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circinuus · 1 year

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L'APPEL DU VIDE

beast! dazai x reader. 1.3k words

"When they found him, he was dead, his body twisted with the rigor mortis."

[first-person pov; unreliable narrator; mentions about suicide and corpses; reader is whipped for our local crime org boss but not in a good way]

When I was young, when youth had surged in my veins and hot blood had rushed along my cheeks, I met a peculiar man.

He was of every sense but ordinary. A ringleader of a colossal underground organization, equipped with an age not far from my green, half-ripe own. I am sure you'd known about him, perhaps more than I do.

Dazai Osamu was an enigma, and this is my last entry; a story about how I had been completely, perfectly consumed by his whole being.

"Have you heard about the rumors?"

Lowly insects, parasites, and cronies like me fear the unknown. That was the repugnant truth. At a point, we started to forget that he too, was of blood and flesh, not unlike ourselves. But it was too late by then. Our fear had dehumanized him, reduced him into a macabre myth. Not many eyes have bear witness to his figure, yet words about his uncanny competence and the horrors he commands ring like folklore passed down to generations.

"What rumors?"

"That guy who jabbered about the previous boss' death, they found his corpse just now."

Oh, that's right. The sad corpse.

Terribly mangled and dysmorphic, with broken limbs and torso. When I arrived, it no longer depicted a human. From the crevices of those grotesque bends were crimson liquid and bodily waste, seeping out like a fish being gutted. The putrid scent remained even on my bed and dining table.

"Shit. You better watch your mouth. That corpse could've been us at any time."

How terrible. The macabre ghost our fear created was.

And how curious, I thought, for such a living nightmare managed to haunt our mind and life; killing us with his silent bites and coerced us into committing suicide with self-destructive paranoia.

Truly, how terrible, how curious, yet how strikingly beautiful.

Dazai Osamu was an enigma, and I had been completely, utterly consumed by his whole being.

It was a week after that accident—if my memory served. It had betrayed me a lot in the past, and a doctor I knew mentioned how memories are all stack the deck; all tailored to our favor—when I was called for the boss's office.

"For what?" I tried to ask, but received only a scoff from my supervisor. “-If I may know, sir," I added. I knew he was not a horrible man, but my supervisor was not an individual of patience. He offered me nothing but a silent nudge to the boss' door. Like guiding a lamb to the slaughter, a virgin sacrifice to the altar.

I bled that day, I bled myself. Through my chapped lips that I've bitten hard, and through my fingers which dry skin ruptured raw by my unsolicited fidgets.

Out of uncertainty or cowardice, my memory fails to serve me. But I recall with great vividness how everything melted away to oblivion after that sturdy door opened before my eyes. What lay beyond was someone—something so incongruously beautiful, misplacedly sublime.

In that instance, I have realized that I am truly an abominable individual. On that day, I finally understood Basil's infatuation with his muse. Dazai Osamu was a beautiful man, and suddenly I bled for utter fascination rather than unfiltered fear.

My sentiment for this extraordinary man has nothing but become more defined, ever since.

His pale, almost translucent skin consumed my waking days, the flutter of his eyelashes when his eyes blink haunted my dreams, and the curl of his dark hair against the evening lights strayed me away from reality.

Like a sailor to a siren, like a lulling river that drowned the fool; Dazai Osamu was an enigma, and I was wholly enraptured.

I had been bewitched by the moments he kept me by my side, ever since. Fascinated by the moments where he slips up soft vulnerability. Spellbound by the moments he confide in my warmth and touch to soothe the horrors of earth's hell he faced and the pain he endured for a man who doesn't even know his name. Entranced by the moments he morphs to the horror he always has been, with chilling gazes and commanding words enough to shadow the times that reminds everyone that he is of flesh and blood. Beguiled by the moments he disregards me not soon after, as if he forgot I exist.

He was very cruel. But I did not despise him.

Dazai Osamu was cruel. But he was terribly, enchantingly melancholic. Like a dead man forced to be alive for a deed he hasn't finished. Like he was longing, waiting for the sweet mercy of his quietus. I was unable to despise him.

'Even so, what if I attempt to kill him?' under Yokohama's sky—which is too blue, too free. It never sits well with me—I received a call from the void.

'What then?' it continued beckoning. Will his delicate lips curl up into a beautiful, grateful smile? or will it wail and twist into ugly sobs of pain, anger, and fear? Will his empty, soulless mortal vessel stay as beautiful as the tragic beauty he is? or will it turn into another unimportant, unsightly corpse?

"Just now, you're thinking about killing me, weren't you?"

His words chased away the void, like a cold splash on a freezing morning. I was stunned into a fear-coated silence.

"Oh (Name), sweet (Name)," he laughed. It flows like silken honey and suddenly, I was once again drowned in his existence.

"Do you hate me?"

"No, sir," I said the truth.

"Really?"

"Yes, sir," I said the truth.

"Strange," he put a hand on his lower lip—a gesture that I find oddly fitting. "And you still want to see me dead, it seems.”

I stayed silent.

A sick, twisted feeling had emerged. If he had dropped dead at that moment, right there on the edge of the skyscraper, that would be all right. Fine, in fact.

(A sick, twisted feeling had emerged. if I had dropped dead at that moment, right there on the edge of the skyscraper, that would be all right. Fine, in fact.)

"How curious. You never fail to intrigue me."

(The thought scared me.)

I didn’t remember a lot after that day. The next few weeks were a shapeless blur of bullets, guns, and deaths.

Although on a cloudy Friday, I remember seeing hot blood pooling down like melted ruby.

It was unyielding. Seeping and seeping and seeping and it didn’t stop.

I was soaked and damp. His skin was warm as it was stone cold.

No, he wasn’t dead, he wasn’t dead. So I kneeled, gather what was left of him in my arms, and brought his chest to mine.

Viscous, fresh blood continued to gather on my lap, on my tie, on my fingers. The corpse engulfed me with his being, in every way possible. The corpse wasn’t dead, not yet, not yet. So I looked at his face, and pressed my cold beretta against his heart.

By then I realize, in the face of death I saw a soft smile instead of the ugly cries of fear and pain. Ah! So beautiful even surrounded by the crimson bloom of blood, pooling like a downpour along the concrete; limbs mangled and dysmorphic.

Would I be as beautiful, I wonder?

Two sounds of sharp firearms cut the air. It didn't take long for unfortunate witnesses to come and see the tragedy. It didn’t take long for two young men to look down with morbid from the skyscraper above. And it didn’t take long for my hatted supervisor to wake from oblivion. But it was too late by then.

When they found us, we were already dead, our bodies twisted with the rigor mortis.

(Oh, how we looked at so peace like this. How can it possibly scare me?)

fun fact! this was inspired by junji ito's tomie and stephen king's memory, more or less. and i just wanted to say: i'm sorry dazai you'll be forever famous. i'll write a fluff for you someday

♡ @ashthemadwriter

#bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #bungou stray dogs beast

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girlystories · 7 months

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L'appel du vide (The call of the void)

— pairings: Henry Bowers + Patrick Hockstetter x female/daughter of a cop/new student reader

Summary: after your parents divorce (because your mom is kinda crazy) you move to your dads hometown, back to Derry, and your cousin richie. Additional warnings: swearing, depictions of child abuse. Words: 3.5k

previous part here

Chapter 3: Everywhere

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑'𝐒 front windows were rolled down, filling it once again with a satisfying breeze. The tired girl resisted the urge to lay her legs on the dashboard, knowing her dad wouldn't let that slide. He had just finished his pack, holding his last cigarette while driving.

[Name]'s bored eyes stared at the road. "Whose idea was it to have a barbecue at fall?"

Her dad shook his head. "Come on. Why do you have to be so down in the dumps all the time?"

"What does that even mean?"

"Just try and act happy when we arrive. It's the least you can do."

She scratched above her eye, in an effort to calm herself. It was like he viewed her as a nuisance. "Why did you want me to come with you in the first place? Don't you want to catch up with your old friend alone?", she took off her shoes and wrapped her arms around her knees, before adding, "since I bother you so much."

He sighed irritably at the comment, glancing at her. "Now why do you have to do that? You know that's not what I meant."

She stayed silent for a moment, still looking out the window. "So who is this friend?"

He didn't answer at first, wanting to resolve the small argument that began since this morning but also not wanting to bother at the moment as well. "He's a colleague of mine and an old classmate."

She leaned forward and turned the music up from the radio but her dad turned it off right after.

"[Name]," he said sternly. "Please."

She forced herself to look at him, groaning under her breath.

"I don't want to argue with you. I just want to adjust here after what happened...", he sighed. "I know you need it too."

[Name]'s eyes softened when she noticed his expression. She didn't know exactly why she woke up on the wrong side of the bed that day. Maybe it was because of the new environment or maybe the sudden lack of direction.

"Yeah, I guess so..."

They didn't say much on the rest of the ride, only asking why Richie and her uncles didn't come with them, which was answered by a rather half-assed excuse from Richie that he'd hang out with his friends.

She noticed that whoever's house they were going to was just out of Derry, being more noticeable by the sudden switch to a dirt road. She looked confused behind her, seeing the town fade a little in the distance. Trees passed them as they drove towards a rather large house. What was more noticeable was the farm house and the variety of animals roaming around. She didn't question it however, and got out the car just as they came to a stop.

She held a plastic container with some homade brownies for a simple yet enjoyable gift. They couldn't go there empty handed, so last night instead of doing nothing she thought it'd be a great idea to make a good first impression.

She took her time looking around the place, seeing the chickens and cows eating the grass. As she looked over at the house she felt an unnerving aura from it, and she hoped she was just being stupidly paranoid. It wasn't at all inviting in a way she couldn't describe. She ran after her dad when she noticed she was left behind.

She hid slightly behind him as he knocked the door. It was opened after a few moments by a middle-aged man.

"[Father name]," he said enthusiastically, greeting the both inside as he moved to the side. "Come on in."

The house was rather... glum and dark, looking completely different from the white appearance it had from outside, but it still had that stange vibe. The wall's cracks somehow revealed a hidden story behind it, as well at the holes that weren't as apparent behind the ripped wallpaper. She didn't want to judge in any way, but by the looks of the way someone "tidied" the place made it seem that no woman lived there, or set foot in that building to be exact.

"Sir, we've bring you some brownies. I hope you like them," [Name] said.

It was as if he hadn't noticed her at first by the surprised look on his face. "That's kind of you. You must be [Name], right?"

She nodded. "That's me."

"This is my daughter I told you about," her dad said proudly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "[Name], this is Butch. We were inseparable during our school years."

Butch laughed. "I have to tell you stories during that time. That reminds me, I think I remember you," he told her.

"You do?"

"Yeah, when you were about this tall," he said laughing, depicting a much shorter [Name] with his palm. "I can't believe you've grown so much. You're like a flower that has just bloomed. So beautifully too."

The smile he had when he said that ran a chill down her spine and she chuckled nervously. "Thank you."

His smile faded suddenly. "[Father name]. The thing is that I don't believe today is a good day for barbecue."

The said man rose a brow. "Oh? Why's that?"

He groaned in annoyance as he recalled something. "My stupid son forgot we have guests today and didn't prepare the meat. I should've known. He never does anything right."

"It's alright, I don't mind. We could just go out and eat somewhere in town. I'm sure your son must have been busy."

"Thanks for being understanding," he turned his attention back at [Name]. "Could you go call my son from upstairs? I don't know what's taking him so damn long."

"Sure. Um, where do I put this?", she asked and motioned at the brownies still in her hands.

"I'll take that," he did just as he said, "now go and tell him if he doesn't get down right now I'll have to drag him myself."

She didn't question it and made her way to the second floor. She felt kind of bad for the guy, but she didn't want to jump into any conclusions. As she passed the living room – which was full of empty beer bottles that weren't hidden well – she held back the need to gag at the terrible smell of nicotine.

Upstairs, she passed the bathroom and stopped at what she assumed was the guy's bedroom. She knocked the door, "hey, your dad said to come downstairs."

No answer. A few seconds passed and she knocked again.

"We're going out to eat. I don't know where but I hope somewhere good," she added jokingly. Still no answer. She hesitantly turned the handle, opening it and stepping inside. "Are you sleeping or something?"

It didn't take her long to realize the room was empty. Well, except the countless thrown clothes on the floor. The bed was unmade, but no one was laying on it. She rubbed the back of her head, confused.

She peeked her head out the door and yelled out: "He's not here!"

"What? Where the hell is that–", Butch's yell came from downstairs, continuing with a murmur while [Name] took a look around.

She approached the room, which had posters of Metallica, Megadeath and other metal bands she didn't know of, and some of women wearing inappropriate clothes in various poses, making anyone question the limit of the flexibility of the common person. There were some pictures on the selves, and upon inspection, as she grabbed one, was a group of young boys – four to be exact, having toothy grins on their faces. All except one, who instead showed the smallest smile, but not in a shy way as one might believe. She was about to look at another picture but another sound make her stop.

A loud snarky voice came from downstairs after the snap of someone shoving the door open, though not a yell but still loud. Quickly and loudly the person walked upstairs, which made [Name] almost jump by the speed when he barreled towards the room, only stopping when she was seen standing in the center. They were clearly hot happy with their visitors.

The boy's surprised expression lasted for a split second when his brows furrowed deeply, and he grabbed the picture frame from her.

"What the hell are you doing here?", he snapped.

Her legs froze on the wooden floor. She knew all well those blue eyes and stupid ashy hair. That goddamn ugly mullet.

It was Henry.

Henry-motherfucking-Bowers.

He was covered in sweat and a brown gooey substance that she hoped in God was only mud. He wore overalls this time that were tucked inside his muddy boots. Underneath he wore a tight black shirt. His sleeves were tucked above his elbows once again, but something told [Name] that this time it wasn't because of his usual fashion choice.

She crossed her arms, in a way not to show her also shocked reaction on how things turned up, "turns out my dad knows yours."

"Great, fucking great," his nostrils flared. "Another new piece of shit in this town."

She scoffed. That was uncalled for. "Oh, poor you. Like I wanted this. I would prefer to stay home rather than spend the day with you."

His anger increased, but instead he held a snakry grin. "Oh? So you already know of me?"

"Word travels fast it seems, Bowers."

She couldn't lie that she didn't keep asking her cousin and Jamie and Evelyn – and slightly Aiden, but he didn't reveal much – about him and the rest of the gang. She found out pretty quick about their acts around town and that her bleach blonde classmate wasn't how he seemed when they first met. During school he didn't dare get in trouble, but later in the afternoon he was a completely different person. The larger guy from the rest was considered the most chill of the group, despite the incident that happened the day before in the cafeteria. She was told that the other two were the most feared, Bowers and Hockstetter, even though she didn't know much about the dark heared member.

Henry's grin widened at the use of his name. He was about to say something when another shout came from downstairs.

"Don't take your sweet fucking time, Henry! We have to go!"

He flinched just meekly that it would take someone to pay close attention to notice it. He grabbed her wrist and forcefully shoved her out of his room, obviously not too happy with her in his property.

"Ow! Hey!", she yelled.

He didn't care about her almost tripping and slammed the door at her face.

In the end it was agreed they'd drive in one car instead of two, which happened to be the one [Name]'s dad was driving, resulting in a rather awkward ride between the duo of teens in the back seat. The fathers didn't seem to notice the hostility around them, chatting and laughing loudly.

She couldn't help but glance at the angsty blonde on her right every now and then, who was glued to the door, looking out the window with crossed arms. He had changed into a pair of jeans and he wore the same denim jacket. He still had that angry look on his face, as if it was set on default while his mullet was way messier than yesterday.

She was humming alongside the lyrics of Fleetwood Mac from the radio when she heard someone call her name.

"Don't be rude. Butch is talking to you," her dad said.

"Oh, sorry... Could you repeat that?", she swore she caught a glimpse of Henry rolling his eyes.

"I was just telling you about the day I met this piece of treasure here," he let out a laugh and patted her dad on the shoulder, who also laughed in response. "One time I was driving home, you know on the dirt road after Witcham Street. Yeah well, I was driving home – I was about twenty-four or five at that time – and I saw a fallen motorcycle – it was a BSA Gold Star I think. Shame, it was a beauty! Well anyway, there was a unconscious man laying next to in, and, of course, I had to check on 'im. How do you know! – it was none other than [Father name] over here!"

The girl's eyes widened, "What?!"

He laughed, smacking his knee, "I will never forget that day. This peace of shit almost gave me a heart attack,"

the other man cleared his throat, interrupting him.

"Sorry, sorry... so anyway, I rushed to the nearest hospital – and as you know we didn't have a hospital back then in Derry, so I had to drive for twenty minutes. In the end he survived with only a broken leg and he was out after five days. Your father here is made out of steel!"

She leaned from her seat, grabbing both front seats to get a closer look at her dad. "Dad, is that true?"

"Yeah, well...", he chuckled awkwardly, rubbing his nose with his thumb. "That's why you're never getting a motorcycle."

She pouted her cheeks. "Why? That's not fair."

He laughed again, this time in a teasing way. "We'll see. That all depends on your grades, missy."

"You wan' a bike? Not really ladylike," Butch informed. As if reminded of his existence [Name] sat back in her seat, her knee accidentally brushing the guy's next to her.

"I'm sure she would be fine, Butch."

The man shrugged, forgetting the subject. "Anyway, good times, good times... Nothing can rewind time unfortunately," he sighed loudly. "Enough about that, I'm sure you remember living in Derry, right? This town is anything but unmemorable."

"Uhm, hmm," she placed her forefinger on her bottom lip. "I guess a little. Maybe middle school... and me playing in the backyard..." A core memory suddenly popped into her mind. Of her mom. But she didn't want to think about her at the moment. "I also remember riding my bike, that was fun."

"That's it? I swear you used to hang with Henry over here," he revealed, looking at his son with a neutral look she couldn't describe. "Don't you remember, son?"

There was a pause of silence that lasted longer than expected. Too long, that she couldn't make out what he was thinking. Now that she thought about it more, she recalled vague memories playing in a large yard. No... it was a farm. She also remembered the animals. She chased after them too. The thing she didn't remember, though, was playing with Henry. She would surely remember a cruel bratty little devil bothering or bullying her. The other thing she remembered was a woman living there with her child that had long blonde hair and a big toothy smile, while the dad was usually absent.

"No," he finally answered, bringing her out of her thoughts.

"Huh," Butch turned his head back forward, "Maybe it was another girl."

The diner was pretty small, but also chill and welcome, not at all fancy. Perfect for hangout between dads, but not so suited for two kids that didn't get on a good start. It wasn't because of the way he bumped onto [Name], but because of what she heard. She wasn't the type of person to believe in rumors, but there must have been a reason everyone fucking hated their guts. They even bullied her cousin. That's a good and reasonable reason. Also his attitude was really getting on her nerves. He could at least act nice, especially in front of his dad.

He was behaving like a bratty kid, seating in the same way he sat in the car: crossed arms and leaned back, manspreading. He was opposite from them and next to his dad.

[Name] leaned her head on her palm, playing with her food, or in better words, her leftover crumbles. The two fathers kept talking and talking, making her zone out on most of it. They kept saying old stories and whatever new stuff happened in Derry.

She glanced over at Henry, who didn't touch his fries one bit. He was glaring at her, which she couldn't take seriously and found honestly pretty funny. She rose a brow, in a way asking him, *what are you looking at?*

This made his breathing quickler, as if trying to calm himself down. Before she did anything to make him any more mad, his dad spoke.

"Eat your food. I didn't pay this for nothing," he said, his tone completely shifted from the one previously.

Henry froze again, not daring to look at him. Instead looking down. After what felt like hours, he said, "I'm going out."

He got up and left quickly, while also not making any eyecontact with anyone. Butch's head followed after him, until he had completely gone out of the diner. The sound of the bell above, then the shut of the door followed. Butch's eyes made chills run down [Name]'s spine.

Butch parted his lips in order to grumble another snarky remark, but [Name] got up suddenly.

"Uh, I, um, gotta go out too," she stumpered out before thinking. "Gotta hang out with some friends from school."

"You made friends already? Who?", her dad asked.

"Uh, Aiden." She said, whoever came to her mind at the moment. "Yeah, sorry. I totally forgot about that."

He sighed, "Okay, fine. You can go."

"Okay, talk to you later," she said and was about to leave, before turning back around. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Butch."

Just as she departed the diner her dad thought out loud, "wait, I thought I told you to cancel any- Ah, what the heck."

She didn't realize it before but it was literally freezing outside. October came like bitch. It was obvious it'd snow any minute now.

She immediately looked around, looking for Henry, which she did, since he kicked a dumpster over, sending all the trash flying. That made her regret her decision instantly.

She stayed outside of the diner, hugging herself and shivering, staring at his back, not knowing what to do.

Then he started leaving.

Fuck.

She quickly followed after, her fast but short legs trying to catch up after him.

What the hell was she doing?

Whatever she thought before clearly didn't really matter to her anymore, but she had to find somewhere warm to go. It'd be super embarrassing to go back at the diner. The two men would probably think she was a loser and got stood up or something.

But what was happening right now would probably also be considered embarrassing, if not more.

Maybe she should just follow him secretly and learn more about his secret wicked ways? Find some sort of secret to blackmail him into not bullying Richie anymore.

Or just go home. Which was kinda far, so she'd probably freeze until then.

Her breathing became heavier from both the cold and her lazy body suddenly having to walk so quickly. Just then Henry stopped. She also stopped. She quickly realized he was at a bus stop and he took out a cigarette, lightning it up and inhaling it. He shifted on one leg and placed a hand inside his denim jacket, shivering ever so lightly. He wasn't dressed properly for the weather, yet he refused to feel any cold. He looked to the right as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.

It took her a minute to realize he had noticed her.

Shit.

"The fuck you lookin' at?"

She didn't know what else to do but to walk up to him, awkwardly sitting down at the wooden seat.

"Oh, hi," she tried to act casual, but obviously failing. "Cold weather we're having, huh."

"Are you fucked, Trashmouth no. 2?"

"Jeez, why are you always so fucking angry?"

"None of your fucking business, Missy," he snapped, using the nickname her father gave her, but sounding it way differently. "Why the hell did you follow me, you weirdo. Are you that pathetic you follow random people around just so they would talk to you?"

"No... I was just bored," she shrugged, her leg bouncing nervously. "Are you that egotistical, Bowers?"

And she used his name again.

If it were another day he'd definitely mess with her in a more fucked up way, she wouldn't dare approach him ever again, but now he wasn't really feeling it.

"Then why not just ask your old man to give you a ride home? Would make this shit all easier for me"

"Huh? Why?"

He threw his cigarette at the concrete, stepping on it with his heel.

"'Cuz I'm bored out my fuckin' mind, that's why. I wanna go back at the farm."

"Why not ask your dad for a ride then?", she placed her hands inside her pockets as a wind went past them.

He shot her a glare, yet said nothing. After a few minutes she thought to say something. Unfortunately, whatever she chose upon was too late as a bus had stopped.

Henry got on in without saying a word. Moments later she sat the alone, shivering, confused and with regret. She shouldn't have left the stupid diner.

She walked back home. Fortunately, she had brought her keys with her.

#:ssnowville #:snowville #[🌸]#it fanfiction #it x reader #bowers gang #bowers gang x reader #henry bowers x reader #patrick hocksetter x reader #henry bowers #patrick hockstetter #Spotify

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kiigan · 2 months

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Dashgame: Never Have I Ever !

RULES: Your Muse and all the Muses they interact with are in a pub somewhere across Space, Dimension and Time. Answer the first 'Never Have I Ever' In Character. At the end of that, let your Muse ask a new ‘Never Have I Ever’ question for the tagged people to answer themself. After those tagged people answered your prompt, they state their own 'Never Have I Ever' and tag you back along with other Muses. Rinse, lather, repeat. original by @treasurechestrpmemes

“ Never have I ever fantasized about murder. ”

ㅤGo out for drinks with Hidan, they said. It will be fun, they said, You won't be semi-overtly discussing homicide, they said. ...Or, well. Nobody said that, certainly not the last part, yet the point being: Itachi finds his eyes widening slightly in bewilderment.

ㅤIn all fairness, and in the world and times we live in, hyperbolic statements come too easily. I literally [this and that]; Itachi also the one person who deadpans, no, you did not literally did that, you don't know what literally means, stop using that word in every sentence. A whole different story for a whole other day, or perhaps for after a few more shots.

Anyway.

«Does it count when we're stuck in traffic and wishing to nuke the whole avenue?»

ㅤBecause, then, yes, he's guilty as charged. As possibly is every other human being who ever met the tragedy that is rush hour at evening. Now, beyond that... there's also stuff like spam emails, books that get printed with typos in the text, autocorrect in chatboxes that was never asked for. And who never thought about a few political leaders of some of the most influential countries and believed this world would be better off without them?

ㅤAnd... there's the sheer, raw enticement of the act when considered in the absence of moral values, Itachi supposes. The striking realization that humans are such fragile creatures, that it's so remarkably easy to make the transition from alive to dead. All it takes is a cut in the right spot, or a few grams of certain substances, or a few seconds of oxygen deprivation. It's as topic as terrifying as it is fascinating. L'appel du vide. Taken together, he reckons it's justification enough to take the glass and drain it in one go.

And now to give back.

«Never have I ever had an unrequited crush.»

tagged by: @zealctry ♡ tagging: if you're reading this you're tagged by default~ also if anyone wants to take this as a starter and continue it, feel free to!

#zealctry #[dash games]#[verse] love me to the marrow of my bones #being hidan's friend is an exercise in /why do u gotta be like this/

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alumbianchronicler · 9 months

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Summary:

The world has been saved, and Jon, Martin, and the Fears are gone.

Of course, nothing is really created or destroyed, and the Fears had to go somewhere. It's only logical that upon leaving reality they find themselves in a space Outside. A place that works by dream logic and emotions, where the Fears can take on more knowable forms.

A place where a young half-ghost is set to ascend to an Infinite Throne in less than a decade.

Meanwhile, mysterious tape recordings are being found across the world, those finding them piecing together the story they hold via an online forum, revealing a danger from outside their own reality.

It's a good thing that Outside dimensions don't really exist, and that this is just a complex ARG, right?

#self promo #danny phantom #the magnus archives #crossover fic #dp #tma

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ernestinee · 1 year

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Hier c'était une journée plutôt chouette.

J'ai déposé l'ado tôt le matin à la gare, il y a retrouvé sa troupe de cirque pour passer la journée à Bruxelles. Il est si épanoui avec eux. C'était l'un de ces moments où un parent voit son enfant heureux, confiant, partir faire des trucs qu'il aime avec des gens qui l'apprécient, le moment parfait.

Le moment trop parfait. J'ai eu une petite angoisse. A chaque fois que je le dépose qqpart j'ai un truc qui me rattrape, une sorte de peur que tout s'arrête pile comme ça. Parce qu'il ne faut pas se leurrer, ça arrive. Le bonheur, le bonheur, le bonheur le b. Et bim. Les visages s'éteignent, le regard se vide, les traits se creusent. Bref j'ai eu peur d'être en train de le voir pour la dernière fois et j'ai regretté de ne pas l'avoir serré dans mes bras mais bon y avait ses potes.

Puis j'ai téléphoné à une amie qui déborde un peu en ce moment et ça n'allait pas mieux mais elle était occupée à bosser avec un patient, elle m'a dit qu'elle avait pris l'appel pcq elle avait vu que c'était moi mais qu'elle ne pouvait pas parler maintenant. Du coup j'ai acheté des tulipes pour mettre en secret dans sa salle d'attente.

Puis j'ai rejoint l'homme, on est allés à Bruxelles pcq l'ado avait un spectacle là bas dans l'aprèm. A midi on a mangé avec ma bff du monde et de l'univers et c'était vraiment chouette. Mais bon tu sais comment je suis. Il y a encore eu des moments où j'ai eu peur. C'est chiant parce que ce ne sont pas des peurs déraisonnées je trouve. Ça m'est déjà arrivé, la perte soudaine de quelqu'un.

Il pleuvait mais à Bruxelles ce n'est pas un problème, ça sied bien à la ville, aux pavés, au bruit, aux gens. Par contre pas aux spectacles vu que tous les spectacles extérieurs ont été annulés. Les artistes sont restés à l'intérieur de l'école de cirque et ont fait leurs prestations en interne, juste pour eux. Un peu frustrant mais voilà c'est pas grave. On s'est baladés à trois puis à deux sous la pluie, j'ai fait des photos comme une touriste, j'ai fait des storys en cherchant à chaque fois une chanson qui parle de pluie et du coup depuis hier j'ai la musique de Bambi en tête voilà voilà.

Puis on est repartis, métro et voiture, et un peu plus tard, l'ado a prévenu qu'on pouvait aller le récupérer à la gare. Ses potes sont venus me dire bonjour en faisant les fous parce qu'ils étaient dans l'ambiance et parce que certains sont aussi mes potes parce qu'ils sont dans mon cours de trapèze. Et l'ado était encore plus lumineux que du matin.

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negative-speedforce · 2 months

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🐝

"L'Appel du Vide (The Call of the Void)"

Set five years after the end of Siv's story, she finally decides to face her past and visit the lab in which she was made. The "void" is more metaphorical than literal, representing Siv's fear of the unknown rather than an actual literal void.

#ask revan #oc shit #siv thawne

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khaleesiofalicante · 3 months

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First Son Max Lightwood-Bane and HRH Prince David from L'appel du Vide: The Mavid RWRB Au.

Art by the astonishingly talented @thorndale/@elisial

David Alexander Beauchamp - February 28th. February 29th.

Happiest of birthdays to my dearest David. Despite what it might seem like, I love you with all of my heart, my first son.

A leaked email from the prince to his lover under the cut 👀

Dear Max,

At times of boredom, I find myself envisioning as a character within the pages of a story, my life unfolding like a book. I often ponder over who might be the author of this narrative. Could it be God? Surely, divinity cannot harbor such cruelty.

Perhaps it's the whims of a teenage girl, secluded in her bedroom, her walls adorned with posters. They say teenage girls can be unkind.

I've often mused on how different my life would be if it were scripted by another hand. Perhaps then, it would carry a gentler tone. If I were not cast as a prince, maybe I wouldn't have acquainted myself with such harshness. For that, I've fervently prayed.

Yet, though it may sound like a cliché, everything changed when I met you.

Suddenly, the greatest peril I face is not the trials of my past, but the thought of a future with you. The prospect of not being loved by you keeps me awake at night and shadows me throughout the day.

I believe that, in any world, no matter what face I wear or what name I am called, I could weather any storm if I have you by my side.

So, I pray. I pray that whoever scripts my fate, whatever challenges they bestow upon me, may possess a modicum of mercy, and ensure that I always end up in your embrace.

Then, and only then, would I depart this world a contented man.

You have completely rewritten the story of my life, and I am utterly gone on you, Max Lightwood-Bane.

May god have mercy on my soul.

Madly yours, David

#I will go cry in a cover over this fic because I put too much love into it #david beauchamp #max lightwood bane #mavid #my fics #mavid rwrb au #PS writing these emails has been the best part of this fic because their writing styles are SOOO different and it was so fun to do

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annakayy · 3 months

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Find the Word - Tag Game

Both @verba-writing and @faeriecinna tagged me in this game! Thanks y'all! The list I have is a bit long so I'll pick my favorites - cloud, influence, and time. The new words are: Night, Cold, and Red. Cloud

The river was a calm mirror of the clearing skies above; gray clouds dispersed, rainless, to reveal the afternoon sun, though it was not warm and the light was teasing. - TBOTWW

Influence

It glistened on his skin like little glass beads that had molded to his form, hung from his hair like grease, danced in the light like a thousand tiny eyes, only furthering the influence of the fire. - L'appel du Vide

Time

He sucked in a breath and shifted again. “I guess I think I’m immortal sometimes.” - RSOSS

Tagging @overdecorated-furniture, @tryingtowritestuff24, @amaralionelli, and @tildeathiwillwrite! Have fun!

#writing #writers on tumblr #writing community #creative writing #fiction #short story #writer blog #short stories #writeblr #writing blog #RSOSS #rising sun over setting seas #l'appel du vide #writeblr tag game #find the word tag #find the word game

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ikemenomegas · 8 days

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Now MYY oc needs to die during the shibuya incident 😭 because seeing Shoko go with the flow in letting her friend's body get used (i know that its the most practical and necessary thing to do in the situation but it still hurts) and how Gojo remarked in the flashback that he was annoyed that Shoko didn't object to the idea of using his body as a weapon. Now I want MYY oc to die and have them reunite with gojo in death because shits too sad :((

Okay okay, I think you actually make a good argument for myy oc dying. Mostly because the whole point of myy oc is that it seemed impossible that there was no one else besides Suguru who treated Satoru as human (an equal, not a god or monster).

A tight story works really well with the characters it has, and despite all our complaining, jujutsu kaisen trends towards be a pretty tight story (for a weekly release) with some really distinct themes. Probably one of the reasons the reaction to ch261 has been so visceral was because there were all kinds of threats against the catharsis achieved earlier on, because we're not just seeing the end of a character, we get to see all these little hints of the ways Gojo could have continued to grow as a person, but now never will. There's rightfully a lot of complex emotions from the audience there! In a way, Gojo's perennial childish presentation and his subsequent death still places him within the group of those sacrificed young for the sake of the sorcerer mission (and he's really only 29? so he IS still young, just no longer a socially recognized child)

Therefore, in this au which adds a romantic interest character, the only way things make sense is if Gojo actually did have an attachment to myy oc, if he felt connected and understood in some way. This is very different to canon Gojo whose primary constant tether is to a past that is impossible to retrieve.

The "canon compliant" way I been playing around has Gojo intentionally severing his connection to myy oc in order to undertake his run at Sukuna. He has grown enough to realize there is a vital attachment there, and feels bad about hurting myy oc's feelings, but not enough to risk more selfishness and try and preserve it, to be more (and somewhat less) than just the peak of sorcery. He's trapped in this self fulfilling prophecy that he himself has played into in just about every au that has to do with curses though. (In this au, it's actually myy oc who gets to survive and learn to become something more than a sorcery. I even have a very poor draft of myy oc meeting gojo and geto in the afterlife /sigh)

What you're talking about makes sense and is almost "canon compliant" in a different way, it just plays into this passive l'appel du vide we see from Gojo a few times. A technique is tied up in one's personality some way, and there is this urge Gojo has to just dive off the edge, seeking the void, only he's never met a peak that's actually higher than the place he's standing on, he's never met something more than the "everything" he experiences with his Six Eyes. Until Suguru who opened his eyes to the importance of other people, Yaga who dared to really try and teach him, Shoko who could do something he couldn't and would never be able to explain, and in this au, myy oc, who refused to ever want him as something more or less than human (even if framing him in that context took work).

Shoko lets others make their own beds. She was never going to stop Yuuta or Gojo because she doesn't believe in that kind of meddling, but she also doesn't believe in making useless displays of emotion when something is going to happen/needs to happen anyway. She will bury her own hurt until it is a soft place to lie in. Gojo is someone who can and may take and take and take if given the chance, Shoko is not going to get through to him by letting him move around her, but unfortunately, that's what the less nice part of their friendship is like.

Losing myy oc in Shibuya (when he's not even there to try and stop it) would push Gojo further into this disconnect which sorcery often demands a lot faster. He won't blame himself, just like he sees how Suguru needed to make his own choices (cannot save someone who does not want to be saved), but it makes it that much easier to let go and love only the fight, to try and reach that peak, to finally take that step to destroy the structure he's been part of for so long, and want to go back and do it all over the right way when he's given the chance...

#There may have not been anyone else to fully get through to him or behave the way he wanted #but it seems all too tragic that there wasn't anyone else who found a common ground with him thus myy oc was born #ask answered #sorry for the long answer I am VERY sleep deprived and i know i went on a bit of a rant #but i will not edit... much! I refuse! I just love him typos and all!#jjk spoilers #jjk 261 #gojo satoru #io.myy

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thesunwentdown · 9 days

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l'appel du vide

it was years ago when we fell back together, and ever since we've been drifting apart. you are everything I've ever wanted, so why do I proclaim to the world that I want for nothing? what happens if we destroy each other? What if I never again hear you sing?

when I was 6, my therapist asked me what I wanted out of life. I told her I wanted to draw, I wanted to sing, I wanted to write stories better than the ones that took me away from there. she told me I had the hands of an artist. I've never let that go. What if I wanted to have the heart of an artist?

my parents did cocaine before they had me. when my mother found out she was pregnant, she never breathed with her nose again. my father decided he wasn't ready to grow up. my mother married a drunk. my sister is my world but my brother is a light year away. my mother says she loved me, that I saved her life. she doesn't understand why I kept trying to end mine. What if I wanted to fly?

#poetry #poets on tumblr #creative writing #writers and poets #writers on tumblr #writing #artists on tumblr #poem #prose #autobiography

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solarisgod · 1 month

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i'd love to read more about micah's dante break character! 👀

Before we touch upon Dante Break, going over the details of Micah's arts career, xyr arts career started in 2010 after xe graduated with Arts Bachelor from the four year Performing and Visual Arts program at the USC School of Dramatic Arts.

With xyr second eldest siblings, Valentine Everlove, Micah initially took in theatre and played a large amount of leading and supporting roles in various drama productions until 2013, xe expanded xyr career into film and television. Xe often saw acting was restrictive as it's generally held with high expectations by both the audience and production teams. In 2015, wanting to have a media that Micah could have most creativity liberty while being unbounded to restrictions and expectations, xe produced a series called Beyond the Unknown, playing its unreliable narrating and morally ambiguous protagonist, Dante Break. Beyond the Unknown became popular over time, expanding upon five seasons before it completed the storyline in 2018.

Beyond the Unknown was a story that Micah had since xe was fourteen years old, fascinated with the worlds of science fiction, supernatural, and especially metafiction; Dante Break being Micah's most comfort and all favourite original character. Beyond the Unknown was about the multiverse that was falling apart from Nihils, an ancient race of eldritch beings from the Void that consumed those in their ways after breaking free from the Cosmic Order's weakening grasp. The audience plays an essential role with Dante taking them as a character, calling them the Outlooker and itself the Outsider, and they undergo a series of adventures across different areas of time and space, playing diverse themes and genres. The audience learns in the fourth season that the entire multiverse dies when the story of Beyond the Unknown concludes, making them the ultimate cause of the universal death due to them initiating and ending the existence of this universe and its story. Although Beyond the Unknown then had an interactive sequel film, Beyond the Unknown: Against the Void, where Dante Break managed to give the Audience a chance to save the universe, having one of the three endings depending on the choices that the Audience make:

The Good Ending ( everyone lives while the multiverse returns to cosmic harmony ), the Neutral Ending ( certain or every important characters dies but the multiverse can still exist, entering the state of " rebirth " ), and the Bad Ending ( everyone and everything and everywhere dies, only leaving you alive in the void forever ).

Dante Break is the childling of L'appel du Vide and Mise en Abyme, the personified Time and Space, but Dante's existence corrupted and created disturbance in the Cosmic Order, becoming an eldritch entity of time loops and liminal spaces, chaos and entropy, black holes and dark matters, the unreality itself ( being the unending cycle of creation and destruction, life and death, the Cosmos without beginning or end ). Dante Break is its mortal name as its divine name was Khaoboros, the Devourer of Chaos. Essentially, Dante is known to be God's worst nightmare and mistake.

Dante Break with its source was inspired by several medias that its creator and actor, Micah Xenowake, highly enjoyed, such as: Alan Wake, House of Leaves, and the Truman Show. In regards to existing characters, Micah took inspirations for Dante from Mephistopheles of Faust, Jack from English folklore, Atlas from Greek mythology, and several others. Beyond the Unknown explored the themes of breaking free from fate, gaining control in the narrative, and the inevitable act of loving the self and others despite it all. Micah wanted to have the protagonist who could be carelessly aware of the ultimate fate, but eventually breaking their own cycle of nihilism, they chose to do something about it rather than letting this awareness fester. Dante Break was seen to be coded with Dissociative Identity Disorder from its erratic behaviours and personality while people speculated Micah had DID, as given the interviews and behind the scenes xe's part of, although while xe never made any comments on this speculation about Dante and xemself, xe's more than content about people making headcanons on Dante's DID coded nature.

Dante Break is amoral and curious to the fault, constantly travelling between time, space, and even the universes. Despite its general associations with chaos and nihility, Dante exists as a neutral being that never takes any sides, rather is it only ever carving its own path to anything and everything that most interests and benefits it, as well as it is a cosmic outsider to discern real faults in established systems and be the force of bringing awareness to choices and their impacts. Dante excels in the arts of sorcery and trickery, engaging in them for its own curiosities and delights. Dante initially didn't care about the multiverse's approach to death, its nihilism and skepticism being the highlights of its character, but across the Beyond the Unknown storyline, with the Audience, it learnt to recognize the forms and functions of Love before it could comprehend its existence, hence, Dante was able to continue the timeline by making a grand choice that could lead the Audience to save the multiverse once and for all.

#ANONYMOUS #///#//#/#𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ ANSWERS . ›#𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ META . ›#𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ MICAH . ›#𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ DANTE . ›#[ Astereus does have an alter with the same name who was introjected from the fictional Dante Break character ]#[ so we'll just give it a tag but ggrgrgRGGRGRRRRRRRRR ]#[ DANTE BREAK MY BELOVEEEDDDDDDDD ]#[ the way I got SO deeply stupidly attached and detailed with this character already iHJSBKJFNSFJSNL ]#[ THIS WAS NOT MEANT TO BE A THING BUT ALAS ]#[ thank you so much for letting me ramble about Dante ;; ]#[ the way I actually wanna write Dante Break but??? ]#[ I'm not so sure how that'll work if it's a fictional character that A Fictional Character played ljsnfgnflgnlZNSJLNFLF ]#[ I just think it's so neat............... <3 <3 <3 ]

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