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Misplaced Lens Cap

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@psychxpxthy
tag the oc searching for the truth
Folks!
I'm having a lot of trouble locating active RP blogs nowadays. If you'd like, please rb this and I'll come check your blog out!
If I'm already following you, please rb to get the word out! Could help other people looking for new folks to follow, too. Thanks!
"...Fuck, man."
"I'm so goddamn'd bored."
...He's choking. On pizza. On a public park bench.
"So— when we die. Yeah?"
"What if we're judged on, like, how well we did at bein' human. I'm not talkin' 'bout bein' a good human or anythin', necessarily — moreso, how well'd ya fill the role of a woefully unaware apex predator that's evolved such a massive throbbing ego that y'ain't even consider yerselves animals at all anymore? How well'd ya blend in to the fifty shades of beige it means t'be a Sarah or a Michael? Didja participate in all the tiny, inconsequential squabbles humans define their lives over, despite it not meanin' a damned thing fer their survival?"
"Dude, I am so fucked if they ask 'f I was Team Edward 'r Team Jacob."
"See, that's the thing," he starts, gesturing with the knife cavalierly.
"I can see the oven, and the pan, and the light. An' the way I see it— 'm just makin' a snack. Reheatin'. Mundane, every day, menial task meant to extend my pitiful lifespan by a few minutes. Give a little bit of yer soul t'make sure yer soul's around in another five years f'r ya t'give more of. Rationin' it out." He hops up onto the counter, kicking the oven door open with his heel. He grabs the tray and its contents, and bends over at the waist to slide it onto the racks, his precarious balance maintained only by his toes wrapped around a cabinet handle.
"But, see, maybe y'see it different. Right? So, I think I'm here makin' a snack, an' you—"
He twists his wrist, pointing with the knife. His intense, grey-blue eyes follow.
"Maybe you see th' whole complex goin' up in flames. People're screamin', th' air smells a little too much like a burnt pork roast f'r yer likin', an' I'm here, burnt half to hell and smilin' m'way through it. Singin' along t'the screams of th'damned, no fuckin' clue I'm at the center of my own destruction — an' everyone else 'round me's. Y'wonder — am I drunk? High off m'ass? ...Or are you the one fuckin' tripping? Hard to say. Matter of perspective, or whatever."
He’s counting a small wad of bills, face turning sour as he reaches the last few.
“....Aaaah, son of a bitch.”
@paranxrmality
Pleasant, if muggy, the city’s late night air buzzed with cicadas; the evidence of a nearby park. The shadows of moths caused the streetlights to twinkle like the far-off stars above, masked heavily by latent light pollution.
All quiet, the empty streets invited the weary, the lonely, and the searching.
...At least, until the roar of a motorcycle far surpassing the posted speed limits echoes off the worn brick of townhouses long-neglected. No matter where the blonde turned, the sound grew louder -- until the bike whipped past them, the tail of a trenchcoat sailing by like a victory flag.
The brakes squeal as the delinquent pulls to a sharp stop, yanking the handlebars around to point the headlight right at them. His body lurches slightly to the side; though he hangs on, it’s clear the bike’s got more responsiveness than he’s used to.
Freckles, dark hair, a wild grin...
Probably not a face the investigator had missed, since confronting him for counting cards at a casino. Hooking a thumb behind himself, Lear tosses his hair out of his eyes.
“Get on, little bird. Wanna show ya somethin’.”
me, on my posts: *writes as little info as humanly possible*
me, in the tags: so anyway, all my problems started on a hot summer day in the late 90′s, when i was born…
im such a man who leans in doorways. relaxes against the counter. drapes across a couch. sprawls over an armchair. my spine isnt straight and by god neither am i.
(( anyone else who wants a piece of reboot lear, send me an ask and we'll get this party started
hartkhosogh:
@smokes-and-bullets continued from this ask.
The boy, at first, looks incredulous. Given a clear order, the overgrown retriever picked the most juvenile possible retort. As the man’s words hang in the air, bafflement gives way to a smirk just a little too wide, a short snicker tumbling from his lips.
“…Oh, man. You really have no idea, do you?” Resting his hands in his pockets, Lear’s shoulders settle back; an easy, confident air at odds with the unsettling venom slipping into his tone. “I’m tellin’ you to get l o s t, Air Bud.”
“Hmmm.. no.. Like I said I was here first.. You get lost. You’re the one walking into my space and demanding me to leave.” Who the hell was this kid. “Does it look like I care?” He really didn’t and this guy was getting annoying, fast. What were they even talking about, so stuck up.
“Either keep walking and mind your own business or shut up and accept it. You’re the stupid fuck who wants to stay despite being the one whining like a baby over someone smoking. You can get lost you damn brat.. Stop bothering me and move. I’m not going anywhere.”
He rolls his eyes, laughing openly as he moves a hand to his back.
"Man, you still don't get it. I couldn't give less of a shit if you smoke, dude. See... I need this spot right here."
He steps a pace away, tapping the cracked concrete with the toe of his sneaker. Once, twice... and then he looks up, sharply. Amusement dances in grey-blue eyes, sharp teeth bared in an ever-widening grin.
"And I need to be alone. And, see, y'got five minutes to clear outta here. I was tryin' t'be neighborly about it all, but..." He straightens up, drawing his hand from behind his back with a shrug and a flourish. A well-worn handgun glints in the alley's wan light, his finger clearly resting on its trigger. "Have it your way, tough guy."
Bakemonogatari
(( well. looks like i cant trim on mobile
@smokes-and-bullets continued from this ask.
The boy, at first, looks incredulous. Given a clear order, the overgrown retriever picked the most juvenile possible retort. As the man's words hang in the air, bafflement gives way to a smirk just a little too wide, a short snicker tumbling from his lips.
"...Oh, man. You really have no idea, do you?" Resting his hands in his pockets, Lear's shoulders settle back; an easy, confident air at odds with the unsettling venom slipping into his tone. "I'm tellin' you to get l o s t, Air Bud."
general assholery .
“ oh right. because you’re such a big fucking deal around here. right. ”
“ yeah you know, maybe if you had been prettier… ”
“ sorry but i don’t do people with glasses. ”
“ oh pardon, but this is a Geek Free Zone. ”
“ jesus christ, do you ever shower? ”
“ i’ve never met anyone as dumb as you. ”
“ what’s it like being born as an inbred bulldog? ”
“ your mom should have used birth control. ”
“ i heard that there was a discount on rope, something for you? ”
“ the more you speak the dumber i get. ”
“ could you move the fuck out of the way? ”
“ your ass is covering up half the line, you wall. ”
“ bet your mom isn’t half as hot as you. ”
“ so, got a hot sister/brother? ”
“ holy fuck you don’t look anything like your pictures. ”
“ could you take your lung cancer elsewhere? i hate smokers. ”
“ tell me again how age ever helped anyone, oldie. ”
“ what’s it like being a responsible adult? oh wait — you’re not one. ”
“ your ego is definitely bigger than your dick. ”
“ i’m blonde. what’s your excuse? ”
“ is your ass jealous of the amount of shit that just came out of your mouth?”