crypticelysian-blog - Tumblr blog

[crypticelysian-blog]

          [TEXT]: Good. You got this, Stranger. You can figure out this complex necessity that                          somehow defies the laws of physics.

               &;---> SEND

          [TEXT]: Thank you, Stranger. You’re a pal.

               &;---> SEND

 Mereck turned his body so he was on his side, his eyes fixated on his closed door as someone moved outside in the hallway. He held his breath, though after a moment he realized that was foolish. If someone wanted to bother him, it was best they heard his deep and steady breathing so they would assume he was asleep.

But it was too late. There was a knock and Mereck’s stomach twisted. He ignored it, his eyes focusing again on STRANGER’S words as another text came through. 

           [TEXT]: That’d be brilliant. No more shitty mothers breathing down our necks. We could                         live somewhere random. Greece or Germany or the Czech Republic. 

               &;---> SEND

Another knock, this one louder, had Mereck’s hand jerking, startled. He exhaled a deep, shaky breath.

         [TEXT]: Someone is knocking at my door. Do I ignore it? I’m going to try. Fuck.

            &;---> SEND

         [TEXT]: I know I should leave. I will soon. When I have money and resources.

            &;---> SEND

         [TEXT]: Maybe it’s weird, but I fucking hate your ex, Stranger. Passionately. He makes my                       skin crawl even just being mentioned....

            &;---> SEND

        [TEXT]: I’m sorry. You’re right though. Don’t let her go even if she wants to. Don’t let her                     ruin it for you. I take it she isn’t the most supportive about your art?

            &;---> SEND

There was another knock on his door and Mereck released a quiet groan of frustration. LEAVE ME ALONE.

        [TEXT]: Fuck. They knocked again. BRB, hopefully.

mereck & jonathan ₪ alone

He closed his eyes as he leaned back against the bed, finding it comforting after the past few days, a different kind of exhaustion filling him than normal. It felt deeper, as if it stemmed from the core of who he was rather than from physical activity. He needed time to recuperate, to do his art and focus on his on mind, to feel the pleasant numb buzzing that surrounded him and made him feel content after he’d finished a larger piece. Things had been too busy, too frequent, people continuously in his way and in his face, zapping him of his desire to leave his room. Oddly, speaking to stranger had the opposite affect that speaking to other’s often had. It made him feel more energized, as though he was a part of something positive.

As his phone buzzed, he couldn’t help the smile that curled his lips at the thought of the stranger still up messaging him. It felt good that there was someone there that actually wanted to spend time with him.

TEXT: I’ll make sure I get right on that for you. I would hate for you to feel disappointed and unloved because I didn’t.

~> S E N D

TEXT: No problem, poet. You know I would do anything to protect your honor if it was threatened.

~> S E N D

He froze as he heard his mother’s footsteps as she made her way to her bedroom, hoping that she wouldn’t stop in to say goodnight. Things had been tense between them lately, and he didn’t need to expend any more energy on her that night. He knew if she engaged him, he might blow, and that would be terrible for both of them. Holding his breath, he cringed as he heard a smack against the door, the words “go to sleep” permeating the air, managing to make their way through the thick wood. How she knew he was still awake, he’d never know. He wasn’t sure if she even really knew. Sighing, he ignored her, hearing her steps as they walked away, grateful when the door shut behind her.

TEXT: You should move out and come closer to me, meet me half way. We can both escape our mother’s together and find a place where no one will nudge us for a change.

~> S E N D

TEXT: In all reality, you should leave.

~> S E N D

TEXT: He hasn’t approached me, but he’s been lingering. It’s rather uncomfortable, to say the least. I’ve been ignoring him.

~> S E N D

TEXT: She’s only being this way because we got into a fight. She’s refusing to come to the gallery opening. Probably for the best, she would only tear it down.

~> S E N D

TEXT: I’ll be sure to send many pictures. What is going on with you? Anything other than playing the perfect son?

~> S E N D

[crypticelysian-blog]

[crypticelysian-blog]

Thumbs moved over the slick, glossy surface of his phone after his finger hit the SEND key, his eyes closing from exhaustion if only to avoid the bright glare of his phone’s screen in his pitch-dark bedroom. 

Outside his room the floor creaked as someone made their way to their room; whether it was a guest or not he could not tell. He hoped that his locked door would deter anyone from disturbing him; he had said he was sick, after all.

His phone buzzed in his hand and Mereck’s eyes peeled open, reading over the words on the screen. He waited, watching as STRANGER typed, the three little dots in flashing beneath his previous message. Another came through and Mereck read quickly, a small smile on his face.

        [TEXT]: Well, you French ought to start working on that. I reckon it’d be handy.

           &;---> SEND

        [TEXT]: No need to beat anyone up. I THINK I can handle it. But we’ll see. Thanks, though,                     Stranger.

          &;---> SEND

As weird as it was, STRANGER’S reassurance and vocalizations that he was willing to beat someone up for him made him feel better. There was something about the other that was comforting and he had to remember this, to remember how much better STRANGER made him feel when he was locked away in his bedroom trying to avoid his parents and extended family. If he kept his door locked, he could get away with staying up at night, texting STRANGER if he wanted. He would deal with the repercussions of a lack of sleep if he had to.

         [TEXT]: Gods, I need to move out. I need to get away from HER. From THEM. 

             &;---> SEND

         [TEXT]: Wait. Has your stalker ex been bothering you again? 

            &;---> SEND

        [TEXT]: Because that’s not okay.  I will show up and hunt him down and murder him.                       Tear the jealous bastard limb for limb.

            &;---> SEND

        [TEXT]: Sorry about your mum, though. Mother troubles are the worst in all actuality.

           &;---> SEND

        [TEXT]: I’m glad the gallery is coming along. I must hear all about it. See pictures, too.

           &;---> SEND

mereck & jonathan ₪ alone

As Jonathan waited for the stranger’s reply, he glanced towards his phone as he sketched, his mind distracted now. There was an odd kind of relief that came with knowing that the stranger was on the other side of the line, ready to listen, ready to be there for him to talk to. It was an addiction, this feeling of being understood for a change, and every time it was gone he felt as though he was going through withdrawals. It sucked that he had somehow become dependent on the stranger, on the feeling of him there, just within reach of his fingertips. He’d always been the type to keep from getting too attached, to keep from getting hurt or stuck in a situation he couldn’t retreat from. He’d managed to find himself in those situations far too often for his liking, knowing that despite what his mind might think, his heart still held out hope for the best. He was a dreamer in that way, always trying to find the good, the reason why people and things were worth it.

As his phone vibrated on his bed, he picked it up again, rolling onto his back.

TEXT: We have many special talents, but fucking someone miles away is, sadly, not one of them. Unless we’re referring to fucking someone over, in which case, it’s all dependent on the individual.

~> S E N D

TEXT: I’m not sure I like that answer. Has something happened to make you unhappy? Do I need to travel there so I can surprise attack someone and hit them in the balls for you?

~> S E N D

He hated the idea that the stranger might be upset or need backup and he couldn’t truly be there for him to give it to him. At least, not physically. All he could do was use his words to try and make him feel understood and accepted, the same way the stranger had done for him. But he was no poet, not like the stranger was, and sometimes words failed him, even though he’d studied them so intently to be able to speak as fluently as he did now. He yearned to be anywhere else but where he was so often, but right then he wanted to be able to assist the stranger in ways that would touch his soul, that would move him and make him believe that people came into each other’s lives for a reason. It was silly to think that way, to really believe that he could change the life of the person on the other end of the phone, but in many ways he knew the stranger had already changed his. He’d gotten a taste of freedom from the other boy, and he wanted it to continue on for as long as possible.

TEXT: It’s alright, poet. No need to explain. Things get busy sometimes. I merely find myself thinking of you. I wonder if you’re doing well. I’m shocked to find out that anyone could be worse than your mother, is that really possible? I hope they leave soon. I miss speaking to you.

~> S E N D

TEXT: I’m fine, thank you. Mostly been feeling strange due to spending so much time with people I don’t know and who have no particular interest in me. My mother isn’t very good company and my stalker ex is little more than annoying. The gallery looks incredible. They finished hanging it up, and I am still astounded I am lucky enough to have gotten my work displayed with these other talented individuals. I’m very nervous, but also very excited. The show starts this weekend.

~> S E N D

[crypticelysian-blog]

jonathanpaxton:

There was a certain amount of ANXIETY that occurred after hitting SEND, as he watched the blue bar at the TOP of the screen fill and disappear, sending the message off into the ether. As he worried his bottom lip, waiting for a REPLY, he began to question if he was coming off terribly to the STRANGER. Maybe there had been a reason he STOPPED messaging, and he was being too clingy. To be fair, it HAD been a few days since he’d heard from the other boy, making him think that perhaps taking the initiative wasn’t a TERRIBLE thing to do. After all, he was the one that was missing him. If the stranger didn’t feel the same way, all he had to do was IGNORE him.

Taking out his sketchbook, he tried to DISTRACT himself from the wait, occasionally chewing down on his fingernails – a nervous tick he just couldn’t seem to RID himself of. He sketched some hands and other body parts, ALWAYS finding it rather amusing that his sketchbooks were filled with drawings from REAL LIFE, while his paintings always seemed to be emotional and abstract.

It allowed him to EXPLORE the entire range of what interested him.

Three days had d r a g g e d, despite being BUSY. He’d spent most of his time with his MOTHER and at the GALLERY, doing his best to prepare for opening night the following WEEKEND. His ART outlet had nearly dried up during this S P A N, making it even more difficult for him to adjust to the long silence.

He jumped as the phone BUZZED, his hand scooping up the device to read the messages as they came through.

                  TEXT: That’s rather forward of you, though I can’t manage that from                              France.

              ~> S E N D

                  TEXT: Are you okay?

              ~> S E N D

                  TEXT: Admittedly, I did wonder what had happened to you, poet. Sorry                              to hear that you were bombarded with so many relatives. Are                               they nice at least? In comparison to the rest of your family?

              ~> S E N D

                  TEXT: Glad your job hunt went alright. The party was fairly good. As                              good as it could be, considering the situation. I’m not sure how                              I feel about it, though it couldn’t have gone terrible, as I wasn’t                              removed from the gallery. My mother has been a nightmare                               about it. Not that that is a surprise.

              ~> S E N D

Each responsive buzz created a distinct tingling in the tips of his fingers that Mereck wasn’t sure of what it represented. His silver eyes watched as new messages appeared on his phone in blue bubbles. The familiarity of his words in the manner STRANGER spoke was something he’d almost forgotten he needed to lighten the atmosphere of his day. 

        [TEXT]: I thought the French were real good at managing such impossibilities.

            &;---> SEND

       [TEXT]: Am I okay? I dunno, Stranger.

           &;---> SEND

It was a loaded question that he wasn’t sure he had the answers for. He was, on the surface, just fine. But was he okay? With his extended family there, things had been--- rigid. Too rigid and stiff. He was terrified to sneak out, to use his cell phone in their company, to stay up past nine. His mother yearned for this perfect appearance for her perfect family and Mereck couldn’t not comply with her wishes lest he wish to get himself grounded.

       [TEXT]: I’m sorry for disappearing. My family is less pleasant than mum, if you can buy                     that one. They’re dry and boring and strict and I can’t do ANYTHING with them                     here. I’ve no idea when they’re leaving, either.

          &;---> SEND

      [TEXT]: How are you, though? I’m glad the party went well. What about your gallery? Are                    you nervous? I’m excited for it for you, honestly. 

           &;---> SEND

mereck & jonathan ₪ alone

[crypticelysian-blog]

There wasn’t much he could do.

Mereck, body numb and mind full of depressing contradictions sat straight-backed at the dinner table. Silver eyes stared at a silver fork, its glistening edges catching the bright overheads of the Noirs extravagant dining room. Across Mereck, his uncle, Dimitri, wore a fake grin of politeness as he picked at his meal. Mereck couldn’t eat. He tried to feign sick, but mother simply wasn’t hearing it.

We have guests, she’d said. It will look bad.

On either side of him sat his brother and another uncle. Across them, his parents, his aunt, and one cousin.

It was torture. 

Three days they’d been there. Three days Mereck had to put up with his mother and father hounding him on doing his best and acting just so.  

Needless to say, when dinner was dismissed, Mereck wasted no time in hurrying back to his room, throwing himself down on his bed, and pulling the covers up straight over his head. He’d nearly fallen asleep beneath the dark warmth, forcing his mind to numb from overactive thoughts, when his phone buzzed on his bedside table.

He’d nearly forgotten about the thing, not daring to bring it out in case his mother insisted he hand it over or his cousin got a look at any texts he might receive. Blindly reaching out, his hand grabbed it and pulled it beneath the comforter.

     [TEXT]: Fuck me

        &;---> SEND

       [TEXT]: Job hunt went okay. Got like...four applications in. 

         &;---> SEND

      [TEXT]: But some distant family stopped in for a surprise visit and they’ve been here three                    days. I wish they’d LEAVE.

          &;--->SEND

       [TEXT]: How have you been, Stranger? Sorry I’ve been absent. How was your party?

mereck & jonathan ₪ alone

L O N E L IN E S S stuck to his ribs like HONEY, coating his insides REFUSING to b u d g e. It settled like rocks thrown into a still pond, SINKING deep and LEAVING i n d e n t s in the GRITTY bottom of his soul. The silent PHONE that sat poised beneath his FINGERTIPS left him feeling ALONE, pain s h o o t i n g through his ribs with each inhale. As he pulled up STRANGER’S window, he considered WHETHER or not to m e s s a g e. What if the stranger had finally gotten SICK of him? It was POSSIBLE they didn’t K N O W much about one another, other than what they spoke, and while he felt CONNECTED to the stranger, that didn’t MEAN this would last forever. He hadn’t HEARD from him in some time, and it made him WONDER if he’d imagined their ENTIRE interaction at times. 

While he was A R O U N D people daily with WORK and  with the gallery, as of LATE, it was D I F F E R EN T than when he had gotten to s p e a k with the stranger. None of the P E O P L E he was surrounded with UNDERSTOOD him in the same way that HE had. None of them l i s t e n e d or CARED to the same extent. None of them MADE him feel wanted. It was a S T R A N G E feeling, realizing that. Knowing that no matter how much he TRIED,the feeling he got – the CHEMISTRY he experienced when he spoke to the stranger – was u n m at c h a b l e. 

He hadn’t W A N T E D to get attached. Didn’t WANT to think about when he would next TALK to him, didn’t want to hope that it could LAST. Somehow, it had C R E P T in anyway.

G i v i n g  i n, he began to TYPE.

                        TEXT: Hello, poet. Checking in to make sure your liver                                    is still functioning and your sanity is intact. How                                    did the job hunt go?

               ~> S E N D

@crypticelysian​

[crypticelysian-blog]

@baerrueco

                                 In the Mud

                                                    {STARTER CALL}

          It wasn’t everyday Mereck found himself face down in the mud; though, as fate would have it, he was more often than not realizing that nothing went as plan. Adult-life, or what was legally supposed to be adult life, was impossible to predict.

         He felt like a dog, his clothes soaked to the skin with wet dirt and his face caked with dripping liquid. It wasn’t the thick, gooey-sort of mud, a fact of which he wasn’t sure he was grateful for or not. 

why had he tried to take the shortcut?

       “Not. A. Word.”     

[crypticelysian-blog]

Hey beautiful

hey you are my sexual healing oh yiss

[crypticelysian-blog]

Jonathan: I said no for tonight, yes. I'm forcing myself to attend this party if it is the last thing I do.

Jonathan: Which it might be, if it goes horribly.

Jonathan: You never know. I was merely checking, you didn't wake up that long ago and I know when I have a hangover without four coffees I can hardly function.

Jonathan: Good luck, poet.

Mereck: You'll have fun, Stranger.

Mereck: Don't be a negative Nancy.

Mereck: Thanks, Stranger. I'll talk to you soon.

[crypticelysian-blog]

Jonathan: In an hour. I just picked up my schedule for work and they tried to get me to pick up a shift.

Jonathan: Leaving the house would be ideal. You do not want to run into them.

Jonathan: Are you even dressed?

Mereck: Did you say no?

Mereck: Of course I am dressed! Do you expect me to go into public nude?

Mereck: I guess I'd better jet, then.

[crypticelysian-blog]

Jonathan: What kind of situations, poet?

Jonathan: I can be, it's not one of my better traits.

Jonathan: Probably for the best. I don't know if we're going to be able to work it out. Maybe one day we will find the nerve to merely tell one another.

Mereck: When's your party, Stranger?

Mereck: I still haven't left my house. I should, though. Parents will be home soon.

[crypticelysian-blog]

Jonathan: I suppose we'd better not tell one another what to do then. I would hate to see that argument.

Jonathan: Are you very stubborn then?

Jonathan: Yes.

Jonathan: The A is doubled, poet. Surely you have a guess by now?

Jonathan: Clue nine: my name is 8 letters.

Jonathan: A common first letter? God, that could be anything. That only knocks off vwxyz.

Mereck: Well... certain situations I don't mind being told what to do.

Mereck: Sometimes. Maybe? I'm not sure.

Mereck: WOO!

Mereck: I give up on guessing and also thinking of new clues.

[crypticelysian-blog]

Jonathan: You have no idea, poet. Just you wait. I'll call you Dick when you least expect it.

Jonathan: Oh, I see, yes. I do understand that. I prefer to read for fun as well. I hate when people tell me what to do.

Jonathan: No, there is one other vowel but only one of it.

Jonathan: You've got me, Crayon.

Jonathan: It is not! My clues have been very productive, you just do not wish to guess. I bet you could get it.

Jonathan: So your name is eeck. With two other letters in there in some way. I don't know that I know any name like that.

Jonathan: Clue eight: My name contains both the vowels in crayon but one of them in doubled.

Mereck: Brilliant.

Mereck: I have an issue with being told what to do. Happens too much at home. Can only cope with that so much.

Mereck: So an A and another vowel?

Mereck: I KNEW IT.

Mereck: WHICH ONE IS DOUBLED?

Mereck: Clue nine- the first letter of my name is quite common.

[crypticelysian-blog]

Jonathan: Alright, Dick, you don't know what you're in for.

Jonathan: What do you study, if not the masters of your craft? Supposedly that's what they have you do for art. Not that I would know.

Jonathan: It is A, yes.

Jonathan: So it's a name that has two of the same vowel and ends in CK and four consonants, two of which are CK. Wow.

Jonathan: If I was a holy-roller, I'd be asking God for help right now.

Jonathan: Clue seven for you is that my name ends with an N.

Mereck: Oh god. What have I started?

Mereck: I read for fun. I don't like being told what to read.

Mereck: Is A the only vowel in your name?

Mereck: That;s more than you've given me!

Mereck: You name is Crayon.

Mereck: Clue eight- my name has six letters.

[crypticelysian-blog]

Jonathan: I think I would be alright with that, strangely. I'm a very weird man, aren't I?

Jonathan: Sorry you don't know your satire. I thought you were an English major.

Jonathan: Nope, good try. Go for a vowel.

Jonathan: How is that even possible? What name rhymes with Dick other than Rick and Vick?

Jonathan: Clue Six: My name is biblical.

Mereck: You are weird. But that is what I enjoy about you.

Mereck: I do not know my satire. I am in school for writing, Stranger.

Mereck: Is it A?

Mereck: The last two letters in my name are the same.

Mereck: OMG you are a holy-roller.

Mereck: Clue seven- My name as four consonants.

[crypticelysian-blog]

Jonathan: I knew I would figure it out eventually, Wallace.

Jonathan: Good to know, I would hate for you to have to go through life being called variations of that.

Jonathan: I did say famous, did I not? He's Irish, if that helps you.

Jonathan: Oh great, that's no help whatsoever. I feel like this game is going to be never ending on my side, poet.

Jonathan: My clue five is only one letter in Wallace is the same as my name.

Mereck: If you call me Dick, I'll call you Prick :)

Mereck: Yeah, that doesn't help.

Mereck: Is it the W?

Mereck: Clue six- My name kind of sort of rhymes with Dick, actually... :(

[crypticelysian-blog]

Jonathan: You know what I mean. I enjoy talking to you, is talking to you not your company, even without your presence?

Jonathan: Alright then, genius Wallace, I will just have to call you that forever then.

Jonathan: No, you look at it and you can already see three different names in the way the letters are aligned.

Jonathan: If it wasn't for the double vowels, I'd say Rick, which would end up Dick. Sadly, you have already laid that one to rest.

Jonathan: Clue Four: There is a famous satiric writer with my name.

Mereck: I know what you mean.

Mereck: Good, since it is my name.

Mereck: Rest assured, if my name was Dick, I would have changed it.

Mereck: HOWEVER-- clue five is that two of the letters in the name Dick are also in my name!

Mereck: There are so many satirical writers, Stranger, most of which I have no clue about. This is not fair!