#wornflesh

robin was lingering. the transaction was over and this is usually when men made their a quick exit, maybe after doing a cursory thumb through of the cash but unlike those men robin lingered. he didn’t look sheepish even amongst the unfamiliar. in fact, this was the closest the young man has ever come to patient. dark eyes gave a glance around the room, subtly nodding in approval ( as though he was in position to give any ) as he gave himself a moment to soak in grandeur.

                 impatience met patience. maybe you weren’t accustom to people                  lingering after they’ve done your work for you. but then again robin                 wasn’t most people. 

he gestures idly with the wad of money from sliding into his pocket. 

                “ thank you. this is usually were people say thank you. ”                                                            a beat. 

              “ folks say thank you to those who provide a desired service. ” 

to an outsider lucian and robin couldn’t be further apart but robin didn’t see that way. just like anything else in economics, it was supply & demand. robin was the service & lucian had his demands. simple law of markets made them equal. & he was waiting for what he considered part of his dues. 

         “ can’t tell me that a wealthy man like yourself knows nothing of a lil’ politeness? ”

     robin wasn’t sure what compelled him to ask if the first place. idle curiosity, boredom & perhaps the human tendency ( intentionally or not ) to develop a sort familiarity with those you spend considerable amounts of time with. ( robin somehow found himself spending quite a bit of time with lucian, this side hustle becoming more of his main income. though the inquiry itself blurred those professional lines. )  a brief chuckle blew itself from his nose. lucian would never let an opportunity to assert his superiority go by. 

                 “ write what? pretentious poetry? your memoirs? or maybe                    you journal. you seem like the type of nigga to have a diary. ” 

                                        a soft jab at his masculinity. 

robin was around him enough to sense that beneath the lust for chaos & narcissism was a sensitivity or more actually a instability hidden beneath the surface. robin could easily see lucian releasing in frantic writing, hair in disray, mooping in some dimly lit lavish room. lips curled at the though. 

                                                 “ for the city? sure. ” 

                                                   his eyes narrowed. 

                            “ yes when you imply things like that. i just want to-”

 what did he want? he broke eye contact, dark eyes flicked to the floor as the reality of his offer sunk in. was he trying to hang out with lucian? his brows furrow at the thought, still. he shook his head as though the act would physically the shake the thoughts from his mind. he refused to consider his motivations deeply. 

Don’t be sorry, sweetheart. All sorts of questions are acceptable on this blog even if you don’t know something.  When you see the words untagged, it refers to that there are literally no text, captions or anything on the photoshoots.

Most of the time, they are edited through a pdf tool/software that extracts the scans as images (without text, if possible). Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes there can be images that have one big header in the background. Sometimes, there are images with empty text boxes that can be removed, if possible. It just depends on the file and how the pdf tool reads it. 

You can read my other ask if you are curious where do I get the photoshoots from in more depth. 

- Sonia

let’s out of the longest ‘yeah boi ’ ever & rubs my gay hands together. alright let’s do this. // 

what is home?

the city but specifically harlem. he was born & raised here. he’s most comfortable on his home street, where people know his name—-where he’d somebody. 

 what does he do to calm down? 

depends on how stressed but usually some combination of smoking, eating something unhealthy & watching some old television. not that he’d tell anyone about it but robin has a fondness for old sci-fi movies, he finds it funny to think about how people of the past envisioned the future. he likes to disappear into worlds powered by nuclear power or steam, of underwater cities or hovercars. 

has he ever killed, and if he has ever guilty about it?

 he has. & he’s never felt guilty about it. in fact, he’s prideful that he’s never been convicted over it. it felt in that moment he became a man. 

how does he survive? 

well as right now, work for lucian. the side hustle progressive became a main hustle & found dealing less necessary. he still does the latter because he’s been involved too long & rather not arise suspicious about his new source of income to just to stop but finds that money is just used for leisure. 

what does he love?

 he doesn’t really love people, with the expectation of his mom though their relationship never allowed to truly deepen considering the woman had been working two jobs much of his childhood & became distant once he began spending more time on the streets rather than home. he loves his block, feeling a sense of pride even if it’s small. this particular square of city feels undeniable his. 

who does he admire? 

his mother. he still has a soft spot for his first mentor damien though the man doesn’t hold the almost mythic space in his mind as he once did as a child. he has a fondness for all the old italian gangsters. his celebrity ideal is obviously tpac. 

what does he fully loath?

 nypd, since they are the closest extension of the american government which he doesn’t particularly care for. considering their intense presence in his life through the overpolicing on his neighborhood, he channels all of his frustration with his oppression to them. probably his station in life & the seeming unescapablity of it. he feels rather caged to his circumstance & even if he was luckily & managed to escape the hood as often put, he knows it will always be marker on him---shown in how he talked, how he acted, that he could never truly hope to be more. 

what does he think of himself? 

the thing is robin doesn’t really think of himself. he thinks for himself, selfishly but he doesn’t really sit back & think about himself. he wouldn’t call himself self loathing or at least not consciously so, he finds that he’s jaded to himself as much as he’s jaded towards everyone else. he supposes that he is normal & he isn’t grandous to have any deeper ambitions. he lives day to day, not really dwelling on anything deeper about himself. as far as he is concerned he merely exists, around hoodrat destined to struggle & met some untimely anynoumous end. 

sweet or sour? chocolate or fruit candy? 

sweet. chocolate.

ice cream in a cone or a bowl?

 ice cream in a cone especially if that cone has a chocolate casing.

real name or fake name?