#lina mendes

[madreemeritus]

I love the Brazilian Portuguese translation of PotO 🥹

"All I Ask of You (Reprise)" is so much heartbreaking, because Erik says "ele só te ama pois te ouviu cantar", which translates to "he only loves you because he heard you sing", holy fuck it's so accurate! Raoul didn't recognize Christine until she sang, while Erik tought her how to sing and saw a much deeper and more meaningful person aside from her singing talent. And still on the AIAOY Reprise, he finishes saying "tudo o que o Fantasma só pediu", which translates to "all that the Phantom only asked", much more desparate and pleading rather than demanding.

My favorite line comes from Christine during "The Final Lair", she says "não estás mais só" which translates to "you are not alone anymore" 🥹 she WANTED TO GO WITH HIM!! SHE WANTED TO SHOW HIM LOVE AND AFFECTION AAAAAAAA, she was there for him!! But he decided it was better to apart their ways, even though he loved her more than anything... i'll cry. I'm proud of my Brazil 🥹🇧🇷❤️

Thiago Arancam (Erik) and Lina Mendes (Christine) ☝🏼

#the phantom of the opera #erik #poto #musical #broadway #andrew lloyd webber #christine daaé #thiago arancam #lina mendes #teatro #poto brazil

[cdaae]

Thiago Arancam, Lina Mendes, and the 2018 Brazilian Revival Company

x

#phantom of the opera #phantom #the phantom of the opera #Thiago arancam #lina mendes #I hadn’t seen these before and the quality is nice

[operafantomet]

Promo video following roughly the same idea in:

West End (Kelly Mathieson, Ben Lewis and ballerinas)

Sao Paulo (Lina Mendes, Thiago Arancam and ballerinas)

Broadway (Julia Udine, James Barbour and ballerinas)

#phantom of the opera #kelly mathieson #lina mendes #julia udine #christine daae #maria bjørnson

[marleneoftheopera]

Christine, certified girl boss.

A direction I wish was used more. After everything that happens, seeing Christine almost intimidate the Phantom is so satisfying.

Felicidad Farag, Madrid

Julia Moller, Madrid

Anne Gorner, Essen

Ana Marina, World Tour

Valerie Link, Hamburg

Lauri Brons, Hamburg

Harriet Jones, London

Meghan Picerno, World Tour

Lina Mendes, Brazil

Also, this is by no means a complete list. 

#i believe the current direction is christine going towards the phantom and trying to plead or embrace him in a way #which works especially with certain christine interpretations #but i love this too #pure team christine moment #felicidad farag #julia moller #poto madrid #anne gorner #poto essen #das phantom der oper #ana marina #poto world tour #valerie link #lauri brons #poto hamburg #poto london #harriet jones #meghan picerno #lina mendes #o fantasma da opera #poto brazil #The Phantom of the Opera

[diegosouzalions]

Diego,feliz ano novo, não queria te incomodar, mas seria possível você repetir quais seriam as dubladoras Br da Au?

Igualmente! Posso sim:

- Magenta: Flávia Fontenelle

- Peach: Gottsha

- Hope: Mariana Torres

- Bi-Color: Flávia Saddy

- Lime: Maíra Goes

- Cherry: Lina Rossana

- Sun: Mabel Cezar

- Moon: Priscila Amorim

- Aqua: Lina Mendes

- Cognac: Vágner Fagundes

- Smoky: André Marcondes

- Gray: Fernanda Baronne

- Silver & Golden: Sylvia Salustti

#steven universe #ask #anonymous #diegosouzalions2024

[wheel-of-fish]

Saturday, April 20, 2024 • 9 p.m. EST: Fred Silveira, Lina Mendes & Henrique Moretzsohn (São Paulo 2019)

I looooved when the São Paulo production was going on; we got so much content and so many amazing Christines! This performance, featuring principal Lina Mendes and understudy Fred Silveira, has been on the restream requests lists forever (I'm so sorry). Also, FRECKLE MEG (Fernanda Muniz, one of my favorites)!

As always, the stream will be on cy.tube and shy anons are welcome. For more info, please see the Saturday Streams FAQ! Link and password will be posted here at 8:45.

#streams #saturday streams

[victoria-daydreams]

The Dressmaker

AN: So, I did it, I wrote a Luca Changretta fanfiction. This was supposed to be 1k words at max, but of course I went overboard. If this story seems all over the place, I’m sorry but I promise it made much better sense in my head.

Trigger warnings: racial slur, my attempt to write sexual tension, knowing nothing about sewing

Word Count: 3.3k

The crackle of static and then the slow melody of a bow drawing across the strings of a violin floated into the ears of the young woman seated behind a polished mahogany counter. Selina let her pencil glide across the paper, a few faint lines here, a dark outline over there. All was quiet in Miss Clarke’s Dress Shop, the store located right on the corner of the street. Everyone on the street knew who she was, for she was constantly mending or designing pieces for customers that frequented her shop. Not to mention, that Selina’s dress shop was infamous for its wide variety; fabric of every conceivable color and style exploded from the racks.

However, there was another clientele that Selina extended her services to in a much different capacity. The Peaky Blinders, also known as The Shelby’s, often used the space in her basement as storage for their shipments. They appreciated her discretion and Selina was more than to happy to help, because that’s what family is for, right? Selina wasn’t a Shelby by blood, but she was a Shelby through and through and no one dared to dispute that.

Orphaned at young age due to her parents dying from disease, Selina had no where to go, but in swooped Polly who happily adopted her. According to the older woman, Selina’s mother and her were good friends; faintly she could remember Polly’s face as a young child before her parent’s death. Still, Polly raised her like she was her own and was fiercely protective of her.

Out of nowhere, a saucer and teacup was placed down onto the counter with gentle clink. Selina lifted her head and looked over to see Naveen’s friendly, brown eyes staring back at hers.

“Still cracking away at it Lina?” he asked, holding a teacup of his own.

“Unfortunately,” she sighed, letting the pencil fall from her fingers. She grabbed the handle of the porcelain cup and raised it to her lips. A contented hum left her. “Bless you Naveen, you made it just how I like it,” Selina said, a smile on her face.

“You started teatime without me?” Julia questioned, looking up from the hem of a dress she was inspecting. “Some friends you lot are,” she commented, letting out a scoff.

“The teapot is still hot, plenty of time to pour yourself a cuppa and join us,” Naveen joked, moving further down the counter.

“It’s not the same though,” Julia complained, shoving her hands into the pockets of the same white coat they were all wearing. “There’s something about the way you make my tea that makes it fantastic,” she said, leaning against the counter.

“Better luck next time,” he wished, with a smirk as he put his cup down.

Naveen picked up a pair of shears lying on the countertop and held them up to the light. The blades glinted dully. Reaching underneath the counter, he grabbed an emery stone and positioned the edge of the blade against it before running the shears across it repeatedly.

“What do you say, Lina?” Julia asked, causing her to whip her head from watching Naveen to her. “Be a friend, and make me a cup of tea,” she suggested.

“Absolutely not,” Selina answered dryly, picking up her pencil again. “The lord has blessed with you two hands and two feet,” she continued. “Use them,” Selina suggested, flashing her friend a smile before focusing on her sketch again.

“The next time you two need a favor, don’t bother coming to ask me,” she warned playfully, as she walked to the back room.

“Oh, I’m shaking in my boots Julia,” Naveen retorted.

Selina laughed quietly as her pencil scratched against the paper as she fidgeted with the details. Just then, the bell to the door rang signaling a customer had just entered the shop.

“Welcome to Miss Clarke’s Dress Shop, how may I help you,” Selina greeted cheerily, without having to think about it as her eyes remained glued on the paper.

She received no response, just eerie silence. Selina felt herself stiffen, now noticing that Naveen’s scrapping had also came to an abrupt halt as well. Her head snapped up and towards the direction of the door, Selina’s blood ran cold but she kept a stoic expression. Standing at six feet tall, a hawkish and smartly dressed man with half a smirk was flanked by more men similarly dressed as him.

“Fuck me,” she thought.

Whoever this man was, he definitely had a presence, a certain air about him that commanded your attention and respect. The type of man that when he talked, people listened. It reminded her of Tommy. The worst part of all though, was that the stranger was undeniably handsome.

"Yes, can I help you?" Selina repeated calmly.

“Where’s the funeral?” the man asked, walking further in the shop.

“Quite the accent. He’s certainly not from here,” she thought to herself. “Italian, but he sounds American as well,”

The stranger’s voice was smooth, reminding her of honey. Instinctively, Selina went on alert. This man, whoever he was, radiated a persuasive aura and a potentially manipulative one as well. His tone said it all. She just knew underneath this man's gentlemanly exterior hid a hibernating beast.

“Why all the solemn faces?” he questioned, looking around the room, before his eyes connected with hers.

Those coal black, mournful eyes burned into her dark brown ones intensely, and she returned the stare in equal measure. It was not the time to show even the slightest amount of fear.

“Solemnity isn’t the right word,” Selina answered, as Julia slowly emerged from the back room with boxes in hand. “Maybe it’s confusion my colleagues and I share,” she corrected, putting the pencil eraser to her chin.

“And what’s so confusing about us?”

“It could be the fact that there are…….” Selina trailed off, starting to count the men standing behind him with her pencil. "One, two, three, four, five, six,” she counted, before finally pointing her pencil at the man with inky black hair who was clearly the leader. “Seven,” she finished, staring pointedly at him.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Naveen’s hand had discretely moved to underneath the counter again. This time, he wasn’t reaching for a sharpening stone, his hand was resting on a revolver.

“There are seven men standing in my dress shop, and I don’t know why that is,” Selina stated, glancing around the room.

He grinned, “Ah, so you’re the owner of this fine establishment, you’re its namesake,” he said, walking up to the counter and standing directly across from her. “Well, Miss Clarke, have you considered that the seven men standing here might want dresses made for their girls?” he suggested.

“And yet, none of you brought any of your ‘girls’,” Selina observed, wagging her pencil. “Hard to do measurements on your girlfriends if they’re all figments of your imagination,” she remarked, which the man smirked at.

He leaned against the counter, his eyes boring into hers once more.

“Signorina, I’ve been told you deal in a great many services,” the man hinted, as she placed the pencil down.

“As do many other dressmakers,” Selina retorted, interlocking her fingers. “Signore,” she added.

A smirk tugged at the Italian’s lips, his eyes merely twinkling with mirth at Selina’s use of his language.

“How many deal with the criminal underworld?”

That one sentence caused an uneasy silence to envelope the room. Tension hung in the air, tight and overbearing. The atmosphere was suffocating.

“Shit,” she thought.

“Mr. Varma and Miss Russell, we have deliveries that need to be taken out today,” Selina informed, gazing between the two of them. “Why don’t you two do it now, before it gets too late,” she said, as the man pushed away from the counter, a smug grin on his face.

“Miss Clarke—”

“Now, Miss Russell,” Selina ordered.

“Yes, ma’am,”

Julia nodded in defeat and slid off her white coat and hung it up. Reluctantly, Naveen mimicked her movements, carefully pulling off his coat as well. Grabbing two of the three white parcel boxes, each neatly tied with a bow, Julia walked between the Italian man and Selina, shooting her one last wary glance before leaving with the chime of the bell. Naveen’s eyes swept over the room as he took the last parcel off the counter, slowly moving away from her.

“Wait,” Selina called, grabbing his arm. She rose from from the stool and pushed herself onto her tip toes. She leaned towards him as if she was going to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Be careful. Make sure that you aren’t followed,” she whispered, her lips close to his ear.

“Christ, you’re not sending the boy to war,” the man jested, causing his henchmen to chuckle.

Selina’s eyes narrowed, but she remained silent as she pulled away from him.

“I’ll be careful with the dress, Miss Clarke. Don’t you worry,” Naveen assured, sending her a smile as he backed away.

“Make sure you take the scenic route, Mr. Varma,” the man ordered. “There are some things Miss Clarke and I need to discuss,” he explained, glancing over towards her.

Naveen shifted his eyes to Selina and she nodded her head, mouthing “Go,” to him. The little bell rang again, signaling to Selina that she was now utterly alone in her own shop which was currently being occupied by a group of strange Italian men.

“You run a tight ship, for a dress shop. I’m impressed,” he said, nodding his head. “Most times I tell people to do something, they do it, stranger or not. But not your workers,” he noted. “They look to you for your blessing,” he noted.

“It’s like you said, this is my namesake. What I say goes,” she countered coolly.

He chuckled, “You’ve got spirit, I like that,” he commented, pointing a finger at her.

Abruptly, the man started speaking in Italian and his henchmen immediately filed out of the shop.

“So, do you want a dress made or not, sir?” Selina asked, crossing her arms. “Though, I still don’t know how would you do it. Your girl isn’t present for measurements,” she said, an expectant look on her face.

“I’m staring at the perfect model,” the Italian stated, almost purring.

There was a hunger in the man’s eyes as they traveled down her body, and oddly enough, it sent delicious chills up her spine and flooded her body with warmth.

Selina’s eyebrows rose, “Women come in all different shapes and sizes,” she pointed out. “It’s simply impossible for she and I to have the exact same measurements,” Selina explained, shaking her head.

“Let me worry about that,”

“How am I going to take the measurements? I sent Mr. Varma and Miss Russell out,”

“I’ll do them,”

Selina couldn't help it. Her poker face broke as she let out an incredulous laugh.

“You?” she questioned, her brow arched. “You’re not a tailor,” she stated, looking him up and down.

“My uncle is one,”

“Oh, quite the qualification,” she quipped.

“Humor me,” he said, another smirk on his face. “I want to talk business with you,”

“Other than dresses?” Selina asked knowingly, unbuttoning her coat.

“Other than dresses, Miss Clarke,” he repeated, as she laid the coat onto the counter.

“Hmm,” Selina hummed, moving from behind the counter. “For your girl’s sake, I hope you know what you’re doing,” she commented, brushing past him.

She walked towards a section secluded from the rest of the shop. Immediately her eyes fell upon the two cushioned chairs near the open entrance, the three panel mirror directly positioned in the center of the room, and a single door to the changing room. Entering the space, Selina stood in front of the mirror and briefly shut her eyes while rubbing her temples.

“This is such a terrible idea, why did I ever agree to this? I don’t even know who I’m speaking with,”

“You still haven’t told me your name,” Selina reminded loudly, still massaging her temples. “How am I to do business—”

“Luca Changretta,” he murmured hotly against her ear, his breath leaving goose bumps on her flesh. “Of the Changretta Family,” he added, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Can’t say that I’ve heard of you, Mr. Changretta,” Selina responded, trying to control her breathing.

She needed to remain calm, and keep herself composed and grounded. She refused to show him how much he was affecting her. That would just be embarrassing and mortifying.

“I’m truly hoping that there’s another Changretta family out there, and not the one I’m thinking about,” she thought.

“But,” Luca began, his cold nose butting against her ear. “I’ve heard of you, Miss Selina Clarke,” he informed, finally pulling away from her. “The dressmaker who has a penchant of keeping her ear to the ground,” he went on, now standing in front of her.

“It’s not a crime to be a well-informed citizen, is it?” Selina asked curiously, looking up at him.

“No, I suppose not,” he agreed, shrugging his shoulders.

“Then why—”

She was cut short, inhaling sharply as slender fingers slid around her waist and cinched a ribbon of measuring tape tightly against her. The motion had her nearly made bump chest to chest with Luca. He gazed down at her, studying Selina with shrewd eyes; reading her like an open book. She felt like she was being pried apart by the dark pupils roaming her face. She felt completely naked. Selina drew a shuddering breath, each and every one raising her chest up and down

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, she was surprised that Luca couldn’t feel thumping in her chest, but she was eternally grateful.

“However,” he continued, briefly glancing at her lips. “Not many citizens make it their business to know the ins and outs of the criminal underbelly of their city,” Luca remarked, his eyes focusing back to the measuring tape.

“And why is an American interested in learning such knowledge?” Selina wondered, finding it much easier to breathe. “Don’t you have your own criminal underworld to worry about?” she asked again. He ignored the question and instead removed the tape from around her. “Unless, you’re a criminal yourself,” she figured, feeling the tape drop to her hips.

“I’m not just any old criminal, Miss Clarke. I’m head of a mafia family,”

“Fucking hell, the Sicilian mafia!”

Gingerly, he brought his arms around Selina, circling her bust and pinching the tape at the side. Luca stared at the number before smirking to himself, not even bothering to hide his gaze on the hint of cleavage from her top.

“Men can be such pigs,” she thought.

“The Changretta Family,” she began, getting his attention away from her breasts. “Still doesn’t ring a bell,” she lied.

“I wouldn’t expect it to,” Luca answered simply. “But I do know, that you’ve heard of another prominent family in this city,” he said, with a knowing stare. “One full of fucking gypsies,” he added.

“You’re talking about The Shelby Gang,” Selina replied, her face neutral.

“Shit, what did Tommy step into now?”

“Indeed I am,” Luca confirmed, as holding her arm up with his large hand and stretching the tape along it, starting to measure her left arm.

“Of course I’ve heard of them, who hasn’t?”

Luca read the tape before pulling it away, “What have you heard then?” he questioned.

“The same as everyone else I suppose,” Selina answered absentmindedly, as Luca finished measuring her other arm. “Cuts people a smile and blind ones that can see. Fiercely loyal to each other and little bit volatile,” she described, shrugging her shoulders. “Of course, that depends on which way the wind blows each day,” she noted.

In a way, Selina was being truthful, she mostly kept herself out of Peaky business, focusing mainly on her craft. Of course, that is not to say Selina did not know the ins and outs of the organization, she was very much aware of their dealings. Today was different, as it had shown Selina that her approach staying out of it didn't always go to plan. The Peaky Blinders affairs had landed right on her doorstep.

He paused, “You must heard more than that,” Luca said, eying her skeptically.

“Must I?” she asked back, cocking her slightly. “I hear just enough that my ears don’t get cut off,” she retorted.

The room fell silent and the tension between them was palpable again. It was thick and bulky, impossible to ignore. Luca and Selina stared each other down, neither backing off from the other. It was there, a new type tension began to unfold, one of the carnal nature. Selina felt something stir deep inside, something that she hadn’t experienced a while. Longing. Desire.

“I’m quite sorry that you traveled all this way and I couldn’t be of assistance,” Selina stated, finally breaking strained silence.

“Oh, just the opposite sweetheart,” Luca replied, the heat in his gaze burning through her like a wildfire.

“If I may ask,” Selina began, looking up from her lashes. “What’s an American mafia leader interest in a British one?” she asked, her voice cautious.

Luca let out a series of tsks and shook his head. Already standing close to each other, he reached his hand out and gently ran a finger down her cheek.

“Don’t worry your pretty, little head about that,” he answered, tapping the tip of her nose.

“You think I’m pretty, Mr. Changretta?”

“I think you’re a helluva lot more than pretty, Miss Clarke,” Luca stated, staring at her lips once more.

Another shiver coursed through her from the combination of his accent and his close proximity. Selina was inches away from him, their lips barely touching, breath mingling together in the tiny space between them.

“I do have one more thing to share with you,” Selina admitted breathily.

“What’s that?” Luca asked, his breathing just as ragged.

She stood up on her tiptoes, leaning forward to press her lips to his. But, at the very last second she dipped her head and ghosted her lips over his jawline.

“You’re a terrible tailor,” she whispered into his ear, before drawing back as he chased after her mouth.

Luca let out a frustrated puff of air, chuckling lightly against her cheek.

“You’re a fuckin tease,” he said, a slight growl in his voice.

Selina smiled as she used her hand to cover his own, guiding the slender fingers to slip up underneath her skirt.

“You didn’t take measurements of my thighs,” she reminded, her tone dropping an octave.

Her skirt rose all the way to the apex of her right hip, revealing thick thighs encased in sheer material of her stockings. Luca swallowed audibly, his fingers tracing over the fabric.

“Silly me, how could I forget,” he murmured, slowly dragging his eyes over her exposed leg.

Luca knelt in front of her, letting his cool fingers caress the bare skin where the stockings ended. Slowly, his hand curved over her hip, squeezing roughly at her backside. Unconsciously, Selina’s head fell backwards, her lips parting with a breathy sigh as her eyes fluttered shut. Her heart was beating wild in her chest, like it was about to explode. The only thing keeping her steady was her hand on Luca’s shoulder and the grip on the back of his neck.

He tugged at her leg slightly, pulling her closer to his face and slid his nose over her rich skin. Luca inhaled deeply, breathing in the flowery perfume she put on in the morning before planting his lips on her flesh. Slow, languid, and hot open mouthed kisses that trailed up her leg as Luca started to undo the clips holding her stocking up.

Loud gasps and pants escaped past Selina’s lips, her eyes screwing shut instinctively. Luca’s hair was no longer neatly slicked back, not with her manicured nails mussing it up. Suddenly, the cool sensation of the measuring tape around her thigh, shocked her. The ribbon almost felt like it was burning her already hot flesh. Pulling away from her thigh with a soft smack, Selina could feel Luca’s damp, warm breath fanning across skin.

“Since I’m no tailor, I may need assistance on where to measure from,” Luca stated, his breath coming out in short puffs.

A genuine smile finds its way to Selina’s face and she lets out an airy giggle, opening her eyes. Luca was already staring up at her, the intensity of his stare made her heart skip a few beats. Selina ran her fingers through his hair, playing with the strands at the nape of his neck.

“Mr. Changretta, you’ll be glad to know that there are three ways to do that,” Selina informed, a pleased smile on growing on her face. “And I would be more than happy to teach you,” she offered cheekily.

Part II

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #black fanfiction #black oc #luca changretta x reader #black!reader #luca changretta #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders oc #luca changretta x oc #poc!reader #woc!reader

[aboxthecolourofheartache]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗 (apologies for sending chain letters but i'll be honest: i DO find myself wanting to know which of an author's works they're most excited about at any given moment.)

why hello, thank you for the ask! :D

So, at this given moment, my favorites are the following five fics (grouped by source material, not in any particular order).

Nirvana in Fire:

"You, of all people" [link] - Some Mei Changsu and Lin Chen vignettes, most of them pre-canon.

and Ever Onward [link] - the fox spirit fic (incomplete but I swear to god I have not given up on it)

Critical Role:

This untitled "chapter" of the short fic collection [link] - Caleb and Essek have a relationship talk about fantasy racism.

The Sandman:

Duty of Care [link] - Lucienne mends books after the Vortex incident, and Dream gets soggy about it.

Trigun:

If You Had Not Have Fallen [link] - Lina accidentally murders a man with a bottle of orange soda then invites him home.

#thank you! :D #Box fic #I probably ought to have an actual writing tag #let's see if I remember to use this one #cross your fingers y'all

[fiu-soa-second-semester]

PRECEDENTS

LINK - 01 OOAK LINK - 02 Mendes da Rocha LINK - 03 Studio Mumbai LINK - 04 Campo Baeza LINK - 05 Alfonso Reidy LINK - 06 TEdA LINK - 07 Lina Bo Bardi LINK - 08 Smiljan Radic LINK - 09 Tham Videgard

[fabiansteinhauer]

Tafeln

1.

Die Brasilianer organisieren ihre Architekturen so, wie sie ihre Tafeln und darauf ihre Täfelchen, also zum Beispiel die Teller organisieren. Das wundert niemanden. Alle Gemeinschaften seien Tischgemeinschaften, das sagt Bernhard Siegert. Alle Gesellschaften sind Tafelgesellschaften, und so, wie der Mensch ist, was er isst, sind Gesellschaften so, wie sie tafeln. Also bilden sich sich was ein, bilden was aus, bauen so, wie sie Tafeln bilden und bauen.

Manchmal möchte man glauben, dass die Brasilianer ihre Architekturen und ihre Tafeln nicht diskret organisieren würden, die Deutschen würden es aber tun. Mein Teller, meine Tafel, mein eigen: bitte nicht berühren! Das wäre dann die deutsche Version, während in Brasilien auf der Tafel alles wandert und jeder sich von der Stelle was nimmt, von der auch ein anderer was nimmt. Manchmal glaubt man, die Deutschen hätten eine reinere Rechtslehre als die Brasilianer.

Manchmal glaubt man, die Deutschen würden am Tisch und in den Gebäuden alles sauber auseinanderhalten. Und die Brasilianer würden alles durcheinanderbringen, immer verschmelzen, immer vom Teller des anderen naschen und den Anderen sowieso vernaschen. Stimmt zwar, aber alles, was da passiert, passiert hier auch, nur in anderer Reihenfolge. Die Brasilianer tun es, die Deutschen aber auch, nur an anderen Stellen. Die Deutschen tun es, die Brasilianer aber auch, nur an anderen Stellen. Der Unterschied ist nicht unbedingt eine Frage der Identität, er ist eine Frage der Verwaltung.

Man kann unterscheiden, wie Brasilianer tafeln und wie es Deutsche tun. Man kann unterscheiden, wie eine Gesellschaft tafelt, die alles teilt und überträgt und mit Unbeständigkeit nicht mehr Probleme hat als ohne. Man kann diese Gesellschaft von einer deutschen Gesellschaft unterscheiden, in der die Leute vom eigenen Teller und dem Eigenen überhaupt manchmal wie besessen erscheinen und jeder seinen eigenen Teller hat. Man kann sagen, dass brasilianische Tafeln nicht ausdifferenziert und die deutschen Tische und Tellerchen ausdifferenziert wurden. Wer hat von meinem Tellerchen gegessen? Das ist eine Grimmsche Frage, eine deutsche Frage, eine systematische Frage. Sie stellt sich in Brasilien anders, und an den Architekturen erkennt man das schon, so wie man Architekturen auch an Tafeln und durch das Tafeln erkennt.

2.

Auf Tafel 78 taucht ein Gebäude auf, das Casa della Automobile in Rom. Dem Warburg ist dieses Gebäude aufgefallen, weil es ein Haus für Fahrzeuge ist, ein verrücktes Haus also: eine Immobilie für Mobile. In Rom steht dieses Haus nicht mehr. Aber in São Paulo steht ein vergleichbares Gebäude. Das ist seit heute, seitdem ich es besucht habe, mein Favorit in São Paulo. Wenn man alle Gebäude von Lina Bo Bardi, von Oscar Niemeyer, von Paulo Mendes da Rocha, also von den Stars durch hat, dann beginnt erst der fantastische Wahnsinn brasilianischer Architektur, denn das wird es alltäglich und bleibt fantastisch. Dies Parkhaus sammelt viele Motive, aus denen heraus Warburg seine Geschichte und Theorie vaguer Assoziationen entwickelt. Sagen wir so: Es parkt Motive so, wie es Autos parkt, also unbeständig. Dieses Parkhaus sammelt Motive und spuckt sie wieder aus, es kontrahiert und distrahiert Motive - es motiviert schubhaft zu Hemmungen und Schüben und gehemmt zu Schüben und Hemmungen. Dieses Parkhaus parkt und behaust, was Motive sein können, was Motivationen sein können - und lässt sie fahren. Diese Architektur steht nicht grundlos da, es ist nicht motivationslos gebaut. Es ist grundfrei und motivationsfrei - und ein Modell der vaguen Assoziationen, zu denen Luhmann keine und Warburg eine Theorie hat.

Das ist vague Architektur, unbeständige Architektur, eine Art contubernium, eine flatterhafte Behausung. Aber es gibt soviel Diskretion wie Indiskretion. Die nächsten Tage, die wenigen Tage werde ich dieses Haus genauer studieren. And i finally found, what i am looking for.

#são Paulo

[letsquestjess]

Blood Daughter - Chapter 7: The Order

Story Summary: After Kallar Viren flees the Empire, his daughter sets out to find him, only to discover he has been taken by Imperials. With help from Clone Force 99, Zeraphine pushes through her losses in a race against the clock to rescue her father or face the galaxy as the last of her family.

Warnings: Mentions of blood.

Chapter 6 | Chapter 8

Read from the beginning.

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Wrecker’s mouth gaped open in amazement as he marvelled at the sleek craft parked beside the Marauder. Hunching over, he gripped the lowered steps and inspected the weapon hatches. “Lina designed this? From scratch?” 

“According to Barro, she was rather specific with what she wanted,” Zeraphine said. “There are blueprints if you want to check them out. They’re loaded into the archival system.” 

In a burst of energy, Wrecker bounded up the stairs with Omega close on his heels and almost collided with Tech as he left the cockpit. Quick to apologise, they shuffled around him and huddled together to get a look at the detailed floor plans. 

Tech descended onto the cliff side they’d commandeered as a landing site and squinted at the blare of sunlight. Keeping to the cool shade, he lifted his datapad and eagerly awaited the fresh stream of information from his exploration of the craft. 

“What do you reckon?” Zeraphine asked as she strolled to meet him. “How do you fancy being the pilot for her first adventure to the stars?” 

“I would…” Despite his mind’s insistence on accepting the offer, he paused long enough to adjust his goggles and clear his throat before answering. “I think that honour belongs to you, commander. This is your ship, after all, and I feel that Amelina would have liked you to conduct the first trip.” 

“How about being my co-pilot, then?” 

His attention flicked up and lingered on the serene smile etched onto her features. Answering with a nod in affirmation, he traipsed to the other side of the ship to continue his examinations. 

“It’s impressive,” Hunter said, appearing from the rear engines and shielding his eyes to admire the upper stretches of the transport. “I’m sure you’ll get up to plenty of mischief.” 

He observed Wrecker, Crosshair, and Omega through the front cabin window. Memories of his sister’s first space voyage came to mind. He still remembered how her face lit up with wonder, and how she refused to blink in case she missed a single detail. And seeing her now with that same look of awe, Zeraphine’s words called to him.  

‘We were told what our futures would be like, but it doesn’t have to be that way for Omega.’ 

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been thinking about it. Thoughts of settling haunted him until sometimes it was all he could do to shake the image of a little house somewhere by the sea with no worries about how far their supplies would stretch or who they were going to have to fight next. No matter how hard he tried to push it out of his mind, recollections of their time on Pabu came rushing back, and he couldn’t help but think of the life they had rejected. 

“My last gift from Lina,” Zeraphine let out in a soft breath, catching the reflection of the shifting sands in the panels. “Now that I’m mended, I’ll get out of your hair.” 

“But you can’t go,” Omega said, swinging round the frame of the open stair hatch with an expression like a hurt loth cat. “Not yet.”

“I have to find my father and you all have business to attend to.”  

From the steps, Wrecker and Crosshair peered down at Hunter. Tech and Echo rejoined them, their faces stern and determined, and gave him a curt nod. 

The wordless communication between the clone brothers didn’t go unnoticed by Zeraphine. Mantle Squad had done the same. In certain situations, she’d spotted them exchanging brief glances, brown eyes widening, or narrowing, always passing unspoken words between them. They each knew what the other meant. And so did she. 

“I know what you’re going to suggest, Hunter, and we’ve talked about this before,” she told him. “I am not dragging you into my-”

“Zera, we want to help you,” the Batch’s leader said decisively. 

“But you’ve already done more than enough,” she insisted, nearing him with a plea in her moonlit gaze. It never failed to amaze her, the loyalty of clones and the lengths they would go to to keep that steadfast devotion alive. “My mission is incredibly dangerous.” 

Pressing the button on his holo-disc, Echo crunched over the dry sand and handed it over to her. Her father’s likeness shone from the wedge of neon light, long, greying beard and kind, violet eyes just as she remembered them. 

“If we do not offer the clones equal rights, what does that make us?” Kaller Viren said, as firm and astute as always. While his voice was low and gruff, Zeraphine had heard it speak only kind and determined words in his battle for justice and reconciliation. “They are living beings like you and I. Why should they not be seen as equals? They were created to fight our wars, and fight they did. Bravely. Loyally. We gave them little choice in the matter, a fact I have reiterated in this very hall countless times, yet each time it falls on reluctant ears. Not this time. The past cannot be altered, but we can decide on a better future for them now. Those men deserve to live out the rest of their days in peace with the same rights as every citizen of this new empire.”

“Senator Chuchi sent me this after I asked about your father’s disappearance,” Echo said. “I also asked Rex if he might have any information or contacts we could use to locate him. While he didn’t have any news on that front, he did tell me Kallar had provided him with a lot of resources to rescue other clones. Ships. Weapons. Food. Promises of safety on Phomina Nine. It was quite a list.” 

She understood why he’d done it. Why he fought so hard for the clone army. It was because of her, because of the fondness she held for her own squad. To him, they were sons. He had ensured they had their own rooms in his home and taken them on walks to his favourite places. He had asked for their opinions on certain matters and questioned them tirelessly on their interests outside of the war. Hearing of their passing, he’d spent days alone in mourning for them, grieving in the Phominian custom, as he was unsure how clones mourned for their dead. 

“Kaller Viren is helping our brothers,” Echo told her, shutting off the holo-disc and slipping it into his top pocket. “He is a part of our fight, and we don’t leave our own behind.” 

* * *

Every movement took on a life of its own. Fabric rustled and heels snapped, huffed breaths ringing in the vacant halls. Glass chimes licked the translucent walkways like a delicate symphony and led the way through Tipoca City in a glisten of twinkling notes. Boots stomped in unison and clones chatted, the occasional bout of laughter reverberating in the distance. 

Zeraphine recognised each voice of her squad. Their faces were etched in her memory, undeniably similar, yet each held its own unique traits.

They were so close in her heart their infectious amusement tickled her cheeks. But everywhere she looked, everywhere she stepped, an eerie, mournful emptiness infiltrated everything. Coiled grief mingled with the joyous mirth and she waded through the deserted city to the voices far away and long gone. 

They aren’t here, her rationality roared at her. Whatever this is, you’ll never find them. 

“Shut up,” she growled. “I will find them. I won’t let them down again.”

Curving walkways merged with cavernous corridors. The sounds grew louder with each passing moment, and once she’d located their direction, she broke into a desperate sprint. 

She could almost see them waiting for the caf machine to churn out another cup. Cleaning their weapons. Repairing the dents in their scratched armour. Slinging insults they didn’t mean and planning their next bet. 

In measured breaths, she extended her senses through the Force and followed the illuminated path in her mind. At the other end of the thread, home waited. Her thoughts raced with the possibilities of what she would say or do when she was finally with them again. She settled on bundling them into her arms like she used to. Although some generals and those of a similar rank disapproved of her behaviour, she never hesitated to offer them comfort, allowing them to speak to her as a friend and a confidant. And with Vesper… 

She wanted to hold him the most. In the depths of night, when the rain poured and her grief strayed on weary legs back to her time on Kamino, she wanted nothing more than to curl up close to her captain until the planet’s bleary star peeked over the watery horizon. Sometimes, she still felt his arms around her, remembering how he held her with a slight hesitation that thawed the moment she looked at him. 

‘Love breeds the strongest loyalty,’ her mother had once told her. ‘Never take it for granted. Cherish the love in your life, and it will cherish you in return.’

During those dark, hopeless moments, she’d found solace in the unwavering affection of those closest to her. Whether it was her mother’s protective embrace, her father’s comforting words, her sister’s empathetic ear, or her squad’s steadfast support, their love guided her to where she needed to be, whispering encouragement all the way.  

And it didn’t fail her. 

Bursting into Mantle Squad’s barracks, the raucous laughter came to an abrupt halt, and she took in the sight of the six soldiers she met often in her memories. Hayze spun to her with a toothy smile, and Vault’s gentle eyes widened in astonishment. Drift’s hands found purchase in his straggly dark curls. Kyrix and Lorn stared open-mouthed, and Vesper’s faded brown gaze greeted her with a warmth that could have melted an ice planet. 

As they approached, her eyebrows dipped and tears began to flow. Vesper halted. The calm sea outside boiled and lightning struck the waves. Long bulbs overhead blinked, and when they settled, his eyes bled. Deep red rivers ran down his cheeks and dripped from his stubbled chin. 

“Execute Order 66.”

The lacerating voice invaded the room with a bracing hostility, plundering every loving thought, and Mantle Squad locked onto their target. 

But Vesper trembled. Gun in hand, crying blood, knees buckling. Still, he summoned the nerve to aim his weapon alongside his brothers. 

“Run,” he begged. “Hide. Remember us.” 

Surging forward to help him, six shots rang out… 

And Zeraphine screamed. She screamed until the piercing wail woke her from her nightmare and her throat grated, snatching the glass weapons by her bedside. Rasped, primal growls escaped her parted lips, and steadying her breathing, she flicked the switch on the wall beside her. 

A warm glow ignited her new quarters. The wardrobe door remained slightly open, revealing the bare hangers inside, and the refresher pipes trilled. 

Breathe, she told herself. It was a dream. Just a dream. 

She sagged with exhaustion and propped her swords by the bed, dropping her head into her hands and releasing a gut-wrenching sob until her choked noises became hoarse. 

The crushing love within her ached. Ached to be with her family and her squad. The people she would never see again. Her connection to the Force did not bring solace, but instead, intensified her pain and heightened every emotion. 

A light gust from the ventilation played with her hair, and for the briefest of seconds, she swore she sensed Amelina in the room. That familiar, calming presence that never failed to put her at ease. At the most outlandish senate parties and in the fiercest battles, it was there. And it was with her now. 

“Hush, little sister,” she heard, distant and laced with compassion. A reassuring touch squeezed her shoulder, and she froze in place to avoid scaring it away. “Dry your tears. We love you and we are all with you. Stay strong.” 

#star wars #starwars #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #sw fanfic #sw fanfiction #star wars oc #sw oc #tbb #the bad batch #tbb fanfic #tbb fanfiction #the bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch fanfic #clone force 99

[brighter-by-the-daly]

Panini Swaps

This is all I’ve got to swap. Currently looking for Marta.

World Cup

Mascot

Ball

New Zealand

Rebekah Stott

Ria Percival

Betsy Hassett

Norway

Caroline Graham Hansen

Philippines

Logo

Sofia Harrison

Switzerland

Noelle Maritz

Ramona Bachmann

Australia

Mary Fowler

Ireland

Niamh Fahey x 3

Diane Caldwell

Heather Payne x 2

Abbie Larkin

Nigeria

Glory Ogbonna

Rasheedat Ajibade

Canada

Kailen Sheridan

Jessie Fleming

Christine Sinclair

Spain

Maite Oroz

Costa Rica

Maria Coto

Raquel Rodriguez

Shirley Cruz

Priscila Chinchilla

Zambia

Agness Musase

Mary Wilombe

Misozi Zulu

Barbra Banda

Japan

Fula Nagano

Saki Kumagai

Moeka Minami

Fuka Nagano

England

Rachel Daly

Haiti

Tabita Joseph

Claire Constant

Kethna Louis x 2

Melchie Dumornay

Sherly Jeudy x 2

Roselord Borgella

Batcheba Louis x 2

Denmark

Simone Boye

Rikke Marie Madsen

China

Wang Linlin

Yang Lina

Xiao Yuyi

Wang Shuang x 2

Beyond Greatness

Ana-Maria Crnogorcevic

Barbra Banda

Carolina Mendes x 2

USA

Logo

Lindsay Horan x 2

Vietnam

Logo

Nguyen Thi Bich Thuy

Netherlands

Victoria Pelova

Danielle van de Donk

Portugal

France

Jamaica

Havana Solaun

Brazil

Panama

Marta Cox

Erika Hernandez

Riley Tanner

Yenith Bailey x 2

Sweden

South Africa

Janine van Wyk x 2

Italy

Argentina

Germany

Logo

Lina Magull

Morocco

Ghizlane Chebbak

Colombia

Logo

Daniela Arias

Korea

Son Hwayeon x 3

#panini stickers #panini collection #panini #sticker collection #stickers #wwc 2023 #fifa wwc

[operafantomet]

Think of Me cadenza, with or without scarf

Silvia Luchetti, Madrid

Sibylle Glosted, Copenhagen

Maree Johnson, Sydney

Deborah Dutcher, UK Tour or West End

Julia Udine, Restaged US Tour

Sandra Joseph, Broadway

Emilie Lynn, World Tour

Lina Mendes, Sao Paulo

Colby Thomas, Hamburg

Sibylle Glosted, Copenhagen

#think of me scarf #elissa #phantom of the opera #christine daae #silvia luchetty #sibylle glosted #maree johnson #deborah dutcher #julia udine #sandra joseph #emilie lynn #lina mendes #colby thomas #think of me

[glassprism]

What If Scenario. The Pandemic never happened, but the renovations at Her Majesty’s eventually did. During that time, they put together a concert-like production of Phantom like they did with Les Mis in 2019. Who would you have cast in each part? Feel free to include Ensemble & Understudies

I think I answered something very similar before where I said that I'd love to have had an international celebration, with recent, fan-favorite, or long-running members from productions all over the world given an opportunity to perform and do, like, one song each, along with the then-current cast at the time. So I guess it might be something like:

Phantom: Josh Piterman (London), Ben Crawford (Broadway), Derrick Davis (national tour), Osamu Takai (Japan), Alexander Goebel (Vienna), Colm Wilkinson (Toronto), Peter Karrie (Canadian tour), Peter Joback (Stockholm), Ian Jon Bourg (Germany), Anthony Warlow (Australia), Henk Poort (Scheveningen), Juan Navarro (Mexico City), Hans Peter Janssens (Antwerp), Tomas Ambt Kofod (Copenhagen), Hong Kwang Ho (Seoul), Juan Carlos Barona (Madrid), Sandor Sasvari (Budapest), Saulo Vasconcelos (Sao Paulo), Damian Aleksander (Poland), Carlos Vittori (Buenos Aires), Marian Vojtko (Prague), Stephen Brandt Hansen (Estonia), Ivan Ozhogin (Moscow), Ilkka Hamalainen (Helsinki), Adrian Nour (Bucharest), Nikola Bulatovic (Belgrade), Vladimir Grudkov (Sofia), Jonathan Roxmouth (World Tour), Espen Grjotheim (Oslo), Ben Forster (Greece), Killian Donnelly (UK Tour)

Christine: Kelly Mathieson (London), Meghan Picerno (Broadway), Emma Grimsley (national tour), Sae Yamamoto (Japan), Luzia Nistler (Vienna), Rebecca Caine (Toronto), Teresa DeZarn (Canadian tour), Emmi Christensson (Stockholm), Valerie Link (Germany), Ana Marina (Australia), Joke de Kruijf (Scheveningen), Irasema Terrazas (Mexico City), Inneke van Klinken (Antwerp), Sibylle Glosted (Copenhagen), Kim So Hyun (Seoul), Julia Moller (Madrid), Barbara Fonyo (Budapest), Lina Mendes (Sao Paulo), Edyta Krzemien (Poland), Claudia Cota (Buenos Aires), Monika Sommerova (Prague), Maria Listra (Estonia), Tamara Kotova (Moscow), Sofie Asplund (Helsinki), Irina Baiant (Bucharest), Mirjana Matic (Belgrade), Vesela Delcheva (Sofia), Claire Lyon (World Tour), Astrid Giske (Oslo), Amy Manford (Greece), Holly-Anne Hull (UK Tour)

Raoul: Danny Whitehead (London), John Riddle (Broadway), Michael Maliakel (national tour), Kanji Ishimaru (Japan), Thorsten Tinney (Vienna), Laird Mackintosh (Toronto), Kip Wilborne (Canadian tour), Anton Zetterholm (Stockholm), Nicky Wuchinger (Germany), Alexander Lewis (Australia), Peter de Smet (Scheveningen), someone who's not Jose Joel (Mexico City), Michael Shawn Lewis (Antwerp), Christian Lund (Copenhagen), Son Jun Ho (Seoul), Armando Pita (Madrid), Zoltan Miller (Budapest), Nando Prado (Sao Paulo), Marcin Mrozinski (Poland), Nicholas Martinelli (Buenos Aires), Tomas Vanek (Prague), Koit Toome (Estonia), Evgeny Zaycev (Moscow), John Martin Bengtsson (Helsinki), Florin Ristei (Bucharest), Slaven Doslo (Belgrade), Denko Prodanov (Sofia), Matt Leisy (World Tour), Carl Lindquist (Oslo), Nadim Naaman (Greece), Rhys Whitfield (UK Tour)

Is that way too many cast members? Probably! Are there even enough scenes for each of them to perform together? Unlikely! Did I give up doing supporting, ensemble, and understudies because it was too exhausting? Definitely! Do I even know who some of these people are or if they want to come back at all? Not really!

But you have to admit - it's a huge and very international cast!

#GP gets asks #tomblr1895

[diegosouzalions]

Dentre as 3 dubladoras de pérolas que tem na série original (Sylvia Salustti, Jéssica Marina e Lina Mendes) Qual vc acha que combina mais com cada pérola? Incluindo também a pérola da Vauxite

Magenta: Sylvia

Peach: Lina

Lime: Jéssica

Cherry: Jéssica

Sun: Jéssica

Moon: Sylvia

Chocolate / Hope: Sylvia

Aquas: Sylvia

Cognacs: Sylvia

Smoky: Sylvia

Bi-Color: Sylvia

Gray: Sylvia

Silver: Jéssica

Golden: Lina

Vauxite: Jéssica

#diegosouzalions2023 #steven universe #ask #anonymous

[wheel-of-fish]

Would you also be willing to share your favorite Phantom/Christine/Raoul actors so we can look up clips? 😊

WHY YES I WOULD. Seriously, these asks are so fun and you have made my day. In alphabetical order (because ranking is too hard):

Phantom

Eiji Akutagawa

Earl Carpenter

Michael Crawford

John Cudia

Franc D'Ambrosio

Derrick Davis

Ethan Freeman

Davis Gaines

Alexander Goebel

Peter Karrie

Tomas Ambt Kofod

Laird Mackintosh

Gary Mauer

Greg Mills

Ivan Ozhogin

Hugh Panaro

Josh Piterman

Geronimo Rauch

Jeremy Stolle

Saulo Vasconcelos

Christine

Gina Beck

Rebecca Caine

Mercedesz Csampai

Sibylle Glosted

Julie Hanson

Tamara Kotova

Amy Manford

Ana Marina

Kelly Mathieson

Lina Mendes

Giulia Nadruz

Anna O'Byrne

Mary Michael Patterson

Beatrix Reiterer

Elizabeth Southard

Irasema Terrazas

Kaley Ann Voorhees

Lisa Vroman

Elizabeth Welch

Raoul

Steve Barton

John Cudia

Jordan Donica

Callum Francis

Alexander Lewis

Michael Shawn Lewis

Christian Lund

Sean MacLaughlin

Greg Mills

Jeremy Stolle

Jim Weitzer

Rhys Whitfield

Evgeny Zaycev

I'm probably forgetting people, and there are a bunch of other potential favorites (especially more recent cast members) that I need to watch again!

#phantom of the opera #(in)box five