Send My Muse Anons Pretending To Be Someone They Care About. The Twist: Make These Anons As Heartbreaking,

Send my muse anons pretending to be someone they care about. The twist: make these anons as heartbreaking, disappointing, or anger-inducing as possible.

Pretend to give them bad news, pretend to break up with them, pretend to make an upsetting confession - as long as it hurts, it’s fair game.

plotting call! please have an idea of what you want to plot when i approach you.

Cameron finds the box a lot sooner than Jerome was expecting. It puts a little wrinkle in his plan, but that’s fine. He can still carry it out. He glances at the box and then at Cameron, frowning. “No.” The only movies Jerome had access to at the circus were old ones, and Arkham doesn’t have much in the way of entertainment. “Come on. Grab it and let’s get out of here.” They don’t really need the box, it’s more about what’s in it, but Jerome will let Cameron think they need the box.

He pulls Crane’s fear toxin from his jacket and smashes the vials against the side of the window sill. Hopefully it’ll spread through the whole house. He hopes Jonathan wasn’t expecting a report. He’s already out the window by the time the toxin starts wafting towards the ceiling. “Gimme the box.”

"Box." He repeats, more for himself in confirmation than anything else. Cameron is good at this -- he WILL be, he HAS to be. Can't let the new 'friend' he met on a whim, down and out, can he? No. He has a name to make, a face to splay on America's Most Fucking Wanted maybe -- if that's even a thing anymore with how many Indian Hill monsters are running around.

The blond wets his lips with a quick slide of tongue as he slinks into the warehouse. It only takes about thirty seconds of searching, maybe a few off-- but Junior eventually manages to find an adequately sized box aforementioned by his partner in crime. "Ooh-- is this it?" He calls over, hunkered down in between some crates and tarp covered material. It was nestled in with some hemp-looking sacks and hidden under a batch of what looked like imported pickles. Is that even a THING?

"You ever see that movie Seven?" Cameron asks idly, chuckling soon after as he seems to quote said movie -- "Whaaaaat's in the boooox?" God, he hopes Jerome has at least seen or heard of the damn movie or he's going to feel super awkward.

“Wait.” Art takes a step forward and sets a hand on Archie’s arm. “Don’t. I’ll walk you out.” They can go out the back entrance. They won’t be seen that way, and it’ll be a lot less of a hassle trying to navigate the dark corridors of the venue rather than trying to get through the crowds of people inside. He laughs softly. “I do.” Art hates these parties as much as Archie does. Or at least, as much as he assumes Archie does. “Come on.” He takes a step back from Archie and towards the door. “Let’s go, it’s not too far.”

ACTOR TAKES THE SHAPE OF YET another role. Wears the skin of another man as long as it helps him escape from the prying eyes of the people inside. The offered champagne is eagerly accepted ( a moment to simply hold it in his hand, he does not want to appear too eager to tip back the alcohol after all. ) Blue eyes glance once more to the world below. HE CONSIDERS IT FOR A MOMENT TOO LONG. To jump, to see if he is part cat and able to always land on his feet too.

❝ I'll go first if it will get me out of here. ❞ The itch of a panic attack is bubbling up inside his chest. The rhythmic pounding of his heart against his rib cage was a frantic reminder that he was meant to stay home under the safe covers of a heavy blanket. He should have listened to his therapist. ❝ No offence, of course. Lovely party, well organized. There are just too many people here. You know how it is. ❞

There’s nothing wrong with what Robin’s saying, but Loki bristles at her words anyway. “This isn’t a lot of work.” In the grand scheme of things, it’s barely any work at all. “You can believe whatever you like.” He folds his arms across his chest and stares out at the skyline, glaring daggers at the horizon. “I don’t care.” A lie, but he’s good at lying. He’s not the god of mischief for nothing, after all.

@notefinal said: “ No, I don’t care about anything at all. ” / loki to robin

"...I find that hard to believe."

No one has ever really accused Robin of being an optimist. But she has her moments. Looking over the skyline, she keeps her voice carefree. Playful. Last thing she wants is to come across as condescending.

"This is an awful lot of work for not caring about anything. That takes some kinda feeling."

my queue is very nearly empty and i’d like to fill it again, so consider this a starter call. specify muse or else you don’t get anything.