#he described the evidence and it was as horrifying as it sounded

[overheardschoolbus]

I swear someone took a bite out of my deodorant

[kalims]

sugar

flushed — when you fluster them and how they act.

do you want a 'kiss' — not an actual kiss, the chocolate.

falling (asleep) — you fall asleep on their shoulder.

w/ malleus draconia

commissioned by paru !

flushed — when you fluster them and how they act.

typically if it was anyone else, they'd have a really hard time to gauge out a reaction from malleus when the most they'll get is probably a barely evident crease, or raise in his brows.

in this case tis our very lovely mc who malleus is very much already on the ground from how fast he fell. you could do just about anything, give him a rock or something, and he’ll thank you eternally and keep it in a room above the most eccentric gifts he's ever gotten.

(god forbid if sebek ever enters, and sees some random rock on a pedestal meanwhile his gifts for the master is just.. there on some table like malleus didn't even think twice to leave it there then worship that rock!)

^ well thankfully, out of respect. sebek believes that someone like him simply is not privileged enough to enter the room of his esteemed master.

anything remotely affectionate from you would definitely send malleus to cloud nine for the whole day, he's practically emitting comical hearts every second you're together. they're trailing after him as he's following you around.

so you have a variety of choices! a heartfelt compliment, a hug, maybe even a kiss. whatever you choose will only feed on the overflowing glass that's called; 'malleus' love for mc'. trust me if you think he's like 67% in love with you, you're WRONG.

it's actually 101% and it's still increasing I swear 😭 

well the glass I was talking about is probably overflowing right now, and it's also probably going to start drowning everyone.

as in… everyone's just stuck to witness malleus' insanely endearing reactions to your shenanigans. should they be scared that malleus would probably do it in a heartbeat if you asked to take over the world??

yeah they should tbh.

in this case, I believe a close hug then a whisper in his ears would really make that arrow hit straight to his heart. you can't just whisper 'doritos' though! /j but you shall instead proclaim your love for him instead with a single 'I love you'.

it's funny to see his face completely freeze. you can practically hear his brain absolutely blowing up. there's a wobbly grin stretching across his face, the tip of his ears turn a shade of pink.

he looks… shy, but oddly pleased.

hellour congratulations malleus will not stop till you're both bound for life 💀 trust me he won't take anyone else if it isn't you anymore. he loves you THAT much.

malleus is not aware of the feeling blooming in his chest, it's foreign. he could even describe it as addictive. he's clueless really, but what he's sure of is that he wonders if you'd feel that too if he did the same to you.

oh well.. you've exposed him to such a euphoric feeling. it's only natural for him to return the favor. 

so honestly just expect him to be the rizzlord for the rest of your existence, he's rizzing you up every chance he can get. and the fact that most of it is just him not trying at all, and just being himself.

which is also funny cause when he does try to 'charm' you it ends up in fail.

like who let him bring you the 'rewards of his hunt' as a courting offering.

and when he tries to recite a letter he wrote for you, it's very endearing, and flattering but he's been talking for quite a long time now and you're concerned.

do you want a 'kiss' — not an actual kiss, the chocolate.

*malleus holding a big ass bowl* yes pls

^ but that's if he knows it's chocolate, and still wants the legit kiss. in a way that's the amount he'd want if it was the real deal.

not that he does know! cause malleus isn't exactly educated in the chocolate culture. as horrifying as it sounds, i doubt he snacks on chocolate in his free time.

I guess he didn't have much time to be a child :(.

he's tasted it before though! but knowing specific brands doesn't really cross his mind. for malleus chocolate is just chocolate. 

so he definitely doesn't know that there's a brand of chocolate called kisses.

so when you ask him if he wants a kiss he's like: yes. IMMEDIATELY. 

ok maybe not immediately but he gives you this certain look, and when he registers your silence at his face he realizes that you're being serious. 

malleus rn: well I mean ur offering so 

WHEN DID HE EVEN FINISH EATING A MINT CANDY.

jokes aside it's almost sad to think how he'll react when it's in fact, not a kiss.

when you pull out some kind of thing wrapped around in some kind of foil and place it inside malleus' palm he's just confused. where are his kisses?? why are you giving him this thing??

malleus spots the 'kisses' label on it and blanks.

oh.. so that's what you meant.

okay he's happy to receive anything from you but that's foul play!

but he really likes you so he won't comment on it 😞 you didn't even elaborate so it's partially his fault for jumping into conclusions.

no one can explain, not even you when there's a visible aura radiating off malleus. something gloomy, and he won't tell you even if you point out that you've noticed him constantly glancing at your face.

well your lips but you also don't know that.

falling (asleep) — you fall asleep on their shoulder.

would refuse to move at all.

first of all, he's honored that you trust him this much to lower your guard, and fall asleep on him. malleus is aware, sorta. he doesn't stop talking but instead slows down his words.

he doesn't want to wake you up, does he?

so he just settles on rambling in hopes that even in your dreams, his voice would reach you. you'd dream of him day, and night.

but when he's done malleus makes very little movement, hyper aware that you've fallen asleep on him. so when he finally assumes a position most comfortable for you, (plus one where he wouldn't crane his neck too much to peer at you) and he just stares.

he's done this plenty of times when you were awake so he doesn't know why he's doing it now. maybe it's because he sees you awake every time, and when you were, he could see the slightest bit of exhaustion present in your eyes.

this way he can be at peace knowing you are.

he recalls your certain features, he'd love to just gaze into your eyes right now and see himself in it but the fact that he can feel all your weight on him is better than anything he's ever felt before. 

cold, rainy days in nrc are just a blessing from grace.

but you now just discover that rain here is a lot stronger than your local pour back at home. to make everything worse, you had no idea it was gonna rain this hard, and if you did you wouldn't have taken the time to visit the city on a sunday.

now you're stuck waiting under a cover outside a shop. your patience honestly starting to run thin. from your legs sincerely, you're immensely thankful for the random bench under it cause you're sure they would have been quaking from the amount of time you spent waiting.

but you do like the weather, cold weather is rare to see when the sunny days reign over many.

you should have brought a jacket or something.

"child of man?"

you blink when malleus tilts his head at you, a thin smile playing upon his lips. his shoulders seem to ease up at the sight of you. your eyes fly above him, weirdly enough it's like there's some invisible force protecting malleus from the weather so he's completely dry.

albeit weakly, you still make an effort to give him a half hearted wave. 

of which he notes.

malleus makes his way over to you, and your beloved bench you had started acquainting yourself with. "may I?" he gestures beside you, and you take that as an initiative to move over.

he takes a seat next to you right after.

"how are you faring?" his eyes crinkle, he stares deeply into you. 

you chuckle. "well I'm stuck here for a while I guess. I already miss my bed,"

the man beside you raises his brow before lightly raising his shoulder, leaning towards you a little for emphasis but you're sure that's just another excuse to take up more of your space.

you get what he's implying in a second. "oh no, no," you shake your head. that would be… embarrassing. 

but your yawn betrays you, and malleus easily coaxes you into using his shoulder. with or without your will, you can't even remember what happened until you blearily open your eyes, and realize the rain has passed by.

when you wake up you feel like you've had the best sleep in your life. but you're sure you would have frozen to death by now.

your hands feel the fabric between your fingers, previously taken over your shoulders. ah.

… as well as a pair of eyes staining into your existence.

wc. 1.5k

[justblades]

QUICKIES WITH THEM !

♡ CHARACTERS : luca kaneshiro, sonny brisko + ren zotto x gender neutral! reader

♡ WARNINGS : SMUT, MDNI. exhibitionism, food play, oral sex, anal sex, public sex, size difference, not proofread.

LUCA KANESHIRO

it all started when the traffic flooded the blacktop highways causing a great headache for both you and luca. numerous beeping sounds, constant revving engines of the vehicles fill the air and you were beyond dismayed. this vacation was supposed to be an enjoyable one free of stress but the first step for it was already . . the complete opposite of the latter. his gloved right hand rubs your thighs in an attempt to soothe the annoyance searing in your mind while his left hand manages the black leather steering wheel.

he continues to keep on the lookout, whipping his head left and right to see if there were any signs of improvement of the situation already. the blond wears his black rimmed aviators as the sun rays' almost blind him from how sweltering hot the summer is— although it was already evident enough from the sweat staining luca's plain, onyx button down with patches of darker shades. you draw a long, blue sigh, irked from the events that keep on transpiring. when suddenly, you feel a thumb drawing viscules and irregular shapes on your clothed region, making you heave a deep breath and look at luca with a horrified expression.

luca pretends to not know why you're glaring daggers and just keeps on doing that. your inner thighs clench from the extreme sensation, the parching temperature making you feel dizzy as well. "luca . ." you murmur as your energy drops down, letting him do to you whatever he has in mind. "let's do something fun to pass the time."

before you knew it, you were straddling luca's lap as he continuously licks and sucks on your neck's sweet spot; all the while his cock was ramming in and out of your velvet walls. you were drained of patience and energy and in return you couldn't do anything but moan in esctasy while the male does all the work. it felt humilating to be doing it when you're surrounded with lots of people, but however, you couldn't care at all for they don't know any of your indentities. plus, this was a first ever public sex you had with luca, you can't stop, not when you're fully lapping his dick up by clamping around his size, seizing this bizarre yet contenting moment. you couldn't stop even when you've been sensing multiple pairs of eyes set on the both of your figures, basking in pleasure in the middle of a heavy traffic. "luca, luca, please faster."

SONNY BRISKO

barging into sonny's office with no forewarnings, you skipped your way inside and welcomed the blond with a tight hug plus a homemade dessert on your hand. "sonny our oh so hardworking vsf officer! here, i baked something for you!" you exclaim as you see sonny's lazulline eyes twinkle with wonder and excitement at the same time. you unwrap the ribbon keeping the container closed and a wonderful sight welcomes his vision.

it was a dark forest cake with his name written on top with the use of neon yellow frostings— solely catered for his preferences and colors he adore. the male dips his finger on the whipped cream which caught you by surprise and proceeded to get a quick taste. "hmmm." he hums, pondering what are the perfect words to describe your masterpiece. sonny then places the cake atop his desk table and pulls you close to his chest, his heart pulsates loud and fast from the thin white button down he was wearing.

you were in a confused state as you couldn't budge but melt from his sweet gestures, but then it all takes a sudden turn when his hands roam down your lower region and his tall nose brushing along the sensitive spot of your ears. "eat first before this." you mumble weakly but sonny's breaths deepens in exchange, getting a proper whiff of your signature scent. "i have my food right here." the flaxen haired responds as he forcibly spreads your legs open, gently stroking your sex with his slender, calloused hands.

it felt absurd to be bent over sonny's office table while loud moans continue to slip out of your mouth. he's licking the neon colored frostings smeared on your naked back as he thrusts his hard dick into your loosening hole, eyes darted on your body— making sure he cleans your skin off the whipped creams. you yelp whenever his tongue flicks lower and lower as well as when he pushes himself deeper and deeper, you swear to heavens it's not like sonny to do this. but you highkey hope this happens more often.

REN ZOTTO

teaching him all about human anatomy, you give him permission to see your body and experiment with you until he finally grasps the concept of each part. it was a ludicrous proposal you asked ren out of the blue— the shocking part of it was he accepted and now you're stuck in this predicament. his sharp rings trace lines on your skin until your lower region, his eyes widening upon examining each detail. you couldn't do anything but to cover your eyes in embarrassment, but when ren touches your genitalia, it almost makes you cream from the feeling.

"what? don't tell me to stop now, something is telling me we're just getting on to the exciting part." his smooth voice chimes into your ears like a big tease, and ren does it again. this time, his pointy, peculiar tongue glides all over your hole's surface. "ren!" you call out to him, wanting to be spared some piece of mercy on your body but he refuses to do so. he uses his hand along with his mouth to lap your sex up endlessly, continuously doing strokes and circling motions around the part.

for a mere mortal, it felt surreal to have your region sucked on by an alien who happened to enjoy too much of your abashed reactions from his skillful movements. "are you sure you're not one of us? you can't be too good at this!" you whine as you clasp your hands on his smooth ebony strands, while ren only beams you a toothy grin in return.

"is there anything you can do to satisfy me too?" he shoots the question and as if another soul took over you, you spread your legs open to let him see all of your body. he hums in approval and licks his lips in anticipation— he finally buries his enormous cock inside your tight walls, the warmth your body exudes is one that comforts the alien in the most sexual way as possible. his pace picks up the more he thrusts into you, to the point you could no longer keep up with his tempo and your pelvis just giving out until the very last pound. "cheeky bastard of an alien are you?" he snickers, sunset and teal irises squinting into two crescent moons. "you just knew?"

my masterlist !

[supernovaae]

One in Six (Toland x G/N! Reader)

-.'✰'.- [a/n]: finally a full drabble/oneshot. also content for my heinous diabolical king toland (he's coming home soon)

-.'✰'.- Summary: toland decides he wants to play russian roulette while the two of you make out in an empty meeting room.

-.'✰'.- Content Warnings; guns/gun usage (the gun is pointed at both of you/the trigger is pulled, but bullets are not fired), etc.

-.'✰'.- Additional Information: Minors DNI (just to be safe), gets a little suggestive at the end, autassassinophilia and erotophonophilia (i guess), russian roulette (kinda), i know absolutely nothing about describing revolvers, not proofread, grammatical errors, possibly ooc, reader is implied to be an Esper (their abilities are not used or specified).

You're on top of him, legs straddling his lap as your hands grab the lapels of his shirt, pulling him closer. His coat laid abandoned on the floor, having been carelessly thrown away a little while ago. One of his hands gently grasped your waist, the other was splayed on the space between your shoulder blades as he quickly and greedily stole kiss after kiss from your lips. Earlier, while you were collecting Miramon in the field, he'd sent you a message, saying he needed you to do something important for him. You weren't exactly busy – the only assignments you had to complete were some paperwork and your Miramon collection quota, which could finished any time within the week, so you obliged.

You can imagine your chagrin when he ushered you back inside the facility and led you down the halls, all while grinning and telling you what he really wanted. At that moment, you were completely prepared to chide him for lying to you and go back to work just to spite him, but somehow, you found yourself swayed by his silver tongue and honeyed words.

Now, you're both alone together in an empty conference room with the doors locked and blinds shut while you two make out on the lone chair at the end of the table.

His fingernails lightly graze your skin, the hand on your waist moving to your back, keeping you near as he leans closer, tipping your body slightly backward.

He pushes his lips onto yours once more, this time in a deeper, more passionate fashion, to which you wholeheartedly return the sentiment, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kiss him back in earnest.

Finally, you both pull away, and Toland's hands draw you even closer to his body as his lips gingerly press against the corner of your mouth before progressively traveling further and further down. One of his hands leaves your back as his lips land over and over again, gingerly peppering you with kisses on your cheek, across your jaw, on the shell of your ear, and down your neck, his tongue periodically swirling and flicking against the skin.

After pushing his lips to your neck once more, Toland punctuates the action with a, “Bang.” mumbled against your skin. A tinny ‘click’ resonates through the air before he plants another heady kiss to your lips.

Your eyelids flutter open, and you nearly choke on your own spit once you see Toland’s gleaming, silver revolver clutched in his hands, barrel held up to the side of his head. You go rigid, staring unblinkingly at the barrel of the gun. Was that clicking noise the sound of him pulling the trigger a few seconds ago?

Why did he... ? A second passes before Toland notices you've become unresponsive to his affectionate gestures and pulls away, his eyes analyzing your petrified expression. He traces your line of sight and follows it to the firearm in his hand, finally getting the hint.

"Ohhhh." He hums, smile returning. The gun lowers from his head as he turns back to you.

"This is nothing. We're just having a little fun," he lilts, heedlessly waving the firearm in small circles while you look on, horrified. He flicks the cylinder and watches it spin, acting completely indifferent to your very evident alarm. "We'll be fine."

It slows and settles into place with a - clack - . There's a glint in his eye, which compliments the crescent moon grin that's growing on his face, splitting his smile in half. "Trust me."

You would've scoffed if you weren't so scared. Trust him? That statement amounted to nothing but a bad joke, given his track record.

Your voice shakes as you lean back. "Is that loaded?" Instead of addressing your concerns in any rational or meaningful way, he gleefully smiles ear to ear. That expression gives it all away. You look on in disbelief. "You can't be serious. Are you crazy?"

He doesn't answer, ignoring your apprehension once again. This time though, he raises his revolver and nudges it's barrel against your temple, not quite pointing it at you. Yet. Your breath stills once you feel the cold metal touch your skin and you freeze in place once again. Toland leans closer to you as his free hand reaches up and cups the back of your head, his fingers splayed over your hair. "What?" An amused chuckle spilled from his mouth. "Are you scared?” He whispers against your lips, his breath warm. “I-” You attempt to verbalize your unease, but he doesn’t give you a chance, pushing your head forward and pressing your lips to his. Gossamer white smoke, a by-product of his Divine Power, gently wafted around the two of you, curling around both your forms as the two of you kissed once more. His tongue danced with yours in a kiss much more forceful and heavy than the ones before, like he was intentionally trying to silence your complaints. After a moment, his hand leaves your hair and moves down your body, tracing your skin with the tips of his fingers as the hand holding the gun moves slightly out of view. The kiss does it's job and distracts you, somewhat making you loosen back up a bit while his hand inches down your back before finally settling near your midriff, where his arm then curls around.

You nearly forgot all about the revolver, but then he pulled the hammer back, the little - click! - immediately breaking your immersion, making you jolt and look over at the gun that was now pointed directly at you. Finally, Toland pulled away from you, just for a moment, letting you breathe. The barrel barely touches your hair before he attempts to dive in again.

“Wait, wait.” You place your hands on his chest, trying to keep him at bay, just for a second or two. In response, he simply quirks an eyebrow. "Can you put that away first?" You gesture at the gun. "Please?" He clicks his tongue before exaggeratedly sighing. "Come on." His free arm comes away from its position your back in favor of moving so his hand can join the two of yours. "It'll be fine."

He nudges your hands out from between the two of you. "Don’t worry." A grin starts to form on his face again, his amusement reflecting greatly in his tone. His hand doesn't return to it's initial position. Instead, it inches upwards, across your chest, tracing your clavicle, grazing your shoulders, and brushing your arm... Cold, hard metal prods the side of your head. His fingers run downward now, moving down your side, your naval, your waist...

“Put a little faith in me,” he croons.

His hand finally comes to rest on your hip, fingers just barely tracing your waistband.

“You know I’d never let anything happen to you.”

[✰-notes-✰]: please lmk if there are any awkward mistakes or important content warnings that I missed!

[fallenclan]

Violetkit would always remember the faraway, almost whimisical manner in which Lavendertail used to describe willow trees. Her especial favorite was the Howling Willow, the largest and most ancient willow in ShallowClan's territory. Even as Lavendertail grew scrawny and sick with hunger, she would whisper, "If you sit up high in the Howling Willow's branches, you can hear the voices of StarClan cats."

Now Violetkit sat patiently, tiny claws curled into the ancient tree's bark as she waited upon one its highest branches. Waited, patiently, to hear Lavendertail's voice. I'm here, mother. Where are you?

"Violetkit? Violetkit, where are you?" A shrill, panicked voice brought Violetkit lurching back to reality. Nighthawk. The shadowy warrior was supposed to be watching Mothkit and Violetkit, but Mothkit had created a distraction which had allowed Violetkit to slip away undetected.

Violetkit sighed, irritated. I'm not going back to camp until my mother speaks to me.

"I found her!" Yarrowstem's voice sliced through the air like a hawk's talons. Violetkit bristled, dread worming its way into her belly. Inching along her branch, Violetkit forced her head between the willow's wispy tendrils, peering down below. She was met with the furious glares of Nighthawk and Yarrowstem. There was a third set of eyes, too: Floodstar.

Floodstar's gaze held no anger, however. His demeanor was surprisingly calm, a tranquil pond compared to the blazing fury of the warriors standing beside him. "Come down, Violetkit."

"No!" Violetkit retorted, causing Nighthawk and Yarrowstem to swap horrified glances.

"She's just a stupid kit-" Yarrowstem began hurriedly, but Floodstar lifted his tail, silencing her. With a shocking amount of strength, ShallowClan's leader launched himself up the willow tree, springing from branch to branch with the ease of a veteran squirrel.

When the tom finally landed beside Violetkit's perch, the she-kit took a few hesitant steps backward. Floodstar's peculiar, ice-blue eyes were locked on her. "It is impressive that you managed to trek so far, and then climb this great tree, while only being a little thing yourself."

"I'm not little. I'm three moons old." Violetkit lifted her chin, heart beating frantically like a caged bird.

"That you are."

"Are you mad at me?"

"Nighthawk is the cat I'm angry with. She had one job, and she failed spectacularly. You, on the other paw. . . no." Floodstar was watching Violetkit with careful consideration, as if turning around some equation in his head. "You will still need to be punished, of course. However, you have proven yourself to be a rather versatile young cat."

"Thanks." Violetkit was pretty sure 'versatile' was a compliment. At this rate, it was fairly evident that Lavendertail had nothing to say to Violetkit. Maybe she doesn't love me anymore. "I'm ready to come down now."

"Very well."

...

Violetpaw's claws sang through the air, slicing across Rabbitface's muzzle so fast the tom barely had time to react. The warrior made a clumsy attempt to swipe at Violetpaw, but the apprentice rolled out of the way, springing to her paws and ducking around Rabbitface's side. Rabbitface whirled to face her, but she was ready, moving with him and snapping her jaws shut on his spine, back paws kicking Rabbitface's legs out beneath him.

"That's enough." At the sound of Floodstar's voice, Violetpaw immediately released her grip on Rabbitface, stepping off of the tom. Shakily, the tom stood, running a paw over his bleeding muzzle. The fur along his back was also torn, the spot where Violetpaw had bit him now bleeding profusely.

"Are you okay?" Mothpaw trotted forward, craning their neck to inspect their mentor's wounds.

"I'm sorry, Rabbitface. I didn't mean-" Violetpaw had barely spoken when Floodstar interrupted her in a harsh snarl.

"Don't apologize. Rabbitface is a grown warrior; he should have easily been able to counter those attacks." Floodstar scoffed, eyeing his son coldly. "Regardless, you performed excellently." Violetpaw felt her heart swell with pride at Floodstar's praise.

Mothpaw's approval was softer, their gaze gleaming with admiration. "I would like to train with Violetpaw next, if that's okay."

"No," Floodstar rumbled. "We're done battle training for the day. Rabbitface needs to go see Lakelily." Secretly, Violetpaw was relieved at Floodstar's decision. She wasn't sure if she would ever be able to injure Mothpaw in a fight.

It was different with Rabbitface. He was just a clanmate, not a friend. Floodstar's words rang clear in her head: Sometimes, you must face clanmates with claws.

...

"How dare you." Floodstar's furious hiss rang across the clearing. Rabbitface stood, ears pinned in defiance, while Floodstar continued. "Rogues, loners, kittypets. . . they are less than us. They are vermin that taint any clan they manage to worm their way into. And yet you would share prey with a loner, knowing that there isn't enough prey to go around, knowing that ShallowClan needs it more--"

"She was starving!" Rabbitface yowled. "It can come from my share."

"Oh, it certainly will," Floodstar sneered. "You won't be eating anything off the freshkill pile for three days." Rabbitface looked about to protest, but Floodstar continued mercilessly, "And you will need a punishment." The tom's gaze swept the clan, eventually coming to rest upon a certain brown tabby. "Violetfang, what is the proper punishment for a code-breaker?"

Violetfang felt her spine go rigid. Every pair of eyes seemed to land upon her. "Exile, but as this is Rabbitface's first offense. . . he should receive a punishment befitting of the crime." Violetfang paused. "He should have to hunt down the rogue and make her give the prey back."

"And if she refuses to do so?" Floodstar drawled. When Violetfang didn't answer, Floodstar returned his glare to Rabbitface. The unspoken answer burrowed its way into every cat's heart.

Then he must kill the rogue.

...

"I just--I thought--" Owlpaw stammered, eyes wide as saucers.

"You thought what?" Violetfang spat. "That you would walk into ShallowClan's camp and tell us how to solve our problems? Typical FallenClan arrogance."

"Enough." Mudsplash stepped in front of her apprentice, lips peeling back in the beginning of a snarl.

Violetfang could feel rage brewing in her chest, a furious beast scratching at the walls of its enclosure. "If FallenClan is so well off that it can waste cats as mediators, then they should be willing to give ShallowClan a portion of their territory."

"FallenClan territory is non-negotiable," Mudsplash replied, only incensing Violetfang further.

"Violetfang is right!" Ravenspot hissed. "We should claw these so called mediators' ears off!"

"Perhaps then FallenClan cats will stop thinking themselves so superior to ShallowClan," Ravenspot's brother, Lichenstep, sniffed, standing with his pelt pressed against his sister's.

"No FallenClan cat thinks themself 'superior' to ShallowClan," Mudsplash argued.

"Then why are you here?" Dustfeather growled.

"To help you!"

"Yeah, right," Dustfeather scoffed. "FallenClan just wants to know our secrets so they can chase us out."

"This is absurd," Mudsplash snorted. "Owlpaw and I are going home." Floodstar simply nodded, watching the FallenClan cats impassively. He had barely said a word for the entire duration of the mediators' visit.

As Mudsplash and Owlpaw turned to leave, Violetfang felt a familiar pelt brush against her own. "Why do you think Floodstar allowed this little charade?" Mothwhisker's silky voice tickled Violetfang's ear. She could feel some of her fury ebb at the presence of her friend.

"I don't know."

"Perhaps he wanted to see how you would handle things," Mothwhisker murmured, voice low. "Do you see the way our clanmates look at you?"

"What do you mean?" Violetfang tensed. Mothwhisker brushed their tail against Violetfang's shoulder, an attempt at soothing her that only caused her heart to flutter uncertainly.

"Floodstar is old. He wants to make sure you will be a good sucessor. The clan certainly thinks so." Mothwhisker's honey-gold eyes gleamed with certainty. "I think so."

"Thank you," Violetfang whispered, not quite sure what else to say.

...

"You just couldn't wait for him to die, could you?" Lakelily hissed scornfully.

"Excuse you?" Violetfang was fighting to keep the waver from her voice. Floodstar couldn't actually be dead, he couldn't. . . I can't do this without him.

"Don't play the fool," Lakelily snapped. "Floodstar was poisoned. As his deputy, you certainly were aware he was on his last life."

"He never told me." Violetfang's tail was lashing now. Poisoned?

"I don't believe you."

"Wait," Thistlepaw mewed. Violetfang whipped around, gazing sharply at the young she-cat. She had only just been made a medicine cat apprentice a few moons ago.

"Thistlepaw?" Lakelily frowned.

"I-I told Rabbitface." Frosty talons hooked around Violetfang's heart. "He's Floodstar's son so I thought--well I thought he should know. I mean, he asked and. . ." Thistlepaw trailed off.

"I see." Violetfang had grown very still.

...

Violetfang hooked her claws into Rabbitface's shoulders, tearing bloody trails across his flesh before shoving him against the ground. "You foxheart," Violetfang hissed.

ShallowClan's camp had grown eerily quiet except for Violetfang and Rabbitface, facing off in the camp's center. "Everything I did, I did for ShallowClan," Rabbitface wheezed, a pleading edge to his voice. "Floodstar was a cruel and-"

CRACK. Violetfang swung her paw into the side of Rabbitface's head, causing him to wail in pain. "Your own father." Violetfang refused to cry. She wouldn't. She could feel the intensity of her clanmate's gazes upon her. She must show them strength. She must prove herself worthy of Floodstar's legacy.

"Y-you can be better," Rabbitface stumbled to his paws, swaying slightly. "You aren't a bad cat, Violetfang, I know th-that."

Violetfang loomed over Rabbitface. What should you do if the rogue refuses to return the prey? Violetfang's paw hovered over Rabbitface's throat. You kill the rogue.

"Stop!" Thistlepaw darted into the clearing, vision blurring with tears. "Please, Violetfang. Don't kill him. Exile him instead."

Violetfang flicked the blood from her claws, expression turning to stone. "Exile. That is what we do to traitors, isn't it?" She stepped back. "Rabbitface, you are hereby exiled from ShallowClan. Any cat who finds you on our territory after sundown has explicit orders to kill you." Violetfang made sure to let her voice sound all throughout the clearing. She wanted every cat to hear.

Rabbitface's gaze was darting from cat to cat, as if hoping someone would step forward in his defense. No cat moved.

"Leave, and be lucky to keep your life," Violetfang growled. Shaking, Rabbitface took a few lurching steps towards the camp's entrance. . . and then he bolted, disappearing into the marshes. "Ravenspot, Honeywater. Trail him. Make sure he leaves," Violetfang ordered.

As she turned to stalk off to her nest, Violetfang briefly caught Boulderpaw's gaze, finding something unexpected: fear. She didn't know if he was afraid of Rabbitface, or afraid of her.

She didn't know which one she wished to be true.

...

Violetstar's first act as leader had been to declare war on FallenClan. FallenClan had a larger territory, more cats, more prey. If ShallowClan claimed even a portion of FallenClan's land, they wouldn't need to ration prey anymore.

Now, Violetstar was ending the war with less than nothing to show for it. Fernshadow's leg was permanently disfigured. Boulderpaw had run away to join FallenClan, betraying ShallowClan. Poppyfrost and Nighthawk had been killed by rogues. Dustfeather had bled to death after a particularly vicious fight with FallenClan.

"I thought I'd find you here," Mothwhisker's voice crept up the willow tree's branches.

Violetstar didn't reply until Mothwhisker landed upon the branch beside her. "It was my mother's favorite spot."

"I know."

"I've failed ShallowClan."

"Have you?" Mothwhisker tilted their head, causing Violetstar to scowl.

"We're worse off than before. Cats are constantly breaking into fights. No one can agree on anything. We're starving. Dustfeather, your father, is dead. You should resent me."

"FallenClan killed Dustfeather," Mothwhisker replied, tone so trivial they could be talking about the weather.

"I don't know what to do. This isn't a problem I can solve with my claws. I need this to be a problem I can solve with my claws."

"You'll figure something out," Mothwhisker mewed breezily, resting their chin on Violetstar's shoulder. "You always do."

...

"Have you got bees in your brain? We don't need more mouths to feed!" Fernshadow yowled. His mate, Honeywater, stood beside him, their kits tumbling around near their paws.

"Be silent!" Violetstar hissed icily. A sliver of panic crossed Fernshadow's gaze, as if fearing Violetstar would attack him. His fear wasn't entirely unfounded.

Violetstar took a deep breath, trying to remember the breathing exercises she had been working on with Branchlight. "With more cats in our clan, we can be taught more skills. Rogues and loners already trespass and hunt on our land. We simply don't have enough cats to patrol our borders and keep them out."

Violetstar could see several of her clanmates swap uneasy glances. "If we let them join instead, we won't be losing any prey."

"I've seen loners hunt for fish before," Thistleheart piped up. "We could learn how to hunt fish, too, if there was a cat to teach us!"

"Floodstar said rogues are vermin," Applepatch mewed uncertainly. "He said they're a blight to the clans they join."

"Floodstar was wrong." The words felt so foreign in Violetstar's mouth, she felt as though her pelt was crawling with spiders.

Yarrowstem stomped forward, tail bushed out. "How dare you insult Floodstar's memory with this--this herersy!"

"Floodstar got us into this mess," Ravenspot snarled, whirling on her mother. Yarrowstem's eyes widened, as if completely and utterly shocked to be challenged by her beloved daughter. "If Violetstar says we should let in outsiders, then letting in outsiders is what we'll do." Lichenstep nodded in agreement.

"I suppose this could work," Lizardfang added.

"This won't immediately solve our problems," Violetstar rose her voice.

"But it's a start." Violetstar felt a jolt of shock upon hearing Lakelily speak. The ancient tom was watching her thoughtfully.

"Indeed." Violetstar swallowed. "If we hope to save our clan, we need to do it together."

"Together," Mothwhisker's soft voice rang out in reply.

"Together!" Several more warriors cried, until the word was echoing about the camp.

Together! Together! Together!

Perhaps this unity would last.

-🐉 (a shallowclan fic! a lot of these cats/concepts came from the discord. i tried to encorporate everyone's ideas about these characters together--hopefully i did a good job! i did a collection of moments before and after the war, but none during as i felt those had been covered quite a bit already

anyway. i will be starting a silverapple fic next, then a blizzardcrow fic. so there are those to look forward to if you enjoy fallenfics--would this be considered a shallowfic? lmao

i've made another request to ao3 for an account since it's been a month, so hopefully i can EVENTUALLY start posting my fics there, esp since some of them are quite long and i have yet to find any way to hide them behind a cut---pretty sure this isn't possible but please correct me if i'm wrong and i'll start doing so promptly

also when i saw russetflare having a slight romantic like towards cinderstone i started giggling and kicking my feet,, russetcinder ftw

lastly---this is dedicated to the discord & everyone who obssessed over shallowclan with me. seriously though, if you're a fan of discord considering joining the fallenclan discord.....................shameless promotion moment)

DRAGON THIS IS SO FUCKING GOOD!!!!!!!! your writing is fucking spectacular as always,,,, i love the new pov of Violetstar more so being manipulated than being outright cruel,,, so interesting to explore. and the little tidbit with owlpaw and mudsplash--AUGH.

[jaimebluesq]

not exactly a fic request just kind of a creepy imagine-this if you wanna keep it in your pocket.

there's a video game where one of the villains is SO obsessed with your character that while infiltrating his palace, you come across a torture chamber where all the corpses are under an illusion that makes them look like your character, each one killed a different way, and with a chair and plate of delicacies for someone to watch.

imagine how much it would fuck with meng yao's head when wen ruohan leads him to the fire palace and the first torture room they enter is full of mingjues and huaisangs.

Ooooooooooooooh. I'm all for Nie & Wen obsessions with one another, and I can see this as a tangent from WRH's obsession/hatred of Daddy Nie, and the things he targets the most in the fake NMJ & NHS are things they share with their father, etc etc. And poor Meng Yao, coming to this and seeing it, having gotten to know both Nie bros in person, and most of him is absolutely horrified, but a perverse little part of him is tantalized because he's also developed a mild obsession with the Nie (MY: "I hope this doesn't awaken anything in me"), and though he would never actually wish harm upon them, the torture room gives him the perfect outlet for some of his angers/frustrations - and also those dirty little sexual fantasies we would never admit to anyone else but harbour deep inside ourselves.

*Ahem*.

But reading this, my brain then went to the next place it would go, which is... what if it isn't WRH that has that torture room. What if, after NMJ's death, JGY is making his way through the Unclean Realm after having helped NHS with something he said he didn't know how to do, and he takes a hallway he rarely took, and through some accident finds a hidden door and falls through (very convoluted, just humour me). And he comes upon the kind of torture room you described, and every single corpse has been glamoured to look like JGY. He sees his own dead face staring up at him, blood spattered on surfaces everywhere, some of it used to write "Brother-murderer" and "I hope Da-ge watches you rot for what you did", and there is NO hiding the sheer amount of rage exhibited in this room. JGY looks at it and remembers how mere minutes ago, NHS was sniffling and begging for his help, and how NHS has NEVER shown signs of such anger or signs that he even suspected that JGY had killed NMJ.

And then, just as JGY is about to turn and run, the door slams shut.

~~~

"This isn't how it was supposed to go," Nie Huaisang says, his voice light but his face the darkest Jin Guangyao had ever seen it. "I haven't gathered enough evidence yet to turn the world against you. I was supposed to destroy EVERYTHING YOU EVER HELD DEAR!"

Jin Guangyao takes a nervous step back, his hand reaching for the handle of his sword at his waist.

"And I still haven't found all the parts of my brother's body yet. I needed to find them, so he could watch you pay for what you did."

"I don't know what you think I did," Jin Guangyao tries desperately, "but A-Sang-"

Nie Huaisang pulls a talisman from his robes and activates it. There is a clanking and rustling sound before four chains slither to Jin Guangyao and wrap around his arms and legs, pulling him backward against a damp and foul-smelling stone wall.

"Don't A-Sang me," Nie Huaisang growls, sounding almost exactly like his brother. "You could have had more years to enjoy before I destroyed you, but no, you had to find this room."

"You can still let me go! I won't tell a soul, and we can forget any of this happened." Jin Guangyao pulled at the chains, even tried to gather his qi to break them, but there was a power to them that was beyond his comprehension. How had weak and pathetically cultivated Nie Huaisang managed such a feat?

But then, had Jin Guangyao ever known the real Nie Huaisang?

"I can't do that, San-ge." Nie Huaisang stalked forward with measured steps, his eyes never leaving Jin Guangyao's face. "I can no more let you go than you can bring me my brother back."

Knowing he could not get out of this, Jin Guangyao did the only thing he could do - gathered his dignity around him like a cloak, and hope that Nie Huaisang made a mistake he could take advantage of. "So what are you going to do... kill me?"

The corner of Nie Huaisang's lips curled up. There was movement behind him, and Jin Guangyao realized that there was something approaching him, something that gleamed in the nearby candle-light.

Baxia.

"Oh no, San-ge." Nie Huaisang lifted up his right hand, and the huge saber easily slid into his waiting palm. "Death is far too good for you. But don't worry, I've been practising, and you'd be surprised just how much pain a person can suffer without dying."

Jin Guangyao swallowed hard.

"And," Nie Huaisang added with a sneer, "Baxia is hungry."

[fandomwrightingontheside]

Quan Chi x Reader part 2 electric boogaloo

:readmore:

When you awake to your own bed, it takes you a moment to realise that you were alone, you hadn't even realized you had fallen asleep. Quan Chi wasn't there, sitting with you or holding you like you had thought. Quan Chi must have had somewhere better to be and left so as to not disturb your rest. You guess it had been hours but who would tell time without a clock near you? You hear rapid knocking on your door followed by muffled voices, as your eyes fight open, forcing sleep from them as you roll from your position and begin to shuffle to the entrance. As soon as the wood swung ajar and you opened an eye a fraction a sound came from the floor, "Where have you been! I've been worried sick little mage!" Fujin just about crushed you in a tight hug his voice high and shrill in a yell, he sounds relieved and desperate, and you have never seen him this tense.

"Wha?" Is the most intelligent sound you manage to make in the early awakening.

"It's past dinner, where have you been all day?!" The loud concerned god snapped loudly, holding you, not in a very comfortable position at all.

"Took a long nap," you yawn as Fujin checks you for a fever like a worried hen.

"A day?" he blinks and narrows his eyes as you wiggle and try to remove yourself from his grip.

"I was tired and stressed from the Quan Chi situation," you stretch and look down noticing he still hadn't let go. You pat his arm gently and Fujin looks at you sympathetically, loosening the grip but not releasing you fully.

"Understandable, still no one's seen him today and it's not good to just drop out and not tell anyone." His parental tone is evident to your half-awake brain.

"I know I'm sorry Dad," you joke lightly trying to reassure him you are alright, even with his squinting eyes scanning you like he didn't believe your lies. As they flick into your room not missing that it's empty of all the gift boxes Quan Chi had left. You smile at him.

"See? Everything is fine," the winds swirl and a large gust blows the door ajar showing an empty bed, Fujin glares suspiciously.

"Where are all the gifts from him, (y/n)," Fujin's voice sounded horrified that the gifts were just gone. You know you can't lie to him, not easily. The man was like a father to you he knew everything about you.

"Why don't we sit down and talk." You say with a sigh. Fujin stares for a minute, before walking into your room and sitting on your unmade bed. You sit next to him and sigh before you tell him everything, watching how his face grows angry and horrified in some moments. By the end of explaining everything to him, he leaned forward his face in his hands. The wind picked up and you knew what was coming, Fujin stood and turned to you, the breeze raging and swirling in his fury as he did.

"Did he ever give you consent before taking liberties, did he ever force himself onto you," Fujin asked quickly his eyes frantic, terrified his little baby was being manipulated or used somehow.

"No, no if anything I have to initiate affection, and he gives me the option to not respond he respects my wishes every time...well as far as I've seen." Fujin's tension lessens some as you describe the odd and complicated relationship between you, knowing he was letting his fear cloud his judgment and for that, he was ashamed. But you both know he will always have doubt and be ready to fight tooth and nail to protect you from Quan Chi. He just doesn't understand, no he refused to accept how happy the sorcerer had made you, or that you were falling for Quan Chi. It makes him want to scream, rip apart the sorcerer piece by piece and banish him from the realms. That would have made him a happy and protective god, but you had your own wishes, you are a free person to choose for yourself, even if he hates your decision he will support you to the best he can.

"So the relationship is entirely consensual, despite how bad and sinful it is for him to court you?" He questions with a shaky breath, Fujin already knew the answer, he could tell. Your eyes sparkle in a way he's never seen before.

"...Yes, it is," you smile lovingly when you talk about him, and Fujin can't stand it he wants so badly to drag you away to a safer environment, and you seem so genuinely smitten by him despite it being wrong. It was the eyes of someone who felt more for Quan Chi than simple attraction, or like, lust or adoration. The deep longing and bond were all there, the love was there too and that terrifies him. You wouldn't give into an illusion of affection, a quick infatuation of an evil being like him, he was going to have to accept it sooner or later. Fujin needed time to process what his adoptive child had just told him. You place your hand on his shoulder offering him comfort,

"I know this is already a lot to take in but, would you not tell Raiden about this?" Your question comes out cautiously. Both of you knew how enraged Raiden would be at this. How likely he would act rashly only to regret it in the end.

"Please, he's such a hot head, I'm not worried about Quan Chi I'm worried Raiden will do something." You admit sadly Fujin nodding along with a look of understanding.

"Yes, I know little mage," he assured, patting your hair with a grin.

"You swear to keep the secret to yourself for now, right?" The earnest, trusting look in your eyes burns his heart, as he agrees quietly. He wishes he could save you from yourself and the horrible, evil, fiend, that was courting you.

"I don't know what you see in him," Fujin spoke dryly, the atmosphere relaxed at the joking nature that was evident as Fujin rolled his eyes.

"Not the point and not the topic," you bark with a chuckle, glad you both have a strong relationship of respect.

Fujin looks around your room seeing how sneakily you had hidden many of the gifts Quan Chi had given you and chuckles a bit, despite everything else the thought of Quan Chi, the once cold ruthless servant, had changed for a mere mortal was comical. A quiet moment is shared between you as he watches you start to organize some of the small pieces, the affection for your silly actions not hidden. It was so odd to have such a proud sorcerer, who was once so fearsome, falling for a mere human.

"How will you survive if you do decide to enter into a serious commitment together? His lifespan will likely outlast you if you don't die of old age." Fujin knew it was a harsh fact, but a conversation needed to be had. Quan Chi was hundreds if not thousands of years old and could likely live till the end of days just to spite Raiden and the Elder Gods.

"I haven't thought that far ahead, it's far too early to think about my mortality and him." You were getting flustered as you began to pile and organize the numerous trinkets in front of you.

"You're too good for him." Fujin sighs as he kneels and picks up a tiny wooden carving in his hand.

"I know." You say in a small whisper.

"Raiden would have a stroke hearing this. Would send him into a righteous frenzy I'd have to worry about the outcome of a battle between them." He sighed knowing the risk the secrets being held had, that eventually you'd have to break the truth and live the consequences.

"They would both survive just to spite one another for years, I just know it." you chuckle, smiling nervously at the idea.

"You wouldn't need to worry about that," Fujin informed you plainly.

"Both of you need the drama. Especially, now that everything is settled. You and I both know you love juicy drama and gossip as long as I've known you," you chuckle. Fujin wasn't one to argue with facts. He would agree Raiden and Quan Chi always fought just because. It's nice that you feel you can come talk to him. But he can't get over how in the wrong this is. His mouth went dry the more he tried to speak, the words were trapped, and not what they should be. There was nothing that could be said that hadn't been said now or in the past. So instead he embraced you in a hug, he doesn't know if what is going on between you two will last, but he's not going to stop trying to remind you how loved you were.

"Whatever it is that you are going through right now. No matter who you are choosing to love or spend time with, no matter the gender. You have my support, so long as no one harms you. So, I will keep my lips sealed. I am proud of your growth and the courage it took you to express yourself. And don't worry about Raiden, I'll do everything I can to not let him know." Fujin sounded genuinely reassuring. He was your parent and in a way had become attached, and he would do all he could to protect you and love you unconditionally. Even if he doesn't feel that Quan Chi deserves you, if he is to have your affection Fujin must at least pretend he trusts his child to make their own choices, but there is no way he can put aside how his entire body wants to explode at the very idea of a romantic connection between you and Quan Chi. It still turns his blood cold and stomach into knots. The relationship itself was an entire grey zone. But trust is important to the family unit Fujin was determined to work through this. But the future seemed so unclear, he didn't even know if you wanted a physical and sexual connection to Quan Chi, the mere image conjuring his eyes with a thousand emotions, his mind becoming overwhelmed with disgust. He needed to calm down. "But, can you at least be careful, please?"

"I am always careful, Dad," you promised solemnly, using that term as a trump card to console him. The chuckle that left the god was forced but genuine and seemed to soothe the last bit of tension the conversation left behind.

"Alright, I suppose I can accept this arrangement. I'll trust your judgment, so long as you don't feel coerced into it," Fujin squeezed your arm with a warm smile. You couldn't help but smile warmly up at him as he began to head to your bedroom door to return to whatever else he had been doing that day. Before he left he looked back with a somewhat stern expression, his grey eyes not a shade off your own locking on you.

"Just make sure he treats you right or I'll come after him myself. All jokes aside if I find any indication Quan Chi is mistreating you, I will not hold back." His tone was serious and the way his eyes were narrow with anger made a shiver run down your spine.

"I know Fujin, I know," you say quietly knowing that all hell would rain down on Quan Chi from both Fujin and Raiden, as well as most of the other gods, should this information ever be revealed.

"And try and take some time for your friends today. They are all stressed that Shao is invoking the Mortal Kombat tournament...Again," Fujin says an exhausted sigh leaving him.

"I'll do that right now actually!" You decide to leave immediately hoping you won't bump into Raiden.

As he walks out, you call after him, "Fujin! You aren't upset with me, right?" You ask softly. Fujin smiles sadly before saying in a low voice.

"It isn't my business to be, even if you deserve so much better." You hugged Fujin.

"You really are my dad, Fujin." You reply in a joking tone with a dramatic eye roll at his sincerity.

"Don't patronize me," Fujin grumbled dryly, giving you a tight squeeze with an added hair ruffle for the insult. Before letting go and shutting your door behind the two of you, you quickly speed down the halls knowing that Earthrealms champions would be gathering at the temple's entrance. Arriving, your assumption proved true as Kung Lao, Liu Kang, Sonya, Jax, Cassie, Johnny, and the rest of their champions gather, speaking about how annoying it is to see Shao Kahn still trying to have a monarchy over Outworld and destroy Earthrealm. The debate was almost more of a venting session to let off steam rather than actually doing anything about it. You feel Liu Kang and Kung Lao's eyes on you as soon as you appear in the clearing, taking a seat on the temple's large stairs with them.

"Where have you been, (y/n)! We're all so concerned," the Shaolin monks ask as their eyes catch on that damned necklace that Quan Chi gifted you, around your neck.

"I'm fine, just sleeping for a while. You guys ready for the tournament coming up?" you try to steer the conversation elsewhere.

"Always ready to show him, I can fight," Kung Lao boasts flexing his biceps and making you giggle lightly, he could always cheer you up, no matter the circumstances, with that silly cocky attitude.

"We are," Liu Kang spoke with determination.

"Why are you wearing that?" Kung Lao asks in a harsh whisper, not wanting the others to worry about the gift from Quan Chi. You scoff and sit next to him, hoping not to cause any panic.

"Oh, I hadn't realized I was wearing it. I mean it is pretty, and it feels nice." You shrug. Liu Kang blinks in surprise.

"Do you have feelings for him?" He questions in a small concerned tone, the brown in his eyes begging and pleading for you to tell him no. You tense and just give him a tense smile back.

"He did not, did he?" Liu Kang almost sounds scandalized by the thought.

"He's alright," you manage to speak as the three of you keep hushed and Kung Lao keeps a sharp eye on those closest to you both, ensuring none of the older soldiers could overhear.

"No, no that monster isn't okay," Liu Kang rebutted.

"Calm down, it was a harmless joke." You lied in a quiet tone, staring daggers at him to shut it.

"Harmless?!" Liu Kang shot back, only to hear Kung Lao shush him as he chuckled darkly in disgust.

"Look I'm wearing it to mock him if he's at the tournament!" You say quickly, lying straight to their faces.

"That makes more sense," Kung Lao remarked. You realize quickly you don't have a plan for what you're going to do when Quan Chi does appear. That necklace was the first gift he had given you along with the first of his hundreds of letters and other gifts, all of which were still stored in your bedroom for Raiden's sanity.

"It isn't a joke, though, is it." The man remarks, watching you closely.

"That is such a loaded question," You remark avoiding his eyes, praying the question would get swept under the rug with his lack of persistence to find out the answer.

"It's not like we don't want you happy, but we must question. Is it safe to even entertain a thought of friendship let alone romantic thoughts with an evil sorcerer who tried to kill us all over and over again," Liu Kang pointed out in a level tone.

"That wasn't fair at all," Kung Lao retorts in your place. "Give her some space. Do not provoke Quan Chi. Or he'll steal her away," Kung Lao jokes, trying to tease you and ease the tension. He chuckles a bit as you hide your face in embarrassment.

"Stop, no. It's nothing, I'm not sure what to think yet, Kung Lao" you deny, rolling your eyes as his arm slings around your shoulders. "Just. Whatever happens at the tournament. Well. Yeah." The conversation goes on in a light and enjoyable tone. A sense of friendship and calm. They all enjoyed being near the calmness of the temple, especially after a moment like this.

...

As the time arrives for the first battle of Mortal Kombat, your stomach ties into knots. You can feel Raiden's eyes on you even while the champions fight, you feel a cold sweat wanting to form, you know he can see that damned necklace on you.

"Why are you wearing that, little mage?" Raiden's voice comes out in a very concerned tone. You swallow the lump in your throat before speaking.

"I'm wearing it to mock him, show him that I'll do nothing but mock him at every step. Besides, I got it ages ago, and it feels good." You attempt a lie, rubbing the back of your neck nervously, you pray it's enough to dissuade Raiden from prying further into it. His eyes stay locked onto it.

"Don't go, stay here please, or go to your room at the very least," Raiden ordered, knowing what this meant to Quan Chi. That look in his eyes, they were on fire for revenge.

"Raiden, I'm fine really. I promise you I know what I am doing. I haven't forgotten a damn thing, he's done. Trust me on this," you speak truthfully.

"You did seem less burdened recently. It is something you might be able to hold over his head," he mumbled, mulling over the thoughts.

"Besides, do you really want him focusing on me, in particular? Let him think I've fallen for it and underestimate the fighters he'll be facing. It might give us an upper hand," you insist.

"...Very well...Fine." He mutters quietly, unable to disprove the logic, despite him not approving of the plan. It was hard to refuse because you had made an excellent point. You smile brightly up at him, as his attention is caught by the fight. You glance over your shoulder, and his eyes seem to stare through you. Quan Chi is staring straight ahead, leaning against one of the many stone walls that surround the arena, keeping an eye on the fighters. Raiden returns to Fujin and Liu Kang's side watching the fight, not watching you sneak off to bug Quan Chi. As the next set of fighters is announced, your focus is interrupted, you know you won't be called to fight due to being Fujin's adopted child. Raiden tends to pull any of the punches should he fear one would be too difficult or dangerous for you to deal with. This did leave you open to distract the sorcerer that you had a strange relationship with. Not hesitating any longer you walk over to where he's stood against the wall, leaning beside him, hidden from everyone's view behind one of the pillars.

"I'm surprised I woke up and you were gone, Quan Chi," you say in a casual tone. His body immediately relaxes a smirk curling on his face, his eyes not leaving the fight.

"I needed to practice controlling my strength, mustn't destroy you by accident," his words had an upset and disappointed tone in them, it wasn't pointed towards you though, but more towards himself.

"Not even going to look at me in fear I'll shatter into nothing but sharps?" You tease in an overly dramatic voice, poking fun at his nervousness when it came to his affections. You heard him laugh at that comment and felt your chest flutter slightly in glee.

"I missed you," Quan Chi says not looking at you, hiding the emotions coursing through him. His mind wanders to memories of your lips and body. Memories that make him excited just to think of them, let alone be next to you.

"Is that so? Good to hear. Unfortunately, you haven't even looked at me yet," you let out a dramatic sigh as the necklace catches the light just right to shine into his eye. Quan Chi finally turns his head to look at you properly. And you get to stare up into those handsome and scary eyes. Those crimson orbs send shivers through your body. His eyes move between yours and the necklace, and his mouth parts at the sight. His expression gives away the whirlwind of emotions within his heart. Those eyes were completely taken by your form.

"Finally," you break the silence. "I was worried I'd have to wait the entire tournament to see your dumb handsome face," you smirked playfully. You noticed Quan Chi blush at that compliment, hearing you admit his face was handsome was definitely pleasing to him, as much of a smile as you'd ever get.

"Forgive me, it appears I needed the moment to take in your beauty. Even dressed like that you manage to put me in a trance. How in the realms do you manage it, Y/N?" He chuckles at himself for staring at you so much. He couldn't help but stare at your neck, dressed in the necklace he had given you to show how hard he'd work to have your affection. Something about you wearing something from him gave him a great boost to his ego and pride, the idea of being accepted by you was so amazing to the sorcerer. To think the sorcerer could truly make himself useful to you one day had his chest soaring, it was a moment that made his cheeks darken ever so slightly. It wasn't exactly embarrassment, though his throat had run dry, he couldn't muster the proper response his mind was going too fast and slow at the same time to comprehend.

"So, does this necklace look good on me?" You ask, obviously fishing for his attention and affection. Your eyes look up into his and suddenly you're breathless at the proximity of the two of you. His gaze looks across your face, before landing on your lips. You can tell he wants to kiss you, he is desperate for a simple press of your lips, for any sort of affection, anything that says you aren't regretting the closeness, the intimacy the two of you are beginning to form. But his expression turns into an annoyed and stressed scowl at the lack of reply. Your face contorted into an innocent and playful smile, a perfect combination to taunt him. He still wouldn't kiss you even when given the invitation and permission. His restraint was surprising, though the possibility he'd kiss you with so many gods and people around had always been low. Though it's exactly in his nature, still, this seemed to make him feel unsure of how to advance, he just wasn't sure enough about what you wanted. Not until your words had his cheeks tinting at your soft-spoken tone.

"God, you really do need help when it comes to taking hints." you laugh at his flustered behaviour. He swallowed the lump in his throat. His words come out without thought, all in response to the fact he desperately wanted to kiss you.

"Can I?.." he cuts off his sentence and gives an annoyed click of his tongue. His head moved on a swivel to make sure you two wouldn't be seen. "Be clear here, Y/n. Do you want me to kiss you?" It sounds a bit harsh, he didn't mean it that way.

"Yes, you silly fool. If I didn't, I wouldn't wear your gift to tease you," you jest. It takes all his strength and nerves to not look around as his thumb softly runs across your cheek.

"Do not tease me, I just want you," he mutters before leaning down and kissing you. This kiss isn't full of lust like some others were. It was passion, longing and desire, yes. But you could tell he was doing this not out of lust. Out of deep appreciation, affection and love. How wonderful it must feel to receive love, is a sentiment held strongly in his head and actions. How absolutely marvellous, he couldn't be more ecstatic about giving affection. Kissing you was everything to him. To share this tender moment with you, even with him still hesitant, was amazing. These were moments the sorcerer wished could last forever. He wasn't sure how to express the affection and appreciation you had shown him, a moment with the most special person in his life. After pulling apart his face looked tired but the small and smug smirk you held. You had done so much for the sorcerer without even knowing. Just showing him a bit of affection had completely broken down any of his outer walls. He now fully opened himself to you, the look on your face when he pulled away showed happiness and genuine love.

"Now, what's the real reason you wore that necklace?" He spoke softly not a hint of venom in his tone, his eyes didn't show anger or pain just a desire for understanding.

"Because you gave it to me," you reply a heartfelt smile on your face and a light giggle in your voice as your hand cupped his cheek in a gentle loving gesture. Quan Chi chuckles at that, a soft smile curls on his face, and you catch him in a gentle yet loving hug. His forehead presses against your own and his fingers gently brush your hair back.

"That can't be the only reason, tell me?" The sorcerer presses. His arms wrap around your back and pull you closer into an embrace, his body heat pouring onto you.

"That is the real reason," you urge gently as you nuzzle your nose against his.

"I can't accept that as the reason, please? Tell me the full truth," he insists and you smirk softly.

"You just can't accept I genuinely like one of the many gifts you gave me," you laugh a bit, which Quan Chi follows with his deep and throaty chuckle. You relish in the fact you are now allowed to openly touch and hug him. "It's a nice reminder of you. Cold to the touch but beautiful nonetheless. Just like you." You tease. "That, and I have another motive." You mumble and watch as a scowl forms on his face.

"And that would be?" his tone is sharp as a dagger at the new implication you have been hiding things from him.

"Teasing you, when you know you can't come near me. Like when I'm with Raiden and Fujin, or when I'm with Earthrealms champions, or when I'm speaking with Kotal and his champions." You admit, the smirk on his face proves his amusement, however, his gaze remains nervous for the moment, unsure if that is your genuine answer.

"I think it'll be fun to watch you squirm when another man speaks to me, specifically the men you hate," you giggle as you press a couple of kisses to his face, and eventually his lips. Quan Chi growled playfully at the mention of his past victims but otherwise didn't respond with any form of aggression.

"You'll notice that I will have very little self-restraint to not kill them if they are inappropriate around you," his grip tightening ever so slightly to emphasize that.

"You and Raiden both," you chuckle as you see that jealous side of him begin to come forward, which sends butterflies to your stomach. "I'll do my best, besides. You could stand to be a bit jealous." Your hand held his tightly, refusing to let go. The jealous gleam in his eyes and the curl in his upper lip brought a spark of happiness within you. "Perhaps my second intention will be watching you struggle not to kill them, that or having an excuse to mock and tease you," you let the joke roll off your tongue without a second thought, before giving him a few more kisses to try and distract the man.

"Just how did I let you take my heart, hmm?" Quan Chi hummed against your ear. He held you close in an affectionate hug. A long quiet moment passes. Neither one of you move, nor break the hold.

"If only you hadn't worn the necklace to my surprise. Now, I am suspicious that this isn't a scheme to manipulate me," the man thinks aloud, trying to determine the intent behind your action.

"You're the scheming manipulator out of the two of us," you giggle as your palm brushes his back feeling the muscles shudder under your touch.

"Well... yes," he stumbles with the word a bit, biting his lip for a moment, fighting the urge to steal your breath in longing kisses. "I was convinced you hated me, yet you still wore a present of mine, Y/n, to spite me," he quickly recovered.

"Who said I hate you still? You've slept in my bed, shared my embrace, shared more than a few kisses, and even patched up my lip," your breath hits the shell of his ear as you speak. He is speechless for a moment and not only from your proximity and the sensation of your touch. His chest feels like it will burst at any moment at this news, happiness pours over his features and it looks strange seeing his normally smug or neutral face, morph into an expression full of love like a lovesick puppy. His hands grip yours tightly. You can't help but giggle at this expression you've never before on his face. "Admittedly, I do not know why I find you attractive and alluring, especially with how different we are," the heat in his ears is obvious from the red tint, especially at the slight insult of him being older compared to you by a few centuries at least. His cheeks only managed to heat more at the fact his pride had taken that blow and seemed to want to convince himself you were serious. "I care for you. Very much." That sent his heart and mind reading, a faint smile resting on his lips as his pride recovered from the previous comments.

"Now you've surprised me with that honesty, my little mage." The man's laughter sounded genuine and like heaven to your ears. That deep yet silky and calming tone was a melody you wished to have sung into your ears.

"Was this really the level of surprise you were hoping to see in me, (y/n), after your little tricks?" His thumb grazed your lower lip, "did you wish to see me crumble at such a display?"

"Not intentionally, but it is a nice side-effect to being honest, I'll have to keep it in mind," you can't help the words tumble out with a faint laugh at his comment. He was quick to regain composure, a cheeky smirk curling on his face.

"Tch. You wound my poor pride so."

"It's good for you," your snarky response got a very mild offended look from him, it was more amusement than offended. He huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes.

"Cheeky mage," he narrows his eyes at you playfully. You laugh and bring his face in for a kiss, his pride quickly falling apart. His breathing is softer and calmer, like a warm blanket comforting the two of you, and his shoulders relax. Every few minutes the fight plays in his mind and he watches like a hawk, ever vigilant of his surroundings. You gently pull away from him before speaking,

"I should get back to Fujin and the others before someone gets suspicious." You chuckle out. His breath comes out in a small, quiet chuckle and it sends sparks across your skin.

"I'll see you later?" You ask softly as your hands brush over his cheek, running from his shoulder and down his chest, memorising every crease and ridge with your fingertips, finding his heartbeat to feel its erratic yet strangely soothing beat.

"Of course, love," Quan Chi promises, knowing deep inside that he'd keep the promise. He felt a certain spark that he was in need to fulfil that promise, like you would cease to exist without him by your side, a moment alone was no longer appealing or satisfying without you. You smile up at him as you walk away from him and go back to where everyone was. When you return you are instantly snatched into an embrace, Fujin.

"Where did you go?!" Fujin says very worried his eyes glance over you making sure you're uninjured, and his eyes linger on the necklace. His face slowly changes to a knowing one, displeased to know exactly where you went and who you were with. A sigh leaves him as he smiles before leading you back to the Earthrealm champions. Raiden immediately asks the same questions when he returns.

"Are you harmed, Y/n?" Fujin is quick to inform his brother, but he chooses to dismiss the idea of Quan Chi even being around you, knowing he'd react angrily. You reassure Raiden and he leaves you be once assured you are unharmed. Fujin gently grips your upper arm and guides you back to Earthrealms viewing stands.

"Careful, I don't trust Shao to have someone attack you outside of their fights," you look over to Fujin and give him a simple smile, he clearly worries about your safety a lot. You find a space between Jax and Erron. The gunman takes note of your necklace and his curiosity seems peaked before speaking.

"You know wearing those makes you a target for murder," his words are in a soft and concerned tone as his hand wraps over your shoulder, his eyes examining the silver.

"Yes, I do know that Erron. But I have plenty of allies ready to help me if needed," your response is soft and happy before hearing Erron click his tongue.

"Darlin', even so it's not safe. And I doubt you got that from here. Considering all the warriors-" his words stop as Kotal comes up behind the two of you a hand on each of your shoulders as his arms hold each other over your forms. He wears a wide grin as he interrupts the Earthrealmers. You lean back and crane your up revealing your neck and throat, a warm smile before you greet the Kahn.

"Good to see you again Kotal Kahn, may I ask what brings you this way?" His fingers press a bit harder to your shoulders and you take that moment to rest your head on his chest, leaning into the side of your head on his strong bicep. You can feel Quan Chi's eyes burning a hole into where your head makes contact with Kotal's arm. Kotal's warm laugh shakes the air around him before he pulls back, leaving his hand on your shoulder.

"What do you believe brings me to your side?" you smirk, shaking your head lightly, as you look over to Jax for his input, receiving only a playful eye-roll.

"My lovely commentary?" You joke and the Kahn laughs loudly and heartily, giving a curt nod in response. You see Kotal's eyes on your neck around your collarbone, as his eyes squint slightly and the necklace shines brightly into his eyes. A small grunt before Kotal addresses the men on either side of you.

"May we have a moment?" It wasn't exactly phrased as a question. Jax shrugs in response, not caring for you spending time with Kotal. Erron's face is set in a stern line, unhappy and tense with Kotal being around you and how comfortable you seem to be to use sarcasm and joke with the Kahn. He simply stood up and walked away to where Takeda and Kuai stood with Kung Lao.

"Speak your peace, Kotal." He nods slowly, knowing full well the eyes of Quan Chi were pinned and locked onto his hand on your shoulder and your head on his other arm. A laugh slips past his lips, as he moves to sit next to you his hand still on your shoulder. He sits with his legs spread wide like always, his knee pressing against yours fully.

"Do I have you and Earthrealm's support should a war break out between Shao and I?" It's a rather casual question, he speaks in a whisper and holds an intimidating smirk, confident and teasing as always. You feel a bit trapped though, because Kotal, despite not showing outward discomfort. But is holding in his emotions over the kink he feels from your legs pressing so closely to his and how casually your head lies on his arm.

"Don't be ridiculous," you breathe out with a low laugh, smiling at the Outworld Kahn as he rests his arm around your shoulders.

"You will have our support, if it comes down to a war between you and him," you confirm, as your feet brush along the floor you sit back and let yourself enjoy the moment, even though you can hear a quiet growl of annoyance. "After all, Outworld has been growing stronger since your rein, and more open to other realms and their people. It has created a lot of strong bonds over the years with our realms, but it could only be enhanced and benefited by helping each other in times of need." You smile genuinely at him and pat his exposed thigh in a friendly jesting manner. He seems to perk up at the light touch, squeezing you closer as a silent sign of appreciation.

"Glad to hear of your alliance with Outworld, it will surely make both our worlds stronger," Kotal seemed happy, so pleased with the answers given he nodded as he spoke, not wanting to upset you or scare you away. You lay your hand back down and watch the next fights continue. Kotal and you have a small talk here and there and discuss the fighting techniques used by the fighters. From time to time Kotal laughs heartily which has some curious heads turn towards him. The chatter becomes louder as some are drawn towards his booming laughter and try to overhear your conversations, along with some jealous glares from a certain sorcerer.

The day carries on until it's near the final fights for the first day of the tournament. Kotal got up to go greet his lovely lady Jade who had finished her round victoriously. You stay and watch as the next fight starts, letting Kotal and Jade have their moment in peace. It was then you felt an unwelcome finger brush your left ear, twitching you trying to shy away. Until a second time that finger runs up the cartilage and you almost shove the larger hand away. You send a mean glare towards the offending hand, seeing its owner to be Kano. You feel violated and disgusted, his eye undresses you shamelessly, He keeps looking at the necklace. He smells like piss and BO.

"That's a gorgeous necklace you got there darlin'," he leers over you as his hand gabs your thigh. You lean away instinctively, uncomfortable by his mere presence alone.

"Back. Off," a warning growl leaves your lips at his brazen touching. "I do not desire to make an acquaintance of you Kano. So, remove. Your. Hand. If you value it." He is seemingly unphased as his hand continues to travel up your inner thigh.

"If I touch ya? What's the worst you'll do? Turn me into a frog and feed me to a lizard?" His grip tightens, digging his fingers into your leg. You grit your teeth, letting an icy gaze look back to his cold eye. You huff, attempting to twist out of his grip, to no avail.

"Gonna call your guard dogs Raiden and Fujin? Loved to watch 'em cry, when I cut your pretty little throat for screamin'," his sinister chuckle, causes the hairs on the back of your neck and on the top of your head to stand up. Your blood feels frozen, you always hated Kano...No hated is too kind a word to describe your disgust of the man, loathe is the only suitable word. Even with all of your training, Kano could easily overpower you. In the few run-ins you've had with him, he's always won. He's never been this direct with his disgusting behaviour before.

"I'd be a shame for me to let ya sit all by yourself," his face inches close to yours, hot stinking breath forcing you to breathe through your mouth. His one-eyed glance undresses every fibre of clothing on you as if he's already picturing you naked, and in a bed, at his mercy. You want to vomit, he found you alone after Kotal left to see his partner. He planned to get you alone and it made you sick. Your stomach lurches, anger, and repulsion, coiling like a snake under your skin, tainting every good thought or feeling with its dark poison. His hand crept further up your thigh.

"Come on gorgeous why don't you smile for me and say you're glad I sat with ya," His lips stretch into a wide malicious smile as his tongue slowly slithers over his lip. You spit right into his eye. He lets out a pained yelp, the glob of your saliva rolling down his cheek before he growls darkly. You used the moment to stand up and make space between the two of you. You keep your eyes on him as you keep backing away, hoping anyone will step in and help. Kano's bigger, taller, and stronger than you. You know how and when to pick fights and he's one you never like to have.

He wipes the spittle from his eye, taking slow long and dangerous steps toward you, a devious glint in his eye, his hand moves towards his boe knife. His grin was vile, cruel. He licked his lip.

"I love 'em feisty," His voice is thick with arousal at your fear. Your hands come up to shield yourself, ready to call a lightning bolt to help when suddenly a white-skinned hand clenches down on his wrist, tight enough his bones grind together, cracking audibly. His blade never unsheathing from its place, caught in a tight painful grip. A deep guttural growl sounds into the air and your breath stops.

Quan Chi holds him by the wrist in an ironclad grip, his eyes burning like hellfire. His nostrils flaring, trying to stop his temper from striking out, wanting to spare you from seeing the violent wrath within him. You've seen it already, but only very rarely and it frightened you, watching him massacre his enemies is different to watching him kill an enemy for you. It was exhilarating, your hands trembled in a mix of fear and disgust. Quan Chi tucks you behind himself as he lets Kano go with a harsh shove, snarling as his body places itself firmly between you and the mercenary.

"Go. Before I rip your limbs off with my bare hands," it sounded like a purr and a growl mixing together in an animalistic threat, dripping with rage. He was terrifying, more terrifying than Shang Tsung's flesh pits ever could be.

"Tch, come on pal, I was just being friendly," the gruff voice had lost all traces of amusement, now Kano feared for his own hide and with good reason, Quan Chi was angrier than either you or the pile of filth have ever seen. His chest heaves with each breath, his nostrils are flared, his eyes hold a violent hate-filled fire, his face is scrunched in pure bloodlust-filled rage and his ash white skin is red. It looked wrong on his usually composed face, it made you shiver, you could feel the anger-filled heat radiating off of his body, his fist trembling as he held back from going straight for his throat.

"C'mon Quan Chi- mate we was just- well ya see we-" Quan Chi takes another step forward, his arms uncrossed and his stance becomes broader as his legs move forward and back.

"WATCH YOUR TONGUE MERCENARY," you jump back at his harsh loud tone, he's so angry.

"Unless you desire it plucked out," his hands are balled tightly in fists, his muscles bulging with restraint, ready to snap. Kano gulps, his hand slipping to grab his sword, knowing Quan Chi and his history with cutting tongues.

"I-well-see- mate- ya- y'know what?" He throws his hands up defensively and his lips stretch wide as a scared grin takes residence, Kano's eye looks at you in fear as if begging you to 'call off your guard dog,' a guttural growl leaves Quan Chi's throat when Kano's eye stays on you for more than a millisecond.

"Do. Not. Look. At. Them." The seething venom in the sorcerer's words is potent, you feel uneasy from hearing the malice in his voice, it's unlike anything you've ever heard.

"H-hey, let's not do this mate, don't get involved," Kano's eyes scan the crowds to try and catch sight of Kabal. Quan Chi shoves his palm on the other's nose and snarls loudly and furiously, stopping Kano dead.

"I said- D o n o t," his eyes spark angrily, with such violent hate they could rival Sindel's deadly piercing glare. He inhales deeply through his nose, his hands once again curled into balls, his forefingers extended, as you notice a slight glow coming from the edges, you shudder at what's likely about to happen. You know it will cause a scene and more than likely a panic in the crowd of spectators in the Kollosum. You gently wrap your arms around his biceps. You watch his head shake.

"Stop, Quan, enough," Your tone holds an equal venom of seething hatred for the Aussie. As you plead for the Sorcerer to cease and allow his victim to retreat, hoping he'll have mercy and allow the slimy scumbag a chance at living another day. "Killing him is a good idea OUTSIDE of the tournament. You'll cause panic and lots of issues, you'll draw attention." Your eyes land on Quan Chi's shoulders as they hitch up a few degrees at the words of a 'good idea.' It seems you made a fair point when it was said aloud, causing him to shift his priorities away from wanting Kano's blood to wanting yours.

A few moments pass as you patiently stand there, waiting for an answer. You don't realize just how protective Quan Chi is over you. Nor how he reacts to your fears and comfort and desire for someone's safety.

"I despise him as much as you, and as much as I'd like him dead. Now is not the time or place to kill him, yes?" Quan Chi seems conflicted, and for a while doesn't move or speak, though his anger and resentment show and his nose scrunches in a snarl, you gently rest your head onto the centre of his spine and sigh. "Come now Quan Chi, you are better than him, more composed and you have manners. Do not sink to his level," you can tell it worked a bit when his fists stopped glowing and relaxed, but Kano doesn't catch the message.

"Don't let that bitch control you," Kano sneers out glaring at you, Kano always has enjoyed seeing how far he can take the inch he's given. This time he's pushing Quan Chi way further, when he snarls Kano smirks but that smirk falls as Quan Chi punches his face repeatedly, ignoring shouts of guards, Kotal hears the shouts and moves quickly to get you away from the situation. While Quan Chi is tall Kotal towers over him as he quickly moves to pull you away from Quan Chi's back. You yelp in panic as Kotal holds you close to him in a protective hold, Jade not far behind him. You shiver as you watch the violence that Kano had set in motion with his words. His nose is broken and gushing red all over the sorcerer, you hear the sounds of breaking bones as the sound echoes over the shouts of panic, it causes a ringing in your ears.

Kotal quickly moves both you and Jade away in fear that Quan Chi will turn towards one of you. You would never agree to allow him to continue beating on Kano even after what the mercenary said to you, but you feel compelled to tell Quan Chi to stop. But when you're suddenly whisked away in strong and protective arms, and taken somewhere safe. Your stomach drops, and you feel it leave your body and plummet to your toes. Quan Chi. Someone needed to stop him before he actually murdered an innocent person.

"Kotal stop! Let go, I'm fine!" Your attempts to worm and squirm away are futile in the large arms of the Outworlder Emperor, he seems unconvinced. Your feet dangle off the ground while you're held tight to his chest with one arm.

"QUAN CHI ENOUGH!" Your shout is loud enough to cause him to stop mid-swing snapping his head in the direction of your voice. When Kotal sees the rage melt away from Quan Chi's face, turning to desperation to get to you he decides to let you go. Kotal's hold loosened in his confusion just enough for you to scramble down and sprint to his side.

He breathes heavily through his nose, not focusing on anyone but you, his pupils dilated, and his rage has washed over into concern at the fact he could have harmed you without meaning to. He's drenched in Kano's blood shaking in rage, his fists in tight balls to the point the veins in his arms are prominent. You can hear Kano groan in agony from the vicious beating. Quan Chi tries his damnedest to listen to you but is failing miserably, having worked himself up and into an enraged state.

"Please. Stop. This has gotten way out of hand. Stop, for me; please." You plead, you hate begging Quan Chi to not do something. Knowing that his stubbornness rivals yours. It was either he continued to pound the life out of Kano's face until there was nothing left of it and have the guards go to stop him the best they can causing more loss of life, or he can be reasonable, and let Kano go without killing someone. You know you'll have to beg Kotal not to have his guards go after Quan Chi for their own safety, not his. Your eyes plead with him silently, staring up at his bloodlust-filled and enraged ones.

The death wish was his and his alone, he took on Shao Khan once and lived to tell the tale, not even the Thunder God could stop him in that enraged state. You touch his blood-soaked cheek hoping to pull him back from his own rage, and his anger-filled features slowly fall. You hold his attention, his eyes stare right back. "Be reasonable and not violent for my sake. For my sake. Be better and let him go find a rock to crawl under."

There's an evident shift when Kano spits his teeth onto the arena ground, having had a couple ripped out by a mean and harshly timed uppercut. "He's learned the hard way not to insult us," you whisper the sentence quietly so only Quan Chi can hear you. The hard, angry expression and cold aura he held quickly faded and when he went to reach to touch you, Kotal pounded his foot loudly onto the arena's floor. You're quick to hold your hand out in a 'stop' motion towards the concerned Kahn.

"It's fine Kotal, it's handled now." You offer, turning to face the Osh-Tekk fully, leaving yourself wide open for Quan Chi to attack if he had it in him. Thankfully for your sake, it seems like the magic user's anger has fizzled out, his fists relaxing, no longer holding his biceps. Quan Chi is not the type to smile with others around, so instead he grabs your wrist gently, bringing the knuckles to his lips with a tender and loving kiss, mouthing a quiet, barely audible apology as he locks eyes with Kotal as if begging him to try to remove you from his presence. He can be childish sometimes, in private or in public it doesn't matter, he has no shame. Kotal relaxes when he watches Quan Chi give him an intense cold dead-eyed glare that clearly translates to 'don't even THINK about it' as you remain firmly anchored in front of the sorcerer. The look of pure confusion on Kotal's face speaks volumes as you turn back to smile up to Quan Chi with a soft, forgiving expression.

"They'll both be fine Kotal. No need to worry, let them be," Jade adds softly and delicately in an attempt to have him listen and believe that everything is under control.

"How? When did they? How did they?" Kotal's voice drips in confusion as questions seem to die on his tongue. He can't put his questions into proper order as his brain tries to comprehend the whole picture.

"Now's really not the time Kotal for those questions dear friend," you interrupt softly and gently, carefully watching Quan Chi as you try your hardest to talk Kotal out of getting in between the two of you. In your current position, his grip isn't gentle but not tight, in this position if someone tried to move you or take you, Quan Chi is the only threat. You hold his gaze waiting to see what his next move is and after a brief internal battle, he leans down to gently press his forehead to the side of yours.

"Would you like me to move away, my Love?" You hear his breath hitch as he quietly speaks. He sounded, dare you say it, hurt at your soft suggestion, as he was asking permission to touch and comfort you.

"You're fine just no more bloodshed outside of the arena, please Quan Chi." Quan Chi gently caresses the flesh of your wrist before you reach back and slip your fingers gently around his elbow.

"So be it," Quan Chi bows his head respectfully and slowly to Kotal and then Jade before standing at his full height next to you. Kotal merely nods respectfully in reply to Quan Chi's small act, no doubt, he's a little thrown for a loop at the blatant open affection before him from a man who showed no outward emotion but pure indifference. You smile between the two men and Jade, pleased to have ended the violent outburst peacefully and without any further intervention. Kotal makes a motion for his guards to deal with Kano but give you and Quan Chi a wide burst so to speak.

"Come, walk with us a moment," Kotal speaks, offering to walk with you in hopes Quan Chi will get the hint not to harm or disturb you again today. Jade catches onto his intentions and smiles brightly as she moves to stand next to him to start walking back to the viewing area above the stadium. You grin at Quan Chi and take his hand as you walk with him next to Kotal and Jade. Jade walks next to you with Kotal close beside her and Quan Chi close beside you, his blood-drenched hand holding your hand. The walk is quiet, Kotal is stiff seemingly tense. Once inside the privacy of the royal watching area above the Kollosum, Kotal begins with the questions.

"You and Quan Chi are...?"

"Together? Yes." You say it with a soft confident smile, as you tend to Quan Chi, trying to clean some of the blood off of him.

"When did it happen?" He seemed curious and interested in your happiness and choices in your life, yet concerned about your well-being at the same time.

"Not long," you continue as you wipe the blood off of his face gently with some cloth in your hand, with him remaining still under the motions. "We kept things quiet, well more like Quan and I kept our interactions a secret. So to say. The only other person who knows of the relationship is Fujin, my adoptive father," You add, continuing your cleaning.

"May we speak freely? Or is that too much to ask?" Kotal seems perplexed at what he can and can't do and asks.

"Kotal, you know you can speak freely with me whenever," you smile and assure him it's fine before smiling brighter at the grunts Quan Chi lets escape. You think it's an adorable sound and gently brush the blood and flesh off of his cheek with a soft delicate touch, being mindful of how his nerves are probably shot and sensivite. You use some water from a pitcher to wet the cloth hoping to get the dried blood off of Quan Chi's skin, the smell of Kano's coppery blood sickens you and Jade.

"No more, no more fighting outside of the matches," Kotal says bluntly.

"My thoughts exactly," you answer, tilting Quan Chi's head to the side so you can gently wipe the blood spatter off of his temple and ear. Giving Quan Chi a look that told him that this is the one time you'll be able to save his ass from imprisonment in Kotal's prison. "After that display, he'd definitely be locked up till he'd learn his lesson." Quan Chi growls lowly and softly, rolling his eyes dramatically. You flick his nose telling him to show some respect. He is a guest here. You've scolded him softly under the guise that you two had discussed his behaviour, Kotal only laughed heartily. You smile up at him as you work on washing away Kano's blood off of his bare skin. "At least no one died this time," you add looking at Quan Chi.

"On whose request is it that Quan Chi does not attack anyone out of turn again?" Kotal raises an eyebrow at you, waiting for you to answer.

"Mine." You give Quan Chi a sharp but loving look with an underlying message, one he reads easily.

'Behave.'

"How are you two even-" His question dies on his lips as he tries to find the right words earning himself a glare from Jade. You have finished with cleaning Quan Chi's face and return the water, gently wiping his upper lip with the cloth in your grasp.

"Care to try again Kotal?" You raise an eyebrow waiting for him to either ask his original question again, or he asks something completely different. Either way, you are willing to wait it out, feeling comfortable next to Quan Chi, leaning into him without fear. Kotal watches your movement in silent observation and clear astonishment.

"How are you two even a couple, you are vastly different from him," Kotal questions, trying to grasp the concept.

"Kotal don't-" Jade whispers, sounding worried and concerned, perhaps feeling protective of you and your well-being.

"Like a Firefly and Moon, one shined brightly in the darkest of times while the other reflected the brightness and warmth in the darkness," You offer your explanation softly in a way Kotal would understand best. "No matter their differences they still complement and care for the other." Kotal seems to contemplate your words and nods a moment later. He always respected your old-fashioned, but lovely, old-world beliefs in many things and never found an issue with them, in fact, he found them rather pleasing and gave you insight and light into his own cultures, beliefs, and ideas.

"You are wise," Kotal sighs, accepting the new change in your life. Jade smiled at you and offered her congratulations on finding love again. Quan Chi remained quiet during their discussion with him occasionally offering a gruff reply with a light embarrassed flush on his cheeks when you place a kiss onto his cleaned cheekbone. You wipe the blood off of your wrist and hands before offering the cloth to Quan Chi to wash the blood off of his hands and fingertips. The sorcerer makes quick and easy work of the gore.

Kotal moves away to talk with a few guards who knocked on the door about whether Kano was arrested or not. Before returning, he catches the tail end of what Quan Chi is muttering to you.

"-are you sure about this? They're people you live and socialize with daily and now know you're attached to a murderous being known throughout the realms," Quan Chi looks deep and intense, he looks for lies and signs of discomfort in you as you smile brightly at him. Kotal returns to his chair with a light smile on his face as he's still in the dark as to how a couple of "opposites" work. You seem to sense that and without much thought answer Quan Chi.

"If it's not too much to request from both of you, Kotal Kahn, Jade. Will you keep Quan Chi and I's relationship a secret?" You look from Quan Chi then to the two of them, watching Quan Chi swallow harshly next to you and gripping your hand tight for a moment, Kotal and Jade share a quick look before speaking.

"Does Fujin know of your current attachments?" Jade tilts her head curiously with a warm and kind smile on her features.

"He is the only other person who knows about it outside of you two." You keep your features neutral, your voice not giving away your concern about them telling someone else about this.

"Then it remains a secret, to everyone and we shall keep your secret hidden for your well-being," Kotal bows his head in understanding, you and Quan Chi mirror the gesture.

"Thank you for your trust, both of you." You say your voice filled with relief.

"But if you dare cause any harm to them, not only will we have your head Quan Chi, but Fujin will rip every inch of you limb by limb and piece by piece," Kotal growls menacingly at Quan Chi with an accusatory finger pointed his way. Your mouth opens in shock as Quan Chi stiffens beside you. Jade chides Kotal for threatening your significant other in front of your face. You give Quan Chi's hand a reassuring squeeze, telling him he's safe for the moment and won't die yet. His features return to being neutral, unfazed, and unmoved by the Emperor's threats. Kotal clears his throat before beginning again as he notices the soft and loving touches between you and Quan Chi. How Quan Chi stroked the back of your hand with his thumb in circles as if you soothe the both of you. Kotal sighed and regained his composure to ask. "Are we ever going to see that same violent side of him again?"

"No. Not outside of the matches at least. In case that display was unclear if anyone threatens my (y/n) in the ways Kano did there will be blood, and it'll be shed," Quan Chi's voice dropped and became deep and gravelly in a subtle threat, a shiver rolled through your spine in fear and excitement. Kotal ignores the part of the statement about yourself and chuckles at the death threat towards Kano, wanting that outcome himself.

"Kano had it coming, to be honest," Jade admits honestly with a soft scoff.

"By the order of your King. I had him arrested," Kotal informed, smiling and clearly excited, but that fell the moment his gaze flicked over to the magic user.

"It should remain that way until I want his blood," Quan Chi sneers at the Emperor, looking a mixture of satisfied and irked, you let a sigh fall through your lips before smacking the back of Quan's head, demanding an apology and for him to be respectful, Quan Chi apologises after an embarrassing bit of pleading and grovelling, the action earns an impressed stare from Kotal at how easily you seem to be able to wrangle a beast like Quan Chi, even Jade finds it sweet that someone is capable of handling him.

"Still as charming as ever," You deadpan with an annoyed huff, arms crossing over your chest as you wait for an apology from him, Quan Chi groans loudly.

"My sincerest apologies (y/n), I truly am a mere slave to your will," Quan Chi apologizes in a sarcasm-dipped tone, a clear non-apology apology. With an eye roll and a raised eyebrow, you give him the 'oh really' look' as you cross your arms and move away from him just far enough his hands can't reach you. You don't say anything as you smile at Jade and Kotal with the 'sorry my partners a dick' kind of grin. Kotal clears his throat uncomfortably with a grin on his face, watching your dynamic with an entertained glint in his eyes. Jade giggled It was clear she saw her relationship in yours.

"Not good enough?" Quan Chi questions innocently, playing with the blood under his fingernails. You give him the silent treatment while you watch the fights continue to go on in the arena below. The silence is suffocating him, Quan Chi despises silence and hates not hearing your voice the most. A scowl adorns his features and is heavily on his face, a frown is all his features hold as you're pointedly ignoring him. You give Jade and Kotal a knowing look as the silence drags on, they chuckle quietly at Quan's discomfort. When Quan Chi shifts, ready to grab you and beg forgiveness, you can't hide the amusement on your features and give in.

"What did Fujin do when he caught you?" Jade asked her curiosity peaked.

"Oh no, he didn't know until he and I talked. You see Quan Chi was sneaking into my room to leave letters and gifts for m-" Quan Chi moved quickly to cover your mouth embarrassed about how desperate and creepy that sounded his eyes wide in embarrassment and worry. Jade giggled, her hand covering her mouth with her eyes filled with joy, she was glad you've found happiness even if the happiness was strange. Kotal groaned as if the details of you two's interactions were hurting him. You giggle against Quan Chi's palm as you see his flustered appearance, moving his hand slowly as if expecting you to keep talking.

"He actually gifted me this necklace," you point at the trinket hanging from your neck as Quan Chi backs up and begins his brooding on a nearby seat, as you speak about his softer side so openly.

"Did you tell him anything or do anything back?" Jade asked with a look at Quan Chi, you smirked at the man sulking on his chair, in a form of reassurance before answering.

"No not right away, I thought it was cursed at first. So when I didn't respond to his letter and gift; he left me another the next day. He did that for 5 whole months," you can hear Quan Chi groan in embarrassment in his chair. "Then I was in the living forest, I found him and he looked drained as if he hadn't slept well at all. He stopped taking care of himself to try and get my attention," you giggle as does Jade while Kotal groans as he can tell Jade and you are going to be talking like this until the matches end. You and Jade will embarrass both men to death. Jade asked for more information, which you happily give away as you two trade stories about your partners.

"Are you feeling alright Kotal?" Jade asked quietly after catching sight of his twitching eye and rubbing at his temples. Kotal blinked and groaned and quietly confirmed that he was feeling a little embarrassed and uncomfortable, Jade stifled a giggle at his misery. You glance at Quan Chi who's still sulking, you roll your eyes, as you already know how to break him.

"Do you want to see one of the many letters he wrote me?" You ask hearing a noise escape Quan Chi as you and Jade giggle as you pull out one of his more romantic letters that you had folded neatly in your breast pocket. Quan Chi is red in the face and he's sunk down into his chair to try and hide. You unfold it and hold it out to Jade who quickly begins reading it as you look over her shoulder, as does Kotal. You giggle as they both read his calligraphic penmanship. You can see and hear Quan Chi squirm uncomfortably as Kotal lets a smirk pull at his features. Jade chuckled and cooed at the romantic contents of the letter, even Kotal let a chuckle slip past his lips, as the pair finished reading it. Jade holds the letter back for you to take, giving you an amused and thoughtful look, her eyebrows wiggling. You fold the letter back up and put it into your breast pocket. Kotal sits in thought a moment after both women fall quiet.

"Kotal you're going to have to step up your game," you tease lightly as Jade giggles with a look that seems to be begging him to write his feelings for her on paper at some point for her to read.

"My word is stronger than ink," Kotal replied, giving Jade a soft smile before the three of you continued trading and gossiping while Quan Chi sulked as if wanting to vanish from the embarrassment alone. You find Quan Chi's brooding and embarrassment absolutely adorable, so cute, even if you like to rile him up and get him all flustered. It's not long until the tournament comes to an end for the day. You thank the Emperor for his gracious and open hospitality before you follow Jade, and your new travel companion, to a guest room.

"There will only be one bed." Jade sounded like an amused, scolding mother, teasing a child for a crush. You can't help but giggle at her tone of voice before she asks how you two feel about sharing a room.

"It won't be the first time we share the same space," you say kindly as you pat Quan Chi's arm softly as if it were something cute and sweet, even if it is rather out of character for him to be like this. Quan Chi finally gives up his silence and groans in annoyance at all the poking, prodding, and teasing that has been going on. The sorcerer swatted your hand away after another gentle stroke of his arm. A grunt of disapproval vibrates through him at the public display of affection. You frown at his dismissal and shake your head. Quan Chi wanted the ground to swallow him whole, Jade and Kotal may know of you two, but that didn't mean he wanted anyone to know of your feelings for him. It wasn't because he didn't love you, he was scared people were going to hurt you to get to him, or worse. You purse your lips as Jade excuses herself to help Kotal prepare for his fight against Shao Kahn.

You throw your arms around him tightly once the door is shut behind Jade. He stiffened in your arms and grunted his displeasure, but you just ignored his rudeness.

"I have never seen you that angry, I was so concerned about you," you whispered honestly and seriously, the dark and scary expression on his features will be burnt into your mind for the rest of eternity. It will stay forever vivid and alive in your memories. "The look you had...It'll be a dark vivid vision burned into my mind for eternity," you mumble to him, letting him hear and understand the severity and truth of your fear. Quan Chi turns his face from you as you back up a couple of steps away. You watch the expression on his face closely, silently counting.

When you get to the count of 5 his cold and stoic appearance falls off, showing a sad, upset, and frustrated look underneath the facade. His shoulders droop a bit from their square position, his lip quirks downwards at the corners a bit and his gaze is filled with shame, and he's holding back a pout. He avoids eye contact for a few moments longer.

"Are you okay?" Your voice quivers with the question and the lump that has formed in your throat.

"Yes. I should be the one asking you that, you are clearly shaken," Quan Chi responds a bit quietly his tone holding his feelings back like always. His hands gently move towards you, holding your face softly in a caring manner. His thumb strokes your skin. It takes a moment before he sighs softly, his tense features relax a fraction as he looks deeply into your eyes. "I would do it again if Kano or any other being touched and talked to you the way Kano did. I never meant to scare or harm you," he stroked your cheek delicately, as you touched and stroked the tops of his fingers. You breathe deeply and lean your face into his warm hand.

"That was scary, I have never seen you get that enraged. What were you thinking?" Your voice quivered and broke, coming out louder than expected. Quan Chi hissed your name and shook his head.

"I wasn't, I was jealous and disgusted at how he could touch you and not a single person-" His tone rises and his hold on your face changes before he cuts himself off to take a deep breath and loosen his hold to gently stroke your cheekbones. You nodded understanding where he was heading with his rant, understanding he just wanted to protect you. You sighed, slowly understanding he wanted to prevent you from getting hurt or feeling used. After a long deep sigh, you stepped closer, Quan Chi removed his hands from your face, backing up and avoiding eye contact.

"Don't back away from me Quan Chi, you don't scare me," you state, tilting your head as your significant other steps further and further away from you.

"No...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gotten so violent and angered I-I understand if you would prefer I didn't accompany you any-" You're quick to close the distance and steal his lips in a loving kiss, gently grasping at his shoulders.

"No-o." Your lips still touched, soft breath mixing between your joined mouths. His hands rested on your hips, clutching tightly. Quan Chi stiffened and was unsure of how to respond.

"Please do not leave me, we just started this relationship and I'll be damned if you throw it away after all the time you spent chasing me," you mumble into his mouth. His brows furrow and he tilts his face just enough to separate your joined mouths.

"You...wish for me to not go, but you just told me you were scared of me," he questioned with a tilt of his head.

"I was scared of your choice of action, not you. You will never scare me away," you breathed as he rubbed his forehead against yours, humming softly. He remained there for a few beats. Then he let out a shuddering breath, as he placed his hands on your shoulders and finally looked you in the eye.

"Please." His voice trembled. He squeezed his eyes shut tight as if to steady himself. Then he shook his head and said your name and repeated "Please..." You looked deep into his soul-filled eyes. Your hands reached up to his face, letting your fingers brush gently against his chin and sharp cheekbones, but nothing in particular as you relished the intimacy of the moment, the eye contact, the closeness of the pair of you. Your breath hitched in your throat at the most incredible look on his face as he basked in your warm gaze.

"You are so lucky I'm both friends with Kotal Kahn and in love with you," you sigh as your fingers brush over his cheek softly. He bites his lips as he holds your gaze a few more moments and you sigh, his body jerking closer, almost involuntary at your tender movements against him, and he suddenly needs to touch and feel. He whimpers quietly as his arms snaked around you pulling you flush against him, he rested his cheek on your head as you leaned your face into the crook of his neck. You place a sweet kiss on his neck as you continue to enjoy his arms wrapped around you. His heart is pounding and it thrums against his ribs. Quan Chi blinks and pulls back, one arm staying loosely around your waist.

"You love me," he asks slowly as his eyes light up with something foreign to him and you nod without skipping a beat, not a sign of hesitation in sight.

"Very much so Quan Chi," you respond sweetly, stroking the nape of his neck. His arm tightens around you and he rubs his cheek against yours in the most loving way. It's strange to see Quan Chi happy and relieved but to also be soft and sweet towards you in such a vulnerable state. He does an incredible job of masking his thoughts and feelings and when the mask falls it feels special, feels special to you to get the chance to see and hold him while he's vulnerable.

"No being has ever shown me such care," he admits quietly and with a bit of sadness, you know he is not accustomed to affection from others, so this is special, you give him a smile filled with understanding and a feeling you can't express through words, Quan Chi visibly relaxed as a loving look graced his features, filling his eyes and it was mesmerizing. Quan Chi allowed himself a moment and he dipped his head, giving you an undeniable kiss. You tried to put all your emotions and affection into the kiss, which he happily gave back. Quan Chi had not had any tender and loving moments from anybody in a very long time. He didn't dare pull his mouth from yours, instead, he scooped you off your feet easily, bridal style. You gripped his arm that held you close to his chest and he pulled his lips from you, giving you the chance to breathe.

He carried you over to the bed and lay you both down. You kept your face close to him as your heart and soul reached out to touch and be in unison with his own. His arms remained locked around you, never wanting to let go, never wanting the soft feeling in his heart to fade away. The two of you remained cuddled together in bed enjoying the warmth and touch of the other's body for what felt like the longest yet best moments of your life. His embrace, his breath, his soul, and his voice all provided the warmth and comfort that would allow you to sleep peacefully through the night. He fell asleep soon after the moment he settled into bed with you, his deep breath and slow-paced heart rate comforting. You lay on the edge of sleep, completely content. As much as he will never say it aloud, he is thrilled you accepted and returned his love. It makes him want to hold you forever in his arms and makes him feel more relaxed as you hold onto him as well. He's elated by the feeling, the feeling he's yearned for from someone for many, many years and had accepted he was never going to have. Yet here you are, returning his affection, even giving him more than he could even think of returning.

Quan Chi is deep asleep his face buried in your hair, basically draped over your body as if you'd float away without his body weight on you. You can't sleep, you are too elated to rest and a glance out the window shows how late it has become, so you can only assume Jade and Kotal Kahn are finished preparing for his battle against Shao Kahn tomorrow and have retired for the night as well. A bittersweet smile crosses your lips as you run your hand over Quan Chi's bald tattooed head, his body slacked and relaxed.

He looked so innocent, with no wrinkled skin on his forehead or furrowed brows, no harsh or icy glint in them. Quan Chi was gone, and there lay a peaceful, serene being, someone who had never known peace and who hadn't gotten a full night of rest for countless years, not for a whole night, a few hours at most. The sight makes you grin, as does the sensation of a thumb ghosting over your hip and a leg moving slightly, and the almost non-existent sound of a light and muffled snore. Quan Chi shifts, his arms tugging you into the safety and comfort of his warm embrace and a satisfied sound emits from the man. This made you melt, your heart pounding even harder than before. His movements, his facial expressions, and his actions were simply...the most amazing sight.

There is a knock on the door and Quan Chi twitches slightly in his sleep from the sound but does not wake. The door opens to reveal Jade and a stressed Fujin. You smile at both of them and wave your hand and motion for them to be quiet. Both look confused until they see Quan Chi looking so peaceful, gentle, and tender. Jade's shocked face brings a light and amused giggle from you and she covers her gaping mouth with a hand to stifle herself, a smile blooming underneath her hand. Fujin just looks dumbfounded at the sight of Quan Chi draped across you asleep. His stress seemed to be leaving him at the sight of you safe; even if Quan Chi was asleep on you.

Jade comes to sit at the foot of the bed. "How'd you do it?" Jade whispers. "I was worried I was going to come and find both of you fighting or him sleeping on the floor," she muses and you can only give her a gentle shrug and look down at the soft face of Quan Chi, the gentlest look in your eyes and a warm smile on your face. It warms Jade's heart seeing you so in love and the sleeping sorcerer so sweet and relaxed.

"I never would have thought he'd ever actually look peaceful. Let alone see him asleep," Fujin whispers, joining Jade near the end of the bed.

"Why is Fujin here?" You whisper softly. Fujin looks rather disgruntled by the question as Jade sighs and hangs her head.

"He was worried when he heard about what happened with Kano and you," Jade says softly as Fujin nods his head agreeing with her.

"Well as you can see, I am alive and unharmed, but the reason for that," you gesture to Quan Chi snoozing soundly with his face buried in your shoulder and hair, his arms loosely embracing your torso.

"He-What?" Fujin asked, eyebrows raised in shock, not expecting such a calm response, yet alone a casual and relaxed gesture, from the sorcerer. Jade giggles quietly with a teasing look in her eye, that had Fujin ready to sputter in confusion and question everything.

"I'll explain it to you in the morning, but for now, I think it would be best to let him sleep. I feel quite tired as well," you say as you yawn softly and rub the top of Quan Chi's tattooed head softly, gently. Fujin nods and gives Jade a soft bow, making her chuckle lightly before he vanishes into the wind once more, and Jade gets up.

"Well then, tomorrow you two should join Kotal and I for lunch before his match," Jade says with a soft smile as she leaves your room locking the door for your comfort.

Once she left you rolled Quan Chi and yourself so you were properly lying in bed, Quan Chi practically laid on top of you now deep asleep, a grumble leaving him as you moved his asleep form. You fall into a deep and calm sleep after that, not too different than sleeping beside the man you love.

...

You woke before him feeling the sun hit your eyes from the windows, the early hours before the start of the second day of the tournament. His breath ghosted across the column of your throat, his arms heavy around your waist, and the way you lay leaves him exposed to the morning's sunlight. You can't help but soak in and enjoy the warmth of Quan Chi's hug, even if it's awkward with him half lying on top of you, the fact he's drooling on your skin and mumbling incoherent phrases in his sleep tells you the chances of waking him will be slim. You've never seen him so vulnerable and innocent in your entire existence. If someone had told you in your youth that one day you would have this sorcerer in the most intimate and tender manner and not in a threatening or dark way, you wouldn't have believed the individual. The gentle and tender expression Quan Chi had, had your stomach filled to the brim with butterflies and joy, like no other being before had managed. You smile warmly at the sight and touch of Quan Chi's peaceful resting state once more, and you can feel a nice warmth fill your chest at the sight. Knowing he felt safe enough to be this vulnerable with you was such a beautiful sight and feeling. Your hand graces the back of his neck as you scrape the tattoos softly and rub your face affectionately against the top of his forehead with a small hum, Quan Chi softly humming in his sleep as he snuggles his face further into your collar and neck with a small sniff of his nose. Your thumb ghosted over his cheek as you touched him ever so delicately, wanting the affection to remain pure and beautiful.

"I'm afraid you'll have to wake up my love, you have matches to fight in today." You begin as you blow air on his ear softly. Quan Chi frowned with a whine of your name as he woke. A large breath he takes and groans slightly at the bright light that assaulted his sensitive eyes and groans at the familiar feeling of a knot in the middle of his shoulder blades.

"Good morning love," you coo softly, nuzzling his cheek as he lifts himself slowly. You take the time to stroke your thumbs on either of his temples and lean in and steal his lips as you pour all your affection into them. His groan fades as you pull back and the coldness hits him as soon as he's no longer flush and kissing you and you give him a smirk as he starts grumbling complaints at your warm lips disappearing, wanting nothing more than to snuggle with you and bury his face in the crook of your neck.

"You have matches to win today, and we are eating lunch with Kotal Kahn and Jade later," you begin, as you caress and stroke the length of his back and arms and touch his face so delicately with soft admiration. He doesn't complain much further as he understands you are right and that this would be beneficial, his brow raises in confusion; when did he agree to lunch with the Kahn and his lady? A yawn escapes his lips as his jaw stretches wide and his head tips back a touch, exposing a length of skin that he doesn't expect you to go for, you press a couple of kisses to his clavicle knowing that will wake him up. You shift yourself to a sitting position, smiling gently when he yawns your name and does his best to stop the reaction with a look of displeasure. Quan Chi stretches his stiff sleep-filled body with cracks and a sigh, a deep rumbling groan rises up within him as the muscles in his back stretch, loosen and pop with audible creaks. He mutters as his voice is filled with sleep and gravel. He clears his throat as he pops his neck with an eye roll.

"When did I agree to lunch with them?" He asks as his jaw stretches once again and he swivels his neck, cracking several times.

"When Jade and I came in late last night," you reply simply. His brow furrows and his hands grip your hips gently as he begins kneading his thumbs into your hips.

"They came by?"

"Jade and Fujin actually. They came to see if we killed each other yet," you giggle softly. "Fujin was shocked to see you completely asleep on top of me. Jade on the other hand invited us to lunch. I'm guessing Fujin will be joining us," you say as you lean into his touch. He stiffens slightly realizing he hadn't woken up to any knocks or conversations last night. The feeling of sleep fog still plaguing the back of his mind even when awake was very unlike what he to ever experienced before.

"And why did one of the Earth gods need to visit?"

"Jade explained to me he was worried because of what happened with Kano," you sigh and look into his eyes deeply, your own eyes full of appreciation. He felt strange that there were individuals who seemed genuinely worried about your safety with him. Fujin more specifically. After the fights last night Quan Chi would have bet any currency that the wind god would be furious with him for risking you getting caught in the crossfire and helping him fight against Kano.

"He's aware that you saved me and were curled up against me last night," you clarify in a light teasing tone at the end. He groans softly.

"Should I expect him to be displeased with me later?" You can't help but chuckle and lean closer.

"Do you truly care if Fujin is upset with you?" Your voice holds an amused lilt, but you can't hide the hint of seriousness you feel, trying to figure out where Quan Chi's head is and how much he wants Fujin and all those involved to stay out of his personal business.

Quan Chi rolled his eyes as the gears shifted in his brain before his mind landed on something more important, he sighed loudly. "No, I don't...why exactly are we joining all of them for lunch anyway?" He wasn't about to get jealous again, was he? No, that was not a viable option. He had to trust you, had to put that faith in you as a couple and in the love you had. But this didn't feel right, it was something he hadn't even begun to explore yet.

"It could be good for us both. This will also be good for your reputation with them. Give them a reason to see you as not a threat to Outworld or Earthrealm."

"My dear I-"

"If you plan on reminding me, once more, about your alliance with Shao Kan, Quan Chi," his face fell slightly at the slightly hostile warning in your tone. "I understand the terms of your relationship and loyalty, but these are also our lives we are talking about. In some sense of the word. Why not build up a better reputation with Fujin, Kotal, and Jade? For when Shao decides you are no longer useful to him. I'd like for there to be a plan B if Shao wants to kill you. Give you a safe spot that he can't get to; like Earthrealm."

He gazed at your beautiful face, once a stranger and then an enemy. How ironic that, from the first time, he saw your face, it changed from a rival he had encountered years prior to an ally. He realized how powerful you are and what made you formidable, but, it seems to be one of the things that makes him adore you. The way you defend yourself, the way you confront and the way your intelligence works with your emotions, you have a stronger will and willpower. You are willing to try and fix the situation no matter the cost, no matter who hates you, or you try until you either quit or they give in to you.

"Alright. We will take this chance," he says and sighs, closing his eyes.

"Thank you," you coo. You smiled wide, giving his jaw and face some tender love, but also, a solid pat in a tease before sitting up and leaving to the bath chambers to get a shower going.

...

The rest of the morning passed swiftly. As soon as you and Quan Chi emerged from your bedroom, people went abuzz with surprise. Many whispers spoke of the two of you being together and how close the two of you appeared. Some thought they might be hallucinating while others assumed you must've done something to him or he to you for the two of you to get along and act amicably. The rumor mill went wild and with Quan Chi keeping you pressed tightly to his body no one could get answers, causing rumors and speculations to flourish.

Lunch was soon approaching as he stood patiently beside you, leaning on one of the dining hall walls, arms folded casually, one leg crossed over the other, head down, and eyes closed. It was like he was a statue placed against the wall or asleep, depending on your perspective. You hear a familiar sound of wind behind you, Fujin arriving as per usual.

"Good afternoon to the both of you." His gaze and voice were directed more towards you than Quan Chi. Quan Chi cracked an eye open and nodded in Fujin's direction, getting a soft scoff in return from the wind god. You give Quan Chi a hard glance and the look of you narrowing your eyes told him you weren't pleased with this behaviour already. A slightly defeated sigh leaves the sorcerer's lungs as he stands straight, meeting Fujin's eyes properly, it makes him feel just the smallest bit uneasy, like Fujin knew what Quan Chi wanted and thought. You gently slap Quan Chi's stomach begging him to at least play nice for you.

"Good afternoon Fujin, looking forward to lunch," you say politely. Fujin notices Quan Chi stiffen and freeze at your movement and voice and finds himself raising an eyebrow, finding that unusual how you seem to have the sorcerer wrapped around your finger.

"May I ask how you managed to sleep last night?"

You giggle softly "I slept great, you should have heard how stiff his joints were this morning," you reply coyly, the only reaction from Fujin is a raised and unimpressed brow, Quan Chi gives an uncomfortable cough in reply, making you grin.

"Greetings," Kotal Kahn says sternly with a stern look to Quan Chi and a smile to you. Quan Chi looks unphased as both your eyebrows raise and you stifle another small fit of giggles at his deadpan stare. "It's good to see you doing well," he begins his tone towards Quan Chi is softer. "I appreciate your efforts to keep (Y/n) and others safe yesterday. Kano should never have been there in the first place."

"Shao Kahn's doing?" You asked with a slight nervousness as his yellow eyes landed upon you. Quan Chi's demeanour had you concerned and thinking he was angry with Kotal for some reason.

"It seems so."

You bite your lip and rub the side of Quan Chi's hand intertwining your fingers.

"Why don't we drop the Kano talk and just enjoy lunch and watch the matches today," you offer.

The Kahn nodded slowly, agreeing with you.

"Jade is waiting for us, come this way," Kotal replied.

...

The view was impressive, being able to see the whole Kollosum and the fighters down below.

Kotal Kahn and the royal suite were nothing to sneer at, the food was exquisite.

Jade gives you a wave and an excited look. "Good afternoon (Y/n)! Are you ready to enjoy the first match of the day?"

"The scenery and food are definitely going to help the event seem much better," you hum in a sarcastic but content tone. As the two of you hug in a friendly greeting.

"Glad you think so," Jade smiles and whispers, "You do not need to worry about Quan Chi's or the Kahn's moodiness," She attempts to help soothe your anxious nature.

"Men," you joke with her rolling your eyes as she giggles softly in response. The three males on the other side of the room ignore you two, with Quan Chi trying his absolute best not to be jealous and show weakness to Fujin, or to admit you were correct and he could have a positive relationship with the god of winds. And Kotal trying his best to stay calm as he knows Jade would most likely get angry or worried at his tense behaviour.

The moment Quan Chi makes the mistake of taking his eyes off Fujin his gaze instead of landing on your form talking excitedly with Jade his jealousy is released in a huff through his nose. Kotal hears and gives the sorcerer a pat on the back which sends a flinch and surprised glance his way.

"Now, now sorcerer. Best not to make a habit of letting that emotion take hold, for her sake. She's never been fond of jealous men." Kotal chuckles as he walks over towards Jade and you. Quan Chi lets out an annoyed grunt and rolls his eyes. You glance over your shoulders, motioning with a nod of your head for the sorcerer to come towards the both of you and grab some food. You move into the corner of the suite so everyone can eat comfortably and still see the stage. The noise, and bustle of the crowds, cheering as the tournament continued, and the atmosphere created was surprisingly fun, you'd found yourself relaxing, finally finding enjoyment in the events. Fujin stands near you and Quan Chi with a small smile.

"Seems everything is going better," Fujin speaks with a glance around.

"Seems that way," Quan Chi huffed slightly.

"I'm glad our champions are fairing well, Dad," it slips out of your mouth as you watch the fights. A cough comes from Kotal obviously never hearing you call Fujin that. Quan Chi just about spits out his drink with a violent snort.

"She really hasn't told you two anything, huh?" Fujin sighed as his fingertips touched his temples.

Kotal and Quan Chi both shoot him a glare before glancing towards you with different expressions.

"Fujin adopted me when I was a little kid, found me wandering into his temple one day and I just never left. He's treated like his own flesh and blood," you beam brightly. Your eyes grow soft as Fujin's hand moves to the crown of your head as he leans down and kisses it sweetly. "Fujin has raised me since then. I usually just use his name when speaking about him or with him around others, guess I got too distracted," you chuckle as an embarrassed flush hits your cheeks and the tops of your ears. Fujin hummed as he stood next to you with a look and stance of pure pride.

"Why do you think both Fujin and Raiden are so protective over me?" you glance at Kotal and Jade who nod with understanding. You smirk "That should have been the most obvious hint right there. Neither of them actually ever had plans for kids, yet they took me in with nothing but open arms and love," you coo with pure happiness in your eyes as you stand and wrap Fujin's torso in a giant hug that he returns.

"I'm honoured," the Emperor says softly "to have such a respectable god and person in my royal court." He pats your shoulder softly.

"You flatter us too much Kotal, I'm not worth the praise, I have just as many faults as the next being," Fujin says in a humble tone.

"You will take the praise, it's much deserved," Quan Chi starts suddenly. Everyone glanced at him with a mixed set of reactions. Fujin was almost entirely shocked with some hints of pride, the slight smile creeping onto his face being a dead giveaway; Quan Chi quickly cleared his throat before drinking deeply from his goblet obviously trying to play it off as too much to drink, he doesn't look at any of you. Your eyes soften, and you gently reach and grip his forearm tenderly as if to ground and assure him; Kotal nods, intrigued. "Raising her on your own, it was...not easy, I'm sure."

"Well, I had Raiden to help when I could not, along with the monks," Fujin states simply.

"Regardless, you were strong, reliable, and determined to make her comfortable, to make her happy. Even with being a protector of Earthrealm. Those things should be appreciated." Jade grins softly.

"I agree," Kotal replied. He began with a more serious tone. You chuckle as you lean against Quan Chi's shoulder while he sits.

"Kotal Kahn?" A large grunt emanates from him "Do tell me, how's that sweet wife of yours," you coo teasingly, distracting everyone from their thoughts, and catching Jade by surprise as she gets a flushed look across her cheeks. Quan Chi smirks slightly at your comment as Kotal glowers in your direction, he knows very well his mind goes elsewhere at that question. He and Jade start going back and forth about their care and love for one another. You know the question gets Jade excited to hear Kotal speak about her with such poetic words. Fujin on the other hand chuckles and shakes his head slightly.

"Quan Chi?" He says lightly and Quan Chi glances over at Fujin. "I presume that my child is safe with you and that you are behaving yourself, for their benefit, correct?"

Quan Chi huffs at Fujin and stands, going nose to nose with him "Is that a threat?" The air tenses for a long moment, with both Fujin and Quan Chi standing up to one another. You quickly squeeze between the two of them.

"Absolutely not! Cut it out, Quan Chi. You too Dad!" You chastise both men in an angry voice before continuing,

"Dad please just calm down and relax, and you Quan Chi sit and no more wine. You are way too testy right now. I will not let either of you fight about this that is final!" You basically snarl at both men as they seem to shrink at your disapproval. They both look at one another with some apprehension and also some disdain but look back at you, with love and awe. It's difficult to believe sometimes how you are so similar to both men. How do you both care enough about the people around you and in your inner circle?

"SIT," you push both of them in opposite directions gently trying to get your point across without harming anyone or overstepping. They obey quickly and quietly. Your eyes are narrowed in a strict parental stare and, without a single word spoken, it gets across to them what your intentions are.

"I just want the two of you to play nice for now even if you hate each other." you huff in exasperation as you sit on a couch on the terrace to watch the fights below. You back to everyone as you try to calm down your annoyance. Jade and Kotal both stare as Fujin and Quan Chi apologize quietly, respectively for their behaviour and look away ashamed and uncomfortable, with a twinge of some embarrassment at being scolded by you. You relax when you hear them mumbling their apologies.

"Is it really a good idea for those two to be near each other right now?" Jade speaks with a look of uncertainty on her features.

"Hmm. Hopefully, now they will not act so childish towards one another considering they are both adults, I would rather they get along than dislike each other so harshly," you say your voice raising for the two of them to hear as Kotal chuckled trying to not get scolded for laughing by you or Jade.

"Do not encourage or egg her on either," Jade grumbles at her lover as his body shakes from barely containing his laughter. You just look at Kotal with a raised brow as Jade grumbles to him. Quan Chi hesitantly walks over to the couch to sit beside you, a glass of wine in hand for you along with his own goblet of wine. You sigh, accepting the glass, looking at his face once he sits and raises his glass. The silence between you two isn't one that is strained, it's calm, contemplative. An apologetic expression hits Quan Chi's face for a moment making you break your scowl in order to speak.

"Just please be nice to my father, I know you think he's out to get you going, but he's not. He just wants to make sure I'm safe with you," you sigh softly to him as you pat his hand.

"I don't trust him," he grumbled, downing the rest of his glass before refilling it.

"I you don't but I do," you retort. He huffs out a scoff through his nose. You're not as accepting of his reply as he expected, clearly as he then gets hit in the arm. "Stop being so damn stubborn. If I trust him why can't you, do you not trust me?" You watch his body flinch hard at the question as if you stabbed him.

"Of course, I do.."

"Then put your damn pride and anger to the side, be willing to try, I'll keep him in line. Please, for me?" you place your head against his shoulder. His resolve crumbles hard with your touch.

"Fine." He puts an arm around you kissing the top of your head softly. Your pleased noise has him almost shuddering.

Fujin observes the both of you closely from afar and you just give him a half-smile and a tiny wave before wrapping yourself close to Quan Chi. He would prefer a very stern and deep conversation with his adopted daughter and Quan Chi, to make sure you two were truly getting along with the situation at hand. In all honesty, he wants to gauge if Quan Chi was controlling your mind and thus, your feelings. Quan Chi and his temper is just a piece, not the entire cake though; regardless of that fact Fujin still does not trust the man whatsoever.

You return Quan Chi's affection with a gentle kiss to the side of his nose before you return to your wine and watch the matches. Fujin just watches how quickly Quan Chi seems to melt under your touch, his harsh facade breaking quickly with the affection before he seems to pick up the shattered pieces to preserve appearances. With a sip of his drink, the wind god saunters over and takes a seat in the lounger opposite the two of you and to the side where Kotal and Jade sat. Your smile widens, while Quan Chi drapes one of his arms across your shoulders as he drinks his wine. His entire posture looks relaxed now. You can tell, you know him so well at this point, how well he is an actor. Even when it comes to acting this relaxed and in control, you know the reality that he's ready and willing to protect you and fight back. You're pressed into his side feeling his warmth as you drink and enjoy watching the matches. His hold tightens with one arm just enough for you to notice as his nose pushes into the crown of your head taking a small deep inhale to smell your scent, and to keep himself grounded. Fujin ignores Quan Chi as the two of you talk with Jade and Kotal. Fujin and you talk about your relationship while Jade and Kotal interject with questions here and there. The match continues with all of you sitting in comfort with each other talking and enjoying the day.

Quan Chi just sits there drinking as if to hide his face in the goblet. You know this embarrasses him immensely, and it's sort of cute and endearing. You make no comment on the matter or him drinking more wine while talking; if it makes him comfortable then so be it. A tiny smile spreads across your lips, which he takes a moment to acknowledge, to bask in. A quiet exhale leaves his mouth as his body presses closer to yours.

"Y/n!" Cassie, Jacqui, Kung Jin, and Takeda appear outside the Kahn's viewing area. Kotal's face twists in displeasure for a moment before smoothing his expression. You quickly stand and see the group below. You grin and wave calling out to them wishing all four of them the best of luck in their matches. Quan Chi watches the four with a wary look on his face. "The tournament has really brought out all the fighters," he says to you as he moves his gaze back to you.

"It has and I'm so proud of all four of them. They are all strong fighters in their own aspects." You beam at them as you speak to Quan Chi about your relationship with the team and Fujin as a mentor.

"You worked hard helping train them with Johnny and Liu Kang," Fujin adds as he smiles at you.

Quan Chi just watches silently listening intently, almost smirking when you bashfully look away from everyone when your dad reveals he's a lot prouder of you than he lets on, or how much you accomplished in such a short time frame. You chuckle softly before sitting back on the couch and relaxing again.

The fighting resumes as Fujin looks toward Kotal with a nod.

"Shall we spar after you finish eating Kotal, it has been a while and I would be very interested," Fujin smirked in amusement as Jade giggled next to Kotal. You watch in interest, knowing Kotal did enjoy sparing with others.

"Oh, we could use the practice, Kotal, come on. Show him we still got some spirit," Jade nudged Kotal whose eyebrows raised for a moment.

"Yes, yes you're right, perhaps I could use a battle to help clear my mind," he nods with an excited smile. You just shake your head at Jade and Kotal and just say "have fun, please don't get hurt," in an amused but worried tone, "just be careful. We still need the both of you during this ordeal,".

Kotal smiled at you "I will be just fine, and same to you as well Quan Chi,"

Quan Chi glanced towards him from his drink and huffed a farewell as he kept drinking. You can tell he's past tipsy and is probably close to drunk if not black-out drunk. You turn and see the bottle almost empty on the table. You shoot Quan Chi a pointed look to slow down and be careful. His reply was a silent glare as he finished the bottle before getting up to grab a second. You are quick to redirect him to water and something to eat. You gently nudge the plate closer to him with some food, before he could walk away to find wine. Kotal laughs and shakes his head.

"I think Quan Chi and I will just rest here for a while if that's alright," you say letting them get the hint he's had too much to drink. You don't say it outright to prevent his ego from being hurt. Kotal and Fujin take the cue from your words and go spar with Jade. Quan Chi took a seat on the large chaise longue. He keeps his eyes trained on you as he drinks the water you placed in front of him.

You chuckle, "sit. Drink your water and relax with me while we can" he obliged with a roll of his eyes, being half-pissed already.

The wine has left a warm haze over the world and his mind. With your warm body against him, his mood lifts, and his eyes stay half-lidded watching the tournament with little interest. His senses are set on you and you alone. Even as he rests against you with one arm loosely around you, you notice how he's fiddling with your shirt hem as well as parting the neckline.

"Hm,"

Your shoulder bumps his chest, and his mouth twitches into a smirk. His free hand skates up your back, following the curve of your spine under your shirt. You know he's absolutely drunk now.

"Hold off on that for now. Let's get to our room first, how does that sound hmm?" You ask, as you lean away from him and move towards the door. If you can get him to your room maybe he'll just sleep off the wine, you know you're not comfortable sleeping with him in such an inebriated state like this.

"Tease," Quan Chi slurred out as he got up shuffling and staggering slightly after you, his normal gait gone completely. He walks like a newborn deer on shaky legs, his head must be spinning. Your thoughts are confirmed with him as he rests against the wall next to the door, before attempting to leave.

"Too much to drink?"

"And you...yooouu're not even close enough tooo fuck me," his slur is exaggerated as he wobbles standing up.

"Let's get you to bed love, come on," you coo fully ignoring how he seems to have openly told you he wants you. He's too drunk to make that kind of choice right now. Not that the sentiment wouldn't please you a great deal if it was something he meant with clarity. You will definitely tease him later for it. Your hand reaches for his and, as soon as he has hold of you, he tugs you close. His nose is pressed into the side of your head as you begin leading the way towards your room.

Quan Chi follows eagerly behind you with sluggish wobbly movements and unbalanced footing, all to stay upright next to you. You can see how his pupils are dilated and how bloodshot they are as well. He keeps grinning and letting out drunken giggles at something in his head. His cheek is pushed up against yours as he struggles to walk with you and hold onto you. His nose is buried in your hair as he inhales deeply.

"We're almost there hun" you encourage him softly

He makes a pleasured growl in response to your comforting tone, his eyes are halflidded and glossy as you keep walking. His arm tightens on you just enough to make him stumble a bit as his grin grows,

"Where are we going?" Quan Chi asks drunkenly in his husky tone, as he slowly stumbles trying to walk beside you,

"To our room, dearest. To our bed," you coo, if he knew that you didn't plan to sleep with him, he'd probably put up more of a fight. He's far too drunk to be a consenting adult. You feel bad about lying and tricking him into going back to the room to get him to sleep off the wine. But in the long run, this is the best course of action. You wish there was another way to get him to your room and for him to sleep, instead of making him think that you two are about to go make love. But alas he seems quite eager and open about the idea as he all but follows your every step like a puppy. You can hear a gruff slurred groan escape him as you keep leading him along. You smile softly, thinking about the antics he must be conjuring in his drunken state.

You continue to lead him back through the hallways to the room, and you reach it. He opens the door, almost falls inside and staggers on his feet. You can't help but giggle seeing him move.

"In the bed now please," you nudge him gently as he begins to unclothe himself clumsily and wobbly, his balance is skewed and unstable as he stands trying to remove his boots.

"I'm going to the bathroom first, I'll be out in just a minute." You say and kiss his cheek before quickly moving to the ensuite bathroom locking it behind you. You can hear him grumble and fight his clothing as he takes them off in a drunken fervour, "be quick" he grumbles a lot more aggressively. He trips onto the floor with a soft thump.

"Ffuuuuck" his loud frustrated shout rings throughout the bathroom. You snicker behind the door. Eventually, you hear him get into bed. You know you are almost in the clear. You just have to wait to hear him snoring to know he's asleep.

You eventually exit the bathroom, the sight before you is priceless. Quan Chi lays asleep naked except for his underwear spread eagle on the blankets, his clothing thrown on the floor haphazardly. He's hogging the entire bed and mattress in his drunken attempt to sleep. You smile and gather his clothing up gently so as not to disturb him, even if that is a foolish endeavour. He will not move nor wake easily in his drunken slumber. You make sure that there is a filled water pitcher on the nightstand next to him for when he wakes up.

The tournament's last couple of battles were soon to conclude. While you wanted to go watch them, but you got to see Quan Chi in such an intimate and caring way, that you had no other option. This was for his benefit because he did not think things through enough and became completely intoxicated. He was going to suffer come tomorrow morning for this escapade of his.

You sat cross-legged, propped up by the mountain of pillows on the bed. You are quick to pull out one the the books you packed, opening it back up to your bookmark. As Quan Chi slept and snored softly next to you, a huge mass of pale flesh moved with every breath he drew into his lungs. He barely moved during the course of his deep sleep, his chest just barely moving, he looked dead. Even though that was a common thing to think and you have seen it enough, he just looked peacefully asleep and relaxed, comfortable. There was no tense, hard set of his jaw, no scrunched-up look on his face in deep concentration. The normally severe and intense stare or grim look is no longer marring his features. His eyes were just closed and that was the only difference in his facial structure. It's still a bit too unnerving to have someone you love as a lot as you do, just lay and look dead to you but you'll get used to it eventually, it's just a part of his charm.

Eventually, you fell asleep listening to his soft breaths and snores, your book now set back on your nightstand.

You woke the next day seeing Quan Chi still asleep but now wrapped around you like he usually does in his sleep. His hands held you tight and his body pressed against yours keeping you trapped, one leg tossed over the top of your legs, holding your calf down. He always acted like some cuddle monster when sleeping. You chuckle softly as you watch his face scrunch as the migraine from too much wine seems to be waking him up. He makes a groan in discomfort but then nuzzles his face closer.

"Ah, good morning," you say quietly,

"Mmm, good morni-" Quan Chi's lips pull apart in a wide yawn and his words die. He blinks repeatedly, a pained expression tugging down his features. One hand rubs at his eyelids,

"I feel terrible," his tone is hoarse and strained,

"I should imagine. You drank a whole bottle of wine," you retort in an amused tone.

"Yes, thank you Captain Obvious," his voice growls as his brow furrows at your remark,

"You got very, uhm, open," you say as he slowly sits up as if still disoriented and nauseous. The confusion is evident on his face as you speak. You watch how he slowly opens his eyes trying to blink the sleep and dryness out of them.

"There's water on the nightstand next to you," you gesture to the glass of water on the nightstand. Quan Chi snatches the pitcher and guzzles it, not caring. A groan leaves him as the hangover becomes apparent, the level of how miserable and sick he truly is, becoming more apparent the more he wakes up. He is hunched over rubbing at his temple trying to alleviate the headache.

"I drank a whole bottle and my memories are a blur, tell me, please" his slurred voice is slurred obviously still dealing with the alcohol in his system, "Did I do something stupid?" Quan Chi slowly opens his eyes with a low-key glare and grumpy look on his face.

"No, but you did try to get a little too intimate, but it's okay." You say as you fight a giggle while gesturing to his body.

"Okay, what does that mean," Quan Chi says as his eyebrows raise then furrow his brow even harder, if possible, to convey his displeasure with the word. "Did I kiss anyone or-"

"Look at yourself," you giggle quietly trying to not be too loud for his throbbing head's benefit.

He looks down at himself seeing how the only thing he's wearing is his underwear. A sheepish look comes across his face with a heavy blush.

"No, we didn't have sex. You were in no state to consent to that, I had to lie to you to come back to our room though. You really wanted me last night," you giggle again as he lays back down obviously having flashes from last night. You can see his blush rising up to the tips of his ears and down his neck.

"Far too drunk for me to be comfortable sleeping with you my love," you add as you kiss his cheek softly, the smell of alcohol sticks to his skin and breath.

"I'm pleased you didn't take advantage of me, that would be the height of awkward conversations," he said while hugging you tight and burying his head into the crook of your neck, his fingers trail over your arm before resting them on your abdomen. You lean into him hoping it will help alleviate his discomfort.

"Drink some more water, it will help in the long run and hopefully help lessen your current pain and suffering. There is some painkiller in my bag if you'd like one," you offer him gently. He lifts his head and looks at you before pulling you close and kissing the side of your neck where it meets the jaw. He has a glimmer in his eye, still half asleep but happy at least to feel you in his embrace.

"I'm perfectly capable of suffering the consequences for myself," Quan Chi said into the crook of your neck before moving away and facing forward. A hand absently cups one side of his face in frustration or in pain, you aren't sure which, but you hand him a glass of water and ibuprofen hoping to help the swelling at least. He seems reluctant, but he does take the pills.

"This won't leave this room," Quan Chi says. "Please don't tell others I have a low alcohol tolerance, it would be incredibly embarrassing."

"My lips are sealed, you know that," you tease as you kiss his shoulder lovingly.

Quan Chi grimaces, the dim glow of pain visible in his eyes. You offer him more water in hopes that will help relieve him.

"Did anyone see you bring me back?" he inquired before swallowing.

"No, I was able to sneak us back to the room, everyone was either watching Kotal and Fujin sparing or the Kombat matches."

"Excellent." Quan Chi nodded taking a final sip before setting it down on the table and going back to hug and hold you again,

"I haven't been this hungover in such a long time, I remember why I pace myself again," he groans in discomfort as he hides his face in your chest away from the bright sunlight.

"I'm sorry my love, that can't be comfortable." You kiss him on the forehead tenderly and comfortingly, your soft lips smooth against the hot skin. You sit and slowly stroke his cheek as you continue the comforting gesture. You feel him sigh and melt under your gentle caress. His entire body relaxes against your touch, his large hand moves up to join yours and the one on his cheek. Your hands weave together on his face. Quan Chi groans quietly in a more relaxed way.

You turn and smile softly, a teasing grin crosses your face as you meet his tired gaze,

"That is one way to shut you up."

He looked back up to meet your stare, his brows knit together and a sceptical smirk formed across his lips,

"Ha-ha."

"Let me get up and I'll shut the curtains, less light for your sensitive eyes," you offer. His glare remains trained on you and his expression changes into one of being incredibly uncomfortable, you can feel the tension that seems to be building in the room, so to alleviate it, you kiss his nose playfully, hoping that'll help him see the teasing side of your comment. His scowl remains etched on his features until he gives you the space to get out of the bed, finally cracking a small smirk before groaning once the covers are pulled off. He made a dramatic and girly yelp when the bright light hit his eyes, immediately shielding them away from the offending source.

"I'm sorry hun," you say in sympathy as you pull the curtains shut making the room darker for Quan Chi. He sighs in relief, dropping the hand that shielded his face from the blinding light and peeks through one half-lidded bloodshot eye. You move to the opposite side of the room closing the rest of the curtains in there. As you return you move back into bed, his body turning and draping across your abdomen as if you are an extra comfy pillow for him. A soft grumble escapes from his throat as he gets more comfortable, settling himself right up against your hips. His eyes are closed, as you feel him breathe.

You smile warmly as you comb over his bald head, massaging it gently to further help alleviate the remaining migraine that you know he has, knowing well by now, that even though he might not show it, he truly loves the little massages and caresses. Your heart flutters warmly as he moves his head pressing himself harder against your fingertips in an effort to ask silently for more, you chuckle warmly.

His cheeks are reddened by the constant warmness in the room.

"Well, this is definitely new," you muse, as you enjoy the closeness, the vulnerability.

He's tired, pained and too out of it, hungover as he is, that he shows vulnerability around you that is more than just being drunk and allowing his guard to lower slightly in his unconscious state. Not only has he put his well-being and sanity in your hands, trusting you to care for him and his drunken self. He is now willing to open himself to more feelings by accepting your physical touch, not just allowing but initiating it. He nuzzled his cheek into the warmth of your hand. You scratch his scalp lightly and rub a thumb across his earlobe tenderly. He sighs a lot louder now, his shoulders dropping and the tension from the day finally eases out of his muscles.

"There you go love, just relax," your soothing tone tries to lull him back to sleep. It almost seems like his body is now refusing to stay awake and rest. He seems too worn out from the day and his hangover, too weary to remain awake. You see his eyelashes flicker ever so slightly but they eventually seem to glue themselves together and stay shut, the fatigue takes over. His chest rises and falls with the slow deep steady rhythm of his breathing, your own relaxing and falling in time to match.

"You need sleep my dearest," you tell him gently.

"Nm-mmm" a gentle shake of his head no.

"Would you like a story?" you offer, in a light joking tone.

You hear him snort derisively, "No" he rumbles into you and leans more into your chest and rests there comfortably.

"But you could do with the rest,"

"I said no" the husky tone came out forcefully, yet still gentle and not threatening or angry in tone.

"I'm awake, I don't feel like talking right now," you smile at that as his eyes remain firmly shut.

"Okay, I'm sure you are," you say as you go back to soothingly rubbing his head and playing with his ears.

It was only minutes later, that a soft snoring noise escaped his nostrils, his chest rising and falling with each breath he drew into his lungs deeply.

"That's what I thought," You hum, before picking up your book that lies beside you. You watch him contently as you go back to the book, reading it one-handed, while the other plays with his head and massages it to hopefully help soothe him. He nuzzles against the soft material and soft surface and moulds to its warmth. You swear the big pale grumpy man is like a cat that acts all gruff, but then once fed and taken care of, and offered comfort. He just can't get enough of the cuddles.

"You'll learn to relax someday" you muse warmly to the now-asleep sorcerer in front of you. A long deep and soft breath leaves Quan Chi, his body is sinking deep into slumber, and the previous agitated and unsettled feeling seems to have fallen away from him as the weight of sleep finally engulfed him.

You've been reading for hours now, before feeling Quan Chi move against your thigh, you immediately put your book down and set your attention back on him. He mumbles incoherently to himself as he stirs. It's cute how his expression shifts and he pushes against you again, his nose wrinkling in discomfort and eyes still glued shut. Eventually, he yawns and blinks his bleary and still slightly unfocused and dilated eyes slowly open and gaze upon you, taking in his surroundings.

He glances around as though uncertain or confused for a few seconds and then clears his throat. You stroke his back, soothingly. He lets out another yawn, stretching languidly, the movement spreading the pale expanse of skin wide open like a bird, all bone and sharp angles. The shadows caress his form as if made just for that. Your touch causes a shiver, a slight groan leaving his lips as he shifts. His eyes lock with yours, a lazy and lop-sided smile, slowly spreading across his lips.

"Afternoon sleepy-head," your smile is warm and teasing,

He tilts his head in confusion, "Oh...It's not morning anymore," his voice is low and groggy, but sounds significantly better compared to his previously rough and cracked voice. "What happened? Did I actually fall asleep? I must've been more hungover than I first realized" a small amused huff is heard.

"I'd assume so, welcome back to the land of the living," you joke softly hoping his migraine has dissipated. He props himself up onto his elbows and kisses your cheek, smiling affectionately at you. His pupils seem dilated more than usual, showing that he's not completely recovered yet.

"Glad I'm alive and not hungover," he remarks wryly as a wide grin stretches over his mouth.

"You're more smiley and affectionate than usual," you whisper as his fingers thread in with your hair and bring his face closer, the smell of morning breath hits you, but he doesn't seem to notice as his lips lock with yours, kissing the sides of your lips and face tenderly before diving back into your mouth and letting out a content sigh. He moves and then lays next to you on the bed, his arm hooked around your waist comfortably with his chest touching your shoulder. He lies next to you comfortably before shutting his eyes and enjoying the soft and sweet kiss, allowing the room to quiet and peaceful moment between the two of you to linger, and revelling in the intimate touches and comforting silences. You chuckle at him breaking the kiss.

"Guess the nap did some good,"

He blinks owlishly several times, like a cat when catching the sunlight, not fully awake and coming back to reality yet.

"Why is that?" you watch his sleepy eyes and smile softly at his dreamlike appearance. You tap his nose affectionately. His face scrunches, giving you a wry smile with his tongue between his teeth, the crooked side of his lips tilt up at the corner.

"You seem rather touchy-feely"

A sheepish expression flickers briefly on his features and he blushes at the implication and quickly hides it by kissing you deeply, nipping your lip. When the kiss breaks you can't help but tease him,

"No biting we aren't having another issue like last time," you tease him lightly, pressing a soft kiss to his lips and laying your forehead against his in an affectionate gesture, your fingers trailing along the sensitive spots on the nape of his neck that send delightful tingles down his spine. His dark eyelashes brush against your skin.

"I can't promise no bites but none that will do damage like that again," his expression remains impassive as always but you feel a flash of pain in his words and regret.

"Hey, everything's okay." You squeeze the hand that lays on his belly tightly as you watch him. "I didn't mean to upset you, I'm sorry." He's taken aback by your statement and apology. A brow twitches upward.

"I should apologise," he retorted, his face set in its usual stern frown as his dark eyes seemed to glitter in the light and bore holes into yours, "You are far too forgiving,"

He presses his nose against your ear and breathes, sending a shiver down your spine, his hand smoothing over your face tenderly and he nuzzles into the crook of your neck breathing gently and nuzzling further, his arms slipping around you pulling you close as if seeking comfort, seeking reassurance. You feel his body tense suddenly before he pulls away and stands up quickly rushing to the bathroom. You lay on the bed as you watch him move. After a moment the sounds of him vomiting echo out of the bathroom, you frown forgetting that he's still dealing with a wine hangover.

You stand and follow him. He's holding the toilet for dear life, you place a cool wet washcloth on his forehead and hand him a cup of water, stroking his back reassuringly as you squat on the ground to check on him.

"Not a good sign," you murmur as he downs the cup and hangs on the bowl again.

"How bad was I?"

"You were touchy but didn't try anything if that's what you're wondering,"

Quan Chi's face remains neutral but his mind seems elsewhere, staring blankly at nothing, eyes vacant and dark.

"No..."

"Was that a good enough response?" He nodded dumbfounded, looking confused and worried, "You got pretty drunk last night, you seemed quite intoxicated when you openly told me to basically 'fuck you' to me. I then had to lull you to sleep,"

"I apologize" is a genuine apology from him. He has another rough violent spazm as his stomach tries to evacuate more bile.

"Well, you could be a lot more vocal," you wink playfully.

"Stop that, this isn't the time to be funny. Just rub my back again please,"

You comply and try to not make it obvious as you blush hard and suppress the giggle that wants to slip. The bareness of his chest and strong physique is simply a great sight. Especially when you can trace every line of muscle as you massage him with each tremble or tightness. He goes limp against the toilet, sweat glistening on his forehead, his neck flushed red as he pants heavily. A weak moan escapes his parted lips, he is still awake, and conscious of what he's doing and you're helping alleviate some of that stress and strain, along with that nauseous feeling of needing to vomit.

"Is there anything I can get you?"

"Please just stay here, even if it's not very attractive,"

"Nothing about this is unappealing," you answer, feeling him shudder and tense at the compliment before retching again, you rub his back again until another wave ends and he cranes his head skyward to breathe and try and fight the need to keep throwing up. You pick up a fresh and cold cloth and replace the previous one. You flush and offer another clean and cool glass of water. Your eyes study his form, the sheen of sweat glistening upon his toned skin, muscles taut under the strain of the ongoing discomfort. He gasps desperately for air as his entire frame trembles weakly and is finally finished for the moment. He is pale and looks exhausted and thoroughly worn out from the exertion.

"I'm still here, are you feeling any better?"

"I-I'm alright," his voice is faint and barely audible, but there's definitely a quiver to it that betrays his stoic mask, "This is humiliating,"

"Stop, don't get upset, I'm here to help and I wouldn't change the fact that I have you here"

He nods and huffs out a heavy sigh before sitting up to sip the water and lay his head on your shoulder.

"Just take a slow deep breath, my love, you've got to relax so it'll stop the need to dry-heave,"

He draws a shaky breath through gritted teeth as he lays a clammy and cold palm against his abdomen, "The wine gave you more than you bargained for. You overdid it like crazy last night," you coo and pet his head gently down his neck and spine hoping to relax his body a bit.

"Don't look at me, I am going to make you sick," He swallows thickly as the last of his nausea subsides enough, "The sight and smell may trigger your own gag reflex."

You take that into account and gently press your hand against his tight stomach in support.

"I haven't yet have I?" You ask as you place a warm kiss on the back of his neck.

His whole body shudders and he curls in tighter around you,

"No, you haven't" he muttered low, the tone heavy with the after-effects of the nausea. One of his hands presses against yours on his stomach, almost as if he can feel you through the taut flesh.

"Did you just want me to go away for a while so you could vomit alone?"

"Yeah, the wine is giving my digestive system a thorough workout, I've not had this bad of a hangover in ages," a dry laugh follows.

"If you drink like this again, it won't be the vomiting that'll get you," your threat is empty both of you know it. But the gasp that followed has you smirking as his skin flushes from a warm pink to a deep crimson and his cheeks stain a faint pinkish-red tinge.

"Y/n..." the low murmur vibrates in his throat, he says your name with such care and gentleness, that he doesn't finish, just sighs tiredly as the nausea seems to be leaving him slowly.

You run a finger along the expanse of his ribs and spine, sending goosebumps to erupt over his skin, his spine stiffens before the shoulders relax. It seems he had tensed his muscles from the feeling and he purred at the sensation of them being freed and unwound, relaxing under your ministrations.

"Oh my, you just had an involuntary full-body shiver,"

"Keep doing that and my back will snap," he whines against you as he lets out a blissful exhale at how relaxed his body feels,

"I can't have you snapping in half now can I?" You answer jokingly but you give him one more sweep up and down the arch of his spine before finishing. You kiss the side of his neck as you do, making him practically purr again in contentment, relaxing fully as you caress him so intimately.

You hear the audible sounds of a crackling or crunching as you sweep over his back once more and he tenses for a brief second and hisses. You put pressure on one area as his joints seem to protest loudly at this.

"Easy, just breathe," you instruct.

He takes a few deep breaths before there's a loud pop and a low growl is heard. Your fingers rest over the source of the noises, his lower spine, a lot of pressure had built up there,

"That was a good pop, I hope that feels a bit better," you purr in his ear lovingly as he sighs and tilts his head slightly upwards with eyes still shut.

"All these muscles and tensions being soothed is so rewarding,"

"Clean up a bit and come back to bed, I'll see if I can relax your back a bit more," you say softly kissing his ear as you stand up and stretch standing near him, not willing to leave him alone. He groans and picks himself up from the toilet, looking down at the contents before flushing it.

"It would've been better had I thrown up less acid," his lip curled into a sneer as he could still taste and smell his own vomit in his mouth. He stands hunched over next to you as he washes his face, brushing his teeth, and using mouthwash. You offer him your hand once he's done to lead him to bed.

"Feeling any better,"

"Actually yes," he answers, his tone confident, the firm tone present once again, indicating he's slowly getting over that terrible feeling of a hangover.

"Lay back and relax," you instruct, watching his expression change for a fraction of a second, brows raised high and cheeks pinked,

"Do what you like but please help me forget I threw up," a light dusting of pink remains on the bridge of his nose.

"I will, but lay on your stomach for me," you press as you gesture him to lay down and he hesitantly obeys your request and positions himself with his face facing sideways and his head resting on a pillow to watch you. You sit on his legs as you begin to press onto his back again feeling for tension and areas that need to 'pop' a bit.

He lays there watching as best he can as if waiting for you to break his trust now that you have him this vulnerable and unprotected.

"Where are you the tensest?"

"Shoulder blades, spine, and cervical spine" He replies automatically without any hesitation at all, you hum in response quickly moving to help relax him. You roll your knuckles down the vertebrae in his spine to the base of his back feeling them crack and the skin stretching, almost pulling back with each successive release. At the same time, your palms press into his shoulder blades, he makes an effort to not make sounds of relief as you work, but an occasional quiet sound of happiness slips out.

"Cervical spine please," he mumbles, his chin buried in the pillows, eyes already shut and heavy. You know that part can be a sensitive area, especially when you first begin to apply pressure. He tenses up briefly before letting the feeling settle in, then he sinks lower as his breathing slows and his shoulders relax under the motions and movements, and finally, after an intense moment, there's a crack or crunch that comes from his neck as everything slots back into place and the stress dissipates as you massage the tense spots.

He lets out a breathy moan of relief as his head lolls a bit to the side and a smirk graces his mouth, his cheeks flush and his breathing is still calm. "Feel good?"

"Yes," his reply is a hiss between his teeth.

You can feel a large knot between his shoulders as you press your fingertips into his neck and a shudder goes through his whole body as his teeth are clenched tightly.

"Scale of 1 to 10 how sore is that?"

"Two," his voice is terse with discomfort, it makes his answer almost a growl, You can tell he's lying and press more firmly with several fingers.

"Then it shouldn't hurt when I use both of my hands on it roughly," you say as you begin to place both hands under his shoulders. He flinches violently, drawing a ragged breath, and letting out a strangled cry that would've been a scream. His arms tensed before curling in closer to him. It's clear he's fighting the urge to writhe or shake your hands off as you move deeper.

"That's what I thought, what is it really at Quan Chi?"

"Infinity," his voice comes out forced, you smile to yourself at him trying so desperately to not show weakness by letting his true feelings slip. You chuckle and begin to ease off the spot. You work much softer and gentler. His face contorted slightly at the pressure being applied, his jaw clamped hard and you could swear you hear his teeth grinding together, you also see his hands clutching the blanket under him with a vice-like grip. You begin to lean towards his ear to whisper comfortingly. He lets out an audible, loud swallow and his fingers dig further into the fabric beneath him,

"Easy, Breathe," you pause and speak calmly into his ear, your hot breath on the skin causing his breathing to become ragged. The actions that normally caused him to squirm uncomfortably now evoke an even bigger response. His eyes snapped shut his jaw went slack as his breathy exhales were loud and hoarse. The feel of his pulse throbbing hard under the skin of his throat. He trembles, his eyes wild as he fights the feeling. His features twist with it, his brow knitting, and a hint of a grimace forming. You pull away giving him a moment to relax again, this spot must really bother him.

"Quan Chi?" you say as you squeeze his arm reassuringly and he nods for you to continue.

"Don't worry this shouldn't hurt too bad," you place both hands on either side of the large knot between his shoulder blades and push your thumbs against his back softly. His breathing remains controlled for the first few seconds then he moans deeply with each exhalation.

"Easy," you breathe softly in his ear and repeat your actions again putting a little bit more pressure as you use the pads of your thumbs. He opens his mouth and a long drawn and muffled whine seeps out, his entire body trembles under your touch, "Try to not be stiff and just try to focus on my hands okay?" You say in a soft and soothing voice, tracing the lines and knots to coax his body to relax.

He squirms as you keep pressing, letting your knuckles sink and twist over the edges and knots, earning from him the occasional groan or breathy curse. He still isn't used to the odd, although not unwelcome, attention, and you watch as his muscles clench and then relax one after another, slowly he relaxes, and you keep up with the pattern. Your gentle treatment seems to be the thing to melt him, slowly and surely his body loosened and his tense form eased, relaxing even more at your ministrations. As you go lower to the centre of his back you press on his spinal columns individually making each one crack and pop back into place as he breathes and just melts further into the bed.

"See how much easier it is when you relax instead of trying to fight me," your words come out just above a breath as his entire body relaxes even more.

"Y-yes," He agrees as he settles fully, taking slow, easy breaths to relax and calm. Your fingers press lower and deeper on his lower back working on the tense and knotted muscle, "Hah... yeah that,"

"How much better does that make it feel now?" you tease pressing his body close.

His only answer is another happy moan, and his body becomes pliant to your touches. Your hands go along his thighs and down to his calves as you focus on releasing more pressure knots on his muscles, sinking more heavily into the mattress, groaning, panting and looking at you through the corner of his eye. You begin to massage your way back up his body from his calves. His thighs tremble, as your hands slowly close and squeeze the muscles, running them up the inside, over the tight ass that's shaking with strain under each strong and smooth stroke, and over his hips and up the sides, pressing deep and soothing the painful pressure knots. He hisses, body tense yet melting at the same time and shivering, and then you move away. His body practically arched off the bed and a low, relieved moan rips from his throat as you give the length of his spine a single caress from head to tailbone.

"I'm sure that felt good. Was the pain and ache that bad in your lower back?"

"It's been killing me, thank you" His tone is content, relaxed, and nearly spent. You can tell he's happy by the lazy, lust-filled daze, and you can see the thin coat of sweat forming over his skin.

"I'm glad I could help you in your time of need dear," you reply gently caressing the sides of his torso.

His frame shuddered as his breathing had now reached a state where it had steadied, was deep and measured, his ribs expanding as his lungs drew in oxygen and expelled it in a calm, relaxed, and even fashion. A sense of accomplishment washed over you when it's clear it is doing the job it's meant to do.

"My neck feels much lighter now," his eyes are still closed as the last word is breathed out, and his voice is even heavier than before, the most tired and satisfied of all, making a shiver run down your spine.

"Do you think I can work my magic on your mind as well?" You say in an inviting and almost sensual tone. You are kneeling up beside him, admiring your work, but not finished with your treatment.

"Possibly," the dry and almost disinterested answer doesn't hold the same contempt as usual and you have a good idea of the state of mind he's in.

You sit beside him and draw his head on your lap, your other hand traces his tattoos kneading into the flesh of his bald skull. He inhales deeply, a smile curling the corners of his mouth, he almost looks a bit lost, the face of pure serenity and his mind finally becoming quiet, his whole demeanour calm.

"How's your headache and nausea?"

"No headache and I'm not nauseous, thanks to you"

You kiss his forehead affectionately, "I'm glad to have been able to help."

He holds the position, sighing softly as he lets himself relax fully under your touch. It isn't long before his body has relaxed fully. "Ah, Y/n... your presence, your very touch is intoxicating. No amount of wine could ever replicate this feeling."

"Mhmm, I hope you keep the sensation for a long time my dear."

His head shifted and turned slightly upwards as his gaze met yours. His eyes held a curious yet pleasantly surprised look about them. "This is such a relaxing moment," His voice is deep and his tone warm.

"You enjoy being taken care of Quan Chi, admit it. I enjoyed caring for you," you tease petting his scalp and giving his chest a playful poke with a finger, your free hand massages the tightness that seems to persist in the crook of his neck.

He remains silent on the matter, a deep content smile across his features as you caress him as though he is a small child who is absolutely and positively in a blissful state of pure happiness.

"So stubborn, the silence makes me want to bring it to an end."

"And how are you going to accomplish that?" His mouth slowly opens, revealing a grin that is infectious. His eyes are not as stern or cold as they were the last time they met with yours, they were almost smouldering, dark, and seductive.

"You like this, and don't lie to yourself about it," his head rises up and he gets onto his hands and knees in front of you as the dark pools of his eyes lock on yours. You close the space, kissing his nose gently and move to get out of bed for the day. A firm hand grasping your wrist pulls you back, a firm torso meets your back as an embrace wraps around your abdomen, hands placing themselves on the middle of it, pressing in so that he holds you close and in place. "Aren't you forgetting something, my love," the name caused his voice to sound different, it wasn't the same commanding and dominant sound he had always had. It's more loving, and you feel your stomach flip in pleasure at this new sensation from him.

"I don't know, I'm quite forgetful why don't you tell me," you respond shrugging to emphasise your words.

"A thank you is in order," He looks almost disappointed in your lack of observation and seems to take his hands off you as if to give you the choice of whether or not to leave or stay, You just look up at him waiting got him to tell you what cryptic idea he has. "For every ministration you bestowed upon my weary and aching body, I am indebted and thankful," his lips grace against your neck for the briefest moment. You feel his hands caressing your skin softly as if trying to mimic what yours did for him.

You make an attempt to break out of the embrace with a mocking snicker, but his grip only tightens as he leans forward, almost growling.

"Will you please accept a reward for such devotion? Such hard work should not be overlooked, in fact, I'm in complete disbelief that you would care so selflessly for another. Why do you pay so much care to a broken, unhinged, and forgotten soul such as me?" You giggle before you answer him,

"Because I love you, and you deserve my kindness. Every time I give you my love and affection, I don't expect anything back. I hope you know that, Quan Chi." He makes a sound and his grip falters only briefly, but not entirely, you hear a deep and laboured sigh in your ear, it's as if you could feel his eyes softening, if that is even possible for a man like him. His strong, cold exterior has become something much more akin to a soft blanket covering you when you are the most vulnerable and need tender affection and comfort.

He lifts your chin to look at him, his face shows something of what looks like pure and sincere love, something you thought he had little to none.

"I..." he's lost his composure, as his tone has wavered, and he seems to struggle with something within his own mind.

"Speechless? Now I'm impressed"

"You..." He looks torn as if something is fighting him over control and the mask is beginning to slip, and a sudden vulnerability is showing itself. He looks terrified yet not for himself but rather what the ramifications may be and he wants to protect you, yet he hasn't said this directly. You turn in his hold to be sitting sideways, your neck thanks you for not making it crane up to look at his face behind you. You raise a palm to cup his cheek with the utmost gentleness and place your other hand atop his on your abdomen. The feeling is pleasant and causes you both to become absorbed in the other, basking in the presence of the other. You close the space, lips barely ghosting his.

"Quan Chi," you say the name almost like a prayer. His breath fans the very surface of your skin.

"Would you truly care about such a creature as I am?" he asks as he is transfixed by you, and he is seemingly waiting for some signal or hint of deception and anger. It is almost like he is afraid and it tears at his mind.

"Of course Quan, how can I not care about you? Just because you are different and unique in the most mysterious and sometimes infuriating ways possible doesn't mean you deserve any less love than a typical person."

His breath hitches in his throat, and his hands become shaky as the stress is released with each breath he takes. You kiss his forehead, resting yours upon his.

"Ah, perhaps your foolishly open mind is not such a flaw,"

"As opposed to your closed one?" You just lightly with a smirk,

His cheeks become flushed a vibrant red hue and you swear you could see the barest hint of a real smile start to spread. You cup his face, thumb tracing along his high and sharp cheekbones, and lean up for a chaste, featherlight, soft and passionate kiss. His entire body leans into yours, lips parting briefly to gasp then firmly press against yours, one hand cradles the back of your head while his other holds you close to him, fingertips lightly grazing along your back in soothing motions.

"Thank you, thank you..." He keeps repeating it, you feel him wrap his arms around your waist, holding your chest against his in an odd hug-like thing,

"Shhhhh," your palms come up to grasp the back of his head. You lightly massage his scalp to keep him quiet.

"But...why? How could you..."

"Because I trust you. I know you're a complicated and damaged being, but I can't stand to see you hurt and upset."

He presses himself to your body even further, keeping his face close to the crook of your neck, the closeness being intoxicating and dizzying to the mind. His mouth parts against your neck, placing kiss after kiss as if trying to express what you mean to him. You're flattered by his gesture. It is not one you expect.

"Have you not listened to a word I have ever said? Trust will be your undoing. Those foolish thoughts in your head will bring nothing but pain. They never bring happiness. Always and forever there will be suffering," Quan Chi was muttering against your neck in between the kisses.

"And yet they haven't, they have led me to you, and you to me, I'd like to think that in some way our destines are interwoven," you rest your hand at the nape of his neck, scratching the scalp and playfully pinching the nape between your nails.

"Hmfp," He mumbles against your neck, face burrowing deeper in a flush.

"Don't be a sour puss Quan," You nudge his shoulder.

He looks at you and, for a few moments, he appears lost for words. "Well, they are fortunate ones, perhaps."

"Come on, let's get up for the day, you're still in nothing but your underwear," you giggle as you kiss his cheek happily.

"Am I now? It had completely escaped my notice," sarcasm practically oozing from every syllable.

You stand and he moves closer to the edge of the mattress sitting up with an unhappy look.

"I know you'd like to keep me in your arms, in bed for the rest of eternity, but I know Fujin will come looking for me. I don't think either of us would like him to see you in such a state of undress," you say, mocking an overly sweet tone watching how a look of displeasure crosses his mind at the idea.

"Perhaps another time?" He tries, the look in his eye pleading. You hadn't noticed before but now, as his attention was completely focused on you, you saw a lightness and peacefulness to him, something you couldn't quite explain.

"Another time, we'll just lounge around in bed all day, I promise."

With a brief flicker of a genuine smile, he cups your face bringing you back to him again and you press a gentle and slow kiss to his forehead, He whispers in your ear,

"I would very much like that,"

Your face breaks out in a toothy grin as you pull away to kiss his lips gently, his hands holding your cheeks and cupping them. You stroke the side of his skull in response.

"Soon then, I shall give you what you desire. That which you so obviously crave, my love," he's wearing a dreamy look as his voice becomes even more intense and smooth, an effect your tender actions have caused. You grab his pants and toss them at him which he catches easily with a laugh and puts them on while standing up to put on the rest of his things.

After getting dressed, he saunters towards you in slow and calm motions and sweeps you up into his arms, looking at you and speaking softly,

"You truly are something else, I can't help but want and desire every inch of your being," the compliment is taken gratefully and you kiss his head again.

"My desire for you is just as potent dear,"

He chuckles quietly, wrapping his arms around you and pressing himself closer, "No truer words have ever been uttered."

...

You sat watching the final matches with Fujin next to you and the rest of Earthrealm's champions watching with bated breath as Kotal Kahn and Shao Kahn fought viciously against one another. Quan Chi was at your side as he sat with his legs crossed, and as you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, you thought he was completely engrossed in the final match until your fingers glid over his rough knuckles, which twitched in surprise at the intimate gesture, however, his posture did not change but the look in his eyes gave his reaction away to your simple touch. When you retract the contact, the slight tilt of the corners of his lips into the briefest smile and his hand is turning and catching your own in his.

"Dare you, to try to take it back," his whisper is gruff, and the slight curl of his fingers around your hand is enough to convince you not to pull it back, knowing full well what his reaction to being taunted and toyed with would be.

"I would think twice about that unless you wish to experience a most unpleasant night of unrest, my dear,"

"Oh, what would happen to me, a big, powerful necromancer to such a helpless and delicate thing like me?" You're playing with fire and you know it, in the corner of your eye you see Fujin move and can hear Raiden approaching. You snatch your hand from Quan Chi quickly sending him a look as an apology before mouthing 'Raiden's here' to him and Fujin shifts away, pretending to have fallen asleep to not deal with his brother. Quan Chi's look at you as Raiden approached held the intensity and boldness of an animal before an impending fight. It is not an appealing sight. His teeth bared a bit in an almost menacing snarl, jaw set tight and muscles tense, his eyes burning holes into you while a frown formed over his lips as if trying to communicate to you, what exactly, you do not know but the reaction from Raiden is worth it,

"Quan Chi? What business do you have here? Or were you simply waiting for the others to be busy to try and kidnap her again? My patience for you is thin. Why is Y/n sitting with you? Come here now and leave with me." He gives an almost incredulous stare to the two of you which grows colder by the second as if Quan Chi was doing something obscenely immoral.

"I'm okay," you squeak out as Fujin pretends to wake up knowing that this might go badly.

Quan Chi glares at the thunder god in an attempt to ward him off, but it only causes Raiden to bristle at the display before taking you by your arm roughly to rip you from the necromancer's side and lead you away to safety.

"Ow, Raiden let go your hurting me," you whine in his hold as he turns you to face him and fixes you with his hardened expression.

"It is far better if you stay with someone who can keep you safe," Raiden scoffs as he addresses Quan Chi, his blue eyes sparkling and fiery as he speaks.

"Quan Chi isn't going to hurt me! Besides Fujin is right next to me! Now let go!"

"Do not speak to me as though I do not have any foresight, Y/n" Raiden's fingers dig deeper in your forearm. It hurts, you can already feel it bruise as you shake him off and snatch your arm away.

"Please, why can't we talk?" Fujin interjects with a warm look and soft tone in a bid to keep everyone calm and out of danger. "You have never given Y/N a reason to not listen, and if they want to listen, they shall."

The air around Raiden charges with static, the ground rumbling with tremors,

"Listen to yourself!" Raiden yells and tries to shake his brother to reality, "I cannot have anyone's safety compromised because of some naive beliefs,"

"She isn't some fool Raiden! She isn't a little girl anymore to be kept away or hidden from everyone." Fujin raises his voice to his older sibling, face hardening. "If I trusted her then perhaps you should too." You can see the welt and bruising from Raiden's grip, it has small lines that look as if you were struck by his lightning, it stings each time he moves or tightens his grip. You wince in pain, seeing Quan Chi eye the discolouring bruise, the burning heat behind his gaze and his expression makes you shiver.

"Raiden, he's my boyfriend, not our enemy!" You hiss out in pain, Fujin's face was growing colder.

"Your WHAT??!" He bellows, eyes locking onto the pair of you. His hold loosened enough for you to rip your bruised arm away from his painful grip. Quan Chi and Fujin are quick to pull you further from the enraged thunder god.

"We will speak of this back home after the tournament," Raiden hissed in a violent tone through his teeth before disappearing in a bolt of lightning. Your arm throbs as the bruise comes more to the surface, lines that look like electricity seem to spread from the bruise. Raiden wasn't careful of his powers and it seems to have caused you actual pain. Fujin brings you in for a gentle and quick hug to check you over to see the discolouration on the arm.

"Please let me see," his voice has softened to be soothing and calm. As he reaches to touch the welt his movements are cautious and his white eyes flash at the feeling under his fingertip, they close for a moment. "I'm so sorry, he knows better than to do this to you," Fujin's voice is disappointed and sorrowful. Quan Chi holds you close to him as he watches Fujin like a hawk. Your eyes trail back to the fight watching Kotal and Shao bloody and bruised from their ongoing fight, they have gone silent as it had intensified. They seem to be equals for a moment or two before Shao falls to his knees from exhaustion. Kotal hits him hard with a flurry of rage-filled hits wanting the man to crumble before him, keeping him in his tiny dominion of Outworld, letting the monster leave and lick his wounds.

The roar of the crowd silences. A quick and swift knockout leaves Kotal victorious, you grin watching as Kotal breathes heavily as he regains himself and looks around the arena. His eyes are red.

Shao is unresponsive. His minions and soldiers look downcast. You wonder if they might have been expecting his reign to continue indefinitely. You cannot feel anything but pride for the Outworld Kahn, he had done Earthrealm a great favour, and one of the hardest battles was won.

...

You stand next to Fujin and Quan Chi, anxious to talk with Raiden about your relationship with Quan Chi. Your skin feels clammy at the idea, knowing that this can and more than likely will go horribly. As if Quan Chi could see your apprehension he places a comforting hand on your arm and a simple, chaste, and yet tender kiss to the forehead, you sigh in contentment, relaxing into the act. The bruise that Raiden gave you looks so angry against your skin, you hope it will show him that his anger has dangerous consequences if turned towards someone again. Fujin gives you a pitying look before focusing his attention back on his brother Raiden who walks out of the temple to stand before the three of you.

"Speak" His voice is booming and all of your tension returns.

"Quan Chi and I are dating...A couple, and I-"

"Do you really believe he loves you and isn't just using you to manipulate us?" Raiden was interjecting to the point where he completely cuts you off, Quan Chi frowns at the sight of you becoming so tongue-tied and nervous; scared even.

"I love them, you don't have to like it or our relationship, but you must acknowledge it and give them a chance, Raiden," Quan Chi growls low in his throat, the hand touching your arm protectively moving up to hold your back gently.

"How could you not want me to see the good in him? You have always wanted me to see the good in everyo-"

"He is the exception to such rules Y/N," he cuts you off with a pointed and heated glare and his hand goes up. He interrupts as he does often when frustrated. His eyes snap up to Fujin's, "They're a fool,"

"They are happy, when was the last time you saw their smile match their eyes?" Fujin challenges in a hushed whisper, "It is not worth harming them in anger, not again." Fujin hissed as he gestured to your bruised arm. It had stopped hurting, but it still looked like you had lightning strike it and run up your arm. Raiden stares at the bruise and falters when he sees your discoloured skin, you look to Quan Chi who holds you closer as if feeling your discomfort, he kisses your temple as if to offer some amount of comfort.

"I...damaged them."

"Yes you did Raiden," you sigh as you pull away from Quan Chi briefly, his fingertips brushing your hands, looking for something to take to ease his tension. You don't know whether it's best to give him your hands or not, but as he sighs as your hand stays in his. His eyes have grown misty, a clear sign that he needs your company and his mouth forms a thin line as he searches for anything else to look at but Raiden, who still stares at you with a guilt-ridden look,

"Look at me Raiden, not my appearance but ME, the person I've become. I am happy and safe with Quan Chi, he isn't manipulating me or my thoughts, in fact, he protected me from Kano at the tournament. You weren't there to protect me, he did,"

Raiden pauses and gives a questioning look to Fujin who nods, he pauses and steps towards you, looking down at your arm, then back at how Quan Chi holds your hand rubbing soothing shapes into it.

"He did, did he?" He turns to Quan Chi whose demeanour becomes hard and defensive.

"I did." Quan Chi hisses back, and a protective arm holds you closer to him. "I stepped in when that cretin started grabbing her," the sound of a voice full of conviction and protection sounds strange coming from him. The sound makes you shiver. Fujin can see his brother's conflict between you and his once-sworn enemy, before either of you can comment, Fujin steps between the two of you with a kind and gentle smile.

"Brother, I even trust their safety with him. Quan Chi did her no harm in protecting her from that disgusting pervert."

"So you both have more faith in my enemy than I do," his words sting as his electric eyes turn and seem to flash in your direction. The slight threat of punishment for ignoring his rules weighs heavily. But you move slightly in a way that the bruise comes back into view making his expression soften. He steps back and regards the two of you, standing and still not removing yourself from the protective presence.

"For now, they may be happy," he mutters and glares at Quan Chi before he stares back down at the bruise, "Y/N, forgive me." It is spoken quietly. He brings the palm of his hand to your injury, the soft light of his healing light glows as it passes through your body, the light washing over the discoloured skin. His hand touches it slowly to assess the damage. It vanishes slowly. You're speechless when you see it vanish and touch the spot where it once was, all the damage was repaired and you were left untouched again.

"I do not wish to see you unhappy, while it pains me to see you with our sworn enemy-"

"I can handle him just fine. Fujin has watched me put him in his place more than once," you cut him off in a stern tone as Quan Chi watched you carefully. He smiled ever-so-slightly at you and a noise akin to a laugh sounded from his throat.

Raiden watches the two of you incredulously, brows furrowed at the statement.

"You don't have to approve of my relationship, but I want you to trust me and my judgement, Raiden."

Quan Chi pulls you into an embrace and sighs, the stress of the conversation and of your interaction was enough to cause him some form of worry or unease. Though you think the scene wasn't exactly pleasant for him either and seeing Raiden heal you was a much nicer alternative to spending another sleepless and tense night away from him. The anger Raiden once wore began to subside into reluctant acceptance with the knowledge that Quan Chi cared for you, or at least held a very similar mindset that you did and his insatiable desire to be yours in return, an offer you could not easily refuse. Fujin watched his brother's internal struggle and moved close to his side to whisper reassurances to him.

Raiden seemed to cave in a sense as if sensing your concern for the well-being of those involved. "If this is what you wish...it shall be so, though the actions will still take some getting used to..."

He closed his eyes before whispering,

"...and Y/n..." you nodded in recognition and listened as he spoke, "I must do you the justice of believing you'll do what's right, do not get tangled in things you aren't meant to be, not even for love or hate."

He turns away with his eyes closed, slowly returning to the temple and with a final look, he is gone. Fujin speaks,

"Well, that was surprisingly better than I expected him to react...it is a step in the right direction regardless...that is all that matters," Fujin smiled before walking into the temple waiting for the two of you to come inside.

Quan Chi kept a hold of your hands as you led him. He had pulled away from you for a brief moment, seemingly searching for something or trying to focus on something else rather than being too close.

"We'll go to my room, you and Raiden won't interact I promise." You tell him, looking back and locking gazes with Fujin who moves his arms to point forward. Your fingers lacing with Quan Chi's slowly and with a slow, subtle movement of your own, pulling him forward.

He follows you reluctantly into your bedroom, the door closing behind the two of you. It feels so familiar to have him in here again. Your eyes lock onto each of the gifts he gave you. He hadn't taken back any of it, they are still there, left exactly as they had been. As he turns to face the direction you face his face grows warm when he notices. You see his breath hitch at the sight of him realizing they're still there, he stays silent for a long while as you watch his eyes move from gift to gift. His eyes linger on the letters on your desk as if remembering writing each letter. His attention finally snaps back to you as if finally registering what was said and done. You smile as you walk up to him and press a kiss to his lips. You move past him quickly sitting on your bed as he moves to join you, pressing a gentle and chaste kiss to your forehead as he relaxes onto your bed. You feel as though you and your heart had found some strange piece that you hadn't noticed was lost. You smile when his thumb strokes the back of your hand, his face etched with something of adoration and calm, his face tilting up so his gaze can land on your expression. His dark eyes glinting mischievously. His mouth widens, "Well...this is surprising," He whispers in a hushed breath against the crook of your neck. You suppress the shivers that crawl down your spine and press another soft kiss to his temple.

"Surprising how?"

"All these gifts...you never threw them out?" The question is a whisper in your ear as his head burrows into your collar, you can see the start of a smile on his lips. Your answer is breathy and small in a murmur.

"...why would I...?"

He seems to think on this a few moments more before sighing and holding you in his arms. The only noise besides breathing and the beating of hearts can be the pattering of the rain falling on the window. The day is far from finished, yet it feels that all time stands still for this moment. His breath is a calming wave over you as you see his dark eyes close in sleep, as the minutes crawl by. His arm loosens his grip but stays holding you close to him. You take his other hand as it releases and allow the fingers to weave with yours before moving up to his lips to graze the surface of the skin, watching it for any changes as if wondering how anyone could be so delicate, yet brutal. His kiss was gentle. Everything was a blissful tranquillity. And as the peace washes over you, and Quan Chi, for the first time, you think perhaps everything is going to be okay. Your eyes close. His breathing was a gentle reminder. The rain tapping softly outside was the perfect backdrop for a well-needed cuddly nap.

...

If you haven't read part one you can find it here!

[vickyvicarious]

Jonathan's voice is SO strained and shaky and horrified at the start of today! I do love how you can hear the accuracy of "I turn to my diary for repose. The habit of entering accurately must help to soothe me." -Because while certainly not at all times throughout the entry, it really does seem to help calm him down and order his thoughts.

Love the little rebellion in his voice at: "The Count's warning came into my mind, but I took a pleasure in disobeying it." Good for you, Jonathan! I mean. I mean it doesn't turn out good at all but you know what I mean.

Once again his voice getting all airy and almost sing-song as he talks about the ladies in his imagination, it's so sweet - but this time the music is a kind of creepy tinging lullaby like in a horror movie, making that same sweetness feel almost sickly ominous. And the little laughs and sounds of the ladies moving around were SO DAMN CREEPY, I absolutely loved it. Sent shivers up my spine, only increasing as the music got louder/we got further into the scene. I cannot recommend enough listening on headphones to get the full surround-sound, because them giggling and circling around me was SO spooky and SO good.

I love everything to do with the ladies. The way their voices are a little bit extra echoey and almost sound a little layered and unreal.... The sound of her breath. I can't describe the laughs enough. All of it. I could feel the exact same horrible yet pleasurable building anticipation as Jonathan throughout that whole passage, it's so so well done.

Contrast how deep and powerful the music gets when Dracula arrive. It at some moments reminds me of a beating heart, getting faster. And their lighter more tinkling music is almost immediately driven out by the power of his entrance. When they laugh at him it comes back, but only for a moment. The way Dracula says, "I too can love." The whisper of his voice on his promise to share Jonathan later. GOD, it's all so good.

Not to mention the fuckin BABY SOUNDS, absolutely horrifying.

...but despite all the horror, Jonathan does sound so much steadier at the end than at the start. Again, I love so much the way that you can hear the process of writing this out steadying him. It's vitally important not only for gathering evidence to confirm his sanity, but also to in-the-moment calm him down at least a little.

[thesightstoshowyou]

Prey Animal

Lich Lawrence x GN Reader

Warnings: I don’t even know, man. This one is weird. Supernatural elements, vaguely nsfw, descriptions of gore? Body horror, maybe? A nod to BTD 2. And also Mason is there.

~~~

The touch of the creature in the black water is…hard to describe. Sharp finger bones carve divots in your flesh where it brushes your face, but there’s no pain. There is only a chill and the dripping of blood. Feels like rain, maybe.

Hunter’s prey, it calls you.

You have nothing to call it, so you avoid using a name, only speaking when it’s looking at you.

And it is always looking.

Sometimes, when you’re on the edge of sleep and just about to fall, it comes to you. It always sounds like it’s wading though a knee deep stream whenever it moves, even on dry ground.

It reaches for you, touches you, puts its hand on your chest and all the air leaves your lungs when you feel its bony fingers sink below your flesh.

The creature reaches under your ribs, sinew parting like waves for its grasping claws until it holds your heart in its palm. You feel the muscle pumping frantically, pulsing against frigid bone and you want to scream but there’s no air, no blood, just the rushing of water.

Then you feel it deeper, lower, something throbbing in your core until your eyelids flutter and you let out a choked sound that might be a moan in another life. Are you drowning? Climaxing? Are you horrified? Comforted? Lost?

Home?

Still, silver water on the edges of your vision….

Like breaking through the surface of the ocean, you gasp, stumbling back and crashing into the trunk of a towering poplar. Your knees knock together, barely supporting you as rake your fingers down your chest. You find your skin intact, whole. You’re unhurt, the only evidence of what just transpired an achy warmth between your thighs.

“I felt you….” You whisper to the creature, your wild eyes roving over its skeletal frame. You push your palm to your chest.

“You felt life and death, the spaces in between the bones. Which will chose you, I wonder?”

The choice was never yours, then. Somehow, that thought is comforting. The decisions you made would have always led you here.

You lift your head to ask another question, but find the creature staring intently to the left. You follow its line of sight and your eyes meet wide and terrified green.

Mason.

He stands a few yards away, crossbow clutched in a trembling hand and hanging, useless, at his side. His gaze flicks between you and the creature. You can see the confusion, the fear, the disbelief all clearly etched in his features.

He can see it too.

Mason doesn’t say a word, instead turning on his heel and scrambling through the heavy brush, back the way he came. He flees like a prey animal, away from that which he does not understand.

He flees, but you stay.

When you turn to the creature again, it is already watching you. Assessing, perhaps. It dips its head, just slightly, like a nod. When it speaks, you hear its voice all around you, the rustling of leaves in the forest, the trickling of a stream:

“Prey no more.”

[suzannahnatters]

Flash Fic: Final Transmission

<CAPITAN MERCHANT VESSEL FARSEEKER - COMMS STATION FINAL TRANSMISSION SENT 49/13/2839 16:33>

FARSEEKER: Farseeker to the Lion's Throat. This is Captain Ardent Carta speaking. Do you read me? Over.

[NO RESPONSE]

[DISTANT YELLING. SOUND OF BLOWS - APPARENTLY, THE COMMS STATION BLAST DOOR WAS BEING RAMMED WITH A HEAVY OBJECT]

FARSEEKER: Lion’s Throat, this is Farseeker! I have an emergency! Do you read? Over.

[NO RESPONSE]

FARSEEKER: Read me, ***** it! I know you're there. You spoke to Phillix. Right before he vented himself out the airlock. Then you spoke to Bround. He took an axe to the mess hall. [LAUGHTER] Mess hall. That amused you, did it? You even spoke through one of the cargo, right when the killing started. “You’ve all sinned, reckoning is here.” You're a judgemental blighter as well as a sick one, aren't you? Well, [SARCASM] forgive me, Father.

[NO RESPONSE]

FARSEEKER: I can't believe I'm trying to radio a wormhole.

[HIGH PITCHED WHINING - OUR SPECIALIST’S OPINION IS THAT A LASER CUTTER WAS NOW TAKEN TO THE BLAST DOOR]

FARSEEKER: **** !

FARSEEKER: Look, whatever you are out there—I gather there's some sort of taboo on this wormhole. The Namardian locals said not to intrude—"Death awaits those impious ones who venture into the Lion's Throat", all very ominous and superstitious—but they've barely discovered heavier-than-air, let alone faster-than-light. We're not trying to make trouble. We’re just sentience merchants, trying to get our cargo home to Capita Six. The portal we came by won’t open again for two months and in the meanwhile the cargo is bound to degrade. Over.

[NO RESPONSE]

[A CLANG - EVIDENTLY PART OF THE BLAST DOOR FALLING AWAY]

[LASER CUTTER POWERING DOWN]

[MOMENTARY SILENCE]

FARSEEKER [FORMER CREW]: Let me...in, Captain. You must…pay, just like…the rest of us.

FARSEEKER [CAPTAIN, HURRIEDLY]: There are no Capitan records of this wormhole, but once I'm through I guarantee there will be. No ship of ours will ever disturb you again. Over.

[NO RESPONSE]

[LASER CUTTER POWERING ON AGAIN]

FARSEEKER [LOUDER]: Come on, think this through! You need to leave someone alive! You need me alive!

[SOUND OF DOOR FALLING OPEN]

FARSEEKER: For heaven's sake, answer me! How was I to know?

[LASER CUTTER APPROACHING]

FARSEEKER [SCREAMING]: What about the cargo? I have five hundred sentient Namardians in my hold. Aren't they your worshippers? Won't you have mercy on them—?

[THREE SHOTS IN QUICK SUCCESSION]

[SCREAMING]

[SEVERAL DISTINCT THUDS - REGRETTABLY, CAPTAIN CARTA APPEARS TO HAVE BEEN DISMEMBERED]

[SILENCE]

[SO I NEED TO DESCRIBE THE VOICE. THE VOICE IS LIKE STONE. THE VOICE IS LIKE LABYRINTHS. THE VOICE IS LIKE RUINED CITIES FALLING FROM THE SKY. IT SPEAKS ONLY WHEN SILENCE FALLS]

LION'S THROAT: But I do have mercy on them.

<END TRANSMISSION>

-----

I wrote this flash fic for the Pilgrim Artists' Festival, a small Christian festival of art, music, and words which runs every year in Tasmania's Huon Valley. The theme for the 2022 festival was "Justice and Mercy", and since I've always been fascinated by the way that the Bible often presents the divine as horrifying, especially in the aspect of justice, this was yet another of my regular unsuccessful attempts to write a cosmic horror story about divine justice; this one with a space-opera flavour.

Until 2 September, the 2023 Pilgrim Artists' Festival is open for submissions of fiction, non-fiction, poetry, art, and music from Christian, Nicene-Creed-affirming artists, including children and adults, anywhere in the world. This year's prompt is "Beauty in the Everyday" and there is a 500 word limit on literary entries. There are also dozens of prizes available - check them out and submit here.

Other Pilgrim Artists' Festival flash fic: The Gardens of Hades Strange the Living

[just-late-roman-republic-things]

CW for historically-typical violence.

The Roman Republic practiced total military conscription, the dilectus. Everyone fought, and even those who did not go on to further service as part of their political careers would serve several years.

Ancient warfare was brutal at every level. “Foraging”, as a military term, means the wholesale theft and violent extraction of all available grain and food nearby. This usually involved sexual assault of peasants as well as kidnapping them into slavery. Even in friendly territory, towns and cities were willing to spend massive amounts of money to keep armies from being billeted in them (Cic. Ad Att. 5.21, Plut. Luc. 29.8). After foraging, Romans would then fight in battle, and sometimes afterwards explicitly ordered to carry out genocidal and mass-punishment actions of slaughter and torture.

My question is: This seems like a recipe for massive, society-wide PTSD. Is that supported by our sources?

I haven't looked into the sources for the evidence. So this is just my best guess:

War-related trauma was probably extremely common for all the reasons you describe. Some researchers argue that the traumatic impact of inflicting violence varies by culture - e.g. if it's socially acceptable to kill outsiders, you probably won't feel very traumatized by killing an outsider. The Romans weren't raised with ideals like equality, peace, and multiculturalism, ideals which often make modern soldiers horrified when they have to kill. But that's only one part of all the trauma war creates, and we have records of ancient Assyrian soldiers struggling to reacclimate to civilian life, so I suspect some Roman soldiers encountered that, too. Generational trauma would also continue to impact populations for decades after a war ended.

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is a 20th century concept, previously called "shell shock" to describe soldiers in World War I who became too emotionally paralyzed or overwhelmed to fight. Like all disorders, it contrasts with what we've defined as "healthy." Would the Romans have thought it unhealthy to be on guard for violence every time you left your house (hypervigilance), or just good sense in a dangerous world? Would they think it mentally unhealthy for a girl to hate sex after she was enslaved and raped, or perfectly logical?

Conversely, they might be harsher on some things than we are: an veteran who startles and hides under his desk whenever he hears a loud noise might be seen as a coward rather than a man having flashbacks. It might be seen as a character flaw rather than a symptom of illness. The girl who was raped might be expected to get over it because she's married now, and if she doesn't have kids, who will care for her when she's old?

Forgive me if this sounds like I'm quibbling over definitions. I suspect the widespread trauma you imagine was very real, but that cultures have different ways of conceptualizing it, and different ideas of what "healthy" and "unhealthy" behaviors are. It's one of several reasons why we can't diagnose historical figures with mental disorders.

Mark Antony would've probably been offended by Adrian Goldsworthy's suggestion that he was suffering from something as "weak" as PTSD after Parthia. He'd much rather be called an asshole!

(Anyone who knows more about this topic, feel free to chime in!)

[somanyfuckedupiftruebooks]

Mag 18

Themes of eyes and watching are back in this episode. Aside from wanting to flag how truly disgusting this smell sounds, the reason I pulled this quote is because the TMA wiki lists this episode as a Flesh statement but I'm not convinced that it isn't Corruption. Corruption statements usually include a mention of a rotten smell, although it's mostly described as a sweet kind of rot, whereas this is just disgusting.

Yeah I live in an apartment building and my neighbours get up to some loud and annoying nonsense, but this went on every fortnight for years and the statement-giver basically just ignored it. Stuff like this makes me question if every single person in the TMA universe is insane or if this is just what British people are like.

More evidence for Corruption. Also, yuck.

A thick carpet of rotting meat and maggots! YUCK.

Evidence for Corruption again. I don't think the Flesh gives you lesions?

Yeah all my commentary for this episode is basically the same. The sounds like the Corruption, and it also sounds gross.

What's that quote from episode two? About fear becoming as normal as hunger? Something I really love about TMA is how mundane the horrors can be. The Entities are a part of the world and for every life that gets destroyed there are dozens of people who are touched by them and just continue living like it didn't happen.

Well, at least we can confirm that this anonymous plumber isn't Sebastian Skinner, because he noticed something was wrong, took appropriate precautions and promptly noped the fuck out as soon as things got too spooky.

Urgh is there anything worse than touching something in the dark and feeling the wrong texture??

Hmmm. Yes. I guess this is worse.

Anyway I'm obsessed with the detail of the light being smeared with meat so the entire room is bathed with red light. Like, this was horrifying enough already, but Jonny just had to kick it up to the next level with some atmospheric lighting. *Chef's kiss*

Now obviously I see the connection to the Flesh here, but to me it just seems clear that the worst aspect of this is the rot and the pestilence, which is why the whole statement reeks of Corruption to me.

[kingboneboy]

Hooty: An Assessment

So before I begin getting into theories and speculation, lets compile everything we know about Hooty:

Species: bug type demon(self proclaimed)

He is also referred to as a house demon by many characters

He Is the owl house:

he expresses pain when the house is damaged,

he controls the house lights,

and he can even move the weather vane

He can also sperate himself from the house

These two things are not actually contradictory as he is describe as a worm demon, and real world worms can survive when cut in half. So, it stand to reason that he can separate himself at will.

Hooty was present in the flashbacks that show King as a baby

and we know that is a part of Hooty as he takes it with him when going into porta-Hooty mode

Hooty was born and has a mother

Raine was familiar enough with Hooty to know how to distract him and they knew Eda before King came to The Owl House

Its unclear weather Hooty knew about her curse before King and Luz did, but in Knock Knock Knocking on Hooty's door he seems to be the only one who seems aware of what is likely to provoke the owlbeast

And, finally, this image:

Now the Theories:

I have two so far, one that is the most simple, and one that explains the most.

The first theory: Eda found The Owl House while on the run, befriended Hooty, and they became roomies. Her living inside a house demon that can get up and move at will would explain why the emperors coven could never catch her.

The second theory: Eda made Hooty. She's the daughter of a palisman maker and while on the run from the law, she had the idea to make something like a palisman that was the size of a house so she could keep her stuff safe from the emperors coven.

This is a somewhat bold claim but I do have evidence to back this up:

Eda is remarkably unfazed by Hooty's horrific antics:

which you could chalk up to her living with Hooty for so long, except King has known Hooty as long as he can remember and he is constantly disturbed by Hooty:

The residents of the boiling isles are also horrified by Hooty despite the fact that they have flesh eating fairies and murder plants, implying that Hooty is exceptionally weird.

Eda has experience with combining magic and creating odd architecture like the secret doorways around Hexide

The noise Hooty makes when he moves is similar to creaking wood

The Owl House has a lot of aspects to it that make it special to Eda, owlbert on the weathervane(as shown above), the portal eye on the window, etc. so it makes it harder to believe that she just found the Owl House. Likewise the fact that Hooty fits her Owl theme.

Hooty is weirdly obedient to Eda, when he doesn't have a ton of reason to be. Like they are friends and roomies, but Hooty only really directly goes against Eda's orders in Knock Knock Knocking on Hootys Door when he gives her sleeping cookies, and that was because he wanted to help her. Other than that he follows her direct orders.

While he is described as being a demon I don't think that contradicts him being created via magical means. For one, the Batqueen is described as being a demon(bipedal if I had to guess), but she was also once a palisman. Demons also aren't given specific taxonomical features like witches and titans are. Demons are simply split into three categories based on a handful of characterizes, so Hooty could be a magical construct that also fits the description of a bug type demon so he gets classified as one.

During the moonlight conjuring (as shown above), The Owl House, and Hooty as he is one with The Owl House, is brought to life? at least according to what we know about the moonlight conjuring since it allows inanimate objects to be animated. Hooty is animate already, but maybe if he is a magical construct, as far as the moon cares that's close enough. Either that or the moonlight conjuring could also be used to mind control any sentient being, but that sounds like something the Emperor would've taken advantage of if that were the case.

What are your thoughts?

[dankusner]

So You Think You’ve Been Gaslit

When Leah started dating her first serious boyfriend, as a nineteen-year-old sophomore at Ohio State, she had very little sense that sex was supposed to feel good.

(Leah is not her real name.)

In the small town in central Ohio where she grew up, sex ed was basically like the version she remembered from the movie “Mean Girls”: “Don’t have sex, because you will get pregnant and die.”

With her college boyfriend, the sex was rough from the beginning.

There was lots of choking and hitting; he would toss her around the bed “like a rag doll,” she told me, and then assure her, “This is how everyone has sex.”

Because Leah had absorbed an understanding of sex in which the woman was supposed to be largely passive, she told herself that her role was to be “strong enough” to endure everything that felt painful and scary.

When she was with other people, she found herself explaining away bruises and other marks on her body as the results of accidents.

Once, she said to her boyfriend, “I guess you like it rough,” and he said, “No, all women like it like this.”

And she thought, “O.K., then I guess I don’t know shit about myself.”

Her boyfriend was popular on campus.

“If you brought up his name,” she told me, “people would say, ‘Oh, my God, I love that guy.’ ”

This unanimous social endorsement made it harder for her to doubt anything he said.

But, in private, she saw glimpses of a darker side—stray comments barbed with cruelty, a certain cunning.

He never drank, and, though in public he cited vague life-style reasons, in private he told her that he loved being fully in control around other people as they unravelled, grew messy, came undone.

Girls, especially.

Sometimes, when they were having sex, Leah would get a strong gut feeling that what was happening wasn’t right.

In these moments, she would feel overwhelmed by a self-protective impulse that drove her out of bed, naked and crying, to shut herself in the bathroom.

What she remembers most clearly is not the fleeing, however, but the return: walking back to bed, still naked, and embarrassed about having “made a scene.”

When she got back, her boyfriend would tell her, “You have to get it together. Maybe you should see someone.”

A few months after they broke up—not because of the sex but for “stupid normal relationship reasons”—Leah found herself chatting with a girl who was sitting next to her in a science lecture.

It emerged that this girl had gone to the same high school as her ex, and when Leah asked if she knew him the girl looked horrified.

“That guy’s a psycho,” she said.

Leah had never heard anyone speak about him like this.

The girl said that, in high school, he’d had a reputation for sexual assault.

Some of what she described sounded eerily familiar.

“The idea that he would want to have power over a girl while she was asleep was as easy for me to believe as the idea that he needed air to breathe,” she said.

“It reminded me of every sexual experience I had with him, where he had all of the power and I was only a vessel to accept it.”

Leah went back to her dorm room and lay in bed for almost two days straight.

She kept revisiting memories from the relationship, understanding them in a new way.

Evidently, what she’d understood as “normal” sex had been something more aggressive.

And her ex’s attempts to convince her otherwise—implying that she was crazy for having any problem with it—were a kind of controlling behavior so fundamental that she did not have a name for it.

Now, six years later, as a social worker at a university, she calls it “gaslighting.”

These days, it seems as if everyone’s talking about gaslighting.

In 2022, it was Merriam-Webster’s Word of the Year, on the basis of a seventeen-hundred-and-forty-per-cent increase in searches for the term.

In the past decade, the word and the concept have come to saturate the public sphere.

In the run-up to the 2016 election, Teen Vogue ran a viral op-ed with the title “Donald Trump Is Gaslighting America.”

Its author, Lauren Duca, wrote, “He lied to us over and over again, then took all accusations of his falsehoods and spun them into evidence of bias.”

In 2020, the album “Gaslighter,” by the Chicks (formerly known as the Dixie Chicks), débuted at No. 1 on the Billboard country chart, offering an indignant anthem on behalf of the gaslit: “Gaslighter, denier . . . you know exactly what you did on my boat.”

(What happened on the boat is revealed a few songs later:

“And you can tell the girl who left her tights on my boat / That she can have you now.”)

The TV series “Gaslit” (2022) follows a socialite, played by Julia Roberts, who becomes a whistle-blower in the Watergate scandal, having previously been manipulated into thinking she had seen no wrongdoing.

The Harvard Business Review has been publishing a steady stream of articles with titles like “What Should I Do if My Boss Is Gaslighting Me?”

The popularity of the term testifies to a widespread hunger to name a certain kind of harm.

But what are the implications of diagnosing it everywhere?

When I put out a call on X (formerly known as Twitter) for experiences of gaslighting, I immediately received a flood of responses, Leah’s among them.

The stories offered proof of the term’s broad resonance, but they also suggested the ways in which it has effectively become an umbrella that shelters a wide variety of experiences under the same name.

Webster’s dictionary defines the term as “psychological manipulation of a person usually over an extended period of time that causes the victim to question the validity of their own thoughts, perception of reality, or memories and typically leads to confusion, loss of confidence and self-esteem, uncertainty of one’s emotional or mental stability, and a dependency on the perpetrator.”

Leah’s own experience of gaslighting offers a quintessential example—coercive, long-term, and carried out by an intimate partner—but as a clinician she has witnessed the rise of the phrase with both relief and skepticism.

Her current job gives her the chance to offer college students the language and the knowledge that she didn’t have at their age.

“I love consent education,” she told me. “I wish someone had told me it was O.K. to say no.”

But she also sees the word “gaslighting” as being used so broadly that it has begun to lose its meaning.

“It’s not just disagreement,” she said. It’s something much more invasive: the gaslighter “scoops out what you know to be true and replaces it with something else.”

The term “gaslighting” comes from the title of George Cukor’s film “Gaslight,” from 1944, a noirish drama that tracks the psychological trickery of a man, Gregory, who spends every night searching for a set of lost jewels in the attic of a town house he shares with his wife, Paula, played by Ingrid Bergman.

(The jewels are her inheritance, and we come to understand that he has married her in order to steal them.)

Based on Patrick Hamilton’s 1938 play of the same name, the film is set in London in the eighteen-eighties, which gives rise to its crucial dramatic trick: during his nighttime rummaging, Gregory turns on the gas lamps in the attic, causing all the other lamps in the house to flicker.

But, when Paula wonders why they are flickering, he convinces her that she must have imagined it.

Filmed in black-and-white, with interior shots full of shadows and exterior shots full of swirling London fog, the film offers a clever inversion of the primal trope of light as a symbol of knowledge.

Here, light becomes an agent of confusion and deception, an emblem of Gregory’s manipulation.

Gregory gradually makes Paula doubt herself in every way imaginable.

He convinces her that she has stolen his watch and hidden one of their paintings, and that she is too fragile and unwell to appear in public.

When Paula reads a novel by the fire, she can’t even focus on the words; all she can hear is Gregory’s voice inside her head.

The house in which she is now confined becomes a physical manifestation of the claustrophobia of gaslighting and the ways in which it can feel like being trapped inside another person’s narrative—dimly aware of a world outside but lacking any idea of how to reach it.

The first recorded use of “gaslight” as a verb is from 1961, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, and its first mention in clinical literature came in the British medical journal The Lancet, in a 1969 article titled “The Gas-Light Phenomenon.”

Written by two British doctors, the article summarizes the plot of the original play and then examines three real-life cases in which something similar occurred.

Two of the cases feature devious wives, flipping the gender dynamic usually assumed today; in one, a woman tried to convince her husband that he was insane, so that he would be committed to a mental hospital and she could divorce him without penalty.

The article is ultimately less concerned with gaslighting itself than with safeguards around admitting patients to mental hospitals.

The actual psychology of gaslighting emerged as an object of study a decade later.

The authors of a 1981 article in The Psychoanalytic Quarterly interpreted it as a version of a phenomenon known as “projective identification,” in which a person projects onto someone else some part of himself that he finds intolerable.

Gaslighting involves a “special kind of ‘transfer,’ ” they write, in which the victimizer, “disavowing his or her own mental disturbance, tries to make the victim feel he or she is going crazy, and the victim more or less complies.”

On its way from niche clinical concept to ubiquitous cultural diagnosis, gaslighting has, of course, passed through the realm of pop psychology.

In the 2007 book “The Gaslight Effect,” the psychotherapist Robin Stern mines the metaphor to the fullest, advising her readers to “Turn Up Your Gaslight Radar,” “Develop Your Own ‘Gaslight Barometer,’ ” and “Gasproof Your Life.”

Stern anchors the phenomenon in a relationship pattern that she noticed during her twenty years of therapeutic work: “Confident, high-achieving women were being caught in demoralizing, destructive, and bewildering relationships” that in each case caused the woman “to question her own sense of reality.”

Stern offers a series of taxonomies for the stages (Disbelief, Defense, Depression) and the perpetrators (Glamour Gaslighters, Good-Guy Gaslighters, and Intimidators).

She understands gaslighting as a dynamic that “plays on our worst fears, our most anxious thoughts, our deepest wishes to be understood, appreciated, and loved.”

In the past decade, philosophy has turned its gaze to the phenomenon, too.

https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1111/phpe.12046

In 2014, Kate Abramson, a philosophy professor at the University of Indiana, published an essay called “Turning Up the Lights on Gaslighting,” which she has now expanded into a rigorous and passionately argued book-length study, “On Gaslighting.”

Early in the book, she describes giving talks and having conversations about gaslighting in the decade since publishing her original article: “I still remember the sense of revelation I had when first introduced to the notion of gaslighting. I’ve now seen that look of stunned discovery on a great many faces.”

The core of Abramson’s argument is that gaslighting is an act of grievous moral wrongdoing which inflicts “a kind of existential silencing.”

“Agreement isn’t the endpoint of successful gaslighting,” she writes.

“Gaslighters aim to fundamentally undermine their targets as deliberators and moral agents.”

Abramson catalogues the ways in which gaslighters leverage their authority, cultivating isolation in the victim and leaning on social tropes (for example, the “hysterical woman”) to achieve their aims.

Outlining the various forms of suffering that gaslighting causes, Abramson stresses the tautological bind in which it places the victim—“charging someone not simply with being wrong or mistaken, but being in no condition to judge whether she is wrong or mistaken.”

Gaslighting essentially turns its targets against themselves, she writes, by harnessing “the very same capacities through which we create lives that have meaning to us as individuals,” such as the capacities to love, to trust, to empathize with others, and to recognize the fallibility of our perceptions and beliefs.

This last point has always struck me as one of gaslighting’s keenest betrayals: it takes what is essentially an ethically productive form of humility, the awareness that one might be wrong, and turns it into a liability.

Any argument in which two people remember the same thing in different ways can feel like a terrible game of chicken:

the “winner” of the argument is the one less willing to doubt their own memories—arguably the more flawed moral position—whereas the one who swerves first looks weaker but is often driven by a more conscientious commitment to self-doubt.

Being a philosopher, Abramson spends a good deal of time defining the phenomenon by specifying what it isn’t.

Gaslighting is not the same as brainwashing, for example, because it involves not simply convincing someone of something that isn’t true but, rather, convincing that person to distrust their own capacity to distinguish truth from falsehood.

It is also not the same as guilt-tripping, because someone can be aware of being guilt-tripped while still effectively being guilt-tripped.

At the same time—and although Abramson recognizes that “concept creep” threatens to dilute the meaning and the utility of the term—her own examples of gaslighting sometimes grow uncomfortably expansive.

(And her decision to use male pronouns for gaslighters and female pronouns for the gaslit also reinforces a reductive notion of its gender patterns.)

Both the book and her original essay open with a list of more than a dozen “things gaslighters say,” ranging from “Don’t be so sensitive” to “If you’re going to be like this, I can’t talk to you” to “I’m worried; I think you’re not well.”

It’s hard to imagine a person who hasn’t heard at least one of these.

The quotations function as a kind of net, drawing readers into the force field of the book’s argument with an implicit suggestion:

Perhaps this has happened to you.

Growing up in Bangladesh as the daughter of two literature professors, a woman I’ll call Adaya often had difficulty understanding what other people were saying.

She felt stupid because it seemed so much harder for her to comprehend things others understood easily, but over time she began to suspect that her hearing was physically impaired.

Her parents told her that she was just seeking attention, and when they finally took her to the family doctor he confirmed that her hearing was fine.

She was just exaggerating, he said, as teen-age girls are prone to do.

Adaya believed what her parents had said, though she kept encountering situations where she couldn’t hear things.

It wasn’t until her mid-thirties, in 2011, that she finally went to see another specialist.

This was in Iowa, where she’d moved for a graduate program in writing after her first marriage, in Bangladesh, fell apart.

The clinician told her that her middle-ear bone was calcifying; it was a congenital problem that had almost certainly affected her hearing for at least twenty-five years.

Waiting for a bus home from the hospital—in the middle of winter, with a foot of snow all around her—Adaya called her mother to tell her.

She responded without apology (“You’re old enough to take care of yourself, so take care of yourself”), and let another six years pass before casually disclosing that the family doctor had found something wrong with Adaya’s hearing, all those years before.

When Adaya asked why they had kept this from her, her mother replied, “I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to be weak about it.”

Of all the people who approached me on X with testimonies of gaslighting, I found Adaya and her story particularly compelling because her diagnosis eventually offered her a kind of irrefutable confirmation—something the gaslit crave, but often never receive—that allowed her to confront the dynamic directly.

For Adaya, the damage of her parents’ deception went beyond the hardships of her medical condition.

“It made me feel that what I was experiencing in my body was not real,” she told me. “All my life I was told I was lying and exaggerating. . . . In those years when my sense of self was being formed, I was being given a deficient version of myself.”

It was part of a broader pattern.

From an early age, Adaya told me, she felt that she didn’t fit in with her family without quite knowing why.

Eventually, she realized that this sense of falling short had arisen from things her mother said.

She thought of herself as ugly because her mother said so, disparaging her dark skin; when she got a skin infection, she was made to believe it was because she didn’t keep herself clean enough.

“If your mother cannot see the grace and beauty in you, who can?” Adaya said.

That sense of shame and worthlessness propelled her toward an abusive marriage

(“The first boy who told me I was worth loving, I moved toward him”) and kept her in it for years.

The idea of gaslighting first began to resonate with Adaya when she finally went to therapy, in her forties.

She had gone in order to understand the dynamics of her failed marriage, but came to see that the problems went deeper.

As she wrote in one of her first messages to me, she found it easier to talk about surviving domestic violence than about the emotional violence she experienced in her childhood.

The things her mother had said about her “dislodged and disoriented and to some extent destroyed my sense of self.”

Adaya has come to divide her life into three parts:

her youth, when she believed in the version of herself shaped by her mother’s narrative;

the period of adulthood when the hearing diagnosis caused her to wrestle with that narrative;

and the current era, in which she has a stronger self-conception and is in a stable romantic relationship.

She was able to arrive at this point in part because her therapist helped her identify her relationship with her parents as one of gaslighting.

Looking back on herself when she was young, she says, “I almost feel like it’s a different person—like she is my child, and I want to take care of her.”

The psychoanalyst and historian Ben Kafka, who is working on a book about how other people drive us crazy, told me that he thinks our most familiar tropes about gaslighting are slightly misleading.

He believes that, although romantic relationships dominate our cultural narratives of gaslighting, the parent-child dynamic is a far more useful frame.

When I visited Kafka in the cozy Greenwich Village office where he sees his patients, he pointed out that, for one thing, the power imbalance between parents and their children is intrinsically conducive to this form of manipulation.

Indeed, it often happens unwittingly: if a child receives her version of reality from her parents, then she may feel that she has to consent to it as a way to insure that she continues to be loved and cared for.

(And what other sense of reality do we have at first, besides what our parents tell us to be true?)

Additionally, gaslighting later in life almost always involves some degree of infantilization and regression, insofar as it creates an enforced dependence.

Lastly, and crucially, Kafka’s orientation toward parent-child bonds stems from an essentially Freudian belief that the dynamics at play in our adult relationships can usually be traced back to those we grew familiar with in childhood.

There are many memoirs that recount experiences one might call gaslighting—indeed, the very act of writing personal narrative often involves an attempt to “reclaim” a story that’s already been told another way—but few trace the lasting residue of parental gaslighting as deftly as Lily Dunn’s “Sins of My Father.”

When Dunn was six, her father left the family to join a cult who called themselves the sannyasins and preached a doctrine of radical emotional autonomy.

At thirteen, Dunn went to spend the summer at her father’s villa, in Tuscany, where he lived with a much younger wife (they’d got together when he was thirty-seven and she was eighteen) and a rotating crew of fellow cult members.

In the entrancing but unsettling paradise of the villa—with its marble floors and grand staircases, shoddy electricity, and plentiful vats of wine—one of her father’s middle-aged friends began trying to seduce her.

After kissing her in the kitchen, his skin leathery and his breath stale from cigarette smoke, he whispered, “I want to have sex with you,” and invited her back to his camper van to listen to his poems.

When Dunn told her father how anxious these sexual advances made her, he replied that she shouldn’t be worried.

“You could learn something,” he told her. “He’s a good man. He’ll be gentle.”

(He changed his mind once he learned that his friend had gonorrhea.)

For Dunn, her father’s failure to affirm her sense of being preyed upon was far more damaging than the other man’s predation.

Years later, whenever she asked her father to acknowledge that his behaviors had affected her, he would gaslight her even more.

Echoing the teachings of his sannyasin guru, he acted as if it were inappropriate for her to blame him for any emotional damage:

“‘You can choose how you feel,’ he said, again and again. ‘It has nothing to do with me.’ ”

For years after that incident, Dunn told me, “I could never trust that what I was feeling was quite right,” because she’d been consistently told by her father that she felt too much, and that she needed to deal with these feelings on her own rather than foisting them onto others.

At fifteen, she began her first serious romantic relationship, with a much older man (he was thirty-two), and found it almost impossible to trust her suspicions about him.

Looking back, it’s clear to her that he was living with his female partner, but he said that the woman was just a roommate, and Dunn didn’t have the confidence to disbelieve him.

Instead, she told me, she got lost in obsessive thought patterns, trying to figure out whether this man was lying or if she was being paranoid; she couldn’t concentrate properly because she was so consumed by this circular thinking.

“I thought I had to work it out myself,” she said. Looking back, she sees herself frantically trying to play two roles at once: she was the anxious child, who knew something was wrong but couldn’t figure out what, and the adult who was attempting—but not yet able—to take care of things, to make them right.

Sitting in Kafka’s office thinking of Dunn and Adaya, I found myself swelling with indignation on behalf of these gaslit children, taught to feel responsible for the pain their parents had caused them.

But beneath that indignation lurked something else—a nagging anxiety coaxed into sharper visibility by the therapeutic aura of Kafka’s sleek analytic couch.

I eventually told him that, as I worked on this piece, I had started to wonder about the ways I might be unintentionally gaslighting my daughter—telling her that she is “just fine” when she clearly isn’t, or giving her a hard time for making us late for school by demanding to wear a different pair of tights, when it is clearly my own fault for not starting our morning routine ten minutes earlier.

In these interactions, I can see the distinct mechanisms of gaslighting at work, albeit in a much milder form: taking a difficult feeling—my latent sense of culpability whenever she is unhappy, or my guilt for running behind schedule—and placing it onto her.

Part of me hoped that Kafka would disagree with me, but instead he started nodding vehemently.

“Yes!” he said. “Within a two-block range of any elementary school, just before the bell rings, you can find countless parents gaslighting their children, off-loading their anxiety.”

We both laughed.

In the moment, this jolt of recognition seemed incidental, a brief diversion into daily life as we crawled through the darker trenches of human manipulation.

But, after I’d left Kafka’s office, it started to feel like a crucial acknowledgment: that gaslighting is neither as exotic nor as categorically distinct as we’d like to believe.

Gila Ashtor, a psychoanalyst and a professor at Columbia University, told me she often sees patients experience a profound sense of relief when it occurs to them that they may have been gaslit.

As she put it, “It’s like light at the end of the tunnel.”

But Ashtor worries that such relief may be deceptive, in that it risks effacing the particular (often unconscious) reasons they may have been drawn to the dynamic.

Ashtor defines gaslighting as “the voluntary relinquishing of one’s narrative to another person,” and the word “voluntary” is crucial—that’s what makes it a dynamic rather than just a unilateral act of violence.

For Ashtor, it’s not a question of blaming the victim but of examining their susceptibility: what makes someone ready to accept another person’s narrative of their own experience?

What might they have been seeking?

In addition to working as a psychoanalyst, Ashtor has studied and taught in Columbia’s M.F.A. program in creative nonfiction (where I also teach), and she thinks a lot about the connections between gaslighting and personal narrative.

I asked her how patients tend to narrate their gaslighting experiences: how often they come to her with the idea already in their minds, and how often she is the one to bring it up.

Ashtor said that, if she introduces the term, she tries to use it as a placeholder, a first step in figuring out what was at play in a relationship.

When patients introduce it—and sometimes she can sense a patient wanting her to use it first—she may be skeptical, not because they are wrong but because they usually haven’t fully reckoned with their own role in the dynamic yet.

It’s as if they are trying to close something by invoking the word—to mark it as settled, figured out—whereas she wants to open it up.

Ashtor says it frequently becomes clear that patients are very attached to the term “gaslighting,” and fear something will be taken away from them if she disputes it.

The question of what would be taken away is an illuminating one, and it raises an even trickier question: what did the dynamic give them in the first place?

The issue of susceptibility gets thorny quickly; it can appear to veer dangerously close to victim-blaming.

Ashtor doesn’t believe in the old psychoanalytic idea that everything that happens to us is somehow desired, but she does think that it’s worthwhile to investigate why people find themselves in certain toxic dynamics.

Without discounting the genuine suffering involved, she finds it useful to ask what her patients were seeking.

Ashtor wondered aloud to me whether there could be something “good” about gaslighting, and why it feels so transgressive even to suggest that this might be the case.

“There’s a real appeal in adopting someone else’s view of the world and escaping our own,” she told me. “There are very few acceptable outlets in our lives for this hunger for difference.”

Ashtor thinks that therapeutic examination of a gaslighting dynamic can bring you closer to understanding something crucial about yourself: a complicated relationship to motherhood, say, or the effects of certain imbalances or conflicts in your parents’ marriage.

The work is to “understand what’s getting enacted and why.”

One doesn’t necessarily emerge from this type of examination with a self that is entirely “cured” or integrated, but it can, as she says, allow one to “live in closer proximity to the questions and struggles that animate the self.”

In working with patients to better understand their experiences of being gaslit, Ashtor is hoping to give them a different way to engage with the impulses that led them there.

Although most accounts of gaslighting focus on interpersonal dynamics, Pragya Agarwal, a behavioral scientist and a writer based between Ireland and the U.K., believes that it’s more useful to consider the phenomenon from a sociological perspective.

“People who have less power because of their status in society, whether it be gender, race, class, and so on, are more susceptible to being gaslighted,” she told me. “Their inferior status is used as leverage to invalidate their experiences and testimonies.”

She spoke of instances in medicine in which genuinely ill patients are repeatedly told that their symptoms are psychosomatic.

Endometriosis, for example, is an underdiagnosed condition, she said, because women’s pain is often discounted.

Similarly, in the workplace, minorities who report microaggressions may be told that they are being “too sensitive” or that the offending colleague “didn’t mean it like that.”

In this view of gaslighting, it becomes harder to see the utility of susceptibility as a framing concept.

When I asked Agarwal about what role the gaslit party might play in the dynamic, she replied, “I don’t believe that it is the responsibility of the oppressed to create conditions where they wouldn’t be oppressed.”

What does the gaslighter want?

In the 1944 film, the gaslighter’s motivation (to steal Paula’s jewels) is so cartoonishly superficial that it seems like a stand-in for something larger—a metaphor for the desire to undermine a woman’s self-confidence, perhaps, in order to keep her dependent.

In real life, casting the gaslighter as a two-dimensional villain seems insufficient, another way of avoiding a reckoning with complicity and desire.

The question of the gaslighter’s motivation often becomes a chicken-or-egg dilemma: whether their impulse to destabilize another person’s sense of reality stems primarily from wanting to harm that person or from wanting to corroborate their own truth.

Think of the college boyfriend who convinces his girlfriend that all sex involves violence—is his fundamental investment in controlling her or in somehow justifying his own desires?

Abramson writes that both goals can be at play simultaneously, such that a gaslighter may be “trying to radically undermine his target” and also, “in a perfectly ordinary way, trying to tell himself a story about why there’s nothing that happened with which he needs to deal.”

(Indeed, as she points out, gaslighters “are often not consciously trying to drive their targets crazy,” so they may not always be self-aware enough to distinguish between these reasons.)

If the need to affirm one’s own version of reality is pretty much universal, it makes sense that a desire to attack someone else’s competing version is universal, too.

Yet, in the popular discourse, it can seem as if everyone has been gaslit but no one will admit to doing the gaslighting.

Kristin Dombek, in her 2014 book, “The Selfishness of Others: An Essay on the Fear of Narcissism,” discusses how narcissism, once solely a clinical diagnosis, became an all-purpose buzzword.

In her view, we hurl the accusation of pathological selfishness at others as a way of making sense of the feeling of being ignored or slighted.

Gaslighting is not a clinical diagnosis, but, as with narcissism, less precise applications of the term can be a way to take an inevitable source of pain—the fact of disagreement, or the fact that we are not the center of other people’s lives—and turn it into an act of wrongdoing.

This is not to say that narcissism or gaslighting don’t exist, but that, in seeing them everywhere, we risk not just diluting the concepts but also attributing natural human friction to the malevolence of others.

Although “gaslighting” is a term that many members of Gen Z have grown up with, one teen-ager I know expresses its perils in this vein succinctly: “Every time someone gets criticized or called out, they just say, ‘Oh, you’re gaslighting me,’ and it makes the other person the bad guy.”

It doesn’t help that the accusation is essentially unanswerable: “No, I’m not” is exactly what a gaslighter would say.

Even a third party who disputes someone’s account of being gaslit is threatening to inflict the same harm as the gaslighter.

No wonder the issue of proof is crucial in many accounts of gaslighting: the tights on the boat, the charts that show decades of hearing loss, the other women who were assaulted.

These are empirical life preservers that pull us out of the epistemic whirlpool.

In proving that our past perceptions were correct after all, they also seem to guarantee that we are correct now in our feeling of having been hurt.

Such certainty is possible only in retrospect, however. Inside the experience of gaslighting, Abramson writes, “the gaslit find themselves tossed between trust and distrust, unstably occupying a world between the two.”

Which is to say, the more adamant you are that you’re being gaslit, the more probable it is that you’re not.

On Reddit, a man laments, “My last GF loved to tell me I was ‘gaslighting’ her every time I simply had a different opinion than hers. Infuriating.”

Has he been gaslit into thinking he’s a gaslighter?

Part of the tremendously broad traction of the concept, I suspect, has to do with the fact that gaslighting is adjacent to so many common relationship dynamics: not only disagreeing on a shared version of reality but feeling that you are in a contest over which version prevails.

It would be nearly impossible to find someone who hasn’t experienced the pain and frustration—utterly ordinary, but often unbearable—that comes when your own sense of reality diverges from someone else’s.

Because this gap can feel so maddening and wounding, it can be a relief to attribute it to villainy.

At the climax of Cukor’s film, Paula confronts her husband with the truth of his manipulations.

(He has been tied to a chair by a helpful detective. She is brandishing a knife.)

He doubles down on his old tricks, trying to convince her that she has misinterpreted the evidence and should cut him free.

But Paula turns his own game against him: “Are you suggesting that this is a knife I hold in my hand? Have you gone mad, my husband?”

In a further twist, she inhabits the role of madwoman as a repurposed costume:How can a madwoman help her husband to escape? . . . If I were not mad, I could have helped you. . . . But because I am mad, I hate you. Because I am mad, I have betrayed you. And because I’m mad, I’m rejoicing in my heart, without a shred of pity, without a shred of regret, watching you go with glory in my heart!

On its surface, this final scene offers us a clear, happy ending.

The gaslit party triumphs and objective truth prevails.

But deeper down it gestures toward a more complex vision of gaslighting: as a reciprocal exchange in which both parties take turns as gaslit and gaslighter.

This is a version of gaslighting that psychoanalysis is more congenial to.

In the Psychoanalytic Quarterly article from 1981, the authors describe a “gaslighting partnership” whose participants may “oscillate” between roles: “Not infrequently, each of the participants is convinced that he or she is the victim.”

In this sense, gaslighting is both more and less common than we think.

Extreme cases undoubtedly occur, and deserve recognition as such, but to understand the phenomenon exclusively in light of these dire examples allows us to avoid the more uncomfortable notion that something similar takes place in many intimate relationships.

One doesn’t have to dilute the definition of gaslighting to recognize that it happens on many scales, from extremely toxic to undeniably commonplace.

Ben Kafka told me that he thinks one of the key insights of psychoanalysis is that people respond to anxiety by dividing the world into good and bad, a tendency known as “splitting.”

It strikes me that some version of this splitting is at play not only in gaslighting itself—taking an undesirable “bad” emotion or quality and projecting it onto someone else, so that the self can remain “good”—but also in the widespread invocation of the term, the impulse to split the world into innocent and culpable parties.

If the capacity to gaslight is more widely distributed than its most extreme iterations would lead us to believe, perhaps we’ve all done more of it than we care to admit.

Each of us has been the one making our way back into bed, vulnerable and naked, and each of us has been the one saying,

Come back into this bed I made for you.

X

[ramonadecember]

Isaiah

- Fir 2 , 3, 4

- Holly 2, 3, 4

- Ivy 2, 4

- Mistletoe 1, 3, 4

- Pine 1, 3

- Birch 1

oc questions.

sweet baby boy Isaiah wah.

--

Fir 2: Isaiah will always, almost to a fault, try to inspire hope rather than be blunt or ‘realistic.’ Maybe it’s pointless and naive, but it’s just how he is. Maybe a positive attitude won’t fix everything or cure everything or make it all better, but Isaiah knows that it definitely doesn’t hurt. That does seem to change a bit down the line, which is of real concern to Cain and his belief that he’s an entirely terrible influence on Isaiah (just because he says the positive is annoying doesn’t mean he wants it to stop…), and he tries to reformat we that hopeful part of Isaiah.

Fir 3: The above is the explanation as to why yeah, Isaiah would totally fight for a seemingly lost cause, or rather… would have the belief that no cause is truly ever a lost one. He would have given up on Cain a long time ago otherwise lmfao. But yeah, Isaiah is someone who really sticks to his beliefs and principles, thinking them very just and good, and so even when starting to be faced with increasing evidence how that’s not always the case, and how he may have been misled a little, he still holds true.

Fir 4: Most things about Isaiah can be described as stubborn, even if you wouldn’t initially expect it out of him. So it tracks that he’d be stubbornly loyal too, and most of all, that’s going to apply to Cain. In the beginning, Cain wanted nothing to do with him, and still Isaiah was a puppy on his heals. But even after learning who Cain really is—or at least, who he used to be—Isaiah refused to change his opinion on him. He wouldn’t hear it if people thought he should stop hanging around Cain or implied anything wrong with him. Isaiah is Cain’ biggest hype man, his ride or die lmao. And it definitely means he does overlook some things that really are questionable.

Holly 2: Isaiah isn’t necessarily someone to put his faith in lucky charms per se, but ‘faith’ is really the key word there. That’s what he has instead of a specific lucky charm. He puts a lot on his faith to get him through uncertain times or tough situations, crediting higher powers rather than a bout of good luck stemming from some sort of trinket. Not gonna judge anyone who does have something like that, though, because hey. Whatever works for a person.

Holly 3: This is one of those things where there isn’t one big moment, no one big harm or burden that Isaiah has taken on. But rather, he always wants to take on other’s burden. He is always lending a sympathetic ear and heart to listen to someone who is having a hard time or a bad day or what have you, and if he can, Isaiah wants to help them out (even if it’s just by being someone to listen to them). There’s no big reason he does it either, Isaiah just thinks it’s the right thing to do. A burden shared is a burden halved and all that.

Holly 4: I know for a lot of these characters I have these very cheesy response, or deep meaningful moments, but for Isaiah it’s a lot more mundane. Horrifying, but still more mundane. As a child, Isaiah almost drowned (getting in over his head is apparently going to be a theme in his life ha…), and he was lucky someone was there to pull him out of the water since he was often left to his own devices for large amounts of time, his parents trusting him not to get into trouble. Isaiah is more likely to be found on the bank fishing these days, rather than in the water.

Ivy 2: One of the main things that inspires loyalty from Isaiah is honesty a sense of duty. He follows because he believes he’s supposed to. And like… yes, that sounds like it could easily be sketchy or dangerous, but in Isaiah’s defense, he also believes that the people he’s willing to give his loyalty are good, genuine people who deserve it. When that starts to change, then his loyalty starts to waver, and it leave him very torn and off kilter after such a long time of supporting/following certain people.

Ivy 4: Isaiah is quite connected to his place of birth. He loves his tiny little town in the middle of nowhere and has never really had any plans of getting away from it. As the preacher’s son, Isaiah is quite well known there, and for the most part, people think he’s just the sweetest thing (which of course means there’s the other handful who think he’s an eyeroll worthy goody two shoes). But his ties there start to become… a little complicated when his eyes start getting opened to the broader world and the people there he’s closest to start ti show their true colors. He has to make a decision whether to turn a blind eye to some not great behaviors, or to finally set out on his own.

Mistletoe 1: I think I’ve talked about this in a different post, but Isaiah’s first friend was a girl his age who he grew up with. She was always so kind and stood up for him to other kids who really weren’t, having the confidence to balance out what was, at the time, a more timid Isaiah. Isaiah adores her, she’s still his best friend. And as a side fun fact, was also his first crush before he… learned some (gay lol) things about himself that ruled her out of his pool of interest, ha.

Mistletoe 3: Other people would describe Isaiah as peaceful, he is pretty relaxing to be around. Rarely does he gets out of line, really only showing his excitable side to a select few. But Isaiah really enjoys being that soothing presence, he wants to be able to do that for people. He wants to be the calm in a storm for people, be it friends and family, or members of the church, or mysterious strangers who get dumped on the doorstep who seem to need a little extra something like that in their lives…

Mistletoe 4: Not gonna lean too hard into Isaiah’s religious upbringing here, but it does influence on his views of mankind as a whole. Skipping the nitty gritty, humanity is flawed, but that’s kind of a beautiful thing, and overall he believes that people are good. Isaiah is also able to see the good in just about everyone, refusing to believe that a person can ever truly be irredeemable.

Pine 1: At one point, Isaiah sets out on his own venture, which isn’t really his best idea. The decision was made when he was in a pretty emotional state, and Isaiah, who’d never been very far from his home, and never on his own, was highly unprepared for it. He ends up getting in over his head and get roughed up from it. It’s nothing too bad ultimately, but Isaiah luckily hasn’t had to deal with a lot of physically painful moments in his life. What makes it worse the is the injury to his pride. Isaiah is usually pretty good at asking for help when he needs it and letting himself be taken care of (see below), but in that case, he refuses to go crawling back to any of the people who thought this was a horrible idea in the first place.

Pine 3: When hurt or sick, Isaiah actually is a pretty good ‘patient.’ He’s used to some coddling (even if he starts to reject it), but likes to just be… treated softly (no we’re not going to look at his choice of partner after saying that lmao). It’s kinda nice to have someone else take care of you for a little while, especially when you’re a person who’s always taking care. And Isaiah might be my only oc who actually not only believes, but abides by the truth that resting/taking it easy is the best thing to do in the case of injury or illness.

Birch 1: The thing that really fundamentally changed him to his core was ending up in what was essentially a ‘no son of mine’ conversation that ended with Isaiah getting hit. It was the final straw in Isaiah convincing himself that questionable behavior wasn’t as bad as it seemed, he couldn’t do it anymore. He also could no longer delude himself into thinking that his family would ever accept any part of him that didn’t fit with the good, god-fearing boy ideal that they wanted of him. It’s what ends up making Isaiah pack his bags and leave town, setting out all on his own.

[liopleurodean]

Season 9, Episode 9: Holy Terror

Oh, that evokes visceral memories of church camp as a kid

They're pretty good

Interesting choice

Face-off

Okay then

Wow

I don't like it

Yeah

Too bad. It's his job

When is he not?

Riiight

Nice switch

Uh oh

Light-speed

Broken record

Absolutely

Uh oh

...Cas?

Investigating, obviously

He wasn't really into it

Heck yeah

There could be many factions

Come on, you love Cas

Right

A limo?

Alright then

That's scary

They look like video game characters

Not a wise choice, methinks

Yup

That's monumental

Yeah, sure

Is he... buzzed?

Evidently not that much

Okay

That's hilarious

Why don't you just sit back and shut up?

Suck it up, Buttercup

Good job, Cas

Great.

Gadreel, right? One of those spoilers

Nope!

Yeah...

Do they?

Really?

Is he even really helping anymore?

Dang. Rip to Aziraphale

Giving Vizzini vibes

That's just fantastic

Should've thought of that first, dingbat

Like Uriel?

Bad idea

Eh...

Ha. Honestly

Nice

Cool!

There it is

It's an idea

Malachi people

Spooky

Right...

That's just savage

Humans?

I'm sure

Uh oh

Someone has to do it

I cannot even BEGIN to describe the sheer HILARITY of watching this in the year of our Lord 2023, immediately following the Xwitter mess

Sure

...oh, Cas...

Cas...

It's rough

Oop

Interesting

Maybe

Fair

Sounds like what you want

Of course she was a soprano

Poor kids

Again

Uh huh

She showed up

Well that's great

What about a third party?

Uh oh

Poor girl

He's telling the truth

I want a Cas tree topper

Does he?

Comparing lives is stupid

Poor girl

Evidently

He's trying to repent

Oh ho, there it is

Yeah, whatever

That's mercy, Cas

Why?

No kidding

Cowards way out

Buddy. You're so stupid

This is where the Cas girlies come from, isn't it?

This'll end well

Ah, the stolen grace

Cas is back

Oh boy

Spooky

Long story

Yeah...

Sort of

That's not what he asked

Sorry, Kevin

It's an emergency

Good spitball

This is really urgent

Hah! As if

Let me guess. Kevin?

Good enough

He's gonna die trusting you

Facts

99%

I hope it worked

Do it

Oh, Dean...

Hurry up

Nope

BECAUSE YOU WERE DYING, IDIOT

Yeah. Bad.

Sam. Please

Yeah, okay

But seriously. Deal with the angel

CRAP

That's not Sam

That was anticlimactic

Yeah. There was no blue light

No, you're not

Is it?

You liar.

This is horrifying

Oh, Kevin...

Dean, I'm sorry...

Gonna match the single man tear