#black mirror fanfic

[gibson-g1rl]

no I literally need him inside my veins

I want him inside my skin

I need him so bad this isn’t funny anymore

[hisemoslut]

CW:NSFW

I’ve been waiting for a good day to post so here are twitter links i found with added story line

Kappa: You would have been being a brat all day while he’s trying to do his thing and run his cult, so he pulls you into the nearest bedroom to “punish” you, but in the end, you get exactly what you want.

High mutual Masturbation with Clyde

You had been teasing R!Euro all day long, wearing the shortest things you could find, walking around the house all acting innocent, and you decided to wear a very special outfit to his show later on that night. After the show you didn’t even make it home; he fucks you right there in his dressing room, not caring who hears

Jack coming home from a long day at work and immediately fucks you in the kitchen.

You are trying to study for your exams with Charlie. He gets needy and keeps distracting you, so you decide to give him what he wants and ride him, but since he has been distracting you, you decide not to let him cum.

[insxghtt]

soulmates — kappa x reader

(sorry if this is a mess, i wrote it last night under the influence of a high dose of quetiapine. my insomnia fellas will understand.)

i see a lot of people talking about kappa as this bad boy figure, kinda similar to euronymous but, in my mind, kappa is waaayyy more charming. i mean, he has to be! after all, he is a cult leader and cult leaders rarely show their followers explicit violence.

i think what we saw in black mirror was the dark side of kappa, one that he only shows to his most faithful followers. the other side we didn't get to see is the kind kappa, the personality he has on most of the time. this manipulative, charismatic, charming kappa is the one who would convince you to do the most insane things for him.

first one, joining a cult. but, of course, you didn't call it a cult. no, you called it a family.

kappa was very good at reading people and as soon as he laid eyes on you, he knew you were an easy target. you were so fragile, so he did what no one else ever thought about doing. he took care of you. he showed you love.

it was hard to see kappa as this evil cult leader because he was the kindest soul you had ever met. he was different from all of the other men you had in your life. he treated you with respect.

kappa genuinely loved you. it wasn't healthy, but he genuinely loved you. gosh, he was obsessed with you. you were his godess. he knew about every detail about your life, which is why it was so easy for him to manipulate you into staying. that's why you never even realized that you were trapped.

but again, maybe kappa wasn't the only one with a dark side. you had it in you and he could see it too, which is why he chose you in the first place. the two of you were a mix made in hell.

he was possessive over you, but you were just the same way. although kappa wasn't monogamic, he was faithful to you because he could never ever ever be so obsessed with anyone else.

you two had this open, confused, agitated relationship, but there was one rule you two followed whithout question, and that rule was: other people were only allowed if the two of you consent to it.

other people could only have you, touch you, want you when he was right there watching, and vice versa.

the few times kappa lost his temper in front of the other followers, it was because of you. well, not you, but other man trying to get to you without your (and his) consent. kappa would suddenly become a beast, filled with rage.

he had the other guy pinned against the wall with a knife against his throat. the man was clearly intoxicated, which was the reason why he dared to even approach you in the first place. everyone knew you belonged to kappa. no one would dare to mess with you.

the guy was having a hard time breathing, too scared to even blink. kappa was staring into his soul like a mad man. everyone else in the room, who were partying just a few minutes ago, was now frozen in silence.

you were watching as you thought that maybe you should intervene and try to calm him down, but you didn't really want to. kappa looked so pretty when he was mad. his rough hands were holding the guy by his shirt, the veins in his arms and neck were more visible, his messy hair was covering part of his face, but you could still see his eyes burning with rage.

you rolled your eyes and touched his shoulder delicately and kappa immediately felt his muscles relax. he let go of the guy and watched as he ran away out of the room.

you were kappa's favorite drug. just one small dose of you was enough to make him forget all of his problems.

he turned to you and you gave him a kiss on the lips. just like that, kappa could hardly remember about what had just happened.

but when you were jealous, things were a little different. from times to times, when someone new joined the family, you would notice a girl staring at kappa in a more seducive, flirty way. kappa was very attractive and charming and everyone in the family looked up to him. some people developed feelings for him in the process and you hated it.

and when bitches try to get your man, that's when you become a beast yourself.

you were not as impulsive as kappa. no, you carefully observed and waited for the right time to get rid of them. you were quiet, calm and precise. not only you would stop them from getting what was yours, you would make sure they were completely removed from your lives.

out of the sudden, one of the guns would magically disappear for a day or two, just to be found later in the bag of clothes of one of the new girls. she swore she hadn't taken it, but you didn't believe her and, if you didn't, kappa didn't believe her either.

so you tried to hide your smile as you watched him send her away. he hated to do that, but one thing that kappa valued the most was honesty and he refused to let someone who had lied about stealing one of his guns be part of the family.

kappa would never know. behind his back, you made sure to keep all the girls away from him. of course you were good to them most of the time. you loved some of those girls like they were your sisters, but the ones who didn't respect the rules were easily discarted.

it wouldn't be right to say that you and kappa were a good match, but you two were definitely soulmates. he was made for you, you were made for him and nothing in the world could ever change that.

[gh0stgirl000]

I want Jack Thurlow to mansplain to me SO HARD LIKE PLEASE

TELL ME WHY I HAVE NO BUSINESS PONTIFICATING

AND WHY YOU LISTENING TO FUCKING BEETHOVEN MAKES YOU BETTER THAN ME

pleaseeeeee

[cc-0420]

y’all need a demon au for your new fanfic? cause the new black mirror episode “demon 79″ got me kicking my feet and twirling my hair

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

Schism

Summary: Combat boots :)

Pairing: Kappa x gn!Reader

Word Count: < 1k

Content Warnings: Degradation/Humiliation, It's Not BDSM With Them It's Consensual Violence, Petplay-ish, Allusions To Smut 18+!, Spit, Blood

A/N: This thing was prompted by this delightful post here! @chainsawgvtsfvck

Tagging: @starry-eyed-wild-child @blueberrypancakesworld

... sadly not Artie 🥲

@angelsanarchy Ash! Remember the screen caps you made for me last year? 🤩

Pure intention juxtaposed

Will set two lovers' souls in motion

Disintegrating as it goes

Testing our communication

- Schism By Tool

“Down.” A simple, brief command cutting through the atmosphere like an angled razor blade.

And before the last letter had bounced off the walls you went down on all fours like the obedient little lap dog you were and Kappa watched you, the expression on his face unmoved but a certain flicker in his half-lidded eyes gave him away; the pride he felt for having trained you so well glazing over his retina.

You put your cheek to the unloving concrete floor, cold cement against flushed skin.

“Now that's what I call a good mutt.” Kappa snarled, front teeth grazing over a slightly chapped bottom lip, flakey skin getting caught and torn off as the faint, metallic taste of blood slithered over a prodding tongue.

You remained silent, well aware and knowing that he preferred it that way. Don't talk unless you are being demanded to.

He titled his head and a strand of stringy black curls fell into his face like a tantalizing pendulum, fixating all your attention on him, unbothered by how he stepped towards you, the thick soles of wrinkly, worn out combat boots clinking against the floor.

“You just know that I like to make myself comfortable, don't you pet?”, You nodded, gaze transfixed on his face to read every little whim or change of mood immediately, “Yeah, you do.”

Your eyes didn't flutter shut as he raised his right foot, shoelaces dangling along your mouth before he pressed down harsh enough for your jaw to crunch, bone holding on to the socket for dear life - a little more and it would probably just slip out. Yet, you didn't wince or howl out, no, you took what was given to you and you took with gratefulness and decorum.

Kappa leaned down, eyeing you properly for a few breaths, testing if you'd break and beg him to stop applying so much pressure to your pretty face, sniffling that you'd make it up to him, apologizing and insisting that you'd blow him until your jaw went slack from that instead but this time you didn't, even as he tilted his ankle until your lips dropped agape, flesh being squished between cement and the bendable vinyl rubber of his boots. Not a single sound to be heard from your mouth. He felt himself getting hard just by thinking about your whimpered apologetic pleas.

“I'm in a benevolent mood today, pet.” Kappa commented on himself as he reduced the force on your jaw swiftly after, however, still keeping his boot firmly plastered to your cheek.

His eyes narrowed down in a pretentious play of concentration, slender fingers reaching for the bootstraps before he began tying them in meticulous artistry, hole for hole, looping the cords through before tightening them up. Saliva started trickling from the corner of your mouth and pulling around your cheek in a damp, tacky puddle.

“Look at how well you do that for me, mutt.” He truly was in a giving mood today, so much so that he adorned your face with a quickly reddening imprint of his sole, ridge for ridge welting up from brow down to your chin.

A barely even there, merely articulated Thank You slithered past your lips in a moment of complete subspace bliss as he was to turn away from you.

“Huh?” Kappa bellowed more than spoke, eyes widening and brows arching in distrust.

You stared at him, hoping that he would let it slip but there was no letting it pass of you failing on the last crucial meters to the finish line.

“The fuck was that, mutt? I know ‘m not hearing voices.” Teeth teared across his bottom lip anew, agitated and gnashing, wanting to sink into something.

Instead, in a literal knee jerk reaction, his leg kicked forward, the steel cap of his combat boots drilling into your ribcage; blunt force trauma inevitable and you whined out as the dull pain spread into thinner, more agonizing roots.

Your whole body twitched and jolted together, arms flailing to grab at your knees and pull them to your chest in an attempt to shield you from further assault.

“I'm sorry, sir. Please.” You sniffled between a snotty nose and an tearing eyes, not the physical pain but the emotional despair from your own failure pulling the wash of moisture from your tear ducts.

“Please what, bastard? HUH?”, In an erratic gesture, Kappa rolled his head from shoulder to shoulder, “Hou makin’ demands now?!”

You shook your head fervently, biting the very tip of your tongue to shut the fuck up.

“I better fucking hope so!” He snarled at you before his tongue pushed between bottom lip and a row of slightly crooked teeth, gathering an amalgamation of spit and blood before ejecting the milky pink mixture right into your face.

“This will have consequences.”

[kaidan-z]

hear me out.

Gaap in Demon 79😇

Black Mirror S6

i was rewatching it last night and my little crush reformed...

now hold awnnnnn...

@moralesirl @punkinthev0id @urmadiik @pingledoofus

[heartxi]

"'Toujours pur'? Guess this would be 'toujours aimé', huh? Which one would you choose?"

fic: Mirror of Ecidyrue by starbrigid

i could write a thousand essays on this line alone

[heartless-yama]

The amount of lies that Draco has distributed to people in The Mirror of Ecidyrue series feels like a web you have to try and memorize so you don't forget who knows the truth on which topics.

Mountains of lies this boy carries.

[toxicyaoibeliever]

What am I even supposed to do after finishing the mirror of Ecidyrue? I feel like nothing ever will be as good as this. Am I supposed to just go on with living????

[quordleona03]

Hawkeye and Mulcahy 7,8,24 :3

Okay, so I've already had Mulcahy by himself for a couple of asks, so I'm going to assume this question is Hawkeye -and-Mulcahy, for morale.

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

Hawkeye and Mulcahy are a niche pairing - I'm awfully well aware of that. I like stories which pair Hawkeye and BJ or Hawkeye and Trapper (or even Hawkeye and Charles!) just fine. BUT: Hawkeye and Mulcahy clearly have a deep and abiding friendship and respect; they turn to each other for help and emotional support as neither of them do to anyone else: and I like it tremendously when fandom acknowledges this even when Hawkeye is romantically involved with someone else (and Mulcahy perpetually vowed to Someone Else).

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

There are so few Hawkeye/Mulcahy stories on AO3 - or anywhere - that anything I say as critical as "despise" would be a personal criticism, and since I appreciate everyone who's at work in our little niche, I don't want to do that.

I do not get along with depictions of Mulcahy as a sadist, as a masochist, as a judgemental preacher, or as an easy victim. I do not get along with Hawkeye in any of those roles either. They're both very tough, very kind people - who could be broken by circumstances, sure, but who wouldn't break easily and who would themselves be fighting their way back to recovery. That said - ther are now 164 Hawkeye/Mulcahy stories on AO3, a numerical majority of them not written by me or by Iolanthe, and how could I complain about that?

24. What other character from another fandom of yours that reminds you of them?

George Cowley and Francis Mulcahy for their deep reserve and sense of responsibility. (They have otherwise nothing in common.) Methos and Hawkeye - for their ability to react. immediately, and think outside the box. (They have otherwise nothing in common.) Hawkeye, Spock, and Methos have in common that they are all the Little Black Dress of fandom. - you can pair each of them off with virtually anyone and make sense of it.

Picard and Bagoas as a married couple - in that they are married (legally and publicly, in the case of my ST:tng couple) while being aware that there are vast amounts of their lives they cannot share with each other, and working through it to stay married anyway.

House and Hawkeye are both eccentric but brilliant doctors. They have nothing otherwise in common. Geseja and Francis are both deeply religious people, who cling to their faith to make sense of an awful situation. Otherwise, they not only don't have anything in common, they don't even share a religion. I've written Mirrorverse series for both Spock and McCoy and Hawkeye and Mulcahy. I've written slave!stories for B7 and for Trek and for MASH, and I saw Vila and McCoy and Mulcahy as the character most likely to be able to endure and survive being enslaved - though they have nothing otherwise in common.

Ask meme

[hisemoslut]

Should I start writing fanfics if so which Rory character

[cienie-isengardu]

Cracked Mirror of Black, Cold Soul [Chapter 2]

Author notes: Continuation of this, formely posted just as "MK1 Fanfiction".

I'm writing it as Shang Tsung & Bi-Han's sort of friendship but if anyone like it as Bi-Han/Shang Tsung then that's great too. Also, nothing dark/graphic so far, but maybe in future I will go more into Shang Tsung's experiments, poverty and probably a bit depression. Just saying in advance as I'm aware my idea of "not graphic" may vary from other people's.

No enemy has come that day or another nor the next week. Shang Tsung fell back into his routine - studying, training, experimenting, once in a while getting the needed supplies, and then studying more, training more, creating more devious traps to apparently keep a certain cryomancer amused. The books and scrolls kept disappearing and showing up a few days later, even if he did not see Sub-Zero for weeks. 

Sometimes there was a note attached to returned volumes. Usually short messages, about Li Mei’s search for him or General Shao’s impatience or a new bounty on their heads or to avoid a specific place at certain times. He read the notes, mesmerized its contents, then burned the paper to not leave any unnecessary loose ends if he ever was forced to abbadon the fortress in a hurry.  

Sometimes the note said trivial things. Like under any circumstances do not eat those mushrooms you moron! - and indeed the mushrooms he found in a nearby field disappeared without a trace from his kitchen. Which was truly a shame, for if those truly were toxic he could at least study them to make a new poison or maybe even magic potion or two. More often than not though the message was clean up the mess! which did not amuse him at all. A bit of blood here and there and a misplaced organ or two and everyone was a critic these days. Like it was his fault the creative process at times got messy. No genius was even truly understood and in such moments he did miss Damashi, her kind hand on his back, the melodic voice encouraging him to transcend the boundaries of already possessed knowledge.

Sub-Zero sounded more like a mother hen than a deadly warrior and Shang Tsung for sure did not need anyone mothering him. He was a grown up man, he survived living in Outworld’s wild, uncaring hinterlands alone for hundredth of years, he did not need anyone’s help nor care. It was a matter of pride but also the bitter taste of betrayal that held him back from trusting anyone ever again.

He left his own notes then.

Stop fussing, I knew the mushrooms were poisonous, even though he had no idea, as he had never heard of poisonous mushrooms before. There were plenty of dangerous places in Outworld yet not many uneatable things to worry about. And sure, the fungus looked funny, with nice red caps and pretty white dots, like snow that embellished blood pool, which was specifically a reason why he picked it up in the first place. But why should he not, if the island was part of the Edenia realm and the mainland not so far away? The climatic zone was correct, the ruins were covered with Edenian letters even if the words made little sense to him. As far as he managed to check, he did not find any unusual plants here, no new animal species. Up to this moment, he had no reason to worry about flora and fauna surrounding him as nothing stood out… well, maybe beside the one white pigeon that so eagerly cooed at the sight of him and as it turned out, the funny mushrooms he found by accident and collected on impulse. The sense of danger did not cross his mind and if not Sub-Zero’s warning, he would eat the mushrooms soon. Maybe the edenian blood would neutralize the toxins that Earthrealmer was so concerned about, or maybe not. Now, he had no means to test it one way or another. Begrudgingly he accepted that Lin Kuei potentially saved, if not his life from food poisoning then at least his dignity, but the man did not need to know that.

The note disappeared the day he wrote it, alongside a few scrolls. A week later the paper showed up in the same spot with additional DID YOU?, and even the carefully calligraphed few edenian letters sneered at him mockingly. The rush of blood burned his cheeks and he did not need the mirror to know how red his face was. Out of anger, pure anger, not embarrassment, he told himself firmly while the note turned into ash in his hand. He wanted to burn much more and he would do so, if not the book on which note was left.

Shang Tsung stared at the thick book with a deeply red cover, pondering whether he should open it and bear the reason why the annoying Earthrealm left it there or just fed the flames of hearth with that blasted thing. It didn't matter what was inside the book, only how to not lose the weird game they played for weeks, with no rules and no clear idea who was actually winning. Losing never sat well with him and yet he couldn’t help himself than take a chance, any chance, to prove how better, smarter he was compared to others. And Sub-Zero clearly was exploiting that weakness, slowly and deliberately with each little note, each little sharp remark and additional subtext hidden in black ink, in elegant shape of letter. 

The man mocked him and challenged and Shang Tsung loved that game and cursed it in the same breath. The island was a wonderful sanctuary as much as a lonely, dark place and Sub-Zero, whatever the man knew or not, brought so needed entertainment to keep the sorcerer from going mad. Not that Shang Tsung would ever admit that aloud but fact remained a fact, whether he liked it or not.

The book was definitely not made in Outworld. It was not even a matter of unfamiliar letters but the whole texture of deeply red cover and snowy-white pages inside. Once opened, it smelled of ink but not like the yellowed, hand-written books did. To his own surprise, the smell reminded him of freshness, something new and still unspoiled, so it couldn’t be a second-handed volume either. This pleased him, more than it should. Before Damashi walked into his life, he rarely could afford to buy good quality items; the tailored robes and beautifully illustrated books were always out of his reach. How many times he stared at the richness of colors, how many times inhaled the storm of unique, unknown smells when he passed the small town’s market only to turn away from each stall? When a person needed to choose between food or new shoes for he could afford only one, it was no choice at all. The basic needs always processed anything frivolous, for luxury was nothing more than just a sweet dream to lull the poorest to sleep and torment them by day. 

Shang Tsung now had the money and means to spoil himself with the best; the finest food and sweetest wine, the most soft fabrics and tailored robes, the expansive magic ingredients he dreamed of having as a child. So of course fate spit into his face, as now the gold meant nothing. Only the power he held mattered. The same power now threatened by Fire Lord and Empress Mileena and even by his maybe-still-maybe-not allies.

A warmth spread through his cold, bitter soul at the mere thought the book was brand new and brought specially for him. Even if Sub-Zero did so only to scoff at him, to mock, he still went with the finest gift and not some rubbish. The gesture touched him, surprisingly deeply. Not many people these days bothered to spoil him a bit here and there.

Encouraged by the treacherous feeling, he opened the book on the first page and slowly started examining its content. He couldn’t read it though, as Damashi taught him only how to speak Earthrealm’s most common languages - the one similar to Edenian and the so-called English that tasted weird on his tongue whenever he was forced to use it. Damashi promised soon it would be irrelevant knowledge anyway, so he did not bother learning the unfamiliar letters. Like all other promises of hers, this one too turned out to be a false prophecy. With each passing day, the choking realization hurt a bit less. Each passing day also proved how much she witholded and weakened him on purpose, how much he needed to learn all those supposedly meaningless little things anyway.

Looking back, how he admired the mysterious woman, how he desired her praise and smile, was such a laughable memory. What an ally she turned out to be! And yet, Damashi taught him everything he knew about true magic and above all else, the final lesson will forever stay with him: to never trust anyone, especially those kind to him.

But… Sub-Zero wasn’t necessarily nice to him and he took as much as he gave, considering the rate at which books and precious scrolls disappeared all the time. There was no promise of great power, no sweet praise to make Shang Tsung starve for more attention. The man barely interacted with him in person, more interested in knowledge hidden between yellow pages than what Shang Tsung could do for him. A fair deal, a secret for secret, as apparently Sub-Zero liked to collect those, even the most trivial ones and he did bring a lot of important news to the sorcerer in exchange. 

It wasn’t a kindness, Shang Tsung hummed to himself, just the fairest deal he ever made. 

And who could know where this little deal will take them in future? Honestly has never been his forte while Lin Kuei Grandmaster was as straightforward as a killer could be anyway. And yet so far they balanced well between a little sweet lie here and brutal truth there. No matter how many times he asked, Sub-Zero did not reveal how he found the island nor how he got in and out of there, the same as Shang Tsung never spoke about his experiments done in the laboratory. They just accepted the unspoken agreement as it was, for now at least, and he cherished the weird comfort of having someone around while also not being directly questioned with the endless list of why, when, if.

The book felt heavy in his hand - heavier than it had right to be for with offered knowledge came a pitiful hope.

Maybe Sub-Zero could, if not outright teach, then at least help him to learn Earthrealm letters… if the words found a way to slip through the tight throat and clenched teeth. Asking for help was, in his experience, a sign of weakness he couldn’t afford. Yet he couldn’t afford to stay ignorant either, and the beautiful book held in hands tempted with promises of great knowledge - if he could read it.

Not for the first time he wondered why Sub-Zero wrote all the little notes left for Shang Tsung in the sorcerer’s own language. After the first time seeing the familiar letters of his native dialect in elegant yet unknown handwriting, he figured out that Lin Kuei already checked out his background and gathered all that was out there to learn from; to steal secrets and maybe even blackmail him if needed. Shang Tsung was not concerned about it, as there was not much to collect. A pitiful life of a lone salesman left little to remember about in the minds of common folks. Even if Lin Kuei managed to track down his former clients, those naive, desperate fools from all Outworld hinterlands, all they would learn was the obvious truth: the old-him was a fraud, a cheater, a loser never loved or missed even by his own folks.

Lin Kuei could learn more from his time at Sindel’s court, however Empress Mileena waged war on them. Not that it stopped Sub-Zero and his men from slipping into capitol, in her own palace, but some secrets still were out of their reach, at least for now. 

The only question left was if Sub-Zero knew the sorcerer couldn’t read Earthrealm’s letters and indulge Shang Tsung out of pragmatism? Or was that matter of courtesy, some good manners that mattered to Grandmaster enough to bother? The sorcerer did not like the uncertainty but he couldn’t ask, not yet, for asking meant admitting great lacking in his worldly education. Even worse, admitting the Lin Kuei Grandmaster - anyone - was better than him, and it didn’t matter how trivial such superiority was. 

Shang Tsung could bear Royal Family and Liu Kang’s Champions mockery and hate without blinking an eye, but he would faster swallow his own tongue than allow his maybe-maybe-not ally to think he was the lesser one in their partnership.

But why Grandmaster didn’t just write the next messages in English or any other Earthrealm’s language to test Shang Tsung and then to mock his illiteracy? Why not push and push, until he couldn’t lie anymore and needed to admit defeat? Why did the man spared him the humiliation when even his own, godly-self had no mercy?

It was the riddle that bothered Shang Tsung the most. Not the uncertainty itself, but faint yet no less warm hope that, despite bitter memories, filled his cold, black soul. 

Kindness was a dangerous, treachery tool that could hurt much more than open mockery. He did not want to feel that pain ever again. And yet, like a fool he was, Shang Tsung craved it more than the finest food or wine. To be acknowledged as something more than just a pitiful, poor copy of another, greater sorcerer - to be treated like his own entity worth someone’s time and effort. 

He craved it and how could he not, when the book, though definitely of Earthrealm origin, didn’t feel like a cruel joke? 

Yes, he could not read it, as the letters were unfamiliar, but there was a mark in each corner and, as he guessed, the skull placed there meant he was not allowed to eat the mushroom present on the page. Yes, he could not learn the secrets hidden between letters, but each page had its own stunning illustration. The pictures were so realistic, like he was looking at mushrooms just found in the forest or an open field. He had no idea what magic it was, but the illustrations were so gorgeous and bright with colors he had never seen in any Outworld book before. It needed to be magic, for those couldn’t be drawn, as the texture of the paper was... slippery under his fingers, but in a nice way.

The book was only about mushrooms, and yet each new page made his blood rush faster through the veins, heart beating strongly. When did he feel so good holding a book last time? He could not remember.

(A lie. He did remember. It was the same excitement he felt when Damashi for the first time showed him an old volume about elements to explain what magic is, how to draw it from the world around. It was also the first time she mentioned cryomancers, that they were real people and not some demons from old, almost forgotten legends. When he asked, intimidated by his own boldness, if he would have a chance to meet any, Damashi laughed, a sparkling laugh full of approval that he fell head over heels in love with. She promised he will, soon, and it was one of few promises she kept.)

Somehow halfway through the book, the red capped, speckled with white dots mushroom proudly showed up on page. Oh, he knew that one pretty well now, even if he had no idea how Earthrealm’s fungus got so far away from its native environment... But that thought faded right away, as the thing that held all his attention now was a small note stuck to the paper under the illustration. The elegant, familiar letter said ARE YOU STILL MAD? 

Yes, he wanted to say, to write it back on paper and stick to their usual place for notes. But the treacherous chuckle broke free before he could do any of it. To know how well Sub-Zero knew him despite barely talking to each other should freeze his blood. Yet all he felt was the weird warmness. Cryomancer should not make one feel cozy, not when a mere hour ago the bastard mockingly questioned his knowledge.

Was that… apology? 

No, it didn’t feel like that. For apology meant regretting and he still wasn’t sure if the man was capable of feeling guilt. Anger? Yes. Excitement at a challenge? Definitely. Regrets? Even if so, Shang Tsung did not notice that and he was usually good at exploiting such weakness in people around him. 

Maybe it was just cryomancer’s way to… well, Shang Tsung had no idea. It made him feel better though. So no, he was not mad anymore even if he probably should be at least annoyed.  

He knew though from on, whenever he would see the red-capped mushroom, he would always think about this book, the little note and one cryomancer that made him laugh despite himself. 

The little skull in the corner stared at him all-knowing. Thoughtlessly, he touched it with his finger, enjoying the cold, slippery feeling of paper. He liked skulls, always had. Maybe he should figure out how to reshape his magic blasts to resemble the skulls? Wouldn’t that be something unique, just his and only his?

Suddenly, the book was a thousand ways better than it was already. What else could Earthrealm offer him? What secrets and inspiration was there to seek and use for his gain? 

He grinned, all sharp teeths and gleam in eye. Maybe, if he played their little game well or bargained enough, Sub-Zero could bring him a similar quality atlas but for Earthrealmers’ anatomy? All he needed was the stunning, colorful illustrations and for sure he could figure out everything else on his own. He always wanted to study their enemy’s anatomy but sadly Liu Kang’s pets ran away and trashed his laboratory along the way.

“Are you again thinking about murdering Liu Kang’s Champions?” 

If there was one thing about Sub-Zero that annoyed Shang Tsung more than the man’s cold, rude way of speaking, it was the Lin Kuei habit of sneaking on him. It wasn’t annoying just because Sub-Zero caught him doing things that spoil his carefully cultivated image of a devious and powerful sorcerer - like smiling because of book he can’t even read or returning to fortress all wet and miserable when catched by heavy rain or his not best morning moments when disheveled and still sleepy he wanders through the corridors. No, the worst part was how easily the man walked the shadows, like the darkness was his to command. 

There was something terrible off about that, even if he couldn’t point down why. 

“Maybe” Shang Tsung answered with a bright smile plastered on his face. No reason in admitting to the man how correctly he read his thoughts. Small victory was still a victory and if he was not the winner, he did not like it at all. 

Sub-Zero’s left eyebrow rose up, but the man did not comment nor asked about the book in the sorcerer's hands. So their little correspondence about a deadly mushroom was a closed up matter and not worth dwelling on. For now. 

Since he rarely had a chance to see his maybe-yes-maybe-not ally these days, Shang Tsung looked him over from head to toe. The man had no visible new scars, nothing to indicate an injury or that he was in any fight at all - even if the sorcerer knew from others that Sub-Zero’s brothers, those pathetic idealists, looked out for him and hunted Lin Kuei like mad dogs. So far to no avail, what pleased him greatly. Cryomancer was playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse, and his foolish brothers still did not figure out who had an upper hand in that strife. 

What however didn’t please Shang Tsung, was the bag on the cryomancer’s back. Full of his books. He knew the man was borrowing his precious volumes from the first day Sub-Zero showed up in his new home, but to see him actually taking out the entire stack at once? That was something new.

The saddest thing about the books collected here was their amount. As much as Shang Tsung hated to admit it, for months he barely managed to look through the shelves in his laboratory and there were more rooms, bigger rooms, from the floor to the ceiling, from one wall to another filled with books and scrolls. He had no idea what Sub-Zero was carrying in his bag this time, and even less what the man appropriated already. There was no point in pretending otherwise, as both knew well there were too many books to keep a track on all of them. A truly bothersome problem that cryomancer exploited without a grain of regret. 

Like always, the bastard ignored his outraged face, then adjusted his bag and walked away without even saying a goodbye or fuck you. The nerve of this man knew no bounds. 

“If you have time to steal my precious books then you could at least bring me something nice to eat!”, he shouted after the man before Sub-Zero disappeared in the shadows enveloping the cold corridor. Not because it could change anything but to have at least the last word.

Out of the darkness flew something small. He catched it without thinking, all reflex and curiosity. It was an apple, red and fresh, definitely not plucked from a tree on the island. Cold to the touch but not cold enough to frostbite his fingers. 

On one side bitten.

He should be mad at Sub-Zero, and yet the laugh filled his lungs. Well, at least the bastard did not ignore him completely. 

It was indeed a great progress.

(In the deepest part of the soul, where bitterness lingered like venom, Damashi’s voice mocked him how weak he was, how needy to cling to cold, uncaring Sub-Zero. How stupid to think anyone could bother to deal with him out of sympathy and not to use him like the pitiful tool he was. How despite everything, Shang Tsung learned nothing.

The bitterness choked him whenever he read left by Lin Kuei Grandmaster notes, whenever the man warned him about danger awaiting beyond the island’s boundaries or complained about the mess, even now, when the beautiful, deeply red covered book weighed in his hands. It was hard to ignore Damashi’s voice when it sounded like his own. But a snake should not choke on its own venom, shouldn’t he?)

Author notes#2:

Like the last time, it is mainly my character study of Shang Tsung and I'm on purpose not writing him how I would normally write one from previous timelines. I enjoy to explore how Damashi and her betrayal had a great impact on him. He is the "in progress" version, not yet the savvy, brilliant sorcerer but trying hard to be seen like that. Bi-Han so far is there mainly for the books XD

I also like to imagine there is some connection between Edenian language and one of Chinese dialect, while English and its letters is totally something new for Shang Tsung. Just solely to avoid everyone speak the same language despite living in different realms. Lin Kuei were taught Outworld language(s) so they could do the dirty job better. Hopefully I did not bore you too much.

This part was about the mushroom note. Next one should be about the mess called Shang Tsung's laboratory :)

[gh0stgirl000]

Someone give me a fic of literally any Rory character with Patrick Veronas personality and reader with Kats personality and they have Patrick and Kats banter PLEASE I NEED IT

[myprongsfootera]

Prongsfoot Microfic: Mirror

Sirius allowed himself to be led into the abandoned classroom by James, who had all but dragged him through the castle until they reached it.

He’d found something that was called “The Mirror of Erised” which apparently showed your greatest desires. Sirius had wanted to wait for Remus and Peter to get back from their detention, but James hadn’t even been willing to wait that long. According to him, they could go back again then.

Sirius was nervous. 

James hadn’t given him much detail other than that the mirror would show his heart’s greatest desire. 

And Merlin knew that if the mirror showed what Sirius was worried that it would show, it was going to be so awkward for both of them. 

But James had seemed so excited that Sirius hadn’t had the heart to make excuses and leave. He never had the heart to do things that would hurt James. 

As they made their way into the room, James pointed the mirror out to Sirius.

“So it’s just there. Stand in front of it. I’ll stand behind you and see if I can see what you see too!”

Sirius nodded nervously. 

When he looked into the mirror, the first thing he saw was that James, just behind him and off to the side, was grinning broadly at him. 

And then, wonder of wonders, James’ reflection walked over to Sirius’ and grabbed him bodily and kissed him. Sirius just stared at it for a long moment in awe, before he remembered to be mortified. 

He turned back to James, shaking his head quickly. 

“I’m so sorry, Prongs, I should have told you, I know this is weird, but can you just pretend this didn’t happen-”

James cocked his head in confusion.

“What- what are you sorry about exactly?”

Sirius gestured to the mirror, where their reflections were tangled up in a kiss so passionate Sirius had to look away to preserve their imagined privacy.

“That,” he said, “I know I shouldn’t want you that way and I know this has to be so awkward for you. It wasn’t on purpose, it just sort of started happening and-”

James’ jaw dropped a little, and Sirius felt himself clam up and stop talking.

“Sirius,” James said gently, “Mate, I can’t see anything in the mirror. I just see your reflection. What are you seeing exactly?”

Sirius brought his hands up to cover his face for a long moment before he blew out a breath and looked back up. He gestured helplessly.

“You,” he sighed, pointing at James, “and me,” he finished, pointing to himself, “together.”

James grinned. “You know, I was just thinking that too.”

Sirius’ face crinkled up in confusion. “What?”

James nodded sagely. 

“Who’s better to kiss than your soulmate, right?”

Sirius choked out an embarrassingly wet laugh. 

“And of course it helps that you're the hottest guy at the school, too.”

Sirius ran a hand over his head. This couldn’t really be happening. 

“So yeah,” James finished. “You,” he said, pointing to Sirius, “and me,” he added, pointing to himself, “it makes too much sense not to do it.”

Sirius looked at him, really looked at him, and then felt a smile bloom across his face. 

“You and me, huh?”

“Yeah,” James said, grinning equally broadly, “soulmates already, weren’t we?”

Sirius nodded and took a step closer. 

“In every way.”

@prongsfoot-microfic - 6/19

[heycarrots]

Reading Between the Lines is Back!!!

Stitched With its Color by @etoilesombre

We’re live on Spotify and Apple Podcasts!

Etoile and I discuss their beautiful Madi and Flint story, set moments after they find out that Silver is still alive. They manage to unveil Madi in a fresh new perspective and I take Madi’s distinctive accent out for a spin!

As always, the GORGEOUS cover art is the work of the brilliant @magicbubblepipe and commission sponsored by Mary, aka VVitchqueen!