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apocalypticavolition · 11 days

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Let's (re)Read The Dragon Reborn! Chapter 2: Saidin

I am running out of pictures so rapidly it's alarming. It's as if I've moved beyond the territory of the show and the comic books and so all we've got left is text, which is apparently terrible for engagement. Also terrible for engagement is warning people about spoilers, which is why I won't tell anyone who doesn't already know that this post contains spoilers for the whole of The Wheel of Time series. Come right in and make lots of outraged replies about how I've ruined everything for you instead.

This chapter starts with the dragon's fang symbol, probably because it's literally called "Saidin" and Rand will be fucking things up with it.

All the women who came insisted on speaking to Moiraine immediately, and alone. The news that Moiraine chose to share with the rest of them did not always seem very important, but the women held the intensity of a hunter stalking the last rabbit in the world for his starving family.

It's almost like they're working for an Aes Sedai, and not just any Aes Sedai but one of the few left who tries to live up to the old standard. I'd think that pretty important too unless I was literally dyingn of thirst.

Or ever, he added to himself. Moiraine had kept them there all winter. The Shienarans did not think she gave the orders, not here, but Perrin knew that Aes Sedai somehow always seemed to get their way. Especially Moiraine.

I get that you're stir-crazy bro but do you really WANT to be wandering the wilderness in the middle of winter, fighting battles that you can avoid by staying still? What alternatives do you have other than "Don't do what Moiraine wants because she's Aes Sedai"?

“The Tinker woman is going to die,” she said softly, eyeing the others near the fires. None was close enough to hear.

It's times like this you can remember why Min doesn't particularly want her powers. She's probably seen quite a few people who were going to die soon by this point, just because when you walk by so many people in a city it's bound to happen sooner or later.

“Is that her name? I wish I didn’t know. It always makes it worse, knowing and not being able to. . . . Perrin, I saw her own face floating over her shoulder, covered in blood, eyes staring. It’s never any clearer than that.” She shivered and rubbed her hands together briskly.

I wonder if these omens she sees are realistic enough to be as traumatizing as seeing the actual thing.

He thought of the wolves. No! The scouts would find anyone or anything trying to approach the camp.

Good job helping fulfill Min's prophecy, Perrin. Things might have been different if you'd used your resources to your fullest advantage.

She had told him; she had tried warning people about bad things when, at six or seven, she had first realized not everyone could see what she saw. She would not say more, but he had the impression that her warnings had only made matters worse, when they were believed at all.

Poor Min.

It had made him cautious and careful, and regretful of his anger when he let it show. “I am sorry, Min. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I did not mean to hurt you.” She gave him a surprised look.

Really I think my problem with Perrin is that it's very obvious that he has completely over-corrected for problems in the past to the point where he's now too afraid to do much of anything on his own.

“Strange,” she said softly, “how you seem to care so much about the Tuatha’an. They are utterly peaceful, and I always see violence around—” He turned his head away, and she cut off abruptly.

And again, it's other women tearing Perrin apart with words much more than him hurting them physically or emotionally. Perrin's problem is that at heart he absolutely agrees that violence is damaging even in self-defense but he exists in an Age where that self-defense is very necessary.

She rolled her eyes at Perrin, a wry twist to her mouth. “All I wanted was to live as I pleased, fall in love with a man I chose. . . .” Her cheeks reddened suddenly, and she cleared her throat.

1. Min, almost no one chooses who they fall in love with. 2. You're lucky you're blabbering in front of Perrin and Loial and not anyone with an understanding of love because for all your "don't like to talk about your visions" thing, you sure are signposting it for everyone.

The Ogier looked at them, suddenly shy, his ears twitching. “Promise you will not laugh? I think I might write a book about it. I have been taking notes.”

Really, you could argue that Loial has hardly been swept up into the ta'veren stuff at all yet. If he'd met anyone so interesting as Rand and crew, he might have chosen to go traveling with them anyway. After all, his choosing to leave the groves had nothing to do with them.

Uno, who could hardly say a sentence without a curse, spoke now with the deepest respect. The others echoed him. “Honor to serve.” Masema, who saw ill in everything, and whose eyes now shone with utter devotion; Ragan; all of them, awaiting a command if it were Rand’s pleasure to give one.

While Rand of course dislikes this treatment, I do think that having to deal with this for a few months is the start of his arrogance. You can't be treated like this by every normal person you spend time with without it starting to rub off on you.

And aside from Moiraine and Lan, there were only the three of them—Min, Loial, and him—who did not stare at Rand as if he stood above kings. And of the three only Perrin knew him from before.

It's rather unfortunate that Perrin instinctively understands why Rand needs him here and tosses that aside much later on in the story. All three of the boys seem to backslide a bit as a result of what happens to them.

A man—a thing!—everyone was taught to loathe and fear from childhood. Only . . . it was hard to stop seeing the boy he had grown up with. How do you just stop being somebody’s friend?

Prejudices - even really rational ones like "Don't trust the dudes who can and will melt you in their sleep" - tend to have a hard time sticking around in the face of empathy, which Perrin to his credit does have a lot of. It's why he's a little better at dealing with this stuff than Mat.

He began to laugh mirthlessly, his shoulders shaking. “I have the duty, because there isn’t anybody else, now is there?”

Rand's not going mad from the taint here, but rather from the reality of his position finally setting in. The weight of the world is on his shoulders so it's understandable that he's cracking under the strain. And that more than anything is why Moiraine is right to have him wait - if he did go out onto the Plain in this state he'd probably snap in battle instead of thrive like he has before.

Perrin almost laughed himself, in confusion. “If you agree with her, why in the Light do you argue all the time?” “Because I have to do something. Or I’ll . . . I’ll—burst like a rotted melon!”

Like Perrin, Rand's big problem in this sequence is that he doesn't have any viable alternatives and just whines a lot instead. There's a lot Rand could be doing (more training with Lan, trying to learn politics from Moiraine, studying with Loial, etc.) but instead of dedicating himself to his fate he just laments all the deaths that are happening in his name instead. This is naturally only going to lead to more problems down the line.

Rand shivered; despite the chill, there was sweat on his face. His eyes were still shut tight. “Oh, Light,” he groaned, “it pulls so.”

Nope, this isn't taint madness either (I will be doing my best to demonstrate to you why NONE of his craziness in this book can be chalked up to that specifically). Remember: Rand is a wilder and he's still in that awkward "could easily draw enough power to burn himself out because he doesn't even know the proper exercises for starting out with the power" phase.

Rand stood with his head thrown back, his eyes still shut tight. He did not seem to feel the thrashing of the ground that had him now at one angle, now at another. His balance never shifted, no matter how he was tossed. Perrin could not be certain, being shaken as he was, but he thought Rand wore a sad smile. The trees flailed about, and the leatherleaf suddenly cracked in two, the greater part of its trunk crashing down not three paces from Rand. He noticed it no more than he noticed any of the rest.

The land and Rand are one, so he externalizes his temper tantrum out onto the world to avoid having to acknowledge his actual feelings.

Rand looked around as if seeing things for the first time. The fallen leatherleaf, and the broken branches. There was, Perrin realized, surprisingly little damage. He had expected gaping rents in the earth. The wall of trees looked almost whole.

And of course, Rand hasn't really addressed any of his internal issues so while he's a little disheveled, nothing has actually changed.

“They’re always there, dreams,” Rand said, so softly Perrin barely heard. “Maybe they tell us things. True things.” He fell silent, brooding.

Rand is of course also snapping under the pressure of Ba'alsy's TAR campaign. The lack of good sleep is already catching up to him here and it's not going to be getting better anytime soon.

Ah well. Next time: News!

#let's read #wheel of time #wot #robert jordan #wheel of time spoilers #wot spoilers #perrin aybara #leya #min farshaw #loial #rand al'thor #uno nomesta #masema dagar #ragan

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envihellbender · 4 months

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VIVISECTION COMMITTED TO A CUTE BOY

Characters: Innocence (Avatar to the Slaughter), Carlin (OCs)

Verse: The Magnus Archives

Content: extreme gore

Innocence put a lot of work and effort into their production. The intro music, for example, was a deceptively simple tune - it was important that it stuck into the minds of everyone who heard it. However, it also had to be impossible to mimic, Innocence had an Aerophone AE-10 that they loved that they perfected the sound on. It was almost like the traditional bagpipes, but not quite. It was more upbeat and thus cuter, that was particularly important. Everything Innocence did was about aesthetics, down to their military uniform and pins in their long blond hair.

They spent hours setting up each streaming set, and of course each instrument used was state of the art or specially built. They whistled as they made sure everything was in place, when they were adjusting their ring light and all they could hear was yelling and screaming was when their smile started to falter. They turned to their co-star and scowled. The young man they’d chosen was extremely pretty, his best feature was his lips which were unfortunately hidden by duct tape for the time being. His eyelashes were thick, and his curls were dishevelled and had a week’s worth of greasy clinging to them. He’d been a model, and his starved body wasn’t doing much to help him now. Innocence wrapped the young man on his knuckles with their favourite iridescent scalpel whilst tutting.

“I’m trying to focus. I really don’t wanna cut your tongue out … but if I have to I will, even if it ruins the show,” they said before sticking their tongue out. The young man screamed again and as a result Innocence shoved the scalpel into his mouth in one swift movement. The edge cut open the roof of his mouth and the sharp point hit his uvula. He let out a whining whimper and Innocence raised their eyebrows as he did. “Are you going to behave?” He nodded. Innocence quickly pulled the scalpel from his mouth and sighed in annoyance. “Ugh. Stop bleeding. We’ve not started yet.” The young man spluttered as the blood from his mouth seemed to recede from its wound, pooling and congealing around his tongue. Innocence finished setting up the lights and camera, cleared their throat and began.

“Hiiiiiiii!” Innocence sang into the lense, their hands making a heart into the camera as they bat their eyelashes, with stars drawn on their cheeks in black eyeliner. They lowered their hands and then pressed their index fingers together. “So many new subscribers to our exclusive little club! Thank you so much to everyone who’s got the word out! Every link shared really helps me to make more content!

“Today we’re doing something a little different, I know you usually get to see me work on a group, but today I’m going to focus all my efforts on this one boy in particular,” Innocence said. They spun round and faced the second camera that was pointed directly at their co-star. His naked thin torso had lines of black marker drawn on him. They were more for appearances than anything else, Innocence knew instinctively where to cut and didn’t need a guide. “So, every day to celebrate spooky month, I’m going to perform a live vivisection on a new performer!”

“It’s okay, you don’t need to do anything. You just need to lie there and look pretty,” Innocence said in response to Carlin’s spluttering. “To begin with we have this young man, sorry his gag is torn up, monsters, he couldn’t stop yapping.” Innocence giggled and slipped out their iridescent scalpel with daisies clipped to the handle from their coat pocket. They rested the blade on the model’s Adam’s apple before ripping the gag from his mouth. “Some of you more eagle eyed viewers might recognise him from his cute AF TikTok videos or London Fashion week! It’s Carlin Rider, owner of the best lips and eyelashes in the business. I bet his organs are even cuter! Which one first, monsters?” Innocence looked up to a screen off camera and grinned.

“Intestines? So early in the game? Don’t be silly!! Those are going to be much later-” Carlin began to yell again causing Innocence to sigh and roll their eyes. They stared at their lips and mentally filled Carlin’s mouth with blood until he spluttered and whimpered. “Sorry monsters, we’ve got a chatterbox today! I think that answers our question though. He can’t talk if he’s missing his larynx!” Innocence spun their scalpel over their fingers and cut a smooth straight line from the bottom of Carlin’s chin to the space between his collar bones. Innocence then carefully slipped their fingers into his wounds and expertly pulled his larynx out, blood spurted from Carlin’s throat almost like a comical fountain. “Told ya! Look how cute that is!” Innocence said triumphantly, posing in front of the camera with it. “That’ll keep him quiet, look at this pretty brown eyes! Looking around the room so desperate for help.” Innocence stroked Carlin’s curls, he gasped silently and shook his head desperately trying to resist Innocence’s touch. They held the larynx up to the camera again this time turning it this way and that so the viewers could get a good look at it. Carlin was starting to grow pale and weak, Innocence exhaled in annoyance.

“Oh my, thought he was stronger than that.” They spun on their heel and returned to their desk, picked up their Aerophone and played the similar tune. The result was the wound on Carlin’s throat sewed itself back up without the larynx and colour and life began to return to his face. Innocence gleefully ran their fingers down his throat. “Sooooo pretty. I did such a good job. You can barely tell it’s gone.” Carlin opened his mouth as he attempted to respond, a croaking, quiet, and desperate gasp being all that left his mouth. Tears began falling down his temples and pooling by his ears.

“Good boy. Precious baby. Isn’t he a cutie everyone,” Innocence said, flicking their hair behind one shoulder, a couple of strands getting caught in their military jacket’s shoulder pads. “Next we’re gonna dooooo… Hmm, aw heck let’s take out a portion of is intestines. As a special treat for everyone sitting at home.” Innocence winked deliberately at the camera. They took out the same iridescent scalpel they’d used to open his throat and licked it clean. It didn’t matter if Carlin got an infection, that always made the future streams way more interesting. They pressed the scalpel into Carlin’s pale torso, and wriggled it into his guts. They had a little bit of a dig around until they found a nice thick bit of intestines and snipped it from the rest of them, giggling as Carlin silently screamed, unable to make a noise, and bled out. The yellow fat from his small belly dripped out making Innocence gasp in delight. They held up the bit of Carlin’s guts to the camera and twirled it around. “How pretty are his organs?! I love them. I’m definitely gonna cut up this cutie again. I might even have him long term. Wouldn’t that be fun, monsters?”

Innocence took a bite down on the intestines and sucked the blood and digested food out of the organ.

“Well, if we’re gonna get this babe done by the end of the day we better get going, huh?” Innocence sang, then flicked a peace sign at the camera with a grin.

#envi writes #gore #guro #extreme gore #oc innocence #the Magnus archives #oc Carlin #Magnus archives oc

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thelivingautomaton · 7 months

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welcome back to "additional galaxy brain thoughts on the wheel of time". today i will be Considering(TM) book 3 and the first ten or so chapters of book 4, mostly repeating and building off of my livetweets. tl;dr: robert jordan is a genius and i am the chucklefuck going insane over The Narrative Of It All

now that we're making good headway into the books, i think it's interesting that rather than grouping thoughts/observations based on concrete material stuff (i.e. events, lore, characters), i feel like i can start grouping observations based on narrative themes and motifs that keep cropping up, so let's start by talking romance

okay so like. i do kind of get why people think the way robert jordan writes (or rather, doesn't write) romantic relationships is weird, and i DO kind of wish that he did a better job of like, threading the line between "i am going to leave explicit conversations and thoughts about romantic feelings unsaid and let the reader see what's going on through the actions of pov characters, knowing that they have to filter a character's thoughts and words through said character's inherently unreliable/biased perspective" and skipping straight to "these characters have now Realized their feelings and are just going to speak them out loud now even if it feels like there's been little to no buildup"

that being said. i think it's a fascinating way to actually depict romantic arcs, because to a certain extent it feels...true? like, sometimes people really do be completely oblivious about their own feelings for the longest time, and then all of a sudden they have some epiphany for no real reason and are like "oh shit i love this person!" or alternatively "oh shit i DON'T love this person!" also rj gave himself a built-in excuse by being able to handwave and go "idk, ta'veren!" which is honestly a little based of him

(i will probably talk more about this downthread but rand just casually warping the pattern as he's making his way to tear and the way that that manifests as like...townsfolk deciding en masse to marry each other, or defeating whitecloaks by making them look foolish without undue violence, or giving a starving town a bountiful harvest? makes me insane to think about from both a worldbuilding/narrative perspective -- literally what if you were a walking hurricane of Narrative pulling threads and lives after you in your wake, literally WHAT IF -- and also a character perspective, because it gives SO MUCH insight into rand as a person that THAT'S how his ta'veren magic manifests. anyways)

i think that of the various romantic entanglements that have really happened so far, this worked best for depicting perrin and faile BY FAR, which feels like maybe a hot take? but my GOD their relationship makes me feel crazy in the best way. i'm already a sucker for the slap-slap-kiss dynamic, but i also adore how faile initially sees perrin as a puzzle she wants to figure out and how she's so good at putting some pieces together (like that an aes sedai, a warder, and an ogier all together must be important, and mysteries like that will lead her either to the horn or just to being part of a big important story), and how she's the only person that really makes perrin lose his cool and speak without thinking (the scene where he and then moiraine accidentally blab everything about the dragon and the horn already being found was fucking hysterical).

AND THEN PERRIN GOING IN TO TEL'ARAN'RHIOD TO RESCUE HER???? and swearing that after this he'll only call her faile like she wants??? freeing her first as his wolf-self (which, also: insane concept, love it, thank you rj) but then finding a door and chains he can't break as a wolf, so he has to manifest himself as a man and a blacksmith and use the hammer? AND THEN WAKING UP AFTER BEING MAULED BY DREAM BIRDS WITH FAILE LEANING OVER HIM AND HE JUST WHISPERS "my falcon"????????? FUCKING. AUGH

so like, it WAS a jarring surprise in a way at the start of book 4 that suddenly perrin and faile were definitively In An Established Relationship, but then i thought about it for 3 seconds and was like, okay actually maybe they didn't need to have an explicit "i have feelings for you" scene. maybe "my falcon" WAS that scene. your honor i love them

by contrast a lot of the other romantic relationships have had a lot less focus or screen time that ISN'T just "uh oh, suddenly i realize i have feelings for this person but can't act on them for xyz reason", i.e. nynaeve/lan, rand/elayne, and rand/min (ESPECIALLY rand/min, although conceptually i'm kind of obsessed with Guy Who Is The Narrative's Biggest Chewtoy falling in love with Girl Who Sees The Narrative Most Unambiguously But Cannot Affect It) which is why i think they fall a little more flat for me, at least currently

that being said, i can largely get behind rand/elayne based on their first meeting in the palace garden (oh to be a farmboy with a concussion and have your wounds delicately bandaged by the daughter-heir with her own richly-woven kerchief!) and the scene where they tell each other that they're "very fond" of the other, which was SO cute and dorky

it's funny in a way because i almost feel like the romantic scenes between two characters in love are more of an afterthought than scenes where characters who are friends talk ABOUT their romantic feelings for others and how to go about dealing with them, because THOSE scenes really shine with how much light they shed on the non-romantic interpersonal connections

specifically thinking here of the one-two combo of moiraine briefly making a comment to the girls about her own romantic prospects (or lack thereof) followed by nynaeve bringing egwene and elayne wine so the three of them can talk about rand and what to do with elayne's feelings, egwene's lack thereof, and how to deal with berelain

(sidenote: you truly have to hand it to berelain for the hustle and the chutzpah to just directly walk into the dragon reborn's chambers, hair done face beat tits out, and ask if he's DTF)

anyway i love those kinds of scenes because they just feel so NORMAL, you know? like, the girls are, politically and magically speaking, three of the most important people on the god damn continent. but they're also teen girls! (except nynaeve who's like, 24, but you know what i'm getting at) they're gonna have normal girl talk! it's gonna be filtered through their extreme circumstances but they're gonna have normal-ass wants and feelings and desires!

also sorry but it will never not be funny to have a compare-and-contrast switch of povs in the middle of a chapter, like egwene leaving rand thinking "aw, i know he was lying when he said he also didn't love me, at least he's not taking it too hard!" and immediately going to rand thinking "i....don't think egwene believed me about me loving her like a sister"

when's mat gonna fall in love huh. like on the one hand i think it'd be neat to represent the full spectrum from "immediate established relationship" (perrin and faile) to "relationship that takes time to figure out" (rand and elayne/min) to "no relationship, just vibes" (mat) but on the other hand it would be SO FUNNY.

actually this kind of dovetails nicely into my next group of thoughts, which is mat cauthon: the rogue of all time

i'm dedicating an entire bullet list to him because book 3 is the first we get with his pov and his real character (without an evil dagger eating his soul) and good fucking GOD

this man really woke up from his magic coma, ate the equivalent of 4 full meals, walked outside, challenged TWO skilled swordsmen to a fight, WITH HIS QUARTERSTAFF, purely for shits and giggles. AND THEN HE WINS. and then has to prop himself up on his quarterstaff so he doesn't immediately fall over. THE SCENE OF ALL TIME

(sidenote: i am continually surprised by how much i like galad and gawyn. i think there's something interesting to be said about how they serve as parallels/foils to rand, but also, i would like to see more of them, and i would like to see more of the goofy-ass sibling dynamics between gawyn, galad, and elayne. thank u)

and like, he literally just DOESN'T STOP being The Most Guile Hero Rogue Ever. getting his hands on the amyrlin seat's "i can do what i want" permit! breaking in to the palace in caemlyn so he can actually literally give elayne's letter to morgase with his own hands like he promised! (sidenote, i have a lot of percolating thoughts about mat's luck and love him testing things to see how it works, like figuring out that it works best when it's random -- my additional takes are that it also only works for things he outright says or promises he'll do, a la "making a wager", and that it works better the more the odds are against him. fucking immaculate concept, thank you for this rj.) blowing a hole in the side of the impenetrable fort with fireworks he's been carrying around for half the book!

but i also think he's such an interesting counterpart to rand and perrin because (like lanfear points out in her dialogue with him) he's the only one of the three ta'veren who DOESN'T have to be tempted to glory, who DOES want to be more than a farmer/shepherd/blacksmith

...i was about to add "who ISN'T running from his role in the narrative" except then i realized: that's actually not true at all, mat is 100% running from his role in the narrative just like rand and perrin, he's just doing it in a different way (i.e. embracing his weird ta'veren magic but running from the deeper implications of why he has that magic and what he should bend it towards beyond just "fuck bitches get money")

...which then dovetails nicely into my next thoughts, Dear God The Narrative Of It All

THE NARRATIVE OF IT ALL!!! the boys each dealing with the inner conflict between refusing their role, embracing it for the wrong/selfish reasons, and fulfilling it because it's their duty and nobody else can do it and it has to be done! MY GODDDDDDDDDD

i think this manifests in the most interesting way with the bubble of evil scene at the start of book 4, specifically how what manifests for the three boys is a personification/symbolic representation of each of their respective conflicts: perrin versus the axe, mat versus the cards (i.e. his luck), and rand versus his reflections

and each of those fights has some specific details that make it really clear imo that what they're fighting is themselves, or a subconscious part of themselves. the axe tries to kill faile as well as perrin, and perrin thinks that if his own axe harms her he might actually die. mat sees the faces of nobility on the cards (the amyrlin seat, queen morgase) because he's the one who's most averse to nobility, or those in power more generally (i.e. aes sedai). rand SPECIFICALLY has to defeat his reflections by absorbing them into himself, and SPECIFICALLY thinks that if he's defeated, the reflections will fight each other until there's just one that has his face and his life and his memories...just like how his life is already being coopted and warped by the image/role that others see him as (i.e. the dragon reborn). robert jordan you are making me SICK (compliment)

also, literally every comment someone makes about how they're all changing, or specifically how rand just wants to be rand al'thor the shepherd, makes me want to scream cry and throw up. IT'S SO MUCH. my current favorite crackpot theory is that when all is said and done and the last battle is won, one of the boys, probably rand, is gonna wind up just walking off into the sunset as an anonymous traveling bard/gleeman.

like i know rand is supposed to shed his blood fighting the dark one and everyone is pretty sure he's gonna die horribly from Channeler Madness if not during the last battle, but come on. for my own sanity if nothing else i have to believe he'll get to the end alive, SOMEHOW. and like, i think it would be really beautiful if after suffering as the dragon and as a tool of the pattern, he's able to just...travel, and be free, and tell stories instead of being part of one. and he even liked playing the flute for his supper! just let me have this, PLEASE

the other big thing that has me going "oh my god the narrative of it all" is the way that dreams and the dream world are becoming bigger parts of the story, vis a vis perrin's wolf dreams and egwene using the stone ring to go into tel'aran'rhiod, as well as the sheer amount of space dedicated just to lanfear fucking with all of their dreams for no apparent reason other than being dramatic and evil. insane concepts, i love it all, i love SYMBOLISM

i had some other thoughts (mostly about the structures of books 2 and 3 being super similar but book 3 allowing the main characters to exert more agency and get pushed around by the plot less) but i think those i covered pretty well in my twitter thread. anyway i just got to the exposition dump about the redstone doorway that can answer three questions and am now eagerly awaiting the time when everyone insisting they can't or shouldn't go inside gets forced to go inside regardless and shit immediately goes fucking crazy, because it's gotta happen, right? <3

#wheel of time #wot book spoilers #oh wait one more thing: i love the aiel. i don't have anything intelligent to say about them i just love them and their multifaceted cultur #robert jordan really out here giving the girlies (me) everything they want in a massive high fantasy series!!!

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champion-of-thedas · 1 year

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WoT Reread New Spring Chapter 5: The Human Heart

·I just love this peek into young Moiraine’s character. She is so shocked at the idea of a noble person shouting. Scandalizing.

·Siuan is so quick to take charge. It’s in sharp contrast to earlier when she had trouble with it. She’s more in her element calming down a riot than convincing someone to go a certain way. I would worry that it only works because she’s shouting at women (and what that would say that she couldn’t convince a man but women listened to her) BUT it is stated that entire camp went quiet with her voice. This also speaks to Siuan’s strengths. She needs to learn how to be subtly persuasive, but her sheer presence is affecting. In a ttrpg (Chronicles of Darkness) I play, there is a separate ability stat for Manipulation and for Charisma (both are under the social tree). I think Siuan at this moment in time is a perfect illustration of the difference between these two and what it means to be high Charisma and low Manipulation. Furthermore, it also contrasts with where Siuan was in the story while this was published. As of the Crossroads of Twilight, Siuan is the opposite in that she’s learned to lessen her presence even among non-Aes Sedai. This is mostly through doing Bryne’s laundry which I have thoughts on. She’s learned to up her Manipulation in the intervening years between New Spring and Crossroads of Twilight, and relies on it then.

·Babes. I hate the word babes, and it is thanks to this series.

·This noble lady has so much Karen energy.

·Moiraine does not think this adventure is that great. She would like to file a complaint with the Pattern.

·Moiraine believes in not making others suffer for her bad day. My history in customer service thanks her greatly.

·One thing I do think that the Amyrlin (and Moiraine) did not consider was that the child could have been born Aiel. There is a lot of assumption going around that the child will be on this side of the Dragonwall. I mean, Rand is. That does not change my opinion though.

·There is a really sweet moment here that makes me think of Rand, Moiraine, and how they are at the beginning of their journey vs later. Look, I will always find parallels between Rand and Moiraine, because I think there are a lot and that they are good foils in what is the same vs what is different about them. Anyway. Moiraine enters a woman’s name down in the books because she sympathizes with her plight, and she gives her money to take her child to a healer. She and her child are going to starve if they don’t receive help and they aren’t going to get it from the people around them. Now, I don’t think older Moiraine would not do the same in this relatively harmless situation, but she does place an emphasis when she gets older on helping who you actually can but focusing on the greater good. I’m thinking of the inn that got burned down in Eye of the World that Nyneave yelled at her for. There, Moiraine says that she will have the White Tower send money, but if she went back to help the inn she would be putting people that are more important at present in danger. She has shades of it here because she initially wasn’t going to put down the names, but Siuan made her take a closer look. It’s definitely a show of there being a small sense of idealism early on and believing you can save every person you meet and then a more pragmatic viewing of saving the world later on.

·Ah yes. Here comes Elaida. I don’t remember the name of the Aes Sedai with her which means she is either a background character or dead. It’s an ‘m’ name, so probably dead. We are also getting hints of the Aes Sedai hierarchy here, so it’s likely she’s more powerful than Elaida. I don’t think there was anyone more powerful than Elaida, Moiraine, and Siuan already in the Tower when the series started, so dead then.

·It’s sweet that Siuan wanted to stay until the last possible moment so that they could get as many names down as they could.

· Moiraine being a supportive girlfriend.

·Is Katarina one of the darkfriend reds in the series or is that a Katarine? I don’t remember.

·Okay so I remember Merian (I’m sure I didn’t spell that right. I listened/am listening to these books, okay?) the Keeper of Novices was a darkfriend. I think. I may be completely wrong about that, but I remember when I first listened to the book SOMEONE that seemed really nice and important was secretly a darkfriend, but this was only revealed super late into the book after they got to the Borderlands.

·I love that Moiraine hears her uncles are dead and just goes, “Sure. Probably deserved it.” Not in so many words, but that was definitely the vibe that she had going. Merian has no clue, and I don’t blame Moiraine for not sharing. I also didn’t remember that she got told this early. I thought that they had at least another day of taking names and that she got told around the same time they decided they wanted her to be Queen of Cairhien.

·Siuan being a supportive girlfriend.

· It is not wrong to not feel bad for the deaths of horrible family members. Do not punish yourself for it.

·This was such a sweet moment between the two of them, comforting each other between nightmares. We of course know who and what the Dragon Reborn is, but I can see how it would scare them and it’s nice to get the perspective of someone that is afraid of Rand, but pragmatic about it, and also does not know him.

I don’t really have any extra thoughts about this chapter. I made sure to pause the audiobook so that I could get everything out as it was coming to me. Maybe part of the reason that I paid better attention was the fact that I’m in less of a brain fog now or the fact that it is roughly in this chapter where I was planning to start the fic. We’ll see.

#wheel of time spoilers #Wheel of Time #wheel of time book spoilers #wot spoilers #wot book spoilers #wheel of time: new spring #new spring #champion rereads wot #champion rereads new spring

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juminsfakecat · 2 years

Text

just think it was very sexy of cheritz to change the saeran’s character model for his AE. he looks at you and everyone in the eye vs. when he was always shyly looking away. nevertheless, with how much emphasis was made on his skinny and hungry he was in mint eye, he looks so round and soft like a marshmallow in his newer model <33 it’s technically only been two weeks in between the end of ray’s route and the AE, but it’s just so nice to see him surrounded by people who like him so much & his skills are incredibly respected vs. his penance to stay around. his underbags are nearly gone, and when he smiles, it’s the softest thing you ever seen (i’m sorry yoosung kim, but he was right, he beat you in the innocent department lololol)<333

#saeran choi #he’s just cheritz’s love letter to us bc he truly is a melting pot of everyone’s love/communication styles fr #he’s so sincere and comforting like yoosung #but he’s also so flirty and obsessed with u like zen 😭#not to mention he’s direct and clingy like jumin #and he and jaehee are similar in the way they need support and ask so timidly please I’m a sucker #but omg when he jokes it’s always flirty like seven 😭😭 my heart i loved when seven flirted so it’s perfect for me #i guess u can say I’m telling him to love himself like v’s ugly ass (I’m sorry I’m very anti-v bc I’m playing the ae 🤍 and he & rika are #getting on my nerves 🤍 because hearing him understand the exact reason why he’s obsessed with rika just pains me 🤍)#BUT YOU KNOW WHAT SAERAN HAS ON ALLL OF THEM #how he’s so just touch-starved & unapologetically touchy with the player like pls #man was about to break me out the hospital for some coochie pls and I’d GIVE IT UP #they probably have been around each other 24/7 at this point just cuddling and holding hands #and honestly saeran is the only one I believe who had sex immediately LMFAO #bc he’s touch-starved yes but also bc he has ray’s sweetness yet saeran’s boldness #the rest of them tbh?? are really shy like even how confident they seem?? like even jumin comes off timid when he wants to be close #saeran… i mean look at how much he loves kissing 😭

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gureishi · 3 years

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I'm the same anon who asked!

Could you talk about Saeran? It doesn't need to be detailed or NSFW, I'm good with anything, I just want to know more about your headcanons!

Hello again lovely anon! ♡

Oops aaaand once again (no surprise, I know): it’s long. I just wanna preface this one with a couple things:

1. There are quite a few Certified Saeran Simps on this site who truly know him much better than I do. Take whatever I say with a grain of salt—I’m no expert!

2. I’m also not an expert on DID! Which isn’t the focus of these HCs, but is obviously relevant. I read lots of books! About brains n stuff! But please never hesitate to tell me if I describe something poorly.

3. I wrote for the AS timeline here but if you want me to talk about SE Saeran or Unknown tell me and you know I will <3

Tw: discussion of childhood abuse, neglect, and subsequent trauma symptoms

Saeran’s body headcanons

A child who grows up the way Saeran did—kept indoors, often physically restrained, and sometimes starved—is not going to develop in a healthy way. There’s a reason why, even as an adult, Saeran is a full 2 cm shorter than his identical twin: he never gets the nutrition and exercise that kids need in order to grow.

We know that his mother uses his sickliness as an excuse to keep him indoors: but was he born sickly, or is he sick and weak because he’s been malnourished and kept from running or playing or interacting with other children? He breathes stale, dry air all day; he’s living on mostly white bread, and not always at regular intervals (plus whatever sweets his brother can steal for him from the outside world). He is not well.

Child Saeran never learns any sports or games. He doesn’t learn how to play with other children, or tie his shoes, or make himself a snack. Adult Saeran doesn’t know how to skip—you’ll have to teach him.

If the twins didn’t have each other, neither one of them would have survived.

And as we know, the neglect that Saeran endures worsens tenfold after Saeyoung leaves. Any glimpses he was getting of the outside world—sneaking out when their mother was unconscious, getting whatever snacks and books Saeyoung could gather for him at church—are cut off.

I’m not gonna tell you when the alters appear, because I am by no means an expert on DID. From studies I’ve read, I can say that typically alters become manifest after a “traumatic turning point” (which is not necessarily the “worst” trauma endured, but simply a particularly salient traumatic experience). It’s definitely possible that the alters emerge in late childhood, while he is still in the house with his mother.

When Saeran is taken from his mother’s home by Rika and V, he is (needless to say) not in good shape. He is painfully skinny, extremely malnourished, and very weak. He still has his red hair and golden eyes, but already he is looking less and less like his brother: his cheeks are hollow and his eyes are dull.

There is a brief period of time, before his “cleansing” (Oh god. We’ll get there), where he is reasonably well cared for. For the first time in his life, he is eating meals—and he is getting to bathe regularly, and he is getting his hair cut and combed. He still believes, at this time, that he’ll be reunited with his brother. And he is going outside! He is learning how the grass feels between his toes and how the sky looks through clear eyes.

As we know: this doesn’t last.

The elixir is a truly horrifying combination of hallucinogenic substances. No human could consume this cocktail of drugs repeatedly and feel well: and Saeran is already physically weak, and severely underweight. The fact that he survives as long as he does under these conditions is a miracle.

We know that he is being tortured at this time, too: physically as well as emotionally. Saeran has scars, like his brother; while Saeyoung has lots and lots of tiny scars all over his body, Saeran has larger, more distinct scars: perhaps on his wrists, and his throat, and his ankles.

It is around this time that his eyes and hair change. The means by which this happens is incredibly vague in-game, and everyone’s individual HCs are valid. My personal belief is this: he dyes his own hair—first, in a frenzied, desperate attempt to stop seeing his brother looking back at him from the mirror. He keeps dying it because Rika approves: and he never does a good job, and it’s rough and fried, and that “pink” at the bottom? Just the red showing through his patchy dye job.

As for his eyes: I personally believe they change as a result of the elixir. If they were contacts, I don’t think that GE Saeran would necessarily still wear them—and in every timeline, he has those startling blue-green eyes.

The alters take care of the body in different ways.

Ray does not feed himself. He lives on caffeine pills and sweets (and, of course, the concoction of drugs that he’s being fed in increasingly large amounts). The body becomes even skinner when Ray is fronting. And he bites his nails and fingers—brutally, so they are chapped and cut and scarred. But Ray goes outside, and he works in the garden under the sun: his body is getting some form of exercise: and this is good for his lungs, and invigorates his weak, tired muscles.

Ray also takes care of his appearance—something Saeran never did before. He brushes and styles his hair; he dresses himself carefully in the clothes Rika has picked for him; he covers himself in beautiful scents so that he is more appealing to you.

When Suit is fronting, he wants to strip his body of anything that reminds him of Ray. So he styles his hair differently (but still: he is styling it), and he tries desperately to wash the scent of Ray off his skin. He doesn’t feed himself, either—but, if any of the alters are trying to become physically strong, it is Suit (of course). I’m certain that the Believers have a workout regime they’re supposed to be following; maybe Suit even does it (on his own, of course, in secret). He knows he needs to be able to protect himself—and he needs to feel powerful.

When you meet Ray, you don’t notice right away just how poorly he is doing. Rika has intentionally dressed him in a way that hides just how bony he is—and he wears those little gloves, of course, so you don’t see his ravaged fingers. But it doesn’t take long to catch on: he is so skinny you could almost blow him away, and there are dark shadows under his eyes, and he doesn’t sound like he’s taken a deep breath in years.

By the time you meet Suit, you already know the state their body is in: malnourished and weak. Ray cooked for you, but you wish you could cook for all of them; and even when Suit is starving you (in other words: reenacting the very abuse that was dealt to him in childhood), you wish you could wrap him in a big blanket and feed him a bowl of soup.

The Saeran that escapes Magenta with you—GE Saeran: the fusion of Ray and Suit (or a new alter, depending on what you believe)—has never made a single choice for himself in his whole life, until this moment. He never got to pick his own clothes, or what he would eat (if he ate at all), or how he would speak, or what he would do. Running away with you is the first real choice he has ever made—and no wonder this is pivotal and transformative for him.

The AE doesn’t portray the timeline of healing in a realistic way. After two weeks, we see GE Saeran so much healthier, both physically and mentally. And yes: two weeks of eating real food and sleeping in a bed make a difference: we see him with fuller cheeks and brighter eyes.

But what the game doesn’t address is the withdrawal he likely endures when he stops taking the elixir, which is full of substances that are both dangerous and addictive. It doesn’t address the time it takes to build up muscle mass, and get accustomed to healthy sleeping and eating habits, and to begin to heal from years and years of repeated trauma.

GE Saeran doesn’t heal right away, because healing doesn’t work that way. It’s not linear, or straightforward, or simple, or beautiful. It’s slow, and sometimes it’s painful.

But he does heal.

A Saeran who is in love with you is soft, and patient, and willing to put in the months and years (a lifetime!) of hard work to heal his body and his heart. You’ll get to watch as the dark circles under his eyes disappear, and his cheeks become less hollow, and his body grows stronger as he cooks (with you, and for you) and eats real meals and learns to run in the grass the way he never did before. He’ll make a garden, and you’ll get to see how he looks with sun on his face, his eyes clear as the sky as he gazes up at you—smiling.

You can show him how to moisturize his dry lips and cracked hands; you can help him pick out clothes he likes to wear; and you will learn how to support him when his memories haunt him.

And you can hold him: this beautiful, small, soft man, with his thin shoulders and scarred fingers. He’ll close his eyes and you’ll taste the sun on his skin as you kiss his eyelashes. He smells of earth and sky; he loves you with all the power of the universe.

#mystic messenger #saeran choi #ray #suit saeran #headcanons #asks #anon #body headcanons

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worldsover · 3 years

Text

Judgement to the Desiccated ft. Karina

length ✦ 5573

genres ✧ sm type future; asphyxiation; blackmail; virtual_servant!Karina;

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Air did a poor job of not being polluted so Lee Soo Man flooded the world instead. The man himself certainly must be long gone and could not have been in charge of that decision but the legacy of his company far exceeds the legacy of any other human collective in history. Once on this planet, gas was the fluid of choice for respiration and breathing was an unconscious reflex. Now there’s Aether by SM. How very on-brand of them to have the liquid air you breathe follow perfume naming conventions.

Open your eyes and exit the sleeping chamber. Aether has you work for each inhalation, it desaturates the color of the bedroom—maybe there’s a subtle but uncomfortable tinge of yellow—and it makes your nose itch. Your muscles wield much less force than they used to because of the lack of resistance the fluid provides. Moreover, it smells like hairspray as though the ozone layer is taking sardonic revenge.

Screens impersonating windows track your eyes to ensure realistic parallax, playing the scene of divine blue heavens that could not exist. An azure sky is a reward for those planets that have an atmosphere and a sun for light to scatter. Your walls are either chrome or drywall white and your whole bedroom is plainly decorated just like the day you moved in.

“Etymology of bedroom,” you think out loud, though it falls on no ears.

“Bedroom is a compound noun consisting of bed and room. Bed goes back to Old English bedd ‘sleeping place, plot of ground prepared for plants,’ which goes back to the Germanic-”

Plants and sleep are both strong words to use nowadays. The former doesn’t exist in nature and it seems you’re the only one who bothers with the latter. Faint buzzing distracts you from the AI’s response and signals you to the nano drones that swim throughout the liquid to process carbon dioxide from your lungs. This whole ordeal could’ve been much worse if you didn’t have brain interfaces doing the hard part of controlling your diaphragm. The most you need is a purposeful thought. Still, it gets tiring having to think the same thought every three seconds. In. Out.

Was the metaphorical Soo Man teaching a lesson in perseverance? You love K-pop and imagine it’s how trainees used to practice dancing, singing, being charismatic. Being an idol had to be as natural as breathing air. Inhale and exhale. Right now with any antiquated programming language you clung on to, you could write a single for loop that did the same job. For every three seconds: breathe in, breathe out.

“What’s for breakfast today?” Not loud enough. “What’s for breakfast?” you think it louder.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready for service.” It’s quite a kindness for SM to blur the bland dystopia you live in by augmenting reality through your neural device. A bosomy woman in a gold-lined but otherwise modest maid outfit appears from the corner of your eye and she bows. Ae-Karina is bewitching and almost becoming of her basis as its graphics have gradually upgraded over the rotations but you wouldn’t misconstrue the avatar as human.

“I said, what’s for breakfast!” It feels impolite to scream in your head, there’s other residents there, but finally the fridge lights up.

“Of course master. May I remind you eating is unnecessary?”

In. Out. Every day, she does remind you, yes. How kind of the company to put all your nutritional requirements in the new air. Aether goes in then Aether goes out. You wish the thoughts of breathing could fade into the background but they’re just like your cravings for food. Always hungry but never starving, whole though not once satisfied. Your eyes pause at her gorgeous face and she tells you there’s bacon. Take it from your fridge. Bacon goes in. Well, the drones take care of the out.

Your assigned living space is the entire 207th floor of a tower. Two hundred and seven floors below the surface. The neighbor a few floors upstairs says that he thinks living deeper is a sign of status. What a luxury. That guy should check the status of his facial muscles, maybe improve his code that lets him tell lies while he’s at it. A couple hundred flights of stairs to swim up is a useless skeuomorphism of skyscrapers in the days of the sun. In fact they were more than useless, you would've preferred a single vertical hallway as it would have let you propel upwards unimpeded. Each floor is the exact same, a glass door that affords no privacy for its residence, a false tree on each side. At the upper levels, malls, convenience stores and other gaudy retail, but it’s the gyms that mock you that you mock in return. They’re always empty.

Finally reaching the top is no true break even if it is a change in scenery. Inhale. Aether tastes a little different up here. Exhale. Can’t say you like it.

Countless satellites form a parody of the star from which the planet flew away, the false image refracted by the upper boundary of Aether. They can’t take away your memories of this star. Looking up at the sky once blinded you with ultraviolet radiation, burning your cornea. It was beautiful. Now everyone’s decided that if they’re playing the part of corporate dystopia, they might as well fit the aesthetic. In a way, it’s self-fulfilling. They wouldn’t have chosen a neon pink sun to compliment the blue and metallic gloom of the cityscape if it weren’t so ingrained in popular media already.

Still, you would’ve expected Google or Walmart to become the megacorp responsible for the state of the world, not a Korean entertainment company. Must’ve been quite the red paperclip scenario. Instead of material design or utilitarian architecture, tacky artistic structures line the streets. The same advertisements for albums that they’ve been selling for the past however long. It's all so obvious, the city could've been designed from scratch to accommodate new forms of travel and goddamn liquid air but instead they went with futuristic Tokyo.

Dubstep permeates your inner ear implants. A notification informs your thoughts that it’s “Hip-hop EDM dance pop with a strong jungle house groove and urban influences.” It’s dubstep. Liquid carries barely any sound so SM affords the option for implants if you're nostalgic for one of the senses. Even though it’s a slower form of communication than direct neural transfer, the noise comforts you. Of course the company would choose dubstep as their background music, but maybe they make money off refunds somehow. It switches to Ice Cream Cake. Much better.

You walk the not so busy roads towards a short brick warehouse in the distance and heavy rain soaks your clothes. No such thing as weather without the sun and water but it’s all simulated anyway.

A warm Seulgi adlib and you know it’s Psycho that starts playing. No, none of your senses are real. The most you could trust is your vision but even that’s being lied to. You could be living in a vat and fed all these thoughts, but then why make it so mediocre? Not paradise, nor torture but a lukewarm in-between. Guess that's what happens when SM Entertainment manages the post-apocalypse. Good on them for trying. The alternative would be a frozen hellscape without solar radiation. Can’t deny their work with geothermal and nuclear energy to keep the Aether warm so that you didn’t have to live underground for the rest of human history. It’s quite great PR to save humanity.

“Hey now, we’ll be okay,” repeats a few more times than you remember.

The Idea Factory Alpha White Delta Green says the neon tubes lighting the front of the brick and mortar building. Your ID card bears a name but it’s not yours, not until they approve your name change. Those usually get processed faster with how often people liked changing their names.

Sit at a desk with a sterile white keyboard and slick new monitor. Type and empty words appear on the screen: “Think for the many, not for the one. We need to think ahead.” A thumbs up. The company appreciates the input. That’s probably enough work for one day. Some SNSD live stages help the time pass, SM certainly appreciated the streaming numbers and it would net you some social points.

It’s hard to say what comes to mind when they ask you to envision a world without the sun and air, especially since it’s what you’ve known for... Two hundred years? There’s no frame of reference, that much you can tell from when you counted seconds to see how often the satellites completed their orbit. SM really took time to have them propel at random speeds, they love withholding sensitive information like that from citizens. To be fair, time is sensitive. Guess the meaning of that phrase changes like all parts of language.

Look around. Dozens of employees at identical workspaces all try to answer the same questions. Naturally, there’s no need for manual labor anymore but there will never be a replacement for human ingenuity. Nice slogan but you know you’re only here for data. Can’t see a need for customer retention though—what’s the alternative, skip Earth? See you on another planet?

“Hey bro, you come up with anything new?” Dave says. Two desks away, you see the enthusiastic, surprisingly spry man play around with a Newton’s cradle. The balls at each end bounce back and forth, not slowing down their rhythm any time soon.

“I think I got something,” you say, “Earth is not the answer. It can’t be, long term.”

“Ooh, I like that. Actually, I really like that.”

“What are you gonna do, copy me?”

“Of course not. You know how much SM hates plagiarism.” Click. Clack.

“Ha. As if there’s a single original thought left in the world.” Click. Clack. The imaginary sounds of metal spheres bouncing play in your mind. They got the volume wrong, no way it’d sound that loud from that distance. “You’d think with all their resources, they’d have figured out space travel by now.”

“I don’t think they want to leave, bro. Wouldn’t be great for profits.”

Your mouth opens to laugh and causes laugh8942.mp3 to play in Dave’s head. “I love it. SM probably hates that sass too,” you say.

“Oh no, they’re gonna arrest me for thoughtcrimes. Nah, they love creativity, just when it suits them. Also, if they actually did bust you for wrongthink like rumors say, I wouldn’t have this on me.” Dave twirls a finger and points at you and you thank his absurd flair for the histrionic that keeps you amused with such drab work.

“NewDrug.mp6. Would you like to play it?” the dry system voice notifies you.

“Woah woah there tiger, hold on.” Dave must’ve noticed your intrigued eyes and holds his hands up. “You might wanna experience that at home. But if you’re interested in more, ask for chicken parm at the vegan place. You know the one.”

Dave leaves his desk. He doesn’t return. You finish your work. Inspire. Expire. You’d rather not.

In contrast to your commute to work, the roads fill with others on your way home. You have to know. Take solace in the comfort of a bench where a huge McDonald’s arch bathes the surroundings and its people with a yellow glow. Really shouldn’t watch it now, especially if Dave says it’s a home type of watch but you have to know. A family of five watches you pass out. They, along with every other passerby, ignore your still body draped over the chrome outdoor seating as you look like yet another junkie. The title is correct after a fashion, the simulation is some sort of new drug. The details of the exploits that happen in the immersive replay wash over you but you don’t need them to know that it’s the sort of lewd that SM would not allow—at least not publicly and not without the right exorbitant payment.

Suit pants and underwear go straight to the laundry. That must’ve been an embarrassing sight but no one bothered to stop you, so it doesn’t matter. Look up where this vegan place was that Dave so presumptuously assumed you knew about and you find that it’s about four Avengers’ stores down from work. He must’ve eaten there before.

“Yo Dave, just wanna make sure, what’s the name of the vegan place called?”

“What are you talking about, man? You telling me there’s some secret underground farms that SM wouldn’t know about?”

You can’t tell when you got to work, a lack of standardized timing would help as well the haze of living in a monotonous dark. “Nah, I mean, for the-”

“I have no idea,” Dave emphasizes each word, “what you’re talking about.”

“I see.”

Work flies by, unusually.

“Hey, can I get a chicken-”

“Uh, this is Maron’s Veggies Only, it clearly says on the sign.”

Clear your throat. “Parm.”

The shifty part-time worker looks around and rubs his fingers gesturing for money. “No digital.”

Over the counter, you pass him a gold coin stamped with a holographic 1 and he hands you a USB stick and a laptop in return. How old-fashioned.

“It’ll sync with whoever you have set as your avatar experience aspect,” the worker says.

“Thanks.”

Ever vigilant as the patrol is, the alleys are the last place you want to go to hide with the obvious criminal element within them all but you head to one anyway. Dump the anachronistic technology in your storage pocket dimensions. Looking at its contents, you’d have to clean that mess up later, but the more you look like an average slob the better. The biggest problem with the inventories is all the people squatting in them. Inspectors wouldn’t care about the archaic ruins you left in yours.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready to service.”

“I’d like to go on a date. A special date.” You highlight the key word special and sit on your living room couch. No one’s going to look in your glass door and regardless, you wouldn’t be the pervert for glimpsing into someone’s home.

“Ah yes, master. Ae-Karina is ready to fully service,” she says with a provocative tint in her tone, her sclera disperses to black to match. A pole drops from the ceiling while parts of her maid outfit dissolve which reveals more of the silky skin of her thighs, her lissom arms and most importantly her overflowing breasts. Ae-Karina wraps her legs around the pole and spins around, teasing fingers trace curves on her body to harden you. Her dance is precise but sultry regardless. She pulls up her short skirt to flaunt more of her ass beneath white panties and then pulls down to flourish her cleavage, not trapped by a bra. “Are you enjoying your maid’s show?”

“Very much so, yes,” you say.

Half of a smile forms before a glitch occurs and she teleports next to you, fully nude. It doesn’t pull you out of the illusion however. You just stare and drink in the splendor of her created body.

“You’re not going to touch?” Ae-Karina says.

A feel of her tits and you find it softer than pillows you used to rest on. Soft isn’t much of a character that exists anymore when the whole world is engulfed in liquid. No one has beds, especially with the rarity of sleep. Therefore, her mounds are a consummate dedication to the texture as you squeeze and pinch at her cute nipples.

Her maid outfit rematerializes as she straddles you. It provides more friction to your pants as she begins her lap dance. The weight of her body dragging across your legs and clothed erection induces your carnal impulses further. If only you could fuck the virtual idol. You have to make do with the imprint of her pussy lips on your bulge sliding up and down. Breath in. Breath out.

Ae-Karina pulls down your boxers and spits on your erection. It's not real but her hands so slick on your cock and you let reality slip. Real is for the past, you have desires gratified in the present. There is no real person nibbling at your neck but your nerves activate in sexual desire without discernment for truth. No, she doesn't love you, but when the voracious mass of ones and zeroes says it loves its master, you say it back.

"I love you."

ILOVEYOU infected ten million computers in 2000. An explosion. Calibration engaging. It’s 1:21 PM, Sunday, July 18, 2286 and hypothetically the sun would be out in its full rage. At this latitude and longitude, you’re at what was once the epicenter of all—Seoul, where a fountain caused a chain reaction allowing the hopeful remnant of a world to exist. It lasted a surprisingly long time without the sun and without Aether but the dying planet would succumb inevitably to the ever-increasing contamination so SM of all corporations took charge. A different kind of chain reaction occurred when they acquired a restaurant chain that discovered the recipe for liquid air. The law is on its way and prepared to punish you to its full extent.

You reel while your ears ring. An even sexier version of the woman you already fantasized about appears from your peripheral vision in the crater of your floor. A skimpy cop outfit, striated with reflective material that seems to wane black at different angles, outlines Karina’s curves. She has a tool belt with absurd gadgets, such as a knife baton hybrid, a taser combined with a spray bottle and a Tamagotchi. None of this is necessary. They could just immediately arrest you, impose limitations on your devices. Sure, SM cloned people to deal with underpopulation, but why Karina would be the enforcer is a whole nother issue. Maybe the entertainment company loves their irony?

“Halt. You’re under arrest. Any resistance will be penalized according to the combined Terms of Service of all SM and SM associated products.”

Fucked anyway, you figure you might as well go for it. Escape into your inventory and only seconds later you’re forced out. You manage to get what you need regardless.

“Violation of access rights will be charged to your account.”

It’s so obvious but there’s a reason you kept so much gold in physical storage. As you swim away, the sides of your apartment start to bubble. Bubbles? Already, your limbs feel unsteady. Something’s wrong in the Aether.

“This is standard procedure for escaping suspects that are indoors. Again, this is all agreed to under the Terms of Service.”

“When the fuck did I ever click accept to that shit?”

“When you were born in this world and decided you want to stay in it,” Karina says out loud. You hear her say it. Your physical ears process the vibrations in the air that come from her mouth. Gravity thwarts your desperate escape as your limp body floats on the limit between liquid and air. The atrophy of your muscles becomes apparent within the gaseous atmosphere. She watches you sink down as the room drains of all the false air though her eyebrows crease when she inspects you closer. Your breaths are involuntary. Despite your muscles shorting out, the force of gravity and the pressure of the gas bearing down on you, you’re breathing and you don’t mean to. Her eyes wander farther down. On your pants, a concrete rod stamps the fabric.

“Oh, you like what you see?”

“Shut up, criminal. Anything you say can and will be used against you.”

“Your pussy,” you say and she scoffs.

“Original.” Karina bites her lip as your erection continues to grow behind its prison. You use all effort to put your hands up.

“Please, miss Karina. I’ve been bad.”

“I could punish you even more for sexual assault.”

“Then do it.”

Heat radiates the room in a way you haven’t felt in a while and droplets of sweat form on each of your bodies, especially on the thighs that her revealing outfit parades. Her facial features contort in deliberation and the wait kills you. You bat your eyes at her before Karina takes off her tight shorts and drops herself into your anticipatory face. This makes no sense but none of this life made any sense so you decide to go with the tides.

Centuries of training your respiration has led to this moment, but when you finally have real air to breathe, you spit at the opportunity and choose to suffocate. Then you spit at her pussy and lap it up. Karina’s nectar transfixes your olfactory glands, for once a smell that isn’t the sterile Aether. Your eyes are mesmerized in parallel because of the perfect design of her pussy, a single crease that leads into her hole that your tongue emphatically explores. Karina spreads her thighs wide to reveal a small nub that craves attention. So give it. Suck and swirl and flick your tongue, and the woman provides you the tight clench of her legs as a gift. And the sounds, rediscovered glorious noise. Loud, almost too loud, and clear is how they assault your ears, even surrounded by the flesh of her thighs. Muffled by the weight of her legs, you hear Karina moan in approval but she’s still clearly in charge with how she chokes you with her legs. This is not about your pleasure but hers, and any satisfaction that you derive is not only incidental but probably punishable by SM copyright law.

Karina squirms her hips subtly on your mouth. Her eyes are sharp and she’s just about to stop your hands from moving but she notices them clasp together.

“I’ll do anything to make you cum, please.” you say sloppily as her pussy juices fill your cheeks and drip down your chin.

“God. I can’t.” She takes deep, contemplative breaths. ”That’s more time added on for inappropriate behavior.” Her groaning and brief squeals make her words sound incogent.

You give her a concluding lick and a kiss on her slit. “So what have you been doing right now then?”

Point to a corner of the room and a subtle red light indicates a recording camera. At once, she pulls out a hose from a pocket that could not fit it and the vacuum submerges the room with noise. Her expression shifts quickly to serious.

“We don’t play games here in SMTOWN unless it’s SuperStar so don’t fuck with me.”

“Look who's trying to be a comedian. How about you fuck with me any further and the video gets released.”

“That’s funny, you think you have any sort of power-”

“Yoo Jimin, I suggest you don’t push me more.”

“Where do you know that name from? Right now.” She weighs herself down on your neck.

“You think I don’t have contingencies for if I die too? Karina, we can make this a win-win scenario. We both get to cum, we both get to walk away unscathed.”

“Fuck you.”

Your weak arms wander between her thighs. At any moment, a feeble punch towards your face or another ten seconds of asphyxiation and she could call your bluff. Even if you did have the ability to expose her perversions in any way, there would be no permanent recourse, not as long SM was in charge. So it surprises you when Karina takes off her shorts.

“Goddammit. Your cock just looks too good. And your mouth, how are you so good with it?” Put up five fingers when she motions to remove her top as well, and instead she opts to take off your clothes, seizing your pants and throwing them to join the rubble in the room.

A finger slips in, then two and a third dares. Her flawlessly architected pussy lips clings to your digits and Karina shudders in reply. You explore her wetness and find it’s smooth to the point of having no faults, but her juice inside is gloppy and causes your fingers to stick more than the liquids she spills from her slit.

“Who said you’re allowed to have more?”

You lap up the nectar on your fingers. “Then why’d they make you taste so good?”

Your thumb teases her sweet tight asshole and puts just the slightest amount of pressure on it while you finger her with more intensity. The mass of her butt burdens your torso the closer she gets to orgasm. Her eyelids squeeze close and you see her body ripple in anxious pleasure. Karina shows off her pearly whites, teetering on the cliff of hysteria.

“Yes, yes! I’m so close,” she screams.

"Not yet."

“Fuck." Karina sobs, "God. Damn, fuck I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Just fuck me.”

“My pleasure,” you say. There’s no need for you to grab her since she brings herself down to your groin, which you’re thankful for as your arms are as good as jelly now. Fortunately, your cock throbs as hard as ever while Karina’s slit rests on it.

“Say you’ll delete it all, all the evidence, promise me.”

“You’re gonna fuck me first or what?” Your breath hitches while she makes a strangled noise as her velvety walls swallow your cock whole to leave no room for comfort. Her tightness is stifling and you have to start counting just to breathe again.

“One two-”

“Be quiet.”

But there is no quiet when pleas for your cooperation intersperse her excessive profanities when she seats herself into your cock and ricochets up and down. Sweat emanates from her creamy skin while her legs widen to find a better angle for her supporting knees in her cowgirl position. Grapefruit and other citrus mingle with the scent of the sweat, fruits you haven’t seen except on billboards in music videos. As much as your mind crackles and your blood roars for every atmosphere of pressure Karina’s walls provide on each thrust in and out, you can’t help but reminisce on sweeter, more innocent times.

The white fluorescent lights in your apartment sputter. For all the advancements in technology, some among many things never change. Light refracts differently in air, less bright, but you can see the pure enjoyment on Karina’s face no matter the luminescence. Karina slows her ride to pull her hips down harder instead and she jolts when your cock finds the most tender spots inside her pussy and it interrupts her babbling.

Karina almost hyperventilates when she gets up to spit on your cock. She pulls out some kind of meter from her tool belt and sighs when there’s no beeping and you recognize it having to do with carbon dioxide. She gets back to dribbling saliva and the filament trailing down to your shaft mesmerizes you. This spit is real, not simulated, and it wettens your erection in a mix with her pussy juices to paralyze you further in your already listless state. Her bare thighs jiggle and you can’t exert much force with your hands but her buttcheeks are firm with just a bit of give.

“Thank you for this cock, thank you for being bad,” Karina says as you watch her ass sink deeper while her pussy holds your dick taut. She’s frenetic when bounces up and down to play an unadulterated orchestra of slick noises between your groins.

“You’re welcome,” you accomplish getting out the words between planned breaths. Your hands cup her buttcheeks but you fear they may break with how she strikes her ass into you.

Karina turns around once more to give you the spectacle of her facial expressions as she fucks herself into you. Knead her calves laying on your torso and they take no energy to spread them though she brings them back together, compressing your hard shaft within her pussy. A new game you play with her, a separate rhythm of loosening and tightening. Her feet press on your chest to help her bounce, but the way they bear down on your lungs against the timing of your breathing causes you to fumble. Your cock bends straight forward as she plunges herself into you and it sends prickles to your entire skin, making the new angle difficult but worth it. Karina takes your hand and starts sucking on your fingers.

“You want my promise that bad?” you say.

“Yes, as bad as I want your cum. I swear, I need it.”

She draws her knees up to her torso and hugs her legs to keep thighs as tight together as possible. Karina couldn’t keep her word, she was trying to kill your cock with constriction.

“Fuck, your pussy is so fucking tight. God, Karina, fuck. You’re so good.” Even if good isn’t the word you want to use to describe her.

“Do it, please, please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, baby. Karina can be a good girl, a good maid, a good cop, whatever you want. Just don’t get me in trouble, please.”

Karina’s mouth stops saying words though her lips writhe, drunk in increasing lust. Her cheeks flush, before the rest of her skin joins in redness while she grapples your chest and whatever spare limb she can find. You still struggle wresting control of your body but nature seems to take over when you drive yourself into her and match her needy cadence. The air in the room is replaced by a new air but it isn’t Aether. Passion, sweat, heat and all fluids that you both exude join squelching sounds, slaps and moans in harmonic bliss when her body tenses and she screams. As her body tightens, her pussy especially holds your cock for dear life and endeavours to wring out all your semen as her wetness throbs and spills. Karina starts counting to three repeatedly and you laugh though your amusement quickly subsides when you feel her juices become more viscous and she continues her ride, even in the dying pulses of her climax.

“Was I good?” Karina asks.

Just a moment goes by before you mentally send her a screenshot of all the recordings being deleted. Karina hasn’t stopped fucking you yet so at least it wasn’t a ploy.

“Thank you, thank you, I love you.” The flexion of her pliant legs brings them all the way back to rest on top of your legs. Karina lays prone above you and finally give you a kiss. The citrusy flavor may be closer to lime than grapefruit but it’s been so long that you can’t remember which scent is which. Lips crash and her tongue lashes out at yours trying to establish dominance. Keep still to let her investigate your mouth while her pussy does the same to your shaft.

You savor the way Karina’s top emphasizes the bouncing of her tits synchronous with the rebounding of her waist on your cock, but your mouth waters when she frees them. Take the shortest moment to relish in the sight before Karina smothers you with her plump globes. You wriggle your face to try to breathe. Inhale, up and exhale, down, but all you inhale is the scent of her orbs’ sweat. Her hips undulate with a pace at least double yours breathing and the echoes of slapping flesh resonate throughout the air-filled chamber. The loudness is unlike any you’ve experienced in a long time. It’s almost a flashbang every time her ass slams into your lap, especially as you start to see white when orgasm threatens to overload you with preludial pulses.

The last words you hear infected ten million computers in 2000. Fade to black. Cut. You’re slammed out of existence back into existence as a sun rebirths both within you, heating your core to a dangerous high, and from your eyes, dazzling you in an unforgiving white light. In the throes of unconsciousness relapsing to consciousness back to tenebrosity, your streaks of semen suspend in the Aether like a dead tree resting from the wind. What flashes your mind in its orgasmic state are two things only you would remember, plants and weather. Your hyperventilation is unconscious but not unwelcome, as it’s the first time in a while your breaths were reflexive even in the liquid air. However, basking in your newfound power, you start to choke. Right. You breathe in and out again. In and out. In. Out. In. Out. Back in.

“Replaying KarinaArrestsYou.mp6.” A hint of vexatious glee in the system’s otherwise dry voice. You don’t stop for it.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

It’s pretty silly but the idea danced around in my head ever since I saw the absolute Black Mirror concept that SM had for aespa and I concur that Karina is insanely hot.

As I’m writing this, this Kurzgesagt video on the idea of a rogue Earth comes out and now I have to rewrite stuff to make it at least a little consistent. I’m obviously already going nuts with all these ridiculous sci-fi concepts but this video almost feels too targeted to me writing this for me to ignore it.

#kpop smut #aespa smut #male reader #reader insert #title tracks

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marshmallowprotection · 1 year

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ge saeran still feeling suit's guilt hurts, and it's definitely really hidden in the AE but it's still there and it def should have been touched on more T_T like by the AE saeran has made a lot of progress from where he was and most of the time it seems like he's worked past a lot of his negative feelings. but there's one call on day 2 where you end up talking about your time at magenta and if you say you remember how you used to starve... yeah he does first say he'll be your chef to make it up to you but then immediately follows with saying if/when you want to take your revenge he'll let you. like saeran baby honey sweetie darling noooo T_T im not gonna hurt you baby i love you

There was a lot of information they had to pack into the After End; It makes sense that some of it were put to the wayside so they could be able to touch on most of everything. GE Saeran has made peace with some of what happened to him, but it makes sense when you think of all the possible details, you know? How can he forgive himself when it occurs to him that he might not be able to do the same to those who did the same to him? That's a part of his process of finding peace. He doesn't want to be angry anymore. He wants to be better.

So, to heal himself, he knows what he needs is to understand them in some way so he can better understand himself. Even though you did forgive him, it takes time to forgive himself. That's a narrative part of Saeran that I love because he really needs to be emotionally strong to find that answer for himself. I wish I had that heart, too, but I'm more like his brother... I hold onto my grief over what was done to me in the past because it's not hurting me or anyone else. I don't need what he did to find peace. But, that's what forgiveness is.

You define it for yourself and nobody else can change what you need. There are many kinds of it. Saeran's choice was to forgive the ones who hurt him so he could forgive himself. It was never to say he was okay with what happened or that he wanted those people back into his life. It was about healing and finding peace to be the best man he can be for himself... you... and everyone else.

#ask #anon #mod kait #ge saeran #saeran choi #choi saeran

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writersmorgue · 2 years

Text

Febuwhump Day 25 - muffled screams

pretty short but i was determined to post this before I was late so here we are at 11:15 on the 25th lol

TWs in tags || @febuwhump || read on ao3

The first thing that Katsuki notices when he wakes is that his socks are gone. Followed by his boyfriend, their blanket, pillows, and the damn bed that they’d been sleeping on.

Well. Katsuki’s definitely had better mornings.

“Hey love,” well at least Shouto’s disembodied voice is still there.

He groans, red eyes cracking open, first landing on the ceiling above him. He groans, tilting his head up, which is when he notices that he has some sort of gag in his mouth. Just fabric from what he can tell, but he hopes to shit it’s not the fucking socks he’s missing.

“O-oh?” He grunts, eyes squinting at his boyfriend, he’s in a similar situation, although conveniently not gagged. Whatever, not like he says much anyway. “Ae-ar-ee-eer?”

Shouto shrugs, “I dunno, I woke up like ten minutes ago. Could be a multitude of reasons, of course you’re the higher-ranked here, number two, you tell me what you think.” He smirks, eyes glinting in spite of their current situations.

Katsuki does not need this attitude right now, considering they’re locked in a cell and strapped to chairs, and he rolls his eyes dramatically to convey as much. They’re both still wearing pajamas for fuck’s sake.

The lights flick off.

“Well, that was unexpected” Shouto mumbles, something makes a whooshing noise next to Katsuki’s head, which definitely doesn’t scare the shit out of him.

There’s a squelching noise, something warm splatters on his face and arms.

The lights flick back on.

Katsuki blinks a few times to get used to the sudden illumination. But it doesn’t take long to notice the blood splattered across the left wall.

His head darts to his boyfriend because that’s definitely not his-

Katsuki makes a cut-off choking noise, heaving behind his gag.

Shouto’s head is-

It’s hanging by… well barely fuckin’ anything. Someone, something cut clean through his windpipe and bone, and his head hangs limply to the left, swaying from side to side slightly. Blood spurts occasionally from the arteries in his neck, because some part of him is still struggling to keep living.

Katsuki’s eyes are bulging out of his head, and he belatedly realizes that he’s screaming. A pained wail coming from the back of his throat, muted by the gag but loud enough to wake the dead. Oh, fuck not the time-

His throat is burning, but he can’t stop screaming, crying, staring at his boyfriend, and begging for him to just be okay again.

Shou, please-

He shakes his head hard, blinking for long intervals and praying to every god that when he opens them the next time Shouto will be there in front of him, helping him calm down. They’re in their kitchen, Katsuki’s just coming down from a panic attack, it’s way too early but Shouto’s there anyway even though he hates mornings-

In three out four, c’mon love you can do that for me. You’re strong, Katsuki.

It only makes him cry harder.

He screams again, jerking in his restraints. They weren’t even given a fucking chance. He didn’t get to say anything to the bastard that did this, he doesn’t even know who it is.

And he sure as hell wasn’t able to tell Shouto he loves him, just one more time. Gods know he didn’t say it enough already. Fuck he’s already having regrets- oh shit.

Katsuki’s out of it, hyperventilating, eyes refusing to look away from the dead body of his boyfriend for even a second.

He’s not going to survive this, fuck he can’t. He can’t live without this man oh gods oh fuck he’s going to die- he can’t do this.

HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME-

He’s got to wake up, he has to. This has to be a test or some sort of dream. Katsuki keeps waiting, crying, hoping that something happens. But what seems like an eternity passes by and he’s still locked in a room with this corpse.

Maybe that’s his punishment, starving to death trapped in a room with his person. The man he was willing to die for. He’s sure this is hell.

He knows he deserves it but, Shouto didn’t. That man never hurt a fucking fly and now he’s dead.

It’s all Katsuki’s fault.

Shouto stares at the body in front of him. It’s still twitching slightly, making little gurgle noises. But Katsuki has long since passed. Left without him. Left him alone like he promised he’d never do.

Shouto’s screamed every profanity he knows, both at Katsuki and the person who tore his heart out in front of his eyes. He left a gaping hole in both of their chests.

Katsuki’s head finally slumps to the side, eyes glazed and dull.

Shouto breaks. Tears stream down his face for the first time in years. Since he and Katsuki moved in together and he learned that he wasn’t broken, that he was still capable of love.

And look at what he gave Katsuki in return.

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brokenangelwings22 · 3 years

Text

Here's probably my only entry for IHweek. I've finally returned to writing. This is an excerpt from chapter 2 of my story Come Back Down to Earth. You can read the first chapter either on AO3 or FanFiction

Confession (IHweek 7/4) Please enjoy!

Chapter 2: Crawled In and Never Left

Give me the chance to tonight

I'll prove to you what's in my eyes

(It’s My Turn To Fly - The Urge - Titan AE soundtrack 2000)

Ichigo considered himself a reasonable man, but his patience was growing thin with his roommate.

“C’mon, man! You had a solid chance with Hime last night!” Renji pleaded with him. “Why are you so obtuse?”

“That’s an awfully big word for you.” Ichigo rolled his eyes at his friend. “Ever think of taking your own advice with Rukia?”

Renji let out a long suffering sigh. “You’re both hopeless, and therefore perfect for each other.”

“I’m perfectly happy with how things are with Hime. I don’t want to chance it.”

Renji pulled out a box of pretzel sticks from the cupboard. He fixed a concerned look on his face, and the seriousness unnerved Ichigo.

“Look. I’m not gonna force you. Even if I think you’re absolutely nuts not to. I will, however, point out that you’re an idiot for not telling her how you feel.” Renji pulled out a piece of pretzel and pointed it at Ichigo to emphasize his thought. “You’re gonna lose her one day if you continue to be ridiculous.”

Ichigo narrowed his eyes as his scowl persisted. “You think I am not aware of that?”

Renji placed the stick between his teeth and grinned toothily. “Yup!”

A sleepy noise came from behind the two men just as Ichigo opened his mouth to snap at his friend.

“Mm morning guys,” Orihime yawned as she stepped into the kitchen. “Any coffee? It’s too early.”

“Sorry Hime. Were we too loud?” Ichigo asked, his previous scowl morphing to something more kind.

“No,” she murmured. Her voice was still thick with sleep. She stumbled a little, bumping into Ichigo. “Oh hi wall. You smell nice.” Orihime leaned into his chest and snuggled him.

There was a strangled sound from Renji as he watched the young woman wrap her arms loosely around Ichigo’s waist. Instinctively, Ichigo wrapped his arms around her to steady her.

“Renji,” Ichigo said softly as to not disturb Orihime. “Please brew some coffee for her.”

“Jeez if I had known that Hime could instantly dissolve your sour mood with an embrace, I’d handcuff you both together.” Renji grumbled and shook his head, walking over to the coffeemaker on the counter.

Ichigo hummed a distracted acknowledgement as he idly stroked Orihime’s long auburn hair. She snuggled into his broad chest further. “Thanks. I’ll move her back to her room.” He was already moving towards the living room as he heard Renji’s snarky reply.

“Oh take your time. I’m merely here to serve.”

~*~*~*~

Ichigo sighed heavily as he stepped out from Orihime’s room and shut the door behind him quietly. He turned to walk down the short hallway, only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw his two friends standing a few feet away with evil grins on their faces. Squaring his shoulders and fixing a glare at Renji and Rukia, he taunted “Don’t you both have something better to do? Like, absolutely anything?”

Rukia’s grin sharpened further. “Nah, we’re more interested in heckling you.”

Ichigo grumbled, raking his fingers through his unruly hair. “Yeah yeah. You’re both insufferable.”

He flicked Rukia’s forehead and smacked Renji’s upper back swiftly as he moved to leave.

Rukia’s retort was loud as she declared, “And YOU are the annoying brother I never asked for and yet somehow got!”

Renji’s muttering was barely noticeable under the small woman’s rage. “C’mon, Rukia. Let’s leave him be.”

Ichigo rolled his eyes, stepping around the ornery woman and made his way to the kitchen. Of course, Renji was right. It annoyed him to no end that he hadn’t spoken with Orihime about how he felt towards her. Hell, if he were being honest, he knew that he was in love with her at first sight.

She’d stumbled into his dad’s clinic, buckling under the weight of her brother’s prone body. This girl, only 12 at the time, carried her six foot and change older brother from the scene of the car accident all the way there. She was battered and bruised from the wreckage too. It broke him to his very soul when he had to tell her that his father was unable to save Orihime’s brother. The ambulance Isshin had called to rush him to the trauma ward of the hospital had simply not gotten there in enough time.

He did his best to console Orihime, who collapsed in a heap on the clinic floor. Her clothes were soiled with dirt and caked in her brother’s blood.

Yuzu had entered the room, and with a kind and understanding voice, ushered the broken girl to the bathroom to wash up. Orihime stayed at his house for several days, mostly walking around with mechanical movements, much like a zombie or a robot, just going through the motions of a semblance of normalcy. At night she’d cry herself to sleep. Ichigo stayed by her side when she was awake, and would help her to bed when she could barely stay up right.

Slowly, but surely, Orihime processed the loss of her brother. Ichigo stuck to her like glue, promising her and to himself that he would always be there to protect her. Orihime professed her gratitude to him soon after she moved back to her apartment, telling him that she was eternally grateful for everything he had done. As time went on, they became inseparable. They went to the same middle school and then high school, which introduced them to new friends that they quickly established into a tight-knit group.

Orihime had grown up beautifully. Her smile, warm and bright, had the ability to render him speechless and lightheaded. He felt invincible and vulnerable all at once. Far too many times, their friends would catch him when he was slack-jawed and mindless, teasing him mercilessly when Orihime wasn’t looking.

He began calling her ‘Hime’ their senior year. He hadn’t meant to, but it just slipped out. She had been followed by a group of boys who often flocked around her, taken by her beauty and her curvaceous body. One of them had ventured to put a hand on her shoulder without permission and Ichigo had snapped. Any restraint he had frayed instantly and before he understood what was happening, he had slammed the cretin against the wall and threatened him.

“You don’t touch women without consent, especially Hime.” He growled at the other guy, clenching the offending limb.

Orihime had called his name softly, telling Ichigo to let the man go, and he had simultaneously dropped him and her request. Ichigo made it a point to be by her side every chance he had. To protect her, love her from a distance if need be. It was enough, at that time.

But once Ichigo, Orihime and their friends entered university, the strain to keep a tight seal over his feelings became increasingly more difficult. His best friend flourished in academics and her social life expanded to include other people outside of their small group. With that also came obstacles, and Ichigo had to fend off more than a few of Orihime’s admirers.

Ichigo gripped the handle of the carafe of coffee angrily at the memory. The steam and scent of the hot brew brought him back to the present. He sighed after loosening his grip and poured two cups, adding cream and sugar to Orihime’s.

Soft footfalls behind him reached his ears, along with a quiet yawn. A grin spread on his lips as Orihime came into view.

Orihime blinked away the remnants of sleep from her eyes, smiling brightly at Ichigo when he offered her the cup he’d gotten for her.

Taking a big sip, she sighed happily. “Thanks, Ichigo. You always know how to make my coffee just how I like it.”

Ichigo smiled gently at her, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Well, after knowing you for ten years, I’d like to think I know you well enough to get your preferences right.”

Orihime giggled and gazed up at him from behind the mug pressed to her lips. “You do, and I’m grateful for that. Lord knows why Rukia insists on adding extra sugar and Tatsuki puts in too little cream. You are a hero among men, good sir.”

Ichigo’s smile widened at Orihime’s playfulness. “I try my best, m’lady.”

“Where are Rukia and Renji?” Orihime asked as she looked around the kitchen.

“Don’t know. Don’t care. Hopefully somewhere off annoying someone else more deserving.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

Orihime snorted bemusedly, shaking her head in disbelief as he tried to sound convincingly bored and grumpy. She raised her hand to place it on his right cheek in a fond manner.

“What am I going to do with you?” Her question came out more flirtatious than she intended.

Ichigo’s eyes widened at her sweet gesture and instantly leaned into her touch, closing his eyes and revelling in it. He had never realized how touch starved he truly was until Orihime would step into his personal space with her warm smile and kind gaze. It was as if that one thing, a fleeting brush of her fingers, or a soothing embrace had the ability to heal his wounded heart or eradicate any scar left on his soul.

Losing his mother at such a young age had made him a hardened and angry child. He blamed himself for her death, believing that if he had done something, spent more time with her, taken care of her and his sisters more, that she may very well have recovered from cancer. But his father had explained to him many times that the disease was caught too late, and the malignancy had metastasized from her cervix to her uterus and ovaries very quickly. Ichigo was still struggling with the loss of his mother two years later, when Orihime stumbled into their clinic with her brother.

He’d figured that no matter how miserable and heart wrenching it was, he had found purpose in consoling Orihime. It gave him unbelievable strength to bond with her over the loss. Helping her ultimately helped him as well in the end. The desire to be with her only grew. It had crawled in and never left. He’d become greedy for it, overthrown by his desperation to be close to the light that was Orihime.

She continued to lightly graze his cheekbone with soft brushes against him, her warm fingers causing pleasant tingles on his skin.

Orihime cupped the side of his face as she watched in awe how he was drawn to her touch, feeling the soft smile that pulled at his lips. When he raised his hand to place it over hers, she felt herself being pulled by an invisible force, almost magnetic. He had always been like that, and she adored being the one that he let in entirely. She stroked his cheek and began to pull her palm away until he held fast to her. His eyes fluttered open, and the look he had in them made the breath catch in her throat.

“Ichi-“ she murmured breathlessly.

The raw emotion that flashed in his dark amber gaze made her spine tingle, her heart stutter and her cheeks warm. He had the ability to render her tongue-tied with the flicker of something deep and foreign to her. Ichigo pulled her into his arms, finally allowing her hand to move, and she found herself slipping it to the back of his neck and burying her fingers into his soft hair. He wrapped his arms about her, pulling her to his lean, muscular body and sighed happily as Orihime sifted her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp comfortingly.

Orihime pressed her ear over his heart, as he towered over her five foot one frame. The thumping, strong sound of it beating quieted her mind immediately. He slid his hands up and down her back, and she felt herself melt into it.

“I… I just need this, Hime.” Ichigo’s whisper filtered into her ear as he pressed his lips to her temple, sending a shiver through her body. Though quiet, she heard the fervency in his tone. She nodded against him, continuing her movements through his hair. She felt him shudder in their embrace and the breathless ‘thank you’ that he uttered.

“Were you thinking about something?” Orihime whispered back, her eyebrows drawing inwards as the possibility fluttered through her mind.

Ichigo nodded, letting out a stuttering sigh. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it. I’m better now.”

She hummed thoughtfully at his response, resigning herself to his simple answer. She wouldn’t push him further.

Finally Ichigo pulled back from her to look her in the eyes. His gaze was still intense, as it flickered with what she could only identify as resolve and something far much more akin to what she assumed she wore as an expression often in his presence. It made her heart skip a beat and her mind to race at the possibilities.

“Hime,” he murmured. The way he said her name was like an urgent plea. It caused her stomach to swoop down like she was on an out of control rollercoaster. She waited on baited breath as he gathered his thoughts.

Ichigo’s mind was restless. His need to put into words how he felt about her, loved her, desired her rushed through and permeated the recesses of his brain. He should’ve been used to the intensity of it by now, but he most certainly wasn’t. The way she watched him gave him strength to form the words, stilling the overbearing thoughts warring to leave his mouth.

“I want to kiss you,” he whispered. His simple response was anything but, knowing deep down that this could make or break their friendship. The smile she gave him nearly shut down his brain entirely.

“What took you so long?” Orihime breathed before Ichigo’s mouth was on hers, his lips holding nothing back as kissed her with all the desperation and hunger of a man starved. The radiating joy splashed over the burning desire thundering through his veins.

Orihime parted her lips as she let out a sound that would’ve embarrassed her outside of this situation. Instead, she felt exhilarated to an immeasurable degree. Her body quaked at the reverence and pure heat he poured into it. It was as if the dam of years of keeping everything bottled up in fear of losing each other burst and flooded them all at once.

She clenched her fingers in his hair as he delved his tongue into her mouth. Orihime felt her body fight between melting and being drawn taught, like a string on a bow. Ichigo’s hands slid down to her hips, flexing and gripping at her flannel pajama pants and flesh. She angled her head when he held her firmly, seeking out his tongue with her own.

Ichigo was quickly lost in the taste of her skin, the sounds she made and the feel of her. His nerve endings felt like they had caught fire. It was a sensory overload in everything Orihime. If he didn’t think he was greedy before, he certainly was now.

~~~(TBC)~~~

I certainly hope you all liked this! I should have the chapter finished bit up fairly soon. Thanks so much for reading!

Also— I’m uncertain why this isn’t showing up in the tags, so I’ll try it again.

#ihweek2021 #ichigo kurosaki #orihime inoue #ichigo x orihime

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nalgenewhore · 3 years

Text

masterlist - part one - part two ½

“Oh, I could fucking snap that pretty little neck of yours.”

Elide smirked and crossed her arms, “Keep it in your pants, Salvaterre. We’re still at work, baby.”

From the other side of her office, Lorcan sent her a glare that could freeze Hellas’ fiery realm. He crossed the room in two large strides. His long, glossy hair was in disarray. Elide practically choked on her desire to smooth it back for him. She glanced around, quickly averting her eyes from Rowan’s pointed look. His fiancée beside him wore a delighted expression, almost as if she wished she was snacking on something right about now. “Lochan, c’mon. Listen to me. If we settle now, it’ll only allow big tech corporations to completely demolish software start-ups. You know I’m right.”

“If we push, we could end up with nothing and bankrupt our client! If we settle, that leaves Nox and Luca with enough money to further their technology.” She stood up and braced her hands against the glass surface of her desk. “Lorcan, I know that you want to set precedent–”

“It’s not about setting precedent, princess,” he snapped. “I don’t give a fucking shit if people know my name or not. I’m doing the right thing here and it’s insulting that you don’t see that.” Lorcan dropped the papers on her desk. He stepped back and ran his hands through his hair before twisting his locks into a messy bun. “You’re fucking impossible, Elide.”

Elide’s spine straightened, “ I’m impossible? This is my case and since the second I asked you for help, you’ve been–”

“You’re fucking it up, Elide! You’re scared of losing and leaving those kids with nothing so you’re playing it safe and–”

“I am not playing it safe , Lorcan. I’m playing it smart. This is what we learned in school. It’s how we’re supposed to do it.”

He scoffed, his words cutting, “Yeah, according to a second-year class. I never had you pegged as a coward, Elide. You’re scared and you’re hiding behind a gods-damned book . You know, I really used to think you were cut out for this, but I’m not so sure anymore.” Tears burned her throat. Elide flicked her watery eyes to the wall of windows and focused on the glittering city lights. Lorcan inhaled sharply, as if realising what he’d just said. “Princess, shit, I’m–”

“You’re not sorry, don’t you dare lie to me,” Elide whispered. She looked up at him, “You want the case that bad, Lorcan? Fine. It’s yours. Enjoy it, you bastard.” She shoved the case file box to him so hard that it slid off the smooth surface and on pure reflex, Lorcan caught it. Elide didn’t look at anyone while she strode out of her office.

She took the elevator up to the roof and walked across the gravel-covered roof to the railing. Elide leaned against it and then, because she couldn’t help herself anymore, she let a sob fall from her lips. Elide buried her face in her hands.

She cried softly until she heard the heavy metal door drag against the gravel as it was pushed open. Elide raised her head and hastily wiped her eyes, “If you’re here to grovel, I don’t want to hear it, Salvaterre.”

“He’s not. Aelin’s chewing him out right now.”

Elide turned, sighing softly. “What are you doing out here, Rowan? I want to be alone.” A gust of cold wind blew over her. Elide hugged her arms around herself and tucked her chin into her chest to conserve heat.

Rowan walked closer and draped her heavy wool coat over her shaking shoulders. “I thought you might be cold. Might want some company, too.” He opened his arms and Elide leaned into him. “Yeah,” he said as he folded her into his warm chest and rested his chin on her head. “I know, Ellie.”

“Every time,” she sniffled, pathetically, “every time I think we- we’re getting somewhere, we fight and- and lose whatever progress we’ve made. He isn’t even mine and I keep losing him.”

“I know,” Rowan said, his brogue strong and comforting. Unbeknownst to Elide, his face was set in a deep frown, all directed at the man who sat floors below them, being berated by a woman he towered over by at least a foot.

After a few minutes, Elide stepped back. She accepted the tissue Rowan procured and wiped her mascara tracks away. “I guess I should go back and… figure this out. Are you and Ae staying?”

“No, we’ve got dinner with my parents.”

Elide nodded and looped her arm through his elbow, “Let’s go, then.” Rowan wisely didn’t try to dissuade her and escorted her back down. Aelin was waiting by the elevators, her coat and scarf on. She carried her gloves and bag in hand and stepped up to hug Elide good-bye and fuss over her hair. “Ae,” Elide said, “I’m fine, really. Go, have dinner with Ro’s parents. I’ll call you tonight.”

“Alright. But if you need me, I can ditch those losers and come over.” Rowan cleared his throat and arched an unimpressed brow. Aelin sent him a loved-up grin and kissed Elide’s cheeks, “Bye, honey.”

“Good-bye, Elide,” Rowan said.

“Night, you two. Say hi to your parents for me.”

“Of course,” Rowan nodded his head and guided his fiancée into the waiting elevator.

Elide turned on her heels and slowly walked back through the empty office to hers. She looked through the glass wall and saw Lorcan. He was sitting on the low, modern leather couch and bent forward with his forearms against his thighs.

When she walked in, Lorcan shot to his feet, his eyes wide. “El, please, listen to me. I’m sorry. Really. I didn’t- I was- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. None of it is true, you have to believe me. You- you’re an amazing lawyer, Lochan. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I know, Lorcan. Really, I know. It’s not the first time one of us has said something we didn’t mean.”

Relief flooded his face, “Ok, um, yeah. That’s good.” He flashed her a rakish grin. Elide felt her own smile grow at the sight of his. She wasn’t too stubborn to deny that Lorcan was attractive and quite possibly the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes on, but when he smiled… she could only describe him as beautiful. “And, listen, I know you think we should settle, but–”

“Lor,” Elide laughed, “let’s order dinner before we get back to it, ok? I’m starving.”

Lorcan loosened his tie and lifted his eyebrows, “You aren’t trying to wine and dine me just so I’ll agree with you, right?” Elide just hummed noncommittally and walked to her desk. She leaned back against the edge as she picked up her phone and dialed the number to their favourite restaurant. He laughed and sat down, “Right, like that would ever happen.” He paused, waiting for her response. “Right, Elide?”

“Hmmm? Oh, yeah, never.” Never. Never. Never.

She hated that the thought of them never being together made her heart crack. After she put in their classic order, she sat down next to him and they read briefs in a comfortable silence.

An hour later, their dinner arrived. Lorcan sat down on the carpeted floor and rested his back against her couch. Elide kicked her heels off and sat down against the matching armchair, perpendicular to Lorcan.

They spread out their papers around them, interspersed with boxes of Chinese takeout. Elide rested her feet in his lap, her brow furrowed as her eyes flicked back and forth across the page. Lorcan didn’t say a word and laid his hand on her ankle. His thumb soothed circles over her skin, “What is it?”

“I think we should push.”

“Lochan–”

“You’re backing down, really?” There was a fluttering sound as she dropped the package. “Stop doing that. I told you I was fine and you’re right. If we settle, it’ll only allow other corporations to go after and attack small developers.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

She narrowed her eyes in warning. “If we settle–”

“No, no, not that,” he said, smiling at her, “the thing before that. I’m what? ”

Elide rolled her eyes and flicked his nose with her index finger, “You’re right . I should’ve listened to you earlier.”

Picking up a box of sesame noodles, Lorcan passed Elide her vegetarian dumplings. “What are you thinking?”

Elide took the box and picked up her chopsticks to pinch one. She lifted the dumpling, but didn’t eat it. “About what?” They both knew he wasn’t talking about the case.

Lorcan dropped his head back against the couch cushion, “Anything.”

“I’m thinking that… this is nice. Being with you. I like it.” He looked at her and Elide frowned defensively, “What, I like your company. We don’t always have to fight.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I like it too.” Her pale cheeks pinked and they shared a gentle grin.

Elide poked his thigh with her toe, her heart pounding, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

His eyes were so dark, Elide swore she could get lost in them and willingly, too. Lorcan rubbed his hand up and down her shin, “I’m thinking maybe I don’t… hate you. Maybe I’ve never hated you.”

She could barely hear herself think, blood rushing through her ears. Slowly, Elide rose onto her knees and straddled his lap. Lorcan didn’t say a word, merely steadying her hips as she shifted. “Well, maybe I’m tired of pretending we wouldn’t be great together.”

Lorcan lifted a hand to cradle the back of her head and pull her close. They both leaned in and the tips of their noses bumped together. Her hands were surprisingly steady as she gripped his collar and tugged him that much closer. Their lips were a hair’s breadth apart when he whispered, “Let’s stop pretending then, hmm?”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: tee hee

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#ntf part two #nine to five #elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #isa writes #nalgenewhore

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