satorushandmaiden

[satorushandmaiden]

to the young who want to die by Gwendolyn Brooks

[satorushandmaiden]

Losing you.

(Fyodor Dostoevsky x reader? TW: Angst, Death, tears, grief, loss. +Dying reader. 16th post.)

You have known Fyodor Dostoevsky for quite a while now. But finding out you're dying is just something unexplainable for Fyodor himself. As someone who's very distant— turning into a much more upset and tired person upon finding out your condition. He whispered your name as he was sitting on a chair near your hospital bed with his hand on your head to stroke you Knowing you're about to leave him, you've now finally seen his vulnerability. But was it worth it when it's the last time, too? “Fyodor..” You muffled, gazing at him with a sad expression — leaning your head onto his touch as if it's the only thing that could keep you alive but no..that wasn't the point at all. Going as far as to placing a hand to his wrist, not wanting him to let go — but also not wanting to go just yet. A tear ran down Fyodor's face as he gently stroke your hair. He couldn't believe this is the last night that you two will be together— He muttered out your name again softly as he stared at your eyes, his own eyes slowly filling with more tears. “Just..just close your eyes and promise me—” His voice filled with sadness and defeat. He tried to hide it for you, and at least make you feel at ease for the remaining of what time you have left. He pauses, looking at you for more seconds. Your eyes were so beautiful despite how tired and weak you were looking, there was still the spark of life and it made Fyodor's heart ache more. He took a hold of your hand and held it close to his chest with a small frown as he leaned his head close to your forehead and closed his eyes as well. “Promise what..?” You were in a state of semi-consciousness, your heartbeat growing slower and slower as your breaths grow shallow— the clock on the wall was ticking away. “Promise me you'll still remember me.” Fyodor kept his eyes shut as he hugged your hand close to his chest, trying to keep it in place so that he won't let you slip away. The clock kept ticking and both of your heartbeats growing much slower. Time had become a meaningless concept as all there was was the two of you and the sound of the beeping monitor. But how will you remember him if you'll pass away? Maybe in the afterlife or..or..as a spirit or ghost that'll watch over him... “Promise.” You cracked a small, weak grin at him as you felt your eyelids growing heavy. This was not..a wonderful experience at all — to finally see him vulnerable for the first time will end up being the LAST time. As your heartbeats grew even more sluggish, Fyodor felt you slip away into unconsciousness as for the first time he's finally seeing you get so weak and tired. It was something he definitely hated. The only comfort he had was holding your hand as you lay there slowly becoming unconscious. Slowly, he kept stroking your hair and he muttered silently to himself as he frowned. Slowly, Fyodor realized you've finally gone unconscious. He sighed as he looked you in a heartbreaking way, tears streaming down his cheeks as he stared at your tired and exhausted face. He kept stroking your hair over and over again as his fingers run the tips of your hair over and over— as if he was trying to prevent your soul from leaving your body. Your body was now lifeless and you just layed there, your heartbeats growing into a faint line on the monitor. Yet, Fyodor still caressed your hair, trying to bring some warmth to your cold hand and keep you there with him. He held your hand tightly in place to his chest, as an attempt to convince your heart to somehow keep beating. Time was no longer being a concept for Fyodor. Fyodor refused to accept it. He still sat on that chair close to your hospital bed, holding your hand in place, stroking every single strands of your hair and refusing to believe you're leaving him— the only time he actually had been vulnerable to you and not hiding his feelings anymore was your final moments spent together and it's not fair.

[satorushandmaiden]

[satorushandmaiden]

unstoppable force (desire to write) vs immovable object (tired)

[satorushandmaiden]

― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

[satorushandmaiden]

― Ivan Turgenev, Fathers and Sons (translated by George Reavy)

[satorushandmaiden]

khkjhgnkmml- looking down on me. Yes.

FERAL GOJO

[satorushandmaiden]

some of my collection 💿🎧

[satorushandmaiden]

🍂 september poems 🍂

September 1913, William Butler Yeats

The Imprint of September Second, Ethan Gilsdorf

September, Joanne Kyger

Drowning in September, Eric Pfeiffer 

September, H Stuart

September Tomatoes, Karina Borowicz

One September Night, Franco Fortini

September Sunday, Lucille Broderson

September, 1918, Amy Lowell

September Midnight, Sara Teasdale

Monday, September 25, 2006, Susan Schultz

One September Afternoon, Leo Dangel

[satorushandmaiden]

― Franz Kafka, Blue Octavo Notebooks

[satorushandmaiden]

― Franz Kafka, Blue Octavo Notebooks

[satorushandmaiden]

[satorushandmaiden]

For moment it felt like her eyes were only big enough to see him and him only. To trace his outline, his eyes and smile while she dare move an inch because it could distrub what's in front of her.

[satorushandmaiden]

Sherlock Holmes, dumbfuck manchild who is obsessing over someone because said someone seems to be obsessing over him.

[satorushandmaiden]

bob dylan fans be like i love this song because his voices sounds like he just smoked a pack of cigarettes and the harmonica is really loud and the lyrics make me sob and question anything i’ve ever thought

[satorushandmaiden]

…aha ha ha…

[satorushandmaiden]

Jennifer Chang, from "Dialogues (Against Literature)"