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hanasnx · 1 year

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❝ how he learned to kiss. ❞

── aotc!anakin skywalker x reader

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 5k SUMMARY: coaxing anakin to spill the story on how he got so good at kissing as a virgin before he even met you, he relays a story of his youth. NOTES: i had to make up a girl name so this character isnt in star wars and her only significance is for the sake of storytelling im so sorry if it offends u. this is still an x reader mainly WARNINGS: everyone aged up, f!reader, slight corruption kink from reader, established relationship, no smut but explicit content— allusion to blowjob, f!c persistence, slight friendship toxicity— being young they’re still navigating vulnerable sexual conversations and dont realize how their actions can impact the other which means there’s a teeny baby amount of angst, allusions to other sexual acts but no actual explicit work, implied smut at the end between reader & anakin

You sighed into the kiss, your arms wrapped lazily around ANAKIN SKYWALKER's neck. He pressed your back further into the counter, his passion shining through in his impatience to access your mouth with his tongue. When you allow it, and he slides his against yours in a pleasing way, you involuntarily whimper. Something about Anakin and his talented mouth never failed to relax you after it riled you up. Your head tilted, deepening the kiss, one of Anakin’s hands moved from your waist to the back of your head, refusing to let you back up so he could explore your mouth fully.

You made a noise, and he clutched you with fervor for a second, slacking to give you air to breathe. When he detached a string of saliva connected your lips, and you panted. The Jedi trailed his mouth down your jaw to your neck in open mouthed kisses. The tingles soothed you, lulling your head as he made out with your favorite spot there, drawing sweet sounds from you.

“Ani, how’d you get to be so good at this?” you purred, eyes falling shut. The back of your head still cradled in his large hand as he lovingly caressed your skin with his lips and tongue, able to feel your pulse.

“Hm?” he hummed against you, vibrating you. It sent chills down your spine, so limp it was a mystery how he was holding you up.

“I love kissing you, you’ve always been good at it,” you replied, breathlessly explaining in between hisses of pleasure when his teeth graze you.

“That’s what you want to talk about right now?” his tone betrayed amusement, his warm breath washing over you as he spoke. He lapped the red marks he left in his wake.

“We haven’t talked about who we’ve been with before, and I know you said you were a virgin when we first… um,”

“Had intercourse,” he finished for you, and it sucked the romance out of it.

“Yes,” you responded in haste, hoping to keep the momentum going. “You were still really good at kissing then, I can only assume you had—“ His hand on your waist had traveled up to palm your breast, at the same time biting into your shoulder. The pain mixed with pleasure made you keen, interrupting your own sentence.

Once more, Anakin ended it for you, “Practice?”

You nod the best you can. As soon as you’d pondered the question, that’s what you could think about, instead of responding to your lover’s advances. Arrested in mid motion, Anakin remains where you leave him when you push off him, and hop up onto the counter. “I wanna hear about the practice you’ve had.” You clasped your hands in your lap, grinning at him. Even sitting up on the counter he was about as tall as you.

Anakin slacked, furrowing his brows as he met your gaze. “Right now?” he confirmed again.

“Yeah, I’m curious,” It was an innocent curiosity, and you could postpone escalating these events until after his story. “C’mon, I wanna know,”

He shifted his weight to one hip, resting his fists against the edge of the counter to cage you in as his eyes searched his surroundings, jogging his own memory.

Now, Anakin wasn’t proud of what he’d done in his past. A sort of gray area to him, and one he rarely reminisced on because of an air of shame. If he’d had it his way, he wouldn’t have kissed anyone at all before you. It was in his nature to desire to save every bit of himself for you, like he did with his virginity. However, you were no guarantee to him, and he’d happened upon you by chance. If only he’d known he’d meet you, he never would’ve strayed from his path of devotion. Faithfulness was an unspoken rule for him, regardless of you and his “friends with benefits” relationship, his commitment to you was unwavering.

“My first kiss came as a surprise,” he said under his breath, like it was a secret. His eyes did not meet yours until he spoke again, “There was a young lady, alone, who’d gotten mixed up with someone in lower Coruscant, if I believe correctly.” You listened intently, hand coming to toy with the ends of your hair to fidget. “I don’t remember exactly how it happened, I only remember scaring her opponent off. I was young, and without Master Kenobi, and had been there merely to pick up some restored scripts when I passed by her. She kissed me as a thank you,” He moistened his lips. “It was hurried— a peck. I didn’t even know her name, I don’t remember what she looked like. It was long before you and I met.” Anakin waited for you to react, to tell him he was wrong for it.

Before you even responded, you couldn’t help but swoon over how cute it must’ve been. You’d met Anakin when he was this tall, gangly, sandy-blond haired boy. Awkward for the most part, an innocence that you didn’t realize was virginity ‘til later. He had that padawan rat-tail you wanted to tug to annoy him. You could only imagine that was the boy that was kissed when he saved the stranger. Only when you were reintroduced to Anakin had he grown his hair out a bit, matured and gave off a powerful aura of intensity. That’s when the two of you had started this journey together.

“That’s nice, right? Did you not want to be kissed?” you questioned, and your nonchalance on the matter made him rethink his ashamed mindset on it. He idled, and your hand came to brush his curls from his face.

“It was fine. Perhaps it was an accident, maybe she aimed for my cheek and I turned. I don’t recall.”

“So you felt neutral about it,” you stated, ensuring that nothing was forced upon him.

“It was a surprise,” he reiterated. “However, the act did instill me with a certain confidence.”

That came as no shock to you, and you broke out into a grin. “Oh, yeah?”

That newfound confidence had gone straight to Anakin’s head. Now aware that he registered as a sexual being to others, he wanted to drag reactions out of them. To be the center of attention, to be the cause of someone else’s awakening, to make someone feel special. Growing up alongside Obi Wan— whose charming nature did more for him than most— meant Anakin could see how his Master received things in response to his flirtatiousness. It was a skill Anakin now desired to learn.

The pure padawan experimented with those around him. At the temple, Anakin had noticed a group of girls (younger than him by only a couple years) staring at him, and he realized this to be an opportunity for him. He smiled good-naturedly, nodded, and offered a minute wave. It caused the girls to shyly look away and giggle amongst themselves, covering their blushing faces. To witness the effect he had on his admirers, was a reaction he became addicted to.

He was not the smoothest by any means, but he found that acting on his impulses went surprisingly well. Being completely virtuous meant he had limits to what he knew to do, but he noted that he was far more successful with positive reactions with underclassmen. He adored the attention. Especially if his reputation grew as someone who knew more than he actually did. How could he believe it was wrong if his master called on the skill so casually in conversation? To flatter was second nature for Obi Wan Kenobi.

And so it was for his padawan searching for what he so desperately craved. Validation.

This personification of a confident, experienced, charming scoundrel was a character Anakin quickly fell into. He clawed at the chance to come off as arrogant and in charge. Like a landslide, Anakin had broken away from the “odd, and coddled boy under the private tutelage of his Master”, spoken about behind his back for being brought to the Jedi Order as an exception and did not attend standard Academy. He felt like he fit in.

Largely, he avoided his own age group but after practicing with the classes under him, he’d moved on to the girls his age in the temple.

There was one in particular, Vella Torpoli, who was his same age. They’d known of each other, worked on certain missions together as fellow peacekeepers and padawans. Her master and his often paired together, and Vella was so invasive as is— she was the perfect candidate.

It began small, a joke here, a glance there. However, she remained convictionless, and Anakin sought to capture her attention in an undivided way. Subtleties would do him no good, especially because he was unskilled in them. During the basic training remotes test, Anakin circled her as she worked, and made his intentions known. “Lookin’ pretty good out there, Torp,” The affectionate nickname was disliked by Vella, but she ignored it.

“Always do, Skywalker,” she replied curtly, spinning her saber behind her back to deflect a shot from a stray remote. Anakin had to admit, she made these sessions look easy.

“You think you could handle a real challenge?” he questioned, stopping to stand outside of the circle and she faced him.

“What? Like you?” she scoffed, and remained on guard against her floating opponents.

“Oh, no,” Anakin bowed his head with a chuckle. Using what he knew of Vella against her, he appealed to her ego. “You couldn’t handle a guy like me, Torp,” He gazed at her through his brows, gauging her reaction. Judging from the way she jutted her chin, tongued the inside of her cheek as she deflected blasts… he’d been successful.

The thought of dragging the young Anakin Skywalker to the broom closet crossed Vella’s mind as she fought off the last of her bots. Wary to celebrate yet, he patiently listened for her response.

“Couldn’t I?”

Anakin couldn’t believe that worked, smiling to himself as Vella pushed him into a supply closet and locked the door from the inside. He let her take the lead, since she was so comfortable in doing so. Fisting her hands in his robes, she tugged him to her, meeting their lips in heated contact.

Vella had a soft spot for Anakin, one that flared up when he finally decided to flirt with her. A solely physical attraction that could now be satisfied since he’d given her an opportunity to.

Anakin didn’t think he’d get this far. To the best of his ability, he matched her passion, but his lips were stiff from inexperience, and didn’t mold to hers in a satisfying way. Gently, his large hands gripped the bare skin of her shoulders between her sleeves and her collar to remove her. The action lit a fire in her, the impatience setting in. “What? What’s wrong?” she asked breathlessly, leaning into him as if to chase him.

“I’ve never done this before.”

Her hazy gaze focused, “What do you mean?”

“I’ve never really… kissed before.” It was dim in this room, but he could see her expression shift.

It caught her off guard, but now that she had kissed him she could see what he meant. Her grip on him loosened, and she stood back on the heels of her feet. “But you seem so…” she started but ended her own protest. Anakin was a guy that talked a big game, but apparently couldn’t back it up. So his reputation of being promiscuous was merely hot air, and Vella had a sneaking suspicion he was the source of it all. It made her scoff with pity. “You know, I could teach you,”

“Would you?” his tone conveyed pleasant surprise and Vella shrugged.

“Sure. I’m not above charity work.”

“Very funny.”

“Alright, come here,” Obediently, Anakin took a step closer, their chests inches away from each other. “Cup my face.” Hands that Vella has always admired, come up. Warm palms set against the corners of her jaw, thumbs stroking her cheek bones. She felt like they could wrap around her entire head if he tried to. She gulped at the thought, his tender grasp was intimate and it short circuited her brain. Almost forgetting she was supposed to teach him, “Lean down,” His nose brushed hers, finding his footing. Tentatively, his plump lips met hers, and as to not overwhelm him she refrained from introducing him to tongue. It was soft, and she tilted her head, sighing in content.

His trepidation did well for him, allowing him to take his time and to gain a feel for it instead of diving in headfirst. Her hands slid up from his chest to his shoulders, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck and pressing their lips further together. After the pleasant tingles of novelty faded, she wanted to take the lead. However, the need to see what he was capable of given the floor outweighed it. When he detached to breathe, he placed a peck against her panting mouth, displaying his impatience. As if to remind himself where she was in the dark, his thumb traced the outline of her bottom lip and he moistened his own lips, returning to hers with fervor. One of his arms wrapped around her waist, arching her into him, desiring her closer.

Vella was a stranger to kissing without deepening it, and it was a refreshing change to know this wasn’t escalating. What may be boring for her though, is all new to Anakin, and it was intriguing to be his personal playground to safely explore his sexuality in something as innocent as kissing for minutes.

When Vella was unable to take it any longer, she cut it short, but promised him they’d be able to continue this another time. Like a sort of kissing class.

Anakin didn’t get any feedback, but he was already over-analyzing his approach. It became an attainable skill, something he could win at. He practiced for his next time. He started checking his teeth in the mirror, and freshening his breath regularly. Kissing the back of his hand to try to emulate what she receives when their lips touch.

His disbelief that she had entertained him had erased, and he dialed up his flirtatious nature with her in order to guarantee himself another kissing lesson sooner than she expected. It had been mere days since their last encounter in the supply closet.

But here she was, back inside that closet, and she got ahead of herself. She pulled him flush against her, caging her between him and the wall. It was no help at all to assuage the fire within her, she needed more from him.

If it was anyone else she was teaching to kiss other than Anakin Skywalker, she’d be put off by how eager he was to learn more. Absorbing every change like a sponge and giving it back to her.

Vella hung on his noise of surprise when her curious tongue peaked out to draw along his bottom lip. He stiffened under her touch, but she persisted. Hesitantly, he parted his lips, as if intimidated by this next step. For the most part, he allowed her to explore his mouth. His muscle was dead in his mouth, hiding in the back of his throat as if afraid to do something wrong. Adorably uncharacteristic of him, Vella smirked against him, and pressed on. Coaxing him to play with her by gentle strokes, his tongue relaxed against hers, and curiously it reached out.

“Mhm,” she encouraged

He learned that when she hummed in approval, it meant he’d done something she liked.

That endowed confidence quickly faded as soon as it’d arrived. As always, Anakin got ahead of himself, poking his tongue through her lips unceremoniously and probing her unsuspecting mouth. Vella pulled back in surprise, separating from him to meet his wide-eyed gaze. “Uh-uh, Skywalker, what the hell was that?”

“Was that not good?” he asked, genuinely.

“Obviously not. Look, there’s a time and place to be forceful, but this isn’t it. You dialed up the heat out of nowhere! We’ve got to build to that but…” as she spoke, she realized his mistake only came from a place of enthusiasm, and she’d have to show him how to be gentle. She sighed. “… just not in this session. Let’s save it for later, yeah? For now, go slow.” Her arms encircling his neck tightened as she moved back in to rejoin him.

Going slow was by far Anakin’s biggest struggle. If it wasn’t hard, fast, and strong, Anakin’s tongue was dead in the water or too tense to be pleasurable. Even as he clumsily ventured into her mouth, he’d want to taste all the wrong things. He’d run his tip across her teeth, try to feel the back of her throat, and if she tried to slide her tongue against his to meld, he’d freeze up. She might as well be sucking on a glass bottle. Not to mention none of the previous acts listed were any sort of pleasurable to her. They were about as enjoyable as teaching Younglings to fence— constantly scolding technique and execution until she was blue in the face.

Vella noticed however, what he lacked in experience and decency, he made up for in passion and in perseverance. Most would probably have been too embarrassed to keep going or to continue kissing sessions at all. Skywalker, as hard headed and foolhardy as ever, pursued his goal relentlessly, tackling the challenge with the same fervor he approached with everything. It was admirable to say the least.

Not only that, but Vella had begun to look forward to their sessions, especially after he’d shown such improvement in tongue kissing.

Once he’d unlocked it, it was something he incorporated faithfully. It added a heat to their sessions, feverishly exploring each other’s mouths until he was pushing her up against the wall, an arm snaking around her to press her to him. The act had her breathless, feeling his rigid muscle underneath his robes. She tilted her head, deepening their access to each other, and emitted a sound of confusion when he broke their contact, planting a chaste kiss on her lips as if he couldn’t wait to restore it after he spoke. “I want you to suck on it.” his plump lips murmured against hers.

Vella’s mind traveled immediately somewhere else, glancing down at where their torsos met. Bewildered as to how he jumped to that conclusion, but somehow not against it— Regardless, it was too soon, and she inhaled to tell him her answer when he beat her to it. “My tongue, I mean,” he added. She was taken aback at her shameful mistake, relieved he didn’t know how softly she would’ve rejected the option of giving him oral, with the promise she’d be open to it in the future.

However, it wasn’t something she’d done before. Unfamiliar with sucking on a tongue, and inexperienced with the sensation of it let alone doing it to someone else.

But there was something adventurous that stirred within her when she was with Anakin, and even though she had no idea where he got that idea, she agreed to it anyway. When they reconnected, she felt his tongue plunge into her mouth, lapping at it, and she latched on like she would his dick. Lips enclosed over it, sucking it gently further into her mouth.

The sound she drew from him was sinful. Low voice caressing her ears, sending chills down her spine. It spurred her on, bobbing her head as if she really were giving him oral, her own tongue toying with the tip of his. His moan made her eyes flutter, surprised at her reaction. Being pressed together so tightly, she didn’t realize she was instinctually wiggling her hips, seeking out friction to satisfy a burn between her legs, caused by Anakin’s sultry noises.

Once he noticed, it snapped him out of it, breaking their kiss, connected by a string of spit as they panted.

“I think we should stop here.” he said.

Vella couldn’t believe that she did that. She and Anakin had known each other forever, grown up alongside one another, and worked together as padawans. She shouldn’t be feeling this way about someone like that.

To work out her frustrations, she spent a lot of time training, working through her yearning for him by beating the sandbag to a pulp. Hearing the girls behind her talk about how Anakin Skywalker had smiled at them today made Vella fight harder. Though, there was some sick satisfaction that she was the one kissing Anakin in a closet the other day and not them. It shouldn’t be so pleasurable to be close to someone so sought after. Ever since he’d grown up in those few months away from Coruscant, spending time in the Outer Rim studying with Master Kenobi. When he had come back, he looked like a completely different person. Sprouted like a tree for one thing, towering over her. A dreamy smile that made her go weak in the knees, his voice lowered. He’d grown into himself, even if he was a little gangly. Vella had always had a thing for skinny guys.

The sandbag swayed to a halt, and she braced on it. It wasn’t like she couldn’t ignore her physical wants, it was nothing to get upset over. Teaching him how to kiss was supposed to be fun, so that's what it all was. Fun. Innocent fun.

However it didn’t feel so innocent when he grabbed her face like he did, cradling her head as he interlocked their lips in something so passionate as a dance. He’d improved his technique in such a short time it weakened Vella’s knees, clutching the front of his robes to keep herself afloat. Their noses brushed as he deepened it, his hand feeling large and heavy when it splayed against the small of her back, kissing their hips together. That pooling heat was back again, and she steeled herself from moving against him to chase such casual sensations.

“You’re so good at this,” Anakin murmured against her lips, and it only worsened her condition. She scraped her nails up the scanty curls at the nape of his neck, earning a graveled, rumbling hum— shivering her. His hold on her was so tender, yet urgent, as if she could break in his hands if he squeezed too hard. Never in her life had she been treated so kindly, and the warmth of her cheeks increased. Her hesitant step back hinted what she wanted, and Anakin obliged, closing in and caging her against the wall. When the movement of her head was too limited to angle up at him, he tilted it to the side for her, trailing feverish open mouthed kisses from her jawline to her neck. As if unable to ignore leaving his signature, he bit into the delicate skin. Involuntarily, she whimpered— At first, it humiliated her, wondering if he’d react shyly the way he did last time. Cut off their session short because his instructor was too into it. To her captivation, impossibly he pinned her further to the wall this time by his hips. It was instinctual, and it gave her the courage to invite him to take things to the next step. While he sucked on her pulse point, periodically running over it with his tongue, Vella opened up her robes a little, allowing her chest to breathe, to expose generous cleavage.

Anakin, consumed in his ministrations, arched her into him by handling her waist, unabated as she spoke his name, “Anakin— Ani,” Her hand ventured further into his hair, pinching it in between her fingers to send tingles down his spine. “You can move down,” Her phrasing a statement as to not betray her most obvious willingness to beg.

He was content where he was, but once he processed her words, he pulled back, looking at her in the dark since his eyes had adjusted to the dim light shining through the crease under the door. His silence solicited her elaboration, and sheepishly she gestured downwards to direct his attention.

Unfortunately, his reaction was difficult to read. She’d hoped he’d attack her with the same avarice, adopt that hungry glint in his eyes as he devoured what she offered him— especially something so sacred. Perhaps she should’ve anticipated his trepidation. All of this was still new to him, and she had moved too fast. Her mouth gaped as she thought of what to say, drawing breath to apologize.

“I don’t want to.” Anakin responded, easily, as if he vaulted no obstacles to make up his virgin mind. Once again, rejection stung. Vella blinked hard, because fabricating an explanation for this was unfathomable after she’d been embarrassed.

She fixed her robes, and wordlessly exited the closet.

Weren’t boys supposed to be eager for this sort of thing? She remembered how sporadic he acted during their first lessons. Shit at it as he was, he soaked up everything like a sponge and thanked her for it. Here she professed more, but he simply “didn’t want to.” Obstinate, impressionless he was scared of it— she’d seen him scared, he wasn’t scared. Did he really not want her?

This incident was not so readily recoverable. Territory she hadn’t traversed was all too unnerving to navigate, and there wasn’t anyone to confide in. Usually, she’d confide in Anakin, but that was not an option.

“Torp,” A recognizable, feathery voice broke through the din of the temple outside this empty training room. Vella kept her back turned, unraveling the wrappings from her knuckles.

“What do you want, Skywalker?”

“You’ve been avoiding me, and I wanted to know if we were still on for tonight.” he sounded so timid, it guilted her.

“Is that what you want?” Her reply proved itself to be in a word… stern.

“Yes, but why have you been avoiding me?”

Vella wished this conversation was over so she could return to her self pitying. She rounded on him, “Do you find me intimidating?” Some might mistake the question for rhetorical, or derisive. But Anakin knew her. There was vulnerability in her narrowed eyes. “Do I disgust you? Did I do something wrong?” Everything she heard about boys felt turned upside down. Was she not desirable?

Anakin was not good at this part of friendship. The emotional conversations never came easy to him despite his gift in reading people. “You didn’t do something wrong. You left before you told me how you felt though, perhaps you shouldn’t be so quick to retreat.” Was that constructive criticism enough to suffice so they could go back to being friends? He was uncomfortable.

Vella swallowed her pride because he was right. “Is there a reason you don’t want to go further with me? Are you scared?”

Anakin answered honestly, shaking his head and flashing a glance at her shoes. “No. I just don’t want to. You told me you’d teach me how to kiss, that’s all I’m interested in doing.”

So kiss they did. Kissing sessions that left Vella hot and bothered and alone. It didn’t make sense to her how Anakin could leave them so cool-headed, as if he hadn’t thrown her for a breakneck loop and called it a day. Where she’d have a wet spot, Anakin would be flaccid. It was frustrating, and the emotion bubbled inside her towards the ends of these sessions because where she’d want to grind, straddle, ask for his helping hand in between her legs, sit directly on his dick— she wasn’t allowed to. In the middle of their latest escapade, Anakin sensed her desperation in how she clung onto him, and kissed him hard. To the point where it’d be harsh if Anakin wasn’t into pain.

“You think these are still a good idea? Can’t help but feel you’re starting to resent me.”

Was Vella imagining things or was this boy grinning against her lips? “Quit it, Skywalker, aren’t you having fun?” she taunted, attempting to veil her feelings for him with quips and carelessness. In that case, Anakin stooped, picking her up by her thighs. Obediently, they locked around his waist and she gazed at him with wide glossy eyes as he merely met that gaze with sultry half lids, placing a chaste kiss against her lips.

“My neck was starting to hurt,” he drawled, knowing that was not a sexy line and she scoldingly patted his shoulder. He snickered.

“Fuck off,” she told him, reconnecting their lips throwing her arms around his neck.

“So… you guys never…” you trailed off, allowing Anakin to put the pieces together himself.

He merely smiled at you dreamily. “Nope. She wanted to, asked me a bunch, but I didn’t like her like that.”

“You don’t have to like each other to fuck.”

“No,” Anakin agreed with a shrug, “but for me I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else but you.” He lifted your conjoined hands, brandishing his lips against your knuckles as he held your gaze. The realization hit you, and your lips stretched.

“No…” You narrowed your eyes. “You mean to tell me you’d met me by then?”

“Towards the tail-end, yeah,” His strong hands found your waist, lifting you off the counter effortlessly to set you back down in front of him, reveling in your starstruck expression. “You were the one that made me realize I was interested in sex at all.” As if to emphasize that point, he met your mouth with his, parting your lips impatiently so he could return to tracing every corner of your mouth with his tongue, intent on finishing what he started before recounting the story.

You had one last question, pulling back from his heartfelt and hardened notions and he sighed. “You know, you paint yourself as quite the hero here.” You patted his chest, “Did Vella give you reports? How did you know everything she was thinking?”

Anakin, hellbent on shutting you up or talking about this while he was inside you, he tossed the answer back at you before scooping you up into his arms. “Well, you asked for an explanation, and I thought you deserved a good story.”

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mythicalmyles · 1 year

Note

MYTH! Its been awhile! How are you doing? Btw im doing great!

Can i req something about like reader getting fucked stupid by a perverted and horny killer while he's walking through the woods? Like reader and his friends were just having a stroll in the woods and they end up splitting ways and reader got lost, his friends were trying to call him but he seems to left his phone in his house so they decide to look for him but they end up saw him butt naked and someone fucking him from behind!

You can choose any kinks if you want! I wont mind (Tbh your kinks and writings are the best!! And you never fail to make my day the best!!)

I hope toby is oke 🥺

Blackmail, dubcon, public, sub/bottom reader, violent, dark themes, quicky

(Name) let out an exasperated sigh as he stun in a circle, trees filling his vision. He began hating them, the dark beginning to freak him out now he was completely alone.

He paused as he spotted a hooded figure, heart beating faster. He quickly made his way to the figure assuming it was one of his friends, however dread filled him when a masked face turned to him. They stared at each other for a moment before (Names) shaky voice broke the silence. “I-if this is a joke, its not fu-funny.” He stuttered out, trying not to bolt.

Almost tauntingly the figure tilted its head, the size and build of him being unfamiliar and sending raw fear into (Names) stomach. Before (Name) could even draw another breath he was slammed against a tree, vision dancing as the bark scraped his skin. All he could do was choke out a rasp before an arm pressed against his throat, holding him into the tree. His vision started blurring as he stared into goggle covered eyes.

White fear flooded (Names) head as he gazed at the other man, stomach twisting with fear. All (Name) could do was whimper. “You wanna live?” (Name) nodded rapidly, the mans arm limiting his movements. “You make me cum, you get to live.” (Name) bit his lip, nodding again as he stared into the others eyes. “Toby, you’re gonna remember it.” (Name) shivered as he was turned around, Toby’s hands leaving indents in his hips.

“Pretty little thing, shouldn’t be out here all alone. There’s bad men out here, your lucky i found you.” Toby’s voice was laced with psychopathy, his tone almost gleeful as he made quick work of your jeans. He used (Names) own belt to bind his arms together behind his back, laughing when he voiced his discomfort. “Don’t worry princess, you’ll be just fine.” Was all the warning he got before Toby’s cock began pushing against his hole. A loud groan left (Name) as Toby slid into him, only his spit as lube.

Toby wasted no time before sliding out only to slam back in, a fiendish grin coating his cheeks as he listened to (Name) scream. Toby knew he wouldn’t have much time, not doubting for a moment that others heard it and would come looking. The thought didn’t stop Toby, rather seeming to spur him on as he set an almost brutal pace. All (Name) could do was moan, he could barely think as Toby’s cock split him open.

Toby stumbled back from the tree, pulling (Name) with him, continuing his thrusts ever moan he drew from the smaller spurring him on. His hand wrapped around (Names) neck and it wasn’t long before Toby’s hand was soaked in drool. The sudden appearance of three guys threw him for a moment, a dangerous smirk quick to slap over his face. He purposely sped up his thrusts as (Name) babbled, trying to explain himself. Toby’s murderous glare was quick to make them leave, the feeling of (Names) tight ass wrapped around his cock drove him insane, arms wrapping around him and gripping him tightly as he dove his cock into the (h/c). “Thats it pretty boy, all your friends just watched you get fucked. Bet you liked it, whore.” Despite the venom and hate in Toby’s words it didn’t stop (Name) screaming his name one last tome before falling into his arms, allowing the brunet to do as he pleased.

(Names) body ached as Toby rode out his orgasm, his large hands felt like they were going to crush him. Lucky for (Name) Toby came quick, pulling out and watching him drop. Toby’s empty eyes stared down at him. “You’ve probably got five minutes before the others are here and they cut that pretty throat open.” (Names) eyes doubled as he stared back at Toby, stomach going woozy at the sight of his smirk.

(Name) took a deep breath before rushing into a sprint, ignoring the burn at the bottom of his spine and the ghost of Toby’s hands crushing his hips.

#ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x malereader #ticci toby x male!reader #ticci toby x male reader #bottom male readee #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x male reader #creepy pasta x reader #creepypasta x male!reader #creepy pasta x male!reader #creepy pasta x male reader #creepypasta x malereader #creepypasta x male #myfic

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oneshlut · 6 months

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Hey!! I absolutely ADORE your writing, it makes me so happy!!! I happen to be a sucker for our favorite nerd, and you write super good for him! May i ask for general datting headcanons? Like what its like to date him???? Thank you!!!<3

A/N: ohhh, i was WAITING for this one!! i loveee dating hcs. i'm assuming you mean dr. flug, in which i am always happy to write for him! thank you so much for the request! im so happy you enjoy my works!! c: (also flug may be just a teensy bit autism-coded...)

The Doctor Is Out (Dr. Flug x Reader) [Headcanons]

Rules For Requesting

Characters I Will Write For

Masterlist

Summary: General Dr. Flug dating headcanons/What is dating Dr. Flug like?

You thought he was a nervous wreck before? You've never seen him on a date. Before a date, for that matter.

After asking you out to a museum that recently opened outside the Hat Island, he dragged himself to his room and.. screamed into his pillow. Leaving 5.0.5. decently concerned.

He paced around his lab, wracked with anxiety. Oh god, oh god--what is he going to do?! Did he still look alright?? He paused his anxious strides to look at himself in his full-body mirror that he practically pulled out of nowhere. I guess he looked alright-? Or did he need to change his shirt again? Oh--crap he should probably take off his gloves.. or should he? He's always had normally sweaty hands, not including his nerves getting the best of him.. Yeah, the gloves are staying on.

Not to mention how Demencia is teasing him every minute she gets while Flug is writing out a plan. Yeah, you heard me right, this faceless man has an entire 24-step written plan for this date. He can't go without a plan, right? He doesn't want to mess up in front of you, either..

Some ridiculous, unreasonable, irrational part of him thinks maybe you won't show up. Obviously, he doesn't know any better to know how much you love him. Then again, if he knew, I don't think he'd last.

The museum went way better than he expected! There just happened to be a jet plane exhibit, and suddenly his 24-step plan has made its way to a nearby trash can. Don't get me wrong, his nerves were definitely still there, and not going anywhere anytime soon. He was just glad that he didn't draw you away with his possibly unending rambling about different types of aircraft.

The two of you stayed in the museum until it closed at 4 p.m. The time seemed to fly by, and at some point during the date you had held his hand. Poor Flug was too distracted, that he only noticed your interlocked hands when the both of you were leaving the building. He's blushing like a maniac now. As if the red tint on his face couldn't get any worse, before you left, you kissed him on his cheek. You kissed him on his cheek. His bones turned to ice, frozen in place. Later that night, he couldn't get his mind off of you. He's not washing his bag for a while. Not like he washed it in the first place.

So, you two are dating! In a relationship! Dr. Flug refuses to believe it, but every morning kinda forces him to. Though, sometimes he gets a bit overwhelmed with the attention, so when this happens, you give him the day to compose himself again.

He's happy with the attention, though! More than happy, he's honestly never received such affection before and.. he enjoys it.

Some days, you'll just have hang-out dates! For example, Dr. Flug is undergoing a heavy project and asks you to come over for comfort. He'll even ask you for help with his experiments from time to time! Don't worry, he wouldn't involve you in anything too dangerous, he's not cruel. Well, not to you..

If we're talking about Dr. Flug here, at least one date has to go wrong. Thankfully, it's almost never his fault. He's, unfortunately, slightly popular with heroes. Not that he, himself, as a villain is popular, but rather him being known under the Blackhat name has drawn in some unwanted attention from heroes.

What does this mean for the two of you? Well, worst case scenario, a hero has such a huge grudge against Flug that they are determined to ruin your date. According to Dr. Flug, there's only a 1.117% chance of this happening, so you shouldn't have to worry too much.

Afterwards, he feels horrible that your date went to crap. He apologizes profusely, even if you forgive him in the first place, he'll continue to feel bad. All he wants is for you to be happy, and it feels like he's failed you. But the fact that you're still here with him is more than enough proof that you're far from giving up on him, if ever.

On days where you would stay inside with him, whether it be a stormy night or just a long day for you, sometimes he'd turn around from whatever he was working on when you don't respond to him, and he'll find you resting peacefully next to 5.0.5. The sight warms his heart, as he moves to grab a blanket for you, and dims the lights in his lab slightly.

With you asleep, and now with him and nothing to work on, he now has time to think. And for some reason, no thoughts come to him. Surprising to his usually busy brain.

One thought came to him, eventually. Watching you rest soundly in the now dim-lighted room, your chest lifting up and down with your soft breaths, made him realize how lucky he truly is.

Then, he came up with an idea. He didn't want your dreaming to be disturbed, did he? He grabbed a piece of notepaper, tape, and a marker. Opening his door slightly, he taped up the scratch-made sign titled:

"The Doctor is Out"

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bunny-corp · 2 months

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Hello hi!

Something REALLY weird for you today! This is one of the other things i found while recovering the uncensored fredbear frames! It's a prototype poster signed off by BOTH Henry Emily AND William Afton!!

I don't think this was ever hung and i cant find ANY records of what I'm assuming are rubber-faced animatronics ever in faz-HISTORY, but a sign off means that these designs EXISTED, maybe not publicly, but it at least means they got to child-testing! which is CRAZY because that means these robots are (potentially) SOMEWHERE OUT THERE!!! Which is like a WHOLE NEW mystery!

I actually have a couple more of these posters, I'm not done properly restoring them, these guys are PRETTY roughed up, which is unfortunate, considering this is a HUGE find, In my opinion. Completely undocumented animatronics from a potentially discontinued never released line??? SIGN ME THE HECK UP!

On top of this; These posters confirm that Henry Emily (Or William, but im personally believing it was Henry due to personal reasons.) DID in fact draw these, Finalized concept works usually include 1. A signature from the artist and 2. a confirmation signature from a higher-up (OR in this case; Business Partner.)

I'm really sorry that I can't provide more concrete dates or information on this specific piece or any facts about the robotics, but if i were to speculate? I could be wrong but my personal leading theory is that this might have been the original designs for the canceled 2003-2004 Additions to Fredbears Family Diner, maybe they failed Child-Testing, maybe they weren't manageable or strayed too far from Fredbear and Spring-Bonnie's plsuh designs. But one things for certain, They never got to publicly preform...

Anyway! Till next time! I'm going to switch my focus to whatever is going on with the poll after this post. Hopefully, it's something cool. That's not to say all the options are cool! But you know? Cool.

~Bunny C.

#Archive Fredbears #bonnie the bunny #im not actually sure HOW to tag this #Bunny Spec

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mar-im-o · 20 days

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i think it’s a bit unfair to say people depicting c!scar without a wheelchair are ableist, bc he doesn’t actually have one in the game minecraft which is where c!scar comes from

obviously more representation is always good and the more artists drawing disabled characters the better, but idk it feels like an unfair statement to say the reason people don’t draw his chair is due to ableism when most people draw his in-game character, who doesn’t have a wheelchair anyway

open to hearing any counter argument if you have one, im not disabled myself so this may be coming from a place of ignorance but im interested to hear what you think about this point?

(not meant to be a hateful ask at all, sorry if it comes across as aggressive or confrontational)

Sup! No hate at all! We're just having some mature conversations and I really appreciate everyone's willingness to discuss this.

So abelism is inherent to our society. It's ingrained on the way our buildings are made, expectations for careers and work, assumptions of intelligence, and much more.

And one aspect of that is media presentation. In media, disabled characters always fulfill a specific niche. It's expected for them to be physically helpless but maybe geniuses. Or they're complete damsels in distress that has to rely on other characters to make them better.

C!Scar doesn't fit any of these stereotypes, which is why I think people don't consider drawing him disabled when depicting him. By definition, that's abelism influencing the way you are interacting with this character.

People apply real life features of the ccs to their characters all the time! Look how often Grian is drawn with glasses. Or how Joe was always drawn white even tho his old skin was dark! Or how Impulse is drawn fat! People know these elements of the ccs exist and apply it to their characters

People don't do that for Scar because able-bodiedness is the default. c!Scar being in a wheelchair doesn't cross most people's minds because of implicit abelism. Because we've been taught to assume ability and not expect anyone with disabilities to make compelling characters.

No one's making the active choice to be abelist! I don't think anyone who draws Scar as able-bodied is even a bad person! Like it's a drawing. Who cares.

But abelism is ingrained in our society. And unless you are actively combatting it, you're contributing to it.

So by that logic, yes, refusing to depict Scar in a wheelchair is abelist.

#marimo rambles #discourse #mcyt #hermitcraft #gtws

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urfavnegronerd · 9 months

Text

stars in the sky- phora + jhene aiko

trope: fluff, s/o mick for the idea in my ask box smooches

sum slight

warnings: grammarly hates me, reader has trouble sleeping bc i said so (i’ve had so much trouble falling asleep idk why), no use of pronouns but use of mama, ma, n mami, idk how much i like it but im outa slump so yay, lmk if i missed anything

published: august 15, 2023

song lyrics are italicized

w/c: 1.3k ish

reader is black-coded like always

stay in the state of the greatest bliss

Miles’ room was dark. Well, dark-ish. He tried though, pulling the curtains all the way shut, turning off the light in his room and the hallway, but the afternoon sun still gently weaved its way through the fibers of his curtains.

“What’s the point of this, Miles?”

“To get you to try and sleep,”

“It's four in the afternoon,”

“Naptime,”

“What?”

“Just try, mama, okay?”

You’d never been a good sleeper and usually stayed awake while Miles fell asleep in your arms, that was how it usually went. Even more so when he came to your window late at night after his Prowler duties, those visits mainly consisted of cleaning any wounds or scratches, on occasion giving him stitches, helping him change, and kissing the top of his head when he inevitably dozed off on your chest. You were usually up then anyway, it was a fun addition to your nighttime routine. Miles had only begun to worry about your sleeping patterns when you fell asleep at 9 am while you were over his, watching a telenovela with Mrs. Morales. Gently nudging you awake after the telenovela marathon at about 1 that afternoon, he fell into the pattern of observing your moods. Most of which during the day consisted of you constantly being tired, and yawning, but somehow always getting school work done that assisted in your straight A’s. At first, he assumed that it was just you putting too much pressure on yourself to perform, but when he realized these patterns continued well into school breaks, he started to worry.

He had started to realize that every time he came to your window after his Prowler work, you were up anyway, reading, writing, drawing, or pretty much any activity you could get your hands on. Again, at first, he thought this was endearing, and went as far as getting puzzles for you after he had interrupted the puzzle on the floor when he gently knocked on your window. And so a much-needed conversation ensued the morning after.

“Ma, I’m worried about you,”

“For why Miles?” You turn your attention away from the mirror where you’re laying your baby hair down.

“Ian never seen you sleep,”

“So?”

“Do you sleep?”

“Yeah, I just have some trouble with it is all,”

“I don’t make you sleepy?”

“You make me feel safe, comfortable, relaxed, and loved, but no Miles, you don’t make me sleepy,”

He huffed, falling back onto your duvet.

“What's wrong papá?”

“I’m worried about you,”

“Sueñito, you don’t need to be worried about me,”

“You fall asleep when most people would be awake starting their days, almost always during the first and second period, mama, that's not normal,”

“Maybe I’m just sleepy in general,” You were beginning to get defensive then, why did he care if you were tired usually?

He sighed then, rubbing his eyes and urging himself out of your bed. He didn’t want to fight with you, he never wanted to fight with you, so he had just decided to leave it alone then. However, the very same conversation was repeated about two weeks later. The two of you were walking home, as school had gotten out early that day, and you had slowly begun to slump onto Miles’ shoulder, yawning and rubbing your eyes.

“Ma?” There was a twinge of concern in his voice, it was barely even noon, is it normal to be this tired? “You okay?”

“‘m just tired,” You yawn, still clawing at your eyes.

“It’s 11:45,”

“So?”

“Mama,” he knew you were just being stubborn, but he also knew you didn’t want to admit that you had a problem sleeping. You didn’t like to ask for help, you tried to get things right on your own, and you usually did. “Be honest.”

“Fine,” you forced out, shame tugging at your cheeks, and Miles knew exactly what you meant by that

“Thank you,”

And so, the two of you were here, in this moment.

“Please? Just try for me,”

You huff plopping onto his mattress.

“Now what?”

“We wait,”

“Oh, joy,”

whenever i’m in your atmosphere

The two of you had been lying, in the dark, for about an hour and a half. Naturally, the sun was slowly beginning to set, hence dimming the light in his room.

At this point, you were fighting sleep. It’s not like you didn’t feel exhausted all the fucking time, it’s that you had this mental block in your head. It’s like when you’re so tired but you can’t manage to fall asleep, like someone is forcing your eyes open. It’s hell, and it frustrates you, makes you want to scream and cry and essentially just throw a tantrum. Not that you’d ever admit it, but you feel so powerless, so out of control. A sigh mixed with anger, frustration, and disappointment breezes through your lips as you press the heels of your palms into your eyes.

“Uh uh ma, don’t do that,” he whispers, gently pushing your hands away from your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“This isn’t working,” you whine. “I turn seventeen in a year and I can’t even sleep right,”

“Hey hey hey, it’s not that serious,”

“I’m so tired, Miles,” you mumble, tears poking at your eyes.

“Amor, I know it’s frustrating, okay? I know how much you love to be in control and I get that, but this is so bad for you,”

“I know,”

“So can we try? Just one more time?”

“Yeah,”

“Do you want like, some kind of noise?”

“Can you just talk?”

“Yeah. I can do that,”

And he does. He talks about anything and everything, all while staring at you, your body pressed against him, your face angled upwards at him. Your full lips slightly parted in a little ‘o’ as your big brown eyes ogle up at him. To a lot of people, everything he’s saying would seem pretty mundane, but the way his voice soothes you is something different. His voice is calm, cool, and collected, his nuyo accent ever so prominent.

You’re not sure just how much time passes until you slowly begin to get groggy, your eyes heavy. Miles, obviously, takes notice and brings his voice down to a whisper.

“Dad woulda been so happy I met you, ma,”

Your movements are thick as syrup, you nod, trying to open your eyes more so he knows that he has your full attention.

“No no no, don’t do that,” he whispers, running a hand over your eyes, forcing them to droop lazily once again.

“Jus wan’ you to know ‘m listening” you slur, languidly clutching his wrist. The point of this action? You didn’t know, but you held onto him anyway.

“You’re always listening, Ian gotta worry bout that.” He mumbles, softly stroking your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. His hands are calloused and rough, but they’re always soft and gentle, making sure to love every curve of you. As your eyes begin to wilt close, he delicately traces your cupid bow, in response to which your lightly freckle-kissed nose scrunches, your brows tightly knitting themselves together. With a quiet laugh, he gently runs his fingers over your eyebrows, desperately trying to relax your face, to which you hum tiredly in response.

“Kiss?”

“Mmmm,” you groan, fatigue finally catching up to you, in affirmation. Taking the hint, he kisses you- your cheeks, chin, jaw, everywhere– peppering light butterfly kisses all over your face. Gently, you sigh and fully close your eyes, your head relaxing into the pillow. Smiling, he brushes gentle kisses onto both of your eyelids and then your nose. Cradling your head into his chest he kisses the bonnet covering your hair, inhaling the scent of hair product and oil, the scent of you, something he adored in a way that words couldn’t describe.

“Sleep, princesa.”

i’m so glad that i got you, you’re my dream come true <3

a/n: everyone say thank u mick @lunarfleur

taglist: @hiimayee @masaidabest @lunarfleur @zo3ez @miguellover6969 @[email protected] (idk if this person is on tumblr or not but hey!) @nagi3seastorm @kombuuuu

reblogs are always appreciated for reach <3

xoxo,

rae <3

p.s. taglist form in my masterlist as well as my spam lmao

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thesherrinfordfacility · 2 months

Text

six months on (albeit, a bit late) part 2/3

part one | part two | epilogue (at some point)

okay right this is significantly more important (and more interesting frankly) than doing the job that im actually paid to do, so let's pick up where we left off in part one. main conclusions that ive come to so far, as a recap:

aziraphale feels threatened by the conversation with the metatron and feels he has little choice but to go to heaven. also, possibly feels aware that the metatron might be able to see/hear their conversation, and so has to be careful in his own proposal that does not alert crowley to there being something wrong, and does not alert metatron to his suspicion of him

wants to bring crowley with him because... yk, love. and he thinks that the restoration might be something that crowley has always wanted anyway, so he has to offer it without clueing crowley in on the possibility that aziraphale is under some kind of duress

aziraphale was initially very resistant to going, but only gave in when a) metatron brought up crowley in the first place (implied threat aforementioned), b) crowley could be restored (which he thinks crowley might want anyway but never entertained could happen), and c) it would give aziraphale an opportunity to not only change heaven as it currently is, but also recognises him - in all his perceived imperfection as an angel - to be the "right man for the job"

crowley understandably refuses, and launches into his confession/proposal. both of them want the same end result - being together - but the journey there is the contested part. aziraphale tries to persuade crowley into coming with him by subtly changing his language and mannerisms, almost like he's leaking out hints as to why it is so important that they remain together

the only true miscommunication they have - that aptly heralds the beginning of the end - is "nothing lasts forever". everything else, arguably (aside from aziraphale's attempt to keep things under wraps) is fairly well communicated, but they simply. disagree

i will hastily add, as i said in part one, that this is still only my interpretation of the whole sequence; there have been so many amazing observations that have made my opinion/interpretation of the final fifteen flit from one stance to another, and these two posts are purely me rewatching it all, paying closer attention, and working out what the hell (ha) i think is going on.

so, we left off at "good luck".

aziraphale definitely appears taken aback that crowley has not, in fact, understood what he meant throughout the whole conversation, and most of all appears to have completely shut down with "nothing lasts forever". where aziraphale thinks that crowley putting his glasses back on means that they're about to leave together, hand in hand, and face whatever has been dealt to them... it's actually crowley drawing the line in the sand, and sticking (rightly so) to his set boundary that he will not return to heaven as an angel - regardless of the optimistic assumption of what that would precisely entail (ie. this is assuming that restoration is even possible, let alone that crowley would be able to be restored and simultaneously keep his memories/his "him" in the process... arguably, these two options are likely the more realistic).

aziraphale is now, more desperately and in plainer language, resorting to begging crowley to see why this is the best choice they can make to remain together. but this is also where i feel like aziraphale's double-speak language that he exhibited with "...i can make a difference"/"we can make a difference", and the metatron jibe, is growing more frantic and - as a result - more obvious.

to me, he's clearly trying to impress upon crowley that he is not rejecting him, that he wants crowley with him desperately... but is equally having to keep his expression of this as... strategic as possible. it's almost like he's flitting between talking to crowley in as heartfelt and candid a manner as he can, and then squeaking in the caveats that are for the benefit of this assumed pretence he's playing - i guess what im trying to say is that aziraphale can't very well turn around and say, 'crowley i am not rejecting you, i want to be with you, but i cannot get out of this situation im being placed in, and i cannot leave you here on your own because i have no idea - and am scared of - what will happen.' the way he says "work with me!"; 'its going to be me and you against them, still. that's all it was ever going to be; i am not theirs, i am yours, but i have to play this game' - which incidentally, to any outside ears, would arguably just sound like aziraphale asking for crowley to... well, work with him. "we can be together!" is said with all due emphasis and cry, and aziraphale neatly tacks on, "angels, doing good!", because they would do good - good as they see it - and crowley would have to be an angel in order to do so, yes, but ultimately aziraphale wants him... and yet still remains plausible to anyone who could be listening.

i do still think - for the record - that there is a part of aziraphale that thinks that this is absolutely the right thing to do. crowley has put other options to him that, in contrast, solve nothing as far as aziraphale is concerned, and this sense of threat from the metatron only forces into sharp relief that whatever happens, wherever they go, they are not free of anything and never will be until something changes. this line of thinking has not always been how aziraphale has thought historically - but it's who he is now. if we accept that all of the hard, agonising decisions and choices that aziraphale has had to make, all of the times where he has battled with what is the right thing to do (arguably - exactly as crowley has taught him), has led to this moment, then aziraphale standing steadfast to his decision is absolutely in line with the character development we've been shown throughout both seasons.

that is just my interpretation given the events that come before this bit of the dialogue; whichever way you look at it though, aziraphale is evidently panicked and erratic that this might actually be it - that he and crowley are done. the really interesting bit for me, however, lies in his movements, his body language, and his expressions? they feel more in line with how aziraphale normally acts. to me, all of this is genuine, it's not put on, nor faked; where before he was trying to hide his fear under the guise of excitement, it now feels like this is actually aziraphale speaking, and not some uncanny facsimile who is trying to clutch every fraying string and keep it all together. also worth noting that during this part of the interaction that not once, as far as we see it, does aziraphale look out of the window.

whichever way you look at it though, aziraphale is evidently panicked and erratic that this might actually be it - that he and crowley are done. the really interesting bit for me lies in his movements, his body language, and his expressions? they feel more in line with how aziraphale normally acts. to me, all of this is genuine, it's not put on, nor faked; where before he was trying to hide his fear under the guise of excitement, it now feels like this is actually aziraphale speaking, and not some uncanny facsimile who is trying to clutch every fraying string and keep it all together. also worth noting that during this part of the interaction that not once, as far as we see it, does aziraphale look out of the window.

crowley though? crowley has clocked out. noone could blame him at all, especially after the sucker punch of the previous half of the sequence, because whilst i think he's hearing aziraphale say these things spoken with sincerety, probably even recognises them to be genuine, he's possibly also hearing the unspoken, perceived caveat that comes along with them. "we can be together... but you have to change." "we can be together... but i'll never love you, as you are, as much as you want me to."

he's hearing what aziraphale is saying, and either he doesn't believe it, or he's resentful that he would say this now - from crowley's pov - to cover up and compensate for what he said before. as he goes to walk away, but is called back by aziraphale, his turn and his carriage is... not petulant, that's the wrong word, but almost impatient? like he's humouring aziraphale at this point, but not that he has much more interest in what aziraphale has got to say. and again! given everything that has just been said and done, from crowley's perspective, that's completely understandable.

it's the turn of the head; crowley already has his barrier up with his glasses on, but he's cutting off any remaining communication he can give to aziraphale. it's interesting that he's specifically chosen to look out of the window, where we presume the metatron is - but does crowley even see him? does crowley essentially dissociating so rapidly that he can't even see that the metatron is there? or does he see him, and think that it's of very little consequence - the metatron won, he's got aziraphale (or - aziraphale was always heaven's, anyway), and it's barely worth notice or comment?

but it's also like he's giving aziraphale another chance - another chance to change his mind. if he didn't at least have a small flicker of hope left that that might happen, it stands to reason that crowley would have simply kept on walking. but he stops, and he waits. as aziraphale keeps talking, however, he turns his head specifically as he says "together", and appears to clamp his mouth shut as he does so, as if almost to say 'it's no use saying all this, because i'm hurt and i'm angry and i'm giving up. you want us to be together only if i come back; i'm never going back, you keep pushing, so how can you so desperately want to be with me if this is the only circumstance in which you can bring yourself to do so?'

of course, then, we get aziraphale's last gut-wrenching plea that he needs crowley. it's so simple a statement, and it has no condition afterwards, nothing to qualify it - and yet it is still something that aziraphale has never said, or - to my recollection - ever expressed in this capacity. sure, he's begged him with puppy-dog eyes to make hamlet popular, or to miracle the stain out of his coat, but nothing so heartfelt and dire as this. it's as true to any love confession that i think we get in the final fifteen; especially when you consider the mirror of the line in 1862 - "i don't need you..." / "and the feeling is mutual, obviously!" - and the context in which that is said.

aziraphale has, as bravely and vulnerably as we've seen aziraphale do anything else, vocalised something as close to a love confession as he can currently get... and crowley doesn't say anything? doesn't even look at him? throughout this confession of sorts, crowley has continued to look out of the window, and whilst we know that this is likely out of self-preservation on his part, what must this seem like from aziraphale's perspective? presumably it feels like a rejection - but is that a rejection of the entire thing - the whole offer - or of what aziraphale has just told him?

in the above moment, we can see aziraphale's face clearly crumple in hurt when crowley doesn't even acknowledge what he's just said, before masking it rapidly with indignation. he then lashes out with "i don't think you understand what i'm offering you."

indenting this next bit, because i need to ramble it out:

whilst i do think (as i said in the last post), that aziraphale might genuinely believe that crowley in some small part wants to return to heaven to be an angel, crowley has quite clearly rejected, in the room, any notion of it. his repulsion at heaven, and the notion of forgiveness, is not as wishy-washy as it was at the bandstand; now, he is vehement and firm that his opinion of heaven cannot get any lower. and i think aziraphale knows it. plus, the way that aziraphale words and proposes the restoration offer to crowley feels like he was aware that it might be a hard sell. so when aziraphale says 'you don't understand what i'm offering you', i don't think that aziraphale was himself talking about the restoration specifically; i don't think he's essentially saying, 'crowley, you're being so stupid, you could be an angel again - what part of this don't you understand? do you even comprehend what i'm trying to give you, here?' what i think aziraphale is, however, offering to crowley is that he and crowley remain together. aziraphale doesn't have much of a choice in going back to heaven - that much seems fairly apparent - and the only way, as far as he sees it, that they can remain together is if they go back to heaven together. and to do that, crowley would need to become an angel. i know people have often viewed aziraphale's decision to return to heaven along of the lines of, 'he loves heaven more than he loves crowley'... but i don't think that's it at all. to aziraphale - him begging crowley to come with him, work with and help him to make a difference (i.e. the right thing to do, i.e. a difference that is meaningful to, and controlled by, them), for crowley to not even look at him when he tells him he needs him - it must frankly feel like a rejection of aziraphale himself? when aziraphale says that crowley doesn't understand what he's offering him, i think it's more along the lines of aziraphale saying that he's offering all of himself to crowley. in the hope that, even if it means crowley has to return to heaven, being together is enough to warrant it? that aziraphale himself is enough for crowley to want to do that? 'do you hate heaven more than you love me?'

this feels like a stretch, i grant you, but given everything we saw towards the beginning of the episode - especially where shax's first jibe at aziraphale is to undermine what aziraphale actually means to crowley ("emotional support angel"), something that aziraphale presumably already fears (i.e. that he's a means to an end, of sorts) - it doesn't seems implausible.

furthermore, when crowley retorts that he understands perfectly, and understands more than aziraphale does, aziraphale's reaction then makes more emotional sense. of course, from crowley's perspective, he thinks that this is about the restoration, and of course he understands more about what aziraphale is offering... because how can he not?! he is fallen, he fell, and there is no way he, someone who has gone thousands of years (potentially millions) being deemed unforgivable and irredeemable, can ever be restored like aziraphale is hoping he can. and why would he want to be? that's not something aziraphale as an angel would ever be able to fully understand; the futility of wishing otherwise, the insult, and the impossibility.

i do think that it's worth bearing in mind that canonically, the implication is that aziraphale was not there to witness crowley's fall - possibly not even the fall in its entirety. we're never shown any instance where crowley even talks about it to aziraphale. absolutely, this is evidently a delicate and (if nothing else) touchy subject for crowley, and he doesn't owe aziraphale a deeper account than the questionable "sauntered vaguely downwards". but equally, it's not fair to assume that aziraphale knows how much of a boundary he is crossing by even entertaining the idea, and pushing it.

perhaps he should have inferred it at a previous point, true, but... the closest we get to crowley talking about it is "the angel you knew is not me", and "i won't be forgiven! not ever!". it's not unrealistic that aziraphale would infer these two poignant lines as crowley being wistful for the chance at redemption or forgiveness. ultimately, in my view, it's not until the final fifteen that aziraphale begins to have even the faintest idea of just how deep crowley's antipathy for heaven runs. it's not a case of just thinking they're a bunch of dicks, but that fundamentally, crowley will never align with heaven under any circumstances.

so when crowley says this, he is absolutely saying 'i know about this subject more than you do; i am fallen, you are not, and you therefore are not able to understand like i do why being restored is not only unthinkable, but the worst outcome possible for me. it's not the good thing you think it is. i want us to be together, but you're asking for something i cannot - and will not - give you, and you don't seem to see the problem in asking me in the first place.'

but aziraphale is not thinking of this; what i think he might be hearing from crowley is, 'no no, i know you want to be together, and are offering yourself up to me with your whole heart; the issue is though that if it means i have to go to heaven to have it, to have you... it's not enough to make me do this. i don't want it; nothing and noone would warrant me doing this. you are not enough for me to acquiesce to going, and moreover you're not clever enough to understand that.'

it very quickly, i think, stops being about crowley not wanting to return to heaven - at least, not in the way they were previously discussing. instead, it feels like aziraphale is now starting to internalise crowley's reaction as a reflection on himself. which then, for me, that makes aziraphale's next line of "well... then there's nothing more to say." make all the more sense to me... because that's the kinda thing you say after things have really hit the ground, right? and i imagine, for aziraphale, hearing crowley essentially say that he's not enough would probably elicit that reaction. that crowley ultimately has no further use for him (again: "emotional support angel"), because crowley can so easily discard what they had, and so very nearly could have had. and not only that - crowley implies in his wording that, once again, whilst aziraphale is incredibly intelligent in some ways, he can also be phenomenally stupid (which turned out great the last time he said it).

aziraphale clearly tries to put a brave face on - school his expression, blink away the tears that are clearly gathering and brace his mouth against the trembling - and slap on the fakest, tightest, weakest smile. just before it switches to crowley, however, you can see the anger begin to set in; looking towards the ground, aziraphale seems like he's already given way to the feelings of disappointment and betrayal, and possibly even humiliation? that he's laid out his own heart - he thinks - so clearly, and it's being refused as if it's nothing.

now look, idk about anyone else watching this scene for the first time, but... my reaction to the part of this bit of dialogue was... not dissimilar to aziraphale's. after all of this emotional outpouring, both parties being hurt by the other, etc., it feels completely apropos of nothing for crowley to suddenly be asking if aziraphale can hear whatever he's meant to be hearing. aziraphale's reaction, to me, not only within character, but entirely reasonable; he's wound up, going through a thousand different emotions, and yet he's meant to be hearing... what? a car alarm? someone thumping out some drum and bass? of course aziraphale retorts testily, and agitatedly; they've just reached the end of an intense discussion and - as he sees it - the whimper end of six thousand years of being an 'us' in various capacities. he obviously isn't, but i can imagine that it would feel that crowley is trivialising what's just happened and, in aziraphale's shoes, i'd probably be a bit shitty - and subsequently bitchy - in my delivery too.

but of course - ha - we then get the suckerpunch of the nightingale line, and we feel the weight of it right alongside aziraphale. the poignancy and tragedy of what crowley is saying with this. there's been numerous of delicious metas regarding the motif or symbolism of the nightingale (personal favourite for me is the shakespearean link to the nightingale/lark in R&J), but in the context of the story? the context that both these characters presumably know and understand? we know about the end of s1, and it's suddenly apparent that the song was diegetic. that both of these characters recognise that the nightingale represents what they nearly - and did - have and accomplish by the end of s1.

there's no piano tinkling in the background, playing what we now understand is considered by both of them to be their song, (i still have very narrowed, suspicious eyes at 1941), to put them in a lovey-dovey mood... because this? right here? this isn't going to have a happy ending. calling attention to the sheer absence of it, figuratively speaking, only confirms for the both of them that whatever they did have - or were on the cusp of having - is gone.

moreso for aziraphale; it's abundantly clear when the finality of this hits him, evident in his dumbfounded expression that follows immediately after crowley says the line. and the way that crowley says it, how it could be perceived as incredibly nonchalant and casual (and for the audience absolutely betrays just how devastated crowley likely is in saying it), is evidently shocking for aziraphale; the notion that this is truly broken, this is done, and there is no coming back from it... and crowley already has a foot out the door already.

which is only hammered home with this:

idk, again, if this was the same for anyone else, but even upon first viewing, this felt acutely unfair. not only the idiot line, which as i've already alluded to seems to be a firm boundary for aziraphale (we'll get to 'i forgive you' in a minute huns, i promise), but the way that crowley very firmly places this whole thing upon aziraphale.

up until this point on first viewing, personally, i was content with appreciating that both of them had a good point; that their perspectives were so agonisingly polarising but had equal merit. but this does not all rest on aziraphale's shoulders; there isn't, to my mind, even any blame to assign in this whole sequence, but to my mind they are both equally accountable for the outcome. they cannot align their separate belief systems, can't align what they think is the right thing to do, but share the devastating want to be together. there's miscommunication, sure - but not enough that i think either leave each other not knowing that the other cares for them deeply. it's understandable why their paths have diverged, but both of them have been fighting for 'us' until this bitter end.

so, to then watch crowley essentially drop the blame for them not being together so squarely on aziraphale's shoulders was... frustrating, to say the least. that aziraphale is so firmly in the wrong, and that him being 'an idiot' is the only reason why they're not making out on the sofa and skipping into the metaphorical sunset right now. that - if we're being real here - if aziraphale had abandoned whatever he had considered to be the right thing to do, and followed crowley in what he wanted, what he considered right, that they'd have a future together (and that's not even taking into account the whole metatron-threat thing, but i hadn't reflected on that upon first watch).

i think the fact that crowley did this, frankly, is not lost on aziraphale. he certainly reacts accordingly; his face crumples minutely before he turns reflexively away - both away from crowley, and away from the metatron (because, lest we forget, he is still outside). it feels like what were web-like fractures spidering out across aziraphale have now suddenly cracked under the pressure, and the first piece has fallen. it makes sense that in this moment of actual physical vulnerability, something that aziraphale wasn't quick enough to school away and mask, he would turn from crowley to hide the hurt he's just handed him.

(lol are you ready bc i'm not)

sigh.

okay right; this is probably the only bit of the final fifteen sequence where, by large, my reaction to it has not changed. to be clear; i love the kiss for what it does narratively, and the delicious possibilities that it opens up in s3. i think the kiss, and their respective reactions within it, are perfectly in line with their characters. frankly, on the whole, i enjoy it for what it is.

lets start with the preceding bit, as a reminder; crowley's distraught, aziraphale's distraught, we're all distraught. crowley has said something that, to my mind, is quite frankly unfair, but understandable for him to say from his perspective. it's also the line that causes aziraphale to physically break, and he's turned away from crowley to hide himself and prevent crowley from seeing the hurt that it's caused him, the ensuing vulnerability. to my mind, by extension, aziraphale is now at a point where he thinks it's all over, that there's nothing to salvage, and that they're done. crowley certainly seemed to give that impression with his line about the nightingales, and "we could have been us."

aziraphale breaking, and turning away, evidently spurs something within crowley; that there does seem, somehow, to be some hope that aziraphale will stay, and so crowley immediately strides over to him. the thing is that after initially watching it, and then thinking on it a little more (and rewatched another six or so times), i... didn't get it? i didn't get what the point of it was. it seemed abundantly clear to the both of them that aziraphale wasn't going to change his mind, and neither was crowley (and tbh, neither of them should - and even if one of them did, it wouldn't erase the *waves around vigorously* everything that just happened), so what was the kiss meant to prove? what result was it meant to have?

it could be that there wasn't meant to be a result of any kind, that crowley was just outpouring his emotion in a make-or-break physical way. yes, absolutely, and i would think that (that it was a purely emotional action, not necessarily meant to do anything), but... when they break apart, crowley clearly appears to be waiting for something.

but i'll get to that in a minute; the point however seems to be it's aziraphale's break that kicks crowley into action. that he still has an 'in', and he can use it. aziraphale cracked, crowley sees a glimmer of hope, and does the most direct thing that comes to mind that would impress upon aziraphale just how desperate crowley is for him to change his mind.

i said in a meta a few months ago, god knows where it is now, that the whole interaction appears somewhat predatory - like, literally, in the animalistic sense. it's violent, and fast, and there's no room for discussion or manoeuvre in it; grab him by the lapels, drag him round, plant it on him, and hold him there. the dance and motion of it is almost serpentine in nature. of course, again, i absolutely recognise the desperation with which crowley is evidently acting, and there's no part of me that thinks that this is done out of anything but the most deep-seated, painful, aching love, but it's... still uncomfortable. i don't see any romance in this, personally, at all.

that doesn't diminish the romantic feelings fuelling it, however, but it's not the kind of kiss, i think, you would expect to see from someone intending to romance someone into remaining with them...? of course it's more than possible (a certainty really, depending on the hc; ymmv) that crowley has simply never kissed anyone before, and just simply doesn't know... what to do? and maybe that explains why he doesn't move, doesn't actually... do much of anything, whilst kissing aziraphale. but we know crowley has seen at least one stereotypically romantic film, and presumably has seen romantic kisses throughout history. so to me, it kinda begs the question of - if a typically-romantic, climactic, show-stopping snog wasn't the intention here, what was?

i put this in a photoset when the parallel had struck me, as they often do, at 2am; there was a huge emphasis played, in crowley and aziraphale's first truly meaningful encounter post-eden, on aziraphale's first temptation. something that he obviously enjoyed for millennia to come, and has a huge impact on him as an angel and as a person.

additionally, someone else posted at some point soon after s2 aired that the way aziraphale devours a whole bloody cow is reflective of the fact that, at the time, he didn't realise he was starving. apply this to the kiss, and we can imagine what kissing crowley would mean for him in turn. if aziraphale succumbed to the ox-rib temptation, and likely other temptations that followed afterwards, it would make sense that crowley might - might - resort to a similar method in getting him to stay, at a point when all else has failed, and crowley thinks he has no other option left.

i'm in two minds as to whether crowley meant the kiss, full-chest, to actually be a temptation (for me, it makes his characterisation even more nuanced and complex, so i'm largely on the side of it having been intentional, i'm afraid), but the way that he pulls back afterwards, and waits for the verdict, strongly suggests to me that it might have been.... waiting/hoping? for aziraphale to change his mind. that if it was a temptation, that he pulls away hoping that aziraphale will declare himself to remain on earth with crowley.

i realise the above may be a point of contention, and accept that - tbh, i just enjoy exploring the possibility. and even if crowley hadn't intended it that way, i think aziraphale certainly may have seen it that way (which again, for me, is in line with aziraphale's development starting in s1 with resisting crowley's insistence that he kill the antichrist etc.). but again i'm getting ahead of myself-

so wham, in with the kiss. aziraphale obviously reacts initially in shock (no, i don't think it's revulsion, but it's certainly surprise and likely a bit of the ole 'what the fuck'); he keeps his eyes open, his eyebrows drawn together in a frown, his posture is stiff, and his hands flail. but then... he melts into it. more than melts into it - he returns it. his eyes close, his face relaxes, and his hands come up, hesitantly and tentatively pressing into crowley's back. there does come a point during the kiss, however, where aziraphale's hands detach from crowley's back, and return to flitting around like he's unsure of what to do with them. at which point crowley finally releases him, and breaks the kiss.

a combination of aziraphale not physically pushing him away, and even proceeding to draw crowley in, with tenderness? to crowley, i can imagine he breaks the kiss hoping ever so slightly that whatever it was meant to be or convey - temptation, whatever - made aziraphale change his mind. that this last-ditch effort was enough to make aziraphale stay. he pulls back, and almost seems expectant of some kind of result.

aziraphale's immediate reaction, once the kiss breaks, is not so static. he falls back out of crowley's clenched fists, and his face takes to unadulterated heartbreak and despair, but ultimately seems to be rooted in panic...? shock? aziraphale also pointedly looking out towards the doors is telling, because i don't think it's wholly left his mind about who's waiting outside, and the position that he's now been put into - where he has to reconcile this really quite distressing experience with everything that has come before it.

by god does aziraphale cycle through some emotions here. he can't even look at crowley whilst he processes this maelstrom that's going on - sorrow, longing, confusion, and pure shock - and stumbles over his words trying, i think, to find the right ones to say. the kiss, i think, has very nearly done its job; aziraphale is clearly conflicted, but i think struggling to find a way to express that he wants this, but he still can't stay. trying to anchor himself to something, to a decision, that won't destroy himself or crowley in the process.

however, before he even gets that far, there is a really key moment where his expression abruptly changes, almost like he's realised something. in that moment, it's where he finally makes eye contact with crowley, and for an infinitesimal moment, aziraphale seems to eye him with something like... betrayal? disbelief? and that's where, unfortunately, i think the temptation element comes in, because i think aziraphale recognises it (or at least, thinks he does). and possibly recognises that, from aziraphale's perspective, crowley has resorted to something that he knows nearly always works on aziraphale, trying to force his hand into doing something that aziraphale has already expressed he will not - and presumably cannot - do.

but beyond that; i've said before whilst kisses do not feature in austen's literary works, aziraphale is hardly ignorant of the trope that a kiss - typically - in romantic fiction can carry weight as a declaration of love. has aziraphale ever idly wondered on what it would be like to have a first kiss with crowley? yeah, probably. but arguably what crowley has done is taken that - taken something that is precious, tender, meaningful, and cannot be taken back and redone - and turned it into something heartbreaking, possibly manipulative, and overall - frankly - something ugly.

aziraphale even gets a little smirk on, because in that moment i think he's genuinely angry at crowley... for any/all of the above. he seems so plainly resentful and appalled by what he thinks crowley was doing, thinking that aziraphale wouldn't see through it, and resorts to his textbook bitchiness in the guise of a sarcastic and sardonic smile. and even his body language - he exhales sharply in a small huff, his shoulders relax and his posture straightens, and he even bears his teeth slightly the smallest of snarls. and then, of course, he delivers the fatal blow of "i forgive you".

i know there have been a fair few interpretations of this line, and what aziraphale was saying with it. mine, personally, is very simple; this is how aziraphale can basically get away with telling crowley to go fuck himself. in s1, he says it in a way - responding to crowley's rather painful line about aziraphale being 'so clever, but so stupid' - that almost feels, on the surface, as if it's intended with benevolence and kindness... but is instead saying 'fuck you, that hurt. so i'm going to say this in return knowing it will hurt/annoy you in turn.'

and tbh, i don't think it's any different in this moment of the final fifteen sequence either. aziraphale is clearly hurt (once he delivers the line, you can see his face shift once again back into soft sorrow) and clearly angry. he is lashing out in a way befitting his 'bit (see: lot) of a bastard' streak, because he perceives it to be striking at something that resembles a weakness, or sore point, for crowley. it's also a clever insomuch that should anyone ever overhear him, he's being his devout angel self... but to him and crowley, it's absolutely a code that they both patently understand.

crowley then seems to just... accept that nothing has changed/it didn't work, and simultaneously rolls with the gut punch that was "i forgive you", like he's not even really surprised that aziraphale had that response to give him. he sighs, in a way that practically vocalises 'disappointed but not surprised', and succumbs to the inevitability of them not having (yet) the happy ending that he'd perhaps hoped. he turns, tosses "don't bother" over his shoulder, and leaves the shop.

i think "don't bother" could be taken multiple ways; if we accept that crowley actually knows the underlying subtext in "i forgive you", it could him saying, essentially, 'don't waste your breath, we're done/i'm going'. if he takes it literally, it could be 'i'm a demon, as you've so clearly pointed out, don't bother trying'... or 'i'm not sorry or asking for forgiveness, i did what i felt was right'.

last little bit before i close off here (i'll do an epilogue for the last bit of the sequence, up until credits roll; there's too much to try to squeeze into like two gifs and a couple of paragraphs):

when crowley leaves, aziraphale most obviously looks desperate himself, panicked, and heartbroken... i'm even somewhat sure that he's about to call crowley's name, or a simple "no" (this bit is next on my 'lipread' list) and stops himself. his lip pouts, he's breathing heavily, and whilst - by god - his eyes are a watery mess throughout the entire sequence, this is probably as close as he gets to shedding actual tears. there's still some residue confusion, like 'what the fuck just happened, that's not how that was supposed to go'.

it's clear that aziraphale is generally distressed, and he certainly looks this way... just before the point that his hand raises to his lips. the way it's so shaky, and hesitant, the wide-eyed, shocked stare before rapidly blinking, perhaps both in disbelief and also to rid himself of the tears building? and then, whilst his fingers are almost trying to imprint the kiss even more, he lowers them and reveals his face stiffening into a sneer (jaw and nose tightens, eyes become more hooded, eyebrows draw together).

now, i'm in two minds as to who this sneer is directed at - is it at crowley, because of the same reasons he may have said 'i forgive you'? or is it at metatron, for putting him in this position in the first place? honestly, i think it's the former; aziraphale seems to have almost all but forgotten the metatron, and his reaction to metatron returning to the bookshop would support that. his head turns so quickly to the door when it opens, and that hope and surprise quickly disappears when he realises it's not crowley... turns away, most likely to wipe his eyes (even possibly his mouth), before turning back to the metatron to answer as to crowley's reaction.

which - and i'll leave off with this, because it'll follow neatly into the epilogue post - seems odd. metatron has presumably seen crowley come out of the shop, and even if they don't exchange a look, let alone words, he can clearly surmise that negotiations went a bit sour if crowley has left without aziraphale... if it wasn't obvious by now, it's seems to be a very blatant, and yet artfully delivered ploy. whether the motive was to separate them out of fear/trepidation, or just simply get aziraphale back in heaven under his thumb without crowley's influence, it's clear that the metatron never intended - nor thought it plausible - that crowley would agree to return to heaven. his next lines certainly cement that thought, and i think might have registered to aziraphale too.

i'll be back at some point ciao

#good omens #feral domestic/final fifteen meta #metatron spec #aziraphale meta

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dissociativemagicalgirl · 1 year

Text

thinking further on my response and i do think CDDs can be a spectrum more than clear cut diagnostic criteria. like just in general. like just from what ive observed & what im reading (currently working on the haunted self!) i think theres a lot of overlap in symptoms between DID, OSDD, and even C-PTSD & BPD, which makes it harder to draw a line on whether certain presentations count as one disorder or another

it's an added layer of difficulty that theres so many different ways CDDs can present. i feel like every system i meet and every system i read about has its own unique ways of presenting, which im assuming is because it's a complex series of adaptations to very specific stimuli & circumstances. but like the variance in peoples' lived experiences makes it hard to make blanket statements about systems (or even like, alter archetypes, for example)

like theres just so many ways a system can look. some people know about their alters as early they can remember & experienced them as imaginary friends or voices. some people go 20, 30+ years without realizing theyre a system at all. theres polyfrag systems with layers upon layers of subsystems and complicated inner workings. theres people whose alters have only a passing awareness of each other. and so on. Individuals might share a diagnostic label, but there might be little overlap in how they experience being a system

anyways This is a lot of rambling that's straying into different territories.. sorry my mind may not be all here LOL

at it's core we are all experiencing various levels of structural dissociation ... unity 🤝

#borderline #i think changing diagnoses and/or comorbidity is common for us. So im not terribly concerned on whos using the 'right label'#When really diagnostic criteria arent set in stone. my perspective on this is probably at least partially informed by my experiences #being in the mental health system for a very long time & going through Most of the DSM-V LOL..#in i hate you dont leave me. my copy is at my parents' house so i cant double check #But towards the beginning there's a list of how BPD has a lot of overlap with like. Most other disorders #i remember the phrase that BPD seems like it's on the of everything else #& i would not be surprised if other disorders related to complex trauma were similar as well - in that they can easily mask as other #disorders. & theres naturally going to be a lot of overlap with many other disorders #This went off topic but ^_^ if anyone has anything to say on the matter feel free to add on. not sure what the point of all this is LOL

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elviraaxen · 5 months

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im new here, so im sorry if this is a question youve answered before but tumblr's search bar failed me in finding this to be previous answered but.. uhmmm

c... can we make ocs/personas for Felt World? or would you rather we not or we hold off until further in?? bc i would love to make a puppet give our cowboy a smooch before he is, i assume bc he is a fucking catch and a half, taken off the market in canon lol i assume he wont still be single by the end. im a tad bit too embarrassed to ever post such drawings, but i wanted to know in case i ever did become brave enough to make them public if such you would be welcome to be tagged in or if that would make you feel uncomfortable

and also, for that purpose: as someone with disabilities, im really curious how disabilities are translated into Felt World? obviously not all of them, that'd take forever. but i was curious if they use mobility aids just like ours or if they use ones we could not have (an example of what i mean could be like "seal-chairs" in "Witch Hat Atelier"? they are chairs with hooves that run and jump, as opposed to wheels). and i know you said music is really powerful in this world, in both singing and instruments, but i wanted to also ask how in a world with so much focus on sound are the deaf/hard of hearing accomadated? deaf/HoH people can still play instruments, obviously (the most famous example being Beethoven), but i meant other than that

(also, if i recall accurately you once said that "the puppets have to speak to be considered sentient beings"? i was wondering if in the future could that be amended to "have to be able to communicate"? because i assume nonverbal puppets would still exist, as well as puppets who just dont speak much (whether thats a facet of deafness or nonspeaking shutdown or just a quiet personality). or would that break Felt World's world-building's logic in some way? that's a genuine question. i wasnt sure how to word it in a way that would minimize the risk of one being put on their back-foot, but i tried my best, it really is a genuine question)

(also, because i never like to assume fluency in disability-knowledge: if you need a resource on media portrayals of disability at any point, i highly recommend the youtuber, Oakwyrm. they do a lot of really cool analysis videos on disability. i do apologize if i am overstepping, and you are already largely fluent in disabled portrayals in media and/or already aware of Oakwyrm's existence. i just like to shout at least one resource out because i know many people have no idea where to look to learn more about general disability representation advice and whatnot. you do not have to watch their videos if you do not want to ♡)

also a bit of a tangent, idk if this is just a "for now" aspect of Donna due to her adjusting or if this is a core pillar of her personality but... just, thank you for making a feminine character who cries a lot and is emotional with Big Feelings. ive always felt more connected to the Dorthy Gales, Cinderellas, Clarisse de Cagliostros kind of heroines who are a bit of a "damsel in distress" (tho i do think that term reduces a lot of their agency and bravery) and i feel a bit lonely that we dont see many emotional-vitality-driven heroines who need some help as much as badass heroines or sassy heroines, both of whom are fully capable of getting shit sone alone. makes my cry-baby disabled ass feel a little pathetic (im very physically weak because of my chronic health issues, and am the type of Autistic ADHDer who is very sensitive to getting big feelings), even tho i know those types of heroines are valid and needed. i resonate a lot with AJR's lyric about "But I'm weak. And what's wrong with that?" even though i know im taking it out of context

and im sure Donna will prove herself capable of being on her own and having her own agency, same as all the heroines ive listed, i dont assume she will be stagnant, but i just wanted to really thank you for making a character that i relate to. i dont get that often. it makes me feel a bit abnormal and strange, and i mean moreso than the "well youre neurodivergent and sickly" kind of abnormal that would be implied. like. Weird Kid sitting alone at lunch kind of strange. so its really cool to see Donna and feel less lonely, is what im saying. i wish there were more heroines like her for people like me nowadays, rather than the archetype being reduced to "archiac stereotypes" (which i both do and dont understand the logic of. it depends on context and the example given) and therefore shelving a type of heroine we dont see in a lot of contemporary media (in exchange for a heroine we didnt get to see often (if at all) in past media, the sassy and badass ones, i do get it, and im glad theyre being used more as they should have always been. there are a select few of both camps that feel like "women have to be as stereotypically masculine as possible to be worthy of being called 'a strong character'" when i think strong characters have less to do with personality and more to do with "do they direct the narrative's plot? do they have agency?". but i could be wrong about that and i am getting off-topic)

but yeah. just. overall: thank you for introducing Donna to be like she is. it means a lot to me to see a heroine like her in contemporary media. im really excited to see what youll do next ♡ but yeah, i know im babbling a lot here and you dont need to reply to this half, i just really wanted to stress my thanks and WHY you have my thanks ♡♡♡ i really appreciate having Donna sit at my metaphorical lunch-table with me, even if she has to go sit somewhere else later. its been really nice to be beside her

thank you ♡

ps. i wasnt sure how to format this Ask because i know some people like to have each section have their own Ask for compartmentalizing/tag-organization reasons, but others like it all to be together so they know its all from one person as opposed to the anxiety of "ahh why did i get so many Asks all at once, did i do something wrong, do people hate me-- oh. its fine. i went through that rollercoaster for nothing. dear lord, am i drained now". so i tend to rather assume the latter, just in case; but do feel free to screenshot and section these out into their own posts if you are the former, i wont mind if youd rather do that ♡ have a nice day!!

Oh my goodness what a long message!!! 0.0!!

I had to take a few hours to think about everything to make sure I answered everything. But I should start off by showing my gratitude for the amount of time and effort you put into formulating this! So thank you, this was a really cool ask to receive <3

As for OCs, absolutely you can! I've already had a few who've made theirs, and I have no rules at all when it comes to shipping or self inserts or anything, as long as everyone is being respectful towards each other ^^

As for the disability aspect, I have a few key points that I want to explore in regards to especially deafness and muteness (is it called that? muteness?), but that's further along the story and will be introduced later! Also how song vs instruments work in this world is a part of the lore itself that'll be explained further down the line too, so no need to worry about our fellow mute or deaf/hoh peeps!

I have of course thought about mobility aids and other disability accommodations (because they can be born with defect, illnesses, and be injured pretty much like us, their bodies are a bit more fantastical but there are still rules) but i must admit didn't think further other than to give them similar mobility aids that we use. But clearly it would make more sense to make something more fantastical! I'll give it a thought! That's probably gonna be a fun design exercise ^^

I'm not sure if I can answer the entire ask in a way that does it justice, it's quite frankly the coolest message I've gotten, I'm gonna try and not let it get to my head (lol),

but i'm so glad you and seemingly many others seem to like Donna and appreciate her specifically for being sensitive and reacting strongly. It shouldn't be but it's really daunting to write female leads because as we know people just don't like women in media generally, but I eventually just got over it because I realized I was starting to write a character that demanded the audience cared and respected, rather than showing a story that I had fun telling, in a world worth exploring.

And not to spoil but I've already decided I do not want Donna to go through an arc where she's forced to abandon her emotions or go through something physically traumatic in order to "become tough" to be respected, that's not only overdone but lame and harmful wish fulfillment. So no worries in that department!

But anyways, I don't think I can properly say how appreciative I am of this ask!!! It really warms my heart that you and other people are going out of your way to send me asks about my little story that I came up with on a whim!!! It's truly the best compliment as a creator.

#long post #asks

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