Godfrey

R o m a n  G o d f r e y indie hemlock grove book-based #godfrxy READ THIS.

[godfrxy]

i am literally the worst rper in the land

[cultkiid]

@godfrxy ; adult!roxanne starter.

    “Kid…?” At least, she thought he was someone younger than herself. Who knows? Teens were getting taller and taller each year. Roxanne stood at the base of the motel stairwell that lead up to the second floor balcony of the shoddy suites. He looked to well dressed to be wandering around a dump like the Pink Flamingo. Too youthful. “Are you lost?” Genuine care from her tone carried over the hum of the florescent lights that lit the establishment. 

[godfrxy]

He hears her voice and he stops. Now, as he catches himself in the reflection of a window, he thinks he probably should have tried harder to blend in (but who was Roman Godfrey if not in Italian shoes and French suits) to a place like this. It’s dingy. Damp walls. Something dead in the pool, probably. Thumb and index finger swipe at the corners of his lips, and he turns to her properly with a smile.  ‘Just passing through. Why? Are you lost?’ To pretty to be in a place like this, he could say back. Too short, too. No easy feat being pretty under fluorescent lights, harsh white. She’s older than he is (not hard), but that wouldn’t stop him. Nothing looks good under those. Even him, he imagines. He wonders if he looks as tired as he had felt just an hour ago (pre-meal). ‘What can I say? I’m a sucker for neon signs.’

[godfrxy]

hmu with things

[godfrxy]

OPEN;

‘I need a fucking cigarette.’

[ghostling]

H O R R O R . P R O M P T S

“I just got back from the cemetery.”

“I swear I just saw someone… or something looking in my window.”

“I know I closed the damn closet door, but it keeps opening! Please tell me this is just some kind of joke you keep pulling.”

“What’s behind you in these pictures…?”

“Apparently like 20 years ago, some girl slaughtered her family in the basement.”

“I think there’s something about this house that you’re not telling me.”

“I keep hearing noises coming from the attic…”

“I know what I saw, and whatever is in the basement… it’s not human!”

“I didn’t have time to see what it was! I just got the hell out of there!”

“Whose grave were you bringing flowers to…?”

“The electricity guy said there was absolutely nothing wrong – and yet, the lights always flicker on at 2am. Explain that to me?”

“Why don’t you spend the night in that house ‘alone’, then try to convince me that you don’t believe in ghosts.”

“Y-you don’t understand, he didn’t have a face!”

“I had a dream that I killed you.”

“Ah, yes… the room you’re staying in. It’s a paranormal hot spot, apparently.”

“I keep hearing whispers at night… I-I can’t sleep!”

“There was something else in there with me, I’m not going back to that house.”

“Come on, it’s just an urban legend…”

“Are you trying to tell me I’ve been sleeping in a dead girl’s room!?”

"I keep getting the feeling that someone is following me.”

“Don’t panic… but I think there’s someone else in the house.”

“I can still feel her/his ghost, and it’s killing me…”

“There’s something growling in the basement… could you, uh… check it out for me?”

“Can you just… can you please check the closet?”

“P-please… put the knife down.”

“I bought this haunted ring on eBay!”

“No, no, no – run!”

"I didn’t forward one of those freaky chain letters and now I keep hearing the laughter of children coming from my hallways at night.”

“The dead are all around us…”

“She’s dead! She’s dead and yet I keep seeing her, everywhere!”

“There’s something breathing under the bed…”

"You can’t tell me you don’t believe in ghosts after all we’ve been through.”

“I saw something I wasn’t supposed to see, something… that wasn’t supposed to be here.”

“Maybe an exorcism is in order…?”

“I woke up, and it was j-just… staring at me.”

“He was there, then like a second later he literally vanished! I saw it happen!”

“I like the ghosts here… they keep me company.”

"You can’t honestly tell me you’re in love with a dead girl.”

“Wasn’t someone murdered in this house? Why are we here?”

“If dying means being with him/her, kill me. I’d be happier that way.”

“Ghosts aren’t real. You need help.”

“…what do you mean we didn’t talk last night? You came over, you were here.”

“You saw something you weren’t supposed to see. And now… now you know what has to be done.”

“I’m pretty sure my toaster’s haunted.”

"What’s wrong with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Don’t! Don’t you dare open that door!”

“I visited his/her grave for the first time today…”

“Something terrible happened here, didn’t it?”

“Wh-why do you have a knife…?”

"You’re all bloody, what happened!?”

“You know that book from The Evil Dead? Yeah, well… I’m pretty sure we found something pretty damn similar to it.”

“You’re bleeding…”

“How can you not see it…? I’m dead! I’ve been dead for years!”

“I’ve always wanted to see you choking on your own blood.”

“I’m sorry, I’m busy Friday with the… funeral and all.”

“I’ll never forget the sound of his screaming.”

“From the looks of it, the afterlife is a lot more fun than this.”

"Legend has it that you can still hear her crying for her lover in the dead of night.”

“I want to be dead, too.”

“Well don’t you look lovely, all covered in blood.”

"Whoa – wait! Please don’t go down there… let’s just get out of here, please?”

“You played with a Ouija board!?”

“Me and some friends played with a Ouija board the other night… and things have been a little strange since then.”

“There’s so much negative energy in this house… do you know if someone died here?”

“You’re always hanging out in cemeteries… and yeah, it’s kinda creepy.”

"They just don’t believe like they used to…”

“I will haunt you until the end of time.”

[godfrxy]

the salty af munday meme

Because, like it or not, we're not all balls of sunshine all the time. We can be pure salt when we want to be.

☠ What does someone have to do for an instant unfollow from you?

♥ What's the WORST thing that has happened to you rp wise?

♦ What was a mildly annoying thing that has happened to you rp wise?

♢ Has anyone ever tried to steal your blog? Your headcanons? Icons? All that jazz

♚ How many people don't like you?

⚜ How many people do you not like?

✮ Have you managed to stay away from drama?

☄ Have you ever been in the middle of drama?

☯ Have you ever tried to bring peace to a situation?

☼ How long do you stay mad?

☀ What's your rp pet peeve?

☁ Have you ever forgiven a partner when you shouldn't have?

☂ Have you ever been forgiven when you knew you shouldn't have been?

☢ What fads/trends are you so over?

☣ Have you ever rp'd with someone you knew for a fact was abusive but tried to give them a chance/to make up your own opinion on the roleplayer? Did they change or did you understand what people were talking about?

♨ Have you ever made a public call out post?

❀ What has made you completely lose your chill?

✿ What do you think about public call out posts?

✂ A fandom that you feel isn't open and accepting?

✉ A fandom that you feel is open and accepting?

✦ Thoughts on duplicates following you?

✧ Do you agree with reblog karma or is it forced interaction?

❥ Has someone ever ruined an FC or character for you?

❦ Has someone been jealous of you?

❧ Have you ever been jealous of anyone?

✖ How has Tumblr RP changed since you started?

♒ Thoughts on the fandom you're currently rping in?

❣ How salty are you feeling right now?

[paranormalthread]

[godfrxy]

OPEN;

‘I need a fucking cigarette.’

[lushcola]

[godfrxy]

yikes

[godfrxy]

@venemouslove

Roman comes down the stairs, a hand at his cheek. It’s sore. He pads down, barefeet on marble, and into the kitchen. A cup of coffee, and then into the lounge. ‘It’s late. Shouldn’t you be out whoring for someone’s lunchbreak?’

[pctitemort-deactivated20161103]

“total shame that i couldn’t have lived out my existence as a sideshow attraction.” narrowing ambers at him with a snippier tone than normal– whatever. not like they were on the route of forming any sort of bond anyway and he looked like he could take it just fine. still, it bothers her how much she bristled at the concept. maybe it’s charlie’s death at her…hands. maybe it’s the mocking of a curse she couldn’t control ro simply rid herself of. whatever it is, it got her good. “you have…no idea..” licking her lips in mild frustration. her little curse didn’t just kill, it amplified her more baser instincts to use her power– a power she couldn’t without killing her partner. “we’re witches, we…get by.” a vagues and easily interpreted phrase that she would’ve done well not to employ.

[godfrxy]

‘Easy money,’ he says with a shrug, and a grin. The kind of shit-eating grin that only a man that has never had to answer for a thing in his life can have (or at least one that can happily forget the things he’s had to answer for).  ‘Oh yeah? Fine. Isn’t there some kind of cosmic karma? Personal gain and all that kind of thing? Or is it just a free for all?’ Of course he’s heard of them, heard everything about them, killer vagina, dead girl, or whatever, witches, yeah. He’s come across those before. Not had a great experience with them if he’s entirely honest about it.

[flamedamaged-a-blog]

Art    ,   a world beyond her understanding   ,   how anyone could glance at paint  &   have emotions  emerge and pulse was information yet to comprehend.    Did they glance and see differently   ,  was  there something left unseen that could change her mind       ?       if so  ,   eyes could wander across  each piece for days in hopes of finding.       Raw frustration growing in place of the concept   ,   was  it possible   ?    was a detail missed   ,    brows furrowing tight.       Worries abandoned    ,   it seems  the male took it upon himself to explain in great depth why her opinion was incorrect.           Tension  lost as head turned to glance   ,   captivated by his speech   ,             impressed with the seemingly passionate words. 

                 “    I get it.    You think death is beautiful    ?   “       Smirk edging across ashen features  ,  once furrowed brows now lifted with amusement   ,     something about this one was different than  strangers passed in busy streets       –––––––––––         determined to figure this riddle out    &    to  complete the puzzle.        “    Are you a murderer    ?    “        Mirth drenched words effortlessly    &  thoughtlessly spoke without care for reactions or consequences. 

[godfrxy]

He looks down at her, stares. Not quite a piece of art herself (though he supposes in some way there’s beauty and art in everything, in the way the human body creates another). He looks at her face, he raised eyebrows, the amusement, and he wonders what she expects him to say. ‘Yes.’ Why not? It s the truth, in a way. He has killed. For sustenance. Is it considered murder? Does a lion murder the gazelle? He could kill for pleasure, perhaps he already has, but he hasn’t thought about it, really, to think about it is to admit. He turns back to the artwork in front of them. ‘The only piece worth buying, and it won’t last more than a week. Shame.’

[emilyxfairchild]

She was honestly a little shocked that he’d agreed, but help was help. Maybe her luck was changing. She didn’t get her hopes up too high though. It was after all just a phone call.

Her eyes had to move skyward when she was able to see him. He was tall. Tall and thin. Her eyes took a moment to leave his; something about him captivated her, something she couldn’t quite out her finger on.

She forced her eyes away from him and crossed the threshold to his home. “Thanks,” she said as she passed him.

The house was warmer than it looked. Not as cold and sterile as she’d imagine from the outside. Although it wasn’t entirely welcoming either. She rubbed her hands together to warm them faster as she walked through the entryway.

“Wolves I can deal with,” she said offhandedly. “Tree attack actually,” she said as she took in his place.

[godfrxy]

‘Can’t blame a shark when you enter its house,’ he says by way of blaming her for her own misfortune. He closes the door behind her.  A modern house need not be cold, nor sterile. His is warm, and slightly sterile, easier to keep clean, he thinks, of all sorts of nasties, and a nice way to keep people from staying too long. He watches her, then walks past and leads her to the phone. ‘Where were you going?’

[comedenteam-deactivated20170221]

“ Nah, I’m fuckin’ busy. Ya ain’t gonna buy, then that’s up to ya. “

It wasn’t as if he was being deliberately rude. Pfft, nah, he was, but not because of anything superficial like some tool hanging out in an alleyway. He was simply just busy, balancing cash and drugs on his arms like some form of open recepticle. Just didn’t have the patience.

Taking money from people poorer than himself, sometimes wealthier, was what he was here for, just so he can turn around, restock, pay his bills, and snort till he couldn’t anymore. Wasn’t here to cater to anyone but himself and if this guy wanted some kind of special treatment, then he came to the wrong place. Kid might not be a professional, but he wasn’t a stranger to monsters.

“ If ya gonna stand there twiddlin’ ya thumbs, then couldja not stare at me? “ Ugh.

[godfrxy]

Roman kisses his teeth, watches this guy, amused. He doesn’t consider himself an addict, how would he? Highly-fuctioning is Roman Godfrey. And there’s not a person in the world with any sense that would call him an addict, not if he doesn’t. Is he an addict if he doesn’t shake and scratch? (Yes.) It’s a habit for him, not a necessity, he can stop if he wants to.  ‘What’s it matter to you? Free country, buddy.’ He keeps staring, more to irritate him than to satisfy anything in himself. But Roman wonders vaguely if he could get high chowing down on addicts. 

[godfrxy]

@withalisp

‘So,’ he says, laying on her bed, shoes hanging off the end – he doesn’t quite fit. ‘You have any dirt for me?’ It’s been a while, it’s been too long. Hemlock Grove has been too quiet – not that he’d swap that for the extensive list of tragedies over the last years. (Or would he?)

[godfrxy]

@cruentuscor

‘Der Führer’s panties are in a bunch – want to go and poke the bear?’ Probably not the best idea, but Roman was never, and never would be, the pioneer of good ideas when it come to Olivia. Sometimes, he supposes, people must think that at times he feels guilty, but he doesn’t. C’est la vie!