#gas stxtion

[troublcmakcrs]

▸   @gas-stxtion​   ⟶   ❛  jack: “Tonight, I’m gonna keep you safe, okay?” //for tweek! protect the poor kid from The Horrors  ❜

After the first time, it had turned into a habit for Tweek to show up at the gas station late at night when he couldn’t sleep.  He found out the same man worked the night shift most of the time, the same one who had helped him through the unfortunate incident that occurred during his first visit, and he came to regard the gas station as a safe-ish place, at least when Jack was working.  If, by some odd miracle, there was somebody else working behind the counter, the entire place felt off.  Tweek could not shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong with it, and he began to notice strange occurrences.

Once, when approaching the gas station on one of his night walks, he saw what appeared to be a tall figure in a yellow raincoat standing near the dumpster in the back, illumined by the light over the rear door.  They stood almost entirely stock-still but swayed a little bit, as if they could feel Tweek looking at them, despite having their back to him, and wanted to assure him that they were real and alive rather than a statue.  He did not venture behind the gas station to see who they were and what they were doing because he liked to think that he wasn’t an idiot, but he at least saw them when he was approaching it from the side.

Then, another time, he went into the bathroom and got the distinct impression that he was not alone in there, even though the rest of the stalls were empty.  It was freezing in there, and his teeth chattered in his skull, and he did not actually want to take a piss, but he felt about to explode, so he rushed through it and then dashed out of there, refusing to look directly into any of the mirrors in case he caught something behind him.  After that, he made sure to always do his business before leaving home because he did not want to take his chances with whatever worse thing might be in the women’s room.

But if Jack was here, it all felt fine, and Tweek sat on a wooden stool, nursing a medium coffee and a pack of gummy bears.  He kicked his feet back and forth, thumping his heels against two legs of the stool, one of the fidgets that implied an unusual amount of calmness for him.  He was still trembling slightly, which was perhaps why Jack talked him out of a large coffee, but otherwise, he was mostly comfortable and content.

“Okay,” he said, nodding, his expression still troubled by something.  Even if he was mostly composed, it was still difficult and rare to drag a smile out of him.  “Th-thank you for—hh—letting me stay.  I know you’ve got work to do, too.”  And babysitting was rarely part of a gas station attendant’s job description.

“You weren’t working the other day when I came,” he noted, looking off toward a display of candy bars—buy one, get one for fifty percent off—“so I left again.  I didn’t like the look of the person behind the counter or of the whole rest of the place.”  Jack could not work all the time and probably needed days off here and there, but Tweek still disliked being around strangers, especially when there were bad vibes emanating from other parts of the store.  He wanted something familiar to latch onto and trust, so he always swung quickly back around when he couldn’t find Jack.

“Jack, can I ask you something?” he said, turning his attention back to the man in question.  Then, without waiting for an answer, he pressed on: “Does… do you get… weird… stuff happening here sometimes?”  He realized what an idiotic question that was and corrected himself—“I mean, besides all the dead guys in the freezer.”  Shit must go down here somewhat regularly if Jack was so blasé about murder and if there were that many corpses of the same guy on the property.

“Like I saw a really—a really weird person standing out back one time, not doing anything, just standing around, but in a freaky way.”  Maybe that was mean, and he should not have been assuming the worst about whoever it was, but they were a bit odd in his opinion, and he thought he caught a glance of them again on his way in tonight.  Having some reassurance that Jack knew who they were and that they were safe would do Tweek a world of good.  Perhaps, then, he could even go out and face the person in the raincoat and make two friends at the gas station, but he would not do it before he was told whether or not it was fine.

“Then, I got a—a weird feeling… the bathroom…”  Tweek trailed off and flushed pink, much less confident in his proceedings than he had been.  Craig constantly told him how much of his experiences were just in his own head, and now he felt silly.  “Like it might… be haunted.”  He sipped on his coffee and quickly averted his gaze again.  “It was probably nothing, though…  S-sometimes, I get—egh—w-worked up for… no reason.”

[bleedingovereden]

@gas-stxtion said: tony: “You don’t owe them an explanation, they’re just rude.”

(disability starters - open)

Ink tenses, his hand stilling where he's been methodically wiping down the bar. He knows that there's truth to Tony's words, that he doesn't owe anyone, especially not random strangers, an explanation for anything, but it doesn't quite quell the anxiety churning listlessly in his stomach.

"I know," he says, the words hollow in his throat, "just..." Ink trails off.

Normally, strangers' words don't get to him like this. He's had plenty of customers stare at his face or ask invasive questions--it's par for the course with scars like his, and he's more than used to it by this point.

Today just feels different, though. He's on edge, more so than usual, his skin prickling and his eyes aching as though they want to pop out of his skull. So, when a customer had asked him earlier about what happened to his pretty face, he hadn't been able to stop himself from snapping at them.

He feels bad about that.

"Maybe I should've taken the day off," he remarks drily, shaking his head. "Been feeling shittier than usual since I got up this morning." He knows that wouldn't have helped, though. Being left alone with his thoughts is worse than pushing himself to work when he knows he shouldn't.

Ink looks up at Tony, carefully avoiding eye contact as he takes in the other's appearance. Tony doesn't look judgmental as far as he can tell, just genuinely concerned. That doesn't quite make him feel better, but he appreciates the thought.

"I'll be fine," he says automatically. "Just- fuck, I dunno, I'll sit down later or something." His skin is burning, but he refuses to let himself scratch it, not in front of Tony. "I'll be fine." If he keeps repeating it, maybe it'll stop tasting like a lie on his tongue.

[paleontaxi]

▸   @gas-stxtion   ⟶   ❛  sender kisses receiver to pretend they're in a relationship. (from rosa <3)  ❜   ╱   (  kisses , accepting .  )

Jarod steps through the gas station door, just like he does almost every other day, and the small gold-colored bell tinkles above him.  Rosa comes bounding up to him shortly after that, which he doesn’t think anything of since she often does that when she works.  She always likes to get at least a short conversation with him in, if only to exchange tiny bits about their days before they both go back to their respective jobs.

This time is different, though; before he can get his usual greeting in, she is kissing him, fervent and deep and warm.  His heart seizes in his chest, and he makes a halfhearted attempt to kiss her back, a little too stunned to consider the implications.  He will likely look back on this later tonight and think, oh, Christ, what did he do?  What did they do?

But he doesn’t have time to process in the moment, and as soon as it starts, she is pulling away from him again.  She locks her big, chocolate eyes onto his, pleading with him, Forgive me.  Save me.  Please.  He takes a subtle glance over her shoulder, the brim of his hat hiding the direction of his eyes, and he spots a young man close to the counter, his rabbit mask flipped up on top of his head to reveal his pale, stricken face.

Then, it clicks.  Her coworker told him that she gets a lot of creepy guys asking after her, and this must be one of them.  Rosa already told Jarod that the two of them are ‘having sex’ according to some of her admirers, and he told her that was fine—after he choked on that information like a dumbass—but he did not expect to have to fake it to this extent.

He is happy to play along if it keeps her safe, though, and he hooks an arm around her waist and presses another quick kiss to the corner of her mouth before grinning at her.  “You really can’t wait a couple more hours, huh?” he says, shaking his head.  “Incorrigible...”  He makes sure he speaks the following sentence loudly enough to be heard across the gas station.  “Is that your way of assuring me we’re still on for tonight?”

[freeddead]

▸   @gas-stxtion   ⟶   ❛  ❝  Anyone who’s seen my dick and met my parents needs to die. ❞ //[chants under breath] gerry and jerry  ❜   ╱   (  the comeback kid , accepting .  )

Gerry snorts, trying to suppress the rest of his laughter, although his effort ultimately fails.  “That bad, huh?”  He has heard similar sentiments out of people before, but while he is given to the occasional bout of self-deprecating humor, this is a sentiment he doesn’t find relatable.

He shakes his head and says, “I can’t say I feel the same way.  The people who’ve seen my dick… some of ‘em are real nice girls!”  Some of them are specialists, and if they died on him, that’d be one less place for him to turn to satiate his particular proclivities.  But even outside of that, he can’t wish death on them.

“And anyone who’s met my mother,” he continues, grinning, “has already been through enough and doesn’t need to die, too.”

[recidivisticsin]

@gas-stxtion sent a sentence starter: jack: « please don’t tell me you’re laughing because of me. i… didn’t see that pole. » //hehe :3 jack being a lil clumsy, poor dear

 ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

{♰} - ❝Oh, fu-❞ Cliffie ducked away in sympathy pain, lifting a hand in front of his face to cover his broadening grin. Clearly entertained by the other man’s accidental collision into the metal pole, all he could do in reparation for his laughter was to ask, ❝You alright there, pal? That looked like it fuckin’ hurt.❞

[rejectshumanity]

(gas-stxtion) 🦊 //jack is definitely intimidated by dio but not much more so than any of the other horrors around the gas station. in terms of Nightmarish Shit Jack's Dealt With, dio makes the top ten but like just barely

how intimidating is my muse? | ACCEPTING ↳ 🦊 (fairly intimidating)

just barely in the top ten? he will have to remedy that.

[diamxndinthedirt]

@gas-stxtion sent a sentence starter: ❛ i’m trying to fix your hair, so hold still. ❜ //from rosa!!

diamxndinthedirt:  

»»————-　♡　————-««

{♥} – Having a heart came with new surprises every day, this much was becoming evident to Elmer. He was perceptive to so much more than he could’ve ever conceptualised without a heart. It was strange, and at times, uncomfortable, but this was only the beginning of what was to come.

An unexpected surge of indignancy rose abruptly inside him as a passer-by mistakenly spilled their coffee over him during their short walk from the counter back to their table across the café without seeming to give much in the way of acknowledgement. He was so accustomed to targeted disrespect in the workplace that the splash of coffee in his hair had been erroneously assumed to be intentional. Elmer didn’t get out much outside of work. In fact, this was the very first time he’d ever fulfilled social commitments in what was quite possibly the entirety of his life…

Gratefully, Rosa seemed to be sympathetic towards that and had yet to criticise him for his proclivity to be aloof. It was still something he was struggling to unlearn.

Poised for instinctual verbal retaliation, Elmer inhaled a sharp breath to speak and flicked his head toward the person with the unsteady hands. That was, until Rosa’s fingers unanticipatedly delved into his hair to tidy the mess of damp blond strands affected by the spill. Paralysed by the gentle, unfamiliar comfort of physical contact, he caught sight of his reflection in a decorative mirror hung up on the wall; irrationally angered over what suddenly felt like distant history, now mellowed by the reassurance of Rosa’s temperate touch, so simple & mutually platonic and yet so vital to his emotional development at that time. What the Hell...? Why did he feel so sad all of a sudden, as if he had weights in his pockets, grounding him heavily to his seat? Elmer had very little experience in the way of human contact. He had never really been touched before. At least not benignly; not by a friend. Okay, so they weren’t exactly friends. Not yet, at least. It wasn’t like they’d ever really spoken about their personal lives. To be honest, Elmer wouldn’t even know where to begin with his. But they’d been hanging out around each other from time to time, and today they had met up for coffee after his shift. In all senses of the word, Rosa was the nearest semblance to a friend of which Elmer had ever had. It was a concept of which both daunted and liberated him.

Holy shit, that was pathetic, wasn’t it...? Who knew that having feelings would turn him into such a sap? God, he was actually kind of revolted by his internal reaction to this. Why did he feel so vulnerable? She was only fixing his hair. But, the only touch he had ever truly known before this little insignificant action had been pain. The pain of being slapped into subservience. The pain of a perfectly sharpened knife cutting deep into the cavity of his chest. The pain of having his heart mercilessly torn from his ribcage, severing the ruptured muscle and connective tissue, leaving him empty…a stagnant husk…devoid...

This was different. This touch didn’t take. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t intend to cause him to suffer. It wasn't even that numb, neutral feeling as it would have been if he didn't have his heart. It felt warm. It gave him hope. It made him feel human, for the first time in what felt like a fucking eternity. He simply wouldn't have had the capability to experience this as it was if it hadn't been for his transplant. Nor would he ever have had the opportunity to meet someone for coffee. He wondered what it was about his new (semi)-emotive self that had all of a sudden caused him to become perceived by people outside of his workplace. He had not been created to be noticed. He had been created to serve. Even now, the computer chip lodged inside him was displaying his exact location to The Red Queen, Bryce Tankthrust herself...he could almost feel it itching. Of course, it wasn't, and this was just a psychosomatic factor of his anxiety around being found out, but the comprehension of that did rather little to stop it from itching, even so.

❝Y-yeah, uh…okay.❞ Elmer brought his cup of coffee to his lips and sipped to recollect himself, his brows furrowed and gaze fixated upon the table. He must've appeared discomfited, and he supposed that in a way, he was. But not by Rosa, it was emotional insecurity that left him feeling ill at ease in those moments. He hoped she could discern the difference, though it was doubtful given how little she knew about him. After a second or two, Elmer cleared his throat and looked up from the table. ❝...So, hey...Rosa...I'm sorry I had to switch locations, by the way. I guess I just didn't feel like going to Tankthrust Coffee today...anyway, I heard the owner of that place is a blood-thirsty cunt and she eats people.❞ Elmer appeared to have very little issue with expressing this while fully looking Rosa directly in the eye. Well, he was certain about his feelings regarding something, at least...

[div1nity]

@gas-stxtion 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡 : send 🌧️ for our muses to get caught in the rain together ( from jack ) ——— （ BAD SITUATIONS ⟋ ACCEPTING ）

on a normal day , coraline loves the rain . there was nothing better than standing in the middle of the road ; the pavement , a field - neck straining back &. looking up at the dark sky &. angry looking clouds as drops of water came crashing down ; the tears of heaven never failed to make her feel completely pure in the aftermath .

it had much to do with she had always struggled to feel the natural elements ; the cold winds , the warmth of the sun - they're sensations she's never experienced . rain , though - that she could feel , the calm in the air before the storm ; the electricity that came with it always seemed to set alive her nerves in the most addictive way ; the fresh smell of plants ; the sweet smell of cold that lingered , the droplets leaving a harsh kisses against skin , sometimes leaving a redness in their wake from how long she stands under the streams ; everything about it was magical , coraline doesn't believe she'll ever be welcomed into heaven , believing to be far too corrupted to be allowed in , but she thinks god gave her rain to give her at least a small taste of what the high kingdom would feel like to live in . it was addictive , it gives her an understanding of why people believe in god in the first place .

unfortunately , today wasn't a normal day ; while she can take a distant appreciation for the weather turn , it was now her arch nemesis with a love hate relationship . the mist was light at first ; almost like a layer of smoke blanketed out in front of her . then , she got hit with the larger pellets ; a small growl made in the back of throat as she hugged into the thin coat . speed walking in high heels , skirt clinging uncomfortably to thighs as she made a beeline for the nearby smoking area . obviously this happens when she has a client waiting , it's so typical for this to happen .

she manages to take a glance at herself in the plastic , while not clear ; it was obvious she was soaked ; hair sticking to her face , her neck - lipstick faded &. foundation washed away . thank god for capitalism &. their creation of waterproof mascara &. eyeliner .

❛ i think its raining ❜ were the first words said to the man , not even attempting to hide the pout on lips , the gloom in voice .

eh , coraline has certainly had worse introductions .

[pecuniarypriss]

MAKE MY CHARACTER FEEL LOVED.

@gas-stxtion said: Rosa: "Aw, hey, it's okay to be feeling down! Things might be hard right now, but I'm sure they'll start looking up soon. Besides, y'know what? After every rainstorm comes a rainbow!"

pecuniarypriss:

────────────

{!!} – ❝I’m not ‘feeling down’!❞ Brian claimed a little pointedly, looking sullen. He appreciated her little endeavour to lift his spirits, but realistically, his kind of problems weren’t going to be solved with the fanciful promise of prospective rainbows. The mandate that necessitated his children to attend visitations had been suspended in the interest of “child safety” under The Children Act of 1989. Something to do with an incident with Dan and a near miss with some very long hair & an electric garden shredder that was far too absurd to explain concisely and that had ultimately resulted in Brian getting the blame for having allowed it to happen under his parental responsibility. He divulged none of this to Rosa, maintaining his usual reticence regarding his personal life. 

Swiping the notifications for the non-stop incoming messages from his phone and decidedly switching it to silent, Brian then tossed it at the tabletop in misdirected hostility. Immediately, he regretted his carelessness and picked up his phone to remorsefully polish its screen with his tie. ❝I just need for my deranged friend to stop hounding me and let me get on with my life!❞ Funny that he still referred to Dan as his friend, despite not currently being on the best of terms. Actually, their friendship had never felt so strained. That, in itself, was a heavy weight on his shoulders. Deep down, Brian knew that what happened wasn’t entirely Dan’s fault, but there was a part of him that just wanted to blame somebody other than himself for compromising the safety of his little girls. He should never have taken his eyes off of them, he knew that. It was just as much his fault as it was Dan’s. Unfortunately for Brian, their mother, Julia, hadn’t seen things in the same light, and so here they were. This was the situation they were in. And it hurt like Hell.

Hadn't she already punished him enough?

[multi-lefaiye]

#cracks knuckles#multi-lefaiye#YEAHHHH#and for fun i'll do some rp blog urls#bleedingovereden. gas-stxtion. troublewithvampires.#this shit's easy

^ this is fake, this was fake right? there's is no way you did that typed with eyes closed, you got it perfect no way (<- not mad) (incredulous, in disbelief)

FJASDKL;FJ no it's real. like i do make typos sometimes ("sometimes") but i don't need to see the keyboard to type

when i was in middle school i was required to take a typing class that involved us memorizing the keyboard layout and it's been embedded into my brain ever since

[oceanoecielo]

▸ anonymous ⟶ ❛ [ mulberry ]  what tips would you give someone with writer's block? / [ coral ]  give a shoutout to one of your favorite blogs. ❜ ╱ ( colorful interview , accepting . )

ha! you are probably not going to like this answer at all, but the best advice i have for someone with writer's block is to keep writing. that's honestly what i do, just content myself with writing poorly for a while until it becomes good again.

some quotes from a book on writing i'm currently reading that speak to me personally and are more like preaching at the choir than anything: "Simply put, the key to being a better writer is to write. […] Write like crap if you have to. But write every day. […] Don't write a lot. Just write often. […] Spending five hours on a Saturday writing isn't nearly as valuable as spending 30 minutes a day every day of the week."

i'm An Insane Person who treats writing much more like a discipline than an art. rp is not a job, that's true, but if you only write when ~the stars & muse align perfectly~ and you ~feel up to it~, you're going to find yourself in those slumps easily and often. that's my opinion on it, anyway.

for example, i've found that i rarely have the motivation to answer ooc asks like this one, and it results in these asks sitting in my inbox for long periods of time. so i've started to discipline myself and say, "ok 6-6:30pm every day is my Miscellaneous Writing time, where i force myself to write something that's not an rp reply for once." that's why you're finally seeing an answer to this ask. it's not bc i ~magically found the motivation~; it's bc i closed down all my other programs at 6pm and started writing it.

also, bc rp isn't a job, if you have a block with your rp replies in particular, consider dropping some stuff! if you just really really can't come up with an answer to a thread, there's no harm in pitching it in the bin, which is honestly something i need to get better at doing.

also from the book i'm reading, called everybody writes: your go-to guide to creating ridiculously good content, which is more about marketing but which i am reading to pick and choose stuff to apply to my own creative process… another suggestion i've seen is to put some distance between yourself and your work. spend an hour showering, cleaning, making food, w/e. whatever you need to do to clear your mind out a li'l bit. and then come back to it. "An hour with a clear mind is worth five hours of fog." and i've found that advice does help me, too. today, i didn't feel much up to writing, so i got up, did my laundry, and then came back to my word document and immediately spat out 500 words, which was much more productive than staring at my screen for 4 hours, slowly dribbling out a sentence at a time.

/////

aughdkgjks i'm gonna shout out multi! @troublewithvampires / @gas-stxtion / @bleedingovereden

they're a really good friend of mine, and i'm glad i got to meet them! they're really good at plotting, and they have a lot of interesting muses / stories that they put a lot of effort into, and i don't think they have enough followers tbh! our muse dynamics are never a miss, and they've got such a colorful cast that there's a little something there for everybody, and i think it's kind of a shame that so much of the rpc is sleeping on them

[troublcmakcrs]

     closed starter for   ⟶   @gas-stxtion

A dark red pool creeps across the linoleum floor, spreading out from the back of the old man’s skull, his pale eyes rolled back, his mouth still hanging open with surprise.  And all Tweek can do for several moments is stare, horrified, down at him while the blood inches around fallen bags of candy, toward the toes of his sneakers.  It doesn’t feel real; it doesn’t feel like an old man toppled backward and hit his head against the metal candy rack just right to spill his brains all over the shining gas station floor.  It’s not real, he tells himself, it’s just a bad dream, and he can wake up if he shuts his eyes tight.

But when he opens them again, he is still standing over a corpse in the gas station’s candy aisle.  Once the hopelessness of his situation sinks in, he screams.  “Oh, Jesus!  Oh, Jesus God!”  He has no idea what to do now—he can’t stay here, and he can’t run, and that indecision has him rooted in place.

The one gas station employee on duty at this hour comes hobbling down the aisle, supported by a crutch, drawn to the noise, all that clattering and screaming.  Tweek backs away from him, shaking his head, his green eyes wild and tearful.  “I’m sorry!” he chokes out.  “I’m sorry—it was an accident!”  That doesn’t mean a lot to police officers, and people get locked up for accidental deaths all the time.

“I didn’t think he’d die.”  Indeed, Tweek didn’t think he had the strength to push anyone over like that.  He was just trying to put some distance between himself and the old guy, who was a real bona fide freak, which is saying a lot, considering some of the people Tweek knows.

“I was just scared!”  Now, the tears are sliding thickly down his cheeks, and he’s struggling to get words out between his ragged breaths.  “He was—getting in my face and—saying weird stuff to me and—he scared me and—I didn’t mean to, I just—I wanted him to get away from me.  He was f-freaking me out!”  His neck spasms, pulling his head all the way to the right and dragging a sharp cry from his throat.

“Don’t tell—I’ll do anything!  I’ll scrub him up, I’ll scrub this whole place.”  He has practice cleaning his parents’ shop, so he knows he can do it.  “Just don’t call the cops.  I can’t go to prison.  I won’t survive!”  He clutches the front of his shirt in his fists and pulls on it.  “What if they try me as an adult, and I go to adult prison?!  I can’t—I can’t—“

[haus-der-mysterionmusen]

YOUR MUSE’S COMBAT STATS [★]

Power: ★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆

Speed: ★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆

Precision: ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆

Defense: ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆

Intelligence: ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆

Teamwork: ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆

Creativity: ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆

Power: ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆

Speed: ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆

Precision: ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆

Defense: ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Intelligence: ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆

Teamwork: ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Creativity: ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆

tagged by: @countlessrealities tagging: @cauaullection @gas-stxtion @shootingxstardust @theshsllibrarian

[paleontaxi]

▸ @gas-stxtion​ ⟶ ❛ other  people’s  lives  seem  more  interesting  ‘cause  they  ain’t  mine   .   //from Rosa!! ❜ ╱ ( building nothing out of something , accepting . )

Rosa catches Jarod off-guard with the idea that she has been harboring some secret discontent this entire time. The feeling itself is common enough—a lot of people struggle with believing that the grass is greener on the other side of the fence—but it was still unexpected on Rosa of all people. She always seems so chipper and happy with her lot in life that it is hard to think about her craving more. Lord knows she deserves more, as much as she wants, but he didn’t know that she felt the same about it.

��If it makes you feel any better, my life’s not very interesting,” he tells her. “All I do is work and drink. Not at the same time.” He looks away from her for just a second, thinking for a bit, and then he looks back. “That you can prove, anyway.” That’s a joke, of course, even though he is not wearing the smile to prove it. He would never drive drunk with somebody else in the taxi.

“I know what you mean, though. I pick up all kinds of characters, all going somewhere fast, and all I do is shuttle these more interesting people to where they need to be. But maybe they all think their lives are boring, too. It’s easy to get used to things.”

[freeddead]

〝   @gas-stxtion​   ⟶   ❛  'are you all right now? can you sleep?' //from jack!! could be in the same timeline as the other thread with these two if you'd like!! 👀  ❜

“Debatable,” Gerry says, his gaze flickering up to Jack from where he sits on a worn down cot, “on both accounts.”  He pulls the ice pack away from his forehead, and he winces when he sees the small bloodstain left behind on the washcloth.  “I’ve definitely had worse—occupational hazard and all of that—so all things considered, I should be fine.”  He presses the ice pack flush against his kin again.  It hurts like a goddamn bitch, it hurts enough to be nauseating, but he will definitely live.

He decides to lay back for now, though.

“As for sleep, that depends on how generous the boss lady wants to be, and her generosity peaks at ‘not very.’”  Gertrude cannot be said to be an understanding woman, and she is sure to have words for Gerry if she finds him flat on his back like this.  He is expecting her to light his phone up at any second, really, asking where he is because she found something.

Speaking of, it’s a good thing it’s not dead anymore, or she would have words for him over that as well.  “Hey,” he says softly, turning his head to face Jack again, even though it makes the inside of his skull throb.  “Thanks—for letting me charge my phone and the ice and all that.”

〔  if beale street could talk 〕  〢  accepting .

[finalgrrrls]

get to know the author!

name: dani

pronouns: she/her

preference of communication: i use both tumblr ims and discord. i prefer discord for plotting and ooc chat because tumblr im delays in loading messages, but i’m fine with either.

most active muse: varies depending on whatever i’m hyperfixating on. at the moment, it’s definitely cameron, although maggie has been active on and off since 2018 despite me not watching d/ark sh/adows for years.

experience / how many years: i’ve been on this hell site since 2012 more or less consistently, with occasional breaks of a few months to a few years. before tumblr, i wrote mostly on youtube of all places, and in my friends’ chatzy rooms.

platforms you use: for rp, just tumblr. i’ve written on discord a few times in the past, but i prefer to use it for ooc communication.

best experience: it’s really hard to say! i suppose overall i’ve had the best experience writing in the star wars fandom a few years back. i had an oc in 2016 and a canon muse in 2019, and everyone was really friendly and welcoming to them both <3 i also had a great clique of friends when i wrote carrie white 10 years ago (that being a full decade ago kills me lmao). more recently, with maggie i’ve gotten to write with so many interesting muses and fantastic writers over the past couple years! many of whom i still write with today <3

rp pet peeves: people who constantly post their drama on the dash. i really don’t care what it is, unless it’s a call out of a legitimately dangerous person (not just someone you personally dislike or disagree with) i don’t want to see it.

fluff, angst, or smut: angst all the way, although i’m not opposed to writing fluff! as for smut, i’m not very experienced with writing it. i feel awkward writing the extra explicit stuff, so you’re probably not gonna see much of that on this blog.

plots or memes: it depends on my mood and our muses tbh. sometimes plotting is necessary for crossovers, but i like that memes allow for muse dynamics to grow organically. there are benefits to both!

long or short replies: i tend toward 2-4 paragraphs for most replies, but i can do longer, it’ll just take me longer to write. i don’t have as many short threads (and they tend to eventually become long lol) but i do like having a few going at any given time. sometimes i get overwhelmed by the longer drafts, and short replies are just what i need to kick a muse into gear.

best time to write: whenever i’m putting off something important that i need to do, or when i’m bored at work, or when i need to sleep 😅 my executive functioning is trash and if i sit down to write in my free time, i can’t always focus how i’d like to. i end up writing most replies in bits and pieces over the course of a few weeks in 5 minute increments.

are you like your muse(s): i don’t think so? not really for my canon muses. i tend to pick muses with interesting lives and backstories and powers….all stuff that i don’t have 🥲 my ocs have a lot more pieces of myself in them, but i haven’t written most of them here.

tagged by: @girlseventeen (thank you! <3)

tagging: @gas-stxtion, @cometsdiner, @lettherebemonsters, @alphateamsfinest, @wynterlanding, @nabaidhean-neonach, @vihilum, and you!