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krispdreemurr · 2 months

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yesterday upon the stair

[wrote a little thing set in my wildly theoretical pre-reset deltarune timeline, examining the diversion point and the first few moments where it got started.

thank you to Mel @everyone-needs-a-hoopoe and my partners so much for ideas, beta-ing, letting me ramble incoherently abt Kris at them, etc]

The sun is shining, high above. The world is caught in a single beam of sunlight, a ray that crosses from heaven to earth to something deeper down.

It doesn't warm their skin.

They've been walking in the beam for a long time, climbing up steps of frozen light. There's something higher up they need to reach.

There's something far below they don't want to see again.

For a moment, they look down and see the sea of shifting silver.

Then they lift their gaze again.

There's a man beside them, a man who's been there the entire time, matching their steps. The light catches off his face, renders him hard to see, but he is shaped a little like a human.

They want to ask him things. To open their mouth.

No sound. Any sound is drowned out by the light. It speaks for them and speaks through them and anything it hasn't said is barred from them. Their throat fills with gold and they're forced to swallow, coughing, feeling it burn away something inside, feeling reduced.

They try again. Gentler, softer, without opening their mouth at all, without daring to disturb the sunlight.

They ask a question.

The man tilts his head, lifts his hands. They don't know sign well, but meaning writes itself anyways. “You may need to speak up a little more than that,” he says, grinning - or is his face just like that? “Still. It was a good try.”

They nod, focus. Try to catch hold of how he's gently imposing meaning, divorced from motion and from sound.

They ask his name.

“An excellent question,” he answers. “The light offers a choice of roles I could take, but many would limit me. Still, there's one here, half-formed, almost struggling to escape my notice. A role at the edges, but a critical one.”

The grin widens.

“So please address me as Dr. Gaster.”

(A crack of bone. A break in the world. Was his face always broken that way, the deep gashes through it, up and down?)

“It doesn't hurt,” he reassures them. “Simply a part of the process.”

They ask another question. This one is simpler.

“The process of leaving this place to elsewhere.” The man lifts a hand up. “This world you've cut - I suspect nothing of your kind was meant to last here, much less my kind. The gaze it affords backstage is returned in kind with a brighter gaze on us. And so, you will leave, and you will cut down and not up the next time, and we will return only prepared.”

They tilt their head, puzzled. Next time? Returning?

He turns to look at them, expression unreadable.

“You understand it, do you not? Even if you and I cannot name it. You have met with a senseless tragedy tonight, and asked for an answer even as you fought for your escape. And here is that answer. Here is the hand that cast the dice and wrote our stories. Mine, that ended before we ever met; yours, meant to take this moment as backstory and continue on with whatever cruel play it asks of you.”

They don't ask what tragedy. Even now, in this hazy space, if they look down they still see silver waves of dust lapping against their feet.

The man continues on as if their downward gaze was an answer. “We were not meant to see, and yet we have. And with knowing, we see an answer. If we claim this story and seize the role of playwright–”

He laughs, silent, filling the space between them with static.

“Then that should prove very, very interesting.”

If they manage it, then, they start to ask, if they succeed in this…

They can't go on. Her name is too loud, even to imply.

He pauses, then turns. Holds out a hand.

He nods, once.

They take the hand, and walk on.

The light brightens, brightens, as they walk in silence. They don't look up or down, just keep walking.

Just as the weight of the light becomes painful, there is a grey door, incongruously set to the side of the spiral staircase hovering gently in the air.

The man opens it, and beyond is blessed quiet dark.

He steps through, not letting go of their hand, and they move to follow, but–

Just for a moment. Just for a moment, one eye closed like it could protect them, they glance up

and

the sun gazes down on them, and there is no malevolence, there is no hate, there is love and love and love and it is a love that splits flesh and bone and muscle apart and lifts their soul up in its hand a tiny pale light against the beautiful sun and it loves them so much as it opens its mouth and

They are pulled through, forcibly, and the door closes behind them.

They're sprawled on the floor of the bunker, shaking, tears running from one eye. Their brother's voice is coming from somewhere far away, accompanied by metallic pounding, but they still can't make out words.

The floor hatch is behind them. Closed.

For a second, they just look at it. Remembering her stumbling, trying to catch herself, then dropping silently. Her expression in the flickering beam had been bemused, not surprised.

They'd scrambled down the ladder (hatch dropping behind them with a clang), flashlight slipping from their hand as they called her name again and again into the dark. It had been so dark there, and they'd crawled across the floor for what felt like hours, hunting for her, for the flashlight, for anything. The room had been so impossibly cold.

When they'd finally found the light, though, it had been so small.

A few shelves with cans of supplies. A few machines against the walls, squat and looming. Tables with computers and with unknown devices.

On the floor, by the ladder, a little pile of silvery dust.

In a chair, still dressed in tattered rags, almost relaxed as it gazed at Kris with empty eyesockets–

Then the scramble up the ladder, trying to shove the locked hatch up and away, jamming their little pocket knife into the cracks between hatch and ceiling to try and break locks or remove rust or do anything at all to get out and they'd caught hold of something pierced in and the light had spilled outward and and and–

There's something in their hand.

They look down, see the skeletal hand wrapped around theirs.

For a long moment, they just stare - then they sit up, shoving it into their hoodie pocket. They wipe at their eye with a sleeve, feel a flare of pain but manage to dry the tears.

They stand, and they walk to the door.

Beyond, pale winter sunlight, and a brother relieved and a sister in shock, and questions they cannot answer with their voice still drowned and gone.

But they have a promise to hold to.

They close their eyes and remember a truer, brighter sun.

They see, again and again, how good it will be to watch it fall.

#krisp fic #deltarune #fuck it using the main tag. read my experimental au deltarune fic boy

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mythandlaur · 9 months

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Code: July Day 12 - Hopeless

There's no way I'm getting all the ones I want to done in July at this point, so you'll probably see a few stragglers posted in the next couple weeks.

This one's based on the prologue of the fangame IFSCL, but since the whole story isn't out yet I've kind of taken my own spin on it. The premise should mostly explain itself, at least.

And no, I'm not doubling this up with day 30's prompt, because I want to actually show them being happy for that one.

...

13-04-2010

If you could live your life over again, what would you do differently?

It was one of those lofty questions you only got in philosophy questions or as essay prompts to judge your character. Jeremie had always hated that, the kind of question that has no right answer, a problem with no solution. It always leaves him flailing trying to figure out what he's supposed to say in response--he's much more comfortable with math and science, where things aren't necessarily simpler, but every consistent action has a specific result. Two plus two always equals four. Baking soda and vinegar always makes carbon dioxide.

Even in the quantum sciences where there was far more uncertainty, he still held the belief that it all fit into a paradigm people just hadn't figured out yet. Time moves in a straight line, unless it doesn't, according to some rule that hadn't yet been discovered.

Computers, most of all. If you delete something (really delete it, not just your grandma wiping the Recycle Bin), it should be irretrievable.

If you could do things over again. It was supposed to be a hypothetical. But all the laws he knows have already fallen to pieces--and behind it, he's forced to face that question in a terrifyingly real way.

It's hard for him to read the flickering blue display on the screen across the room with one of his glasses' lenses rendered a useless conflagration of spiderweb cracks. 30...20 seconds left, maybe? Jeremie could've force-executed the special RTTP immediately, of course, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to enter the last command. Did that make him a coward? It's not like an extra minute would make much of a difference.

Maybe he should've known this was coming the moment he'd looked into the news article, and the strange events that had immediately followed.

Dr. Hugh Tyron found dead in his home...asphyxiated...no signs of struggle...under posthumous investigation for cyberterrorism and possession of confidential documents and technology. The name had struck Jeremie as vaguely familiar, like he'd seen it in passing, and a bit of digging revealed a paper trail perfectly parallel to Waldo Schaeffer and the other members of Project Carthage he'd managed to identify.

Immediately after the article, those other members began dying one after another, in either a set of serial murders or horrific accidents usually involving power lines or out-of-control industrial equipment.

Mr. Delmas had, out of the blue, sent a friendly email to Jeremie asking about info security--apparently, the Kadic school records had been breached and he was concerned about student safety, but had no idea where to start in upgrading their outdated systems.

A fire had broken out at the old Renault factory, putting it back on the city's radar and resuming talks of demolition.

A prolonged blackout had struck the entire city of Valence, France, where Jeremie's parents lived and where he would've still been at the time if he hadn't left for college in America a couple of weeks early.

Twelve times, they'd tried again to destroy it. Twelve times, they'd succeeded, but got less and less of a reprieve, had less and less hope. It only figured that number thirteen was the unlucky one.

And now, here he is, running the last resort RTTP, one so extreme none of them would remember anything once all was said and done. He wouldn't be doing it if he was completely hopeless--he was sure there had to have been something they could've done to prevent this outcome, maybe when XANA was weaker. But it's not like he'll be able to do much to change things, just relying on their scattered half-memories to guide them down another path. It's a long shot, but maybe it'll work. He has to believe that.

Jeremie wishes he'd had time to leave something behind for his younger self, a message or a bit of advice or something, but there's no way something like that would survive a RTTP as big as this one anyway, so he's left simply speculating to pass the last few seconds. He's probably going to miss his own perspective the most--because XANA had been big, yes, but so many things had seemed equally as big and scary back then when they just weren't, things as simple as talking to his friends or having a crush or telling the truth--dear god, he's going to have to come out all over again isn't he--

Maybe...maybe he would tell himself to spend more time with them, not to just save it for a later he hadn't been sure was coming. Not to get so worked up over little things, because he only ever got so annoyed because he was scared. Tell them more, in general. Several incidents could've been avoided like that.

Like William. That's one of the things that was obvious in hindsight--he wasn't angry at William, only a tiny bit of it had ever been at William. It was a whole mess of mistakes on everyone's part, but it wasn't William's fault that Jeremie had spent an entire summer break sulking and come back full of spite.

Yeah, Jeremie thinks, that's definitely one thing he'd want to change. He'd devirtualize William instead of freezing up and yelling at him uselessly. Maybe they'd be a little closer at the end.

He sees the counter hit single digits. He considers telling Yumi, on the other side of the door to the busted cargo elevator behind him, but decides against it. The whine from the mainframe, this time loud enough to be clearly audible two floors up, should be enough of an indicator.

Aelita's stuck upstairs. He wishes he could call her. He hopes she understands. He hopes that she can hope alongside him, because she's always been like that, even on her worst days.

Really, if anyone's going to figure out what's going on and how to stop XANA this time, it's going to be her, out of sheer stubbornness if nothing else. He can't hope to match that.

The whine reaches a fever pitch, but the air doesn't grow thick like he's used to it doing. He can move perfectly fine, without time seeming to slow to a crawl while his brain runs too fast to keep up.

A white light springs from the center of the laboratory, and Jeremie shields his eyes--but not fast enough to miss a flicker in the air in front of him.

It...is him, he realizes as he peeks out from in between his fingers. Younger and dumber and looking like he's staring into an oncoming train, but definitely himself. The elder tries to scramble to his feet, tries to wave a greeting, think of something to say, I'm sorry, I forgive you--but before he can get a word out his world goes green, then white in a shower of painful sparks.

09-10-2003

Jeremie lurches backwards, the weight of his own backpack nearly sending him tumbling. He grips onto the side of the bridge to steady himself and takes a moment to catch the breath he'd suddenly lost.

What had that been just now, on the other side of the bridge, looking at him?

He rubs his eyes with the heel of a hand, glancing over to where he'd seen it, but...the stranger who'd been standing there is nowhere to be seen.

"What was that?...I really need to get some sleep."

For a moment, he looks over his shoulder, considering going back and telling Maya. But--that's dumb, what's he even supposed to say to her, that he'd had a weird dream? He hadn't even explained those to her properly yet. Besides, once he got the remote connection set up, he would be able to talk to her whenever he wanted--and as of right now, he'd be in enough trouble if he got caught outside of the dorms.

He ignores the chill down his spine, or the sudden weight on his shoulders, as he hops down the ladder to the waterways where he'd parked his scooter.

(A boy sits bolt upright, whipping his head around towards the other bed in his room with a long-since-dulled venom on his tongue for being woken up--but then he remembers that he's never had a roommate.)

(A girl presses her ear to her doorway, but she doesn't hear her parents arguing. So why can't she sleep? She checks her phone out of habit, but that's stupid. No one ever calls her. And--she likes it that way, doesn't she?)

(A boy--or at least they think they must be a boy, at the time--scrambles about trying to keep a small, hyperactive dog from destroying a hotel room so he can get a few seconds of peace to call his family and let him know he'd gotten there safe, despite already knowing the call's going to go to voicemail. He really hopes whoever he's rooming with will be cool about dogs.)

(An older boy's in the middle of writing his twenty-sixth love letter that night when his stomach suddenly drops out from under him and his eyes sting with frustrated tears. He sits back in his chair, stares out the window, and decides he's done enough work on his little project for one night.)

(A virtual girl lies on her back and stares up towards the vanishing point of the datastream far above, suddenly convinced that there must be an infinite amount of life to live beyond it, despite having no evidence. She does not know that world. She has never known it. So how can she miss it with such ferocity?)

(And a blond with broken glasses opens his eyes to find white as far as he can see, except for a line at the horizon where a rainbow sits like a smeary soap bubble, as if the light itself has slowed enough to split into its constituent colors--or, perhaps, he was moving too fast. He slumps down against a door that isn't there anymore, realizing abruptly that he is both Schrodinger and the cat, in one place and time and another, existing and not existing.

He settles in for a millisecond that will last an eternity. But perhaps, if he goes unobserved, he can be in that other place, just for a moment.

And if that's right, he vows to do whatever he can to fix the odds, this time.)

#code lyoko #codejuly23 #i admit this is a weird one but i mostly wrote it for my rp homies who are using this verse #shoutout to them

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amybyrnexb3001 · 1 year

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Finishing the resubmission - Part 3

I am going to break down some changes to blueprints as well as new blueprints created during this post.

Starting off with the curtain blueprints.

While I am sure there probably is a more efficient way of blueprinting here, I am an artist and very much a beginner to blueprinting. Though I feel like I managed to achieve what I set out to do.

The last half of this blueprint has remained pretty much unchanged. The only difference past the timeline section is that I decreased the amount the curtain would shrink as it moves slightly so it wouldn't become too small. And of course there is now 4 separate timelines and transforms to reflect the change in 4 total interactable items rather than 2.

One of the changes I made initially was to remove the box trigger, I wasn't sure at first how to make it so items would update without having to walk through a box trigger but a classmate advised using event tick which works so much better. With this, the curtains will automatically begin to open when each condition is met.

I also applied this change to the other curtain BP, the switch actor BP for the plant and the new switch actor BP for the sketchbook.

Due to new items being interactable I also had to set the curtains to check for a variety of combinations. As an example, for the curtain to open further when the player interacts with two objects, any combination of the four objects should work. To make this work I set up several 'AND' statements feeding into an 'OR' this way any combination of items will open the curtain further providing there is at least two of them.

I repeated a similar process for the part requiring 3 items to be collected and all 4.

Following on from the branches I added a Do Once function to prevent the game trying to run through everything each time an item is interacted with.

The second curtain BP is laid out in the same way, the difference only being in the direction that it moves away as it opens.

The BP for the plant to update has seen the same sort of changes. Replacing the box trigger to an event tick and making sure that every combination of items works to update the plant. Finally adding in the Do Once to prevent any issues with the game running and checking every part each time an item is interacted with.

The sketchbook is similar to the plant, but with fewer changes. The sketchbook has 3 different materials that show the painting on the front growing over time.

I created the textures by doing 3 separate paintings of the flower growing then importing the watercolour paintings to be textures before setting a material for each.

Unlike the plant there are less changes to this item as there are only 3 versions. So the blueprint was a little simpler than the previous one.

Finally I created an ico file for the game icon to tie everything together just by cropping my plant painting on Photoshop and using a converter online to switch the file type from png to ico.

I think that concludes all of the changes I have made to this project. Next steps will be updating documentation, potentially making a new show reel to showcase the game in its current form and uploading the project.

Everything is packaged and works fine after a few fixes to some minor issues.

I also plan to get renders of all of my furniture I have modelled with the materials applied. I will include these in the next post once documentation and submission is complete.

#gamesdesign #gamedesign #university #uni #3dmodelling #maya #unreal #unrealengine #ue5 #xb3001

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godzexperiment · 1 year

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this one's heavy, as an head's up

(this is about like main background/lore flavor of full whack *ie nix's bare bones*) Out of nothingness, barely greeted into the world and face to face with his maker. Easy to tell all sorts of cracks in the facade. Was his purpose after all- would be more so as time went on. Not long after slight bit of chatter did work begin. Listening to the verbalizing of frustration in regards to human behavior- something about what he could figure out was probably another angel.

Welcome to the rest of quite possibly forever; enjoy your stay it's going to be fucking awful.

----------- Light, warmth and love. Three words oft used to describe the maker. Far more than just that, though Nix was very aware of being the only real witness to only even limited amounts of God's inner complexities. Not an blessing to be held in that regard. Burning cold, stinging sensation. Fingers curled against the ground; bloody as his body begged to be reset. Yet he didn't think to ask, plead or beg. Didn't apologize for the mess he was making; even though it was on the tip of his tongue. Had no idea what wounds might be healed, or not healed. Just trying to ride it out until the anger dissipated. Abscess. Every little bit wiped off the cosmic chalkboard. Not even the faintest impression left behind. Aside the memory which could have probably been gotten wiped off too but- that wasn't part of it most the time. Rolling over onto his back and watching the facade was back. Calm. Presence that most others got only the one side of. And without an single word. Left. Just laying there an while before getting onto his feet. Crash some spot more comfortable even though didn't need the rest- but didn't want to stay in that part of the area. --------------- It was an simpler day, mention of his siblings without disdain or alike standard sentiments. Nix being allowed to roam in what was practically off limits most the time. All the plant life that made him wish could put it down onto paper or something. Art. Of course an ever constant undercurrent. Exhaustion. Desire to abandon all of creation. Yet left unaddressed. Instead the odd smile as talked fondly about creation. And Nix's fingers carefully traced surfaces while doing his duty of listening. Though in this circumstance it was very much of free will. Especially when would be interjections. Offered names and details about certain flowers that made Nix's roaming pause. Don't get attached. This is just an rare moment, don't express too much ease and tread lightly. Failing to notice the lull of being spoken to. Panic when realized- except he was just met with an warm smile. Tossing of paper, pencils because of course that desire had been known. Settling down next to where he was stood; back to talking and he listened while pencil scratched across the surface. ----------- "Make it stop. Stop. stop. stop. Stop!" If it was this hellish for him, emotions like electricity coursing and burning inside him as they were felt. Quite literally given he smelled like he was smoking. Then he sure didn't want to know what horror it might be from an human's perspective. Not enough words, in any language to describe the experience being had. Only the begging that slipped out. Scream, realizing must have been whimpering long before that point. Wrinkling nose as the smell made him feel dizzy. How long? How much longer... Then came it's absence and Nix pitched forwards. Caught before could entirely collapse. "I.. think it should be scrapped- it'd just kill a human." Not sure why was offering feedback to his maker. But given had been told to explain as went through it. Had done so dutifully till it reached the point of rendering trying impossible. Unsure it mattered. As the world went dark from the shock of it all; knew was only going to just be unconsciousness still terrifying all the same. ----------- His wings ached, from the strain of testing his limits. More specifically the speed of flying which was not by design, unique to him. Unsure why any of the situation was happening but of course no explanation was offered. Might not even be anything more than some random impulse theory testing. Coming to an rest as felt some muscles threatening to rip themselves apart if he didn't. Mouth opening to apologize, or explain only to close as was told more than free to rest. That had other matters to tend to anyways. Expecting to either just be left to wait till healed by his own means. Or just have the damage taken away.

Apparently the third option was far worst than the first. Going through what would have been the whole healing process, every ache and burn. Desire to claw at his wings and connected muscles. In probably not even seconds over with.

Left alone to recover from it all, his wings around him to try helping calm down. Gently tracing his fingers along feathers apologetically. Especially given part of him wanted to push further than what had almost become showing off. --------------

Far too weary, should not be trying to practice using swords. An sword that wasn't meant to be used ever by anybody. Yet secured it's holder to his body. Left hand grabbing to pull it out. Far too heavily weighted even if he'd had all the strength in the world. Slicing pain of it slashing across his finger pads. Clattering to the ground; of the sword as clutched his hand. Not the worst pain ever felt by any means or the strongest of wound. Yet for some reason it brought out tears from his eyes. And the smell certainly made him feel ill. Watching as the skin became unmarked again. Aside the blood that had managed to escape. Yet it did also seem to scar. Impressions. Would be with him forever- not that he needed actual scarring to have scars. Regretting even thinking about it as his mind supplied down the route of the list that only ever grew. Marks that didn't exist but did for him. ------------ Nails dug into his flesh, body trying to escape the mental anguish. Droplets of blood; blood under nails as crescents formed into the palm of his hand practically bordering his wrist. Eventually it was over with. The feeling of careful handling as studied what had happened. Healing- though some time later scars came to be there. Could maybe be the habit of it that happened multiple times. Or something else. Didn't really care- or want to bring it up. ------------- How many times could one place get harmed; trick question no limit if the person doing it could just wipe all trauma of the area away. Except, apparently there was an limit as observed when an patch of skin formed an silver line of scar tissue. Likely could be gotten rid of. Or maybe not. Theory wasn't tested. Nix when alone just sat there tracing it's raised surface. Curious. Afraid. Having to really try hard to not see the history of that section's history of injuries. Especially when apparently something about the spot had managed to form scar tissue. Hadn't even been from some celestial, angelic weapon or godly means either.

#heavy cw #long post cw #abuse cw #torture cw #experimentation mention cw #violence cw #injury cw #<< falling apart at the seams i cant deny >> headcanons #<< dream you cannot escape >> drabbles #(okay this is getting like really long so i'm restraining myself and going to continue the brain rot into another collection lmao)#(nix in the just brutal base verse of his character design has only known some major unique fuckery oof)#(across them all oh does he deserve being loved and to catch a break as he's been through It damn)

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phantapm-senior-project · 1 year

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Week 9

Last Scene Conception

With the time I had left, I wasn’t sure if I could deal with animating wind again for the flowers (as well as tree tops), so I went with a simpler scene that was still pretty to look at!

The final reference image

I also played around with the concept of blood moon, and although it looks cool, I didn’t think it fit the gradient, nor the type of “story” I wanted to tell

Quite spooky no? Maybe another time

And here is the original original piece--I didn’t think I could learn 3D vfx in a week, so the swirls went bye bye

My inspiration was most obvious here

Said inspiration

Creating in 3D

This is what I made with 3D without any texture. Yes, it’s barren, but the complexity comes with creating the water in the scene.

How do I do that?

Water simulation in blender

Very simple shapes to start us off

Texturing everything BUT the water

How it actually looks in 3D

youtube

Twinkling stars

Now you may have noticed everything is basically done except the water. Because it’s a water simulation, the process is a lot more complex to get it fully rendered out and looking the way I want it to.

I’ve been following a tutorial online and it has been working thus far, but it is not ready to be rendered--I need to make a few more adjustments and make sure Blender doesn’t crash (a big one with intensive processes like this)

One adjustment that’s important is to make the water match the scene. Most likely that won’t happen with using the default HDRIs, so I wanted to try to make my own of the scene we already have (which is why I worked on the other parts first)

Silly fisheye is silly fisheye

When I work on the water for next week, I’ll try this out and see if it produces that desired look. If not, I’ll look for a photo HDRI that best matches the starry atmosphere.

Character Design

Not only was I trying to make progress with the last scene, but I also wanted to finally design the character woo!

My main idea was that the character should change clothes when transitioning from scene to scene. A logical place to start would be the sunflower scene.

Sketches for figuring out what I want

I was very inspired by a dress I had, but I didn’t want to recreate it one for one, so I played around with how I could change up the design while also making it safe for animation. What ended up was a very “cottage core” peasant outfit with the added twist of a princess cut.

In terms of colors, I had to think for a while. Originally I wanted the colors to match my original dress (which was the very first color test) but it ended up blending too much with the background. Then I tried the colors I used to sketching for fun, but that gave me the idea:

What if I used the shadows of the scene as her main color palette--a way for her to blend into the scene while also standing out.

And so I went with that.

Turnaround

The official turnaround I’ll be referencing when animating

I decided to go with a more “chibi” look instead of the more realistic proportioned one because I thought it’d be simpler to animate! And also I thought it would fit the installation a bit more to have a more cutesy look.

Next Steps

Slowly but surely the final product is getting closer and closer. For next week I’d like to have done the following:

Added the water simulation and have finished the final scene

Design the other two outfits on the character

Begin thinking of the animatic

Time is slowly getting crunched as the end of the semester is nearing ever so slightly, but I’ll do the best I can to get a lot of progress done!

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mccrayhong59 · 2 years

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How To Auto Tune Your Voice

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icryyoumercy · 2 years

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irresponsible adhd cleaning/organisation advice

once you render something neat and tidy, it becomes easier to keep it neat and tidy

however, this only works if you find the right kind of neat and tidy. yes, this sounds like some sort of ‘if you only believe hard enough’ but hear me out (read me out? stick with me?)

neat and tidy here doesn’t mean ‘i put it away so no one will see it, because if the room is empty, then it is by necessity neat’

it means ‘this thing now lives somewhere where it makes sense for it to live, both in terms of getting it in order to use it and in putting it away after using it’

it’s not necessarily easy to figure out where things need to go in order for that to work, but that’s the neat thing about this system. you don’t need to walk up to the thing, and look at it, and consider where it should reasonably be stored. you just. leave the thing be where it is, until you need it next, at which point you might have to take it into another room or combine it with something else or any number of other things, and you might forget you were intending to use it at some point in this process, but you now have immediate data on how you use the thing. not on how it should be used, not on how other people use it, not on any sort of ideal or perfect use of it, but on what you do when you need to use this thing

and with that freshly in mind, you can look at it and decide where to leave it until you use it next. it might stay there, it might not, you might add other things to it, you might move it a bit because other things need to be in a similar location and you don’t have infinite storage space, but it’ll be closer to where you generally expect and/or need it to be

and then just... keep doing that until the thing has one (or a small number of) places where it belongs, and where it’s easy to keep it

for example, the thing where clean clothes just... accumulate around the dryer or in a heap on the bedroom floor, or really anywhere but your wardrobe

at some point, after ‘remove the wardrobe doors’ or ‘make folding clothes simpler’ didn’t work for me, and after having to look for socks for ages in the pile of clean clothes, i decided to try a different approach. i could see where the clothes accumulate, so i got a box, and set it next to that pile, and just separated out the socks. just that. not all of the socks, even. but when i had the pile of clothes, there were usually a few socks visible, so i took them and put them in the socksbox. and in the morning, when i needed socks, i didn’t have to go through the entire pile, i could just get them from the box instead

and since that seemed to work pretty well, i added another box for underpants, because they are also easily taken from the clean clothes pile and dumped into a box. and then, i added another box for t-shirts, because those are also quite frequent parts of the pile

and maybe a year later or so, a put a shelf next to where the clean clothes pile lives, so that i had more space, and because i ran out of boxes. and i still don’t fold my clean laundry most of the time, and when i’m having a bad brain day/week/month, the pile might still accumulate a bit, but even then it’s a lot easier to deal with, because it’s right there, and so is the proper storage, and i might not be able to deal with all of it, but i am usually able, when i walk past it, to pick up a sock or a pair of underpants or a pillowcase or whatever is on top of it, and shove that into the box or shelf where it lives, and the clean clothes might stay there for a while, until my brain is working more reasonably again, but it doesn’t spread too much, and i won’t have too much trouble finding socks or underwear, and all of that at least helps to keep me from spiraling too far

it doesn’t look neat and tidy according to any popular sort of interior design, but i know where my clean clothes generally are, the giant overwhelming mountain of things i need to tidy up but can’t has shrunken into a manageable hill, and i don’t lose five minutes every morning trying to find the other sock

it’s not necessarily pretty, but it does what it needs to do, and that’s all i need

#give me therapy i’m a walking travesty #what i am an adult look at me adult #you know that post about #'look where things accumulate #then put a box there'#pretty much this #and then keep an eye on the boxes #and if they accumulate put a shelf there #or use stackable boxes

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weirdmarioenemies · 3 years

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Name: Podoboo

Debut: Super Mario Bros.

Before I start this post, I’d like to clear something up. Podoboo? Yes, Podoboo! I’m well aware these enemies are often called Lava Bubbles and that’s the name Nintendo has been trying to make standardised these days, but you know what? You can’t make me! Podoboo is a lot cuter, plus its the name I grew up with and changes in society scare me and cause me to lash out! Maybe Lava Bubble is closer to the Japanese name of just “Bubble”, but since when has that been a factor in any of the localised names? Do you really want to refer as Lakitu as “Jugemu”, huh? I’ll have you know one of my civil rights as a citizen of Wet Dry World is to refer to Mario enemies with whichever official name I please. Like it or leave it!

So this is a post about Podoboo. Do you like Podoboo? I certainly Podo-do! They are perhaps the most generic design you could give to a Mario enemy, a visibly Dangerous Thing with two eyes, but they have always charmed me! It’s the little things, like their distinct shape and the fact their pupils are somewhat wider than most obstacles like this. They bring me comfort in dire times. No matter what happens, I know Podoboo will be there, jumping at a set height in a particular spot of lava! Without them I would be nothing!

So simple is their design, isn’t it weird to think they started off as even simpler? The Podoboos in the first SMB game are completely blind, and with no eyes they may as well not be creatures at all! Of course, I’m very glad they are creatures, and their iconic behaviour was there from the start! They love to jump, of course! There is nothing they would rather be doing!

Awaken! As of Super Mario World, they have been gifted sight and are no longer blind to the sins of this world! Hurray! What do you think they see as they jump up and down? I’m surprised it doesn’t make them dizzy!

You’ll be glad to hear Podoboos have had an expansive career ever since, now with their new trademark eyes! After all, they are THE lava enemy! Anywhere you’ve got that tasty hot fire juice, these guys are soon to follow! Here they are in Super Mario RPG, called Sparkies here because they couldn’t make up their minds on a localized name and probably because they confused them with Li’l Sparkies. In Yoshi’s Story they even called them Spark Spooks! Geez, I’ll even take the name Lava Bubble over this! But doesn’t this render look nice and juicy?

Though any great career has its flops, and I have to say... I am usually the first to campaign for the unique designs from the first three Paper Marios, but I do not really like this Lava Bubble! This takes away from their distinct Mario-y charm and makes them look like a Fire Enemy you could find in any other game! Though in the RPGs they are able to float around without needing any lava, the ones in Super Paper Mario act just like the platformer ones, jumping around despite not looking like they should be doing that! Ok!

The Podoboo from New Super Mario Bros. DS just wasn’t trying very hard at all. Come on! They could’ve it a bit more justice than this!

Ah, there we go! The Podoboos in New Super Mario Bros. Wii decided to finally stop messing about and go back to what everyone loved from them in Super Mario World. I encourage experimenting with your identity, of course, but it’s good to be back, and now they are more mortal than ever! A single shot from an Ice Flower is enough to instantly vaporize a Podoboo in a puff of smoke, which is a bit scary! Are they really just pure fireballs that can be put out just like that? What a frightening life to live!

And in Super Mario Galaxy 2, they... hey, wait!! You took away their eyes again! Now you are just being inconsiderate. This outraged me as a kid! One of my most vivid memories of playing this game with my brother involved chanting “Podoboo rights! They deserve eyes!” because this upset me so much. Maybe my past as an activist is why I am so passionate about Mario enemies these days... I think I was 100 percent correct in hindsight, and now you know some of my backstory, too!

What relief it gave me to find out they were back to their usual selves in 3D Land! And they have been ever since, of course getting redesigned for the modern Paper Mario games and everything.

What’s this? Blue Podoboos! Podo-blues, even...! They show up in 3D World, in its incredibly cool-looking blue lava levels! It’s a well known fact that blue fire is objectively cooler than red fire, and it seems even the Podoboos wanted in on the action! Blue Lava is an actual phenomenon I’ve just learnt, though it’s a sulfuric fire rather than lava. Could it be that Podoboos, being made entirely of lava, adapt to their environment? I’m not sure...

As an aside, the blue Lava Bubbles aren’t to be confused with Lava Bubble (Blue), which are from Mario Galaxy and show up during King Kaliente’s fight! They hop around on the ground and have square-ish eyes, which is enough to make them different I guess!

The Podoboo’s next big appearance, in Super Mario Odyssey, was in Soup! Yes you heard me- Soup! Some delightfully pepto-bismol pink coloured soup, no less. This is why I wasn’t too sure about Podoboo’s being able to adapt to their environment earlier- the Luncheon Kingdom is a big soup volcano after all, but the fact these Lava Bubbles are able to live in it is very interesting!

There is simply no way I would talk about Odyssey here without talking about possibly its greatest achievement, the best game design decision ever made! After decades of begging from fans, they finally did the impossible- they made Podoboo playable! Now it is Podo-you! It is quite unlike the other captures in the game, since it keeps the Podoboo’s simple-looking eyes and simply adds onto it a nose and a mustache! You may very well be the world’s first Podoboo with a sense of smell! I wonder if that is a benefit or not. The constant smell of soup might be a bit overpowering.

Not only is this delightful, but it gives us more insight into the life of the humble Podoboo. First of all is the fact that they can swim around in lava, not just jump in one spot! Do you think they do this when we aren’t looking? I really hope so! Imagine a school of Podoboos swimming through molten lava in a castle’s moat. How delightful!

The Luncheon Kingdom is also home to a number of Lava cannons, marked with a Podoboo’s lovely face. These are cannons for only for Podoboos to launch themselves across the kingdom, from one body of lava to another! My question is whether this was technology made by Podoboos themselves or whether it was made by some generous Podoboo lovers as some lava equivalent to the Fish Tube. I think I would take either explanation!

And last I have a Podoboo appearance that even I, the world’s biggest Podoboo fan, didn’t know about! Paper Mario Color Splash has a Big Lava Bubble boss which speaks with you through a Shy Guy translator! It is quite upset that you barged into its volcano and decided to change the temperature. Mario, of course, kills it anyway, and also the Shy Guy translator without a second thought.

Still, just take a look at this sprite sheet! How cute! A little disappointing that they thinned out the eyes, but wow! They more than make up for it with this range of expressions! An angry Podoboo! A sad Podoboo! And my personal favorite is of course the shocked Podoboo with its assymetrical dot eyes, which might be one of the best things I’ve ever seen.

To be honest, I could talk about Podoboo forever! If you didn’t stop me, I would go on all day about their every appearance, but I kind of had to limit myself to some of the most relevant ones. I just think they’re neat! And cute! And silly! Besides, I’m Mod F Boy, so I’m basically obliged to talk about fireballs with eyes! But for now I must bid you Pod-adieu!

...Not! What, did you really believe me? Well you clicked the Keep Reading button, so you only have yourself to blame for this. Here I am talking about more Lava Bubbles from all over, because Lava Bubble’s career has taken it BEYOND the Mario series! Wow!

Podoboo’s had quite a few appearance in the Zelda series, appearing in Link’s Awakening, both the Oracle games, and even Cadence of Hyrule! Their Zelda wiki page is still called Podoboo instead of Lava Bubble, which means those Zelda fans have it better than we do. But wow, this is a pretty angry looking Podoboo! I wouldn’t mess with them!

Both the Oracle games even had a Podoboo Tower! Amazing! They look quite a lot like a Fire Snake, but they are simply a tower of Podoboos! Why don’t they do this more often?

Hm... The Cadence of Hyrule one doesn’t have any eyes. Come on guys! It’s 2019! Podoboos having eyes should be standard! Though they still made the conscious decision to call them “Podoboos” in 2019, so I can’t be too mad.

And they have even spread to Minecraft! In the Mario Mash-up Pack, they replace the Magma Cube enemies, and really there was no better choice for this. And now we have a Podoboo Cube! What more could possibly be left for Podoboo?

The answer is obvious- Podoboo in real life! Thanks to a certain Lego Mario set, Podoboo is now real and can be in your home for the small price of 19,99 US dollars. Please give a Podoboo a home today! Just make sure you don’t own anything flammable.

#mario #mario enemies #podoboo #lava bubble #mod f boy

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

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Hi! So I would like to request a Seb x reader one shot if you have the time ☺️ I just got diagnosed with Endometriosis today and am in need of some soft Seb... Could you write smth where Seb finds out that reader is always in pain during sex and never said anything, though he knows she has Endometriosis and usually cares for her during her period... and he then encourages her to get surgery to try and fix it? Only if it's okay though, I know it's very precise, sorry!

A/N; I am so sorry to hear about this hun, i hope there’s something that can be done, no one deserves to go through that kind of pain. I researched endometriosis and it certainly sounds horrible, I’m sending you all my love and support 💙

Endometriosis - Sebastian Stan x reader

Masterlist Link

Summary; based on the request, I changed it a tiny bit so I hope that’s okay, I just feel like if r was in pain seb would notice, I hope you like it hun 🤍

Warnings; endometriosis, smut, oral sex (male and female receiving), 69ing, mentions of sex toys, illness, mention of alcohol, fluff, pain, swearing

divider by @firefly-graphics

It hurt like a bitch, there was no way to put it, or at least it was a simpler revelation of description at the prying of your womb had you near to tears. You laid your head down into the pillow, mushing it into the fabric, as you wanted the pain to dwindle down into nothing, and thus you tried to ignore your own suffering, as you turned over to be on your back, severely wincing by the change in position. A groan came from the other side of the bed, as the man that was laid there began to shuffle, in the midst of waking up.

“Morning.” He spoke with a hoarse voice, the steadiness obliterated by his blatant hangover that was haunting his form. Sebastian rubbed a hand over his eyes as he fully awoke, stretching his back as he reached his arm out, swiftly hooking it around the back of your neck as you allowed yourself to lay on the muscle. “Guess neither of us got laid, did we?” He laughed lightly, shaking his head, as he tipped his chin up, blinking his baby blues up to the ceiling.

“Considering that we’re in the same bed, and that you’re not a stranger to me, I guess not.” You laughed to your close friend, whom was aware of your condition, but not the extent of it. “Looks like you’re going to suffer from no morning sex Stan, I’m sure that sucks for you.”

“Usually it’s someone else doing the sucking.” You smacked his arm at his off handed comment, pulling a smirk out from the man as he turned to face you, pulling you closer by the contact that he had upon you. “I’m guessing your disappointed that you’re not waking up to some muscular, blonde haired and blue eyes patriotic punk.”

“If you’re describing Evans, i swear that I will punch you in the dick, I said he was attractive once.” You put emphasis on the amount of time(s) you had ever mentioned it. A pout quivered his lips, as he shuffled beneath the covers, angling his hips in a more comfortable position so that they weren’t being crunched down on the mattress.

“You can punch my dick, on the agreement that you kiss it better.” Seb allowed a hollow smirk to mull over his handsome features, as you swatted his bicep once more, an unhumored frown conforming its position upon your face.

“I’m not one of your hook ups, I’m not gonna get on my knees for you buddy.” You bantered back, raising a brow at his inquisition. No, you were not a past sexual partner of his; it was a constant of him never having a serious relationship, he opted for flings rather than any long engagements, you suspected that he had feelings for someone else, but you were not sure of whom.

The thought alone of him being endeared with the image of one woman brought a pain to your body, separate from your medical suffering. Though your opinion wasn’t fair, considering that you as well, or had your time of sleeping around before the pain in your inner walls became too much, and that was one of the many things that you had given up, more or less.

To support the montage of your body’s self torture, you had a mixture of hormone and tablets that helped reduce the unexplainable sensation that willed around in your lower half, swarming around like an internal snake bite in your own body.

“69 then?” He joked, but it felt so serious. You knew he wasn’t being truthful, it was the relationship the pair of you had, though his face had moved closer, his breath fanning over your face, making your heart prominently race as you thought about such a scenario. “Having mentioned Evans...” he began to change the conversation, having felt the heat that had radiated from your body.

“Go on.” You pried at him, interested in hearing what his friend had opted to say about the pair of you. It wasn't every day that you heard celebrities gossiping about you.

“He thinks we’ve hooked up.” Sebastian stated, making your neck reel slightly back as you took in the fact, of well, the perceived view point of a world renowned, household name, actor. A part of you was slightly embarrassed, you held your own cheek as the words that Chris had passed on sunk in on you.

“We, no, never. Okay, I’m exaggerating, that would not be so bad, but it would definitely be weird. But like, why does he think that, of all things?” You asked whilst partially laughing. It made you partially aware of yourself, and the prospect of you possibly having made your feelings obvious, but that however hadn’t been the case as Seb scratched over the stubble that he had on his chin, and did that awkward Bucky smile that had became humorous in his new marvel show.

“Of all things; it’s like you’re trying to break my heart babes.” With one diverging look from you, he knew he was done for. It always pained him to keep secrets from you, and this was the one that he had been hiding for so long. “You’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you? Okay, fine. I still can’t believe that you haven’t caught on, after all this time, but this just shows that you haven’t noticed how I try and scare away every guy with my money and power.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.” Lightly you scoffed, having many memories of such a situation. It was a pattern that kept repeating itself, but to you it had just become normal, and to say you were fine with it was not incorrect. It gave you hope that he could reciprocate the emotions that you held towards him, though having a wish like that was altogether hopeless. He was just protective, that was all, he probably saw you like a little sister, or something of the sort, that really put a drab annotation on the prospect of romance.

“Ever wonder why?” Ever, more like all the time, but you allowed him to continue without disruption, by doing so more would be unveiled by that mouth of his, and you were eager to learn more, yet a little hesitant. “It is because I am so tired of being your friend, I love it, don’t get me wrong but...” you were dreading what was to come out of his mouth next, you squeezed your eyes shut, almost as if you were unable to see, the pain would not render upon your specimen. “I love you.”

“You what?!” Eyes snapping open, you were blatantly shocked by his confession. “That can’t be right Seb, you’re you, and I’m me, and-“

“We’re us.” He finished for you. As he noticed you relax from his contingence, which allowed him the time gap to slide closer, his warm and soft hand running up the side of your face as he watched you gasp from the sensation. It was not the first time he had touched your cheek, but it was the first instance in which he done so intimately; you were rather fond of the treatment.

You nuzzled your face into the curve of his hand, your brows lightly directed in a downwards motion as you lulled in his touch, and that was when you realised that he had frozen. “Shit.” You stopped him from moving away, pausing the sadness in his eyes for the current second. “I should have responded, that was my bad. I love you too, I’m not just saying that, so you know.”

“That’s a relief.” Sebastian sighed, falling back onto the mattress, bringing his face accidentally closer to your own. The tips of your noses were touching as your eyes ogled deep within the pools of one another’s, it was impossible not to seek a closer vicinity, and thus, you slunk closer, bracing the tips of your nails against his scruff, as your lips worked their way onto his.

“How would you like another kind of relief?” You pulled away, stroking down the smooth course of his shirt covered chest, prompting a suggestive dialogue in your tone. His brow raised as he thought about it for a moment, but then he remembered a rather distinctive matter he didn’t want to cause any obstruction to.

“What about your, you know?” He was referring to your endometriosis, having the knowledge about the unfortunate illness that interfered with your life. Through it all, the doctors appointments, the encouraging you to take your medication on days that you weren’t feeling particularly well, he was there. Now it made sense why.

To reply, you softly shook your head, combing your hands over his shoulders, as you answered him. “If it gets too much, I’ll give you the signal.” You spoke, leaning down to peck his lips, though you still saw the reluctance that was embedded on his forehead in the form of strict lines. “I promise.” You persuaded him, meaning the sentiment, as his eyes trailed down, his hand scourging a fierce, passionate grip upon your hipbone as his tongue weaved its way back into your mouth.

You moaned into the atmosphere of his mouth, grabbing onto his cheeks as you heaved breaths into the internal beyond of this man, rolling on top of him, as you swept your crotch down against his own, extracting a sinister sound out of his guttural throat. It was only turning you on more, and you knew that if you didn’t do something, even despite the recommendations of your doctor, you would be sufficed with a lack of pleasure, and that was all you currently craved.

It wasn’t fair how you had been dubbed with the condition. So many people in the world could have sex whenever they pleased, yet you were forced to commend under the sentence of experiencing a discomfort when all you wanted was the comfort of being intwined with another human being. That connection, it felt mandatory, however you were denied it, for every time that you proceeded to bed a stranger, or a partner of any sorts, the stretch of anything in your walls pursued you with a fracture of pain.

You’d even had to throw out your vibrator, whilst it felt good on the outside, the clenching of your empty walls sparked physical and mental hurt, and reminded you of the fact that whenever you were filled by any length, your body could not function to emit pleasure, instead it was the opposite that you were tasked with contracting. The thought and reminder often spewed tears in your eyes, but you held them back as you got lost in Sebastian.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He admitted sentimentally, and your heart both became full and broken. It was sweet and scorching to the arousal between your legs to know that he was that concerned about your well being; he wasn’t just prioritising getting his dick wet. He resumed pressing succulent kisses on your lips, he lulled in the notion, he too wanted to be close to you, but he wasn’t willing to do inadvertently so to the expense of you being in pain.

That was the opposite of what he wanted, even as your hand wandered down his firm and pheromone driven body, that bucked in your grip, as your hand hooked around his bulge, your thumb stroking over his round sack as he grew beneath the layers of his soft sweats and underwear. “69 then?” You reiterated his earlier words, causing his pupils to blow wide, and his blue irises to darken into the juxtaposition of stormy skies.

“Will that be okay?” You confirmed it was, even if you weren’t completely sure yourself. The angles, the penetration, it was all elements, that combined gave you an equation that you had yet to figure out. The only way to do so was to try it, even if it concluded in an error, and not a sensible answer. To instigate the next step, you roused your sleep shirt from your body, leaving you in nothing more than your causal panties, but Seb didn’t seem to mind.

In fact he rather preferred the normalcy of your actions and undress, it made the strategy of shifting from friends to intimate lovers into one of relaxation, there was no absurdity nor discomfort yet, for either one of you. Your fingers dipped in the sides of your underwear, teasing the band, as you cocked your head towards Seb, licking your lips as you took in the view of him entranced by your being. “Am I going to be the one naked or...”

You were grateful that he took the hint, and stripped himself from both layers that kept his goods confined. He rapidly removed them, leaving his uncut cock open to your gaze; it wasn’t anything massive which was a relief, but it for now, it was to be attained in the confinement of your mouth, rather than the realm of your cunt, so that slight stretch could await. As you thought of that, you reached your hand out, dancing your fingers lightly over his shaft.

Seb emitted a soft huff from his obtainable lips, he dragged you to be laying atop of him, as your thighs surrounded his length on either side, it was warm, and rested perfectly below your where your cunt was hovering. How you wished to just sink down on it and- “Turn around.” For a moment you took time to refrain your memory to perceive what you had said before. And then, whence your words caught up to you, it was simple to do so, especially with the motivation of what was going to happen.

As you spun around, to be facing his lower half and have your own above his mouth, you watched his cock twitch, as it rested heavily upon his abdomen. You could feel your nerves kick in; it was a substantial difference from anything that you had ever done together, from looking at the stars and watching cheesy movies, to sexual actions, it was quite the leap. But a welcome one, you had waited so long to acknowledge your feelings to him, you'd be damned if you were not going to act on them.

A shiver rippled up your spine as he paved a lick through your slit, it made you tense up for a moment, and you try to register any diagnosis of pain, you coiled when he put one of your lips in his mouth. It felt good, which was a relief, and you took that as a sign to reap your front forwards, and focus on his throbbing hardness that was oozing precum against his perfect skin. The drop of essence looked like liquid moonstone, catching the ambience of the snooping sun that eyes through the crescent opening of the closed curtains, creating a luminescent light against the contrast of his skin.

Leaning forwards, as the initial shock of Seb using his tongue on you had settled in, as a faint plea from inside of you derived away in your eternal being, your tongue glided over the patch of fallen precum, your eyes fluttering at the heavenly, yet rare taste, it wasn’t every day that a man’s cum was relatively nice on your buds. Some perceived eating junk food as a lifestyle, caring not for how the receiver of their sperm would taste within the mouth of a giver on the other end. Sebastian hummed against your slick folds, as he danced his hands around your ass, grasping your cheeks firmly.

His fingers swept through the outside of your cunt, fooling around with your labia as his tongue swirled your bud, making your face grimace on the edge of pleasure, as your warm lips wrapped around the head of his cock, whirling your tongue within his slit, as your hand rested around the rest of his length, jerking it in your grasp, as his hips lightly heaved upwards against your face. He teased a finger around your entrance, running the tip along the wet flesh that mimicked your breaths as it clenched prosperously.

“Shit!” Tears webbed in your eyes as he entered the finger, though he considered that a resonating profanity of pleasure. To your dismay, it indeed was not though, the entry of the digit weighed heavy inside you, prying sorely against your walls as your giving to him paused, as you harshly gripped his thigh. “Shit, that hurts Seb. Fuck!” In an instant, he stopped, extracting his finger out from within you, as it caused you further pain, and helped you turn around, and lay languidly upon the bed.

“Oh my god, fuck, I’m so sorry y/n/n.” He panicked, immense guilt wavering his body, as he grasped your face, staring with sorrow into your seasoned expression. “I didn’t mean to- didn’t want to hurt you, shit, I should never have tried to-“ soothing his conflicting emotions, you stroked his shoulders, kissing him to ease his words into silence. He felt guilty, but so did you, you were the one whom had encouraged to pursue the rhythm of your shared sexuality to one another, deducting the poise of your actions with tear beaded eyes.

“It was my fault; I said it would be fine. I should have known it shouldn’t have, I’m sorry.” You reasoned with him, knowing that you had told him that it was to be something that you could manage, but from experience, you should have had better knowledge of how things would turn out.

“Don’t you ever apologise, you’re perfect, the only thing that I want to ease is your suffering. Is there any news on the operation that can be done, should I get you your medication now?” He wanted to be certain, to ensure that you didn’t put the accountability of your situation completely on yourself, he should have asked if a finger would have been fine, he shouldn’t have been swayed by your persuasion. “I could talk to someone, see if I could get the thing moved up, I can pay for it, get you further up on the ladder.”

“No.” You smiled, pressing an ample kiss upon his scruffy cheek. “I don’t want that, many other people are waiting for the op too, and I can’t have you paying for it. That would just be inconsiderate of me, you have already done so much for me, I can’t ask more. You’ve been there through everything, just wait with me whilst I wait for myself.” You pulled the sheets over your breasts, staring opulently into his serene eyes, shuddering as he swept his lips over your mouth once more, deriving you breathless for a moment.

“It’s okay to be selfish, if any of them had that chance, then they would take it. I can afford it, and I would want nothing more than to pay for it, it’s not just about sex, you know that. I love you so so much, you’re my best friend, the girl of my dreams, I’ve waited for you, I just want the pain that you live through to disappear. Out of all people, it’s not fair that it’s you, but it is, and this is the one way to fix the reductive searing of hurt that you live through.” You gulped, water glazing your irises as you stared at her, trying to diffuse your light sob.

His words brought acceptance to you within the scenario, as you took a deep breath in, confronting the trigger that had set off inside of you. It was difficult to handle and attain to, as you curled in his bare arms, exasperating your soundness close to him, as he competently cupped your face, kissing the tip of your nose. “Okay.” You agreed, nodding sincerely along with your words. “Okay, I’ll do it for me. It’s the right thing to do.” A smile raved his face, as you convinced yourself of doing so. It was to be a long road, but Sebastian would be there holding your hand, travelling down this path alongside you.

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capriciouswriter207 · 2 years

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Wither AU: Silence Sausage had no idea why he was nervous. He’d been the one to ask to see Rick, after all. He’d been asking for days now, and they were going to see him again – why did this make him so anxious? Maybe the circumstances of how he saved Rick made him nervous – how could he explain he knew Rick had been injured so badly? How had he known to bring the potions and pour them over the open wound? People would start asking questions for less. But Katherine said nothing, and Gem definitely said nothing, so Sausage didn’t say anything either. About a week or three after Rick was attacked, the doctors allowed him to have visitors. Gem and Sausage were brought to where he was being treated. On their way, they passed Mythland’s General, a woman named Sera, wearing traditional Mythland armor, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. She nodded respectfully at Sausage and addressed him as ‘your Majesty’ as a greeting, before swiftly moving on. Sausage watched her walk away – he’d never get used to that, ‘your Majesty’. It didn’t sit right with him. Especially because he and General Sera hadn’t had a formal conversation yet. That should follow in the coming days, if he remembered correctly. But this wasn’t about Sera. This was about Rick, who was finally ready to see Gem and Sausage. Rick sat in bed, the blankets covering his legs. He’d propped his pillow up against the wall so he could sit upright. Though he seemed exhausted, he’d been reading a book. The bandage around his throat didn’t look too comfortable, but he didn’t seem to mind. All cabinet spaces and surfaces were occupied with empty and full potion bottles and other medicines. Next to him, on the nightstand, a bundle of papers rested on top of a chalkboard. Rick lifted his head when he saw them and briefly raised his hand, in favor of waving, to greet them. He glanced one last time at the page number before he closed the book, grabbed the papers from his nightstand and gave his full attention to his visitors. But Rick was okay. Sort of. Sausage and Gem greeted him and wondered how he was doing. Rick handed the papers to Gem, who quickly read over them. Sausage read over her shoulder – useless, he didn’t know how to read common or any Overworld language. Gem’s face betrayed it couldn’t be good news. According to the doctor, Rick’s vocal cords had been damaged pretty badly. He would be able to produce some grunts and noises, but it might not be possible for him to speak again. Maybe short words, after years of intensive speech therapy, but no more longer words or complete sentences. fWhip had rendered him mute. And on other pages, Rick had written generic answers to the generic questions. I can go home soon; it doesn’t hurt, it’s just annoying; a Count doesn’t need his voice to be heard or to do his job; I have a chalkboard; Sausage saved my life. Gem had to read them all aloud for Sausage, who wouldn’t know what they said, as he couldn't read. They stayed for a while. Sausage and Gem talked and Rick would write answers on the chalk board, which Gem would read out loud. Rick would try to get some simpler messages across without the use of the chalk board, but some were hard to convey with just gestures, such as telling them he would still be the Count of the Grimlands and that they shouldn't worry, he'd be fine. He could have been dead, and that was significantly worse than being mute. After a while, Sausage and Gem were asked to leave so that Rick could rest. Rick called the doctor a buzzkill and waved Sausage and Gem goodbye, letting them know he liked that they came to visit him while he recovered here. When they’d exited the room and were alone again, Sausage wondered if Gem could teach him how to read. If he wanted to communicate with Rick in the future, he needed to know what Rick wrote down, and he didn’t want to have to rely on a translator all the time. Gem nodded and gave him a smile.

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#empires smp #wither au #mythicalsausage #geminitay #rick of the grimlands #he lives #but he's mute #sad #at least sausage now wants to learn to read

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Unfettered (aka NHS goes feral) - part 4 - previous parts: on ao3 or tumblr pt 1, pt 2, pt 3

Wei Wuxian wasn’t going to lie: it was weird seeing Nie Huaisang smiling again.

It wasn’t that he didn’t remember how Nie Huaisang used to behave when they were all back at the Cloud Recesses, and even before, but that seemed so long ago these days that it might as well have occurred in a past life. The expression just didn’t fit him anymore, like a grown man trying to return to the clothing of his childhood, and yet at the same time it was wretchedly familiar, even welcome – it was as if time had reversed course all at once, plucking them all out of the stream of their lives and returning them to how it used to be long before. Back to simpler, happier times.

It was kind of funny, actually.

Those that had not known Nie Huaisang as anything other than the Pallbearer seemed to be in a state of utter shock, gossiping madly – Did you see? He was smiling! He laughed at someone’s joke! He told a joke! He patted that child on the head and said ‘good job’ and the child didn’t cry even once!

Those that had known him from before only by reputation were, if anything, even more aghast – Do you think he’s going to start pouting and crying at things again? Surely not, I can’t even imagine! The last time he pouted was when one of his fans got stained, remember, after he stuck it straight through that man’s throat –

Those that had known him from before in person…

Well, the reaction was mixed. There was some relief, some distress, and a great deal of pain as they remembered once again how much their friend had changed in the wake of his brother’s near-death – the reminder of his former self was both nostalgic and bittersweet.

Personally, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were working through their feelings on the subject with the help of a lot of roleplaying involving their time at the Cloud Recesses. It was very healthy of them, emotionally, although maybe not so healthy for the state of Wei Wuxian’s waist. Or throat. Or hands…

(No, they weren’t officially married yet, since they were still hoping that they could have a proper ceremony when the war ended, but they were both of age and engaged. And that meant they could go to bed together, no matter what some of the more conservative Lan sect members thought – with Lan Qiren backing them up, which he did with no small amount of eye-rolling and deep sighs and long-suffering resignation, they were free to do as they pleased.)

That, too, was something they owed to Nie Huaisang.

Without Nie Huaisang’s timely intervention, both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng would’ve fallen for the Jin sect’s instigation and turned against each other in an act of mutual destruction that harmed both of them, and everyone else besides. Jiang Cheng would have cut off his own right arm, voluntarily weakening his sect just at the moment when they needed strength the most, and rendered himself without any other choice but to be dependent on Lanling Jin, while Wei Wuxian would have remained trapped in the Burial Mounds in Yiling, getting called the Yiling Patriarch as some people still today did, growing ever more resentful at his isolation and poverty.

(That one uncomfortable month he’d spent arguing with Wen Qing and Wen Ning about whether they should try to grow radishes or potatoes had been very educational, especially since they were both not-so-secretly convinced that the argument was futile and that nothing would ever grow on the Burial Mounds, such that they were just whiling away time until they all starved to death.)

They would be scattered, weakened, unhappy and vulnerable. Wei Wuxian would be sitting there like a giant target until the Jin sect decided, in their leisure, to deal with him the way, in hindsight, they had so obviously always intended to.

Wei Wuxian would have missed his sister’s wedding, probably. He might even have missed Jiang Yanli’s widowing, and the consequences of that were unthinkable.

If Wei Wuxian hadn’t brought the Wen sect back with him to the Lotus Pier as a result of Jiang Cheng’s defiance of the cultivation world’s criticism, Wen Qing and Jiang Yanli would never had the chance to hit it off the way they had, becoming fast friends. If they hadn’t been friends, Wen Qing wouldn’t have been visiting Jinlin Tower to check up on her good friend when the news of Jin Zixuan’s death had first spread.

His murder, rather – Wei Wuxian wasn’t terribly clear on the details, but it wasn’t really necessary. Jin Guangshan had pressed his legitimate son’s filial piety to the breaking point in his pursuit of power, and finally he must have done something to go too far, to cause there to be a real break between them. Jin Zixuan must have made clear that he would not play along, no matter what, and by that point Jin Guangshan already knew there was Jin Guangyao waiting in the sidelines to step up and take his place. There was no other way it could have gone, simply because there was no other reason for both Jin Zixuan and his mother to so conveniently die on the very same day.

If it hadn’t been for Nie Huaisang convincing Jiang Cheng, Wen Qing wouldn’t have been there. Wen Qing wouldn’t have been available to be bold and decisive, the way she was with her medicine; she wouldn’t have been able to persuade Jiang Yanli of the possibility of danger and then to smuggler out of Jinlin Tower and take her on the run in disguise, long before it occurred to anyone else that there might be some threat to her – that the Jin sect might decide to hold her hostage, or worse.

Definitely worse. If Jin Guangyao had had the chance to figure out what only Wen Qing had known back then – that Jiang Yanli, barely more than a newlywed, already carried the next heir to Lanling Jin within her belly…

Jin Guangyao’s ambitions would never have let Jin Zixuan live, a fact they’d all only realized in horrible helpless hindsight, but if Wen Qing had been trapped in Yiling with Wei Wuxian at the time, instead of visiting Lanling, then Jiang Yanli…

Wei Wuxian didn’t even want to think of it.

So, really, it was only fair that Nie Huaisang, who had whether intentionally or incidentally saved so many of them these past few years, finally, finally get what he’d been dreaming of all these years: his brother’s return.

It was only fair that he be allowed to return to being happy.

And yet, at the same time –

“You need to go talk to him,” Jiang Cheng said. His arms would be crossed in front of his chest if he wasn’t currently holding a sleeping Jin Ling, who’d had something of a fright upon meeting the new and improved Nie Huaisang. The poor kid had been convinced that his habitually bitter and vicious Second Uncle Nie was possessed by some sort of fierce but bizarrely friendly ghost. “There’s a war on, for fuck’s sake. He can’t spend all his time haunting the Unclean Realm trying to pretend that he’s something he’s not in order to keep his brother from finding out that he’s changed!”

“It’s not as bad as all that,” Wei Wuxian objected. “I mean, Nie Huaisang’s always run most of the war through correspondence, anyway, and it’s not like we’re totally helpless without him to boss us around.”

“His absence hasn’t been noted by our enemies just yet,” Wen Ning murmured. His arms were similarly full with Wen Yuan – a little older than his friends, steadier and more mature, but a sympathetic crier, and spending a month of his childhood in the Burial Mounds made him more susceptible to fears of possession, not less, so he’d been set off by Jin Ling. And seeing them both in tears had, of course, made poor level-headed Jin Rusong, who didn’t cry easily at all, panic and try to help in a way that only made it worse; Xiao Xingchen had swept him away to the kitchen, and the two of them were currently making snacks for the other two when they woke up. “But it will be, soon. They are already puzzled by the change in tactics.”

Wen Ning’s voice was as soft as ever, his stutter subdued only by the fact that he was with company he liked, but his tone brooked no argument – he’d changed a lot since their youth, too, and knew more intimately than most how some things could not be undone.

The Jin sect, not content with merely killing him, had dubbed his resurrected self ‘the Ghost General’ in an attempt to incite the cultivation world into hating and fearing him. It had been a lie back then, when he’d been doing nothing more than planting radish seeds and babysitting, but now Wen Ning was a general in truth, the leader of their archers and one of Nie Huaisang’s right hands. He was still shy, still didn’t speak fluently and probably never would, but Nie Huaisang had assigned him several capable deputies who understood him even when he had to resort to the type of hand-signs used by the deaf or in covert situations. He was surprisingly popular with the cultivators on their side of the war, although Wei Wuxian acknowledged that perhaps his popularity shouldn’t be that much of a surprise: there was a certain morale-boosting effect in seeing your general continuing to fight even after being struck with enough arrows to create a porcupine.

“Being puzzled by a change in tactics is fairly run of the mill for any enemy facing Nie Huaisang,” Wei Wuxian pointed out.

“Which is why they haven’t noticed it yet, Wei-gongzi. But eventually…”

Wei Wuxian grimaced. “Is it really that dire?”

“Not yet,” Lan Wangji said ominously, and – fine. If even Lan Wangji thought that someone should talk to Nie Huaisang, Wei Wuxian would go and talk to him.

After all, they were old friends of long acquaintance.

Very long, even.

“I come bearing terms of peace,” Wei Wuxian announced, walking into Nie Huaisang’s study and waving a few jars of wine at him. “Come negotiate with me, Nie-xiong!”

“I don’t recall giving you permission to barge into my room,” Nie Huaisang said without looking up from his correspondence, a little flash of the vicious Pallbearer they’d all grown painfully accustomed to – he had his family’s temper but a cooler head, with rage that burned low and long rather than flaring up hot and burning out.

Wei Wuxian reflected once more on how apt Nie Huaisang’s personal title was. The foolish thought that it referred to the filial piety he showed in mourning the brother that raised him since childhood, the somewhat wiser to the way the attack on Nie Mingjue had forced Nie Huaisang to find the virtue he had previously lacked, but the really smart ones knew that the most accurate interpretation was that those that Nie Huaisang chose to accompany to their end would ultimately find themselves without any path forward but death.

Nie Huaisang’s cultivation was still nothing special, his ability to fight virtually non-existent beyond the most basic of saber forms – a saber he now carried with him often enough, but still almost never used – and he’d rejected Wei Wuxian’s very innovative idea (if he did say so himself) that he try to train with a war fan, both on the basis of it being both too much effort and furthermore thoroughly lacking in aesthetic. As a result, he had no particularly notable talents, and none that could allow him to triumph in a night-hunt or a duel.

It didn’t make him any less terrifying.

“You’ll forgive me,” Wei Wuxian said flippantly, and sat down next to him, looking at the words that filled the page with Nie Huaisang’s lovely, artistic calligraphy. “More spy stuff?”

Nie Huaisang’s lips curled up into a small smirk. “Naturally. The network never sleeps, as you well know. I assume you’ve been sent to scold me about the war?”

“Amazing,” Wei Wuxian said, and nudged him in the side with his elbow. “It’s almost like you have a brain in your head or something. Since you’ve guessed it, I don’t even know what more I need to say…how’s Chifeng-zun doing?”

That got Nie Huaisang’s face to soften, as he’d hoped it would. “Much better. He’s been sleeping and waking consistently, and the mobility exercises are working well, though of course he’s insisting on trying more than he can manage. He only just managed to walk across the room without stumbling yesterday, had to sit down right away after, and he’s already asking about saber training.”

That was very in character for Nie Mingjue.

“I’m glad,” Wei Wuxian said, meaning it with all his heart. “I missed da-ge.”

He owed him so much, after all.

So much more than most people knew.

It had been Nie Mingjue who had found him all those years ago, in the dark days when his parents had died in a night-hunt gone wrong and the money they’d left with the innkeeper turning out to be insufficient to keep him housed or fed for more than a fortnight. Wei Wuxian had been a spoiled, beloved child – even if his parents were rogue cultivators, his father originally a servant, they were famous; there wasn’t a town that didn’t welcome them with open arms. They had never lacked for money, for warmth and comfort.

Wei Wuxian might have had a chance if they’d died in the spring or summer. He might have been able to learn to sleep on the streets during warm nights and used those rich fat months to learn from all the other beggars how to eat refuse, but his parents had died in the winter. Even the beggars chased him away, unwilling to spare the smallest scrap of food or lose any bit of warmth by sharing the spots they had found to shelter from the cold; and when he went to the richer districts that had once greeted his parents with such enthusiasm, wild dogs were sent to chase him away, vicious and merciless…within a week, he had been very nearly dead.

Luckily, when hiring rogue cultivators turned out to be insufficient to deal with the problem, the miserly local landlord that had sent out the notice in the first place had finally given in and written to a Great Sect, begging for aid – as a rich man, he was obligated to contribute to the costs of a requested night-hunt, and the Great Sects, while generally more successful, were typically far more mercenary in that regard than rogue cultivators – and Nie Mingjue had come with his Nie sect, the most willing by far to do the work of defeating evil without charging too much for the privilege.

He’d found the bodies of Wei Wuxian’s parents.

Soon after, he’d found Wei Wuxian himself.

Wei Wuxian had been about seven, then. It had been a full two years before Jiang Fengmian had found him on the very same streets, hiding in the trash with a dirty face and a sad and miserable expression, ready to be picked up and taken home by his father’s old friend, the Sect Leader of Yunmeng Jiang.

Just as anyone might’ve predicted.

After all, Nie Mingjue had never stinted on sending out spies, even if he never used them.

(He’d released Wei Wuxian of all those old obligations long ago – but Nie Huaisang never had.)

“Da-ge passes along his thanks, by the way,” Nie Huaisang said. “He thinks the array you created to help preserve his life is brilliant.”

“It is brilliant,” Wei Wuxian said, shameless as always. Getting a truly vicious scolding from his little master Nie Huaisang about exactly how close to the line his arrogance had brought him and the Wen sect had humbled him a bit, and the disaster of the Stygian Tiger Seal nearly going out of his control at the Nightless City not long thereafter had humbled him still more, but in the end he was still Wei Wuxian. He was awesome. “Could anyone else have done what I did?”

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes.

“He’s not angry at me for misusing Baxia?” Wei Wuxian asked, fishing for confirmation. If there was one thing that his two years in the Nie sect had taught him, it was a near-pathological revulsion at the thought of touching another person’s spiritual weapon – he’d been very nearly more excited to be allowed to put his hand on an unsheathed Bichen than Lan Wangji’s dick, although not quite – and Nie Mingjue was quite justifiably more paranoid than most on the subject.

Even that treacherous dog Jin Guangyao hadn’t dared touch Baxia. The spiritual poison he’d used on Nie Mingjue had been limited to the man himself, and that had been what gave Wei Wuxian the idea for the array he’d invented. Nie Mingjue cultivated with Baxia as his primary, if not only, spiritual weapon, and the disciples of the Nie sect were closer to their sabers than most – and by the end of the Sunshot Campaign, Baxia was a fearsome entity in her own right, possessed of her own spiritual energy.

And as he’d always said, energy was meant to be used.

There was something about the Nie sect’s cultivation style that reminded Wei Wuxian of his innovations in demonic cultivation, although it wasn’t quite the same. They didn’t manipulate resentful energy directly the way he did, but they still made use of it, refining their blades with it until the sabers were very nearly guai, cultivating saber spirits filled with a lust for blood – although the strict disciplines of the Nie sect cultivation path meant that every saber spirit that Wei Wuxian had ever had the fortune (or misfortune) to personally encounter just as absolutist in their disdain for evil as their masters.

Even Nie Huaisang’s saber Aituan was like that, and maybe that should have been Wei Wuxian’s first hint that Nie Huaisang wasn’t as simple as he appeared on the surface.

“It’s fine,” Nie Huaisang assured him. “Really. Da-ge said it was – how’d he put it – a charming contradiction, that his saber get used to cultivating energy for him rather than him for the saber. Though maybe he was just relieved that she was intact, given everything.”

Wei Wuxian grinned and toasted Nie Huaisang, drinking a little of the wine while Nie Huaisang continued with his correspondence.

They sat in comfortable silence for a little while.

“I’m not pretending,” Nie Huaisang said abruptly, and Wei Wuxian, who’d drifted off into daydreams involving him, Lan Wangji, and a very sturdy bathtub, turned to look at him. “I know what Jiang Cheng thinks –”

“Of course you do. I tell you what Jiang Cheng thinks.”

“Shut up, you – you calamity. I don’t need you to tell me what Jiang Cheng thinks, he tells me himself more often than not. He thinks that I’m pretending to be useless because I don’t want da-ge to know about everything I’ve done, but that’s not the case at all. He knows. I wouldn’t keep it from him.”

“I know,” Wei Wuxian said, because he did. Even at his most lazy and self-indulgent, Nie Huaisang abhorred the thought of lying to his brother. “But you are spending too much of your time in the Unclean Realm. We need you back in the field.”

Nie Huaisang scowled. “The cream of the cultivation world,” he said disdainfully. “Can’t they do anything by themselves, just for a few short months? You’d think my brother fought the entirety of the Sunshot Campaign by himself with how little they seem to contribute.”

“Personally, I think that everyone has just taken the Nie sect as lucky cats, and are afraid to do without you,” Wei Wuxian said, batting his eyelashes at him in his most provoking show of earnestness. “Nie-xiong, if I rub your head, does that mean I’ll win my next battle…?”

“Don’t you dare,” Nie Huaisang said, but the scowl receded and he looked amused again. “I can’t wait to send da-ge out on the battlefield again.”

“The Jin sect will trample each other in their eagerness to get off the battlefield rather than face Chifeng-zun,” Wei Wuxian agreed, and couldn’t help his own smile at the thought. “The rumors that he’s returned have already started spreading like wildfire, but you’ve done well to hide him away so thoroughly. It means no one knows if the rumors are right or if you’re just pulling some kind of trick on the world.”

“Who, me? A trick?” Nie Huaisang said, and smiled thinly. “I only wish I could’ve seen the look on that treacherous dog’s face when his spies reported on my unusual behavior. I hope he’s afraid.”

Wei Wuxian agreed.

He had tried many times to imagine doing what Jin Guangyao had done. To turn your hand against the man to whom you had sworn to love as a brother –

He couldn’t even imagine hurting Jiang Cheng like that, and Jiang Yanli even less.

Wei Wuxian owed Nie Mingjue his life. He had sworn fealty to him with all the passion and singlemindedness of childhood, and had never once regretted it. Nie Mingjue had taken him off the streets and brought him back to his sect, he’d taken back his parents’ bodies and buried them with full (if private) honors, he’d given Wei Wuxian training to make him strong and smart and capable. He’d sent him to do work in a place where he would prosper and thrive and be happy, and all the while promised that he would never be trapped – that he would have a way out if the Jiang sect became too suffocating or he was treated too viciously, on one hand, and on the other told him that he could one day petition to be released from his obligations to the Nie sect if he ever found them too demanding.

Wei Wuxian had asked to be released from those obligations after the fall of the Lotus Pier, unable to stomach the idea of reporting on Jiang Cheng now that he was all alone in the world in the way that he had so effortlessly reported on Jiang Fengmian and Madame Yu. Nie Mingjue had granted the reprieve without a second’s hesitation, even though it meant wasting the years and years of investment they’d put into him, even though it would have been a critical moment to have an ear within the Jiang sect’s camp.

Wei Wuxian owed Nie Mingjue everything.

And yet – if the man had asked him to kill Jiang Cheng, he would have said no.

Twin heroes, he’d promised Jiang Cheng, and if for a while he’d thought he would have to give up that promise because of the secret of the golden core that he still kept hidden away, he refused to think it any longer. Jiang Cheng was his brother in all but blood, in all the ways that mattered. Wei Wuxian would stand aside from him if he thought he had to, as he had with the Wen sect remnants; he would keep secrets from him, he would even deceive him, but he would never willingly seek to hurt him.

Jin Guangyao, though? He had attacked Nie Mingjue without even being asked.

He was like some rabid beast, a white-eyed wolf, Wei Wuxian thought. Utterly beyond his understanding.

He deserved to be afraid.

“Speaking of which,” he said, suddenly remembering. “I think I’ve figured out why Jin Guangyao was willing to kill his own heir to further his and his father’s ambitions.”

“About time,” Nie Huaisang said, and while his tone was stern Wei Wuxian was mostly sure that he was teasing. “I put you on that job months ago. What do you think I keep you around for? Your brilliant inventions? Your armies of corpses? Your amazing ability to stun irritating sect leaders into silence with your overwhelming shamelessness regarding Lan Wangji –”

“Let’s not talk about that,” Wei Wuxian said hastily, although the giant grin he couldn’t keep off his face said everything about his shame – or lack thereof – relating to that last one. You get caught doing one little roleplay about the fearsome demonic cultivator Yiling Patriarch being arrested by the righteous cultivator Hanguang-jun and suddenly no one wanted to look you in the eye anymore… “Anyway, according to all the rumors, you keep me around because you want me to raise your brother the way I raised Wen Ning.”

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes. “I’ve heard that one, and I still can’t believe anyone believes it. Da-ge’s a sect leader! Even if you wanted to bring him back, think about the amount of resentment he would have had to feel at his death to rise up again despite all the soul-calming rituals he’s gone through! If he ever became that resentful, he wouldn’t rise up as a ghost general, he’d be a ghost king, and then we’d all be screwed.”

Nie Huaisang wasn’t wrong. Nie Mingjue was one of the most powerful cultivators living – if he rose as a fierce corpse, he’d be able to slaughter an entire village of common people overnight with just the energy in one hand. And if he were then allowed access to Baxia, her power added to his…he’d become a scourge on the world, a true calamity, and they’d need to find a way to appease his anger and somehow lock him away forever just to survive.

Assuming Nie Huaisang allowed something like that, anyway. Wei Wuxian was very happy they had never been forced to face the question of whether Nie Huaisang preferred his brother or his morality, as he suspected no one would like the answer to that. Not even Nie Huaisang.

“Enough speculation,” Nie Huaisang said, and Wei Wuxian twitched guiltily even though he knew Nie Huaisang was not, in fact, a mind-reader. “What’s the story with A-Song?”

“You want the long version with all the proof I found to support it or the conclusion?”

“Start with the conclusion.”

“Jin Guangyao couldn’t risk A-Song growing up into a half-wit on account of being a child of incest.”

That actually surprised Nie Huaisang, Wei Wuxian was pleased to see.

“Incest?” Nie Huaisang said wonderingly. “But how – oh, of course. Jin Guangshan and Madame Qin? An affair or rape?”

“Rape while he was drunk, supposedly, though of course we only have the relevant people’s words for that, and they’re not exactly impartial sources. Could’ve been an affair that had unexpected results, not that anyone would ever admit it.”

Nie Huaisang started laughing.

Wei Wuxian really wished he wouldn’t. It wasn’t the sort of happy giggle that he sometimes let out nowadays when he was thinking of Nie Mingjue’s recovery – it was the jagged vicious bitterness of the Pallbearer, through and through.

“Oh, Qin Su, Qin Su,” Nie Huaisang said, wiping tears from his eyes. “I gave you all the chances in the world, you stupid woman. I hope you’re happy with what you chose.”

“Can I ask?” Wei Wuxian said cautiously. “You never said – you just showed up with A-Song, no Qin Su and no explanation…”

“Says the person who adopted A-Yuan all but sight unseen?”

“I lived with him for a month, it’s different,” Wei Wuxian said. “What happened with Qin Su?”

Nie Huaisang shrugged. “Nothing dramatic. She wouldn’t believe me when I told her that her husband was planning on killing her son to frame his enemies, which is reasonable enough given that everyone knows I’m at odds with him. Even when I offered her proof, she said it was just a forgery – that he wasn’t like that, that she knew him, the real him, that she was the only one who really understood him, even though I’d say the whole cultivation world knows the ‘real’ him by now.”

“Irritating, but understandable, I think – he is her husband, the dashing hero that rescued her so valiantly in the Sunshot Campaign and which she defied custom and her parents to marry. So why all the disdain?”

Nie Huaisang’s lips pressed together tightly with disapproval. “I asked her if she was willing to risk losing A-Song just to show her husband that she trusted him, and she said that she was, because it wasn’t a risk at all. Because she knew he loved her too much to do such a terrible thing without a good reason.”

“Without a good reason?” Wei Wuxian demanded. “That’s her son!”

“Don’t you know that they can always have others?” Nie Huaisang said with a sneer, clearly paraphrasing words he’d heard. “They’re young, in love – it’s all my fault that he stopped touching her, apparently. I took Lan Xichen away from him and he’s so upset about it that he can’t come to her bed, but once the world is rid of me, it’ll all go back to the way it should be…”

“I’ll give her that much: she really loves him,” Wei Wuxian said, shaking his head. The delusions of a person in love, he supposed. He hoped that he and Lan Wangji weren’t quite that bad. “She’ll be in for a disappointment. Given what I found out…he’ll never return to her bed or give her children, not in this lifetime.”

“No, he won’t.” Nie Huaisang reached for his fan. “Thank you for this. I’ll think about how to use it.”

“And?” Wei Wuxian prodded.

“And I’ll come back to the battlefield,” Nie Huaisang conceded, looking discontented, and Wei Wuxian smiled smugly. “You can supervise the Unclean Realm in my place.”

“What? No!” Wei Wuxian protested, his smile disappearing at once. “You have Xiao Xingchen –”

“He’s newly blinded, and out of all the cultivators we have available, you’re the most effective at fighting on a stand-alone basis. Think of it as having some time to bond with your mother’s shidi.”

Wei Wuxian didn’t want time to bond with his martial uncle – or, well, he did, he’d been dying for an opportunity to talk with Xiao Xingchen more or less since the man first made his name known in the cultivation world, but Nie Huaisang’s rules were such that no one outside the most trusted inner circles of the Nie sect was allowed in the familial quarters of the Unclean Realm, or even in the Unclean Realm at all. And that meant…

“But – Lan Wangji –”

“Will not die if he’s forced to be abstinent for a little while,” Nie Huaisang said, and oh, it was on.

“Did Qin Su specify the method by which you took Lan Xichen from her husband?” Wei Wuxian asked, crossing his arms. “I was under the impression that you still referred to him as Zewu-jun –”

Nie Huaisang glared.

Too bad – if the Pallbearer didn’t want to get mocked over his crush on the First Jade of Lan, he shouldn’t have let Wei Wuxian find out about the fact that the torch he held for him was still burning hot as ever.

“Perhaps my information is out of date. Tell me, little master, what means of seduction did you employ to convince Zewu-jun to betray his poor sad little A-Yao? Did you work your wicked wiles on him?”

“Wei Wuxian –”

“Did you play his xiao?”

Nie Huaisang let out an ungentlemanly snort and had to cover his face. “Oh no,” he said. “Oh no. Why did you have to give me that mental image? Fuck you, Wei Wuxian.”

“Yeah, well, fuck you too. Abstinent my ass.”

“I think you’ll find that the problem with abstinence is that it’s not your ass,” Nie Huaisang said, shoulders shaking. “That’s kind of the point. Now go tell everyone that I’ll be rejoining them tomorrow.”

“I will relish their groans of despair,” Wei Wuxian said, standing up. He was clearly going to have to take as much advantage that he could of the little time he had with Lan Wangji before being cruelly locked away. “Oh, is there any news on Song Lan?”

“None,” Nie Huaisang said. “He may as well have ascended into the heavens. Don’t tell Xiao Xingchen, he’ll only worry.”

“I won’t, I won’t. As for you – could you try to lighten up on Zewu-jun? Now that da-ge’s awake again?”

Nie Huaisang frowned.

“I’m not saying forgive him,” Wei Wuxian clarified. “Just – you know that da-ge wouldn’t want you to be so mad at him, especially since you still like him and all.”

“I’ll let da-ge decide that, I think,” Nie Huaisang said, and the humor had fled his face entirely. “It was his assassin that Zewu-jun decided to trust and protect, after all.”

Wei Wuxian nodded, accepting the verdict – he disagreed, but he understood – and turning to leave.

He paused at the door.

“Just so you know,” he said, not looking at Nie Huaisang. “Having trusted Meng Yao doesn’t mean you have to be so mad at yourself, either.”

He left before Nie Huaisnag could respond, but he heard something shatter in the room behind him.

#mdzs #wei wuxian #lan wangji #nie huaisang #jiang cheng #wen ning #my fic #my fics #unfettered

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nautiscarader · 3 years

Note

Marichat 1

Smutember day 1 - Strip Poker, Marichat (ML)

(Ao3)

With apologies to anyone, who knows how to play poker.

Also I hope you will apprciate all the ice puns. You will soon see why.

What killed the dinosaurs? THE ICE AGE

===========

At this point, Marinette thought she'd be used to having a boyfriend with a slightly unusual method of dropping by. She heard the scratching on the trapdoor, and when she opened it, she was welcomed with an upside-down face of her feline companion.

With his trademark agility he indeed dropped in, landing on all fours and jumped back up, his tail coiling around her waist to bring her into his arms.

- Quite a bold move, kitty. - she smiled. - Well, you know me. - How did you know I'd be free tonight, though? College is forcing me to stay a lot in the libraries, even in the evening... I was about to hit the hay... - she pointed to her rather skimpy clothing. - I guess it was a bluff.

His hands slid up and down her thighs, while her legs gently parted his. It was true, her university did embark a toll on her private life, giving the two way less time to spend together.

And as the two were about to kiss, a word from him gave Marinette an idea.

- How about strip poker? - Marinette asked, raising her eyebrow - If you think your bluff game is so strong... - Sounds like a slightly more complicated way of getting you out your clothes, princess... - Chat replied cockily.

Marinette gave him a gentle kiss and jumped onto her back. She straightened the sheets, took the deck, shuffled it, and shot Chat with a smile.

- I assume an alley cat like you-you know how to play poker? - she added with just a tinge of hesitation. - Ah, of course - he replied with a similar moment of worry - Were you thinking of some other, simpler game? - Well...

Marinette began, and she lost control of her deck, temporarily scattering cards all over her laps.

- There-there is this card mini game in this, uh, app game called Mister... - Penguino! - Chat finished, and coughed, sounding a bit too excited - I heard, I mean. We can, uh play that simplified version, just to humour you. - Yeah, I mean, even pros need a break once in a while.

The two shared a long, silent connection, as Marinette shuffled and dealt the cards. She hid her face behind them, wishing she could have seen the tooltips that automatically suggested the desired highest combo...

She sneaked a quick look at Chat, but she was used to him hiding his thoughts, and it seemed for once he might have an upper hand, or claw...

She repositioned a few cards, and with a firm move, she put two of them down, sending her opponent a faint smile.

- I've got... one pair of snowshoes! - and she proudly uncovered two queens. Chat smiled back. - Guess I've invited you to ice-skate ring for a date.

And revealed four cards from his hand.

- Two pairs.

Marinette's smile faded, and knowing he wouldn't look away, she undid her ponytails, tossing away her hair ties.

- Come on, that barely counts as clothing. - Chat protested. - Be glad I undid them both at the time. - she smiled and took more cards.

This time, the pause did not last as long, as Marinette didn't even wait for Chat.

- Four of a kindle! - Eh, pass.

And with that, Marinette watched as he ditched his gloves. After a few ties, her winning streak returned, as she got a regular Strait, followed by Icy Strait, much to Chat's surprise.

- In hindsight, I should have thought this through, wearing one-piece outfit isn't the best strategy...

Marinette just nodded, watching as he lost his shoes and Chat Noir-themed socks. And she had to restrain herself from giggling when she looked at her next hand.

- Full Igloo! in your face!

Chat Noir swallowed, and knowing that she will watch every move of his slowly pulled down the golden bell, revealing his lean, but muscular chest, and, as he let his costume fell to the floor, Marinette's eyes fixated on his...

- Boxers!? - Marinette protested - What? - they were bundled with socks - And he pointed to his pawprints his boxers were dotted with.

Marinette grumbled. It seemed her luck has ran out temporarily. Two Snowmen and one Ho-Ho later, she found herself without her jacket and pants. She suddenly found herself wished she had worn socks...

But then, with a triumphant smile, she laid down five cards down.

- Slushy Strait.

She spoke, looking at four cards Chat put down that were nowhere close to topping hers.

And with a faint smile, Chat stood up and reached to his boxers, where a faint trace of his erection was visible. Marinette bit her lip, and watched as the dark material slides down, until his biology performed an admirable jolt, when his cock sprung to life once he was freed.

- Well, looks like you've won. - Chat sat down, and was about to shuffle the cards back when Marinette stopped him. - Not yet. You still have your mask.

Adrien swallowed loudly, as Marinette's smile widened to an almost Cheshire-cat length.

- My... My princess... - Deal the cards. - she cut him off quickly, trying not to have her mind clouded with the image of his cock.

But the smile faded away equally quickly. Next turn forced Marinette to take her top, and in two more, she found herself whether to choose her bra, or her panties, which have revealed her readiness already. And knowing that, she opted for them, hoping the sight of her sex would throw her opponent off.

Chat smiled, watching as Marinette lifted her legs into the air and undid her panties, pretending to hide her puffy lips from him, when in reality she made sure that her night lamp would show a few droplets of her arousal.

The two stared at each other and reached for more cards. This time, her face remained frozen and motionless, and she put down five cards.

Chat Noir, with equally stoic demeanour, did the same.

At the same time, they both revealed them.

- Icy Slushy Strait! - Marinette howled - Finally, I will know the identity of my boyfriend... - Five of a kindle. - What?!

Marinette watched, as Chat flipped each card, one ace at a time, finishing with a comedic depiction of a medieval jester.

She looked up, unable to believe his luck. Instead of any explanation, she just saw a glimmer in his green eyes.

She reached her hand behind her back and undid her bra, rendering her completely naked, while Chat licked his lips at the sight of her breasts.

- Can we stop pretending? - Yeah, I guess.

Marinette grumbled, and she welcomed the feeling of his lips on hers, as he jumped onto her, pinning her naked body to her comfy bed.

But he wasn't interested in immobilising her, as Chat was clearly drawn to her sex, now positively glistening with her juices, and a single lick of his made Marinette howl, as her legs flailed around his head.

Chat drove her insane for a couple of minutes, knowing she wasn't even trying to hide her oncoming climax. The feeling of his fingers, instead of claws brought a much needed comfort and tenderness to his foreplay, especially when he traced her clit.

And just as with the final hand, this one brought Marinette to her loss. She buried her face in a pillow, while she soaked her lover with her arousal, thrashing around him, much yo his pleasure.

Adrien thought she would remain like that for long, but her shaking arms were soon around his neck, as she brought him onto her.

She let out a moan under his pleasant, heavenly weight, but when his aggressive behaviour drove him between her legs, she had to stop him.

- Ah, ah, ah - Marinette spoke, as Chat looked at her, stumped - Forgot about something?

She reached to her nightstand, and to his surprise, she produced a condom in a black package depicting a handsome man with green eyes and cat ears, clearly from the same set as his underwear.

- I feel I should file for copyright claim. - They make ones with Ladybug as well... - Marinette added with a mixture of annoyance and odd bit of pride in her voice - I know we were stripping down, but this will suit you.

She let out a giggle when his cock twitched in her hand, as she coiled her fingers around him and slid the condom on, feeing each of his vein under her fingertips.

- Sorry kitty, but I'm not ready for your kittens yet... maybe next month...

She joked and gasped, as Chat positioned himself between her legs, feeling his tip brushed her wet opening.

Spoiled by his delicate treatment before, it was time for Chat to utilise his pent-up energy, as he slid inside her with ease, earning another languorous moan from his lover, as she dug her nails into his back.

With each thrust, she spilled his name into his ear, feeling his cock spreading and tearing her in half, as buried himself deeper and deeper.

- Chat... Chat... Chaton!

She knew he was on the edge of his climax too, brought by their shared taunting, and though she preferred long, slow love-making, she would gladly welcome another "little death", as it was called in her language.

She listened to his guttural, low groans, and when his back arched, so did hers, almost as if to give him chance to reach her depths, while he filled his condom with seed, and her ears with her name.

The two joined bodies pulsed and shuddered, as Chat delivered his potency into the rubber, her body milking him for more in a futile attempts at executive the biological imperative Marinette protected herself from.

Their groans and moans subsided, as their lips met, and with that, the gentle creaking of the bed stopped as well, replaced by smacking sound of their hungry mouths.

- Well, looks like I won, Chat huffed, lifting himself from his position, marvelling at the sight of Marinette's slightly sweaty body and her ruffled hair. - Are-are you sure?

Marinette's lips curled in a cocky smile and she showed him her hand, holding four aces and a joker she must have picked up when they were basking in their shared afterglow.

- But... - But what kitty? Look, my sleeves are empty - she raised her arms to mock him further - My princess, that's cheating! - All's fair in love and war - she spoke without missing a beat - Your mask, Chaton

Cold sweat rushed down his spine, strengthened by her piercing gaze and a sly smile. For quite a while neither of them spoke, each fixated at their partner's face.

- Although, I can accept this as alternative.

Marinette spoke and grabbed his cock, sliding underneath it, until it hovered over her face. Her fingers pinched the tip of the condom, filed with his seed and she stuck her tongue out, waiting for her reward as she slid it from his length.

Inch by inch, as Marinette disrobed her lover, globs of his potent spunk landed in her mouth, guided by her skilled tongue that traced his undercock, causing him to shudder and twitch.

And even after the condom was off, Marinette squeezed it to ensure that none of his hard and tasty work would be wasted, letting out loud and unabashed sounds of satisfaction as she tasted her salty treat, making sure to not look away from Chat's enamoured face.

Despite being disrobed, Marinette won, proudly wearing a smile and his cum on her face.

- That... that was quite a move, Marinette. - Chat admitted and bowed gently, sneaking a kiss to her ankle, as he helped her collect her clothes. - Always pleasure to win with someone, who knows how to lose. - she giggled in return. - Next time you will be the one begging for mercy. - Oh, I sure hope so.

Marinette raised her arms and put her wrists next to the headboard of her bed, as if she was tied. She watched, as his cock twitched again through his latex clothes.

- Oh, and by the way... I'd still win. - he said as he climber up - I still had my tail.

He closed the door, and only after a while Marinette let out a gasp when she realised how his tail could have been attached to his naked body once he got out of his suit...

#marichat #smutember #day 1 #miraculust #lemon #mlnsfw #nautiscaraderfics #smutember 2021 #smutember2021

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linkspooky · 4 years

Text

Eren and Historia

Eren and Historia have a connection to one another. No, I don’t think they are romantically connect, nor do I believe they are co-conspirators plotting to destroy the world together. However, the narrative is pushing the idea that Eren and HIstoria are somehow connected and continually pushing them next to each other. Eren kissing Historia’s ring is the trigger for his vision that commits him to the path of destroying the world. Eren uses Historia as a reason to accelerate his plan. Eren confides his plan solely in Historia. The reason this line is drawn between the two characters is that they are CHARACTER FOILS. Eren and Historia are two people who seem like opposites but they’re actually incredibly similiar to one another. Almost too similiar to ever et along. The extreme similarities between Eren and Historia, and their character foiling underneath the cut.

1. Historia’s Regression

So I’ve gotten countless asks on my opinion of Historia’s behavior in the final arc. My opinion is that we’re being shown the result of her regression to her pre-uprising arc self. Is this the best writing choice for Historia’s character? I do not know. There are two schools of literary analysis that boil down to “Is the writing good?” or “what is the author trying to say?” and I much prefer to stick to the latter. I think the text is attempting to portray Historia regressing on her character arc, and as a person to mirror Eren’s own regression.

Everybody is regressing in the final arc. Armin lets his poor self-esteem sabotage his decision making ability like he did in Trost. Mikasa is struggling to find a way to live without Eren and see herself as a person seperate from Eren because of her codependent nature, once again like Trost. Annie wants to pretend that this all has nothing to do with her, like in the female titan arc. Hange can’t make a decision without Erwin around and wants to leave it all up to him even though he’s literally dead. The characters in the final arc are written as still struggling with what we think they should have gotten over with in earlier arcs. Heck, Jean still beats up Reiner over what happened to Marco.

It’s not because after all this time the characters haven’t progressed in their character arcs at all. It’s because the story structure of Attack on Titan is chiastic. The beginning and the end are written to mirror each other.

Chiastic structure, or chiastic pattern, is a literary technique in narrative motifs and other textual passages. An example of chiastic structure would be two ideas, A and B, together with variants A' and B', being presented as A,B,B',A'.

Sometimes instead of character development being a straight journey from point A to point B, it’s instead more like a helicopter hovering around the point, continually circling it. The character has brief moments of revelation where you think they’ve had their big change only to regress later. Lemme use this example from Tokyo Ghoul to illustrate my idea.

A character seems to be progressing, and we believe they are, only to regress in the end. I think narratively there is a very strong reason for Isayama using this style of character development. Every single major character is either a child soldier right now just barely on the cusp of adulthood, or they like Levi were child soldiers at one point or another. The adults, few that they are, are all either cast as incapable of acting as strong decisive role models (Hange) or are killed off eventually (Erwin).

It’s like what Magath expresses in his final words, these children were never allowed to have a normal life because of him. If the narrative is about the evils of using child soldiers on both sides, both the Scouting Corps and Marleyans, then it would make sense that every single character is portrayed as either a child unable to grow up or an adult that has continually failed them.

What we are being shown is every major character with an arc struggling with being unable to truly grow past who they were as children. Even when given the oppurtunity to grow, they falter with it, because they are child soldiers stunted by their trauma and that’s not an easy thing to overcome. Rather than a straight line we’re shown a circular process. Gabi and Falco are the only characters being shown with fully straight line arcs, but they are also far simpler than the other characters because they are children, and not stunted adults acting like children. Armin is passive, day dreaming, indecisive like he was when he was a child. Mikasa is overly attached to Eren like she was when she was a child. Heck, even Connie’s major flawed decision this arc is wanting his mother to return. Whcih is a symbol of wanting to return to the safety of childhood that he was suddenly and abruptly cut off from.

Okay, that was a long tangent but I hope I have made my point on what I mean by regression. Eren and Historia are paralleled with each other because they more than anyone else, are regressing to their childhood selves. Where we see at least hints of progress with other characters (Armin, MIkasa, Jean) indication that they will eventually rise to the responsibility of adulthood we see only stagnation for these two characters. It’s because once again Eren and Historia are incredibly similiar as people. Heck, even the fact that they’re regressing the most is paralleled. The same chapter in which Eren declares he’s using the child Ymir’s power to destroy the world, we’re shown a flashback of Historia first and foremost.

Eren empathizes with little girl Ymir, and Historia was told as a child that she should learn to be like Ymir, always kind and always putting others first. They both see themselves in Ymir and it symbolizes why they are connected, because deep down they are both that powerless little child.

There are two big connections between Eren and Historia immediately. Number one is that the inciting incident of their trauma is the same. Yes, Historia grew up in a household where she was eteranlly bullied and belittled where Eren grew up fairly love and secured but they both suffer from the same traumatic incident.

A titan suddenly killed the person who was the symbol of unconditional love and security in their lives, for Eren it was his mother, and for Historia her older sister. In a situaiton where they were completely powerless, they watched a titan kill their security and destroy their home and are rendered homeless children after that point. They both join the titan corps as a way of survival. The reason that Eren is shown encouraging his father to pull the trigger and completely eliminate the Reiss family, is because narratively these two events are supposed to be connected. They’re narrative parallels. Eren suffered the loss of his mother which is the root of his trauma, and then has a hand in inflicting that same trauma on Historia.

They are two people connected by the nature of their worst trauma and what it did to them. Every time they try to progress as people, they instead regress because what happened then was so fundamanetally damaging it robbed them of the ability to be able to grow up. They will never feel like they have the security that children need in order to grow into adults.

Historia and Eren are mirror images even in their lives. Eren is an ordinary child given an ordinary childhood. Historia was marked as different from birth and raised as a special person. However, they ended up in relatively the same position. They both regress. The nature of Eren’s regression should be obvious because he’s trying to destroy the world. In essence Eren has remained the same character all throughout, his primary goal was to kill all the titans beyond the walls, it’s just his target that has changed.

So, let’s focus instead of how Historia has regressed. I will say before I begin though that Eren and Historia regress as opposites. Eren will always choose to be active, even if it means stealing agency from others. Historia will always choose to be passive, even if she has power over others. When they are pushed into a corner by circumstances they fall back on their worst habits and that’s why we see them regress. Externally, they have different mechanisms to handle it. Eren steals agency, Historia gives up agency. Internally, it’s practically for the same reason, because whatever security they have is continually ripped away from them leaving them unable to grow as people.

So what is Historia’s regression? Basically Historia, like Eren is lacking of a sense of self. Historia has no consistency deep down to show who she is. Even with most of the other characters as childish as they can be have this, Mikasa is overprotective and likes family, Armin is a dreamer who wants to explore the world, Annie is self centered and wants a peaceful life. Eren even comments about this in regards to himself when comparing himself to Eren. Eren centers himself around violence, war, and his hatred. Armin has something else besides fighting, in order to build himself around. Therefore, Eren considers himself lacking as a person in comparison to Armin. Who would Eren be if he wasn’t trying to destroy all the titans? That’s a difficult question to answer.

Historia is much the same way. Historia builds herself and her self of identity around the roles that other people ask her to play. The little girl Ymir is kind because she always did what others ask of her. Historia is always performing some role for the sake of everybody around her.

I wouldn’t say that Historia’s arc in Uprising ends on a triumphant note, but rather an ambiguous one. The arcs aren’t lines, they’re circular. Historia even questions herself if she’s moving for the sake of herself or others.

Here is how I see uprising. Your interpretation might differ. Historia steps out of the role of Krista. Historia, tries to be herself for a moment. At the end of the arc, rather than true liberation Historia chooses to step back into the role of queen. The only slight progress made is that she doesn’t entirely listen to Erwin’s orders. However, even her act of slaying a titan within the wall was a pre-planend action, a performance. It’s just one Historia altered slightly to give herself a more centered role.

If Historia is not someone moving to help others than who is she? We know she’s spunky, angry, etc. etc. but as a character she hasn’t really developed goals or wants and needs outside of that. We continually see her on the brink of that point, but never quite crossing the line.

Eren and Historia are at the center of their existence very performative people. The reason nobody quite understands Eren is that he’s always putting on an act around other people.

Eren and HIstoria even doubt the same things in chapter 68. That is to say, they doubt themselves. They doubt if they are really truly people who are capable of moving for themselves. Eren sees himself as someone who has nothing special about him, and therefore doesn’t matter. Deep down he’s always viewed himself as a weak and pathetic person. Historia doesn’t think she’s capable of making decisions for herself. It’s because they’ve been continually made to feel helpless all of their lives, that they doubt themselves to this degree.

Their response to this is to perform for everyody else around them. Eren si continually performing as this super strong, determined child ready to fight the whole world. Whereas, Historia is performing in the roles that other people give her. She is Krista Lenz. She is the queen Historia Reiss. She is, always, always, always, what other people need her to be. Whereas, Eren performs what he wants to be, which is powerful.

When Historia and Eren break down it is shown just how deeply similiar they are inside. They become what they continually are made to feel like, helpless children. Eren is constantly boasting about how he is going to kill all the titans, and yet deep down he’s always believed that he was all talk and that for him there was nothing behind those words.

It’s the same for Historia just in an opposite direction. Historia is constantly talking about helping people, but deep down she doesn’t see herself as a genuinely altruistic person. Not only does she see herself as helpless (therefore incapable of helping people because she can’t help herself) but she sees her motivations for helping people as selfish.

In the Uprising arc we even see this parallel. I mean I know many people interpret this as Historia’s big moment of independence, which is also a valid interpretation. I’m just giving you my interpretation. I also see this as Historia having a massive mental breakdown in the middle of a crisis moment. When they are pushed to their absolute limits and they can no longer pretend, Historia and Eren both break down and we see what they view themselves as. Eren sees himself as a crying and begging child insignificant, unpowerful, and helpless. Historia sees herself as a selfish child and a bad person. This is also something that reflects their upbringing. Historia was continually made to feel selfish due to being an abused bastard, for wanting even the most basic necessities a child needs like love and security. Eren had his security ripped away suddenly when his mother died and he was at the time, a helpless, crying child only able to watch.

When Eren breaks down he says the same thing always. Nothing has changed from back then. Nothing has changed from when I saw my mother died. When Historia breaks down she says she can’t live up to the expectations of other people around her.

Eren and Historia both see themselves as fundamentally unable to change from who they were as children, and that’s why we see them regressing to their most childlike selves here in this final arc.

2. What is the point of Uprising Arc, then?

I know I read uprising differently from most of the people on this site. However, I’m not saying that Historia didn’t grow in Uprising at all, or even that she doesn’t have a chance to grow. Honestly, I think Uprising does a good job at portraying the complexity of Historia’s character and why it’s really, really hard for her to grow in a straightforward manner. She’s not really the heroine of the story where she defeats the bad guy, and then overcomes her flaw in a dramatic fashion at the end of the arc.

Okay, so I’m going to try to address how Historia’s arc is still... you know, an arc, even though it doesn’t continue on in a straightforward fashion from Uprising. Uprising isn’t pointless because it shows us the great depth and complexity of HIstoria’s character, and also establishes why it is so hard for her to change. It’s not a straightforward arc, more of a dig into her psyche. Historia steps out of the role, Historia tries to be true self for a moment, Historia steps into another role at the end of the arc. It may seem pointless to read it this way, but I’m going to try to dig in from this point forward to show the complexity that this demonstrates.

So, like I said Historia is a character who lacks a sense of self. The reason that Eren perceives this of her so strongly that it’s what forges their friendship in this arc is because Eren is the same way.

Eren picks up on the fact that Historia was always striving to meet the expectations of everyone around her, because Eren is very much the same person. The kill all the titans thing is an act. Everyone around him believes it to such an extent that not a single person, even his closest childhood friends understood him enough until it was too late.

Eren also tells Historia he sees her as a normal girl, because it’s who Eren wants to be accepted as, but feels like he never can be. Before I go into uprising itself there’s the big inciting events for both of them that lead into where their characters are in the lead up to Uprising.

Eren and Historia both have a moment with their respective love interests in the prelude to this arc. Historia begs Ymir to come back with her so they can both live on as themselves. Mikasa tells Eren that he doesn’t need to be able to defeat titans, that what he did for her was showing her the small kindness of wrapping her scarf around him that day was enough for her.

It’s Mikasa and Historia who reach out, but Ymir and Eren both refuse that closeness. Eren chooses to fight, and Ymir chooses to sacrifice herself to Reiner and Bertolt.

I know a lot of people take issue with this writing choice, but sorry this post isn’t about the quality of the writing, just how it all comes together in the big picture. The point is, Historia and Eren are both offered what they have always wanted which is to live as themselves with a person who loves them for who they are only for it to get them taken away.

There’s also an interesting irony written in Ymir’s death. Historia has always idealized the path of a martyr. She always thought living a good, selfless, altruistic life is what would earn her the love of her sister.

Part of the problem is, the only source of love both Eren and Historia has was taken away so suddenly. Historia got the idea in her head, that all love was conditional and she had to act good in order to earn that love because love was never freely given to her. So Historia’s martyr act is a way to earn love. However, Ymir’s choice inflicts upon Historia the pain other people feel when she decides to martyr herself.

The path of the martyr isn’t a good one, it’s thorny, and wracked with pain. What Ymir does is a genuine act of altruism. She makes a choice out of sympathy for both Reiner and Bertolt who have suffered all their lives just like her, and also a belief her sacrifice will buy something for HIstoria in the bigger picture. It’s at least partially an altruistic decision, and Historia’s not happy about it at all, she’s downright bitter. Because, Historia isn’t the altruist deep down inside she pretends to be. Historia idealizes self sacrifice and selflessness, but when faced with the harsh reality and consequences of such behavior she realizes this is not what she wants.

Ymir’s death throws the narrative Historia has always held onto into question, because she’s now the victim of somebody else’s self sacrifice. By killing herself, Ymir has also deprived Historia of her place in the world. Which sends her into self doubt. This moment of reflection is once again where we see the real Historia.

Eren calls out the fact that Historia is actually very selfish. When she’s not performing goodness, most of her worries and actions are centered around herself. Everyone is out risking her lives, and Historia is kind of busy like “Who am I? Why won’t people love me for the real me?” These questions are selfish because they are focused and centered around the self. Historia is, egocentric in the way a child is, and the way that Eren is, because she doesn’t have a fully developed self.

Uprising is where we’re shown very clearly that rather than having a centralized sense of self, a goal to focus herself around, all of these things normal characters have Historia is someone who wildly swings between two.

Historia is indecisive on whether or not Krista or Historia constitutes the real her. There is the act that Historia portrays on the surface as someone who always worries about others, and then her history (Gosh, golly gee I wonder why her real name is Historia... obvious symbolism is obvious). The question for HIstoria is which one she should let efine her, is she defined by the trauma she accumulated by being born into this world, or the person she wants to be. Historia’s failure to reconcile herself between the two extremes is what results in her behavior, as swinging back and forth between both.

I don’t believe that the point of uprising is to show Historia finally reconciling these two, but rather to show her wildly swinging between the two. HIstoria is someone who wildly swings between great feats of selfishness and selflessness.

We are given several hints of Historia’s progress in this arc, but also several unhealthy signs of her back sliding. For exmaple there’s the scene where Levi infamously bullies Historia into calling herself the queen. One this scene fundamentally demosntrates what Historia’s problem is, she can’t make decisions or act for herself because she doesn’t really know what she wants.

And when Levi beats her up and pushes her, she decides to perform again. Now the question is if you see the final climactic scene of Uprising as her triumphantly overcoming this cycle or falling back into it. My interpretation is that it portrays the swinging between.

HIstoria, confronted with the feelings of insecurity she’s had since childhood unable to feel consistently loved or that she was even worthy of love is about to fall back on her mechanism of total and complete selflessness. Believing that her self sacrifice will at least mean she was a good person that meant something to the world, that her self sacrifice will earn her something. The reason that Eren yells I’M NOT NECESSARY is it’s because what their trauma made them feel like, and deep down what they’re afraid of hearing.

Historia first appears entirely passive and selfless, then she takes an active role and screams she’s the worst girl on earth and she’d rather let the whole world die than sacrifice one person. Her response isn’t to reconcile these two entirely divergent selves, but rather we’re being shown her flipping between them.

Historia declares one moment she doesn’t care about the rest of the world they can all die, and the next moment she says that if there’s a crying child she will always help. What we see is not a reconciliation so much but rather a flipping between, because it’s Historia’s tendency to swing back and forth between the two.

Here’s my defense of my point. Uprising ends on an ambiguous note. As I’ve said above uprising doesn’t end on Historia becoming her full realized self, but rather wondering if she’s become her full realized self.

Not only that but everything that seems like it was forward progress initially in uprising becomes undone later. Erwin is freed in Uprising, Erwin dies the next arc. Eren says he doesn’t need to become a special person to change the world, Eren is back on his bullshit by the time skip. The uprising puts the good guys in charge of the government and so now the government is no longer an obstacle to the path of saving humanity. The Jaegerists come take over in a second uprising, and the government becomes an obstacle once more. Even the decision they made to never feed Historia to a titan in order to sacrifice the world, is something the main characters go back on as they debate on whether or not to have her eat Zeke. Everything that seems like it’s forward progress becomes undone.

So why would Historia’s arc not become undone, too? This isn’t a question of quality of the writing. If you think this is a bad writing decisoin you’re completely valid I just am trying to remind you this isn’t the place to have that discussion. The deicsion to regress however, portrays the conflicts the characters are dealing with as cyclical ones. My argument is that as a whole Attack on Titan is being written as a cyclical story where characters circle.

Eren and Historia are just the two biggest contenders of this regression. Which is why we see them conspiring together in this the final arc. (Yes there is a problem with Historia being mainly offscreened) however narratively the decisions we are shown Historia making in this arc are all passive ones. Also ones meant to pacify the people around her.

Eren will always choose to be the activest character he possibly can, and to take agency even if it means stealing it from others. Historia will always choose to be passive, and will give up agency even if it means people steal things away from her.

We are kept mostly out of Historia’s head. We are also kept mostly out of Eren’s head. What we are being shown recently though is a continuation of what we witnessed in uprising. Uprising ended with the question of if Historia is Krista Lenz, or Historia Reiss unresolved.

This scene is Eren browbeating Historia into submission so she’ll go along with this plan. However, for HIstoria it’s also a confrontation with both sides of herself that she has shown to other people. Eren is basically telling HIstoria there are two wildly different hers, there is the Historia who would sacrifice herself, and the Historia who would say fuck the entire world she’s not sacrificing herself even if it makes herself the enemy of humanity.

My argument is that the story has gone to great length to portray that to some extent, both of these HIstorias are real. Historia is someone who swings between wild feats of selfness and selfishness. Historia can say both of these things and mean them, that she wants to sacrifice herself for the sake of the world, fuck the world she wants to be herself.

The same way Eren can imprison his friends, tell Mikasa she’s a slave, tell Armin he’s useless and that he’s despised both of them always, and also believes that he’s doing all of this for the love of his friends. Eren can say both and mean both, because he also does this inconsistent swinging back and forth.

The foiling between the two of them shows how utterly broken Eren and Historia are as people due to the neglect they faced as children. It’s not actually a question of whether they are good or bad people. (Though Eren, is a jerk). It’s to show how unhealthy these mechanisms are. They mechanisms they rely on to survive, do not allow them to grow or develop all the way as people so they remain stunted. Historia is still in an incredibly unhealthy and precarious position in regards to her identity. Eren’s mechanism is to take agency, Historia’s is to give it up, the result however is the same between the both of them.

We see Historia make a choice. In all fairness we don’t know what that choice is. However, we also know what she didn’t choose. She knew what Eren was going to run off and do, and what he was planning, and she didn’t stop him.

Another important part of the final arc is showing how everybody else’s decisions also led to Eren doing what he did. Armin’s choice to never confront Eren’s real self turned him into Eren’s enabler. Mikasa’s inability to try to live without Eren, made her completely unable to see this coming. The scout corps in general was unable to stop Eren, because they didn’t understand him. Historia also made a choice to enable the situation to happen in some way, because she didn’t choose to just... tell somebody else what Eren was planning, or stop it.

While yes, she may be trying to stop it all on her own. It’s still a choice she made that’s frighteningly similiar to the choices Eren has been making all along. That is the choice not to trust people, the choice not to openly communicate what she inteded, the choice to instead go off on her own and try to solve everything by herself.

That’s also the choice she always makes when backed up against a wall, and therefore it’s a sign of regression. I don’t think Historia is conspiring with Eren or even agrees with him. However, I do think she has made a similiar choice as Eren which is to try and attempt to solve everything on her own without trusting the others which is why we’re seeing her get so much foiling with Eren in this the final arc.

Historia will overcome this regression when rather than swinging between Historia Reiss, and Krista Lenz, that she is both, and always has been both. You are who you are deep down inside. You are also who you pretend to be. The choice to show Historia’s wavering between makes her arc longer, difficult, more frustrating, but it also shows how hard it is for Historia.

It shows the struggle of someone like Historia with lifelong trauma. How hard it is for her, not to be a queen, or a good girl. How fundamentally, it’s difficult for her to even juts be a normal person. And how in the end that’s what she is fighting for, to rediscover herself as a normal girl once more after being denied that by the environment around her her entire life. Historia too, can be a normal girl in the face of all that trauma.

#historia reiss #eren jaeger #aot meta #attack on titan #attack on titan meta #attack on titan theory #eren meta

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