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khaleesiofalicante · 3 days

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“She is not my girlfriend,” David mutters. “Are you stalking me?”

“Why is everyone accusing me of that?” Max groans. “I’m chronically online. I see everything.”

“Well, as I said, she is not my girlfriend,” David huffs.

“Why not?” Max demands. “She is fucking hot, man.”

“Do you think so?” David asks him, his voice curious.

“I’m pretty sure everyone thinks so,” Max laughs. “Don’t know what she sees in you though.”

You can now read chapter 04 of the mavid rwrb au here on ao3 :)

#mavid rwrb au #l'appel du vide #LDV

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boxboxlewis · 10 months

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Max/Daniel, “you caught me doing something dangerous and flipped out”

It’s not dangerous, because Daniel has fucking excellent reflexes, and also the wall is pretty wide. When he closes his eyes, though—when he closes his eyes and lets the Monaco sunlight turn the inside of his eyelids warm orange-red, when he flexes his knees slightly and leans just the slightest bit forward—when he lets the breeze push him a bit more, not too far, just his torso leaning forward, his body reaching, reaching for the harbour below, just flirting with gravity, just a little bit, just showing physics what he’s got, just dancing—it feels good. It feels good, knowing that if he jumped from his perch at the top of the wall, he’d fly.

He’s not going to, obviously; the harbour is a long fucking way below. It’s all a game, he’ll never go all the way. He’s just-the-tipping it, essentially. It still feels good. He stretches his arms out to his sides, feels the breeze plucking at his t-shirt; rolls his head to one side and then the other. Someone somewhere is playing music and the bass of it just barely reaches Daniel: a faint rhythmic thump, like the city has a heartbeat. You and me both, baby, Daniel thinks. He leans forward a little bit more.

Suddenly he’s in motion, and for one sick second he thinks he’s misjudged things and this is it, this is a plummet towards the harbour, good night sweet prince and all that. When his brain catches up to his body, though, he realises he’s not pitching forward: he’s been knocked to the side and back, off the wall, onto the dusty path. Someone is sitting on him, furiously shaking him by the shoulders: the sun is in Daniel’s eyes and he’s disoriented and it takes him a moment to realise the someone is Max, furious like Daniel has never seen him. “Are you stupid?” he’s shouting. “Obviously you are but I did not know you were so selfish also. What are you doing, Daniel? You can talk to someone, you have enough money to get help, you don’t—”

Daniel sits up, not without a grimace; his back is sore, and the wall scraped the hell out of his side on the way down. “Hey!” he says, and pushes at Max, not too gently. The soft firmness of his body is warm under Daniel’s hands. “Maxy. Max. Listen. I wasn’t—whatever you think was happening, that’s not what was happening, ok?”

“Oh, so you think I am the stupid one.” Max has his jaw clenched; he’s staring off to one side and—fuck, balls, cunting shit—his eyes are wet. “Well, that is fine. Fuck you. Get back on the wall, then. I can push you, if you like, if you’re too much of a pussy to go for it.”

Jesus. Daniel laughs, though it's not really funny: at how himself Max is, even when he's having some sort of Daniel-induced emotional crisis. “Max, listen. I wasn’t—I wasn’t going to jump, ok? I just—the feeling of it, you know? The feeling of being so high up, and like…” It’s hard to explain. Daniel thinks he could do it with his body, maybe: if he took Max’s hand and led him up onto the wall, if they stood together, if Daniel held him, wrapped an arm around him from behind, let Max feel him breathing. He says, “I just, sometimes I just like to do stupid shit, ok? To like. Feel alive, or whatever.”

Max blinks at him, uncertain. Daniel considers his face, all blotchy and flushed, the weird beak of his nose, the freckle at the top of his pale lip. He says, “Like—like this,” and jumps: leans forward, and presses his mouth to Max’s, hot and sweet.

#l'appel du vide #maxiel #my fic #mv33 #dr3

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hobgobknowsbest · 5 months

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Goblin Tips volume 5: The Call of The Void

y'know that little voice in the back of everyone's head? the one that tells you to turn onto incoming traffic, or spit on a cop, or simply just break something? most suppress or ignore it, but that is probably the closest you'll ever get to pure, unfiltered goblin energy.

the problem is that it's unnurtured and aimless. of course you don't want to wreck your car, or immediately get arrested, but if you were locked in a cage for years, would you not lash out blindly?

listen to your intrusive thoughts. listen, and consider them. the more you give them attention, the more realistic (and less self destructive) they will become.

instead of careening into another vehicle, you might slash someone's tires. someone deserving. instead of being handcuffed, assaulted, and finding yourself behind bars, maybe you find yourself behind a camera, recording an abuse of power. and that thing you break? it will be all the more satisfying.

goblins come from the void, the darkness. the space between the trees.

the call is coming from inside the house

answer it

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white-poppie · 2 years

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How Ran Likes em'

Characters: Ran Haitani x reader Genre: Crime AU Warnings: casino, poker, gambling, drinking, suggestiveness Writer: @ white-poppie

Song recommendation: Gangsta by Kehlani

This fic is an excerpt from my book: L'appel du vide (Please check it out !!)

Tokyo Revengers (東京リベンジャーズ)

"Wait how did I lose again?" you pouted fakely, staring at the dice.

You liked the black dress that you were forced to wear. A tight bodice that fell till your knees and renaissance-style puffy sleeves that adored your shoulders.

Your phone lay in your purse, connected to it was a chip, Naoto and Mitsuya could hear everything.

"You bet 5 and it landed on 6," the man chuckled at your unknowingness, "first time here?"

"Yeah, my friend said she would be here, but she cancelled at the last minute, so I thought why not try a hand when I am already here," you muttered, "but I am failing miserably!"

"Wish someone could teach me though," you whispered softly, but loud enough for your prey, no rather your hunter to hear.

Cloudy violet eyes travelled across the table, meeting your gaze, you pretended to squeak in surprise at the encounter (which wasn't really pretence, because, boy were you scared.)

Ran raised his eyebrows at your reaction, a little toothy smirk adorning his porcelain face.

He walked over to your table, a hand swirling the Vodka glass in his hands, standing behind you, he chuckled when you visibly tensed at your position.

"Need a hand, pretty?" he said huskily and you shivered in slight fear, "I'll help you with the game."

"That- would be g-great thank you" you answered, suddenly the corset wrapped around your waist felt much tighter.

"Are you from Japan?" he questioned

You fake gasped and smiled, "yes! you too sir?"

"Mhm," he smiled, secretly liking the fact that you addressed him as 'sir.'

✅: Ran loves being called sir.

He looked at the host, "what game you playin'?"

"Hazard," he answered.

"Ooh, a simple one," he said breathily, "Listen, doll, you'll be given two dies, choose a number between 5 and 9 and roll, you get money or get money taken from each right or wrong answer."

"Got it," you nodded taking the dice in your hands. Shaking them in your hands.

"Pick a number," the host asked.

"7," you answered and rolled the die and it landed on 7!

You smiled at the host, he passed you the 20000 yen ($150)

"Ooh~ you are a first learner," Ran grinned.

"I calculated the median (middle value) as soon as I understood the rules, a high chance of a win," you answered sweetly.

"Impressive."

✅: Ran likes em' smart

"Say, doll, wanna watch me play poker?" he asked and you nodded shyly, how pretentious.

Ran chuckled and guided you to the poker table, everyone there just screamed 'rich' without even uttering a single word. The wooden table glinted under the yellow light, people wearing suits and their women practically stuck to them with glue.

"Give me the deck," he told a man who looked like he was in his forties.

"Eh? It's my turn right now!" he panted out, keeping a hand on the woman's spine who sat on his lap.

Ran smiled and took out the gun that was tucked under his shirt and kept it on the table, a kind smile was etched on his face, "the deck, old man."

The man gulped ad handed him the deck, and the lady squeaked in terror. "Let's go," he told her and left his seat, another man took the opportunity and sat opposite to Ran.

"Didn't know guns were allowed at Casinos," you said as calmly as possible.

"They aren't, but people make an exception f' me," he looked at you and winked. A few seconds of quiet went by as he spoke again, "what's wrong, doll, scared?"

"More like intrigued," you said cheerily.

Ran chuckled at your response, "aren't you an interesting one."

"By the way, I didn't catch your name yet," you asked.

This made him suddenly go stiff and for the first time tonight, you feared for your life.

"Usually I don't answer when people ask me this, but it's Haitani Ran."

"Ash(Hai) Valley(Tani) and Orchid (Ran), you have a pretty name."

✅: Ran likes em' occasionally bold

Ran laughed at your etymology of his name, "how adorable," he whispered, "let's start the game, shall we?"

Saying that Ran Haitani had skilled hands at Poker would be an understatement. His nimble fingers worked quickly through the card deck, shuffling his cards in some squanderingly extravagant way.

You weren't going to lie, you were impressed.

"You are so good at this," you said staring at his hands, "like a magician."

"Wanna see some real magic doll?"

You nodded excitedly, mentally groaning at the act you had to put up.

"Get me a Martini princess, I'll win for you til' then," he chortled, giving his opponent a dangerous glint.

You nodded and walked to the bar, "one martini please."

✅: Ran likes em' obedient

Ran wasn't lying when he said he was going to show you some magic. You had absolutely no idea how he had managed to win 10 million yen ($74,300) in a matter of minutes. He extended his hand and you gave him the martini.

"Cheers," he said while bumping the glass in the air, towards his opponent, he was mocking them. The man tsked and left at his humiliation.

You clapped in delight, "sir that was amazing!"

"You were the lucky charm, pretty," he smirked and you couldn't help but cringe at his blatant flirting.

"I failed to catch your name," he asked.

"Tanaka Yumi," you smiled while placing forward a fake name Naoto had given to you.

"Tanaka Yumi, would you be interested in working for my organization?" he asked, you heartbeat lifted at his offer, he had fallen right into your trap.

"Don't have to do much, just run a few errands, listen to everything the members say, calculate a little and most importantly, not tell a single soul where you were and what is happening inside the premises."

"May I know what is the name of the organization," you asked to appear genuine.

"Bonten." bingo.

You gasped at his statement, "Bonten as in the criminal organization?"

"Mhm," he chuckled, "you'll get a lotta money though, and if you disagree...I'll have to kill you because you know too much."

You gulped and nodded, "I-i- accept sir, I am in need of money, my brother passed away recently, he was the only one I had in my family,' you sniffled.

Ran cooed and patted your head in faux sympathy, "there, there."

You looked at the time and gasped, "I will have to leave now sir, would there be any interview for the job?"

"Nope, I am the interviewer and you are hired, come to work from tomorrow," he searched his pockets and took out a card, "remember doll, no harm will be done to you as long as you keep your mouth shut."

You nodded and bowed at him.

'Ran Haitani,' you thought.

'Tanaka Yumi,' he pondered.

"I am going to ruin you."

Tags: @rintaroubby @nanaseishiro @dislownini @idowritingandstuff, @bakaface @denkis111, @jazzylove,@maybeleftoverjourneys, @lordmypantsaresocool, @futuristicallykawaiiturtle, @kristaline2dmensimp, @astrofai

Tokyo Revengers (東京リベンジャーズ)

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annakayy · 2 months

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Character Voice tag

Thanks so much for the tag, @verba-writing! Rules: Rewrite the line of dialogue from the person who tagged you into the voice of your OC's! (You can include a short beat of action to help establish character if you want.) Pass on the tag with a new line of dialogue. My phrase: "That's rude!" Your phrase: "Where are you going?" For this one, I'll use the Tulane siblings from L'appel du Vide, since they don't get much attention from me in these tag games (aside from Josephine) and because today, chapter three releases! Josephine Tulane: She stared for a moment, pressing her lips to a thin line, her eyes clear and hurt. "I don't think that was necessary." Raymond Tulane: "Do that again," he set his jaw, "you'll be spittin' blood." Martin Tulane: He rolled his eyes. "Cut it out." Annie Tulane: She touched her silver necklace, then narrowed her eyes. "You're cruel." Love how they're all so different from one another This one was a lot of fun! Tagging: @overdecorated-furniture, @tildeathiwillwrite, and @faeriecinna. Happy writing!

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sleekervae · 8 months

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#l'appel du vide

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devoursjohnlock · 1 year

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A Sort of Frantic Gaiety

One thing that has always bothered me about The Abominable Bride is Sherlock’s gleeful expression as he launches himself over the falls.

Sherlock’s swan dive in The Abominable Bride

Within just a few minutes, we go from Moriarty being shoved off the precipice, presumably to his death, to Sherlock taking exactly the same route, as he grins wildly, decidedly out of character.

Why should he be smiling? And should we be smiling, too?

A long-awaited trip to Niagara, under the cut.

By now, I’ve spent a fair bit of time with Arthur Conan Doyle’s diaries, and they reveal very, very little. Generally, they hold scant lines of text or numbers (cricket scores, allowances paid to family members, etc.) on a handful of dates, surrounded by seas of empty entries. In contrast, I have been able to find exactly one commonplace book, which is comparatively very rich. This book is a collection of notes and fragments: remembrances of events recent and long past, historical notes, conversations, and particularly thoughts about religion and politics. It is undated, but appears to have been written in 1912. In terms of Doyle’s Sherlockian writing, it places between The Disappearance of Lady Carfax (1911) and The Dying Detective (1913).

The only section in this book that appears to resonate with themes in the Sherlock Holmes stories is part of a relatively long passage (still only a few pages) that is a fragment of an allegorical story. Like a lot of Doyle’s later writing, it’s about the threshold between life and death. Even this fragment is a frame story; Doyle writes from the point of view of a character on a ship (Major Wood), who is an unemotional man, telling a story that was told to him by another man who is not present (a shipwreck survivor, Mr -----). Major Wood is speaking to a man named John ----- (Doyle left blank space, to be filled in later), as a number of unnamed characters listen in.

The Niagara Fall

Here is the end of that story. Note that it contains errors that have not been corrected from the original text.

“I could well imagine” said Major Wood in his stolid unemotional voice “that if one were swept into a roaring raging sea it might even have something like exhilaration in the experience, though death might be the result.”

“I have thought the same” said [John] -----. “Death under such circumstances would surely be a less coldblooded affair than to drown in a quiet lake. If one were buffetted & whirled and tossed too and fro ones thoughts even in those few instants of agony of which Mr ----- has spoken would be so bewildered & distracted that one would scarcely be capable of sensation, since no man can think of two things at the same moment.”

“I can recall when I was a young man” said Major Wood “before this unhappy war with the American Colonists that I was stationed with a company of the 60th Regiment, which was raised from among them, at Fort Niagara which is, as you know, near the famous Cataract of that name. Once for some small wager I ventured out to the furthest possible point under the fall.

“I can well recall that when I found myself with that vast shed of water falling before me with my senses stunned by the roar and my person enveloped in the spray, I felt, though I am not one who is sensitive to impressions, that I could leap shouting into the heart of it, and go in a sort of frantic gaiety to mix my broken bones in the grand turmoil of nature, dashing and tumbling in a glorious confusion with into the seething pit below me.”

[John] ----- nodded in Comprehension.

“Had you obeyed this impulse, sir, it is not to be imagined that you would have been conscious of physical pain. And yet how terrible an end would it have seemed to the bye stander! How folk would have shuddered to read of it! Thus we are continually mourning over that which may have brought little grief to those who actually endured it.”

L’Appel Du Vide

The fragment begins on the question (not quoted above) of whether there can be a god, given the horror of shipwreck. Major Wood proposes that shipwreck is only horrible for the dying because they make it so:

“There is a reasoned fear, and there is an exaggerated foolish panic. For after all what was it that these people had to fear. The pains of drowning?”

Wood is arguing that one must face death with “reasoned fear” instead of “foolish panic”, and that a reasonable person would see that death by drowning is not actually very painful, and thus avoid feeling terror while it happens.

In other words,

You always feel it, Sherlock. But you don’t have to fear it.

Moriarty’s words in His Last Vow express Major Wood’s claim perfectly and succinctly. But when Major Wood goes on to talk about “frantic gaiety” (quoted above), he is describing something else: this is l’appel du vide, or the irresistible sensation of wanting to jump when faced with an abyss.

At this, Wood’s unnamed companion shows Comprehension. John ----- fully understands the desire to jump, but what holds him back? The answer is simple: your suicide wouldn’t hurt you. It would hurt the bystander. It would hurt those left behind. They are the ones who face the consequences of your action.

And this is another thread that runs throughout Sherlock, always. It echoes through every series.

Reasons for staying alive (S1–S4)

Why is this a recurring theme in Sherlock? It isn’t a feature of the canon stories—not even The Veiled Lodger, which is perhaps the story most overtly concerned with suicide—but from the passage above, we know now that it is in Doyle’s writing. That it was in his thoughts.

So, what do we make of the Abominable Bride waterfall scene, now that we know the context for this expression?

I think that this is not, and never has been, a happy moment. As described above, it ends with broken bones in confusion at the bottom of a seething pit. I think that this is a man who is embracing l’appel du vide, ignoring the consequences to the man on the ground. Despite the fact that Sherlock dismissed Moriarty on that ledge only minutes ago, he is now following Moriarty’s advice.

This is what differentiates Sherlock’s two spectacular swan dives. Sherlock wasn’t answering l’appel du vide in The Reichenbach Fall. He wasn’t compelled to jump as a fulfillment his own desire, but to save John Watson. He knows that, so why isn’t that what we see in his own dream in The Abominable Bride?

Edges of the dream: in through John’s eye, out through Sherlock’s gasp

Perhaps because Sherlock isn’t telling this story. At least not directly.

Think of how the episode opens: on John waking from one dream (his war flashback) into another, a Victorian version of his life with Sherlock Holmes. It mirrors our introduction to John Watson at the beginning of the series, in A Study in Pink. And while the “rug pull” at the end of The Abominable Bride tells us that we’ve been watching Sherlock dream all along, that rug pull consists of turning his plane around for a safe landing. When so much of Series 4 has been focused on a plane that has yet to be landed, can we trust what we saw? I don’t think that we can. And Sherlock’s “frantic gaiety” in his leap into the dream waterfall, and its similarity to the leap described in the conversation between Major Wood and John -----, as well as its dissimilarity to the leap from Bart’s roof, invite us to re-examine our assumptions about the perspective of The Abominable Bride.

For these reasons, I think that The Abominable Bride has to at least be told from the perspectives of both characters, if not from John’s perspective alone. Let’s say for the moment that the episode represents John’s interpretation of Sherlock’s dream. John shows Sherlock enjoying the fall, which we know that he didn’t. This is the action of someone who would describe Sherlock’s time in exile as “a game of hide and seek”. John doesn’t know what the fall cost Sherlock. He only knows what it cost him, the man left behind. In this context, all of what comes after The Abominable Bride—Series 4—is subtextually about the consequences of the fall. Not necessarily to Sherlock, but to John.

#Sherlock #TAB #TGG #TRF #TSOT #TLD #the fall #waterfall scene #ACD #Niagara Falls #Spiritualism #fear and reason #l'appel du vide #death #suicide #grief #strawberry jam #taking your own life—interesting expression #once it's over it's not you who'll miss it

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tomsmusictaste · 1 year

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As Sirens Fall // Holy Water

#as sirens fall #holy water #l'appel du vide #mikey lord #jason doveston #adam doveston #bailey roper #asf #punk #pop-punk #alternative #alt rock #aggressive pop #lyrics #pop punk lyrics #punk rock #punk lyrics

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scribblesbyb · 2 months

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Irene

Here's B's first scribble. Enjoy the blurb!

Disclaimer: Themes of violence, gory images, and l'appel du vide vibes. POV: absurd.

Irene (what kind of name was Irene anyway? Was it Irish? I wouldn’t know; look it up yourself) has always been haunted by distasteful visions of murder. They would hit her at the most random of times.

Irene (seriously, Irene, that’s what we’re naming her?) sits in the doctor’s office. She listens and nods as this medical professional (professional my ass, he barely passes for a nurse) victim-blamed her instead of diagnoses her. Her fingers tap impatiently against her thigh (of course the doctor was a man, it was always a male doctor that’d make her uncomfortable) as she waits for him to finish telling her off,

“There are no side effects. You’re making it up. You should be a writer; you’d make a really good one. My meds didn’t affect you. It’s your personality, Miss.”

Scream at him; a primal, guttural scream that would shake his desk and make the dandy receptionist outside jump in her swivel chair. You can do it, Irene. Grab his snazzy tie – oh, look, there’s a black ink stain on it – and slam his head onto the X-rays laid in front of him. Do it.

The doctor goes on. Irene looks up, fingers still tapping away, and notices the plaque this man (who could pass as her father for heaven’s sake, why was he being so rude?) flaunts on the wall behind him. Snatch it away and smash his brains in. Watch him spew blood onto your clothes and laugh. Release your anger with him on him. He deserves it.

“And could you stick to what I tell you next time? Don’t go asking for blood tests I didn’t request, simply because you’re worried. Stop worrying, Miss.”

Have you ever tried to relax? It’s a paradox. Isn’t that a quote from Rick & Morty? Does Irene watch that? The disturbing images on that show fit the ones that run through her head daily.

What about Happy Tree Friends? Now that's a show Irene would love. How she’d cherish taking a chainsaw to the doctor’s gray hairs – or maybe stuff it in his big, round belly, make a mess of his intestines.

Fun.

She smiles as he reminds her that she should come in next week for a follow-up. Eat more of my money, you rude, fat fuck. That’s capitalism for ya. Or was this sexism? The dismissal of everything Irene complained about certainly felt like it.

The receptionist meets Irene with dazzling white teeth. Is she trying to blind the patients? Is she flirting or something? Why the big, air-head smile? Supposed to make people want to kill you less?

Irene hands her too much money (do I have the right change? Do I need some for gas later?) and thinks that maybe this is capitalism after all. The receptionist’s tight bun would look nice wrapped around that gazelle neck. Crush her. Drop her body onto the shiny tiles (did they just mop this?) and sit on her ribs. Punch those white teeth out. Step on and break them. Oh, she can practically hear the splendid sound tickle her ears.

Irene – sigh, I regret that name – tucks her purse away to leave.

The floor is too clean, it’d be hard to get the blood out of it, but it would look so much more beautiful with that wet, red color staining it.

Down the stairs, we go, out into the world, and as for those visions; mom’s the word.

#writeblr #writblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing #absurd #horro #horror writing #gore writing #cw: gore #call of the void #l'appel du vide #blurb #writing prompt

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urgirlielexa · 5 months

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Real

#l'appel du vide #urgirlielexa #real life

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khaleesiofalicante · 13 days

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“This whole thing is so extra,” Max rolls his eyes, watching Emma Watson enter the Palace.

“If you think this is extra, just wait for his coronation,” Uncle Jace chuckles.

“We’ll only be invited if Dad wins the re-election and if I’m not dead,” Max notes, which Uncle Jace doesn’t seem to find funny. So, Max swiftly changes the subject. “What’s the difference between an investiture and a coronation anyway? Isn’t it literally the same thing?”

“Not really,” the man shakes his head. “An investiture is the acceptance of a position, and a coronation is the official ascension to the position. So, today he accepts the role of being the next King of France, but on his coronation, he officially becomes the King of France.”

“So, what you’re saying is, this could’ve been an email?” Max rolls his eyes again.

It's here! You can now read the first chapter of the Mavid RWRB AU here on ao3 :)

#okay byeeeee #LDV #l'appel du vide #mavid rwrb au #my fics

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banksreads · 1 year

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“Do you ever stand at the edge of a cliff or a balcony,” she asked, “and have this moment where you wonder what it would feel like to jump?”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Kind of thrilled at the idea that you’re one step from death?” She squeezed my shoulders. “One step…” she said. “And everything changes?”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “It symbolizes a need to engage in self-destructive behavior. It’s not that uncommon.”

While driving, we think, even for just a moment, about jerking the steering wheel into oncoming traffic or leaping off the balcony of a ship and into the abyss of the black water below. They’re passing thoughts and little dares we allow our psyche, because we’re tired of not living and we want the fear. We want to remember why we want to live.

And some of us were more tempted than others at the thrill of how, in the moment, everything could change. Of how it’s not about who we are but what we are, and animals don’t apologize for whatever they need to do to survive.

“There’s a French phrase for it,” she said. “L’appel du vide.”

I looked up at her, her pink lips misty with hot water.

“That’s what binds us,” she told me.

“Who?”

“Our family.”

Our family?

“Kai, Banks, Michael, Rika, Will, Alex…” she went on. “You and me. We all hear it. L’appel du vide. The call of the void.”

I stopped, gazing at her.

“The call of the void,” I murmured.

Was she right? Was that what bound us together? Like recognizes like, after all, and we lived in that need to go a step further and feel everything we were capable of. The fear was terrifying, but coming out the other side redefined our reality.

“I like it,” I told her.

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white-poppie · 9 months

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໒꒰ྀི ˶• ༝ •˶ ꒱ྀི১₊˚⊹♡

#🗯: letters #poppies 💫#I LOVE MY READERS SO MUCH #YOU GUYS DONT GET IT #GRAHHHHHHHH #*tears myself apart*#white poppie talks #໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ #l'appel du vide #on wattpad

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annakayy · 2 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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nugothrhythms · 1 year

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“Fall from Grace” by Colorado Springs-based deathrock band WitchHands off of their 2019 EP L’appel du Vide

#deathrock #deathrock revival #nu deathrock #deathrocker #WitchHands #Fall From Grace #L'appel du Vide #music #Colorado Springs #Colorado goth #Colorado deathrock #2019

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haniawritesthings · 1 year

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WIP: L'appel Du Vide, a story in three parts

A Yellowjackets Jackie lives AU

"Hunger wasn’t the issue. Jackie knew hunger well, had befriended it, let it make its home within her. It had become a comfort rather than a hindrance and her body simply didn’t know how to let go of it. Anything even resembling a carbohydrate purged itself from her, unsettling her stomach with its unfamiliarity. Meat was out of the question, there were too many memories, nightmares entangled with the smell of blood and the taste of flesh. The only things that managed to go down anymore were chalky nutritionist-supplied protein shakes, a medley of vitamins and sleeping pills that burnt as they slid down Jackie's throat. They were the only saving grace in her life anymore."

#Yellowjackets #L'appel du vide #my wips #my writing #this fic is about trauma and more importantly lesbian awakenings

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