#alexa play hozier

[cheeseburgersinparadise]

studies in softness

[katteefs]

feeling lesbian urges.

[eddiesghxst]

that tiny pause where eddie holds his breath when you first wrap your lips around his tip and sink over his cock. his eyes flutter shut and his head tips back as his hand gently rests on the back of your head, his tummy clenching as he finally lets out that satisfied little sigh with a breathy “fuuuuuck.”

[insinirate]

i'm crying over the husbands..... so cozy, so warm Dx do you think at night... nai might ever just climb up onto the roof of the farmhouse, and gaze up at the night sky? he'd probably look at all those bright stars, and just... think back to what it was like, to be a big shared consciousness with the angelic plants, and what it would have been like to have everything, to have ultimate power and to have wiped out all the humans and protected his brother?

...and then vash finds him, climbing up onto the roof with a quilted blanket, laying it over them both and cuddling up to him. plants may not even feel cold, but vash just naturally shows his love and affection through acts of service like this, he can't help it. and in that moment nai probably thinks to himself... maybe this life isn't so bad.

better luck next time mr millions

[torturedpoetdean]

i fucking LOVE being bisexual everyone is SO HOT and i fall in love EVERY DAY

[spineless-lobster]

I know some people are worried that the fandom will die once the show ends but I can assure you that most of us are not going anywhere. I’ll just repeat what I said in the tags of another post because I don’t think I could phrase it better lol

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Ghosts it’s that the end isn’t really the end. We’ll just be continuing the show in it’s afterlife :) WE’LL be ones holding food club and film club, we’ll keep a seemingly old and run down place alive.

Everyone will still be writing fanfics, creating fanart and gifs, theories and headcanons. It is completely possible for fandom to continue without the media continuing.

All I’m saying is that the Ghosts fandom will remain alive and well even after the show ends :)

[emilyjunk]

Decided to try a new thing where I listen to songs about it being okay in hopes I might fake it til I make it

[mayasaura]

Hi! I was wondering if you knew if there's like a... Master References/Theories Post or something floating around? Or at least a good post about "the Eurydice theory"? I keep seeing people mention it, but I'm not sure what it is.

I know Chaos has been collecting theories on @lockedtombtheories so that's definitely a place to hit up! If there's a masterpost, I don't know about it.

Though I'm sure there are more, these are the posts I know about involving Eurydice: This one, by @snailmailmp3, this collection of quotes collected by @thunderon, this post by @appsa explaining the connection and their art about it, these two I made, and this beautiful art by @melli4uhbees.

For a more thorough explanation:

The Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice is a story about a bard named Orpheus whose lover, Eurydice, is murdered on their wedding day. Orpheus follows her into the underworld and appeals in his grief to the God Hades, asking him to give her back. Hades, or in some versions Hades' wife Persephone, is so moved by the beauty of Orpheus' song that they agree to allow him to bring her back with him when he leaves. On one condition. He is not allowed to look at her until they are both free from the underworld, or she will return to Hades to stay. Orpheus accepts, of course. In some versions of the story the shade of Eurydice is silent, and Orpheus begins to doubt that the Gods have honored their bargain. Some versions don't have an explanation at all, except that Orpheus couldn't wait to see her. In every version, Orpheus turns around. He sees Eurydice one last time, before losing her again forever.

The theory is that Gideon is Eurydice to Harrow's Orpheus.

In Harrow the Ninth, Harrow is told to "turn around" twice in as many words; you can refer to appsa and thunderon's posts for the exact quotes. Though we don't know it yet when it's said, "turn around" explicitly means "give up on Gideon". It means completing the lyctoral process. If she turns around, she loses Gideon forever.

It's not covered in the posts above, but I'd argue Harrow is told to turn around three times. Twice explicitly, and one more time by Magnus and Abigail. They don't use the words "turn around", but they do advise her to "go home, and wake up," and tell Harrow, "She died. She can’t come back," discouraging her from searching for another, even more dangerous, solution. They frame the story of Harrow and Gideon along the same themes as Orpheus and Eurydice—a grief so cutting that it compels the survivor to walk into death rather than accept it—and caution her that this story ends in tragedy.

If there is a conclusion to make, I would say that it's just .... Harrow still hasn't turned around. She still doesn't know if her Eurydice is really there behind her, but we do. We know that she is. They're still on track to Gideon returning to life.

[scarletdreamers]

La Vita Nuova

This is a little snippet of a post-fall Hannigram fic I'm currently working on! Just leaving the preface here and then we'll see. Enjoy!

-

Preface, Hannibal

The dragon laid dead at their feet. The pitch black of the night reflected upon both the water shimmering behind Hannibal, and the blood that was spilled all over the place. In the luminescent moonlight the two looked horridly similar. 

The hand of a man reaching for him through the sharp air of the night. Ready to take. To merge.

The blood stained hand of the only man in the world Hannibal had ever loved. The man he’d done all of this for. The hand of satisfaction was being offered to him. It gifted him everything Hannibal ever wanted when he took it as lovingly as he was able to. 

It gave him Will. All of Will. 

And all at once, everything around them didn’t seem to matter anymore. Nothing seemed to matter, only this moment. This scene, stretching out in front of him. 

He took Will in his arms. It felt as if a force came to exist around the both of them. A shield protecting them from the ugly world outside. It extinguished every light aside from the shimmer in Will’s blazing eyes. They reflected the fire in Hannibal’s own eyes as they pierced right into the deepest parts of his psyche. 

A declaration of understanding. 

A surrender to love.

‘’See? This is all I ever wanted for you, Will…’’ 

His words were gently spoken, but they carried the weight of millions. For the first time in his life, Hannibal found that the words came out of his mouth before thinking them through.

’’For both of us.’’

 It wasn’t just a disclosure, it was a confession. 

All air got sucked away between them during the second it took Will to catch his breath and respond, but his answer was worth the suffocation. 

‘’It’s beautiful.’’ 

Will’s words made Hannibal feel something he hadn’t felt in a really, really long time. He wasn’t sure whether to describe it as true happiness, he’d forgotten what that felt like, but the feeling was very present. It was the size of something much greater than them.

Hyronymous Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights painted on the priceless canvas of reality. Flesh, blood and desire in its highest form. They were one and the same. Hannibal could feel Will inside of his body. Rushing through his veins, crushing into the walls of his heart. 

The need to connect was more important than any of the injuries they’d suffered. The physical boundaries of their bodies didn’t stop them from clinging onto each other. On the contrary, it made them grasp tighter. It made their holding more desperate. 

And for once, Hannibal found himself in peaceful oblivion. Unaware of what would come next, but whatever it was, Hannibal was prepared for it. As long as Will Graham wouldn’t slip away from him, he was willing to end up anywhere.

He would be content with walking through the gates of Hell tonight, as long as he had Will by his side. 

Folie a Deux. Madness shared by two. Hannibal remembered teaching Alana about the term, convinced that he would never find himself relating to the words. Yet here they were- In their world, madness used to have no name. Madness was no more than a ghost from the past, long before they were born. It never existed in their little world. In their world there were only those foolish enough to keep up weak appearances and those who were able to let that go. 

But here, Hannibal could taste it. That madness. And it tasted sickeningly sweet.

He rested his head against Will’s and inhaled his scent. Now that he’d quite literally been flipped inside out, his own blood all over him, Will smelled more like himself than he ever had before. It filled Hannibal’s head with bliss. 

He felt Will’s arms tightening around his neck. Will gave him a second to register the gesture, before he leaned forwards. 

Will pushed them both over the edge. Into the gaping void of the gushing ocean beneath them. 

Wind rushed past them as time seemed to slow down. Both of them stuck in motion, Will’s arms so helplessly wrapped around him. His face so lovingly buried in Hannibal’s chest. To his surprise, Hannibal didn’t feel his heartbeat accelerate. It slowed down instead. The calm beating of a fulfilled heart. 

Hannibal had never been afraid of death. Throughout his whole life he told himself that he would welcome it like an old friend if it ever came to it, but he knew that if he let himself be killed, it would be by something greater, a bigger force than what a human body was able to contain. He never considered himself deserving of death, but he’d known that God would come for him when it was time. 

Thirteen years old, with the cold corpse of his sister laying lifeless next to him in the red-stained snow, had been the first and only time he’d ever prayed to God to take him away from this place. To at least let him be reunited with his sister’s restless soul floating around him all the time. Just too out of reach for him to catch, too close to forget about her. Even death seemed more comforting than whatever torture he had to endure during those moments. 

He’d weeped and sobbed until his throat was dry and he physically couldn’t produce more tears. God hadn’t answered his begs. He’d left Hannibal’s mind to die while punishing his body with the cost of having to live on. 

Hannibal had consumed Mischa out of grief and hunger. Right under the eyes of God. He’d looked up at the sky while he choked on her flesh. That was the moment he decided to never bind himself to another mortal human being ever again. If God couldn’t release him of his pain, then he would find himself rerising within the skin of the devil. He would continue his fight against existence, just to spite the being who rejected his pleas. 

From now on, he would be motivated by his own desires, and that alone.

And then he found Will. Cruel Will, who’d taken a hold of everything Hannibal ever stood for, who had shaken all of it up like that was something he could just do, and who never let go. Will who tempted him, over and over again. Who understood him.

To love another person is to see the face of God. 

Hannibal had finally found the truth in those words, although it frightened him.

His darling Will, an intruder in his mind, a form of cancer spreading in his ruined stomach. And Hannibal had never wanted to do anything but keep it, love it and let it take him over. 

Hannibal had been one of the greatest motivators during the journey of Will’s becoming, but Will didn’t know that Hannibal’s own corruption was now complete. Will had finally taken him over completely. Utterly defenceless in his vulnerability. He had him, because Hannibal was allowing him to drag them into death. 

Something he’d sworn to never let another human being accomplish. 

His death would be one caused by achingly human hands. By real flesh and bone. And Will was pulling himself along, leaving everything he’d worked so hard to build for three years behind within the blink of an eye. 

Three years that felt like decades while Hannibal was rotting in prison suddenly felt like three days since their reunion in Florence. They were back at the beginning and at the same time they’d long passed the finish line. They were running to no-man’s land. Where nobody was cheering at them to accelerate anymore. No one was screaming at them to win the game. The game was over. The passion in their spirit to keep running was all that remained. 

But how could Hannibal waste this moment on thinking? How could he lose himself inside his own head when Will was there, bare and clearer in his intentions and beliefs than he’d ever been before? 

Hannibal tightened his grip. The air around them was cold, but Will was warm. Soothingly warm. Hannibal’s lips found the top of Will’s head. Just below where his beautiful curls rested on his forehead. He pressed the slightest kiss against Will’s hot skin. 

Maybe it wasn’t even enough for Will to recognize it as a kiss, but it did make him feel something, because Hannibal felt him letting go of a deep breath. As if all tension he’d been holding in the entire night was set free by the single gesture of a phantom of a kiss. 

Hannibal knew that the fall wouldn’t take forever. Fate would never grant them that much time. Not even now, in their final moments. Hannibal could’ve thought about so many things. He could’ve thought about the FBI, or about how he should feel sorry for Chiyoh because of making her prepare things for an escape that wouldn’t be set in motion. He could’ve spent his final moments thinking about his little sister.

But Hannibal didn’t want all those things. All he could think about was how they were going to escape. He was falling, straight into the mouth of Hell, but he was falling holding Will. He was falling into death holding the man he loved. Truly and deeply, like he’d never loved another.

Will you forgive me, for all of it?

Will’s voice echoed through his mind. The words were never spoken, but they could both feel them dancing around the both of them. 

I would never be able not to forgive you.

Hannibal’s lips formed a smile against Will’s skin. 

-

Before he knew it, Hannibal was hit by a deafening ringing in his ear and a blow against his head so violent that he passed out before he could feel any pain. 

All his senses faded into one big blur of red, the red faded into black.

And the black faded into something lighter. Something not made of one particular colour, but there was light. Sunlight. It had to be sunlight, because the light felt warm on his face.

Hannibal opened his eyes in surprise, since he hadn’t been aware that they’d been closed in the first place. He blinked a few times to adjust his vision. The intense light of the place got a little less blinding and his surroundings a little less blurry after a few blinks. 

It didn’t take him long to know where he was. He would recognize this place everywhere. In life or death, he would be able to see that he found himself in the Cappella Palatina. 

The place where his broken heart had been stored and also the place where it had been brought to life again. The place where Will had come to look for him, after the worst betrayal of all. The place where Will had forgiven him for this betrayal. A sacred place. A beaming shrine of love amidst the shadowy hallways of his mind. It was a place that felt like home.

At least, it was an altered version of the chapel. The building was unnaturally empty, unnaturally silent and the ceilings and windows seemed a little higher than he remembered them to be. Hannibal realised that he was sitting. He was sitting on a simple chair and there was a carbon copy of that chair standing next to him at his left side. Both faced towards the chapel’s apse. The altar.

The second chair was empty as well, but Hannibal knew who it belonged to. He didn’t have to turn around to feel that person’s presence behind him. Every sound was a hundred times sharper in the surreal silence around him.

The confident clicking sound of dress shoes echoed on the tiles of the floor. No words were spoken. Hannibal closed his eyes. He heard someone sitting down on the chair next to him. A deep breath of relief. Hannibal opened his eyes.

Will was sitting next to him. He was agonisingly beautiful with his closed eyes and his face bathed in the sunlight coming from the window at his sight. He looked like an angel. An angel in his refined blue suit. He looked at peace. Completely at peace. Like all the worries that never seemed to leave the man’s shoulders had finally departed from them. 

Will was no angel. Hannibal was more than aware of that. 

Will was a saint. A holy being tainted in his illusory humanity. This was a being worth a million sacrifices. Something more worth living for than Hannibal had ever found in God. 

Hannibal inaudibly gasped at the sight of him. 

They sat in this silence, this comfortable moment of peace, for the longest time. Nothing hurt. There was no past, there was no future. There was only the present. The significance of this moment and the unspoken words that floated around between them. There was no need for them to be said out loud. Both of them were aware of their message.

But like always, their silence was interrupted. The ticking of a clock. An old clock that could use some restoration, but it ticked nonetheless. The hourglass had been flipped. The sand was moving. Even in this place there was no forever, as much as both of them wanted to.

This wasn’t reality. Hannibal knew the rooms of his mind palace better than any other place. He recognised them when he saw them. Will’s face lacked scars, and the chapel was empty. This place did not exist outside the figment of imagination it was constructed in. 

Hannibal was well aware that this was a scene in his head. 

That, however, didn’t make it any less important. Or less beautiful.

Hannibal knew that this fantasy was a shared fantasy. He knew that it was also playing in Will’s mind. It had to be. It was too real not to be. 

But his worries about this rapidly started taking the better of him. As soon as Hannibal started thinking about reality the scene started shifting. The clock ticked louder. There was a crack in the church’s roof.

It didn’t take long to start crumbling. More cracks appeared in its marvellously crafted ceiling. This scene gifted by his unconsciousness was now stained by reality’s familiar doubts. Hannibal should’ve stayed oblivious.

Still, he didn’t tear his gaze away from Will. He waited for him to realise that something was off. Hannibal waited for dust to fall on Will’s face. 

It didn’t, but Will did open his eyes to look at him. Sea storm blue irises stared directly into Hannibal’s own. 

Hannibal didn’t have enough time to see what message was behind them before the flood washed over them. The chapel came tumbling down. The roof collapsed in less than a second and everything faded to black once again.

[the-heartlines]

aemma velaryon and aemond targaryen

"Aemond, Aemond, Aemond. 

 His name on her lips is the absolution he seeks. She is the God he wishes to worship and her body could be the altar he prayed before. Let me please you, he wants to beg. I’ll get on my knees for you, he wishes to say."

- our violent delights by bikadoo

[astrobei]

i have once again fallen madly in love with someone i made fleeting eye contact with at the airport

[physicallyherementallykissingmen]

bi but the 90% is in the way orville peck is and the 10% is in the way hozier is.

[sundialheart]

complete silence will have you contemplating and ruminating

[deadrosessociety]

[risarchives]

Vindemiator tastes the cruelty of an Enforcer. Freelancer immediately runs to him, helps him up, and holds him still. Say it!— the Enforcer commands. The Freelancer sits there, beside him, as if some semblance of mercy, as if the closest thing to salvation. With such careful touches, they make him feel like a sacred thing. Something that holds value. He looks at them (Worry— worry in their eyes... why, why for me?) and says: Thank you. The Enforcer proceeds to talk, to mock the demon, thinking the gratitude was directed towards him— but Vindemiator hears, sees, and feels nothing but the poor, unhappy Freelancer who would do anything but leave him helpless.

Later, in the haven, in the midst of grieving their separation, he searches for them in his dreams.

Audio RP | At an Enforcer’s Mercy [M4A]

[robinruns]

Hearing Foundations on the radio is such a trip still. Like I got into my car and my brain instantly recognized MCR was playing (because when is it not?) and I thought "how'd my phone connect so fast?" And then I realized it was actually on the radio.

I love My Chemical Romance. I love Foundations of Decay. I love 106.7 The Resistance out of Madison.

I also love that it's Friday. My brain is pudding in my head and I have to go grocery shopping and pack and UGGGGGHHHHHH

I'll use the power of MCR to get me through 🙌🏻