Singillatim Mod Helpers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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singillppl2024-03-16 11:10 am
singhelpers) wrote in singillppl2024-03-16 11:10 am
Entry tags:
ic fmk: sing edition
— post your a toplevel for your character or throw three people's names out into the ether
— decide which one your character would like to fuck (or hug for the wee ones), marry, or kill
— respond appropriately
— shenanigans ensue
why
it's not going to happen.
[And he almost says YES, that yes marriage is like being on a team because that's when Tim feels togetherness and love and patience and grace and kindness and years and years of it
but Kate hadn't... meant it that way, and Tim doesn't know what to do.
Like life is great just because you share it with someone else? Tell that to all the broken plates and sleepless nights and bankrupt--
oh my god, he thinks,
she's speaking English but she barely makes sense. She's being mean for the heck of it.
Tim can relate. He sighs, agitation put aside to nod and agree, ]
Right. Right, you expected hugs.
[to make everything better.]
life is suffering
[ Okay, now she's technically teasing. She gets it. It wouldn't happen, and she's shaking her head with a tiny smile. She's eviscerated you enough, Tim.
(Maybe Wynonna's rubbing off on her a little too much.)
It's weird. Sometimes he make her all... weird. ]
Honestly, I wasn't exactly expecting hugs, either. [ There's discomfort and she swallows, shrugging. ] But like... that's a whole other thing.
[ Her face goes blank. Viral slut. Kate twerks for Jesus. Will bang for Jesus. Hey Kate, we loved your porno.
... She'd prefer hugs. She always did.
That was never her. ]
no subject
He considers asking March for a drink, and then promptly remembers that he actually kinda hates the taste. Alcohol is gross. Tim's curiosity was satiated years ago. It tastes dis.gus.ting.
Kate goes blank.
Tim lets his head drop, meaning it bumps and rests on her shoulder heavily and annoyingly due to their relative positions on this Bonfire Night night.
He's no mind reader. But he's seen some things.
He hopes his hair doesn't smell like a barn, though it's wrangled into submission despite the unruly growth. What kind of tiger are you, asked Salamanca. The kind that headbutts for attention, apparently.]
You're fine. 'm not a fan of Other Things either.
[says the Lying Liar Who Lies.
...........god has forsaken them.
so
naturally,]
Who's going to tell Derpy we're not gonna tie the knot after all...?
no subject
but she's just sitting there— very quietly— red in the face—
It's a very close proximity.
To, like, a boy.
(His hair does kinda smell like a barn. Sawdust too, she thinks. It's not all that gross.)
You're fine. 'm not a fan of Other Things either. and she's glad she doesn't have to explain anything further with that, her shoulders seem a whole lot less tense. ]
Frodo. [ She corrects him. ] We're not calling him Derpy, anymore.
no subject
Tim's hot leaf juice (tea) is no longer warmish and the cup just sorta precariously dangles off the fingers of one limp hand.
Tim, having found a mildly horizontal surface to rest his head against as he sits, is breathing very evenly, very deeply.
Her shoulders are too small, too bony, and a flyaway strand of hair tickles his nose.
7/10. Would not recommend.
Dead to the world, she should count it as a miracle that he's not even drooling. Tbh.]
no subject
... oh my gosh, did he... literally just fall asleep on her?!
Her face is still burning with... well, it's not indignation but it sure is burning. It's... something. A BOY FELL ASLEEP ON HER AND SHE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO.
So she's just going to... sit there, still as stone. Face bright red.
(And also take that tea away from him before he spills it all over them.)
(Thank you for not drooling.)
Someone please help. ]
oopzzzzzz
SO RUDE