#but he’s so dirty! and Oliver’s dirty! and Oliver has like a purple stain on his white pants?

[theamberwriter]

Haircuts [2p!Canada||Matt Williams]

Pairing: 2p!Canada/Matt Williams x Reader

Word Count: 2028

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: This is the only thing I ever actually wrote for 2p!Canada, but he was my favourite back in the day! I know Hetalia has hit its peak already. But I still like posting some of my old stuff. 

“Ar-Are you sure you wanna do this, Mattie?” you asked quietly. You had scissors poised around your boyfriend’s cute little ponytail, he was determined to have it hacked off. 

“Yeah, I’m sure. Just cut it off already,” he grunted, you heard the wooden stool he was on groan as he dug in his fingers.

Your hand with the scissors twitched, you really didn’t want to do this. You loved his silky, dirty blonde hair how it was. You thought he did too, what triggered the sudden change of heart? 

You pulled the scissors away and sighed, “Does this have to do with what Al said earlier?”

Matt stayed silent, and you could only imagine the scowl on his face. Al had been making fun of Matt’s ponytail all week. You rolled your eyes, your shoulders slumping some. Of course this was because of Al. “I like your hair the way it is – besides, it’s real fun to grab onto –”

Matt interrupted you bitterly, “How many of your First Player guy friends have ponytails?” 

You flinched, why did he always have to bring them into this? You couldn’t help that you were the go-between for the First and Second Players! Hell, it was because of your relationship with Matt (and the fact that you got along with basically everyone) that you were delegated the pain-in-ass job as a mediator/babysitter. 

You stuttered, trying frantically to think over your friends. “Yao –”

“That prick doesn’t count,” growled the blonde.

You sighed, of course he didn’t. You then tried frantically to think of any other of your friends, but none came right off the bat. “Francois has a ponytail, and Al’s never said anything to him.”

“Alain doesn’t have the balls to,” spat Matt, using the French variant of ‘Allen’ to spite Al (even though he wasn’t there). “Even though we’re countries, Oliver and Francois are the closest things to father figures we have. Al’ll never admit it, but Francois scares ‘im shitless – now just cut the Goddamn thing off!”

You whined in the back of your throat as you slowly raised the scissors again. “Once it’s done, it’s done, Matt – you’ll have to wait for it to grow back out –”

“Just…just do it, Maple.” Matt glanced over his shoulder at you, and you could see the silent pleading in his usually unreadable violet eyes. You sighed again, and then gave his shoulder a light squeeze.

“Well,” you muttered, “here goes…”

You tugged on his ponytail, and then began to saw through just above the elastic. You grimaced the whole time, this was killing you inside. You could have screamed when the clump of hair finally came off in your hand. It was like you’d just cut off his finger or his toe. That ponytail was just as much a part of him as they were. 

You stood in front of Matt, dangling his ponytail in front of his face. Awkwardly, he ran his hand through his hair, his face taking on a strange expression as it stopped abruptly at the nape of his neck. You, however, couldn’t stand the haircut.

“Omigod, you look exactly like Matthew…!” you panicked, it wasn’t that you didn’t like Matt’s First Player but – Mathieu was your boyfriend, not Matthew. 

Aside from the beard scruff, the lighter tone of dark blonde, and the darker purple of his irises, Matt was the spitting image of the shy Canadian. The ponytail had always given Matt a certain character to him, which made him look different than Matthew. With the way it pulled his hair back, it gave a little more framing to his face making his cheekbones and squarer jaw more prominent. 

Also, you found he looked a little more badass with the three-inch-long ponytail bobbing at the nape of his neck. Not to mention, since he had long hair, it was a lot more fun to run your hands through and pull during sex (which you had eluded to earlier, but been completely disregarded).

“Are you fucking kidding me?” groaned Matt, his shoulders tensing as he rolled his neck to glower at the ceiling of the manor.

“I – I can always try and cut it shorter. Like Al’s or Oliver’s – if you want,” you suggested, swallowing to try and moisten your dry throat.

Matt slowly lowering his gaze to your form. With another hand through his disconcertingly short hair, the Canadian sighed. “Well, Maple, we’ve already cut it this short – might as well. Can’t go walking around lookin’ like that flapjack, now can I? – Besides, I might get jealous if we fucked while I looked like him.”

Your cheeks filled with heat at his final statement. Matt gave you a smirk, and then you pulled to stand between his legs. With his arms around your middle, he looked up at you. “Now, what’s say we get my hair shorter and then do a test run.”

He chuckled at your increased embarrassment and then released you after kissing you gently. An idea struck you, then. And you ran off to find the electric razor. After digging through three closets, you finally found it. Once back in the kitchen, you put on the longest extension and turned it on. The pulled the razor through most of Matt’s hair, leaving the back and around the sides about an inch long. 

“Just don’t. Cut. The. Curl,” warned Matt as you put away the razor and brought back the scissors. 

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “I know, I know, Mattie. Besides, why would I want to? It’s so much fun to pull.”

A low growl came from Matt at your last sentence, you often used that curl to your advantage. Especially when you thought he was being too soft with you, which Matt made a habit of. Sure, you were his little Maple Leaf but you weren’t delicate. You were an adult after all!

You carefully avoided the curl springing forth from an unknown position in Matt’s scalp as you began to chop away at his remaining long hair. Once it was shorter, you discovered his hair became kind of an unruly wavy. You tried to trim his hair to match the back and left the top and front of his hair about two or three inches long. When you were done, you stood in front of Matt and combed your fingers through to style it. Not too shabby for your first try.

You smiled as you finished and admired your work. Matt ran his hand through it, feeling it. You could tell he found it disconcerting. But you also had to admit, he looked kind of sexy like this. “C’mon, hot stuff, let’s go check out your new do in the mirror.”

Matt chuckled as you tugged on his arm and lead him to the closest powder room. You wouldn’t let him in just yet though and kept the light off. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, now can we get this over with? I have loose hair in my shirt, and it’s driving me crazy,” groaned the blonde, moving his shoulders uncomfortably in his shirt. You laughed and then tugged him into the large room. 

“Annnd, voila!” you cheered, flipping on the light. 

Matt seemed utterly surprised as he stared at the mirror. He glared at first at the man by your side, only to realize that it was himself. Then Matt slowly leaned on the sink bowl, getting closer to his reflection. He ran a hand through his short hair, twirling some of the strands between his fingers. All he muttered was a low ‘wow.’

“So…do you like it?” you asked slowly, leaning your face on Matt’s arm. His eyes went to you in the reflection; he shrugged after a moment.

“It’s s’okay,” he said, there was a slight pout in his voice.

You smiled at him sweetly. “Regretting it?”

His violet eyes went back to staring at his short hair. “Big time. I already can’t wait to be able to put it back in a ponytail.”

  You giggled, running your own hand through it. “Well, it’ll take some getting used to. That’s all – now, we should probably go get that hair out of your shirt.”

Matt did a double-take at you in the mirror as your words sank in. A slow grin appearing on his face. “That’s right. I promised you a test run. Didn’t I, Maple Leaf?”

Before you could blink, you were over the blonde’s shoulder and headed towards his bathroom on the second floor. Thank God everybody else was out for the day.

It wasn’t until later in the evening that you wobbled your way down the stairs, your shaking legs trying to hold you up. That was a lot more than a test run, you mentally noted. You were able to walk halfway correctly by the time you got to the kitchen – Matt didn’t believe in lunch breaks, so you were starving.

“Well, by the looks of it, somebody had some fun today,” teased Al from the breakfast nook, he sat backwards on a chair. You dug through the fridge, rolling your eyes and not even bothering to respond. 

“Allen, be nice,” warned Oliver from his place at the stove. “And [Name], make sure to leave room for dinner.”

You smiled at the strawberry blonde as you took something from the fridge. You placed it on the counter before hauling yourself up on to it. “I know, Ollie.”

“Say, where’s Ponytail?” asked Al abruptly. Francois grunted almost unnoticeably from behind his newspaper, you could tell that he was annoyed by Al’s taunts. – Even if they weren’t aimed at him

“Right here, shit stain,” growled Matt’s voice. You looked over to see Matt with a smirk. He was standing in the entryway rolling up the sleeves on his red flannel.

All was silent as the other three men turned to look at Matt. He casually went over to you, though, and stole some of what you were eating. The blonde leaned against the counter between your legs. 

“Oh my word…” you heard Oliver mutter, nearly dropping what was in his hands. Even Francois moved the paper to raise an eyebrow.

“What the fuck did you do to your hair?” blurted Al, his shit-eating grin entirely gone now as he gawked. 

“I had [Name] cut it for me,” said Matt coolly, shrugging his shoulders. You ran your fingers through Matt’s tiny tendrils and then kissed it.

“I don’t know about you guys,” you started. “But I like Matt’s short hair.”

“I – oh, it is very nice,” said Oliver, quickly composing himself and going back to making dinner. “Just…diff –”

“Ponytail-less,” finished Al as he got up and walked to stand before his brother. 

His crimson eyes scrutinized him for a moment; all Matt did was raise an eyebrow. Al laughed then, giving Matt a crooked smile and showing off his missing tooth. He then ruffled Matt’s hair, which immediately went back into place. Al did this quite a few times. He used to like to mess up Matt’s hair, and take out his hair tie.

“What’s the matter, Alain?” teased Matt, this time it was him giving the shit-eating grin.

“Fuck off, dip shit,” growled Al, his face falling, all sense of teasing gone. With that, Al stalked off – apparently unappreciative of his brother ruining his fun. Moments later you heard a distant door slam shut.

In the midst of it all, you heard Francois make an amused sound and noticed a little smirk as his eyes followed Al out of the room. You two caught eyes and exchanged little flashes of knowing smiles before he raised the paper again. You kissed the side of Matt’s head again before finishing what you were eating. 

So Francey Pants did have the smallest amount of fatherly affection in him towards Matt. Not to mention you’d put a stop to the ponytail taunts, so Francois wasn’t resembled in them anymore. It was just a bonus that it pissed off Al. Honestly, this was going to be fun.

~*~

[zweiginator]

so we all love sub 70s bri.... I present to you college brian discovering his dom side and absolutely pounding you into the mattress

this has been stewing in my mind forEVER

SMUT UNDER THE CUT FOLKS

“Do you have to be so sweet, Bri?” You huffed, running your feet down Brian’s ass as he held your tits carefully, laid on his stomach between your opened legs. He peppered the swell of your breasts in sugary sweet kisses, suckling on your nipples only momentarily from the sheer embarrassment he felt from loving it so much. Hazel eyes tinged with hidden olive tints looked up at you through heavy eyelashes. He was confused. 

“Hmm?” He questioned, the bud of your nipple scraping against his teeth as his eyes flitted upwards. 

A volcanic shiver erupted down the length of your spine, feeling the edge of Brian’s canine scrape your sensitive nipples, pebbled with fresh blood from his ministrations. His eyes were glassy with the beginnings of a cry; he always got emotional when he was horny. He lived for your pleasure, and he would rest on achy knees for the rest of his life if it meant he could lick your clit slowly and watch your legs tremble, eyes rolling back beneath hooded lids. He swore his heart skipped a beat whenever you referred to him as your good boy. That name rewired the circuit of his blood flow, directing it all towards the head of his cock instead of the head on his bony shoulders, where chocolate curls were resting. He would do anything to be your good boy.

“God, just like that,” You moaned, pulling his hair to guide him to your other nipple. A trail of his spit followed his mouth to your other breast. “Use your teeth.”

Brian hummed in agreement as you pulled some frizzy locks of his, freshly washed from his morning shower. He glided his teeth across the bud and looked up at you, desperate for approval. Your clit throbbed at the sight of him so eager to please, his big hands all over your tits as his tongue circled them, wet and hot. 

“Good boy,” You praised, smoothing some tendrils of hair from his forehead to see his eyes fluttering shut, contented hums and sighs vibrating through your body. Wet kisses were planted on your sternum as Brian’s head nuzzled into your neck, where he began to suck saccharine kisses, whimpering as his hips rutted against your pussy. 

“‘M so hard,” He whined, cock pushing against your panty-clad cunt, a beg for friction. 

“Oh baby, I know. I feel how hard you are; you’re throbbing.” You pulled some of Brian’s locks and meshed your lips with his, swiping your tongue across his wet bottom lip, exchanging spit in the most primal kisses you had ever shared. 

And then his mouth was back on your neck, tongue circling irregularly shaped markings he had only recently mustered the courage to make on you. His tongue was delicate, lapping along the skin after each open-mouthed kiss was carefully planted over your throat. But you wanted more. 

“Baby–not like that,” You groaned, pulling his hair to lead his lips to your sweet spot. “You’re not listening to me.” 

Brian’s jaw tensed, forearms rippling as he pushed himself up, deciding to be defiant. “What do you want me to do?” He rolled his eyes, crossing his lanky arms over his flushed chest as he sat against the headboard, looking away from you like a dejected puppy. 

“C’mere.” You crooked your finger to him, straddling his hips. Dirty kisses were exchanged, full of desperation and a toxic tinge of annoyance. Brian’s hands found your ass immediately, making you sigh into his mouth as his tongue pushed into your mouth. Giving your ass a firm slap, he pushed your panties to the side as his other hand yanked your hair back, fingers tapping against your pillowy lips. 

“Open.” 

Those words made a rapid bee-line to your core, emitting a pathetic whimper from your mouth which was now full of Brian’s fingers. 

“Good girl,” He stroked your cheek with his thumb as he pushed spit-soaked fingers into your cunt, the thumb of that hand rubbing against your clit in slow, deliberate circles. “Are you done being a fucking brat?” 

Nodding, you rocked your hips against his fingers, your own fingers digging into his shoulders as you whimpered his name. Brian had ripped the reigns from your trembling hands, and you couldn’t believe the things he was saying when he was being so obedient just minutes before. 

“Use your words,” His hand grasped your jaw, and he gave you a stern look, lips parted. 

“Yes–I--I’m sorry,” You apologized, squeaking as the pads of Brian’s fingers rubbed against your g-spot tenderly. 

His other hand wrapped around your throat tightly, callused fingers rough against the purple marked skin of your neck. 

“Such a slut. I feel your cunt clenching around my fingers from this.” 

Your whimpers were mere squeaks, and you raked your nails down Brian’s forearm as he pulled his fingers from you, sucking them into his mouth eagerly. His eyes were blown with a smolder of desire, peppered with ashes of something intangible. Mischief maybe. Fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, he flipped you over, pushing your head into the pillows so your yelps of pleasure were cradled by the plush of his bed. Brian’s thumb ran through your folds, collecting your arousal as he played with your clit, making your hips jerk, hands fisting the sheets by your head. Soon, hot breaths ghosted over your pussy as Brian knelt behind you, holding your thighs open to lick and suck at your clit. He was hungry, lapping at your folds and sucking your clit hard enough to fizzle your composure into sheer nothingness.

“Fu-fuck Brian,” You whined, pushing yourself against his tongue. Lips wrapped tightly around your clit, he grabbed your arms and bound them together with his strong grip. You could feel your pulse throbbing through your wrists, quickening tenfold as Brian slapped your ass harshly, painted nails digging into the tender skin of your wrists. 

You could feel Brian’s cock twitching against your cunt, his shaft rubbing through your folds lazily. “You’re just begging to be fucked, aren’t you?” His free hand pulled your hair, forcing you to look at him. His hair was mussed, wet from showering and physical exertion. His jaw was tensed, lips parted before he bit them hard, cock pushing into you inch by inch. 

“Fuck me Brian--want you to cum inside me,” You begged, pushing back to meet his thrusts. 

“Want me to fuck you full of my cum?” He held your hips as he bottomed out. You felt him pulse inside of you, warm pre-cum spilling over your walls. 

“Please--please,” You gasped as he gripped your wrists harder, pulling out slowly just to push himself in again. 

“Can you feel that?” He grabbed one of your hands, intertwining your fingers to wrap it around your torso, where his cock was pushing against your lower belly. “Feel how deep I am?”

Nodding, you looked back at him. 

And then he began to slam into you, the head of his cock rubbing against your g-spot until your legs were trembling, hips falling, unable to keep yourself upright. The bed was creaking loudly, metallic springs scraping against each other as his bony hips bruised against your ass. 

He flipped you over again, placing your legs over his shoulders to reach that spot inside of you that made you scream, back arching as your body rocked back and forth from the power of his thrusts.

“Look--” Brian said breathlessly, grabbing your jaw and pushing his thumb into your mouth. “Look at me.” 

Your eyes opened, your hands finding his wrist to hold while you sucked on his thumb, his other fingers stroking your chin sweetly. 

“Good girl.” He gasped, hips stuttering as he felt his orgasm approaching. “Want me to fill you up?” 

Nodding eagerly, you gasped around his thumb as you felt his cum spurt over your walls. 

“Fu-fuck--feels so good. You’re trembling, sweet girl.” He took his thumb from your mouth as his eyes rolled back, ropes of his seed spilling from you. His wet thumb found your clit, pushing you over the edge with two lazy circles. 

Your back arched as you came, holding Brian’s fingers around your throat as he fucked you through your orgasm. You couldn’t believe how hard you were cumming; your moans were unrestrained, spilling from your lips, choked but barely enough to render them anything less than loud. 

“Fuck Bri--Brian!” Your eyes rolled back, legs shaking over Brian’s shoulders as he kept rubbing you through your orgasm. You were completely at his mercy, when usually it was the other way around. 

You whimpered as he pulled out, watching his cum spill onto the sheets below you. 

“Jesus Christ, Brian.” You caught your breath, resting on your elbows as Brian cleaned you with a wet cloth, kissing your stomach sweetly. 

“Was I okay?” 

“You were more than okay, baby.” You cooed. “Didn’t know you had it in you.” 

“You’d be surprised what I can do, sweetheart.” He stroked your cheek with his thumb, pulling a t-shirt over his head. 

And then the sweet, anxious Brian was back as he pulled you from the bed, removing the soaked sheets. 

“I hope these aren’t ruined.” He commented, assessing the stains. “Wanna help me wash them? My mum will kill me if I ask her for new sheets.” 

[k00kie-krumbl3]

Lipstick Stains & Bruises

{Jimin’s POV}

        Walking back upstairs, I tried to open the door only to realize it’s locked. “What are you doing Jimin?” Eliza asked, making me jump up in fright as I wasn’t expecting her.

“Sorry you scared me, I thought the bathroom was here, guess someone is already using it,” I lied, giving her a nervous laughter.

“Oh the bathroom is right here,” she said pointing at the bathroom on my right.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, thanking her as she soon left, looking at my phone I felt silly to think that (y/n) would actually want to hang out with me. I mean she made it very clear that she didn’t do friends.

Sighing, I soon walked back into the party, laughing at crazy antics that Jungkook did or talking to Eliza and Taehyung. Yet, I couldn’t stop glancing up at the stair case every once in awhile. Hoping that (y/n) will come down at least once.

——————

{Y/n’s POV}

“Huh? So the vampire finally decides to show up I see?” Allen chuckled humorlessly,

“Listen I already had to deal with Elaine’s shit. I don’t want to deal with yours,” I stated, soon sitting down next to Allen.

        Allen was Elaine’s ex boyfriend. After she met Hoseok, her feelings towards Allen changed. She was more bitchy, more conservative, and less affectionate. Allen grew tired of it and they began to fight. To the point that Elaine broke up with him. Telling him that it’s all his fault and that if he paid more attention to her and less to me that they will still be together. Of course that was a lie, Allen and I are just friends and even if I were to have a crush on him, it wouldn’t have mattered because Elaine’s well Elaine. She will take whatever she wants, by any means necessary, even if it results in her younger sister’s pain.

“Why didn’t I date you?” Allen asked, puffing out smoke from his cigarette.

“Probably because you fell under the spell of the wicked witch of the west. Ignoring my warnings and getting hurt in the end,” I told him, making him nudge me as I bursted out in giggles.

“Hey make yourself at home kid. You know where the beers are at,” he smirked, taking another drag of his cigarette.

        “Nah I’m good. Where’s Ollie by the way?” I asked him, Oliver was his step brother. A big contrast to Allen who was more dark and gloomy, Oliver was more bubbly and cheerful, not a big surprise if Jimin and him were to become friends to be honest.

Soon realizing who I was thinking about, I quickly began to choke on my own spit. Allen quickly getting up and heading over to me,

“You good doll face?”

“Jimin?!” I asked myself, Allen giving me a confused face only to smirk.

        “No way! No fucking way! You caught feelings for someone! Fucking finally! You’ve been moping about that Jae loser for months now,” Allen chuckled, only for me to glare at him as I kicked him in the shin, making him double over in pain.

“Shut up!” I growled, heading over to the kitchen, getting myself a can of coke.

        Walking back, I soon saw Matt walk in, curly dirty blonde hair structuring his blue eyes that looked almost purple and plaid red shirt which was a bit ripped on the sides. His jeans ripped in some parts and dusty brown boots making imprints on the floor boards.

“Mattie!” I exclaimed, hugging him as he chuckled and began to ruffle up my hair.

“Hey kiddo! Long time, no see! The evil twins got you all down?” he asked.

        Here’s the thing between Matt and Al. Matt dated my sister Eliza, Eliza is more of a sweetheart but with Elaine she is still a sweetheart but also two-faced. Aka she will stab you in the back. Let’s just say she also joined in on the cheating wagon.

“Something like that,” I replied,

“Pssh. As if. When you called me I could barely make out half the words you were saying!” Allen called out.

“Literally Allen shut up,” Matt gruffed, flicking the side of Allen’s head making him whimper out.

        It truly is funny, the difference between the two as Allen had instead of curly dirty blonde hair, he had mahogany brown hair, with brown eyes that when reflected at a certain angle looked a bit reddish. He wore a skin tight tank top with a burgundy bomber jacket and dirty ripped blue jeans with red converse shoes. They really didn’t look like siblings. If anything, I looked more related to Allen then Matt or Oliver combined.

“Hey doll! Who’s Jimin?” He drawled, red orbs staring me down, as I felt my eye twitch.

“Oh chick-a-dee found a lover?” Matt smirked,

“What?! Oh goodness! Oh goodness! You finally found someone! Oh (y/n) that’s wonderful news!” Oliver exclaimed, dropping the bags he had on the floor as he came over to the table I was currently sitting at and hugged me.

        For someone who looks small and scrawny, he had a death grip when it came to hugs. Giggling at his excitement, I soon pouted as I told him that I didn’t find someone and that I don’t have a crush on anyone, glaring at Allen for the false accusation.

        Oliver soon nodded his head, baby blue eyes almost glowing in understanding, soon looking at his blonde hair I realized it was now a pinkish blonde.

“Oh my gosh! You dyed your hair!” I called out, making him chuckle.

“Yup did it a few months ago. Ah~ but sadly the color is coming back,” he sighed, chuckling at my shocked state.

“I really wasn’t expecting that,” I told him, “honestly I thought Allen would dye his hair,” I exclaimed.

“I am not going to let my hair die!” He stated,

“You mean damage you dimwit? Your hair is already dead,” Matt corrected, rolling his eyes.

Chuckling at the duo, I felt my phone buzz. Looking down I saw Hoseok just texted me.

[7:35pm] From Hobi: Hey where are you?

[7:36pm] From (y/n): Hey! I’m at Al’s. The wicked-

        Soon realizing I was about to call his girlfriend the wicked witch of the west, I quickly deleted the saying, chuckling to myself. Allen perked up and looked at me, before he can ask I told him what happened, instead of seeing him laugh along with me he gave me a glare or really my phone a glare before looking back at the blank tv screen.

‘Someone’s still salty,’ I thought, soon finishing my text to Hobi.

[7:36pm] From (y/n): Hey! I’m at Al’s. Elaine and I had a fight and I needed to escape for a bit. I’ll need a ride though! Think you can get me?

        Getting up, I grabbed the controller and put on Netflix. Watching the latest shows, I felt my phone buzz again. Unlocking it I read Hoseok’s message.

[7:38pm] From Hobi: Sorry sweetheart. El and I are going out after dinner. Jimin offered to pick you up though, should be getting a text from him any minute now.

As soon as I read the last sentence, a new message with an unknown number popped up, the message read “Hey (y/n), this is Jimin.”

Groaning, I looked up to see Allen with a wide smirk, “I see this Jimin guy gets to pick you up, huh?” He smiled.

Whining, I pouted as I looked at Allen. “Why can’t you just drop me off?” I asked him.

        Staring at me in all seriousness he began to put his finger pointer up, “one, don’t want to see your sister,” putting up his middle he continued, “two, don’t want drama to occur,” putting up his ring finger, he soon closed his eyes and looked back at me with a small smile. Of pity. Of apology. Of hurt. “And three, I don’t want to see him.”

        Nodding my head in understanding, I quickly replied to Jimin’s text telling him where I’m at and soon texting Hobi telling him thanks but that out of everyone he had to choose Jimin.

——————

{Jimin’s POV}

        Pulling up at the driveway that (y/n) sent me. I couldn’t help but to feel nervous. The neighborhood already looked a bit scary, looking over at the house, I soon saw (y/n)’s head pop out of the door frame, a boy with blondish pink and blue eyes with freckles spread all around his face, also looking outside.

        Putting down the passenger window, I gave her a little wave. She waved back only to glare at the person who was supposedly behind her. She looked back at me and motioned for me to come inside. Gulping, I turned off the car and ran over towards the steps. Once entering, I greeted each person, Allen, was the one with ruby eyes, the one with baby blue eyes was Oliver and the last person with violet eyes was Matthew. Matt for short.

“So how did you guys become friends?” Al asked, a sinister smile spreading across his face.

        “Are you serious? Allen I already told you,” (y/n) groaned, face palming, only for me to soon realize that they were talking about me, I gave her a playful smile.

“So you were talking about me?” I asked, only for her to give me a cold stare, I felt a shiver go down my spine as I mumbled a soft apology.

        “It’s not like that. It’s just- there were problems concerning your dear friend Elaine and Eliza but I don’t want to get into the gory details. Don’t want to mess up their “image”” (y/n) said, using air quotes around the word image.

        As she began to say bye to everyone, Oliver pulled me off to the side. “Please take care of her. I know she’s a bit closed off and she doesn’t have many friends, except well us. She really needs someone who can at least show some type of emotion. When she talks about you her eyes brighten up. She doesn’t know it yet but I have a feeling her meeting you, is the best thing that has ever happened to her,” the blue-eyed male exclaimed.

“I thought she doesn’t do friends?” I asked him,

        “Oh don’t get me wrong. It takes a long time to get her to open up but before she became this closed off person she- actually you remind me of her. How she used to be at least. She was happy and a free soul, she always found the good in people and was very open. But then something just killed that light or really someone. This is her go to place, away from her siblings when she’s hurt. To be honest, she feels more like our family than a friend. So I’m just telling you this as a warning but please don’t hurt her. She already deals with a lot of stuff at home and at school. I just want what’s best for her.” Oliver told me. A gloomy look in his once cheerful eyes. Nodding my head, he squeezed my hand in gratitude and waved goodbye as I walked over to the door, (y/n) looking at me before giving me a small smile.

~~~~~~

        Driving back to her place was awfully quiet, an awkward tension in the air.

“So what did Ollie tell you?” (Y/n) asked,

“He was um... just telling me that it’s nice to know that you’ve made a friend,” I said, shortening up the conversation we actually had.

        “That was a long conversation for him to just be saying ‘thanks for being (y/n)’s friend,’” she snorted, looking over at me, her elbow was resting against the glass and her head was laying down on her elbow. So her eyes looked more cat-like but also gave her a cute appearance.

        “I don’t know if I should say, it wasn’t anything bad. I rather you ask him then me,” I told her, giving her an apologetic smile. Nodding her head, she looked out, “you know, I can’t help but find it odd how we keep on meeting. Maybe it’s fate,” she giggled.

“You believe in fate?” I asked her, slightly astonished by this information.

        “Why yes I do. I know, right? Quiet, brooding girl who hates the world actually believes in fate? How odd?” She mocked, looking at me with a goofy grin. “I mean I wasn’t always like this. Honestly, you remind me of how I used to be. I just hope no one messes up that care-free spirit of yours. That has to be one thing I truly do like about you, Pinky.”

        Blushing at her compliment, I wanted to ask her what happened. What made her become who she is now. Who made her lose that spirit? But I couldn’t because we soon pulled up to her house. Opening the car door, she thanked me and told me she’ll see me at Chem class. Waving bye, I waited until I could no longer see her figure.

••••••••

{Y/n’s POV}

        Alarm going off, I quickly got out of bed and got ready. Everything was as it should be. Once going downstairs to pack up my lunch, I felt my phone buzz. Face furrowing in confusion, I pulled it out to see Jimin has texted.

“Wanna ride?” It read.

About to reply ‘sure’, Elaine came out of her room, tears streaming down her face.

“What’s wrong” I asked, expecting some snarky comment, she whipped out her phone to show me the text.

[9:38pm] From Baby: I’m sorry Elaine.

[9:39pm] From Elaine: What did I do wrong? We were good Hobi! Baby... please!

[9:40pm] From Baby: You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just not happy. The love dwindled and I’ve been watching you ogle at Jungkook multiple times. You’ve been more distant and I just don’t think this will work out anymore.

[9:41pm] From Elaine: I get it we broke up. But why?

[9:42pm] From Baby: We’ll talk about this tmr... okay?

        “I-I’m so sorry,” I told Elaine, looking up at her, she glared at me. “This is your fault you stupid bitch,” she seethed, grabbing her phone and hitting me across the face with it. Falling down from the sting, I looked up at her, unshedded tears forming in my eyes.

“How the hell is this my fault?!” I accused,

“You ran off. God Hobi’s always your little hero so no doubt he’s breaking it off so he can be with you,” she sneered.

        “Or maybe it’s because you suck at being a good, older sister! Ever think of that! God not everything is about you!” I yelled at Elaine, grabbing my stuff and going into my car, driving off to school.

~~~~

        Before exiting out of my car, I looked over at the side of my cheek and saw the red markfrom Elaine's phone begin to bruise up, lifting up my hoodie. I soon exited out, walking over to my locker, I saw Jimin and his group of friends huddled up, Elaine and Eliza not there yet, neither was Hoseok or Namjoon.

“Jimin? Can I talk to you?” I asked him.

Turning around, he nodded his head, as we parted from the group, I asked him how he feels about Eliza.

“She’s a good friend... I guess?” He shrugged,

        “If you date her just be careful please. Same thing with Elaine. They aren’t in a good mood,” I told him, about to walk away, he quickly grabbed my wrist.

“Hey! (Y/n) what’s that on your cheek?” He asked,

        “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it,” I told him only for him to pull me closer, taking my hoodie off he examined the bruised up cheek.

“Did one of them do this to you?” He gruffed, his usual happy and care free aura gone.

“It really doesn’t matter,” I told him.

“Stop lying!” He hissed,

“It... Elaine did it. She was mad because Hobi broke up with her and blamed me. It’s okay, though! I don’t nee-“

        “This isn’t okay (y/n). I don’t care if it’s out of anger or what? She can’t do this to you. Come on, we’re going to the nurse’s office,” he stated. No room for excuses as he pulled me with him.

~~~~~

        Once we reached the nurse’s office. Dr. Kim began to look over at the bruise. “Ice will definitely help with the swelling. What happened?” He asked,

“I dropped my phone and it hit me against the cheek,” I lied,

“...well this is a very big bruise just from your phone falling on your face,” he exclaimed.

“I bruise easily,” I retorted.

“Is there something you want to tell me Ms. (l/n)?” He asked, placing a bag of ice, wrapped around with paper towels onto my bruised cheek.

“Nope. Nothing. Thank you Dr. Kim,” I told him, quickly leaving the nurse’s office. Not realizing that Jimin wasn’t in tow.

————

{Jimin’s POV}

“She was lying, wasn’t she?” Dr. Kim asked,

“She was Jin-hyung,” I told him. Jin was the step brother of Jungkook. Looking up at him, he nodded in understanding.

“Her parents?” Jin asked,

“Sister,” I answered. “Ah~ She really is cold,” I sighed, looking at Jin.

“And I see she has found a way to capture your heart,” he chuckled,

“She intrigues me. I want to know more about her,” I told Jin honestly,

        “Curiosity, hm? Well, be careful. Don’t want you to be making rash decisions now,” Jin chuckled, as I soon left his office waving him a quick goodbye, I ran over to Chem class. When I reached it I saw (y/n) sitting in her usual seat, except where I usually sit there was a bag there, pouting I was about to head to the front until I saw (y/n) grab the bag and put it down, still not looking at me but I could see a small smile form up.

        Smiling, I quickly took my seat. “Thanks,” I whispered. “No problem, Pinky,” she replied, twirling a strand of my hair before zoning in on the lecture as Mr. Choi walked in.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N: I decided to do a double update since I didn’t update last time.

Previous: Promises, Promises, Baby Blues Next: Tell Me Lies

[okimargarvez]

DON’T TOUCH MY GLASSES

Original title: Don’t touch my glasses.

Prompt: thing forbidden in a relationship.

Warning: none.

Genre: comic, comedy, romantic.

Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: part 44 in Garvez canon Life. 

Legend: 💑😘😈.

Song mentioned: none.

I dedicate this story to all those who, every day, has the same problems, like me. Others don’t understand.

GARVEZ STORIES

DON’T TOUCH MY GLASSES

 In a couple there are many unwritten rules, learned by heart by trial and error. For example, there may be areas of the body that are inaccessible even for your partner. Many women hate that they touch their hair or have a built-in timer that times the minimum amount of time available to caress them.

This is not the case of Penelope, fortunately for Luke, who loves to play with her hair, which for him is a fundamental part of his girlfriend's body, an instrument of great seduction.

But it is another, the prohibition that exists between them.

Penelope doesn’t get angry almost never. The times when he saw her really pissed off, in five years that they know each other, can be counted on the fingers of one hand. And talking with the group, it was immediately clear that it is not a feeling that belongs to her. But there is a very simple way to make her sweet face turns red, including ears, with a lot of smoke coming out of them.

Just touch her glasses. In the early days, for the first few months, he was allowed to, because taking off her glasses was part of the foreplay ritual, to be able to wander more freely with his hands, between her face and her hair, precisely.

But as the time passed, that kind of passion calms down, the truth comes out.

The watershed takes place one night, returning from a case. They've been together for almost six months. Luke is tired, but to be able to sleep he needs to get rid of the adrenaline that always accompanies the conclusion of a case. It's a short flight, just under two hours. Despite this, Penelope collapsed on the sofa, still fully dressed and not even Roxy's yelps wake her up. Regardless of sleep and frenzy, he remains for a while to contemplate her, as if it were one of the paintings he doesn’t understand.

Finally, he revives himself and decides that it is time to act and remedy. First of all, he takes off her glasses, in this case the ones with the green frame. He doesn’t beware at all to be careful of the part from which to grasp them, he just removes them from the middle. Then he slowly pulls down the zipper of her dress, and as he bent over her, he feels his face grabbed and less than a second later she is kissing him.

-Love- Penelope moans, without taking his lips from hers. Her eyes are half closed.

-Babe…- he says with the same labored tone, placing the right hand on the nape.

-What were you trying to do?- she asks him, pointing with the hand at her dress, half sagging.

Luke chuckles, guiltily and shifts his attention to her neck. -I took advantage of the sleeping beauty in the living room...- he adds, feeling her writhing under him.

-This sleeping beauty would need a back massage. Your sofa is really terribly uncomfortable!- the man doesn’t wait too much and takes her to a bed with beige hues. They start kissing again, they lose in each other's arms.

A few minutes later, while trying to find the willpower necessary to wear something at least like a pajamas, Penelope's phone begins to vibrate. -No, please, tell me that there is no new case, not now.- Luke moans.

-I would gladly say this, if I saw something.- she replies, searching something blindly on the bedside table on her side of the bed. -Where did you put my glasses?- she asks in a voice that is still quite calm.

-I don’t remember, I think they stayed in the living room.- he replies, unaware of the storm that is about to break down.

-You believe?- patience begins to run out. -Luke, honey, go see now. I don’t care if it is a text from the BAU that warns us that a case has arrived or just damn spam. I want my glasses, NOW!- she clenches her teeth, trying to contain herself, but she hates to see everything out of focus, Luke is a stain of black-pink, black, much more pink, shades of olive, and he is completely naked... and she gets lost this show because he took from her father all the visual defects that one could hypothesize.

He hurries to obey her, surprised by her authoritative tone, and yet, poor guy, he thinks once again she is charming and sexy. It takes a good five minutes to locate the desired object and at the end, he finds them on the same table, in front of the sofa, exactly where he had laid them an hour ago. He comes back to the room convinced that he will get a kiss as a thank you. But he is about to find out how wrong he is.

-You took your time.- says Penelope, snatching them out of his hands and wearing them with satisfied expression. That lasts very little, because the face takes on shades between red and purple, certainly not for embarrassment. She removes them with both hands, contemplates them and then sighs. -Why, Luke, tell me why you did it.- it doesn’t sound like a question.

-What?- he asks her, however, unaware and innocent.

She puts a hand on her forehead, and he notices that she is sweating. -It's so obvious that you've never had to wear glasses in your life, not even the standard ones for reading.- says Penelope, disappointed. -Come closer. I will not kill you, if you hurry up.- after a little hesitation, he reaches her. -Look. Look at the lenses. What do you see?- she sticks them in front of his nose and almost puts one of the temples in his eye.

-Well, they are... a bit dirty.- he ventures to say.

-Dirty?- she repeats, with a bitter laugh that remains in her throat. -The windows in your car are a little dirty. The lenses of my glasses have now become a forensic test. The fingerprints are so clear that those of CSI wouldn’t even need to use one of their gadgets, to make comparison.- he doesn’t say anything, she even pierces him without seeing it in a definite way, then gets up and reaches the bathroom. She closes the door, he hears the flow of water. When she emerges she wears glasses again.

-Pen, I didn’t want to... I didn’t think...- he tries to justify himself soon as he sees her coming back.

-You said well, you didn’t think. Can you put yourself in the role of serial killers, but not in those of your mole-girl?- she doesn’t let him answer. -Only those who have visual defects like mine can understand certain things. There is nothing more odious than looking through the ridges and valleys of someone's finger, even if it belongs to the love of your life.- she doesn’t pay attention to the spontaneous declaration that came out. -For this reason, from now, it's absolutely forbidden for you to touch any of my thousand’s pairs of glasses. Except if I will grant you the honor, and only in very rare circumstances.- she says.

-Good, love, I can do it.- he sighs. -What the text said?- he asks, then.

-Nothing important. Phil and Sam have forgotten the time zone again.-

TAGS: @theshamelessmanatee  @arses21434 @kathy5654 @martinab26 @reidskitty13 @jenf42 @gracieeelizabeth27 @silviajajaja @smalliemichelle99 @charchampagne14 @thinitta   @myhollyhanna23 @garvezz @mercedes-maldonado  @shyladystudentfan

[ageeksnerdyworld]

Know My Weakness

Characters: Khalid Asfour and Kairo Asfour 

Word Count: 3, 805

Trigger Warning: Death Mention, Violence

Notes: Another backstory. I’ve finally realized that writing things phonetically makes things better because the text alignment of Tumblr posts totally flips Arabic so it turns into nonsense. And as always The Cyber World and the viruses therein belong to @voiceoflarka

Summary: Kairo Asfour is determined to put his past behind him. To prove that he's better than who he used to be. And that all begins with saving his son. Click that read more if you’d like.

~~~

Kairo Asfour woke up before the sun rose. He didn't even think twice about it as it was an old habit he’d kept for longer than not. He sits up on the thin mattress and laces his fingers in one another. Cracking his knuckles he stretches his arms behind his back. With a light yawn he rubs his chin. The scratching sound tells him that his beard that has gotten fuller than he realized. Rubbing a hand over his face he fully shakes off the last throngs of sleep from his body. He pulls the thin blanket off and steps onto the cool, sandy, ground.

He crosses the short distance to the small wooden table that sits on the right side of the tent's interior.

He kneels on the ground and pulls a dust colored canvas bag out from under the table. Untying the brown leather cord that seals the bag he shoves a hand inside. Blindly searching in the dark of early morning he removes a couple articles of clothing from inside. He quickly changes into a pair of thin, cream colored, pants; deep pockets on either side. Tossing the dirty pair into a nearby wicker basket, which is fuller than he realized, he makes a mental note to do the washing soon. Hooking his fingers under the cloth he starts to peel the olive green shirt off his chest.

The shirt is halfway off when his long, tan, fingers graze a scar.

He freezes for just a second.

Kairo ultimately pulls the shirt off and looks down at his abdomen. Honey colored veins map the surface of his skin; lining his muscles and accentuating their definition. But the deeply indented scar breaks his carefully toned form. It remains as a constant reminder of his past.

Of his foolish mistakes.

The scar itself runs along his right side; curling around his back. It stops just above his right hip. Running his fingers along he winces at the memory of the pain he felt when the wound was inflicted.

He remembers the man’s sharp, angry, yellow eyes shining in the dark of night. The way the tiger virus gritted his teeth as he dragged the blade through Kairo's skin. The deep honey color of his own soul residue as it poured from the gash in his flesh. He also remembers the man’s soul residue as it leaked from the fatal wound; coloring his outfit a dark green. He remembers the light, and life, draining from the attacker's eyes.

Years, maybe even decades, have passed between then and now. Despite that the scar glows brighter than the rest of his veins.

Once his mind is back in the present Kairo shakes his head and blinks. He quickly puts on a deep navy short-sleeved t-shirt. Letting out a light sigh he pushes the small bag back under the table. Rising to his feet he turns back to where his minimal bed lay.

His dark brown, almost black, eyes pass over his mattress and look to the one that lies next to it.

A small, tan skinned, boy lays curled up under a blanket. His tiny fingers poke out of the dark cloth. His hair is a mess; sticking out at the oddest angles. The boy’s face was peaceful and innocent. His chest slowly raises and falls with deep slumber.

Kairo almost doesn't want to wake his son.

Did you really think you could leave your true self behind? Move on and do something good with whatever time you have left? You're a fool, Hisada. You'll never really change and he will pay the price.

The voice of his conscious mocks him. And in the deepest caverns of his heart Kairo agrees.

Tiptoeing to the side of his son's bed he crouches next to him. A smile forms as he watches his son sleep. Reaching out he brings a hand to the boy's head. Softly stroking the boy's dark hair he whispers quietly.

"Come on, meherya. You cannot sleep the day away."

"La baba," the boy says with a tired groan. He turns away from his father's touch.

Kairo pulls the blanket off the boy and grabs his shoulder. He gently lifts his son into a sitting position. The boy's eyes blink slowly. His mouth opens wide as he lets out a long yawn. Kairo leaves the boy's side to fetch him a change of clothes.

"I'm tired baba," he says.

Kairo nods; "I know, Khalid, I know. But there is work to do."

He passes the clothes to the boy and tells him to get dressed. The child nods and Kairo slips on a pair of sandals. He reminds Khalid that he will be just outside. As he leaves a ray of early morning sunlight glinting of a metal surface catches his eye. But Kairo ignores it and steps out into the early day.

The air is crisp and cold.

He looks out into the desert; watching the sun slowly rise over the sand. Coloring the dark sky in oranges, purples, and pinks the sight is breathtaking. He shifts his gaze to the right but remains still. Then he turns his eyes to the left. No one can be seen for miles in either direction.

Even though he knew they were completely alone he remains vigilant.

"Pretty," a small voice calls from behind him.

Kairo turns around to see his son staring wide eyed at the sky. The sunlight shines off the boy's face; lightening his tan skin. His mouth is open in a wide toothy grin of childlike wonder.

Kairo reminds himself that this, his son's innocence, is why he has to do what he has planned.

But, he says to himself, it can wait.

He takes his son by the hand and leads the boy to a large boulder that shields their tent from the harsh desert winds. He lifts the boy on the top of the boulder. Patting his son's hand he ensures that Khalid is steady before climbing up himself. Once they're sitting side by side Khalid curls up to his father. Kairo puts an arm around his son and pulls him close.

Together they watch the sun rise.

After they head back into the tent. Kairo gathers a few things. Khalid helps by carrying two plates as carefully as he can. Father and son make a small fire together a few yards away from their tent. When the fire is going Kairo carefully sets a rack over the flame and puts a pan on the rack. He makes sure his son is far enough to not get burnt accidentally but close enough for him to keep an eye. Kairo makes eggs with feta cheese.

He calls Khalid over as he plates the eggs.

Reminding the boy to be careful, because the eggs are very hot, he takes out a thick pita out of a bag by his feet. Ripping it in half he then rips one half into halves again. Handing the young sprite a fourth of the pita he takes a fourth for himself. Returning the uneaten pita to the bag he ties it closed before he begins eating.

His conscious whispers sinisterly; Time is not on our side. Don't you dare pretend that it's alright.

That was the last thing she ever said to him. And in the end she was right. The words bring on a wave of memories he can't stop. He stares off, chewing mindlessly, past his son and into the empty desert.

The vision, the memory, of his wife blossoms in his mind's eye. Meherya Nucati was still as beautiful as the day they met. Her smile is even brighter, and more soothing, in his memory. She was the light of his life in those days. A pleasant presence that cut through the dark and harsh reality he lived in. It was impossible to hide the truth of his work from her. She was far too smart to actually believe his lies. And then there was the reason they had met in the first place.

Her mother hired Kairo to kill her.

And Meherya paid the ultimate price in the end. She knew that trying to hide out was pointless. The organization that was after Kairo would find him eventually and they wouldn't stop until they did. They would send droves assassins just like him if they had to. But he was too stubborn, too confident in his own abilities, to take her fears into consideration.

She was murdered right next to him and he couldn't stop it.

It had been three years since then but the memory was as clear as the sunrise.

That day she wasn't feeling well so she stayed home from work. Even with her nose red, skin pale, and hair messy Meherya was still the most beautiful person he ever met. He insisted that she stay in bed. He could handle taking care of her and Khalid until she was better. It was going to be fine.

They barely made it through the morning when it happened. Kairo was in the kitchen, with the baby on his hip, making breakfast. He softly sang one of Meherya's favorite songs to the boy. When breakfast was ready he carefully carried a plate to their bedroom. He pushed the door open with his hip. Stepping into the room what he saw made him drop the plate of food in shock.

Meherya lay on the floor slumped against the left side of the bed.

Her hair was matted against the right side of her head; stuck there with soul residue. The clothes she wore were now stained a light mint green from the slash across her throat. That mint green color was entirely gone from her veins which were now dark black. Her eyes and mouth were still open so it seemed she had some final thoughts for her killer. Kairo now realized that she wasn't sick. She had been poisoned.

Only the poison didn't take the way it should have, it seemed. That’s why his wife was brutally slain in their marital bed. Kario knew that the fact of killing her where they lived, ate and slept together, was a message. A message that was clearer than it ever would have been. As he turned Khalid away, and knelt down to close Meherya’s eyes, that message rang through his mind. It played like a broken record; repeating over and over.

You failed. You tried to protect them and you failed. You’re not safe here.

Their son was barely even two.

Kairo owed it to his wife, and her memory, to save his son from his past.

He thought about all of this as they cleaned up. Taking the dishes and the laundry to the nearest water source Kairo remained silent. He could feel his young son's curious eye on him as they walked. His mind was still on the daunting task at hand. He didn't save Meherya and he needed to change that.

He would start today.

No more holding back.

Kairo didn't say anything until they were back at the tent. Together father and son began to hang the laundry on a thin wire that ran from the tent to a pole a few feet away. The wind was calm for the moment so they didn't have to struggle against it. While his son was attaching clothespins to a sheet Kairo ducked inside the tent. When he returned he had two wooden scimitars in his hands. He set them down quickly and rushed to help finish hanging the laundry.

When that was done Kairo knelt down so that he was eye level with Khalid.

He firmly placed his hands on the boy's shoulders. But when he started to speak he found that his voice faltered. Khalid asked him if he was okay and Kairo smiled; squeezing his shoulder just a bit harder than before.

"I'm going to teach you how to protect yourself," he said when his voice came back to him.

The young boy's eyes went wide with excitement. A beaming smile painted his face.

"You think I'm ready?"

Kairo shrugged as he picked up the scimitars. He told his son that there was no time like the present. It was better for him to learn now rather than wish he had.

Without warning he swung one of the wooden swords at his son. Khalid quickly ducked out of the way; truly afraid. Kairo praised him and then attacked again. But this time he swung with both scimitars. He raised one high in the air while swinging the other low. Khalid moved out of the way of the overhand attack but wasn't prepared for the other. He fell on his back as his legs were swept out from under him.

Kairo helped his son to his feet and fixed the boy's stance before going back into the impromptu training session. The fourth time the boy fell Kairo harshly shouted at him to take this seriously. His survival would depend on this.

"People do not like what they do not understand. And most of those people try to destroy what they don't understand."

"What do you mean, baba?"

"They don't understand that people can change. There are many things I have done in the past that others do not forgive. If they need to they will hunt you to get to me."

Kairo Asfour closes his eyes and hangs his head in shame. The wooden scimitars go lack at his sides. His stance relaxes; fully losing the defense. Khalid senses that his father has darker secrets than what he already knows. Darkness that has shaped him into the man he is today.

That forced him into a life of hiding.

"You're not like that anymore," Khalid says with tears in his eyes.

"They do not see it that way, habibi," his father says; regret ringing through his voice.

"Now, get up," he commands the harsh cruelty returning to his voice.

The young boy doesn't hesitate. He quickly scrambles to his feet and readying himself. Holding both hands, tightly clenches into fists, in front of his chest he was prepared for the next attack. His eyes narrow and he clenches his jaw.

~~~

Khalid wakes up the next morning being harshly poked in the shoulder. The object feels round and hard and cold against his skin. It jolts him awake and he opens his eyes to the deep darkness of early morning. Or maybe it was the middle of the night? He couldn't know for sure it was too dark. So dark that he could barely make out the silhouette of someone standing next to him.

All he can really see is the faint glow of the virus's latte brown veins.

A muffled voice harshly says; "Move it, kid."

Afraid and confused the boy scrambles to his feet. The muffled voice orders him to move again. He hesitates and is once again pushed by the strange cold object as its shoved into his back. Khalid exits the tent with the stranger behind.

Stepping out into the dark desert his eyes are now adjusting to the night.

He sees five more viruses; all with faces covered by balaclavas and masks. One is standing alone as if waiting for something. The other four are surrounding his father. Two are holding his arms back while another seemingly ties him up. One of which has a knife to his throat. The blade surprisingly shines, from the glow of the viruses' veins, in the dark. Before he can cry out Khalid is harshly shoved to the ground in front of the lone masked figure.

His hand hits a sharp rock and a cut forms on his palm.

A bit of his salmon colored soul, bright in the stark black of night, starts to come to the surface.

"Found this one asleep in the tent," the voice behind Khalid says.

"Interesting," the figure replies.

The man kneels down and harshly grabs the boy's chin. Digging his fingers into Khalid's skin he narrows his eyes; glaring. He shoves the young sprite's face to the side and surveys the boy's expression. Khalid quietly winces in pain; trying not to show it. The man’s mouth curls in disgust and looks up at Kairo. Their eyes lock and his expression shifts into a devilish grin.

"I had no idea you were a family man, Hisada. That seems highly contradictory to your line of work."

With that he forcibly shoves Khalid's face to the ground and crosses to the others.

"Look, whoever you are, your fight is with me. Not him. Leave the boy."

“Oh, believe me, you deserve way worse. But, this is the only way to really hurt you,” the man says as he pulls his balaclava off his face.

His hair is cut short, eyes are dark, and his face is clean shaven. Everything about his physical appearance is virtually perfect. He looks young, serious, and very proud of himself. A dark smile forms on his lips as his hand reaches up once again. His fingers run through something invisible and the edge of his jaw glimmers and shines.

The man’s fingertips cut through the image as he reaches for his ear. The gloved fingers curl around the back of his ear and pull away with a small device. It’s gray in color and shaped like a hearing aid but much more flat. A small circular light shines on the tip of the device; flashing red.

Kairo nods, slightly impressed, knowing exactly what the device is.

The man’s real skin is a bright white. Mauve colored veins crawl all over his neck. A few veins poke out from under the black finger-less gloves. Short cropped, army-style, silver hair blends into his skin at the base of his skull. Dark, brooding anger, clouds his moss green eyes. But that proud smile still curls the edges of his mouth.

“Paul? Paul Saakar?”

“Long time no see,” he says.

“Leave my son alone,” Kairo replies threateningly.

Saakar ignores him; “You thought you were finished with us when you killed my father, but, that was just the beginning. I took up my father’s position.”

He rolls up the sleeve of his left arm; revealing the underside of his forearm. A silver inked tattoo colors his white skin. In Kairo’s memory there was just a viper curled around a skull. But now a crown hovers above the head of the snake; the mark of the guild’s leader.

“I lead the Vicious Vipers and you know what exactly happens to anyone who crosses me. Did you really think I’d let that go? I’ve spent the last two years following your trail and I do have to say you are a hard man to find, Hisada.”

Kairo sighs and hangs his head.

“You found me,” he says. “Do what you want but, please, leave him be.”

“The Vicious Vipers will never be defeated. Cut off one head.”

“Isn’t that hydra?”

Paul Sakkar ignores Kairo’s comment once again; “You took the most important person in the world from me. It’s about time I return the favor. You’ve killed your last victim, Hisada.”

He turns his head to the man who stands over Khalid. The man holds the boy down; a knee shoved into the kid’s back. The muzzle of his pistol is up against his leg.

The leader of the assassins gives the man a slight nod. 

The man shoots the boy in the leg. The bullet enters through the front, creating a hole on impact, and exits through the back. Small, fracture like, cracks explode at all angles from both wounds. Soul residue begins to slowly seep from the wound. Khalid screams as the bullet enters and then again seconds later when it exits.

He grits his teeth against the pain.

Without hesitating Kairo frees himself from the grip of the two men. Slamming their heads together he knocks them out. Twisting the other man’s wrist he forces the knife out of his hand. Brandishing the knife Kairo rushes Saakar. In response to his struggle four more shots are fired at his son.

“You’re going to regret that,” he whispers to Saakar.

Kairo pushes the blade into the man’s neck and slices his throat.

Within a few minutes all of the men Saakar brought with him are dead. Kairo doesn't even take a second to survey the violence at his front door. Instead he rushes over to his son. A small puff of sand shoots up as he kneels by Khalid. Taking his son's small hand in his own he squeezes it. Giving Khalid's hand a kiss tears stream down his face. He apologizes over and over again. This was the exact thing he wanted to prevent.

That's when he sees the damage.

Khalid's leg has been destroyed from the knee down.

Pieces of his leg, small shards really, cover the sand. So much of the boy's soul has been oozing from the wound that his veins have dimmed. The color glows fainter by the second. The sand underneath is deeply soaked with Khalid's soul. His eyes are shut and his mouth hangs open slightly. Kairo is completely stunned and horrified that anyone could do that to a child. But the shock last only for a split second as he gathers his thoughts and rushes inside the tent.

Kairo comes back mere minutes later with a long piece of cloth and a wet rag. He uses the rag, as quickly and carefully as he can, to clean the area around the wound. Then he unfurls the cloth and starts to wrap the wound. When he's satisfied with the tourniquet he places a hand on the boy's cheek.

Rushing back inside he throws a few necessities into a canvas bag and throws it over his shoulder. Then he grabs a long scarf and wraps it around his face. Pulling it over the bridge of his nose he goes back outside. He covers Khalid’s face with a cloth as well. As the winds pick up around them sand whips against Kairo’s covered face. He hopes the wind doesn’t pick up into a storm.

Kneeling down he gingerly slides his hands under his son's back, being mindful of the injury, and picks him up.

"Rest my boy. Rest, it's going to be alright."

As he trudges through the sand Kairo softly whispers a message, a prayer, to his wife. He doesn’t know if she’s listening. He doesn’t know if she can help. If he was honest with himself he’d admit that she was right. That he should’ve listened to her. Maybe then things would be different. He knows there’s nothing to be done about it now. So he does all that he can.

He braces himself against the harsh wind and pushes on.

[katymacsupernatural]

Stories to Awaken Terror Chapter 4: Purple Candy

Dean Winchester x Reader

2400 Words

Story Summary:As a couple of kids read a scary book, Sam, Dean and Y/N live those scary tales. Will they be able to figure out what’s causing the hunts before it’s too late?

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

“Aren’t we done with these stories yet?” Tyler whined as the three kids once again met in the tent, Zach holding the book in front of him. His sister was already there, her stuffed animal held tightly in her arms, a bowl of popcorn off to the side. “I don’t think they can get any better.”

“We have to finish the book,” Zach insisted, his eyes wide as he stared at his friends.

“Zach, are you okay?” Sophia asked, leaning back away from her brother at  his frenzied look.

“I will be if you don’t stop asking questions and let me start reading!” He yelled, both Tyler and Sophia quieting down to placate Zach. “There was a house at the end of the lane,” he started reading, his voice low, much creepier than normal.

“This house was nestled back in the trees, the wood no longer white but a dull, greasy gray. The windows were covered in dust, and everyone, the young and the old refused to step inside, afraid of what awaited them.”

“Years past, and still it sat empty, many people thinking that it would disintegrate with the wind. But still it sat there, until one day!” Zach exclaimed, glancing up at his friend and sister with wild eyes.

“What happened?” Tyler asked, his voice much higher than normal.

“It was almost like magic. This couple moved in, and the house transformed with them. The grey walls turned back to white, the windows shined the brightest of any in town. They were happy people, bringing children closer to them, offering them sweets. They began selling candy to the children, bags of candy. These little shiny purple balls. Children loved them, pleading with their parents for enough change to buy a bag after school.”

“What’s so scary about candy?” Sophia asked.

“After a month of selling their special purple candy, our heroes roll into town, looking into the mysterious deaths that had recently occured. Including those of children.”

“Dean, do you think this is a normal hunt, or…,” you asked, sitting in the front of the Impala for once, as Sam stretched out in the backseat. Dean had pulled you closer to him, his hand resting lightly on your thigh.

“I really don’t know,” he sighed lightly. “I wish I could say it was, but I also feel the pull of this hunt, much like the other ones. I just wish Cas would hurry up and figure out what’s going on.”

“I do too,” you whispered. “I have a bad feeling about this one.”

“We’ll be fine, like we always are,” Dean tried assuring you.

Turning silent, you stared out the window as Dean drove down Main Street. It was small and quaint, with only a couple of Mom and Pop shops. At the end was a little hotel, and Dean went inside to reserve a room while you turned to wake up the sleeping moose behind you.

Stretching, you watched as children passed by, bags of a strange looking purple candy clenched in their hands, their mouths dyed purple. Expecting them to be silly, and bouncing with all that sugar, you watched as they shuffled down the street, almost zombielike.

“That’s weird, isn’t it?” Sam asked, just as Dean came out of the lobby, smiling widely.

“So they only had two rooms left, both singles,” he announced. “Sam, you get your own room for once! Y/N and I can share.”

It had become a normal habit in the week since your last hunt, and you didn’t mind it at all. After all, falling asleep being held in Dean’s arms was definitely not a hardship, and you found yourself sleeping better than you had in a long time.

Pushing open the door to your hotel room, you were pleasantly surprised. A simple queen sized bed was placed in the middle, a patchwork quilt brightening the room. A small table, along with a fridge and couch completed the living area, but the bathroom had a deep bathtub along with a nice shower. “This is actually pretty decent,” you announced as Dean brought your items in.

“Ohh, I bet you’re going to want to try out that tub,” he stated before plopping down on the bed beside you. “Hopefully we get this hunt taken care of fast, and then we can spend a day relaxing. Maybe I could even join you?”

Sure, you and Dean had been sleeping in the same bed, but you had never gone past the kissing stage. Mainly because you were worried that you wouldn’t be good enough for the experienced man. But you didn’t tell him that, and he didn’t push.

“So, tell me again why we’re here?” You asked just as Sam came into the room, settling down in one of the chairs, opening his laptop.

“Because of the weird way children are dying,” Sam explained, pulling up the police records. “There have been four confirmed child deaths in the past month, and each one have been connected.”

“How?”

“They literally had no blood left in their bodies. Their veins were filled with these tiny little bugs,” he said, turning to show you the screen, and you hid your face in Dean’s shoulder, creeped out by the little bugs. “The weirdest thing?”

“What’s weirder than little bugs in your veins?” You asked, making Dean chuckle.

“Their hearts were gone. No sign of getting cut open, nothing. But no heart.”

“So what are we thinking? A very tricky werewolf?”

“I have no idea. The police haven’t been able to tie them together. The kids were different ages, and hung out in different circles.”

“Wait, I did notice something. Sam remember? Those kids out front, they seemed so weird. Eating that purple candy!”

“That’s not much to go on, but we’ve dealt with less,” Sam thought out loud. “I’d really like to head down to the police department, see what else I can find out.”

“Good. Y/N and I will try to find some kids, see if they can tell us where this purple candy is coming from, and if it’s tied in.”

“Meet back here in a couple of hours?” Sam suggested, Dean pulling you to your feet before you left the comfortable bed behind.

“It seems like every kid has eaten this candy!” Dean exclaimed. “I wonder if it’s the culprit?”

“Yeah, but no one is telling us where it’s being bought at,” you groaned. “If it is the cause, you would think we could figure out something.”

“Excuse me,” a small voice whispered, a hand reaching up to tug on your coat. “Are you here to stop those people?”

“What people?” You asked, turning to see a small boy, about six years old with dirty blonde hair and light blue eyes staring up at you.

“The people selling the candy. My friends are getting sick,” he whispered. “I’m scared.”

Kneeling down, Dean turned the boys attention to him. “Why don’t you tell us about these people, and where they live.”

“They live down there,” he pointed. “Selling candy. They were old when they came, but now, now they look young. It scares me.”

“Have you eaten any of the candy?” You asked him, and he shook his head. “Good, keep it that way. Go home, and we’ll get this figured out.”

Watching as the boy ran away, you turned to Dean. “Shall we go check them out?”

Taking his phone out, he called Sam, leaving a message as you made your way down the street. The houses turned from well maintained, to dark and falling apart. Watching closely, you hoped you could figure out which one you needed. It wasn’t until you rounded the corner that you knew finding it would be much easier than you thought.

It was the middle of three houses, and it stood out like a sore thumb. Both houses flanking it were falling apart, their windows boarded, no trespassing signs on the porch. But the one in the middle was tucked into the trees, it’s white paint vibrant against the darkness. It looked cleaned, and well maintained, and a sign proudly proclaimed it to be a sweets shop. “I think we found it,” you announced.

“Why don’t I have a good feeling about this?” Dean wondered out loud just as a couple stepped out onto the porch. The woman was stunning, with her long, thick dark brown hair and voluptuous body. The man was handsome with his olive skin and thick wavy hair. Standing side by side, they waved towards you, a smile upon their face.

“Welcome!” They called out, as you carefully stepped forward. “How can we help you?”

“Hi, we were just wondering if you were selling those candies?” Dean asked, keeping his arm wrapped around you waist.

The closer you stepped to the house, the more you could sense something was wrong. The grass in the front had a sweet, pungent smell, and the women’s eyes were dark and cruel. Her hand was wrapped in a blood stained cloth. “We are. We normally sell to children, but if you want some I just made a fresh batch.”

“No thank you,” Dean told them. “We were just wondering if they were connected to the deaths of the children in town.”

“I knew we would draw hunters if we weren’t careful,” her husband muttered, moving faster than you expected, standing in front of you and Dean before you could blink.

“Y/N, run!” Dean exclaimed, just as the man smashed Dean’s head with a rock, immediately knocking him unconscious.

“What the…,” you started to say, pulling your gun from your back pocket just as the man turned on you, his teeth long and sharp. Shooting him in the chest, you stared in shock as it didn’t seem to phase him before he brought the rock down, knocking you out instantly.

Your head aching, you woke up, immediately remembering what happened. Opening your eyes, you groaned as pain radiated through your head, your vision blurred from the blood that had seeped out of your wound.

You were chained to a table, both your hands and legs held by chains, an iv attached to your arm, blood slowly leaving your body.

“Y/N!” Dean exclaimed from your left, and you were just able to see him tied to a chair, his mouth tinged purple.

“Did they…,”

“Yeah, two bags full of candy,” he muttered. “I can already feel it taking effect. My reflexes are slower, and I feel sluggish.”

“Dean, I feel so tired,” you whispered, watching the blood leave you through the IV.

“That’s from blood loss,” he muttered. “Y/N, stay as still and as calm as possible. We’ll figure something out.”

“Dean, I think it’s going to be too late,” you whispered, already noticing how cold your body felt.

“It is too late,” the woman announced from the doorway. “You’ve already lost most of your blood. In a moment, you’ll be nothing but a lifeless body, another tasty meal for me and my husband.”

“No!” Dean yelled, pulling at his bindings, as your eyes closed, and the last breath left your body.

“No!” Sophia exclaimed, tossing her stuffed animal to the side. “These stories have been scary, but she can’t die!”

“That’s what it says in the story,” Zach argued. “I can’t change what it says.”

“I like her, and I want her ending up with Dean. So I say she can’t die,” Sophia insisted.

“And how do you expect to change it?” Tyler asked her.

Thinking for a moment, Sophia pulled out her marker, taking the book from her brother’s hands. At first she thought he was going to fight her, but he gave up the book, and she quickly wrote in the limited space. “There, that’s better.”

“Sophia, I don’t think that will work,” Zach started to say, but she just glared at him. “Fine, I’ll read it.”

“Thank you,” she answered, sitting back.

With a deep breath, Y/N shot straight up, as far as the chains would let you. Breathing heavily, your eyes wide and frantic, you stared around the room. Dean was no longer in the chair, and the woman lay bloody off to the side, her head no longer attached. You could hear voices in the other room, and you struggled against the chains.

“Dean, you know Cas won’t be able to bring her back,” Sam was saying. “We need to get her out of here, and give her a hunter’s funeral.”

“This isn’t right!” Dean was arguing. “She wasn’t meant to die this way! I knew something was wrong, I should have made her stay back at the motel!”

“Do you think she would have? This is Y/N we’re talking about. She died trying to save children, and that’s what matters.”

“Sam, I never got the chance to tell her,” Dean’s voice softened as you stilled. “Why didn’t I tell her?”

“I’m sorry,” Sam told his brother. “I wish things were different, I really do.”

Footsteps were heard as they came back into the room. You could tell the exact moment they noticed you, both men freezing in their spots, their eyes wide as they stared your way. “Y/N?” Dean breathed, but Sam placed a hand on his chest, stopping him.

“Dean, this could be a trick.”

“Y/N, how are you…,”

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “I remember dying, and then suddenly, I’m back.”

They both came forward, Sam with his silver knife in his hands. Carefully, he slid it across your skin, his eyes widening as you made no reaction. “Dean, I think it’s really her. Somehow, she was brought back.”

As soon as Sam said those words, Dean was undoing your chains, pulling you into his arms. “Damn it Y/N, I thought I had lost you.”

“You had. I have no idea why I’m back,” you answered, scared. “Do you think it has to do with, whatever’s going on?”

“I think that’s our only answer. If we could figure out what is going on,” Dean muttered, just as Sam came into the room, a piece of paper in his hands. It was yellowed, the words faded.

“Dean, I think you need to see this,” he spoke up, handing the paper over to him. From your spot, you could barely make out the printed words, along with words written in childish script, in bright red marker.

“Y/N, this is exactly what happened to you and I,” Dean stuttered. “And this writing here. I think it’s what brought you back to life!”

“Does that mean we’re living in some sort of book?” You asked, both brothers staring at each other with wide eyes, no one having the answer.

Dean/Jensen Tags:@acreativelydifferentlove @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278 @anokhi07 @aubreystilinski @bebravekeeponfighting @brindz30 @colette2537 @crusadedean @deanwinchesters-impala67 @haelyn @horsegirly99 @ikeneasul11 @its-not-a-tulpa @just-another-winchester @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @librarygeekery @msimpala67 @love-charmer-sketch @ria132love @ruprecht0420 @shadowhunter7 @sizzlingbearpolice @sleep-silent-angel @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @torn-and-frayed @wonderfulworldofwinchester

Stories to Awaken Terror Tags: @joseyrw @suckystoryteller @salt-n-burn-em-all @wingedcatninja @waywardbaby @waywardnerd67 @horsegirly99 @profoundly-bitchy-collection @jae-sch @sociopathtime @depressed-moose-78 @sophiebobzz @oreosatmidnight @librarygeekery @winchesterxtwo @asirammm @itsmerighthere @squirrelnotsam @karmamariejoy @linki-locks11 @xthelittlethings @incredibly-sarcastic-url @alwayskeepfightingkaz-2y5 @imascio08 @deansbabygirl01 @deansgirl215 @sasquatch5 @kay18115 @gh0stgurl @quackerstheduck663057 @photos-by-16 @idk-wtf-is-happening @pheonyxstorm

Forever Tags(CLOSED):

@16wiishes @4401lnc @algud @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove @angelsandwinchesters @anspgene @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @bemyqueenofdarkness @bohowitch @bumber-car-s @brooke-supernatural16  @brunettechick @camelotandastronauts @captainradicalpassion @chelsea072498 @clairese1980 @captainemwinchester @createdbybadappreciation @darthdeziewok @destiels-new-girl @donnaintx @dont-you-dare-say-misha @dslocum89 @duckieburns @docharleythegeekqueen @emmazach @emilicious-7 @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008  @esoltis280 @essie1876 @generalgoldfishldrm @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek @herbologystudent252 @heyitscam99 @highfunctioning-soiciopath @hms-fangirl @hobby27 @ichooseeternalplaces @imboredsueme @internationalmusicteacher @ithinkimadorable-67 @iwriteaboutdean  @jayankles @jensen-gal @just-another-busy-fangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @keelzy2 @leanbeankeane @lifelovelaughangell123 @li-ssu @littleblue5mcdork  @lowlyapprentice @luciferslucille @maui137 @mellowlandrunaway @mogaruke @nanie5 @natashacamillaus @newtospnfandom @offbeatsilhouette @percussiongirl2017 @pilaxia @pizzarollpatrol @plaid-lover-bay25 @ronja-uebrick @rosegoldquintis @roxyspearing @samanddeanmyheroes @sandlee44 @shamelesslydean @sillesworldofwriting @sgarrett49 @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @smoothdogsgirl @spnbaby-67 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnwoman @sunskittlex @starry-chaos @superbadassnatural @thebikiniinspector @theflameontheinside @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @tina8009 @totallovelesson @tunadean @whimsicalrobots @walkslikesummeractslikerain @whimsicalrobots @wildlandfox @winchesterbrothers-inc @winchesterxtwo @winchester-writes @worldwidehansum @zombiewerewolfqueen

[jamespottervevo]

The One With The Party

St. Albus’s Series / Modern Muggle AU

This is the fourth installment of the St. Albus’s series. The series is made up of snippets and may not be posted in chronological order because I am garbage. Eventually I’ll get around to numbering them as I post more. (events directly predate “the one with the phone call,” and follow those of “the one with the new school” and “the one with the crushing.” also tagging @snapslikethis because linds once talked to me about this verse and I am desperate for attention)

tw for homophobic slur and canon compliant racism

3.4k | ffnet | ao3 | installments 1, 2, 3 |

Lily presses a cold rag against Sev’s swollen eye, brows furrowed. He won’t tell her why he was in a fight, only that it was Potter and his gang. She doesn’t know them too well, only Remus, who she can’t possibly imagine doing this, and Peter, who is too mousy to even raise his hand in class.

He’s got a nasty scratch on his cheek and his sallow, olive skin is mottled purple around his already dark eye and so she just tries to get some of the swelling to go down, apologizing each time she presses the rag too hard and feels him flinch.

She wants to believe Sev, in nearly the year they’ve been friends, he’s not lied to her, not that she knows of, at least. But she’s still having trouble wrapping her head around his flimsy story. At least until she sees the four boys the next day.

Potter’s sporting a black eye to mirror Sev’s, and his nose is swollen as if it were punched, hard. Remus’s lower lip looks swollen and she sees a bruise peeking out from under his collar. Pettigrew seems to have escaped with the least amount of injuries, only a small bruise on his temple, but Black is another story. A black eye, a cut lip, and marks ringing his neck that look all too much like fingers. Sev couldn’t have possibly done all that…

And maybe she could have let herself believe his story, but she sees a few boys from Stevens, Sev’s house, all a year older, bearing similar marks of a scuffle. And when all nine boys are called down to McGonagall’s office, she tries to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest.

As soon as Lily sinks down at the table, setting down her tray, Mary’s off like a shot. Elbows on the table, head tipped forward, hair tucked behind her ears. The gossip pose. “So, have you heard about what happened?” She asks, conspiratorial. Dorcas slides in next to Lily and quirks a brow.

“Gossip? This early in the afternoon?”

Mary flicks a pea at her from across the table. “Come on, don’t tell me you don’t know what happened. A bunch of blokes from Stevens got into it with James’s lot out behind the building yesterday.” Dorcas’s eyes widen and Mary nods and Lily scowls, stabbing violently at her chicken breast.

“Sev told me about it yesterday,” she begins, though as soon as his name passes her lips her mates faces’ darken, “said that Potter’s groupies ganged up on him.” She knows, of course she knows, that it sounds like a lie. And maybe it is. But Sev isn’t a bad person. He wouldn’t lie to her, would he? After all, she’s seen the way Potter acts.

Dorcas frowns, leaning back. “Lils, sweetheart.” She reaches out to pat her arm, as if offering her condolences. But they don’t know Sev. He’s not a bad person.

Mary’s already steamrolling forward, eyes lit up. “I heard it was about the convocation. Black’s got a brother, you know. He goes to Riddle, least he did. Maybe he’ll get pulled out and sent here after what happened.”

Dorcas shifts on the bench, cocking her head to the side, her hand still on Lily’s arm. “Black’s got a brother? Wonder why they went to separate schools. Sirius and I aren’t, like, friends, but friendly enough to know he’s got a brother,” she says, her lips pursing as Mary continues to nod, bobble headed and eager.

The conversation grates at Lily, all but in one ear and out the other. She loves her girls, really, she does, but sitting there, listening to them go on and on about the fight and Sirius’s brother- Reggie or something awful- it’s a reminder of Sev and the fact that he… well, she isn’t quite sure what he had done, but he had done something. Lied, maybe. Gotten into a fight, definitely.

She doesn’t want to dwell on it much at all.

“I’ve got to go. Slughorn asked if I’d grade a few papers for him and I-” Lily falters, just for a moment, Dorcas and Mary looking up at her, matching frowns working onto their faces.

“Lils, don’t go. We believe you believe that Snape isn’t lying-” Mary begins.

"No, it’s cool, really it’s cool, I just have to go,’ she says, fumbling over her words as she quickly stands, sliding her bag back up onto her shoulder, hands gripping the plastic of the lunch tray. Hard. “I’ll see you guys later. I’m fine, really. Everything’s fine.”

It would be great, Lily thinks, if I believed what I said. But recently, Sev’s been so distant. It isn’t like they were ever chatty. That’s not the type of friends they were. The type of friends they are. She isn’t really sure, anymore.

He’s been spending so much time with Mulciber’s crew, ditching their afterschool study sessions to work on assignments with Avery and Rosier. Or at least, that’s what he’s been telling her. Lily isn’t sure what she should be bothered to believe anymore.

She tucks her hair back behind her ear as she walks, the missing eight inches still a shock. But, a good shock, Lily’s decided. A good sort of change. Her flats clack against the ground as she makes her way towards Stevens. She really does have papers to grade for Slughorn. (She’d just been hoping to put them off until he delegated them off to another member of the Slug Club.)

She’s halfway across the courtyard when she hears the it, the shuffling and scuffling and huffy breathing before the shout of her name. “Evans!” She doesn’t have to turn to know its Potter.

Lily doesn’t quite stop walking, but, she’ll admit that she slows down, just a bit, as a rather sweaty looking Potter appears at her side. His tie is undone, his shirt partway unbuttoned, and there are what look like grass stains on his elbows. All of this comes in second to the massive bruise blooming just under his eye, his glasses bent around his very angry looking nose.

“Potter,” is all she says.

He pushes a hand up through his hair, takes a gulping breath. “Look, I know that you probably think that I went out of my way to attack Sni- Snape. That I went out of my way to attack Snape, but I promise I-” Lily holds up her hand.

“I don’t care, Potter. Please, just leave me alone.” It’s a lie, a dirty, blatant, lie. And she knows it, and maybe she isn’t exactly fond of the way that Potter looks like a kicked puppy as she speaks, but she’s seen him tearing down Severus enough to know a lie when she hears one.

“Right, yeah. Uh, sorry, then,” Potter mumbles, eyes falling down to the ground as he falls out of step with her until he’s just standing there in the courtyard. She pretends not to feel his eyes on her until she disappears into Stevens.

             -

           If she was a worse friend, she would have just said “no” when Mary showed up on her doorstep, waggling her eyebrows and announcing that they would be going out. But, Lily flinches as Mary plucks out an apparently stubborn hair from between her eyebrows, she’s not a bad enough friend.

“I know what you’re thinking already, Lils, but this will be fun, I promise,” Mary murmurs, her brow knit in concentration as she continued to pluck at her brows, all but sitting in her lap to do so. It would be much easier to believe her, Lily decides, if she wasn’t currently yanking out her hair. “Cardoc throws, like, the best parties. And I know you’ve been all messed up about what went on with Snape lately and this has to help.”

Mary isn’t really the sort of girl anyone says “no” to, and so, Lily rolls her eyes and gently pushes her off her lap. “I’m fine, Mary. But,” she pauses and offers a slight smile, moving over to her closet, “a party does sound like fun.” She tugs open her closet and fights back the unwelcome thought of Petunia. She would have loved to help her get ready, back then. Before. And it still stings to think about.

So, Lily tugs down a tank top and holds it up appraisingly, looking over at Mary with a quirked brow. Mary- who has sprawled out across her bed in a far too easy manner- nods, her fingers steepled in front of her face. “Yeah, definitely. Show off those sexy shoulders is what I always say.” Which, Lily knows for a fact, Mary has never once said. “Pair it with those cute flats, the ones with the laces.”

The next two hours pass like this, with Lily holding up tops or jeans or skirts or jewelry or shoes, and Mary trying to mix and match for the cutest possible outfit for Cardoc’s party. It’s fun, having Mary there. It’s been… too long, Lily thinks, since she’s had this sort of fun. She can’t even remember the last time she’d been to a party.

But as Mary pulls into an empty bit of space around the curb in a glaringly posh neighborhood, Lily’s painfully aware that she’s never been to a party like this.

She doesn’t recognize half the people stumbling up the sloped lawn, can’t name half the models of cars that are wrapping around the street, but at least she can halfway hum along to the song pouring from the open windows of the house.

This.

This is what being a teenager is supposed to be.

“Dorcas said she’d be here, but god only knows where. I haven’t been here in ages, I forgot how fucking massive Cardoc’s place is.” Mary is yelling over the thumping of the bass while their shoes slip against the damp grass of the Dearborns’ overly manicured lawn. The door to the bloody mansion is wide open and inside, Lily can see her classmates dancing. Or grinding rather. Like the queen that she is, Mary pushes inside, her hand slipping into Lily’s, her long legs clearing a path.

“Oi, Mac wasn’t sure if you’d make it!” “Mary! I fucking love that top, where did you get it?”  “Lily, ohmygosh, I’ve, like, never seen you at a party before, you look so cute-”

She can’t hear anything really, not over all the voices, or the music, or the sounds of bottles clinking. Lily is certain that someone had been trying to talk to her, but by the time she’d managed to glance around, Mary’s already dragging her through the crowded foyer.

It’s not the first time she’s been in a nice house before. Mary’s house is nice, with its high ceilings and white tile, and vaguely geometric looking furniture. But Cardoc’s house is some strange combination of old money, midlife crisis, and way too much mahogany. She should feel small and out of place and poor, but- Lily steps quickly to the side to avoid being tripped over by Benjy something-or-other- it’s rather hard to feel out of place when everyone is on such an equal playing field.

The lights in the living room are dimmed and she can just barely see all the furniture pushed up against the walls under the shoddily hung blacklight and strobes. Lily can see a bit of light pouring out from a room just off all the madness- a kitchen or dining room, she’s guessing, where it looks like a group are playing some sort of drinking game.

The entire house reeks of expensive cologne, expensive alcohol, expensive weed. Mary leans in close to her, lips almost brushing against her ear as she all but shouts. “Would’ya mind if I went to find Becks? I’ve been meaning to talk to her for like, the past month, about what she saw going down in Hufton the other day,” she yells. Though, at least she has the decency to look rather apologetic. “I can wait though, until we find Dorcas, I don’t want to leave you alone or anything-”

“It’s cool, Mar. I want to look around anyway,” Lily says, well, shouts, waving her hand. Mary bites her lip and watches her for a moment, before Lily rolls her eyes and gives her a gentle shove so she can go find someone named Becks, apparently. Whoever the hell that is.

“You’re a peach,” Mary pauses as she smacks a lipgloss sticky kiss to her cheek, “keep your phone on you, I’ll text every half hour,” she adds, before quickly disappearing into the mess of people, looking right at home in the throng of writhing hormones.

And then, she’s alone, standing just at the edge of the dancing. She takes a breath before slipping into the crowd herself, rolling her hips along with the music. She isn’t sure when she starts singing along, shouting the lyrics as a very pretty girl she doesn’t quite recognize starts to dance with her.

It’s fun, and exhilarating, and freeing, and Lily’s laughing, and jumping and waving her arms to music she’s blasted on the radio. This is what she’s missed. For the time, it’s easy to forget about Sev and Petunia and the way Potter looked when she’d walked away and her dad and who her mum was becoming and grades and everything bad.

It’s every terrible teen movie wrapped up into an indistinguishable amount of time. When she finally breaks free from the crowd, squeezing her way toward the kitchen to try and find something to drink, her phone vibrates in her back pocket. A text from Mary. Rather, a lot of texts from Mary.

lil my car got fucking towed holy shit what do i do

come find me i gotta go like, bail my car out of car jail

did u see the fuckin hydrant bc i didnt see a hydrant

lily lily lily lily where tf are u

Shit. Lily pushes past a couple making out and slips into an empty hallway, pressing the “dial” button by Mary’s name.

“Lily, where are you? I am so sorry, I feel like we just got here and now I have to bail and I feel, like, so terrible-” Mary is rambling, her words coming out almost too quickly to comprehend.

“Mary, it’s okay, really. Just go get your car-”

“Are you sure? Like, I cannot leave you alone here. I am not a terrible friend-”

“You aren’t a terrible friend. I can catch a ride with Dorcas, okay? Really-”

“You gotta text me when you get home, okay? I am so, so sorry but-” Wherever Mary is, Lily can’t hear what she’s saying anymore, and so after a bit more warbled yelling, she hangs up, slips her phone back into her pocket.

She leans up against the wall of the hallway, just off from the kitchen, she thinks. The music is still thumping through the walls, but there aren’t any strobe lights or any people, and so Lily takes a moment to catch her breath, pushing a hand through her hair, shaking it off the back of her sweat slick neck. A part of her wishes she’d put on a headband before she’d left the house, but according to Mary, it hadn’t fit the “aesthetic.”

Lily pushes herself off the wall, rolls her shoulders, and sets herself to go and find Dorcas- she doubts she’d be able to hear her phone in that mess out there- but-

“Lily?” Her stomach drops. Because why would he be here? He doesn’t even know Cardoc- well, not that she really knows Cardoc much either, just, the idea of Sev, there, at a party thrown by the type of person he said he hates. She turns, just slightly, hoping that she imagined it, imagined his voice. She hadn’t.

Because Sev is standing there in the hallway, a glassy sort of look to him in a pair of ill-fitting jeans and a worn-out t-shirt with a stain near the hem. It’s strange, to see him out of his uniform. She hadn’t even thought he owned anything casual. She can still see his black eye, even in the dark.

“What are you doing here?” He takes a few steps closer to her, and as mad as she is at him, it’s stupidly comforting to have someone else there with her, someone she knows.

“I came with Mary. I’m allowed to have fun, Severus,” she says, a bit pointedly. His eyes aren’t quite focused and it’s apparent he’s been doing something. She can smell whatever it is he’s been drinking on his breath.

“You don’t like parties,” he says. It annoys her, for some reason, that he says that, that he says it like that. She folds her arms over her chest, frowns, just slightly.

“I do, actually. You don’t like parties. I never went to anything because you never wanted to go.” He’d always found some way to get out of everything like this, out of everything that reeked of money and their richer classmates.

“Came with Avery and Mulciber. I’m having fun, too. This is fun.” His words are strung together in a way that doesn’t come naturally. He’s close enough that Lily can see how glossed over his eyes are. Of course he’s here with them, his new friends.

“Why are you hanging out with them? They aren’t good people, Sev, you know that. I know you know that. They're racists, you know.” She doesn’t know why she says it, especially why she says it there, in Cardoc’s hallway during a rager, but.

He laughs at her and it sounds sick. It’s wet and heavy and drunk, his palm hitting the wall too close to her head as he tries to support himself and she hates that she flinches. He should have hated that, that he’d made her flinch. It doesn’t look like he notices.

“What do you know? You don’t know them, Lil, they're fun. They like me. They don’t take any shit from dirty fuckers like Potter. We don’t need his kind here. Not him, or… or fucking fags like Black or all those fuckin’ immigrants,” he slurs, gesturing with one hand. Lily hardens.

“No, don’t you say anything like that. You’re not like this. You’re just…you’re drunk and saying what they’ve been telling you and-”

“He likes you, fucking Potter, always fucking staring at you. Thinks he’s so much better than everybody else ‘spite being one of those.”

“Severus,” Lily snaps, her palms damp with sweat, shaking. No, no, no. She thinks about what Potter had said to her- tried to say to her, earlier in the courtyard. “I’ve defended you to him. You aren’t like this. This isn’t you. I’ve stood up for you.” Even she knows how desperate she sounds. How pathetic she sounds.

“I don’t fucking need that, not from some immigrant cunt-”

And it’s like shattering glass. “Goodbye, Sev- Snivellus.” She uses the name like a slap, hoping it hides the quiver in her lip because he is supposed to be her best friend. He’s had lunch with her, with her Polish mum, in their house. He’s supposed to have been her best friend.

“Lily, no, wait, I didn’t-” Snape stumbles toward her and over his words as she pushes him away, his hand on his shoulder, tugging and tearing at the strap of her top. It snaps as she pushes him again.

“Leave me alone. I never want to fucking speak to you again.” And she’s pushing him again and moving faster than she thought she could down the hall. Someone presses a full, sloshing, cup into her hand and she drinks it, quick and thoughtless and stupid. She can hear him behind her still, trying to catch up, yelling her name.

not from some immigrant cunt-

not from some immigrant cunt-

not from some immigrant cunt-

There’s another cup in her hand and she doesn’t know who put it there. Most of it spills down the front of her ruined blouse.

She isn’t sure exactly when she started crying, but her head is swimming and she can’t breathe, and it feels like the world is getting too close too quickly by the time she breaks out into the open night air.

Lily doesn’t look, not as she clumsily unlocks her phone, not as she scrolls, not as she hits call.

“Potter,” she hiccups, “ca-can you come get me?”

[feyria]

Yet another bnha oc~

Name:­ Yozaki Torabiru

Nickname: Neko and Zaki

Villain Name:­ Bakeneko

Age: 26

Gender:­ male

Sexuality:­ Asexual

Personality:­ Sly and calculating, Yozaki likes to speak to others as if he knows something they don't. Most of the time he has absolutely no idea but he enjoys getting on others' nerves all the same. He can be considered as laid back or aloof, rarely getting mad and almost always seen with a grin or smirk on his face. As cliche as it is, Yozaki does drop the occasional cat pun, but only occasionally when he is feeling any intense emotion. Yozaki really just enjoys causing general havoc in the middle of the night, normally when its cloudy or under a new moon. He tends to appear from nowhere, his crimes ranging from petty theft to arson and even attempted murder. After having his fun or when heroes begin to show up, Yozaki disappears down alleys or inside parks. His quirk and clothing give him the advantage when it comes to running away.

Likes:­ Surprisingly, Yozaki likes dogs and even has one as a pet. Creating trouble in every and any way possible. He likes to collect nice rocks that he finds for the simple reason in that they just catch his attention.

Dislikes:­ How heroes that only work for money or fame are deemed heroes while he was considered a borderline criminal for trying to help others without a license.

Strengths:­ Cunning and extremely sneaky, Yozaki can make a quick get away and outwit most police officers as well as a good number of heroes. Clever enough to not fall for most baits or traps. Yozaki can handle his anger very well and even when infuriated, he can keep himself from lashing out in a way that will play him into his enemies hands.

Weaknesses:­ Though he can keep his anger under a tight lid, he does hold grudges and it is nearly impossible for him to forgive someone. He could be dying and still refuse help just because he dislikes the person. Very bitter towards heroes, Yozaki is a loose cannon that just barely works with others. There is always the small question of when he will turn on other villains as well just to have more fun.

Appearance: Yozaki is fairly tall, standing at 6'5' with a decently muscular build similar to Bakugo and Todoroki. His hair is short, black and typically slicked back; Yozaki has olive colored skin. His pale yellow eyes have a thin shape as if he always has them narrowed. He wears rounded rectangular glasses, the lense frames only cover the bottom halves and are red in color. He doesn't wear shoes, his mutation quirk gives his feet extra padding to protect them from the rough floor. The padding is very similar to the pads on a cat's paws; he also has black cat ears on the sides of his head instead of human ears along with a sleek black tail about four feet in length.

Standard Clothes: Yozaki likes to wear casual clothing like form fitting black jeans with a black long sleeved shirt and a black sweater vest on top. Most of his wardrobe consists of dark colors like blue, purple and black. Flannel shirts are something he wears on the rare days that he doesn't feel like leaving his home.

Costume:­ Yozaki wears a tight fitting black long-sleeved shirt with a red-gold armor vest on top and black and red cargo pants with extra padding on the sides and knees to protect against damage. He has red and gold armor wrapped around his tail that stops two inches from the tip and two inches from the base. He has similar armor placed on the back of his ears. He keeps smoke bombs, lock picks, handcuffs, razor blades, a taser and various other weapons in the pockets of his pants.

Weapons/Gadgets:­ Silver, red and gold gauntlets with steel claws, they fit his whole hands like gloves and have a steel plate extension that covers his forearm about an inch below his elbows. The gauntlets have metal plates on the tips of his fingers as well as a portion of his palm similar to the pads on a cat's paw. The plates can become heated or magnetic with the flip of a switch on the back of the gauntlets.

Swim:­ Absolutely hates water so he doesn't have a swim suit.

Sleep:­ Because it's much more comfortable for him Yozaki prefers to sleep either nude or with just grey boxers on.

Winter:­ Surprisingly weak to the cold, Yozaki wears oversized fur sweaters, a scarf around his neck, fluffy ski caps, and jeans. He even wears shoes if it's snowing.

Formal:­ he doesn't attend formal events so he doesn't own anything particularly fancy. If he does attend one, he'll just go in his favorite outfit of form fitting black jeans and a long sleeved black shirt.

*Who would they?­ Fall for:­ As wild and erratic as Yozaki can be, he prefers someone that is more down to earth and grounded. A level headed rock to help him relax and unwind after causing trouble. He likes knowledgeable types, those that prefer to fight their battles with common sense and quick with over pure brute force. If they can keep up with his quips and playful taunting, all the better for him in his book.

Befriend:­ Extremely picky about those he chooses to spend more than ten minutes around, Yozaki only befriends a person after determining that they will not hold him back from having fun. He enjoys being around a person that really doesn't care what he does no matter how twisted it is. It's even better for him if that person likes to cause trouble as much as he does.

Hate:­ Heroes like Endeavor and MT. lady, people that only care for their reputation. Those that try to ruin his twisted games and the police force. Yozaki really can't stand a person that follows the way society works; a person that believes anything is illegal if the culprit doesn't possess the proper licenses even if they are doing the right thing.

Respect:­ Yozaki can respect those that don't turn a blind eye to the cruelty of the world. Those that don't try to sugar coat their words or actions. Someone like Stain would be the type of person Yozaki respects, he might have even admired the hero killer for a bit.

Rival:­ Yozaki doesn't believe in rivals as he has no competitive spirit at all. He sees life as a playground and he's just there to have fun. The only thing he is ever serious about is showing heroes how efficient and cunning he can be, what they ended up missing out on when they labeled him a criminal in his early days.

Hobbies/Skills:­ Yozaki likes to brand his victims with the heated plates on his gauntlets, leaving paw shaped burns on their body. Collecting nice rocks and precious jewels that he steals.

*How they Act­ Towards Romantic Int­erests: A huge cuddler, Yozaki loves to initiate physical contact with those that he is in a relationship with. He doesn't go much farther than hugs, cuddles or laying on them. He also likes to bring gifts whenever he can; mainly jewels he steals or something specific that the other person enjoys. He can't cook to save his life but he still tries for them any way. Yozaki is a shameless flirt, showering his love interest with cringey pick up lines and embarrassing dirty talk.

Acquaintances:­ Yozaki likes to be off on his own most of the time so any acquaintances he has he rarely speaks to unless he's bored or stuck near them for some time. Anything he does say to them is normally carefully worded to get a reaction out of them and if he likes how they respond, he may hang around them more often.

Towards Friends/Clos­e Friends: For those that manage to hold his attention long enough, Yozaki tries to get them to join him on his night time "games" of causing trouble in the cities. He drops the habit of trying to annoy them unless he's in a bad mood. Otherwise he just hangs around them, lounging about or snacking on something to pass the time.

Rivals:­ Since he doesn't see anyone as a rival, Yozaki treats them the same way he treats acquaintances, he only speaks to them when necessary and most of it is baited speech as he tries to annoy them for fun.

Towards Enemies:­ Yozaki is vicious with his enemies, nearly going out of his way to find any and every weakness on them and relentlessly exploiting them. He doesn't hesitate to end their life if he's given the chance but he tends to fail because he tries to drag it out, giving others a chance to come to the rescue.

Towards Iconic Figur­es: With no one other than Stain to admire, Yozaki doesn't see anyone else as iconic so there's no change in how he acts. Unless that iconic figure is a hero that others admire, then Yozaki makes it his mission to physically break them and show the public just how weak they can be under pressure.

Meeting Strangers:­ Most of the time when Yozaki meets a stranger it's someone he is getting ready to attack or rob but he still may say a random sentence with little to no meaning, normally a way to distract them or catch them off guard. If it's another villain or someone that happens to like trouble, then Yozaki is just friendly enough to introduce himself before taking off.

When Facing Fears:­ Yozaki doesn't have many fears but when facing any of them, he tends to get angry with himself for being afraid in the first place. He becomes reckless and nearly twice as more likely to make a horribly simple mistake. He more or less goes on autopilot with only two things in mind: fight off the fear or escape from it.

In a life changing s­ituation: Yozaki considers every major event in his life as one that could change up his whole way of living. He takes everything in stride, regardless of how dangerous it can be to himself, he really just enjoys living in the moment. That's not to say that he doesn't fear death or things similar to it, it's more that he will try to go out with a bang- taking anyone else with him in the process.

History:­ Yozaki originally started out as a vigilante after being rejected from U.A, taking down criminals under the cover of darkness but that changed when he was caught. He was forced to spend a week in jail after ignoring multiple warnings from other heroes. He believed they were just bluffing, after all, he was helping them stop crime. He never understood how it could be considered illegal when he wasn't even severely hurting the perps. Nevertheless, after the week in prison, Yozaki began to hold a grudge against heroes and the whole society. He would still punish criminals, but as they continuously reprimanded him instead of thanking him for his help, he began to branch out damaging the surrounding area and any hero who tried to stop him. The final straw that pushed him completely over the edge was when he helped saved three other heroes from a villain tag team that had used hostages as bait. The heroes never thanked him for the help even though they nearly died and to make the whole matter worse, they treated him like he was part of the duo villain group. They believed his rescuing them had gone off entirely too smoothly, almost as if it were planned and they very nearly arrested him as well. He was able to escape from them but ever since then, Yozaki has despised heroes and all they stand for. He stopped playing vigilante and went full criminal, commiting any illegal act that could pop into his head and playing cat and mouse with the heroes or police force that may come after him. His favorite phrase is, "you don't need a license to have my brand of fun!"

Ethnicity/Nationality: Yozaki was born and raised in Japan, around Shinjuku to be exact.

Fighting Style: His fighting style really depends on who exactly he's fighting. Most of the time he goes for an ambush, sneaking up on his victims under the cover of darkness. Depending on his mood he'll either try to end them quickly or torment them until he's satisfied, using his strength to pin them down.

Habits: he likes to run his fingers through his hair when bored or thinking of ways to cause trouble. The first thing he does when he gets home every day is to dig through his rock and precious gem collection. It's not that he thinks anything has been stolen, it's more that he just really enjoys looking through them.

Family: Tanzaki Torabiru(father)- he's the one that Yozaki inherited the cat quirk from. He knows his son is a villain but has long since given up on trying to get him to stop. He also has no idea where to find him as Yozaki broke off from all contact years ago.

Mizumi Torabiru (mother)- Yozaki inherited his stretching quirk from her. She also tried to get Yozaki to quit his devious ways up until Stain came about. The whole situation with the hero killer helped her understand why Yozaki did what he did, even if it was way past the extreme level.

Residence: Thanks to all the trouble he likes to cause, Yozaki now has to live either on the run or on the low. He currently lives in a pretty run down neighborhood on the outskirts of the city. It's a small studio home with an even smaller bathroom and kitchen. He has a sofa bed, a small flat screen TV equipped with the most basic of cable and a laptop he stole a while back. It's not much but Yozaki is more than satisfied with it.

Musical Themes: Demi Lovato- sorry not sorry (no matter how many times I listen to this song, I always think of Yozaki)

Quotes:­ "I wanted to be a hero once...turns out being bad is a hella lot more fun!", "Why be a simple cat burglar when I can be a CAT-tastrophe??", "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" "In this crappy society it doesn't matter what you do, if you don't have the 'right documents' for it, you may as well be a villain- that's how this shitty world sees it!"

Quirk Name:­ Stretch cat

Type: mutation as well as transformation

Description:­ stretch cat is a two part quirk, the first being that he has cat-like features: a cat's tail, cat ears, whiskers, pupils that dilate and retract depending on sunlight, retractable claws on his hands and feet, and soft pads on his hands and feet as well (inherited from his father). The second part of his quirk is that he can stretch any of his limbs (arms, legs and tail)up to three feet from his body. The downside is that they don't give him extra strength, he has to work and build muscle on his body as well as increase his endurance (inherited from his mother) Overusing his quirk is similar to overusing any muscle: it causes pain, soreness, burning and he could even pull or tear something if he gets carried away. He displays some cat-like behaviors as well: purring, hissing, letting the odd meow or two slip past his lips and, of course, having better reflexes.

Strengths:­ Enhanced reflexes give Yozaki the upper hand in close combat fights, his reaction time is impeccable and he can easily dodge some dangerous blows. With the stretch ability, he can turn a close quarters fight into a long ranged one on his end. His ears and eyes also give him the upper hand at night with slightly better vision but not as perfect as a cat's while he ears raise his hearing level.

Weaknesses: His ears and whiskers are very sensitive to pain so he tends to fight in a way to protect them. A good hit to one of those areas will cause him to either flinch away or become stunned for a few crucial seconds. He's gone through mental and endurance training to fight this but there's still a good 50% chance that he will be caught off guard.

Main Skills:

Caudal whiplash: Yozaki lashes his target with his tail three times in succession. He attacks with his tail stretched taut to maximize the damage, the third strike having a 65% chance of drawing blood at the cost of causing pain to himself.

Branding paw: flips the switch to heat the metal plates on his gauntlets before going on a near reckless attack against his target. The metal plates can heat to a scorching 450° degrees but to keep from burning himself, Yozaki only keeps the heat on for twenty seconds, not including the heating and cooling down times. Takes a good ten seconds to fully heat and another ten to cool down.

Spider-cat escape tool: flips the switch to activate the magnetic force in his metal paw plates so he can scale most steel surfaces. The magnet itself is strong enough to support his weight so he doesn't lift his hands to climb, instead he slides his hands up in a shuffle motion. It saves him energy until he's ready to deactivate the force.

[excxt]

they can’t hear us - part one.

“I’ve got piss on my hands, give me a second.”

 The joke was that they handled the clients’ entire digestive process, from taking the food out of brown paper take-out bags and arranging it on the table to wiping down the toilets they used later that night. They ran down the lists written on lined yellow paper pads, names and orders, special instructions bolded and underlined.

 “ONIONS ON THE SIDE, SEVEN GRAIN INSTEAD OF ASIAGO FOCACCIA”

“ONE SMOOTHIE SHOULD HAVE KALE INSTEAD OF SPINACH”

“GET ENOUGH BBQ SAUCE TO BATHE A BABY ELEPHANT IN”

“GOD HELP YOU IF THE BALSAMIC VINAIGRETTE ISN’T LIGHT”

“EXTRA WELL DONE. IF IT’S NOT EXTRA WELL DONE YOU WILL BE GOING BACK”

 Names were scribbled in Sharpie across the tops of Thai food containers. Receipts were highlighted and stacked in the middle of the table. For ten minutes after the food was laid out, they answered their cell phones with foreboding, expecting to hear, “Someone’s food was wrong. You need to take it back.” Then there was the shameful walk into the lounge where band members and producers were draped across leather couches, poking at salads and stir fry, and the session assistant all but took you by the wrist and dragged you out into the hall with the disgraced bag of food.

 “There’s tomato on this. He tried to just take it off, but you know how the juice gets on the bread and ruins everything. You’ll have to take it back.”

 Then he glared at you while you nodded for half a minute, watching for a spark of understanding in your eye to tell him that you now knew what the “no” in “no tomato” meant.

 “If he can’t wait two seconds, he’s gonna have piss in his coffee.” Ariel stuffed his phone back in his pocket. His full moon dodger blue eyes lifted toward the high ceiling and then closed while he regained composure. He blinked and turned to put his hands under the sink faucet.

 “Can you finish this? Coffee machine in the front kitchen is broken.”

 Hannah nodded. “Sure.”

 A storm cloud of dark curly hair bounced on Ariel’s head as he bounded out the door and along side the wall of the building, wildly shaking drops of water from his fingers. Hannah watched him go and turned back to the mirror. Her face peeked back at her through cloudy streaks of Windex. Choppy dark hair was cropped close to her head and she raised her delicate eyebrows just to see the arch they pulled. She blinked and spritzed the reflection with a burst of icy blue chemical, briskly wiping the glass clear. Then she bent over the toilet, examining the porcelain bowl for missed specks of dirty yellow or clean streaks left from inadequate wipe-down of disinfectant. “No streaks,” Oliver had told her on her first run-through, “even clean streaks. Not one hint that this toilet has ever been used by another human.”

 She huffed out a sigh at a smattering of apple juice amber flecks near the hinge of the toilet seat. A tiny black hair curled against the splatter, stuck in the dried drops. THWAP went the wet disinfectant wipe as it slapped down and curled over the smooth edge of the bowl. Hannah stared at it for a moment, letting the stain break up under its antibacterial weight, imagining little germ fighters marching out of the porous fibers to lift the curled hair up and carry it away. She gathered the wipe and swabbed the bowl, then quickly ran a paper towel over it to prevent streaking. She stood back and ducked and tilted her head this way and that to scrutinize the sparkling white surface from every angle that light happened to hit it, then hurled the crumpled paper towel mess into a garbage bag and let her arms drop.

 “I don’t care,” she said out loud. It echoed off the faux marble floor.

 She tied the trash bag and kicked up the door stop, then grabbed the brass knob at the very last moment before the slam. She knew Paul was mixing in C, right on the other side of the wall. She liked Paul. He picked off accidental tomatoes and didn’t complain about the juice.

 The dumpster sat against the fence in the parking lot and made a horrible screech when the side door slid open. The air was dense and biting and smelled of dead sodden leaves. Trees on the other side of the fence whipped bare branches against the power lines, shaking the length of the thick black rope like a frightened snake. Hannah tossed her bag and didn’t bother dragging the door closed. Ryan came scrambling across the parking lot with bags full of take-out containers, soiled napkins, and small plastic cups leaking bright red sauces from under their lids. He held the trash at arms length, which was quite a distance considering his lanky limbs, and came up next to Hannah, beaming.

 “So G doesn’t look too bad now,” he announced cheerfully. “Just some dishes.” He lifted the bags up and over and let them fall with a thud. “Anyone leave yet?”

 “Don’t think so.” They started walking towards the front office. Oliver was standing on the step outside the door with a cigarette at the corner of his mouth. The neighborhood behind the office rolled down a slight hill so they could see the sky’s heavy gray clouds turning violet over rooftops.

 “B just got here.” Oliver’s voice was tense like a thread held taut between strong fingers. His lips thinned as they pulled smoke from the end of the cigarette. He released it in a lingering stream above their heads.

 “Just now?” Ryan’s face danced with disbelief. “It’s seven.”

 “You are now on a schedule opposite the entire fucking rest of the world.” Oliver dropped a burning stub to the ground, flattened it under his shoe, and bent to pick it up and drop it in the bucket next to the door marked “Butts.” A gaining wind gathered beneath the low clouds and rushed down on them, whipping Oliver’s yellow hair in front of his face. The office door squealed in protest as someone pushed it out against the current.

 “If I wanted to deal with rappers, I would have gone to L.A.” Ariel stopped on the step and towered over them. His hair flounced about in the wind. A muffled thump of beating bass pumped from somewhere inside the walls Oliver leaned back against.

 “He’s nice enough,” Ryan offered. It was Ryan’s first night shift.

 “See how you feel about ‘nice’ in nine hours,” said Hannah.

 “All right.” Oliver swiped a distracted finger across the screen of his phone then slid it in his pocket. “All right. Get out of here. Go do something.”

 They broke off, Oliver disappearing through the office door and the other three heading back up the side of the building. The walls were a dark blue puckered plaster trimmed with black gutters. At its tallest points, with the southern sky breaking up between dusky clouds above it, it reminded Hannah of a fairy tale castle. Then the wall cut in to their right and left again, and they could see the glittering chandelier and the gentle tumble of velvet drapes in dim light through the vast window. They fought through another gust of wind to a door marked “F” as the wall jutted out again to meet them, and Ariel punched in four digits on the pad, its square little numbers glowing an eerie green. The bolt sucked itself in like a kid taking a quick breath before diving underwater, and they pushed through into a long hallway. They turned almost immediately to the right and through another door, up a staircase of darkly polished wood, another sharp corner, and the space opened up into a room, once meant as an artist lounge but now piled with packs of bottled water and rolls of paper towels. An old pinball machine stood in one corner, a layer of dust coating its glass surface and pale purple paint chipping off its legs. A sofa ran the length of the wall under the window and a low table, scratched and scuffed by feet resting on it, sat in front of it. A few chairs surrounded the table’s other three sides.

 If you looked out the window above the sofa you could see over the parking lot fence and across rooftops of houses and restaurants, all the way down the street to where the neighborhood turned to hills and, if you caught it right, the setting sun turned the grassy mounds to peaches and tangerines. Hannah liked to claim the seat directly across from the window and prop her feet up on the table. If someone was mixing loudly enough downstairs, she could feel the rhythmic strum of guitars in the cushion of the seat. People fell asleep almost daily in the nook of that room, but Hannah never did. She couldn’t sleep somewhere that cost so much money.

 “No one was in A today,” Ryan suggested, as though trying to cheer the place up. “So it’s clean.”

 “They should let us in there.” Ariel stretched his long legs over the cushions of the sofa and reclined with his fingers laced behind his head. “Just with a guitar or something. That’s what it should be like.”

 “Would they?” Ryan sat forward in his chair.

 “Ha. Interns recording? Then who would feed the animals and clean the cages?”

 They heard the door at the bottom of the stairs open and someone’s ascending footsteps. Ariel quietly sat up and Hannah lowered her feet to the floor. They glanced at each other. Della’s blonde head appeared.

 “E’s gone. If ya’ll can grab some water. Oliver said they were running low.”

 As they ran along the building and waited for Ryan to punch in the code next to the door, Hannah felt the first few sharp pellets of rain begin to pepper her bare neck and trickle down to soak into her shirt. As she filed into the room behind the others and turned to pull the door closed, she heard a sound like a bag of sugar tearing in half and spilling on to a tile floor; a burst as the sky ripped open and a hiss as the rain showered down in solid sheets. The blue of the buildings went blurry through the water. Someone was running across the parking lot with a jacket pulled up over his head. Hannah tugged at the massive soundproof door and turned into the warmth.

[universeinform-blog]

MAC Whirl Lipstick Is the Shade Your Makeup Bag Needs

New Post has been published on https://universeinform.com/2017/03/15/mac-whirl-lipstick-is-the-shade-your-makeup-bag-needs/

MAC Whirl Lipstick Is the Shade Your Makeup Bag Needs

The color: A matte dirty rose.

The backstory: Globally, MAC sells one lipstick each 2d, and of loads of sun shades available, Whirl is one of the most famous. After launching in 2015, it has become the second one-great-promoting shade—with Ruby Woo on the wide variety one spot.

Why professionals find it irresistible: “Whirl is a ton of crimson that would obviously arise in a truthful to medium-darkish pores and skin tone,” says MAC senior artist Regan Rabanal. “It is nearly like a purple latte. The lipstick works for anyone because of its depth and likeness to hues that naturally arise inside the skin. When used on deeper skin tones, it turns to a lighter neutral, purple color. ”

Amusing truth: The lip pencil version of Whirl is a Jenner circle of relatives favorite. In 2016, Kylie revealed that It’s one in every of her pass to lip liner sunglasses; in advance this yr, Caitlyn Jenner covered it in her second MAC series.

What our testers notion: Suki: “An exceptional ordinary colour—it lasts a clearly long time, and it fits my pores and skin tone actually properly.” Concord: “This almost suggests up as a nude tone in opposition to my skin, so I truly appreciate the subtlety of the coloration. It additionally has an amazing, easy texture—not chalky or chunky!—that glides on without problems. It also smells super. All around, It is a first-rate nude coloration with only a trace of shade to make it greater-special.” Sophia: “I like this color on my light pores and skin. It is an easy-to-put-on neutral that can be worn every day without feeling too dressed up. Once in a while shades like this could look a chunk too ’90s and gray, but this one has a nice warm undertone that softens the coloration. It can be gently dabbed on for a hint of coloration or fully applied for a stronger appearance.”

Recording Fleetwood Mac’s “Tusk”: The largest Recording Studio Ever

The title track to Fleetwood Mac’s 1979 album “Tusk” improved from a brief fragment of the song into a Goliath that wished a baseball stadium to report.

The tune itself started as nothing extra than a brief 4-bar riff that Lindsey Buckingham had invented for Fleetwood Mac to play even as they had been being introduced after the band had gone onstage and the lighting had long past down but before they started their starting variety. The riff doubled as an immediate sound take a look at in order that manufacturer Richard Dashut ought to set volume degrees right immediately. At Mick Fleetwood’s request, Dashut prepared a twenty-2nd tape loop of the riff.

The inspiration for the tune definitely got here from Barfleur, a seacoast village in Normandy in northwest France that Mick Fleetwood had visited the preceding summer season in 1978. One Sunday morning he became woken up (at the same time as laid low with an extreme hangover) through joyous tune a nearby village brass band was playing as a part of a pageant honoring a neighborhood saint. Fleetwood threw open his home windows and saw all people in the metropolis from children to vintage peasants decked out in vegetation and celebrating. Recalling this incident Fleetwood was moved to recreate this song on top of their “riff”.

The best problem turned into wherein to locate both a marching band and a recording studio that had been massive sufficient. Fleetwood, in an in shape of hubris, proposed the use of Dodger Stadium. He becomes in success: Judy Wong, a longtime pal of the band, knew someone there. The role of the village band could, in the end, be played through AmericaC.’s Trojan Marching Band. The cease result turned into that some weeks later the song was recorded at no less than an empty Dodger Stadium, web hosting Fleetwood Mac, a film team and the largest wide variety of musicians ever to carry out on a single up till that point, setting a report.

Because of “Tusk”, the album, went platinum the Trojan Marching Band earned a platinum disc. Fleetwood, Buckingham, and Nicks supplied it to them on October four, 1980 all through a sport at the l. A. Memorial Coliseum. The stands were now not empty this time.

If you watch the video you’ll additionally see Stevie Nicks demonstrating her little-known baton twirling competencies. you may additionally see only four of the five individuals of the band. It’s Because John McVie had already performed his bass part of the track and set out with some buddies on a boat certain for Hawaii (his “role” might be provided by using a lifestyles-sized cardboard cut-out). McVie in all likelihood wished that he had stayed in L. A. on account that his boat was rammed by means of a whale on its manner from Hawaii to Tahiti.

Fleetwood Mac’s “Tusk” turned into considered a “failure” through Warner Brothers, even though it offered 4 hundreds of thousands of copies. some failure! The album is a wealthy college which, as some distance as I’m involved, become worth every nickel of the $a million plus it took to create.

How-To: The ideal Lipstick Software

Lipstick Application isn’t always as easy as swiping in your favorite coloration! Here you’ll locate specific instructions and makeup ideas to stroll you thru the complete system.

First, pre-Utility: You’re clearly going to need to exfoliate your lips, specifically in case you plan on wearing a matte lipstick. One manner to exfoliate your lips is to rub them with a toothbrush or a damp towel for several seconds. An alternative is to buy or make a sugar scrub. To make a sugar scrub, definitely use one component sugar and one component oil (jojoba oil, olive oil, coconut oil, or even honey are all alternatives) and use it on the lips. After the usage of the sugar scrub or another exfoliating approach, observe a lip balm. Allow it take a seat for as a minimum a few minutes.

Earlier than applying your lipstick, dispose of any extra lip balm. Your lips need to now sense clean and moisturized. in case you need to keep away from staining your lips or need to convey out the proper color of the lipstick, you may observe basis over your lips. in case you pick out to do that, smile while applying the muse on your lips–it’s going to make sure you cool all the crevices and depart an easy slate for lip colour.

Subsequent, you may use lip liner in case you’d like. It’s encouraged as it makes lipstick ultimate longer and stays in place. For a formidable lipstick color, pick a lip liner that is barely darker than the color of the lipstick. For a greater impartial look, fit your lip liner in your lip shade. While making use of lip liner, you need to first define your lips Earlier than filling them in. you could additionally “over-line” or “underneath-line” your lips to change their form if you’d like.

Ultimately, applying lipstick. Start within the middle of your lips and paintings your way out. you can use the blanketed applicator or a lip brush if you sense you need extra precision. some other method is to use lipstick on your bottom lip, press your lips collectively to transfer the product, and then fill on your cupid’s bow for a really perfect Software.

in case you’re the use of a cream lipstick, you may want to feature the 2nd coat. in case you’re using a matte lipstick, use your first-class judgment–a few matte lipsticks gets cakey if you upload a 2nd coat.

Finally, for brought staying electricity, lightly blot your lipstick with blotting paper. Leaving the blotting paper to your lips, easy some pressed powder over it to really lock to your lip color

Importance of Lamp Sunglasses

Further to work, the home is where human beings spend maximum in their time. This will be inside the bedroom or dwelling room. Anywhere it’s far, you need something that is going to compliment the room and display it off in a stylish fashion. You may do that by using renovating which may be time eating. Or in case you want to do something that is short and easy on the way to modify the mood of your environment then You may select the clip on lamp Sunglasses. In latest busy global nobody wants to be spending hours becoming a color. You really need to take the time in finding lamp Sunglasses for your private home and never underestimate their Significance.

Many owners have a tendency to miss the fact that an excessive great shade can convey an excellent appearance and sense to a room. You need to analyze but and make certain the only you choose offers off the proper amount of mild. After returning from a tough day at paintings you really want to sense comfy in your home and a super coloration can do this. The excellent ones will emit simply sufficient mild that isn’t always too vivid and nonetheless lighting up the room. They will cast a softer extra diffused light is not intense on your eyes and pretty enjoyable.

In regards to lamp Sunglasses to buy one such type which might be an excellent option are glass lamp Sunglasses. They address many lighting fixtures problems and are fantastically cheaper for what you get. They’re possibly a chunk extra money than ordinary Shades but as far as the advantages go They are virtually well worth it. Those glass lamp Shades are superb at diffusing the light and ensuring that isn’t that brilliant and gives off a nice stupid light. The mood of any room can appreciably be changed with the usage of the glass coloration in any color you wish.

There are a giant amount of designs that may be determined for glass lamp Sunglasses. The maximum popular ones around nowadays are the storm glass Sun shades and the gasoline glass Shades. The storm types are noted for his or her profile that is like an hour glass in look. It bulges on the waist and then gradually gets narrower as it heads up to the neck. The fuel kind hails back a few years and is extremely conventional. Both of those two are very fashionable and fashionable round your property and could genuinely draw a few interest from guests. Additionally, They will provide up a secure atmosphere to loosen up and unwind in.