cunningas: (adrien: give me a break)
She'd figured out the ritual ages ago. Or, at least, she was fairly certain she had. The only way to find out was by actually trying it and she didn't dare do that while she didn't have the house to herself. Unfortunately, her parents almost never went out anywhere and when they did, they tried to only do it when they wouldn't be leaving their only daughter alone. Typical, over-protective parental units. Finally, though, she'd convinced them that, at sixteen, she was more than old enough to spend a few hours in the house by herself on a Friday night and they deserved to have a night out together, didn't they? It had taken all of the persuasive skills she could drum up but they did, indeed, actually agree and now she was completely alone.

(But not for long.)

[fake cut to [ profile] whatyouimagine post. prequel to one posted the other day]
cunningas: (adrien: eff you!)
"I am not an extremist," he declared for the world to hear.

His companion, an almost too-young girl trying to make herself look too-old with her piercings and hair dye and leather and ink tittered into her hands. Well, she likely would have murdered anyone -- imagined murdering them, at least -- who claimed she had tittered because of course she'd done something more dignified. Like snorting. Made an amused sound. Something like that. She followed up the not-tittering with rolling her eyes and raising her eyebrows in a sardonic gesture she certainly must have learned from him, "and I'm Mother Teresa," she drawled.

(Loki smiled at her, the sort of smile with too many teeth...)

[fake cut to the actual post in [ profile] whatyouimagine]


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December 2013

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