maybe all the signs were there-
maybe i just refused to see them.
after all, red flags just look like flags when you see them through rose colored glasses.
-why did i believe you when you said you'd never hurt me? c.r.
This snap is, in my opinion, a perfect sum up of the characteristics of these three.
First there's Asahi, the one who's always looking down in contemplation, reflecting on his actions, gauging their outcomes. Yes, he does tend to overthink a little, but then he's got Noya and good ol' "Negativity begone!" and the rest, to pull him out from that zone.
Next we have Daichi, focusing solely on the here and now. He thinks about tomorrow only after tackling down today. To change the future, you must after all, change the present that will too soon become a past you might regret, if you don't give it your all.
And of course to pull these two forward, we have Suga, the eternal optimist. Suga is the literal and typical example of some one who firmly believes that 'The sky is the limit'. He sees countless opportunities, endless possibilities, even when he's at his lowest, and also possess the ability to show them to others, and bring them out of their own dark hours.
A thinker. A pragmatist. A dreamer.
They fully balance each other, and that is why they're able to work so well together, achieve laurels, and keep climbing the rungs of success.
when love and war end
I've reached so far
yet I'm so behind
You've reached so far. I'm further, on hindsight.
You'd leave me behind
The race is all that matters
But what about after that night?
How would you look me in the eyes?
I know you. Ha. I know.
You'd say, "All is fair in love and war."
But you forget there are days
after the love and the war are over
Writing I’m a sucker for:
When a composed character breaks.
When the kind character finally snaps
Innocent character finally breaks and unleashes their evil side to protect their loved ones.
Holding everything in until the dam finally breaks and the boy/girlfriend holds her until the other falls asleep
reassuring small kisses to make the other feel better
When the character can barely talk because if they do, they’ll burst into tears. The feeling when your throat constricts in itself - it breaks my poor heart
Showering together. Nothing sexual, they’re just that comfortable together
“Everything’s gonna be okay.” Character A cradles a broken Character B as the world breaks around them
Forehead kisses. I repeat, forehead kisses.
Character A sacrificing themself to save their loved one. “Kill me instead, leave him/her alone.”
ANGRY. LOVE. CONFESSIONS.
The rain is always calling me saying - "come join , no one's gonna know you too are crying."
seems like a lot of people go missing from my hometown. almost every winter, it's somebody else dissappears, sometimes sevral people even . the only clue police ever find has been, every time, the missing persons shoes are found hung on this tree
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝐈 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬
Men think that all women want is a rich man with a handsome face.
I want a man who speaks in deep whispers, words full of sensual knowledge and wisdom dripping down like ichor, his words so compelling, like the pipe of the pied piper that I am willingly following him to my ruin.
He who treats me like glass, gentle caresses like he is afraid to break what is already damaged, maybe his sultry and soft touches might heal me after all.
He who notices when I have gone quiet. Reassurances on the tip of his tongue as it clashes with mine, and I am forced to gulp in the love.
He who carves his name with the caverns of his mouth, hands running across the places I think I am most unfitting. I can't help but whimper, only the moonlight has ever touched me so intimately, only the moonlight.
He who tells me every terrible thing he did, iridescent tears flowing down his eyes, head rested on my chest. I would kiss his eyelids and tell him that he could be an absolute abomination, a beast and yet I would choose him.
I would never ask him stupid questions like, "would you still love me if I were a worm?" I think that he thought I was someone worth his love in this life is more than a blessing.
Even when he would talk to prettier women, I would turn my eye around, yes I am insecure, but I would trust him with my life, hand him my beating heart and give a dagger. in his hand. Haven't I given too much already? Haven't people hurt me with things I gave them out of love already?
He who would be the Achilles to my Patroclus. The Hades to my Persephone; I am a pauper that nobody owns, yet he would shatter my soul even when all he could see were my bones.
Even though my self-destructive manias, he would stay. I would be a bit too tangled in his soul. Pardon me, it's my fault for getting attached too quickly.
Who am I writing about? No one particular in mind, perhaps someone in future who might find me worth investing in.
My young soul has killed her gods, got my demons on her knees, yet his smile would give me a victory higher than all of them.
Since my childhood I have had love fed to me on a spoon, there were times, however, I just somehow learnt to lick it off knives as well.
Gauri Sharma (white-poppie) aka me :)
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Aesthetics writing white-poppie
LATE -SUMMER GOTHIC AESTHETICS
vibes for the loamy waning of this bright season
Roadtrip Burnout: Bloodshot eyes, flickering neon motel signs, aviator sunglasses, magic 8 balls, recurrent dreams of grey aliens, beaded curtains, dusty denim and incense smoke, sepia desert vistas, playlists of 1960s rock songs, coded messages in television static, comets in the night sky, fake IDs, gas station snacks, Jesus bobble heads, split lips, patchouli, paranoia between friends.
Southern Cemetery: Magnolia blossoms, chipping white porch swings, Spanish moss, suffocating humidity, faded photographs of lacy weddings, tire tracks in mud, mausoleum angels, family trees, the yellow-green eyes of alligators, repressed childhood memories bubbling to the surface, broken porcelain dolls, legs covered with mosquito bites, blood promises, crucifixes and barbed wire.
Interdimensional Park Ranger: The yellow eyeshine of an unseen animal, circling turkey vultures, unnatural fluctuations in the passage of time, daddy long legs in rotting logs, distorted backwards speech through a walkie-talkie, unexplainable antler shrines, coniferous mountain horizons, star-like bonfire sparks whirling in an indigo night, nests of infant barn owls, claw marks in tent fabric.
Haunted Boardwalk: Rickety Ferris wheels, carnival lights through fog, saltwater taffy and tarot card readings, childhood best-friends, thunderstorms over the sea, tear-streaked face paint, chipping animatronics partially submerged in brackish water, ill-fated games of truth or dare, vintage circus posters boasting mermaids and wolfmen, underwater caves marked with a skulls and crossbones.
Types Of People (pt.6) Shades of Yellow
watercolor paintings, will sit with you until 4 in the morning just talking about the meaning of life, old movies, always on time, learned to be mentally strong, freckles, has a perfume collection, piano music, dancing in the rain, busy hands, eats healthy, sunset is the favorite time of the day, photography, drawing on mirrors, knows not to judge people, candles, twinkling eyes, dealing with problems without using silly words, the clinking of teacups, hesitant smiles, gold jwellery, long winter coats, finds nostalgia in everything, watching the view from the terrace, vintage hand watches, late night phone calls, wearing at least 2 rings at any given time, always want to help you if u have problem, lava lamps.
creating new problems for themselves, always has energy, do3s before they think, scattered mind, post it notes everywhere, doodles, trying to see good in everything, torn denim, big smiles, fluffy socks for sliding around the house like a ninja, peach slices, hates staying at home, makes a lot of smoothies, looking up at the clouds, no alcohol tolerance at all, takes you to concerts, friends with everyone, piggyback rides, goes to parties but leaves early, blogger life, sucks at maths, they've broken the law at least once, they always have what you want, fuzzy blankets, abandons projects quickly, tees & nasa shirts, playful punches, loves kids, wash off tattoos, talks in their sleep, not knowing how to say 'no'.
GREEN YELLOW -
walking on warm grass, white linen, watches butterflies, crunchy apples on walks, having a calm effect on everyone, ladybug landing on their hand, long car rides, pressing flowers in books, elaborate stories, swimming in the lake, not interested in the trends, falling in love with the nature, loves to climb trees, sharp eyes, has tons of cool socks, 'wreck this journal', climbing plants, skincare routine, the helping hand everyone needs, is known yet there is so much to know about them, bracelets, LOVES affection strangers knowing them from another life, loves dark chocolate, the feeling of sunlight touching the skin, iced teas, wants to draw & read more than they already do.
CANARY YELLOW -
small but fierce, tipsy on affection, not very ambitious, only has a few close friends, snoozing their alarm clock, fragile, chaotic softness, trips over their own feet, pastels & plants, the one to kiss u and straight up forget about it afterwards, is allergic to everything, catch and release fishing trips, not talking much but saying all the important things, loves small objects, demands you to love them and say that they're adorable, lying awake and wondering if someone misses them too, denim jackets, loving to scare people but a cinnamon roll, shy laughter, loyal, will always have your back, can be a bit mean sometimes, plays hard to get even though they may feel the same way, not in a gang but sometimes they act like they're.
dancing late into the night, floral scents, piles of books scattered all over their room, screaming at the top of their lungs, thrift stores, ordinary and sometimes extraordinary, loves honey, being honest, no regrets, owns a cat, short writing on scraps of paper, falling asleep during class, not depending on anyone, beaten up books filled with unshaved poetry, cheeseburger, sleek laptop covers, can seem cold but has a good heart, needs a lot of naps, probably drives too fast, has a soft spot for animals, overhears strangers conversations a lot, the smell of freshly baked cookies, remembering their dreams, collects comics, has tattoos, beautifully dangerous, love picnics, loud music, waking up early and staying in bed.
“i am hard to love.
that, i have always known
but you climbed the barbed wire fences that guarded my heart
and said you were here to stay
i believed you;
that was my mistake
i guess i scared you away;
i was too much for you,
or not enough,
or somewhere in between
the ending remains the same
i am here,
with my lonely, wounded heart
and the shattered remains of every empty promise you made.”
-i am hard to love, but you were easy to lose. c.r.
I will never forget the time Athanasia ran forward towards Claude, then paused looking enlightened and then ran back with utmost seriousness, just to hand her candy over to Felix for safekeeping which she'd previously offered to "'Mr. Whitey' white bad doggy", or Felix's look of utter confusion at her action.
[31.10.20] October Moments
Meant to post this in October but I forgot to queue it haha anyway I finally finished my embroidery project which took me months to finish, mostly because of my overall lack of motivation. But hey, small wins I guess. Also, Covid cases here in Switzerland are steadily rising which means no onsite classes until further notice and masks are mandatory basically everywhere but other than that, there will be no lockdowns (at least not yet) which a lot of European countries are doing right now. Hopefully, it will all get better just in time for the holidays *fingers crossed*. Hope y’all are safe wherever you are.
(An attempt to make writing inspired by adventurecore and other such aesthetics, as I've seen some blogs doing something similar)
Night had long fallen, glittering stars decorating the dark sky in scattered patterns, visible just beyond the stretching treetops. The air was chilled, a telltale sign of the incoming winter.
Your only source of warmth this evening was the soft cloak draped over your shoulders, and the fire that you shared with a caravan. Dirtied bowls from dinner lay by your feet, scraped clean of the stew and bread handed to you earlier.
Soft chatter flitted about the camp; fellow travelers bid each other goodnight, while others held conversation.
You took no part in the discussions, sitting with the few people still awake this evening, paying little attention to what was being said as you looked through the journal in your hands. Leather bound and riddled with sketches and descriptions of the places you’d been and sights you’d witnessed.
A map, pasted into the weathered pages, sat open before you. Your brows were furrowed as you trailed a thin pencil along the marked out roads, carefully tapping the lead on places you needed to go and those you probably shouldn’t.
You didn’t know how long it’d been since the silence fell on the camp, all except for the crackling fire. Logs popped, sparks flying into the air. Eyes were on you, expectant.
Slowly, you lifted your head, looking around at the group of people that sat around you. Carefully closing the journal, you set it on the beaten up satchel that sat beside you, before clearing your throat.
“Did I miss something?”
A man, one of the caravan leaders, with messy brown hair and chin lined with stubble, smiled. “I asked about your travels. You’re an adventurer, right?”
I’ve been thinking a lot about the aesthetic romanticization of the four seasons vs our contemporary lived experience of seasonality in a world already markedly altered by climate change. I’ve been thinking about how every time I read about a winter in the south, it seems anachronistic.
I’ve been taking walks under the smoke grey sky and thinking about the way there is so little in the way of literary precedent for the symbology of warm winters in mid America.
I’ve been thinking about how these 70 degree December days are ours alone to define: ominous, future haunted, electrified, fleeting.
I am, as the poets say, a lost cause
Let sit on a roof , watch the stars and lean into each other let's not talk and just feel.
west virginia gothic
crickets chirp and thunder rumbles. chickens peck around below the clothesline. there is sun tea in the fridge and peas that need shelled.
hills and hollows lookingback at you, one room churches clinging to hillside along one lane dirt roads. roads meet and split, convex mirors hang over blind corners.
long rusty brigde, steel spans the river, peeling white paint and rusted rivets. rain pours from dark clouds, thicker and heavier until sky and river meet in grey mist.
Sarah Mann’s journal excerpts, @sarahmanndocuments on instagram