Where Every Scroll is a New Adventure
@fluff-cember : [Prompt 13] Fire and Ice
Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs
Ship: Fyodor x Dazai
FINALLY I FINISHED THIS DAMN FIC, DEAR LORD. I am not philosophical in the slightest so this was an absolute pain to write, but I somehow did it. I had made a post about this earlier, where Fyodor would talk about Robert Frost's poem Fire and Ice with someone else, and I later chose that someone to be Dazai. Lemme know if they're in character. :') [btw they're in the prison here]
The day was as boring and dull as the previous, and probably the next. The only noise that could be heard in the space was the flipping of pages, and Dazai couldn't help but stare at Fyodor as the latter read some book.
He sat up in bed, eyeing the Russian’s figure curiously.
“What?” Came Fyodor’s amused voice, breaking him out of his trance.
“What’cha reading?” Dazai effortlessly shifted to his teasing tone of voice, leaning towards Fyodor’s cell.
Fyodor finally looked up from his book, giving Dazai an unimpressed look. “Poems.”
Dazai blinked, making a show of being repulsed. “Poems? Seriously?”
“Have you read poems by Robert Frost?” Fyodor asked, ignoring Dazai’s weird looks.
Dazai just hummed softly, glancing up at the ceiling in thought. “I've heard of the guy.”
Fyodor crossed his legs, corners of his lips turning up. “Fire and Ice.”
“That’s name of the poem?” Dazai whined. “Sounds so boring.”
Fyodor let out an irritated huff, bringing the book closer to his face to read out loud:
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
“So philosophical,” Dazai remarked, amused at the seriousness in Fyodor’s voice.
“I'd say this poem stands to be quite relevant in our time.” Fyodor gazed up at Dazai, tilting his head.
Dazai maintained their eye contact, leaning back on the bed. “...Whether the world is to end by fire or ice, hmm?”
“Fire, or ice—desire, or hatred?”
“Do you have an opinion on this?”
Fyodor set the book on the table, crossing his arms. “Regardless of the path, it is quite obvious mankind will lead to the destruction of the world.”
Dazai followed his movements. “I guess you'd advocate hatred and selfishness to win instead of violence, right?”
He slightly smiled. “Both.”
Dazai blinked, then laughed out loud, dramatically wiping tears from his eyes. “I don't know why I expected any less from you.”
Fyodor hummed. “However… I'd consider the role of ice—apathy, greed, and selfishness, to be grander.”
Dazai tilted his head. “Isn't violence practically second nature to us?”
Fyodor's smile widened, shaking his head as he explained, “It is the nature of humans to be cold too. The tendency to remain selfish results in mankind being unable to work together—”
“We’re apathetic, you mean?” Dazai chimed in. “Too caught up with ourselves to worry about others?”
“You are starting to understand,” Fyodor remarked, slightly irritated at the interruption. “They are blinded by greed, losing the ability to care unless something concerns them directly.”
Dazai yawned. “Bla bla bla, and this somehow ties up with abilities, gotcha.”
Narrowing his eyes, Fyodor ignored him and continued, “This lack of unity, alongside violence and a sprinkle of human stupidity, results in war.”
“What, so you think we're naturally inclined to start wars?”
He nodded. “War can begin due to the lack of empathy and understanding... or simple greed and selfishness.”
“Ehh, I don't think that.” Watching Fyodor’s eyes widening slightly, Dazai snickered and explained, “Resource scarcity, ideological differences, etc., lead to war; apathy is just a fuel.”
“Again, lack of understanding.” Fyodor sighed. “Which is basically apathy.”
"Apathy isn't always negative—sometimes, it can lead to peaceful resolutions.” Laughing as he made Fyodor awe-struck for probably the second time, Dazai continued, “If people aren't invested enough to fight, they might end up avoiding conflict altogether—”
“...Because people who are apathetic tend to be more indifferent and less aggressive,” Fyodor mused.
Dazai hummed, amused. “I'd say that could actually prevent fights from breaking out in the first place.”
Fyodor raised his eyebrows in interest.
“I assume you prefer fire, then?”
Dazai grinned. “As you had said earlier, fire and ice both will play a role.. because they are tied together.”
Fyodor quirked up a small smirk. “We can only tell as time passes, hm?”
“Seeing what the future has in store for us,” He murmured.
“Quite.”
Fyodor simply returned his attention back to the book, picking it up, as Dazai leaned back to have a shut-eye.
Cool art!
Mind Games Forever! 🤍
why do i have to feel if all i've felt is hurt.
- i'm stuck in a mess that i made for myself
Labyrinth
songs with no closure;
regret beats a solemn drum.
alice enchained paths to nowhere:
a house of reflections I can’t outrun.
confined by hatred’s vanity,
reliving terror, an R.I.P. rewind.
straight off the edge of insanity,
diving deeper, cornered in my mind.
cobwebs quiver, bounce in worry,
calling forth torture’s reprimand.
I strangle slowly, absent mercy
imprisoned in a twisted wasteland.
eternal silence oozes nightmares,
and ghost drown my daydreams.
darkness devours hope’s light flares;
my mind wanders playing schemes.
shrouded by the devil’s dealings
and wrapped in ruined rhymes.
swallowed by mixed feelings,
I’m trapped between two minds.
a graveyard of tortured ruins,
plagued by memories forsaking,
I’m lost in my head’s labyrinth,
a marred maze of my own making.
tortured by a noxious decision,
a soul made by its own mirage.
I’m cornered by a conscious collision
by hollow haunting of self-sabotage.
“this is not a place of honor;”
poisoned ivy creeps into my thoughts;
I’m my most formidable monster;
to flames of chaos, I’m the moth.
-kalika
https://www.dailymotion.com/embed/video/x33bh4x
(mashup) Miguel - Coffee bw Mind Games - 1 Train
mclennon truthers 🤝 john was killed by cia truthers
(wrongly) believing that when Yoko dies It'll All Come Out.
I wish I were Heather. That’s not her name but now everyone knows what I mean since Conan Gray explained it to us.
I wish I were her. Not only because she is one of the prettiest human beings I’ve ever seen and not because she is just as nice as an angel and vibes positivity, but because someone told me how you are feeling about her.
“He’s in love with her.” I guess that sentence will reverberate in my mind for quite some time. I still remember feeling the sadness crawling up my throat and stopping me from breathing. Gasping as the pain slowly sunk into my bones. That’s where it’s still sitting right now.
I wish I were her. Not only because she is closer to your age and she has already been friends with the people you hang out with before they even knew me and not because she lives closer to town so you somehow always end up at hers whenever you don’t have a ride home, but because I feel you drifting away from me while you seem to be getting closer to her.
I know you love me. Your brother basically tried to tattoo that onto my forehead because he knows how much I doubt it sometimes and how easy it is for me to put myself down. But I don’t think you know it.
What you know is that your sisters love me. The little one begging the older one to convince you to marry me one day and the older one telling me, smiling and nodding her head, that she can see it as well and she is praying that you won’t fuck it up. You know that.
You know that your brother loves me. Not as much as your ex, but “super fucking close” as he always says. I get it, he’s best friends with her so I totally get it. And I am thankful for your brother because he is the mental support I need whenever I feel stuck with our situation. He’ll tell me you love me, he’ll tell me your family loves me and he’ll tell me that he loves me most. Because he likes the you that you are when I’m around and he thanks me for making you happy again after such a dark time in your life.
And as much as they tell me that you love me I still wish I were her. Because as much as I loved seeing how happy you are with me, the more it breaks my heart to see how your eyes sparkle around her.
I loved building you up and I loved how you helped me to build up myself again, but I guess it’s her turn now. She gets what I built.
That’s why I wish I were her.
...
...
And to add something that fits with Conan Grays song a little bit more: I once took your sweater when you gave me your keys to go get the wine and when I came back and you saw me in your sweater, you said I looked like the smallest bean you’ve ever seen and threw me over your shoulder. We laughed. We were happy...You never gave her your sweater, the one you left me was cotton, not polyester. I still wish I were Heather.
Sometimes I open tumblr because I feel like writing. And then I sit and stare at the blank canvas that longs to be filled by my thoughts but I just...can’t. I can’t. And it makes me angry. I want to write something, I need to write something, but trying to pin down the words that are constantly circling around my head makes me realize that I don’t have a f*vking clue.
I don’t know
Anything
I’m lost in my own mind and the longer I stare at the letters in front of me the harder it gets to come back up and breathe fresh air.
I don’t know
Anything
At all
And I can’t help but hate the words that make it onto the pages because they are not what I want them to be and they make me believe things that aren’t there and
Damn
I really don’t know
Anything
At all
Or at least that’s what this post makes me believe.