#probablyworried

[maydaaay-blog]

@probablyworried ; *. ~ . ✷   starter call!

      If she wasn’t so tipsy, Mae probably would have screamed at the stranger who had popped outta nowhere just before her. One minute, she was drunkenly rambling about her old high school sweetheart, staring at her Doc Martens, the next she was locking eyes with someone she had never seen. She leans forward, a sloppy grin on her face. “You here for the party?” In the woods, there was a campfire crackling and a keg being promptly emptied by young adults. Mae had stumbled and strayed too far from her friends and now found herself face to face with a figure she could hardly make out. Shit, man. I gotta sober up! 

[etwasisimsarchive-blog1]

    ❝ tell me you have a good reason     for being here. ❞ in actuality, there     probably WASN’T one. ( alek was     a firm believer in all reasons are     excuses ; && they’re all dumb. )

@probablyworrieda​

[thatonesakudere]

@probablyworried

‘Parks aren’t as nice during the day.’

That’s the first thought that comes to her head when she leans against one of many trees around here, taking in the view. It’s dark, almost too dark for her to see, but she doesn’t mind, finding this odd comfort in being here completely alone, in peace and quiet. Coldness doesn’t bother her but the skin on her hands still starts to slowly change it’s hue to a bluer one. After all winter is here and although her illness prevents her from feeling the change in temperature, Mayu is still affected by it.

Her eyes catch a sight of a figure in a distance, and it anger her because it was supposed to be her moment. Still, one of her biggest ‘flaws’, curiosity, forces the dark haired girl to approach the stranger.

Yes, it’s dangerous and no - she doesn’t give a single shit about it.

[llvnroosters-blog]

@probablyworried​:

         he doesn’t even both to look up at the other standing in front of him.          it was a job and he did what he had to do. it’s not like he was doing          this for fun. rubbing a wet cloth along the length of his blade, he did          what he could to get the blood off of the steel. he was not going to          A P O L O G I Z E for getting his work done. he’s also not going to          apologize for the BONER he has right now. it’s not that he gets off          on killing people. he’ll preach that until the day he dies. he just…          happens to have a blood fetish. it’s not his fault. his body just —

                                          reacts to it without his say. “if ya have a probl’m wif it,                                           ya don’ have ta come on t’ nex’ one.”

        he didn’t mind having to work with another person. he really & truly didn’t.         HOWEVER, he also didn’t want to be criticized for things he just couldn’t         control. “las’ i checked, ‘m more t’an’elpfult’have aroun’.” he may not like         the job but he is certainly good at it. it’s why he’s become such a demand         recently and why he had been paired up with the other.

   of course, moose didn’t HAVE to come to the next one.    but she’d busted her ASS to get where she was now.    ( they’d asked her to pursue haywood -- but felt it was    treason -- not only was she now removed from her chair    at the table, but also her place in canada’s assassins. )    -- so no, she was most surely coming to the next one ;     && all that she could. her entire life was a dedicated    assassin - ry. there was no way in hell she could throw    it all away.    ❝ sorry, ❞ she’ll start with, as she always does, ❝ i’m just    -- not used to that kinda stuff. there’s really no need to    be so rough, ❞ a pause, ❝ sorry, again. ❞ the file in her hand,    of the reasons of WHY this assassination was taking    place, && her following list of ways to make the attempt    more comfortable, her signature offer, is clutched dormantly.    figuring for the next one, she won’t have to make another.            arms cross over her chest, tucking the file neatly between    them as she does so. ❝ who trained you, eh --  i can’t    imagine any teacher being so ... ❞ uncontrolled, merciless --    but while her adjectives list on, it occurs to her that nobody    probably DID train him. a guy like this doesn’t seem like the    kind to take too nicely to help. which was why it had taken    ass busting to get moose where she was now, uncomfortable,    semi - blood splattered, && in awe. perhaps he was ... CREATIVE    but he was GOOD.    

[unwriite-blog]

@probablyworried | starter call

                     ‘ hey, aren’t you the radio guy -- ? ’

      it’s after it comes out of her mouth that she realises how that sounds, sheepishness in the exhale, the duck of her gaze that follows.

                   ‘ sorry. that -- sounded less creepy in my head. i just -- have a voice thing. i guess. ’ an excessive attention to detail, otherwise. either/or.

[etwasisimsarchive-blog1]

     ❝ i do not understand why you      are like this, ❞ yes, she’s agitated.      but she doesn’t TRUST herself to      be ; instead, she’ll frame is as      confusion && hope her eyes stay      brown. ❝ -- ALWAYS like this. ❞

@probablyworried

[etwasisimsarchive-blog1]

   of course, despite the ungodly hour, michael had been awake.    he’d been throwing darts && watching a friends rerun ; buying the    time had without sleep with cheap entertainment.     he was TIRED.    but hayden’s text comes through, && in a four minute exchange,    he’s coming over. but not for fun, doubtful he’d join the dart     throwing if michael didn’t volunteer to be the board.     the peach boy waits by the back door. either side of him is    a washer && drier, both covered in the darkest towels the    household possessed. michael doesn’t take hayden for an    exaggerator, unlike himself. the door is unlocked && propped    open, so that he could open it slowly now instead of in haste    upon arrival. ❝ come on, you shit, ❞ he’ll grumble, ❝ it’s fucking    cold out there -- ❞ 

@probablyworried

[unfortunateone-blog1]

          IT’S UNFORGIVING. unforgiving, risky, a thrill; his job, that is. he loves every minute of it, or so he says. this is what he was made to do. the family he was born into has worked under the largo’s for years, nuka meant to do the same. and he does, doing the dirty things those pretty, rich-bitch brothers and sister don’t want to do. he gets the information seemingly difficult to get and runs with it. it’s what he’s been doing to this poor boy for the last few weeks, after all.

          and so he slips so effortlessly into the crowd of mindless junkies, no one giving a second glance in his direction. maybe it’s the way he’s modified himself, maybe it’s the look of ‘ don’t come near me ’ that startles them.. maybe they’re just too fucked up to care. tattooed fingers wrap around the wrist of someone familiar, nuka immediately putting on the charm that comes so easily. ❝ samuel, ❞ he lets go, falling in step beside the other. ❝ i haven’t seen you crawlin’ these streets in a long time. where you been, huh ? hidin’ from me ? ❞ he wouldn’t be the only one.

               @probablyworried // sc.