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❝ - hαt trıck,

10/14/2021 09:16 PM 

♕ ⸻ guidelines.

GUIDELINES. I'm not strict with these please just read them through? Thanks!✘ ADMIN:Won't go into too much details with this cause no one really cares about personal lives, maybe you do idk. I'm a twenty something from the UK Scotland to be more precise. I'm not here for a relationship, I'm here to write and find friends potentially. I've been writing for about ten years off and on. I won't be on 24/7; health comes first.✘ CHARACTER: I hope it would be somewhat obvious who I'm writing as, if not, I'm portraying Jervis Tetch / Mad Hatter from DC Comics / Gotham. I'm not new to Jervis either. I prefer the Gotham version of him but I'm not opposed to writing from a comic stand point or arrowverse either. I won't go into too much detail on him as his full bio can be found on my profile. I don't play him much different from the show unless past season five since that's where the show finished unfortunately. I just don't ship him with his sister (unless for a non canon side story).✘ CROSSOVERS:Crossovers welcomed, honestly, hell yes! Give me them all.✘ EDITS/GRAPHICS:Self explanitory, don't steal graphics. That ain't cool. I make everything from scratch. I don't mind being asked, just be nice.✘ RELATIONSHIP(s):If there is anyone out there that would love to be a connection to my character then don't be shy. The more close friends he has the better. All Gotham mains are wanted though. In terms of shipping, Jervis is fairly open to everyone and all genders.✘ STORYLINES:I shouldn't have to explain this but if you know my character, you'll know which type of storylines there could be. I'm up for everything, if you're going to write with me, know that I can't write professional smut (seriously aha). I prefer to discuss before starters are sent. I won't hypnotise anyone's character unless anyone gives me the say so to do in a storyline.✘ WRITING:Whilst I prefer to write in paragraphs to multi paragraphs, it isn't a necessity. As long as other people have literacy, that's more than perfect same with being able to keep the story going. Patience is a must when it comes to writing with me, please just note you maybe won't get a response straight away -  I run a custom edit site via ani and I have an OC account over there too.Thank you for reading!

Dancing Queen

10/14/2021 03:47 PM 

Karla's Bio

Karla Reyes was born to Victor Reyes and Giovanna Greer Mackenzie in 2002. She was their only child and light of their life. They both doted on and fussed over her constantly. Giovanna never got to finish being a dancer and had a band in high school, so she swore her kid would be the greatest dancer the world had ever seen. She put Karla in lessons as soon as she was capable of singing and dancing and once she was old enough, her grandparents taught her how to play piano(Her mother later taught her guitar).When Karla was 6, Victor became ill. He went through a long, agonizing battle with lung cancer and died when she was 8. Her grandparents blamed her mother and they never spoke again. Karla and her mother lost everything, since all their money went into trying to save her father. They had no real home, she had to leave private school, she had to lose her only friend and all she had was church. She found solace in god, but her mother was lost and turned to smoking, drugs and the bottle. By the time she was 10, her mother was addicted to pills. She was arrested when Karla was 10 for stealing pills from the hospital(she was a nurse).Karla was in the system and lived a difficult life until she was 14. Her mother was released early for good behavior and came to get her. She was clean and claimed to be a new woman. Their peace and new start didn't act long and Karla was shocked at her mother's behavior during her first bipolar episode. She took her to the doctor, but her mother hated taking meds and didn't like any of her therapists. Karla would have to force her to go and made her take medication. She became the adult and her mother was the child. They'd argue and their fights would quickly become abusive and cruel. Karla did whatever she could to stay out of the house and she turned to church for solutions. She was devout for awhile, even if she always had conflict about the LGBTQ issue. However, once her character found out her best friend was non-binary and gay. She couldn't reconcile the two and walked away from her oldest support system.Karla's love of dancing never wavered and the only time her mother was ever normal was when she was being a dance and stage mom. She made sure that Karla had everything she needed to be a great singer and the best dancer she could possibly be. As a result, Karla got into every college she applied to. However, her mother didn't want her going to her dream school. She didn't want Karla leaving her at all. She liked being taken care of and didn't want to do anything herself. The two of them got into a vicious fight over the fact that Karla had accepted the free ride at NYU. Karla wound up in the hospital and her mother was arrested. Her mother went to a psych ward because of the fact that she didn't take her medication and Karla stayed with old foster parents. She asked her foster sister to help her run away while her mother was in the psych ward and her sister agreed.Before Karla ran away, she had paid a deposit to an apartment so she'd have a place to stay. Once she got to New York, she took a taxi to her apartment and met her new roommates. They showed her around and gave her a few days to adjust before she began looking for a job. She saw that the hotel her friends worked at needed someone who played the piano. She was only 18, but she was a prodigy, so she begged for a chance. She played for the owner and he was wowed, so he gave her the job for the summer. She spent the summer playing the piano and adjusting to the Big Apple. Once it was time, she bought what she needed and moved into the dorms at NYU.

🐾 𝒲𝑜𝓁𝒻 𝑀𝒶𝑔𝒾𝒸 ✨

10/14/2021 03:47 PM 

Hope's Starting Down a Dark Path...(Drabble)

Hope was devastated after loosing her mother Hayley and her father, Klaus after that. She felt broken, if that was even possible after killing her mother in the first place. She felt empty, cold, distant from Landon...after all she had chosen Josie over her. But would things change? As she walked in the woods on the property of The Salvatore School for the Young and Gifted she kept playing peoples accusation and words through her mind..."Your vengeful..." "This vengeance isn't you it's your father Hope..." "You aren't just anyone, your a first generation Mikealson witch, with a terrifying amount of power..." "You will bring death to us all Hope..." "when people like you and me flip out Hope, entire villages can burn, remember that." Her teachers, aunt Freya's words ran through her mind. She closed her eyes and tried to hold it in, but her magic had been on the back burner, she finally broke as she cried out falling to her knees.


10/14/2021 03:42 PM 

Sonam bio

Sonam Seth was born in Baltimore, Maryland. Her father was an accountant and her mother was a proofreader and editor. She grew up in Baltimore until her father got a job in the D.C. Area. After that, she spent most of her life in D.C. She had problems from birth onwards. She was born with deformed feet, a trait which made her mother ashamed of her. By the time she was 5, she wore leg braces. She grew out of them at 7, but it didn't matter. She had behavioral problems and was diagnosed with ADHD at 6. She found out she was epileptic at 7. Her health, along with two parents who hated each other, made for a tumultuous childhood. She swore that she'd get away from everyone when she turned 18. Sadly, that didn't really pan out.Sonam moved to New York at 18 for college and went to an all-girls school. She met her first love there and had brief happiness until she had a breakdown that made her move home. They tried long distance, but he cheated and they kept making up and breaking up. She tried going to other schools, but she couldn't handle life. Even community college was too hard and after her relationship ended, she became agoraphobic. Until she was 21, she wasn't ready to function. She tried dating, but it always wound up ending badly.She began art school in Virginia and loved it until an incident with her roommates forced all of them to leave the school. She began her first real job during school and then worked while she went to community college. She had to go slowly because of her health and withdrew a few times. in 2005, she became violently ill for no reason and wound up being diagnosed with Intersistial Cystitis, as well as several other problems. She finally graduated in 2007 and tried to finish at a school in Baltimore. She was forced to drop out during her senior year because her health went out of control. This time, her family convinced her to give up for good.She left school and chose to just focus on the one thing she loved more than anything, which was writing.It was hard for her, since her mother the editor had such high standards. She got stuck on her novel several times. She gave up on it eventually and tried to focus on a new project. in 2016, her mother died. She had no caregiver and her world was spinning. Her brother suggested that she and her father come move in with him in Los Angeles. So she did and she's been living in L.A. ever since. She's an indie and freelance writer and does whatever she can, although it's not easy to make money. She finished her novel, but she can't afford to make print copies and market them. She's currently trying to write serials and see if there are other ways to make money writing fiction.


10/14/2021 02:32 PM 

Lonely Lost Boy -Drabble

“Beneath all that power, you’re nothing more than an unloved, lonely, lost boy.”Clinks of metal scraped against an iron anvil, forging what great warriors would call weapons of man. Truthfully, these weapons were built on the blood, sweat, and tears of children who were cast aside by their loved ones. Malcolm shared this same tragedy with many other boys that weren’t good enough. The value of gold weighed heavier than the value of love, and a family member who couldn’t produce work could only be thrown to the wolves. He was willing to do anything for his papa, even if it meant returning home with scraped knees and blistered fingers so sore they felt as though they’d break off at any moment’s notice. “Your payment is worth more than ye’.” His father spoke with no hint of empathy. Malcolm latched onto his father’s trousers begging him to give him chances, give him duties, work, or anything of the sort that could keep the family together. His father responded by plunging him into servitude as a smithy’s right-hand boy. For several years, Malcolm denied the idea that his father would abandon him so quickly. As the nights grew colder, he’d create scenarios showing an alternative reason for why his father could promptly remove him from his life as if he never existed there in the first place. Some restless nights, his father would be reporting back from war with one of the weapons Malcolm had forged himself, stating the war had finally come to an end, and they could return home. Other nights, he’d imagine him crawling back with regret begging him to be once again the son he loved so dearly. With barely a fabric to cling to, Malcolm held onto these beliefs in hopes they’d come true during the cold of winter. “Think lovely thoughts….” When slumber became his ally, his dreams were filled with wondrous verdant plants, cakes that touched the skies, and fellow lost boys that found themselves in the carefree world of Neverland. All of the boys would forget the world they left behind and dance until they could barely feel the soles of their feet. Nothing mattered, and the collective sounds of their laughter filled the night until he’d blink awake to his nightmare---reality. One morning, his master escorted him to the neighboring village to sell their latest work. Despite his dismay, Malcolm had become a reputable forger for his work and was considered valuable. Now, in his late teens, Malcolm used his anger to fuel the fire for his weapons. His innocent hope was diminishing as the years went by. He thought the past couldn’t hurt him, and the only way to relinquish it completely was to look to the future. The past always crept its way into his life when he thought he’d become rid of it.A loud crash caught the attention of Malcolm and his master, turning their heads and pushing through the crowd to see what the fuss was about. A disgusting grubber fell knees to the floor, begging for coin. The rugged voice, the jitter in his accent, stirred a wave of anger within him. When the man turned his face, it was the very man that abandoned Malcolm years ago. The men pummeled the man to a pulp coying a game of who could make him hit the ground harder. Malcolm had his turn, but his fist never stopped. The pleas were drowned out by the constant pounding and shattering teeth that spewed out of his dirty maw. Several men pulled Malcolm away before he could end the man’s life; he wanted that look in his eye to be indistinguishable from the father he once knew. Calmed down, heaving heavily and hands stained with blood, he realized the man wasn’t his father but a poor old man, a coward that reflected his pain. Malcolm cleaned off his sore knuckles in the nearby lake; the forest trees cool the air with their bellowing leaves and sway brush along with the wind. “May I help you? You are only making it worse.” His green hues were fixated on the voice, a beauty that knew no equal and that stilled his words. She smiled and asked again, “May I?” Her soothing voice entranced him. Malcolm cleared his throat then offered his blood-stained hands to her. Her fingers were gentle, soft, and caring. Even such simple touches sent his body into a frenzy of emotions he had never felt before. Their smiles were child-like, carefree, and filled the love he had lost long ago. He had no confidence in his actions, yet from here on out, she’d be his loving wife, Fiona. Their love turned into talks of the future and creating a family. With the birth of their boy, Malcolm shed tears he never thought he’d shed with nothing but love for their growing home. Fiona was clingy, but he adored watching his son cradled into her loving arms. Malcolm worked harder than he had before to keep the smile on their faces and put food on the table. Days were quicker than a whip, his mind wandering off to think of the wife and child he had at home. He lost daylight and hurried home through the dead of night with only a lantern to shine his way. Upon entering the cottage, he was greeted with child screams and strangely dressed women carrying his crying boy. “Fiona?!” He called out, but no tender words replied. An immediate feeling of dread shook him to his core and entangled him with absolute grief---his wife was gone. The women were Fairies and explained that his wife had died. They gave no more explanation or reason why she suddenly left, leaving him alone, only a screaming boy without a mother to attend to his cries. He tried to bargain with them before they left him alone, but they disappeared without giving aid. “His name will be Rumplestiltskin.” Malcolm tried to live with the dream his wife left behind, of a family pulled together by their broken past. Depression meant agreeing to the present, yet he couldn’t bring himself to believe his wife was indeed dead. But every time he looked at his son’s face, it only reminded him of the wife, the money, and the future that was taken away from him. Just as suddenly she was gone, the years he kept this burden in his life were already far too many. An opportunity struck when they escaped to Neverland, the world of his dreams, the world that kept him going through his youth. He brought his son Rumple and demonstrated the proper way to explore its boundaries. However, he noticed he was unable to do the same activities he could as a child. When he asked the lingering Shadow, it exclaimed, “You do not belong anymore!” That is when he realized he could erase it all. The past would be irrelevant, and the ever frustration and guilt could be plucked from his life if he only removed the very burden that brought it all crumbling down. “A child can’t have a child. Don’t fight it. We both know you’re better off without me. I was never meant to be a father.” Freeing himself of Rumple meant accepting the life he was meant to live. The youth who never received the childhood he deserved enveloped his features, the pain in his hands gripped the doll left behind, and the pressure slipping off his shoulders solidified that he made the right decision. The man he left behind was a coward, lonely, lost boy that couldn’t mark his place in the world, the world turning its back on him. Life flowed through him, and with his newfound revelation, he will do as he pleased. No longer will he be bound by the rules of the world. He will be in complete control.“I am Peter Pan.”


10/14/2021 02:09 PM 

AC 13: recommit.

Forgiveness.    That’s a tough one. She had forgiven anyone associated with her ex forever ago. Or at least that’s how it felt. But seeing Thomas and Matthew both here made her realize that she hadn’t. Although another point was made; she hadn’t forgiven herself for any wrongdoings she had done either.    “Forgive yourself so you can forgive others.”   It had been drilled into her for years since the accident from her mother and since she had gotten here.  Despite how much she tried, it was still a work in progress and something she had a hard time doing. It wasn’t a matter of her not wanting to; it was more a matter of her deeming herself as unable to receive forgiveness from herself even if she could readily give it to other people.    The workshops so far for the week were helpful and served as a reminder for why she was here. She worked hard until Matthew showed up in Italy to be a better person and work on herself in every way possible. Italy had been a minor setback for her, which more or less resulted in her pulling back, not from the Organization but from the people she had grown to love in general. She forgave him once for his part and despite how much she truly did not want to, she would work hard on doing it again for the sake of her place here.    Listening to Phoebe talk about forgiveness was harder than she thought. She always thought forgiveness was forgiving those who did you wrong and in that part, she excelled. But everything that was being said, she resonated with and it was in that moment that she decided to recommit to the Organization. To work harder on being a better person, and not just for those and to those around her, but to herself as well.


10/14/2021 01:10 PM 


Task 15 Aren't you too old to trick or treat? never Halloween was not Zoey's favourite holiday, no she much preferred Christmas. Everything at Christmas felt magical, from the christmas carols played everywhere, the festive spirit, the snow and the cold, the christmas trees and the bright lights and the prospect of giving and reciving gifts and not to mention all the great food... but Halloween... well Halloween did mean that Thanksgiving was coming soon and that they weren't actualy that far away from her favourite holiday season. With that being said, just because it wasn't her favourite, didn't mean that the brunette disliked it. In fact, one of her most favourite things about Halloween and her most cherished memories was dressing up with her siblings and being able to go out to trick or treat with her group of friends. It was always the usual suspects, they had grown up together and formed a very close bond... though Zoey didn't speak to all of them a lot anymore. After everything that happened with her father, and her moving away and returning, they did distance themselves for a bit.This year though, Zoey was determined to bring that old tradition back. They had all grown up since but now, finally, her sister's baby was the perfect chance to get out, get dressed, and actually partake in a wholesome activity that didn't end up with her completely trashed and a hangover the next day dressed in some sort of slutty variation of a nerdy choice of outfit. Last year Zoey dressed up a sexy garbage bag and the year before that, a slutty Daisy from Gatsby. But this year, she had her eye on the prize. This year... it was going be Cher and her little neice, Sunny. She had spent the week preparing, actually more like since the start of the month. Her whole flat turned spooky and she had been baking batches of spooky themed cookies to pass out to her friends, family and colleagues. She was even running a charity haunted hause as part of her charity work. The brunette absolutely loved to give back to the community, it was in her nature growing up, she loved to help people. She was dressed up in her best imitation of Cher and given that she was baby sitting her neice, had her all ready to go. She took some of her friends' children too, round her neighbourhood to trick or treat. It was an important experience in her opinon and she wanted to make sure that the children had the best time. It was upon knocking on a particularly fancy door on their upteenth round of the neighbourhood was she met with an attractive man. He swung the door open and flashed her a smile before glancing down and seeing all the children. "Ah, I was just about to ask aren't you too old to trick or treat?' He asked, his voice teasing. Zoey blushed brightly, "Never... I'd say you're never too old..." She teased back.   


10/14/2021 11:41 PM 


Bowie's favourite new & old shows to watch on Netflix.Country Comfort | Julie and the Phamtoms | LuciferPretty Smart | Riverdale | Sex EducationSexy Beasts | Sister, Sister | Squid Game


10/14/2021 12:58 PM 

Landslide Drabble

1971."I took my love and i took it down.. i climbed a mountain and i turned around." When stevie began to sing Lindsey realised one thing when they had been in Aspen he had left her in an argument a rage before he took off in a rage. "I've been afraid of changin' 'cause i've bulit my life around you." The tears welled up in his eyes she had told him not to say anything at first before she had sat him down with her own guitar and and sang the very song to him, it was as subtile hint that she had been thinking about walking away from him who could blame her he was immature smoking blunts, always playing guitar  while she was working three jobs just to support them.Lindsey didn't blame Stevie one bit for considering packing up and walking from him for good while he was out touring with the Everly Brothers of course he lived and create passionate music but Stephanie Nicks?The tears that had welled up in her eyes caused him anxiety, anxiety that  she had made her mind up about leaving him had he caused her this much pain to sit him down and play to sing him this most tender song. his chest rose he stopped breathing at this point he hung his head Had she beed really thinking all this time since they got back from Aspen  that she was considering to staying school, break up with him? he needed her more than anything "can I handle the seasons of my life?"  he bit down on his lip  to keep him from crying in front of her was she really walking away if she did he was scared sh*tless to be independent  without her who was going to push him to be his very best. "linds?" he hadn't realised the song had been over his eyes had cried in-front of her, her hands had cupped his face  wiping his tears "Liddy buck.. I love you, I can't do this life without you I'm scared of doing life without you, but... something has to change i can't keep going through this cycle."  What cycle was she talking about  her petite body had straddled his lap to comfort him.I've been afraid of changin' i've built my life around you.. I took my love and i took it downThe cycle of fighting leaving and making her think they were at no point of return if they broke up she would return back to college and continue to work. Which meant Lindsey had to change a lot of things. He couldn't let her walk out that door tonight or ever, so he wasn't the most perfect soul but he was her equal team member this was the wake up call he needed It couldn't be just her busting her butt while he stayed up working on material and working at the coffee plant later on when she would have time to eat after working a double shift. "I'm sorry" He said barely above a whisper as she ran her hands through his curly hair pressing herself against him before wrapping her arms around his neck nestling her face into his neck, "steph don't you walk out that door.." he shook he couldn't calm himself down at this point but her touch seemed to be calming him down little by little it was true their relationship was crumbling and the only attempt at this he knew was two things it had been clear she had been talking to Jess, her father.  whom had given her some options of course this didn't surprise him, It didn't surprise Lindsey any more that she couldn't talk to him without the pair getting up in each-other's faces time and time again. he wanted to eventually marry her and to start a family with in the near future how many times had he pressed and she wasn't ready, they ween't even secure with money at this point she had told him that time and time again.Oh mirror in the sky what is love can the child in my heart rise above?Of course he was questioning if he woke up tomorrow would she still be laying next to him at night or would she be gone? would she move back home, would she go back to college and forget about him or the coffee plant where Lindsey's dad had graciously allowed the couple to record demos for the duet album. surviving without her was the last thing he wanted to do she kept his head above water supported him with his addiction to Marijuana, if that meant surviving without her that meant having to fend for himself. " Curls, say something please? say something.."she hugged him tighter he squeezed her back keeping his arms around her petite waist "okay..I can't what if you do leave.." Stevie pulled back using her thumb to make the male's blue hues to look at her "Lindsey Adams, I don't want to leave I love you you know that baby.I just maybe.. but, i am not leaving you."Well well, the landslide will bring it down.


10/14/2021 12:43 PM 

Old Characters

Jayne King/Wyatt KingSebastian Rogers

✇ 𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓑𝓲𝓻𝓭 ✇

10/13/2021 11:53 PM 

Hunting a Nightmare: Starter for War Torn

  Hunting a Nightmare Phoenix Down Resources /1234567 Somtimes to find a monster you must do the unthinkable. Desperation makes you do things you never imagined. It had been two months since Aria had returned home, Hydra still hot on her trail when her mother Natasha finally found her after missing for three years. The young woman had been largely confined to the Avengers compound in New York since she had returned, and the cabin fever was definitely setting in. Tony and Bruce had been working tirelessly to find answers in safely removing the chip Hydra had implanted in Arias brain without killing her, but it was slow going. Until they had answers, the compound was the only place they knew she would be safe.Of course, nothing was that easy. Safe was only a facade in her mind, the nightmares keeping her far from feeling at ease despite the fact she had finally stopped running. The others had known for a while now something was wrong. More than just trauma from what Hydra had done. Her mother could see there was something else there. Something darker.Natasha wasn't wrong. The nightmares were not what everyone assumed, and Aria had reached a point where she knew she needed to face them, needed to face him. Waiting for a moment where she wasn't under watch was not as easy as she had hoped. She was 20 now, but the others saw her as fragile and broken. Like she needed to be watched and protected. She was only 16 when she vanished, and despite being matured far beyond her years growing up with Natasha, she could feel the way they looked at her. They still saw her as a child, that little girl who Natasha saved from the Red Room when she was only five years old.Natasha, Steve, Tony, and Bruce had been finally called out on an overseas assignment, one that would keep them away for a couple of weeks. Natasha spent the day before making sure Aria promised not to leave the compound. It broke her heart to lie to her, she didn't deserve that, but for what Aria planned to do, had to do, there was no choice."I will be ok, I promise. Just come home safe ok?" The young woman said, wrapping her arms around the widow in a tight embrace."I will. Stay in touch." Natasha replied before the four boarded a quinjet and took off from the hanger bay. Aria would wait one hour before she would leave the compound. She knew Tony would have put trackers on all the transport vehicles, so time was not on her side. The minute they got back, or worse Friday alerted Tony that she had left the compound, the clock would start.Eight hours later, rubber wheels made contact with the dusty sand of a field a few miles outside of Berlin. Nerves ran rampant throughout the girl knowing what she was about to do was either going to make her a fugitive, get her killed, or worse get caught by Hydra. But it was the only choice she had to stop the nightmares and hopefully get a handle on her abilities once more.Getting into the Berlin correctional facility was the easiest part. Aria had finally taken and passed her agents exam for SHIELD, the very test she was supposed to take the day Hydra had kidnapped her. While her access was moderately restricted given the situation, it was easy to distract the guard with casual conversation as she flashed her credentials."I need to see Baron Zemo. He has some information that may be useful in a case I'm working on.""Zemo? He's been here for years. What possible information could he have?""Sorry, I cannot discuss the details of the case. You know, classified and all." Aria replied casually, flashing a friendly smile as the german tongue flowed easily from her lips. Natasha had taught her many things over the years, and Aria was grateful learning multiple languages was one of them.As the guard led her down the hallway, Aria focused on keeping her mind calm and thoughts organized. Focus was the biggest challenge for her since she had returned, the nightmares causing her powers to lash out not only in her sleep but during her daily routine as well. As long as she didn't allow the memories to surface, she would be in control."You have a visitor Baron." The guard said, banging his baton on the bars. Aria dismissed the guard and took a breathe before sapphire eyes shifted to the criminal in the cell. Baron Helmut Zemo, the man who not only knew how to tear apart the Avengers but also managed to trigger the Hydra code words deep in Buckys mind. Clearly, he was a man who knew a great deal of Hydra, and could possibly be the one person who could help her find him. Created by Patriot

papa smurf,

10/13/2021 10:46 PM 

AC 13.

"Mick, I need to know that your loyalty is with us. We need to know that your loyalty is with us."Mick's gaze lifted up to Phoebe as she corrected herself and it became clear to him that Sophia sent her to him, in hopes of reaching a softer side. Perhaps, in hopes of possibly getting him to recommit to them, by thinking she would be the one to get the answer out of him, given their past. What Sophia hadn't counted on, was Mick's misplaced frustration and blame about Milo. She didn't know that he blamed the leaders as much as he blamed himself, but not quite as much as he blamed Thatcher. Time and time again, he had spoken out against Thatcher, and time and time again, they turned a blind eye because he could never be the monster Mick and a few others made him out to be. Until he showed them that he was entirely capable of becoming so much more. Now, they were asking for Mick to recommit his loyalty to the bastards who allowed him to keep breathing.Staring at the blonde before him, he felt at ease. Calm. Not that it had anything to do with the present company, but more of the workshops he went to, strictly out of boredom. They stressed forgiveness and inner peace. Mick finally found the key to his forgiveness was to find his inner peace and he was only going to find that peace one way. With vengeance. For the first time since Milo's death, Mick stopped relying so heavily on the bottle and put all that energy into one thing - killing Thatcher. Of course, he couldn't do that when so much of Thatcher was right where he was. Thatcher was stitched into the heart of The Organization, so to get to him, he needed to stay. Milo needed him to stay."So, Mick. Where does your loyalty lie?"With Milo. Those words were on the tip of his tongue, but he bit them back so he didn't instill fear within the leaders. Straightening his posture, his throat clearing, he looked at Phoebe and chewed on the inside of his cheek. Everything inside of him wanted to lash out at her and repeatedly beat the fact that none of this would have happened had they taken action sooner, into her skull. Instead, he swallowed his pride, looked her dead in the eyes, and forced a cordial smile, "My loyalty is with The Organization." A lie that pushed him one step towards his peace.


10/13/2021 04:06 PM 


People hate being forced out of their comfort zones. They hate anything that challenges their core beliefs and the way things should be. Perhaps that was why he found himself alone most of the time these days; it seemed that everyone he had come to love had left him, and those who hadn’t completely left had distanced themselves from him to avoid the situation completely. He supposed he could understand why. It was easier for people to look at him and see a monster than it would be for them to look at her and see one. It was easier for the people who had known the both of them to believe that he could be the one to blame. He had never tried to hide the darkness under the surface of what was a genuinely cheerful person, never shied away from his own faults and demons. Perhaps it was that willingness to be honest and open that had proved to be his downfall in the end. It was uncomfortable for anyone who looked at them to believe that perhaps he had been the one made into a victim. Hell, it was uncomfortable for him to come to terms with that line of thought. He couldn’t so much as bring himself to say the word abuse aloud to other people, no matter how often the reminders of it floated around his head. Instead of standing his ground, he’d let them all go, let them believe whatever it was they were going to believe. Any word he said against it, any proof he would try to bring forward in his own defense would only confirm his guilt in their mind. So he didn’t defend himself, and let them all walk away with hatred inside of them for him. They were going to believe what they wanted to in the end. They were going to believe whatever they were most comfortable with. He should have spoken up when he’d had the chance. He should have offered to open up about what had happened to him, get his side of the story out before she had the chance to take all that she had done to him and twist it until she was the abused, and he the abuser. But now it was too late. Someday soon, she’d tire of playing her games with the people they had known and bring it to all the people who had once had their eyes on him. Just as she had once tired of playing her games with him. He would wake up one day and be hated by everyone. After all, people hate being forced out of their comfort zones, and you should always believe the victim.

🐙 cutє'hulhu 🐙

10/13/2021 08:40 AM 

E n T h r a l l . [Latest Ver.]

    Sweetest credits goes to Aza-Vela for the lovelylittle poem at the end of this entry.Thank you so much, you sexy wordsmith. 💚E n T h r a l l       Death may perhaps be too easy a toll one must pay. With that notion mused well, It has no desire to simply exact it as punishment for... transgressions. It, a heavenly horror or a hellish sky-spawn hailing beyond the borders of the known cosmos.      It is a Visitor. Its privileges to challenge those within the higher domains of existence are woefully limited. Restrictions put indiscriminately by certain powerful laws of reality. They safeguard along with those at the highest of the Cosmic Pantheon who sanction and sustain them the indescribable expanse of life and death, order and chaos, matter and energy, concretes and concepts, space and time.      It understands the need for it, death. Not all is eternal. Far from it. Whether it is shorter than a single wing-beat of a hummingbird or as enduring as a star promenading its eons of effulgence until fading into the void surrounding it, the sensation and the breath of life differs from what and who. And in the final chapter, when the last stroke or spot of ink is penned on the book of life, it ends... and death waits to welcome the transition.      But to use it as a definitive sentence to express contempt, infinitesimal or colossal, is dull for the odd otherworldly and unnatural being. However, in a different fashion, the Visitor may have been privy to cheat the employment of death as an alternative of unconditional penance. Death can be kept at bay, should one account to nature being disgraced with callousness and a smile.      But enough about abstracts requiring divine wisdom to fathom. It, the Visitor, is moseying around in a forest that men dared to plunder. But to their grief, powers older than their ancestors reside, do take notice and go well at work to fend off... looters. Greedy minds and hands bearing fire and steel to amass resources and consume it like a locust horde on a verdant field, they have been. O, do they deserve not just a sermon but something more vindictive and more visceral that their bodies and minds can recall the severity of their own misdeeds until their days are spent. Men can trek the city ripe with fertile soil, healthy logs and wholesome beasts, yes. But to pluck the riches with no discipline may lead to the forest being their sudden grave.      Moonlight lends radiance on the quiet lake, leaving it to glimmer quite glamorously. The night sky is clear enough to see the civilization of fiery dots and spots; immeasurable in distance these countless twinkling tenants, the brilliance seen are the portraits of their past, equally immeasurable in age.      The Visitor is garbed in a thick battered black cloak from head to heel. Threads look frayed like the soiled skirt of a once prominent princess after her kingdom is torn and as her life is then plunged into that of a prized whore. The open hood may welcome the gaze of another with its abyss for a face. How can one meet another without a considerable façade or perhaps one made out of restless shadows? It is a sore for the mind, if not deemed well perhaps over a hot tea or a fine toke of the pipe.      The Visitor breaks forward stride to be at a wide rocky bank. The hall of trees is behind It. Soon, It stops as Its bony feet are kissing the shallows of the great cold canvas where fish and their gill-born ilk live in. There is no breeze to ruffle the surface, but Its journeying pair did make the surface ripple a bit.      There are many splendors this world offers, pondered on by the cloaked one. One of them is how the practice of the Mystic Arts for display, for wisdom and for gain. It has learned a few. The means to move things without holding them. Conjure unseen walls to deflect harm. Reconstitute and reshape soil, water and air into marvels that will leave jaws drop. Use them to delight, to deceit and to devastate.      But there is another Art. This one presents blasphemy to both life and sath. Necromancy, the designation of the enchanted art. It bodes ill for those with a sense of moral inclination, straight and steep or shallow and swerved. Even more so, what or who the art is bestowed upon.      On the same rocky bank, a few yards to Its left, there is a corpse lying on its side. A man who has spent the last hours in his life in pain. Signs of savage swordplay are on his arms and on his chest. What crows may have flown away, they pecked on his face and took an eye. What legion of maggots there are on the ground, they feast on his rancid remains, making a lair in his bowels. How fortuitous. A way to test Its sinister spellcraft.      It turns to face the carcass in bloodied clothing. The Visitor raises a hand. No flesh. The gray bones of the withered fingers creak as they become less and less crooked but desire none to be straight. The pointless reach is made to be directed at the lifeless loner. From Its blackness, deep, brooding and croaking, It hisses away a set of unsavory words, if they can even be considered words. Hag and hermit by the tens in callous choir and had smoked the pipe for decades, It proceeds in uttering to banish silence. The sinister song is an incantation. It has nary the intent to provide comprehension for men to drink with their ears, the lacerating language.      Ten seconds had passed since the ill speech began.      Moan. Groan. The wrinkled lips of the corpse move. His body jolts, head and limbs crackle. The Visitor takes a step forward. The outstretched hand guides the sorcery It is conjuring to bring about this morbid moment into reality, a repulsive one at that. The man slowly helps himself to sit down. Wounds that have helped nurse his miserable fate are ignored. The hundreds—perhaps thousands—of little flesh-eaters in him, their gluttonous banquet of him is too ignored. He soon rises to his feet, one missing a shoe while the other is still with him but it worn out enough to see those horrid wriggling toes. Groan. Moan.      No joy. No woe. No rage. No proper thought. Perhaps there is calm. A calm that feels unnatural. Whether the raggedy man with unsightly wounds and short unkempt hair has his consciousness or not, it does not matter. He is a puppet. A puppet with strings. The string is sorcery. The sorcery wielded by a puppeteer. The puppeteer, this Visitor. How ghastly... and gorgeous.      “Dark tidings,” It said with Its many hoarse voices in tandem, one that can belong to an unholy abomination that should not ever be privy to walk this earth for the good of many. Alas, It does and It does more than just mosey and mingle.      “Walk with me.”      The living corpse keeps groaning. The Visitor departs from the bank with Its companion in pursuit with stumbling legs. The bony fingers wave, each soon clenching into a fist while It puts the hand down to Its side. This deed allows the unseen string to have better control of Its... thrall. Yes. This man is now a thrall. A living toy. Living. How cruel a joke. This is no way to live. A slave to unholy sorcery, flesh and bones waiting to be commanded to do the bidding of another, even so by one that is perhaps awfully unkind.      Back into the forest they go, the wicked Visitor and Its ugly thrall. The night is young. Much can be done before dawn, whether it is to the comfort of anyone who crosses paths with them or not. The bastion of bark and beasts has nothing ill towards the Visitor, even with what blood-cooling sinister sensation It may bring. It actually is one of the old powers safeguarding these woods, perhaps other great halls of trees somewhere out there too.  Dearest Death, to hell with thee.Life shall stay, can thou not see?Renew a breath with remedy.Bittersweet... Necromancy.    


10/13/2021 11:18 PM 

Activity Check #13 - Recommit

"Are you still interested..."Sophia's words blurred as he turned to face the window. He knew what she was going to ask. It had to be about him. Carter couldn't answer any questions about Thatcher. He just couldn't. Realizing he had trusted Thatcher made him feel sick to his stomach. Yet, deep down, he still felt like he needed to protect Thatcher because he had been there for Carter when no one else was. "Carter? Are you still interested in recommitting yourself to us?" Sophia repeated. This time Carter heard her entire question.He was somewhat relieved that she hadn't asked about Thatcher. "I am," he said with an eager nod. His foot tapped against the carpet nervously. Sophia had been instrumental in Carter joining Sanctum in the first place. He had met her at a party, and referred him to Thatcher to help start his business. Carter didn't meet Thatcher till a conference, but he felt like Sophia, Thatcher, and Phoebe had been like his family.Carter still felt guilty for clinging to Thatcher like a loyal follower. Despite the thread of hope Carter held onto that Thatcher could be redeemed, he owed his loyalty to Sophia and Phoebe, not Thatcher. Right now, they needed him and the other members to show their support. After the self-reflection workshop, Carter realized this. He would be nothing without the Organization."I am very glad to hear that," Sophia smiled in his direction. Carter had given up many secrets when he joined the Organiztion, but he never thought of it that way. He believed his secrets were safer with the Organization than with other people. They would only expose his secrets if he betrayed the Organization, and that wasn't something he planned on doing. Carter wasn’t fond of that week, but he felt like it had given him the guidance he needed.

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