#chachaia

     “God can you shut up! You and your patronizing height can stay right the fuck there-- I got it.” There’s an empty warning to voice as he stretched towards the desired bottle, so close but unable to quite wrap chubby fingers around the neck, annoyed. He was going to get the damn thing, Hakyeon and his tall ass be damned. “Almost--” The poor excuse of a chair under him was anything but stable, knowing this Denìtr took the gamble anyway and jumped on tiptoes to finally manage to reach the bottle, only to go toppling down when resuming balance sent him sideways with a noise of surprise caught in throat, taking the frantic idiot down with him.

Jiho had become quite a regular at Demonic Pleasures. He wasn’t there every night of course, but a few times a month and always seeming to have a flashy personality, he had become quite close to the bartenders and knew them all by name. This made it rather easy to get free drinks and of course the trust that came with being left alone at the bar. It was definitely a perk and tonight seemed like it would be no different. It wasn’t nearly as full as the weekends, in which the whole dance floor would be packed with sweaty bodies, but still there was enough people to make him feel comfortable, excitement drumming under his fingertips as he placed them on the bar top. He was casually sipping from a neon green drink, the bitter sweetness resting on his tongue from the absinthe that made up a majority of the alcohol content. It was a favorite of his, and he loved the rim of sugar coating the outside.  

The bartender tonight was Cherry, a pretty girl with strawberry hair and pointed ears. She seemed to be down and when she asked Jiho to just watch over the bar while she made a quick run to the bathroom, he obliged. It really wasn’t that busy, so he could just stand back there and tip back a few shots. It was his what he considered payment. Just as he had poured himself a shot glass full of Jägermeister, a familiar face he had seen on campus scooted in to the bar stool next to his previous spot. He didn’t know him well at all, but just by mere glancing across the halls of the campus. Leaning over the counter, he pressed his elbows into the counter. “Well boo, want a drink I suppose? All that work at school making you need a release?”

23.) ❝ Remind me never to drinkagain. ❞

Dylangroaned loudly as he was lying on.. Well something that was liable, which wererather a lot of objects. Not that he really cared at the moment. He was more tryingnot to puke either on himself or on any other piece of furniture. So maybebeing dead for a while, didn’t help with keeping his allowable level ofalcohol. But who could’ve blame him for that, it was not like someone hadwritten a handbook on how to be dead. He sighed, hoping that he hadn’t made atoo big of a fool out of himself. “Remind me never to drink again,” he groanedto whoever else was in the room with him. Not that he meant it, but for now, hereally did.

Dylan sighed as he was leaning against the bar, drinking from a glass with strong alcohol in it. He really felt as if he could use it right now. He was still rather messed up inside from how his own life ended. Coming to the academy had helped him quite a bit. At least he wasn’t the weirdest person around anymore, that counted for something. But as everything sank in, he decided to find a bar and drink a bit. He finished his glass and put it down again. Sighing as he moved a bit sideways to look around the club. Well at least that wasn’t so different from what he was used to. He then spotted a male walking around with shots, winking at him. He couldn’t help but to smirk a little as he came closer. “Well in that case I do hope the dream was rather enjoyable,”

What better way to study in class, than to not study at all. Young Kenneth Lee was spending his precious class time doing what any other student would do; he was doodling. Well, precious wasn’t exactly the correct word in this situation. Professor Inguk had suddenly fallen asleep again and he always told the class not to play with sharp metal or the furnace when that happened. Ken, being the good student he was (in comparison to the three hunters in the back corner playing with some of the swords from professor Inguk’s wall), had listened and instead was happily doodling.

 It started on the corner of his notebook, before wrapping around to the back side before eventually making into the backmost pages. After almost a year of doodling, he had filled three notebooks and a small journal which was originally used to write down any information on his own race, but had soon turned into a little character booklet. The hour was soon up and the kids let themselves out of the classroom, leaving a slumbering steambot on his own to enjoy his impromptu nap. Ken ripped out a drawing he had made of a small character version of the teacher, slumbering with a little puff of steam coming from his mouth as he snored. He giggled to himself as he laid the drawing next to the bot on his desk. 

Now that classes were over, the mothman made his way outside to enjoy the now warm breeze that was very welcome from the cold winter past. Soon spotting a very familiar face, Ken’s expression lit up and he practically ran toward his favorite hyung. “Hakyeon hyung! Draw with me!” He exclaimed, slapping his notebook and colored pencils down with a smile and leaning his head on the other’s shoulder in greeting.