J_ne
"It hurts to be nothing with you"
(Any gender can join. I also don’t really have a set plot in mind, just know that I would like it to be a slow burn romance, so feel free to make anything you want out of your response.)
June was what most people would call a prude, or a prick, perhaps. She was busy most of the time, either buried in the stories she had to finish before a set deadline or too lost in her head to pay any mind to those in her life. Or, those who used to be in her life.
She wasn’t rude, not unless she needed to be, just more interested in her own pursuits than those of others. Not to mention her introverted tendencies that only made her seem closed off; unreachable without her own aid and willingness to let someone in.
Independence wasn’t new to her. She’d grown used to it after so many months of solitude, but she would never admit to the loneliness it brought her. Not for pride, but for the fact that she wished it to be untrue, and to say it would be the same thing as bringing her tragic reality to the surface.
A sigh snaked past her pinkish lips just as a lukewarm cup of black coffee rose to them. The afternoon sun lacked vibrancy; it was void of the warmth she used to long for so often. Tired bags on her pale skin signified the all-nighters she had been pulling in an attempt to catch up on all the work she had been avoiding.
Another groan.
June’s head tilted back to provide her straining eyes a break from staring at her all-too-bright laptop screen. Wavy, black hair -almost the same shade as her long sleeve shirt- fell from her face upon the movement, but quickly reverted back to its original place only a moment later when she returned to her previous sitting position.
She had gone to a local cafe in hopes of getting something done. The cozy atmosphere and natural color scheme seemed like the perfect place to ease the stress that blocked her mental functions and allow creativity to surge through.
Wrong.
Her ongoing brain blockage persisted through the pleasant area that typically aided so much in her writing.
A harsh movement from her hand shut her laptop roughly. While her agitation didn’t show on her soft and weary features, it was more than evident in the way she handled her fragile objects, the way it seemed as if she had no care for their delicacy. Although, if anything, she cared far too much.
A motive, or perhaps a source of inspiration, was what she needed.
June wanted back the passion she had when she first chose to become a creator; an artist of words and fantastical worlds and situations. The search seemed endless; it was relentless and draining, but she never stopped. Her hunt for a muse, a new subject of focus would not stop until it was found.
Pushing her thin-framed glasses back up her nose, June placed her laptop into a plain, cream-colored bag she had brought with her and stood up.
Staying there would do her no good, she decided, slowly pacing over to the trash bin and tossing out her soggy paper cup, she soon after wiped already-clean hands on her baggy cargo pants.
Afterwards, she made her way back over to the register. She was going to try to find another place to work, but with no set place in mind, her only plan of action was to wander aimlessly until some place seemed appealing enough to stop. And for that, liquid energy was a must.
There was practically no line, the cafe being a small and mostly unknown business, so she reached the front rather swiftly, placing the same order for another black coffee. After paying, June moved to the side to allow others to order their own drinks and pastries, whatever they may choose from the vast assortment of items for sale.
Back pressed to the wall and gaze drifting around the quaint area, her eyes landed on something, or someone, who she could not help but find interested in. Why so much curiosity had arisen in her mind for the stranger in nothing but a glance, she had no clue, but the anxiety that warped her mind with fear had no aid in convincing her to speak to the figure.
She looked away and shook her head softly, more to herself than anyone else. She wanted to speak to the person, of course, but her social courage was appallingly lacking, and her unwillingness to begin a conversation prevailed through everything else. Doubt that she would ever see the person again settled and she kept her eyes on the counter where her order would be given to her, contemplating on what to do: whether to speak to the stranger or not.
(Please PM me your response if you're interested, I heavily prefer it over a thread roleplay)
June was what most people would call a prude, or a prick, perhaps. She was busy most of the time, either buried in the stories she had to finish before a set deadline or too lost in her head to pay any mind to those in her life. Or, those who used to be in her life.
She wasn’t rude, not unless she needed to be, just more interested in her own pursuits than those of others. Not to mention her introverted tendencies that only made her seem closed off; unreachable without her own aid and willingness to let someone in.
Independence wasn’t new to her. She’d grown used to it after so many months of solitude, but she would never admit to the loneliness it brought her. Not for pride, but for the fact that she wished it to be untrue, and to say it would be the same thing as bringing her tragic reality to the surface.
A sigh snaked past her pinkish lips just as a lukewarm cup of black coffee rose to them. The afternoon sun lacked vibrancy; it was void of the warmth she used to long for so often. Tired bags on her pale skin signified the all-nighters she had been pulling in an attempt to catch up on all the work she had been avoiding.
Another groan.
June’s head tilted back to provide her straining eyes a break from staring at her all-too-bright laptop screen. Wavy, black hair -almost the same shade as her long sleeve shirt- fell from her face upon the movement, but quickly reverted back to its original place only a moment later when she returned to her previous sitting position.
She had gone to a local cafe in hopes of getting something done. The cozy atmosphere and natural color scheme seemed like the perfect place to ease the stress that blocked her mental functions and allow creativity to surge through.
Wrong.
Her ongoing brain blockage persisted through the pleasant area that typically aided so much in her writing.
A harsh movement from her hand shut her laptop roughly. While her agitation didn’t show on her soft and weary features, it was more than evident in the way she handled her fragile objects, the way it seemed as if she had no care for their delicacy. Although, if anything, she cared far too much.
A motive, or perhaps a source of inspiration, was what she needed.
June wanted back the passion she had when she first chose to become a creator; an artist of words and fantastical worlds and situations. The search seemed endless; it was relentless and draining, but she never stopped. Her hunt for a muse, a new subject of focus would not stop until it was found.
Pushing her thin-framed glasses back up her nose, June placed her laptop into a plain, cream-colored bag she had brought with her and stood up.
Staying there would do her no good, she decided, slowly pacing over to the trash bin and tossing out her soggy paper cup, she soon after wiped already-clean hands on her baggy cargo pants.
Afterwards, she made her way back over to the register. She was going to try to find another place to work, but with no set place in mind, her only plan of action was to wander aimlessly until some place seemed appealing enough to stop. And for that, liquid energy was a must.
There was practically no line, the cafe being a small and mostly unknown business, so she reached the front rather swiftly, placing the same order for another black coffee. After paying, June moved to the side to allow others to order their own drinks and pastries, whatever they may choose from the vast assortment of items for sale.
Back pressed to the wall and gaze drifting around the quaint area, her eyes landed on something, or someone, who she could not help but find interested in. Why so much curiosity had arisen in her mind for the stranger in nothing but a glance, she had no clue, but the anxiety that warped her mind with fear had no aid in convincing her to speak to the figure.
She looked away and shook her head softly, more to herself than anyone else. She wanted to speak to the person, of course, but her social courage was appallingly lacking, and her unwillingness to begin a conversation prevailed through everything else. Doubt that she would ever see the person again settled and she kept her eyes on the counter where her order would be given to her, contemplating on what to do: whether to speak to the stranger or not.
(Please PM me your response if you're interested, I heavily prefer it over a thread roleplay)
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