I Wish I Could Title Every Poem I've Ever Written, 'Fuck Man, I Don't Know'
I’m not too sure how much my family would like it
But I’m not too sure how much they like my writing anyways
They think it’s sad and weird
They ask me, ‘Why don’t you write about happy things?’
Is poetry supposed to make people happy?
Should I tell everyone things will be okay in the end, then wink and walk away?
Should I talk about a sunset then slap someone’s back and say, ‘keep your head up kiddo’?
Should I tell people too take the road less traveled and then act surprised when they get mauled by a bear?
The other day my grandma recited me a poem my grandpa wrote for her when they first started dating
Some simple quatrain thing talking about trees and stars and love
It was cute
Afterwards I tried to read her something of mine but forgot about a line I wrote referencing my drug dealer
Not so cute
I see a bouquet of flowers but the petals are all tiny heads of sad old drunks weeping
I see the stars but all the constellations are college freshmen writing poems about the stars to get a blowjob
I see a poetry anthology called ‘100 love poems’ at the book store and the ink is printed on toilet paper
I see an old dog hobbling on three legs and want to give it everything I own
🌸🍂Once you’ve tired of Notre Dame’s gothic exaggeration, it’s hard to miss all the flowers that spill on to the pavement from tiny storefronts in Paris. They do flowers so well - from abundant bunches of pink, red and orange roses at Hotel Costes to the Four Seasons George V, whose floristry is its forte, @lachaume.fleurs (the grand dame loved by Karl Lagerfeld), @odorantesparis (rare roses are its speciality)“, @mouliefleurs (clients include local embassies, government offices and hotels), as well as faves like La Boutique des Saint Peres and @artisanfleuristemarais -
Summer was always hard for the Sun. He had to shine brighter and walk through the sky longer. He felt guilty whenever he tried to play with the trees or the flowers, because, more often than not, he forgot that his warmth could harm them. In autumn, however, he could run his fingers over the tiny petals or colour leaves with his touch. The colours were beautiful and the leaves used to say to him that they turn red or yellow or orange in his honour, as a final thank you for his gentle care. He couldn’t make himself cry when he accidentally touched them in summer, he never could. He could only cause destruction and the tears in his heart never reached his eyes in order to fall down and put out the fires.
Once, in the middle of summer, the Sun almost died, then almost fell in love.
He had almost reached the end of the sky that day, after walking for hours that seemed longer and more painful than usual. Behind him, out of his sight, pieces of his light had fallen on his path. They shone like countless tiny flowers all the way back to the other end. Every step brought more exhaustion and pain to him and, just as he was almost at the end of the sky, a silent thump caught his attention. He looked around, sleep already closing his eyelids and making the world blurry, and the glow of a flower illuminated the path at his feet. But it was not the glowing flower that made his heart skip a beat and the sleep cower away in a hidden corner of his mind. It was his feet. And when he looked again, the rest of his body too. He was not shining and was instead just another one of the shadows that the glowing flower chased away with its light. He turned around and there they were - bright yellow flowers, little stars, all bearing rays of his light. They had dropped from him, he realised, and with them they had brought his light. The sky underneath was painted golden.
The Sun had to go back and gather his light, that he knew. But he couldn’t. He tried, very hard, but merely reaching down to take the flower at his feet caused him more pain than what he had felt throughout the whole day. Nevertheless, he turned his back to the end of the sky, just in time to miss the flash of silver that appeared at the end of the path, and took a step forward. Then another. Reaching the second flower caused him even more pain but he continued slowly straight ahead.
The third flower was in front of him. He fell to his knees when he tried to reach out for it, and pain shot through his chest, right where the darkest shadow of his body lay. His mouth opened in a silent scream and he dropped to the ground. He fought to stay awake and it was almost as if the light of the flower laughed at him from next to his head. His eyes were closing when a silver glow appeared in front of them. He thought he saw another flower, the most beautiful he had ever seen, and then let the thought slip away into the emptiness where he was already falling.
The Moon had never seen the Sun before, but she knew that he was made of light. The shadow in front of her was not. Her hand moved faster than her thoughts as she picked the yellow flower and put it in his hand. Its light glowed on his fingers before disappearing under his skin, and she saw that the shadows in them turned a little bit weaker. Her gaze followed the flowers scattered all the way to the other end of the path, then returned to the Sun whose limp body lay beside her feet. She knew what she had to do.
The Moon spent all night gathering flowers and returning to the Sun each and every time after having picked one. She didn’t want to risk leaving him for too long without his light so she chose to bring it back to him bit by bit. She watched as his skin began to glow under the petals that now covered his whole body. When she arrived at his side with the last flower, out of breath and more tired than ever, she gently placed it on his chest. The light sunk in his body and she watched as he opened his eyes. They were the colour of honey and autumn leaves. She helped him stand up and smiled when warmth spread on her fingers. The Sun smiled too.
The Moon and the Sun parted ways. She had to run over to the other end of the sky and he had to climb off the path and wait for the end of the night. But he only waited a few minutes. He filled them with thoughts of the Moon and her silver eyes. Her help had saved his life and he had almost fallen in love when he first looked at her. Almost.
The Sun stepped on the path when the new day started. He began his walk to the other end of the sky. When night approached, he was almost there, and on that day he was just in time to see the Moon.
~I decided to be reckless and do another caffeine challenge. This was inspired by the song prompt When The Day Met The Night by Panic! At The Disco. This version is not edited (and also that English is not my first language so excuse any mistakes that I might not have seen .~
i absolutely adore your worldbuilding, so, this is a question i've been wondering for a while, but is there a specific meaning attached to the dragon tattoo? or is it just a very impressive denotation of rank, or..? thank you!!
Thank you so much for answering this question, I am actually gonna use this to post a meta about Yuuri’s tattoos, because I put a lot of thought into them.
This is what I went off for the dragon, I already knew beforehand what they represented, but this one fit exactly for my purposes.
“In the west, it is a greedy, fire-breathing, cave-dwelling, and fear-inspiring creature that jealously guards its hoard. in the Japanese dragon tattoo, however, it symbolizes something very different. Oriental dragons are equally at home in the air or in the water. Usually embodying wisdom, strength and manipulating the forces of the universe for the benefit of people.
The face of the oriental dragon is generally not the face of one creature but many and can be different from dragon to dragon. The dragon can take on characteristics of animals it encounters through its life. The eyes can be of a demon, or rabbit, while the ears are those of a cow, the neck and belly of a snake, the horns of a stag and the scales of a koi. Its hands or talons are from the hawk or eagle and it has saliva and breath like perfume, a voice like the musical ringing of a copper bell or basin. The Asian dragon is usually the bearer of profound blessings. Like other Oriental tattoo designs, the choice of a dragon is generally an aspiration to the qualities of great goodness, wisdom, and power.”
All those bolded bits sung to me, the faces of many (masquerade) different personas in the eyes, hands like talons(his knives) and great goodness, wisdom and power, these all make me think of Yuuri.
I also put my own meaning/feelings into it, to me dragons are the ultimate being, to me they’re associated with royalty and high standing, like not just anyone can have a full back piece dragon tattoo and Yuuri, being the son of the Katsuki; is someone strong enough and worthy enough by blood and personality to have one on his skin.
For the peonies I gave him, (it should also be noted that in traditional irezumi that you can only have one type of flower on your body if you get a sleeve or bodysuit done) I went by this, peonies are special to me, I have a huge one on my forearm.
“The Peony is considered the best of flowers and is known as the King of flowers. In short it means elegance and wealth. With it’s large and spreading petals, which are delicately curled at the edges, the peony has been called “the rose without thorns”. Although often depicted in tattoo imagery in deep red, it is today also cultivated in many other colours.
In the ornate, complex, and extensive body coverage that is typically involved in Japanese tattoos, it may seem as though entire gardens appear, but the floral repertoire of traditional Japanese tattoo is not as extensive as it might first appear, among the select flowers that are used is the peony, it is regarded as a symbol of wealth, good fortune and prosperity. In addition though, it also suggests a sort of gambling, daring and even a masculine devil-may-care attitude, quite unlike its character in the west”.
I’m pretty sure the bolded parts speak for themselves in that one haha, but that’s why I gave Yuuri peonies out of all the flowers.
Fujin and Raijin I have explained a tiny bit in the fic (I think).
The gods of wind (Fujin) and thunder (Raijin) that loom ominously atop a summit of clouds are usually depicted as oni, showing that oni are not evil, but carry out duties and deeds given them by powerful deities and forces. Although fujin and raijin can be depicted using other than typical oni forms.
They’re both depicted as evil and ferocious, “but both the Wind God and the Thunder God are originally subordinates to the Senju Kannon, and worshipped together with Kannon’s 28 attendants.” (link) so all in all Yuuri is a powerful creature that works for a power higher than him, long story short anyway XD
There are a few more things I could add, about the spacing in windbars in traditional irezumi in regards to how wide or thin they are represents where in Japan you might be from, but that’s pretty much the basics of all Yuuri’s tattoo for now.
A Preference – You ignore them after a fight.
A/N I only did a few people
It’s snowing in all of these preferences.
• “Fine maybe I’ll just leave then!” You yelled, replying to his angry rant with venom edging your words.
• Storming out of the house, you grabbed your coat and slammed the door harshly behind you ; Niall was startled.
• “Y/n,” He shouted, his voice following you out of the door as he walked quickly behind you, he zipped up his coat and pulled his hood over his golden brown hair.
• You had been walking for a good while now, you could hear his footsteps following you still, he hadn’t spoken yet, he just followed.
• Niall continued to follow you, his feet were hurting because of his worn down shoes and he could tell you were freezing, you had no coat but you we’re dowsed in snow but he couldn’t quite catch up.
• He never could quite catch up.
• You weren’t with him when you had argued, he was miles away and you weren’t speaking to him.
• He got to your house as soon as he could, knocking on the door and holding a bunch of colourful flowers that had tiny white speckles melting all over their petals.
• Calvin realized you weren’t prepared to answer him, so he turned on the spot, his fabric shoes becoming wetter by the second, and sat on the grass verge outside of your house. He took off his hat, set it down next to him along with his flowers and ruffled his hair in frustration.
• You stared down at him through the tainted window, he looked back at you, neither of you made a move.
• He stood up gently, leaving his possessions as you opened the door and wandered into his arms and stood, quietly in the snow with the freezing boy.
• He sent message after message scrawled down on least scrap paper and post it notes under the door you wouldn’t open, each of them begging you to open it ; You could never keep the door closed to him
• You sat side by side, feeling the tension and awkwardness creep in after you bit back at a critique of his.
• He opened his mouth to speak and instantly closed it, unable to handle the retort that had hit him harder than a tonne of bricks.
• Alex, felt sheepish, so instead of speaking, he turned towards you, hugging you from the side and kissing your hair lightly ; You both stayed like that for a while, neither of you wanted to move first.
A/N part 2 tomorrow?
day 3 of bodhi week is about jedha and i was just really caught up with this idea that on jedha, people make these beautiful intricate family shawls for each new baby and every member of the family helps?? and bodhi no longer has his? idk man, as usually, this was written quickly and v unedited
Imagine that Marinette has nerves of steel. Imagine Marinette being able to stomach horror films and large roller coasters without breaking a sweat. Imagine Alya being very annoyed at this, because how is Marinette able to watch the Exorcist without flinching once, but gets panicked as soon as Adrien comes within ten feet of her?
Summary: Black and white was all anyone saw until they touched their soulmate. For some people, color quickly rushed into world and for others, all they ever saw was black and white. Two businessmen, who absolutely hated each other, managed to bump into each other on their way up to their office. Little did either know that their world would erupt in a staccato of color.
Word Count: 3,752
Dedication: @ all the people who are in the fanart contest bc they’re pouring their time into drawing ❤️
It was a sunny, cloudless Saturday afternoon in New York. It was slightly chilly, given that it was still very early in March, but that didn’t stop Jefferson and the Hamilton children from visiting the New York Botanical Garden.
hoseok: screaming and flailing his legs because he cant move his arms or else he’ll ruin your nail polish and constantly squealing at you to stop moving
jungkook:getting distracted and drawing polka dots and tiny flowers all over your nails like a true nail professional “jungkook did you get practice?” “…uh no?”
taehyung: asking you if he could put nail stickers on and ends up putting stickers on his face and on your face and all over your hands and legs
namjoon: watches 3924023 tutorials before attempting to paint your nails but ends up breaking the opening of the nail polish bottle before doing anything
yoongi: loves all of the colors that you have so he ends up painting each of your nails a different color
jimin: getting distracted by your adorable hands and always painting the sides of your finger instead of your nails
seokjin: literally the best nail artist out there he takes care of your hands so much by washing them in warm water first and moisturizing them and painting your nails very prettily you’re like damn i am gr8ful i am w this boy