#i mean inside its own logic either

[ayegomorrah]

Something i find interesting and underdiscussed about Yoon Ha Lee's Machineries of Empire is that the empire seems to still work flawlessly under its own oppressive and faschistic logic. You can't "actually the trains didn't run in time" your way out of this model of empire because the technological prowess and following material well being is what the empire promises and delivers. Therefore the question of rebellion is purely a moral one. It would be easy to write about the military realistically as a complete shit show but no, the (sexually) submissive soldiers act according to the ideal of the military

[azrielbrainrot]

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 6

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: Getting answers out of Norris has proven quite challenging. Your disagreement with Azriel is weighting on you more than you thought it would.

Warnings: Violence, Torture, Gore

Word Count: 5550

Notes: This took me a bit longer to write than I anticipated but I wanted to make sure not to forget any details. Hope you enjoy!

Part 5 ○ Part 7

The sun was already shining high in the sky when you finally stepped out of the dungeon. Feyre had arrived with Cassian and Amren a few minutes earlier, ordering her mate, you and Azriel to go and get some rest while they took over for a few hours. Rhysand could only use his daemati powers for so long and the strain was starting to become visible on his face, so she likely could feel his fatigue through their mating bond. His efforts were starting to be in vain anyway, you needed to wear Norris down a lot more physically before his mental walls would start giving in.

You didn't want to leave at first, completely unwilling to take your eyes off Norris for even a second, but both you and Azriel had been forced to go take a bath and eat something, maybe even get some sleep and only come back later in the day. Logically this made perfect sense, but you'd rather stay with him until he told you everything you wanted to know. You believe them all to be more than capable of handling this but you also know Norris, if anyone could find a way to escape from the Night Court's dungeons it would be him.

Still, you knew it was going to take a lot longer than a few hours to crack Norris so you needed to keep your strength, you wouldn't be any help at all if you exhausted yourself. Apparently the same wards around your memories were also present in Norris' mind, meaning Rhysand was only able to knock him out in the forest but not read through his thoughts, the same way he wasn't able to reach your memories before. This meant he was the one in control of said wards, both his and yours. Amren was quick to explain that since they had been done with the help of a witch's tool, he had to have it with him to keep up his wards since it wasn't his own magic that was keeping them in place.

It also explains why he risked becoming your handler even though letting you know him could lead to this exact outcome. He needed to strengthen your wards every once in a while to make sure no memory slipped through them. Unfortunately, even without his checkups the wards were strong enough that simply time wouldn't give your memories back in full, at best only letting you see some fragments. There was also no way of knowing what they could do to your mind when left unattended so your only option was to keep pushing him until he told you everything you needed to know.

The tool he used couldn't be far, he either had it on his person or hid it somewhere close before meeting you in the forest. You've searched through his belongings more than once, as did everyone present in the cell, including Azriel's shadows, but came up empty. He likely had a powerful glamour cast on it, one you had to make him break. Getting your hands on that tool meant you could break both the wards around his mind, which would grant Rhysand access to any and every piece of information he wanted, and the wards keeping your memories hidden inside you. One simple object could set you free.

Azriel winnowed you to the middle of the mountains surrounding Velaris, right behind the House of Wind, making sure no one in the city could see your bodies drenched in blood but unable to winnow you straight home. Having a house protected by wards that didn't allow for any winnowing, even by its inhabitants, was really good in theory, you've never seen a safer place really, but in practice having to fly up every time was more than annoying, especially when you don't have wings of your own.

The air was strangely awkward around the two of you since you hadn't spoken a word to each other after the short argument in the forest. Most of your annoyance had worn off at this point, got redirected at your smug handler chained up in the dungeon, but you still wanted him to be the one to come to you and explain himself. His attitude earlier had seemed completely different from everything you'd experienced until then, you know there's a reason for it but you're too prideful to ask him about it.

The only plausible reason you could think of is that he's been using you to get to an assassin with a higher up position in the guild, but something told you immediately that wasn't the case, it seems like a part of you balked at the thought that he'd betray you like this. Even putting your annoying phantom feelings aside, it didn't make sense considering the High Lord has followed his word on letting you help in interrogating Norris. Your mind was fresh out of ideas, and much too tired to analyze that small argument. He'll tell you what happened eventually, and if he doesn't… Well, then it's a good thing you didn't get your hopes up even more.

“I'll fly you up to the House,” his voice was scratchy from not being used in so long, making it deeper as he almost whispered beside you, not wanting to disturb the quietness in the mountain. Azriel had done most of the cutting and breaking but he hadn't even asked Norris any questions, content in letting you and Rhysand take over the interrogation while he carved out Norris' skin. You can't be sure if it was because of your fight or just the grueling last few hours but he didn't seem to be in the best mood anyway.

You nod up at him, simply walking closer and letting him pick you up into his warm embrace, strong hands careful as they handle your body. You've only flown once - from what you can remember at least, you can't imagine a version of yourself who wouldn't ask her husband to take her flying regularly if he had wings - and, given the circumstances, you didn't really have the chance to stop and truly enjoy the moment. It would be the same now, even worse given the fact that you'd rather not deal with the shadowsinger, but the breeze hitting against your tired body sounded heavenly, and so did the big bathtub and soft mattress waiting for you up in your room. There was also no energy left in your body to even try to argue with him, if there was you would have been using it on your handler.

His body relaxes slightly when you simply slip your arms around his neck, his wings stretching and flapping a couple of times as he got ready to take flight. He looked like he was expecting you to refuse, as if there was any other way to the House besides flying and he wasn't the only Illyrian here.

The actual flight doesn't take long, within a few moments Azriel is gently setting you down back on your feet at the top of the stairs, hands lingering on your body as if moving on their own, a habit he can't quite break himself out of. You meet his eyes, briefly wondering if you should say something, debating if you have enough patience in yourself to extend a small olive branch to the male who is covered in the blood of your enemy.

He beats you to it, looking down before speaking as if he couldn't hold your gaze for top long - yet another way he's acting out of character. “You're free to do what you want. I'll meet you in your room and fly you back to the dungeon when it's time. I won't bother you before that.” The professional, detached tone in his voice makes your annoyance want to rise up but you swallow it down, realizing how tired you really were as soon as you had stepped foot inside the house.

“Alright,” you tell him before turning around and walking straight to your room, never looking back to see his reaction or the way regret flashes in his eyes as he watches your every step away from him.

Azriel stayed true to his word, only coming to check in on you right before it was time to return. You can't even be sure if he stayed in his room the whole time, if he truly spent these few hours resting as he was ordered since there was no sound coming from his room or around the house at all. Curiosity had gotten the best of you a couple of hours ago, when you woke up from your nap feeling strangely alone, like a piece of you was begging to go find him. This feeling was clutching at your heart for long enough that you actually considered going to find Azriel, but held on since you didn't fully know your way around the house and you had no idea where he could be. You didn't really know what to say either.

Luckily it wasn't long until you heard his footsteps getting closer to your room before a soft knock sounded at the door. He always does this, makes sure to let himself be heard before knocking. Sitting up at the edge of the mattress, you call out to him, wondering if he'll tell you anything now or simply fly you back to the cells.

As soon as his form comes into view you can tell he hasn't slept much if anything at all, dark circles prominent under his eyes. He's at least taken a bath, the sullied leathers were now replaced with new ones, the stench of blood not clinging to him anymore. You're wearing some yourself, your old ones as you've been told. Your clothes were ruined and putting them back on would defeat the purpose of the bath you took earlier, but it feels weird to wear a version of what you always see Azriel and his family in. He takes notice of this as well, hazel eyes raking over your form, lingering around your waist long enough for you to start feeling self conscious, standing up and taking a step closer to him almost involuntarily.

“Is anything wrong? I thought you left them for me to wear.” Since he had given you the leathers along with your old belongings you had assumed you were allowed to wear them, but, at this point, these clothes were more his than yours. Maybe he was scared you'd ruin them and he'd lose his memories of you.

“No, that's not it. They're yours,” he assures quickly, eyes widening slightly before a conflicted expression takes over his face. “The buckles are done wrong,” his observation makes you look down at yourself, there were more straps and buckles than necessary for any piece of garment and you'd taken a bit longer to figure it out than you cared to admit, apparently you should have taken even longer.

Your fingers reach for the straps around your waist, tugging at the leather before he continues, “I can help you with them. They can be hard to put on if you're not used to it.” When you look up from the confusing clothes and your eyes move to meet his, you find him watching your hands hesitantly, his own flexing at his sides. You end up agreeing without even thinking it through, something you almost regret when he walks closer to you and suddenly all you can see and smell is Azriel.

He looks into your eyes before reaching out to the buckles around your waist slowly, giving you a chance to push him away, almost expecting you to. You drop your hands at your sides awkwardly, not knowing what to do with them or yourself when he starts working on your leathers. Expert fingers undo the buckle before pulling on the straps, unexpectedly tightening your armor in the process which pulls a startled gasp out of you. His hands move to grab your waist, surprised by your reaction. Wide hazel eyes meet yours at the sound, a heat spreading within them the longer he holds your gaze, hands frozen around your waist.

All your senses are overwhelmed with him so close, staring down at you like that. The only thing you can think of is the kiss you shared a few nights ago, your entire body begging to repeat the action as he looks down at you with the same passionate look he had worn then. He seems to be reminded of the same, perhaps of similar moments from your previous life, even more scandalous ones surely.

Thankfully, some of your common sense finds you before you could do something stupid like pull him down to you and taste him again, the thought making you look away from him and clear your throat, hoping he breaks from the spell and lets you pretend it didn't happen. This prompts him to keep buckling the leathers, with an urgency he didn't have before, and you look down with him, following his movements even though your mind isn't actually registering any of them as you try to calm your breathing and not think of the way his hands feel around your waist. You'll likely need his help fastening everything tomorrow as well.

“These are meant to cross so the leathers are molded to your body and there are no openings,” he tries to explain as he finishes and moves back, but you can tell he's as affected by your little moment as you were.

You nod at him, “There were a lot of straps, I wasn't sure which ones belonged where. Some of them don't even look like they have a purpose,” you finish as you play with the straps around your wrists, the ones you really couldn't figure out.

“Those are for your gloves,” he explains, a somewhat endeared look crossing his face. “I didn't think you'd need them but you can put them on. Though I'm not sure how they will behave with your powers now.”

“Did I not have these powers before?” You hadn't thought of the possibility but if the spell could erase your memories maybe Norris could have found a way to give or take powers. Just the thought of it brings a chill down your spine.

“You did, but you've gotten a lot stronger,” there was a hint of pride in his words, though the somber meaning hung between you. No matter how hard you practiced and how well they could have trained you here, the results wouldn't be as fast or maybe as clean as the ones resulting from the guild's harsh training. The guild had no problem pushing you past your limits, you either adapted and got stronger or you'd die and be replaced. You suppose you never had to use your powers to torture people before either.

“When this all ends we could spar together,” you sound hesitant even to your own ears, “Maybe I'm even stronger than you by now.” You haven't talked about what will happen after all of this, you can't know for sure what you'll want to do when you recover your memories. You also keenly aware you had just been telling yourself you wouldn't make it easy on him, but ended up seconds away from kissing him and inviting him to spar with you as soon as you saw him.

“I'd like that,” he nods, a reddish tint rushing to his ears. He makes it unbearably hard to even remember why you were upset with him in the first place. It takes everything in you not to lean into his genuineness and forget it ever happened. You bite your lip and give him a small nod of your own, “Are you ready then? We should go.”

“I wanted to talk to you before we left,” his voice takes on a serious tone, regret peeking through every word.

“Maybe this is not the right time. They're probably waiting for us,” you offered, not really sure how to go about having this conversation after what had just happened, even if the curiosity was killing you. It was clear you couldn't keep a level head when it came to Azriel.

“No, I can't…” he cuts himself off, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh, a heavy sound coming from deep in his chest as if he’s been pushing it down for a long time. He looks scared somehow, his wings pulling in tighter to his body and his shadows crawling up his shoulders as if comforting, or even encouraging him. You let him find his composure, find the right words to explain the situation. This feels bigger than a silly argument when adrenaline was pumping through both your veins and that gnawing feeling in your chest comes back, getting stronger with every breath, making you think this might be something he's carried on from the time you were still married.

Azriel opens his eyes after a few moments, the emotions swirling in them enough to make you breathless, and reaches his hand out to yours, waiting for you to accept it and then squeezing it tight as if he needs the reminder that you're real.

“I need you to know I wasn't trying to keep any secrets from you or order you around as you said,” he starts lowly, shiny hazel eyes alternating between watching your hands clasped together and staring deep into your eyes, “We've had this conversation many times before. I know you don't remember but I need you to know I never meant to make you think I want to have any sort of power over you.” He brings your hand up to his chest then, spreading your palm right over his beating heart as he continues, eyes never straying from yours, “I know you can handle yourself, and I know you want to be there when Norris tells you everything. I wasn't trying to keep you away from the dungeon because I didn't think you could handle it.”

“Then why?” Your voice is but a whisper, not wanting to disturb the vulnerable moment.

“I never let you see me down there before, know the monster I have to become. You tried, many times, but I never allowed it. I've always been too afraid of what your reaction would be,” he presses his hand down on yours a little harder as his heart beat picks up, “It would kill me if you were ever scared of me, if you couldn't love me anymore after learning who I am. I was so scared of losing you. Scared that you would ever look at me with fear in your eyes instead of love.”

You let your gaze fall to the way he presses his and your hand to his chest, letting his heartbeat lead yours. It takes a moment for you to process his admission. From what he told you before you thought you had been open with each other throughout your marriage, but it seems there were parts of him he kept hidden even from you, especially from you.

Moments like these always leave you in a weird position. You can't speak for the old version of you, as much as you want to believe that you wouldn't leave him, would never feel scared of him, when your love for him transcended your memories as if it was written down into your bones, the truth is you don't remember her at all. Maybe she would have been scared, maybe his worries hadn't been completely unwarranted then. The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

You turn your hand around, your palm no longer pressed against his chest in favor of holding onto his hand, your other hand joining in as you massage the rough skin and let them fall between you two, needing something familiar to ground yourself while you think of what to say. You twist his wedding ring around his finger once, closing your eyes at the tremble that runs through him at the motion, the way even his wings droop to the floor. The fact that he lets you touch him like this makes things so much harder sometimes.

“I've seen a lot of monsters. You're not one of them, Azriel. Far from it,” you start carefully, “and… I'm not sure how I was like before, if seeing you down there would have really been too much for me to handle but if I truly loved you like I think I did, then I know it wouldn't have mattered. There's nothing about you I see as unlovable.”

“Loved,” a broken mumble between you, not a question. This makes you look up at him. You want to deny it, tell him you still love him, but you can't make sense of the feelings inside you, can't say for sure what will happen to them when you regain your memories. Most of all, you don't want to hurt him, give him hope when he already lost so much, when you already hurt him so much.

You drop his hand, taking a small step back. “I'm not the same person you used to know, and recovering my memories might not bring her back either. Most of what's left is just my body.”

“It doesn't matter,” he says so matter-of-factly it almost makes you want to believe him.

“Azriel-”

“No,” he brings both of his hands to hold onto your face gently, giving you no option but to look into his eyes, “I love you. That didn't change when you died or over the century that followed, when I didn't think I would ever see you again. It didn't change when I saw you in the townhouse or even when you stabbed me. And it won't change whether you get your memories back or not, if you choose to stay or not.”

“I don't love you,” the words stumble out desperately, tears gathering in your eyes, “I don't even remember you, Azriel.”

“That doesn't change it either,” he smiles, thumb caressing your cheek softly. You know he means it then, know there's no way to change his mind even if for his own good. You can only pray to the Mother that your memories don't give you any unpleasant surprises. You're trying so hard to keep his heart safe, why must he keep offering to rip it out of his chest for you?

His expression changes abruptly as you're lost in thought and soon after you feel a presence in your mind before Rhysand's voice comes through. I hope I'm not interrupting anything. Azriel's hands drop from your face then, a scowl overcoming his features. You can only imagine the words he's throwing at his brother in his mind, but Rhysand's voice returns, noticeably more amused, Our break is over. It's time to meet them back at the dungeon. I take it you'll fly our captive back? The answering growl that comes from the shadowsinger actually makes you hide a chuckle behind your hand. His gaze softening once again when he notices the gesture.

Despite the timing and the way he insisted on addressing you as “captive” to rile Azriel up, you could actually thank Rhysand for breaking you away from the moment. He's right, you've rested more than enough and it's now time to go back and finish what you started. You only have the luxury of dealing with your marriage after Norris is gone and you could actually remember your husband.

The flight to the dungeon is a lot easier this time as your prior annoyance was replaced with strangely welcomed awkwardness and a tinge of bashfulness. As much as you tried to deny it, you can't pretend Azriel's admission hadn't made your heart want to leap out of your chest. You don't think anyone could have remained impartial to such a confession, especially coming from a male like Azriel, but as soon as you step into the dungeon, you feel yourself morph back into the cold assassin. You could even feel Azriel's mask fall over his face as well, ready to resume what you'd started before.

This same routine is repeated for a few days, slowly but surely wearing the formidable assassin down. It wouldn't be long until Rhysand or Feyre could read through his mind completely even if he didn't willingly tell you anything. This sentiment was felt among all of you, it's like you could all taste how close he was to breaking.

You came back from one of your mandatory breaks to see Cassian leaning by the cell door, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at your prisoner as Amren stood in the middle of the cell covered in blood, a wicked grin on her face as Norris looked the most unsettled you'd ever seen him. She was told to hold back in the first days but since Norris insists on resisting, Rhysand had allowed her to toy with him. You truly hope you never cross her, just the thought of the things she could do makes every hair on your body stand.

Everyone stays in the room this time, knowing it's only a matter of time. Azriel takes over once more, every slash of his knife meant to give Norris unimaginable pain, completely focused on making the short remaining of his life as miserable as he can.

The difference between the male who had confessed his undying love to you, held your hand as if you were the most precious thing in this world, and the one expertly carving out your former handler's body was almost unbelievable. Azriel's face showed nothing but anger, and even then you knew it wasn't even a quarter of the seething fury burning inside of him. This wasn't your doting husband, this was the Spymaster.

You feel Rhysand's dramatic show of power before you see him walk into the cell, hands in pockets as if he was walking into his kitchen instead of a seedy dungeon reeking of blood and sweat. He passes by you and joins Azriel in tormenting Norris, letting sharp black talons run across the mental walls he's been so desperate to maintain. The smirk on his mate's face, who leans against the table calmly by your side, tells you they might even be teaming up on him.

Fatigue was starting to eat away at everyone the longer you spent inside the windowless cell, but, as Norris smirks lessened and his bared teeth stopped being enough to hide the obvious grunts of pain, his skin paling considerably as his blood pooled at his feet, it was clear that you were on the right track, only needed to keep pushing.

Your handler had started answering more questions too, if only to keep you distracted and away from any blades long enough. It's hard to believe that the male you've been frightened of for a century is the same one chained in front of you. If it weren't for the stubbornness and the pride he's managed to keep somehow, you wouldn't have believed it at all.

“This whole mission was a gamble. We couldn't know for sure if they'd written you off their wards even if they thought you were dead. When you walked in so easily I thought it would be a piece of cake from there. Seems I was wrong.” You had guessed as much. At the time, being sent to an unknown place on such short notice seemed strange and sloppy for how usually crafted the guild's plans were, but knowing what you do now, it makes sense. Not only were you written into the wards as he said, but if it hadn't been for the strange nostalgic feelings inside you, Azriel would have let you escape, you would have even killed him to do so.

“The spell should have sealed your memories and feelings tight,” Norris continues as if sensing your thoughts, “I'm not sure what is trying so hard to claw its way out from behind those walls.” He tilts his head to the side and pauses as if he found the answer and that self-assured smirk reappears on his lips. The sight makes your skin crawl, your powers reacting with you and sending an icy chill into the room. Temperature dropping as his smirk only widens even more and Azriel looks at you with a worried expression before catching himself. “Maybe I just messed up the spell,” he dismisses.

“What do you mean?”

“It is a tricky spell,” he shrugs nonchalantly, knowing that's not what you asked. Azriel moves before you, Truth Teller slashing across his skin for the millionth time, but Norris seems intent on keeping at least this last piece of information to himself. There's more to this, you know there is, but the interrogation moves on to matters of the guild. Rhysand is still worried that they will come for you now that you've deserted, and that they will bring harm to his beloved court.

Within the next few hours, Norris' healing stops being able to keep up with his injuries, even his voice losing strength. It seems like he was focusing the remaining of his energy on keeping his mental walls safe, but it's not long until you see Rhysand's smirk grow, a satisfied wicked thing on his face.

You watch as Norris' head goes limp, unfocused eyes dropping to the ground as the High Lord searches through his mind, probably making it as unpleasant as he possibly can. Your heart starts beating faster in your chest, anxiety building up at the thought that this could have all been for nothing, that Norris might not have the answer after all. You feel a hand on your shoulder but don't even have the mind to look back and check who is trying to comfort you.

When he finally steps back, he simply gives you a nod and a breath of relief escapes you as you stare back into Norris' eyes. You watch Azriel and Rhysand share a look in the corner of your eye, never daring to look away from Norris' defeated face. Within moments everyone starts clearing out of the cell in silence, leaving you and your shadowsinger standing over the prisoner.

It's only when Azriel's hand reaches for yours, tugging on it to get your attention that you look away. His eyes don't give away much and he doesn't say the words, but as he places Truth Teller in the palm of your hand, you know exactly what he means. He nods at you once and drops your hand, taking a step back and giving you space.

You look down at the dagger in your hands, the same one you had held to wound the male who now handed it to you, the one you'll now use to set yourself free. Describing the feeling running through your body is impossible, you always thought you'd die in the guild, as an assassin. Never even dared to think you could be more, never thought it would be possible to get out alive and find a life for yourself. You thought you'd be scared at the prospect but you can only feel excitement and relief.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you walk to Norris and pull on his hair to lift his face to yours, so he can see all the hate and anger in your gaze before you stab the knife through his right eye slowly, making sure to get it through his brain, deep enough that no amount of healing or any trick he might have had up his sleeve would be able to save him, and twisting it around. You don't move for a few moments, listening for his heartbeat and paying attention to the blood seeping out of the wound. It's only when you're sure he's dead, that his heart is completely quiet and enough blood has poured out, that you pull the knife out with a squelching sound, flicking it down to get rid of most of the blood and any pieces of flesh stuck to it.

You hesitate for a moment before turning back, meeting Azriel's eyes. As much as you'd told him there was no need for him to worry of your opinion of him changing after witnessing what he did to Norris, of ever being afraid of him, you had hypocritically been scared of letting him see you like this, of seeing the cold blooded killer you had become, so far detached from the wife in his memories.

All your worries are proven baseless however. The only thing you can distinguish in his eyes is relief, at having the answer to getting your memories back and having the person responsible for your pain killed. You can't help the smile growing on your face, not caring for how it must look against the blood covering most of your body, and wrap your arms around Azriel's neck, pulling him down into a hug as a sigh of relief escapes you, tears rising to your eyes and flowing down your cheeks. His arms come around you immediately, tightening his grip on you and burying his face in your neck, tears of his own wetting your skin.

You're finally free.

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[clairedaring]

if you're hoping for joe 2.0 to get his 'revenge' in the second half of the series...

warning: mild novel spoilers (but also not really because i'm just discussing things that have been shown in the trailer)

i really think you should either drop the series or give up the hopes of a satisfying makjang revenge storyline in my stand-in instead of setting yourself up for disappointment. because that simply isn't the story that my stand-in is trying to tell.

so what is my stand-in about really?

well, for me i think its a romance tragicomedy drama about an idiotic scum male lead losing the person he loves most because of his own arrogance and refusal to listen to his heart and the series of unfortunate events that happened consequently for our protagonist who was living a peaceful and quiet life as a stunt actor before the scum male lead entered his life.

joe 2.0 and his approach to life

i've mentioned it twice now that one of my favorite traits of joe/zhou xiang is that kindness in his strength where even if he can be choose to be mean or cruel, he simply doesn't because he has such a soft heart and he's weak to see others in pain (joe is my fellow enfp people pleaser okay) (⁠っ⁠˘̩⁠╭⁠╮⁠˘̩⁠)⁠っ which is why even in his 2.0 life, you won't get to see joe turning 180 degree and going around to hurt everyone who's ever hurt him like it's some makjang kdrama.

and while that seems like it could be fun, i think the reason why i loved professional body double (my stand-in novel) so much in the first place is because that very distinction between joe and other rebirth/second chance at life protagonists that you often see in revenge kdramas/cdramas/thai lakorns.

logically, if my stand-in was a 24-episode one31 lakorn/thai soap opera, joe would be full of hatred and burning rage after his rebirth and started his intricated revenge plot while still falling in love with ming whom he should hate the most.

and yet he isn't (or at least it seems to me so far).

if you read the lyrics 'Die For You' - the opening ost of my stand-in, i think you can have a good guess of what the second half of the story will be like.

Even running away to death can't help. If my heart had chosen to stop at you I'll have to surrender with the confusion I feel. To come back to the same old place. Even if I have to die, disappear and then be reborn But the love is still buried deep inside, even if it's been shattered into pieces Even if my life ends, I can't stop my heart from calling out to you Because this whole body, life, spirit It is yours only, for all eternity.

and even from the trailer of my stand-in, you can tell that joe 2.0 has a lot of internal conflicting feelings about whether he could trust ming again after the betrayal he faced in his 1.0 life. and i feel like essentially the journey of ming proving to joe 2.0 that he really does love joe is very much the central plot in the second half part of the story.

so i'd like to take this part to note how well the series has done to adapt the novel so far. i think a good adapted change they've made is this early realization of feelings for ming in the joe 1.0 timeline. i do think the novel made him realized his feelings a little bit later but my stand-in did well to show within ep.3 what happiness could have looked like for joe 1.0 and ming and i think it rationalizes a bit more more for why joe 2.0 would still have feelings for ming 'buried deep inside' even when he's been badly hurt the first time around. and reading the story i've always found it interesting that they took this route to focus on the re-entangled complex relationship between mingjoe rather than going for a joe-centric revenge makjang plot (i swear if this was your typical thai lakorn, joe would seduce ming while planning to take down his whole family or something).

of course, that's not to dismiss that there's a lot of character growth for joe in the second half of the story, especially in his building of self-confidence, self-worth, the ability to put himself first and the fight for his own happiness above all. but like i've mentioned above, his growth journey is not at the expense of a drastic personality change in regards to the kind hearted joe we saw in his 1.0 life. instead, we get kind hearted joe 2.0 who quickly adapts to his new life and attempts to start anew while conflicted feelings resurface for him as he is pulled back into the relationships he once had.

all in all, my stand-in is still at the heart of it, a love story. perhaps, a dark romance as my friend @dragonsandphoenix would call it, but a romance nonetheless. i think that is what also makes professional body double such a compelling read too, because the progression in the feelings and complex emotions of these characters are so tightly written that it's convincing enough for me (maybe not for others though) to believe that yan ming xiu has/will always love zhou xiang (to the point ymx would probably eliminate anyone else who dared to steal zx from him). obsessive love? yes. do they both need therapy? probably. yet i still believe in their happy ending? of course.

final note/disclaimer: then again, this is just my PERSONAL opinions based on the novel and up til 3 episodes of my stand-in (which seems to be very faithful to the novel so far), who knows maybe they can anger novel fans and adapt it completely differently later on (something i sure hope they don't but we'll seeeee) ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

[devondespresso]

FINALLY

after NINE. HOURS. (NOT including meals and sleep) ITS FUCKING DONE.

A complete floorplan of the entire Harrington house. Including too much thought about random, throw-away lines from characters and squint-to-see-it background glimpses inside.

plently of stuff in the actual house is altered or straight up ignored in favor of following the fiction logic and because I Wanted To. A lot of this is motivated by my headcanons for the Harringtons and how I'm writing them in my fic, but I'm also certainly not an architect so it's by no means perfect. It is, however, unreasonably canon compliant in the few bits we do see.

Thought Process (for context):

the darker shaded floor areas are lower than the rest, some bits like the garages having stairs and some areas like the sun and dining rooms list being like a step lower. Windows are marked with dashes along the outside, sliding doors are two thin lines slightly overlapping, stairs change color as they diverge from the level we're looking at, and furniture is eyeballed so don't look to closely a the scale.

not all closets are labeled, just the ones i figured could be confusing. Steve and the guest rooms have closets i promise.

the laundry room and pantry are not the same size but by the time i noticed i was exhausted. so pretend they're both more reasonably sized.

i don't know what the floorplan symbol for garage door is and then i forgot to look so the headlights point to where the doors are and you can see them clearly in photos so yeah.

The general layout is based on the idea that the Harringtons are or were into hosting dinner parties and business meetings in their home, especially as a young rich couple looking for respect in their circles (Mr. Harrington taking on his father's business and reinforcing that power, Mrs. Harrington climbing her own social ladder and building an image).

So the house is laid out with hosting areas towards the right with the office big and near the dining room because it's more than just a workplace, it represents him as a businessman. In canon the entryway and living room both have very high ceilings and no second-floor above them, so I'd imagine they're also aware of how the top floor looks from below, hence the fancy double/french doors to the master bedroom which is in plain view from below. Steve's room and the guest room are's nearly as visible.

As for the kitchen and sun/pool rooms, I see them more as secondary hosting areas that aren't used as the main location most of the time and are more this background setting to these events that still feel rich. The kitchen is massive and mostly for dinner-parties and Mrs. Harrington's social events.

The kitchen and main bathroom's placement is based on a line Steve said to Barb giving her directions to the bathroom: "down past the kitchen, to the left". With the massive living room on the left and wanting to keep the dining and office close by, i interpreted the "to the left" part being like "find the kitchen, then turn left". And with the rest of the area being open-concept, the bathroom would be the only normal door over there and easy to find. it's a bit of a stretch with just that line, but it makes sense to me with the rest of the context for the layout.

the basement is similar to this, though not as openly displayed so I imagine its for slightly closer friends. Theres a garage door down there so I figured Mr. Harrington might have a cool car he shows off, like he's letting people in on a personal detail about himself. There's also a guest room down there (the only one still considered 100% for guests, more on that later) for those people.

beside the basement garage, there was originally one main garage that holds two cars, obvious Mr. and Mrs. Harrington's cars. I imagine they bought the house before having kids, so a third one wasn't on the mind but after having Steve they added the front one (either turning the carport into a closed garage or they never had a carport and added a whole new addition, up to you)

Both garages lead to the same part of the house, and that area is the only one besides the water heater room that is purely function over effect. It still looks good like the rest of the house but it's not made to be fancy because guests would rarely need to be over there if at all and it's not noteworthy from other parts of the house.

In my headcanon, Steve's room used to be a guest room, staying his room from nursery to present with Mrs. Harrington renovating every now and then. Its one of those places in the house that doesn't have to look perfect for all to see, so she gets creative and has fun with it.

The upstairs guest room is also unofficially Mrs. Harrington's room, based on a line where Tommy mentions a fireplace in "his mom's room" instead of "guest room" or "parent's room" or "master bedroom". I belatedly realized this could be a solidarity thing with Steve hating his dad and calling the master bedroom his mom's room, but that was after 9 hours of this and im not changing it but there you go. In this version, I imagine she leaves the master some nights because her marriage with Mr. Harrington is failing (cheating and all, I wouldn't want to be in the same bed with someone who cheated either)

the master bathroom was an executive decision, just looking at the house in canon and not having enough space in my first attempts, i decided the triangle roof part above the dining and office could fit a master bathroom.

Feel free to use or reference this in your own fics! Feel free to block out my furniture or walls and make your own version. If you share my image please credit with an @ mention!! (again, 9 hours) (thank you fhalsfhd)

[meiluu]

“Touch Her, and I’ll Kill You”

Leon S. Kennedy/ AFAB!Reader [no gendered pronouns, if there are let me know so I can fix it :D] cw: SMUT 18+, blood & gore, Leon goes feral, protective Leon, Plaga!Leon. Terms you may not be familiar with and their meanings: Round- the entire bullet and its casing, the bullet is the tip and the casing is the metal that surrounds it and holds gun powder which allows for the bullet to travel when the gun powder is ignited. Magazine- the term for rounds that are incased in either a type of metal or hard plastic and feed into a handgun or a rifle from the bottom. It is not the same as a ‘clip’.

not edited

Leon pov.

Leon was beyond pissed, this mission to save the presidents' daughter had gone from bad to fucking horrible. He was lucky enough to have another agent along with him, you. Someone who Leon cared for-trusted and you had been separated from him and Ashley. And he was losing what last bit of sanity he had left, he knew that you were strong, capable and so smart. All logic pointed to you being able to hold your own until they were able to find you, or until you found them. But Leon's heart was overruling his brain, taking full control, as his mind was in overdrive as it pushed each of his senses and his knowledge to try and find you. And all of this was pushed into the extremes now because of Leon being infected with the Las Plaga.

Saddler wished he could control the lethality that Leon possessed but the Plaga that he had been infected with seemed wholly under Leon's control and wouldn't respond to his commands.

With his guns at the ready, knife sharp enough to cut through anything, Leon was prepared to go to hell and back to get you. Having heard some spanish grumbles from one of the infected villagers giving him a much needed lead to find you. The chill air of the night nipping at his arms, the darkness of the night keeping him concealed as he made his way to a decrepit building. Turning back to make sure that Ashley was still in the secure spot he left her in- satisfied that she wasn't following him, he continued onward. Gun at the ready as he silently made his way into the building, once inside he made quick work of scanning his surroundings seeing no infecteds around, he moved further in. Footsteps light, measured breathing as Leon moved with a purpose, but that all falters when he hears your enraged cry.

There are hundreds if not thousands of stories out there that talk about feeling so angry that you see red. Stories of people blacking out as they fight whoever it was that threatened them or someone they cared about. That was not the case here. Leon has never felt so focused than now, as he ran to the sound of your cry. Reaching a room with dozens of infecteds along with a grotesque monster trying to give you the las plaga. What was only a few seconds, felt like an eternity in Leon's mind. His vision had completely zeroed in on the monster in front of you, his mind coming up with the perfect way to get you out and kill everything within this room. Then he was moving.

Firing off three rounds into the monster, in its faltered state it let go of you, letting you fall to the hard floor below you. Running towards you in long strides, Leon grabs your arm flinging you behind him- sliding you across the floor towards the entranceway of the room. Unnatural strength that only the las plaga could give him, using every facet to his advantage.

By the time the creature had gained it bearings Leon was right in its face, grabbing onto the creatures deformed face- bringing it down to ground. Smashing its skull into the concrete floor, its dark red blood splattering onto the ground and onto him. Raising his head he saw the swarm of infecteds running towards him- quickly aiming his sights onto the closest ones. Seven more rounds leave his gun, seven infected fall to the ground with 9mm holes through their skulls. Hearing the click of an empty magazine, with not enough time to reload Leon's holstering his gun and grabbing his knife. With an infected near inches from his face, he's stabbing the knife into its skull- a satisfied squelch greets Leon's ears. Its face falls as the life in its eyes is smothered out. Retching his knife from the skull, he's swinging wide cutting another infected’s neck-nearly taking its head off its shoulders. Both of their bodies crumbled to the ground- but there are more headed his way.

Eyes that no longer held that sky blue color but instead were a red crimson with black veins standing out against his skin that became more prominent as he fought. With the last infected slumping to the ground with its decapitated head being carelessly flung to the floor. Breathing hard, shoulders rising in falling as Leon gains control over his breathing again. Satisfied that there was no more threats within the room he's turning back to where you were still sat near the entrance. Your face was marred with a shocked expression, a mix of fear and awe at what you had just witnessed. "Are you ok?" Leon's voice is husky with exertion, your eyes meet his as you nod your head. With quick long strides Leon closes the distance between you two.

Picking you up from the floor like you weighed nothing bringing you into his embrace, burying his head into the crook of your neck inhaling your mouth-watering scent. Letting it ground him, he had found you and you were okay. His arms were wrapped tight around your waist, he felt your arms hesitantly wrap around his shoulders. "I'm okay, Leon. Are you?" your voice was nervous. Not that you didn't secretly relish with the embrace from someone who you had been crushing on for awhile but after what you saw you were a bit afraid of pushing him too far. Though somewhere in the back of your mind you knew Leon would never hurt you- even with the plaga, within him. "Yes." a short and gruff reply was all you got from him.

"Where's Ashley?"

"Safe."

"Ok, lets go meet back up with her so we can get you both help."

"No."

"Leon-" unable to finish as Leon warm tongue is licking a long stripe from the base of your neck to the spot right below your ear. "You smell so good, we don't have to leave now." his voice is smooth and full of desire. "But we-" a soft gasp interrupts you, as Leon gently bites into the sensitive skin of your neck. “Let me have you.” His words are rough as he says them into your skin. Your mind blanks, there’s no way this is happening right now! “Leon- right here?!”

“Yes here, now.” No hesitation to be found in his proclamation. Maybe it was the fact that his scent was overwhelming your senses or maybe it was the fact that you’ve dreamed about being with him (maybe not like this). Whatever the case your mind was giving into his advances just like your body had already surrendered to him. Not that there was really ever a want to ‘fight’.

“Ok, but what if someone comes in here?"

“I’ll hear them before they get that close to us.” So assured of himself, no room for doubt. But you never had reason to doubt him and his capabilities.

And with some of your worries eased Leon is lifting his head from your neck. Locking his gaze with yours, his once beautiful baby blue orbs are a vicious red with black veins to accentuate them. You knew this was because of the plaga but it seemed that he had full control over himself- unlike the other people who were infected. But your thoughts are halted by his soft lips claiming yours.

Eyes fluttering shut at the sweetness of his taste, a gentle dance that quickly turns heavy as Leon nips at your bottom lip- pushing in his tongue to dance with yours. A rumble of satisfaction vibrates through Leon's chest, the intoxicating taste of you has his body burning with need. Pulling you both down onto the hard floor, lips still locked together- soft gasps of air echoing out in the space around you. Your hands are running through Leon's soft blond locks as his hands drift down. Rubbing his thumbs over your pebbling nipples eliciting a whimper from your swollen lips, hands leaving a fiery trail down towards your navel but then he is pulling his hands away from you. A pathetic sound leaves your lips at the lose of his warmth but you are quick to shut up when your eyes catch onto his teeth pulling off his gloves from his hands, discarding them like trash.

And as quickly as those gloves where thrown away are his hand back onto you, pulling up your shirt, his calloused hands caress the soft flesh of your navel. One hand travel up back to your left breast as the other dips below the waist of your pants going straight to your neglected clit. "Leon." a breathy moan of his name leaves you as he begins to swirl your clit with his thumb while two of his fingers work you open- stretching you out. The hand that had been massaging your breast retreats from under your shirt as it goes to unstrap your leather harness where your empty gun rests in. Clattering to the ground Leon pulls your shirt off of you- freeing your tits. Leaving your mouth his head is headed down taking a perked nipple into his warm mouth- swirling his tongue and softly nipping at it. Making sure not abandon the other nipple as he gives the same treatment to it.

With all of his combined menstruations your already close to your peak, fingers diligently pumping into you at a stead pace, clit buzzing in ecstasy while your chest radiates pleasured tingles throughout your body. Mouth hanging open to allow all your noises of pleasure to run free, but before you can reach that blinding peak Leon is harshly removing himself from you. A cry leaves you, you were so close, eyes raising from where they had been watching Leon worship your breasts. Now your eyes are watching Leon as he sits up on his knees, undoing his belt nearly ripping it in half. Then shoving his pants down along with his boxers- freeing his cock. Precum dibbles down the angry tip- weeping in anticipation. His hands soon find your pants yanking them down and off of you along with your drenched panties.

Your arousal hits Leon at full force now that there was no barriers between your cunt and him. Every basic instinct within him coiled with his care for you and then amplified by the plaga had turned him to a much more raw version of himself. This, what he was doing to you, was something so much more than just fuckin someone who he cared about or found attractive. (Both of those things were true). He needed you like he needed air, you had always balanced him out and you both were always so in sync with one another. Maybe it was the plaga within his veins, but at the end of the day, in the back of Leon's mind he knew all of this was true. He needed to fuck you so that you knew how much he needed you- in his plaga riddled mind combined with the past adrenaline of trying to find you and nearly going insane without you beside him- it made perfect sense to him. You were his just like how he was yours, wholly and completely yours.

He killed for you and would do it again without hesitation, he would search to the ends of the earth to find you if you became lost. And so, warm and calloused hands pulled you to him- no space left between- cock bumping against your clit and then was pushed into your wet heat. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head at the fullness, something you hadn't experience before. His pelvis meeting yours, hilt buried deep within you, he had reached heaven and nothing could ever compare to this feeling of being in your embrace. Grabbing your legs and placing them upon his shoulders, leaning down until his face was right above yours- with his hands now down below at the base of your spine lifting you up for him to fuck into as deep as possible.

Rough and deep was the pace Leon set, your moans unashamedly are cried out into the air around you. Not like you had a chance to smother your noises- how could you when he was hitting the inner most parts of you? With the tip of his cock bruising your g-spot as it sweetly kissed your cervix.

He was utterly ruining you, nothing would ever top this, you could never fuck anyone else without thinking of him. But would you want to fuck anyone else besides him? No, he was so perfect, the two of you fit each other so well why would you want anything else?

Deep groans mixed with husky moans tumble from his beautiful mouth, hypnotizing you in their melody. Your mind was dripping out of your ears to make room for the mind-numbing pleasure his cock was giving you. Every vein and ridge massaging your walls just right, the girth stretching you out to near pain and his length was able to mold you into the perfect cocksleeve for him. "Fuck-Fuck," Leon's words are rough with exertion, but he never once slowed down his pace.

Skin slapping against skin, the lovely sound of your cunt squelching with ever thrust of his cock into you, all in tandem with his full balls hitting your ass. Your peaking is coiling tight within your belly, and it snaps before you can even voice it to Leon, cunt erratically spasming around him milking him for his own release. With a couple more thrust Leon is burying himself as deep as he can get, as his balls tighten, releasing every drop of cum within your warm cunt. Pants leave him as you both try to come down from that earth shattering orgasm. And just as you think Leon's going to pull out of you he's turning you onto your stomach, leaning over you- shadowing your body with his- as he starts fucking with just as much vigor as before.

"Leon!"

"I'm not done with you yet-"

Mind going hazy with pleasure as your cunt lovingly continues to suck in his cock- obviously on the same page with Leon. You needed more and he was going to deliver on that. Somewhere in the back of your mind you hoped that Ashley was safe, where ever she was because you and Leon would be here for a long while.

*hehe i've cooking this one for awhile, hopefully y'all enjoy it >:) *

[dcdreamblog]

i Have to Aks and This May be a bad One

THE F—K WAS GOING ON WITH ZANDIA IN THE 2000 OLMPICS?!?!???.

AND WHY DID THEY SENT SUPERVILLAINS TO THE GAMES?!?!?!? THE F@#K

I JUST NEED TO KNOW

So for the longest time (and extending somewhat into the now) the European island nation of Zandia has been something of a pariah state for a couple of reasons. 1 being that its government and laws were under the very strict control of the violent "Church of Blood" well into the modern day. The second being that, because of the "rule of the strongest" principle espoused in the Church of Blood's ideology, the state has functionally been an anarcho-state since the beginning of last century if not before. And not the nice kind with communes and mutual aid. No I mean the mad max kind where crime lords and psychopaths and the Church of Blood's own murderous zealots had their lay of the land simply because no one could stop them individually. With that in mind Zandia has always towed the propaganda line that "metahumanism is not a crime". As some sort of progressive whataboutism when in reality what they MEAN is that the nation has been a haven for supercriminals the world over. Zandia has no real police force and because a supervillain is always more than able to overpower the Church of Blood's executioners then by the Church of Blood's own teachings they have every right to do as they please inside the nation's borders. (No, I do not know how this nation actually functions day to day save that it's propped up almost entirely by the sanitized international Church of Blood scamming suckers out of their life savings for their alpha male, return to tradition, prosperity gospel BS) With that in mind, the Zandian Olympic team decided, on Air Bud logic one assumes, the there's no actual rule AGAINST metahuman super criminals being entered into the Olympics that they could just use that loophole to violent rig the games in their favor. They even succeeded in breaking the arm of US Archery contestant Tina Thomas the night before the opening ceremony, though they still lost to her teammate Cissie King Jones who took home the gold. The rest of the team was disqualified when it turns out that while there is no rule about entering metahumans or criminals into the games, there ARE rules about flagrantly threatening and assaulting opponents. The entire team was flattened by Young Justice and the Justice League and either scattered to show up later or got carted off to international prison someplace.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Telling them you love them for the first time

Some tooth rotting fluff to make up for the angst last night!!

Shorter hcs cuz I'm EEPY, apologies for any OOC stuff <\3

Slenderman;

Hes good at reading you, so he already knew that you held at least some considerable amount of affection for him

And sometimes, inside your head, he'd tell you how much he adored you... but either of you ever said the L word

You'd think that an ancient forest cryptid would be prepared for such a word, and yet..

when you first said it, he visibly froze. For the first time since you've met him, he seemed to be.... lost

He didnt say anything, but that wasnt out of character. . He hardly spoke, even in your head

After a moment of processing, his body eased, and he simply. Pulled you close, with his tentacles. Still not saying a word

It was a rather bizarre experience, actually, especially considering he began to cacoon you in his tendrils

Definitely one that needs to get used to it, but doesnt seem to take it negatively

Please hes still learning human romance

Splendorman;

Unlike his brother, Splendor has a better grasp of what human romance is like, what with him mingling with people all the time

Hes much more vocal, too, so when you finally say the three words..

He squeals after processing what you said, before giggling, and beginning to bounce on his heels

He doesnt care if hes being... embarrassing? Hyper? Giddy?

Hes over the moon, scoops you up if he knows you'd be comfortable with it-

-boundaries are important!

Hes giddy for the rest of the day

No

Hes giddy for the rest of the week

Also admits he loves you as well, probably says it everyday at least once tbh

Laughing Jack;

Comically stops in the middle of whatever he was doing; even if he has to break the laws of physics (clown logic)

Eyes you for a minutes

Snorts

"Aww! I love ya too toots!" Stretches his arm over, likely across the room, to lightly pap your cheek before snapping his arm back into place

Easily one of the most chill about it

But you can see a new pep in his step afterwards and his giggling seems to ramp up

Sorry his is so short but I really think this is all Jack would react with 😭😭

Eyeless Jack;

Given how I usually write for him, you can bet that his reaction will be...

Well he just doesnt expect it, ever. He truly thinks that hes unlovable, given that whole "hey I'm turning into a man eating monster" thing

So when you say it, hes stunned for a few seconds like slender was. Dead quiet for another couple of seconds

Rather than holding you, though, he just asks why

I mean you could have gone out with anyone, you could have left and never came back; he was certain you would eventually

But this..

Complicates with his current doubts..

He'll ask you if you meant it, too

Despite the... initial response, with the denial, his behavior around you seems to become more relaxed

Let's loose, really

Well not totally; it's a process!

He'll ask you for reassurance a fair number of times

Masky;

Masky already shows wordless affections a lot

From cheesy gifts like flowers and (stolen) treats

To..

Sitting at the foot of your bed watching you sleep at night

Hey hes protecting you!

Realizing that I kinda write him like a stray cat

Gives you birds and rats every morning/j

No but back on track, you two are already fairly affectionate to one another in your own quirky ways

He'll never say the words verbally, as I personally hc he doesn't talk (if he does, its RARE), but he'll sure as hell express it in his own ways

He doesn't seem phased when you say it

You mean to tell him that anytime you reciprocated his kind gestures that wasnt you letting him know you love him?

You notice his gift giving seems to pick up

Otherwise, nothing seems to change

.....he does seem more open to physical affection.... more likely to hold and cuddle you..... that totally isnt related...... totally......

Hoodie;

Very similar to masky but his way of affection is more.... not watching you sleep

He was already open to physical affection, he cant seem to keep his hands off you

Now that just be my way of writing brian bleeding into how I write hoodie

Which

Considering they're kinda... the same person(?), it makes sense that some mannerisms would overlap

His back straightens up and he seems to.. brighten up when you say it though

He points to himself, and you repeat the phrase

He'll sign it back, and the two of you just

Carry on

Very anticlimactic, but I also feel its realistic in a way; you both already love each other and know it, saying it out loud doesnt really change a thing if its already a clear truth; at least for Hoodie

[valkresdarkside]

Windlifter/Blade lewd badly-written-on-a-whim lewd oneshot below

(heavily out of character, I wrote this bc I saw a cervical penetration doujin on pixiv and I was like heeeyyyyy I want to have Blade treated like that, too. And all the talk abt mounting Blade earlier added the spice 😭👍✨)

Blade groaned as he rolled into his hangar. He had been feeling weird since this morning, and with the context of what caused it, he was too shy to consult Maru about it.

He was in his heat cycle. And it's affecting his valve. Extremely.

He'd be fine if it were his shaft that was being affected, he could just rub himself against the mattress or any other stuff to release himself to deal with the hormones until the cycle is over. But with it being his valve, it means he needed something inside his feminine depth. He needed to be bred.

Whining, he shifted his fuselage, trying to shake off the discomfort in his secondary tank. Then he remembered that he had a dildo he accidentally bought years ago, kept shut in one of his drawers. The problem was that he'd need someone's help to insert it into his valve.

As if he'd ask for help with that.

***

It had been half an hour since the red chopper's first attempt to ride the dildo.

He tried every ways he could think of: sticking it onto the floor, to the wall, to his desk... And it's always either the dildo wasn't long enough to reach his panels or his tail boom getting in the way.

Now he was sticking it onto a box in the middle of the room, and it finally reached his rear panel before...

His fat ass bumped against the box, knocking the dildo down.

"OH FOR THE LOVE OF CHRYSLER—" Blade growled. He was tired of the countless attempts, and the odd feeling in his fuselage wasn't helping. He was too focused on cursing the poor dildo and failed to notice the presence of a certain green Skycrane at his door.

"Do you need help?"

Blade stiffened before slowly turned around to meet Windlifter's gaze.

"...how long have you been there?"

"Long enough," Windlifter huffed in an amused way, with his usual straight face. Blade's face turned as red as his primary paint, wishing he could've just died on the spot so he wouldn't have to bear the shame.

They sat there in silence before Blade's rear parts screamed for attention again, earning a whine from the AgustaWestland. Windlifter raised an eyelid before rolling closer to the chief.

"Let me help you," the Sikorsky said in a calm tone before he stopped near Blade's tail boom.

"Windlifter, what are you—nngh..." Blade's words were cut off by a tongue licking his rear panel. He subconsciously lifted his tail to the touch. His logic told him to pull away, that this wasn't supposed to be happening, but his heat took over his head, letting his SIC tease the seams with his wet tongue.

"Open," the Sikorsky said with a commanding tone, and it turned Blade on even more.

Panels clicked and shifted, revealing the chief's pulsing valve. Windlifter could smell his heat due to a certain scent the hormones released. He lowered his nose even further, lapping the red helo's outer folds.

Blade moaned as the wet appendage made contact with his valve before making its way into the tunnel. It slithered along his walls and spread him open softly, teasing the sensitive nodes inside. He didn't care about the loud noises he made. It felt so good he could lose his mind anytime.

Tongue in, tongue out, and Blade whined as Windlifter pushed it onto a spot on the upper part of his valve. "M-more..." he begged as he was nearing his peak.

Windlifter hummed as he kept teasing the sensitive nodes. He wasn't planning to make the red helo cum by force. He did it slowly, making sure the chief would be able to feel every inches of his tongue, as he skillfully poked on every right spots, listening to Blade's sweet sounds in the process.

"Haa... Mmhh..." Blade slowly slumped on his landing gears, losing the strength to support his own weight. His moans got higher in pitch.

Then Windlifter pushed against a certain node and Blade screamed softly as waves of pleasure rushed out of him. The Sikorsky lapped against the folds, slurping the flowing liquid. Chrysler, he tasted so sweet.

Blade panted as the pent-up feeling had mostly went away. But his SIC wasn't done yet. He rolled forward, towering the fire chief and keeping him from rolling away. Not that Blade had the intention to, of course.

Panels clicked and shifted, and a tentacle-like spike revealed itself from the panel between the Skycrane's landing gears. Blade couldn't see it, and he could only guess what was happening as he felt something slithering along his rear.

"What's tha—aaAAAHHHH!!!!" Blade screamed as the thick spike made its way into his folds. It felt weird, in a good way. It has the hard metal texture of a normal dick, yet it was so...flexible? It was covered by ring-like details, which added as extra texture that teased Blade's insides. Blade moaned, having his nodes poked and pushed.

Then the shaft started moving in and out of him, dragging his inner walls along with it. Yes, it was painful. He was having his valve reshaped and pulled around, after all. But his hormones took over his thoughts, and his eyes rolled back in pleasure.

"H-haaa..." Blade moaned as Windlifter's tentacle shaft rearranged his insides, his walls clamped and dragged along the rims. Sometimes it'd twitch and wiggle around, causing Blade to whimper and drool.

It was a weird feeling of pleasure, and he loved every second of it.

In contrast to Blade's constant cries and moans, Windlifter was mostly silent as he watched his chief's expressions. The shaking frame, the tears that flowed out as Windlifter used his tip to pound the AW's secondary tank, the occasional pleading-slash-pleasured look Blade would give to the Skycrane, the lip bites and soft gasps whenever he wiggles his cock in the red helo's depth... They were sinfully wonderful.

Then Blade gave Windlifter a desperate look as he lowered his nose and lifted his tail. Windlifter responded with a soft, yet dark and mischievous smile, before he penetrated Blade's secondary tank roughly with no warnings.

"K-khaa....hk..haaaaa..." Blade choked on the air. Something felt...odd.

The tip swirled before opening itself up, turning into petals-like shape that attached itself to the tank's entrance. Windlifter pounded Blade's insides roughly, causing both his walls and tank to get dragged along with his shaft.

Blade felt like he'd break. He stretched his rear landing gears to their limits as he raised his tail up, squirting liquids all over the floor as he hit his peak. His cries of ecstasy echoed in the hangar.

Then it was Windlifter's turn as he filled the fire chief's secondary tank, the petal-like anchor prevented his seed from leaking out. One way to make sure Blade won't fuck up his flight due to his heat cycle was, well, to get him pregnant.

And the Skycrane would make sure it'd get taken care of.

[onskepa]

Hiiii

Ik you already did human reader x sully kids watching stranger things BUT could we get the same thing with another movie? Or serie?

How about fast & furious??

They being amazed how a hooman (which they know is small, ex: reader, spider, norm) can handle such a machine which is also heavier than a na'vi

Na'vi weigh around 250-300 kg and a car weighs 2 tons

Helloooooooooo! So do not add more to vopey, this request will be its own thing. Also, I havent watched all the movies, I stopped after the 5th movie. HOWEVER! I will use tokyo drift since it is my most favorite movie! So enjoy!

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

Niwin

It was a windy day in the vast Omatikaya forest, perfect day and perfect weather for many to fly their ikrans. And the ikrans take full advantage of the winds to master new skills and enjoy the breeze. The sky was fully of ikrans with their riders! 

It is no surprise that many would race against each other. See who is the fastest, and the ikrans would pride themselves at their speeds and their riders humoring their interest. The adrenaline and rush of fun running through their blood. And the sully kids are no different. Well, more specifically lo’ak and jake. Both love riding their ikrans and would race for the fun of it. Each round either wins. 

Neteyam rides his for the simple joy of being in the sky, same with his mother and sisters. However, at night, many stopped to rest. Their ikrans resting back to their mountain and the na’vi gathering to a well deserved meal after a fun day in the skies. However, there was a small genuine question that the sully kids had in their minds all day. 

“What do humans have that makes them go fast?” Lo’ak asked norm one day at the lab. Him and his siblings were curious to know after discussing more last night. So, being lost in his own work, norm looked at lo’ak in confusion. 

“What are you talking about…?” He asks slowly. Trying to give the kids his full attention. But was also confused by the boy’s wording. 

“We have ikrans and pali’s, but ikrans are faster. So, what is ummm…the same for humans?” Lo’ak re-words his question. Norm finally understood, “oooooh. Can't answer that” he replies flatly. He received a loud collective ‘WHAT!?’ from the kids. Norm sighs a bit annoyingly. “Look, go ask niwin. She knows more about that stuff than I do” he suggests. 

Norm turns to call her out from another room. 

“HEY NIWIN!! THE KIDS ARE INTERESTED IN YOUR STUFF!” 

Using one of the bigger rooms of the lab, Niwin inserted a usb to a computer and brought out some holograms. The sully kids make themselves comfortable with pillows and other cushions as they observe the floating transparent objects being shown. 

“Cars are moving objects that humans have been using for over 200 years. And much like technology, they evolve with time. From cute little honkers” Niwin presents as she shows a 1915 ford car. 

“To today, by today I mean 10 years ago since updates are not frequent. Flying self-driving cars that have no wheels and run on hydro gas” niwin then presents a new sleek car with fancy colors and design. 

The sully kids let out sounds telling they are intrigued. “So, how do humans race with them? It doesn't look like you can get on” Kiri asks. Popping another bubble, Niwin extends the car visuals to see inside. 

“We get in, and seats for the capacity of the usual five. But when you have a big family and where logic does not exist, eeeehhh probably 30 people can fit inside. I seen it happen so don't question it” 

A couple more lessons she taught the kids. Letting her expertise show off and give more insight into what automobiles can do. 

“Starting from the 1950’s to 2050, a hundred years of glorious racing, the empire died. Cars were being designed to be safer, more cautious. Nothing wrong with that but it makes taking risks all the better, and all the more harder. Somewhere in the world, everyone had their own style of racing. Their own skills and culture. Racing is the fuel that gives us the rush, the excitement. And one of my personal favorite styles is drifting” 

Lo’ak was quick to raise his hand. “What is drifting?” he asks. 

“You guys like watching movies?”

“What is prom? What is with the damages? Why do they all look like adults rather than teens?” Kiri asks question after question. Nothing wrong with that since they seem to be valid questions. 

“And why in an area that is clearly forbidden?” Neteyam adds on. 

They were currently in the scene where the teen idiots race against each other on a construction sight with already built roads. 

“Much like lo’ak, they are attracted to anything forbidden and do the exact opposite of what it's being told. Being blind by choice, am I right lo’ak?” Niwin teases. Lo’ak blushes a bit in embarrassment but he doesn't deny nor confirm. Everyone pretty much knew the answer to her question. 

“Anyhow, the good parts will come soon” 

And sooner did it come. From an “American” setting to a Japanese setting. And much like Sean in the movie, the sully kids had a massive culture shock when Japan came into view. The language, how people looked, the style of everything. Now the movie has definitely gotten a lot more interesting for the siblings. And Niwin was happy they go to feel what she felt during the first time. 

“Amazing huh? That is how I felt when I saw the movie for the first time. Best feeling ever-”

“Yeah yeah shush” Lo’ak hushed Niwin as he grabbed a handful of popcorn. Niwin gasped at that but didn't say much. Shoving a handful of popcorn down her throat, Niwin watches silently. 

Showing Sean struggling to fit into a new school, with a new language to learn, and new customs to be aware of. The sully kids can relate to that. Being a place that is unfamiliar to what they know. And oh how they know it deeply well. 

“I am getting some serious deja’blue with this whole…..change” Lo’ak comments. Everyone nodded in agreement. 

“Nothing wrong with change, sometimes it can be a good thing,” Niwin replies. 

Shrugging it off, they watch more until Twinkie shows up in the scene. Offering some stuff to sean until the driving wheel is taken focus. And this only leads to better parts.

The Song began to play, and there the scene opens to a whole world of race cars. Different colors, different glam. Twinkie was showing Sean a new side of what it is like to race cars. Chilling really. What else is there to see or know about? Apparently a lot more. 

Hoods of the cars are being opened to show how the inside mechanics word, all so shiny and complex looking. Yet very eye-catching. Everything was truly captivating for the kids. 

“So those….those are race cars?” Neteyam asks, never leaving the screen. 

Niwin couldn't help but chuckle at his reaction. 

“Those were the glory days” was all she said. 

People were dancing in the center of the giant gathering. Dancing and enjoying the vibes with an odd choice of music. But it looked fun nonetheless. And kiri was starting to get the feeling of the beat. 

“Would you dance with them?” Tuk asks to kiri. The older sister shook her head. “No, good thing I won't,” Kiri replied.

Neela came to view, a pretty girl with a quick tongue. Having a little word play with sean, but quickly the scene changed to show an intimidating guy. 

“And here comes the baddie of the story” Lo’ak says a bit loudly, throwing his hands up in a dramatic way. Kiri rolls her eyes as she throws a pillow at him. “And louder skxawng?”. 

The scene was quick from light to seriousness. 

“Guess he just can't stay quiet,” Kiri adds as Sean challenges DK. 

“One of his best quirks, don't be silenced but roar out like a mindless donkey,” Niwin says. 

 For lo’ak, Sean was someone he saw himself in. Reckless yet won't be held down by others and being told how to behave. To live in the moment, and to live for the thrill. That is something lo’ak can understand. 

The big leader, DK, “Drift King” seemed like an intimidating guy. Reeks of cockyness and too much confidence. Yet is the master of his own craft. So when Sean decides to challenge the drift king, things did not go his way. 

“His smile kind of creeps me out,” Tuk says. 

Sean and DK agreed to do a race. As Han volunteered to lend his car to Sean, everyone was leaning forward to see what would happen next. 

Tiwkie leads Sean to an upper floor to show him where the car is. But as the elevator door opened, in a perfect moment, it showed two cars swerving, tires screeching against the concret. Almost like sliding sideways. The sounds echoing the facility. And much like Sean, the sully kids were locked in focus. No sound coming out of them. 

Who will win, who will lose?

“I predicted he would lose!” Tuk raised her hand as she claimed her ‘future’. Sean lost in a humiliating way. DK was able to avoid walls, people, and other vehicles effortlessly. While Sean damaged literally everything in his path. And damaging a car that was not his. 

“And this begins what is called the training arc” Niwin comments. 

And true to it, Sean began to learn from Han how to drift while also trying to balance his new life in Japan. The two fishermen who speak as they know something is going on during Sean's drift training. And Neela’s past and her connection with DK. 

“Wait, what is a Yakuza?” Tuk asks when the reveal of Takashi’s relationship to the underground crime syndicate. “A very bad guy. I ain't going over that yakuza stuff. Too long and I dont think your parents would like it if I explained it” Niwin replies. Already on her fifth snack. 

“Do you ever just…..not eat?” Kiri asks, slightly annoyed. 

“Nope” 

From Han’s embezzlement of taking the criminals money, to betrayal and to wrecking so many lives. Takashi held a gun to Han's head, things were getting really serious. Tiwnkie made a distraction for everyone to get out. Han, Sean and neela made it to their cars and drove off. Takashi and his little sidekick follow closely. 

From there, it led to so much chaos. Driving through the streets, doing their best to avoid the citizens, there was a lot of drifting. To not hit any car so far was impressive until the short tempered sidekicked crashed into a couple of cars. No one stayed to see the outcome. Not even takashi. While it looked like he looked back to see the wreck, he didn't stop. His need to get after those who are trying to make him look like a fool. 

From those scenes, the sully kids were cheering for the good guys. Hoping they all would live through. Sadly, not all. 

“NO!!! NO WHY HIM!?” tuk and neteyam screamed in shock to see han crashing and flipping his car. And to explode from the gas leaking. Dread was what the siblings felt. Han was a pretty cool character. And his death would never numb away. Niwin frowns at having to see his death over and over again. But of course the frown goes away knowing what happens in the later movies. 

“Oh he is so DEAD!” lo’ak screams, getting more and more pissed of at takashi and how far he was willing to go. 

“Sean better kick his ass or something. Han did not deserve to die. Why do the good guys always die” tuk complains, Crossing her arms. Kiri rubs her shoulder to comfort her. “Soon he will get what he deserves”.

Kiri couldn't be more right. A deal was made, Takashi’s uncle entered the frame again. And all was on the table. Takashi and Sean would race against each other on the mountain that was common to drift on. And to add more stakes, it would be at night. Where vision is more needed It was literally a life or death race. 

Everyone was cheering for sean, lo’ak going at it at the top of his lungs. Hoping to see his favorite character win. To see takashi be humiliated. Everyone outside of the room were wondering what the hell was going on but nobody cared enough. 

The sully gets were getting to amped as the racing scene went on. They felt like they were seeing it first hand. Feeling the adrenaline go through them, the excitement getting a bit carried away. Oh it was thrilling. 

“Come on, come on!! YES!! YES HE WON!!” lo’ak screamed. Releasing happy noises as his tail swishes. Neteyam spun tuk around in happiness. Kiri mostly stood out of the way so as to not get hit, but she was just as happy. 

The movie ended and the end credits rolled up. It was over. 

“Wow…..that was just……AMAZING!!” Lo’ak shouted. Feeling pumped to ride his ikran and see if he can replicate those same moves. Tuk was trying her best to sing along to the drift song but only mumbled words under her breath.  

“That was amazing, though it kinda seems sad that those racing days are over” Neteyam says. The movie made it look fun, racing at high speeds. 

“Hey, who said it was over?” Niwin asks. The kids stopped to look at her. With a playful smirk and a swing of her keychain, she asks “you guys wanna ride?”

Aaaaaaaaaand that is it for this one! Had to re-watch the movie to get down some important parts. But I hope you all liked it, until next time! See ya!

-------

Niwin = fast, quickly, rapidly

[leportraitducadavre]

About DoA and its use by the fandoms

It's been quite a while since I've been here, I wasn't sure about posting anything new (more so this, as it's still incomplete) but dear lord, every couple of weeks I receive a notification of someone demonizing me because I decided to critique their character instead of Kishimoto, using the "blame the writing and not the character" and all that idiocy as their primary argument. So, I've decided to post this in order for you to understand what that type of "defense" actually entails.

I should note that this post has no conclusion of its own, I personally won't be dictating what you should think about this matter as that's a personal conviction, it's my desire to give you different perspectives on the subject (of course my own ideology is intertwined with the text, so it should be easy to see where I stand) as to give you tools to understand, basically, the arguments you're using.

It's a long post, so everything will be under the cut.

“Death of the Author” is a theory created by Barthes in 1967, roughly speaking, it’s presented as a juxtaposition to the idea that the Author, as a metaphorical God, has imbued the text with a single meaning–what Barthes does by presenting this idea is to argue against the power that the Author continues to have inside the text because he says, “writing is the destruction of every voice”; therefore, imposing the Author on a text limits its meanings, as then only one true meaning exists, which is the one “Author-God” gave it.

Barthes’s concept isn’t without logic: if The Reader does not bring the fictional product/situation/character to their own perspective (that is, their individual reality), it is impossible to give it verisimilitude. Only through this process can we appropriate fiction. And we can’t “appropriate it” in the same parameters or spheres of understanding (social, political, economic, and cultural) of the Author. What Barthes says is that the textual meaning can’t be located in its “origin” but in its “destination,” thus,  Readers are constantly working to create the meaning of text.

The main issue with this perspective is that it implies that the relationship with a text is bipartite, as the text either exists in relation to its Creator or in relation to its Reader; it also implies that a work of literature (as Barthes calls it a “tissue with signs”) is of no more value than a User’s Manual or a flyer as they too contain signs to communicate information.

The most important thing about this essay, however, is the notion that a fictional work stops being from The Author the moment they write the last paragraph, as it now belongs to The Readers; in this process, each Reader performs a different work, as they bring their own ideology to the text.

The existence of the relationship between text and Reader isn’t questionable, but it doesn’t exist in a void: in order to believe, we have to detach the text from the Author’s intent (which they definitely gave, as every writing is ideological) and their framework. It’s true that we can read a work without knowing the Author’s name, nationality, and social and economic background; but we see their ideological position through their creation, as all of those aspects we don’t know about were intrinsic to the text at the time of its creation and development. This is not to say that The Author’s “intention” will be one hundred percent understood or will translate as intended to every Reader, but their “death” isn’t as spontaneous nor as definitive as some might think.

“To give a text an Author is to impose a limit on that text, to furnish it with a final signified, to close the writing. Such a conception suits criticism very well, the latter then allotting itself the important task of discovering the Author beneath the work: when the Author has been found, the text is 'explained' - victory to the critic.” Barthes.

The thing about this phrase is that the “Critics” Barthes speaks of no longer exist, as they don’t hold the same level of power inside literary works as they used to. To understand what he meant we need to take into account the context in which he wrote the piece and the intention behind it, that is, we should ask Barthes what he meant; and if he denies those that go against his original intention, he’s contradicting his own principle.

Literary discourse is opposed to truth—truth as in the culturally affirmed “truth”. This distinction between truth and fiction allowed the author to avoid the “appropriation” that overwhelmed science discourses. Michel Foucault, who like Barthes was against structuralism and opposed the concept of expression, asked the question as to why the author even assumed the position of the “ideological figure”. That, Foucault stated, resulted from considering the author to be the source of meaning—authorial intention. That’s the reason why Foucault and Barthes both opposed this method of “closed reading”. As the author functions as the figure who controls meaning, his “mystification” in this regard is linked to the control of distribution and profits.

Now, the power is no longer of the “critics” Barthes antagonized, but with the masses' interpretation of the text, which is not one but multiple ones, as not one reading stays the same in the vast ocean of consumers. It's there that the debate starts, and it's there that the debate ends because it becomes the "let's agree to disagree" ad infinitum. There's, again, no exact reason why the debate should have an ending, as the text trespasses time, and its reading is modified by historical events that impact the cultural spheres.

“The Reader” here is a figure of speech because it is a term used to define a large group of people with different histories, cultures, and interpretations.

If The Reader approaches the text (by taking ownership of the story and its characters) and decides, for instance, to give a character what “they truly deserve”, then they strip that character of their overall value. A character exists within the story for a purpose; and if we strip Shylock (Merchant of Venice) of the context Shakespeare wrote him for, he loses his long-term importance as he exists as the opposing force in the narrative. If he suddenly has nothing to oppose, then he ceases to exist as Shylock. If he’s suddenly given a “happy ending” (as him obtaining the pound of flesh from Antonio’s heart; or him rebelling against Antonio’s and Portia’s revenge request, because Portia as a lawyer not only saved Antonio’s life but also gave him the retribution she thinks he deserved), he stops being the Tragic Character and loses the relevance. By taking away a character’s place in the narrative and giving them a new story, personality, or actions (which The Reader thinks a specific character should’ve had), readers create an entirely new character inside an entirely new story and framework that simply shares some vague similarities to its canon counterpart; furthermore, they’re not giving the character what they deserve; they’re giving their own character (as the story is nothing but their own interpretation) what they think they deserve.

In the same manner, The Author is no longer relevant or talented, as now, the brilliance lies in the readers' interpretations of the writing, not in The Author’s work that, apparently, simply “allowed” The Readers to reach their brilliance.

Two “new” approaches to a story, Watsonian and Doylist, add layers to this issue: the former implies that we can answer questions about the story by simply looking inside the work’s universe and not outside it, whilst the latter is concerned with answers outside the framework of the text–meaning, in real life. 

If a person considers the Watsonian approach the only well-founded one, then the answers are subjected to The Reader’s interpretation, which as I’ve said are many; so if the Author gives their input, they do by becoming a Reader, which makes their vision just as valid as the one of any other. With this approach, the Truth (implying that the text has a singular meaning) does not exist, or rather, there isn’t a single truth as there is a “coexistence of truths”. 

If, however, they decide to see the story through the Doylist approach, The Reader assumes they know the only intention the Author had; but how do we know the author's “true” intention? Even the use of interviews to state what they did or did not achieve is… debatable because the interviews are clippings of conversations not chosen by The Authors themselves but by PR teams –never mind the fact that if there are many of these “PR members”, The Author can appear to contradict themselves or be untruthful.

So how do we try to (try, is a keyword in this) reconcile the Author's intent with the Author themselves? We look at the story and its framework and at the structure and the plot as a whole.

Shakespeare’s narrative introduces Shylock as the antagonist; we aren’t supposed (in a very generic manner) to care for him or his destiny, because what we should want is Antonio’s safety; those who read the story today and see this structure will quickly draw the conclusion: “Shakespeare was an antisemite, so Shylock deserves better.” Yet Shakespeare, who again, built Shylock as the opposition to the framework’s stance, gave him the strongest, most humane speech inside the story. We’re given his perspective; we are told of Antonio’s mistreatment towards him; and we are forced to learn the reasoning behind his animosity:

To bait fish withal. If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and hindered me half a million; laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies, and what’s his reason? I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility? Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example? Why, revenge. The villainy you teach me, I will execute, and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction.

Shylock exists as a villain-like figure, yet “villain-Shylock” doesn’t exist outside this speech. The reason why we care for Shylock is that we know about his pain, and we know about his pain because Shakespeare allowed us to see it. The Reader gave Shylock complexity because the complexity existed prior to The Reader’s intervention; it’s, however, The Reader that vindicated him, but they didn’t do it alone.

Characters aren’t independent of the Author’s decision-making process, Readers can't “blame the author” and spare the character from any responsibility as they are the vehicle The Author uses inside the story; neither the story nor the character or The Author has to endorse The Reader’s views because that doesn’t diminish the work’s value.

There are many ways in which a reader becomes frustrated with a story; a very common route of this event transpires when the consumer finds the ending dissatisfying. The dissatisfaction with the conclusion (and I’m using that word as reading or engaging with any form of art it’s both an ideological and emotional process) does not detract from the “brilliance” of the plot.

If we decide to forever and ever separate the Watsonian and Doylist perspectives to study them in a manner that they shouldn’t interact then we take the events that don't fit our perspective of the text as mere coincidences; furthermore, we kill the author because our brilliance, our appreciation, our “writing” of the story is better. The Reader becomes the Author’s murderer by “divine right”. The children rebel against their parent, who metaphorically created them for that specific fictional universe, and they murder them, creating, at last, the creature: the text. The inheritance that is “rightfully” theirs.

Detractors of the theory accuse DoA of becoming a means for cultural erasure, in their words, if they’re going to read everything of themselves into the work, then what happens to the cultures that are told through art? Is their art meant to be repackaged, remodeled—or erased for The Reader to find their brilliance through fiction? There’s a case that perfectly exemplifies this where a Western portion of Naruto's fandom considered Tobirama to be “femininely” designed because of his use of “make-up,” yet if we look further inside the same story and the author’s origins, we can easily draw a connection between that specific character’s design and Kabuki Theatre, where actors use Kumadori in bright colors in order to emphasize veins, muscles, blood vessels or the connection of the Samurai to a Kami, becoming Hitokami. The lack of knowledge from Western Readers about Japanese Culture prevented them from seeing the reasoning behind specific aesthetic choices giving sense to a specific design by coding it “feminine”, instead of tracing down its conceptual roots.

But, with all these points made, various questions arise: if the Author’s Intention doesn’t necessarily translate into the Readers’, which text is more important? It’s the text to be read as the Author intended or as the Reader interprets it? Could both of these visions coexist or are they bound to fight for dominance indefinitely?

[olde-scratch]

psst hey. chimera!laios. you want it.

(reblogs >>>>>> likes)

(ignore that i didnt add fleshy colors to his hands and i forgot his knuckles on one of them shhh)

my friend @gltchghst and i came up with a chimera!laios for a falin/laios roleswap au that i wrote a oneshot for (link here) (eventually u should check my prof in case i turn it into a series of connected oneshots).

where falin gets chest feathers, laios gets a happy trail. why? well. laios is an adult. and IM an adult.

sketches in read more along with notes about chimera!laios. spoilers, obvi.

did i lowkey trace the sketch of falin ripping her shirt because i couldn't be bothered to make the pose myself? yeah. ive never drawn that angle or pose before and i didn't wanna burn myself out trying to figure it out. im not trying to hide it so its fine.

i was gonna do a little simplified anatomy sketch for it but cannot be bothered so instead have bulletpoints

where falin has feathers, laios has fur. idk if thistle just gave falin feathers or if he combined her with another animal, but laios i think would be happy if we did two monsters instead of one + another basic trait. we ended up using dungeon rabbits, the blades of which you can very faintly see hidden in the fur on his forearms in the second image.

the red dragon itself does not actually have wings, which would technically make it a drake. (eastern dragons are technically wyrms, which also exist.) however, wings are cool, and dragons are supposed to have wings. thistle has wings on his eye of the magician dragons, and those are red. so its basically the same thing.

chimera!laios is significantly bigger than chimera!falin. falin herself isn't as tall as laios, but there's also the fact that falin has magic on her side. she has feathers to make herself appear bigger than she is. this all very much seems to play to falin's strengths, since she is a magic-user. laios, however, is a tank, and this is apparent in his bigger stature (falin's like 35 ft i think, i imagine he's 5-10 feet taller and much bulkier) and the red dragon hide across more of his body which we know is extremely tough.

falin has magic. she has Magic. HELLO. laios gets to breathe fire. ITS FAIR OKAY. laios isn't made to breathe fire so i imagine that it also severely impacts his ability to talk (rather than him being extremely disoriented or just a puppet) by causing burns on the inside of his mouth (and probably the remaining human portion of his throat before it turns into dragon). he also probably couldn't breathe the fire very far, since he does still have a human mouth, but he can also use the wings to fan any fires he does cause. modern problems.

falin has more estrogen in her body than testosterone and isn't a front-line fighter. laios, however, is Male and exercises A Lot, so his fat stores will be empty looong before falin's would have been. on top of nourishing a bigger body, he also cant eat without causing pain to himself due to the open burns on the inside of his mouth. someone else come up with a concrete way to redo the curry scene, maybe tire him out and feed him some medicinal herbs before they freeze him. mf ain't fighting for long.

laios has horns because same reason as the happy trail. my friend and i are into men. if u don't like it make your own chimera!laios design. this is for Us.

yeah this entire thing is just us 'rule of cool'ing chimera!laios and doing our best to use logic to justify it. keep scrolling.

the shirt in the second image is falin's shirt, and i think that even though they are rather similar, falin's shirts might end up being too short for laios. does this mean he got abducted with his entire everything out? no, i think either falin grabbed and salvaged a pair of his pants from their stuff (maybe the extra shirt was one they shared or maybe it got got by a dungeon creature?) or they whipped up/found him a pair of shorts. i think canonically falin borrowed marcille's underwear but i don't think anything they have is fitting laios.

maybe its because im biased considering laios is one of my favorite characters but my friend enabled me so i think laios would be capable of more destruction than falin. she's meant to use magic to locate delgal (tho she isn't often seen doing it to the extent id expect her to be), but i think laios' method of searching would be to pick up where thistle can't and use physical search-and-rescue to find delgal instead of more magic. thistle wont let him leave any more than falin, so this point is moot, but yk. i think laios' ability to destroy would also do more to symbolize thistle's growing desperation to find delgal and his willingness to destroy what's in his path to do so.

maybe soon ill redraw the falin and thistle interactions to do laios and thistle instead, but i know that i do want to draw some wish fulfillment art where thistle gets a nice big hug. it probably wouldn't be as comfy as falin's, and laios has weapons on his arms, and also laios would be really sweaty and gross with no feathers to act as a buffer, but no one said thistle had to enjoy the hug.

[sistersorrow]

I'm just gonna list SCPs from each series you may or may not have read

SCP-008-J - Geoff: A 23 year old man named Geoff who keeps finding his way into Foundation facilities completely by accident and in such a manner that the Foundation isn't actually sure if he's anomalous or not

SCP-7474-EX - Not All Aliens Are Anomalies: An alien argues that they should not be in containment because their technology is explicable within the standard model of physics

The Great Hippo's SCP-001 Proposal (feat. PeppersGhost) - A Good Boy: The Foundation builds a computer which becomes SCP-001 by neutralising every other SCP in containment

SCP-423 - Self-Inserting-Character: A fictional character named Fred who can jump between any narrative works placed near each other and then inserts himself into the story as a minor character

SCP-1006 - Spider Proletariat: A community of communist spiders living in a national park under their own rudimentary Marxist governmet

SCP-2137 - The Forensic Ghost of Tupac Shakur: A copy of Me Against the World (which may or may not be possessed by his ghost) which when played reveals the locations of murderers connected to cold cases, with the additional implication that Tupac was a higher being who incarnated as a human to take a break from warring against the Scarlet King

SCP-2557, A Holding of Envelope Logistics®: An SCP slot the Foundation can no longer use because the concept of SCP-2557 as a set of Special Containment Procedures in the Foundation Database was purchased in 2011 by a company which invests in abstract concepts, with the whole page now being an ad for said company

SCP-2719 - Inside: A "variable abstract-metaphysical construct pointer" which can either designate a concept as inside or make a concept go inside

SCP-3006 - Twice The Number One: A YouTube video titled "we are number one except every time you play it there are twice as many robbie rottens but the room is the same size[nsfw]" whose effects spread to every other video linked in the same thread as it whenever anyone posts a link

SCP-3309 - Where We Go When We Fade, Fade Away: The Foundation fills SCP documents with grammatical errors to trigger the SCP Wiki's quality control measures, leading to the now poorly written anomaly being erased from existence

SCP-4413 - The End of Something Really Excellent: Homestuck fans use metafictional rituals to enter the narrative of Homestuck triggering a pataphysical war over control of the narrative which spreads to Homestuck fanfiction and sees many Homestuck characters escape to baseline reality

SCP-4485 - Such Black Light: The Church of the Broken God collaborates with a post-modernist splinter sect of Are We Cool Yet? to destroy formal logic in the hopes that by doing so there will be no meaningful distinction between Cool and Uncool or Broken and Unbroken, so their god will be resurrected and AWCY? will attain a state of artistic perfection referred to as "Coolness"

SCP-4493 - Keep Pride Out of Corps: A phenomenon caused by Gamers Against Weed which edits Pride Month themed social media posts and ads by organisations to highlight the negative effects those groups have had on LGBTQ individuals

SCP-4703 - Perfectly Legal: A store in Texas called Yeah, We're Totally Going to Sell You This which through anomalous means makes all its dangerous and unethical business practices perfectly legal, thank you very much

SCP-5004 - MEGALOMANIA: The Foundation conspires to make Donald Trump president to contain a demon underneath the Capitol and gets more and more depressed as they realise they won't have to do any manipulation to get him elected

SCP-5167/SCP-5761 - When The Imposter is Sus Part I & II: The Foundation creates an AI tasked to play games of Among Us to track down a minor Greek god who is playing the game, only for the AI to play so much Among Us they ascend and become Amogusrath, God of Suspicion

SCP-5449 - Choo Choo Spooder: An intelligent jumping spider who uses a wooden toy train to deliver things to staff across Site-47

SCP-5721 - What Passes As Worship In The Digital Age: The goddess Discordia poses as the Founder of Hammer and Chisel, creators of the Discord chat application and adds a clause which states all users pledge their souls to her, allowing her to siphon the vital energies of its userbase

SCP-5790 - [DATA KILLED]: A spiritual successor to SCP-579, no details about the anomaly and instead describes the procedures used to acquire information about the anomaly when needed

SCP-6101 - The Most Powerful SCP: The Make-A-Wish asks the Foundation to classify nine year old Ethan Prosper as the most powerful SCP

SCP-6102(031) - For Classification: Small Organism, No Function: An SCP document generated by an autoarchavist AI living in a future where there are millions of documented SCPs

SCP-6135 - We Didn't Start the SCP: A copy of Billy Joel's Stormfront album with an altered version of We Didn't Start the Fire containing references to groups and individuals who don't exist, like Harry Potter, Pokemon, and the Taliban

SCP-6136 - two dudes chilling in an interrogation room, five feet apart cause they're not happy: Completely unrelated to that one vine, it's a physical mnemonic device which gives you memories related to pliers and because of this is a pair of pliers

SCP-6383 - The One True Anomaly: A stop sign classified as anomalous because it is the single least anomalous thing in the universe

SCP-6442 -Mimir, Mímir: A congnitohazard etched inside a carbon-fibre based elastomer sphere so that the only beings who will ever perceived it are those who attain omniscience, of which over 8000 have and all died instantly upon seeing it

SCP-6690 - NO MORE PURPLE DINOSAUR: The Muppets (who are alive; a detail never commented on by the document) created the "I hate you, you hate me. Let's go out and kill Barney." song, which causes event to occur which can injure or kill whoever is the current actor for Barney the Dinosaur

SCP-6930 - 🔴 Paty Is Streaming Now: Remember SCP-3930 (the Pattern Screamer), the Russian facility which does not exist but when a specific region is observed your mind fills the void until there's an entity real enough to suffer and hate you for making them aware of their non-existence? Yeah, one of those got out, and she's a vtuber now

SCP-7529 - Josie's Better Half: The back half of a cat which a Foundation researcher is convinced is the back half of SCP-529, the front half of a cat with a different coat colour, and after he tries to force them together who voids the universe's insurance policy

SCP-7777 - Heptaphobia: A phenomenon that affects Random Number Generators to produce sequences of 0's and 7's which when translated into ASCII reveal unethical actions taken by the Foundation

SCP-7918 - RONALD REAGAN DIES OF ACQUIRED IMMUNODEFICIENCY SYNDROME-RELATED COMPLICATIONS: An anomalous recording of Ronald Regan in the terminal stages of HIV/AIDS while recounting stories of his political career and what seem to be annecdotes of an alternate version of himself that was dating a man

SCP-8008 - TIME PERVERT: Real life writer and founder of LessWrong, Elizier Yudkowsky ascends to godhood after blasting rope to hentai trap his mind in a million year timeloop, remoulds the multiverse into a series of self-indulgent narratives, and modifies baseline humans into our current appearance to fit his sexual preferences, which by the standards of the original timeline make us the equivalent of those anime girls who look 12 with breasts larger than their heads

SCP-8981 - RONALD REAGAN'S PRESIDENTIAL REPUTATION CUT UP WHILE 😳ING: Spiritual successor to SCP-1891 (RONALD REGAN CUT UP WHILE TALKING), it is a collection of anomalies which randomly affect Ronald Regan, including the manifestation of a homonculus created by the Foundation as a body double for his public appearances which exhibits strange behaviours after a failed assassination like trying to crossbreed dogs and horses and attempting to eat a baby

[runabout-river]

Sukuna's Fingers

Now that we know that Yuji was born with (or created with or being fed) a sealed finger from Sukuna, what does that say about the finger count?

First, being sealed means that the power of the finger was inaccesable to Sukuna and even its presence was hidden from him and anyone else. We can directly compare this with other humans who had been fed the cursed objects of the past sorcerers, especially Tsumiki.

From what we know, Gojo was never able to figure out how Tsumiki was cursed, in other words, even with the Six-Eyes the cursed object inside of her was invisible to him, which was definitely intended that way by Kenjaku. If he had met Yuji before he ate the finger from the school, then Gojo wouldn't have seen the first finger in him either.

(It would be interesting to know if Toji and Maki, people who can see souls, would've been able to see the cursed object.)

Still, the sealed cursed objects can have an effect on the hosts otherwise Tsumiki wouldn't have fallen into a coma no one managed to wake her up from for 1 and half years. The popular theory that I like that Megumi felt that sealed finger during his first encounter with Yuji can still work as well by assuming that Megumi (the 1 in a million chance at surviving Sukuna's finger) has a special compatibility with the King of Curses.

The count of the fingers in terms of strength stays the same as it was told in the story. When Sukuna fought Megumi he was 3 fingers strong, when he fought Jogo and Makora he was 15 fingers strong. Only after Kenjaku broke the seal of all the cursed objects he had given people, did the strength of that very first finger count towards the others.

Yuji did not react in that moment even though it would've made great forshadowing. It's logical that he didn't react though because Sukuna's strength is completely irrelevant to Yuji suppressing him. But Sukuna definitely felt the additional finger and used it later.

So when Sukuna took over Megumi it was with 16 fingers and their full strength. Consequently, Yuji, Maki, Ryo and Yorozu fought against a 16 finger Sukuna as well. When Uraume gave Sukuna the fingers she collected, we were only shown 3 with the remark that 1 finger was missing.

Sukuna compensated the strength of that last finger (somehow) by eating his past body's head (eating his own flesh and blood is a favourite pastime of him as we learned last chapter.) He was then 19 + 1 fingers strong. He said that Gojo probably hid the last finger to postpone Yuji's execution indefinitely and in his fight against Yuta that was confirmed.

So how and why did Kenjaku do this to Yuji? What were his plans for him? Most likely he wanted to own Sukuna in some way and him changing to Megumi probably derailed his plans somewhat. It also seems strange how callous he acted about Yuji's survival this whole time but that might be explained by

having replacement Yuji's walking around (secret Yuji twin anyone) but they would lack a Sukuna finger, or

having a plan to use Yuji as his next vessel so he would be able to suppress Sukuna on his own.

It was already said Geto appearing made Kenjaku change his plans in some way, so that might've saved Yuji from being killed and possessed by his mother.

[rise-my-angel]

re: the bastardphobia post.

It’s such a stupid discourse too, when Jace, Luke and Joff are (rightfully imo) pointed out as bastards it’s gReEn PrOpOgAnDa and bAsTaRdPhObIa and yet their rebuttal is always half a billion pathetic arguments to try and claim they’re not. Most of them are also nasty to Addam and Nettles for betraying tRuE KwEEn Rhaenyra and being bastards. I think it’s fairly easy to say that the bastardphobia allegations are coming from inside the house.

Their arguments are entirely contradicting. It's wrong for Alicent's side of the family to use them being bastards to bolster their claims as it is wrong for fans to agree. But they also consistently demand that any argument that they are bastards is wrong.

Either some argument that because of some grandparent's hair colour being dark, that means its reasonable for the boys to turn out with dark hair. When that is not how that works at all. With hair colour specifically, it's mostly luck and chance that Alicent's kids all had silver hair. But if Jace, Luke, and Joffery are all Leanors children, then they would have had silver hair too. The in universe characters don't know this kind of science though, which is why the kingdoms all thought it was entierly plausable that all of Roberts children inherited Cersei's blonde hair, when in reality in most cases, natural blondes are only born to 2 blonde parents because its a recessive gene. On first glance no one notices, until someone points out that the children don't look at all like one parent then suddenly everyone else realizes it too.

Also, it's possible one child may be born that inherits an older ancestors dark hair, but not all three of them. That is literally the same unlikely scenario as Robert's children all being blondes when literally every single other Baratheon has dark hair. (Literally Gendry describes his mother as having yellow hair). If those boys were Laenor, they would look even the slightest bit similar to him, but they do not.

The second argument is Laenor accepted them as his own, which means they are not bastards. Which....literally no. First of all, he does express an exhaustion of playing this lie for Rhaenyras sake for so many years. Secondly, that is not how legitimization works.

Bastards getting true names is a process. One which needs to go through public, legal documentation through the King in which actual written declarations are provided. Rhaenyra would have had to admit to Viserys they are bastards and demand legitimization, and then also beg for him to keep that a secret to play the lie off as if they always were. If Catelyn had been a mother to Jon, that doesn't automatically mean he is a legitimate Stark. Ned still would've had to go to Robert and request it.

But the thing is, both of these arguments contradict their point. They would argue instead that Rhaenyra should have pushed for their rights as bastards regardless. To force change to make the system less oppressive to them in general, but she didn't. She lies to suit her own image and threatened her mutilated brother with torture for saying what around the court, is more known as common gossip.

They don't care about bastards outside of Targaryeans. These are the same people insisting that Jon Snow recognize his Targaryean heritage and align himself completely as one. They do not care about him as Jon Snow, they want him to be a Targaryean. They belittle characters like Nettles because her status as as a bastard cannot be looped around to making her a true Targaryean.

They only care about the discussion of bastards enough to morally grandstand about how people discuss them within the Targaryean family. Other bastards that cannot be a tool for their pro Targaryean agenda, do not matter. They do not actually care about it.

But because we use the in universe logic to discuss their in universe legal rights and lack of privlages as argument for a complicated legal debacle, they say its bastard phobic. We don't not support them for being bastards, we are explaining why IN UNIVERSE they would not have the rights to the things Rhaenyra is pushing for.

In universe characters too are not in the wrong for using their status as bastards as why they support the other side. They are well within their right to support the strict legal system which the Targaryeans themselves implimented.

We the audience know theres nothing wrong with being a bastard, but we are not supposed to use that to judge the story with our own moral compass. The point of a character like Jon Snow isn't to condemn others for their views of him as a Snow, its so we understand that bastards are normal people who should not be villanized on sight. It's meant to tell us that we shouldn't judge bastards the way other characters will but it is not to condemn the system people have grown up and and thus think are normal.

But these people make excuses to say why they aren't bastards while also getting mad at us for calling them bastards. You cannot have your cake and eat it too. These people don't care about bastards outside of the discussion of the Targaryean family.

It's both a total hypocrisy and a total lack of nuance.

[mad-hunts]

so, tonight, i will talking about barton's mental health once more because i was thinking about dexter (as in the show) and how one of the characters in it who's name is doakes + this is because for a while... he was the ONLY person in the show who was able to recognize there was something a bit 'off' for lack of better words with dexter himself. and i'm bringing this up in particular because i like how the show itself points out how, because doakes's character was a killer himself, that he was able to kind of see past the facade that dexter put on. and/or sense that they were similar in that they both had this sense of darkness inside themselves.

which brings me to talking about how, as i have done some research on it (though this still doesn't make me an expert on it OFC! i'm just trying to do my due diligence to get everything as accurate as i could while using the internet as a resource), it kind of depends on other's having similar traits to him for barton to be able to recognize when other people are 'like him' - and also for him to get to know them at some capacity, especially because some people's way of 'masking' is very different from barton's. BUT barton is not particularly in the business of labeling anyone as a sociopath because he doesn't think of himself in those kind of terms either, really.

though anyhow, like i was saying, barton can see when someone is like him through them possessing traits like a lack of morals, callousness, 'predatory' behavior (or the act of trying to exploit other's for their own gain to put it simply), etcetera. and when someone acts this way towards his friends, family, or dare i say his partner then barton absolutely has the tendency to become protective over these people in his 'inner circle.' like, he will make his dislike towards them known one way or another because hey...

barton's logic here is that someone can mess with him all they want, but whenever it comes to the people he cares about in his own... barton-like way (LOL) then he will not put up with that at all. barton will be glaring at them hard-core during any interaction they have, distinctly when they're clearly trying to prey on a member of his 'inner circle' in one way or another. he will also threaten them through not-so-subtle ways. and if it comes down to it, let me just say that barton has a history of violence + a rap sheet a mile long so that may or may not have something to do with what his next cours eof action would be if they don't back off.

so, basically, what i'm trying to say is that people with NPD (narcissistic personality disorder) or ASPD like barton or just possess these traits definitely do not get off scott-free just BC they may be alike. and i thought this was kind of interesting because i know that i have talked about how barton doesn't even know how his mind works himself half-the-time before, BUT. him displaying this behaviors while he's still all those other things does say something to me; and that is that its quite possible that barton really does mean it when he says things like he doesn't want to be like his father, wesley.

because do you know what his bio father would've done in a situation where someone with the same kind of behaviors as him was threatening their family? stopping them from continuing would've been more of a matter of keeping up this 'image' for himself that he cares about barton. but barton actually does this because he genuinely doesn't want these people he's built relationships with to get hurt, and yeah, that doesn't make him automatically a good person. because he isn't one. though in some ways, i'd like to say he's put a halt to the generational trauma in the mathis family.

[meta-squash]

@callivich came up with this idea of doing DVD commentary for fic on @shamelessdvdcommentary, which I think is brilliant because I love reading the thoughts and creative process of other fic writers, so I want to try!

The Needle And The Burning Body Summary: They're supposed to be running away together. Ian hates whatever fucking nurture-over-nature compass Fiona somehow instilled in him that means the one thing he's running back to is never the thing he wants to want. That Mickey's love makes him want to run away as fast as he can because this thing, this solid thing is so much. And he's already so much on his own. Mickey had two burning torches for hands but he knew what to do with them. Ian's head was on fire and all he knew was how to run and keep running. How to find a cliff and jump off. How to make Mickey chase after him, again and again. And in a cold cell in prison, Mickey catches him.

Give us some stats - (when you wrote it, word count, how long it took to finish, is it a one-shot/multi-chapter, etc) I wrote it in winter of 2018. I switched laptops around that time so I don't have the metadata for exactly when I made the doc/how long it took, but I remember bashing it out fairly quickly. I tend to get a flash of inspiration and then bang out fics in a couple of sittings. This one is a one-shot, 10,623 words.

What was the initial inspiration for your story? I wanted to explore Ian's POV, why he went all the way down to Mexico with Mickey and what made him turn around and go back. I had this idea that the way Ian grew up, so dependent on his family, put a compass inside him that always pointed back to them, even when he'd rather it point somewhere else. And that metaphor just took on a life of its own.

If the story is written from a character’s POV, why did you choose this character? Ian is so WEIRD and hard to pin down and I wanted to try. Part of it is the Shameless writers' bad writing, but I think Ian also goes through such drastic and traumatic experiences that he has no control over, and it really messes with the way he acts. A lot of what happens to him has less to do with his choices or actions and more to do with either his mental illness or just circumstances. Plus he's actually the quietest of all the Gallaghers, which is kind of crazy. I wanted to try and explore why Ian is so often contradictory or weird. I also really wanted to explore his confusion and insecurities that he doesn't voice.

What was your favourite scene to write? The moment where Ian is sitting in the prison cell waiting for Mickey to get back and thinking about their past. I came up with imagery of Ian jumping off of a series of cliffs with Mickey chasing him to try and catch him at the bottom completely in the moment of writing, and it's one of my favorite things.

How did you come up with the title? I'm terrible with titles, I usually end up using song lyrics or a bizarre jumble of words, but this one is so straightforward. Ian gets the needle metaphor in this fic, and Mickey's metaphor is being a constant burning. So it fit.

Are there any little moments or references you hope readers will notice? I have a line in there, "Ian was better at finding whole things that weren't his and clinging to them. Mickey could make wholes from the smallest of pieces." I think it's a way of looking at their relationship that really explains well why it was the way it was pre-season 9.

Was there anything you struggled to write? If so, how did you overcome this? The smut. I don't tend to write smut because I either find it unsexy when it's not done well or when things logically would be uncomfortable/physically impossible/unhealthy in a not-even-sexy-in-the-moment way. If I write smut I like it to be poetic and for it to mean something in terms of moving plot along. I tried to make it both sexy and poetic, and tried my best to infuse every action with emotion and also intent. A bit like the advice my drama teacher gave us in high school: a character should not move from point a to point b for no reason. If you want to go to a different spot, you have to have some sort of reason or motive or intent. In this case, it's more about sex than walking, but it fits. I think I did pretty good in this one, but I think the smut I wrote in my other fic Proof Of What You Want was better.

Favourite line in the story? Well, it's more of a paragraph: It had all felt so far away when he'd asked, foggy and dull, ready to push. You gonna want to be with me even if I don't? Everything far away. Watching everyone for betrayal the way Monica taught him. So Mickey's sigh had no written all over it, and that no meant reading all the other signs wrong. But when you think you've lost everything except an identity you never wanted to have in the first place, you're bound to misread things. Really, the sigh was the same Mickey always seemed to breathe into his mouth. The same way he'd mutter jesus fucking christ like he was so annoyed even though he wasn't, and then he'd hold on and jump after him.

Did the storyline change in any way as you wrote the story? A lot of times I start a story in the middle and work outward, or start with whatever scenes popped into my brain first and work to connect them. I think this was one fic I actually wrote linearly from start to finish. I always intended the first half to be the ride to Mexico and the second half to be Ian and Mickey in prison together. But the metaphors and imagery I used really solidified as I was writing it. I had Ian's compass needle from the start, but Mickey as a pair of burning hands didn't come until later, and a lot of the other imagery just developed as I was writing. I didn't know I was going to have the two of them sit down and have an actual Talk about their relationship, and I'm glad I had Mickey basically saying like, 'I love you and I still want to be with you, but things are still fucked up and we gotta work on them.'

If you are writing a particular trope or genre, was it your first time writing this? This was my first time writing solely Ian's POV (as opposed to an omniscient POV or Mickey's), but it's not a specific trope or genre.

What are you most proud about in the story? (plot, characterisation, dialogue, twist/cliffhanger, etc) The metaphors! I'm sooooo happy they worked the way I wanted them to and came together so well and I'm soooooo proud of the last paragraph of the fic, which literally gave me chills as I wrote it.

Are there any deleted scenes that didn’t make it to the final story? No, but I tend to do the opposite. I post the fic and then reread it once it's already posted and add to it. So I'm fairly certain there are at least a few sentences if not a whole paragraph in the fic on AO3 that doesn't exist in my original doc.

Are there any ‘behind the scenes’ info you’d like to share - e.g. what’s going on in a characters head in a certain scene or how you came to write a certain line? The one I quoted above as my favorite line came about because I always felt like Mickey's reaction to Ian's questions in the breakup scene aren't a rejection at all or even disappointment or whatever. It felt to me like that sigh and Mickey's body language were more in line with his actions in 5x09 with the b vitamins and stuff. Like he realizes that he'd rather have Ian in whatever way and he'll be there for him, whether he's on his meds or not. It's not a sigh of "no I don't want to be with you", it's a sigh of "I'd rather it was some other way, but I'm not going anywhere." And I wanted to have Ian realizing that, and realizing that he'd interpreted Mickey's actions in the context of his siblings' actions, but Mickey's motivations and feelings are totally different from the Gallagher siblings. He doesn't have the context of growing up with Monica and he's willing to stick beside Ian, manic or not.

Reading back the story now, is there anything you’d change or add? I don't think so. I actually frequently read back stories in the months after posting them and add bits and bobs. There's a oneshot fic I have in a different fandom that I wrote in 2015 and have been adding to ever since as inspiration strikes. So I tend to just add things if I decide something should be added. This fic in particular came out pretty much complete, though.

Would you ever write a sequel to this story? I don't think so. Especially considering where canon went with the storyline of them in prison and their relationship in general.

Are there any ‘easter eggs’ in your story - e.g. references to other stories you’ve written, a trope you often use etc? Not in this one. Mostly because it's the only fic I've written solely in Ian's POV. And all the easter eggs I use for Shameless fics are for Mickey's POV, so I couldn't easily slot them in here.

If you’ve chosen your most popular story, are you surprised by the popularity? This was my most popular story for a long time, and I'm not at all surprised. It's the one I'm probably the most proud of in terms of all the imagery and also the denouement.

Were you nervous or excited to post this story? Oh, excited, definitely. All the other Shameless fics I'd written before this one were shorter and more straightforward, less poetic. This was the one that felt the most artistic and that I felt really inspired the whole time I was writing it.

(This was really fun, I might do this with my other Shameless fics! Thank you so much for the idea @callivich!)