strxssin-blog

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summer’s here who’s still around

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@brxknsxuls​

    SPOT WASN’T THE largest of people. he didn’t play sports     as a kid, and probably didn’t drink  enough  milk.  shoulders     weren’t very wide, and his legs  were  short,  though  stocky     by perspective.

                                so, all that being said, seeing him walking    the largest of dogs    ( more like a small BEAR in actuality ) ,     looked a little bit ridiculous. it was  more  like  the  dog  was    taking HIM for  a  walk.  regardless,  he  needed  the  cash. 

                                    -- a little DESPERATELY, honestly.

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last-plea:

cody was a clumsy kid. whenever he played outside he would fall and get hurt pretty bad. he would come back home with a huge bruise. but his mom always cleaned it up and made sure to put some bandages on it. that would do the trick back then. but as he got older he realized that this process didn’t work for wounds that weren’t physical. upon seeing spot again cody felt the pain kick in, someone had ripped of the bandages he had carefully crafted during all that time time away from the other. “you’re leaving?” he asks, a frown surging on his face. “do you want to come in?” he steps aside making room for the other to walk in. he didn’t understand why he was doing this. there were no guarantees that the pain would stop. 

he had barely even been to his apartment. he only went to drop off his suitcase, then came directly to cody’s place to see the other. to say cody was on his mind would be the understatement of the year. the  mixed reaction from the other leaves spot a little bit uncertain, but he’s eager to catch up with the other; eager to hear how they’ve been, how  the school’s been. swallowing thickly, he ruffles the hairs on the back of his head. “is... is that okay?” he asks, wanting to make sure the  other wasn’t offended that he came over with absolutely zero notice beforehand.

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withinend:

( ❛ featuring ) @strxssin

          he laughed. it was short and he quickly covered his mouth, but the nearly empty library managed to easily carry his voice the distance it needed to assure him the noise was definitely heard. but when he sees the blood and realizes the stranger got injured to a degree he hadn’t anticipated, james is quickly taking strides over in order to check on his well-being. ❛ hey, you alright? saw you get…attacked. ❜   there’s a smile; a HINT of a snort. he tries to hide it badly, wills himself not to find amusement at the situation, but is unable to divert from his initial reaction.

       it was awful. he was so at ease where he was -- so comfortable. snuggled comfortably on a bean bag chair underneath the GREEK MYTH section of the library. it wasn’t long after he sat down when down came a poorly managed stack of books that rested on top of the shelf. thankfully they were mostly short, soft cover story books, but in the shower of pages came one particularly sharp-edged book. “yowch!” he lets out a small yelp, hand quick to press against his wound. after a few moments of trying to get his shit together, he looks up to the other that approached. “yeah it’s mostly floppy books but...” he uncovers the wound, wincing a bit. “is it, uh, bleeding?”

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                   they will play a game and say               they know what you’re going through

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got straight A’s and a 3.9 gpa take that daddy issues

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last-plea:

he hasn’t crossed his mind in a while. some days he sees something  that reminds him of the other. his only reaction is a long, defeated  sigh. when he gets home he writes about him and wonders if he will ever come back. he wonders if there were something he could have done. today is not one of these days. he’s fine now, he has a little cat named cookie that keeps him company. when he hears the knock he just assumes it’s one of his neighbors wanting a favor. he wears his best smile and goes to open the door. when he sees the man on the other side he freezes. “h-hi? i-i didn’t know you were back in town.” he replied distantly as his smile faded.

“i--...” seeing the other’s reaction, he knew immediately this was a shit  thing to do. eyebrows tug together as words fail to escape his throat and slip from his mind. he felt so dumb standing there, hair trimmed nicely,  face shaven, tie pulled up to his neck. he swallows thickly, frowning, and begins to shake his head. “this... this was a bad idea. i--...” he takes a  step away from the entrance of the apartment -- the familiar apartment, where they’d woken up for so many mornings. but that all felt a million miles away at this point. “i should’ve texted you, or something. facebook. i’m gonna--...” he pauses, frown settling heavily on distressed features.  “i should go--”

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@killbred

         “ . . . ” 

    bar culture is fucking weird. one second everything fine      and dandy and the next there’s A FLURRY of fists and      limbs and a crowd of heated bodies throwing hands.      he’s sure the bartender has already called the cops, so     he knows it’ll end soon, but he can’t help but GAPE at     how quickly the atmosphere shifted.

                                                “ -- jesus christ.” 

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@last-plea​

oh, no. oh no oh no. this wasn’t the best idea. this was terrible. he wasn’t ready for this. but there he was -- knocking on the  other’s apartment door after a year and six month transfer to fucking BARCELONA to teach kids elementary english. there’s  a small, neatly wrapped gift in his hands, and jacket smells  vaguely of cheap cologne. they’d put their... whatever they  were on pause and now... now it seemed, it was time to read- dress what they had. it’s just... been so long. 

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mumbliings:

@strxssin

“Candy cane?” It’s a simple gesture, barely audible even in the quiet around them, but it means so much coming from Musa. He can’t stand this time of the year, but Spot seems to be helping. At least a little bit.

“hm?” he murmurs distractedly, forcing his eyes to avert from the text he was trying to type out. admittedly, it was hard for him to actively text and focus on his surroundings without messing up. he sets his phone down next to him, glancing curiously at the other. “what’d you say?”

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    gaze flickers across unknown faces. in the midst of party lights     and raving sounds, and with a fortification of bodies, he’s NEVER     felt more on edge. today wasn’t his day. he should... he should     go home. index finger lightly traces the rim of his solo cup, before     he makes a small sound. a mumble of frustration.

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i just finished finals so im tryna write up some starters for people

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ofmaleficis:

he’s staring still, but BLANKY now. this kid had to be high, right? or at least on something, jack just has to figure out WHAT. “i       “ he has no idea, still, how to RESPOND. “       the moon?” his gaze stays firmly on the other, and any ANNOYANCE he had was gone, and just replaced with CONFUSION.

huh, quiet one. nervous? confused? surprised? “the moon,” he says, with only a tad bit of judgment. as the conversation strengthened, he scoots a bit closer to the other. “you gotta work with me here a little. what about the moon?  i need details. i could just ask you a bunch of intrusive follow-up questions, if you WANT me to.” 

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mumbliings:

and finally he just gives in to his want, unable to stop himself when he hears that sweet little bit of gratitude. he wraps his arms around spot’s chest, resting the smaller on his feet as they waited in line. “’course they do. wouldn’t be a real café if they didn’t.” he orders two hot chocolates, a medium and a large, and gives the taller of the two to spot, sitting right next to the windows.

“mm,” he murmurs in agreement, offering a nod to the other as they waited in line. “you’re still so comfy,” he says with a bashful sort of smile. a bit of red rises to his cheeks as he gets the taller one -- he knows very well he won’t be able to drink the whole thing, but he sure could try. “oh, right next to the bridge.” he mumbles in awe, staring at the river scene. “this is perfect.”

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makeyoubleeds:

          it’s not entirely detestable — that’s the best he’ll give. “i dunno who yous know. either way, i ain’t sayin’ it.” he pauses, hoping to give spot an opening to let go, but he doesn’t. “—are y’done?”

“aw, fine.” he murmurs, his hold on the hug lessening, but without him completely pulling away. “nope. if you won’t SAY it, i need more love to last me longer.” 

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mumbliings:

“must be tired,” he hummed, eyes closing at the kiss and thinking, yet again, god how he missed this. “i know. i like paying for stuff, though. less for you to worry ‘bout.” his hand moves up and down spot’s side, trying to keep him warm so that, by the time they reach the little café with the perfect view of the bridge the smaller is no longer cold (that is, if he was to begin with).

with good response, too. spot had been with a jacket for the past few weeks, but up until recently had it begun to become a little bit too light for the season. now it was getting cold, but he had no other jacket. perhaps another reason being home would be better for him. “thank you,” he murmurs, though it is ambiguous if it was for the warmth or paying. as they enter, he squints up at the menu. “they’ve got hot chocolates, right?”