Story cover for Let The Game Begin by shakespork
Let The Game Begin
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    Leituras 42
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    Votos 1
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    Capítulos 1
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    Tempo 11m
  • WpView
    Leituras 42
  • WpVote
    Votos 1
  • WpPart
    Capítulos 1
  • WpHistory
    Tempo 11m
Em andamento, Primeira publicação em dez 04, 2014
“If you want to catch a fish, make a way to have it chase you: bait your prey!”

That’s her principle. She sees the world as an arena—a battlefield wherein wits and guts are what matters. And those who are weak, those who let their emotions drive them eventually loses. It is a game of logic, an art of philosophy—the one thing she’s got, and she’ll gonna use it as her asset to manipulate and control other people, specifically her target.

If you think men are the only beings capable of playing this game, well, Rei Yoon will show you that women can be dominant in the battlefield either, especially when this game she’s playing has aims, vengeance.
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Psychic Shorthand, de Star_Tro
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MC: Here's a How Not to Survive a Hostage Situation: Don't be me. Rule#1 Don't meet a guy fighting against cutlery. Rule#2 Don't get mistaken for someone with talent when you've absolutely none. Rule#3 Don't let a war, a high-stakes revenge plot, and one human weapon disguised as a person wreck your already failing life. (Oh, and don't expect me to tell you my name. You'll have to earn that.) But if you do? Congrats. You're now in my position-trapped, bleeding, and somehow still expected to be the sane one. Trowa: You're not the sane one. MC: Okay, first of all-rude. Second of all, enter Trowa. Trowa: Don't enter me into this. MC: Sigh. He's a questionable ally who moves people like chess pieces. Trowa: Incorrect. I don't play chess with lives. I just... redecorate the board when necessary. MC: Yeah. That's so much better. He plans. I panic. Together, we're one bad decision away from death. Trowa: Two. I have contingencies. MC: Oh, great. So we die second. Fantastic. And if we survive this, I'm going to need therapy. Trowa: You need therapy even if we don't. ################################## She was supposed to be a bystander. Now, she's bleeding in the middle of a war she doesn't understand. A single step-wrong place, wrong time-and now she's entangled in a brutal game of shifting alliances, weaponized secrets, and people who treat lives like collateral. She wanted quiet. Instead, she's dodging kidnappers, advanced tech, and a human weapon in the shape of a too-strategic ally. The worst part? She is not important-just unlucky. And in this kind of game, even those important don't survive long. ################################## For fans of sarcastic narrators, bad decisions, and humor that's basically Percy Jackson... if he grew up, got more cynical, bled more, and forgot how to run away. ##################################
On Decadence , de Mourushee
3 capítulos Concluída Maduro
John knows how the game ends Say, what part of her isn't worth it? Dirtying your fingers in white, like her dress and her words, or like her silky, silky fingers weaving worlds of tender pleas. And she pleads and pleads, fistfuls of sapphires in those eyes, that sharp voice like a medicine. Like a fallen Queen, the best you can do is claim the place by her side. She wasn't spitting lies at you; none of this was a lie, a ploy, an excuse. It's good enough for you. Like a disregarded Queen, you don't get to hold her power in your hand, but she holds your hand like it is the work of God. You reach the dead end of insanity but there's nothing ahead. There's this girl; she's deranged, just like you. ••••••••••••••••••••••••••• Lisa knows how the game starts. But there's a catch; you'll find it's extremely hard to play without being aware of the rules. You'll find that, if there are rules, John doesn't play by any of them. Lisa doesn't think that man even listens to himself. One simple thing they taught her: a game is a game so long as the opponent stands a chance. Here, that's Utopia. Between a human and a toy, the line is all too blurred, hardly real, like the gentle humming of a mother in the next room of your memory. A predator lures its prey directly in its fauces and throat, just as John Carter can be an undeniably good captor. Not necessarily merciful. Not really. Not ever. But he's good, he's kind. Brave. Beautiful. The man he pretends to be is. You reach the end of the abyss but there's nothing ahead. There's this boy;he's empty just like you
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