#yeah. bye

[l4ndowdc]

[lmaowh-at]

hey guys :3 remember when I made the post calling you to join a watchalong of figaro. yeah i have more art and the subs for anyone's interested

slap em on the video with substital and you're done :~)

[t4terzo]

38, Su She x anyone you choose

[38: Did you expect this to turn out better?] Su She - Gen

i rly couldn’t pick who to ship him with so i decided to keep it from a fantasizing standpoint! its definitely hinting at his future relationship with jin guangyao, though.. because... well....

AO3 LINK - buy me a hot chocolate maybe 

Su She sat on the floor, contemplating. The newly built instruction hall was silent in a way that echoed and roared in his ears. No students to teach, not yet--nothing like Gusu, not in any of the good ways. 

For all that Gusu was strict, it was populated. Silent, but students from all the greatest sects sat packed together, cramped, just to learn from the Lan's greatest teachers.

Gusu Lan was disciplined. Sect members were courteous, otherworldly. 

But in his mind's eye, they were cruel. Cruel for putting themselves on a pedestal above the rest of the world. Learning should never be a privilege, it should be mandatory. So why was it such an honor? What was so special about Gusu's pristine halls, white in a clean way that only served to flaunt wealth?

Why did the cultivation world's greatest sects flock to fill their lecture halls and not his own? Su She's utter lack of a reputation, let alone a good one, seemed to precede him.

He breathed, in and out, slowly, splaying his hands across his guqin. Bracing himself, he thought: Even without students, the class must go on.

He'd instruct and yell into the air until his lungs deflated. He'd pluck at the strings and copy music sheets until his fingers were sore. He'd run lumber up to the sect for a fire every day as if there were plenty of students to feed. 

He wouldn't stop. Not until someone--anyone--noticed his hard work. Not until he had enough disciples to listen to his words, to play along, to memorize the sheets he wrote, to eat the food he cooked, he wouldn't stop. To be given a chance, a chance not injected with the poisons and pleasantries of the cultivation world's prejudice was exactly what the youths deserved. He'd be that chance, even if no one knew to search for it.

Even as his hands grew slack at the weight of playing for so long, he was determined to continue. Eventually, someday, someone would hear him playing. 

He imagined it as he strummed. The way they'd cup his hands, numb from hard work, and hold them. Caress and massage his palms until the feeling worked its way back. He'd feel the warmth of their touch, and he'd hold it dear.

They'd spread his fingers apart. As if his fingers were delicate--worthy of a music instructor--and they'd examine the calluses, one by one, not just in worry but in appreciation. An acknowledgment for all his hard work, as fruitless as it seemed.

Maybe they'd offer to help teach his classroom of shadows. Maybe they'd offer to help him find disciples--more people to listen to him, to hear him, in any way possible. 

He hoped for it. He yearned for it. A world in which his plans, his sect, his honest attempt at teaching yielded results.

A world in which things were better.

[triskele-y]

Lol is it my fault that these kanjis are so small i cant read them? No. But do i wanna punch myself in the face anyway? Yes.

[maphash-blog]

yeah im in no mood to be on these shitty blogs today so,

ill be on my main ---> @daveysona

[gxldenlord]

I’m going to get off the internet for a bit before I start screaming. Be back later maybe

[divinepersona-blog]

Apparently someone appreciated my amazing sleepwalking skills but I'm literally being kicked off by a mad nanny-man, so gotta skeedaddle. You will get your lame greeting from mua when I wake up. Toodles!

[lillymsmith]