#runrunblvd

[boomlovejack-blog]

@runrunblvd: [ cont. from x ]

“Ew.” Even if he decided not to comment on that, Olaf’s wince would convey the exact same message as his words. “That’s why I don’t do this… good vampires meeting shit or whatever they call it. Though sometimes I wanna see them talk about love and world peace and all that crap. That’d be ironic.”

Hey, Jack couldn't blame the guy, he felt the same way. "I mean, the world peace talks basically still amount to watchin' 'em blow smoke outta their asses. The only time the goddamn things are interestin' is when someone's gettin' executed. Rest of it's just a buncha preenin' and puttin' on airs. Ya'd get more outta a Brit porno."

[meanestmachine]

@runrunblvd   |  prev.

“Sucks to be you, mate,” Olaf states with a perfectly emotionless expression and fingers laced together on the table before him. He does lean towards the other man, though, as if trying to create a friendly, inviting feel to the conversation he didn’t even ask for in the first place.

If the illusion worked, it would shatter as soon as he spoke again. “Do you wanna talk about it? Cry a little? I’ve got some tissues, and we can pretend it’s alcohol speaking if you’re worried about other people.”

❝ Wow, you surely would’ve hurt my feelings... If I happened to have any. ❞ On the other hand, the Brujah would not be intimidated at any extent by that body language and discourse; In fact, he even let out a small laugh as his hands pretended to dry invisible tears, foolish pout spread across his face; When it came to professional matters, the Cainite also shared that very same lack of empathy, but concerning what seemed to be informal matters, harmless perhaps, some emotion could emerge on those features... Sometimes. ❝ I doubt it’s something you’d want to hear, dear sir... It would take an undead life to finish. ❞ 

[mstique-blog1]

@runrunblvd

          “Is your car the one with the ‘BIG DADDY’ bumper sticker? ‘Cause that’s just a dead giveaway of how you deal with your psychosexual issues.” The imposed question (despite her aloof ignorance to any possible gawk of offense she may elicit from the stranger) is asked with an answer she already knows. She’d already seen his waxed back, skull affixed, plastered hair; the garish fluorescence of the gas station’s overhead lights bounding off a head rising out of a vehicle that definitely was not decorated in any proclamations of colossal ego -- no doubt stemming from colossal insecurity -- basic community college psychology.    “I mean, like, the only thing that’s as crass is having ‘PUSSYWAGON’ painted on the trunk.”

[descarted]

                                                   ❛               well, i’m                      glad    to have settled that and i’ll remember to keep it in mind the next time i’ll be…      not forced    to do anything.    i think that’s what people usually tell people in this kind of situation,    provided that…    those people end up in the unfortunate situation where people are not  really people.   maybe you can empathise with that,    if not with me.        i’d try and bribe you,   but i think that’d be                  pointless   ?                  ❜

@runrunblvd // cont.

[vamytas]

@runrunblvd​:

The look he gives the other man speaks more than a thousand words, but the Giovanni doesn’t stop at that; he wouldn’t be himself if he did. “Wow. That’s so deep–” And then, after the shortest pause– “I can almost see Adele rolling.” 

Laughter bellows out from Alex, rupturing the dead atmosphere around his none-too-impressed acquaintance, then -- just like that -- his grin turns flat. “Reference is a bit overdone but good effort considerin’ it ‘int barely played anymore. Also a guilty pleasure so I’d give you... seven out of ten. Maybe seven’n’a half for the glasses.”