- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per day
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- Online Availability
- 3pm - 1am (GMT / BST)
- Writing Levels
- Beginner
- Elementary
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Nonbinary
- Transgender
- No Preferences
- Genres
- Monsters, supernatural, fantasy, romance, criminality, slice-of-life (modern or set in past, usually with some twists)
"Oh come on, I'm not a moron. We went and had fun. Sue us. You know, if Molly and I ever have kids, like hell are you invited to the birth. Not that I want kids. This experience has put me off," grunted the man as he easily ignored the glares he received, and disregarded Tommy's anger with a wave of his hand. Thomas of course meant a lot to him - the two had bonded, and Thomas had often come to his defence when nobody else did. However, this whole situation, that of which he felt had been blown completely out of proportion, had affected the friendship. He didn't want to fight with anyone in the family (he did too much of that in his work), especially not Thomas.
"Look, hate me, alright? Don't hate Mol," he finally mumbled, his angry tone and threatening physicality ending the moment he flopped back with a lazy grin. "Hey, we're mates, right? You know I don't hate 'ya, Tom. Hey, to make up for it, I can... take you out for food tomorrow or something. I dunno, I'm sorry-- sorry, alright?"
Noticing the latter apology was directed at him, Mikey wearily smiled through stuffing his face with the extra food - he didn't get much of it at home, with his father choosing to spend their money on electricity and heating than food. It was partly why Mikey visited so often: for the free meals. "I... guess it's fine? I wasn't really listening, it's nothing to do with me, so... I... hey, sure you don't want some of this, Tom? You make me look greedy, a-aha..."
"Look, hate me, alright? Don't hate Mol," he finally mumbled, his angry tone and threatening physicality ending the moment he flopped back with a lazy grin. "Hey, we're mates, right? You know I don't hate 'ya, Tom. Hey, to make up for it, I can... take you out for food tomorrow or something. I dunno, I'm sorry-- sorry, alright?"
Noticing the latter apology was directed at him, Mikey wearily smiled through stuffing his face with the extra food - he didn't get much of it at home, with his father choosing to spend their money on electricity and heating than food. It was partly why Mikey visited so often: for the free meals. "I... guess it's fine? I wasn't really listening, it's nothing to do with me, so... I... hey, sure you don't want some of this, Tom? You make me look greedy, a-aha..."