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Grandmaster Hasashi, I dare you to call Grandmaster Liang whatever nickname you have for him, in front of Johnny Cage.
"I will not." He folds his arms and lifts a brow, the corner his lip curling with disapproval.
"You totally will, dude; it's a dare," says Johnny, appearing as if from nowhere. "Now c'mon, call Chillmaster on over here and let's see what kinda mushy bullshit you got."
If Scorpion thought he could growl and get away with it, he would be doing it right now. "I do not have a nickname for Liang," he says, "I..."
"You super do, though." Johnny catches sight of the grandmaster in question. It is only by coincidence that all three are in the same place at one time, a relatively rare occurrence. He waves the kryomancer over and, delayed only by a few words with one of the cyberized Lin Kuei--Cyrax, by the color of his armor--the man heads over, suspicious, but clearly not offended by the summons.
Hanzo's countenance softens as the other man approaches and likewise, the perpetual ice about Kuai Liang's heart thaws. He bows, and Scorpion returns the gesture. Heedless of Johnny--they are both accustomed to him by now--Sub-Zero clasps his former rival's hands.
"What is it?"
"It is nothing, my Heart... Cage is playing pranks. Again." The side-eye Johnny receives from Scorpion is all the warning he needs to keep his phone stowed and his mouth firmly shut.
"I would be unsettled if the case were otherwise, my Fire," responds Sub-Zero without missing a beat. "At any rate, we have much to discuss and you did say you would join me for tea." The kryomancer's blue eyes fall on Johnny. "You are welcome to join us."
His tone says otherwise and Johnny raises a hand. "Nah, I'm good. Thanks anyway, fellas."
dare meme
If Shang Tsunf is the one who worships Lord Raiden on his knees who worships Kung Lao? Surely not the chosen one, he's far too busy doing chosen one things to terrorize closets to worship the Greatest Kung Lao
Johnny Cage raises both hands to indicate that heās got this oneāagainst everyoneās better judgment.
āWho dāya think Liuās terrorizing those closets WITH? Dudeās too pretty to be on his own.ā
It is Kung Lao appreciation hour? Let's just straight up appreciate that Kung Lao isn't a snack. He's a whole damn meal. Boy is damn sexy.
āPlease do not eat any of my kombatants,ā warns Raiden, lightning dancing over his limbs threateningly. It isnāt clear if heās joking.
āEasy Raidude, they mean heās hot,ā interjects Johnny, intent on saving the day as is his wont. āWhich, I meanā¦ā He tips his sunglasses down and ogles the busty monk. āIf I had to pick a⦠nother monk.ā
āI am standing RIGHT. HERE.ā Kung Lao is, in fact, fairly close by, arms crossed, lips drawn into the pout of irritation that really only enhances their size, shape, and color, all of which are appealing on their own, but in tandem, it is a difficult view to resist.
āI rest my case,ā concludes the actor with a flourish.
There's a curse, muttered low and beneath breath, before calloused fingertips lay claim to Johnny Cage's cheeks with a firm grip. Said grip was used to bodily haul him downward to meet lips that were surprisingly soft, though the way they kissed was anything but. It was take-no-prisoners hard, quickly growing deep thanks to how their tongue fought its way into his mouth--and when it ended? It was with a strangled gasp on their end, the sound feminine in nature.
Johnny could never tell if he offended her or got her engines revving, so to speak. Sometimes it was a combination and he honestly wans't complaining. She was a hard woman to read, Sonya Blade, and that, Johnny assumed, was by design, but when she saw something she wanted, she could always be counted on to go for it and right now it was him, praise god or whomever the fuck was up there, it was him. He responded by folding into the gesture, melting, becoming soft, like putty. She could do with him whatever made her happy. He'd be okay with that.
"You ah... wanna try that again?"
kiss my muse on anon

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johnny best line you've ever delivered
"Wasn't even in a film," he says by way of response. "Totally ad-libbed that shit, but that's why they pay me the big bucks, innit?"
Crossing his arms and nodding, he seems very proud of himself, lost in the memory of it. "Yeah, it was... fuckin' great." He tilted his head as if viewing in on a screen hovering somewhere in the middle distance.
"There I was, facing off against this big asshole with four arms and a bad hairdo... Me? I'm lookin' good...like all things considered, for a guy who's been a couple days at the freakiest resort ever, like, picture some kinda BDSM getaway when you're NOT down with that shit.
"Not saying I'm not, but if you weren't andāwell you get the idea. Anyway, so I take my shades off... gunna give this dude some respect 'cause I watched him straight KILL a man.
"And what's he do? He takes those babies outta my damn hand and CRUSHES THEM! Like, bare-handed CRRRGGHHH, smash. Drops 'em like they're nothing. So what do I say to him? You GOTTA know this one:
"'Those were five hundred dollar sunglasses, asshole' and then I drop into the quickest splits you've ever seen and WHAM!" Johnny mimes punching someone in ye olde cajones. "Gotta say, though," he admits after a moment, cradling his imaginarily bruised fist, "I was NOT expecting the whole... y'know package to be rock solid. I mean I'm good lookin', don't get me wrong, but damn, dude... save some for the ladies or... whatever you're into."
Continued from here with @heamatic
Johnny can sense Cassieās discomfort. He mirrors it, both in his body language and the crazy torrent of his thoughts. This is his fellow soldier, but also his baby girl. He cannot help seeing her that way and it is eating at him that his separation of the two is so difficult. He raised her, howeverāhell, he named her!
āTiff and the girls,ā he echoes, his tone speaking volumes for how much he is not talking about Tiff or the illustrious āgirlsā. It isnāt, in fact, a girl to whom he is referring. He wishes it could be so. He wishes he could just be prying into her personal life as a curious dad, not a concerned father. Somehow, the words have different weight.
āCass⦠I think you know Iām not talking about your usual club crew.ā Johnny Cage feels trapped, disliking this world in which his own mouth cannot work him out of the awkward situation into which it has put him. āListen,ā he amends after a second, pushing his sunglasses up atop his head, eyes the color of the sky focusing on his precious child, so much like her mother, but so much like himācomplete with bad taste in men, apparently. He is older now, however, and his tastes have matured, or at least theyāve turned toward safer waters, so to speak. āYou know I love you, kiddo⦠and you can tell me anythingāI wish you would, but I think I know why you canāt⦠or donāt want to.ā
Iām her old man, he thinks, and this has GOT to be squeezing herāChrist I donāt wanna do this. Professionally, he knows he is obligated to do so. As a member of Special Forces, she cannot be entangled with a mercenary like⦠him. Personallyāthat is his baby girl and the Black Dragonās principle offender would be wise to keep his greasy mitts precisely a million and a half miles away from her.
Johnny: what do you like about being a dad?
āGodās honest truth? That look⦠yāknow, the one she gives me when I do something ridiculously embarrassing and she wants to pummel meājust like āer momābut she canāt, ācause it was funny.ā Johnny chuckles, but the sound is strangely melancholy. āThereās so much more, but itās⦠I dunnoā¦ā He scratches the back of his head and shrugs. Instead of continuing to talk, he gestures toward Cassie as if to say āpart of me is walking around, head held high, showing the world what the Cages are made ofā.