#What is a greater love than to lay down his life for his friends

[the-harvest-field]

Love is the key: What is a greater love than to lay down his life for his friends

Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. John 15:13 Jesus Christ is not any Jew, Jesus Christ is the only begotten Son of God. He had to be born according to the prophecies of the Old Testament Prophets. God inspired this word, the word became flesh. The bible is the word of God. God breathed life into the word. The Father the Son and the Holy Spirit. Adam…

[brother-emperors]

I see your dog-coded Agrippa and Cassius, but what about Crassus ? Kind of like feral dog coded

for me, Crassus skips the dog coding allegations on account of no one being able to put a leash on him, and there's no person he seems to be singularly devoted to in a way that dictates his actions

Dating The Praetorship of Marcus Licinius Crassus, Martin Stone

like, there's Sulla, but Crassus also did a lot of that of his own accord, and Sulla shut the door on him politically so Crassus climbed in through a window and worked a different aspect of Roman society-politics with magnificent skill. he ALSO skips the dog allegations because if anyone is bringing someone to heel, it's Crassus doing it to other people. there isn't a specific person that Crassus' actions can be dedicated to in a way that makes me think of a dog the way Agrippa's actions for Octavian do.

I also don't think he's feral! what he is: really fucking ruthless, or has the potential for ruthlessness, which isn't the same thing to me as being feral. and being ruthless is not uncommon for Late Republic politics

Lucullus: A Life, Arthur Keavney

but its that pivot point between being firm, ruthless, and likeable that makes him interesting. he's actually. he's--

okay, so in my mind, he's Machiavelli Prince coded. there are only two Romans I have ever made a compare and contrast analysis using Machiavelli's Il Principe, one is Augustus, the other is Crassus. and for once my connect the dots of thematic tomfoolery has something I can cite, someone ELSE has also made a comparison to Augustus

Dating The Praetorship of Marcus Licinius Crassus, Martin Stone

[terribleoldwhitemen]

A man such as Fred Thursday would find it infinitely easier to say ‘Mind how you go’ than ‘I love you.’ I’m not sure he’d even think that his various friendships with his colleagues fall under that category. You love your wife. Your children. But men? So – sometimes ‘Mind how you go’ will mean exactly that. And sometimes it’s a way of saying, ‘You matter to me. I care deeply about you.’ He talked recently about his men – losing three of them quite close to the end of the war. I think the feeling there between people who have stood that close to death for a long time with others – that fellow feeling, that’s love, isn’t it? Though it’s – then at least – only deemed safe to describe as such from the other side of the veil. ‘Greater love hath no man…’

Russell Lewis (x)

[hazbin-writings-and-musings]

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader Romance Headcanons

Some very random and very silly little headcanons about being in a relationship with the King of Hell, and likely the beginning of many more as I learn how to write for this darling cartoon that has consumed my entire brain.

- He's one of the greatest flirts of all time, but with one enormous caveat: he has no ability to consciously flirt with anyone he's interested in. Quips and charming smiles come easy when he wants to banter with friends or taunt a foe, but when he starts to get feelings for you and actually attempts to be smooth, everything falls apart. All traces of his grace, power, and quick wit evaporate the instant he pulls his first move, and it only worsens the more flustered he becomes. His first attempt goes so badly that by the end more than a few things are on fire, and neither of you is entirely sure how. Thankfully, your receptiveness despite the disasters will build his confidence; and while he's never quite as smooth as when he's not trying, he does learn to make use of his charms whenever the moment calls for it.

- While at first he'll keep your relationship on the extreme down low, to the point of avoiding public dates and shows of affection, this is only so he can take the time to be sure you know and can fully agree to what you're getting into. Dating Lucifer Morningstar comes with a great many risks that don't ever go away, and he needs you to understand that while he'll do anything to keep you safe, your life will change forever once word gets out. The people of Hell are going to want to know all about their King's new lover, and he has more than a few enemies on multiple planes of existence you'll have to be wary of. As soon as he's convinced you're aware of the risks and accept them regardless, be prepared for him to make up for lost time and then some. He wants to take you on dates to Hell's most premier establishments, to have you on his arm for every single public appearance, and to proudly and boldly declare you to be his love whenever the opportunity presents itself.

- Genuine compliments go a long way with this man. Though he's got a very healthy sense of pride, he still very much enjoys praise, to the point of nearly giddy delight if he gets it from someone he's crushing on. This goes double if you catch him off guard. Expressing your awe when he unceremoniously summons a mundane item out of thin air will fluster him far more readily than even the most lascivious of flirtations, and he'll be riding the emotional high for the better part of a week. Praising his appearance has an even greater impact, and nothing puts a spring in his step quite like hearing how much you like his hair.

- Touch is one of his preferred love languages, second only to gifts and song. He likes to give as much as he does to receive, but as he's a little starved for affection, you'll find him very disproportionately affected by even the most chaste contact. The first time you try looping your arm through his, laying a hand on his shoulder, and even brushing up to his side he'll be deliriously happy. Once the gates are open, however, you can expect him to start initiating and upping the ante quite rapidly. He'll start taking your hand when it's available, cupping the small of your back as you walk at his side, and even pulling you in with his wings for a feathery embrace, and he doesn't stop there. Eventually, if you're amicable, he'll gladly offer his lap anytime you need a seat. This goes double if you're in public.

- Giving gifts is one of his favorite ways to express affection, but he doesn't just do so willy nilly, even if anything you could ask for will be provided in a heartbeat. Rather, he likes to surprise you by gifting something that you didn't even know you needed, and will spend a great deal of time noting what you need help with and drafting ideas to meet that need until he has the perfect solution. Being a craftsman with eons of experience and angelic powers means he can construct anything in the realm of imagination, and he'll use his skills to tune his creation to your particular tastes. All of this is done in secret to ensure you're surprised when he finally presents his creation. No matter how many hours he spends laboring over these gifts, your surprise and joy always makes it all worth it in the end.

[gardenpatchbaby]

Sir Pentious Theory!!!

Sir Pentious got into heaven during the finale of S1. This proves sinners in hell can be redeemed. Lets look at what this tells us about the series!

Sir Pentious wasn't killed by an angelic weapon. We see Adam using a axe in the other fights. I suspect the light beam doesn't kill permanently, Adam just used it to quickly get rid of the ship. Sir Penntious will be back for S2. Adam is dead (thank you Niffty).

It's safe to assume souls appear outside the gates of heaven. That's why St. Peter is there with his big book of names. However, Sir Pentious appeared RIGHT IN FRONT OF SERA AND EMILY. Whatever force controls where souls go WANTED the seraphs to know about this redemption.

While it's not definitive, Sir Pentious' death could give us an idea about what the criteria for getting into heaven is or will be for the sinners. It's most likely about love. Sir Pentious confessed to Cherri right before, which is what clued me in. However, John 15:13 might also shed some light on his sacrifice. "For there is no greater love than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends." This would also align with the tone of the show overall, which seems to be that even in bad situations, the friends we make and care for will help us get through it and support us, changing us for the better. Hells not a bad place when we have people to care about.

[foreveralbon]

lay all your love on me - cl16

in which you’ve never been one to tie yourself down, but charles might be the only man who can change that wc: 2.3k brief content warnings: jealous reader, oblivious charles, reader is a someone who sleeps around but you try to become a better person for charles’ sake, charles also sleeps around but they aren’t in an active relationship

this request was sent in, i think around late february, and i am so so sorry to the anon who sent in it because it's been so long that i’ve lost the actual request. but basically it was just the prompt "lay all your love on me" by abba + charles leclerc, so here you go, nonnie!! it probably didn’t go the way you were anticipating but it didn’t go the way i was planning on it either tbh

It’s difficult, you won’t lie, to live the kind of life you lead. There’s only so many strangers you can kiss and so very little hearts you can break. Committing to a relationship - to just one person - has never been for you, and you’re not sure it ever will be. You’ve always liked your freedom far too much to throw it all away for just one man, and the nights you spend with pretty nameless men prove that.

For most people, too many men make it complicated - they get attached too easily. One kiss and they’re practically addicted to you. Returning to your doorstep the next night, drooling, begging you for another taste. Just one more taste and they swear they’ll be gone. Each of them are worst liars than the last.

To you though, the chase is exhilarating. The more you give, the more desperate they become. Flowers, chocolates, love-sick messages, grand gestures, all in an attempt to woo you over. As sweet as it may be - well, sweet for you at least, because nothing is better than free expensive chocolate - you revel in their eventual defeat. After all, you almost always got what you wanted - a relationship with no strings attached, more attention than you could’ve ever asked for and you didn’t lose anything worthwhile in the process.

What you’d never expected though, was for the roles to switch.

But God, just one night with Charles and you were fucking hooked. Reduced to nothing but a mere beggar, seeking for his attention, ready to eat crumbs from his bare hands if that was all he was willing to give you.

Eventually, one night turned into two turned into a week turned into days on end spent holed up in Charles’ room.

Three months later and it still isn’t enough. You crave more than just sex. You want him, in all the ways imaginable.

Charles with his scruffy morning hair and sleep-ridden rasp. Charles, who slips a shirt of his on your naked body in the mornings he has to leave so that you don’t wake up cold. Charles, who’s set out a cup of coffee for you every day you’ve woken up beside him so far. Charles, who’s sat by your side for hours on end, listening to you blabber away with nothing but open ears and a sparkle in his eye. Charles, who’s fallen asleep in your arms far too many times to count now. The first time it happened you decided that you’d never fall asleep any other way again.

Charles, who’s become a far greater friend than fuck buddy, someone you trust and care about. Hell, he’s become someone you can imagine yourself loving.

Truthfully, realistically, it might not happen.

Because Charles sticks the unspoken agenda people like you have always lived by. Fuck around for a few weeks, don’t get attached.

Now you’ve gone ahead and placed half your heart in the hands of a man who’d probably rather sooner be holding another woman’s waist.

Your worry, however unwarranted it may seem, is confirmed one sunny morning, when a rustle from the corner of Charles’ room wakes you up.

“Good morning, cherie.” He says, shrugging the waistband of his pants up his hips. His white bedsheets fall from over your shoulders, bunching at your waist as you sit up, rubbing at your eyes tiredly. The side of his bed that you’ve claimed for yourself has started to smell strongly of your perfume and, mixed in with Charles’ cologne, it’s a smell that you’ve quickly grown accustomed to.

A quick glance at the clock beside you reads 7am, far earlier than either of you have been up in a while. You don’t miss the fact that there’s no steaming cup of coffee by your side. “Morning, Cha. Where are you going?”

There’s a brief pause from him before he clears his throat and mutters, “I was planning on meeting Alexandra.”

Oh. “Alexandra, the girl you were seeing earlier?” Before me?

His voice is muffled as he tugs his shirt over his head and down his toned stomach but you can clearly make out his confirmation. He moves to his dresser, rummaging through the drawers to find a belt.

An inexplicable noise emerges from your throat, confusion creeping over your features. There’s a wave of nausea that passes over you at the thought of Charles with another woman. You’d rather swallow a box of nails if it meant you didn’t have to think about Charles with someone else other than you.

“Really?”

Charles stops his searching for a moment, back straightening to turn to you. “Yes. Is there something wrong with that?”

“I mean, you’ve been spending a lot of time with me, I didn’t realise that you might want to see other people. I wasn’t expecting it is all.”

“Do you not want me to see her?” His face is scrunched adorably, skepticism lining his voice as he tries to make sense of your point. He rounds the bed to stand by you, palm resting on your head as he entangles his fingers through your hair. On any other the day, the gesture would be sweet, intimate. But now, you lean away from his touch. He doesn’t seem to take notice of it though.

“Not really, no.” The truth is blunt from your lips and Charles rears away, taken aback. It wasn’t the answer he was expecting and it’s not something he has a planned answer to either.

He coos softly. “It’s alright. I’m just meeting with her. Chatting. I’ll be back in the afternoon, and if you’re still here, we’ll have some lunch and I’ll be yours for the night.”

You nod reluctantly but uncertainty is still etched deep into your features. His promise cuts far too deep - a compromise really.

“I’m not looking to bring her home,” Charles reassures you, and you just swallow down all the words you want to say. “I like this version of us. It’ll be good for however long it lasts.”

This version of us as if it’s not the farthest thing from what you want you and Charles to be. Good as if it won’t leave you heartbroken by the end. But who’s to blame if not yourself?

It’s when he hooks his finger under your chin to press his lips against yours in a sweet goodbye kiss, that it takes everything in you to not pull him back down into bed with you, trap him there for as long as humanely possible. The only way you’re sure you could ever truly have him.

—

Charles, you quickly come to realise, is someone who keeps his word.

He’s home past midday, just as he said he’d be. He walks through his apartment door, jacket hanging loosely off his arm, and he calls out your name. Charles makes a beeline for the kitchen, and water splashes into the sink as he fills a glass for himself.

“Here!” You say back from your position on the couch, tilting your head back to take a good look at him. A flashed smile from him in your direction is more than enough to stop you in your tracks, make you weak at the knees.

The first thing you notice about him is the faint smudge of red that looks like it’s been rubbed off his cheek.

His already mussed up hair sticks up in all the wrong places, indicative of someone running their hands through it. His shirt is bunched up at the front, like someone spent a good while grabbing onto it.

You can feel the blood drain from your face, leaving you lightheaded at the image of Alexandra touching him in the same way you’ve been doing for so long now.

“Hi, chérie.”

“Good time?”

“Yes. We just talked. Caught up. I might see her again soon, I’m not sure yet.”

The words strike deep, like they’re arrows aimed straight at your heart. Charles clocks the change in your demeanour almost immediately, the way your face falls and your body tightens in on itself.

“Chérie,” he says softly. He drops down onto the couch beside you, wrapping his arms tight around your torso. He tucks your head into the crook of his neck and presses a kiss to your temple. The act is far too sweet, far too familiar for people with a relationship of your nature. “Is everything okay? You’ve been so down since we spoke this morning.”

“What changed, Charles? We were so fun together.”

“But that’s all this has ever been, no? Just for fun. Those other girls are just there, you’re the one that’s been here the longest and for good reason too. Because I like you more than them.”

He speaks with a tone of finality, one that gives you room to talk but without discussion.

“I don’t want to think about those girls with you. Anything you want, I’m here. If you need to talk, if you want someone to complain, I’m here.”

If you want someone to love, I’m here.

The words linger unspoken on your tongue, but when he smiles appreciatively, purposefully ignoring everything you’ve said, and when the trajectory of his hand slowly changes from your head to your waist and his lips trail kisses down along the side of your face and neck, you decide that you’ll just take what he’s willing to give you.

—

You’re not sure how you made it to the same club as him, but the second you step in, there’s a chill that runs down your spine despite the multitude of sweaty bodies surrounding you. You’d both agreed to stepping back for a few days - rather, Charles’d insisted on it after your attitude had apparently worsened.

Flashing lights and thumping music makes it hard for you to make out it his figure but the second his head tilts to look at the girl he’s talking to properly, you know it’s him.

He stands so close to her that you’re sure she can smell his natural scent beneath his cologne. Can she smell the remnants of you on him?

It’s as though your gaze has burned holes in the side of his head because one second his eyes are trained on the girl in front and the next, his focus shifts to you, wincing at your pained expression. He raises his arm and at first you think he’s about to excuse himself. But then he’s pulling her closer into his body, guiding her deeper into the crowd.

It’s stupid the way you immediately trail after him, manoeuvring your way through the crowd in a desperate attempt to catch a glimpse of him.

But suddenly he breaks away from her and you’re standing lost in a crowd of strangers. It lasts for a barely moment because you can feel him sidle up to you seconds later, his chest brushing up against your back as he leans to whisper in your ear.

“What are you doing here?”

You whirl around to talk to him, your faces so close that all it would take is for someone to bump into you for your lips to touch. “Tough finding someone out here, huh?”

He just sighs and turns his head the other way. “This again?”

You don’t miss the way that he doesn’t call you by your name, or chérie or the fact that he doesn’t even address you at all.

“Do you want something from me? I thought we agreed to do our own stuff tonight.” At that, his eyes dart over the girl he was talking to, who acknowledges you both with a flirtatious flick of her fingers.

“Come on, Charles. I can be the one for you,” you finally blurt out. The admission feels like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders but a groan from Charles is like the whole ocean has come crashing down on you.

He shakes his head. “What am I meant to do? Let myself fall in love with you, just so that you can leave me for the next bed like you do to everyone? No, thank you. If that’s an option for you, it’s one for me too.”

“You don’t need to waste your time with other girls, I’m right here.” The words leave your mouth faster than your brain can register what you’re even saying. Charles watches you with a pained look on his face, half-tempted to tell you to stop. “I’m a better person now. I haven’t touched another man, I haven’t thought of another man since I’ve been with you. I know everything about you. The way you like your coffee, the show you like to watch before bed even though you tell all your friends that you think it’s weird and you’d never watch it. I know that you give me your favourite shirts to wear - you always used to wear them around before we started this… this thing and now, I haven’t seen you wear them once.”

Charles murmurs your name softly, barely audible on his lips and you feel just about ready to cry of frustration if he’s not hearing you.

“These girls don’t care about you. They don’t want you. I know you better than these girls do and I’m sure as fuck that I could love you a whole lot better than they ever could, Charles.”

There’s a slow hurt that seeps through you, acid bubbling deep in your tummy. It traps your body in its fiery burn and for a moment you’d gladly let it take over you if it means you can finally lie in this grave you’ve dug for yourself.

“Love me.”

—

author’s note: this strayed so far away from the request i’m so sorry dude

@namgification @lipringlrh @queen-aria-things @disneyprincemuke @demvnsriot let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

[qingxin-dream]

“Just One Good Thing”

summary | it’s hard to love someone who is broken, and even harder when two broken people love so deeply it hurts. (art credits: @/pastahands on twitter).

warnings | not proofread/vent writing, scaramouche lore spoilers, brief graphic depiction of death, illness, loss, profanity, TW heavy mental health topics, self-hatred, dissociation, depression, suicidal thoughts/ideation, graphic description of self-harm wounds, fear of abandonment, guilt, reader is hospitalized

genre | angst, hurt, comfort

word count | 2.5k

pairing | wanderer x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

This was not the first time the puppet experienced betrayal.

How could you have known? It was long before you came into existence, hundreds of years of anguish buried in layers upon layers beneath his artificial constitution. He had once been but an innocent, naive babe with the world sparkling in the reflection of his violet eyes, meant for something greater. He had once fulfilled a purpose.

To be brought into the world against your will, crafted from the divine hand of a grieving Archon, only to have every semblance of your being ripped from you and cast aside in the name of so-called mercy—is a fate akin to death itself.

You never knew his past.

How he was once an eccentric named Kabukimono who wandered from Shakkei Pavilion and made friends with the blade smiths of Tatarasuna. His first taste of human life was amid a blazing furnace and the clamoring of a hammer onto hot metal, learning what it meant to labor and create. He had grown to love the little village as his own, playing with the children and sipping on the bitter taste of tea leaves with his comrades.

The puppet who had called himself Kabukimono was painfully ignorant to the cruelty of fate.

He could have never fathomed the day he would hold the future of his village in his trembling, pale hands as the toxic Tatarigami fumes envelope him in chemicals. There he climbed deep inside the Mikage Furnace, the unique resilience of his artificial body left unharmed by the inhospitable temperatures glowing hot against his divine skin. Any normal human would’ve perished a thousand times over.

Inside the foreign device that promised to save his home lay the bloody, withering heart cut fresh from his closest companion’s chest.

“You are a human, Kabukimono,” Niwa had insisted with a soft smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, a comforting hand resting on the eccentric’s shoulder. “You just don’t have a heart.”

Yet there the puppet stood, his voice robbed from his aching throat, cradling the very essence of his friend’s humanity in his palm.

It was his fault. What a foolish creature he was to ever involve himself with humans, whom he could only bring suffering. His tears were evaporated instantly as the grotesque realization dawned on the distraught young Kabukimono. He would later discover that he had been betrayed by a man who introduced himself as Escher but was known among the Fatui as The Doctor.

The dirty pads of his bare feet had thumped through the rocky village path and down the dirt roads leading to the outskirts of the rural Inazuman wilderness. Crows rustled in the trees and flapped their feathers into the sky, jeering at the desolate and abandoned settlement.

The village should have been evacuated. All who could have been saved were rushed as far away as possible from the poisonous Tatarigami. Rows upon rows of homes and businesses were eerily vacant. Kabukimono, in his watery hysterics, had not paid any mind to his surroundings, leaving behind the only home he ever had for good.

That is, until he stumbled across a young boy who lived under an old sakura tree. Kabukimono immediately felt the void in his chest wrench with visceral guilt upon learning that the child’s parents were crafts-people. The house was utterly empty except for the lonely little boy.

For as much as the puppet wanted nothing more than to rid himself of human companionship, he felt responsible for the loss of the boy’s parents. He had an obligation to see that he was taken care of and safe from the Tatarigami. If he could not have saved his friends, perhaps he could atone for his sins in raising the orphaned child—who reminded him too much of himself.

“Promise me,” Kabukimono spoke up with a bit of a hoarse tone, his voice cracking with emotion, extending a shaky hand to the young boy. “That we can be family. I will watch over you.”

“Like a big brother?” asked the innocent boy with a hopeful smile. He wouldn’t have to be alone anymore, taking the eccentric’s hand in his own. “I’ve always wanted one… I promise, we will be family.”

For a short while, the puppet had learned to push the turmoil plaguing his conscience to the back of his mind. His focus had shifted entirely to ensuring the boy���s safety and happiness, trying to scavenge food for him and exchanging stories under the moonlight. Although, Kabukimono flinched with each cough from the boy that shattered the silence between them as they went to sleep.

He hated that he recognized the symptoms. The residue of the Tatarigami had somehow infected the child, no doubt. A dreadful thought occurred to him—perhaps he had given the sickness to the orphaned child after what happened at the Mikage Furnace. The idea was enough to eat him alive with worry. Kabukimono had secretly prayed that the boy would endure the illness.

The puppet had worked tirelessly to give him the best he possibly could. If his coughs were dry, he would fetch him water. If his stomach rumbled, he would prepare some Lavender Melons. If he needed a friend, Kabukimono would be there to hold his hand as he slept like a guardian angel.

The day the elderly sakura tree shed its pretty pink blossoms was the day the boy was found unresponsive.

Kabukimono, too, found himself hollow and devoid. What did it mean to be family? What did it mean to love? What was the point of having such worthless emotions?

A blazing inferno consumed the darkness of the night sky. Crackling embers swirled and smoke bellowed in the rural countryside as a rickety house succumbed to a hellish fate. No one was there to witness the flaming spectacle. No one to help, or save the vacant violet eyes of a nameless puppet who clutched a small doll in his lap.

It was laughable, truly, how sick and twisted the world could be. The puppet couldn’t fulfill his creator’s wishes, nor could he befriend humanity, or have a heart of his own. Oh, to perish in a fiery death would be far too simple for Celestia’s liking, wouldn’t it?

For five hundred years, Kabukimono, Kunikuzushi, Scaramouche—no matter who he became—the feeling of inadequacy remained.

His divinely-created body was an immortal prison, shackling him to his sins. As a Fatui Harbinger, no needle, blade, or poison of the Doctor could kill him. No enemy or magic of the Abyss could ultimately break him. The puppet was built to withstand the likes of the Cataclysm that had taken his creator’s sister, yet the scars of these experiments litter his fair skin are a reminder that he is indeed alive.

Wanderer vividly remembers his dark fascination with testing his limits in the depths of his dissociation. Anything to serve as penance for the irreversible destruction he had inflicted upon his friends, his family, and his home. If he was lucky, perhaps the Doctor would find a way to end his misery or the maddening darkness of the Abyss would swallow him whole once and for all.

Even forsaking his autonomy and identity as Scaramouche to ascend to godhood would be a fitting death for the puppet. After all, the Everlasting Lord of Arcane Wisdom would never bow to his emotions like a weakling. Losing himself to infinite knowledge and truth would be a good ending, despite the insanity that would befall him.

All that mattered is he would cease to exist.

But it was you who defeated him, in all his might and glory as a fake Archon pumped full of divine wisdom and the sludgy remains of dead gods. It was you who found him after he tried to erase every part of his worthless being from Irminsul, and helped him pick up the pieces of himself in the aftermath.

The reality that lies within Irminsul had given him a new perspective as the Wanderer. Though he retained the poignant memories of his sins, Wanderer made sure to carve a special space in the void of his artificial body just for you. His savior.

Not a single one of those instances—absolutely fucking none of them—could ever compare to the morbid and desperate pit of despair that ravages Wanderer at the sight of your fragile body curled up in a white hospital gown. You are hooked up to a myriad of monitors and machines, wires and tubes tangling your frame like chains. The distant beep of the electrocardiogram is burned into Wanderer’s mind.

It’s your heartbeat, and the very reason for his continued existence. You had been reduced to small blip on a computer screen.

The hospital room was otherwise silent. The windows had the blinds slightly drawn, a cool ray of moonlight washing over Wanderer’s disheveled indigo hair from behind. Even if you were unconscious, Wanderer had wanted to tuck you in for the night, but he was terrified of hurting you. The fluorescent white light above your bed was off, bathing you both in warm darkness.

In the late hours, all Wanderer could do was stare at you with eyes reddened from crying, his crimson eyeliner smudged at the edge of lashes. He would occasionally lick his dry lips, which were chapped and peeling. The sting of the dead skin on his lips being tugged between his teeth was a momentary release from the overwhelming anxiety dwelling within.

His thin fingers are intertwined with yours on the hospital bed, one of the few ways the puppet can keep himself grounded in this moment. Every once in awhile, he’ll give your hand a gentle squeeze followed by a few broken wishes for you to open your eyes again. To see the life in you and hear your sweet voice again.

Sometimes it would get to be too much. Wanderer would raise your hand and kiss your knuckles with hot, salty tears pricking at his eyes. The stinging sensation would force his eyelids closed, sorrow streaming down his stained cheeks. He was sure that this was a result of his own shortcomings.

Your arms are wrapped in bandages with a few stitches here and there lying underneath. A deathly pale color flushed your beautiful face. And oh, Archons, those eyes of yours he had always adored endlessly were sunken darkly into your face, hidden in your slumber. His gaze drifted to your lips, still full and pink, perhaps his last vestige of hope as they parted for your sacred breaths.

To imagine you’re suffering as much as he had in his past is utterly unthinkable to Wanderer.

The only difference is your fragile mortality. He knows your pain now, he can see it carved onto your wrists in what must have been a frenzied meltdown.

Some cuts are lighter and faded, meaning this certainly isn’t the first time you hurt yourself. Other gashes in your arm are deeper and swollen, each one weighs on the puppet’s heart greater than the last. He couldn’t count how many times you must have taken that razor to your wrist. Wanderer silently curses himself for letting this happen to you.

“How stupid could I be? Letting her away from me,” he quietly lamented with his head in hands, fingers curling around his indigo locks tightly. “I had just one good thing.”

Rocking himself gently in the chair next to you, Wanderer continuously tugs at his hair to an almost extreme degree, unable to handle the anger, betrayal, and sadness overcoming him. He was practically attached to you at the hip, he should’ve noticed when your voice faltered or when your eyes betrayed your words. He should’ve seen the signs of you slipping through his fingers.

Even if every day wasn’t perfect, even if sometimes you both said hurtful things to each other, neither of you never truly meant it. Wanderer couldn’t bear to imagine not waking up next to you, the morning sunlight kissing your silhouette like an angel. He never thought that he’d find his purpose in you, in the most mundane moments that he cherished so deeply.

He knew you had a history of mental health struggles. So did he. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to give you his everything—fingers entwined and sweat glistening on your bodies as he made you his for the umpteenth time.

The echo of the puppet’s soft sobs dissipates into the emptiness of the hospital room. His whole body is shaking with emotional agony. It’s the first time in centuries that he has allowed himself to feel vulnerable like this. How could he not when the love of his life—the meaning of his existence—had tried to take themselves out of it?

Wanderer finally releases his hair, taking your left hand again and passionately pressing his lips to your bare ring finger as an unspoken promise. You both had worked so hard to love better and be better. He wasn’t about to give you up.

There would never be another you in eternity.

He couldn’t bear the heavy burden on his heart anymore. Carefully, he pulled the thin blanket back and climbed into the hospital bed next to you. His fingers trembled at the contact, feeling your faint warmth. Wanderer gently pulled you close so that your head was safely tucked into his chest and he could rest his chin on your soft hair. He sighed, covering you both in the blanket once more.

Sobs tugged at his chest and his grip on you momentarily tightened. Though tears glistened at the corner of his broken violet eyes, Wanderer blinked them back with a shaky breath. You were in his arms and his world was made whole again.

“I love you, (Y/N),” his voice is gravely and barely audible. “I love you so fucking much… don’t you dare think otherwise.”

The puppet nuzzles his nose into your scalp, breathing in your familiarity like it’s home. He begins to play with your hair gently, combing and caressing your soft strands with his fingertips painted in black.

“You scared the shit out of me, you know…” Wanderer kisses your hair, closing his eyelids for a long moment to memorialize the feeling of your skin on his lips. “But I’m gonna get you out of here, baby. I’m gonna get you help, okay?”

His toned arms keep your body pressed to his, wanting to feel every part of your being entangled with him as it should be. The tickling sensation of your little breaths on his neck brought a small smile to his face because it meant you were sleeping comfortably and most importantly, alive. You were the missing piece in his puzzle, fitting perfectly into place with him.

“It’ll be okay. Everything will be okay,” the puppet whispers to you, hoping you could hear and feel his love in every way, shape, and form possible. His words also served as an assurance to himself because in this moment he felt so helpless, seeing the wounds on your precious skin.

“I won’t let anything hurt you anymore,” Wanderer solemnly vows, his voice slowly but surely trailing off as he succumbs to his exhaustion with you held close to his heart.

“Goodnight, my love.”

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! my masterlist.

[a-little-ray-of-fantasy]

So, I've noticed a few things about Sir Pentious' blimp and how it's built.

Its main window is all circular, and if you look at how it's structured, it resembles a flower. Specifically, a window like this is often seen in churches, and they're called "rose windows"

Then, the windows on the side: it's like they're made of stained glass. And, what do you know? They're also found in churches!

And finally, the ship has a pointy extreme on its frontal area. It actually looks like a spire, aka the highest architectural element in a church.

So basically, this blimp contains elements that evoke the place where everyday people come to confess their sins and become better people and be able to eventually ascend to Heaven.

Sounds familiar?

Notably, a certain Sinner, who happens to resemble the Biblical representation of sin and evil (the snake), became a martyr and ascended to Heaven by using this machine of destruction to save his friends with no guarantee he'd be able to survive such an action.

Such an act of self sacrifice to help beloved ones is seen as the ultimate form of love and virtue, and it fully explains the brilliance and plot reasons behind his blimp's sacral architecture.

"Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends." (John, 15:13)

[xvxni]

Hey 😊 would you do a Damon Salvatore imagine where you’re dating but then you leave the house after a fight with him and get in a bad car crash. He feels this and searches for you, just to find you I’m time to save your life. Then he stays by your side, feeling guilty and when you wake up again he’s there taking care of you, apologizes and promises to never let any harm happen to you again? Just some lovely fluff and a bit angsty. Thank you so much 😊

Apology

Summary: Your boyfriend Damon has been acting very possessive and controlling and you get into a huge fight with him. You go out for a drive to clear your head but end up in an accident instead. Damon finds you and takes you home, making up for everything he had done.

ANGST, fluff

Damon being controlling, car crash, reader having a near-death experience

1.5K

A/N: Thank you @imagine-all-the-fandoms for being my first request! I'm so sorry it took forever (this is horrible). Do let me know if this is satisfactory. Happy reading!

Damon Salvatore X Human!Fem!Reader

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Your boyfriend of two years, Damon, was recently being very controlling and possessive. He started making your decisions for you without bothering to consult you, being unreasonably jealous of any male around you and demanding to be with you at all times, not understanding the healthy concept of giving 'space'.

But this time, it ran deep. He compelled your childhood best friend, Jake, to leave town and forget all about you. You caught him in nick of time otherwise you would've never even known about what happened to him!

Deeply hurt and driven mad with rage, you left the Boarding House for a drive after a few broken objects, wounding words and a heavy heart.

You didn't know how, perhaps you weren't in your right senses, you couldn't hit the brakes and crashed right into a tree. The car flipped over, and your arms twisted at an odd angle. Your limp and now-sore body was fastened with the seat belt, and you couldn't undo it. You were hit badly in the back of your head, and you could feel unbearable burn of a deep gash.

Your senses had perked up under the stillness of the night, and you heard a faint trickle. Then wetness across your back, your head, soon trickling down to your neck. It was a strange fluid --- coppery metallic smell, thick and red with a mud-brownish tinge. It was oddly enticing and familiar. A shiver ran down your spine when you realised it was your blood. Blood, so much blood --- your own. You were losing so much blood, and you could do nothing to stop it. You felt faint and suddenly, the hardest thing in the world was staying conscious.

You were terrified. If you were going to die, then it mustn't be like this. An accident. Your whole life snatched away just because of a mistake. God, you had so many things to do in life. Get a job, travel the world, adopt a cat --- ordinary things but they were your dreams, which now lay shattered. You didn't want your life --- and death --- so unremarkable and ordinary. And while all this time, there was a deep wound of regret in your heart --- perhaps greater than the gash on your head --- to part with Damon.

Sure, he could be such an asshole at times, but you knew that he loves you with all his heart. You didn't want your last words to him be an angry "I hate you". You had never really thought about it, what would be your last words to him. You couldn't breathe at the sheer grief that hit you at the moment. Unable to withstand the blow, you closed your eyes, succumbing to a world of endless darkness, getting lost in your way towards the blue-eyed vampire. And you couldn't do a damn thing about it...

Anger and frustration clouded Damon's mind. It was all hazy, and he was searching for a light. Ah, there it is! Remorse, regret, fear of having losing her. He knew what he did was wrong, but why couldn't she understand? He loved her so damn much, everything he did was tp protect her.

She lived her constant danger because he loved her, and he knew at times that he should let her go, but he couldn't. He needed her to function, she was his damn sanity, and without her, he lost it.

Suddenly, there was this intense urge to go find her, not to waste a single moment. He'll do anything to have her back, she can't leave him. He knew he was unreasonable, ill-tempered and sometimes too controlling, but he couldn't help himself.

He got behind the steering wheel and let his heart lead the way, for it was with her where it truly lay.

He was aghast, devastated, even. Finding her like this, so near to death, he suddenly came to his senses. He was crying, he realised. He never cried. But that's what she does to him --- make him into someone he never thought he could be.

"Y/N, no! No, no, no!" he wailed, feeling utterly helpless. He undid your seatbelt and somehow pulled you out of the overturned car. Without wasting a moment, he bit into his wrist and forced his blood into your mouth.

You drank for a moment then turned away, trying to sit up but immediately fell back and the sheer exhaustion and soreness you felt.

He was here. He was here, you realised.

"Oh Damon, I'm so sorry!" you sobbed into his chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around you and you knew he was crying into your shoulder.

You simply let things just be. In that dark night, the feeling of death heavy around you, the two of you embraced a new life. Of promises of forever, of understanding, of accepting --- and it was beautiful.

After what seemed like an eternity, he composed himself, giving you some strength, too. "Let's get you home, yeah?" he whispered and you nodded. He lifted you bridal style in his arms and helped you into his car. You leaned on him, as much as you could and he kissed the top of your head. "I'm so, so sorry..." he began but your shook your head. He understood. Not now.

You drove to the Boarding House in companionable silence. The silence was golden. The silence spoke it all. And all you needed was the silence.

With his help you went inside. The house that was so familiar --- it looked the same --- but it promised something different.

"You don't know how scared I was today," he whispered as he rubbed your feet.

"Me too... I didn't want to die like that. Not without saying goodbye, though I wonder if I ever will be able to say it-" he silenced you with a kiss. "I won't let anything happen to you. I want you all for myself, I know that's selfish. I am prick and I don't deserve you, but I do love you very much, so much that it's frustrating, and I won't be able to live with myself if something happens to you. I know I make bad decisions, I know I react impulsively, but I do it only for you. I am sorry for today. I had no reason to compel Jake, but I did it anyway because I was insecure. I realised my mistake, I have no reason to be. So, if you have it in you, please forgive me...". Tears were streaming down his face.

You wiped them away and hugged him close.

"I'm hungry," you said, trying to lighten up the atmosphere. It made him laugh. "Pasta?"

"Yes!"

[girlwtdragontattoo]

Halsin x TAV Fanfiction "Until we meet again, my heart"

DISCLAIMER: SPOILERS FOR BALDUR'S GATE 3 ENDING. My TAV is a tiefling, so I wrote it with that in mind. You can substitute whatever race your TAV is, if you'd like :)

If you want me to continue, please let me know! I wrote this, because I am truly a sucker for everything Halsin and I wish for soooo much more in the Romance Ending, although I am really happy with the Canon ending of it. I hope you enjoy!

_________________________________________________________

Halsin cupped TAV’s face with his hands and initiated a long, deep kiss. They leaned into him, wrapping their arms around his broad back as much as they could and enjoying the overwhelming surge of belonging, relief, love and peace. The Absolute was finally defeated and Baldur’s Gate could finally return to its former self. The wind blew gently around them, as the city lay before them, engulfed in golden light.

Slowly, the druid released his lips from theirs and stared into the starry eyes of his lover. TAV smiled and noticed that his took a bit longer to form than usual.

“Is something wrong?” they asked carefully.

“No, my heart. Nothing is wrong.” His hands dropped from their face, but he still stood ever so close to them. “But I feel a greater purpose coming out of the shadows. One that I cannot ignore, as much as I’d like to.” His eyes were confusing. On the one hand, the tiefling felt the radiating love they always emitted. On the other, there was a spark suddenly appearing and they agreed, it was hard to overlook.

“What do you mean?”

Halsin sighed briefly, and gently rubbed TAV’s cheek. “We have defeated the Absolute. And I am overjoyed at our victory. But there are so many displaced citizens, refugees, orphans... animals that need my help. Nature needs to heal and it is my calling to help it do so.” There was a slight pause, as he blinked slowly. “I cannot stay with you here, if I am to fulfill my duty.”

A sting. TAV felt their stomach collapse within itself, heat engulfing their spine and neck. They felt as though their body would erupt. But all they showed on their face was a slight consternation that swiftly turned to understanding. They smiled, as much as they could, mirroring the forced one the druid was displaying: “I see. It pains me so much to see you go, but…”, they took hold of his hand on their cheek, kissed it gently and held in their own, “I understand.”

Halsin sighed once more, this time deeply and TAV couldn’t tell if it was out of relief or sadness. He pulled them into an intense hug, one where his arms shook slightly from the pressure. TAV reciprocated and held onto their bear as if their life depended on it. There was no telling when they would cross paths again, so this moment needed to last. TAV felt the druid’s breath in their ear: “My heart, I adore you. This isn’t goodbye. We will see each other again, I promise. But this is something I have to do.” TAV sunk into the embrace even more: “I will miss you dreadfully, until then.”

The embrace lasted eons to TAV, but even that wasn’t enough time. Halsin released his grip, looked into their eyes again and gave them another, long, passionate and gripping caress. Finally, after smiling gently down at TAV for a while, he stepped away, turned to leave and said with his head still turned towards his lover: “Until we meet again, my heart.”

The druid walked away.

TAV stood at the same spot and watched Halsin walk with purpose, once again. They couldn’t help it. The sting, the heat, the overflowing cataclysm of sorrow overwhelmed them and as much as they tried, they couldn’t stop the tears from streaming. Turning to the lake, having the setting sun warm their face, TAV crumpled down on the landing stage and sat there ever so still, letting the tears run down silently.

Not much time passed and TAV’s three closest friends started to gather around them on the landing. Karlach sat down behind TAV and pulled them into a bear hug, her legs dangling with theirs. Shadowheart joined on TAV’s left side, sitting down gracefully and looking into TAV’s tear-stained face. Lae’Zel finally completed the foursome, plopping down on TAV’s right, staring intently into the setting sun.

Karlach tightened her hug and said: “Don’t be sad, soldier. We’re here for you.”

Shadowheart continued to look at TAV, analyzing the state they were in carefully, and choosing her next words with extreme care: “Love can be a wonderous thing. But terrible at the same time.”

TAV nodded, closing their eyes and letting another tear run down. Shadowheart rested her head on TAV’s shoulder, unsure on how else to comfort.

Lae’Zel didn’t say anything, but placed her hand on TAV’s, continuously looking at the horizon.

Finally, Karlach spoke once more: “You really love him, don’t you?”

Those words intensified the heat even more around TAV’s throat. Barely able to control the water leaking out of every orifice, TAV finally nodded intensely and let out a painstaking "Yes". All three companions edged closer to them, offering only their company as solace.

They sat together on the docks for what felt like ages. Being together, having survived the most intense and horrifying battle any of them ever have and probably will in their lives, was a gift they all appreciated greatly. TAV had convinced Lae’Zel to stay with them, which meant they would need to outwit the githyanki, who will surely come after her at every turn. TAV even convinced Karlach to go back to Avernus, promising fiercely to visit as often as possible, letting Karlach come back into Baldur’s Gate occasionally, and most importantly, letting her live. Shadowheart would accompany TAV and Lae’Zel, seeing the little camp of theirs as a new family and one she truly belonged to. Their company would ease some of the pain TAV felt, but it would never fill the hole that Halsin left. They travelled through Faerun together, making camp or allowing themselves a nice stay in a city once in a while, frequently returning to Baldur’s Gate, to see Astarion, Gale, Jaheira or Wyll, but mostly so that TAV could see if Halsin wrote.

It took some time. Too long. To the point where TAV convinced themselves that the druid had forgotten about them. The companions were walking the streets of Baldur’s Gate, Lae’Zel disguised as a halfling by Shadowheart, when a duck fluttered in front of TAV’s face. Surprised, TAV stared at the flapping poultry in front of them and finally noticed a small, rolled up piece of paper stuck to the bird’s leg. Hastily, TAV untangled the note from the animal’s leg. As its duty had been fulfilled, it plopped down on the ground and greedily pecked at the cobble stone for nuggets of food. They unraveled the note and read quickly:

TAV, my heart,

I hope Collin finds you swiftly in Baldur’s Gate.

TAV looked down at the duck vehemently pecking around their shoes. This is “Collin”, supposedly. They continued to read, with a beeming smile on their face.

There have been so many amazing things, that have happened along my journey. I have found a lovely group of helpers, some former refugees, who have assisted me in building homes, repairing the land and adopting children. Most importantly, through my travels, I got to see Thaniel and Oliver again. The former shadow-cursed lands are truly a sight to see. And I want to show you what you have changed here.

If this note finds you, meet me at the Last Light Inn on the day of the full moon.

I have much to tell you and we have much to catch up on.

I miss your eyes, lover.

Until we meet, my heart.

Yours,

Halsin

[aziraphales-library]

Hello, lovely admins! I've gotten the itch for fics where Aziraphale becomes a fallen angel, I don't know why, but I do. Any recommendations? Pls and thank you 💙💙

We have a #fallen angel aziraphale tag you can check out. Here are some post-series two fics in which Aziraphale falls to add to the collection...

Aziraphale Come Down by TheNapoleonOfCrime (T)

Crowley stared at the television with wide eyes, dropping the drink he held right on the floor and causing it to shatter. He watched the video that had been captured of the angel, his angel, Aziraphale, walk through the busy roads like nothing. Aziraphale, his friend who he always knew to be cautious, to be perfect, walking around as if he was drunk. And his wings, what had happened to them? What had they done to him? Without another thought, Crowley ran out of the bar he had been so comfortably situated in. “Angel-!”

If You Don't Recognize Yourself (That Means You Did It Right) by Lem00nOak (T)

Aziraphale is Supreme Archangel, he's where he is meant to be, where he can make a difference, a change. Or is he? A story about betrayal, falling, self-hatred and acceptance with a sprinkle of love +*+*+* Or my prediction for Season 3

when my time comes around (lay me gently in the cold, dark earth) by fluffy_miracle (E)

After a millennium of service to Heaven as the Supreme Archangel, in the midst of a troubled time for Heaven, the most unexpected occurrence happens to Aziraphale. He Falls. And Hell is somehow there to pick up the pieces with a lot of familiar faces and an unusually kind Ruler of Darkness at the helm. Hell is transformed from the terrible place Aziraphale had known it to be-- and so it becomes the place where he gets one more chance to start over and finally let himself be just Aziraphale-- nobody with no allegiance to anything-- except maybe Crowley. But Crowley isn't available, not like he used to be, and the new fallen angel has to learn to deal with himself, and heal, before they can meet again properly. Even if he has missed him desperately after all this time. Especially since he no longer has to be God's strongest soldier anymore...

Bad Omen by lavender_mo0n (T)

There is a common misconception that owls are a bad omen, a warning sign for death and destruction that is to come. On the contrary, a better way to describe it is to say that they are a symbol of change. That change may come in the form of death, but perhaps that is more in reference to the death of life as we know it.

No Light, No Light by PolarisVega (T)

Aziraphale left his life on Earth behind to take the job as the new Supreme Archangel of Heaven. Delighted to be welcomed back and to have finally earned the respect of Heaven, Aziraphale is doing as much Good as he can from the inside. But when Heaven's plans for the second coming of the Apocalypse are revealed. The consequences of his choices, past and present, are greater than he ever imagined.

Grip Me Tight and Raise Me From Perdition by LyricalKris (M)

It was a trap. Of course, it was a trap. The Metatron had been counting Aziraphale’s sins since that first lie in Eden. If ever an angel deserved to be a demon, it was this one. Trouble was, the only one who knew how to turn an angel into a demon was God, and She hadn’t been around lately. But that wouldn’t stop Hell from trying, now would it? Not every day they got their hands on a powerless, fallen angel. And bonus, nobody knew where he was, so there would be no interruptions from filthy, red-haired and yet overprotective traitors. Trapped in a pitch-black, super-heated room in a deep pit of Hell, a tormented, abandoned angel prayed to a demon who was too angry and heartbroken to listen.

- Mod D

[yanwriter-archive]

Can I request Yandere! Russell Adler being s/o best friend for a long time since in Vietnam and want to be more than just a friend but s/o always put their relationship in a friendzone until one day, he snaps. Thank you in advance!

Breaking Point

Warnings: Obsessive love, mentions of war, manipulation, drugging, mind control, false memories

Being a medic was a hard, grueling job, but being a medic for a bloody, unrelenting war like Vietnam was torture. The memories still are fresh in your mind, even after it was long done. It was hard, you wanted to forget it.

But, there were things you never wanted to forget, too. Fighting alongside soldiers, making sure they don't die, that is a bond you can't replicate. They were your friends, you brothers and sisters.

You had saved Russell's life.

A bullet had hit a vital point, and he was losing blood, fast. Within a week, he had Bloomed back to life. That's when your friendship started.

He, in turn, saved your life as well.

A rookie soldier had led the enemy straight back to your base. It was chaos, as your solider tried to fight back, being taken by surprise. You were unaware of what was happening, until one of your injured soldier was shot in their head right in front of you. You tried to defend yourself, but there was nothing you could do.

And when the gun hit your forehead, you knew you were dead.

Until Russell scattered the man's brain across the floor of your tent.

Things like that, you don't want to forget. Russell was a great friend.

But Russell didn't want to be a great friend. He wanted you to love him like how he loves you. Although he was sweet and handsome and you loved him, you just didn't like him like that. There was nothing he could do to change that.

Every time, he came back with more and more gifts and love letters and hope, you would let him down as nicely as you could. You were reaching your breaking point.

You just didn't know he was too.

-

"I just don't understand. What am I doing wrong?"

Your heart squeezed, but you just couldn't do it anymore.

"Russell, it's not you, I swear! You are an amazing guy, and a great friend, but I just don't have feelings for you."

"I could be an even greater husband, if you just..." He paused, "give me a chance."

All you could say was,

"I'm sorry, Russell."

And you were. You were so sorry that you didn't hear the defeated sigh, or the way his eyes shifted to a deep darkness. You were so sorry that you didn't even feel the tiny needle enter your neck.

-

He didn't want to do this, truely, but it worked so well with Bell. He wanted a real relationship, with real memories. But you were too damn stubborn. That's okay, there is plenty of time to make real memories with you.

-

Your vision was blurry when you came to.

When did you lay down? Why was your bed so.. soft and comfortable?

You were so warm, you never wanted to move.

Until your eyes adjusted, and you realized that it wasn't your room.

Shooting up, you tried to remember what happened last night.

Your jumbled thoughts were stopped by a soft, low voice.

"Careful Sweetheart, don't want you to get hurt now."

"Russell? Where am I? What happened?" You start to panic but suddenly your mind goes calm and frozen as he speaks again.

"Sweetheart, don't you know just how much I love you?" His smile is warm and loving.

And suddenly, your world turned rose pink.

You remember falling in love with Russell back in Nam', you remember how much you love him and how all you want to do is to be with him.

"Russell.." You can't find the words. You don't need to, as he leans down, gently cups your cheek, and kisses you deeply.

And you kiss back.

Because you know just how much he loves you, just like how you know just how much you love him.

[joeliz99]

Under the stars- Theodore Nott

Sixth year at Hogwarts

Theodore Nott had always been a quiet young man, with a calm and reserved demeanor. He could count with one hand the number of friends he had made since entering Hogwarts. That detail didn't bother him; on the contrary, it had spared him from bad times and unnecessary enmities. His life was serene and somewhat monotonous, but he was content with that. After all, it was better than being at home with a father who never seemed pleased with what the young man did and the longing for a mother lost at an early age.

(Y/N) Greenwood lived to meet the expectations of the parents who had given her a home when no one else did. Always with the mindset of owing them everything she had achieved in her 16 years of life, and she had no plans to disappoint them in the slightest. From being sorted into Slytherin house, to being a polite and refined young lady, and showing disdain for those who weren't pure-blooded. It didn't matter if she agreed with it or not; it was the least she could do to show gratitude to her parents.

One night, while the rest of the Slytherin house students rested, Theodore and (Y/N) found themselves in the common room. Each in their own world. However, that very night, the two found a mutual interest that rested entirely on the power of a book that seemed uninteresting to others but captivating enough for them. What started with polite greetings in the common room, or the Great Hall, progressed to them sitting together in some classes. Later on, they became study or reading partners when they wished, and not long after, they found themselves spending time alone when there wasn't any other excuse to be together. That good friendship slowly transformed into affection, and that affection grew into love. Genuine and mutual love.

Theodore felt appreciated, just as when his mother was still alive, and his father became someone he faintly thought off. (Y/N) didn't have the pressure to pretend to be something she wasn't, she was simply herself. With her imperfections, her interest in the unknown, and her clumsiness. And Theodore accepted each of those things without a word of complaint.

Everything seemed perfect, and to a certain extent, it was. That was until the plans of a greater power interfered with the happiness of the young couple. Both were forced to serve Lord Voldemort even when they didn't support the cause. However, they yielded to the pleas and threats of their parents, who were loyal to the Dark Lord. Moments of tranquility ceased to exist, and the pressure on both young individuals to fulfill what had been imposed upon them was reflected in their lack of sleep, their little concentration in classes, and continuous paranoia. Yet, they still had each other, and sometimes that was enough.

Nights in the Astronomy Tower was a spectacle worthy of silent appreciation. The stars seemed to move to the Earth's rhythm, and the moon shone upon the two who layed against one of the arches in silence. Theodore's thoughts had drifted to a possible future that now seemed impossible, while the girl he loved remained lying on his chest, gazing attentively at the starry sky above them. The young man sighed and gently slid his hand down (Y/N)'s arm before planting a kiss on her head.

—(Y/N)... —

—Yes? — She didn't take her eyes off the sky, even though she was paying attention to what her boyfriend was about to say. —

—Do you think we would have had any chance to escape from all this? You know... For things to be different. —

(Y/N) takes a few seconds to respond and when she does, she simply shakes her head.

—I don't think so...— She adds after a moment. —We're too afraid. And if we had, we'd probably be dead. — Theodore clenches his jaw at the mere thought of losing her. He had already lost enough in this life.

—I'm sorry things are like this... You don't deserve any of this. I wish I could do more. — He murmurs, intertwining his hand with hers, who smiles bitterly and squeezes Theodore's hand.

—We're in the same position, Theo. There's nothing we can do... I just want you to promise me something. —

—What? — She lifts her face to look him in the eyes, and he smiles slightly, watching her intently.—

—Stay alive. — The girl whispers, brushing her lips against Theodore's. —I know it might sound selfish, but I don't care about anything else, Theodore. I know how things will be, and I know what we're facing. I can't even bear the thought of losing you because then none of this will be worth it. So please, promise me you'll do whatever it takes to stay alive. — Theodore remains silent for a while, just gazing intently at (Y/N)'s face. He places a gentle kiss on his girl's lips before nodding.

—Only if you promise me the same thing. I don't know what the hell will happen in the future, I don't even know if it'll be worth being in it. But maybe, just maybe, we'll have a chance to start from scratch. And I don't want to do that without you... So please, stay alive. —

The girl smiles slightly and nods, just as he had, gently caressing the boy's cheek before joining her lips with his. This time, the kiss was prolonged and filled with feelings and words too strong to be expressed with mere sentences. Their lips seemed made for each other, always syncing effortlessly and with so much love it seemed impossible. And right at that moment, even if it was just for a few seconds, everything seemed okay, like it used to be.

—I love you...— (Y/N) whispers as she breaks the kiss, her face inches away from Theodore's.

—I love you more. —

[bloopinggenius]

☆𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝☆| Yautja x 𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 | M/M/M/M/M x Reader

Chapter 𝐈 | Chapter 𝐈𝐈

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs**ᴄʜɪʟᴅʜᴏᴏᴅ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀ,ᴄʜɪʟᴅ ᴀʙᴜsᴇ,ᴅᴇᴘʀᴇssɪᴏɴ,ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ʀᴀᴄɪᴀʟ sʟᴜʀs

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Love was an emotion that Ryia hadn't experienced. She thought that she had from her friends at school, but from what she gathered on the internet and other people, it wasn't. She hadn't felt that sense of warmth through her body when she thought of her friends and she sure didn't from her parents. Her relationship with them was something she would never pray upon her biggest enemy.

When you think of parents, you think of the people who love you, who would protect you in the most dire of situations, sometimes even lay their life down for you but not for Ryia. At the tender age of four, her drug-addict of a mom had burnt her tiny body with scalding hot water almost every three days. It was a hiding game for Ryia. She would be in hiding until she got hungry then proceed to the kitchen to get something to eat, only to not make it out in time where her, already high, mother would find her and beat her. Her father was an absent father. He left the family when Ryia was 2. Now him and his new family are living the high life. Almost every month, they were travelling. Ryia always wondered if that's the reason why her mom abused her. Maybe her mother wanted to travel the world and live the lavish life. But she also couldn't understand why she was being abused. The urge to know the reason of her miserable lifestyle was greater than anything. Sometimes she thought that she was the reason that her mother's dream was hindered. Ryia learnt to look after herself from then on. She went to school with such eagerness, knowing that one day she'd graduate and leave home.

And she did.

Come gradution day and she had graduated and was off to uni on a scholarship. Heaven knows she worked her ass off to become the doctor she was. Even through this, she still helped her mother when she was diagnosed with lung cancer until she passed. Ryia didn't feel anything for the woman, heck she didn't even prepare a funeral. She simply sent her aunt an email regarding her mother's passing and left them to do the rest.

From then on, Ryia mingled around with people who treated like she was the scum of the earth and even had one of her exes call her racial slurs when the relationship ended.

However Ryia was numb to all her bad luck. She never smiled and rarely laughed. Sometimes, looking at her reflection after taking a warm shower, it looked like she was looking through herself, an empty shell with the remnants of it's contents a ghostly appearance. Even with all the money she had, she wasn't happy.

════ ⋆ ⋆ ════

Her life was like this until 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 day. The day she met 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺.

It was a chilly night, Ryia reading a book in the quiet of her bedroom. She had been reading Romeo and Juliet. The story not really interesting her. She was just trying to get a feel of their love; trying to gauge what it's like to be in love. She wasn't dumb. She knew lovers never fell this fast in love; she simply was trying to understand 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲.

She was so focused in reading her book. So intrigued at the way Shakespeare interpreted love. But nothing could have taken all of her focus to the point that she didn't hear the rumble of an engine outside her house. An engine? Why would there be an engine outside at this time? It was very late into the night, the moonlight stretching itself across her room creating a soft halo around her. She was incredibly startled. Confused and wary, she walked up to window to inspect her backyard. Her chocolate brown eyes scoped the area to find nothing.

Nothing in sight. As she turned to leave, she spotted something. The smallest thing ever, she wasn't even sure she would have seen it, but she did. Under the shadows of the tall trees that surrounded her backyard, she spotted wavy air.

Wavy air. Like the skeptic she is, she blinked, several times but the image never left her sight. She was scared. What could have been going on in her backyard at this time. But with the smallest, ant size of bravery, she decided to go check it out. She hoped that with her knowledge of black people dying first in movies, this wouldn't be that scenario. Walking downstairs was hilarious to her. She didn't crack a smile, no, but she did think that whatever she was doing in that moment was the exact thing the killed the dumbest people in movie.

'But this is real life', she thought. Just to protect herself though, she turned on the living room and kitchen lights. You never know what's lurking in the dark. Ryia walked into the kitchen and opened the cabinet above her stove. She got out a flashlight, the thickest skillet she could find, you know just in case and a large pocket knife. You never know where danger lurks.

After acquiring her items, Ryia cautiously walked out the back door to her backyard. The soft rumbling of the engine had stopped so she turned on the flashlight and walked in the direction that she saw the mysterious 'wavy air'. As she walked closer, flashlight helping with her vision, she noticed the waviness got taller and wider. The more she looked, the more she noticed that something was concealed there but she didn't want to admit it to herself. 'It couldn't be invisible, could it?', her thoughts questioning what she saw. All around her she could her a soft trilling sound. The rapid clicks reminding her of a woodpecker. As she reached out in front of her to feel the mystery object, she felt herself being pushed to the ground at breakneck speed; all her safety objects being thrown out of her hands. Everything was muddled for a second. It took a minute to recover and when she held herself up on her elbows, she looked around frantically. Wondering what the hell was going on, she grabbed the closet thing to her which was her flashlight and searched her backyard.

Ryia got up slowly, sitting on her legs before quickly crawling towards her things so she could return home. Whatever the hell was going on she was leaving it to God and running for her life. After getting back up, she turned towards her house ready to run, only to see the same waviness in front of her. Looking to her left she saw the same one still concealed under the trees. What could possibly be in front of her?

She heard the clicking again only this time it felt like it was two steps in front of her. Her head turned towards the sound slowly and what she saw made her drop her items once again. What was once air, was now something that could only exist in horror movies. In front of her, she saw a massive eight-foot tall humanoid creature. It had a huge crest at the top of it's forehead, two golden deepset eyes, no nose but four crab-like fingers on it's mandible. This creature was fucking huge. It's skin was a chestnut brown with black spotting. It looked like all it ever did was workout it's whole life with it's jacked body. It's taut muscles a canvas with the moonlight enhancing the dips of the muscles on it's torso. It wore silver armor, the most pristine she had ever seen. Nothing seemed off about this alien and she was so close to passing the fuck out.

What she didn't expect was to see four more appear behind the brown one. Each with their own bulky bodies made to perfection. At this point, she knew she was a goner. Each creature was around the same height. At the sight of them, she took a step back. At that moment her life literally flashed before her eyes. It wasn't like her life was special anyway. She knew what she was about to do was stupid but she did it anyway. Or attempted to. She turned on her heels and got two steps away before she was grabbed by her arm and thrown towards the other four. Her body slammed into the floor but it wasn't enough to injure her terribly. Her black curls were a mess around her face and her vision was blurry. She saw the tanned creature walk towards her and that was the last thing she saw.

════ ⋆ ⋆ ════

Ra'kar was the leader of his ship. His ship consisted of himself and four other yautja, all of which are his family. He was nine-hundred and sixty five. Culturally, he was an Elder.

His members were made up of his blood brother, Va'tha and three cousins, T'edqah, Vikap and An'tui. They were currently on a hunt. A forest was their destination but their engine became faulty so they had an emergency stop. Where they wanted to land had looked to be some sort of land near a lake but it happened to belong to a human. They hadn't known that the land was occupied so imagine their surprise when the tiny human emerged from her home in scared curiousity.

Her black locks framed her face and fell down her back in soft curls while she used the light-emitting device to help with her vision. She wasn't small by human standards looking to be atleast 5'11. She was curvy but fit and soft looking. One thing was odd though. Her skin was covered in darker patches and scars howerer that didn't take away from her beauty. Her black skin glowed in the soft glow of the moonlight. She cautiously approached the ship but Vikap being the rebel he is, knocked her to ground. She was frantic for sure, his bio-mask showing her vitals escalating. The five of them jumped down from the trees with such gracefulness, walking towards the fallen human.

Ra'kar was ahead of them, only a few steps away from her and grabbed her before she could escape throwing her towards the others. He didn't mean to throw her hard judging by the way she passed out by their feet. They were all confused at how fragile she was.

An'tui was the youngest and was quiet; very rarely socialising with others. "I think you went a little overboard brother", the burgundy-coloured yautja said.

"What should we do with her?" Va'tha spoke up. The dark green yautja was seven-hundred and forty. Being the brother of an Elder had it's perks as he was a seasoned hunter with many trophies adorning his chamber. He had many strong pups and many more to come with all the females constantly flirting with him. It was uncommon however for pups to be so close like he was with Ra'kar. And he also had a secret; one that could get him outcast. It was wrong and considered unworthy for a yautja to mate or be in a relationship with a human. His hidden desire for humans was buried deep within him years ago but the mere sight of this human had his emotions swirling once again. But he could and would be able to handle his emotions.

"We could just leave her here and continue our journey." Vikap snarled out, glaring at the passed out human.

T'edqah, being the medic that he is, gently picked her up, " Let us take her back to the ship. I must examine her for any injuries as i'm assuming that your intentions were not to hurt her?" With a sigh, Ra'kar agreed and soon after they were on their way.

━━━━━━♡ ♡━━━━━━

Hey guys!!👋 Trying something new. I would really love to make this a series so comment down below and let me know if you guys love this and if I should continue.

Sweet love and Peace✌

[yoztromo]

Sunday’s Clothing Analysis

Don’t read if you don’t want to interact with religious stuff that’s like entirely what I’m talking about, slight Penacony spoilers

This is all mostly word vomit and not read over I’m sorry

His Outfit

Sunday’s outfit is referencing the Bible and Christian things just like the rest of the Penacony story. Specifically he looks alot like Jesus Christ and many references to him on his clothing in more ways than one in not so very subtle pattern choices and colors.

Halo

Up first his halo, a not so subtle ode to the crown of thorns Jesus had worn. It has vines and thorns wrapped around the halo as well as eye-like shapes that point into the center of his halo. The crown of thorns was most likely a date palm, its spikes possessing toxins and can sometimes be around 12 inches.

It was worn during his death on the cross and was a mock from Roman soldiers to him. It is also showing how he gave up his heavenly one for a mortal one. It is also repeated many times in the Bible of the way of thorns and thistles being the way of sin.

It is also important in all of this as a halo means holiness as well as an aura or glow of scarcity, the first person commonly drawn with a halo being Jesus.

I would also love to point out that Robin is the only one with a circular halo, the most drawn halo and is drawn on the people most of the time on people close to Jesus. Sunday and Gopher Wood on the other hand have bursting halos, or a more naturalistic version, and not seen in many older arts at all and saved for Jesus.

Vines

With his halo the other places he has vines and thorns are his arms and torso. There is no passage of being wrapped in vines but there is a passage of when Jesus referred to himself as the vine.

John 15:1-17 are very close to what Sunday is as a person. Jesus is calling himself a vine, god his gardener in this passage. That the vine kinda depends on the gardener to help it bear fruit. Then right after calls the people who follow him the branches, that you don’t follow him you are a branch that is snipped off and if you are you stay on. That you should stay on him to bear fruit.

Right after that snip-it it goes into a rant of loving for each other and caring for each other's needs just like his father has taught him. That his father has loved him so he will love you. That no greater love is to lay down someone’s life for another; they are no longer his servants but his friends and to love each other.

With this it can show how that Sunday was in fact groomed by Gopher wood to act a certain way, to be a believer and disciple of The Order rather than The Harmony. That he was taught these ideals of his by gopher wood and he eggs him on as he tells everyone the things that he has taught him when he was young. The entire verse of John 15:13 is almost exactly like his boss fight, his almost ascent to Aeon hood. “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” That he was able to sacrifice himself, even rather than his sister, for the sake of Penacony’s sweet dream.

Stigmatas

I would also like to point out the reference to stigmata on his feet and hands, for those unaware a stigmata is a wound of crucifixion.

The one on his shoes have a pattern of piercing on both the bottom and the top in the middle of a cross while Sunday’s gloves are opened on the top of his hand in the same shape. Both of these places are where Jesus was nailed to the cross.

Fifth wound, Wing Clipping

Those are not all five wounds Jesus had though, as he had another from a spear that is in his chest/torso on the side. At first I wondered if it was the eye in the middle of his chest but I thought it couldn’t be it as it looks like an eye and it is on his side, it is probably part of his Halovian/Seraphim design as Gopher wood as well. I’ll talk more about this later.

So I wondered, could he be hiding another wound or some sort behind his wings? Or are his wings that fifth wound? His wings look as though they are clipped, let alone the one’s on his head are pierced which causes limited movement. They look clipped on his torso because while the right wing has many feathers clearly visible the left wing doesn't and is a noticeable amount shorter than the other. It would also make sense if there was a wound for his wings to be close to his chest, covering it up and making sure his appearance stays the same. Even if there was no wound and no clipping the symbolism of not being able to spread his wings behind his jacket is crazy, almost the same. The piercings on his wings even are symbolic as they are pointed, almost looking like thorns that punctured his ear.

When a bird's wings are clipped it is to help it depend more on its owner and become closer to it, another reason is to limit its motion and to make it safe in the owners care, the last reason is for it to socialize with others.

I can honestly see all of these applying to Sunday with Gopher wood being the one to have done it. With seeing how he has groomed Sunday in the Trailblaze quest I wouldn’t doubt that they were either a form of punishment for him acting out or something he did in the beginning ever since he knew Sunday would be easier to manipulate than Robin.

Rings

The rings on Sunday’s hand also have meaning, they are on the thumb and index finger of his right hand. The thumb ring represents several things and it can depend on the person but it represents independence, wealth, and power as well as authority. For the index finger, in some cultures that is the finger the wedding ring is worn, though it’s most likely not. The ring on his index finger means confidence and leadership.

Seraphim, Wings

Now that I have talked about almost everything else about him it's time to talk about all of the details about him that make him a seraphim. A quick lesson on what a seraphim is first. Seraph or Seraphim means ardor or fire. There are 9 choirs of angels, each getting closer and closer to God and praising him more and are the caretakers of his throne. A seraphim is the closest to God, being one of the three in the first triad(also known as throne) to adore and contemplate God directly.

A seraphim is said to be beings of pure light but is drawn as humans with six pairs of wings and many eyes, they enjoy direct communication with god and praise holy, holy, holy to him.

Now let’s look at some parts of his designs that make him look like a seraphim. Let’s start with his wings, Seraphim's are supposed to have six wings but he only has four? Just looking, physically he only has two sets, one on his torso and the other on his head, but you could say he has styled his hair to be the other two wings. There could be a chance that like Robin he has another pair of wings that he hides but we have yet to see them so we don’t know.

A part of me wants Robin to be a Seraphim as well as my mind is but as angel hiarch placements are earned he might be very high, either than they are the same place because they are Gopher Woods adopted children, but we just don’t know.

Seraphim, Eye/Eyes

Another big important part of a Seraphim is their large eye in the center of its wings, there happens to be one large eye in the center of his chest just like a seraphim. Though that isn’t the only eye in his clothing it’s the most prominent one, it’s especially important as some art only has one eye in the middle rather than a bunch of eyes.

He has SO MANY eyes over him it’s insane. They are the watchers of God's throne after all. His eyes range from his acsessorys to his normal clothing, there are literally so many eyes. (I didn’t add an image of the ones on the feet as I believe they are stigmata’s)

His back

Sunday has some sort of either symbol or emblem on his back, either that or it’s just part of his design just because. I feel like there could be two possibilities behind this piece but I’m not sure which one it could be.

The first possibility is to align with Robin, to look like he does. To have the charmony dove soaring(the gold part) over the sky (the halo/sun part) even if it may die it is free.

The second one I feel like could be more plausible is another way to see, like he is under Gopher woods control. With the halo being Sunday’s beta halo as well as Gopher woods. It could show how his actions every stop of the way have been led by Gopher Wood, that he is stuck inside of the Dreammasters cage.

Very small section I’m not going to even label it but I just want to say that I believe his metal looking thing of his is supposed to be his either rank in the family, or something given to him for being a bronze melodia.

Colors

Sunday is a mix of colors but is mostly blue, white, gold, and purple. And the liturgical year of the church has colors around it. I am going to focus on Blue and gold as there is much more blue in his design then the rest and gold as it also plays along in it. I would include purple but it isn’t show up a lot as well as it overlaps with these two colors already.

The only holiday to have blue in it is Advent. The leading up and arrival to Jesus’s arrival on earth. It is an invitation to join in the anticipation for him to reunite heaven and earth once and for all. To me that sounds a lot like when Sunday tried to make the cage, to lock everyone in the Asdana system in a dream, when they couldn’t tell reality from a dream.

When gold is around (often paired with white) it is the Christmas season as well as Easter. It is the birth of Jesus a holy day, as well as when Jesus resurrected and came back from the dead. Of course we don’t know if Sunday is going to come back yet and resurrect (I think he will) but he has become lost and has gone missing.

An honorable mention of purple is used during Lent as well as Advent. Lent is the time when Jesus spent 40 days fasting to resist the temptations of the devil. I don’t personally see anything in the story that can correlate to this.

Name

Sunday is clearly a day of the week but it is the most holy day as it is when God rested after creating the earth. I don't have much to say. I just needed to mention this as he makes references to the creation story himself.

EDITS:

For the wing clipping, I do want to point out that in the trailblazer’s harmony splash art the bird that represents Sunday or atleast people thinks is supposed to, has its wings clipped. One side is bumpy and has clearly defined feathers while the other had been cut.

Sunday is only supposed to be a stage name, not his actual name.

Please say something if I got something wrong or you want to add anything, I would love to hear. I will probably make an analysis on his story but it’s going to take a while as this itself took a while, so it’s going to take a while as well, probably longer. So smash that like button and subscribe for more content (I’m probably going to disappear for a while until I decide to randomly come back with other half).

[mybrainsautocorrect]

I was originally going to edit this more, but there turned out to be a lot. This show is utter poetry. Here’s my take on the final episode:

“In the end, he couldn’t kill you, and he couldn’t watch you die.” Will to Reba about Francis— mentioned this before and how it parallels Will and Hannibal to an extent. In parallel, though, Will is Francis because he couldn’t watch Hannibal die but he sure could kill him

“Was it good to see me?” No. (Good and bad are subjective anyway according to Hannibal, and I mean what did he expect, Will’s just that petty)

Your face is closed to me (later stabs it)- Francis to Will

“The dragon could absorb him that way, engulf him. Become more than he is.” Will about why Francis would want to meet/kill Hannibal (maybe talking about more than just the dragon— why Will himself wants to kill Hannibal so much)

“There is no advantage. It’s all just degrees of disadvantage.” Will to bedelia (exactly why no one truly wins, not even Bedelia, in the end)

“Can’t live with him, can’t live without him” followed by will���s “I guess this is… my becoming” after he had been using becoming and change from Francis’ perspective the whole episode- a hint at his upcoming death but also the fact that he is going to succumb to his ‘killer instinct’ because he is becoming what Hannibal always wanted

“Any rational society would either kill me, or give me my books” Hannibal hinting that he knows Will’s plan before he was even let out of his cell

“You trust Will with my wellbeing?” “As much as I trust you with his.” Hannibal to Alana, Alana back (call back to when she set Hannibal free to save Will, or hint that she knows wills plan to kill Hannibal -I mean she probably does but it wouldn’t be wise to let Hannibal know that- because will would not be safe with Hannibal for any length of time. The question would be if she knows that this also hints at the actual outcome of them both dying)

Multiple scenes where Will is the last character introduced, and is hidden right up until he speaks.— subtle foreshadowing of his death? That these conversations can and will occur without him there in the future :(

Significance of the mourners in the church? (Will and Hannibal’s last conversation with Hannibal still imprisoned)— perhaps for dolarhyde as it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume that Hannibal doesn’t know they’re going to kill him, but may also be for Hannibal himself as he did already hint that he knows Will wants to kill him

“I need you, Hannibal.” Will to Hannibal (double meaning- needs him for this and needs him in his life- cannot exist without him)

“Going my way?” Hannibal to Will after dolarhyde broke up the police escort (yes he is actually- into murder and over a cliff)

Hannibal and Will stood on the same cliffs in the daytime and Will stood right on the edge with his back to Hannibal. And they discussed two people who died because of Hannibal earlier on and how Will was there(like he’s next). “Soon, all this will be lost to the sea.” There is so much foreshadowing and I cannot stand it

~~~~~

And their entire final conversation

“I don’t know if I can save myself. And maybe that’s just fine.” Save himself from Hannibal’s influence or save himself literally? He knew that he was going to have to kill someone that night so it’s likely it was referring to the former, but he also has most likely at least considered that he will die so it’s perhaps both

“No greater love hath man than to lay down his life for a friend.” Hannibal, about himself or about will? Implies that Will was speaking about his death and not losing to Hannibal’s influence, but either option from wills words point to the opposite answer in Hannibal’s response

Hannibal said the above whilst standing between Will and the biggest window of all time, and followed it up with the admittance that he knew dolarhyde was watching them. That implies that he is the man in his quote who is laying down his life for a friend (will).

“Suicide is the enemy” Hannibal to dolarhyde (the enemy that Hannibal is fighting in regard to will?)

~~~~~

The music starts right as they begin working together for the first time. Called Love Crime

“I will survive, live and thrive, win this deadly game.” The lyrics as they go over the cliff. Despite being called Hannibal- the show has always been about Will. And he gets the last words. He wins. He may not get to survive, but he wins the game