I started brainstorming around 8:30am to get some ideas out. The ideas turned into brainworms, forcing me to deal with them completely before I would know peace.
It's now 1:24pm and all I've eaten today is like an 1/8th of a cup of granola.
BUT! I solved the plot issue I was having. That won't make sense to anyone else. That is merely background info that won't even come up in the fic proper.
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*please disregard the 'string' on the second option! if you play any other instrument that relates to short nails, you may click on that option :)
*sensory issues could fall under 'make me feel weird' or 'other'
*health issues, dysphoria, typing and work may fall under 'other' too!
i kind of posted this on impulse and didn't expect to reach such a wide audience, so i missed a lot of possible reasons. thank you to those who clarified in the tags and allowed me to be aware :)
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Simon who just can't say no to you.
It has been like this from the moment his eyes met yours, a very terrible Monday morning if he hadn't met you but now that you remembered, it's the most beautiful day of both of your lives.
“Is that seat taken ?” Simon looked up at the small morning roused and still sleep laden voice, you were as knackered as you sounded, probably runnin’ on black coffee and cuppa noodles.
“Yeah.” He wasn't even aware how quickly he said it, “Yes, ofcourse miss.”
He scooted his big thighs together, trying to make as much space as possible for you and as if some divine thought struck him, he looked up — cheeks tinting with red.
“Would ya’ like window ?”
“No, But thankyou for asking.” You answered, sitting next to him and making sure to leave some space because those legs were thick and definitely his big cock needed some room.
Fuck, look away —
“Ghost...” Another man climbed inside bus, his eyes trained on you and your partner who's apparently Ghost ?!?!
“Wot ?” He said roughly, his shoulders pressed against yours
“Nothin’ old man.” The other man smirked and sat next to a Grandma who knitted half a sweater.
“Your friend?” You asked.
“ A little...Simon.” He said, “Simon Riley.”
“Oh.” You smiled, feeling blush creep up your neck and cheeks.“I like Ghost better.” you would've booed if you weren't feeling so tingly and nervy.
“You would like Simon more.”
“I would like that.” You couldn't believe you were flirting on a Monday morning.
One month later
“Ghost...” John horribly snorted, sprawling on couch as Simon paid him no attention.
“Wot ?” He asked, giving you his pinky as you painted the last letter ‘Y’ over hot pink nail polish, completing your H-E-L-L-O K-I-T-T-Y nail art, every letter on each nail.
“Nothin’ old man.” John smirked as you clicked your tongue, beaming up at Simon.
“Done !” You blew air and flashed a grin as Simon brought his hand up to examine your work.
“Done Luvie.” He smiled, bumping your nose with ‘I’ on his nail.
And you also liked Simon better.
Grim Reaper! Simon
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