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Discoholic 🪩
taylor price

Kiana Khansmith

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ojovivo
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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Claire Keane
NASA
Jules of Nature
Misplaced Lens Cap
todays bird

titsay
h
we're not kids anymore.
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
One Nice Bug Per Day

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@noxiandiplomacy
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Diana-the daughter of the moon by ~Bakushade
just doodling darius to get back in the groove of things. took my test, wasn’t even that hard, and im pretty sure the next one will be easier :o ive been feeling like drawing for a while now, so yeah. I have a cold, and im bored. His face isn’t exactly like i wanted it, but there it is
TFW you ult the entire team
Well, since Helena got an M!A to be a champion in League of Legends I thought why not draw her as one. So here is Helena dressed in Miss Fortune’s clothes (the guns were too difficult to draw for a half an hour doodle :/ ) since that’s who she has to dress as for the next 3 days XD
Délaisser : Abandon
He had waited a long, long time for this.
Slipping through the shadows, he crept along just behind the lad, light and soundless as fog. This was almost too familiar-- Talon couldn't even begin to count the number of times he'd trailed behind a mark, just out of range and waiting to strike.... but this time? This time was different.
They were close to that lovely clearing, the one with the little pool where the moonlight liked to play, where he'd caught up with the lad one night so many weeks ago. What a pity that the lad seemed to avoid the area now-- it would be the perfect place for a little chat. Talon wasn't pleased with the things he'd come home to find, not the rumors of clandestine hookups to the blatant hickies that bloomed across the boy's throat. It set a cold fire through his veins, and Talon's lips pressed together in a thin line of thought as he wove his way through the trees. He was beginning to tire of this game of cat and mouse, and now, in the dark of the treeline, seemed a good a time as any to make his presence known.
"Did you really think I'd let you forget so easily?"
His hand snaked about to grab the explorer's throat just beneath the chin, grip tightening until Talon could feel the lad's pulse fluttering. Good, let Ezreal be frightened-- he wasn't joking around any longer. Jerking the boy's hips back against his own, he allowed the familiar scent of leather and sunlight distract him, an ache beginning in his chest. This was what he missed, this was what he needed. All that time in a dank dusty cell had left him starving for fresh air and human contact. Not that the boy needed to know that, of course.
"You're mine until I say otherwise, little one," he growled, lips pressing to the shell of the blonde's ear, teeth parting to nibble at the velvety flesh. It was easy to kiss his way down the soft, exposed skin, to suck and nip and bite at the pale expanse of the explorer's throat. He'd missed this feeling, missed the sweet, sharp sounds that accompanied.
"I don't care how many others you've had, how many others have had you... they'll never be me. I'll ruin you for them, lad, until you'll be with them, but all you'll be thinking about are my hands, my lips... won't that be a pity, eh?"
Bucking his hips, Talon nudged the lad away, flinty gaze already surveying the dark, blotchy mark that bloomed across the lad's throat. Good, let the other's see that he was taken.
The smile that flitted across his lips was more cold that friendly, and Talon gave a two fingered salute of departure.
"You know where to find me, little one..."
Source
//I don't normally do munday things, but I figured this picture of myself, my disgruntled hedgehog, and my darling roommate was to good to pass up.
Miroir : Mirror((Talon and Caitlyn, no romantics if you wish))
Mirrors have often been regarded as sacred, as venues through this reality to one of our own design. Talon completely disregarded this belief, however, in favor of his own: mirrors were a both a bother and a saving grace. They revealed his pursuers just as often as they revealed him to his pursuers. Mirrors were a tricky breed not to be trifled with.
In this instance, however, he would have to admit they were rather useful.
The Hall of Mirrors was a popular attraction, however simple it was. There was something fascinating about walking down the path to see millions and millions of yourself reflected back, moving in unison with your own motions as you attempt to muddle your way through a twisting maze.
More importantly, this was the perfect place to lose a trigger happy sheriff.
On feet of fog and shadow, he skulked down the narrow, twisting path, gloved fingers skimming the surface of the glass. It was eerie, to walk into yourself, and Talon found himself flinching every time he turned a corner to look himself dead in the eye. The air was dead and still, and time seemed to suspend; this was a realm all in its own, and she was everywhere.
Caitlyn bounced off the ceilings, lurked around every corner-- Talon would swear he felt the barrel of her gun grazing the nape of his neck each time he turned. The sole saving grace was the idea that she was just as confused as he, and thus would not be able to work her way through as quickly.
Besides, he had a head start, eh?
It did give him ample opportunity to study her features, however, from the soft curve of her cheek to the flinty determination in her eye. Though they orbited each other on a regular basis, generally he was too preoccupied with not being punched full of holes to pay much attention. Like a prowling cat she was graceful, limbs lithe and willowy, and Talon found himself rather distracted by the frustrated part of her lips, the pert wrinkle of her nose.
Perhaps that's why he almost stumbled into her.
At first, it had appeared to be yet another reflection-- Caitlyn was turned away, arms extended before her as though she was just about to take flight. It was rather amusing, really, to watch her stumble forward, swearing beneath her breath--
Her breath. He could hear her breathing.
The sound was almost shocking after spending so long in silence, and Talon blanched, instinctively stopping dead in his tracks. It seemed as though she had yet to notice him-- the mirrors had effectively confused her sense, just as he'd hoped. A delicious sense of satisfaction came over him-- Talon had forgotten how thrilling it was to play cat instead of mouse. For a few moments, he merely watched her, enjoying the tense sort of electricity that hummed accompanied the moment. With quick, light steps, he stole up behind her, snatching her hands up before she could so much as gasp in surprise.
"Sheriff," he murmured, voice but a low rumble of amusement as she struggled against him. The rifle on her back was cold, but that didn't stop Talon from pressing his body against her own, nudging a knee between her own.
Like an eel she wriggled, and a grimace of annoyance slipped over his lips as he struggled to contain her. Trapping both her wrists in one hand, Talon drew a length of cord from the pocket of his cloak-- one never knew when cord would be useful, and it was a staple in any thief's kit-- and bound her hands tightly. There would be none of this escaping business, not today.
"Proud of yourself, aren't you thief? What a pity it takes cheap tricks for you to catch me-- really, I'd thought you better than this."
"I never said I was fair, sheriff-- you decided that all on your own," he intoned, hooking a hand about her waist so as to jerk her to a halt. Talon was tired of her struggles, and was growing weary of her sharp tongue with every passing second. "Only you'd expect a thief to play by the rules, eh?"
Her writhing had knocked back his hood, and glancing up, Talon was all at once startled by the sight they made-- her skin was pale against his own, and hot indignation had brought a flush to the curve of her cheeks. A heat stirred in him where her body pressed against his own, soft and foreign, and Talon found it all to easy to fit his lips against her ear and murmur, "Besides, I rather like it when I win."
Absentmindedly his fingertips stroked circles on the cloth of her short dress, stealing down to cup the sharp bone of her hip, the smoothness of her thigh. She squirmed against him, breath coming in short, rapid bursts, and Talon found himself smiling as he sank his teeth into the velvety flesh of her earlobe, sucking harshly.
Without thinking he glanced up into the mirror before them, eyes of silver catching her own of gold and brown, and it all become to real. Abruptly, he released her, shoving the sheriff forward almost roughly. She was incapacitated, he could leave freely now.
"Until next time..." he added, voice but the ghost of a whisper as he disappeared into the glittering maze once more.
Perhaps next time he'd manage to keep his damned priorities straight. She was an officer, the one trying to incarcerate his ass. She was not interesting, was not even human. She was a target.
Place one of these words and a character/pairing/series in my inbox and I'll write a drabble about it
Baigner : Bath
Baiser : Kiss
Balafre : Scar
Bâti : Bed
Cauchemar : Nightmare
Chant : Song
Chuchotement : Whisper
Cœur : Heart
Danse : Dance
Décès : Death
Délaisser : Abandon
Disparu : Lost
Enfant : Child
Famine : Starvation
Flamme : Flame
Fleur : Flower
Frère : Brother
Haine : Hate
Jardin : Garden
Lame : Blade
Lèvres : Lips
Liberté
Mains : Hands
Maudit : Cursed
Mensonge : Lie
Mère : Mother
Miroir : Mirror
Monstre : Monster
Neige : Snow
Nostalgie : Nostalgia
Ombre : Shadow
Père : Father
Pitié : Mercy
Pluie : Rain
Regard : Gaze
Respirer : Breathe
Rêverie : Dream
Rire : Laughter
Sang : Blood
Spectre : Ghost
Sœur : Sister
Soif : Thirst
Sûr : Safe
Tonnerre : Thunder
Vin : Wine
Prison Break.
Prison is hard on a body.
Muscle melts off your body in thick, fat waves, and bones creep forward in double time, pressing against the skin until it stretches and aches; all that's left is a hollow man of broken pride and steel in his rusty bite.
He had been the best-- top dog, king of the castle. He had prowled the streets with all the swagger of a street lord and none of the backup-- he didn't need it. The mere whisper of his name had been enough to set the streets quaking, to send children running to their mother's skirts because she always warned them that the big bad shadow man would steal them away. Whores did not dare solicit his attention, but tavern wives would flutter about him in a flurry of aprons and "tut"s, scolding him for the wound and bruises as they pecked a kiss on his cheek in good bye. They knew his gentleness, and stilled the heavy hands of their husbands who so desperately wanted him out.
Now? Now, he was but a ghost.
The knives on his back clinked with every crooked step, the sound bouncing off the high walls of the alley. Already he had made out the spooked glances of street urchins, the curious stares of petty street thieves. They could accost him this very moment, slit his throat, and leave him for dead without much trouble. The only thing holding them at bay was the legend that walked before him, the blaze hollow silver eyes beneath the dark shadow of his hood.
Sharp white puffs billowed before him, a visible reminder of his sorry state-- simply walking could tire him now. He hadn't been outside since the last heist, when Piltover had been caressed by sweet summer breezes and a harvest moon glowered over head. It had been a rather tricky break in, but with Kat by his side they had made quick work of the security system. In fact, they'd even been laughing when that damned sheriff caught them, laughing like school children making mischief behind their teacher's back.
It had been achingly sweet to see her smile again.
At least Kat had gotten out safely; he would have never forgiven himself if she had been forced through the hell he had endured. Talon would never forget the feeling of looking up the barrel of a gun—damn the sheriff, with her damned rifle and damned holding cells deep in the belly of the earth where no light shines through, where no sound creeps down between the rocks. Had he imagined the look of sympathy in Caitlyn's eye, or was that simply disappointment? Their elaborate game of cat and mouse had drawn to a close--or so she thought. One did not keep a shadow in chains, at least not for long. He may be a dog, a mutt, but Talon had connections in the underworld that reached even into her perfect prison. It had only taken time.
But that didn't matter. Now? Now, he simply wanted to get home, back to the dark high halls that rang with the sound of her laughter, where candle light flickered on copper locks and silver blades. She had filled his waking thoughts every moment of the day; he had branded her image on the backs of his eye lids, had tasted her name on his tongue. Katarina. Kat. ‘Rina.
Now, if only he could say the same of his dreams.
Dreams are a funny thing, really, especially when the days and nights and waking and sleeping begin to blend together in a miasma of sensation. Brilliant blue eyes blinked back at him from the gloom, glinting with amusement and cheeky humor. Sunlight hair of corn silk and butter was soft between his fingers, and calloused hands traced patterns upon the cold skin of his neck, sending goose flesh in waves down his back. How much of these dreams could he contribute to half starved delirium? How much of these dreams could he blame on frustration, on unanswered questions and half-baked advances?
Images of princess and explorer mixed into a kaleidoscopic swirl of sensation, but it was the rough, low voice and leather gloved hands that kept him sane on the long, dark nights.
But he wouldn't think of that now, not when waves of fatigue were crashing over his thin limbs, when starvation clawed at his innards with renewed vigor.
Now, it was time for home.
Source: Miss~Kiki89
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