#i love shang in every version but i really like the way they carried his character in this game

[plutoswritingplanet]

Unpunishable (Shang Tsung x F!Reader)

a/n: no one asked for this, but hey, i've been in love with that soul stealing stink-man, i had to finally write something for him. this one is specifically MK1 story mode adjacent, but i do want to write more (for MK11 and the movie), Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: Dub-Con (kinda i guess), Captivity, playing fast and loose with the canon, Kinda Soft Shang?, Reader is a Blood Mage (nothing too serious tho)

Summary: After you and your friends raid Shang Tsung's laboratory, you get caught and kept captive by the Sorcerer himself.

Is it wrong to want more?

That was the thought plaguing you from the beginning of your training at the Wu-Shi temple. Blood magic was frowned upon in Outworld. For you to even cross the threshold of the realm, there had been some serious negotiations set in place. Still, the Fire God has managed to convince Empress Sindel of your assets as a healer.

And, you were a curious thing, after all. Humans were not born with magic in Earthrealm, it could only be bestowed by a God. Which is why your natural talent at commanding blood, both yours, and later someone else's, was a strange sight indeed. Strange enough to stir the interest of Outworld's nobility, granting you a safe passage to the tournament with your training companions.

Which is how you landed here. Between helping Raiden navigate the Tournament, through the secret mission on behalf of Liu Kang, and right up to now. As you sit, poised like a decorative doll, hands locked behind your back, intricate, golden cuffs digging into the skin of your wrists. There are piles upon piles of golden coins surrounding you, gold trickles down the walls in long smears of paint, golden dust stains your skin. A kink forms deep within your spine, from the uncomfortable position you have been put in.

And then, there's the deep, bleeding cut, stretching the expanse of your thigh. It was a stupid idea, tagging along for the mission to find Shang Tsung, and bring him to Liu Kang for questioning. You shouldn't have followed your friends into that one. Even more idiotic, was your short stand against Princess Mileena, as her Tarkat affliction took control of her. The fight, if you could even call it that, ended with you gaining a black eye and an awful, ugly cut, made by Princess's knives.

You shift in your position, trying to relieve some of the discomfort. Instead, the thick fabric of your pants slides on the wound, making you wince in pain. Flexing your fingers behind your back, you try to focus on the constant throbbing in your leg. If the traditional means of escape have been taken from you, perhaps a more finessed touch would be efficient.

Blood trickles on your skin, and every fiber of your being zeros in on the feeling. Sweat forms on your forehead, as you slowly force the stream to run upwards, towards your hip, and around your back. Your fingers flex into intricate positions, a thin line of your own blood reaches your wrist.

You have never tried this trick with your magic, all your life dedicating your gift to the art of healing. Dealing with the blood of other people, stopping, pushing, extracting, those were the things you were good at. Solidifying your own plasma, so it can cut through metal cuffs, was an entirely different topic.

But you have to escape. You have to. There's no telling what will happen to you, should you remain in this prison. Surrounded by gold and jewels, like some sort of perverted spoil of war. You valued yourself too much, to allow that. And, most importantly, your friends needed help. The intel you've gathered while being stuck in this wretched place wasn't much, but it was something, which in turn was enough to keep fighting.

Breathing becomes a hassle. You've already exerted far too much of your power, trying to extract from your bleeding thigh, and your hands shake behind your back, as you visualize particles sticking together, forming something solid, something that would free you of this prison. The liquid curling around your wrist shifts, an outer layer forming around it. All you've managed to achieve, is a sort of coagulated jelly, sticking to your skin.

"Your dedication to freedom in commandable." a familiar, male voice surrounds you, and you whip around, chain jingling at the sudden movement.

There he stands, in all his glory. Your captor.

Shang Tsung stalks towards you, his hands clasped behind his back as he leans down, hair flowing past his shoulders and obscuring the two of you from the world in a thick, black curtain. He smells rich. Sandalwood and jasmine, mixed with a nauseating undertone of blood and rot, no doubt, a leftover from his laboratory. It forces you to reel your head back, to try and escape it, but your efforts are quickly destroyed, as the sorcerer closes in further.

"Your skill, however…" his dark eyes fly around your face, taking in your distressed expression with a cruel smile "Well, let's just say there's some room for improvement."

Your eyebrows crease, as he flashes you a grin, before straightening up to his full height, allowing you a moment of relief from his overpowering presence. The bloody clot you've managed to form around your wrist falls to the floor as soon as you lose focus, and silently, you mourn the feeling of blood sinking between golden coins, never to be recovered again. You couldn't even if you tried, not with the Outworld's Snake right in front of you, circling your body like a hawk ready to strike.

Suddenly, he crouches down, right beside your abused leg, your breath catching in your lungs at the sudden change. The way he moved never seized to amaze you, as much as you hated to admit it. There was grace burned into his very being, every step a slithery dance. It terrified you, rightfully so, but underneath something new was brewing. A feeling, which you could easily dismiss during the rush of fighting, was no longer satisfied with staying dormant.

There was a strange pull between the two of you, like two magnets on the opposite sides of a table. Whenever your eyes met with the Sorcerer, you could feel something buried inside your soul start to wake. It felt so foreign, yet so very familiar at the same time, like a ghost of some ancient prophecy clawing at your mind.

Once you free yourself from this hellish predicament, you'll ask Liu Kang what is going on with you. He has to know, or at least, suspect something, and you knew very well, feelings like those could not be ignored. Too much was at stake, to keep secrets out of some misguided shame. That is, if you even make it out of here, because the man beside you suddenly pushes his robe outwards, producing a small box with a practiced flare, like a magician during one of his shows.

"Do not fret, Mortal" you're not sure if the "pet" name is a thinly veiled insult, or if it's just the way the Sorcerer speaks "This is simply something to heal your leg."

Now, your confusion must be palpable, because Shang Tsung's smile widens, as he takes in your face. Then, he laughs quietly to himself, barely above a whisper, and the hairs at the back of your neck stand straight at the sound.

"I don't want anything from you" it's a pathetic effort at staying defiant, and both of you know it.

Instead of entertaining your little outburst, the Sorcerer grabs your leg with his free hand. Immediately, you start to struggle, despite the sharp pain overtaking your senses, as his grip on you tightens. Then, you let out a sharp squeak, when the man's golden claws tear into the fabric of your pants just above the wound, and dangerously close to the apex of your thighs.

The wound looks back at you, swollen and bloody, and you swallow thickly, as blood flows from your face. You could treat it, successfully as well, if only your hands weren't currently bound behind your back, with very limited moving space. Shang Tsung opens the box with delicate fingers. There is some sort of salve packed inside, a rather large indent right in the middle proving it's been used quite extensively.

His hold on you becomes less of a grip, bordering almost on a soft caress, which brings an entire wave of concerning feelings to the surface of your mind. If he notices the way your cheeks flush, he says nothing, opting instead on dipping his fingers into the salve.

"This might hurt" he warns you, although there is not a single note of concern in his voice.

"What is that? Another Tarkat experiment?" you try to mask the shaking in your voice, as the thought of being experimented on genuinely frightens you.

Your leg twitches under his fingers, and he digs in deeper, turning to face you with an unexpected, serious expression. Again, you feel short of breath, as his dark eyes bear into yours with intensity you haven't yet experienced.

"I would never..." he cuts himself off.

The word, or rather, the tone in which he says it seems to startle you both. His eyebrows furrow in an expression of annoyance, or worry, you're not entirely sure, and he turns back towards your wound, his black hair shielding his face from your gaze. Was that repulsion, hidden within his voice? Your chest suddenly feels much too tight. Was the merciless Sorcerer disgusted by the prospect of conducting his inhumane experiments on you? You weren't sure if the sentiment warmed your heart… Or terrified you to the very core of your being.

Still, all your thoughts leave your brain, as soon as Shang Tsung places his fingers on your wound. At first, a cold feeling overtakes you, pain letting go for just a split second. Then, fire. White, hot, burning ache, seeping into your wound. It feels as if it reaches your bone marrow, and with a silent scream you fall on your back, writhing on the floor. Golden coins fly from under your feet, as you kick around, the golden chain tying your hands together strains, as you pull on it with all your might. Slowly, the pain fades, some sort of tight sensation pulling at the skin of your thigh.

And one more thing.

As you come down from the initial shock of the painful treatment, your brain registers something warm and firm, rubbing circles into your flesh. It takes you another while longer to realize it's Shang Tsung's hand, resting right above the wound, claws tapping on the inside of your leg. He watches you, as your breathing starts to slow, eyes following drops of sweat falling from your forehead and mingling with tears. Your lips parted, your eyelids flutter, and you let out a long sigh, finally being able to look down on your leg.

Where the wound once was, now, a long, pink scar shines in the light of the torches strung around the chamber. Shang Tsung closes the box, before hiding it amongst the many layers of his outfit. You half expect him to stand up and leave, but your hopes are squashed once again, as the man kneels down next to you, turning his attention towards your heaving chest.

His hand comes up, towards your face, claws shining gold. You wince and close your eyes, despite your best efforts to appear strong, but the pain you've anticipated doesn't come. Instead, you feel something sharp drag itself across your forehead. You risk cracking an eye at him, face scrunching, before relaxing into an expression of utter confusion.

There he was, your captor, tormentor, your enemy, brushing flyaway hairs from your sweaty forehead. Your eyes meet, and again, feelings swirl inside your gut, some you're too scared to decipher, and some need no explanation. His lips curl into something akin to a smirk, yet his eyes remain focused on you entirely, thoughts swimming behind his irises. Then, as if some magic spell has been broken, you can see him shift into his true self, the same scheming energy overflowing him, as if a new, frightful idea has formed inside his mind.

Once again, he reaches into the pockets of his robe, this time producing a deliciously red apple. Its skin is shiny, the potent smell makes your mouth water, and suddenly you remember you haven't eaten in Gods know how many hours. With a dark chuckle, the man turns the apple, from side to side, as if he wants you to take full stock of just how sinful it looks. Then, with a simple gesture, he tips it towards your lips. Your eyes snap up at him.

"I can't eat it with my hands tied" your voice sounds rough from all the pain you've experienced before.

"Nonsense, I shall feed you" he answers, as if this was the most obvious way out of your predicament, and the heat of embarrassment mixes with anger in your gut.

"You want me to eat out of your hand like some damned pet?"

Now, he laughs, fully. His eyes crinkle at the sides, as he inclines his head towards you.

"I know full-well you're too dangerous to let roam freely" your eyes flicker towards the apple, "And after all you've been through, aren't you hungry, Mortal?"

Your teeth grind against each other, as you weight your options. Shang Tsung moves the apple again in a tantalizing manner, and your resolve crumbles. Your eyes lock onto his, giving him the best performance of defiance you could muster, and slowly, you open your mouth.

"Good girl" he croons, and for a split second you ponder, if spitting at the man was worth the consequences.

He brings the apple closer, lets it rest on your bottom lip, before giving you a patronizingly inviting smile. Swallowing your pride, your teeth sink into the fruit, and you can't stop the absolutely shameful moan from slipping out of you, as the sweetness of the apple hits your tongue. Damned be precautions, damned be your dignity, you were hungry, and that apple was delicious. So you take a bite so large, it almost reaches the stem, letting some juice flow down your chin.

Shang Tsung watches you eat with a laser focus one might imagine he reserves for his experiments, teeth catching his bottom lip.

Another bite, this one silent on your part. His eyes follow the column of your throat, when you swallow. One more, and you give him a show of looking up at his darkened expression when your teeth all but tear away from the fruit.

Your hands are shaking behind your back, a coil is forming deep within you, and you press your legs tight together, to shield the rest of your dwindling dignity from completely being torn away. He notices. Of course, he does, as your actions seem to have a similar effect on him, if his bitten lips and heavy breaths are anything to go by.

"Why go through all this trouble, Sorcerer?" you ask, licking your lips from the remnants of your meal.

His eyes follow your tongue, before looking back right into your eyes. The rest of the apple is thrown somewhere amongst the golden piles of treasure, forgotten entirely. Time seems to slow down, air becomes thick between the two of you, surrounding you like a vat of tar. The pull you've been feeling since meeting this infamous monster becomes almost too strong to ignore.

Shang Tsung raises his hand, grabbing your chin and pushing it upwards. There is a myriad of emotions running rampant on his face, until it finally settles on something so dark and wanting, your stomach tightens at the mere sight. His lips come down upon yours in an avalanche, slipping towards your chin, where he provocatively licks at your skin, tasting the apple's juices and humming to himself.

Your voice comes out as a small whimper, entire body reacting to his kiss, as you fight between pushing him away and pulling him much closer. He decides for you, coming back to claim your lips again, as his hands start to travel up the sides of your stomach, gathering your shirt in the process.

His clawed gauntlets scratch at your skin, not enough to actually hurt you, but enough to elicit a wave of shudders from your body. Finally, he pulls away, considering your swollen lips and disheveled hair as one would their newest painting. Pride and mischief mix well in his black irises, and he licks his lips slowly, making you blush impossibly red.

"You look quite beautiful, like this" he croons, tangling his free hand in the hair at the back of your neck, "So pliant under my fingers."

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, poised above you with his usual smirk gracing his features. Then a thought materializes in your head, a chance at finding an escape route, if you could play your cards right.

"Untie me" you moan wantonly, arching your neck, as if to give him better access.

He launches at your exposed pulse point immediately, licking a long stripe up, before giving your skin a few delicious nips, ones that make you almost forget your half-formed plan. Almost. Gathering all your resolve, you writhe against him. His clothes are hiding a lean, but well-muscled body, and you wish so hard, you could run your hands down his chest.

"Untie me, please" you don't recognize your voice, so broken and needy.

The Snake stops his ministrations, tugging at your hair, before sliding his hand towards your shoulders, where he grabs you and pulls you even closer, so your body is leaning almost completely on his lap. His other hand makes quick work of the zipper on your trousers and worms itself into your underwear. A wave of humilation hits you, as your pink, polka-dotted panties look at you from between the fly.

"I can't risk you getting away" he whispers in your ear and takes a long whiff of your hair, humming in pleasure, "My Benefactor has made it clear, you are crucial to their plan."

That startles you. Or it would, if the Sorcerer hadn't began to delicately rub his fingers over your lower lips, just shy of entering you. It's torture, a new brand of cruel experiment, you think, as you buck your hips against him, trying to get some sort of pressure

"I would've thought you wanted me for yourself" you pant between heated kisses you're leaving on the exposed skin of is neck, "It certainly - oh - seems so."

The hand which is currently not occupied sneaks around your middle, before grabbing a handful of your right breasts.

"Would you like that?" he asks into the crown of your head, his fingers finally dipping into your opening.

It takes you several tries to form an answer in your brain, and another few to vocalize it. His thumb makes quick work of finding your bundle of nerves, and instantly starts to abuse that newly-found knowledge. You bite your lip, hard, to stop any sounds from escaping you, but the Sorcerer wouldn't have it. His mouth finds yours, and he swallows your moans of pleasure with an approving hum reverberating through his chest,

"Would you like to be kept by me? Be mine and mine alone" his lips brush against yours as he talks, and you tug mercilessly on your binds, wanting to hold onto something, anything. Him.

"I-" you can't quite finish your sentence, because the hand that's been, for the most part, playing with your breast like it's a stress ball, begins to travel further down, until it rests on the lower part of your stomach. "No."

It comes out as choked and desperate, as his fingers curl upwards inside you, hitting a spot that nearly makes you fly off the ground. He laughs, right in your ear.

"No?"

"No" you swallow, "I'm- oh fuck... I'm too good for you."

Another deliberate motion of his fingers and your toes start to curl. He might be the key to undoing the entire universe, but hell, he does know how to use his fingers. Long and elegant fingers, trained by years spent on studying ad practicing spells, made dexterous by whatever horrors he has committed in his laboratories. Fingers, which are currently pumping in and out of you with a pace set specifically to drive you insane.

"Yes" he hisses through his teeth, pressing his nose to the crown of your head, "You are too good for me, aren't you? That's why you're here, taking my fingers like you were meant for it."

Gods, his voice really isn't helping you focus. By the feeling of something hard and rather large poking you in your thigh, you guess you're not the only one getting off on the sound of his voice. A coil starts to tighten deep within you, growing tighter with every movement of his fingers, every word coming out of his filthy mouth

"Even the Fire God couldn't keep you away from me" his thumb presses down onto your clit and begins to rub it in quick circles, "He was so scared to let you go into my lair, wasn't he?"

You nod absentmindedly, thrashing in the Sorcerer's lap, as a strong shiver of pleasure wrecks your body. Experimentally, you move your backside, rubbing against his growing erection, and the man hisses into your ear, his movements faltering for a split-second.

"He was right" Shang Tsung seethes the words into your skin, before coming down to bite on your shoulder, "We will be each other's undoing."

His palm presses flat on your lower stomach, as his efforts inside your pants increase tenfold. The coil is so close to breaking, you can feel tears start to form in the corners of your eyes.

"Ladies first, sweet thing" he hums, pressing your writhing body even closer to himself, "Come undone for me."

And you do, as if compelled by some ancient magic. Your face buries itself into his robes, teeth catching on the skin of the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. And you bite, hard enough to break his skin, taste his blood on your tongue. The coil shatters, and so does your grip on the world. You let out a muffled wail, the Sorcerer pulling you even closer, engulfing you entirely in his presence, his smell. Your legs are shaking, as Shang Tsung lets you ride out your orgasm on his nimble fingers, and soon, your body becomes boneless.

He doesn't let you go for a while longer, still pressed to your body, swaying with you in some sort of perversion of intimacy. Or perhaps, as much as the thought terrifies you, there is some link building between the two of you. Something more than lust and curiosity. Then, his hand leaves your pants, coming up out of your field of vision. You catch a glimpse of his soaked fingers, and your imagination fills in, what might be happening just above your head, as an obscenely wet sound of sucking reaches your ears.

Then, like the gentleman he is, he helps you button your pants back up, straightens your shirt and ties your hair more neatly. You want to kiss him again. There is another need brewing inside you, as you watch him stand up and dust his clothes, which are now stained with gold dust in places.

Is it wrong to want more?

You want to reach up, brush your fingers through his hair, kiss him until he can't speak clearly. You wants to feel his breath quicken again, feel his pulse run wild. You want to drain his blood and feed on his power until there's nothing left.That last thought freezes you in your spot, cold shivers climbing up your body like a dead hand gripping you from beneath the earth.

Too dark, too power-hungry, and you were none of those things. You never will be.

"Beautiful" he murmurs again, watching you from above, but this moment of sentiment is cut shortly, as his head snaps towards the entrance to the chamber, expression souring instantly

Your eyes follow his, but there's nothing you can see in the darkness. A chill runs up your spine.

"Get ready, Mortal" oh, so we're back to thinly veiled insults, "My Benefactor will want to meet you soon."

With that, he turns to leave, not sparing you a second glance, and you're back to being alone. Used and left between the piles upon piles of gold surrounding you, like your part of this chamber. A pretty thing, stained gold, made to exist only when it's owner is looking at it.

You need to get out of here, before you lose your mind.

[tobiasdrake]

Villain Breakdown: Najma

Najma is a hard character to talk about because so much of her conflict is steeped in symbolism and parallels to a real-world event that I literally only learned about from this show. I was educated by the American public school system. I didn't even know Pakistan was a place that existed until my twenties.

As a symbol, there is a clear and unambiguous parallel that the show is drawing between the Clandestines involuntarily migrating to Earth and the Muslims involuntarily migrating to the newly formed state of Pakistan. But it's so heavily steeped in the history and culture of Pakistan that it's not something I'm super comfortable trying to analyze with my limited perspective. I see it. But I'm not really qualified to explain it.

As a character, there's something that's hilariously batshit about Najma. She acts with so much severity, intensity, and urgency. Leaping in the span of an afternoon from letting Kamala take the Bangle home to trying to murder Kamala for not turning over the Bangle RIGHT NOW. Murdering Aisha for the Bangle and casting Kamran to the wolves for his reluctance to kill everyone.

And then she flipflops and sacrifices herself for Kamran so easily. Kamala's like, "Have you tried caring about your son?" and BOOM, instant turnaround.

Her sacrifice would have been an easier sell for me if she'd been a more two-dimensional character. If she'd actually ever demonstrated any shades of caring about... Well, anyone, let alone Kamran. But she's such a one-dimensional card-carrying supervillain. The kind of entertaining scenery-chewing bad guy who fully knows that they're the villain of a superhero story and makes choices purely for maximized evilness. And that makes it really hard to believe she'd suddenly give up on going home and commit magic suicide for Kamran.

(I mean, it's implied that they can't get through the Rift; That going home isn't an option at all. But she blows that off and insists she's going to do it anyway seconds before her spontaneous change of heart.)

Najma's death reminds me a lot of Xu Wenwu from Shang-Chi. They're in much the same position. Faced with the horrifying revelation that the goal they've burned all their bridges to achieve was never what they wanted after all, they make a last second decision in their final moments to give their life for their son. They end their life not necessarily a good person - They'd probably do it all exactly the same given the opportunity - but doing one good thing with their dying breath.

But despite having much more time to tell her story, Najma's version of this comes across much weaker due to the choices made along the way. The decision to depict her as entirely evil in every possible regard where Wenwu's love for his family gave him nuance that fed into his sacrifice. And the decision to never truly confront her with the reality that what she's been chasing is a lie, making it questionable why she would suddenly turn her back on it.

Making either one of those choices differently could have sold it. If Najma blew off the horrifying truth but had a well-established love for her son, then we could have seen her voluntarily turn her back on her dream and give her life for his sake. Or if Najma was cruel and callous to her son but was forced to realize that she'd been chasing a lie all along, we could have seen her recalculate her values and have a startling revelation over the cruel sacrifices she's made to accomplish nothing.

But for a character who a) seemingly has zero compassion or love for her son and b) instantly rejects out-of-hand the idea that what she desires is not inches away from her face, I simply cannot fathom why she would do anything but go for it. Najma reaches her end with a level of nuance unearned by the rest of her journey.

[spockandawe]

I’m so unbelievably weak against characters who make terrible choices because they’re hurting and upset. I love the subtler resentful decisions that quietly build up ill will, and I love the big dramatic choices that end with everyone going down in flames. But more than anything, I love love love hurting myself with the emotional flavor of a character struggling with the tension of simultaneously realizing that people hate/mistrust them (or how much people hate/mistrust them, or which people hate/mistrust them), while also realizing that those people just have... no idea where they’re coming from.

I was thinking about this first because of Mu Qing, who is honestly a very low-key version of this scenario (and it’s also quieter since he’s not a lead character and rarely takes the spotlight himself). But the first big tgcf flashback honestly made my heart ache, seeing him trying to walk a line between maintaining his own independence/pride and not belonging to someone he wants to be peers with, but when he tries to be tactful, people decide he’s being shady.  He was picking cherries, to bring a treat to his poor mother (and the poor children around his home), but then got accused of stealing, and then didn’t want to say that it was because his only remaining parent was living in poverty. And it continues through the present day! He knocks out Feng Xin so he can save him from a burning city, because Feng Xin refuses to leave, and people are like ‘>:OOO MU QING ATTACKED FENG XIN??’ In some ways, this character hurts me more than the others, because he rarely does anything wrong, he has a bad attitude, but his most significant “missteps” tend to be like ‘you could have been a little more kind, tbh.’

But also too, I’ve been working my way through the svsss extras again, and... Shen Jiu. God, Shen Jiu. This character is agonizing, and I love him so much. He makes terrible choices! He does terrible things! He tries to set up an actual literal child to die horribly, because he resents that this child had a parent who loved him, and that he found his way to Cang Qiong young enough to reach his full potential! It’s absolutely unforgivable! But nobody except Yue Qingyuan has any clue how much Shen Jiu has been through and how to possibly help him grow or heal or how to support him into better decision making. And Shen Jiu is so hurt by the way Yue Qingyuan left him that he refuses to let Yue Qingyuan help him now. Like! This child was a slave, begging for food on the streets, then was sold to a rich boy who abused him in sexually-flavored ways and planned to marry him to his sister so he could keep him forever, and then his “rescuer” was a scumbag adult who taught him to steal and murder. 

And while Shen Jiu was suffering, he thinks Yue Qingyuan, who came from the same beginning and who promised to come back for him, was living in careless pampered luxury in a prestigious cultivation sect. Shen Jiu’s own self-evaluations are incredibly harsh, from the moment he’s reunited with Yue Qingyuan. He calls himself terrible, he calls himself a thing, and once it’s clear that he’s going to pay the price for his bad decisions, he tries hard to shove away the one person who cares about him and find some way to protect him. Yue Qingyuan never stopped loving him and defending him, but literally nobody else in the world has any sympathy for him whatsoever. How am I not supposed to be heartbroken? Shang Qinghua sighs over how his readers used to hate on Shen Qingqiu for having no motivations, which, sure, that’s understandable from what’s on the “Proud Immortal Demon Way” pages, but seeing the trauma driving his choices in svsss and seeing his own self-awareness and self-loathing and knowing that one (1) person in-universe has any inkling of his internal world (and that person died trying to help him), I’m! In pain!!!

Plus, in svsss proper, I saw a post in passing once that was something like... ‘readers are hard on luo binghe, because he’s the only mxtx protagonist where we see the worst decisions of his life and aren’t in his head to understand why he’s making those decisions.’ Which I still find fascinating, and think about often. It makes sense to me. And as far as my terrible-decision-making children go, he’s very interesting to me because he doesn’t really deal with the widespread distaste/mistrust that mu qing and shen jiu experience, it’s very much targeted on one person. I live for the parts of svsss where all Luo Binghe has to do is breathe, and Shen Qingqiu flinches and bolts. And Luo Binghe is not acting in kind or well-considered ways, a lot of the time! But he was seventeen, and his beloved teacher had told him that ‘humans can be good or evil, demons can be good or evil,’ but the moment Luo Binghe turned out to be half demon, even though he’d just been fighting desperately trying to protect Shen Qingqiu, that teacher he trusted more than anything immediately turned on him, stabbed him in the chest, and threw him into hell.

That’s agonizing!!!! Even without the aftermath, that’s agonizing to read! And when Luo Binghe comes back, years later, he’s upset, he’s hurt, he’s lonely, he’s still stinging from that betrayal, of course he’s not making good decisions. I follow good blogs, because I haven’t seen any terrible Luo Binghe takes on my dash, but I’m kind of :c that these takes apparently exist. Again, it’s not that I think he makes good decisions, but I can see why he makes bad decisions, and I can see other characters missing that context, and I am rolling in terrible, glorious pain. Luo Binghe shows up secretly in Huan Hua Palace and starts taking it over and generally acts shady as heck? Well, Shizun wouldn’t let him beg for forgiveness when he was a disciple, and he’s afraid to face Shen Qingqiu until he can meet him on a semi-equal footing. Luo Binghe gets angry and spiteful when Shen Qingqiu asks if he’s responsible for the sowers? Yes he does! He’d always, always tried to do right by Shen Qingqiu, and trusted Shen Qingqiu when he said demons could be decent people, but the moment he turned out to be half-demon, Shen Qingqiu immediately started expecting the worst from him at every turn. It hurts! I don’t blame him for acting on that hurt! And I am so endlessly compelled by the way that Shen Qingqiu completely fails to recognize the context for where Binghe is coming from.

And like... I cannot leave out Xue Yang and Jin Guangyao. Xue Yang is fascinating in his own way, because the steps are... a lot more explicit and clear-cut than some of these other characters. Shen Jiu’s downward spiral is very internal and he curls up tight to hide his weak spots even with the person who values him most in the whole world, but Xue Yang very plainly tries to lay out his reasoning for his most important person. His whole world is crumbling by the time things reach that point, and it was probably beyond salvaging, but god! He tries so hard to explain the position the world placed him in, from childhood onward, helpless and vulnerable, and that nobody was going to defend him except himself. 

But when Xiao Xingchen doesn’t understand what he’s trying to communicate, when he realizes that the person he values most isn’t willing to hear what he’s trying to say, he starts lashing out again and trying to hurt. It’s the same lesson he learned when he was young, in some ways. ‘If I’m stupid enough to trust you, you’re going to use that to hurt me.’ And then the logical next step, ‘If you’re going to hurt me, all I can do is try to hurt you worse.’ You can see the trauma playing out right there on the page, and it’s agonizing. I can understand some people not enjoying reading things that make them hurt that way, but I have trouble Getting it when people don’t at least find that kind of dynamic compelling as hell. I’ll sometimes avoid media that I know is going to make me sad, but if I’m in the mood to Experience Sadness, I know a dynamic like this is going to grab me by the heart and shake me like a ragdoll.

And... Jin Guangyao. He was on my mind too, partly because I’ve seen a few takes on his motivations lately that honestly kind of baffle me? Like, to each their own, especially since mdzs never takes us inside his head. But I see posts that like... he was bullying Nie Mingjue, or what if Lan Xichen could Tell he was never genuine and mistrusted him on some level, and how to put this. It’s not that I agree with the choices he made, though I really don’t want to play fandom purity police in any way, shape, or form (murder is good, actually), but I understand the choices he made enough that those sort of interpretations that skew towards the cruelty-for-the-sake-of-cruelty territory honestly kind of upset me.

There’s some interesting comparisons to be made with Mu Qing, in some ways. They both grew up poor, without a father, in “shameful” single-parent situations (a sex worker mother vs. a father being executed for being a criminal). They were poor boys with ambition, but no matter how they tried to carry themselves with dignity, those poor beginnings were rubbed in their faces, years after the fact. I think it does make a real difference that Mu Qing’s shame is mostly based in his own history (sweeping floors) while Jin Guangyao’s is more external (son of a whore), and that Jin Guangyao’s also insulted a parent who he loved dearly, and that Mu Qing was seeking the respect outside of famiial structures while Jin Guangyao was desperate to be accepted by his father.

There’s so much of Jin Guangyao’s early life that’s like ‘I’m Just Trying To Live My Life, My Dude,’ and it hurts me to watch. He really didn’t have goals that were all that excessive! If his goals were excessive in some way, it’s only by virtue of how highly ranked his father was, which isn’t his fault. His goal: ‘I want my father to accept me into the family.’ What the world saw: “oh my god, this son of a whore SERIOUSLY wants to be brought into this noble family, lmaooooo.’ There are characters who are more compassionate than that, and a lot of that reaction is down to the nature of the setting, but LORD, man! It’s honestly a pretty restrained goal for a kid to have! Especially when his father totally promised to come back for him someday, and he waited patiently for years before setting out on his own.

And even once he gets kicked down the steps of Koi Tower and dials back his ambitions, he gets so little space to breathe. He’s learning cultivation late, he takes a position as a nobody in a different cultivation sect, he’s just trying to live. But no matter how he rolls with the punches, no matter how he smiles and bears it, he’s being constantly, constantly prodded in that old, painful bruise. I’ve been finally working my way through The Untamed, and it was painful to watch, in Gusu, when he’s trying to present the Nie Sect’s gift to Lan QIren, and people just start focking gossiping about him, right there, perfectly audibly. And when we see him back in Qinghe, he’s perfectly polite and deferential, and that one disciple is still like ‘fuck you, ur mom was a whore.’

He makes bad decisions, but even when he makes good decisions, he can’t win. I don’t get anything from him at all that suggests he had Hugely Lofty Ambitions from a young age, he just wanted some kind of decent life, but almost nobody would cut him a break. Nie Mingjue did cut him a break, and Lan Xichen was gentle and kind to him, and that made such an impact on him. But I also think it made it that much worse, when he made later questionable decisions, and Nie Mingjue refused to let him explain himself. Nie Mingjue’s rigidity breaks my heart in lots of ways, but especially when it comes to Jin Guangyao. I don’t want to make this all about personal attachment, but it’s kind of inescapable in this situation. Nie Mingjue sends him a loud, violent message that if he’s not perfectly morally upright, he’s Done. But by now, Jin Guangyao has years of history of people being cruel to him based on a history he never was able to control. Nie Mingjue protected him, but hes made it clear that protection was... conditional. There could be arguments about how conditional, and what the non-murdery limits would have been, but the murder has been done, and it was already clear that Nie Mingjue never had the power to protect him from everything.

I can’t read Jin Guangyao’s later actions without also reading that fear and insecurity into his decisions. He even tries to say it outright, that he’s afraid of everyone and everything, and Nie Mingjue misses the point. Jin Guangyao hurts me a lottle, because he suffers both in terms of the general public’s judgment of him, but also in the judgment of someone he cared deeply about. I can see the reasoning and trauma, but so many other people in the story can’t. Jin Guangyao gets pushed to the edge by how his father holds him at arm’s length from the family, the atrocities he tells Jin Guangyao to commit on his behalf (and then maybe I’ll treat you like my actual son, maybe), but when he tries to express that, Nie Mingjue is like ‘can’t you just endure more, though??’ He builds a temple with a statue with the face of his dead beloved mother, and the public is like ‘omg, he made that statue with his OWN FACE, can you believe it??’

In some ways, the way Lan Xichen determinedly loves and trusts him makes it all hurt even worse. I absolutely believe Jin Guangyao when he says that he never once wanted to act against Lan Xichen. So many of the terrible decisions Jin Guangyao makes tie so directly to him seeking either safety or security. But he works hard in social gatherings to keep the peace and people think he’s two-faced. He endures years of mistreatment before hitting back and people judge him for hitting back at all and say that well, what else could we have respected from someone with that background. Nie Mingjue threatens to kill him multiple times, and he was a very straightforward, honest man, of course Jin Guangyao was frightened of him and decided it was safer to see him dead. I live for the pain of seeing a character I love make decisions I strongly disagree with, understanding why they’re making those decisions, and seeing other characters not understand, and simply hate them for the decisions.

This isn’t exactly new, this is why I’ll never be able to shake my love for Starscream, even if his quality of motivation... varies by continuity. And Pharma and Prowl are two of my favorite characters in all of idw1 for exactly this reason. I’ve got  at least three fics brushing up against Pharma’s resentment over ‘yes, i got ordered to run a hospital on a garbage planet I was sharing the most violent, sadistic decepticons in existence, I SURE WONDER WHY I WAS DRIVEN TO THIS DESPERATE POINT, BUT THE LOVE OF MY LIFE THINKS I’M JUST A TERRIBLE PERSON, SO I GUESS THAT’S THAT.’ 

And in the murderbot books, I genuinely get reduced to tears when murderbot has to deal with people compassionately interpreting its behavior instead of giving it no credit, the way its used to. I find the raksura books intensely, intensely satisfying in how Moon struggles to fit into a highly social, close-knit society after growing up so traumatized and alone, and how his colony gradually adapts to him and gets used to his quirks, instead of driving him out, the way he’s experienced so many times. No real conclusion here, I was just spacing out during a work training call, and got overtaken by how much I love characters who experience this particular flavor of emotional isolation.

[elara-moon]

Title: Happy Together (chapter six: BingQiu Week Day Six)

Author: Elara_Moon

Rating: T

Warnings: Sex pollen and accompanying consent issues

Summary: BingQiu Week day six: Passion. Shen Qingqiu, because this is his life, gets hit with a plant that’s usual effect is basically sex pollen. But it doesn’t… quite… end up the way one would expect?

AO3 Link

Shen Qingqiu misstepped. It was incredibly embarrassing for a cultivator of his level; fortunately, there was no one around to witness it.

By instinct, he put out a hand to catch himself. At the last second, he recognized the distinct flowers of the towering plant he’d reached out towards and aborted the movement, but it was too late. His fingers brushed the plant. In response, it spewed out a sickly pink powder into Shen Qingqiu’s face.

Oh, ****. Shen Qingqiu swore to himself and also cursed Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, because he knew what this plant was.

It had been in Proud Immortal Demon Way -- several of Luo Binghe’s wives had fallen prey to its effects. Its effects being to lower inhibitions and increase… ahem, desire, driving its victims to seek out relief, usually from anyone nearby. Basically, it was sex pollen. Naturally, in the original book, it had been one of many smut scenes, notably the only one involving… acts between characters that weren’t Luo Binghe, who only showed up later.

The plant itself was very distinct: the flowers on it had petals that began red in the center, then slowly shifted through purple to be a rich blue at the tips. The wives in the original novel, as stallion novel love interests with low IQ, had been drawn in by those very flowers.

Shen Qingqiu was just unlucky. He swore to himself some more. Why did his life always turn out like this? System, explain! Did Shen Qingqiu have to handle all of the love interest plotlines!?

Predictably, the System didn’t respond, but Shen Qingqiu hadn’t expected it to anyway.

This particular version of sex pollen, Shen Qingqiu remembered, was not like the comparatively tame succubus version. If left untreated, it killed its victims. But, unlike almost everything else, it could not actually be cured by protagonist papapa! Shen Qingqiu was surprised too. It had to be cured entirely separately from the effect it had on its victims.

Resigning himself to his fate, Shen Qingqiu reached out and caught a flower in his fist, tugging it roughly off the rest of the plant. The plant coughed out another cloud of powder, but it didn’t matter; Shen Qingqiu was already poisoned. Before long, Shen Qingqiu would likely lose all reason and be driven to seek out another person -- hopefully Luo Binghe, because at least he couldn’t lose any more face with that man. The flower was his only hope of providing a clue as to what had happened to him.

Luo Binghe might not recognize it -- the original had, but Shen Qingqiu had no way of knowing what Bing-mei knew at this point -- but if he didn’t, he would almost certainly go to Shang Qinghua for help, who should definitely know it.

And then, colorful flower clenched in his fist, Shen Qingqiu’s trains of thought crashed. As the pollen took effect, Shen Qingqiu’s thoughts were consumed with Luo Binghe.

“Binghe…” he murmured to himself.

Binghe. His husband. Shen Qingqiu missed him. It seemed like it had been so long since they’d seen each other -- since that morning, when he’d woken up in bed with Luo Binghe. It seemed like it had been so long since he’d kissed Luo Binghe, since he’d run his fingers through his thick hair, since he’d seen Luo Binghe’s smile whenever Shen Qingqiu gave in enough to show affection.

He didn’t do that nearly as often as he should. Shen Qingqiu should show Luo Binghe affection more often. All the time, even! He should tell him he loved him! With that thought, Shen Qingqiu suddenly needed to be near Luo Binghe. He needed to make sure Luo Binghe knew that he loved him.

Determined, flower still clutched unconsciously in one hand, Shen Qingqiu set off to find his husband.

---

Luo Binghe was doing paperwork. This was unfortunate largely because it meant he wasn’t with Shen Qingqiu. He had, however, already spent too long neglecting his duties in favor of spending time with Shizun. Understanding that didn’t make him miss Shen Qingqiu, though.

Just as Luo Binghe was thinking wistfully of Shen Qingqiu and only half-heartedly doing paperwork, the door to his office slammed open. Luo Binghe glared, ready to yell at whatever idiot --

It was Shen Qingqiu, as though summoned by Luo Binghe’s thoughts.

Luo Binghe dropped the glare immediately to beam at his husband. He wasn’t entirely sure why Shen Qingqiu was here, because he was usually very conscientious about avoiding Luo Binghe until he’d finished his paperwork, but it wasn’t like he was going to complain.

“Shizun!”

Shen Qingqiu stopped in the doorway briefly to stare at Luo Binghe with wide eyes. Then he all but flew across the room to Luo Binghe, slamming into him full-speed. Caught off guard, Luo Binghe staggered slightly before righting them both. He returned Shen Qingqiu’s embrace happily enough, if still a bit bemused.

Shen Qingqiu raised his hands, wrapping one around Luo Binghe’s shoulders and burying the other in his hair. There was a flash of color as something -- a crushed flower? -- fell from Shen Qingqiu’s hand and fluttered to the ground.

“Binghe…” Shen Qingqiu muttered, pressing a sloppy kiss to Luo Binghe’s chin. “Binghe, I love you, I love you so much, you’re so good…”

He trailed off in favor of urging Luo Binghe down and making a line of kisses up Luo Binghe’s face.

As much as Luo Binghe was enjoying it -- which was a lot, for the record -- he had a very bad feeling about this. Shen Qingqiu didn’t act like this; he was far too shy to say or do things like this so easily.

“Shizun, what--” Luo Binghe started, trying to push Shen Qingqiu off gently to get some distance.

Shen Qingqiu made an absolutely heartbreaking noise, desolate and mournful. “No!” he said, and pressed right back in.

His arm clutched tighter around Luo Binghe’s shoulders, and his other hand entwined itself so thoroughly in his hair that it would probably be a pain to get out again. He pressed his lips to Luo Binghe’s temple, but instead of continuing his kisses, he started talking.

“Binghe, I love you so much, I missed you, I hate it when we’re apart too,” he was saying, whispering warm air against Luo Binghe’s skin.

Luo Binghe was getting a little choked up. This was an emotional onslaught of unexpected proportions and Luo Binghe was not prepared. Even so, he was aware enough to realize that something was very wrong.

“Shizun,” he tried again, only to go ignored as Shen Qingqiu kept talking right over him.

Okay. Luo Binghe tried to focus past Shen Qingqiu’s words and actions. He needed to figure out what was wrong with him. As nice as the affection was, Luo Binghe liked Shen Qingqiu when he was himself.

His head tilted down, and his gaze fell on the colorful flower that now lay forgotten on the floor. Stooping carefully, with Shen Qingqiu making unhappy noises and following him down, Luo Binghe picked up the flower. He eyed it carefully. Surely, if Shizun had it on him, then it was important. This could be Shen Qingqiu’s only way of letting Luo Binghe know what had happened to him.

...Unfortunately, Luo Binghe couldn’t identify it.

Gritting his teeth, annoyed to be useless, Luo Binghe made his way slowly over to the door, which Shen Qingqiu had left open. Shen Qingqiu hindered him every step of the way, getting in his path and almost tripping him.

Luo Binghe flagged down one of his demonic servants and handed them the crushed flower. “Give this to Shang Qinghua. Tell him there’s something wrong with Shizun and he is to figure out what and find a cure,” he ordered.

There was no need to tell the servant what would happen if they failed to carry out Luo Binghe’s orders; they already knew.

Then, his best way of helping completed, Luo Binghe looked helplessly at Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Qingqiu patted at his temple clumsily. “I love you,” he said.

---

Luo Binghe ended up sitting in his desk chair, Shen Qingqiu on his lap. Shen Qingqiu was so insistent on both being close to Luo Binghe and on seemingly covering every available bit of skin with kisses that it was really just the most convenient option.

Shen Qingqiu had also moved on from simply repeating that he loved Luo Binghe to extolling his virtues, of which there were apparently many. Luo Binghe didn’t blush easily, but Shen Qingqiu’s near-unending list of things he liked about him might just manage it.

Though Shen Qingqiu was literally sitting in Luo Binghe’s lap, it was actually completely innocent. Shen Qingqiu had not yet made any overtures towards a different sort of activity -- he hadn’t even gone lower than the neck, seemingly content to plaster Luo Binghe’s face with kisses and play with his hair. When Luo Binghe checked, feeling like a dirty pervert, Shen Qingqiu was not interested at all.

And Luo Binghe was a pervert, okay. He could admit it. He often thought about sex, wanted it considerably more than Shen Qingqiu did, and was usually the one who turned their activities towards it. The very situation he was in, with Shen Qingqiu literally on his lap in a way he would usually never agree to, was doing some things to him.

But even Luo Binghe had some compunctions, and Shen Qingqiu was obviously not in his right mind.

So, innocent it stayed.

“Your hair is so lovely,” Shen Qingqiu murmured.

He was on such a hair kick recently that Luo Binghe had taken his hair down just to let Shen Qingqiu play with it. Shen Qingqiu had taken great advantage of the opportunity, running his hands through it, braiding segments which he would then immediately pull apart again. All the while, he kept up a running litany of compliments.

Luo Binghe was going to die if this kept up. Shen Qingqiu would kill him with affection and compliments.

“You’re so handsome,” Shen Qingqiu was saying. “You’re so cool in battle…”

No, strike that. Luo Binghe might die from sexual frustration first.

Finally, there was a knock on the door. Luo Binghe looked at Shen Qingqiu, who seemed no more likely to allow him to move than he had in the past several hours.

Well, it was just Shang Qinghua. And anyway, some part of Luo Binghe delighted in having people witness this. Shen Qingqiu allowing it to look like he was Luo Binghe’s, when he was usually so reticent in public.

“Enter.”

There was a long moment. Then the door creaked open, almost hesitantly, enough to reveal Shang Qinghua, half-turned, one hand covering his eyes. Mobei Jun stood behind him, not covering his own eyes, looking faintly bemused.

Mobei Jun leaned down to speak into Shang Qinghua’s ear, but not quite so quietly that Luo Binghe couldn’t hear him anyway.

“They are not indecent…?” he said almost questioningly.

Shang Qinghua looked up abruptly, seeming surprised. “Oh!”

Luo Binghe narrowed his eyes. Shang Qinghua had expected him and Shizun to be ‘indecent’? Exactly what kind of effect was he expecting?

“Lord Luo.” Shang Qinghua cleared his throat and stepped into the room. “I have the cure you asked for.”

In one hand, he brandished a bottle. His eyes drifted to Shen Qingqiu, who was currently muttering into Luo Binghe’s hair. Shang Qinghua looked faintly disturbed.

Luo Binghe nodded carefully to avoid dislodging Shen Qingqiu. “Good. What is it? What happened to Shizun?”

Shang Qinghua’s eyes went wide. He looked a bit like a prey animal caught in the gaze of a predator.

“Uh, um. Well, that is.” Shang Qinghua glanced backwards at Mobei Jun, then coughed awkwardly. “He’s probably been infected with the pollen of the Thousand Year… Lifetime’s Happiness plant.” He withdrew the flower from before from one of his sleeves. “That’s what this flower is from, anyway. The cure is actually really simple, it’s just a bunch of common medicinal herbs...”

That was good. Luo Binghe nodded again, and waited just long enough that Shang Qinghua seemed to think he was safe.

“And why did you expect that we would be ‘indecent’?” he asked then.

Shang Qinghua choked. Still, he answered, “Well, Thousand Year Lifetime’s Happiness pollen usually…” He flailed a little. “...causes people to, well, be -- uh, want…”

He was obviously struggling in finding an acceptable way to phrase it. Luo Binghe thought he knew what he meant, but he didn’t bother to help. He wondered if Shang Qinghua was simply always so awkward when it came to such things or if it was just Luo Binghe’s presence?

“...They usually search out relief of, you know, a sexual nature,” Shang Qinghua finished awkwardly, resigned.

“Then why isn’t he?” Luo Binghe said.

Shang Qinghua shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Luo Binghe narrowed his eyes, and Shang Qinghua jumped.

“But!” He waved the glass bottle again. “Either way, this will cure it!”

Hurriedly, Shang Qinghua moved forward enough to set the bottle on Luo Binghe’s desk before skittering backwards again. He bowed quickly, grabbed one of Mobei Jun’s hands, and all but fled the room with Mobei Jun allowing himself to be pulled along. Mobei Jun nodded to Luo Binghe.

“Uh, good luck,” Shang Qinghua called back over his shoulder.

And then the door closed behind them.

Luo Binghe shook his head, then set about getting Shen Qingqiu to lean away long enough to drink the liquid in the bottle. Unfortunately, Shen Qingqiu was decidedly unwilling to put up with the distance. In the end, Luo Binghe poured some of the liquid into his own mouth, careful not to swallow any, then, burying one hand in Shen Qingqiu’s hair to hold the back of his head, coaxed him into an actual kiss on the mouth.

Carefully, Luo Binghe pushed until Shen Qingqiu was tipped backwards to ensure that the liquid would flow into his mouth. Shen Qingqiu choked and tried to pull away, but Luo Binghe held him steady until he swallowed it, then pulled away himself.

Shen Qingqiu immediately coughed, but didn’t cough up any liquid.

“Binghe…?” Shen Qingqiu looked dazed.

“I’m here, Shizun,” Luo Binghe said comfortingly.

Shen Qingqiu blinked slowly at him a couple of times, then slumped over, his head falling to Luo Binghe’s shoulder.

“Shizun!?”

One arm still wrapped around Shen Qingqiu to support him, Luo Binghe tipped his head up. Shen Qingqiu was still breathing, calm and deep, and his eyes were closed.

He was asleep.

That was… probably fine. Luo Binghe let out a breath of relief.

Shifting his hold on Shen Qingqiu and slipping one arm under his knees, Luo Binghe stood, picking Shen Qingqiu up into a bridal carry at the same time. Another thing Shen Qingqiu never allowed when he was awake and aware.

At the very least, Shen Qingqiu should wake up in a bed, Luo Binghe figured.

And hopefully he wouldn’t be too embarrassed.