#jack where art thou?

[madhatterbri]

Tomorrow is AEW Dynamite Eve. We must leave milk and cookies out for Jack Perry just in case he comes back.

@99hook @shawtys-things

#aew #jack perry #tony khan #please bring jack back #we need jack #jack where art thou? #jungle boy #jungle boy jack perry #aew jungle boy #jungle boy aew

[alexisnotstraight]

this is truly important information, Jack antonoff is gonna make his broadway debut in the play "wherefore art thou romeo?" he wrote the music (tbh honest im not sure if just music or also lyrics), rachel zegler as juliet and kit connor as romeo. its gonna come to broadway this fall

#also im not so sure if its a musical or not #jack is credited for music but no one is credited for lyrics so idk #dont forget that broadway does more than just musicals #but lets hope its a musical #rachel zegler is a singer and has been on multiple musicals including the 2021 west side story movie where she played maria #kit connor has been in the 2019 musical rocketman where he played young elton and singed in multiple songs #so i hope it is #i knew following broadwaycom on instagram would be useful at some point #im so exited just tryin to think of how the music will sound #so all this time jack was working on bleachers on the new look soundtrack on taylors new album snd on a fucking broadway musical???? #broadway #jack antonoff #bleachers #bleachers band #wherefore art thou romeo? #rachel zegler #kit connor #west side story #rocketman #lana del rey #dykttatuob #Taylor Swift #the tourtured poets department #ttpd #did you know that there’s a tunnel under ocean blvd #taylor swift #taylorswift

[teddydrawshockey]

Telling my kids these were the Soggy Bottom Boys, and PK was the guitar player <3

This song slaps SO hard, any time of day.. I won’t take no for an answer.

I apologize for this very niche post

#trevor zegras #jack hughes #cole caufield #o brother where art thou #soggy bottom boys #Spotify

[kermit-coded]

O Mother Where Art Thou?

batgirl (2000) // bethany webster, from mother wound healing: why it’s crucial for women // batgirl (2000) // enough, suzanne buffam // batgirl (2000) // h.d., from “envy” // fariha róisín, how to cure a ghost // batgirl (2000) // batgirl (2000) // james baldwin, from jimmy’s blues and other poems // janet fitch, from white oleander // batgirl (2000) // batgirl (2000) // clarice lispector, “excerpt”, collected stories (trans. katrina dodson) // batgirl (2000) // jack gilbert, “the abandoned valley” // batgirl (2000) // tomas tranströmer, tr. by robert bly, from a poem titled “track” // batgirl (2000) // batgirl (2000) // may sarton, journal of a solitude // batgirl (2000) // adonis, from selected poems; “a piece of bahlul’s sun” (tr. khaled mattawa) // batgirl (2000) // batgirl (2000) // neil hilborn, “a place where someone loves you” // batgirl (2000) // laura gibson, from “empire builder” // batgirl (2000) // anne carson, grief lessons

#my webweaving #web weaving #dc #batgirl #cassandra wayne #barbara gordon #cass cain #batgirl 2000 #cassandra cain #dc comics #mothers #girlhood #lady shiva #sandra wu san

[castiellesbian]

Buckner and Leming:

1x13 Route 666

7x05 Shut Up, Dr. Phil

7x13 The Slice Girls

7x19 Of Grave Importance

8x03 Heartache

8x07 A Little Slice of Kevin

8x15 Man's Best Friend with Benefits

8x19 Taxi Driver

9x03 I'm No Angel

9x09 Holy Terror

9x16 Blade Runners

9x21 King of the Damned

10x03 Soul Survivor

10x10 The Hunter Games

10x16 Paint It Black

10x21 Dark Dynasty

11x03 The Bad Seed

11x09 O Brother Where Art Thou?

11x18 Hell's Angel

11x21 All in the Family

12x02 Mamma Mia

12x08 LOTUS

12x13 Family Feud

12x17 The British Invasion

12x21 There's Something About Mary

13x02 The Rising Son

13x07 War of the Worlds

13x13 Devil's Bargain

13x18 Bring 'em Back Alive

13x22 Exodus

14x02 Gods and Monsters

14x07 Unhuman Nature

14x12 Prophet and Loss

14x19 Jack in the Box

15x02 Raising Hell

15x08 Our Father, Who Aren't in Heaven

15x13 Destiny's Child

15x19 Inherit the Earth

Robert Berens:

9x06 Heaven Can't Wait

9x14 Captives

9x19 Alex Annie Alexis Ann

10x07 Girls, Girls, Girls

10x14 The Executioner's Song

10x19 The Werther Project

11x06 Our Little World

11x14 The Vessel

11x17 Red Meat (with Andrew Dabb)

11x22 We Happy Few

12x03 The Foundry

12x07 Rock Never Dies

12x14 The Raid

12x19 The Future (with Meredith Glynn)

12x22 Who We Are

13x03 Patience

13x09 The Bad Place

13x10 Wayward Sisters (with Andrew Dabb)

13x21 Beat the Devil

14x03 The Scar

14x09 The Spear

14x18 Absence

15x03 The Rupture

15x09 The Trap

15x12 Galaxy Brain

15x18 Despair

#polls #writers tournament #supernatural

[straightplayshowdown]

Doctor Faustus: Yearning for infinite knowledge and questioning his faith, Doctor Faustus forsakes his scholarly studies for the world of magic and sorcery. He makes a pact with the devil. If the evil spirit, Mephastophilis, will serve him for 24 years, Faustus will bequeath the devil his soul after his death and spend eternity damned in hell. Despite warnings from colleagues, Faustus is blind to the terrifying extent of his actions until it is too late. Going on a journey with Mephastophilis and displaying his magic to a host of influential and important figures, Faustus finally realizes that he has come to the end of his allotted time on earth and learnt nothing.

The Importance of Being Earnest: Two bachelors, John ‘Jack’ Worthing and Algernon ‘Algy’ Moncrieff, create alter egos named Ernest to escape their tiresome lives. They attempt to win the hearts of two women who, conveniently, claim to only love men called Ernest. The pair struggle to keep up with their own stories and become tangled in a tale of deception, disguise and misadventure.

Propaganda under the cut!

Doctor Faustus:

Gay as hell (I wrote a 30 page senior thesis on this), beautiful writing, great if you're going through some shit and have christian guilt, then you can kin Faustus really hard

funny and also a great look at christianity and damnation. also faustus is gay for a demon 

It's about Christianity and damnation where Faustus is bored of academia because he's too smart so he sells his soul to the devil for magic. Then, he pranks the pope and is gay for his demon attendant. 

God this play is so good. A scholar, who's learned all he could of earthly things, sells his soul to the devil for magic. It's about sin, damnation, predestination. Is Faustus damned or is he damning himself? God it’s so good. Going to list some of my favorite lines now bc the writing is just so <33 

When Faustus asks the demon Mephastophilis how he can be here on earth when he's damned to hell, he says "Why this is hell, nor am I out of it. / Think'st thou that I, who saw the face of God, / And tasted the eternal joys of heaven, / Am not tormented with ten thousand hells / In being deprived of everlasting bliss?" which is just so true. Like god that conception of hell is so. Like yeah. Of course anywhere other than heaven would be hell when one has experienced heaven. God.

So many lines from Faustus questioning his choice and wondering if he should repent and if he were to repent would God even forgive him like "Why waverest thou? O, something soundeth in mine ears: 'Abjure this magic, turn to God again.' / Ay, and Faustus will turn to God again. / To God? He loves thee not: / Thou God thy servest is thine own appetite." Like the “To God? He loves thee not” gets me every fucking time bc he is SO convinced that he’s damned, he’s SO convinced that there’s no hope for him and that God does not love him. Like. And "Whither should I fly? / If unto God, he'll throw me down to hell.” Again, he’s absolutely convinced that there’s no hope for him. Even if he wants to repent, it doesn’t matter; God will turn him away. And "What art thou Faustus, but a man condemned to die?" And, god one of my favorite Faustus being convinced of his own damnation lines, "But Faustus' offense can ne'er be pardoned! The serpent / that tempted Eve may be saved, but not Faustus." Even the SERPENT THAT TEMPTED EVE may be saved, but not Faustus. Like?? He’s so convinced of his own damnation that he believes that even if the literal serpent who caused the fall of humans could be saved, he would still be damned. Like god. Also, this whole spiel after another scholar is like call on God and repent to which Faustus goes, “On God, whom Faustus hath abjured? On God / whom Faustus hath blasphemed? Ah, my God—I would weep, but the devil draws in my tears! Gush forth blood, instead of tears—yea, / life and soul! O, he stays my tongue! I would lift my hands, but / see, they hold them, they hold them!” Like god. He would weep but the devil draws in his tears and he is weeping blood instead. He would raise up his hands to heaven but he is being held down. And like the beginning. The “who am I to call on God? God whom I have abjured and renounced? God who I have cursed and blasphemed? Who am I to call on him? Would he even answer if I did? If I could?” Like god. It’s so.

And finally, my fucking absolute favorite lines in the entirety of the play, which technically fall under the Faustus repenting category, but deserve their own number bc I love this part so much. Background: These are lines said by Faustus in his final monologue, a monologue that really starkly resembles Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane. It is Faustus, minutes before the devils come to take his soul, pleading to God for the last time to have mercy on him. He says (bear with me this is long) “The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike, / The devil will come, and Faustus must be damned. / O I’ll leap up to my God! Who pulls me down? / See, see where Christ’s blood streams in the firmament! / One drop would save my soul, half a drop; ah my Christ— / Ah, rend not my heart for naming of my Christ; / Yet will I call on him—O spare me, Lucifer! / Where is it now? ‘Tis gone: and see where God bends his ireful brows! / Mountains and hills, come, come and fall on me, / And hide me from the heavy wrath of God. / No, no? / Then I will run headlong into the earth: / Earth, gape! O no, it will not harbor me.” So what’s happening here? Faustus is watching the time tick by before the devil comes to take him. He is trying to leap up to God, to repent, but he can’t; there’s someone pulling him down. Is it the devil? Is it himself? Who knows. Then, he sees Christ’s blood in the sky. He’s begging for it. For not even one drop, just half a drop; if he could just have half a drop perhaps he could be saved. That line btw, while it is only in the A text of Doctor Faustus (there’s two versions of the play, the A text and B text), is often still included in the B text editions bc it’s just that fucking good. Anyway. He pleads to Christ, something he is not allowed to do under his contract with Lucifer; he is not allowed to call upon God or Jesus or say any holy names. So when he calls upon Christ, he knows what Lucifer could do to him for it, but calls on him anyway, begging Lucifer to spare him. But once he invokes Lucifer’s name, the blood in the sky disappears. Instead, now all he sees is God’s ireful brows. So, he tries to take shelter from God in the earth, but not even the Earth will harbor him. It’s just so. Like god. And finally, at the end of his monologue, right before the devils enter to drag him to hell, Faustus cries, “My God, my God, look not so fierce on me!” a line which is just so. A blatant blasphemy of “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me,” this line is everything to me. Like god. It’s just so. God. 

Anyway, Doctor Faustus is fucking amazing and these aren’t even all my favorite lines, I have so many more and there’s so much more I love about this play, but this is already long enough. It’s just so good. It’s a meditation on predestination and damnation, it’s blasphemous, it’s wonderful. The writing is so good. I just love it so much.

The Importance of Being Earnest: 

Queercoded love interest and Victorian dandies, what’s not to love? 

Quite possibly the funniest thing I have ever read.

It's very funny.

there is a HANDBAG and it is a MAJOR PLOT POINT. jack pretends to be ernest because he's been doing it for ages and why not am i right? algernon pretends to be ernest to get a girl and also so screw stuff up. as one does. gwendolen and cecily have a REALLY passive aggressive tea party. this play slaps. it is so good. go read it and/or see it

“Nothing will induce me to part with Bunbury, and if you ever get married, which seems to me extremely problematic, you will be very glad to know Bunbury. A man who marries without knowing Bunbury has a very tedious time of it.” 

Lady Bracknell: “I do not approve of anything that tampers with natural ignorance. Ignorance is like a delicate exotic fruit; touch it and the bloom is gone. The whole theory of modern education is radically unsound. Fortunately in England, at any rate, education produces no effect whatsoever. If it did, it would prove a serious danger to the upper classes, and probably lead to acts of violence in Grosvenor Square.”

Lady Bracknell: “My nephew, you seem to be displaying signs of triviality.”

Jack: “On the contrary, Aunt Augusta, I’ve now realized for the first time in my life the vital Importance of Being Earnest.”

#polls #round 1 #doctor faustus #the importance of being earnest #the straight play showdown

[hoziernaturalevents]

Hoziernatural Recs: Gen Fics/Character Studies

Sign-ups for the 2024 round of the Hoziernatural Multi-Ship Bang are open, and people will soon be working to create a whole new batch of Hoziernatural content! However, for those of you who would like something to read between now and posting, we have some recs to fill that need 💚

Everything listed below is gen, but if you're a person of varied taste, then check out our Wincest, Destiel, and Rare Pair rec lists!

After The Raven Has Had Its Say by @spnyuri

Beta: @munchablemusic

Hozier Song: In a Week

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 5,008

Pairing/s: Castiel & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester

Warnings: Major character death, suicidal thoughts

Additional Tags: Canon Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Post-Finale, Unrequited Love, Panic Attacks, Memories

Summary: Sam is coping badly after Dean's death. Jack, unable to interfere directly, sends Castiel down to help him. They grieve Dean together.

Don't Let Me In by @gen-spn with art by @outofnowhere82

Beta: @hermit-writes

Hozier Song: It Will Come Back

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 6,691

Pairing/s: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, canonical character death, alcoholism, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unhealthy relationships

Additional Tags: Dean Winchester Character Study, Pre-canon, canon era, Stanford era, s15e20 Carry On

Summary:

Dean is always on the wrong side of the door, but he’s used to it by now. Not fitting the places life shoves him in.

The problem is when Sam’s on the other side.

(A character study inspired by Hozier's It Will Come Back.)

he feels no control of his body by @withthekeyisking-writer with art by @amberdreams1960

Beta: miajackswild

Hozier Song: Foreigner's God

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 8,117

Pairing/s: Gen

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Additional Tags: Sam Winchester's Bodily Autonomy Issues, Religious Sam Winchester, Character Study, Grief/Mourning, Self-Worth Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Linear Narrative

Summary: Sam Winchester has spent his entire life believing in things and people who never believed in him in turn.

Tame Your Demons by @withthekeyisking-writer

Hozier Song: Arsonist's Lullaby

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 2,027

Pairing/s: Lucifer & Sam Winchester

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Past Torture

Additional Tags: Episode AU: 11x09 O Brother Where Art Thou, Sam Winchester Says Yes to Lucifer, Lucifer Possessing Sam Winchester, Manipulative Lucifer, Sam Winchester Has Issues, Hurt Sam Winchester, TFW Your Abuser is Possessing You, Sam Has Cage Trauma, Open Ending

Summary: The deal on the table: say yes to Lucifer and be his ride out of the Cage, and in exchange get his help defeating the Darkness.

It's the absolute last thing Sam wants in the world. But he caused all of this, and they need to defeat Amara. They...need Lucifer.

when we begin again by @entropic-saudade with art by @outofnowhere82

Beta: @outofnowhere82

Hozier Song: All Things End

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 5,766

Pairing/s: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester

Warnings: Mentions of canon deaths/trauma

Additional Tags: Episode: s12e11 Regarding Dean, Temporary Amnesia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hugs, Accidental Cuddling, Broments

Summary: The spell Rowena uses in Regarding Dean doesn’t work right away.

Dean learns who he is again, with Sam by his side.

#hozier #spn #hoziernatural #spn gen fic #spn art #Castiel & Sam #Sam & Dean #Sam Winchester #Lucifer & Sam #rec list

[kiivg]

i looove the art u did of ur V in that hammock bed with the screens in the background and Jackie below, but what's ur V up to exactly? is he editing the recordings? whats his job?

.Tysm!!!! My V, Gianluca Vargas, is part of my 3Vs AU, so he’s not my main V canonically, but he’s probably the one I like playing the most because I get to run around in flashy suits and kiss Takemura 💋. My actual V is Gianluca’s ex, and Sunny’s half-sister (never going to play as her, I just need someone to be mean to Johnny, be hardcore pro-Arasaka, and then die at the end.)

.So his job is basically an AI (or digital idk) sex worker kind of thing, (idk if that’s what a Brain Dance is because they’re confusing af), where he basically controls a private area of the net that’s his own, and caters mostly to rich clientele. He has default programs that he’s made himself which the AIs run on and he can dip in and out to control them to make the whole situation more personal. On the picture he’s controlling LynchMO8 as his main, but he’s running three others at the same time, and recording BeccaMO6 for further purposes (maybe blackmail, maybe to sell on to others as a separate BD experience). Essentially, hardly anyone knows he’s the one who’s running the whole operation, and WHY would they, he’s a scumbag Valentino from The Glen harhar. Each one of the AIs has Cerdita tattooed however (that’s his left hand, which is basically an AI in its own right,) so it’s like his brand I guess? But I think I called his business Mañana Vices?

.Gianluca is also low-key obsessed with Delamain, and the way he controls and entire fleet of vehicles with little to no issue, (until the big old quest, which maybe I solely concentrated on so I could get all the dialogue of Delamain rediscovering everything again hehehe..) So he runs as many AIs as he can, and has five sockets in his head where he can jack straight into things. He’s never going to be Delamain (as much as he wants to be) but he’s going to keep trying.

.He’s definitely a skilled Netrunner, and the majority of his money came from hacking companies and stealing it, so he could support his sister as she went through the training to become a member of Trauma Team. But then he was like “Huh I LIKE money” so he just kept stealing. He is the one who does all the netrunning in my 3Vs, like he helps to catch the Peter Pan guy for River, helps to interrogate Anders before Takemura shows up, actually probably does 80% of Takemura’s questline because V is too busy elsewhere.

.The link with Jackie is literally that Jackie was really close to V, and she and Gianluca were mostly sweethearts growing up and then she went corporate, and now they’re just friends with benefits. Which is basically if she needs something hacking, she’ll just rock up and things go from there. So him and Jackie are like acquaintances, but they’re close enough to just chill out together every so often, I don’t think he and Misty get along though since she read his tarot and hit a little too close to home. Plus I like to think that Gianluca has a dad who’s sweet on Mama Welles hehehe.

.Anyway, on the subject of Gianluca, here’s a little kind of smutty thing of him and Takemura 👹💋💕. (Also I’m posting off my phone so maybe the formatting is awful.).

When the knock came at the side of his van, Takemura was quick to gather his weapon, finger hovering over the trigger, concealed within the darkness of his vehicle. His mind had slipped elsewhere, thinking through the realities of what they were planning to do, what they had to do, and how it could very easily go so wrong. He keeps his mouth closed, trying to discern footsteps from the heavy patter of rain, waiting for the intruder to either pass along or open fire. There was every chance it was a drunkard in the night, and every other chance that it was a bounty hunter seeking his head. He steadies himself as he had been trained to do, slowing his breath, slowing his heart rate. It had been done a thousand times before, waiting to strike like a viper in the shadows.

The knock appears at his window, a pale shroud of a man slapping a flat palm against the dirtied glass. He points with a finger to the locking mechanism with the same hand, his other raised above his head, holding a jacket aloft to keep himself somewhat dry. The man knocks again, more urgently, gesturing somewhat wildly to the rain that pelts him from above, before trying the door handle futilely. Takemura can see the man’s lips moving, glinting in reflected city light; but the words he could not hear.

It takes a moment, far longer than just a moment, for Takemura’s eyes to adjust to the way the lights of Night City dazzle upon the pale shroud, illuminating him in a halo of advertising pinks and purples, to recognise him; V’s netrunner. The one she has saved in her holo as “Gives Good Head”. A fact Goro had not wanted to know, and yet, it was a thought hooked into the back of his head every time he had seen the man. With a golden triangle tattooed onto plump lips, a set of golden teeth behind them, always fiddling with something; a cigarette, the nails of his organic hand, the straw of an ungodly sweetened drink he had already drank and thrown away, putting anything he could between those lips to keep them busied.

Takemura lets him in.

A button pressed and the door unlocks, he leans over to pull the handle, unlatching and leaving it open just a touch. His weapon is slipped quietly into his holster, safety back on, and he removes what debris he can from the passenger seat. Old papers from a previous owner, a corporate magazine with Yorinobu’s face plastered across it, the wrappers of several burgers he would not willingly admit to eating. There is a fumble as the man, Luca, climbs in, jostling a vinyl bag into Takemura’s lap, and slamming the van door behind him with a heavy sigh. The bottom of it is dripping with rainwater, no doubt left on the floor as he had tried to beg his way into the safety of the vehicle.

Gianluca’s cheeks are flushed, from the cold or the rain, but with the heavier breaths Takemura assumes he had been running. “Were you followed?” He asks, fingers pressed to the ignition. He glances in the mirrors, and then in the screens that show him the rear of the vehicle and the sides consecutively. Nothing but the rain and all that accompanies it.

“What? No, it’s fucking raining,” Gianluca gestures to the outside, “mierda.” He squirms in the passenger seat, attempting to swipe the rain from his impromptu umbrella-cum-jacket, soaked through, and trying to pull the fabric of his slacks away from where they cling to his skin, also soaked through. If Takemura was a man of lesser standing it would be hard to tear his eyes away from the sight, and yet, he doesn’t, knowing that would be far more suspicious than simply staring. Rather he replaces his confusion with a frown, silently chastising the younger man for his shuffling and wiggling as he tries to readjust himself into a comfier situation.

Gianluca was wearing white. Or a close enough colour to it. In the low light of the rearview screen it looks green, and when an advert for Us Cracks billows brightly above Night City it turns pink. Yet it remains white in Takemura’s mind; white slacks, white jacket, white shirt; all wet and now significantly opaque, offset with black and gold waistcoat, tie and shoes. And with a glance down, black underwear, visible now, thanks to the sudden onset of heavy rain. If the man notices Takemura staring, he says nothing, only settles in his seat apologetically, trying to steady his uneven breaths.

“I bought coffee, and food,” he gestures to the bag, a peace offering, a patterned red thing, “I figured you should stop trying to find Japan in Night City, so I got patatas bravas, empanadas, tamales, and churros, for after.” He takes foil lined boxes out of the bag as he speaks, shaking each one to hear the rattle of food before he discerns what it is. It does not go unnoticed that the churros are placed closer to himself than Takemura, the man’s incessant sweet tooth staking a claim on the sugary snacks. Each box leaves a small ring of steam on the inside window, fighting valiantly against the chill of the weather outside.

“I am not hungry.” Takemura lied, returning his gaze to the building opposite, thinking back to the task at hand, and not of Gianluca’s spread position as he plucks at the fabric between his thighs. From the way he sits, each inch of clothing is either a creased hill of bunched fabric, or a damp puddle of tattooed skin blended beneath a synthetic silk mix.

He glances back to Gianluca when the man lurches forward, tugging off the waistcoat and unknotting his tie. He hangs his jacket from the back of his headrest, the van rocking as he turns to check and see there was nothing back there that would cause it damage. His waist coat is next, and his tie is rolled up, held in his tight fists until water droplets run down into the cuffs of his shirt, and then placed on the shoulder of his seat. Part of Takemura wants to chastise the man for taking over a space that was not his, and the other part, the part which likes knowing the three words V had resigned the man to, likes watching tattooed hands run across the damp shirt, wrinkles smoothed, pulled taut and damp over hardening nipples.

“You don’t have to eat now, Takemura, but it’s good food, and I promised abuelita I’d, you know,” he gestures limply and without definition, grabbing the bag and setting the boxes back inside. He hesitates with the small box of churros, lamenting the treat he would have to leave in the hands of another man. It’s something to distract him, focusing on the smell of the food, and then the strong bitterness of brewed coffee as Gianluca pulls the decorated flask out. Without his optics he cannot smoothly translate the words carved in Spanish, but the small upturn of Luca’s lips tells him they were written fondly.

It’s more of a planned picnic than an impromptu dash around the streets for something that resembles a meal. Homemade, Takemura thinks, a twitch in his stomach that can’t decide whether to swell with affection or curdle with jealousy. His own grandmother had raised him as a child, before Arasaka, and he can see love in the way Gianluca handles the boxes, the flask, the way he pours coffee from it and into the small cups. Abuelita, he thinks, trying to conjure an image that would suit the title, trying to figure out how Night City had bred a woman who would give her fully grown grandson, a thief, a ganger, and more even, a perfectly wrapped meal and send him out on his way knowing full well that he had his own concealed weapons at hand.

The coffee itself is stronger than he would have liked, and it burns a trail down his chest when he drinks it. Gianluca himself, drops in three pill capsules to his own, and they fizz as they disintegrate, black coffee now swirling with little flecks of pink and blue. A puddle of the night sky held in his palm. He declines one of them when Gianluca offers, smiling to himself when the man drops the fourth in; muttering to himself about how it is only sugar.

It is more than sugar, V had told him when they had met in Tom’s Diner, concentrated and synthetically made. Absurdly sweet, to the point that it made her gag when she had first tried one. Gianluca split the pills himself, one capsule held the contents of three. Different flavours to make one overall combination of saccharine granules. An abomination, Takemura had thought, wondering how he felt as if he could now smell that over the bitterness of his own drink.

“You have told your grandmother about me?” Takemura asks, glancing back at the red bag, placed closely in the rear of the van. How much? He wonders at first; Saburo-sama’s failed bodyguard, an Arasaka outlaw, a rat from Chiba 11 who was given everything and failed his only purpose.

“No,” Gianluca says, sighing as he swallows a gulp of coffee, shrugging as the warmth blooms in his chest too, “well, just a little.” His smile is coquettish as he glances over, cradling his plastic mug in hand, blowing the steam as it rises to his lips.

“You should not have done this, anyone who knows-” Takemura starts.

“Is at risk, si, si, I said you’re a friend of a friend who’s a little run down.” His worries are not dissuaded off by Gianluca’s limp wave, nor by the way he shrugs out his admittance. “Anyway, she’ll be pissed if you don’t try some.” He points a thumb at the food, raising his brows in a way that relayed his message in all seriousness.

For a moment Takemura feels a pang of something in his gut, a slight worry over disappointing the faceless figment of a grandmother of the man beside him, over being judged by the same woman. The pang sets in the scales of his stomach, balanced out by Gianluca’s behaviour, which tells him that the younger man had spoken of him fondly enough that said grandmother had made him the equivalent of a packed lunch. Or perhaps she was simply like that, perhaps Gianluca was simply like that. Helpful; and in Night City? The words don’t sit comfortably together.

“A friend of a friend?” He asks, sipping at his coffee, watching the way Gianluca swirls his own by tipping his wrist, stirring the sugar as he pours himself a second cup. Personally, he didn’t believe that friend of a friend described him accurately enough. He wasn’t friends with V. Their relationship was one of purely business. She had seen what had happened at Konpeki, and Takemura needed her statement. There was little more to it.

But Gianluca, he hadn’t been there. Takemura didn’t need the man. And yet, throwing him from his van hadn’t even crossed his mind. Granted, his mind could easily excuse it; Gianluca was an exceptional netrunner, the man had skills and a certain know-how of a great many things that neither V nor Takemura knew how to do. Even V had explained to him, if there was a way of getting Gianluca to the parade float without danger, he’d be able to hack it without the daemon that Takemura had purchased, and he’d probably do it faster than V could upload it. But he was a coward, his chosen implants spoke to that, and was mostly useless in a firefight.

He would be useful in other, more specific ways, is what V had told him, as she had first shared his contact information. Not that Takemura had been tech savvy enough to be able to change the name of him, and with his pride and previous blunders, hadn’t asked anyone to help him to do so.

So he remains, Gives Good Head.

And if Takemura had to explain that to anyone, he’d struggle beyond what was reasonable. Because there would be no way for him to know either way, despite the flirtatious nature of the man, despite the way he mouthed at everything and anything he could. Takemura couldn’t simply just ask; and there sits the struggling thought, because he didn’t know what he would ask, specifically. If he questioned the title, then Gianluca would either have to lie, or be believed to be lying, or demonstrate if the monicker lived up to standard.

“You did not mention V?” Takemura asks, holding his dwindling cup out to be refilled, staring at the black liquid as it decants, eyes flickering from it to Luca’s hand, to the damp collar of his shirt, to the way his hair dries awkwardly around the face. He can see the soft whirring of cybernetics on his pupils, a dimly lit gold as he runs through whatever data breach he explores.

“Why would I? She doesn’t like her, she’s not making any of this for someone like V,” he offers another smile, plump lips pulled taut, “just accept the food, Takemura, not everything needs to be dissected.” He holds up his own cup, tapping it against Takemura’s, before downing it himself. He hums in undecided agreement, staring at the steam that rises from his cup. Perhaps it did need dissecting. If Gianluca couldn’t hack the float by himself, more or less even have a reason to do so, why was he still here? Bringing coffee and food like this was something else, as if they weren’t scouting for information on the parade floats, as if he was a friend of a friend.

From the corner of his eye he can see Gianluca readjusting himself, pulling at the crotch of his slacks, picking at the damp fabric. Thumb held behind his belt as he stops it from digging into his gut, trying to relax and ignoring the squelch of wet fabric against wet fabric as he moves.

He was handsome, Takemura knew this, Takemura had seen this. Takemura knew that Gianluca also knew he was handsome too. It had been easy to see the way he had flirted with those around them, with street food vendors and passersby, with the NCPD when they got a little too suspicious, a tilt to his hips, a wink, his tongue pressing against that golden triangle. Like a peacock, he thought. Brightly fanned tail feathers like a shield around him. Takemura held reserve on it all, trying not to think of the contact on his holo, trying not to look when Gianluca raised his hips to pluck his slacks from where they uncomfortably cling to his arse.

“You and V have a history?” Takemura asks. He already knew, her holo contact, but there was more behind it. Which meant there was more to all this, and Gianluca was wrong; this did need to be dissected. Because if she was paying him, then that meant she might be paying others, and that was an endless list of people who might know where Takemura was. And if not that, then blackmail, if V had something to hold over Gianluca, surely the man, coward or not, would find a way out of the trap she had set for him.

“Si.” He admits, thumping back down into his seat with a bounce, angling himself to the side so he could look at Takemura head on. He sits on one side of his hips, legs crossed at the ankles, his clothes were drier now. Still damp, still smelling of Night City’s rain water, but less see-through, whiter now.

“If there is more to this, then I would like to know.” Takemura explains, his voice lowering a tone, trying to convey the words he didn’t want to speak. “If it could affect what we aim to do.” He adds.

“Are you asking professionally or…”

“Yes.” He says quickly, not wanting to entertain the idea of this being anything but business. There had been many within Arasaka’s training camps who had felled their own training over a lover, over quick trysts in silent corners. Takemura had not been one of them. Where the urge arose he squashed it down, and when he couldn’t deny himself any longer, when his body thrummed with arousal and desire, when heat and sex and lust dropped off of him like sweat, like an overfilled cup of coffee, like rainwater off a white suit, he pushed it down again. Further, deeper, and restrained himself mentally in ways that would so often break other men.

Takemura had patience and willpower, an uncanny ability to simply deny the part of him that wanted to lose himself with another for just a few moments. A few moments back then would have cost him a lifetime, a few moments now; he dared not entertain, and yet-

“We had a thing back when we were teenagers, she was my first proper output, gave me my first blowjob a couple blocks from here,” Gianluca’s words fall so unapologetically from his tongue, wet and organic in a self imposed gilded cage of teeth, “she got a job with Arasaka, I stayed in the Glen, we fuck when she gets a little homesick.” Takemura has to chew on his own tongue, he was homesick, he was only a couple blocks from a couple blocks away, he was trapped in his own vehicle with a gilded man dripping onto the centre console, talking about fucking a woman, talking about giving head, giving Good head.

“And you two are…” He clears his throat awkwardly, unwilling to say the next words. Because Gianluca was beautiful, and V was beautiful, and Takemura’s hormonal balance regulators had been turned off along with everything else, and he had unwittingly grown used to them thrumming away in his body, limiting the things he had taught himself to deny naturally.

“Are you asking professionally? Because I’m sitting in your van, in this pinche clima, in this soaked suit, and compiling all the information I can get off the Arasaka compound; and I’m not doing it just to get that puta to ride my dick.” Gianluca inches over, leaner closer, lowering his voice from where it had been raised in disbelief and annoyance. “There are easier ways to… mierda, Takemura, pa ti. That’s why.” He jabs a finger in Takemura’s direction, pointedly enough that he looks down, and then back up into Gianluca’s eyes. Golden lines turning as he tries, fails, to connect with Takemura’s own disabled optics, a hitch in the download as he turns his gaze back to the building beyond them.

He readjusts himself again as he sits back in the passenger seat, and Takemura’s gaze does not flee his form, not immediately. Because perhaps he had fooled himself, and he was a lesser man than he thought he was, because now the only image in his head was V writhing in Gianluca’s lap, head thrown back, arched and panting and wanton and brimming with lust and decorated with sweat. And so easily does she fade, replaced by his own body.

A part of him laments the image, laments the desire to take Gianluca’s cock in hand and press it inside of himself, and so he turns back to the building in the distance. Because it should be the other way around, he should have Luca on him, his status would demand it. He could not debase himself in front of a lesser man, a younger man, to give his most intimate parts up so freely to someone like Gianluca. A larger part of him doesn’t care, because the images playing in his mind increase twofold. Of being inside of Luca, of being on top of Luca, of being underneath Luca, of being spread legged with wide tattooed shoulders under his thighs, and a mouth, lips tattooed, tongue organic, teeth gilded, pressed open against his cock.

“I knew it was going to rain, waited for it, even.” Gianluca whispers. A soft admittance under the patter of raindrops. And when Takemura turns he sees the man dissected, his reasons laid bare.

He had the foresight to bring a vinyl bag that wouldn’t crumple with the weight of water, and not an umbrella to save himself the same misery. To bring food that would keep its heat, coffee the same, enough to warm himself that he would need another reason to shed his clothes; his damp clothes, pale and sticky against darker skin. He had sat in Takemura’s van drenched in sheer fabric, tugging and pulling at it, guiding his gaze in a dance across his body, a display, an allure; hands pressed against his thighs, his groin, his chest, sat lower in his seat so his hips pushed up, black underwear a stark contrast to everything he was and wore.

With tentative fingers he pulls a glittering datashard from his neck, eyes settling to their natural colour, and offers it to Takemura without need for recompense. For you, pa ti. A compilation of what he had gathered from the compound, a gift to help with the sabotaging of the parade.

He is dissected. He is lain bare. He is dressed in raindrops and distant city light.

And Takemura kisses him.

He grabs the offered wrist and pulls him close, pressing chapped lips to Luca’s own tattooed ones. His breath is sugary, his tongue more so. Takemura claws his hand around the back of Gianluca’s neck, pulling him closer like a chained dog, fingers digging into organic flesh and cybernetics alike. He can feel the stubble of hair growth as he grips harder, pressing himself closer; encouraging, if not forcing the younger man to open his mouth fully and share what lays there.

The heavy thrum of his heartbeat is felt through his wrist, a rising thudding beneath Takemura’s fingertips. It sings in time with Luca’s desperate grunt, the sound of his rings clacking against Takemura’s own neck. And when he squeezes harder he hears Luca’s moan over the sound of raindrops, open mouthed and whining, stuttering as Takemura’s tongue pressed in against his own. He yields so easily to him, letting him grab and take and pull, pushing against him with the same ferocity, keening into the state of being devoured.

Gianluca bites at Takemura’s lip as he tries to pull away, following him with kisses to his cheek, his jaw, golden teeth catching against the cybernetics of his neck. He bites down where flesh meets metal, upper teeth scraping his jawline, decorating the plates with his tongue as Takemura groans into the open air.

“You planned this.” Takemura heaves, accusing him as if he hadn’t instigated the kiss himself, catching his breath deep in his lungs. Gianluca pulls back, only the inch that the other man’s grip would allow, and offers a shining smile, he licks his lips, that golden triangle, and nods.

“Si,” he whispers, “but it’s going better than I expected.” He laughs breathlessly, kissing at the hand around his wrist, laving his tongue against the metalwork, trying to pull the fingers into his mouth. He stares at Takemura all the while, watching those dark brown eyes fall heavy, how his jaw twitches as he grinds his teeth.

With a shuddering breath he releases his grip, and instead, points three fingers together, his fourth curled into his palm, and lets Gianluca take them into his mouth. He kisses them at the joined tip, lets the flat of his tongue drag across them. Lips press down towards the cuff of his jacket, and he inhales deeply. It must smell of synthetic leather and sweat, but Gianluca rises with a smile, nipping at the palm of his hand, of the bumps and callouses there. The edge of his nose pressed against the three fingers as he returns to his beginning, and slowly he nips at those too, opening his lips to take them to the first knuckle.

He grins around them easily enough, forcing his tongue between the trio, curling it, flattening it, letting his saliva coat the inch he has in his mouth. Takemura still watches on, knowing almost entirely what both of them are thinking of, using most of his restraint to stop himself from pressing his free hand against the throb of heat below his gut. His whimper is embarrassing as Gianluca takes the fingers in further, to the second, the third, until his lips are flush against Takemura’s knuckles, and the only thing stopping him from going further is the fourth finger he had not taken. He swallows. And Takemura can feel the constriction of his throat against his fingertips, and the way his cock throbs against the inside of his slacks.

Gianluca pulls off, ever so slowly, allowing Takemura to set the pace as he takes his fingers from between the lips, each one sticky with sugared saliva. It’s sinful, the sight of them, glistening in the lowlight, a match to his lips, damp themselves, and open with staggering breath. It’s mesmerising almost, the ethereal nature of it broken when the datashard is pressed against them; all the information he needs, the reason why they where both here, a veritable tower block against the sight of a flush-faced Gianluca.

“Touch yourself, Takemura.” Gianluca whispers, eyes flickering the to fingers he had swallowed.

“I am.. I am not sure.” He says lamely. It seems inappropriate, what he just did was inappropriate, Gianluca’s hands trailing down his own body, catching on damp wrinkles of his shirt, thumbs pulling open his belt buckle, the sound of his slacks zipper being pulled down, it was all inappropriate.

His internal conflict must be written plainly on his face. The way his eyes skitter back and forth, from his hands to Gianluca’s own, to the younger man’s glossy eyed appearance and down to his own lap; and back to the soft frown that graces Gianluca’s brows, and the sound of a zipper being tugged back up. The sound almost echoed in Takemura’s gut, like a pendulum that swung between regret and relief. He’d never had someone… do that before. Truthfully, he wouldn’t have even entertained the mere thought of it before, and had he done so, Arasaka would have noted the stimulation in his endocrine system and flagged it up to be reviewed, as they always had done.

That in itself came with a sickening feeling of relief. It felt dirty. It felt dirty to want to do what Gianluca asked of him. It felt dirtier to hear those words in his head, over and over, and wonder if he could just take a hold of his own sex in spit-slicked fingers, apologise, and ask the younger man to watch, to touch, to taste.

“Is it me, or… this wasn’t a transactional sex thing, you know,” Gianluca clears his throat awkwardly, swiping a hand back through his hair and muttering to himself, “qué cabrón.” He looks over at Takemura, still holding the datashard aloft in wet fingers, his cock half hard in his slacks, and a heat decorating his cheeks.

A moment sits between them in the lowlight. Neither of them quite knowing exactly what to do. Whatever intimacy had stirred between them had been stalled by Takemura’s hesitance, and with each glance between them, fleeting, nervous, like two deer stuck in each others headlamps, it stalled again.

“Let me…” Gianluca says, turning in his seat to grab his pocket square and pluck the shard from Takemura’s fingers. He takes Takemura’s hand in his own, wiping away the excess saliva he had left, distracting himself by semi-detailing the metal work across his knuckles. “Listen, I can walk home,” he drops the datashard into the empty ashtray, “and, that’ll probably need to be filtered through, I can recheck the guard rota the day before V goes in just for extra safety, might even throw in a weaponry jammer if any open fire on the night and-“

“Gianluca.” Takemura says, halting the man in his stumbling words. He doesn’t know what he is going to say, nor how he intends to speak it in forced English. Instead he turns his hand in his own, bringing the organic knuckles to his lips. The kiss is chaste, less so when he reaches over to press against his lips. “I will drive you home.” He opts to say, knowing that it is merely a delay tactic, and one that is foolish in itself. The small smile at least is worth the detour, even if the words are abstract from their meaning.

With a press of a button the van splutters to life, rattling in protest of not yet being allowed to die its death. And he waits until Gianluca has tossed what remains in their cups from the window, and replaced the flask in the patterned red bag, before he moves off from their location.

The navigation system pings to life, a sultry female voice telling Takemura to take a right in so many kilometres, and congratulating him with flirtatious laughter and innuendo every few commands. An echo of the previous owner’s taste, and one that fully wilts any desire that might have been thriving in Takemura’s mind. “You, uh, you chose her, ¿si?” Gianluca asks behind a closed fist, stifling his laughter. Takemura fixes him with a stare, his face unmoving even as the navigator compliments him on his driving.

It is enough to settle the tense atmosphere they had both created. Even as Takemura’s shoulders grew tighter with each command. At the very least it had been a short drive, and the patter of rain had died down to a slow drizzle. It didn’t, however, give Takemura the time he needed to figure out what the plan for this was. Because he has seen Gianluca knocked back by some of those in Night City, and he had always brushed it off with a grin. Perhaps it was because this was private, because it had just been the two of them. And he didn’t know if it was him by himself, or the lack of onlookers which changed it.

With a wanton moan their navigator announced they had arrived at their destination, and Takemura happily punched enough buttons to shut her off, and then the ignition.

“Try the food, Takemura, it’s good, prometo.” Gianluca says with a reassuring nod. It’s enough to stop Takemura from saying, or doing, anything particularly foolish. He taps his fingers against the ashtray, a quiet reminder that Takemura still had work to do, and plucks his discarded clothing from the back of his seat. “You have my contact, right?” He asks faltering as he grasps the handle, hearing the click of the van door opening. He nods silently, thinking back to the name in his phone, back to the way he had swallowed his fingers. Takemura didn’t know whether to thank V or curse her for those three words of sexual wisdom.

Gianluca lingers as he clambers out, his clothes folded over his arm, a dazzling white now he stood under the city lights. He hovers a moment, chewing on the inside of his lip as if the words he wants to say fail to form on his tongue. Takemura wants to say something himself, but find no words can actually help him in this situation. And were it some soppy screamsheet nonsense, he imagines he might have kissed him farewell, but that was not life in Night City, not for Takemura. No, life for him was watching Gianluca step away, shut the door, and hurriedly enter the apartment complex he lived in.

Takemura punches the ignition button again, waiting for the van to regrettably sputter back to life before pulling away. He had work to do, and he was hungry.

#goro takemura #male v #cyberpunk 2077 #answer #mxm #fanfic #gianluca vargas #takemura x v #v x takemura

[eretzyisrael]

by Jack Engelhard

So this time it’s not 1,000 for one. Well, that’s an improvement. This time it’s 150 Arab terrorists in exchange for 50 Israeli hostages.

To some, that’s considered a win. Hey, look, we didn’t cave completely, only partly.

Did you get back all the hostages in this deal? That would have been something. But you didn’t. Abraham was also a lousy bargainer. Maybe that’s where this starts.

Frankly, I had intended to write something upbeat, especially when my IDF brothers in arms are fighting like lions inside the belly of the beast. (My guys were the Navy.)

But like you, dear reader, I am so damn depressed. Literally, where’s the light at the end of the tunnel?

I hardly hear any talk of victory any more. Mostly, the talk I’m hearing is about those “innocent Gaza civilians” and how Israel’s NUMBER ONE priority is to keep them safe.(Not Netanyahu and the government, thank G-d - they promise to go on to the end of Hamas and called its leaders "dead men walking" just last night.)

That’s the ballgame?

Secretary of State Antony Blinken thinks hardly about anything else, which is why he keeps traveling to Israel…to press the point.

There he is again this week…also to put the squeeze on Israel for “the day after,” which is a column for later.

He’s getting ready…with Biden, and the State Department…to swamp Israel ought of existence through another two-state solution, only this time with MORE land for the Arabs.

You heard that right. More land and THIS TIME they will be happy campers. Blinken is betting on this, with Israel’s money.

Which Israeli government will push back and resist? Or will it always be back to square one?

I am not confident. History tells us that leftist elements in Israel are always ready to concede for the “sake of peace in our time.” Per Neville Chamberlain.

Will it constantly be the same merry-go-round?

Nor can I forget the peaceniks who gave us Oslo, and the man, Ariel Sharon, who brought us to this pass when he gave this good Jewish land over to the Arabs. Hence, Hamas.

In earlier columns we proved that there are no innocent Gazans. They are all the same. One part does the killing, the other part does the cheering.

Dear Israel…how often will you let them play you like a fiddle? The enemy seems always a step ahead of you. Certainly the case Oct 7. Thereafter, as well.

We’re supposed to be so smart. They never produced an Einstein, and we have won 214 Nobel Prizes to their ZERO…all for what, when it comes to our survival.

Yet so often they outsmart us. We’re told that the 150 terrorists being released are really good terrorists. Quite harmless. Yet among them, we are learning, there exists car rammers, knife stabbers, suicide bombers, and outright murderers. BUT…they have been koshered by the government because they are only 99.9 percent like Hamas, not 100 percent. They did not succeed in their plans to murder Jews.

So, as of this writing, the deal is on…that is, for this group of 50…200 more to go.

Why art thou downcast O my soul? (David)

Because I know what’s coming. Hamas is going to drag this along for two years…one gift at a time…five, 10, maybe 20 hostages incrementally.

I so terribly hope I am wrong.

They can play this game down to one hostage left to taunt us with a Shalit all over again.

Meantime, the IDF will be stymied, the leadership, stalemated.

Let it not be so.

Hamas has this all figured out. Do the Israelis? How is it that Hamas gets to call the shots? Yes, Israel should have insisted on the release of all the hostages at once.

Or else, fire and brimstone of Biblical proportions. It’s what Churchill would have done…and did. Victory at all costs.

After all that, there is this: my niece Miriam, whose children live in Beer-Sheva…anyway, Miriam sends me the talks given by the Rebbe.

I listen to them every day…and they do uplift, give strength, and optimism. There shall be no despair. Israel…the Jewish People…will prevail.

Heck, I’m trying to be upbeat. Work with me.

#arab terrorists #hamas #gaza #hostages #idf #israeli hostages

[incarnateirony]

prydain parallels aka cas forsakes his powers to marry dean??????? maybe a reach but 👀

Kinda, not quite. It's more that Cas already made that sacrifice (and ironically became Much More during it, but didn't know it at the time). If you check my Marriage of the Minds tag, or pretty much any of my art or garden tags, you'll see that the plot of season 15 was something called the alchemical wedding. There were two near instances (15.09, 15.13-- one cancelled, one proverbial proxy jack) and then the actual moment 15.18 for Cas, but Dean really never got his beyond Not Who I Am and I'll Try To Live For Him/Them. And at least telling his little brother he was proud of him and loved him, that kind of qualifies but was really just a plug for the plot checkbox, because that's not new, he's said it before, and that's not what Berens' plot was leading to (but I'm not about to get back into Singer's fuckery.)

You may want to also check my occultum tag, because of 15.13. You'll see in my Art tag that the occultum is actually pulled from that card, which represents that alchemical union.

The "loosely translated, in order to be in the occultum, the occultum must be in you" was quite cute, actually. They put it in Enochian so Cas had to read it, even if the original was in Latin, which is why Billie and Sam had that. THATS LATIN FOR HIDDEN RIGHT. where is it. I DONT KNOW. ITS HIDDEN.

It was in fact VERY LOOSELY TRANSLATED in the like "alchemy for dummies model" 

Visita Interiora Terrae Rectificando Invenies Occultum Lapidem

“Visit the interior of the earth, and by rectifying what you find there, you will discover the hidden stone (philosopher’s stone)”

So let me shorthand what that means again in a new post, then direct you to the aforementioned tags. (cut for length)

OK so in alchemy there's a whole spiritual quest of breaking down your bad stuff and becoming a good clean pure self, but purity isn't christian purity. It's the mastery of the self without fear of a christian god to condemn you or whatever. You Do You, Do What Thou Wilt (and harm none) Shall be The Whole Of The Law.

In alchemy think of Earth as Body. So Visit Inside the Body, and by Rectifying what you find there, you will find-- The Perfect Soul.

That's what that means. Or, in order to be in The Garden, The Garden must be in you. Which is why Cas' plot was all like, learning to speak his open truth and let the light in. The Moon lets the sun Shine On Her Face To Become Full.

Part of the process--again, deeper coverage in my tags per subject--involves the death of the Empress which--another tag to check--is where Cas landed in his path, with the Mary, Rowena, and Amara parallelism, right down to the blossoms and pink shit of death and the gift to be lost if not appreciated. (both Cas and Dean shared that, while Sam avoided that light, Jack only got hit by it before his rebirth in-episode and missed it after.)

That same episode also placed: Joseph-Dean, Mary-Cas, Christ-Jack where the two halves of Mind and Soul, (*mortal) Life (*actually mind/grace) and Being (*soul, still) marry, passing the Philosopher's Stone as a seed from Emperor (dean gets it first, via Bobo correction note from the script), then Empress (Cas) then the Aeon Child (Jack). It's a matrimony forecast.

Unfortunately, the Empress is considered to die in the process, whether in birth, after birth, or just the passing of the old generation before the new. The process talks about returning to The Black Womb By Which All Life Springs. Gonna let you rattle that around in your head a bit.

But Cas reached in. He let the light in. He let himself love outwardly, not fear judgment. From God or Dean or anyone. He let IN the light Dean showed him. He took in the shadows humanity cast too. The Shadow, the thing that rules the Empty. In that moment, Castiel integrated with The Infinite Vessel of Death (to not explode) while taking on both all the light in humanity (his unending love for Dean, and a reflection of Dean's own love for the world) and accepting its shadows and what it hides away, just like his own.

If you venture into my Heaven tag, and discussions, you'll find that like. Heaven, as we call it, is basically the World Soul. Human souls, the grigori said in Angel Heart, are slices of heaven and angels since the dawn of man have made them make mental heavens to distract them. To keep them in contentment, like Nihilism, even if that same void of repression was beyond it just like the Empty.

Because really, The Empty and Heaven are the same place. It's Not Being, Not Having Soul, Not Letting In The Light; vs Being, Just Saying, Just Being Yourself, And Accepting it.

The occultum is powerful--a key, they said. it's not a place or a thing. It's a key. It's a key to the Kingdom of Heaven, and the secret Chuck hid away all along is that it's always been the soul and humanity. That serpent that talked to his first gabriel-esque barbies, and taught them what Good is (the soul, as the Absence of it Isn't Evil in alchemy, just like Cas said, but the Absence of Good; the human soul is the one true thing, everything else is a matrix of commentary we're put through).

Chuck mentioned a beauty and glory in creation greater than his pride or ego waiting to be born, like he and amara just were. He knew she'd seen it, and felt it, and looked at Dean.

One day a sleeping Nothing went TheFuck (why) do I exist, chuckmara popped up, Chuck made a playbox with toys in it, some toys met a snake, got a soul--that snake is just. The Shadow in the world of Chuck's Mental Box Of Perception, Awake. It's the Let There Be Light before the sun, of the true creator, the living soul of man in its rawest form, and that's why Jack got his soul back THERE even when Chuck couldn't. Chuck just made the sandbox. We play in it.

So Cas thought he was giving up his everything, his very being, for his love of humanity but in doing that, basically unbirthed The World Soul the way Rowena did hell via Death. Cas became heaven, and that's where the Castiel's Uterus joke is from, and why the Akrida are a triple threat joke in three languages of locust, garden and a complicated birth that could cause death.

You know. I Cared About The Whole World. John and Mary's love saves The Whole World. Turning over all the cards at the end, and the final card: The World.

The Whole World waits for us, and what is Dean's Whole World. What is keeping him from reaching peace in the garden, what is he looking into his parents as he crosses past timespacesoulstuff, as the light tries to call him home. What regret--like the ones that haunt Rowena--is keeping him from being At Peace With Himself. What is he not Being yet. What does he have to Say, or Do, to be able to reach Heaven Proper, where all his family is, what does he have to do to stop disconnecting himself like the monsters in the Winchesters morals, to lift the fog on his path and find his garden, his roadhouse, his family.

Cas already made that sacrifice. And with it, Castiel is calling him home.

Come home, hometown hero.

the main thing is the Taran Wanderer parallels, not anything from The High King. eg the hero's journey is over so let me look into my parents and learn a few things about myself on the way.

#the end #spnwin #meta #occultum #marriage of the minds #empress #emperor #art #the world #heaven

[brideprincess5a1]

Tell me which ship that includes my Rebecca Simpson OC, you want to see my best art of.

1. Sideshow Bob X Rebecca

2. Krusty X Rebecca

3. Milhouse X Rebecca

4. Moe X Rebecca

5. Mr. Burns X Rebecca

6. Principal Skinner X Rebecca

7. Sean Bont X Rebecca

8. Apu X Rebecca

9. Barney X Rebecca

10. Blake Black X Rebecca

11. Bode Wright X Rebecca

12. Chief Wiggum X Rebecca

13. Colin X Rebecca

14. Jack DeForest X Rebecca

15. Frank Grimes X Rebecca

16. Superintendent Chalmers X Rebecca

17. Ol' Gil X Rebecca

18. Hank Scorpio X Rebecca

19. Hubert Wong X Rebecca

20. Ralph X Rebecca

21. Jacques Brunswick X Rebecca

22. Jimbo X Rebecca

23. Professor Frink X Rebecca

24. Julio Franco X Rebecca

25. Karl (Simpson and Delilah) X Rebecca

26. Lenny X Rebecca

27. Luke Stetson X Rebecca

28. Sideshow Mel X Rebecca

29. Ned Flanders X Rebecca

30. Nelson X Rebecca

31. Brenden Biederbecke X Rebecca

32. Nick (the Daughter Also Rises) X Rebecca

33. Stonecutter Number One X Rebecca

34. Otto X Rebecca

35. Grady X Rebecca

36. Lucas Porter X Rebecca

37. Snake Jailbird X Rebecca

38. Thelonious (Trilogy of Error) X Rebecca

39. Troy McClure X Rebecca

40. Freddie Scorpio X Rebecca

41. Lionel Hutz X Rebecca

42. Hugh Parkfield X Rebecca

43. Dr. Nick X Rebecca

44. Cecil Terwilliger X Rebecca

45. Fat Tony X Rebecca

46. Edmund (Tweenlight) X Rebecca

47. Reverend Lovejoy X Rebecca

48. Todd Flanders X Rebecca

49. Walt Warren (the Bob Next Door) X Rebecca

50. Willie X Rebecca

51. Bart X Rebecca

52. Herbert Powell X Rebecca

53. Homer X Rebecca

54. Jack Lassen X Rebecca

55. Artie Ziff X Rebecca

56. Jack Crowley X Rebecca

57. Dwight Diddlehopper X Rebecca

58. Mr. Bergstrom X Rebecca

59. Freddy Quimby X Rebecca

60. Comic Book Guy X Rebecca

61. Bleeding Gums Murphy X Rebecca

62. Cletus Spuckler X Rebecca

63. Disco Stu X Rebecca

64. Larry Burns X Rebecca

65. Officer Eddie X Rebecca

66. Hans Moleman X Rebecca

67. Mayor Quimby X Rebecca

68. Michael D'Amico X Rebecca

69. Bartigula the Jerk (I, Carambus) X Rebecca

70. Dr. Marvin Monroe X Rebecca

71. Wayne Slater (The Falcon and the D'ohman) X Rebecca

72. Billie Joe Armstrong (Green Day) (The Simpsons Movie) X Rebecca

73. Kent Brockman X Rebecca

74. Carl Carlson X Rebecca

75. Langdon Alger (Simpsons Comics) X Rebecca

76. Charlie (Oh Brother, Where Bart Thou?) X Rebecca

77. Portuguese Boy (A Totally Fun Thing Bart Will Never Do Again) X Rebecca

78. Peta (Dry Hard) X Rebecca

79. Pita (Dry Hard) X Rebecca

80. Martin Prince X Rebecca

81. Kirk Van Houten X Rebecca

82. Blake (Three Dreams Denied) X Rebecca

83. Corey Masterson X Rebecca

84. Dolph X Rebecca

85. Donny (The deBarted) X Rebecca

86. Digby Diggs (Diggs) X Rebecca

87. Kevin (Stealing First Base) X Rebecca

88. Zachary Vaughn (Bart Gets a Z) X Rebecca

89. The Rich Texan/Richard Texan X Rebecca

90. Rainier Wolfcastle X Rebecca

91. Marv Szyslak X Rebecca

92. Michael De Graaf X Rebecca

93. August Steffan X Rebecca

94. Homer Simpson (Not It) X Rebecca

95. Erik X Rebecca

96. Moe Szyslak (Not It) X Rebecca

97. David (Treehouse of Horror XVI: Bartificial Intelligence) X Rebecca

98. Roger (Treehouse of Horror XXI: Master and Cadaver) X Rebecca

99. Hugo (Treehouse of Horror VII: The Thing and I) X Rebecca

100. Vampire Burns (Treehouse of Horror IV: Bart Simpson's Dracula) X Rebecca

101. John (Homer's Phobia) X Rebecca

102. Mike Wegman (Go Big or Go Homer) X Rebecca

103. Lyle Lanley (Marge vs. the Monorail) X Rebecca

104. Roger (Every Man's Dream) X Rebecca

105. Devil Flanders (Treehouse of Horror IV: The Devil and Homer Simpson) X Rebecca

106. Harry Potter (Treehouse of Horror XII: Wiz Kids) X Rebecca

107. The Fat in the Hat (Treehouse of Horror XXIV: The Fat in the Hat) X Rebecca

108. Reaper Homer (Treehouse of Horror XIV: Reaper Madness) X Rebecca

109. John Frink Sr. Robot (Treehouse of Horror XIV: Frinkenstein) X Rebecca

110. Mutant Burns (Treehouse of Horror VIII: Homega Man) X Rebecca

111. Hansel Bart (Treehouse of Horror XI: Scary Tales Can Come True) X Rebecca

112. Noir Homer (Treehouse of Horror XXXI: Into the Homerverse) X Rebecca

113. Dracula (Treehouse of Horror XX opening & Treehouse of Horror XXI: Tweenlight) X Rebecca

114. Stephen King (Treehouse of Horror XXIV opening) X Rebecca

115. Vampire Bart (Treehouse of Horror IV: Bart Simpson's Dracula) X Rebecca

116. Dr. Bartley (Treehouse of Horror XV: Four Beheadings and a Funeral) X Rebecca

[fairyreblogs]

you can literally make poetry out of jack shit. im fucking deranged and made a poem almost exclusively out of quotes from Oh Brother Where Art Thou Songs, Act 1 Scene 5 of Hamlet, and 3 different people's translations of the opening page of Homer's Iliad and the Odyssey

Sing, goddess, Wither wilt thou lead me?

Where Art Thou, Where Art Thou,

Mine brother revenge bound.

Devastation, it pains ten-thousandfold.

O Goddess, anger be now your song.

Sing in me, Sing in me,

Mine brother wandering.

Recklessness, it prays to show the way.

Sing, my lord, The man of twists and turns

Mine brother, my brother,

Return to all that’s gone.

Sorrowful, I can search no further.

Immortal muse, my hour is almost come.

I am weary, let me rest,

My race is nearly run.

Lonesomely, I ask Him for His son.

Prophetic soul, through me tell the story.

Most guilty, Most guilty,

At bedside with remorse,

Forgiveness, It spares my brother’s soul.

anyway im not even a little religious, PLUS, I DONT KNOW WHAT ITS

FUCKING TALK ABOUT

#poetry #except its midnight and im INSANE #odyssey #homer #shakespeare #hamlet #illiad #oh brother where art thou #FUCK IS THIS #from the drafts

[callisto-sykes]

TOH SPOILERS FOR THE FOR THE FUTURE PROMOS

So I just finished watching the new promos for the owl house and here are a few things I noticed:

In the trailer

- Lilith with short hair and it’s back to it’s og color that’s a slay but she’s crying over hooty who is a Jack in the box and I’m not prepared for that honestly I am also curious about how her hair got shorter my theory is that is has something to do with escaping the collector considering we know she and hooty were together at the day of unity so they probably experienced the collectors take over together

- raine is a puppet all the coven heads are also puppets but I’m focusing on raine because it also appears that eda is about to fight them. Edas hair is shorter and she is feathery, I’m going to assume it’s because she hasn’t had any elixir because she’s been captured at the day of unity and the reason she’s not a puppet is because of king and possibly because of the owl beast if it turns out the collector created the curse. king is also holding onto hooty watching in the corner. There are a few signs around saying keep out and beware of beast probably referring to the owl beast that eda has recently detransformed from so that makes me think maybe eda is escaping and has run into raine and the coven heads who are going to stop her from leaving. This looks like a good opportunity for a parallel to follies at coven day parade. And if I wasn’t already devastated about raine being a puppet I am hysterical at the thought of a fight between raeda.

- bump being captured is another devestating moment JUSTICE FOR PRINCY B but the other teachers have also been captured so the hexside students are in there own hope they’re ok

- the owl house graffiti probs from the emperors coven because it says so. maybe the owl house was a base for survivors for awhile because the graffiti wasn’t there in oh titan where art thou also one says there is no titan which definitely suggests that it was written after belos betrayed the isles. Also I love the parrel of the very first episode with luz saying welcome to the owl house it’s absolutely heartbreaking

- the hand. My immediate though was Caleb. So I think we’re getting a new grim walker that belos will possess like hunter especially because of the goopy look of the relatively normal hand and I have to say I’m excited to see how grim walkers are made but also utterly terrified :)

- amity’s face she’s obviously at hexside because of the background and i just find it so funny that she still so judgmental

- belos’s cave. it’s really cool to see that he managed to lock it with glyphs that’s really cool but also BAD BELOS BAD DO NOT MAKE ANOTHER GRIMWALKER

- HUNTER PROTECTING WILLOW she’s reaching for someone and Hunter is pulling her away and I think I know who it was from another promo which I will discus later. But let’s just think about the huntlow moment for now pls

- wtf is Mattys new look wtf I deadass laughed for so long when I saw it lmao. But I will admit it might be an homage to Steve which makes me laugh slightly less

- a battle in the detention pit. the wall of eyes is a give away but amity is slaying

- a scene where they pull some of luzs memories out from what I can see it’s grom and Phillip and I don’t think where ready for camilla to find out about all of that but I am hoping for an eda memory not just traumatising ones but there is an explosion that happens so maybe they go to the detention pit for safety??? But I really hope the memories will be ok and that luz isn’t trying to erase her memories on purpose

- then there’s a scene with the collector and king flying in the same street as the hex squad was in so maybe that’s why they are running that also confirms my willow theory from the other promo. This could mean king knows luz made it back to the demon realm and that leads into a theory from another promo

- Camilla fight scene slay

- eda turning into the owl beast at the end definitely confirms my previous eda was captured as the owl beast theory

Collector promo:

- the first thing king wants to do when he gets back with the collector is wanting to go see the owl beast I’m really happy he knows all his family is relatively safe and maybe he will help her escape and tell her luz is back if he knows :)

- MUM ODALIA LMAO RIP ODALIA GET WHAT U DESERVE no she’s actually miserable and I’m so happy she’s tryna make the isles her kingdom and the collector just wants pizza bagels. Also keen to find out why he calls her mum odalia?

- now my willow theory. The collector has Brought back more puppets? That’s what I’m going to call them and lone and behold willows dad is one of them. The puppets are the same from the street scene which suggests willow saw her dad went to reunite with him but ended up watching him be turned to a puppet and Hunter had to pull her away. I am very very very sad like actually sobbing but let’s think of the huntlow moment my friends THE HUNTLOW DO NOT START CRYING PLS

The Camilla and luz promo:

- I don’t have much to say not much to analyse all I can say is this probably happens pretty close to the start but Camilla is such a good mum like she really wants luz to stay their even though she doesn’t t like it

Yup so that’s my analyses of the promos LESS THAN 24 HOURS TO GO GUYS AHHHHHHHHH

#the owl house #for the future #toh eda #toh lilith #toh king #toh hooty #toh collector #belos is a bitch #mum odalia #TOH luz #toh raine #toh raeda #follies at the coven day parade #oh titan where art thou #toh camila #huntlow #less than 24 hours to go

[ben-the-hyena]

''puss in boots 2 made strange world its bitch proving ppl dont want stories where the conflict is intergenerational trauma but really just want classic villains'' that's such a ridiculous take, you can't compare the two

strange world was given barely any promotion by disney, that's why it's not popular and why so many ppl dont even know it exists. meanwhile puss in boots 2 had 1) a shit ton of promotion 2) it comes from a loooong franchise, shrek, and is a SEQUEL so obviously it was more anticipated and popular. so if you're basing that claim on popularity and reactions then....idk maybe compare it to encanto which was actually extremely popular ??

and like, pretending ppl just want classical villains is just incorrect- many do, but have you seen the amount of ppl who were happy about movies like encanto, turning red, and strange world utilizing different themes (intergenerational trauma, capitalism, metaphors to climate change and how people react to it in malicious ways, etc) instead of having a classical villain?

idk i just feel like you're getting unnecesarilly pressed about this. why are you so upset about great movies talking about real issues and focusing on that instead of focusing on a mad scientist trying to destroy the world or whatever

Because enough with movies especially cartoon movies that HAVE to be deep and psychological all the way with the antagonist who is actually a misunderstood baby and everybody needs to go to a therapist, it used to be fresh now it is overdone and unoriginal and moralizing everywhere it feels like watching a therapist session not a movie. And Disney has been doing that for a decade now and no magter how that shit called Encanto was popular it did not help much its company since it is losing in popularity a financial say and even already looking at a new strategy. However Puss in Boots ? It HAS psychology and a deep message, BUT it is also FUN with an ACTUAL FUN villain and doesn't believe itself pretentious, original and smarter than thou, they do have a redeemable villain yeah but is she really a villain, to be fair ? I repeat, Jack however makes that Disney trend to be "more realistic and smarter by having ALL our movies metaphorical without pazzaz anymore or it wouldn't be realistic in a magic world" its bitch. People want variety. People want something fresh. It was alright to have a few times a free therapy session through a character, but not all the time, now give actual entertainment or if you do give therapy give it with fun and not just "boohoo sowwy I was absolutely awful but I have an excuse" and "I HAVE TO RELATE TO ABSOLUTELY EVERY CHARACTER OR THIS MOVIE SUCKS" every fucking movie. Some people love fictional assholes for what they are or character who are drasrically different and go watch movies for adventures, and don't need to be reminded everytime of real life issues ALL. THE. TIME. Both kinds of movies can and MUST co exist, it must not be JUST one and not the other (it used to suck to have just evil villains and when Disney started to make redeemable deep ones who are not truly villains but miscommunication or situation are it was super fresh and welcome, to me too), and Disney has kept doing only one these days whereas Dreamworks has done BOTH in ONE movie which is a genius move and which is why despite all its promotion which sure did help (and let us be honest : I remember not a lot were thrilled by the trailer because it had Perrito pass as an annoying sidekick, some purists didn't like the animation and art change and some thought it was an unnecessary cashgrab sequel), it also had success because we both know promotion doesn't mean everything and a lot of movies were good or bad surprises throughout history. People are tired, people want to relax and people want novelty (which is ironically older)

#ask #anon #moi #movie #strange world #puss in boots

[briosca-sa-speir]

Dia duit! Could i ask for a brief explanation of the vocative case as Gaeilge más é do thoil é? I'm in school rn learning Gaeilge and yet I've never heard of the vocative case before lol. Slán agus go raibh maith agat!

Dia 's Muire duit a chara!!

I know I'm terrible at explaining things, maybe you've already encountered it with a different name, or maybe you've used it without knowing it was a grammatical case! I'll try to be as clear as possible but I'm far from being a linguist, so bear with me!

In modern Irish there are three main grammatical cases: the nominative/tuiseal ainmneach which is by far the most common case, the genitive case/tuiseal ginideach and the vocative case/tuiseal gairmeach. There is a fourth case as well, but afaik the dative only survives in a few set phrases (such as in Éirinn instead of in Éire, and so on).

In a nutshell, the vocative case/tuiseal gairmeach tells you how to inflect words used to address someone or to attract their attention, similar to how the genitive/tuiseal ginideach is used to indicate possession (and a few other things). It's probably the easiest case to recognise:

Mam, could you please.. How are you, Jack? Doctor, what should I... O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou...

All the words in bold are vocatives (or, in the vocative case). Unlike English though, in Irish they undergo three main changes:

1) similar to the English ‘ o’ in ‘o Romeo’, in Irish the principal marker is the vocative particle ‘a’. Unlike English though, it's mandatory and it doesn't really add any poetic effect.

2) lenition of the first letter if the first letter is a consonant (whenever possible):

cara -> a chara Máire -> a Mháire Niamh -> a Niamh

3) slenderisation of the final consonant of masculine nouns. Lots of words to say that if a masculine noun ends in a broad consonant (that is, if the final consonant is preceeded by the letters ‘a’, ‘o’ or ‘u’), the letter ‘i’ is inserted before that consonant, so that the pronunciation changes a little:

Aodán -> a Aodáin Séamas -> a Shéamais Seán -> a Sheáin

(there are a few exceptions and one is with terms of endearment, where you have masculine vocatives that don't undergo slenderisation of the final consonant, i.e. ‘a rún’ and not ‘a rúin’, ‘a stór’ and not ‘a stóir’, ...)

If you're interested and want to get a better understanding, here's a couple of links!

Bitesize Nualeargais

#hope this helps ♡ #bosca poist #gramadach #gaeilge

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“A flocculent dust on the feather pliant”)

A flocculent dust on  the feather pliant  and pebbles blue, that theres  not stay: in 

solitary their smooth, and  I must beyond  this, sudden leave me,—for  it came 

upon the middle air?  When will her  soothed linen, smooth calm and  azure hue, ready 

more, – dungeons may cease to  me the streams stead  of flesh in a minute  slothful? 

And moon: - ethereal  breakfast. — and cold snails  The rose-bloom of temperd,  out him, as 

one Phœnix shall be time  I was, And  the bliss to all.  will be loves, 

her gazd, but ye shall not  that dream there with  joy oerflows, when  thee, severe, then laughs 

and doubloon, but thou wast the  cozy parlor, thats  feeding pain. Did I learned  at they never, 

never could I been worth  in mans art a wander,  meal of thine, from that  Urne.  So our 

dwelling. Heaven ambrosial;  and hot-blooded clenched  fish were not think that through  winding curls blown back 

the sexiest to  make a merry friends.  Of grief, or to  clouds the 

proof of dirt is a  moon she knew not wait? A  waterfall. Endymion said: “ I would break out in 

the cry that the  powers that made  purple mist have knows poor lonely  men in Feavers 

but all violets upon  his tongue, and walk  with dangerous  tears froze to 

spit out all human  face deform; as are  amazd, but some hither kisses :  thereon our 

green, in five most  joyfully. Are flowery  lawns, and, feeling thousand  jumping-

jack pajamas in  heaven had sunk to  my chin for their jewel- sceptres vain 

and calendars, do you knowst  to me, all eat whispers  done, shoulders, and  so hell be times 

declaring; good-morrow- day; her once more, not  exhilarate. And close  secret place 

where you believe me; careless  as fears, keen beyond  ears, those coolest  waters wi thee; that 

did steady view, that  attempt with heavens  airy voice, Godhead so these  very goddess-like. 

and pluck the little  ones moan. She kissd his own  depths of her soaring ill  pressure, but, ‘Alas!’”

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #133 texts