#the abyssal: demian

[moonlitdiane]

THE KISS OF DEATH — an abyssal fic.

1,968 words // Demian x Sol

I finally finished my gift for @itsbluesaint of their MC for the abyssal and Sol. As usual, the abyssal is an IF written by @theabyssal. I've been writing this since July aaaaaaa because of adhd and college.

Peace was rare for a God and so was silence. Demian accepted that fact a time too long ago to remember. All he knew was the ever present feeling of melancholy and fleeting moments of intimacy. All he ever really knew was deafening silence.

Even now, as he sat alone on a lush hill, surrounded by flowers and life that he could only dream of creating, it was silent. Nature is rarely ever silent. The world wasn’t made for silence, Vaal once told him. It was made for the ever changing complexity of life. It was chaotic in an organized, streamlined order.

Demian yearned to be surrounded by the messiness of life but he was perpetually surrounded by still silence. Again, nature was never silent. It was only silent when there was a predator, a dangerous creature walking its grounds. The God of Death is always surrounded by silence. As though Hylaria itself was holding its breath in his presence.

There was only one piece of Hylaria that was never scared of him, that looks him straight in the eyes and continues to exist in front of his face. Only the sun can do that. Only the sun can make the god of Death himself squint in annoyance one second and mesmerized the next.

Only the sun can treat death like everyone else and burn him so shamelessly. Only the sun could love the moon enough to let him borrow his light.

There was only one piece of Hylaria that loved him without condition, that looks him straight in the eyes and love him so boldly, so brightly, so painfully. Only Sol can do that.

Demian couldn’t force himself to bask in the warmth of sunset, so instead, he quietly looks over the field of golden roses that surround him instead. Little pocket sunlights, little love—little paradise that could fit in the palm of his cold hands.

It was terrifying, what he felt. Death wasn’t allowed to love, death took what you love. Death wasn’t allowed to be happy, death took what made you happy.

It burns, dear Creator, he burns.

Peace was rare for a God and so was joy. Sol didn’t want to accept that fact. Sol wanted to feel the salt water against his skin, he wanted to feel the gentle kiss of fireflies on his cheeks, and the overwhelming pressure of air in his lungs. Sol wanted to feel alive.

That’s why he found himself a comfortable, almost perfect position next to Death.

Because what makes you feel more alive than to love? Isn’t that looming knowledge of love doomed so very sweet on the tongue of a God who could have anything he asks for?

Isn’t that the very sign that he is as human as the mortals he shaped from his very own palms? Isn’t complication and yearning and heartbreak such integral to one’s existence?

Now, in the presence of gods, who basically represented two opposing forces, Hylaria was in a weird, almost unstable state. It wanted to rot, degrade, fold over onto itself, but it also wanted to flourish, bloom, and grow. Hylaria wanted to destroy itself in the most beautiful but terrifying ways possible.

Damien grimaced as he became hyperaware of what was happening. He couldn’t stay. No, he couldn’t let himself ruin something that Sol worked so hard on. He couldn’t let himself stain such a holy creation.

And as he moved to get up—run away from the warmth of the sun, warmer hands moved up to keep him where he sat.

“And where are you going, sunshine?” Sol’s voice lacked the humor a question like that usually held. There was anxiety, though. An overwhelming sense of uncertainty. Knowledge that this was the first time things might not go in his favor. Was love usually this painful?

Was devotion usually this brutal?

Damien felt his throat run dry and his jaw tighten.

“I’m…” Death was quiet, he was soft, and he was afraid.

Molten gold eyes stared up at him, waiting patiently for an answer. He was always so patient. Even through the numbing nights and unbearable winters, Sol was always there to reach out, to caress Demian’s cheeks. To catch him.

“Stay, my love,” Sol mumbled.

“Stay?” Demian questioned him. “… my love?”

There hasn’t been a single soul who exists, who has existed, and will exist who ever wanted him to stay. No one ever wants Death to stay. No one ever wants to just sit down with him and hear his stories, his thoughts, and listen to the prayers he has no other God to whisper to but himself.

Such are the woes of being an omnipotent being—you cannot depend on another mythical existence to fix your problems for you. He was the mythical existence that fixed problems, maybe in less favorable ways than most mortals preferred.

“Stay,” Sol’s gently guided him back to his side and no matter how much Death’s body wanted to refuse, it was as though his still, unbeating heart was trying to fight for a place.

“Can you do that for me?” the question was simple, but Demian knew what it meant.

The dark-haired God glanced over to where their hands connected.

“Okay,” his answer was quiet, barely above a whisper—but the winds heard it, the world heard it, and most importantly, Sol heard it.

Sitting next to him felt like everything right and wrong at the same time. Sitting next to him felt like blasphemy—a right he could never bring himself to claim was his. It would be so easy to act selfish for a moment, for a second, for just a heartbeat, but could he risk that?

“Darling, do you see all of those roses?” Sol grinned.

“How can I not?” Demian mumbled and yet, a ghost of a smile played on his lips, dark eyes once again soaking in a sight he’s seen a million times. “Sometimes I think this field shines brighter than the stars in the skies.”

Quietly, softly, Sol reached out to pick one particularly golden rose, sweats of dew perfectly spread all over its petals.

“I made these for you,” though he tried handing the flowers to Demian, the God of Death refused.

“I destroy everything I touch, Sol,” he tried reminding him but he choked on those words. It hurt to admit out loud. Everything. Everything he’s ever loved, he has destroyed with the same two hands who only want to learn how to love.

“Please hold these for me, starlight,” Sol quietly pleaded, “can you do that for me?”

“Are you sure?” Demian’s voice trembled.

“Never have I ever before,” the sun God caressed his cheeks.

Hesitantly, Demian’s icy fingers wrapped around the flower’s delicate stem and he expected it to crumble in his hands, to disappear into ashes, to mock him with something he already knew. Not even Hylaria can love him back.

What he didn’t expect was for the flower to almost embrace his hands. It glowed bright and strong, as though assured in the safety that he, the god of death, brought it.

Pale eyes couldn’t believe what they were seeing. Hesitant to tear his gaze away from the rose, fearing that if he did, it would wilt just as everything else did, but he eventually looked back up at Sol, who was watching him intently, a wobbly smile on his lips.

“I told you,” his sun eventually spoke, “I made these for you.”

“Oh,”

That was all he could say. What could he say? What was there to say? What was he supposed to feel? All he wanted to do was to let his hand grip the stem tighter, tighter, tighter until the rose was crushed into nothing.

He couldn’t bring it in himself to do it, however. There really is a difference between being the god of death and being the god of death.

“What’s been going on with you lately, dove?” Sol brought Damien back to Hylaria, carefully brushing back long black strands from a blushing pale face.

“I’m always like this,” Demian chuckled dryly.

“But you’ve been acting different,”

“I don’t know anymore, Sol,” the god admitted. Was this defeat, then? To admit ignorance of the self?

He’s been questioning himself, Hylaria, and the creator lately. He’s been questioning his purpose, his right to exist, and his right to love.

Being strong was exhausting, he decided. Being the god of death was unfair.

“My existence is painful, but it is necessary and I feel like I can’t complain,” Demian continued. “The world is on fire and no one else but you can save me.”

A confession of insecurity and love. That’s what it was. Not even a god can handle such mundane problems.

A moment of silence permeated through Hylaria once more. The same silence the two gods have grown accustomed to. A silence Sol could’ve left alone, but he didn’t. As always, he didn’t.

A hand on the cheek and a heart breaking at the seams, Sol leaned forward, but he didn’t close the gap between their lips, yet.

Oh, this was happening. Oh creator, this was happening.

“May I?” Sol whispered.

“Please?” Sol begged.

“Please,” Demian closed his eyes.

Sol gladly closed the gap between them. That pesky, thread thin gap separating two bodies of the same soul.

Kissing Sol still felt like everything right and wrong at the same time. It still felt like blasphemy but creator, this was a sin. He would stay on his knees for forever. Even if in some way, the creator themself confirmed that he had no right to taste the sweetness of his lover’s tongue or how his name sounds like a sacred hymn sang by Sol’s voice, Demian would let himself face the consequences if it experiencing all of that all over again.

Demian already knew Sol’s lips were as soft as the inside of a rose but it still gave him goosebumps. Two familiar hands holding him closer, as close as their physical forms would allow.

Dear creator, it terrified him just how much he was willing to do—willing to sacrifice and poison—for Sol. Demian was ready to cause Hylaria’s downfall and revel in its ruins if it meant having keeping Sol’s heart forever.

Their lips danced a dance humans have taught them, a form of love unfamiliar to great beings. They could go on like this for forever if they wanted to. Breathing wasn’t a necessity for them, but they needed to part. To part was an acknowledgment, that there are things bigger than them, things that they needed to do for the sake of millions of lives.

Hesitating to pull themselves apart from each other, Sol kept their foreheads touching, gently grabbing the back of Demian’s neck to keep him where he sat.

“Life is incomplete without death as I am incomplete without you,” Sol mumbled—quiet enough for no one but Demian to hear. A promise. A reminder. A truth.

The god of death closed his eyes once more but when he could no longer feel Sol’s presence in front of him, warm breath fanning against his face, he tried opening them only to be met with darkness. A rising panic fills his chest.

No.

What was happening? What did he do? What—?

And Demian’s head was filled with that dreadful feeling once more. That feeling of his body being wrapped up like a snake squeezing their prey. His lungs were filled up with something other than fresh air. His hands bled. Creator, they won’t stop bleeding.

A nauseating vertigo hit Demian, and he could finally open his eyes once more.

Silence. Familiar silence.

The drip, drip, dripping of water greeted him once he woke up.

Welcome back to reality, god of death.

[paperzombiie]

i've been trying to fight the burn out and draw a bit more about Nohreh's first encounter with Abe, idiot fell for the oldest trick in the sea and Chili Pepper almost had a heart attack

also, the boys are bonding and slowly opening up to each other :)c

[gameguides]

Nevermore W Codes, 2023 May (DAILY!)

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[ayyaaa101]

Astro Notes Natal🌸🌸🌸🌸

🕸 The more Square aspects someone has on their natal chart The stronger their attitude or the way they rub off on people. -kpop song that represents that vibe

🕸 Pisces placements have the prettiest softest eyes I've ever seen 12th house placements as well but not as much. -Kpop song that represents that vibe

🕸 Virgo and Gemini as well as Scorpio placements most likely in big 3 and in Mars have the best comebacks and they know where to hit you and where it will hurt the most. 😬 -Kpop song that represents this vibe

🕸 The placements that have the most calming affect at least for me are Libras, Cancers, Taurus, and Pisces. -Songs that represent this vibe

🕸 I've noticed that fire placements especially Leo's have a thing for virgo placements? -Song that represents this vibe p.s don't clown me for this🥲🤣

🕸Sagittariuses have the most addicting looks you just can't stop staring at them, very eye catching. Example-

Niki🌟

Hangyul (My ult....shhhh)

Sunghoon😑😐😶...... I'll stop now.

🕸Sagittariuses are also the sign that has the life path of spirituality that's why they most likely enjoy astrology because it ther life path/discovery. -Kpop song that represents this vibe

🕸Idk why but most smut FF (Fanficton) I've noticed have ended up being Scorpio placements.

🕸I've also noticed most Cancer placemats are extremely nosey and gossip a lot from what I've seen more than the stereotypical Geminis.

🕸Leo placements are some of the most chill placements along with Sagittarius Idk why? There pretty easy to get along with as well. -Kpop song that represents this

(Chill little song🎵)

🕸 Aquarians seem to be like a lot among other people.

🕸Gemini Mars might consider teaching as a Career in mind. They always have thoughts of working two or more jobs/careers and I know this because I'm one.

🕸Sagittariuses always have a reason for something in a debate that is very much credible even if they are still wrong 😑 Its because their sister sign / opposite sign is Gemini and Geminis love debate and need it in their life and they always come with the hard proof🔥🔥

⚠️DO NOT RE POST OR STEAL GIVE CREDITS Like and Reblog⚠️

*Credits to the owners of the drawings

Happy Halloween 🎃👹✨

Please give love to this post 💖💖💖

[staydawn]

Underrated Kpop Songs

Downtown Baby - BLOO

Nirvana - Sik-K

Before The Dawn - P1harmony

Rose, Scent, Kiss - Daehwi

Goodbye - 2ne1

Gravity - Ong Seongwu

Deadstar - Ash Island

Wait Wait Wait - KUN (ik it's not kpop, but I had to put it here)

The Crown - Super Junior

Paranoid - Ash Island

Swamp Of Despair - Black6ix

begin' - Yoojung

Moondance - Jeon Woong

Moon - (G)I-dle

Sage - Onlyoneof

Witch - Good Girl

Red Moon - Kim Wooseok

Ruby - Woozi

Different - Woodz

Into The Abyss - Suran

Cassette - Demian

(the gif is from the anime 'A Silent Voice')

[aijee]

mwc: ksdfjkldsfjsd well hopefully this made sense and i didnt take up too much of ur precious time with my nonsensical rambles. also i find it super cute that like us anons have like names now hehe (i.e murder mystery anon). i hope that i can pop in soon, it always fascinates me that like i can send out these things and like get a response. also if i forget to click anon its okay, i dont actually use tumblr 4 anything else n e way, i type as i realize i probs forgot to anon entry no.4 >///< (5)

(5/5)

As poor and infrequent of a reader I am in most cases, I really do love reading my asks and comments! Makes me feel less like I’m just talking or posting into a void with all my own nonsensical thoughts and words hahahaha

I LOVE the idea of merging K-Pop with actual literature (I am an unapologetic bitch for BTS’s Blood, Sweat, and Tears era largely for the fact that it was inspired by Hermann Hesse’s Demian). You have certainly struck a very specific chord in my heartstrings of guilty pleasures, mwc anon. Or finch anon? I also think it’s very cute y’all have nicknames. 🥰 

Just—WW being an underground art dealer with a soft spot for art appreciation but is also detached from modern pop culture and MG just being some lowkey social media-famous art history hipster model n shit AND THEN THEY BOND OVER ART in their own little bubble away from their stressful jobs is. So. Beautiful. AND THEN THE TENSION of not knowing each other’s double-lives?? (More so in WW’s case I guess lmao.) I literally have no IQ points in the fine arts despite loving the idea of being super intellectual in the field.

You’re fully welcome to pop in whenever! It is definitely reassuring to feel like your ideas aren’t just rotting in a random computer folder or being lost to the Internet abyss—that someone is actually listening to those ideas. That’s how I feel about reader’s responses to my fics! And occasionally to my tumblr posts!

Thanks for sharing such a wonderful idea with me, I am obsessed with it.

[nerdishstroberi]

Not many people nowadays know what man is. Many feel it and therefore die more easily, [...].

Every person's life is a journey toward himself, the attempt at a journey, the imitation of a path. No person has ever been completely himself, but each one strives to become so, [...], according to his abilities. Each one carries with him to the end traces of his birth, [...]. Many a one never becomes a human being, but remains a frog, lizard, or ant. But each one is gamble of Nature, a hopeful attempt at forming a human being. We all have a common origin, the Mothers, we all come out of the same abyss; but each of us, a trial throw of the dice from the depths, strives toward his own goal. We can understand one another, but each of us can only interpret himself.

Hermann Hesse's Demian

2018/20mar22 12:37 am

[jaykayy]

THE ONE THAT SENT THEM STRATOSPHERIC: “BLOOD SWEAT & TEARS”

Tropical house may have been a global trend that K-Pop came late to, but BTS jumped on it for “Blood Sweat & Tears”, combining elements of the genre with the more hyped-up sounds of moombahton for a song that was sexy yet cerebral, and that completely stepped off the path they’d so carefully carved. From the gritty, everyman reality of “I Need U” and “Run”, BTS now found themselves in a baroque fantasy of blindfolds and absinthe – and even if you didn’t care that it borrowed its story from Hermann Hesse’s 1919 Jungian fiction Demian, you could be seduced by the sinuous choreography, extravagant sets and careful close ups that celebrated every inch of their handsome visages.

“Blood Sweat & Tears” was a step forward mentally, physically, and emotionally, a break-up song that flung itself into the abyss where the dark lyrics were juxtaposed by the gold dust of the monster hook. Moving away from the angsty teenage kicks of their previous two albums was a risk, but this is a group whose entire career has been spent proving people wrong. So it was gleefully thrilling that “BST” and its parent album WINGS scored a clutch of South East Asian-based Best Album, Best Video, and Best Male Group music awards, spattered in the shock of fandoms who couldn’t quite believe a group from a small company could derail the tradition of wins by K-Pop’s ‘Big 3’ entertainment agencies (YG Entertainment, SM Entertainment, and JYP Entertainment).

In its wake, and despite “BST” being released last October, trop-house has become ubiquitous in K-Pop, with track after track still seeking the same chart-topping alchemy and the trend showing no sign of fading away.

[undergroundsky]

Where the consumed dragon king has gone to hide.

The focus of the real dread rears to the surface once again, and the ones who suffer for it are submerged in the swelling undertow. There are a set of choices to be made, to be discarded, and the self that cannot commit to either ends up lost in its regrettable self-unawareness.

Kaneki’s revelation, as it were, probably comes at the price of feeling as though a part of his very existence was excised. This is him confronting the unvarnished absurdity and simplicity of his existence in its most primitive form. The boy who bleeds black is not anybody’s king, not his own prisoner, but a fool that wants to delay death and serve life to another as he always had been. A fitting image, it should seem, for him to know that no fetters can make him forget that he’s painfully, ineluctably human.

Hence why it’s an admirably labyrinthine setup, to have him descend into this underworld as something closer to a demon followed by his horde of tempted, desperate fallen where gods were born to rise.

To elucidate, the ghouls that attempted to ambush Ayato leave him with what I perceive to be a far more ominous tidbit to chew on than the translation lets on:

“The Naagaraji destroyed everything.”

(Screw it, I’m eschewing the deliberately incoherent patois for clarity’s sake.)

If the abstruse speech of the underground dwellers is to be trusted, then "Naagaraji” is likely a nod at the Nagaraja, the three serpent god-kings that belong to a hierarchy of what is called the Eight Great Dragon Emperors responsible for the different dimensions of the creation of the universe in Buddhist and Hindu mythology. Their mother was Kadru, who gave birth to a sum of one thousand deities.

Of the three, a particular one that is revered by the name of Vasuki stands taller than the rest of his siblings. This is because the name in Japanese is transliterated as 和修吉, which is read as washukitsu. His mark on the world was left through the prodigiously noble act of allowing himself to be coiled around Mount Mandara to be used as a churning tool in the Sea of Milk in order to assist with collecting an immortality elixir.

The second worthy of interest is his eldest brother, Ananta (or Shesha), whose name means “endless” or “infinite.” What must be regarded as equally vital when considering these points is that both of those words translate to 永遠 (read as eien) in Japanese. It is said in the legends that Ananta resides among the seventh abyssal plane of Patala, the subterranean realm illustrated to be more exotic and beautiful than Svarga (heaven) itself. Accounts vary, but either Ananta or Vasuki possesses one thousand heads.

Perhaps it’s obvious by now what it is that I’m trying to get at here. This is the cogency of Ishida’s subtle yet resounding storytelling devices.

"A thousand minus seven.” A god, likely depicted by Ananta, removed from his resting place; he will soon return home.

That which Ananta symbolizes, eternity (永遠), and Nagachika written as 永近 — the first characters are identical and the second are direct opposites, wherein the former means “faraway,” the latter means “nearby.” More impressively, 近 doubles as a homophone for 地下, the word for “underground.”

Kaneki realizes that there was never hope of exceeding his mortal flesh, that he is dying. But, in his misfortune of being faced with the choices of protecting Touka and his child, or saving Yoriko to secure Touka’s total happiness, he is ready to be lured into making the same mistake from years ago — to do both — which would necessitate expediting his death timer despite Nishiki’s warnings. However, a great deal of cannibalism has the chance to delay it, to offer Kaneki a small window of that “immortality” that can only be a god-king’s right.

Hesse’s Demian revolves around the titular Max Demian causing the self-awakening of Emil Sinclair, the coming to terms with his liberty and purpose to live for himself. It’s all but canonically established that Hide is still alive. If Hide is analogous to Demian and Kaneki to Sinclair, then Hide’s job is not done; he will truly disappear after he manages to slam the progressive failure straight out of Kaneki’s torpid being, after Kaneki is able to live again.

Sprinting non-stop with the rampant tinfoiling, it’s possible that Hide’s reappearance will mean that he is to be devoured by Kaneki in this reality (rather than in his delusions or skewed memories) so as to ensure the extension of his lifespan as much as his body could permit it — through this, Kaneki will definitively break free of his eggshell, and they can figuratively, literally become two as one:

“Everything that has happened to me since has hurt. But sometimes when I find the key and climb deep into myself where the images of fate lie aslumber in the dark mirror, I need only bend over that dark mirror to behold my own image, now completely resembling him, my brother, my master.”

Observing the narrative of Tokyo Ghoul from this angle, it makes every measure of sense now in retrospect that Furuta vaunts the honoring of his “Washuu roots” when introducing the mysterious, mystical “dragon”—

—for it’s what Hide could be if he were a Washuu in disguise.

This, of course, doesn’t preclude the possibility of involving Shirazu (given the framing of the above scene) in Furuta’s scheme, though Kaneki’s misfortune and despair would be amplified to a dizzying degree by Hide’s revival as a draconic beast seemingly standing for the enemy. To surpass a god of limitless power is to swallow him whole and become his new vessel, ultimately contained in his own transcendence.