Sektor & Cyrax Being Female. Cyrax (possibly) Being Kuai's Ex Yet Both Of Them Being Absolutely Loyal

sektor & cyrax being female. cyrax (possibly) being kuai's ex yet both of them being absolutely loyal to bi-han. frost being bi-han's protégé. bi-han most def being a mama's boy. nrs really said bi-han is for the women.

so weirdos that keep on insisting he's a misogynist can go shave their backs now.

More reason to hate khaos reigns, we were this close to another sonya appearance after invasions Mileena ending but NOOOOOOO

Hey gang,

Just played khoas reigns, can somebody make a good luck, babe edit with Sektor and Khameleon, I know what those two are. Please and thank you ❤️

what was the point of making sub-zero and scorpion brothers if they are just going to become enemies again anyway, like at first i thought it was to make them a team and stop them from fighting each other all the time but no

“Your blood will never be Lin Kuei”<—Bi Han isn’t saying he’s not family because he’s adopted. I think what he’s saying is that he’ll never be considered a warrior by Lin Kuei standards. It no different than than a snobby Harvard student with top grades telling off another Harvard student who happens to be a family member and whom they look down on that they shouldn’t have been admitted and is a waste of space.

Cooling the fire (Kuai Liang and Tomas MK1 fic)

(MK1 childhood Lin Kuei Trio - Kuai Liang and Tomas)

Summary - Kuai Liang feels like all he is is second-best. He is nothing compared to his older brother. Little toddler Tomas inadvertently shows him otherwise.

(Hurt/comfort/brotherly love/minor humour) (~3000 words)

Linked to a previous post of mine titled 'Warming the ice' (A Bi-Han and Tomas fic). Now up on my AO3 alongside that post - We are family. - Chapter 1 - Tsukuyomi_Ravioli - Mortal Kombat - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

Enjoy!

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“You’re slow, Kuai Liang.”

Kuai barely managed to jerk his body backwards, the fist that was intended to connect with his face instead grazing his cheek, a whisper of what could have been a fatal knock-out blow. “I’m having a bad day, Bi-Han.” He hissed, voice laced with irritation. He intercepted Bi-Han’s next anticipated strike with his forearm, redirecting the violent force of his brother’s fist far away from his body, “Cut me some slack, would you?”

Bi-Han’s expression remained unreadable. His body did not falter. Without hesitation, the older boy dipped low to the ground, sweeping at Kuai’s leg with ruthless precision, knocking him off balance with ease. The impact sent Kuai crashing to the ground, the air of his lungs escaping from him. He rolled himself to the side with a wheeze, narrowly avoiding another kick aimed directly for his ribs. “A bad day is no excuse for this kind of sloppiness.”

Kuai’s blood boiled. The harsh lights of the training hall, the murmurs of other students sparring nearby, the distant voices of the elders overseeing them- and above all his brother's stupid, irritating little remarks- it was too much. All too much. “This is supposed to be light training, you know!” He barked, scrambling to his feet. His hands clenched into tight fists, so tight his knuckles ached. “What is wrong with you?”

Bi-Han’s lips curled into a mocking smirk. “Did I strike a nerve, little brother?”

He was amused. He was finding this funny.

Kuai’s jaw clenched. The heat of his pyromancy simmered at his fingertips, begging to be unleashed. Words rose to his throat, eager to spill. ‘Yes’ he so desperately wanted to scream, ‘Yes, it did. Are you happy? Is this what you wanted?’

His mouth was welded shut, however, so he let his anger do the talking. He charged forwards, fists bursting into flames. His rage ignited every inch of him- his hair, his arms, even his feet. For a brief, exhilarating moment, he saw Bi-Han’s expression shift. That smirk that once sat on his perfect features was wiped clear off of his face, replaced by a flicker of surprise. Of shock. Of fear. Finally-!

“Kuai Liang!” The sharp voice of one of the elders cut through the air, freezing his body in place almost immediately. In an instant, the red-hot flames that had all but consumed him were gone, his rage smothered by an incoming ocean, one of shame and dread. His gaze immediately dropped to the floor in embarrassment. “No abilities are to be used during these sparring sessions! You know this!”

That he did. Humiliation seared his cheeks as he lowered his head further, the weight of his actions pressing down on him. He could hear Bi-Han’s derisive snort, could feel the eyes of the other students on him, their whispers burning hisses in his ears. “Sorry.” He muttered, the word bitter on his tongue.

“You are to stay behind after this session! Do I make myself clear?”

“... Yes.”

His gaze peered up slowly as the shocked murmurs died down, and the students around him continued their sparring quietly, his eyes quickly finding Bi-Han’s own. His brother tutted, looking him up and down, “You should keep… that” He gestured to Kuai Liang’s body, “in check. It shouldn’t be that easy to rile you up.”

“You’re one to talk.” He couldn’t help but bite. 

That stupid, entitled smile from before was back on Bi-Han’s lips. “This is why I’ll always be better than you, little brother. You could learn a thing or two from me.”

Bitterness and rage were sour, ugly feelings. Feelings that had no place in a warrior's heart. Least of all one who bore the honour of the Lin Kuei- the elders had drilled that lesson into him time and time again. 

Particularly today, of course. His ears were still ringing from that friendly ‘discussion’.

Despite all this, though, here he was. The Kuai Liang- the would-be warrior, son of the Grandmaster, future assassin of fire, sulking like a petulant child. Like some spoiled, entitled god-damn brat.

The training session that had ruffled him so badly had long since ended. The elders’ stern reprimands were long gone, their harsh glares fading away with the light of the day. Bi-Han was no longer taunting him, the students no longer whispering around him. Now, night cloaked the temple in peaceful silence. The hallways deserted, the courtyards outside empty and blank. But the turmoil within him refused to quit. It refused to leave him be, a constant nagging in his ear. His mind churned, a whirlwind of thoughts he just couldn’t seem to banish away. 

Why couldn’t he just let this go? Why couldn’t he just… simmer down- cool off, or something, for once in his life? Why was he so riled up? Why couldn’t he stop thinking? Why was this so hard?

‘It shouldn’t be that easy to rile you up.’

He found himself trying meditation- in an attempt to bring some form of tranquillity into his life. It was probably (most definitely) the first time ever he had done so outside of lessons, tucked away quietly behind the judgement-free, and more importantly Bi-Han-free, walls that made up his room.

Unravelling his dusty, never-before used tatami mat, he threw the poor thing onto the floor in front of him, his body quickly following not even a half-second later, hitting the ground with a soft grunt. He forced his eyes closed instantly, crossing his legs and resting his hands on his knees, palms-up, his fingers curling slightly into the air above. 

Right. Let’s do this. Tranquillity. Tranquillity, tranquillity, tran-quil-li-ty.

In.

He drew in an achingly slow, deliberate breath. Controlled and neat, just as he’d practised hundreds of times before. Granted, not on his own accord.

Hold.

His hands were so incredibly sweaty.

Out.

Like really, really sweaty. What the hell? Why was he sweating so much? And why just his hands? Was that normal?

In.

He was already bored. And sweaty, apparently. Bored and sweaty. Unhumanly sweaty.

Hold.

And still pissed, of course, how could he forget about that? That never left.

Out.

In fact, he was actually more pissed than before. Meditation was supposed to calm the soul, not enrage it further, yet all it seemed to do was irritate him more.

In.

He clenched his fists, his nails biting into the soft skin of his palms.

Hold- ah, screw this.

Brown eyes snapped open, his gaze unfocused as he stared down at the floor, his teeth wobbling the skin of his bottom lip. His chest tightened with frustration.

This is why I’ll always be better than you, little brother.

Bi-Han could probably do this with ease. Hell, the angelic, righteous little future-leader was probably meditating right now, all neat and tidy and perfect like he always was, while he couldn’t even last five seconds! 

A knock at his door startled him rapidly out of his thoughts, his eyes zoning back into focus as they shot towards the direction of the door. The knock was too gentle to be Bi-Han, and it was far too late for his parents or any of the elders to be checking up on him. “Enter.” He called out, his voice rough from disuse.

Slowly, the door creaked open, a small face peering cautiously around the wooden frame, big, wide, grey-silvery eyes meeting his own.

“Tomas.” He blinked, confused. “What are you doing up? It’s late.”

The toddler shuffled on his feet, still partially hiding himself behind the door. His ghostly gaze dropped to the floor below, “I couldn't sleep.” He confessed quietly, “Can I stay with you?”

“I’m not going to bed anytime soon.”

“I’ll be quiet.” Tomas whispered, tiny fingers rapping gently against the wooden door as he spoke. “Really really quiet. I promise.”

His first instinct was to tell Tomas no. To snap at him- to send him scrambling back into his room where he most definitely should have been. But one look at the toddler- at those big eyes and tousled smoky hair, the flames inside died down. Just a bit.

He let out a slow breath- one he had barely been able to do just moments before. “Come here then.” He said, softening his tone and patting his knee. “You can stay.”

If Tomas were a dog, his ears would have perked up at the sound of the open invitation, his little socked feet sliding clumsily around on the wooden floor as he quickly stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him. His footsteps were light and quiet as he made his way further inside, stopping just in front of him.

Reaching forwards, Kuai scooped his little brother up, settling him down onto his lap with a gentle squeeze. Tomas squirmed slightly, getting himself comfortable before going lax with a big sigh, squishing his cheek against his brother’s chest, grey eyes peering up to meet his brown ones. “Are you meditating?”

Kuai sighed, resting his hands back on his knees, palms up, just as before. The warmth of Tomas' body against his own was grounding, a soothing contrast to the restless energy that had been coursing through him just moments before. “Trying to.”

“I didn’t think you liked meditating.” Tomas, true to his word, was ‘quiet’, not silent. Kuai should’ve expected that, he supposed. Not that he had the heart to call out the toddler on it. After all, Tomas was five. “Do you?”

He closed his eyes, inhaling slowly, “Not really, no.”

“Then why do it?” There were tiny fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt, holding on tight. He could feel them through the thin material. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, little one.” Kuai sighed, cracking open an eye to peer down at his brother. Tomas’ own were half-lidded with exhaustion, partially hidden behind strands of curled grey hair, “Better now that you’re here.”

As the words left his mouth, he realised how much he actually meant them. Tomas had a way of softening the world around him, cooling the tension that had built up inside Kuai like water to a flame. Tomas' eyelids fluttered, a soft, weary hum escaping his lips as his tiny body relaxed more into Kuai's warmth. He clung to his older brother like a lifeline, his small fingers tightening around the fabric of Kuai's tunic.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Tomas whispered quietly, his eyes closed.

Kuai allowed his own eyes to close, settling down into the meditative state he had tried so hard to accomplish earlier. It came with ease, this time. “Of course.”

 "I... I had a bad dream," Tomas mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Kuai's brow furrowed slightly, though his eyes remained closed. "What was it about?"

Tomas hesitated for a moment. “I don’t know.” He confessed, “There was lots of shouting, and bad men. I couldn’t find you or Bi.”

Kuai hated that he knew exactly where those dreams probably stemmed from. Tomas couldn’t have nightmares like a typical child- of monsters under the bed, or skeletons in the closet. Tomas dreams stemmed from the murder and bloodshed he had witnessed at such a tender age. This wasn’t the first one the toddler had told him about, nor would it be the last. He could only hope that more of them stayed like this- less articulate, and more blurry. For Tomas’ sake.

"You don’t have to worry about that happening, Tomas," Kuai murmured, his voice steady but soft as he lifted a hand, stroking his brother’s back gently. “You’ll always have me and Bi-Han. We’re not going anywhere.”

Tomas shifted, resting his cheek more fully against Kuai’s chest, his breathing evening out slowly. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

A small, contented hum escaped the boy. Kuai continued to hold him close, his hand lightly trailing through the pale, smoky strands of Tomas' hair, untangling the knots from what he assumed had been restless tossing and turning. The act was soothing, not just for Tomas, but for Kuai as well. In the quiet of the room, the earlier frustration and self-doubt felt far away, replaced by a simpler, purer duty: being here for his little brother. That he could do. He couldn’t fail at that like he could other things.

“I wish Bi was here too,” Tomas said after a long stretch of silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “He always makes me feel better.”

Kuai smiled faintly at that, though that familiar pang of irritation prickled at his chest. "Bi-Han can’t always be around, Tomas,” he said, keeping his tone gentle despite the thoughts churning through his mind. “But I’m here. Isn’t that good enough?”

Tomas tilted his head slightly, eyes no doubt opening just a fraction to peer up at Kuai’s face. Not that Kuai was looking himself. He couldn’t bring himself to. To see the longing and yearning that Tomas’ gaze no doubt had for their ‘perfect’ older brother. “You’re both good.” The boy said quietly after a moment, “Just different goods. But both good.”

The simplicity of the statement almost made Kuai laugh. Tomas, in his own innocent way, had summed up what Kuai had been grappling with all damn night- the differences between him and Bi-Han, and the heavy weight of always feeling like he fell short. It was a child's perspective, unburdened by the complexities of rivalry or expectation. “How so?”

“Bi is strong and scary. He makes me feel safe.” Tomas yawned, cuddling closer. “You’re warm. And funny. You make me feel happy.”

“I’m glad you think so, little one.” Kuai’s smile softened, though he couldn’t entirely shake the lingering sting of self-doubt. “But I think you like Bi more.”

Tomas’ hand slapped against his chest lightly, as if scolding him. "No. I like you, Kuai.” He pressed his cheek further against Kuai’s chest, nuzzling into him like a cat seeking more warmth. “You remind me of my mama.”

That made Kuai pause, the words sinking in slowly. He couldn’t help but open his eyes to regard the toddler nestled against him. "I do?" 

“Mmm.” Tomas nodded sleepily, his own eyes closed. He didn’t elaborate, but Kuai didn’t need him to. That one sentence spoke volumes just by itself.

Kuai’s heart ached in a different way now- a warm, tender ache. He hadn’t realised that such simple acts- acts that were, deep down, truly his, not a reflection of his want to be like his older brother, had had such a deep effect on Tomas. Had led to him being considered on par with Tomas’ mother of all people.

Maybe… Maybe he didn’t need to be perfect like Bi-Han. Not in the sense he was thinking, at least- in the sense that Tomas was showing him.

“Thank you, Tomas,” Kuai whispered, brushing a soft kiss against the top of his brother’s head. “That means a lot to me.”

Tomas didn’t respond, already drifting off into sleep, his small body fully relaxed against Kuai’s. Kuai held him there for a long, long time, simply listening to the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing, his own heart finally finding a moment of peace in the quiet of the night alongside it.