Emberlynn Pinkle
Undeserved Ascendance
chapter 5
by
copier
· original author:
an188
Emberlynn Pinkle stirred awake in her glowing purple-pink bedroom, the soft hum of her neon lights buzzing like distant whispers from beyond. It was just past 8 AM, sunlight filtering through black curtains adorned with starry patterns. She yawned dramatically, stretching her arms high like a character in one of her favorite animes, her short, chubby frame tangled in cute pajamas—a oversized black tee with a pink cat skull print and matching shorts dotted with tiny tentacles. "Nya~ what a dream," she squeaked to herself, her voice already pitching high with morning excitement. In her sleep, she'd been wrapped in cosmic arms, ascending to power. She giggled, shaking her wavy ombre hair, black roots giving way to turquoise waves laced with pink streaks.
Reluctantly, she rolled out of bed, her fair skin dotted with those signature pink freckles catching the light. The room was her sanctuary: walls plastered with posters of snarling werewolves, tentacled horrors, and "Monster Lover Pride" banners; shelves crammed with dragon plushies, demonic goat toys, and stacks of manga; massive fabric tentacles draping from the corners like guardians. She padded to her bathroom, stripping off her pajamas and stepping into the shower. Hot water cascaded over her, and she hummed a tune from an old cosmic horror anime, lathering up with strawberry-scented soap that clashed delightfully with her goth vibe. "Gotta look kawaii desu~ for my future subjects," she murmured, washing her hair carefully to preserve the vibrant colors.
Out of the shower, she toweled off and stood before her mirror, applying her makeup with ritualistic precision. Light pink eyeshadow to make her large brown eyes pop with that dreamy-deranged sparkle, thick lashes framing them. She dotted on concealer for any blemishes, then slicked on stark black lipstick, pursing her lips dramatically. Glossy black nail polish was next—she'd chipped a few during last night's frantic typing, so she fixed them quickly. Her silver eyebrow piercing glinted as she grinned at her reflection. "Perfect, Little Kitten," she said, slipping into her usual outfit: the oversized black hoodie with pink accents, short pink-and-black plaid skirt, and long black stockings with those adorable cat-face cuffs. She felt ready to conquer—or at least write about conquering.
Downstairs in the typical suburban house—white picket fence outside, cozy kitchen with floral curtains and a breakfast nook—Emberlynn quickly scarfed down her breakfast: a bowl of sugary cereal with milk, eaten standing at the counter. Her parents were already up, her mom sipping coffee at the table, dad reading the newspaper. They exchanged glances as she entered, her dramatic skip betraying her excitement.
"Morning, Emberlynn," her mom said, voice laced with forced cheer. "Sleep well?"
"Yeah, it was fine," Emberlynn replied, moderating her tone to sound more normal, less squeaky. She poured her cereal, avoiding eye contact. But then, slipping back, she added, "Had this sugoi dream about... stuff."
Her dad set down the paper, frowning. "Stuff? You mean those monster crushes again? Ember, we're worried. This obsession with... whatever those things are... it's not healthy. You're 19, in college—time to focus on real life, not these fantasies."
Emberlynn paused, spoon midway to her mouth. She moderated again: "I know, Dad. It's just stories." But internally, she seethed; how could they understand her destiny? Occasionally, her voice pitched up: "But they're so kawaii and powerful, like in that one book where the stars align and—"
"Enough," her mom interrupted emphatically, slamming her mug down a bit too hard. "We can't stand hearing about your 'crushes' on these eldritch... abominations. It's creepy, honey. And that room of yours? Posters everywhere, those fake tentacles—it's like a horror movie set."
Emberlynn winced, forcing her voice back to neutral. "Sorry. I get it." She ate faster, the cereal turning soggy.
Her parents softened a tad, exchanging another look. "Look, we're not trying to be mean," her dad said gently. "We think moving to the dorms would be good for you. Meet normal people, make friends, leave these fantasies behind. You'd have your own space, but without turning our home into... this."
"Yeah," her mom added. "And speaking of space, we're heading out this afternoon to visit Aunt Linda in the city. We'll be gone a few weeks—family stuff. Maybe use the time to think about it? Pack for dorms, even?"
Emberlynn's eyes widened, but she kept her tone even: "Okay, that sounds... fine." Inside, though, her heart raced—weeks alone? Perfect for rituals! She finished her bowl in record time, rinsing it hastily. "Gotta go write—uh, study. For college."
She rushed back upstairs, slamming her door a bit too dramatically. Plopping at her pink vanity desk, the monitor's hypnotic eye patterns greeting her, she booted up her computer. Her tiny horned goat plushie stared down like a sentinel. "Time to upload, nya~!" she squealed, voice fully high-pitched now that she was alone.
First, she logged into her dark web forums under her pseudonym, Emberlynn Light'ness Demoanya Pinkle. Her latest story—a steamy self-insert where she transformed into a tentacled goddess, devouring worlds in ecstatic union with Cthulhu-like beings—was ready. She posted it to the eldritch erotica board: "New chapter up! Me ascending, tentacles everywhere~ Kyaa, so hot!" Her small fanbase lit up almost immediately. Comments rolled in: "Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn—inspired!" one said in mangled R'lyehian script. Another: "Love how you weave in real summoning vibes. Tried your ritual yet?"
That sparked a deep discussion. Emberlynn typed furiously: "Totally! Sex with humans? Boring desu~ No interest, like, zero. But with an Eldritch Abomination? Sugoi! Imagine those tentacles wrapping around, pulling you into the void... *blushes* As that one movie said, 'The stars are right.' My ambitions? Become the goddess myself—enslave everyone, rule from the cosmos!"
A user argued: "But humans can be fun too, right? Mix it up." Emberlynn fired back heatedly: "No way! Mortals are weak. I want power, control—devour the world! Like in that anime where the entity consumes souls. Discuss: best summoning rituals for contact?"
The thread exploded. She debated anime tropes— "That tentacle scene in Episode 7? Peak eldritch magic!"—movies: "The void calls in that Lovecraft flick, but add more romance!"—and books: "This obscure novella has the best Black Speech chants." Hours blurred as she obsessed, quoting sparingly: "As the elder signs fade..." from a forgotten tome, just to add flair.
Between posts, she opened her fanfic doc, adding erotic details: her character writhing in naughty tentacles, ascending to godhood. "Yes, master~ Devour me!" she whispered aloud, giggling. Her tentacle fetish fueled every word—no human could compare.
By afternoon, her parents knocked. "We're leaving soon, Ember."
She moderated downstairs: "Have a safe trip." Hugs were awkward; they reiterated dorm pleas gently. "Think about it while we're gone."
As their car pulled away from the suburban driveway, Emberlynn waved, smirking. Alone at last! The house—spacious living room, backyard garden, quiet streets—to herself for weeks. "Time for real magic, nya~!" she squealed, rushing back to plan her first unsupervised ritual.
How she become powerful?
Reluctantly, she rolled out of bed, her fair skin dotted with those signature pink freckles catching the light. The room was her sanctuary: walls plastered with posters of snarling werewolves, tentacled horrors, and "Monster Lover Pride" banners; shelves crammed with dragon plushies, demonic goat toys, and stacks of manga; massive fabric tentacles draping from the corners like guardians. She padded to her bathroom, stripping off her pajamas and stepping into the shower. Hot water cascaded over her, and she hummed a tune from an old cosmic horror anime, lathering up with strawberry-scented soap that clashed delightfully with her goth vibe. "Gotta look kawaii desu~ for my future subjects," she murmured, washing her hair carefully to preserve the vibrant colors.
Out of the shower, she toweled off and stood before her mirror, applying her makeup with ritualistic precision. Light pink eyeshadow to make her large brown eyes pop with that dreamy-deranged sparkle, thick lashes framing them. She dotted on concealer for any blemishes, then slicked on stark black lipstick, pursing her lips dramatically. Glossy black nail polish was next—she'd chipped a few during last night's frantic typing, so she fixed them quickly. Her silver eyebrow piercing glinted as she grinned at her reflection. "Perfect, Little Kitten," she said, slipping into her usual outfit: the oversized black hoodie with pink accents, short pink-and-black plaid skirt, and long black stockings with those adorable cat-face cuffs. She felt ready to conquer—or at least write about conquering.
Downstairs in the typical suburban house—white picket fence outside, cozy kitchen with floral curtains and a breakfast nook—Emberlynn quickly scarfed down her breakfast: a bowl of sugary cereal with milk, eaten standing at the counter. Her parents were already up, her mom sipping coffee at the table, dad reading the newspaper. They exchanged glances as she entered, her dramatic skip betraying her excitement.
"Morning, Emberlynn," her mom said, voice laced with forced cheer. "Sleep well?"
"Yeah, it was fine," Emberlynn replied, moderating her tone to sound more normal, less squeaky. She poured her cereal, avoiding eye contact. But then, slipping back, she added, "Had this sugoi dream about... stuff."
Her dad set down the paper, frowning. "Stuff? You mean those monster crushes again? Ember, we're worried. This obsession with... whatever those things are... it's not healthy. You're 19, in college—time to focus on real life, not these fantasies."
Emberlynn paused, spoon midway to her mouth. She moderated again: "I know, Dad. It's just stories." But internally, she seethed; how could they understand her destiny? Occasionally, her voice pitched up: "But they're so kawaii and powerful, like in that one book where the stars align and—"
"Enough," her mom interrupted emphatically, slamming her mug down a bit too hard. "We can't stand hearing about your 'crushes' on these eldritch... abominations. It's creepy, honey. And that room of yours? Posters everywhere, those fake tentacles—it's like a horror movie set."
Emberlynn winced, forcing her voice back to neutral. "Sorry. I get it." She ate faster, the cereal turning soggy.
Her parents softened a tad, exchanging another look. "Look, we're not trying to be mean," her dad said gently. "We think moving to the dorms would be good for you. Meet normal people, make friends, leave these fantasies behind. You'd have your own space, but without turning our home into... this."
"Yeah," her mom added. "And speaking of space, we're heading out this afternoon to visit Aunt Linda in the city. We'll be gone a few weeks—family stuff. Maybe use the time to think about it? Pack for dorms, even?"
Emberlynn's eyes widened, but she kept her tone even: "Okay, that sounds... fine." Inside, though, her heart raced—weeks alone? Perfect for rituals! She finished her bowl in record time, rinsing it hastily. "Gotta go write—uh, study. For college."
She rushed back upstairs, slamming her door a bit too dramatically. Plopping at her pink vanity desk, the monitor's hypnotic eye patterns greeting her, she booted up her computer. Her tiny horned goat plushie stared down like a sentinel. "Time to upload, nya~!" she squealed, voice fully high-pitched now that she was alone.
First, she logged into her dark web forums under her pseudonym, Emberlynn Light'ness Demoanya Pinkle. Her latest story—a steamy self-insert where she transformed into a tentacled goddess, devouring worlds in ecstatic union with Cthulhu-like beings—was ready. She posted it to the eldritch erotica board: "New chapter up! Me ascending, tentacles everywhere~ Kyaa, so hot!" Her small fanbase lit up almost immediately. Comments rolled in: "Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn—inspired!" one said in mangled R'lyehian script. Another: "Love how you weave in real summoning vibes. Tried your ritual yet?"
That sparked a deep discussion. Emberlynn typed furiously: "Totally! Sex with humans? Boring desu~ No interest, like, zero. But with an Eldritch Abomination? Sugoi! Imagine those tentacles wrapping around, pulling you into the void... *blushes* As that one movie said, 'The stars are right.' My ambitions? Become the goddess myself—enslave everyone, rule from the cosmos!"
A user argued: "But humans can be fun too, right? Mix it up." Emberlynn fired back heatedly: "No way! Mortals are weak. I want power, control—devour the world! Like in that anime where the entity consumes souls. Discuss: best summoning rituals for contact?"
The thread exploded. She debated anime tropes— "That tentacle scene in Episode 7? Peak eldritch magic!"—movies: "The void calls in that Lovecraft flick, but add more romance!"—and books: "This obscure novella has the best Black Speech chants." Hours blurred as she obsessed, quoting sparingly: "As the elder signs fade..." from a forgotten tome, just to add flair.
Between posts, she opened her fanfic doc, adding erotic details: her character writhing in naughty tentacles, ascending to godhood. "Yes, master~ Devour me!" she whispered aloud, giggling. Her tentacle fetish fueled every word—no human could compare.
By afternoon, her parents knocked. "We're leaving soon, Ember."
She moderated downstairs: "Have a safe trip." Hugs were awkward; they reiterated dorm pleas gently. "Think about it while we're gone."
As their car pulled away from the suburban driveway, Emberlynn waved, smirking. Alone at last! The house—spacious living room, backyard garden, quiet streets—to herself for weeks. "Time for real magic, nya~!" she squealed, rushing back to plan her first unsupervised ritual.
How she become powerful?
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June 13
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