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amongemeraldclouds · 2 months

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better than revenge | chapter five: smash!

Lorenzo Berkshire x Reader (ft. Ex!Mattheo Riddle)

Series trope: Fake dating

Chapter five summary: You and Enzo get to know each other and end up showing him how studying together can be fun. 1.8k words.

Warning: Cursing, angst, fluff, no use of y/n, slight suggestiveness.

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“The best way to deal with your anger, aside from good ol’ revenge,” Enzo starts, “is to break shit.”

“When you said we were going to The Breaking Point, I didn’t think you meant it literally,” I say, looking at graffiti scrawled all over the building tucked neatly in an alley.

“Come on, it’s going to be fun,” he says holding my hand and leading me inside.

Once we’ve got our safety gear on, Enzo reaches for the dishes and consecutively throws three plates against the wall. The smashing of plates sounds almost melodic, like wind howling through chimes.

“Stressful week, huh?” I ask him.

“I’m getting my ass handed to me in Potions,” Enzo replies, throwing another plate for good measure.

He hands me a pile, “but never mind that. Your turn. Think of something that angers you, imagine they’re the plate and then throw it.”

I think of Mattheo’s annoying smile and take aim. Crash!

The sound of his laugh. Smash!

Seeing him kiss her. Crash!

I still love him. Smash!

I’m such an idiot. Crash!

I’m out of breath when the final pieces crash on the floor.

⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎

“I haven’t felt this good in weeks!” I exclaim, twirling on the sidewalk as we make our way to dinner. I ignore the curious glances I attract and walk ahead, beaming.

Enzo laughs, “told you, I’ve got ways to help you release stress—”

“Without being a perv,” I finish his sentence.

“Not what I was going to say, but okay,” he muses.

“You winked at me! It’s your fault I assumed, Lorenzo Berkshire” I glare at him.

He raises his hands to concede. “Fine fine, but never call my by my full name again. You’re scary,” he shudders.

“Tell me more about Potions,” I say, tamping down my smile.

“I’ve been having a hard time memorizing the right ingredients. I keep mixing up horse hair and horseradish, or moondew and moonseed. Why do they have to sound so similar?” he explains, running a hand through his hair in exasperation.

“That sucks, I can see why it can be confusing,” I say, fixing his hair absentmindedly.

“I can help you study!” I offer.

He smirks, “you know, Mattheo and I compete with grades. He may be naturally smarter and doesn’t have to apply himself as much, I’ll give him that. But I work hard and even skipped a grade because of it. It’s how we’re in the same grade even though I’m younger and I’ve been lording it over him ever since. But Potions…”

I see where he’s going. “Potions is a nightmare. So by studying together, you’ll get better grades and outrank Mattheo again. Even more incentive to help, fake boyfriend. Let’s make that phase two of The Book.”

I grab his arm and see him smiling down at me. “Let’s study at your dorm next week, it’s gonna be fun!”

“Why not at the library so people can see us?” He asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“Because my ways are not allowed at the library, it’s loud but fun,” I say.

“Oh?” He asks with a devilish smile.

“I did not wink at you, Berkshire! I didn’t mean it that way,” I smack his arm.

He laughs, “I’ve never heard the term ‘fun’ and ‘studying’ in the same sentence, but if anyone can do it, it’s probably you.”

⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎

“Have you ever heard of mnemonics?” I ask Enzo.

“Stop making up words.”

“I’m not! Mnemonics is a way we can memorize things through key phrases and words. Okay, so look at this,” I open a Potions textbook to one of the instructions.

“Felix felicis, liquid luck. To create this, you need ashwinder egg, horseradish and heat. No horse hair here. To make it easy to remember, use the phrase “ashes take root in the heat.”

“How does that make it easier?”

“The key word you need to remember is ashes. What do they do? They take root in the heat. Ash is short for ashwinder egg and next time you’re confused between horse hair or horseradish, remember which one is the root vegetable?”

“Horseradish!” He exclaims. “Ashes take root in the heat. You make this so much easier! Why can’t you be our Potions professor instead?” “Snape would have your head if he hears you,” I say. “But wait, we haven’t got to the fun part yet. Once you have your phrase, you then have to turn it into a song.”

Enzo laughs indulgently, “like one of those children shows?”

“You laugh at my methods, Berkshire. But it won’t be so silly once you’re exceeding expectations in class. You gotta trust the process.”

“Does the process know we’re trusting it?” He quips.

“Isn’t it so much easier memorizing song lyrics than class notes?” I retort. He nods, considering me.

“Come on, Enzo. We can even sing it to the tune of your favorite song.” He gives me a pained look but gives in and hours go by, we have our key phrases and songs that go with potion ingredients and techniques.

Laughing, Enzo takes my hand and lifts me off the chair, spinning me around. “We’ve done the singing, now let’s dance.”

“But there’s no music,” I comment as my cheeks flush when I feel his hands on waist, inviting me to sway with him.

“Move with me,” he says, “we can use this as practice for when we attend a ball.”

I close my eyes and imagine music as I follow his steps, trying to avoid stepping on his foot. His hands feel strong and reassuring, guiding me as he hums a soft tune. We move in comfortable silence and I relax into the moment.

“You did well today,” I tell him as he spins me again and he bows, marking the end of the dance.

“Only because I had a fantastic teacher,” he remarks. “I’ll definitely outrank Mattheo with you by my side.”

“What’s the deal with you and Mattheo, anyway? Why are you rivals?” I ask.

“It’s therapy time, huh?” He says, settling in his bed and I sit beside him. He takes a moment, turning the question over in his mind. “It started when we were kids, our mother would have us play these games to see who bested each other. Did you know, we even competed to see who’d eat the most vegetables during dinner?”

“Well…” I say, bewildered. “That’s one way to get you to eat healthy, I guess?”

“We didn’t grow up in the same household, of course,” he continues. “So I only knew him through the occasional awkward family dinner. But our mother, if you scored better grades or won some contest, that’s when she would come visit and spend time with whoever won. We’ve been that way ever since,” he shrugs.

“You realize that’s not normal, right?” I ask.

“Is any family even normal?” He counters.

“No, family dynamics are weird. Mine isn’t any better,” I agree. “I just mean that you don’t have to compete for love. Someone can love you exactly as you are, you don’t have to earn it. That’s what my mother used to say” I explain.

He looks at my eyes, speechless and searching.

“You know that, right?” I try. Of course he doesn’t. “You don’t have to try hard to be loved.”

We sit in electric silence as he shifts his gaze down my mouth before meeting my eyes again. I want to hold this boy with sad eyes, so warm and full of life, but alone here in the privacy of his room it will be real.

“It’s getting late and Theo will be back soon from the party.” I clear my throat and brush off these feelings, whatever they are. I rise from his bed and take my things. “This was productive, let’s do it again tomorrow.”

He blinks, shaking off the moment. “Of course, yeah. Thank you.”

Enzo walks me to the door and bids me good night.

“Good night,” I reply, rising on my toes to kiss his cheek.

I walk back to my dorm and glance at my watch. It’s much later than I thought. I briefly pause when a voice interrupts my thoughts.

“If cuddling is the best part, he didn't do it right.” I look up and see Mattheo watching me come from the direction of Enzo’s dorm.

My annoyance flares, “Why hello to you too, Mattheo. Don’t you have some girl to disappoint?”

“Oh I never disappoint in bed,” he says with a smirk and I look at his dark eyes, remembering heated nights and all the ways I’ve come undone for him and with him. Memories of warm skin tangled in sheets, moaning messes, and the euphoric maze we lost and found ourselves in.

I shake my head and sigh, “do what you want, Riddle. It’s what you’re good at anyway.”

That shuts him up and I walk past him.

⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎

The next few weeks go by and Enzo and I get into a comfortable rhythm studying together. We spend meal times together at the Great Hall and visit Hogsmeade on weekends in the name of fake dating.

I approach Enzo as students file out the room from Potions class.

“Look here,” he beams, showing me his grade.

“Exceeds expectations! You did it, Enzo!” I engulf him in a hug and laugh in surprise as he twirls me around before setting me down.

He looks at Mattheo making his way to the exit and calls out, “not that I need a number to prove I’m better than you, brother, but it seems the numbers have spoken again.”

Mattheo pauses and looks back, “is it really a win, brother, if you needed someone’s help to get there?” He looks at me and raises an eyebrow.

Enzo puts his arm around me. “You mean, I get to outrank you, after skipping a grade by the way. And I have an incredible girlfriend by my side? I don’t see what the problem is.”

I step in, “Well Enzo, not everyone knows what they have when they have it.” I shift my gaze to Mattheo, “Matheo wouldn’t understand, now would you?” I shake my head condescendingly.

“Come on, we have to celebrate!” I wink at Enzo and he grins at our inside joke as we walk out.

When we reach the hallway, he leans in to whisper, “you winked! Are we really going to celebrate?”

I smack his arm and whisper back, “that was just for The Book. Behave.”

“Okay, just checking. Because you know I wouldn’t mind at all if—” I glare at him and he holds his hands up in retreat.

I soften, “You can, however, get a congratulatory kiss.” I pull my arms around his shoulders and kiss him. He smiles against my lips.

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Author's note: I recently went to a similar place where I got to break stuff and I knew these characters had to do it too. I nearly named this chapter "break plates, not hearts" hahahaha.

Oh and Mattheo’s first line comes directly from an episode of Veronica Mars iykyk.

Taglist: @hoeforvinniehackerrr @i-think-you-are-gr8 @thecraziestcrayon @adreamingpendulum @themarauderswife7 @midsoulz @ultramarinetovelvet @val-writes @lafrone @daisiesformylove @mildly-delulu @allebasi05 @enha-stan @skb4000 @nat1221 @s0urw00lf

#lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire imagine #enzo x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheoxreader #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #mattheo riddle #lorenzo berkshire #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x reader #slytherin boys #enzo berkshire #slytherin x reader #slytherin x slytherin #amongemeraldcloudswrites

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mylordshesacactus · 2 months

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LOVE, WATER, FIRE

What is your best writing advice?

"Show don't tell" doesn't mean what you think it does. Learn it better, and free yourself from a half-understood mnemonic.

When you show, you slow. Learn THAT one backward and forward as well; it won't fix pacing issues overnight, but it'll help you understand what causes them.

Writing fanfiction? Go back to the source material FREQUENTLY, or you'll lose all sense of the characters and end up writing someone unrecognizable.

If you struggle to block out action sequences, genuine advice? Think in terms of combat rounds in D&D. Not literally, of course, nobody should be taking rigorous turns, but: Play out the action in your head. If six seconds have gone by, everyone in this sequence should have done something. That thing could be charging into melee range--noting that this extra combatant is running toward the fight but hasn't gotten there yet. It could be reloading a weapon. It could be clutching their side in shock and wheezing. They don't need to be Selecting A Combat Action, but fight scenes become incoherent when you lose track of who's doing what. When you forget about Goon #3 and then have him show up again doing something that doesn't remotely track with where you last left him. YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE TO INCLUDE THEM IN THE NARRATION if they're not important! If two seconds ago your protagonist kicked a guy off the dock, we can safely assume they'll spend at least the next several "combat rounds" climbing back out. But at any given moment, YOU should know where everyone is, what they're doing, and why.

But most importantly:

Anyone purporting to give The End-All Be-All Writing Advice is either delusional or a scam. Yes, including or perhaps especially famous bestselling authors. What works for them won't necessarily work for you, and there are plenty of people who don't even like their work. You're never going to be whoever's advice you try to mimic. Write your stuff, not theirs.

Do you prefer urban fantasy or high fantasy?

Yes!

Genuinely though. They're both good and they both serve their respective narratives in some way. In general I'm more drawn to high fantasy, personally, but I'm never not going to be interested in a well-done urban fantasy.

Pedantic nitpick though, these things are not the opposites they are being portrayed as. I think what the question was GOING for was actually "low vs high fantasy" which is a completely separate concept. Words mean things! But also, I'm not an ass, and the intent was pretty clear.

(High Fantasy: This story is set in a completely separate world from ours, with no crossover into our known and lived reality. ANY completely separate world, regardless of technology level! STAR WARS IS HIGH FANTASY. This is not an opinion, this is a genre fact.

Low Fantasy: The story is set partially in our world or includes crossover or other intrinsic connections to a realistic world that follows the same rules and expectations of our world. Isekai and portal fantasies like Narnia fall into this category, as do hidden-world/veiled-magic fantasies like the Bad Wizard Lady Books, Percy Jackson, and Artemis Fowl; and also a lot of true-anthropomorphic fiction like Watership Down, Warriors, etc. Note that "low fantasy" does NOT mean "gritty" fantasy or fantasy that focuses on the lower classes instead of nobles, nor does it mean a low-magic pseudo-medieval setting

Urban Fantasy: A story with fantasy tropes and themes that takes place in an urban setting. Can be low or high fantasy!)

What is the worst thing you've ever created?

Okay so this one time in high school me and my best friend Sam were trying to make lemon bars at his house and to this day we do NOT know what the hell ingredient we neglected to add to the lemon bars

but given the state of the results, there is a non-zero chance that the ingredient we forgot was flour.

#askmeme #not today satan I do not shittalk my work #i learn from it

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rigelmejo · 4 months

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Some learning apps I've liked (in no patrticular order)

Renshuu (japanese): good lessons, a bit slow paced for me

Readibu (chinese reading app): free version is good, paid version includes full sentence audio and translations I think which may be useful.

Pleco (chinese dictionary and reader app): top level app, get it now if you study chinese and use your phone at all. Its free version includes a huge great dictionary, and Clipboard Reader which has ALL the Reader features just that you have to copy and paste the chinese text in (their paid Reader you can upload epub txt files etc directly). Their paid features are nice because they are all 1 time fees: pay 5 dollars once and have the purchased item forever. I hate subscriptions so i love that this app does single purchase instead. I bought some graded readers on this, and expanded dictionaries. Its Dictate Text text to speech feature is nice in the Reader/Clipboard reader because it highlights the word as it reads and shows translation, making it easy to follow along.

Duoreader: a free basic app, has a few parallel language books for many languuages. It includes text to speech audio and click word translation. Excellent for free reading with parallel text set up.

Smart Book by Kursx (also under the name Parallel Translation of books by kursx on the app store): it uses mtl, but you can search for books or import books, and it will show sentence translations or make an entire parallel text for you, it also has click translations, word saving, progress information (which is motivating to me), and text to speech read aloud function. Its currently what i use the most for reading. Trahslations are as good as Lingq or Google Translate so NOT always reliable but useable and the sentence translation helps for figuring out grammar. But Pleco and Readibu have BETTER translations. For chinese this app is good, for japanese its useable if youre upper beginner but if you dont know basic grammar and particles then the japanese individual word translations are often wrong and unreliable - sentence long translations are useable though.

Tofugu: good hanzi study app.

Anki: great app especially if you import decks made by people around the internet. I look up decks by going to a search engine and typing in something like "4000 hanzi mnemonics anki deck" or "common chinese words in sentences anki deck." I have recommended some anki decks I've used on this blog. A tip about anki: their website works fine in mobile browsers, you do not have to pay for any app to use anki on your phone, you can just use the site if you'd prefer. For initial uploads of flashcard decks created by other users, you will need to install anki on a computer, then download the anki deck from the deck's page online, then put it into your computer anki program. After you do that, you can sync your computer anki to the website one. Then you can use anki either online or on the computer or on both. I use anki only on my phone mobile browser. It seems the main benefit of anki phone apps over using the internet mobile browser, is flashcards are easier to Make if you end up wanting to make your own anki flashcards on your phone.

Immersive Chinese: chinese lessons. I haven't used it much but I like the structure

Glossika: I specifically recommend getting the old cds, possibly through your library, or finding the mp3 files online. I think the audio files are easier if youre not good at focusing on consistently doing SRS flashcards, since spaced repetition study sentences are the new glossika model and require a monthly subscription. Plus side to the new model: most languages have around 6000 sentences where the old cd courses often had around 3000 sentences. Plus side to the old cds/mp3s: can be found in many libraries for free, and online, and if you do buy them theyre a one time cost. Excellent resource if you like audio review (i do), with common grammar and vocabulary taught. I like that even the 3000 word old courses will get you at least to upper beginner or lower intermediate, enough knowledge to start learning by reading or watching shows and looking words up, and enough words to have some conversations. Pimsleur is similar but tends to cover less vocabulary, so afterward you need to learn more words on your own before you can immerse and look up words to study.

Japaneseaudiolessons.com: a website with free japanese audio lessons, a free textbook, free notes. They also have nice kanji learning books with pre written mnemonics and sentence examples for sale.

Your local library: a lot of libraries have deals with language learning sites/apps, your specific library may provide some courses for free. In addition, apps Hoopla and Libby have a lot of courses and digital textbooks and audios you can check out. You can use those apps with a library card. If you are a college student, a lot of college ebook collections include MANY textbooks and independent study books for languages. Nearly every Tuttle book I got for studying Japanese and Chinese, I was able to check out the ebook version first using my college library and only bought those books because I ended up finding them so useful I wanted print copies. (For that matter, some under $20 dollar reference books I owe for teaching me hanzi and kanji: Tuttle Learning Chinese Characters: HSK Levels 1-3 - this book gave me a foundation in hanzi and was the easiest guide for learning hanzi for me and learning HOW to remember them. I found it more useful than Heisig's Remember the Kanji/Hanzi books by far, although they utilize a similat idea, and less effort to remember than Kodansha Kanji Learner's Guide - although I like that reference book as a reference. Runner up is Tuttle Learn Japanese Today: The Easy Way to Learn 400 Practical Kanji by Len Walsh. It was more basic than the hanzi book, less in depth, but a very approachable understandable and quick to learn kanji book to start out with when studying Japanese, that will not overwhelm you the way say Heisig or KKLG might. For hanzi I used my Learning Chinese Characters book for a few months, then an anki deck "hanzi 2000 mnemonics pinyin" while also just regularly looking up new words while reading graded readers then chinese show subtitles then webnovels, and making up my own mnemonics which got easier over time. For japanese, I followed up with a vocabulary deck as I found vocabulary easier to remember than isolated kanji, and kanji.koohi.com was a useful site for free user submitted mnemonics to remember kanji when I struggled to remember. Its also a good site for free flashcards and study of kanji generally.

ChinesePronunciationTrainer: a really simple free app. It's biggest usefulness is practicing pronunciation. You can record yourself trying to pronounce a sentence after hearing the chinese pronunciation, then play back your recorded attempt compared to the chinese pronunciation. The app makes shadowing easier to evaluate, so you can compare and notice if you're making pronunciation errors and work on them. It's also very simple low feature speaking practice.

LingoTube: free app, uses machine translation. If you want to watch youtube with dual subtitles, or click translations on subtitles, or instant replay/loop of dialogue lines, this is an app that can do that. Very useful for immersing with youtube videos like youtubers and shows on youtube.

Idiom app: it is orange with an i on the icon. Click skip for the "helm" offer when you first download it, helm is a paid add on for better translations and you may not want it right away. The core app is free (helm add on costs a subscription). This app is basically Lingq but free. Translation quality is the same, which appears to be google translate quality on Lingq and Idiom. So some errors, but useable especially as you hit upper beginner and above and can notice when you may want to reference a word in an external dictionary (like Pleco app for chinese, yomiwa app for japanese, etc).

Satori Reader: a graded reader app for japanese, absolutely amazing quality material. I recommend exploring the free content on the app. If you decide you'll use it a lot, or plan to get into a reading kick for a few months, it's worth getting a subscription for a while. I plan to get a subscription once I have the time to read japanese 1-2 hours a day for a few months. Satori Reader has tons of reading materials branching from approachable to an upper beginner (say you can read Yostuba manga a bit, or are in Genki 2, or know around 2000 words) to you're almost ready to read webnovels or regular japanese novels but the difficulty bump is just a Touch too steep. If you go through the various reading level material on the app, you shpuld be prepared to handle at least some japanese novels for natives once you can handle some of the higher reading level stuff on Satori Reader. In addition: the translations are done by professional translators with in depth notes on grammar points (incredibly useful and the best explanations on Japanese Graded Readers Ive used), fully narrated stories by real people, and many of the graded readers are designed to be enjoyable long reading material in their own right. There's also some multiple difficulty versions of reading material if you'd like to read an easier version before trying a more complex version of the same story. There is so much reading material on the app you can get significant practice and vocabulary/grammar improvement if you have time to read. I lnow a few people who got through a few hundred+ chapters on this app, and generally they went from N4 or N3 reading level to N2 or N1. Then they transitioned to reading novels for natives. As far as high quality well made well explained plentiful graded reading material for japanese, this is one of the best resources I've found. (The other 2 great graded readers I have are textbooks, one being a Tuttle Read Japanese book that goes from basics through to being able to read 2000 kanji, newspapers and documents, formal and informal, and is dry af to read but generally leaves you fairly prepared for japanese reading, and a more basic Beginning Japanese Reading book thats part of a 4 part textbook collection and absolutely drills the basic 500 most common kanji and many words, hiragana and katakana and many words in them, for 500 or so pages).

Microsoft Edge. I know, weird. Edge on computer and mobile internet browser has a Read Aloud tool. It is the best sounding text to speech Ive heard. This Read Aloud tool is also in Microsoft Word if you copy paste text into Word. I find going to sites in my target language, and using the Read Aloud tool, is a nice way to get audio in with my reading when I can't find an audiobook. The tool also highlights the word as it reads, helping you keep up with the reading, and for me it helps improve my reading speed. In addition, ANY web browser (and any phone/tablet Reader app like Kindle, Moonreader, Kybooks etc.) often has the ability to click or tap or highlight a word to look up the translation. So when reading on any of those internet browsers/Readers, you can look up words just like you would on Lingq but free.

Japanese.io: a site with japanese graded reading material, and tools like click translation and saving words.

https://www.sosekiproject.org/about.html If you like the author Soseki, this site is awesome. It features full audio of his works, full parallel text translation, and individual word translation.

#apps #tools #resources #reference

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dariaslookalike · 2 months

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Needing Miller pt 4.

Summary: It's a shit hole of a world that you're living in, and it gets even shittier when you're ambushed in your sleep. It's a slippery slope that leads you from being tucked cozily in your sleeping bag to joining the raiding group lead by the most infuriating (and intimidating) man you've ever met. You need to survive, above all else- either in this group (without smacking its leader over the head), or in the world alone after somehow escaping. Easier said than done, when your mind loses all sense of focus, tactics and skills the second that Joel Miller rolls up his sleeves and shows his godforsaken forearms.

Warnings: Violence, swearing, adult language, mature themes, eventual smut, female protagonist, no reference of y/n

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N:

Masterlist

-----------------------

Front sight. Barrel. Release. Back sight. Grip. Hammer. Slide stop. Magazine.

Joel loses any sense of teasing or testing as he walks you through the gun’s components- a 9mm pistol, semi-automatic. His tone is even, and his words are systematic and factual. There are no anecdotes or mnemonics or anything remotely unscientific, spare the occasional Never hold it like this if you don’t want to shoot your foot and your ears will ring like hell.

You try to keep your gaze focused on the gun, matching each name to each part, and then each explanation to each name. But, against your wishes, your body betrays you, and you risk glances at him. Only to see what he’s thinking you tell yourself. You briefly study the crease in his forehead, the steady focus of his eyes, his tanned skin, the hair that is starting to grow too long at his temples. Focused. Assured.

“How do you know all this?” The question slips out quietly before you can even stop it.

For the first time, he looks up to you.

He’s so close with the both of you hunched over the gun, and you can see the dark ring of his iris enclosing warm, earthy tones.

Coffee, you think. Not the shit that FEDRA tried to ration, that was bitter and off-putting. But the warm, rich one that your mother used to drink in the mornings- intoxicating, and sweet and home. You wonder what he sees when he looks into your eyes.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk.” His voice is low, and rough, rising out of his chest.

“Fine.” You scoff, shaking your head. You turn your attention back to the gun, watching his finger tap against the barrel.

Tap.

“Texas.”

Tap.

You keep your eyes trained downwards, afraid that if you look at him while he speaks, you’ll scare him away.

“My father. He owned some property, needed security when I was growing up. Said it would be good f’me too. Make me a man.” He scoffs. “He was dead hours into the outbreak.”

The words sound bitter when he says it, and you tentatively raise your gaze. His jaw is set and his brow isn’t furrowed from concentration but old, worn anger. All that and for what? Is what you read in the curl of his lip and flare of his nose. All that apparent authoritarian and masculine parenting only for Joel to be the one standing here.

“My dad was a drunk.” You offer, carefully trying to extend words of understanding. I get it. Joel doesn’t jump at your words, but the tension in his face fades a little, and he looks into your eyes. You clear your throat and continue.

“He wasn’t that useful, though. Never taught us anything like this. I mean, I know how to patch up holes in the wall ‘cause of him. But nothing that would help out here.”

Joel’s lips raise slightly, even if you see a darkening in his gaze when you mention your dad’s wall-punching habits. “Yeah, well I’m sure that’ll be handy one day or ‘nother. I was a carpenter.”

“Oh. Cool.” You nod, trying to seem understanding.

He sees right through you and rolls his eyes. “You don’t know what that is, do you?”

“You worked with carpets?”

He laughs briefly and you want to hear it more, hear it when he’s not holding back. “Mm, with building houses.”

You huff out a snort. “So we both have the perfect skills for an apocalypse then.”

“You can fight dirty. Thank FEDRA for that at least.” He shrugs, the movement casual, but his tone holds back curiosity.

You indulge him. It didn’t seem often that Joel Miller was one for conversation, and if he was up for it today and never again, you would curse yourself for telling him to piss off preemptively.

“It wasn’t FEDRA. I mean they taught us the basics- how to spar, how to use someone’s stance to your advantage. But my knife was,” You hesitate, trying to find the right words. A dead man’s belongings? “A gift from my brother. He taught me how to fight, and not in a clean way.”

Joel huffs, and his hand flexes against the gun. There’s a scabbed wound on the back of his hand, still red and healing. You had almost forgotten you had tried to stab him.

“That’s one way to put it.”

“Look at you!” You glare at him, gesturing with your hands to him- his broad shoulders, his height, his fucking biceps. “You were a big man in front of me after someone had already attacked me. I wasn’t gonna wait ‘til the count of three and start boxing.”

His eyes find yours again, and there’s a heaviness to them, and his voice is quiet, hushed; surrounded by the grass, the soft breeze, and the blue sky seem to soften him.

“I know. You did the right thing.”

You stare at him, trying to remind yourself to breathe, to not blush, to not think about how his thighs felt around you or his hands on yours. Think of anything else. Think of the scar on your cheek, the heat and pain that was still present around the stitches, and the uncomfortable sense of itching that had begun as it started to heal. Your eyes dip down to his neck. The scratches on his skin are still there, even if they’re less angry and jagged. You want to lick them. Mark up his neck again and kiss it better.

“You’re weak though. You should work out more.”

You clench your jaw, thoughts of him with any sense of longing being replaced by annoyance. “Right, because there’s so many gyms here. I’ll get on a treadmill next to a stalker.”

Joel’s lips stay in that infuriating, wolfish grin. “I train in the mornings. Don’t need equipment.”

Was that an…invitation?

“Right. I’ll make sure to train at night then.”

He rolls his eyes and huffs out a breath, but his lips still tug up at your joke. You smile at him before you can stop yourself, pride welling in you that he might find you funny. You feel your cheek strain, but you ignore the pang of pain. His eyes crease and for a split second, it seems like he’s going to smile back at you.

He doesn’t. His lips fall, and the lines deepen on his face as his brow furrows. He tilts his gaze back down to the gun, and the conversation doesn’t simply die- it shrivels and burns into ashes. Back to business.

You feel your stomach drop slightly, and anything in it curdle in a soup of shame. What was all that? Was that a pleasant conversation with Joel Miller? What the fuck were you thinking? Distance, you hiss to yourself. Distance is what you need, not sharing stories about your parents or crappy jokes to try and make him laugh.

‘M not gonna be your fucking friend.

That was what he said when you met him. That is what you wanted. You shouldn’t have been feeding into any possibility of something different.

You don’t talk again after that. He shows you how to hold the pistol, and you nod along. He makes you practise tucking it into your jeans, into your pack, and taking it out, over and over, quicker and quicker, each time thumbing the safety on and off, on and off. You don’t offer any words or answers, and your lips stay in a closed line. You don’t do any real shooting. It’s a waste of ammo, and ten shots wouldn’t be enough practice for you to be perfect anyway.

The sun is lowering by the time you finish. Not quite dark, but the grey dusk of late afternoon that is a harbinger of a storm. You shoulder your pack once more and set out, stepping away from the field.

Joel doesn’t walk ahead of you this time. He walks beside you, matching your pace. When you stubbornly slow down or quicken, he continues to mirror you in his long strides. He doesn’t talk to you though. He simply stays beside you, watching ahead.

You ignore him. If he wanted silence, then he could have it.

So what if you liked talking to him, so what if you liked that calm, quiet part of him more than the snapping, angry raider that everyone else knew, so what? You knew that nothing could come from this; knew that he was hotheaded and had to be partially insane to survive out here. You knew that being friends with Joel, or anything else for that matter, was not a possibility. Survival was all you had to be focused on.

You are still adamantly ignoring him when he grabs your elbow. You turn to him, already scoffing and preparing to break your vow of silence to tell him to fuck off when he tugs you closer. In just a few rushed steps, you’re in an alleyway, with your back pushed harshly to the brick wall. You open your mouth, once more ready to use expletives to ask him if he wants his balls kicked again when he firmly grips your lower face.

Your cheeks are smushed beneath his hand and you hiss in pain, feeling your torn, stitched cheek throb and bleed beneath its bandage. When you bare your teeth to bite him, he grips you tighter. You had lapsed in your comfortability around him; forgotten the real strength that he had, where he could crush you before you could even resist.

Your hand reaches up to his, and you dig your nails into the scabbed wound on the back of his hand. You dig in deeper and feel the wet of blood greet you. He still doesn’t let go of you.

“Stop.” He hisses through his teeth, leaning in closer to you with wide eyes. He jerks his head to the side, back to the street you were walking on.

You’re trying to tell him to eat a dick with your eyes, but your gaze snags on what he gestures to. There. At the entrance of the alleyway. Just shambling into view, dragging its feet. The sound of popcorn popping at the back of its throat.

Fuck.

You didn’t mean to inhale so sharply, but it turns its head so rapidly, looking straight at you. It has no face, no eyes, nothing to reconcile its lost humanity with. Fungi bloom from its skull, and its skin is torn, bloodied and thin. Clothes, or the worn remnants of them, hang off its body. It takes a step closer, letting out a shriek of a dying cat.

Run. RUN. RUN!

Joel presses himself to you, his pelvis against your lower stomach, and you realise you’re shaking. His body crushes into yours, and you feel yourself squished between him and the wall. He keeps you still and upright. His other hand pins at your waist, holding you steady to the wall. You let him support your weight, afraid that if you try to balance yourself you’ll accidentally scuff your shoes to the ground. You grip his bloodied hand tighter, squeezing onto it; not trying to make him let go of you anymore, but begging him not to.

You think of the gun, tucked into your waistband. Still with no magazine. Fuck. There was no way you had the skills nor expertise to quietly and efficiently lock it back in place. And Joel’s gun was tucked into the back waistband of his jeans, snug to his spine.

The clicker steps closer, and it tilts its head, trying to pin the sound it had heard. It screeches again.

You think of your brother. Dragging you through the QZ's perimeter when flames had consumed buildings in the riot. Not letting you trip or stumble, but always keeping a firm grip on your arm and tugging you on. On towards the rest of the city, towards the train lines that would take you somewhere better, somewhere safer, somewhere where your mother wasn’t lying dead in her shit hole apartment and where your other siblings weren’t strung up by revolutionaries and where you still had a home to return to. Head East. Head East and start again and when everything was alright, when everything was normal, grieve and mourn and cry. But for now, just head East.

He didn’t make it to the train lines.

Didn’t make it past the goddamn library you had stepped in, just to rest, just to let your feet stop for a second, just to sit down and eat something. That same crackling popping was what you heard before he was suddenly on his back, his chest being ripped into, his flesh being shredded, his neck being torn like pieces of mache. His knife is quickly thrown to you. His screams, his guttural voice yelling at you to Run. Run! RUN!

You’re going to die.

Your other hand slips down, to Joel’s lower back. If you can grab the gun, get it out from beneath his jacket and jeans without making a sound, maybe you stand a chance. Your fingers press against the gun beneath the layers of fabric, feeling it there.

Joel tenses, and turns to face you. He shakes his head softly, and his eyes have a clear message. No.

You shake your head with a minuscule amount of movement, still clutched tightly in his hand. You have to. At least try.

Your fingers begin to fumble at his back, searching silently for the edge of his jacket. They’re shaking. The fabric rustles slightly and you feel your blood run cold.

Fuck. You’re going to die, with two guns in arms reach. You’re going to die with your brother’s knife tucked into your pack. You’re going to die. Fuck.

A bird caws somewhere, and the clicker turns. You stare at it from the corner of your eye, and you can’t tell if you’re still breathing.

The sound of flapping wings and high-pitched hissing. A fight between crows.

The clicker drags its feet, and screeches, loud and piercing; so loud you would think it’s right beside your ear, tunneling into your skull and engraving into your brain. You stop looking at it, shaking even more. You’re going to die. You’re going to die, staring at Joel. His eyes are trained on the clicker. That same furrow in his brow. You feel something bloom inside of you when he shifts his weight, and you’re suddenly hidden from view, tucked behind him and against the wall; protected.

The shuffle of dragging feet rips your gaze back to the side. You can barely make out anything over Joel’s shoulder and he shifts impossibly closer to you, exposing his back to the infected and tucking you into him. The jacket’s zipper digs into your skin through your clothes and you think if you could control the panicked tilt of your breath, you might be able to hear his heart beating in his chest.

The clicker moves, and if you could move, you would bury your face into Joel. Instead, you watch, a notch caught in your throat and tears stinging your eyes. It was going to turn and hear you breathing and it was going to shred you to pieces. Tear into your chest. Eat your heart. Your blood runs cold and fear pins you in place. You’re going to die.

But…it shambles back out of the alleyway. Into the street. The clicker continues before the brick wall obscures your sight and you no longer see it.

You can’t believe it. You’re not sure if you should.

Joel drops his hand from your face, and your cheeks throb with the sudden loss of pressure. You feel blood dribble onto the gauze tapped to your face and begin dripping down to your chin. Your hand follows his, still gripping it. He’s still pressed against you.

He turns his gaze back to you, swallowing and chest moving heavily.

“Fuck.” He whispers, and if anything he leans his head in closer to you.

You don’t, can’t, form any words, instead letting out a wrecked, relieved sigh that bubbles out with a quiet laugh.

He leans closer, and you look up at him, trying to hold back the tears welling in your eyes. His dark eyes bore into yours, his breath fans across your face. It fades- the fear, the alleyway, the clicker that is a block away already. It’s only his ragged breathing, the loud pulse of your blood in your ears, the feeling of his hips pressed so tightly against you, the bricks digging into your shoulders, his hand still at your waist gripping you like he doesn’t know how to let go.

“Fuck.” He says again, this time barely audible. A ghost of a word.

His head dips closer, angling to the side and you don’t know what to do when his lips press against yours. You don’t know your name, don’t know your body, all you know is that his lips are warm his beard scratches against your chin and the hand at your waist squeezes even tighter.

Your hand at his back grips his jacket as if you need even more support to stay on your feet. His tongue swipes out, licking against your lower lip. The fear that was chilling you to your core is replaced by something fiery and hot that warms you instantly. Adrenaline courses through your bones and your mind feels fuzzy and warm, and there’s not one cohesive thought other than Oh my god he’s kissing me. After what feels like an eternity of stillness, your brain kicks into gear and you kiss him back, pushing yourself against him even more; feeling his broad chest against yours, his shoulders hunching over as he deepens the kiss, his leg stepping in between yours. His other hand reaches around you, tugging you closer to him and pressing firmly to you. It’s a tangle of heated breaths and a whiny sound from the back of your throat and a deep rumbling from him and all you can feel, all you can taste, all you can think is Joel, Joel, Joel.

He bites against your lip, drawing it between his teeth and everything feels natural; this was the same as anything else the two of you had done. He was pushing and teasing with each swipe of his tongue and movement of his lips, and you were biting back and giving him all you had.

When you break apart, you’re not sure you know exactly what just happened. You knew about kisses, sure. Knew that two people were supposed to put their lips together and feel butterflies. Whatever this was, was not that. This was crushing exhausting and exhilarating. This was not a fairytale kiss from a prince but something that was raw celebrating and terrifying.

Your eyes dip down to his lips, and you like the plump, blushed look they’ve gained. Your blood is smeared slightly across his cheek, through his bead; he doesn’t reach up to wipe it away. Your face is aflame and you look up at him. He’s looking down at you, breathing somehow more ragged than before, and his gaze is heavy, consuming and pinning you in place. Again, you wonder what he sees when he looks into your eyes.

You see the shift even before he pulls back from you.

‘M not gonna be your fucking friend.

“Don’t.” You say, and you hate how pleading it sounds, how pathetic.

He swallows, and unwraps his hands from you, untangles himself from you and steps back. Your hands fall from him, hanging limply by your side.

You shake your head, and the tears are back once more, threatening to spill over. You don’t allow them to. You are not going to cry in front of Joel Miller. Not because of something as stupid, as immature as a kiss that he immediately regretted. You are not going to do that. You swallow past the notch in your throat, you replace the quiver of your lip with a straight line, and you tense your eyes into a hard glare.

He watches you, only a metre away but feeling a million miles from you. He bites his lip, and his face is hardened, and worn.

“We-,” He clears his throat with a deep cough. “I shouldn’t have-”

You huff out a laugh. “Fuck off.”

His jaw ticks. “Watch it.”

“Fuck. Off.” You shake your head, pushing off from the brick wall, straightening yourself, trying to be every bit as big and intimidating as you can be. “You don’t get to play me like that, Joel.”

He opens his mouth to rebut, but you step closer, cutting him off. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to be a dick,” Another step closer, “An arsehole,” Another, “A fucking prick and then do that!”

You shove against his chest and he doesn’t step back; a reminder that he was stronger, that you were not, and that he was the one consistently who called the shots. The one who decided if you kept kissing, if you talked more, if you lived. He looks down at you with…sadness? Regret? It vanishes quickly, whatever it is, and is replaced with a hard, blank face.

You shove against him again, angry and with as much force as you can muster to bruise him, and this time his hands whip up, grabbing yours and pinning them to his chest. He leans closer, growling.

“Stop.”

You glare up at him, seething, digging your fingernails into his chest. “I hate you.”

“No, ya don’t.”

He smiles, but there is no kindness; all just self-assured cockiness. You gouge your fingers in, practically begging him for a reaction; a wince, a hiss, a cry, anything to show that you had any sort of effect on him.

Your nostrils flare, and you spit. “You are the most temperamental and psychotic person I’ve met. One minute you’re threatening me and shooting people, and the next you’re,” You glare at him, throwing his own words in his face. “Trying to get in my pants.“

“You think you’re some peach?” He snarls, canines showing. “All you fucking do is run your mouth. Where’s that gonna getcha? Do you want me to hate you?”

You laugh, you laugh right in his fucking face. “You’re trying to say you don’t? Everything you do is about keeping people under your boot. Making sure I don’t fuck up. Making sure Tommy doesn’t run off because he hates your fucking-”

Suddenly you’re back against the wall, and it happens so fast you get whiplash. He leans closer, snarling.

“Don’t fucking talk about Tommy.”

“You know. You know that he’s not happy here.”

Joel’s jaw ticks, locked heavily in place. He shakes his head, rearing in closer to you. “Newsflash- I don’t give a shit if he’s happy. If I’m keeping him alive, that’s all that matters. Stay out of it.”

“I hate you.” The words come out quieter than you thought but still laced with venom.

“I’m not a big fucking fan of you either, Dollface.” He spits the name like it burns his tongue.

“Sure seemed like it a minute ago. Miller.”

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He blinks, and his brow hunches, but he still doesn’t know what to say, seemingly lost for words. Everything that swarms between the two of you, your shared breaths, your heat, your anger and ire is tense and rigid. And then his gaze flicks down, to your snarling lips. And everything on his face melts for a second, and he’s leaning closer, and tilting his head to the side and then his mouth is on yours and his hatred is in every swipe of his tongue and his annoyance is in every bite to your lip and his ire is in every movement of his mouth and you can’t breathe and you’re kissing him back like it’s the last thing you’ll do and again it’s JoelJoelJoelJoel-

You pull your head back.

“Go fuck yourself.” Your voice sounds more wrecked than you let it be

You wrench your hands out from under his, hating how he was able to cover them completely, hating that he could have stopped you if he wanted to, hating that he didn’t. You shove him back and barge past him. You boil with anger and you think that right now if the clicker showed its face, you would be the one sinking your teeth into its skin and tearing its flesh apart.

You don’t bother looking back to see if he follows you. You just turn onto the street and walk back in the direction of the church.

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us fanfic #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic

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momo-de-avis · 26 days

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Is anyone else's break completely broken when it comes to, how do I put this, established knowledge that involves two things? I mean the "I keep forgetting what's left and what's right and have to do the L thing with my hand to know what's left" (yes even though that works in english but not in PT, but I need SOMETHING). That thing. But it doesn't end there. I can never remember if the sun rises east or west so EVERY TIME I have to think "we always have sunsets at the beach" to remember it's east. And on that note, to remember where's east and where's west I have to fall back to an old children's mnemonic we learnt at school (O para Oceano - Oeste; E para Espanha - Este) its fucking ridiculous and pisses me off

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nrdmssgs · 1 day

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Serpent tongue

Masterlist Genre: Angst with a happy ending. Characters: Sebastian Krueger, Phayvanh "Nak" Sotsvahn belongs to @vasyandii, Olga 'Zhar" Samoilova TWs: strong language, description of military operation, canon typical violence AN: this is set somwhere arond the begining of Nak and Kruegers interactions, so they are a bit silly around each other. But I promise, they will be in love soon-ish.

“phai bo non maew, si kad kaem.*” Words roll down Phayvanh`s tongue and echoe in the empty, dark hall.

Even if there are any other soldiers around at this late hour - they'll know better than to bother her. Because she's deep inside her thoughts - she's humming and mumbling the words, obscure to their ears. Her very own cantrips to keep others away, her mnemonic spells to help her with the routine. So what if it's just a lullaby? As long as it helps her shut her brain off and run the preparations mechanically…

“phai bo aem, kai noi tod taa.*” On this verse she always checks the flashlights before attaching them to her vest.

Click. The strobe flashlight works perfectly.

“phai bo aem…”

Click. The spare flashlight Illuminates Krueger's face in the semi-darkness.

Phayvanh doesn't flinch nor shriek from the suddenness of him appearing just a few meters behind. She turns off the light and watches Sebastian face.

Pathetic fucker had his own share of humiliation today, much to Nak's enjoyment. Oh, how cocky he was all the way to Zhar's office. Only to get dismissed at the very beginning of a debrief. “I'm not coming, but the baby is?” - Krueger's outburst was so loud, it seemed like the whole base would hear that: “What is that she can, and I don't?!”. Zhar didn't even raise her gaze from the documents, she was checking before the meeting start. But when she answered, Nak had to bite her cheeks to not grin victoriously. “The list would be long, Sebastian, but it would start with the fact, that Nak can obviously read the list of soldiers, I called for this debriefing. The list that contained her, and didn't contain you. Now stand up.” That was the first time she looked up since they gathered around her desk. “And leave my office. I have soldiers to prepare for the mission.”

And just like that the notorious ‘golden boy’, ‘Zhars favorite’, ‘the faceless Chimera’ was shown his place. So it was only natural for him to come mock Phayvanh later, when the audience is not that big.

“Serpent tongue!” His idiotic smile doesn't bode well.

“Going straight for racism this time, moron?” Nak feels almost disappointed about how plain Krueger's attack is. Even calling her little baby hit harder than this bullshit.

“No, I… Wait-wait!” He jumps closer to the table, where she prepares her tactical vest to not get lost from her gaze. “I meant it in a good way! Like these Lao letters, they look like little snakes! I looked it up and there is that one like a confused snake, another one like a happy snake, a bunch of letters with a snake that looks at its own tail. They are lovely.”

Since when this idiot has an interest for Lao alphabet?

“What you're gonna say, I'm seeing shit? C`mon, admit it, your letters are beautiful, but it's easy to memorize them when you think of them as little snakes. Serpent tongue.” He looks so proud, as if he just solved one of Landaus problems, not invented some nonsense.

“Gonna say, that a confused snake, watching his own tail, has more brainpower than you.” Phayvanh goes back to preparation routine, trying to ignore Krueger, who seems to not be in a hurry to leave her alone.

They spend a few long minutes in silence, which is a good thing for Nak. She's not ready for questions like ‘why don't you sleep before the important mission?’, ‘is it really just a preparation, or are nervously fidgeting your own equipment?’, ‘are you afraid to turn out worse than me?’. Krueger takes a step to the desk and start helping her arrange all the essentials. She tolerates it, but everything has its limits. Phayvanhs patience cracks when Sebastian reaches out to one of her push daggers. Her hand is quicker, her smooth movements are more precise, and the blade freezes only in mere centimeters away from a vein pulsing on Kruegers neck. A bold hint, but quite a clear one.

“I just wanted to help.” He raises hands in a surrendering gesture. “Olga likely threw a ton of timings, plans, routes and whatsoever at you. The first time with her is overwhelming, I know. There must be a few ‘tiers’ of action plans for each of you, right?”

Nak doesn't lower her dagger, but nods. There were, indeed, different plans for each step of her part in the mission. She didn't quite catch, why would she need a plan B, С and so on. She either does her job or dies trying - that was always how it went.

“Listen, if anything goes south - just don't hesitate and go straight to the plan B, ok? Forget commander's bullshit about top-tier goals and minimum goals. She always gets what she needs in the end and that is her ‘least satisfied’ plan. Always. So you worry about yourself, ok? Not the goal or plan A.”

Phayvanh doesn't believe her ears. So the golden boy doesn't always hit the top goal? That spoiled brat that dares calling her a baby, turns into a loser, once he's given freedom to operate on any level besides perfect? Oh, he didn't actually hear the real Serpents tongue. The one that pushes her to the limits, demands no less than perfection, accepts no excuses. Krueger wouldn't last a week with that voice ringing in his ears.

“There are either perfect results or no results.” Nak is kind enough to tell this in English, so Krueger understands one of the basis principles, that the Serpent once taught her.

***

The mission under Zhars command feels different from what is going on, when Nikolai is around. With him It's always about what you do in the end. But with his second in command, it's about how you do it.

Naks route is planned to the last meter, her timing has limits of steel - not only can't she fall behind - she will ruin everything, should she appear at her next point too soon. She gets a good reminder, when the street, she is supposed to enter 10 minutes later is being turned into a bloodbath with a drone squadron just before her eyes. Phayvanh hides around the corner of a building and swears while checking her watch.

“Perfect result or no result.” A too familiar voice sounds in her head. But she ignores it.

It works for some time. Nak follows the path of fire, the path paved by other Chimeras and brings death to her objectives. Plan A works so well - they are never prepared to meet her.

It almost feels too easy, until it doesn't. One of them turns out too massive, too full of life, too stubborn. One second Phayvanh has him in her hands, the other she's drowning in a muddy puddle with his hands pushing her deeper. She knows, this is not the end of her: Nak had a fair share of similar situations, both on the field and at the training. It takes just a little patience and dexterity to turn the fight upside down. After all, it's him trying to balance in a sloppy mud. She tries to wiggle her way out of his clasp… and fails. Her body freezes struck by a terrifying flashback.

“Perfect result or no result!” Nagas voice. She was here already. Face pushed deep in filthy water, subtle teenage body struggling to break free from old man's grip.

He was shouting at her. Every time she dared to deliver anything but the perfect result - there was a punishment to come. And there were screams. Not her - Naga made sure, she couldn't even breathe. He was the one screaming.

“Perfect result or no result!”

She hates this voice for keeping her awake before the mission, for destroying her every time anyone refers to her as a child, for drowning her mind in terror. The reals Serpents tongue is made of pain, humiliation and endless requirements, that she doesn't fulfill. Not of ‘funny snaky letters’, Sebastian was babbling about.

Nak gathers all her strength, every part of her body feels like a coiled spring waiting to set loose. And she snaps. The poor fucker believed, he had her. Well his mistake. Because now Phayvanh is on top, and she doesn't even need a knife to end his pathetic life.

Strangling him with her bare hands, she shouts “shut up” on and on. As if the voice taunting her doesn't echo just in her mind. It feels like forever before he stops struggling. But when she lets go of him - a barely audible breath leaves his chest.

It drives her mad. After all she's done - he has an audacity to live on? So she hits face. Hard. And then again. And again.

She snaps out of it only, when a familiar voice appears behind her. “Nak? You're hurt?” Phayvanh turns back and meets Zhars gaze.

“Komandir? Ya seichas… Ya. Ya s nim razberus`!*” For some reason Nak answered in Russian despite Olga rarely using it.

“He's long gone, soldier.” Zhar glances at the guy lying on the ground under Nak and Phayvanh follows her gaze.

Her enemy has no recognizable face anymore, the puddle of mud, he's buried in turns red. His body gave up a long time ago, but Nak was too blinded by painful memories to recognize it.

An unsettling thought appears in Naks head. How long has she spent here over the dead body? She checks her watches and frowns. Too long. She's supposed to be elsewhere a long time ago.

“Go, Nak. Skip your next point, you're on route B now.” Zhar doesn't raise her voice - she never does. But this time Phayvanh wishes she would.

“Perfect result or no result.”

That only means one thing - she failed. And she deserves to be screamed at. She desperately tries to fight the numbness off, but can't even make herself get up.

Better shout at her. She's used to it.

Olga touches her shoulder and Nak flinches. She remembers only Zhars eyes moving closer and a few words in a low voice.

“Get up and go. Now.”

She stands up and doesn't go away - she flies as far as she can. Phayvanh runs as fast as she can, as if that can help her escape the guilt building up. Her body accomplishes the plan B automatically. Point after point, objective after objective.

She is restless on their way back, she barely reacts to her squadmates questions and commentaries. Even at the Chimera base, Nak can't seem to slow down and keeps herself occupied until late night.

***

“phai bo non maew, si kad kaem.*” Words roll down Phayvanh`s tongue and echo in the empty, dark hall. A wet mop draws intricate wet patterns on the floor.

It was nobody's order - Phayvanh just couldn't calm down. So she rearranged all her stuff. Twice. And then she tidied up their armory room. And another one. And then she mopped.

It's a good thing, Nikolai's base is so huge - lots to do in the middle of the night, while others sleep.

“phai bo aem, kai noi tod taa.*” On this verse she usually enters ladies locker room, when she mops.

Click. The light turns on, illuminating the seemingly clean floor. Well, an extra cleaning never hurt nobody…

“Potushi svet, ya tebya umolyaiu.*” Olgas voice. Only it sounds husky and tired, as if she was crying or coughing for a long time.

Nak turns and sees her, sitting on the floor. The ever so serious, busy, on-her-way-somewhere-else commander curled up against a wall like a lost child. Zhars face is red, closed eyes swollen, cheeks wet.

Phayvanh rushes on her knees, pushing the mop away and proceeds straight to inspecting Olgas body, searching for a wound. But her commander only smiles.

“Phay, it's only the tear gas.”

“But… It's been-”

“You live to my age - you'll wonder, how could your body come back to normal so fast back when you were 20. Now please turn out that light.”

Nak does as she told and comes back to sit before Olga. She doesn't care if by doing so she'll provoke her executive to get angry at her.

“I'm not leaving you here, commander. Let's get you to the medbay.” She takes Zhars hand and tries to pull her, but Olga doesn't move.

“I am fine. Just need to sit here for a bit, let my eyes rest.” Zhar stretches her back and reaches out into the void before her, blindlessly searching for Nak. “Stay with me for a bit, ok?”

“I don't understand.” Phayvanh moves closer and catches Olgas hand, letting her know, shes not leaving. “What are you doing here? You have your office.”

“And you have your room, soldier.” Smile never leaves Zhars face. “Yet here we are.”

They sit next to each other in silence for some time. Naks eyes get used to a dim emergency exit light that barely illuminates a small part of the locker room. And then Olga speaks again, as if there was no pause.

“I come here for them.” She points at an old dusty mirror, taken from the wall long before Nak joined the Chimera. One can barely recognize their reflection in the mirror - it is too dirty. “If you find just the right angle and look long enough - you will see your legs, your chest and arms, but not your face. When you sit right - yours hidden in the shadow. I like to imagine - I'm seeing everything, that's wrong with me in these moments. Everybody, who wronged me. And then we talk.”

Nak tries to catch a glimpse of any reflection in the mirror, but barely sees anything. So she leans closer and cranes his neck.

“See a familiar face?” Zhars hand rests on Phayvanhs back. Usually Nak would avoid any informal physical contact, but this time it feels right, to let Olga know, she isn't alone.

“...nope, I see nobody, ma`am.”

“Nobody punished you for aiming anywhere but the ideal?” Now that's a sucker punch. A deserved one, as Naks confusion was painfully obvious to her commander today. But it still hits hard. So she nods.

“I'll do better next-”

“No. After what they have done to you - this is what you're telling them?”

“Commander, I'm telling that you.”

“Fuck me, Phay. I'm a hired soldier, just like you. One word from Nikolai and I won’t be here tomorrow. Krueger will throw a tantrum, but…” Zhar chuckles. “Talk to them. This isn't about me.”

Naks looks in the darkening void of the mirror and sighs. She doesnt even know, where to start, to not sound immature and lose her job right away.

“Let me put the other way: think of what the would tell you right now.”

That Nak knows for sure. Even if Naga is nowhere around - she always knows what exactly would he say.

“Hed ask me if im going to cry.”

“We can cry, Phay. Ive been doing it for past few hours. Well, because of dry eyes, but that still counts.”

“Oh, I won't cry. Not for him. Never.” Nak can't take her eyes of the mirror. The view is somehow mesmerizing: she sees her body, but her face remains in the shadow.

For a split second she thinks, if she should speak in Lao. Nobody in Chimera talks it. She is safe to say whatever, she wants. But then she thinks, that this is exactly what Naga would want: her keeping her pain all to herself. So that his serpent tongue can torture her soul unbothered.

She takes a deep breath and begins to speak.

“Well maybe I should be thanking you. You prepared me for all this shit at a young age. Comrades selling me lies, people betraying me, friends seeing me as just a kid. The next time id pour some love out - ill never get back a single drop of it. You prepared me for that. And for always being not enough. You did it out of the best intentions, I know. You prepared me for the worst in my life. By being it.”

The silence, that falls on her after that, is deafening. But for some reason, Nak feels better for the first time since she came back to senses on the battlefield.

Then she feels hands, someones hands hugging her shoulders. There are no words left for this room or this mirror today. But this wordlessness is a happy thing.

*phai bo non maew, si kad kaem. - (Lao phonetic) If you don't sleep, ghost cats will bite your cheeks.

*phai bo aem, kai noi tod taa - (Lao phonetic) If you don't shut your eyes, tiny chicks will peck them.

*Komandir? Ya seichas… Ya. Ya s nim razberus`! - (Russian phonetic) Commander? I'm going to… I. I'm going to deal with him!

*Potushi svet, ya tebya umolyaiu. - (Russian phonetic) turn off the light, I beg you.

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copiousloverofcopia · 8 months

Note

Hello there! I hope you're doing more than well!

I was just wondering about one thing. Imagine, a Papa's child approaches to them in tears. Of course, it's a horrible situation and Papa even ready to commit a crime, but then it turns out that the reason of their child's tears is a really complicated homework. The kid was so stressed out so they burst in tears and came to their Papa for help. Their PM is nowhere to be seen, so Papa has to calm down their kid and help with the homework. How would they do that?

Hey there! I am actually just getting over a respiratory virus but doing better thank you and I hope you too are well!

I apologize it has taken me so long to get to some of these asks lol but here we go...

Primo

Primo's concern quickly turns to compassion and he handles it with the upmost grace. He pulls his kid in close and hugs them, telling them it will be alright. He will work it through with them, after all he was a wonderful student.

"It's alright piccolo, you remember the Mnemonic, si?"

Secondo

He is fuming, ready to throw hands and make someone meet Lucifer earlier than expected...until he finds out its homework... After he calmed his child, and himself, down by having them both take a deep breath and sit, he would explain to them that there was no need to panic. Secondo would help them work through the homework problems, while having to call off the hit he almost sent his ghouls out on before anyone noticed.

"See now that you're calm, we can look at this again..." (calls off ghouls)

Terzo

Terzo is thrilled when its nothing serious, but immediately goes on the hunt for his PM. He was never one for school and well when it comes to his kid...he knows how to make them, not educate them. j/k.

"Oh...it's just chemistry homework? I ah...that is not the kind of chemistry I am familiar with figlio, let's go find your mother."

Copia

PANIC. Full blown chaos. Oh, it's not serious, just an essay...more panic! Copia is always worried he won't do something right and so both him and his kiddo would be holding on to each other for comfort until his PM walks in and has to take over lol.

"Honestly cara, what would we do without you?"

Hope that works! 💗

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420thewritersroom · 4 months

Text

Thunderstorms in Spring

~Welp, just as fast as I posted that first installment, now we have a second one! I didn't expect everyone to like the first one so much, and I wanna thank you guys for your loving words! And the previous piece honestly gave me so much work to go off on that I decided to continue with a sequel (will this become a possible series, idk, but there's a second one now, so who knows).~

~I, once again, want to thanks the artists in this community who made their pieces of White Haired!Raiden and contributed to the whole "Oops, Kung Lao's Dead Again" AU, you can find them credited in the previous post since I don't want to annoy them with constantly tagging them whenever I make another installment with this series lol.~

~Before we continue just wanted to put some mild context to ensure this makes sense. Fire God Liu Kang starts getting deja vu as certain coincidences and events start playing out that are too eerily similar to how things played out during the MK9 game. All roads were seemingly leading to Kung Lao dying in his timeline, and Liu Kang struggled with how to cope and deal with this. On one hand, he did not want his friend-…His new teacher…To die, especially since he tried so hard to tailor-make this timeline to ensure everyone got a happy ending.

Yet, at the same time, he refused to stoop down to Kronika's level and start altering the timeline until it was his "perfect" utopia. However, his fears and suspicion about the situation become even more realized when Raiden gets gravely injured, and the only thing that prevented him from kneeling over was the thunder amulet infused with his person (and some other magical shit, idk). From this, Raiden gains his iconic white hair, and this gives Liu Kang a heart attack. To make a long story short, Kung Lao ends up dying at the hands of the villains, Raiden is going through the stages of grief, but he's going down the same dark path as the previous Raiden, now becoming Dark Raiden. And Liu Kang has to finally interfere.~

Still confused? Too late, now on to the story!

Previous // Next

Characters: Raiden, Raiden's Sister (Fuji), Johnny Cage, Kenshi, Mentions of Kung Lao, Liu Kang, Madam Bo, and Jax

Word Count - 8,001 (wow!)

Ships: Johnny/Kenshi - Past Raiden/Kung Lao

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence (with less blood), Heavy Talks About Character Death

~The Netherrealms - Undisclosed time and place~

Sulfur, ash, smoke, burning stone, and landscapes; the smell of the Netherrealm. Although Raiden's memories are fuzzy at best and nonexistent at worst, he remembers this in near clarity. His vision presents him looking up at the hellish sky as if he's lying down on the ground. He remembers not moving; it's too painful to move. He remembers breathing heavily. Is it because of the suffocating air of the Netherrealms? Or perhaps because of the blinding pain that Raiden remembers experiencing.

He can remember not just hissing and groaning in pain but screaming and writhing-silently begging for it to end. In this mnemonic dream, everything was selective when it came to what he saw, heard, smelled, and tasted. For taste, he can taste the iron of his own blood mixed in with something foul. Could it be the rancid air or the fact that this mixture almost tasted like poison?

His hearing in this dream is quite literally selective. Some people sounded horribly muffled, requiring Raiden to strain his ears to hear them. Others, he could perceive with great clarity, and then there were those he could not hear at all, their lips moving with no audible sound. Then there was his sight. Like the other senses, Raiden was faced with blurred faces, some only possessing one discernable feature, such as their eyes, nose, mouths, ears, hair, etc. Others were completely faceless to Raiden, with only their speech or smell being the one thing Raiden could cling to.

But what often overrode all these senses was the overwhelming pain he felt at this moment. Three figures stood above him. One was featureless; the only distinguishing aspect of this entity was that they were female-presenting as their speech sounded feminine, but it was horribly dimmed. Another figure was only distinguishable thanks to the glowing eyes they possessed and distinct dragon tattoos that crawled up their arms. If Raiden concentrates, he can maybe recollect what this individual is saying, but this pain prevents him from doing so.

Then there was Kung Lao. Deadass, just his long-time best friend, Kung Lao. Out of all the figures in front of Raiden in this instance, Kung Lao-he could see and hear with such perspicuity. Kung Lao stood beside the lying Raiden, tears in his eyes, slurring his speech, holding tightly to the thunder wielders' shaking hand.

"It's ok, Raiden! It's ok, you're going to be ok!" Kung Lao sobbed, trying, but failing, to smile at Raiden despite his tears actively gracing Raiden's face.

Raiden doesn't remember if he said anything back to him. His sight throughout this scene remained on his friend…At least, he thinks they're friends. There's a foreign feeling that encompasses him whenever he looks at Lao, and it's an overwhelming sense of love. And, I mean, people can definitely love their best friends. He and Kung Lao had known each other since they were children. Lao was a reckless, poor kid, and Raiden was a boy from a well-off family. Despite their class differences, they saw something likable about the other. But this love was more than just having a natural affinity for someone he's known all his life.

This felt…Stronger? Louder? Raiden doesn't know how to describe it. If it wasn't for the pain, Raiden would get lost in Kung Lao's chocolate eyes. He would untie his short ponytail and play with his hair before readjusting his look. Raiden notices little details about his friend that others might not have picked up on. Like his dimples when he smiles, even under such stressful circumstances, the way his face piercings adds to his cocky personality, and his undercut brings back fond memories of the pair trying to learn how to cut his hair which ended disastrously. Raiden wanted…To kiss him dearly…

And just like how Raiden held his perspective on Lao, Kung Lao hasn't torn away his gaze on Raiden, spitting out promises of what they will do together once Raiden was right as rain in rapid fire. What ended up redirecting Kung Lao's attention was when the figure with the glowing eyes was mumbling something.

"What?" Kung Lao snaps his head over to the tattooed figure with hopeful confusion on his face.

This tattooed individual, Raiden could not understand fully. However, he was able to catch on to some words: Amulet, Raiden, Entity, and Consequences. The fully faceless being, who was also present, gestures as if they're conversing with the pair - but Raiden cannot hear their input on the matter.

"I don't care how you do it! I…I just want him to survive! Please, Liu! Save him! Save Raiden!" Kung Lao cries, holding onto Raiden's hand like his life depended on it. As if, if he didn't clutch onto Raiden, he would lose him forever.

The tattooed individual holds their gaze toward Kung Lao, their silence and body language hinting that they were…Uneased and uncertain. The tattooed looks at the feminine figure and nods, saying something in the mumbled jargon they spoke. But the three individuals in front of Raiden were all in agreement. They were going to save him. He was going to survive this…Somehow.

Kung Lao focuses back on Raiden, smiling at his downed friend. "Look at me. Look at me, Raiden. You're going to be alright! Liu is gonna help ya. You…" Kung Lao looks Raiden over, primarily where his stomach is. Why was he looking there? "You're going to be alright. I love you. I love you so much, and I'm not going to let you die, ok?"

Raiden feels his heart flutter as if Kung Lao said something that would've usually made the thunder wielder swoon. But what was it? Despite being able to understand everything Kung Lao was telling him, his dream censored him; twice it did. Raiden feels something swell within him, this desire to respond to Kung Lao. Words at the tip of his tongue that he wanted to get out.

But then the pain gets worse. A LOT worse. His body was on fire as if electricity was coursing through his body. Raiden screams, making sounds that one would not think a human could make. He writhes, so much so that he feels someone holding him down. He remembers wanting it to stop; that dying was a better alternative than enduring this much pain.

Raiden jolts awake, sitting upright, sweaty, and breathing heavily. His eyes roam about his room, taking stock of what's around him. It was just a dream. He's in his room, in his bed. Not in…That hellish place…Whatever that was. Yet, he's not calming down. It felt real, too real. The pain, the heat, the people talking to him. It was as if he experienced it before, and there was a part of himself that felt like it was factual. But it was so…Surreal…

"Ugh! Aaah!" Raiden clutches his stomach, where his lower and upper body meet. It's happening again.

He can feel static dancing off his person in painful waves, coursing through his body from his stomach. He doubles over as he clutches his stomach in a hugging position. He can feel it wanting to get out again, this strange, unknown power, as it swells in electric prowess, begging to be let out.

"Raiden? Raiden!" Fuji's voice sounds distant, yet tangible, as she rushes to her brother's side. "Raiden, what's wrong? Is it happening aga-ah!" Fuji feels a jolt of electricity shock her, and she pulls away from touching her brother.

Raiden hisses through the growing pain, "Y-yes, it's happening again! It's stronger this time!"

"Come on, let's get you outside!" Fuji says in a hurried tone as she quickly dresses herself in whatever she can get her hands on in her brother's room.

Raiden groans as he tries to remove himself from his bed (something he kinda doesn't want to do right now) but ends up rolling off the mattress onto the floor with an audible grunt. Fuji is quick to Raiden's side again and helps him up with all her strength. Despite having a sleeper build in terms of muscularity and being leanly built, he was heavy to carry and drag around for someone of her strength and stature.

"Come on, come on, let's go, Raiden! We're almost to the door; let's go!" Fuji tries to encourage her brother.

"I-I'm trying, Ji. It hurts!" Raiden whines.

They both get past the front door and rush to hop onto Fuji's motorbike (she saved up ALOT of money to get this baby). She revs the engine and speeds away down the road, biking to a remote area so that her brother can let out…Whatever the fuck is going on with him.

"We're almost out of here, Raiden! Just give me-HOLY SHIT!"

Suddenly, an arc of lightning strikes the ground, deadly close to them. It's only now that Fuji notices that the night cloudy skies above were crackling with thunder and lightning (fortunately, no rain…Yet…).

"Raiden, control yourself! Just give me 2 minutes! AAH!" Fuji dodges a lightning strike that landed 3 seconds ahead of them.

"I'M TRYING!" Raiden shouts in pain, his hair and eyes glowing intensely as the power of the amulet strengthens. Throughout the trip, Raiden KNOWS that he was unintentionally shocking his sister, the poor farm boy constantly apologizing as he tries to reign in the energies coming off him.

Fuji is able to bob & weave around the constant lightning strikes and endure the shocks her brother kept giving her, just enough to reach not just the outskirts of the village but into the remote parts outside their settlement. Once they were a good 15 minutes away from Fengjian, Fuji slows down to park her bike, but this would nearly cost her. As they were about to stop, another strike of lightning hits them from behind, kicking up dirt, debris, and their bike. The motorbike ends up being tipped forward forcefully, sending the siblings flying.

"AAAAHHH!" Fuji screams as she soars above the ground before crashlanding into the tall grass nearby. Although she didn't gain that much air, thanks to her slowing down not too long ago, she still felt her ears ringing and her head and muscles aching. She makes sharp gasps as she slightly rolls in pain.

"Damnit, Raiden," Fuji hisses. "Fuck, Raiden! Raiden?" Fuji picks herself up, almost losing her footing, as she frantically looks for her older brother.

The sounds of her brother screaming gave her an idea of where he was at. He wasn't too far from her. Fuji could see lighting bouncing off his person as he was in the fetal position. As Fuji was attempting to approach him, Raiden yelled out to her, "DON'T COME ANY CLOSER!"

Fuji immediately stops in her tracks, watching her brother uselessly as he suffered. Ever since he came back home a year and a half ago, ever since Liu Kang dropped her brother off at their family home, he's had these strange abilities. But nothing like this. It has never gotten this bad! It's gotten out of control. Whatever's happening to Raiden, it's trying to get out. Fuji anxiously scours through her brain as she considers WHAT she can do to help her brother that she hasn't done before. But…BUT WHAT THE FUCK WOULD ANYONE DO IN THIS SITUATION!?! Her brother is becoming a malfunctioning transmission tower! No amount of guidance from their parents, friends, workmates, or even TikTok inspiration posts could prepare her to handle this!

There is one thing she notices about her brother in this situation. It's almost as if he's trying to hold back whatever this electrifying beast is. This gives her an idea.

"R-Raiden! Raiden, you need to let go! You can't keep holding back…Whatever this is!" Fuji shouts as loud as she can, the raging thunder clouds, cracks of lightning, and howling wind overpowering her voice.

"NO!" Raiden screams in response, fear heavily apparent in his tone. "I-FUCK-I'LL HURT YOU! LIKE LAST TIME, I'LL HURT YOU!"

Oh…

Fuji stares uselessly at Raiden as that incident plays in her head again. It was a couple months since Liu Kang returned her brother home. Raiden was…He was going through alot. What, with his sudden memory loss and having to come to terms with the lost memories, Raiden was silently coping with this alone. It's unnatural for him to bottle up his emotions. Fuji has always known her brother to speak his mind when something troubled him…Then again, his trusted confidant when he didn't want to turn to his family was Kung Lao…Who's dead…Even Madam Bo he couldn't look to for guidance; she died many years ago (peacefully, surrounded by her family). And despite the natural trust, as siblings, they both had for each other; Raiden clearly avoided speaking with her about what he was thinking and feeling.

And it finally came overhead when the siblings had a mild dispute. She doesn't even remember what they were arguing about. Could've been typical brother/sister shit. Maybe she finally confronted him about his silence and reluctance to speak about what had happened to him. Regardless, things got a bit personal, and Raiden, who is usually the patient and calm one, even during their little disagreement bouts; lashed out.

And quite literally did he lashed out. Fuji probably should've seen the telltale signs when his eyes and hair were giving a dim, white glow, but she was too riled up in the conversation to pay attention. Then it happened, Raiden yelled back at her, and suddenly, an arc of lightning erupted from him. Striking Fuji.

With a highly concentrated energy of electricity, it shocked her to the point that her body shut down temporarily…But Raiden didn't see it like that, at the moment. His sister, his closest friend aside from Kung Lao, was lying on the kitchen floor, dead. Their elderly parents arrived home to see Raiden sobbing loudly as he tried to revive his sister while lightning was pulsing off him. They couldn't get close enough to each reach the phone to call for emergency services as arcs of lightning were going everywhere in the house, practically destroying it (the expenses were much, even for their family). And maybe it was the constant shock of electricity that restarted Fuji and kept her from fully kneeling over. Who knows, there was a lot of pandemonium going on at that moment, but she remembered jolting back to life, breathing heavily as she tried to scoot away from her brother.

But there was one thing she regretted that day. Being so scared of Raiden that she had the look of someone seeing a monster, a threat.

Fuji can ascertain that he's been holding it in ever since that day. Because he's scared of hurting her again. And sure, they would both go out of town to a remote area to let Raiden air out and release the energies of the amulet infused to his body. But there was a deafening disconnect since that day. And it pains Fuji that it wasn't until now that she realized she'd shut Raiden out because she was scared of her brother.

Another painful cry emits from Raiden. The storms above were becoming dangerous, Fuji felt like she was going to be swept off her feet by the roaring winds. Although Fuji was scared of the mystical prowess her brother possessed, she loved him more than she feared him.

"Raiden, you're not going to hurt me! I know you won't, I trust that you won't!" Fuji has to now scream over the raging storm as she puts some further distance between her and her brother, readjusting her fallen motorbike. "Whatever you're holding on to, you have to let it go!"

"Fuji, I-"

"Raiden, don't you fucking argue with me!" Fuji shouts, using her "mom voice." Fuji might be just as soft-spoken as her brother, but she knew when to assert herself and take up space when needed. "You're going to harm me far worse the longer you keep holding on to...Well, that! You'll destroy all of Fengjian doing what you're doing RIGHT NOW!"

I mean, Fuji can't say for certain that it will. But storms like this can definitely level villages, and she's not about to wait and find out if this is the case. Fuji yelps loudly as a soaring large tree branch flies by her, the dark-haired sister ducking behind her bike for safety. There's another resounding scream from Raiden, and she looks in his direction with extreme worry. However, there was something different about this scene.

Raiden was howling, sure, but he was releasing the energies of the amulet. The best way one could describe this scene is that it's like watching Raiden raise his power level as if he's a Dragon Ball Z character. The storm around this time worsens, so much so that Fuji ends up holding onto her, albeit skidding, bike while screaming herself.

Then it...Stops...The roiling thunder, the crack of lightning, the raging winds calmed. Fuji opens her eyes and looks to the still-night sky, the dark clouds slowly parting to reveal the gibbous moon above, the sound of thunder now becoming an infrequent presence. When she finally takes a look at her brother...She might as well be looking at an all-powerful being, maybe even a god.

Raiden was levitating, hair and clothes flowing as if he were in water, sparks of electricity visibly coursing through his being as his hair and eyes glowed a godly white. Fuji stared in awe as electric energies sparked off him, unsure of how else to take in this scene in front of her. Her brother would soon gracefully touch the ground again before kneeling over. Fuji cautiously approaches her brother as if she's entering an emperor's throne room unannounced.

"...Raiden?"

"...Yeah?" Raiden, now sounding like his usual, soft-spoken, self, looks up at his sister. His face plastered with the same amazement as she possessed.

"Are you...Ok?"

"I think so," Raiden looks himself over, watching the energies pulse around him. "...Yeah. Yeah, I think I'm alright now."

"What was that? This never happened before." Fuji starts getting more bold as she approaches her brother. She wanted to dust him down but hesitated as the energies continued to encompass Raiden.

Raiden is quiet for a moment. During this silence, the electrical current finally dissipated. "...I'm sorry, Fuji."

"For what?"

"For...For everything."

Fuji's heart nearly breaks the moment she hears Raiden's voice crack. Raiden's eyes become glassy as he begins to cry. "No. No, Raiden," Fuji takes the first step to break the space between them, holding his shaking hand in hers. "I should be the one apologizing. I...I'm not going to pretend that I know what happened to you that caused all this. These strange powers, you're new color," Fuji brushes some stray hair behind Raiden's ear, "Or why you can't remember the past...I don't even know how many years."

"But you clearly needed help. I can't assist with any physical help, but I can help with this," Fuji pokes at his heart, smiling at her elder brother. "I was scared of you, Raiden...Because you became...Unrecognizable to me. But I was wrong to emotionally shut you out. You're still my brother, and I'm going to still be your sister."

Raiden chuckles, smiling through his tears as he fondly looks at Fuji. "Thank you, sis."

"Now come on, we best get home. Mom and Dad, if they're not awake already, are going to be worried about why we were gone during an active storm. Also, you're still in your underwear."

"What?" Raiden looks at himself, finally realizing that he's still in a t-shirt and boxers. "W-why didn't you help me get dressed!?!"

"You were literally screaming and shooting lightning out of your hands, what did you want me to do?" Fuji responds as she gets her motorbike prepped for departure.

"I would've been fine with a hoodie or something," Raiden says, now in a bit of a jesting mood. He does notice that his sister is wearing his clothes and points at her. "Can you at least hand me my hoodie?"

"Can't. Not wearing anything under this."

"I can literally see your PJs under there, Ji."

"Ok, but it's cold. No thanks to you," Fuji sticks her tongue at him teasingly.

The pair continue their sibling banter as they make their way back to Fengjian. The back & forth is interrupted as Raiden grows silent suddenly. Growing increasingly uncomfortable with the silence, Fuji breaks the ice.

"Something on your mind?"

Raiden remains still.

"...Come on, Raiden. If something is troubling you...Listen, I might not have all the answers, but at least let me know what's going on."

~Two Days Later~

Raiden closes the mirrored medicine cabinet, the soft click of the small door indicating it was successfully shut. Raiden is faced with his reflection. White, shoulder-length hair, brown eyes (that occasionally turn white, he has noticed), upside-down heart-shaped face, chubby cheeks, oval brows; these features he has seen time and time again. Yet, this look still feels...Foreign to him. How did he get the white hair? Nothing in his memories can track down the point in time when he dyed his hair (Fuji says that he dyed his hair...But...).

He looked...Older. As if he's experienced many things in his life. What those experiences are though-he cannot tell you. Raiden places a hairband in his mouth as he gathers his strands to recreate the man-bun he fondly prefers to wear. It's the one thing that gives him a sense of familiarity. He can remember precisely how he favors pinning up his hair. Raiden looks at himself in the mirror again, staring into his reflections' brown eyes as if he's searching for something behind them. His gaze then focuses on a small picture. A photo was taken when he, Kung Lao, and Fuji went on a school trip in their elementary years. Their class went fishing that day, and he can distinctly remember his kid self getting frustrated because he couldn't catch a single fish that day. Despite living in a village that was on the water, fishing wasn't a skill Raiden acquired. He remembers Kung Lao always being able to catch a large or small one, bragging about how he was going to take his catches back home to eat.

Perhaps it was Kung Lao's bragging that made his younger self jealous and throw a fit. But in that same instance, Kung Lao actually taught him the tricks he used to capture fish. It was Kung Lao that turned that sour trip into a journey he will always remember.

...

Why can't he remember anything? Past that day, when the pair competed to see who could harvest the most cabbages and pay for the loser's meal at Madam Bo's, everything else is a blur. And maybe this wouldn't bother him much; people can have fuzzy memories, especially if they were beaten so severely they had to be bandaged with extreme care by a stranger. But it's not just a few memories that he can't recollect; it's practically all of them past that day at Madam Bo's. Even more alarming...

...He had forgotten that his best friend, Kung Lao, had died. Now, unless he's getting a grave case of early dementia, who would miss that their own best friend died, their own funeral procession? When his sister and parents came forward about this with him, it was only then that Raiden realized that some years passed as well. That meant that he was missing years-YEARS-of life experiences that were now gone from his mind. Even more confusing, he wasn't in a coma. At least, he doesn't think he was.

Ok, lemme explain. Based on what Fuji and his parents told him, some man named Liu Kang offered him a position of high-paying work. It required him to work in the United States, and both he and Kung Lao were offered the job; both men said yes to this opportunity. Looking back at it, in his family's words, they should've pushed back further as they were suspicious of this Liu Kang fellow and this job he was offering their son. But seeing the joy on Raiden's face and his determination to leave with Liu Kang convinced them that their son could handle themselves and pave his own future. Occasionally, he would visit home and send money & unique souvenirs before promptly leaving back to the States. Apparently, he was a martial arts teacher in the States, but everything else was unknown to them. It was a shock to everyone when they heard that Kung Lao died. It came out of left field. Based on what Liu Kang and Raiden told them, an accident happened where some equipment malfunctioned and blew up in Kung Lao's face, a lacerated throat being the primary cause of death. After that, Raiden was radio silent to his family. It wasn't until Liu Kang came to their house in the dead of night years later with Raiden in tow, bandaged and bruised, and left without another word. They haven't seen Liu Kang since.

Aside from the mild inconsistencies (if he was in the States while his family was in China, of course, there would be some muddled details), their story was pretty straightforward based on their point of view...Yet, deep down, Raiden couldn't help but...Feel like there's more to this story. Not that he's distrustful of his family; he truly believes what they said. However, somewhere deep within his conscience, it felt like the story they told him was the tale he WANTED them to believe. As if Raiden knew the truth that explains the holes and contradictions that riddled their recollection of previous events. Yet, the answers to these truths are hidden even from Raiden. Always at the tip of his tongue but forbidden from ever speaking them.

Raiden enters the kitchen; his mother and sister preparing breakfast and lunch for Raiden. Seeing him enter, Fuji smiles from ear to ear. "You slept in, lazy butt."

"Oh?" Raiden looks at the mounted clock, and yep! He's an hour and thirty minutes late to work. "Aw, crap!"

"Calm yourself, boy. I already called the Farm. They were understanding and said to come in when you're ready." His mother says as she sets down a bowl full of steamed Bao Buns. Enough to last until lunch, really.

Looking at the bowl, Raiden knew why they cooked so much. Kung Lao, the gluttonous butt he was, would always visit Raiden so that they could travel to work together. And without fail, he was always raiding their kitchen for any leftovers no one else wanted. It became nearly tradition to cook a bit extra in case Kung Lao decided to pay them a visit.

...Apparently, old habits die hard...Raiden smiles and kisses his mother gingerly on the cheek. "Thank you, mother. I don't want to keep them longer, though. I'll see you guys when I get back." Raiden quickly packs his own lunch, thanks to the assistance of his sister, Fuji, who was already 3 steps ahead of him and grabs a couple Bao Buns before heading out the house.

Walking to the Farm, Raiden couldn't help but feel a sorrowful, almost lonely, acceptance of the village around him. Every building, path, small body of water, old face, new face, everything about Fengjian felt like a ghost to him. It was familiar, yet so dissimilar to Raiden. This village has grown in the past years he was in and out of this settlement. But what disheartens him is the absence of his friend. Raiden only wishes that Kung Lao was here, perhaps he would've helped him make sense of all of this. This...Amnesia mess that he's in. And Raiden would've confided with Madam Bo...You know, if she were still alive. Her death had more consistency; she simply died of old age. It was still a shock; she was his adopted grandmother in Raiden's eyes. So in Raiden's mind, he not only lost a close friend but also a family member and valuable mentor.

Raiden found himself staring at points of interest that held significance to him, especially if it related to Kung Lao. There was a cherry blossom tree up a hill nearby that he and Lao would frequent without fail. Be it to do school work, to see who can climb that tree the fastest and highest, or to chill. It was there that Kung Lao, at the age of 15, expressed his desire to explore their horizons past Fengjian. Raiden still grins to himself, thinking back on the many adventurers Kung Lao wanted to have (although few of them were a bit exaggerated). How they both promised-once they were older-they would travel outside of Fengjian, and experience the world together. Somewhere, deep down, Raiden feels like this has come true if they have gone to the States before...But it feels like more was there than simply hopping over to another country.

There's a convenience store nearby where Kung Lao's house was. It was a favorite, and every time the pair visited it, Kung Lao would rant and rave about all the many meals one could make from just a few store-bought convenience items. Being a child of a middle-class family, Raiden was always baffled by the "dishes" Kung Lao would make, most of them hit or miss due to the cheap ingredients. But Kung Lao loved to cook. He probably would've wanted to become one with the kind of passion he had. But Kung Lao cooked to survive due to...Well, let's just say, he was a poor kid.

Then there was the Farm. They were always getting into some kind of trouble there. Playing daring jokes on each other, helping one another with the back-breaking labor, then the fulfilling trip to Madam Bo's Teahouse. All fond memories.

Before Raiden knew it, the day was already reaching its finale. Raiden worked overtime, something he was often known to do. And, you know, working such late hours without Kung Lao there was...Disheartening. Kung Lao wouldn't assist in the work. In his mind, his shift ended at 5:30 P.M. But he would at least stay with Raiden. To provide him company during the late hours. This time around, the nightlife critters and beasts were his only company. The walk home was seemingly worse. The darkened village felt quiet, with only a few shops open that had loud commotion going on. Friends hanging out and enjoying a good drink together as they drank and ate the rest of the evening away.

The only moment of solace Raiden gained was when he walked back into his house. His mother, father, and sister were loud in conversation as they went over the recent village gossip, village news & politics, and pastime activities they engaged in. It was a breath of fresh air having this personal community that broke the solemn silence that his best friend filled. The night ended with Raiden sitting down with his family and enjoying the dinner they made. It closed with him and his sister, Fuji, cleaning up after their parents as they turned in early for the night.

"Hey."

"Hmm?" Raiden gives Fuji a side glance as he continues to clean up dishes.

"You feeling ok?" Fuji eyes him curiously.

Two days ago, Raiden finally came forward with Fuji about the emptiness he's been feeling. Even though he's in a village that he was born & raised in, filled with familiar faces and family, the fact of the matter is that he dearly missed Kung Lao. But...But it was more than just grieving for a best friend, not that it would make a difference. But Kung Lao filled deeper shoes than just simply being a friend. When he's in bed, he feels like the mattress is too big all of a sudden. He can't eat certain dishes because it will all remind him of Lao. He finds himself crying to himself because he forgot for a moment that Kung Lao would not answer his door or his phone if Raiden were to call. All these things, even as a best friend, would be reasonable to miss and grieve over. But there was something more to their friendship than that.

"Do you think you loved him?" Raiden remembers Fuji asking him when he came forward with this.

"...I don't know...And if I did...Now I have to reconcile with the fact that I'll never get to tell him..."

Raiden smiles at his sister and playfully bumps shoulders with her. "Now that I'm home? I'm feeling good, for now. The rice and pork was really good, Fuji."

"I know right! I used this new spice that my friends were crazy about. It's a Korean spice-"

Fuji rambled on about how she made the dish they had for dinner, and Raiden eagerly listened and conversed with her. Even though Kung Lao was gone, he could try to fill that space with more people who loved him.

Outside the residence where Raiden lived, a shadowed figure rests on the rooftops of the sleeping Fengjian village, watching the building like a predator that has found its prey. Blazing red eyes stare through the open windows, watching closely the two figures who pass it daily, unaware they have an interested third party observing them. The being in question, however, was laser-focused on Raiden, watching his every move, taking them to memory. The show would be over, unfortunately, as they closed the curtains and cut off the lights, slumbering like the rest of the village.

The shadowed individual smiles, "Worry not, Raiden. We'll be reunited soon enough. You'll see. Then not even death will tear us apart."

And in a flash of mystical air and dead cherry blossom petals, the figure is gone.

~Somewhere in California~

Kenshi groans awake as he feels inklings of the sun peering out from the half-closed curtains. Half-naked, Kenshi, through his sight provided by Sento, is greeted with the ceiling of the luxury apartment belonging to Jonathan Carlton, Johnny Cage. Kenshi felt an added weight on the bed he slept on, knowing who was sharing the mattress with him. Despite this, Kenshi twisted his head to drink in the blissfully still-sleeping man beside him, Johnny.

You know, if you asked Kenshi that he would end up in the loving arms of a pompous Hollywood star, he would've had you killed for even thinking about it. Even when their relationship evolved from enemies to friends, Kenshi would've thought that was the final step in their relationship. Just being friends. But it all fell into place when...When Kung Lao died. Funny how shared trauma can bring others together...

You see, Before Kung Lao died, Johnny was good friends with Kung Lao. They both had their similarities. They were both friends with whom some would consider "the straight man" of their other half, they were both hella self-confident and prideful of their capabilities. The only thing that seemingly differentiated them was that one was poor while the other was rich. Oh, and the fact that Kung Lao was more disciplined when it came to his fighting prowess, compared to Johnny, who was more of a "free-form jazz" type of guy. Although Kung Lao expressed mild annoyance at the actor's Hollywood pride (even Kung Lao wasn't that egotistical), the pair worked off each other pretty well to be good friends.

So when Kung Lao died, aside from Raiden, Johnny took his death the hardest. Being perhaps the more foolhardy of the group (even with his years of maturity the more he was asked to help Liu Kang with other realm matters), that moment was when Johnny really "grew up." It's not like he was new to death, the kind of work they did, they have met many instances where they watched people die in front of them or saw corpses in horrendous states. But it was one thing when it was someone who you weren't close to or didn't know in general. It's another thing when it's someone you do know and have history with.

After Kung Lao's death, Johnny's way of coping was trying to fill in the shoes that Kung Lao left behind. Kung Lao always had a way of lightening the mood that was unique compared to what Johnny would do. Where the actor would constantly spill movie references that no one but Johnny understood, Kung Lao knew how to inspire from the heart. And that took skill and experience to pull off, something Johnny wasn't too well versed in. Looking back on it, Kenshi sees them in a more positive light than before. However, he can't say the same for Raiden. When they were still considered the protectors of Earthrealm, Raiden was spiraling into his own self-hatred and grief. With good intentions, Johnny tried to be a friend to Raiden, wanting to reassure Raiden that they had his back...It didn't end well.

Johnny's desire to keep their friend group together, even though they were drifting apart was harming Johnny more than he thought it was. So when Liu Kang suddenly announced that he would no longer be needing their services, Johnny was quick to take his offer. Now, to the untrained ear, one would think:

"Of course, Johnny Cage dipped out after the going got going! He's an actor who never saw any of the cruelties of the real world because of his wealth!"

Which, in some way, could be the reason. But Kenshi saw something else to Johnny's reason for dipping out. As stated before, Johnny put a lot of emotional energy trying to keep their friend group alive. He tried to fill the shoes that Kung Lao left behind, and in the process, he was draining himself as he tried to keep everyone happy while everyone was coping with Lao's death. No longer being obligated to be Earthrealms protector, meant that Johnny no longer had to hold onto the tearing strings since they were all going their separate ways.

Their relationship still wouldn't blossom until nearly a year and a half ago. Granted, looking back at their previous interactions, perhaps it was fate that they would find solace with each other. Kenshi, with the line of work he involved himself in, had to go into hiding but had nowhere to turn to. Hunkering down with Johnny would've been a foolish thought; he was the exact opposite of discreet. But, because he had to cut back on some expenses, Johnny was living in an apartment building that was a perfect "hiding in plain sight" spot. With Kenshi as his new roommate, Johnny got a bit personal with Kenshi as he was helped dress his wounds. The rest was history as Kenshi found himself kissing Johnny in the heat of the moment. A year and a half later, Kenshi is still in disbelief that they're together still.

While Kenshi would love to admire the sleeping person beside him, he knew that he couldn't stay long. He was still in hiding, and he promised Jax that he would meet him at a disclosed location to discuss next steps. He's careful to slip out of bed without disturbing Johnny, swiftly getting cleaned up and dressed before walking into the kitchen to prepare himself a cup of joe.

"Mmhm. Morning sunshine."

Kenshi nearly jumps out of his skin as he feels strong arms wrap around his waist. He smiles as he cranes his head back to look at Johnny. "Did I wake you?"

"Didn't feel your body keeping me warm, honey. You leaving already?" Johnny says in a husky tone as he nuzzles behind the blind swordsman.

"Have to. I have an associate who's waiting for me. I might not be able to stay here for much longer."

"Again?" Johnny complains in an overexaggerated tone. "How long will you be gone?"

"Don't know, depends on the situation."

This isn't the first time Kenshi and Johnny been separated for long periods of time, something they were both well accustomed to. Johnny was an actor/director, which means he was constantly traveling to other states and countries for filming. Working for the OIA (Outworld Investigation Agency) and the FBI, Kenshi was either traveling the world or traveling realms. Perhaps being the only Earthrealmer who didn't hang up the mantle of being Liu Kang's warrior.

Johnny continues to whine about being alone without Kenshi (even though he'll be alright), playing up his desperation for Kenshi to "stay home" with him. And Kenshi will admit, he can definitely see why he was, and still is, a popular star in Hollywood.

"Can you at least leave me a goodbye gift?" Johnny's fingers start to linger towards Kenshi's waistbelt.

"Johnny," Kenshi chuckles as he moves one of his hands away from his waist, kissing the fingers individually. "I can't right now; I'm going to be late."

"Aw, come on! Just a quicky?"

"No, Johnny."

Cage huffs, but there is no anger hinted there. He just kisses Kenshi's neck and sighs. "Fine. Just come back sooner than later, ok? Bed feels empty without ya."

"I bet it does," Kenshi jests.

"I know it does." As Johnny giggles, his eyes glance at the reflection displayed on the microwave mirror, and he sees…Something moving. A tall, humanoid figure attempting to stealth because it assumes it hasn't been seen.

Just as quickly as Johnny notices this, he quickly grabs a kitchen knife from the knife holder and swiftly throws it at the intruder. Even with his fast reflexes, they weren't as fast as the unwanted guest. The Intruder grabs the knife, blade in hand, while their glowing red eyes stay trained on the couple.

Kenshi, already alerted that something is wrong, calls for Sento to his hand. The magic sword unsheathes itself and flies over to their location. Before reaching Kenshi's hand, with his mystical sight and ability to utilize Sento, even if the weapon is not in his hand, he sharply gestures his one hand in multiple directions in slicing motions. Sento redirects its trajectory as it starts to aim for the home invader. Although the sword was able to get a few good slices in, the individual was fast…Too fast…

"What the hell are you doing in my apartment!?!" Johnny growls as he grabs another weapon of his own (it's another knife).

The figure doesn't respond, only growling as it attempts to rush at Johnny and Kenshi. The pair dodge out of the way, both separated on opposite sides of the person.

"Listen, I'm willing to not press charges AND give you the comfiest dirt nap you'll ever experience IF you tell us what you're doing in my place and why you're attacking us!"

"Something tells me they're not here to talk, Johnny," Kenshi replies as he commands Sento to his hand.

"Ok, dirt nap it is then."

The pair rush the intruder, hoping to overwhelm them with their combined might. Johnny's theatrical and dirty fighting tactics with Kenshi's samurai-like skills and roughhousing tricks. Yet, even with their combined might, this individual was swift and able to counter almost all their attacks while also producing devastating blows of their own.

Very quickly, Kenshi caught on that this person possessed some superhuman strength. Every punch sent Kenshi and Johnny flying in some instances during the fight. This intruder also had some cracks in their skin that had a glow to them. Unfortunately, while Sento gave him sight, it didn't provide Kenshi clarity on specific details like colors. Johnny, however, could see that this person had ashen gray skin, much like how a corpse would look, and the supposed "cracks" were actually the outlines of their inner veins, glowing to an unnatural degree.

Another thing too, this guy just would not quit. Their back and forth was eventually tiring Johnny & Kenshi as they missed one too many close calls that would've killed them. But this home invader had stamina for days. Johnny and Kenshi had to resort to going on the defensive as they had to dodge his attacks while waiting for openings.

Johnny is nearly choked out by this creature before grabbing the heated french press on the stove and slamming it against the intruder's head. Granting the actor time to build some distance.

"Kenshi, I'm gonna need you to think of something, and think of it quick because I'm going to be paying for all these expenses that this prick is breaking!" Johnny windily fusses as he lands a one-two punch on the intruder.

"Get him closer to the living room!" Kenshi says as he provides a helpful block for Johnny, using Sento to slash at the intruder before they can land a hit on Johnny.

"What?" Johnny looks at Kenshi confused before taking a punch to the face.

"Just follow my lead!"

Where Johnny's luxurious apartment was located it was built into a tall skyscraper building, and Johnny paid to get a good view of the city he was living in. That meant that his room was exceptionally high up in the building; leading to an estimated 250 ft drop. And Kenshi was getting some sneaking suspicions that this creature could survive all 250 of it.

Kenshi dares to get closer to the intruder, putting all his might into pushing and fighting this man closer to the living room which had an entire glass wall that showcased that good Californian view. Helping him, Johnny also jumped into the fray, along with Sento as they brought him closer to the glass windows. The intruder was able to block their attacks, but he was inching toward the glass, and they finally grabbed at Kenshi's throat in a crushing grip.

"You will join us, Takahashi. Our family will gladly welcome you." The intruder says.

"I'm all for visiting in-laws and relatives, but we're gonna have to decline the invitation to the family barbeque!" Johnny says. And in that same second, he drops it low and hits your man with the most devastating nutcracker they'll ever experience.

The intruder makes an audible moan as they double over, covering their private bits. Seems this was just enough to not only get them winded but grant Kenshi enough time to perform a flying roundhouse kick and send the intruder falling 230 feet back to the lobby.

"Yo, Kenshi! What the hell, man! I didn't think you were going to kill him!?!" Johnny exclaims. "Dude, I live on this floor!?! And it's 10 in the fucking morning! People are going to see, and then the police are going to be called, then what the fuck am I going to do then? I mean, sure, we were fighting in self-defense, I think that guy had the intent to kill us, but I'm a famous star, dickhead! What am I going to tell the press? Fuck, fucking A, I can already see it, 'Johnny Cage: Famous Actor, Director, and Killer?' Fucking fuck, Kenshi!"

Despite Johnny's angry rambles, Kenshi paid him no mind as he carefully leaned out the side of the broken window, trying to get a good view of the intruder and seeing if his prediction was correct.

…The motherfucker got up.

"Johnny, get dressed, we gotta go," Kenshi says in a hurry as he picks up Sento and the sheath it belongs to.

"Wait, what? Were you even hearing me-"

"We don't have time, get dressed!"

"Ok, ok, I am!" Johnny windily says as he rushes to his bedroom. "Fucking hell, what a goddamn mess."

As the pair are leaving the apartment, Johnny is just getting his best shoes tied, hopping on one leg as he tries to follow the hurried Kenshi. "Wait, Kenshi, what the hell is going on. You're doing that 'I know way more than I let on' schtick that you often do. Did you know that guy?"

"I'll explain once we're far from here. Right now, you're about to meet a good friend of mine."

~Wow, this was even longer lmao! I made a second installment! Very excited to keep working on this because we're about to get to the part where Kung Lao returns >:). Had a lot of fun writing Amnesia!Raiden trying to cope with Kung Lao's sudden departure in his life and writing his sister Fuji. BTW, you can check out this post I made of my picrew interpretation of what Raiden's Sister looks like (Fuji - Raiden's Sister). Not too happy with the Johnny & Kenshi scene, but I've been, once again, working all evening and well into the night with this one, so I'm gonna make my peace with it. Hope you guys enjoy it. Can't wait to start writing up the next installment! Pray that I make this one shorter ;A;~

#Mortal Kombat #Mortal Kombat 1 #MK1 #oops kung lao's dead again au #MK1 Raiden #Raiden's Sister #Fuji #MK1 Kung Lao #MK1 Johnny Cage #MK1 Kenshi #Raiden #Kung Lao #Johnny Cage #Kenshi #Wilted Cherry Blossoms Dark Thunderstorms Burning Hopes

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