#< so funny to call this ''''''poetry'''''' that i ''''''composed'''''' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

laneaconite · 2 months

Text

To my Lovely Onlookers: an Introduction!

For higher resolution images, look here

Hello, my name is Lane! I've been known to call myself a jack of all trades, but my heart's been set on authorship since the tender age of two.

Now, while my lifespan development textbooks like to call that premature identity foreclosure, I call it a dream. I'm creating this blog to archive my past and future works. What can initially be expected is a lot of poetry as well as some short prose pieces. The goal has always been to eventually work up to brick-length novels, but lately all I've got is poems pouring out of my ears. I'm composing them in my sleep. A lot of what I've written so far is about chronic pain, sapphism, transitional experiences, childhood, and trauma. Not every poem or prose piece is meant to be taken as a literal reflection of something that happened to me, but a lot of what I've written over the last few years have been in order to process my experiences. I find that I communicate best in rhetorical devices than in ordinary speech. This is extra funny (an inside joke to myself) because I spent the first fourteen years of my life as a self-declared poetry hater, despite my life long declaration of wanting to write. There were several things that caused me to reevaluate this stance, the primary three being: 1) If I didn't graduate high school I was never getting out of that horribly isolated, middle of nowhere town. 2) Writing was the only thing I knew I could be passionate about both in a personally fulfilling way, but also in a work way. Now, the only way I could successfully do that would be by forcing myself to engage with the entire other half of it I'd convinced myself I hated out of inadequate education. 3) Reading Maya Angelou's book, Poems (1981). We were given a large analysis project of one poet's whole collected works (or the closest edition we could find) and I chose Angelou because I remembered an excerpt from I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings (1969) being read aloud to my 7th grade class. It was her rhythm, rhetorical depth, and her humor that reformed my entire approach to the genre. I can't thank her enough.

"So," one might be asking, "Where does The Peach With Teeth fit into this, though?" And ohohohoh! The Peach With Teeth is several things. Primarily, I spent five months painstakingly embroidering it to be the cover of a hand-bound poetry chapbook. At this point, however, I'm thinking more of a compendium for the amount of poems I have, and for how many I'll write before I learn how to book bind. So, in that meantime the Peach is the cover of this blog.

The Peach is also a poem that I wrote in September of 2022, which is included below. That peach was deprived of teeth, tongue, and uvula, but had a more grounded horror within.

The Peach

I rinse the fuzz off, gently In the sink. The skin is a sunset of yellow, Magenta, pink. The first bite is honey sweet, The flesh slippery, My teeth peel away the skin I eat.

A bitter taste begins in my periphery And I see brown spreading around, Like a core. The tender sweet flesh peels away From its darkened sore.

Disgust rises in my body but I persist I eat the dripping good parts, I eat until the bad parts come too And they come veined with blue The pit itself, peeled back Is dusted with mold.

The poem is both a literal thing that happened—I did eat a moldy peach even though I saw an off patch on its skin and I could have stopped—also a metaphor. It's about seeing the signs that this won't end well, but needing another bite of sweetness to satiate that ache. It's about overconfidence and ignoring one's instincts. After a long while of hunger, the bitterness gets easier to ignore. That Peach and the Peach With Teeth, and many other Peaches can be expected to appear in my work. It's not my fault, I swear: my family had a peach tree in the backyard growing up. And if you, my darling reader, haven't tasted a sun-warmed peach right off the branch in late summer: I'm so sorry. The ones in the grocery store just don't compare when they're picked early to be shipped across country and thusly chemically ripened. They never get so thoroughly sweet through injected ethylene as by sunlight. It's only the skin that turns pink and softens, with the inside remaining hard, crisp, off-yellow. That these peaches are the only kind I can eat now, meaning I don't eat peaches, are part of what informed the teeth. Finally, the Peach With Teeth and her cousin The Peach poem have to be acknowledged for their sensual, even sexual, elements. 7/10 friends who I have shown The Peach With Teeth to have said "that looks like a vulva." Now, this was utterly unintentional, but when all your pretty queer friends say it enough times, you start to give up examine the metaphor closer. It's been said often that peaches and this girl right here 🍑 are used as euphemisms for the vulva/vagina. Now, when people are reduced to just their genitals, that's objectification. Not to say that the euphemism always is, as I can imagine some sappy sapphic love note tucked to sleep on a shelf somewhere. When I designed my embroidery pattern, I chose teeth for a core because of the utter contrast between the soft sweet flesh and the hard bone-bite of a chipped tooth. I was imagining it biting back and drawing blood. This is where my accident, the final image reading far more sensually than originally planned, synthesizes the ideas that have been rolling around in my head this whole time. It's about visceral misperception, of leaning to close to the lantern's gentle glow only for the grinning monster holding it to bite your head clean off. It becomes a euphemism flipped on its head: no more soft, sweet, hairless, harmless peaches. What we've got are teeth and tongues, a jaw unhinged but ready to snap right down at any time. Now, of course, to many of my 7/10 friends, this is still sexy.

#writing #poetry #introduction #blog intro #lane speaks #fun fact the teeth are based on xrays & dental photos of my own teeth #& for embroidery pals I used 1 strand dmc thread for all but the tongue. that was 2 strands #embroidery

9 notes · View notes

onlineproblems · 1 month

Text

accidentally woke up with a side part for the first time since like 2009 lmao. having an identity crisis.

ramblings:

according to my doctor's records I've lost 15 pounds over the last year or so. gratifying to see tangible evidence because I've been responding well to drug therapy which allows me to be more active than i was... basically ever. hoping i can keep building strength and avoid the wheelchair scenario most people with my disorder face eventually.

doctor also said gene therapy is looking more promising which is CRAZY. i could actually never have to worry about it again. eat whatever i want, do whatever i want, not worry about insurance paying gazillions for medication all the time. have marathon sex... haha jk. unless...

also cara mia floated the idea of going to the east coast for a trip sometime, which would involve seeing Boston, Walden Pond, AND the X files museum just for me <3<3<3<3 just gotta make sure our car isn't too shitty to get us there lel

my brother is getting married in may which means a four hour drive to the venue and my newly divorced mom potentially bringing her online bf as a bad surprise. my dad will be performing the fundamentalist self-flaying the whole time, wondering how he sinned to be punished this way. this will be fun.

however i am glad my new SIL has a way to gtfo, even if it's via marriage into my wack ass family, because her parents do shit like track her phone while she's at college or at work, or call her a whore for wearing leggings. bruh.

I'm in the stage of forming friendships with several people where i feel like every other thing i say is extremely cringe. i hang out with this group on a fairly regular basis and they're all at least 10 years older than me, which is nbd i love making friends with older people, but they just always seem so much cooler than me and i have no idea how to read social cues lmao. there's this kick-ass lesbian couple, one woman is an English teacher who writes and performs poetry, the other is a musician and skater and software dev; then there's my yoga instructor who studied musicology and djs, and her friend who's an artist, plus her husband who is also a musician and dj and software developer, and his friend who's an artist, and another woman who bakes like she's fucking mary berry, and all of them are so funny and smart and cool. i know i have a lot to offer talent and personality-wise but good lord i feel like a single Christmas light in a room full of lighthouses. hey --they're still hanging out with me though lol

when my voice and stamina return to me I'm providing vocals on a track my husband composed. very excited :)))

8 notes · View notes

jdaviswords · 2 months

Text

*PSA - Long post warning*

Man, no lie…I’ve really been mulling over how I was going to type this out that would appeal to folks scrolling through their timelines for weeks. And I’ve figured that the best way to do that would be to compose what I’m thinking/feeling right now concisely. Unfortunately, it’s just not going to be something I am able to do. So while I appreciate you reading this far, you’ve been warned should you continue.

The Leftovers is a sequel to another project that I worked on called The Funnies. It was spearheaded by one of my closest friends, James (also known as, Bone). The Funnies was a culmination of both of our works that were written over a decade ago, sewn together, and highlighted James and myself as artists. It connected musical composition and spoken word. In our opinions…it was unique.

Before I continue, I must also emphasize that James and I are not the only two involved in the making of The Funnies or The Leftovers. So many folks played part in them for no other benefit than to be a part of expression. And should The Funnies or The Leftovers be listened only once, that notion itself is a victory for us.

The Funnies left off with the character I created standing at the top of a volcano, hence the inspiration behind the album art cover for The Leftovers (shout out Kojau). The Leftovers was inspired by two major things:

a.) An excess catalog of work that was in consideration for The Funnies that never made it

b.) James McCann

It’s nerve racking putting yourself out there and without my friends and family supporting me on this, it doesn’t exist. Setting that aside, I’m putting inside this ramble, that I am proud of myself. Because I am. And also for future reference on those tougher days.

If you’re still here, I would like to elaborate just a little bit more…

The Leftovers is purposeful in its design. It’s chronology has been discussed at length, and so from the intro of Impoverished War Machine to the outro of I Write, it is intentional how they sequent one another. With that, I do believe the individual pieces can stand alone, but are better served collectively (like a pin collection). Those last parentheses won’t make sense to the most of you, unless you take a dive inside that volcano with me. Then I’d have no other choice than to Call It like it is, state a welcome, and then ask…Where Have You Been?

Now that you’ve left behind your Intimidation to Jump, Where Are You Now? Where Do You Go when you’ve lost The Idea Of Me? I type this as tonight’s version of Night Thoughts and I am so thrilled to Mash Up these song titles as I take a deep breath of Oxygen and exhale. I figured after I couldn’t put the words together originally, eventually I’d find The Right Way. I knew that once I started, it would roll together like A B C and it would showcase again me being me Unapologetically. I’m steady running now, like Two Knobs and a Faucet.

Today I turn 31 years old. It is my birthday and I’ll admit that it’s the ugliest feeling birthday I’ve felt yet. I know that’s a feeling which will subside. In the interim, I am choosing to focus on my next Smoothie Sip, and not be bogged down in negativity like a sailor walking The Plank.

I am so grateful for what writing has given my life. And while the vulnerability of this project is evident, being able to share with you a piece of my passion is both a blessing and an honor.

Lastly, (and I swear I am done after this) I would like to leave you with the mission statement for The Leftovers, as I truly feel it encapsulates the album in a shortened version of what is written above:

The Leftovers is a project inspired by spoken word, music, and friendship. The album is a unique interpretation of slam poetry and meshes with it, the love of music. It is captivating, playful, and thought provoking. Its design is geared towards the premise of embracing vulnerability and showcasing artistry. The Leftovers will take the listener to a place of reflection and enlightenment driven by its rhyming and word play. It highlights the art of writing and touches on aspects of expression, mental health, politics and more.

Inspired by a passion of words, The Leftovers (as already mentioned) is the sequel to another project called The Funnies. While similar in design, The Leftovers is my first ever fully spoken word album that truly embodies myself as a writer.

“…but even in my uniqueness, it means nothing, unless it reaches someone…and teaches them…something…or breaches a curiosity. I hope I can be inspiring for those who are tiring from the beat down of this crazy society.”

– Intimidation to Jump

One Love,

-Jdav (Justin Davis)

Spotify - https://open.spotify.com/album/31kzYT00XSU74Q0quHOsZx?si=5wlZxGpkTJ6UPdVnSXGlPg

Apple Music - https://music.apple.com/us/album/the-leftovers/1728930211

YouTube Music - https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=OLAK5uy_mQGXZqAuqFFrx8uTBnmryBm0_y5ET3R5w&si=diM1dAqinak8FZe4

Distrokid - https://distrokid.com/hyperfollow/jdav3/the-leftovers?fbclid=PAAaYZQ2K1X81V6Zco3hM8_ywdyo7QGUJUOT-C8E4y7AOgLTu8eQKHrmiLhRE_aem_ARIv9F3Eyu9tEjMzdhzZXBDDN-QmP3MpQwijMM9oZZvswaxYo2v44018mRnWtQ_zK-g

4 notes · View notes

duologies · 2 months

Text

huang yuanfei character study (completed feb. 19) consisting of 3525 words. i had a blast writing this and i hope you have just as much fun reading it. rest is under the cut ☆ ～('▽^人)

Spring had slowly started creeping in after a long and persistent winter. It had been a few days after the new year celebrations, and Huang Yuanfei had been quite busy running around performing exorcisms and providing blessings. Now, he was looking forward to enjoying the myriad gifts he had received. Being so renowned had some downsides, but Huang Yuanfei considered it a small price to pay for the admiration of many.

Presently he was sitting in his room and enjoying a cup of excellent aged white tea. The flavour was not as sweet as he was used to, but it had a depth to it that his preferred type of tea, white peony, lacked. As he was savouring the tea, a golden swallow flew into his room through the window and perched on his shoulder. It chirped a message that only Huang Yuanfei could understand, and his face fell. He sighed, then waved the bird off. Reluctantly, he finished his cup of tea, then rose and went to get properly dressed. He made sure to drag the routine out for as long as possible, just to spite whoever had come calling. Then he slipped his sword out from under his pillow and left his room to receive his visitor.

A rather young-looking boy was waiting in the main hall; he appeared to be about thirteen years old. He was looking around the house with barely disguised excitement and curiosity. When he noticed Huang Yuanfei enter the hall, he quickly snapped to attention and tried to look as serious as possible. Huang Yuanfei resisted the urge to laugh. He smoothly produced a smoking pipe from his lapels, then motioned for the boy to sit. A low table appeared between them, complete with a pot of green tea and two teacups. The pot floated over and poured tea into each of their cups, then set itself back on the table.

“You said your message was urgent,” Huang Yuanfei said, trying not to sound too bored. He took a drag of his pipe and blew out a smoke ring.

“Y-yes! I come on behalf of the Gao family. There’s been several kidnappings, and a vicious bull spirit has made himself known…”

Now Huang Yuanfei was blowing different shapes with the smoke from his pipe: a swallow, a dragon, a butterfly… Was he even paying attention? The messenger trailed off in the middle of his explanation, uncertain of whether to continue.

Huang Yuanfei glanced from the smoke to the messenger and raised an eyebrow. “Well? Do continue.” Another drag from his pipe. “I am listening.”

You sure have a funny way of showing it, the messenger grumbled internally. He continued, “Well, this bull spirit has been terrorizing the Gao family and the area they live in. The bull spirit has already kidnapped numerous women to be his wives, and demands tribute from the richest families in the area.”

The Gao family was landed gentry and presided over the town of Xiliu along with other scholarly families. Although Xiliu was remote and relatively small, it was famous for producing two things: tea and scholars. Its quiet, idyllic scenery was seen as an ideal environment for raising scholars, and many travelled there to taste the tea and compose poetry. Many scholarly families had moved to Xiliu early on and established their foothold there. Tea makers and merchants followed suit. At first, Huang Yuanfei considered it strange that a bull spirit like this would settle in Xiliu. What could a bunch of scholars and tea makers offer him? But the more he thought about it, the more it started to make sense. There were still plenty of merchants in Xiliu, and gentry families like the Gao were quite well-off. Additionally, Xiliu was remote, which made it harder for the residents there to send for help and easier for the bull spirit to establish dominion. Perhaps this bull spirit was smarter than Huang Yuanfei initially thought.

In their desperation, the Gao family had pooled their resources with the other rich or scholarly families to acquire as much help as possible. Several prominent sects and solitary cultivators had been summoned by the Gao family. It was their hope that by throwing money and people at the problem, it would be solved quickly. Huang Yuanfei did not fault them, nor did he complain. Business was business, after all. As the son of a merchant, he understood this all too well.

The boy finished relaying his message. Huang Yuanfei waved him off. Then he waved away the low table and tea set before getting up. He took a few puffs on his pipe while mulling over the situation. Huang Yuanfei was sorely tempted to ignore the summons outright; today was meant to be his day off, and he felt a little annoyed that his leisure had been disturbed. But the more he considered it, the more intrigued he became. Perhaps it would be worth it, just to see what this bull spirit was like. It would prove more interesting than lounging at home, at least. Ultimately Huang Yuanfei resigned himself to the arduous task of doing something while on leave and set off for Xiliu.

It took mere hours to arrive at his destination. Huang Yuanfei gracefully alighted from his cloud, lazily fanning himself. He was greeted by the sound of an unfriendly voice.

“You’re late.”

Huang Yuanfei smiled. It was not sincere at all. “On the contrary, my friend. I always arrive precisely when I mean to.”

The other cultivator’s eye twitched. “Do you realize how long we have been waiting? The Gao family refused to start with someone absent. Do you do this on purpose?”

“I do not know how long you have waited, nor do I care,” Huang Yuanfei answered coolly. “You should consider yourself fortunate that I have deigned to grace Xiliu with my presence at all.” With that, Huang Yuanfei snapped his fan shut and strode away, leaving the other man to seethe in indignant silence.

As a show of gratitude and hospitality, the Gao family had organized a grand banquet to welcome all the cultivators. The great sects each had their own tables, while the solitary cultivators sat in groups of their own choosing. Huang Yuanfei, however, sat alone. He was absently puffing on his pipe when he noticed a woman in a pink ruqun sit down nearby. Unable to resist the urge to show off, he switched from blowing smoke rings to more unusual shapes: squares, triangles, and even characters. At this point the woman was watching him with obvious interest, and four or five others had slowly come over. They all watched Huang Yuanfei with rapt attention.

Huang Yuanfei switched tricks again. A wave of giggles rippled through the group of women as they watched Huang Yuanfei blow smoke clouds in various shapes. The shapes coalesced into the forms of different mythical creatures: qilin, dragons, and phoenixes. They galloped, swam, or flew their way through the crowd. The woman in the pink ruqun spoke up, “Very impressive, Huang-gongzi!”

Huang Yuanfei smiled. “Just a little parlour trick,” he said evenly. “You have not seen anything truly impressive yet.”

“What else can you do?” the woman asked eagerly.

In response, Huang Yuanfei took a puff of his pipe, then exhaled. Instead of a cloud of smoke, a plume of flame burst forth. The flame was of a pale pink colour and formed itself into the shape of a lotus before bursting into a shower of harmless embers. Delighted gasps and giggles broke out anew. Huang Yuanfei leaned back and smirked, clearly pleased with himself.

The other cultivators looked on as discreetly as possible. They all thought the same thing: What a pompous peacock.

Huang Yuanfei noticed their gaze and winked at them. The others furtively averted their glances. Huang Yuanfei laughed, then continued entertaining the group of women.

Eventually, the banquet drew to a close. The women flitted away one by one, except the one in the pink ruqun. She boldly stepped forward and introduced herself.

“My family name is Gao, and my given name is Meilin,” she said as she bowed.

“Ah, Gao-guniang, is it?” Huang Yuanfei bowed back. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Gao Meilin giggled. “Did you enjoy the banquet?”

“I enjoyed it very much. Of course, meeting my lady has greatly improved the experience.”

“You certainly have a way with words,” Gao Meilin replied, smiling openly. “I sense a kindred spirit in you, Huang-gongzi. Shall we talk on the way to your quarters?”

Huang Yuanfei inclined his head in assent. “If that is what my lady wishes.”

Gao Meilin, Huang Yuanfei found, was an exceedingly interesting woman. She showed great interest in the pursuit of cultivation and devoured whatever material she could get her hands on with ravenous enthusiasm. Using her family’s resources, she also sought the expertise of whatever masters she could find. Her parents had indulged her pursuit for some time, but after a few years had decided that enough was enough and prohibited her from going near cultivation sects. As a result, Gao Meilin had resorted to studying in private and snuck out as often as possible. The predicament with the bull spirit had been the perfect opportunity for her to advance her studies.

“To be honest, at first I only approached you because I felt too awkward talking to anyone else,” Gao Meilin admitted. “It felt strange to just walk up to the great cultivation families and ask them to take me on, and the solitary cultivators were in their own worlds. You just seemed the most interesting.”

“I tend to have that effect,” Huang Yuanfei replied half-jokingly.

Gao Meilin laughed. By this point they had reached the guest wing of the house. They stopped in front of Huang Yuanfei’s room. Rather reluctantly, Gao Meilin bid Huang Yuanfei good night, with the promise that she would find time to properly discuss cultivation matters with him. Then she left Huang Yuanfei to his own devices.

Alone at last, Huang Yuanfei finally started to unwind. He removed his hair pins before letting down his hair. Then he cleaned his face, washing off the eyeshadow and false mole. Finally, he removed his outer robes. Xiliu was somewhat cold, so he kept his middle layer on. Huang Yuanfei slipped into bed and wrapped the blankets around himself like a cocoon. He had always loathed the cold, and now he somewhat regretted coming out all this way. But it would not do to back out now, especially since he had made an arrangement with Gao Meilin. He resigned himself to sleeping like this; at least the matter would be dealt with quickly.

Huang Yuanfei woke at the crack of dawn. He rose from his nest of blankets and was about to go to his vanity mirror when he remembered that he was in Xiliu. Sighing in annoyance, Huang Yuanfei went about his morning routine, sans mirror. When he was finished, he went back to the bed, rummaged around for Ruihan, then left his room for the grand hall.

The heads of the great sects and the solitary cultivators had already gathered. When the others noticed Huang Yuanfei enter the hall, their expressions instantly darkened. Huang Yuanfei smiled sweetly at them in response. Before anyone could make any comments on Huang Yuanfei’s punctuality, the echoing ring of a gong rippled through the hall. Everyone turned to see a young servant boy–Huang Yuanfei recognized him as the messenger he met with the previous day–and a man in his forties standing by the gong. The man was no doubt Gao Liang, the Gao family head. He stepped forward and cleared his throat.

“My sincerest gratitude to my lords for coming to Xiliu’s aid in this desperate hour. Allow me to explain the situation in more detail. As you all know, a formidable bull spirit has taken residence in Xiliu, demanding tribute in the form of riches and brides. His name is Li Wang. The exact location of his lair remains unknown, so our plan is to assign an area to each sect and groups of solitary cultivators to patrol. That way, Li Wang can be caught faster.”

Everyone nodded in acknowledgement and went back to their quarters to make preparations. However, as Huang Yuanfei approached his room, he heard a voice call him from behind.

“Huang-gongzi, Huang-gongzi!”

Huang Yuanfei stopped mid-stride and pivoted to face the person in one fluid motion. He smiled lightly. “Greetings, Gao-guniang. What does my lady need me for?”

Gao Meilin stopped to catch her breath. “Huang-gongzi, I overheard Father in the grand hall. Does that mean you’re going out to find Li Wang now?”

Huang Yuanfei inclined his head. “Gao-guniang is correct. I have some preparations to make, then I shall head out at once. My lady need not worry; I will make short work of Li Wang.”

“Of course I’m not worried about that. I have every confidence that you will succeed.” Gao Meilin paused. “I actually have a request to make: could I come with you? This is the perfect opportunity to gain actual experience. I promise that I’ll be careful and follow whatever instruction you give.”

“I am afraid that is not possible. It is much too dangerous for my lady to come with me. Your father would have my head if he found out.”

Gao Meilin sensed that it would be futile to argue. However, she did not completely give up in trying to help. She slipped out a talisman from her sleeve and presented it to Huang Yuanfei with both hands. “Then take this. It’s a protection charm that I made myself.”

Huang Yuanfei accepted the talisman with both hands. “Gao-guniang has my heartfelt gratitude. I shall return before long.” He left with a whirl of his sleeves, leaving Gao Meilin to stare at his retreating figure.

It did not take long for Huang Yuanfei to reach his assigned area. There were three other cultivators waiting at the rendezvous point, all junior disciples, and each from a different sect. They did not regard Huang Yuanfei with the same contempt or exasperation their leaders had; in fact, they seemed wary but curious. Huang Yuanfei flashed them his signature sweet smile. He slipped out his fan, snapped it open, and started slowly fanning himself.

“Well? Has anyone come up with a strategy?” asked Huang Yuanfei.

The three juniors glanced at each other awkwardly. Then one wearing green robes suggested hesitantly, “Should we stick together? Splitting up might overwhelm us, especially if we’re caught off guard. We don’t know what tricks Li Wang has up his sleeve.”

Huang Yuanfei nodded. “Mm, very good. I see that your sect leader is at least somewhat competent at teaching.” He snapped his fan shut. “If there is nothing else, let us begin.”

The group started on their patrol without further delay. They had been on patrol for only a short time before they heard a large crash. Huang Yuanfei drew his sword, and the junior disciples followed suit. A huge, hulking figure had tumbled its way onto the horizon. The area the group had been assigned to was relatively flat, allowing them a clear view. Huang Yuanfei noticed the figure’s massive horns. He signalled for the juniors to remain silent. The hulking figure drew closer. He looked up, finally saw the group, and visibly blanched. Frantically, he started scanning his surroundings, but it was too late. Huang Yuanfei called out, voice friendly, as if he were merely commenting on the weather.

“Li Wang, how fortuitous that we have crossed paths here today. It definitely saves me the trouble of having to look for you.”

Li Wang glared. “So this is what the Gao family had cooked up. I had managed to escape the other patrols, but I guess I wasn’t so lucky this time.”

“One does have to wonder just how you managed to evade capture for so long. You are not exactly stealthy nor graceful.”

“I wouldn’t have to run around like this if you cultivators weren’t such cowards. If you had the guts to face me head-on, I would’ve easily defeated all of you!”

“Oh, so it’s a one-on-one duel you want? Very well.” Huang Yuanfei lifted Ruihan and pointed it at Li Wang. “Let us duel.”

Li Wang wasted no time and charged straight for Huang Yuanfei. He easily stepped aside, then landed a powerful kick, forcing Li Wang off course. Li Wang nearly toppled over from the impact. He thought to himself, Shit! This prettyboy is tougher than he looks. Whirling around, Li Wang unsheathed a massive saber. He charged again, then swung his saber up in a mighty arc. Huang Yuanfei blocked the blow. Sparks flew when their blades met; the sharp screech of metal rasping against metal rang through the clearing. Blades crossed, Li Wang tried to push Huang Yuanfei back and gain more ground, but found that Huang Yuanfei was equally stubborn. Huang Yuanfei kicked Li Wang’s right leg, forcing the bull spirit down on one knee. Li Wang tried to slash at Huang Yuanfei, but he somersaulted out of reach and landed with a flourish.

Growing frustrated, Li Wang pushed himself up and was about to charge yet again when Huang Yuanfei lightly flicked the bell hanging from the end of Ruihan’s handle. A piercing cacophony of noise drilled its way into Li Wang’s skull. He collapsed back to the ground, clutching his head in pain. Huang Yuanfei stepped closer leisurely. The juniors looked on in shocked disbelief.

“I graciously took the time to come all the way to Xiliu, only to be met with disappointment. I had mistakenly considered you a worthy opponent. A miscalculation on my part.”

Li Wang did not respond; his head was still pounding with pain. Huang Yuanfei signalled for the juniors to bind Li Wang. “Our work here is done. Let us return to the Gao family estate.” He took out his fan and snapped it open, leaving without even sparing Li Wang a glance. The juniors scrambled to follow.

Huang Yuanfei’s group was the first to arrive. The servant boy gaped at them, dumbfounded. Huang Yuanfei raised an eyebrow at him; the boy hurried off to notify Gao Liang. Shortly after a signal flare shot up into the sky, exploding in a rain of red sparks. Huang Yuanfei tucked away his fan and exchanged it with his smoking pipe. The other groups slowly trickled in. When they saw Huang Yuanfei smugly standing by with Li Wang, idly puffing on his pipe, they immediately had to look away to conceal their indignation. Huang Yuanfei smirked, then turned to Gao Liang.

“Well? Li Wang has been captured. I expect you know what to do next.”

“Yes, yes, it’s all been prepared for you. Will you stay for the farewell banquet?”

“I think not. I have had quite enough of Xiliu.”

With a flick of his sleeves, he went off to his room. A large chest was waiting for him, neatly tucked beside the bed. Huang Yuanfei crouched down and opened it; as he expected, the chest was filled to the brim with gold. Satisfied, he shut the chest, then tapped it with his pipe. The chest disappeared in a puff of smoke. Huang Yuanfei got up and left his room. He had made it all the way out to the Gao family estate’s main gate when he heard a familiar voice.

“Huang-gongzi, wait!”

Huang Yuanfei turned around. He smiled genuinely for the first time since coming to Xiliu. “Gao-guniang.”

“You’re leaving already? What about the farewell banquet?”

“I see no reason to linger any longer. Besides, I have matters to attend to back home.”

“I see…” Gao Meilin looked dejected.

Huang Yuanfei, still smiling, said, “Meeting my lady was easily the most worthwhile part of this whole excursion. If nothing else, I am glad to have made your acquaintance.”

Gao Meilin perked up a little at this. She smiled back. “Does that mean we’ll meet again?”

“If fate wills it.” A pause, then Huang Yuanfei continued, “However, if fate works too slowly, then I know several good teahouses that we can go to. I will always make time for my lady.”

Gao Meilin laughed. “Alright then. I’ll hold you to that, so you had better not forget!”

Huang Yuanfei inclined his head in acknowledgment. Then he said, “Ah, one more thing before I depart.” He produced a golden brooch in the shape of a swallow from thin air. Huang Yuanfei presented the brooch to Gao Meilin with both hands.

Gao Meilin took the brooch, dumbfounded. It was a while before she found her voice. “Is this really for me?”

“Think nothing of it; the brooch is merely a little trinket to remember me by.” Huang Yuanfei turned to leave. He mounted his cloud and ascended a short distance. Then, he looked back and said, “I do hope that I will have the great honour and pleasure of meeting my lady again.”

Before Gao Meilin could reply, Huang Yuanfei turned and sped off, becoming a mere speck on the horizon in moments.

#entry #shl #the downside to uploading my writing to tumblr is that it gets rid of all my formatting. what the fuck ever.

5 notes · View notes

mogai-sunflowers · 1 year

Note

(Same Anon) the part where you talk about where your just an artsy person in general!! I honestly think that’s amazing and I’d love to know more!!! :3 I’m actually hoping to learn a lot more instruments as well! :D

ahhhhh thank you :3

so yeah I’m generally a really artsy person but not in the typical way like. I would really love to know how to draw and paint but I can’t do either of those things to save my life- but I’m really artsy in other ways!

like, I’ve been writing in every sense of the word since kindergarten. I wrote my first songs then, and I’ve been getting some of my poetry published since 4th grade. I have many notebooks just filled with my poetry!

I also wrote a lot of books! I’ve written around 5 full-length novels, and I absolutely love character creation and development! I’m currently working on a story called ‘found’, which is about five queer people who meet at the homeless shelter where they stay and become close and kind of like a found family unit!

I’m also big into video editing! I create video edits, funny videos, and at my internship at my high school I make accompaniment videos that play along with pieces at the school’s concerts!

and speaking of music, I’ve always been huge into it! Like I said, I’ve been writing songs since I was 6, which is also when I started playing piano! I picked up violin in 4th grade so I’ve been playing it for around 10 years, and I picked up the viola and the cello to play for my school orchestra because we didn’t have enough of those players!

I also play ukulele and guitar, though they’re not my main instruments. But I’d have to say that, even though I love piano and violin the most, the most fun instrument that I play is xylophone because it’s so unique and it’s just really cool!!

I also compose music now too! I mainly write musical score accompaniments for my own songs that I wrote, but I’ve also done a few arrangements for other songs- I actually composed a three-part duet for ‘love is just a word’ by Jasmine Thompson and calum Scott and performed it at my school!

artsy stuff is truly my life and it’s how I express myself and it’s also how I coordinate my outfits too so it’s a big part of my gender presentation :333

what’s art like in your life nonny?

#🌌written in the stars ; asks 🌌

6 notes · View notes

irarosleneeee · 1 year

Text

"I want to write"

My life has always been heavily influenced by literature. I write whenever I'm happy. I write whenever I sense a wave of strong emotions rushing over me. I take a piece of paper and just start writing whenever I feel as though the world is ending and my melancholy will be the last emotion I experience before passing away. That way, I can somehow imagine that the pen would be the cure for my conflicted feelings and that it will take it away, making me feel much better than I did before. As they say, write all your issues away. It is that simple. Though it is difficult to pinpoint exactly the factor that draws us to literature, I'd like to presume that everyone's experience is unique. Just as I would never deem myself a math expert or even faintly, mildly "good" at math, which is fine, some individuals have a knack for reading whereas others may not.

I've always admired writers for their ability to express their ideas in words. Their imaginative creativity has such a profound effect on those readers, like me, who view literature as their means of adventure. Their exquisite, creative use of words and phrases, the organic blending of complex terms, the pictures, and the processes of the mind, Alliteration and word sounds that are closely related to actions are used to set a mood: all of which are beautiful and it takes skill. Some authors can even leave you feeling as though you are there in person while others may make your heart race with anxiety or anticipation. All of that results in stunning writing.

Growing up as a child I loved reading and being read to.

I was a curious kid. Many books were scattered, some are organized into its respective place in a shelf far from my reach. The thought of me having to call out my mom for her to get it for me still stays a funny memory on my mind up to this day. I'm glad to say that, at the age of 17, I am able to choose my own books. Extending my story, I have always loved the concept of fantasy novels and read about them frequently as a child. Up until this point, the idea of reading about princesses, enchantment, and happily ever after’s has been incredibly intriguing to me. I vividly recall the moment I rummaged through my lola's bookshelves and discovered books with little to no content of tales of a prince and a princess; it turned out that a literature book had unexpectedly revealed itself to me. Nonetheless, I was still able to comprehend the bulk of it, and the only plot I could recall was the complexity of the words considering I was still a little child. On that day, I promised myself that I wouldn't let such unfamiliar words cause me to feel foolish in the future. I suppose I do dread the unfamiliar, but that's perfectly normal. It instead pushed me to explore more of literature.

I had this idea that I should compile all of my ideas into a book. So I did. But since I was just starting off, I instead posted some of my early writing on my writing account while I was in the eighth grade. Since I was interested in watching animations of all genres at the time, it was primarily made up of fan fictions featuring my favorite characters. I believe my writing abilities have increased during those times. I am also really grateful for the acquaintances I made and the constructive feedback they offered on my work in hopes of letting me develop and discover more about it. Nevertheless, as I got older and busier, it became harder for me to freely do what I want to do given how packed and hectic my schedule was. Instead of composing as I usually do, I've been reading stories that have caught my attention as an alternative for the lack of time. I quit writing because of writer's block as well, but occasionally, when I'm encouraged, I would compose narratives and poetry.

I was happiest when I could express my thoughts in writing. But admittedly, as I grew older, life got in the way of my childhood fantasies. I gained lessons through disappointment and heartache. Tales lost their purpose, and the idea of a happily ever after appeared unattainable. Yet, I am the happiest when I am expressing myself in ways that I adore. In light of the incredible things writing can accomplish for my mind, literature has a special place in my heart. It allows me to experience sensations I've never felt before, acknowledge feelings I've repressed and realize I'm never alone.

Literature is where my heart and mind become one after all.

2 notes · View notes

willowstreetstories · 2 years

Text

Let's Make a Personal History with Senryu! Masayoshi Sugiyama

　Hi everyone, nice to meet you. I'm Masayoshi Sugiyama, a senryu writer!　I'm in my 60s now, and I've lived my whole life being made fun of and saved by senryu.

　I'm in my 60s now, and I've been laughed at and saved by senryu for a long time. Salaryman senryu and XX senryu are popular in the world, aren't they? Why is that? Because they are soothing to write. Try writing about your demon boss or your horrible wife. Try writing about your own failures in a funny way. When you do that, you can make that jerk or your screw-up look cute. Senryu poetry has a way of capturing the subtleties of the heart and turning them into laughter.

　Once upon a time, when I was heartbroken for the first time in my life (laughs). It was very painful, but I was able to look at myself objectively when I tried to write in 5, 7, 5. When I was in a tavern and another person was watching me stumbling around, it was strangely soothing. It's like an astral projection (laughs).

distant thunder, the birth of a child by a person who has parted

I look so cute when I was seriously depressed

　Of course, if you just want to vent your emotions, blogs and Twitter are fine. But what's different about senryu is that it has a pattern and a principle. If you apply your feelings to a few principles on the assumption that others will see your work, you can create a beautiful work of only 17 syllables.

　In this series of articles, I will introduce you to the wide world of senryu without any formalities. Please read it as if you were visiting a culture class.

　Since this is the first installment, let me start by telling you what senryu is all about.

Human close-up!

　If you are Japanese, you know that senryu is 5-7-5. So, how does it differ from haiku, a short poetic art form that also originated from renga? In a rough way, haiku is a landscape painting and senryu is a portrait painting.

Haiku

　Two cats in spring, whiter than snow (Takahama Kyoshi)

　Two houses in front of a big river in the May rain (Yosa Buson)

　The world is as beautiful as a Japanese painting or ink drawing. What about the other willow?

The other senryu is...

　I think I've been charmed by your amiability.

　The fly escaped, but quietly opened its hand.

　I wonder if you have any experience with this. When you catch a fly with both hands... Oh, you just saw it escape, didn't you? But you can't help expecting it.

　Do you understand the difference between a landscape painting and a portrait painting? In this way, Senryu is a close-up of the human mind. There are also haiku that express human emotions (joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure) in 5-7-5, such as Taneda Santoka and Ozaki Hosai.

　In recent years, haiku has been expressing more and more mental images, and the boundary between haiku and semryu has become blurred. However, please think of senryu as a way to compose humanistic 5-7-5 poems without being bound by the seasons.

　That's the basic premise.

Modern senryu is a "self-portrait."

　There are two kinds of portraits: those of "others" and those of "oneself.

　Senryu is a popular literary art form that originated in Edo (now Tokyo) during the Edo period (1603-1868), and depicting others is a traditional way of writing senryu. The current affairs senryu poems published by newspapers and the "XX senryu poems" solicited by companies follow this trend. They are poems about politicians who are not good at their jobs.

　But the modern senryu that I do is a self-portrait, a poem about myself. Laughing at others is funny, but it leaves me with a bad aftertaste. If that's the case, the basic idea of modern senryu is to laugh at yourself.

my wife is coming, and I thought I called an ally

　What? She was probably trying to be clever, but my wife didn't like it. Isn't it such a petty predicament?　

　If you write about anger and sorrow among human emotions, it becomes more interesting. The trick is to be "doe-eyed.

　The material that is you is with you 24 hours a day. There is a saying, "Experience is an equal gift," but each of us has our own unique interests in life, right? The first step is to think about what kind of ingredients you are and what kind of food you can become. It's good to start by thinking about that.

　Originally, senryu poems are written according to a theme, but you don't need to think about anything difficult at first.

What are the three main elements of senryu?

　First of all, you have to decide what you are going to write about. What are your recent feelings of anger and sorrow? Then, once you have decided on the material, you can write your poem according to the three main elements of senryu: "Ugachi, Karumi, Warai".

Ugachi: to get to the heart of things or people 　All yurei (ghosts) appear with a common name.

"You wouldn't say, "Yesterday, the ghost of a certain Buddhist priest appeared to me. So, is a commandment name for a funeral? That's what I mean. It's a good angle.

Karumi-Lightness: light and witty. 　Refill your tears with beer.

I can't believe she refilled her tears with beer. This kind of light footwork is good!

Warai-Laughter: Happiness, silliness, embarrassment, laughing at yourself. 　I'm glad God is toying with me.　

It would be clean if the discoloration came to this point.

　With these elements, it is possible to compose senryu that is both plain and deep. If you want to write about emotions, you can't just shout, "I'm so sad! It's not enough to just shout, "I'm so sad! It's like writing a script for a drama where you are the main character.

　"The biggest mystery is my current face. The author lives inside the poem. The key is whether or not a third party can read it and find it interesting.

　First of all, I would like you to try to write your own senryu using your own eyes, ears, mind and words, no matter how bad you are. This is a lesson from my teacher, Ms. Shinko Tokizane.

　Let's become a poet rather than a reader! In the next article, we'll learn the rules and tricks of the trade while doing some actual work.

Senryu Variety - Which Type Are You? Masayoshi Sugiyama

　Hello, everyone. My name is Masayoshi Sugiyama, and I'm a willow writer.　

　I'm Masayoshi Sugiyama, and I'd like to share with you some of the things that make me smile and laugh. The 5, 7, 5 senryu is perfect for capturing such scenes.

　When you look around your daily life, you will find many sprouts of such senryu. But it is important to be able to find them. Cultivating those eyes is the first step.

　Today, let's think about the "point of view" that is necessary for composing senryu.

First of all, just try to compose!

　Let's start by learning what senryu is through actual writing.　Let's learn what senryu is. Let's start a senryu class. Our student is Nozomi Oigawa, an office worker in Kanda, Japan, and an aspiring willow poet.

Nozomi, nice to meet you. I'm Nozomi Oigawa, the eternal 29-year-old who never gets over it (laughs). (laughs) I'm still new to the senryu world, but I look forward to working with you!

Today, I'd like to start off by writing some miscellaneous poems about everyday life. 'Zatsuei' means to compose freely without being bound by a theme. There are also titled poems that have a specific theme to be composed, but I'll get to that next time.

　First of all, I would like to encourage readers to try composing poems, even if they are not good at it. As you compose and give form to your poems, you will gradually begin to see how you can improve your own poems. In this class, let's go up the stairs together.

Nozomi: Since I work in Kanda, one of Japan's leading businessmen's districts, how about a Kanda point view? I wrote a poem about a salaryman I saw at a coffee shop during lunch.

　More relaxed than at home, Renoir, peeps

Renoir with a more relaxed face than at home

This is a poem about a businessman I saw at a coffee shop. An oasis for businessmen who are tired of working. I know what you mean. It's also a technique to invite readers' "Yes! It's also a technique to invite the reader's "Yes!

　But, you know, this phrase is an "uncle's picture book. In other words, it's a poem about other people you've observed. As I told you last time, modern senryu is a self-portrait, so I hope you can see the mind of the poet.

Nozomi: What? Isn't it enough to write funny poems about other people or society?　"I googled "senryu" and found that it's "intended to be humorous or satirical.

It is true that many people generally think that way, but actually there is more to it than that. It's much deeper than that.

　There are many types of senryu, so let's start with the different types.

Various types of senryu -- Which type are you?　

Shosen: Many people think of senryu as satirizing other people and society, like Nozomi's poem, right? But there are three main types of senryu.

(1) Traditional Senryu: Composing about the subtleties of human feelings

This is an objective view of daily life and customs. This is also called "general senryu" and depicts the subtleties of human feelings as seen by the author. The poem that Nozomi wrote falls into this category.

(2) Current Affairs Senryu: A sharp look at the times

This is the type of senryu that criticizes society and politics. Many of the willow poems published in newspapers are current affairs senryu, which are considered good because of their satirical spirit. It is a competition to see how sharply you can capture the times. The "Salaryman Senryu", "IT Senryu", and "Nursing Care Senryu" that companies are looking for are also in this category.

　Borders come and go, on the sea　　

Masazen

(3) Contemporary Senryu: A poem about the author's joy, anger, sorrow and pleasure

The question is whether the material for the willow should be about others or about oneself. In modern willow, which is called "self-initiated willow," the author's own emotions are captured. "The real appeal of modern willow is the "human close-up.

　The night I laughed so hard I went to bed alone　　

Monta Sugimoto

　Sugimoto is one of the six willow artists born in the Meiji era (1868-1912) known as the "six great willow artists" who created the foundation of modern willow. This is a sincere and sad feeling.

Nozomi: Wow, the impression of a haiku can change a lot depending on your point of view.

Shozen: Yes. In this class, we focus on modern willow, which is a form of willow that addresses the voice of the heart. There are three types of willow, and they are very rich.

　There is no one type that is the best, so I think you should choose the type that makes you feel comfortable in writing 5, 7, 5.

Nozomi: I just wrote a traditional senryu poem, but now I'm going to try to recite my own feelings in the Shosen style of modern senryu.

　I can't talk about my feelings in a sour, I need a sip.

Shozen Suddenly, after five... But this is a fine modern willow because it has your feelings in it. It has a bit of lightness and laughter. It's good.

　It's a close-up of a human being, with the author's joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure in the poem. I would like to compose a poem about the heart, not just a 5-7-5 or a play on words.

　The next step is to learn how to compose your own feelings into a haiku. The key to composing modern willow is to look at yourself from a bad guy's perspective. We'll talk about that in the next class.

Nozomi, I'm looking forward to it!　Thank you very much.

#me #senryu #history #modern senryu #poetry

3 notes · View notes

mychemicalroadworkahead · 24 days

Text

Alright I’ve decided to just say fuck it so here’s a series of 4 poems I wrote in the summer of 2022. Enjoy, or don’t, I don’t give a single fuck anymore

Trigger warnings for drugs alcohol self harm and suicide

Letter to a Lost Love 1 - July 13, 2022

I’m high and a song you don’t know is playing

Some of our shared favourite characters are in the background slaying

I wish you were here but I never want you to see this part of me

This is the part of me that is alcoholism to Benji Campbell

The part of me that is the north stairway to Mr. Sweeny

I hope you never see this part of me

But if you catch a glimpse promise you’ll still love me

That is if you ever did

I’ll never be fully convinced you meant what you did

On the night of my first kiss

If you didn’t please tell me

If you did don’t say a word

Just play my favourite song

Even if it’s one you’ve never heard

I need you to be okay but don’t lie when I ask

I want to help if you need it

I love you but I wish I knew you better

You’re my favourite person

The Jeremy to my Michael

You’ll always be my player one

I am nothing without you

Without you I’m not myself

The comfort you give me just by being close

Matches that of the rain that pounds on the roof

You’re just like rain

Too much and I’ll be swept off my feet

Around you enough and I’m a whole new person

Just from being caught in your beautiful storm

You provide shelter from the things that are slowly killing me

But we’ll eventually die too

Whether apart or together I hope you go peacefully

You deserve the peace you bring me

I am so lucky to have you

Yet still I am stupid enough to question why you’re here

Why you stay

What do you see that makes you think you shouldn’t just play with my heart

I’d like if you could point it out

Maybe it would be the only reason why I stay

Letter to a Lost Love 2 - July 14, 2022

I’m not high tonight

But I'm still up writing poetry for you

My heart, my mind, all of me yearns to be with you

You bring a sense of comfort to me when you’re close

The chaos you bring to my life is hectically manageable

It’s calming to know you’re usually not far

Just a few cities away

The distance from me to you isn’t safe to walk

But I’d run through a tornado for you if you wanted

I can’t imagine a future without you where I’m happy

Often times you are my medicine

You’re like the light at the end of the tunnel of despair

You’ve said you hate poetry

That you find it annoying and stupid

But my love, I’ve composed song after song for you

And all came up short in so many ways

You’re to beautiful, funny, smart, and strong to be restricted by a melody

I’ve tried expressing my love for you

In ways I’m sure you’d prefer

But none compare to the meaning held in a poem

Which can tell of things never seen

My admiration for you is like Kenny’s deaths

Unseen, unheard, and unfelt by all but you, me, and one other

It’s still odd to think a year ago I didn’t even know you

Even odder still is what led our romance to be

Just a short conversation that changed my life

Only for the better

And if depression is the price I pay for loving you, fine

I can handle the breakdowns and the cuts and the attempts

It’s all worth it to be your friend, let alone boyfriend

The privilege of knowing you compares to that of seeing

The most amazing tree in a forest

My love you are beauty

You are grace

And if I fuck up I hope you’ll punch me in the face

Take care, and rest well my love

Letter to a Lost Love 3 - August 3, 2022

I’m not sure what to call you in my poems now

Being as I’ve ended things between us

But this is different than the other times

This time i didn’t do it for you

I did it for me

I loved you for months

Craved your voice

Your skin and your beautiful eyes

You kissed me once

Just a small bump of your lips to mine

Your’s were perfect but mine were characteristically dry

You saw my scars

The cuts I was ashamed of

And still you stayed

You still cared

Or if you didn’t you’re quite good at acting

For a moment I let myself believe you really loved me

I allowed myself that luxury for too long I suppose

I really hate myself

I reached out to you twice

But that was twice to much

You didn’t deserve my problems

I hate that I don’t have a dick

I hate how I look

I’m beyond unhappy with my weight

I wish I were older

I wish I could reach my goals

And I wish someone could reach me before I fall

Letter to a Lost Love 4 - August 10, 2022

I despise you

In fact I detest your very existence

You never loved me

You never even cared

Never once did you even ask if I was okay when I was going through hell

My dog cared more about me than you

If you really cared you would’ve made efforts

Efforts to keep our relationship alive

To keep our friendship alive

For hell’s sake, to keep me alive

And I know it wasn’t your responsibility

But dammit I actually cared about you

All those times you didn’t respond for days

I spent worried I’d go back and hear you were dead

Well now that’s the reality you get

Your friends ruined my life

You ruined my life

Riley ruined my life

My family ruined my life

The only people that gave me hope were Betty and Haylee

And that’s gone now

I hate you

I hope you never have to feel what this is like

But don’t be relieved

I still wish the worst upon you

You didn’t have to take one for the team every time you came out

Your cousins shared that responsibility

I had to risk my life over and over for my sister

And I never got so much as a thank you

But whatever

It doesn’t matter

All you need to know is that it’s not

I’m not okay

It’s I wasn’t okay

#frank does art #poe et tree #frank writes words #poetry #mentally fucked

0 notes

pompompurin1028 · 7 months

Note

i think this question has been asked before and a veryy basic one lol but as a literature major you are, what are your favorite books? i am curious to know

This is a hard question because firstly, I hadn’t really read for pleasure in quite a bit so orz (I literally just didn't read except for my summer classes for the summer :')). So there are many books I want to read but hadn't read yet orz (there is also a reason why there is so little prose fiction🥲)

Also I have some books that I enjoy analyzing but like not reading as much or it's a mixture of both. I'll try to expand on them if I can, and split them into categories since some of the books I also really enjoy slip into philosophy/theory.

Here are works I enjoyed!

Works of Prose Fiction:

The Picture of Dorian Gray and "The Portrait of Mr W.H" by Oscar Wilde - I love Wilde, I've read him for both leisure and courses, he's great 10/10 would recommend

The Setting Sun, Otogizoshi, "Blue Bamboo" by Dazai Osamu

Frankenstein by Mary Shelly

"The Metamorphosis" by Franz Kafka

Poetry (this long list is actually kinda funny because I enjoy poetry more when I am lectured on it than reading on my own):

"The Rape of the Lock" by Alexander Pope - there isn't actually rape in it I want to preface that😭 honestly I didn't expect myself to like it as much as I did when I had to read it for class but I did. Despite the title, it's funny and it's satire. It's a long poem that takes conventions from the epic poem like Paradise Lost. It can also be read critically if you analyze it more from a feminist reading. Written in heroic couplets to be exact, flows great on the tongue, I recommend an audiobook

"Paradise Lost" by John Milton - I think it's a fascinating work to analyze, I didn't enjoy reading it as much when I did do it, I felt like an audio book would have helped but it is the first English epic poem, deals with ideas of the philosophical problem of evil and I think the most interesting part is that there are camps of different readings to Paradise Lost namely: Satanist and anti-satanist lol. I feel like Milton is more anti-santanist imo and reading but it's just fun XD. Also I really liked this paper on Eve and it shaped my reading of the work too: https://www.jstor.org/stable/26303763?typeAccessWorkflow=login

"A Valediction: Forbidden Mourning" by John Donne - one of my favourite love poems orz. John Donne is difficult to read, he wants to show his intelligence through his works and is part of the metaphysical poets but this poem struck to me and I'm just mmm. I also want to read more Donne but I hadn’t yet.

"Two Loves" by Lord Alfred Douglas - if you're a fan of Wilde you need to know Lord Alfred Douglas, another poem that really stuck with me

Sonnets 15, 130 by William Shakespeare

"Sir Gawain and the Green Knight" - when doing Medieval Romances, this poem really stuck to me, it has so many interesting elements and it felt different in comparison to the other ones I have read, and was fun to analyze! Apparently they released a movie on it 2 years ago called The Green Knight, I can't tell if it is good or not because I hadn’t watched it

"Sonnets from the Portuguese" by Elizabeth Browning - love poems she wrote to her husband :(

"Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey", "Resolution and Independence" by William Wordsworth

"The Prelude" also by William Wordsworth - I found it a difficult read, it took me a few reads to understand what's going on and I was reading excerpts but I find it fascinating to analyze, especially in terms of the problem of identity and how he tries to reconcile with the events of the French Revolution through nature (honestly I feel like Tintwrn Abbey does it too but this is more interesting to analyze for me)

"Elegy written in a country churchyard" by Thomas Gray - interesting to analyze in that it's in a transitional period between the Romantic and the Neoclassical (Enlightenment period) and it combines elements typically associated with both

"Poppies in July" by Sylvia Plath - a depressing poem but... I liked it a lot, it is very interesting to analyze

Plays (Plays are actually my least favorite genre I'm sorry, I don't know why I can't get into plays as much as other genres even if it involves analysis but there were ones I did enjoy):

Medea by Euripides

The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde

Doctor Faustus by Christopher Marlowe

Non-fiction/ Theory/ Philosophy:

"You'll never believe what happened" by Thomas king - this really struck me when I first read it but I can't recall why and at one point I wanted to find more of his works

"Truth and Lying in the Non-moral sense" by Nietzsche - I do quite enjoy Nietzsche ngl, I especially am interested in his ideas on aesthetics, I really really want to read more of him in my free time. I also was really fascinated by the parts of his The Birth of Tragedy that I did read

"The Decay of Lying" by Oscar Wilde - speaking of Nietzsche I have to mention Wilde because this essay actually reminded me the Nietzsche essay I wrote above

Frames of War: When is Life Grievable, The Force of Nonviolence: An Ethico-Political Bind, "Giving an Account on Oneself" by Judith Butler - I think Butler has fascinating ideas on nonviolence, grievability and identity, whether one agrees with it or not is another thing, I personally enjoy Butler though, I'm hoping to read Gender Trouble when I can (I hadn’t finished the first two books either but I have read parts of them and discussed them in class orz)

Utopia by Thomas Moore - makes you question whether the Utopia described is actually a Utopia or not, and ofc the origin of the genre

The Wretched of the Earth by Franz Fanon (also hadn't finished but I want to read more orz)

De Profundis by Oscar Wilde

I also am quite interested in the idea of the sublime by Edmund Burke but I hadn’t been able to dive deep into it yet :(

Also I like reading Dazai-sensei's personal essays I don't have a term for it in English :(, I don't see them in English translations though which is actually really sad

#this was a longer list than I expected orz #but yeah a lot of these are actually stuff I enjoyed / kinda enjoyed from classes mostly I want to read more on my own time but yeah...#it's hard #asks 💌#Lovely Anon❤️

1 note · View note

the4sylum · 1 year

Text

EA's story - Battered Rose 2012

Courtney Love’s “anarchy violinist” returns to the stage and is keeping the spotlight all to herself. With appearances on Leno and Letterman, glossy magazine covers, and guest spots on the albums of such artists as Love, Otep, Billy Corgan, and TV’s “Metalocalypse,” under her corset strings, Emilie Autumn’s devilishly dark lyrics, metal-shredding violin solos, and industrial-strength voice reinvent “gothic” for the masses, and goths have never had so much fun.

Chosen by Interview Magazine as one of their “14 Artists to Watch,” the Los Angeles-born starlet’s theatrical stage show is a sexy circus of glam-rock burlesque, backed by a scantily-clad girl band known to EA’s devoted fans as the Bloody Crumpets. But as the sole composer, performer, and producer of her latest full-length album, the double disc “Opheliac,” EA gets personal. Written in the style she calls “Victoriandustrial,” this magnificent musical adventure draws upon EA’s background as a child-prodigy classical violinist growing up on the stages of concert halls around the world, and combines it with her passion for harsh industrialism, aggressive metal, and all things Vaudeville. The subject matter of this elaborate concept album is much darker however, bravely and often humorously addressing highly controversial issues ranging from manic depression (the harpsichord-driven title track as well as the contagiously danceable “Swallow” and the epic “Misery Loves Company“), self-mutilation (“Liar,” a terrifying decent into hell), and sexual abuse (“Gothic Lolita“) to suicide (the beautifully ironic “The Art of Suicide“), and touching on EA’s real-life experience as a psych ward inmate (the tragically funny “Thank God I’m Pretty,” from the “Opheliac — Deluxe Edition” Bonus Disc).

As EA herself explains:“I learnt to walk in the back stages of theatres and opera houses, amongst the beautiful chaos of costume changes, circus performers, sweaty ballerinas, dripping make-up, and far too much glitter. Then, I went mad and was locked up. This is simply what it sounds like inside my head. ‘Opheliac‘ is my ‘mad scene’.”

Accentuated by EA’s signature electric violin pyrotechnics, heartbreakingly lush orchestrations, hard-core beats, and menacing lyrics growled with enough intensity to make your hair stand on end, the resulting noise is a harpsichord-heavy romp through Victorian asylums where screaming is allowed and girls always get revenge.

2007 and 2008 were filled with nearly non-stop European touring for EA and her traveling circus, and the Asylum stage show has grown with each incarnation, quickly changing viewers’ expectations from rock show to Broadway musical, complete with singing, dancing, fire-eating, stilt-walking, aerial flying, stripping, burlesque feather fan dancing, highly inappropriate comedy bits, and much, much more. November 2008 marked the first Asylum performance in the USA, a sold-out New York extravaganza. In May, 2009, EA and her Crumpets (Aprella, Naughty Veronica, The Blessed Contessa, and Captain Maggot) completed their most recent European tour entitled “The Asylum Tour: The Gate Part II.”

Since her European breakthrough in late 2006, EA has recorded and released two album-length EPs (“Liar/Dead Is The New Alive” and “Four o’Clock“), a double disc all-violin album (“Laced/Unlaced,” which showcases both her classical and industrial-metal violin skills), a double feature single boasting a stunning rendition of Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody,” and a sexed-up version of Cyndi Lauper’s “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun,” as well as re-releasing an album of rarities and recordings from her teenage years, including a volume of poetry (“Enchant,” “A Bit o’This & That,” and “Your Sugar Sits Untouched“).

Despite this wealth of new material, Emilie Autumn’s focus remains firmly fixed on the “Opheliac” album, a work so unique and rich in both theatrical content and musical ability to reach a vast variety of listeners (the age of EA’s evenly split male/female fanbase ranges from six to sixty, and includes devotees of the industrial, metal, goth, classical, and mainstream pop/rock genres) that even her two-and-a-half hour long stage show has not yet been able to accommodate all of the album’s tracks.

Previously available only as an import outside of Europe, Emilie Autumn’s seminal album “Opheliac” is finally being launched in America and beyond. On October 27, 2009, The End Records is releasing the ultimate American version of EA’s entirely self-written/performed/produced double-disc masterpiece as “Opheliac — The Deluxe Edition,” featuring five new and exclusive tracks, live concert footage, video interviews, and hilarious album out-takes.

Emilie, who claims to live in an insane asylum for wayward girls, will support “Opheliac — The Deluxe Edition” on her very first North American tour in October, 2009. Entitled “The Asylum Tour: The Key,” this major-city tour promises to unlock the gate and bring the Asylum experience to those who have been waiting to see it for the very first time.

Of course, for those who can’t want to wait to get past the Asylum gates, EA’s debut autobiographical novel, “The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls,” is soon to be released in 2009. Written and lavishly illustrated by EA, “The Asylum…” book is more than a gorgeous volume that will take up most of the space on your coffee table — it is also one of the most complete accounts of bipolar disorder ever penned, and will take readers behind the doors of both modern day psych ward and Victorian insane asylum in this true life horror tale of madness, murder, and medical experimentation.

But beware: It is much easier to get into the Asylum than it is to get out…

#emilie autumn

1 note · View note

broomsick · 3 years

Note

The wisdom of odin has been one of the channels i go to most to learn! This sucks i wasnt aware of this.. So.. i already asked you a similar question about blogs on here, but do you know of any active youtube channels with informative and good content that are not out right nazis och suspicious?

I mean WoO isn't necessarily a bad source per say. I admit his stance on the AFA is pretty wobbly but i know a lot of newbies go to his channel for information and they aren't commiting a first-rate offense. Now there's no way to tell if he actually SUPPORTS the facists i talked about in my post, so for now i don't think anybody's going to mind if you watch his videos. Some of them do contain a lot of interesting info. What i'm advising is just to stay alert and always watch out for red flags ("odinists", "folkists", the "nine noble values", any display of hardcore conservatism, etc), and that goes for any norse pagan source.

As for the GOOD sources, i am very happy to provide.

- Ocean Keltoi on yt (X) is a reconstructionist heathen who makes loads of informative videos using facts and the history of norse paganism, which is pretty much the best source you can get.

- Wolf the Red (X)

- Arif Härger (X)

- Wind in the Worldtree (X)

- Sigurboði Grétarsson (X) doesn't run an informative channel but he composes original music based off the Völuspá and norse poetry. Let's encourage our independent musicians!

- Bjørn Ulfson (X) isn't suuuuper active but he's rlly funny and OPENLY calls out facist's dumbass concepts i mean look at him

#norse paganism #witchy asks #asks #norse gods #odin #pagan #paganism #spirituality #polytheism #norse polytheism #heathenry #deities #deity work #deity worship

290 notes · View notes

yuurivoiceincorporated · 2 years

Note

Oh oh request??? What about relationship hc's with Finn? (I'm super curious about how you'll portray him tbh)

I had to tap into my inner Finn for a moment.

To avoid confusion, these will be HCs for regular Finn (no Yandere/Storyteller)

-he makes special tea blends that remind him of you (he also names them after you in some way)

-slow dancing while it’s raining outside while a vintage record player is playing romantic songs <3 just to consider

-I feel like he plays an instrument. maybe piano or violin. or flute. maybe even all of them.

-he composes pieces for you and let’s you listen to him play

-if you play a musical instrument as well, you might be able to duet with him!

-pretty good painter. I think his favorite medium would be watercolor

-hella good at poetry

-likes to watch nature documentaries with you

-he knows how to sew a little

-tried sewing you a sweater but it ended up with three sleeves somehow

-don’t ask how

-picnic dates! He brings you to his garden and he has all these little crackers and tiny cakes with tea

-does that thing where he puts a flower behind your ear

-lets you play with his hair occasionally

-he rambled to you about plants and stuff, so if you want to ramble to him about anything, he’s completely willing to listen and is genuinely engaged

-likes to see you being passionate about something and supports your interests and hobbies

-you once took his glasses and wore them and asked him, “how do I look?” And he replied while squinting, “blurry.”

-he owns like 50 pairs of the same glasses

-how did he get so many??? You’ll never find out

-I think he would like to take care of a pet with you!

-maybe like a cat or something

-very strong shoulders

-I think he would love to learn a language with you or you could teach him a language you already know

-naps with him are exquisite

-he never holds on too tightly or loosely (?), it feels just right

-he has very soft pj’s

-and I mean very soft

-shit feels like a cloud

-he mumbles to himself every now and then, especially when he’s nervous or panicky

-sleeptalks but it’s not nearly as bad as Lucien

-takes some time for him to fall asleep

-a good tea and a forehead kiss should get him to sleep

-googles pickup lines to use on you

-they’re absolutely terrible I’m sorry

-“what are you doing, Finn?”, you asked. His best. He’s doing his best.

-you get a slight discount at his shop but you can’t tell anyone

-at first, he’s very awkward around kids but they all seem to like him

-the kiddos call him “the flower man”

-sometimes—but not often, he snort laughs at something really funny

-he doesn’t like it and thinks it’s embarrassing and ugly but it’s absolutely adorable

-sometimes he sends you random YouTube videos he likes

-it’s usually music and nature videos

@hawkshoney Just in case you couldn’t find it. Here’s some headcanons for Finn

#yuurivoice #yuurivoice finn #x reader #x listener

66 notes · View notes

just-otter-thoughts · 3 years

Text

Updated Updated About Me

Hi, my name is Mason. I’m trying out that new name because I like it better than my birth name. Portuguese speakers just call me by my birth name (Alexandre ) and Russian speakers, call me Александр (Alyeksandr).

I'm 16 years old and a high schooler. My pronouns are he/him, and I'm openly gay. I have no religious affiliations of beliefs, but feel free to share yours with me, if they exist! I'll be eager to know about them.

My biggest passions are music, videogames, writing and composing. My favorite genres of music are alternative, pop, metal, djent and pop punk. I write poetry, stories and even essays and songs sometimes, but this blog is comprised of mostly shitposts.

Bigots DNI. I'm a minor, so please don't be NSFW directly at me. If you need something trigger warned or content warned, just send me an IM or an ask (anon is enabled) and I'll be sure to try my best.

I speak portuguese (my mother tongue), english, and I took Duolingo for german for a while but switched to Russian. My russian journey is tagged as #mason learns russian.

I usually refrain from engaging in discourse (whatever it might be), but will occasionally reblog or speak out about something.

All in all, that's it. My goal is to be funny, share my creations with you all and mostly have this blog as a safe space for everyone. Don't be afraid to contact me for whatever reason.

(Note: Here's a comma for tags ‚ just copy paste it)

#important #important-writing #mason learns russian #mason takes meds #recipes #important-dashes #writing

18 notes · View notes

ibijau · 3 years

Text

Futures Past pt 11 / on AO3

Nie Huaisang and Jin Zixun chat while punished together, and discover they have more in common than they'd like.

warning for brief mentions of past physical and verbal violence against a child

Nie Huaisang had hoped that he would be allowed to wait until his nose had returned to its usual shape before his punishment. A hope quickly extinguished when Lan Qiren pointed out that he didn't need his nose to be kneeling and thinking about his behaviour. And so, one day after that fight, his face still swollen, Nie Huaisang found himself kneeling after class inside the discipline hall, next to Jin Zixun.

They’d been ordered to kneel inside the courtyard, with their backs to the gate. That way the gravel dug into their knees, and they were exposed to the view of anyone passing by, their shame on display for good, dutiful young people to behold.

Nie Huaisang didn’t much care about shame, but he certainly minded discomfort, and he was in plenty of it. Kneeling like this for so long, without any movement allowed, was the most cruel thing he’d ever been forced to endure in his entire life, he quickly decided. And he had to remain unmoving. Lan Wangji, who had been tasked with watching over them even though he was their junior, had announced that if one of them didn’t stay still, they would both be given lines to copy in punishment. He’d meant it, too, and already Nie Huaisang had gotten them two such sets of lines to do later.

“I’ll break your neck if you don’t stop fidgeting already,” Jin Zixun threatened in a whisper after the second time.

“I’m doing my best,” Nie Huaisang replied in the same tone.

“No talking,” Lan Wangji ordered.

He didn’t say they’d be punished if they chatted again, but of course he didn’t need to. This was the Cloud Recesses. Everything got you punished in this hellish place. Nie Huaisang missed home so badly, more than he’d ever thought possible. When he got home, he would be a good, dutiful, obedient brother, and he would never again complain about the way they did things in the Unclean Realm. Maybe that was the secret to Lan Qiren’s success in turning young men into perfect gentlemen. Everyone was so terrified of being forced to deal again with Gusu Lan’s rules and its awful food that they behaved just enough to never be sent back.

Bored to pieces, his knees hurt by gravel, and his legs cramping, Nie Huaisang tried to entertain himself by mentally reciting every bit of poetry he’d ever enjoyed. Then he tried to see if he could remember every rule of Gusu Lan. Then, in despair, he decided to compose some poetry of his own, all of it about the pains and horror of being far from home and among cruel strangers.

When he glanced at the sky, the sun’s position told him that only a quarter of a shichen had passed, if even that.

It was going to be a very long week.

After an eternity, Nie Huaisang heard something near the gate and spotted Su She lingering there. It made him smile. Probably it was coming close to dinner time, and Su She wanted to catch some time with him on the way to the dining halls. Su She didn’t dare come too close of course, not when Lan Wangji was there, so severe he might have been forty instead of fourteen. But Nie Huaisang was glad to have a friend nearby, and it made the whole thing feel a little less unpleasant.

A little after, Nie Huaisang noticed that Lan Wangji was looking at something. He threw another glance back, only to discover that Lan Xichen was there too, quietly talking with Su She. Neither looked very happy to be in such company, while also making great effort to pretend otherwise. It made Nie Huaisang snort, and that in turn made him wince because of his nose.

When he checked toward the door one last time, both Su She and Lan Xichen were gone. Soon after, the bell calling for dinner rang at last, and Lan Wangji announced that his two victims were free to go.

“Return after dinner,” he reminded them. “If you are late, there will be more punishment.”

After staying so long in the same position, Nie Huaisang found that he almost couldn’t stand at all. His only comfort was to see Jin Zixun didn’t appear in much better shape in spite of a higher cultivation. Together they hobbled toward the dining halls, both pretending not to see the other. By the time they arrived, everyone else had already started eating, but the Lans very generously didn’t remark on that. Nie Huaisang quickly found his place with the other Nie disciples, who served him food and slipped him some snacks they’d sneaked in. For once that their young master acted like a proper Nie, they were determined to encourage him, perhaps in hope that next time he would not just start a fight but also win it.

The second day of punishment was much like the first, except this time Su She didn’t come to visit. It was probably for the best if he didn’t come anywhere near Jin Zixun for a while, Nie Huaisang thought, and he was half sure Lan Xichen must have come to the same conclusion. Perhaps Lan Xichen had asked, or even ordered, that Su She stay away for the time being.

Nie Huaisang tried not to feel upset about that.

He also tried to count how many shades of grey he could differentiate in the gravel of the courtyard. At a little over two thousand, he stopped counting and decided that being bored was, in fact, less boring than that.

On the third day of punishment, a different disciple was overseeing them, one a little less vicious than Lan Wangji. That boy, older than them by a few years but not old enough to be called a man, looked as though he enjoyed being there as little as they did. While Lan Wangji usually either meditated or studied while watching over his victims, that Lan boy quickly grew restless and took to walking around. At some point he even went out the doors to check on something, leaving Nie Huaisang and Jin Zixun alone.

While Nie Huaisang didn’t dare to move, in case Lan Wangji popped by to check on them, Jin Zixun immediately started stretching his limbs, even sitting cross-legged for a little bit once he figured the Lan disciple went for a long walk.

“So, your merchant friend didn’t come around today either,” Jin Zixun said, apparently unable to not be an ass for even an incense stick’s time. “Guess you forgot to pay him his due for the week? You’d have to pay him. How else would anyone spend time with someone like you?”

“Unlike you, I don’t have to pay people to be my friends,” Nie Huaisang replied, still a little unhappy that Su She hadn’t tried to come again but refusing to let it show. “Or do you think those other Jin guys hang out with you because they like you?”

“Shut up!”

“Well, I guess it’s really your uncle paying them to stay around you,” Nie Huaisang mused, carefully stretching a little as well. “It must be costing him a fortune, too.”

“Maybe you’re not paying them, but you think your brother isn’t forcing his disciples to hang out with you too?” Jin Zixun scoffed. “You think your merchant friend would have bothered with you if you weren’t so high up in Qinghe Nie’s hierarchy? Someone like you, aside from your connexions, what’s your appeal?”

“Shut up, it’s not like that. Su-xiong doesn’t care about these things,” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, allowing his voice to rise higher than was prudent.

The Lan disciple in charge of them, alerted by the sudden noise, returned and mildly scolded them for not being quiet, though he said nothing about both of them having obviously changed position while he was gone. He didn’t leave again for the rest of their time in the disciple halls, for which Nie Huaisang was secretly a little glad. He hadn’t liked at all where that conversation was going.

Su She wasn’t the sort to use others for their connexions. He was too proud for that, too determined to succeed by the strength of his own hard work. He was Nie Huaisang’s friend, sincerely so. And just because Su She had not tried again to see Nie Huaisang since the beginning of his punishment, since Lan Xichen had been manipulated into taking his side at last, offering him the support within his sect he'd always wanted…

Nie Huaisang was angry at himself for having that sort of doubts, and angry at Su She for acting in a manner that allowed doubts to be formed.

But Su She had to have an excellent reason for keeping his distance, and Jin Zixun was just jealous because nobody would ever take a hit to protect him.

Besides, even if they both only had an entourage because people were forced to hang out with them due to their rank, at least Nie Huaisang had a better one. His brother’s disciples, even after three days, were still sneaking him sweets and medicine at dinner, to help him deal with his punishment, still whispering that the whole thing was unfair, that Jin Zixun had been asking for trouble and everyone knew the gossip about him was true. Meanwhile, the Jin disciples were mostly avoiding conversation with Jin Zixun unless he talked first, and didn’t appear to particularly worry for his well-being. Every time Nie Huaisang glanced that way during meals, Jin Zixun was looking sullen and quite lonely.

It made sense because Jin Zixun was the worst person in the world, while Nie Huaisang knew himself to be lovely and delightful.

Well.

He knew himself to be kind of funny and generous with sharing the perks that came with his position, anyway, and that was almost the same.

On the fourth day of punishment, Nie Huaisang ended up doing some comparison of his and Jin Zixun’s situation. He hadn’t meant to. But Lan Wangji was the one watching them again, Nie Huaisang was so bored, and he just didn’t have anything to occupy himself except introspection.

Jin Zixun, he promptly decided, was an awful prick and people were right to dislike him. But at the same time, there was a good chance that some people had disliked him from the start, just because of who he was and how he was born, which might have turned him into a prick as a reaction. Nie Huaisang knew he’d been close to doing the same when he was younger, except he was too lazy for that, and also he’d always had his brother who both sincerely supported him and didn’t let him get away with hurting others on those occasions Nie Huaisang had tried abusing his position.

There would have been nobody to be there for Jin Zixun like that, he figured. Maybe his mother, but everyone knew she kept away from the world these days. His uncle could, and certainly should have been a model and a guide, but since the uncle in question was Jin Guangshan, and with the whole scandal around Jin Zixun’s birth… At that point Madam Jin should have stepped up when her husband failed to take care of the nephew they were half raising, but that wasn’t going to happen, not when she was well known to despise all of Jin Guangshan’s bastards. And aside from these two, who could have dared to stand up to that young master, second in line to inherit their sect and with a personality so awful that he was sure to develop a personal grudge against anyone who opposed him?

Maybe in another sect, someone would still have had that courage. But Lanling Jin was a sect of ambitious cowards, or so Nie Huaisang thought after listening to his brother rant against them.

So the only difference between Nie Huaisang and Jin Zixun was that one had been raised right, while the other had barely been raised at all. It made for an unpleasant conclusion: they weren't so different.

And then, there was the matter of gossip. Both of their births had been tainted by scandals caused by adults who really ought to have behaved better. Nie Huaisang had suffered a little from it, mostly when he was very young, but it had been years since anyone but his father had thrown that to his face. But Jin Zixun… everyone knew about Jin Zixun, and everyone brought it up every time he was annoying, which of course happened a lot.

It had to be awful, Nie Huaisang thought as he knelt over gravel, stealing a glance at his companion of misfortune. And so, having reached that realisation, Nie Huaisang felt some guilt over the way he’d acted that day. Sure he had just been trying to protect Su She but maybe, just maybe, he’d taken that a little too far when he’d started insulting Jin Zixun’s birth instead of just his sect and atrocious personality.

Then, to make everything worse, Nie Huaisang realised that just like in his own case, everything about Jin Zixun might have just been baseless gossip, a complete invention.

That ruined his mood for the rest of the day. When he saw Jin Zixun being ignored by the other Jins at dinner, Nie Huaisang almost sprung from his sitting place to publicly apologise to him.

He might have, if he hadn’t disliked Jin Zixun too much to be nice to him in front of an audience.

When day five arrived, and it was again that rather less serious Lan disciple watching them rather than Lan Wangji, Nie Huaisang realised he really was guilty for what he’d said to Jin Zixun, guilty enough to consider making an apology. A real one, too, not just the tearful thing he’d already planned on reciting in front of Lan Qiren.

Because while Jin Zixun was, in fact, the most disagreeable person in the world, a bully, an asshole, self important, and just generally unpleasant… throwing it in his face that he might be an unwanted bastard was a low blow, and had nothing to do with the things that were so detestable about him.

Nie Huaisang waited until, once again, the Lan disciple grew bored of watching them kneel silently and went for a walk. He then waited a moment more to make sure they were alone, before finally daring to speak.

“So, I think I should apologise.”

“Keep that for later,” Jin Zixun snapped at him. “It’s Lan Qiren you’ll need to impress, not me.”

“Old man Lan is a different problem, I’ll convince him,” Nie Huaisang boasted. “But you… This is a real apology. I shouldn't have said that. About your father. I shouldn't have."

Jin Zixun glared at him, looking furious enough that Nie Huaisang feared he was going to be punched again. In the end though, Jin Zixun wasn’t stupid enough to do that again when it had gotten him in such trouble the first time, so he just shrugged.

"Everyone says it anyway. Why should I expect any better, especially from an idiot like you?"

"Because I should know better. I'm… at home, they say the same about me."

Jin Zixun threw him a suspicious look. Probably he'd heard that Nie Huaisang's mother had a bad reputation or he wouldn’t have mentioned her that time, but he'd likely never heard the actual story, though their parents' generation were usually aware of the scandal. Nie Huaisang himself avoided talking about it. It was something of a sore point to this day. He wouldn’t have mentioned it to anyone normally, happy to let the matter be forgotten, but then again he hadn’t really ever met anyone else whose situation was quite so close to his own.

And what was the worst that Jin Zixun could do anyway, when every grown up already knew the story? When they'd just fought so publicly, and sharing gossip would just be seen by other kids their age as a petty and pointless attempt at revenge?

"My mom was married to another man when she started seeing my dad," Nie Huaisang whispered, glancing around to make sure there were no Lans around waiting to punish them for chatting. "A magistrate, I've heard. A bad man, for sure. My father always said he was a very corrupt man, very cruel to the people depending on him."

Nie Huaisang paused for a moment. It was never easy to think about his father, even worse to think about his mother. He missed them both, even if he didn’t remember either too well, and what he could recall was unpleasant in both cases. His mother had died so young, and his father...

"I think my father killed that man, but I'm not sure,” Nie Huaisang continued. “Everyone says if he did, it was a good deed. But anyway, my mother was with child already when she came to the Unclean Realm, so of course people said…"

"With the way your cultivation sucks, they might be right," Jin Zixun said in a flat voice. Nie Huaisang looked around, and punched him in the shoulder. Jin Zixun didn't even wince. "What? It's true, you're terrible at this! What sort of cultivator faints just from being punched? But if neither of your parents are cultivators, I’m surprised someone like you made it this far."

"Shut up! My dad is my dad," Nie Huaisang insisted. "He always said he was sure of it, no matter how many others doubted it. He'd say my mother also was sure, and he never let anyone say otherwise. I was his second wife's son, so I was his son, and anyone who had a problem with it could fight him. And he never changed his mind about that!"

Not until his sabre broke and his mind with it, anyway. Then he'd taken to calling Nie Huaisang a bastard when they were alone, a conniving schemer trying to steal his true son's inheritance, the son of a corrupt man, no better than a cuckoo taking space in a nest that wasn’t his.

Nie Huaisang’s father had had many things to say, by the end, and Nie Huaisang, who’d been ten at the time, hadn’t been so sure anymore who his father was. Not until Nie Mingjue had started pointing out how much he looked like this or that cousin, how the two of them had their father’s eyes.

Nie Mingjue had protected his brother before and after their father died. If he hadn’t been there...

But those last few months didn't matter. That wasn't who Nie Huaisang’s father had really been. Just an empty shell with his face.

"Lucky," Jin Zixun grumbled.

Nie Huaisang thought of his father threatening to strangle him, a few days before finally dying, and nodded anyway. He was lucky, compared to some others.

He was lucky compared to Jin Zixun.

"My dad never defended me," Jin Zixun said after a moment of silence. "The idiot died too soon."

A little surprised that Jin Zixun would make such a confidence, Nie Huaisang still nodded.

It was a well known story, and the Jin hadn't managed to smother as efficiently as the Nie had done with their own scandal. Mostly, they hadn't really tried.

Jin Zixun's father had been Jin Guangshan's younger brother, and he had married a famed beauty who many men of their generation had set their eyes on. Jin Guangshan himself had tried his chance, only to be forced instead into a political engagement with a woman he didn't like while his brother got the true prize. Of course, being Jin Guangshan, neither his own engagement nor the lady's wedding to his brother had changed his interest in her. He had pursued her with ruthless persistence, while she had avoided him with growing desperation.

Only a few weeks after the marriage, the unfortunate lady became a widow when her husband died during a Night Hunt, and it said something about Jin Guangshan that whenever Nie Huaisang had heard that story recounted, everyone always felt the need to point out it really had been an accident. As for his sister-in-law, she immediately announced she would enter permanent seclusion, out of respect for her husband she'd said.

To put herself out of reach of her lecherous brother-in-law, everyone believed.

That seclusion hadn't lasted a month when it was announced that the lady was pregnant. She gave birth shortly after Jin Guangshan's wedding to the fearsome Madam Jin, only for Jin Guangshan to promptly announce that his sister-in-law's son would be his heir if he didn't have sons from his own wife.

With all this happening in less than a year, of course people gossiped. The true parentage of Jin Zixun, then and now, was a matter of much debate.

It didn't help that he looked so much like his uncle.

"I've heard that your mother has always denied all the rumours," Nie Huaisang said, more out of pity than conviction. "And, I mean, she'd know, right ? And if you were your uncle's son you'd have a real claim to Lanling Jin, so she could have tried to scheme and..."

"My mother is an honourable woman!” Jin Zixun barked. “She'd never have borne it!"

"And your uncle is a prick."

Jin Zixun grabbed Nie Huaisang by the collar, and dragged him closer.

"Take that back, or I'll find another part of your face to break!"

Nie Huaisang looked around, in case that outburst had been heard, then shrugged.

"Your uncle is a prick, or else he'd have done more to defend your mom's reputation. I bet he likes that people think he seduced her."

"I'll break your teeth!” Jin Zixun threatened, but he released Nie Huaisang's collar. “Uncle said nothing because gossip aren't worth his time. Only the weak and powerless care about rumours, so he refused to give them any consideration."

"And he likes to have people think he can seduce any woman,” Nie Huaisang pointed out, straightening his clothes. “You know, I've heard that he even went after Qin Furen, from Laoling. You know, that beautiful lady? And…"

"Shouldn't you know better than to spread gossip?" Jin Zixun snapped.

That was the whole problem of course. Nie Huaisang should have known better. It annoyed him to no end when people talked about his parents, because he knew the truth, and they’d told the truth to everyone, so it was ridiculous of people to still debate that.

But other people’s gossip was fun to collect, and sometimes fun to spread as well. Especially when it had a chance of being the actual truth...

"Shouldn't you know better than to bully people for their origins like you do for Su-xiong?" Nie Huaisang grumbled. "Anyway, it's not real gossip, it's real truth. My da-ge saw your uncle try to kiss Qin Furen once some years back, only he interrupted, and later she thanked him for it."

Jin Zixun gritted his teeth. He fell silent a moment, considering the information.

"She's very beautiful," Jin Zixun said with some reluctance. "And just his type. It could be true."

"Da-ge says you can usually trust the women when they speak about these things. He says my mom never showed any doubt at all, no matter how many people pestered her. And I guess your mom's the same. So don't worry, I think we're both our fathers' sons."

"Of course I am," Jin Zixun grumbled. "I didn't need some second rate cultivator like you to tell me that." He paused a moment, and sighed. "I guess I should say thanks anyway. Most people just say my mom wouldn't say it even if the gossip were true. And that's not fair. She's a good person, she wouldn't lie!"

Nie Huaisang looked away to hide a grin. Jin Zixun was a prick and a bully, but he might also be a bit of a mama's boy.

It was kind of cute.

"What's she like, your mom?" he asked.

"Why should you care?"

Nie Huaisang shrugged. He glanced back toward the gate, just to make sure the Lan disciple in charge of them wasn't returning. But they'd truly been abandoned.

"We can have a nice chat,” Nie Huaisang offered, “or we can continue reflecting on what awful people we are for having a personality, which is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses. C'mon, tell me something fun instead. Like how your parents met? And I can tell you about mine? Anything as long as I can forget how bad my knees hurt."

Jin Zixun huffed and puffed, but he started telling the story of his parents' meeting. He was a horrible storyteller, but Nie Huaisang balanced it out by being a great audience.

When the end of the week arrived, and they had to make formal apologies to each other, Nie Huaisang's was more earnest that he'd ever planned it to be. He thought, also, that Jin Zixun seemed a little sorry as well, but that might have only been wishful thinking.

#xisang #nie huaisang #jin zixun #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #double time travel

37 notes · View notes