to that, A. A. has them put together an experimental dish - curried lemon rice - that he hopes to incorporate into the regular menu. Upon being tasted, it garners unanimous praise from the volunteers.

After the service is finished - today, Y. and his brother J. have volunteered to distribute the containers of food around the camp - the group settles into cleaning. O. A. relaxes on a chair in the corner - today is his last day at the camp, he announces, as he has received a positive resettlement decision from Spain. The room erupts in cheers, and there is a jovial mood throughout the remainder of the shift. A. A. and O. A. put on their favorite Arabic music, which - after several attempts - the volunteers learn to sing along to.

O. A. receives a call from E. S. (a different E. S. from the volunteer), another resident in his mid-20s who used to help run the kitchen operation with A. A. and O. A. He has been absent from the camp for the last few days, having set up in Thessaloniki in preparation for an illegal departure from Greece. A. A. confirms that E. S. has acquired false documentation in the city. He and O. A. try to discourage their friend from going through with his plan - walking into the Thessaloniki airport and booking a flight to Barcelona - because of the risks it poses to his official refugee status, but E. S. is desperate to leave.

Over the phone, E. S. repeatedly asks about M. O., who becomes noticeably uncomfortable. According to the camp’s and RS’s own policies, relationships between residents and volunteers are not allowed. The consequences of not following this rule can include the volunteer being sent home, the resident losing priority in the resettlement process, or even the NGO being kicked out of the camp. E. S. has been persistently pursuing M. O. for the past few weeks, but because of these potential consequences, no one wants to get the camp authorities or J. S. involved. With everyone present in the kitchen around this phone conversation, E. S. asks O. A. to tell M. O. that he’d like to marry her and have her join him in Spain.

A. A. believes that E. S. is mentally ill. He says that if E. S.’s plan to leave the country doesn’t work, and he ends up returning to the camp, he will point out the shrapnel wounds on E. S.’s head and neck. According to him, E. S. had survived a bombing in the early phase of the war in Syria.

After the volunteers close up the kitchen and say their goodbyes to O. A., wishing him luck in Spain, a dog comes up to the group. This is Lucy - she is an older brown-beige hound, but still quite playful. It is unclear whether Lucy lives exclusively at the camp, but the residents leave her food and water, and the children enjoying playing with her. As the RS car pulls out of the camp, with its passengers prepared to say goodbye to one of their own later that evening, O. A. calls to Lucy in Greek - “Ela! Ela!” (”Come! Come!”) - and she obeys, trotting behind him and A. A. as they head home.

So it is in Alexandreia, on the 27th day of Ramadan.

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princelestatdelioncourt · 3 years

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Character Name

Lelio (DiCraprio)

Status

Lover, usually the son of either Pantalone or Dottre.

High in stature, but usually brought low by the hopelessness of their infatuation. - Rudlin

Member of Innamorati – Rudlin

Costume

The latest fashion. Males sometimes dressed as young soldiers or cadets. -Rudlin

Flowing and somewhat over fashionable in a color scheme that is very feminine with a great deal of panache. – Tim Shane

Gentry-class dress, nice looking, modest, cute. Usually with a heart motif -Little

Origin (History)

Physical Appearance

Had to be young, well set up, courteous, gallant even to the point of affectation - in short, a blade and a dandy. - Duchartre

Young and attractive – Rudlin

The lovers and wooers of the Commedia dell'arte were always dapper and engaging and just a trifle ridiculous. - Duchartre

Mask

Occasionally wore a mask that just covered eyes or a loop mask. - Laver

Signature Props

Handkerchief. -Rudlin

Stance

Legs tightly together, usually with only one foot firmly planted on the ground, and the other crawling upward like he has to urinate badly. The groin is usually inward and protected with the upper torso bent over it. – Tim Shane

Walk

Light, fluttering on tip toes, arms extended with wrists loose allowing the hands to flap like wings.- Tim Shane

Poses

1.) On toes in various ballet positions with wrists bent down.

2.) Anything that might look Vogue.

3.) Whenever sitting, legs crossed in a feminine manner. Head always sits very delicately on the frame of the body.

4.) Never stand up right, always with a hip cocked out to expresses “attitude”.

5.) Mimic poses of female lovers

6.) Back of hand against forehead, other arm outstretched.

Movements

Light and fluttery. – Tim Shane

Gestures

Foppish- Tim Shane

Speech

Language: Tuscan, making great display of courtly words and baroque metaphors. Well read, knowing large extracts of poems by heart (especially Petrarch). They speak softly in musical sentences - in contrast with the zanni. Their sentences are often flamboyant, hyperbolical, full of amorous rhetoric. By the end of the 17th Century in Paris, the Lovers spoke French. - Rudlin

Light and every sentence is like a sigh, adding occassional sighs in between words and speaking in crescendos and decrescendos. – Shane

Animal

Butterfly.

Relationships

When it comes to women, his words are the only thing that shows that he might have any interest. His body language, actions, tone, all contradict any infatuation he may have with a female. The only reason why he would express an interest in a female is because he loves the idea of love. However he seems genuinely more in love with himself and other male characters before he is in love with a woman. – Shane

They [the lovers] relate exclusively to themselves - they are in love with themselves being in love. The last person they actually relate to in the course of the action is often the beloved. When they do meet they have great difficulty in communicating with each other (usually because of the nerves). And they relate to their servants only in terms of pleading for help. The Lovers love each other, yet are more preoccupied with being seen as lovers, undergoing all the hardships of being in such a plight, than with actual fulfilment. Consequently they frequently scorn each other and feign mild hatred; they rebut, despair, reconcile, but eventually end up marrying in the way of true love when the game is up and they know they cannot play any more. After a quarrel the male may try a serenade to win back favour. This will be (dis)organized by Zanni: he employs musicians who are drunk or spends the money on something else and has tu use tramps off the street. The result is total chaos, but in the end the serenade is beautifully played and sung because everyone miraculously turns out to be good at their job after all. - Rudlin

Relationship to Audience

Extremely aware of being watched. Play with the audience for sympathy in their plight. Occasionally flirts with spectators. -Rudlin

Frequent Plot Function

Their function was to depict a state of mind rather than to paint a personality. - Duchartre

Characteristics

Whatever the names of the lovers in the commedia dell'arte, they had no other trait as 'characters' than that of being in love. - Duchartre

The lover had to play with dash and be able to simulate the most exaggerated passion. - Duchartre

Shakespeare

Lazzi

1.) Very afraid of women, and fears them as if they are monsters that want to rip him apart.

2.) Hypochondriac, feigning illness whenever possible.

3.) Very sensitive and is reduced to tears with the slightest stimulus or agitation.

4.) Likes to get lost in his thoughts and drop off into long soliloquies of rhyming poetry until silenced or knocked unconscious.

5.) Anything gay (as in happy).

6.) Talks with his handkerchief, occasionally making a scene out of picking it back up again.

7.) Being deafly afraid of women’s cleavage.

8.) Accepting a compliment and then adding to it and polishing it himself.

#commedia dell'arte #lelio #lestat de lioncourt #//does not some of these specifications reminds you of Lestats characteristics and attitude?#//wondering if Lestat is still Lelio after all this time

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