#there's no greater love than to lay down one's life for a friend. there's no greater devotion than to die with your general

[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)

[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)

[tevinterdays]

🎵

the song on shuffle when i saw this was french ambient metal without lyrics so moving to the next thing

shuffle has brought us:

rain in soho, by the mountain goats!

favorite lyric

no town more barren than our town no haven safer than the one they tore down

lots of honorable mentions in the tags on this one but this line in particular i always misremember as "no haven safer than the one we tore down" because i was listening to it a LOT when initially playing act 2 of bg3 as my tragic nightmare durge

send ♪ fr a song on shuffle from my library and a favorite lyric \o/

[batri-jopa]

Being aromantic is like

hearing about Romeo and Juliet being "one of the greatest love stories" I just reflexively shrug my arms thinking about the most stupid mistake death

yet most randomly remembering the scene from a movie Spartacus 1960 that I last time watched as a teenager...

and I'm just...

[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.

[lightofsorrows]

My name is Numa. I died on December 11, 1972. In my sleep. ["There is no greater love than to lay down one's life for one's friends."] LA SOCIEDAD DE LA NIEVE / SOCIETY OF THE SNOW (2023) Dir. J.A. Bayona

[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!

[thewordfortheday]

To give your life so another person can live is the ultimate proof of love. He told His disciples: “Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends” (John 15:13). And then He set the ultimate example of self-sacrifice by going to the cross. In so doing, He not only proved His love for you and me, but He also made it possible for us to be forgiven of our sins and to have an eternal home in heaven. Such love is too vast for me to grasp.

[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.

[wiirocku]

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

[sprinedankle]

my god please watch society of the snow, this story never fails to touch my heart, i don't know why i find it very close to me, i don't know if it's because it happened in my home country, that they were people that argentinians take as brothers, uruguayans, neighbor people, good people, with big hearts.

but it is the one i have the most affection for and i will always cry because of it, i even wrote a whole essay about it for school, what a heartbreaking and shocking movie, i dare to say that its the best movie about a real tragedy that i have ever seen in my life, especially the scene of the plane crash.

really loved the fact that the film focuses on those who stayed on the mountain, remembering them as fighters, how everyone had an important role and didn't try to look for a hero, i think that's worthy of applause.

the director did a spectacular job with this project, i read that he contacted the survivors and the families of the victims, many even participated in the film, and i find it incredible how this film didn't become something morbid, like many hollywood projects of the same style. here it was always established that everything that was done, was in order to survive.

"greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends."

[godslove]

𝐉𝐞𝐬𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞

The Bible has many stories with great lessons, but there is one small detail that the scribes forgot to mention. Jesus Christ also loved Judas Iscariot. He asked God to forgive everyone in His final moments on the cross.

Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.” And they divided His garments and cast lots.

—‭‭Luke 23:34

Jesus knew the prophesies and what will transpire from the very beginning of their journey together, till the end. He became his teacher, taught him the Father's love, washed his feet, shared meals on the same table and loved Judas like a brother anyway.

As followers of Christ, we are to do the same. This is what will set us apart as children of God. We know the Father's forgiveness and Christ's redemption. We are to embody Jesus' compassion and gentleness in a world that does not know our heavenly Father's love.

“I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me.”

—‭‭Galatians 2:20, Paul the Apostle

We are to love and pray for both our friends and our enemies, because Jesus loved and died for their sins as well.

‭‭“But I say to you, love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you, ⁴⁵ that you may be sons of your Father in heaven; for He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.”

—Matthew 5:44-45, Jesus Christ

I think the greatest test of Christianity is not only loving Jesus Christ, it's also loving Judas.

Like Judas, we are all sinners. And like him, Jesus also loved us. Jesus Christ is the ultimate example of what true Divine Love is. And it is far from the worldly, conditional love we know.

“This is My commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. ¹³ Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends.”

—John 15:12-13, Jesus Christ

To the child of God that is reading this, don't be so hard on yourself. My love, regardless of what you have done in the past, Jesus Christ also loved you unconditionally. He did it for you so that sin will no longer separate you from our heavenly Father.

So I invite you to see rightly in your heart what is beyond what scriptures, doctrines and laws written in books can teach, to know the embodiment of God's love that surpasses human understanding—Jesus Christ.

Jesus Christ loved everyone, including you.

[tittytwister777]

"Greater love has no one than this: that he lay down his life for his friends". John 15:13

[jubileemon]

Why Sir Pentious Deserved Redemption?

Sir Pentious was perceived as a typical villain. His grandiose self-image and melodramatic antics suggest a character ripped straight from the pages of a vintage comic book. Despite his declarations of evil, he was never truly evil.

The Path to Redemption

In the episode 'Radio Killed the Video Star', Sir Pentious's facade of villainy crumbles, exposing his true vulnerability. Tasked with espionage and facing failure, he is met with a cruel ultimatum from Vox to end his own existence. This moment of despair highlights his low status in Hell and his profound misery, a stark contrast to his usual bluster.

For all of Sir Pentious's bluster about being a card-carrying villain, he knows how low on Hell's totem pole he is, and he's completely miserable about it. When Vox hires him as a spy in the hotel only for it to fail in less than 24 hours, Vox tells him to kill himself, and Sir Pentious's reaction is to roll into a ball and ask Vaggie and Angel Dust to just finish him off before Charlie intervenes and inspires him to try reforming for real.

Sir Pentious's readiness to accept death at the hands of Vaggie and Angel Dust further underscores his desolation. However, Charlie's compassionate intervention offers him a lifeline, suggesting that redemption in Hazbin Hotel may be more attainable than previously thought.

Charlie's belief in the possibility of redemption becomes a turning point for Sir Pentious. Her insistence on a sincere apology resonates with him, and he embraces the opportunity for change. This pivotal moment marks the beginning of his transformation from a villain to a character capable of genuine growth and redemption.

Bonus Points: In "Scrambled Eggs", Husk complimenting Sir Pentious becomes even more heartwarming when the next episode revealed Husk was a former Overlord, meaning that, in a way, Sir Pentious did get an Overlord's approval.

The Ultimate Sacrifice

As the Bible itself says: "Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends" (John 15:13), which is exactly how Sir Pentious died a second time- he used his weaponry knowhow and battle experience not to conquer, but to save his loved ones.

Sir Pentious' journey culminates in 'The Show Must Go On', where he makes the ultimate sacrifice for his friends. His transformation into an angel and subsequent ascension to Heaven is a testament to his character development and the power of selfless love. His final act of heroism, a failed but brave attack on Adam to protect the hotel, may not have succeeded in its intended purpose, but it demonstrated his willingness to lay down his life for others. This act of valor is a poignant illustration of the biblical principle that there is no greater love than to sacrifice one's life for friends.

Right before his act, Pentious gives Cherri a kiss and tells her to remember him, which she actually finds kind of hot. Because Sir Pentious was reincarnated into heaven, it's likely this ship will never be canon, unless Cherri Bomb ascends.

While Angel Dust was technically the first occupant of the hotel, his motivations were initially self-serving. Sir Pentious, on the other hand, becomes the hotel's first genuine client seeking redemption. His initial intentions may have been dubious, but his journey towards redemption and ultimate success in reaching Heaven is a powerful narrative of transformation and hope.

Sir Pentious being sent to Heaven actually matches the rules made by Adam in "Welcome To Heaven".

"Act selfless". He showed only kindness after he joined the hotel for real.

"Don’t steal". He returned the only thing he stole (part of Alastor's coat) back to its rightful owner, and apologized for it at the same time.

"Stick it to the man". He died trying to attack Adam, the Original Man, to save his friends.

A New Precedent in Hazbin Hotel

Emily's general lack of presence in the finale is a sad detail in itself. Despite her horror at the exterminations and promising Charlie that she'd figure out someway to help her, in the end it appears she wasn't able to do anything at all. Before Sir Pentious appears (thus vindicating both Charlie and Emily), Emily is shown dejectedly lying down on a table in apparent silence with Sera sitting next to the door. The implication being that Sera was able to successfully prevent Emily from doing anything about the exterminations, and/or that Emily was worried about the potential consequences of going behind Heaven's back.

Sir Pentious ascending to Heaven. Pretty much gives Charlie the last laugh against any and all naysayers who think redemption is beyond sinners. His arrival in Heaven, particularly in front of Sera and Emily, signifies a moment of triumph for Charlie's vision and shakes the foundations of what is believed possible in the afterlife.

Sir Pentious' character arc in Hazbin Hotel is a compelling narrative of redemption. It challenges the notion of irredeemable villainy and celebrates the potential for change, even in the darkest of places. His story is a beacon of hope for all who seek redemption and a reminder that everyone has the capacity for transformation.