#but also kind of fun to revisit

[brother-emperors]

‘Is there a point to any of this or do you just want to see how much more I can take?’ snaps Crassus. ‘Oh, I knew there was still some bite left in you,’ says Cethegus, thrilled. Cethegus teaches Crassus the art of politics and the ways of business. Sulla is not a fan.

Sulla: the Last Republican, Arthur Keaveney

Crassus, Catilina, and the Vestal Virgins, Ronald Syme

Sulla: the Last Republican, Arthur Keaveney

[hide-your-bugs-away]

martha checks in with her two semi-divorced dads ☝️

[icewindandboringhorror]

There's always a slight yearning in the back of my mind wishing I had been born in the right place, time, family situation, income level, etc. to have just lived in one single house for my entire life. Imagine being born in a place that still suits you, even through all of your personal evolutions and etc. The idea of deep familiarity with an area because you've lived and explored it for 40+ years, being encased in a web of memories and connections. Being able to clean out your old childhood bedroom and find personal artifacts, to dig in the yard and remember. I know those lives can still be plenty imperfect, but there's just something so seemingly solid and stable and Grounding about it that I sometimes wish I could have.. (At least from my outside perspective as someone who's moved around a bit geographically and even within the same area, never lives in the same house/ apartment /etc. for more than a few years usually.) Like... having a place that is printed upon, fully your own, rather than chronically a visitor, every thought of a space always tempered with the notion that one day soon you'll have to pack it all up again, etc. There's something peaceful about the permanence.

[084392]

a morgrem character i wanted to revisit she was raised by hatterene and likes things quiet, morgrem also collects some of the flowers that she helps grow bc it helps her relax :)

[tswwwit]

Has fam!Bill ever landed on a talk show or got interviewed, or has someone atleast made a movie/series/novel about him or his life with dipper?

I'd think that Dipper tries to keep Bill out of the spotlight. Partly so it doesn't feed his enormous ego any further - and partly so Bill doesn't try starting a cult. For like, the millionth time. He's a little too persuasive when he gets public attention.

There also exists a case - probably many decades along, once Dipper's out of his first life - where there is a movie/series/novel.... about Dipper.

Of course Bill's there. You can hardly have a story about Dipper Pines without at least vaguely addressing the demonic power subject - but in this one, Bill's cast as sort of a demonic sidekick. Unable to tempt the righteous Dipper Pines from his heroic cause. Bumbling, and awkward.

Used for comedic effect.

You bet your ass Bill's absolutely fuming about it.

[tennessoui]

a “stay til the dawn” epilogue

a christmas present for @anakinsthot at the request of @sexysymphony

short and sorta sweet epilogue of sorts to my king obi-wan au, where anakin crashlands on stewjon, loses his memory, and falls in love with king kenobi who makes everything a lot more difficult than it has to be

(3k)(hinted nsfw, but not really anything explicit)

Tobias has never looked more happy to see him, and they routinely get together for drinks at the King’s Pub in the Garden district to root for the Coruscanti waggleball team, decked out in Coruscanti scarlet in a crowd of unfriendly Stewjoni green.

“Ah, Toby, you’re looking well today,” Anakin reaches forward and up—and up—and up—to clap the palace guard on the shoulder of his armor.

“And you’re a sight for sore eyes, milord,” Tobias replies, offering his hand to help Anakin out of the speeder. “If I may say.”

“Say away,” Anakin chirps, jumping down to the ground and peering up at the Gargantiolan. “It’s nice to be missed, even if—“ he checks the comm unit on his wrist “—I’ve been gone less than three days.”

“My joy will pale in the face of the king’s, I assure you,” Tobias says, reaching one long arm into the speeder and retrieving Anakin’s pack. “I will see this returned to your quarters, Prince Set.”

Anakin wrinkles his nose, his immediate reaction to any suggestion that he stand on ceremony.

He may have married a king, but that doesn’t mean he particularly respects all the traditions he’s now beholden to. 

As a Jedi Knight, he never would have been greeted upon his return to the Temple, nor would he be excused from the tedious task of disengaging and storing his own speeder. 

Even as a war general, there had been little ceremony he had observed. He and his men were equal in all but their titles, and he had striven to make sure every soul in his company knew that. 

But his new job, his new title can’t be bucked off nor ignored for the very simple reason that no one will let him.

The Stewjonians are an obliging yet obstinate sort. Much like their king, who they seem to adore above all else. 

As Anakin feels the same way about King Kenobi, they have a lot in common, despite the way every Stewjonian who sees him insists on treating him as if he’s made of fine, delicate, ornamental transparisteel. 

“Fine,” he says with the smallest of sighs. He learned as a general that all battles could be fought, but some were not worth the effort, so predictable was their end. “Would you happen to know where our King is, if he has missed me so?”

Tobias raises four of his six eyebrows. “Can’t you feel him in the Force?” 

“No,” Anakin barely resists the urge to pout, which would be very unbecoming of a Prince Consort. “He’s blocked the bond.”

Something Obi-Wan only does when he’s angry with him, Anakin doesn’t add. 

At least Obi-Wan knows better than to cut himself off from the Force all together. The one and only time Anakin had made him furious enough that he’d slipped on Force suppression cuffs and disappeared from Anakin’s mind, Anakin…hadn’t reacted well.

Now when he’s grumpy—indignant, Anakin, perhaps scorned. Kings do not feel grumpy—he blocks their bond as if he’s simply locking a door, instead of deliberately locking Anakin out of the warmth and comfort of Obi-Wan’s mind, his very soul. It’s almost worse like this, but at least he knows he’s alive, can feel a quiet humming at the end of their bond. 

“Perhaps the healers have used your absence to push the king into attempting a more traditional form of a healthy, Stewjonian Force bond.” 

“I was under the impression such things do not exist.”

“Aye, I’d say that may just be why he blocked it then,” Tobias points out, but at Anakin’s dark expression, he quickly raises all four of his hands in his defense. “I’m only jesting, milord. He’s holding court today, I believe, given your continued absence. If you’d like to wait in the glass gardens or in the painting gallery, I’ll let Aislaen know to tell the king you’ve arrived.”

“No need,” Anakin waves his hand, already turning towards the palace’s front doors. “I know where the throne room is. I’ll let him know myself.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Tobias says, but Anakin is taking the stairs two at a time, pushing himself faster than humanly possible with the Force in order to reach his husband quicker. 

Given his continued absence—the absolute nerve of Obi-Wan! He’s been gone for two and a half days! He hadn’t even left the damn planet! What Obi-Wan has to be grumpy about, Anakin doesn’t know.

The throne room is one of the first rooms in the palace when one enters through the grand entrance hall. Obi-Wan had insisted on it being so, something about openness and accessibility.

Anakin has never liked its location, maybe because he’s not one to read metaphors into architecture. What it feels like to him, having the throne room only a corridor away from the mouth of the palace, is a security risk.

But at least now it’s convenient. 

The guards at the door know better than to block his entrance these days, though he breezes past them almost before they can drop into the customary bow.

The throne room is almost full, people from the capitol city taking advantage of the king’s need for distraction to come and give him problems to solve while he waits for Anakin to return.

Or whatever he does when Anakin is away.

The room is small enough that Anakin can see Obi-Wan as soon as he steps in. The king looks resplendent seated on his throne, cape carefully folded around him, the blue and green color of his outfit standing out against the dark wood of the seat.

The Stewjon people are not those who value gold and jewels and overt symbols of power; this is something Anakin respects.

But Force, would his king look beautiful decked out in the regalia other planets pile on their monarch. 

Anakin strides forward to stand at the back of the line leading to the King’s dias. Stewjonian citizens line the halls, but the line itself is relatively short. Though it is fairly late in the day, so maybe Obi-Wan has been seated here for hours already. Anakin would know if his stubborn husband would just unblock his side of their bond and let him have access to his mind. 

He looks tired, Anakin decides as he shuffles forward and can see more of the details of his king’s face. There are shadows under his eyes, and though he is careful to give each person before him his full attention, Anakin can see him drooping with the effort of it. 

If he weren’t being so pissy, Anakin would use his princely privileges to march forward and drag his king up to their private quarters for a nice soak in their indecently sized bath. He’d even wash his hair for him and push him back onto their bed to ride him to completion. He wouldn’t have to do anything. Anakin would look after the both of them.

But Obi-Wan is angry with him about something, and he’s decided to block their bond, and Anakin can’t reward that sort of behavior, not when he feels as though he needs that bond to breathe. 

So instead of running his hands through his king’s auburn hair and stretching himself wide enough to take the sizable intrusion of Obi-Wan’s cock after three days of abstinence, Anakin is standing here. In line in front of his king. Ready to complain like everyone else.

Two people away from the front of the queue, Obi-Wan looks up from the woman in front of him—complaining about some sort of imagined cheese monopoly in the Lower Colsteph district that’s been affecting her sales—and locks eyes with Anakin. 

He tenses all over, shoulders straightening and eyes shuttering.

For a very scary second, Anakin is terrified that he’s actually done something quite terrible and he’s just forgotten. 

Can a person have selective amnesia twice in so little time? 

But no, he’s been gone for the past couple of days on an excursion Obi-Wan himself approved. 

It’s perhaps a measure of how much the people of Stewjon love their king that the person ahead of Anakin follows Obi-Wan’s line of sight, sees Anakin standing behind him, and immediately removes himself from the situation. 

Though to be fair Anakin doesn’t know what his face looks like right now, his own anger rising in his stomach at the sight of Obi-Wan’s aloof, diplomatic expression aimed in his direction.

The nerve.

“There was a line,” Obi-Wan points out blasely as Anakin moves to stand before him. 

“And now I’m in the front of it,” Anakin replies. “Won’t you hear my grievances, King Kenobi?” 

Obi-Wan’s eyes flash. “I’ve half the mind to dismiss the court. It’s been a long day already, sir.”

“Oh, yes. It must be very exhausting, sitting around in comfortable furniture for hours at a time. But I’ve flown all the way from Olijon to see you, sire.”

“How flattering,” Obi-Wan replies. “But careful, sir, I’m a married man.”

Anakin bears his teeth. “As am I. As it were, my husband is who I have come to complain about.”

The crowd of Stewjonians shift around Anakin, giving him a fair amount of space.

They’re very smart people, the Stewjonians are.

“Oh?” Their king asks.

“I seem to have married the most stubborn, most uncommunicative Stewjonian the Force has ever created. He would grind his teeth down to the quick before he let slip his own emotions unprompted.” 

“Hm,” Obi-Wan says. 

“For example, I believe he is grumpy with me at the moment, though I’ve had to piece together his anger as one may piece together fragments of a broken mirror: the image is imperfect, unclear, incomplete.”

“Hm,” Obi-Wan says. “Perhaps if you looked into a mirror, you would find the source of your husband’s ire.”

“Oh, don’t you dare claim my metaphor for your benefit—“

“Apologies, darling. I am a king. It is what we do.” Obi-Wan leans forward on his throne and looks down at Anakin, resting his hand on his chin.  “Let me ask you something.”

Anakin narrows his eyes and crosses his arms.

“How long have you been married to this terrible husband of yours?”

“I didn’t say terrible—“ Anakin starts to protest before the words freeze in his mouth. “Two years,” he says instead, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Exactly?” Obi-Wan asks, arching an eyebrow.

Anakin swallows. “To the day,” he admits. “Ah, fuck. But Obi-Wan, I—“

Obi-Wan stands with a swirl of his cape. “Then I suggest you rush back to Olijon post-haste. After all, I’m sure you want to spend your anniversary outside of court, with your love. I, for one, would have.”

Final judgment passed, he turns on his heel to exit through the side door.

Anakin, of course, will not allow this to happen. He uses the Force to hold the door shut as Obi-Wan presses his palm against it.

When Obi-Wan turns to look at him, nostrils flaring and real fury flashing in his eyes, Anakin inclines his head. “Court dismissed,” he prompts.

Obi-Wan clenches and unclenches his jaw before he waves his hand. “Court dismissed.”

There are murmurs of both protest and relief as the people around them start exiting through the main entrance, one Anakin throws open with another flick of his hand.

“And guards dismissed as well,” Obi-Wan snaps at the same time Anakin opens his mouth to remind him. He sends a wave of appreciation towards his husband in the Force, but the king is more blocked off than ever. 

When the throne room is empty save for them, Obi-Wan stalks back to sit on his throne as if this whole thing has been his idea. He crosses his left leg over his knee and rests his hands on the armrests of his throne. “Well?” 

“You let me forget our anniversary,” Anakin says, which doesn’t feel like the best foot forward at the very beginning. But it’s true. “You should have told me not to go on the trip to Olijon. It could have waited.”

“I’m not in the business of telling my husband what to do or not do,” Obi-Wan replies, as if he doesn’t take great joy from ordering Anakin around in bed.

Anakin’s raised eyebrow must convey this skepticism, because Obi-Wan huffs. “That’s different,” he says, crossing his arms. “That’s…pleasure. This is…”

When he doesn’t continue, Anakin takes that as an invitation to stride up the dias into his husband’s personal space. When that doesn’t feel close enough, he doesn’t hesitate to clamber into his lap, forcing Obi-Wan’s body to accommodate him.

“What is this, my liege?” Anakin asks, wrapping his arms around his neck.

Obi-Wan looks torn, shields weakening. They’ve never been in an argument yet that hasn’t petered out when Anakin shortens the distance between them.

“This is duty,” Obi-Wan says resolutely, even as his shields waver. “You needed to go to Olijon because as the prince and an accomplished engineer, Prince Set was expected to inspect the latest transport rig there. That was your duty. And mine was to let you go.”

“But you’re grumpy with me,” Anakin points out, shifting closer and bringing up one of his hands to start playing with the ends of Obi-Wan’s bangs, which just stick out under the weight of his crown.

Maybe this is what causes Obi-Wan to melt into him. Maybe it’s his pout as he does it. Maybe it’s just that he’s missed him as much as Anakin has missed being here with him. 

“I’m not,” Obi-Wan mutters, dragging a hand over his face before he settles it against the small of Anakin’s back. “Not least because kings do not get grumpy.”

Anakin snorts but doesn’t say anything. He does rock forward pointedly though. After all, if they can get through this conversation, nothing is stopping them from…celebrating their anniversary right here in the throne room.

“I have a duty to my people as their king, and in marrying me you have taken on a part of that duty. I cannot keep you away when you are called upon, no matter the day. I…” Obi-Wan‘s eyes catch with his and he curls his hand around the apple of Anakin’s cheek. “It’s silly to be upset that you have taken so well to the duties I have burdened you with.”

Anakin blinks at him, slowly processing his words.

“I may have a reputation for being a bit forgetful,” he tells his stupid husband, nuzzling forward until their foreheads touch and he can stretch to place a kiss on the thin bow of Obi-Wan’s upper lip, “but I do believe I married a man. Not a planet. If my memory serves me correctly, in fact, we weren’t even on Stewjon when we were married. And I believe I have never taken on Stewjonian royalty vows as prince consort—“

“That’s because you keep hiding in the woods whenever we try to schedule a cerem—“

“Which means, my very stupid and melodramatic husband,” Anakin braces his both his hands on his shoulders and leans back so that he can look him in the eyes. “That my duty first and foremost is to you, and it always will be.”

Obi-Wan huffs and shakes his head slightly, automatically. 

“Baby,” Anakin shakes his head back. “I left my family, my friends, my entire way of life thousands of parsecs away just so I could be with you. Duty means nothing in the face of love. Not to me; not when it comes to this love.” 

His husband exhales rather shakily and twines his hand through Anakin’s hair, hauling him forward and connecting their mouths.

Anakin has been waiting for this since his ship landed back in the boundaries of Stewjon proper. He angles his head and opens his mouth at the lightest touch of Obi-Wan’s tongue to his lip, granting him access he never truly has to ask for.

It’s his already to do with as he pleases. Anakin is his to do with as he pleases, and he tries to make sure Obi-Wan understands that as he deepens the kiss, lets his hands fist in the front of Obi-Wan’s shirt as he rocks down in his lap.

Obi-Wan groans when Anakin sucks on his tongue, tightening his hold on his hair and forcing him into a better position. Kissing his husband is always an amazing experience, but after being deprived of his kisses for a few days, it feels like there’s nothing better in the world than the slide of their tongues, the sound of their breaths, the taste of Obi-Wan bursting on his tongue.

Anakin wants more. When it comes to Obi-Wan, he always wants more.

It takes the slightest nudge against Obi-Wan’s mind for his shields to waver and fall to Anakin, and he wastes no time at all reclaiming his space and refreshing their bond. 

The Stewjonian healers had warned them both about bond sickness and unhealthy attachments, the Stewjonian impulse to possess and cling. But Anakin and Obi-Wan’s bond is strong and healthy,  a meadow filled with soft, dappled light. Nothing at all like the thorny, overgrown path that the healers had painted in Anakin’s mind.

And if they were ever to convince Obi-Wan to sever their bond under the guise of his duty demanding it, Anakin would kill them. Simple as.

Greedily, he wraps himself in the tendrils of their open bond, separating their mouths to pant against the side of Obi-Wan’s neck.

After a second to catch his breath, he starts licking and sucking at the skin beneath his lips.

Two years. It’s been exactly two years since they were married beneath the Fei’luka sun. 

“You’re the most difficult man in the entire galaxy,” Anakin murmurs, sitting back to look at his husband. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes are dark, pupils blown.  Anakin can feel the swell of his cock beneath his ass. It would be incredibly easy to sink to his knees right here, lift up the cloth of Obi-Wan’s kilt, and take that cock into his mouth. He knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Obi-Wan would let him. That Obi-Wan would enjoy it. 

He’s enjoyed it before, spreading his legs to allow Anakin’s shoulders to fit between them while he lounges on his throne.

Stewjonians despise opulence yet love ceremony, and their king is the same. His throne is simple treated wood, masterfully carved yet lacking the adornments others affix onto their physical seats of power. Yet Anakin has always thought that Obi-Wan gets a special sort of enjoyment from Anakin kneeling before him on his throne, though he’s never gotten him to admit it.

Anakin certainly enjoys it, the weight of his cock in his mouth and the inescapable press of Obi-Wan’s hand against the back of his head, his liege and his king and the best damn choice Anakin has ever made exacting pleasure upon him as he takes his own as well.

“Darling,” Obi-Wan groans, “a little restraint would be much appreciated.”

“How can I practice restraint when all I can think about is the way you touch me? How good it feels. How very right. Two years of it, but Force, Obi-Wan. Force, how many more years do you think we’ll have?”

“It depends on how kind the Force is to its worshippers,” Obi-Wan’s eyes crinkle and he ghosts a kiss up his jaw. 

Anakin shivers. “I’m its child, baby. The Force fucking loves me.”

The space between their bodies evaporates as Obi-Wan crushes him to his chest, pulling him down so there’s no escaping the feeling of the hard line of his cock.

“Fifty years then,” Obi-Wan swears. “Perhaps a hundred.”

Anakin’s laugh is breathless as he rocks down, rubbing himself against his husband’s erection. “And how many years will it take for us to get to the point where I forget something and you just tell me?”

Obi-Wan stands, lifting Anakin up into his arms. If it didn’t make Anakin lose his voice, that display of strength and possessiveness, he’d say something clever about improper use of the Force.

As it is, he can only moan high and loud as Obi-Wan carries him towards the door to the side chamber.

“Oh, fifty years perhaps. Maybe a hundred,” Obi-Wan tells him, and Anakin kisses him quiet, as is his princely duty.

[flebus]

u can tell that im really in a creative rut bc i just keep like getting visions of blorbos long since past and chasing the inkling of motivation it gives me to draw them at work for five days before i move on to something else 😭😭

[teratocore]

Idk if I’d call it any kind of actual foreshadowing because I don’t know if it was intentional but it is neat how season 1 post banishment Zuko’s haircut that we all lovingly poke fun at is actually closer to the style we see worn by the sun warriors than that of the topknots seen worn by those in the fire nation.

[whatthehaxx]

haxxy, cursed by their perfectionism, dwells on the thought of creating uniform oc introduction posts... despite having so many goddamn ocs that it would take. so. long.

[dbssh]

a bunch of doodles and stuff i never ended up posting

[unproduciblesmackdown]

"Ed Iskandar talked with God. Then it was Lucifer’s turn. Now he was addressing Adam and Eve.

[...]

Right now, Iskandar was rehearsing the plays from Act I, including Madeleine George’s 10-minute piece about the Fall of Man, which she gives the elaborate title,  “A Worm Walks Into A Garden or The Fall of Man, an experiment in motive and comedy.”  In it, Lucifer tells dumb jokes to Adam and Eve, as a way of seducing them. Adam finds them funny. Eve doesn’t.

“You’re missing a crucial part of your anatomy,” Lucifer says to Eve. “The funnybone.”

Lucifer is being played by Asia Kate Dillon.

[...]

Dillon was writhing and entwining themself around Eve.  Suddenly Chase Brock, the show’s choreographer, got down on the floor and started to writhe on the floor along with Lucifer. Brock had researched the earthworm, and showed some pictures of earthworms to Dillon on his laptop to suggest other moves they could make."

"50 different plays by almost as many different playwrights is a massive undertaking in which each vignette varies in tone from the one before it.  The actors playing the characters do not change from play to play; this forces the performers to be as comfortable and convincing with farce as they are playing tragedy.  It is also fascinating to contemplate the mental and emotional gymnastics that each performer of The Bats (the resident acting company of The Flea) must have undergone to ensure that each character maintains the same internal psychological throughline when they appear in different plays by very different authors.

The first act deals with the Old Testament books and the Nativity.  In playwright Dale Orlandersmith’s Song of the Trimorph, the angels in Heaven mindlessly worship God (a deliciously petty, yet shrewdly authoritative Matthew Jeffers), who takes it as His due until Lucifer (Asia Kate Dillon) starts to question whether love without choice means anything.

Dillon’s beautifully delicate, white-haired devil is one of the show’s most complex figures. Watching them evolve from nuanced philosopher to diabolical heavy to world-weary cynic, depending on the vignette, is fascinating.  The narrative speeds its way through the Bible. Highlights include Madeleine George’s surprisingly feminist take on the Adam and Eve story; Hwang’s marvelously urgent Cain and Abel tale, which posits the first murder as a story of vengeance against a capricious God; and Mallery Avidon’s whimsically horrifying tale of Noah’s Flood, which also entails the deaths of everyone who didn’t make it aboard the Ark.

[...]

The show’s second section deals with the Life of Jesus, with Colin Waitt’s astonishingly variegated boy-next-door Jesus shifting from an idealistic dreamer as he travels with Mary and Joseph to a forceful, almost angry philosopher when he argues with Lucifer about the nature of love to a bratty dolt when he confronts Gabriel about his inevitable fate.  The fact that the playwrights clearly have a different idea of Jesus’s personality sets Wiatt a complex task:  He has to make his Christ the same in all situations; whether he’s being comic or tragic, Wiatt is convincing and moving in a performance of stunning versatility.

Indeed, his likable turns in Gabriel Jason Dean’s beautiful Christ Enters Jerusalem makes his ferocious agonies in Qui Nguyen’s Christ Before Herod and his subsequent crucifixion all the more heartrending. The third act deals with Christ’s resurrection and humanity’s fate at the Day of Judgment, and includes a series of plays set in modern times, as well as God’s final words to Lucifer, Jesus, and to us.  The show’s final Day of Judgment coda by Jose Rivera is an essay of forgiveness and unexpected love."

"Overall, the point of view of The Mysteries leans toward deism, the Enlightenment philosophy that presents God as a kind of clockmaker who created the universe, then left it alone to run according to its own laws. We see God squabbling with, then abandoning, Lucifer, setting in motion the events of the Bible, but even in Eden he is surprisingly enigmatic.

[...]

And, as one of the thieves killed with Jesus prophesies, it may all be for naught; he conjures up a future in which "the religion founded -- haha --upon your existence will be held up to justify the slaughter of millions over hundreds and thousands of years, for the brutal sins of domination and exploitation, the lynchings, the massacres and genocide, the relentless militarism. Everything you stood for will be erased."

[...]

In any case, the company is an almost constant joy. Among the more striking performances, [...] Asia Kate Dillon is a compelling presence as Lucifer."

"Four dozen playwrights take four dozen spiritual positions, which allows bubbles of radical reimagining to emerge only to sink again beneath the waves. For instance, our very first playwright, Dael Orlandersmith, paints Lucifer (Asia Kate Dillon) as a sweetheart Cordelia type refusing to curry favor with an insecure God (Matthew Jeffers). The fallen Light bringer keeps popping up throughout, and yet while Lucifer makes a number of solid points—many vigorously antichurch—they're still costumed as a blood-smeared reptile. Does evil exist? Or does it only exist when it can dress super cool?"

"It begins with a scene in heaven where we meet the lavish Angel Chorus that will be with us for the duration of the play, and witness Lucifer’s expulsion from heaven, something like in Milton’s Paradise Lost.

[...]

We also meet the rebellious Lucifer in that first scene in heaven, played with dazzling cynicism by Asia Kate Dillon, and at the same time the angel Gabriel, played by Alice Allemano, who, obedient to God, in contrast to Lucifer, struggles valiantly trying to make sense out of God’s commands and following through on them.  These two, Lucifer and Gabriel, played by tall, striking people, fine actors who resemble one another, hold the vast array together like bookends.

The scenes in the Garden of Eden are delightful, played, appropriately in the nude, by Jaspal Binning as Adam and Alesandra Nahodil as Eve.  Throughout the play, Biblical episodes are interpreted by the many playwrights in non-canonical ways and the first of these is brilliant:  the knowledge the first couple gain through their disobedient eating of the apple is — how to tell a good joke and how to enjoy one!"

"Act I – The Fall begins with Creation and Lucifer’s fall from grace with God. Lucifer is played by a steady, radiant Asia Kate Dillon who reappears frequently to mix things up with earthlings and the rival angel, Gabriel, played by Alice Allemano makes goodness alluring. God is played by an extremely patient and multi-dimensional Matthew Jeffers whose sense of humor humanizes the Lord."

"As starting points, Dael Orlandersmith’s “Song of the Trimorph (Lucifer’s Lament)” and Liz Duffy Adams’s “Falling for You” are somewhat too abstract, particularly “Falling for You,” which has Lucifer wonder, “How can there be love in the absence of being?”"

"Starting with the Fall, we are introduced to the Angel Gabriel and the fallen angel Lucifer, played by two equally lissome and brilliant young actors, Alice Allemano and Asia Kate Dillon. They compete for God’s affections by using a chorus of singing punk angels."

"Asia Dillon as Lucifer brought the precise mixture of demonic delight and fragility necessary for such an adaptation: watching their performance was like looking at a raw cut in the bowels of the earth, brimming with fire and unimaginable sadness."

(no relevant quotes, but throwing in a brief pdf of a grantee project report that focuses on Engagement)

[loverboydotcom]

this is from the same para as the line i posted on my writeblr but it's killing me. imagine someone fucking you and then being like yeah it was ADEQUATE. it's giving those posts that are like 'sexting like "sounds good to me 👍"'

[icewindandboringhorror]

*screenshots the highlights of my youtube to mp3 downloads folder as if it were some fancy aesthetic spotify wrapped image or whatever* 

[adair-the-bard]

01. "Fearless" – MALINDA

I will be strong enough to cry out With the clearest parts of me

a sim for @nikittytrait's 30 shuffle sims challenge

[squeakytoybrain]

reflecting on sept 14th

i seriously had the best birthday party of my life and i have a lot of people that now follow me to thank, i appreciate the love and kindness shown to me during my hardest periods. i have the best friends literally in the entire world, i just opened my gifts and ive never heard such sweet words written in cards for me and this celebration of my life was adorned in the finest company. i finally feel capable and my therapist loves you guys

[allylikethecat]

I missed the poll! I would have voted I know where the city is!

Yesss I love the You Know Where the City Is love!! It still wouldn't have won this weeks poll, BUT I am mentally adding your vote to the tally! I'm so excited about that fic, even though I know the whole Fictional!Matty/Fictional!Taylor thing is a loaded topic these days (as always, just a reminder MY FIC CAME FIRST!!)

But WOW are they some of my favorite characters to write- they're so sad and messy- my favorite Bisexual Disaster Duo™️ plus not this upcoming chapter but in the NEXT ONE we will FINALLY have the Fictional!Taylor and Fictional!George meeting which I am SO EXCITED to finish writing because they essentially get into a pissing match over their favorite toy (Fictional!Matty) and neither of them want to share. (Meanwhile Fictional!Matty is off his face and has no idea what's happening) Hopefully I'll be able to finish that next chapter soon and get it posted! Thank you so much for all of the patience and continued support! I hope you like the Ducklings update regardless, and that you have a fantastic weekend!

❤️Ally