bostonblues-archive

[bostonblues-archive]

this blog is now an archive, and oscar will be held on this new blog in the link!! follow for angsty mob sobstories, babes.

[bostonblues-archive]

this blog is now an archive, and oscar will be held on this new blog in the link!! follow for angsty mob sobstories, babes.

[bostonblues-archive]

this blog is now an archive, and oscar will be held on this new blog in the link!! follow for angsty mob sobstories, babes.

[bostonblues-archive]

this blog is now an archive, and oscar will be held on this new blog in the link!! follow for angsty mob sobstories, babes.

[bostonblues-archive]

this blog is now an archive, and oscar will be held on this new blog in the link!! follow for angsty mob sobstories, babes.

[bostonblues-archive]

WOW HEY GUESS WHO FINALLY REMEMBERED THEIR LOGIN.

in case you guys haven't noticed, this blog is officially on hiatus. the muse for oscar only pops up every now and then, and i'll only be coming onto this blog if i'm poked. same goes for his bro joseph. 

for now, you can catch me on my newest character, kalti.

[bostonblues-archive]

❝Life is not a series of pathetic, meaningless actions. Some of them are so far from pathetic, so far from meaningless as to be beyond reason, maybe beyond forgiveness.❞

[bostonblues-archive]

actually making a joseph blog. may be up tonight.

[bostonblues-archive]

The saddest word in English: Stay.

6-Word Story #49 (via x50)

[bostonblues-archive]

Hm. I like it.

{ he leans on the ledge of the rooftop, thickly-rimmed glasses perching on the bridge of his nose. }

bostonblues said: I’ll say.

I don’t think enough people appreciate it.

[bostonblues-archive]

{ he feels like a deer trapped in the headlights of a hunter, with all of their weapons pointed right at his head. bows cocked, guns loaded, knives drawn.

the look on her face. the horror in her features and the despair in her eyes—the way his name falls from her lips. he wants to curl up and hide because wow, he must look like a complete and total wreck.

his hair is sticking up in clumps when he removes the wrinkled beanie from his head and it drops to the floor with a muffled thump. he wipes at his mouth, glasses crooked as they sit atop the bridge of his nose, with one of the lenses cracked. the story behind that one is grim—a memory that leaves oscar cringing.

arms pinned back by two henchman, a rugged thug wails away at him—aiming jabs to his ribs and his gut and landing a blow right across his face. cheek blooming a violent red, oscar spits blood at the ground and by some miracle, manages to outrun the three when he squirms from their grasp, and just barely collects his shattered glasses as he flees.

he’s not ready to see anyone. but ivy’s here, and he doesn’t think that he’s got an option in telling her to leave. }

…Ivy—

{ oh, how this pains him. his voice is hoarse and dry, her name caught in his throat. he stands at the doorway, frozen in his tracks. }

I’m sorry.

[ she wants to think she hasn’t been there for very long.

except, that would make her a liar, and she isn’t quite fond of people who don’t speak the truth. in fact, she’s been there for hours upon hours, waiting and waiting for a sign of him. three books she’s wanted have come out in the past few weeks, and every time she’s gone over to the bookshop, he isn’t there.

it’s frightening, like there’s a void in her life that appeared ever so suddenly. out of the blue, tearing at the skin of her chest in violent swipes. ]

[ she sits atop his bed, knees up to her chest, almost as if sitting around would help the situation— and vaguely, she knows she’s an idiot for it. mere seconds away from making her way up and out of the room, she hears the front door unlock; a deafening click in the silent air.

ivy’s up in an instant, making her way out the room, smile gracing her features— though it doesn’t last long, the sight of preciously smooth skin marred with violet and ruby. there are flashbacks, a sudden tightening of her throat, and she can’t breathe. ]

—O-Oscar…? [ it’s choked, whispered, and she wants to run. but she can’t, because it’s him. the lovely boy. ]

[bostonblues-archive]

Whatever it is you are struggling to remember, it is not poised on the tip of your tongue, not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen. It has floated away down a dark mythological river whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall, well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle. No wonder you rise in the middle of the night to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war. No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.

Billy Collins, “Forgetfulness” (via larmoyante)

[bostonblues-archive]

{ — oh. emily. of course. he should've known she'd be here; he should've known that he couldn't just leave without anyone noticing.

it used to be like that, though. he could be gone for weeks on end and no one would even notice. oscar used to be invisible, just another face in the crowd--but emily? she changed that. and he still doesn't know how he feels about it.

even still, oscar lets her wrap her arms around him, like how he let her into his heart. he clutches onto her like she's a life-raft keeping him above water, burying himself into the crook of her neck as he leans down. }

Emily--

{ it's choked out; hoarse. he just clings to her. he's been alone for so long. he doesn't know what to do. }

[ there’s a moment of shock as Em exits his bedroom. she hasn’t been there for long, she just — he’s been gone so long. she picked up the spare key and did her own research.

at least he’s alive. ]

You motherfucker.

[ her hands are bandaged and burnt to the nines, arms scratched up from nearly getting trampled. everything was so dangerous now. so suffocating.

she nearly leaps on him, arms wrapping around him swiftly. ]

[bostonblues-archive]

I AM HERE I AM HERE I AM HERE.

and working on a blog for oscar's brother, joseph.

[bostonblues-archive]

          { he's been in hiding.

     fought off a bunch of thugs a few weeks back, oscar's been hopping apartment complexes to try and get the mafia off of his trail. so far, it's worked. thank god, it's worked.

          there's a bruise that's halfway healed along his cheekbone, and a lip that's been violently cut open. he's sore but he's okay, and he's back. heading back to work soon at the bookstore, but fired from his job at the grocery. once again, he's looking for another place to work. not to mention all the school work he has to catch up on. that's gonna be a real bitch.

     oscar crawls back into his apartment--his usual one--and tosses the keys into a bowl on the counter. he's exhausted. he's stressed. he's not in the mood. }

[bostonblues-archive]

(by chopchops)

[bostonblues-archive]

     { he has been looking pretty frail lately, hasn't he? }

Uh--okay?

bostonblues started following you

"I think you need a sandwich, mate. You’re pretty skinny."