#hstarke

[rippedstitch-s]

🤔 hans (lmao)

Favorite Picture/Gif of your muse: @hstarke

What color my muse associates yours with:

A song that reminds my muse of the relationship between them and the sender:

A Guy That I'd Kinda Be Into - Be More Chill Original Broadway Cast Recording "And there are so many changes I'm going through And why am I telling this to you? Guess there's a part of me that wants to. I guess a part of me wants to Who knew?"

What my muse thinks of yours:

Asa thinks he's kind of an asshole? But he keeps running into him and gets kind of weird advice, and he likes hearing from other people and getting different perspectives. So even if he finds him to almost always be a dick to him, Asa's fascinated by him enough not to run away every time he sees him.

Something my muse wants to say to yours but can’t:

How do you do it? Just... not care, about so many things? Not give a shit? I care about things so much, all the time. I wish I could turn it off.

Where my muse sees their relationship with yours in five years:

Probably the same as it is now? Asa's not exactly tracking him down to spend time with him considering. Maybe an occasional bumping into each other, a weird conversation over drinks. Asa leaving feeling a little bit insulted, the usual.

[dvnhams]

closed for: @hstarke location: david's very expensive and very depressing bachelor pad on the upper west side.

Hans shows up late one weekday night at his doorstep bearing gifts like a sexy Santa Claus with one expensive fucking bag of toys, and David drops everything he's doing to act like he's in his late twenties again. What can he say? Old habits die hard and coke makes him harder.

"Fuuuck me," he mutters, surveying the spread Hans has laid out for them on his coffee table: e-bombs, n-bombs, h-bombs, nose candy that looks like it'd probably-definitely sting going up the pipe. In true Starke fashion, there's even a dainty metal coke straw thrown in the mix so their hands don't touch peasant money whlie they're snorting the emperor's blow. Like, the guy's really got his bases covered. David's already buzzing with anticipation, and he hasn't even drank anything yet.

He picks up a glass bottle of mysterious clear something and turns it over in his palm with a snort. "Fuck is this, absinthe? Whose apothecary did you fuck to get all this medieval shit, Friar Whoreance?"

[angelstoker]

tell me what you're thinking right now. (for hans)

✱ ˚｡⋆ ↪ MAKINGDEMANDS ...[REMASTERED]

"I don't know... rainbows and unicorns?" A boldfaced lie. "My sweet sixteen?" she actually never had that. "That I probably double parked, and I'm for sure getting a ticket? Whatever kind of vapid shit girls usually think about..." which truth be told, she only ever learned from the movies, but if she sticks with it, she might even convince herself that it's true. Truthfully, there's ever only one thing in her mind, and it's neither pleasant nor easy to talk about.

"What are you thinking about? —No, wait, I know... you're thinking..." she closes her eyes, pretending to connect to the otherworldly powers that be. "'However am i gonna get away with spoiling my little girl so much that I'm always the favorite'..." she peeks out of one eye, playfully. "So... am I close or am I close?"

[lukechweiss]

Some would say, his drink would be raising fish, because he rarely sipped his drink, and he was once more in 5 stars bar, alone just to not be in the utter silence of his penthouse, he noticed the other, and he was in his still in his stool. ❛ Hello. ❜ He says to Hans. ( @hstarke )

[elizabeaufort]

⸻ After dropping off the twins at the daycare, and finishing her daily exercises, she felt an urge to take something sweet to drink. It'd take a long while for her to be able to pick her infants, and Stella was nowhere to be found. Either she fled to Australia, which wouldn't surprise her or she was up for no good. ⎯ She went to the coffee shop and requested bubble tea, and blueberry muffin, which was her favorite. As she waited for her request to be finished she was surprised to see him. Hans. The last time she saw him, was in a city event with his son. Part of her wonders if he would ignore her or talk to her. ❛ Hi Hans. How's your little dude? ❜ ( @hstarke)

[elizabeaufort]

“there’s certainly more to you than meets the eye, isn’t there?” hans

⏤ What an observation. She didn't think he would notice it. For a mere second, she felt as if her mask was a misfit, showing a part of her that she conceals. The group of people that come with him, from his work line, aren't so observant. They do have one focus only, in general, one type of thought in from people like her… And they are the people she hates. And yet, everything is hidden by a killer smile and soft words. At the end of the night, it is her winning the money from them. The corner of crimson lips etched slightly. ❛ Yes. ❜ She says softly as she strokes his cheek. ❛ And I can say the same about you. ❜ Lux booped the tip of his nose softly with her index finger. ❛ Why the question? Are you interested in finding out? ❜

@hstarke + “𝙎𝙃𝘼𝘿𝙊𝙒 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝘽𝙊𝙉𝙀” - 𝙄𝙉𝙎𝙋𝙄𝙍𝙀𝘿 𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙈𝙋𝙏𝙎.

[rippedstitch-s]

how many shots for hans

"...At least 7. Can he have a few too? Can I share mine? Maybe he'd loosen up and not be such an arse and then we could have a nice, drunken sexy time?" @hstarke

Send “How many shots would it take for you to sleep with _ ?” questions for my muse’s response! - ASA // OZ // AVIEL

[rippedstitch-s]

🎧 for me to shuffle my playlist and use the first line of the next song as a starter ( hans - @hstarke ) "Waiting at the door, Waiting at the door, Waiting... I am seized by feelings of vanity and fear, There is no barrier between us." - The Ball, Natasha, Pierre, & The Great Comet of 1812

He stands behind the door to the large event hall, rocking on his heels. And he knows, his confidence will shatter into bite-sized pieces the moment he steps out into this fundraiser floor. Selling art is so much easier when it's just... a gallery show. It hangs in an austere white room for a month, wealthy people tell the attendant what they want. They put a sticker on the back and he picks up a check. This requires talking, and he's been asked to talk about his art.

His art? The warped faces and elongated fingers? The thousands of mouths? They want to hear about him? About his vision? His process?

There's the briefest swell, vanity perhaps but just pride in pluriform, before he bumps right into the one person who always seems to bring him rocketing back to reality. The one he always just... happens upon. And he's way too close as he realizes who it is. "Hans. Hullo, love, how are you? You clean up well."