#to admit she desires affection is to admit weakness and. sameness? she refuses to equate herself with anyone else

[fis-paprikas]

the thing about katya is that she on some level KNOWS she's in a tragedy. shes very aware of the cycle of violence she helps perpetuate. And yet she still plays into her role because the spotlight warms her a little. It can never truly replace connection and affection, but it feels good on the skin.

[puttingfingerstokeys]

thermodynamic equilibrium

there’s a fucking mouthful for ya. Fire and Ice (subscorp)... sorta hurt/comfort but in a gruff old guy ninja way??? idk I love these fuckers. Unedited and like, I didn’t bother messing with italics because I am, as you may have gathered, painfully lazy. Sequel to Heart and Fire.

Broken Timeline 

The furs-covered bed, broad and expansive, was plenty of room and then some for the Grandmaster. The “and then some” was occupied by his recently-returned lover, Hanzo Hasashi. Kuai Liang slept peacefully next to him, one arm tucked under Scorpion’s neck, with the man’s face pressed close into his chest, hands curled up somewhere between them, protective. Their bodies sprawled next to each other, entangled from earlier exertions and, since neither had been willing to part, there they stayed, chill against hot, pale against nut brown. We are truly balanced, then, aren’t we? Sub-Zero’s dreams drifted in and out of the sensible, as dreams did, leading him down the paths of old memory and then into uncharted fog, the future, perhaps. It was only when his dreams began to prickle and scorch that he stirred.

Hanzo did not stir. He lay motionless, making nary a sound. His body, however, was heating up at an alarming rate, rather like a fever. Sub-Zero awakened to the touch of scalding flesh upon him. He breathed deeply, seeking the cool, quiet spot, deep in his spirit, the place whence his ice would be summoned. They had done this before, many times, during Scorpion’s recovery. Takeda had graciously agreed to continue his post as interim Grandmaster of the Shirai-Ryu while Hanzo made the arduous trek back to true, thriving life. It was Kuai Liang’s pleasure to be the catalyst for this, despite Scorpion’s vehement protests.

Carefully, he wrapped his chilling arms tighter about the other man’s compact frame. Scorpion was tense, coiled like a spring, and the heat was becoming unbearable. Once more, Sub-Zero took a breath of cool night air, warmed by the braziers which burned low in his chambers, slowed by curtains and furs, but otherwise pure and unhindered. Hanzo pushed away from the grip instinctively, some part of him recognizing potential danger—either via memory or training. Kuai Liang redoubled his efforts and slowly began speaking to his friend. At first, he said little other than “you are safe” and “it is not real—whatever you are seeing is a dream”, which soon evolved into gentle declarations of adoration, protection, and deep, abiding affection.

By the time icy kisses began raining over Scorpion’s face, the man was awake and breathing hard, no longer fighting against Sub-Zero’s arms but pulling himself closer, clinging to the man like a life raft. His heart hammered violently in the confines of his broad chest and he was sweating hard, the droplets beginning to vaporize in the heat that his own body was producing. The shivering started soon after as Kuai Liang’s grip began to chill him to the very center and he finally, finally relaxed.

“That was interminable,” he growled irritably, nestling closer to Sub-Zero with a shudder he could not hold back. Still their limbs were entangled and so they stayed even as he shifted. “I do not know how much longer I can stand these… spells.”

“You have suffered great trauma, Hanzo, and loss,” Kuai Liang reminded him, reaching down to pull more furs up and over the two of them. He considered removing himself from the equation and sleeping atop them, holding Scorpion through their warmth, but it was clear from the way the Shirai-Ryu Grandmaster was laying that he did not want him to go anywhere. 

“I have suffered these things before,” snarled Scorpion.

“And you slept alone, then, struggling through it on your own.”

“I did not sleep.”

“Even worse, my Fire. You must recover yourself; your clan needs you, but they do not need one who refuses to do that properly.”

Scorpion stiffened. Sub-Zero knew just how to speak, what to say, and when, to slide deftly under the fiery ninja’s skin and prick him deep and thoroughly. He was right, of course. Long years as Grandmaster had taught Kuai Liang much, but he had learned even more growing up in the chilly ranks of the Lin Kuei, battling not only external foes, but internal in the form of his resentful brother, Bi-Han, and others who hardly deemed him worthy of the name Tundra, much less Sub-Zero.

My love has proven them wrong, he reminded himself, so many times over, I cannot count. It will do so again. He held Scorpion gently now, shifting back to peer into those white, inscrutable, wraith’s eyes. He missed the gentle, doe brown of Hanzo’s—the color that was wholly his and no one else’s. It was flecked with gold and glowed with inner fire Sub-Zero could not begin to describe, only to appreciate in gestures bordering on the worshipful.

Kuai Liang was content to rest in the silence, but he did not close his eyes, opting instead to continue watching Scorpion’s face. The man’s features were so refined and sharp that every twitch of a muscle seemed to change his whole countenance. Perhaps it was long years of knowing the man without his mask, but Sub-Zero thought his features were beautifully sculpted to tell any viewer with half a mind precisely what he was thinking.

Many seemed to miss these cues and ended up on the wrong side of Hanzo Hasashi’s hellfire temper. Even Kuai Liang himself had felt the heat, more than once, but rarely without purpose and always to good ends. He recalled their first serious conflict with relish and fondness. He had proposed the unity of their clans. When Scorpion had responded with expected hostility, having only recently began the road to rebuilding the Fire Gardens and the Shirai-Ryu, Sub-Zero had merely stated he would reiterate his proposal when he, Scorpion, had “cooled down”.

This had, naturally, caused Hanzo’s ire to rise to a fever pitch and the battle had been glorious. Kuai Liang still bore a few scars from it and he noticed that Scorpion did, too. They were well-matched and what had finished it, what had saved them both from unnecessary pain, was Sub-Zero’s powerful arms, closing around Scorpion’s body, holding tight, and deep freezing him. “I will cool you down, then,” he had said, speaking it into the Shirai-Ryu ninja’s ear as the man lost consciousness. 

Once again, it was this same technique which was helping to pull Hanzo Hasashi out of that space of nightmares and hellscapes which was the subconscious, unconscious mind of a survivor of Netherrealm’s deepest pits.

“I will bear these scars for the rest of my life,” Scorpion said, staring into Sub-Zero’s eyes, daring him to argue. Nodding, Sub-Zero brought his lips to the man’s forehead, laying them there gently, without urgency, drawing back as he pleased.

“I know you will,” he said quietly. “Your body and mind are a tapestry of your story—we are all stories, but some of us are … page-turners.”

His smile was soft, just as gentle as the kiss he had offered up. It softened Hanzo’s expression marginally and Kuai Liang felt himself breathe a mental sigh of relief. He was afraid it would come to blows, as it sometimes did. Likely, now, they would speak a while, talk of the past, of the future, of the present, and then perhaps make love before drifting off once more.

Their athleticism had not waned in their time apart, but upon Sub-Zero’s insistence, they were taking it relatively easy on the intimacy front. He knew it frustrated his companion, but the last thing he wanted to do was prolong Hanzo’s recovery time because they had been a little too ambitious. He didn’t mind having the man around. Ideally, Scorpion would simply retire, leave the Shirai-Ryu to Takeda, a very worthy successor, and come to live with him at Arctika, permanently.

He knew there was more of a chance to see Lord Raiden’s hair.

“Takeda is a worthy man,” Hanzo whispered hoarsely, dropping his gaze, wishing only to talk now. 

“You trained him well,” said Sub-Zero, his compliment not a hollow one. He had seen the Shirai-Ryu fight and they were all proficient and dangerous, as assassins ought to be, but Takeda was on another level entirely. Perhaps it was his innate telepathy that gave him an edge, but without training, it would otherwise be useless.

“He is a son to me,” stated Scorpion almost too flatly, as if he, working so hard to conceal his emotions regarding Takeda Takahashi, had overcompensated and utterly drained the statement of its life’s blood. Sub-Zero understood. He tightened his hold a moment. “I know I have no right,” Hanzo continued, “as he is already the son of another, but his firstborn bears my name, so I am responsible for him.” 

“He is responsible for himself, as every Earthrealm warrior should be,” Kuai Liang returned, “and besides, no Shirai-Ryu is alone, are they? You are family.”

“I do not like the separation,” admitted Hanzo, his voice barely above a whisper once more, afraid to admit this aloud, too. “I feel I am… failing them, weakening the clan.”

“You have added to your ranks, my Fire—Jacqueline Briggs is more than a competent kombatant. She makes Takeda a better man and he makes her a better woman; they sharpen each other as lovers must do. They are the ideal for your clan and family.”

Struck by the passion of Sub-Zero’s speech, Scorpion looked up again, reading much and more in his companion’s features, but still not quite able to discern whence this fervor had come. His heart was even beating faster, which it never did. A kryomancer’s heart was almost always on low, relatively speaking. This alarmed Hanzo, but he said nothing, content to see what would come next.

“You are family,” Kuai Liang repeated, “and… I desire to… also be part of your family, Hanzo.” He paused, pursing his lips and considering, but never, ever breaking eye contact with Scorpion. The man was not unlike a beast, at times, and dropping one’s gaze was absolutely a sign of weakness—something he could not afford right now, if his wishes, his deepest, most pure desires were to be fulfilled. “Do me the honor, if you would, Grandmaster, of being mine… permanently, in blood and covenant, forever.”

It was not a question.

And it need not have been. Scorpion expected force and vigor from his lover and this was precisely that, and then some. His surprise came from the fact that the proposal had followed yet another of his episodes, each one of which he considered shameful and a mark upon his honor. Every single time, he had vowed in blood that it would be his last. Each time, he knew Sub-Zero knew better. Did he hate this or love it about the man? He could not decide.

“An alliance,” he grunted. Kuai Liang laughed, a hoarse sound, but not without joy, not by a long shot. He squeezed Hanzo tightly once more and buried his face in the man’s hair, breathing deep the scent of the one he loved more than his own life.

“Yes, you silly fool, an alliance,” said Sub-Zero, still laughing and once more drawing Scorpion to him, this time pressing their lips together, long and slow. The heat of Hanzo’s mouth and the chill of Kuai Liang’s mixed somewhere in the center of complete comfort and the beginnings of tantalizing satisfaction. The conclusion would arrive hours later in breathless gasps and the sound of each other’s names, spoken with reverence and gravity, the spill of their love preceding deep, restful sleep until the rosy fingers of dawn caressed them and they arose to the winter wonderland of Arctika and a new day.

[msruart]

not toasting to the groom ; a lams fic

in which i don’t exactly know how to format things, so i just ramble away on my keyboard and hope something good is produced (and also, it’s 2:30AM here but i’m posting this now so i don’t forget to later on)

this is the first fic for hamilton i’ve ever written, if that wasn’t already obvious! so bare with me and this horrible angst i dared to write, and thank you for giving this a read!

----------

He should have known it would end up this way.

It wasn't a matter of doubt, no - there wasn't a moment that he considered Alexander's claims of affection to be anything but genuine. Alexander was a passionate man, the type that wears his heart on his sleeve, one who says what is meant with every sliver of honesty that can be mustered.

John knew this, as he knew most everything about Alex - and he quite enjoyed his displays of affection, more than he would like to admit. He wasn't very capable of expressing his love in the same way: though he would occassionally find himself pouring his heart out into a letter like Alexander often did, he mostly reserved his emotions for their more personal and physical interactions. He liked to tell himself that he did so because he felt that touch and warmth were more expressive than words could ever be - but the harsh reality of emotional traumas he faced at the hands of his father and many others were the more likely culprit.

But no, it was not doubt of love that made John berate himself for being foolish enough to pursue this - It was simply Alexander's tendencies.

John had learned enough about Alexander to know that the man was hopelessly weak to the allure of women. Of course, he desired affections from men almost as relentlessly; he could often be found admiring his male peers as they spoke, obviously enthralled with more than the words that were escaping their lips. But Alexander was very much a tomcat, a serial womanizer - in the presence of women he turned sultry and overly flirtatious, attempting to catch their affections in any way possible.

John knew that someday Alexander would be wed to a woman that he was truly in love with. Something in him pushed this fact to the very back of his mind, though - far enough into the depths of his conscious that he did not even consider how drastically his life was going to change once Alex became engaged. Far enough that he had never even thought of the time he would spend lying awake trying to fit the pieces of his shattered heart back together again.

These sleepless nights would be spent feeling insecure and foolish - he knew this was going to happen. He knew that he would not remain the man's partner for very long, what with Alexander's fervent desire for the love and touch of a female, and of course, their inability to pursue their relationship any further than something that could be equated to a secret affair. It's not like they could ever marry, considering such a thing was unheard of between two men, and they wouldn't have been able to have children, either; something he knew Alex had always wanted. 

Every night he dreaded the day of the wedding. He hated the fact that it was going to happen - he did not want the day that Alexander would no longer be his to come. He knew it would be like a bad dream - a horrible, inescapable nightmare, more like it. He'd see the man that he fell in love with all that time ago, sworn off to another person, someone else Alex was deeply, madly in love with. He knew it would be bittersweet - Eliza was a wonderful woman, one of the most sweet and genuine people he'd ever met, and he wanted Alex to be happy. He knew Eliza gave him that. But still - the thought of the two sharing the same affections him and Alex had shared made him more uneasy than he wanted. His brain constantly berated him with thoughts of "she'll never love him like you," and "he lied to you,". John pushed them away, forcing his eyes shut in a weak attempt to clear his mind and drift off to sleep.

Man, he thought. I am going to have to be new levels of intoxicated to get through that night.

--- 

He shouldn't have done this to him. 

He doesn't regret what they had become, no. He was absolutely in love with the man - John was softness and gentleness and a beacon of light in Alexander's life, someone that offered moments of peace during the hectic atmosphere that the war provided. But then there was Eliza, and god, he could not help himself. She was an ethereal beauty, and the way she held him made him want to spend every waking moment with her. It made him feel dishonest. 

He so desperately wished that he could keep his relationships with both of them stable at the same time - he had always found himself attracted to more than one person at once, feeling no need to keep his love for others inside of him. But something about the way they all were, and the state of their lives - the bloodshed, the fear, the fighting - John wouldn't be able to handle it. Alex wasn't quite sure he could, either. 

But he could tell how much the news damaged John - He noticed how the man's usually cheery demeanor became one of monotony: he was always quite distant, never really present in their discussions of strategies, or in the friendly conversations Alex attempted to initiate with him. Alex sometimes saw him zeroing out of reality, staring off into space during times when he should have been paying proper mind. And he knew it was all because of him.

They had conversations about it afterward, but they were all quite short-lived and unemotional. Alex wants to talk about it, John wants to talk about other things. Alex still loves him, John knows. Alex didn't intend for it to work out this way, John knows. Alex is sorry, John knows. John knows. John knows. 

Alexander was excited for the wedding, of course. He would finally be officially dedicated himself to one of the loves of his life - Elizabeth Schuyler, the woman of his dreams. But every time he thought of the commitment he was making, he thought of the one he was tearing to shreds in the process. He felt as though he had taken a rifle to John's heart - and, despite John's cries and please for mercy, he had pulled the trigger.

He found himself in bed at night, his mind heavy with the weight of his emotions, second guessing every kiss, every touch, every heartfelt confession of affection. Had he been wrong in this? Was their relationship a mistake? Should he have kept his feelings hidden, as to avoid the inevitable disconnect they would have when Alexander found himself attracted to marriage?

He attempted to push away the thoughts as well. My sincerest apologies, my dearest Laurens, he whispered to nobody before shutting his eyes. 

--- 

The night of the wedding, a night of turmoil and happiness had arrived. 

Alexander was happier then he'd ever been, aside from the slight guilt that lingered in his heart, refusing to leave.

John had already consumed his fair share of champagne, amongst other things, assuring that he would be fairly inebriated - at least during the vows.

---

Alexander and Eliza were sitting next to each other. It was time for the toasts. 

"Now everyone, give it up for the maid of honor, Angelica Schuyler!" John's slightly slurred voice echoed through the hall.

He was going to let Angelica do this instead. He wouldn't be speaking tonight.

--- 

thanks for readin! more to come, hopefully.