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CANON: the sensor
HEIGHT: 6'2"
QUOTE: Fuck me the fuck up.
AGE: 23
ALIAS: sam
MOVIE: animated original
CANON GIF: https://68.media.tumblr.com/eea830f2f8f5ae2f29065b361093a056/tumblr_o4k8i6Ti5t1v7qew2o5_r1_250.gif
APPLICATION: 77
SHIPPER: No Information
RELATIONSHIP STATUS: swinging
THEME MUSIC: http://musicjustfor.me/assets/songs/19000-19999/19266-with-the-lights-on-jason-derulo--1436023126.mp3
LYRICS: Baby, leave them on
I don't want them off
When I see them draws
Pucker, pucker, that's a no
We gonna make it grow
Pull it to the side
You say you can ride
Baby, join me in my ride

Let me hit in the front
Let me hit in the back now
To the middle of the club
Turn your back to the light now
I'm unaware, no matter where you at now
I can't wait to give you what you want
PROFILE GIF: http://33.media.tumblr.com/e63a3a463a79990a49a7e860ba96d84e/tumblr_inline_mztwd3EkWg1rsud01.gif
SEXUALITY: touch
TRACKER: No Information
Statistics
Joined: 7-October 15
Status: (Offline)
Last Seen: May 18 2017, 01:41 PM
Local Time: May 27 2017, 05:05 AM
41 posts (0.1 per day)
( 0.18% of total forum posts )
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Unread Message Email: Private
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chris james carter

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Apr 4 2017, 03:27 PM
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<div class="ratagline"><b>
toil and trouble</b></div>
<div class="rapostbox"><div class="rapb">

He hates this place. Hates it with every fiber of his being. He hates the smell, hates how the air feels against the skin. <i> Hates the silence </i> Chris remembers the farm he'd been forced to live on, how long and quiet the nights seem to be. Yet that had held more life, more noise then this place. It was almost easy to forget that somewhere out there that farm was probably totaled, the people on it long dead. That as much as he likes to pretend that there, wasn't here. It was. His world had been so similar to the other side of the portal that sometimes pulling the two apart felt like more trouble then it was worth. The fact that he had to cross or he'd forget seemed like an unfair punishment after the hell he'd gone through just trying to get away. Yet he'd crossed the portal with nothing but the clothes on his back, and the very idea of losing his memories had been akin to losing the last of his belongings. He'd never been very sentimental or even that big on keeping things around. After he'd ditched the farm he'd spent most of his time living off of random people's couches. Forever transient and never once bothering ( or really feeling like ) he should be putting down roots.

<P> His goal when he crossed was to get in and get out. He didn't want to linger; didn't want that deafening silence or the thick stagnant smell of the air. The fact that the portal had seen fit to drop him off in the middle of a forest didn't help matters much at all.

<p> His senses were on overdrive. Sight and sound alternating back and forth over which was the strongest. Letting him see even in the darker shadows created by the low hanging branches. He was, for lack of a better word, defenseless. His powers were better suited to defense and recon then offense. Which always made these crossings a hell hole of anxiety. There was no telling who or what might come bursting out of the trees towards him, what disaster awaited him on the moment he stepped foot on that other world. And if the portal left him stranded ( like it did today ) he'd be stuck until it returned again.

<p>Speaking of the devil.

<p> A sharp crack reached his ears. He'd gotten pretty good at telling distance even when his hearing was notched up, and this was still a good distance away ( and most likely harmless. he was, after all, in a forest ) but his nerves still went on high alert either way. Head turning to look towards the sound, and eyes narrowing to focus his gaze through the trees. His senses shifted; smell, touch, and taste funneling themselves towards sight. Lending him the ability to see further through the trees. "Not now. Not fucking now." Teeth gritting hard in his mouth, hard enough to draw blood. Good thing he couldn't feel, or taste it.
<p>
</div></div>
<div class="rabot">
<b>TAG:</b> OPEN <b>WORDS:</b> ??
</div></div>
<div class="tcred"><a href="http://shine.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showuser=1892" target="_blank">♛ Ames</a></div></center>[/dohtml]
Jan 29 2017, 07:23 PM
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<div class="ratagline"><b>
i'll be the watcher
</b></div>
<div class="rapostbox"><div class="rapb">

Of all the senses at his disposal he'd have to say that his sense of smell was his least favorite. Living in a city or the middle of cattle country didn't exactly lend itself to pleasant aromas. The moment he shifted his senses so that the smells got stronger; he was usually bombarded by all sorts of smells he didn't want. The scent of trash was especially prevalent, and considering he spent most of his time around seedier places it mixed in with other even less pleasant smells. Take it from him. Being able to smell just about everything didn't help alleyways get anymore appealing. For that reason he didn't really bother using that particular sense that often. His focus was usually on sight or sound, and touch would always be his favorite. Taste had it's ups and downs ( the biggest draw back being that having oversensitive taste buds never helped anyone. ) He's not sure how many different foods he's ruined by accident just by picking them apart in his mouth, but there it was.

<p> He's not entirely sure why his body decided to cycle through all his senses one by one at this particular moment. Maybe he was overly sensitive to something and his body was trying instinctively to figure out what it was, or maybe it was because he suddenly felt a little more tired then he'd been when he'd walked in here.

<p> This was one of his favorite bars. Pretty laid back with a clean kitchen that he didn't have to worry about getting weird food from. Not as wild as some of the places he usually frequented, but always full and lively nonetheless. The kind of place people went to after work to chill out, and where he could get a few minutes of just tuning things out. That and a bowl of hot wings that was liable to get you sent to the ER if you had the guts to try it. Taste was the focus at first, then his sense of hearing flooded with intensity while the other senses went numb. The silence he'd been eating with filled with the constant buzz of voices, the bar taps spraying into glasses, the sound of some kid kicking the leg of a table, the tvs buzzing with electricity. Then there was silence again and his sense shifted to touch, fingers feeling every individual grain on the wood table where they rested. The air feeling so present it was almost...heavy.

<p> Eyesight came next and he could see between the grains of the wood wall in front of him, and a million other details that made him dizzy and close his eyes. His handle on his powers was exceptional so the fact that he had no control over what was going on made him feel uncomfortable.

<p> He didn't understand why until he could smell everything. The cigarette smoke, the booze, the cooking food. The different scents of each individual person: their perfumes, their sweat, the type of toothpaste they used ( or didn't use ). He was blind for a moment while he sniffed at the air, his hands curling to dig his nails into the table. There.

<p> Under all that bar smell was something else, something almost sour. Faint. Something in the air that shouldn't be there. His senses snapped back to normal, and his eyes widened as he looked around at the people in the room. Shit. Pushing to his feet so hard he knocked his chair over "Hey! Everyone, get the fuck out of the building!"

</div></div>
<div class="rabot">
<b>TAG:</b> open <b>WORDS:</b> ###
</div></div>
<div class="tcred"><a href="http://shine.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showuser=1892" target="_blank">♛ Ames</a></div></center>[/dohtml]
Dec 30 2016, 06:37 PM
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<div class="ratagline"><b>
i'll be the watcher
</b></div>
<div class="rapostbox"><div class="rapb">

In essence it's hunting. Sure he might not have been a predator in the strictest sense; he didn't have sharp teeth and claws, but he prowled like one. Heightened senses scanning his surroundings and each face. Looking for something even he's not entirely sure he understands. It's not the easy ones, it's not the sure-fire hits. Those people are boring. He's not looking for the drunk co-ed too wasted on fruity cocktails to know their own name. He's hunting, but he wants a challenge, not to pick off the stragglers at the edge of the pack. He's not quite sure what catches his interest most days. Sometimes it was someone's appearance, while other times he'd find himself watching how they moved on the dance floor. Though he got his fair share of people hitting on him, he was on most occasions the aggressor. Enjoying the game leading up to a wild night of sex just as much as the sex itself.

<p> Not that he's actively searching at the moment. Leaning back against the bar he orders a refill on his drink without tearing his eyes off the dance floor. His eyesight keeps flickering, intensifying in and out like a camera lens trying to find a subject to focus on. He's scanning faces, watching movements, all the while deaf to the loud excited music and the drone of nearby voices.

<p> Unfortunately, looking out into the crowd is like staring into a barrel of uninteresting fish. All of them with dull gray scales; no flashing colors to snatch his attention. He really doesn't want this night to be a bummer, and he sighs at the implication that he might have to go someplace else or settle. Or...maybe he could wrangle himself more than one and see if he can start his own party. That didn't sound so bad.

<p> Head turning away from the dance floor, he looked down the length of the bar, and then- focus.

<p> The first thing he saw was the eyes. Or at least a flash of them before the person turned their head away from him. Enough that his curiosity was peaked and he was sliding off his own chair and down the length of the bar. Clearing his throat as he came up on the other man; senses adjusting back to normal so he could hear the world again. "Sup, handsome? Anyone ever tell you, you've got some intense fucking eyes." He's pretty sure in that moment that he's got a type- or just a real strong preference for killer blue eyes.
</div></div>
<div class="rabot">
<b>TAG:</b> paradiso steadfast markov <b>WORDS:</b> ### <p> <b>NOTES:</b> i hope this is ok
</div></div>
<div class="tcred"><a href="http://shine.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showuser=1892" target="_blank">♛ Ames</a></div></center>[/dohtml]
Sep 29 2016, 09:10 AM
Simple enough really, in yearbooks for senior year a lot of schools do
superlatives like; John Doe, most like to get pass out drunk. So basically just write
one for the character above you!

EDS, most like to get arrested for feels crushing.
Feb 22 2016, 03:08 PM
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<div id="nap" style="background: url(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/a3/8c/5e/a38c5e7118b46dc599d0dc6e4693e2ed.jpg); background-size: cover;"><div class="hat">
<div style="width: 20px; height: 20px; background: #FF4040; border-radius: 5px; position: absolute; top: 150px; left: 80px;"></div><div style="font-family: oswald; font-size: 15px; text-transform: uppercase; position: absolute; top: 150px; left: 105px; line-height: 150%;"> JEM </div>
<div class="cleek">Click and Hold to View</div>
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<div class="werds">
How many of these do u think it'll take to get wasted?
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<div style="width: 250px; padding: 5px 0px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: right;"><a href="http://shine.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=5438">thanks emilie ☁</a></div>
</center>[/dohtml]
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