#realboymyass

[not-blue-in-the-blood]

No rest for the wicked

He wasn't going to sleep that way, not with something so hard poking him, taking his rest away. With eyes wide open in the darkness, he tried to just breathe, ignore the ache in his ribs and let it go, but it wasn't working so well. No, it wasn't work at all, Blue had so many things in his mind, a little thing poking him between his ribs, he got everything but sleepiness.

"Hey, Pinocchio..." He called, his voice breaking the silence of the room they shared, but he didn't caught any signal of response from the bunk above his. "Hey, mate? Are you awake?" No, nothing. "Pinocchio?" He, then, resolved to the easiest solution of all, a meet between his foot and Pinocchio's back in the upper bed. "Wake up, pal. I think Fly was playing with your wooden toys earlier, I'm pretty sure I got a knight poking my ribs with his lance right now. Rise up, lad."

[not-blue-in-the-blood]

You're not entitled to forget, not you, of all people. And you should be thankful for having someone to talk some sense into you. (Okay, maybe that could work?) PS: Yes you have.

Hold your pants, I was just trying to make a point about your crude vision of the world, how could I forget how many centuries you have in that arse of yours when you remind me everyday? Besides, you're probably older than me - and I once was that little boy who was always late for everything.

But thank you, indeed.

(Why didn't we think of that before? What do you think? Could this really work? We could put our bloody money to good use finally. We just have to economize a little, don't buy some comic books for a while...)

PS: Ok. Maybe I have. But it's not so bad.

[not-blue-in-the-blood]

'A chance', you say? Friend, there you have a lady kindly asking to lay her head on your lap. Head. On your lap. If it doesn't mean she wants to give you head, oh, you might as well start calling me Bigby Wolf. (Also, sexting is nothing but masturbation with some help for the imagination. Not even close to the real thing. Not that I can ask for much more...) PS: You do have a problem and you know it.

…

Sometimes I forget that you’re not a ten years old boy, until you kindly reminds me that you’re not, thank you. 

(And I don’t know, maybe we could find you some kind of glamour? It shouldn’t be harder than what the people in the 13th floor already do with the normal glamour, right?)

PS: Have not. It’s just coincidence.

[not-blue-in-the-blood]

So, Rose Red? Well, if it isn't a daring move... Well played, my friend. Only not really, because you haven't made any progress at all, have you? And you should. Take the opportunity for those of your fellows who can't. (Yes, I'm talking about myself.)

Now, now, Pinocchio, mate, I haven’t the slightest idea of what you’re talking about here. For now, Miss Rose Red and I are just friends.

But do you really think I have a chance? Because let be honests here, I am… me and she is Rose Red. I’m no Jack nor Prince Charming or whatever, thank Lord in Heaven for that. I’m just a clerk and I like it this way.

(And you got a tumblr! I knew you would like this website! And hey, why don’t you try and use it to find a girlfriend? Who knows? And there’s something called sextexting nowadays.)