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sunderwight · 9 days

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Thinking about a bingqiu Dreamling AU where Shen Yuan and Shang Qinghua are both bored deities, just sort of taking a brief sojourn through the mortal world to shoot the shit and see some interesting monster or other that Shen Yuan has heard about, when they come across a tea house and decide to take a break and do some people-watching instead.

Shen Yuan is well into something of a shut-in phase, which Shang Qinghua doesn't like, mostly because when Shen Yuan is in those phases he doesn't do particularly well either. Shen Yuan's a social butterfly, for however little he cares to actually acknowledge it about himself, and his critique of Shang Qinghua's literary masterpieces gets so much harsher when he's not getting enough enrichment.

So when they overhear one of the kitchen boys solemnly insisting that he is going to do everything in his power to never die, and Shen Yuan laments that the boy would probably regret such a wish if it came true, Shang Qinghua decides to bestow a rare bit of godly power onto this mortal and grant his wish.

He doesn't make him a god, of course, that wouldn't even be in his ability. At least, not without using up more time and effort than he's prepared to expend on this one random kid. But immortality on its own is not that difficult. The boy will still finish growing up, and will still be able to be harmed, to know hunger and pain and illness. It just won't ever kill him.

Shen Yuan sighs that it's a cruel thing to do to a mortal, especially one with such low odds of ever cultivating other skills to mitigate the potential torment of it all. But Shang Qinghua just shrugs and they place bets, that this boy will ask for the immortality to be revoked in a hundred years, or two hundred, or so on, or else he won't. Shen Qingqiu approaches the kitchen boy and flusters and bewilders him by telling him to meet him back here again in a hundred years time.

A hundred years later, the tea house is larger. The boy has grown to be a striking young man, who looks at Shen Yuan with wariness and something else, something almost like awe, as he asks what manner of creature he's made this bargain with. Shen Yuan assures him that he has no nefarious intentions, and instead asks Luo Binghe how the past century of his life has gone.

Horribly, at least at first. Binghe's mother had already died by the time they met, but afterwards he managed to earn enough money to travel to a nearby sect. Working in the tea house's kitchen was just a minor stopover along the way. Shen Yuan was wrong, it seems, about his odds of becoming a cultivator -- Luo Binghe earned entry as a disciple.

Yet, he had no success. The master who took him on was unaccountably cruel and mercurial, and Luo Binghe's attempts to cultivate failed. Looking back he sees now that there were many times when he should have died but didn't, but when it was all happening he just thought himself lucky. At least until an enemy sect attacked a cultivation conference, and he suffered mortal wounds that absolutely should have killed him (or anyone) but still didn't die. (No demon race or abyss in this AU, but there are still demonic and fantastical creatures.)

His cruel master, upon witnessing this, accused him of heretical practices and tried to kill him as well by flinging him off the edge of a gorge. The fall was terrible. Binghe lay at the bottom in a horrifying state, injured beyond reason and yet, still, he didn't die. Eventually his body recovered enough for him to drag himself out, and once he did the only thing on his mind was getting revenge. For the next several decades he managed to ingratiate himself to all manner of potential allies, forging alliances, accumulating blackmail, and convincing people that he had to be some powerful cultivator through his supernatural resilience, lack of visible aging, and a lot of bluffing. He got revenge on his old teacher, drove his first sect into ruin, and rose to prominence as a feared and respected leader of the cultivation world.

Shen Yuan listens with clear interest, asking plenty of questions and seemingly quite taken up with the story. At the conclusion, Luo Binghe admits that his actual cultivation is still mostly a matter of smoke and mirrors, and wonders if -- now that the hundred years have passed -- Shen Yuan means to strip his immortality from him.

Shen Yuan asks if Luo Binghe wants that. When Luo Binghe says no, he accepts the answer, and tells him to meet him back here again in another hundred years. Luo Binghe calls after him, but before he can ask anything more, Shen Yuan has disappeared again.

A hundred years later, Binghe arrives back at the tea house with an entourage befitting of an emperor. The tea house has also expanded. Luo Binghe orders a lavish feast from them, which everyone hastens to provide. He's spent the past several decades consolidating his power, forging alliances with key political players via several marriages, producing heirs, and crushing his enemies. As he brags about the state of his massive harem to Shen Yuan, the deity's eyes begin to glaze over. He doesn't seem impressed. He also doesn't seem to care much for the food, and eventually his attention is stolen away by a conversation at another table. The diners are discussing the exploits of a promising new poet and novelist. Try as he might, Luo Binghe fails to regain Shen Yuan's attention before the evening is done. Shen Yuan doesn't think it's a big deal -- after all, if Binghe is still riding on top of the world, he's probably not going to want his immortality gift revoked just yet!

Another hundred years go by. The tea house has returned to a more modest situation, the next time Shen Yuan sets foot in it. He waits an unusually long while for his guest to arrive, and when he does, he's almost stopped at the door by the tea house's servers. It's only when Shen Yuan bids them let him through that Luo Binghe is able to come to the table, almost collapsing against it and desperately falling onto the arrangement of snacks with obvious hunger.

Shen Yuan wonders if this, now, will be when the boy (no longer a boy) asks for the immortality to be revoked. Surprisingly, he finds himself resistant to the idea, even though it's also clear that the game has run too long. Maybe hundred year check-ins were too short? He doesn't like the implications of what's gone on, even if he's not really surprised about it either.

Between desperate mouthfuls of food, Luo Binghe explains that without mastering inedia, going hungry but never dying is a deeply unpleasant experience. Shen Yuan orders more food. Once Binghe has finally eaten his fill, he begins, haltingly, to explain his situation. His clothes are ragged, he is painfully thin, and his gaze is haunted.

Apparently, several of his wives conspired to assassinate him, despite his reputation as unkillable. Realizing that most poisons and such didn't kill him, but that he could still be incapacitated, they hatched a scheme to dose his food with a powerful sleeping agent, and then walled him up in a famous ancestral tomb. They went to great length to ensure that it was impossible to escape from. It took Binghe decades to do it anyway, digging away at the floors, and when he got out he found that his power base had collapsed. In-fighting and the incursion of his enemies had led to the deaths of all of his children, and what wives had survived had either fled or remarried. Not that he particularly wanted them back at that point, since the ones actually most loyal to him had also been killed early on after his own "death". His face marked him, to the eyes of his enemy, as a surviving descendant of himself. He was hunted down, chased across the continent and back again, until he managed to fall into enough obscurity that his pursuers abandoned the chase. Except that he has nothing, and any time he tries to regain something, he runs the risk of being hounded again. Those who might see some potential in him still remember the collapse of his recent "dynasty" and slam doors in his face, or else try and turn him over to those now in power in pursuit of a reward. Those who don't know that much see only a dirty beggar, and usually run him off on that basis instead.

Shen Yuan, almost hesitant, asks if Luo Binghe would like to have his immortality revoked.

Luo Binghe declines. How will he be able to take revenge on those who wronged him if he is dead? He has a hit list a mile long by now.

Which is definitely not the most noble of reasons to persist, but Shen Yuan finds himself reluctant to ask twice. Instead he orders more food, and then even reserves one of the traveler's rooms above the tea house for several days. By then the sky is turning grey, and Luo Binghe is losing his apparent battle with exhaustion. Shen Yuan presses the key into his hand, thinking it's probably not enough, but there are limits to how much gods are supposed to interfere and Shang Qinghua already stretched them to the breaking point with this entire scenario.

He leaves, not seeing the hand that reaches after him just before he is out of the door and gone.

Another hundred years pass. This time, Shen Yuan arrives to find Luo Binghe already waiting for him. He isn't surprised to see that Binghe's situation has visibly improved -- maybe he was keeping closer tabs on him, just a little bit, for this past while. If only to be sure he wouldn't have to warn the tea house workers to expect an unorthodox visitor again! But no, Binghe has been doing well enough for himself. No more harems or thrones, though. He dresses more like a well-off merchant now, deliberately posing as his own mortal descendant rather than as a great immortal cultivator. The food at the table looks far more delicious than usual too (Binghe commandeered the tea house's kitchen himself this time). As they chat, Shen Yuan is regaled with the exploits of Luo Binghe's travels and adventures, how even though he initially set out to claim revenge on those who overthrew him, by the time he was in a position to actually do so they had already died of the usual causes (time, illness, their own schemes backfiring, etc). Subsequently, only their children and grandchildren were left with the scraps of power they had obtained, and when one of those children employed Luo Binghe as a bodyguard, his initial plan to assassinate them eventually fell by the wayside. After all, the wrongdoings weren't actually theirs. From that point, Binghe was able to restore himself to a more comfortable life, joining his new employer on their travels until he had set aside enough earnings to take his leave before his youthful good-looks earned him suspicion. He then began investing in travel and trade, specifically cargo ships, because never spending too long in the same place or around the same people helped disguise his immortality. He had found that, at least for now, this served him better than playing the part of a cultivator. It also gave him time to try and actually repair his ruined cultivation base somewhat, and fighting pirates proved very diverting.

Binghe is midway through recounting his adventures with a gigantic sea monster, while Shen Yuan hangs on every word, when they're interrupted by the arrival of a brash young mistress, clearly wealthy and trained in cultivation. The young lady declares that there is a rumor that a fallen god and a demon meet in this tea house once a century, that they wield strange powers, etc etc, and she intends to interrogate them both with the assistance of her hired muscle and her own spiritual weapon, and discover the truth of the matter. Then she whips out, well, a whip!

Before Shen Yuan can deal with the matter, Luo Binghe is already on his feet, disarming the goons and breaking a few arms in the process. Shen Yuan is so distracted that he almost misses the whip aimed right for him, but before Binghe can catch the barbed weapon with his bare hand (wtf, Binghe, no) Shen Yuan deflects it with a wave of his fan, and then efficiently knocks the troublesome young lady unconscious. The hired muscle flees, Shen Yuan arranges for their assailant to be placed in a room upstairs until she regains consciousness, and he and Binghe resume their meal and conversation in relative peace.

Even though it's clear that Luo Binghe has not yet reached the end of his tolerance for life, Shen Yuan nevertheless finds himself strangely reluctant to part ways at the end of the night. Still, he does, because that's what is expected of him, gently denying Luo Binghe's suggestions that they find some other establishment to continue their conversation at. He also has to investigate these "rumors" that the young lady mentioned. It's probably nothing (Shang Qinghua has a loose tongue when he's drunk, and a lot of imaginative storytellers have frequented this tea house over the years) but he doesn't like being caught unawares like that. Heavenly politics are... complicated, it's best not to court unwanted attention in any capacity.

Another hundred years go by. This time, when they meet at the tea house, Luo Binghe asks Shen Yuan why he keeps it up. Why did he pick Binghe? What is he really after? When Shen Yuan fails to give any kind of clear answer, Luo Binghe shoots his shot and makes a (very obvious) move on him.

Shen Yuan, flustered, gets up and flees. Ignoring Luo Binghe's calls after him. It just doesn't make any sense! Why would Binghe do that?! He's a man who once had a harem of wives in the triple digits! Clearly he's not gay, so what was that all about? Was he just messing with him?! How dare he! Etc, etc.

Another century passes. Luo Binghe waits at the tea house, which has fallen onto hard times again. With the construction of some new roadways, travelers no longer pass through as often. Binghe listens, worried, to the proprietor's laments that this old place will probably not be around in another hundred years. He listens because he has no one else to speak to, because Shen Yuan has not shown up. Not that morning, not during the day, not come evening, and not now that it is closing time. Binghe nevertheless charms and bribes the proprietor to let him stay even after the place has shuttered.

It seems damning, of course. He pressed too hard and now his mysterious benefactor wants nothing more to do with him. Except, no, he refuses to accept that. He's still immortal. And he has gleaned enough of Shen Yuan's character by now that he thinks that even if he was rejected, he would be let down more clearly and gently than this. The more he thinks about it, the less willing Luo Binghe is to believe that he has been deliberately stood up (also, since the tenor of his confession was different from Hob Gadling's, he never delivered an ultimatum about what it might imply when they met up again).

Over the centuries, Luo Binghe has built up a few contacts with similarly strange and supernatural stories. Cultivators, sure, but also others, fortune tellers and people of strange ancestry, questionable abilities, those who have interacted with powerful beings of mysterious provenance. He makes his way to a certain gambling den, frequented often by such people, and while he flashes around enough money to draw curiosity, he collects information. Shen Yuan wasn't the only person who started paying more attention to the kinds of rumors surrounding the two of them after their confrontation with the young cultivator a couple centuries ago. And in fact, Luo Binghe has been spending many, many years trying to find out more about his mystery man. Though, too many potential deities and immortals fit his description for him to have ever conclusively figured much out.

This is how Binghe gets wind of a rumor that an eccentric occultist has somehow captured a god in his basement...

#svsss #bingqiu #scum villain's self saving system #bingyuan #scum villain #long post #whoever the roderick burgess proxy is here he's got a big storm coming #going the classic dreamling fanfic route and having shen yuan get rescued instead of having to escape by himself #shang qinghua has definitely made other people immortal on various whims and impulses #he bestows his gift recklessly on a betrayed young prince at one point and the divine emperor is just like 'enough!'#'if you're doing to do this I'm going to make you babysit the results! you descend and work for that prince now!' so he's got his hands ful #dreamling might be the situation but shen yuan isn't much of a dream of the endless type #and luo binghe is nothing like hob gadling lol #'I want to live because I love life!' nope it's mostly about spite #the hardest part of this AU is imagining a universe where shen yuan would ignore luo binghe for long enough to let actual centuries pass

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onbearfeet · 3 months

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Kat watches Moon Knight

Okay, so with the encouragement of several people on here and the emotional support of my roommate, I have finally (in February 2024) started watching Moon Knight, a show whose basic concept scares the shit out of me.

Context: I had an adopted older brother with DID. Note that I said "had". That's past tense because life treated him so appallingly poorly that he died (horribly, in prison) when I was 19. Part of that abuse was enabled by pop-culture depictions of DID in the 1980s and 90s that convinced everyone who knew about his condition (including the court system) that he was a walking time bomb.

One of my earliest memories is of my brother as a young adult, playing Super Mario Bros with my toddler self. Another is of him patiently teaching me how to make friends with a large dog. I never met any of his alters, afaik; I was small and cute and safe for him to be himself with, so he probably didn't need them around me. He was a profoundly gentle man when he was allowed, and it hurt like hell to see him turned into a monster in movies and on TV. I've turned off a lot of "psychological thrillers" in sorrow and disgust.

Ironically, I loved Moon Knight comics as a kid in the 90s, BEFORE he was retconned to have DID circa the mid-2000s. Because those comics came out right after my brother died in 2002 and leaned HARD into making people with DID seem like violently unstable monsters (for reference, see the cover of Moon Knight: God and Country), I stopped reading them around 2008, when I couldn't take being poked in the trauma by a comfort character anymore.

But I do love Werewolf By Night, and there's been a lot of good fic mashing Jack up with Moon Knight without dehumanizing anyone, and several people have encouraged me to try the show. So this post will be a place for my thoughts as I try to work my way through with my Essential Editions in one hand and my memories of my brother in the other. I'll add to it as I watch.

If this entertains the Moon Knight fandom or provides useful fic reference, so be it. Just don't be jerks on my post.

Also, anyone who chooses to be shitty about my brother will be eaten by bears. I don't make the rules.

Episode 1

Okay, we open with Steven as our POV character, and he's...convinced he's a sleepwalker. All right, not terrible. Steven is now a bumbling nerd, which is probably an improvement; good luck making a billionaire playboy sympathetic in the 2020s. Jake would be the logical everyman POV from the comics, but I understand from fic that he's got a different role now. I'm confused about the accent, but it's only episode 1, and Steven clearly doesn't yet know who Khonshu is, or that Marc exists, so obviously there's a ways to go here. (Is Marc ... undercover inside Steven? Ugh, this is a trope I have seen and do not like.)

Did Marc kill Steven's fish? Did Khonshu kill Steven's fish? I'm baffled by the fish. Which is a nice break from the larger anxiety. I'm gonna try to worry more about the fish.

The bits with Steven losing time and finding himself in odd situations were distressingly close to the old tropes, but both of those happened to my brother, so I'm not going to bitch about them quite yet. I want to be as fair as I can.

Oh, hey, I recognize Harrow from the comics. What up, dude. How's the cult biz treating you?

The end of the episode, with the jackal thing chasing Steven into the bathroom, came RIGHT up to the line for me. I realized that what I was most afraid of was that the story would assign "good" and "bad" labels to the alters--make Steven the sweet, innocent one and Marc (or maybe Jake, I guess) the monstrous killer. The early flashes of Steven covered in blood didn't really help allay that anxiety. And now Marc is demanding that Steven let him have control in a pretty threatening manner. But so far, it seems like the contrast between Marc and Steven is one of competence--Marc is better at fighting and Steven is better at ... panicking? Unclear. At least Oscar Isaac is playing the protagonist, so his character(s) might remain sympathetic. Nobody has been monsterized quite yet.

I finished the episode with every muscle in my body locked up, waiting for the emotional punch in the face. But I did finish it, and I think I'm gonna try episode two.

#kat watches moon knight #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #i guess I'm processing trauma again #hello trauma my old friend

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acetone4veins · 2 months

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Quotes + Mean Girls

associating angsty quotes (and some fluffy ones) to mean girls characters and dynamics, this is definitely longer than it should be and will probably be part 1 of many but anyways. lmk which were your favorites and which ones ruined you :) also shoutout to the cautionary tale discord who saw some of these already and ramble about these characters with me <3

posting under the cut so i don't clog anyone's feeds

Regina

"what a terrible thing to wound someone you really care for - and to do it so unconsciously."

Haruki Murakami

"and when nobody wakes you up in the morning, and when nobody waits for you at night, and when you can do whatever you want. what do you call it, freedom or loneliness?"

Charles Bukowski

"i am changing. i am trying to be better. it is slow; it is rough; it is repetitive, but i swear i am."

Abdulsamad S. M.

"i did not like to be touched, but it was a strange dislike. i did not like to be touched because i craved it too much. i wanted to be held very tight so i would not break."

Marya Hornbacher

"i was not a loveable child, and i'd grown into a deeply unlovable adult. draw a picture of my soul, and it'd be a scribble with fangs."

Gillian Flynn

"if only my heart were as cold as i pretend it is, maybe i could get over this."

Jessica Katoff

"i wasn't beautiful anymore. now i looked like what i was, a raw wound."

Janet Fitch

"i'm restless and harsh and despairing. although i do have love inside me. i just don't know how to use love. sometimes it tears at my flesh, like barbs."

Clarice Lispector

"i did not mean to be cruel. i swear i am good, i am good, i am kind. i have love inside me. some place far far away."

unknown

Cady

"how much can you change and get away with it, before you turn into someone else, before its some kind of murder?"

Richard Siken

"your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing."

Dyodor Dosteovsky

"what and how much had i lost by trying to do only what was expected of me instead of what i myself wished to do?"

Ralph Ellison

"my god, my god, whose performance am i watching? how many people am i? who am i? what is this space between myself and myself?"

Fernando Pessoa

"it was good for a while, being empty. i didn't hurt anymore. but as time went on, it was like i could hear myself from far away, begging for permission to come back."

Myra McEntire

"is it better to out-monster the monster or to be quietly devoured?"

Friedrich Nietzsche

"who's the real you? the person who did something awful, or the one who's horrified by the awful thing you did? is one part of you allowed to forgive the other?"

Rebecca Stead

"you're a mess of good intentions gone wrong. you strike a match on yourself to keep others warm, and now the whole goddamn world's on fire. you try to put it out, and you try so hard. the dam breaks, and the waters of your sorrow pour free. you are sorry; so very, very sorrow - and you will drown everyone to prove it."

unknown

Janis

"there are times when i am convinced i am unfit for any human relationship."

Franz Kafka

"i am eternally, devastatingly romantic, and i thought people would see it because 'romantic' doesn't mean 'sugary'. it's dark and tormented - the furor of passion, the despair of an idealism that you cannot attain."

Catherine Breillat

"but whatever came, she had resolved never again to belong to another than herself."

Kate Chopin

"there were two reasons i was scared to let people in; the damage they could do, and the damage they could find."

Chris McGeown

"perhaps its good for one to suffer. can an artist do anything if he's happy? would he ever want to do anything? what is art, after all, but a protest against the horrible inclemency of life?"

Aldous Huxley

Gretchen

"i want so obviously, so desperately to be loved, and to be capable of love."

Sylvia Plath

"she wanted to say 'don't leave me', but she couldn't do it, not again. she was so tired of begging people to love her."

Kristin Hannah

"he is charmingly telling me how much he does not love me...and i, - listening to him carefully, - am approving it."

Marina Tsvetaeva

"she's gonna forever say 'i got this' even with tears in her eyes."

unknown

"still there is this terrible desire to be loved. still, there is this horror at being left behind."

Michael Cunningham

"can you understand me? someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little?"

Sylvia Plath

"i am trying to make myself digestible. i am trying to make myself easy to love."

I.B. Vyache

"do you think it is possible that some people are born to give more love than they will ever get back in return?"

Tyler Knott Gregson

Karen

"the sensitive suffer more; but they love more, and dream more."

Augusto Cury

"a lot of people tell me i'm a bit dreamy. but i like the idea of that. of being somewhere else."

Alam

"you cannot make everyone think and feel as deeply as you do. this is your tragedy, because you understand them but they do not understand you."

Daniel Saint

Regina and Janis

"the bear loved the deer, it was obvious. it ripped the deer's throat out, and then licked the dying deer with the most passionate affection. i thought of you and me."

David Cronenberg

"can you hate someone for what they have done, but still love them for whom they had been?"

Jodi Picoult

"love isn't soft, like those poets say. love has teeth which bite and the wounds never close."

Stephen King

"i love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul."

Pablo Neruda

"they will hook me up to a polygraph and ask me if i love you and i will say no but the needle will jump and sputter exactly how you laugh."

unknown

"there's a sickening feeling of familiarity, when the wrong person knows you too well and you know them too well. and they weren't always the wrong person."

unknown

"we don't mean to hurt each other, but we do. and perhaps no matter how right we are for each other, we'll always be a little wrong."

Beau Taplin

Regina and Cady

"i am intense darkness and you are a golden sunrise."

Arijit Singh and Pritam

"even before you touched me, i belonged to you; all you had to do was look at me."

unknown

"whether you come as a lover or an executioner, i am ready to receive you."

Agustin Gomez-Arcos

"for the longest time, i saw myself as a bad person. you don't know how much it meant to me when you looked at me and could see the good."

unknown

"but i have seen the best of you and the worst of you, and i choose both."

Sarah Kay

"i promised myself i would never fall in love with you. but it was 4 am, and we were laughing way too hard, and i felt happy for the first time in a long time, and i knew i was screwed."

unknown

Gretchen and Karen

"i would rather be with you - even the you that you seem to think is diminished - than with anyone else in the world."

Jojo Moyes

"it hurts, he realizes, to love someone who can't love themselves. like watching a work of art set itself on fire."

unknown

"how amazing it is to find someone who wants to hear about all the things that go on in your head."

Nina LaCour

"come love, make me better than i was. come teach me a kinder way to say my own name."

Andrea Gibson

"i wanted you to see a mess and still find me worthy of love, to tell me that you could still love me anyway."

Georges Bataille

"sometimes, love is as simple as watching the moon and sometimes its as difficult as counting the stars. but i love doing both for you."

unknown

Janis and Damian

"you may be born into a family, but you walk into friendships. some you'll discover you should put behind you. others are worth every risk."

Adam Silvera

Regina and Gretchen

"but i am very homesick for arms that have never held me."

unknown

"i burned so long so quiet you must have wondered if i loved you back. i did, i did, i do."

Annelyse Gelman

"so i wait for you like a lonely house till you will see me again and live in me. till then my windows ache."

Pablo Neruda

"how do you tell someone that the reason you're sad is because you love them?"

unknown

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catholic-character-tournament · 1 year

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Round 1 - Side A

Propaganda below ⬇️

Pastry

GOD girlie gets a vision of the past showing her the truth of her and all cookies creation, and chooses to keep believing the lies she was fed because she doesn’t know any other way

this girl SO TRAUMATIZED IT'S UNREAL. She's on the tipping point from cult victim to cult persecutor and it hurts sooooooo bad. So Cookie Run Kingdom Tower of Sweet Chaos spoilers but it's unclear what happened to her to make her join, or if she was born into it, or something else, but it *is* clear that she's completely unaware of modern society outside of the Order and is 100% convinced this is how all Rational And Correct people act (hint: It's Not) so she acts all confident and rational but she's actually paranoid as FUCK. She's constantly quadruple checking every single thing she does, every single thought she has and emotion she feels, to make sure it's in line with the Order's expectations of her. She wants that praise and affection SO BAD because everyone's literally SO connection starved!!! And to make it worse, she's sent on a mission to purge all the Cakes living around the Oven the Cookies & Cakes were created in, and on it she encounters the overarching antagonists (this is so in depth but it's literally a micro-plot the lore of this game is INSANE. Sprawling fantasy, political drama, CRK is incredible) and is made aware of the fact (along with the player, whom probably is flipping their shit) that THE COOKIES WERE CREATED BY THE WITCHES SO THEY COULD *EAT THEM.* So her entire life has been shattered but also she's still under the impression that THIS IS ALL SHE HAS. From her perspective it's either this or she becomes what she thinks is a terrible horrible evil worst person on Earthbread Ever. So she goes back and she's like Reverend Mother (real name) I found out the most horrible thing. And her superior is like Ah. *I know.* And she convinces her that she's learnt some horrifying secret that nobody else can know otherwise it'll hurt them too, so SHE STAYS AND GETS WORSE. It drives me CRAZY this place is so bad. This is in motherfucking COOKIE RUN KINGDOM. This game is so dark and graphic it's unreal. Also literally everyone in the Order is a girl for some reason and it's never explained why??? Do they not recruit men??? If they're self sufficient what do they do with the men??? Do they kill them??? Do they convince them they're Actually Just Girls But Different??? Neither would surprise me at this point like actually

hope she explodes

She’s a cookie nun belonging to an order that worships the witches who baked the cookies. She later learns that cookies were baked to be eaten and that all this time she’s been worshipping MONSTERS AND HAS A FAITH CRISIS. RELIGIOUS TRAUMA AF

Angel

I don’t remember if he was Catholic as a human (he was Irish like a few hundred years ago so probably) but his guilt complex as a vampire is so fucking massive it has to be Catholic lbr

well he's from 1700s ireland so. theres that. he's (for most of the series) the only vampire with a soul and he uses that soul to feel really guilty for everything all the time. he moves to LA and starts saving people from demons to try and atone for everything he did while he was a soulless vampire

he makes exactly one facial expression and its |:<

#pastry cookie #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #angel buffy #buffy the vampire slayer #angel the series #cct polls #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #tumblr polls

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positively--speculative · 2 months

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I think a lot of the bad interpretations of AMC's IWTV boils down to the mindset of "This vampire cannot *really* be bad or flawed because he's hot." And, again, I blame Anne Rice. Anne Rice created attractive vampires and had them do awful things, but never used her storytelling skills to corner the reader about it. The bad things just happen and then the story moves on, and her fans are just like, "Well, the ethics and morals of a monster are different than humans, so it's not actually *bad.*"

Yes. Yes, it is. And damn, how is it you recognize they are "monsters" but don't recognize the monstrous things they do.

Good gothic storytelling acknowledges that vampires can be hot and terrible and makes you *uncomfortable* with the fact you find them hot. It is an uncomfortable reality that people can be the most horrible people who do horrible things and still be attractive.

Like, the only vampire they all agree on is bad is Magnus, and gee, I wonder why that is? And in the show? They're all convinced that the Black and Brown vampires are the ones being dishonest but somehow things are going to be made right once the white vampire tells his story, because to them, his side is the only valid side. If Anne Rice was really good at what she set out to do, she would have challenged these types of biases in her readers. Instead, she validated them, and they carried their biases to the show.

#Amc iwtv #Iwtv #Fandom racism #Gothic storytelling #Anti-Anne Rice #Media literacy

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strangestcase · 1 year

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Jekyll and Hyde isn’t a case of intrusive thoughts

Guys. Guys. I know your hobby is to misconstrue what intrusive thoughts are, but Hyde doesn’t represent intrusive thoughts. At all.

CW: mentions of physical and sexual violence under the cut

Intrusive thoughts are the voice in your head that says: listen to what I have to say. Rape your mother. Kill your best friend. Harass that stranger. Molest your child. Strangle your partner. Grab that knife and cut your genitals with it.

And you hurt. Those are such horrible things. You could never, ever do that, but you’re disgusted that the thought would cross your brain.

Disgusted, aren’t you? You are such a horrible person for listening to me. You are disgusting. You don’t want to hurt others or yourself. That’s terrible. But you can’t help it- your brain is spitting the worst things it can think of at yourself, with the purpose of being miserable. Nothing in this world could ever make you do the things that voice tells you to- even if the voice sounds convincing, even if you think, even for a moment, you’d enjoy it, and even if you let it linger and fantasize before snapping back to reality and finally think, with a sinking feeling, God, I’m such a fucking piece of shit.

You don’t want to be that!

But of course, there are other voices in your head. Everybody has them. One of them is called Temptation, and oh god, Intrusive Thoughts does a damn good job pretending to be them. Temptation says: hey, wouldn’t it be great if you could eat whatever you wanted? Do you want to eat sweets right now even if you know you shouldn’t? And you do. You agree. But you can’t, sadly. There are rules. But, it says, wouldn’t it be great if you could insult your boss? Go and insult your boss! And yeah, you want to do that, but of course you can’t do that. Hey, go and do something dumb and reckless! You think that “something” is fun, but it’s dangerous. Hmmm, I’ll sleep on it. Maybe another day, maybe never. Don’t you want to be a little shit sometimes? Well, yes. But I have a job! I have friends and family that will say that’s wrong! And I can’t do wrong things, can’t I?

The instant you can, you will think about it. And that voice will pipe up and you will think about it again. This time I’m alone in the kitchen and I have poor impulse control- I might as well eat sweets. And my boss isn’t on Tumblr, so I will make a post calling him a big crock of shit there, where he can’t see me! See? Doesn’t it feel great to do what you want? Yes, yes, you agree. It’s so sad you can’t do that all the time, though.

Hyde is not that first voice. He’s the second. Jekyll would LOVE to be a violent piece of shit all the time. Even if he doesn’t realize. Maybe you, too, would like that. That doesn’t matter- he does. If Jekyll didn’t have to care about his reputation, or other people, he sure as hell wouldn’t blink if he trampled a girl. He doesn’t care- under the effects of the drug, he just can’t care. And it’s enjoyable, honestly.

Hyde can’t be intrusive thoughts because, here is the key: you can’t indulge in intrusive in intrusive thoughts. You can’t indulge in intrusive thoughts the same way you can’t indulge in a nice relaxing bath of poison-coated red hot razor blades and live scorpions. You don’t enjoy them. You don’t let them in. They are someone else, someone that wants you to suffer, a trick of your anxious brain that is constantly firing off the alarms but needs to have a good excuse first.

Rant the fuck over.

Signed: someone who has violent and sexual intrusive thoughts and doesn’t appreciate it when people go “wow! this fictional monster is you if your anxiety disorder was right!”

#jekyll and hyde #the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde #dr jekyll and mr hyde #jekyll and hyde weekly

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the-blackholeus · 1 year

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My Hogwarts Legacy Aftermath

Warning! Spoilers of course, and the fact that not everything is 100% canon because I am a grown woman and I can do whatever I want.

After Ranrok got defeated by my Slytherin MC Micer Bloodhound, he did not die but rather fall into a magical coma as a result of his transformation. Taking pity on him despite everything he has done – murdering Lodgok and Fig was by far the worst –, Micer took him to a shelter and takes care of him with the help of ancient magic, keeping him alive, well-fed and hydrated over the course of five years, in which she also graduates with exceptional grades.

In early spring of 1896, when she has reached the age of 20, Ranrok finally awakens, weak, confused and very, very ill, his eyes still red as a permanent aftermath of the use of corrupted powers. The Hero of Hogwarts, who had dived into the depths of her gift, begun to research it to gain a better understanding of what she was truly capable of and also taken up the job of killing poachers, dark wizards and dangerous creatures for money, continues to aid him despite the fact that the goblin was still as hateful towards her as before. While helping him recover, she offered him two options.

She would hand him to the ministry and leave him at their mercy to face the consequences of his crimes, or

He’d join her to become some sort of sidekick, help her research the ancient magic and make up for his horrible doings with good deeds.

And while Ranrok still absolutely despised her for defeating and humiliating him, he chose the latter, afraid of what would await him if the officers would get their hands on him.

After his recovery was complete, they began to travel the wizard world in order to continue Micer’s research. They do so for a while, searching for other people that might have the same gift or are aware of its existence, and during that time, they both get to know each other and became something that could be called friends.

Turns out, Ranrok was initially just creating a social movement to finally stop the wizards from oppressing goblins, but unfortunately for him, he came across the first repository. The corrupted magic took hold of him, clouded his mind, his judgement, and turned him into a monster. The more time passed the more it became clear that, now in his right mind, he regrets every wrong he did, aware that he did nothing to help but rather harm the reputation of goblins with his terrible actions. And of course, the murder of his brother, his own brother whom he had held so dearly before everything went downhill, plagued him every living moment.

And if it wouldn’t be for the lively Miss Bloodhound, who has begun to actively fight the discrimination against goblins and every other magical creature that was oppressed by the magical society, he would have long given up. Even though he would rather die than admit that to anyone…

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

I am convinced that Ranrok isn’t as evil as he was presented. One strong evidence that he is suffering from corruption is that Lodgok, who obviously loves his brother, told us that over time, Ranrok and his followers, whom all have received a part of the power he wielded, changed dramatically.

His and the eyes of all that serve under him are a flaming red, something that is definitely not normal for goblins as they all have almost charcoal black eyes. He seemed to become more and more out of control as the story goes on, as if the corruption was taking more and more hold of him, and I am sure that he would have never slaughtered his brother if it wouldn’t have been for that.

Ranrok does possess a deep-seated hatred for wizards – no wonder after what had been done to him – but I am sure that he would never have harmed his own family.

#Hogwarts Legacy #Hogwarts Legacy AU #Hogwarts Legacy aftermath #ranrok #lodgok #Hogwarts Legacy MC #Slytherin MC

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deathlygristly · 8 months

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Sometimes I read posts and comment and tags on here and I wonder if I am maybe very stupid and always wrong and should never speak or write again.

Then I keep reading and I realize it's just that the commenters are coming from a very different position and experiences with the world and others and I guess maybe a very different neurotype than I am.

The current example, under a readmore because long and probably boring to other people but writing things out helps me organize my thoughts:

I am reading a blog by a person who has interesting thoughts and who I can learn things from but who frequently uses very authoritarian/absolutist language. It was good to see balanced anons calling that out, like yeah sometimes you write cool stuff but you can also be arrogant about it. So I was primed to question my feelings of being horribly ignorant and always wrong more than I usually am.

I came upon a post about how people who have power and use it to hurt others aren't "evil" and it's wrong to say that. I tend to think it's morally wrong to hurt others, so I was like, huh, am I looking at things horribly wrong and being terribly ignorant and stupid again? So I read the comments and reblogs and tags to see what other people thought.

The main issue seemed to be heading off people who think in absolutist terms, like these people are Good and those people are Evil, and so they might want to keep current systems that cause misery but just put people they consider Good at the top of the systemic hierarchy. But instead of just tackling that head on and directly saying hey, systemic issues won't be changed that much by just changing the figureheads, the OP and the people agreeing with them were saying no, we have to say it in this other more abstract indirect not related at all at first glance way that will confuse people and alienate them and maybe make them feel shame if they aren't already part of our ingroup and understand everything about our worldview. And we have to say it in this more complicated way because maybe if they think of people as Good or Evil then they might think systemic issues could be solved by changing the figureheads and we don't want them to think that, and confusing possibly shaming language is the way to keep them from thinking that?

Like I say often, when I was nine years old I read every book the local library had on the Holocaust. It's always been fairly clear to me that the Nazis were people. Back in the day I used to try to argue something that seemed close to the OP’s and commenters’ actual position - that the Nazis were humans doing human things, not monsters doing monster things that no human would ever do, and that you can in fact find yourself doing those same things if you don't watch out for it.

It's just that I also think that participating in genocide is actually an immoral thing to do. And even if you don't enjoy it and you don't like killing massive numbers of other humans, it still says something about your morality that you consider whatever "incentives" are drawing you towards participating in genocide as more important than not murdering millions of people.

And I don't know that saying "People who participate in genocide don't actually want to cause enormous suffering and trauma and death, they're just following incentives! And obviously you are very immature and very wrong and stupid if you think the camp guards and commandants were not good people!" is going to help you convince people that more work is needed to prevent genocide than just replacing the most powerful person in the group committing the genocide with a person the person you're talking to considers to be a good upright moral citizen.

I don't know. At dinner tonight I was talking to the spousal person about this and about how lately I'm trusting myself more and feeling less shame about takes I see online and realizing that lots of people on the internet are just some guy talking random shit, and he laughed and patted me on the head.

#dgpersonal #genocide mention

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liminalpebble · 1 year

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The Refugee: Chapter 14

CW: This chapter contains smut, sex, and dubcon situations. 18+ adult readers only.

The Refugee Masterlist

Lea sat in the bath for a long time. She had only an hour before she had to knock on the door of Loki's private quarters. She irrationally felt as if she might preemptively be able to wash the defilement from her skin by soaking. When she got out and dried off she picked out a simple black silk gown to wear. She was mourning and she didn't care if he knew it.

She also thought the silk might be the gentlest on whatever wounds her skin might endure. As always, she was being practical. In accordance with mourning tradition, she took her treasured necklace and earrings off and let her long brunette hair lay free and flat. She realized that she looked like a specter haunting some other woman's room.

She knocked on his door and he opened it smoothly, gesturing for her to come in. He was dressed, again, to purposefully look less threatening. He wasn't even wearing his usual suit with the layers of leather. He was just a man in a neat green shirt, and black trousers, but he still towered, was still broad-shouldered and seemed to fill up whatever room he inhabited.

He shut the door wordlessly, and stepped in front of her to hold her face in his hands. She flinched a little. She braced herself for the possibility that this would anger him, but he didn't look angry. He looked solicitous; aquamarine eyes shining with earnest attentiveness, in halos of thick black lashes. She wanted to relax and see this as a good sign, but she knew how quickly the tide of his temper could turn, and how well he lies. She tried to remember that a beautiful monster is still a monster, with a mouth and claws, and this one is hungry. She thought of the Asgardian saying, “Where there are wolf's ears, wolf's teeth are near.”

He stroked her face very gently, came close to her and held her waist. It unsettled her how much his movements mirrored Magnus' from mere hours ago. He met her gaze. Those doe eyes full of apprehension still excited him, he had to admit. Some things about himself he could not change, he told himself. Needing to have her was one of those things, he had convinced himself.

“You're trembling.”

“I guess I am.”

“You're afraid?”

“That...and cold.”

“Then let me keep you warm.”

She couldn't stand to talk around it any longer. She pleaded, quietly but emphatically, “Please, Loki. It doesn't have to go this way. Will you be able to live with yourself? Do you really want this?”

“I live with a long history of unforgivable sins, Lenora. At least with this one, I won't be alone anymore. You won't be alone anymore. I'll have the one person who can make me whole claimed as my own.”

“I won't make you whole, Loki. You're just...”

She expected him to lash out but instead he just put a finger to her lips. “Shhhh. I know. I know what you're going to say, and I know it's going to be as impeccably rational and wise as you always are. You're probably right...you often are...but I need you Lea. I need you to be mine. You'll see. It will be glorious. You will be worshiped.”

Unlike him, she wasn't a god and she didn't want to be worshiped. She realized he had begun to dance slowly with her as they had when practicing. He rested his head against hers, his cool thin lips and sharp cheekbones brushing her ear and cheek.

“It will hurt,” she said, almost to herself. Reminding herself to brace for it.

“It will, briefly, but I will please you as you have never known.” He began to hold her shoulders, stroking gently up and down her arms. “I will show you such ecstasy and pleasures,” he assured her, nuzzling his mouth against her ear as he spoke.

“I'm so afraid,” she admitted in a brittle voice. There was no point in lying to him anyway.

“I know. I know you're afraid of me. I've been horrible and I'm so sorry, darling. I know you have dozens of reasons to fear me and hate me. All I can say is that I know I'm not a good man. I do terrible things, but I can do good, generous, wonderful things too when I put my mind and heart into it. You've made me want to do more good than anything else ever has. Tonight I intend to do something beautiful for you. You'll see. I need you to trust me and be brave, sweet little maiden.”

She couldn't help but notice that he said “anything”, not “anyone”.

“How can you ask that of me, Loki? I can't trust, and you can't be trusted. And I'm not brave enough...not strong enough...” she said, looking to the floor to avoid his eyes.

He stopped swaying to once again drag those cold fingers under her chin, making her meet his gaze. “Listen to me, Lenora. You avert your gaze for no one after tonight, not even me. Tonight you become my queen, later, the entire empire's.”

He kissed her slowly, relishing the exquisite taste of her lips. He finally had her. He intended to take his time. He slid his thumb down her jaw, opening her soft mouth to allow his silver tongue to explore. As his kiss blossomed on her lips, she felt her body react with a hot electric ache. She had found him charming and attractive, certainly. She thought it must be impossible for anyone to behold his beauty and charm and not feel a spark of lust, but her spark was quickly becoming a forest fire even though she wished it wouldn't.

He could feel her reactions, her timid confusion, the conflict in her heart as her pulse fluttered like the wings of a moth against a light. The cocktail of her smell and taste was intoxicating: lingering spice and warm floral honey. He wanted more. He grabbed a handful of her hair to gently tug her head to the side, baring her neck to him. He ran his long red tongue slowly up the line of her jugular vein, ravenous and carnivorous. He trailed skillful kisses and gentle sucks on her virgin skin. She was immolating herself as her eyes fluttered closed, lost in his rapture. It felt as good as he said it would, better even. She hated to admit it to herself; how easily she felt herself surrender. He lifted her abruptly and she flinched, not exactly realizing his strength before or expecting to be swept up. He laid her out on her back gently on his large bed, the silk of her dress blending with the silk of his sheets.

“You're absolutely splendid...delicate but resilient, so guarded but so defenseless. A precious little morsel of contradictions,” he purred in his low velvet voice as he joined her among the sheets, stroking her hair and grazing the back of his hand over the curves of her face. “I love you in silk...so soft...just like you, but I know you have iron in your spine. Don't you, my little empress?”

He took her hand in both of his and pressed it to his lips, eyes closed, just taking her in, breathing her in, for a moment. Then she surprised him, and herself, by very sincerely saying, “I'm sorry, Loki, that you feel so much hurt and loneliness...that you were failed and abandoned and rejected so cruelly. You carry so much pain, don't you?”

He froze. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, or the pure compassion in those big dark eyes. In the position she was in, after all the suffering she endured because of him, she was concerned about him, an objectively bad man...a villain, a monster. Her honest words both broke and mended something inside him. He closed his eyes tightly as his hands held hers. He looked almost like a man lost in prayer. When he opened his eyes again, breaking his revery, his voice shook. “I know I don't deserve you or your compassion, especially because I have forced you to this point. But I beg you, Lenora. Let me love you this way. Let me be close to you. Let this villain do something right.”

She was conflicted, but she nodded tentatively knowing she couldn't fight him any longer. “Please, be gentle.”

“You have my word, Lea, though I realize that might mean very little. I'll take such good care of you.”

He dove in to kiss her again, this time with desperation, like a man drowning and she was his only source of air. His hands ran over the silk of her dress, felt the warmth of her body through it. He moaned in a low rumble as he grasped the soft full swell of her breasts, feeling the peaks already stiff through the soft fabric. He felt every minuscule change in her breathing and smiled at the little hitches and shudders and her warmth beneath the fabric. She was enjoying it, but she still trembled. She wrapped her arms around him as if she also was drowning and he was her only raft in the darkness. He kissed her neck, down her collarbone and between her breasts as he slid her garments down to her waist. He lifted his head to take in her form.

“Beautiful,” was all he could gasp before kissing her bare breasts, lapping his tongue in one perfect stroke between them. He tasted her nipples, circling one until it was achingly stiff, then enveloped it in his thin pink lips and began to suck. She gasped and her back arched up to him. He smiled his wolf's smile, still holding her nipple between his teeth. She ran her fingers though that inky hair. She couldn't stop herself from responding now. She had offered herself and she was burning upon the altar of his pleasure. He unwrapped her from her dress and remaining layers as if she were a precious gift, running his eyes and hands over her completely exposed body. He took off his shirt and she was stunned by his strong form; long and lean with sharply carved muscles in the marble of his flesh.

“Touch me,” he commanded, and she obeyed, running her hands carefully over his chest and torso. He felt as cool as marble too. He put his hand over hers and set it over his heart, so she could feel it, almost as if he was trying to remind both of them that he had one, and it beat for her more than for anything or anyone else. He opened her legs to position himself over her, kissing her now hot and blood-flushed lips, pressing their naked skin together. He began to trail his kisses, from mouth, to neck, then making a serpentine path from breasts, to stomach, to very gentle pecks to her thighs. He was giddy with the anticipation of how good she was about to feel, how sweet and innocently surprised she would be at the sensation. He was not disappointed.

He kissed her mound lightly before suddenly running the length of his tongue along her slit. She gasped hard in incredible surprise and a delicious moan escaped her mouth. He felt himself getting achingly hard at the purity of her reactions. She was so bare, so receptive. He had so much power. He was delighted to realize she was already so wet. She would come apart so easily for him. She would crumble like sugar and taste just as sweet. He parted her folds with his clever tongue, exploring every pink, petal-soft, contour inside of her.

“You taste exquisite,” he said, deep and sultry, the breath of his words dancing over her most delicate skin. He noticed she was beginning to timidly pull her legs together as a strange impulse towards modesty, but his large strong hands held her thighs, not allowing her to close them in shyness or shame. He wanted to kneel for her, worship her, make her feel exulted, and a goddess should not feel shame. When he had tasted all the other parts to his satisfaction he began to circle her clit and she twitched sharply, making the most enchanting little sounds. He bit it very lightly between his perfect teeth for a moment, before he held it in his lips and began to suck on her crown jewel of pleasure. Her breath hitched, she was close already. His heart melted at her novice sensitivity. He paused to look up to her. She was completely enchanted, nearly consumed by her delight.

“Don't hold back, my darling empress. Show me...come apart.”

He reached up to hold her breast as he dove back into her, darting his long tongue deep inside her opening. She softly laced her fingers into his hair and stroked his head as he devoured her. She came hard in deep exhales and shudders, and he refused to stop consuming her until every last quake subsided, and he had tasted every drop.

When he was satisfied that her waves had settled, he took one last sweet kiss to enjoy her flavor, and then came up to the bed to curl up with her. He fell even a little more in love with her when he saw her sweet round cheeks and lips flushed a deep pink with her pleasure, hair tousled about her face, eyes still hazy. He carefully stroked the wild hair from her face, and kissed her, sharing her own sweet raspberries and cream flavor with her. To his delight, she now moved closer, stroking his hair out of his face as he had for her, pressing her naked body against him, wrapping her leg around him. She was enchanted by this exquisite supernatural pleasure, and he was pleased and gratified in a way he didn't think possible.

He undid his pants, sliding them off so they could both be completely naked. She was moving her warm little hands in gentle circles around his shoulders, his back, his neck, his chest and belly. It gave him shivering goosebumps. Her generous touches felt like sinking into the warmest bath. She was hypnotized by the beauty of his body. He could tell.

“Touch me,” he commanded again, moving his hand over hers to guide her. Together their hands ran down from his heaving chest, to his stomach, down the trail of soft, dark hair, to touch his thick cock. He guided her hand up and down his length, from thick base to wet, swollen tip. He let out a guttural moan at finally feeling her hand on him. He had imagined her touch like this so many times, and now he was here, really having her. He released her hand, afraid that she might move away without him holding her there, but she continued the motion, sweet and generously affectionate with an undercurrent of nervous uncertainty.

“'Am...am I doing this right? Does it feel good?” she asked.

He gave an amused little laugh and closed his eyes, “It feels like heaven, my sweet little dancer. How nimble you are in every way. Such a quick learner. I have such things to teach you my clever girl.” He let her stroke him only a few minutes before he took her hand from his manhood. That was enough for now. He was so painfully stiff. If she kept going, he wouldn't be able to last long. “Put your arms around me.”

She obeyed easily, draping her arms around his neck, while he kissed her. To her surprise, she felt her hunger scream yet again. He knew exactly where he had her. He slid one long deft finger inside of her, curling it and rubbing gently inside. She was blossoming, dewy, and swollen for him. Her muscles clenched tightly on him as he pressed over sweet spots she didn't realize she had. Her head lolled back, lips parted, dark lashes flickering shut. He added another finger, they both barely fit into her. She was so tight, her maidenhead still blanketing her inside, like untouched snow. The thought drove him to the brink of control and sanity. He had to take her.

He moved to position himself between her legs. Knowing what was coming, her expression of pleasure turned to an anxious one. He leaned over to kiss her and comfort her, whispering in her ear, “It's alright. You're alright. Shhh. Take a deep breath, darling,” he instructed her as she nuzzled into his neck, sweet as a kitten. He was her source of pain and also her only source of comfort in this moment, and she surrendered to the dichotomy. The power of this duality only aroused him more. He ran the tip of his cock gently between her lips, pressing it against her clit in a few small circles to peak her pleasure and open her as much as possible.

And then he pushed into her in one long decisive thrust, and she winced hard, letting out a little yelp of pain and screwing her eyes shut. When she opened them, they were misty, though no tears fell. Feeling her tearing, seeing her pain, aroused him further, but deep down his heart ached for her and longed to coddle her. He just held himself still for moment, letting her adjust to the fullness of him.

“Shhhh. Shhhh. Breathe, darling. You're being suchhhh a good girl,” he purred to her as she whimpered. He began to undulate very gently within her. His voice was heavy, deep and hypnotic. He put his hand on the side of her face, running his thumb over her full silky lips, her cupid's bow. He held himself a bit above her so he could see her face while he took her. He didn't want to miss a single one of her reactions to him. He slid his thumb into her mouth, ran it over her soft little tongue, felt her breath flow over him in and out. He replaced it with the two fingers he had dipped in her wetness.

“Lick...suck on me, darling. Taste how sweet you are.” he commanded and she obliged. She ran her little tongue hesitantly along and around his fingers, while he pulsed gently back and forth inside of her. Trying to focus her away from her pain and into sheer pleasure. He was still the king of manipulation and distraction after all, and it was useful here too. He removed his fingers, wet from her arousal and now from her sweet mouth, and began to swirl gently over her still engorged clit. He saw her transition from fading pain to surprised pleasure.

He smiled down at her saying, “There it is. What a treasure to see you like this.” She opened inside, then her walls clenched and pulsed around him in arousal. He moved harder and faster. “Does it feel good now, my sweet girl?”

She could only nod enthusiastically and gasp, “Yes...Yes”. She wrapped her legs around him feeling the firm round muscles of his ass tap rhythmically against her calves. He leaned down now pressed to her. Closer on top, chest to chest, his arms moved to cradle her head, as if protecting her with his body. She nuzzled into his shoulder, hands clenching and unclenching onto the skin of his back, his hair, his shoulders. He chuckled in amusement and moaned in delight as he felt her teeth bite into his shoulder; not hard, but firmly, instinctively aggressive and aroused. It drove him crazy; that hidden fire surfacing just for him, just a little. She held on for dear life to her greatest safety and her greatest threat, and the knowledge that he was both gave him a persistent thrill. She held onto him like the ledge of a building she was hanging from, far above the ground. He could read her thoughts.

“Don't worry” he panted, “I've got you. Let go with me.”

At his word they both came hard, staying as they were for a few precious moments, riding out the warm aftershocks and wondering if the earth shook with them. After her panting subsided and he let out a few last gasps of her name, he slid out of bed returning with a bowl of warm water and a cloth. She moved in a daze to get up as well.

“No,” he said, kissing her and smiling. “Stay there, my dear.”

He sat on the edge of the bed in all his glorious nudity, swiping two fingertips lightly over her opening, returning with a few drops of her blood on his fingers. She felt a little embarrassed, suddenly aware of that aspect of things, but he only gazed at it with loving fascinating, as if a rare butterfly had just landed on his elegant fingers. He closed his eyes, touching it to his mouth, tasting and savoring the last remnant of her virginity as if it were the sweetest honey.

He opened his eyes and smiled at her lovingly. “This is a precious gift you have bestowed upon me. I will treasure it always. Thank you,” he said in awe.

Then he began to dunk and wring out the soft cloth in the balmy water, and gently cleaned her.

“Loki, I can do that.”

“Shh. I know you can, but I want to. It's my pleasure,” he said continuing to work gently, soothing her now raw skin in deliberate careful strokes. “Let the king be your humble servant tonight. Please.”

Only when he was completely satisfied that she was clean and comfortable again, did he go to clean himself and returned to slide into bed against her. He curled his arm around her waist from behind, kissing her neck and absentmindedly stroking little labyrinths over her body as they nested into each other.

They both were on the verge of sleep when he said, “I love you, Lenora. I really do. More than anyone or anything in the universe. Please don't say anything. Don't say it back if it's true or reject it if it's false. I'm not strong enough to bear either answer for now. I know I'm an evil, jealous, cruel man, so I would understand if you can't love me. Despite the arrogance, truth be told, I can't even love myself most of the time. I'm sure a large part of you hates me, but I need you to know. I love you, regardless...forever.” She said nothing, as he requested, only held his hand to let him know he wasn't alone as they both drifted off to sleep.

(Thank you so much for following this work. You are so deeply appreciated for giving this gift of your time and attention. I hope you’re enjoying it so far. Knus og Kram @gigglingtigger @goblingirlsarah @lokisgoodgirl)

#loki fanfic

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hummingbird-of-light · 11 months

Text

Against All Odds

Part 565

McCoy

Slowly McCoy made his way to the lounge. He very much wanted to follow Scotty and see how Robbie was doing, but he knew the brothers needed the time to themselves. If they wanted him present they would let him know.

Even with the headmaster’s words in his head, he still felt shame as he walked. Everyone could reassure him, but he still knew, if he hadn’t come to the school none of these terrible things would have happened.

He stopped in the doorway of the lounge. Jim was sitting between Uhura and Christine, looking upset. Jim couldn’t have known. No one at the school knew what exactly Robbie had been through.

A thought hit McCoy. If he hadn’t come to the school, Khan would have succeeded in his plan to get Jim sent away. Scotty wouldn’t have seen Khan taking something from the cabin. They would never have had anything to take to Pike. No suspicions or confessions. How would that have changed events? Would Khan still have gone to the Romulans? Would there even be that need?

“Just Leonard!”

Jaylah’s voice broke McCoy from his thoughts. He looked up and saw her coming towards him.

“Jaylah.”

The alien girl grabbed his arm and drew him into the room towards the others. He took a seat next to Christine.

“How is Robbie?” Uhura asked. “What happened?”

McCoy sighed. He gave a look around the room. Their circle was sitting a bit apart from anyone else.

“I think he had a panic attack about what happened,” McCoy answered quietly.

“What did happen to him?” Sulu asked. “If you can tell us.”

McCoy took a deep breath. Robbie had seen terrible things in his short time being kidnapped. McCoy and Scotty’s ordeal had been longer, but the violence Robbie had been witness to… It sent a shiver down McCoy’s spine.

“He saw things none of us should have to see,” he said quietly. “Deaths. Violently in front of him. And then on top of that, Khan cuffed Robbie to him.”

Jim’s face darkened. “I wish I could get my hands on Khan.”

McCoy knew exactly what Jim felt. He had felt it just the same from the moment Khan had revealed his true nature in the cabin. Yet he couldn’t help but see the trauma and helplessness in Khan’s eyes as Robbie convinced him to give up. He heard the evil in Dr. Spender’s voice once more.

“Jim…”

Everyone turned to look at McCoy again.

“I’m right there with ya, but,” McCoy took another deep breath.

“But what Bones? He’s a monster!” Jim’s eyes lit with fire.

“He- he isn’t.” Stars above, the words were hard to say. “He’s done some horrible things, but he’s just a kid like us. A few years older, but still young. The things that were done to him and the other augments…” McCoy looked around the group. “They’d turn even the best of us into something twisted. You didn’t hear the head scientist. He had no remorse.” McCoy dropped his head and shook it.

He felt a hand rub his shoulder. He knew it belonged to Christine and he gave her a grateful smile as he looked back up.

“Khan did terrible things. Be angry at him. I am. Just remember terrible things were done to him too. That made him do what he did.”

Everyone looked around at each other. McCoy could still see their anger at the augment leader, but he could see them taking in what he had said as well.

“I need to check on him.”

McCoy and Scotty were heading for their room. Curfew would be called soon.

“Do you want me to wait?” McCoy gestured towards their door.

“No, ye can come. It’s fine.” Scotty squeezed McCoy’s hand and they continued up the hall.

A door opened ahead of them and a surprising sight stepped out. McCoy had to clamp his mouth tight to prevent a laugh escaping.

“Wee man? What’re ye doing?”

Keenser stood in front of them wearing pajamas and slippers. The sight was so unexpected. The small alien pointed towards Robbie’s door.

“Stay.”

“What? Ye- what? Really?” Scotty’s eyes had opened wide in surprise.

Keenser nodded firmly.

“Keenser- ye- ye’re the best. Thank ye!”

“I’ll go get us ready,” McCoy said, letting go of Scotty’s hand.

“I’ll be just a few minutes,” Scotty said over his shoulder as he continued with Keenser.

McCoy entered their room a moment later and finally let out the laugh he was holding back. Where the hell had Keenser gotten pink bunny slippers?

Part 566

Scotty

They quietly sneaked into Robbie's room and found the boy still asleep. It was a big relief to Scotty to know that someone would stay with his brother for the night. And that someone being Keenser was an even bigger relief.

The Roylan sat down on the bed which had belonged to Scotty once and just blinked.

Scotty himself knelt down beside Robbie's bed and ran a hand through his brother's hair. It looked like he was having a restless sleep.

"Keenser will take care of ye, laddie," he whispered and Robbie's face seemed to relax instantly.

"And I will be close, too."

They'd... just be a few rooms apart. No big deal.

Scotty swallowed hardly, remembering Robbie's breakdown. What if he'd have really bad nightmares?

The older Scott brother sat there for a while when suddenly the door opened.

Scotty was startled when he saw Archer. Was it really curfew already?

"Sir, I..." he started to apologize, but the man just shook his head.

"Make sure to be quiet when you return to your room, Mr. Scott."

Scotty blinked in surprise. Was that really Archer talking there? Months ago he would have been the first one to suspend the scholarship students if they made the slightest mistake... and now? Now he looked more worried then angry.

"A-aye. Thanks, Sir."

The door was closed again and Scotty looked over at Keenser.

The wee alien was lying in bed already. Apparently he had asked Archer or Pike earlier if he could stay at Robbie's room.

"I... thanks again, laddie."

The Scotsman got a nod for response.

"Can leave," Keenser reassured him and Scotty looked at Robbie one last time, before he got up.

"Good night."

"Night."

With a heavy heart, Scotty left the room and his brother behind.

"How is he doing?"

It was the first thing Leonard asked when Scotty got into their room. He was lying in their bed, dressed in his pajamas.

"He's asleep. I... just hope his night will be calm."

Scotty still had nightmares sometimes... he didn't even want to imagine what it looked like in his brother's mind. What images he must see...

"It's after curfew. Didn't Archer check Robbie's room?" McCoy furrowed his brows as he glanced at the clock.

"Oh, aye, he did check it. But... he was okay with it, just told me to head here quietly."

Leonard nodded, looking only slightly surprised.

"He really changed, didn't he?"

Scotty nodded as he changed his clothes and lay down beside his fiancé.

"All thanks to ye."

If it hadn't been for Leonard, the head of the boy's dorm would still hold a grudge against the Scott brothers.

Slowly, the expression on Leonard's face changed. He looked almost... sad.

"What? What is it, mo ghràdh?"

Gently, Scotty ran a hand through his love's hair.

"I... it's nothing."

But it wasn't nothing. Scotty knew his fiancé well enough. He could tell when he was lying.

"Len."

Leonard's eyes met his and eventually the prince sighed.

"It's my fault. Without me... you wouldn't have been kidnapped. Neither would Robbie have been through these horrors."

Scotty blinked in shock. Did Leonard really think that? Did he really think that it was his fault?

"Oh, Len... it's not yer fault."

"Without me... Khan wouldn't have done all of this."

It broke Scotty's heart to see Leonard like that. And to hear him say these things.

"Without ye... he probably would have done even worse things. Ye were... his best option. If he wouldn't have had the opportunity to blackmail people... who knew what had happened? Maybe... he'd have killed us all."

Leonard didn't say anything. So Scotty placed a hand on his cheek and looked him deeply in the eyes.

"And if I had never met ye... I'd be the unhappiest person in the whole wide universe. So... don't blame yerself."

#star trek #montgomery scott #leonard mccoy #scones #au #against all odds

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thenanbakacorner · 2 years

Note

Hey there! I love your pregnancy/childbirth content with cell 13! Can I get something about Elf sneaking into the nursery and taking one of the babies please? If you're uncomfortable, you can just ignore!

Ooooh shiteee the ANGST! Knowing Elf he would totally sneak into a nursery to kidnap a baby to use as a specimen, wouldn’t he? (ΟΔΟ; )

I decided to do this as a third person scenario with just Jyugo and his wife (Who can be seen as the reader of course if desired), since I can mostly see Elf going for his kids since Jyugo is such a prized specimen to him, but feel free to ask for the other boys if you want a scenario or headcanons for them too!

CW // Kidnapping

* * *

🔓 Jyugo and Wife’s Baby Kidnapped by Elf Scenario 🔓

It’s just another calm, peaceful evening. The sun has long since set, and Jyugo and his wife were getting ready to hit the sack for the night. But before that, Jyugo opted to go and check on their little six week old baby, making sure they were alright and didn’t need any care before they slept.

Even now, Jyugo still couldn’t believe that he was a father. The concept was once so foreign to him, something he didn’t think he could ever properly pull off. Not to mention, he never expected to have a girlfriend let alone get married. And yet, here he was.. married with a wife and a baby.

He couldn’t help but smile to himself as he walked down the hallway. He had to admit, being a parent was difficult at times, but he wouldn’t trade the happiness and fulfilling feelings that came with it- especially what it was like holding said child for the first time- for the world itself.

However, these calm, contented emotions were interrupted.

Majorly interrupted.

When Jyugo opened the door and looked towards the crib, his eyes were quickly darting to the window instead when he noticed a terribly familiar person leaning out it, who turned back to look at Jyugo with a wide grin and a wicked look in his emerald green eyes.

“Elf—“

The name that Jyugo despised so much was all that he could breathe out, suddenly feeling like the wind got knocked out of him from the sight of that person, that.. thing, holding his sleeping baby.

“Jyugo! Long time no see.~”

Elf greeted in his mockingly sing-song tone, leaning back a bit. He seemed to have been in the process of jumping out the window, but was unexpectedly walked in on by the ex-inmate. Although, it didn’t seem he cared at all. Instead, he seemed.. excited.

“Hope you don’t mind, but I’m just gonna.. borrow this.~”

Jyugo saw red. Borrow.. his baby?! Why? He knew only one logical answer.. this sick bastard was most definitely taking them to use as either blackmail against him, or to use as a new specimen! A six week old baby, at that!!

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF MY BABY!!”

Jyugo screeched in a rage, lurching forward to charge at the intruder with his blades activating. However, Elf just cackled and leapt out of the window before he could move too close, and by the time Jyugo reached the window and slashed at where Elf had been- leaving a deep cut in the wood of the windowsill- he looked down, and..

He was gone. Vanished. As if he never jumped out the window to begin with.

Jyugo frantically looked around, hoping that by some miracle he could spot Elf running in one direction or another up the road. But he was nowhere to be found.

Curse that monster and those little skills of his..!

The adrenaline and pure, paternal panic setting in, his hands turned back to normal and he faltered backwards, a hand grabbing the crib behind him to steady himself. A hand flew to his head as his breathing picked up, and after a few seconds, his other hand also grabbed his hair, pulling at it slightly as he began to straight up hyperventilate, tears coming to his eyes.

“No.. no, no, no, please no..!”

He wheezed out, his breathing ragged, rapid and choked as he tried to convince himself that he was just dreaming. It was just a nightmare, just a horrible, horrible nightmare.. wake up.. wake up, damnit, wake up!!

.. but he never did. He already was awake. This was real. As real as could be.

His eyes screwed shut and he fell to the floor, lurching forward to where his elbows were on the floor as his hands remained clutched to his head, grabbing his hair so tightly that it started to painfully tug- not that he registered that pain among the pain of what had just occurred.

“FUCK!!”

He practically screamed, breaking into sobs. His baby.. his baby was gone. Kidnapped by the last person Jyugo ever wanted anything to do with. And knowing what he and the Man with the Scar had done to him.. what’s gonna happen to them..?

He heard rapid approaching footsteps, and turned around just in time to see his wife appear at the door, a panicked look on her face.

“Jyugo?! Wha- what’s going on, what happened?!”

She cried out, running to the crib, only to find it empty. She exclaimed and started to to mumble out frightened ”what”s and other confused words, and Jyugo then choked on a sob.

“It— it was him, that bastard, he— he took them..!”

Jyugo managed to choke out, nails digging into his scalp likely hard enough to draw blood under his hair. Now it was his wife’s turn to panic, knowing all too well of this ”him” that her husband spoke of, and she turned around to get down beside Jyugo, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him to sit up and face her, tears in her own eyes.

“Jyugo, we— we need to do something! We have to go find him!! Who knows what kind of sick, twisted shit he’ll do to our baby!!”

She exclaimed, shaking him slightly as she spoke. Jyugo choked again and brought a hand up to wipe his tears with his wrist, wheezing out a breath before speaking.

“I— I don’t— I know know where he went!!”

He cried back,

“He could be anywhere!! You know how he is, he’s not human! Who knows where he could’ve teleported to!!”

Jyugo’s wife sniffed back a sob before it could break out, and she gripped his shoulders tighter, furrowing her brows as she looked at Jyugo more sternly.

“Well we can’t just sit here and do nothing!! If we don’t try, our baby could die, Jyugo!!”

Jyugo’s head craned forward and he let out a pitiful whine of a sob at the implication. He couldn’t bare to think of such an outcome.. their baby has only lived for six weeks, and they’re already at the risk of death?!

”I know you’re scared— I’m scared too! But we have to try! Elf’s a stubborn, malicious piece of shit, but I’m sure we can think of something to get his attention and find out where he’s run off to!”

Finally, Jyugo found the strength to nod in reply with another whimper. She was right. They had to try. If they didn’t and they just sat by and did nothing, they’d likely never see their little one again. Ever.

After a short while longer of trying to get themselves together, the two finally stood up and left the nursery. Neither knew where to begin.. but they had to start somewhere. And they had to start soon.

#cw kidnapping #nanbaka #scenarios #nanbaka scenarios #nanbaka imagines #nanbaka jyugo x reader #jyugo #jyugo nanbaka #nanbaka jyugo #jyugo x reader #jyugo nanbaka x reader #Canarical Nanbaka

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luverofralts · 1 year

Text

Arkhelios University

“Urgh.”

Roman’s head was pounding. Fortunately, Luciana was currently demanding a story from Abe before bed, so Roman’s headache went unnoticed by his overly protective husband. Even standing took every bit of strength he had, but he was determined to fight his body. It didn’t matter if he was tired or in pain, his mother was free and on the run. She could appear out of any shadow or around any corner and he had to be ready to face her. He could probably rest that night, but how long would she stay away? Would she be back next week? Next month? Five years from now?

The uncertainty was the main reason Roman had decided to do everything in his power to kill his mother. He could never relax or enjoy expecting a child or feel safe sending his kids to school without looking over his shoulder for the monster that haunted him. Abe’s trust in the demon sovereign was misplaced. Abe didn’t know any better, but Roman had seen for himself how dispassionate she was when they asked for help. He knew what her daughter had been like in school and how insensitive the demonologists had been when interviewing him about his mother. The sovereign didn’t care aside from her own private goals whatever they might be. His own mother didn’t care about him or all the ways she’d destroyed his life since he was a teen. Roman was on his own, but he could manage. If he could just accomplish his goal of ridding himself of his mother’s threat, the rest of his life would probably be uneventful and quiet. Abe would understand.

He had no clues of where to find his mother or any idea of how she could be defeated, so Roman resigned himself to attempting to sleep for the night. There was no way sleep would ever come to him now though. The night would be spent like every other night since he’d come home from the hospital: Abe snoring while Roman stared at the ceiling, wishing he knew what to do. He returned his grandmother’s book to its place in his office and sighed with frustration.

Why didn’t he know what to do? Why didn’t he have the same instinct for killing that his mother clearly had? The way his mother looked at him sometimes chilled Roman’s blood. It was the same way that she had looked at his father: disappointed and annoyed that he was breathing the same air as she was.

Dad....

Another terrible thought came to Roman in that moment. His mother loathed his father. He honestly didn’t know how she’d survived being married to him as long as she had. Omar had been a joke to Kamalani. Maybe it was true that she kept the Bellamy last name because she had none from her own father or maybe it was a reminder of her long standing relationship with the greater Bellamy family. It certainly wasn’t out of a fondness for Roman or Omar. Omar was an embarrassment that Kamalani tried her best to distance herself from at all costs. And now his father was dead. Murdered. Melvin wasn’t personally convinced that Kamalani was behind the attack and why would he be? The murderer had been short, closer to the height of a child than the grown woman Kamalani was. It was why people had cruelly pointed their fingers at Theo for the murder. Surely the scary child with no motive was to blame, or so it was widely thought.

But Kamalani was still listed as the murderer because it was easy. It was a clean resolution of the case that required no further action. You couldn’t charge someone locked away in a void after all. The case was simply closed. Roman had furiously refuted the official verdict, but the more he thought about it, the more his brain found itself connecting pieces.

Wasn’t his mother using her children to plan her escape? Wasn’t Keiki, a child around Theo’s size, just lying on the floor of the same cavern he was abandoned in? What if....

The thought was horrible, far worse than anything Roman had considered earlier. Did his mother possess her young child to murder her ex-husband in cold blood? How on earth did that help her situation in any way?

Roman’s feelings about his father were just as hostile as his feelings about his mother. The absence of his father was certainly felt by his uncles, and Omar’s young children. There was an empty space in Roman’s heart whether he’d ever admit to it or not. There was something comforting knowing that he had at least one of his parents in his life, even if they were completely hopeless. He wasn’t close to Omar at all, but still his absence gnawed at Roman. Maybe they would have patched up their relationship given time. Maybe his dad would have changed and been the kind of grandfather Theo and the girls deserved. Luciana and Adrienne had no second father or living grandparents because of Kamalani. Omar could have potentially filled that void, but he was never given the chance.

There was now absolutely no way that Roman was going to sleep at all that night. He had to think this thought through. He had to remember all the time he had lost due to his mother to see if his theory was possible. If she could control Keiki to commit murder, then what had Kamalani made him do as a teen? Had he killed someone for her?

But how did he force those memories to surface? He’d tried before, but nothing had worked. Whatever had happened to him, whatever he’d done, his brain was shielding him from it.

Another idea came to him. Maybe it was just his brain protecting him. Maybe he didn’t remember because he’d never wanted to consciously remember what happened. If he somehow let down his guard and revisited what he knew, he’d have an answer to his questions.

Upstairs, he could hear Abe finishing a story and a tap upstairs running. Abe wouldn’t be down anytime soon if he was fetching toddlers glasses of water. He wouldn’t know if Roman just popped out for a minute to walk in the cool night air. There wasn’t any harm if Roman just took a quiet walk to settle his thoughts. Abe would chase after him with pain medication and canes and bandages if he knew, but he already did that while Roman was at home on the couch.

Abe checked his teeth in the mirror upstairs after Luciana finally quieted down for the night. Her sister was sleeping soundly and Theo’s television could be heard from down the hall. Abe was really getting the hang of having three children, so he wasn’t too concerned about the impending arrival of child number four. He’d figure that out no problem.

It was Roman who he had to keep an eye on. Now that he seemed fixed on murdering a woman full demons struggled to contain, Abe had to protect him from himself. Maybe if he brushed his teeth and put on some special cologne, he could gently redirect Roman’s energy to something more...pleasurable than plotting murder.

He was so fixated on his worry that he completely missed the fact that he wasn’t alone anymore in that bathroom.

#sims 2 #arkhelios #arkhelios university #abe chun #Roman Bellamy #Malika Bellamy

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changenbirthenstein · 9 months

Text

Crimes of the Father

(Content Warning: Transformation of Girl into Dragon, Pregnancy and Birth, Egg Laying)

It was unbearably warm this evening.

At least that was how it felt to the princess sat upon her bed, simply waiting for what she knew would inevitably, shamefully come. The room was dark, and thankfully nobody was near. At least, not insofar as the royal knew.

A shiver ran down the teenage girl’s spine, carrying with it an unnatural energy, looking to take root and unleash its terrible designs. It was time, or it would be soon… Once more, the young woman’s mind flung back through the years, to when she was kidnapped by dragons as a child.

The kingdom knew part of the legends. The scaled monsters snatching the young girl from upon her horse as she rode, the guards unable to react before they were leagues away. But all was resolved quickly enough, a brave troupe of monster hunters had stormed in, slain the beasts that had sntched her from the safety of her family and drug her away into some dank, frightening cave to do who-knows what..

The truth, however, hidden away from the kingdom at large, was that the bold knights had been far too late. There was a very specific reason why they’d kidnapped the young heir to the throne, a wrong that they sought to right, no matter what it took.

The king was a terrible man, driven by rage and spite, with a lust for blood and power. The most important thing to him was that all around recognize how mighty he claimed to be, and thus set about collecting the most impressive trophies of all. The madman had been hunting down the noble tribe of intelligent, normally peaceful scaled beasts that neighbored them. The two societies had always had a mutually beneficial agreement, the dragons offering to protect the kingdom as long as nobody bothered them.

Without warning or reason, the king had shattered this peace, hunting the dragons relentlessly, driving them to the brink of extinction. The young blonde girl that was his daughter had always been fascinated with the beasts her father hated so very much, not understanding why he would seek to hunt down and slay such beautiful, fascinating creatures. A wise wyrm saw that, one of the elders of the tribe, and was trying to reach out, to bridge the gap between races. Maybe if he could convince the young daughter that they were not a threat, show her they meant no harm, maybe then the mad king would listen.

It was not to be. When the hunters barged in, brandishing weapons crafted from his kinsfolk, the elder, and his allies, knew there would be no escape, and no victory. So they began a terrible ritual, the one the dragons forbade in all but the most dire of circumstances for it was the cruelest thing they could do to a human, let alone a mere child.

It was hardly a battle. So much attention was focused on the princess that it was easy for the hunters to slaughter every last one of the peace-seeking beasts. So enraptured by the massacre were they, that no attention was given to the surging energies, the glowing runes, the small girl laid on an altar, whimpering, feeling something happening to her, something horribly wrong…

Now that child had grown to the age of eighteen. Once more, as she had been driven to do so often before, she’d isolated herself from everyone. The princess, named Arys, was in the cottage outside of the castle that her father begrudgingly let her visit. The foolish man was so invested in the endless wars and battles he relentlessly pursued in a vain effort to prove his masculine might, that never once did he notice his daughters suspicious behavior. The sudden, almost desperate urge to leave the castle, to leave his sight once a month, at almost the same time. Arys had no doubt that, should the condition that had been inflicted on her ever be discovered, not even she would find mercy.

A small gasp escaped the princess as another jolt of energy coursed through her, a heat beginning to coalesce within her belly. She rubbed her midriff, already feeling it begin. Anxiety mounted, as a faint, nagging fullness began to mount, already knowing everything that was to come next.

And yet, the light-haired teenager couldn’t help but smile despite herself. It was always intense, a little difficult… but the magically altered woman could pass no blame to the creatures that had done this. Arys really had always admired the dragons, found them to be beautiful, wise, wonderful things. Really, if anything, she just viewed it as repaying the debt her father had incurred. It may be unfair she was the one made to pay the price, but… well, SOMEBODY had to fix what had been done, and if it meant she had to shoulder this burden, then so be it.

A small, pleased moan escaped from the blonde royal, feeling her formerly flat belly begin to push forward, bulging into a noticeable bump beneath her palm… When this had first happened, it had been terrifying. The barely-pubecent girl had been discovered by a servant, and the kindhearted worker helped her deliver the egg that had suddenly grown within the cursed victim when her monthly would normally occur.

That same common girl had become a close friend, helping time and again with that first year, to hide the dragon eggs the strange princess kept laying, keeping her quiet as possible during the painful, difficult labor. Finally, she had managed to get this cottage built in secret, to give the princess somewhere to secret away to whenever the cramps and bloating that indicated the cursed royal was beginning to gestate another dragon within her started.

And, of course, once she actually entered puberty… to hide some of the other things that began to appear…

Smiling, remembering she was alone, and that the dress hiding her body wouldn’t survive the rapid pregnancy, the beautiful young woman pulled her clothing off, tossing it onto the floor, letting the moon shine upon the bared form of the only heir to the kingdom.

Once Arys had fully entered puberty, she had at first been pleased by the changes to her body. Her widening hips made the curse easier to bear, and the developing breasts no doubt made the teenager more attractive. However, within a few months after the royal chest began to blossom, things started to change for the worse. Her servant friend noticed it, as they had pulled down her underwear once her waters broke.

The blonde teen had been complaining of an unending ache from down low, right around the base of her spine, as through something was pushing forward constantly. As her bottom was bared and dress pulled off of the young girl, she began to push alongside the contraction she was feeling. The servant girl watched in shock and horror as the tiny nub of a tail began to push out, her friend screaming in pain. By the time the latest egg was successfully laid, it was barely poking out above her cute butt, a tiny, adorable, painfully sensitive nub.

This observation was distressing, to say the very least.

The changes had continued to assert themselves over her body, bit by terrible bit, every egg laid seemingly hastening the slow, painful changes. Yet, for as agonizing and terrifying as they were in the moment, Arys loved them. Every time the cursed teenager secretly examined herself later, once the latest of her inhuman children was safely stowed away, eagerly looking at what had changed, and by how much.

Now, the slowly swelling girl pulled down her silk panties, letting out a contented sigh of relief as the cramped, crumpled tail she’d kept hidden for the last month straight was freed from its soft prison, hanging down just past her thighs before the muscles inside held it slightly aloft. Stretching, eyeing the reflection in a mirror the increasingly gravid princess had set up some time ago, Arys looked at how far the changes to her body had come since so very long ago.

Wings extended from the magically impregnated girl’s shoulder blades. They had sprouted earlier this year, the sensation of it had been breathtakingly awful. Bearing down on the latest egg, on all fours, sobbing and screaming as her skin gave way, the bones bursting free before the wounds quickly healed, adding muscles and flesh to the new appendages, all while her latest draconic offspring crowned…

Arys’ wings had grown beautifully since then, soon it would be difficult, indeed almost impossible to hide them under her dress. But for now, the blonde eighteen year old sighed contently, rubbing her belly and finally opening the semi-transparent, light-blue wings wide whilst she arched her back, letting her whole body stretch wide before the new limbs folded, though much more loosely than before, against either side of her spine. At first it had been strange, having to remember to fold her wings, just as the movements of the new tail had been confusing and upsetting. But now… it was practically second nature. Like it was less the curse corrupting her body and more like…

No. As much as she may enjoy some of the changes, the princess had a kingdom to rule. She was human, and needed to remember that, someday, she needed to find a cure for this.

The princess let an eyebrow raise, noticing that the small, strong, deep blue scales had continued their seemingly relentless spreading. They’d begun to pebble the skin around the wing bases and around the point her tail joined the rest of the skin over the last few months, but as egg after egg had slipped from the royal maiden’s body, the beautiful scales had spread further over her back, around her hips slightly, even along the curve of her firm, formerly smooth buttocks.

Arys reached down and ran a finger over the scales on her butt, delighting in the hard, smooth bumps, the changes that had been becoming harder to hide. Over the years, the princess and best friend had done research, trying to figure out what had happened. At first to reverse it, but gradually just to know what to expect. Over time, Arys would become a sort of dragon girl, never fully of the noble species, but having most of the incredible race’s traits. Including elemental breath, immortality, unnatural strength, even the ability to fly.

The princess found herself growing eager to see the next set of changes, to see what this new, inhuman version of herself would be. What should have been an inevitable nightmare had become her desperate, secret dream, one she denied to all, even herself. But it was hard not to imagine the night she’d finally push out one final child, the last changes consuming her or becoming too much to hide, spreading the beautiful wings gracing the cursed girl’s back and flying off into the night sky, bringing her best friend with her…

Blinking and forcing herself to turn away from those thoughts, Arys watched as her belly button slowly poked out, the baby within her belly starting to shift and kick, beginning to feel heavy. “Soon, little one…” the mother-to-be cooed, rubbing the hot, tight flesh of her womb. For some time, the offspring she bore had been eggs. By the time the enchanted girl had turned fifteen, the nature of her labor changed suddenly.

What had almost become normal, average, just like any other pregnancy suddenly become far more painful and terrifying as the young teen struggled to instead give live birth to a baby dragon. Years later, after having delivered so many of them, she found herself preferring it to the eggs. It was harder, yes, more painful. But in the end she could greet the child as soon as it emerged, name it, and help it learn how to live for the week it took to mature, instead of taking that week to hatch the egg and then leaving it to her friend to raise it.

Sitting on the bed and rubbing her orb of motherhood, the fertile princess couldn’t help but chuckle to herself. She was still doing it… calling Chelsie her “friend”… This last year, it’s definitely been “lover”… The servant had confessed her feelings to the then seventeen year old as Arys had been showing off the changes to her body. She was surprised, unsure how to react… but once the two kissed, they simply did what came naturally, what felt right…

It had been risky. With the changes to the slowly transforming girl’s body, being discovered wouldn’t just be a scandal. It would be grounds for execution, likely for both of them. And they’d shown poor restraint, almost being caught in the act on more than one occasion. But their embraces were just so passionate, so intense…

Neither could stop. Neither wanted to. More often than not their fondling of each others bodies would only cease with the two teenage lovers holding one another close, panting, dripping with sweat and their sexual juices, each having made the other cum multiple times.

Chel would be here tomorrow, to meet the latest draconic offspring, and Arys had decided to ask her then. To stay with her, leave with her. The pair could even find the ritual the elder dragons had performed, “curse” her oldest friend with this blessing in disguise. They could live outside of this kingdom, defend the rest of the dragons from her terrible father…

Arys’ gravid mound was hanging low, and the teenager let out a gasp as her womb spasmed, her first breathtaking contraction of many. The pregnant girl got up, her long blue tail swaying back and forth as her bare, soft feet padded on the wood floor of the cabin, pacing slowly, restlessly, waddling to try to ease the discomfort of the quickly progressing labor.

The time for planning and remembering was over, for now. At the moment, the urge to birth was beginning to mount, a slow, steady pulse throbbing through the princess’ body.

Gradually, the labor pains became stronger, shorter waits between them, far faster than a normal delivery. It meant the process hurt more, caused pressure to build to overwhelming levels inside quickly, but the speed was appreciated. The sensation of the inhuman baby contained within the pained girl’s womb slipping ever lower between her hips, head shoving against her quickly ripening cervix became more potent by the second, like an entire boulder had grown inside.

Arys let out a low, quavering moan, leaning against a wall and opening her legs slightly, as a potent contraction squeezed her middle mercilessly. She felt a faint pop come from within, the feeling of her waters breaking was intense, pleasurable, the heinous pressure easing. Even if only for a moment, the rest was still welcome. Amniotic fluid came flowing out of the teenage mother’s feminine tunnel, running down her thighs, the soon-to-be-mother whimpering as her waters were almost painfully warm, the birthing juices sizzling softly once they hit the ground.

Long ago, the fluid would scald the soft, tender skin of the dragon mother’s sensitive thighs, but as she changed, even the non-scaled flesh had become mercifully heat resistant.

But the relief was short lived. No matter how many children she had, Arys could tell it would never stop being an ordeal. She would remain the size of a human woman her whole life, but dragons were large, solid, and stretched her womanhood to it’s limit consistently, her delicate opening tearing badly the rule rather than the exception.

Now, the need to bear down, to push the draconic offspring from her swollen, firm belly pulsed through every fiber of the princess’ body. Resistance was impossible, Arys was too far away from the bed to lay upon it for delivery. The teenage girl simply let her legs continue to open wider, gravity helping as she began pushing hard, harsh, growling grunts filling the air as she felt the wide snout of her child part the firm barrier holding it back, entering the straining tunnel that was her soft, sensitive birth canal.

The sharp, scaled head of the baby began to slide down once more, the princess slowly sliding down the wall, landing on her knees before flipping herself awkwardly around, bracing her back against the wall. Her legs parted as far as possible, trying to make room for her inhuman offspring as Arys once more bore down, tail thrashing, wings opened wide, her toes curling and slim, delicate hands curling into fists. The little dragon always came down her aching, throbbing girlhood quickly, but it was always the crowning that was tricky, always the most intense, painful part.

One more good push and the laboring girl could feel the flesh surrounding her delicate sex bulging out, the pressure of her sweet baby pressing against her nethers from within changing the shape of her loins. Blinking sweat and tears from her eyes, the mother to be looked up, realizing she could see her reflection in the mirror. A pained whimper escaped the teen mother’s lips as she pushed hard, but she couldn’t deny the surge of gratifying lust she felt as the glistening, wet opening pressed forward bit by bit, only to finally, at last, begin to part.

In her reflection, Arys saw the scales of her child, a dark, beautiful emerald green peeking out from within her straining, delicate folds., glistening with the juices from her sex. The laboring teenager found herself wishing Chel was here, seeing this, massaging her tender, aching lips, maybe even with her tongue… Perhaps next time she would invite her to the labor, make the process less about being isolated from everyone else due to her differences and more what she loves about them...

But for now, Arys was alone, her lover unable to escape the chores that had to be done, and the need to birth ripped through the cursed, straining girl once more. The pregnant princess couldn’t hold back any longer, letting out a pained scream as she pushed with desperation, watching eagerly as her new baby dragon slipped further from the trembling, wet tunnel between her legs. Even as the pain of delivery wracked the poor girl, Arys couldn’t help but love what the mirror showed her, slipping a hand past the swollen, spasming orb of her pregnancy, caressing the aching, sensitive, straining lips of her sex. The winged teenager moaned in more than pain as her reptilian offspring continued to stretch her wider by the moment.

The snout of the inhuman baby was now protruding firmly, one more push would likely send the head gushing into the world. The teenage mother tried to relax, rest while she could, but the next contraction came fast. The urge to bear down would not be denied. Another scream tore from Arys’ throat, as her tortured girlhood strained and slipped over her baby’s head, before one final grunt of effort caused a powerful surge of motion, the widest point finally crowning. Trembling, frozen for a moment in the face of the searing, semi-sexual sensation of delivering a child, the princess began to feel something was… off. Very faintly.

Then, alongside another squeezing labor pain, the it slipped free in a rush. There was a hot gush of fluids, and the head, followed by most of the long neck, slid out of the princess’ aching, burning sex as she screamed, half in agony, half in near-orgasmic pleasure from the sudden motion within her.

Panting, overwhelmed, Arys stroked her infant’s green, scaly neck. “A few more… just a bit more, baby… don’t worry…” There was a small reprieve, the sweat drenched dragon mommy had a little time to recover, to gulp in sweet, cool air, even with her offspring dangling partially out of her body, glistening with her feminine juices.

It didn’t last long, however. The need to push returned in full force, and Arys let out a cry of pain, giving into her body’s need to give this creature birth. She rubbed the tight skin of her sex, feeling how hot the flesh was, how thin it was getting… She tried to carefully, gradually stretch it, massage her opening, try to keep it supple enough to part as wide as it needed to. But the eighteen year old mother let out a sob as she realized what was going to happen, that she couldn’t stop it. She’d planned for it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to hurt, that she didn’t hate the sensation of her most sensitive area being violently torn open.

The shoulders were so big… stretching her girlhood impossibly wide… too wide! But she had to push, had to birth, there was no more slowing or resisting it. The crying girl watched as it turned pale, then almost transparent…

Arys let out a bloodcurdling scream as, with one last push, the skin tore beneath her fingertips. It wasn’t insignificant… but it wasn’t bad. Not nearly as bad as it had been the first few times, tearing her so badly that it seemed her girlhood would merge with her anus. Hot blood ran from the wound, but the damage had given her enough room to finally, mercifully deliver the dragon that had gestated inside.

The scream of pain turned into a deep, low, lusty moan, eyes rolling back, legs lifting off the floor and toes curling as the rest of the scaled beast slipped out in a rapid, hot, wet rush of motion and sizzling hot birthing fluid. The sudden surge of motion and raw sensation triggered something beautiful within the birthing girl, and as her newborn dragon slid from her damaged tunnel, a fierce orgasm gripped her, pleasure radiating out from her middle, echoing through her limbs, burning the pain from her body, her skin feeling like it was boiling with the raw sensation coursing through her body.

For a brief time, pleasure was pain, pain was pleasure. The heat cooled her, and anything cold scorched her wonderfully. Her ears, hands and feet hurt, her eyes bulged out of her head as pleasure overwhelmed every nerve before retreating. Sounds shifted and warped as she felt her ears strain and stretch, aching with some unseen force pulling at them. It was torture yet bliss, sex and birth, beginning and end.

Then, Arys settled into the afterglow. These was no afterbirth to deal with, no cord to cut. The teenage girl crawled to the bedside table where she had left the salve Chel normally applied to her torn feminine parts. It really was a miracle ointment, stitching the skin together with hardly any signs of what happened. As she applied it, the mother of the newborn dragon moved tenderly back over to her scaled progeny, leaning once more against the wall, letting it rest on her chest.

The newborn dragon gazed at its mother, before nipping at the soft flesh of her breast, suckling eagerly. As always, basking in the warm glow of motherhood and peacefully stroking her newborn while letting the ointment do it’s work between her legs, Arys found her eyes wandering.

When they settled on the mirror, those eyes went wide, staring into themselves in shock. They had once been blue, the same shade of her scales. Now, they were a deep, almost molten orange, with slitted pupils, just like that of her child. Carefully shifting to examine herself, the increasingly worried teenager apparently had greatly accelerated her transformation during her orgasmic delivery. Carefully, Arys raised a hand to her ears, finding them large, almost crest-like webs surrounding a small hole… the scales now completely covered her back and butt, wrapping around her hips, partially covering her breasts, and her wings were larger, more powerful, but most alarmingly, obvious. Even folded, the tips would peak above the neckline of any dress, making a massive bulge on her back.

The teenager was frightened. There was no way she could hide this… Even her fingernails and toenails were longer, sharper, darker, There was no way even her foolish father wouldn’t notice she was only partly human, that she was becoming a monster...

The door to the cottage opened, and her friend, her lover, came in, dirty and sweaty, but excited to see her favorite person in the world.

Then, eyes falling on the mother and her child, she stopped, half confused, half amazed. Arys was so... beautiful. So exotic. Scales all along her body and cupping her breasts, watery, tearful eyes piercing her soul, wings that looked like they could take off and reach the stars…

The baby dragon suckled its fill before begin to squirm, wanting down. The cursed teen relented, and it curled up in a corner, promptly falling asleep. “Sweetie…” Chel asked. “How did this happen? Are you alright?” Sobbing, terrified of what was to come, the frightened dragon-girl described the delivery. Normal for the most part, but how in the very end, everything felt so incredible, how she felt so sexy, the feeling of strangeness as the orgasm overwhelmed her…

The servant girl knew there was no going back like this. But neither of them thought that the princess could leave the castle safely in this state either, let alone survive on her own. The sweet girl embraced her frightened lover tightly, letting her feel loved, feel safe, while slowly, a plan began to form in the maid’s mind. “Sweetie…” she whispered into her friend’s webbed ear. “I think… I think I know what we can do about this…”

Arys shivered as soft, delicate fingers stroked over the smooth, pebbled scales of her back, another hand running down the dark blue of her outer thigh, before finding the soft skin of the inner. “What are you doing?” she asked of her childhood friend, confused and a little irritated. “I’m not certain this is the right time for-” “Shhh…” Chelsie hushed her partner, trying to elaborate. “Listen to me. You said you felt funny when you… climaxed, right?” she whispered, voice husky.

Those teasing, soft fingers were right next to the princess’ sex, finding it good as new and eager under the influence of these gentile attentions. It was already tingling, becoming wet… Arys could find no words she could trust, only nod silently.

“You know how, sometimes, things have happened right around your birthday, hon?” Another hesitant nod, now with a quiet moan, those wonderful fingers starting to play over the teenage girl’s fully healed lips… “Maybe, for this year… well, maybe pleasure make you change faster…” A finger slipped between the lips of Arys’ gender, finding it slick and utterly ready, causing the princess to let out that quiet, surprised gasp that the commoner loved so very much

“I mean… what’s the harm of trying?” she cooed in a mischievous tone, an easy, wicked grin on her face as that torturous finger slid over the swollen, eager clitoris of the cursed girl, making her whimper in need, clinging tight to her lover.

As Chel began to massage the sensitive nub in small circles, making Arys start to pant and tremble, clinging tightly to the girl making her feel so good right now, a slight ache built in her fingertips behind her nails. The pressure and pain grew worse and worse, until they started to grow into proper claws before her very eyes. Scales began to grow back over her fingers slowly, and she could feel them piercing her skin, spreading her body all over…

Chel could tell this was going to take a little bit, but it clearly was working. Fortunately for the prissy royalty she’d come to adore, she was a patient lover, and the two would more than likely have all week uninterrupted. The maid lowered her friend and lover to the ground, finger beginning to work quick circles between the intensely aroused royal’s legs, grinning as she saw the evidence of her efforts.

The princess’ voice began to deepen slightly as her back arched. “My face… it hurts… Something is… pushing…” she gasped. The maid leaned back, watching with delight as her lover’s nose began to widen, moving as faint crunches and cracks could be heard. She began to moan in pain as, slowly, her face began to slowly, agonizingly push forward, the sexual energy amplifying the transformation process, her sweet face beginning to push out into a reptilian snout. “Huuurts… oh gods, Chel, it hurts so bad… don’t stop, please, I want to change for you…”

Arys was going to make such a beautiful dragon…

)----------

The king would never see his daughter again. On the fourth day of his daughter’s insufferable “female time” retreat, his men claimed to see some sort of scaled demon, appearing draconic in nature but human in stature. It soared from within the grounds over the wall, a joyful roar coming from it as the beast flew into the distance toward the mountains where the last dragon stronghold was said to be, the one the kind had been trying and failing to eliminate for years.

Reports claimed one of the servant girls was riding upon it, clearly captive, arms up and hollering up a storm. Some said it sounded elated, but obviously she was screaming for help. What sane person would be excited to be kidnapped by some otherworldly hell beast, with scales a deep, shimmering blue and eyes like flame? Some reports also mentioned a small green beast flying alongside whatever succubus had infiltrated the grounds, clearly some form of pet or familiar. Dragons WERE known for cavorting with demons, after all.

The troops sent to investigate the cabin reported it empty. The inside, however, was humid, reeking of sex and birth with the princess’ grow shredded to bits and scattered all over. The bed and floor also shared similar fates, the frame broken, massive claw marks in the wood on the ground and the walls. There had been some sort of struggle, and while the princess had put up a fight, it seemed that the worst had happened.

Further investigation showed, littered around the area, the remains of shells of all manner and color. It was impossible to tell how long they’d been there, but a scholar claimed they were the remains of dragon eggs.

That was all the king needed to hear. Clearly, one of those damnable lizards had infiltrated the ground, raped it’s eggs into his poor, sweet daughter with the help of some sultry abomination from the depths. After she laid the clutch, probably scared and alone, the nightmarish beast ate her, before leaving with its offspring.

The servant likely had helped it into the castle, the pesents being restless with their treatment. Fitting revenge, to impregnate and murder his daughter! At least, that’s how it must have seemed to the whelp.

Overcome with (more than the normal amount of…) rage, he vowed that this betrayal, this attack, would not be forgiven! He had let these monsters live for entirely too long, it didn’t matter if the kingdoms of his enemies laid between him and the mountain stronghold of the creatures. He would march with his men, and crush them once and for all.

History would remember the king as a madman, dooming his army and kingdom in a suicidal march through enemy territory in a poorly planned quest for vengeance after his daughter’s death.

Meanwhile, the dragons would form a long-lasting alliance with neighboring kingdoms, and would somehow come back from the brink of extinction. They had found a wise new matriarch, and a steadfast advisor, both with intimate knowledge of human customs and cultures. There was rumor that both of them were not wholly dragons, but rather smaller, more conventionally beautiful, standing on two legs, making it easier for the villages to approach and talk to them.

Legends say that both produced many children, and lived until the mysterious disappearance of dragons from written history, deeply and wholly in love until the last.

#transformation #girl to dragon #egg laying #monster birth

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