actual-cross - Tumblr blog

[actual-cross]

RP-Starters: Hate, Rivalries and Irritation

“Oh, great, it’s you.”

“I can beat your ass any day.”

“Just fuck off.”

“I was having a great day. Your ugly mug just ruined it.”

“Yeah, you’re doing awesome. If losing is awesome, anyway.”

“You? Better than me? Right.”

“Oh I’ll beat you.”

“There’s no way I’ll be losing to you.”

“Leave, or I’ll see that you’ll be leaving in a bag.”

“There’s no way you can do it better.”

“Now you’re just being arrogant.”

“Was that a challenge?”

“There are no words to describe how much I hate you.”

“Can you not?”

“I’ve never seen anyone do it that badly.”

“I didn’t even know someone could fail at this.”

“Even a baby could beat you.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“You better start running.”

“Get the hell out of here, or I swear to god-”

[actual-cross]

“Why does it smell so bad?” He doesn’t enjoy the smell of burning food. Excuse him as he sprays his cologne everywhere.

[actual-cross]

.

[actual-cross]

He didn’t move at first, stretched out as he was, watching his lover walk away. Did he really want to move? Yes. Yes he did. Did he have the energy to move? No. No he did not. Eventually, his desire won out, and he bounced to his feet, practically skipping to the bedroom. 

      “ ….. You’re an odd one. Do you really just want to lay there? Fine. Forget it.” he said after the fact Cross had followed to the ground. WHO knows he might have wanted the attention of the other – but guess that wasn’t going to happen.” If you force yourself up any time soon – I’ll be in the bedroom.” he called out walking away. MAYBE he’ll get a hint throw his drunken mind. 

[actual-cross]

He’s just going to watch, waiting for Nea to choke on the liquor. 

“When you vomit I’m not cleaning you up.” Cross replied, shrugging his shoulders before leaning sideways, his hip pressing against the counter. “And if you vomit on me, you’re dead.” This might be a show, he’s going to stay and watch. Never mind the fact that he mayor may not be getting just a little turned on.

       To his credit, Nea made it a third of the way through the bottle before his         throat began to burn, pulling the bottle away with only the slightest of         coughs. Amber eyes narrowed up at Cross, determined to prove him        wrong.

          “ Shut up, I’m not gonna get sick. “

[actual-cross]

Things I've heard on campus, Sentence Starter Style

“Forget the threesome. I just want to join your detective agency.”

“No, look, I’m not saying we should rob the anthropological museum, it’s just that… okay. Maybe I’m saying we should rob the museum a little bit.”

“What if we killed all our citizens, but we fixed the public transportation system?”

“Listen. There’s a pit behind the cafeteria building. And I want you to meet me in it.”

“How many ways to you think there are to evade the library staff forever?”

“I’m sorry I gave your vertebra to someone else.”

“No. Sorry, no. It was a great plan until you got to the- the whole harpoon bit, but…”

“You know, we don’t need to be handcuffed together through our entire lunch.”

“Your dedication to this dance is both impressive and unsettling.”

“I’m not bitter. I’m just saying that if you checked your damn texts more often, maybe I wouldn’t have been trapped naked in the sports center for an hour last night.”

“WHO WANTS TO SEE SOME DEER BONES”

“Consummatum fucking est, mate.”

“Word of advice: Don’t nod while someone is holding a knife to your throat.”

“Do you have to wiggle like that?”

“You told me to do it. You told me you wanted it done. You didn’t tell me how.”

“Okay but can we talk about how your hand seems to be covered in blood?”

“I can hear your heartbeat. You’re alive.”

[actual-cross]

{Cat that is my personal butt it is not your pillow why}

[actual-cross]

Cross watched him chug, only slightly amused. If he didn’t vomit tonight, he’d have a horrible hangover in the morning. More than enough reward for leaving him the whiskey. 

“Ya, probably.” He replied, shrugging as he rested his hip against the counter. “And a lightweight would get sick, just like you will.” 

       Cross’ second comment didn’t even register, a scowl stretching at his lips.        Challenge accepted, bastard.

          “ Oh yeah? Could a lightweight do this? “        Ripping the top off the bottle, Nea raised it to his lips, tilting his head back        as he began to chug.

[actual-cross]

{she knows she's cute. @instinct-alone}

[actual-cross]

Cross watched it, pursing his lips. If he had been sober enough to find it before, he would have. But nope, he hadn’t been, and now Nea had it. What was his life? 

“You are a lightweight though.” Cross replied, reaching out and grabbing the counter, behind Nea, for support. “Why not just give me half of it now, then we’ll be good?” 

       Slowly, Nea lowered the bottle, clutching it protectively to his chest. Once        again, he kept his gaze away from the other’s eye, instead opting to stare        down at the whiskey in his arms.

          “ I’m not a lightweight just because I can’t drink my weight in                 liquor. If there’s any left when I’m done, it’s all your’s. “

[actual-cross]

Cross could easily grab the bottle, but instead he stopped, about 5 inches away from Nea. The red-head pouted, rubbing his face and knocking the eyepatch completely off. 

“Ya, but you’re a lightweight...” Cross whined, pointing to the bottle. “That’s fullllllllll.” 

       Eyes widened as Nea backed up all the way into a counter, rolling onto          his toes and holding the bottle high above his head. Not that it did much,        considering he wasn’t exactly the tallest man around.

          “ No! You drank everything else, and I even bought you chips. This                 is mine. “

[actual-cross]

Cross made a small noise, the jibe going over his drunken head. Say that when he’s not drunk, and you may die. Good luck with that. He watched the whiskey, tilting his head to the side. More booze sounded wonderful. 

“I’ll share if you do.” Cross replied, wobbling on his feet as he reached for the bottle of whiskey. That’s just what he doesn’t need; more booze.

          “ You’re one to talk, you Phantom of the Opera reject. “        Grumbling out the words, he bent at the waist, head half in the fridge while        he nudged aside various ( probably expired ) food products in search of        their hidden whiskey. It only took him a moment before he let out a soft         ‘aha!’, straightening up and slamming the refrigerator door closed while        holding his prize proudly.

          “ Great, now– Are you going to share those or do I have to fight                  you for them? “

[actual-cross]

“But...” Cross whined, nuzzling against Link’s neck. “Fine... I’ll lay here...” He agreed after a long moment, more or less falling back on the carpet, stretching out.

“ if you won’t move with me — forget the bath and I’ll drop your ass down right here,” he spoke sighing deeply. 

[actual-cross]

{Test: You are straight! 

Me: Ding dong you are wrong.}

[actual-cross]

“Uh-huh, whatever.” Cross noticed the Cheetos then, more or less lunging like a wild animal for them. He’d shoot the bag if he had to, he was getting them open. Thankfully he managed to pull the bag open with minimal violence, and started munching on them immediately.

“I said I didn’t, didn’t I?” Cross replied, leaning against the counter, licking cheese off his fingers. “Maybe you shouldn’t be so blind.” 

          “ Shut up, prick, I’m a fucking saint. “        Milk was haphazardly thrown into the fridge, the promised bag of cheetos        laying on the counter for Cross to take should he still want them. Quite        frankly, Nea didn’t care if he was too drunk to open them himself, far too        focused on looking through their meager kitchen, oblivious to the other        watching him.

          “ Where’s the whiskey? You didn’t drink that too, did you? “

[actual-cross]

“... You give me a headache...” Cross muttered, shaking his head. Why he was starting to care about the kid, he didn’t know. The hit-man held up three fingers, before twisting his wrist, fingers parallel to the ground. It was a sign, that only his sometimes-partner would understand. Turning away from the ring of hobos, he limped after the younger. 

“You don’t even know where my place is, maybe I should lead?” Cross suggested, his leg aching as he matched Wisely’s stride. He felt bad, surprisingly. Here he was trying to scare a kid who has nothing. But if the kid wanted to run the streets, he had to learn. Learn or end up in a body bag. Cross had no desire to see Wisely in a body bag. 

It wasn’t as if he meant to find him. Just that he’d turned up at the worst possible moment. “Lighten up, you’re going to get mugged if you stomp around like that.” The red-head barked, whacking his cane against a cart, startling a boy hiding behind it. 

Wisely was conscious of the fact that this man was still a criminal, but really, somehow, and he feared the thought, he couldn’t care less whether he could die or not. He wasn’t afraid of dying, he was afraid of the thought that he didn’t care about losing his life.  

   That wasn’t normal, right? 

And then what Cross said about the hobos, it suddenly made Wisely want to escape everything once again. That was his usual solution whenever a situation became too much for him. He escaped and searched for a place where he could find comfort. Normally, the hobos were enough company since they didn’t really bother and never asked anything personal about Wisely. However, this time, the thought: ‘See? Everyone always gives up on me. Nothing new’, entered his mind and filled his chest with a dull pain, a familiar one he experienced many times before. 

He stood up then and cast one of the hobos he got especially familiar with a glance before he started to walk away. “Fine then.” he muttered, vaguely aware of Cross knowing this acquaintance. “I’ll go to your place.” He wasn’t going to bother stop walking. He did walk slower to wait for Cross to catch up while keeping his gaze locked on the ground as he bit the inside of his cheek to dull the pain in his chest. 

[actual-cross]

The attention shift was noticed, but really, Cross was too wasted to care. Partially cause he was too wasted to consider why Nea had looked away. Instead, Cross snorted, leaning against the wall as the door slammed beside him. 

“How would you know, you have no virtues.” Cross watched his roommate set the bags down, his immediate impulse to cling to the other gone. Sure, he still wanted to cling, but now there were... Other reasons to cling...

       Amber eyes shifted away from the injury as soon as they caught sight of it,        determined not to make it his business. As curious as he might have been,        Nea made it a point not to involve himself too deeply with those he shared        a living space with. Instead, he simply kicked the door closed, crossing the        short space to set his bags down on the counter.

          “ Patience is a virtue, you know. “