#so i managed to get a good rhythm going of dispel that attack then cast barrier then just do my best to dodge everything else

[danielnelsen]

took a 2.5 month break from my solo nightmare playthrough and upon returning i immediately decided to fight a dragon who is the same level as me. and i won.

[shaolin-spin-doctor]

Midnight Terrors

Kung Jin is awoken by someone sneaking past his bedroom. Fearing an enemy attack, he gives chase, but finds out the intruder's identity and motives are completely unexpected.

Kung Jin jolted awake upon hearing the sounds of hurried footsteps outside his room.

They weren't loud at all - in fact, if the Shaolin monk wasn't so well-seasoned by the numerous sneak attacks he and his fellow Special Forces teammates had been subjected to in their visits to Outworld, he might've just missed them entirely. Whoever was out there knew how to move quietly, regardless of the evident panic in their uneven stride.

Someone with such skill sneaking around the temple in the middle of the night couldn't possibly mean anything good.

Kung Jin sprung out of bed, snatching his staff and wasting no time in darting out of the room. He was relatively unprotected, sporting only the plain tank top and shorts he usually slept in, but he couldn't afford to slow down and let the intruder escape; whoever was out there was fast, and there was no telling of what they might do if left unchecked... That is, if they hadn't already finished whatever job they were sent to do.

Shaking his head in an attempt to clear the dark thoughts forming in his mind, the Shaolin warrior continued to run through the moonlit corridor, the feeling of the cold marble tiles beneath his feet dispelling whatever traces of sleepiness still lingered within him. He could hear muted noises right ahead - they resembled voices, but they sounded distorted and out of sync; they had an almost sinister, yet desperate feel to them, and Jin had the disturbing feeling they were somehow familiar.

Slowing down as to avoid detection, the monk tracked the strange sounds to a huge, slightly open wooden door on one side of the hallway. He recognized it as one of the many meditation rooms in the temple - he himself visited it quite often, being the one closest to his own room and in relative isolation from everyone else in the temple. It was the perfect place to lock yourself in if you didn't want to be seen... or caught. Tightening his hold on his staff and channeling his energy until he felt the familiar heat of fire forming inside the metal dragon's maw, Kung Jin drew a deep breath before pushing the door open and stepping inside, ready to confront whoever - or whatever - was on the other side.

What he saw caught him completely off guard, and whatever hostility he had felt died down in a split second.

A man was down on his knees in the middle of the room, pose askew as if he had carelessly - or perhaps, despairingly - thrown himself into the floor; his long, graying hair was a mess, free from the braid it was usually styled in, and his frame shook everytime he attempted to breathe, making it apparent he was struggling to do so. His warped, echoing voice recited a choked prayer, the ominous sound doing little to mask the sheer fright dripping from every word, and the faint glow cast by the pulsating yellow veins stretching throughout his ashen skin revealed trails of blood leaking from nail-shaped wounds in his arms. Kung Jin let out a light, anxious gasp, lowering his staff and staring at the figure in front of him.

"Lao?" He asked softly, failing to stop his voice from trembling at the end. The revenant flinched at the mention of his name and curled further into himself, his voice growing more desperate and desynchronized as he struggled to continue his plea - a chant used to purify one's spirit, Jin noted. The young Shaolin moved to his uncle's side, kneeling next to him to try and get his attention. "Easy there, old man," he murmured, moving his hands in a placating gesture, "It's me, Jin. It's okay."

Kung Lao turned to face the other warrior, blazing eyes wild with dread despite his nephew's reassurance. Whatever words he was trying to say died in his cracked lips as he frantically gasped for air, and Jin, recognizing the older man's struggle, placed a firm hand in his back in an attempt to ground him.

"Breathe with me," Kung Jin instructed, inhaling slowly and exaggerating his motions so they'd be easier to follow. It took a few attempts, but Lao understood soon enough and began following his rhythm, eventually managing to calm down enough to shoot him a grateful look. Jin nodded.

"You did great," he said with a soft smile.

Kung Lao shook his head, looking away. "I'm sorry. I... lost it," he whispered, bitterness lacing his words. The younger Shaolin frowned.

"What are you talking about?" He inquired. Lao drew in a sharp breath, refusing to look back at his nephew.

"I had a nightmare." The revenant stopped for a moment, running a hand down his face. Jin noticed traces of dry blood trickling down his blackened nails and into his palm. "I was beating your team up, really badly. I tried to stop myself, but the more I struggled, the worse it got, and then I..." he shut his eyes tightly. "I killed you, one by one. Cassandra, Jacqueline, Takeda... And you. I ended your lives with my bare hands, and I was laughing, and it felt so real, and I... I panicked. By the elder gods, I was terrified. I thought... I thought I had actually hurt someone."

For a moment, Lao looked down at his hands, studying the dried trails of crimson running down his fingers. He then huffed, his face twisting into a disgusted snarl.

"That doesn't change anything, though. I did hurt people - committed unthinkable atrocities. It doesn't matter how hard I try to hide it..." He drew in a shaky breath and clenched his fists tightly, long nails digging into his skin with enough force to draw fresh blood. "I'm still a monster. Am, and always will be."

The sinister, out of sync echo of the revenant's voice only amplified the vitriolic self-loathing present in his words, and Kung Jin's chest ached at how familiar the whole situation was.

"Is that all you think you are?" he asked quietly, tawny eyes locking with his uncle's fiery ones. Kung Lao was taken aback by the sheer hurt written all over his nephew's face. "You do realize it wasn't your fault... right? You were under Quan Chi's control. You couldn't-"

"I enjoyed it!" Kung Lao growled, interrupting the other warrior. "I tried to stop it, but it felt good. No matter how hard I fought, how much I tried to resist, it felt good, and I couldn't control it. I-"

"It wasn't you," Jin cut him off, a solemn edge to his voice. "It was never you."

The revenant let out a trembling exhale, a pained expression taking ahold of his face. He closed his eyes and curled into himself. "I should've tried harder. I... should've been stronger."

Kung Jin didn't think twice before wrapping his arms around Kung Lao's frame, pulling him into a hug. The older Shaolin was unsure of how to react at first, stunned by the sudden contact - he couldn't remember the last time he had been embraced like this, and the unexpected display of affection seemed almost alien to him. It took a while, but he eventually returned the gesture, allowing himself to give into it completely. Jin sniffled.

Despite Lao's unnaturally cold form, it almost reminded him of the last time they bid each other farewell all those years ago. Before the world came crashing down for both of them.

"No, Lao." The younger warrior said, finally breaking the silence. He felt like a child, clinging desperately to his uncle as if the older man would somehow disappear if he let go. "It wasn't your fault. None of it was." He broke away from the embrace to look at the other warrior in the eye. "Anyone else would've succumbed to the darkness, but you? You made a conscious effort to come back once you broke free. You fought to get your life back, and you did, and you're so, so strong for it."

Kung Lao opened his mouth to protest, but Jin shot him a warning look and raised a finger to silence him before he could say anything. "Don't blame yourself for things you had no control over. What matters is that you're here, now, and you're being true to yourself despite everything. You're not a monster. You..." The young Shaolin looked away for a moment, carefully considering his next words, and when he looked back at his uncle, it was with a fond smile on his face. "You're a hero."

Lao stared at his nephew as he processed his words. The other man's genuine expression filled his chest with an overwhelming feeling of warmth, and he forced himself to rub his eyes with the back of his hand in an attempt to hide the moisture building in them. "Just a hero?" he asked, shooting Jin a knowing look. The archer rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion.

"Fine," he huffed dramatically. "My hero."

Kung Lao chuckled. "I thought I was just another thing in your way."

Jin snorted and shoved him jokingly. "The only thing you're in the way of is my sleep schedule. C'mon, I need rest, and so do you." He punched his uncle's shoulder softly and gestured for him to stand up. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"Wait," Lao said , stopping Jin dead in his tracks. "I can't go out like this."

"Didn't stop you from waking me up," the younger warrior shot back, causing his uncle to pout. "Plus, I doubt your spirit can settle down when you're hurt and covered in blood." He shot the other man a devious look when he groaned. "Tough luck, gramps."

Kung Lao sighed dramatically before standing up. "You sure have a way with words."

Kung Jin shrugged as he picked up his staff and followed suit. "It's a Kung thing."

The two men approached the wooden door, and Jin was about to hold it open when Lao spoke up out of the blue. "Jin?"

"Hm?"

"... Thank you."

The archer looked back at his uncle, and they locked eyes. Gratitude was written all over the revenant's expression, and, despite his inhuman features, Kung Jin could see the soft smile on his face was genuine. He grinned back.

"You're such a softie. C'mon, old men first."

[starlling-writes]

Bewitching Monsters - Cursed Book

Series Rating: 18+ Chapter Contains: minor swearing, tentacle sex Pairing: f/tentacle BeMo Masterlist   ☆  Writing Masterlist

**Alt Pronouns are used in this chapter. Please refer to the following guide. 

Lybras asked me to help vir to sort a large shipment of books. A mansion out west was declared abandoned, so the local court went about repossessing everything on the land. Despite only have being sent a fraction of the collection so far, ve had a small archive’s worth of new books.

“Glad I brought caffeine and snacks,” I chortled when I saw all the stacks.

“Handle only what you feel to,” ve dismissed. “I already expect to spend weeks on this.”

“So you get to keep all these books?”

Ve glanced up from vis notes to glare a warning at me. “Depends on what we find. But yes; most will be staying here.” Typical dragon hoarding a trove. Ve gestured to a stack and said, “Start there. Be careful though. Some of the books are spelled.”

“Spelled?” There were a number of reasons to spell a book. If it were to keep unwanted readers at bay, though, the trouble would be the level of security they had. I was reluctant to find that answer. “How so?”

“They didn’t elaborate,” ve grumbled. Figures. Why would the court make our job easier?

For hours it was just mundane filing. It was easy yet numbing to fall into a rhythm. Which was why I jumped and yelped when Lybras suddenly yelled. I looked over and saw vis hand encompassed in flames. White, magical flames.

I cursed and ran to vis side. I cast the counter spell but instead of putting it out, it made the fire jump to me. Cursing, I fell on my ass as I panicked. This wasn’t basic magical fire. Trick fire then? Maybe. I didn’t have too much time to think about it as it was quickly spreading up my sleeves—I really liked this sweater too. I squeezed my eyes shut focused. It wasn’t a standard spell so my usual counter spells wouldn’t work. It leapt to me when I tried dispelling it, so it had to have some type of reflection element in it. Dammit! Who the hell cast such a complicated fire spell on a book?

Suddenly the fire was gone. Well, technically it was no longer eating away at my sweater and now attacking a poor potted plant Lybras was holding a safe distance away.

“The hell?”

“The fire jumps to the last living thing to touch the book. Your foot hit it when you came to my aid.”

“It burns the last—how the fuck did they even manage to send it here?” I grumbled as I picked at my burnt sleeves. I guess I should be glad my skin wasn’t burned.

“I’ll add it to the dues.”

I crossed my arms and looked around, scrutinizing the remaining books. “I’m going to hunt down more of the spelled tomes. The fewer outfits that end up ruined, the better.”

Ve grumbled, not caring either way. I took off one of my rings and a chord bracelet so I could craft a makeshift pendulum. A quick enchantment later and I could easily sort out the mundane from the magical.

I claimed three of the reading tables and labeled them Magical Untested, Magical Benign, and Magical Dangerous respectively. With a simple cantrip, I floated the fiery book onto the danger table. One hour and thousands of books later, I had found all the spelled books. There were more than I expected, but I was ready for the task.

I drew up some talismans to test for any other bio-reactive books. One turned the paper to stone, another into a leaf, and a third set he paper on fire via lightning. Two books ate the talismans—though one was actually a young mimic. Lybras contacted the Humility Society while I persuaded the little devil into making a bed out of scrap paper and napping.

As for the harmless books, there were a lot that were simply password protected—from what I could gauge. A blank book would fill with lies if you gave it a drop of your blood. One would play out vivid daydreams when you opened it. It was tempting to test it thoroughly. However, getting hot and bothered would be so inappropriate right now.

Thankfully, most of the books ended up being nonthreatening.

But then there were the mysterious last two books.

They had a magical presence, but I couldn’t get any other reads from them. The talismans didn’t react; reveal cantrips were ineffective. I dared to touch the covers and spines, but still no reaction. The only thing left to do was open them.

I cautiously opened the first book. The pages were near black with how much was scrawled on them. After a minute of staring at a number of pages, I was certain I didn’t know this language. If it even was a language. I’d have to invest in a charm to translate writings soon.

“Hey Lybras,” I said as I walked over and showed vir the pages. “Can you read this?”

Ve scrutinized it for a moment. “No. Just mark as undetermined.” Ve flipped the page.

That was when things got weird.

The book… bit us. The writing began to glow as the pages fluttered and the book tossed itself out of my hands. We stared stupefied at it, waiting for what would happen next—because all of that had to have done something.

“Maybe something good will happen?” I hedged, trying to stay positive. Ve was unamused. The book stilled, and I was about to make another remark when black tendrils bubbled out of it.

We weren’t given a chance to run before it ensnared us. We both swore and struggled but to no avail. No place was safe from their touch. A glance at Lybras and I saw them covering vir from tail to horns. I almost envied vis larger size and greater body area for these lewd cirri to trail across. When I tried to shift positions, they constricted tighter around me. Little prickles bit into my skin. Did these things have teeth? If they did, they weren’t strong enough to break my skin since they only left oily ooze in their wake and no blood.

They weren’t constricting us to death, just groping and restraining. It wasn’t unpleasant, actually. I even started to think it was similar to being tied up by Mosaiko.

With that thought, my feelings towards the moment shifted.

This was still not ideal. I didn’t know what these tendrils intended to do and I wasn’t thrilled that Lybras was here to witness me… not hating them. We had a nice, professional relationship and this wasn’t my first pick on how to shift it to a personal level.

A tendril snaked around to the back of my neck and attached itself like a leech. Then I heard a voice—an amalgamation of voices—echo in my head.

Desire for desire. Will you accept?

“Did… did you hear that too?”

“Yes,” Lybras answered.

As least I wasn’t hallucinating. But what did it mean?

Desire of knowledge for desire of carnality, it responded. It was discomforting that it seemed to be able to read my mind. Will you accept?

“I don’t know if we should really trust this book.” I was skeptical that agreeing with it would be worth it. “For all we know, it’s gonna eat us.”

“I don’t think it’s anything that severe.”

“Elaborate book voice!” I demanded. “Will accepting your offer kill us?”

There are no desires for death. To fulfill the desires—nothing more nothing less. Knowledge for carnality, will you accept?

“We won’t get a straight answer,” ve sighed. “We’ll have to accept or refuse.”

I hated vague spells. My curiosity was running wild but I was still skeptical of all this. I fidgeted. The tendrils bit into me more, and that just made a little devil urge me to agree. I wouldn’t die; and knowledge and carnality didn’t sound so bad.

I conceded. “Well I’m up it if you are.”

Lybras took more time to make up vis mind. “I agree.”

Nothing happened.

“You have to say it,” ve said.

“Of course—the vague spell needs a specific answer.” I rolled my eyes then threw a glare at the book before saying, “I agree.”

In a flash like lightning, my vision danced and mind felt floaty. I felt like I had taken a few shots of vodka. My mind twisted and reformed. My memories and thoughts flipped pass like pages blowing in the wind. Even the skeletons.

My focus jolted back to the archive. Lybras was shuddering and short of breath and… erect. I knew I shouldn’t stare but damn. Ve was impressive. And I was intrigued to see vis unique anatomy—around the base of vis  shaft was a clear set of labia.

One of the tendrils wrapped itself around the head of vis member and swallowed it within. The dark, oozing tendril split into two; one stayed wrapped around Lybras’s dick, while the other quivered and reshaped into an exact replica of it.

What? I had second to think before it slithered its way to me. Oh damn. I knew where this was going—where it was going. At this point I had no more reservations. The moment I saw that slick tendril aiming for me I wanted it inside me. I didn’t fight as the tendrils already wrapping me spread my legs; didn’t struggle as a couple tore my panties away.

Instead, my eyes fluttered shut and head fell back as it started prodding into me. Slipping fully in, it felt like it was adjusting to fit me without really stretching me. Shame. Still, it felt wonderful as it thrusted in and out. No wonder there were so many dragon hybrids.

I wiggled my hips, trying to adjust so it would hit a better spot, but instead riled the tendrils up into biting me again. If they were trying to persuade me to stop moving, they were failing. Now I squirmed solely so they’d dig in more.

My mind was a cloudy mess. I sank further and further into the pleasure. So this is what it meant by carnality. I didn’t even care to wonder what the knowledge part had been. The fact we were supposed to be cataloging books was long gone. I even forgot Lybras was there—maybe watching, maybe lost in vis own pleasures.

The tendrils vanished and I dropped to my hands and knees. After taking a few second to calm myself, it registered that, right before everything stopped, Lybras had said ve rescinded vis consent.

We both stole a glance at each other then looked away. Silence rang between us for a good moment.

“You should make a couple memory wipe potions,” Lybras spoke up. “It’d be best we both forgot tonight.”

“Agreed.”

— — —

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