I’m just amazingly tired of tumblr people treating online rp as though it’s some kind of solitary pastime. As though it’s somehow different from inviting people to hang out with you in real life, and standing them up or cutting them off or outright ignoring them after they’ve shown up.
Gah, I promised myself I wouldn’t engage with this frustration tonight.
Derek was a little startled at the sudden hug and rush of emotion, though he caught her and tentatively patted her back soothingly, still a tad bit stunned at the force of her gratitude but glad he could help and make someone feel so thankful.
Summer gave Derek the most sceptical expression she could muster and put up her hands, making pushing motions at the mug. It had been bitter and harsh and she felt like something had died in her mouth now. Acquiring another mug from the cabinet, she poked through the refrigerator, identifying a carton that looked promising — milk. After a long gulp to wash the taste of coffee out of her mouth, she looked up at Derek, licking at the milk mustache.
Derek just shrugged and poured her cup out, passing Isaac his. Isaac hummed at his coffee but then nearly choked on the second sip when he saw Summer’s milk mustache. Derek just laughed and kept moving around getting things ready to make food. “Well at least you’ve found something you like.”
Summer emerged from her mug again to stick her tongue out at Isaac, before padding off, trailing robe hem, to find her pad and pencil. ‘what today? I don’t know what to do here’.
Send “Auction” for your muse buying mine as their slave
Derek snarled lowly but kept his head down as he was transferred to the person that bought him, seeing a small female form before him now.
“Most of us are desperate to be free. We seize it and run. Or beg.” She ran her fingers through her short hair.
“You’re passive.” It made it hard /not/ to treat him as a slave. Autumn figured he was testing them, waiting to see if they kept their word. Summer was afraid he was too broken to be saved. They had those sometimes.
It usually took Summer a week to recover from what she saw as failure.
“I’m observative,” he corrected. It wasn’t much of a correction. He took in what was happening, and if he didn’t see an opportunity he wanted to take, he would wait. That would give off the passive air.
“I get tired of running. I’ve been running. My whole life. Begging? Never got me anything. Got me tortured more often than not. No begging. Observing. Taking it in. Exploring for myself. And not approaching me with ‘You’re kinda free but you’re going to want to work for me, that or you get to go figure out how to live on your own after nearly 15 years in a slave market kay have fun’.” He had sunk down slowly against the wall until he was sitting, legs straight out in front of him. This day, as short as it had been, had already taken it all out of him.
“You’ve enough spirit to snarl, but not take care of yourself.” Autumn leaned against the doorframe, watching him slump. “What do you want?”
