#I really like the result of this tbh its more than just a doodle

[this-should-do]

i want to know more about your less developed janitor half life oc because i too have a half life janitor oc

janitor oc havers unite !!!! 🤝🤝🤝🤝🤝🤝

they have no name as of yet (and im open to suggestions lol) but this is a quick doodle page i made for them just for this ask

character thoughts and musings below the cut

anyways, they are very bare bones of a concept, but im thinking this person in my brain is soooooo gossipy, cuz like whats the fun of working in a top secret facility if you dont get to be gossipy about it, like they are so invisible to most people who work there, but boy do they have a lot of friends out of the facility who they talk to and go visit often and i think they have absolutely broken their nda so many times but thats okay they deserve it for how little they get paid and how hard they work.

but tbh i think they dont mind the pay too bad (lying they actually want more pay so much lmao), they appreciate cleaning as it helps manage their compulsive cleaning inclinations,theyre un diagnosed ocd i think but they sure know they Need to clean and getting to indulge it day in a day out as a job is better than suffering constantly trying to do another job and being distressed by grime and germs but it also limits how much they can spend cleaning on one thing which helps them manage their compulsions at home as well thru repeated exposure, its not a cure all obvs but it helps and can be stressful in its own right on somedays. its a great people watching job too if ur happy only being able to listen more than half the time

they specifically got a job at black mesa tho becuz they love the concept of science but they never really got to learn any of it formally (not to say they didnt try but the combo of ocd affecting their mental health, in general struggling with math without an extra hand to grasp it initially, and lack of money money preventing them from attending college, really stopped them from being able to pursue the interest) they really like the all the thought that goes into experiments and analyzing the information, and the cool things that result from it, and more superficilaly they like the look of the machines and the big chunky buttons and the charts and hearing the lingo heavy chatter of people who know what all of it means, they probably have a few magazine subscriptions to science magazines, such as popular science, popular scientist (they think its cool he could feasibly see kleiner at thier work place after seeing him on teh cover of the magazine), and science news

#ask #ponderingradioactivedecay #oc

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: I

“And I can't wait another minute

I can't take the look she's giving

Your body rocking, keep me up all night

One in a million, my lucky strike.”

— Lucky Strike, Maroon 5

A/N: this idea started as just random concept drabbling between leyla @sunflowervolvimp3​ and i and we never really thought it would amount to anything tbh!! but as we started putting more and more into the plot and characters, we made the spontaneous decision to make it a full on, multi-chaptered collab fic! we have so many ideas planned and so much to elaborate on and we’re just so mfing excited to share it with you guys :’) any and all feedback is greatly appreciated 💌 we hope you enjoy the first part and that you fall in love with this stupid emotionally unavailable moron the way we did! happy reading!!

andrea’s askbox : leyla’s askbox : ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : 

word count: 17.2k

content/warnings: vampire!harry being a lowkey asshole while downing straight tequila like a psycho, getting to know The Crew, Mitch being the iconic legend he is, mentions of smut, and Harry working his immortal charm on an unsuspecting human girl with a peculiar scent and intriguing personality

///

Harry hates clubs. 

In his two hundred years of life, through many trials and tribulations, through tricky scenarios and annoying encounters, through thousands of unappealing circumstances and patience-testing events, he doesn’t think anything quite compares to the crowded, nerve-wracking experience that is a Los Angeles club on a Friday night during peak hours. 

According to his wise, humble opinion, it’s absolutely fucking petrifiying. He’d rather swallow a stake than have to spend hours in a dimly lit room with synthetic smoke choking his lungs, half-conscious humans stumbling around into him, and the stench of sweaty bodies mixed with liquor fumes, alongside the faint yet unmistakable waft of vomit. 

Yeah, Harry would definitely rather eat a red oak spear than have to shoulder that.

Despite his intense hatred for this Californian city during its after-hours, he can’t deny that he fits right into the scene perfectly. Decades of grooming and practice have made him a prime candidate for the fast-paced characteristics that come with the party nightlife. 

Fitting into these aspects aren’t something he had learned willingly; he didn’t really have a choice on the matter, considering his entire existence depends on mortals immature tendencies to get properly shit-faced and make stupid decisions in tightly-packed glorified bars. Harry never understood that— how a fog machine, strobe lights, and an undergrad amateur DJ could ever seem more appealing than the quiet, stable ambiance of a semi-formal bar. How deranged do people have to be to actually enjoy strangers spilling alcohol on them while attempting to shag someone else two feet away on the dance floor? 

Whenever he dwells too much on that thought, he gets a spiking migraine. After this long, Harry’s just come to terms with the fact that humans are regressing as a species. His conclusion is a bit cynical, perhaps, but hardly difficult to accept. One look at a news outlet provides enough proof to launch an Ivy League research project on the matter. 

He really shouldn’t be complaining, however, because the combination of overflowed close quarters and dampened inhibitions makes it the ideal hunting ground. Picking up a living blood bag at a club is basically as easy as walking through a vineyard and plucking grapes right off the stems. It’s practical, it’s fool-proof, and if he plays his cards right, he gets to feed and gets his more intimate needs tailored (a combo that he and his friends refer to as Laid and Drained).  

So regardless of his distaste towards clubs and their eager inhabitants, Harry had learned to mold his persona to fit the bill, making himself as approachable and desirable as possible. His life literally hangs in the balance; he’d put up with throngs of drunk sorority girls and their affinity for shitty perfumed drinks if it means avoiding desiccation. 

It’s not like it’s hard. All Harry has to do is make himself look more appealing than the other hundred men milling around the establishment, which— if he’s being brutally honest— isn’t that challenging. The moral, physical, and ethical standards of men have dropped frighteningly low since his time. Most of the ones that creep around clubs are overconfident, overzealous, boundary-lacking douchebags who think they’re entitled to a woman’s attention, and therefore make complete, utter fools of themselves in the process of trying to court one into their pants. Buying a girl one Sex On The Beach and dry-humping to Daft Punk isn’t the way to convince her to come home with you. 

Harry has developed his own guidelines and tactics for securing a nightly bedroom companion, and his ideas have been working wonders for him for decades now. 

The first and foremost rule is to clean up nicely. Personal appearance is everything. Humans are visual creatures; they build first impressions solely based on outward attraction. That trait is enhanced the higher their blood alcohol content rises. The drunker someone gets, the shallower they become, and it’s Harry’s job to work that to his advantage. And at the risk of sounding shallow himself, he thinks he does pretty alright in that department. 

Especially tonight, present in all the elements of his physique. He’s clad in a pair of high-waisted tan trousers that have been ironed to a crisp, his fitted graphic tee tucked neatly along his waistband beneath his black leather belt. His t-shirt is probably his favorite part of the entire look. It’s a baby blue sturdy cotton number with pastel yellow detailing along the cuffs and collar and a giant cartoon puppy in a striped bowtie taking up its center, smiling cheekily at the onlooker. Arranged around the doodle in faded Times New Roman bubble letters are the words WE’RE IN THE SHIT. 

Harry loves the irony of the article— the innocence of the drawing juxtaposed by the crude message. The piece is a conversation-starter— people almost always comment on it— and that’s exactly what he needs. Something to draw attention to himself and shadow all the other men. Something that shows he has a personality; that he has taste and a good sense of humor and isn’t just another walking genital. Plus, what person doesn’t enjoy a funny little contradiction, especially when it’s this cute?

On top of his graphic top, he’s wearing a tartan cropped blazer (open, of course) with a creme background and royal blue lines. The hem ends at the bottom of his ribs, exactly where his pants begin, and the jacket's hand-sewn buttons and strap detailings show that it's an expensive garment. It shows that he puts money and effort into how he looks, which is something anyone would appreciate when scoping for a possible hookup.

Harry’s shoes are the most casual factor of his fit. They’re a pair of light yellow Vans that match the collar of his tee. They’re plain, but he keeps them clean and they tie the whole look together without a hitch.

Accessories are everything, as well. Aside from the pearls arranged around his prominent collarbones, the gold-dipped cross hanging from a delicate chain around his neck, and the matching dangling cross earring on his right earlobe (again, he adores irony), he’s sporting a plethora of chunky rings on his hands, each unique and effortlessly complimenting his appearance. On his left hand, his index finger dots a ruby jewel embedded into a thick rusted band, another large metal one with dancing bears on his middle, and two clunky golden letters on his last two digits— his initials, HS. On his opposite hand, he has a medium-width plated ring on his middle finger with peace engraved along its rounded edge, an elegant lionhead number with an amethyst stone snug in its mouth, and along his pinky is a decently-sized opal set into a delicate polished frame. 

His two last rings are the most important of all. The lionhead is his daylight ring, which he hasn’t taken off since he transitioned. It keeps him from bursting into flames everytime the sun hits his skin. The opal was his mother’s, and it was her favorite. 

Harry’s attire is something he’s immensely proud of, even though a good amount of people deem him eccentric in the eyes of modern masculinity. He couldn’t give less of a shit. With his lightly tanned skin, alluring cologne and lacquered nails, his shirt stretching across the defined muscles of his chest and stomach, his broad shoulders and tapering waist, his thick thighs, sharp jaw, jade eyes, loosely tousled chestnut curls, and the vast array of dark ink littering his arms...

He looks good and he knows it. And all the people whose gazes glue to him as he passes by know it, too. Especially a random group of young women in line, who ogle at him shamelessly as he casually strolls past. He treats them to a sly wink, an irresistible dimpled smile, and a soft, cheeky greeting of, “Ladies.”

He gets off on the way they swoon at his refined English accent, giggling and waving. 

The only other component Harry has for succeeding in the club environment is simple, but it’s important: Don’t seduce, romanticize. 

Anyone— even inebriated idiots— can try and seduce a woman. And if she’s had enough tequila shots to cloud her thoughts, they just might succeed. But only a real man can romanticize a girl, and it yields way better results. 

Females are an emotional sect (Harry says that with zero misogyny; it’s just a scientific fact and he actually praises it), which means that if you entertain their interests and fluff their egos, they are bound to fall right into the palm of your hand. It changes the game completely because then they don’t feel that they have to pleasure you, they want to. They pursue the guy who flirts without being too vulgar, who appreciates and acknowledges their efforts, and who can go head-to-head with their wit by carrying unforced banter. They chase after him because he’s showing genuine kindness rather than just sexual interests and if he’s that attentive on the getting-to-know-you front, one can only imagine how skilled he could be in other bases. Chatting up a girl the right way, with patience and courtesy, builds credibility and prowess. And as a thank you, they’re usually more than willing to pay special attention to your needs, as well. 

Thus, romanticizing is always the expert move. So, yes, Harry detests clubs and the disaster that is adult recreation. But he’s fucking amazing at playing it to his favor. He’s great at calculating everything down to the smallest detail and he’s going to piggy-back on those skills for the rest of eternity. He’s so good at what he hates that his closest friends have anointed him the title of Walking Paradox. He’s more than happy to keep it. 

All of these thoughts are circulating around his skull, hyping him up for the game ahead as Harry and his friend group walk up to the bouncer at the entrance of the club they had chosen for the night, faint stars twinkling in the dark sky as the sounds and lights of the city fall away into background static. 

They cruise by the long line of people, hearing sounds of disagreement and grumbling coming from the other patrons waiting to get in. Harry casually tucks his large hands into the pockets of his light brown slacks as he pulls up in front of the burly bald man, who is wearing a black shirt with the club’s name printed in neon letters. The security guard is at least five inches taller than him, overswollen biceps and pectoral muscles rippling under the flimsy material of his work outfit as he crosses his arms over his barreled chest, cocking a single thick eyebrow at the seemingly young vampire. 

Harry delivers a good-natured smile up at the employee, despite the man’s obvious begrudging disbelief at what he is about to try and do. His friends chat quietly behind him, uninterested in what is happening; after years of being acquainted, they know that Harry is going to get exactly what he wants. He always does. 

He’s the best of them, that much is obvious. Not only when it comes to his experience with persuading sexual partners and getting himself a decent dinner, but he’s the best at convincing just about anyone to do anything, neutral of gender. He’s the second oldest of the crew, yet he seems to have the most knowledge and practice under his belt; his easygoing charisma, undeniable good looks, and dazzling smile could sway even the most stubborn of souls. Frankly, he’s so successful in getting his way that no one cares to try and argue for the leader position. Not when they can just sit back and let Harry do all the work. 

“Good evening.” Harry’s deep voice chimes giddily in the direction of the bouncer, his accent particularly heavy for no real reason. “How you doing tonight, mate?”

The guard— whose name tag reads Brock and Harry has to actively stop himself from snorting at how fitting the name is for such a brick of a human— looks down at him with a stony expression, voice flat. “I’m good.”

“Well, that’s great to hear!” The curly-haired boy’s simper widens, dimples popping into place as he skates into his next question with dramatic friendliness. “Haven’t had anyone cause you any trouble tonight, have you?”

Brock blinks once, attitude remaining coldly indifferent even in the face of Harry’s cheeriness. His words, however, are snipped and pointed. “Not yet.”

“I’m guessing you’d like to keep it that way.” The young man comments sympathetically, nodding his head along with the worker. “Totally understandable.” 

“Good.” The employee remarks in the same detached tone, shifting on his feet, obviously growing uncomfortable and irritated with the conversation. “So I’m guessing that means you know you have to get in line.” 

Harry glances over his shoulder at the lengthy expanse of people gathered along the side of the building, a light wind filtering through his freshly-shampooed ringlets as he studies the way the bright sign on top of the club casts alternating rainbow colors across the crowd. 

He makes a disapproving sound by sucking at his teeth, lulling his sight back onto the guard. “I don’t know, man. At this rate, I feel like by the time we get to the front of the line, it’ll be last call.”

“Maybe.” Brock shrugs offhandedly. “It is what it is, right? Fair’s fair.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Harry returns his gesture, but his posture shows no intention of moving, the corners of his rose lip set in a knowing smirk. “But since you’ve been having a good night, do you think you could find it in yourself to just let us through? We’d greatly appreciate it.” 

The bouncer’s face hardens, any shred of professional amiability washing out of his defined features. “I don’t think so.” 

The vampire’s shoulders sag in exaggerated disappointment. “Are you sure? It’s just five of us. Don’t think we’ll do much damage. Right, guys?”

Harry glimpses over his back to his friends, who let their conversation falter for a moment to throw out a chorus of half-assed agreements, trying to keep themselves from snickering. 

“We promise we won’t cause any problems.” Xander speaks up, jutting his chin encouragingly at the man as his lips twitch slyly. He lifts one of his hands, the smallest finger sticking out stiffly and wiggling around. “Pinky swear.” 

The rest of the group bursts into a round of light laughter, causing Harry to release a few airy giggles of his own.  

Xander looks over at Niall, raising his eyebrows and quipping in an innocent manner. “Right, Ni? No funny business tonight. That means no climbing onto the bar again and stripping down to your socks.” 

“That happened one time!” Niall exclaims incredulously, socking the taller boy in the shoulder as the others laugh harder than before, his blue eyes narrowed and face pinched. “Once! And it was only ‘cause Harry challenged me to a tequila shot contest.”

The Irish vampire’s accented voice drops darkly as he reminisces. “Fuckin’ hate tequila. Makes me act like a moron.” 

“As if you’re not one already.” Mitch pipes up in his usual soft dialect, chuckling as he ducks away from Niall’s vengeful fist. 

Harry cranes back to face Brock, thumb playing with his daylight ring as his hands stay relaxed inside his trousers. He shrugs one shoulder easily for emphasis. “See? You can let us through. We pinky swore.” 

The entire charade seems to have only infuriated the security guard more than before, his brows now fully furrowed and a deep, unamused frown etched across his previously pursed lips. His voice is on edge with barely controlled anger. “I’m not putting up with any shit. If you want in, go to the back of the line. If not, leave.”

Harry sighs grandly in defeat, head shaking slightly. “Guess I’ll just have to go the other route, then.”

The creature takes a step forward towards the employee, close enough that their chests almost press together. The bulky man stands his ground, though there’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes at seeing the smaller boy make such a bold move. 

“What the f—?”

Harry locks gazes with Brock, pupils dilating to twice their size, the usual emerald shade of his irises flickering a haunting red and looking sinister in the buttery light of the street lamps. Horror breaks across the worker’s face, the ability to form coherent sentences disappearing from his demeanor. Harry’s heightened senses can hear the way his heartbeat spikes, blood instinctively rushing into his chest as a response to the adrenaline materializing in his veins. The activation of human’s fight-or-flight modes is always so oddly pleasurable. Just feeling how they react so drastically makes Harry’s fangs tingle with longing. Fear is a good condiment, he’s learned; it gives blood’s usual metallic flavor a certain twang.

But at the moment, a beverage from this specific tap isn’t the one Harry has in mind. He has his interests set on something much tangier and full-bodied; maybe Casamigos golden tequila, or Don Julio's Blanco. Preferably mixed with a young office secretary or a Bath and Body Works employee instead of lemon and salt. 

All in all, Brock is just collateral for a much bigger prize, which lies behind the roped off area he holds dominion over. It’s Harry’s job to break that dam. 

Before the large man can fully react, the vampire begins working his compulsion strategy, tone coming out level and soothing, thick with persuasion and teetering along a sleepy undercurrent. “You’re going to let us through, and you’re going to forget we ever met.”

The guard’s pupils enlarge to match Harry’s, the look of utter terror on his face melting right off. His features go slack as the monster’s magical influence works its way through his brain, coating every neuron and bending him to the deliverer’s will. The man reaches over and removes the velvet rope blocking the group’s path, stepping off to the side obediently with an empty expression present across his appearance. 

The leader of the group smiles just as brightly as he had the second he’d walked up to the door. He passes by the worker, giving him a hard pat on the shoulder and feeling the muscular man strain under his supernatural strength. “Thank you very much. You have a nice night, Brock.” 

Harry’s friends follow behind him, echoing his parting message and sharing a collective chortle.  

The second the group dives past the frame of the club entrance, the whole ambiance of the atmosphere changes. Harry walks across the top ledge of the establishment, coming to a halt at the railing that overlooks the main level of the club, his inhumanly sharp eyes bouncing around all the corners of the building to construct some type of familiar layout in his head. Amidst the blinking lights, thick artificial smoke, and swaying bodies, his keen instincts sketch a mental image for tonight’s hunting ground. 

The bar is at the far left corner of the club, squared off and taking up a large chunk of the colorful tiled dance floor. The music station extends across the entire wall at the opposite end of the tavern, stocked with massive speakers and a professional turntable. Harry’s brows jump in mild surprise— it’s not every day that a club puts so much effort into their mixer. 

The animated dancing area is packed with people, the crowd all jumping and grinding to the beat of the bass, moving as one large mass while the rotating strobe lights hang from the cavernous ceiling, bathing their moving silhouettes in neon reds, drunken blues, groggy purples, and electric yellows. The dim surroundings and heavy fog make all the hues more intense, giving the endless party that timeless quality which people tend to enjoy about nightlife. It’s the night to remember effect that movies and shows always hyperbolize; he thinks this way because he’s well aware that not even a third of these people are sober enough to know what the fuck they’re doing, let alone recall it the following day. It’s comically ironic, really. 

But Harry profits off that liquor amnesia, so he brushes away his sardonic skepticism for the time being, settling his lean forearms onto the metal railing that lines the second story of the venue, which is meant to keep shit-faced customers from creating a messy lawsuit. He carefully absorbs the grandeur of it all, leaning his weight forward with a detached sigh, already flickering through the mental menu of his favorite drinks that he has expertly memorized. 

He’s in the process of choosing between a Manhattan— it isn’t a very complicated drink, which is exactly what he’s looking for; something simple and strong— or just straight tequila in a glass when he suddenly feels a familiar presence arrange itself beside him, bumping his shoulder playfully with their own.

Harry snaps out of his recipe retrieval, eyes casting to the side to land on his best friend of almost a century. He cocks an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for the thin, bearded man to make the first move towards conversation.

“You’re a real dick, y’know that?” 

The green-eyed vampire sputters into spontaneous laughter, the edges of his eyes crinkling as the small pits in his cheeks jolt awake. His tone is humorous and full of fake insult for the hell of the joke. “Wow, alright. So I get us into the club that you chose and that makes me a prick? Good to know. You can handle the muscle next time, then, if you’re gonna talk shit.”

Mitch cracks a gentle jesting grin, which is very on brand for him. He doesn’t seem like much, with his skinny, lanky frame, delicate features, shoulder-length hair, and somewhat scraggly stubble. He’s quiet, reserved, and hardly engages with anyone outside of their immediate group. He’s always been that way for as long as Harry could remember. 

When they had met back in 1924 at a speakeasy in New York, Mitch had given off a mysterious vibe that Harry had found amusing and intriguing. His slightly sickly appearance and distant persona made the younger vampire want to get to know him better; it was just so peculiar that this seemingly impassive man was working at an illegal bar as a live musician. One would think that a performer would have to display an engaging character to keep a loyal audience, but Mitch had been all the talk of the underground despite his unemotional coolness. It was startlingly unorthodox and Harry just had to know more. 

Therefore, with a bit of help from his convincing supernatural abilities, he’d secured a spot as the black market club’s leading vocalist. He wasn’t anything worth a Grammy, but he could keep his singing in tune and follow Mitch’s guitar rhythms easily enough, all thanks to his limited experience with piano. He fit right in. 

From the first show they had put on together, it was like they had known one another in a different lifetime. They clicked so flawlessly it was almost fictional. 

Harry was lively and charming on stage, working the crowd to his favor as easily as he could knock back a shot, wrapping every single patron around his jeweled pinky without breaking a sweat. His witty temperament countered Mitch’s timid disposition perfectly and that uncommon dynamic had been the foundation to their friendship. Their humorous shenanigans on stage (which included Harry pinching at Mitch’s ass and making vague vulgar motions at each other while harmonizing) was a hit within the drunken community, and it bled into their personal lives. They went from only interacting on stage to sharing drinks together afterwards, to hanging out outside of work, to deep late night conversations about the world and their experiences.

Soon enough, they were closer than either had expected to become. And once they found out each other’s true identities (Mitch had transitioned during the American Revolution, when a vampire in his battalion had given him blood to heal from a wound, unaware that the next day, Mitch would suffer a fatal gunshot to the stomach that would trigger his transformation) they grew inseparable. They had remained that way ever since. 

Despite his friend’s withdrawn tendencies, the older vampire never hesitates to make his opinions heard, obvious in how he’d just full-bodied Harry with that snarky comment. Even when it’s at his expense, Harry appreciates and respects the rawness of it. He loves the way Mitch is honest and straight-forward with everything that crosses his path— it’s one of his favorite traits about him and definitely one of the characteristics that had led Harry to deem him his best friend. He’s probably the most fulfilling person Harry has ever met and their friendship brings him a type of comfort that he doesn’t receive from anyone else.

Vampires can be so detached and cold not only towards humans, but towards one another, and it gets old at times. It’s unsettling not having someone to truly confide in, and Harry is grateful that Mitch had been so willing to fill that position.   

Due to this, Harry rarely takes genuine offense in Mitch’s digs. They’re normally expressed as a joke and they’ve both been alive for so long that thick skin is a default.

“How was I dick?” Harry inquires, slinking his head to the side with entertained curiosity. “If anything, he was the one being an asshole. I asked him to let us in nicely and he practically spit in my face!”

Mitch snorts in amusement, shaking his head lightly as his eyes streak across the humongous room in the same cunning manner Harry’s had. “You and Xander didn’t have to mock him that way.” 

That’s another thing that makes Mitch the better half of their power duo— he still has a decent shred of humanity in his unbeating heart. Pessimistic conclusions aside, Harry does have a bit, as well...but his is more like a paper-thin pencil shaving than a shred. Barely there, but there, at least. 

The young man returns his companion’s snort, rolling his eyes up to the hanging lights over their heads. “Was just some harmless teasing. Nothing bad came of it.”

Mitch scowls scoldingly. “It was unnecessary and mean.”

Harry mimics his expression with his nose scrunched sarcastically. “We were just taking the piss, and it’s not like he’s gonna remember it anyways. Stop being such a kill-joy.” 

“Stop being such an arrogant little shit.” 

“Or what?” Harry tilts his chin up challengingly, the amber specks around his pupils glinting tauntingly, faint black veins momentarily webbing across the whites of his eyes. He sweetens his voice into a honeyed drawl. “Are you gonna spank me, daddy? Have I been a bad boy?” 

Mitch belts out a feathery chuckle, shoving his friend with enough strength to send a regular human flying across the deck. But since the taller vampire matches his force, he hardly moves an inch. “Fuck off.” 

“I’m being serious!” Harry cackles, turning his hips and sticking out his ass towards his visibly disgusted acquaintance. “Go fucking in, if you want.”

He lowers his voice into a sultry hum, wagging his backside jestingly. “I like it rough, baby. Why don’t you bend me over this railing and show me who’s boss?”

It’s Mitch’s turn to roll his eyes to the ceiling, voice deadpan. “I think I’ll pass.” 

Harry juts his lower lip into a theatrical pout, sniffling faux tears. “You’re rejecting me that quick? Who’s the asshole now, huh?”

His best friend doesn’t even blink. “Still you.”

“I can live with that. And it’s probably a good call on your end to give up all this,” he signals vaguely up and down his tight torso with a ringed hand, grinning as he watches the veteran vampire pretend to gag, “because I don’t think Sarah wouldn’t be too happy about it.” 

Mitch’s humorous face immediately drops, eyes narrowing at the change in topic. “Very funny.” 

“I know, right? I’m a proper comedian.” Harry quips proudly, batting his lashes mockingly. “Where is Sarah, anyways? Have you heard from her lately?” 

Sarah and Mitch...They’re a complex couple, if they can even be called a couple. The two are more like occasional friends with benefits, “occasional” meaning “once every couple of months, if Sarah happens to be passing by.” 

Their relationship is open and very loose, mostly due to the fact that Sarah is fairly new to the world of blood-driven immortality and has decided to take full advantage of it. She’s been using compulsion to travel the world for the last three years since she changed, which had been the result of an unfortunate car accident. 

Mitch had been seeing her casually beforehand, keeping her around for the purpose of having a conventional feeding arrangement. Every time vampires feed, they heal the wounds they inflict with a bit of their blood, proceeding to then wipe the person’s memory with compulsion in order to eradicate any chances of getting caught. The caveat is that if a human dies with vampire blood in their system, they become one. 

Sarah’s death happened the day after she’d spent a night with Mitch, and one can imagine how distressed she had been when she'd awoken atop a metal table in a morgue within the basement of a hospital. Mitch had been there from the very first second she’d opened her eyes to her new life. Or rather, her dead life. He had helped her get accustomed to the next stage (meaning having to cut family ties in order to avoid a catastrophe— the less people that know the truth about the supernatural, the better) coaxing her through transition and teaching her the way to go about the rest of eternity without putting herself and others in danger. 

Vampires rarely have any compassion for life (usually out of spite, which stems from how their own lives were taken from them), so it’s not uncommon that bodies are found drained of blood in back alleys, abandoned warehouses, and washed up on banks of oceans and rivers. It could be either of two reasons, or even both: the monster doesn’t care about the consequences of their actions, or they never learned to control their urges. 

Harry’s crew isn't that careless. Through Mitch, they had learned restraint, taking up his practice of feeding enough to satisfy themselves without killing the host, healing them, and then erasing the occurrence from their memories. Mitch had come up with the tactic to cling to his humanity— to be as kind and nondestructive as possible— but if Harry’s being honest, most of their friends only play along because it’s convenient. No bodies means no police involvement, and no police involvement means being able to settle down in one place for an extended period, not having to stress about the annoying process of bouncing around the world for the rest of their lives to avoid detection. 

Keeping low was for the best, and when things get rough— whether it be a mistake on their part or a disastrous bender caused by another vampire passing through— they resort to drinking from blood bags until things tide over. Mitch has a contact at the nearest hospital, which is how he gets access to the stock, as well as how he managed to clean up Sarah’s passing so quickly. 

All in all, Harry had only mentioned Sarah to tease his friend, knowing the slight sensitivity that comes with the subject. Vampires rarely form emotional bonds, typically because it can get really messy, really fast, whether that connection be to a mortal or to another creature of their species. All of them have baggage of some sort— you can’t die, resurrect, be forced to abandon your family, and be a slave to drinking blood for the rest of eternity and just...be normal. That type of extreme emotional turmoil is corrosive towards love. It’s always better to just avoid it all together. 

That’s why this is so habitual to joke about; it’s a way to deflect. 

Mitch sighs grandly, Harry’s question echoing in his skull. “I don’t know where she is, to be honest. Last we talked was, like, four weeks ago, I think. She was in Japan, said she was drumming for a new upcoming band. Haven’t heard from her since.”

Harry nods his head once in understanding, itching to steer the theme of their conversation elsewhere now that he knows the topic is in a more sensitive state than he’d imagined. He doesn’t want to push Mitch into a depressive episode when they’re supposed to be having a good time. Spending the night consoling his sulky friend in the bathroom of a club is the last thing he wants right now. 

“I guess that makes Sarah the asshole, then.” He pokes jokingly, bumping the older vampire’s hip with his own. “She’s ghosting you. Get it? It’s funny ‘cause she’s actually dead.” 

Mitch’s sad expression shatters like glass, replaced by one of unamused secondhand embarrassment at the shitty pun. “I fucking hate you.”

“All the people who were ahead of their time were hated.” Harry sing-songs, turning up his nose haughtily. “Copernicus, Socrates, Einstein— all of them were hated for being geniuses. I’m willing to carry that same burden.” 

Mitch blinks at him three times. “No one hated Einstein.”

The curly-haired boy’s lips twitch darkly. “I’m pretty sure Japan did.” 

“You’re going to hell.” 

“I’m already there, mate.” 

Mitch shakes his head, but even through the black lights, Harry can see him trying to ward off a laugh. After a moment’s pause, he speaks up again softly. “It’s not that hard to refrain from humiliating innocent people who are just doing their job, H.” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you’re still on that?” The broad monster groans in exasperation, palms slapping down on the metal rungs below him. “We were just having some fun! But fine. If it helps you fake sleep at night, I’ll try and keep my condescending flare to a minimum.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” Mitch responds peacefully, tapping his nimble fingers casually along the railing, his action much less violent than his companion’s. “S’not too difficult.” 

“Whatever.” Harry scoffs, returning his intent gaze to the dance floor, scoping out the scene once again in hopes of finding a proper meal for the night. 

He zones in on a group of young women gathered along one side of the bar, their messy giggling and lack of balance giving away that they’re obviously sloshed off their faces. Seems promising enough. 

When he talks once more, his tone holds an attitude that plays on a grumble, but it’s somewhat distracted. “The least you could do is let me have some fun, considering I didn’t even want to come.” 

Mitch huffs, making an entertained noise in the back of his throat. “You say that every single time we go out, and yet you always end up taking someone home. Don’t know why you’re complaining.” 

Harry side-eyes him from his peripheral vision, the corners of his pretty cherry mouth dipping down grudgingly, mood defensive. “You drag me to these things so I’m not going to apologize for making the best of it. I put a lot of effort into my pick-ups! I deserve to get my dick wet.” 

“God, please don’t say that again.” His best mate physically makes a vomiting sound. “You’re acting like a spoiled fraternity douche.” 

Harry’s gaze ignites into flames, his back straightening out as he fully turns to face the shorter man. He’s never been insulted so low before. “Take that back!” 

“Take that back!” Mitch mocks in an exaggerated, high-pitched British accent, attempting to stifle giggles. 

“Take it back! You know how much I hate Gen Z.”

“Okay, boomer.” 

“You’re older than I am!” 

“I know. Your lack of maturity is a constant reminder.”

Harry opens his mouth, prepared to make a sharp comeback about how Mitch should have left the shaggy-haired stoner aesthetic back in the eighties, but then a heavy Irish accent interrupts his rebuttal. 

“What’s all this about getting your dick wet?” 

Both of the vampires turn towards Niall, finding Xander and Adam accompanying him in a loose semi-circle. 

Xander isn’t paying any attention, too busy tapping away at the screen of his smartphone, apparently engaged in a very riveting conversation with whoever is on the other side. Adam has his hands tucked into the pockets of his plum purple wind-breaker, looking over Harry’s shoulder, seeming to be adamantly searching for someone in particular amidst the mob on the level beneath them. Niall is the only one interested in their dying conversation, probably only because he heard something crude being mentioned. 

“It’s nothing.” Harry dismisses, but he can’t help but stick Mitch with a glare. “What’s the plan for tonight, then?”

Adam speaks up for the first time. “Charlotte and Ny texted saying they got here about ten minutes ago. Mentioned they were dancing near the DJ station, so I think I’ll go find them.”

“Sounds good.” Harry bobs his head in accordance. “We’ll see you out there, yeah?” 

Adam returns his action, turning on his heel and heading for the stairs that lead to the bottom floor. The leader of the group watches him trot onto the large spiral staircase, disappearing into the thick throng of people scattered across its wide steps. 

Harry shifts his attention to Xander, snapping his fingers a few times in his direction and giving a two-toned whistle. “What about you? What’s got your head?”

“Not what, who.” Niall teases, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and making kissy faces at their friend. 

Xander ignores him, glancing up at the green-eyed brunette to let him know he’ll be with him in a second, returning his focus back to his iPhone. After a few more elongated moments of typing, the older man finally locks his device. 

“I have a date.” He throws out casually, almost as if it should be obvious. 

“A date?” Harry reiterates slowly, not quite buying it. Xander doesn’t date. He couch-surfs just as much as Harry does. 

“Mmhm.” Xander glimpses behind his fellow vampire, eyes carrying intention. “It’s just a random dude from Tinder. I thought it’d be easier to set something up beforehand, just so I don’t have to spend the whole night trying to figure out if a guy is making eyes at me or trying to keep his whiskey down.” 

“Smart.” Harry shrugs his sculpted brows, impressed. A cocky grin toys with the corners of his mouth. “But we both know no one will ever compare to me.” 

“Right.” Xander scoffs in a deadpan manner, gifting him a tight, aggravated smile. “If only you weren’t such an emotionally unavailable prick.” 

“Oh, like you’re mentally stable enough for a relationship?” Harry bites back, but it holds no true malice, just some petty rivalry. “Piss off.”

“Happily!” The other vampire exclaims, clasping his hands together for dramatics. “Have fun finding someone out there. I’m just gonna grab a to-go box for my already prepped meal.” 

Harry doesn’t bother watching him leave. Instead, he turns to Niall, pointing at him to symbolize it's his turn to share his plans for the night. “What have you got, Lucky Charms?” 

His friend breaks into a jolly cackle at the nickname, arms falling crossed over his chest, hands absentmindedly squeezing his elbows in thought. “Well, I dunno, Tea and Crumpets. What’s your game plan?” 

Before Harry can answer, Mitch butts in, feeling left out of the banter and somewhat hurt that no one had assigned him an alter ego. “What’s my country-derived nickname?” 

Niall gives the American a slow once-over, shifting in his dark brown Clarks boots, fitted navy slack riding up his thighs and allowing his rainbow polka-dot socks to peek out. He hums lowly in the back of his throat, a grin spreading across his rosy cheeks. “Biscuits and Gravy.” 

Harry chimes in, his own arms casually folding over his strong chest, index finger tapping on his bottom lip as if mulling something over. “I quite like We The People, actually.”

The Irish lad snaps his fingers as if having a sudden epiphany. “Uncle Sam!”

Harry’s emerald eyes twinkle with glee at seeing the way Mitch’s go half-lidded, no longer entertained. “Four Score And Seven Years Ago.” 

“Okay, I think that’s enou—”

Niall wags a finger at Harry, lifting one shoulder in question, seeking approval on his next idea. “Star Spangled Banner?”

Harry copies the boy’s motion from before, snapping his fingers and making jazz hands. “I Pledge Allegiance.”  

“Ok, I get it!” Mitch whines with annoyed finality, pushing off the metal railing with a curt grimace on his scraggly face. 

“You asked!” Niall rationalizes between hiccups of evilly delighted joy, cupping his stomach as if to keep it from splitting open. 

“Won’t make that mistake again.” The older creature grumbles, leaning his back against the rungs and looking off towards the distance, communicating that he’s done being a part of the conversation. 

Once Harry manages to reign in his giggles, he rubs at his nose with the side of his finger, releasing a wistful sigh. He refers to the question Niall had stated before their little bullying fest. “I think I’m just gonna do what I always do— sway a nice, pretty girl into doing some not-so-nice but very pretty things.” 

“Solid.” The Irish bloke remarks, toying with the plastic buttons on his silk beige top. “Not much to do other than that, to be fair. Adam’s usually my wingman, but I guess he abandoned me for a girl’s night.” 

“Mitch is mine, and he knows better than to dip on me.” Harry roughly nudges his best friend with his elbow, dodging to the side when Mitch tries to hit him in return. 

Niall hums softly in amusement. “Maybe I should make Adam sign whatever contract you drafted for that poor bugger.” 

The curly brunette snorts. “Good luck. Adam’s as stubborn as they come. But, hey, if you can’t find anyone, just come to me.” Harry’s irises flit crimson for a millisecond, an ominous smirk buckling his features. “You know I’m always happy to share.” 

“Thanks,” his friend exhales flatly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“If you’re taking tips,” Mitch pipes up, vaguely signaling at Niall’s shirt with his chin, “maybe don’t wear that stupid shirt next time. The elephant doodles look ridiculous.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not taking fashion tips from anyone who actually enjoyed living in Ohio, then.” Niall snaps in an exaggerated American accent, middle finger jutting towards the other man. “The only thing you know how to dress is a cornfield scarecrow. Must be why you look like one.” 

Harry forces down more laughter, clearing his throat softly. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t get hammered— girls hate that.” 

“Note taken.” The pale boy runs his fingers through his hair, fixing it up and adding texture to appear more laid-back and rugged. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Later.” The younger vampire recites, giving a big thumbs-up. 

“Good luck out there. You, too, Boston Tea Party.” 

With that, Niall saunters away, leaving a fully laughing Harry and a grouchy Mitch in his wake. 

The two acquaintances decide to follow in everyone else’s example, descending down the looped staircase and chatting about Mitch’s latest gig at a new bar downtown. 

Harry praises Mitch's talent with his guitar, specifically the fact that he found a hobby which he enjoys so much that he’s willing to keep it as a permanent part of his life. It’s easy to get bored of things when you have hundreds of years ahead of you; everything can seem pointless, in the end. But Harry doesn’t think Mitch has ever let himself fall into those types of dark headspaces and he finds that extremely admirable. 

Harry wishes he could say the same. He’s no musical prodigy, that much is obvious, but he is an expert at playing a few specific French songs on the piano by memory. He rarely does it, though; only when he’s in a low state of mind, which— given the origin of how he learned said classical pieces— isn’t something he’s proud of. They’re tied to a very gruesome part of his past that he’d rather bury deep inside, but he can only push back his troubles for so long before they begin to leak out, staining the clean sheet of recovery he had sewn into place. Those arrangements just bring him a warped sense of comfort he can’t explain.

Even though he’s aware of the destructive aspects of the songs, he finds himself humming one now out of instinct as he elbows through squished bodies and flailing limbs. The second he notices he’s doing it, he cuts it off, focusing all his intention on making it to the other side of the room to the bar. It’s a hard trip when it feels like the walls of the building are closing in on him. 

When Harry finally breaks free from the Human Centipede re-enactment that is the club dance floor, he practically collapses onto the sleek glass counter. Death was less painful than that walk. 

He cranes his neck to the side wildly, suddenly remembering that his much smaller, much skinnier, much more crushable friend had been in tow behind him. To his utter shock, he watches as Mitch calmly weeds around grinding drunk couples with the poise and grace of a swan, filling the empty spot besides him without a single ailment in the world. 

Harry blinks at him blankly in silence, almost as if he’d grown an extra set of fangs. 

Mitch flags the bartender from all the way down the counter, not bothering to meet the green eyes peering at him in disbelief. “You’re so fucking dramatic, H.”

“How did you not die? Again?” Harry sputters, sight jutting all around the older vampire’s body, looking for any battle wounds or missing appendages. “I almost lost an arm in there!”

“It’s a good thing it wasn’t your favorite one, right?” Mitch smirks at his own lewd joke, the simper molding into one of genuine kindness when the mixologist slides up in front of them. “Hi, how are you? I’m good, as well, thank you for asking! Yeah, I’ve got something in mind. Don’t worry, I’m not one of the ‘just make me something sweet’ type of assholes.”

Harry zones out the rest of the friendly chat Mitch entertains with the employee, letting his gaze wander around the large auditorium-like room. He dances his vision over the DJ remixing music on top of the stage, head beginning to bop along to the beat that is currently shaking the seven foot tall speakers. He’s pleasantly surprised at how good this specific producer is. 

He continues scoping out the rest of the venue, taking notes of the different clusters of people that seem to hold promise for the plans he has in store later tonight. A small group of hippie friends here, a two-party duo of tipsy stoners there, and a clump of college students at the edge of the ruckus, stumbling around loudly. Things are looking somewhat decent, in his opinion. The hippies seem to be catching his attention more than the others— specifically, the one that looks similar to Stevie Nicks. That’s a fantasy that’s been waiting to be fulfill for decades now. 

Harry lulls his head forward again when he feels Mitch give a squeeze at his elbow, telling him that the bartender is waiting to take his order. He decides to go for the gold tequila, asking for it straight in a highball glass without any garnishes. The worker’s eyebrows jump up slightly at the unorthodox request, but he drops a polite, “Coming right up.” either way.

“You truly have no flavor.” Mitch tuts once their waiter has stepped away to prepare their drinks. “No taste buds whatsoever.” 

“Yeah? Well, you can suck my flavorless dick.” Harry chimes brightly, eyes crinkling shut as a result of a theatrical smile. 

The younger vampire goes to turn back around, legitimately interested in the girl he’d seen that looked like one of his seventies celebrity crushes, already running through scenarios in his head on how he’d get her into his bed for tonight. Weed and ABBA are probably good conversation starters for that, if Harry’s undisputed people skills have anything to say about it. 

As he’s rotating his torso, a blurred image catches his eyes. He does a double-take, honing in on a group of girls that look faintly familiar. He scans them carefully as they huddle around the corner of the bar area, laughing and toasting along to the multiple conversations they all have going at once. They look like the typical posse that would be a backdrop clique in a mainstream movie. 

He knows where he recognizes them from— it had been the same girls he’d spotted earlier up on the second deck.

Harry expertly surveillances each woman, picking out potential candidates as easily as he’d pinch petals off a flower. The one in the center of the group is obviously the leader, present in how she’s the prettiest and is somehow managing to juggle all of these interactions at once. It means she’s used to being the center of attention— probably strives under it. He throws her out as a potential; the last thing he needs is someone who everyone knows and seeks out. He wouldn’t be able to sneak away with her quietly. 

The rest of the girl crew all seem to be the same status-wise, appearing as supporting characters to the main one in the middle. He could choose any one of them blindly and it wouldn’t make a difference. They all seem so tight-knit, they probably share personalities, at this point. It’s like dipping his hand into a jar of jelly beans and they’re all the same flavor. That notion makes him laugh to himself a bit; maybe Mitch was right about his lack of taste. 

Then, Harry spots her, and all the other women immediately go up in smoke. 

It’s hard not to spot her. She sticks out like a sore thumb, but not in a good way. 

The prospective contender is off to the side, sitting atop a barstool with her feet tucked along the footrest, tapping them against the metal rung awkwardly. She’s talking to one of the other people in the group, but the interaction seems forced and not very satisfying, obvious in both of their faces. She’s tracing her middle finger around the edge of her glass cup distractedly, the contents inside barely touched, the ice in her drink long-melted. She seems disinterested in the chaos her friends are causing, her expression bored and borderline regretful, as if she doesn’t want to be here. 

The further he sizes the girl up, the more appropriate she looks for the role he needs filled. Since barely anyone is paying attention to her, that means he can lead her astray without too much resistance from her acquaintances, if any at all. She appears somewhat unimportant to the narrative— merely a background extra— and it makes him wonder what she’s doing with this clique of women that can’t seem to be bothered by her presence. It’s sad, really. Sad, but beneficial, because that means he can succeed in making her the supporting protagonist of his narrative, at least for tonight. 

The girl is attractive, but not anything astronomical. She’s unconventionally pretty in a way that makes her relevant, but not particularly distinct in the eyes of regular men with presumptuous standards. She’s easy to pass up, and if Harry hadn’t been actively pursuing someone of her bashful persona to card into his plans, he wouldn’t have noticed her. At the risk of once again sounding shallow, Harry’s aware that— physically speaking— he’s very much out of her league. His above-average appearance gives off the vibe that he’d fit better with the leader of the group instead of with her, but he doesn’t want someone that would raise suspicions as a result of their absence. This girl, sitting along the edge of the party with barely any purpose and no one to really question her whereabouts, is exactly what he’s looking for. She’s perfectly imperfect for the cause. 

Harry continues to examine her meticulously, analyzing other traits that can give him a better feel for her character. She’s clad in a pair of high-waisted pastel pink silk pants that stop right at her ankles, accompanied by a flouncy creme lace blouse tucked into her waist. Tan wedges, no accessories, delicate rosey nail polish, and minimalist makeup. The boldest thing about her is the brick red shade of her lipstick, which is easily shadowed by the sparkly sequin dresses, five inch heels, and layered tops her friends are wearing. 

Harry likes her outfit, though. It’s concise and safe, which he can appreciate. Yes, perhaps she looks like she belongs in a dentist’s office rather than a Los Angeles nightclub, but he thinks there’s beauty in simplicity. She looks cute, and that’s good enough for him. 

“She seems interesting.” Mitch’s soft voice snaps him out of his detail-hungry haze, drawing him back into the reality that is the black lighting of the club and the deep booming of the music’s bass. 

His friend slides his tall drink across the glass counter, the amber liquid inside warping his reflection. 

“I suppose so.” Harry answers passively, shrugging one shoulder in indifference while accepting the cup, ringed fingers clinking against the crystalline surface. 

He takes a leisurely sip from the straight tequila, its tangy kick sending a warm surge up through his ears and down his throat, spreading into his chest and along the trench of his tummy. Alcohol really is the cure to everything. 

Mitch gives him a deadpan look, the strobe lights alternating across the glossy surface of his hazel irises, highlighting smugness. “You’ve been gawking for five minutes. Put your pride back in your pants and go talk to her.” 

The curly-haired vampire flashes him a light smirk over the rim of his drink, absentmindedly tapping his two initial rings along the bottom of the highball cup. “Ever so blunt, aren’t you?”

Mitch scuffs, taking a swig from his trusty beer bottle. Out of everything, that’s the one aspect Harry despises about his best mate— that he goes to a club and orders the same drink every time. Where was the fun in that? Where was the excitement of trying something new? When you have an eternity, the least you could do is utilize it to your advantage. Cycling through every cocktail in human history is a prime example of making the best out of immortality.  

But Mitch is a creature of habit— as are most of their kind— and Harry knows he won’t shake easily. Not when it comes to surrendering his preferred beverage, and definitely not when it comes to sticking his nose in Harry’s intimate business. Meddling and being irritating are what best friends are for. 

“What can I say? Pep talks are my forte.” The older monster remarks sarcastically, bumping his bottle against Harry’s glass in encouragement, using the spout of his container to point in the general direction of the mysterious girl. “Now go make dinner.”

“But, darlinggggg,” Harry whines playfully, a smirk still tugging at the corners of his slightly liquor-swollen lips. “I made dinner last night. Isn’t it your turn?”

Mitch rolls his eyes and shoves Harry’s shoulder harshly, with just enough force that it actually has some type of impact this time around. “Just go, before she gets creeped out by your staring.” 

Harry’s own irises copy his friend’s actions as he pushes himself up from the bar, rubbing at the new sore spot on his shoulder with an exaggerated pout present. “Ow.”

Mitch blinks at him flatly, fighting off a grin. “You’ve had worse. Go.”

Harry swivels on his heel, once again facing the group of tipsy girls at the other end of the counter. It appears that most of them have dispersed into the dance floor, having found partners to entertain them for the time being, moving to the music as if there are no other people in the room. They had left behind three of their companions, one of which is Harry’s aspiring hookup; he gets the feeling that the two girls had stayed behind out of the kindness of their hearts, feeling too guilty to leave the runt of the litter all on her own. He hopes that’s the case because if so, the second Harry inserts himself into the situation, they’ll take that chance and split, leaving him to tend his meal in peace.

He tucks one large hand into the front pocket of his trousers, the grip on his glass tightening a smidge, rings biting into his skin as the condensation of the chilled tequila cools the small spike of pain. He spins his lionhead ring around his finger within his slacks, gradually drifting closer as he goes through a checklist of prized pick-up lines he could use to garner her attention. He ducks and dodges inebriated club-goers with ease now that he’s had something to take the edge off, finally reaching the end of the bar, slowly coming to a halt right behind his target for the night. 

Harry nearly passes out as soon as her scent hits him. 

It’s faint and tender and nothing quite like anything he’s encountered before, a mixture of honey and lavender that permeates through her normal perfume. He feels like his head’s been put through a wringer, his whole body clenching for a moment as raging sparks erupt across the pit of his belly. He indulges a deep breath, willing the blazing current away in order to keep his cool, but all he can see flashing before his eyes are images of her leaving traces of that smell smeared all over his face as he bobs his head between her quivering thighs.

He takes another penetrating inhale, centering his mind back into the present. He needs to behave.

Her friends spot him immediately, their side of the conversation faltering to ash. They give Harry a wide-eyed once-over, mouths parting in slight shock as they drink up his attractive appearance, gazes lingering along his thick chest as it strains the baby blue material of his tee. Their sights drag across his broad shoulders, dainty collarbones, and strong neck, faces gawking without remorse, blinking emptily at the slope of his sharp jaw and the peaks of his prominent cheekbones. They seem to be at a loss for words the second his dimples indent into place, his brows shrugging in a half-assed greeting before he cocks his head to side a tad, voice velvet as it directs towards the girl they had forgotten existed.  

“I’m guessing you’re the designated driver?”

Y/N jumps slightly in response at the new addition to the painfully dying conversation, not recognizing the heavy English accent and deep baritone that booms behind her. She had been wondering why Melissa and Isabel had stopped talking so abruptly, and she now has her answer. 

Y/N slowly goes to cast a curious glance over her shoulder and Harry can hear the pulse flaring in her neck from the sudden intrusion to her surroundings. His fangs prick along the inside of his bottom lip due to carnal instincts; he has to will them back into receding. 

 When her eyes land on the owner of the random words, her finger immediately halts its swirling motions along the hem of her glass.

‘Fuck.’ is the only thought that registers through her short-circuiting mind. 

The lanky, curly-haired brunette that stands before her gives a gentle yet confident smile, the gesture dazzling even in the low lighting of the atmosphere. He’s absolutely gorgeous, with deep pits carving into his cheeks, perfect teeth complimenting full cherry red lips, eyes the color of a rainforest canopy, and a broad frame that is somehow not overwhelming. He’s sporting neatly ironed tan slacks, a fitted cotton shirt with a cute yet crude graphic at its center, a fancy plaid coat, and crisp yellow Vans without a single smudge in sight.

Y/N can’t help but take notice of all the little details of his fit, especially the accessories. A beautiful pearl necklace laid along his delicate clavicle, a cross resting between his defined pectorals, and a matching earring dangling from his earlobe. Not to mention the array of clunky rings arranged along nimble fingers, hugging a tall glass carrying caramel liquor and somehow managing to dwarf the cup’s size. The extra decoration is sensual in such an unexpectedly delicious manner. 

The hand he has tucked in his pants ducks out to comb through his dark auburn ringlets and Y/N can feel her mouth water at the new round of elegant rings. The action activates the cologne Harry had thoughtfully spritz in specific pressure points along his body, the scent of tobacco and vanilla traveling through the fog-heavy air and causing Y/N’s stomach to summersault. 

The young man is as close to flawless as anyone could ever come. 

Y/N feels an unmistakable sharp pain shoot through her ankle, and she comes to the realization that it had been the tip of one of her friend’s heels. The reality check jars her out of the embarrassing daze he’d spelled onto her, open mouth snapping shut and her lashes fluttering over her previously unblinking eyes. 

“Oh! Uhm—uh—” She clumsily twists sideways to fully face him, swallowing thickly and tasting the remnants of the alcohol she’d barely been nursing. “N-No. I’m not— well, I don’t think…? We Ubered here so that wouldn’t make any sense ‘cause I have no car to drive...so...” 

The boy chuckles softly at her choppy monologue, his laughter warm and inviting, similar to the look reflecting off his shiney irises, the golden flecks around his pupils seeming to swell and shrink from the rainbow lights cascading across them. Despite being caught off guard and utterly embarrassed, she can’t seem to break eye contact with him. The longer she gazes into his eyes, the more relaxed she begins to feel, a fuzzy heat stemming from the center of her belly and spreading up her neck and ears. 

Y/N gulps heavily like before, willing her tongue to produce a less embarrassing comment. “Sorry. Let me...Let me start over…Hi.”

“Hello.” He quips back playfully, lopsided grin widening in fond amusement. He lifts his drink up a bit in greeting. “M’Harry.”

“Y/N.” The girl squeaks out, copying his gesture because it’s easier than forcing her disoriented brain to try and come up with its own. 

Harry flirts his intent up and down Y/N’s body slowly, checking her out without any subtlety. He wants her to know he’s interested. 

When his sight locks with hers again, he bats his lashes sultrily and pours as much passion as he can into his tone, accent weighing in just right. “S’nice to meet you, Y/N.”

Her entire face prickles at how her name sounds dripping from those faultless raspberry lips. She’d pay anything to hear him say it again. “You, too.” 

This is not what Y/N intended. This is most definitely not what she’d intended to happen when she’d reluctantly agreed to go out with some coworkers on a Friday night, giving in simply because she had promised herself she’d be more social within her new job. 

She had moved to California roughly two months ago, wanting to get away from her old life in the small, boring town she hated to call home. Buying the flight had been a drastic decision made when she had been under the influence of something she’d rather not admit, but the following day— after she had sobered up from a wicked hangover— she found herself not wanting to cancel the trip. Found herself craving the excitement and adventure of beginning anew somewhere far away from everything she had ever known. 

All of Y/N’s friends back home had supported her without hesitation, egging her preposterous idea and congratulating her on “getting the fuck out of here.” Her family had been a little less supportive, but after a few heartfelt chats about following your ambitions and a budgeting lesson from her cousin, they had gingerly gotten on board. They understood that keeping her trapped in that lame town where nothing really happened wasn’t the way to ensure her success in life. Therefore, the people closest to her had swallowed their opinions and respected her choice to dive off the deep end, in search of something better beyond the borders of their tiny city. 

Within a week, Y/N had secured a decent job at a semi-popular cafe, courtesy of a connection from a family friend. Within two weeks, after many sleepless nights full of Rocky Road ice cream and the bright white pages of ApartmentFinder.com, she had managed to book a nice flat close to her place of work. It was a miracle, if she’d ever seen one. Especially within the crowded, expensive community that is Los Angeles. Within three weeks, she had been walking out of the giant glass building that was LAX with only two suitcases in tow, boarding an Uber to her new life. 

Things had never seemed more picturesque, she’d thought. Everything was falling into place in a way that seemed almost blessed by the universe.

Then, the culture shock hit. 

California was different. It’s was so fucking different than anything she’d ever faced and she wasn’t prepared for the social difficulties she’d have to hurdle. All her life, Y/N had grown up with the same people around her, spending every school year with them up until graduation, expanding her friend group as time passed. Even after high school, she’d remained closely connected with most of her graduating class. The region she lived in was tiny, tight-knit and friendly; it was hard not to. She couldn’t even go to the store for groceries without bumping into at least three people from her Algebra II class. 

Point being, it had been ages since Y/N had been put in a situation where she actively had to try and make friends. She’d been through that challenge way back in kindergarten and had never been hit with it again. 

Until it smacked her across the head here in LA.

Y/N didn’t mesh well with Californians, she quickly found out. They were all about crazy parties and club-hopping, whereas Y/N had been raised on community cookouts and mass sleepovers. They enjoyed getting cross-faded and streaking down the beach at two in the morning, meanwhile Y/N liked stripping down to her undies and spending the night binging Queer Eye while stuffing her face with Cheeze-Its and Snickers bars. They freely boasted about their sex adventures while bussing down tables at the restaurant, while Y/N’s intimate life had been nonexistent since the move. 

It was just...startling, to put it lightly. It wasn’t what she had expected at all, and that’s mostly her fault for not doing the correct amount of research before jumping headfirst into a cliche LifeTime film. 

Therefore, Y/N had made a pact with herself one month in, swearing to let loose and allow her surroundings to sweep her into a new dynamic— into a new, social butterfly version of herself. She’d started accepting the invitations from her coworkers to go out at night, and she’d started putting more effort into being open to wild experiences, no matter how scary they might seem. Shutting down and refusing to mold to her environment would only result in her having to return home with her tail between her legs, and she’d rather jump naked off a pier than see her parents’ faces wracked with pity. 

And that’s exactly what she’d done a couple nights ago, at the encouragement of the group of girls she was at the club with now. It had, in turn, ended in her coming down with a mild cold, but at least now she’d be able to tell her friends back home a cool story about dropping inhibitions. 

Dropping inhibitions is also why Y/N’s here tonight, dressed in the most party-like outfit she could put together, prodding an overly-boozy drink into her system, attempting to release some of the tension that had been building in her head for the last couple of weeks since she’d left her old life behind. That’s why she’s here, with strands of her blow-dried hair catching on the dark red gloss Melissa has slathered on her mouth in a thick layer. That’s why she’s here, with synthetic smoke scratching at her lungs and drunken men and women bumping into her every two minutes, most of them too busy sticking their tongues down each other’s throats to realize they’d almost toppled her off her seat. That’s why she’s here, with a blasé expression plastered across her features as her coworkers talk over her head without a second thought, her mind far away from the walls of this overhyped horror house. 

Y/N had been thinking about how she’d just started her Disney+ membership, finding comfort in putting together a mental checklist of all the movies she’s going to plow through the second she sets foot past the doorframe of her apartment. Indulging on her childhood was an ideal form of escapism, in her opinion. She’s positive Walt Disney would agree. 

That’s what her brain had been lost in when Harry’s deep, melodic voice had interrupted her daydreams, sending her spiraling into an embarrassing performance of nerve-induced hysteria. 

Now here she is, blinking back at him dumbly, eyes the smallest bit damp from the smoke machine and neon flashes of light. And here he is, smirking at her over the rim of his glass, eyes raking down her wired up body suggestively as he takes a calm sip from what appears to be the straight tequila in his colossal, bejeweled hand. 

The English boy takes a gradual step closer to her, wanting to make sure he’s not crossing any boundaries that would make her uncomfortable. The scent of his cologne intensifies and she feels a fiery heat suddenly pour between her clasped thighs. It just hits her how long it’s truly been since she’s gotten laid and fuck, it’s sad.

Harry begrudgingly peels his attention away from Y/N for a second, aiming his words towards the girls standing behind her with their mouths still opened stupidly. Even from a respectful distance, his warm breath still washes across her jaw and cheek, causing electricity to zip down her spine. “You don’t mind if I steal her for a bit, do you?”

‘Yeah,’ Y/N thinks in the back of her muddled skull, ‘that’s definitely tequila.’

Isabel and Melissa slowly shake their heads in unison, glancing at each other as if to confirm he’d just spoken to them. 

The edges of Harry’s lips jolt into a kind, easygoing smile. “Thank you. Promise I’ll keep her safe.” 

Y/N feels her heart hiccup at his statement. If she’s not insanely mistaken, it appears to have carried an undertone of dirty intentions. God, she’s praying she’s not mistaken. 

The two girls clamber away on their tall pumps, rounding around Harry and pausing for a moment. They make moaning faces and vulgar motions behind him, encouraging Y/N to pursue the stranger. She then watches them disappear into the throng of crowded bodies, leaving her alone with the beautiful boy and her heart slamming against her ribs. 

Y/N focuses back onto Harry, licking her itching lips lightly, not knowing what to say next as he settles himself beside her. He rests his forearm on the counter along with his drink, tucking his other hand back into  his trouser pocket and fixing himself into a comfortable standing position, crossing his ankles nonchalantly. The friction between his jacket and the bar rides his sleeve up an inch or so, and Y/N gets a view of the anchor tattoo he has along his wrist, as well as the upside-down cross inked between his thumb and index finger. 

Harry catches her looking, mouth twitching with a smidge of arrogant self-assurance. He loves when girls drool over his tats. 

“I have more.” He remarks lightly, a pang of condescending pleasure shooting through his chest at the way she jerks and pins her gaze down to the floor. 

Blood rushes into her cheeks at the realization that she’s been caught and Harry’s teeth grind. It’s so hot watching her fidget for him. Maybe he finds her more attractive than he’d originally let on. “Would you like to see them?”

Y/N timidly coaxes herself into locking stares with him once again, looking up at him from beneath her lashes, barely nodding with a soft, “Sure.” 

She looks so pretty like that, he notices, staring up at him all doe-eyed and shy. It’d probably look even better if she were on her knees.

Yeah, he definitely likes her more than he’d thought. 

Harry proceeds to shift about, shrugging his coat off his strong shoulders, letting it slip down his lean arms and reveal the plethora of dark tattoos strewn across his left arm. Y/N watches avidly, drinking up every flex of his biceps under the black paint and every twitch of his pecs beneath his cotton shirt, the tendons along his throat going taut for just a moment. That moment is enough for her to etch the image into the back of her eyelids for the rest of her life. 

Harry tosses the article onto the table, extending his arm over its surface for her to get a better reading. She doesn’t miss the chance, her pupils tracing over every line and stroke of the pen, over every shaded area and meticulous detail. 

His voice comes out as a low, garbled murmur, his own irises studying her features with just as much intensity. “You can touch them, if you’d like. I don’t mind.”

After a moment of hesitation, the brim of her crystalline cup is replaced by the ridges of his smooth, tanned skin. She drags her digits over the naked mermaid, tracing the curve of her figure and the dip of her tail, then passing onto the stem of the large rose, ghosting over every thorn and prickle. Harry can feel her heartbeat through her fingertips and it’s making him throb. 

“They’re very pretty.” Y/N whispers, allowing her touch to fall away, palm finding refuge across the counter. “Did they hurt?” 

“A bit, yeah. But I’ve gotten so many done that I think I grew numb to the needle after a while.” Harry answers, shrugging one shoulder to show it’s no big deal. He grasps his glass once again and takes a drawn-out swig, extending the action just so she can see the way his Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows. Once the cup is back in its place, his tongue peeks out and swipes any leftover liquid from his rosy lips, which then settle into a coy simper. “Plus, I kinda like the pain.” 

Y/N’s breathing stutters in her lungs and she swiftly swerves the topic onto something much less explicit. “So why’d you ask if I was the designated driver? That’s kind of an odd question. Very out of the blue.” 

Harry lulls his middle finger across the hem of his glass, exactly how she had been doing earlier, the motion weighed by an innuendo. She seems to understand it, present in how she bites into the inside of her cheek. “I just figured that a pretty girl like you would have easily found someone to dance with. So when I saw you sitting here looking all bored with your drink barely touched…I just assumed, I suppose.” 

And there it is again— the blood pouring into her face. Christ, if she keeps that up, he’s going to fucking lose it.

“Thank you, that’s— that’s really sweet. Proper gentleman.” 

Harry runs his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes snapping to her tinted mouth for a second, establishing some sexual tension that he’ll expand on as they go. “Who doesn’t like a guy who knows how to treat a girl, right?” 

Y/N clears her throat softly, obviously phased by his forward compliment, but she tries to play it off. “To answer your question, I— uhm...I’m not really one for the club scene, I guess. Don’t really like it, but I didn’t want to be rude and turn down the invitation.” 

‘Good girl,’ Harry thinks, silently cheering her on for having more brain cells than the typical human. 

“Well, that’s where we share some common ground, then.” He chimes brightly, a soft smile bringing his dimples to life. “I don’t care for clubs, either, but my friends have an affinity for them so here I am.”

He gestures vaguely towards the general direction where he’d left Mitch, continuing his rant. “The choking smoke, the annoying strobe lights, the crowded floor, the drunk morons—”

“Bumping into you without giving a shit.” Y/N finishes his sentence, her vulgarity drawing a boyish giggle from her companion and now she’s convinced she’d do anything to hear him laugh like that again. “And there’s always a faint smell of vomit coming from somewhere.”

Harry slaps his hand down against the glass table in passionate agreement, voice pitching up slightly as his brows jump in emotion. “Right?! It’s fucking disgusting. Don’t understand how anyone could genuinely enjoy it.” 

Y/N nods vehemently, sharing the same expression of utter distaste towards the subject. “It honestly doesn’t make any sense to me, either. Why come here when you can go to, like, a nice bar somewhere, y’know?”

Harry blinks at her in astonishment, her opinion mirroring his own with psychic-like accuracy. “My thoughts exactly.” 

“Great minds think alike.” Y/N responds playfully, taking a hearty gulp from her drink since the first time he’d spotted her from across the room. 

After a comfortable pause, Harry speaks up, also entertaining another sip from his own drink, which is now nearly empty. “Are you from around here?”

She can’t be. Rarely anyone born and raised here is willing to bash the status quo, and never so openly. 

She’s once again mesmerized by the attractiveness of his rings, but manages to get her composure in check. “Kinda. I moved here about two months ago.” 

Precisely his point.

Harry releases a curious hum over the cup between his lips. “Let me be the one to officially welcome you to Cali, then! Where people go to shitty clubs for fun and tan themselves into a strip of leather.”

Y/N sputters out a half-suppressed giggle and Harry’s brows almost furrow at the weird fluttering in his stomach. He rarely gets it.

Y/N takes another deep gulp of what he thinks is probably an Old Fashioned, silently praising the way she’d finished it off so quickly. She crunches an ice shard between her teeth and lets it melt across her tongue before engaging again. “I’m guessing you’re not from around here either though, are you?”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to chuckle a bit and she fights off an endeared smile. 

“What gave it away?” He asks, purposefully doing a thicker, fuller accent, his teasing nature making the grin she’d just stifled fully break through.

Y/N lifts a shoulder offhandedly. “Your accent seems a little too…posh for this area. Or even this hemisphere.”

Harry scoffs softly, the pinky around his glass sticking up jokingly as he kinks an eyebrow at her, a few rouge curls falling across his forehead. “Keen ears, mate.”

Y/N lifts her drink up a bit with a playfully knowing air, mimicking an English dialect. “Cheers.”

He places his empty cup down on the counter, his middle finger once more ghosting around the edge absentmindedly. She notices the pastel yellow polish covering his nails, tiny black smiley faces decorating the lacquer.

“I like your nails.” She admires, tipping her empty lowball towards his hand for significance. “Did you do them yourself?”

Harry glances at his fingers, stretching and wiggling them out, his features taking on a bit of pride. “Sure did.” 

“Don’t think I’ve ever met a guy at a club who could pull off nail polish so easily.” 

The left edge of his lips flicks upwards. “How do you mean?”

Y/N’s gaze bounces back to his and the tone twirling in his jade irises tells her everything she needs to know about keeping this conversation going: he enjoys being praised. 

She chooses her next words carefully, wanting to appeal to his interests. “I mean that it looks amazing on you. The color suits your skin nicely, makes your hands look good.” 

Harry breaks eye contact, glimpsing down at his shoes and she realizes he’s actually trying to hide a blush. The fact that she had managed to coax one out of him boosts her confidence while simultaneously making his own waver. He’s never like this— never so easily flustered. He needs to get it together.

Harry tilts his chin back up, lower lip strung between his two front teeth. His voice comes out as a flirty laugh.

“Known you for maybe,” he looks at the beautiful watch on his wrist symbolically, “ten minutes, and you’re already stroking my ego just the way I like it. I think that’s a record.” 

Y/N doesn’t know if it’s the liquor she’d just consumed too quickly, or if it’s Harry’s intoxicatingly alluring scent dulling the region of her brain that controls fear, but she’s suddenly filled with a strange surge of courage and her thoughts are spilling down her semi-numb tongue before she can stop them. “I’ve been told I’m pretty good at stroking, so an ego’s not too hard to handle.”

Harry cocks an eyebrow, surprised at her brazen reply. He might have misjudged her more than he assumed. However, he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy this girl more than the one he thought he was going to receive. There’s just something about how she can match his banter without a problem, and how they share a lot of the same thoughts and opinions, that just lights a fire in his stomach. 

“Is that so?” His voice lowers in pitch and he scoots a step closer, fingers just barely brushing against her arm as he repositions himself against the bar. His question comes out as a sultry murmur. “What else can you handle?”

Y/N knows that she’s starting to cross a line, and with every passing moment, the likelihood of returning to her friends is getting smaller and smaller. She’s not mad about it. Riding off of the wave of confidence that had inflated her ego earlier, she mumbles her response back with the same tone and texture. “How about you buy me another drink and then maybe you’ll find out?”

Harry gives her a boyish grin and the indents that pop into his cheeks nudge his appearance from an incredibly attractive man to an adorable cheeky boy. He motions to the bartender for another round of drinks, only letting his eyes flicker away from her for the moment it takes to do it. “How do you like LA so far?”

“It’s...alright.” It’s Y/N’s turn to move closer to him now, flicking her hair off her shoulder, hoping that the motion releases the perfume she’d dabbed on her neck while getting ready. Judging by the darkening of Harry's eyes, it does just that. “It’s definitely a change in pace from where I used to live, but I think I’m slowly gaining the reigns. I feel like once I get acquainted, I could grow to love it.”

“LA’s definitely a toggle. You could either vibe with it, or it’ll eat you alive and spit you back out.” 

She bats her lashes at him in stunned fright at his bluntness, his face deadly serious without any twitch or give. 

Harry then bursts into high-pitched laughter, eyes crinkling shut and nose scrunching. “I’m just fucking with you, love. Ease up, hm?”

“You asshole!” Y/N exhales grandly, half in relief and half in indignation, slugging him on the shoulder. All she feels is hard muscle beneath. 

He continues to cackle, sticking his tongue out at her. “Looked like you were about to cry.” 

“It definitely crossed my mind, yeah!”

The bartender arrives with their fresh drinks and Harry tells the man to but both of Y/N’s on his tab. She feels her cheeks glow, telling him he doesn’t have to, but he waves it off and says he’s more than happy to serve such a nice girl as herself. Especially if she “hates the same things I do. Think of it as your initiation gift into the Anti-Club Club.” 

A handful of heartbeats tick by, full of comfortable quietness as they both savor their new beverages. Harry pipes up first, regaining their topic from before.

“But, yeah, Cali’s for sure a special place. You meet some cool people if you hang around for a while. But sometimes,” he pauses for a second, eyes gleaming with something she can’t quite interpret. “But sometimes you can meet a really interesting person in just one night.” 

“I don’t doubt it.” Y/N clicks her nails against her Old Fashioned distractedly as Harry fixes her with that beautiful emerald gaze that makes her ears tingle. She cocks her head to the side knowingly, flashing him a soft smirk. “Sometimes, you just happen to meet that one in a million.”

“A lucky strike.” He adds, lifting his tequila an inch off the counter and tilting it towards her in what appears to be a toast, irises dancing with a certain type of suggestive mischief. “To meeting interesting people.”

The human girl clinks the rim of her lowball to the edge of his cup, shrugging her brows and reciting his comment back to him. “To meeting interesting people.” 

Y/N measures how the rest of their interaction goes by how quickly her drink shrinks. 

When she reaches down to the first ice cube stacked on top, Harry has managed to coax multiple rounds of laughter out of her, his humor startlingly similar to her’s in the most refreshing way imaginable. She quickly learns that despite his broad shoulders, lean torso, dark inking, and flawless features, he’s a complete and total dork. His personality consists mainly of voice impersonations and contorting his expression into an endless array of silly faces, which she takes to easily.

By the time Y/N’s amber drink has reached halfway down its container, the default touch barrier between the two has broken completely. There had been a few caresses prior, but now it’s more frequent, more noticeable, and each touch extends in time. She had been the one to initiate getting physical, which had sat so right in her stomach because that meant he was respectful and patient— definitely unlike most men in clubs. 

The mortal girl had gently shoved Harry’s chest when he’d made an nonchalant joke about how losing his swim trunks at a nude beach had been both the best and worst experience of his life, her cheeks boiling as she had felt nothing but more toned muscle beneath the cotton fabric of his top. She had gone back to tracing at his tattoos the further they got into sharing anecdotes and opinions, glancing up at him for permission in the middle of their exchange and smiling to herself when he’d nodded casually without a second thought. As the conversations continue, they both unintentionally get closer in distance to the point where the arm Harry had settled on the bar is now fully wrapped around the small of her back. She willingly leans into him, their knees and thighs brushing with every shift of their bodies and those minute moments begin to pile up their excitement.

By the time the alcohol in her possession bottoms out, she is nearly sitting in his lap, faces only a few inches apart. Y/N can’t recall half of what she had said, the subject having steered into so many different places that she couldn’t be bothered to keep track. Besides, she’s too focused on trying to keep a straight face as Harry plays footsie with her below the counter, his light yellow sneaker toying with her heeled velvet wedge. 

An important question on his behalf snaps Y/N out of her flirty stupor.

“So how do you like your new home?”

She blinks at him slowly, partially to try and give a seductive tinge to the interaction and partially because the liquor has started to truly settle in. It takes her a few heartbeats to process the inquiry. “I love it, actually. It’s a place of my own, for the first time ever. I couldn’t be happier.”

The corners of Harry’s swollen lips tick in genuine happiness on her behalf. “That sounds amazing. Congratulations on such a big step.” 

“Thank you! What about yourself? Renting anything neat?”

“Oh, I own a condo here.” He mentions casually, outlining the criss-cross pattern along the circumference of his highball glass. “I used to visit so often that I finally just decided to pull the trigger on one.”

“Look at you, investing in real estate.” She says in a teasing voice, her heel grazing around his calf slowly, cheeks sizzling as he parts his legs a bit to allow her the pleasure of traveling higher up.

“Mmhm.” Harry licks his red lips, free hand starting to trace over her own. The tips of his fingers are calloused and cold, the motion of them over her skin almost pulling a tremble out of her body. She does her best to restrain it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “Is it nice?” 

“Hm?”

His lips twitch in endearment at how he’s managing to make her lose her train of thought. “Your apartment, darling.”

She rests the rim of her drink on the bottom of her lip as she speaks. “It’s nothing huge or fancy, but it’s a decent size and l can call it home. Can’t get much better than that.”

Y/N loves how Harry's eyes flit to her lips for what she thinks is the billionth time tonight, his vision sketching along the curve of her cupid’s bow and dotting every peak.

Another warm glow of confidence spikes through her veins and she’s talking before she can analyze her thoughts. “Well, at least I think it can’t get much better than that. Although, I could just be biased. Could probably use an outside opinion.” 

It takes Harry a moment to register what she’s suggesting, a light blush creeping up the base of his neck as he realizes how he’s stopped so abruptly. Humans usually never get him this unnerved and it’s one of many times she’s made it happen. “An outside opinion?”

Y/N lists her head to the side. It sounds like he’s accepting the vague invitation, but she’s so anxious to mess this up that she’s second guessing herself with every passing second. However, with every touch, she wants Harry more and more, and that’s enough to propel her towards a more direct approach. “Mmhm. Like yours, maybe. Would you like to come back and see it?”

Harry pauses for a few of her heartbeats, and then bobs his head in acceptance. She can breath again. 

He finishes off the last inch or so of his tequila, a wicked grin creeping its way across his pretty, flushed mouth, long fingers carding into his loosely arranged curls. “I’m more than happy to be of service.”

A smile works its way onto Y/N’s own face at his response, her foot dropping back down his leg slowly. “I’m glad to hear.”

“Mm.” Harry takes her hand completely now and she almost moans at how much bigger his are, his rings pinching a bit, skin rough in some areas, but silky smooth in others. And strangely icy, but she enjoys it. “Shall we say goodbye to your friends first? I wouldn’t want them to worry about you.”

He knows her “friends” couldn’t care less, but he wants to be as much of a gentleman as possible. Romanticize, romanticize, romanticize.

Y/N snorts, knowing full well that they’d probably purposefully embarrass her in front of him as a joke. 

She squeezes his grasp lightly, giving him a soft smile. “You’re sweet, but it’s fine. They were actually behind you earlier, encouraging this whole thing, so I’m pretty sure they won’t mind.” 

Harry hums deep in the back of his throat and the sound melts into a cute chuckle. “I’m glad they helped, then. Think you can deliver them my thanks some other time?”

The young woman chews on the inside of her cheek at his comment, realizing that it suggests he aims on keeping her occupied for the rest of the night and well into the morning. She has to will herself not to lurch forward and kiss at his annoyingly perfect lips right then and there. “I’ll make sure to pass the message along.” 

With one last cocky simper, Harry helps her down from the stool and pays off their tab, offering her his jacket since most of her outfit is made of flimsy fabrics. Y/N takes it appreciatively, lashes fluttering when his scent envelopes her like a blanket. It’s the unique smokiness from his cologne, mixed with a slightly sweeter smell that she assumes is his shampoo, and a bit of something that reminds her of a vanilla candle. The aromas are sewn into every thread of his coat and she can’t wait to have those scents glued all over her more deliberately later tonight.  

Harry turns and plunges them into the throng of partiers, weeding through bodies with a type of determination that makes her insides twist. His arm comes up in front of him as he plows people out of the way with absolutely no regret, leaving her to throw out a few half-assed apologies in his wake. The idea that he’s excited to be alone with her has Y/N’s insides churning. 

Once they escape all of the grinding limbs and tight spaces, stumbling into the cool air of the starry night, she takes a huge gulp of air. She prays it will tide over the jitters running along the inside of her tummy. She has just now realized how riled up he’d gotten her and it’s all coming to a raging boil. 

Harry paces past the bouncer, throwing up two fingers in parting. “Later, Brock.” 

The security guard gives the young vampire a confused look, not recognizing him at all and wondering how he knows his name. 

Y/N repeats Harry’s phrase for the hell of it, squeezing his hand jestingly and he glimpses over his shoulder, grinning at her with sheer amusement and something much deeper swirling around the specks of copper in his irises. If there was a bit more light, perhaps she would have noticed the way his irises had glinted blood red instead of olive green.

She ogles at the way his back muscles shift and flex below his pastel blue shirt, her mind vaguely taking note of the light yellow detailings along the cuffs and collar. The tee is intriguing and fun and she hopes he’ll let her sleep in it after they’re done. 

She also gets distracted by the baby curls decorating the nape of his neck. She’s itching to tug at them and see what his response would be. Would he shiver in her grasp and let out a soft moan, or would he smirk darkly and tell her to go harder?

Harry suddenly halts, snapping her out of her thoughts as he presents his car. Y/N’s jaw nearly falls off. “This is yours?!”

She gawks at the vintage jet black convertible before her, feeling like she isn’t worthy of its chic presence. It looks new, shining in the street lamps like a thousand diamonds, not a scratch or dent in sight. 

Harry unlocks the passenger’s door, opening it and guiding her inside with a gentle pull at their clasped hands, shrugging his brows playfully. “Hope it’s not too shabby for your liking.”  

“Are you kidding?” The human mumbles in awe as she ducks down into the patented leather seat, running her free hand over the elegant cover. She sighs softly at the way his smell is lingering inside the vehicle, just as much as it sticks to his clothes. “I feel like I should bow to it or something.”

He laughs fully now, leaning down to get a view of her sitting prim and proper in his favorite car, looking gorgeous in her flowy silk pants, lace creme blouse, and his own clothes. He gnaws at his bottom lip to withhold a needy groan. “I think you fit right in.” 

Y/N feels warmth erupt into her face and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to distract her fingers from shaking. “Looks like I’m not the only one that’s good at stroking egos.”

“S’hardly a task. You make it easy, doll.” 

It’s the second pet name he’s called her tonight— it’s strangely vintage, same as his car— and she can’t wait to hear what others he has in store. Preferably in the form of breathy pants and broken whines.

Y/N flicks her gaze up at him through heavy lashes, attempting to stifle a sheepish smile. “Quite the charmer.”

A moment of silence suspends in the air, a light breeze filtering through Harry’s curls, swaying the jewelry around his neck as well as the earring hanging from his lobe. Harry speaks up with a type of hushed desire she hadn’t heard from him yet. “Can I kiss you?”

She blinks up at him once in mild surprise and then releases a sigh of utter relief. “Fuck, I thought you’d never ask.” 

Her hand reaches upwards outside the confines of the car, knitting into the thick fabric of his shirt and yanking him down. The second their mouths meet, it sets off a dozen fireworks in the pit of her stomach. His is softer than she had imagined, wet and warm, and his tongue carries the sourness of the tequila he’d been swishing the whole night. 

Harry’s breath hitches in his throat, and then a quiet whimpery moan streams down his tongue onto her itchy skin. “Christ, that was hot.”

As much as she loves the taste of him— the tartness of the alcohol mixed with an inherent sweetness his lips carry— she forces herself to pull away, but keeps her sweaty forehead pressed to his. “Yeah. It was.”

With one hand still gripping the car door, Harry uses his other to cup her chin lightly, guiding her into another kiss. Now that they have both developed a feel for the other, this one is less tentative than the last. She tastes so fucking good on his tongue, like strawberry syrup—probably from her lipgloss— orange bitters, and bourbon. He just has to have more of it.

A helpless gasp escapes Y/N when Harry's teeth graze against her upper lip, only nipping enough that she craves more. More of anything he has to offer. 

He pulls away and the whine that plucks her vocal chords feeds his eternal soul like nothing else has in a while.  

The young man grins at her for a moment, half in smug satisfaction, half red-faced and desperate, before carefully closing the car door and making his way to the driver’s side. He slides in with ease, shuts his own door and buckles up with a click of the belt. The simple action has never looked so attractive before, but she’s certain that anything Harry does with his ring-covered hands would be attractive.  

He fishes his keys from his front pocket, asking her where she lives in order to try and orient himself. As it turns out, she’s not too far away from his own flat. He knows exactly which condominium she’s referring to without having to even search it up— a perk of living here for a few decades.

He also chuckles to himself a bit at the fact that she hadn’t mentioned he shouldn’t drive under the influence. Vampires have an extremely high tolerance due to their self-healing properties, so the drinks he’d had only gave him a soft, warm buzz. He just finds it comical— and slightly arousing— that she’s so eager to get at him that she’d let that detail slip her mind.

Harry starts the car, but doesnt pull out of the parking spot. Instead, he glances at Y/N as a crease appears in his beautifully sculpted brows. The idea of something displeasing him bothers her, and she’s about to ask what it is when he murmurs a quick, “Just a second, dove.” He reaches across to grab her seatbelt, pulling it over her body and securing it into place on her behalf, making sure it’s nice and proper before leaning back in his seat. He doesn’t know why he cared to do it, but he had. 

The simple action leaves another layer of heat on Y/N’s cheeks. Having him bent over her like that was just a teaser of what was going to unfold later and it already has her mind spinning. She can only imagine how much of a mess he’s going to leave her when there’s no clothes restraining them.

“Thanks.” She whispers, playing with the tips of her fingers.

“No need to thank me. Just wanna keep that pretty face in one piece.” 

He plops one hand on the steering wheel as he shifts into reverse, carefully backing out of his spot. His arm ducks behind her seat, head turning and veins chiseling into his neck. It takes all of Y/N’s willpower not to lean up and begin to darken his tanned skin with hickeys. 

Harry cruises up to the exit of the club parking lot, waiting impatiently for the turn signal, digits tapping away at the leather below them. Y/N can see him throwing pained little glances at her from her peripheral vision, obviously restless to feel her skin sliding against his. Each look causes the warmth between her thighs to swell. 

She’s talking before she can stop herself, voice bashful and soft as ever, yet full of boldness from the liquor she’d consumed. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to do something to you that’s gonna get us both killed.”

The tapping of his fingers halts and he cranes his head to face her fully, ignoring the flashing green arrow on the stoplight before them. 

Harry reaches over the center console, his nose dragging up the length of her cheekbone, causing her to squeak out a tiny whimper at the feathery sensation. It’s the first time tonight he’s touched her so intimately. 

The sentence he grits out next makes her entire body visibly shutter, his breath hot against her ear, damp lips smearing over her jaw as his oath burns into her flesh.

“And if you say something like that to me again, I promise you I’ll pull this car over and make you eat every fucking word.” 

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles series #vampire!harry #harry styles #1d fanfiction #1d fic #one direction fanfiction #one direction fic #1d smut #one direction smut #ysijwa #harry styles one shot #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles dirty fanfiction #vampire au #smut #harry styles blurbs

[ivy-loves-chocolate]

I have a Resident Evil VIII OC who's based on the local folklore creature called ohnivý muž, basically meaning fiery man or flaming man in English. Since all the Lords seemed to be of different descent, I figured I'd chime in with my own culture, and they all seemed to be designed after some kind of folklore/fairytale creatures (apparently they aren't and allegedly in an interview it was said that they're all designed 1/2 after a creature from JAP folklore and 1/2 after horror monsters, but back then when I made the OC I just assumed that they were based on folklore in general), which is why I went with the local folklore.

His name is Lucián Ignác Svatých and he's technically a Lord but Miranda just...really didn't like him so she doesn't speak of him nor is he ever invited anywhere. He just lives in this totally wrecked and rundown church, more of a ruin than a church, in the village (obviously the whole village worships Miranda when the game takes place but I'm assuming that before she took charge there was a church since from what I know of the area and time period the people would have been religious) and does his own thing. I wanted to place the church near the waters, but I'm unsure if the layout of the place permits it tbh.

His mutation at first seems invisible and more beneficial than anything, kinda like Heisenberg's, but he can't actually control his fire-related mutation and will randomly burst into flames. Not always whole, sometimes it's just an arm or a leg, but he does. His hair is also made of flames. It's harder for him to control when he's under stress and when his mental state sucks. Not necessarily when he gets angry or anything like that, it reacts to the more general and permanent state of mind because it takes great willpower to keep the mutation at bay. If he couldn't do that at all, he'd just be fully engulfed in flames permanently. He can also breathe fire, which is the only part of his mutation he can control 90%.

The problem with him sometimes bursting into flames uncontrollably is that he either needs to put it out immediately or he needs to wait for it to die down on its own, because it's kinda like with a temporary tooth. Either it isn't falling out or you need to wait for it to be really close to falling out on its own before ripping it out, otherwise, if you rip it out when it's only a little loose, it hurts because it wasn't ready to go. Much like that, his skin will react to the fire the same way normal human skin would to normal fire if put out during its uuuh cycle so to speak. It reacts especially badly to water, however, it's unadvisable to use water to put his fire out in general as it seems to always result in at least some scarring. It's better to use mud or to roll around on the ground. Those actions only minimise the risk of the skin reacting the way normal skin would though, sometimes it still hurts a lot and he gets some scars. And his fire burns the same way normal fire does, so he has to be careful not to accidentally set anything on fire.

As an enemy, he uses an old sword (of course it's aflame) and you'd fight him while he's totally consumed by flames, and his final phase happens in his ultimate form, which is technically a dragon made of flames and melting metal. This form is irreversible, it's basically the climax of his mutation. All these details come from the folklore, since the fiery man is said to manifest as a man on fire, a rabbit on fire, a carriage on fire, a crown, a dragon (presumably on fire can't remember rn) and uh basically a lot of things on fire. In some parts of Morava, it is said that a fiery man is a fallen angel (that's why the church and the sword), while in other parts of the country it is believed that a fiery man is the soul of a criminal or a prisoner. They're morally grey and help some but kill others.

Also I ship him with Heisenberg.

Here have a chart I doodled a long time ago when I was trying to solidify his design and folklore inspo:

I really liked the idea of you creating an OC based on your local folklore!

I think you can place his church near the windmills? And I also found a similarity between him and Lord Moreau. They’re both simply ignored by Miranda and I think because of that they could be friends maybe. They’re somehow outcasts and they would get along. But it will also be dangerous to him since water hurts him.

I like his design, and his mutated form because of how scary it would be to fight a flaming dragon! Besides, I like his normal clothes as well. I think his robe, his sword, and his crown fit him very well his character!

Anyway, I’m glad you shared this. The story around him is so well written, and the art also helps us see him better. We wish Luciàn only the best!

#ask #feathery-dickmuffins ask #OC #resident evil

[narahairline]

not necessarily a doodle prompt but like. since your characterizations mean the world to me id really love to hear what you'd do if you got the chance to write boruto :]

tysm!! im so happy they resonate with u!! 🥺🌻✨

my reply got way longer than expected so im gonna put a cut

also took this more seriously than necessary but my god. do i have opinions on this.. 🤪

tl;dr pretty much nothing the writers are doing gbhfjsdk just have it be ninja adventure slice of life

tbh theres a lot of things i feel just.. dont really work about the entire concept of it as a sequel

imo its pretty apparent that theyre struggling to form a cohesive plot based on a series that didnt have the most cohesive writing/worldbuilding/lore to begin with and there’s the whole issue of trying to shift focus on a new set of protagonists when the old ones are considered the strongest in their universe and literally killed a god. it leaves the writers with no other options than going even bigger and bigger (like idk. implanting boruto with aliengod.zip) and at some point it just feels.. very out of proportion and like the writers are struggling to bring it all together in a way that makes sense 🤔

not to even mention the original series theme of revolution resulting in... none of the systems changing... the protagonists complacency in the very systems that traumatized them, that became their drive to fight for change... idk its so disheartening lol

as for what i do think would work, its probably short stories or arcs 🤔

little snippets of their life like the hokage inauguration short, which i think showcased the best of boruto lol juxtaposing their everyday life with them all just having these immense powers, having the older and younger generations conflicts intertwine, showing them adusted/adjusting to a different life entirely

also really liked the anime’s mitsuki arc since it linked established conflicts from the original series to those of the newer generation in a way that doesnt alienate the viewer if they havent seen naruto. focused on processing the war and how to move forward, change things for the better, trying and failing. what it means to be human and what it means to create life. worked really well imo.

but yeah more of that basically!! how has the world changed, what remains, how are the systems changing; focussing the legacy theme on the last 3 generations instead of the otsutsuki

for example i really like the parent/child training filler episodes or the idea with the internships and differing career options lol (tho i still think they shouldnt make kids work full time jobs at age 12 but what do i know)

so basically just more of that!! and more actual change lol. when they said they hadnt done a single thing for ame in those 15 years.. oh rage. theres kids living in sewer systems.. literally killing themselves for an organization promising them the change they desperately want... sounds familiar 🤔

you know (boruto spoiler!!) maybe konoha deserved to have kara snatch some of jiraiyas corpse dna idk

all that being said i still think the best option for a sequel wouldve been one set ~5 years after the end of shippuden. have team 7 lead their own teams. have kakashi be hokage if there really has to be one. theyre still relevant, can still show their powers without taking away from the new teams developement too much. put more focus on how the world is changing after what happened with pain and the 4th war. show how theyre rebuilding and reforming the systems that lead to those events.

#Anonymous

[whatevercomestomymind]

Hi, sorry to bother you, but I saw your post about learning calligraphy to better your handwriting? I was wondering if you remember any practice materials or methods you might have used? I have horrible handwriting and am trying to better it, but keep hitting walls on finding any practice materials that aren’t kindergarten level. Again, sorry to bother you on an old post but I thought you might be able to help another in their pursuit for better penmanship.

Not a problem! And I just posted that yesterday, so you're good!

There's an absolute TON of instructional work on calligraphy, and I agree, most start off way too basic, and then just skip through the "practice practice practice" portion, and end up not really teaching the evolution of the letter forms, which is stupidly helpful, especially once you already know the basics of handwriting.

I'll post a list of books I 1000% recommend at the bottom, but there's a few things to know about calligraphy when you start.

Calligraphy and handwriting are seen as 2 different art forms now. They didn't use to be.

There is a HUGE difference between your "daily hand" and "calligraphy."

Learning calligraphy will have a relatively small impact on your daily hand unless you practice a style that is foundationally similar to what you already know.

So, you have 2 goals: learning "fancy" lettering, and improving your handwriting.

If you want to improve your handwriting, you have to go in reverse historical chronological order, so that your hands and eye adapts most naturally, which will give you the fastest results.

So where to start?

First, if you're American, you were probably taught the D'Nealian script (block and cursive) when you learned how to write (https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/D%27Nealian)

This was derived from the Palmer Script (https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Palmer_Method)

Which is in turn derived from Spencerian script (https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spencerian_script), and in turn before that, Copperplate (which is more of a font family rather than a specific style, it's most famous offspring being English Roundhand).

If your goal is to improve your daily writing style, practice those hands in that order. DO NOT BE TEMPTED TO START WITH COPPERPLATE, IT WILL MELT YOUR BRAIN. TRUST ME.

I'd start with Palmer tbh. That's probably what your grandparents learned, and have you seen letters from the 1940s? Fuckin beautiful.

The key points are the angle of your paper, the angle of your pen, and your letter spacing. The styles all the way back to Spencerian tend to still allow for you to manipulate the pen with your fingers (like you're used to) rather than your whole wrist or arm (like older scripts like classic italics, copperplate and Gothic styles).

Here's a really old and really fabulous guide to the entire Palmer method: https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&url=http://lcweb2.loc.gov/service/gdc/scd0001/2006/20060809007pa/20060809007pa.pdf&ved=2ahUKEwjwtLfquYvsAhXydM0KHUpDBCMQFjAbegQIAhAB&usg=AOvVaw3cruMOFNqF4iK6as-toBJN

It's a free PDF. Pay particular attention to the section of scribbles and circles! THESE ARE NOT OPTIONAL IF YOU WANT TO RE-TRAIN YOUR HAND. You have to use muscles in ways they're not used to moving, so get a pad of paper, and in idle down-time (watching TV, riding the bus, on that stupid Zoom meeting that could have been an email), SIT THERE AND SCRIBBLE OVALS LIKE A LUNATIC.

Seriously, this is the single best thing you can do to improve your handwriting. And artwork for that matter. You have to train your hand. You have to start being conscious of how the pen feels, how it scratches the paper depending on how hard you press, how thick lines feel vs thin ones, how a miniscule change in pressure changes the whole line and shape you're doodling.

AUTISM/ADHD NOTE: doing this may make you feel weird, or overstimulated! If it's not something you can keep doing, then DONT. If like me though, you find the repetitive movement and scratchy feel of the pen on paper soothing, you're gonna freaking love this part.

So that covers scripts for the most part (well at least for the past couple of centuries).

ON TO BLOCK LETTERING!

In my research, I found that those annoying bubble letters with the I hearts I despised in middle school actually had a historical precedent: Uncial lettering.

Uncial (and half-uncials) lettering was the signature font of the Kells Monastery, and what we all think of when we thing "celtic/Irish lettering". Famous examples are the way Bilbo Baggins writes in the Hobbit and LOTR films, more pub signs than you can shake a stick at, etc.

Remember what I said about how older scripts require less finger movement and more wrist/whole arm movement? Half-uncial is one of those odd intersectional fonts. Below a 5/8" line height, you'll probably get good results moving mostly your fingers, but as you scale up, you'll get smoother lines by moving larger joints (wrist, keeping fingers in place, and then whole arm for 3"+ line heights).

The foundation of half uncial font is the circle. But it's more of a horizontal oval. Once you can draw a slightly elongated circle, and a straight line, you're ready for half uncials because every other letter is based on the "O". A's? A circle with a stick. D's? 3/4 of a circle with a horizontal ascender.

Now this us where the books I recommend come in.

You're going to want to start with the Celtic Design series by Aidan Meehan. Start with "A Beginner's Manual". It lays out the mathematical and geometric construction behind every major facet of celtic illumination. I particularly like the bit on the geometry of Insular letters at the end.

Then go through "Celtic Alphabets", followed by "Illuminated Lettes" if you're interested in the embellishments and decorated letters, though it does talk about how letter forms are constructed geometrically, which i found super useful.

But the font i use the most on a regular basis is Architects Hand. It's an all caps highly angular and tight, but easy to read and execute hand. Here's an example:

Since its mostly straight lines designed for optimal readability even at the smallest font point sizes, it's a super useful and easy way to write fairly quickly and legibly.

I hope this helps to answer your question and points you in the right direction! Since I moved on to specializing in knotwork and illumination fairly quickly after discovering calligraphy, I have a lot more information about those subjects than handwriting, but if you want more info, by all means, ask away!

#calligraphy #handwriting #letters #celtic #ask

[isa-ghost]

KITMAU (Killer in the Mirror AU)

I’m really out here considering making the Killer!Jackieboy AU a full-fledged thing after looking back on it now huh. For anyone interested, search my blog for “killer jackieboy.” :)

This entire AU/story concept was inspired by Set It Off’s song Killer in the Mirror, 10/10 recommend giving it a listen even if its just to get a better gist of this whole idea. :D

So anyway, here’s some ideas that might be subject to change-

All the asks/etc are the “prologue” so to speak

Jackie discovering his sidekick Marvin never died but is actually now a massive crime boss.

Marvin attempting to convince him to join forces with him instead.

Jackie’s betrayal driving him to murder Marvin.

In his moments before death, Marvin cursed his soul to Jackie and is now manipulating him into continue his crimes. Think kinda like Dr. Facilier’s shadow. Though part of it is also Jackie just,,, not handling grief well tbh. He’s gradually losing more of his sanity over time and his morals are quickly greying.

News breaking out about a huge spike in murders and the other egos learning of it, then catching Jackie in/after the act and being Very Stricken.

After first finding out Jackie is behind all the brutal murders, Henrik does some,,, Dumb Choices and the end result is him being “fused” with Anti in a way. He did it to try and stop his best friend(s apparently? At least that’s what Jackie said...). He swears. But the results are not what he expected and Anti has a little more control than he anticipated and now he’s gotta deal with that AND trying to bring Jackie to his senses or just put him out of his misery.

Witnessing what their friend has done to himself, more or less because of them, Marvin’s absolutely BITCH-SLAPPED (temporarily? there are definitely some Lasting Effects no matter where the story goes here) out of his way of thinking. Now he has to try and stop or at LEAST reign Jackie in a little. To undo all the twisted shit he’s implanted into Jackie’s mind and what a monster he’s created.

Maybe some Spicy Resurrection shit goes down somewhere in the future to bring Marv back. (*nudges Phoenix Marvin concept the community has*)

Whether Marvin comes back or not, now Jackie and Henrik gotta make a Long, Whump-Filled “Recovery” together and MMMMMM SUPERDRUG ANGST. >:D

I dunno how involved I’m gonna get in this idea because it feels more like a story idea than a whole AU, but even just this concept post is a good summary for me. Maybe I’ll doodle some concepts for Jackie and Henrik

I doodled a Jackie a while back but he looks like All My Other Jackies and I wanna change that. Killer in the Mirror is from a blue-themed album so his appearance might be more blue and green than his iconic red. Obviously even if primarily blue, he’ll have RGB all in him Somewhere, its just His Colors, yknow?

#jacksepticeye #killer Jackie #killer Jackieboy #KITM AU #Isa Writes #jackieboy man #henrik von schneeplestein #dr schneeplestein #marvin the magnificent #antisepticeye #septicegos

[inmyarmswrappedin]

Thoughts on each even, you don’t have to answer. You just have some of the better skam opinions on this site.

Hi 🤩💫 First off, flattery will get you absolutely everywhere with me, anon, thank you so much haha. 

I took a few days to think about how best to answer this ask because most of the Evens don’t feel so different to me that I could think of many things to say about each one. But then I thought I’d approach the Evens through their art style. 

I was a bit of an Even in high school— liked 90s hip hop, fell in love a lot, was a bit of a dreamer and a romantic, doodled and tried my hand at different art projects with mixed results, etc. So in talking about the Evens, I’m also going to talk a bit about myself if you don’t mind! 

I’m also not going to rank them this time, let me know if you want me to rank them (or to rank anything else about Skams, idc).

Even - I like Even’s drawing style and I feel it suits him very well. He never had an insta, but Isak’s season banner features a good amount of his drawings, plus the ones we saw on the show. He’s obviously influenced by American hip hop and comic culture, what with the COOLCAT, the weed, the crown, the diamonds… and the dicks. I’m very fond of Even’s Illuminati eye surrounded by boners, lol. It really feels like the kind of things a boy like Even (who loves Romeo + Juliet and Pretty Woman and Gabrielle, but also Nas and Lars von Trier and Stjerner uden hjerner and FIFA) would draw. I like that Even felt inspired by his conversations with Isak and pushed through his own fears to make art directly referencing things Isak said. Even felt scared by the possibility of parallel universes, but in order to show Isak how much he cared, his drawings for Isak all referenced parallel universes. I also like that Even’s art style is not stereotypically cute. It reminds me of the borderline gross style of Daniel Clowes and Peter Bagge.

Niccolò - Okay, so at this point I think we’re all aware that Skam Italia didn’t even have the budget for insta content, and they clearly didn’t have the budget to hire an artist specifically to create Niccolò’s art. He does have lots of drawings in his room, but then he doesn’t really draw anything for Martino? It feels like Niccolò is more of an arts and crafts kind of person, at least to me. Anyway I like that (aside from the red string of fate, which never got a follow up of any kind) the stuff Niccolò makes for Martino all reference Last Man on Earth, the TV show they bond over, in one way or another. The show is really not what I would call epic romance material, which I feel works for them tbh!

Eliott - My thing with both Eliott’s furry thing and Polaris, is that both seem really cute, but ultimately like… they didn’t mine either thing for all it was worth, I guess I would put it. Also, in comparison to other Evens, Eliott’s thing is almost developed (Eliott is after all a fictional character, not a real person) in order to elicit maximum cooing from its audience. Like, no one would say the illuminati boners or Last Man on Earth are objectively cute, not out of context! (And I’m far from a Skam Italia fan, I’m just saying.) But the hedgehog and the raccoon and the cat are all drawn in a very cute style. It feels a little too saccharine sweet for a 18-year old. However, Maxence not looking like a 18-year old might also play a part in my hesitance, because as a 18-year old I legit drew a full on comic about me and my then crush as superheroes fighting against our teachers in order to conquer college admittance tests together. (Like I said, Even and I have some shit in common lol.) And I drew my crush as a cat because he looked like a cat to me. So where the hell do I get off criticizing Eliott, y’know? As for Polaris, it’s like… Okay, so one is afraid of the light and one is afraid of the dark, and they meet and kiss right outside the cave, what else? It’s like, it’s cute and romantic, right, but not very developed as a season long motif.

David - I mean, do I have to say it? I love David and everything about him. I love that he has different art styles and uses different tools, it’s very realistic for someone his age still trying to find what his specific thing is. I love his sketches and his collages and the fact that he has a vampire persona that he draws in thicker lines. I love that he didn’t initially have an insta, and that he only got it because Sara and Leonie needled him about it, and I love that he didn’t post selfies or pictures of himself until he went through his character development. I love that his vampire persona crap is only for Matteo and he doesn’t post those cartoons on his very serious, very aesthetic insta. I love that his vampire persona looks similar to the Magdalene Hanke-Basfeld illustrations for the Angela Sommer-Bodenburg “The Little Vampire” book series. (I have no idea whether it’s intentional/an homage or just me seeing things where I wanna see them, but I loooove it.) I love that his first posts on insta really just seem kind of random (aside from the bird taking flight ofc) and like they don’t have a connection to the s3 storyline, it’s as if David really existed and made art and had ideas and thoughts before he met Matteo. I get such a kick of David’s sense of humor, like he seems kind of angry at the cliche of being barefoot on the beach and having a good time (ZUM KOTZEN!!!). Lol he’s just so delightful. I love that he can’t post a goddamn pic or video without a filter, oh no that’s simply not him!!!!1 And let me tell you about the time he made a highlights folder and named it Nights on Earth, I almost lost it on twitter I had such a great time. Anyway, David’s art and insta really scream that he’s a bit of a pretentious snob who corrects people on proper terminology and will only make cute things for the person he cares about the mostest AND NO ONE ELSE. PERIODT!

Joana - I’m a bit torn about Joana because I’m not into her more anime-esque stuff, but at the same time, god, if that isn’t me. I learned to draw by watching anime and trying to emulate the style, and because I’ve never really taken lessons, my cartoons just scream anime. I’m a bit embarrassed about it, because weeaboos and what not, and that extends to Joana as well lol. Before I revisited the Evens’ stuff for this ask, I had this idea in my mind that Joana’s art is a bit unrealistic because it seems too polished and professional for her character, but really, that’s just the piece that she in character made for the hospital/the BDP project. The stuff on the show and on her insta is actually believable as doodles or pieces she can put a bit more effort into, but aren’t like, art gallery-ready. I like that Joana started posting black and white doodles from graph paper notebooks (ftr this is the kind of notebooks most Spanish students use, lined or blank paper notebooks not so much), and started adding colors and creating more complex pieces as her relationship with Cris progressed. I think it says so much about Joana that the cartoons that represent her are always in some kind of pain, physical or emotional, but the cartoons that represent Cris (including the toads) are always cute, always happy, always desirable. Like, be more in love pls. I love that Joana is a bit of an edgelord, and uses a lot of imagery related to arrows, knives, tears/blood drops. That’s so accurate of girls like her. I love that the season banner has an actual to god vulva on it. Compared to other Evens, Joana seems more focused on drawing than anything else, so maybe that makes her video for Cris’ birthday not plausible, but on the other hand, I feel like Croana shippers could’ve used more cuteness in week 10, so you know what? Imma take that video, copypasta of “Gutten som ikke klarte å holde pusten under vann” as it is. I hope that Joana keeps posting art in s3 and s4, and so we get to see how her style develops. ✨

Sander - I haven’t really watched wtFOCK. 

#skam #druck #skam españa #skam italia #skam france #ask #Anonymous #brain vomit

[thatdoodlebug]

bluewithpurplepolkadots replied to your post “one day ill draw something…………..and i’ll actually be proud of how it...”

Aww I really like how you draw your doodles! But i think I get it a little, when I'm writing at the time or after I immediately post something I'm like: NOPE to the result sometimes, think when you make the thing you see all the 'mistakes' be they real or imagined more.

Thanks. It’s not even noticing the mistakes tbh. I see all of those and have gotten to a point where I’m happy to post things despite that (I gave up being perfectionist about things). But its just so very little improvement. and everything is described as ‘cute’ at best. I wish i could get to a better level than that. 

But yeah I get that too. Sometimes it can be imagined, or you overthink a work??

#bluewithpurplepolkadots

[octavowo]

okay its die time A.K.A. I talk about the horrible cursed thing that’s been taking up my drawing paper these past few months

I think the best place to start with this is at the very beginning. Like what led up to this.

So, I am actually very active on Amino as well. It’s kind of been one of my main channels in terms of where I dump my OC crap among other things. And one of the places I’m most active is the Breath of the Wild community. I’ve been on there for a long time, was on staff for a brief period before I stepped down due to irl things and am still in contact with my fellow mods. Usually if they need an extra opinion on something they ask me, and I tend to be in the know when it comes to upcoming challenges.

And for the unaware, Linksonas are a thing. Versions of Link based on how people play BOTW. So a challenge was being made in the same vein, but it was just for sonas in general, either more OC-like or based on a canon character.

On top of this, while this is a community for BOTW, content from other Zelda games is allowed as well. Which was great for me because I seemed to be one of like. Six people on the entirety of Amino that gave half a shit about Cadence of Hyrule. I had also recently changed my user to Octavo and revamped my profile. And was playing this game constantly because it was the middle of July, I had been unable to get myself a job or something to occupy my time because I had stayed for a summer session at school for credits, which left me with not much to do besides draw and play a shit ton of CoH. I currently have 90+ hours on the game and there are only 2 games I’ve played for more time, one of which I have a feeling it’ll be surpassing soon.

If you haven’t already caught on to where this is going, I’ll be blunt: I thought I was being funny and made this shithead as a joke:

He wasn’t even my entry for the challenge. He was going to be like a bonus. My brain, being both extremely bored and having way too many ideas basically went “haha so you know that sona challenge well your username is Octavo so make a sona based on him”. Which would have been perfectly fine. Until I went and gave him a name and realized about five days later that I kind of really liked him. Also his design is kind of uncreative but I honestly didn’t entirely know what I was doing and ended up playing it very safe. And yes, he wears 3 inch heels because he hates the fact that he’s short.

His name is Larghetta and he is an intelligent, highly unlikeable bastard with zero filter for anyone. He legitimately has more enemies that want him dead than I can count.

He’s also kind of an example of what could happen if Octavo used his freaking brain instead of just getting angry and doing dumb shit. Don’t get me wrong: its the same dumbass plan, but the way I have it for Larghetta is that he tried to warn them, but was brushed off and as a result he was like “well fuck it i’ll do it myself”. Cue the rest of the game. He spends a lot of his time getting peeved at everyone for ignoring him/not taking him seriously. And probably cleaning the castle because he lowkey has nothing better to do and is an absolute neat freak.

Once he gets the everliving crap beat out of him and loses the lute, he actually stops for a moment and considers things before asking Link, Zelda and Cadence for help, as opposed to storming off and getting his ass kicked by the pig. His magic absolutely stinks and he is by NO means a strong guy. Its decent for like. Getting him out of hairy situations but without the Golden Lute? The most he can do to someone is give them a concussion or deafen them. Larghetta is very aware of this fact and really doesn’t want to die so that’s why he asks. The group’s cooperation with him is kind of tenuous at best? Like he’s being very honest about the situation but he’s also a raging asshole that gets on people’s nerves. Namely Cadence—both of them really don’t like each other.

Tbh from there I’ve just been taking him and putting him places because he’s kind of fun. People actually let their OCs interact with him for some godforsaken reason, but usually with the understanding that it’s. Highly unlikely that that Larghetta will like their character or even be nice to them. So, there’s three groups regarding him in a sense: the people who like him, the people who don’t like him or are afraid of him, and the people who think they like him (I’ve dealt with a few people who didn’t seem to understand that he’s an insensitive, opinionated fuckwad and just looked at him and went “hes small and therefore babey owo”). It’s been fun. Idk take more doodles?

And that just about covers this guy. I’m. Not really sure what to say. I enjoy him. He was a joke that got out of hand. But yeah. Larghetta. Take him.

#cadence of hyrule #octavo #larghetta

[explodingcrayon]

i’ve been working on something secret for the upcoming holidays and a bit of a wrench was thrown into that (nothing bad, just now more work than initially intended), so I’m probably going to drop out of inktober this year. I’m a little disappointed with myself, because 2017 I barely popped out a few doodles, and then in 2018 I made 31 full illustrations! I wanted to do that again, to keep improving, but...

I just need to focus my time on other things. And, tbh? I wasn’t really... having fun like I was last year. I don’t know if I’m tired, or just ended up not being as excited for doing the list as I was making the list, but each day coming up with a picture has been exhausting and kind of... boring! I like a few that I’ve made, but I can feel myself forcing out the ideas, and thus I’m not excited about the results. Last year I loved almost every inktober I made--I STILL do! This year, I’m sort of slogging through it for the sake of “completing my own list.”

And I do want to! Just... maybe after this little project is on its way, or once a week, instead of once a day.

#cryptpals is year ‘round, so I might finish the list another time, and I’ll keep checking on the tag on different sites for those that are keeping up with it!

#cryptpals #txt it #i really want to finish it for the sake of like #being the person that made the list and then doing it? #which seems silly and like no one cares who made the list lmao #it's just been fun to like... #help lead the charge??? #which isn't quite the feeling but it's the closest i can to articulating what i'm feeling #so i'm sort of disappointed in myself on a lot of different levels #but i also don't want to just pump out boring crap? #and i'm also so......tired #i dunno man

[aletaevers]

( cisfemale ) haven’t seen ALETA 'PIXIE' EVERS around in a while. the FREYA MAVOR lookalike has been known to be (+) DRIVEN & (+) RESILIENT, but SHE can also be (-) VAIN & (-) UNRELENTING. The 22 year old is a JUNIOR majoring in NURSING. I believe they’re living in TERRA FIRMA, but I popped by earlier and no one answered the door. ( james. 20. EST. she/they. )

i’m......so excited......................like i LOVE aleta and im so iskdjfg !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

pleathe give this a like if u’d like to plot w/ her !!! esp if u have a hendrix bb as they’d know her more ... obv

TW: child abuse, alcoholism, death, violence, grief. just some really tragic shit, man. self loathing.

a e s t h e t i c s

french-pane windows and ivy-coated bricks, silk pajama sets and champagne bubbles, wind through hair and constant, constant running; red cards and penalties, explosive words and hair-tugging, tear-soaked pillows and red eyes in empty bathrooms, the smell of roses and death, loose curls and sharp scissors, fairy tales and their endings -- how bittersweet, nails against desks, against backs, nails down a chalkboard, nails breaking skin. thrown fists and bruised knuckles, late night cereal-runs, getting lost in the woods, sleeping in fields. choking down insults, forced smiles, a wish for comfort.

general information !!

full name: aleta marit evers

nickname(s): pixie, tbd

b.o.d. - june 17th, grand ol’ gemini

label(s): the vixen, the amaranth, the hellcat, etc. etc.

height: 5′8″ tbh

hometown: giethoorn, netherlands

sexuality: bi as hell

pinterest

stats

biography !!

all aleta has ever wanted was to be happy. to just, for once--be content.

born to anton evers, a well-known neurosurgeon and eleanor evers (nee du pont), a talented actress appearing on several tv shows in her youth -- privilege is, essentially, her middle name

her parents met on the set of a hospital show, anton a consultant and eleanor a ‘patient’; it was the kind of love that was volatile and loud and known -- dangerous, in the end, maybe.

this was only possible because eleanor had always dreamed of being a star, instead of inheriting her families’ horse racing business; which thus resulted in her traveling across an entire ocean to pursue her dreams where there wasn’t already a name made for her.

lil fun facts about the evers: anton’s older brother is a partner with their father at evers & evers, and his younger brother is koninklijke marechaussee.

life was normal in the beginning; eleanor had her firstborn, rhys -- a son, which made anton happy. then, her second born, aleta -- a daughter, which made anton less happy. a few years after aleta came laurel, another daughter. and that was that.

it was supposed to be the three of them.

anton evers, in all his glory -- was nothing more than a no-good cheater with a bad temper and a lack of empathy. which, of course, led to his numerous affairs with one of his nurses. which -- in turn, led to the birth of one ramona evers, only to be discovered six years later. 

pre-ramona: when the kids got too much for eleanor, she’d let them fall into the hands of the nannies. plural, as there were many; not all willing to deal with three spoiled devils from the deepest pits of hell. she loved her children, but god, was she not built for motherhood. eleanor spent her days drinking wine and champagne, excessively, while the nannies chased after mud-coated children and faced their tantrums head-first.

their house was old and ~vintage~ and more like a mansion than anything else, a backyard leading into woods--countless woods. this is where aleta spent most of her time, when she got sick of rhys pulling her pigtails and him refusing to play knights and princes with her.

after a severe accident, ramona was suddenly left motherless and thus: custody went to anton. it came to a shock to the entire family, but eleanor the most -- she’d gone six years unknowing of the fact that her husband had another child.

it was like watching their mother turn into a completely different person overnight -- while never cruel to her own children, eleanor was relentless towards ramona. whether it were insults or nails dug into arms; more often than not a martini glass in her hand.

aleta had always loved her mother -- even with nannies looking after her more often than not. in her eyes, her mother and father had a marriage that fairy tales were based off of. anton worked often, but everyday he’d bring home flowers for eleanor; their home was essentially a garden; vases and vases of roses.

if her mother hated ramona then aleta hated ramona. rhys had begun closing up and laurel, out of fear than anything else, stayed clear of the soap opera that was now their life.

these were aleta’s nightmare child gone extreme years. unapologetically violent towards any other student who dared step in her way, she took what she wanted and was a typical bully throughout her school years. she was essentially just. a really angry brat. with dyslexia, which also made school Hard which in turn made her Hate School. 

more often than not, she was alone at home. more often than not, she was in the woods. they were her only source of peace. it was in the woods that she met vos. whether that was his real name, she didn’t know. she didn’t care. he’d gotten his foot stuck in a rabbit hole, and she’d gotten it out. and from that point, they were friends. it was like a fairy tale, which aleta had always been big on. she went by duif, going along with his shenanigans.

together they played knights and princes (aleta, always the knight. always. vos, the prince. always.) practically everyday until sundown, where they’d part ways.

throughout this all, eleanor had been getting worse. her alcoholism had taken an extreme turn for the worst.

when aleta was 12, she found her mother dead. she doesn’t remember much, just red wine mimicking blood and pearls strewn across the room, shattered glass and her own screaming sobs.

the day after the funeral, they moved.

aleta was, essentially, alone in the world after that. rhys had gone off with the bad sort of crowd and had no time for his mourning sister; he was grieving in his own way. laurel had befriended their neighbor, eva, and aleta had immediately taken a dislike towards her. she thought she looked like a rat. aleta told eva that much. and ramona was...off doing ramona things, avoiding her family by any means necessary.

time sort of...flew, after that. aleta channeled her anger through sports--and as she got older, into parties and general reckless activity involving alcohol and whatnot. grief still hung heavy in her throat, but she put on a mask of cynical coldness and became known as the resident bitch. it fit her. she didn’t care.

her moods calmed a bit as she entered university, but not by much tbh.

uuhhh hmmm. met tiago through her brother, and only pursued him because she had overheard ramona gushing to either laurel or eva or whomever the fuck about her little ~faraway crush~. so, like, obviously aleta fucked him? and somehow! they wound up dating! she’s very much in love with him, which terrifies her because she’s very scared of loving someone.

also...........uh......................may have gotten ramona expelled out of sheer pettiness. more on that later. :~)

personality !!

frank, rude, and spiteful -- at least she’s honest. even if her comments are riddled in backhanded compliments and eye-rolling. 

she’s not the....easiest person to befriend. has a habit of really only paying much attention to people she finds interesting; if you bore her then you’re out! thanks for playing!

despite how off-putting she can be, she’s pretty well-known. whether its because of her viciousness on the field in the many, many sports she has played for hendrix, or her presence at parties, or ‘cos she made your cousin or best friend or whomever cry in the bathroom, or y’know. her famous, dead mom.

doesn’t...seem to have a problem with her reputation? likes being seen as this tough, untouchable person.

is soft with very very few people, like, maybe three at the max? and she’s not even soft towards her siblings so difjgkh. one of these people is obv tiago.

she’s endlessly loyal, even if she does flirt with other people to make her bf jealous ?? like, she’d never actually cheat. not after what her father did to her mother. does it excuse her actions ?? fuck no. she’s still a bad person

hates her dad so yay !! daddy issues. p sure papa evers is part of a secret society but, y’know. just dad things.

she’s....very emotional. very prone to sudden spouts of just, anger. it doesn’t take a lot to piss her off, and she’s not a particularly friendly whirlpool.

cries a lot tbh. usually before she sleeps, or in the shower, or in one of the campus bathrooms. doesn’t let people see her cry but like...it’s also not surprising to catch her fixing her eyeliner in the bathroom after an episode.

she’s just in general p moody ?? petty ?? will talk shit to you in dutch, even if u fucking speak it. she doesn’t care. would probably spread a rumor about u just for funsies.

she’s gr8 at parties, usually ‘cos shes too crossed to be actively mean.

like, okay, i’ve made her out to be pretty Horrible but hbjnfdmgh she isn’t going to look at your character and just. start beating them down with words n fists and shit, y’know ?? she might be thinking it, but she’s not That impulsive

is apathetic at best towards most people otherwise, like, idk -- if she doesn’t have a reason, even if its a very small reason, she won’t bother with you. 

this VIDEO right fucking here. GOD. that’s an aleta vibe. it’s probably not something she’d say but just. the tone ?? awful. it gave me flashbacks to middle school when i watched that video.

has a sketchbook which is essentially anatomy notes and like, lil doodles n shit of fantasy scenery n shit

kinda...escapes into her mind sometimes ?? is still in love w the concept of fairy tales and perfect love and just. happiness. like she’s kind of obsessed with it ?? with the perfect image ?? which, hence, leads to her illustrating it. hence why she’s just so. in love. hence why she sabotages everything for herself too ‘cos ! she just sort of hates herself and knows nothing will ever be magical and perfect and shit.

so like, big secret fantasy nerd. probably has tried to sing with birds once when nobody was looking. she cant even sing. she shower sings and like maybe the bathroom acoustics make her sound not horrible but ?? she’s mediocre at best. it’s tragic, really.

there’s sm more, like, she’s just got a lot of feelings and contradicting personality points and she’s udfjighk she’s annoying. that’s what she is. aleta is CANCELED

ok ok ok but GOD is she good at sports ?? like genuinely just. she does like, track, hockey, lacrosse, tennis prolly idk, maybe other shit. and like granted she gets angry n then gets penalized for almost beating a girl down but isjkdfg she’s good at sports 

got the nickname ‘pixie’ on the field ‘cos shes fast and also has bitten a few people and is just very aggressive

EDIT: i forgot to mention that she !! stopped relying on her father for money (this does not include....stealing from him, which she most definitely does!!) and she’s kinda paying for things w/ savings and like...soon, she’ll get a job, i promise uhdfijfkg 

wanted connections !!

like...two close friends. pleathe, for her sanity.

uuuuuHHH god, just enemies of all sorts. ex-friends or never-friends or exes before tiago. people she’s talked shit about, or spread shit about

maybe she fucking poured her alcohol on ur muses’ head during a party

GOD i don’t know she drops people so much !!

other....friends, y’know, that she isn’t ~close~ to, but she gets along with fairly well

people she flirts with to make her bf jealous !! because she’s awful !!

temptations...b/c commitment is difficult for her b/c of y’know. her parents. not an actual affair but just...y’know. checking each other out, flirtatious banter, the whole ‘no i can’t ive got a boyfriend’ and shit like that.

teammates !!

dead parents club.

somebody who caught her crying in the bathroom hfdjgkh whether theyre concerned for some fucking reason or r straight up like ‘lmao...u deserve it’

ummm give me rhys ?? and laurel ?? or people who know them

rhys is a drug dealer so like.............she prolly knows a few ppl who get their drugs from him

friends of ramona’s before she uh . . . disappeared / got expelled

good influences who r like ‘stop being such a fucking dick aleta get ur shit together’

cousins !! she prolly has a ton

maybe......an online friend ?? who shes known for a while ??

bad influences who r like >:3 yes stay angry. stay bad. here, break this fucking window with this bat. yes, good.

literally i will take anything sjkfdg

people she’s tormented ??? has bullied ?? has embarrassed ???

#water:intro #child abuse tw #alcoholism tw #death tw #grief tw #violence tw

[boymeetsweevil]

bts as boyfriends

a/n: tbh this was basically a list of things i just had swirling around in my head and its basically a continuation of my moments w/ bts and sleepovers w/ bts

Kim Seokjin

Squishes your cheeks together in his big ol’ hands because he can and because he thinks you look cute that way

Is highkey a fan of having matching stuff, but not full-blown couple outfits

thats where he draws the line >:|

Created a separate instagram account just to document the meals you guys have together on your date nights

Dumb (but cute) snapchats of him doing that fast yelling thing he does but he just tells you how much he misses you rly aggressively

also spams you with selfies and videos from other members’ accounts

Pets names hmmm

prefers to call you Doll 

yeobo seems too serious (its what his parents call each other)

Sweetie/Honey makes him feel like an old woman

On your one year anniversary he gave you a 5000 dollar watch but presented it in a box wrapped in printer paper that had his face printed all over it that he made in Microsoft word with some of the editing crew’s help

all of his gifts get wrapped this way 

Jin Is scary serious when you take a selfie together

“Babe, this isn’t the angle--quick lets move over here so we can still catch the light” ***proceeds to sprint ahead of you to some random spot where the lighting is optimal and hurry u over like “ >:( cmon the sun is setting” ***

Is not your typical PDA type, will do weird things just to embarrass you

puts his hand in your back pocket while you’re in the starbucks line and smiles when you give him incredulous side eye

rests his phone on your head to mock you for being shorter than him

Links arms with you like old lady gal pals while you’re walking because he knows you HATE IT

fake moans when you swat his arm for being weird and embarrassing

you shushing him and ending up just glaring because he has no shame and there’s an old man glaring at u on the subway

You can bet he tests out recipes on you!

some of ur most romantic nights have been when you come over just casually but the whole house smells like food he’s been tweaking

you sit at a stool by the kitchen island and he comes by with like 8 different sauces you need to try and noodles to test for texture

He is the type of boyfriend that thinks its funny to gross you out

he eats food the fell on the floor just to piss you off

will kiss u while he’s chewing gum :(

touches u with his bare feet  :((((((

Min Yoongi

Is less bold but NEVER lacking with his affection

Likes to take walks in any weather

E.g. Loves when its rainy because then you have to huddle close because he INSIsts on sharing an umbrella

E.g. Will even walk in the winter/end of fall because he likes to share mittens and scarves - this is the closest thing to cheesy you will ever get with him

Isn’t the type to send selfies

if he does, its just of his shoes of the day with an ironic caption like “rate my fit and i’ll follow back” 

Readily accepts all of your selfies, though

Upgraded his phone 2x just so he could have the extra storage to save all your photos

a lot of them are blackmail worthy, which is the reason for saving them half the time

Yoongi Is a champ when you get drunk

will hold your hair back

lets you spit your gum out into his bare fucking hand before u hurl and will not flinch 

rejects all of your lewd propositions, but may record you and play back your whiny drunk voice the next morning to make you reconsider taking shots next time (PS u dont ever reconsider)

he likes home dates too, obvi

usually you schedule naps at his place because everything about his bedroom is better than yours

mattress is huge and the perfect firmness

sheets are higher thread-count 

can sleep with his hand up your shirt all he wants because he doesn’t have any roommates at his own place

pillows are always cool to the touch BUT

he might schedule dates at your place if he’s been away and just wants to bury himself in your smell. Speaking of...

...Yoongo is a smeller

he is always smelling you, loves how you smell

He smells your hair while zoning out waiting for his americano to come out when ur at a cafe

He’ll wrap himself around you from behind and sniff your neck idly while he plays candy crush on your belly while u try to cook dinner

Nicknames vary on his mood/your behavior

brat - for when you’re being a brat duh

kid - default, all purpose and a little mocking

your last name when he’s feeling rowdy

your first name when he’s emotional

Jung Hoseok

Hobi always runs full force at u when he sees you even if you’ve been in each other’s faces all week

Whenever he’s bored and you’re nearby he’ll moonwalk around you

You love to watch him practice but you also hate it because if you make eye contact he’ll come over and try to pull you in to teach you

He’s tried to teach you to dance dozens of times and you never get any of his choreo

usually it ends in him maneuvering you into a slow 2 step

which then always becomes a tiny makeout session

but honestly so many other random activities you do together turn into makeout sessions because tbh hob is a bit of a greaseball

this means that half the time you’re ignoring him pawing at u and making cheesy jokes during inopportune times 

the other half of the time ur dragging him by the collar and looking for an empty room to take him into because u dig him and his cheesy horndog antics

He’s also lowkey highkey a dudebro

crowds you because he wants to chest bump and ur like “-.- again?”

kept trying to get your secret couple greeting to be that little surfer hand thingie he does with tae sometimes and u said no because neither of u are 8 anymore

likes spontaneous dates, so usually you’ll text him wyd and if he’s free he’ll just answer ‘coming to get u now’ and then you sigh and slip on your shoes and wonder when you’ll be able to have a date where its not 10:30 at night and you’re not wearing sweats and ur not going out just to go eat some chicken by the Han

You utilize all your privileges that you have dating him to visit Mickey

any time there is a break in the guys’ scheduling you say you want to visit mickey

He lowkey hates those days because you just lie on the floor next to mickey and eat the snacks his mom puts out and COMPLETELY ignore him

u and his sister take turns petting mickey and telling embarrassing stories about hob while he sulks in the corner

he gets revenge by taking 20 pics of ur back and doodling horns on ur head and spamming u with them

Probably would call you a bunch of weird things as a pet name

ducky, peaches, cutie, hotpot, captain etc.

sometimes calls you sweet thang but only when its after dark and he’s trying to make moves

Hobi is the type to always want idle touch but its not exclusively sexy u kno?

if you’re watching tv together he’ll have an arm slung over you

if you’re out to dinner, he gravitates towards booths so he can press his shoulder against yours

if you’re chilling in bed you HAVE to be rubbing his arm or else he’ll give you the most ridiculous pout [its so cute tho :’C ]

Thinks you’re the funniest person alive, is always laughing at stuff you said whether if was supposed to be a joke or not

which means he does that deep hiccuping giggle all the time and you just :’))))))

He’s so patient and let’s you test out all your new skin care products on him because he likes having your hands on his face and the way you talk softly half to him, half to yourself while you talk about what you’re doing

maybe its ASMR lmao

Kim Namjoon

The first thought you had after you started dating was that you could touch his dimples any time you wanted

so naturally you do

he has long since gotten used to you just touching them while he’s driving, reading, listening to music, just existing

the first time you did it he was just talking to you about something and when he felt your finger nudge his dimple 

Joon: “I feel like if we visited in the spring we could go frog catching and maybe then we could-----*you jam your finger into his dimple*

You: and? what were you saying?

Joon: uhhhh I forgot :0

a fan of couple outfits but not in the same sense Jin. its more like he likes to plan your outfits

he gets really excited when he thinks of something you would look good in and always gets really bashful right before he shows it to you because he wants you to like it

he has great taste and is very observant of u and ur style so there has never been a time where he has planned an outfit for u and u looked less than amazing

same for photos, he takes really good artsy photos of you all the time

thats what 80% of dates with him are

walking through the city at night so he can take a picture of you with the city scape behind you

or going to those instagram-able cafes in the city during their slow hours so he can pictures of your coffees and you sitting next to a pastel neon sign that says like Love Hurts or something edgy like that

taking photos like that one girl and her bf who travel alot on ig, u know the one

but u never actually manage to get a good shot like that because ur always like ‘joon my arm hurts why dont u be the girl’

He’s in general big on googling popular activities and getaways and making a big deal of documenting it 

as a result: he’s been working on a scrapbook and he thinks you don’t know but you and all 6 other members and even Bang PD know about the scrapbook

he gives it to you on your anniversary and even though youre expecting it, you cry

he takes photos of that too and it goes in the one for next yr lol

He calls you baby of course

but not in an exaggerated/pronounced way

it comes out super naturally and he says it more than he says your actual name

u better Get used to just turning around and catching him giving you that one soft smile he does with his whole face 

“is there something on my face?” 

“no, just enjoying the view <3”

Always wants to make your plate when u visit his home, and always ALWAYS gives you too much food

going there and realizing that maybe its a family thing as you watch his mom heftily scoop vegetables onto his dad’s plate while his dad looks on in worry about where he’s going to fit it

Using Joon’s lap as a pillow!!!

he can read and stroke your head while you snooze

him humming off key because he thinks it helps you sleep

Park Jimin

Before you started dating, Jimin seemed like the guy that everyone loves because he’s effortlessly cool and charming

And he is even after you start dating BUT

He is also a little praise monster and lives for your compliments

Jimin takes advantage of the fact that you are obviously enamored with him and will do things to fluster you on purpose

runs his hands through his hair because he knows you can’t look away

gets unnecessarily close to tell you things because he knows you get goosebumps when he whispers in your ear

plays chicken with you all the time

slow looks at u until u squirm

HE’s a menace

but also reminds you of a bumblebee

Jimin loves to go to see the latest comedy movies and those are always fun

Not because the movies are actually that funny (lowkey he has really bad taste in comedy movies), but because he will LOSE IT in the middle of the theatre and end up slumped over the armrest just laughing his head off

Cue the high squeaky laugh where he can’t even see the movie screen anymore because his eyes are squeezed shut :3

After the movie he always tries to retell funny scenes like

“And then *laughs* did you see the part where the guy *laughs* *laughs more* and then he *dolphin noises*

“Yeah, Minnie it was funny”

He always wants you to come to the gym with him because he gets an unnecessary amount of motivation from those gym couple accounts on instagram

You go in your big t-shirt and shorts and he goes in a similar outfit 

It always ends up with u watching him because again he looks good when he lifts weights and does squats

he likes the attention too 

Calls u cutie

but thinks its funny to sometimes address u as his favorite anime villian’s name ur always like hmm time to go now

He’s a feeder kinda like joon

YOu can’t ever eat anything by yourself, he always wants to cut things for you, spoon feed you 

he’s very caring

This means he also is super attentive when ur sick and will bring u soup and play cards in bed and always refresh ur water and bother u about taking medicine

Kim Taehyung

Everything with Taehyung is beautiful and u feel beautiful with him which is so amazing and crazy at the same time

He is a big cheerleader for u he loves everything u do

You made a badly folded origami and he shouted cute and was so genuine and got it laminated somehow and keeps it as a keychain accessory

He’s always showing you things

like some of his favorite classical art pieces that he’s saved pictures of on his phone

sometimes he tells you about how he can’t wait to plan the perfect trip to europe with u so u can visit some of his favorite pieces face to face

Always showing u his new (and old) favorite songs and movies

some of ur dates are going to see old films or foreign films at this one really hip theatre in the city

he bought a gramophone a little while back before u started dating and he loves to play records for you and lie with you on the floor and show u  the best parts of the song with his hands in the air

He has a fancy camera too that he uses to document “special moments”

when u asked him how come he always uses it to take picture of u then he was like everything with u is special and u had to tackle him and cover his whole face in kisses because he cant just say things like that without facing the consequences

He keeps a journal where he doodles in the margins and writes songs and poems that only some people have seen like yoongi or jimin

he tried to draw you once and it came out looking a little strange but he’s still learning and u love him for it

He also gets soo sooo excited when you show him your favorite things

u dont do it as much because they dont seem as cultured or pretty but u show him a movie from ur childhood that u still watch once or twice a year and his eyes were huge the whole time and he was so glad to watch it with you

Calls u Jagi because he likes what it means and its truly accurate

U guys are just on the same wavelength and he really appreciates that u dont find him weird or quirky or overly pretentious even

u finish each others sentences and can predict moods pretty well its a little scary for the guys to watch u talk to each other in half sentences and know what the other means

When u first met, it was through Joon because he thought u guys would click and he was super nervous and worried because a lot of ppl don’t really GET him

Maybe at ur blind date a song came on in the restuarant u were in and it was a song he really liked

and then u were really shyly like “it feels like when you find a really special spot in the woods that nobody knows about” and hes like

“yeah, it really does” and then goes home and writes ur name 20 times in his notebook before getting the courage to call u about a 2nd date

Jeon Jungkook

You already know what it is with this kid: MEME CENTRAL

seriously ur texts are like 80% reaction pictures you downloaded off the internet that just get cycled over and over again because they’ve started to replace certain common phrases and emotions

Yoongi tried to jack JKs phone once and read the messages out loud to the members to try and embarrass him and he actually couldn’t read the last 24 hours of messages because it was literally all pictures/emojis

JK thinks ur laugh is the best sound he’s ever heard and is always trying to bring it out

he makes so many weird faces

those also become memes in the chat

he does so many exaggerated moves from choreo just to get u to crack up

does random weird things with his voice at inappropriate times to get u to choke

Like Jimin he is a praise monster

he wants u to think he’s impressive because he thinks ur very accomplished and cool and he’s still very much the young shy boy he was before joining the band.

Does flips because he knows u love it and won’t leave u alone until u confirm that u are in fact watching

JK: “Hey, hey, watch this LOOK are u looking?”

YOU: “Yes oh my god what?”

JK:*Does a backflip*

YOU:.........DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDEEE WTF ITS LIT IN HERE

JK: *internally* i can die now

Get ready for some next level cuteness OMG

the little nose scrunch will become the most frequent thing

u will be ruffling his hair and it’ll tickle so he’ll scrunch his nose and u’ll just explode its amazing

The BABY SMILE every time its been a while since you’ve seen each other

You’ll practically tackle him and he loves it and spins u around a little too fast

Those big sparkly eyes that he has?????

prepare for those when its his night to cook but he doesn’t feel like it and says he wants to order pizza for the billionth time

You can’t say no to him ever

gaming is not your thing but he will rope you into a 3 hour Fortnight tutorial because u love him

Not really big on pet names, or like any names for that matter

but he will use your actual name for when he wants ur undivided attention

Is scared that you think he’s immature so sometimes he’ll try to go a day without making a joke and then its ur job to try your hardest to crack him up

this is good because ultimately u also love his high pitched loud laugh 

#bangtan bookclub #bttnetwork #btswriters #hyunglinenetwork #networkbangtan #bangtan #bts fanfic #bangtan fanfic #bangtan imagines #bangtan scenario #bts scenarios #bts imagines

[mariilen]

HIYA LUNE SWEETIE I HOPE YOU’RE RESTING💕 for the ask thing 1-3-6~~

HEYA NENE!! I'm actually feeling way better than a few days ago thanks to resting, tho I still feel bad for not doing much djekfjzk THANK YOU FOR ASKING THESE!!

1- Take a picture of your workspace

I actually had to clean up a bit because there was so many things on my desk dnfjeje but yeah that's where I always draw!! Its a mess of cables, I know... and the desk is actually super thin and fragile and I definitively have to get a new one because its getting really dangerous since its starting to break and,,,, i don't want to loose my stuff

Plus it actually is pretty small and doing traditional art is a pain because I have to move everything

There's also so wip of a map for a pokemon thing im making but its like barely started and barely a doodle too so I won't show it

Yes, a polar bear is holding my sticky notes that I use all the time because I can't remember ANYTHING and yes its next to random pokemon cards I found and its sitting on the thing I use to store my traditionnal art supplies!! Oh and you can see my stylus and pens a bit too

My desk is a mess really (and its clean right now so imagine is messy)

3- Show a thing you last drew, no matter how small or a “doodle” it is.

The last thing I drew is this doodle :

I think I was really bored and just drew this nameless character for...no reason tbh

As for details, YES it is a cintiq and I'm so happy I got it and I love it so much sob

6- Draw a same pic with your dominant and non-dominant hand.

So I tried to draw a human quickly but it wouldn't cooperate so I drew the other thing I could do quickly, so I ended up drawing an Umbreon (yeah, pokemon again?? Im in a pokemon mood these days)

Here's the result!

I told myself I wouldn't erase anything on the left hand part to make it even more challenging but it ended up being atrocious fjjqkt

I'm actually cracking up at how bad the left hand one looks gksjgnsjg the face isn't even straight but it was fun!!

Sorry for the super fast doodles but it's like 12:30 am and I'm still a bit sick and I definitively don't have the mind to draw big things sobs

Hope you like the result anyway!! Thank you for asking these Nene!!! Have a good day!!

#asks #these were really fun!! #random doodles

[sternenteile]

★*･ lovely ooc meme.

TAGGED BY:  y’all i stole it from multiple ppl on my dash TAGGING:  idk just take it from me and let the thief train continue

NAME:  nikki NICKNAME:  nikkibun, bun, assturd AGE:  26 weeps......... FACE CLAIM:  my bunsona!! my bunsona’s icons are so old and crusty tho so i’ve just. been using geno’s. rip. PRONOUNS:  she / her, but they / them is fine, too! HEIGHT:  5′3″ i am berry tinie BIRTHDAY:  april 4th

AESTHETIC:  cute animals (namely bunnies and cats), a basic n64 with a purple controller, pastels, piles of tasty chicken wings, and. and. more terribly charismatic buns.

LAST SONG YOU LISTENED TO:  y’all listen the lavender town theme from pokemon lgpe is absolutely destroying me and it was absolutely the last thing i listened to. i love it.

FAVORITE MUSE ( S ) YOU’VE WRITTEN:  my boy papyrus ( @outbraves ) was easily one of my favorites ever. i just had... so much fun with him and had a lot of development for him, and just. i have such fond memories of rping him. i love my bone boy, even though his muse has long gone.

tbh, tho? geno is climbing up there, too. in so short a time, i’ve already got so many ideas and so much development plotting going on. given how expansive the mario universe is, too (esp. compared to undertale’s), there is just... so much room for different things to do with him?! i’m really excited. the potential is bananas.

WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO TAKE ON YOUR CURRENT MUSE ( THAT YOU ARE POSTING THIS ON ):  ok i’m not going to lie. this is a bit of a story, and it starts off in a very interesting way. at first, i actually... didn’t really give a single floppy titty for geno? seriously. i didn’t care. i played smrpg and i just fell for mallow that much more. i was like, gee, i wonder what people see in him. he’s cool and cute, but mallow has all this development and stuff! basically, based on my memories of smrpg and how ‘overrated’ i felt he was, i just didn’t really give geno much of a chance.

now, rosalina is my favorite mario character. ever. i used to rp her a long time ago. i absolutely adore her. thanks to smash speculation really bringing geno to the forefront of peoples’ minds again, i was like, huh. i wonder what kind of lore could come from her and geno? a lot of stuff i saw was implicating ship stuff, and i was... not impressed LMAO. i was like, naw, i see them being like mother and son. he’s a star spirit, after all, very similar to a luma. she’d totally be his superior + mom figure.

and then i started headcanoning more between them, which... via causation, started the headcanon train going for geno in general? i was like, no, i’m not going to get attached to this dumb doll, he’s overrated, blah blah. then i started thinking of him more, started doodling him, seeing why people liked him so much, and i was like... fuck. shit. damn. i used to have a weird disdain for you, you fuck puppet, why are you wiggling your way into my heart. no. get out.

needless to say, he didn’t get out, and i had to unleash my creativity with him. i missed rping, too, and i was like... this, this will do. voila. here we are.

WHAT ARE YOUR FAVORITE ASPECTS OF YOUR CURRENT MUSE:  where do i even begin omg... ok. let’s see.

first, his design in general is just? really great. he’s a design that fits in the mario universe while also feeling so unlike it. mallow feels more integrated, yet geno feels... so... otherworldly? so different? his design philosophy hinges on round, soft familiarity while also being colorful, complimentarily so, and encapsulating it in a way that comes off as both cute and mysterious. i just love his design. even in all of my disdain for him initially, i’m pretty sure i always liked his design.

with that shallower bit out of the way, let me tell you about the virtues this boi has that i love (or, at least, in terms of my version, most of it not being canon oops). i love how courageous and forward he is, even if at times, it results in some fumbling. he’s fascinated in the world around him and has an innate desire to explore, to experiment, to experience. he gets pretty into it, but it does result in some very silly moments where his cultural differences play a large factor. he’s so distant from the modern world in a lot of ways, and it shows. between this and his curious nature, he’s just... god, he’s just a dork. he’s just a huge dork.

but boy, his vices. he doesn’t have much of... any at all in canon, but it’s clear how attached to his duty he is, even in what little we see. building flaws off of that has been a blast. i love how he feels so tied to his purpose that he feels branching out isn’t an option, yet it conflicts with his desire to break free and just be. he’s still figuring out how to be his own person, how to be geno and not just ♡♪!?, the protector of star road. even then, he’s trying not to fail his most precious person, rosalina, and those who depend on him. it’s a lot of conflict that pulls his heart in a lot of directions at once. chances are that he’ll progress and then harshly regress multiple times, going through a bunch of shit before he finally manages to find a happy medium. it’ll be a long road ahead, and what can stem from this has me soooo excited.

also he’s just rly cute. did i mention he’s cute? he’s so cute. he’s literally a doll and i need to cuddle him.

WHAT’S YOUR BIGGEST INSPIRATION WHEN IT COMES TO WRITING:  honestly? steven universe and undertale have played huge inspiration into the way i write. undertale is obviously because i love it (and deltarune) and have written a muse from it. it’s just kind of integrated into my writing to the point that it feels natural. it’s... it’s something that’s just there now, lmao.

steven universe, however, is more particular. it hasn’t really influenced how i write in general, per se, but some aspects have inspired my geno, actually. garnet’s cool demeanor with inner conflict and a goofiness that she often shows? yeah, that definitely inspired a good chunk of my geno’s exterior personality. 

in terms of his inner self, those bits of garnet, plus the pearl + rose and steven + rose conflicts, pretty much shaped that up in my head. pearl + rose on its base level minus the romantic aspect definitely touches stone on how geno feels about his duty, his dedication to rosalina, and how he’s trying to become his own person, not just a star spirit in servitude. steven + rose more represents the mother + son aspect, the way geno wants to live up to her and what she wants, the way he views her as a parental figure that’s just unattainable (even if in a more figurative sense than steven and rose). there’s also a tiny, tiny bit of lapis in there, solely the tendency to flip a switch and bail if he thinks it’s best, just for less selfish reasons and more dutiful reasons. it’s. it’s very minuscule and very base-level, but it’s there.

in terms of geno himself, those two have to be my biggest inspirations at this point. ye.

FAVORITE TYPES OF THREADS:  god. anything is great, but these two are especially important:

slice-of-life. given geno’s distance from earth traditions, customs, and general livelihood, slice-of-life threads are immediately that much more interesting and even a bit crazy. being able to show how much of a curious little nerd he is and Hecking Things Up is always a good time.

finally, anything that draws out his insecurities. something that conflicts with his view on his purpose in life, that stirs his longing for parental recognition, that turns his beliefs on their heads... things like that. just. yes. gimme that.

BIGGEST STRUGGLE IN REGARDS TO YOUR CURRENT MUSE:  honestly, the fact that he’s such an old character that nintendo and square doesn’t care for is easily the worst part of playing him. it’s rough knowing that, even with all of the fan demand, he’ll likely never get a revival. he’ll just fade out of a lot of peoples’ memories more and more, and he’ll be even more irrelevant than ever. every time someone so much as knows who geno is, it just makes me giddy. i want that to stay alive, even if nintendo and square won’t do anything with him. the fan base keeping him going makes me feel so warm.

#★ ; ( ooc. ) #★ ; ( meme. ) #wow this got really really long.

[mysplaced-pen]

RFA on MC nails, what size they like and what color of enamel they think they look best on it

hope you like it, dear💛

[ A.N. : I personally think none of the rfa would care about nail sizes or colors, so this is more of a nail polish adventures with the rfa huhuhu ]

zen

it was their weekly at home spa day 

mc needed to cut their nails and honestly just decided to paint them

since they had quite a few colors, they asked zen to pick one for them

and as he looked through them, he found himself kind of wanting to try one

like, he picked one for mc pretty quickly, but he just…kept looking

he actually painted his nails once, but it was just a clear coat and now he was Curious

mc noticed and offered to paint them for him

it ended up really cute, with zen’s painted red except for his pinkies, which were a light blue

of course, mc’s nails were matching - a light blue with their pinkies being red 

he was kind of worried about the director saying something, but it turned out alright~

matching like that became custom, it didn’t even matter if the colors didn’t match

yoosung

yoosung really just wanted to help mc paint their nails

he thought it would be cute, and they were really stressed lately 

maybe this would help a little?

mc thinks its a cute idea and agrees, letting him pick the color

it takes him a bit, but he settles on a light purple

he’s pretty good at it! there’s not a huge mess, but he does have to redo a couple of them

mc decides to repay him by painting his nails, too!

they pick a dark green and to be honest, yoosung’s already impressed with how clean they were compared to him

but then they start doing a little bit or nail art, in the form of a litlle dog print

he’s ecstatic. really really wants to learn how to do that

from now on, they both have a little piece of nail art on one nail

jaehee

jaehee didn’t paint her nails at all

but she wanted to. it was a small step, better than dying her hair

so mc took her! and decided to get theirs done as well, so they could both relax

they picked each other’s colors - mc picking a pink for jaehee and jaehee picking a teal for mc

jaehee ended up having a lot of fun

she kept obsessing over both of their nails and was already planning her next color

but she also wants to learn how to do it herself

its not that hard, she figures, and she’s right

actually amazing with it after doing 3 fingers

she shows mc her progress and they’re pretty impressed tbh. and then mc shows her nail art

they still do come back to get them done, but jaehee does it more often

jumin

mc kind of just wanted to paint their nails one day, without going anywhere

plus they had the color the wanted already, so they decided to just do it themselves

jumin came home to them in the living room, in a robe and singing along to music coming from a speaker nearby 

he walked over and kissed their head, as custom, before noticing what they were doing

if he was honest, he was kind of curious

and mc, being mc, noticed. so they offered to paint his

he didn’t think to object, not like he was going to, but now his nails were black

….he liked it

looked up nail polish brands to see which were the best ones and came across nail art

practices on himself before asking mc if he could try it on them too

when he does, he paints a little rose~

707 / luciel / saeyoung

honestly it started when saeyoung wanted to change his color

after letting his fingers air out for a while, he asked mc’s opinion on a color

specifically anything but green, since that was his last one

mc agreed to help if he did theirs too so he did~

to make things interesting, they agreed to not look until the other was done

they picked a shade of yellow to match his glasses 

and in return, he picked a neon, highlighter shade of green

when they looked at their nails, they kind of stared at it for a second before they started cracking up

of course, they kept it

decided to make it a bit better by putting some doodles. saeyoung put a little ‘707

ironically, that became the norm. 

v / jihyun

jihyun offered offhandedly once

and mc decided well..’why not’

it was a lot of fun! they made a whole day of it

V was honestly pretty experienced already, since he did it to himself

mc insisted that they have their nails the same color as his hair

as well as insisted that they paint his in return

they picked a silver that had a bit of glitter in it 

the time it took to do this also made it a great time to just chat

jihyun hadn’t laughed that much in a long time now

mc was really happy to see him smiling and having fun, even if it resulted in a little mess

a little sun was also painted on two of mc’s fingers though, so it was worth it 

#mystic messenger #mysme #mystic messenger hc #mysme headcanon #zen mysme #yoosung kim #jaehee kang #jumin han #707 #saeyoung choi #v mystic messenger #jihyun kim #anon #a request! #request queue~