papa smurf,

Last Login:
September 26th, 2021

Gender: Male

Age: 27
Country: United States

Signup Date:
November 11, 2016



09/19/2021 05:51 PM 

AC 11.

He's gone. The moment Sophia insinuated that Thatcher's presence was erased from their lives forever, Mick knew better than to let relief overcome him. They were weeks out of the forest already, but he still found himself looking over his shoulder and walking with caution. He felt unsafe at every turn of the corner, a new feeling that he hadn't learned to cope with. Since moving to Seattle, Thatcher had been the man behind every negative experience Mick has had, but nothing beat the time in the forest. The helplessness. Being stranded and spending days away from Milo was something that he didn't take kindly to.

Aside from the constant worry of his son's whereabouts while they were out there, Mick also realized that there were a lot of things that he took for granted. For instance, a warm shower, or even just the ability to shower all together. In the privacy of his home, the warm shower was something he took full advantage of, considering he didn't have the luxury of showering for a week prior to that. Food, clean clothes, the television, his gaming setup, and being able to drink clean water were only a few things that Mick learned to spend a couple seconds more appreciating. Above all else, he found himself enjoying the time he had with Milo a little more than normal. Call it fear or call it catching up on missed time, but Mick learned to hate letting Milo out of his sight. Every time he does, something ends up going wrong in some sort of way.

Thatcher leaving Seattle was long overdue, but kept Mick on edge more so than when he was right there in his backyard. At least he had an idea of where he was. Now, no one knew much of anything about where he was and he doubted he could get it out of Phoebe if she knew, so he was stuck knowing next to nothing about the man who had put a target on his back multiple times. Even in his absence, Thatcher's presence still seemed to linger.

08/22/2021 03:44 PM 

AC 09.

"Sophia, it has been way too long." Mick spread his arms to welcome her into his establishment, "We aren't open yet. You're about an hour early, but always welcome." Dropping his arms to his side, a smile curving his lips, he offered her a seat at his bar and moved to the other side to get her a drink. She had said nothing, but her smile only mirrored his as she took the seat he offered and set her purse on the bar top. There was a comfortable silence between them as he popped open a bottle of champagne and poured her a glass.

"So, Mick. How has everything been? I know things have been a little rough all around, but I heard about Milo and his eye. How is he doing? Is there anything that we can help with?" The way she spoke made it hard for a naive person to spot the probing she was doing, but Mick was far from naive. Playing out of the loop or, for a lack of a better word, dumb was his go to manipulation tactic. Making sure the bubbles settled in her drink before he set the champagne glass in front of her, he sighed and leaned against his palms that gripped the edge of the bar.

Is there anything that we can help with? Mick wanted nothing more than to spout off at the mouth about Thatcher, but what good would that do? Thatcher pointed the finger at Sophia, saying she was the reason they were thrown in the basement, but Mick didn't believe that. He couldn't believe that. Sophia was the only good thing about the people who ran the place. There was a certain level of trust that he had with her that he didn't have with the other leaders. She never had ill intentions and he refuses to believe otherwise. Teeth digging into the side of his cheek, he worried about expressing the truth of the situation, because it could possibly put her in harm's way. He knew she couldn't have known who took Milo's eye, because there would've been severe consequences..right? Of course. Straightening his stance, he rearranged the shot glasses in front of him and gave her the best smile he could muster up, "Milo is healin' like a champ. You have done more than enough by paying for his surgeries and the infection and whatnot. I really appreciate it. You went out of your way when you didn't have to. I wish more.." of the other leaders, "people were like you." The comment seemed to put her at ease enough to reach for her glass and take a sip. Mick watched her and flipped over a shot glass, fillin it to the brim with whiskey. Lifting it in her direction to cheers, he grinned and pressed the shot glass to his lips and threw it back, the liquid coursing a warm path down his throat as he thought of every way he would make Thatcher pay for what he had done.

Mick was pacing the waiting room in the hospital, both hands interlocked on the back of his head. Tears formed at the brim of his eyes, threatening to spill over. He wasn't sad, he wasn't worried, he was angry. Anger consumed his entire being and swallowed up any rational thought that kept him anchored. This was his fault. He crossed Thatcher and Thatcher retaliated by going after Milo. The man had no boundaries and Mick had problems with his pride. His ego was challenged, his son was attacked, and he was humiliated. Again.

Thatcher, in just a few months time, became cancerous to Mick. He latched onto Mick's conscience and laid eggs in the darkest corners of his mind, where his insecurities festered. It was infectious, it was manipulative, and it was eating him alive to know that his greatest enemy was essentially untouchable. So, when Mick saw Thatcher making his way through the hospital, his rage overtook him, "What the f*** are you doing here?" Straightening his stance, chest puffed out slightly and hands clenched in fists, Mick stood his ground as the male approached.

"I'd heed the warning on the note, Mick." There was a pause, the words hanging between them. It was an acknowledgement that Thatcher was aware of the situation and even had a hand in it. Something that Mick knew, but just got confirmation on. There was the smallest sign of a smug smirk on Thatcher's face as he slipped his hands into the pocket of his pants, "I came to check on the smallest Baker boy. I would hate it if anything else happened to him. Sophia was alerted immediately and she insisted that I come down here to make sure you guys didn't need anything and to cover the bill for you." The emphasis on the last word echoed through Mick's mind as he stared at Thatcher, making no connection to the words that fell from his mouth. They were at odds and Mick just wanted to get even.

The thoughts racing through Mick's mind tried to connect to form some kind of sentence, but they couldn't. He couldn't. All he could do was stare as the unspoken threats enabled his imagination to read between the lines. The two men stared at each other, both refusing to back down. This was the ultimate d*ck measuring contest. Chest rapidly rising and falling, Mick softened his stance after a few moments and against his will, his body language showed slight signs of retreating. Through gritted teeth, Mick spat his words as calmly as he could, "We don't need anything from you...guys. Pay the bill and we can call it even." He wanted Thatcher to know he knew and he wanted Thatcher to know that he was going to come for him, eventually. Thatcher hit close to home, so it was only a matter of time before Mick got his revenge.
Pulling his shirt over his body, Mick smoothed out the wrinkles before running his fingers through his hair. His pants were still laying across the ground, covering the heels of the one and only, Phoebe Fox. Mick had no attachment to the gal, but only saw her as a means to getting what he wanted. And what he wanted was to get under Thatcher's skin.

The affair started in the woods when she had made her way down there to talk to the group about the issues revolving around Thatcher. That might not have been the intended reason for her visit, but it was definitely what it turned into. One thing turned into another and before he knew it, they were both bumpin' uglies in the cabin while everyone was out and about. Greed, vengeance, and manipulation fueled their lust and sparked their desire.

" one can know about this. I hate having to remind you, but.." And there it was. The unspoken words. It must have been a Fox trait, because neither of them could say what they meant. There always seemed to be a double meaning to everything. Glancing over at Phoebe with a knowing smile, Mick snatched his pants from the ground and worked them up his legs. Standing up, he daringly reached over and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. Their eyes met and her hand lifted to wrap around his wrist, a wicked smile tugging at the corner of her lips, "You know our deal. Information, therapy sex, and then you're out. You know what Thatcher would do to either of us..or even what Sophie would do." Flicking her head to the side lightly, he rolled his eyes and laughed lightly, sitting down and shoving his feet into his shoes.

"Thatcher can f*** the hell right off." He spoke under his breath, the words barely audible by himself and he let out a deep sigh as he stood up, "Alright, Phoebe. It's been fun, as always. I'll come back with whatever new info I can get on everyone. But I expect you to do that..thing again. You're more flexible than I gave you credit for." A smirk played his lips as he headed back towards the door and turned back to her, "I'll see you next week, Phoebe." Giving a partial wave, he stepped out of her office and walked away, feeling the same way he had felt about her when he was walking out of that cabin weeks ago. Absolutely nothing.

08/06/2021 06:53 PM 

AC 08.

1. How do they handle happiness, anger, disappointment, and love?

Mick handles his happiness with a great deal of doubt. When things are going well, he is constantly on edge wondering how long it will last. He has the mindset of nothing good ever lasting. Eventually his impatience gets the best of him and his happiness turns into irritation, because if he already has negative feelings about it, then he can at least say he knew it would happen. When it comes to anger, Mick handles that very poorly. He lashes out at the closest person to him without giving much thought to how they will feel. Very rarely does it get physical, due to the fact that most people break it up before it can, but he isn't one to ever back down from a fight. Disappointment is handled by him drowning in self loathing. He knows what he has done wrong and he has no problem admitting it to himself, but coming to terms with the reality of it is a very different thing. His disappointment eventually turns into anger, where he, once again, lashes out without any thought of the consequences. Love, being the fickle thing it is, often confuses Mick. When he first experiences genuine love, he goes through a certain amount of anger with himself for letting it get to that point. For letting someone get that close. Eventually, the anger dissolves into pure bliss and he fully commits himself to the relationship. For as much hate and anger he is capable of, he is just as able to feel love that much, if not more.

2. How do they respond to someone outside of Sanctum asking questions about The Organization? Make this realistic.

Being the kind of person he is, Mick would struggle with answering. Part of him would hate for it to get back to the leaders if he said something out of pocket, which he probably would, but then another part of him would feel disgusted to drag anyone into The Organization under false information. He would keep his answers short and to the point, without making anything sound too glorious. If they get a couple drinks in him, all bets are off and Mick is telling them to get as far away as possible as soon as possible.

3. How do they respond to attacks on their character?

He immediately gets defensive and responds back, usually in a nasty way. When he feels slighted, he tends to let his ass get ahead of his mouth and he hits below the belt. The only thing he cares about at that moment is stroking his ego. Many times, he doesn't give a second thought to the feelings of those he is verbally assaulting.

4. Where, in their background, do their reactions to the above things (and everything else you mention) come from? Meaning, why do they do the things they do?

Mick is the way he is, because his mother was his main role model. She used manipulation to get what she wanted and the anger that she held against his father was unmatched. All the worst parts of her are what Mick became, in his own sick and twisted way. Nearly every emotion and every feeling he has is just a clear path to anger for him. He is angry for the lack of father that he had, he is angry for the overall lack of good parenting he had, and he is angry for seeing his flaws and not being able to change. He exists as a ball of anger, because his mother never taught him how to cope any other way.

07/25/2021 04:35 PM 

AC 07.

"Tell me what you learned in the woods."

I learned that your husband is a bloodthirsty, raging lunatic who uses the people of the Organization as pawns. This is a chess game and everyone else seems to be playing checkers. Mick's lips twitched at the words that threatened to spew out, but with a deep sigh he swallowed back his urge to word vomit and just met her gaze instead. His hands had a mind of their own as they felt along the denim pockets of his pants in search of his flask, but when he came up empty handed, he couldn't help the slight pout that tugged at his lips.

"What's wrong Mick? You didn't seem to need liquid courage during our last..session." Her voice was calm and soft, but he could hear a slight hesitation on her end as she tried to find the right word to pinpoint what happened during their last..session. The unspoken words hung between them, walking the tightrope of tension as the pair sat there without a break in eye contact. Their last session didn't weigh too heavily on his mind, because he knew that both of them had walked out of there with a mission of their own accomplished. Much like his own unspoken words, this was a chess match. Thatcher made his move when he went after Milo, now Mick could either forfeit and retreat in defeat, or take advantage of the situation at hand. He had the advantage, because Thatcher left his queen vulnerable and open for the taking.

Phoebe's eyes mirrored the same desire that Mick's held, and when he lunged forward, she didn't stop him. When he slapped the notebook from her hand with the pen following suit, she didn't stop him, and when his lips immediately found hers, she didn't push him away, but responded with a heated kiss of her own, molding her mouth around his own. Their desire and hunger in that moment wasn't rooted in lust but motivated by their personal agendas to get ahead. Phoebe needed the loyalty Mick provided and Mick needed to soothe his pride by one upping Thatcher. It was a dangerous game to play with serious repercussions, but they put consequences on the back burner and tossed away any worry with one article of clothing at a time.

King takes Queen. Your move, Thatcher.

"Remember..if this gets out.." Mick waved Phoebe off before she could finish her sentence and he pulled his shirt back over his frame. As much as she didn't want it getting out, neither did he. There were certain people in his life that he would like to exclude from their inner circle. No one outside of the two of them needed to know what was going on, but he knew he was just prolonging the inevitable. Zipping up his jeans and smoothing the outlined evidence of her fingers in his hair, Mick glanced over at Phoebe who was already dressed and crawling around on the ground to gather the loose papers scattered around her otherwise tidy office. Headed towards the door to leave, he stopped with his hand on the knob and he turned his head to look back at her, "To answer your question..about what I learned in the woods?" There was a brief pause before a small smile flickered across his features, "I learned how to play chess."

06/27/2021 10:24 PM 

AC 05.

Mick had spent the better part of the past couple of days in the hospital after discovering that someone had gouged out one of his son's eyes. Milo had been in and out of surgery, and Mick had been busy threatening the lives of every doctor who even came close to insinuating that there wasn't much that they were able to do.

"He didn't choose to be caught in the middle of any of this. You figure out a way to put that eye in his socket or I will rip yours from your socket."

In retrospect, threatening the doctor who was working tirelessly to save his son from a lifetime of torment - which was apparently Mick's role in his life - and teasing by putting the eye back into the socket. While everything was going on behind the scenes, Mick was in the waiting room, sitting impatiently. He hadn't slept or eaten since he arrived, which left his mental state in a weak and vulnerable place. That mixed with the recent loss of his mother seemed to be a playground for the demons in his head.

His ma. She would have had words for him had she been around to experience the tom foolery that had just taken place. Mick's father not being around was something that, as much as he hated to admit, pained him. Pained him almost to the point of driving him to madness. After that, he figured he could handle anything. But no loss in the world could have prepared him for losing the only person in the world who had ever loved him unconditionally. Everything good in Mick was his mother. Losing her meant losing the best part of himself and he wasn't sure how he was supposed to cope with that, especially since her death was his fault. Had he not gotten caught up in the obsession of bloodshed, then she would still be there and Milo would still be able to see out of both eyes. There was an unsettling feeling in his stomach as he leaned forward to try to steady his breathing. The realization of him being to blame hadn't hit him until this very moment. It was his fault that his mom was gone. Hunched over, hands over his ears as Milo's scream from that night echoed, piercing his eardrums. His fingers clawed at his ears to try to drown out the sound and he squeezed his eyes shut to try to shut out the blurred image that began to make itself clear. The image of his mother's dead body lying on the floor next to a teary eyed Milo, who could barely comprehend what was going on while simultaneously needing more therapy as the time went by. Trying to steady his breathing while having a full melt down in one of the chairs in the waiting room, Mick fell to the ground and rocked himself slowly as a tear fell down his cheek and he whispered, "Ma, I need you.."

06/13/2021 11:02 PM 

AC 04.

"Mick, it is absolutely your f***ing fault we're in here."

Zoe's words slithered their way around his neck and slowly started to suffocate him until he had no choice but to confront the truth in her words. The logical side of him knew that there was no way in hell his actions would have landed a whole hoard of them in the basement like some Anne Frank mock up, but logic was a luxury that started to slip as the air in the room seemed to thin and sanity started to to escape through the cracks of the basement. Maybe that walking twat stick was onto something. What if he was the reason they were all there?

Mick's body was slouched against the wall and deprived of water, energy, and the will to even exist. He was put in this position because of his own f*** ups, which was an easy pill to swallow, but what caused the lump in his throat was thinking about the helpless devil child he left on the outside to fend for himself. Was Milo left on his own? Did he wake up in the middle of the night when Mick was taken? Did he watch it? Was he scared? Questions looped through his mind tirelessly and the most frustrating part was that he did not have an answer for any of them. All he could do was hope the leaders had a sliver of compassion for the kids who were left behind.

"You f***ing idiot." His voice was somewhere between a whisper and a whistle as his dry lips cracked and parted for the first time in days. Maybe this could have all been avoided if Mick had not spiked those drinks with bad meth as some school yard plot to get back at a bully. To take it a step further, this could have all been possibly avoided if Mick did not snap at Thatcher in the group text because he let his anger get the best of him. Even with the burden of his actions, there was no way in hell the leaders found this to be an appropriate punishment. Mick already got his ass kicked and his ego challenged for putting Zoe in the hospital, lying about spiking the drinks, and mouthing off to Thatcher. This could not be a continuation of consequences for him, especially since he could care less about what could happen to the others; only about what could happen to Milo. And if anything happened to Milo, then this punishment was only a stepping stone to something worst.

09/09/2020 06:36 PM 

AC 190.

"Mick, what are you doing out here with no shoes on? Why haven't you eaten anything? You look horrible. Do you really want Milo to see you like this?"

"Milo.."Mick repeated the name in quiet murmurs until his eyes blinked open. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but he damn sure wasn't expecting to be stranded out in the middle of the f***ing woods. He swore it was a dream. Looking around, half expecting to see his scolding mother, but when he didn't, his body slumped down in disappointment. That only meant that what he thought was a dream was really just a sh*tty nightmare of a reality. He was stranded in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of Sloane-ians who have nothing better to do than start drama amongst themselves. This was high school to them and they never grew up.

Sitting straight up, his head dizzy from the lack of nutrients in his body, he looked around and found himself surrounded by nothing but dirt and trees. Looking at his feet that were stretched out in front of him, he tilted his head slightly and mumbled through cracked, dehydrated lips, "Where the f*** are my shoes?" Weakly pushing himself onto his feet, he ignored the sticks and leaves that were poking at the pads, and he stumbled forward in any direction that didn't make him put forth much effort. Eventually, he came across the rest of the camp site and he stopped along the outskirts of it, just staring. He was slightly swaying back and forth, his body's way of keeping some kind of balance as he stared. His tent caught his eye and there was the smallest sense of sadness before it withered away and turned into anger just like every other emotion. "F***." There was no one around to respond to him but his own echo and Mick just took shaky breaths in to try to steady himself.

"Just take the knife from your back pocket and end it. Just do it. Milo will be better off, I'll be better off, and we all will be better off."

Turning his head to the voice he was hearing, his brows furrowed and his mouth parted slightly, "M-Mom, what are you doing here?" She didn't say anything back, but instead she pointed to his back pocket where the butt of his pocket knife was sticking out. Brushing his fingers along the outline of his knife, he thought for a moment, pulling his knife out completely. Holding it out in front of him, he twirled it between his fingertips and lightly danced the blade across his wrist. He could easily end it. She was right. Milo would be f***ing hurt, but he would eventually get over it because he was a strong kid. A good kid and he deserved more than what Mick was constantly putting through. She was right. Lifting his eyes back to where she was, his brows furrowed in confusion. Placing the blade to his wrist, he applied pressure and closed his eyes, wanting it to be over. His mom was right, this was the only way.

And mama knows best.

08/26/2020 11:09 PM 

AC 188.

Goddamn it was hot. Mick had a love/hate relationship with this mid year heat. He loved it, because it gave him and Milo an excuse to swim around and take trips to the lake, but he hated it, because it was close to impossible to get cooler without running up some kind of bill. At least during winter you can throw on some sweaters and get under blankets then you're all cuddled up and warm.

"Dad, are you coming?" Looking over at his little mini, who was covered in sunscreen, that called out to him and Mick shot him a grin as he finished rubbing in the rest of his own sunscreen. Milo was running towards the lake, dipping his feet in first, before throwing his entire body into the water. There was a laugh that fell from Mick's lips as he chased after him and launched himself into the murky waters.

This was what their summer had consisted of this year. Normally they were somewhere on the beach, toes in the sand, beer in hand, and apple juice for the younger of the two, but not this year. Sloane changed a lot of things for them, one of them being their summer routines. Instead, they substituted the blues of the ocean with the murky lake water that hugged the outskirts of the town. Milo didn't seem to mind the change as much as Mick did, but they still managed to make it a daily thing. It was their thing. Their 'bonding' thing, because that's what people do when they have kids. Especially kids who are out of school for the summer. They bond with them and sh*t like that.

Splashing Milo with water before slipping under the surface, Mick swam under him, just barely missing the kicking of Milo's feet as he tried to swim away. Almost choking on water as he resurfaced, Mick laughed as he was met with a splash of vengeance, "Hey!" As the water between the two of them was thrown back and forth, Mick couldn't help but take a moment and realize, maybe this parenting sh*t wasn't that bad.

08/12/2020 03:56 PM 

AC 186.

Blood. Sex. Alcohol.
"Men are more easily governed through their vices than through their virtues."
From an early age it was pretty clear that Mick found a sense of self worth when it came to righting the injustices of those who he felt were done wrong. Which is why he felt no remorse when it came to ending his dad's life. The man who refused to claim him and be a part of his life. The man that he thanked for helping him find his one true love in life, blood. From that moment on, Mick craved the rush that came with taking a life. The warmth of the blood as it pooled in the palm of his hand. It gave him an adrenaline rush and it fueled the monster within. He was a stereotypical addict, but he liked to play God.

Mick got off on the last breath of his victims. His sex drive was one of the many results from his "heinous" act. After every hunt, there is a good chance he'll be on the hunt for some kind of sexual release, which gets him caught up in more than one messy situation. He couldn't help the feeling of being aroused, but he didn't fight it either.

Much like everyone else, Mick knew the difference between right and wrong. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but it felt right. There was still a small, very small, but still present, voice in his head that shamed his every move. Tried to guilt him into thinking he was doing something wrong--illegal, and although he was, he didn't want to hear it. Some days, he couldn't look at himself in the mirror and face the person he was. It was as if he had one long moment of insanity, with brief periods of clarity. He knew his sins, but in moments like that he couldn't face them. When people try to drown their demons, Mick drinks with them. Most nights, alcohol will be present on his breath and his stumbles are a clear indicator that his demons won.

07/29/2020 06:50 PM 

AC 184.


Mick slammed down his controller in frustration as he watched the kill cam on the screen, his game getting the best of him yet again. His mom had taken Milo for the night and Mick took advantage of the free time, deciding to play COD until the sun peeked through the windows. But someone else had other plans. Hearing a knock at the door his eyes went to his phone where he checked the time, "What the f***. Who the f*** is knockin' at my door at one in the morning?" Mumbling to himself as he threw his controller onto the couch beside him, he grunted as he stood and walked on over to the door. Flicking the light on, he unlocked his door and opened it up to reveal a man in his doorway. Quickly taking him in, Mick noted that he stood a good few inches taller than himself and he had broad shoulders that looked like boulders under his shirt and his eyes were empty. Soulless. Almost like looking into his own.

"Who the f*** are yo--" Before he could finish, the man had revealed a bat he hid behind his back and he jammed the barrel of the bat into Mick's gut, rendering him defenseless as the breath left his lungs, his body folding like a lawn chair. Fingertips digging into the frame of the door, Mick had little to no ability to struggle when the man pushed his palm to Mick's forehead and threw him back into the house, stepping over the threshold of the doorway, closing it behind him. There wasn't even as much of a grunt or signs of a struggle when the man picked Mick up and threw him against a wall, causing the picture frames around it to crash to the ground in perfect sync with Mick. Using the wall to slide his body up so he was standing, he looked over at the male before him and spit out a mouthful of blood onto the ground, his breathing coming in short, painful gasps. Both men stood there, face to face, daring the other to make the first move before the male pulled out a gun, pointing it directly at Mick.

"Your mother sends her love."

His mother? His words left Mick stuck. Stunned. There was no f***ing way his mom sent this psycho path after him. She wouldn't do that knowing Milo was with him. Was. This a**hole had to be lying. There's no way she would send someone after him. He was her son. Shaking his head, he spoke quietly, stuttering his words, "N-no. Ther..You have the wrong guy. I..I need to t-talk to her. F***ing call her." This was the first time Mick saw the man break from the stone cold look, only to give him a creepy grin, similar to one of the Chesire cat. One hand on the trigger and the other grabbing a cellphone in his pocket, he dialed a set of numbers before holding the phone up as it rang on the speakerphone.

"Is it done? Did you finish it?"

The blood drained from Mick's face as the voice on the phone rang similar to the one he had known all his life. The one that brought him into the Earth and apparently the one responsible for taking him out of it too. "The jobs almost done, ma'am." There was a pause and Mick could only guess that she was reading the room and realizing that he was right there. She cleared her throat and spoke again, "Mick. I'm so sorry. Milo deserves better." Mick couldn't even to begin to process what was happening before there was a click that ended the call and another click that ended his life.


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