#short form poetry I GUESS | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thepersonperson · 3 months ago

Note

How old do you think lived to be in the Heian era?

Also do you think the marks on his body are like birthmarks or tattoos to mark criminals?

Not a clue about Sukuna’s death age. The Buddha reached enlightenment at age 29. Sukuna is “enlightened” so I’m going to put him at 29+ years old at death.

I’ve been meaning to do a Sukuna Tattoo post so I guess I’ll use this as an excuse. They aren’t birthmarks that’s for sure.

Sukuna's Tattoos

Notes before we start.

1) I will be mainly using the TCB scans for the manga because of their accessibility.

2) Written as of JJK 267.

(Click images for captions/citations.)

Preface

I'm drawing from a lot of sources here because documentation of Heian Era specific tattooing customs is not something I could find. The reason I’m comfortable using non-Heian sources as a reference is due to Sukuna borrowing both language and arts from other periods.

For example, Sukuna scolds Yorozu for not using a Haiku properly. The form of Haiku that Yorozu uses did not exist until the late 17th century. A good 500+ years after the end of the Heian Era (794 to 1185). The Haiku is actually derived from Waka poetry that became popular during the Heian Era. (Very short summary: Waka (Sedoka specifically) -> Renga -> Haiku)

It should also be noted that Chinese influences greatly shaped the development of arts and social attitudes in early Heian Era Japan. These influences declined over the this era as Japan looked towards itself for cultural development. Since the Heian Era was from 794 to 1185, most of the Chinese influences came from the Tang Dynasty (618 to 907).

For all these reasons, most of this tattoo analysis draws from the Tang Dynasty in China and the Edo Period in Japan. However historical Chinese tattooing in general is referenced more due to its availability.

Anyone with more historical Japanese or Chinese knowledge are free to correct me if I get something wrong.

Facial Tattoos

Let's first compare the facial tattoos on Yujikuna Megkuna and OG Sukuna.

Yujikuna and Megkuna have identical facial tattoos, but OG Sukuna lacks the markings over his nose and forehead. I think this is because those markings have something to do with Kenjaku's vessel creation. When Kenjaku casts Idle Transfiguration to wake up the Incarnated sorcerers for the culling games, they also have markings on their foreheads.

Sukuna's vessel markings might be different because his incarnation occured outside of the culling games. It could also be from his cursed object’s division into multiple pieces instead of just one. Whatever the reason, these forehead and nose tattoos prpbably hold more information about Sukuna’s relationship with Kenjaku than his past in general. All 3 versions of Sukuna share the chinstrap markings, so those tattoos likely have significance outside of Kenjaku.

Now onto what they could mean…

Sukuna has already demonstrated that he knows his Chinese literature and wordplay via Enchain/契闊 (Keikatsu). (The person who brought this to my attention may or may not have their account nuked. A doctored version of the Tweets is screenshottes here). What's important for this analysis is knowing that Keikatsu comes from a Chinese Poem.

The poem referenced belongs to the Shijing or The Book of Odes. This book is a part of the Wujing or Five Classics, a series of documents believed to be compiled by Confucius that has greatly influenced both China and Japan. Amongst the Five Classics is the Shangshu or Book of Documents that cites the use of punitive tattooing. Quoted directly from Wikipedia:

"It lists the "Five Punishments": the five primary penalties employed by ancient Chinese officials on criminals. The first (and least severe) of these punishments was the tattooing of the criminal's face with indelible ink."

In the Edo Period of Japan, the criminal markings on the face seem to only appear on the forehead. These were given to any lawbreaker as a punishment and a warning because they didn't have prisons. (Source)

These sources both suggest the facial markings are for criminals. However, there are alternative meanings that should be considered.

Kenjaku’s vessel markings are on the forehead and many of the culling game players consider themselves to be manipulated by the promises of incarnation. It’s also odd that the strongest sorcerer is unable to incarnate properly due to Yuji acting as a cage. Kenjaku is all but outright confirmed to have done that on purpose.

For these reasons, I think the following historical tattoo practice from the Chinese Song Dynasty (960 to 1279) should be considered. Quoting directly from the source:

“Tattoos for slaves were things like a label of ownership, or a brand on the forehead. There are some examples of slaves, and concubines, receiving tattoos as punishment for things like trying to escape…”

Uro is a former slave, a military slave to be exact. I go more into detail about this in my Initial Sukuna Backstory Theory. There is also the fact that Kenjaku sees the incarnated and has access to their lives/bodies like this...

They're essentially toys with built-in tracking devices for Kenjaku to monitor and tinker with as needed. The forehead and nose tattoos on Yuji/Megkuna can therefore be seen as a mark of ownership by Kenjaku. And maybe this is why Choso has one across his nose too.

There is one more meaning I can propose for the facial tattoos, though it mostly applies to the chinstrap.

Within China there are tribes that used facial tattoos for other purposes. The Dulong women had their faces tattooed to make themselves look undesirable to invaders that would abduct them for slavery and rape. (If you've read that one revised Sukuna backstory of mine, this is significant.) But more commonly, these markings became a tradition for girls coming of age.

The Ainu women in Japan also used facial tattoos for coming of age, beauty, and preparing for death. I bring up the Ainu because they’re mentioned as a non-Japanese group of sorcerers. There's also this Yuji is of Ainu heritage theory to consider. (This could link Sukuna to the Ainu by blood.)

The tribal uses are discussed here because Sukuna’s tattoos are vaguely tribal in appearance. Though tribal tattoos tend to be more detailed, his feel like a simplified version of them. I think that works well with Sukuna being labeled an unwanted child at birth. Japan has wiped out a lot of its indigenous populations and customs (see the Emishi). After all, what minority group practices haven’t been demonized and associated with criminal activity by the majority?

So the facial tattoos for Sukuna may be a marker for his vessel status, a claim of ownership, a punishment for being a criminal, a deterrent for sexual assault, or a signifier of belonging to a tribe. You can come to your own conclusions about this, after all none of this is confirmed.

Chest and Belly Tattoos

Comparing the versions of Sukuna again. (All these sections are going to start like this.)

Yujikuna and Megkuna once again have the same tatts. OG Sukuna has “C” hooked markings over his pecs instead of the “S” hooks of the other two. He also lacks the belly markings entirely. Since his belly mouth seems to be replacing the belly tattos, I think those markings on Yuji/Megkuna are a stand in for that extra mouth. The pec style differences I have no explanation for.

Due to the chest tattoos extending over Sukuna’s shoulders and onto his back, I won’t looking for possible meanings until the back tatts are addressed.

Back Tattoos

The tattoos running down Sukuna’s back appear to be the same for all 3 versions. Differences are slight enough to be considered inconsistency in the art and not deliberate.

The neck tattoos between Yuji/Megkuna and OG Sukuna differ slightly however. The bands of Yuji/Megukuna remain separate while OG Sukuna’s fuse together and extend further down his back. I don’t really have an explanation for this difference, much like the hooks differing on his pecs.

Back and chest tattoos are associated with criminal activities in Japan rather than criminal punishments because they are hidden under clothing. (Well not in Sukuna’s case, but you know…) Most notably the Yakuza have very intricate chest and back tattoos.

But going back to China, tattoos were also used as dog tags for military members and could signify loyalty, mainly during the Song Dynasty (960 to 1279, which is still within the Heian Era). Despite this, cultural opinions at the time seemed to be conflicted due to tattoos sharing an association with criminals. Quoted directly from the source:

“According to Yue Fei’s biography, when the legendary general was slandered and interrogated for treason, he tore the shirt off his body, exposing four characters tattooed on his back: “Exhaust one’s loyalty in service of the state.” This study looks at two components of the Yue Fei story—patriotic tattoos, and tattooed generals—and examines their meaning in the broader stretch of Song dynasty history. Yue Fei was not the Song dynasty’s only tattooed general who came to a tragic end.”

“This study shows that underneath the nationalist historical narrative of the Song dynasty, of which Yue Fei is a famous example, there lies a different story of social conflict within the Song state. Rather than a story of Chinese fighting non-Chinese and of traitorous and cowardly officials struggling with loyal patriots, this study offers a narrative of a social conflict between high-born clear-skinned officials and low-born tattooed military men.”

Now that sounds a lot like how the higher ups clash with the Jujutsu Sorcerers who do all the actual work. This mentality existed even in the Heian Era, where Uro was exploited as a military slave by the Fujiwaras. And since Uro is a Sukuna parallel, these tattoos could also indicate a similar type of exploitation.

There are still tribal purposes to consider. Drawing more from Chinese sources, the Dai men had body tattoos as a symbol of strength that would accentuate their muscles. Sukuna’s chest and back tatts really draw attention his brawn. The Li women had body tattoos as a right of passage and as identifiers. Sukuna’s neck tattoos in particular are similar to these ones.

So my spattering of explanations this time around for the chest and back tattoos are criminal organization affiliation, military “loyalty” claims (this is a form a slavery), decorative pieces to accentuate the muscles, a right of passage, and an identifier.

Arm Tattoos

Remember how I theorized that the belly markings on Yuji/Megkuna were a stand in for OG Sukuna’s extra mouth? That’s what I think is going on with the arm tattoos as well. The double bands and circles on Yuji/Megukuna represent the extra limbs on OG Sukuna. When this fusion is pulled apart, you get the single bands and dots on the 4 limbs.

As for their meanings? There’s the criminal markings of the Edo Period that indicate where the particular criminal is from. (Courtesy of this Reddit post.)

Since Yuji/Megkuna tattoos are more related to Kenjaku’s vessel creations, this could hint that their deal took place in Nara, Oosaka, Koufu, or Edo. (Nara is most likely because of its significance in the Heian Era.) For OG Sukuna, this is more indicative of where he first got them.

However, the single band is not for a location but rather a status—Hinin. These are the undesirables and social outcasts that were marked for their uncleanness. Sukuna was born a conjoined twin and unwanted. It’s likely these markings directly correspond to that fact.

…

(An unserious suggestion. On queer men in the US, double rings on the arm can represent how far they can fist someone.

I don’t think Gege is referencing this at all. This is just an example of why cultural context is very important to consider.)

...

There are some other meanings to be drawn from armbands specifically, but those are easier to group with legs.

Leg Tattoos

Differing from the other sections, the leg tattoos have only been seen on Megkuna and OG Sukuna. As referenced in the image below, we have the ankle of Megkuna (top left), the upper thigh of Megkuna (right), and ankles of OG Sukuna (bottom left).

Instead of having the double rings, like on his arms, Megkuna only has a single band, which matches OG Sukuna. (It’s reasonable to assume Yujikuna is the same and that OG Sukuna has the upper thigh bands too.) This further supports the idea that the double bands and shoulder rings represent the fusion of the extra limbs. Sukuna never had extra legs so there’s no need represent missing limbs.

For what they mean? I have only the non-Japanese/Chinese sources to go by. Gege may be a fan of non-Japanese cultures, but I'm not sure if that means Sukuna's design elements would borrow from them.

In other cultures, armband tattoos can represent mourning. Which ones exactly I have no idea because all the sites making this claim don’t specify them in detail. (Source 1, Source 2, Source 3) It’s honestly pretty infuriating. If you’re going to “borrow” designs from “cultures” to sell, at least cite your got danged sources.

But if we are to read these as indications of mourning, I don’t believe they’re for a person. Throughout this analysis, tattoos recurrently are associated with some form of oppression—slavery, uncleanliness, social damnation. If Sukuna’s bands are to be read as mourning, I think it’s for the loss of his autonomy and personhood.

What does it all mean?

Sukuna's tattoos are permanent marks that appear to be directly linked to his soul. How he acquired them is currently unknown. Traditional means of application can be quite painful, using metal or bamboo rods to carve skin and fill the abrasions with ink. (Here's a video if you want to watch it be applied.)

If we consider Kenjaku’s use of brands to mark and control vessels, it could be assumed that Sukuna’s tattoos are ones others put on him through binding vows for his control. They could also be symbolic in nature, hinting at his heritage and origins, indicating that he was branded an outcast at birth or even blessed by deities for protection. Perhaps Sukuna wanted the tattoos himself as an act of rebellion against the changing social norms. Whatever the reason, one thing is clear, these tattoos separate him from other humans.

Existing on the Border

I think the ambiguity behind the purpose of these tattoos this fits nicely with Sukuna and other people not knowing how to categorize his personhood. He's so strong and different that he might as well be something other than human. But he's not a curse, he wouldn't be able to used Reversed Curse Technique if that were the case. Is he a monster? A natural disaster? A god? He's kind of all these things at once by way of projection. Other people assign these labels to him and Sukuna doesn't correct them. There's something profoundly gender about it all.

And if you noticed, tattoos in ancient China and Japan have purposes that differ by gender. For women they were used for beauty and protection, while with men they were used to mark ownership and criminality. Sukuna has a melding masculine and feminine elements which is why I consider the tattoo meanings for both with him.

That sounds kind of crazy given that Sukuna very much embodies strength born of toxic masculinity. However, he actively wears women’s clothing and seems to have no qualms with being associated with feminine things. (Godbless marketing team for leaning into that.) He may have a rough and masculine speaking style, but he loves poetry and flowers.

(Sukuna is lying when he tries to deny it. Megumi's hobbies have everything to do with animals, not flowers.)

The earrings he wears, though a direct reference to the Buddha (basically it’s shorthand for how Sukuna isn’t truly enlightened yet), are another symbol of Sukuna's non-conformity. Earrings are something the Japanese government went out of its way to ban for Ainu men during the Meji Restoration after it decided they were only for women.

Even the short hair both he and Uraume wear are quite rebellious for those times, if not an indication of their lower standing. Regardless of gender, long hair was seen as desirable, high-class, and attractive during the Heian Era. (Source for men and source for women.) Most of the Heian characters wear it that way.

Notice how the servant has her hair cut shorter. Sukuna and Uraume's is shorter than that. It would be considered ugly and possibly dehumanizing. And yet when Kashimo sees Sukuna's true form, he calls him beautiful. He uses 美しい (Utsukushii) to do that.

That kind of beauty is a bit deeper than the English language can get across. From the words of someone else, "...utsukushi can express the beauty of something that catches your heart."

Kashimo isn't really wrong, but he's also not entirely right. For every panel of Sukuna looking like an ethereal god, there's another of him being an amorphous creature or a rabid goblin. All of these types of faces for Sukuna occur within JJK 253 alone.

These contradicting elements that somehow fit together are what make Sukuna, Ryomen Sukuna. He both participates in and rejects beauty. He’s crude and classy, violent and merciful, masculine and feminine. That duality, that two-faced nature is Sukuna.

I think his tattoos reflect this. Directly quoted from the source:

“Tattoos have many different symbolic meanings in Japanese culture and can denote where an individual ranked in society or serve as a permanent means of defense against evil forces or perhaps members of the animal kingdom. With the arrival of the seventh-century, the idea of tattooing one’s body in order to make it more beautiful began to lose its appeal due to the strong influence of Chinese customs in Japan—specifically when it came to identifying and tracking criminal activity. Around 720AD during the Nara Period, it appears that tattooing as a form of punishment began to infiltrate Japanese culture. Once the dawn of the Edo Period began the art form was more widely used as a punishment for criminals as at the time there was really no such thing as a prison to send lawbreakers off to.”

The purposes and attitudes towards tattoos in the Heian Era morph in the way Sukuna morphs both physically and in perception. Since Sukuna is the Fallen One, that means he must have been Honored One first. What caused him to fall remains a mystery, much like the meanings behind his tattoos.

One last thing...

A small caveat in relation to everything else, Sukuna referring to himself as The Fallen is the only time he has introduced himself.

He’s not given someone his name nor identified himself as anything other than a former human (which was internal). Combined with the ambiguous nature of his form, tattoos, and origins, I don't think it would be wrong to read him as someone who has transcended gender.

#cactus yaps #Wow I went down a research rabbithole for this.#I don't think this counts as weeb posting. This is more in line with Erika Furudo. Yeah I'm Erikaposting now.#Beatoposting is when I suggest Sukuna lacks a gender.#Where's that one meme that's the enby flag but with a hyper masculine bearded dude in front of it going “Any Pronouns Lmao.” That's Sukuna.#I am once again asking what the hell happened to Sukuna and how much of it is Kenjaku responsible for.#Read Umineko btw.#ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jjk asks #asks #jjk spoilers

42 notes · View notes

daydreaming-jessi · 9 months ago

Text

“There’ve been many souls that have come and gone from the flock, some are just more memorable than others.”

Decided to doodle some cultists I’ve come up for in fics, had in my actual game, or a cool idea i came up with on the spot. Oh and Sozo and Webber are here too :D This is by no means the entirety of the cult, and there may be future followers that stand out too, but for now enjoy these guys. Feel free to ask about them I guess lmao

I will be putting down my written notes under a cut since they’re so small and scribbly ^^;

Brother Tyr, head priest, he/him: The Lamb's 3rd closest. Very stressed despite doing his job for 200 years. Tries and fails to be a peacekeeper in the cult. Tyr and Nari argue a lot.

Brother Narinder, head mortician, he/him: Don't piss him off. The Lamb's spouse. Best source of info on the crowns and outside world. Can do any job around the temple and will. When the Lamb isn't around.

Sister Merbre, temple organizer, she/her: Helob loves her. The main reason the temple runs when Lamb is gone. Has a surprising realist view. Everyone loves her. Romantic at heart.

Yeon, general worker, she/her: Has to let loose in demon form or else. Together with Julno. Friends with Narinder. Seeking absolution from her past crimes. 'Encouraged' Narinder to court Lamb.

Tyna, assistant mortician, they/them: Cult's head goth. Runs the slam poetry night. Also does piercings and tats.

Nanaon, retired missionary, she/her: One of the Lamb's most faithful. Insists she's not that old and can still work. One of the few mortals to earn the respect of both Deaths.

Firyn, farmer, he/him: A worker. Great with people and plants. Born after the fall of the Old Faith. Leshy's companion. Doesn't know the horrors yet. People tend to underestimate him.

Pura, general worker, she/they: Likes Firyn. Likes to manipulate things to her benefit. Doesn't like Leshy. Doesn't realize what being an ex-bishop means. Genuinely respects the Lamb.

Almer, refinery worker, he/him: Shamura's friend. Easy going. Wants a big family. A good confidant. Gives great hugs.

Grayden, silk sorter, they/them: Shamura's friend. Quiet but a beautiful singer. A shy pushover, but will snap.

Julno, farmer, he/him: Came with the 'coward' trait. Still scared of the Lamb, and Yeon's 'bestie' Narinder. Together with Yeon. Doesn't know her murderous urges.

Poppy, she/her: Best friends with Webber, youngest of the cult. Brave and tenacious Webber, he/them: Best friends with Poppy, youngest of the cult. Gentle and curious.

Dr. Sozonius, researcher, he/him: Amnesiac. Lamb is helping him find home. Extremely well educated about biology. Does not like the spider stalking him, or the mushroom.

Keeper, record keeper, she/him: Face is always obscured. Hates the Dark. Doesn't talk about his past. Has a strange locket that ticks. Always smells of salt.

Joobre, refinery worker/tailor, he/them: Loves working with silk. Has tea with Berith. Likes gold jewelry.

Thorty, bartender, he/him: Fights with Nari a lot. Short temper. Best with the drunks.

Bregrear, smith, he/him: Quiet. Knows his way around weapons. Old hat at this point. Hopes to retire in peace.

Harbre, smith apprentice/missionary, any pronouns: Hot tempered. Looks up to Bregrear. Married to Bathin, chases off suitors neither of them like. Longs to master their craft. Protective.

Anar, miner/lumberjack, he/him: Distrusting. Hard worker. Doesn't exactly trust the Lamb, but willing to give the cult a shot. Starts fights.

Fun-Gui, researcher assistant, they/them: Weirdly obsessed with Sozo. Self proclaims as his assistant. Other mushroomos don't like them. Always goopy and dripping.

Hajal, traitor, she/her: Left the cult. Status unknown.

#jessi doodles #cotl #cult of the lamb #cotl narinder #narilamb #the one who waits #cotl follower #cotl sozo #dr sozonius #cotl webber #ds webber #gotta say my personal fav is fun-gui i just love their design so much #this new love has really helped me figure out drawing animals thank god

72 notes · View notes

tsukimefuku · 8 months ago

Text

It takes one to know one

You and Higuruma decided to make a promise to each other.

Tags: Jujutsu Kaisen, Higuruma x f!reader, this is extreme fluff with the tiniest hint of angst, just for sauce.

Song: Head over feet - Alanis Morissette

WC: 800

This is part of my "Jujutsu Partners Canon Divergence AU", a sequence of short stories and random drabbles for a Nanami x f!reader x Higuruma fanfic I'll eventually write (eventually). To see the ever-growing list of one-shots, please visit my masterlist :)

Disclaimer: these stories are NOT written and posted in chronological order of events. To see where this story fits in the timeline, please check the masterlist mentioned above.

You've already won me over in spite of me

And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet

And don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn't help it

It's all your fault

You are the bearer of unconditional things

You held your breath and the door for me

Thanks for your patience

— Head over feet, Alanis Morissette

"I have noticed something." You said, as you had your forearms over the balcony, watching the calm street. You were both outside, enjoying the last few hours of sunlight, as the sun set behind a wall of buildings.

"What?" Higuruma asked, as he sat on the only chair there was in the balcony of your apartment. He closed the book he was reading, and put it aside.

"You got me to confess I had feelings for you," as you looked at him, he was watching the sky, with a sly smirk on his face, "but you never actually told me how you felt."

His smirk was gone, and he stared at you, confused. "Huh?"

"All you said was that you were happy you weren't barking up the wrong tree. Aside from the 'poetry' of it," you huffed an almost chuckle, "that doesn't say much, Hiromi."

He slid his fingers over his hair for a moment, and seemed to be pondering on something, as he looked at you. You proceeded.

"You actually took very calculated steps just to get my 'confession', and you revealed absolutely nothing about yourself."

He sighed, and lifted his hands, in admission of his defeat. "You caught me."

You chuckled and leaned against the opposing wall, to look at him. "Why did you do that?"

He was silent for a few seconds. "I guess I was worried you'd push me away if I told you how I felt."

You sighed, and scratched your head. "I mean, your fears were warranted. But we've been dating for a while, and you still haven't said how you feel. It's odd, that's all."

"I guess... I might still me afraid you will flee at any given moment."

"Hey, I know I'm avoidant, but come on, give me some credit!" You complained, crossing your arms over your chest. "I'm in this with you."

"I know. But you still have feelings for him, don't you?" Higuruma inquired, leaned against the wall on his side of the balcony. It caught you by surprise.

"... I do." You admitted, starting to worry where this conversation was heading. Is he going to hold this over my head? You thought about him wanting to ask for some time, or breaking up, and oh come on not now, just when I began to feel happy aga-

"It's okay" he said, noticing your entire body had become stiff, and your brows knit together in a pained frown. "What I mean to say is that you still have feelings for someone that you actively decided not to pursue, and hasn't told me why. I'm not asking you to, but from that I can deduct that you had some kind of fallout, and are still feeling hurt, or vulnerable."

He read you like an open book. Your softening gaze confirmed his suspicion.

"About that, Hiromi, I..." The words began to tangle themselves in your throat, forming a ball, hard to spit out.

"I don't mean to pressure you about that in any way. Talk to me if and when you're ready. No one can promise to have feelings for one single person their entire lives, that's not how feelings work," Higuruma said, "but we can promise each other something else."

You stayed silent, and waited for him to speak.

"We can promise to always tell each other the truth, even if it hurts."

You sighed, gazing at him, and nodded. "I promise that I'll always tell you the truth, even if it hurts."

He smiled at you. "I promise you the same."

"Now, about your feelings...", you began, "why don't you tell me how you feel about me?"

"I believe you already have plenty on your plate. I don't want to..." He said, looking at his feet. He didn't mean to occupy you with his feelings, was what transpired.

"I want you to." You told him, as he looked up at you. "You just promised me. Always the truth."

He chuckled, caught on the web he had made himself. "Okay, then."

Higuruma got up and stepped towards you, pulling you by your waist to press against him. Your bodies, already familiar with one another, still quivered with the closeness and warmth. You put your hands behind his neck, feeling your face prickle red, as he gazed at you, eyes soft and loving.

"I am wholeheartedly in love with you." The sorcerer pressed his forehead against yours, and kept looking at you. Your heart throbbed and whirled content, and you could've wept of joy at this very moment. "And how are you currently feeling about me?"

You stuttered for a moment. "I am sincerely falling in love with you."

He chuckled, and nuzzled his beautiful hooked nose against yours. "Always a step back."

"What can I say?" You responded, while giggling. "You know me."

"I do. That's why we're here." He replied, kissing you. It felt like the sweetest golden honey had touched your tongue after you survived swallowing coals and bitterness for so long.

Please, don't ever leave.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #higuruma hiromi #hiromi x reader #higuruma angst #higuruma x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fluff

60 notes · View notes

jellybean181 · 1 year ago

Text

Meeting you / Vessel x Reader

Summary: Vessel notices you in the crowd at one of the bands concerts/worships.

Notes: This is my first time writing anything I apologize if it’s garbage lol. I hope to make this a multi-part story if it’s good.

Part 2

FLUFF

-————————————————————————-

“Oh my god, this concert is going to be so fun!”

Sophie and y/n crowded to the left side of the stage with the rest of anticipated fans.

You were nervous about public crowds, just finding out about Sleep Token a few months prior and falling in love with their music. Sophie wanted to attend there concert as soon as you felt comfortable enough.

Falling into the mystery of there identities and the poetry of there music set you into world wind of love and appreciation for the band.

“Sophie, do you think I really should of worn this white dress? I feel like I’m sticking out like a sore thumb.”

“Girl, you look beautiful! Don’t even fret.”

As the fans started cheering for Sleep Token as they came on stage to perform. You start to fiddle with the back of your dress to make sure your ass isn’t hanging out.

“Just relax, that dress is not super short it fits you perfectly.”

“Thank you, just nervous.” You smile shyly

You sway your hips with the music and start to enjoy the show.

Vessel start’s performing a few songs glancing your way a few times. What throws you off a bit is that you think he is staring at you a little longer then you think is normal but you brush it off.

Before he performs his next song he goes off stage a bit to one of the security guards to talk to them.

“What do you think is going on?” Sophie glanced at you with a confused look. “I’m not sure, but I hope everything is okay.” You respond concerned.

Vessel comes back on stage and starts performing your favourite song “Aqua Regia”. But then you notice a big security guy walking towards you and Sophie and you instantly start to get nervous.

You cross your arms around yourself to make yourself feel smaller as you make contact with the security guard.

“Vessel wants to see you backstage.”

“Me?!” Your eyes get bigger as you place your hand on your chest to indicate if you even heard him correctly and was in fact talking about you.

“Yes you, and your friend.” The security guard held his firm look while glancing at Sophie.

You look up to see Vessel performing, casually performing Aqua Regia and jumping around.

“Okay, I guess so” you say with a bit more shakiness in your voice then you would of liked.

As you and Sophie moved through the crowd with the security guard, you couldn’t help but look up to Vessel like you would be able to see the motive on his face through his mask. But all you could see is him staring back at you as he performed.

“You. Wait here.” The security guard stops and looks at Sophie.

“She can’t come with me?”

“I can’t go with her?”

“Vessel instructed me to only take you to meet him in his dressing room.”

Sophie and I glanced at each other like we could somehow telepathically have a conversation about this crazy and confusing experience.

“She will go.”

Your eyes bugged out again as your neck whipped back at your best friend in disbelief.

“Sophie! No! Are you freaking kidding me..!” You practically whisper yelled at her.

“Just go, it will be okay. I will be right here.” She said with a big shit eating grin.

“Miss, are you coming?”

You followed the security guard with the shuffling of your feet and the help of a little push from Sophie. Everything felt like you were living a dream, like this couldn’t possibly be happening.

As we reached the door, he opened it and ushered you inside to sit on the couch that was in the middle of the room with a coffee table.

“Make yourself comfortable, he will be in shortly”

He shut the door behind you and all you could hear was the rest of your favourite song finishing up as the band concluded the concert.

What felt like a lifetime and your heart beating a rapid pace, slight shiver to your form. You heard footsteps reach the door outside and the turn of the door handle. You thought you were holding your breath for a lifetime but was only a couple seconds of the door handle turning.

“Hello Sweetheart” Vessel smiles under his mask, showing off his pearly white teeth and hard muscle exterior.

“Hi.” You say shyly looking up at him like a deer in headlights.

#sleep token vessel #sleep token iv #no sleep #sleep token #vessel x reader #vessel x y/n #vessel #sleep token x reader

177 notes · View notes

astronicht · 8 months ago

Note

re: Mordor's location

I'm confused! I can understand being annoyed that Mordor is in the east (for me, it's because any new birth/new beginnings symbolism fails. BUT on the other hand, it works great with tolkien's biblical stuff - from study.com, "'East of Eden' is an allusion to the Biblical Book of Genesis. After Cain murders his brother Abel, he is exiled to the land of Nod, 'east of Eden' (Genesis 4:16)". I LOVE Tolkien's biblical symbolism, and smeagol murdering his brother is a direct cain/abel reference, so having the evil be to the east really works for me.

So I guess I'm just wondering if a) the symbolism thing is what irritates you about Mordor's location (or if there's something else I'm missing), and b) how does the evil being in the north resolve this?

Hey cool question!

Caveat that I’m literally just liveblogging my first ever read of LOTR, so while I read Hobbit as a kid and I know the movies and a good portion of the medieval prose and poetry Tolkien is drawing on very well, the only LOTR text I can reference is… from the Shire to Weathertop. Additionally, my perspective is as a medievalist, but I wasn't raised Christian and can’t speak to Tolkien’s personal faith, just to how he might use (and does use) historical Christianity (and a bunch of non-Christian narratives) in his work. At least like. Up to Weathertop.

Short answer a) not exactly! b) Because I expected evil to be in the north, and it checked that box. So-- your particular interest in Christian symbolism is immediately relevant here, because about 700 years before the King James Bible, in the medieval literature (and medieval Christianity) among which Tolkien has settled his own Middle-Earth, people had very very strong feelings about the cardinal directions, and North was heavily associated with Lucifer — this being stated explicitly in an Old English retelling of Genesis called The Old English Hexameron. Here, Lucifer's fall starts like this:

"with a presumptuous pride (moodiness) he said that he would make his throne above the stars of God, over the height of the clouds, in the north part, and be like unto God." (p. 17; not my translation but my guy Henry Wilkins Norman nailed it)

mid dyrstigre modignysse cwæð ðæt he wolde wyrcan his cynesetl bufan Godes tunglum ofer ðæra wolcna heannysse on ðam norð dæle and beon Gode gelic. (p. 16)

In non-Christian stories (though written down centuries later by Christians), the Gylfaginning in the Prose Edda describes Hel as “down and to the North” (sorry, just a link wiki here). So, same idea, and beyond these texts, North is generally associated with hell, death, or evil in early medieval literature, much more clearly than East usually is (even factoring in Old English and Old Norse stories about Cain, Attila the Hun, and the more exciting fauna of the Indian subcontinent, all of which formed the early medieval idea of East). Thus, finding out that an original Big Bad, of whom Sauron was “but a servant,” had once made his throne in the north made me go “OH! He didn’t forget after all!” in utter frustrated delight. My confusion wasn't exactly with evil in the east; it was the lack of evil in the north.

(this reply is really long, but my main point ends here, for anyone looking to bail out)

Actually, Genesis retellings in Old English are absolutely fascinating; I’m not wedded to Christian-only symbolism, but if it’s what you enjoy a lot, I very much suggest looking into the Hexameron and Genesis A, both great examples and very well known to Tolkien.

Personally I suspect I'll end up reading the symbolism of Mordor in the east as a more complex and varied thing than solely a reference to Cain's banishment. But to be really clear, in saying that I'm definitely not saying that Cain and Nod aren't valid interpretations (especially when they work for you so well!). Just my guess and my perspective. Old evil in the north and Mordor in the east is really interesting! So was the story of how Hobbits etc wandered out of the east to colonize the Shire, in another early medieval echo. And with Aragorn's throwaway "In those days the Great Enemy, of whom Sauron of Mordor was but a servant, dwelt in Angband in the North" I got an extra point on the map, from which the story immediately unspooled into an even wider and richer thing. Which is so neat, I love everyone in this bar, etc.

Just a quick further note on Smeagol, because I happen to have just gone past this bit and it's fresh! As far as I know at uhhh this very early point in LOTR (maybe it's changed later), Deagol was not his brother but simply his friend: “He had a friend called Deagol, of a similar sort, sharper-eyed but not so quick and strong” (though if you like the Cain and Abel imagery, this doesn't change that much tbh! I can see how it hits that note regardless). They are under the same matriarch (perhaps implying family ties) who eventually throws Smeagol out years after Deagol's murder; I liked that bit, bc I have no idea where Tolkien's pulling proto-hobbit matriarchs from yet, and Smeagol later lied and said the matriarch had given him the One Ring, implying that she was a ring-giver like an Old English/Norse thane or king. Smeagol and Deagol (and Frodo) are also wrapped up in lots of different tropes and symbols; Cain and Abel, yes, but also Beowulf and Grendel, and probably some other stuff I'll notice in like 10 years and yell at the ghost of Tolkien about. I think these stories work so well because they’re layers upon layers. It’s stories all the way down, you know!

Much like this reply, which is endless, so sorry about that.

#IMMENSELY LONG ASK REPLY IM SORRY IM SORRY #ask replies #astro lotr #with further apologies for being pedantic but also not doing my own translations

44 notes · View notes

illwynd · 6 months ago

Text

Utgard-Loki's Tale

I finally got to perform this thing tonight, so I guess it has reached its final form.

This poem is inspired by the traditional Icelandic rhyming poem Lokrur. My adaptation uses a bastard Kalevala metre (trochaic tetrameter), with various features of both Finnish poetry (repetition and alliteration) and Icelandic poetry (alliteration and abundant use of kennings and other wordplay), and I developed it specifically for spoken performance, in accordance with the way the story would originally have been passed along. There's some really geeky shit in here.

Also my thanks to @obligate-rebel who gave me a thumbs-up on an earlier iteration of it :D

...

By men I am called Utgard-Loki

Outlands’ trickster, apt in magecraft,

Skilled in spells and in shape-shifting

One who worked his tricks on wanderers

One who wickedly deceived them

When to his threshold gods came calling

You see, all Thor and Loki knew about me was that I throw all the best parties—what else is there to do when you live way out in the Outlands?—but everyone in attendance has to be the best there is at whatever it is they do, so these two gods... they thought they’d crash my party, cause some trouble, start some fights, show me who’s boss in my own house, and I had to figure out a way to get them to head on home without actually starting a war, because, y'know, that would tend to put a crimp on the party scene. So do you want to know how I managed that trick?

Surely you have heard them tell it?

Heard the tale as they recite it

Heard about Thjalfi, swiftest,

Tricked in foot-race versus Hugi

Passed by one who treads so lightly

Or the contest of the mighty

Rymr, he who calls the thunder,

Put his lips upon the vessel

‘Pon the cup all full and frothy

Froth as white as salty sea-foam

And the thirsty draughts he drew then

Drained the horn—of but a mouthful!

So it seemed by liquid’s level

Sore was he, Midgard’s protector

Falling short in simple trial

Surely you have heard them tell it

Heard the tale as they recite it

Heard how Loki, sly and clever

Set his hunger versus Logi

Chowing down along the trencher

Met the two with crumbs between them

Drawing even, feasts devoured

Loki patting bulging belly

Smirking with his smile ‘broidered

Met they then—but skinny Logi

Ravenous as wolf in winter

He had eaten all the meat…

And all the bones… and all the trencher!

Thus was Laufey’s heir defeated!

And you must have heard them tell it

Heard the tale as they recount it

How the grim one’s son continued

Put him forth another challenge

Boasting of his strength of body

Strength indeed of all his sinews

I set before him then the mouser

Tomcat’s father, hearth’s wee tiger

Purring on the floor before him

That he should test his might upon it

Asa-Thor bent low to grasp it

Bent to wrap his grip around it

Struggling with grunts of effort

Grunting as he tried to lift it

But one paw he barely shifted!

One paw raised above the tiles!

Purring still the feline bore it

As Baldr’s brother failed to heft it!

Fury gripped lord of Bilskirnir

And in his anger bade another

Challenger be brought before him

Said I then I thought my mother

In her youth a wrestler had been

But in her dotage still might suit him

Wroth was he with red beard bristling

Stomping on the mat before him

As Elli hobbled to her corner

But soon she did contrive to hold him

Hold him fast with arms around him

Arms like bands of stubborn iron

Till his knee did bend beneath him

Shamed was Grimnir’s lauded kinsman

Beaten so by woman wizened!

Tell me those are not the stories

More or less as you have heard them

But one voice has not been cited

One has not been heard to tell it

That is me. And if you’ll heed

I’ll tell the legend as I lived it

And each contest I’ve recounted

—true it is that I deceived them

Wanderers of Aesir kindred

But look at it from my perspective

Behold for but the briefest moment

Consider how I first had found them

Sheltering in fingers’ caverns

Cowering within the leather

Where the last night I had left it—

I swear I did not mean to wound them

Or to frighten with my snoring

I was merely heedless taken

Heedless of their headstrong journey

Thus I met them in the morning

Waking to their faces frowning

Trying to be most disarming

Not to give them cause for worry

Then they asked ME where the pathway

To the hall of Utgard-Loki!

I saw it full, the very future

Of which I’d had no foretelling

For they queried after speaking

‘Mongst themselves of doom impending

Doom that they would deal that monster

Dwelling in those halls unknowing

Well!

I endeavored to dissuade them

Placing in their path obstructions

Surely less than cruel misfortunes

Set before them my conditions

If they’d travel with my guidance

They would travel by my schedule

I would call the halts and respites

I would carry all provisions

Thus I handed them frustration

Goaded them to resignation

Alas the doggedness of gods

Was not within my calculations

So, if they’d not be dissuaded

Then ‘twas I must scheme before them

How to meet their whim for action

Without inviting my destruction

Thus I pointed them to pathway

To the door of Utgard-Loki

Once apart I shed illusion

Readied all in preparation

Waited till they came a-hailing

Thunder roaring at my doorway

And ‘twas I that granted entry

Though they did not recognize me

As they came to show their mettle

Prove their might in any challenge

Fain was I to meet their boasting

With my own skill in devising

Thus I placed the end of vessel

From which Odin’s son drank freely

Down upon the dolphin’s doorstep

Thirst could never be so mighty!

Not to drain the fishes’ highway

In this way I meant to thwart him

Meant to tactfully confound him

Meant to make him long for Asgard

Not to linger ‘neath these timbers

Then, said I to ember’s elder,

Let me place on you deception

Garb yourself in Aesir aspect

Shape the hungry tongue within you

Solid where your spark did flicker

That Laufey’s son so sly and able

Might not swiftly recognize you

As he sits down at the table

Thus I spake to Munin’s brother

Of the planned dissimilation:

Wrap yourself in men’s attire

From the ash-wood make your raiment

Lace your boots of supple leather

Then set foot upon the pavement

There to meet Toothgnasher’s wounder

There to race against him striving

Round the path of mead’s lacuna

Thus alike I worked enchantments

On the great snake Midgardsormr

On that serpent world-encircling

One that Thor once snared while sailing

Scales reshaped to furry shoulders

Still he hissed alike I tell you

That one trait you might have noted

Naught else of his essence showing

And then came the last contender

Gracious guest of all the prudent,

Spoils of the years’ survivor

By her leave I did conceal her

Veiled her hair in moonlight’s metal

Bent her back like twisted tree-limb

So Harbard’s son would be no wiser

When she set her hold upon him

In the aftermath of trials

Egos soothed with ale aplenty

I revealed to them my secret

That they would not feel too cheated

Nor would they feel too affronted

All I wished was their forbearance

Parting then as friendly rivals

So they would crave not for vengeance

For Jotuns have our share of talents

Our own place on World-Tree’s branches

Spells apart from gallows’ knowing

More are we than Aesir’s foemen

There my tale is near completed

But if my tongue’s allowed to waggle

Somewhat more of gods and giants

And the bitter blood between us

Just a few words I will venture

Fury, I have surely felt it

Anger aching for requital

For accounts all to be settled

Quenched with blood the battle’s metal

But I’ve seen no better ending

Not for bards and not for swordsmen

Than to sit by fire flaming

Telling tales with close companions

Ale in hand and sated, cravings

And all the stars above bright-blazing.

#norse mythology #poetry #my fic

39 notes · View notes

ad-ciu · 1 month ago

Note

Hello! I hope the following question makes sense and doesn't cause too much head-scratching:

Are the currently publicly-available translations of medieval Irish texts a decent enough approximation of the "cadence" and style of the originals? Such that if I were to write a story to the rhythm of those, it could reasonably be said to be "right"? Would I have written something "like" the TBC, or Tochmarc Emire or whatever--or would I just be writing in the cadence that a late 19th/early 20th century translator thought they ought to have?

(The context is that a friend of mine is writing essentially a mech anime in epic verse with heavy inspiration from middle English Arthurian literature, a project I enjoy hugely. I've occasionally harboured ambitions of doing something similar for the Ulster cycle but always get stuck on where on the scale of medieval to modern language-style to even begin)

& I guess the other part of that is, is it even possible to be "authentic" in English, when you're not writing in a version of the language of the Irish texts? (I'm aware of fun things like that "Tattooine Cycle" article, but that's presenting itself as a translated manuscript, so using the style of older translations makes sense there)

Oh, what a fascinating question!

It depends I suppose on what you take 'cadence' to mean. If you mean the actual rhythm of speaking these stories aloud, unfortunately all modern editions and translations of medieval Irish texts will broadly fail to capture this with any degree of accuracy due to a lack of punctuation in the original medieval texts. Punctuation is something we impose as editors to try to make the material clearer, but if our choices of where sentences start, stop, where commas go, what should and should not be a run on sentence, all of those are modern impositions on the texts.

However, this is also just sort of normal, because modern punctuation styles are commonly imposed on earlier texts in the editing / translating department. So, my gut instinct is that this isn't what you mean.

If, by cadence you mean something more like 'how these stories were read', not considering punctuation, unfortunately that's also entirely unknown. As it so happens, I was just yesterday considering how the character Cuscraid the Stammerer does not stammer in any of his dialogue in the texts, which makes me wonder if this was intended to be something someone reading these tales aloud would incorporate or not. Similarly, if certain lines are intended to be delivered or interpreted as sarcastic or not is not left to us.

However, this is also a problem with written English, where tone, inflection, other important elements of communication are not actually encoded in standard text which requires some slight innovations like emojis or the idea of '/s'.

So, I'm guessing you might mean something along the lines of the basic style of the text? Like, if you have over-extended descriptions, heavy use of epithets, long-sub tales, poetic interjections, and the basic vibes of the sentences? If that is the case, then the early translators were doing, broadly speaking, a rather reasonable job. There are some which are just absolute garbage (essentially any that are trying to translate poetry into poetry, something they lacked the knowledge of medieval Irish metrics to do properly, but those are -extremely rare-), but broadly speaking you'll be fine to draw inspiration from those.

The big warning I'll give you, however, is how stories are written is changing a lot in the medieval Irish period. For instance, if you read the 8th-10th century text Longes mac nUislenn and compare it to the 15th(?) century text Oidheadh Cloinne hUisneach, which is ultimately the same story but being told with different words, you'll see massive differences.

Broadly speaking, the earlier a text is the more clipped and short it will be. With the super-early material seeming almost more like a point-form summary of a tale. The later into the tradition a tale is, the longer, more exaggerated, and detailed tales become. Some of the late Early Modern Ulster Cycle tales for instance will have multiple pages discussing what clothes people are wearing. Similarly, the later a text becomes the more obsessed they seem to be with incorporating elements of earlier tales, but we should note that this may be an illusion. We do not know if our earliest texts are doing this because they could be borrowing heavily from lost materials.

So, what I would suggest is that you pick a specific time period you want to emulate, read a few texts from then to model your story off of (if you have issues, just drop me a message or whatever, let me know the period you want and I can give you texts, or you can give me a text you like and I can give you other contemporary ones).

The broader question of it you can be 'authentic' to these stories in English is... more complex. If I was being extremely academic and pedantic I would say 'absolutely not, every translation itself is a re-imagining of a text'. But, even if you were somehow able to write an entire story in Old Irish with perfect fluency, it still wouldn't be perfectly authentic because you aren't living in 8th century Ireland, so you'll be understanding things differently. And, that's fine. If I am not being extremely academic and pedantic, I'd say 'You can be as good as it matters, if you do a bit of legwork and consideration of things'.

EDIT: I should actually give examples of what I'm talking about. Here are three different versions of Tochmarc Emire, the Old Irish version (fragmentary), the Middle Irish version, and the Early Modern Irish version (called Foglaim Con Culainn, only interested in the later half of the tale).

If you read those, you'll see super clearly how storytelling is changing in these periods.

I hope that helps! And if you need any further assistance, please do not hesitate to toss a rock at me!

#irish mythology #celtic mythology #ireland #celtic #mythology #celtic myth

17 notes · View notes

daringdaisy · 4 months ago

Text

Rocky Rickaby? Nah more like Rocky Ricky

I had to make a short story for Spanish class near the end of the year. I decided to partner up with a friend, and she asked me about that cat I liked. I'm confused so I ask if she means Rocky. She says yes and that we should write a story based off him(I ended up writing most of it). Please enjoy this obnoxiously silly story that follows a bootleg Rocky

Once upon a time, there was a cat named Rocky, a violin playing traveler. Everywhere Rocky went, he tried to enlighten people with his beautiful melodies, but no one took him seriously. He was born to be a violinist, but was forced to be a cat.

One night, while he was sadly playing his violin on a bridge, he began to cry, and it fell into the river. Suddenly, a bubble formed and began to float towards Rocky. Surprised, he started to back away, but the bubble was coming straight towards him. Suddenly, the bubble burst into a thousand pieces and formed a beautiful queen (a female cat). However, this she wasn't just any queen, she had crystal-like fairy wings and a white ballgown that looked like it was made of silk daisy petals. She had divine golden fur covered in black and brown spots. She looked to Rocky and said,

"I will grant you three wishes."

Rocky was surprised that he had never heard such an offer. The fairy continued:

“But no wishing for more wishes, you cannot wish for more lives and you cannot change your physical form.”

Rocky nodded and contemplated for a few seconds. Finally, Rocky meowed and made his first wish. The fairy nodded and raised his wand.

"If you wish to speak, then speak you will."

A beam of flashes shot Rocky and he fell onto the cold, metal bridge.

"OW!"

Rocky's paw covered his mouth. He just said his first word. Before he could thank the fairy, she was nowhere to be seen. He runs to the bar and sneaks in through the open window. He walks up the stairs to the empty stage.

When he comes out on stage there is a mix of gasps and cheers. The sounds of glass bottles crashing against tables before an awkward silence fills the room. Rocky picked up his violin and began to play one of his original tunes. However, before he got very far, the bartender came up on stage and grabbed him by the back of his neck.

“How many times do I have to tell you that you can't play here?” the bartender questioned. What he didn't expect was to hear an enthusiastic, booming voice.

"Well, sir, if you would allow me to give you my rhythmic tunes for everyone’s entertainment tonight, I would change that feeble mind of yours," Rocky announced with a toothy grin.

The next thing he knows, he is thrown out the window and scurried under a cardboard box.

"Well, I'm not too surprised, but my heart is still full of disappointment," Rocky mutters, "I guess I'll have to try my luck again tomorrow." And with that, he slowly falls asleep.

A couple of nights later, Rocky returned to the bridge. He is enthusiastically reciting some poetry under the full moon with his new gift to a sweet melody from his violin.

“Old River! That seems far too austere a name for something made of mirth and rage. O-roiling red blood river vei…” "It's good to see you again, Rocky!" The fairy suddenly clapped her hands with joy.

“AH-” Rocky jumped, he was barely able to keep his balance on the railing. He takes a second to catch his breath before shakily responds, "Pleasure is all mi…"

The fairy interrupts abruptly and asks, "Have you thought about your second wish?"

Rocky announced confidently, "I wish I had some clothes."

“Can I do whatever I want?” The fairy questions

He shrugs, "I'm not particularly picky about this, but at least make it classy."

A glitter ball hit him and he was wearing a blue suit, an orange suit, a daisy in his breast pocket, and dress shoes. Before he could thank the fairy, she was gone.

Rocky runs to the bar once more and sneaks through the window again. He makes sure the waiter is out of sight and secretly goes on stage. The bar goes silent as they hear Rocky start playing. They don't laugh at him or wonder why he's there, they just listen. Rocky, pleasantly surprised, puts his heart and soul into his first real performance.

The final note is played and Rocky looks out at the crowd with a confident smile, despite his nervousness. The bar roars with cheers and applause, a first for Rocky. Rocky bows, soaking up the attention he's been craving for so long.

After that performance, he was allowed to live in the bar on the condition that he played his majestic music every night. Rocky enjoyed it at first, but quickly realized that he wouldn't be able to share his music with everyone if he just played at the bar only.

He decides to go to the old bridge to think about his next course of action. While he was deep in thought, the fairy sat next to him: "So, what is your last wish?" Rocky turns to her with a smile: “My last wish is to enlighten the whole world with my music!”

#lackadaisy #lackadaisy cats #short story #lmao #rocky rickaby #silly goofy mood

20 notes · View notes

areyougonnabe · 4 months ago

Note

could you explain marie nelson to me... i know that he's tragic and also a misogynist and that's kind of all

well you've got the basics but let's get into the details [cracks knuckles]

edward william nelson was the shore party's biologist, counterpart of lillie who stayed on the ship. like lillie he had been educated at cambridge, however unlike lillie who barely scraped a degree in the end, nelson dropped out lol. he went to work at the plymouth marine biological association, which is where he was when he was hired by wilson (presumably via cambridge connections) for the expedition.

he wasn't as rich as cherry or oates but he came from a landed gentry background, his maternal grandfather was a major landowner in the shetlands in scotland and was, if you believe this random page on the internet, descended directly from King James V of scotland... and his dad was a big deal microscope guy.

anyway by the time nelson was on the expedition his initial nickname was "The Immaculate One" because he was (at first) always wearing a clean collar, and then at some point he became almost universally known as "Marie," short for "Marie Ducas" or "du Car" which nobody ever bothers to explain.

sometimes he was also known as "Antonio" or "Brontë" (that last being a reference to Lord Nelson) and griff often called him "Marie du Car Bronte Antonio Nelson" or another combination of multiple names.

silas wrote in his diary that he "had a taste for gin and bridge" and lots of people remarked on how he wouldn't get out of bed in a timely fashion and was always late to breakfast.

he was kind of seen as dissolute in general or a bit of a slacker. kathleen scott remarked at one point that he "spends all his time on shore being a man about town, which makes him look exceedingly tired" but really i think that was just how his face naturally looked.....

his job at Cape Evans was overseeing his Biological Hole (that's what he's doing in the pic up top) and identifying new antarctic species, taking temperatures, and measuring currents. he had a telephone wire run out to the little igloo he built on the sea ice, and often had company in the form of griff or cherry or whoever wanted to help him keep the ice open and unfrozen at the hole.

he did plenty of science, but that kind of fades into the background in the diaries because most people if they're talking about him at all are mainly giving a running commentary on how much he liked to argue.

his main axe to grind was women's rights... griff seemed to take great joy in calling him a "miserable, cynical reactionary" and goading him into arguments which sometimes descended into pitched physical battle.

from griff's diary, may 30 1911:

Marie Deb & I had a frightful cag in our boudoir about Women’s Suffrage. He is engaged & declares if his wife wanted to exercise her vote (even if she gets one) he will lock her up!

november 3 1911:

We have great cags at meals now. Simpson Deb & I are progressives & Liberals. Nelson is a thorough Reactionary Conservative especially re women & vote & education. However as he said he wished he were a woman (with £500 a year income) we guessed he was abnormal!

nelson probably did the least sledging out of anyone during the first year, not going on a single long-haul trip (even simpson went out on a short spring journey). he mostly just hung out at his igloo i guess? and got really into calculating navigation for fun. also apparently he was the best at chess in the whole hut.

he stayed on for the second year, and did go out sledging on the Search Journey:

there is some great stuff about his midnight poetry and weird moon obsession during the second winter in @worstjourney's very good post here.

i'll also add that it was pretty harsh on everyone else to have Maximum Marie Exposure with no tempering force of griff to allay it.

nelson did contribute heavily to the much-reduced and mildly pathetic Volume IV of the South Polar Times, which featured griff's offcuts from the prior year, deb's illustrations, and poems from nelson including a parody of walt whitman about billiards:

This is the song of billiards:- The tight stretched cloth of green, the serried arches, The cue - faking the cue, the protests from the players, The pyramid, the British Pluck, the Chinese fluke, The click of striking balls, the rattle in the ditch, the grin of joy.

most of the expedition scientists went home on steamers from NZ, but both nelson and lillie stayed on the terra nova as she took the long way round cape horn, in order to do more trawls and marine science.

nelson also took a job as second mate—it was definitely unusual for a scientists with zero navy/sailing experience (except the voyage down) to suddenly become an officer of the watch, but pennell trusted him, and seemingly that trust was not misplaced, as pennell wrote in his diary about how well he took to the job, and to atkinson about how he was by "far & away the most brainy person in the ship."

he got married to the woman he had been engaged to, violet thomas, after returning from the expedition. their only child, a daughter, was born in 1915, but by then he was serving in the royal naval division at gallipoli and then france. his war story is straight up wild and i recommend reading from ice floes to battlefields by anne strathie if you want aaalll the deets. but basically he saw a lot of action, served alongside rupert brooke (among other notables) and came out the other side relatively unharmed... physically.........

after the war he went back to the plymouth marine lab, and was supposed to be working on expedition results, but didn't do much of that.

in 1921 he left his family in plymouth to take a job in scotland working in a lab for the fishing industry, and in 1923 his wife successfully sued for "restitution of conjugal rights" which basically means the court ordered him to return to her....

but that did not end the way she wanted 🙃

shit was sad... he was found with poison injected directly into his leg.

i think there must have been a specific legal reason why the death was declared an accident—maybe something to do with receipt of military pension for the widow? but it obviously was very much on purpose. for whatever reason the thought of having to live with his wife again was so intolerable to him that death was preferable.

so thus ends the Ballad Of Marie Nelson.... here is what deb had to say about him and lillie in 1927, writing to JJ Kinsey:

You heard of Marie Nelson's tragic end no doubt, but I'm inclined to think it was as well. Poor old Lillie is in less happy circumstances, the last I heard of him was that he was never likely to get out of Bedlam, a rather ghastly end up to poor old "Ooze's" brilliant promise.

but much like lillie, nelson's end can't be blamed on his experience in the antarctic as it seems he was relatively content there. occam's razor dictates that A) he clearly had Problems before and B) wartime trauma made those problems worse.

the tragic sequel to this tragic story is the fact that his daughter, barbara, was 93 when she went on a cruise to antarctica to visit Cape Evans and see her father's laboratory... but she died of a fall while on the ship during a storm before they had even gotten there :(

#tw suicide #polar exploration

19 notes · View notes

spade-riddles · 8 months ago

Text

Spade… I think something is afoot with this Amazon book, but not in the way everyone else thinks.

When you go to the Amazon page for the “Tortured Poets” - Willow Bowery book (published on Feb 22nd, or the 53rd day of the year — 🎁 anon), there is this description:

The 🎁 anon used the same language of what “this is” and what “this is not” in the clues. So we know what this book is NOT… it’s not the manuscript. It’s not an album or a department. It’s shared musings between an author and their audience. Got it.

Here’s where it gets interesting. While on the page for the “Tortured Poet” book, there was a sponsored ad for another poetry book: “This is a sign.” by Anon. This popped up right below the other book, as an ad, not in the “you might also like” section (so not based on search algorithm, but is a paid ad by the anon author).

Remember on February 20th (2 ✌🏼days before this Willow Bowery book was published to Amazon) when TaylorNation posted the pic of old Taylor from her Funeral in Anti-Hero with the caption “if we won the lotto, we wouldn’t tell anyone. But there would be signs.”

And everyone was all like… wtf? Seemed totally out of the blue.

(🎁 anon mentions PUBLISH and says something about looking above/for the ones the came before it)

Here is the description for This Is a Sign - Anon (published to Amazon on Dec. 20, 2023).

Book overview

“For those of us who are looking for a sign that everything will be okay, this is it.

This is a sign. is a stream of consciousness in the form of poetry and prose collected from journals and phone notes written by anon in “the pond” of her twenties, typed on a 1980s Smith Corona Typewriter, and arranged into this collection. It explores themes of home, heartache, heartbreak, and healing.”

At the Tribeca Film Festival Q&A, Taylor reveals that Typewriter in the All Too Well Short Film was an Easter Egg — it was the instrument by which the protagonist, Her, would go on to write her book.

The specific typewriter in the ATW short film was a Smith-Corona, sold under the Sears Cutlass brand.

In the author description on Amazon, it says:

“seeking to soothe souls through poetry and prose”

and provides a link to this website: anonpoetryandprose.com

So naturally, I followed the link and it takes you to a very basic webpage with a notice of the book launch, a link back to the Amazon page, and a banner that scrolls “This is a sign. -This is a sign” continuously.

The sidebar menu has only 2 options: Contact (“send me a sign”) by email, and “Postcards from Poet” for $20 with the following description: Randomly chosen poems from This is a sign. handwritten by me on a locally-sourced vintage postcard and sent to you from wherever I am ✨

Sounds like this mysterious Anon is quite the jetsetter, traveling around the world and sending postcards.

If the Willow Bowery “Tortured Poet” book is a callback to this community, and specifically to the 🎃 anon riddles, then I surmise that, with the bizzaro TN “there will be signs” ig post and the ATW short film typewriter Easter egg… perhaps our mystery author is TS herself, and this book of poetry (I’m guessing written while she recorded at Long Pond at age 29), Is a message to “us” who need reassurances that everything will be okay.

Anyway, long story short I ordered the book. And I think I might get a postcard when she starts her tour again… and see where it’s sent from.

#submission

30 notes · View notes

oliverreedmasterass · 7 months ago

Text

Synopsis: The members of Greta Van Fleet agree to do an interview with the Human Napkin himself, Nardwuar, and find themselves ridiculously unprepared for his interview style.

Words: 2k

Warnings: language, some sexual innuendos (kinda?), mentions of stalking, the void™️

Notes: Shoutout to @skywaydrifter for the amazing fic idea, and sending me down a wild Nardwuar binge-fest

----------------------------------------------

Nardwuar theme plays with the animated intro video. The shot opens to show NARDWUAR standing in front of an impressive display of vinyl records, next to JOSH KISZKA.

NARDWUAR: How are you?

Nardwuar shoves his microphone into Josh’s face. Josh flinches back a bit, but then leans into the microphone.

JOSH: Absolutely groovy.

NARDWUAR: Tell me who you are.

JOSH: That’s a bit of a loaded question. I’m a dreamer, a mere mortal, a man with a dream…

NARDWUAR: Your name.

JOSH: Oh. Josh Kiszka. Frontman for the group, Greta Van Fleet.

Josh curtsies to the camera.

NARDWUAR: Welcome to Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. And right off the bat, I have a gift for ya.

JOSH puts a hand over his heart and looks at the camera in shock.

JOSH: Now I feel bad, I didn’t bring you anything.

NARDWUAR (continued): I’ve got this 1966 album, All About Miriam.

JOSH: (taking the album and cradling it in his arms) Oh my goodness.

NARDWUAR: I heard that you’re a fan.

JOSH: Miriam Makeba? Oh yeah, she’s one of my favorites. My parents had a few of her albums that they would play all the time when I was younger. She’s got such a rich voice, I can only dream of sounding like that.

NARDWUAR: But you do have a pretty distinct voice that I’m sure a lot of people are jealous of. How did you find that sound?

JOSH: I started screaming and then I guess I kind of found my way, eventually. (chuckles) No, but actually, my vocal coach, Ron, I call him “The Master” because he genuinely saved my vocal cords. I wouldn’t be where I am today without him.

NARDWUAR: How do you do it? Is it special vocal warmups? Some kind of mystery technique?

JOSH: Well, you see, if I told you, I’d have to kill you.

NARDWUAR: I’ve got another gift for you here, Josh.

JOSH: Oh god, now I feel super bad.

NARDWUAR: Costumes are a big part of your stage presence. Here, I’ve got a piece that might look familiar to you.

Nardwuar holds out Josh’s infamous golden pants, and Josh reluctantly takes them.

JOSH: Oh boy, I forgot how shiny and see through these were.

NARDWUAR: You wore these in the sweltering sun on the iHeart Radio festival stage in Las Vegas, Nevada on Saturday, September 22, 2018, didn’t you?

JOSH: I’m not sure if these are the exact pair…

NARDWUAR: They are.

JOSH: Huh? Did you dig them out of the dumpster or something?

NARDWUAR: Now, Josh, can you tell me about Sean Reyes?

Josh looks at Nardwuar with intense skepticism.

JAKE: (offscreen) What the fuck?

JOSH: Now how do you know about Sean Reyes?

NARDWUAR: It’s Josh Kiszka trivia!

Josh squints at Nardwuar, uncertain.

JOSH: Sean Reyes was my third grade teacher.

NARDWUAR: And he was the one who encouraged you to write poetry, right?

JOSH: Yes…..

NARDWUAR: Like haikus?

JOSH: Mr. Reyes would play a lot of folk stuff for us, like John Denver, Joni Mitchell, all the classics, and he could tell I really dug it. He pulled me aside after class, showed me some of his favorite lyrics, and explained how it was a form of poetry. I took that to heart and spent a lot of time outside of class writing poems after that.

NARDWUAR: Were they any good?

JOSH: Well, some lines ended up in our songs, so you tell me.

NARDWUAR: Well, I heard your twin brother behind the camera just now. Let’s bring him out here. Come here, Jake!

JAKE joins Josh’s side in front of the camera, looking nervous. He’s wringing his hands, avoiding eye contact with Nardwuar.

NARDWUAR: Hello, Jake.

JAKE: (short) Hi.

NARDWUAR: I have a gift for you.

JAKE: Uh, okay.

NARDWUAR: It’s a poster from H.O.R.D.E. Festival at Deer Creek Music Center in Noblesville, Indiana featuring big names like Blues Traveler, The Black Crowes, and Taj Mahal from 1995. Something important happened at this festival, right?

Jake pales.

JAKE: Uh. Uh.

Josh is staring pretty hard at Nardwuar.

JAKE: (to Josh) There’s no way he knows about that. How could he know about that?

Nardwuar sneaks the microphone closer into Jake’s mouth.

NARDWUAR: Well?

JAKE: Okay, uh, they might kill me for admitting this on camera, but my parents are pretty sure that’s where Josh and I were conceived.

NARDWUAR: Do you like Taj Mahal?

Jake struggles to rebound from that 180.

JAKE: Um (beat) yeah. I’d list him as a big influence.

NARDWUAR: And another gift for Jake Kiszka!

JAKE: (whispering to Josh) This guy freaks me out.

NARDWUAR: Here you go!

Nardwuar tosses Jake a ziploc bag containing something brown. Jake’s reflexes get the better of him and he grabs the bag out of the air, and then blankly studies what’s in his hands.

JAKE: What the actual fuck.

NARDWUAR: Tell me what you’re holding there!

JAKE: Hair. It’s my hair.

JOSH: What??

JAKE: I’m not even joking. This is what they chopped off, like, last year before our second leg of the Dreams in Gold Tour.

JOSH: (growing defensive of his brother) Where did you get that from?

NARDWUAR: What was the reason for the big chop?

JAKE: I could have sworn my hairdresser said she was going to donate that.

NARDWUAR: Oh, she did.

JAKE: I’m sorry, what?

SAM bounds into the scene in front of the camera, looking energetic.

SAM: This is fun! Do me now!

NARDWUAR: Sam Kiszka! Alright, Jake. Thanks and doot doola doot doo…

JAKE: Huh?

NARDWUAR: (finishing for Jake) Doo doo! (turns to Sam) I have a question for you.

Sam is hopping from foot to foot and clapping his hands with glee while Jake confusedly wanders off camera.

SAM: Fire away!

NARDWUAR: Your aunt works at State Farm in Chicago.

DANNY: (offscreen) That’s not a question.

JOSH: How could you possibly know that?

NARDWUAR: Have you ever had to file a claim with her?

SAM: Well, actually one time…

JOSH: Ssh! Don’t tell him anything.

NARDWUAR: (entirely unbothered) I have a gift you might like, Sam!

SAM: Oh my god! You guys aren’t gonna believe this. It’s my birth certificate!

JOSH: What kind of interviewer are you??

NARDWUAR: I’m just a fan, guys, just a fan. I love your music!

Sam’s phone rings.

SAM: Whoops, sorry. I know this is unprofessional but, one sec. I gotta take this.

Instead of going off camera to answer the phone in private like a normal person, Sam answers the phone and puts it on speaker.

SAM (continued): Y’ello?

KAREN: (obviously shaken) Sam?

SAM: Hey Mom, what’s up?

KAREN: Are you boys alright?

Josh grabs the phone from Sam.

JOSH: Mom? What’s going on?

KAREN: Someone broke into our house while your dad and I were on our trip. We’re worried it might have been a stalker since they took a lot of your possessions and some important documents.

JOSH: Oh my god, are you okay?

KAREN: Fine, just a bit shaken up. But, I’m so sorry, they stole Sammy’s birth certificate.

Sam calls into the phone over Josh’s shoulder.

SAM: Don’t worry about it, Mom! I just got it gifted back to me!

Josh hands Sam his phone and rushes away.

JOSH: (screaming offscreen) RICHARD! WE NEED BACKUP!

KAREN: I’m gonna have to call my sister to file a claim. They broke a crazy amount of our windows. Like, way more than they needed to. What a headache.

DANNY: (to Nardwuar) You have a lot of explaining to do.

NARDWUAR: I’ve got a gift for you, Daniel!

Nardwuar pulls out a pack of old Beatles cards.

DANNY: I don’t want it.

NARDWUAR: It’s a pack of 1964 Beatles collector’s cards, in mint condition!

DANNY: Wait, I do want it.

Danny takes the cards from Nardwuar and looks at them with delight.

NARDWUAR: You’re a big fan of the Beatles, right?

DANNY: Oh yeah, I always have been.

JAKE: You’re not seriously continuing this interview.

DANNY: (while opening and flipping through the pack of cards) I mean, this is a pretty cool gift.

JAKE: (evidently at his wit’s end) This guy 100% broke into my family’s house, and he for sure did the same to your parents.

NARDWUAR: Would you say there was a specific Beatles album that most inspired you?

DANNY: Definitely Rubber Soul. I loved hearing them try folk.

Jake throws up his hands in exasperation.

DANNY: Norwegian Wood genuinely changed my life.

NARDWUAR: In what way?

JAKE: Nope, we’re not doing this anymore.

Jake thrusts his finger up into Nardwuar’s face.

JAKE (continued): What else did you take from us, you son of a bitch?

NARDWUAR: Does it count as “taking” if I give it back to you?

JAKE: Yes!

NARDWUAR: I’d beg to differ.

DANNY: (looking through his cards) Woah! I’ve never seen this photo of Ringo Starr before!

Josh comes rushing back to the scene with their bodyguard and pal, RICHARD.

RICHARD: (scanning around on full alert) Where is he?

JOSH: (shrill, pointing at Nardwuar) There!

Nardwuar simply grins at Richard.

NARDWUAR: Can you tell me about Grubbyknot?

Richard is obviously thrown off, and he lets down his guard.

RICHARD: Huh? Grubbyknot? That was my metal band in high school. But we only played like two shows. One was in my parent’s garage.

JOSH: Don’t let him get into your head, Richard! You’re our big guns, we can’t lose you!

SAM: Do you have another gift for me, Nardwuar?

Nardwuar stares at Sam, entirely expressionless.

NARDWUAR: No, I don’t. Doot doola doot doo…

SAM: Doo-doo?

Upon Sam’s words, he vanishes into thin air. Jake is so terrified, he falls to the ground and cowers on the floor.

JAKE: Jesus Christ!

NARDWUAR: I usually like to speak with only 1-2 people at a time on camera. It’s getting a little bit too crowded for me right now.

Nardwuar looks at Danny, whose attention is finally away from his cards, and is gawking at the empty space where Sam was just standing.

NARDWUAR: (continued, making eye contact with Danny) Doot doola doot doo…

Danny stares back at Nardwuar in horror, his mouth sealed shut. Nardwuar sings the little tune again, holding his microphone up to Danny to finish it.

JAKE: (cutting in) Doo doo! (beat) Fuck!

Jake disappears.

JOSH: (explaining to Richard and Danny) He has this condition where he can’t handle hearing an unfinished tune. Poor guy has a curse.

NARDWUAR: Just one more to go.

Nardwuar focuses his attention back to Danny.

DANNY: Where did you send them?

NARDWUAR: To another place.

DANNY: Super helpful, thanks.

NARDWUAR: Don’t mention it.

DANNY: Are they still alive?

NARDWUAR: I can’t see why not. I’m a fan! I wouldn’t hurt you guys.

Danny sighs.

DANNY: Okay. Send me away so I can do some damage control.

RICHARD: No!

NARDWUAR: Doot doola doot doo…

DANNY: (unenthused, clapping his hands on the beat) Doo doo.

Danny is gone.

RICHARD: My boss is gonna kill me.

JOSH: I’m pretty sure I’m your boss.

Richard widens his eyes and holds his hands up in a defensive position, backing slowly away from Josh.

JOSH (continued): Oh, come on. I’m not gonna hurt you, Richard.

RICHARD: You did dump an entire bag of flour over my head that one time. And kicked that giant chocolate bar in my hands. And swung a folding chair at me backstage.

JOSH: All tiny, insignificant hiccups.

NARDWUAR: Josh, you’re gonna love this next thing that I’ve got for you.

JOSH: Please, no.

Nardwuar hands Josh a Scooby Doo plushie.

NARDWUAR: Tell me what that is.

Josh studies the stuffed animal, trying to discern how it has any relevance to him.

JOSH: Scooby Doo?

NARDUWAR: What was that second word?

JOSH: Doo?

NARDWUAR: Wait. Say it again? (under his breath) Doot doola doot doo…

JOSH: Doo?

Nardwuar taps on his ear, signaling that he didn’t hear Josh. Josh huffs and rolls his eyes.

JOSH (continued, enunciating maybe a little bit too much): Doo!

Josh disappears.

NARDWUAR: Well, this has been fun. Keep on rockin’ in the free world and doot doola doot doo…

It’s silent around him since there’s no one there to finish his jingle. Nardwuar continues to grin wider and wider until he’s nearing uncomfortably close to uncanny valley.

The scene shifts to a confusing plane seemingly everywhere and nowhere at once. A pattern reminiscent of Nardwuar’s red and green plaid Tammy cap stretches from the floor to the sky. Josh and Richard appear in the mysterious space, Josh screaming with terror.

JAKE: Hey.

DANNY: Nice of you to join us.

It takes a while for Josh to collect himself but, when he does, he notices Jake and Danny standing in front of him.

JOSH: Where’s Sammy?

DANNY: He went to take a piss.

RICHARD: Hey, wait, I didn’t say the doo doo thing. Why am I here?

Josh shrugs.

JOSH: We must be a package deal or something.

RICHARD: That’s wildly unfair.

SAM: (off in the distance) Woah, I had a lot more in my bladder than I thought. I wouldn’t come over here if I were you, guys. I can cross “building a manmade lake” off my bucket list.

JAKE: God, I need to get out of here.

DANNY: And how are we gonna do that, Jake?

Jake has no clue. He’s frankly dumbfounded.

The scene jumps back to Nardwuar, still in front of the records. He seems unaware that the camera is still rolling.

NARDWUAR: (to someone offscreen) Yeah, yeah. They should be gone for good. Yup. The plaid void, where I sent Dave Rowntree. We should be good to steal their identities now. God knows we’ve done enough research.

Back in the plaid void.

DANNY: Holy shit, is that Dave Rowntree?

RICHARD: The guy from Blur?

DAVE ROWNTREE: CURSE YE FOUL BEAST, NARDWUAR!

Fin.

Note: The names/facts listed in the interview within this fic are all entirely fictitious. I'm not about to start leaking private and personal information about the guys.

#greta van fleet #gvf #gvf fic #gvf fanfic #gvf fanfiction #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fanfic #josh kiszka #jake kiszka #danny wagner #sam kiszka #richard #nardwuar #the human serviette

18 notes · View notes

twistedtummies2 · 2 months ago

Text

Top 12 Edgar Allan Poe Stories

October has come ‘round, everyone! Usually I have some kind of big Event for this month, but this year, I decided to take things a bit easy on myself and instead do a bunch of single-post lists throughout the month, which are thematically tied to the time of Halloween in some form or another. With that in mind, we’ll kick this month off with a tribute to my favorite author: that Master of the Macabre, Edgar Allan Poe. Poe was the quintessential “tortured artist.” His life story is a tragic and strange one, just as dark and filled with despair as many of the things he wrote. But for all of its pitfalls and distressing points, there was more to the man than doom and gloom: his writing reflects that, as Poe not only was and still is considered the master of the Gothic horror story, but also was a gifted romantic poet, and even wrote many pieces of humorous satire. One of his greatest contributions to literature was the invention of the modern detective story! Works like “The Phantom of the Opera” and characters like “Sherlock Holmes” simply would not exist if it hadn’t been for the prose and poetry of Edgar Allan Poe. Ever since I was young - perhaps too young to fully appreciate the intricacies of his work - I’ve always admired and adored this writer, and so I figured now was as good a time as any to show my appreciation for all this fellow gave to the world of literature. Most of the stories on this countdown will be Poe’s classic horror stories, but there will be some other pieces as well. I WON’T be including any of his poems, however; I’m saving a separate, shorter list for those. With that said, let’s waste time nevermore! These are My Top 12 Stories from Edgar Allan Poe.

12. Descent Into the Maelstrom.

Many people credit Poe for the invention of the modern detective story, which is true and good. However, there’s one thing I think people could credit Poe for creating that has yet to be officially stated as his invention: the creation of what might be called modern “Survival Horror.” These are stories where the fear comes from the protagonist being thrown into a perilous situation, and the audience - usually in the role of said protagonist - just has to go through it and survive, plain and simple. The horror comes from the helplessness of the situation, and the desperate urge to escape, combined with the perspective being done in such a way that the readers (or viewers, or players, depending on the medium) are the ones who are put through it. “Descent Into the Maelstrom” can sort of be seen as a precursor to this style. It is a story within in a story, told largely from the perspective of a fisherman, who relates to a young friend about how he survived an encounter his ship had with a monstrous whirlpool, out in the open sea. It’s revealed that the sailor’s experience was so shocking, it has turned his hair white and made him appear older than he really is. There’s not much else to the story beyond that, but that’s really all it needs: while we know the fisherman obviously survived, the tension remains as we wait to see how he did it, and learn just how close to his own end he nearly got.

11. Never Bet the Devil Your Head.

Like I said, Poe didn’t just write gruesome tales of the macabre and morbid. He also had a sense of humor, and wrote several works of satirical comedy. “Never Bet the Devil Your Head” is my favorite of his comedic works, partially because it is one of his darkest satires; it’s one of a few stories that feel almost like he’s spoofing himself, in some ways, and strangely reminds me of the work of another great author I love, Washington Irving. (Whether this was intentional or not is anybody’s guess.) The story spoofs the idea that all good short tales should teach some kind of moral lesson, as it begins with the Narrator expressing frustration at the fact his critics have judged him for apparently not including a moral in any past works. He thus relates the tale of a friend of his, Toby Dammit. (Yes, you may laugh at that name as much as you like.) Toby is a man who likes to make rhetorical bets, and is particularly fond of declaring, “I’ll bet the Devil my head!” whenever he does so. One day, the Devil himself comes calling, as he stops Toby and the Narrator at a bridge. Toby, not recognizing Old Scratch, makes the rhetorical bet he always does, claiming he can leap over a turnstile in the center of the bridge. The man makes the jump…and has his head lopped off by a hidden blade (“what might be termed a serious injury,” Poe writes), which the Devil then carries off. As a final indignity, after the bill for Toby’s funeral expenses are paid, the Narrator is forced to have his old friend dug up and turned into dog food. This story is as ludicrous as it is morbid, and while the satire is not by any means subtle, it is pretty funny. It’s the only direct comedy tale of Poe’s on this countdown, and not without good reason.

10. The Black Cat.

Many consider this one of Poe’s most noteworthy masterworks. While it doesn’t sit as high for me as some of his other stories - it feels a bit too similar to some other works of his that came both before and after it, which I feel did the concepts involved much greater justice, personally - I do still very much enjoy this story. The tale is told from the perspective of a murderer, awaiting his date with the executioner. The killer relates the details of his ghastly crime, which began when he murdered a black cat that he and his wife once owned, named Pluto. Sometime later, a second black cat came into their lives, which the killer believed was the reincarnation of the first pet, and feared. One day, when trying to kill this second feline with an axe, the narrator accidentally murders his wife in the process. To cover up this heinous deed, he attempted to brick her up behind a false wall in the cellar…but needless to say, things didn’t exactly go the way he expected, once the police showed up. Extraordinarily brutal and highly disturbing, “The Black Cat” is one of Poe’s most ambiguous and unsettling stories, and deserves all the recognition it has garnered over time.

9. Murders in the Rue Morgue.

I have said a couple of times now that Poe is credited with inventing the modern detective story. Poe referred to these tales as “studies in ratiocination;” he treated them more like essays than typical pieces of literature, where the focus was on showing the power of deductive logic in an otherwise inexplicable situation. There were three primary stories in this bunch, two of which are on this countdown. “Murders in the Rue Morgue” was the first and arguably the most well-known and beloved of the bunch, as it combines the elements of a classic piece of what we now recognize as detective fiction, with the trappings of Gothic horror and an almost satirical absurdity, which are so uniquely Poe. The story focuses on gentleman sleuth C. Auguste Dupin, who is called upon to solve a mysterious slew of hideously brutal slayings in Paris. The solution to the crime - SPOILER ALERT - turns out to be that the killings were the work of a sailor’s wayward pet orangutan, who accidentally killed the victims while attempting to shave their faces, the way it saw its owner do numerous times. I love how the solution to this crime is honestly kind of hilarious (in a very twisted way, mind you), as well as totally bonkers, yet the story goes out of its way to make such an utterly insane answer sound surprisingly plausible. You can easily see where future great writers of murder mysteries and sleuth stories, such as Arthur Conan Doyle and G.K. Chesterton, might have taken inspiration. It was a great start to a great genre, and is more than deserving of recognition for that fact.

8. The Pit and the Pendulum.

Yet another example of Poe arguably inventing the “Survival Horror” genre, and honestly, this is probably the very best said example one could have. Once again told from the point of view of the narrator (as most of Poe’s stories were), this tale recounts the experiences of a poor prisoner, being tormented by the Spanish Inquisition. He relates all the ways he was physically and mentally tormented by the Inquisitors, and his cunning attempts to escape his captors. The most notable examples of his torture are a seemingly bottomless pit in the center of his cell, and then later, being stuck under…(pauses)... “Oh. Look. There’s the pendulum of doom! What’s the pendulum of doom doing there?! I did not order the pendulum of doom! It’s overkill! Get rrrrid of it!” (Ahem…sorry, I freaking love that line. XD ) In all seriousness, I can’t recall if the “Pendulum of Doom” concept ever even existed before Poe wrote this story; to my knowledge, it wasn’t a real method of torture/execution, and I can’t remember it being brought up in fiction before this. So, if nothing else, Poe created the original supervillain death trap, and showed just how scary it could be in the process. Doesn’t that earn placement in the Top 10, if nothing else? I thought as much.

7. Hop-Frog.

“Hop-Frog” was Poe’s final story, but you probably wouldn’t guess it from reading this violent tale of vengeance. The story - for once NOT told by an unnamed narrator - focuses on a wicked king and his courtiers, who delight in mocking and abusing their servants. Most notable among their victims are the King’s jester, a hunchbacked dwarf named Hop-Frog, and a dancer by the name of Trippetta, whom Hop-Frog is in love with. The King and his cabinet are fans of practical jokes, so, one day, Hop-Frog offers them an idea for a prank: the King is to host a masquerade ball, and he and his friends are to dress as a horde of orangutans (wow, Poe really liked those, didn’t he?), to scare the other partygoers. The King and his cronies take the jester’s advice, thus falling for Hop-Frog’s trap: the harlequin gives them costumes made out of flammable materials, and, as part of the prank, chains them up and hangs them like a chandelier over the assembled partygoers…before setting them all on fire. As they are burned alive before the horrified revelers, Hop-Frog escapes with Trippetta, pronouncing his vengeance with the words: “this is my last jest!” There is great irony in the fact that Poe probably had no idea this last great declamation against cruelty and prejudice, with a side of Gothic chills, would, indeed, be his last great jest.

6. The Purloined Letter.

This was the third of Poe’s C. Auguste Dupin mystery tales, and it’s the second of the two I mentioned would be on this list. While “Murders in the Rue Morgue” is certainly the most iconic of these tales, I actually think this story is even better. It lacks the sense of Gothic horror and slightly satirical humor the first story has, but it makes up for it by being…well…a darn good detective story! Dupin is called upon for help by the local Prefect of Police, referred to simply as “G.” G wants Dupin to recover a stolen letter, filled with incriminating information, belonging to none other than the Queen of France herself. The police know who is responsible for the theft - an unscrupulous minister simply referred to as “Minister D.” who is using it to blackmail Her Majesty. The problem is that they can’t seem to find the evidence to convict him, nor the incriminating document, even after searching the man’s house. SPOILER ALERT: Dupin later reveals that the letter was in plain view all along. Minister D. had presumed that G. would be searching high and low, so he hid the letter by making it simply seem like junk lingering around in the room, instead of tucking it into some super-secret hiding place. Dupin simply arranged a distraction to make sure Minister D. wasn’t looking, then switched the incriminating letter with a phony, before giving the document to the police. Simple but utterly brilliant; definitely one of the best detective stories ever made, in my books, as well as one of the first.

5. The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar.

This is arguably the single most gory and explicitly grotesque of all of Poe’s stories, as well as one of the most unnerving. I can’t help but feel this particular tale had to be an influence on later writers, most notably H.P. Lovecraft, for its combination of surreal, nightmarish, and viscerally deplorable elements. It’s also one that taps into some primal fears and questions, regarding the eternal mystery of what really separates life from death: a concept that forever fascinated Poe in his works. The story tells of M. Valdemar, an old man who agrees to allow a friend of his - an expert in hypnosis - to induce a state of hypnotic slumber on him while on his deathbed. Valdemar dies while under the hypnotic influence - unnervingly, he is able to speak to the investigators, even after he is dead - but as long as the hypnosis is left in place, his body remains totally intact, as if he is arrested in a state of suspended animation. It is hinted that until his soul is allowed to pass on, his body cannot pass, either. After conducting several experiments on the man, the hypnotist and his colleagues attempt to wake M. Valdemar…and - this is the disgusting part - the man suddenly rots away and decomposes in a matter of seconds before their eyes, literally falling apart at the seams and being reduced to a gory mass of decaying flesh. So gross, so unsettling, and so utterly, utterly horrific…I LOVE IT.

4. Fall of the House of Usher.

This is one of Poe’s earliest horror stories, and it’s widely considered to be the first truly great piece of Gothic literature he ever wrote; other stories before this, such as “Ligeia” and “MS. in a Bottle" do have their values, but “Fall of the House of Usher” is widely regarded as the first actual masterpiece Poe wrote. It is a story that has been adapted and reimagined countless times, and is widely considered one of the author’s most definitive pieces of work. The story focuses on - you guessed it - an unnamed Narrator, who goes to spend some time with a childhood friend, Roderick Usher, as well as Roderick’s beloved sister, Madeline. The Ushers live in a dilapidated mansion, situated on a tiny island in the middle of a murky lake, perpetually surrounded by long-dead trees. Roderick claims to suffer from a medical condition that heightens all of his senses to an alarming rate, while his sister spends much of her time in bed, fighting a terminal illness. The events that occur inside the spooky old mansion will forever traumatize the Narrator, and leave both Roderick and Madeline dead. This is one of Poe’s longest and most complex stories, plot-wise, so I don’t want to give too much away. Suffice it to say, this story has a lot of the hallmarks of later Poe pieces: the themes, motifs, and phobias present are among the most frequently visited in his works following this one, and one could easily make the argument that the House of Usher itself was the inspiration for many a famous haunted house and haunted house story in more modern times. I actually like this story more today than I probably did when I was younger, and it has more than earned its place in my personal top five.

3. The Cask of Amontillado.

This was one of the first pieces by Poe I ever read, and it remains one of my favorites. Once again, our Narrator is a killer, only this time he’s actually given a name: Montresor. It’s indicated that Montresor is a nobleman who lives in Italy, and he has vowed to gain revenge (for reasons that are never made entirely clear) against a former friend of his: a wine-loving gourmet by the ironic name of Fortunato. One night, during Carnival time, Montresor entices Fortunato into a wine cellar with the promise of tasting a rare vintage of amontillado. Montresor claims he wants Fortunato to assure him of the beverage’s authenticity. Once there, he shackles a stupefied Fortunato into a shallow alcove, and proceeds to brick up the place, effectively burying Fortunato alive. The murder plot and the way it is carried out are deeply disturbing, but perhaps the thing that makes the story so particularly fascinating is Montresor himself: Poe leaves some subtle implications of what might be at the heart of this feud that has turned so deadly, but he never gives a clear answer as to why Montresor is not only so intent on revenge, but on using such an extreme method as immurement for his vengeance. It invites the the reader to play detective themselves, in a way, pondering the circumstances around the crime, even as the confession is laid before us.

2. Masque of the Red Death.

In many of Poe’s stories that involve supernatural elements, it’s left ambiguous how much of them are real or imagined. This is not the case with “Masque of the Red Death,” and if that’s not unnerving enough, the actual subject matter of the story will be. To a greatly unsettling degree, this story is arguably more powerful today than it’s ever been. Unlike so many other Poe tales, this one is written in the third person (much like “Hop-Frog”), and tells the legend of a horrible plague that swept across a far-off kingdom. This plague was called The Red Death: it caused its victims to sweat blood, and killed within half an hour. To try and escape the scourge, the “dauntless and sagacious” Prince Prospero has himself, his courtiers, and many of his fellow royals and noblemen take refuge in his castle, where they party and cavort, even as the populace beyond the palace walls are left to die from the epidemic. One night, while holding a masquerade ball, however, the Prince and his allies are visited by a mysterious stranger, who is ultimately revealed to be the Red Death itself. You can probably guess how things go from there. The story is a cautionary tale against the inevitability of death, and how no matter what one tries to do, no one - however smart, rich, or powerful they may be - can truly escape it forever. Haunting and unsettlingly truthful, it is easily one of Poe’s most iconic pieces.

1. The Tell-Tale Heart.

Believe it or not, I first learned of this story because of - out of all things - an episode of Spongebob Squarepants. No, that is not a joke: there’s an episode of Spongebob that directly spoofs this short story. Naturally, of course, I prefer the original, but I figured that was worth sharing for the amusement of it. ANYWAY… “The Tell-Tale Heart” is considered one of Poe’s darkest and most delightfully ambiguous pieces (and that’s saying a lot), and for good reason. Once again, our unnamed Narrator is the protagonist…and also, much like in “Cask of Amontillado” or “The Black Cat,” they’re a murderer. However, the killer has a specific agenda in this case: he’s trying to prove that he ISN’T insane. How does he do this? By telling the reader the story of how he murdered and the dismembered a helpless old man that he cared about (it’s left unsure if they are his father, his employer, or something/someone else), because the old man had a weird eye that gave him the heebie-jeebies. (pauses) Yeah. Great way of professing your own sanity there, big shot. In all seriousness, though, that’s the brilliance of Poe’s story: as the tale goes on, it becomes clearer and clearer to the reader that the protagonist is absolutely out of their mind…and that makes the big event - when he swears he hears his mutilated victim’s heart beating under the floorboards - all the more ambiguous. We can reasonably presume it’s a hallucination, but it’s not directly stated to be so. There’s also the possibility it’s a manifestation of his guilty conscience. On another note, just like Roderick Usher, this narrator claims to once again have heightened senses; could he be hearing something else and making a mistake? Or perhaps…just perhaps…it’s the old man’s ghostly specter, haunting him and forcing him to admit to his crime? None of these answers would be out of the realm of possibility where Poe is involved, and all of them are interesting to ponder. However you read into it, “The Tell-Tale Heart” is a gripping and profoundly troubling tale of madness, murder, and many strange, unanswered questions…in other words, all the things that make this author’s work in the fields of horror and crime so renowned. It is no surprise this takes the cake as My Favorite of the Works by Edgar Allan Poe.

HONORABLE MENTIONS INCLUDE…

Morella.

The Gold-Bug.

The Oblong Box.

The Premature Burial.

#list #countdown #best #favorites #top 12 #stories #literature #short stories #edgar allan poe #halloween #horror #mystery

7 notes · View notes