a3 ships as poetic descriptions
(originally from this twitter thread by me... feel free to request more ships if you want gshdagsdh)
anyway, some a3 ships in which i poetically describe their vibes bc... why not?
tenyuki but it's window shopping in winter, the glass fogging as they lean too close. driving out to nowhere late at night and screaming toward the stars. forest greens dotted with small white flowers. running barefoot in the dirt before putting back on their fancy shoes and designer scarves. it's winter again. above the glass door, a single bell chimes.
azumare but it's delicate paper wrappers and sticky sweets. a beach at nighttime. the rumble of a train to the last stop, where the platform is more weeds than cement. holding on to each other the same way you savor treats on your tongue. the light drizzle of rain at sunrise. finding more than one way home.
omimisu but it's sweatshirts in summer, and running in the rain. shivering in the sun-warmed grass as light shines through the leaves above you. lanterns that fly through the wind. letting yourself take too many table mints, and burning your fingers on coffee cups. cinnamon candies. condensation on your fingertips. edges sharpened and smoothed by sandpaper. giggling to each other, when you catch twin colds from the rain you ran in.
juban but it's the hum of an electric fan. sweat-soaked t-shirts and bare feet. a bright blue sky. yellow grass. cracking glowsticks under the mid-morning sun. dancing carelessly on rotting wood and spinning around the knots. a sudden downpour. a locked door. a clap of thunder. yellow grass between your toes as you catch rain on your tongue. the sky still feels like the perfect blue.
sakuten but it's sipping canned green tea on the swingset. warm pavement under trees of gold. a dusty cupboard, forced into the sunlight. exquisite wood carvings. bronze hinges. a crayon box, sitting on the inside. chalk drawings in the driveway, and unlocked metal gates at midnight. vanilla cookies and strawberry milk, shared under the stars.
banita but it's the wind whistling through the crack of a window. cold coffee on a humid afternoon. sodium lamps. a dinky capsule machine, close to breaking, filled with bright blue bubble gum. long nails with cracked polish, wet air and sticky lips. rushing outside with one shoe each, and laughing the whole way there. pebbles crunching under socked feet and sneakers, and beauty seen with bleary eyes.
misuita but it's birds lining up on the clothesline, backed by the light of the sun. socked toes buried in the couch, and striped pillows piled high on the floor. melting ice cream. the pale yellow edge of the sky. torn seams and loose ends, and white clothes dyed pink. skipping over the cracks in the pavement. running ahead. getting lost, and waiting with open arms to be found again.
