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veryintricaterituals · 2 months ago

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When I was in school I went to a friend's house to work on a project on a Friday afternoon. At about 6 or 6:30 when the sun was about to set her mom called us over to the livingroom. She lit two candles with my friend and then they proceeded to put the lit candles inside of a little cupboard so no one could see them. Me, a young jewish teenager asked her, my catholic friend, why they did that and she shrugged, said it was a family tradition to bring peace and prosperity, that the women of the family did it every friday evening and then hid the candles. They were very catholic, so I bit my tongue and we went back to her room to study.

This is just one of many, many, crypto jewish traditions that still exist in my hometown of Medellín, Colombia and I want to share a little bit about them with you.

Medellín is the capital city of a region called Antioquia and it is currently the second biggest city in my country. Now the weird thing about my region and my city more specifically is that it is in the middle of fucking nowhere, like we are in a valley in the middle of the andean mountains and it would take over two weeks by river, horse and river, and dunkey and mule to even get here before the invention of cars or trains.

Now Medellín was founded over 400 years ago, and families had been coming to the region for way before then, so that means that for centuries getting to my city from the sea or from the other big cities in the country was incredibly hard. This was by design, because Medellín itself was founded by about 28 families and we know for a fact that alteast half of them were crypto jews hidding from the Spanish Inquisition, and both before and the foundation more and more jewish families arrived to the region.

This is a known fact, the DNA of the people from the region has a lot of sepharadic jewish mixed in there. Early Colombian literature dating up to the 1845 would call the people of my region the Neogranadine Jews or the Colombian Jews. But because they were crypto jews the religion and most of the traditions were lost during the 400 years that have passed, now over 90% of the population is catholic and don't really know about their origins.

But some things stuck. And I want to tell you about them.

On the 7th night of December there is this pre-christmas festival called "El día de las velitas" or the little candle night that started and was unique to Antioquia. It's supposed to commemorate the candles that people had in the streets and the windows on the night Jesus was born and that helped Mary and Joseph to find their way. Do you know how this unique festival is celebrated in my city? People take to the streets to light candles, small colorful candles that they put in wooden planks or directly on the streets, it's the night that people decorate and turn on the christmas lights and it is so important and popular that we have an actual day off on the 8th of december.

Let me show you a few pictures

I don't think I need to explain this one. Even most goyim will know about Hannukah. But it is the weirdest thing when the dates coincide and we are all lighting candles together.

My dad was in the Jewish community board and we needed to rent a place to put our jewish daycare. They found this beautiful old house that had belonged to a family in colonial times but needed a little TLC. We had them remove some wooden floors because they were too old and rotting and found a huge Magen David made out stones in the center of the floor. The house also happened to have two separate kitchens and a mikveh or immersion bath in one of the rooms. These a very traditional things that colonial houses have in my region.

My grandmother converted to Judaism so I have a side from my family that is 100% from here and didn't arrive during the 20th century. I had the pleasure to meet both of my great grandparents from that side though they died when I was young. My grandma tells me that my greatgrandmother used to have one of these immersion baths in her house when she was growing up. Women were supposed to bathe in them after their periods had ended, my catholic great grandmother respected the mikveh traddition more than I ever have.

(I wish I had photos from that specific house but this happened over ten years ago, I'll show you some immersion baths from a different colonial houses that are also in my city)

Now how about we talk about traditional clothes. I'm sure most of you have heard of Ponchos, which are traditional in the Andean region, well the one from Antioquia is a little different and it's always supposed to be worn with a hat. Let's see if you can spot what I mean.

A few years ago Spain decided to grant citizenship to the descendants of the Jewish people that they had exiled in 1492. To get it you had to prove through family trees that your family had been Jewish. My city got the most ammount of passports out of everyone in the world, more than Israel. I could have applied from both my family that came from Egypt in the 20th century (we still have the keys to our house in Spain) or through my catholic side, as both of my grandmother's last names applied. I didn't but I could have.

I don't really know why I decided to finally write this post. I have so many more stories. I just think it's both incredibly sad that so much Jewish culture and people were lost but also it's a little heartwarming to see what survived even centuries down the line.

#it took me years to decide to finally write this because i didn't want to put where i live out on the internet #but fuck it #i still don't know how i feel about this #it's a bit of mourning what could've been and a bit of look a this isn't it neat #there is so much more to say about this topic but the post is too long #like how a lot of jews changed their last name to “Rojas” which spelled backwards means “lizcor” or to remember and they still forgot #or how there is a movement of reclaiming the jewish roots we have three re-emerging jewish communities in our city #one of which already converted fully and they are WAY more obvservant than my regular traditional community #crypto jews #conversos #jumblr #jewish #jews #judaism #jewish history #colombia #medellin #lationamerica #latin america #south america

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leopardom · 11 months ago

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Joker Out (Bojan, Kris and Nace) interview on The David Horton Show on Gorgeous Radio (18/2/24) - a summary:

if they could go to esc with another esc song they’d go with Zitti e Buoni (or Baila El Chiki Chiki as Bojan said)

*some laughter at the thought of Nace dressed as Victoria De Angelis*

Bojan’s and Kris’ favourite lyrics from Everybody’s Waiting are “what a wonderful life, a perfect time to get lost in the unoriginal line” and Nace’s “case closed, soul sold” (which he didn’t pronounce correctly because he twisted his tongue 💀)

they were asked about their fave song of all time. Kris: gotta check his spotify, Bojan: Yesterday by The Beatles, Nace: Behind Blue Eyes by The Who

they don’t want to spoil esc 2024 to themselves so it’s something they watch for the first time when the time for the live shows comes

the british habits they’ve picked up since moving to London are drinking english breakfast tea every morning, taking the double decker bus to rehearsal, taking the trash to the street and also poached eggs seem very british to them???

pineapple on pizza: Jure - yes, everyone else - no

they’re big soup lovers

when asked which slovenian esc entries they like a lot they said Samo Ljubezen, Veronika, Disko and No One

if they could collaborate with any artist it would be Dua Lipa and Käärijä in the same song (obviously Käärijä was mentioned by Bojan)

the sound for Everybody’s Waiting came naturally to them and they just rolled with it

the third album will be very diverse. it’s gonna have familiar sounds from the past but they will also experiment

Nace would be down for a bass tutorial like the guitar tutorial Kris did for Plastika

they like playing all kinds of venues, from very small to big ones

apparently Bojan is learning to cook now that they’re in London and he’s looking forward to doing more when they get back to Ljubljana

from their time in London Kris has learned to not mind commuting

the Taylor Swift songs they like are I Knew You Were Trouble and Blank Space

Bojan’s favourite snack is popcorn

#joker out #bojan cvjetićanin #kris guštin #nace jordan

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marleneoftheopera · 1 year ago

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Holiday Audio/Video Gifts!

For the holiday season, here are some audio gifts from various shows and one Phantom video! The link to them is here and the info is below the cut:

Happy holidays and I hope you are all having time for some rest!

Audios

POTO

Jon Robyns, Paige Blankson, Joe Griffiths-Brown, Kelly Glyptis, Matt Harrop, Adam Linstead, Francesca Ellis, David Kristopher Brown, Maiya Hikasa August 22, 2023; London

Tim Howar, Harriet Jones, Nadim Naaman, Lara Martins, Nicholas Garrett, Arvid Larsen, John Ellis, Valerie Cutko, Kelsi Boyden March 19, 2023; Greece

Josh Piterman, Corinne Cowling (u/s), Danny Whitehead, Katy Hanna (u/s), Ross Dawes, Kris Manuel (u/s), Sophie Caton (u/s), Paul Ettore Tabone, Georgia Ware October 17, 2019; London Matinee.

Jeremy Stolle (u/s), Samantha Hill, Greg Mills (u/s), Michele McConnell, Richard Poole (u/s), Tim Jerome, Ellen Harvey, Christian Sebek, Kara Klein, Scott Mikita (u/s) March 9, 2013; Broadway Matinee performance.

John Owen-Jones, Deborah Dutcher, Matthew Cammelle, Bruce Montague, Charles Shirvell, Margaret Mary Kane (u/s), Janet Murphy, Jeremy Secomb, Lucy Middleton January 5, 2002; London

Love Never Dies

Tam Mutu, Celia Graham, David Thaxton, Daniel Dowling August 25, 2011; London Tam Mutu's last performance.

Les Miserables

Christopher Jacobsen (u/s Jean Valjean), Stewart Clarke (Javert), Katie Hall (Fantine), Will Callan (Marius), Lulu-Mae Pears (Cosette), Amena El-Kindy (Eponine), Luke Kempner (Thenardier), Claire Machin (Madame Thenardier), Dejan Van der Flyert (Enjolras), Alex Shaw (Gavroche), Clohe Sullivan (Little Cosette), Tom Hext (Grantaire/Majordomo), Adam Pearce (Bishop/Claquesous), Ellie Ann Lowe (Factory Girl), Jordan Simon Pollard (u/s Foreman/Bujon), Matt Dempsey (Bamatabopis/Lesgles), Annabelle Aquino, Hazel Baldwin, Emily Olive Boyd, Ben Culleton, Matt Hayden, Sam Kipling, Anouk Van Lake, Harry Lake, Ben Oatley, Jonathan Stevens, Phoebe Williams, Ollie Wray September 28, 2023; London 15,000th show in London and the 5th show for the new company.

Sunset Boulevard

Nicole Scherzinger (Norma), Tom Francis (Joe Gillis), David Thaxton (Max von Mayerling), Grace Hodgett Young (Betty Shaefer), Ahmed Hamaad (Artie), Tyler Davis (Sheldrake), Charlotte Jaconelli (Johanna), Jon Tsouras (Cecil B. de Mille) September 28, 2023; London

Rebecca

Laureen Jones (I), Richard Carson (Maxim de Winter), Kara Lane (Mrs Danvers), Sara Harlington (Beatrice), Neil Moor (Giles), Piers Bate (Frank Crewley), David Breeds (Ben), Alex James Ward (Jack Favell), Shrley Jameson (Mrs Van Hopper), Nicholas Lumley (Colonel Julian) September 27, 2023; Off-West End

POTO Video

Ian Jon Bourg, Olivia Safe (u/s), Kyle Gonyea 2001; Hamburg, Germany VOB files. One of the most legendary Phantom's opposite one of the youngest Christine's!

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no-wings-no-angel · 5 months ago

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Opiniões e Fatos e Outras Coisas aleatoriamente expressadas pelo meu pai, ex-dj de festa dos anos 80:

Antes de um álbum lançar, a rádio recebia o single e trabalhava a música. Ter algum amigo na rádio era a principal forma de um dj conseguir músicas de álbuns que ainda não saíram.

Existem 2 tipos de música, as rápidas dançantes e as lentas.

Toda vez que ele fala de uma música gringa, ele diz o título de uma forma super exagerada e ênfase estranha.

Apesar de ter sido dj, ele tem zero noção de nomenclatura de gênero musicais. Ele já perguntou se eu ouvia Camisa de Vênus, eu disse que não, mas ouvida Plebe Rude, levando ele a responder “Camisa de Vênus, Plebe Rude, Banda Ira, tocavam tudo a mesma coisa” eu perguntei “O quê, punk?” E ele não soube responder.

Ele não sabe nada de nenhuma rixa de bandas. Ele não sabe nada das bandas, PONTO, nada que não seja as músicas. Ele não sabia que Capital Inicial e Legião Urbana já foram um dia Aborto Elétrico.

O Passo do Lui é um álbum de muito sucesso porque “quatro músicas tocaram, quatro de quê? Doze? Isso era muito.”

Por isso ele não sabe boa parte dos B sides, apesar de reconhecer bandas pelo estilo (e vocalista, obviamente).

Banda de sucesso era aquela que até a música lenta tocava.

The Cure e Depeche Mode era coisa de gente normal, não só góticos. Ele gosta de Strangelove e Just Like Heaven e sempre pede pra botar pra tocar.

E sim, ele dá uma ênfase estranha em cada palavra, jUst LAike RÉven e iShTrÊngiLóví que nem um radialista.

Ele acha que bandas como Beatles, Pink Floyd e Queen são “chatinhas” e “um porre”, especialmente dizendo que Beatles e Pink Floyd tem muita “música de louco“ (Diferindo de um tio meu, uns 8 anos mais novo, que acha o Pink Floyd a melhor coisa que aconteceu ao rock. Nunca vi eles discutindo sobre.)

Blue Monday do New Order era uma ótima música pra testar caixas de som.

Falando de Blue Monday, uma vez eu botei pra tocar no carro, ele disse “não, mas essa tá errada, isso é um remix”, sendo que era a primeira Blue Monday que aparecia no spotify. Descobri que aparentemente a que ele tocava era Blue Monday ‘88.

Se um artista era bissexual, gay, lésbica ou qualquer outra coisa, essa é a última coisa que ele vai lembrar a respeito, não importa quão óbvio seja, incluindo Freddie Mercury, David Bowie, Renato Russo e Cássia Eller.

O single de Você Não Soube me Amar da banda Blitz vinha com a música no lado A e o lado B intitulado “Nada”, que só tinha o vocalista cantando “Nada Nada Nada” repetidamente.

Mais de uma vez ele viu LPs tardiamente censurados, que tinham faixas inteiras riscadas na mão.

Ele se refere ao Kid Abelha pelo nome completo Kid Abelha & Os Abóboras Selvagens.

Ele acha a versão do Leo Jaime de Fórmula do Amor muito melhor que a do Kid Abelha (eu ouvi a do Kid Abelha primeiro, mas realmente a original é melhor)

Deu polícia no show do Titãs quando a música Polícia foi performada. Nem imagino o porquê.

Uma vez quando uma banda gringa veio pra nossa cidade, eles pediram pra casa de show ter “taças de cristal e bandejas de prata” no camarim, e a casa terceirizou. Até que descobriram que eles tinham ficado muito loucos, quebraram os copos e entortaram as bandejas, fazendo o dono da casa trancar geral no camarim até que eles pagassem. Isso configura como cárcere privado que acho, mas meu pai diz “que se foda, foi um desrespeito do caralho, no fim eles pagaram tudo e ainda cantaram direitinho”.

Se você parece estar trabalhando, você pode essencialmente entrar em qualquer festa.

#isso foi oq eu lembrei #qualquer coisa atualizo

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azul-maria-elias · 1 month ago

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Opinión y análisis (con spoilers) del documetal

Beatles '64 (2024)

Unos meses después de asesinato del presidente John F. Kennedy, los Beatles llegaron a Nueva York para actuar en The Ed Sullivan Show. Fue la primera vez que la banda viajó a EE.UU. Albert y David Maysles filmaron a los Beatles durante su viaje de 14 días. Mientras que la Beatlemanía estaba propagándose por Europa, casi todo Estados Unidos aún estaba por descubrir a los Beatles. Esta película presenta historias personales de personas que estuvieron allí.

Con estas palabras, que sirven de una excelente sinópsis, inicia el documental Beatles '64 (2024) dirigido por David Tedeschi y producido por el conocido cineasta Martin Scorsese. Scorsese ya había tenido un acercamiento importante con el mundo Beatle al dirigir el documental "George Harrison: Living in the Material World" (2011). Es uno de los mejores documentales que he visto y, por ende, lo recomiendo muchísimo. Aunque aquí no dirige, se nota su influencia y el cariño por el proyecto.

Tengo que admitir que el resultado final me sorprendió. Esperaba un documental que relatara el histórico desembarco de los Beatles en tierra estadounidense, y como su impacto en dicho mercado fue pieza fundamental en su fama global. Sin embargo, hallé un recopilatorio de vivencias y opiniones de diferentes y variadas fuentes que intentan hayar una explicación al fenómeno Beatle. A su vez, éstas se intercalan con material de archivo de una calidad excelente y un valor impresionante captados por los antes mencionados Albert y David Maysles.

De la primicia inicial se desglosan varios temas de gran interés que pasaré a detallar a continuación.

i. El impacto de la Beatlemanía en la juventud.

Podríamos decir que este tema es el que se trata centralmente en el documental al ser el que más se refuerza con el material de archivo. No sólo se conversa sobre el impacto de los Beatles en la juventud (estadounidense, en este caso) a través de diversos testimonios, sino que podemos observar de primera mano, a través del material filmado, como se veía realmente la "beatlemanía": vemos la cantidad de jóvenes esperando por la banda en los aeropuertos, haciéndo vigía en los hoteles, expresándose casi exclusivamente con gritos, sosteníendo cartéles, envíando notas y regalos, y otras actitudes de pura devoción.

¿Por qué nos poníamos histéricas y gritábamos? La verdad, ahora no lo entiendo, pero en aquel entonces, era algo natural. Hacer eso era algo natural. No podíamos contenernos. — Vickie Brenna-Costa

La devoción extrema de la juventud por los Beatles fue algo incomparble en su época. Ni siquiera artistas como Elvis Presley recibieron tal fanatismo. La población adulta, en su mayoría, se encandalizaba, ansiando por una explicación lógica. Pero, ¿Había tal cosa? ¿Se trataba de un mero erotismo de parte de la juventud femenina? ¿Cómo podía la música convergir en un movimiento de tal magnitud?

Era muy visceral la reacción a la música de los Beatles. Era algo que no podíamos describir con palabras. Por eso gritábamos. Porque salía de un lugar no verbal. — Jamie Bernstein

Esta cita, en particular, fue una de las que más me dió vueltas en la cabeza debido a que describió acertadamente algo que me sucede en lo personal, y que continúa existiendo en la actualidad. Intentar buscarle una explicación a los fanátimos y pasiones es casi una totería, una absurda pérdida de tiempo. No se le puede colocar palabras a algo que surge de una dimensión donde aquellas no existen. Es algo más ligado al espíritu humano, a lo que nos hace humanos. Por eso gritámos, lloramos, reímos, movemos todo nuestro cuerpo.

Las mujeres hacen que exista la industria del entretenimiento, ¿sabes? Porque son sensibles y no temen mostrar sus emociones. Se supone que los hombres somos despreocupados. No debemos ser sensibles. No debemos llorar. No debemos ser sensibles con las cosas. Debemos ser fuertes y… Es una porquería. Así que valoro mucho el hecho de que las mujeres se muestren así y se expresen de esa manera. — Smokey Robinson

Aquí, Smokey Robinson señala algo crucial para entender el fenómeno de la Beatlemanía y los posteriores fanatismos que se fueron dando hasta normalizarse en nuestros tiempos. La mayoría de estos movimientos —por no decir todos— son encarnados por las mujeres jóvenes. En una parte del documental también se intuye que surge del erotismo primitivo que se presentan en las edades tempranas, previo al comienzo de la sexualidad. Estas chicas no solo se enamoraban de la música, sino que tenían un "Beatle favorito" al cuál adoraban por su físico.

Sin embargo, creo que Robinson es más acertado al señalar a la mujer como figura central de la industria del entretenimiento. Lo he pensado siempre, la mujer tiene una mejor intuición para los grandes artistas y no teme acercarse con devoción hacía ellos. La mayoría de artistas relevantes para la historia de la música tuvieron al comienzo un público femenino, y los hombres se acercaron gracias a la inicial aceptación femenina.

ii. La música trasiende sus barreras físicas

Mi hermana tenía la radio encendida, y escuche "She Loves You". Fue como si se hubiera encendido la luz. Fue como si, en la oscuridad total, se hubiera encendido una luz. Pensé: "Por Dios, qué bien que suena esto. Es algo para nosotros". Fue algo que surgió de la nada. — Joe Queenan

¿Pero qué hace a los Beatles tan especiales? ¿Por qué ellos, y no otros, fueron los guías encargados de llevarnos a un nuevo mundo nunca antes visto? ¿Sólo estuvieron en el momento y lugar adecuado? El documental siembra estas preguntas en el espectador y, aunque sus testimonios comparten diferentes respuestas, es tan difícil darle una explicación a tal fenómeno que queda en manos de cada espectador reflexionar sobre ello.

Cuando los Beatles salían con esa energía alegre que era palpable, era algo de lo cual anhelabas formar parte. Esa es mi iglesia. La iglesia del rock and roll. Ahí yacían los cimientos de mi fe de que el poder de la música transforma vidas. (…) El elixir que creaban era tan profundo que no se trataba solo de canciones. Se trataba de la energía que las canciones llevaban adelante. — Sananda Maitreya

iii. Los Beatles y la alegría de los pueblos

Desde los primeros minutos del documental se hace incapié en el contexto de depresión y luto que vivía el pueblo estadounidense tras el asesinato de presidente John F. Kennedy. Aunque los Beatles temían que esto impactara de manera negativa en su recibimiento en los Estados Unidos, su música sirvió como el perfecto remedio para que una generación entera sanara dicha herida con la alegría de su música.

Joe Queenan, en un momento del documental, deduce que dicha alegría que albergaban las canciones de la banda nacía del contexto post-guerra en el que los Beatles se habían criado, sirviendo como contrapunto a la miseria que se vivía en Liverpool. Esto se condecía con la propia actitud jovial que mostraba la banda y que se evidencia en el material filmado. En plabras de George Harrison, "todos son comediantes en Liverpool".

Joe Queenan: Los adultos creían que era el final. Que socavarían nuestra juventud. Entrevistador: ¿Cuál era la subversión? Joe Queenan: Te incentivaban a pasarla bien.

iv. La nueva masculinidad propuesta por los Beatles

Eran chicos, sin duda, pero eran delicados. Con su ropa y su cabello. A menudo, había delicadeza en sus voces. Toda la noción de hombres contra mujeres no era prominente. Estaban en el medio. No resaltaban para nada la rivalidad entre hombres y mujeres. De cierto modo, eran muy inclusivos. — Jane Tompkins

El documental también abarca, brevemente, el tema de la sexualidad y su rol en el fenómeno Beatle. Los Beatles vinieron a romper con todo tipo de barreras: artísticas, culturales y sociales. Su impacto fue tal, que también involucró la dinámica social entre géneros. El éxito de los Beatles entre el público femenino no se debió únicamente a un atractivo sexual, sino también a la propuesta de hombre que estos traían consigo. Esto también impactó, claro está, en el público masculino jóven, que buscaba otro prototípo de hombre al que aspirar.

Estos muchachos, con su pelo largo, están diciendo "no" a la mística masculina. Están diciendo "no" a sus crueles, sádicos, reservados, a tener corte militar, ser prusianos, musculosos, ser como Ernest Hemingway, a matar osos cuando no hay osos que matar, a aniquilar con napalm a los niños de Vietnam y Camboya, para demostrar que son hombres. (…) Estos muchachos, con su pelo largo, están diciendo: "No, no tengo que tener corte militar y ser reservado, no tengo que ser dominante y superior a nadie, no tengo que ser musculoso porque no hay ningún oso que matar, no tengo que matar a nadie para demostrar nada. Puedo ser amable, puedo ser sensible y puedo ser compasivo. A veces, puedo admitir que tengo miedo e incluso puedo llorar. Y soy hombre. Y soy yo mismo". Y ese hombre, con la fuerza suficiente para ser amable, es un nuevo hombre. — Betty Friedan

Es evidente que los Beatles no fueron los únicos ni los primeros en proponer una masculinidad que se permite expresar emociones profundas. En mi país, Argentina, tenemos incorporado desde hace mucho tiempo al hombre sensible, que llora y posee un mundo interior complejo gracias al tango. Las letras del tango han tenido como principal protagonista al hombre melancólico y quejumbroso, que comúnmente llora la périda o el engaño de una mujer de carácter mucho más fuerte. Aunque parezca una tontería, los relatos que se construyen a través del arte, en este caso la música, impactan directamente en el imaginario colectivo y juegan un rol en las dinámicas sociales.

v. Los Beatles como hijos de la música negra

Los Beatles no sólo arrivaron a un país en luto, sino también a uno que se encontraba atravesando un intenso confrontamiento entre su población blanca y negra. El mismo McCartney señala en el documental que, creían haber llegado a la "tierra de la libertad" pero que descubrieron que las cosas eran distintas desde dentro.

Fueron los primeros artistas blancos de su magnitud que escuché en mi vida. Ellos dijeron: "Sí, crecimos escuchando música de negros. Nos encanta el motown. Escuchamos artistas negros. Conocemos a este, a este…". Ningún otro artista blanco dijo algo así. Ninguno de esa magnitud, hasta que los Beatles lo dijeron. Había mucha segregación, sobre todo en el sur, en aquel entonces en los shows. (…) Y la salvación era la música. Porque les daba a los jóvenes un amor en común. Les daba algo que ambos amaban y disfrutaban ¿sabes? (…) La música es el lenguaje universal. Derriba barreras. — Smokey Robinson

Los Beatles eran fieles a su formación en la música negra, la admiraban y reversionaban canciones de artistas negros como The Miracles, The Ronettes, Chuck Berry y Little Richard, aportando su impronta y estilo propio. Lo que señala Robinson en la cita no es menor, debemos pensar que veníamos de una época donde los covers de artistas blancos de compositores negros vendían mucho más que loz originales. Sin hablar que, hasta hoy en día, se le otorga el título de "rey del rock and roll" a Elvis Presley, cuando se benefició de un género contruído por músicos negros.

vi. La inocencia de los Beatles

Este es el punto que más me importa rescatar de documental. A través de este punteo de temas que se discuten de manera breve pero impecable en la película, es importante destacar —y el documental lo hace— que los Beatles no tuvieron ningún tipo de propósito en todos ellos.

A medida que vemos declaraciones de los entrevistados, filmaciones de los fanáticos y archivos televisivos y radiales, se nos intercalan películas de los Beatles en sus habitaciones de hoteles, jugueteando y pasando el rato. Cuando su representante, Brian Epstein, los llama preguntando por su viaje, podemos notar con absurdez, su nula noción de lo que siembran a su alrededor. Sí, mencionan que los fanáticos son "ruidosos" y "salvajes" pero no son concientes del impacto que generan minuto a minuto con su sola existencia. Todos los temas antes discutidos, desde el fanatismo juvenil, las nuevas formas de sexualidades, la música como medicida de los pueblos y forma de unión racial, son ajenos a ellos. Solo demuestran querer huir para descubrir la música que Estados Unidos tenía para ellos.

Pero considero que dicha inocencia tiñe de pureza todo su impacto y legado. Los Beatles nunca quisiero la fama que terminaron consiguiendo, porque antes de ellos nadie podía imaginarse tal cosa. Por ello, y respondiendo a las preguntas propuestas por el documental, puedo concluir en que los Beatles sí son especiales en sí mismos, lejos de su contexto. Nadie más podría haber revolucionado tanto la historia como lo hicieron, porque existió y existe una cuota humana que proviene únicamente de ellos. John, Paul, George y Ringo, como hijos de clase trabajadora, nacidos en una ciudad destrozada por la guerra, con una calidad humana inigualable y con su gran amabilidad, fueron los únicos capaces de generar el movimiento que hoy recordamos con tanto asombro y que continúa creciendo. No los queremos sólo por su música, o por lo guapos que podrían haber sido. Los queremos y admiramos por las personas que fueron. Nos apasionan sus historias, sus aficiones, sus pasiones y sus temores.

Su sóla existencia, y el hecho de que fueron unidos para construir el proyecto más importante de la historia de la música, es algo de carácter divino. Y cómo tal, no se puede razonar o buscar explicaciones terrenales. Si algo demuestra este documental, es que los Beatles dejaron una huella como ningúna otra en todo el mundo, la cuál casi no posee límites y, por ende, impacta en muchísimos ámbitos de nuestra vida.

vii. Últimos comentarios

Verán que, a pesar de ser una reseña de una película, poco he hablado de sus características y facultades cinematográficas. Eso se debe a varias cosas. Por un lado, y algo que es sumamente positivo para la película, su visualización me hizo reflexionar sobre tantos temas que quise centrarme en ello para este escrito. Por otro lado, está el hecho de que no soy conocedora de los estilos y formas del género documental para poder señalar aptitudes o debilidades del filme. En una película de otra naturaleza, podría explayarme hablando de las actuaciones, diálogos, construcción de la historia, fotografía, etc. Aquí, me resulta una tarea difícil y forzada.

A pesar de eso, vuelvo a reiterar que el material de archivo recuperado como las entrevistas son de un gran valor y calidad. También, me gustó mucho la utilización de la música y los sonidos para enfatizar mensajes o facilitar cortes. Por ejemplo, se utiliza un par de veces el recurso de convertir una música diegética —que forma parte de la historia, que los protagonistas pueden oír— a una extradiegética —que sólo los espectadores oímos—. Es el caso de la música que sale de la radio que escuchan los Beatles que luego pasa a servir de soporte para material fotográfico o como banda musical de fondo en las entrevistas. O viceversa, cuando una música extradiegética pasa a ser diegética. Es un agradable trabajo de sonido.

A su vez, me gustó que algunas de las entrevistas se salieran del formato común y permitieran que los entrevistados se desplazaran por el ambiente o que interactuaran en cámara con los entrevistadores. Es el claro ejemplo de las interacciones entre Ringo y Scorsese, que son muy agradables.

Por último, destacar la elección del video de John Lennon para el cierre del documental, el cuál le da un giro emotivo y acentúa más el mensaje propuesto.

P.D. Nunca antes había oído la versión de Yesteday de Smokey Robinson. Emocionante hasta las lágrimas. A pesar de ser la canción más reversionada de la historia, es la primera vez que oigo una versión hecha con tanto amor y respeto. Simplemente encantador.

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santacoppelia · 1 year ago

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Good Omens master post and WARNING

I was happily participating in the fandom when I started noticing some things I will not condone:

Real person shipping and/or expressing hate for real life partners of famous people will gain you a permanent block/unfollow (So you ship actor A and B? And you hate their life partners? Go, die salty, they chose each other and their relationship is not for your enjoyment and none of your business). I do not condone and will not tolerate this behavior.

I reblog so many things, that I needed this sort of index to find the things I've written about the show that I want to find later.

I started with a long meta about how the overarching theme for Good Omens is the concept of "free will"

Then, I expanded on the @irispurpurea meta with my own "moral development chart" analysis...

I had a small emotional breakdown with some concept art...

And said something about how their lifespan and ours are not to be considered the same (4 years is nothing!)

And, somewhat on the same direction, how their communication problems are (and not) derived from being queer-coded.

I went on analyzing the "Crowley swag" from a body mechanics and acting perspective, and a little bit about David doing "mask work" when putting the sunglasses on...

Not really a meta, but some thoughts about a video of Michael Sheen talking about the strength required to be good, in relation to Aziraphale.

And my absolutely ridiculous headcanon about Aziraphale being actually proficient as a magician.

Obviously, the Metatron Meta

A short list of things we know about Maggie... That one day will be a headcanon.

And a short list of things I loved about the season, in Spanish, because it is my native language and I wanted to do it quickly.

Wouldn't it be fun if they had to share a body? (just a small musing)

A meta about angels and angelic nature (and why I feel Muriel will be important in s3)

The notes on serpents' eyesight that reinforce my headcanon of Crowley having bad eyesight (and, of course, it matches soooo well with poor David's experience with the special contacts and the sunglasses 😎)

A mini note about Aziraphale cornering himself

The gifs of my Reverse! Omens headcanon: David Tennant's angelic side, and Michael Sheen being a charismatic demon

The happy finding of rereading the book: there was a mention of a Shopkeeper's Association Dance!!! (oh, how I loved this inside joke)

This is not mine, but I looked everywhere for the screenshot of Neil searching the name for the coffee shop, and here it is. It was "Grounds for Divorce", so...

The tentative playlist, started by @temperance-sunlight, to let Crowley cry in style, like a señora. (Now with a Spotify version)

A little appreciation post to Michael Sheen's acting voice choices.

THE LONGEST META: an analysis of The Final Fifteen, through the optics of this season starting and ending with The Ineffables arguing.

a crack meta about the working conditions on Hell AND Heaven.

Un fic chiquito, en español, sobre las causas de la caída de Crowley. Este fue un regalo para una amiga, que me dio el detonador para escribirlo. The translation to English.

a meta about one of the great new characters from season 2: Shax!!!

Adding some ideas in a repost about Aziraphale having a protagonist-looking arch.

A long, rambly answer to a very lovely ask about free will and Aziraphale.

I wouldn't naturally associate the narrative analysis model with this masterpost, but i teased it and decided to write it in this post, after sensing a "shift in attitudes" towards Aziraphale when the filming of the kiss was discussed during Ineffable Con... So here it is.

I finally started publishing my "bahamut of a fic"! Under the Fold, an AU where A.Z. Fell + A.J. Crowley are human journalists involved in a web of scandals. It starts following the canon (somehow, considering that there is no Heaven and no Hell and the Armageddon is just an exposé) but it will diverge and be angsty but with an eventual happy ending.

Related to the fic, this meta: Ineffable detectives

This essay which is not about Good Omens, but takes David Tennant as a starting point to talk about fandom, aging and social constructs around getting older, fandom and culture.

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens santacoppelia meta masterpost

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karaokerandmusical · 1 month ago

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Tambien en

https://www.bitchute.com/video/5W9EYgkI61KU/

https://rumble.com/v4hwgj8-lo-me.html

Asi como en #LosEspeciales desde #SpotifyforPodcasters: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/superdavitm (tambien en https://open.spotify.com/episode/1uKJT9wXDMqdDuY8wEQOWV?si=_ekgz7XpRoeBD1LnKGnQ0A ).

Y para este tambien es aplicable lo de los "colofones"

Evento en https://www.facebook.com/share/19UXsNNBXF/

#humor

#show

#adventure

#estrenos

#Spotify

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8iunie · 2 years ago

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Måneskin for El Pesero Show | Mexico City, Mexico | October 2022

📸 & 🎥 ferpineapple.jpg

#måneskin #maneskin #ethan torchio #damiano david #victoria de angelis #thomas raggi #my posts 💫#mexico: mexico city #el pesero show #video #october 2022 #february 2023 #black & white #måneskin + sunglasses 🕶#photoshoot #må smiling 😁#mr. torchio + bun #✌🏻 & 🤟🏻#amazon music

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wastemanjohn · 1 year ago

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You KNEW my prompt was gonna include pregnancy lmao but I’m gonna say samdean accidental pregnancy — your choice if Dean or Deanna, your choice which season but I wanna see Dean(na) confessing to Sam that s/he’s knocked up!

here you go mate <3 (sorry for sneaking my deanna and david bowie headcanon in here but i had reason to believe you wouldn't mind xD - and exploring this pushed me nicely out of my comfort zone so thank you for the prompt!)

The skies over the salvage yard are pink with shepherd's delight clouds. The evening breeze has a little bite, and the air smells like rotting oil and dead leaves. The latter scent is one Sam associates with shoplifting school supplies, with the good coffee shops opening up on campus again. It's an awkward nostalgia, but it comes to him anyway as he buttons up his shirt for warmth and makes a start on staking out the boulevard of broken cars, armed with two bottles of El Sol and a mental note of all the phrases he's learned not to say. Deanna's gotta be out here somewhere.

The thing is, Sam thinks as he passes the nearly restored Impala, it had seemed like his sister was doing a little better. She's still sharp tongued and irritable, but she's not been spending 12 hours a day doing god knows what under that hood. She's been hanging out with Sam and Bobby more in the evenings, not really saying much, but sometimes she smiles with her whole face at something someone says, and Sam's always a little surprised at the force of his relief. She's even been talking a bit about getting out on the road again, even if she never directly mentions Dad; but Sam's caught her quietly leafing through his journal now and then lately. Not that he's said anything about it, because that's just asking for trouble; and anyway, regardless of any improvement, Sam still has no idea what's going on in Deanna's head, really. She feels very far away.

She went out this afternoon. For hours. Didn't say where she was going; but it's got to be the first time she's left Bobby's place in weeks. She left her phone behind on the nightstand, in this way that Sam couldn't help but suspect was intentional, because there had to be something about that; had to be something in the way Deanna caught Sam's eye through the window as she was coming back, coming all slow down the path with Dad's jacket over her shoulders and this tight expression on her face. Something in the way Deanna had sharply changed direction at the sight of him, veering off until she faded into the salvage yard and Sam couldn't see her anymore. And it's not that Sam meant to be hovering near the front of the house at the exact moment of her return like a worried parent, but shit happens.

Let her be, son, Bobby had said, without looking up from his scotch and that leatherbound demonology book he'd been annotating all day. Harder you push, the more she's gonna clam up.

It bothers Sam when Bobby talks like that, like he knows Deanna better than Sam does or something. As for letting her be - well, if Bobby knows Sam at all, he's got a strange way of showing it.

As Sam goes deeper into the yard, he can hear music. Tinny, faint; but Sam recognizes David Bowie. He spent enough time being subjected to every single tape the guy ever made, even the really out there ones, over and over again as a kid to know that voice anywhere. That had been one of Deanna's more intense phases. Sam thinks she finds him comforting now, maybe; familiar, well worn, like an old blanket. She'd deny that, of course, the way she always denies shit that she thinks sounds girly, or maybe just vulnerable - but it hadn't been lost on Sam over the past year, how Deanna would play those tapes during nearly every overnight drive they took. Her hands always a little too tight on the steering wheel, Dad's unknown whereabouts breathing down the backs of their neck like a spirit.

Sam follows that bustling piano, ch-ch-changes, until he finds his sister. She's sitting on the floor, leaning against the dented door of an eighties truck with a mangled hood. The windows are down. The music is coming from inside.

Dad's jacket is so big over Deanna's shoulders. It practically drowns her, looks kind of ridiculous, if Sam were to be mean about it; still smells like Dad's cigarettes. Deanna doesn't look up, when Sam approaches, but she doesn't hide her face or snipe at him to fuck off either. Which means this is already going well.

"Hey." Sam says it cautiously. "What are you doing out here?"

Her eyes roll up at him. "Making bacon and eggs, jackass. What's it look like I'm doing?"

Sam doesn't know, actually. Still, he takes the sarcasm on the chin. He holds one of the beer bottles out to Deanna; she glances at it, then shakes her head.

It surprises Sam, but he doesn't push. "You look like crap," he offers.

Deanna snorts. "Well. Don't you know how to make a girl feel special."

There's no bite in it. That tells Sam they're okay. She does, though; look like crap, that is. Tired; washed out. She's been sleeping in the day a lot. Bobby says it's the grief, that she needs it. Sam could believe that. He wonders, though, if Bobby's heard Deanna throwing up in the night lately. Not just one of her tactical upchucks to stave off a hangover, because she's not been drinking all that much lately; but these real hacking puke sessions that jolt Sam out of sleep in the early hours of the morning. She never comes back to her bed afterwards. And Sam has his suspicions about that too, like with the left behind phone; it's Deanna's way of not giving him a chance to pry. She knows how thin the wall between the bathroom and the spare bedroom is.

"Can I sit?" Sam asks.

Deanna shrugs. It's as good as permission.

Sam lowers himself down beside her, gets comfy on the rough gravel. He puts down the beers; doesn't feel much like drinking by himself.

They sit in silence for a while. Puts Sam on edge; but it's hard to know what to say to Deanna most of the time these days, which isn't a position he's ever been in before. Then again, they've never been in the position of losing their father before, so there's that. It still doesn't feel real. It probably never will.

"Keys were still in the ignition," Deanna says, nodding up towards the truck. "Tapedeck works. Engine's salvageable. Bobby's way too quick to junk these babies. Upsets me."

Sam smiles. "Dare you to say that to his face."

"Hey, maybe I will. If he gave me half a day with this death trap I'd get her purring again. Turn her into a whole new woman."

She folds her arms, tilts her head back against that dented door. Her eyes are kinda pink and bleary.

"You should see the tapes in the glove compartment," she adds. "'S a fucking goldmine.

"Is this Hunky Dory?" Sam asks.

Deanna raises an eyebrow. "Wow. And there I was thinking you weren't paying attention all this time."

"You didn't exactly give me a choice. You only played this album every day for like ten years."

Deanna grins. "I'm proud of you, Sammy. I knew you'd learn to love it eventually."

"Love is a strong word," Sam replies.

Deanna snorts again. Something like affection passes over her face. Sam hasn't seen that in a while.

"I lost this album years ago," Deanna says. "Think it ended up with Dad, maybe. You know how our stuff used to always get mixed up."

Sam's a little stunned. And maybe it shows, because Deanna narrows her eyes at him. "What?"

"Nothing." He swallows - "Just that you, uh, mentioned Dad."

"Yeah. So?"

It's quick, defensive enough for Sam to know to shut up. He's getting good at that kind of thing.

Deanna's scowl fades; she grins, lightly punches his thigh. "You creep. Quit staring at me."

Sam didn't realize he was. But if they were a different kind of people, maybe Sam would tell Deanna how pretty she looks under the dying sunlight, under those pink, glowy clouds; but he wouldn't really know how to put something like that, and Deanna would never let him live it down if he said it aloud anyway. So he keeps it to himself. Instead, he watches Deanna pull at a spooling thread from her shirt sleeve peeking out from beneath Dad's jacket.

"You know," Deanna says, "being out here always reminds me of us being kids. Bobby letting us play in the yard until the sun went down. Bringing us lemonade. Do you remember?"

Sam smiles. "Yeah, Dee. Of course I remember."

Deanna carries on like she wasn't expecting an actual response. "We'd never had homemade lemonade. Remember how I used to try to make it for you when we got back on the road? Mine always kinda sucked, though."

Sam feels a little on edge, hyper aware of everything his body is doing, like he's trying not to spook a wild gazelle. This is the most Deanna has spoken in weeks. "You tried," he offers, because she did, Deanna always tried so hard with stuff like that. He hasn't thought about Deanna's crappy lemonade in years. With Bowie warbling about life on mars on the stereo, and the memory of Deanna's sticky too-bitter attempt alive on his tongue, it feels like it's 1992 again.

Deanna keeps pulling at that thread. "You know, back when I used to watch you - I was, I dunno, maybe ten or eleven. And you were so - you were so damn innocent, you know? Just really cute, I guess."

"Cute?" Sam echoes.

"Yeah." There's this tight, half-smile on her mouth that Sam can't quite read. "You were so curious about shit all the time. Always wanting me to tell you stories. Always getting yourself scraped and bruised because you couldn't stop fucking climbing stuff."

Sam isn't sure what to say. There's something about remembering himself as a child that makes him uncomfortable. Maybe it's the idea of being so small and so helpless; or maybe it's the memory of that hard-to-place unease that lived inside of him like blood from the moment he was fully sentient, that gut-deep sense that something about his life - his family, his barely present Daddy - just wasn't right.

"You were a pain in the ass," Deanna continues, with this fond chuckle. "Asking me questions all the time. Wanting to know how every little thing in the world worked. If I didn't know the answers, I'd just make 'em up. You believed everything I said." She clicks her tongue. "Man, do I miss that."

Why are we talking about this? Sam nearly asks. But that runs the risk that Deanna will snap shut like an oyster, and Sam will never get the answer at all. So he keeps his mouth closed. He lets Deanna carry on.

"Sammy, I used to -" She trails off, looking weirdly sheepish. "This is so so fucking weird, but like - when I was watching you, I used to wish you were actually my kid. And you - you kinda were, you know? Felt like you were mine... mine just as much as you were Dad's."

Dad, again. Sounds so unfamiliar in Deanna's voice now that it takes Sam a moment to process the revelation that came before it. "You did? Seriously?" is all he manages.

"Yeah." She's looking at her lap. Still that tight half-smile. "Seriously."

And Sam struggles to know what to do with that, what it means. Because it's hard, lately, for Sam to be angry with his father about much; makes him feel almost empty, actually, after a lifetime of nursing this near-addictive resentment over things he never fully understood. And of those things, Deanna - getting her stuff mixed up with Dad's, being so intertwined with him, resembling her martyred mother so much Dad could never stop commenting on it - Deanna seeing Sam as her own, apparently - well, he doesn't know. Sometimes Deanna just says shit. He probably isn't meant to read into it.

And besides, Sam doesn't know anything for sure. Always felt like he never really wanted to. And as he's already made his choice to love his father, he needs to keep it that way.

Deanna shuts her eyes, then. They're puffy under her lashlines, kissed with gray. "I mean," she says, "Don't get me wrong. You annoyed the crap outta me sometimes." She shrugs, hard, like a defence to an attack Sam hasn't made. "I - I do know that, Sammy. I know there was times I coulda been nicer to you." She looks a little pained.

"We were just kids Dee," Sam offers. "Not like either of us were exactly saints."

"I keep remembering," Deanna continues, in that way, like Sam hadn't spoken again, "There was this time Dad kind of - got caught up in something. Still don't know what. But he wasn't home when he said he'd be. We were running out of everything. Food, money. No one was answering the phone. And you - you were driving me insane, Sammy."

Deanna says the last part a little too quietly; her head bows, hair covering her face. And Sam thinks he knows where this is going. He's getting a little uneasy.

"You just - you kept on and on with your damn questions. 'Where's Dad? What does he do while he's away? When's he coming back?' Then you - you asked about Mom."

"Deanna-"

She shakes her head, cutting him off. Something bitter on her lips, not quite a smile. "Who punches a five year old in the face, Sammy? I can't believe I -"

"You were only nine, Dee." Sam reminds her, when she doesn't finish the sentence. "You didn't know any better."

And it's true; Dad made sure of that, with his shoot first, ask questions later manifesto. But Deanna would never see it that way. She just laughs, colorless, bitter. "Yeah. I did. I shoulda, at least. I just -" She huffs. "Sometimes it feels like I just - I couldn't stop screwing up."

"You were doing it all by yourself." As the words leave his mouth, Sam registers how they sound. Like something you'd say about a single mom, some divorced thirty something with three kids, working two jobs to keep everyone fed and clothed. Not a nine year old.

"I guess -" Deanna sucks in a breath. "I just think about that a lot. That's all."

There's this dread growing inside of Sam as he watches Deanna's mouth twist up; she blinks, angrily. "Are you - crying?"

"Shut up," she mumbles.

She turns her face away a little. Draws her knees up to her chest. And it's strange and unsettling for Sam to see, like a horse walking on its hind legs or something; because Deanna doesn't cry, crying is for girls, and anatomy aside, she doesn't much like being seen as one of those. Even before Dad's pyre she stood, solemn and silent, breathing slow, composed. A hell of a lot more composed than Sam was, anyway.

"What's going on, Dee?"

She shrugs. That's very different to I'm fine.

And if things had been in any way close to normal over the last couple of months, Sam might touch Deanna's hand right about now. Lace their fingers; cup her face. Kiss her, maybe, the way she hasn't let him kiss her in a long time. Not since - well - not since the night they let Dad go. Sam can still remember the heat from the fire on his face, the way Deanna's hair felt grainy with ash; how her lips had tasted earthy and swollen, how she felt so small and fragile in his arms, more than she ever had. Still his big sister. Still the person he wants when he's scared and spiralling and doesn't know what to do but grab onto her, and hold on and on and on.

Deanna sniffs, loudly. "I just - I had so much on my shoulders, you know? Dealin' with you... dealin' with Dad..."

Her voice cracks a little. Sam says, "It was - it was a lot. I know."

A lot. So much summed up in those two words, but it's not like Sam's had a lot of practise in talking about this.

Deanna laughs down at her folded knees, all thick. "You don't know, Sammy. You don't know at all. And I'm - I'm really glad you don't."

Sam isn't sure what to say to that. Partly because he can't gauge Deanna's tone, and partly because that feels like one of the most honest things Deanna's ever said to him. And now he's really worried.

"I just - I always wished I had another chance, you know? A chance to do over all those screw ups I made."

Tentatively, Sam reaches out to put a hand on her shoulder. It tenses a little beneath his fingers; but she doesn't pull away. That's good.

"I don't know where all this is coming from, Dee," Sam admits.

There's a pause, and Deanna seems to blink for a little too long. "It's - Sammy, I just keep on thinking. Dad's - Dad's gone."

It's the first time she's actually said it. Sam swallows; throat feels a little thick. "Yeah. I know."

"And I was just getting - you get used to things being one way, you know?" She runs a hand through her hair, shiny with grease like oil slicks. "It's always like that. You start getting used to things, and then - then some other shit happens. And suddenly things are a whole new way. Before you can even fucking -"

"What do you mean?"

"Sammy, I knew something was wrong. I - I think I knew all along. But - today..."

Sam does everything in his power to keep his growing anxiety out of his voice. "Where did you go today, Deanna?"

Her lips press together. She's still looking at her lap.

That dread expands, curdles, in Sam's gut. "Tell me."

Her hands are shaking against her thighs. "I - I went to the doctor."

That's absolutely the last thing Sam expected. "Since when do you go to the doctor?"

"I kinda had to."

Sam watches the little quiver of her fingers; and with that, he thinks back to the puking, the tiredness, how not right his sister looks. He thinks about Jess, how they were talking about what color to paint the living room 24 hours before she went up in flames on the ceiling. He thinks about Dad calmly sending him off for coffee before he…

Things are one way. Then suddenly they're another. Before you can blink, before you even remember your own name.

"Are you - are you sick?" Sam tries to keep his voice even.

Deanna isn't looking at him. "Kinda."

Sam thinks about Deanna hooked up to wires and machines. The miracle; how miracles don't happen. He's been harboring a little fear that there has to still be something wrong. A lacerated organ. A foreign object. Something they must have missed. But he thought - hoped - it was just that - a fear.

Sam sucks in a breath. "Okay. So - so what..."

Deanna smiles grimly. "Turns out I've got a parasite."

He watches Deanna shift. Her hand move towards one of the pockets of Dad's jacket. She keeps her eyes on her lap as she passes a small slip of paper to Sam. Small, rectangular. He takes it.

It's a moment or so before he realizes what he's seeing. Kind of like a photograph; a fuzzy sepia. Odd shapes that slowly begin to make sense.

"Ten weeks," Deanna says, her voice a little hoarse with disbelief. "I'm - I'm ten fucking weeks pregnant, Sammy."

Sam stares numbly at that ultrasound still. At the shapes, like two beans stacked on top of each other. Faint, fuzzy lines. Tiny arms. Tiny legs. He stares at them until they blur.

Ten weeks. Ten weeks since -

"So it's - " Sam can't finish the sentence.

"Yeah, Sammy. It's yours."

Her voice sounds very far away. And Sam can smell ash and fumes, traces of hospital grade body wash on Deanna's skin, skin that was bruised all over from cannulae and wires; and Sam couldn't catch his breath because Dad was gone, the last of him was just yards away on that burnt out pyre, gone; and Deanna's hands were on his face, tangled up in his hair, forehead pressed against his, and she was straddling his lap in the Impala's backseat, her eyes shut, muttering ssh, ssh over and over, maybe to Sam, or maybe to herself, but she kept saying it, even through the long kisses she kept pressing to his mouth; and Sam remembers he could barely see, he felt like he was choking on that ashy air, but he had Deanna, and he needed Deanna, he'd never needed her so much in his entire life. And Deanna understood, the way she's always understood things like that; and Deanna had kept on with her kissing and ssh-ing as she moved on top of him, fast, desperate, and Sam had clung onto her waist and met each roll of her hips, fast, anguished, because he couldn't get close enough, deep enough; and Deanna had been making these pitchy, breathless sounds like she was in pain, but she didn't stop Sam, and the whole time her eyes were wide and fixed on his face; and Sam remembers tangling her hair around his fingers like rope, he remembers arching up against her as he came, his body going through the motions, his senses numb to it. That numbness hasn't really left him since.

"Sammy, say something."

Deanna's voice, strained, cuts through the memory. Hauls Sam back to the present; Bowie, rotten oil, dead leaves. That autumnal breeze. His sister's face, tight and worried. Sam recognizes that pallor a little more now: shock.

It's passing through Sam as well. Of all the things he expected - this was nowhere on the list. Nowhere close.

"Alright," he manages eventually. Amazed at how calm he sounds. "What do you wanna do?" Because that's the thing to ask, right?

Deanna's lips twist again. "I mean - like, right away, I thought about just - you know - going off and taking care of it. Not even telling you. Just - "

"You wouldn't have told me?"

"I said I thought about it, Sam." She clicks her tongue; another rough wipe of her eyes. "I'm telling you now, aren't I?"

Sam keeps staring. Staring, at that image. That tiny, tiny baby.

"Is that what you want?" he manages, eventually. Hoarse as Deanna. "To - take care of it?"

Deanna's pause seems to roll around the length of the yard. Then, her eyes stray to her lap again. "You know, Dad used to lecture me about this shit. Made it very clear how disappointed he'd be if I ever accidentally got myself knocked up."

Sam says, "Really?"

"Yeah. All the time." There's something acidic in Deanna's voice. "And you know why he harped on about it so much?"

"Why?"

"Because he said it wouldn't be fair to bring a kid into all this. Into the life." Deanna laughs, this flat, one-note thing. Something sharp flashes through her eyes; something gone too quick for Sam to fully identify. "Can you believe he said that to me? After everything he..."

She stops. And Sam watches Deanna's face reset, as if she hadn't expressed something like anger towards Dad for the first time ever. Something like what Sam has been saying, feeling, thinking, ever since he was old enough to understand. Everything Deanna always denied.

"It wouldn't have to be the same." It comes out of Sam's mouth before he can catch up with it. "You know. The same as we had it."

Deanna keeps on looking at her lap.

"You -" Sam takes a breath. "You know that, right?"

Deanna sighs. More like the breath whipping out of her body. "I'm not gonna stop looking for the demon, Sammy."

She says it like she expected Sam to insist on it. He clarifies: "I'm not saying we do. I'm saying we make it work."

He has no idea how. No fucking idea. His brain hasn't quite absorbed what's in front of him yet, the news undigested; but he's certain, somehow, of that.

Deanna gives that odd laugh again. Sam isn't sure what it means, this time. "It's also..." She picks at that thread on her shirt again. "I mean, the doctor said it looked healthy. But what if it comes out and it's like, a cyclops or something?"

"Why would it be -"

Deanna's shoulders rise. "You've seen Deliverance, right?"

Oh.

Sam swallows. His eyes stray back to the picture. Not that he can see much; not that there's much to see. But there's enough there for Sam to think it looks absolutely perfect.

"There are risks," is all he can think to say. "But it's - you know. It's not completely inevitable."

Deanna narrows her eyes. "You've already looked this stuff up, haven't you?"

She says it in this accusatory way. Sam runs his thumb delicately across the grainy image. "There was always a chance this could happen, Dee."

Always a chance. They've never done much to mitigate it, really. There's not enough space in Sam's brain right now, to wonder why that is.

Deanna skips over it too. Runs a hand through that greasy hair. Her lips twist.

"I just think," she says, after a while, "even if it comes out with three heads, playing a fucking banjo... would I care? You know?"

She's still not quite meeting Sam's eyes. Sam prompts, "Would you?"

"I mean. It's not like it'd be the only freak in this family, right?" A smile spreads across her mouth. "Sammy, you know I wouldn't care. I'd -I'd love it no matter what."

"Me too." It comes out thick; Sam's never been more sure of anything in his life.

He hands Deanna back the picture; takes her hand, deceptively delicate and cold in his, as he watches her eyes fog up with tears again. She doesn't hide this time; leans in to press her forehead against Sam's, just like that night ten weeks ago, just like they've come full circle. And fuck, it feels like forever since Sam's been touched like this, touched by anyone; he's just wondering if leaning in for a kiss would be pushing it, when he feels Deanna's plump, dried out lips brushing his. They feel a little sticky, and there's this malodor to her breath, but Sam barely registers it. It's like coming home.

I missed you, he doesn't say; can't, when Deanna's mouth would smother it anyway. When Deanna would only screw her face up and call him a big girl, and he'd rattle with guilt about feeling a little humiliated by that, but he'd feel it anyway.

Deanna pulls away first. She's a little flushed, and Sam can faintly see the capillaries in her face, like pink lines on a map under her skin; she squeezes his hand, laces their fingers. Moves them together until Sam's palm is flat against her stomach, the warmth of her body underneath that worn flannel.

"I keep thinking I can feel it," she whispers. "Now I know it's there."

Sam watches their interlaced hands dumbly. Overwhelmed. He can too.

"I kinda hope it's a girl." Deanna's voice has that hoarse quality again. "So I can - so she can have a Mom. So she can have what I didn't have."

She says it at the exact moment Sam finds himself hoping it's a boy. His reasons are similar. But for someone who doesn't like to talk, Deanna's always been way better at articulating stuff like that.

"You'll be a great Mom, Dee," he says, firmly. You were to me.

"Alright. You don't need to kiss my ass." Deanna ruffles his hair, like she did when she kissed him goodnight as a kid.

It takes Sam a moment to find his voice again. "I mean it, Dee. We'll make it work." He says it with this conviction that rises up from somewhere deep. "And I'm gonna be here for you, alright? Every step of the way."

Deanna groans. "Jesus Christ. I knew you'd be like this."

But she's smiling. And Sam allows himself to as well.

"Sammy?"

"Yeah?"

“You know Dad would kill us, right? But man, do I wish he was here right now.”

She says it with a laugh in her voice, her face all twisted up; and Sam can't help but remember how he and Jess had talked about kids, vaguely, sometimes, kind of like a concept, a distant dream. How Sam had thought to himself about Dad a lot then, too, the way he never really stopped thinking about Dad and Deanna. He remembers wondering to himself whether Dad would be proud. Whether he'd even want a grandkid; if he'd want to know at all. Back then, Sam genuinely toyed with the idea that Dad wouldn't even care. Never come back, Sam.

It's not the same, now. Holy fuck, this is not the same, and it can probably only be a good thing that Dad's not here to know about this; so Sam pushes away the thought. He puts his arms around Deanna's waist and pulls her as close as he dares.

"It'll be okay," he says again, because he can't think of anything else. Because it has to be.

Deanna's looking at him kinda intently. "Sam, do you think this is Dad's way of like - you know - coming back?"

"Uh - what?"

Deanna shrugs. "Dunno. Just - hormones talking, I guess." She squeezes Sam's hand against her stomach. "Forget I said anything."

Sam's not sure he can. They don't say anything after that.

#asks #prompts #samdeanna #johndeanna if u squint #my writing #yes I know I literally always play in this part of the Canon sandbox #but whatever i invite you to sue me #cw discussions of abortion #cw childhood trauma #cw intergenerational trauma #cw incest #this came out very soft by my standards lol #well apart from all the incest and trauma #it's so heavy on the incest lol

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sniker28dog · 6 months ago

Text

@jakei95

ENGLISH:

Good evening everyone. Unfortunately, I have some very sad news to share. Today, Jael Penaloza, also known as Jakei, the creator of Underverse and Xtale, announced on her Twitter that she is ending Underverse due to the toxicity created by the fandom, which has affected her mental state. She decided to end the project, planning only to release Episode 0.8 Part 1 and conclude the story without a complete ending, which has been ongoing since the early days.

I believe everyone here has a special fondness for the work, and I invite you all to show your support for the creator.

In Undertale I Miss You, the server creator David is representing our Brazilian community in support of Jakei.

The server currently has a section dedicated to messages in English and fanarts in honor of Jakei, where he will post all the messages and artworks on Twitter to show both Jakei and the outside world the power of the Brazilian people’s love and respect for Underverse.

ESPAÑOL:

Buenas noches a todos. Lamentablemente, tengo una noticia muy triste que compartir. Hoy, Jael Penaloza, también conocida como Jakei, la creadora de Underverse y Xtale, anunció en su Twitter que está poniendo fin a Underverse debido a la toxicidad creada por la fandom, que ha afectado su estado mental. Decidió terminar el proyecto, planeando solo lanzar el Episodio 0.8 Parte 1 y concluir la historia sin un final completo, que ha estado en pie desde los primeros días.

Creo que todos aquí tienen un cariño especial por la obra, y los invito a mostrar su apoyo a la creadora.

En Undertale I Miss You, el creador del servidor, David, está representando a nuestra comunidad brasileña en apoyo a Jakei.

El servidor actualmente tiene una sección dedicada a mensajes en inglés y fanarts en honor a Jakei, donde publicará todos los mensajes y artes en Twitter para mostrar tanto a Jakei como al mundo exterior el poder del amor y respeto del pueblo brasileño por Underverse

國語:

大家晚上好。不幸的是，我有一个非常悲伤的消息要分享。今天，Jael Penaloza，也就是Jakei，Underverse 和 Xtale 的创作者，在她的 Twitter 上宣布，由于粉丝圈的毒性影响了她的心理状态，她决定结束 Underverse 项目，只打算发布第0.8集第一部分，并在没有完整结局的情况下结束这个自早期以来一直存在的故事。

我相信大家对这部作品都有特别的感情，我邀请大家来支持创作者。

在 Undertale I Miss You 中，服务器创始人 David 正在代表我们的巴西社区支持 Jakei。

该服务器目前有一个专门的部分，用于展示对 Jakei 的英语消息和粉丝艺术，他将把所有的消息和艺术品发布到 Twitter 上，以向 Jakei 和外界展示巴西人民对 Underverse 的爱与尊重的力量。

阿拉伯语:

مساء الخير جميعاً. للأسف، لدي خبر حزين جداً لأشاركه. اليوم، أعلنت جايل بينالوزا، المعروفة أيضاً باسم جيكي، مبتكرة Underverse وXtale، عبر تويتر أنها تنهي مشروع Underverse بسبب السمية التي أوجدها المعجبون، والتي أثرت على حالتها العقلية. قررت إنهاء المشروع، مع التخطيط فقط لإصدار الحلقة 0.8 الجزء 1، وإنهاء القصة دون نهاية كاملة، التي كانت مستمرة منذ الأيام الأولى.

أعتقد أن الجميع هنا يحملون محبة خاصة للعمل، وأدعوكم جميعاً لدعم المبدعة.

في Undertale I Miss You، يمثل مؤسس الخادم، ديفيد، مجتمعنا البرازيلي لدعم جيكي.

يحتوي الخادم حالياً على قسم مخصص للرسائل باللغة الإنجليزية والفنات في تكريم جيكي، حيث سينشر جميع الرسائل والأعمال الفنية على تويتر لعرض قوة حب واحترام الشعب البرازيلي لـ Underverse.

Русский:

Добрый вечер всем. К сожалению, у меня есть очень печальная новость. Сегодня Джейл Пеналоза, также известная как Джакей, создательница Underverse и Xtale, объявила в своем Твиттере, что завершает проект Underverse из-за токсичности, созданной фанатами, которая повлияла на ее психическое состояние. Она решила закончить проект, планируя выпустить только Эпизод 0.8 Часть 1 и завершить историю без полного окончания, которая существует с самых первых дней.

Я верю, что у всех здесь есть особое отношение к этому произведению, и я приглашаю всех поддержать создателя.

В Undertale I Miss You создатель сервера Дэвид представляет наше бразильское сообщество в поддержку Джакей.

В сервере сейчас есть раздел, посвященный сообщениям на английском языке и фанартам в честь Джакей, где он разместит все сообщения и арты в Твиттере, чтобы показать Джакей и всему миру силу любви и уважения бразильского народа к Underverse.

❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❦❧❦❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❦❧

Estou divulgando este server principalmente para o público brasileiro e/ou que apoiam Underverse.

🐦X(Twitter)

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