Bo

slytherin // canine psychology & paleontology // she/her // pagan? // classic lit. // infp // leo // dark academia // writeblr

[allshewhispers]

It's always the pretty boys with trauma and emotional damage that give me gender envy. 

[elizabug]

Ghibli boys giving me gender envy 🙏🏻

[alynxwriter]

Let's tunnel our feelings into words and call it shitty poetry.

The feeling of autumn wisps, the crisp leaves that sway in my chest everytime you're near.

The charcoal clouds, clambering in my ribcage like a storm, a symphony of sorrow that rains down when we're not together.

Inescapable sun that shines down on me when you're there. The smile that's forged into my lips.

Your smile so contagious that the summer pollen doesn't hold a candle to it.

You say you're nothing special, "boring" you called it. How could you say that when you're the only thing that makes me feel alive?

You're the chilly wind perfect for sweaters, the summer heat that prompts a refreshing dip in the water, the heat of the sun after a freezing winter.

You're everything to me.

Alas, life is unpredictable. The storms that once rumbled in your absence now crash at the thought of your lover. Someone that my simple self- the basic wind of a summer night- could never compare to.

You seem so happy. The flowers of your fields blooming around them.

Sometimes I wish that a storm would wash those flowers aside, making room for new ones. That wouldn't make you happy. That's alright.

I will sit aside, my once bright flowers wilting in the far corner of your mind as a new patch of fresh and bright flowers spread every day, overtaking every inch of your mind like a rooted wildfire.

It's okay. I don't mind. Let your flowers grow. You deserve it.

I used to be arrogant enough to believe I could outrun those leaves that tumble inside my stomach, but now I finally get it. I get the unpredictability of life. I do. Nothing will ever storm the way you hope.

I get why love is always compared to weather.

I cannot promise the quality of this writings. It's just a bit of channeling. Any who read it, let me know what you're thinking. Thanks. <3

[boneless-loafcat]

gender is stored in the studio ghibli men

[transmasctrainwreck]

The hot person urge to have little braids like hiccup from how to train your dragon.

[alynxwriter]

The gender envy is really hitting right now.

[susanyung]

[metamorphesque]

—  You, Darkness by Rainer Maria Rilke

[text ID: I have faith in nights.]

[siir-poesia]

— Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath

[text ID: Outside it is warm and blue and April.]

[deadpoetstill-loves]

Only hot people go to bathroom to have a meltdown, I don't make the rules.

[katscottage]

I’m so much more productive after the sun goes down. While the sun is up I feel the weight of having to do things and it just overwhelms me.

But when the sun has gone to bed suddenly my time is my own. I can do with it what I will and oftentimes that means the cleaning I’ve been meaning to do, the projects I’ve been putting off. They suddenly don’t seem overwhelming to me.

I like it when the sun goes down.

[etherea1ity]

so many worlds to see through the window

(via)

[alynxwriter]

Does anyone else ever have a problem with choosing an aesthetic? I cannot stop switching between dark academia and cottagecore for my life.

[sweetcicero]

dark royaltycore

[bunny-girl-senpaii]

Types of People: Colors

red: sleek daggers, wilted roses in a nighttime garden, volatile emotions, falling off stone towers crawling with ivy, cherry wine in pristine glasses, dark eyes, vintage t-shirts, blood on white marble, wicked smiles, likes to be chased, pointed looks, defensive. 

orange: extroverted and bubbly, modern hotels, the charm of New York City, orange blossoms and peach trees, really sweet, cream puffs, organized, bullet journals, soft giggles, long eyelashes, exudes warmth, hair is always on point, probably has lots of friends. 

yellow: indie music playing faintly through headphones, tired sighs and bright smiles, introverted, flowers tucked in their hair, denim overalls and striped socks, city parks with friends, interlocked hands, fantasy novels tucked under their arm, dreaming of a better place. 

green: fruity smoothies, paint-splattered jeans, wandering through art museums, likes the countryside, rock music, loud laughter, bubble tea in their hand at all times, the smell of wintergreen gum, messy hair, lots of pets, is always hungry, tall pine trees, fierce mood swings. 

blue: walking by the ocean, hair blown backwards by the wind, steaming mugs of tea, introverted, somehow knows everything, crescent moons and twinkling stars, piles of books, the sound of rain on a window, full of stories, an old soul, beautiful evening skies.

purple: royalty, long staircases descending into gardens, thick mystery novels, knowing gazes, vintage glasses, amethysts, fields of lavender, carefree laughter, falling in love, wistfulness, deep eyes, hard to get to know, magic spells, quiet whispers, plum wine. 

pink: bubblegum, riding skateboards, big smiles, flirty af, likes to laugh, good fashion sense, the Eiffel Tower at sunset, colored hallways in hotels, neat notes, brightly colored pens, extroverted, gives good relationship advice, confident, wants to go to Southern France. 

brown: vintage sweaters, hands wrapped around a steaming mug of hot chocolate, soft boots in autumn leaves, quiet and soft-spoken, Korean street clothing, tired but warm eyes, the scent of cinnamon, mom friend asf, an old soul, good at writing novels and poetry. 

black: deadpan sense of humor, tall buildings, satellites in pitch black skies, bitter coffee, feeling drowsy while wrapped in blankets, hands smudged with ink, eyebags, insomnia, doesn’t have many friends, starless nights, clouds covering the moon, wants to escape. 

white: probably owns a flower crown, sunlight streaming through gauze curtains, bunnies hopping through a field, blushes easily, the scent of vanilla, a sky covered by clouds, well liked but few who know them well, gentle touches, pleasant dreams, optimistic, handfuls of daisies. 

[poppyonthehill]

types of people as art movements

neoclassical: stepping into old libraries with pure curiosity, the clicks and clacks of oxford shoes on marble tiles, leather bound notebooks tucked in satchels, sculpting Icarus’s wax wings for flight, a metal sword pointed north

romantic: light glimmering through indigo and ruby stained glass, an organized chaos, silk scarves blowing in the wind, the call for a revolution, roaring waves setting across the ocean, dancing in an empty parking lot

impressionism: rolling green hills, pastel yellow kissing the canvas, a gust of air causing wrinkles in the sky, puff sleeves hugging shoulders, a sigh of relief, the ability to revisit nostalgic memories with a soft touch

fauvism: reflections of orange goldfish, a garden of monstera leaves and tulips, casting blue shadows as the sun sets on a summer day, patterned wallpaper, laughter spilling on the sidewalk, the tunes of a saxophone floating in the city

[sappylittlebitch]

types of academia pt. 2

art: paint dried at the cuffs of your favorite jacket, ink smudged hands, your notebooks are just sketchbooks for your class doodles with notes crammed in between the drawings, sudden revelations, wanting to create something meaningful with your own two hands, thinking of pygmalion during your sculpting class, reading a book and coming across that one sentence that sparks the inspiration for your next piece, afternoons on a soft green hill sketching, the scent of jasmine on the breeze, the music blaring in your headphones is all you can hear or feel as you work through the night, laying under the starlight

writer: the sound of a pen against parchment, the glow of a computer screen in a dark room, the sound of a clock ticking away the hours, reading with a hunger that will only be satisfied once you can give shape to your own words, empty notebooks, notebooks full of poetry, forgotten ideas that were not written down, your notes app is full of poetry, rainy days full of time spent typing away, living every experience in its rawest fork because you know you can write about it later, “write what you know” so you try to know everything, dreaming through your characters eyes, you and the moon have become good friends after nights spent writing under her light and reading your prose out loud

romantic: sketches of your love in a sketchbook that’s falling apart, singing to the moon at night, reciting sonnets alone in the woods, linen and silk, bathed in golden light, wax seals on love letters, pressed flowers in a journal, wanting to catch the stars and put them in the eyes of the one you love, the sweet scent of roses, ivy crawling up a cobblestone wall, a garden full of statues and plants that flint silver in the moonlight, sweet milk tea, daydreaming in a meadow

sci-fi: stargazing is a personality trait, deteriorating copies of sci-fu novels, coffee stained science magazines, a cork board full of conspiracies, squinting at the sky in search of life, believing there’s something more, tangled headphones, leather-bound dream journal, fog filled nights, psychoanalyzing, sticky note with the names of different theories scribbled on it that you need to research later, scrolling through wikipedia pages under your blanket when you should be sleeping, walkie talkies, a head full of wonder

urban: city lights blazing like stars, briskly walking down streets through the crisp air, drizzle fogging your glasses, hands in the pockets of a frayed coat, the overt dichotomy of light and dark, shadows in alleys and buzzing neon signs, dim bars and lit apartment windows, a small book shop crammed between a starbucks and bank, going to a vintage movie theater at the center of the city, mornings spent at the museum that’s free before noon, nights snuggled up in a blanket in your small, overpriced apartment as you read a book near the window and watch the city breathe

pt. 1