Reblog If Youre A Writer Who Feels Guilt Whenever Theyre Not Writing And Being Productive, So I Know

reblog if you’re a writer who feels guilt whenever they’re not writing and being productive, so I know I’m not the only one lol

There may only be two fics (that I can read) that aren’t made by me surrounding the Kokushibo/Giyū tag but it’s still nice to see it getting more attention

〔´∇｀〕

Chapter one

(split in half, top part Giyū would be at the top, and bottom half Kokushibo at the end)

Two households, both alike in dignity

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.

Chapter two,

(depicts them, meeting for the first time, they are on unequal levels)

With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew,

Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs.

But all so soon as the all-cheering sun

Should in the farthest east begin to draw

The shady curtains from Aurora’s bed,

Away from light steals home my heavy son

And private in his chamber pens himself,

Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out,

And makes himself an artificial night.

Black and portentous must this humor prove,

Unless good counsel may the cause remove.

Chapter three

(Seeing eye to eye, but still having to reach out)

Alas that love, so gentle in his view,

Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!

Alas that love, whose view is muffled still,

Should without eyes see pathways to his will!

Where shall we dine?—O me! What fray was here?

Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.

Here’s much to do with hate, but more with love.

Why then, O brawling love, O loving hate,

O anything of nothing first create!

O heavy lightness, serious vanity,

Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms,

Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health,

Still-waking sleep that is not what it is!

This love feel I, that feel no love in this.

Dost thou not laugh?

No, coz, I rather weep.

Good heart, at what?

At thy good heart’s oppression.

Why, such is love’s transgression.

Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,

Which thou wilt propagate to have it pressed

With more of thine. This love that thou hast shown

Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.

Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs;

Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers’ eyes;

Being vexed, a sea nourished with loving tears.

What is it else? A madness most discreet,

A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.

Farewell,

Chapter four

(Idk, romance shit, it doesn't exist yet)

Chapter Five

(Domestic stuff and clearly mutual)

Chapter one

(split in half, top part Giyū would be at the top, and bottom half Kokushibo at the end)

Two households, both alike in dignity

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.

Chapter two,

(depicts them, meeting for the first time, they are on unequal levels)

With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew,

Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs.

But all so soon as the all-cheering sun

Should in the farthest east begin to draw

The shady curtains from Aurora’s bed,

Away from light steals home my heavy son

And private in his chamber pens himself,

Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out,

And makes himself an artificial night.

Black and portentous must this humor prove,

Unless good counsel may the cause remove.

Chapter three

(Seeing eye to eye, but still having to reach out)

Alas that love, so gentle in his view,

Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!

Alas that love, whose view is muffled still,

Should without eyes see pathways to his will!

Where shall we dine?—O me! What fray was here?

Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.

Here’s much to do with hate, but more with love.

Why then, O brawling love, O loving hate,

O anything of nothing first create!

O heavy lightness, serious vanity,

Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms,

Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health,

Still-waking sleep that is not what it is!

This love feel I, that feel no love in this.

Dost thou not laugh?

No, coz, I rather weep.

Good heart, at what?

At thy good heart’s oppression.

Why, such is love’s transgression.

Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,

Which thou wilt propagate to have it pressed

With more of thine. This love that thou hast shown

Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.

Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs;

Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers’ eyes;

Being vexed, a sea nourished with loving tears.

What is it else? A madness most discreet,

A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.

Farewell,

Chapter four

(Idk, romance shit, it doesn't exist yet)

Chapter Five

(Domestic stuff and clearly mutual)