#*completememe

Send me a ✧ and I’ll introduce you to one of all the muses I ever had.

           She was sure she looked like a sight —            covered in grime, and dried-black blood crusted into her fingernails.            The rest had been taken care of directly after their little battle,            but there was always a few spots that Sango seemed to forget            about for some reason, and her nails was always one of them.            Picking at the flakes beginning to come off, she sighed slightly,            ignoring the heaviness of her limbs.

                        Showing weakness was never something she did willingly -                         even within the company of friends and comrades.                         It was practically drilled into her brain at the start of a young age,                         the women of her village perfect picture examples of what a                         strong soul should look like; and she had always admired them.                         Admired their stature and composure, and ability to look                         past any pain and just focus…

                Sango had been focusing for a decent amount of time, though,                 and as she helped pick up the items that were needed to have a                 complete and satisfactory spa treatment, she decided that it would                be alright to let her guard down for just a little bit.                 She could put her focus elsewhere —                 and that focus consisted of hot water to soothe the aches in her muscles                 and clean away the dirt and sweat caked on her body.                 Plus, she was sure she smell a little foul.

        (   all in a days work when one is fighting demons, among other things.   )

Send me a ✧ and I’ll introduce you to one of all the muses I ever had.

   There was something about the light that lit up peoples' eyes when he did his tricks --   it gave him the same rush it had given him on the streets of his hometown, pulling   off his first card trick for a group of tourists who tipped him ten dollars for something   that he had been attempting to master for months.   It had only been ten dollars, but it was the kick start to his addiction to magic.

                     It was only years later that he discovered how to make                     a living off of it -- and to use it to his advantage.                     The lights in their eyes were always refreshing, but they                     didn't always pay the bills, and some people were just                     sticklers with their cash. So Jack had to get creative with                     his tricks ------ and perhaps he went above and beyond                     in the creative department; but he was living his life well.

          (   and that's all that really mattered in the end, really   )

  "Hey!"

          Grin spreading across his face as he caught the attention          of the small crowd passing by, looks of question on their faces          before the jump back in shock at the cards he was whipping           out of no where, the expected gasps of awe following just           seconds after as he captured their attention.

Send me a ✧ and I’ll introduce you to one of all the muses I ever had.

   The smile that begins to spread across her lips could be considered — deadly.   Or, some would say, not to be messed with. It was a smile that   wasn’t truly a smile. There was no emotion of happiness beginning   to spread through her — the closest thing to that she would be feeling   would be satisfaction; but even that was not yet achievable.   Business was business, and the stranger was making things   unbearably and ridiculously difficult —— she hadn’t had someone   of this specific sort in a long while, and that person hadn’t lasted very   long regardless. God bless his conniving and greedy soul, though.

        There was only one soul within the room right now that was        allowed to be such a monster — and it was certainly not this man’s.

                    No, this smile was one of restrained aggression — but she                    could feel that control beginning to slowly slip away the more                    the other refused to give her what she wanted.                    Humming lightly, she took an elegant step around the chair                    he was tied to, dragging the gun along his face, letting the                    cool metal of it leave promises as it passed —— before letting                    it settle against a temple, watching as sweat began to bead aroudn it.                    He did his best to remain calm, but Bela could see the twitches in his                    face. He was a fool just like the rest of them; and she’d get                    what she came here for, even if it meant taking a life while there.

        (   it wasn’t as if she’d never pulled the trigger before   )

  “Oh, Mr. Khabensky—— You’re making things so difficult for me, dear.”

Send me a ✧ and I’ll introduce you to one of all the muses I ever had.

   God, these people were idiots.   Actually, scratch that — idiots felt like a compliment at this point.   She wasn’t a big fan of compliments, especially not with   this certain group of douchebags who felt the need to take   charge in a situation where they’d literally be skewered and used   as a pretty little table top decoration if a Witch got their hands   on them —— of course, they seemed to think otherwise.   They always thought otherwise, didn’t they?

                     (   Men   )

           Patience wearing thin, a heavy breath slip through her lips,           and Gretel’s eyes finally roll as she reaches back to           bring the heavy bow out from behind her back, head           cocked to the side as she aims the tip of the arrowhead           directly on the main douchebags forehead, letting the           metal dig in a little — pierce the skin — until a small bead           of crimson blood began to paint the tip of her weapon.

   ”Lemme make something real clear to you——”

            “Get in my way, and I’ll not only shoot this arrow             straight through your thick fucking skull, but I’ll             aim another so far into your ass you’ll never be able             to walk straight for the rest of your god damn miserable excuse of a life—

Send me a ✧ and I’ll introduce you to one of all the muses I ever had.

   Green eyes couldn’t help but raise in question at the other,   brows following in suit when they took the empty seat   that was right across from her — as if it was completely normal.   When, in fact, it was the exact opposite of normal,   and Lily felt an expression - made specifically for this person -   begin to creep upon her face despite the overwhelming    urge to hide it away and remain stoic within the company of a certain James Potter.

                      He was an absolute menace. A prat.                      Her guard was up without much question —                      because why would he ever decide to join                      her in the library of all places.                      Despite his annoying tendencies and lack                      of ability to take things seriously — she was                      aware of the brain that he did happen to have.

      It was just always a rare occasion when he chose to actually use it.      Which — at the moment — didn’t make much sense.

              “————— Potter.”

Send a ✺ for my muse’s reaction to yours hitting mine out of anger.

His dull look settled over Nagisa when he felt the other’s hit to his shoulder, an expression that gave way to how unappreciative he was of that specific gesture very evident. Haru hadn’t even said anything rude —

                   ( rude to him, at least, but apparently not agreeing to icecream was a crime when it came to Nagisa )

          When someone asks what he’d prefer to eat and he replies with the obvious answer of mackerel ( when does he ever not want that to be honest ) though, it should just be all around accepted and either ignored or decided on since nobody seemed to be capable of making out right decisions right from the start - that everyone could agree on, at least. Physical violence was not necessary.

                 And in his defense; mackerel was always an option in his world.

Send a ✺ for my muse’s reaction to yours hitting mine out of anger.

He wasn’t quite sure why he didn’t expect it ———

               with their record it should’ve been a given that at one point,                                   one of them was going to snap.

    ( getting under each other’s skin, pissing each other off, the competitive streak that Rin seemed to stir in him that nobody else had ever managed to succeed in doing )

    The problem was that Haruka hadn’t expected it. He hadn’t seen it coming, despite common sense seemingly stating that he should’ve — but he hadn’t. Even when the words that had brought the angered reaction left his mouth he couldn't of ever expected it. And the moment he felt the force hit him, causing his head to snap to the side, reddened skin flaring on the swell of his cheeks - the moment the stinging sensation began to settle in and burn and allowed the reality of what happened to settle alongside it ( with the promise of a bruise that was bound to appear ) ——

                       Haru’s breath had caught in his throat from the shock of it.

    Normally passive eyes were widened, giving away the emotions that he would’ve casually hidden away from speculative eyes if it were anything other than what this was; but this one in particular was hard to hide. Shoving was one thing——— but this was… 

                  Different.     ( this wasn’t them... but maybe he had deserved it. )

      ❝ Sorry. ❞

Send me “I trusted you!” to see how my character would betray yours.  

   It was silent save for crickets.

        Normally the consistent chirping would’ve distracted him — but not this time. This time he was focused, breath held, and hidden from the others. You know the whole saying —

                                               [ Out of sight. Out of mind. ]

    They were all too focused on the mission ahead to really be thinking about him anyway. His presence had been acknowledged, but other than that, he had faded into the background willingly and watched silently as they figured things out and made a team plan. He could hear their voices in his ear, talking through things and making sure they were all ready and prepared.

               They were making such a big deal about it.

                             Sam wished he could empathize with them. Almost wished he could join in with them, too, but he knew that he couldn’t. That wasn’t his job. That wasn’t what he was supposed to do right now —

    What he was supposed to do was make things worse, actually.

    Not that they realized that…

                                                            yet. 

    As if he had been reading his mind, Sam hears Stiles’ voice in his ear, name being called out in question - as if seeing if his twin brother was still around. His lips pressed together, breathing slowing a bit as his eyes narrowed in on the scene before him. He was still out of sight. They wouldn’t know he was there until he wanted them to know — and he stayed silent even as Stiles repeated his name, Scott’s voice coming in a second later to ask what his twin had said.

             ”Oh— it’s nothin’, dude. Just seein’ if Sammy was still here. I don’t know where he went…”

             ”Why don’t you go look and see?”

             ”Nah, man.”

    Swallowing thickly, it was like his vision blurred slightly, heart beginning to pound as he turned and moved forward just the littlest bit to get a better look at where they all were. They hadn’t moved away from each other - strong believers in having each other’s backs and Sam could definitely understand why. In a world like this, you had to watch your back at all times. There was no telling what could even be around the corner. Or hiding in the shadows.

             ”Are you sure, man? I could’ve sworn—”

             ”Scott. Seriously. It’s not a big deal.”

             ”… Alright, man. Whatever you say.”

    His brother was an idiot.

             An idiot who was about to learn a lesson — Sammy he might be, but underestimating him? Thinking he wasn’t to be worried over? Not going on red alert and being on your guard the moment your twin brother (partner in crime since birth, brain twin, et cetera) went MIA? Stupid. So fucking stupid. He should’ve known better. Should have known that there was a downfall to all of this —

    He wasted no time after a beat of silence, rushing forward with urgency —

                           Target: Locked.

             ”Fuck! A Hunter! What the— Sammy?!”

    His brother’s incredulous tone makes a cackle rip from his throat, his silence broken as he watched the screen of his television with unabashed glee. He listens as Stiles continues to curse him through the headphones snugly fit on his head, and Sam could only continue to laugh and retreat back before the rest of the team could come and kill him in revenge.

                The online multiplayer for Left 4 Dead was awesome.

                Especially when it put you as a monster instead.

                                 Hunters were badass, man.

             ”Fuck you, Sam! What the hell?! How could you do that to me?!”

             ”Opposing sides, bro. I had to.”

             ”You could’ve easily attacked Scott! Or Derek! Or anyone else except me.”

    Sam can hear a few protests in his headphones - Scott and maybe Derek? - but he ignores them in favor of continuing to piss off his brother.

                              “No… No I really couldn’t of.”

    A smirk edges onto his lips as he listens to the ruckus coming from the living room downstairs where his brother had been playing. 

             ”I fucking trusted you, dude.”