avocate-assia-dazai

[avocate-assia-dazai]

Okay just the first person made me wanted to react.

I think the little me, always thought somehow I wasn t gonna pass eighteen. It was something so obvious to me that I never truly think about it.

I ve always had plan for the future. But like a dream unrealistic life where I would see myself with NEVER believing it could happen. The simple feeling of future never cross my person because for me there was nothing more ridiculous then for me to live long (and I wouldn't have probably without religion).

But now I am eighteen, so that mean first everyone expect me to reach this particularly unrealistic dream the little me had made. And I suddenly have to assume that I ll live. I can t explain you how heavy and abnormal it feel to reach such an age, to live, be happy, be sad. Just the fact of still being conscious and realized that maybe in a few year I ll truky be an adult doing adult thing and drowning in other thing.

I think nothing scare me more then growing and becoming an adult. I don t even see the point in it. And I feel like I don t truly manage to explain precisely the feeling in my chest who s almost mocking me for having to face a future who for me would never come.

One of the weirdest thing about growing up suicidal is that you assume you have no future, you don’t even try to envision it because you see no point. So eventually, you start assuming everyone else sees nothing in your future either. Recently, my friend and I were talking and she said something about how at her wedding I could wear a suit or a dress as long as it matched her bridesmaid’s dresses because the butler of honor has to make a good impression. This hit me so hard because I had never realized before how other people thought about me. She said it so casually like it wasn’t even a hard decision, just a given fact. She loves me so much she saw me at her wedding, standing with her on one of the most important days of her life. And you know what? There are so many people who think about you that way. If that isn’t proof that you should keep going I don’t know what is.

[avocate-assia-dazai]

I m a bitch against my will I swear. I want to writte but study catch me like "hehe dream is for night"

bitches be like “I’m a writer” and then abandon their wip for months. it’s me I’m bitches.

[avocate-assia-dazai]

How realistic. Me doing the scene in my mind acting like my character like an insane person having schizophrenia while my little brother of one years old is saying "God where did you bring me" ( he can t speak this too come from my brain)

"How do you write such realistic dialogue-" I TALK TO MYSELF. I TALK TO MYSELF AND I PRETEND I AM THE ONE SAYING THE LINE. LIKE SANITY IS SLOWLY SLIPPING FROM BETWEEN MY FINGERS WITH EVERY MEASLY WORD THEY TYPE OUT. THAT IS HOW.

[avocate-assia-dazai]

Philosophy

(God know what else i'll put here)

Belong to escape

[avocate-assia-dazai]

Writtyear

( this was an october, who end up by last a whole year, but it does nice little novels)

☆wrote in 2023 :

One: Lovers to ennemies

Two: I'm trying my hardest

Three: Describe a fictif spicies

Four: I hate so much oving you

Five: Describe a landscape

Six: Waking up next to a dead body

[avocate-assia-dazai]

Bungou Stray dogs

☆Dazai Osamu :

☆ angst; ☾ fluff; ☆彡 comfort; ❁ dark content

[avocate-assia-dazai]

┕━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━┑ Presentation┍━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━┙

She, eighteen, french blog, dazai lover, hot chocolate addict and request open! I writte mostly fanfic or little novel (If it wasn't oblivious).

☆ rules ☆ m.list fanfic ☆m.list story ☆m.list random

© Avocate Assia Dazai, do not translate, steal, plagiarize or reupload my work!

[avocate-assia-dazai]

I think it's a good moment for a 'Bonjour~" Been a long time i haven't post anything, but i'll probably start all again now that exams are over. So as someone suggest it, i'll probably do another blog in french (Just for the beauty of the first try), i don't know if i'll post the same things, probably not the fanfic there, because i writte them in english, and porbably not my main novel that i'm too lazy to translate. But the usual "writtober", that i'm still doing since, a lot of time, will be posted on both. (now it's closer to a lot of tiny long story then anything, but anyway shh) Anyway, if you have any suggestion, idea, or just if you know how to make my post more aesthetic, i'm all ears Anyway 1.2: see yu guys!

[avocate-assia-dazai]

Fuck it I love it.

For me dazai is the type to treat you like any other relation. Light and without any feeling. And this scene would happened when he push you away, but you didn t leave. And he realize how much he crave you, how you have his unexpected existant heart in your hands.

He say that he love you to make you shut up, to laugh a thousand time. But right now he couldnt. He couldnt because this time it was real, deep. You were a sickness he couldnt get ride off.

He could have get married without any feelings, just for fun, pass the time. But never did he thought that he ll catch feeling to the point to be this miserable, to not even being able to leave you.

How scary is this for our Samu?~

sighs dreamily. I love vulnerable dazai and characterizing him! take a dazai character study <3 I'll let u guys decide who I should character study next in the comments ;p dunno if i like how i worded this I'm kinda bad at writing descriptive things like this😭

to me, it takes a person to not fall for his charm, in order for dazai to fall in love with you, you have to get him to realize and admit it—ignore his advances until you find him vulnerable, drunk, and clinging onto your clothes as you drag him away from the bar, shouting mini 'i love yous' while you pull him by the collar.

then confront and corner him until he's trying to mansplain his way out—advance forward, brushing up against his lips as your face inches closer to his. the forming blush on his face is a clear indicator that his facade is slipping, the voice cracks, and darting eyes are practically telling you that he's about to break.

all it takes is one accusation for him to burst, an explosive reaction taking place as he scrambles over himself, jittering words never lie—and neither was dazai. one more push, that's it. give him one more reason to break, a reason to take a step back and accept the situation—"why are you ignoring me? answer the question, osamu."

he breaks. dazai is scratching the wall behind him, teeth barring nervousness as his anxious gulp bops down. "i'm not," he tries to break away, his last resolve crumbling in the wedge of your fingers.

"you are."

"no i'm not."

"you are."

"no—"

"—yes."

by now, you could see the tears threatening to well up, his pupils glossy but never weak. he feels vulnerable, terrified, gross. disgusting for wanting to break down inside your arms. "i—" dazai doesn't have a voice to dismiss your claims anymore, all weak and cracky. "it's okay," you cup his hands, the lull of your warmth reminding him of his days back in lupin. "i won't judge you. i won't leave you. i won't lie to you. just tell me the truth, and i'll answer honestly."

what if dazai didn't want to hear the truth though? to know the fact that you may not reciprocate his feelings is already enough to warrant his shut down. eyes dulling, face going blank—"sorry," his voice is empty, never once have you thought to witness the brilliant dazai osamu shut down so fast. his refusal to communicate brought you back to square one.

dazai wasn't buff per say, but he did have some muscle in him that made him lean to a certain extent. you knew that you weren't going to overpower him by physical means, so that meant you had to act quickly and accordingly to get dazai to talk. "what're you sorry for? sorry for loving me?" direct and straight to the point.

that always seemed to be the best option when dealing with dazai osamu. his eyebags are prominent, the broken facade, now a sad one. "no," again, with his refusal. you already know by now that he's lying; truth in hand that he does love you. sighing, you break away. "oh, guess i was wrong then. see you tomorrow, sorry."

he doesn't inquire further, staring as you turn your back on him and walk away. dazai isn't sure what was with him, sure, he could be a little off the boat when it came to his emotions. but was he so down the sea, he couldn't swim back up and face the light? did he truly believe that night dwellers couldn't adapt to the light?

he didn't know. and legitimately, did not know what overcame his senses. "wait!" his shout echoes, your footsteps stopping and your silence making him nauseous. he does not know what overode his drive, but dazai is across from you, shouting, nearly into tears.

"you're leaving?" you could hear his unspoken words, just like that? averting your eyes, you nod your head. "yeah. like you wanted me to."

don't go. "why?" you need to stay. "because you wanted me to." no he didn't. he didn't—he didn't, he needed you, he wanted you, he wants to depend on you—"that's it?" his voice cracks. "yeah."

"why?"

"again, not forcing you—"

"—you're not!" his sudden outburst leaves you stunned a bit. you stood there, waiting for him to continue what he meant, but there was nothing. just heavy breathing and dazai's sniffles. finding nothing that was worth staying, you end up turning away, not noticing how dazai tenses up.

before you left, you wanted to get one last thing in; one thing you needed him to understand. "i'll leave if you want me to leave," and with that, your body starts moving, not giving dazai any time to process what you had just said.

had he been a split second to late, dazai wasn't sure that he'd be able to catch up to you. you hear him running, a bone crushing vice on your sleeve tugging you back. looking at dazai, you finally see it. the tears he refused to shed, the morbid expression he tried to hold in, and the thousand year worth of emotions he laid out on his face.

you didn't need to think twice about what he thought. no words were exchanged, dazai continued to silently cry as he wept shamelessly—"don't leave me." i love you.

[avocate-assia-dazai]

That s how all my stories work. A word? A situation? Now let s struggle to fin the beginning and the end of all this

Do other writers ever get this like, hyper-specific dialogue exchange drop into their brains and you know exactly where these character are standing and what they’re doing and how they’re saying these words but that’s all you get. You don’t have much other context and this specific moment that exists only at this time in your headspace??

[avocate-assia-dazai]

Okay so lets go. I m basically a person with a huge mouth, I can talk about anything during hours pretty easily, but there s still topics who got me feral :

1) Dazai (I don t need to argue here)

2) politic (I swear, I swear I m unstoppable)

3) bungou stray dogs theory (and all kind of geek stuff with theory in it)

4) Why men are terrible people

5) mental health/illness

And for those who need to follow all of this (thx raven by the way): @omitsuishere @foxzai

I saw this meme going around on twitter and I think it'll be perfect for this account.

List 5 topics you can talk on for an hour without preparing any material.

[avocate-assia-dazai]

So I writte a lot of fanfic that I ll post one day I promise. All about dazai for now but I believe one day I ll stop being this obsess.

Now let s talk, my favorite version of dazai is probably beast for sooooo much reason. I see myself marrying him. Anyway. I can t writte about him. Why ? Why can t I writte about my favorite character multiverse version ? I cried.

Like I can t explain you, I go to the hospital and one of my medication are artificial tears. Because I fucking don t manage to have tears.

But for dazai each time I open my computer or think about what I want to writte tears gather in my eyes like poof. I think I ll just talk to my doctor and say the solution to my disease is dazai? Like lmao, "delulu is the solulu" was never as true as now.

Anyway if anyone ask when I ll post again. I finish exams and i start writting and translating my work again. I ll maybe think of doing a French version of this blog because... Anyway acte 2, I ll also post those fanfic that I ve been hiding. And one day maybe when I ll get emotionally stable I ll write on beastzai.

[avocate-assia-dazai]

Guys dazai princess... Got something i can t describe. Something that make me wanna kiss each inche of his skin, and prépare a hot chocolate, and tease him about his dress.

That would be an Halloween fic i want to write. I won t. But i wish

[avocate-assia-dazai]

Listening to the advice of my incredible friend raven. I tried this. Can we say I m French to the end of the nails? ( or not since the 3/4 of the cakes are, but still a turquoise macaron. I m so happy)

TAG GAME

find out what cake you are LINK

— job hunting village

IM A CUPCAKE GUYS 😭👍

tagging : @ikzume @boyfhee @hoonvrs @hsgpoet @okwons @okwonyo @odxrilove @tyunni @goldenhypen @euncsace @bywons @jaeyunverse @100203s @wonryllis @lilacnini @shuamorollss @isoobie @stareesm

[avocate-assia-dazai]

Day 6: Waking up next to a dead body

Author's note: It's been truly long since i write anything. It's just an old text i finally end up (yeap i m going to continue my writtober's list). Who know maybe i'll post a bit more~

Synopsis: I think everything is in the title. The protagonist wake up next to a dead body under a beautiful night.

Number of words: a bit more then 1k (i write less? I'm surprise, but honestly vocabulary feel missing in this langage lol)

One inspiration, then another. I was breathing dead and suffocating alive. It was as if for me everything was meaningless, life was nothing but emptiness and despair. The only break here was pain and suffering. Death was the redemption i was chasing. Nothing should have happened this way. But everything did happened this way. Sometimes I have to tilt, and this time I bow. Even something as simple as death must not want me. The blood was cold, yet it had been boiling a second ago. I wondered if everyone had such cold, viscous blood, and yet so pleasant almost comforting.

I gazed up at the moon above me, looking straight into my eyes, the only witness to my agonizing desire. If she could speak, she'd probably laugh at my incompetence, or perhaps show some sympathy, some pity? But who am I to expect the Moon to take even the slightest interest in my miserable existence? I cut short this contact to turn away from this one-way exchange of eyes contact.

Feeling the blood stick to my skin as I rolled onto my side, the breeze cooling my envelope. The smell I hadn't noticed until now filled my nostrils. A metallic air, complex to describe, I'd never smelled anything like it, yet I couldn't escape the sent that surrounded me. This icy, nauseating air made me smile. Just a moment before I'd felt it as soft and warm. I decided to look at her, and delicately stretched out my fingers to touch her cold cheek.

She loved life so much. She did everything she could to make me contemplate the beauty behind what was my torment. All to make me stay by her side a little longer. But I loved death so much that I did everything to achieve my deliverance. To leave her as soon as possible. Finally, despite all her efforts, the heart of the one who wanted to live had stopped moving. As for the one who wanted to die, hers had never beaten so hard.

My gaze slid over the hole in her chest. Would the inside of my body resemble to that too? Could someone so alive hide the same emptiness as someone already dead? If I were to open myself in two, wouldn't I discover that behind this skin, already hammered by my desires, lies an even more putrid flesh that hides nothing human, nothing alive? I lifted my face just enough to take a closer look at the abyss, where the burgundy liquid had stopped pouring out.

"Why did you take that bullet, even though I was the one holding the gun?”

I wasn't waiting for an answer, I already knew it perfectly well. The answer that made me cringe at the mere thought of it: "Don't you think there are lots of beautiful things you haven't seen yet?” It was stupid, ridiculous, wasn't there just a lot of horrible things I hadn't suffered from yet? That single bullet I'd struggled so hard to find, she'd snatched it from me, stolen it from me, hoping to make me feel guilty. It was my dream she had snatched away, plunging me into her nightmare.

I tried to run away, to believe, to understand. But there was nothing to understand, nothing to try, nothing good to expect. For me, nothing had value. When I was surrounded by those I loved, paranoia cut off all breath. I never felt more alone than when I was laughing alongside them, unable to follow any conversation. But I hated being without company just as much, left with the person I loved and hated most: myself. I don't know what was worse than myself. Only suffering was powerful enough to occupy my mind enough to make me forget how detestably me I was.

Suffering, even it fled from me, leaving me alone to face reality. When I was about to fire that bullet, the only person with whom I could allow myself to be as much me as I wanted without risking a look of incomprehension, had snatched my deliverance.

I wish I'd disappeared right afterwards, that someone would come and rescue me, that someone would help me breathe. If humans are meant to live, then someone so inhuman is meant to perish. This simple wish, which I pursued as the only possible redemption, continued to elude me like sand one would try to collect with an open hand.

But when I pulled the trigger, the smell of gunpowder filling my lungs, which were still breathing perfectly, made me understand. There was no impact, and my gaze fell on an inert corpse lying in almost black grass, the night making me think I was delirious in my last moments.

Her lips were blue, and red had tinted her hair, the moonlight making her look like a fallen angel. I thought unfairly that it was my fault, but far too much her fault, and that somehow the most important thing was how I was going to end it for good. Or should I stay here? Waiting for someone to find me lying next to this dead body. I'd probably get locked up. Maybe by depriving myself of freedom to atone for a crimes who isn’t my crimes at all. I'd be able to die in peace, without having to wonder if life really have any worth, or if anyone will ever give me even a semblance of it.

No one's coming, whether to save me from myself, or to punish me for what she did.

I took an icy breath, filling my lungs with as much air as I could, before releasing it in a long, painful exhale. If this was a dream, make sure I never wake up; if it's a nightmare, make sure I'm someone else when I wake up; if it's reality, make sure my heart stops on the spot, without pain or agony, because my life has been one long, poignant one.

The more I looked at her mortified face, the more I prayed to be able to disappear at her side. Don't make this life even more painful by separating me from her, let me go in the embrace of this liquid that was hers, let me disappear with her gesture of love as my last memory, probably the only thing that proves I had any value, any shred of humanity.

I closed my eyes, let my muscles relax, and perhaps my beating heart, the only proof of life inside me, would eventually stop, and allow me never to suffer from being me again.

hope you enjoyed~ Every comment or critic is welcom!

[avocate-assia-dazai]

Day 6: Waking up next to a dead body

Author's note: It's been truly long since i write anything. It's just an old text i finally end up (yeap i m going to continue my writtober's list). Who know maybe i'll post a bit more~

Synopsis: I think everything is in the title. The protagonist wake up next to a dead body under a beautiful night.

Number of words: a bit more then 1k (i write less? I'm surprise, but honestly vocabulary feel missing in this langage lol)

One inspiration, then another. I was breathing dead and suffocating alive. It was as if for me everything was meaningless, life was nothing but emptiness and despair. The only break here was pain and suffering. Death was the redemption i was chasing. Nothing should have happened this way. But everything did happened this way. Sometimes I have to tilt, and this time I bow. Even something as simple as death must not want me. The blood was cold, yet it had been boiling a second ago. I wondered if everyone had such cold, viscous blood, and yet so pleasant almost comforting.

I gazed up at the moon above me, looking straight into my eyes, the only witness to my agonizing desire. If she could speak, she'd probably laugh at my incompetence, or perhaps show some sympathy, some pity? But who am I to expect the Moon to take even the slightest interest in my miserable existence? I cut short this contact to turn away from this one-way exchange of eyes contact.

Feeling the blood stick to my skin as I rolled onto my side, the breeze cooling my envelope. The smell I hadn't noticed until now filled my nostrils. A metallic air, complex to describe, I'd never smelled anything like it, yet I couldn't escape the sent that surrounded me. This icy, nauseating air made me smile. Just a moment before I'd felt it as soft and warm. I decided to look at her, and delicately stretched out my fingers to touch her cold cheek.

She loved life so much. She did everything she could to make me contemplate the beauty behind what was my torment. All to make me stay by her side a little longer. But I loved death so much that I did everything to achieve my deliverance. To leave her as soon as possible. Finally, despite all her efforts, the heart of the one who wanted to live had stopped moving. As for the one who wanted to die, hers had never beaten so hard.

My gaze slid over the hole in her chest. Would the inside of my body resemble to that too? Could someone so alive hide the same emptiness as someone already dead? If I were to open myself in two, wouldn't I discover that behind this skin, already hammered by my desires, lies an even more putrid flesh that hides nothing human, nothing alive? I lifted my face just enough to take a closer look at the abyss, where the burgundy liquid had stopped pouring out.

"Why did you take that bullet, even though I was the one holding the gun?”

I wasn't waiting for an answer, I already knew it perfectly well. The answer that made me cringe at the mere thought of it: "Don't you think there are lots of beautiful things you haven't seen yet?” It was stupid, ridiculous, wasn't there just a lot of horrible things I hadn't suffered from yet? That single bullet I'd struggled so hard to find, she'd snatched it from me, stolen it from me, hoping to make me feel guilty. It was my dream she had snatched away, plunging me into her nightmare.

I tried to run away, to believe, to understand. But there was nothing to understand, nothing to try, nothing good to expect. For me, nothing had value. When I was surrounded by those I loved, paranoia cut off all breath. I never felt more alone than when I was laughing alongside them, unable to follow any conversation. But I hated being without company just as much, left with the person I loved and hated most: myself. I don't know what was worse than myself. Only suffering was powerful enough to occupy my mind enough to make me forget how detestably me I was.

Suffering, even it fled from me, leaving me alone to face reality. When I was about to fire that bullet, the only person with whom I could allow myself to be as much me as I wanted without risking a look of incomprehension, had snatched my deliverance.

I wish I'd disappeared right afterwards, that someone would come and rescue me, that someone would help me breathe. If humans are meant to live, then someone so inhuman is meant to perish. This simple wish, which I pursued as the only possible redemption, continued to elude me like sand one would try to collect with an open hand.

But when I pulled the trigger, the smell of gunpowder filling my lungs, which were still breathing perfectly, made me understand. There was no impact, and my gaze fell on an inert corpse lying in almost black grass, the night making me think I was delirious in my last moments.

Her lips were blue, and red had tinted her hair, the moonlight making her look like a fallen angel. I thought unfairly that it was my fault, but far too much her fault, and that somehow the most important thing was how I was going to end it for good. Or should I stay here? Waiting for someone to find me lying next to this dead body. I'd probably get locked up. Maybe by depriving myself of freedom to atone for a crimes who isn’t my crimes at all. I'd be able to die in peace, without having to wonder if life really have any worth, or if anyone will ever give me even a semblance of it.

No one's coming, whether to save me from myself, or to punish me for what she did.

I took an icy breath, filling my lungs with as much air as I could, before releasing it in a long, painful exhale. If this was a dream, make sure I never wake up; if it's a nightmare, make sure I'm someone else when I wake up; if it's reality, make sure my heart stops on the spot, without pain or agony, because my life has been one long, poignant one.

The more I looked at her mortified face, the more I prayed to be able to disappear at her side. Don't make this life even more painful by separating me from her, let me go in the embrace of this liquid that was hers, let me disappear with her gesture of love as my last memory, probably the only thing that proves I had any value, any shred of humanity.

I closed my eyes, let my muscles relax, and perhaps my beating heart, the only proof of life inside me, would eventually stop, and allow me never to suffer from being me again.

hope you enjoyed~ Every comment or critic is welcom!

[avocate-assia-dazai]

“She knew she was really sad, when she stopped loving the things she loved.”

— Unknown