#six chaos slay | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nastasya--filippovna · 5 months

Text

WHO IS CROWLEY AFTER THE FALL (PART2)

Here it is finally.

So what is the Leviathan.

In mythology and theology the Leviathan is a sea-serpent and is mentioned in several books of the Hebrew Bible such as the Book of Job and Book Isaiah and Book of Enoch. The Leviathan of the Book of Job is a reflection of the older Canaanite Lotan, a primeval monster defeated by the god Baal Hadad. Parallels to the role of Mesopotamian Tiamat defeated by Marduk have long been drawn in comparative mythology, as have been wider comparisons to dragon and world serpent narratives such as Indra slaying Vrtra or Thor slaying Jörmungandr.

Once again we see the pattern of Biblical creatures being “inspired” from pagan ones.

Thomas Aquinas described Leviathan as the demon of envy, first in punishing the corresponding sinners. Peter Binsfeld likewise classified Leviathan as the demon of envy, as one of the seven Princes of Hell corresponding to the seven deadly sins. Leviathan became associated with, and may originally have been referred to by, the visual motif of the Hellmouth, a monstrous animal into whose mouth the damned disappear at the Last Judgment, found in Anglo-Saxon art from about 800, and later all over Europe.

In the Book of Enoch, The Leviathan is a female giant chaos serpent that lives deep in the ocean, while her mate, Behemoth, is a male giant chaos beast (based off of a hippopotamus or water-ox) who lives in the mythical desert of Duidain, East of Eden.

Ring any bells. Chaos mongering (fomenting), ox, eastern gate of eden….

The Hebrew word that translates to Leviathan (Livyatan) appears six times in the Old Testament. One of them is in Job 41. The word is derived from the root Iwy or ‘ twist, coil’ and means ‘the sinuous one.’ So I think we can establish that this creature is at least indicated to be snake-like. Scholars trace the etymology of whale and crocodile

In the Book of Isaiah it is mentioned that the beast will rise from the water and will be defeated by God on the Last Day. However, quite interestingly nowhere in the Old Testament is the Leviathan written as evil. Only later scholars have equated it with the devil so that the battle between God and Chaos can be interpreted as the battle between God and the Devil.

Now let’s make this more interesting: The Gnostic sect venerate the biblical serpent of the Garden of Eden as a symbol of wisdom, which the malevolent Demiurge tried to hide from Adam and Eve. They identify the Leviathan as the serpent of Eden and in this belief system the Leviathan appears as an Ouroboros, separating the divine realm from humanity by enveloping or permeating the material world.

I mean I don’t even need to say anything further.

And he does show up in GO Season 2. The matchbox.

Here

When did this happen, I wonder……hmmmmmm

Oh YES!

Crowley wearing Aziraphale’s face

Here’s the rest of the passage from Job

1 Canst thou draw out leviathan with an hook? or his tongue with a cord which thou lettest down?

2 Canst thou put an hook into his nose? or bore his jaw through with a thorn?

3 Will he make many supplications unto thee? will he speak soft words unto thee?

4 Will he make a covenant with thee? wilt thou take him for a servant for ever?

5 Wilt thou play with him as with a bird? or wilt thou bind him for thy maidens?

6 Shall the companions make a banquet of him? shall they part him among the merchants?

7 Canst thou fill his skin with barbed irons? or his head with fish spears?

8 Lay thine hand upon him, remember the battle, do no more.

9 Behold, the hope of him is in vain: shall not one be cast down even at the sight of him?

10 None is so fierce that dare stir him up: who then is able to stand before me?

11 Who hath prevented me, that I should repay him? whatsoever is under the whole heaven is mine.

12 I will not conceal his parts, nor his power, nor his comely proportion.

13 Who can discover the face of his garment? (penetrate his coat of armor) or who can come to him with his double bridle?

14 Who can open the doors of his face? his teeth are terrible round about.

15 His scales are his pride, shut up together as with a close seal.

16 One is so near to another, that no air can come between them.

17 They are joined one to another, they stick together, that they cannot be sundered.

18 By his neesings a light doth shine, and his eyes are like the eyelids of the morning.

19 Out of his mouth go burning lamps, and sparks of fire leap out.

20 Out of his nostrils goeth smoke, as out of a seething pot or caldron.

21 His breath kindleth coals, and a flame goeth out of his mouth.

22 In his neck remaineth strength, and sorrow is turned into joy before him.

23 The flakes of his flesh are joined together: they are firm in themselves; they cannot be moved.

24 His heart is as firm as a stone; yea, as hard as a piece of the nether millstone.

25 When he raiseth up himself, the mighty are afraid: by reason of breakings they purify themselves.

26 The sword of him that layeth at him cannot hold: the spear, the dart, nor the habergeon.

27 He esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as rotten wood.

28 The arrow cannot make him flee: slingstones are turned with him into stubble.

29 Darts are counted as stubble: he laugheth at the shaking of a spear.

30 Sharp stones are under him: he spreadeth sharp pointed things upon the mire.

31 He maketh the deep to boil like a pot: he maketh the sea like a pot of ointment.

32 He maketh a path to shine after him; one would think the deep to be hoary.

33 Upon earth there is not his like, who is made without fear.

34 He beholdeth all high things: he is a king over all the children of pride.

The Leviathan is a magnificent creature. And the very fact that God goes to so much trouble to describe the magnanimity of this creature is to show what God has created and hence Her magnanimity must be even greater in comparison for the Creator is always superior to the Creation. And if God can so easily abuse and humiliate this beautiful monster, then God must be worshipped and feared.

Though to the unsuspecting eye these passages may ring no familiar bells, a closer look makes you realize how Crowley-coded they are. And to think that in a story where Neil has never witten or shown anything that wasn’t woven in finely with the characters, I alwsy wondered why he chose the Book of Job for the minisode when he could have included any other one.

But it reminded me that Crowleys character is truly unrelenting. He’s a nether millstone. He won’t give up that easily. He absolutely won’t submit to anyone, and he’s shown time and time again that his vociferous litanies about running away disappear as soon as someone or something he cares about is in danger (i.e. Aziraphale). And the second coming will also threaten his creation (the universe). His refusal to submit to authority, the refusal to be subjugated is the reason he fell in the first place. And quite interestingly he doesn’t own Hell either. He resists that too. For him it’s not Heaven or Hell that matters but the resistance to Power.

I also think it’s also fitting that the Leviathan is perceived to be a monster that must be slain or enslaved but in reality is another of God’s creations just like the sun and the stars and the rivers and the mountains.

And it makes me think of how Crowley has always been labeled as evil because he fell. I think of how, at heart, he is truly gentle and kind, he’s a starmaker. But his fall, his appearance, his desire to be autonomous and his grey moral campus make him feared and a target. And that has made him the embodiment of chaos. His refusal to submit himself to the uniformity of both worlds, to the rules and guidelines that create this illusion of order sets him apart from them. He embraces the chaos that grayness offers, that being ‘human’ brings. And hence the final battle will be between God and chaos with God justifies as being the battle between good and evil because, well, he’s a demon.

The Leviathan being historically associated with the sin of envy is again I think written into the plot very carefully. He is envious of humanity’s ability to question God, to have choices to not be doomed to heaven or hell for all eternity. He is envious of what Maggie and Nina have. He’s envious of what Beelz and Gabe have.

“I mean if Gabriel and Beelzebub can go off together…..”

And then him rejecting Azirapahle’s offer— he has spent his life (a long, long life) rejecting power and authority. In his relationship with Aziraphale he found his sanctuary, a relation clean of power dynamics. Up till now they were both equal. But this new offer jeopardizes that.

And I love how his ego and pride come to play here. He would never accept being “second in command to anyone”. And his envy of how God’s mercy is free for some but wholly denied to him.

41 notes · View notes

cryptictongues · 8 months

Text

Cruel

pairing: Barnabas Tharmr x Leviathan!Reader rating: Explicit (MINORS DNI; 18+) word count: 4.5k summary: You will be Barnabas's ruin.

warnings: porn with plot, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, praise kink, vaginal fingering, body worship, angst.

This was supposed to be an Enemies with Benefits type beat but lmao it shifted a little bit. Hope this kicks off the week for those that enjoy!

Spoilers from the very beginning of the game, as well as certain things about Barnabas you learn later in the game. Also, there are some references from FFXVI Ultimania. Explained some of that in a comment if interested!

There are a few lines used from the game in the beginning. I do not claim that I own those lines or anything that Square Enix has created.

[AO3 link]

Barnabas didn’t want to be here. Sitting here with Dhalmekian’s leaders as they list all the reasons that he should grant them his knights to fight against the Ironblood makes him mentally roll his eyes. He only accepted the invitation for this meeting to ensure the plan he has set forth is going as planned. All in its right place he tells himself.

“Did you not pledge your swords to our cause!? The Marshal yells, and all Barnabas can think of is how pathetic the Marshal is. Men begging for him to save them, as if they deserve saving. He feels Harbard take a defensive stance beside him, sword at the ready.

“Come now. Marshal–the king of Waloed is our guest.”

Silence spreads at that statement, as if they are remembering who it really was that they were in the presence of: Barnabas Tharmr, Warden of Ash and king of Waloed, and the Dominant of Odin… a Dominant that has slayed thousands upon thousands in battle with a single stroke of his blade. They knew not to step on his toes, or they too would seek the same fate, as well as a termination of allyship.

Barnabas turns to Harbard, shaking his head and scoffing at their pleas. Harbard goes at ease and looks to the Dhalmekian leadership. “And you have His Majesty’s answer.”

Groans and sighs waft around the room, no words being spoken as everyone contemplates their next moves. Barnabas casts his eyes down, thinking about how everything is going. His goal for this meeting is to have Hugo Kupka take the field as Titan, needing him to take down the Shiva Dominant that the Ironblood have so she can be captured. He needs all of the Dominants in the right place for this to work, and if he gets her, then everything will be set. Well almost.

Most of the Dominants outside his circle are exactly where he needs them. Bahamut is out of the way, staying within his means of commanding the Sanbrequois forces. Ramuh is out playing “hero”, most likely nearby to try and retrieve the Shiva Dominant. The Phoenix is six feet under where he belongs. All of this comes to fruition as the perfect vessel, his mythos, starts to come together. There is only one issue: you.

Leviathan, Goddess of Chaos. The one who should be by his side to bring on a new age. But you fail to see the bigger picture, and that has led you astray. It infuriates him. You infuriate him. It drives him mad that you could betray him, and potentially ruin everything he has laid out, yet still have a soft spot for you. It makes him sick to think that no matter how hard he tries to fight his urges, you are still able to make him remember that he is what he hates most: human.

Commotion returns his mental focus as he hears shouting coming from the hallway, blood curling screeches growing louder before everything falls silent again, aside from the footsteps approaching the double doors. Once the footsteps halt, the doors swing open… and there you are in all of your glory.

“Sorry to crash your meeting, my dear friends.” You say, bowing slightly, although Barnabas could tell it was in a mocking manner.

He keeps his face stoic, but his insides churn at the sight of you. It has been a few years since his last encounter with you. You had left him ten years ago, leaving not a trace of your whereabouts. It had sent him spiraling, as you were the last person, he expected to turn against him. The next time he saw you was a couple years later when he arrived back from Storm to the shores of Waloed, and he saw you there by the ship port. His first emotions were anger for how dare you show your face. That was until you climbed aboard, dragged him to the lower deck, and had fucked him on the floors on the Einherjar. Then you disappeared again, seeming to find him a couple times a year since and the both of you would engage in a few rough rounds before departing again. There are many times in the beginning he contemplated getting rid of you, the sting of treason heavy on his heart, but he grew to accept this agreement. If it meant he could be close to you, to share some semblance of the past when you were his most avid supporter, it would be enough. The last time he saw you was three years ago up until now, a big gap of time spent compared to the others. On the inside, he was surprised, but you tend to have a way with your timing on things.

You look older, but he still saw the radiance you allure, wearing a dark blue velvet gown that covers your every step. Collar bones exposed and skin glowing like the moon reflecting the sea. You are like a siren calling to him, and it was working because all Barnabas could think is how beautiful you are… and how cruel you could be all the same. Because he knew your presentation was for him, and that he would break. He always did.

You are standing by the table now, hands placed on top as you scan the room. Everyone looks shocked, not expecting surprise visitors, let alone a rogue Water Dominant. The reaction makes you smile; you love catching people by surprise. Your eyes land on Barnabas, and good stars above, he looks gorgeous. Chest slightly exposed, beautiful blue silk and black fabric in intricate form on his body. He really hasn’t aged a day.

Finally, a member from the Dhlamekian council stands, taking an immediate defense posture. “I don’t know how you bested our men, but you are not welcome here. This is between us and the Waloeders.”

You shrug. “Well thank goodness that I am a Waloeder. Well, by blood at least.”

Benedikta snickers, an obvious grimace on her face. “And you chose to leave, therefore I don’t think you have business here.”

You turn to her, a wicked smile appearing on your face. You walk towards her, placing your hand on her face to caress her smooth skin. “Oh, but I do, Benna.”

“Keep your hands off of her.” You hear a growl from across the room, turning to see it is none other than Titan himself. You feign innocence. “Or what? Are you going to put your hands on me? It’s not nice to manhandle a lady.” You turn fully to him now, a smirk forming over your innocent gaze. “Not that I personally mind it.”

Barnabas internally growls at your notion, moving his hand to his chin to keep his jaw locked. The last thing he needs is for his facade to slip.

You sense the Marshal stand, irritation clear on his face. “I’ll ask one more time to leave, or I’ll have my guards escort you out.”

You belt out a laugh. “What guards? Look around!” Your arms go to the air spread out, turning your torso from side to side to show that it is just them. That seems to set him off as he goes to walk towards you, seemingly wanting to throw you out himself. You can’t have that.

You put your hand out towards him, feeling the blood run through his veins before gripping your fist, causing the Marshal to stutter in his stance. He gasps in pain, grabbing at his chest as he tries to breathe. You throw your fist down by your side, sending him to the ground in a fetal position. You keep your grip as you walk to him, bending down as you place your other hand's fingers on his chin, lifting it up to look at him. You see he is struggling, and all you can do is tsk. “Know this: I could make you scream just like I did to your men out in the hall. Consider this a mercy.” You tap his face before releasing him, leaving him on the floor as he tries to gain his bearings.

Your attention goes back to Hugo Kupka. “You may want to ready yourself, Titan. The Ironblood are invading Dhalmekian territory as we speak.”

Hugo’s face is stone, walking past Marshal and others to the door. “Kupka!” The Marshal chokes from the floor. Hugo doesn’t look his way as he replies. “The Ironblood will rue the day they set foot on Storm… this game is over.”

He makes his exit, closely followed by Benedikta. You see her leave with confidence in her stride, very obvious that she is trying to prepare her facade. You chuckle at this new development.

“Everyone out.” A stern voice says, and you turn to see it is none other than Barnabas, whose hard stare is on your form.

Everyone is still, not knowing if they should listen as it is their territory after all. You, however, could care less. “Do the lot of you not understand signals? Get out.” You say sternly, command dripping from your voice. The council slowly makes their way out, afraid to talk against you due to what they witnessed. You hear them talking amongst themselves in disappointment, confusion, and curiosity, questioning what business Leviathan has with the mighty Odin. You turn your head towards the Lord Commander himself, watching him stay firmly in his spot. “That means you too, Harbard.” Barnabas dismisses him, and Harbard walks past you, smirking as he is the last one to exit. The doors shut and you face Barnabas. “It’s been a long time, Barney Boy.”

His face twists. He hates when you call him that. You walk towards him, commanding his attention as you sway your hips. “Awe, does the strong, dark King of Waloed not like being called that?” You walk slowly behind him, placing your hands on his shoulders. “Would you like me to call you something else, your majesty?” You draw out, hands running down to the inside of his royal blue undershirt. You lean down by his ear, taking a second to let your breath graze it as your left pointer finger traces the scar on his chest. “Would you like me to call you something endearing like my dearest?” You kiss under his ear, and he shivers. “Or…” you continue to kiss down his neck. “Would you like something a little more submissive like my pet?” You nip at his neck, and he grunts.

He craves you in this way. When you left Waloed, left him, he struggled. He had been with several women since, but he always feels like he has to hold himself to the standard he’s set for himself. He could always be vulnerable with you, no matter if it was you in control or him. With you, he gives himself fully and he can’t say he ever regrets it even though you will be his ruin. He is sure of it.

You step back from him only to step into his line of vision, leaning against the table. You place your hand on his cheek, and he leans into its cool embrace, craving anything you would give him. “Someone seems touch starved. Is Benedikta not keeping you warm at night?”

“Nobody will ever compare to you, no matter how cruel you are.” He speaks truthfully, turning his face into your palm to press his lips to the softness of your skin.

“Is that true? Because I know of someone, or rather something that seems to topple over me.”

He growls. “You know my relationship with my master is not the same as it is with you.”

Your hand moves from his cheek to grip his chin, holding it tightly as your eyes burn into his. “Are you sure? Because it seems every time we are in this situation, it’s my name you call out; like I am the one that can grant you salvation.” You bend down to kiss his forehead, whispering your next words against it. “It’s a shame I can’t seem to make that illusion stick.”

You pull away and move to sit on the table. Your left foot is set on the arm of his chair, while your right one rubs against his muscular thigh. You love how muscular he is, his battle hungry body filling his clothes out deliciously, especially in his black trousers. Your foot moves past his thigh to his crotch, rubbing his bulge with little pressure. He is staring daggers at you, but you know he won’t do anything. He could have taken you in his arms and fucked you face down into the table if he wanted to, but he knows your command is law in these moments. Right now, you are his God.

You push your foot slightly, causing him to buck into it with a sigh. “It’s okay though. I like to pretend, even if it is for a moment.” You set your right foot on the other side of the seat to settle on the arm rest. You pull your dress up, exposing yourself to him.

Barnabas licks his lips. No matter how many times he’s had you, he will never get tired of how beautiful your womanhood is. His breath deepens, wanting so badly to touch you, but he knows the rules. You are in control.

“Did you want to touch me, Barnabas? It’s been a long time since you’ve had a taste, hasn’t it?” He mewls, nodding his head, hands clenching and unclenching to calm himself.

You smirk. You know him like the back of your hand. You know what he wants, and you are going to give it to him. “Go ahead, my darling. Claim your prize.”

There is hesitation on Barnabas’s half. It isn’t like you to give in so easily. You will toy with him until he is begging for you to let him touch and taste you. You would make him watch as you pleasure yourself, letting the sweetest gasps fall from your lips. You wouldn’t let him have what he wants until there is visible evidence of your essence dripping from your fingers. You see his hesitation and you giggle. “There is no catch, my dear. This is all for you. Indulge in me, worship me, for I know it is what you crave.” You lift your foot again, this time putting it on his shoulder to edge him forward. He simply cannot refuse.

He reaches forward, his big hands starting from your calves to your thighs, gripping the flesh as he brings himself forward. He places kisses on your thighs, giving small nips only to lick them right after. He takes his time with you, worshiping you like you deserve, making sure to convey his devotion to you as your encouragements reach his ears.

“You revere me so much, don’t you? You are doing a wonderful job at showing that.” You purr, using one hand to run through his dark locks. “But I want those pretty lips to worship me where I will be brought to ruin. Will you worship me there?”

He looks up to you, steel blue eyes stirring with his need to praise you. “I will do as you wish, my Goddess.” He goes in, securing your legs over his shoulders, and letting his tongue sing praises against your delicious cunt.

“You are such a good boy.” You mewl, gripping his hair as your other hand holds you up so you can watch him please you. All you can think is how beautiful he looks in his submissive state, an absolute juxtaposition to the battle hungry maniac he is.

His hold on you tightens, his actions becoming more relentless the more you praise him and the more your essence starts to make its way onto his tongue. He moans into your pussy, lapping at your clit with vigor. He has had many women on his tongue, more as a way of getting them ready for his own selfish pleasure. No one has ever compared to flavor, for he yearns for you to fall apart on his mouth. To know that he is the one to bring you to completion makes his blood pump strongly through his veins, going right to his manhood.

Your noises grow louder, becoming apparent that your release is calling to him to give you what you need. He takes his right pointer and middle fingers to your heat, sinking them in as his tongue worships your clit. He feels your hold on his hair grow stronger, and his moan against you with the fast work of his fingers signals your finish. You cry out, thighs squeezing around his head as he rides your orgasm out. He slurps the sweet liquid dripping around his fingers, letting you calm down as your breaths echo throughout the room.

You pull his head up, hard enough to the point where he is now standing in between your legs. You are both staring at each other, both breathing heavily waiting for each other’s next set of commands and moves. You stare at his lips, glittering with your essence. Your resolve is breaking down, your want to do what you haven’t done in many years taking hold of your heart.

Barnabas is waiting for you to tell him what you want from him next when gravity seems to shift as you pull him down, your lips pressing against his in hunger. Time seems to still, his mind going insane as your lovely lips move against his. Something he noticed in previous meetings is that you would never kiss him. Whenever he would go in to kiss you, you would avoid saying he was undeserving of that kind of affection from you. The last time he had kissed you was not long before you left. It has been ten long years since he received this blessing, and rather than thinking about what has changed, he loses himself in you wanting to make up for all the times he wasn’t allowed to love you like this.

His hands grab your face, holding it in place as he escalates his kisses. The callused skin of his palms feels good on your cheeks, the roughness causing you to latch your hands to his top attire. You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him on top of you as you deepen your kiss with him. His bulge is right up against your wet cunt, and he softly grinds into you. The feeling feels good on both ends, both of you capturing each other’s gasps and choked moans as things get heavier and more intense.

You pull away, placing both hands onto his cheeks as you look at him. The emotions swirling in his gaze are almost too much to bear, and if you want to do this right, you cannot be sucked into them. You won’t let that happen.

“Make love to me, my darling. Please.” You whisper.

He is fast to lower his trousers enough to release his cock, lowering his face to yours to kiss you again as he sinks into your warm heat. You whimper, his cock stretching you out in an exquisite way. It has been a very long time since you’ve had him on top of you like this, and you will burn this into your memory for all time.

Barnabas picks up the pace slightly, letting go of your lips to trail wet kisses down your neck. He sucks harshly where your neck and left clavicle meet, the need to mark you infiltrating his soul. He missed loving you like this. He can’t believe you are allowing this. For so long, it has been you to have your way with him, to have complete control over the situation. In any other instance, if he had instigated this, you would have punished him till kingdom come. But you started this. You allowed this. It is now the both of you engaging with each other how you both used to. It is too good to be true.

If only he knew that it was.

He keeps leaving marks on your neck, painting the beautiful picture that you are his to mark. He is pumping his cock in you in deep strokes, reaching every depth of your cunt that sends you reeling. His hands travel down to your breasts, squeezing through the velvet of your dress which makes your nipples rub against the fabric. You hum in approval, bringing your hands to the collar of his undershirt to move it aside, bringing your mouth to his chest, the both of you now marking each other as you both reach the edge together.

Barnabas is fucking you full force now, his right hand pulling your head back as his mouth leaves your now marked body. His lips meet yours again, praises and whispers of affirmation leaving each other in the same breaths.

“Release for me, my Goddess.” He breathes into you. “Bring me to ruin.”

You cry out against his lips, your walls squeezing his cock as you cum for him. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him against you as he releases during your high. He draws in and out, slowing down as his cock becomes more sensitive by the second. Once the both of you are down, he releases your lips, heavy breaths and stares exchanged in the aftermath. He groans as he pulls out of you fully, causing you to sigh at the emptiness, letting your legs unravel from his hips to dangle against the table.

You work to calm yourself down, needing to get yourself together before you do anything else. Your eyes shut, focusing your mind on your next moves. You know what you need to do, yet you didn’t realize cutting off your boundaries would make this much harder. It has to be done.

You sit up to see he has fixed himself up and is staring at you with what you can only see is hope. It makes your chest pang a little harder, knowing what you are about to do will sever your ties with him for good.

You move off the table, situating yourself so your gown is smoothed out and looking somewhat presentable. As you are doing this, you see his feet reach your line of sight. You look up and he is directly in front of you. His eyes are soft yet holding back. He is smiling down at you, and it makes your heart flip. You want so badly to confirm you are here to stay, but that is far from the truth.

“What’s changed?” He breathes out. “This isn’t like you. I feel as if I’m back in the past; back to how things should be.”

Your gaze stays down, working up the courage to say what you came to say. His hand comes to your chin, mimicking how you had gripped his chin earlier, and lifted your face to his. He is examining you, not understanding why you don’t seem happier. “You are usually so cruel to me, making me earn my servitude. But most of all, you haven’t blessed me with your kisses in a decade. So, I’ll ask again, what’s changed?”

You sigh, stepping back from him. His hand is still out, confusion taking over his features at your mannerisms. Your confident gaze is set back onto your face, not wanting to potentially give into him. “This is a goodbye.”

“A goodbye? Meaning what?” Barnabas asks, his tone shifting slightly, his brows knit together.

“I’m leaving Valisthea… for good.” You admit.

His blood runs cold. Leaving? What could you possibly mean by that?

You watch his features shift once more, only this time it snaps your heart in two. He is scared; you can see that very clearly. It is the scared look of a boy, as you know deep down that is who Barnabas is: a lonely, scared boy. You continue. “Things around here are getting worse with the Blight and the ridiculous wars you and everyone else seem to lash out with. Countless lives lost to them. It is barbaric, and this place is no longer a place I can proudly call a home.”

“My biggest reason is that I cannot live in a place where you exist.” Your voice shakes.

“Exist?” He chokes out.

You smile, a hint of sadness complimenting it. “The way you want the world based on how your god wants it will not only destroy everyone, but it will also destroy you. I will not stay to bear witness to it.”

“You know that this is the only way to salvation.” Barnabas says above a whisper, not wanting to give away his motives, but he knows it is futile. He knows you are smarter than that.

You laugh, sorrow building in your chest. “If your plan to have us enslaved by that thing you call a god is salvation, then I’d rather be dead.”

The next thing you feel is your back hitting the wall, Barnabas pushing himself into you as he holds your head in his rough hands, eyes staring at you belligerently. The scared boy you saw from the deep dwellings of his heart vanishing before your eyes. “We have always belonged to one another, ____. We can build a world that no man could ever dream of seeing.”

This sends you into a spiral, causing you to laugh maniacally. “I have always belonged to you, but you have never fully belonged to me.” You push him off of you, leering at him as you can feel yourself starting to rage. “You were the only one who could bring me to my knees, but I am not the only one that can bring you to yours.”

You rush towards him, pushing him into the table with your hand on his throat. “Remember this, Barnabas.” You seethe. “You may hate mankind, but under all of your disdain, you are still nothing but a man. Not even being Akashic can change that.”

You feel him try to turn you over, but as soon as you feel him move you grip your free hand, making him stop in his tracks as he groans out in pain. You make his blood run slowly, having it flow away from his hands and feet to make them go cold. “Do you forget who you are dealing with? Your god made my Eikon the strongest. That was his first mistake because unlike you I am not a sheep in wolf's clothing. I will not stay to be his puppet.”

You let him go, backing away as he drops to his knees, numbness in his limbs as the blood slowly returns. “For your sake, Barnabas, I hope you find peace as I understand your need to avenge, but I will not stay for the finale.”

You kneel, looking at how pitiful he looks. “I do love you. And because I do, I must save myself the heartache that I will never be able to change your mind. Goodbye, Barnabas.”

You stand back up and turn away, walking to the doors and out of his life for good. Barnabas coughs, hitting the cold floor with his fist to calm the anguish that repeatedly suffocates him because now he really is alone.

If only you knew that his attempts to keep you here weren’t for ulterior motives… he just wanted you to stay.

#barnabas tharmr x reader #barnabas tharmr smut #barnabas tharmr angst #ffxvi x reader #barnabas x reader #my fics #angst #smut #ffxvi #final fantasy xvi

72 notes · View notes

nighttimepatrons · 2 months

Text

Maglor, Maedhros, and a Silmaril for day six of @maedhrosmaglorweek

this art is for an au of mine where all the feanorians are dragons across the western sea. Morgoth (the undenialbe master of middle earth of all of it's peoples) sails to the land beyond the sea, slays Finwe and steals three eggs which he will wear upon his brow as crowning gems. After the murder and theft he returns to middle earth in shining victory... with nine furious dragons in hot pursuit. Chaos and tragedy ensues.

Can you actually believe this is the first time I've made something in advance for a fandom week, amazing. I am truly growing as a person.

#my art #maglor #maedhros #stealthros au #the silmarillion #maedhros and maglor week #dragons #middle earth #man drawing this made me feel like a real artist again #dragon art #tolkein #tolkien

27 notes · View notes

lilisouless · 1 year

Text

What your favorite Six of Crows ship says about you

inspired by this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ns_7ax-i3DE&list=PLZKnRTyUP15ZC04zScew3pmDG8ZaKno_M&index=12 and the other serie s of videos

Kanej: You crave a romance with the yearning of a period drama but also want to create unstoppable chaos while holding hands

Helnik: Your thing is enemies to lovers as long as it pays off with tons of fluff afterwards (also chapter 40 doesn’t exist)

Wesper: You like ships with the versatility of working in any possible au…And you may have anxiety and/or self steem issues

Hanina: You favorite aesthetic is either royalty core or cottage core

Matthias/Nina/Hanne: you just want Nina to be happy and fuck the fjerdans in all senses

Kuwei/Jesper : you just wanted good things for Kuwei (and really, who wouldn’t?)

Ninej: Your love language is physical touch, sharing sweets and slaying together

Kazper: You have a secret crush on someone in your life or you love buddy cop comedies

Kaz/Nina: You though the books were written by Sarah J Maas

Inej/Jesper: You believe in friends to lovers supremacy , but keep it to yourself to avoid toxic responses that you clearly don’t deserve

Matthias/Kaz : You don’t like enemies to lovers, you like enemies WHILE lovers (or you just wish Wesper went harder with their hostility phase)

Wylan/Kuwei: same as above , but more like a passive aggressive kind of hostility

Nina/Jesper: you have a crush on one or both and since you can’t have them you just make the most bi couple to ever bi

Jesper/Matthias: Probably shipped Bert and Ernie in your childhood before knowing what shipping was

Kaz/Wylan : Your thing is corruption and revenge stories, also hate the Dad!Kaz thing

Inej/ Matthias: You just don’t understand why short people with tall partners will beg to get lifted instead of climbing over them and obliterate them

Wylan/Matthias: You don’t actually ship them, you are just a Kazper shipper who doesn’t want Wylan to be sad

Alinej: Your thing is bodyguard au! (Also totally your choice but you should consider Alina x Tamar)

Zonej: There is a surprising lack of positive desi women representation on YA literature, so you said “alright i’ll do it myself”

Nina/ Nikolai : You are heterosexual

Nikolai/Kaz: 🎼 two bastards are better than one, is twice the cringe 🎶

Kaz/Anika: You tried to get into Kaz x reader but you didn’t feel y/n had enough personality for your taste

Kaz/Imogen: You want to see more of this girl, you also dig lost love tragedies when the main characters doesn’t end up together

Kaz/Saskia: you don’t exist

Anya x Joost: you wouldn’t survive a single A song of ice and fire book

Aditi x Colm: You are a textbook hopeless romantic

Colm x Marya: you are so lost in the thought of second love chances, that you didn’t thought the implications of wesper becoming step brothers

Marya x Alys: you are so lost on the thought of destroying Jan Van Eck that you didn’t thought the implications that Alys is probably at least twenty years younger

Jan Van Eck x Death:I respect your opinions but i seriously don’t get it,death is clearly too good for him

Inej/Dunyasha: You love enemies to lovers in theory, but in practice you would rather they just stay on the enemies stage

Important: i had the link saved since this was on drafts and didn’t remember it gets you to a hp video themed since is the first one on the reproduction list, i recommend skip the video if you can’t stand anything related to jk rowling

#netflix shadow and bone #six of crows #leigh bardugo #jesper fahey #kaz brekker #wylan van eck #nina zenik #inej ghafa #crooked kingdom #kuwei yul bo #colm fahey #aditi hilli #marya hendriks #THIS ARE ALL JOKES #i have nothing against x reader fics #cw anxiety mention #cw jk rowling in the link

175 notes · View notes

bubblespalace · 3 months

Text

The Accords (Original Version)

Chapter II

Bella trudged over the dirt covered ground, a scowl on her face. She was screwed over by The Clave once again, they gave her one last mission to do in Japan before she left. All that ran through her mind was home, and she was getting really sick of being treated this way. At least it was an easier mission, killing a Bakemono. However, these demons where good at hiding and running.

She would have to pay close attention when fighting.She had used the medical supplies to bandage her puncture wound from the demon she had faced about two hours ago, but it stung to high hell. It would be a pain to fight with, that's for sure. The small snack she had purchased hadn’t made her any less starved, in fact, it only made her more aware of her weakness due to malnourishment. When Bella finally arrived in Milan, she would eat as much pasta as she wished. She craved to taste Conchiglie again, and fresh baked bread with spinach salad…

Bella shook off the want for food and rest, she didn’t have that time, she would instead allow it when she stepped foot on the stone-paved sidewalks of her home. The trained woman marched forward, her back straight and a warrior-worthy expression on her face. She looked around the dark forest, checking for any sign the monster had passed through these woods. She saw the scratches left behind by claw marks on the trees, and the dripping of demon blood that left burning holes in the leaves scattered across the ground.

Seeing this, Bella picked up her pace, determined to find the demon and slay it. The Shadowhunter warrior ran fast, feeling the cold air fill her lungs as the night wind nipped her face, she slammed her boots into the ground with such fury until she approached a gate.

This gate was made of rot iron, and a glorious mansion was set behind it. Bella wrapped her hand around one of the bars, cursing herself for being so dumb. Of course the demon sought out a place where it could hide in small nooks and crannies, it would be much harder to find now. The woman looked up, checking to see if she could jump over the gate from it’s lowest point, but these were rich people, after all, they wouldn’t want anyone breaking in. However, Bella would have to trespass on this property to execute this demon.

She quickly sheathed her angel blade and grasped onto the iron, pulling herself up the gate. The action took her stamina quickly, she had to gasp for breath when she finally dropped to the ground on the other side. Bella felt so weak, she was beaten up pretty badly. She said a silent prayer to the angels, worried the little strength she had left wasn’t going to be enough to slay a demon.

Her boots were louder than they should have been for a stealth mission, the Soundless runes she had carved into the soles when she had a stele were finally wearing off. It would make it very hard to sneak up on the monster. They clanged against the pavement as she walked down the pathway, on either side, beautiful white roses grew in the bushes. Bella stopped for a moment to admire them and catch her breath better, brushing her hand against the soft petals and capturing the watery dew that rested on them. Someone here took very good care of them.

She heard a noise behind her, it however, wasn’t the sound of a demon. It sounded like a boy. Bella glanced behind her, catching the eye of the source of the noise.

He was shorter than her, but not by too much, maybe six inches-she was wearing two inch heels though. Although he had a child-like look to him, he seemed about her age. Nineteen, or maybe younger. He had soft purple hair that could put the shame the hue of lavender and matching amethyst eyes that looked almost like a sea of chaos, ever changing. Under those gorgeous eyes, were bags that were very dark, like he hadn’t slept in weeks, just like her. He was dressed nicely, in a school outfit that was well put together, unlike the man who she encountered at the gas station. He was grasping onto a stuffed bear with an eyepatch. This boy had a neutral expression on his face, but she could see something else there that she couldn’t quite read.

He spoke in Japanese at first, but when he saw the confused expression on her face, he switched to English.

“You smell quite good.” He muttered, his eyes boring into her almost like how Ayato's eyes did to her before. His accent was still thick when he spoke in English, just like Ayato. However, this boy gave Bella a slightly different energy. He looked down at the teddy bear in his arms. “Right Teddy? She’s pretty too, prettier than Yui-chan. She looks like a doll.”

Bella was caught of guard for a quick moment, she had been called hot before, mostly by suitors she used to ignore in Idris when she was going through her training. Shadowhunter were courted fairly young, since most only lived to thirty due to how dangerous their lives were. She had never in her nineteen years of life had been called beautiful though. It made her feel more feminine, which she liked. But she felt something was off about this boy, the same feeling she had when she encountered Ayato.

He paced closer to her, very close, almost too close for her comfort, he held onto Teddy with one hand as he brushed her messy, curly hair out of her face. “You’ll be a wonderful doll. What’s your name, my doll?”

Somehow, all thoughts of her mission left her head. “Bella. And yours?” She answered. The short man’s eyes sparked something.

“Your accent makes your voice very beautiful. Fufu~ I want to keep listening to it.” He told her. She smiled, a small blush dusting her cheeks. “My name is Kanato-kun.”

That name rang a subtle bell in Bella’s mind, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Maybe she had met a Kanato in the past? She rubbed elbows with lots of different people, due to her basically being an assassin for The Clave. “Nice to meet you, Kanato.”

“A pleasure.” This boy spoke very elegantly, Bella couldn’t help but be interested, but she quickly remembered what she was here to do.

She blinked, looking around the outside to see if she could catch a shadow of a demon moving to another hiding place. “Uh, I have to go, kid. I’m hunting something.”

Suddenly, his entire demeanor changed. His soft eyes became hard in a blink of an eye, and his mouth twisted into a scowl. Bella flinched, seeing the sudden change shocked her. “You will not be leaving, doll. You are mine now.” Kanato grasped onto her wrist tightly, with apparent rage, catching a glance at the back of her palm, where she had a Protection rune, one she’s had since birth. His features twisted once again, this time into a sadistic smile. “Now I understand why your blood smells as good as it does, you’re a Nephilim. Fufu~ I’ve always wanted to taste Nephilim blood, angels must taste so very sweet. One puncture scar on your skin won’t be as bad, right Teddy?”

Kanato bared his fangs, they gleamed menacingly under the moonlight. Bella gasped in surprise and horror, realizing he was a vampire. She yanked her wrist out of his grasp, taking steps back defensively. “Back off, bloodsucker.” She threatened as she pulled her angel blade out of it’s sheath and pointed it at his throat.

Kanato glared at her, she felt the intensity coming from his stare. “Don’t call me that! You are weaker than vampires so you must treat me with respect!” Kanato yelled. Bella had to stifle a laugh, he looked so much like a child in that moment. The purple-haired boy noticed and gave her another deadly look. “I wouldn’t laugh, Shadowhunter.”

Bella pressed the tip of her blade against his throat. “You may be a vampire, but I’ve killed many of you bloodsuckers in the past. I can easily slit your throat.” The Shadowhunter pressed the tip against his Adams apple, but Kanato was unfazed.

“I'll drain your blood until your skin is white, have you watch me drink it, then sew that mouth of yours shut, doll.”

Suddenly, he sprang at her, his fangs out and ready to pierce her skin. Bella yelped and dodged him quickly, and while doing that, she tripped him over. Kanato fell flat on his face, the stuffed bear shielding his ribs from the concrete. He growled and started to push himself up with one arm, but Bella kicked him hard in the ribs. The lavender-eyed man gasped and crashed against the ground again. Bella kept him down with her high-heeled boot, pressing it firmly against his back.

“Don’t get up, kid.” She said, putting away her blade.Kanato turned his head, looking furious, but he wasn't looking at her. He said something in Japanese through grit teeth. The Shadowhunter scrunched up her face, confused as to who he directed that to, but as she turned her head, she saw a man.

He was also insanely attractive. With hair as white as a Shadowhunter Mourning outfit and striking red eyes that seemed to be home to violence itself. He was an inch or two shorter than her, but she was wearing heels, but he was probably taller than her by an inch while she was barefoot.

She didn't have very much time to look at him, because as soon as she turned, Bella was punched in the face. Her eyes fluttered closed and she dropped to the ground.

Read: https://www.tumblr.com/bubblesacc/740964840708980736/the-accords-reader-insert-ver?source=share

For reader-insert version :)

#diabolik lovers x reader #shu sakamaki x reader #reiji sakamaki x reader #ayato sakamaki x reader #kanato x reader #laito x reader #subaru x reader

20 notes · View notes

tazdrgaoneyetagain · 8 months

Text

NEW PINNED POST FINALLY. i canNOT deal with looking at the outdated one much longer so its new pinned time!

HELLAO! i go by taz, jevil, or if youre feeling sillay, you can call me drgaone! or just dragon. if youre normal

☆ he/it/bark, transmasc and pan!

☆ furry and therian (black wolfdog), selfshipper!!!1!1!

☆ not whatsoever diagnosed but everyone who talks to me agrees theres some divergent on that neuro

☆ taken and very loud about it i love them sm.

☆ theoretical cannibal. key word THEORETICAL.

《FANDOMS :3333》

◇ wings of fire

◇ pjsk/vocaloid

◇ fnaf, specifically the dcas

◇ hfjone

◇ the walten files

◇ chonny's charming chaos compendium and the other jashlings (who up jashing they chonny rn) (this is my biggest hyperfixation yet)

◇ regretevator its birds fault

◇ kinitopet!!!!

《F/OS !!》

♡ sun (five nights at freddys, romantic f/o)

♡ six-claws (wings of fire, father f/o)

♡ sayori (doki doki literature club, romantic f/o)

♡ shadow bonnie (five nights at freddys, platonic f/o)

♡ the heart acoustic (cccc, platonic f/o)

《TAGSSSS》

♧ drgaone roars -> og posts

♧ drgaone snarls -> asks and answers

♧ tax evasion -> art tag! i used this one across all my past blogs (@taz-drgaone, and the one i had to deactivate womp womp) so going through a tag for a literal felony is fucking flooded with fruity dragons. in retrospect i should have made it drgaone draws

♧ manatee the silly! -> manatee my blorbo my silly. also used across all blogs but you dont have to scroll past political shit

♧ drgaone scrawls -> poetry n fanfic !!!!!!!!!

♧ saveforlater -> imagine me curled up on a pile of these posts like a sleeping dragon atop its horde of treasures

♧ holy shit the images are moving -> animations i post

《MORE INFO I GUESS》

♤ feel free to send asks requests dms whateva!!!1! i thrive off interaction its my fucking lifeblood

♤ ask about my ocs.

♤ my discord is assignedmuckaatblucka PLEASE ADD ME.

♤ tazzerjevil on ao3!!! read my fics boy. currently workinf on a jashling chatfic im v proud of

BASIC DNI SHIT! pls if ur a jackass do Not follow. also anyone against cannibalism, transspecies people (not one myself but its such a cool concept), mspec lesbians, xenos or neos. also if youre gonna tag me in a reblog chain plEASE dont do one of those ones where it says "tag [insert number of people]" i panic and have no clue who ta tag,,, also no reblog bait please!

OKAY GO LOOK AT MY SHIT HAVE FUN!!!!!! yes i changed this. slay

#drgaone roars #pinned post #the old one was bugging me so here ya go !!#update i edited it. cos i kept having to add things

20 notes · View notes

weknowthend · 7 months

Text

this is so crazy when you think about it like😭 boleyn in toronto when?

#six the musical #six chaos slay #courtney mack #courtney mack parr my beloved #courtney “mother mack

21 notes · View notes

bone-evidence · 9 months

Text

Hello all! This is the first fic I'm posting here, called Concerning Prussians! Also on ao3 under the same name :D

Set in Nationverse in the 90's, human and nation names used

A sleepless Prussia finds himself in the guest bedroom of his home, where Canada is also still awake. A late-night chat turns into possibly the sweetest way to fall asleep.

The stuccoed ceiling above Prussia’s head held infinite shapes he was quite bored of finding. Sleep had never come easy to the nation, even before the half-century of torture at the hands of Russia. His incredibly sharp memory had a bad habit of bringing up past traumas and memories as soon as the lights were out. Some he could dismiss easily. Silly mistakes he’d made as a child nearly five hundred years ago were simply passing thoughts. Memories of the glorified walk-in closet he’d stayed in at Russia’s house, however, were much fresher. Five years had passed since the Wall fell and the albino was reunited with the rest of the world. Five years was hardly any time to process anything.

Gilbert sighed and sat up in bed. The red glow of his digital clock told him it was just about midnight. His internal clock would wake him up at six in the morning, without fail. The sandman would have to smack him over the head with a brick to get him to sleep at this point. Oh well… maybe a midnight snack was in order. Prussia fumbled through the dark until he found the door and opened it silently. His crimson irises were immediately drawn to the light pouring out from under the guest bedroom door. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one unable to sleep?

The first time Germany forgot to book Canada a hotel was excusable. The Wall had just fallen, after all, and the normally well-organised man was in shambles. Gilbert felt a small measure of relief as the memory of the North American staying for a few days drove away the phantom smell of vodka and blood. Canada had brought his guitar with him then, and had played for Prussia for hours. It was the first time he’d heard music in decades.

Gilbert chuckled to himself as he walked down the hall and further into his memories. He’d been weary of Canada at first. All he knew of the maple-loving nation was the brutality with which he slayed his enemies in both World Wars. Canada’s Hundred Days was a string of defeats the albino would probably never forget. If he’d had the words to protest, he was sure he would never have allowed the man in his home so soon after regaining his freedom. He would have foolishly denied himself the chance to get to know Canada.

The blond was incredible in battle, yes, but he was so much more than his past glories. He was a breath of fresh air among the stale haze of Europe. He was quiet, until one got to know him and his particular brand of chaos a little better. He smelled of sweet syrup and pine trees, and his arms were surprisingly strong. The hug he’d given Prussia before heading back home was a memory the albino often revisited when he needed something to banish the darkness in his mind.

Perhaps Germany had noticed that Canada had walked past his brother’s walls as if they weren’t ever there during that stay. Maybe that’s why, once again, he’d forgotten to book Canada a hotel. Prussia silently thanked his dear relative as he stopped at the guest bedroom door. He knocked on it in three sharp raps, expecting at least some movement in the room. His silver brows furrowed in confusion as he heard no answer. Had the man fallen asleep with the light on? The albino decided to take a peek in the room. No point in waking Matthew up if he were asleep. There was a fridge to raid anyways. Prussia just barely opened the door, enough to see what was going on. He felt his heart skip a beat as he took in the sight.

Canada was, in fact, awake. The chunky black headphones he wore that were connected to his Walkman explained why he hadn’t heard the Prussian knock. His wavy blond hair was tied back in a low ponytail, more than likely so it wouldn’t get in the way as he read his book. Gilbert thought the strands that hadn’t made it into the elastic framed the man’s face almost as nicely as his circular glasses did. He recalled how Canada’s purple eyes had scared him, at first. They reminded him far too much of Russia’s. But he’d quickly learned that there was a kindness in them that was unlike anything he’d seen in anyone else. They were beautiful. Matthew was beautiful.

Prussia steeled his sudden, strange nerve and opened the door all the way. He knocked once more and smirked as the motion finally caught Canada’s attention. The man slipped his headphones off his ears and rested them around his neck in one fluid motion. He kept his music playing, but set his book on his lap to give his full attention to his unexpected guest.

“Oh! Good evening, Prussia. Do you need something?”

The concern with which the blond asked his question brought a softer smile to Gilbert’s lips. He walked into the room and shut the door behind him. Violet eyes followed him curiously as he sat on the edge of the smallish bed. He could just barely hear the sounds of Guns n’ Roses coming from the headphones that sat on Canada’s freckled collarbone. Not that he was looking, of course.

“Can’t sleep. I guess I’m just too awesome for the sandman to visit, hm? He must be afraid of me!”

Canada chuckled and stopped his music. Clearly, the albino intended on staying for at least a little while. “That must be it. I’m sorry didn’t bring my guitar this time, or I would play for you again.”

“Ah, that’s okay. I suppose I’ll survive without hearing you play for another five years. What are you doing still awake, though?”

“Oh, I’m just reading Fellowship of the Ring again. I always have trouble sleeping when I come to Europe.”

“Fellowship of the Ring, huh? Never heard of it.”

Matthew seemed a little surprised by this revelation, but quickly remembered why that might have been the case. The Iron Curtain had been brutally effective in keeping its prisoners isolated, after all.

“The author wrote it after the Great War. This is a terrible summary, but it’s a fantasy series about this Hobbit named Frodo who has to take a ring to a volcano and throw it in to save the world from being completely overrun by evil! It’s my favourite series of all time.”

Gilbert couldn’t help but laugh a little. The premise seemed… childish. Melting a ring couldn’t possibly save the world. “So what you’re telling me is that you’re a huge nerd. Do you play that Dungeons and Dragons game, too?”

Canada’s cheeks flushed pink. He rolled his eyes at his guest, who’s smirk threatened to split his face. “No, I’m not that much of a nerd. It’s a good series though, I promise. I think everyone should try to read it.”

“Not me! I’m way too awesome to be caught reading about Bobbitses and volcanoes, or whatever.”

“You’re not even going to give it a chance?”

“Nein. You can stick with your dorky literature, I’ll keep reading…. Er, something else. Something way cooler!”

“Hm. I didn’t want to have to resort to this, but you’ve left me with no choice. I have a fact about the author, Tolkien, that might interest you.”

“I’m listening. Though I don’t know what could possibly interest me enough to get me to read this book.”

The blond leaned a little closer with a smirk of his own, fully aware that this little tidbit of information was an ace in the hole. “Tolkien was from England. But, I’ve heard that his family was from Kreuzberg in East Prussia.”

Gilbert sat in stunned silence for a few moments, before he finally sighed and accepted defeat. He almost felt obligated to read the works of someone who’s family came from his formerly great nation. Even if the subject matter sounded a little silly. “...Alright, move over. If you’re going to drag me kicking and screaming into your weird nerd story, the least you can do is flip the pages for me.”

Canada was more than happy to make room for the Prussian to sit beside him. He set his Walkman and headphones on the nightstand while his new reading buddy got comfortable under the blankets. “Just let me know when I can turn the page.”

It quickly became obvious that Prussia was struggling with the reading material. He leaned closer to get a better look at the words on the page and try to sound them out in his head. Whole sections had to be reread as he tried so hard to understand what was written. As such, the pace was painfully slow for Matthew. They got about five pages in before the blond set the book down and looked at the frustrated albino.

“Having some trouble?”

“Ja. It’s not my fault English is a stupid language when it’s written, though.”

“...Do you want me to read to you?”

Gilbert searched the taller one’s face for any hint of pity or malice. Instead, he found the gentle, kind eyes that had a knack for tearing down his walls. There were no expectations behind the question. Just a quiet desire to share a story that clearly meant a lot to Canada. Prussia nodded, and the soft smile he received in return found itself a loving home in his long memory.

“Get comfortable, then.”

Nothing would be more comfortable than to be in Matthew’s arms. Gilbert slid down enough to rest his head over the man’s heart. He wrapped his arm around the blond’s waist, and tangled their legs together. Crimson eyes closed with a sigh of contentment as, at last, he felt strong arms wrap around him once more. He felt the corner of the book on his hip and simply snuggled in closer. Canada smelled like pine trees and maple syrup. His embrace felt like a heaven Prussia didn’t think he would be allowed into. His voice, as he started reading, was a gentle river that carried the albino far from the troubles of the world and into the land of Middle Earth.

Gilbert found himself quite invested in the tale of Frodo. The emotion with which he was told the story truly made it come to life in his imagination. Canada’s voice had an almost musical quality to it that lent itself well to describing the fantastic landscapes and peoples of Tolkien’s world. The heart he put into every syllable was not lost on the albino in his arms. As he listened, Prussia came to realise that the summary he’d been given earlier was indeed terrible. This wasn’t just a story about Frodo, or the ring, or even the quest to save the world. This was a story about hope. Hope in the face of impossible odds, hope for a future that seemed so desperately far away. Prussia found it quite easy to relate.

The rumble of Matthew’s voice in his chest proved an effective lullaby for Gilbert. He tried so hard to stay awake, to hear how the Battle for Helm’s Deep would turn out. But the hour was late, and the sandman had arrived at last. The last thing he remembered before sleep claimed him was a softly whispered wish for sweet dreams from Canada.

In the morning, Germany was quite confused to see his brother’s room both open and empty. His confusion was alleviated as he opened the other bedroom door to check on the guest. He found Prussia and Canada still in each other’s arms, fast asleep, and a book on the bed beside them. Neither stirred as Germany quietly closed the door to give them a little more time to rest. The tall man smiled softly to himself as he made his way downstairs to start breakfast. His brother looked so content, so… safe, in Canada’s arms. Perhaps forgetting to book Matthew a hotel was something Germany would have to remember to do more often.

#prucan #hws canada #hws prussia #im so nervous posting this but here we go

22 notes · View notes

pleuvoire · 1 year

Text

ok here are my opinions on some common patterns in conway’s game of life that i am always seeing pop up in my experiments

1. blinker

i do not like these very much. they are distracting when i see them littered around a still life and if i have ash of some kind i want to fuck with i usually just put dots on either side to stabilize them into a tub so their movement will stop catching my eye

2. traffic light

this is just an arrangement of blinkers so you can imagine my feelings. often a pattern will do something very pretty with fourfold symmetry but then just stabilize into one of these which is disappointing cause it’s the most boring constellation result you can get. i think traffic lights should be a less common result in this thing :/

3. honey farm

not the most interesting but has its own aesthetic qualities, it looks like a decorative embroidery pattern, so i support it and i’m like omg hi it’s a honey farm when they show up. and the process to generate one, while modest and not as fancy as some other formations like the pi heptomino, is still really pretty and often provides a gorgeous bit of symmetry among the chaos (for an example of what it looks like go to https://playgameoflife.com/ and make a line exactly seven squares long and press start). she is like a simple homespun beauty to me

4. glider

MY DEAR LITTLE FRIENDS. i just made a post about it but they are like animals to me. just look at it. just look at it! i’m so pleased that they are so commonly generated by random processes because they are so cute and my friends. when they pop up inside a bunch of stuff going on i am rooting for them to escape without any fatal collisions and continue to make their way into the great unknown. they are not the only spaceship (shape that moves itself across the grid indefinitely) but they are by far the simplest, most common, and above all the most endearing

5. pi heptomino

UGH I LOVE YOU. YOUR INTRICATE SYMMETRICAL BEAUTY IS MATCHED ONLY BY HOW EASY IT IS TO RANDOMLY GENERATE YOU SO I AM OFTEN GREETED BY YOUR ICONIC FIRST FEW STAGES BEAUTIFULLY BLOSSOMING FROM WITHIN CHAOS. she’s everything she is the moment. every way she interacts with her surroundings is going to look good as well. we have no choice but to stan. there is a beautiful tragedy in the way she generates a copy of herself (you can see in the animation before it gets prematurely cut off) but that copy will eventually be destroyed by all the other stuff unless you hassle the exhaust with blocks. tragic. but lots of potential applications for spaceship building!

6. line of six spark

(i can’t find a good gif so here’s a link to the wiki with an animation of it) if you’re going to go out do it in style. nothing special, a modest little thing, but it’s fun and unique to look at. i always like to see one of these appearing in my soups

7. phi spark

(same as above) it’s a lot like the line of six spark but twice as awesome because it REMINDS ME OF MY DEAR FRIEND TAKUMI :D and the distinctive ɸ shape is just so visually pleasing to suddenly see for an instant

8. r pentomino

kinda mixed feelings. on the one hand, her absolute slay in taking over a THOUSAND generations to stabilize (this gif is only a brief snapshot) after coming from that one little shape. on the other hand, i’m too impatient to wait that long. also i resent her taking the title of most commonly occurring methuselah (pattern that originates from a small seed but lasts a long time before stabilizing) from my lovely girlfriend the pi heptomino. also she’s not symmetrical so it’s not as nice to look at :/ which also means i can’t actually recognize any of these supposed common occurrences because there aren’t distinctive patterns for me to notice. oh well. nothing personal

9. toad

not huge on my radar compared to some of these others but the name makes it so cute, the way it looks is a lot more interesting despite its simplicity than my enemy the blinker, and it’s not as common a result so i when i get it i’m like omg it’s a toad :D also i hear they’re very useful in lots of spaceships and machines and stuff

ok that concludes my post about my thoughts on some common naturally occurring patterns from conway’s game of life that i am always seeing in my random soups. next i might do a post on some patterns that don’t occur naturally so much and that you have to manually input to see happen. if you actually read this far congratulations and thank you

#flashing

52 notes · View notes

its-toasted · 10 months

Text

no one ever cares

what do you call a homie with no homeboy. a shape all root no fruit. an asian who aches like american. an angle that's eking unbearably. there must be a word, for all this. there must be some phrase i once heard that would fit like a slipper. i try sub-liminal space, sub-urban malaise, or swerve in the lane like. i set origami swans in the trash. i send estuary flutter for a cloud: 'twas a hot summer day when i laid face-down in the foyer and mother shuffled by. smoothly in her off-white muffinflops, blockysocks, whatever you usually call 'em. says some shit like "go and get a chair." i mishear, of course, like it's force of habit, so chaos ensues. you wouldn't believe how quick we get so stray. anyway she's wailing on my brittle little membrane, telling me i'm bad, telling me i'm dark, telling me an ark didn't slay through the storm so i'd waste all the light. swear i must've read genesis a dozen different times and never felt that holy in the veins, or buzzing in the blood. boy from brockhampton said it shaped his whole perspective but it was bull. and i would've built the world on a sunday, and spent the first six fucking up the players you feel. gripping with it well that since the beginning, we should've been birds. i'll never be uncertain.

#writings

18 notes · View notes

sezja · 1 year

Text

Febuwhump Day 28: "You're Safe Now" Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Characters/Ship: Sanson Smyth/Guydelot Thildonnet, Original Characters Triggers/Content warnings:

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen

Guydelot seethes with futile anger - anger, and terror.

He can't see where they're taking him: they'd hauled him into a covered cart just after sunset, with no regard for his shattered hands, and without sparing a word of explanation for where they might be going - after all, why waste words on the dead? He saw only that they'd donned the uniforms and weapons of the former Ala Mhigan Resistance, lest anyone should catch sight of them as they do their bloody work.

They speak quietly around him as they walk, their voices muffled by the tarp that conceals him. If he could just hear what the bastards were saying...

They'd left Astarnaix behind; from what little he could gather of their plot, the plan is for him to follow after them to see the job done - and perhaps to report the murder to the proper authorities. Being a respectable, well-known old Gridanian fellow, his word might well carry some weight with the right people... the right people who won't blink twice when it turns out a Gridanian bard was slain by Ala Mhigans.

What'll Sanson make of it, he wonders?

What he wouldn't give to see Sanson again before...

He closes his eyes, wincing with every bump the cart trundles over. He wishes they'd at least taken the damned muzzle off, if they're just going to slay him out of hand anyhow; he's not sure he even remembers how to sing after three days with the miserable thing clamped around his jaw. And with the state his hands are in! Even if he had his harp - never mind his bow - it'd be useless to him. It's all just spite, is all it is. The hateful bastards think Ala Mhigans are cruel, but it's not Ala Mhigans who hatched this scheme, is it?

At least Sanson didn't go through this. Nourval'd been practically gentle by comparison. And that's a blessing of sorts, isn't it? If Sanson'd had to go through this, then... then...

Then I'd've strangled Nourval with my own bloody hands, and damn Vainchelon's wish for peace.

The cart hits a particularly fierce bump, and Guydelot swears loudly - or would, were he not muzzled - as his hands bounce against the floor of the cart. Someone whacks the cart with what may very well be a lance. Guydelot retaliates by screaming around the muzzle once more. After all, he's nearly a dead man. What more can they do to him?

There's a liberty, of sorts, in knowing he's being hauled off to his death.

He supposes there's some slim chance he might be rescued. Mayhap the Warrior of Light herself is charging this way even now... or maybe Sanson's uncovered the whole convoluted scheme, and is rushing to his rescue. But wouldn't Sanson be just as likely to try to do it all the right way; go through all the proper channels? Just like Guydelot himself had tried to do, waiting on the Adders to decide what to do about Nourval. And look how that worked out.

"Here." They whip the cover off of the cart, and unceremoniously dump the bard onto the damp grass. He rolls, his vision going white-hot with pain; he can't quite make out where they've taken him. Not that it matters.

They bind him again. Not that that matters, either; he's in no state to attempt an escape.

And then they wait.

And wait.

He dozes off, all the fear and pain collapsing in on him at once. Guydelot half-expects never to wake again - half-hopes it'll be the case. What better way to go than in his sleep, eh?

Mayhap he'll dream of Sanson.

He wakes, instead, to the sound of shouting.

Slowly, groggily, he opens his eyes - surely his captors wouldn't go shouting like that, would they? Stupid of them, trying to keep things quiet as they are. But there's shouting, swearing, chaos. Weapons drawn. Astarnaix's voice rises above the madness; seems he showed up while Guydelot was getting his beauty sleep-

And then-

"Astarnaix, you will stand down!"

Matron's sweet tits, he knows that voice. Guydelot's heart leaps a thousand malms into the air. Sanson, gods, Sanson... his eyes burn with tears, but he blinks them away furiously, desperate for a sight of the man he loves.

And what a sight he is! Eyes blazing, lance already red with blood. Sanson's wasted no time dispatching Astarnaix's men; they litter the grass, dead or dying. And Liautroix's there, too, arrow nocked and ready - so Sanson dragged the unit into this! Guydelot could laugh. Or cry. Or both. Gods, and Astarnaix looks a bloody mess, too; that's not Sanson's doing, surely.

The old bastard stands between them, breathing hard. "You will not stand between me and my life's mission, boy," he declares, lance drawn. "Between me and my family's life mission!"

"You've made a mistake, then," Sanson replies, a chill in his voice. "Because you stand between me and the man I love."

It's over fast, after that.

Guydelot misses the duel; he's distracted by Liautroix, darting around while Astarnaix is distracted, to remove his bonds. He hisses through his teeth at the sight of Guydelot's hands, but murmurs something about a healer. Something about everything being alright. Something...

All Guydelot knows, as the straps on the wretched muzzle come away and the hellish device is removed from his mouth, all that comes tumbling out of his mouth is Sanson's name, over and over, like a prayer.

And when Astarnaix falls to the ground, bleeding from a dozen wounds, his prayer is answered.

"Guydelot," Sanson whispers, kneeling beside him. It's all Guydelot can do to keep himself from climbing into the man's lap, the better to feel the protection of his arms. "Guydelot, you're safe now-"

"Sanson," he manages, choked. Liautroix makes a discreet retreat, calling to someone in the distance. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters but the man beside him, the man who came to his rescue against all odds. Against all sense. Gods, what must he have done to be here? "Sanson," he repeats. Now that his tongue is freed, he can't seem to say anything else.

"Shh," Sanson replies, cradling the bard's face between his hands, gently tracing the red, raw lines where the muzzle had bitten into his skin with his thumbs. "It's over now; that's all that matters."

Someone else arrives. Lariat? Aye, and another, a woman Guydelot doesn't recognize, but he knows a conjurer when he sees one.

She settles beside him. "Liautroix says his hands are badly wounded," she says, and peers at the offending - offended - appendages. "Broken. I can ease the pain, but we'll need to see the bones set before any proper healing can be done."

Sanson lets Guydelot lean against him, weary. The bard closes his eyes as the conjurer goes to work, doing as she promised: the pain eases, leaving behind only a dull ache. Sanson's fingers slide gently through his hair, slow and soothing.

Part of him is sure he's dreaming - that he has indeed been killed while he slept, and this is all a dream his dying mind is fabricating.

"Nourval?" Sanson's voice is quiet. Guydelot stirs at the name, but settles as Sanson rubs his neck.

The healer hesitates. "He... lives, for now. He, too, will need further care. We must return him to Gridania as soon as possible." She stands. "This one, too. The hands may be the worst of his injuries, but he's been treated badly: I must insist on a more thorough examination."

"You'll not hear me argue." Sanson's voice hardens. "Do what you can for Astarnaix, as well."

Guydelot does stir, then. "Chief?"

"Nophica as my witness," Sanson says, colder than Guydelot's ever heard it. "That man will stand trial for this."

#sanson smyth #guydelot thildonnet #my writing #febuwhump #febuwhump2023 #febuwhumpday28 #...OKAY SO THIS IS NOT. ACTUALLY THE END AS IT TURNS OUT?#i think there'll be an epilogue/denouement installment #but this concludes the whump portion of the proceedings

32 notes · View notes