#tire-une-carte

[game-of-kinks]

Laisse de jute - Toutes les cartes sont dispo sur @tire-une-carte Bon jeu !

[would-you-play]

Moving to another blog

As of now, considering it’s been flagged as sensitive and my archives being no longer available, I won’t update this blog with new cards.

I’ve made a loop of the whole batch already made (about 880 cards made it through) so next loop and new cards will be posted here: @re-tire-une-carte

Follow me there so we keep having some fun!

-

A partir de maintenant, considérant qu’il a été flaggé comme sensible et mes archives n’étant plus consultables, je ne mettrais plus ce blog à jour avec de nouvelles cartes.

J’ai partagé l’ensemble des cartes disponibles (environ 880 ont été acceptées) donc la prochaine série, ainsi que les nouvelles cartes seront postées ici: @re-tire-une-carte

Retrouvez moi là bas pour continuer à jouer!

[play-my-game]

The rules of the game are simple

1/ Find someone over 18 ready and WILLING to play with you, and play cards WITHIN LIMITS OF SAID PARTNER.

That’s it. Have fun!

(if ppl want french versions of the cards, they are @re-tire-une-carte )

…

OK, aside of that, open below if you want more details:

a/ Different types of cards mean different uses. At home vs Outdoors or Instant vs Days for example won’t be played at the same time. Adapt accordingly.

b/ First challenge of the card stands for itself and the fun it creates. Bonus part, though, could be exchanged against a reward of some sort, for you to decide (On our side, she earns points to spend on a wish list).

c/ If a card isn’t exactly what you’d like, then just change it to match what would add the most fun to your encounter.

d/ If you want to play a card but don’t have enough knowledge to do it safely, start by practicing with knowledgeable people on a safe environment first.

If you got any questions or cards you’d like to see, feel free to ask and I’ll see what I can do.

Enjoy.

[thetiesthatbind]

(via a color image seen on @tire-une-carte )

[inbabylontheywept]

An Honorary Troll

Breaker paused a moment, taking in the sight of the mage in front of him. The robes, the beard, the aloof expression - those were all typical.

The staff was not.

“You cast with that?” he asked, half impressed.

The mage swung the thing off his shoulders overhand and planted its blade into the dirt. It was the first truly threatening staff Breaker had ever seen. The blade on its end was almost as long as the haft itself, counterbalanced at the end by a polished lump of amber larger than a goose's egg. The damn thing looked more like a polearm than a casting aid.

Breaker waited a few moments to see if the human was going to respond to his question. He didn’t. Part of him, the proud part, was happy to finally be taken seriously. The smart part of him suspected he was going to miss the advantage of being underestimated.

Breaker unslung his massive warhammer from his shoulders, its half-slowed fall still weighty enough to be felt through the mages thick work boots, loud enough to be felt in both of their chests.

Then he blitzed the length of the bridge.

The mage’s eyes widened, his wizened hands beginning to twitch out a ward. Breaker knew there wasn’t time. The gap was too short. He was already beginning his overhead swing of the hammer, half falling, the full power of his speed, strength, and weight poured into one crushing blow. He knew that the secret to hitting a mage was giving them everything you had, as hard as possible, as fast as possible, as close as possible. The more time they had to think and react, the more dangerous they’d become, and the more time he had needed to chase and smash, the more tired he’d get. Thank the Gods this was gonna work. Extended fights were-

The wizard grinned.

A spell went off. Not a ward. Simpler. A small jet of flame shot out of the amber orb, rotating the blade to vertical in a fraction of a second. The wizard half relaxed as he planted the staff in the gravel, looking forward like a huntsman versus a charging boar.

Breaker knew he couldn’t slow down. He couldn’t dodge. The one mercy he could see was that the tip was aimed at his chest, not his gut. He’d rather choke on blood than rot from the inside. He closed his eyes before impact, not wanting to see the blade sink into him.

It didn’t.

He heard the crunch of gravel give way to the crunch of his nose as the mage threw a haymaker into his sidestep, staff moved helpfully to the side. He was half glad for the blow because it helped him get his center of balance back under him again. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to get a blow in with the hammer again, it needed too much time to build momentum, but he still turned to face the wizard, every instinct insisting that he couldn’t take his eyes off the little man for more than a moment.

He turned out to be right. If he’d turned his head half as fast he wouldn’t have had enough time to dodge the cudgel end of the staff, swung like a bat at the back of his skull. If he hadn’t been outmaneuvered at every step of this fight, he’d have assumed that swinging from the direction his bad eye was on was just luck. The fact that he knew it was intentional implied that his opponent had a level of martial expertise that even most knights lacked.

With no space to use the hammer, he used the next best weapon in his arsenal: His body. His leg snapped out hard, his massive height letting him connect the blow easily with the old man’s chest. He felt something give, and watched with some small satisfaction as the human went bouncing down the bridge’s center path

Well, he didn’t need an invitation.

He couldn’t move quite as the fast as he’d launched the mage away, but it was a close thing. The pause gave him time to get the momentum he needed to swing the hammer. He felt like an ox behind a cart, the weight behind building into something unblockable, undodgeable, un-

Unbelievable.

The little man ended his tumble on all fours, splayed like a tree frog. The hammer was already bearing down on him, too late in the swing for Breaker to change course, even as he watched the final twitch that signaled a ward was cast. The hammer slammed into the mages hunched back harmlessly, the force of the blow charging the ward like a magical battery. The maniacal grin the little man had worn ever since that first blitz widened half a step further, silver molars on full display, and then-

He flew. Rather than directing the force into some sort of attack, rather than buying himself time and space, the two classical friends of all mages, the little bastard directed all of his stored up energy downwards. The blast launched him up, bringing him from all fours at shin height to eye level in a fraction of a second. He probably would’ve headed up another six or seven feet if he hadn’t grabbed ahold of Breaker’s left horn. His upward momentum swung him full circle around it, his journey ending abruptly as he drove the armored soles of both of his decidedly un-wizardly boots into the back of Breaker’s skull.

If Breaker had been an ogre, or a nightkin, or even a giant, he’d have been out cold. But Breaker was a full-blooded troll, and the horns on his head weren’t just for ornamentation. If he charged a brick wall there was a coin flips chance he’d be the winner. The boots never stood a chance.

The wizard managed to get two more vicious, if slightly panicked kicks in before Breaker’s fists managed to catch up. They grabbed him by the collar of his coarse green robe and yanked him forward, over his shoulder. The old man looked slightly sheepish, dangling from the inhumanely large hands of his opponent.

Breaker cut to the chase.

“You could’ve killed me on the first charge.”

The mage nodded. There wasn’t a whole lot else he could do. His robes were caught so tightly in the troll’s grasp that they acted like a straitjacket.

“Why didn’t you?”

The wizard went for earnestness. He’d been told it was his saving grace.

“You did not deserve death. This is your bridge. I just could not afford the toll.”

The robe tightened further as the troll’s fist clenched.

“Do you wish that you killed me when you had the chance?”

The wizard snorted.

“Murder you, for the price of a goat? No. If I could make a wish, I’d wish I could swim.”

The troll let go with one fist, its thumb trailing back to its mouth. A large, sharp tooth clamped down on the meaty pad of the digit, drawing a thick bead of green blood. The wizard’s confusion blossomed into disgust as the ichor was smeared from his forehead to his chin.

“The fuck-”

His curse was interrupted by the troll.

“I have decided to make you kin. And my first gift to you, great kin, is to grant you your wish.”

The second fist, the one still gripping the front of the wizard’s robes, flung itself forward. The wizard barely had a moment to curse before plummeting into the water below.

Several seconds passed.

Breaker waited.

The wizard arose, sputtering, from the depths. He turned, trembling from the cold, the rage, and the sheer disbelief of what he was experiencing.

“It’s four feet deep.”

Breaker nodded.

“Yes.”

It was almost heartwarming, the way the wizard laughed as he began wading his way towards the far shore. Breaker’s hands gingerly roamed over the goose eggs growing from the back of his head, larger than his own horns had been when he’d passed the trials of manhood.

If nobody gave you headaches like kin, that little man was troll enough for a small army.

[thesharktanksdriver]

Little Blue (Platonic)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐. 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐀𝐠𝐞

𝐈 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐨, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬, 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐟 𝐈 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐠𝐞

As Leon solves a puzzle inside the windmill that opens a gate, your left trailing behind the government agent as he takes the lead

You remain quiet as you follow him

A layer of awkwardness over you as you don’t really know what to say to him

Like at this point what do you ask him about?

‘Hey this is pretty wild eh?’ Or ‘where you from?’

Not that you really want to start a conversation anyways

Your just tired and relived

But with that comes a certain sense of melancholy that fills you to the brim

Mom should be here with you

She should be alongside you and Leon

She’s not though and that kills you more than ever

A certain static of sorts filling your mind as you walk alongside the man across a bridge

You feel hollow, your falling in a deep abyss of the sea as chi and drag you down-

“Hey, are you alright?”

Your snapped from your thoughts and see Leon staring at you from over his shoulder

There’s worry in his eyes again like before

There’s a house in the distance that looms over him just as your thoughts do

“Oh uh yeah. I’m fine, just zoning out”

A breeze goes past and rattles the chains

“You sure?”

You lie

“Yeah, I’m just quiet”

Your father would argue with that statement but you put up a small smile to try and seal the deal

It works somewhat

You see he’s still worried but nods as you both approach the old dilapidated house

Your surprised it’s still standing and that sentiment goes to every other building in this place

He goes up to its gate and pushes against it

“Locked, damn it”

“Looks like this is the only way then”

A cart blocked the path but was little work for the two of you to push

Though it smelt like shit and made you gag

That action seems to get some amusement from Leon

The path seems narrow and divides into two different ways

And up above there’s a bridge-

“Look out!”

Suddenly he grabs you pulling you to the other path as rocks up above explode and crumble down to obscure the other path

“Un forastero!”

“Shit!”

You can say that for sure

Leon aims up as you focus on the villagers getting closer on the path

The red9 in your hands feels heavier as you aiming at the head of a woman

You know she’s not who she once was

That your putting her out of her misery yet you still find it hard to pull the trigger

Until you think of your mom

A shot rings out and another again

Her head explodes open in a gush of red

Your motionless as you stare down at the blood and brain matter now scattered across the old dirt ground

Did she have family outside the village?

Inside her mind was she begging for death?

Was a part of her still conscious?

Was-

A hand is placed on your shoulder and you flinch

Almost pulling the trigger again and wasting a bullet

“Was that…”

You don’t need him to finish the sentence to know what he’s insinuating

“Y..yeah”

He nods and you can see sympathy in those blue eyes that had seen horrors beyond your imagination

“It’s…hard at first, especially now with how sentient they seem. But remember survival, they won’t hesitate to take or hurt you. It’s you or them and they won’t hesitate.”

You nod again

“They’re long gone and you still need to get home. Alright?”

“Yeah”

He offers his hand and you take it, guiding you around the bodies as you slightly walk behind him

He squeezes and you squeeze back

A small sign of comfort that helps you enough to stop thinking about those thoughts before and move on

Entering into a dark tunnel you stick closer to his side even with the exit shining brightly not so far away

Your still not trust anything from popping out the darkness

It’s no surprise that when two bats fly by you jump

Leon stops and crouches

You do the same now letting go as you grab your gun instead

“Remember that when it comes to my safety and your own, yours is more important ok?. No ifs, ands, or buts. Something happens run, got it? I’ll find you not matter what”

“Alright”

You both crouch and walk towards a small shed you find some ammo and pocket it

There’s a bear trap laid near the second entrance to the small hut

It’s rusty and you think you can see specs of blood

Thank god your up to date on tetanus shots

Another one spots the two of you and yells in Spanish alerting the others

Leon nods to you and you nod back running out the shed

They seemed focused on him giving you ample opportunity to sneak around a nearby house

You use your knife on one with their back turned to you

You don’t think about the blood and wipe it off

Not far you can hear explosions and the ground shaking slightly

Peaking out from the corner of the house there’s someone throwing dynamite

You aim

Two well place shots send them down as Leon dealt with the others

Soon there is quiet and a small breeze

Along with something metallic swaying in the wind nearby

“What’s that sound?”

“Not sure, seems like it’s closer to the cabin”

You nod and the two of you focus on where it was coming from

You look up

There looked to be some lantern-thing?

Your not really sure what it is to be honest

You aim and shoot

It crashes down

“Looks like another gemstone”

He says this so nonchalantly as he picked it up

“Another?”

“Yeah, found one or two already. Also found a necklace I can put them in”

He pulls out said necklace and placed the circular stone into the empty space

“That’ll be worth a pretty penny”

“Probably enough to buy us plane tickets out of here and then some”

“Merchant will probably buy that off you for a good price”

“You mean that guy who saved you?”

“Yeah, he seems like the type to buy this sort of stuff. Plus it’ll be useful for buying off of him”

Leon nods pocketing the necklace

He takes the lead once again and heads towards the small house with you following

Distantly as you head inside there’s a weird banging sound

Leon motions to you and you nod, not daring to utter a word

There’s a locked drawer that he tries to pry but moved on quickly when he can’t get it open

Doesn’t stop you though from using a stray Bobby pin in the bottom of your bag

It cracks open and you find a gold bar that you pocket

“Where’s you learn that?” Leon whispers in an impressed tone

“Dad taught me. That and how to shoot…you could say he’s seen some shit and wanted me prepared for anything”

“Tell me about it”

His slightly sarcastic remark makes you giggle lightly

Whatever was making that noise a few rooms over didn’t hear

You both head into the next room circling around a table that you briefly look at to see an overturned family photo

There in it is an old man, a young boy and a slightly older girl sitting in its frame

You don’t have much time to ponder or get much of a good look before placing it back down and pulling your gun back out

Leon pushes aside a bookcase letting the clanging noise get louder

There’s a lone villager hammering wooden planks over a trap door

He’s swiftly taken “care” of by a few shots to the head

His body tumbled to the ground and is kicked aside by Leon who tries to remove the planks

It’s quite easy and it reveals a dark passageway that makes you flinch a bit in fear

Leon noticed

“You can stay up here. I’ll check it out and see if it’s alright”

“I-I’m sorry, I know it’s stupid but-“

“No, it’s natural being afraid of something like the dark. Your a kid”

You won’t admit it but those words are more comforting than anything you’d heard

At some point you forgot you were still 15

A kid

You nod watching as he then jumped down instead of using the ladder

He is engulfed by pitch black as you begin checking the room

You find some more ammo and even a herb

Though your looting is quickly stopped by the sound of footsteps

Loud and heavy footsteps from someone familiar

You don’t have time to warm Leon but instead hide in the nearby wooden wardrobe

There is no Narnia but instead the scent of rotting wood and dust as you peak out the crack of the doors

And there he is

The bastard who grabbed you

Who decided your mothers death

The big shot himself

He descends and you pray

Your prayers are not answered as there’s a sound of a scuffle and he comes back up holding the body of Leon and someone else who was obscured from your view

Shit went from bad to worse

Looks like you gotta trail him and figure out where he’s taking Leon and the other guy.

Silently you count your bullets before quietly exiting the closest and following the tall man out the abandoned shack of a house

[carryingthebannershitposts]

Ride The Cyclone AU is winning so here's my old sketches :)

(I'm not giving up on Nightmare Before Newsies or anything, this is literally just for fun. In fact, go check the Nightmare Before Newsies blog because I posted some fun things)

The plot for the AU went something like this: during a fight for the strike, Jack David, Spot, Race, Crutchie and Les get crushed to death under a newspaper cart that was purposefully pushed on top of them by Oscar and Morris. They are then brought to some strange place, where an ominous robotic voice, who calls itself "The Amazing Karnak", begins telling them that they're gonna play a game- the group has to vote one person to come back to life, and the rest will perish.

Jack, being Jack, sings about Santa Fe for all of 30 seconds and proceeds to immediately concede. Racetrack sings a very depressing reprise of King Of New York and concedes soon after Jack. Neither David nor Spot are happy about this.

Spot's song would be a very interesting song set to the tune of Brooklyn's Here, but with the wit and pure ego that What The World Needs has. David's song would be a reprise of Truth Of The Moon, and afterwards he'd try to beg Jack to un-concede, which unsurprisingly doesn't work.

Les gets to sing a very cursed and surprisingly menacing crossover of the Watch What Happens Reprise and The Ballad Of Jane Doe, the first half of the song lamenting over 1. the loss of his fucking head and 2. how young he died, and the second half of the song swearing vengeance on the Delancey Brothers and The World as a whole for killing him and all the people he loves. (Seriously, imagine the second half of the Ballad Of Jane Doe but it's a child screaming "Watch What HAPPENS, LORD! THE WORLD WILL BURN TONIGHT, LORD! THEY'VE LEFT ME WITH NO FAMILY AND NO FRIENDS!") David is understandably horrified by this. Jack hypes Les up and encourages him to go back and murder people.

The vote comes down to David. David votes Les back after a very long speech, on the condition that he does NOT murder people.

Les may or may not keep that promise.

-

ON TO DA DRAWINGS

*Blinks at you with my tired ass I-stayed-up-all-night-to-draw-this eyes and hands you these*

A recent sketch of Les having his Jane Doe moment and shit because he was the one who got decapitated

(WARNING. BODY HORROR AND GLITCHING AND THINGS. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED)

.

.

.

David's long ass speech that he ripped off from Ocean O'Connell Rosenburg

Jack encouraging child murder and telling Les to scream insults at people

That's it :)

(PLEASE SOMEONE ASK ME FOR THE BALLAD OF JANE DOE / WATCH WHAT HAPPENS SONG MERGER THINGY CREATION'S LYRICS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE-)

[sherwees]

tomorrow (a sequel to sappoyo)

cw : stalking, literal murders, trespassing, obsession, un consented photography, reader has self harm marks!!!, yangyang has a past of juvenile detention and overall fucked up shit.

side note : PLEASEEE READ part one first because it'll just be confusing.

Yangyang's hair felt frozen, brittle as his chapped lips sighed through a brisk gust of wind, his eyes gazing from the Moon to the processing film in between his middle and index.

His teeth gnawed his bottom lip, ripping a little tear of dry skin. The pain felt numb, the only time he felt real was within the distance of you. You only knew him as a fucking juvie, not like the ones from that one movie where they dug holes in a deserted land; but a starved for days on end juvenile.

His fingers feather the back of his head, he could hear the razor buzz as his pretty brown hair fell to his feet. He basically killed it with all the bleach and hair dye he went through; the white counters covered in a mis-mash of colors, empty bottles scattered on the ground and the cone nozzles in the sink.

“Rainbow” He mouthed, the memory of his heavy eyes looking at the bizarre colored strands in between his quivering fingers in the stained mirror.

But, he wasn't him.

He was different, every dye depicted a new phase.

A new him.

Another starting point for you both.

He'll try again tomorrow.

There you were, yet again. Too immersed in the ingredients of a cooking spray, you were allergic to soy.

The time when you dropped a wine glass at your feet when you were on a fancy date with your “sugar daddy” Kun. He was too immersed talking about his business to realize your allergy, the salmon dish scattered on the ground along with the glass on the marble flooring during your struggle.

His shopping cart came to a cease, taking a moment to bask in your raspberry scent that took up the isle. Something urged and ached his soul to get his attention and he was willing to take the leap of faith.

But you took the leap before him.

Turning around, your eyes were wide with confusion and now filled with woe. A smile appeared and faded on his face once you looked back to the bottle and placed it inside your shopping cart; trying to egg some type of conversation out of this. Your lips shuddered, your eyes looking down at your shoes in shame as you walked closer.

“I'm sorry for what happened..”

He gave a hum, scrunching his nose and played with the hem of his sleeves.

You nodded your head, your hands slid inside your pocket; simultaneously gazing at him with fond eyes. But right before Yangyang fully processed it, you already turned and grabbed the handles of your shopping cart and walked away with a slower, solemn tempo.

His fist clenched, tear after tear fell until the floor was a mess of blurry lines.

Looking back up, you were gone.

His feet paced against the tiled floors, the endless shelves of cereal just became a blur of colors. His hands trembling, unsteady on the shopping carts bar as his teeth clenched and bared together in some sort of resentment.

Your sheepish voice ran through his broken head like a broken record.

Every note and every line became tiring.

But there was still time.

Try again tomorrow.

He observed the subway cart carefully, his feet tapping at the ground. There were no cameras and the area was remote besides him and the lady across from him, asleep. Her drool dribbled down the pole, her fuzz coat covering her chest.. but he mainly eyed the coffee cup in her hand.

Not just any lady. The scum from that very day. Her nasty hands groped and gripped at his body, he took about 5 hours in the shower just to get the icky feeling off of his skin. He even tried to manipulate his memories to believe that the lady's hands were yours at some point.

You were going to forget, soon.

A new path would be opened for a beginning.

His hand reached deep in his pocket for the small bag of fentanyl.

I mean one pill kills right?

He fiddles with the bag with a sigh, walking over to the lady.

An end is always a new beginning, right?

It'll work out soon.

Soon tomorrow.

“Everything's just fucking weird, why won't God just leave me alone? Am I next? That lady fucking DIED.” Your hand trembled writing the entry into your journal, totally not aware of the male in her closet.

'Did the plan work?' Yangyang wondered with a crooked smile rising at the tips of his lips. He wished he could caress your shoulder and tell you “It's ok” but it was merely impossible.

The pen scritch and scratched on the paper once more.

“It'll be me next, I know it will. I feel eyes on me every night, I feel something tingle at the back of my neck everyday.” A tear drops on the paper, dramatically. You looked over to the closet for a mere second, Yangyang's heart palpitated.

“No, No, No..” You cried in a murmur, his eyes went wide in confusion but he then realized.

The films..

His eyes scurried through the films he pulled from his pocket in a frantic rush. Looking through them with the peeking light in between the small opening between the ridges of the closet.

In one photo of you in a pretty white negligee studying for your finals, there was little burn marks that lined vertically and a little too perfectly on your forearm.

Was this all about him?

“I know you're here!” He noticed the blade you now held inside your trembling palm, your innocuous eyes were now rubbed red from the tears. The eye bags under your eyes pushed his concern even further, your face was conspicuously starved.

What all happened while he was gone?

In the tense moment, he pushed open the door in slight hesitation. His blazing red hair met your eyes before seeing his startled eyes come into your full vision, his combat boots making the height difference intimidating.

“So this is the end.. To be killed by you.” You seethed, his heart jumped at the way the word “you” was specifically said. Looking up at him, you notice his expression not even budging. His lips parted like he was about to say something but only a weak sigh came out with a long blink and a furrow to his brows.

“Are you going to kill me too?”

“No!” He grabbed at your shoulders with a broad yell, his cold fingers travelled your neck. His eyes were wide, frantic but you could still sense the hint of a lie in his retort.

“I'll never hurt you.” He coughed before tears finally breached his waterline, his eyebrows were creased in regret.

“But you did.” Your voice carried a cruel tone, your orbs seems to be filled with spite suddenly. Your warm fingers brushed against his icy forearm as you lowered his (now that you noticed) trembling hands, a chill ran through your body at the realization; your hard facade faltering.

“I haven't eaten or slept ever since that same lady fucking died! I knew that somebody was stalking all around my house like a ghost,–” You inhaled sharpily, your gut caves in at the nauseating sensation accumulating within at the memories.

“My clothes are going missing, I reported to the police about how many fucking times about YOU. They never believed me at all, you never even thought about me.–”

“Well I do–” He attempted to stand his reason but you only continued on.

“You're just fucking selfish and–” Yangyang's eyes flashed with animosity, the frustration bubbled up into his throat as his chest expanded into a heave.

“I'm selfish?”

“Yes, you fucking are–” You stepped back, hand resting on your dresser where you placed your emergency pocket knife.

“You don't ever care about my feelings, huh?”

“BECAUSE THEY DON'T FUCKING MATTER.” Your breath became hot and irregular with fury, your frustration bore from your eyes into his own. He knew that you wanted him dead, your body language showed it all.. your fingers inching for the knife and just everything.

“I got sent off for you! I wrapped my cold fingers around that pillow and suffocated that fucking scum because he was planning to kill you if you said no to his fucking prom invitation! You don't even remember me, huh?!” His hands clasped your jaw, he inched closer. His orbs searched yours as if he trying to rerun your memory like a psychic.

Oh...

“Liu Yangyang?” You mumbled at the familiarity that rushed through your mind. Yangyang tried to ignore the warmth in his gut at your remembrance but it quickly died down once he noticed that you stepped away in alert.

The one that got sentenced to 3 years during your junior year for being involved with the smothering of Xiao Dejun.. Your ex? All those notes he sent to you, ending with “Your savior” or “My 爱” creeped you out bad. You responded with a vile letter filled with threats and it ended there.

An uneasy silence settled in, you unconsciously counted the tempo of your heart beat as your hand slid for the knife; slowly and steadily.

“Yangyang, tell me this now..” The knifes edge slid against the wood now fully grasped in your trembling hand, the steel gleamed in your lamp's light. You look down for a second and notice his fist tighten, palms turning white.

Yangyang's love and glory for you now faded into pure resentment.

Maybe he did want to kill you.

Your evil was nothing different of the officer's that handcuffed him that very day ignoring his pleads, his mother that never believed in him like his father did, the lady on the subway and Xiaojun himself.

You were both meant each other.

Meant to be dead and cold.

Before he even knows it, he grabs the knife right from your very hands.

He remembers everything.

Your gurgled scream from the first plunge.

Your final pleads.

Your hands flying everywhere on his coat, neck, shoulders as you cried and cried,

The final puncture to your rib with the blade.

“I don't wanna–”

Another plunge, crimson stained the grey of your shirt.

“just let go!”

Your chest coming to a stop for the final time.

Your eyes stopping mid blink, never blinking again.

No more writing in your journal, no more talking with your friends on the phone, no more listening to music, no more parties, no more dates.

There was nothing for him but so much for you.

Now, there's no time for you both.

He doesn't even register the banging at the bedroom door, your still head in his lap. His nimble fingers trail your jaw to your still warm silver heart pendant, your frozen skin against his warm own, he sighed. You didn't deserve this.

Looking deep into your still eyes, moving a strand that fell down from the force of the door swinging open. There was some sort of command yelled in his ear but he only continued looking at your dead beauty.

There was then a kick to his torso, he looked up at the pistol aimed at his forehead.

He leaned towards his killer.

The cold tip meeting his forehead.

There will be no future for you two.

What was the point of all this then?

There won't be a tomorrow, or a day after.

Try again, maybe another time. .

[blahhhhhhhohmigosh]

Day 23. A sticky-ation.

Summary: Leo gets his fingers stuck to a pole, Donnie helps him with a creative idea.

A/n: I'm dead tired. Well this is almost the last fic of the series so for the next one the requests are defenetly open. T-CEST AND PRO SHIPPING NOT ALLOWED, Enjoy!

Lee: Leo.

Ler: Donnie.

Warrning: Tickle Fluff. Enjoy!

Guess who's heater got destroyed? Probably agian... well. Leo was trying to get his hands un-attached from the ice cold pole he was stuck to in his train cart room while Donnie asked.

💜:So...you're stuck?

💙:Yh.

💜:Annnnd you need MY help THAT much???

💙:YEA!! D, you're the only one smart enough to use something and not smash the pole or break my precious hands!

💜: sigh, I guess I am the only genius enough brother, well no worries my brother! I'll help you! *mumble* somehow...

Donnie then started thinking, well the best solution was dither to heat up the pole, fix the heater, or heat up Nardo.

Heating up the pole whould be quite hard, meanwhile he didn't whant to fix the Heather, do the best idea whould to heat up Leo, how to do it though? Hm...

Donnie had an idea. To help up his twin and to mess with him as he put his Hands under Leo's armpits.

💙:UH D- what are you doing-

💜:Trying to warm you up, dummy.

Donnie said as he started to tickle the armpits of the Red slider while Leo tried not to laugh but eventually bursting into giggles.

💙:WhA- NoHOHOHo DHHh SthOhOhoP-

💜:Nope Nardo I'm helping you!

💙:NoHoHO YouHuRe ThihIhIckLing MehGehHhe-

Then he felt his hands let go of the pole realizing the tickles made him warm up. He rubbed his hands agianst his sides to wipe them off and cleared his throat before mumbling.

💙:Thanks but why tickles...

💜:No Problem Nardo!

Donnie said confidently with a grin.

[game-of-kinks]

Self tie - Toutes les cartes sont dispo sur @tire-une-carte Bon jeu !

[midnightanxietytm]

L'altra dimensione

A/N: Måneskin is so Zutara coded (or is it the other way around?) And it made my brain rot intense in ways you can't imagine. Also, i do not know any italian, i'm here for the cool music and for Damiano and Victoria.

Contents/Tags: The Blue Spirit & The Painted Lady being vigilantes in Ba Sing Se. Role Swap AU (aka the water tribes caused the war, more of this AU here and also there.) Introspection. Character analysis, Pre-relationship Zutara. The tension in this one is off the charts.

Word count: 881

"It’s a sight to behold; her dark figure engulfed in moonlight, the white mask of the Painted Lady, delicate as ever, hiding her features and contrasting with her ruthless yet precise moves when fighting."

The second Zuko placed the mask on his face, he felt more at ease, his constantly depleting confidence being boosted all the way up. Zuko might not be able to help those people, but the Blue Spirit was.

His path to the lower ring is relatively easy; he jumps through roofs and balconies, runs through the streets and alleys, and he is free and powerful; no wars, no big plans beyond his years, just helping whoever he can.

E adesso giuro faccio le valigie

Scappo via in un'altra dimensione

Son stanco delle vostre facce grigie

Voglio un mondo rosa, pieno di colore

(And now I swear I'll pack my bags

And escape to another dimension

I'm tired of your grey faces

I want a pink world full of colour)

Tonight, he has company.

He doesn’t see her that often, from what he’s gathered they tend to ‘work’ on different parts of the lower ring. It seems that they both decided to patrol the central market today though.

It’s a sight to behold; her dark figure engulfed in moonlight, the white mask of the Painted Lady, delicate as ever, hiding her features and contrasting with her ruthless yet precise moves when fighting.

The Blue Spirit approached the Painted Lady silently, and she turned to face him; her marbled mask tilting in a silent question. In response, he kneeled on the roof beside her, and dutifully watched the dwindling movement of the market below.

Their silence lasted, but eventually, she bumped her shoulder against his and gestured her head to a corner. He followed and saw what she meant; one of the vendors, a younger woman, was being very intently watched by a man across the street from her. It seemed the woman knew she was being watched, while she closed up her shop she would often glance around, nervous.

His Lady stood up first, the full moon reflection on her mask eerily. He followed suit, and together they ran through the roofs, like true spirits.

Voi comprate amore con le carte Visa

Con le facce intrise sì, ma di sudore

E adesso giuro faccio le valigie

Scappo via dalla dolce Marlena

(You buy love with credit cards

With faces that are drenched, yes, but with sweat

And now I swear I'll pack my bags

And escape from sweet Marlena)

By the time they were ready to separate there were only two or three hours left before sunrise. The Painted Lady stood on the rooftop, right in front of him, and on times like this, Zuko could almost believe she was truly a spirit, and not a mask, but he could see her shoulders moving with each breath she took, he could feel her eyes wondering his figure, just as curious about him as he was about her.

Marlena, Marlena, sì portami a ballare stasera

(Marlena, yes, take me dancing tonight, Marlena)

They were close, if Zuko really focused, he could hear her breathing too. They had done a lot that night; whenever the central market opened, some opportunists would follow suit, so they were busy, their dangerous dance disarming and restraining each one of the dangers that dared impose their domain.

Truly like spirits, yet so far from them, so painfully human; he taught. She slowly raised a hand to his forearm, tilting her head. He kept looking at her ‘face’, even though he felt the sting and the wetness against the cut in his arm.

Amico mio devi essere felice

Perché il nuovo mondo sta per arrivare

E non c'è taglio, non c'è cicatrice

Che questa passione non possa curare

Dio io dalla polvere come fenice

Son risorto ed ho imparato anche a volare

Soltanto perché ho fatto le valigie ed ho baciato la dolce

(My friend, you must be happy since the new world is about to come

And there's no cut, no scar that this passion cannot cure

I, I from the ashes have arisen like a Phoenix, and I even learned to fly

Only because I packed my bags and kissed sweet Marlena)

In seconds, the pain was gone, her hand lingered, cold against his skin, then slid down his arm. He met her hand with his, she squeezed. Underneath the guise of spirits, they hid their identity and yet bared all their feelings, they sang a wordless lyric, and she sang of redemption while he sang of justice.

He could accept her, right there under the full moon, and everything would change.

He squeezed her hand back, then felt it slip from his grasp.

Marlena, Marlena, sì vienimi a parlare, ti prego

Marlena, Marlena, io ti starò a ascoltare, ti prego

Marlena, Marlena, insegnami a lottare, ti prego

Marlena, Marlena, sì portami a bailar

(Marlena, yes, come talk to me,Please, Marlena

Marlena, I'll stay listening, Please, Marlena

Marlena, teach me to fight, Please, Marlena

Marlena, yes, take me dancing. )

He slowly turned from her, and he disappeared between the shadows.

Maybe, the Blue Spirit thought, he would see his lady again, under the setting sun this time.

[kikiiswashere]

Children of Zaun - Chapter 16

Pairing: Silco/Fem!OC

Rating: Explicit

Story Warnings: Canon typical violence, drug use/dealing, dark themes, eventual smut

Chapter Summary: Bone gets real with Heimerdinger. Grayson gets real with herself. Enyd becomes the real MVP. Katya feels real confused.

Chapter CW: In Grayson's part of the chapter, there is a mentioned and briefly detailed sexual assault.

Previous Chapter

Word Count: 5K

Ivy pushed the drink cart into Heimerdinger’s office, the gold pitcher and crystal glasses rattling as it rolled toward the two wingback chairs by the ornate marble fireplace. Councilor Bone sat in one seat, his head in one hand while the other pressed a handkerchief to his mouth. He didn’t look at her as she approached, nor did he acknowledge the noisy cart. Heimerdinger stood in front of him, small hands clasped tightly behind his back. He nodded to Ivy as she came up, his blue eyes shimmering with concern.

“Thank you, Miss Banforth,” he murmured.

The corners of the aide’s lips ticked up politely and she poured two glasses of water, placing one on the end table next to Bone, the second, smaller glass on the table by Heimerdinger’s chair. The Yordle nodded again, excusing her. Quietly, steps muffled by the plush rug, she let the room. For a long while, the only sound in the spacious office was Bone’s wheezing breath.

“Drink, Jarrot,” Heimerdinger kindly instructed.

Bone grimaced behind his handkerchief, his teeth clenching in frustration. He didn’t want to drink the Piltovian’s pity water; he wanted to not be sick. To not be dying because of the labor he had done for them. He wanted Rynweaver and the other too-wealthy Academy benefactors to not grip their purse strings so tightly. He did not want the water.

Reaching out a shaky hand, Bone gripped the glass and brought it to his lips. The first sip he wrestled down, the following gulps came more easily.

Satisfied, Heimerdinger turned and stepped up the small stool to his chair, and sat down. The concern didn’t leave his eyes as Bone drained his glass. He left his own beverage untouched.

A long moment passed, the silence in the office punctuated by the Undercity Councilor’s phlegmy throat clearings. Still, he didn’t look the other in the eye.

“I am dying, Professor,” Bone grumbled after a couple minutes. He kept his eyes closed and his heavy head on his fingertips. His shoulder sagged, confessing the fact out loud. His throat clenched in a way that had nothing to do with his illness.

Heimerdinger’s long ears folded back and dipped. The concern that had molded his brow since adjourning the meeting transformed into weighty sorrow. His own small body mimicked his counterpart’s, his head dropping in grim respect for the mortality he’d never know.

“I am . . . sorry, Jarrot,” Heimerdinger whispered.

“I am dying,” Bone repeated. “I am running out of time to do good for the Undercity.”

The Yordle lifted his head. “You have, my friend.”

Bone sneered at the platitude.

“What have I accomplished, Professor?” he asked, his voice gravelly with illness and venom. “What real change have I managed to cement?”

“The new sanctions and regulations at the mines, for one,” Heimerdinger offered.

Bone’s hand dropped from his face and he fixed the professor with an icy stare.

“And can you guarantee me – guarantee the Undercity – that those will not be abrogated once I am gone?”

Heimerdinger’s ears dropped further. He was immortal; not a fortune-teller.

“The changes I have managed to enact are flimsy at best,” grumbled Bone. He brought his handkerchief back up to his mouth and coughed again. “I have barely been able to scratch my political agenda, and not only is my time running out, but Rynweaver and the other noble families are devising means to keep furthering the divide of opportunity between Piltover and her Undercity. Whose call do you think the Council will heed, Professor?”

The two stared at each other for a long while. Bone tired of his voice, the voices he spoke form being unheard; Heimerdinger uncertain of how to handle this diplomatically.

“Jarrot,” he began carefully, “it is the Council’s job to act in the best interest of the whole populace. Things advance for Piltover, they advance for the Undercity. A rising tide lifts all boats – “

“With all do respect, Professor,” Bone grit, “that is horseshit. If Rynweaver and the other benefactors get what they want, what will happen to Viktor, your prize pupil? His sister won’t be able to pay more than she already is for his schooling. What then? Toss him back into the Undercity’s maw to die? Let his spot be taken up by another Piltovian child? There is no bridging this inequitable rift between Topside and the Underground without massive change. And I have not been able to scratch away at anything because the rest of Council is only interested in maintaining the status quo.”

As he spoke, his eyes had become glossy, his voice desperate and aggrieved around the edges.

“This is not what I hoped my tenure on Council would be,” he whispered.

Heimerdinger watched and listened to his peer. His heart truly ached for the man in front of him. A sigh whistled through his mustache as he lowered his eyes.

“Change,” he said, “takes time.”

“Time is not something I have, Professor. There are plenty of other Undercity citizens who have a similar affliction – or something else. They don’t have time either. Viktor doesn’t have time.”

Heimerdinger winced at the mention of his student. It was likely Rynweaver and the benefactors would get their way. His stomach swooped and the skin under his fur became cold at the thought of having to send Viktor back across the river for good.

“This . . . variance between our cities is not what I had in mind when founding Piltover,” Heimerdinger confessed.

“I believe you.”

Heimerdinger looked up, ears lifting. Bone returned the look with red, watery eyes and a stern brow. He coughed into his handkerchief once more before continuing.

“I believe you that it was not your intention when founding Piltover to leave half of the population quite literally in the dust. However, it is what has happened. And do not distance yourself from the issue by using nothing words like ‘variance.’ It is prejudice, inequity, inequality, and violent classism. Piltover has built its progress on the corpses of Trenchers. And you have us dig deeper graves, day in and day out. Digging those graves is what is sending me to mine.

“The further the city gets from its founding, the broader the divide. This is a deep wound, Professor. Deeper than the Sumps. And in order to begin healing from it, changes must be made. And not just some rules and regulations at one mining enterprise. Piltover and the Undercity cannot move forward as things are now. Progress cannot bloom from prejudice.”

The pale scotch in Grayson’s tumbler caught and refracted the dim light of her desk lamp. The crystal it had been etched from glowed with it. She sighed, took another sip, and leaned her head on the tips of her fingers. In the back of her mind, she heard her mother’s voice reprimand her for her poor posture.

“Ladies sit up straight, Theodora,” she would say. “Ankles crossed!”

When Grayson was old enough to dress herself, she had kept her corset slack so she could sit more comfortably. Unfortunately, her mother caught on and demanded to inspect her underthings before they had company or before she left the house.

It irked young Grayson for several reasons. Not the least of which being that she and her family were a lesser house. No one was looking at them expectantly. Atticus was an Enforcer, his wife a junior curator at a small art gallery. They weren’t nobles nor did they entertain any, so her mother’s insistence on ladylike etiquette was grating.

Besides, even as a young girl, Grayson knew she wanted to be an Enforcer. Like her father. She wouldn’t need to know which fork was for salads nor the correct order of dishes for an eight-course dinner.

The one thing she was able to use from her mother’s infuriating, demeaning lessons was how to listen, how to approach people, and how to sus out subtext within a conversation or interaction. They were skills that had allowed Grayson to climb the Enforcer ranks quickly.

Much to her chagrin, though, slouching did end up hurting her back as much as sitting stick-straight did. She grunted and shifted in her seat, flipping over a page of the report she was currently reading. One of the ones from the dossier Bone had given her that afternoon.

The case had been closed for a couple of years. It was similar in subject matter to the previous few cases she had looked at in the folder. It had been a brief investigation: An Enforcer was accused of sexually assaulting, and later beating, an Undercity sex worker. The woman was not an employee of any of the brothels – no establishment claimed her once the report was made.

The Enforcer in question was a young man new to the force, and the young woman accused him of raping and sodomizing her. Once she made the report, she returned to the station beaten and bloody saying the same man had jumped her. The photographs that accompanied the report were too few, but impactful.

Despite this, the subsequent investigation was brief and lacked depth. The Enforcer was not found at fault, and when the victim kept making a fuss, the courts proclaimed her mentally incompetent and sent her to Osweld Asylum.

Grayson sighed and closed the folder, pushing it away. She sipped again at her scotch and eyed the remaining stack of reports to her left.

“That being born in the Undercity increases citizens risk of being treated unjustly by a system that is meant to protect them. That is why Viktor looked at you fearfully. Because, like it or not, you were not taught to protect him.”

Councilor Bone’s voice echoed in her head. Her gut coiled. The liquor didn’t burn enough.

She knew that crime rates in the Undercity were higher than those in Piltover. It was common knowledge, even amongst the public. Piltover mothers – regardless of station – frequently prohibited their children from straying any farther than the boundary markets in the Promenade. There was a well-known dare-game among Piltover teens to go deep into the Undercity, and whoever got the furthest unscathed won.

The Undercity was dangerous. Everyone in Piltover knew it.

And yet, the unease that had rippled under Grayson’s skin when she met with Bone earlier in the day would not settle. It scratched at her stomach and questioned what she had thought had been her intuition.

But Viktor’s eyes . . . the handful of reports she had read . . . Bone’s notes comparing relatively similar cases between the Undercity and Piltover . . .

Her teeth ached and her heart squeezed.

She had wanted to become an Enforcer because she watched how her father loved what he did. He would speak to her about how fulfilling it was to be there for people in some of the darkest moments of their lives, and help them through it. How good it felt to be of service to his city and his neighbors.

The idea had warmed and fizzed Grayson’s insides. It made her full of pride and hope. She wanted to do that, not sip tea and attend garden parties. She didn’t want to uselessly and capriciously climb the social ladder. She wanted to be purposeful in a way she could feel and see.

And being presented with evidence that perhaps her endeavors were not that . . . made her numb.

She couldn’t feel it.

And she couldn’t unsee the facts Bone had laid at her feet.

Grayson knew she was on the track to eventually take over for Sheriff LeDaird when he retired. Her father would’ve been proud of her. What if she could help accomplish more than he or she ever dreamed? Ever knew to dream? What if she forded the river and bridged the divide?

About once a month, Enyd visited the Clapper Textile Mill to purchase scrap fabric. For only a few washers and cogs she would be able to walk away with a small laundry bag of thread and a variety of swatches. It was cheaper than buying bolts of fabric. And the managers of the mill were happy to slip some extra money into their pockets while keeping the floors tidy.

No matter how many times Enyd entered the building, she was always taken aback by how loud it was. Even in the small and orderly front office area, the pounding and shrieking of the mighty looms just beyond the back brick wall burst through the mortar, rattling the filing cabinets and desks. She wondered how anyone got anything done as their pens skittered across parchment and dust motes rained down on their hair, having been shaken loose by the creaky rafters above.

Despite the cacophony, the mill’s secretary looked up as Enyd walked in and she waved her over, getting up from her vibrating desk. Birdy was a square-shaped woman with a flat face and one arm. The other had been sheared off in a looming accident years ago, after which she was transferred into the office. She was curt and belligerently independent.

Enyd wove around the manager’s desk, mumbling platitudes to him and the client he was speaking with. Neither gentleman looked up, their eyes glued upon the contracts and agreements quivering between them. She spared one last glance at the client, who looked too wealthy to be visiting Clapper, before slipping through the door Birdy held open for her.

“That girl has stockpiled quite an array fer ya this time,” Birdy quipped in her throaty voice as they ascended a set of stairs.

“Who was that man speaking with Amos?” Enyd asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

The secretary’s wide mouth pursed and she rolled her eyes.

“Some Topside muckity-muck.”

“Topside? Doing business here?”

 Birdy’s nostrils flared and her lip pulled into a thread-thin line.

“He needs . . . discretion, apparently.”

She offered nothing else. They arrived on a metal landing and the secretary opened the door crowning it. The clanging and whirring of the looms increased to bone-quaking intensity as the two women entered the factory floor’s catwalk. Below them, mighty metal mouths gnashed against the fabric tongues that slipped and pulled through their teeth, the width of the bolt increasing with each chomp; colors became deeper with each bullet-fast pass of the metal shuttle as more thread was added. Birdy was completely nonplussed by the volume of noise, but Enyd clapped her hands over her ears and quickly shuffled behind the other woman.

They traveled down the metal gangway, their footsteps a pitiful edition to the rest of the din. Birdy’s gaze flitted amongst the throngs of mill girls beneath their feet, all of them dutifully tending to their tasks (lest they end their shift short a limb, like the secretary). Her eyes widened as they fell upon her intended target: a tall teenager whose dark, almost black, skin stuck out from her pale peers like a sunflower seed in a bushel of ginko nuts. A broom was in her strong hands and she methodically swished it over the floor, gathering a pile of loose thread and fabric scraps.

Birdy beat her fist against the metal duct over her head in a methodical pattern. All at once, hundreds of faces looked up to the catwalk. The secretary locked eyes with the sweeping teen and pointed firmly at her. Enyd saw the girl’s face track to her own, and she nodded, scurrying down a tight row of machines to the back of the factory.

The two older women followed from above, finally escaping the main floor by way of another stairwell. Enyd sighed with relief and let her hands drop back to her sides. Birdy’s energy remained the same as she trundled down the stairs before them.

Weaving through a couple short hallways on the first floor, they arrived in the cutting room, and found the sweeper shoving a few more swatches into a small laundry bag.

“Hi Ms. Enyd!” she said joyfully, her white teeth a streak of starlight against her dark skin.

“Hello, Nasha. Those look like some interesting patterns you’ve collected for me.”

Enyd stepped to the counter and took up a short length of blue fabric with a paisley embossment.

“Make sure it’s t’yah liking,” Birdy called. “Then come find me in th’office. I gotta get back to work.”

Enyd nodded and bid her chaperone good-bye.

With the secretary gone, Nasha’s shoulders slumped and a breathy chuckle bubbled in her throat.

“Birds makes me so nervous,” she admitted. “The way she looks at me when she tries to get my attention gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“She’s fine,” Enyd tutted playfully, sifting through the materials. “She’s just a grumpy old-timer. Like me.”

Nasha laughed and shook her head, the makeshift bonnet she wore over her bushy hair swishing precariously.

“Nah. You’re not grumpy. And you’re not an old-timer.”

“I have a son older than you, dear,” Enyd countered with a cheeky grin.

Nasha shrugged and crossed her thick forearms over her chest. “It’s more of a state of mind, I guess.”

The older woman smiled at the girl’s generous definition and continued to inspect the fabric and threads. The silence between them was short-lived, because soon Nasha whispered excitedly, “Did you see the fop with Mr. Amos? The Piltie looking one? Was he still in the office when you got here?”

 “He was,” Enyd said carefully. “Birdy was not very forthcoming with the details, though.”

Nasha guffawed and shook her head again.

“He’s visited the mill a couple times in the past month. Caught all of our attention, you know? Mr. Amos rarely gets Piltie clients!”

“What does a Piltie want with an Undercity textile mill?” asked Enyd.

A Cheshire grin sliced across Nasha’s plump face and she leaned in conspiratorially.

“So, his wife’s family’s business is in window treatments. They do all the mansions in Bluewind Court. He’s got some management position at the Clockwork Vault. Apparently, he has racked up a lot of gambling debt with some Bilgewater crew. He’s ordering a bunch of curtain panels from Mr. Amos that he’s gonna be shipping over there.”

“Curtain panels? Why?”

Nasha leaned in further and whispered, “He’s been skimming the tops of some bigger accounts he oversees at Clockwork; gathering up enough coin to pay his debts. He’s gonna hide the money in the panels, and forge some shipping manifest to make it look like his wife’s family’s business is shipping the curtains.”

“How do you know all this?” Enyd asked, eyes wide.

“Because Gidgit, one of the other mill girls, sucks Mr. Amos’ dick at the end of the day, and he tells her things when he’s all spent and stupid. Then she tells me when I make her spent and stupid – “

“Yes, I understand,” Enyd brusquely hissed, wanting to bypass any discussion of Amos’ or Nasha’s sexual escapades. Besides, her mind was alight with possibility. Her stomach coiled and her heart tittered.

“Nasha,” she said quietly, “have you or any of the other girls heard of the Children of Zaun?”

The journey into Piltover at the end of the week was much more pleasant than it had been at the start. The sun lazily danced in-between fluffy clouds and a cool breeze swirled off the Pilt as Katya crossed the Bridge to pick her brother up. While her body was tired from a stressful week at the mines, her heart was still light and fluttery from the meal and company she had shared the night prior.

And from seeing one half of that company standing in the clinic’s doorway earlier that afternoon.

Clean up was in full effect at the accident site, regular operations were starting back up, and the triage tents were taken down; injured miners either could get back to work or rest at home. Upon arriving, Katya had been directed back into the mine’s medical clinic by a pushy Topside physician, and there she relieved Will of rehoming and reorganizing the space.

The boxes she and he had packaged up the day prior were stacked in neat piles around the front office and exam room. Periodically, additional packages were brought down by random laborers. Almost all came and went without saying much, barely giving Katya a chance to instruct them on where it would be most helpful to set them down.

Around one in the afternoon, when she was elbow-deep in gauze and bandages, Silco appeared in the clinic’s doorway, his arms wrapped around yet another box. Katya felt her cheeks pinch at the sight of him.

“This one rattles,” he said by way of greeting. The corners of his lips lifted, and he asked, “Where would you like it?”

“It is probably some of the antibiotics,” she said. “I’ve been looking for it. If you could put it in the exam room, that would be helpful. Thank you.”

Silco nodded and wove around the maze of boxes, as Katya lifted to her feet and followed him.

“By the table is fine,” she sighed as he stepped into the small room.

He carefully set the box down next to the exam table, and she watched the way his hands and forearms flexed as he transferred the weight of the delivery to the floor. As he stood back up, the need to say something else pummeled her.

“Thank you again for having me for dinner last night,” she decided to say. “I had a lovely time.”

“I’ll pass on your gratitude to my mum,” he said with a lopsided grin. Then, something softer and more self-conscious flickered across his face, and he added, “We enjoyed having you. I hope you can join us again. Like my mum said.”

Katya smiled and nodded.

“I certainly will never try to wiggle out of one of Enyd’s invitations again. Her cooking is delicious.” She paused and said, “And the company was enjoyable, too.”

The tips of Silco’s ears went pink and the grin he wore twitched nervously. He cleared his throat and nodded, trying not to look too pleased. Together, they began walking back toward the clinic door.

“You’re picking your brother up today?” he asked.

“Yes. For the weekend.”

He nodded, and Katya thought she saw a glimmer of disappointment behind his eyes. It disappeared as quickly as it came, and he fixed her with a warm look.

“Have a nice weekend, Kat.”

She bit the inside of her lower lip and smiled to herself at the memory as the Bridge attendant let her through. It was new, but it felt warm and intoxicating to belong. To be sought after. To be cared for.

Her smile fully split as she approached the fountain in Pilt Square, and she saw her brother and Ivy waiting for her. He looked up from the book he was reading and smiled back, waving in greeting. He stowed his book away, scooped up his crutch, and limped toward her. Katya wrapped her arms around him tightly.

“Oh, I missed you!” she sighed into his hair.

“I missed you, too.”

She drew back and cupped his face. “Did you have a good week?”

Viktor nodded and said, “I had lunch with Councilor Bone a couple times!”

Katya stared at her brother, flabbergasted. Before she could inquire further, Ivy had walked up, rucksack in hand.

“Hello, Katya.”

She handed off the large bag to the medic, and once it was situated securely across the other’s shoulders, she held out a cream-colored envelope. Katya’s smiled dropped as she reached out for the letter, recognizing Heimerdinger’s gilded sigil embossed on its front.

“Professor Heimerdinger scheduled Viktor’s midterm conference for next Thursday,” Ivy explained. “He’s written a letter excusing your absence from work, if that helps in your ability to attend – “

“That isn’t necessary,” Katya curtly said. She was aware that it didn’t make sense to be peeved with Ivy for the Yordle’s overreach, but she found she couldn’t help herself. “I will be there.”

“Excellent,” Ivy said politely. “I shall let Professor Heimerdinger know to expect you. Have a lovely weekend, Viktor!”

“You, too, Miss Ivy.”

Katya tucked Heimerdinger’s fancy envelope into her coat and guided Viktor back toward the Bridge.

“We have to pick up your brace at Pok’s before heading home,” she told her brother as they went.

“Can we go to Jericho’s then? Like last week?”

“Not today, Viktor,” she said. His lower lip pouted forward but he didn’t argue further.

“If the weather is good tomorrow, how about we try going back to the Shores to look at the boats?”

His eyes brightened. He smiled and nodded at his sister. She smiled back.

“How did you come to have lunch with Councilor Bone?”

“I was having lunch on one of the campus benches and he came up and asked if he could sit with me.”

He shot her an excited glance and his round cheeks glowed happily.

“Is that so?” Katya hummed playfully. “What did you and the Councilor talk about?”

“He asked questions about my classes, and what I like to build. I showed him my cane,” Viktor answered, flourishing the crutch out in front of him, taking a big swinging step.

“Careful, Viktor,” Katya chuckled.

“He told me a little bit about his life in the Undercity. Before he was a Councilor, I mean. He used to work at the mines.”

“Yes, I know. Papa nor I ever got to meet him though. It’s very exciting that you’ve made a friend in such a high place!”

Her brother laughed and they continued together toward the conveyor car station.

Augmentation Alley was bustling like normal. Glowing deep oranges and yellows in the shadows of the Undercity. The smell of fire and hot metal made Katya feel like they were walking through an oven. Her shirt stuck to her damp skin under her coat, and her bangs began to glue themselves to her forehead.

She and Viktor weaved past stores and stalls, making it to Pok’s Parlor at the end of the alley. They were not the only customers, and her heart stalled to see the hulking figure in front of Mek’s smithing anvil. It was Vander. Both young men turned to see brother and sister enter the shop, and Katya gripped her brother’s shoulder, holding him in place. She was not ready for Viktor to know this part of her life yet. She hoped he didn’t remember the barkeep from bringing Benzo to their apartment; she prayed it had been too dark for him to recognize the strikingly tall and muscled man before him.

Fortunately, Viktor looked up at her curiously, with confused, wondering eyes. Vander saw the trepidation in her face and kindly turned back to Mek without formally addressing her. Katya swallowed, wetting her dry throat with an audible click, and awkwardly ushered her brother further inside.

“Da!” Mek called out. “Customers!”

Grumbling and limping, Pok staggered out of the back room. Upon seeing Katya and Viktor he grunted and nodded, waving them over with a gnarled, meaty hand. The siblings gave Mek and Vander as wide a berth as they could, walking over to the augmenteer’s workbench.

He rifled through the pieces of metal and leather hanging over his drafting table, eying the tags of paper attached to each. Finally, he plucked a piece from the far left end of the rack and laid it across the table between them.

Pok eyed the piece, then Viktor.

“Looks ‘bout right. C’mere, boy. Let’s try it on.”

He stripped down to his current brace, Katya helped unlace him out of it. She felt how worn and fragile it was as she took it and his shirt into her arms. With cautious excitement, Viktor stepped closer to the old man. Pok slipped the shoulder strap over the boy’s head and went about showing him wear to buckle and how to tighten.

Katya watched her brother’s face gradually grow into something relieved and excited; the expression of joy being pulled from him as if it were warm taffy. She knew how much this opportunity of independence meant to him. She clutched his old brace tighter.

Sometimes, when she was young – younger than Viktor – her papa would take her to examine tidepools near the mouth of the Pilt. She would get sad upon finding shell after shell of what she thought were dead crabs.

“No, no, Button,” her papa would say, plucking the delicate carapace from her small hands. “This is called an exoskeleton. Crustaceans and insects have them. When it is time for the crab to grow, it sheds its current exoskeleton so the larger one underneath can take its place. There’s a short period of time where the crab’s new body is vulnerable. But once it hardens, it is bigger and stronger than before.”

Katya’s throat squeezed watching Viktor undo and redo the buckles and straps of his new brace over and over again. Until he was comfortable with his new shell. He beamed up at her and she smiled back.

Satisfied, Viktor put his shirt back on, and Katya drew her coin purse out from her coat.

“I’ll give ya a small discount if you leave his old brace,” Pok said, nodding to the soft leather straps hung over her arm. “Materials are becoming difficult to come by.”

Katya paused, considering. She looked down at the old brace.

“I would prefer to keep it, actually.”

She paid Pok their agreed price, and she guided Viktor back around Mek and Vander, heading for the alley. She noticed how her brother’s walk was more easeful than when they first arrived. Noticed how he more readily stepped in front of her. Her heart swelled for him, and ached at the same time.

Before she followed Viktor back out into the Undercity, she spared one last glance at Vander. Mek had just lifted something onto the anvil between them, and the barkeep was carefully inspecting whatever it was. When he lifted it up into the bright glow of the furnace, Katya could see that it was a large, crudely constructed gauntlet.

Notes: Thank you for reading! Did you like the fancy new scene change markers?? I'm not sure if I'm sold on them yet . . .

But most importantly! How are we feeling?? Heimerdinger and Grayson have much to think about, Enyd is really vying for that "Revolutionary of the Month" award, and Kat and Silco are sniffing around each other a little more . . .

Let me know what you think and reblog, please! Smooches!

Coming Up Next: Viktor finally sees his boats. Katya sees a creepy old dude with a basket of purple flowers. Nasha visits The Last Drop, per Enyd's request, and meets with Vander, Silco, Benzo, and Sevika. The latter of whom she takes an interest in *wiggles eyebrows*

Next Chapter

Tag list: @dreamyonahill @pinkrose1422 @altered-delta @beardedladyqueen @truthandadare

[re-tire-une-carte]

Tire une carte

English versions are @play-my-game

Les règles du jeu sont simples

1/ Trouvez un(e) partenaire de plus de 18 ans prêt.e et disposé.e à jouer avec vous, et jouez les cartes RESPECTANT LES LIMITES DE CE.TTE PARTENAIRE.

C'est tout. Amusez-vous bien!

…

OK, à part ça, je peux ajouter:

a/ Différents types de cartes signifient différentes utilisations. « A domicile » vs. « En balade » ou « Instant » vs. « Jours » par exemple ne seront pas joués en même temps. Adaptez vous en conséquence.

b/ Le premier défi de la carte représente celle-ci et se suffit à lui-même. La partie bonus, cependant, pourrait être échangée contre une récompense quelconque, que vous auriez décidé en amont (de notre côté, elle gagne des points à dépenser sur une wishlist).

c/ Si une carte ne correspond pas exactement à ce que vous souhaiteriez, modifiez-la simplement pour qu'elle corresponde à ce qui vous plairait le plus.

d/ Si vous souhaitez jouer une carte mais que vous n’avez pas suffisamment d’expérience pour le faire en toute sécurité, commencez par vous entraîner avec des personnes compétentes dans un environnement sûr.

Si vous avez des questions ou des cartes que vous aimeriez voir, n'hésitez pas à me contacter et je verrai ce que je peux faire.

Bon jeu.

[muzukashiidesune]

富士山 (Mont Fuji)

Juliette se recouche sous son duvet épais, dans la lumière du matin. Nos futon sont installés à même le sol, sur le tatami beige, et quand elle remonte le duvet sous son nez, je ne discerne plus rien que ses cheveux bruns étalés sur l’oreiller. Un bout de front pâle, peut-être. Je ferme les yeux.

Mes draps me semblaient encore chauds de sommeil, lorsque je m’y suis renveloppée. Une odeur de bois règne dans la chambre. Mes cils entrouverts. Des particules flottent, en suspension dans la lumière. Lorsque Juliette cesse de remuer, elles se figent doucement à leur tour.

Il nous reste une bonne heure avant qu’on nous appelle pour le petit déjeuner.

Nous nous sommes levées avant l’aube, sonnerie faible de téléphone, tirées d’un rêve profond. Obscurité complète dans la chambre.

J’ai pris le volant de ma petite voiture, vaillante Honda Light qui avait fait dix heures de route la veille. Entre les vignes, l’air était gris, l’herbe terne, les rues étroites. En montant les côtes, ma Honda est lente. Sans musique, demi sommeil.

Arrivées au sommet, nous n’étions déjà pas seules. Une file devant les guichets, où un couple de personnes âgées aux mains tremblantes échangent les tickets contre des clés de casier. Le ciel vire du gris au mauve, et l’espace d’un instant, on a peur d’arriver trop tard.

Dans les vestiaires, femmes et enfants, à divers stades de dénuement.

La tête lourde, j’enlève mes vêtements, les déposent dans un panier en osier. L’air est frais sur ma peau. La lumière change — c’est presque l’heure. Serviette en main, nous dévalons le petit sentier de pierre jusqu’aux bains. Au premier pas dans l’eau, la plante des pieds me brûle. Contraste avec la roche froide.

On glisse dans l’eau de l’onsen tout juste quand la brume se lève.

Par delà le rebord de pierre, une grande vallée s’étale, telle une flaque à nos pieds. Derrière nous, les alpes japonaises. Le soleil en émerge lentement. Il est cinq heures. La vallée est encore grise.

Au loin, Fuji se dore.

Son sommet enneigé brille, du bleu au rose. Plus haut que tout ce qui l’entoure.

L’eau de l’onsen scintille, claire, et sa vapeur se lève lentement. Disparaît dans l’air en volutes dorées. Le vent est frais, altitude et fin avril, il donne envie de glisser son corps encore plus profondément dans l’eau chaude.

Je crois en la magie — ou peut-être manque-je de sommeil.

Par la fenêtre de notre chambre de ryokan, maintenant, les vignes sont vertes et brillantes, feuilles nouvelles. Fuji, dans le coin gauche, est bleu noir à sa cime. Sa neige coule du haut, carte postale, en de larges traînées veineuses.

Juliette dort à nouveau, et je me tire hors de mes couvertures.

L’eau chaude que l’auberge nous a préparée hier est encore fumante dans son thermos. Je la fais couler dans une petite tasse bleue, sans poignée. Elle se colore presque immédiatement de vert pâle au contact des feuilles thé.

Je m’assois au bord de la fenêtre.

Une heure passe. Le soleil réchauffe mes vêtements, la chambre se gorge de jaune. Je pense à Hokusai.

Quand Juliette se réveille, je lui demande si l’on s’habitue jamais à cette vue. Fuji grandeur, à tous les détours. Juliette vit à ses pieds depuis deux ans.

De sous son duvet, deux yeux qui clignent. Paupières du dessous qui se plissent, sourire, puis re-disparaissent dans un mouvement de cheveux.

« Non, » me répond-elle. « Ça prend toujours par surprise. »

[smokes-slut]

Isn’t This What You Wanted?

Summary:

You’re an outworld trader that usually delivers goods to the Lin Kuei in agreement for protection amongst your village. With your recent visit you end up trapped in the Lin Kuei Temple trying to keep warm with a certain Lin Kuei assassin.

!!MDNI 18+!!

In your village, you’re known as Y/N. You’re also known as the only girl willing to trade outside of your village's territory. You know your village is grateful for your bravery and willingness, but you can’t help but hear the murmurs and the whispers from the older villagers as you pass by to do your usual runs. Sometimes these words get to you, sometimes they don’t, but you’ve been willing to manage. The usual name calling and glaring stares don’t bother you as much as it used to when you first started your travels out of this land. Unfortunately, It can’t be helped, someone has to do it. The Lin Kuei has promised our village protection and you have yet to feel afraid in your own home. As long as we trade, we are guaranteed a peaceful night.

You’ve actually built a decent reputation in this village. You were the only one trusted in your village to deliver the supplies as you’ve become more accustomed to the harsh weather and mainly, you’re the only person who’d actually do it.

You were able to make it to your trading cart before sunrise in order to get a headstart on your journey. The journey itself isn’t long, but very harsh and uncomfortable if you didn’t know any better. It only takes you around an hour to successfully reach the Lin Kuei Temple, which of course can be determined differently, depending on if you get caught in one of those notorious snow storms. Hopefully The Elder Gods would have mercy on you during this trip. 

You’ve managed to make it to the trading shop without making a complete full of yourself in front of the village elders. When you got there you noticed that the cart itself was fuller than normal. You almost started to doubt yourself thinking you wouldn’t be able to navigate with such a heavy cart, but you’ve already made it to the village's main supply store and there’s no reason to go back. You have to deliver this today.

“Why is it so full today?” you asked the old man at the shop, referring to the extremely full cart you were meant to take today.

“Those Lin Kuei know how to eat,” he laughed shakingly, “The Grandmaster has asked us to bring double our usual today since they’re holding a feast for their members tomorrow.”

A feast? You wonder. It’s not un-normal to hear that the Lin Kuei are throwing a feast, but usually we are informed a week in advance and are better prepared.

“I see. Thank you.” You tried to push your interest in the topic to the side as you didn’t want to fall back on time just because you wanted to be nosey. You go to the back of the store to retrieve your reliable donkey Isa and attach her to the cart for better transportation.

“Are you ready girl?” You said to her cheerfully. You  waved off to the village store owner, and he waved back in return. You walked through your village gates and started for the usual trail towards the Lin Kuei Temple, in hopes that you would make it there before noon.

---

You’ve only made it but halfway, and you already felt extremely tired, this was unlike you. Usually you’re up and ready to start your journey, and sometimes you make it there in no stops. But today, you’re going to need to rest. If you’re feeling tired, then so is Isa. You unattached her from the cart so that she could roam freely and not feel so suffocated while fulfilling her animal needs.

A cold breeze hit your face as you sat on the dirt path, leaning your back against a tree. The breeze was a good sign that you were getting close. For whatever reason, The Lin Kuei always had some kind of cold attraction around its territory. Thankfully, you came prepared with a set of warm clothes and gloves for your trip.

After some time passed by, you decided now was best to continue along with your journey. You got up from your sitting position and went to attach Isa back to the cart.

“Isa!”. You called out, but she was nowhere to be found.

“Shit”. You, now on foot, went to look for Isa as you kept calling her name. An even harsher gust of freezing air consumes your body leaving you freezing cold and hugging yourself for warmth. There was a blizzard coming

“Isa, come on where are you!” you yelled. The storm was blocking the sun causing it to get dark out. All of a sudden a noise behind you scared you causing you to jump and run in the opposite direction. You don’t know if what you were running from was actually something chasing you or just a random animal walking by. All you know is that you were frightened. Running in the middle of a blizzard wasn’t the smartest decision to make but at this point you didn’t care. You looked back as you were running and as soon as your eyes adjusted to your surroundings, you crashed into something hard and an ‘oof’ left your mouth as you and the foreign object collided. The sudden impact caused you to fall and collapse on the snowy terrain as the collision left you unconscious.

---

An unknown amount of time has passed since your last conscious thought and that really didn’t matter. You moved around slowly in what feels like a bed, considering there’s a pillow tucked nicely under your head, that guess wasn’t too far off. The sensation of it all made you feel all too relaxed and comfortable. So comfortable to the point that the understanding of you being in a bed right now made so much sense. After laying down for some time, practically sinking into the bed sheets, the initial shock of what’s going on hit you causing you to sit upright almost immediately.

“Why am I in bed right now?” You said to yourself noticeably confused. You looked around your surroundings, waiting for your vision to focus in this dimly lit room you were placed in. You noticed that the room you were in seemed fairly small. It wasn’t prison cell small, but more like dorm room small. You could walk around but it wouldn’t take long for you to reach the other end of the wall.

“Where the hell am I?” After hopping out of bed, a wave of dizziness took over you almost instantly causing you to fall towards the ground, but you swiftly caught yourself on the nearby side table. A sudden discomfort in your head caused you to reach towards your temple. The feeling of cloth on your forehead shocked you. Realizing how you must’ve got in this predicament made you sigh loudly.

“I can’t believe I did that,” You blamed yourself. “Now I'm in some random person's house, probably in some random ass location,” You’re about to storm out of the room, visibly pissed. You reached for the door handle and yanked the door open “and I probably…” you suddenly froze mid sentence.

“Oh, you’re out of bed?” You couldn’t help but let your mouth drop wide open as an unknown man was standing in front of you. Talking to you. He was fairly taller than you, causing him to look down upon you as he spoke. His voice was welcoming as well as comforting. You couldn’t help but look around to make sure he was talking to you.

“Are you, uh..ok?” You notice that he’s almost talking in a somewhat uncomfortable tone. So to make matters less embarrassing you answer him.

“Oh, yes. I’m fine.” You try to answer him the best you could without embarrassing yourself, but you couldn’t shake the fact that this random, yet attractive, man was talking to you. You try to speak again.

“Um, where am I?” you asked quickly.

“Oh right, my apologies Ms…” he was waiting for you to tell him your name.

“Y/N, my name is Y/N.”

“Y/N, ” he said slowly “…my team and I found you laying on the ground covered in snow in front of the temple. You were really out of it you know, you even had a huge bruise on your forehead. From the way that you were positioned, it looked as if you ran into a-”

“Ok Ok, spare the details will you. I’m already embarrassed enough,” You cut him off unintentionally, not ready to come to terms with the fact that you were being so careless. He chuckled almost naturally at you, having admitted to your current state of embarrassment. You sought this to be a good time to ask his name.

“My name? Oh how impolite of me, my name is Smoke.”

“Smoke?” you asked, trying not to sound too judgy. “Is it some kind of code name?”

“Yes, it is actually” he laughed again, throwing his head back slightly.

“Well then…can I know your real name?” You ask curiously.

“If I tell you…I would have to kill you.” he said slowly and even paused for a moment, his tone was more serious almost instantly causing you to become uneasy.

“Wait what?” You said nervously laughing, hoping he was joking.

“I’m just joking, lighten up dear, I wouldn’t do such a thing. My name is Tomas” he reaches his hand out to you, signaling you to shake his hand. You do so cautiously.

“Well Tomas,” you look at his facial expressions for approval of you choosing to use his actual name instead of his codename. You don’t see any signs of disapproval so you continue “you said I was at a temple, which one may I ask?”

“Well Y/N, you’re at the Lin Kuei Temple.”

“The Lin Kuei?” you said rather loudly. Your voice echoing through the large halls.

“Yes, and I was coming to check up on you, you’ve been unconscious since last night. I wanted to come and change your bandages-”

“Did you find the cart?” you cut him off yet again, almost urgently. The tone in your voice startled Tomas causing him to step back as you basically jolted at him.

“The cart full of goods? Yes. My men found it some several feet away from your unconscious body. I truly hope you’d forgive them  as they seem to have taken some of the goods for themselves." You can tell that he was very apologetic.

“No it’s ok,” you let out a sigh “The cart was for your clan anyways.” 

 At least something good came out of this unfortunate circumstance.

“Then with that being said, I must go back to my village, my job is done here.” You try to swiftly walk past Smoke heading in whatever direction you believed to be the closest way out of here before you felt a rough hand grab your wrist stopping you from walking away.

“I’m sorry Y/N, but I can’t let you do that. I’ve been instructed to not let you leave until the storm clears up.” Theis sudden actions from him caused you to feel such emotions you haven’t felt in a very long time. The sudden roughness caused you to feel aroused even when you knew it shouldn’t have. You froze from shock as a light blush crept over your face. You couldn’t help but look up at him slowly, hopefully unaware of what his spontaneous touch has done to you. You catch him smirking at you. Did he know? Gods he was attractive. He pulled away slowly. You couldn’t help but scream in your head wishing that he kept his hand there longer or even forever.

“I see my actions have affected you?” he said in a teasing yet flirtatious matter. Shit, he knew. The blush across your face brightened, there’s no way to hide it.

“It’s just that..I um.” you fumble around your words, obviously affected.

“No, It’s my fault. My apologies Y/N, please forgive me.” he bowed deeply but still remained eye contact with you. His tone changed. It softened to a more, dare I say, seductive tone. One that would send any woman on their knees desperately for this man. But he was dangerous. It would be foolish to fall for a Lin Kuei warrior. You were still shocked at the fact that this fine specimen of a man was bowing to you, you couldn’t hear the sound of your stomach growling. But, he, of course, noticed.

“Oh are you hungry Y/N?” Smoke asked, seemingly switching back to the non lustful man he first introduced himself as. If you weren't embarrassed already, you 100% are now. You completely ruined the mood, and that’s all thanks to your digestive system.

“I could eat something?”. You could eat a horse right now. You just wanted to keep it cute in front of this man. It felt like you didn’t eat anything for the past two days. 

Smoke let out another soft chuckle.

“Come then. We’re about to have a feast for our new recruits.” he reached his hand out to you signaling for you to take it. Without thinking you took his hand into yours. His hands were warm yet rough. You were trying your best not to intertwine your fingers with his, instead you placed your palm in his hand. He smirked and looked back at you. You swear you could’ve dropped to your knees at the moment. You quickly got yourself together and followed him down the hall to the dining area.

---

After a concerning amount of time walking, both of you managed to make it to the dining area. You noticed how long the several tables were in the hall. All of which were placed in five different rows. Each table being decorated with all kinds of different foods, some of which were noticeably from the cart that you brought up here. The hall was filled with small chatters and occasional laughter from the clan members talking to each other. The room smelt of cooked meat causing your stomach to growl even louder. You felt a nudge from Smoke and I looked up at him.

“Are you drooling?” He smiled almost teasingly.

“N-no!” yes you were and you knew it. “I just never seen so many people enjoying themselves together.”

“Well, that’s my normal. It’s kinda nice.” He takes your hand again, leading you to a table that wasn’t very crowded and signaled for you to sit. He sat to the right of you handing you a plate so you could start eating. You thanked him, and started sectioning your plate with food.

“Hey, Tomas!” You looked up to see who was calling for Smoke and you noticed a yellow cladded warrior walking towards you guys coming to talk to Tomas. “I’ve been searching for you all day, where have you been?”.

“My apologies Kuai Liang, I was instructed to check in on our guest from the other day.” Referring to you, you gave the Yellow assassin a slight wave.

“Oh, you’re the one we found last night in the snow that ran into that-”

“Save it Kuai,” Smoke giggled “she’s been through so much already, isn’t that right Y/N” as he said that he placed his hand on your thigh from under the table, while smiling at you innocently. The blush around your face started to appear again all at the same time Kuai was looking at you for a response.

“I uh, yes. I’ve uh-” you couldn’t even form an actual sentence.

“Are you ok?” Kuai asked. You felt Smokes hand softly caress your leg. His hand made its way closer to your inner thigh. You were more than certain that he could feel the warmth in between your legs with how close he was. 

“Sorry, I just um” he’s making it impossible for you to speak.

“Tomas, keep a close eye on her. I think she may still be feeling ill.” Kuai’s eyebrow lifted as he continued to stare at you even while talking to Smoke.

“Yes, of course brother.” He smiled at Kuai as he walked away. He lifted his hand from off of your thigh and looked at you and smiled. He stood up from the table and left.

“Tomas?” you called to him but he didn’t answer. He just walked away and exited the dining hall.

---

Curious for his sudden departure, you excuse yourself from the dining table and follow after Smoke. You didn’t know if he went left or right due to how complicated the Lin Kuei halls were. They zig-zagged every way possible making it nearly impossible for you to figure your way back to the dinning hall even if you really wanted to. You decided to just keep walking hoping that you would eventually find Smoke. As you walked down the hall you noticed that one of the many room doors were open. You approached the door hoping Smoke would be in it.

“Tomas?” you called out to him as you entered the dimly lit room. No response. You walked further in the room to have a look around and noticed that it was somewhat like your room but much bigger. There was a dresser and a separate room for the bathroom, there was even a couch in the room.

“Y/N” You heard your name being called as you started looking around the room. You focused your eyesight on the figure that was on the couch. you swear it wasn’t there before. You walked closer to the shadow, not knowing if you were in danger or not. The figure stood to its feet and started walking towards you almost menacingly. Unsure, you try and take a few steps back. Each step that the figure made towards you, was a step you made backwards.

“Tomas, is that you?” you asked. “You’re scaring me.” It was true. You were starting to feel uneasy yet unable to run. Your legs were eventually pinned to what felt like the edge of a bed. You fell back on it, and the figure continued to approach you.

“Y/N” the figure called out to you. You started to make out some noticeable features and noticed that it was indeed Smoke. He was staring at you, his eyes low. Hungry even. You were confused because he didn’t usually look at you like that unless he was flirting with you, and even then you thought he was joking just to get under your skin. He walked over to you. You felt the edge of the bed dip down as he crawled on it. Towards you. “Did you follow me here?” Smoke said, smirking. “I didn’t leave you for long, did you miss me that bad?”

He was waiting for me to respond, but I just couldn’t. This was all too much. I couldn’t respond, my body wouldn’t let me. You tried to form whatever sentence you could get out of yourself.

“I was just uh, trying to um.” Smoke took this as a sign that you were being flustered over his actions. A sign that you enjoyed what was happening. He took the first initiative and decided to continue where he left off at the dining hall. He placed his hand on your right thigh and started to caress it again. He held himself up with his free hand as his knees were at either side of your legs, pinning you in place. His rough yet gentle hands made its way yet again, towards your inner thigh. The feeling of him touching you caused you to look away in embarrassment, you felt your face starting to get warm and decided to hide it from his view.

“Look at me while I’m touching you Y/N, isn’t this what you wanted? For me to touch you like the dirty slut you are?” he said it in such a demanding yet dominating tone it startled you. You couldn’t help but to do as you were told and look up at him. “Good girl.” he said to you. His tone switching from demanding to more of a seductive tone, you couldn’t help but to get wet just from hearing this man speak to you. His hand went deeper down your thigh, slowly reaching for your warmth. Once he reached it, he pressed his thumb down on your clit and started moving his thumb in circular motions through your pants. You couldn’t help but to squirm under him.

“Smoke” you moaned.

“Yes, Princess?” he answered you, still not taking his eyes off of yours as he searches for all the pleasure he’s putting you through. “Speak Princess, tell me what you need from me.” his thumb started to increase in pace as he was talking to you. He was making it harder for you to respond. He was doing it on purpose. You watched as that sadistic grin grew on his face.

“More…please. I need you to-” You were practically grinding on his hand wishing for more friction between you two without sounding too desperate.

“You need me to do what? Say it louder princess.” he was enjoying you begging under him, You could feel him staring down at you as you closed your eyes to focus on his fingers touching you.

“I want you to fuck me Tomas, please!” The sudden volume in your tone set him back a little bit, but eventually caused his grin to grow much bigger.

“Of course Princess” you felt him shift his position a bit. “But first, let me enjoy you a little longer.” you didn’t know what he meant by that but he eventually made his way down to the end of the bed. You sat up using your elbows to look at him, concerned about his next move. He leaned over you once again, grabbed you by your waistband, and tore off both your pants and your underwear in one swift motion. The sudden cold breeze to your exposed skin aroused you even more than you already were. You noticed that smoke couldn’t take his eyes off of your exposed cunt. It made you nervous to the point that you tried to cover yourself up with your hand. Before you could even reach for yourself, Smoke grabbed you by your wrist and stared at you.

“Don’t hide from me Princess, I’m just admiring your beauty.” he said it so softly any prior thought you had to cover up was gone. “Now. Let’s get this started shall we?” without you needing to confirm, he pulled you closer to him by using your ankles. He then positioned himself so that he was on his knees, on the floor, and you were at the edge of the bed. Him now face to face with your womanhood, you swore you could see him lick his lips. He positioned your legs around his shoulders and placed you in a position that allowed him to take full advantage of you. With you still sitting up by your elbows, you noticed his head dipped between your legs and you immediately felt something wet on your clit. The sudden realization of it all made you feel just too good. You threw your head back while trying to hold back a moan that was threatening to escape your mouth. You felt one of his rough hands on your stomach, pushing you to lay down.

“Lay back for me Princess.” You do as you're told. Both of his hands, simultaneously, snake around your legs to reach for your inner thigh. Smoke was pulling you closer to him so that there was no space between him and your cunt. The closeness daring you to moan as you try and cover your mouth so that the other Lin Kuei members wouldn’t possibly hear you. Smoke didn’t like this. “These walls are soundproof Princess, don’t be scared to let it out for me.” he looked up to you all while working his tongue on your clit. You were still unsure if you should let the moans out or if you should just keep them from escaping. Smoke, seeing your hesitation, roughly smacked the side of your inner thigh causing you to moan loudly. You could see him smirking as he’s eating you out, “Good girl.” he praised. 

All of this attention to your clit was just too overstimulating, smoke was trapping you from pushing away from this satisfaction as he had a firm grip around your thighs. Just as you thought he couldn’t top his actions, he removed one of his hands from your thigh and slowly started to press two of his fingers into you.

“Ah Tomas!” you moaned. The sudden stretch caught you off guard as you could feel his fingers going in and out your pussy. You threw your head back on the pillows yet again. Smoke smiled and continued to devour your clit with his tongue while his fingers worked inside your folds. You could feel your juices rushing out of you as the warmth and softness from his tongue and the roughness from his fingers worked wonders between your legs. You couldn’t help but feel a rush of pleasure overcome you. 

“Smoke I-” you tried to get out.

“Yes Princess? What is it?” He was doing it again. He knows you wouldn’t be able to get a word out. His pace growing a tad faster.

“Smoke…I think I-i’m going t-to cum.” You tried to get the words out to the best of your abilities.

“You’ll cum when I let you cum Princess, is that Understood.” You swear tears were going to fall out of your eyes at any moment if you didn’t get the release that you deserved. “Now maybe, if you ask me to let you cum and you use my name, I'll let you have what you want.” You try again,

“Smoke can I please-”

“Wrong! Not the right name Princess.” He started to increase in pace. The build up forming in your lower stomach was starting to become just too much. He was working wonders between your legs. You could occasionally feel him breath out of his nose as the air passed by your wet clit causing a chill to go up your spine.

“Thomas please.” you were begging him at this point. Your juices are threatening to spill out.

“Say it right Princess!” you could hear him growl his words.

“Please Tomas, can I cum for you. Just please let me cum for you!” you never begged at a man or for a man, but today you did. You couldn’t control yourself. Your legs were threatening to close but Smoke kept them open. You heard him let out a deep sigh in between your thighs, seemingly amused at your urgency towards him. Just when you thought you couldn’t handle much more, you heard him whisper your release word.

“Cum”

And just like that you let everything out. Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave. You let out a yell of pleasure so loud that you didn’t care if anyone could hear you or not. Your body started uncontrollably shaking upon release. Smoke just wouldn’t stop his torture on your now sensitive clit. His fingers were working you through your orgasm, making sure to apply pressure to your G-spot at all times. After you had came, your breathing went back to normal. You watched as Smoke made sure to clean as much as he possibly could from your now soaked cunt. Not a single drop of your juices would he let go to waste. The sudden overstimulation caused tears to fall out of your eyes. A light, yet uncontrollable sob left your lips. You weren’t sad or uncomfortable, you were just overstimulated and it felt so good.

“Are those tears Princess?” Smoked asked me as he got up from his position simultaneously licking his fingers as he smirked. “I still hope you don’t think this is over yet,” your tired eyes shift over to him “I still have a lot left in me.” he taunted you as you watched him pull his length out from his pants and stroke himself with whatever juices he had left on his fingers. He crawled back over to you. His wide shoulders towering over your frame. His eyes locked onto yours. “Are you ready Princess?” He asked you as his mouth started to attack the flesh around your neck. The pressure from him sucking on your sensitive spots caused you to open your mouth and let out a moan. From that, Smoke took that as an answer, and slid his length into you. The moans from your mouth grew louder as he was pounding into your already abused pussy, the sound of your arousal evident between each thrust. He let out a few growls of satisfaction in your ear every thrust or two causing your arousal to grow stronger. You can feel him stretch you with every thrust. Your hands have made their way around his back, seemingly holding on for more stability. After a while you started to dig your nails into his back with each deep and rough stroke he put you through. “Do you like it Princess? You’re taking me like the good little slut you are isn’t that right?” You couldn’t help it, your moans were practically getting louder. His voice was just so tantalizing. The way he talked you through each stroke was just so good.

“Yes AH Tomas you AH m-make me feel s-so go-od.” You were trying to answer him through each pounding stroke but they were just too strong. You eventually felt that familiar feeling not too long ago signally that you are about to cum again. “Tomas?” you warned him.

“Not yet” he hissed. You could tell that he was working up his own orgasm by how loud his groans were sounding in your ear. After a few strokes his breathing started to increase and so was yours.

“Cum for me, Princess.” he asked you. That familiar feeling was soon released as you squeezed Smoke tightly as he fucked you through yours and his orgasm. He let out a loud moan as he closed his eyes tight and his dick twitched inside of you. After the feeling of warmth entering your cunt, Smoke’s sweaty body collapsed gently onto yours.

About five minutes passed by and Smoke finally got up after you both got your breathing together. You watched as he walked over to the bathroom and came out with what looked like a towel. He got closer to you and started cleaning you off. It was a warm towel. The feeling of it all was just so comforting. After he made sure to clean you up real good he cleaned himself off with the same towel. He threw it to the floor and walked to your side of the bed. He handed you a nice cold water bottle that you sipped willingly. He climbed back into the bed and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you closer. He kissed your neck and hummed in your ear until you eventually fell asleep.

Even after what you guys did, you didn’t even realize that the blizzard stopped some 30-minutes ago. You really didn’t care as your body needed to rest after all the stress it’s been put through.

“Goodnight Princess.” smoked purred in your ear.

“Goodnight Tomas.” You kissed him goodnight and you both fell asleep.

---

This is my first ever fanfict. I just had too. Iv'e been obsessed with this man since Mk9.

[onceupontimebrl]

Ça va vraiment pas au boulot en ce moment,

Ça me bouffe le soir quand je rentre

Le temps que l'angoisse s'échappe.

Je me réveil en pleine nuit,

Le souffle coupé et la tête pleine de remords.

J'ai l'impression qu'à tout moment, ça va me tomber dessus ,

Que je suis sous un château de carte qui pourrait s'effondrer.

Et je sais pas trop comment j'en suis arrivée là,

Ça a commencé par des à peu près,

Des trucs que je savais pas faire, comment j'aurais pu savoir faire.

L'impression d'avoir été jettée dans le grand bain,

Et que tout le monde fait semblant,

De ne pas voir que je coule.

Sauf lui, qui me tire par le pied pour me couler encore plus vite.

Son nom s'affiche sur mon téléphone,

Je sens déjà l'angoisse qui s'installe.

Heureusement qu'il y'a tout le reste, les copains, la coloc, le soleil qui pointe entre les nuages du coeur de l'automne.

C'est les rires qui réparent, et les etreintes qui sauvent.