#aboutraidenmeta

[bastardsunlight]

Yoinked from @sxvethelastdance @sonxflight and @kathexismania

[bastardsunlight]

Raiden, what’s your type and why is it always short, dark, and scheming?

“I know it may seem as if Shang Tsung is short,” responds the god of thunder evenly, “but he is very nearly six feet tall. I am simply taller.” Crossing his arms and shifting his weight, he regards the individual thoughtfully, eyebrow rising. “Johnny Cage is hardly dark… and then only thing he has ever schemed is a birthday party for me.”

Raiden recalls that particular attempt with fondness. It had been a kind gesture, at the very least.

“And Hanzo Hasashi is also… not short.” Has he covered all bases? He thinks perhaps that he has. It seems satisfactory to him, anyway, and after all, it is but a brief interlude for the protector of Earthrealm. “If that is all…” He does not wait and instead leaves the area in a bolt of lightning.

ask my muse personal questions

[bastardsunlight]

Raiden- why did you choose the, er.... configuration of parts that you have?

Raiden opens his mouth to respond, not the least bit perturbed by the forwardness of the question. Lightning though he is, Johnny Cage is faster to answer:

“Hey! Hang the fuck on, pal, you can’t just go askin’ people about that shit! Who taught you manners, huh? Wolves? Listen, I grew up in Hollywood and the only kinda guys askin’ THAT were—”

“Johnny Cage,” interjects Raiden in a placating tone, a large hand upon the man’s shoulder. The muscles are taut under that grasp; he is ready for a fight. “I appreciate your intercession on my behalf, but it is no insult or intrusion on my person. I am a god and it is natural that mortals might be curious about these things. This is an opportunity to educate, not to berate.”

Johnny’s mouth opens, then closes, and he sucks in his lower lip. “Fine,” he hisses, “but I hear any funny shit…”

Raiden nods, “I understand,” he says, and then turns toward the unknown individual. “Simply put,” he says, “my form is most efficient. I retain the visible appearance of a human male—”

“Seven feet ain’t human, big guy.” Johnny’s gesture makes it clear how he feels about all seven of those feet, but Raiden’s raised brows return the words and body language, tit for tat. “Jus’ sayin’.”

“I retain the visible appearance of a human male because throughout your history, that has been the class of mortal who has held most sway, for better or worse. I simply lack the… physical weakness of that sex.”

“He means I can’t punch him in the dick.” Johnny Cage has decided that he will be Raiden’s translator until the intrusive questioner buggers off. There is nothing Raiden, powerful as he is, can do about this.

“Something like that.” Raiden sighs, shaking his head. “In addition, I thought to represent, as best I could, all mortals whom I protect and… to defy my nature in yet one more way. Does that satisfy?”

it's sinday

(only marking this sinday because it was asked on sinday and DOES have to do with sexy bits. I am in no way saying that someone's anatomy is inherently sexual)

[bastardsunlight]

Out from the dark shambles a mass of rotting flesh and clinking chains, feet shuffling away at what flowers remain on the desolate grounds.

Here stands Liu Kang, what is left of him. Eyes vacant and arms limp as he staggers toward the Thunder God, ignorant of rage’s red wreath, the sparks dancing about its skin. His mouth hangs slack, an indecipherable string of moans bubbling in the back of his throat. The sound of splitting bone accompanies the lull of his head, dead gaze meeting Raiden’s. Almost as if it asks, begs the one question that Liu cannot:

“Why?”

He has done this. Liu Kang’s current state—the state of his body and that of his detached soul—are Raiden’s doing. In his ire, he has done an abominable thing, an unforgivable one. He should be punished for it, but perhaps that is not necessary, as he seems to have manufactured his own hell. The red sparks die away and Raiden’s lightning returns to its gentle blue tones.

“I am a fool,” he says, speaking to no one in particular; the thing before him is no revenant and it cannot hear or comprehend—it has no purpose, except to mock the Elder Gods. Grief and rage have driven Raiden to this hellish act and justice dictates it must be hewho puts it right. If Liu Kang’s innocent soul can hear him, Raiden hopes at least to have its forgiveness, or that it will be a witness to the repayment of a small portion of a debt he owes the thing before him which was once a young man, vital and full of life, but is now an affront to gods and mortals alike.

He walks toward the rotting thing, extending his hands as he does so; no spark fly, not yet… not until he has those powerful limbs wrapped about the husk of the young man who once had trusted him with his life. Raiden holds tight and only then does the lightning surge through him. Shining tears fall and clatter to the stones beneath their feet as the sky overhead darkens and the electricity in the thunderer’s body meets that of his clouds. He is the master of the skies, but right now, feels as if he is the master of nothing and no one.

"Forgive me, Liu Kang."

[bastardsunlight]

//why would ye hide this in the tags!?

//The wise @sxvethelastdance and I have discussed Kidd Thunder in ridiculous detail and they’ve produced such gems as this:

“Think, how can Lord Raiden remain so calm? He possesses eons of wisdom, but would that not mean eons of stress?

Isn’t he tired of being nice? Would he not want to go apeshit? A baseline upon which Kidd Thunder’s existence operates.”

Which led, naturally, to the speculation vis a vis the Kidd being akin to Raiden’s “angry translator”. He cannot in good conscience “go apeshit” (‘til he does, which is not in good conscience, but an example of repeatedly pushing a gentle person), so the R A G E is funneled into this little entity of infinite chaos.

Someone else in the fandom (I’m sorry, I ain’t remember whomst) theorized that Raiden is the one who taught Liu Kang his trickster shit, and because Liu is who he is, (italic is me, bold is sxvethelastdance)

“Nobody will ever believe you”

Lord Raiden be like today, Liu Kang,  we learn psychological torture

And then he introduces Liu Kang to Kidd Thunder

Kidd Thunder just goes ape wild

“I thought it was a myth.”

“You were mythtaken.”

And this is where it gets divergent af ‘cause ofc we followed a different track entirely, so hang onto your bladed murder hats, kids.

I then suggest that Kung Lao, who is hiding in a tree overhearing this, has heard tales passed down in whispers by his family about a mysterious, tiny figure who looks just about exactly like Raiden, but could not be further from his personality. Naturally, I post a gif of Rayden snickering inappropriately, as one does (if one is Haokah).

Maybe one of [Kung Lao’s] ancestors devoted their life, like every waking moment, to researching what the fuck that thing is.

If anything at all, of course—thus rises the headcanon of the Kung family conspiracy nut. But wait, there’s more, because we can’t just leave shit at “he had a nutty relative who thought Kidd Thunder was a thing and wanted to research it” nope… ‘cause Kidd Thunder IS a thing. I should interject that we have also headcanoned that Kidd Thunder does NOT, for whatever reason, dig Liu Kang. More dialogue incoming; please snicker and enjoy.

Meanwhile Liu is getting his fucking face shredded by the Kidd, who is immensely jealous of him for reasons it cannot and will not articulate.

The hidden scrolls of the Kung family contain a thesis on the Kidd.

But those are very hidden, that relative was considered to be a little bit kooky

We then realized that this could be A Thing™ and so pursued it with the usual level of tenacity—the one that led to Warring Exes and New Kang.

It is said that on their deathbed, this random relative was accompanied by the Thunder god himself and that Raiden told them the secret

A rough approximation of their final words are “I was that close?”

It is said that Raiden smiled

A thing he rarely does

But that’s just an old story. It couldn’t possibly be true.

C o u l d   I t?

So from here on, it becomes less about Kidd Thunder and more about this mysterious Kung relative. If folks dig this, I might go into that, but this’s just a glimpse into how “haha jk… unless [eyes emoji]” literally drives our kreative process.

[bastardsunlight]

(Destroy my muse- Raiden. Sorry!)

A frozen, humanoid statue stands in the center of the area. It is clearly placed for the eyes the God of Thunder as he approaches it. It is not hard to truly see the fate that befell his beloved twin brother. Red-gold ichor was splattered in various places. Fujin's arms crossed in front of him, reaching up in an an effort to brace for impact. Bruises, injuries, and stained clothes covering his form showing the not easy battle be partook in. His face showed his last moments, scrunched and in agony.

There are those who think Raiden, god of thunder and protector of Earthrealm, is a stony, cold, unfeeling elemental with no ties to the people for whom he stands as protector. Those people do not know him well and would be shocked at his response to the frozen from of his twin. He rushes forward, Fujin’s name dying on his lips as he reaches the man. He dares not lay hands upon him—it is the god himself, not a statue, not really—for fear of harming, even destroying his brother’s body.

He is not dead, else Raiden would have ascended, but his existence is not a happy one. Raiden can tell from the slight twist in his posture, the bend of his back, the curve of his mouth, that he is in agony, his mind trapped in the howling dark of the place gods go when they are in between. Horror fills Raiden’s guts and begins to crackle through him, so that the white-hot energy of his essence begins to shift in frequency… and color.

Red lightning arcs dangerously from his body and he moves away, face a mask of cold fury, fists clenched violently at his sides. He does not cry out, does not call for vengeance. There will be no showy display of “shock and awe”, only oblivion. The heavens darken above, the sound of thunder roaring in with the thick clouds.

The price of Fujin’s life is dear, indeed.

Destroy my muse on anon

[bastardsunlight]

WIP snippet meme thing tagged by @avi17

Tagging @daughterofnero and @heamatic

Post a snippet of a thing you're working on

“Earthrealm’s champion is a mighty warrior,” Raiden observes, wrapping a cloth bandage around Shang Tsung’s right hand and wrist with firm care. His glowing eyes are downcast, watching his work, his mind a million miles away. The sorcerer recognizes the distance and reaches out with his as-yet unwrapped hand to tilt the thunderer’s chin upward so their eyes meet, bright and dark. There is still that old thrill of excitement, meeting those strange eyes and Tsung is surprised by his own enthusiasm. This is why I keep him around, he tells himself, as if in a last-ditch effort to maintain control over his emotions. Raiden, as no one else in his life, has been able to step effortlessly past the walls the sorcerer has built to protect himself—his mind and heart, so damaged and broken from a young life in the gutters of an unforgiving city—to lay hands upon the deepest parts of him. He fears this, loathes it, in a way, because it symbolizes his ultimate weakness, the largest gap in his otherwise impenetrable armor. Yet he, ever at war with himself, loves it, deeply and completely, craving the nakedness such intimacy brings.

[[MORE]]

“I am also a mighty warrior, old friend,” Shang Tsung reminds Raiden, pressing his lips to the corner of the former deity’s mouth. Raiden does not smile and the gesture is, for once, unable to pull him back from his distraction. The sorcerer begins to wonder if the man has not lived these moments before.  They have spoken little of Raiden’s life before it became entangled with that of his chosen champion and for many years, that had been just fine, a mystery which would reveal itself or which Shang Tsung would unwrap with great care and gentleness, as he had unwrapped the man’s habit on that fateful night just after he had secured Earthrealm’s safety for ten generations. He of insatiable greed cannot, naturally, hold back that curiosity for eternity and soon he will enquire after it. For now, he supposes, speculation will do.

“And you are fighting on behalf of your Emperor,” says Raiden sourly, knowing what has to happen, what must be done in order for time to continue its course. He has had many conversations with Lord Liu Kang on this exact subject and even a few with Shang Tsung, who, upon meeting Shao Kahn, took an immediate interest, if not an outright liking to him. “His tactics,” the sorcerer had declared, “are far too brutal for someone so old; one might have learned subtlety by now.” But the subtlety had come from somewhere behind the throne—if Quan-Chi’s brand of mad soul sorcery could be called subtle. In other timelines, Raiden reminds himself, he is insidious; now he is a raving zealot with my father’s head whispering blasphemies to him. But he is still dangerous. By winning the Kahn’s favor in the first tournament, Shang Tsung had ousted Quan-Chi as Shao Kahn’s favorite sorcerer; the great Emperor had even granted Tsung the use of Quan-Chi’s flesh pits, an offer Shang Tsung had graciously accepted out of pure, human curiosity.

It is said—in whispers, mind; no one would speak such a thing aloud—that the Kahn’s lovely daughter, Mileena, had been created here, that she is not his flesh and blood, but a copy of the girl Sindel had borne to Jerrod of Edenia. Shang Tsung’s informants had soon given him even more detail about her creation and the reason behind it. “Evidently,” he had told his divine consort one evening as the breeze became chilly off that weird ocean and they lay together under furs, “that mad fool, Quan-Chi, claimed he had the power of something called an Elder God—that he could reverse death. Sindel’s little Kitana was too far gone, they said, and her mind was in shambles. Clever Quan-Chi used his creation, Mileena, to save the Empress and make himself valuable to the great Kahn. How is that for family melodrama?” The power of the Kahn had been such that no one questioned Mileena’s place at his side and her mother, the queen Sindel, had regrettably gone quite mad and so only wanted a daughter to love and dote upon.

“Yes I am, pet, at your suggestion—or have you forgotten?” Shang Tsung’s grip has not relinquished its hold on Raiden’s chin, but he does not pull away.

“No,” he says quietly, “I have not.” Some things, certain events, must happen in order to keep the sands of time from shifting out of control, Raiden reminds himself. Liu Kang had told him that this is one of those events. The new keeper of time, thankfully, is not so cryptic as Raiden’s own, past self—or doomed future self, as time rolls. On the other hand, he is also not dying.

“Do you regret advising me this way?” Shang Tsung’s hand has slid its way around the back of Raiden’s neck under his hair, which is secured with a simple, but pretty hairpin of gold. The sorcerer’s forehead presses forward and their knees touch as he leans into his lover, drawing strength from their proximity. “It is my right to challenge him, as former champion, and as my island sits between all realms, I can ally myself with whomever I choose, can I not?”

“You can,” breathes Raiden, “and his choice of you as his ally and favored sorcerer has angered Quan-Chi, who now seeks to upset the empire of Outworld.”

Shang Tsung does not speak. This is more than Raiden has ever said about his own machinations. The sorcerer is under no impression that his companion is a true fool or simpleton in any way, but his sincerity often gives that impression, so hearing this side of things thrills him. He would take Raiden right here if his match was not coming up shortly. He may still do so; there can be time for them… there is always time for him.

“Even now, in his fury at the affront to him and therefore to his mad, dark god, he is opening a rift between Outworld and…. Elsewhere.” Raiden’s eyes close and he sighs deeply.

“So his dark god… does exist?” Only now does Shang Tsung interpose his voice, so curious is he about the goings-on of the divine aspects of a world which has known few gods. Raiden sighs, shoulders sagging. He signals for his champion’s other hand and it drops gently and obediently from the back of his neck to his lap. Shang Tsung flexes the other one, testing its strength carefully, drawing away from Raiden to sit up straight and regard him intently.

“Yes,” Raiden says eventually, “he is—a remnant of a… dead timeline.”

Shang Tsung feels his heart beat a little more quickly then. Timelines and worlds apart from his own—what riches and knowledge such a thing must hold. But dead? How can a timeline die? How can a world die? Aside from merging with another, a realm can never cease to exist, can it? He makes a mental note to check his library for any old texts which might hint at such a thing, though he is fairly certain if he possessed such a tome, he would remember it.

“And this rift?”

“Could be disastrous for Outworld, but its opening will ensure the Shokan people never ally with Shao Kahn, forcing him to rely upon the Tarkatan tribes as his foot soldiers. They are mighty and many, but…”

The lack of prince Goro in the next tournament ensures long life for Kung Lao, the soft-spoken, humble choice of Lord Liu Kang. A Tarkatan champion might be a worthy foe, but they, at least, only have two arms apiece. This shifts the sands of time, but not beyond Lord Liu Kang’s ken and control. Shang Tsung still fights for Outworld and Kung Lao still faces him. “And if the Tarkatan are allied to the throne of Outworld, the Osh-Tekk will not be; that is an old feud, and a bloody one.”

“So, my sweet, gentle emissary has a few schemes in him, does he?” Shang Tsung’s voice is a purr as Raiden passively finishes wrapping his hand and wrist.  

“A few,” Raiden agrees.

“You are destabilizing an entire realm, o’ exquisite one,” continues the sorcerer. “I admire your ruthlessness.”

Raiden looks up and their eyes meet. Shang Tsung is hungry, his gaze roaming over the thunderer as if the man were utterly naked before him. Raiden knows Kung Lao will win—he must, for the sake of the timeline—and knows he will spare Shang Tsung which, in another life, embitters him and sends him limping foolishly back to a pitiless ruler who punishes his failure. This, Raiden knows, is something Quan-Chi would love to see, though the Netherrealm sorcerer’s mind is currently elsewhere. Shang Tsung is not the only one with informants. This time, however, Shang Tsung will not return to Shao Kahn, as his servitude is a ruse. Still, Raiden worries…

That worry presently evaporates as Shang Tsung’s oh-so-clever hands find his thighs beneath the layers of cloth which conceal them and push them gently apart. He is seated on an ornate bench of dark, carved wood, inlaid with mother-of-pearl and shaped with sensual elegance. It is an ideal place for someone as beautiful as Raiden to be seated—or so Shang Tsung opines. The cushion beneath him is comfortable, the best there is, and it supports him pleasantly as his former student drops to his knees between great, powerful thighs, looking up with glittering, obsidian eyes, asking only the permission of the deity-who-was.

“I would offer more,” Shang Tsung asserts with the weight of years and complete devotion dripping honey over every word, “but…” His eyes dart minutely to the door which will lead out and down to the arena for Final Kombat. His look flashes annoyance, as if the event were a mere inconvenience. Right now, it is, of course, and will be treated as such.

Raiden can feel his pulse rising, core beating hard in his broad chest, and a gentle flush of red-gold crossing fine-boned features. A distant rumble of thunder from an unexpected storm whispers of deep, aching desire, but the sorcerer awaits Raiden’s express permission. Coercion will simply not do.

[bastardsunlight]

For your married muses: What was really transition from partner to spouse like? Did anything fundamentally change about your relationship?

I have a few so hold onto your butts.

[[MORE]]

Master Sergeant Rex “Sandman” Price nee Rogers

“The marriage actually came after the… rest of it… Had to. Fraternization.” He lifts the stump of an arm, too lazy today to wear his prosthesis. “We stopped shootin’ at people, for starters and I got my ass out of Humvees for good. I swear if I never see another one of those shitboxes it’ll be too soon.”

He looks around surreptitiously for the presence of either of his daughters, to ensure they’ve not heard him using foul language.

Piccolo Jr.

He thinks back to the wedding, when it had all become real to him. What had started out as a genuine gesture of solidarity and friendship became his life and his world when he’d laid eyes on the Saiyan Prince. The ceremony itself had been splendid and the reception would have been quite peaceful, had some out-of-town (off-planet) piece of power level-obsessed trash not spoiled it by making a mess of West City mid cake-cutting. The memory brings a smile to the Namekian’s face and he shakes his head.

“No,” he says after a moment. “We just live together now.”

Nathan Christopher Charles “Cable” Summers

“We aren’t married. Wade, please stop signing those divorce papers… ugh…” Pinching the bridge of his nose, the telepath makes a grab for the ream of paper Deadpool is tearfully signing, for some reason, with a splotchy fountain pen. Cable has no idea where he’s found this artifact and is, as usual, just a little impressed—an undertone of his overarching irritation.

Hanzo “Scorpion” Hasashi

“At first, there was little change,” Scorpion admits, “aside from the obvious.” He holds up a hand whereupon a band sits on his ring finger. “The transition—the most important one—occurred when we… when I… retired.”

Surrounded by grandchildren and glowing with pride, it is clear he does not regret this.

The Boy/0.005

“Dolores appeared when I needed her; she was there for me for… shit, half a century? I dunno where I’d be without her. It’s like I… wasn’t there before her and I won’t be here after her.” Is the minuscule assassin drunk and clutching a mannequin? Perhaps.

Daisuke Jigen

He doesn’t know why he agreed to the whole thing—it seems over-the-top, even for Lupin. A fake marriage, ceremony and all, complete with a contract? Well, he can say one thing for his ridiculous friend: the guy never does anything halfway.

“Nah,” he grunts, “it’s all for the payout, as usual.” Oddly enough, he doesn’t sound remotely disappointed with this arrangement. It’s just how they are.

Jessica Rabbit

She thinks about this a moment, pretty, red lips pulling into a pout she cannot help. Finely-plucked brows knit delicately and she makes a musical “hm” sound as she considers this. “What was the transition?” She considers this. “Now I get to wake up next to the man who makes me laugh.”

Jonathan “Johnny Cage” Carlton

“I’ve been married a couple times, and honestly the biggest change—if you’re not a total jackass—is that life’s not about you anymore. It can’t be… ‘specially if there’s a kid in the picture.” In his wallet are a pile of pictures of Cassie and Jacqui as children. The two had been inseparable and he can’t help thinking of the latter as his, in a way.

Loki Laufeyson

“Marriage is a bargaining chip,” he informs the faceless individual. He can respect the shapeshifting ability that has disabled his detection of their identity and right now, expending any kind of energy to actually figure out who they are feels like a cost he does not want to pay. “Nothing changes but the locale… Hmm, and my influence”

Matthew Horner

“The erh… first time, I didn’t even realize it.” He is loathe to recount the events of that fateful night of what he thought was a relatively innocent poker game which led to his marriage arrangement with Mira Han. Flushing deeply, he recounts a bit of the story of his second (and current) marriage.

“I think it really set in when Valerian—err, the Emperor—said he would take mylast name. Imagine that, the son of a merchant from Tyrador IX of all places…” He can’t help chuckling at this innocent picture he’s painted of himself, leaving out the hijacking of Hyperion and all the rebel activity that has made up the most exciting and instrumental parts of his life. “I can’t really put my finger on what changed when we finally said ‘I do’, but it felt like the ground was gone under my feet and the sky was… just so much brighter.”

Valerian Horner nee Mengsk

“When I dealt with Mira Han for Matthew’s hand, I knew that there were no lengths to which I would not go to have him. She knew it too.” His chuckle is wry. “And she took me for much, but it wasn’t nearly a fraction of what I’d have given up… for him. When we were wed, I realized, reallyunderstood that I didn’t have to be my father—that I don’t ever have to pretend to that throne. He’s helped me forge my own and I will always be grateful to him for that.”

Noctis Lucis Caelum

“I’m not—wh… I’m not married. I… not yet! I’ll marry Luna, soon… I think…” Noctis seems unsure of this, not unwilling but certainly not the elated bridgroom one might expect. His thoughts turn to the Galahdi hand-fasting ceremony, to the scant witnesses, the very few who know of the young prince’s most dangerous indiscretion, though Nyx Ulric is an indiscretion he will make over and over, if given the chance. His heart still beats fast in his chest when their eyes meet, but their liaisons are still secret, their love still hidden from the public eye.

Rayden *arranged Marriage AU because I like this one

“I’m a god now, so that’s new.” He snickers, grinning mischievously in the sorcerer’s direction. The myriad of lewd comments and stories he could tell are threatening to burst forth, but he holds them back, like a heavy thunderhead, waiting to rain its contents on the anticipatory ground below.

“I didn’t know Tsung before this, but to his credit, he mad a good effort at pretending I had a choice in the whole thing.” Rayden shrugs indifferently, as if being pitched between realms as a bargaining chip is a normal occurrence. “The little Kahn done fucked up, as you Earthrealmers say.”

Sherlock Holmes

“Not a thing,” he responds succinctly. “Watson and I have always had a companionable relationship. That has not changed one iota, nor, I think, will it. Now, if you will excuse me…” He is neither impolite nor brusque, but clipped, as if his mind is elsewhere and, as usual, it is. Tossing on a coat, the consulting detective disappears out the door of his rooms at 221B, likely on another adventure which his companion will summarily catalogue.

Solid Snake

“Otacon… he… hhnn… in a way I can’t describe, he completes what I was missing. I didn’t know what I could be until I met him.” He recalls vividly their first meeting, the fear, the friendliness… Otacon had been an utterly unique individual in his life, someone unlike any person he had ever met. How was he to know that they were the memetic legacy of their forefathers? At the time, he hadn’t. Now that he does, Philanthropy fights to be everything they were not. “He asked me if love could bloom on the battlefield and I… didn’t have a good answer for him—or… maybe I did, then, but now I’d say that is has to—for people like us, it has to. In a way, then, I think we were married before he asked me… and the only thing that changed was a ring and a promise made aloud that was always there, from the moment we left Shadow Moses.”

Takashi “Shiro” Shirogane

“I think we just.. said what we’d been feeling for a while. The ‘I do’ made it real, but…” Shiro shrugs broad shoulders. “It was always there. Keith’s my best friend—my oldest one—and he knows me, sometimes better than I know myself. I’m… I wasn’t the same without him and I’m better with ‘im.”

Raiden *restored timeline

“My shame…” He thinks a moment, deep, gentle blue eyes closing in pensive consideration. Breathing deeply, settled in a large, ornately-carved chair with a toddler asleep in his lap, Raiden speaks quietly, delicately, so as not to wake her. “I… learned to allow myself to desire and be desired… Tsung tried for years to show me, but his willingness to relinquish the relative freedom of being unattached, well… it made me realize what I was worth to him… and he to me.”

Ulfric Stormcloak

“It isn’t something we can display and… Jorleif assures me he understands, that it does not vex him… but it vexes me. We have always been friends, always been close—we stood before Mara and her priests and told them as much, but we cannot yet stand before our people and say the same, not until this war is over and we need not fight for succession.” That Ulfric has no heir is a point of contention in Skyrim and a point of leverage for the Empire. Rumors have circulated and, despite the overall indifference of the people of Tamriel, certain conventions must be observed and maintained.

Yasuo

“Nope. We went from kicking each other’s asses and fucking to kicking each other’s asses and fucking with rings.” He holds up a hand, knuckles bloodied, mischievous grin on his pretty, if swollen, lips. A gold band reflects with a lusty sparkle. His casual response belies the deep, abiding devotion Yasuo feels toward the Vastayan bastard. In a life of feeling cast out and poorly-fitted to most situations, he has finally found a place and a home.

Kang Lao *games nee Kung

“My name,” he responds simply, “and with it, the burden of that legacy.” It is not traditional for one spouse to give up their name, necessarily, in favor of the other, because of devotion to family and clan. Kung is a name he has happily shed, however, in favor of the name of a nobody of unknown origin and no family whatsoever, save a matronly thunder deity.

Kung Lao *MK2021

“We have a cell together,” he explains, “and we need not pretend we are not what we are.” He gestures, indicating that nebulous, inexplicable thing which is between himself and Kang. To explain it is to cheapen it, the grand champion feels.

Mileena

“The transition? Certainly. Tanya showed me what I am… and that I am beautiful.” Mileena’s past is fraught with violence and confusion, bafflement and rejection. All she has ever wanted is to be accepted and loved and with Tanya, the queen Kahnsort, she has that. Of course, Tanya had always been of this opinion, that Mileena is a goddess of grace and beauty, but for some reason, her verbal affirmation of it coming in the form of a marital oath had been the ultimate tipping point.

Mordecai

“Did it on a dare. Lil said we wouldn’t—we were too chicken shit.” He sneers, spitting. “Showed ‘er.” In essence, therefore, nothing has really changed and Lilith had simply grown tired of Tina’s Mordy-Mom and Brick-Poppa pretending that’s not what they were. Her next step would be to dare them to adopt her, insofar as legal adoptions can take place on a lawless planet like Pandora.

[bastardsunlight]

TRUTH + Raiden, how did you feel after resurrecting Scorpion, then falling in love afterwards? I thought you were immune fo such carnal temptations for you are of a divine being.

“I am immortal, not immune to… what was it? Carnal temptations?” There is laughter in the thunder god’s voice and the ghost of a smile on a face unaccustomed to levity. Shaking his head, he raises a hand. “No, no… whoever gave you that idea knows little and less of gods.”

He thinks about the first question, mulling it over and taking his time as only those who havetime can truly do. Inscrutable, luminous eyes give nothing away of his thoughts as he does this, examining each angle, every single facet of his relationship with the mortal-turned-wraith known as Scorpion.

“I think that I felt… some modicum of peace, contentment… or perhaps even joy—he… is good for me, I think.” I do not know if I am good for him, but I will be selfish for once and not ask. Not yet.

Truth serum!!

[bastardsunlight]

Raiden, you are a vision of beauty.

So forward, he thinks, and in a shape I do not recognize. Raiden regards the stranger and then meets their eyes. He knows those eyes, dark and searching, glittering like obsidian, no matter the face.

"Why the subterfuge, Tsung? You have no need to convince me any mortal finds me attractive... I care little." He tilts his head, a gentle smile playing across dignified features. "But if it is a game you desire, then tell me the rules, or I will invent them."

Chaste and prudish as Raiden seems, he is a god and has lived eons longer than even an ageless sorcerer can fathom. He has a certain sharp cleverness to him, a ruthlessness that he rarely shows. Electricity dances across his form and he raises a dark brow.

"You have said it yourself, Sorcerer; I am not terribly creative..."

[bastardsunlight]

“It is with a kiss that I taste a drop of eternity, old friend.” Shang Tsung @ Raiden

“I wish I could give you the rest,” Raiden whispers, pressing his forehead to his husband’s, shifting under their luxurious bedding. The nights have grown colder, but not so cold that the balcony doors are not open. The breeze wafts in gently, but they are safe here, under blankets and even a few furs, gifts from supplicants.

A translucent, golden barrier hovers protectively around a bassinet that can only be described as opulent, wherein a beautiful child slumbers. Liu Kang sleeps, mercifully leaving her parents to themselves, to their words of affection, their thoughts, their lamentations.

He kisses Tsung again, deeper this time, longer, slower, communicating everything in the gesture and that which follows.

[bastardsunlight]

The world flooded etching streaks of crimson thunder and smoke, emitting from the Sky Temple. Perhaps certain two individuals were engaged in a certain vigorous endeavors one should find rather viscerally destructive in their shared unfurling. Lord Raiden, care to explain what just took place? (Heat thunder)

“I do not.” His face bears the ghost of a satisfied smile, but from under the brim of his broad hat, who can say?

ask my muse personal questions

[bastardsunlight]

Heated stare + consent is sexy (either to Raiden or Johnny)

4. [heated stare] - Your muse gazes heatedly at mine, clearly undressing them with their eyes.

Scorpion is eloquent, even without words. His inscrutable eyes rove up and down the thunder god’s body, not slowing or stopping when it is clear Raiden is aware of his scrutiny. Maintaining his impassive facade, the deity concludes his business with the Wu-Shi instructors, bidding farewell to Liu Kang and his cohort before returning the fiery wraith’s side. He has accepted Hanzo’s offered services as something of an escort as he moves about Earthrealm, albeit reluctantly. After the incident on Shang Tsung’s island, Scorpion has decided where his loyalties lie and that it is not a worthy risk to leave the Protector of Earthrealm unprotected himself, divine or not.

“Fortunate that the Shaolin cannot read your expression as I can, Hanzo,” Raiden chides, albeit without vehemence. They have grown close in their time together and guarding is not the only thing Scorpion has discovered he is permitted to do with Raiden’s body.

11. [consent is sexy] - Your muse asks permission to touch mine below the waist, above or beneath clothing.

He knows Johnny’s history, especially that of the recent past, and so when they share dinner and a few glasses of wine, Hanzo Hasashi is careful to move slowly, regardless of Johnny’s haphazard groping.

“C’mon, man, where’s that fire? I don’t wanna walk straight tomorrow,” Johnny whines, arms about Hanzo’s neck. The Shirai-Ryu grandmaster finds himself at a temporary loss for words as he contemplates how best to explain himself. Johnny clicks his tongue and would likely check his watch if he were in such a position to do so.

Instead of trying to justify each motion, Scorpion elects instead to slide one hand down Johnny’s body, his shirt half-unbuttoned, pants in the same state, resting long, dexterous fingers upon the waistband of the actor’s jeans.

“May I?” The assassin’s whisper sets something ablaze inside Johnny Cage and he feels his hips push forward into the touch as he nods, muttering something that sounds like “please” in Hanzo’s ear as he clings tightly to his fellow kombatant. Satisfied only then with the permission given, Scorpion’s hand slides down below the man’s waistline, grasping him in one warm hand and crushing their lips together, swallowing the moan and relishing in his strange beloved’s flavor.

I will never let anything happen to you again,Hanzo pledges inwardly as his hand begins gently to move. He feels the motion of hips against his touch and knows he is doing right, but that old fear still hovers about. Never again.

Sexual Attraction/Attention Prompts

[bastardsunlight]

Shang Tsung @ Raiden: “Nothing so crude as an ‘umf’ will suit my tastes in enlightening you as to what divine looks you possess, pet. You’ll simply have to settle for… An alternative lexicon, if you will.” The serpent is upon his thunderous lover, drawing the taller deity into a languid kiss.

Somehow, Tsung is always able to wrap his coils firmly, yet gently, about the elemental such that he does not even realize he has been ensnared until the venom of his tongue violates the barrier of Raiden's lips. But what a sweet, desirable violation it is. He leans into it, wrapping his arms about the sorcerer and holding him close, tight, knowing that in every other timeline of their existence, this is impossible, and relishing its rarity.

send UMF if you think my muse is hot

[bastardsunlight]

SUP thunderleg, I hear you’re collecting babies now. I sure hope you know how to deal with the terrible twos because that new one you got screeches fire when he’s upset

"I am well aware, brother..." Raiden's eyes narrow, "what did you say your name was?" He has a small child, barely eighteen months old, in his arms, lying over one shoulder. Raiden's large hand is patting the little thing's back 'til it burps and it does, indeed, burp fire. This time, nothing caustic comes up, but that could change. There is a soft, scorched blanket resting upon he thunder god's shoulder, underneath Liu Kang's little body, cushioning him from Raiden's armor, and cushioning Raiden's armor from him.

[bastardsunlight]

A Liu Kang not unlike any other approaches the Thunder God in his meditation, careful so as not to lay hands on the man as he descends into a mirror of his pose. There are many questions within this one, voice barely above a whisper as the concern written into his young face.

“Father… Are you alright?”

“I am, Liu Kang,” comes the quiet response, one eye opening, and then the other. He looks upon this young man whom he has taken under his tutelage—whom he has raised from infancy—and realizes with a pang of something, perhaps grief, that he is a man grown, no longer a child, no longer a being he can or shouldshelter and protect. It is not Liu Kang’s destiny to stay in the shadow of Raiden’s protection.

It is his destiny to fight, to kill, perhaps to die and he can never know this, right up until the moment of his end. I pray the Elder Gods grand me myend first, his thoughts add after a moment, knowing his own selfishness and abhorring it, because I cannot bear to witness his, knowing I am the cause.

“You seem burdened.”