a study in horse boys, walking bloodbanks & gilded cages of endless possibility.
rules. bio. stats. muse. face. memes. wc. headcanons. open starters. tunes. verses.
lawyer freek: @pleadsfifth
AnasAbdin
styofa doing anything
KIROKAZE
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

PR's Tumblrdome
trying on a metaphor

titsay

JBB: An Artblog!
RMH
noise dept.
Today's Document
i don't do bad sauce passes
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Keni

oozey mess
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Sweet Seals For You, Always

Andulka
Misplaced Lens Cap

Product Placement

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@bloodrodeo
a study in horse boys, walking bloodbanks & gilded cages of endless possibility.
rules. bio. stats. muse. face. memes. wc. headcanons. open starters. tunes. verses.
lawyer freek: @pleadsfifth
Poem by Denis Johnson
Cassell keeps on staring because he has an excuse now. His eyes are heavy and his chests gone all warm. He doesn't care if Trent calls him out he's got an answer for everything locked and loaded. Now he's just got to hope he can remember it if he needs to. "Everyone." Cas repeats back but he sort of already forgets what they're talking about. Zodiac signs and crying he thinks. "Surprised you know it's a bull." He admits honestly but there's pleasure glinting in his gaze that he does. Cas had also thought it was prophetic too and he carries it close to his chest. Trent's sucky boy face makes Cas want to coo at him. Something high pitched and sweet he'd use on a dog or one of his teammates babies. "Did we say that? I don't remember that part. Can we go lay down at least?"
"I know things." He says, with an uncharacteristically smug smile on his mouth. Half the bulls in the pens over the years wear named Taurus. And it was the name of maybe one of the greatest Monster Trucks in history, and it wasn't why he got his Silverado but...the driver, Jack-something, didn't believe in zodiac signs. "You did." He insists, but he's not quite sure either. Trent hauls himself up from the couch, and his limbs feel a little heavy, like he's getting out of a pool with all his clothes on. He pulls Cas up without really thinking, because thinks that Cas's limbs might also feel heavy, though he's not sure because maybe Cas smokes more. Then he pads back into his apartment, intentionally to his own room, because he's scared to see if the guest room bed even has sheets on it, and if it doesn't he doesn't want to deal with it right now. Just needs a few minutes, he thinks sprawls across the mattress.
oh, shit. part of jay was hoping that they hadn't met before, if only because his best guess is now that this guy was a hook-up from who knows how long ago — more importantly, who knows how drunk ago. or high, or even more ( upsettingly ) likely, both. he comes to this conclusion primarily based on how attracted he is to him, and trent won't know it from his expression, but whatever he's doing is working. the longer he looks at him, the more blips of memories; sights of that face, ghost sensations of those lips on him. "...i think we hooked up," he says abruptly, eyebrows shot up, head tilting the other way now. "i know your face. fuckin' gorgeous. name... not so much. remind me?"
A smile wobbles on his mouth, a slow nod to pair. "Yeah." Trent's not trying to feel any sort of way about it, but he's sober and raw-dogging an interaction he's usually on the other end of. He inhales a heaping breath, resets. "You don't gotta do that. Flatter me." Trent insists. "Trent." He supplies, before dapping him up because what else is he going to do with a guy who forgot they had sex? Try and sleep with him again? Well, probably. Because now he feels like he's got something to prove. "So how you been Jay?" Says their name just so he knows that he knows.
"'course i look cute in it. i look cute in anything." Splenda boasts in a tone that suggests he knows he's right. He pauses, just long enough to get his shirt up over his head and then discard it to the side. He glances back over his shoulder again, smile wide. "you gonna bend me over, baby? just push my skirt up enough to get your dick in me?"
He doesn't sound opposed to this at all, actually. "you're so desperate. that's what's cute."
"Yeah? I don't believe it. We're gon' have to see each other again so you can prove it to me." He knows what this is; a fling, a one-night stand — but he's always trying to make it not. Pre-nut clarity or something, he's backwards about it all. Eyes cling to his back, thinks about coming there. Her question make him groan. And yeah, he is desperate. Lifts his hips to under the button of his jeans while simultaneously reaching into his back pocket for a condom. Rips the foil with his teeth. "Is this okay?" He asks, just to make sure.
Angel's smile only grows at Trent's decision. She lives to please, above all else, and this too, for her, would be a pleasure. She leans forward, presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Trent's lips, and then pulls away again. "i think you'll enjoy the sight, darling."
She shifts then, down off the couch and onto her knees. She only pauses a moment to pull her hair back into a quick and messy bun, watching Trent as she does. A moment later, her hands rest on his inner thighs, spreading his legs apart. She leans in, laying her cheek on his thigh, and softly presses her face against his cock, still in his jeans, and gives a delighted little laugh.
"you are excited."
A lax, blissed-out smile pulls out his mouth, rosy and wet like he'd just devoured a punnet of overripe strawberries. Feels like summer, hot and sticky, and his mind can't form the thoughts to ponder how he got this lucky. "You look beautiful." He says. It's something Trent tells her often, because she's the type of friend that it's impossible not to say it to.
His legs kick open, and his hips grind down into the couch cushions some, because he wasn't lying when he'd said it's been a while. His cheeks have a warm, a couple drinks in, flush to them, her laugh lilting. He sits up for a moment, just to reach for her, hand cradling the nape of her neck, pushing her face up against the hard outline of his dick. "You like that?" Trent asks. The friction of her face up against his jeans isn't unpleasant, at least not yet. He sort of likes it, makes it last longer. He wants her like this as long as possible.
They're going to die like this and Levi has never felt more certain of that then he has now that they've kissed. Sealed the deal. He's almost giddy with the realization and of what he's not even certain. There's something hot coiling in his guts, stomach rolling as he sits in the passenger seat and wonders where they'll end up. How long they'll last. If he'll have to find tricks in every city to make them money. He would. He'd do anything for Trent. Anything to make everything between them okay again. Like that Fourth of July party and Trent's damp, cold skin pressed against his own. Or the club where he promised to take Trent to Miami next time. It never happened.
No one can get in he realizes as he glances out the window. It's just them in their bubble hidden from the world. Trent's the other half of his soul. Ripped apart and left to wander until they found each other. He doesn't know if Trent is happy but his words fill the silence. Just him and the engine and the cars passing with people who have no idea he's hurt Trent. Would Trent ever leave him if he could? Would he dump Levi on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere? The thought makes him shift in his seat, squeeze his thighs together, he's so fucked in the head he tries to focus on the rattle of the teeth.
"Do you want to? You pick." Levi says it as if he's this sweet boyfriend offering just the best for his girlfriend. A treat for the two of them. "You wanna get drunk and drown in the hot tub." Levi sighs softly. He wants to drink and drown in the hot tub. It would serve him right for the hotel staff to find his body floating in the morning. "I have a few cards." Levi reaches his hand into the cupholder and pulls out one of the teeth. Turns it over in his fingers before he glances at Trent. "You'd swallow this if I told you to right?"
"Okay." He says excitedly, a pursed-lip grin trying to hide the fact of being spoiled as humbly as possible. They'll drive for a couple of hours, put a bit of distance between them and this city — it's not that they're running away, but he doesn't want the possibility of them going back, not easily anyways. A new state will be a blank, fresh, slate. They'll be able to do anything they want to do. Trent, now that he's back with Levi, will be able to think about what he wants to do. His mind had been foggy in the time they'd been apart, and he's glad to be able to think right again.
"Gonna get wasted." He agrees, as if that's not what he's been doing anyways. Trent decidedly does not want to drown in the hot tub. In the same thought he wonders if Levi would hold his head down when he starts to flail like a fish. Then he thinks absurdly, that Levi is the only person he could kill. That no one else has or ever will matter enough to do something so terrible to, except Levi. It makes him sick. Still loves him wrongly, but can't figure out what to do about it.
"We'll wear the robes, and order room service, and maybe kiss some more." He lists off in a sing-song voice, a version that doesn't feel like them now but once was, and if he pretends hard enough it will be. He wants it to be. They should pay cash. Trent doesn't have any. Levi's much better with his money than Trent is, probably because Levi doesn't spend his own. He glances at the tooth, the way it glints under the reach of white headlights cast from cars cruising down the opposite side of the freeway. He doesn't realize he's not smiling anymore, a small furrow in his brow, confused. "Maybe. Only if you wanted me to." It makes more sense to do something because Levi wants him to, rather than doing something just because he tells him to.
Cas doesn't know if he should still be sat here but the press of Trent's knee against his own urges him to stay. He doesn't know what it means and he's not going to ask. They're high and that's it. It's the excuse he'll cling onto when his mind wanders when he's in Trent's guest room later. Trent turns away and Cassell's brows knit together in a brief flash of irritation before he smooths his features back over into neutrality. "It's okay I didn't think you'd know that." Cas waves off the thought that'd be anything but pleasant and sweet about the other not knowing. He hadn't ever thought about Trent being into the stars and shit so he's not exactly surprised. Something swells warm in his belly thinking about his cry baby friend. "Yeah. Everyone knows that." Cas grins, "Taurus." He doesn't say anything else. "I'm feelin' tired Trent. You gunna put me to bed?"
His head lulls toward him, limp as a well-loved ragdoll, peering up at him, trying to determine whether he means what he says — even though he's not saying anything meaningful at all so it's a meaningless endeavour to begin with. And his head fills thick thinking about it too hard. Is it okay? This is the weird. He doesn't feel completely like himself right now. "Everyone? " He drawls, because that's not true. Babies, and animals and probably a few of his teammates don't know either. His mouth parts a little, cheeks getting full and chipmunk-like. "Really?" He scrambles up the couch a bit, to sit up straight, looks at him like he's about to say the most important thing in the world. "A bull that plays for the Bulls." There's no punchline, that's it. He just thinks that probably means something. Trent likes bulls, their proximity to the rodeos, to horses. His expression drops. "You ain't tired. I thought we were gon' stay up."
trent a little bit........
YOU CAN STAY WITH ME AND JUST PRETEND IM NOT THERE! YOU CAN BE FREE AND STILL COME HOME! YOU CAN CHANGE AND STILL CHOOSE ME! YOU CAN BE FREE, YOU CAN BE FREE, JUST COME HOME PLEASE!
Cassell just blinks fondly as he watches the other not understand what he's saying at all. That tracks. His laughter spills out but he doesn't further explain what he meant. He figures that Trent's already forgotten what he said anyway. "Guess we're opposite sides of the spectrum." Cause Cas has no problem making shit up if he wants something. He doesn't think that Trent wants anything from him beyond this and he's not going to push further. He would rather spiral into their birth charts and figure out what's going on between them. "Still made of the same stuff no matter how much distance you wanna put between us." He huffs out feeling a little mushy himself. "You'll be okay crybaby." Cassell murmurs as he watches Trent light up again and knows if anyone's going to be crying it'll be Trent. "You doing this to yourself. No sense." Cas reaches for the pipe and gently takes it from Trent before setting it down on the table. "You must be a water moon. Probably cancer. Big ass cry baby."
He nods, agreeing although his brows twitch together with slight concern. Being opposite doesn't sound good, it sounds so far apart. Out of reach. Like even though they're sat together on this couch, if he held his arm out, his fingertips would always remain an inch away from their face. Trent shifts a little, just to grind his knee against Cas's knee, in a jerky, forceful way to make sure that he, is in fact, within reach. Soothed by it, he lets himself turns away from him. Kick his legs up onto the coffee table, sink into the couch like he was steamrolled onto it, spine curving to the contours of the cushion. The stars are out but they're hard to see in the city. "I know you're gonna be an ass about it, but I didn't know everyone was actually made of stardust. I thought that jus' somethin' people said." He stares at the pipe on the table. Trent doesn't like sitting still, it makes him itchy. "Yeah, probably. I do cry a lot. What are you?"
open to: all ! plot: we were childhood best friends until that one fight that ruined everything between us .
zaire almost turns back around the second he spots them across room. he should've known better by now. even then, their social circle was small and there was always the opportunity they'd cross paths sooner. he shoves his hand into his pockets, stopping a few feet away from them. "well," he laughs humorlessly. "i always imagined what'd it be like if we ran into each other again. and weirdly, none of those versions involved yelling."
Time stands still in a bad way — all the air sucked out of the room, stood paralyzed in place as his friend turns to white noise. He doesn't take his eyes off him, although he can't quite process that Zaire is coming closer, until he's stood right in front of him. Trent nods, blinking himself back to life, but he still can't believe his eyes. He doesn't really know what to say. The corners of his mouth tweak with a hint of a smile. "Means you're all grown up." He wishes he could say the same, but he's never gotten over anything in his life. Trent looks at his friend — for what, help? But his friend just turns back to the bar, hailing down the bartender for another drink. "Sorry, I'm just — you look real different. Well, not so different that I ain't recognize you, jus' ... Different."
"No, I just meant the hole." Cas laughs as he gets the words out like it was hard. As if he wasn't dying to say it. "No one on the other side." He watches Trent and his eyes immediately feel scratchy as he tries to blink away the feeling. He shifts on the couch trying not to picture anything that Trent might get up to. He's not surprised that Trent doesn't know when he was born. Cassell doesn't think most guys know and the only way he's ever found it is by asking their mamas. And when he finds out their birth chart alignments everything makes sense and falls into place. He is not asking if he's a Leo because Cassell already knows that of course. He's one too but they're so different he knows their charts must be total opposites. "We're the same." Cassell lets him know. He is high maintenance which Trent would know if he knew anything about Leo's or himself. Amusement settles in his warm gaze as he shakes his head watching Trent wave away the smoke. They are pressed close and turned towards each other. Where else was he expecting it to go? He's funny that way. "You feelin' good? Look like it."
"Oh." He scrunches up his face because why would he be attracted to a hole — the joke goes over his head completely, but he stays tight-lipped to keep from saying anything else that could be damning to his dignity. Trent looks at him, gaze a little heavy-lidded, face feeling a bit mushy, like his skin might be made of soft clay and not skin. He's observing, trying to find their likeness; the sameness. A laugh sputters out of him. "We're not the same. We're so different." He insists. Cas's lips are pinker, shoulders more delicate than his own — skin softer, probably, but he wouldn't know. His toes curl. His body feels like it's lagging a little bit and he has to swallow down a yawn that wants to escape. "Yeah, but I don't like it when my eyes feel like they've been cryin'." Trent lights up again, not knowing anything about pacing himself, thinks briefly about basketball, the clock running down. Thinks of how Cas had looked on the court, efficient, a little brutal. He looks much softer now. How would the stars explain that? "We must have different moon signs." He says, to try and impress him. Though he can't remember what his is.
open to : m / nb plot : maybe we're two ranch hands who are a little more than coworkers … or maybe we're just two pals who found each other in this small town … 🚬 either way they're spending the afternoon together wow !
afternoons spent like this are seldom for them — lounging by the lake in the summer heat rather than working the day away. lean legs are pulled up to his chest, arms crossed over them as his cheek rests upon them. at this angle, blue hues watch quietly as droplets of water occasionally drip from the tips of their hair and down the side of their neck. though when his gaze begins to drift down the curve of their glistening back, the heat that creeps on the back of his neck snaps him out of it and he looks down at the tupperware of sliced fruit between them instead. “ bet ya didn't know i can do palm readings. ” casey hums over a slice of plum, sparing a glance at them, a small, coy smile forming on his lips. “ noleen, she's real into all that psychic and astrology stuff so i'd say i picked up a thing or two. “ will pop another slice into his mouth before wiping his fingertips on the hem of his damp boxers. ” care for some enlightenment ? ” extends his hand for them to place theirs in, an expectant quirk of his eyebrow.
Trent's back for the summer, and pop's got a new ranch hand — supposes it makes sense, because he's getting older, but he never imagines pop's needing help with anything. Surely didn't need any help from Trent, when he was young, or even now, but he imposes it every summer anyways and he's glad to have someone to spend it with. Casey's a good sort, but most people who end up in this small, sleepy town are. There's a shared familiarity he can't find in anyone that comes from anywhere else. He's contemplating getting back in the water, the dip he'd taken previously evaporating at lightning speed, only to be replaced by pearling beads of sweat that trickle down his spine. He looks over, brow raised, slightly dubious. Not that Casey can, just about whether it means anything. "Yeah?" He'll bite, because he loves being told things about himself. Wants Casey to know him like that. He shuffles closer, and sits legs crossed opposite him, knees touching. "With your sticky ass fingers too." He quips, but still presents his palm face-up, gaze bright with anticipation. "Imma cross-reference with Noleen so I'll know if you're bullshittin'."
"You think a hole in the wall is hot." Cassell murmurs as he watches Trent's hands. "Likely story." He rolls his eyes at the old classic someone must have bought this shit for me line. Never believable. Cas can't remember the last time he smoked out of a pipe. College? Pipes feel like something to use when you're alone but of course here comes Trent trying to share it with him. Cassell does not make a habit of talking out of turn or talking too much. He's almost meticulous in answering questions or sharing his thoughts. Sometimes he thinks the best thing to say is nothing at all. Likes to let silence hang heavy. "What time were you born Trent?" Cas asks instead because he'd been on the same chapter of Stop Letting Everything Affect You on the plane last night. He'd just settled of mindful breathing which was interrupted by turbulence which had him begging the universe for one more chance. He'll be better and all that shit he swears. His gaze lifts just enough as Trent extends the pipe and lighter to him. Cas takes them but not before bitching, "you ain't even gunna light it for me. Host eh?" He can't help but laugh as wraps his lips around the pipe and sparking the lighter. He closes his eyes so he can focus on the inhale trying to expand his lungs until they're exploding. He blows the smoke slowly into the others face before balancing the pipe and lighter on Trent's knees laughing already.
"Depends who's on the other side." He quips back, brows jumping up his forehead: an expression of pure delight. Though Trent doesn't get freaky like that 'cos he's scared of getting his dick chomped straight off. Cas ignores him completely. It confuses him because Cas doesn't seem like a spacey person. He's practically the most locked-in guy Trent knows. Which means he's ignoring him on purpose. It makes him feel special anyways. "I dunno." Trent admits. Pops never offered up that information. He celebrated birthdays but knows nothing about the day he was born: the weather or the time, if the birth was difficult or whether it was love at first sight when his ma held him for the first time. "I'm a Leo though if that's what you're askin'. What are you? Are we compatible?" Trent doesn't really believe, unless they are compatible, then he really believes. "High maintenance." He comments, though sits patiently, content to watch him light up — a little awestruck and a feeling like he's watching something he's not supposed to. A kid in a R-rated movie. Gaze dragging from closed eyes to closed lips. Then it's over and Trent's swatting smoke out of his face and laughing too. He plucks it from his knee, copies what Cas did: deep inhale, smooth exhale, though he's trying to fight a sputtering cough. He clears his throat a little on the tail end. He feels it immediately, how everything's a little slower. Like they really do have all the time in the world.
"Yeah and get to it." Cas prompts with a wide grin. If anyone's going to send mix signals it'll be him and he'll want everyone to figure out what he means. Can't they read his mind? He's thinking it real hard. He slips out onto the balcony and wonders why he's here when he needs to be on a plane tomorrow morning back home. One that he'll complain about the entire time and piss off the guys. He tries not to think about it too much as he makes himself comfortable on the others couch. He pulls out his phone to see what everyone's up to and pointedly ignores the messages in the group chat. That's not his business right now. He could be asleep for all they know tucked away in his hotel room being good. He scrolls through Instagram mindlessly not taking anything in because he's imagining Trent fumbling through his own place like a big cat. Cassell hasn't even looked up from his phone before Trent's irritating him. He puts his phone back into his pocket before he blinks at the lighter. "Lucky you got that face cause you ask the dumbest shit and you're not even high." He can't even help the way he pouts at how stupid the question was but he reaches out and grabs a handful of Trent's shirt to pull him down on the couch next to him.
"It's called makin' conversation." Trent fumbles onto the couch, scooching this way and that until he's sat criss-cross apple sauce, facing Cas. "I think she's hot. Not that I chose it or nothin', think someone must'a given it to me." He inspects the lighter, trying to conjure up memories or whether he might have gotten it, but comes up empty, so he sets it on the inside of his knee, which is his makeshift table. It's been a while since Trent's done this, so he has to concentrate pretty hard, making sure nothing falls, grinding up the weed, tapping it into the pipe. He feels pretty amateur at it, which is weird because pretty much all his friends smoke. He supposes he's just more acquainted to the smell than the actual smoking of it. "You can tell me about the books you're reading. Just 'cos I don't read, don't mean I ain't interested." And he likes talking about books with people who care about books, some of them are pretty crazy. Like the one about the guy who turned into a cockroach and had to go to work and everyone hated him. He offers the pipe and the lighter to Cas. Obviously, he could only find one. "Since you're my guest. After you."
a low hum left him as he listened, wrench turning lazily between his fingers while trent talked. he didn't interrupt or offer one of those fake damn, that's crazy responses people threw out when they weren't really listening. instead, he let a few seconds pass after the story's over, eyes dropping back to the engine. "well." his mouth twitched slightly. "first mistake was tellin' somebody who warned you about the problem in the first place." the amusement in his voice took some of the sting out of it. "ain't a person alive who can resist an i told you so in that situation." another turn of the wrench. metal clinked softly somewhere beneath the hood. "second mistake was thinkin' gettin' chewed out means y'all ain't good." he shrugged one shoulder. "sounds t'me like she was annoyed 'cause she was right, not 'cause your truck broke down." growing up around small towns, horses, and families who expressed concern by giving each other grief had taught him THAT much. "if she didn't care at all, she'd probably just say 'that sucks' and hang up." that earned a quiet chuckle from him before he glanced over. "though for what it's worth, i probably would've kept the part about tryin' to meet up with your ex to myself. folks tend to hear my truck died a lot different than they hear my truck died on the way to see you. makes it sound like they're part of the problem." he wiped his hands on a rag and nodded toward the waiting area. "go grab a coffee or somethin'. i'll see what kinda miracle i can work."
Trent hangs off his every word like his mechanic's some messiah that's come down from the heavens above to put in his two cents that Trent will treat like gold. He nods, and an instinctive half-smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. "I ain't a good liar. Maybe I gotta start. Figured it would be like, I told you so and I'd be like, You're right I shoud always listen to you and then..." He trails off because the stranger doesn't need the play-by-play and he's just about out of breath that the oxygen from the inhale gives him enough common sense to spare the other from that. But it would be he'd come over and do anything she says and, ideally, they'd both be naked.
He perks up, dog to the scrape of good news — close to what he wants to hear. Really, it might be a ruse. Him and his ex been fucking around for so long he feels as though he's intimately memorized each branch of possibility. Trent's unsure why none of them ever lead to them staying together for good, but it upsets him to think about it too long, so he doesn't. "So, I still go see her, right? Or no? She said, I don't even wanna see your ass anymore. But that's like, she does, right?"
He nods slow, noting it mentally. "Maybe it's an omen..." Which isn't what he was trying to say at all, but of course that's what Trent took from it. It doesn't even matter if it is, things like that never stop him. Nothing ever stops him. "Oh, right." He remembers, glancing at his pitiful, beautiful dying truck. "You want anything?"