PSL/Meme Continuation

[brokenbirds]

for PSL/meme continuation

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tfln continutation for @57times

[brokenbirds]

((ooc: continued from here))

it was beautiful, but still a little unnecessarily judgmental i think

it wasn't even a walk of shame i just couldnt find my shoes

[57times]

That's violins in a nutshell really.

I hope you found them eventually?

[brokenbirds]

I found one of them.

Would have spent a little more time looking, but. You know. The violin solo.

tfln continutation for @dumpset

[brokenbirds]

((ooc: continued from here))

youre like 16 dude im not sending you a pick with my dick in view

[He did say inner thigh, Tobio.]

[dumpset]

you can move it out of the way...

[ not like he actually wants to see a dick pic ]

[brokenbirds]

yeah I'm not doing that

just use your imagination about the tattoo

checked again it might be a drunk duck

[dumpset]

[ why did tobio even bother ]

i was just trying to help

my imagination isn't very good

[ at least he's honest ]

[brokenbirds]

probably best ur not sitting around thinking about my inner thighs then

also im not mad at u
jsyk

[Why even add that? Something about the way Kageyama defends himself makes Dera feel like he was harsh. Was he harsh? He might have been a little harsh.]

continuation for @yeahmagnets

[brokenbirds]

((ooc: continued from here))

[For as anxious of a person as Dera is, he can sometimes be careless. Maybe it's just another subtle form of self-harm to be heading out to a stranger's place like this. He was kidding about the D.A.R.E. thing, but he does recall them saying something about not taking drugs from strangers. Still, you can only sit in your studio apartment drinking alone for so long before you start to go a little crazy, and it's not as if he hasn't facilitated random hook-ups before.

[Still, he's nervous. But he can't exactly show that. Luckily for Dera, emotion of any kind rarely shows on his face at all. He's gotten pretty good at keeping it statue still 90% of the time until he's home alone and a particularly sad song comes on his playlist.

[He knocks on the door, but then lights a cigarette and steps off to the side a bit. Some people are weird about smoking indoors, and it's better to get it out of the way now instead of having to step out immediately upon entering the house.

[As for his appearance, he didn't exactly try to clean up much, but he is wearing a clean t-shirt and some clean jeans that don't have holes in them. He would have thrown a lazy flannel on top, but it's kind of hot outside today. His faded blue hair is, as usual, hanging in his face, and his bare arms are covered in randomly slapped on tattoos that have no real rhyme, reason, or artistic placement to them. None of them look very good.]

[yeahmagnets]

[ Jesse's place is big. Too big for someone of his age who's supposedly self-employed and 'not a drug dealer', but if he's asked about that he'll just make up some bullwinder about inheritance or whatever. It's not that he particularly enjoys lying to people, but out of necessity, it's become easier with time. As of now, he has no particular attachment to Dera, so guilt won't follow his white lies. Sure, he seems like a chill enough guy to hang around, but Jesse doesn't let people in so easily. Letting them in means there's a potential for him to suffer loss and he's had enough of that. More than enough. Still, he's a social being by nature, and being left alone with his own thoughts doesn't normally end well for him. PTSD and all that comes with it. People are a distraction from that.

Jesse perks up from his slouched position when he thinks he hears the crunch of gravel in his driveway and he stands quickly, pushing up the sleeves of his hoodie as he approaches the large living room window and peers out between the curtains. It's a habit to check from a safe distance away from the front door before approaching to let someone in, and when he notices the familiar swath of dyed hair and physique matching the picture he saw online, he's relieved. No catfish today.

His baggy jeans make a subtle sound as he crosses to the front door, the sound of his locks opening clicking in the empty air before he pulls the door open almost right after Dera knocks. Jesse has a half-smoked cigarette pressed between his lips when he greets the other guy, his own shoddy tattoo taking up the back of one hand and sprawling past his wrist. He offers that hand in greeting. Is a handshake too formal? It feels like he's forgotten how to have 'regular' interactions with people. ]

What's up, man? C'mon in.

[ Jesse's voice is deep and gravelly, roughed up by years of smoking. He presses the door closed behind Dera and he's really tempted to turn the lock but that might send red flags flying, so he pushes away that temptation and tries to ignore the creeping anxiety as he heads back towards the futon to offer Dera a seat with a vague gesture. He grabs a glass off his kitchen counter for his guest and sets it on the coffee table with a clink. He doesn't bother with the coasters that sit in a stack in the middle of the table. He's not even sure why he has them. ]

You can pour yourself a drink if you want. Unless you wanna stick with vodka. I got some in the kitchen.

[brokenbirds]

[The half-smoked cigarette is invitation enough to finish his inside. He follows Jesse in without offering much more than a nod in greeting. He's never really been a handshake sort of guy, and hugging at the beginning of a hook-up can be weird when it's with another dude - Jesse seems sort of like the manly type, doesn't he? Dera can dig that. He's not particularly one way or the other himself.

[Drinks make for easier conversation than awkward first hellos anyway.]

Appreciate it, man. [He says this while pouring himself a drink of what's offered on the table. His anxiety tells him it could be drugged - that's what all the PSAs warn you about, but it hasn't happened to him yet. He takes it anyway, then glances around a little before seating himself on the edge of the couch. It would be weird to ask if it's okay to sit down, right? Dera's mind is always reeling, but his expression is rather void of any emotion to betray that. He looks calm and casual.]

You've got a nice place. [It's not an accusatory observation - more like a cheap attempt at conversation. But really. It's a nice place.] Better than my shitty studio.

[He takes a drink.] Not a great place for meeting up, that one. Does its job though.

[It's always hard to tell when it's time to cease the small talk and shift into something more interesting, but Dera decides to let Jesse take the lead. The first few minutes of meeting someone off of a dating app are always awkward, right? Maybe once they get stoned it'll be a little less so.]

Waking up together ♡

[57times]

[ The previous evening had been...rough. Rough, and embarrassing, and such a fucking relief. Esther hadn't intended to say half the shit she had, and she certainly hadn't intended to fall asleep here.

She was used to sleeping on her own sofa, not someone else's. Sleeping there with someone else? Forget about it. Absolutely not. Sober, the idea of actually doing that made her panic, made her feel sick. Made her thankful for the extra locks on her door and the Doberman sleeping in the armchair next to her.

So when she opens her eyes the following morning, and feels unfamiliar material under her hand, unfamiliar smells, feels someone next to her, for a horrible few moments she forgets she's not in her own home. She tenses in very real fear, and almost pushes herself away to get some space before she notices faded blue. Realises what she can smell is the lingering scent of cigarettes.

Then she remembers, finally, where she is. Remembers how much she had to drink and that's why her head's hurting. Remembers who she was drinking with, and close to instantly, the tension leaves her. They're close - the fact that they're on a sofa and not a double bed means that that's something of a given - legs all tangled, arms around each other. They'd be nose-to-nose if Esther shifted up a little bit.

Move. Move, for fucks sake, get up. Before he wakes up.


Her heart's racing, but she doesn't shift even an inch. She settles and stays put, and instead wills herself to relax again. Gingerly, she replaces her hand on his back, and reminds herself that Dera's safe. That she's safe with him. ]

did someone say touch starved?

[brokenbirds]

[Dera doesn't sleep often - he really, really doesn't - so once he does, it's difficult for him to actually get up. Curled upright against the couch isn't the most comfortable position in the world, but as morning light leeches in through his blinds this morning, he feels warm, warm, warm. It doesn't register immediately that he's with someone else - tangled legs, tangled arms, warm breath against his chest. He adjusts slightly where he is on the couch, making a sound in his throat that would be half a word if he were even awake enough to do that. But he's not. He turns his cheek against a head of soft hair, and lets out a long, contended sigh. And without thinking about what he's doing, his fingers begin brushing the back of someone-- someone? Who? His foggy mind can't put the pieces together, doesn't want to. It feels nice. He runs his fingers up and down, enjoying the feeling of the fabric beneath them.

[For as lonely as Dera spends most of his nights, and for as little as he lets people spend the night, he loves cuddling like this. It could be a dream, he thinks. Maybe one about Esther again. What a lovely dream that would be...

[Still not quite awake, he mumbles something that's hard to understand - just his low, raspy voice trying to formulate words.] Y...sm...n...mmmm.

[57times]

[ It's been just long enough for Esther to settle - even start to doze off again, how novel! - before she feels Dera start to stir. Only little signs, but it's his breathing she notices first. The feeling of a hand at her back, fingers smoothing little, sleepy lines against her shirt.

She should sit up, wake him up. Wake up herself. The last thing she wants to do is embarrass him by staying like this, because why would he want to?

But, Jesus...it's so fucking nice. It's so nice. They didn't have a blanket over them all night but somehow Dera's still so warm. For a few moments, she entertains the mental image of sleepily asking him to lay down with her instead so they can be more comfortable, but that leads to picturing a bed instead of a sofa, and immediately she's back to focusing on the here and now.

She thinks she hears him mumble something, but she doesn't want to ask him to repeat himself, doesn't want to risk him coming-to too soon. ]

Don't be awake yet, please. [ Almost equally mumbled, though that's helped by how sleepy she still is. ] That means it's already morning...

[brokenbirds]

Nu-uh. [Still half-asleep - maybe a little more than half - Dera shakes his head. And then a little, tiny smile curls on his lips, and he mutters:] Don't leave in the morning...s'breakfast time...

[57times]

[ Despite herself, she smiles wider. Perhaps holds onto him just a fraction tighter. ]

...I won't.

another thread for @57times?? Shock (later that night)

[brokenbirds]

hey

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[57times]

Hey

how're you?

[ She's not nervous suddenly you're nervous shut up. ]

How's Jeremy's face?

[brokenbirds]

[He IS nervous.]

to his dismay he will live
also it hurts so now hes all grumpy about it

I feel bad which i think makes him feel a little better

im okay tho how are u

[57times]

Get him some frozen peas and get yourself
...idk
whatever you fancy.


Yeah I'm okay

So um

Did Jeremy talk to you at all
just cause he said he would
or he kind of threatened to
kind of

[ Smooth. ]

[brokenbirds]

[No less smooth than his brain is.]

he’s always got smth to say but
yeah kind of

did you guys kiss or smth??
I’m not like mad I’m jw

I mean why would I be mad that would be dumb
I’m not

I’m jw

[So smooth.]

PSL with @invalidvalue

[brokenbirds]

[Dera doesn't know where he is.

[Well. He's very clearly in a Wal-Mart, but it's Not Quite Right-Mart(TM), is it?

[He must be dreaming. Why is the floor so...wet? And a shelf halfway knocked over. Overhead in the electronics section, all the TV screens are playing QVC. He must have left it on.

[Weird that he's still sleeping somehow.

[In dream Wal-Mart, nobody can stop you from smoking, maybe. He lights up a cigarette and takes a few steps around, lazy and dull-looking. Faded blue hair half-obscures his eyes. Idly, he picks up a pad of rubber duck stationary. Is that thing that they say about not being able to write in dreams true? He tears the plastic off and grabs a nearby pen.

["Fuck this."

[Okay. So, not true, then.

[Jeremy should be showing up any minute, he figures.]

[invalidvalue]

[Wow, this is new!]

[Not the department store, exactly. Val knows what those are—like she knows about lots of things which her ever-limited existence doesn’t exactly offer. But there’s something awfully concrete about those buzzing fluorescents, the linoleum smell. And are people… talking? In unfamiliar voices?!]

[She’s a kid in a candy store, glued to the wall of TVs. Look at that, real flesh-and-blood human people! Selling real things! It doesn’t look like incomprehensible automated gobbledygook! Maybe characters dream of electric capitalism after all.]

Huh! Would you look at that. [Thinking out loud! The smell of cigarette, drifting from an adjacent aisle behind her, barely registers.] What’cha sellin’ next, Martha?

the mcrib icon btw

[brokenbirds]

[There's a pause. He is not alone in Dream-Mart. Weird. If Chuck somehow followed him, he's officially going to chalk them up as a hallucination. But it doesn't sound like Chuck.

[With some vague sense of curiosity, he peers around the corner. Someone is staring at the QVC: IMAX EXPERIENCE like they've never seen a TV wall before. He takes another drag on his cigarette, politely blowing it up straight into the air once he's done.]

Probably more bakeware. That's usually what comes next.

[Hello Martha Stewart. Dera and you have become quite well-acquainted over the past several years...]

mcrib fucks!

[invalidvalue]

[That puff of cigarette, Val notices—and the voice, helloooo. She turns immediately, and oh lo and behold—]

Oh, you are the most coherent NPC I have seen in a while! [By which she means, there is a head. And a body, and a face, and generally more depth than some sketchy stick figure. Fascinating!]