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sorenblr · 1 year

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What is your opinion on the sexual cutscenes of FF16? I think a similar question was previously asked about Triangle Strategy and it seemed rather forced for the sake of pretending to be a more mature story, when FFT didn't rely on the explicitly sexual content to tell a mature story.

(This ask and the response are based on information that has been available as early as the demo and shouldn't contain any spoilers for the full game).

I don't mind a good sex scene and find the strangely puritanical reaction against sex depicted in film and television to be one of the most alien and frustrating discourses in recent years, but in this case it just seems to be the natural consequence of Yoshi P. demanding that his team watch the fucking GoT box-set:

...We wanted to create something that really resonated with a lot of people. And when we saw how Game of Thrones, and before that the Song of Ice and Fire series, has really resonated with players, we knew that this was something that we wanted to do as well. When we first started creating the game, we had our core team of about 30 members very early on buy the blu-ray boxset of Game of Thrones and required everyone to watch it, because we wanted this type of feel.

Game of Thrones made a lot of people a lot of money, and we thought to ourselves, boy, we would also like some of that money.

A larger distinction is that GoT features real actors who are, you know, people, and so it's not terribly embarrassing to see them stripped and smashing their shit together or jacking off or whatever. FFXVI, according to the aesthetic preference of an entire industry, is populated by uncanny digital homunculi only crudely approximating the appearance of real people with the animating force of God's breath filling their lungs. I don't anticipate that FFXVI will have full-bore, hog-out ramming or anything- I assume it's just a lot of post-coital sideboob, maybe a glimpse of Clive's weird little ass here and there- but in this presentational mode it would play closer to comedy if you're not catastrophically addicted to Overwatch porn.

There is a reason the camera would always cut away before Kratos starts fucking. You don't want to see that shit. You think you want to see it, but you don't want to see it. Do you expect to profit by seeing what David Jaffe in his wisdom has obscured from our eyes? This isn't In the Mood for Love. A color pencil rendering by some chronically masturbating teenage fan submitted to EGM in 2006 would be more stimulating than whatever these games are capable of showing you. You don't need to see Kratos' stroke game. You haven't even earned the right.

Beyond the unintended aesthetic effect of these things, I don't really trust this team to incorporate that influence in a meaningful or considered way, based on what I've seen of the game thus far. It extends to the 'epic medieval violence' and the prolific use of 'fuck'. I love fuck like a brother so please understand when I say that this is an incredibly remedial deployment of the term. The fuck sauce is not imitable. You simply have it or else it'll never be yours. A decade of stewarding radically PG-13 MMO quest dialogue has closed off the way to that place for Michael-Christopher Koji Fox.

And the insistent comparisons to Matsuno's oeuvre from the fanbase, often as a defensive appeal to legitimacy wherever the GoT influence is noted, are bordering on the absurd. Vaguely medieval politicking was apparently the only mark of his work that ever found purchase in people's minds, and none of the particular aesthetic, aural, or tonal distinctions that made those games living and vital. I don't expect that this game will have a meaningful resonance with those works except that people will be furious when the narrative inevitably ends with Clive facing off against some sort of ogre or deity instead of late medieval Karl Rove. But I also don't expect I'll have anything meaningful to share on the matter until I've seen for myself if it's as blandly imitative as it all seems. I mean, it's at least coming from an incredibly cynical place, as evinced in the quote above.

I don't have $650 USD burning a hole in my pocket at the moment, but I would love to be proven wrong whenever I have the chance to play it in like, late 2024. I similarly thought that FFXV looked totally insipid but then found it very affecting. Combat is an easy sell as one of the last living "character-action guys". You can use 'Stinger', that's good. There's a cooldown on the launcher? What the fuck is wrong with these people? It's probably still pretty good.

final fantasy sex thoughts postscript: they should make FFX-3 but it's about wakka and he always has one nut hanging out of his shorts and every 15 minutes he tucks it back in and says "sorry 'bout that brudda" to no one in particular but then it just immediately falls back out. also he's racist against al-bhed again

#ask #final fantasy #final fantasy xvi #ffxvi #god of war #kratos #game of thrones #posts that smell like low tide at the pier

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impeccablebackside · 7 months

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kinda like the thought of giving the queens a bit more "casual" cuddling during sex. like i imagine plato just giving his vicky some soft scraching behind her ears while he's also inside of her. the doubled pleasure causes her eyes to roll back, and she starts to purr. it'll also make them feel safe and even more comfortable with their partners. cuddling sometimes is just everything. but simultaneously with fucking? ...hell yipedi-yeah!

Thank you so much for this ask anon. While I have never really talked about it beyond one post, cuddling during sex is something that I think would be a really great thing (to put it lightly). That sort of sensation / sensual play holds a lot of good promise and is incredibly underrated. Anything that can elicit shivers of joy is wonderful.

I love the idea of some good ear attention or scalp / neck massage type secondary stimulation to go alongside the primary stimulation of being fucked. I am not sure if you know (but I am thinking that you do given the wording of your ask - so thanks again anon), but scalp massages or gentle scratching end up being very relaxing yet stimulating. It would cause Vic to be almost zoned out and in on each bit of attention she is gettting from her mans. Relaxed, but focused on all the pleasure, riding out the bliss in the most arresting of ways. Separately, the differing types of attention are welcomed, and together they combine and elevate the other. It would definitely border on being overwhelming once the waves of her orgasm start hitting her, with much more force than other situations would typically produce. The eyes rolling back is literally what I picture in my mind anon. We share similar thoughts it seems.

Even on the flip side, I am also all for delicate stimulation when a tom is jerking it or getting fucked. I know I would absolutely freaking melt with any form of butterfly kiss or gentle touch regardless of situation. I have a soft spot for super personal and intimate things like that. If I am in a 'vulnerable' position, I would likely shoot off and quiver at such light, but compelling attention. It would be so revelatory. I think Plato would be in the same boat. It is not the amount of non-sexual stimulation, but rather simply the meaningful attention he would get from Vic. Any sort of focus on him by the white queen gets him weak to begin with. I think him jerking himself while Vic sits behind or beside him, giving him sweet kisses and whispering in his ear is a semi-frequent occurrence to some degree. I even wrote a very short post about it. Even in other fics, I have dropped in mentions of neck or ear nibbling, headpats / caressing, or ear rubbing. While they are never a big focus at all, they all contribute a bit to making the character feel even more special.

Even just as part of aftercare, cuddling and sensual touches are so perfect between Vic and Plato. Both of them are quite spent after they are finished fucking one another's brains out and serving their souls some good pleasure. Vic takes time to clean herself to return to the prim and proper queen she embodies, making sure her fur is back in order. Plato usually sits quietly contemplating after, mostly because his mind is still levelling off from what he experienced. However, he always helps to clean her off once he floats back down to earth, and spends extra time cleaning her headfur because he cannot help kissing her over and over again.

Whether it be pre- or post- sex, they both absolutely love the quiet time spent cuddling with one another. It fills both of them with an euphoria that they cannot get any other way. After the short time when they are both idle catching their breaths, Vic turns to watch Plato, who is always looking at her with a smitten love blazed across his face. Being appreciated by someone else in such a close physical relationship makes Vic feel so special and safe. Particularly, Plato giving her head pats and rubbing her face makes her melt, and all the stress she holds is beautifully unwound. Attention to her ears and the fur under eyes comforts Vic, and she gets always gets sleepy. Sweet, affectionate kisses between the two of them alongside this elevate the aura of love. Curled up together with her man is her favourite place to be, and after sex they drift off wholly content and wrapped in the warmth of each others arms. It really is a beautiful thing.

You are definitely correct anon, cuddling and embracing is oftentimes everything, regardless of if it involves sex or not. Very little is as rewarding as simply belonging to someone else. Knowing that you belong so wholeheartedly to the positive essence and energy of another, no matter the context, is part of what inspires my idea of romanticism. To be truly in love is to possess that level of interconnectedness where you are not whole without someone else. To bridge the physical contact between two people and become one, sharing in the warmth and embrace of another is superb. To conflate the emotions and desire of two people into a miasmic haze of love (and lust) is truly a premise of immense joy. The closeness, specifically the innate intimacy where two people can connect in such powerful way, seems like it would be the ultimate end-goal. Potentially more than any sort of sexual satisfaction.

#i fucking love their relationship anon it is the closest thing to perfection I could ever surmise #(and I want to know what it is like so badly it hurts some days to be honest)#if you have more thoughts about them or even thoughts about another queen getting cuddled let me know please #thanks immensely anons for all the asks in the past couple of months #they are all truly appreciated #there have been some real good questions in them too

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sunderedandundone · 2 years

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Possibly controversial [Dark Crystal SkekGra/UrGoh] HCs

Or I don't even know if it IS HC so much as kind of an inverse HC, in that it's a place where like 90% of the fandom seems to HC in stuff that I don't? Here we go. Please be gentle. As always, I pledge to the flag of #AllHCAreValid.

I think Gra and Goh are incredibly lonely out there in the desert, and aren't at all enjoying that aspect of their lives.

I mean, I would hope this WOULDN'T be that controversial? After all, these are characters whose very titles establish that they like to go around Thra and interact with all its lifeforms and stuff (the *form* the interaction took might've varied, but...)

And when the Gelfling show up on their doorstep, Gra is more hype than a golden retriever puppy. Mind you, we can and should attribute part of this to drugs, and part of this to the sheer pleasure of knowing one's many-trine-long shop projects were not wasted and the Hail Mary pass to save Thra and make themselves whole has finally connected.

But even given that, they just seem SO super hyped that I have to think that, y'know, birb who's had no or very little social stimulation in hundreds of trine miiiight feel a little relieved to be entertaining company. :-)

The only reason I even 'worry' this is controversial is because so many fanficcers -- and I mean from the really-great to the not-so-great -- seem to treat the half an Age the two spend at the Circle of the Suns like...almost a couples getaway? A blessed idyll? And they do this with such light, offhanded assurance, as though it's one of those things of which the Dothraki say, It Is Known.

Again, #ALLHCAREVALID, but I personally find this difficult to get...*as* someone who's been gifted with what I well know is the sheer dumb cosmic luck of living many many years with my True Love, or what's surely within a degree of the closest to true love as exists on mortal earth. Like, I am exceedingly, eternally grateful.

It's just that...and I hope I'm not bursting the bubble here...even the Truest love is still hard work, it won't last if you don't work it, and even if you really really do it can still end. And no matter how goopy goo-goo eyes y'all are in the relationship's first stages, eventually everybody but the most intro introverts is going to find that the company of one person is just not enough to make a livable life out of. It just isn't. I heartily wish each and every person who actually desires a True Love in this life to acquire one -- but just know that it's not like in the movies. It's not even going to be easier than your other less-epic relationships were. Maybe in some ways harder, in fact.

It'll just be more *worth* the agony.

Even that, you might sometimes doubt. But in the end there's something hard to describe that still makes it worth it. That's the main difference I've discerned. <--[[NB: *Does not* apply to abusive lovers]]

Being forever out in the neverwhere alone with your love for an indefinite period isn't a recipe for wedded bliss. It's a recipe for driving yourselves and each other to drink. Ask like 2/3rds of retired couples, especially the ones where one or both partners were working outside the house AND (points at this and points AT SKEKGRA) deriving their identity from their work -- and then suddenly......not.

Once more, #ALLHCAREVALID and I have seen this trope written beautifully and I have enjoyed reading those beautiful pieces, but strictly from a suspending-disbelief standpoint just...no. Also I have to admit, something in me rebels at the idea that NOTHING of what the Skeksis (AND Mystics, in my telling) go out of their way to make an *especially painful* punishment is really -- sticking around in any meaningful way. That they're just like "oh welp, like we care, what more to life is there than making puppets, smokin' that crack, and each other." To me, it kinda cheapens the sting of the whole banishment, and I feel like it should have ongoing sting. The nail is NOT self-installed, and the exile is NOT a blissful retirement to the Bahamas.

On that note:

2. I seem to be one of the very few people in the fandom who doesn't ship them in the *traditional* sense, either.

I mean, I know. It's fandom. Fandom seems, from this relative newb's perspective, to be ~70% about sex no matter what the IP. :-) So I shouldn't be surprised to find myself in a minority.

And a minority many of whose fellow occupants I find odious because a lot of them are in the "no homo" school, or else the school of "Henson was a nonsexual, anerotic, angelic being who would've been SCANDALIZED by people writing sex scenes with his characters, even though he gave the Jen puppet an entirely extraneous wang AND started *The Dark Crystal* with an Edenic scene of nude Jen saved from an R rating *only* by a literal strategically-placed leaf." Like, just in case any parents in the audience needed the warning that this was not a small-kids, fluffy movie. ^^ (Funny thing is, I took it totally in stride as a kid watching it in the theater run. It was only on rewatch as an adult that I was like "HOLY SHIT was Henson making a statement with this, and oh God no *wonder* this quasi-flopped, people surely must have thought this was weird and Inappropriate for Children -- even though I of course still think it isn't.")

Yeah, nah. Are you kidding me? This is a puppeteer who grew up in the *40's/50's in Mississippi* and then ran off to TVLand in the 60's to eventually make tons of money off his weirdness. OF COURSE HE WAS A FREAK, and you know what? I find that wonderful news. (Bro, have you even heard the Frank Oz funeral-eulogy story? *QE fucking D*.)

But then when I go to explain that I don't conceive of Gra/Goh as a conventional romance but as something that kinda transcends any experience us single beings can know, other fen think that I am dissing Mere Romance and Mere Sex as being beneath me, or beneath the characters. Again -- hell no. Good, believable, stirring romance and sex are hard as hell to write and my respect for those who can do it is very high. And romance and sex IRL? They are awesome. Five stars. <3

I'm just saying these are literally personality-instanced aliens, is all.

I am officially agnostic, though I have my private opinions subject to change without notice, about whether Skeksis/Mystics have any kind of reproductive equipment. Or anything like what modern humans consider 'erotic' feelings (physical or mental). There are valid cases for and against. And although I don't personally write such content, I don't object to the depiction of erotic or sexual activity between Gra/Goh either. Hell, IF they had the slightest capacity for it and they thought for one single instant it might help them rejoin into their UrSkek, I think it's safe to assume they 'd try it at least once for that reason alone.

I just want the dyad to be something beyond that. And again, I don't mean beyond as in superior. I mean beyond as in Other, as in alien, as in behind a paywall very few other beings can get through in their mortal lifetime. And yes, as in spiritual -- though for a third time, I'm not parsing 'spiritual' as 'better than affairs of the mere flesh.'

And I try very hard to make sure I write it *as* that -- to make sure that I'm not just doing a deep platonic friendship (as wonderful as those are) or a 'brotherly' relationship, but putting in material that sorta blurs the very boundary of the self, the definition of personality, the idea that a person can only be in one place at a time.

As I go, in fact, it's developed almost toward an idea of the Skeksis and Mystic personas being *masks* or *roles*, on some fundamental level -- a self-illusion that each half occasionally, disconcertingly, briefly becomes aware of here and there, but then almost always panics and buries. I'm talking about, you could have one of those Shakespearian SkekVar/SkekSo scenes going, and all of a sudden poor SkekVar realizes that NONE of this is actually the General talking to the Emperor at all -- it's *VarMa talking to SoSu*. Only for some bizarre dream-logicky reason, they're wearing these weird faces and playing these weird murderbird characters...almost like they're onstage in a play they somehow can't opt out of acting in. And when they want to relate to the others of their kith, somehow, it can only ever be through the filter of this mask. So they're never saying what they truly want to say to the other Twice-Nine, or even usually thinking what they want to think; instead, the *best* they can ever do is grope blindly toward each other's souls, trying to interpret the hazy signal of the other Ur/Skek through this noise of these adopted personae -- and why bother because it's all fake anyhow -- but then if it's fake, why is it all they know, and nothing they can seem to escape from?

And *that* would within about 3/4ths of a second be FAR too much for a simple birb like SkekVar to deal with. So the most signal you'd ever get from them that it'd even happened is merely ::snort:: :-D And pretty soon the episode of ego-vertigo would dissipate -- drowned in the bodily experience of the normal persona with extreme prejudice aaand probably a lot of food and booze. ^^ There'd still be mysterious moments in which, however many leagues apart, Var and Ma would briefly seem not like 'opposites' but like a resonant pair, almost as if they had some shared nature and path after all...this is something, though, that only the very few who get to see both sides (*such* as Gra and Goh --or perhaps on the longer scale, Aughra) might have any inkling of.

See what I mean though? It's hard to even articulate! Because it kinda should be, I guess. :-D I guess that's my point.

Again, #ALLHCAREVALID! This is simply what *I* *me* *personally* want to do with the opportunity that the divided-soul trope in DC represents. I enjoy giving Gra and Goh these experiences of disrupted self within my fiction. (Btw, apparently LSD &c primarily work THROUGH disrupting the part of the brain responsible for a sense of distinct self :-( #Imjustsayin #urdrupes)). And I enjoy looking through their eyes to see the selves of the other UrRu/Skeksis -- showing the personalities of the latter to be blurrier and more self-contradictory than one would have thought, as well.

And then, by contrast, the fleeting moments where Gra/Goh do experience something close to full unity -- be it achieved by a vision or a dream or let's be honest drugs -- would be way more intense to them than what you or I could possibly experience. Us being people who get to just blithely go about all day sure of our unified self, at least 99% sure of where the border between us and the rest of *idam*, this thing, All There Is, lies. (The other 1% is called either "satori" or "hallucinogenic therapy"/"ayahuasca experience"/etc. :-) )

We aren't without our times of not being sure who the hell we are or which of two completely incompatible things we want, of course. Which is why UrSkeks and the divided-soul trope writ large have relevance to human experience. We all have our times. But most of us don't have it often enough to even come close to fucking up our faaairly comfortable everyday sense of "I am this person and this is what I'm about." :-) These tree aliens are a different matter.

So it's not a problem with romance at all? ...It's more a devotion to the idea of the Otherness and alienness of the thing, because I personally feel like that's what Henson and definitely Froud were kinda trying to get at with the UrSkeks, and with what is eventually big-Revealed about the Skeksis and Mystics' true nature. (I remember that moment, too, in the theater. It was my first encounter with the trope and it was a bit mind-blowing. Like, that method of resolving protagonist/antagonist conflict in a story had honestly never occurred. ...I do have the excuse of being, what, nine or so? :-D But still. Striking. And I liked it.)

Anyway. Seemingly unusual, possibly controversial, hopefully not of such a nature though as to get anyone actually mad. ^^

#dark crystal theories #dark crystal #tdcaor #skesis #mystics #urru #skekgra #urgoh #fanfic #heretic #wanderer #HC #headcanon #writing #AllHCAreValid #seriously #I love reading y'all's stuff I promise #urskeks #gragoh

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kafkaoftherubble · 3 months

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📷 🌸🙃

Whoa. I didn't expect an ask at all, but an anonymous one? I thought I specifically said I'm too boring to be asked so why are you, O Mysterious Grey Face, acting like a rebel

📷 What’s set as your phone’s lockscreen?

This is supposed to be my placeholder lock screen. I like these two, I love watercolor art, but most of all, it combines two of my favorite things: "ghosts" and "lotuses." I kinda derived my own meaning from what this picture could be about and resonated with it, which is stupid, because of course you'd resonate with the meaning you yourself derived, you dumbass 😂

It's meant to be a placeholder because I was kinda waiting... for a picture. Maybe it'll be a permanent placeholder—oxymoronic for sure, but that's the way I like it. liMINAlitY!

---

Oh, it's not part of the question at all, but I do kinda like seeing pictures in my own text, so I'll show you Zelda's (the tablet) lock screen too.

Its lock screen actually changes after a certain period, so right now, it's this:

It's drawn by Loputyn, from her Aether artbook. To be fair, I found this on Pinterest.

🙃 What’s a weird fact that you know?

The brain is not a perceiving or sensory machine, but a predicting one. Your reality is constructed by your brain from memories, you see.

Your sensory organs are actually used to calibrate the accuracy of your brain's effort, and the brain's job is to quickly correct any error in its prediction whenever your sensory organ perceives one—and it has to do it before you notice it, or before that error costs you.

In other words, reality—to us—is more of a controlled hallucination than an objective observation. There is a real world out here, for sure. That's what you and I try really hard to perceive, as correctly as we can. That's what scientists are trying to capture and record.

But reality is actually quite conventional!

(It's not really a weird fact though, is it? Facts aren't weird. We just didn't expect them to turn out one way, so we think it's weird and have our self-stimulated feelings to back up our thoughts, innit?)

🌸 Best compliment you ever received?

Hmm... There's always a new one to succeed a previous Best Compliment though! Hahhahaha!

I tend not to decide what "the best" compliment might be because

that compliment was for that Lyndis, not the version of this person right now. For example, one of my past versions has been praised for being a "tantalizing orator," but the "me" right now is less likely to reach that height of skill instantly. My brain has already been wired differently from back then!

I treat compliments as responses to my actions, so a compliment is the "best" only when coupled with that context in the past. Looking back right now would make the compliment a nice piece of memory, but ultimately a lot less meaningful in the present.

I forgot that compliment ever existed.

.....

........

.............

... What? You're still waiting for an answer, anon? Seriously?! DIDN'T I JUST PHILOSOPHIZE MY WAY OUT?! COME ON!

Goddamn it. Fine! It's... "Guilt is a fine motivator. However you want to put it, if you weren't kind then I don't think you would feel guilty."

Don't ask me who said that. That's classified information.

#a piece to the rubble #Somehow. Someone Asked.#hey anon I'm a wee bit curious about who you are、 to be honest #but you don't have to reveal yourself ahahha. I'm just bewildered to be noticed、 's all #it's not because I wanna counter-ask you as revenge or something. I promise.#Also I warned you that my answer is boring. And weird. As in boring-weird. Not “cool-weird.”#Look at you paying for your insolent defiance. Heedless of my warning.

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askfallenroyalty · 3 years

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I don't think you did anything wrong. When a story is being written, there are a lot of different ways to adress and express something and maybe that's why you're being misunderstood. I think there are just too many things to adress in this story that maybe some people will get when these things are implicitly implied and some people will not. So when a breaking point comes, they'd think it came out of nowhere. You can see this with the amount of asks you receive asking you often the same thing.

Does that mean it's wrong? Ofc not! I myself was a little bit confused with Frisk's reactions and conduct in general until you explained it in your recent asks, and I thought man, that was what I was missing!

Now, yes I believe some parts of the story could have been explained in a different way, because in my opinion there's a lot to read between the lines. If you don't try to understand the characters, you'll clearly be confused as hell. But that's why I love this story! As you said before, there's nothing meant to be black/white coded, and I really appreciate the world and the character's complexity in general. You don't have some of the answers in hand, an that's when you have to analize! (At least that's what I do haha)

I also really felt like telling you something I've been relating to, so I'm putting the respectives tw if someone doesn't want to keep reading (TW: Suicide mention).

In the DW Arc, when the Christmas and Feylow stuff happened, I realised through Chara that I was doing the exact same thing with a friend of mine. He was going through a lot of stuff, and tried to commit suicide multiple times. I was focusing a huge amount of energy on him because I was afraid to lose him, and when he suddenly stopped talking to me so he could take a break, I felt really lost. Because he was the person I talked with the most, one of my dearest friends, and the idea of losing him and not being there to stop it made me insanely anxious, because that used to be the situation most of the times. Now it's been a year since he's stopped talking to me, and I don't exactly know the reason. But I couldn't keep running behind someone who didn't seem to keep wanting me around. And if it wasn't for you, I couldn't have realized how much this was hurting me.

And now, as much as it hurts me to see him acting this distant and cold with me, I'm okay with it. I really am. Because I now have the tranquility to see him continue, even when things are not okay. I can't force a friendship and I really needed to understand that back then. I trust him as much as he trusts me.

I really wanted to thank you for writing this story because it has helped me in a way I didn't expect, and I'm sure it will help a lot of people too! I'm even learning from your way of taking and discussing things haha.

I just wanted you to have this tranquility I have with this story because I trust it'll work out and explain itself once it's finished. And I just can't express how thankful I am to be reading your story.

Thank you again,

I'm looking forward to more of your work and please, take care! Don't stop doing what you enjoy! 🦋

putting it under a readmore because of how long the ask/response is, sorry!

i’m at a loss of words because wow, this ask really hit in a way i’ve never really could of anticipated. when writing AFR, i write a story about things I felt. I’ve been Chara, I’ve been Asriel and Frisk at points in my life. I write because I need to tell their stories and make it real, specifically for my own sake of getting through my own pain and to tell the world this is who i am and that I will be ok, there is hope in this world. It’s a selfish desire for me, but ultimately that’s what art is i feel. I couldn’t draw this much and put so much time and effort into something without it being meaningful or personal.

but art is communication, and when I write to be seen and to be heard, I know there’s others who are reading and are connecting with the work. (otherwise, I wouldn’t be getting asks right? its a lonely process, i forget there’s the second half of the equation -you guys) and i’ll do my best to make sure people are accommodated and can experience this story without hurting in a way that’s past enjoying a emotionally gripping piece of media. i don’t want people to be upset or hurt for my work, and I want to ensure I can make this without hurting others.

I try to leave a lot of ambiguity and room for people to interpret stories and I don’t mind people missing the point or interpreting things vastly differently than what I intended. that’s fine, that’s what art is all about. i don’t want to hold people’s hands and tell them what’s happening or what they should feel -i want them to choose and decipher and think things over. stories should be stimulating and thought provoking, and i can’t decide what those thoughts are. I wouldn’t want to. Personally, if it means people become more confused and lost over the story -well, that’s a trade off I have to take. if it means the story is more up-to-interpretation, than it’s worth it to me.

i do regret with how fast and punchy the arc ended up, and I feel my hints may have been too weak. asriel/flowey has been bluntly surprised/asking to be killed twice, he hasn’t felt like himself since dying and has lost his support systems ect. as a person who’s Been Through Shit, I thought it was as obvious as the sun what was to come but thinking on it now?

with how distance asriel is, how limited the perspective is to chara (who hasn’t known Asriel has been going thru the same depressive/suicidal thoughts as they have this whole time) it was a shock to the system. and in a way that’s fine in my eyes if the reader was completely shocked as you can emphasize more with chara that way... but in the same sense its horrifying for them, it must be for the reader as well.

and I do feel I should of thought of a way to handle the scenario to where it was less in your-face with Asriel’s decent into desperation and attempts. I don’t want to ever show it on screen, I don’t want to ever go into detail and make it any sort of fun for the viewer. it’s supposed to be disturbing and painful and I tried to show how greatly painful it was affecting both chara and frisk. Suicide victims are victims and everyone involved suffer from it. It’s ugly and never something one should be anything but ugly.

that is my intent for it be that, but as I’ve heard from people it’s still a shock and went too far. Authorial intent doesn’t matter when people react to your stories. yes, the context can be good to have, but people’s feelings and reactions mean the world more. I hope with the added context of the complete story that helps it in the long run, but as it is I’m very unhappy with how I tackled it and I don’t really have a good answer to how I should of gone about it. but at the end of the day that doesn’t matter as it happened and I can’t change it.

i’m sorry about your friend and i’m sorry for the pain you’ve experienced as well. it’s not easy being in that position (nor is it for ur friend as well of course) and it’s perfectly fine to feel hurt and to take time for yourself to address those feelings. You, as a person, matter and your feelings are justifiably important as well. nobody asks to be mentally ill and your friend’s choices aren’t fully theirs because of that, but it doesn’t change how it’s affected and hurt you. Losing someone’s friendship has always been a painful and inevitable experience people must go thru in life. I’m sorry that you’ve gone through that, but I’m glad -so happy that my story has helped you in any amount. I sincerely wish you both the best and to heal, I’m proud of you anon for getting through this.

I can’t really express how much it means as a writer to see how my work helped you. Like I mentioned before, I write and feel like it’s by myself that makes this work but it’s a 2 way street -you guys contribute to the story and the story only exists and is perceived by you. without an audience, it really truly is just me here. what you gain and experience within a story is just as important as the writing of the work itself and I often forget that.

Thank you. This was a really nice and eye opening ask and it’s going to be on my mind for a while, haha. I hope once the story is done and I can post-correct how I handle the story, people can learn and gain meaning to it like you have. Sorry if this was a bit rambly, I’m very thankful for your response (as well as everyone else who’s messaged!) and I’m very happy and excited to continue and to do my best. Thank you all so much.

#ooc #tbd #not art #suicide #ask to tag #also sorry i do not mean to get so parasocial here! is it parasocial in this instance?#i'm not fully sure but regardless #i do want my readers to be ok and I hope its not out of line to respond like this #maybe i'm overthinking things im sorry asdfkljasd #Anonymous

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rixxy8173571m3w1p3 · 4 years

Text

The Truths Found On Petram Viridios IV (4/?)

A/N: Not only is this a long chapter, but I found a way to incorporate a prompt given to me by @hoodoo12 almost two years ago I think. Also, @twenties-sweetheart I incorporated what led the reader and Zeta-7 dating. This fic is almost done. I think there's only one or two chapters left. Hope you guys enjoy!

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

_________

Chapter 4 : Your Answer

You remembered when you didn't love him; a time when you had hoped he'd be a father figure and a friend who you could play card games with on Tuesdays. You used to not know him; though once you did there was no turning back. You used to not need him, but you didn't know how you couldn't. It used to be a simple crush, but he already loved you from the start.

Perhaps, you had always known, but you didn't want to see it; you had wanted to know, but your brain at times didn't want to believe it. You thought words like his were meant for fairy princesses who lived in high towers above the heavens, for royals and the knights who attended to them; for anyone else….except you. It just didn't seem possible that this man could want you, but he did and explained for the last half hour as to why.

“That’s...that’s amazing!” you exclaimed despite yourself. “You really feel that way about me?”

He nodded, his face still flushed. “I do...I-I-I love you. Do you,” he gulped. “do y-you love me?”

Of course you did, you had said so a few times already, but he was going to need a better explanation; to be reminded continually. You screwed your mouth to the side, wondering how you could put it delicately. “Well…there's too much to say, and I know it would never be enough, but I can try. Oh, and if I start to wax poetic, then let's just say it's the writer in me trying to get out. Ricardo,” you paused, encouraging him to sit down because the poor man looked ready to shake out of his skin. “what I feel is beyond love; it's our souls dancing and singing in the night, moonlit kisses, and disappearing during daybreak. Why it's not even serendipitous, but a luxurious splendor you shower me in, day in and day out, with breaks which threaten to tear me into bits and madden me. It's an adventure," he perked up at this; it was familiar territory. "with discoveries and revelations that nip at my inward parts, and pains me with equal parts desperation, fear, and gladness." Caressing his lips with your fingertips, he sighed happily." You fill my mouth with bliss, working peace along the curve of my cheek, and color my world with mystical, intelligent sayings. Ineffable creature, your veracity; how you express yourself so honestly, I'm surprised the whole world hasn't fallen in love with you. Though, I'm glad you reserved yourself just for me.”

Placing a kiss behind his ear, he made a funny noise, but you continued. “To say I love you my dear Zeta-7 isn't enough, for you are as much of myself as I am of you. Like I've said before, I'll remind you as much as you need me to.”

“H-h-h-h-how do you know? When - when was it that y-y-you started to see me differently?”

The question really struck you as odd considering it wasn't in any of his usual tones; he had seemed so sure of himself earlier, and now self-doubt peaked it's little head out. It was solemn, in a faraway voice, followed by a frown, and the deepening of the lines in his forehead. You stood up, seeing as he seemed upset, and he took this opportunity to go and make some tea; it was one of his coping mechanisms. Soon the scent of lavender filled the house; he returned and set down the cups carefully so as not to spill it.

“Oh,” he frowned; a bit tired from the emotional rollercoaster he had been in for most of the day. “I'm s-s-so sorry. If only I-I kept things simple, then it wouldn't have gotten so complicated.”

“It's okay,” you whispered. “we're both a little flustered. It….it really took a lot of courage to say what you had said earlier. So you shouldn't apologize for being human.”

“But I'm - I'm still so sorry.”

You moved your chair as close as you could, stretching out to work your fingers through his soft hair, and managed to find the beginnings of silver strands, but you said nothing of it. “You should have seen how you looked when you told me you loved me. You were so earnest and charming."

He reached out to take your hand and place it upon his heart. It was beating wildly, almost dangerously you thought. You waited until he calmed a little, and when the heavy blush and the redness of his ears softened, you knew that it was time. He really was too much, too good for you, too lovely, and you sincerely hoped you wouldn't offend him. “I hope you're ready, cause this really is going to be a long story. I think by telling it, it'll make my answer to your proposal more believable.”

________________

For years, you two had lived in the same town, in the same neighborhood, only houses away from each other. It was funny how you two hadn't met before, though Rick would later tell you it was because of his job. At the time, you would say you were old enough to know what heartbreak felt like, as well as what warmth and kindness should be; though you hadn't been in any sort of serious relationship. Like any woman your age, you had dreams of meeting someone, but for the most part, your love life wasn't first and foremost on your mind; you were busy trying to get through everyday.

So when you met Zeta-7, it never occurred to you how much he would someday come to mean to you; let alone how much your life would change. Now, it had taken a while, a little longer then you'd care to admit. It certainly wasn't love at first sight, for under the set of circumstances in which you two had met, Rick had come off as a friendly old man. But of course, after helping you carry groceries, a cup of tea, and a ukulele song, you warmed to him and became fast friends.

At first, you were hesitant in allowing him into your home; you'd seen enough Dateline to make you cautious. So, you two would meet on your porch on a regular basis, though it was not long before you felt safe enough to let him come over and repair small appliances; it was fascinating watching him tinker. And when he wasn't too busy, you'd go and see what he was doing in the garage. Perhaps you should have known then that he was different, but you had no point of comparison, and just went with it.

Sometimes, you two would just watch TV or have an occasional dinner at Shoney’s, or a late-night ice cream on your front porch. And you'd listen to his laughter; how his happy noises seemed to fill up the house. You were delighted by the nuances of his gentle voice, and at night, he'd tell about the stars, going into detailed explanations of constellations and about other heavenly bodies. It made you wonder what was out there, and it only fed your curiosity. You were comforted by his warm presence, thinking it was nice to have a father like figure around again, to fill up the time, and carry on long, meaningful conversations with. His eye for detail and selective word choice made most of your conversations laid back but stimulating.

Whether it was in your house, in his kitchen, or a quick cup of tea in the garage, he enjoyed sharing his homemade brews and you enjoyed drinking them. While at first glance he seemed simple, you took quick notice of his genteel manners, in the way he talked, in his general presence which you found was pleasing. It did not take long to notice that he was a learned man, with various degrees which hung in the left corner of his living room; he was actually a doctor in several meanings of the word. Perhaps in all meanings of the word.

Watching him mutter to himself, blissful, carefully piecing together a device that did who-knows-what filled him with joy. And you had always assumed that anyone above thirty-five - at least from what sense and sensibility told you - could not have any passion left, but you saw it every time he showed you a new invention; you saw him as he should be. As though he were this character who stepped off a page, you found yourself growing ever so curious about his thoughts, feelings, and machinations of his wonderful mind. You wanted to get close, to know him better, and he took this positively as you wanting to be best friends. And when he held you in his arms for the first time, you knew that he had ruined men for you. He wasn't supposed to feel so strong, and his arms weren't supposed to be sure, and hold you warmly, and most of all, there wasn't supposed to be a flutter.

Now having it formed in your mind that he was indeed a man, you could not smother your curiosity, though still, you tried to conceal it. It felt good to feel cared for again, and you didn't want to threaten it. Still, the affection you held for him was not the kind one felt for a parent. And your hopes and dreams were shattered, with this sudden, intense awareness of him, conscious of every breath he took, of his mobile features, recognized every nuance in his reflections.

All those times when you'd watch him dance in the kitchen, swaying about, more spritely than others your own age, you'd laugh, and he’d ask you to join him. And when your hands touched, it was like a current passed through you, and that giddiness would last all day. Those hands, which could create worlds, whisk a cream, or trace pictures in the sand, you could hold them in yours for eternity. Even longer, if what he spoke of at times was true.

If he had weeks where work kept him busy, he would call you, and you'd drop what you were doing to listen; he was always so excited to hear your voice; it lightened up your day. Or when he finally saw you after a few days, he'd greet you with a warm hug, and you'd return with equal enthusiasm. At times, you felt as though neither wanted to let go and held on to each other longer than what was platonically acceptable, but you'd pretend as though nothing happened, even if your heart was screaming. Why you'd almost lose yourself in his grasp.

As a man who wore his heart on his sleeve, you never felt as though there were any hidden agendas, or that he had a pervy attraction to you. On the contrary, you felt like the pervert for feeling all giddy and excited whenever he spoke with enthusiastic intelligence or showed you his experiments. There were times when you'd reach out and pat him on the back, telling him he had done such a good job, and he'd gift you with his winning smile, which caused unusual thoughts to cross your mind, and it messed you up. What was he to you?

Whether you were at home, or you sat in his home for a tea party, you knew something was the matter with you. You were a mess of feelings, of messy, happy, effervescent feelings, which you expressed in your work, in your writing. Harmless thoughts, which lingered and filled the contents of a novel. It was the story of a young woman who had fallen in love with her older, mute neighbor. In your head, you reasoned that your character was nothing like him, that the older man, as brilliant as he was in mathematics, science, and botany, who expressed himself through his actions, and kindness was made up. Perhaps your readers thought the same, but the modest ebook sales only reinforced that maybe there was something to it.

Missed glances, brief moments where you touched, awkward laughs, and a heart heavy feeling sitting on your chest; he was always on your mind. In between your issues, when you were doubtful, he'd reassure you of your capabilities, and when he felt lacking, you'd remind him of his genius. And while there were many moments which had been lovable, which were dear to you, you replayed the times that were nearest to your ideals; of what fits into your daydreams. You're not sure when, but it had been you who started to flirt regularly, and watch him blush, stammer, and get flustered; it gave you an odd thrill knowing it had been you who had caused him to feel as such, but then it would trouble you all the more. It wasn't fair to him, and you weren't helping your cause.

What were you doing, trying to toy with the feelings of an old, lonely man, who had little in the world, but your friendship and a few possessions; it filled your heart with grief. You didn't want to hurt him, you just wanted him to think you were beautiful, smart, funny, and well everything you'd want your crush to feel. If you were unhappy, he'd cheer you up with gifts, desserts, and his generous affection. For the most part, you knew his intentions were honorable, but in your head, you'd hope differently.

It could not work, he was so much older than yourself; not that you cared. For all you knew you were like the daughter he never had. In your heart, you tried to resolve that all you felt was friendship, but then he'd smile, laugh, or be kind to you and you were falling apart. You weren't a kitten, you had always liked men your own age, but you didn't just like him, you were intoxicated by him.

He wasn't even handsome. Well…at first, you didn't think so. You did however find him strangely adorable, and lovely. He was tall and slender, so he wore clothes well. Very gentle and nice, clean-shaven, with abundant blue hair, with the exception of the few strands which choose to be rebellious, prominent buck teeth which gave him a childish innocence, but straightforward, electric blue eyes which reminded you otherwise.

Your eyes would follow him as he moved about the room. Rick had long lashes for a man and was just as impressive overall, and intelligence was even more so. Could anything possibly stop him? Death perhaps, though Zeta-7 didn't care to admit how age played a big role in his energy levels at times, but you knew it was to be expected. You knew what you were getting yourself into when it came to dating someone so much older than yourself; if he'd consider it that is. For hours, he somehow kept up with your foolishness, and you barely managed to follow his genius.

You'd follow if he asked you to come, and in time you knew you were his. You felt loyalty to him, the kind which you knew you'd never revoke. You thought at first that it was his personable nature which had endeared you to him, but it was everything. He was everything.

Zeta-7 had always been affectionate, but not in the way which made you worry. You craved it, his attention, his affection, and wished to be closer than woven gossamer, and took everything he was willing to give you. You were not in love, you would tell yourself, it was merely infatuation. He was simply a cheerful grandpa kind of man, whose arms you would melt in, whose gentle, and generous affection you were greedy for. You were selfish, that was simply it.

Then came the defining moment, which happened one night while you two were cooking together. You needed a few cloves of garlic to chop for the eggplant lasagna, and he just kept handing you cloves. You told him you had enough, and he smiled warmly, telling you there could never be enough garlic and you stopped. You two stared at each other for what seemed like hours even though only seconds passed. It was as though you had come to an understanding.

His winning smile had been the most beautiful thing you had ever seen, his eyes captured you, and you knew for a fact that what you felt was something greater than friendship. The rest of the evening you found yourself in a daze, and hesitant to be near him. In your heart, your feelings felt as though it were almost forbidden, as though you shouldn't feel this way for someone who was a great friend. You blamed these feelings on your own impatience, inexperienced like the man before you. Yeah, you wanted his attention, and he had been attentive. Everyday he made sure your emotional needs were met, he'd probably do just about anything if you asked him to, but you were scared, perhaps just as afraid as he was. Still, the words themselves were an enigma, they burned, they toiled, begging to be said, but you were afraid. Yet, you searched his face, and found the answer; you were falling in love with him.

His sing-song voice twisting and curling about you. You wouldn't risk it you told yourself, but before you went to bed that night he called you and apologized if he had offended you. “No”, you had said, “I'm just not feeling well, but I'll be fine. I promise, I'm going to be okay, so you don't have to worry about me.”

“I-I-I can't help it, I care about you.” was his sincere reply.

Those dizzying warm feelings of affection bubbled and boiled, and you did your best to try to repress them. As usual, he wanted to help you feel better, but you were afraid it would ruin things; you'd rather hurt yourself, then hurt him, and never see him again. For the next week, you thought long and hard, and the next time you two met, you were sitting in his home for afternoon tea, and you told him of how you felt right out of the blue. “Rick, I like you.”

Being the dear man he was, he thought you were talking in platonic terms. “Gosh, really? Well, that's why I'm - why I'm glad we're best friends.”

“No,” you sighed. “that's not what I meant.” You watched as his smile turned to fear, but you continued. “I know you're much older then I am, and you probably see me as some kid, but I'm a grown woman, with adult feelings. And for a while, I thought it was nothing, but I can't ignore it anymore. I care about you as my friend and I understand if you don't want that to change, but I see you as a man, and I hope you realize that I like you so much. There's nothing you can say which will change it because I don't want to change these feelings of mine. I'm not saying this to make fun of you, or because I'm lonely, but to let you know that I like you and that I'm not ashamed.”

So what if you were a kitten, you cared about him, and you knew that if he were to let you down, he would be gentle about it. The sweet, kind man that he was, gently, and carefully placed a shaky hand upon yours and gave it a squeeze. And he cried, “Gosh, you - you don't know how relieved I am. I-I-I thought I was a pervert for-for feeling the way I had.”

“Wait, you….you like me too?”

He groaned, as though he were in pain, and studied you before he continued. “I-I-I don't understand, I'm - I'm so old and gross, and y-you are like a freshly bloomed rose. H-h-h-h-how…..w-w-why?”

You reassured him, taking his hand in yours, rubbing your face into his shaky palm. “Because I just do.”

When he calmed, he looked at you with such affection, and the soft look he gave you made your breath caught. He was in love with you. Even back then, his feelings had been greater, but you dared not believe it. How could you believe it?

Your kind, gentle friend had won you over with such kindness and attracted you with a tender heart. When did you know? In moments when you saw him, not the old man, but of the softness, the beauty of an intriguing mind, and of winsome determination to be happy and to help you be happy too. You held each other so tight, you felt as though you were bound together.

He held you with a strength you did not realize one his age even still had. This was a time before kisses, before great declarations. It was a time to feel, to learn, to hold one another in a soul-crushing embrace. His heartbeat was alarmingly fast, and there had been something almost boyish in the way he placed a tress of hair behind your ear. You were the first to admit your feelings, but he had been the first to ask. A nervous chuckle escaped him, and a little lip-bite followed. “I-I am quite fond of you, and seeing that we - that our feelings are mutual, would - will you…will y-y-you go steady with me?”

As archaic as the terms might have been, it was still charming, and being the kind of man he was, you knew he meant it, and that there was only one way to answer. “Yes, I'd love to.”

Of course, you would go out with him. And forever, that memory would be etched upon your soul.

________

With wide eyes, he remembered how ashamed he had felt. He sat up, ready to shield his face, but you held your arms open. Like back then, you held each other in a soul-crushing embrace. “Do you understand now, my dear, dear friend? There was no way it could have been anyone else. Like a tree planted by streams of water, I've flourished under your attentions. You see me…. you see what I am, as I am. We make each other happy, every day, all the time.”

You two were not wary strangers; passersbys in one another's narratives; not in this instance at least. Neither were you two butterflies emerging from cocoons; descendants of lovers found in a field of barley; discovering and reveling in springtime gusts and gales. No, you were not beautiful like alabaster apples on a ledge; nor figments of one's imagination. You were, however, on the cusp of change; this was the rest of it; the continuation of what had been attempted two years ago; it was nothing like how you thought it would be, but the expectancy of the moment was palpable nonetheless. For your part, you admired the lovely scarlet coloring which crept up his neck and tinged the top of his ears; how becoming it was as well as boyish. And if it weren't already obvious, you didn't need time to think of a reply, and with clear purpose, you answered. "And dear, well, we are still friends. We're best friends. The sweetest, dearest friends that anyone could ever have, except that we love one another. Oh, I do want to. I will marry you."

Oh, whatever future there might've been destined for him, you altered its course by your acceptance of his proposal. Unlike the nihilistic view where no one had a choice, and what had been written was set in stone and that nothing mattered, you decided would not be so. In partaking in this agreement, you had taken on the consequences of what might occur in connection with Rick's work life. You had also taken on the responsibility of what you'd have to do once Rick surpassed the ability to mechanize himself any further than he already had. Still, you could live with this new burden because you were no stranger to heartache and had to make the best of what you two had; love made you do it; unbidden joy was your reward.

Tbc

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