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cha0sinorder
Chaos In Order
inlovewith-icecream
I Dream At Night, I Can Only See Your Face
tallulagaak
Tallulah R
inlovewith-icecream
I Dream At Night, I Can Only See Your Face
inlovewith-icecream
I Dream At Night, I Can Only See Your Face
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The symbolism of flowers
Flowers have a long history of symbolism that you can incorporate into your writing to give subtext.
Symbolism varies between cultures and customs, and these particular examples come from Victorian Era Britain. You'll find examples of this symbolism in many well-known novels of the era!
Amaryllis: Pride
Black-eyed Susan: Justice
Bluebell: Humility
Calla Lily: Beauty
Pink Camellia: Longing
Carnations: Female love
Yellow Carnation: Rejection
Clematis: Mental beauty
Columbine: Foolishness
Cyclamen: Resignation
Daffodil: Unrivalled love
Daisy: Innocence, loyalty
Forget-me-not: True love
Gardenia: Secret love
Geranium: Folly, stupidity
Gladiolus: Integrity, strength
Hibiscus: Delicate beauty
Honeysuckle: Bonds of love
Blue Hyacinth: Constancy
Hydrangea: Frigid, heartless
Iris: Faith, trust, wisdom
White Jasmine: Amiability
Lavender: Distrust
Lilac: Joy of youth
White Lily: Purity
Orange Lily: Hatred
Tiger Lily: Wealth, pride
Lily-of-the-valley: Sweetness, humility
Lotus: Enlightenment, rebirth
Magnolia: Nobility
Marigold: Grief, jealousy
Morning Glory: Affection
Nasturtium: Patriotism, conquest
Pansy: Thoughtfulness
Peony: Bashfulness, shame
Poppy: Consolation
Red Rose: Love
Yellow Rose: Jealously, infidelity
Snapdragon: Deception, grace
Sunflower: Adoration
Sweet Willian: Gallantry
Red Tulip: Passion
Violet: Watchfulness, modesty
Yarrow: Everlasting love
Zinnia: Absent, affection
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Today in niche genres of joke that I can never get enough of and will probably still be secretly thinking about four years later
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I love "i would kill for you" ship dynamics but what about "i would stop killing" ship dynamic??
I would lay down my sword for you. I would change my nature and go against everything i've known. I would resist the easy way out of solving my problems. I would give up the adrenaline of battle to stay by your side and make tea instead. I'm not sure I know who I am without a weapon in my hand because I've had to fight for so long but for you I'm willing to try and figure this out.
It must be hard. To put down your weapon that's protected you for so long. It's allowed you to stay alive it's kept you from getting hurt--physically and mentally. Because you've never had to worry about a real relationship if you think you'll be dead at the next battle. And you feel naked without it and it feels like you're ripping off an extension of yourself. Are you even whole without it? Are you worthy of being loved if you can't prove it by risking your life? And yet they've found someone who's asking them for something much harder than dying in battle on their behalf. They've found someone who wants them to live. And that's much more terrifying.
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“There is rage in me the likes of which should never escape.”
Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
Art: Gust of Wind (La Bourrasque) Lucien Lévy-Dhurmer 1896
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Death of the author: Treating the author’s stated interpretation of their own work as merely one opinion among many, rather than the authoritative Word of God.
Disappearance of the author: Treating the context and circumstances of the work’s authorship as entirely irrelevant with respect to its interpretation, as though the work had popped into existence fully formed just moments ago.
Taxidermy of the author: Working backwards from a particular interpretation of the work to draw conclusions about what the context and circumstances of its authorship must have been.
Undeath of the author: Holding the author personally responsible for every possible reading of their work, even ones they could not reasonably have anticipated at the time of its authorship.
Frankenstein’s Monster of the author: Drawing conclusions about authorial intent based on elements that are present only in subsequent adaptations by other authors.
Weekend at Bernie’s of the author: Insisting that the author would personally endorse your interpretation of the work if they happened to be present.
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I'm the one who ruined me: I did it myself
No Longer Human // Ask Polly: Help, I'm The Loneliest Person In The World! // Franz Kafka // Sue Zhao // Fingertips - Fortesa Latifi // Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoevsky // Juansen Dizon // The Garden of Eden - Ernest Hemingway // On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous - Ocean Vuong
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taking off a mask to reveal what lies beneath as a romantic gesture is overdone, and besides i want to see the romantic or even platonic potential of protecting someone's identity beneath the mask, without any expectation of ever being allowed to see what's under it. picking it up and holding it gently to their face when it's knocked off and they're in danger of being exposed, without trying to catch a glimpse of what they "really" look like under there. throwing yourself in front of them to hide them from view while they put themselves back together without taking advantage or looking back to see what you're protecting. learning to read them by body language, tone of voice, and behaviour so well that you never need to see their face to feel like you know and understand them.
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There’s a thing called “competitive legal poetry”, which is just like any other legal battle except the lawyers are required to speak in rhyming couplets.
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favourite thing in the world is when the pages of a book go all soft and yellowy and the edges are slightly fuzzy and rounded. these books couldn’t give you a papercut if you tried they’ve been loved too much. they love you too much
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characters whose philosophy is “if i cannot be wanted, i will be needed and if i cannot be needed, let me be used until there’s nothing left of me.” thank you for everyone’s attention. falls off stage and dies
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wait till the tumblr girlies find out that in binary star systems sometimes one star will basically eat the other and kill them both - resulting in the most powerful thing a star could ever do in its life.
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C.S. Lewis once wrote,
"I sat with my anger long enough until she told me her real name was grief"
And I think we all needed to hear that.
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posts that make me want to rip my heart out part 5
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stories that are a matryoshka of unreliable narrators. you can't trust the person telling you the story. but then you realise that they don't even have much of a choice in the matter; the information they're operating on was told to them by an unreliable narrator. and when you interrogate their story, you realise that the lies go back even further. the tunnel goes deeper. how far are you willing to go to uncover the truth? how far will you actually get before you lose sight of what you came for in the first place?
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an incomplete collection of tweets i consider to be short poems
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