Hi :)

There are so many beautiful edits and animatics in this community and if I were at all talented I would contribute in that area. Unfortunately, I'm not. But I do have a song and an imagination! Hear me out! Mezzanine by Lady Lamb! Here are some excerpts: 1. "There's a ghost. A ghost in the mezzanine. And she's soaked—soaked in a glimmering sort of bone." Very hallucinated Wendigo-esque to me. 2. "How I ache. I ache in the pit of me. I awake. Awake with this fear in me. How it makes, makes a fool out of me with its knife, how it carves the seeds out of my heart. For, to plant in the soil. For, to feast." Will aches in physical pain and primal longing, is afraid of this animal aspect of himself. The knife. A reference to Mizumono, s2 finale, suffering as cultivation of the true self, etc. 3. "Oh to me, you could quite possibly be the death of my dread, and the songs in my head could at last find their place and be sung." Hannibal 'helping' Will by making him no longer afraid of his more violent or sadistic thoughts/memories. Do with this what y'all will :)

Everyone posts the conversation Jesus and Judas have towards the end of the play, understandably so, but not enough people talk about Butch Honeywell's monologue. Butch talks about his wife and the day he met her, shocked by her beauty. A few days later, shocked by her utter decency, her capacity for quiet support. And then he speaks on the first time he cheated on her, three years into their marriage. How he didn't know why he did it, and he still has no idea. How, after that day, he felt in his bones that she wasn't his anymore, and how that genuinely tore it apart. And instead of confessing to her, he didn't, so sure that she wouldn't love him anymore, so sure that he wouldn't even deserve it if she did. Instead of speaking up the next morning, he only sat at the table and did not eat the breakfast she made them. Punished himself to make up for his transgression and refusing to own up to it. You know where that got him? Drowning himself in more alcohol and women to fill the utter chasm that he tore into himself. The certainty that he'd lost his girl, his little baby dinosaur, who slept like a loudly-snoring angel every night, right by his side. The worst part is, the utter tragedy of it, is that the certainty was counterfeit. He'll never actually know if she could've forgiven him because he never took to chance to find out. Automatically ruling out forgiveness, the possibility of becoming close to her once more, only served to put him resolutely far away from the very thing, the only thing, his soul cried out for. Oh, his body may have cried out for mindless pleasure, but his soul? His soul only ever wanted her. Ladies and gentlemen. This is the story of Judas and Jesus. Christ and his bride: Humanity. I love this allegory of a man cheating on his wife because it invokes the genuine emotional harm our withdrawl does to Christ. In fact, the whole play reminds us of this masterfully. We are not turning away from a faceless, immovable Creator, we are turning away from our Servant, our Shepherd, our Father, our Groom. He would miss us, should any one of us stray away. He loves us so ridiculously much. Possibly more than would be possible for any human. He's the one human being with the power to connect his essence to all of ours. Every last one. When one cries out in agony, so does he. He made sure of that the day that he died.

If anything, I think the reasons why women (ME) love Mr. Darcy are his respect of Lizzie's point of view and his MATURITY. At first he was offended by her rejection and the reasons given (some of which were actual misinformation) and responded indignantly with a letter that essentially said, "you've misjudged me, I was actually completely in the right"... but then he got to thinking. Maybe the former does not always make the latter true. Maybe an unfairly harsh criticism can indeed hold a grain of truth. How big is the grain? Well, that's where self-reflection comes in. Mr. Darcy is an intellectually honest man, he confronted this newfound image of his character head on. Like a man, not a boy. It's also the fact that Lizzie was the one who triggered his revelation. Lizzie, who he knew had an imperfect and narrow grasp on the events of his life. Understanding this, for months on end, he still poured himself over every single word she said during her scathing rejection, trying to find the truth of himself through her eyes. He would rather use Lizzie's imperfect scalpel right alongside his own as he goes about reshaping himself. And most bafflingly of all, he changed himself not because he intended to win her back like some prize, no. He never expected to see her again, and when he did, he never dared to resume his advances until she betrayed her love for him to his aunt! It was simply that he saw his flaws for the first time and could not stand by and do nothing to rectify them, another example of his striking maturity. Finally, all of this goes to show that she is not an object to him whatsoever. WHAT. A. MAN.

My favorite ship dynamic is good old fashioned lover boy (Crowley) × killer queen (Aziraphale). Yes, those are their roles in this dynamic, not the other way around. No, I won't elaborate upon why, the lyrics speak for themselves.