#wrongmindwrongplace

[bitemyhip-blog]

@wrongmindwrongplace -- LIKED.

    “I’m sorry, but... Please never say something like that again.”

[fbiartist]

@wrongmindwrongplace liked ♡.

“Oh, I have one of those too.” She’s pointing at his fidget dreidel. “Except mine’s purple.” 

[aflockofbyrds]

@wrongmindwrongplace || (X)

“Yes Greg, I killed him. You free later to hide the body? Because I don’t think Aron’s gonna help me out here.”

[waitingfcrtomorrow-a]

wrongmindwrongplace replied to your post “YALL I DID THE CARLA THING”

i knew you'd make the excellent fc choice!

carla is ALSO bi!!

[nicethought]

@wrongmindwrongplace

“Have you given one of these a listen?” I hold up my new, crisp Sony Walkman. It’s black with a set of headphones. The headband is silver and the cushions are a bright red that perfectly complement my scarlet Armani tie. “I find that cassette tapes produce a clearer sound than records and the intimacy of headphones create a much more personal experience that listening to music on even the finest sound system - or even CD player - could never rival.”

[beenpole]

meg the egg

[notorgazmo-blog]

cont. from here | @wrongmindwrongplace

“You lived in Utah?”

The fear that was previously plaguing Joe’s gut is swept away, and instantly replaced with a longing for familiarity. Truthfully, the man before him doesn’t strike him as someone who probably spent much time in Utah---not that he’s judging, he never means to judge... Just that, there is a certain demeanor, and he doesn’t exactly recognize it in this guy’s face. 

“My name’s Joe, how d’you do?” and he extends his hand, with a big grin. “Where in Utah did you live?”

Then, a different familiarity strikes. 

“Say, don’t you do the news?”

[subjectwyk]

@wrongmindwrongplace answered from HERE:

        “No.”         This is the type of no that surely some hated to hear. The no that didn’t come with pause, with thought, with nothing. It was just there, a flat. A basic, quick, simple no. It’s amazing, with each passing day writing becomes less and less of a hobby for Greg. But one wouldn’t be able to tell how it exhausted him, not with how tight he’s holding (dictating) this project.     “Though the society collapsed in the war, it’s not entirely ravaged. A lot of artifacts and, untouched posters remain. There’s also a lot of remaining inhabitants who remain. Some think it can return back to it’s former glory.” He shrugs, furthering on with the concept steadily hatching in his head: “it might not be too late for it to be what originally was again.” Shrug.

Jack pouted. Supposedly they were working on this together. But it seemed the longer it went on the less say he had in it at all. He liked the idea of a hellscape. He liked horror and dystopia. 

“It’s too late to bring it back. It has to be a hellscape. It’s in ruins. Maybe there are still inhabitants and artifacts and maybe some of them are stupid enough to think it can be rebuilt but, it’s too far gone.” 

He was going to put his foot down. He wanted this project to be amazing. Something people would talk about for years and years. Sure, Greg might have his own ideas but Jack wanted his say. Wanted to be a part of it. Somehow significant to the whole of it.

“I don’t see the point of a collapsed society if it still has a chance to come back. Where’s the scariness in that?”