#cower before me mortals

[weak-password-haver]

I have recently started playing TOTK and I am proud to announce that I have beaten phantom Gannon with not but 7 shrines to my name!

[insertcoolnameherethanks]

I hate when I get cat called, but a part of my soul gets restored when I turn and glare and they apologize immediately and leave

[pixieluver]

YES. YES. COWER BEFORE ME, MORTAL. [ og post ]

[hxney-lemcn]

Ancient Love — deity! Malleus Draconia x gn! reader

summery: you find yourself blessed by the God of magic, don't worry dear reader, he'll take care of you.

tw: mentions of death (he speculates about you growing old). Power dynamics once again (he is a literal god so...yeah).

a/n: another deity au fic. Idk why it's got me in its grasp at the moment. Once again, props to @ceruleancattail for the au. also ik in Greek myths gods 'loving' humans was a reoccurring thing but still, for the sake of this fic its taboo.

wc: 0.8k

Master List

This was wrong. Taboo. So why did it feel so right? Why did you long for him to run his fingers through your hair, or to caress your skin? Why did he give in to your wishes? Malleus, the long forgotten deity of magic and creatures of the night has graced your being time and time again. You had stumbled upon his shrine, the old temple crumbling from centuries of decay and erosion. The gargoyles had stared down on you as you entered, depictions of dragons, reptiles and bats laid upon a mural with the paint cracking. Unlike most ancient temples that are uprooted, this one held no statue, only an altar with melted candles, bones, and decaying papers that you could barely make out. 

Malleus showed himself after your third visit. You hadn’t come to worship him, but instead to document the crumbling temple and what his old followers had come to him for. So what better than to speak to the God himself? At first he didn’t tell you who he was, not wanting you to look at him differently or to scare you off. You always had an inkling of doubt about the mysterious man. He had come from seemingly nowhere and his attire was outdated, not to mention he talked more regal than what you were used to, but you didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Malleus on the other hand found you quite amusing. You were unknowingly speaking to one of the most powerful ancient gods yet you spoke to him like any other mortal. He had always been a lonely God, even when he was in his prime he wasn’t as popular as the others. He didn’t offer prosperity, love, or good harvest. People feared him and his ability, humans weren’t too fond of magic and came to him for protection from curses or evil spirits. So you, a mortal who didn’t cower in front of him had his heart melting. Your curiosity about him, his temple, his powers, and his past had him rambling for as long as you’d let him. 

Don’t question why you feel safer at night, or how bats and reptiles are more fond of you. Don’t question why people who wrong you never treat you terribly again or how you always feel watched when the moonlight shines down upon you. Unlike how Malleus was portrayed, he was a deity who cared about his people, and you had wormed your way into his heart. Yet he found himself loving you on a level he’s never had before. Your smile warmed his chilled bones, your laughter was better than any prayer he’d received before, your love greater than any worship he’d ever had.  

A deity falling for a mortal was taboo. It was wrong. It goes against all boundaries. Gods were better than mortals, they were stronger, more powerful. A God's only purpose was to be worshiped, they were not the ones to worship. So why, why did Malleus find himself wanting to bow before you, wanting to pray for your love and care, for you to never leave his side. When you found out his true identity at first you were flabbergasted, you had been speaking to a deity this entire time…but that soon fizzled when you realized he was still the same person you had been talking to. 

You found yourself in the ancient shrine more and more with Malleus’ fingers tangled in your hair as he explained why gargoyles stood post throughout his temple. Or the nights that you both shared under the stars as he explained the meanings of old constellations that had shifted over time. Or when he wrapped you in his embrace when you found yourself with troubles, wishing he could fix everything for you so you never had to shed a tear again. Yet he found himself enjoying the moments you brought him gifts, not out of worship, but out of care. Or when you’d be the one to caress his face, or how your hands always seemed to wander towards his horns but stopped an inch short. Or the moments your eyes would take him in and you’d murmur his praises that he always managed to hear. 

Over time, Malleus started to think of your future. Even though you were nothing like his past followers, you would meet the same fate. Your hair will turn either gray or white, your skin will start to sag and droop, your mind will deteriorate, and one day you’ll return to the Earth. A fate that tore his heart apart. He knew he was thinking selfishly, but he wanted to keep you by his side. He wanted to be with you until time ended, and even then, he’d find a way to be with you. And as a deity, there was a way to turn you immortal, to raise your title of mere mortal to deity. You both could rule the empty temple together, taking care of the geckos and bats that resided there. 

What do you say, dear? Won’t you rule by his side for eternity?

[messiahzzz]

i have seen several posts around that addressed how discouraging gale from taking the crown of karsus is “keeping him from realizing his true potential.” that tara is merely upset at his choice, instead of being utterly devastated at the loss of her little love. that it’s not a bad ending per se because to get there he didn’t need to sacrifice 7000 innocent souls in the process. gale isn’t continuing the cycle of abuse either, he still appears to love tav and does come back for them to offer them ascension. he wants them to be equal, so it can’t possibly be an unhealthy dynamic, right?

but what of gale himself, his own convictions, values, and everything he holds dear? everything flawed and human that shaped him into the person he is?

player: are you saying you want to ascend? claim godhood?

gale: no, not like that. i don't want to join them. i want to better them. a god's powers, paired with a mortal conscience, a mortal heart.

gale’s motivation for acquiring godhood is that he will able to aid mortals in a way no other god has ever done before. he won’t hide behind pretense nor require blind devotion of his followers. he will understand and be able to empathize. he wholeheartedly believes that he will be different - he will act.

gale: [..] the gods could aid us if they wished, but instead they cower behind ao. so let us act ourselves.

gale believes that by becoming a god he will kill two birds with one stone: aid mortals and acquire enough power to quash any of his insecurities and enemies in the process. that by ridding himself of every perceived flaw he'll finally feel like he will have enough to offer - maybe, just maybe he'll even be content. his flaws are merely holding him back from becoming the best version of himself, and by ridding himself of everything fallible, he will be whole. maybe this is what all of his suffering has led up to. maybe the orb chose him. maybe the reason he had to endure all the pain, isolation, and excruciating loneliness was so that he could realize that he was meant for something even greater. after all, power feeds ambition. and what is more powerful than a god? his convictions were certainly naive, he possesses enough knowledge to know better. don't get me wrong, part of him definitely wants to spite mystra a lil. but his intentions at that time were mostly pure. a reflection of his self-hatred and feelings of inadequacy.

player: this is wrong, gale. that power will corrupt you, even if you can seize it.

gale: it won't, i swear to you. it's merely a tool - a means to an end.

once we meet gale at the party in his new godlike form, it is apparent that even with all the power at his fingertips, he has reached no greater knowledge about himself. his insecurities are still as present as before, he merely is less subtle in his compensation - repeatedly highlighting his grandeur and how dull life on faerun is compared to the wonders of elysium. it is also genuinely crushing to see how little he thinks of himself even now.

gale: i was nothing. a drifting dust mote of a wizard, abandoned by my goddess, my powers lost, my reputation destroyed. and look at me now. i'm their proof.

any perceived dismissal of his Greatness™ is met with immediate disdain.

gale: a bold decision to treat a divine being with such cold indifference.

nodecontext: aloof, annoyed you weren't impressed with him

gale: you mortals do love to live dangerously, don't you?

nodecontext: the slightest hint of a threat - you've probably made an enemy here today. or at least, you've lost a friend.

he is still desperate to impress. emphasizing what an honor it is that a new-born god chose to bless their little soiree with his presence. gaze upon all his divine glory! gale has now become the embodiment of everything he criticized about the gods. his original intentions and plans are discarded and long forgotten. he assuages his erstwhile companions by telling them to simply pray to him, in case they should ever require aid. if they're lucky and their ambition pleases him, he might even deliver.

player: what does the 'god of ambition' offer to his followers?

gale: i 'offer' them nothing. i inspire them to seize their destinies for themselves.

player: interesting, so you help mortals help themselves?

gale: precisely. though that isn't to say i'm averse to the odd bit of direct encouragement.

gale: [..] my aims are set a little higher than offering cursory blessings to just any half-decent spellcaster.

gale: regardless, ethical quandaries are more the remit of my mortal devotees. they do love to talk, and faerun is starting to listen.

aiding "any half-decent spellcaster" is unbefitting of his status. he isn't concerned with questions of ethics and morality either. deeming such matters beneath his divine capabilities.

once gale has ascended and established his domain, what remains of the gale we knew? what of his mortal heart?

minthara: your ambition is not cruel, but you fear that if you indulge it, you will lose yourself in the mysteries of the weave and unravel the world.

minthara: you are afraid of so many things, and it is that fear that keeps you true to yourself.

gale did lose himself and ultimately became one of his biggest fears. considering that his existence as a being of pure ambition leads him to constantly seek out greater heights, it isn't farfetched to believe that raphael's prediction will indeed come true.

player[astarion]: ambition? finally, a god i can get behind...

gale: i assure you, this is merely the prelude to a far grander vision. elysium's in for something of a shake-up.

all that remains of gale is a thin veneer of the person he used to be. what he presents is a hollow echo of the old gale. he does retain some of his mannerisms and quirks, but he is definitely a lot colder and more condescending. if his personality already changed that drastically after a duration of only 6 months, what will he inevitability turn into when he has eternity at his disposal?

essentially, you are aiding gale in the eradication of himself. eradicating everything about him that made him into the loveable, charismatic, awkward, kind, buoyant person he was. everything about him that he perceived as defective, flawed, and lesser-than. before, his hubris was merely an expression of his own discontentment and low self-worth, but now he is hubris incarnate. all of his worst qualities have been amplified.

gale: i am ambition incarnate. as indistinguishable from that most potent sensation as mystra herself is from the weave. and word is spreading.

nodecontext: palpable, almost unsettling excitement from him - hint of megalomania

he put his trust in tav, trusting their judgment and relying on them to nudge him in the right direction. after all, they had plenty of opportunities to show him that they are an ally worth following and confiding in. but in the end, the prospect of what he could be, the things he could give them, the enemies he could yet conquer, won over the desire to simply accept him and help him rebuild a life on solid ground. tav denied him the unconditional love he craves most out of their own selfish desires.

tara: you were looking out for him. i expected better of you.

as i've already mentioned, gale desires nothing more than to be seen, accepted, loved, and valued. having a partner who wholeheartedly supports and believes in him is enough to make him feel content. most importantly - he just wants to live. to enjoy life with everything it has to offer. his ambition can’t be quenched because he hungers still. believing that only by acquiring more power will he finally be enough and reach said acceptance.

we see in his good ending that his own contentment was even able to influence and (temporarily) sate the orb's ever-present hunger:

gale: [..] or perhaps the orb's hunger was fuelled by my own, and my contentment influences it in much the same way.

gale: that's how i feel with you - content. it's a rather unfamiliar feeling, i must say. not something gale of waterdeep ever craved.

it is devastating that he doesn't reach the same feeling of fulfillment if he chooses to pursue godhood, and is instead compelled to continuously surpass his own accomplishments. not being granted rest or reprieve.

gale: i achieved everything we hoped i would, and still i'm not good enough for you?

gale pursuing godhood isn't evidence that he "has been evil all along" or that he "just waited to be unleashed" either. we can't diminish tav's influence in this outcome, they are after all an extension of the player. able to steer every companion toward a path of redemption or to enable them in their worst traits. fandom has already established that by letting astarion ascend you are actively supporting him in becoming the very thing he despises most, putting your own ambitions and idea of what you want him to be above his healing, this is no different.

tara: the gale i knew wasn't like this. he recognised his mistakes. he was contrite. all he wanted to do was live.

tara: unfortunately, he fell into company that turned his gaze towards foolishness. yes, i mean you.

player: gale is his own man, tara.

tara: false. he was mine. though now he belongs only to his own pride.

yes, the epilogue cutscene is beautiful and there is something bittersweet and romantic about his love for tav being one of the few emotions that remained a constant throughout the past 6 months. he didn't need to come back for them, but he did cause he loves them still. no matter how warped his definition of love may be now. while it is abundantly clear that tav ranks lower on his priority list than they did before, his commitment remains.

gale fears isolation, hoping to never return to the time when he was hopeless and alone, stuck inside his tower. by heading in this direction he is once again creating a self-fulfilling prophecy.

tara: [..] if i pretended you hadn't turned tail on every lesson you set out to learn, i'd have no right to call myself your friend.

morena may as well have already resigned herself to her son’s death. elminster partly blames himself. for his lapse in judgment, as well as being the one who plucked him from obscurity in the first place. mourning the kind, bright-eyed boy who cried at the scorched roses in his neighbor's garden. tara won't be here anymore to care and look out for him either. he has lost his oldest and dearest friend, the one who witnessed his downfall from grace and never left his side. who believed him to be the finest mind AND the finest wizard she's ever had the pleasure to know. who was certain that he’d find a way out of any crisis no matter the circumstances. ...and if tav declines his offer to ascend with him? what does he have left?

gale: yes, i am rather radiant, aren't i?

tara: don't flatter yourself, gale. you've debased yourself in ways i could never have fathomed.

tara: goodbye gale, i hope the heavens are worth it.

gale’s godhood ending deals with the loss of humanity, the loss of oneself, and everything one holds dear. it is a devastating and bone-chilling narrative. it is a tragedy.

gale: i hope you don't think less of me. great ambition should not come at the expense of what you already hold dear. i see that now.

if gale could see himself, he would be horrified at the losses he deemed necessary to get here. he would be horrified at what he’s become.

[rayveneyed]

cw: sexually explicit content / blood / relatively light sadomasochism / age + experience gap (reader is older + more experienced) / sub!choso / vampires 🧛‍♀️ / sex and violence as two sides of the same coin /

choso kamo is 160 years old when he meets you.

in those years of walking the earth, undead, he believes he’s embraced his vampirism as much as he possibly can. the broiling self-hatred he had once found solace in has reduced to a simmer, strongest in those moments of blood and guts and weakening heartbeats; and although he often avoids crowds, and companionship, and light, he no longer believes himself to be a slave of his own nature.

to be true — in the grand scheme of immortality, of vampirism — he isn’t anywhere close to the level of control he’d wish to have. often, when indulging yuji’s desire to enjoy the world as he did before his death — boardwalks and arcades and cotton candy — he feels his canines aching in his gums, stretching until they dimple against his bottom lip.

it’s not comfortable. it’s not confident. but even despite the growing aches, he’s no longer cowering in alleyways; no longer drinking from poor stray cats and garbage-chewing rats to momentarily satiate that ever-growing, gnawing hunger. he has some sense of control—

“oh, you baby-bats. so adorable.”

control which he now flounders to grab.

a sharp, inky black nail scrapes up the column of his neck — he can’t help but arch into it, head tilting back until his wide, pupil-blown eyes find the ceiling, with its intricate coving and obsidian chandeliers. the music from the main hall is nothing but a buzzing in the back of his head; thoughts of his friends’ whereabouts, an afterthought. your fingernail crowds the underneath of his jaw and stops at where his pulse point would have thrummed, would he have been alive.

you’re a demon. a devil. a she-beast. a succubus. any horrid, terrible name he could call you, he will — dressed in blacks and burgundies and gold older than him, your lips painted an ox-blood red and your eyes as sharp and dark as any polished knife. in your hands he is small. weak. mortal.

“satoru usually keeps his strays away, after last time,” you say, pouting now, though it’s a crude approximation of sadness — even now, your eyes glint with devilment. “so mean, when he knows i have a weak spot for bats like you.”

that wretched finger stretches up; pokes at his bottom lip, scrapes against the fangs that had — embarrassingly — extended from his gums at the simple weight of you on top of him.

“look at that,” you coo, and your grin is something unsettling, something that curdles in the pit of his stomach and heats between his legs. “excited, pup?”

his answering breath comes ragged, and it’s always more embarrassing than it was when he was human. his heart doesn’t work, his lungs do not work, and he has no need to breathe — in fact, he lost the reflex to do so around 92 years ago — but his brain is scrambled, it seems, wilted neurons confusing signals from almost two centuries ago. “i’m — ahem — i’m okay, duchess.”

“how sweet. you don’t have to call me by my title, you know. my name will do just fine.” at his silence, you push yourself up from where you’d been laying low against his chest — looking far too excited when you say: “unless, of course, you like it.”

his hands tremble at his side. he can’t remember the last time he’s indulged in — in debauchery. the last time someone’s made him feel like they’re holding his heart in their hands. over the past hundred-odd years, he’s avoided it like the plague, and for good reason — most vampires aren’t known for their commitment, let’s just say. and now you’re on top of him looking like every sin he’s tried to avoid, and he’s straining so hard in his pants he fears he’ll cum before you even hint at removing a single article of clothing.

you press yourself flush again, nosing at his neck. he knows, for the first time in his long life, what it feels like to be prey. is this what his victims had felt when he ripped into their throats, young and inexperienced and bloodthirsty? did their vulnerability sit like a stone in their throats?

a groan comes from you, suddenly, and your tongue darts out to lave against his skin. choso’s answering moan is more of a whimper, broken and weak in his mouth, but you don’t seem to notice — or care. he flexes his glutes in an effort to stop himself from rutting up against you — not only would it be embarrassing, desperate, but it would be rude. this is your house, after all. your soirée. your gilded halls and bedazzled walls. your silk sheets against his back. your satin skirt bunched around your waist.

“tell me, pup,” you say, and he fights the instinctual reflex to shiver at the brush of your lips against his skin, “have you ever fed from our own?”

“hm?” it’s a sound of confusion brought half on by his simple lack of knowledge, and half on by his slow-processing brain. only seconds after does he fully register your question, and the eyes he hadn’t realised he had screwed shut flew open. “no. i — i didn’t know that was possible.”

all at once, you’re sitting up again — swinging your leg over his hips until you’re standing. it wouldn’t be right to call it clambering — you are impossibly graceful, even passed the agility and elegance that comes with the gift of the undead. his hands reach for you before he can stop them, a sound like a question on his tongue, and you send him the sweetest, most tooth-rotting, stomach-turning smile. he thinks he likes your biting, cruel grins more, though you’re lovely regardless.

you begin to reach for the ties of your corset at your spine — just another thing that makes his mouth water. people didn’t wear these sorts of clothes anymore, not in the human world. but he remembers the skirts and corsets from paintings of noblewomen hundreds of years ago, and how he’d admire the curve of their waists, the swell of their chests—

“of course, satoru wouldn’t tell you. why would he?”

his eyes snap up from your chest, caught with his hand in the cookie jar. but you don’t seem to mind. the corset is removed painfully slowly, for no other reason than to torture him; then, the outer dress, with its carmine satin and intricate embroidery. you throw it to the floor carelessly, as if the most knowledgeable museum curators wouldn’t prostrate themselves at your feet for the simple chance to display it for millions to see — a while his eyes drink up the sight of more skin, the whisper of form beneath your underdress and bloomers, you near him once more.

metal to a magnet, a moth to flame, he pulls himself to the edge of the bed. you find a place between his legs and grasp his chin, and choso can’t look away from you.

“i can take you apart and put you back together,” you say — promise — voice like crushed velvet, quiet and creeping like a choking vine. your thumb smooths over his cheek and ends at its apple, where you press the sharp tip of your nail into his flesh. “i can show you the pleasures of your eternal life, and its pains, and everything in between. i can bring you to every edge, and draw you back from them just as quick — and it will be painful, and you’ll enjoy it so much you won’t be able to go another day without it.”

he’s lost the ability to speak. his unmoving heart is in his throat — or in your hands, or between your sharp teeth. you tilt your head and regard him with knowing, twinkling eyes.

“all you have to say, pup, is yes.”

oh, it’s out of him so quick he can hardly keep up — a word so breathy you’d swear you’d already had your way with him. but embarrassment is a thing of the past when your smile stretches, and you murmur marvellous. you release him from your grasp, much to his chagrin, but when you begin pulling down your bloomers his attention shifts.

he can smell you. smell you. the musky, salty scent of between your legs — a smell that has his mouth watering and his fingers cramping from how hard he fists the sheets. your bloomers are damp when you discard them, sticky with your arousal, and pride glows in choso’s chest. he didn’t do much, but it seemed enough — if he had only let himself lose control, hump up against you harder, perhaps it would’ve stained his clothes; seeped through your layers and onto his lap. he’d go home and hold it over his nose until the scent faded, and perhaps after.

“new as you are,” you say, climbing onto your bed once more and reclining back against the numerous pillows — huffing a mean-sounding laugh when he crawls after you. “i’ll do you the mercy of taking it easy, just this once. oh, don’t make that face — you look like a kicked puppy. i promise you’ll enjoy what i have in store for you.”

and you hike up your underdress, and spread your legs. choso’s mouth waters — the thick smattering of hair on your mons, your flower-like labia, shiny with your arousal. and your clit, peeking out from its hood, pink and shiny and begging to have his mouth on it. but as if this wasn’t enough — as if he wasn’t already scrabbling to get between your legs — you take one of those long, sharp nails, and drag it against your inner thigh. the skin splits. blood trickles down from the wound like a river of gold, flowing into the crease between your thighs and your pussy, and it smells ambrosial. if his fangs were aching before, they’re screaming, now. this isn’t human blood; this is richer, sweeter, creamier. delectable. hedonistic. you’ll make a glutton of him.

“after all,” you say, grinning wickedly, “i’m treating you to a most delectable meal.”

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Hiiii!!!! Uuhh sorry I get a bit awkward to approach new people but oh my god I needed to say that I absolutely love your work!! Im truly a fan!! Your Fierce Deity fics bring me to life and I cant stop thinking about it <333

Not sure if this idea is interesting enough but I cant stop thinking about it and I thought you could maybe like it!!

I keep thinking about Reader talking with the Fierce Deity's mask (imagining he still sealed in the mask) like he was physically there, just rambling. We could show him the sky and the grass, mundane things, talk about our thoughts and ask questions to him, like what is it like to be a god and if he is happy with his life.

One question that also pops a lot in my mind is asking what gods thought of humans or maybe, what he thought of them, of us!! Ofc he doesnt respond bc he is inside the mask but then one day he is off of it and he remembers each and every question we ever asked, and is willing to answer them all NFKENFKWFKWKKFKWKDKW

Its just an idea, you dont really have to do it, but everytime I think about it or Fierce in general, I cant help but also think about you <333

Im really glad I found your work!! I hope we can be friends!! :DDD

I wish you a lovely day my little leaf!! Toodlessss 🍃🍃🍃

𖠰 Woods 𖠰

Okay first of all, this idea this absolutely amazing!! I'll have you know I was practically VIBRATING with excitement while reading this! You have no idea how stoked I am to receive asks like this, so do not feel bad at all for sharing! Also what we're literally already besties <3

Man In The Mask

Pairing: Fierce Deity x Reader

Warning(s): N/A

Masterlist

What are you?

It was a question the Fierce Deity had heard a thousand times, often accompanied by blood and blaze: a question of those he protected... and those he did not, whispered on the heels crimson-dripped lips and frightful eyes. He was a god of war, and thus not one to engage in the folly of mortals. Orders were his foundation, and steel his soul, wrapped in a righteous evil that not even the goddesses could bear to gaze upon.

Which is why he felt nothing short of hedonistic when it fell from the lips of the paltry mortal's holding the wretched mask that trapped him centuries earlier. Voice soft and eyes softer, touch featherlight on the chipped edges of his prison. There were thumbs on the apples of his 'cheeks', and the deity was caught between rage and sorrow. Tumultuous emotions were not his strong suit, and neither was restraint, from the way things were looking.

He didn't need to stand before them to feel their weakness, as was typical of most humans, but there was an ember in your eyes that seemed to burn with a light he didn't dare remember, shining like a beacon in the night.

"I wonder who painted you," the human, you, mused, stroking again over the half-glossed finish of the mask. Gentle, comforting, and utterly indecipherable to the deity inside. "You're so dusty; did Time even polish you?"

Why... Why was that relevant? Never in his wildest thoughts had the Fierce Deity expected Time to intrust his 'care' to a human, much less you. His very existence was a burden; how could a so-called hero willingly place something so... so destructive in the hands of, well, he considered you quite innocent to the tribulations of war and bloodshed and sorrow.

But what could he do but wait, snug under your arm, as you prattled on about anything and everything. The notion that you were naive enough to talk to a mere mask, of all things. Had you no sense? No discretion? It was a question he often asked himself, though only because there was no one else to answer.

That didn't stop his dull wonderings on whether you would ask such questions if he stood before you in the flesh. Would you cower? Fight? Flee? Perhaps he would remember the words that fell from your mouth, just to prove himself right once again.

***

The Fierce Deity mask weighed heavy in your hands as you plodded down the small path towards home. A thick forest bordered you from the east, while a blooming prairie stretched as far as the eye could see from the west. There was no doubt in your mind that you were incredibly lucky to live where you did, a fact that was only exemplified by the nine heroes that had crashed into your life (and living room) through a portal that looked straight out of Coraline or some shit.

Never in a million years would you have expected Time, the distrustful forest child he was, to entrust anything to you, much less a mask that supposedly held the spirit of one of the greatest entities of his world, but you supposed it was only proof that miracles did still exist. Maybe.

Either way, you had taken up the mantle of caring for the mask, and there was no way in hell you were going to screw up. Not that Time would let you, the worrywart, and you were only just beginning to catch him not staring holes into your back.

Chronic mother hens aside, it didn't take a genius to figure out there was something terribly wrong with the item tucked under your arm. Whether it was the crimson and navy facial markings or innocuous radiation of something akin to evil, you had no doubt that Time's warnings were not in jest.

Despite this, you couldn't quite shake the idea of a soul being trapped inside, well, the mask was practically a prison at this point. And maybe, just maybe, you felt a modicum of guilt at the entity's fate. Had he deserved it? Perhaps. Was it cruel? Without a doubt.

Which is why you found yourself taking the Fierce Deity's mask with you when you went to the store, or the library, or simply for a walk in the forest, tucked in your satchel to protect from prying eyes, though you always adjusted the cover so at least one of the eyeholes was free to gaze upon the wonders of your world. It was a small mercy that you were willing to afford, one that quickly spiraled into conversation with the mask itself. You always had a habit of speaking out loud, and now you, presumably, had an ear to listen.

But it was all speculation at this point; Time had never outright confirmed whether a living creature resided within the painted oak, only that it was imbued with an evil so ancient it could challenge the goddesses. You had stopped listening at that point, muttering 'drugs' under your breath, but there was always hope in your tone when you reminisced about the world around you.

With a sigh, you stopped, bringing the mask to the forefront of your vision, thumbs instinctually tracing the crimson stripes on the cheeks. It was baffling that something so beautiful could feel so wrong in your hands. You desperately wished to uncover the truth, to breathe in the big reveal and revel in the known mysteries of life.

"What are you?" The words slipped off your tongue like silk, right enough that you could have chalked it up to fate. The mask felt warm, basked in the fading rays of the golden sun, and you had the distinct feeling of being watched. The pads of your thumbs stroked the raised cheeks of the mask, disturbing a thin layer of dust, as more words spilled forth. "You're so dusty; did Time even polish you?"

It felt strange, talking to the mask as if it was a person, but you were too intrigued to care. If an entity truly resided within, you wondered what he thought of you. Was he impressed? Disgusted? Resigned? You had grown up with the belief that if gods truly existed, their disappointment would be without bounds, but that assumption didn't feel accurate when you stared at the shadowed skin of your palms through the eyeholes.

What horrors had a deity of this caliber seen through eyes of oak... and why were you so desperate to find out?

***

The Fierce Deity was convinced you were either crazy or stupid.

Night had fallen some time ago, filling your small quarters with only the pale light of the moon. His prison sat propped against the contraption you called a 'lamp', facing the bed in which you slept. Your nighttime routine was... unusual, to say the least. In his time, maidens wore long shifts to sleep, while here, you had treated him to the ludicrous sight of what could only be described as the shortest britches he had the displeasure of viewing and a sleeveless rag of a tunic that looked as though you wore it to a scuffle with a large animal, not to mention the sheer audacity you had to undress before the mask without regard for decency. Had the Hero of Time not informed you of his status in this wretched prison, because it was as though you had forgotten or simply didn't care at all?

Whatever the case, it was with much dread that the Fierce Deity only found himself more attracted to the mortal cursed with his care. Your life was, at most, mundane, yet you spoke as though every day was a great adventure, in a tone that could have inspired countless scribes into a flurry of activity. More shocking, however, was how he could feel himself clinging to your every word, like a dog waiting for scraps. He had been alone for so long, and the reality that a mere mortal considered him, well, mortal enough to converse with was a reality he never imagined contesting with.

But, despite how thrown off he was, there was a certain comfort in the quiet nights you spent together, however inadvertently they came to be. After a life of isolation, he found a purpose in the steady rise and fall of your chest, in the snorting giggles of your laughter, and the way you flipped the edge of your pack to grant him sight, never mind that he was fully capable of viewing the world without it. It was for that reason that the rage in his battered soul waned a fraction, leaving a sliver of room for whatever this was, and the reason his mind refused to release thoughts of your whispered queries, always centered on him, whether it be his health, status as a deity, or happiness.

Farfetched as it was, the Fierce Deity, god of war and blood and death, waited hours for you to wake, unblinking because he would be damned to miss the very moment of your return to the land of the living, the languid stretch your body performed as you groaned softly, rubbing the creases of your eyes with the same gentleness you treated him to. He would study the outfits you wore, committing them all to memory so he could better understand the core of who he considered to be his savior. Maybe then, when he was free, he could begin to repay your kindness–bit by bit, word by word–until distance became more of a myth that him, and your tender warmth could be validated by more than just a paltry mask. Your very breath became his meaning, your soul his muse, and the Fierce Deity was sure he would never forget it.

But in the meantime, perhaps he would remember the words that fell from your mouth, just to prove you right once again.

I can't begin to express how beautiful this felt to write. The Fierce Deity truly is my muse.

ALSO there will be a part two, so keep your eyes peeled!

[greenqueenhightower]

Thoughts on the Larys x Aegon Scene in 2x06:

"He executes justice for the fatherless child and the widow."—Deuteronomy 10:18

Larys visits Aegon as he lies on his bed, healing from his injuries. Aegon is most eager to cloud his mind with milk of the poppy, just as his father had done. As he is handed the vial with the drug, Larys assumes the authority of a family member entrusted with Aegon's care. He purposely withholds the drug from Aegon, to instruct him. He wants to instill in him the conviction that he only has his mind to depend on now. Aegon's mind should be sacred to him, just as it is for Larys.

"You have already written yourself into legend. You have survived dragonfire." Larys begins to bore through Aegon's mind. He is not a mere mortal man. He is a legend. Despite his trembling and silent cowering at the sight of his brother, Aegon should not feel completely wasted.

"I came screaming into this world." Larys breaks the news of the extent of his injuries to Aegon. The young King's distraught and mutilated state stirs up something inside him, something that Larys has long kept shut. In response, he does something remarkable; something we've never seen Larys do before: he becomes vulnerable.

"My lungs were strong but my foot so twisted that my father named it sorcery." Breathing heavily, Larys reveals that he, too, was shunned by his father since birth. His deformity was something that Lyonel Strong never came to accept just as Viserys never accepted Aegon as his son and heir. Larys' fate is akin to that of his King. Aegon's grunts of pain stop and he fixes his attention on Larys.

"They will stare at you... or turn away." Aegon and Larys cry together, the wounds of both exposed bare. Larys lets Aegon in on his inner trauma of being despised and disposed of because of his disability. Does Larys fear that Aegon might suffer the same fate by his family? Does he empathize with Aegon's pain because he sees himself in him? Does he want to prepare him for or shield him from the cruel world?

"They will underestimate you... and this will be your advantage." Larys' face hardens as he reveals the bitter truth. Aegon musters up whatever courage he has to exclaim "No!" and shake his head in disbelief.

"Help me. Please." Larys warns Aegon that his life is in danger and he begs for his help. Aegon has come to trust Larys with his life. Has he found an ally and a friend in him? He now wants Larys to protect him. He turns to him like a refuge in a storm. He knows he can depend on him. Like a child pleading with his father, Aegon's eyes plead with Larys.

Larys responds with his determined face and trademark smirk. What will he do to protect his King? One thing is certain: Larys is a ruthless executioner of justice. He has killed his own family, whose eyes so wickedly and hatefully stared at him, for all the injustices inflicted on him. He has tortured and killed all those who betrayed his trust. He is bound to be equally merciless with those who dare touch or thus dehumanize Aegon. Larys assumes the role of father and protector for Aegon, ready to execute his own version of justice for what he cares about.

And apart from himself, Larys has shown that the only other soul he cares to avenge is Aegon.

[yandereanonymous]

Yandere Macaque x Reader ♤♡Romanic♡♤ [M/GN]

TW/CW: Blood (a bit gory), cussing, generally Macaque being extra vengeful and angry, implied kidnapping, slight forced affection

Summary: Macaque watches you from the shadows for years, simply ignoring your monkey king obsession. He pays it no mind until you meet the real Sun Wukong, and he finally snaps.

I love you too much to let you go, darling. My love. My life. You're such a gem.

It all started when you began talking to that golden bastard— that "hero." You never actually met him before, but you were a big fan. It irked me a bit, but I can't fault an innocent creature when they do not know any better. You weren't there. You had no clue what had happened; you were only mortal, after all. It still stung to see your room filled with images of him, but I just sucked it up like I always have to do with those I care about.

But then you met him

Fucking cunt was showing off like he always does— and you adored it. You jumped and cheered when he soared in the clouds. You watched with pure love.

Oh, if you were to take the venom I was spewing in my head whilst encased in shadows as you two laughed together and made it a liquid in a vile to be injected as a neurotoxin, you would be able to kill at least one thousand elephants. How I just wanted to pin that proud piece of shit down and rip up his organs for even considering talking to you, my dear.

And I did. Oh, darling, I tried so hard, I really did. I hate to traumatise you, and I want to burn the heavens down when I see you cry. But I only lasted a couple of months of the agonising torture.

Blood on my hands, seeming into the insides of my claw-like fingernails and the wrinkles on my hands. The taste of iron on my tongue, dripping out my mouth and staining my teeth. I loved to hear him cry. He screamed like the fucking bitch he is. I smiled down at his horribly disfigured face. Not so pretty now, is he love?~

I turned to you, cowering in the corner like a scared puppy. So cute. I picked you up and held you close, ignoring how loud her screams and cries were. If listening to your scream caused me to go deaf in all six ears, then I would simply be happy that the last thing I ever heard was your voice.

I smiled and began to affectionately nip at your skin. You know, heroes already bathe in love every single day. But warriors need love, too. And darling, you are my love. My love.

[gaymaramada]

‼️ EPIC: VENGEANCE SAGA SPOILERS ‼️

I have no clue how I would interpret 600 strike as an animatic if I could but I at least have an idea of the final confrontation:

⚠️TW: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE⚠️

First off, Poseidon is NOT as helpless and just letting Odysseus torture him — in fact, he does try to fight back, but he’s still reeling from Odysseus’ power move (whatever that would be), and it doesn’t help that, once Odysseus stabs him and knocks him down, he takes out his legs immediately. I don’t mean just stabbing them or breaking bones — I’m talking TEARING THEM OFF ENTIRELY.

If a god is going to be bested by a mortal, there’d better be a healthy serving of gore. Odysseus isn’t just stabbing him over and over — he’s going for the heart, then the throat, then the stomach. He’s shattering Poseidon’s ribs as he tears through his lungs, causing them to flood with blood. He’s twisting the trident where it’s lodged inside his abdomen, gathering his intestines. He’s stabbing ALL THE WAY through his neck so it juts out from the other side, nearly beheading him. Odysseus is mutilating him.

And Poseidon? Oh, he is furious. How could he have let himself be bested by this arrogant, self-righteous, unapologetic rat? And more importantly, why is he still fighting? Has he not broken already, even after all this time? He should be begging for death! He should hate everything about himself! He shouldn’t be fighting for his life! He goes as far as to call Odysseus a monster not out of horror, but in the hopes that it will reach under his skin and make him falter. It doesn’t.

To me, Poseidon’s pleas aren’t frightened, they’re frustrated. Him saying, “Enough, stop, stop!” is more akin to an adult losing their patience with a child having a tantrum. It’s annoyance with the screams, cries, and destruction to the point that he’s throwing his hands in the air like, “I give up!” Or, more accurately, grabbing the trident’s blade with bloodied hands before it can land another blow and yelling, “ALRIGHT!”

But Odysseus doesn’t let up, doesn’t stop pushing the trident forward into Poseidon’s chest. He’s glaring at Poseidon with such vitriolic hatred, but there’s also another look in his eyes — an expectant look.

Because Odysseus wants to hear the god beg.

And so — tired, frustrated, and beaten — Poseidon bites the bullet, gritting his teeth through his humiliation and fury as he says, barely audible, “Please…”

The sky clears, and finally, Odysseus drops the trident.

I just really vibe with the idea of Poseidon not cowering before Odysseus, but more behaving like a predator would with difficult prey — bro is angry, humiliated, and bleeding from like EVERYWHERE. Shit ain’t worth it. If he wasn’t tired when Odysseus asked earlier, he sure is now.

[a-hermit-pining]

Sukuna as a House Husband

Genre: Fluff Pairing: House husband Sukuna x Reader AN: Might be OOC but humor me people. Coming up Geto as househusband 🥰

First few months of Sukuna's career as a househusband are nothing less than accidents that involved smoke alarms and questionable fire extinguisher techniques. The transition from malevolent kitchen to a less lethal one takes quite a minute.

From handing you Lunchables to becoming pinterest core this man takes quite a journey.

Everyday chores that start with ill concealed annoyance and were in the past pointedly pushed on to you are taken over the minute he notices the residues of shared lunch from another in your lunchbox.

How dare you accept someone else's food? The entire evening, Sukuna glared at the takeout pizza with enough intensity to melt the cheese. You swear the pepperoni visibly cowered under his icy gaze.

And the revelation that some random Joe- Shmoe, a pathetic nameless mortal, had lent you his lunch is enough incentive for this man get in action.

This old man has lived his share of luxury as the king of curses. So, the minute he decides to flex his culinary skills your lunches take an immediate promotion.

The obsolete cooking technique no one can replicate...? You bet he's pulling that.

Puts Uraume on the speed dial as the trials of kitchen begin for him. This time, though much to both their disappointment limited to animal meat.

Does not take long before both become grocery shopping buddies for life. Sukuna scowling at unfamiliar vegetables while Uraume patiently explains the difference between shallots and scallions to his Lord.

Weekends take a turn for the… interesting as you become their resident TikTok handler, phone propped precariously on the counter while they attempt to recreate the latest viral trends. Fruit Roll ice cream remains mind blowingly top tier in your household. Getting a reaction even from Uraume.

Sukuna preens under the praise at office potlucks, basking in the envious stares directed at your lunchbox. Every "wow" and "that looks amazing" fuels his ego.

But the real win? Insanely proud when he sees you take pictures of the lunches he makes and even more so when you show him the stories you post on the internet (save his old soul).

Deep into his retirement phase of immortality, Sukuna discovers the joy of aesthetic. This man takes one look at dark academia, gothic Victorian mood boards and not your living room looks like a lair worthy of a final boss villain (which, to be fair, it kind of already was)..

Super into thrifting or picking a random haunted piece of furniture to add character to your living space as he insists, despite your very real concerns about the wailing coming from the armchair at 3 am.

Still a baddie tho. Will get into fights with loud neighbors or bachelor pad finance bros when their trash isn't sorted properly. And it, unfortunately is your responsibility to drag this man back home.

Cleaning is where he draws the line. You will not spot Sukuna with a duster. Ever. So, hiring a cleaning service seemed like a brilliant solution. Except, Sukuna couldn't resist micromanaging their every move. The poor cleaning staff — a battle-hardened group of professionals — withered under his endless critiques on porcelain dusting techniques. Needless to say, generous tips were the only reason they continued to show up.

The King of Curses, a being who once feasted in halls of obsidian and dined on delicacies fit for gods. Yet, the peace and ownership of your little townhouse is sweeter than any other possession of past. His dirty little heart is endeared to his home with you.

[galebrainrot2024]

GalexFemYou Boat Scene 18+

Summary: FemReaderxGale NSFW 18+ on the boat in the astral plane after you and Gale discuss the crown. Tried to be a little slower and tender in this one. Done at the request of another, thank you for the idea! :) Content: Explicit and slow piv sex, Minors DNI!

Master List | Read on Ao3

“I don’t think I deserve you at times - I told you of my ambitions, the likes of which many would baulk at - and yet, you remain at my side. Permit me to show you something, please? Indulge me - a little boat voyage, that’s all.” 

Despite your hesitation, you obliged - Gale meant more than words could express and you knew you’d do whatever you needed to help him see that. 

“Astra navigabimus.” As he uttered the words, you felt your consciousness and body shift, pulling away from the material plane and cast elsewhere. It was jarring and surreal, yet you kept your eyes shut, trusting Gale implicitly. 

“Few mortals ever glimpse what you’re about to see,” Gale said in a husky, quiet voice as his warm hand engulfed yours. “Don’t be alarmed, I’m here with you. Open your eyes.” 

You inhaled, the air around you a chilled mist. Goosebumps undulated across your skin as your eyes fluttered open, absorbing the impossible swirls of purple and blue iridescence that surrounded you. As you drift on the small wooden boat, your fingers lithely traced the air, trying to capture the gossamer fog. 

You turned to Gale, his face bright and the impossible colors swirled in his dark eyes. “The outer planes… this is where gods dwell. Where they observe us from afar. Where they make play things of us.” He frowned, gesturing to the skies, “They would keep all of this from us - the power, the possibilities. They only want us to serve them, pray to them… die for them. What if we didn’t need them and welded their power instead to help ourselves in all the ways they refuse to?” Gale’s voice was thick with anticipation and delirium, “I could make that happen. I could make this illusion a reality… with you by my side.” 

You froze, gripped by the possibility of what he offered. You’d be lying if you said the thought wasn’t tantalizing… yet, as he sat here before you, pleading and desperate for approval, you knew that Gale - the man before you - was enough. He would always be enough. When was the last time he’d been told that?

Had he ever been told? 

“I don’t need the stars, Gale,” you laced your fingers with his and brought his palm to your lips, brushing them against the skin. “I have you.” 

Your romantic gesture fell on deaf ears as Gale insisted: “Then have me, but have the best, possible version of me. The tadpole, the orb, these threats to our existence, the gods could aid us if they wished and instead they cower behind Ao. With the power of the crown, any foe would be rendered impotent, any obstacle dwarfed by our might.” Gale sighed, clutching your hands like a penitent seeking redemption. “I used to believe Mystra was worth dying for. I was wrong. You showed me how much I have to live for. With you, I forget my goddess.” Your heart thrummed violently, threatening to jump from your throat and your body instinctively began to scoot forward, craving him. “I love you. Tell me you feel the same, that you want what I want… please..” Gale’s voice broke and you leaned forward, cupping his face in your hands and rested your forehead to his. 

“I love you for the man you are,” you said, brushing your lips tenderly to his and he shuddered, emitting a gentle groan. Your knees were flush to his and you moved forward, chasing the adrenaline that flowed through your veins like a raging river. 

“Think of what I offer, the vastness of eternity, the Weave at our fingertips… you’d really prefer me as I am?” Gale looked into your eyes, the dark pools beseeching earnestly for your truth. Could you mean it? 

“You’re everything I need you to be,” you murmured before allowing your fingers to twine into his hair, pulling him close as your lips captured his. His gentle moan ignited the blaze within you and you feel the heat between your thighs stir. 

Gale returned your kiss passionately, hungrily, a man starved with disbelief that mortality would be enough. “I hope you’re right. Godly power I can live without but you - you’re everything.” His hands ran up your thighs, brushing against the soft skin and teasingly trailed closer to the source of your desire. “You put the stars to shame… let’s sit here awhile, I want to drink you in.” He brushed his tongue across your lower lip before he sought entrance, your tongues gliding together in the familiar wonton dance. He tasted faintly of earl gray and something rich - perhaps a lingering flavor of the nights meal. 

Your bodies entangled with familiarity, and you felt Gale’s smirk widen against your lips. He pulled back for a moment to caress your cheek and rested his forehead to yours, “Would you be opposed to staying here a bit longer?” He murmured as his fingers traced the edge of your shirt, tickling your torso beneath. You shivered, feeling the electricity burn and you whimpered as his cool hands pulled the shirt over your head. He licked his lips as his eyes consumed you, his pupils blown wide with desire, his cheeks flushed a dark pink. You shook your head, the bitter mist shrouding you as heat swelled in your center. 

Gale leaned forward, his lips brushing against the freckles that littered your shoulder and your hands trailed under his shirt, lifting. He obliged, leaning backward as you slowly pulled his shirt off. Typically, Gale and you would ravage one another if given the opportunity. 

Tonight, though, felt different. You craved him tenderly, wanting each moment to be a standalone symphony. You traced the orb, how its tendrils licked up his neck and brought your lips to the pattern. He sighed, pulling you closer to him and the seats of the boat seemed to de-materialize as you and Gale stared at one another, admiring. 

A plush blanket appeared beneath you and you rose a brow curiously as your fingers ran over the sensual fabric. Gale wrapped his arms around your torso to pull you into his lap. Your legs circled his waist and you cupped his face in yours, allowing your lips to meet in a supple, painfully slow kiss. You moaned as his tongue sought yours, as he slipped it into your mouth greedily, your hips rolling against his for friction. You felt the girth between his thighs stir as your hips rocked and you pressed yourself tighter to him as the kiss deepened. The carnal need grew, rooted in your core as the lustful dance began. 

Gale’s lithe fingers hooked into the waist of your pants and you gasped, the iciness of his touch juxtaposing the primal heat pooling within you. He took his time unlacing your pants before pushing them unhurriedly down. His eyes flick down to your clothed sex and you heard him intake his breath sharply. Gale leaned forward, kissing you lecherously. Each move of his tongue was precise and painfully slow, and you felt your body begin to squirm impatiently. You felt him grin against your lips as he cupped your chin and pulled your face closer to his as his tongue indulged. 

Your fingers clumsily worked to remove his trousers and he chuckled, “Let me lend you a hand,” he said as his fingers grazed yours. He shook out of the pants and your eyes widened as you admired the firm tent pressed against his underwear. He guided your hand, slipping it beneath his underwear and he groaned as your fingers wrapped around his arousal. He was warm, firm and you felt a surge of dripping arousal soak your underwear. He groaned as your hand circled him and began to deftly pump, matching his agonizingly steady pace. His fingers sought entrance between the cloth of your undergarments and sex and trailed along your inner thigh, right where the seam met your skin. 

You mewled, grinding your hips against his, feeling his erection glide against your covered arousal. Your hand worked quicker before his hand covered yours, his breath hot and quiet as he murmured, “Let’s take our time tonight…” Your body was desperate, wanted to move with a vicious urgency yet Gale continued with such excruciating gentleness. A light brush would likely be enough to send you off the cliff. 

His fingers found their way beneath your underwear and you squirmed, seeking him and friction. He chuckled darkly before slipping his fingers away, “The more impatient you are, the longer I’ll wait…” he teased and you leaned forward, biting into his neck. The sinful noise that fell from his lips sent another wave of arousal through you. 

“Gale, please,” you begged, your wetness seeping from your underwear and onto his, leaving evidence of your need. Gale traced your lips with his fingers and you shivered, licking the fingers before you before pulling them into your mouth. Gale groaned, his hips bucking upwards into you as you sucked on his fingers. “Touch me,” you whimpered against his fingers and he brought his slick hand into your underwear. 

“Rather needy tonight,” Gale teased again and he moaned as his fingers slipped between your folds, “Gods, how divine… how eager you are for me…” as he slid his fingers between your thighs you rolled your hips, whimpering again. His thumb circled your clit, the movements unrushed despite your protests. Gale kissed you again as you gripped his shaft, encircling him as you toyed with him, wanting to feel him inside of you. Gale, as if reading your mind, said, “Have you been patient enough?” 

You shook your head, moving your hips, deprived of his fingers. You felt him slip a few into you then, stretching you slowly and massaging you. The sudden entrance made you shudder violently and your arms wrapped around his neck, your fingers pressing into his back as you moaned. You nestled your face in the crook of his neck, biting down to stifle your unholy sounds. 

“No need to suppress yourself,” Gale murmured, pushing your hair back as he thrusted his fingers harder into you, forcing your body to tighten around him with arousal. “I want to hear you,” he demanded, pressing deeper into you and against the deepest source of your arousal. You cried out and bit down on his neck again. 

You lifted your hips, bringing them down onto his fingers and you mumbled against his neck, “I need you, I need more…” 

“Woe be it from me to deny you…” he murmured, pushing your underwear off your body and did the same to himself. He held himself for a moment, stabilizing as you brought your hips over his erection. Your hands gripped his shoulders and you gazed into his lustful, brown pools and felt him fill you. Your mouth watered as you brought yourself down deliberately only allowing the tip of him in. 

He whimpered, thrusting his hips up and you pulled back, smirking. “Why the rush?” You retorted and he growled, surrendering to you. You rolled your hips before bringing yourself fully over him, allowing him to stretch you full and welcomed him into your slick cunt. You both moaned as he filled you and he thrusted into you aggressively, gripping your hips. Your lips brush against his neck, his jaw, until your tongues are tangled again and he drove into you. Your bodies moved of their own accord now, both of you desperate for release and pleasure, the sensations overwhelming. Every fiber of your being thrummed with sin and you moved quicker, pulling him deeper into you and clenching around his erection. He moaned as you did, gripping your waist tighter, using his other hand to pull your hair back and kiss you. Sweat began to cover you both as your movements became carnal, needy - your breathing jagged and unsteady as you felt yourself swell with bliss and ecstasy. 

“I….” Gale moaned, the kiss sloppy and wet, “I… please…” his voice was raspy and deep as he thrusted violently into you and you cried out, begging for more, needing more. Abruptly he flipped you over so you were on your stomach, he hovering over you and pulled your hair back to kiss you. You moaned as you felt him enter you again from behind, your hips rolling backward to bring him further into you. He held your hair to steady himself, the pain from the pull overstimulating as he filled you. Your mouth was full of hot saliva and you whimpered as he grew more urgent, your bodies moving together in a steady, unholy rhythm. He pushed so hard against you that you felt a sharp pain and cried out, enough that he paused for a moment to whisper into your ear, “Are you alright?” And you nod, delirious from the pleasure, and you heard him whisper, “Come for me, then.” 

You press your face into the blanket and muffle your cries as he pumps deeper, harder, and his hand wraps in front of you for his thumb to circle your clit. It’s too much. You writhed and every cell in your body seized, tensing in preperation until you heard him groan gutturally, his hot climax filling you as your own climax roiled through you. The unadulterated bliss that pulsed through you was divine, both of your bodies moving in shared harmony, in your shared symphony of pleasure. Gale collapsed onto you, his lips pressing to your ear and neck as he murmured praises, how much he loved you, how much he adored you and when your breath returned to you, you rolled onto your back, cupping his face in your hands. “Mortality has its perks..” You murmured, your eyes fluttering shut as you smirked. 

Gale laughed, pulling you tighter to his chest, kissing your forehead. You settled into a comfortable silence, allowing the boat to rock you as you both marveled at how lucky you both were to have one another. “I can’t wait to explore your body a thousand more ways… eternity wouldn’t be enough for me.” 

[atlasofthestaars]

[MK X READER] New Era - Chapter .013

first part | previous part | next part

NOTE: Sorry these chapters are taking a while, I hope the longer length makes up for it all! <3 Experimenting with a more descriptive style of writing, so sorry if it is a lot!

Would you guys want a repolling of Rain? I’ve been considering it after seeing all the love for Rain recently in the comments, let me know!

Also I went back and added chapter names for everything ! ty for avianlily for the help!

I know it’s Mortal Kombat, but warning for descriptive gore!

FROM THE EYES OF ONE WHO SEES SOMETHING LIFE CHANGING

That night your memories returned to you, for the first time, in a dream.

You found yourself standing in the middle of a grand coliseum. At least, that’s what you remember it as. The walls rose high around the arena to accommodate for the massive amount of seats needed for all the people that filled them. It almost felt like a cage with how high up the walls were. The sun beat down harshly upon you, bestowing you with a thin of sweat upon your skin. The scent of dust and blood mingled in the air and your nose scrunched up at it.

You craned your head up to look into the crowd. The stares of the people were unnerving. It was as if you simply breathed wrong they would be ready to jeer at you. You felt more like a zoo animal rather than a person. You took in a deep breath, straightening your back. You would not let their stares make you cower and back down.

Despite all that, you were not the person of interest among the many who were in the coliseum. The crowd was much more focused on the fight happening in the center of the arena. A bandaged man with glowing eyes was beating Johnny Cage to a pulp as if he were a mere training dummy. Every blow the man dealt seemed to echo throughout the arena with how strong it was. Johnny probably had a few broken ribs at this point. 

The crowd’s approval roared in your ears, but you could only grimace as you crossed your arms. How could anyone find enjoyment in such a sight? You’ve never understood why anyone would enjoy bloody fighting as entertainment. What drove people to enjoy such bloodlust flew completely over your head. You understood enjoying sparring and friendly fights…nothing like this.

Johnny, worn down and bruised, threw a sloppy kick in the man’s direction. Predictably, it was caught. Your eyes widened as you saw the bandaged man reel his arm back. You already knew what was going to happen. You averted your eyes, gritting your teeth as you heard the sickening crack of bone. That man had broken Johnny’s leg like it was a simple twig. You heard a thud, then a groan, and then you knew it was over. 

“Ermac wins!” A voice announced among the crowd’s cheers.

“I’ll help him.” You said to the thunder god at your side. Raiden’s eyes looked at you, an unreadable look on his face, then he nodded. You strode over, looking at the tarkatan who had tried to drag Johnny away. There was a grumble, a reluctant growl, before he let you retrieve your ally. Despite the resistance, you nodded respectfully to him. No reason not to be disrespectful. “Brace yourself, Cage.” You muttered, hoisting Johnny up. You slung his arm over his shoulder, doing your best to keep the pressure of his leg now that he was lame.

“Thanks.” Johnny muttered, a groan leaving his lips. You knew he probably was aching all over. You could also tell he was swimming in and out of consciousness with the weak way his head rested against your shoulder. You looked over to his face, or at least the parts of it you could see, noting how the bruises painted his skin like grotesque watercolor. You sighed, wishing all of a sudden that you had healing powers instead of your shifting ones so you could whisk away his pain.

“Thank me later, try to keep awake.” You chided, your firm tone dissonant with the way your heart was hammering in fear for your ally. He was lucky they showed him mercy, you knew he could have easily been wiped out like nothing. With a grunt of effort, you led him to the back of the crowd, making sure he was situated away from the fighting and beasts Shao Khan let roam in his coliseum. He had enough for today, you figured. Looking up, you noted Kung Lao and Liu Kang walking in.

Relief washed over you as you saw them. They were safe.

Liu Kang had made a beeline for the princess. You sighed, watching him walk past. You had been caught up in the whole tournament and unable to help assist her. Well, at least Raiden had insisted you were more needed on standby than to help the princess. As you watched your long time friend go to assist her, a pit of guilt formed in your stomach.

You should have helped her.

You knew you were justified in staying back, after all you had to be on standby just in case you needed to fight. After all, the number of champions fighting for Earthrealm were much, much less than those for Outworld. But still the guilt grew. 

“Not now!” Raiden pleaded, chasing after the man. “Smoke and Johnny Cage have been defeated, and I no longer sense Jackson Briggs’ and Sonya Blade’s presence in Outworld.” The thunder god cried out, trying to make Liu Kang understand the gravity of the situation. You walked by them now, deciding you better listen in on the conversation. You walked to the right of Liu Kang. “Despite my doubts as to whether you are Earthrealm’s savior, you must fight!”

Liu Kang looked at Raiden, a look akin to a betrayed pet. The pyromancer’s gaze drifted towards you, his gaze seeming to search for something as he looked at you. Your eyebrows furrowed at the expression. Was he looking for your approval? What good would your approval do, compared to a god’s? Still, despite your self doubt, you thought about it. You took in a deep breath, then you looked away, down to the dusty ground. Then, after a moment of contemplation, you nodded your head towards Kitana.

“I have other things to do.” Liu Kang, with the voice of a man scorned, told Raiden. His determination seemed to have been bolstered by your encouragement. The man looked at you once more, his gaze much softer. Instead of the smoldering embers of hate, there were merely cinders. He walked forward, not caring for the threatened stances the tarkatans gave him. Shao Khan’s gaze followed, his cold orange eyes assessing the man. He let him pass, not caring for what he did with Kitana.

Vile man.

“Raiden!” Shao Khan’s voice boomed out, his voice sticking out loud and proud among the cacophony of sounds. He looked all too smug on his stone throne situated in the middle of the arena. He lounged too casually, as if he knew his victory was assured. It riled you up, making you grit your teeth and glare at him. “Put forward a worthy champion…if you can.” 

From the corner of your eye, you spotted Kung Lao moving forward. A mixture of emotions swelled inside you at the sight. The first emotion you identified was pride for your friend at his confidence in his skill. The second was fear, especially after the brutal beatings you had seen Smoke and Johnny Cage take. You feared he would suffer the same fate, if not worse. He had not fully stepped forward, looking towards the thunder god before stepping back into place.

Kung Lao’s desire to prove himself and to fight for Earthrealm was obvious. You tried to keep your mixed emotions on the matter less obvious. You knew your friend had issues with feeling equal to Liu Kang, your look of mixed emotions would only drive him to doubt himself. That among many other things was not what you wanted.

Raiden looked at you first, a contemplative look on his face. For a moment, you considered whether he was planning on throwing you out there. You took a deep breath in, preparing yourself for that very possibility. You were strong enough, you believed, but your faith in your abilities wavered after the brutalities you witnessed today.

Raiden then turned his eyes towards Kung Lao, noting his more eager attitude. It was like night and day. It was as if he were trying to volunteer to pick up the mail, not to fight in a bloody tournament. You knew he was eager to prove himself, but did he not realize the gravity of it all? You felt your nails create marks on your palm from how hard you clenched your fists upon the realization of what was to come. 

It was obvious who he would choose.

“Perhaps you are meant to be the victor.” Raiden said. His words felt like the final nail in the coffin. Your stomach churned with fear as you watched the all too pleased look on Kung Lao’s face. You felt guilty at the conflicted emotions within you. You shouldn’t be doubting your friend’s ability, and in truth, you didn’t. But you just didn’t want to see him get hurt like Johnny Cage and Smoke already did.

“One second.” You said, stepping forward in front of Kung Lao. For a moment, you sucked in a breath, trying to seek the courage to tell him to not do it because of the way your gut twisted and turned. And yet, upon seeing the look on his face, your resolve crumbled. Your gaze dropped, and you raised a hand to rest on his bicep. “Just…stay safe, Kung Lao.” Your fingers pinched at his skin. 

“You worry too much.” Kung Lao told you, your name spilled from his lips with a comforting tone. He placed a hand on your own bicep and pinched it back. A light laughter left his lips, and your lips pressed together. “I’ll make sure to beat these Outworlders and come back victorious, for all of us.” He paused, squeezing your arm. “I promise.”

You could only hope that he kept that promise/

“May the elder gods bless him.” You whispered to yourself as you stepped to the side and watched Kung Lao walk up to take the challenge. You were unable to keep out the hint of fear in your prayer. Thankfully, the sound of the crowd washed out your voice so your friend would not hear it. The air was filled with sounds of disapproval towards him, but Kung Lao preserved. You only hoped that your prayer still made it out to the gods despite all the noise. 

You felt Raiden’s eyes turn to you. His glowing eyes felt like lasers burning into your head with how intense it was. He surely must have heard your plea. You avoided eye contact, keeping your eyes trained on your razor hatted friend. You didn’t want to know what the thunder god’s reaction was to your prayer, though you had a bit of an idea already.

You heard a pained grunt come from behind you, tearing your attention away from the announcement of the fight. You spun around to look at the person who made the noise. Your eyes scanned the crowd, scrutinizing all the faces. With a sigh, you noticed that it had come from Johnny Cage who had moved from his spot. His leg was now displaced from an attempt to move. With a disapproving shake of your head, you strode over to deal with the actor. 

Kung Lao would be fine, surely. You had to have faith in your friends.

“What did I say about moving?” You chided, straightening out Johnny’s leg so it was no longer bent at an awkward angle. You were used to gore and gruesome sights, but you couldn’t help the little hint of distaste you felt upon seeing the injury. At least no bone was sticking through his pants. You couldn’t tell the full scope of how bad it was from his pants, though. “I should help you now that I’m not needed.” You muttered, kneeling down as you took out the medical bag you kept with you.

“Sorry.” Johnny muttered, and you could hear guilt dripping from his voice. “I saw that Kung Lao was going to fight…wanted to see.” He explained to you in a labored tone, his voice lacking his usual cocky tone. He was still slightly out of it, and it was hard to look at his bruised face. You huffed as you pushed the man down so he didn’t strain himself any further than he already did. 

“Don’t talk, don’t move. You’re going to hurt yourself doing that.” You told him, sending him a small glare. It was a half hearted attempt as your gaze softened as you saw how tired he looked. “I appreciate the apology though.” You sighed as you observed the cuts and injuries he had sustained. You reached into your bag, taking a rag to clean the open wounds. “This will sting, feel free to squeeze.” You warned him, offering your hand out as you swiped the rag over the wounds. 

His hand hesitantly took yours. You heard a hiss come from the actor as you began to disinfect his wounds, and you knew from how hard his hand was gripping yours now it must hurt like the deepest part of the netherrealm. You made sure to bandage his wounds properly, watching with slight concern as bits of the bandages turned slightly red. 

“You’re doing good.” You reassured him, running your thumb over the back of his hand which had lessened its grip. “You’re brave for going out there, Cage.” You said, deciding to distract him from the pain by playing up to his ego. You felt his hand weakly squeeze yours. You smiled at him, it was at least reassuring to know he could at least do that.

You nearly jumped as you heard the creaking of metal. Turning your head, you heard the crowd roar in approval as a metal gate opened on the side of the coliseum. A tirgar shokan emerged, and you recalled that he must be the one named Kintaro that your father had told you about. He roared as he exited, the sound echoing throughout the area. The crowd seemed to be bolstered at the display.

With heavy steps, he approached Kung Lao who seemed to be faring well after his last match. He wasn’t badly hurt like Smoke or Johnny was, at least. Relief filled you at the sight. He was okay, and that’s what you really needed to see. You huffed at the threat that Kintaro gave Kung Lao, telling him that he would eat his heart. How brutish.

The match captivated you. You knew Kung Lao was skilled, you helped train him after all, but it was something else to watch him in motion in a real fight. His technique was top tier, and the way he moved with his hat made it feel like it was merely a part of him.

His punches felt impactful with every blow he landed, and you swore you heard the crack of a rib from all the way back here. His hat sliced through flesh and muscle with ease. Kintaro’s blood splattered upon Kung Lao, decorating him with his signs of victory. Long gone was the proud tirgar shokan, he seemed like a pitiful kitten with the beating he was suffering. Anyone who watched could tell Kung Lao had been training his life for this.  

How could you have doubted him?

It didn’t take very long for him to defeat the shokan. With a weak yowl, he tumbled into the dirt. Dust clouds rose up from the heavy impact. For a moment, the arena went silent. Then, the crowd around began to boo and jeer the man. You frowned at the noise. The hate sent his way left a bitter taste in your mouth. Yet, Kung Lao didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he basked in all the attention, spinning and bowing, You sighed and turned away. While he didn’t mind it all, you were uncomfortable with it all. You didn’t want to watch it.

You continued to bandage Johnny up, having paused the task to observe the fight. You furrowed your eyebrows as Johnny began to move. Or rather, struggle to move. You pushed him back, sending him a disapproving look. You already scolded him, he surely didn’t need more lectures? The actor was arrogant and headstrong, but he wasn’t this stupid, was he? It wasn’t until he pointed behind you that you realized he was trying to warn you of something.

“Shao…Khan.” Johnny rasped, continuing to intently point behind you.

“What?” You said, furrowing your eyebrows at the words he said. You turned to look where Johnny was pointing. As your eyes landed on the man creeping behind your friend, it felt like the wind was knocked out of your lungs. You stood, dropping your medical supplies all upon the ground. You didn’t care though. You dashed forward towards the crowd, limbs trying to transform into whatever would get you there faster. Your hand was outstretched to the man. “Kung Lao!” You called out, heart hammering with fear.

“Earthrealm is free-”

You were too late.

Time slowed as you collided with Raiden, but the impact did nothing to tear your eyes from the horrific sight of Kung Lao’s neck being snapped. You barely registered the shriek that echoed through the coliseum as yours, you were far too focused on the sound of his neck being snapped. It was a loud crack paired with the sickening sound of muscle and flesh twisting in a way that the human body was not meant to go.

It was ugly and wrong.

Your limbs felt like they were suddenly made of lead as his body, all too limp and still for a man who had just been breathing a moment ago, slumped to the ground. As it finally hit the ground and dust clouds rose, you felt like you could finally move properly.

You threw yourself to the ground, ignoring the sneer the tyrant sent your way as you dragged Kung Lao’s body into your lap. Terrified prayers to the elder gods hoping that somehow Kung Lao was okay left your lips. You stared down at his head which was grotesquely twisted in an unnatural angle. His eyes were wide open, yet they had no life behind them. Although all the signs were there that he could not possibly be alive, you shakily raised a hand to check his pulse, desperate for anything at all.

Nothing. Just a body that was quickly losing its warmth.

He was, without a doubt, dead.

A scream left your lips as you tumbled out of bed. 

You hissed as you felt the impact of the floor. Thankfully it was not a long fall for you, so at most it would only be a minor bruise. Your side ached dully as you laid there, processing what you just witnessed. Through all the noise in your head, all you could hear was your shaky uneven breaths. You turned to face the ceiling, staring at what you could see with the assistance of the crystal lamp.

What was that?

Your vision was blurry, as if you were looking through a foggy window. You reached up to your face, rubbing at it harder than you needed just to make sure you were even awake. You winced at the rough texture of your hands. Your limb, despite you not willing it to transform, was a reptile claw. Still, it did not deter you from wiping at your eyes. 

Tears were wiped away, and you saw your other limbs were in a sort of disarray. You were mostly not human right now. You stared at your limbs, flexing them and trying to return them back. Your vision blurred again, but this time with tears of frustration. No matter how much you tried to will it away, you could not transform back. 

You were no stranger to gruesome and awful sights in your memories. It seemed whatever life you once lived was filled with grief and pain, it was something you’ve come to learn with the memories you’ve recovered. You’ve seen bloody scenes and lifeless bodies, moments of grief and solitude. And yet what you had just seen had shaken you to the core. 

You’ve never seen someone you cared about, or used to care about, die in front of you.

Your mind raced with the details you witnessed, trying to catalog every moment you had seen. Part of you wanted to squeeze your eyes shut and try to force out the memory. To try and forget whatever you had seen and how it would inevitably scar your memories. Before you could let your irrational thoughts get the better of you, you forced your eyes wide open with a single thought.

You had to be calm to dwell on whatever horrifying sight you had witnessed, you couldn’t let yourself forget. Maybe, just maybe, a calm mind would help your body come back to normalcy as well.

You rubbed at your eyes with the heel of your palm using the other hand which had turned into a bear paw. You counted carefully the amount of time you took to breathe in, trying to regulate yourself. Then, for the same amount of time, you forced yourself to breathe out. The panicked frenzy of blood rushing through your ears settled down, turning into a quiet stream.

Your limbs slowly transformed back into your regular form, and you worried a little less now.

You laid on the ground, sprawled out as you let your body and mind recover from the memory. As your rational thoughts overtook the frenzied ones, you finally let your eyes close. You flinched at the flashes of memory the darkness brought. A broken leg, an angry glance…a snapped neck. You groaned at the vision, trying not to remember that particular part.

Taking another deep breath, you focused on what you remembered. That place indicated a tournament, why else would you all throw yourselves into such bloodshed otherwise? You couldn’t tell if it was the same tournament that you remembered yesterday or not, but it was definitely in Outworld. Kitana was captive, but why? She had been a princess of Outworld, there was no reason she should need saving, especially from Earthrealm.

Why were you all even fighting? Somewhere in the back of your head you knew it was for an important reason. You knew that the thunder god wouldn’t send you into meaningless conflict. You stared up at the ceiling for a few moments more, trying to piece together the pieces you barely had. Why was Liu Kang so upset with the thunder god? Was it because Raiden had doubted he was Earthrealm’s savior?

It couldn’t possibly be, the Liu Kang you knew now was far too humble. But then again, was he always? You weren’t sure, in all honesty, your memories with Liu Kang felt blurred. You let out a resigned sigh as you draped an arm over your eyes. This was far too much to think about for just waking up. You rubbed your eyes once more. 

Maybe right now wasn’t the time to think about all that tragedy. With another sigh, you forced yourself to get up. As you stood, you grimaced at the mess you made of the bed. It was like staring at a massacred corpse. Deep gashes exposing the mattress were left, and the pillows were torn. The blanket you had tangled with as you fell was even shredded.

You reached up and fiddled with the dragon necklace you wore, a habit you developed. You had no idea how to explain the mess you had made. At least, not without either seeming suspicious or having people worry about you. You’ve never lost control before, how could you explain that a dream…no. How could you explain that a nightmare had made you go berserk? Not to mention you could only confide the contents of your dream to Liu Kang, and after the conversation with him yesterday, you were reluctant to. 

You rubbed your face, agitated. You’d deal with this all later, you decided. You were far too stressed out for this right now. You felt a tad bit guilty about just abandoning it, but you decided it was for the best. With how unstable you were earlier, it might act up again if you looked at it too long or stressed over it. Still, even with your rationale, the pit of guilt didn’t go away.

To move past it, you sluggishly moved towards the mirror. You saw your appearance, you looked like you had just been in a scuffle. Grabbing a new set of clothes, you quickly changed into it. You chose not to look at your back. Then, after feeling a bit better about donning a new outfit, you took the time to make yourself seem more composed.

By the time you were done, you looked normal. The only indication of your earlier frenzy was the slight redness of your eyes. That was only when someone got close and really took the time to look at them. You rubbed at your eyes once more, wishing it’d go away faster. Alas, it didn’t work. Shaking your head, you tested out a smile, seeing if you could fool yourself.

Good enough.

Smoothing out your outfit one last time, you stepped out of the room. You took in a deep breath as you stepped into the light. At least the beauty of the palace was somewhat comforting. It wasn’t quite the same as waking up for the sunrise, but it was still a wonderful sight.

Footsteps echoed from the hall. You looked away from the wonder around you to the otherside of the hallway, half expecting to see princess Kitana. After all, who else came down this way around this time of day other than her? Or anytime in general. it felt like. And yet, the person you saw walking from down the hall was perhaps the last person that you wanted to see right now.

Kung Lao. 

“Ah, Kung Lao.” You greeted, hoping the smile upon your lips didn’t seem too forced. You scanned his face. It seemed he was far too tired to notice any strange behavior. The drowsiness that clung to him seemed to go away slightly as you walked closer. A smile appeared on his face. You held back a grimace upon noticing how it looked all too similar to the one he had before he died. “How are you?”

“Tired.” Kung Lao admitted, a yawn escaping his lips. His eyes traveled downwards, and his expression seemed to brighten at what he saw. “I’m glad you like the necklace.” He commented, with amusement twinkling in his eyes. You blinked owlishly at his seemingly random comment before drawing your own gaze to where he was staring.

The dragon necklace. The very same you were fiddling in your hand. Your gaze softened as you looked down at the design, then looked back up at the Kung Lao in front of you. Your eyes traveled to the dragon insignia upon the left side of his chest. Perhaps it was not exactly the same size or design, but the similarities between the two designs of the two versions was enough to made you grip the necklace just a bit tighter. For a moment, you allowed yourself to wonder why there were so many similarities between the two worlds.

Then you stopped, feeling that damned headache remerge at just the thought of overthinking again. 

“Yeah.” You said, nodding as you continued to stare at the design on his chest. Bringing yourself to look up at Kung Lao in the eyes felt like a herculean task at this moment. Your smile melted into one that was a touch softer, a bit smaller. “I really like it, actually.” You looked back at the dragon which you rubbed between your forefinger and thumb. 

“I knew you would.” Kung Lao remarked, a nearly smug grin on his lips. A satisfied expression settled on his lips as he observed you for a moment more. Then, in the next he stepped over so he was by your side. “Let’s go to the Great Hall, I’m starving.” You nodded a small chuckle leaving your lips. You followed him to the Great Hall. Your eyes kept wandering around like a duckling without its mother. They seemed to land anywhere but the man beside you.

Even if you were composed right now, you didn’t quite trust yourself if you were to look at Kung Lao too long. They were just so…similar that it made your chest hurt. You weren’t sure what was quite causing it: the idea that the man beside you could succumb to a gruesome fate like the one you had seen before, or the fact that the man beside you was close enough to the one who had died. It was like seeing an imperfect recreation of the man before.

All too similar to give you a sense of nostalgia and to nearly trick you into thinking he was the same. And yet different enough that you were bitterly reminded that the man you had known as a friend was gone for good. Part of you was comforted by the sameness, but another part of you wished that he was just different so you weren’t reminded of a man whose death was seared into your memory.

The walk there was shrouded in a veil of awkwardness, but thankfully your walking partner didn’t notice. You were too conflicted internally to initiate much conversation, battling yourself with the newfound feelings of sorrow and grief for a man who has passed long ago. You did, however, talk back whenever Kung Lao attempted to throw in conversation.

Would Kung Lao ever believe you that you once knew him, in another life?

You were never more relieved to see the Great Hall than now. Trying not to make your excitement to not be alone with Kung lao too obvious, you slowed your pace just a little to allow the razor hatted man to reach the fire god and his friend first. 

Both Liu Kang and Raiden greeted the two of you cheerily. You smiled upon noticing the more upbeat attitude the champion held today. The nerves that once clung to him the past few days seemed to be gone. Or at least, gone for the most part. The only indication of his nervousness was in the smile that was a little too wide as he handed you and Kung Lao some breakfast foods. Your heart seemed to flutter at the simple gesture.

Well, that was breakfast sorted out.

You gratefully took your portion, and noted the excited way Kung Lao snatched the second serving that Raiden had also gotten him. You felt a little relieved to be falling back into some sort of normalcy after that horrible dream. Eating the bit of food also helped calm you down and not make you feel like you were walking on a tightrope around others.

“So who are you fighting today?” Kung Lao asked, peering over to Raiden. He wiped away the remnants of the food he devoured. By the time you had finished your portion, he had finished both of his. How he managed to scarf down food that fast alluded you to this day. “Not that it matters since you’ll easily beat them.” The former farmer sent his friend a confident grin, to which Raiden returned, albeit not as confident.

“Raiden will be facing the Osh-Tekk known as Ko’atal, or Kotal.” Liu Kang answered. His eyes seemed to squint just a touch in warning towards Kung Lao. The man sent a grin that was only partially apologetic. You felt the familiar buzz of nostalgia in your head at the name. You wondered if there was ever a time you’d stop experiencing this sensation. “He’s one of their best.”

You supposed you wouldn’t. Not until you unraveled all of your memories, at least.

How many more bits and pieces did you have left to find? That question lingered in your head as idle chatter was passed between the group. You didn’t realize how long you spaced out until you were surprised to feel an arm slung over your shoulders. You jolted in surprise at the contact, looking over to see the culprit.

It only made sense that it was Johnny Cage.

“How you doing, Teach?” The actor asked, a wide grin on his face. He leaned his head towards you, his eyes seeming to search your face. He seemed more chipper this morning. Everyone in general seemed in a better mood. Well, everyone but you. You felt a bit guilty that you didn’t share their energy. Still, you put on your best smile. Fake it until you make it, isn’t that what actors say?

“I’m fine, Cage.” You responded. Your eyes dragged over his arm which draped over your shoulders. For a moment, you considered shrugging it off, but there was something about the contact that felt…comforting. “You seem to be in a better mood.” You pointed out, looking back to Johnny. His smile seemed to grow a bit wider.

“I was conversing with one of the princesses yesterday, she was totally giving me the look.” He said, all too proud of himself. You found your somewhat fake smile turn a little real as you wondered what the look on the actor’s face would be if you told him you’ve been conversing with both of the princesses for a bit now. Granted, one was more willing than the other, but he didn’t need to know that. “She’s totally into me.”

“Are you certain she wasn’t just amused by you and your attempts to woo her?” You joked, sending Johnny a look with raised eyebrows. You heard what you thought was a little muffled snort covered up by a fake cough. Looking over, you saw Kenshi covering his mouth with his fist. You could barely detect the amused crinkle in his eyes. 

“Ah, you’re just jealous of how close I’m getting to them.” Johnny teased, you let out a short bark of laughter as you rolled your eyes. His hand rocked you back and forth in a playful manner. In what way did he want you to interpret that? You getting jealous of the princesses, or getting jealous of him? “Don’t worry, Teach, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know, unfortunately.” You replied in jest. There was a shout of protest from the American at your comment. In the midst of your light hearted banter, you temporarily forgot your woes. How Johnny manages to keep on cheering you up seemed to be a secret talent of his. You wondered if he knew what he was doing, or even was aware of it.

The same fanfare from yesterday played out once more. The entrance of the Empress and princesses was followed by the parting of the crowd. It felt almost comforting to fall into a routine again. You watched as once more, Sindel rose again from her seat on the throne to address the crowd. 

“Yet another day of this wonderful tournament.” Sindel announced, a smile on her face. Her arms were spread wide as she looked among the crowd before directing her gaze at Raiden. There wasn’t quite hostility in her eyes, but you sensed there was a sense that she was becoming just a touch less warm towards the champion.

You assumed, or at least hoped it was only due to how he was progressing further than she had expected.

“You have proven yourself well against Reiko yesterday.” Sindel commended, though that lingering sense of little contempt was underneath her welcoming tone. “Let us see if you can continue to prove your fighting prowess within this next match.” She sat down once more, leg crossed over the other. Her head turned to look at General Shao. “General Shao, whom did you choose to fight next?”

“Your Majesty.” General Shao stepped forward once more. You looked away from the man, deciding that after the dream you had today you really didn’t want to look at him. “I have chosen one of my respected officers, Ko’atal.” 

A figure you have not seen before, at least in this lifetime, emerged from the end of the hallway. He strode forward, his figure muscular, broad, and tall. His eyes seemed to have a hint of glow to them, though they did not shine like Liu Kang’s. Glowing paint was streaked in jagged patterns down his chest and limbs. He strode in with a humble confidence, much different than Reiko before him. Ko’atal’s face was set in fierce determination as he marched forth. 

Just as you predicted, your head seemed to buzz at the sight of him, but you could not glean much else from his appearance.

“Kotal is the pride of the Osh-Tekks, and one of their fiercest warriors.” As the General spoke, Kotal seemed to flex his muscles as if to show off the paint upon his skin. His armor, though had traits of the other uniforms that Shao and Reiko wore, had unique gold embellishments to them. “He is ruthless and loyal, and knows how to take down an enemy easily with the strength he has earned.” You rose an eyebrow at the toned down speech compared to Reiko. Seems like someone has favorites.

“So you are the one who took down Reiko?” Kotal asked Raiden, stopping a few feet away from his opponent. His voice was deep, and boomed naturally. His eyes searched Raiden, sizing him up with a natural caution. It seemed like he respected the man in front of him, or at least as much as he respected any other opponent. Raiden nodded after taking in a nice long breath. “Then let us see how you did it.”

And without much else bravado, the fight began. 

Ko’atal fought in a very brute force style. He knew he towered over Raiden, and used it to his advantage. His strikes were much slower than Raiden, but they were filled with such power that every time he did manage to land a hit they seemed to knock the wind out of the champion. His paint, or were they tattoos? glowed as he fought. They changed color depending on what he did. He even summoned totems within the battle. 

The warrior even seemed to naturally bask in the sunlight that filtered in through the open architecture. It was like he was charged by the light, and used its power against the electricity user in battle.

How strange, how different.

And yet even with the different fighting style, Raiden adapted. He used the bulkiness to his advantage, going in for quicker strikes to counter his opponent. He used his weight against him, having him fumble and falter when he did miss. It only made sense that Earthrealm’s champion remained victorious during the fight.

“It was an honor fighting you.” Raiden said, his breath coming out labored as he recovered from the intense fight. Kotal, sluggish from the exertion, nodded at his words. He got up, seeming worse for wear. Both men seemed to nod once more in respect for the other, before Kotal walked away, taking his loss respectfully.

“Another well fought match.” Sindel complimented, though her smile felt just a tad bit more strained at the sight of Earthrealm’s victor. She cleared her throat as she stood to address the mass of people. “Once more we shall adjourn at first light.” The Empress declared. Then, after another moment, the crowd began to disperse, even more people seemed to send glances at Raiden’s way this time.

“Another well earned victory.” You commended the former farmer. He seemed to brighten up at your words, eyes wide with joy at the praise. He nodded quickly. “Keep it up, and at this rate victory will be assured for Earthrealm.”

“Thank you.” Raiden said, his voice a bit breathy from the battle. You returned the smile he sent your way. Then, the rest of the champions seemed to join in, throwing their compliments towards their friend. “I have never seen someone fight like him before.” He admitted, adjusting his hat. “It was a very interesting fight.”

“The Osh-Tekks have an innate connection with the sun.” Liu Kang explained, his hand gesturing to the sun which shone in the sky. “Ko’atal in particular had a stronger and closer connection with it, which allowed him to fight so valiantly.” He regarded his champion with a smile. “It is exceptional that you took him down.”

“Do you think he would be open to acting?” Johnny asked, looking towards where Kotal had left. Upon seeing all the looks sent his way, he held his hands up. “Hey! I’m just saying this movie I was working on would kill to have someone like him! I personally think I would be doing him a favor.” He huffed, crossing his arms.

“You could start by doing us favors, Cage.” Kenshi piped in, his own arms crossing as he sent a glare towards the actor. “For example, by giving me Sento.” This now prompted a little bickering between the two men. While amusing, you couldn’t help but to let out a small sigh at the antics. Your eyes drifted away from the duo, before they landed on a figure heading your way. You perked up at the sight.

“Ready for your tour?” Rain inquired, a small smile on his lips as he stopped near you. You nodded enthusiastically, the whole tour plan having slipped your mind due to the dream earlier. At least you had something exciting to get your mind off of that. 

“Tour?” Kung Lao piped up. You turned your head to look at the man. He looked between you and Rain, eyebrows raised. It looked like he was trying to scrutinize what was going on, his face changing slightly as he processed it all.

“Oh, Rain’s the High Mage.” You introduced him, your hand gesturing to the man you were talking about. Rain bowed his head. “He offered me to go see the Imperial Academy yesterday due to my interest in magic.” You explained, recalling just how you got into this situation. “I’m quite honored, by the way.” You said, turning your attention back to the mage.

“Can I come?” Kung Lao inquired, his eyes seeming to light up at the prospect of going to a place that had such a high reputation. Your eyes drifted over and noticed how Liu Kang had even taken notice of the conversation.

“Sorry, but you can’t.” Rain said, his voice polite but firm. He offered your friend an apologetic smile. “I already arranged for just one visitor. The Academy is quite strict with who is permitted to visit, but seeing how your friend has such potent magic I was able to pull some strings to arrange a visit.” You looked over, surprise upon your features as you heard about the lengths he went through. 

“Sorry, Kung Lao.” You said, shrugging at the news. You sent him a reassuring smile at the pout he displayed. You put a hand on his bicep, rubbing it gently. You swallowed your nerves upon seeing his eyes, fighting the memories of what he used to look like. “I’ll be back for dinner, don’t worry, okay? I’ll tell you all about it when I return.” You pinched his arm lightly before letting go, only realizing what you had done until after it was done.

“I’ll be holding you to that.” Kung Lao said, your name cheerily falling from his lips. For a moment, you stared at him, hoping that he would return the gesture, but he didn’t. You nodded, looking back to Rain who looked at you expectantly. You nodded at him, watching as he gestured towards the hallway leading to the outside.

“Well, shall we go?” He inquired. You nodded, stepping to be by his side.

“See you guys later.” You said, waving to the group. A chorus of goodbyes arouse, sending you off. You, however, didn’t notice the lingering stare that was sent your way as you left. You both walked in relative silence before you noted how you were alone now. “I’m honored you invited me to see the academy, but I’m a stranger to you, why go through the effort?” You inquired, peering over to the man. 

“You have a very powerful magic, like I mentioned.” Rain answered simply. “And our ideals of growing stronger, pushing past our limits…it’s very rare to meet someone else who understands that drive. I could tell the look in your eye when you said that was genuine.” There was a pause. “I simply wished to extend this invitation as a sign of friendship.” 

“I see.” You said, scanning the man for any sign of ill will. When you saw none, a smile pulled at your lips. “I accept your invitation of friendship then. I hope we shall have a pleasant one until I must go back to Earthrealm.” 

“Indeed.”

The Imperial Academy towered high over you, a place of majesty and wonder. It was almost nearly as tall as the palace itself. It even resembled the palace, being made of the same white stone. To set it apart, black stone of the same quality made up the rooftops of the academy and accented certain arches and overhangs. This provided great contrast to the golden embellishments which were set into the building. Symbols were carved into the architecture, giving the building texture rather than letting it be simply smooth.

Lush foliage draped along the railings of the academy akin to banners. Deep red and purple flowers peppered the vines. The way the flora intertwined with the building imbued it with life, as if the nature here and the building were made to coexist rather one conform to another. It was harmonious. 

It was located a little further on the outskirts of Sun Do, but it was still close enough that one could travel to and fro from the city. It was nearly intimidating to see it. You could practically feel all the power and magic held just from standing outside of it. It was potent enough that you could almost describe the scent of what raw magic was. 

“Wow.” You said, your jaw dropping at the sight of it. It felt almost wrong to be here, especially since you had heard of just how difficult it was to get into this place. “Are you certain I’m allowed here?” You asked, looking over to your companion with raised eyebrows. 

“I was just as amazed when I got here.” Rain admitted, looking at you. A slight amused look was on his face, but he did not appear to be judgemental of your awe. If anything, he seemed to take pride in what he deemed was an acceptable reaction. He looked back at the building, a gleam of nostalgia in his eyes. “But when I finally stepped foot in here, it felt like I finally understood my destiny.” He looked at you once more. “I wish I could say perhaps the same will happen for you, but you are from Earthrealm.”

“A pity.” You said, not knowing how to feel about that last sentence. Your gut twisted with unease. You drew in a deep breath, driving out your nerves. “Let’s hope I don’t get too attached then.” You told him. You could only hope to yourself that your own words would become true. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you found a piece of yourself here, in a place that didn’t think you belonged.

“For your sake, I hope so too.” Rain replied. nodding. His words were tinged with pity, a sentiment that made you feel a bit worse. You didn’t blame your companion for your feelings but…pity was one of the worst feelings in the world. You followed him, stepping carefully over the bridge that led over a stream that was in front of the academy. It bubbled softly beneath you like a little lullaby from nature.

Your fingers trailed along the handhold of the bridge, the bumpy surface becoming engraved in your mind. As you two approached the entrance, the doors loomed even taller, dwarfing both of you. You couldn’t even recall if the palace had doors this extravagant. The High Mage cast a look your way once more, his eyes searching yours. It was like he was searching for validation within your reaction. You offered him a smile, one that he returned.

With a wave of his hand, the doors parted. They glided open effortlessly, revealing the building’s contents with ease. They didn’t even make so much as a creak. The both of you ascended the steps to get a closer look of the interior. 

To say the inside was immaculate would be an understatement.

The grand hall opened wide and tall to accommodate for a grand statue of a woman you couldn’t quite name. Even without knowing her, you could easily tell she was revered and beloved. At the base of the statue was an altar that was littered with gifts and more of the breathtaking nature. The vines and flowers wound and rose around the woman’s carved dress up around her waist and into her arms which were presented forward with hands cupped. Her eyes were alight with life despite being made entirely of stone. Despite all the foliage that grew around the woman, the statue itself was well maintained.

Even with the stunning statue in the center of the hall, the rest of the building was not any less disappointing. The marble stone below, checkered white and black in a hypnotizing fashion was polished to perfection. You leaned forward, and you were met with a smiling reflection that was almost substitute enough for a mirror.

The walls around you opened wide for many rows of hallways that seemed nearly endless. Stairs that were perfectly symmetrical in fashion twisted up and around to lead to a secondary floor that stood a little higher than the waist of the woman before you. These too lead to more hallways of the academy. Just how many rooms did this place contain?

“What do you think?” Rain asked, his voice snapping you out of your admiration of the area. You sucked in a breath, your eyes traveling over the area once more. It was only now that you noted the hustle and bustle of the area. Students rushed around, brushing past each other perfectly as if they were performing a choreographed dance. The footsteps, which would have sounded chaotic and overbearing anywhere else, sounded almost rhythmic. Magic danced in the air, whether it be in the form of sparks, light, or a creature soaring through the air. Some attendants knelt at the base of the statue, mumbling softly.

“It’s amazing.” You admitted, eyes darting around. A few glances of curiosity were sent in your direction, but ultimately no one approached you. It was like stepping out of their little routines would ruin the delicate ecosystem set in this place. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it. It’s like everyone and everything here are in perfect harmony.”

“That is why the best of the best are permitted here.” The mage reminded you with a small tilt of his head. He caught the glance of a student who peered at him. A smile was sent the student’s way, and it sent them into a grinning mess before they scurried off. For a moment, you felt special. After all, you were allowed to be among what must be the most elite magic users to glance into a peek of their lives. Not only that, but you were also accompanied by the High Mage of the royal court. “Come, let’s pick up what I came here for before I give you a tour.”

“You needed to pick up something?” You inquired, peering at the man. Your footsteps tried to match his as he led you down a hallway. Perfectly spaced doors lined the walls. Each was labeled with a neat golden plaque which was also engraved with an equally neat font. “I thought you no longer studied here?” You asked, hoping your tone did not sound too blasphemous.

“I don’t.” Rain confirmed, a small nod showing that he did not think your question was overstepping. “But my studies sometimes require equipment and items that can only be found at this institution, as of late I have been conducting research to help a fellow court member.” You both took a few turns before you arrived at a door which had Rain’s name labeled on it in bold lettering. “This is the laboratory I use at times.” 

Opening the door revealed a neat and orderly space. A tall bookshelf was on the left side wall. It was filled with hefty books and some scrolls. On the back wall was a shelf that was lined with various equipment. Some of them you could guess the usage, but some were far too odd to even think of what their usage could possibly be. 

Then, on the right was a simple desk right next to a table. The desk didn’t have much of note, but you did spot a simple picture frame. In it was Rain with an older woman. His mother maybe? The table next to his desk was the only place that had an indication of disorder. Some paper with notes written upon them were scattered. Vials and tubes bubbling with unknown substances sat upon a higher section of the table.

“Excuse the mess.” The mage said, stepping into the room. With more caution, you followed. He wandered over to the table, picking up a vial that had been bubbling while sitting atop a gentle blue flame. He swirled it, the soft blue being reminiscent of ocean water. “Feel free to look around.” He told you, his eyes concentrated on the liquid he inspected.

“Alright.” You said, your gaze falling on the shelf lined with equipment. You stopped a foot away, squinting at the items. In your head, you tried to guess the use of them from their looks alone to pass the time. One item in particular caught your attention. 

A small cube colored gold sat away from the other items in its own little section. It was rather unsuspecting. You couldn’t quite put a finger on why it drew you in, but you were enraptured by the small thing. Your fingers twitched, wanting to reach out to grab it, but you restrained yourself. A gentle footstep behind you snapped you out of your daze.

“Something caught your attention?” Rain inquired, stepping beside you. He looked towards the shelf, peering at where you had been moments before. He reached out to pluck the cube and looked at you, before holding it out to you. You held your hand out, and the cube, which was heavier than you were expecting, was dropped into your hand. “That’s a magic sensor of sorts. We use it to sense the potency in magic in things, whether it be solutions, in the air, or even in a person. Give it a try.” 

“Okay.” You said, looking down at the cube. You stared at it, perplexed before glancing back up at your companion. You saw his hand squeeze at the air, indicating what you should do. Gently at first, you closed your hand around the cube, before putting all your strength into it. When your hand released, the cube began to glow.

Letters in a language you didn’t quite recognize appeared on the cube. A soft white glow appeared behind them. Your gaze flicked from the cube to the man. A delighted look appeared on his face, like he expected exactly that. Then, cube began to glow stronger before bursting into a flurry of colors. Bright pinks, greens, yellows, colors of any kind began to erupt out. You nearly took a step back, and you returned your gaze to Rain.

His reaction was a mixture of surprise and awe, far different from the reaction he had previously.

After the color show died down, you stared at it for a moment, eyebrows raised. You were dumbfounded, not knowing what any of that had meant. There was a brief silence that hung in the air. You sucked in a breath, putting a smile on your lips.

“Did I pass?” You joked, trying to diffuse the tension. You looked back and forth between the mage and the cube. The awestruck look on his face faded into something that seemed to indicate respect. He nodded as he grabbed the cube. He held it up, looking over the fading glow of the letters before placing it back onto the shelf. There was an undeniable gleam of interest in his eyes.

“With flying colors.”

“I’m back.” You announced, walking up to the table where all the Earthrealmers had been. The tour had gone all afternoon and leaked into the night. You both had been amazed by the fact that time had flown so fast past the two of you. The sky had just begun to turn dark when you had exited. “Did I miss much?” You inquired, looking at the group. You spotted an open spot, right between Kung Lao and Kenshi, and walked over to claim it.

Your mouth watered at the smell of the foods laid out to feast on. Your eyes alone feasted on everything in sight, and in that moment you understood what Kung Lao must feel like. After that realization, you snapped out of it.

“We all did our own thing, for the most part.” Kung Lao responded after swallowing the large mouthful he had been eating. You reached over and grabbed some food that had been out on the table, adding it to your plate. His eyes twinkled with excitement, the same excitement that made you tense up at how familiar it was. He leaned towards you with a happy grin. His elbow nudged your side. “So, how was the academy?”

“It was beyond anything I could have dreamed.” You admitted, cutting into your food. You popped a bite into your mouth, chewing it carefully as you considered the right words to say. It tasted even better than it looked “I was honestly amazed at how much magic could be contained within one place. Magic seemed to spill from even the walls.”  Your eyes lit up as you recalled the grand statue in the academy. “They even had a grand statue to the goddess Delia. She's the goddess of magic.”

“They worship someone else than my main man, Liu Kang?” Johnny asked, eyebrows raised as he looked at you in surprise. He shrugged, and muttered something under his breath along the lines of go figure.

“What else do you expect?” Kenshi asked, sending a sharp look towards Johnny. There was a hint of exasperation in his face and his voice. “Do you really think Outworlders would worship an Earthrealm god?” He paused and sent an apologetic look to Liu Kang. “No offense, Lord Liu Kang.” He quickly added before returning to his meal.

“I take no offense, Kenshi.” Liu Kang replied, a pleasant look on his face. He turned his attention back to you. With a fork he gestured for you to go on. “Please, go on. I would like to hear about your little adventures within the academy.”

You nodded, a wide grin splitting your face. You went on and on, retelling all the wonders you had seen within the walls of the academy. From your lips was the praises of magic and how beautiful it could really be in the hands of those who wielded it. You talked on and on to the point where your food had gone slightly cold. As your speech ended, you noticed the way the others looked at you. Your cheeks flushed.

“Sounds like you fell in love with the place.” Kenshi observed. His eyes peered at you with careful observation. There was no judgement in his voice, something you were thankful for. You spotted a gleam in his eye, even.

“Yeah, the last time I’ve seen you this excited was when I told you that there was another Ninja Mime in the series.” Johnny pointed out, his fork pointing at you. He let out a small laugh. “I didn’t take you as the type to like magic that much, wildstyle. I thought you were all in on the whole teaching people how to fight thing.” 

“A person can have multiple interests, Cage.” You said, rolling your eyes. “But I guess you’re not wrong, Kenshi.” You said, thoughtfully staring down into your plate. Even the marks left by the food you ate seemed to remind you of the swirls of magic you had seen earlier that day. “I ended up liking that place more than I was expecting. I forgot how much I loved to learn about things.”

“Do you think you would take an opportunity to study here if you could?” Raiden inquired, curious brown eyes looking at you. You paused, moving your fork around to push your food. Your lips pursed, and you looked up to see the gaze of Liu Kang staring at you. You remembered, for a brief moment, how this question felt all too familiar.

You tore your gaze away.

“Maybe.” You admitted, shrugging. You felt the burning gaze be lifted from your form as your answer left your lips. “I doubt I would be given a chance anyways, I’m an Earthrealmer.” You said, your gaze now falling down to your plate. “Plus, I think I’d miss you guys too much.” You added on, offering a small smile. 

“We’d miss you too.” Kung Lao said, a wide smile pulling at his lips. His shoulder bumped yours. Your heart warmed at the sentiment. Your little smile grew a little wider as you picked up a piece of food and put it into your mouth. Mentally you replied to him. The mere thought of telling them this sent your heart aflutter and your cheeks went a little warm.

I know. 

Sitting under the moonlight, you gazed up into the stars. You were sitting on the same bench, this time being the one waiting for the princess. You tried to see the constellations, the ones you had learned about earlier today, within the myriad of dots within the skies. This realm apparently had different stars, it was all so…interesting.

“Waiting for me today I see.” Mileena’s voice rang out, capturing your attention. You glanced over, seeing an amused smirk on her lips. You nodded, glancing back up to the starry night sky for a moment more before turning your full attention to the princess. She caught your gaze before looking up to the sky herself. “What is so enticing about the sky tonight?”

“Oh, nothing in particular.” You said, also returning your gaze to the sky above. “It’s just…different from Earthrealm.” Your hand gestured to the stars above. “For example, I learned that you have different constellations than we do back in Earthrealm. I suppose I just appreciate the differences between our homes.”

“Really?” She said, her gaze lingering on the sky for a moment. She squinted, as if trying to see what you did within the sky. “I never thought someone would be captivated by something as simple as a mere night sky.” The princess admits. Though her words felt almost demeaning, there was no bite behind them. It was just mere honesty. She stepped over to the bench and finally took a seat at the other end. 

“I guess it is because our skies are a lot different.” You said, giving the princess a soft smile. “Our skies are a deeper blue, and our stars are not as numerous.” You say, indicating with your hand to the sky. “Some places can’t even see the stars even with a clear sky.” You paused, thinking back to the night sky back home. “But it feels like our stars do glow brighter where I’m from.”

“I see.” She said, her voice carrying a hint of intrigue. She stared at you, scanning your nearly awestruck look. “Not even our astronomers seem to hold the same reverence for the sky as you do.” She pointed out, a teasing tone to her voice. 

“Maybe it’s because they haven’t seen the stars in other realms.” You offer up as an explanation. “Sometimes, to appreciate what you have you must see other perspectives and things that you are not used to.”

“Perhaps.” Mileena replied, a tone you couldn’t quite place down in her voice.

“I must be boring you.” You said, realizing you had rambled on about the stars for a bit too long. You forced your eyes away from the sky, back onto the ground. You cleared your throat and straightened up, collecting your thoughts. “What type of story would you like to hear about today?” You asked, already trying to narrow down which movie to recollect to her.

“I think tonight I would like to simply hear you tell me about the differences between Earthrealm and Outworld.” Mileena said, her eyes seeming to hold a hint of encouragement. “I’ve never heard someone speak so kindly about both realms…it’s refreshing.” Her hand gestured to you, and you couldn’t help the wide smile. “It almost makes me want to seek out these differences when the next tournament comes.”

“If that’s what you wish, then let me fulfill your request, princess.”

And so on this night, the story you told was of two realms, and just how their differences made you appreciate them both a bit more. 

part fourteen

tagged - @bonezisded @lollipopin @simpxinnie @zhivaxo @koisuko

[b-yeonder]

Their Reaction To You Attacking Them With A Toy Weapon (Brothers)

↬ Genre/Content Warnings: Fluff/Crack. Just something silly I cooked up~

LUCIFER:

Steady now...aim...aaaand...FIRE! ping! The toy arrow flew from your bow and landed straight in the middle of Lucifer's forehead just as he looked up from his paperwork.

"Oh shit--" You slap a hand over your mouth as the demon stares at you unblinkingly. The silence stretches for a good few minutes before he finally blinks. Once.

"You have five seconds to get out of my sight."

You were gone within one. But wait--

You peek your head back round his door. "Hey any chance I could have tha--"

"Three."

"I'll take that as a no..." 

"Two."

Gone like the wind. Try again later maybe?

MAMMON:

Laughs. You? Take him on? The GREAT Mammon!? Come off it. But when you launch yourself at him he's taken by surprise and falls over.

"And he's down!" You start attacking him with the foam club in your hands, smacking him upside the head as he tries to push you off to no avail. His cheeks are already on fire from being caught off guard like this but when he sees Lucifer watching the two of you with raised eyebrows he wants to die. 

"Having fun?" 

"Yessir, very much so." You finish him off with a flourish - a bonk on the forehead - before raising your weapon above your head in victory. "The Great Mammon has been vanquished!" 

"Oh good, it's about time." 

"OI!"

LEVIATHAN:

Fights back, whipping out his own weapon. Lightsabers? Cue epic battle with self-made lightsaber sounds. You lose, dropping to the floor with an anguished cry. 

"My mortal enemy, who is also my lover....how could you do this to meeeee." 

"Wait, your what now--!?"

"Play along dumbass, jeez."

SATAN:

Raises his eyebrow at the threat. "Oh really?"

"Engarde!" You stab him in the chest like a fencer, but he doesn't move. You stab him again. He just stares at you. 

"Are you done?"

"Dammit Satan can't you play along just once, such a borin' old--" He yanks the sword, pulling you to him with a yelp. You practically headbutt him but he holds you steady with one arm, the other busy holding the sword. To your throat.

"A boring old what now?"

"A uh...boring old...lovely...man. Please don't kill me."

"Tsk, tsk." His lips tug into a toothy grin as he lowers the sword from your throat, letting go of you at the same time and quickly offering the toy back to you. 

ASMODEUS:

Dramatically feigns his own death, the two of you end up acting out a whole drama-worthy scene with tears and...well a couple of groping attempts but overall it was an A* performance.

"Oh, why must this be!? Felled by a poison blade! You are the cruelest creature I have ever met... To douse the flame of my life this way! A deathly pallor ill suits me! Oh woe is me!"

BEELZEBUB:

Watches you in mild confusion and amusement as you pepper his torso with sucker-tipped bullets. Probably in the middle of eating something.

"Yes! Bulls-eye, right on the NIP!"

Beel blinks down at his new nipple accessory. You're a strange one but as long as you're enjoying yourself... 

He continues munching away.

BELPHEGOR:

You attack him with twin daggers, murdering him in his cozy cocoon. But wait. The lump beneath you is still moving! In a flash Belphie is on you, pinning you to the bed.

"Excuse me? Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Uh...an assassin...coming to...murder...and stuff..."

"Oh, is that it huh? Well then."

Proceeds to pummel the shit out of you with a pillow until you're a cowering giggling screaming mess on his bed, arms up in defense as he kneels over you beating you to death before collapsing on you.

"I win, loser is tonight's pillow."

"Belphie noooo..."

"Belphie yeees." Is curled on top of you cutely, legs straddling yours and his arms around you. 

~ Obey Me! Masterlist ~

~ The Grand Masterlist ~

[forgottenarthur]

Storm at the Gates | Arthur & Aria

"They're out there!" Arthur stabbed a finger in the direction. "They're at our gates! This requires a resolution and I can give it! Please! Father! Now is the time! Let me--"

"NO!" boomed the emperor. Roderick Varmont's gaze was steel, tooth to tooth in full snarl. "You will do nothing of the sort. This is not a matter requiring imperial intervention."

Breath hissed between his clenched teeth. "Once before, Father, I stood in this position while a riot overtook the people in my charge. I cannot stand by--"

"MY charge!" declared Roderick, rising from his throne. "These people are no concern of yours, boy! And there is no trouble here! You will report to safety and you will do nothing. That is an order!"

Arthur's shoulders hunched. He couldn't slow the pounding in his chest. He tore his gaze away, towards the sandstone floor. "Yes, Your Imperial Majesty," he bit out, at last, tracing a cursory bow and stalking out of the room.

All around him, shrieks echoed through the corridors. This was wrong, he thought. All wrong. All his life, Arthur had trained, sword in hand, heavy armor banding his body like a steel glove. He was meant to be a warlord. He was meant to fight, not to cower behind stone. The gates boomed. They were pushing against them.

Even at Kil-Kennar he'd not hidden. At Kil-Kennar, he'd led the charge, when he might have quelled them, instead. The great gates shook. Arthur balled his fists. He was naked without his sword. Without his armor. And Kil-Kennar was all around him. He smelled the metallic tang of blood. The battered gates boomed in his chest. Screams echoed in his earts. It was all come again. Aine's bright red blood splashed upon Daybreak's gleaming blade and too-hot upon his own face. Weeping, screaming. Even then he might have spared lives. Even then...

Boom, boom! The gates clanked and clattered and Arthur had not even a sword.

'Hold fast!' some past version of him had barked to his men. The people howled outside. They wanted blood, red as the banners he'd used to claim Kil-Kennar. His men were praying. Pleading. There were far too few.

'We fight for our emperor!' Arthur had shouted. 'We fight for our lives! And we fight for our god! Hold fast and take heart, for there are no greater warriors in all the world! Today, all who raise their swords with me are sons of our divine emperor, my own brothers in bloodshed! Emmissaries of the true god, your deeds shall never be forgot!' He had them, now. He could feel it. When he had finished speaking, Arthur unsheathed Daybreak, turning towards the shivering gates. 'Those men are calling for blood. Let's give it to them!'

His words has swayed them. He knew it well. The cowering men had taken heart, rising, a hundred swords unsheathing with his own. But the consequences had been terrible. They were all of them -- soldier and rioter, alike -- his people. His responsibility. Every drop of blood had been his own, every broken bone, and every life forever altered. If he had only spoken out to the crowd...

He still might. They were at the gates, again, crying out for justice. He had taken justice from them before. But this time...this time it could all put to rights. Aine's life could not be restored, but the Stafford name could! How could it be worth all this bloodshed? Arthur turned back towards the room he'd just left, about to march back into his father's presence, but he recalled, then, his emperor's final words. If he spoke, now, it would not be with the voice of the god. It would be his own mortal hubris. It would be a sacreligious betrayal of his own true emperor, the God's own Champion. He could not.

Still and half shivering, Arthur turned his back upon the shuddering gate. He felt sick, nausea rising towards the crown of his heart with each heartbeat. He darted for the stairs. There was nothing he could do out there but, he reminded himself, there was something he might still do within these high walls. He knew where the women and children would be sheltered. he could take charge of the guard, he could see to it that they were all kept safe within the walls. He breathed a little easier at the thought, yet still the booms shrieked in his ears. Up and up and up he wound, mind turning over to his mother, his sister...and to Aria. The Queen and the Princess would be well protected, he had no doubt, his father's men would die defending them, if needs must, but Aria? Where was she? Who would look to her safety beyond keeping charge over some kind of prize?

Sucking in a deep breath, Arthur ran up and up and up, taking two stairs at a time. He had to find her. The first two places he looked, she was not, but at last he came to a small room, high above and replete with windows. Fear was a bird hovering just at his heart, weightier and weightier with every room he checked. God, he prayed. God, save her. He couldn't let her be hurt no matter what, but even worse to think of her injured with the way they'd left things after the Ice Ball! Yet, as he came into the room, his prayers were answered. There stood Eilionora and Aria. His heart was in his mouth to see her so close to danger.

"What are you thinking?!" barked Arthur at the guards, storming into the room. "Get them away from the windows! These rabble-rousers have projectiles! It's not safe!"

Eyes widening, the guards jumped to attention, moving in towards the women, but as soon as they moved to draw them from the windows, Eilionora resisted. Arthur ignored them all, stepping up to Aria, himself, and pulling her away, towards a dark corner of the room while the soldiers dealt with her struggling sister.

"What were you thinking?!" demanded Arthur, hands fluttering anxious across her waist, her arms, her shoulders, her head with its crown of ebony hair, searching for any wounds. She was so slight, her eyes wide, and his heart was a hammer, hands frantic in their search. What would he do if something had happened?

But he couln't think of that, couldn't think at all, as the weight of her eyes fell upon his. His questing hands slowed. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright. She looked at him. He couldn't breathe. Her breath was warm. One hand stopped at her waist, pulling her close. The other touched her face. The heat of her satin skin. His thumb gently traced the sweep of her cheek. He tucked a strand of unruly hair behind her ear. "Are you all right?"

[heartfullofleeches]

real master of the cult shows up, they're eerily similar to monster reader, feeling surprised at finding another fellow of their species, simply deems it so that the monster reader HAS TO BE their designed mate

Otherwise, why would they look alike so much? They're destined to be intertwined together!

(light body horror)

Foolish creatures. To be so easily led astray meant they were nothing more than lambs to the slaughter. Trapped bewteen their reality and the next, the cult's true master could hear their celebrations to its very core. Their disgusting misguided joy mocks the beast in its pathetic state; its control on their minds weakened now that they've found new faith. No matter. The fools had done enough in their own right that their aid was no longer needed.

Black smog trickles from the fire in the center of the room. The ash in their air solidifies and conjoins into small crystals that float into the vivisected body on the alter. Its glassy eyes fog over, limbs spasming as the forgien angents poke at its blood deprived brain. Their legs sweep over the side of the table; the lack of organs making the body light and easier to control.

The corpse picks up the bowl next to where it lie, blood sloshing down the sides and over its limbs. It stumbles toward the fire and chucks the harvest in bowl and all. As the flames lick the ceiling, the body goes limp and subcome to the heat as the smog leaves and rejoins its true fold.

-

"I'm full, please!"

You use a claw to keep a stray fork from invading your personal space, much to your follower's sadness. Weak to their puppy eyes, you exhale and steal the bite of breakfast off their plate hopefully before the other's notice, but of course they do.

"My Lord! Would you like to try mine next?"

You moan in defeat. How things have changed. You went from not knowing where your next meal would come from, to being stuffed with home cooked foods daily. You felt horrible for tricking the camp, but in your defense you tried to tell them you weren't their god. The hopeless saps wouldn't here it, falling for your charms even when the veil began to rise. World domination could wait a year or so while they got you comfortable to life in the compound.

A loud boom rocks the entire cabin.

"̸W̵h̶e̶r̴e̷.̸ ̸I̷s̵.̵ ̶I̶t̵?̴"̷ ̷

Panic and confusion spread through the entire table, you all hurry outside to see the cause of the fuss. Fire pours from the main cabin's doors, injured cultists picking their fallen comrades off the ground and to safety in the trees. A large creature wrapped in shadows destroys the remaining foundation of the cabin as it squeezes past the frame, lifting the frightened human in its grasp to dangerous heights as it hiss.

"Where is the one you betrayed me for!"

"Th...ere." The cultist points over to you. They're lowered closer to the ground before being roughly discarded. You can see the deity turn in your direction.

"You."

Its upon you in the matter of seconds, daggered claws rearing to tear you in two as soon as it spots you, but- those eyes. They're just like theirs.

As you cower, it takes a long look at you. Teeth as black as coal, the spilt in your irises. Bit on the small side and lacking horns, but there's no doubt that you're the same breed. The creature thought that the cult's new ruler would be a slick talking mortal, not this.

"You... you're...."

The shadows shrink. They take your jaw in their palm, the anger in their eyes fading as the same realization they had flashes in yours.

"Perfection."

The deity coos as it pulls you in. "Oh, what an adorable creature you fools have discovered. I should smite you all and every member of your blood lineage, but I can't since you've found me such a delicious mate."

Mate?

They pull down the collar of your shirt. "This scar proves of our bond for I bare a similar burden. Tell me, love. How did you come by it."

You cover the scar with your arms. "Bad humans... Researchers."

Its eyes darken, a comforting hand gripping your shoulders. "I am the same. We have solace in that, and being the only remains of our kind. Even if the ancients prevailed, I have a feeling there'd be no better match for me than you."

Groans of pain remind you of the damage they've caused. You struggle in their grip.

"Oh? Are you fond of these insects, love? Do not worry. I may be weak, but I have enough power to restore their health and I will do so.. for a price.