what does your oc like about the oc above them?

Sapp stares softly at the man in front of him. He doesn't mean too but the man reminds him so much of his own love that he thought they could be brothers. He doesn't know what to say at first before letting out a sigh.

What did he liked about the man. He...plays with one of his locks and thinks more. What did he like...well one the man was attractive wasn't he. Tall and fit with a nice face and pretty eyes. He thinks and thinks and thinks before settling on the man's lips.

Having none of his own he was rather...captived by mortals lips. How soft they were and how they made a mouth look so pretty. He touches his own mouth...more of a opening really.

"Your lips. I like them, they are small and cute...like a little bat." His voice is low and charming with a hint of an accent as he speaks. "I think that's what I like the most about you right now. Though...I'm sure if I got to know you better, I'd like something more...deep."

Because he could hear the man's heart...but it didn't sound like a normal mortal heart. It was closer to the machine golums that walks around the castle during the night. But the man looked much more...mortal than those things.

"Your face is a chest, " poor intoxicated Salvador said. As if the men next to him, didn't know that already. Salvador took a deep sip of his dark-colored beer and eyed the stranger warily. Salvador didn't like strangers. Especially, weird ones. "But you can talk." Sharp observation, Salvador complimented himself . Thieves had to be sharp. Sharp, yes. Salvador was sharp as a knife and totally not, seeing things and being drunk. With newfound (drunken) courage, Salvador tried to smile at the other man. The half sloppy grin he produced wasn't a pleasant experience, for them both. "Your good at that, " Salvador said. Awkwardly. "Talking I mean. Smooth voiced and all, " Salvador continued. "You bartered for your drink and did that without a stutter." Salvador frowned."I like that. Your voice I mean. I like your..gibber." 

"Jesus Christ, kid, I wanted to do a documentary on a weird-looking guy at you at first, but now that I'm learning more about you, I've got other plans!" Mr. TV said. "I mean, you work for HOW much? Like pennies, kid! Pennies! And you're okay with that?! You even got hurt on the job and you went straight back to it as soon as you could?!" He swung an arm around Louis's shoulders, pulling him closer. "Kid, you are a dream employee, you know that? I don't know who you're working for, but you oughta leave them and work for ME. It's a lot less of a workload... depending on the actors that are around. What do you say? I could use a custodian like you."

"I'll be honest with you, bud, I have no idea how my head works," Mr. TV explained flatly. "I can see and talk just fine. Hell, I can hear and smell just fine too! But as far as I know, there's no blood or anything in here beyond what a normal TV is like. I'm not complaining, though." At the compliments directed to him he merely waved them off dismissively. "Ha! Flattery will get you nowhere, bud. My life's nothing but working hard and being dedicated. There's no views in that. But you on the other hand." He leaned closer when M. Pourife stepped towards him. Was it a reflection on Mr. TV's screen... or was it something else...?
"I love documentaries. I love the raw emotion you can capture through it. And you, bud? You've got documentary written all over! Brains like yours is something Hollywood would love. Or maybe where you're from." The screen flickered for a brief moment with buildings from where M. Pourife was from, but just as they appeared they disappeared. "I think you've got the talent to make it far. What do you say? We can get started on a one hour special, if you're in?"

Completely unaware of the fact that he was dealing with a supernatural entity (which would've caused him to break into a cold sweat), M. Pourife was quite eager to be approaching this being, who had a television screen for a head and seemed to be like the most famous individual in the area! The scientist, of course, was no stranger to fame; hell, he even had tastes of it himself, yet that was never enough... More than once, he had dreamed of improving himself - to the point that he saw the term "megalomaniac" as a compliment instead of an insult. He wanted to achieve fame... The Unovan dream as some would put it. The term dangled in front of him like bait, yet it was always out of his reach... He swatted at it, and it managed to escape his fingers each time.

For him, this fellow had it all: undying love and attention, fame tightly grasped within his hands... Everything that the scientist could only dream of. He would've envied it, resented it even, but perhaps it was the presence of technology that ended up staining his perception an obnoxious rose color.

"Oh, you have to tell me more about yourself, you lovely enigma," he opined to the other party while eyeing his screen. The middle-aged man could see himself reflected in it, which he always appreciated, but... "That screen of yours, for example... You have to tell me what is on there! How does it function for you, good sir? I have frankly never seen anything like it before. Does it impede blood circulation in any way?" He laughed heartily before waving his own words away. "Oh, do not take that question too seriously. I am no hematologist, to be perfectly honest. I am only a general scientist, just like how you seem to work in any film genre there is!"

He rubbed his hands together while taking a step closer, still blissfully unaware of what he was getting himself into. In hindsight, he'd likely regret this exchange, but right now, he was just unleashing flattery upon flattery upon flattery... It would've been exhausting for almost anyone else, but for M. Pourife - always used to smooth-talking his way into the minds of the rich - this was perfectly natural for him. A tender, sugary smile existed underneath his mustache.

M. Pourife chuckled to himself before taking another step forward before continuing, "But that asides, I see myself reflect in you. No pun intended, of course. But something about you... It appeals to me... Your energy and enthusiasm, your ability to be casual with the snap of a finger..." He trailed off as he gently stroked the ends of his facial hair. "Pathology may not be my field of specialty, but I can say that you... Your atmosphere is contagious. You simply have to teach me how it works, hm?" The scientist fluttered his eyes at the other party before chortling once more.

"Though, you do not have to, of course!" he exclaimed in between laughs, "But yes, it would be a great honor if we got to know each other better in time, hm? Let us start off with something simple first... What would be your favorite film genre... And why, if you feel like explaining?"

OH HECK. A FOLLOW-UP.

The question comes and he leans his cheek against his palm, looking the man up and down. His initial thought is something along the lines of how this wasn't a person his age or someone he could immediately objectify. This was an elderly individual, a man who had at least twenty years on him and wrinkles spreading beneath his eyes. In some ways, Sean could almost feel a sense of remorse. Aging. It ruined the preciousness of many. You could be the most attractive person on the earth and still riddled fine lines and sagging skin. It made him question his future, question how he would look and also question more on M. Pourife. Had he once been a charming boy? Did he have a rugged jawline with masculine shoulders and thick collarbones? Or had he always been the type of person he was today? 

A shoe lowers from the chair's inner bar, planting itself on the ground. He offers a soft chuckle, easing the quiet tension between them. It must be awkward to be in the spotlight of a younger person's gaze. Rather, if he were dressed in formal attire, spoke in a voice that sounded like it sound be narrating a Netflix show, and traveled with a cane-- he'd be feeling nervous himself. Though maybe the elder was accustomed to the singular spotlight. 

"I like your mustache." His throat exhales a second chortle and he lifts his head from his hand, straightening up. "How long did it take to grow out like that? It's like the size of my head."

"You uuh..." Marco eyed the baseball player with a slighty disoriented look. He didn't find anything wrong on first sight, but also nothing right. He's already pretty socially awkward and can't find words to speak out of his mouth to someone who seems popular.
"You're really...", He tried again before cutting himself of to rub his chin contemplatively.
"You have a face...", splurted out, out of self-inflicted pressure. Try harder, Marco.

He sighs, realizing that wasn't necissarily a compliment. "I guess you're pretty attractive?... Not my type but... Still..." He crossed his arms and relaxed his expression. "You're smile would attract many people, I suppose... Do with that what you will..."
Not bad Marco.

(Sorry for my horrible writing I'm still learning hehe...)

“You can fly?” Meiling’s bright eyes lit up, a toothy grin across her face. “So can I... fire, too?” She zoomed up to the demon-angel and pointed out her horns. “I guess it’s kind of like a demon. But you don’t have horns, do you?” She chuckled. “Well, whatever. Let’s be friends. You have cool enough powers to impress me. You know, I don’t have an easy time hiding my ‘other’ side from humans either... we’ll have each other!”

"Woooooow, " Leika said. Her eyes widen and her ears pricked. Leika was so overwhelmed with joy that she jumped with joy. "Did you just!! You did didn't you! You blew that tree up! Born!" Leika spread her arms above her head to mimic the explosion.  Her grin grew even wider while she looked at the now burned tree. "That's so radical! So cool!" Leika said. "You're the best!", she was easily impressed. 

--

" keep things interesting!" She repeats. Leika's nose wrinkles a bit as she started he old man. "Ya know what's interesting? Sendin' some of your Void damned money too the poor! That's interesting for both parties, " she spat. Leika didn't seem to be impressed by the skin peeling thin, no her hands were acing to help the poor old man, and peel off even more. A frown appeared on her face when Johnson mentioned Roswell, or more hisockery nickname. For a split second she was confused. Then shrugged. If Roswell had anything to do with those, high society, stick in the butts... It was probably for something good! Yes! Roswell clearly used these people to get some darn money. That should be it (that wasn't it). "Aye! I tell him that! I tell him that you bought..some silly pants for him, whatever that mean!" She said with a huff! Oh how threatening. 

   - idk why tf I forgot to comment on the follow-up, but.... just know that I love Leika and would die for her. I'd also let her destroy Johnson in an instant because he deserves it. rip both of them about the pants though...........

Raising a brow at the young Easterling, Johnson allowed his muscles to lay slack as he opined, "You know, miss... I may not see you as the philosophical type, but... Do you mind at least staying around for a moment to hear an old man ramble? I think it could do you a benefit or two." While waiting for a response, his eyes glanced down at her guns for a second, causing the older man to shiver and rub his arms; nevertheless, he remained... Surprisingly relaxed even as he had the feeling that she was definitely going to beat him up if he misplaced a single word or thought.

Worst of all, she'd definitely win that hypothetical fight. But that was besides the point.

"Your loyalty is something to admire," the aristocrat stated coolly, "I've never seen someone as dogged as you before. You'd quite literally die for the people you attach yourselves to, and while that isn't the soundest political tactic, I must at least remark that it's a fortunate rarity. I don't see it too often in this environment, but when I do, I simply must remark upon it. And no, despite my tone, it's not always accented with concealed disdain. You happen to be one of the lucky exceptions. So young and vibrant..."

He chuckled before looking down at his fingernails and picking at them. A curl of skin came loose, and he peeled it off with a wince; then he flicked it and watched it fall to the floor. Gross and undignified. But it did allow him to think, Youth could be something that I could use right now... In spite of the naivety inherently associated with it. Yet when he looked back at the lass, he just didn't see that naivety; no, he saw bravado, or... Something along those lines. Could he say that he envied her? Maybe. Just... Maybe.

Johnson sighed and stated, "Great, now I sound like one of those boring elders who always tells folks like you to shut up, or refine yourselves, or something along those lines. However, if you read my words, I can tell you that I'm firmly aligned against that. I may be a member of the highest ranks of society, yes, but that doesn't mean I look down on the rebels. No, people like you - causing mischief by stealing and shooting up things - keep it interesting for us upperclassmen. You give us something to talk about, and I enjoy that very much." What the fuck? Was that supposed to be a compliment? The man sure seemed to think so as he looked back down at his hand.

"I know that you don't want to be forgotten," he continued with the faintest hint of a smile - or was it a sneer, "but I think that shouldn't be an issue if you keep doing what you're doing. You may be working underneath someone, yes, but that doesn't mean you're any lesser. You'd be equal in magnitude to him, if not more, in time. Trust me... By the way, before you leave..." His smile faltered slightly as he put his hands in his pockets and made the following conclusion:

"You work for that Crow, don't you? Tell him that I send him my regards, as well as notify him that I ordered some pants for him. The exact same pair as the one that I wear now. Just... Let him know, so that if it ever arrives at his abode, he won't be too surprised. I hate to be the cause of death for your employer, after all..."

fyvgfsiyvsv ngl I can see Maribelle and Johnson having an interesting dynamic, but... Johnson is a terrible role model rifp..... it's time for a follow-up:

Here's a different flavor of adolescent, this one in the form of an angsty teenager with apparently nothing better to do than mope, unfortunately for Johnson. Maribelle remembered him. It was difficult to forget the man and his stature, that of a theater villain, and though it was a tad overplayed, she found it also captivating. A good way to keep her absorbed was to feed into her cynicism, though really it was simply a sort of strange naiveté on its own, but that's what Johnson did however many weeks ago. So, she liked him. What a disgusting thing to confess, but it was the truth. So, here she was, returning the favor, for she liked old men, and especially old men who agreed with her.

"I tried learning a few things since then, about you, or I tried to. I don't know how well I do at learning." Was she trying to fish for another compliment? She ceased to scratch at the side of her face, before muttering, "You're someone that more people should look up to, I think. Maybe you have enough who do, but even then, efficiency is something lots of them lack. They also lack... being realistic-- realism!" There was a bite to that word, though if only because she forgot what it was at first. "They don't see the world like you do, because you're a lot smarter than them. You be strong, and you be brave, and you hurt anyone who threatens you, because that's the smart thing to do."

No, Maribelle, you're just kind of an idiot.

"So, you're The Icy Mind for a reason. It's good to get rid of emotion, and you know that, so then you don't have to actually be hurt when people come for you. Eventually. Whenever that'd be for you." she concluded, "You're a man, and not an emotional woman, or a stupid kid, or anything like that. You can do what you want as long as you're a man, and especially if you're a smart man, I think."

once more, a sorta late follow-up..........

i love these two i just had to i'm so sorry)

Despite the latter being in a completely different timeline to the man, the Finnish man couldn't help himself but seemed to grow quite a bit of a fondness over to Maribelle, being rather intrigued by the attire that she had worn, along with the other traits that were a peculiarity to him.. Therefore being his timeline so difficult. Despite that however, Yngvar couldn't help but admire and be captivated by the smallest things that the female had around her, it was almost it took place in those dark fantasy novels that he used to read and obsess over when he was just a young adult.. Despite having that timeframe be such a scary one for him, dark fantasy novels were always a fresh escape from the harsh and gruesome realities that he had to face himself. All of these mind-boggling, fierce realities had his younger self caught into a knot of ravenous briar, having no escape from the piercing jaws from the necks of the briar.. Except for these dark fantasy novels that he'd hopelessly cling too.. Thus, creating a path where the necks of piercing briar would be broken having him to be free.. However, the thorns would be splinted against his frail, porcelain vanilla skin.. It took quite a bit of time for his younger self to snap off the long, deep splinters against his skin. Maribelle's silhouette itself made Yngvar quite nostalgic during those times where those novels genuinely warmed up his heart in the slightest bit. It made him quite wistful developing a tumor against the center of his throat, his chest throbbing as if his lips would wobble and dwell in sweltering hot tears trickling down through the surface of his cheeks ( don't worry he's not crying he's okie uwu). But once again, despite the dust of wistfulness being sprinkled, there was a triumphant chime ringing through his heart, as he always had a passion for such novels. That was what Maribelle truly reminded him of, just the sheer joy and gracious keenness that shimmered through his countenance as he leafed through the novels, every scene leaving him in either a grin, in tears, a scowl, or happy tears. He couldn't lie about how it made him so warm. 

However, as he felt the cluttered ball of sweetened bright sprinkled be clenched against his throat, as his kind words, he didn't want to seem too pestering towards Maribelle. Maribelle seemed to have a frigid, detached breeze singing through her countenance, seeming to lack spark in her eyes as she had quite a somber look most of the time.. He seemed to be taken back as.. Of course, Yngvar himself is generally a conscious person, as he wanted to make a good impression on people despite him being naturally distant and reserved from people. Not only was he so distant about it, but he was... always caught into a pulled string of worry and general anxiety. What if what he was going to say was going to be an insult to her? What if she'll eventually slash him and decapitate him with a weapon? What if she would show disapproval of what Yngvar wanted to say, therefore having him tingle in his own guilt and shame? He didn't know for sure, and it made him quite uncertain. But.. it didn't hurt to try, right? As a matter of fact, Maribelle was a juvenile, while Yngvar was an adult. Boy oh boy, he could just feel that ugly wormed parasite of anxiety creep up over to his chest, only having his chest tightened up just a tad bit. His heart thumped against his chest as he'd hunch his head down and keep a grip upon the side of his arm. He'd rub his back, not seeming to grasp upon the confidence to connect some form of eye contact towards Maribelle. Him, attempting to repress his positive emotions wasn't going to work at all for him, as his positive emotions were rather fervent. He desperately wanted to express his appreciation towards the latter, because boy, he had quite a good handful of appreciation for her presence. 

Yngvar gulped, as he could just feel his own heart thump against the surface of his chest as his cheeks only grew warmer and warmer, raspberry curls were already on his cheeks. His eyebrows creased down as the other side of his milk chocolate, silky hair would flow over his virescent, mismatching eye. He blinked, now clasping against his clammy, slippery hands. He took a few steps forward over to Maribelle, but he still maintained a little bit of distance.. Just in case she had her own personal space bubble, of course. Yngvar tried his best to slump his shoulders and stick out his head a little bit, peering down over to Maribelle being the 6'3" man that he was. His fingers fiddled with one another, now disengaging his hands as he'd rub the back of his neck. `` I.. I actually.. r-really like your um- attire a lot.. and the.. like.. `` Yngvar immediately paused, needing to take a breather as he didn't seem to be peculiar in some way or suspicious. Quick, he needed to think of a puzzle! Yngvar attempted to think for a moment, but of course, he just couldn't take it anymore. Yngvar would instantly have the beans spill out of his chest, `` I-I.. I hope this um- doesn't seem to silly but- `` Yngvar paused once more, trying his best for his voice not to be as quivery as it was going to be. `` M-my goodness your--.. e-everything like- the attire it-- I-it really-- it really brings me b-back to the-- to the days when I was a y-young adult and um- `` Yngvar's voice would proceed to crack as his voice only trembled a bit more, `` I-I used to read like- these-- f-fantasy novels and-- t-the characters and everything-- I-it-- ``  Yngvar paused again, trying to give himself a bit of a breather. `` Sorry about t-that.. Just- don't wanna.. g-give you the- wrong impression or whatever- `` A highly strung chuckle escaped out of his tightened chest, as small beads of sweat trickled down his head. To this point, the Finn's clammy hands were tottery and trembly, it was perceivable in front of anybody's sight.. He didn't seem to realize it until he darted his mismatching eyes over to his hands, a startled high-pitched chirp escaped out of his chest as he'd immediately rustle his hands into the pockets of his black skinny jeans. He hunched his head down, his milk chocolate hair now scattered all around the man's face. He then disengage his hand from a pocket to brush off his silky, slightly downy hair from his face. Yngvar then attempted to restore back his "normal" posture, but he still proceeded to slouch and draw not a single connection of eye contact over to the latter. `` I.. I-I apologize for that- `` He briskly spluttered as he'd reach over to the back of his neck and rub it. His eyebrows creased down as his eyes softened, a shameful sigh blowing out of his chest. `` I genuinely am- should be.. better than this- `` Yngvar would grumble the last few parts underneath his chapped lips. 

He began to grasp upon a little bit of confidence, but he still felt that disrupting feeling of guilt and anxiety rapidly race through his cherry hot blood. Yngvar did the best he could to keep himself cool, so.. why not change the subject before he made everything so awkward between the both of them? Despite that one section that Yngvar wanted to explicitly admire Maribelle for, he was.. rather reminded of something. By the thought of it, a feeling of warmth circled around Yngvar's plush heart, along with that satisfyingly fuzzy feeling too. So why could he express that as well? `` Well, uh- let's.. L-let's shake things about what I said off a little bit, y-yeah? `` Yngvar paused, his eyes softened as the tips of his lips curved up, seeming to form a bit of an uneasy, wobbly grin. Yngvar's finally ruffle back his clammy hands back into the pockets of his black denim jeans, taking a few steps back from Maribelle. He grasped upon a tad bit of courage to connect eye contact over to Maribelle, but.. it wasn't complete eye contact as he still maintained stench of apprehensiveness. `` I'm.. I'm very sorry if that was- I don't know uh-.. pretty weird of you to hear.. `` Yngvar's tips of his lips no longer had the ability to form a slight smile upon his face, but he couldn't help it but rotate his lips to the other side resembling a small frown of insecurity. `` I.. I hope you don't take that the wrong way. Since.. It feels quite nice to stumble upon people like you, yeah?`` Therefore, he forced himself to lift up a smile upon his face, making the tips of his lips only ache a bit more. He would then emit a somber sigh out of his chest, briefly peering down at his desaturated blue sneakers. He then lifted up his eyes, still lowered over to Maribelle as  Yngvar was a tad bit of a tower. 

`` Well.. We both like books and bugs, right? Well.. I like those too! I love bugs very much!! `` Yngvar then graciously chirped, a large brightened genuine smile sparked up his previously apprehensive countenance. A galaxy of vibrancy shined upon the surface of his mismatching eyes, twinkling in joviality as he absolutely loved expressing the fact that he had a few things in common with the latter. `` I.. I think it's very awesome that you like bugs too! I really love them.. and it makes me very happy that someone else also appreciates them! It feels nice to find people like that. `` Yngvar joyfully chuckled,  `` I'm a big fan of arachnids. I love tarantulas and scorpions the most.. but I do prefer tarantulas the most since they have a very special place in my heart. What about you? Do you have anything in particular that you like as well?  It's alright if you aren't a fan of arachnids either.. but boy, I sure do like them!`` Yngvar then paused, now finally lifting up his neck a little bit along with his posture, he seemed to be in a slightly better posture, but he.. proceeded to slouch a little bit. That gleeful grin of his never slipped away from the man's face. `` Books too! It's very awesome that we both like the same books too! I'm a big fan of horror and mystery books too! I'm a bit more of a dark fantasy person but man, those books are very great to read. It's also very amazing that you enjoy similar books too, as I do as well! `` 

"I like your music," Helvetica said, prying the chunky headphones off her ears. Something loud blasted from either side of the headphones as she set them down. "Your voice is really good. I guess your music doesn't show it, but you like cute stuff, huh? Well, not that a Maiden like myself would be interested in such frilly, frivolous things, but... if I were, I'd say that I can appreciate that about you." She flushed, embarrassed to even be talking about cutesy things, and turned back to the topic of music.

"You're a hard worker, right? That's how you come off. You're always working on something new, putting out new albums and stories... I wish I could be such a hard worker." If she was, maybe she wouldn't have failed the trials. She shook her head to perish the thought.

"Your love for music is admirable. You're passionate about something. Not everyone can say that about themselves. Some people have nothing to strive for." She bit her lip. "Um... Not that a Maiden like me would want to, but if you ever wanted to get tea and talk about music stuff, or anything else... Well, forget it. It's not important anyway."

"oh oh! Oh!" The opera singer laughed warmly. "It's always nice to meet a chirpy lively misses!" He said with a beaming smile. "I've met so many boring, impassioned people in my circle that I'm always relieved to hear that there is still some spirit in this world!" Xander told Satan's maiden. Obviously unaware about her relationship with the literal devil. Xander set down next to her, the big smile still present on his face. "You're maybe, pardon my rudness, a bit to passionate about..things, but I don't really see that as a bad thing. Like I've said before, the world seems to be inhabited with these.. Interested individuals, so! Xander clapped his hands. " tell me your story lady! I'm going to talk with someone interesting for once, since so long!"