as this album is connected to the Sweol ferry tragedy where hundreds of people died (BTS have also donated 100mil won to charities to help families of the victims, it was done without the media knowing but it got out)
this pile represents all the lives that were lost, all the children, the wives, the husbands, the boyfriends, the daughters, the girlfriends, the friends, the families. it is a way of remembering or ‘recognizing’ all those who were lost that day. all the people who had lives, who had names, who had a family, these are their ‘clothing’. this is a grave
“Sixty-nine camps, but there are no tents and no living people, only thousands of old clothes lying face down on the floor. Is this where they fell or where they were laid? The irresistible metaphor springs literal in the visitor’s mind, as if clothes could have bodies or faces.
You walk, you look, you search for evidence among the mildewed raincoats and threadbare denim. Here is a corduroy jacket, almost new, and a faded gabardine; there is a baby’s knitted cardigan. They were young, they were old, they were not ready to die, poor departed souls who leave nothing behind but shucked garments. Mown down, laid out in groups, they have all met a terrible end. This is apparent without a single bloodstain or name; Boltanski’s evidence is both more and less than proof.
And as you walk, the sense is of honouring the dead, of trying to observe the details of each and every one. These grouped clothes may represent mass graves, or corpses arrayed for identification in the school gym, but they also constitute a kind of cemetery. For the experience is just the same: that there is nobody here and yet the place is crowded.
Boltanski has always been a maker of monuments and memorials. His medium is the human trace and the memento mori.” x
In an attempt to stay positive in the midst of some not-so-great times and a bout of exam-period anxiety, I’m channelling my inner Fraulein Maria and reminding myself of my favourite things in the bad times (some of these are more superficial than others - actually never mind, they’re all pretty superficial). These are a few of my favourite things:
my phone, which is nice but actually isn’t working at the moment so I can’t use it
a half-burned candle that I couldn’t be bothered to light just for a photo (go figure, considering I staged the rest of this photo) but it smells nice and looks nice
my watch, which I literally wear everywhere I go
my laptop, which I depend on even more than the aforementioned watch
a cute pen that has featured in basically every other picture before this
a super warm chunky knit cardigan which doubles as an aesthetic throw blanket of sorts (just for the ’gram!)
and last but not least, one of my favourite feel-good books because (heaven forbid) it’s one of those fluffy trashy romances - if you look closely (or maybe not because of my terrible phone camera quality) you can read about my #1 fictional crush who I legitimately am in love with. I am in love with him to the point where if he somehow broke the fourth wall and jumped off the pages of this book into real life, I would marry him in an instant.
I was going through my photo’s from nyc and found these from the Museum of Art and Design. They had a section on the counter-culture movement in the 70′s that involved a lot of handmade, sustainable and reused fashion.
Some of it was really gorgeous! But some looks like the fashion equivalent of an LSD trip.
(sorry for the dark photos - idk what it is about nyc but all the museums were really dark)
gryffindor. oversized jumpers; roasting marshmallows over a crackling fire; laughing hysterically while pumpkin carving; the smell of cinnamon and baking; playing in puddles with bright gumboots; hair blowing wildly in the wind; cute beanies with pom poms; warm, rosy cheeks; burning your tongue when you sip a hot drink too quickly; early morning runs; worn, flannel shirts; pretending to be a dragon with clouds of warm breath in the cold air
hufflepuff. long, woollen socks; vanilla-scented candles; a warm blanket over your shoulders; jumping into a pile of autumn leaves; fluffy earmuffs; creamy hot chocolate with whipped cream on top; hanging fairylights everywhere; playing with your pet on a warm rug; thick mittens; a warm bath to relax after a long day; the crunching of leaves underfoot; capturing the image of dancing leaves with a vintage camera
ravenclaw. people-watching through foggy windows in cafés; reading a favourite book by candlelight; long, thick scarves; staying up late to play board games; wandering aimlessly under falling leaves; oversized, knitted cardigans; muted sunlight filtered through autumn leaves; late nights binging on netflix; a chilly wind freezing the tip of your nose; scribbling in notebooks under overcast skies; the natural silence of the woods; the dancing tendrils of steam from a mug of hot tea
slytherin. cold and misty mornings; warming your hands on a mug of hot coffee; dark lip colours; the dance of walking barefoot across a cold floor; stylish, long overcoats; falling asleep to the pattering of rain on the window; meandering wooded roads; lace-up leather boots; the flickering of candlelight in the dark; lying on a tartan blanket while listening to music through headphones; burying yourself in soft, warm blankets at the end of the day
Alexander A total hipster, knitted beanies and cardigans, colourful pants and shoes from the thrift store, scarves and fingerless gloves in winter. Makes an effort to look like he doesn’t care about his looks. Suceeds in this and still looks good most of the time. Wears sweatpants in public whenever he can get away with it.
Hercules Always a perfect colourscheme, can make things that you would never think go together kind of work. Experiments a lot with new styles and is just really into the whole matter. Has his own little clothing line and makes most of his clothes himself. Expensive suits, grey sweaters, silk ties.
Lafayette Models for Herc and loves it, looks great in anything. Sometimes likes it dramatic. Hats, coats, big patterns, lots of contrasts. Wears only jeans and t-shirt on other days, really it’s like you’ve got two different people. Can sadly not be persuaded to wear his glasses everyday. He will make you cry by wearing a tanktop in summer.
John Your typical white girl despite being neither white nor a girl. Wears addidas sneakers, skinny jeans and wears his ponytail through the back of a snapback. Basically doesn’t really care about fashion and just buys the stuff he can find in every store. He even gets starbucks like the basic bitch he is. Has to be stopped by Herc. Please.
Sweat beaded your forehead as you ran through the sea of people flooding the airport, your breathing was erratic and Jungkook was nowhere to be seen. Your heart hammered angrily against your chest, where was he? There you were, willing to drop your life for him and he didn’t have the decency to even answer the phone the 14 times you’d called.
Close to giving up your eyes wandered the busy scene desperately once more, much to your surprise you saw a tall, broad figure wearing all black holding what looked like to be a Louis Vuitton luggage bag. Your Louis Vuitton luggage bag. That had to be him. You ran up to the man who was speedily walking away, his wide strides almost impossible for you to catch up with.
“Jungkook!” You shouted, earning a stare from a dozen pairs of nosey eyes in the process.
Okay, another prompt is here! Sorry for not updating sooner, it’s a long fic once again lol! It is sad, angsty (I was listening to a lot of Placebo while writing so yeah) and it turns hot and heavy close to the end but then some fluff concludes it; basically it has it all! :P Warning for mentions of violence, mild language and sexual themes. I hope you like it darlings and you don’t mind that I combined your awesome prompt ideas! Thank you so much for requesting! And to the rest of you, enjoy! <3
A small summary to tie the three prompts together: After an abrupt break up, Betty is left broken and confused by Jughead’s sudden behavior. Once finding out that he had joined the infamous gang of their small town, the Southside Serpents, Betty sets her mind to sneak into their lair with the only way she knows best. Along with the help of a sudden ally that she comes across on the way, they vow to save Jughead’s soul at all costs.
(The long dialog in italics is a flashback)
“Stars hide your
Let not light see my black and
The eye wink at the hand, yet
let that be
Which the eye fears, when it
is done, to see…”
The black velvet of yet another eerie night had spread
over the small town of Riverdale, the otherwise picturesque scenery of the
alight sky now fearful and pitch black, an ominous sign and a bloodcurdling
setting. It coordinated with her jet leather attire, her raven hair and the
ghastly temperament that oozed from the cold-blooded sound of heels against
dirty and wet asphalt. “Stars hide your
fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires…” Every click of
stiletto punctuated each word her mind whispered on a loop to the depths of her
subconscious, green eyes shining deadly through the darkness, like those of a
wolf in hunt for its prey.
If anyone were to run into her on the street, they
wouldn’t recognize her; nothing tied her with the image of the nonpareil
younger daughter of the Cooper clan. Betty Cooper was dead, locked in the
comfort of lavender and chamomile amongst collared sweaters and preppy knitted
cardigans. For how long it was yet to be decided but, for tonight, the
golden-hearted girl that everyone left behind was put to sleep under the
naivety of false ambition and hopeless dreams. Her alter ago was there to deal
with the mess the tedious angelic spectrum of her character always seemed to