Post #2025216 in Notting's, a roleplay on RPG

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You know how everything always goes your way? Neither does Thyme. That’s why it didn’t come as a surprise when the insistent, loud, and overall obnoxious banging that roused him from his sleep continued on and left his practically pleading prayers of silence left unanswered. An audible groan sounded from the tangle of sheet and limbs as the blunette stiffly turned in bed to sandwich his face and blue locks between mattress and pillow; a futile attempt to ward off unwanted sound and hopefully earn himself a few extra minutes of a much needed, and very much desired, unconscious state. The irritated noise resounded off the fading walls, mingled with the ever persistent din that served to be the bane in the Scot’s existence at that given moment, and then thundered back to the disgruntled heap that was Thyme.

“Thyme! I know you’re in there!”

Thyme groaned louder as he recognized the annoying and terribly feigned American accent. “Fuck off, Nessa.” Was his intended response to his sister’s irritating antics, but, considering his face was pressed into the mattress, came out as unintelligible garble.

The insistent thundering continued undisturbed, but was now accompanied by a very unwanted addition of an American poser’s voice. “Don’t make me break this door down, Splendid!”

Thyme’s eyebrow ticked at the insufferable nickname. Did she really have to go there? Don’t get him wrong, Thyme loved his kid sister, but sometimes -most times- he just wanted to kick that stick already firmly implanted up her arse so hard it pierced through her skull. Honestly. All she ever did was nag and complain to him about how he’s wasting his life or how he’ll never get a job looking like that or how he should eat this or shampoo with this and blah, blah, blah. The list goes on. But really, it was His life. And fyi, he can to get a fucking job looking like he did. In fact, he started his first day today. Pause. One beat. Two. Shit. Thyme pulled his green gaze from the welcoming embrace of the back of his eyelids and glanced at the bedside clown-clock. Flashing across the admittedly creepy piano-key grin of the clown in digital figures the time read 7:52. Had he really slept through his alarm? Oh, wait. He hadn’t even bothered to set it. Looks like he’d be late to his first day of work... Meh.

As he was readying himself to succumb to the sweet temptations of sleep once more, the banging at his door suddenly stopped. Huh. She had given up a lot faster than he would have thought. Usually she’s so stubborn and hell-bent on getting what she wanted… Thyme blanched. There was no way she would have given up this easily. The sheets were untangled from his limbs as he quickly dragged his disgruntled frame towards the door. He flung it open and was greeted by a smug smile. Thyme frowned as his evergreen orbs searched his sister head to toe. No gun or hammer to smash the knob off… No wrench or lock pick… She was just standing there in her stark white blouse and pinstriped skirt as if she hadn’t been threatening to break down his door moments ago.

“Finally.” Nessa smiled dryly up at her elder brother as he leaned against the doorframe in nothing but an off-white T-shirt that hung loosely to his frame and a pair of navy boxers. “We need to talk.”

Thyme made no notion to reply or even show he had heard his sister, but instead reached out and snagged the thin glasses from his sister’s face. He examined them lightly before perching them on his nose. “Why do you wear these? You don’t even need glasses.”

Nessa scowled up at her brother as he disregarded her last statement and clawed at her glasses. After a brief quarrel amongst siblings, the glasses were returned to their rightful owner and Nessa stood straighter, clearing her throat and freeing invisible dust from her professional-looking attire. She allowed the glare that adorned her face to soften as she took a deep breath and looked to the corner of Thyme’s door. “You know I love you, right? That I only want what’s best for you?” Thyme scrutinized his sister with wary orbs. What was his sister getting at? “Well… I do. And I feel that you aren’t really making any progress in your life,” Thyme let out a heavy sigh. Here we go again… This is where his sister would go on and on about how he should be making something of his life, how he should be out in the world, acting like a grown adult. She would talk for hours on end listing every flaw and habit she felt inappropriate for a grown man to harbor and then continue on to tell him how to fix them; what new habits he should adopt… Like actually folding his clothes and even talking to people… Thyme involuntarily shuddered at the prospect. “So I signed you up for therapy.” …What? Thyme froze mid thought and stared at his sister. Had he heard correctly…? Therapy? There’s no way he had heard her right; she wasn’t that much of a fucking prick. Well sure she always wanted to be in control of every situation, like his life. And yes she always seemed to enjoy getting under his skin, but she wouldn’t have gone this far. Right? Of course not. It had to be her idea of some twisted joke. It was her just wanting to get her older brother all riled up and huffy. “Right, right, right. And I’m a servant to the flirtatious fish god.”

“…What?” Nessa arched a brow quizzically at her brother before shaking her head “I’m serious, Thyme. I signed you up and this is exactly why. You can’t take anything seriously.”

“…You signed me up for therapy -without my permission- because I like to joke around.” Thyme narrowed his eyes.

“Not because you joke-“ Thyme raised his hand in a futile attempt to cut his sister off. “But because you need to grow up. Your bloody nineteen, Thyme! And-“ Nessa bit her lip, effectively cutting off the flow of her worried words, and furrowed her brow. She was not about to tell him why she was so worried about him all the time. At the suspicious arch in her brother’s brow, Nessa averted her eyes to the inside of her brother’s apartment. She noticeably flinched as her gaze landed on the many unsettling clown figurines before shaking herself slightly and turning back to her brother.

“And what?” Thyme’s interest in the conversation was reengaged. It wasn’t often his sister seemed unsure of herself.

“And nothing. I signed you up for therapy and you are going. Your first session is in a few hours. At 10:15.”

“But I have work.” Not that he gave a shit; his first shift ended before ten anyways. But Nessa didn’t have to know that. At the questioning look his sister gave him, Thyme elaborated, “I landed a job at the coffee shop down the block.” He shrugged nonchalantly and began to turn. “My shift starts in… Like 5 minutes. So fuck off. I gotta get into ‘uniform’.” Thyme sneered at the word and began to close the door in his beloved sister’s face but was stopped as a slender arm darted out and knocked his aside. Before he could reach for the door again, Nessa had already wormed her way through the doorway and was standing behind him.

“Your first day and you’re just going to allow yourself to be late?” Thyme shrugged at his sister “See, this is exactly the attitude that’s gotten you fired all those times before. Do you expect to get anywhere in life hopping from job to job constantly? Honestly-“

Thyme rolled his eyes as his sister went off on her ranting tangent and turned towards his room to get changed. He scowled down at the heap of clothing piled on the floor at the end of the bed before stalking over and grabbing a loose T and a pair of well worn, dark jeans. Haphazardly throwing on his ensemble, Thyme turned a look of distaste upon the red-brown apron given to him by his new job. They insisted upon having the employees tie these ridiculous looking pieces of shit around their waists. If it hadn’t been for the conveniently placed pockets, Thyme could have said he detested the thing.

“Thyme! You just walked off while I was talking!” An irritated -well, more irritated than usual- Nessa appeared in the bedroom doorway, hand on hip.

“Hm? You were talking? I must have mistaken your horrible American accent for the bat screeching outside.”

His sister let out an exasperated sigh, “First of all, my accent is just find, and second, its morning. There is no bat screeching.” Thyme just shrugged and halfheartedly responded with his fallback ‘right, right, right…’. “Now hurry up, I have classes later today and if I’m going to drive you to work and still make it to school on time we have to leave now.”

“Drive me?” Thyme frowned at his sister, “I never agreed to that.”

“I have to make sure you actually go to work today. And I want to know where you’re working.” Thyme simply looked at his sister. Why the hell does she need to know where I work. “So that way I can check up on you and make sure you actually go to your therapy session.” Ah… Thyme’s scowl darkened. He didn’t need therapy. He was a perfectly healthy, normal male human. Ha. He almost laughed aloud at the thought. Normal… Pfff. Why the fuck would anyone want to be ‘normal’? Normal today meant wearing slutty clothes and getting drunk off your ass. After all: ‘YOLO’. Whatever the hell that meant… Your ovaries like obscenities? Hmm… Maybe.

His thoughts were once again cut short as his arm was firmly grasped and he was pulled effortlessly from his apartment. He was too busy pondering the meaning of that mysterious acronym ‘YOLO’ to put up much a fight (not that he could if he wanted to… the stick), that he didn’t realize that they had already arrived at the café/dinner he now worked at until Ness interrupted his thoughts –again- . “Thyme, get out of my car. I’m going to be late for my classes.”

“Yorsh or lewd omens?” Nessa stared blankly at her brother before motioning for him to get out. Thyme blinked a few times, gathering his surroundings, before unbuckling and, being the considerate brother he was, sticking a thoroughly licked finger into his sister’s ear and twisting.

“You’re so immature!” His sister wiped furiously at her ear while burning holes through his head with her eyes.

“Only for you.” Thyme smirked, mood exponentially lifted, and slid out of the small black car. He sauntered through the double doors and was greeted by a disgustingly cheerful mood and a flood of stomach-churning, peptobismol-pink. His nose scrunched and his signature scowl returned as the unmistakable ‘old person smell’ wafted to his nostrils. Choking back the urge to gag, Thyme made his way to the counter where one of his new co-workers resided. The painfully average looking girl glanced up from her magazine, popping a large bubble of pink bubble gum, only to look back down, completely disregarding Thyme’s presence. The blunette stared mercilessly down at the young woman, not letting up until she looked back up again. She sighed and looked up from her beloved zine “Who’re you?”

“New.” Thyme gestured down to the ugly cloth tied around his waist. The girl regarded him for a moment, smacking her gum, before instructing him to ‘just go wait tables or somthin’’ and handing him a small notebook and minuscule pencil. Thyme inspected the wooden sliver he had been handed in light distaste; how the fuck could anyone write with this? It was practically the size of his little finger! He disapprovingly shook his head as he wondered over to the only unwaited table. Thyme stood near the end of the distastefully coloured booth, still regarding the pencil and waited for the booth’s only occupant to order. When said order never came, Thyme sighed exasperatedly, “Yee gonna order? Or just sit there and waste all our oxygen.”

Snippet #2025216

located in California, a part of Notting's, one of the many universes on RPG.

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