#INEVITABLE EVANESCENCE ✮⋆˙

[dumbificat]

‎INEVITABLE EVANESCENCE ✮⋆˙

multifandom angst prompt event.

no matter the person, no matter the place. we will all fade away. that is our ‎inevitable evanescence.

— RULES ✮⋆˙

— reblog / comment if you’re interested in joining + the character(s) you’ll be writing for (so i know how many people will be joining) ('ω') — you can reblog even if you aren’t joining -> it helps with reach, so please do !!

— work with these prompts how you like ! there are no fandom restrictions. please write for one of the following: character x reader, character x character, character x oc, any of the aforementioned but platonic.（^人^）

— no nsfw, only sfw or suggestive - if you’re unsure if your work is too much, reach out to me before you post (⌒▽⌒)

— when you post your work, please use the tag 「INEVITABLE EVANESCENCE ✮⋆˙」 + @ me ! i’ll be making a masterlist for the published works :D

— when you post, please put which prompt you’ve used - either the word or the whole thing !

— you have until june 2nd to post, but if you need more time or want to withdraw, please let me know as soon as you can ! this is voluntary and just for fun after all ٩(^‿^)۶

— if you have any questions, reach out to my inbox or on discord (also dumbificat) ^_^

PROMPTS ✮⋆˙

FADE — watching as the light fades from their eyes, muttering soft “no’s” as they weakly reach up to your face, pushing hair behind your ear for the last time.

「i’m so glad you’re here…」 「of course i am, i promised, didn’t i?」

WITHER — they’ve been in a tough battle, now they limp on the bed. you’ve been treating them with such care but it’s hard to watch as they wither away.

「hang in there, okay?」 「i’ll try. for you, i’ll try.」

WANE — (romantic) after years in a relationship, you can feel their feelings wane. they don’t look, touch or say the same things they used too. will you let them go gently or fight for what once was?

「i’ll see you later. love you.」 「do you? you can’t even say “I” before it. what, are you scared of a letter?」

DISSOLVE — having to leave, not knowing when you’ll next see each other. you share one last hug, pulling away with shuddered breaths. it takes only a moment before their resolve dissolves into a mess of tears.

「please don’t go…」 「you know i have to. if i could, i would. you know that, too.」

VANISH — it’s been days since the accident, you’ve been by their side the entire time. the beeping of the heart monitor is enough to give you strength, but a flatline was quick to make that strength vanish.

「no… no, NO! IT’S NOT FAIR!」

DWINDLE — (hanahaki disease au) your best friend sits at your side, shocked at your state. you seemed fine days ago, how could you get so ill so fast? you contemplate telling them how you feel, ruining your friendship all the while or force them to watch as you dwindle away.

「how did this happen?! please, tell me!」 「i can’t…」

DIM — you notice how their smiles are weaker, dimmer than usual. it’s clear something happened, but you don’t know how to ask. you only hope you can offer comfort, but even that might be too much.

「i can tell you’re hurting. please, talk to me.」 「…」

DECLINE — they’ve been coming home late, not responding to texts. you barely know who they are anymore. your relationship declines, culminating when they send a fatal message:

「stop messaging me, you don’t need to know where i am.」 「so i guess that’s it then?」

DEGRADE — (platonic) they started hanging out with new people, leaving you in the memories of what your friendship used to be. you work up the courage to question the degradation of what you were but that might be the last time you speak.

「leave me alone.」 「you’ve changed. im glad you’re showing your true colours now.」

EVANESCE — they hurt you. more than you could ever imagine. promises were broken, as was your heart. you can’t stop the tears when they began to yell at you.

「what the hell is your problem?!」 「i’m sorry…」 「it’s too late for that now.」

well? what are you waiting for? join now !! :D

#INEVITABLE EVANESCENCE ✮⋆˙ #multifandom #angst #event #writing prompts #dialogue prompts #prompts #angst prompts #blog event #dumbi

[hydrargyrumochi]

oh, to be in your arms

��. mainly yoohan, implied yoohankim ; angst ; 463 words ฅ. major character death ฅ. written with prompt "fade — watching as the light fades from their eyes, muttering soft “no’s” as they weakly reach up to your face, pushing hair behind your ear for the last time" for @dumbificat's angst prompt event!

a blinding white streak slashes through the sky, and han sooyoung is sprinting across the rubble without a backward glance.

no.

no, no, no.

the black flames climb her arm as she runs, sputters licking at the longer ends of her hair; the flickering matches the frantic thumping of her heart as she nears the slumped figure.

this can't be.

the man lay with his back to her. was he breathing? was he… alive?

she stumbles the last few metres, heart thudding painfully against her ribs at the form lying still before her. with shaking hands she reaches out —

calloused fingers grasp her own tightly, eliciting a short gasp.

"han… sooyoung…" the man rasps, eyes lighting up briefly as they scan her face.

"you idiot…" she chokes out.

her free hand brushes his locks away, thumb gently tracing over the many wounds littering his body; she stops short at the deep gash that wrapped his torso, inevitable doom crashing upon her once again.

his grip on her squeezes like a vice when she moves to tear the fabric of her clothes.

"it's too late." the finality in the small smile matches the tear in her heart.

"don't say that. don't you dare say that." her words do not hold the anger she wishes it does, only the pain that won’t go away. what a terrible thing to feel.

"sooyoung-ah," she can tell it’s taking everything in him to keep speaking, so she listens with everything she can give.

"i'm so glad you’re here…"

han sooyoung tracks his outstretched hand as it grazes her cheek and pushes a stray strand behind her ear. despite everything, a chuckles escapes her lips and she blinks furiously, determined not to let the tears fall under his golden gaze.

"of course i am, i promised, didn't i?" his skin is steadily losing its warmth under her palm; she clasps both hands over his in a desperate attempt to do something, anything. her black flames have long dissipated, leaving only unravelled bandanges hanging loosly on her arm.

"you'll make it, right?" she tries her best to grin, to lift lead-like cheeks. "he can't lose you. i can't lose you."

"i'm sorry, but it seems like i'll be going first." her eyes widen in horror as she watches what will be his last breath shakily pass through his lips. (her gut knows, she knows)

his hands slips through hers, and it's like he takes a part of her with him as his chest stills — eyes no longer seeing, mouth no longer speaking. heart no longer beating.

she clutches onto him, finally breaking down and wailing into his shoulder, but he can't respond anymore.

you'll take care of each other, until we meet again?

of course. in every lifetime.

#૮ writings ა #INEVITABLE EVANESCENCE ✮⋆˙ #orv #orv fanfic #orv angst #yoohan #orv yoo joonghyuk #orv han sooyoung #yoohankim #tw major character death

[stellar-skyy]

A SILENCE SO LOUD — Heizou x reader.

i. SUMMARY: After the accident, Heizou refuses to leave their hospital room. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: Character death (reader), hospitals, probably medical inaccuracies, referenced car accident. iii. NOTES: Can be read as romantic or platonic, modern au, angst, hurt with no comfort, gn!reader, reader is referred to as heizou's partner (could be romantic or work partner) they/them pronouns used, 2.4k words. iv. A/N: Written for the amazing @dumbificat's inevitable evanescence event! I chose the prompt vanish. Please read the warnings before proceeding, please and thank you :)

The dull ring of a heart monitor echoed against the walls of the hospital room. 

One beep. Two. 

Heizou lounged in the chair beside the bed, tilted at just the right angle to observe the sleeping figure. It was a seat intended for guests to take up, but he'd been sitting in it almost as long as the person lying down had occupied their bed. His back twinged with pain every so often, however it was not enough to convince him to move.

He reached out and slipped a hand through the sheets to blindly locate theirs, pulling it out and giving it a squeeze. Maybe if they were awake, they would make a comment about how strange it was; holding hands with someone who was nowhere near conscious enough to feel his touch. He rubbed his thumb along their palm, tracing each line indenting their skin.

The few hours prior were agonizing. While they were stuck in surgery, the doctors managed to convince him to take a walk; get some fresh air that wasn't filled with the smell of disinfectant. Even following their advice, Heizou's thoughts drifted to their sleeping face. Every second since they were admitted, he was at their side watching them. His injuries were far less severe—a handful of cuts over his arms and an array of bruises. The staff felt enough pity to allow him to wait outside or in every room they were moved to, his eyes never leaving their closed ones.

Eventually they were settled here, attached to a variety of machines until their body was covered in tubes and wires. Every few seconds, the heart monitor would sound.

One beep. Two.

If they were awake, he would have been chastised for being so stubborn. They might roll their eyes, make a comment about him not taking care of himself. It was always them, who had to call him out on his borderline-unhealthy behaviours. Kujou Sara had tried, many times, admonishing him for skipping sleep in favour of working on whatever case his mind had fixated on. Hell, even Itto had managed to notice how he neglected eating some days to have more time to do things he decided were more important. However no one could get through to him like his partner could. A raised eyebrow, the slightest frown of disapproval, and he would already be moving from his chair to go take a nap.

But it wasn't like they could say anything. They hadn't managed to drag themselves into consciousness yet, not since the accident.

Heizou scoffed to himself. 'The accident' was still such a stupid way of describing it. That kind of melodramatic, cliched name would never have been his pick, but the concerned visitors that crowded the bed every few hours seemed dead-set on calling it such. It was always, 'I heard about the accident', always 'Are you okay after the accident, Heizou?'

That question was enough to make him fall into laughter, right there in the hospital room. A bewildered Kujou Sara had stared at him like he'd gone mad, while he doubled over in hysterics.

It was her fault for asking. Why should she bother to ask him if he is alright, when he was the one in the chair and they were the one hooked up to a heart monitor? He was alive, he would survive without half a dozen machines strapped to his body. He didn't have any right being asked if he was okay.

She had excused herself after that, while he swiped tears trickling down his cheeks (from such heavy laughter of course; there was no other cause.)

Shinobu was next to visit, which was a surprise to Heizou. A bigger surprise was how she seemed far more interested in speaking to him.

“I think you need to consider a plan, for just in case. Just... think about what you're going to do if–” She had said, being cut off immediately by Heizou's voice, three times louder than hers.

“If? If what? You do know they're going to survive, right? They've had surgery. They're stable. They're going to be fine.” Heizou leaned back in the chair as casually as he could, ignoring the pinpricks of pain the movement caused. “I don't concern myself with 'what ifs?'”

He was lying through his teeth.

What if was a constant thought in his mind, between the moments where he drifted through a dreamless sleep. What if I wasn't the one driving that day? What if I had gotten a few more hours of sleep that previous night? What if I looked to my left, and saw the headlights before they were too close to avoid?

“I know it's painful, Heizou.” Shinobu said softly. It was almost bewildering to hear. That girl was all sharp edges and blunt words, so the rare gentleness always caught him off guard. “But please, think practically about this. Okay?”

Riddles were a passion of his, but for once Heizou felt no desire to pick apart the meaning of her words; less out of not understanding, more out of a fear that he did.

“It wasn't your fault, Heizou.” Shinobu said. “Listen to me: it was not your fault.”

“Oh, yeah? How the hell would you know that?” Heizou scoffed, now moving his eyes from his partner's prone form. “You weren't in the car. Don't pretend you know what happened.”

“Heizou…” She began. “I know we aren't close, but I do consider us friends.” That caught him off guard slightly. When did that happen, he wondered. “And I don't want to see my friend destroy himself with guilt over an accident.”

The other reason why he ground his teeth together at the word accident, was the sheer amount of people assuring him it was just that. A tragedy, a freak crash, a terrible calamity that no one could have foreseen. It was a comfort, in their eyes.

In an accident, there is still at least two parties: the victim, and the perpetrator. His beloved partner fell into the former category. And Heizou–who wasn't paying attention to his surroundings, who had the radio blasting loud enough to drown out the sound of the motor rumbling closer and closer–knew for certain he was the latter.

It was almost funny, in a twisted, morbid way. Even in an accident, there was still someone at fault. It wasn't intentional, sure, but it was his hands gripping the steering wheel, and his foot on the brakes just a second too late.

They lapsed into silence. Shinobu stared at him in expectation.

“You should get going. Guest hours are finishing soon.” He managed to spit out.

That wasn't the right answer, if the crumpled up look behind her mask was any indication. He couldn't see her face, but he would bet his life there was a twitch of her lips, like she always did when she was displeased with the Arataki Gang. That sight was a privilege he had seen once, and once only, but it stuck with him more than any other memory they had shared.

“Goodbye, Heizou.” Shinobu said quietly. It was only after she left that he realized that she didn't look at [Name] once.

Heizou let go of their hand, watching it fall back on the bed limply, and folded his arms over his chest. A pang of hunger made itself known in his stomach, but he ignored it. Food could come later, but he was preoccupied at that moment.

When they woke up–and that was a when, not an if, he thought to himself–he would have to take them out for lunch. Treat them to a hot meal, on him. It was the least they deserved, after everything. In the meantime, all he could do was watch them get fed through a tube hooked on their face—a hideous, invasive-looking device. Heizou tore his eyes away from it, focusing back on the sound of the heart monitor.

One beep.

Heizou's breath caught sharply. His eyes darted over to see the machine, as the singular beep continued to sound. On the screen, the jagged pattern had smoothed out, into one clean, straight line.

An alarm began blasting sound outside of the room, a constant wailing that echoed throughout the ward.

“No…” He muttered under his breath. He slammed his fist against the screen, as if that would jolt it back into the steady pattern. His voice raised to almost a yell, fingers curling around the sides of the machine. “No! No, it’s not fair!”

Heizou stumbled backwards, hitting the wall with a thud. His vision had gone hazy, but he could see enough to awkwardly locate the emergency call button on the side of the wall. It let out a melodic chime, completely out of place among the blaring alarm ringing through the room.  

There was still no movement from the hallway, even with the alarm filling the ward. Almost tripping over his feet, Heizou closed the distance between him and the door to kick it open. His hands clung desperately to the doorway as he yelled down the corridor.

“Nurse! Nurse! Help, please–” Heizou made a strangled sound at the back of his throat, roughly swiping at his eyes to clear his eyesight. “Please, someone help! They’re–”

The siren was still wailing over the sound of his cries. It wasn't enough, there was no one there, and their heart still wasn't beating.

“Help!” He screamed, over and over until his voice was as raw as sandpaper. The world around him melted into a blurry haze, with the only distinct sensation being that torturous alarm and the sound of his own voice.

“—kanoin! Shikanoin! Please, calm down!”

The world snapped back into place like puzzle pieces fitting together. A nurse was in front of him: their primary nurse, if his memory was correct. She had one hand on his shoulder gripping tightly, as she continued to shout in his face.

“You have to leave. The doctors need to start the defibrillators, and we can’t have you getting in the way.” She said, loudly and firmly.

“Wha–No!” Heizou protested, ripping himself out of her hold, like her touch was fire.

“The doctors need space. Wait outside, we will speak to you soon.” The nurse insisted, making shooing motion with her hands. He was unceremoniously ushered into the hall, door slamming shut behind him.

There was a chair outside of the room; askew, like someone had knocked it into the pathway in their hurry. He dragged it over to the frosted windows, sitting on it backwards so he could press his face against them. The attempt was fruitless; the windows were impossible to see through, so he turned his back on the room and collapsed heavily in the chair.

No one had had bothered to turn the alarm off, so it continued: screeching, screeching...

A screech of tires; headlights flashing from his side. He looked over his partner and through their window in a panic, freezing at the lights like a deer in the middle of the road.

His foot twitched, but it was too late to hit the brakes now. All he registered was a blood-curling scream in his ear, tearing through his shock enough for him to realize what was about to happen.

Heizou flinched backwards, hitting his head on the window. Eyes blown wide, he gasped, clenching his fists until he felt his nails dig into his palms. The pinpricks of pain drew him back into the present.

Someone had the sense to finally turn off that alarm, so Heizou found himself in silence. That had to be a good sign, right? If something had gone wrong, they wouldn't have time to hit the stop button. They must have stabilized them while Heizou zoned out, and switched the alarm to off so the panicked atmosphere could quiet.

“Ah, Shikanoin.” A woman's voice; the nurse from earlier. Heizou forced a grin onto his face, hoping she didn't see the redness in his eyes.

“Nurse! How are they?”

“I'm sorry, Shikanoin.” She said gravely. Her voice faded to static after those words, while Heizou stared at her, mind completely blank.

Sorry could mean a lot of things. Sorry could be for the delay in attending to them, or for the distress that they caused him. Sorry could be referring to all of the trouble he was put through, or for how long they took to tell him they were alright and alive. Yes, it had to be that last one. He couldn't dream of any other possibility.

“Shikanoin? Are you listening to me?”

“Hm? Oh, sorry I zoned out for a sec. Silly me, huh?” Heizou chuckled hoarsely. The nurse's face softened, something dangerously similar to pity in her eyes.

“Ahem. I will repeat myself then. We attempted to resuscitate [Name] to the best of our abilities, however it seems their body has rejected the heart surgery. I'm afraid–”

“No!” He whispered under his breath. It was lost, among the discordant sounds of the hospital, drowned out by phantom wailing of alarms, footsteps pounding against tiles, and that damned beep singing in his head.

The quiet protest couldn't stop the next four words.

“They didn't make it.” The nurse bowed her head respectfully, but the gesture was hollow. She was already subtly gathering the papers in her clipboard, ready to move to the next patient. Perhaps some part of him felt kinship with it; that sort of dull desensitization was common amongst detectives too, particularly ones that dealt with death on a daily basis. He could almost see himself, quietly reassuring a victim's wife that he would do his best to solve the murder of her husband, before he methodically moved on to the next case that fell on top of his desk.

It was ironic then, that he found himself being the one comforted now.

“I'm sorry for your loss, Shikanoin.” Heizou couldn't bring himself to respond, still staring blankly at the nurse.

She exchanged some words with a doctor emerging from the room, before vanishing back through a door. Heizou's hands fell into his lap, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. He wasn't crying anymore, he noticed absently. Some part of him knew the news would settle in soon and he would crumble. He was a building on the verge of collapse, waiting for a single frail breeze to send him crumbling.

The rest of the hospital was gone. All that was left was a single sound.

One beep. Constant, and echoing in his ears.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

#✒️ — writing #「INEVITABLE EVANESCENCE ✮⋆˙」 #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗ #—stellaronhvnters. #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact angst #genshin angst #genshin heizou x reader #heizou x reader #shikanoin heizou x reader #genshin impact heizou x reader

[rishiguro]

55; “I’M NOT LETTING YOU DO THIS ALONE”

“well, this seems alright,” you mumbled to yourself after sitting down on the bed in what now would be your room.

the room was about as big as the one in the hospital’s palliative ward, with beige and one brown colored wall and a few pieces of furniture. it even had a big window and a small balcony to stand on.

“not too bad, huh?,” aran said, putting down your luggage.

he turned to the door, exchanging a few words with the black haired nurse that had greeted you — and as you were told, was also the one who would tend to you. the man informed your best friend of the next steps, his eyes often wandering to you before leaving the two of you to settle in for the next minutes.

you nodded along absentmindedly, not really paying attention to your best friend.

clenching your jaw for a short moment, you looked down at your hands, both placed in your lap, fingers twiddling.

“hey” the mattress dipped beside you as aran sat down. “it’ll be okay,” he said slowly, carefully, after waiting a couple seconds to figure out what to actually say.

you cracked a weak smile, still not looking at him.

a part of you wanted to agree with him, even if you weren’t even sure what ‘it’ actually meant. after all, it couldn’t get much worse than that, could it?

you knew that this must be hard on him too — aran has been your best friend for practically your entire life, obviously he’d be devastated too. and as his best friend your first instinct was to comfort him too, just like he tried with you.

but you couldn’t. what would you even say?

‘it’ll get better’ — that sounded stupid.

‘i’m sure it’ll work out’ — yeah, as if.

‘i’ll be healthy again’ — as if you were ever healthy to begin with.

as if you ever had the same chance at a long life as him, iwaizumi or any of your friends.

but you knew that, didn’t you? ending up here was inevitable, wasn’t it? so why were you so beat up over it?

although, a little more time would’ve been all you needed. a warning, a message, a hint, anything for you to know just how fast you would end up here and how quickly your illness caught up with you.

something to help you come to terms with it. something to prepare you.

and also something to prepare the ones closest to you.

you could still feel aran’s eyes on you, waiting, but not pressuring you to reply. so after a while, your mind still wiped clean of any words you once knew, you could only bring yourself to shrug.

“this is… odd,” you finally said, “i don’t really know what to feel”

“i know,” aran replied slowly, letting out a breathy laugh before he went on. “at least we know you’re still sane”

throwing a quick glance at him, you shook your head, not being able to stop your mouth from curling up. “i guess so”

after a few more moments of silence, aran reached out, putting his hand on yours. “listen, you’re not on your own, okay? i’m not letting you do this alone”

you looked at his hand, fondly remembering how this was something the two of you had done ever since you were little. it was a simple gesture, small and almost insignificant, but to you it meant unconditional support, friendship and trust.

“we’re not letting you do this alone,” he continued, “you got all of us and we’re here for you”

aran could sigh relieved as you finally lifted your head up, directly looking at him. your eyes were teary and your lips were dry and trembling slightly as you nodded weakly.

he immediately pulled you close to him, wrapping his arms around you and engulfing you in a warm hug. “we got you,” he whispered, “i promise”

evanescent

/ɛvəˈn��s(ə)nt,iːvəˈnɛs(ə)nt/ — “soon passing out of sight, memory, or existence; quickly fading or disappearing.”

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#₊❏❜ ⋮evanescent #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu smau #haikyuu angst #iwaizumi x you #haikyuu x you #hq smau #hq iwaizumi #hq angst #hq x reader #hq x you #haikyuu imagines #haikyu x reader #haikyuu smau series #haikyuu social media au #haikyuu texts #iwaizumi hajime x you #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu au #haikyuu!! #haikyuu

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

Call Me When You’re Sober

Summary: The scents of aftershave and laundry detergent fought with that of sharp whisky and for a split second, you closed your eyes, pretending that nothing had happened between the two of you, that you were still having silly date nights every weekend like you used to two years ago and that the cold of distance had never moved in alongside with spilling the contents of your moving boxes into his living room.

Pairing: Simon Walker x afab!Reader

Word Count: - 2.3k

Content Warning: Plot With Smut 18+!, Angst Gallore, Hurt/Hardly Any Comfort, Unprotected P In V, Everybody Is Kinda Very Uncomfortable In Here, Mentions Of Alcohol

A/N: Massive thank you to @ohlookapan for indulging into my Simon Walker brain rot!

This is supposed to eventually grow into a multi-chapter thing, but let's see how far we come 🫶🏻

Tagging: @queer-crusader @somethingblu3 @blueberrypancakesworld

Don't cry to me, if you loved me

You would be here with me

You want me, come find me

Make up your mind

- Call Me When You’re Sober By Evanescence

A sharply burning sensation emitted from your tired and weary eyes, the discomfort buzzed through your skull and the sensitive skin of your under-eyes alike, yet, no matter how hard you tried to let your mind wander and dissolve into much-needed sleep, you couldn’t.

With your thoughts racing and a new, uncomfortably hot gush of tears pricking at your tear ducts, you pushed your face into the pillow.

Everything seemed to suck so fucking hard.

Work - shit.

Friend circle - deteriorating rapidly.

Relationship - raging dumpster fire.

No matter how hard you fought to keep it all together, to glue together the sparse things that could be glued back together, that little card house called your life came back crumbling down at the very first breath of inconvenience and misery certainly loved your company as of late.

As the heavy wooden door to the apartment flew shut, leaving the walls to vibrate for a moment, you flinched and groaned, knowing just by the sound of it that trouble was highly likely ahead. Feeling yourself tethering at the edge of patience already, you wanted to hide your head beneath the pillow, to muffle the uncoordinated sounds of your boyfriend stumbling out of his boots and slightly struggling to get his torso out of his coat. He groaned just like you did moments before, complaining under his breath and careening through the corridor whilst your mind depicted the mental image of his nearly terrifyingly tall and lean body having been dulled down, incapacitated to the point where his olive green coat would be found tossed to the floor instead of hung up nicely.

The sound of the door to your shared bedroom being pushed open came to you much more quiet and gentle, at least some decency hadn’t been lost just yet.

“Hey…” You hummed, turning yourself onto your back, choking back a wayward sniffle.

“Still up?” Simon retorted, questioning whilst stating the obvious just the same.

“Can’t sleep.” Your answer came quickly, being fabricated out of the same sense of obviousness.

“Hm.”, Simon hummed, pulling his thin, gray t-shirt over his head and tossing it in front of the nightstand, “What’s up?”

What’s up? You couldn’t keep your jaws from clenching down, teeth gritting in the futile attempt to shove back a sob. The very second the pathetically pained and tortured sound slithered past your lips, Simon’s intoxicated sense of attention was on you.

“What’s going on?” With his fine eyebrows raised into an arch, he flopped himself onto the bed, mattress curving down under his weight as he seemed to cup you with his height, half embrace, half sloppy attempt to find some sort of comfortable position.

Inevitably, it drew you in, pulled you closer to him with the need to simply press your face into his chest and hide away from everything for a moment.

“Everything fucking sucks. What’s up with everybody lately?” Your already heavily strained walls caved down with every word, some of them addressing Simon just as well but that went conveniently right past him.

You turned to the side, body curling up into Simon’s almost embrace in search of comfort. The cold from outside still clung to his fingers and face as he rested his chin atop the crown of your head, slender fingers finding your waist underneath the oversized sleeping shirt loosely covering you.

“It’s the season, I bet. Dark, raining all the time, y’know? Hard to keep up a good mood when it’s pissin’ again outside.” He wasn’t entirely wrong, however, it didn't even begin to cover your struggle in the slightest.

The brief inkling of frustration that had bubbled up in your stomach over it got washed away as quickly as it had formed by the pungent waft of deeply smoky whisky that trickled from Simon’s words. It didn’t actually surprise you anymore, only enraged you a little more every time it happened because he allowed himself to be careless enough to numb it all down, to quite literally drown it all out and be comforted by bottles.

“Yeah, probably.” You shrugged your shoulders in a whim of apathy, the palm of your right brushing over his side, hardly really touching him although everything within craved to do so.

To your surprise, Simon caught the notion. For the duration of a quick peck, he pressed his lips to your hairline and mouthed a swift: “Issok.”

The touch of his skin against the inside of your hand felt off, strange, and almost unfamiliar and the realization hit you like a sour burp, bile gushing up along the root of your tongue, leaving you with a sharp sting. For an uncomfortably long moment, you roamed your memories in search of the last time he’d hugged you or vice versa. It must’ve been weeks already, apparently falling out of familiarity happened quickly.

In a terribly overcompensating fashion to counteract the feelings rising inside your chest, you pulled yourself closer to Simon until your face was snuggly nuzzled into the curve of his neck. The scents of aftershave and laundry detergent fought with that of sharp whisky and for a split second, you closed your eyes, pretending that nothing had happened between the two of you, that you were still having silly date nights every weekend like you used to two years ago and that the cold of distance had never moved in alongside with spilling the contents of your moving boxes into his living room.

“Can’t we just leave? Drive and don’t look back?” You hummed into the crook of his neck, the tip of your nose brushing against his skin softly.

“I wish, but I doubt that’s how it works.”, Leaning into your touch, timidly following your invitation, Simon led his hand to wander along your stomach, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not like it’s your fault, love.” Was it not, though? Your little, saccharinely sweet white lie prompted the corners of your mouth to twitch downwards.

You were fucking yourself over and all it took was Simon to so much as breathe in your vicinity. You really dared to cry unto yourself about everything being shitty lately, about his actions or much rather the lack thereof tearing you up from the inside but what were you doing in all this? Pampering him in moments you could very much speak up.

A quick, low hum of his got lost in your temple, the vibrations of his uttering sending a wash of goosebumps down your body. The physical reaction was followed suit by your breath hitching in the back of your throat as his hand crept up for the pad of his thumb to trace along the curve of your breast.

It took but this barely even there crumb of affection, already more than you’d expected to be subjected to anytime soon, for you to feel like you were dissolving. Any sort of reason or proper critical thinking turned into mush the very second Simon’s lips inched down to reach your cheek, coaxing you to lift your chin from his shoulder and turn your face towards his.

“Simon..:” You mouthed his name like a breathless prayer.

He shushed you gently, his mouth now skipping over your cheeks in direct aim to press down onto your lips to shut you up. At that, your stomach started twitching and turning as if you were to board a rollercoaster; nervosity pitted in the depths of it whilst your insides felt like being elevated all the same. Up and up and further up, dangling right on the edge expecting to fall, to be dropped, ripped down into freefall until the ride was over.

Your heart hammered against its ribcage with such vigor that you were certain Simon was aware of it. For a split second, you felt a sense of embarrassment passing you by, triggered by how easily he had you all wrapped around his fingers just by touching you. It set you ablaze with a growing need to feel more of him, to devour him whole if he would just let you, wants and needs clashed within whilst his touch still somehow came unnatural. Something about it was blatantly off, and you tried to drag yourself to care, but your need for quick, cheap escapism posed as way too hungry. He might’ve been sloshed off the whisky so you got drunk on him for the time being.

In the absence of his shirt to find purchase on, you palmed at Simon’s hip, pulling him onto you for you to roll on your back again, shoulders digging into the soft mattress below under the doubled weight. Your legs wrapped themselves around his waist immediately, not planning on letting go anytime soon, not when you felt Simon pressing against your crotch like that and for a moment you sensed all your reasoning leaving your body, your mind effectively going blank, in the very second your other hand tugged at the elastic of his shorts with a sense of greed and hunger that would’ve left you speechless about yourself under sane circumstances.

Simon didn’t stop you as your nails lightly scratched along his lower back and neither did he pull his hand from groping at your breast, thumb flicking over your pebbled nipple repeatedly, eliciting quiet moans to trickle from your lips into his mouth, drinking them all up.

You arched your back from the sheets, pressing your front against his chest for your other hand to shove and tear at the delicate fabric of your slip, dragging it past the round of your behind until you could awkwardly shimmy out of it, heels nudging and scratching along Simon’s waist.

“No need to beat me to it.” Your boyfriend laughed in a weirdly dry tone, trying to take the edge off his very own comment but it pricked uncomfortably regardless.

“Sorry…” You muttered in return, the sour sting dampening the momentum of the situation for a brief instant.

“ ‘M just messing with you.” The tip of his nose nudged yours softly, stroking along the bridge until his lips left a gentle peck in the space between your slightly crinkled brows, aiming to smoothen them out again.

Instead of addressing them, you decided to leave his words hanging in the dark air of the bedroom, waiting for them to slowly and most of all silently evaporate into oblivion. The only hushed sounds quietly echoing from the tapestry- and picture-adorned walls now were the hasty shuffling of fabric and shallow breaths, a poorly choked back moan that pushed a watery sheen to glaze over your eyes as Simon drilled himself into you.

The sensation of being stretched out like that, skin against skin and heart to heart came painstakingly foreign to you. You were well aware of how soft, bendy silicone or your own fingers felt when you hid yourself away for a quick stress release in the bathroom but having Simon above you - inside you - threatened to overwhelm you with its intensity. It very much wasn’t a matter of you being wet enough or not, yet it nearly pained you to be so full of him, your mind suddenly acting in dissonance to a body that couldn’t get enough after being starved of attention and affection alike.

“You okay?” Simon whispered to you sweetly, sounding as if he actually cared, as he rolled his hips into your lap.

“Uh-huh.” You pressed between slightly quivering lips, your body awash with the pressing need to just let him work you, to finally fuck the doubt out of you so you wouldn’t have to deal with it all by yourself all the goddamn time.

You wanted Simon to use you for a little while because that would’ve given you at least a fake sense of purpose in this gradually deteriorating clown show of a relationship.

“Fuck me,” You muttered with your lips moving against his collarbone.

“What?” Simon halted and it made you want to cry out in strained patience and desperation.

“Fuck me, please, rail me into the mattress, whatev-” You got cut off unexpectedly, the air being plowed out of your lungs by Simon having very much understood and now doubling down.

For a moment you felt like choking on your breath, air getting stuck in your throat that tried to exhale just as much as groan into his smooth check as he pinned you down against the sheets with the weight of his body, effectively pushing past the border of emotional overstimulation with much more primal needs eventually taking over.

You’d pleaded unto him to make you forget, to properly fuck you into the next day and that’s what he did with reckless abandon. In this state of fragile ecstasy, you clawed at Simon’s sky, leaving red marks with your fingernails all across his waist whilst teeth latched into the firm muscles of his chest. With everything you held on to him, allowing yourself to be taken away by comfortably numbing surges of pleasure for as long as Simon towered above you, spreading your legs with the width of his hips until you couldn’t feel them anymore.

#simon walker #simon walker x reader #simon walker smut #simon walker x you #hollyoaks #neil newbon #neil newbon fanfic

[violetpixiedust]

something sweet for sydcarmy that i couldn’t get out of my head

the rigid slope of his sun-kissed nose bloomed a vibrant scarlet as it brushed against the ebony complexion of her petal soft cheek. the delicate curvature of her face was reminiscent of the stained glass cherubs that danced across the evanescent sunlight when it seeped into his weekly aa meetings, undeniably gentle, radiant. honey-suckle curls drooped down to meet hip length braids, framing the divine structure of her body below him, laid atop his rustled sheets. the pair was askew, tangled, dewey with a veil of essence akin to the first morning fire ups at the bear. a husky moan left his cupid’s bow shaped lips, as manicured nails ran down the flushed expanse of muscle peaking through his rare pristine white tee. one calloused hand urgently pushed the hem of her tight red turtleneck up below her concealed mounds, fingers twitching against her unconsciously arched ribs. the other wandered below the little charcoal skirt that had taunted him endlessly during their menu experimentation in his minuscule kitchen that day. barely exposing a flash of ivory each time she whipped around to fetch a knife, paprika, salt, a clove of garlic that had ‘slipped’ off his counter top. a pretty little outfit he knew the woman in front of him wouldn’t be caught dead wearing around the likes of richie, marcus, gary, fak, even ebra- a soprano moan cut off his possessive train of thought, hyperactive mind practically melting into oblivion as his warm lips frantically kissed the exposed underside of her jaw, basking in her light scent of lavender soap and lilies. desperate to claim, claim, claim-

“carmy-“ his denim clad hips unconsciously ground down into hers at the crack of her voice, the sound of his name leaving her mouth like a prayer. the ribbons of their desperate moans intertwined in spite of the ache that pounded down the doors they had once desperately attempted to seal shut.

“syd. oh fuck. fuck! please-“ the wetness that had previously concealed his hazy cobalt gaze trickled down his freckled cheeks, staccato groans swallowed by her plump pout that had been decorated with brunette lip gloss, now smeared across his cheek.

“c-an i-i take this off-?” carmen shuddered as she raked her nails through his dampening curls, waiting not a second after her confirmation to tug the poor excuse of a garment down her sinfully bare legs, leaving a burning trail in its wake. carmen felt his heartbeat pound in his ears, the once dreaded feeling akin to his panic attacks now fuelled by unbridled desire, urging him forward as he marvelled at the sight of the younger girl in front of him. shell shocked as the quick absence of her shirt revealed a lacy lingerie set, ivory, scraps of fabric reminiscent of lacy chef whites barely concealing the most intimate parts of her. transparent enough that he could make out the dusky shade of her nipples through the wispy fabric, her sticky mound. it tumbled out of his mouth before he had the chance to bite it back.

“god, i love you.” and he would have been mortified, hightailing it out of his own apartment to avoid the sight of his sous leaving the bed of her pathetic loser of a boss- had the girl not taken charge, straddling him in under a few moments, fingers encircling his golden chain to hold him steady, as her lips slammed against his in a teeth clashing kiss, a valiant effort in pushing down what apologies would have inevitably come up. her tongue was doused in lambrusco, spurring carmy on as his tattooed arms pulled her impossibly closer to him. desperate to memorize the scent of her, the silhouette of her, the taste of her, before he faced the consequences of his confession. he only went slack when she finally breathed shakily in his ear, hushed, as if she was telling him a secret, missing the glimmering onyx of her doe-eyes as they softened incredibly at the very sight of him.

“love you too, chef.”

#i haven’t been able to stop thinking of them since the first episode #they’re so perfectly imperfect #silly chefs #the bear fanfiction #the bear #sydney x carmy #carmy x sydney #carmen x sydney #sydcarmy #sydcarmy smut #carmy berzatto #sydney amadu #carmy x sydney smut #carmy x sydney fluff #pixie’s works * ੈ✩‧₊˚

[perestroika-hilton]

Okay this is the official rina sawayama party line: she's good when she's experimental but when she's not actively pushing the envelope a la snakeskin, comme des garcons, and akasaka sad, it devolves into like nostalgia gooning for truly some of the most mediocre sounds of the early 2000s like actually I'd be fine if evanescence and xtina were lost to history

I feel like this is kinda the inevitable result of deliberate genre hopping like it's a very of the times you like x and y? Well my project z is perfect for you

[ace-of-hearts-and-spades]

Sometimes I think about how my mom used to play Evanescence's Fallen CD in the car when I was a kid, and how my brother and I would listen to the teaser trailer for Transformers: Fall of Cybertron because it had "Humbling River" by Puscifer playing over it, and how I would rewatch the Bionicle trailer for the Baraki arc because of the song "Creeping in My Soul" by Cryoshell, and how I didn't have band names or song titles to connect to them at the time, so they just existed as tantalizing nameless pieces of music that stayed with me long after I'd first heard them. I mostly listened to pop and whatnot growing up, but none of that music stuck with me like those songs did. And I look at my music taste now and idk I get this weird feeling that's somewhere between nostalgia and inevitability. Something something my music taste has come full circle. A perfect circle, if u will.

#idk how to communicate what i'm feeling rn. i'm just thinking about childhood and nostalgia and metal. they're positive feelings mind u. #idk i'm having a moment #maybe i just need to go to sleep #tbd maybe #ace rambles

[awellreadmannequin]

Dust Before the Wind

It’s fascinating that Genshin, HI3, and then HSR are all thematically preoccupied by the inhumanity of immortality. It’s a fascinating theme for a gacha game company to attach itself to considering the ephemerality inherent to the medium. Gacha games are transitory by their nature. Like Heraclitus’s river, you can never play the same one twice. Instead, they are constantly being updated such that older versions are rendered completely inaccessible. They live in the eternal now until one day, the final patch comes and then the servers go dark. This is, of course, true of all live service games. Yet most do not find themselves preoccupied with warning their players not to get too attached. There’s something almost Buddhist about it. Which makes sense. After all, Chinese culture and the Japanese culture Hoyo often intentionally imitates are both deeply indebted to various strains of Buddhist thought.

But cultural context alone feels hardly sufficient to account for how intensely these games all focus on the horrors of inhumanly long life. More particularly, they’re preoccupied with the consequences of the pursuit of immortality. This too makes sense. There are still people alive today who lived through the Japanese Imperial project’s pursuit of a sort of cultural immortality. The consequence of this pursuit was some of the most horrifying crimes against humanity history has ever recorded. However, I am again reticent to simply conclude that this correlation is causal. Not all Canadian art is preoccupied with warning the world about the corrosive influence of cultural hegemony, so it wouldn’t be fair to conclude that Chinese art is naturally about how the pursuit of an unchanging eternity inevitably leads to war crimes. (Could I have used a more accessible cultural reference here? Maybe)

Regardless of the degree to which we can or should attribute cultural influence to the themes of miHoyo’s games, my major thematic takeaway from each is that to live an unchanging existence to is to invite suffering into one’s own life and the pursuit of such invites suffering into the lives of others. In Genshin, this theme is made explicit in Inazuma, but its presence is pervasive. Each of the four Archons we’ve thus far met have undergone some change in either explicit or tacit recognition that stasis is impossible and the desire for it is a vice. The long lived characters of HI3 are miserable, either because they’re so old that they struggle to remember their pasts and thus who they are or because they can’t forget the past and the longer they live, the more their regrets and vices define who they are to the exclusion of other traits. HSR is, if Kafka can be believed, about killing gods. Our characters find themselves immersed in a culture that views their immortality as a curse which strips them of their humanity. They resent the seemingly beneficent deity who others view as a healer because they’re experience suggests that not all conditions should be healed.

Metatextually, the games themselves are constantly changing, older versions endlessly being washed away by newer ones. Characters as game entities are temporally bound first by their banners and second by the inevitability that these games will end one day. I think that this marriage of medium and message is partially what makes these games compelling in the first place. I mean, what other games are so seemingly aware of their own limits in this way? Of course, their popularity is helped by the devs being unable to stop writing characters, stories, and situations that are just thinly veiled excuses for flagrant homoeroticism.

I’ll leave this post off with the opening lines of the Heike Monogatari, a 14th century Japanese epic about the 11th century Genpei War. A few years back, I gave a guest lecture to a Philosophy of Art class about evanescence, suffering, and the will to power. I used these lines to illustrate how evanescence can manifest in poetry and they’ve stuck with me ever since. I thought about them last year when I played through Genshin’s Inazuma arc, I thought about them again earlier this year when I played through Fu Hua’s Chronicle story thingy in HI3, and I’m thinking about them now while playing through HSR’s Luofu arc.

These lines form the first half of the introduction to the Heike Monogatari. The story itself chronicles a war that sees a fundamental shift in the balance of power in Japanese society that coincides with the decline of one great noble house and the ascension of another. As these lines suggest, it is a story about change, but more importantly about how resisting change - pursuing stasis, an eternal status quo - is folly. These are lessons that I feel miHoyo is right to suggest that we should take to heart.

“The Jetavana Temple bells

ring the passing of all things.

Twinned sal trees, white in full flower,

declare the great man’s certain fall.

The arrogant do not long endure:

They are like a dream one night in spring.

The bold and brave perish in the end:

They are as dust before the wind.

Far away in the Other Realm,

Zhao Gao of Qin, Wang Mang of Han,

Zhu Yi of Liang, Lushan of Tang

spurned the governance established

by their lords of old, by sovereigns past,

sought pleasure and ignored all warnings,

blind to ruin threatening the realm,

deaf to the suffering people’s cries.

So it was that they did not last:

Their lot was annihilation.”

Book 1, Chapter 1 of The Tale of the Heike

Translated by Royall Tyler

Not super relevant to all that other stuff, but at one point in Heike Monogatari there’s a lady who gets possessed by the ghost of a guy who isn’t even dead. Literally, the translator describes it as his ‘living spirit.’ This book rules so hard and you should absolutely go read it. Especially if you’ve read and enjoyed the Iliad or Beowulf, which I know that some of you beautiful freaks have.

#genshin impact #hi3 #hsr #honkai imact #honkai star rail #meta #analysis #or like #meta meta? #idk #these are just some thoughts I freestyled off the top of my gourd

[haggishlyhagging]

Youth is the season for love in both sexes; but in those days of thoughtless enjoyment provision should be made for the more important years of life, when reflection takes place of sensation. But Rousseau, and most of the male writers who have followed his steps, have warmly inculcated that the whole tendency of female education ought to be directed to one point: to render them pleasing.

Let me reason with the supporters of this opinion who have any knowledge of human nature, do they imagine that marriage can eradicate the habitude of life? The woman who has only been taught to please will soon find that her charms are oblique sunbeams, and that they cannot have much effect on her husband's heart when they are seen every day, when the summer is passed and gone. Will she then have sufficient native energy to look into herself for comfort, and cultivate her dormant faculties? or, is it not more rational to expect that she will try to please other men; and, in the emotions raised by the expectation of new conquests, endeavour to forget the mortification her love or pride has received? When the husband ceases to be a lover—and the time will inevitably come, her desire of pleasing will then grow languid, or become a spring of bitterness; and love, perhaps, the most evanescent of all passions, gives place to jealousy or vanity.

I now speak of women who are restrained by principle of prejudice; such women, though they would shrink from an intrigue with real abhorrence, yet, nevertheless, wish to be convinced by the homage of gallantry that they are cruelly neglected by their husbands; or, days and weeks are spent in dreaming of the happiness enjoyed by congenial souls till their health is undermined and their spirits broken by discontent. How then can the great art of pleasing be such a necessary study? it is only useful to a mistress; the chaste wife, and serious mother, should only consider her power to please as the polish of her virtues, and the affection of her husband as one of the comforts that render her task less difficult and her life happier. But, whether she be loved or neglected, her first wish should be to make herself respectable, and not to rely for all her happiness on a being subject to like infirmities with herself.

-Mary Wollstonecraft, ‘A Vindication of the Rights of Woman’, qtd. in Alice S. Rossi, The Feminist Papers: From Adams to de Beauvoir

#alice rossi #mary wollstonecraft #love and marriage #feminist history #heterosexuality

[ls-daydreams]

♫  I don't wanna be something I'm not to stay alive ♫

name: Michael Vail // age: teen (varies) // sign: cancer // from: Plain River // occupation: student, chef, nurse, #1 cop hater // issues: daddy, mommy, abandonment, etc // likes: anime, classic rock, collecting things, beating people up (athletically) // dislikes: his dad, untidiness // primary setting: silent rebellion

“Cared for” only by a corrupt, violent father who wants nothing to do with him, Michael has to learn how to fend for himself from a very early age. He becomes incredibly resourceful and knowledgeable, books and movies his only sources of entertainment until his shell is finally worn out by an unlikely friendship with Kai. Slowly, he eases into forming more bonds, which in turn help him escape the pain of his sheltered life, even if only momentarily. After all, the more attached you get, the more agonizing it is when you’re inevitably severed away.

Listen: Spotify | Youtube

Vibes: teen angst, emo, existential sadness

Story Info: Metanoia Intro Post | Metanoia Tag

Other playlists: Mal | Gabe | Kai

Tag list (please ask to be +/-): @mirioho​ @enchanted-lightning-aes​ @wildswrites​​

There’s an intentional order to the tracks, so if you’re listening make sure to turn shuffle off. More characters (and places and vibes and couples!) coming up, so if you’d like to be tagged in updates let me know! 💓

Using @words-after-midnight​‘s Character Songs tag as an excuse to post this :D (Rules: Choose one of your characters and list songs that fit them.)

Tagging @jezifster @dogmomwrites @pens-swords-stuff @dotr-rose-love @wildswrites @tate-lin @calicojackofficial @marinesocks​ (I’m just eager for song recs lol)

(if people like these, i’m thinking of accepting requests for others’ ocs. let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in and i’ll put together a little plan!)

Tracklist under the cut:

Lisa Hannigan - Sea Song

Alessia Cara - Here

WOODZ feat. MOON - Touché

The Cure - Lovesong

Muse - Uno

Two Feet - Fire In My Head

Digital Daggers - Fear the Fever

Nothing But Thieves - Your Blood

Muse - Hysteria

Kerli - Love Is Dead

Metallica - Until It Sleeps

The Neighbourhood - Daddy Issues

Mansionair - Easier

The Neighbourhood - Void

Evanescence - Hello

Evanescence - Eternal

#writing #writeblr #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr #writing community #writers #wtwcommunity #playlist #character intro #ldwrites #ldmetanoia

[digitaltohru]

A few weeks ago I made a 🧵 (on Twitter) about songs that remind me of certain characters, mainly because of the lyrics or different situations that they might have gone through so I’m going to bring this here because I fear some of them could sprout good scenarios for anyone who’s interested (or not)–

Part 1 - Part 2 -

Yor Forger イバラ姫

1. Minor Feelings - Rina Sawayama

𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦

𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦

𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘫𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯

This song is speaks about the pain of being alone with your expectations and swallowing minor disappointments until one day it becomes too much to handle. Things that you would’ve done differently even though you were just a child, now an adult trying to cope with your life choices. It’s also about imposter syndrome.

2. I’m not a woman I’m a god – Halsey

𝘈 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘴

𝘐 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 '𝘦𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘦

In a lyrical sense, yes, it parallels her assassin job, but also it’s a way to say she’s literally playing as the executioner instead of the one who plays judgment. Yor is convinced she’s doing more good than harm, and to me, that’s almost like playing god without being aware. In my own interpretations it’s also about the fact of her being an assassin as a way to reclaim power war took from her.

3. Salvation — Christabelle Marbun

𝘛𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘶𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘺

𝘗𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵

𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦

This song explores to me, that time in which Loid and Yor begin to catch feelings, though canonically we haven’t seen much of it. In DTW (go read that), it has already been eight years since the beginning of Operation Strix and four since Twiyor have been involved behind closed doors. One day, their relationship escalates from admiration, praise, and then there’s lingering of fingers, touching of shoulders until they can’t get out of the inevitable. Both know they can’t get carried away but keep coming back for more.

4. Tourniquet - Evanescence

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐'𝘮 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘢𝘭

𝘐'𝘮 𝘥𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨

𝘈�� 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 ��𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘥?

Oh, god, it’s getting too angsty now. We already had a glimpse of Yor reflecting if it’s worth to keep her job as an assassin during our Cruise Arc Adventure, but, to me, this song is also about her realizing the morality of taking life, realizing killing is still sin. I think she represses a lot of this when we see those frames of her silent and alone.

5. Criminal - Fiona Apple

𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺

𝘛𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺

𝘚𝘰, 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘢𝘺? 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸

I know… criminal, how cliche, but… it’s a very soothing and sensual beat incredibly fitting for Yor’s Thorn Princess persona.

Part 2 to come up soon! I didn’t want to make this too long. Let me know what you think or if you want to see something similar! I already have Loid’s and Yuri’s, jiji.

#hold the headcanon #yor forger #rina sawayama #evanescence #Christabelle Marbun #Halsey #Thorn princess #Spotify #Sxf playlist

[dumbificat]

hii dumbs is the event tag 「INEVITABLE EVANESCENCE ✮⋆˙」 or without the brackets?

here’s the tag:

INEVITABLE EVANESCENCE ✮⋆˙

sorry for any confusion !!

#dumbi #dumbi’s asks #:D

[jaegersolstice]

Death is sought in the form of a tree — it grows in forms of rough branches that grow into ready leaves that fall away. Each leaf, representative of a different method, a different mark on the world — a last goodbye. Overdose, heart attack, disease — gravel, dirt, pavement, all roads to the same destination, all choices to the same outcome.

To Dazai, death is nothing but a rite of passage; a political play, if you will. The system has had the the death of mankind configured since the beginning of time. To some, it is God who clutches their conviction and kicks at their heels, urging them to procure happiness. And then, there are those who believe life to be a series of serendipitous events.

Both lives believe death to be fate — that despite the argument of what creates a sin, passing is already known.

But Dazai has died many times.

Truly, he’s been counting. He avoided admitting it, though — not that dying is embarrassing, but wanting to die is (perhaps that’s the way it should be).

He separates the stages of his life into three parts: afterlife, alimentation, and nothingness. All of them, a continuous puzzle, distinctly marked yet none propitious enough for Dazai to remember, save one.

All of them ended in death.

“Penny for your thought?” A saccharine tone pulls him out of his thoughts, only to cause another wave of contemplation to crash through him. Dazai does not look up. He does not have to.

“Amounted to much? Of course not until you arrived, Fyodor.”

A small chuckle escapes the Russian presumptuously (a laugh of pity perhaps).

Wispy tendrils of smoke trail behind Fyodor, blending with the smoky air of the graveyard. Dazai is synonymous in his charcoal evening shift, buttoned to the top-most button. He sits in front of a gravestone, rocks marking on his calloused palms as he props himself up.

Even in the darkness of night, the man beside him stands out.

Fyodor Doetoesvky is starlight — present perpetually yet falling between the cracks of universes, evanescently existing before tumbling to the next — an inevitable pause without warning.

Make no mistake — he is far from a saint — one could spot him from his sins from afar; they drag behind him, as if he is a God and his wrongs must be glad to be tied to such a being (Dazai calls bullshit).

“If I had known you would be paying me a visit today, I would have dressed a bit nicer,” Dazai mock groans, casting the taller a soft glare.

“It is Sunday. Have you seemed to neglect me already? I’m quite hurt, Dazai.”

“I never was a stickler for punctuality and you know that Fyodor.”

Dazai’s tongue is one coated with poison — he’s a liar and Fyodor is well aware; but as a worshipper of the Devil himself, he need not to show his hypocrisy.

“With him you were, and besides, you have changed quite a bit, have you not? Your visits are brief, or non existent, you do not bring flowers,” Fyodor confirms, wary eyes fixed on the name etched on the gravestone.

“Habits change, appearance shifts, but human nature remains. Only in death does it cease. I have not changed, Fyodor. But perhaps you have just sinned a little less and thought of me a little better.”

“Perhaps.”

—

If love is life, then the loss of love is demise, and Dazai’s grip on life has always been a bit too weak. He likes to believe that on the day of his birth, he was born with years shaved off his life.

Perhaps he was a bit too frail, weak-minded, weak-hearted; he was not sure what it was but he knew he had been used before. As if he had been worn out, healthy for a while, then cast aside as another puppet, overused and unneeded — it was as if he had already lived before.

The stutter of his heart resounded hollowly and when the wintry skies would over take Yokohama, he feared the chatter of his teeth.

He was indebted to his weaknesses, however.

It gave him what mankind set out on a pursuit for: an excuse. He did not have to recount tales of picturesque infatuation to prove happiness. It was simple: Dazai was happy because he should have been satisfied that he was living at all.

#bsd chuuya #bsd dazai #bungo stray dogs angst #bsd fyodor #bungou stray dogs #dazai x fyodor #bsd x reader #bsd imagines #bsd oneshot #soukouku #shin soukoku

[brostateexam]

Amid the pageantry (and the horrible family intrigue) of the approaching coronation, much will be said about the endurance of the British monarchy through the centuries, and perhaps less about how the first King Charles ended his reign: by having his head chopped off in public while the people cheered or gasped. The first modern revolution, the English one that began in the sixteen-forties, which replaced a monarchy with a republican commonwealth, is not exactly at the forefront of our minds. Think of the American Revolution and you see pop-gun battles and a diorama of eloquent patriots and outwitted redcoats; think of the French Revolution and you see the guillotine and the tricoteuses, but also the Declaration of the Rights of Man. Think of the English Revolution that preceded both by more than a century and you get a confusion of angry Puritans in round hats and likable Cavaliers in feathered ones. Even a debate about nomenclature haunts it: should the struggles, which really spilled over many decades, be called a revolution at all, or were they, rather, a set of civil wars?

According to the “Whig” interpretation of history—as it is called, in tribute to the Victorian historians who believed in it—ours is a windup world, regularly ticking forward, that was always going to favor the emergence of a constitutional monarchy, becoming ever more limited in power as the people grew in education and capacity. And so the core seventeenth-century conflict was a constitutional one, between monarchical absolutism and parliamentary democracy, with the real advance marked by the Glorious Revolution, and the arrival of limited monarchy, in 1688. For the great Marxist historians of the postwar era, most notably Christopher Hill, the main action had to be parsed in class terms: a feudal class in decline, a bourgeois class in ascent—and, amid the tectonic grindings between the two, the heartening, if evanescent, appearance of genuine social radicals. Then came the more empirically minded revisionists, conservative at least as historians, who minimized ideology and saw the civil wars as arising from the inevitable structural difficulties faced by a ruler with too many kingdoms to subdue and too little money to do it with.

The point of Jonathan Healey’s new book, “The Blazing World” (Knopf), is to acknowledge all the complexities of the episode but still to see it as a real revolution of political thought—to recapture a lost moment when a radically democratic commonwealth seemed possible. Such an account, as Healey recognizes, confronts formidable difficulties. For one thing, any neat sorting of radical revolutionaries and conservative loyalists comes apart on closer examination: many of the leading revolutionaries of Oliver Cromwell’s “New Model” Army were highborn; many of the loyalists were common folk who wanted to be free to have a drink on Sunday, celebrate Christmas, and listen to a fiddler in a pub. (All things eventually restricted by the Puritans in power.)

#long reads

[aishiteru-kenshin]

Kuzu no Honkai | Scum’s Wish

I need to talk about the psychological anime Kuzu no Honkai (Scum's Wish) by creator Mengo Yokoyari. Looking for a new anime to watch, I was reccommended this title, read the synopsis, and was immediately drawn to it. Different from the usual romance anime, it tells a tale of two highschool students, Mugi Awaya and Hanabi Yasuraoka, who come together because the ones they pine for are in love with other people. I'll be honest: when I first watched the anime, it went from me thinking, "This is perfect... It's totally breaking my heart how I can relate to these feelings" to "What the fu--?" The characters' actions simply spiralled and became so twisted due to the desires of their hearts, mental illness, and/or trauma. It was depressing — haunting, in fact. All of the characters are awful human beings — scum, effectively — using each other for their own selfish ends. It was so uncomfortable to see that I wanted to stop watching, but I couldn't give up when I'd become so invested in the story. I relate to Hanabi Yasuraoka most of all. When I was in school, I was just like her: an introverted loner, having no friends to really speak of and an unrequited love. At that stage in life, it's difficult. There are all these societal pressures and raging hormones. What do you do when the person most important to your heart doesn't notice you, doesn't return your affections, and is being stolen by another woman? What do you do when you burn with desire for another person but you know that there's no hope of you ever being together? Most people would lock themselves in their bedroom, engage in masturbation while listening to Evanescence, and wait days, weeks on end for the tsunami sweeping over their heart to finally abate. However, Hanabi meets Mugi and they find in each other something better than that: a warm substitute to share physical intimacy with, a listening ear to their pain and worries, and a commiserating heart to what they are going through together. Again, all of the characters are “scum” except really for Hanabi and Atsuya Kirishima. For example, for the worst scum we have a psychopath named Akane Minagawa who poses as a benevolent teacher by day but who is really an unapologetic slut who hunts after and sleeps with men that she perceives to be desired by other women, getting a high from seeing the pain she causes. We also have a lesbian schoolgirl named Sanae Ebato who basically rapes someone who only sees her as their best friend at a sleepover, manipulates that person to think they are the one at fault, and then proceeds to sexually assault/abuse her in the school library. Then, there are the lesser scum such as Narumi Kanai who has a mother complex, dating/marrying a woman who he knows sleeps around and who tells him frankly that she will cheat in the marriage which he is perfectly okay with (Hanabi, he has many fine qualities, but you deserve better). So, yes, so much vileness, but also... so much realism. While I wanted to initially hate this anime, I was inevitably struck by its honesty. The human heart is desperately wicked and loves indiscriminately; it is only by conscious effort and striving to love purely that people can transform that muddy well into a fountain of limpid water. Loneliness, past traumas, and pain can hamper that transformation but it always remains possible. By the end of the story, Hanabi and Mugi are in a better place. I wanted them to forge a new bond made of the genuine love and care they obviously feel for one another, but that doesn't really happen. They do acknowledge their affection and respect for each other, but decide to part ways to reflect on things alone and eventually search for the true love they yearn for. It was the right thing to do, after the maelstrom they experienced. All in all, the anime was equal parts beautiful and grotesque. The music, composed by Masaru Yokoyama who some may know also composed for Your Lie in April, is exquisite and truly added to the melancholic depth of the story. My only gripe would be that they didn't give us an OVA epilogue for the very end of the series as depicted in the manga "Scum's Wish Decor." It's within that, that we discover how everyone's doing a couple years later and if Mugi and Hanabi ever find the love and purpose they've been searching for.

#Scum's Wish #Kuzu no Honkai #Anime Review #クズの本懐 #Mengo Yokoyari #Blogger Thoughts