#which is uh an ominous juxtaposition

[bomberqueen17]

currently playing a youtube video called "one hour of coyote sounds" over my bluetooth speaker to try and deter whatever the fuck is trying to gnaw through the chicken wire around my cabin foundation

on a more pleasant note i decided today was the day to relight the pilot light in my propane stove heater and now i am of course takin er for a lil spin and as a result it is cozy as fuck in here and when i texted dude a photo of the heater running he wrote back "gettin hygge with it" which i think i shall embroider on a throw pillow actually

[atenderofsycamoretrees]

Comme des Garçons Spring 2021 Ready-to-Wear

Photos courtesy of Comme des Garçons

[winsmoke]

𝐀𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐬

All Taeyong wanted was to give you flowers but it blew up in his face. One year later and he’s ready to redeem himself… ish. 

⊹ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 1.5k ⊹ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 female architect student y/n x fashion student Taeyong ⊹ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 art school au, fluff ⊹ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 swearing ⊹ 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 🦷 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 I drew inspiration from this Chanel video (imagine the flowers much larger).  ⊹ 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 request | disclaimer | masterlist

　“y/n! psssst, y/n!” Taeyong hissed from behind a garbage bin, waving his hand wildly. Staggering slightly to stop mid-stride, you looked down at him incredulously.

　Squinting your eyes at Taeyong’s neon splattered outfit, no doubt an original design, you obeyed his urgent beckoning. For an aspiring haute couture designer, Taeyong was certainly the most unpredictable student in the fashion design program. Eying the jagged hemline of his sleeves, you wondered if he even knew how to sew.

　“Uh... should I be concerned?” you asked, bending next to him. Taeyong began frantically sifting through his backpack, fabric markers, unwashed brushes, and paints spilling out and clattering onto the sidewalk. Busily continuing his search, you quickly chased after the runaway art supplies.

　“Fuck– wait! y/n, come back!” Taeyong called panickedly, reaching for your arm. 

　“Don’t worry, I’m watching for cars,” you reassured while collecting the decelerating glass bottles that had rolled into the road.

　“That’s not what I’m worried about– aw shit.” Ducking back behind the garbage can, Taeyong huffed in annoyance. He refused to be in his presence.

　“Oh, there you are,” Ten exhaled in relief, “I thought I had come to the wrong building.”

　“What do you want,” you asked tiredly. Fresh from lecture about the theories of urban planning, the last thing you wanted was two guys from your dorm floor pestering you for fuck-knows-what.

　“It’s supposed to be a secret but I wanted to see your reaction,” Ten informed, eagerly thrusting a picture frame forward. Settling Taeyong’s paint bottles into your bag, you accepted the frame, already an ominous feeling settling in before examination. 

　“Son of a bitch didn’t even bother wrapping it,” Taeyong muttered. Clutching the crisply wrapped parcel he had finally recovered from his bag, he sighed in resignation. He would just have to wait till the fucker left your side.

　“I’m your secret snowman,” Ten said smugly. 

　“It’s really nice,” you said, looking up and forcing out a wide smile. “I like the... flower?” you squinted your eyes in confusion. Slipping into artist mode, Ten inhaled deeply.

　“Is it not evident? Let me enlighten you: I thought the fragility of the Lily would...”

　And that’s where he lost you.

　A year ago, someone had left a wilting bouquet on your bed for your secret snowman gift. This had somehow evolved into an ongoing gag in your dormitory and every holiday you would receive a new variation of dead flowers. Even fucking Arbor Day, rotten flowers would pop out of nowhere. Unfortunately, this wasn’t something that Ten was aware of; he had drawn it from his own intuition.

　A student from the studio arts program, Ten’s go-to words were “juxtaposition” and “postmodernism,” which he managed to mention in every conversation you had with him. Although the rest of the girls on your floor (interior design students no less) swooned for his pretentious vocabulary and endless collection of turtlenecks, you were more hesitant. Kind of like his art, you appreciated him... from a distance.

　Having launched into a mini-dissertation about a damn flower, all you could do was smile and nod at Ten. It also didn’t help that you were in the architectural design program. You were not easily impressed by the other, more asymmetrical art forms taught at the art institution you attended. 

　Taeyong grimaced watching you smile so convincingly. Craning his neck, he tried to get a proper look at the drawing that had seemingly won your approval. Thinking you might find his glasses unflattering, Taeyong had left them in his dorm. However, now all he could see was a black blur, which wasn't far off from your own analysis. 

　“...wanna come to an exhibit with me? This artist is paying homage to Marcel Du–”

　“As delightful as that sounds, I need to revise for my urban planning course. Maybe in another lifetime...” you sighed, circling around Ten’s body. 

　“Shit, what did they say,” Taeyong muttered, unable to decipher your blurry facial expression. Did it actually happen? Did Ten manage to seduce you with absolutely no sex appeal or subtly? 

　“y/n, wait!” Taeyong called, following your shrinking figure but not without flipping an unmoving Ten both of his middle fingers. He would figure out how to shit on him properly later.

　Ignorant of Taeyong’s desperate attempts to reach you, you hastily made your way to your usual café. Winding through the 4 p.m. crowd of university students for two blocks, you eventually wrestled your way into the coffee shop’s rickety door. Rubbing your chapped hands as you scanned the familiar menu, you settled for something warm and comforting.

　“One hot chocolate please,” you told the barista politely. 

　“I’ll – I’ll pay – for – that,” Taeyong puffed from the door, one hand gripping the handle and the other clutching his ribcage.

　Your eyes widened as he staggered forward to push a few crumpled bills onto the counter. It was a simple gesture of kindness but it made your stagnant heart flutter unexpectedly.

　“I could have given your paints back later tonight. You didn’t have to run after me,” you said gravitating towards your favorite chair facing the window. Unzipping your bag, you offered Taeyong the bottles. Slightly light headed, Taeyong disorientedly looked from the parcel he held to the paints in your hand.

　“Huh? No, I don’t need those. Wait. Actually, I do but that’s not–”

　“Two hot chocolates,” the barista announced, pushing the mugs forward.

　“What? I only paid for one,” Taeyong mumbled, walking back to the counter on the brink of a flustered breakdown. Leaning forward on his forearms, the barista winked at him.

　“She comes here almost every day,” he began, nodding in your direction, “and I see you pass by every time she’s here.” 

　“This coffee shop is very close to my dorm,” Taeyong murmured, his ears turning pink. “But, thank you – ?”

　“Jaehyun.” Fixing his attention on new customers, the barista smiled encouragingly before adding, “don’t fuck up.”

　Wrapping his fingers around steaming mugs, Taeyong forced himself to breathe evenly on the short journey back to you. Sliding them onto the table before sitting, he peered at you nervously. Time to redeem myself.

　“I actually came to give you a present.” Taeyong carefully placed a rectangular package next to your hands.

　“If it’s another one of these just chuck it,” you said sourly while waving the frame Ten had given you. 

　Immediately inflamed from finally seeing the drawing, Taeyong was deaf to your words, pouring out all of his compiling frustrations.

　“What the fuck is that? You like this shit? What even is it? How is a turtleneck hoarder pulling this shit off?” Taeyong agonized. Am I the only one who sees through his bullshit??

　“What the hell are you talking about? ‘Next Jackson Pollock’ my ass. Acting so satisfied after gifting me yet another dead flower… as if I would go to a fucking exhibit with his ass. I mean, what kind of twisted version of postmodernism is that?” you ranted, equally enraged.

　Taeyong looked at you in horror, realizing he had fucked up yet again. 

　“I – fuck. I have something to confess,” Taeyong gulped under your bitter glare. “That was me. I was the one who left those flowers in your room last year.” 

　“Is this supposed to be a confession or a death wish,” you said stonily, standing up to get the fuck out. What is it with male art students and shitty gifts?

　“But! But!” Taeyong protested, grabbing your wrist before you could leave. You reluctantly paused. “I had bought them and put them in your room in the morning but you didn’t come back until late that night,” Taeyong explained pleadingly. “I – I mean, you remember how freezing it was in the dorms last winter… I guess they died waiting for you.”

　“And you didn’t bother telling me this until now because...”

　“I was humiliated. But when I heard that Ten, allegedly the best student in his department had drawn your name this year… I couldn’t standby,” Taeyong admitted.

　“Alright, let me open this damn thing,” you grumbled, sitting back down. Peeling back the luxurious wrapping paper, you lifted the box’s lid and looked down in awe. 

　Taeyong rubbed his cheek anxiously. He had been so determined to give you his gift before Ten, he hadn’t even considered whether you would like it. Straying into street fashion more than mainstream couture, Taeyong’s typical creations were chaotic and constantly being questioned by his instructors. Similarly, you were well-versed in calculus and physics and could spot errors in proportion and measurements from miles away. And he knew you disapproved of his style. Taeyong had never cared about any of that before now but he prayed this would be the time he could finally get it right.

　Trying to make up for his previous attempt, Taeyong had recreated the same flower using red tulle. Intricately cutting out layers of the thin material to mock flower petals, he painstakingly dyed and drew mouse-sized designs on each fabric petal before stacking them to precisely mimic the shape of the flower. In place of the flower’s pistil, Taeyong had sewed a tiny diamond. You gently lifted the gift from the box, afraid that whatever microscopic organism that inhabited your hands would taint the flawless flower. You couldn’t imagine the amount of patience, time, and ingenuity that had been put into this delicate object.

　“What kind of flower is it?” you asked quietly. 

　“The kind that won’t die… an amaryllis.”

[onceandfuturekitty]

Meditation on Hatori, Snow, and Dark Backgrounds in Fruits Basket: Part 1

Part 1 < Previous Part | Next Part >

Like last time, Fruits Basket angst ahoy below the cut. Spoilers only if you really want to read chapters 10 and 12 of the manga but still haven’t.

When we think of ‘winter’ or ‘snow’ in Fruits Basket, we naturally think of Hatori. However, there’s a certain type of snow that is very specifically linked to him and to his tragic past: snow set against a dark background.

Above is, I think, the first appearance of this ominous kind of snow in the manga (Vol. 2, Ch. 10). It is used with an explicitly negative connotation—the family head didn’t like Hatori and Kana wanting to get married. That + black background = uh-oh.

Here’s another example of the snow on black background, where we see Hatori brooding over what he perceives to be his past failures. 

(“I...wasn’t able to [choose Kana over Akito].”)

We get the sense that he does this a lot, or at the very least that he gets lost in thought/stuck in his head a lot (when Tohru wishes him a happy New Year in chapter 12, he’s dazed from being jolted out of his reverie brooding).

That’s one reason I think it’s actually really nice and important that he has friends like Shigure and Ayame, who are more outgoing and energetic than he is and who can thereby force him to get out of his head and interact with the world more/do other nice things for him, like make him tea and get him a special relaxing vacation. (Can you see why I like season 1 episode 15 of the 2019 anime reboot? It just makes me really soft lol.)

Here’s another addition to our program of snow with dark backgrounds. We’re starting to see a pattern here—if there’s a bunch of irregularly-shaped snow set against a black background, you can BET it has to do with another dose of Hatori/Kana pain and angst.

That’s not all the above scene highlights, however. It also emphasizes how selfless Hatori is—to, as he puts it in chapter 12, erase the most precious memories from the mind most precious to him with his own hands? Hatori embodies this aspect/part of the Jedi from Star Wars’ philosophy of letting go extremely well: doing so for the sake of someone else, so that they will be bettered and happier/undergo less suffering because of it. Even if you suffer instead.

Another interesting thing about the above scene is that, while the snow starts with a black background and is shaped more irregularly, the snow then MORPHS INTO HATORI, with a dark grayish, more circular fairy light-like quality instead. It’s a very neat and direct way of showing that Hatori has (re-)frozen into snow now that Kana’s gone. But it still makes me sad :(

That won’t be the last time that kind of snow appears in the manga.

In fact...

I would argue that the above scene is where a similar type of fairy light snow appears. We don’t just see the more fairy light type of circle shapes, we also see some of the smaller more irregular ellipse-like shapes that have previously signaled snow against a black background.

That’s Natsuki Takaya-sensei’s warning to us readers: it looks beautiful now, but it already has the telltale signs of tragedy and a snowy death written all over it.

And indeed, this is where their story leads. To Kana wrongly blaming herself for all that’s happened (thanks, Akito and the curse)...to Akito’s further manipulation of Hatori...to the break-up and disintegration of their happiness, and of their relationship. 

It’s another clear instance of the dark background kind of snow. And, man, I know Kana wanted Hatori not to have been hurt, but the words she says in this scene must have wounded him deeply, coming not only from the woman he loved and the first person who helped him feel forgiven/saved, but also from the woman who had (only a short time before the above scene) told him she was glad to have met him: 

It’s as if all of that is being thrown back at his face. And it can lead one into interesting philosophical questions and discussion—is it better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all? I’d say yes. In this case, Kana is saying no.

Like, oUcH?? Who said this was okay?? That is a painful juxtaposition.

Alright, one more sad picture and then I’m gonna end on a happier note.

After he’s erased her memory, and after the Sohma maids(?) have taken Kana away, Hatori remains. He’s alone and isolated once more, and he’s frozen into snow yet again. 

But still, he doesn’t spare a selfish thought for himself—he’s willing to do whatever it takes for Kana to still be happy.

To which I say: SOMEONE HELP THIS MAN, PLEASE. (Can’t wait til season 2, please let it happen in season 2....)

And what does Tohru say in response?

Someone will.