#jesu joy of mans desiring

[th3-0bjectivist]

Dear listener, I turned on my car radio for about five hours on a long drive this week and found myself suffering and appalled through the advert-heavy and song-lite nature of it all. Seriously, this is what passes for radio programming these days? The ninety-nine and one-half trillionth T-Swift breakup ballad? Pop-country tunes that manage to all sound the EXACT same as the previous pop-country tune?? Radio rock stations featuring tunes with less balls than a castrati troupe!? Modern hip-hop/rap music that all sounds roughly equivalent to setting up a lawncare sprinkler system in my car only without the water!!? Nine-to-ten agonizing commercials in a row before you get to the commercial-free hour, only to be then reminded between each individual song that it’s the commercial free music hour!!??!?!!?? I flipped from station to station hoping for some form of alleviation, for SOME hope that music is still alive and well on the radio in 2023. Y’know what I found out? The absolute BEST music programming on modern radio is based on tunes created around two to three centuries ago. That’s right folks! The best radio station I came across was a classical one. The classical radio deejay was informative, his voice was soft and pleasant, there were minimal commercials and the musical interludes lasted forty-five minutes at a stretch until the next commercial break. Inspired by this, until the end of 2023, I’ll be posting 3 classical tune sets (Bach, Vivaldi, and Brahms) starting with my personal favorite German musician of all-time, Johann Sebastian Bach.

Generally regarded as one of the greatest composers in the history of Western culture, this man was truly fit for the title ‘Master of Composition’. Starting off as a mega-talented organ player and violinist, Bach had a distinct flair for blending widely varying instruments and regional musical styles, regularly synthesizing multifarious sound techniques to make a noise ain’t nobody on Earth had heard before. Having been employed by local churches early on, Bach began composing his own ‘sacred music’ (see also ‘church music’) and being something of a musical jack-of-all-trades engaged in his own ‘non-secular’ works which did not jive with very simply defined and rigid church traditions. Having a penchant for engineering complex and experimental arrangements, Bach developed a special talent for weaving melodic lines and immensely complex interdependent harmonies together to provide compositional structures that were simply second to NONE in the early 1700’s and even up to this very day. His concertos for orchestras, sonatas, suites, cantatas, keyboard works, choral works and organ works really are the stuff of legend which is why they are hailed up to the current day! I could go on endlessly about his accolades, but instead I’ll just leave you with the following final thought. Some of Bach’s individual works are like observing an incredibly detailed drawing or painting, except with audio. If you concentrate enough on a single piece, you’ll very clearly hear the overlapping elements, the solid lines accompanied by the abstract rudiments floating softly in the background and be moved emotionally by the very physics of the harmonic motions. It’s not just the melodic nature of the man’s tunes, but also the harmony that accompanies them. Smash play and enjoy a variation of Cantata BWV 147: Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring and experience for yourself why people like Bach were truly the rock stars of their era. And if you want more, like way more, click just below for The Best of Bach and enjoy!

He also married his own cousin, had 20 children through separate wives, and died after eye surgery in 1750. I like to separate the art from the artist on my blog. Nobody’s perfect, it was different times back then with vastly inferior social and medical standards at play. I don’t judge too harshly. I mean, he was so talented that Duke Wilhelm had him imprisoned after Bach simply tried to leave the Duke’s royal court to find a better gig. He did something that the vast majority of modern musicians just can’t seem to be bothered to do… innovate (to simplify that word for modern musicians, it means creating brand NEW stuff that no one has heard of or tried before, you’re welcome…)! And for that reason, he has more than earned his placed in the annals of human history as one, if not the greatest composer, and my personal favorite classical composer of all time. Image source: https://www.nationalgeographic.co.uk/history-and-civilisation/2019/07/how-bachs-anatomy-may-have-handed-him-greatness

[a-suspicious-lack-of-bagel]

welp! my presentation went So much better than I was expecting but I may have gone on a sidetrack explaining temperament and taken 3 minutes longer than I was supposed to. ah well! I think my lecturer enjoyed it

[culturevulturette]

When I was a kid in high school orchestra, the thing was to rip through this as fast as one could just to show off.

Yes, I appreciate the nuance of the piece a tad more now.

[curiosityschild]

Speaking of christmas eve outfit my brother's girlfriend told me that the person sitting behind her at the service last night told her "that boy is very good at the piano!" that's me I'm the boy who's good at the piano

[onehellofashipper]

I can never just listen to one Bach piece, I always have to listen to more after I finish the first one

[thewisemankey]

Well played!

[olderthannetfic]

I was reading a fic and genuinely enjoying myself up until the author decided to make a huge deal, in their AN, about how their protagonist is bi. As in ACTUALLY bi, not that stupid "straight with one exception" trash homophobic fujoshits write. I'm a cis man. I am heterosexual with exactly one exception. I don't know why. I went through years telling myself I was just confused. I heard from my queer friends at the time that only being interested in one other man wasn't a thing, that it was actually me being confused in the other direction, hiding all my crushes and desires from myself.

My family was convinced I was straight. My friends were convinced I was bi for a lot of men, I just wasn't admitting it. My now husband was the only one who told me it was fine. He's gay and he had a crush on one woman, once. Exceptions happen.

So at the risk of siding with the dreaded (presumed cis, presumed het, presumed white) enemy known as women, I... actually like the whole "if it's you, it's okay" thing. I don't assume an evil fetishizer who hates queers is writing it. It never reads that way. It reads as a story, just like any other story. A way to be queer just like any other valid option. Queerness is a spectrum. Not everyone is bi in the same way or gay or lesbian or anything else. The Kinsey Scale exists for a reason.

I spent five years in and out of therapy and church trying to fix myself. Being bi in any way was too much for my family. It was "get rid of the gay or get out" territory of panic. I could have a family or I could have my feelings for him. Choosing him involved giving up everyone I had grown up with. It involved years further of "so you can admit now that you had other male crushes, right?" no matter how many times I said no until I had to cut some queer friends out of my life, too.

And I'm not "ACTUALLY bi", apparently. I'm a trashy homophobic stereotype fujoshi came up with. I'm not actually bi. Real bi men have an equal number of women and men they're into. Bi is code for 50/50 or else you're, you know. Basically fictional. Definitely doing it wrong.

Upon some digging, I found out the writer is a lesbian woman. You would think with all the shit lesbians get she'd know better. I've seen people try to tell lesbians they aren't lesbians because "oh you dated a guy once" or "uh, you had sex with a man, you can't be" and all kind of shit that makes no sense whatsoever. So for her to turn around and go, "there is a single correct way to be a bi man" is just insane. Ma'am. Ma'am. You should know that's not how queerness works! You're queer!

This has annoyed me so much that for the first time in nine years I have pulled up a Microsoft Word document and I am writing fanfic. I am going to write so much It's Okay If It's You, one-exception-only queer fanfic.

Because it's fine to be queer even if it's this way, actually. It's fine to be queer, period! There are not rigid rules to it, that's one of the biggest joys of it!

I feel so old and tired and I'm only 40. Jesus Christ. "ACTUALLY bi". Fuck. The world is broken.

--

[borninwinter81]

William Blake - an introduction for Good Omens fans

I have sent @neil-gaiman an ask regarding his feelings toward the poet/artist William Blake a couple of times, but no doubt due to the size of the poor man's inbox I haven't received a response. So I did a Google search to see if he's spoken about Blake before, and it did indeed come up with a fair few hits. I think you might enjoy seeing this Twitter post if you haven't already, the painting is from William Blake's illustrations to Paradise Lost.

It's not surprising that an author like Neil Gaiman might have an interest in Blake. A visionary from a young age, his imagination was such that he was surrounded by angels made visible in his mind's eye, and he interpreted these visions through poetry, painting and engraving, and self-printed and published many of his own works. This gave him complete freedom to say exactly what he wanted.

Though he had a passionate faith in God, he also had a deep distrust of the church as an institution, and disliked the use of religion as a means of control. This poem from "Songs of Experience" perhaps summarises his feelings best:

"I went to the Garden of Love,

And saw what I never had seen:

A Chapel was built in the midst,

Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut,

And 'Thou shalt not' writ over the door;

So I turn'd to the Garden of Love,

That so many sweet flowers bore. 

And I saw it was filled with graves,

And tomb-stones where flowers should be:

And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,

And binding with briars, my joys & desires."

In his poetry there is often an incongruity with the generally accepted religious ideas of what is good and evil, Angel and Demon. In The Marriage of Heaven and Hell (there's a title that should make any GO fan sit up and pay attention) he tells us that "in the book of Job, Milton's Messiah is called Satan", signifying that he feels it is Lucifer/the devil who is the true Messiah of Paradise Lost.

He gives us The Voice of the Devil and Proverbs of Hell, and has Angels being transformed into Demons through enlightenment. He tells us that Jesus broke all of the 10 commandments, yet was still virtuous because he acted according to his own morality rather than rules.

The god-figure of his later works, Urizen, generally comes across as malevolent, seeking to bind and control, whilst Los, the Satan/Messiah figure represents freedom, imagination and creativity.

"Restraining desire" and acting contrary to your own nature seem to be the only real evils for Blake.

He expressed his faith through a love of the world and the beauty in it, summed up in this quote:

"When the Sun rises do you not see a round Disk of fire somewhat like a Guinea? O no no I see an innumerable company of the Heavenly host crying Holy Holy Holy is the Lord God Almighty".

He saw "God" in everything, in all the wonders we have around us, and considered writers/poets and religious prophets as essentially the same, since they both have a connection to the divine, and express it through stories.

It's quite ironic that probably his most famous poem, Jerusalem (the one that starts "and did those feet in ancient times walk upon England's mountains green"), was made into a very popular church hymn, yet it is supposed to be satirical in nature. The poem recounts the myth that Jesus may have visited England in his boyhood, and Blake is expressing his disbelief at that notion and the unworthiness of England.

Did I have a point to all this? Mostly to show my hand as a massive Blake nerd, but also to hopefully demonstrate that there's a lot of common ground between his ideas and those expressed in a show/book like Good Omens, and hopefully to inspire some of you who may not be familiar with Blake to seek him out. In particular I'd recommend The Marriage of Heaven and Hell to any and all.

EDIT: I should have thought to include this, here's Michael Sheen reading a Blake poem. I have the CD this is from, he reads several by Blake, as well as other poets I love ❤️ 😍

[ieatchromebooks]

i cannot put into words how fucking embarrassing it is that most of my comfort characters are also characters i think are hot. now what do you MEAN i wanna rearrange zappa guilty gear’s guts?? why can’t i just look at him and smile and giggle without thinking abt bending him over. he’s cute yeah don’t get me wrong but jesus man. i can count the amount of times i’ve drawn him with his pants on with one hand. the autism is strong but so is the libido.

i don’t know WHAT higher power thought this would be funny. like yeah sure i guess i do think avery pokemon is hot! sure man! cool! he’s not just blorbo to me or whatever he’s a slutty boytoy malewife! yep mhm! do you not understand how annoying this is. i went to the doctor and i got a note that says “you are NOT NORMAL!” like in dream’s mask music video. i understand porn addicts and gooners but at what cost. i never wanted this to be the case i think i’d rather turn into dust.

no, brain, i wouldn’t like to desire this character carnally today thank you. yes i do get joy from thinking abt tying up a funny guy to a bed (consensually) and whimpering, forgive my crudeness, but i would muuuuch rather be like. normal about it, y’know? like to just giggle and kick my feet. not to giggle, kick my feet, and immediately open up a blank canvas on ibis. not saying it gets hard to focus or anything i’m able to control what i focus on pretty alright but damn is it distracting. i would like it to be comfort only sometimes. even if it is kinda funny to be so down bad about a fictional british guy with a funny voice and a funny joyous charismatic personality. it’s so fucking pathetic !!!! and not in the sexy way !!!!!!!!

tl;dr i want to fistfight god for making me so horrendously down bad for some of the blorbos from my games

[kimingyuslover]

WONWOO FIC RECS

scandal by @fantasyescapes17 (regency!au, fluff, angst, kinda enemies to lovers!au) pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4

The Viscount's sister with an enormous dowry, beauty and unmistakable talent- you began the London season as the most desired woman in any room. But Jeon Wonwoo (a man who would rather hide in the library than dance at a ball) was beyond your comprehension. Curiosity might have killed the cat, but it embroiled you into a scandal with a man you could never love.

the peephole by @rubyreduji (smut)

➥ wonwoo can’t stop thinking about how he wants to ruin his roommate, the peephole in his wall isn’t helping tamper those desires either

neurosurgery department by @taeyegu (fluff, angst, some humor, friends to lovers!au)

“if there is a nice person, please introduce him to me. sometimes like water, sometimes like fire. someone who can love me sincerely. i hope he is someone who is mature and faithful…” (introduce me a good person, joy)

getting closer (angst, smut, crime!au, Joker!Jeon Wonwoo x Chief Inspector!fem!reader) by @multi-kpop-fanfic

Summary: Four months. It has taken inspector Y/N L/N four months to get her hands on Jeon Wonwoo, the maniac, Joker-like criminal, who has thrown the city into total fear. The same criminal who has an obsession with the inspector, because she's the only one who can grant him his greatest wish. They need each other to fulfill their goals and there's only one way - by getting closer to each other, one last time.  

bloodily safe by @starlightxsvt (psychological thriller? camgirl au, college au, smut)

synopsis ➳ you have a little secret. one you are desperately hiding. yet the boy you have a crush on has figured it out. now a game of cat and mouse has begun. how do you make it out alive?

game on by @starlightxsvt (pt. 2 of bloodily safe, smut)

synopsis ► ❝ there has not been a single uninteresting moment since you have started living with wonwoo. as halloween rolls around, things only get more riveting. ❞

twisted fate by @smileysuh (smut, some fluff, vampire!wonwoo, vampire hunter!reader, soulmate!au, enemies to lovers!au)

💙 preview. “He deserved it,” Wonwoo assures you, reaching out to grab you by the back of the neck, pulling you closer. He’s covered in blood, and he looks like a sexy, wild monster. But he’s your monster, and you can’t help but react, leaning in- “Jesus Christ,” you hear Jeonghan breathe, turning to give you and Wonwoo privacy while he presses his lips against yours hungrily. At first, you can try to ignore the wet liquid on your fingertips as you grab at his strong shoulders, but you can’t ignore the taste on his tongue. Your body goes rigid and Wonwoo pulls back with a sigh, resting his forehead against yours. It’s an oddly peaceful moment amongst the chaos.

anteric by @smileysuh (smut, friends to lovers!au, frat!au, fake dating!au, ft. mingyu)

💙 preview. when you bump into the guy that ghosted you, your model best friend and roommate, Mingyu, steps up to be your fake boyfriend for the night... and when the asshole is hired at your workplace, your other roommate, twitch gamer Wonwoo, is roped into the charade too - “polyamory exists dude, get over it.”

work husband by @rubyreduji (fluff, ft. mingyu, office!au)

summary: your two coworkers get a bit too involved in becoming your “work husband”

to my youth by @viastro (slice of life!au, smau, fluff, humor, angst)

ミ☆ synopsis: in a world where everyone finds out who loves them within a 10 meter radius through the app love alarm, confessing your feelings without the use of the app is no longer considered normal. however, you refuse to download it in hopes that you’ll be able to fall in love without being dependent on love alarm.

[transit-fag]

As they took him from the cross I, the centurion, took him in my arms- the tough lean body of a man no longer young, beardless, breathless, but well hung.

He was still warm. While they prepared the tomb I kept guard over him. His mother and the Magdalen had gone to fetch clean linen to shroud his nakedness.

I was alone with him. For the last time I kissed his mouth. My tongue found his, bitter with death. I licked his wound- the blood was harsh For the last time I laid my lips around the tip of that great cock, the instrument of our salvation, our eternal joy. The shaft, still throbbed, anointed with death's final ejaculation

I knew he'd had it off with other men- with Herod's guards, with Pontius Pilate, With John the Baptist, with Paul of Tarsus with foxy Judas, a great kisser, with the rest of the Twelve, together and apart. He loved all men, body, soul and spirit. - even me.

So now I took off my uniform, and, naked, lay together with him in his desolation, caressing every shadow of his cooling flesh, hugging him and trying to warm him back to life. Slowly the fire in his thighs went out, while I grew hotter with unearthly love.

It was the only way I knew to speak our love's proud name, to tell him of my long devotion, my desire, my dread- something we had never talked about. My spear, wet with blood, his dear, broken body all open wounds, and in each wound his side, his back, his mouth - I came and came and came

as if each coming was my last. And then the miracle possessed us. I felt him enter into me, and fiercely spend his spirit's finbal seed within my hole, my soul, pulse upon pulse, unto the ends of the earth- he crucified me with him into kingdom come.

-This is the passionate and blissful crucifixion same-sex lovers suffer, patiently and gladly. They inflict these loving injuries of joy and grace one upon the other, till they dies of lust and pain within the horny paradise of one another's limbs, with one voice cry to heaven in a last divine release.

Then lie long together, peacefully entwined, with hope of resurrection, as we did, on that green hill far away. But before we rose again, they came and took him from me. They knew not what we had done, but felt no shame or anger. Rather they were glad for us, and blessed us, as would he, who loved all men.

And after three long, lonely days, like years, in which I roamed the gardens of my grief seeking for him, my one friend who had gone from me, he rose from sleep, at dawn, and showed himself to me before all others. And took me to him with the love that now forever dares to speak its name.

Jesus Pornography in my tumblr inbox??

[featherandferns]

day 5/24 - obx christmas countdown

‘He’s the little boy that Santa Claus forgot, and goodness knows, he didn’t want a lot’ - Nat King Cole, The Little Boy That Santa Claus Forgot | angst-fluff

There’s a wonder-like joy that overcomes every girl and boy on Christmas Eve and Day. A round bellied old man with a beard white as snow and suit as red as rubies, who rides a magic sleigh that flies through the air, piled high with presents of all shapes and sizes. Quirky reindeer guide him through the night, their hooves never once touching ground, with rhyming names and shiny red noses at the head of the group. You write a letter and list all the things your heart desires, and send it off to the North Pole. You hunker down in your bed and will yourself to sleep despite the pounding excitement in your chest knowing that he’s on his way! 

JJ loved Christmas. He loved the glitter and the glitz of the lights and decorations. His dad never did much bother with it but the department stores in town, especially those in Figure Eight - boy, oh, boy, did they go all out! The town centre had a huge tree decorated from head to toe and at school they’d make crafts and cards. JJ had worked tirelessly on the one for his dad, made out of red and gold crinkle paper. He loved the food and the feasts. The turkey and the stuffing and the pies and cakes. His dad never did much bother with it but Pope’s dad went all out! It was mouth watering, the smells the kitchen filled with. Leftover sandwiches were part of the holiday, to JJ. He loved the music and the movies. His dad never did much bother with it but John B insisted on watching the Snoopy Christmas Special every year, without fail. They’d indulge in popcorn and candies and make their way through all the classic holiday flicks. Yes, it was safe to say that JJ loved Christmas. 

Whilst JJ’s dad didn’t care about the traditions, he was always there Christmas morning. There were gifts under the tree and his dad would lounge on the sofa and watch JJ unwrap them, nodding in approval and grunting in acknowledgement. On really good years, he’d show an interest in trying out some of the toys. One time he even bought JJ a fishing rod of his own. That was the best Christmas ever. 

On Christmas Eve on JJ’s eighth year, he followed the rules. He’d written his letter plenty in advance and mailed his off with Pope and John B’s. He’d gone to Church and said his prayers and sang the hymns for Jesus. Finally, he’d laid out two biscuits (they were a little stale but he was sure Santa wouldn’t mind all that much!) and a carrot for Rudolph (though he hoped the other reindeer might get a nibble too), and a glass of milk as per requirement. Then, he’d scampered off to bed and pulled the cover up to his chin, and squeezed his eyes shut until sleep willed him under. 

When JJ woke up on Christmas Day, he shot up like he’d drank fifteen cups of coffee. It was light outside and his blinking alarm clock told him it was morning. He threw the blanket off him and jumped down onto the floor from his bed. His bare feet smacked loudly against the hard wooden floors as he raced into the living room, grinning, brimming with excitement. 

Then, he slowed to a stop. 

The milk was still there. Not a drop missing. The biscuits were too, as was the carrot. JJ’s heart sank deep into his stomach. His eyes scanned over to the tree, barren of decorations, wilting at the leaves. Nothing. Not a single parcel or present. Not a giftbag or toy. No fishing rod. Only the handmade Christmas card JJ had made his dad. 

Maybe…Maybe Santa was just running late. He had the entire world to get too, of course. Yes, yeah, that’s what it’ll be. His dad will know. 

JJ walks to his dad’s bedroom door and pauses outside for sounds of life. No snores. He knocks twice then eases the door open on creaking hinges. The bed is empty, devoid of any sign that his dad had slept there at all. Maybe he was out collecting food for dinner. Yes, sure, they were going to have a proper Christmas dinner! 

Despite his attempts for optimism, JJ feels his spirits sagging with every step back to his bedroom. He dresses in silence. Pulls on his shoes and fastens his jacket. He can’t bare to look at the tree and biscuits and milk in fear of crying. Instead, he heads out the door in search of his father. 

There aren’t too many people out on the streets of Kildare this early on Christmas morning. Those who are, are family. Mothers walking hand in hand with their daughters. Little boys playing catch with their dads. Siblings comparing toys and trying out new bikes and tricycles. JJ shoves his hands in his pockets and swallows the envy. An unnatural feeling simmers deep inside of him. Something like frustration. Something like anger. 

Somewhere in his walk, he gives up on the hunt for his father. He gives up on reasoning that Santa was running late. If he was late, how did all the other children in Kildare have their presents? As JJ walked, he came to the sick, solemn, sad realisation that he was the little boy that Santa Claus forgot. 

“Hey! JJ!”

JJ freezes in the street at the sound of his name. He looks around and finds you rushing out the bakery. He recognised you from school. You were the pretty girl at the front of the class. You always wore you hair the same way, complete with a bow, and it seems today was no exception. You were known for being the peacemaker among fallings out and the girl who lingered after class to help tidy up. Smart and savvy, you were top of the class too, but you didn’t kiss ass in the way that would usually irritate JJ. Instead, you’d help your tablemate finish their work too. 

JJ’s surprised you even know his name. He’s even more surprised when you practically tackle him in a hug. JJ stands like a statue for a second before he hesitantly wraps his arms around your dainty frame, hugging you back. 

“Merry Christmas, JJ,” you say warmly against him. 

Tears spring to JJ’s eyes. You were the first person to say that to him today. 

Pulling away, JJ stares at you in shock, unsure of what to say. Your mouth parts with a gasp. “Wait here!”

JJ does as he’s told. He doesn’t have anywhere to be, afterall. You rush back into your parent’s bakery - Kildare’s Cakes - and waits for a short while until you reappear. In your hand is a warm chocolate chip muffin, wrapped in a snowman covered napkin. You hold it out to him. 

“Your present!” you beam. 

JJ stares at it like he’s never been on earth before. Steam rises off the top; the sponge breaking temptingly at the top, showing the gooey chocolate chips inside. Its sweet smell drifts into the fresh air of December. JJ slowly reaches out and takes it from you. 

“Thanks,” he murmurs. His first Christmas present and, what would later turn out to be, his only Christmas present that year. 

You linger and seem unsure of what else to say. So, with a nod and a smile, you hurry out, “well, I better get back inside. I hope you have a wonderful day though!”

Then, quick as dasher, you dart forward and press a warm kiss to his cheek. JJ blinks after you as you wave farewell, returning back into the shop and closing the door. That small act was the catalyst to JJ’s feelings for you, that only grew as time went on. Now, married, with children of your own, no matter how many gifts and how many dinners and how many songs and movies: JJ decided that his eight Christmas was his favourite Christmas of all. Santa might have forgotten about him; but you surely didn’t.

[c64screengrabs]

Published in 1983 by Hal Laboratory, Slalom (also known as Ski) was the C64's first skiing game. Although it likely looks excruciatingly boring to today's kids, us 80's kids loved it; A good number of obstacles, the ability to speed up or slow down if you wanted (complete with snow-whooshing sounds) and a pleasant, if loud, soundtrack made this race a fun one. There a 6 courses with rising challenges in each, such as bunnies dashing across the track and additional obstacles and checkpoints. You get treated to a few song snippets, such as See the Conquering Hero Comes and Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring; I can only wonder what Handel and Bach would have thought of their pieces used in this game (their heads would have probably exploded just trying to comprehend a video game to begin with). Finishing a course rewards you with a nice bit of crowd applause audio. Japanese developer Hal Laboratory is also the brains behind Kirby and other classic games.

[hello-vampire-kitty]

Servamp April Fools' event

Tanaka Strike reposted the event from 2023 that was about voting for characters' abilities/techniques. The first time I didn't look into the the event and I was surprised to see that among the abilities that were listed, there were a few that were revealed later in the manga,  for example Kuro's Wiedergänger (Ashes to ashes, dust to dust) that appeared in chapter 133.

In March 2023, chapter 128 was published, so it was 5 chapters later when the name of the ability was introduced in the story.

For the event, some characters have abilities that were marked as “lies” because they didn't appear in the manga however, Kuro’s ability was marked as a lie but that was actually true after all!

So yeah, Tanaka-sensei was playing with us. xD Abilities have two readings and you'll see that some of them either have one reading which is different or they some readings were assigned to other characters.

Mahiru: “Why is truth and falsehoods mixed in? Only the actual abilities should be voted!

Kuro: “Mahiru…In this world, you can’t survive on truth alone...

Kuro offering words of wisdom xD The abilities that were marked as "lies" have conversations or comments from characters which I translated.

Note: I listed the abilities based on the characters' names in alphabetical order.

GEAR

Mister Violence (Antique clock of night trick)

This is a reference to “Gear of Night Trick” on TanakaBox and that’s why I worded the translation like this. The clock referenced here must be Hlidskjalf. I wrote about it here when I posted chapter 96.

Youtarou: It's not an ability, it's just brute strength, isn't it?

Gear: I'm a wolf so I have no choice. It's a world that's tough to live in for someone like me.

Youtarou: Honestly! You always act like a wolf at times like this!

HYDE

Cute aggression (The Taming Of The Shrew).

Hyde: This is the most powerful ultimate technique that charms everyone! Kyui!

J-just joking...I don't have a technique like that... I'm s-sorry...I said I'm sorry...

JEJE

Mary Magdalene (Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring)

In chapter 125 when Jeje was given his name by Mikuni, his contract item was the winding key from the music box that Kiriko gave to Mikuni and I read that fans discovered that the song it was playing was "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring"

Jeje: This technique isn't... It's a lie...

KURO

Wiedergänger (Ashes to ashes, dust to dust)

Mahiru: Hey! If you're gonna lie, you should make it sound like it's… obviously a joke, or it'll just confuse people.

Kuro: Yeah...I don't really have a cool technique name. I'm just a humble cat...

LILY

Turandot (None shall sleep) Like I mentioned in the beginning, this is one ability that was given a different reading. The actual one is "The king is absent today as well." "None shall sleep " (Nessun dorma) is an aria from the final act of Turandot.

Mahiru: You had a technique like that?

Lily: Fufufu...Well… you could say it exists, or you could say it doesn't. Reality is such an uncertain thing. You should also be careful.

MISONO

Bridge falling down (The king is absent today as well)

So yeah, it's Misono and Lily that had their ability names switched and were also given different readings. The different reading is most likely a reference to the nursery rhyme "London Bridge Is Falling Down". And we don't have Misono, we have Mikado who comments about the ability xD

Mikado: Didn't Misono have a powerful technique like that?! Did you make it sound like it existed, Dodo?! Dodo: I included it as an option. Mikado: Nice work! Just for today, even a lie is permitted. I can’t believe Misono had only one technique, and it was from ten years ago (in real time)…As a parent I must do behind-the-scenes... Dodo: Young master is already in high-school...It's about time you... Mikado: This is a parent's duty! Should I add another one?!

SAKUYA

I will die yesterday by your side (Five-minute hypothesis theory)

Sakuya used this ability in chapter 139, however in the manga it says five "seconds" not minutes. The first reading sounds weird...Like, I haven't found a reference for it. "To die" is in the present tense even though it says "yesterday", so yeah, it's weird. I expected that it would be the name of a novel but I haven't found anything, so if some of you might have an idea about it, let me know!

Sakuya: I used this ability in the fight against Mahiru, didn’t I? It was such an emotional technique where I self-destructed to protect him. Tsubaki: Have you actually been reading Servamp??

TOUMA

The Beast of Gévaudan (The beast that crawls in a windowless room) (note, for the first part it's actually in French, La bête du Gévaudan)

Touma: What’s the deal with finishing moves? Aren’t you too old for this?

Iori: You're the one that has the most of them though....

Tooru: Shh!

TSUBAKI

Mahoroba (Under the moonlit night, rain and carnage)

Mahoroba isn't something that can be translated. It's a term that refers to an idyllic or perfect place, often associated with paradise or a beautiful land. The dictionary defines it as "great and splendid land (of Yamato)"

The other name of the ability is the title of chapter 84, which I initially translated as "On a moonlit night, rain and bloodshed"

Tsubaki: I don't recall mentioning such a technique name, but it seems okay as it is.

Ultimate Super Wars (Super Ultimate Form-Tsubaki-)

Tsubaki had another ability and when I googled アルティメットスーパーウォーズ a novel, I assume, showed up but I couldn't find much about it. Based on the cover of the book, I thought it was adapted based on a videogame but I didn't find a game with that title, so yeah, the name of the ability might not be related to it. Regarding these kanji 津薔鬼, they spell Tsubaki.

Tsubaki: Are there people who actually call me by such uncool name?

Get ready for an awesome technique in the next issue! Or perhaps the one after that.

YUMIKAGE

Valkyrie Brunhilde (Swan Lake)

Yumikage: This is actually my brother's...But I have many cool name ideas for my own abilities.

[little-diable]

Sins, desires, longings - Dean Winchester (smut)

A big thank you to @deathofpeaceofmind for inspiring this! This came to us as I shared the lyrics of the song "No Mercy" by Austin Giorgio. This could have a part two? Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Dean thinks Sam is dead, hence why he tries to rip himself free from his old life, which means leaving (y/n) behind. But as he hides away in a church, slipping into the role of a priest, he keeps committing sins. Or: pwp

Warnings: 18+, piv smut, jerking off, religious connotations, priest!Dean, pretty much pwp

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (1.6k words)

The sound of his boots meeting the ground echoed through the cold church, echoing off the walls like the cries of those burying Jesus had echoed through the afternoon air. With his forest green eyes focused on the altar, Dead dropped to his knees, making a cross sign with two fingers before he clasped his hands together.

His eyes fluttered close, speaking a prayer he had learned a few days ago, trying to swallow down the thoughts welling up in his mind, wanting to drown him like the waves Moses had parted had tried to do. Dean had to focus on the words that left him, rolling off his tongue all too easily.

It was a strange sight, a sight so foreign that those who have once crossed paths with the hunter wouldn’t believe their own eyes. Without opening his eyes, Dean’s hand began to move up his chest, finding the rosary dangling from his neck. Slowly he grasped the pearls, wooden beads that took his mind off the prayer he should focus on.

“Dean.” She whispered his name, eyes rolling back into her head as his tongue found its way to her inner thighs, smirking against her skin. Once again (y/n) called out his name, arching her back off the mattress, giving into the strong feeling. With his tongue pressing against her arousal covered folds, his fingers started moving, circling her pulsing bundle. 

“Mhm, tastes so sweet, darling.” The praise made her gasp, unable to bite down her moans. He had her trapped, was still wearing the collar around his neck, was still wearing the rosary dangling from his neck - perfectly taking on the role of a priest. 

Another hunt had lured them into this town, forcing the two to act as people they have never wanted to be. And yet the two of them found their joy in tricking those that were too oblivious for their own good. 

“Fuck, don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

“Dean, there you are!” John’s voice ripped Dean out of his flashback, having to clear his throat as he tried to forget the memory he had just been forced to live through once again. The elderly priest came to a halt next to Dean’s kneeling frame, waiting for the younger man to rise to his feet. “How are we feeling today? Are you ready for our service?”

“I’m getting there, thank you, John.” Dean had lost count on the days flashing past ever since Sam’s death, days that had a dark touch to them, forcing the older Winchester brother to leave his old life behind, to leave his memories behind, to leave her behind. Her. The woman who owned his heart, the woman he had unleashed his anger upon as he worked through Sam’s death. 

Dean had decided to run, had left all his things behind – besides Baby – had decided to join a church he had known for years, begging the priest that knew him better than others to take him in. And now he was here, living a life he had once made fun of, a calm life that focused on prayers, on services, on those in need. But perhaps this life wasn’t as different as the one he had lead weeks ago, set on helping those that needed him. 

“It always takes its time, and that is alright, Dean. God is good, he wants to give you time to grieve.” John’s words forced tears to well up in Dean’s green eyes, forced to choke on the knot growing in his throat, unable to reply. His body was trembling, forced into another memory he had tried to bury six feet under. 

“Fuck, I love you, I love you so much, sweetheart.” Dean’s pants filled Baby, eyes set on (y/n)‘s pleasure drunken features. He fucked her into the backseat, no longer caring if his tight grasp was leaving marks on the leather fabric. She was everything Dean could focus on, the sweetest temptation known to humankind. 

"Never let me go, Dean, promise me.” (Y/n) whispered her words, eyes momentarily focusing on Dean’s wide ones. She saw him swallow, collecting enough air to murmur a soft though clear “I promise”.

“I don’t know John, it feels like I’m clinging to things I can’t let go. I don’t have the strength to.” Dean averted his gaze in shame, fumbling with the fingers that have once searched for her, needing to feel her close. He could still hear the angry words she had spoken, the fight the two had been trapped in, a fight that had given Dean the final push, disappearing in the middle of the night.

He had left behind a note for her to find, a simple “I’m sorry, I will always love you”. Nothing more, nothing less. By now he deeply regretted the way they’ve parted, or at least how he had parted from her, Dean could only hope that she’d be able to make her peace with it, someday at least. 

“Time will heal your wounds, Dean. Allow God to guide you, put your trust in him.”

……

Dean’s gasps and moans echoed through his small room, he had his head thrown back against the thin pillow, hand wrapped around his twitching cock. Her name rolled off his tongue, a sound so strong, a sound so emotional, Dean could only hope the others living in the rooms close by won’t hear him. 

His hand moved with quick strokes, needing to chase the high he had been aching for for days. It was wrong - at least that’s what he’s been told - he was committing another sin, and yet Dean couldn’t care about the punishment that may eventually follow. In this very moment Dean couldn’t care about crossing paths with the Devil, or at least the one those surrounding him were fearing, he had played this game for too long, he knew what was awaiting him, eventually. 

“Dean, look at me.” He was forced to lift his gaze, bloodshot eyes meeting her worried ones. (Y/n) sat down next to him, reaching for the bottle of beer he kept clinging to as if he was scared to lose yet another thing. Dean tried to protest, but he was interrupted by the clicking of her tongue, eyes snapping close once again. “Look at me, please.” 

No words left him as he finally looked at her, (y/n), the one who owned his heart, his closest friend, his most trustworthy companion. Slowly she cupped his cheek, thumb running over his skin, tracing the freckles that reminded her of stars covering the night sky, a sight so beautiful she’d always stop to marvel at him. 

“What can I do? Anything you want, you need.” His teeth sank into his lower lip, eyes once again fluttering close as he reached for her wrist, pulling her into his lap. (Y/n) didn’t dare speak up, allowing Dean to take what he needed, lips finding hers all too forcefully, leaving her gasping. He tasted of beer, of sadness, of pain. Dean rose to his feet with (y/n) clinging to him, forcing her down on the table, pushing her back. 

Her gasps drowned out Dean’s low groans, undoing his belt, freeing his hardening cock. No further warning was spoken as he shuffled her shirt up to her waist, pulling her panties aside. Their eyes met again, a silent question being shared between them, waiting for her consent. 

(Y/n) pulled him in for another teeth-clashing kiss, freeing yet another groan bubbling out of them. He parted from her to spit into his hand, lubing his cock up before he pushed into her. Both moaned in unison, set on chasing their highs, set on pushing one another over the edge with no mercy. 

Dean ripped his eyes wide open seconds before he came, ripped from the flashback like those that have grieved for Jesus’ death, reliving their last moments with their saviour. Sweat pearled on Dean’s forehead, sweat that rolled down his forehead like the red blood that had once dripped from four nails, forced through skin and wood. He choked on (y/n)’s name, painting his hands and stomach white as he came, lazily pumping his cock a few more times. 

“Fuck,” Dean murmured the curse, forcing a few deep breaths into his lungs before he rose to his feet, slowly cleaning himself up. He was heavily breathing, still hung up on the memories that have forced themselves into his brain, flashing before his eyes like lightning striking the dark sky. 

His eyes found the wooden rosary placed on his desk, next to the white collar he was now wearing on a daily basis. Dean moved closer, slowly picking up the rosary as his doubts came flooding back through his system. He should have spoken to her, should have explained his every fear to (y/n), but he hadn’t, he had kept his mouth shut – like a scared boy. 

The sound of somebody knocking on the wooden door leading to his room forced his green eyes to snap towards the door. He cleared his throat, reaching for a shirt before he walked closer. Slowly Dean pulled the door open, freezing as his eyes fell onto two pairs of all too familiar eyes. 

“Sam? (Y/n)?”