nobodytouchesthehat

[nobodytouchesthehat]

[nobodytouchesthehat]

“Without pain, how would they know pleasure?”

Tango Evelynn & Tango Twisted Fate

[nobodytouchesthehat]

Expression

[nobodytouchesthehat]

Roses are red, Violets are blue, if you wanna make TF and Eve have a background, do it my dude. <3

Gold Cards are best, they hold you in place.All the time and effort I put into this has gone to waste.I’ll write what I want, I always do.But it’s not like this news doesn’t sting, my dude.

[nobodytouchesthehat]

A rioter on the boards that TF and Eve's previous relationship is completely non-canon because "TF would not survive such an encounter" (i may be somewhat misquoting that). So that's why there's no interaction. However, the canon AU that the tango skins are based in is still fully intact so there's that. Sorry man.

// I didn’t find that exact quote but

[nobodytouchesthehat]

As the third annual “Cut a Rug Invitational” goes underway, Evelynn wonders to herself why she even comes to these things anymore. Forget a good dance, she can’t even get a good meal. All these stringy idiots wouldn’t know a Flamenco Step if it impaled them through the foot. Though she’s surprised to see more than one wallflower here. She can’t quite see his face from his hat tilted so low, but she knows a rich man when she sees one. That suit is tailor made and incredibly expensive, nothing that hugs that tightly and yet pulls off such sharp elegant lines could be bought with anything less than inheritance or blood money. That’s just the spice this night needed. She’s not too lost in thought to realize he’s approaching her. He’s noticed her watching and decided to reciprocate. Like a moth to a flame. Dust flitters from her fingertips and in the dark haze away from the spotlights on the center of the dance floor, floats imperceptibly around her. He takes a big inhale before he says anything. Hook, line, and sinker.

“I didn’t think anyone else’d show up without a partner.”

Interesting accent. Though she’s been around enough to pin it down. “You’re a long way from the slaughter docks, sailor.”  That gets a laugh out of him, the dust is working faster than she thought. “How’s about we skip the pleasantries an’ show these kids how it’s done?” She’d play coy, but no one would wear a dress like this and stilettos if they weren’t prepared to dance. “You think you can keep up with me?” She sees the edges of his grin peek out from the rim of his hat, lifting to see the green glint in his eyes for the first time. “I’m itchin’ t’ try.”

It was a night to remember, to say the least. So many of the contestants broke into sweats it’s hard to tell if this was a dance or an exhibition. The way the two of them moved it’s like they’ve been doing this for years. Old lovers rekindling a star of passion and ecstasy that extended well beyond the dance floor. Whether it was frustration or excitement, she couldn’t handle being lead anymore. Taking full control as she always does, he was more than willing to oblige. She was rough with him. Aggressive in so many more ways than one and he never told her to stop. The scars she left all over his body will never heal properly, and he wore them like badges of honor. If she weren’t so satisfied, she would’ve had to put genuine thought into whether or not to kill him. It’d be a waste, she rationalized, and she could always do it later when he stopped being fun.

But he never did. The gifts were nice, she made good use of his deep pockets to get all the things she couldn’t be bothered to steal, but what surprised her more was the aftercare. Touchy feely is definitely not her forte, and she doesn’t even try even after her more sadistic of ventures, but after a quiet moment of bandaging and applying any salves or healing tonics he has stored up he gets.... Affectionate. Sickeningly affectionate. She thought it was the dust to begin with, she had dosed him occasionally to keep him in a haze about the more painful side of her play, but he kept doing it. Even without her intervention. It’s curious to her, curious enough to make her experiment. She’d push his limits. Press his buttons with a a clawed edge and really drive it home. Hurt him in ways that will permanently scar him. Ways that, to this day, haven’t healed properly and will always buzz with a low-level discomfort at best. Ways that border, edge, and go beyond torture. Degrading him, humiliate him, strip him down to the bone to see what kind of person is really there. And each and every time, after a small moment to lick his wounds. He’d be... Affectionate. Sickeningly affectionate. Enough to give her pause, to make her question. She’s never had a toy this resilient, and he’s never even uttered their safe word as a joke, like she’d listen. No matter what she does he doesn’t so much as complain. She thought mortals were predictable, she thought all mortals had a breaking point. She’s not even getting pleasure out of this anymore, the more she presses the more affectionate he is. Why?

What game is he playing? What’s his goal?

Just who does he think he is? She corners him, one day. Pinning him to the bed, enough with the glamors, no more illusions, claws wrapped around his biceps. She has to know. He’s not an idiot, she’s made sure of that. She wouldn’t have enjoyed herself half as much if his wit wasn’t as sharp. He’s smiling, is she not baring her fangs enough? How are you supposed to look intimidating to a man like this? “Startin’ a lil’ early, aren’t we?” “Why?” The words catch in her mouth, she’s so angry she can barely think straight. So many questions they’re fighting to escape her tongue.

“Why what?” “Why do you let me do this to you? You scream and you wail but you never say stop. I’ve done things to you that no one should be able to stomach, let alone enjoy, Why?!” “Ain’t it obvious?” The words slide around her like a comforting hand, something she’s so unfamiliar with. “I love you.” She almost retches, she’d laugh if he wasn’t so stupid. Maybe she misjudged him. This is it, she thinks, she’s going to kill him. “Are you this dense? It’s the Dust, you idiot. You don’t love me, I made you think you do.” He’s chuckling. Why is he laughing? At a time like this?! Her claws extend, tearing holes into the bed slowly. “You have to know, don’t you? You can’t not know what I am.”

“Sugar, I’ve always known.” Her heart stops. She thought she’d been stringing him along. Leaving him too deluded to realize or in a deep enough haze to care. “You don’t approach a lady like you without knowin’ what yer’ gettin’ into.” “You what?”

She slides off of him, and he sits up. She catches herself admiring the way his hair falls over his face for a moment, snapping back to look in his eyes. The conversation seems to last an eternity. He details every little bit of how he came to fall for her, and despite his better nature and even his survival instincts all the times he stayed rather than leave when he had the chance. She’d thought, all this time, she was poisoning him. But the very fact she hadn’t killed him has proven she was being poisoned, too. It’s why, in that moment, she couldn’t bring herself to drive her claws into his throat. Every fiber of her being resisted, which was so unlike her she couldn’t understand. Where along the way did she stop leading?

She disappeared for days, as was her prerogative. His home was always open to her and he always knew she’d be back, but this was a lot longer than usual. Not to sew the seeds of longing as she usually had. Each moment apart was an agony she was unfamiliar with, and she detested the aching she felt in the pit of her gullet. It’s not hunger, it was so much worse.

It’s only after days deliberation did she realize what she held in her hands. With fingers like daggers she cradled the thought as carefully as she could manage. Laboring over it’s impact and weight. She knew what infatuation was, she was acutely aware of how to stimulate a feeling love-adjacent with a few chemical triggers. Everything manageable, always in control. Yet he had her pegged from the moment they locked eyes, and decided to stay. She did underestimate him. She didn’t give him nearly enough credit. He saw her for what she was and could still say that without a hint of sarcasm and without a whiff of chemical encouragement.

“I love you.” She held real, unselfish, unconditional love in the palm of her hand. At any other moment she would’ve relished in the delightful agony killing him would bring. The pain of heartbreak and the despair of betrayal as life left his eyes. It’d be fitting, only fair for him after all he’s done to her. But how could she destroy something so valuable?

In the end she never was one for touchy feely. She still isn’t. She knew the rumors would rise and people would talk, but he wouldn’t. He was a man of character despite himself, and if anyone would keep tight lipped it would be him. They could go back to their personas, go back to their lives as they knew it and pretend none of this mattered. That none of it had an such a powerful effect on each other. She did the nicest thing she could think of, and broke his heart.

[nobodytouchesthehat]

“THE SPLASH HER VOICE LINES HER VOICE EVERYTHING IS SO GOOD AAAH”

[nobodytouchesthehat]

“Oh shit the Eve Rework! Maybe now Riot will hard confirm anything about their relationship, if it still happened or no-” No Interactions No mention in lore Lore isn’t posted yet but I’m not holding my breath

[nobodytouchesthehat]

He doesn’t like how close she’s getting, and she knows it. He’s getting a whiff of her perfume, bringing on his baser desires and more shameful emotions. It has been a while since they’ve seen each other and it’s been a while in general. He’s not drunk enough to willingly tell her off, and more than that what could he say that’d make her actually stay away that wouldn’t end in his decapitation? He likes his head, thank you very much. It’s where he keeps his hats. “Guess I don’t have much say in this either way, do I?” A test, maybe? It’s not a no, but it’s a reluctant yes. To his memory she’s liked it better when he actively surrenders, not when he just gives up. He’s not sure when he got so comfortable with being hunted, but he’ll hate himself later. He always does.

Hello Sweetness

nobodytouchesthehat:

Against his better nature he does the trick she likes so much. Riffling a red card from his sleeve and flicking the corner with his thumb. A small flame neatly burning at the edge he touched and holding it to her cigarette. As it’s lit he gives it a cursory flick and as it leaves his hand the flame consumes the rest of it leaving nothing behind, not even ash. Above them, the card served a second purpose. A circle of cards much smaller than necessary to transport a humanoid flutters into existence, and her coat descends less than gracefully into his waiting palm. Holding it out to her with all the respect he’s willing to give her. “I quit smokin’, case you forgot.” This tango of respect and cold distancing doesn’t quite give her the wiggle room she wanted, but the fact that he came at all could be something to work.

“I always try to offer anyways…on the off chance you’ll misbehave.” She winks, and her lips part to put the cigarette between them.

It’s all a show, really. Damn him, he’s cheated her out of the game again. She needed to re-examine why she liked the gamblers so much when they did shit like this. She never had liked to lose.

She pocketed the spare cig and gingerly took the mess of studded leather from him and slipped it over her shoulders, not bothering to actually slide her arms into the sleeves. She blows smoke from her nose and removes the cigarette from her lips and leans forward just enough to eliminate the bubble of his personal space. “You were very good today. You never have really lost your touch. If they pay me more than he’s worth, I may just bring you a gift. You still like that one top shelf brandy, don’t you? The name will come to me.” 

She leans even closer, the tip of her nose a few inches from his own. “Thank you for your help, Sweetness. You may just see me again soon enough. We’ll see.”

[nobodytouchesthehat]

Against his better nature he does the trick she likes so much. Riffling a red card from his sleeve and flicking the corner with his thumb. A small flame neatly burning at the edge he touched and holding it to her cigarette. As it’s lit he gives it a cursory flick and as it leaves his hand the flame consumes the rest of it leaving nothing behind, not even ash. Above them, the card served a second purpose. A circle of cards much smaller than necessary to transport a humanoid flutters into existence, and her coat descends less than gracefully into his waiting palm. Holding it out to her with all the respect he’s willing to give her. “I quit smokin’, case you forgot.” This tango of respect and cold distancing doesn’t quite give her the wiggle room she wanted, but the fact that he came at all could be something to work.

Hello Sweetness

nobodytouchesthehat:

He’d long since turned around before she started. He calls it keeping a lookout but anyone with a lick of sense would take one look at the carnage and decide it’d be better if they didn’t see anything. You never get used to the sickening crunch of bone and slick gushing of blood. The pained pleas of mercy drowned out by the guttural sputters of air leaving their newly created openings. Then, silence. And the click of her heels. It was over, and he could breathe a sigh of relief. Pushing off from the wall he was leaning against. Her thanks are wasted, he was about to weasel out of his involvement with the common, tried and true methodologies. Mutual enemy, mutually beneficial, I barely did anything, etc. But that last little question ticks him off just the right way. The audacity of it alone is enough to make him laugh. It’s nothing less than he’d expect from her, she always did look after number one, so why wouldn’t she abdicate her responsibility at any opportunity? Remove herself from the situation like he just had a psychotic episode and left her stunned in an alley for absolutely no reason and without provocation in the slightest. Taking care of herself, mentally, physically, emotionally. It’s what she’s best at after all. The laughter peters out as he rubs his cheek. Like most things involving Evelynn he made himself sad almost instantly, and sighs to himself. He’s too tired to argue, and indulging her is always easier. Must be his natural state, indulging her. “Sure. I’m sorry you stole my hat.”

It wasn’t the reaction she’d expected, nor the one she wanted. That wasn’t the tone of laugh that she liked to hear. More wheedling would be required.

“It was only a tease. No need to overreact. You were going to get it back. Just like me getting my jacket back.” She closes the gap between them slowly, stepping around any rivulets of blood still remaining on the cobblestones. She tucked the long magenta strand of one of her bangs behind a pointed ear once she stopped next to him. She looked where he did. Nobody out here. Good. No cleanup necessary. The sump-snipes would handle the goons pockets, and if they were still alive after that, the rats would handle the rest.

“Did you bring it with you? Or are you going to take me home to go get it?” She kept her tone playful, despite the fact he obviously did not want to play her game. It didn’t matter. She’d make him a player eventually. She cocked a hip and rustled around in another pocket to find her silver cigarette case. She removed two, then slid the case back into her pocket. She took one, but her other hand slid up his back and rested onto his shoulder, with the extra between her fingers.

Yes. Take me back to your place.

“Want it?”

[nobodytouchesthehat]

RULES: YOU CAN ONLY SAY GUILTY OR INNOCENT.  YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO EXPLAIN ANYTHING UNLESS SOMEONE MESSAGES YOU OR ASKS YOU. REPOST DON’T REBLOG!!

TAGGED BY: @hate-spiked

Asked someone to marry you? GUILTY Kissed one of your friends? INNOCENT Danced on a table in a bar/tavern? GUILTY Ever told a lie? GUILTY Had feelings for someone whom you can’t have? GUILTY Ever kissed someone of the same sex? GUILTY Kissed a picture? INNOCENT Slept in until 5pm? GUILTY Fallen asleep at work/school? GUILTY Held a snake? GUILTY Been suspended from school? INNOCENT Worked at a fast food chain/restaurant? INNOCENT Stolen something? GUILTY Been fired from a job? GUILTY Done something you regret? GUILTY Laughed until something you were drinking came out of your nose? INNOCENT Caught a snowflake on your tongue? INNOCENT Kissed in the rain? GUILTY Sat on a roof top? GUILTY Kissed someone you shouldn’t? GUILTY Sang in the shower? GUILTY Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on? GUILTY Shaved your head? INNOCENT Slept naked? GUILTY Had a boxing membership? INNOCENT Made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? GUILTY Been in a band? INNOCENT Shot a gun? GUILTY Donated blood? GUILTY Eaten alligator meat?   GUILTY Eaten cheesecake? GUILTY Still loved someone you shouldn’t? GUILTY Have/had a tattoo? GUILTY Liked someone, but will never tell who? GUILTY Been too honest? GUILTY Ruined a surprise? GUILTY Ate in a restaurant and got really bloated that you can’t walk after? INNOCENT Erased someone in your friends list? GUILTY Dressed in a man’s clothes? GUILTY Joined a pageant? INNOCENT Been told that you’re beautiful by someone who totally meant what they said?   GUILTY Still have communication w/ your ex? GUILTY Cheated on someone? INNOCENT Got totally drunk one night and you have an important exam tomorrow morning? INNOCENT A total stranger treated you by paying your fare? INNOCENT Got so angry that you cried? INNOCENT Tried to stay away from someone for their own good? GUILTY Thoughts about suicide? GUILTY Thoughts about murder? GUILTY How about Mass Murder? INNOCENT Rode in a stranger’s vehicle? INNOCENT Stalked someone? INNOCENT Had a girlfriend/boyfriend? GUILTY Gotten totally drunk during a holiday? GUILTY

RESULTS: 36 GUILTY / 18 INNOCENT

[nobodytouchesthehat]

Surprises

February 12, 22 CLE.

It was getting cold outside…much too cold. She needed to come home. Wanted it, even.

She supposed to an extent she did feel guilty about lying to him but it was a necessary evil. It was all to make her easier to handle, more palatable. She’d said it was for an extensive job, somewhere far away, but the truth was more sinister. She’d been so, so very hungry. So many nights of full body aches for so desperately wanting food…real food. Not pork and raw steaks. It wasn’t enough. So she’d gone a little crazy. She’d gone to the forests outside of Noxus and gorged herself on unwary travelers. Undoubtedly the bones picked clean would be blamed on razorbeaks or murkwolves. She’d done this so she could try to go longer this time without having to relapse. Nobody could say she wasn’t trying.

Fully sated, she’d made her way back to Zaun. She wrapped herself in her coat, nuzzled her chin down into the collar, to keep the cold out. The coat was still a pristine white, just as if he’d just bought it, and not like she had used it as a blanket while she slept in the wild. Her fine claws had been enough to pick the moss and bark out of the fine minkfur. Her hair and skin, however, were in a much worse state. A detour into a bar would fix that.

Evelynn sauntered in, and she was surprised. This place was crawling with people. It was only seven. On a Tuesday. She scuttled past them with collar drawn up for obscurity into the bathrooms, and began the process of scrubbing her body clean with sinkwater, and using paper towels to dry down. Her hair, once magenta, had faded to a dull mauve from the exposure to the sun. She’d have to dye it again soon, but she didn’t want to waste too much time. She’d already sent him word she’d be home tonight. She didn’t want to disappoint.

Clean and dry, she reached into her pocket and withdrew a bottle of perfume. Another gift from him. She’d been skeptical of it at first. What did men know of perfume other than price tag? But it had become her favorite…and his too. She stalked out of the bathroom, but paused when she heard the singer on stage begin to speak.

“This next number is dedicated to the lovers in the crowd. A song for Heartseeker’s Day.”

Fuck. It was Heartseeker’s Day? Suddenly the crowd made sense, as did all the women in pinks and reds and violets.

She had no real understanding of what it entailed. She knew Heartseeker’s Day as the prime day for agony harvesting in years pasts. Single people on this day were always so much more lonely, and so much more willing to turn a blind eye to her blue skin for a little company. But now that she was in a relationship? Not a fucking clue.

Flowers were for women. She couldn’t get him flowers. Sex was inevitable. It always was, especially since she’d been gone for a little over a week now. He’d be ready to strip her at the door, most likely. That would be no special gift either. What did he want? The muscle tissue and flesh getting digested in her stomach said it all.

He’d like to see her try to eat. He always did. It gave him a lot of joy in those big green eyes to watch her put animal meat in her mouth instead. She didn’t want to eat it and potentially get sick, and waste all this effort. But maybe, just maybe, this time she wouldn’t get hungry like that again. A few streets down, she was familiar with a restaurant that was Ionian-owned. Zaunites and Piltovians alike loved their foreigner food. She made a beeline through the tables of the bar, and slyly filched a man’s coinpurse as she passed.

She made her way to the restaurant. The owners turned pale at her appearance. She paid them no heed. She pointed long fingers at random items on the menu. She also requested any raw pork they had. They obeyed her command with shaking hands, and She left the entire bag of golden hexes for them. They seemed relieved to see her leave, and her pointed ears picked up the sound of the placard being flipped to “close” as she walked out. She’d done them a favor.

She wisped and wound her way within the shadows to his “safehouse”. It was truly an unfitting word for a place so opulent. She didn’t bother to ask how he afforded it or how he hadn’t been found. Just like he probably wouldn’t bother to ask where she’d truly been. They always took things at face value; it was the easiest way. She was nearly stopped at the entrance, but an unearthly growl made the door boy turn a blind eye. They simply didn’t want just anyone let into The Dalton Waltz Grand.

Up the elevator. Thirty floors. To the very top.

The doors dinged, and the elevator attendant let her through the interwoven iron grate. He frowned at her, sneered down his nose. She returned his distaste with a threatening smile, baring her two sets of pointed canines. These hotel boys needed to fuck off. She had a man…and she guessed herself, too…to feed. 

The clicking of her heels was muffled by the plush red rug that wound down the entire hallway. At the end of the rug was a door, for which she had the key…somewhere. She patted her body with her free hand, as the other was occupied by the paper bags full of Ionian fare. Shit, had it fallen out of her pocked in the woods? Damn it. It just was not her day. She jammed a long claw into the keyhole. The locking mechanism broke but her claw did not, though it’s layer of expensive lacquer had been scraped off. She stepped through the door and closed it. She’d call maintenance up to come fix it eventually, when she wasn’t around to take the blame.

The living room was empty of her Gambler. Strange. He was always home to greet her. He always seemed to just know when she’d arrive and he was always on the couch, inexplicably. Big grin across his lips, eyes twinkling. She wondered if he’d ever ported there with his magic, just to not break the tradition. Knowing him and his love of being showy as possible, it was a pretty high probability.

But now, the tradition was broken. Where was he?

“Twisty?” Evelynn called. She stepped into the kitchen and unceremoniously dumped the bags of food on the counter. “Twisty, you better not port behind me and grab me, I’m not in the mood.” She growled. All this effort for Heartseeker’s day and he wasn’t even home? Ugh.

Her pointed ears twitched slightly. Was that a grunt…and a sigh? That was him, alright. Unmistakable. She knew all his noises. Why would he be grunting? She sniffed. The air smelled sweet, and the scent originated from the bedroom, behind a closed door.

There better not be another woman in there.

She had no reason to think that he would, but she was nothing if not insanely territorial. She crossed the white carpeting to the door in record time and all but threw it open. “TWISTED FA-….” She paused in her tracks, mid shout. There was no woman. But there was an abundance of chocolate. Just not in a box.

“Oh, Sugar! You’re home. Happy Heartseeker’s Day, Evie.”

Yellow eyes squinted down at him. He was sitting on his rump, on the carpet, one knee bent and the other leg resting on the floor. He was leaned back in a way she presumed was supposed to look seductive, but there was something wrong. His hands were behind his back. He was also nearly nude, and covered in chocolate that he’d clearly painted on himself, as the remnants of the tin and a paintbrush were off to the side on a bedside table.

“What in Runeterra are you doing?” She questioned, baffled.

“I’m surprisin’ you.”

“With….?”

“Me. I’m th’ present.” He winked at her. She scowled.

“What am I supposed to do with you now that you’re covered in a sticky mess? And where are your hands? You’d need those.”

“Yer ‘sposed to lick it off of me.” He stated matter-of-factly. She squinted harder.

“Your girlfriend, who cannot stomach human food, is supposed to lick chocolate off of your chest. Twisty, it’s all caked in your chest hair.”

“Well, it was liquid at one point. I had opened th’ window t’ stay cool while it applied, but I stumbled upon ‘n issue and now…”

“It’s hot as fuck outside…and it’s dried solid. Why haven’t you gotten up to wash it off?”

“I can’t get up.”

“What!? Why?”

“Handcuffs.”

Evelynn rubbed her eyes with her fingertips and sighed loudly. “I’m not playing this game. Port out like you always do when I cuff you and wash up. I brought home dinner.” She went to turn and walk out of the bedroom. She wanted to get a taste of the raw pork in before she had to stomach the rest of the food. 

“Y’ see, the problem here is that I can’t port out.” He called after her.

She turned around “What?”

“Th’ surprise was that I’d gone ‘n had these special cuffs made. I know I get antsy sometimes so I figured I’d get magical enchanted ones for you to put on me. I put the commission in weeks ago.”

“Why can’t you get out?”

“I forgot the password. Remember when y’ wrote that word on that piece of paper I asked you for?”

“Not at all.”

“That was the password I gave to the crafter. I looked at it but I just can’t remember. I’ve been tryin’ all afternoon.”

“Oh my g-…I can’t believe…!” She groaned, exasperated. She didn’t remember the paper at all.” Shouldn’t it be something easy? Like my eye color?”

“Yellow’s the word we use when I want you to lighten up a little on the beatings. I’ve tried Marsupial, Succulent, Capricorn…”

“I’m not a Capricorn. I’m a Scorpio.”

There was an audible click, and his hands came out from behind his back. He sighed in relief and cracked his shoulders with a moan. She smiled at her, the one she missed when he hand’t been on the couch. Her irritation melted.

“Well. Wouldja lookit that?” She merely rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Come on. Let’s go eat.” She pulled him to his feet, and cracklings of the dried chocolate fell onto the carpet. She peeled a piece off of his neck and placed it gingerly on her tongue. It wasn’t super sweet. There was bitterness to it. He’d thought about what type to get…it was just like him.

He watched her eat it, and smiled wider when she didn’t wince. His hand snaked around her waist and he leaned down to kiss her.

[nobodytouchesthehat]

He’d long since turned around before she started. He calls it keeping a lookout but anyone with a lick of sense would take one look at the carnage and decide it’d be better if they didn’t see anything. You never get used to the sickening crunch of bone and slick gushing of blood. The pained pleas of mercy drowned out by the guttural sputters of air leaving their newly created openings. Then, silence. And the click of her heels. It was over, and he could breathe a sigh of relief. Pushing off from the wall he was leaning against. Her thanks are wasted, he was about to weasel out of his involvement with the common, tried and true methodologies. Mutual enemy, mutually beneficial, I barely did anything, etc. But that last little question ticks him off just the right way. The audacity of it alone is enough to make him laugh. It’s nothing less than he’d expect from her, she always did look after number one, so why wouldn’t she abdicate her responsibility at any opportunity? Remove herself from the situation like he just had a psychotic episode and left her stunned in an alley for absolutely no reason and without provocation in the slightest. Taking care of herself, mentally, physically, emotionally. It’s what she’s best at after all. The laughter peters out as he rubs his cheek. Like most things involving Evelynn he made himself sad almost instantly, and sighs to himself. He’s too tired to argue, and indulging her is always easier. Must be his natural state, indulging her. “Sure. I’m sorry you stole my hat.”

Hello Sweetness

hate-spiked:

nobodytouchesthehat:

It’s tempting to follow her example, crush a groveling man beneath his heel, but these are his good running boots. More than that it might excite her a little too much to indulge in his crueler side. Light help him there’s always a drop of sympathy someone can wring out of him for better or for worse. Malyck isn’t one of those people. “You know, there’s one kinda person I dislike more than her.” Hate is such a strong word, and it’s too tempting to blurt out “Myself” to follow it. Instead he squats down to get a good look in his eye. A prediction, he eases his heels down to prepare for any counterattack from their wounded prey as the shimmer leaves his eyes. “It’s fellers like you that get a big head over a fat wallet. How much did y’ spend on yer’ lil’ posse tonight? Probly’ more than I took from you.” He shifts to stand, he’d smoke at this point, if he were so inclined. “Coulda’ made back what y’ lost no problem, but y’ had t’ go an’ get revenge. Like you had my number, you were gonna get the best of Twisted Fate.”

He makes a motion of finality toward Evelynn. He’s said what he has to say.

“Typical. You never want to have any fun with me, Sweetness.” Her slick red lips curl into a pout. There’s a few soft noises under her foot. Incessant groveling and whimpering. How pathetic. She inhaled deeply.

Yes, truly pathetic, but if the scent in the air gave any inclination, it’d taste mighty fine whenever she was ready to dig in. She had some alternative plans, however. She removed her heel from him and sunk on top of him. She wrested his hand that he was trying desperately to keep away from her.

The soft schink of her claw going through bone, and an agonized howl. She wrapped the finger, gold and ruby ring still intact, with a handkerchief she swiped from one of his pockets. With that, she lifted off of him. The second her weight was removed, he tried to scramble away. She almost had the heart to let him make the attempt. Almost. A toss of her wrist, and his entire frame was impaled onto a singular, large hatespike. In a moment, it sunk away, and the shadows claimed his body. She’d hide it away…safekeeping for eating later, when she was hungry.

In truth, she’d already eaten.

“Thank you for your assistance, Twisty. I so very much appreciate it.” She smirked, and tucked the rolled up finger into a pocket somewhere. Her heels cliked up the alleyway towards the mouth, where he was standing. “I like to watch you work. Except when it’s on me.” She paused. Heels stopped clicking. Evelynn stared at him with her golden eyes.

“Aren’t you going to apologize for leaving me in that alley?”

[nobodytouchesthehat]

Finished commission for @hate-spiked and @nobodytouchesthehat ! Thank you very much for the commission<3

Want to support me? Check out my blog for commission information or find me at patreon at /Vishka!

[nobodytouchesthehat]

[nobodytouchesthehat]

10:15

“Dr. Montefiore?” The receptionist paged from the front desk. “Your morning appointment is here.” The Psychiatric office of Piltover is a somewhat crowded place. Being the only officially funded office for Psychologists to practice means they have an influx of patients from both the correctional facilities as well as several drug and hex-tech rehabilitation centers. What isn’t so common is personal appointments. The Noble side of Piltover isn’t quite concerned with their mental health unless it’s something they can’t simply buy their way out of and those who would sincerely require the attention can’t afford it. As much as it might pain him to ignore the cries of the needy much of their funding is predicated on serving assigned clients. Which is what makes their new patient such an oddity. He’s not listed as a citizen as a simple background check turned up less than nothing, but he’s more than willing to pay double the asking price for a consultation so perhaps it’s best to keep this horse’s mouth closed. Figuratively, that is. The Patient, Owen Tobias, arrived on time with a charming demeanor and jovial attitude towards this session. Considering the wealth he displayed and his trim features I can tell he’s a man of distinction. If not in Piltover, elsewhere. He showed the all too common dismissive disposition toward our practice insisting he thought nothing was wrong with him. But, when questioned as to why he made the appointment in the first place, he grew silent for a moment. Agreeing that it was at least a logical viewpoint. The Patient was apprehensive at revealing his past, another common response and I didn’t press more than I needed to. He implied he was previously involved in criminal activities, and I reminded him that this session is confidential and nothing he says can be used against him as evidence. We made headway together speaking about his alcoholism. Revealing to me with no shame or embarrassment that he is a frequent and heavy drinker. Normalization of this behavior is common to mask deeper pain, and we discussed what the origin of that might be. To which he was dismissive, but not defensive of. This implies it is was a social hobby that became twisted as a coping mechanism in response to trauma. The friendly demeanor slowly began to evaporate as he became more comfortable speaking. He became less likely to use turns of phrase or speak around an issue, there is much deep seated trauma  that I’m frankly surprised he’d been able to manage on his own. I asked if he had friends or relatives he could reach out to for support. That elicited a sarcastic laugh, replying if he did, he wouldn’t be here. The patient grew distant visually for a time, and brought up a previous relationship. At this point, we were over time, but as we were getting to the heart of the problem I decided not to interrupt him. He explained that the happiest he’d been previously was with this woman, who he refused to-- Or perhaps simply chose not to-- name.  For my record, I’m quoting the patient verbatim: “I’ve really felt like I can’t do... anything right. I do what I think I should, what feels right, and at best it blows up in my face, or at worst it ruins everything. .... Like there’s a poison inside of me. I poison everything I touch. It doesn’t matter what it is, nothing I get involved with ends well for me. Is that selfish? Am I selfish to want something to go my way for once?” The patient was silent for a time, and as I was about to speak, continued: “All my life I’ve tried to do the right thing and got punished for it. At least when I do something I know is wrong, the outcome isn’t unexpected.” I informed the patient we were over time, and after a few moments of regaining his composure, the jovial personality returned. Apologizing for “Carrying on.” I insisted he return at his earliest convenience, and after a small silence, he said he would. I look forward to his progress.

[nobodytouchesthehat]

A short video about Graves’s backstory is up on Riot’s channel!