#good morning i really wanna write revenant. or just about him

[transwattson]

i don’t really know many revenant ships but i do like the idea of revenant breaking free from who he was made to be. like fuck canon, even if revenant was an assassin life too, there was more to him—and then with revenant, they simply chose to reduce him into, what they thought, was the only thing he could do: kill. but personally, i would love to see him escape that. i want to see revenant learn how to live for others, if not himself, rather than exist to fulfill the vision and bloodthirsty desires of someone else. and of course he’d struggle with it. i’m sure revenant would kill or break something beautiful in his hands just to prove that he’s the reason he can’t have it. but the thought of him holding onto someone, and, for the first time, fearing that he might hurt them. revenant choosing to love and be loved is an act of revolution. and isn’t that what it’s all about

[whirlybirbs]

will you, maybe, write something for our favorite apex legend mirage? a lil drabble? pls mother i miss your writing :)

 ✶   —    pity party for two    ;    mirage / legend!reader

summary: you’re the newest legend. this season is off to a shit start. featuring elliott, your pitiful comfort meal, and an empty bar.

pairing: elliott “mirage” witt / legend!reader

a/n: all aboard the apex legends train, chooooo chooooooooooo, catch me fawning over apex n overwatch like it’s my job these next few weeks. yay season 5. 

"Christ... Newbie, what the hell," comes a voice from over your shoulder with words pointed in pause, "is that?"

Elliott Witt's finger is then unceremoniously jabbed in the direction of your snack.

As he rounds the counter of his bar — quite literally speaking, it is his since he owns the place — you narrow your eyes critically at the figure in front of you and inspect him oh-so-carefully.

This Mirage doesn't flicker. Fake-Mirage does.

After this morning's match, you learned that lesson.

(It only took you launching yourself full speed in his direction, hellbent on tackling him to the bottom of King's Canyon, to learn the aforementioned lesson. That Mirage had just disappeared in a pretty scatter of light particles, sending you careening to the canyon below. It wasn't a good moment. The fan-forums certainly seemed to love it, though.)

Elliott braces a hand on the countertop and leans. He mimics your skeptical, little expression (as cute as it is) as the corners of his lips quirk.

"No magic tricks here, sweetheart," he smirks, "But, I got ya good this morning, didn't I?"

Your frown spurs you to pull your eyes from Elliott. His face falls immediately. Your shoulders slip. You become impossibly small, then, perched on the barstool before him.

No comeback? No witty banter? C'mon, you always played along. Hell, you were one of the only few who could dish it back just nearly as good.

He watches, a bit worried, as you take another bite of...

Elliott winces.

"Is that... ramen?"

"Yes," you mumble, "With —"

"Peanut butter?" Elliott's face is all sorts of screwed up.

"And siracha," you add, sounding mildly offended at the insinuation you'd forget to add a bit of heat. The rather pitiful looking meal sits in a small ceramic mug, no doubt dragged down the handful of blocks from your own apartment in Solace City to here: his bar.

"Okay," he breathes, waggling a finger in the direction of the mug, "That’s just sad."

"I am well aware," you mutter, forking a heaping pile into your mouth and chewing, "That's, like, the whole fucking point."

Elliott narrows his eyes. Still, you avoid his gaze.

"Alright, enough with the pity noodles. What's up? Murder-robot got your tongue?"

You fork the noddle pile. Elliott is, like, 87% sure that look on your face is the distant cousin of a pout. It's just more heart-breaking because you're sad. Like those commercials with the kicked puppies. Except he kicked you. Off a cliff.

Literally.

"I don't wanna talk about it."

Ah, fuck. Elliott blinks, brows screwed up tight.

"... Is it because I kicked you off a cliff?"

Your shoulders sag again.

You're quiet.

Elliott shifts his weight froom boot to boot.

The bar has settled down, and as another patron shambles up from a back booth, Elliott sends a holo-pilot over to take the drink order. The real him stays rooted in his spot; uncharacteristic worry is stuck on his face.

"Listen," he starts, "I'm sorry —"

"It's not because you kicked me off a cliff," you say, "It's because I'm terrible."

"... What?"

"I'm terrible. We're twenty days into the season and I haven't even come out top five in a single match."

Suddenly, Elliott can see the dam-wall breaking; and if he's being honest, one: he hadn't even realized there was a dam, and two: he hadn't completely expected you to be honest about how you were feeling.

Not with him. With Bloodhound or any of the other vets, maybe, but...

Him?

You and Elliott were like two sides of the same coin — charming, witty, distracting. It came with the terroritory of being the younger legends. And while you had a better reign on the support catagory, Mirage was ever the offensive player. It wasn't often you and the holo-pilot came face to face in the arena. The banter was, arguably, what won you a spot in the hearts of fans. Being likable was easy for you. Just like it was for him.

The fans were clammoring for any sort of interaction in the arena between you both in recent weeks. Fan forums were buzzing.

They certainly got it today.

Ugh.

You bury your face in your hands.

"I am such a loser."

"Hey," it's chiding, "No, no, no, no one is comin' for my mantle as Legendary Loser, not happening."

"I already took it," you grumble into your palms, "I took it when I made myself peanut butter siracha ramen as a comfort meal."

"We all have our comfort meals," Elliott waves a hand through the air, "Mine is cosmic brownies. Whole box of 'em. Big glass of milk and... See, see, c'mon, back to planet Solace, newbie."

Your hands fall and you really do pout now.

(It's very cute.)

"This is your first season," Mirage says with a sudden warmth, not even flinching when his holo-self returns like the fading of double-vision. His words are sincere, "We all suck ass our first season."

You're quiet for a second. You eat another forkful of noodles.

He tries his best understanding look as you sit with his words.

Then, you speak.

"... How come you still suck ass if it's your seventh season?"

Elliott's jaw nearly drops.

"You — you seriously are comin' at me with that? Bustin' outta your pity party, guns a blazin'?"

The way you shrug is cute, too. Your smile digs into your cheeks. "You set yourself up for that one —"

"I was being nice," he nearly cries, throwing his hands, "Last time I do that for you, newbie..."

The silence that rises up between you both is... oddly comfortable. Elliott hates contemplative silence, but... this is nice. 

"Thanks, Elliott."

He feels like Revenant really did rip his tongue out this time. Murder-bot for sure has his tongue. He blinks. 

"What?"

"Thank you," you repeat, eyes flicking across his face, "I mean it. Even... Even if I deflect with... y'know. Jokes."

"Alright, alright," Elliott flicks your hand, trying to dispell the sudden rise of tightness in his chest at the moment of vulnerability, "Quit stealin' my shtick."

You gawk. "You suck."

"So do you," he grins, "Both of these facts have been established. And, as a fellow suckee... Just know I'm always here to listen. Even if you bring your nasty, nutty, spicy ramen to my bar like it's good or something."

"Wanna bite?"

"Not even a little bit."

[fistsoflightning]

6: for you the flowers bloom

prompt: free day ⮞ vernalization || masterpost || other fills || ao3 mirror

word count: 2224

Even if spring meets summer only once a year, A’dewah will keep coming back to Doma just to see Haruki smile. (Or; some flowers need the cold to bloom in spring.)

Post 5.3 MSQ; contains spoilers for after the last (scion-related) cutscene!! This got... incredibly gay. And soft. Thank you @to-the-voiceless​ for reaching through your computer screen and whacking me into writing fluff, and also for letting me steal Haruki yet again >:3

The dawn on the day Krile let A’dewah more than five steps out of the Dawn’s Respite came with a steady peace, Revenant’s Toll not yet awake to greet the rising sun in its unfiltered brilliance. Mor Dhona’s usual smog of corrupted aether hadn’t come back in nearly a week, now, and the air had been all the better for it, a summer breeze sweet on the horizon as A’dewah had taken in the emptiness of the Toll. He’d even made it all the way to the rooftop garden before his quiet view of the Singing Shards, glimmering like Zaya’s aquamarines in the daybreak, was interrupted—and not even by someone finding him.

In the pocket of the coat Lunya and Syhrwyda had practically smothered him in when he’d asked to step out of the Rising Stones, the light ring of a linkpearl catches his attention, singing of river water and spring. Warmth, among the morning chill, overly familiar.

His heart leaps into his throat. No, it couldn’t be, he’d forgot the linkpearl somewhere in Sweetsieve when he’d caught wind of Thancred’s collapse—

When he finally fishes the linkpearl from his pocket to find the same earring he’d resigned himself to never seeing again, A’dewah makes a mental note to thank Lunya when he has the chance to; she must have found it in her final journey across Norvrandt, G’raha in tow… sort of.

Either way, it’s simply another debt he figures he owes to her.

He scrambles to thumb the connection on, nearly fumbling and dropping the earring off the side of the Stones when his fingers stiffen and lock, barely lucky enough for the pearl to simply drop into the palm of his hand instead of down three flights of stairs.

“Hey,” Haruki’s voice rings clear—clearer than it did all the way from the First, at any rate—almost muted in comparison to his usual cheery tone, exhaustion seeping in where Dewah would usually find refreshing cheer. Rustling leaves fill the quiet lull between his words,  “Hope it’s not too early, where you are?”

He huffs; since that one call back in the Pendants, he hadn’t stayed up that early, and he wasn’t about to break that streak while he was still recovering, the dull, empty ache of missing aether enough to keep him bedridden most of the time. 

“Isn’t it later than you usually call in Doma?” Dewah tries to do the math in his head, but Haruki’s almost loopy shhh is enough for him to get his answer. “I mean… not too early? The sun’s still rising over Mor Dhona.”

That seems to wake Haruki up enough, a second wind to his voice as he excitedly asks dozens of questions—when did you get back, how are you feeling, did Hanami manage to get that tailfeather from Suzaku to you—and he tends to the garden while he talks; somehow, he gets from their newest Scions’ return (“L-look, it’s not—! G’raha still has his archer muscles, you know I get flustered!” “Mmm, maybe I’ll pick up archery…” “Please don’t for my own sanity’s sake.” ) to the rumors of a shark infestation at Costa del Sol having something to do with this year’s Moonfire Faire while Haruki drowsily comments here and there.

“Dewah,” Haruki mumbles, after Dewah’s finished recounting just how horrified Duscha and Syhrwyda were when Tataru came in with that odd-smelling bread, and he can faintly hear a muffled yawn. “When d’you think you’ll come back home and visit? I wanna—” Haruki pauses, and Dewah can hardly hear the groan he makes when he stretches over the thrum of his own damned heartbeat. “—wanna hold you again. Miss seeing you flustered.”

For a moment, Dewah’s heart stays stuck in his throat, somehow still unused to being wanted so earnestly even by Haruki, who would want probably want him to come home even if he’d didn’t come out all the same after the events on the First. Who had been so happy to see A’dewah in the House of the Fierce after years of nothing, even as horribly bent out of shape as he was over the stress of coming back to Yanxia with all of his allies’ eyes on him; who had been there when he’d been at his worst, who had loved him even when he had chosen to keep him an arm’s length away—

“Soon,” A’dewah promises, even while he thinks of how his aether had weakened from returning the part of his soul that, apparently, was Zaya’s, and of how he’d been destabilizing at around the same rate as Thancred had despite being called around the time of Urianger and Y’shtola. His free hand brushes over the petals of an iris, just about ready to bloom. “And this time, I won’t run away out of the blue.”

Haruki stifles a laugh—in his pillow, or sleeve, probably; A’dewah can hear fabric rustling about on Haruki’s end. “Yeah, because you’ll, hopefully, be stuck in a hug for as long as I can manage.”

A’dewah’s following laugh, echoing off the walls of the Rising Stones, is the first sound that brings Revenant’s Toll to life as dawn gives way to another bright day.

…

Two weeks after, A’dewah makes a very inadvisable choice for the sake of his heart.

After scarfing down about two and a half slices of Archon loaf—ew, gods, how did the other Scions eat this in Sharlayan daily, is this why Syhrwyda is so adamant about her cooking, is this why Duscha fed his slice of loaf the other day to Miloh—he practically wheedles Krile into letting him teleport, briefly peeking into the infirmary to grab his satchel and is almost out of the Rising Stones when—

“A’dewah Tia,” Hanami says, her voice sending chills down A’dewah’s back even though it really shouldn’t, by this point in time. “Where are you going.”

“A-ah, well…” He stammers, hands reaching to fiddle with the leather strap of his bag even as he (somehow) keeps his head held high, a bubbling nervousness in the pit of his stomach even though he finds no reason to feel ashamed. 

There is no reason to lie, either, he thinks, even if it will send her on his trail eventually, when Krile realizes what he has done for love.

“Home.”

He turns tail the moment Hanami’s brow furrows—he might have a burst of bravery, but there is no way he can handle her coldfire stare—already two steps out the door when he hears an almost exasperated sigh from Hanami—but no footsteps following after him, thank the Matron for that. A’dewah might really have fainted, then, regardless of the ether Krile made him drink earlier.

When he finally steps up to the aetheryte, it’s easier than ever to find the tailwind that leads him home and let it sweep him away.

…

The Doman Enclave is nearly the same as he remembers it, if not more festive; perhaps for a hanabi festival, considering the bright lanterns and stalls lining the streets that A’dewah did not remember being there before, vendors carrying crates of vibrant goods and patterned fabrics. He passes by Alianne, giving a light greeting before practically stumbling away to prevent her asking after his health, and then several of the children from the Doman Adventurer’s Guild rush past him, paper lanterns in hand and excitedly chattering.

He’s not sure he’s ever seen the Enclave more alive than now.

In his daze, he nearly runs into two Au’ra—both much shorter than him, even compared to Hanami or Zaya—and he nearly brushes it off with a quick apology before he catches just who he’d bumped into next.

“K-Kotone!?” He sputters; even though he’d known he’d be coming back to Doma he hadn’t quite expected her to be around, a loss of words for why he might be here, so soon after arriving home from the First. Honoka levels him with a sharpened glare—presumably relating to the origami knife (of which he’d nearly given himself a very large papercut on the edge of) he’d received from the post moogle after the entire debacle with G’raha’s new appearance and A’dewah’s very unwanted reaction—but Kotone’s shy smile never falters as she urges her sister to continue walking. For a moment, he expects some sort of verbal flaying, so uncharacteristic of his fellow wallflower, but why else would she make Honoka go before her—

But instead of asking anything of him, of why did you leave so quickly so long ago or did you know you nearly broke his heart she simply looks over her shoulder to the One Garden, letting Dewah’s gaze follow to a flash of teal walking past, bright in the afternoon sun.

“The morning glories you brought us,” she says, her voice a quiet autumn wind. “He’s taken to caring for them, when he can.”

Thank you, he mouths as Kotone smiles sweetly at him, walking briskly to catch up to her sister as he almost sprints to the One Garden before rethinking himself and merely speed walking instead. His heart beats in time with his steps, singing with anticipation as he turns the corner and sees that familiar, horrible peacock teal.

(He’d heard from thinly veiled conversations, back before he was taken away to the First on accident, about how Haruki had stopped keeping up with his usually strenuous ritual of horribly bright hair dye after he’d left; he remembers just how guilty he’d felt, and how scared he was of ever showing his face back in the Doman Enclave afterwards. He’d been so adamant on not even letting his roots show for a week, so for it to be noticable….)

A light tap on Haruki’s shoulder has him curiously turning around, though, breaking his gentle but distant stare into the garden pond. “Hi,” A’dewah says like he hasn’t just shown up after a good year and at least two tall tales worth of adventures, smiling when Haruki’s expression shifts to that of shock, then of barely concealed joy. 

“Hey,” Haruki replies, failing to swallow his smile before it brightens into a grin that Dewah never wants to see fall again. “Didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

“I teleported here as soon as Krile cleared me to teleport—to Limsa Lominsa,” he confesses, bringing a hand up and scratching nervously at the back of his neck. Not the most well-thought out of his plans, now that he thinks about it. “B-but I think Hanami is going to be coming after me soon; she caught me leaving and if Krile asks she’ll probably, er, rat me out, and they’ll probably drag me back to get an earful—”

“But you’re here now. I think,” he says, reaching his hand out to gently brush at A’dewah’s torn ear, touch just soft and familiar enough that he snaps out of his worrying with ease. “that matters more than Hana-chan probably coming to kick your ass.” A’dewah snickers; he’s probably right, anyhow, and just maybe if Hanami does come knocking he can gently toss Haruki under the bus for how he refuses to call Hanami anything else but the nickname she hates when talking to him.

Haruki walks over to the railing of the bridge, after a moment, and pats the railing next to him; a seat so that Dewah isn’t craning his neck up all the time, probably, like he used to offer the last time he was here. Always somewhere sunsoaked and low to the ground, even when he’d taken Dewah on a trip across Yanxia, because for all his excitement when they were younger he’d always noticed just how he’d balked at heights.

Instead of taking a seat, he quietly pulls a flower out from his bag and holds it out to Haruki when he walks over.

“One of the flowers someone planted in Mor Dhona,” he explains, after a moment of stunned silence, idly fiddling with one of the flower’s leaves. “I didn’t have the time to, er, stop by my garden, so no brightlilies, but this was already in the Stones’ garden and—uh.”

A’dewah stutters to a stop when Haruki pries the iris from his hands, gently twining his creaky, stiff fingers into his own. Purple, unfortunately, isn’t Haruki’s color—it’s always been Munehise’s, actually, and Dewah’s not quite sure what is Haruki’s, too used to seeing him in eye-searingly bright teal to think of anything else—but he smiles fondly at the iris anyways, sunlight skipping across his scales and turning them pure white.

“Sunshine, it’s perfect.” Haruki leans over, lightly kissing his forehead; cool against A’dewah’s flush that could rival the summer heat at this point. “Thank you.”

And A’dewah doesn’t know what he could say to that, spring’s warmth blooming in his chest as everything he’s wanted to say in his one (four?) year absence bubbles up at once, so instead he steps forward and pulls him into a hug instead, sighing a summer breeze full of promise and withheld adoration into Haruki’s arms. The Doman sunlight seeps into the dark leather of his coat comfortably around the cooler touch of Haruki’s hands splayed across his back, and A’dewah could melt if his bones weren’t complaining.

Of course, he thinks, letting his fingers curl into the fabric of Haruki’s shirt as he finds himself lovingly trapped in Haruki’s embrace. What else would I have done?

[shockapella-sweet]

Mortal Kombat Fanfic Ideas

‘Cause after watching the Story Mode for Mortal Kombat 11, I’ve been hit by a ton of feels and needed to let them out before my candyfloss brain melted:

A series of ficlets where, just before Liu Kang and Kitana create a new timeline from scratch, various characters/OTPs (eg. Hanzo and Kuai, Ermac and Kenshi, Cassie and her parents, etc) are temporarily stuck in a purgatory-like void where they reminisce over everything that’s happened to them from MK9′s events onward, question what will become of them, and finally say their last farewells - or, possibly, “Until meet again” - in case they do/don’t ever see each other again in the new timeline.

Past!Jax and Jacqui Briggs talking about Takeda on the boat en-route to Shang Tsung’s Island, with Jax hearing about how they got engaged and how they want to plan their wedding, to how Present!Jax is still wary of Takeda marrying his baby girl and the possibility of being left alone on the farm. It can sort of end with past!Jax promising Jacqui to support her marriage to Takeda, and that when the time comes, he wants to walk her down the aisle.

A look at how Johnny Cage and Sony Blade reconciled between the events of MKX and MK11 (’cause God alone knows I wanna know how that happened).

A slashfic that also explains why Kung Jin isn’t in MK11: perhaps some time after the events of MKX, he pursues a romantic/sexual relationship with Erron Black, something which Dark Raiden and the Shaolin monastery don’t approve of (not so much because of his orientation, but more so because he’s seeing a member of Kotal Kahn’s court, making Black an enemy of Earthrealm). So Dark Raiden has Jin return to the White Lotus as punishment, and he can’t even help out in MK11. Then, in Liu Kang and Kitana’s new timeline, evil characters like Shang Tsung don’t exist, meaning Erron isn’t and can’t become immortal; he’s still born in the American Frontier years, and goes on to become one of the most famous outlaws in history, but eventually dies due to his normal human lifespan. Hundreds of years later, Jin - also alive in this new timeline - is a Law student/Shaolin monk-in-training. However, when he finds out about Erron Black in his research about past crimes and Earthrealm laws at a library (or in the Shaolin archives), he suddenly remembers that he knows this outlaw from somewhere, and the only possible person who can explain everything is Raiden. Cue all the angst, finger-pointing and even more angst.

Past!Kabal is apprehended by Special Forces after Sonya Blade’s chapter in MK11 (and directly after Kano’s death). He’s taken to an interrogation room of sorts, where Present!Johnny Cage is there to meet him. Kabal expects Johnny to torture and burn him alive, as Kano claimed would happen at the fight club. Instead, Johnny shows Kabal a picture of Stryker, explaining that the police officer was his partner (professionally and possibly romantically). Johnny tells him the truth about his burns and his becoming a revenant, and that if Kabal had continued his police training instead of joining the Black Dragon, perhaps he would have had a shot at true happiness, no matter how brief it lasted.

A slashfic about Kenshi and Ermac, and their last moments dying together in the Krypt, based on @paleicelight​‘s stunning artwork.

Hanzo Hasashi recounts his entire life-story spanning from MK9 to MK11 ... in the style of Bridget Jones’ Diary.

Kitana reuniting with Sindel and King Jerrod in a peaceful Edenia.

A Hangover-type fic where, after Shinnok’s defeat in MKX, S-F, the Lin Kuei and the Shirai Ryu clans have a raucous celebration ... come the next morning, Johnny and Sonya are suddenly married again after flying out to Vegas, Hanzo ends up with a mysterious love-bite on his neck, Jacqui thinks Takeda and Cassie hooked up after finding them in bed together, Raiden goes missing, Shinnok’s decapitated head is found lying in a puddle of beer (and may or may not be slightly tipsy), and Erron Black comes all the way from Outworld claiming that everyone at the palace has been frozen in ice and that someone stole his hat in the middle of the night. The only one who knows what’s going on is Kung Jin, who doesn’t drink. Of course, he’s not gonna explain what happened that easily.

Kuai Liang breaks down some time after fighting Noob Saibot, and Hanzo tries to comfort him, because he knows the pain of losing loved ones. Could be slash or not.

Smoke is alone and afraid in the Netherrealm, feeling like he’s been abandoned by Kuai Liang after all these years of suffering. Suddenly, Geras appears out of nowhere and tries to persuade him to join Kronika’s cause. In the process, Smoke either makes a genuine friend or “disappears” if he refuses.

Liu Kang and Kitana start out crafting the new timeline with good intentions. However, after a long while, they start manipulating time to suit their own needs, and repeatedly reboot the timeline when they see fit, even going as far as to erase their friends and allies from history altogether. In other words, they become the very thing Liu-liu defeated: Kronika ..

After passing on his protector duties to Liu Kang, Raiden feels at peace for the first time in years. After advising Liu Kang and Kitana in shaping the new timeline, he enjoys his mortal state and its little pleasures. From seeing the Kombat Kids moving onto new ventures in their lives, to seeing Earthrealm, Outworld, Edenia and all the other realms working together, Raiden can’t be any more happier. By the time he dies - in a warm bed at the Sky Temple, perhaps surrounded by his friends and loved ones - he is truly at peace, and is ready for the joys of the afterlife.

A complete retelling of MK11′s Story Mode ... BUT with some of the missing characters from MKX. Picture it: Kronika brings back Mileena to help Shao Kahn (also by bringing her back, it appeases Shao Kahn and makes him trust Kronika more). However, Mileena is conflicted between helping Daddy Dearest when he’s indirectly working with D’Vorah, her executioner, or working with Kitana to take back Outworld’s throne - although that means working with Kotal Kahn, who also had a hand in her death. Meawhile, Reptile and Ferra/Torr are convinced by Kronika to join her in her cause, as they see the potential of their races coming back to life in the timeline reboot (seeing her bring back past kombatants solidifies their trust in her - if she’s got that kind of power, then surely she can restore their races without question). Kuai Liang and Hanzo bump into Noob Saibot and Revenant!Smoke at the factory: not only does it pain Kuai to see his brother still alive and quite evil, but to see his best friend - his brother in arms - working alongside Noob for Kronika’s cause just about breaks him. For the Jax and Jacqui story arc, instead of a crown of souls they have to fetch, it’s actually Ermac that Kronika’s really after (being a huge soul collective and all); given he’s still part of Kotal Kahn’s remaining court, the emperor has the construct protected; in steps Kenshi, who has an inkling that he and Ermac were close friends in a past timeline, so he picks himself to guard Ermac. This causes conflict with both past!Jax (who’s miffed about losing his arms) and present!Jax (who’s equally miffed PLUS needs to take Ermac - alive - to Kronika). Cue a conflict of interest also erupting between Kenshi and Jax, and how this may affect Takeda and Jacqui’s relationship. Meanwhile, Kung Jin is back with the White Lotus (possibly for the reasons above or not), and is able to help out after Dark Raiden’s demise: he fights alongside Kung Lao and Liu Kang (which has so much potential for family fluff, introspection on their past lives, discussion of cultural values, Jin’s homosexuality, etc), as well as assist S-F (maybe during the Black Dragons’ assault on S-F, or when they raid the fight club). With his knowledge, maybe Raiden and everyone could potentially find Kronika’s Keep a lot sooner than later. Also, “By the Elder Gods, Black, walking around in the Outworld sun did you no f****** favours in the future.”

Kabal settling down with Sareena, based on his Tower Ending ... ha ha, just kidding! As if I’d do something like that. XP

That’s it. I think that’s all I’ve got so far. I think it’s a decent-ish mix of drama, romance and humour.

Whether or not I will actually write these fics some day, I don’t know. But it’s fun thinking about the possibilities, especially after how MK11′s Story Mode broke me. ^3^

[spootiliousrps]

Unique Sabriel

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Stranger: [|Supernatural. Sam realizes that he has never been quite alive, ever since Jake killed him. He denies it, but finally it becomes rather... Clear. Ghost!Dark!Sam. You can continue as /any/ character from Supernatural. Any ship works. Can play in any season after season 2.|] Sam had died many times. Over and over, really. But that one time Jake killed him? That was something else. He was supposed to be dead there, if it wasn't for his brother making that deal. That deal. A deal that was never fully explained. A deal as onesided as could be. Sam had been brought back, but differently than one thought. This, though, took a long time to show. Now? Years after that? Sam felt it. A 'virus' clawing at his soul. He finally realized that he had never been brought back in the actual sense. But he was a spirit. Almost like a revenant, but not quite. After Sam found out about this, he kept denying it. But now it became physical. It was during a hunt, that Sam suddenly was overcome by pain. He had to retreat from the nest they were clearing, back to the Impala. He felt bad for leaving his brother in there, but it only were two or three vampires left. So who cared. He was sitting on the ground behind the car, just leaning against it, trying to breath normally. But it was difficult. As his body was flickering in and out of existence. Yeah. A ghost with a body brought a lot of complications with it, especially when that body began to basically stop physically existing- Fun, huh?

You: [Would you prefer I pick up as Dean or Gabriel?]

Stranger: [I don't mind! However it works better for you! :)]

You: Gabriel was enjoying a nice hot bath with a few of his trusted 'friends', a bottle of champagne in one hand and a Snickers in the other. Everything was just Dandy... That was until he was suddenly displaced. A sudden force jerked him out of the water and flung him halfway across the country. He had just enough time to materialize some clothes and catch himself before he could fall onto his face. "What the f-" He began as he stumbled before he caught sight of the flickering form. It took him a moment to recognize the freakishly tall human. "Oh this is just peachy." He huffed, Last he had seen the Winchesters they tried to gank him. Granted that thought he was a trickster and Gabriel did put on a damn good show if he said so himself... and he did. "What do you want?" He huffed stepping closer as Sam flickered again, causing the archangel's brows to furrow. He wondered briefly how the Winchesters could have summoned him, not knowing what he was... but he was distracted by the sight before him, his concern shifting from self preservation to hesitant curiosity.

Stranger: Sam jerked together when he heard a voice suddenly. He glanced up, shivering the slightest bit, frowning. He was obviously confused. For many reasons. He of course didn't know why Gabriel was here. Because he didn't realize he was called. Nonetheless, he couldn't say he was upset. Because he needed some help right now. "I-I'm not even going to question anything, but- But can you somehow get me away from here?" He asked, quickly, through the pain. "Dean can't see me like this- He's- He's going to be completely confused and I don't know- It's not gonna be good-" He was obviously in sheer panic. Sheer panic over what was happening. "I know you probably don't want to help me, but you are here and I am here- So why don't you help me-" He added. He really didn't know what he was saying anymore. He just had to things on his mind. To get away from this place. And to have the pain stop. Nothing else. [Sorry by the way if my writing is a bit all over the place, I just settled at the laptop and got talked at and all. Your writing is really amazing though!]

You: [No worries. ^.^ I'm at work so bare with me as well I will be replying quickly the majority of the times but there might be a minute or two here or there where I get distracted. So, sorry in advance. ]

Stranger: [That's cool!]

You: [Also thank you. Your not so bad yourself ;P]

Stranger: [Why, thank you :)]

You: Gabriel considered it briefly as he eyed the younger Winchester skeptically, trying to decide what he was trying to pull over his eyes. After a moment, however he sighed with a shrug. "Well, I've never been one to turn down going home with a stranger." He teased before snapping his fingers. The world around them was instantly replaced with his simplistic flat and overly plush furniture. "But you're going to owe me one. Of course, we can discuss payment later." He added an afterthought. He stepped forward reaching out as if to poke Sam in the shoulder curiously.

Stranger: Sam seemed a bit startled, as he was suddenly transported like that. He did his best not to fall over into any direction. Seriously. He could barely see anything that was more than a few feet away. But he could hear fine. So that was good. "I probably owe like 10 people something already, another one won't be bad-" He forced out, swallowing thickly at the still remaining pain. The flickering didn't stop. Maybe it calmed just a little, due to his vanishing panic, but it was there. And if one was to touch him, it'd feel like that. Like he wasn't there. Well, there was a freezing feeling instead, of course. But that was it. It was really like he was only an image, becoming more faint some seconds, before regaining stability the other.

You: Gabriel's hand drifted through the other man. For him, for an angel, it didn't feel like nothing. Angels were incorporeal they dealt with souls directly, though he was certain Sam was in too much pain to notice the subtle touch of his grace. Still, he wiggled his fingers inside of Sam's massive shoulder and hummed. He could feel the man's pain, the panic... the wrongness of what he was becoming. For a brief moment Gabriel's usual playful smile pursed into a thin line, showing the rare sight of his concern before his gaze met Sam's and he gave what sounded like a careless laugh. "Well Sammich, you've really got yourself into a pickle haven't you?" He mused before straightening. "Wanna tell this old trickster what you've been up to?" He pressed, snapping his fingers and materializing a large chair beneath him.

Stranger: Sam glanced at him, not really happy with his antics. But grateful anyways. After all, he did still somewhat help him. "I-... I've been up to nothing…" He mumbled, weakly. "I wish I knew what I did. I wish- Okay? But I don't. This just began happening a few weeks ago…" He shook his head slightly. He was still thinking that maybe he was wrong. He still believed this wasn't what he thought. But all this? The not actually being physical part. The cold part. And these… Thoughts… He'd been having. They obviously hinted to things. Sam, as a hunter, had seen this so many times before, but he didn't want it to be real. So it wasn't. To him at least. But he didn't lie when he said he didn't know what happened. Because he didn't. Sure, the whole 'Special Children Hunger games' wasn't too long ago. But long enough for Sam to disregard as being unimportant to this. "Seriously, it just happened some morning. And it only got worse than then- I-I don't know what's happening, I... I don't…." Yeah. He was desperate. Desperate for someone to just give him a definitive answer. To talk through the lie he was telling himself. Because he was telling himself he wasn't just turning into a ghost. But he was. However, he was a mere spirit. A mere soul with little to no importance anymore.

You: Gabriel arched a brow at Sam's panicked rambling but he listened none the less. He actually kinda felt bad for the guy. Sure he tried to kill him but Gabriel didn't fault him for that. He /was/ a hunter after all... and human... or was... Regardless he wasn't the first being that had tried to kill him and wouldn't be the last. He gave another huff, this one a bit more annoyed as he leaned on his elbow. "Alright, calm down. Its really hard to take anything your saying seriously when you're flickering like that." He brushed off as if he didn't care. He gave another snap of his fingers, attempting to stabilize Sam's form. It wouldn't last long, and certainly wasn't permanent but would do in a pinch.

Stranger: Sam clearly felt that. Because it took some of the pain away with it. He was silent for a bit, before pressing his lips and looking down. "Thank you…" Was the first thing he muttered. He felt so stupid. So weak, even. He shouldn't be so... Acting so... Weak. He had worse, yet, this got to him so much. Probably because it threatened his existence how he knew it. There was a reason why hunters were burned when they died. The worst nightmare of a hunter was to turn into a spirit. Because 99% of spirits are evil. And that? That wasn't a nice thought. "I... I-It's just... Hard to calm down..." He tried to talk slower than before. "I really don't know what to do. And I can't tell Dean- If it really is what I think it is? I... Well, I know it won't end well… It really won't…" He knew Dean loved him and Sam loved him just as much. They were brothers. But sometimes Sam asked himself if Dean would kill him, if he had to. Heh. Their dad would certainly.

You: Gabe's brow arched again. "And what do you think it is?" He asked curiously. Gabe honestly had never seen something like this before which definitely made him interested but this was also dangerous. "I mean, obviously you're kinda dead... only... you're not dead.... but your not undead..." He explained before laughing. "Man, Romero would have a field day with you! Night of the Living Dead, my ass." He mused.

Stranger: Sam let out a small huff. "I... Am I turning into a ghost? I mean… It sounds stupid. Even when I say it, okay? Joke about it all you want. All the flickering, that's one thing. That could be anything. But things freeze. Stuff stops working- It's all like I'm being followed by a spirit. Just that the spirit is me- But... But that can't be true- I mean- I-I'm not dead, right? When I died Dean got me back, so I'm fine- I should be fine-" The panic was back in his voice. And it sounded so not like him. It was mental pain, now. The thoughts bothering him that this was actually happening. Ugh- He knew it was happening. He knew he was right- But he didn't want to be right for once.

You: "So thats what happened." Commented in realization. "You went and got yourself killed." He tisked with a shake of his head before shrugging. "Well, you are only human. It was bound to happen at some point. I'm actually a little surprised that you and your brother lasted this long." He admitted, tapping his chin in contemplation. "Man, I bet Daddy dearest is having a giant fit right now." He mumbled under his breath. God always hated it when his plans went array. That was one of the many reasons Gabriel had left. "So... Who did big brother Dean make a deal with to bring you back?" He asked curiously, knowing he hadn't answered Sam's questions yet.

Stranger: Sam looked back up, frowning as he was asked more questions. But he could only shrug. "Some crossroad demon. I wouldn't know. I was sort of… You know… Dead. At first I didn't even really know. But it was sort of clear… But... But that's not-..." He paused slightly. "The way you're talking about it? It's like... Is that what's really happening to me? Because in that case, just kill me for real. Why- Why is there no reaper to take me?" That was honestly a good question. But to be fair, this wasn't how people usually died and turned into spirits. Maybe the reaper got bored of waiting. Or didn't even know it was time. Basically- Sam didn't even have the choice to give up and go beyond. Great. Because he would rather do that than being stuck in the vail.

Stranger: [By the way, just saying, if it dies, let's use a tag. Like... GN1234 or something. Pretty simple]

You: If Gabriel had a heart it would have probably broken for the man. Wishing death rather than living as a horrible unnatural creature... He could certainly relate. He was silent for a moment, still studying the hunter. Gabriel was a very impulsive being, he had been for millennial now; it bit him in the ass now and again but it never stopped him from making split second decisions just as it wouldn't stop him now. "Well thats what he gets for making a deal with a demon." He mused softly. "You're not a ghost... at least not yet... and theres no reaper because they have their own rules. If there was a deal made then Death has an agreement with the Demons that he won't interfere. " He added. "I'm betting that beefhead of a brother of yours didn't read the fine print." He shrugged before pointing at the younger man. "He wanted you back and he got exactly what he asked for. You're body is here but your spirit isn't fully attached. You're hanging on by threads that will wear down more and more as time passes. Which means you'll eventually separate from that swimsuit model you're attached to; becoming full ghost." He acknowledged. "At least thats my guesstimate."

You: [Sounds good.]

Stranger: Sam just listened. And he didn't like any of it. He really didn't. "Well- Who said you had to be right." He suddenly said, which was clashing with what he said before. How he explained his situation before, saying he thought he might become a spirit only. But it... It was affecting him in many ways. Mentally, of course, as well. Being a ghost brought a lot of mind stuff with it. Because it changed up your whole mind. You were fixated on something. You didn't care for others. And more. Maybe other things. It was always different. And scary. "But... I-I don't… Have another explanation…. S-So..." He did realize that at least. He didn't know what to say. He felt like shit now. "What am I supposed to do? I'm sorry I'm asking so much of you- But I just don't know what… I don't know how I should feel. What I should do. What I /can/ do." It wouldn't be long until his body would just make poof. It was weird. Because it wasn't… His body wouldn't be left. It would become part of the ghostly entity. Whether that was good or not was questionable. And another good question? Could he even get killed-killed then? No body to burn. No object he was hanging at. Nothing. He was so confused.

You: "Well..." Gabriel replied as he stood, moving over to a small table covered in food, and picked up a plate of fruit. He popped a grape into his mouth and began to chew before answering, leaning a hip against the display. "The way I see it, you have a few options. Numbero Uno: You accept that your doomed and turn into a full on episode of Ghostbusters, ultimately forcing your brother to hunt you down, though... I'm not really sure how he'd kill you... I mean... You're kinda the brains of the operation and you wouldn't be a normal poltergeist, ya know?" He shrugged before eating another. "You could make another deal with a crossroads demon, though my money is on that backfiring but hey, you're a Winchester; you guys always fuck up beyond all reason before managing to fix it with something even more fucked." He pointed out before pausing. "Or... I can help fix you." He offered.

Stranger: Sam looked at him. This guy was really something special. You know, Sam thought he himself had issues. But this guy? Holy shit. He was weird. But... A good weird. Sam didn't dislike it- It was somewhat… Humorous. "I think we all know I would prefer the last option…" He admitted, calming down once again. Giant damn moodswings. "I would really appreciate it, too…" Even if he didn't know how this could be fixed. Usually, things that were connected to deals? They were set. Of course, they can be broken some ways. But mostly? Mostly said demons get what they want in the end. In this case? Ruin two Winchesters. Get the soul of one and make the other nothing more than one. As easy as that. "I mean, I'm sure being a ghost is fun, if you're into that sort of stuff, but I'd rather not. I prefer being able to, you know, exist physically…" He said with a small shrug. It was weird. Sam thought it might be unpleasant to be around Gabriel. But it just wasn't. He was somewhat of a hope, even. And fun. Even if Sam feared that he might do something bad any second.

You: Gabriel set the plate back down and straightened, rolling his shoulders as if prepping for manual labor. "You should really be careful what you wish for kiddo." He reminded. "Making a deal with a Trickster can be as bad as making on with a demon." He pointed out before moving to where Sam was still sitting on the floor. "This will make two favors." He added. "And this last one... I'm not sure if you're going to be able to pay up." He sighed before a hand went to Sam's chin to tilt his head back, leaning in close, close enough that their breaths mingled with one another. "Do you still want to do this?" He asked, gaze lowering to the larger man's lips. He wasn't going to kiss him, that was a demon thing. No, he didn't need that. But the closer they were the stronger his grace would be when it transfered. Still, he was curious how good of a kisser Sam would be. It was a distant thought though, as he waited for an answer.

Stranger: Sam didn't mind that, really. He trusted any being more than a demon. That was the way it was. He disgusted demons. So much. Nor did he mind the amount of favors, really. But one thing was surprising- When the other suddenly came VERY close. It was something he didn't expect. "U-Uh..." He let out the smallest noise of surprise, wanting to inch back- Yet not doing so. "I-I honestly don't know, but- But I suppose- I mean, yes- Not like I have a choice-" He said, in an awkward tone. Because right now? He felt awkward. Fact was, sure this guy was an asshole. And a murderer. Or… Something. Well- He was... He did… /Things/. Sam couldn't wrap his head around that to this day. But he still trusted him. Because it wasn't like he did anything necessarily… Super... Bad. Okay. Okay- A few people died. But still. Mostly it was in good spirit. Or something. Long story short- Sam was trusting Gabriel. Not as much as Dean, but still.

You: Gabriel tilted his head. "Alright, Sammich, you asked for it, just remember that." He teased with a small grin. His gaze began to glow a bright gold and the bluish white sliver of his grace escaped from his parted lips just an inch or so away from Sam's, drifting to the other man and entering him. Gabriel never really knew what it felt like to a human when they took in a part of an angels grace. He wasn't even sure if they noticed as long as it wasn't the full being. For Sam he would bet that it wasn't necessarily pleasant or unpleasant, it simply was. Gabriel straightened, his still golden gaze drifting over the seams of Sam's soul and watching as his grace wove around the tattered edges of the the magnificently bright essence that made of Sam. It wove its way through it, attaching it back to the vessel like a bandage. It would do nothing but hold Sam's soul in place for awhile, eventually allowing Sam's soul to absorb it, fusing into one being... something not quite an angel but not quite a human either and certainly not a nephelim. Sam would be something new... in time. The powers that he'd come to realize would be unique. It was something Gabriel was far more curious to see than he should be. Still, Gabriel had never done this particular trick before and it had a surprising effect. He could still sense his grace in the man, the sensation of it rubbing against the other man's soul was... off putting... no that wasn't quite the right word... it was... strange, of course... but... just... different. He couldn't help the frown that played on his lips as he lost himself in thought, still unwittingly staring at the man.

Stranger: Yeah. This was- This was /not/ what Sam expected would happen. He didn't even know /what/ just happened. And he tried to think about it, but frick- It was so /weird/. And he felt weird. And he didn't know whether to like or dislike it. And as it was over? There was just... Complete silence, as he still tried to figure out what had just happened. What the other just did. Silence. Really. Everything Sam could manage. After a few seconds of stares and more… Silence- Sam finally spoke up. He could… Feel whatever that was inside of him. Faintly. But he could. It was warm. Not an ew warm. An aw warm. "What… What was that- What did you… What did you do....?" He asked, voice almost… Shy. Because he felt so taken aback. So... Like he had just witnessed-... Who knows. The miracle of birth? A bird getting hit by a train? Well, most certainly something shocking, new and... Honestly weird. Basically.

You: [brb]

Stranger: [Take your time :) Do you wanna exchange something by the way? So we can reconnect? I really like this and you're so good!]

You: [Sure my email is spootilious@gmail.com if that works or do you want a tag?]

Stranger: [Nah, email works! Mine is T******************@gmail.com. Just so we are connected already :)]

You: [omfg "not an ew warm. An aw warm." I fucking love it!]

Stranger: [People always say they love it when I write that weirdly, idk why xD]

Stranger: [But thank chu]

You: [lol I think because its unique. But I can certainly see why the like it. It also might be because they relate to those kind of thoughts?]

Stranger: [Why, I'm glad you like it anyways. I sometimes think I might be overdoing it? I write it from the characters emotion standpoint. Like, when they're scared or panicked, I tend to make the writing quick. So if they're flustered, I tend to make the writing more awkward and more thought through. When they're happy, I try making it happy. Because- Atmosphere. But I think your writing is special too. It's good. Like- Novel kinda good. I can imagine it so well!]

You: Gabriel blinked, the glow fading from his gaze in an instant. "I fixed you." He answered as if it was nothing at all. In fact, he gave a small shrug to emphasis the nonchalance of it all. "A thank you would be nice." He teased. "Kids these days, I swear." He huffed but obviously wasn't offended in the least.

You: [Aw Ty! Yeah... I'm a English major so naturally I think my own writting is lacking so hearing that someone likes it is appreciated. ^.^]

Stranger: Sams eyes widened the slightest bit as he heard that. "Thank you-! I-I just... I mean…" He paused, unsure how to phrase it. After all, how was he supposed to phrase 'What the hell did you just do' in a way it sounded grateful? What was whatever just snaked its way inside of him- Ugh, wording it that way was also weird. "I just want to know /how/ you fixed me... And what that was- I mean… It's inside of me now- Whatever… I-I can feel it. It's… Weird." He blinked slightly. "Not- Not bad weird, no-" He quickly added afterwards, not wanting to hurt the other in any way. He was sort of helping him after all. Even if Sam didn't know how. So... Uh... Yeaah. "I just wanna know what you did… Okay?"

Stranger: [Aww, no problem!! But that's cool! I wanna become an English teacher when I'm done studying. My English may not be perfect, but well.]#

Stranger: [Hey, I've got to go to dinner. Will you reply on email? :)]

You: [sure]

Stranger: [Awesome! See you then! :D Love this so much!]

Stranger has disconnected.