#belote

[fidjiefidjie]

Bonjour, bon Dimanche à tous ☕️ 🥐 🍎

Amour et belote 🗼Paris 1950

Photo de Robert Doisneau

[moonlitcomet]

A lil bit of a mini story/rp with some characters we haven't touched in a while. With intermittent art by @sugarratio1

Gore and violence warning near the end!

"If you really want to make it up to me you'll bring him here so I can wring his neck myself."

"That fucker nearly killed my brother, hurt my mom for decades, hurt me my entire childhood. He got our pet killed. The only way I'd ever feel happy seeing him again is if it was in the context of killing him myself."

"I still can't see him as anyone else other than as my son... but him seeing you as nothing is my fault.."

"I fought for what I believed in was right, but I never knew it would made me almost lose everything until I did"

"I'm sorry I couldn't be a great mother to your father. I'm unsure what is right to do anymore, as what I've done didn't make anything better than it was.."

I didn't expect you to offer that as an option.

"If you want to fight for him, this is your last chance."

"Your last chance." she says.

"Either you fight to try to save your son, and my abuser's, life, or I take it from you with no remorse. This is the only chance I will give you to pick what you think is the right path."

"Everytime I fight for something it is taken away a part of my life" Madiao responds.

"There is no right path that I've chosen all this time Samba."

"Yet all I ever wanted was a happy family, but I guess its my fault I have failed at that." She looks at the mechanical arm.

"My son's life is raised, fought for, and protected with that arm."

She pauses.

"This is what you're taking."

The stern look in Samba's gaze softens slightly as she listens to the plight of her grandmother. Sighing, she kneels down to be eye level with Madiao, and puts the mechanical arm back in Madiao's hand. After that, she puts her hands on her shoulders, staring her right in the eyes.

"I'm not heartless." She says softly.

"You won't want to have him leave you without a chance to say goodbye. If you care about him that much, go tell him that you love him."

Her teeth are grit slightly, feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the emotions of the older woman in front of her.

"Make it count. So you won't have anything you regret not telling him."

⚔

She makes sure he feels every last ounce of pain that she and her family felt growing up.

Making sure he screams loud enough to be heard.

And that he screams long enough that he grows too tired to make any more sounds.

Gripping his heart within his chest until it cracks, beating his stomach until he coughs up blood.

Just sheer unfiltered brutality. And catharsis on her end as she finally does unto him what he did to her and her family.

Eventually when he's too weak to move, speak, cough, or even breathe, she slams him against the wall spine-first and stares into his eyes - for the first time in her life, full of fear. Full of terror at her. At what she's done to him.

And she grips his core, and slowly crushes it in her hand until it shatters to pieces. Black, inky tears dripping from her eyes, her teeth sharper than usual and her fur bristling like hackles on a bear. She can hear a distinct crunch from within his chest, and when she pulls her hand out it is covered in yellow shards, digging deep into her palms, her own blood dripping out from her skin and mixing with the blood of her father.

She drops him, having been holding him by his neck, and he remains limp on the ground. all life slowly fading from his body.

💎

When she comes home, she comes home covered in her father's blood, her hand still dripping with fresh wounds. The first thing her mother does is rapidly come to her daughter's aid, wrapping what clean wounds she can find and cleaning off the blood encrusting her fur. As much as she cleans, it still leaves behind thick rusty stains on her white fur.

That can't be him. Can it? It's his color. It's his smell. His blood is staining her hands. My daughter killed the man who brought us so much suffering. And we have the shards of his heart to prove it. But why don't I feel happy? Why don't I feel relieved? I don't feel anything.

As she continues pulling out the shards, her expression doesn't change. Samba's eyes are dark, and she's not really looking at anything other than her hand.

I feel nothing.

She doesn't ask any questions. Everything is already answered just by how Samba looks. It's been so long since Klaver had been a pain in her life and holding her back, she had no idea her girl had so much malice toward him even still. And Samba didn't look entirely relieved either.

Was it really worth all of that?

They both wondered. But it's been done now. They just have to deal with what she's done.

Samba feels numb. She says nothing to her mother, only sitting as she lets Belote tend to her wounds. Eventually she calls for her boyfriend, messaging him that she wants to see him. He comes to visit, and he hugs her as Belote continues to tend to Samba's wounds.

Samba is very quiet, appreciating the comfort from Gabo but not saying much. Belote eventually breaks the silence.

"...did you know she was going to do this?"

"....yes."

"Do... you know what sparked it?"

"I'm not actually sure..."

"...Samba?"

Samba barely jerks to attention as she puts her bloodstained hand on Gabo's back, rubbing the tips of her fingers over his mossy skin as a self-soothing gesture.

"she… I. I don't know. I went there to visit family but Madiao seemed really upset. I don't really remember anything that happened after that."

Her fingers twitch.

"Just anger. And pain. And screaming. And something crunching in my hand."

"And the next thing I knew he was dead."

[chlcavalier]

[hcdahlem]

L’été en poche (24): Paris-Briançon

L’été en poche se poursuit avec «Paris-Briançon». Philippe Besson signe sans doute là l'un de ses romans les plus émouvants. Vous n'oublierez pas de sitôt ces passagers d'un train de nuit, parfaits inconnus au moment de prendre ce train de nuit.

  En deux mots Parmi les passagers qui prennent le train de nuit Paris-Briançon, on trouve un médecin, une assistante de production et ses deux enfants, un couple de retraités, cinq étudiants et un VRP. Des inconnus qui vont faire connaissance et voir leur existence bousculée. Si vous voulez en savoir plus… Ma chronique complète publiée lors de la parution du roman en grand format :…

[meushell]

Liandra, Cordesh, Garshaw, and Background Tok’ra

…and a bit of Martouf.

The Tok’ra (part 1)

Psst. Liandra. Get away from Cordesh.

Cordesh: Which of these two fine two ladies has the prettiest coverings? Liandra: Our dresses? Cordesh: Um… Yes.

Martouf: *Whispers* Liandra might be in danger. Garshaw: Why? Martouf: She is the only person with a speaking role that doesn’t technically have a name.

Garshaw: So what do you think about Martouf’s warning? Cordesh: Nonsense. My host doesn’t technically have a name either, and he had a speaking role. Cordesh’s Host: ⁉️

The Tok’ra (part 2)

“Don’t pay attention to my box.”

“Darn, he noticed my box.” Guard on the Right: “Holy crystals! Is that a long-range visual communications device?!”

Maybe it’s just me, but looks like he’s trying to look around her to see better. (Last picture.)

(Awkward moment.)

“The plague that is the Tok'ra will soon be wiped out!” (Canon quote.) Guard: “WTF did she just say?!”

Impossible to tell with photos, but he jerks a bit when she (he?) starts talking ill of the Tok’ra.

Liandra: “Yea! I’m being rescued! Justice for my symbiote! The show won’t completely forget about us now, will they?”

[heartlandians]

Behind the scenes of Heartland - Season 18. Photos by: Aaron Belot

[arsanimarum]

Les œuvres de Jean Belot curé de Mil-Monts, professeur aux sciences divines & occultes. Lyon, 1672.

[guy60660]

Guy Belot | The Rake

[outofeverythingthisnamewasleft]

[edgarmoser]

MISTINGUETT 1875 - 1956

mistinguett - la belote, crée dans la revue "bonjour paris"

1923

[sakiaii]

lol Kafka with the cards it’s funny because i was checking some vids but i didn’t practice mostly because my deck is a ruined 30 years old deck and belote decks are bigger and softer

[moonlitcomet]

INTERNET BACK DOODLE BLAST

[observatoiredumensonge]

Les nouveaux « tartuffes » de l’OQTF

Encore une appellation, OQTF (Obligation de Quitter le Territoire Français) qui ne sert à rien à part faire croire que le gouvernement travaille. Par Alain Belot (more…) “”

[gtaradi]

Bela – odakle potječe i zašto ju toliko volimo

Tin Đudajek donosi sve o popularnoj kartaškoj igri beli ili belotu, neke zanimljivosti koje sigurno niste znali, recimo da se na Novu godinu 1992. godine u tajnosti održao turnir u beli u najozloglašenijem srpskom koncentracijskom logoru u Srijemskoj Mitrovici.

Bela ili belot kartaška je igra koja se u najvećoj mjeri igra u kontinentalnoj Hrvatskoj s naglaskom na Slavoniju, središnju Hrvatsku, Hrvatsko Zagorje i Međimurje. Osim u Hrvatskoj, bela je popularna i u regiji i karta se u Srbiji, Mađarskoj, Bugarskoj i na većem dijelu Balkana, a bela je i u svijetu i popularna je među armenskom dijasporom. U Dalmaciji, bela nije toliko popularna, već je…

[meushell]

The Artifact

Teen • F/M • 15,163 words • Drama • Mystery Characters

Photos • Juice and Box are from Wiki Commons. • Yosuuf/Garshaw, Jacob/Selmak, Sam Carter, Martouf/Lantash, and Malek.

This particular cover was supposed to go out sooner. I accidentally skipped it.

[jaimelire-france]

Mademoiselle Giraud, ma femme, est un roman lesbien écrit par le dramaturge et romancier français Adolphe Belot.

Ce roman fut un succès de nos arrière-arrière-grands-parents, véritables perles fanées avec pourtant encore du charme.

Bien que désuet aujourd'hui en regard de nos mœurs, il traite en effet de l'homosexualité féminine en 1870.