Put a name before “…has passed away” and I’ll tell you my muse’s reaction if they died
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[I. . . I would like to know your first impressions of me. . . so. . . please? Truly please?]
Next person to write ‘shh…’ in my ask box owns me handcuffed for 24 hours
Next person to write ‘shh…’ in my ask box owns me handcuffed for 24 hours
Next person to write ‘shh…’ in my ask box owns me handcuffed for 24 hours
Lokisdottir: harry—monmouth: iamthefirechild: Kris couldn’t resist the temptation…
Lokisdottir: harry—monmouth: iamthefirechild: Kris couldn’t resist the temptation…
Kris couldn’t resist the temptation to run a hand along Harry’s ankle, enjoying the feel of the leather against his skin. “What changes aren’t acceptable?” he coaxed.
Henry tensed along the touch, watching his hand cautiously. “I know not of what…
“Though hiding a goat from a family of wolves will have the elders starve. I cannot simply hide; I do not want to lie to him. He is to be the person to put the crown on my head—there, I will stand differently.” He muttered, trying not to move away, the young prince sighed, averting himself. “I cannot simply forget the person I had known for longest. I am my own, though I am also his flesh and blood, a first born, heir and a brother.”
“Oh, aye, shape yourself to his desire alone, and lose track of who you are in the process,” Kris half-sneered. “The pitiable life of a prince of the realm, lauded by whores and thieves and half-drunken, Henry’s golden son. I could hate you for this.”
Next person to write ‘shh…’ in my ask box owns me handcuffed for 24 hours
Next person to write ‘shh…’ in my ask box owns me handcuffed for 24 hours
Next person to write ‘shh…’ in my ask box owns me handcuffed for 24 hours
((Let’s make this a bit more interesting for Tony.
Next person owns him blindfolded AND gagged along with the handcuffs.
I shall choose who I want.))
Okay, anons
You say you exist, and you’re always watching. I think I need this to happen. So make it happen.

Lokisdottir: Late Night||Open RP
Lokisdottir: Late Night||Open RP
feelers-for-jeans-and-atshirt:
feelers-for-jeans-and-atshirt:
feelers-for-jeans-and-atshirt:
feelers-for-jeans-and-atshirt:
Tom sat in the smallish table just after finishing up on set, of course, out of any ridiculous outfit or something of the sorts. Empty minded, he had assumed, he looked out of the rather large window, the city still full of life, even at the latest of hours….
Tom chuckled shaking his head. “Ah, no I don’t mind…” He gestured to the seat across from him, sipping his coffee again. It was perhaps even approaching early morning now, he was still surprised how crowded it was in the morning, his fingers tapping a soundless rhythm on the half-full paper cup he held. “Rather crowded, huh? Surprised to find a seat?” The actor joked, looking to her with his honest smile.
“Absolutely. If it wasn’t getting cold out there, I’d’ve just taken my drink and left, but brrrr!” Tagging the chair out with one foot, Summer managed to get seated without any kind of disastrous spill or clumsiness. With a long sigh, she pulled the clip out of her hair and tossed her head a little, letting the length of it unfurl down her back. “Oh god, that’s better.
“So,” she grinned at the guy across the table, “I’m Summer, and I’m still awake because I’m an insomniac who likes to wander. What about you?”
Tom replied with a small ‘ahh’ as well as a slow nod of his head, nearly sensing the cold from the window near him. He was glad to be wearing a leather jacket at the time, rubbing his arm as she spoke. His blue eyes flickered up to the next person to leave or enter the small cafe, feeling the wind pushing into the place until the door slowly shut. As well as the wind, the sounds of the beeping cars or the crowds of people still talking pushed in.
“Summer, a lovely name!” He smiled, looking back to her. Tom was sure to take it into note, sure to remember it. “A pleasure to meet you, love! My name is Tom, an actor..just taking a short coffee fix before heading back..” The actor replied, his hands leaving the coffee and pushed them in his jacket’s pockets.
“If you’re out this late, but having to head back, you must be a screen actor, not a stage actor … the Broadway kids don’t usually have to head back at this hour.” Summer smiled, cocking her head and drumming her fingertips on the notebook. “Night shoots must suck.”
Tom nodded, returning a smile back to her. “Yup, on screen actor..although, I did do some on stage acting as well..” he replied, obviously passionate of acting and such other thing. He glanced down to her notebook, “Ah, do…you write or draw?” The actor asked curiously, sitting up a bit straighter, letting out a slow breath as he did.
“Oh, write,” she laughed. “I can’t draw to save my life. I’ve tried every little creative thing out there, but if you want to be any good you have to get focused, you know? So I picked the writing, because I just couldn’t bear to sacrifice my hair to the stage.
“It works out pretty well, but I do have to be careful of picking up other peoples’ voices. I swear, after I read Butterfly and Hellflower I talked slang for a week!”