Empty_Bagel
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Without a word, he listened to the frail heartbeat, echoing like great earthquakes that shattered his malleus and crushed his incus. He counted in his head for 15 seconds, then multiplied by 4. The numbers jumped up and then fell down, and then fell up, and jumped down. And after they ceased to change, he still laid there, unmoving, for 60 seconds. Because this was the only thing he could offer, now that he didn't have anything left.
But it was a lie, most likely. Or maybe it wasn't. He could've laid there for 60 seconds, or 6 seconds, or 40 days and 40 nights. It didn't matter. For him, this was eternity. -
What Makes Us Human Is the Constant Chase of the Holy and Divine by Empty_Bagel
Fandoms: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs
18 Nov 2023
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"Someone's eager, I see. But it's surprising, really," Dazai, seemingly lost in thought, swiftly brushed off Fyodor's request. "I'd never accuse you of taking interest in such vile acts."Very well; I'll play with you this game of cat and mouse if that's what your heart desires.
"Unfathomable are the nuances of the human psyche, Dazai."
"I really do find your psyche interesting, though. Didn't you say that our bodies are sacred temples just a few days ago?" Dazai didn't expect an answer, really; the question was asked out of pure malice, and he presumed his cellmate would know this by now. But Fyodor either didn't notice or didn't care for his intent.
"Over time, unused temples will rot from the inside—when that happens, they must be destroyed and built anew."
"Oh, I see how it is now! You just want me to wreck you, destroy you in the worst way possible, so I can further your delusion of belonging amongst the saints."
How ironic it was—the question Dazai wanted to know the answer for Fyodor laughed off with nothing but a small chuckle.
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Kurapika found themself being pulled even closer to Leorio, who then placed the boy’s hand on his shoulder, catching their other hand into his own, and - in a dance-like manner - made their way to the bed.
Kurapika was then gently pushed down onto it, strong hands still guiding them through the movements.
With a flushed face, they made themself comfortable on the pillows they were thrown on, trying to hide their embarrassment.
In the meantime, Leorio toyed with their earring, still hovering over them.
"May I?" he asked, gazing over Kurapika's pants, voice hoarse.
Kurapika's eyebrow twitched before they spoke.
"Ye-yeah..." That's not it. That's not it, Leorio.
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atelophobia
/ˌætəˈloʊfiə/– the fear of imperfection, of never being good enough
❋❋❋
“What is a god?”
“A god is a perfect being who was worshipped by humans. Some people say that the universe revolves around them, like the Great–”
“Oh, perfect – so like you, Sua!”
Bookmarked by Empty_Bagel
16 Jan 2026
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monkeyfillet, "atelophobia"
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Magdalena dies, and lives, and dies.
(Once upon a time, a lady came across a broken machine.)
Bookmarked by Empty_Bagel
15 Jan 2026
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Amazing, jaw-dropping, excellent, exquisite, zajebiste, wow
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[written for rarepair week 2021 on tumblr - prompt: historical]
It had been Francis’s idea to head south for a bit, and it had been his suggestion that morning to spend the day at the beach. “You need to rest,” he’d said, “and the warm air will your lungs good.” Feliks hadn’t complained—he was sick of Paris, and the warm air did make it much easier to breathe…he’d missed the sea, too.
It’s the wrong sea, though, he thought.
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In sickness and in health, for better or worse...Mizi's dream has always been to marry Sua, and Mizi's dream has always been Sua's dream. Even if Sua's family is the weird kind of rich with family traditions and rules and rituals, rituals like playing board games at midnight according to the will of some family ancestor or benefactor called Anakt...
AU inspired by the movie Ready or Not
Bookmarked by Empty_Bagel
16 Sep 2025
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honeyring, "to have and to hold"
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Mizi was raised to be admired, not loved. Polished until she gleamed, displayed like a painting behind glass.
And then, she met Sua. A girl dressed in white, the perfect doll. She was silent. She was still. She was Hers.
But dolls don’t laugh and they don’t hum. Dolls don’t get to choose. So when Sua starts to change, Mizi doesn’t know if she’s falling in love or unraveling, or both.
She calls it devotion. Worship. Something holy.
After all—if belief in God is human, then so is this.
Her god.
Her universe.
Bookmarked by Empty_Bagel
22 Aug 2025
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kaelila, "Collection & Containment"