-{ iβve been gone-ish because i needed another mental health break and i have two new rp blogs. one is a multimuse and the other... is a smaller multimuse but different }-
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if i look back, i am lost
Today's Document
Keni
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
$LAYYYTER

pixel skylines
I'd rather be in outer space πΈ

Kaledo Art

Product Placement
YOU ARE THE REASON
trying on a metaphor
cherry valley forever

#extradirty

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@guadnahd
-{ iβve been gone-ish because i needed another mental health break and i have two new rp blogs. one is a multimuse and the other... is a smaller multimuse but different }-

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gellcrtβ:
@guadnahdβΒ //Β AllenΒ said:Β β itβs different for you and me. you study, you become enlightened; i study, i become confused Β β ( meme, not accepting )Β
Allenβs unexpected words yank an inelegant snort out of him, which morphs into a confused sort of laughter.Β studyΒ is not an activity many have accused him of ( for good reason ), and he cannot phantom what gave such an impressionΒ now.
for as certain as it is that Gellert can lose himself in a book until he absorbs it into himself, until each word is committed to his memory as if tattooed there βββββ it is just as certain that it isΒ never a book he was assigned.Β he chooses for himself. it is a great fault of his, one that his more open-minded professors were quick to notice: to be able to absorb all material like a sponge, yet be so discriminate in his choices of study.Β
( well if something or someone does not interest him, why waste his life on them? βββββ this misunderstanding of his character has often lead to undesirable consequences. did he care? not really. because he did it over and over again, chasing personal gratification rather than rewards he could thrust on a school shelf to collect dust. Β )
he never cared about othersβ opinions of him, anyway.Β
Β Β Β Β Β β I βstudyβ enough not to have my fingersΒ turned to bruises again. though I donβt see what is so confusing about it β itβs just soβ¦ boring, wouldnβt you agree? β
Whatever the truth is, it remains that Gellert at least gives the impression of being studious. Itβs enviable, even if it is - in part - a well-crafted facade. Allen himself isnβt a terrible student, but he finds himself stumbling where his comrade makes seemingly effortless strides. But maybe his perception is off. Maybe Gellert isnβt any better off than him.
Or maybe Gellert is just better at selecting his study materials. For a moment, Allen considers the possibility of borrowing his notes. Would that be impolite? He isnβt quite sure. He ruminates on this for just a moment, enjoying the sound of his classmateβs voice. Enjoying his laughter, the words that pour out of him.
βI wish I knew how to explain what is so... confusing about it,β Allen sighs. Truly, he is at a loss.Β βI understand the theory in... theory, but putting it to practice...β
A pause. He finally smiles. Finally laughs, though tentative.
βYouβre right. It is boring. Maybe we ought to drop out?β
'why donβt you stay here? '
βOh, Irene, I...β
Couldnβt, he wants to say. Couldnβt burden her, couldnβt be a bother, couldnβt take up spaceΒ any more than he already has. But the words catch in his throat, stuck fast as though some invisible force is hellbent on making him be polite. Be empathetic. Consider her feelings.
In a way, his lack of a presence in her life was more of a burden than any overnight stay at her home could ever be. He knows this, doesnβt need the voice in the back of his head to remind him of his past transgressions. He smiles, his tired eyes crinkling at the edges.
βIβd love that. Thank you.β
π¬π¨ππ ππ§π π¬πΒ \Β sentence starter pack,Β i.Β feel free to change wordingΒ \Β pronouns as you see fit.Β
donβt go.Β
please, donβt go.Β
it hurts.Β
this hurts.Β
we canβt be friends.Β
you shouldnβt be here.Β
stay here with me.Β
it doesnβt feel like you care.Β
i canβt feel your heart.Β
iβm so alone.Β
i need you here, with me.Β
thereβs nothing left.Β
weβre up in flames, the both of us.Β
it all comes crashing down.Β
i donβt know what to do.Β
you wonβt go with me?Β
why donβt you stay here?Β
iβm going alone.
my heartβs broken.Β
they broke your heart.Β
where did this come from?Β
how did you get this scar?Β
who is {name}?Β
what are you saying?Β
i shouldnβt have come here.Β
itβs like weβve become strangers.Β
who hurt you?Β
who did this to you?Β
please, donβt ignore me.
please, say something.Β
is there something i should know?
iβm not leaving you here.Β
you canβt do this to me.Β
after all that weβve been throughβ¦Β
thereβs something you need to know.Β
Send me one or more of the following:
β I want to roleplay with you βΈ I want to plot with you β€ I want to ship with you β₯ I have roleplayed with you and it was great β¦ I sort of secretly ship a thing with your muse(s) β· I wish our characters were friends β’ I like your characters β± I donβt like your characters β£ I like the way you express your muse(s) β« I donβt like the way you express your muse(s) β¬ I feel like your characters are underdeveloped β I donβt agree on all your headcanons β‘ I agree on all your headcanons β Your blog is one of my favs β¦ I like seeing you on my dash β΅ I donβt follow you for roleplay β§ I wish you would notice me β© You intimidate me βͺ You seem like a cool person βΊ Youβre hard to approach β» I wish you werenβt so shy β I look up to you β I love your art β I love the way you write * I want to learn to know you = Iβm too shy to approach to you β We should talk! β₯ Your choice what to write"

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tenebrcβ:
βDid you just come out of the closet?β He grins, entirely too pleased with his little joke. It hadnβt not been that long yet since jokes likes these were accepted and Marcus reveled in the opportunity to make them.
He didnβt move from where he was leaning against the railing. It wasnβt difficult to see that Allen was frightened and Marcus didnβt want to scare him away.Β βHow are you tonight?β Manners were still important even if one of them was dead and the other witnessed a murder (Β committed by the dead man, in fact ).Β
βCan I come in? Or are you going to leave me out here in the cold?β
The only thing worse than being stalked by a murderer is being stalked by a murderer who made corny jokes. Allen groans audibly. Though it is hard to keep a neutral expression, he isnβt keen on the idea of giving Marcus the satisfaction of a smile. Not so easily, anyway.
He frowns at the question, practically ignores it with a cold stare. His frown only deepens when Marcus has the gall to make a request. Despite it being rather nice inside, he begins to shiver. His mind is blank.
βNo,β he says flatly.Β βNo, you canβt come in. I donβt want to die tonight.β
tenebrcβ:
His head cocked to the side at the request, but Marcus didnβt see a reason as to why he should keep Allen here any longer. Their connection was strong and he knew the young manβs name;Β thatβs all he needed to find him again. Tomorrow, or maybe the day after, Marcus would visit him to ask all of the questions that were already brewing at the back of his mind.Β βSure. But, Allen, you canβt tell anyoneΒ what happened here tonight. All of this stays between the two of us.β
With that he turned his back on the human and made his way back to his first victim of the night. The most dangerous means of exposure had been dealt with, but that didnβt mean he could just leave a body lying around. The last few hours of the night Marcus made sure that the corpse wouldnβt be found anywhere near this alley and when they didΒ find him, itβd look like a mugging gone wrong, nothing more to it. It helped that the man was clearly homeless, the police never looked deeply into those cases. Once that was finished he returned to his haven to spend the day safely asleep.
No one. Not a soul, Allen thought; couldnβt quite say it aloud, but he thought it so intensely that it threatened to become gospel to him. A silent prayer. An inexplicable compulsion to stay on the straight and narrow path Marcus had just forged for him. He nodded. Marcus turned his back. Allen turned his, then began to walk away.
While Marcus disposed of the body, Allen wandered home - dazed, unsure, not quite all there. It was a dream. It had to have been a dream. Heβd had vivid nightmares before. Visions so real that he awoke with scratches and bite marks that he swore werenβt self-inflicted. This could have been another one of those.
Tired and aching, he scarcely bothered to dress down apart from the removal of his coat and shoes before he collapsed into his bed. For once, for the first time in a long time, he settled into a dreamless sleep.
-{ ok yes iβm finally like. BACK. hi guys! i was gone for a bitΒ βcause like, i fuckin... yβknow. had some issues. Severe Psychological Breakdown issues. bc like, duh i always do that. but anyway iβm back so like, thatβs all that matters. sorry to anyone i was plotting with on here! iβm still open to chatting and whatnot, just... gotta reorient myself i guess }-
SENTENCE STARTERS: LEO TOLSTOYβS WAR AND PEACEΒ
feel free to change pronouns etc!Β
βif everyone fought for their own convictions there would be no war.βΒ
βnothing is so necessary for a young man as the company of intelligent women.βΒ
βthe strongest of all warriors are these two: time and patience.βΒ
βitβs not given to people to judge whatβs right or wrong. people have eternally been mistaken and will be mistaken, and in nothing more than in what they consider right and wrong.β
βlet the dead bury the dead, but while Iβm alive, i must live and be happy.β
βi simply want to live; to cause no evil to anyone but myself.β
βeverything i know, i know because of love.β
βno one could tell whether what he said was very clever or very stupid.β
βhow many people I have hated in my life.βΒ
βmarry when youβre old and good for nothingβ¦otherwise all thatβs good and lofty in you will be lost.βΒ
βkings are the slaves of history.βΒ
βgod is the same everywhere.βΒ
βpure and complete sorrow is as impossible as pure and complete joy.βΒ
βone must be cunning and wicked in this world.βΒ
βwriting laws is easy, but governing is difficult.βΒ
βwe love people not so much for the good theyβve done us, as for the good weβve done them.β
βdonβt speak to me like that; iβm not worth it!βΒ
βfor what, for whom, must i kill and be killed?βΒ
βhe did what heroes do after their work is accomplished; he died.βΒ
βeverything ends in death, everything. death is terrible.β
βeach man lives for himself.βΒ
β how often we sin, how much we deceive, and all for what?βΒ
βi donβt give a damn unless Iβm fond of a person; but iβd sacrifice my life for those i am fond of.β
βiβm getting old, thatβs the thing! whatβs in me now wonβt be there anymore.β
βthere are such repulsive faces in the world.β
βwell, pray if you like, only youβd do better to use your judgment.β
βitβs different for you and me. you study, you become enlightened; i study, i become confused.βΒ
βwhy nowadays thereβs a new fashion every day.β
βwhat a terrible thing war is, what a terrible thing!β
βsend him to the devil, iβm busy.β
βwhen in doubt, my dear fellow, do nothing.β
β it happened simply because it had to happenβ
βthey talked about peace, but did not believe in its possibility.β
βoh, how happy i am to have found it at last.β
βas long as there is life, there is still happinessβ
βlife wonβt leave one alone as it is.β
β they are even more frightened than we areβΒ
βwhy ask? why doubt what you cannot help knowing? why use words when words cannot express what one feels?β
βi love everybody and pity everybody.β
βwisdom needs no violence.β
βiβm not a goose, youβre the goose for crying over nothingβ
βsuch is the inevitable fate of men of action, and the higher they stand in the social hierarchy the less are they free.β
audaciiaeβ:
βItβd be a bit macabre to say that itβs a pleasure right now, yes?β Camilla quips, something like a smile appearing on her face. She feels far too calm for whatβs happening right now. As the blood drips onto the floor, she is careful to not step in it. The last thing either of them need is bloody footprints, too. The scene here is all too familiar, vague images flashing in her mind.Β
Funny, she thought that she had blocked all of Charlesβ murder from her mind.
Letting out a breath, Camilla rolls her shoulders, the weight of the body heavier than she initially thought. At least someone is here to help her, right? She isnβt sure that she shouldβve disposed of a fully intact body on her own. After all, Camilla is an academic, not an athlete.Β
βI think weβre almost outsideβ¦then we canβ¦do whatever. Bury it, perhaps? Iβm not sure of what else there is to doβ¦β
A bit macabre. As though he isnβt carefully maneuvering his way out of a party with a fresh corpse in tow, he smiles.Β βYes, only just.β
Without Camillaβs delightful company, Allen might have found himself dry heaving and sobbing over the consequences of his ill-conceived conflict resolution strategy. Instead, with her there to help move things along, he feels sufficiently detached. At ease, even. Almost... giddy.
He allows himself time to revel in this feeling of schoolboyish mischief. He kicks the door open behind him, and - after peeking out just to be sure - awkwardly leads his companions out into the dark.
The scent of petrichor makes Allenβs nostrils flare. Steam rises off of the asphalt, still wet from recent but long-gone rain. Crickets chirp intermittently outside, accompanied by an occasional warm, gentle breeze. Itβs a beautiful night to bury a body.
βCamilla, I want to be forthright with you β Iβve no idea what to do now,β Allen laughs softly, maybe a little unconvincingly. As they move the body across the parking lot, a peal of laughter resonates from nearby. Not too close, but not nearly far enough for his comfort.
βScheiΓe,β Allen hisses, jerking his head in their direction as though Camilla somehow hadnβt noticed.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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-{ ok so iβve pretty much stopped using faceclaims as of now }-
-{ sorry iβve been gone. iβve been over on my multi sorta. }-
β πππ ππ π π ππππ’ ππππ? β
Β Β Β Β Β Β Β β ππππ π’ππ πππ πππππ, πππ ππ πππππππ Β Β Β Β Β Β π ππ π’ππ ππππππ ππ ππππ πππ ππ ππ. β
the virtue of CHASTITY. written by kenzie/moths. π‘ [ rules | bio | verses ] π£
-{ itβs not me realizing i need to redo my entireΒ βverse page asklfjsdkla }-
writinghannibalβ:
Hannibal allowed Allen to pull away from him, taking his hand from his shoulder. He turned slightly to observe him. His expression was muted, his lips pressed together in a thin line.
βNot at all. I would be happy to play with you again, and perhaps teach you some of the finer differences between the piano and her predecessor,β he said evenly. He turned himself somewhat more, sitting astride the bench.Β
βThis may be a breach of our professional relationship but β I can think of no one more suitable. I am planning a dinner party and am in need of the entertainment. I have hired a quartet in the past, but a pianist would be a nice change. Would you be interested?β
Breach or not, the proposition was enticing. Enticing enough that he was willing to forego the ethical implications of this invitation for the sake of something to do. He enjoyed teaching. Truly, he did. However, lack of work outside of lessons left him feeling a little... claustrophobic. Confined. His eyes, though heavy with fatigue, lit up at the suggestion.
βI... Iβd be glad to. Of course,β Allen nodded, his defensive posture loosening just so.Β βIf you donβt mind, would you... be able to e-mail the details to me later on?β

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audaciiaeβ:
Camilla huffs out a breath as she lifts the corpse by its legs, grimacing a little. The last time she had done this, well, at least he had been in pieces to make things more manageable. The man helping her, well, at least he seems level-headed, and she certainly hopes that this will stay between them, butβ¦
βWhatβs your name?β It feels only proper to ask, considering the circumstances. Nothing really feels real at the moment. The least she can do is try to bring a small amount of normalcy to an otherwise awful situation.Β βIβm Camilla.β And a smile, even with a body between them.Β βShould I thank you for helping me?β
The stiff isnβt particularly heavy insofar as the average weight of a human being goes. However, it is heaps more difficult to move a person who has no control over their muscles. Even someone being held against their will would be able to tense, flex and pull to keep themselves from sinking to the ground. The victim, unfortunately, is every bit as unhelpful and uncooperative as a corpse can be.
Itβs a struggle to appear competent, but Allenβs pride outweighs the ache that settles into his shoulders as he fights to force the corpse to bend to his will. Its blood dribbles onto the plush carpet below, over the tops of his freshly polished dress shoes. He barely notices, nor does he seem to care. Though blood spatter is damning evidence in its own right, the body takes obvious precedent. And above that, his priority is the young and still living woman heβs assisting.
βOh, donβt thank me yet. Itβs bad luck to congratulate yourself before the job is done,β Allen smiles at her as they round a corner.
βIβm Allen. Itβs... well, under normal circumstances Iβd say itβs a pleasure, Camilla, but...β
hisarchenemyβ:
@guadnahdβ , A. S. said:Β β I hate him more than all the others. β
the cold slices him to the bone, then drills into his marrow. itβs only flesh screaming out, itβs expected biology, he tells himself, and it does nothing to soothe the ice that slowly settles into him. ( wool is an excellent insulator, and it is breathable, but for all its virtues it isnβt windproof. ) knowing reasons and facts does not erase the reality of the situation, or melts down winter into spring.
( if it were merely a matter of strength of will, then it could. but reality does not bend over backwards for him. not this reality, the reality of harsh nature and not of the human intellect. in the end, we are all but pieces of paper blowing in the wind. itβs a grave error for man to believe himself above the very thing that shaped him. )
he scoots closer to the fire. its dancing is hypnotic. warm. safe.
Β Β Β Β Β β tell me about him, β he breathes without looking up ( and his breath dances before him before it, too, freezes ; Β a grim premonition, if one believed in such things ), and although Mycroftβs voice is quiet, it still rings in the silence around them.
Allen used to measure luck in little frivolities: a missed note unnoticed during an audition, a bump in his semester average due to a clerical error, an excuse to cancel unwanted plans at the last moment. How he longs for those days, now. Days of pettiness, of normalcy. Food from a microwave, rest in a warm bed, a shower whenever the need arises. Perfectly mundane from sunrise to sunset.
Luck, as of late, is measured in the two cleaned and sectioned rabbits roasting in front of the fire. Itβs measured in melted snow that miraculously didnβt make him sick for days after drinking it; in warm clothes he was able to wrestle from a frozen corpse; in the days heβs managed to survive since his stranding.
The cold is enough to cause Allen to forego all preconceptions of boundaries and proper behavior. The wind chill doesnβt bother him so much; he was prepared for a long trek through the barrens, as any capable outdoorsman would be. Still, insulated clothing only goes so far. Eventually, cold seeps in. A shiver sets into every muscle in his body, every heartbeat sharp and every breath harsh with frost. He doesnβt know his companion very well, but he knows their situation is dire enough that neither of them can discount the need for close proximity. He scoots in close, his split-second glance mildly apologetic. Desperate.
βIf youβd like,β Allen responds, his gentle voice amplified by the deafening nothingness that blankets their surroundings. He isnβt quite sure how they got on the subject to begin with. Boredom, idle conversation, low spirits... anything and everything might have led them to this point in conversation. Its unpleasantness makes Allen grit his teeth underneath his scarf.
But... if theyβre to die, he would rather his companion know him in his entirety. He sighs, a damp fog filtering through his face cover.
βHe was my neighbor. He taught me piano without expectation of monetary compensation, which... well, itβs an enticing opportunity for an orphan in the foster care system. I... hadnβt realized that he expected compensation in some form, though.β
Allen is careful as he speaks. Guarded, if only to shield his friend from unpleasantness. If only to shield himself from being too open. He prods at the roasting rabbits with a stick, lifting them just enough to see if the undersides have seared.
βI thought he was attractive. Curly black hair, beautiful blue eyes, a square jaw... nine years my senior, so I never held out hope for a chance in Hell, you know? Ha.β
Allen laughs in a way that doesnβt quite reach his eyes. Itβs quiet, a little forced. He tends to the sparse meal cooking by the fire, deftly flipping the meat onto its uncooked side.
βI was... thirteen, and I didnβt know any better. I knew something... bad had happened to me, but I donβt think I understood exactly how it was bad. Iβm Catholic. I thought it was... guilt. That I felt badly because I had committed a sin. I bore that guilt like it belonged to me, and I continued my piano lessons. I confessed, said my Ave MariaΒ and moved on.β
Heβs recalled this story so many times, it doesnβt quite sting the way it ought to anymore. The brittle cold that turns his blood to slush feels a thousand times worse to him, somehow.
ββ maybe not the terrible ex boyfriend story you were expecting, no?β