#heamatic

[blxdc-a]

Is it a coincidence that all of Sonya's kids--biological or adopted--are all blonds with attitude problems?

...probably not.

( @gwenbiote @omnicut @psichique @heamatic )

[cagcd]

❛❛ ... ❜❜

[edxnian]

So as to not flood the dash... ✨ responses under the cut.

@dcwnthercbbithcle asks ' ✨✨✨ I love your use of descriptive language and sentence length to convey emotion or trepidation in your writing!! For example, in an earlier ask on a kiss, you describe Kitana being unsure and on the spot and looking around her, and to express that you dragged your sentences out-- using em dashes to almost visualize that feeling of looking all around you-- time pausing when the adrenaline of anxiety starts to hit and you're feeling surrounded and on the spot! It's terrific attention to detail, and I adore it! '

Would you believe that wasn't intentional? xD Seriously, I'm just a dork that the internet caught on a corn dog. Thank you for the kind words!

@hxttrick asks ' ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨ '

Right back atcha, Yasu!

@rosawept asks ' ✨✨✨ '

No you--

@cagcd asks ' ✨✨✨✨✨ hey you, yes you! I don't talk enough about your Kitana, she's so well developed, serious but playful when she permits herself, you capture her loyalty and devotion for family despite all the trouble she faces and it's just *chef kiss* I love me complex characters and you nailed it ♡♡♡♡ '

Excuse me but--how dare you. How dare you come into my house with this praise when you're the one that nails complexity as easy as breathing?!

@heamatic asks ' ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨ Your writing has always stuck out to me! It's just amazing, descriptive and emotional! Love iiiiit and love youuuuu! '

I never, ever get over the fact that you noticed me all those years ago, and even now your writing is incredible. ♥

[wellfell]

 there were certain things in life that needed to be left unanswered and undiscovered , paranormal was good only if you were watching a show about it . but this luxury was stolen from akina mori the exact day she came home to an angry ghost above her sister's disfigured corpse — it was stolen when the man she loved was no longer in his own body . something changes about his appearance , especially when he's angry , the brief glances of something demonic that hides under the flesh of a man ; hanzo hasashi was his name . and he adored his wife and son to death , literally . akina's hand blindly reaches for the pen on the desk when hanzo does it again . this weird change in the atmosphere , she hates the upper hand he holds by being an undying , ancient soul . ❛ men usually say that . ❜ YOU DON'T HAVE IT IN YOU , TIGER . GRR ! she's not doing anything , she can't do anything . soulless as it is , it's his gaze . it's his nose , these are his hands . . . akina's gaze lingers on his . before she quietly speaks up ; ❛ i found out who you are . why you couldn't – kill me . that day . when i woke up . . . i look like her . ❜

  📼 cont. : @heamatic

[rosawept-m]

[X]

Tui La gasped. Surprised as the parasol was ripped from her fingers. Allowing the chilling cascade of rain to pour upon her skin. Soaking her robes and in deep into her bones. Shock turned into fear. Dual colored eyes wide, her expression flashing a look of fear as he stared at her with gritted teeth. His eyes a cold fury as he raised his finger, his words sounding like a promise more than a threat. A look of hurt came to the woman's eyes.

"Bi-Han is not someone who is easy to get along with Tui La. It will take someone I'm afraid with limitless compassion. Don't let him get under your skin, my friend. He is stubborn but I know you are too."

That was what Lord Liu Kang had said to her many years ago. Just after their first meeting when his father was still alive. When she was a wide eyed girl, stepping into a new world.

Tui La's emotions of shock, fear and the brief feelings of a strange pang of hurt quickly turned to anger.

"Oh and would it be you who would drive a blade into my heart? To push away your own brothers away by your anger? Would that make you happy, Bi-Han. To throw away anyone who dares show you an inch of compassion." Slapping his hand away from her face. Standing up to the Grandmaster.

"Compassion is not weakness you - you stubborn child! There are people who care about you! Until you live in a world of blood and dust you will be blind! Your brothers care about you! I care abo -" Tui La paused before stepping away with a wave of her hand. Dismissing this unless fight. Turning her gaze so she did not have to look at him.

"I don't see why I even bother…Fine, but don't come to me when you are ill. I will not help you." Shaking her head, still refusing to look at him as she turned her back. Her fingers frozen and numb. Her body shaking from the cold.

@heamatic

[extraordinarygrrls]

For @heamatic - Bi-Han and Imogen

The Lin Kuei were given the breakdown by Liu Kang on the very regular seeming woman before them, and she on the ornery man in blue regalia. She was an oracle of sorts, one with the ability to see into one's past and predict the future. He was cagey with the details, but she was knowledgeable enough about theoretical physics to understand the theory of relative state formulation. Parallel universes, the possibility of multiple timelines.

They come as warnings sometimes, little notes from another self. Bi-Han, Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei, always temporarily. An arsehole, the question is to what extent. Tread carefully, but don't take disrespect. "Dr. Imogen Idris." Best to clarify her title now, she was more than some prophetess. "Pleased to meet you, Grandmaster. I'm sorry for your loss, I understand the difficulty of losing one's parents." She extended her hand to shake, but looked at him analytically, trying to gauge how difficult this one would be.

[rahge-a]

@heamatic    ` starter.

 there was always someone that annoyed her , something about hanzo hasashi that got on her nerves when he moved a limb or breathed too loudly . truth to be told , that picture on his desk that she always wondered whose face was in it , didn't matter because he must have betrayed them too . one late night she finds herself wandering into his office to ask him how to use the stupid locks of the doors around her room . strutting inside lazily and slamming his door shut .  ❛ hey . i was gonna ask yo- ❜  a pause , his back was turned to her . rolling her eyes , akina walks around his desk to stand in front of him with another careless ' h e y ' . it stops , everything stops for a very brief second when she notices the redness of his eyes . is he sick , or is he high ? couldn't be crying right ? she shifts on where she's standing , and purses her lips , clearing her throat . but suddenly , her eyes fix on him and she's demanding ;  ❛ what are you crying about ? did your friends not pay you enough ? or did you miss my bastard dad ? ❜

[bastardsunlight]

the last storm

Closed starter with @heamatic

The lightning was red that night, the thunder a rolling roar, and it was angry. Newscasters and meteorologists alike were baffled by the phenomenon which, while concentrated most heavily over Los Angeles, was not isolated thereto. The world seemed to be experiencing a massive, raging storm—hail and rain and bolts of lightning rained down mercilessly on almost every corner of the planet, sparing nobody and nothing, but when the giant, black funnel descended over LA, not a single scientific “expert” spoke a word, though all eyes were turned to America’s western coast.

As if the storm was not enough, however, the San Andreas fault had evidently decided that it, too, had had quite enough of humanity in the area and the ground rolled and snarled in that strange, subsonic way that sent dogs mad. Were one to listen closely—if it was even possible to hear beyond the massive, battering hail and bellowing wind—one might very well have heard a voice, a vengeful sound, laced with fury and grief, uncontrolled and nigh-incoherent.

Were it possible to penetrate the wall of that miles-wide funnel of black cloud and red lightning, one would have found the literal eye of the storm. Utterly calm in the very center, the air heavy and hot, there loomed a humanoid figure, clad in blue, white, and gold, an ornate jingasa perched atop his head, silver-white hair in loose ringlets falling about broad shoulders, inscrutable eyes glowing scarlet like the lightning which flashed above and all around, falling in waves off arms and wrapping viciously about his body. In one massive hand, he held the throat of a common criminal—what some people might call a thug or gang-banger, or nothing at all, avoiding his gaze on the street. The crotch of the young man’s pants were wet with piss and his britches further stank of shit and the sharp tang of adrenaline.

Raiden squeezed.