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Those beautiful things
And the eyes that see them
That you ran past searching for 'Beautiful Things'
The sleeping face of you who have departed for a journey to boundless land
I thought that it was the most beautiful thing...
muselist |
countervalue | 
fiertiassomarium | vatheon | luceti | paradisa | gargleblasted | soul_campaign01 October 2011 @ 12:21 am
09 June 2011 @ 05:59 pm
19 May 2011 @ 10:21 pm
11 May 2011 @ 10:31 am
13 April 2011 @ 11:21 pm
The after-school scene of classroom 3-6 is currently occupied today. I hope you're enjoying your paperwork, Tezuka, because Fuji's currently seated across from you, jamming away on his Nintendo D*rite with a look of abstract concentration on his face. Which, of course, means that he's probably more focused on figuring out the most efficient angle to block your light source in order to get you to start a conversation than actually playing whatever game he's supposedly playing.
He shifts a little over to the right, almost absent. The waning light from the window cascades over his back, which means it's probably not reaching your paperwork. A twitch of his lips -- success. He glances up from his game almost surreptitiously, a sliver of challenging blue.
Will you play?
He shifts a little over to the right, almost absent. The waning light from the window cascades over his back, which means it's probably not reaching your paperwork. A twitch of his lips -- success. He glances up from his game almost surreptitiously, a sliver of challenging blue.
Will you play?
02 March 2011 @ 07:04 pm
[We are now on the back of a giant turtle, slowly drifting its way across the ocean with slow, deliberate movements.
There is a palmtree on the turtle.
There is also a Fuji, who is blinking lazily up at the sky like it's the most natural thing to do.
A hum.]
Well, I can think of worse places to be.
There is a palmtree on the turtle.
There is also a Fuji, who is blinking lazily up at the sky like it's the most natural thing to do.
A hum.]
Well, I can think of worse places to be.
26 October 2010 @ 07:04 pm
[There is something oddly satisfying about slamming the door shut with enough force for the entire house to witness it echo twice. But it isn't satisfying enough. She ends up slamming two more doors on her way to the living room, then another when she decides that she doesn't want to go to the living room just yet, and makes her angry way to the kitchen, where she, after some rummage and a good deal of mumbling, procures a tub of ice-cream.
With her treat in hand, she stalks back to the living room, collapses onto the couch, and pries the lid open.
Many people mistake ice-cream as something genuinely odorless. It's not. The smell of dairy intermixes with the slight peppermint of the green-brown mixture. Or if it's sparkling pink, then it reeks of cherries. Sometimes, even the brown ones have a gentle waft to it, though she didn't and will probably never appreciate the flavor.
She appreciates this flavor, though. It's white, and it's only white. The smell, it's comforting.
She sits there for a while, watching as the top layer slowly sink in on itself.]
With her treat in hand, she stalks back to the living room, collapses onto the couch, and pries the lid open.
Many people mistake ice-cream as something genuinely odorless. It's not. The smell of dairy intermixes with the slight peppermint of the green-brown mixture. Or if it's sparkling pink, then it reeks of cherries. Sometimes, even the brown ones have a gentle waft to it, though she didn't and will probably never appreciate the flavor.
She appreciates this flavor, though. It's white, and it's only white. The smell, it's comforting.
She sits there for a while, watching as the top layer slowly sink in on itself.]
21 February 2010 @ 02:11 pm
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