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devildomwriter · 5 months

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Their Favorite Christmas Songs

Lucifer (Anything on the nutcracker soundtrack)

Timeless classics like the nutcracker music is what Lucifer loves most. He knows each scene of the ballet by heart and when he hears the song he’ll tell you exactly what’s happening in that chord.

Mammon (12 days of Christmas)

It’s super easy to memorize and he likes to fantasize about getting so many gifts like that. It drives Lucifer mad.

Leviathan (Winter Bells)

Only the Detective Conan anime can have a Christmas song he loves so much. He’s heard every version and often has it on repeat.

Satan (Anything by the jingle cats)

The jingle cats was the greatness gift you could’ve given Satan and simultaneously everyone else’s nightmare. It’s an absolutely adorable rendition of each Christmas song with the words replaced by variations of adorable meows.

Asmodeus (Santa baby)

So relatable. All he wants is everything he deserves and a ring from you of course. He thinks the music is a little sultry and it makes him want to seduce you.

Beelzebub (Rudolph the red nose reindeer)

He’s so happy that poor little Rudolph is now happy with his friends. Mammon isn’t allowed to mention how messed up it actually is because no one wants to see Beelzebub saddened by it. Beelzebub also kind of relates to Rudolph. Back in the Celestial Realm he was often made of for nothing being able to control his powers until Lucifer saw his potential and helped him become someone equal to those who originally looked down on him.

Belphegor (I’ll be home for Christmas)

It’s nice and slow, a good song to relax to and dream of you. He can’t wait for you to visit for Christmas especially for him.

Solomon (We Three Kings)

Although biblically inaccurate because the king’s weren’t by Jesus’s side until much later, Solomon enjoys it because he was one of the many (not just three) kings in disguise and it reminds him of the good old days.

Thirteen (Jingle Bell Rock)

It’s nice and upbeat and makes her wanna dance although she won’t do so in front of everyone except maybe you but only if you’ll dance with her.

Simeon (Hark!)

A classic, it reminds him of earlier days in the Celestial Realm when he and all the brothers would sing glorious praise to his father. It also of course reminds him of the present in which he worships with Raphael, Michael and Luke and hopefully one day with you.

Luke (Silent Night)

He loves it. It’s nice and soft and easy for him to sing. He loves holy Christmas music of course and listens to it before bed every night.

Raphael (O Holy Night)

Raphael enjoys singing this song most, to himself and willingly to others. It reminds him of the night of his father’s miracle. He thinks it’s a lovely song humans made that so accurately describes his feelings.

Michael (God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen)

He loves this song most out of the song praising his father. He also chuckles to himself when he hears Satan’s name because he can just imagine Lucifer and Satan being annoyed about it. Plus any reminder of the brothers brings him some semblance of bittersweet memories.

Mephistopheles

None of them. He does not want anything to do with Christmas even the songs that curse it’s name. There are some more tolerable than others but the only ones he can slightly tolerate are winter themed and not Christmas specific.

Barbatos

Nothing in particular. He hears them so often because of Diavolo loves them. If he had to choose he’s pick something instrumental like nutcracker songs or Mannheim Steamroller.

Diavolo (Dominic the Donkey)

Listen this song cracks him up so bad you can hear his back-breaking laughter from the House of Lamentation. The song drowns out Diavolo’s worries and Lucifer and Barbatos’s distressed sighs and mumbles of complaint.

#obey me headcanons #obey me diavolo #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me barbatos #obey me mephistopheles #obey me Michael #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me raphael #obey me solomon #obey me thirteen #obey me 25 days of christmas #25 days of obey me christmas

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princesssarisa · 9 months

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Non-English "Cinderella" adaptations that might have influenced Disney's 2015 live action remake

Rossini's La Cenerentola (Italian opera, 1817). In the opera, the king has died, and the prince's search for a bride is motivated by his pending coronation. (The 2010 German Märchenperlen version also makes this choice.) In the 2015 film, the king is mortally ill, and later dies after the ball. Thus the opera's Cinderella and her 2015 counterpart both ascend straight to the throne in the end. Also, the opera's "fairy godfather" Alidoro disguises himself as a beggar and rewards Cinderella for treating him kindly, just as the 2015 Fairy Godmother does. (Although the Fairy Godmother also does this in Prokofiev's famous ballet.) The opera's Prince Ramiro also has a constant male companion, his valet Dandini, much like 2015's Kit has the Captain of the Guard (although many versions of Cinderella's prince have similar companions). Last but not least, both princes disguise themselves as a servant at some point: Ramiro switches clothes with Dandini for the ball to observe the true characters of the ladies, while Kit disguises himself as a guard to secretly observe the slipper-fitting.

Three Nuts (or Three Wishes) for Cinderella (Czech/German, 1973). In both this version and the 2015 film, Cinderella steals a few moments of freedom by riding her horse into the forest, and there she meets the prince on a hunt and stops him from shooting a deer. (Although in the 1973 film she throws a snowball at him, he chases her, and they taunt each other, while in the 2015 version they share a philosophical discussion about kindness and tell each other a little about their lives.) Both of these versions also hark back to the Grimms' tale early on, with Cinderella's father figure (the manservant Vincek in 1973, her actual father in 2015) going on a journey, and Cinderella asking for the first branch that hits his nose (1973) or brushes his shoulder (2015) as a gift. (In 1973 the branch contains the three magic hazelnuts that take the place of the Fairy Godmother in this version, while in 2015 it doesn't serve the plot, but is poignantly brought to her by the messenger who breaks the news of her father's death.)

Sechs auf einen Strech ("Six at one Blow"): Aschenputtel ("Cinderella") (German, 2011). Cinderella repeats a mantra that she learned from her mother: "You must never lose courage." In the 2015 film, she has a similar mantra, also from her mother: "Have courage and be kind." She also first meets the prince while he's hunting in the woods in this version, and the end sees them about to become king and queen, though in this case the old king is still alive, he just chooses to retire.

Zolushka (Russian, 1947). Cinderella has blonde hair, which she wears in fluffy shoulder-length curls at the ball, while the prince has wavy chestnut brown hair. (These could be coincidences, though.) The Fairy Godmother first appears as a humbly dressed old woman (although not as a beggar in 1947), then reveals her true, magical and glamorous form. The prince is also portrayed with boyish vulnerability as well as with courtly charm, and he even cries in one scene. (The '47 prince in the woods when he thinks he's lost Cinderella forever, 2015's Kit at his father's deathbed.)

When I posted my review of the 2015 film, @ariel-seagull-wings noticed the parallels with the 1947 Russian version. She suggested that Kenneth Branagh might have been influenced by that version, since British viewers are more likely than Americans to see the adaptations from continental Europe. The more I think about it, the more I realize that Branagh and the 2015 screenwriter Chris Weitz might have been influenced by more than one European Cinderella.

#cinderella #fairy tale #adaptations #parallels #2015 #cinderella 2015 #disney #zolushka #1947 #tri orisky pro popelku #three wishes for cinderella #1973 #opera #la cenerentola #1817 #sechs auf einen streich #2011

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bucktommys · 1 year

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do you have any fic recs that are like sports au’s? i love those 🥺

i do indeed!!

steppin' into fate by @onward--upward - hockey fic of all time??? SO good, and SO much fun. i have this one downloaded on my kindle so i can take it on long train and coach journeys. enemies/rivals to lovers hockey au, what more could you want!!!

hardest hit from feather's kiss by @princessfbi - princessfbi i am your BIGGEST fan. this one is ballet dancer buck/hockey player eddie and soooo good its like a comfort reread for me

love's not a game by @thatbuddie - hockey rivals to lovers smut fic. like what else do i even have to say, go and read it

battle born by @homerforsure - buddie hockey au!!! whumpy, established relationship (what more could you want??), and sooooooo good god!! i am realising that there is a hockey theme in this fandom but u do not hear me complaining because guaranteed i have read each one probably four times each

two minutes for roughing by ok_thanks - another hockey au ofc. the found family in this one pops OFF its so good

dance for all that we've been through by @catchingpapermoons -this is my monthly hark of this fic. ik when you said sports aus you probably meant like hockey and soccer but ballet is a sport and also i will take any excuse to bring up this fic. SO GOOD

college au series by bisexualbuckley - im counting this as a sports au because buck is a football player even if theyre both in college. is what it says on the tin, a college au, but its SO sweet would absolutely recommend

buck's bakes at christmas by @mansikkaomenabanaani - this one is a locked work so you will need an account to read it but I HIGHLY SUGGEST U GET ONE because its sooo sweet. buck is a baker and eddie is a hockey player and it happens at christmas and reading this fic is like the equivalent of drinking a big hot chocolate in the winter its so soft

#ask #anonymous #fic rec #fic rec list #god scrolling through my history to find these was SO revealing i think i need to reread them all

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cyberpunkonline · 6 months

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Cyberspace Sentinels: Tracing the Evolution and Eccentricities of ICE

As we hark back to the embryonic stages of cyber defense in the late 1990s, we find ourselves in a digital petri dish where the first firewalls and antivirus programs are mere amoebas against a sea of threats. The digital defenses of yore, much like the drawbridges and moats of medieval castles, have transformed into a labyrinth of algorithms and machine learning guards in today's complex cybersecurity ecosystem. The sophistication of these systems isn't just technical; it's theatrical.

The drama unfolds spectacularly in the cyberpunk genre, where Intrusion Countermeasures Electronics (ICE) are the dramatis personae. Let's peruse the virtual halls of cyberpunk media to encounter the most deadly, and delightfully weird, iterations of ICE, juxtaposing these fictional behemoths against their real-world counterparts.

We commence our odyssey with William Gibson’s "Neuromancer," where ICE is not only a barrier but a perilous landscape that can zap a hacker's consciousness into oblivion. Gibson gives us Black ICE, a lethal barrier to data larceny that kills the intruding hacker, a grim forerunner to what cybersecurity could become in an age where the stakes are life itself.

CD Projekt Red’s "Cyberpunk 2077" gives us Daemons, digital Cerberuses that gnash and claw at Netrunners with malevolent intent. They symbolize a cyber-Orwellian universe where every keystroke could be a pact with a digital devil.

The chromatic haze of "Ghost in the Shell" offers ICE that intertwines with human cognition, reflecting a reality where software not only defends data but the very sanctity of the human mind.

In Neal Stephenson’s "Snow Crash," the Metaverse is patrolled by ICE that manifests as avatars capable of digital murder. Stephenson's vision is a reminder that in the realm of bytes and bits, the avatar can be as powerful as the sword.

"Matrix" trilogy, portrays ICE as Sentinels — merciless machines tasked with hunting down and eliminating threats, a silicon-carbon ballet of predator and prey.

On the small screen, "Mr. Robot" presents a more realistic tableau — a world where cybersecurity forms the battleground for societal control, with defense systems mirroring modern malware detection and intrusion prevention technologies.

"Ready Player One," both the novel and Spielberg's visual feast, portrays IOI’s Oology Division as a form of corporate ICE, relentless in its pursuit of control over the Oasis, guarding against external threats with a militaristic zeal that mirrors today's corporate cybersecurity brigades.

And let’s not overlook the anarchic "Watch Dogs" game series, where ICE stands as a silent sentinel against a protagonist who uses the city’s own connected infrastructure to bypass and dismantle such defenses.

Now, let us tether these fictional marvels to our reality. Today’s cybersecurity does not slumber; it's embodied in the form of next-gen firewalls, intrusion prevention systems, and advanced endpoint security solutions. They may not be as visceral as the ICE of cyberpunk, but they are no less sophisticated. Consider the deep packet inspection and AI-based behavioral analytics that cast an invisible, ever-watchful eye over our digital comings and goings.

Nevertheless, the reality is less bloodthirsty. Real-world cyber defense systems, as advanced as they may be, do not threaten the physical well-being of attackers. Instead, they stealthily snare and quarantine threats, perhaps leaving cybercriminals pining for the days of simple antivirus skirmishes.

But as the cyberverse stretches its tendrils further into the tangible world, the divide between the fantastical ICE of cyberpunk and the silicon-hardened guardians of our networks grows thin. With the Internet of Things (IoT) binding the digital to the physical, the kinetic potential of cybersecurity threats — and therefore the need for increasingly aggressive countermeasures — becomes apparent.

Could the ICE of tomorrow cross the Rubicon, protecting not just data, but physical well-being, through force if necessary? It is conceivable. As cyberpunk media illustrates, ICE could morph from passive digital barricades into active defenders, perhaps not with the murderous flair of its fictional counterparts but with a potency that dissuades through fear of tangible repercussions.

In the taut narrative of cybersecurity’s evolution, ICE remains the enigmatic, omnipresent sentinel, an avatar of our collective desire for safety amidst the binary storm. And while our reality may not yet feature the neon-drenched drama of cyberpunk's lethal ICE, the premise lingers on the periphery of possibility — a silent admonition that as our digital and physical realms converge, so too might our defenses need to wield a fiercer bite. Will the cyberpunk dream of ICE as a dire protector manifest in our world? Time, the grand weaver of fate, shall unfurl the tapestry for us to see.

- Raz

#cyberpunk #cyberspace #ice

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the-cricket-chirps · 4 months

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Jack Mitchell

Nude portrait study of Harkness Ballet dancer Zane Wilson

1972

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romanceyourdemons · 11 months

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shout out to king hu for real. literally revolutionizing the style of wuxia film by hiring actors trained in ballet and peking opera rather than those with only martial arts training, AND centering all his films around genuinely strongly written female characters whose desires and conflicts are at least as and frequently more significant to the plot than those of the male characters. chang cheh could never. tsui hark could NEVER

#also why’s the tags box little now what’s up with that #ryddles

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annalrk · 3 months

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harking back to this post i made about imagine make-up artist (aka cosmetic paradise meiku no kiseki), i've discovered more hidden gems hidden in the depths of ubisoft's localization treatment.

all under the cut!

ofc there's still cosmetic paradise meiku no kiseki, or コスメちっくパラダイス～メイクのキセキ～. absolustely wild the changes this game got, the major ones are listed in that post i linked but wanted to share the different covers here

and now we have ballet star (aka princess ballerina or プリンセスバレリーナ　夢みる4人のプリマドンナ) which i haven't gone too far into but it's real good so far, def deserved more than the imagine series treatment.

also judging from the second photoset i found they just Delete one of the girls (they like deleting someone when there's 4 of them it seems lmao). i need to play more and do more research in all the changes but that seems to be the main thing so far.

and finally the last game i wanna mention in detail is petz vet (aka himawari doubutsu byouin, or ひまわりどうぶつ病院)! i started playing it today and it's really interesting, having 11 endings in total and a set story to follow (similar to the cosmetic paradise series but with vet work instead of make-up work)

thankfully this one didn't get too many changes! just westernized names and one of the minigames being made easier (which i can't blame them tbh). they even kept that one of the guys moved from another country and speaks the game's language roughly!

i'm excited to finish it, and possibly play again.

also please look at this dog in the game. peak dog. named her tama.

#imagine make-up artist #imagine ballet star #petz vet #cosmetic paradise #himawari doubutsu byouin #princess ballerina #long post #my post #my ramble #i'm making a list of all the games ubisoft localized and put under their brand names for publishing #up to 7 but there is more still #part of me wanting to learn japanese is to play these games as originally intended #at least for the ones that got messed up pretty severely

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swanlake1998 · 1 year

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I've noticed you have some photos from Harkness in the 60s, you even have one of Miyoko Kato, the first professional japanese born ballet dancer in america. Miyoko Kato Thomas was my ballet teacher until her degenerative muscle disease forced her to give up dance all together a few years ago. Miyoko Kato Thomas passed away thursday, two days before the Robert Thomas Nutcracker. If you have anymore pictures of her i'm sure her husband, co-workers, students, and friends would appreciate them very much. She was such an amazing woman and we all miss her very much.

rip miyoko kato

(i will definitely post more photos of the late miyoko kato)

#miyoko kato #ask #mayellakyle

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more-than-a-princess · 1 year

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HARK!

May the heralds sing and the bells ring. Or whatever it is that happens on Valentine's.

Cupid himself has descended upon Boudry House.

Dogged by his faithful sidekick(??) (no assistant is ever paid enough) the dubiously dressed god of DOKI DOKI AHHHN skips through the building. Loosing his sucker-tipped arrows tied with strawberry candies unto his unsuspecting but doting followers and fans.

"May you find love, appreciation, and soundproof walls tonight." He bequeaths his wisdom before spiriting away.

And yes, that faithful sidekick does go and apologize to each victim person, before rushing to catch up with the beloved god.

But it's only so long before they lose track of the god. Too spritely. Too energetic. Too fucking clever. Where did he go? What was his plan? Alas. It would remain a mystery to all.

All but one.

For not long after eluding pursuit does our devilishly handsome and attractive Cupid find just the loneliest and the saddest looking maiden he's ever seen! Upon bursting into her chambers he gasps in horror.

"Clearly. Just one of my arrows won't be enough for you, fair beautiful sexy minx of a maiden." He declares. A flamboyant toss of the repurposed nerf bow along with the remaining arrows and their sugary payloads. They clatter and clang on the floor as he struts inside like ballet dancer. Fluttered steps before sweeping the wailing and bereaved maiden off her feet. Expression of longing and pity to be shared with her.

"I have no choice. I will have to use something else. After I make you my personal Valentine." Finger to her lips! "Hush! Do not be modest my lady. It is you who is being humbled and I will find the apologies for that later. I also got you chocolate. But this is more fun."

(Chocolate is mentioned so this banner still counts!)

"And that is why, Your Royal Highness, the benefits of assisted suicide to elderly and aging populations will prove to be a more ethical and humane way to cease suffering than the current medical laws in place," One of the two men was, Sonia hoped, working to conclude the presentation that afternoon. February 14 was not a holiday for exchanging chocolates or planning an elaborate gift, at least for Novosonian royals. It was a workday, like any other weekday (and frankly, plenty of weekends too). "Without such plans in place, it puts elderly, aging, and otherwise mentally ill patients at risk for self-injury and prolonged pain, of both physical and mental varieties."

Sonia nodded, though she was doing her best to muster a smile that wasn't quite as grim as the topic at hand and the emotion in her heart from considering such things. Her personal secretary, Cecily, and her first assistant were keeping it together far more admirably: Cecily had looked after Sonia for the past ten years and all of the Princess's assistants had been thoroughly screened and hired by her. Little seemed to faze the woman, if her composed expression behind silver-rimmed glasses was any indication.

"Yes," Sonia sighed, frowning. It was a horrid thing to consider, on Valentine's Day of all days: aging, dying alone, with a broken heart or mind or perhaps both. Certainly it wasn't reserved only for elderly populations either, which begged further question: which was worse, debilitating conditions whilst young and finding assisted suicide the kindest way to subdue the pain, or living a full life before finding one's self lonely, deteriorating, and frightened, with certain death providing the only possible relief? "I shall be sure to review the figures, testimonials, and plans you have been so kind to bestow upon me, Gentlemen, and AHH!-"

But she hadn't been given a chance to continue. A scuffle outside the door to her formal office, followed by several squeals of laughter and shock alike, had caught the attention of everyone in the room even before Wylan and his assistant burst through the door, the latter looking at Cecily and Sonia with an apologetic expression. He was the fifth (or was it sixth?) personal assistant that had gone through the Wylan Rectur Ringer (or so the staff had come to call it), and if Sonia remembered correctly, it was only his second month on the job. Hardly enough time to become acquainted with his new charge and his many excellent qualities.

Well, Sonia thought they were excellent, but then again, she was the only one in the room smiling at Wylan's grandiose entrance. The two men she'd agreed to meet with that afternoon were now both slack-jawed, stunned at the display before them. Sonia's assistant had paused, mid-scribble on her tablet, glancing from the audio recording device on the table to her usually stern-faced boss, panic written all over her face. And Cecily could only stare in horror and mutter, breaking the silence. "He's insane," She hissed, her chestnut bob shaking in shock, or rage, or perhaps both that neither a strawberry candy or a triple espresso could cure. "The man is completely and utterly insane."

Sonia's guests seemed to agree, opening their mouths to question why an American draped in white fabric brandishing toys and candy had found it fit to interrupt a scheduled meeting with the Princess of Novoselic. Possibly to offer services in evaluating the mental state of the rumored lover of the future queen.

"That will be all for today, thank you," Sonia announced, loud enough for the entire room to hear her cheerful, yet firm, tone. "As I mentioned, I shall take this under advisement and present it to the Royal Council soon." She'd needed a moment to remember herself: that she wasn't just a woman in love with someone who never failed to put a smile on her face, but that she was a princess with real responsibilities. Real decisions that affected the lives of millions.

Which was, admittedly, a challenge at present: she likely appeared ineffective as a royal, her arms wrapped around Wylan's neck as he carried her bridal-style, Sonia all the while shifting her lower half in order to keep her pale pink dress down and decently arranged. But as someone in love, quite content with the change of plan.

"I'll escort you out," Cecily quickly chimed in, prompting the rest of the room towards the door while demanding the assistant shut off and remove the recording device as quickly as possible, for all of their sakes. Sonia grinned, the door closing firmly behind the group, leaving the two of them alone.

"Well, now that members of the board of public health have heard that their Princess is known as a 'sexy minx of a maiden,' Happy Valentine's Day!" She laughed, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. It had become common between them now, Sonia stealing kisses from Wylan here and there. Some as long and passionate as the ones in Las Vegas and Paris had been, others quick and teasing. But the key was surprise, though he seemed to have won on that front that day. "But I rather prefer this to chocolate, and you know how much I like good chocolate."

She had to emphasize the good adjective. Otherwise, it could result in the likes of Hershey's or Swiss Miss (though she'd been assured that there were worse American chocolates than those, which was almost as horrifying as discussing suicide on Valentine's Day). "I wonder what technique you intend to use to make me, as you say, your personal valentine," She teased, her gaze glancing down pointedly before looking back into his eyes. "But I've got chocolate for you too. I can't give up some of the Japanese traditions, and dinner planned as well."

"Though, if I had the opportunity..." She continued, dropping another kiss onto his cheek, "I'd whisk you away to somewhere warm and tropical for an extended holiday. I'm getting rather tired of Novosonian winters and ski weekends. There would even be those elaborate drinks served in coconuts, and then-"

Sonia stopped herself there, as she ran a hand over his bare shoulder, and beneath the white fabric that barely covered part of the other side. "Wylan," She began, trying to restrain her giggles to no avail, "Are you wearing one of the Egyptian cotton bedsheets?"

#more-than-a-princess answered #cadcnce #Non-Despair AU: The Princess of Novoselic #(Valentine's Day Choco 2023)#(Look at them they're being cute and gross)#(Everyone encourages them to get a room: forgets to request they get one that's soundproofed)#(Regrets will be had by everyone)#(Only Wylan is allowed to interrupt a meeting dressed as cupid and get away with it)#(Let's pour one out for the Boudry House staff who has to put up with him)#(Meanwhile Sonia's just 'Oh the man I love is saving me from the most depressing topics today!')#('I must give him the array of chocolates I've selected for him')

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aparticularbandit · 2 years

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Agathian Backstory Pt. 1

SO TRIGGER TAGS 101.

Agatha has an eating disorder. This is heavily implied but not outright stated.

If you’ve been reading other stuff, you know that Cian is nonbinary and uses they/them pronouns. Agatha does not know this yet (neither does Evanora) and so refers to Cian as a woman with she/her pronouns throughout.

Agatha is seventeen here. I assure you ahead of time, nothing happens until she is older (at least a couple years ish), but I want you to know that now so you don’t have to worry about that. I don’t write that stuff.

SO. PART ONE. WOO?

When she was seventeen years old, Agatha Harkness, trained from near infancy by former prima ballerina Evanora Harkness, who had retired in her prime to give birth to said only remaining daughter, auditioned for multiple ballet companies across the nation.

It was impossible to determine from the outside if her desire was for herself or something grown through the needs of her mother. Her technical prowess was immaculate; in that sense, Agatha could do no wrong. But ballet companies do not look for pure technical genius built from years – nearly decades – of painstaking, methodical practice, they look for something else, something much more subtle and much, much harder to define.

Whatever that second, other thing is, they did not find it in Agatha Harkness, and she was denied the acceptance she’d spent her entire life trying to find.

Agatha Harkness is a lot of things, but a quitter is not, and has never been, one of them.

The dance studio has been a second home to her for as long as she can remember, and while she throws herself back into a room full of mirrors, stares at herself, corrects herself (mentally, the voice of her mother, cutting through, telling her to straighten her back as a ramrod, hold her arms perfectly curved, not at that angle, hold, do not move, do not breathe), she also admits that whatever it is she is doing will not help her. She does not know why the companies have closed their gates to her, and if it were something her mother could catch, she would have caught it already.

Perhaps something has shifted in the years her mother has been absent. Agatha can’t guess at what that could possibly be, but she’s not there, so she can’t know. She stretches, that pleasant sort of ache that pulls at her muscles, familiar and comforting, and her stomach rumbles, but she’s grown to ignore that.

The other girls at the studio have whispered about another ballerina, recently retired for medical reasons, who has returned to Haddington. Whoever this person is, surely she can provide the clarification and context that Agatha’s mother lacks. Agatha doesn’t so much talk to the other dancers as she listens – there’s always been a point of something between them, something that she’s never quite been able to cross, although when she was younger, they’d tried – she can’t put her finger quite on what it is—

She listens in and waits and finally catches a singular name: Cian Masters.

Agatha holds the name close to her chest and begins her research.

In the silence of their evening meal, Agatha mentions Cian by name.

Her mother nods slow. I remember her. She sets her spoon down, tears a piece of bread. She trained under me for a short while before she was picked up in New York. Her brow furrows. She’s back? She should have years left in her.

I heard it was something medical. Agatha tears her bread the same as her mother does, and when her mother is not looking, she hides the piece elsewhere. Bread is difficult. Senor Scratchy cannot have bread. But she’s gotten good at hiding it where her mother cannot see and flushing it away down the toilet later. (Outside leaves the risk of strays not finding it fast enough, trashcans leave the risk that her mother may find it buried beneath piles of crumpled paper. She needs to be better than that.) Do you think...? Her voice trails off.

This is the hard part.

Her mother looks up. Do I think what?

Agatha shakes her head, takes a sip of lukewarm water. Nothing.

In the back of her head, Agatha hears her mother say, Spit it out! but those words aren’t really there. Instead, her mother’s lips purse, and her expression softens into one of idle consideration.

It has always been tricky to seed things in her mother’s mind, but Agatha has gotten better at it over the years, particularly when it comes to something she wants. Perhaps there would be no fear in being so open with this, but she can’t take that risk. She needs this outsider’s eyes to tell her what she’s missing. If she finds what she’s missing, she can fix it before auditions next year. If she can fix it before auditions next year, then her acceptance is all but assured.

Whoever this Cian is might have retired for medical reasons, but that doesn’t mean she can’t at least give her a look. That’s all she needs.

Agatha tears another piece of her bread, hides it away, and smiles, thin-lipped, as her mother considers.

Three days later, when Agatha returns home, chilly from walking in what should have been a soothing breeze after practicing on her own until sweat slickened her body, her mother mentions having talked with Cian, pauses, and then states – doesn’t ask, because when it comes to these sorts of things, she never asks – She has an opening for you this Saturday morning. She gives her the time and then levelly meets her eyes. Don’t be late.

Agatha looks down on her mother, hides the smug smile she will reveal on her own in her room later, and gives a firm nod.

I won’t be.

Agatha Harkness is seventeen years old when she meets the first love of her life, and this must seem shocking and untoward to you, but—

But—

When Agatha arrives at the studio that crisp September morning, there is no one there waiting for her. The receptionist won’t arrive for another hour, which she knows full well, and there won’t be any students for another half hour after that; Agatha has a key of her own, given on the understanding that she cannot have an entire room to herself for the entire day. On many occasions, she simply practices in the back of the room while the other dancers go about their class, although there are a few teachers who have demanded she leave their room because she is, as one might say, a distraction. Others think she’s an inspiration. She doesn’t really care what they think, as long as she has the space she needs.

Her stomach rumbles first as she opens the door and again, much harder, as she begins her warm-up exercises.

It can wait.

Cian – and it must be Cian, because Agatha knows every other student and teacher at this particular studio – arrives three hours later. She shivers as she walks in; although it’s grown warmer as the morning has stretched on, the sky has decided to open and let down a torrential downpour, and the studio keeps its air conditioner on blast. If anything, Cian looks like a soaked street rat, an appearance that doesn’t change when she pulls down her hood and bares her bare head.

Agatha pretends not to be judgmental, but she can’t understand how a company so specific about the form and shape of their dancers would allow for one of them to be bald. She sets her teeth against each other and continues her forms, refusing to let herself be distracted by this woman—

She feels a thin, cold, wet hand on her bare shoulder, and she stumbles, whirls around with a menacing gleam in her otherwise bright eyes. Don’t forces itself through her lips before her eyes lift to meet Cian’s green-gray ones – she’s seen pictures of moss growing on rocks just at the edge of waterfalls, that slippery footing that throws you over before you realize what’s happening because it’s so slick and soft, though she’s never—

I don’t get a break for another—

Take a break now. Cian speaks soft and clear and with a gentle rigidity that suggests her words are not a suggestion but a command. Her eyes hold Agatha’s and do not move. Your body is not meant to maintain what you are doing to it. You do more damage than good.

A rain drop drips from Cian’s hollowed face – from the very tip of her chin – and lands on the bridge of Agatha’s upturned nose.

Agatha glances to the clock. They will be expecting her to pause for lunch soon. She should at least keep up appearances. But—

You’re supposed to judge me. Her gaze returns to Cian. The companies don’t think I’m worthy enough to join them, and you’re supposed to tell me what I’m missing. If I take a break now—

Then I will see you from the first, Cian interrupts, voice still and calm. I will see your everything, not just what you have curated for me. Wouldn’t that be far better, child?

Agatha glares at her. I’m not a child.

Then don’t act like one. Cian’s thin lips almost seem to curve. Amusement. Mockery? Is this a joke to them? She steps back, moving her hand from Agatha’s shoulder, where it has left a wet print. I’m famished, dear. Eat with me, and we’ll talk.

I’m not hungry. Agatha hesitates as Cian’s eyes take her in. She doesn’t want to be seen. Not like this. Instinctively, she wraps her arms around herself, making herself even smaller. What, do you need to see my eating habits, too?

Cian’s eyes meet hers again. No. I just need to see you.

Instinctively, Agatha shivers, but her gaze doesn’t drop, holds steady. She brushes the wet spot from her shoulder, ignores the drop trickling from the bridge of her nose. There’s a vending machine in the back. They let me use the breakroom, if I need it. She never needs it, but she doesn’t mention that. It hasn’t been necessary since they set up a microwave in one of the other adjoining rooms (it’s supposed to be for the children, to give them hot chocolate when it’s cold, but Agatha uses it almost exclusively). She feels weak. Food would be—

Show me.

And she does.

Cian’s gaze is insidious.

The woman misses nothing, comments when Agatha tries to discard a barely eaten granola bar, suggests she get something more than that if she doesn’t like it (and that, honestly, child, she should be eating more than that anyway, with all the calories she’s burning), and becomes a great reminder of why Agatha refuses to eat with anyone anymore. Her hands warm from her mug – hot water, bouillon cube, nothing else – and that’s enough. She doesn’t need more, and she certainly doesn’t want it, but under Cian’s unwavering gaze, she can’t not.

It’s infuriating.

As if Cian and her thin, waiflike body, her long limbs and longer self (she is too tall, she is too tall, and yet somehow she made it in when Agatha did not) would know anything about struggling to fit into the ideals that the companies wanted and Agatha still doesn’t fit into, no matter how hard she tries.

(Unworthy wretch.)

Her stomach feels the weight of food it isn’t used to – the vending machine is so much greasy snacks, which is even worse – and Agatha forces it to settle as best she can.

Still, throughout everything, throughout awkward conversation, throughout warm-up stretches after her break to ease her back into things, through the beginnings of technique, always, always Cian’s eyes on her, following her, judging her.

She’d asked for this. She needs this.

It still makes her uncomfortable.

Cian says nothing as she dances, just stands there in the back corner, leaning against the wall, staring at her. Nothing to suggest she do anything different, nothing to say that she’s doing anything wrong, and that continues as she moves into easy exercises, as she sets a song playing and moves through paces, easy, hard, and still nothing, just that standing in the corner, sometimes moving around to get a better look, and it’s worse than the auditions, where they’d all stood – or sat – in one line and peered at her; this is one person searching and judging and moving closer to make sure that—

She’d asked for this.

She needs this.

It’s another three hours of silence from Cian – and for this, the studio has given them space; for this, the studio has allowed the freedom of this room; for this stripping down – and Agatha feels like she can’t take it but she has to take it because at the end, Cian will be able to tell her what was missing – what is missing – so that she can fix it—

Stop.

Agatha can’t just stop – there’s a whirling, a whirling before she can get herself to stop – and the music is still playing, but at least this time Cian’s voice sounds clearly analytical without a hint of chill. There’s something there. Something. She takes a deep breath in, tries to settle her heavy chest, her heart giving a shock of pain that she’s grown quite used to (it’s nothing, it’s nothing, it’s nothing). What? What’s wrong?

Cian stands perfectly straight, which isn’t fair because she is so much taller than Agatha is and it feels so much like she’s looming over her. You’re missing something.

Yes, yes, I know that, Agatha thinks but doesn’t say because it will do absolutely no good to snap at her. What is it? she asks instead, voice as soft and gentle as she can make it.

I don’t know that I can say, child.

Agatha snaps, then. If you can’t say, then what good are you? She bites her tongue then, cheeks flushing a bright red that could be from shame or anger or both. Sorry, she says immediately after. I didn’t mean—

Yes, you did. That same thin-lipped expression nearly upturned – that same amusement, like this is expected and hilarious. It isn’t funny to Agatha, no matter what it is to Cian. She feels sick. This all feels so patronizing.

But Cian steps forward. I think you’ve done enough for today, child.

But I—

I can help you, Cian says, voice still that soft, quiet, stillness, but it will take more time. Is that you want?

Agatha stares at her. You want to teach me.

I want to help you, yes.

It’s immediate, the way Agatha agrees. Yes. She’s breathless. Yes. She searches Cian’s eyes, looking for something hidden that maybe she can begin to understand. What do I need to do? When do we start?

Cian lays out a schedule that she must expect Agatha cannot keep up – six days a week, hours after school, longer hours on Saturdays – but it doesn’t faze her in the slightest. She can do all of that. She’s already been doing that, running on few and fewer hours of sleep as school has grown harder, but school isn’t as important as this is. They know that. Grades are less important than the companies who might take her, if she learns what she’s missing, if she finds and claims it, if—

You have to do exactly as I say, Cian finishes. No questions asked. Will that suffice?

Agatha agrees.

There’s no other choice, is there?

She agrees.

#bandit fic #agave fic #agathian #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x the ancient one #the ancient one x agatha harkness #cian masters #i'm not throwing this one in the ancient one tag but #YEP #tw eating disorders #eating disorders tw

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dialogue-queered · 2 years

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{D-Q Feature}: ‘Kunstkamer - a reflection’

‘Kunstkamer - a reflection’

Ian Bell

21 June 2022

The gestural language of human bodies is fascinating even inspiring[1]. It can intimate moods and all kinds of scenarios and dilemmas. Spacing and pacing as well as artful coordination of speed and athleticism may produce especially notable episodes. This language is omnipresent in all human settings whether households or the arenas of work, consumption, sport, art and more. Crucially, it is expressed (and sometimes overtly formulated) at the boundary of inner subjectivities – conscious and sub-conscious - and externalised identities enacted in social settings.

A professionally, choreographed dance work is one example of an overtly formulated and charged distillation of such a language. In this case, the gestural possibilities are amplified when formal cultures of choreography and story-telling are combined with specific narratives, fashions and costumes, sets, lighting, music and film.

In a recent season of the long work, Kunstkamer, the Australian Ballet (AB) has reworked all these elements. First created by four choreographers of the Netherlands Dance Theatre (NDT) in the period up to late 2019, and ‘steered’ by Paul Lightfoot, it was a work designed to celebrate sixty years of the NDT, and the myriad possibilities of dance[2]. Paul Lightfoot describes it as “a beautiful monster”.

After its opening in 2019 in The Netherlands, a European tour was cut short by the covid-19 pandemic. This adds to the significance of the Australian Ballet’s full staging of the work across multiple, Australian cities in the period April to June 2022.

Kunstkamer means an art room or cabinet of curiosities. Renown in Europe from early modern times as collections of unusual or foreign artifacts, especially those yielded-up by nature and exploration, cabinets of curiosities were the forerunners of museums[3]. Indeed, in some cases they furnished the founding collections for the same. For the NDT, a specific inspiration arose from the C18th works of one, Albertus Bela, especially the latter’s four volume book detailing his collection.

Here the ‘cabinet’ metaphor translates to a series of vignettes rather than an integrated, narrative work. These explore different possibilities of dance and gestural language creating a museum-like experience. The set reinforces this with large, grey, moveable, wall-like structures composed of myriad doors that usher dancers and scenes in and out. The set lighting works precisely to support fluid movement between effects and scenes.

The work, then, eschews narrative apart from micro-stories in vignette but adds singing as well as spoken word with allusive and evocative effects. Each scene is supported by different musical extracts. Some parody particular dance forms in a humorous fashion; for instance, stiff, Strauss waltzes that can sometimes be stifling and class-conscious. Others affirm and take seriously more marginal modes of being: the individual seemingly at the end of their tether or, alternatively, facing a long trek on a road to somewhere unclear.

Most ambitiously, and harking back to Bela’s collections and taxonomies, Kunstkamer begins with, and works from, the premise of a shared capacity for bodily movement and gesture across species; as the AB’s synopsis puts it – across “art and science”. This concern with shared capacity is set from the start via flickering video images.

As one would expect there are strong solo performances as well as pas-de-deux. But what impresses here is the strong, collective structure and organisation as individuals and sub-groups merge into very large ensembles for difficult, extended scenes[4].

Pacing and timing here deserve particular notice; they are radically polarised. The second half, for instance, opens with a stylish and funny, immobile performance supporting posing and day-dreaming. By contrast, most of the scenes feel frenetic, and the shifts between them sometimes “violent”[5]. Overall, I was left entranced but also somewhat exhausted and dizzy by the end.

Nonetheless, as whole, the work is inspiring. The sheer number of forms and the array of music are rarely experienced in one work. At times the nerve-endings around my spine were electrified with the senses firing salvos right through my inner world. Kunstkamer, then, achieves its goal of a celebration of dance and artful movement. It inspires us to continue our own journeys of embodied movement with and for others, and for ourselves.

[1] The writer approaches the issues both from an outsider’s aesthetic love of dance language and music, and the experience of movement as a life-long yoga practitioner.

[2] In addition to Paul Lightfoot, the choreographers included Sol Leon, Crystal Pite and Marco Goecke. Lightfoot discusses the steering process in his interview with David Hallberg, Australian Ballet (2022), ‘A beautiful monster|Hallberg in Conversation with Paul Lightfoot’, 19 April, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zdCqIq53BT0, viewed 9 June 2022.

[3] Rooms or cabinets of curiosities had mixed reputations. In some hands they were like trophy cabinets representing the spoils of conquest and colonialism. But in others’ they represented an effort to conserve and document nature, and to promote new, less exploitative attitudes towards it.

[4] Intimations of this difficulty are illustrated by the preparatory videos shared with the public: Australian Ballet (2022), ‘Journey to Opening Night|Kunstkamer’ 21 April. <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K0vUt23GLNY&t=80s>, viewed 9 June 2022.

[5] This descriptor is Tim Brynes’ in his 4 June 2022 Guardian Australia review: ‘Kunstkamer review: this fiendishly, complicated ballet is astonishing’, https://www.theguardian.com/stage/2022/jun/05/kunstkamer-review-this-fiendishly-complicated-ballet-is-astonishing, viewed 13 June 2022.

Image: Australian Ballet in ensemble in Kunstkamer, ph David Boud.

#australia #australian ballet #dance #ballet #art #auspol #kunstkamer #cabinet of curiosities #netherlands dance theatre #choreography #paul lightfoot #sol leon #crystal pite #marco goecke #david hallberg #ian bell

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iwanthermidnightz · 1 year

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Rebekah Harkness was one of the world's richest women, the Standard Oil heiress and founding patron of the Harkness Ballet. But beneath the elegant surface lurked a driven woman tormented by personal demons. This biography tells the story of how one of the richest families descended into a world of drugs, madness, suicide, and violence.

Maybe Taylor saying the glitter was 'blue' was a hint about the Rebekah Harkness book called 'Blue Blood' by Craig Unger. Maybe she is writing TLGAD film. 🧐👀

Hmmm. I think that would classify as a heartbreak movie, which she said she wouldn’t do again (at least for the time being).

I do think there’s so much material there. Whatever Taylor conjures up I’m here for 🫶🏻

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unwelcome-ephestion · 2 years

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My promised explanation of why Sondheim had more to do with Rose's Turn than is often thought! Well, it all comes down to Jerome Robbins - a man whose name features large in unpleasant musical theatre anecdotes. He was the director of Gypsy, and whilst described by Sondheim as the only genius he had ever worked with, was notoriously difficult to work with. He had also named names during the Hollywood Red Scare, which made him particularly unpopular with Arthur Laurents, the book writer, who had been blacklisted.

Robbins was a director, but he was also a choreographer - one of the most celebrated in theatre history. Rose's Turn was meant to be a ballet that illustrated Rose's mental breakdown. Well, relatively close to opening according to Laurents, Robbins declared he wouldn't do a ballet, and it would have to be a song. Never mind that they hadn't an inkling of a song and opening was a number of weeks away - Robbins wasn't writing a ballet, and that was it.

The problem was, Jule Styne, the composer, was not available to suddenly write a song in one night. So Laurents and Sondheim, book writer and lyricist respectively, shut themselves up and put together a song that would have a similar function to a ballet, reusing bits of music to show the fragmentation of Rose's mind in the fragments of her once determined, powerhouse tunes we have heard before. Style arrived the following day and helped get it into its finished state, but he was lucky to have a lyricist who was such an accomplished musician!

This composite nature of the song also reveals something interesting - a song that was cut from Gypsy, sung between June and Louise, still exists in a fragment of Rose's Turn. Most of the song's melodies are instantly recognisable from earlier in the show, but "Mama's got the stuff, Mama's letting loose" etc harks back to a part of the show that no longer exists. A lot was cut from Gypsy for pace reasons - Sondheim stated the only regret he has is that that fragment now hangs without a reference point. At least, unless you know where it comes from as you do now!

#gypsy #stephen sondheim #jule styne #arthur laurents #jerome robbins #rose's turn #musical theatre #imelda staunton #queue stole my heart away #Spotify

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sysk-ehess · 7 days

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MARK FRANKO

Lundi 29 avri 2024 à 19h (heure de Paris)

Monday April 29th 2024, 7pm (Paris time)

@ MSH, 16 – 18 RUE SUGER, 75006 (métro Odéon ou St – Michel)

Mark Franko est un historien de la danse de réputation internationale. Il a renouvelé notre compréhension de la danse baroque autant que de la performance et de la chorégraphie du XXe siècle dont il a étudié particulièrement les relations avec le champ politique et la constitution des collectifs. Depuis Dancing Modernism/Performing Politics en 1995, il a publié Dance as Text: Ideologies of the Baroque Body traduit en Français par les Éditions de l’Éclat sous le titre La danse comme texte : Idéologies du corps baroque ; The Dancing Body in Renaissance Choreography: Kinetic Theatricality and Social Interaction (2022) ; The Work of Dance: Labour, Movement and Identity in the 1930s (2002) ; Martha Graham in Love and War : The Life in the Work (2012 )et, en 2020, The Fascist Turn in the Dance of Serge Lifar: Interwar French Ballet and the German Occupation. Il est aussi le co-éditeur de Acting on the Past: Historical Performance Across the Disciplines (2000). En 2018 une anthologie de ses écrits a été publiée par Routledge : Choreographing Discourses: A Mark Franko Reader qui permet de retrouver les nombreux articles qu’il a publiés dans Discourse, PMLA, The Drama Review, Res: Anthropology and Aesthetics, Theatre Journal… Mark Franko est professeur de Danse et président du département des Arts du Théâtre de l’Université de Californie, Santa Cruz. Mais Franko a aussi poursuivi une carrière de danseur et de chorégraphe, d’abord (1964-1969) dans le cadre du Studio for Dance, à New York, un bastion précoce de la danse post-moderne auquel il a consacré un livre, Excursion for Miracles: Paul Sanasardo, Donya Feuer, and Studio for Dance. Avec sa propre compagnie, NovAntiqua, fondée en 1985, il a travaillé le répertoire classique autant que la restitution des danses du Bauhaus par exemple. Son œuvre de chorégraphe a obtenu le soutien du National Endowment for the Arts, the Harkness Foundation for Dance, the Getty Research Center for the History of Art and the Humanities, the Zellerbach Family Fund and the New Jersey State Council on the Arts. NovAntiqua s'est produite au J. Paul Getty Museum (Malibu), au Berlin Werkstatt Festival, à la de la Torre Bueno Award Ceremony (Lincoln Center, New York), au Mueée d'Art de Toulon, à l'Opéra de Montpellier,au Lincoln Center Out-of-Doors Festival, aux Princeton University Theater and Dance Series, au Haggerty Art Museum (Milwaukee), et le ODC Theatre San Francisco.

[EN] Mark Franko is an internationally renowned dance historian. He has renewed our understanding of Baroque dance as much as of twentieth-century performance and choreography, whose relations with the political field and the constitution of collectives he has studied in particular. Since Dancing Modernism/Performing Politics in 1995, he has published Dance as Text: Ideologies of the Baroque Body, translated into French by Éditions de l'Éclat as La danse comme texte: Idéologies du corps baroque; The Dancing Body in Renaissance Choreography: Kinetic Theatricality and Social Interaction (2022); The Work of Dance: Labour, Movement and Identity in the 1930s (2002); Martha Graham in Love and War: The Life in the Work(2012 )and, in 2020, The Fascist Turn in the Dance of Serge Lifar: Interwar French Ballet and the German Occupation. He is also the co-editor of Acting on the Past: Historical Performance Across the Disciplines (2000). In 2018, an anthology of his writings was published by Routledge: Choreographing Discourses: A Mark Franko Reader, which brings together the many articles he has published in Discourse, PMLA, The Drama Review, Res: Anthropology and Aesthetics, Theatre Journal... Mark Franko is Professor of Dance and Chair of the Department of Theatre Arts at the University of California, Santa Cruz. But Franko has also pursued a career as a dancer and choreographer, first (1964-1969) with New York's Studio for Dance, an early bastion of post-modern dance to which he dedicated a book, Excursion for Miracles: Paul Sanasardo, Donya Feuer, and Studio for Dance. With his own company, NovAntiqua, founded in 1985, he has worked on the classical repertoire as well as the restitution of Bauhaus dances, for example. His choreographic work has been supported by the National Endowment for the Arts, the Harkness Foundation for Dance, the Getty Research Center for the History of Art and the Humanities, the Zellerbach Family Fund and the New Jersey State Council on the Arts. NovAntiqua has appeared at the J. Paul Getty Museum (Malibu), the Berlin Werkstatt Festival, the de la Torre Bueno Award Ceremony (Lincoln Center, New York), France's Toulon Art Museum, the Montpellier Opera, Lincoln Center Out-of-Doors Festival, the Princeton University Theater and Dance Series, the Haggerty Art Museum (Milwaukee), and ODC Theatre San Francisco.

Programmation et prochains rendez-vous sur ce site ou par abonnement à la newsletter : [email protected]

Pour regarder les séminaires antérieurs : http://www.vimeo.com/sysk/

Séminaire conçu et organisé par Patricia Falguières, Elisabeth Lebovici et Natasa Petresin-Bachelez et soutenu par la Fundación Almine y Bernard Ruiz-Picasso para el Arte

#something you should know #sysk #artist #producer #ehess #mark franko

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