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cryinginthebackseat · 3 years

Text

you’ve got more poison than sugar - part iii

part i part ii AO3

Fandom: Call Of Duty

Pairing: Russell Adler x Bell

Words: 6.572

Warnings: here’s where the smut tag comes into play, boy with a copious amount of power play and yeah, it’s messy af

Author’s note: after three months, a couple of brainstorming in the bathtub, delays, revisions and self-doubt, chapter 3 is finally done. i hope you'll enjoy it. also, i don't think i have to warn you what will go down in this chapter.

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Fast forward to twenty-four hours since he discovers that Bell is fucking someone, Lazar drops about half a dozen of dusty manilas on his desk. Adler’s eyes sweep over them. He recognizes Bell’s handwriting etched across the memo attached to one of the folders right away.

He picks it up. It’s becoming second nature to him lately; drawing himself to her, an ineradicable magnetic force pulling his end of the pole.

A muscle on his jaw twitches.

For a moment, Adler despises her. He allows himself to really despise her. She’s started something in his head- a war; an intangible, unmanageable riot and if he lets her, she’ll rearrange him until he’s insane.

And he can’t let that happen. He’s the one holding the leash here, not vice versa.

“This is what we have on Dragovich’s activities in Yamantau,” Lazar informs him, pulling him back down to earth.

Adler stands, keeping his face easy, neutral. “Is this everything?”

“So far, yeah. Bell says she’ll let us know if she digs up something more from the archives though.”

Bell- the Bell in question- can be heard sighing, like she turns the corner and finds herself at a cul-de-sac; hunching over her desk, reading, her fingers keep buttoning and unbuttoning the top of her shirt, madly distracting (him).

She remains in her seat, for pretty much the remainder of the day. Eyes glued to the pages before her, factory-like dedication. She hardly looks up when Sims borrows her pen or when Park stands over her, sipping her coffee, inquiring about her progress behind a plume of smoke.

The only- truly time Bell ever lifts her head from her work is when Mason approaches her desk. She gazes up at him, notes forgotten, a kittenish smile etched across her face, come-hither eyes that could have time hung in motion, or held at ransom, perhaps. Mason’s own smile is full-blown, too wide, too genial, as he stalks closer and closer to her table, her whirlpool.

Adler does a double-take, like his eyeballs only functioning for the first time. He might as well be hallucinating it because no... this can’t be right, can it?

But then Mason is touching her hand, a blink-and-you-miss-it movement that was not lost on Adler and oh, she’s looking at him hopefully now.

The knots in Adler's stomach are vertiginous. Realization rings in his head like a gunshot, nearly leaving him in a daze. There’s no denying it. Not when the exchange unfurls before his eyes like a broken, warped film reel and there’s nothing to stop him from seeing it.

The thought of her and him haunts the rest of his waking hours, until there’s absolutely no telling how far he’s fallen into his own pit.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ( Alex Mason fucked her that night.

Mason was in her bed; beside her, above her, under her. Inside her. He imagines her fingers digging into the mattress as Mason rolled her onto her stomach, mouth trailing down the ladder of her spine. Their breaths intermingled in the seraphic glow of her hotel room.

Alex Mason fucked her. It shouldn't leave an acrid taste in his mouth, but it does.)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ She haphazardly reaches for the mug and takes a hearty gulp of its content. It’s not hers.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” Bell says, mortified and places the mug down noisily on the desk. “I’m sorry, I thought it was mine.”

The rim of his mug is now stained with her lipstick. Adler bites down on a careful retort.

He thinks he knows now. Why he lets it happen, why he thinks of her in metaphors, why she gives him that vertigo. The answer is at the tip of his tongue- he can almost taste it, like spoiled milk or rancid gardenia. But it’s much easier to ignore it until the words grow diminuendo and disappear, that he thinks he imagined it all along.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You can’t obsess without turning around and getting lost in the middle.

Or losing a part of yourself in the process.

The idea of obsession, to obsess, perhaps is a far riskier thing for a person to have than playing the knife game, blindfolded with absolutely no telling where to start.

Yet we all do it, despite knowing the very dark flipside it possesses.

Perhaps it’s the very nature of humans, tucked deep within the pigeonhole of our minds, suffused by the very promise of bogus achievements that usually leads most of us insane, thinking that obsession is essential to living. But without it, artists are corporate slaves, slack-jawed know-it-alls moving stiffly in the middle of the hullabaloo that is our world; Paris would be just as unrecognizable today without Napoleon’s artistic legacy.

Obsession is good.

Obsession is dangerous.

The very dichotomy should have us all warded off of it.

Yet, again, we all do it. Again, and again, and again until it taints our veins. And it’s always far too late until you realize, that yes, now all you see is her, the air has been poisoned by her perfume, that her name is now forevermore engraved in your skin, like an overgild tattoo.

That you end up in downtown Berlin, out of sight, out of mind.

He finds them there, in a shoebox-sized cafe. Ill-lit, low-ceiling, coffee-stained floor that shows the wear of three decades worth of boots, pantoffels and high heels and Adler is sitting in his car, nursing a beer with but one all-consuming, perplexing thought:

Bell and Mason.

Someone told him they arrived together, about an hour ago. The cafe has become their usual haunts, his source said, ever since they’ve returned from Ukraine and Adler just can’t wrap his head around this- them. In his head, they’re wholly different entities. Two proper nouns separated by a conjunction, or a comma if mentioned in a list.

They’re the kind of opposites that he thought don’t attract, yet here they are.

Perhaps it's inevitable, both are products of brainwashing. Maybe they sensed one another, speaking in code, like detecting an RF signal from a nuclear bunker.

Then the doors to the cafe swing open. They step outside, cheeks flushed, his arm wrapped around her waist, her lips glueing on the slope of his neck. Shaded eyes watch them from the opposite street, his disgust obvious.

Now, Adler wonders how this all began. Someone must have made the first move.

He wonders if it was her. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"You wanted to see me?"

Adler looks up from his desk and nods. "Lock the door behind you."

And Alex Mason, the root of all this trouble, obeys. Looking somewhat uncertain under the scrutiny of the harsh lights, and shuts the blinds. Unlike Woods, he takes a seat at the chair Adler sets up before the desk.

"What is it?" Mason asks, after a long, almost unending silence. His curiosity seeps through the room.

There is very little control when the first domino falls. Oftentimes, once it starts, it’s like crossing the Rubico n and the next thing you know, you are lying flat on the ground in some theater, 23 fresh stab wounds decorating your body and the beat of your pulse seems dim and distant, everything feels cold except your blood; warm, bright and thick like gasoline, crawling into every space until it goes into your throat and strangles you, kills you. Fini, kaput.

But then again, he's not Caesar and this isn't Rome.

Adler pushes the first tile.

"How long has this been going on?" he asks without fanfare, tight and composed as ever. Never mind the way his eyes ignite like cold blue fire behind his glasses.

"How long has what been going on?"

“You and Bell." And Mason blinks at him in surprise. Bingo. "I saw the two of you leaving for her hotel from a cafe in Downtown Berlin last night. So don't bother skirting your way around this.” Adler leans forward across his desk. He’s a man on a mission- there’s no stopping him now.

“Now, let me rephrase the question, how long have you been fucking her?"

"Hold on, hold on, you were stalking us?" Mason asks, waspish.

Adler winces inwardly. "I was keeping an eye out for my asset.”

“Asset?” Mason hisses, like Adler just blasphemed. “Jesus Christ, Russ, is that all she ever is to you? An asset? She’s your protégé, for god’s sake- a person! What is wrong with you?"

"Plenty. Or apparently, so I've been told.”

"I don't find you amusing.”

“I'm hardly ever,” Adler parries. Mason remains silent, yet the tilt of his lips translate exactly what words can't. "And you haven't answered my question."

“Bullshit. I don’t owe you anything."

"Listen, Al-"

"No, you listen to me. You may be calling the shots around here, but this has absolutely nothing to do with you. Whatever- or whoever - we're doing in our spare time is none of your business, do you understand? So you can just drop it," Mason seethes, bitter, and, much to Adler’s surprise, rises to leave. “We’re done here.”

"That's where you're wrong."

Mason has only managed to put a few paces between them before he turns around, once again stepping inside this metaphorical boxing ring.

"What?"

"This has everything to do with me," Adler says coolly. "You said it yourself, I'm the one who calls the shots here. Meaning, anything that could potentially fuck up my operation is my concern and I have the right to intervene should it needed. This, being a case in point."

Mason looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “What the hell does fucking her have to do with this whole operation?”

“Everything.” He says it like quiet resignation. It’s time to acknowledge the truth, he thinks, to that unusual idea that has been swirling in the deep recesses of his mind, that everyone’s weakness is varied.

Achilles had his heel, and Adler has her.

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to, Al. You don't even know her."

Mason gives him a level stare. "And you do?"

Adler is so hard-pressed to say 'I made her' but even he wouldn't stoop that low.

"That is beside the point,” Adler tells him instead as he turns to his vice- one of them, at least- and lights it.

“There is literally no point to this conversation.”

“The point is, stay the hell away from Bell. I'm saying this for your own good."

"My own good or yours?"

Adler does not flinch, but his hand does ball into a fist under the table, how the fingers curl and then flex.

"Don't be ridiculous. I gain nothing from this except assurance." It's a lie, it's the truth. There's no in between. He doesn’t know which is which anymore. "You, on the other hand, I'm sure the old ball and chain wouldn't be near as thrilled about hearing this if word ever gets out."

Mason is quiet for a beat.

"Is that a threat?"

"Only once I pulled the pin," Adler replies, a dangerous undercurrent in his voice.

But the thing with Mason, he'll come to realize later, is how much, like with Bell, weaving through his mind is like trying to grasp for purchase in the dark as he, once again, does the unpredicted and smile- a venomous grin warps his face, like he’s mocking him, challenging him to move his piece on the board and make this mistake.

Adler stares back, surprised despite himself.

He shocks him further by saying, "Go ahead, then. Pull the pin, throw the grenade, tell her. See if she cares."

Adler’s eyes narrow at his askance. He then drags his attention to Mason’s left hand, and something grave and familiar rises in his chest.

The absence of the metal band around his ring finger tells him why.

“You know where to reach her. If anything, I’m sure she’d trust your words better than anyone else’s. So please, do it.” And Mason’s so goddamn sanctimonious about it. He’s clearly expecting this particular reaction out of Adler. It only leaves Adler angrier.

Another long pause stretches, heavy and unkind.

"Fine. Maybe she won't mind, but I'm sure the Agency wouldn’t be as tolerant.” Adler takes one last drag of his cigarette. He has that ‘Having nothing, nothing can he lose’ look on his face that makes Mason frowns. “Not when you’ve been fraternizing with the enemy.”

"What?”

"Bell. She’s not who you think she is, Al. Tell me, who do you think is the sorry bastard we saved in Trabzon?”

Mason blinks. His face is blank with shock, then he shakes his head. And he keeps shaking it, almost manic. If he laughs, which one would come first, he wonders, the gun or his fist pummeling the side of his face?

“You’re lying.”

“And why would I lie to you about this?”

"No, no, no, Woods- he told me the guy’s dead,” Mason says, his words are shaky.

“He’s not. And he wasn’t a he."

A crease forms between Mason's eyebrows, the starting of another frown.

“Hold on, if she’s helping us get Perseus then why is she the enemy?”

"Because she doesn't know that."

"Doesn't know what?"

"That she's the enemy."

Mason holds his gaze for a moment, his expression tense, like a slingshot.

And that cold elastic band finally snaps.

“What did you do to her?” He’s openly glaring at him now, mouth tight, an icy fury that is no longer dormant and for the first time since Adler has known him, he finds the man dangerous.

Adler takes a steadying breath. “We did what had to be done.”

"You sick son of a bitch. You brainwa- You-” Mason clamps his mouth shut, trembling hands finding his head. “Shit. How could you?"

Adler ignores his colorful outburst.

“She resisted every form of interrogations we threw at her, Al. We had no choice but to implement MK-Ultra as a last resort. We needed what’s in her head.” Mason is silent in reply. Adler continues, “Look, it’s nasty business, I know, but some of us have to cross a line just to make sure that line's still there in the morning. And as much as I hate agreeing with Hudson, he’s right. We need to preserve our way of life.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to play God,” his voice is resentful and crisp. “Do you have any idea what you are doing? You could jeopardize everything, and for what? You’ve seen what this- this experiment did to me, this won’t end the way you think!”

“Lightning never strikes the same place twice.”

"You’re really willing to gamble on that?”

Adler scowls. “I don’t gamble, Mason. I calculate. And if by some chance I was given a second chance, I’d do it all over again. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Mason doesn’t say anything at first, his loaded gun stare never falters. Then, “The flag may be different, but the methods are the same.”

"What was that?”

“Someone warned me, a long time ago, about how people like you will use people like me or Bell as pawns in your own game. You’d do whatever it takes to get what you want- and my, how you get results, don’t you? But you’re actually no different than the rest of the assholes you're fighting against,” Mason tells him, like he’s spitting out acid in Adler’s face.

“Bell may be the enemy- heck, she could be the architect behind all the chaos Perseus has done, but what you’re doing to her is vile and unethical. There are many ways to make her spill the beans, yet you chose the most immoral method there is out there. I sincerely hope you rot in hell for this."

Before Adler could formulate a response to his tirade, Mason stands to his feet.

“You want me to stay away from her? Fine. Consider this as my formal resignation. After Yamatau, I’m done. I’m out of the team. And if you know what’s good for you, you stay the fuck away from me because I don't ever want to see your face again, do you hear me?” he snarls. “If you think Woods is dangerous, Adler, just remember I nearly could have killed my own president."

Then Mason turns on his heel and walks out of the room, once and for all. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The fist is very much expected, and so does the pain that follows.

"You're out of your fucking depth, shithead," Woods spits, venom lacing his words.

Adler doesn't even bother to retaliate.

He doesn’t see the point. He didn’t think it would get this far. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The garage grows quiet and stodgy with now Mason and Woods are out of the picture. Everyone settles back into their own normal rhythm, the same routine before both men set their feet here almost a week ago.

Hudson doesn’t take the news of their departure kindly, naturally. He stands in Adler’s office, pacing, fuming. Adler ignores him, trying to nurse the skull-splitting migraine he's having at his desk instead. The nasty black eye hidden underneath his glasses. A secret locked, the key thrown away.

His headache, thankfully, has subsided when Sims takes a seat on the other side of the desk, hours later after Hudson left.

"I'm not trying to cause an alarm here, but you'd better watch your back."

Adler's brows furrow but doesn’t look up from the papers before him. "And why's that?"

"'Cause I think you just pissed off the wrong beast," Sims tells him. Adler pauses, then lifts his head to look at his cohort. There's genuine worry flashing over his face.

“Are you talking about Bell?”

“Who else?”

If she's a beast, then what am I? What he wants to ask, but there's a knock at the door and he swallows the words down his throat.

"Come in," Adler says, pretending to be reading again.

The door opens and Bell, fucking Bell, enters his office. It's like watching a tiger pass by your hiding spot in near dark. Neither he nor Sims breathes a word.

Bell's gaze immediately swings to him, like a cosmic pull. She's watching him as she wanders over to the desk and the weight of her stare burns him like Greek fire.

He pushes the documents close, all the while returning her stare. He is never the one who backs out of a challenge, and at this point, he knows that she probably knows that. Maybe that’s why she initiated it in the first place.

"Bell, what is it?" Adler asks firmly, in possession of his full power in this place.

Bell produces three diskettes from her pocket. Something odd definitely shining in her eyes.

"These have been lying on Lazar's desk for hours, but he's busy, so I thought I'd deliver them to you myself," Bell says. And he's trying to work out on her angle but she is unreadable. As always.

Adler nods, frustrated and indignant. "You can leave them here. Thank you."

It is only once the woman leaves that the two agents share a dark, significant look. That was too close.

And it goes without saying, something needs to be done about this. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

March 7th. A's insistence on raising the dosage is illogical. Recent behavioural analysis indicates depression. Will monitor for the next few days. Considering lowering the dosage instead. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The elevator reeks of smoke, cheap Soviet air freshener and something far more poisonous than the devil’s spider, silky hands.

It embodies the woman standing next to him right now- this special animal, emotionless, a constant mystery wrapped with a warning sign.

Adler is tempted to shut his eyes.

Or get out of here. He doesn’t dwell well in this atmosphere, this limited space shared with her alone. He probably should have listened to Hudson about taking Bell for this mission, but she’s the only one he trusts who won’t fuck this up. Not to mention her spotless Russian has proven to help them blend in with the crowd seamlessly.

He needs her, whether he would admit it aloud or not.

But she puts his head in such a spin.

She’s been near-mute since they departed from Germany. She barely acknowledges his questions and orders, barely looks at him. She’s been treating him as if he’s another shadow on the wall.

He rubs the side of his jaw. Something does need to be done about this.

“Are you going to stay quiet forever?” Adler asks. He’s bad at this, but he can’t stand her silence for much longer. Not to mention, they’re at the Lubysnka- the fucking lion's den. If she wants to wallow over Mason’s absence or sinks into whatever melancholic feeling she’s in, she can do it later.

Bell hums, her mouth curls up like serpentine. Adler sketches a confused frown. And she says, “I don’t know. Should I?”

And then, sudden and swift, Bell undoes the cuffs of her uniform. Beady eyes never leave his.

The sight catches him off guard. Somewhere in his mind, he curses something like ‘you’re a beast’ and ‘what the hell are you?’ at her, all in negative connotations. The effects she inflicts on him is maddening.

“What are you doing?” Adler doesn’t bother to hide his surprise.

Bell shrugs and gestures to the duffle bag at their feet. “Gearing up.”

Oh. Embarrassment wells up in him. Fucking hell, this woman will be the death of him.

Her fingers quickly move on to the buttons, still indifferent, nearly tearing them from the seams. The first glimpse of her skin and Adler can’t help but give in, openly stares at her in a way he has never imagined before. Her clavicles like daggers glinting in the lamplight.

Curiosity is a dangerous and heavy load.

He should have closed his eyes.

“Enjoying the show?” Her voice pulls him back from his musings. Her eyes still zero in on him, cutting him to pieces.

Her cleavage comes into view.

The lines on Adler’s face grow taut.

“What do you want, Bell?” He asks, intending for a bark but it ends somewhere like a plea.

“I want many things. As of right now, I want Alex’s cock inside me.” And Adler nearly chokes on his own breath. Bell, eagle-eyed as ever, caught the movement. “But it seems someone insists on being in control of everything, isn’t he?” she snaps.

Adler’s back goes rigid. Trepidation bubbles up in his chest.

Of course, she knows.

“It's not about control.” Adler turns around. He doesn’t quite know what he’s avoiding at this point, her flesh or the truth. “It’s about what’s right.”

He hears her uniform touches her floor as she laughs, mirthless, like broken chandeliers. “I didn’t know whose cock I’m riding is any concern of yours.”

“It is when he’s a member of the team,” he seethes. “What you’re doing with Alex will only lead to complications. And I can’t have tha-”

“Because this is all about you, isn’t it? It’s about upholding your precious reputation in the Agency, controlling the narrative the way you want it no matter how many characters you kill off in the process. It’s always about what you want.” Bell interrupts, not missing a beat. “You selfish motherfucker.”

"This has nothing to do with my reputation in the CIA."

She scoffs. "Spare me the crap, Adler."

Adler turns to fully face her again and holds his arms open, the way someone is facing the firing squad. “Fine. Fine, yes, I’m a selfish motherfucker. I did it because I thought it could ruin the operation. Is that what you wanted to hear? Now, what are you going to do about it?”

She says nothing at first. He silently catalogues her movements as she steps towards him now, half-naked and furious. He feels pinned.

Then, “What do you want me to do about it?”

His mouth dries at the implication. She is temptation, benediction, the coarse ice block before the carver.

How terrible it is to lose control, even just once.

A knowing, vicious smirk flashes over her face. Adler feels like he’s just shown his hand.

“You are one selfish bastard and a coward to boot, aren’t you?” Bell sneers before he has a chance to respond. “At least, Alex was brave enough to make the first move, but you…” her gaze raking up and down his figure coldly, a jeweller presented with second-grade imitations. Wind her up and this honey bee stings.

“You’ll always be the man who hides behind his shades,” she says, dry as dust, and steps back and snatches her clothes from the bag.

This is, without a single doubt, the longest elevator ride he’s ever experienced in his life. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Adler arrived back in Berlin breathing a little harder. Worry wrapped around his neck like a noose, placed by Bell herself; the judge, jury and executioner.

The knot tightens every time his mind refers to her.

The agency trained him, specifically, to keep calm under pressure. He didn’t coin the title “America’s Monster” from his colleagues for nothing. They don’t fear him because he’s hot-headed or thinks in large-scale violence— guns blazing, napalm-induced flames over the hill in the morning, bloodied knuckles and fractured jaw, blood-soaked soles tarnishing the white marble floor. Someone can point a fucking shotgun to his face and he’ll barely flinch. Only monsters remain impassive to direct threats of violence.

But there’s something about Bell that elicits this visceral, primal reaction out of him. Something strange and new; lightning about to be uncapped from its chains.

It chokes him, frightens him to the core.

How gauche is it, don’t you think, that his own mind is conspiring against him?

Now, in the garage, where it dawns on Adler that she’s probably the only person who can make him walk around the city, feeling like a fool, he decides he’s had enough. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I’ll drive you back.”

Adler apprehends Bell outside the garage. He kind of assumed she’d have a pistol aimed at his head right now, but she spins around, hands shoved deep inside her pockets and clayey mouth curls in distaste.

“Get in the car, Bell,” Adler says tightly, almost adding please.

But he would not beg.

The brunette remains rooted in her place. For a moment, a calculating look crossed her face. Always, always that sharp mind of hers turning and he wonders where it would take her this time.

“Try asking nicely,” she demands.

Adler’s eyes flash. She really is testing him. But fine, he'll play her game.

“Bell, would you kindly get in the car?” He is all but snarls, teeth gritting. Bell hardly wavers- he wishes she would waver for a change.

She does what he asked of her, finally, the shadow of a smirk on her face mocking him. Adler follows suit, teeth still clenched together, and starts the car and drives away.

It's sort of like a deja-vu, he supposes; him and her in this very same car, except that stupid krautrock music is absent this time. Neither says anything for the first twenty minutes. Everything feels heavily still.

Until he realizes she’s probably waiting for his move.

This might gloriously blow up in his face, yes, he knows this. Especially remembering the last time he was alone in a tight space with her, it had cost him his pride.

And his mind.

But he’s been here before, in the eye of the storm. He was at his calmest here. He has his cards prepared now.

Adler inhales deeply.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he utters resolutely. He doesn’t look at her, doesn’t want to. “I was out of line, I admit it. Your affair with Mason should be no concern of mine but I really am just trying to look out for you.”

It’s weak, he knows. The words feel more like an anchor than an actual apology in his tongue anyway, but Adler didn’t expect that Bell would give him nothing. Not even an acknowledging hum, a scathing retort, a scoff. Nothing.

A twinge of irritation brews in his stomach. Why does she insist on playing games?

The car comes to a stop. They’ve arrived. Adler wrests his hands from the steering wheel to say something harsh to her, but Bell is already stepping out of the car.

She stands on the sidewalk; an enigma in royal red, and her lethal, all-seeing eyes gravitate to him in the night.

There is a long paralyzing beat where they just stare at each other- which seems to be a running theme between them lately. Adler is fuming, as he is confused.

It feels like hours, centuries, eons, but, like all magic, the spell is broken. Courtesy of a stranger hailing a cab behind his car.

Bell turns and walks inside the building. She doesn’t bother sparing him the final glance or extend her appreciation for the ride back and Adler thinks to himself, this universe, god fucking damnit, nothing makes sense here.

But it is also in moments like this that the world spins, when he notices a singular, significant detail that makes his stomach roll, nearly throwing him off balance:

Bell left the passenger door open.

And he’s insane- he has to be, right? He’s looking too much into this. It doesn’t mean anything. His mind conjures an image, like a graphic guideline or something, step one: get out of the car, two: make your way around and close the passenger door, and third: zoom out of the neighborhood while your sanity is still intact, all in that order. Easy to comprehend, to follow.

Adler only does the first two steps. He’s ass-backwards doesn’t even bother to digest the third step.

He enters the hotel instead and takes in the surroundings. The lobby is pointedly bare, but warm and smoky. The concierge is reading behind the counter- a young, wiry boy with shocking bleached hair- with headphones on. It’s late, he probably doesn’t expect anyone to check in at this hour.

A movement by the staircase catches his interest. He sees Bell climbing up the steps slowly, leisurely. Adler makes his way there.

Halfway reaching her floor, Adler has the inkling that she knows that he’s following her. Also, because the next she does is glancing back at him over her shoulder. He waits for her to push him down the stairs or wrap those delicate hands around his neck. She does neither. She doesn’t want him gone.

Yet, his mind betrays him. Only because she doesn’t know what other atrocities he’s committed to her.

She stops by her door, opens it and goes in first. Adler, without waiting for a formal fucking invitation, slips in behind her.

Her room is much smaller than his. The TV is still on- a German dubbed of All the President’s Men is playing- a stack of books and meds lying haphazardly on the desk table.

The door clicks shut behind him. Bell wanders over to the table and turns off the TV. Her back to him.

She doesn’t bother turning the light switch on. The green neon of the hotel sign outside illuminates the room, bathes her in it, making her look even stranger and faraway.

He doesn’t take off his sunglasses.

“What do you want, Bell?” Adler is all but snarling. His anger comes in a bottle with a twist-off cap. “I’m fucking sick of playing your games. I apologized, I admitted I was wrong- I fucked up, but what more could you want?”

Jesus, and now he’s losing his temper over a brainwashed Russian who rarely talks. How did it come to this?

She tugs off her gloves. Once again, barely acknowledging him. Apparently, if ignoring him is an art form, she is the fucking Monet.

Until:

“Take them off.”

Adler blinks hard behind his glasses. Like he’s just stepped into a whole different earth.

His mouth moves.

“What?”

“Your sunglasses. Take them off.”

He stares at her back. Trying really, really hard to make sure he’s not hallucinating this, but then Bell turns around, a finger tapping against her arm, waiting.

Realization hits him like an uppercut in the face and nearly leaves him in a daze. He’s walked into a trap. That much is clear as day. She wants him to suffer as she does. An eye for an eye.

Adler holds no modicum of control in her domain, not unless she gives the reins. Once again, she plays the judge, jury and executioner at her own court.

But, like before, he’ll play her game.

There, the glasses are off. His eyes, bare, blue like fractured ice, meeting hers. In the dark, he feels her eyes shift to assess his bruise.

His heart booms against his ribs.

"Kneel,” she says glibly.

He obeys, again. His legs and hands don’t shake, but his mind is much less governable than his limbs. No, the CIA didn’t prepare a manual for situations like this and he doesn’t trust his instincts to help him dance his way around this.

Nor does he want to.

The thought fucks him up to a degree.

Adler should have known that it wouldn’t take an entire nation or continent to bring him to his knees, no, no. That would have been too easy, anyway. Although history has dictated and taught him that women are never to be underestimated, Adler hasn’t expected that one woman would be able to do the deed and succeed.

But then again, when that woman is Bell, he supposes anything is possible.

When Bell approaches him, he’s unable to take his gaze from her. Her eyes spangle with determination, an avenging soul in the neon lights. Her fingers work on the sash of her coat. The line of her mouth is flat and inscrutable. The air crackles with electricity and a promise of the unsayable, the unattainable.

She stands over him now, gloveless and coatless. She’s powerful like this and he can only crane his head up at her, ceding his fate in her hands, against his better judgement. She catches that.

Suddenly, something unpleasant breaks on her face, like when one’s smelling something foul or pungent.

Bell reaches down and grips his jaw painfully in one hand, her nails digging into his skin, and tilts his head sideways. Strange that his stomach leaps at that.

“Say you’re sorry,” she spits furiously. “And say it like you fucking mean it.”

He feels, suddenly, triumphant and chuckles darkly. Eight fucking long weeks and the beast finally shows her claws.

“Try asking nicely,” Adler parrots her words from before, not a beat missed. Two can play that game, he thinks. "Or are you above niceness, Bell?”

Her grip tightens.

"You’re one to talk,” Bell says. Then, rubs the pad of her thumb over his scarred cheek and it feels like forgiveness, or the beginning of it, at least.

His confusion spikes.

Her nose skims down his jawline.

A better, sensible man would apologize. He'd squander it until his tongue burns acid, he'd beg for her forgiveness like a man asking for repentance before his god.

“Why did you do it, Russell?” Bell whispers against his skin now, baleful and raspy. Her chest rising and falling too rapidly.

But he’s a sick bastard, a selfish motherfucker, a heartless monster. All he does is hurt the people around him. He doesn’t get to take from her, not after what he's done.

Still, Adler catches her wrist. Relishing the way her wrist bone grinds under his hold. He pulls his face back to look at her.

“You know why.”

Her eyes flick dangerously to his lips.

Desperation really can make the most vulgar things tolerable.

“Then prove it.”

So he does. As his hand reaches up to her neck, past the delicious column of her throat and with a precise swift, Adler grabs a fistful of her hair, the feminine gasp escaping her mouth is like a jolt to his groin, and kisses her.

Bell responds in kind. That little beast. She grasps his collar and drags him up to his feet, impatient with want. She laps at him, bites and sucks. His free hand snakes around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer.

She pulls away, catching her breath, and his teeth skim down her jaw, her neck. He bites her there in retaliation, on the delicious junction of her neck and shoulder, into the fabric of her shirt, making his intentions clear. Bell chokes in surprise and scrapes her nails over his scalp.

It hurts. But with pain, along comes pleasure and it’s good. It’s so good, Adler melts with a shaky breath.

His gloves come off first. Next, she pulls him free off his jacket, his sweater and snakes a hand between his legs, stroking him. He bites off a strangled ‘fuck’ into her throat. He’s worked up real fast already. Adler manages to make a short work of her shirt, unclasping her bra before he’s all but pushes her onto the bed.

Adler settles above her, capturing her lips in another feverish, hot-blooded kiss. He tugs her zipper down and slips his hand inside her pants. Her cunt’s everything he’s come to expect: wet, warm and oh-so wrong. She sucks in a breath. Her hips move against his hand. His blood sings. She throws her head back against the pillow, while his finds her earlobe.

“Has this proven my point, Bell?” he asks. His answer starts on a moan and ends with a breathless ‘yes’.

He doesn’t let her come that easily. No, he wants to drag this out for as long as he can until it drives her mad. So, Adler peels the rest of her clothes away, pulls her shoulder and turns her onto her stomach. He pins her down, hard. She gasps loudly against the white pillowcase, her hand fists into the sheets.

Adler slots himself behind her. His hand tracing along her spine, followed by his mouth, just how he fantasized once upon a time. His other hand quickly undoes the snap of his pants. Everything has been poisoned by her and her only; she is in his tongue, his veins, his mind, his lungs. She takes the centrefold of his mind and it's ridiculous.

He presses himself against her ass. His mouth falls open. Her body trembles. She’s all sin and racing hearts and sweaty flesh. She’s perfect. His now free hand slides up to the nape of Bell’s neck, reaching her throat, pressing down. She makes this high-pitched, demanding noise as she moves her hips back against him, leaving him wanting, helpless at the thought of having her right here, right now, in the warm neon glow of her hotel room.

“Please,” Bell begs. He groans in response and he gives it to her. Fuck, he’d give her anything if she begs just exactly like that.

When Adler is finally inside her, he thinks his world drops dead. He sets a merciless pace. He is not a gentle man and there is nothing gentle in the supple arch of her back, a rose bent backwards in the wind, as he pants along her neck before he pulls out, twists her onto her back again and pushes deeper into her until she comes apart underneath him (he’s made sure she begs for it- please, Russell. Oh god, Russell)

(He didn’t have to. Russell Adler is never the kind of man to fall for his dark side, but Christ knows he is only one man)

#russell adler #russell adler x bell #adler x bell #cod cold war #cod bell #cod #call of duty #call of duty black ops #call of duty cold war #alex mason #frank woods #helen park #lawrence sims #jason hudson #lazar azoulay

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adrena-dine · 4 years

Text

Eiffel GP: a summary

Honda has said to redbull “gentlemen, it was a pleasure to see you this year 🥰 see you next year 😉 ...or not 🤭”

I know someone who is going to beeeeeeeg his lover 😏

(Yes I am obviously talking about Cyril and Christian, girls it’s time to write your best fan fictions)

Horner is going to be like « hey Cyril...I miss u 🥺have an engine for me?👉🏼👈🏼 »

If you were wondering if winter was coming, look at how drivers were dressed on the paddock Thursday 🥶

Special mention for: Daniel and his beautiful assembly hat+cap, Esteban and Charles with their 3 coats and Lewis who obviously didn’t give a fuck about the weather

Really this man has said “fashion first” and then proceed to copied Charles newspaper pants 🥴

A fashion icon never gets cold though 💁🏾

HULKENBACK AGAIN

As Lance has a dodgy belly this week-end, no exit from the toilet possible for him 💀

FP1 & 2 have turned into a storm #germanyvibes

No F2 kids driving 😢

Great images of the paddock however

George has played some football with a duck

Nicholas has said I’m p1️⃣, George has said no you’re not 💖 and proceeded to add a 9️⃣

Twitch streams are not allowed but insta yes ? What an injustice 😡

Spanish lessons with Carlos Sainz and Lando Norris oléééééé

The helicopter doesn’t have balls apparently 🤨

Mazepin in Haas ?? 😤 I hate it there

Seb has shown to Mick his 🇩🇪beautiful🇩🇪 tribute helmet

Talking about helmets they were all beautiful 😍

Hulkenberg was the eventual remplacement for Albon too, this man has seats everywhere but their not his completely 🙂🙃

The sun went like 👁👄👁 on Friday’s late afternoon

Mick has spoken french AGAIN, does this boy WANT to KILL us with his UNBEARABLE cuteness ??

Charles p4 tf lol

And Antonio Q3 !!! Happy Italian noises

Lando finally outqualified his teammate, you’d love to see it 🤧

It’s still cold apparently

Great first laps battles 🙏🏼

Kimi has gone straight into George 🙄

And Alex has gone straight into Daniil 🙄

Presidential alert: the girls are fightinggggggg

Remember when we fought that Valterri was going to win the championship ? We were so naive bzck then...

IT’S BWOKEN AGAIN

and Lando did a Nando

and his car turned out to be in fact, a barbecue 😳

Rain ??? No rain ??? Maybe rain ????

F1 STOP FILMING THE WEATHER DATA ON THEIR SCREEN JUST TOLD US WHEN IT’S ACTUALLY RAINING

Bye George 😘✌🏼

Bye Valterri 😘✌🏼

Bye Esteban😘✌🏼

Bye Lando 😘✌🏼

Bye Alex 😘✌🏼

Safety car in, Lando out oops

Drivers stop being mean to Bernd challenge 😔😢

A lot of unlaps

They have wanted SILENCE, poor engineers

Kimi no reaction, I may think that he’s actually a very well-conceived cyborg, sent to earth for wearing controversial symbols and pissing off journalists 😐

A lot of pieces has went full YEEEEEEEET

First podium for Renault since years !!!!

Maxiel podium 🥰🥰🥰

Seb’s thumbs up for Nico

Nico congratulating Renault

Cyril is going to have a sausage as a tattoo, and it’s ✨beautiful✨

No shoey Daniel forgot about it so he did it in his room, weird flex but okay

Mick and Lewis and Michael and the helmet and the guy who saved the helmet on the podium (thank you for your service sir, this gesture would never be forgotten)

Lewis has shown that he is the legend by smashing all records 🤴🏾

Hulk p9 babyyyyy, does someone have a seat for him please? 🥺

Romain first points !!! But with a broken finger 😰

Daniel being congratulated by everyone 🥰🥰

Christian being obsessed with cyril’s tattoo on Max’s radio, sir your love is showing 😜

Nico Rosberg being all of us and has tried his best to have the maximum of infos, what a lad 🤧

94 notes · View notes

kazbrkker · 4 years

Text

Chapter 10: The Price of War

Chapter summary: The events of Highway of Death told from Alex's perspective. Alexis' real name is finally uncovered, and one of her captors' identity is also revealed. (3327 words)

Warnings: Hadir's betrayal, character death, flashbacks of almost death.

"Come on, stay with me!" an unfamiliar voice bounced around her head.

Was Alexis dreaming again?

Alexis was definitely dreaming again. Which was how she knew this was reality. Because she knew when she balanced over the thin line between life and death, she would dream. Sometimes she dreamt of hungover mornings and coffee runs with Maddox and the crew, inhumane circuit laps with Mactavish and Price, or the countless times Alex talked her ears off with the desire for another tattoo.

The pain that ached all over her body, accompanied by the abnormal brush of coldness told her it was time. Time to meet your maker.

She heard this joke once, and this sure as hell was the punchline.

"...keep squeezing... hand–"

Hadir? Was... was she really dreaming? This couldn't be real.

Worse were the dreams conjured by fear. The ones that took her right back to St.Petersburg to stare down the shimmering flames. The feeling of raw flesh after endless interrogations. And the reminder of wearing her blood like a second skin. It was she never left that tiny jail cell.

Alexis remembered the crackling of the flames. It was all that filled her ears. Her captors were missing. She was in the middle of nowhere.

The fire blazed a slow path straight for her like she was the final goal to reach. It tore down wooden crates, engulfed the flimsy curtains and went straight for her. Like the fire had a mind of its own and knew it wanted her.

This was it, the end of her legacy. Her stories were etched in flesh, and her book would be the grey stone in Arlington.

The salty tears streaming down her bruised eyes should have hurt, but didn't. The roaring fire snuffed out most of the oxygen and thinned the air. Her head was growing heavier by the seconds, eventually resting it against the grimy walls.

There are worse ways to go, she tried convincing herself.

When she started to drift away, she summoned enough energy to raise a fingertip over the wall—finding her name carved into the stones. Her real name.

Maybe, hopefully, somebody would remember her.

Her dreams manifested into her sleep over time. When she dreamt of St.Petersburg, she'd wake up with her mouth gaped wipe, like she paused mid-scream. Her fingers would tremble and she'd force herself to give in to her shaking legs and remain seated. She'd whisper to herself that it was only a dream. It'll stop.

Until it didn't.

Today, with her back on the ground, eyes rolled back, Alexis dreamt again.

The worst wasn't knowing she was going to die—that was the price of war. She had long made peace with the Grim Reaper. It was knowing she finally had something to live for.

Maybe this time her dream wouldn't stop.

━━━━━━

FIVE HOURS EARLIER:

29 October 2019, 0730 "Alex" CIA with Urzik militia Darus, Urzikstan

Alex hopped off the truck, inwardly expressing gratitude that after hours, they'd finally arrived at their destination. Though the aura of a village filled with rubble and dust in its silence put him off.

Ribbons of the early sun had already splashed across cerulean blue canvas. Behind him, Alexis blew a low whistle. He turned around to discover her standing in the middle of the elevated road—looking heavenward.

"What a view. Exactly the one I pictured–" Alexis marvelled.

Alia stopped her, "You picture your death?"

"Of course. You'd be surprised how disappointing death can be."

Alex kept a blank face despite feeling his heart drop. Apparently his cold shoulder treatment was starting to draw attention—evident when Farah arched an inquisitive brow beside him.

He returned with a shrug, still nursing his anger. He was pissed to be kept in the dark about Alexis' mysterious call. Her standoffish behaviour was from an all too familiar playbook that Alexis always operated out of—the masterful art of dodging.

It was exactly what happened after St.Petersburg. Which was why Alex had to intervene before it took a turn for the worse.

"You're out of it. Anything I should know?"

"What should you know?"

Answer a question with a question.

"If you want to lie to my face, go ahead. But I won't stand here and pretend to believe you."

"For CIA, you have no idea how to deal with women." Farah nudged him up the flight of stairs.

Only then did Alex realised he was spacing out. Although that couldn't stop him from thinking about how the early sun practically bathed Alexis with a halo. "Or... I know exactly what I'm doing," he smirked, climbing two steps at a time.

Farah smacked his arm, "Ah, don't play the game, play the man. I believe that's what you Americans call it." In combat, Farah was all expressionless and cold, but when the commander was out of the field, sometimes she allowed a certain amount of lightness to grace her smiles. They bumped fists with a knowing grin.

"Zip it," behind them, Alexis knocked Alia's head loudly, "Don't even think about dying."

"They'll have their hands full with her up there," Farah mused.

He heard Alia's terrible attempt at whispering—asking Alexis what he pictured for his deathbed. The cunning young lady certainly deserved an ovation. In more ways than one, Alia really was the splitting image of a young Alexis. Another loud whisper came from the young girl. "What do you mean he's not angry! You must be blind."

Alex recalled that one particular vacation in Bali that birthed this conversation. Just the two of them laying on the beach, free of woes and war. Three years felt like a lifetime ago.

"Throw me out of a helicopter, shoot me out a canon. I want my corpse to rain from the sky."

"Go out with a bang?" Alexis sipped on her frozen margarita, laying on a beach chair unbothered by the world. "That is very you."

Surely that sounded like an exaggeration. But if Alex had it his way, he would. Unfortunately, there was already a plot in Arlington reserved for him.

"Something like a sky burial," Alexis answered for him. Flashes of her chocolate hair loose on her shoulders and sunburnt cheeks left his mind. Alex felt her eyes burn into his back. "He's... weird."

"I heard that."

Several wobbly ledges later, they reached the vantage point that overlooked the highway, Hadir passed them two custom made sniper rifles. A larger than usual smile appeared on Alexis as she geeked at the custom rifle. It was almost comical—her jumping around while donning a ridiculous head gauze. While Hadir's impressive rifle put her in a good mood, Alex suspected it was Hadir, Farah and Alia responsible for this lighter shell of Alex.

He missed this version of her—not haunted by demons of her past. Trust it to be Urzikstan to draw out this side of her again. He'd do anything to make this Alexis stay.

"I'd watch that recoil, Lexi."

Alexis flashed a smile, pushing past him, "And I'd worry about your shots, babe. Trajectory is a bastard in this wind."

He set into a prone position right beside her, getting into tune with the new rifle. Then, Alexis cleared her throat loudly, winking into her sniper scope.

"Say, this cold shoulder treatment is getting a little old..."

A second later, she fired a clean shot into a watermelon 600 yards away. Hadir rejoiced in his native language, "Your fruit killing skills are remarkable, Alexis!"

"Don't I know it," Alexis winked. He sensed her scheming face before she even wore it, "Alex, since we're out here swatting flies, what do you say to a friendly competition?"

That interested him, "What's the catch?"

"No catch," she shrugged. "One minute. Whoever shoots the most is the winner. And the loser..." There was a glint in her eyes, "Has to do anything the winner says."

His eyes landed briefly on her grinning lips before he agreed.

The playing field was set: plastic bottles, some rotten fruits and crates. His index finger rested snuggly on the trigger, head lowered to dial into the scope.

"Okay! One minute starts..." Farah paused, "Now!"

Pulling the trigger was an unconscious effort by now, a steady exhale later and in between heartbeats, he fired. Right off the bat, he shot through one plastic bottle nested across the highway. Beside him, Alexis missed her shot, mumbling about how the recoil was too strong.

"Is the prize not enticing enough?" he mused, aiming for his second trophy.

"Only if you lose," her airy laughter made it hard to suppress another smile.

Within fifty seconds, it was a tie. It came down to the final plastic bottle. It was difficult to line a shot with the sun glaring right at him. Still, Alex kept his shoulders levelled and spoke with confidence, "Any last words?"

"You first."

Exhale.

Shoot.

Heart hammering in his chest, they watched collectively as the single bullet tore through the plastic bottle, leaving a gaping hole in its wake.

"And that's how it's done!"

Alex tilted back to reach Hadir's high-fives. "My brother, your biggest fan," Farah smiled.

For someone who lost a bet, she didn't play the role. With a charming smile, Alexis' fingers snaked the curve of his wrist. Alex pretended she didn't just jolt him awake with a simple touch, "So. What am I supposed to do?"

"I know just the thing," a brash grin slipped back onto Alex's face, thinking how he had more luck than skills. Or maybe it was an added motivator.

━━━━━━

Everything went wrong quick and fast.

When Price radioed with news, they expected the Wolf to scramble their way. What they didn't expect was Barkov's company.

Alexis split from the group, taking main overwatch at the next building beside them. Her injuries worried him. But their promise to inexplicably trust each other in the field triumphed his concerns. An enemy sniper across the highway was picking Farah's army off one by one. And Alexis... "Dropped his ass!"

That's my girl.

Winking into his own scope, he burst the tires off a suicide truck with a single shot. The one upside about this shit show was that Barkov's army helped clean up the Wolf's men for them.

He dodged back into cover just in time when a bullet whizzed past him. Shit, they found him. Farah panicked, "We need help! Where is Captain Price?"

"Won't make it in time! We need a Hail Mary for these fuckers!" Alexis shouted over the crossfire.

He spared a quick glance to check on her. In the blinding sunlight, her hair turned into a colour that reminded him of bitter tea. Several stray pieces of hair stuck against her sweaty neck. Alexis was still holding her weight, but it was obvious she was growing weary.

But no amount of energy could change the fact that they'd be boxed in by the enemies soon. And Farah and Hadir had too much honour in their cause to retreat. Alexis was right, they needed an ultimatum.

"I've got more firepower in the truck! Alexis, cover us! And Alex, follow me!" Hadir nudged him. Alex left the rifle at his nest and dropped down the ladder to follow Hadir.

"Hadir! Please tell me you have a big enough stone!" Alexis yelled past the gunfires.

"The biggest, sister! They won't know what hit them!" He followed Hadir in and out of different houses.

Without warning, a spray of bullets burst through the battlefield. Alex didn't think much of it until Farah yelled Alexis' name in a state of manic. His first instinct was to charge back in their direction, but Hadir kept a death grip on his forearm, reminding him they only had a small window to make this work.

This better fucking work, Alex thought. Dying on the Highway of Death would be too prophetic.

"My truck is full of explosives, very powerful explosives, it's time to use them! Open the tailgate, quickly! I'll cover us! Open it, Alex!"

The truck held canisters of– "Russian gas?" The entire time Alexis and he spent looking for leads of the stolen gas...

Hadir stole them?

"Yes! And now we send it back to them!"

It was too late. The tremors of an explosion, the screamings. They were lucky not to be swept in the explosion radius, but from the green gas that now terrorised the air, that was the least of Alex's worries. Soldiers irregardless friend or foe, doubled over to cough their lungs out. Blood sprayed ruthlessly in the air before they collapsed.

"You said we needed a big enough stone. This is it, Alexis!"

"No... No no no! Not like this–" Her sentence cut off.

Alex was on autopilot at this point, blindly following Hadir back into a house. Only Farah yelled through the comms, but it was radio silence from Alexis.

Please be okay. Although the raw coughs outside the bunker made him feel foolish for harbouring hope.

The gas worked quick, already blurring his vision. His head spun wildly and his throat scratched. The deadweight of his combat vest alone was enough to make him flop like a raggedy doll. His weakness fed his panic. Alex held onto the bunker's walls with every bit of strength still inside him.

Alexis, he recited over and over again. Alexandra Ward.

Bring her home.

Find her. Find her. Find her.

If Alex hoped the incantation could hold power for him, he was greatly mistaken. One step forward, he crumpled down the floor like an abandoned puppet.

"Hadir–" Alex's vision floated in and out, unable to see Hadir. He briefly registered a new weight over his face. A gas mask. Alex slurred through his words, "Alexis... Find..."

He fought against losing consciousness, not knowing when Farah ended up in the bunker, but only knew she was alone. "Alexis!" he weakly tried their comms again.

Fuck, stay the fuck awake. Not like this.

He channelled all the remaining energy he had, however little. He didn't stop, not even when his breathing slowed, his vision now appearing in phases, or his urge to vomit his guts out. Frantic, he reached for anything he could get his hands on–

His fingers flexed, not even able to feel the texture of leather of his gloves. All he could do was that, and blink to keep himself awake. Hadir was mumbling incoherently about something, not wearing even an ounce of regret from the mere silvers of sight Alex peeked through.

Hadir ran out the door like a coward. Some part of him prayed for the shred of Hadir's humanity to find Alexis.

Alex swore he saw the sun outside melt away, turning his world blue in twilight. His last thoughts were about a certain Bali sky.

━━━━━━

The buzzing of a helicopter shocked him awake. Alex shot up immediately, realising they were still in the bunker. It was deadly quiet, too quiet. Then he realised it was just his blocked hearing.

His world still swirled on its own axis when Price and Kyle came running in. Staring blankly when Price shouted something he didn't understand.

Alexis. The fog in his brain cleared. He kneeled his way over to the unconscious women who laid beside him. Using all his might, he propped her into his lap, fear-stricken when blood stained his hands.

Where did that come from? He hurriedly wiped the molten blood off her head, finding the opened stitches to be the root source.

"Holy shit, captain," Kyle deadpanned, a face full of dread, "This is bad."

Price wasted no time before scooping Alexis up and away to the helicopter.

Alex was thankful for Price who supported the weight he most definitely couldn't: the weight of Alexis dying in his arms.

━━━━━━

It must have been only a few hours of solitude Alex had since they returned to base. Laswell sent all of them to medical immediately—and Alex answered with a clean bill of health. He might be out of the woods, but his hands wouldn't stop shaking.

An unmistakable voice roared outside his ward, followed by someone yelling. He cursed loudly when his eyes snapped open. Did everything have to be white and smell of ammonia?

When his door swung open, he immediately shoved his trembling hands into the sanctuary of the hospital gown's pockets. In his doorway, his glazy vision told him someone was propped up by two other figures. Once his vision finally registered who she was, he bolted over. Much like him, she had an IV drip in toll.

Alex caught her by the waist when she faltered. "Farah," he gave her a once-over, "They cleared you?"

The commander nodded, stepping into his room with feeble steps. Although Alex suspected Farah's ashen face wasn't the result of the toxic gas. He passed her the tray of hot porridge that sat idly on his table.

His hands dropped when Farah eyed it in concern. He cleared his throat, jerking his head to the tray. As expected, Farah rejected it too.

"I'm sorry, Farah," he started, tracing the IV needle embedded in his forearm. For strange reasons, it calmed him. "Hadir..."

"Is my brother," Farah said sharply, "I should have known..." Alex rushed to her defence, but Farah raised her voice in both sadness and anger, "No Alex, I should have known. It is my job as his sister. Hadir was losing faith in the militia, but I pretended not to see it."

Alex averted his sight away. Unsure what to say to comfort Farah. He couldn't begin to understand, nor did he want to pretend he could. Farah rubbed an exasperated hand over her face, "Hadir killed most of my men. And..." Her voice wavered, eyes shining brighter under the blinding fluorescent lights.

"Alia," he said on her behalf.

How did everything go sideways so fast? Five hours ago, all of them were squeezed in the back of a truck, wind in their hair and laughter in their words. Alexis had promised Alia to a hamburger after this shitty war passed, because the war-torn girl had never seen one, let alone tasted one.

"Hadir will pay." Again, Alex remained silent. What could be worse than hunting your own brother? "And if Alexis... doesn't make it..."

Alex sighed, still rubbing circles around his IV. Farah's words all but gutted him.

Alexis tried going back for Alia, which prolonged her exposure. Her open wounds sent her condition from dangerous to life-threatening. The ringing in Alex's ears was so loud but he managed to hear something about chlorine poisoning.

Alex tiredly pressed his palm against his eyes, trying to force the memory of Alexis' rigid body out of his mind but only received another vision of her intubated with an oxygen ventilator. "The Cipro and antitoxin are a wild shot. They're more worried about the fluid in her lungs."

To Alex's surprise, Farah picked up the bowl of porridge to eat. The smallest of smiles tugged across her lips and somehow it made Alex feel much better. "I have no doubt she'll wake in a few hours. She's a tough one."

Alex remained silent.

"Maybe we should try dangling that forsaken ration pack she loves," Farah tried to joke, but her tone felt otherwise. A few seconds later, she continued, "Alexis survived worse. She will pull through."

Was Farah talking about St.Petersburg? It almost slipped his mind that she was the reason for Alexis' safe return. Well, her and... Hadir.

Hadir's betrayal would break Alexis... If Alia's death wouldn't.

Maybe guilt encouraged Farah to supplement the gaps in Alex's understanding, but she explained everything. From the burning house, Alexis' threatening to leave, to how she delivered Alexis safely to St.Petersburg. Whatever Alex knew was from the mission report, the gruesome details blacked out for clearance. The way she described Alexis' injuries induced nausea in him again.

But something else Farah said intrigued him. "A few weeks after Alexis left, the mercenaries returned to Urzikstan. Demanding blood for the American, they said."

Alex leaned out of his chair upon hearing this. It was a piece of the puzzle the rescue task force was couldn't collect. Even the joint task force of JSOC, CIA and SAS ran up cold leads as to who was behind the kidnapping.

"One of the men mentioned a name, Gaia."

‧͙⁺˚*·༓

a/n: alexandra... ward!!!!!!! her name is strictly need-to-know so we gotta thank alex for his pov lmao. & i'm pretty sure her injury counter is through the roof rn. but cheers to me for beating up my characters lol.

alia though... i'm absolutely gutted over this.

taglist: @shigarakiluvbot @wanderlustgiant @captain-pikas-world (wanna be tagged? lmk!)

#call of duty x oc #call of duty x reader #alex modern warfare #alex cod #echo 3-1 #john price #captain price #kyle garrick #farah karim #hadir karim #kate laswell #oc: alexis #ysrwrites: kl #killer instinct #modern warfare #fanfiction

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imaginetheending · 3 years

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Vacant Chapter 1 Preview

Here is a preview of Vacant chapter 1. To read the rest go to: https://www.wattpad.com/story/254655449-vacant-the-devil%27s-son

Chapter 1

It's hot outside.

Blood and dead bodies occupy the only decent shade. A trail of blood leads to the forest. It's created by Scouts dragging soldiers away by the straps of their boots. Grains of sand are crushed under Rapture's feet as they shift in the sand. He's been acting off since that morning, thinking of something else.

"Where did the furniture come from?" I ask.

In front of us, under the second floor of a three hundred year old building, sits worn down, used dressers, cabinets, and beds against broken and crumbled down walls.

"Probably from one of the traders" he responds.

One of the traders…

I'm impressed. All I own is a rusty mattress and a romance novel I kept when I was captured. These people managed to sneak in an entire dining room set with a working kitchen and chairs. Whoever did this has to work for Imports.

"I want you to come with me," Rapture says suddenly, dragging his fingers over the sides of his mouth.

Rapture is quite scary when you first meet him. His head is shaped like a human skull with hard features extruding from the back. His eyeballs are black just like mine, but he has golden lizard-like irises. After you get to know him, tough, he has a charm. A very sarcastic charm.

Without another word, he starts walking off. Adjusting my gun, I follow him. Angel does, too. The gear makes it hard to tell the difference between us. The only way to identify a Scout is by our bodies. Each species has a different body structure. Especially the legs. Since Angel is the same species as me, we have very similar forms. We both have thick female legs with no feet and big Canals. Compared to humans, our torsos are quite masculine.

Apparently, my big identifier is hips. I have thick thighs. It's true. I can crush a man's head between them, but the observation still feels somewhat perverse. Soldiers make similar comments towards Angel.

Lieutenant Bade, Angel, and I are Rapture's bodyguards. We follow the General around while he does his duties. It's not the most exciting job in the world, but Rapture is the best swordsman on the planet. No one messes with him. It is a safe, cushion position compared to the conditions other soldiers lived in.

"Angel, could you leave us? I want to talk to Siren alone," Rapture says.

We both look at each other. Angel steps back, not sure what to do. It takes a second for him to join the other Scouts.

I follow Rapture into the forest. After a while, it becomes grey. The pale, thin trees cover the bright sky. We walk for hours back to a part of camp I have never seen before. This is dangerous, I thought, for the two of us to be out here alone. However, whatever part of the forest this is, no one visited.

In the distance I see a small wooden cabin between an assortment of tree trunks. It has to belong to a General. No one else is allowed housing. The lights are off for the dusty building, though. We keep walking for another ten minutes, and arrive at an even bigger house -- a small, one bedroom home. Just like the rest of the planet, the exterior looks like old, American human architecture. On RubenDies, you can probably find a house like this for super cheap in a bad part of town, but here -- well, I have never seen anything like it.

Rapture grabs the door handle and yanks it open. The door stutters releasing dust and plant pores into the air. I am careful to breathe it in. He enters.

Dark inside, I can barely see the living room from the front door. Cautiously, I step inside. A thick smell overwhelms me. It's not a bad smell, but it's potent. Like someone lived here for a long time.

Both the living room and kitchen are small. Sun seeps through the closed blinds onto a rusty, old pale, orange refrigerator. The cabinets are dirty -- crusted. A small wooden dining table sits in front of it. There are more than one chair. Multiple people live here. Lived here -- I should say.

"Where are we?" I ask.

Rapture doesn't respond. He just walks between the dining room and living room towards a bedroom in the back. It's the only thing that lit up the hallway. My footsteps are unbelievably heavy on the wooden floors. I don't think Scouts are intended to be in here. The bedroom itself feels frozen in time. Nothing has been touched in years. There are still dirty clothes laying on a white bed sitting in the center of the room. Dust has collected on all of the wooden furniture. There's a couple nightstands and a dresser.

I'm scared to touch anything.

This doesn't bother Rapture at all. He grabs one of the drawers and opens it. After rummaging around, Rapture pulls out a stack of thick, white, plastic paper. He gives them to me, and I realize they're photos. Very small, rectangle photos. Each one is stained with dirt and muck. It's hard to tell what they consist of. The helmet makes it even harder. Rapture talks to me as I look through them, my eyes trying to make out vague shapes and sizes.

Each one shows a very attractive, young man that's the same species as me.

Most of the species outside of the Milky Way don't have names. We found no reason. It wasn't until the Human Reformation that it changed. Humans got confused by our lack of categorization, and decided to introduce a naming system. So, for clarity sake, I'll call our species BSBE.

The young man sits on a hotel bed, arched forward. A gaudy, geometric tattoo covers his sickly, gray, toned back. There are dog tags hanging from his neck. In each photo he is wearing different tank tops. In this one, it's white.

"Zerethus had a son. He escaped ten years ago," Rapture explains.

Oh, I see. I know who Zerethus's son is. Who didn't? The female camp whispered daily about him after his escape. By the time I made it to the male camp, the rumors had died down, however. All I know is that Cain isn't liked very much, and that he is permanent with most of the female camp.

In the second photo, he sits in a swimming pool, shirtless. It's at a wealthy establishment. The orange walls of the fancy hotel reflect off the blue, crystal water. It gave some color to Cain's dull skin.

"Zerethus has been looking for him ever since," Raptures continues as I shift to the next photo.

Cain is smoking a cigarette. He is maybe twelve or thirteen years old. A train of smoke trails to the sky. His expression is calm. Happy.

"I want you to find him before Zerethus does," he says.

My hand freezes. I heard his words clearly, but stammer.

"You want me to find Cain," I ask confused.

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

When the soldiers brought me to Edeon, they asked me for my gender. Stupidly, I said female, and was thrown into the female camp. From that day on, my life was shit until I got kicked out. Edeon doesn't like women. They never did, and my presence in female housing left a mark. Everyone knows I lived there. Everyone remembers.

I want to object. Ask him questions.

"No, sir," I respond instead, cowardly.

I would send anyone on this mission but me. The Generals are some of the best fighters in the galaxy. They're trained to search and find targets. As a Scout, I am also trained to do this as well, but I am nowhere near as talented. Finding Cain would be a high profile mission. Only the best of the best would be put on it. I am not the best.

Send Dante. Or Felix. Or Moon. Angel. Reaper. Hades. Pain. Cerberus. Vnux. Serpen. Dalen. Gabriel. Michael. Archer. Rion. Tarli Nobi. Th'Aman. Brani. Xani. Kreniea. A'Zule. Feri/ Q'Urlid. Achan. Meni.

Literally anyone but me.

"Who is my lieutenant?" I ask.

Every soldier gets a lieutenant when sent off the planet. They watch over the group. Make sure everything goes according to plan. If he picked anyone to go with me, he would pick Bade. Bade is pretty good. He'd make up for my lack of skill.

"You are," he obviously lies.

My mouth falls open, "What?"

No, I wasn't. This is the biggest bullshit I have ever heard. First of all, there hasn't been a new lieutenant in over ten years. Second, the only women of power on Edeon are Lieutenant Reaper and General Mourning. No one even knows how they got promoted. Third, if I was promoted, I would be promoted by Zerethus himself. So, something is very fishy.

Rapture cups his hands, and smiles.

"The mission is simple. Give Cain a message. The Devil is looking for his son. He wants to cut off his wings. He'll know what that means."

"Where is he?" I ask.

I remember that I still have the photos dangling in my hands. While he continues, I look at the next one. Now, Cain has his arm draped over Angel's opal, white shoulders. Huh. That's weird. In our species' culture we don't touch each other, but they seem chummy. Either Cain is straight as fuck or they were in a relationship. Bold for him to have this photo as a part of his collection. All homosexuals get killed on this planet. There isn't a warning. It happens suddenly, and mercilessly.

"The Luminary. He works for an agency called The Eye. Goes by Hayze Redborn. Was put on a mission recently to find an Alex Hall. Code name Aex. He's a super hacker."

Cain is butt naked in the next photo. It's in the same room as we are standing in now. He's maybe eighteen. Every detail of his muscles subtly defined, his body is gorgeous. Due to the pose, and moody lighting, this is definitely a selfie. Luckily, the photo cuts off at his penis, but you can still see the top of the shaft. I laugh. Why would you take a photo like this on Edeon? We don't have Be-book. There are no dating profiles or blog posts.

"If you catch Aex, Hayze may follow," Rapture says.

The last photo is the worst. It's just his dick.

This guy took a dick pic.

I roll my eyes. How many women did he try to show this to? Knowing his reputation, he probably sent this to multiple. It's girthy. Long. Blood rushes under his skin creating purple. His skin is smooth. There are only a few faint veins. The top is round and soft. There is no color difference between the tip of his penis and the base, outside of some discoloration. He has a pretty penis. I have to give him that.

"Siren," Rapture scolds venomously and grabs the photo from my hand. He rips it in pieces and then slams it into the dresser.

Oh, shit.

I don't think he knew that was in there.

My hand hangs loosely from where the photo once was. Scared, eyes fixating on him, he's mad. After a moment, he brings his hand to his face and makes a loud sigh. He takes out another sheet of paper from his pocket. This one looked like it was printed off an old printer. It's very faded. It is a much more recent picture of Cain. Cain is much older, and worn down. In the old photos, he is vibrant and active. Here he is dead inside.

His skin is a very healthy baby blue. The black that consumed his eyeballs is clear, and not glossy. A couple other things are off about his appearance, but otherwise Hayze and Cain are identical. Over his shoulders he wore a deep, aqua blue coat. It had a very nice, faintly, shiny, textured material. Under it, he wore a black shirt similar to the ones he wore when he was younger. His dog tags could be seen through his fabric.

Behind him, a short, gray-ish brown overweight being stands at a podium wearing a nice, trim suit. His species is a cousin of Rapture's. They look very similar, but this species has more than two eyes. The overweight being has the appearance of a government official. A banner hangs behind him. It's a symbol I feel like I should recognize.

"What happens after I tell him the message?" I ask.

"Protect Cain with your life," he remarks. To continue reading go to: https://www.wattpad.com/story/254655449-vacant-the-devil%27s-son

#vacant #writing #writeblr #scifi #science fiction

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puddlns · 6 years

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Not For Long

» TAGGING: Alexander Petrov and Elizabeth Babineaux » LOCATION: Astronomy Tower » THREAD: Alexander & Elizabeth meet for the first time after their betrothal is revealed. » NOTES: None in particular.

She probably shouldn’t be as nervous as she was. It didn’t even make any sense; all they had to do was meet, perhaps talk a little, and part ways until they were supposed to be talking again, and God knew when that would be. Perhaps they wouldn’t even talk again until they were getting married; something Elizabeth was okay with as it meant more time to hopefully undo the arrangement and buy herself still some more time. She partially didn’t want to meet him because then that would make everything all too real… this was the beginning of the end. Just the same, she calmed herself pacing slowly, humming, and ultimately looking over the railing of the Astronomy tower.

Why this location of all places? She didn’t know, but perhaps it was to soften the blow this all entailed. Her parents were perhaps obsessed with dumb, useless, shallow things, but they still cared for her, deep, deep down. And Elizabeth couldn’t deny it; the view from up there was nothing short of beautiful, and it was teeny tiny glimpse of hope and calm that numbed down her glow; still noticeable of course but not as strong as it was when it came to feeling nervous. He should be here any minute now unless he wanted to upset everyone involved and make it worse for the two of them, which she was heavily hoping he didn’t.

Alex stood outside the Astronomy tower doors staring at the door knob. He could go up there. Do as his parents wanted him to (as per usual) or, he could walk away. And just say to hell with them, their traditions, and their money. Fuck them. That was after all what he was best at doing. Fuck it if she is pretty. He would prefer her to be ugly. Something to shove in their face later. Maybe... if he did go it would only to be to shove all the negatives of her in their faces. Curse them and the fact their fetus's that would be born would be nothing more than ugly likenesses of their late grandparents. Plus, what would this girl want with him? He was trash. He was all the negatives put together and that was how he liked it. She would try to change him. make him into something he wasn't. He wouldn't' take it.

She would want to leave after knowing a guy like him couldn't be changed. She wouldn't love him. So, what was the point? He was better than that. Alex scanned the window size to the right of him. But, what if...he could surprise her. Scare her. Then she really wouldn't want him. He could fit through the window after all. His animagus wasn't that big. Closing his eyes he relaxed his shoulders as he could feel his body deforming taking shape of now what replaced his slender, tall frame was a King Vulture. A slender masculine bird with a white body, blue eyes, and black feathers. His feathers tattooed by the vial he wore around his neck. Like a red pendant in the center of the birds chest. He hopped on the window sill and took flight. Soar above he found a blonde head waiting at the top of the Astronomy Tower. He circled her. And as he did so, he realized, she was beautiful. He hated it. One less thing to curse his parents over. With a single smirk to himself, he flew closer circling above her head. Wanting to her the fright. And in doing so, he flew to the cobblestone tower stoney ground before showing his true form to her. A smug Alexander gleamed at the girl as his back leaned against the tower edge with his arms folded across his chest. What a pretty squeal.

Elizabeth wasn't feeling very comfortable there after a few minutes, nervousness growing more and more as she remembered she wasn't as well acquainted with the school as she would've wanted to be. The sounds from the background were a lot more noticeable now that everything else was in relative silence with the time it was. More and more she felt like she was better off leaving, since the guy in question hadn't showed up and by now, she felt like he wouldn't at all. She sighed. So much for wanting to do things right as her parents expected. After all, she was doing this more out of love for her sisters than actually being happy about a betrothal. Who could ever be? She also had to admit the sudden sound of a huge vulture circling the tower was making her uneasy so, it was pretty pointless to remain there waiting for nothing. She turned on her feet, very decided to leave... at least she was, until said vulture flew around her, too close to her liking. Elizabeth let out a frightened shriek, soon tripping over her feet as she tried to get away and landing on her knees, scraping one in the process. She sat down, bending the affected knee to inspect the damage, before she heard and saw something else in front of her. The vulture was long gone, replaced by the figure of a young man. Was he the one she had been waiting for? "Was... was that you?"

Alex smirked with a huff as he elevator eyed the girl from bottom to top. She was pristine; just like the good little pureblood girl she appeared to be. “Obviously.” He rolled his eyes softly. She was apparently as pretty as she was dumb. “I assume you've never seen an animagi before. Intrigued?” Alex pushed off from the wall as he walked up to her taking her pretty little blonde curl in between his fingers letting the curl swirl with the twist of his finger. “I see my parents sadly did not disappoint.” He sighed stuffing his hands in his pockets with one fluid motion. “I didn't expect you to be so attractive.” He stated bluntly.

Elizabeth couldn’t believe this was her luck; bound to be married to someone with no tact, no cares, and apparently no manners either. Along with the blush appearing on her cheeks as it was implied she was dumb, a soft silvery glow framed her figure as she looked away from him momentarily. “I have seen one before, but not in the same circumstances.” She got up slowly, minding the scraped, somewhat bleeding knee and looking up at him when he twirled one of her blonde curls around his finger, and out of instinct, she pulled away. She had partially thought her veela heritage would soften him to her to a degree but that hadn’t been the case. Maybe yours did not disappoint, but mine sure did. She lamented in silence. “Maman is a full veela.” She explained simply, staring down at her feet.

Alex’s eyebrows flickered upward in curiosity. Ah. veela. There was something he could use against them. As she lowered her head to the ground Alex observed her mannerism. She was so small. She bunched together. Like a bug trying to take up as little space as possible. “Mmh. I see. How sweet.” His voice seemingly monotoned, dripping with a vague hint of a sneer. “And, how do you feel about that gorgeous?” He liked the way she pulled away from. Basked in the effect he had on her. “Here my mother is a snake. Sadly, no cool silver glows come with her abilities.” He peered down at her knee noticing the slight him of iron in the air. As he removed his wand from his robes and a single flick of his wand her knee cleaned up and sealed. “Can't have you looking nothing but perfect.” He yawned softly placing his wand back in his robes and leaning back against the wall gazing over her features once more with a curious gleam.

Elizabeth: If this was just about her she would’ve dropped the nerves the minute he continued to talk to her as though it was nothing but a burden, she would’ve let her temperament seep through instead of staring at her feet... but sadly, it wasn’t. Her sisters mattered the world to her even if to their parents they were nothing short of inconvenient, and if helping them meant having to give into a marriage devoid of love or respect then... so be it. “How do I feel about what? Maman? It is what it is, I suppose, and I am what I am, whether I like it or not.” She argued in a soft tone of voice, one of her hands settling on the rail at the edge of the tower, looking at the view, seeking some consolation in it before she effectively exploded. “You are allowed to think what you want of your parents.” At least now he acknowledged she’d gotten hurt, but didn’t apologize; something that irked her but decided not to mention. “I do not think I have to ask if you dread this deal. It is obvious by now that you do, Monsieur.”

Alex glossed over her features. It was with surprise to him that with such beauty she would be more confident. A strong head held high not gazing down at her feet. As her silver hue lightened he could barely feel the tingle she gave him but it could have been more if he let it. He had over the years learnt to switch off his humanity in a way. Maybe it was his own fault though how he loved to blame his parents. Granted, most of his “problems” were theirs to blame. After spending so long away from a social hand to hold he had learnt that the only one he could depend on was himself. He didn't need anyone else. At least, that was what he thought. “No. I never said that. If anything, your mannerisms say you'd prefer a different mate than I. You don't know me gorgeous. I could be riveting with excitement at the thought of marriage.”

Elizabeth only remained in her otherwise timid position for a few more seconds before looking up at him. So far she detested him with all of her might and something told him he didn’t want anything else from her. As though he could rid himself of her if he bothered her enough. Too bad for him, Elizabeth was far more dutiful than that. Duty for her sisters more than that she probably owed her parents. She inhaled, readying herself for everything that was about to seep through, fearing his reaction as much as she desired to see it. “I would prefer not having to marry at all. The lack of a decent mate is just an inconvenience on top of the first. My name is Elizabeth, not gorgeous. And I quite frankly do not care how you do or do not feel about this. If there is no way for you to undo this, do not count on me to break it off. It is final.” She swallowed after ending her last sentence, gave him another look, and walked past him, decided to leave the tower before she said anything to make things worse.

Alex watched quietly as a smug appeared on his features. Looks like there was some fight in her after all. As she approached the tower door Alex pushed off the wall, “And just like that. Poof. You don't like me. So easy when you know nothing about someone. Nice to meet you Elizabeth.” And with that he transfigured back into his comfortable state, jumping up on the pikes of the castle barrier looking back once more at her as a sad, sullen face took over his animal like appearance. With a sobbing caw he took flight towards the lake. No one would could love him so, why even try.

#C: Elizabeth B #W: Alexander

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x-oc-blog-x · 4 years

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Inside Avas’ OCs

I got a questionnaire from mibba.com for OCs gonna do this for my favorite OCs

Jackson Canmore

Basic

1. What is your full birth name?

Jackson Michael Canmore

2. Any nicknames?

Jack

3. When were you born/how old are you?

November 2. I am 19.

4. If immortal or slow-ageing, what is your apparent age?

I’m not immortal. That’s be cool though

5. Where were you born?

London, England. I moved to the US when I was 2.

6. Who were your parents?

My mom is alive. Her name is Angel. I never knew my dad.

7. Do you have any siblings?

8. Where do you live now?

In the US

9. Who do you live with?

I used to live at home with mom but after oli and I finished school we moved in together.

10. Are you right or left-handed?

Right.

11. What words/phrases do you regularly use?

I like to cuss. My favorite word is ass. I don’t know why.

12. Name some habits or strange quirks you have?

Cussing is definitely a habit. I like to play with plus hair. I also like to make him blush

Appearance

13. Height: 5’ 10”

14. Weight: 130 pounds

15. Skin Tone: I’m very pale.

16. Body Shape: I’m kinda tall and skinny

17. Hair: I’m dirty blonde

18. Eyes: green.

19. Face Shape: I don’t know man. What does it look like? Tell me.

20. Everyday Dress Style:usually a white shirt with my black jean jacket. Ripped blue jeans. Converse.

21. Formal Dress Style: i don’t know. I don’t really go to formal events. But probably a casual suit? I don’t do fancy.

22. Any Jewelry? Maybe a neck here or there. I don’t really wear anything but the ring oli bought me

23. Any Scars? No

24. Tattoos? Not yet

Growing Up

25. How would you describe your childhood in general?

I was a pretty weird child actually. I ate play doh. But I was wild. I was always the tough kid. Not really. I talked tough though. And I never had attraction to girls growing up. I always knew I was gay. My mom was super supportive of that. She said she still loved me, which definitely helped make me to supportive and loving person I am. I don’t think I could have done anything without my mom.

26. What is your earliest memory?

My mom and I went out to ice cream and I saw a guy get chased by the cops. I might have been 4.

27. How much schooling have you had?

I just graduated high school.

28. Did you enjoy school?

It wasn’t bad. I wasn’t bullied. I had Oli, Misha, and Collin as friends. And they are all great.

29. Where did you learn most of your skills/abilities?

School, mom, and youtube.

30. Any role models while growing up?

The flash. My mom.

31. What did you want to be when you grew up?

I wanted to be an astronaut. I now want to just have a job from home. I do commissions for art and photography.

32. What was your favourite thing to do?

Other than being with oli? I like to draw, take pictures, and play video games. I like to watch Netflix too.

33. Were you popular?

No. But I wasn’t an outcast either

34. Who were your friends?

Misha, oli, Collin.

35. When and who was your first kiss?

My first kiss was with a boy named Liam. I was 14.

Past Influences

36. What do you consider the most important event of your life so far?

Moving out with Oli

37. Who has had the most influence on you? My mom.

38. What do you consider is your greatest achievement?

Being confident. I was really insecure in middle school but I worked on my self image a lot. I’m proud of that.

39. What is your greatest regret?

Not asking oli to date me sooner

40. What is the most evil thing you have ever done?

I tripped a kid once with his lunch tray in his hand. He bullied Misha.

41. Do you have a criminal record of any kind?

42. When was the time you were the most frightened?

When I got on a plane when I was 14 to visit London with my mom. I hate heights.

43. The most embarrassing moment of your life so far?

I peed my pants in 1st grade. Also being afraid of the Ferris wheel.

44. If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be and why?

I want to meet my dad. Would I be different if I knew him? Why did he leave?

45. What is your best memory?

When oli and I had our first kiss. We were sitting in a tree.

46. What is your worst memory?

Definitely watching these homophobes best oli almost to death in a bookstore because we held hands.

Beliefs and Opinions

47. Are you more optimistic or pessimistic?

I’m in the middle I guess.

48. What is your greatest fear?

Heights.

49. What are your religious views?

I don’t believe in god. I’m an atheist.

50. Political views?

I know this is gonna seem like common sense but some people don’t believe the same???

Everyone is equal. Gays, straights. Girls, boys, trans, non binary, etc. I also think people with a uterus should be allowed to have abortions. Immigrants are okay to come in the country. Black lives do matter. Guns are gross. Etc.

51. Views on Sex?

I really like sex. I even one time went to a party with oli and it was a truth or dare party. Let’s just say it was not pg13. It was R.

52. In your own opinion, what is the most evil thing someone could do?

Not accept someone for something they can’t change about themself.

53. Do you believe in Soul Mates/True love?

Kind of. There are different kinds of soul mates that people don’t talk about. There are friend soul mates. Romantic soulmates. Yeah.

54. What do you base success on?

I know this is dumb but how mainstream someone is. Like. Everyone knows we sheeran. So he is successful. Sorry.

55. How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings with yourself?

I’ve always been honest with how I felt because I know that negative emotions are okay to feel.

56. How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings with others?

I tend to keep how I feel to myself because I don’t want to bother others. I can handle myself.

57. Do you have any biases or prejudices?

Yes. If you don’t respect the lgbt+ community we can’t be friends. If you honesty just can’t respect someone’s existence being different than yours such as ableism and racism and the lgbt+, we can’t get along.

58. Is there anything you would absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances?

Bungi jumping. Sky diving. Nope nope nope.

59. Why would you refuse?

WHAT IF I FALL??? ID DIE.

60. Who or what, if anything, would you die for?

I’d die for my friends. And my mom.

61. What do you feel the most passionate about?

Human rights for the oppressed.

62. What one act are you most proud of?

I went to my first pride parade with my mom at 13. I was so happy that I wasn’t alone and that I was part of something.

63. What one act are you most ashamed of?

Disrespecting my mom when I was a little shit. She is the world. I love you mom.

64. Are you a leader or follower?

Leader.

Relationships

65. In general, how do you treat people you don’t know well?

I treat everyone with respect unless they give me a reason not to.

66. How do you treat people you do know? With love :)

67. Who do you respect the most and why?

My mom. She went through so much shit growing up and she didn’t deserve that. Also Oli. I’m proud of him for surging through all the bullshit he faced getting bullied for being out at school. And he survived getting kicked out by his parents. I’m proud of them both.

68. Who are your friends?

Misha, Collin, oli, Rex, Loni, Alex

69. Who is your best friend?

Oli, Misha, Collin.

70. Ever been in love?

Yes

71. Who do you consider family?

Oli, Misha, collin, and my mom.

72. How close are you to your family?

Very

73. Who do you turn to in desperate times and why?

Oli and mom because they have been there for me through so much.

74. Who do you trust to protect you and why?

I trust that all of my friends would, but I don’t expect them to.

75. Who do you despise the most and why?

That guy who almost killed Oli at the bookstore.

76. Do you tend to argue or avoid conflict?

I argue. I don’t deal with bullshit.

77. Do you care what others think of you?

I don’t in most cases, but I’m afraid to be gay in public because of those guys hurting us again.

Sex and Intimacy

78. Do you consider yourself straight, gay, bi, trans or something else?

Gayyyyyyyy

79. Do you have a significant other?

Yes. Oli.

80. Describe them:

Sweet, loving, kind, supportive, smart, and hot as hell.

81. What is the perfect romantic date?

Dinner at home. Then maybe even sexy sexy time.

82. Best sexual partner?oli

83. Worst sexual partner? Oli has been my only consenual partner. So there isn’t really a worst unless you count my sexual assault.

84. Worst thing you’ve done to someone you love?

I broke Liams heart when we dated. I broke up with him because it didn’t feel right anymore. We both changed. It didn’t work.

Likes and Dislikes

85. What is/are your favourite hobbies/pastimes? Drawing, photography, video games, cuddling.

86. What is your most prized possession?

My ring from Oli.

87. Favourite colour?

Black

88. Favourite food?

Spaghetti

89. Favourite movie?

The fault in our stars

90. Favourite TV show?

The flash.

91. What, if anything, do you like to read?

Young adult dystopian novels

92. What style of music do you like?

Pop and emo

93. What is your idea of good entertainment?

Most media like tv. Music. Any form of expression.

94. Do you smoke?

Ew. No

95. Drink?

Absolutely not.

96. Drugs?

No.

97. Typical Friday night?

Spending the night with Oli

98. What would be the perfect gift for you?

A new camera? I don’t know.

99. Rain or Sun and why?

Rain. The sun burns my skin cause I’m so pale.

100. Day or Night and why?

Night. It’s so calm at night.

101. What makes you laugh?

Jokes. Oli. My friends.

102. What shocks/offends you?

Anyone who does not support equal rights.

103. How do you deal with stress?

I usually go to my room and listen to music.

104. Are you spontaneous, or do you feel you always need a plan?

Spontaneous.

105. Any pet peeves?

I can’t stand when people chew with their mouth open.

Occupation/Study

106. Do you have a job or are you studying? I do commissions on the internet.

107. If so, what is it/what course? Photography, drawing.

108. Do you like it? Yess.

109. If studying/not working, where does your money come from? That is my only income.

110. What is your boss/teacher(s)/agent/publisher ect like? I am my own boss and I’m pretty cool if I say so myself.

111. What are your co-workers/other students like? Nah

112. Do you get along with them? I don’t have any

113. What is something you had to learn that you hated?

DRAWING HAIR. OH MY GOD IT WAS SO HARD.

114. Do you tend to save or spend your money?

Spend

Misc.

115. Describe the routine of a normal day for you: wake up, cuddle, eat, draw, photography, hang with Oli, eat, sleep.

116. What is your greatest strength?

Being a leader and being able to handle hard situations

117. Greatest weakness?

I’m not very smart and I make dumb decisions sometimes

118. If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?

I would want to be a better support for my friends

119. Introvert or Extrovert? Extrovert

120. Organised or messy? I’m a bit of both

121. Three things you’re good at:

- drawing

- listening

- photography

122. Three things you’re bad at:

- anything heights

- writing

- math

123. Do you like yourself?

Mostly

124. What is your life goal? To be happy

125. Where do you see yourself in five years? Hopefully married to oli and a baby

126. If you could choose, how would you want to die? Quickly. I don’t want to suffer. But I want to go in a way that doesn’t hurt everyone as bad. Natural causes.

127. Three things you would do with 24 hours left to live? - marry Oli, spend time with friends and family, and write a will.

128. What is one thing you’d like to be remembered for after your death? Being badass. Just kidding. I want people to remember me for trying my best to be there for those who needed support

129. Three words to describe your personality?

Badass, confident, kind

130. Three words others use to describe your personality?

Extroverted, goofy, and strong

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medjaichieftain · 7 years

Text

Silence Watches The Mummy and The Mummy Returns – Musings, Headcanons, Criticisms, & Observations About Ardeth, Horus, and the Medjai - [Part 1 of 2]

This is going to be… such a random hodgepodge of stuff, heh. I’m going to number them just to give this big wall of text some structure, but they’re not in any specific order. And by all means message me or comment somehow on anything you read here. I would love to discuss any one of these things! =)

[1.] What are the Medjai, really? Medjai means “bodyguards”, I think. If you listen to Imhotep at the beginning of the first movie, right before Anck-su-namun takes her life, he says something that is translated into the “Pharoah’s bodyguards,” and he definitely says “Medjai.” In the second movie, Nefertiri calls for her father’s bodyguards to help him, and she also called them “Medjai.” Back to the first movie, Ardeth describes the Medjai as “we, the Medjai, the descendants of Pharoahs’ sacred bodyguards.” I always took this to mean blood descendants, but I think I was wrong. I think they are occupational descendants, not bloodline descendants. The reason for this is because the Medjai are also described as being this secret society of warriors (except for the one dude who was managing the library, probably so that the rest of them would have a decent informational contact). They appear to be all men, in scouting/hunting parties, out on the sands, keeping watch over stuff, right? How do they get more Medjai, then, heh? Do you ever see any kids? Or even any women? I think that in the world of The Mummy, there are tribes of nomadic desert people who call the Sahara home who actually live in family units, and then there are the Medjai, who I think come from all those other tribes. The curator of the library in the first movie says that they are “sworn from manhood to protect,” which to me means that it is a choice and that they don’t become Medjai until they come of age. So I think the Medjai are not a family society in and of themselves, so much as they are comprised from warriors of many different tribes in a given region who take an oath to essentially give up their family lives to take on this immense religious and moral duty. That is not to say they never visit their families at all, but I think it is more an occupational vow and not one passed down through bloodlines. This is further confirmed for me by Rick supposedly being a Medjai in the second movie, because… I’m sorry but his pasty White ass probably does not have any Egyptian blood in him, haha, so it’s more likely that he is not a descendant of any Pharoah’s bodyguards. But… neither did he choose to enter the Medjai at manhood, so Rick kinda confuses me. He said he got the tattoo at an orphanage, and didn’t even know what it was. That… doesn’t seem to fit with how the rest of the Medjai function. How can you be a warrior for a god you don’t believe in when you don’t even know that you are one in the first place? Which brings me to the pronunciation of the word “me-djai.” It changes, heh. By the second half of the second movie, everybody (including Ardeth) is saying “mah-djai” instead of “meh-djai.” As in, magi? As in… a group of wise men who know a lot of shit that you should pay attention to? I wonder if this was meant to be a play on words that further illustrates the roles that the Medjai played in society or whether the actors all just got lazy in pronouncing the damn word, heh. I’m thinking the latter, but eh… food for thought.

[2.] We never actually ever see Ardeth’s Medjai tattoo on his wrist, the one that would match Rick’s. He wears a leather bracelet that covers it up, and actually, so did Rick in the first movie. Since the Medjai are supposed to be a secret society, it makes sense, but then in that case I wonder why they would cover the wrist tattoo but then put tattoos on his face and the backs of his hands. Not very secret anymore, is it?

[3.] As much as I love Ardeth, his character does annoy me a little bit in that he is an obvious plot device. In the beginning of the first movie, the Medjai are seen as scoundrels, villains, and evildoers. They attack without warning, they’re savage, they have scars, and they’re older looking men. We are not privy to any of their names and we can’t see all of their faces clearly. Even the music that introduces their presence is sinister and ominous in nature. We are taught at first to see them as villains, and this annoys me because it is totally based on the social concept of “The Other.” This nebulous, not clearly defined, nameless, faceless, “other” person that you cannot feel anything for or identify with or even consider a human being because they are “other” than you. It is unfortunately the basis for a whole lot of religious, ethnic, and cultural stereotyping and prejudice. It is not until we meet Ardeth, who is coincidentally the only Medjai given more than a couple innocuous lines, a much younger guy, devoid of scars that we can see, a seriously good looking dude, amazing hair, haha… that the Medjai suddenly have a face and a meaning. From then on they’re good, noble saviors, warriors for god, and protectors against evil. I’m not saying don’t view them that way, I’m just annoyed that they are portrayed as 100% evil at the start and then 100% good later on. The truth is somewhere in the middle. Maybe their cause is good, but they do kill innocent people for it and their methods can be cruel and violent. Necessarily so? You decide? But still… why must they be either black or white morally speaking? They are somewhere in between and they should have been ortrayed that way from the start. Instead, they start out as blanks, as “Others” to us until we’re shown a pretty one and then suddenly we care, heh. That urks me a lot, which is why I go out of my way to notice background Medjai in both movies and wonder at their lives and deaths. I would have appreciated the fleshing out of at least one other Medjai besides Ardeth. It is a shame that neither movie ever bothered to do that.

[4.] I have been thinking about Ardeth’s alignment, that is, his moral compass. Ardeth is not 100% Good in terms of alignment. He is Lawful Neutral with Neutral Good tendencies. He is willing to kill innocent people to protect hundreds of thousands of other lives. He admits this himself verbally when Evie asks him and the head librarian guy if their actions warrant killing innocent people. Any Medjai is prepared to do just that. Their cause is to protect the greater good, not to save individual lives. That’s where the Lawful Neutral comes in. However, he has Neutral Good tendencies. What this means is that… sometimes… Ardeth is willing to go against his code and/or act in favor of Good. So maybe here and there, he does decide to go the distance to save one or two lives (he threw himself at the mummies at the end of the first movie to allow Rick and Jonathan time to get the Book of Amun Ra and escape), and maybe sometimes he will choose to go against his vows to the Medjai in favor of a personal commitment (choosing to stay with Rick, Evie, and Jonathan to help them find Alex in the second movie instead of going off on his own to let the other chieftains know of their location after Horus is shot down). He also gave the Americans and Rick’s group in the first movie time to leave their camp when it was attacked, saying he would shed no more blood, but they had one day to leave. He should never have allowed them that day if he was adhering strictly to his duties as a Medjai, but his Good tendencies wanted to spare lives.

[5.] So I have come to the conclusion that Ardeth wears “high heels” because he rides a horse, heh. I’ve gotten a bunch of comments on his wearing high heels and wtf is up with that, haha, and I think it’s because he needs the heels to grip the stirrups of his horse. That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it. XD

[6.] Okay but like… why didn’t the Medjai just move the Book of the Dead somewhere people wouldn’t find it instead of constantly fending off people who came to Hamunaptra looking for it? Without it, no one can wake Imhotep, right? So… relocate it out in the middle of the freaking desert somewhere where the Medjai know where it is but no one else does, and guard it. If everyone thinks/knows it’s at Hamunaptra, put the damn thing somewhere else? Why didn’t they just do that? Because there would’ve been no movie, that’s why, haha.

[7.] The other Medjai who died in the beginning of the first movie… did Ardeth know them? It is likely that he did, since he was the regional chieftain. So he would know and command all Medjai in that area. Otherwise, he wouldn’t even be in the story because this wouldn’t be his region, heh. So… did Ardeth send those men there to attack the boat in the beginning of the first movie, and if so, did he and his other men mourn the fact that they did not return? He certainly knew the ones who initially attacked Hamunaptra, because he was right there fighting with them. What was the conversation like after they left that night… with only half the men they came with? The bodies of the men were just left there, and not another word was said about them. Do they have some sort of agreement that bodies aren’t recovered due to time, danger, or resource constraints? If so, what do they bring back, if anything, to the families of these men? How are they honored/recognized for their dedication and sacrifice? I’m sure Ardeth would say/do something to honor them. And then how does losing so many men on a regular basis affect him emotionally? It really makes me wonder.

[8.] So for those who didn’t know this, Ardeth was supposed to die at the end of the first movie. The scene where his gun jams while Rick and Jonathan are trying to excavate the Book of Amun Ra and he has his iconic line, “Save the girl. Kill the creature,” and then he throws himself at all the mummies in the corridor? Yeah, he was supposed to die then. But apparently test audiences liked Ardeth so much and were so upset that he died that they actually changed the ending to include him… and then gave him a much bigger part in The Mummy Returns. (Thank you test audiences, omg, haha.) That’s why he’s just kindof gone for the whole final battle at the end of the first movie and then scares the shit out of Jonathan at the very end sitting on his camel, heh. But it makes me wonder… The Pharaoh’s bodyguards at the end of the first movie were, by definition, also Medjai. If the makers of the movie had decided sooner that Ardeth should live and he had been involved in that battle, would those undead Medjai still have gone after him, or would they recognize him as one of their own? I really wonder about that… and about why the Medjai mummies would be helping Imhotep…? That made no sense…? Like what all was in what Jonathan read that told them hey, forget your duties in life and go help the guy who killed your pharaoh?

[9.] What’s the deal with Ardeth and Lock-Nah? They knew each other by sight and they knew their full names. And the very slight head cant Ardeth gives when saying his name gives me a “(sigh) here we go again with this guy” vibe. Lock-Nah too was smiling like “hey… this guy I love to pick on!” And it seemed like that kind of relationship to me, like… Ardeth has probably tried numerous times to foil the cult of Imhotep over the years and this guy Lock-Nah probably pushed back, screwed him over, and generally engaged in bombastic fuck you-ery to the point of Ardeth just being sick and tired of him. And from Lock-Nah’s point of view, he thinks he’s better than Ardeth in every possible way and enjoys watching him fail. The way he watches Ardeth fight the other cult members in Evie’s house toward the beginning of the second movie with this amused condescension, and then makes the comment, “Not bad… for a Medjai,” is indicative of his perceived superiority over Ardeth. He says “Medjai” like he’s saying “scum of the earth” or something, heh. He has no respect for Ardeth as a person, for the Medjai as a society, or for the morality for which both stand. What makes me think that their relationship is more than just soldier-of-virtue vs. immoral villain is Ardeth’s emotion whenever he fights him. And I’m not saying he cries or makes comments or even shows a range of emotions on his face, it’s just that he looks… to not have the same level of concentration on his face as when he’s fighting Anubis’ army, for example. He’s serious then, focused, confident. With Lock-Nah, there’s a sense of “if I don’t keep on my toes and pay attention I’m going to die.” Maybe Ardeth perceived Lock-Nah to be a better fighter than him, skill-wise. Or maybe there was more to their relationship that we didn’t get to know. By the time he faces him in the jungle of Ahm-Shere, he’s comin’ at him yelling out this battle cry and just going for it. Whereas in the beginning of the movie he seems uncertain of himself, by the time he gets to that duel at the end, there’s a savagery that comes from Ardeth that is just rare to see. The next time you see it, pay attention to the death strokes Ardeth makes, the last two strokes with his sword. Maybe I’m reading into stuff (which I love to do) but he seems ragged, emotional, and just a bit angry like, “stay down, asshole.” It makes me think that Lock-Nah did something to Ardeth or to his life or family or screwed up some mission that was really important in the past… and things got a bit personal between them. Some have said that he’s avenging Horus but he never saw Lock-Nah fire the shot that killed him, so I don’t think that’s what it is. Unless he just assumed? I guess we’ll never know. I love too how when Lock-Nah finally does fall, he has this look on his face like, “Huh. Shit. Wouldja look at that. Bastard finally killed me.” Haha. Damn straight.

[10.] Ardeth gets wounded twice (in Evie’s house and on the bus) in the second movie and never tends to the wounds at all. We never see these wounds again, and in all honesty it doesn’t even look like his clothes are torn. This is just like the exhaustion and dehydration issue. As a writer, I have to keep track of all my characters’ wounds and how those wounds would impair the characters. So it irks me in movies when I see a character sustain a wound that then just disappears by the next scene. Ardeth should have been hurting from those slashes and claw wounds. At the very least, his clothes should have remained torn and he should have had a bandage on the wounds.

[11.] Do all tribes of the Medjai shop at the same clothing store? They all wore the same exactly tunics and sashes. I understand wearing the same basic fabrics and styles, but if these were regional chieftains or commanders of larger tribes, they should be from all over the Sahara and possible even from near other cities and towns. I don’t think they would all have the same outfit from all those different tribes. When all the commanders were lined up they looked like carbon copies of each other. There should have been a bit more variation in color at least if not style and fabric and accessories in their outfits.

#ardeth bay #horus #the medjai #the mummy #the mummy returns #meta

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cwdcshows · 5 years

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Supergirl - S5 E3 - Blurred Lines

I'm begrudgingly considering watching Batwoman, mainly because I'm OC'd and I'm watching the other DC-CW series, but God damn, I catch glimpse of it whenever I cue-up Supergirl and the DVR has recorded the last few minutes of the preceding Batwoman episode, and it's not inspiring me with any confidence. It apparently takes them 3 episodes to give her, her God damn hair - the hair we saw Batwoman sport nearly a year ago in the crossover, meaning at least part of this season is set in the relative past, presumably. But then we get this bullshit commentary about "the bat being back, but curvier and sexier," like fuck you. How the hell can you tell what this person looks in this suit? And so much for the urban legend angle. More importantly, how dumb is it that they have work so hard to come up with her name? Are we supposed to believe anyone was seriously considering calling her "Batchick"; while "Batwoman" flies under the radar? Moving on.... So at the end of the last episode, we see Billy-the-Kiss ass volunteering at a shelter; now he's hassling some guy at a night club about playing ball?

Of course Kelly gives random people she meets on the street unsolicited advice about their lives; because nothing makes someone more sympathetic than someone who likes to stick their nose into other people's business. And it seems this show has once again tricked me into walking into a double entendre. It's her job to listen to people? What is Kelly's job? She's so boring and last season seems like a lifetime ago, I have genuinely forgotten. Is she supposed to be a therapist or something? I suppose that explains her guiding J'Onn through this ordeal in the previous episode; I was wondering what made her qualified to do that, but it seems completely incongruent with the high tech coporate setting they've put her in. And Alex going from Kelly giving advice to her barista to being kidnapped by a shape shifter is a hell a segue. I have a feeling Alex has been waiting hours to find the right opportunity to bring that up; and it would seem she cracked under the pressure. "You don't want a world full of robots, you just want better people."

Oh.... Idiot Jed..... How does Brainy even function? Data was more adept at picking up behavioral cues. Wait, do people really like reading about death? I mean, I'll read the obits in my weekly hometown newspaper; I try to make it a point of at least paying respect to he recently deceased by reading their name and age at the time of death, but I'm don't go out of my way to scan for newspapers with a corpse on cover. Interesting aside, I was reading said newspaper just last night and noted how a local woman had died at the age of 44 - certainly a tragedy for a family to lose someone at such a fairly young age - and then I also saw that it noted her "husband of 30 years" and now I'm left wondering if one of those numbers was a typo or if this woman got married at 14..... So she hears Billy's heart beating fast and has to use her x-ray vision to confirm it? What else did she think it could have been? Okay, so Kelly is a Doctor. Yet the place she works doesn't remotely look like a hospital; and the staff don't look like medical staff. They (and the set) looks like they're trying to audition for a future JJ Abrams Star Trek film. So Kara is going all over the world to get lunch and coffee, but are any of these items going to still be hot by the time she gets back to the states? For that matter, how the hell does manage to carry all of this shit? I have a hard enough time carry my order from McDonald's from car the dozen or so yards into my house; especially if I have to also carry in anything else besides the bag of food and my drink. The couple of time I had my niece with me also got her something I absolutely asked the server at the drive-thru to put it all in one of those plastic bags they normally put salads in, because they have a handle - a fact I learned not because I have ever previously ordered a salad from McDonald's, but rather because I asked them if they had a bag with a handle they could put my order in to make it easier to carry and they responded, "you mean like a salad bag?" and I respond, "yeah, whatever." I'm just picturing Kara rigging up some sort of harness or something she can wear to help carry things around as she flies internationally; thumbing her nose at all of the customs agencies and international trade violations she's willfully causing. Also, now that Brainy has set it up so her suit materializes as soon as she takes the glasses off, shouldn't she get more clear of the doorway before doing that? That also raises the question of what happens when she just wants to lounge around without her glasses or is going to bed. Does she have to sleep in her suit now? Is it bonded to her skin? Is there a snooze button that allows her to take off her glasses and not activate the suit? What if she just needs to remove her glasses to get something out of her eye or to clean the glasses? Or those times like earlier in the episode when she just brings the glasses down just slightly to use her x-ray vision? What's the point of no return her glasses have to pass before the process starts? Can it be immediately reversed when she put the glasses back on; or is it something you have to wait until it's all the way done before you can go the other way? There are so many questions..... Seriously, Kara, Lena would be the only person interested in Lex's journals and there'd be no other constructive use for them other than therapeutic? Wait just a damn minute, she took her glasses all the way off to x-ray the dead body and didn't generate her suit. What the fuck? You lied to us Brainy. You lied and that can't be forgiven. What, the boy being called J'Onn might be J'Onn? Whodda thunk it? Although I suppose J'Onn might be a common name on Mars, like John, Jacob or Jingleheimer Schmidt. I can buy that children on Mars or other planets even might develop games similar to hide and seek; it's a basic concept that seems fairly plausible. What doesn't seem plausible is that children on Mars would play this game as humans. So in the last episode, J'Onn hit a wall in trying to recover his memories; and it was suggested that trying to use the Q-wave technology to go any deeper could do damage to J'Onn. Now this episode J'Onn barely has to try, with the help of a woman who isn't even a telepath. Kara can fly halfway across the world to get lunch for her and Lena, but forgets to put in an delivery order for dinner with Alex - come on Kara, strap on your harness and go get dinner, chop, chop! You know, if Terrible-Boss gets and more terrible, Kara could probably make bank moonlighting with GrubHub. Or start her own food delivery service - SupperGirl Should Brainiac have a clapper, as opposed to say, Alexa? Now that I think about it, why is Brainiac using his appearance filter when they're home alone or when he's sleeping for that matter? Surely these devices don't have an unlimited supply of power; and Brainiac shouldn't be concerned about his appearance in private. Guardian: "Yeah, I came prepared." With what, a glow stick? Seriously, is this supposed to be not-Spider-woman's not-Kryptonite? Did I miss a whole big schpiel about this alien thing have some special weakness? And why didn't Supergirl likewise come prepared? Also, who looped James into this? Was it Kara? "This device uses magnetic resonance to attract the heavy metals in their ink." You really could have just said "this device des magic" and it'd make about as much sense. Especially since it's not really ink, but rather some type of alien life form that only mimics the appearance of a tattoo. Are we supposed to be surprised that it was actually J'Onn who did the mind wipe? Like I mentioned with the last episode, I'm fairly certain he's wiped other people's minds without the permission; and we definitely know he's done it with their consent. In the last episode, Kelly was able to use her contact lenses to enter J'Onn's mind and interact with him in real time. Now it appears on a computer monitor and there's a time delay. In spite of this apparent de-evolution of the technological ability to merge one's mind with technology, this is still some next level shit that the characters just seem to be glossing over as no big deal. So if this...shadow... could kill bug-lady so easily, why even need her at all as an assassin? Was it for the plausible deniability of the target seeming to die of natural causes Is this going to turn out to be the Shadow Thief? Maybe Shade? I kind of hope it's not Shade. I know he (or sometimes she) has been a villain, but I kinda liked the run in the comics when he was an immortal good guy. Come on Brainiac, there's a fucking difference between "operating at 100%" and the fucking nuance of going overboard with things like food and poems. It's the sort of difference between being able to open a fucking door and ripping clear off the hinges; or holding someone's hand gently or crushing it. It's unrealistic to suggest that this quasi-organic-AI doesn't realize you can't go "full thrust" on every conceivable thing, because nothing in nature could function that way. And if he really needs things in those terms, then it's a matter of variable comprehension of where those critical thresholds are; because 100% maximum food consumption in a meal is not dozen whole pizzas. That is more than 100% of what one person can physically eat in one sitting and therefore should exceed his logical behavior. On the flip side, mazel tov when things turn physical and Brainiac brings this type of mindset to the bedroom....

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"You were right, I was too open and too trusting. It's all my fault." Fuck you Supergirl Writers, for trying to bring this back to the opening bit between Kelly and the random person she was offering advice to on the street. J'Onn's brother manipulated Kelly by appearing to her as someone she knew and had at least enough of a past history with as to have a photo of him in her home. Had he appeared as the street barista or was just walking along the street not even looking for Kelly when Kelly came along, randomly zapping people with Q waves to help make them feel better, whether they asked for that help or not, sure, that would be "her fault". But this was a sneaky fucking telepathic shape shifter was determined to get your to do what he wanted; and while admittedly it barely took him much effort to convince you, it was only because you were legitimately doing what would have been the right thing under any other normal circumstance. "For a friend like you, there are no boundaries." Alright, now the writers are just fucking with us with these two. So Kara evidently didn't just pop in and grabbed the books, but also the watch too; seems she decided that so long as she was committing a felony, she might as well get her money's worth - and I suppose that makes sense. Is stealing some journals and a watch worse than just stealing the journals and not the watch, if you've only had to break into the one place? Next we'll see that she just cleared out the whole evidence lock-up, because you never know when you might need something else that's being held in Federal custody, and that way she's only had to break the law once; anything after that is just curation.

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cryhavok · 7 years

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the prison gives him back his clothes.

alex didn’t even know they had kept them, but they give them back in a wide plastic bag that says summers, alexander on it in black sharpie. for a long moment he just holds the bag in his hands, staring at the blue denim peeking out from under the soft grey cotton of the t-shirt he was wearing the day they arrested him.

DANVILLE HIGH SCHOOL, the front reads in faded black letters.

alex’s numb hands pull it over his head. they must have laundered it. it doesn’t smell like his cold fear sweat. It doesn’t smell like the gardenia perfume haley was wearing, or the blood-ash of the garage he destroyed.

just fabric, that’s all.

ii.

the outside air on the other side of the prison fence tastes subtly different than the outside air of the yard. the sun is brighter. the colors are more vibrant. without the shackles that usually come with being outside, his wrists feel too light, and he keeps them very close to his sides and squints against the too-muchness of the world.

“how does it feel, alex?” says charles, behind him.

alex tries to say, good, i think. but the words get stuck in his throat.

“why don’t you go pull the car around, charles?” says erik, as alex stares wordlessly into the fenceless space ahead of them.

iii.

three hours in the car and alex is beginning to get a headache. there’s too much movement. there’s too much sound. he’s gotten so used to his world being 80 square feet of concrete that the constant bombardment of information from all of his senses has set his nerves to jangling. mercifully, instead of talking to him, charles and erik have been arguing for about two and a half hours about something so far over his head he hadn’t bothered to listen past the first five minutes.

he sits in the backseat, and closes his eyes, and leans his head into the side panels of the car so that the rhythmic hum of the engine drowns out most of the soft music on the radio and the voices from the front seat.

iv.

at a diner in springfield, ohio, alex orders a club salad because he doesn’t remember the last time he ate a vegetable that he could recognize. it leaves him still hungry, but he’s so fucking happy it’s not meatloaf that he almost doesn’t care.

erik catches him eyeing his leftover fries.

“get something else,” he says. “charles is paying.”

alex realizes it’s been maybe four hours since he spoke, except to order. “---uh,” he says, and looks past him to charles, who he catches in the middle of rolling his eyes, but who nods once he realizes alex is waiting for permission.

he gets a chicken sandwich.

he remembers to say thank you this time.

charles puts a hand on his shoulder once.

alex is immediately overwhelmed with a screaming sense of wrongness, and jerks away like he’s been stabbed. all of a sudden he doesn’t feel human; like he’s too big for his skin, like he’s tearing out of it, like his lungs can’t pump air fast enough to keep him steady. “don’t,” he says.

“i apologize,” charles replies, and doesn’t touch him again.

vi.

at the cia compound is the first time alex has talked to anybody his age in over a year.

hank uses the word “penultimate” in their first conversation and alex wonders if hank is weird or if this is a thing people normally say and he’s just forgotten. darwin claps him on the back, doesn’t apologize when he flinches away, doesn’t give him anything like a wide berth. when alex stares too long at angel’s tattoos she gives him a smile over her shoulder that makes him blush and then steps hard on his foot.

raven says, “high school?” and raises her eyebrows.

alex looks down at his shirt, which is grass-stained from lying down on the grass outside after the cia officers had given him the talk about the terms of his release. “oh,” he says. “yeah. i---need new clothes.”

“anyone know where the mall in this town is?” darwin asks.

vii.

“well,” says hank, “at least it smells clean.”

alex gives him a look. it’s not his fault he had to wait; he’s not allowed to go outside without the cia’s say-so and charles wasn’t here with the money, anyway.

he also gives darwin the look, because he’s laughing so hard he’s doubled over. “oh man,” darwin wheezes, once he’s gotten his breath back, “you look like erik lehnsherr’s closet threw up on you.”

angel and raven walk in and their eyebrows go up on almost perfect sync, raven’s pulling together in the middle and angel’s arching high and unimpressed up her forehead.

“oh baby,” angel says, after the two of them have been quiet for almost thirty seconds, “what did you let him do to you?”

“they’re just clothes,” alex protests.

“terrible clothes,” raven agrees.

viii.

when sean arrives four days later he brings two six packs and a wide white grin. alex is settling enough that he manages to smile back, although it probably looks stupid and painful on his face, stretching muscles he’s not used to using.

“better than prison, isn’t it?” charles asks him, smiling.

alex guesses maybe he doesn’t know that he hasn’t mentioned that to anybody, or that maybe he doesn’t understand why it’s the sort of thing that he would rather keep hidden, but it still feels a little bit like a blow to the stomach, the sudden silence that falls behind him.

“obviously,” erik says, when alex fails to respond, his voice bone dry.

he can tell by the look on charles’ face that he knows he’s fucked up, but it’s kind of too late for that, so he just says, “yeah,” and goes to sit down on the couch again.

“so what’d you do?” asks angel. hank and sean look relieved somebody else asked. darwin is watching his face. raven is looking at charles.

“fucked up,” he replies.

“that’s a shitty answer,” she says.

alex puts his coke down on the table with a loud clunk. “---well, it’s a shitty question.”

ix.

“hey,” says raven.

“hey,” he replies. he’s getting better at returning greetings.

“what’s your favourite colour?” she asks.

“blue, i guess.”

she smirks.

“why?”

“because we need to get you different shirts, and apparently you’re not allowed off the grounds without an agent or charles.”

“yeah.” he holds up his beer, which sean handed him but which he hasn’t drunk from. “i’m... not supposed to have this, either.”

“what size are you?”

“---medium?”

“okay.” she pauses. “you know, he didn’t mean to tell everyone like that.”

“i know,” alex says. they sit quietly on the back steps for a while, looking at the cia agent standing thirty feet out, watching them. he tries to synthesize his thoughts into one complete sentence and comes up with: “he still did, though.”

“i’ve read your trial proceedings,” says erik, casually, when they’re alone in the sparse white room with a microwave and a refrigerator that serves as a kitchen. “most killers i’ve met tried harder to escape justice.”

alex tries to decide if he hates or appreciates the bluntness of killer. “i did what they said.”

“did he deserve it?”

does anyone deserve to be turned into a haze of blood droplets and bone fragments? even if they were out to kill him? even if they were out to kill haley? what deserves the death penalty? alex wonders. what is worth becoming the executioner?

“i don’t know.”

it was an accident.

erik raises his cup to his lips. “next time, be sure.”

xi.

“hey, alex,” raven says, “come here. i need a partner.”

alex looks up from the pinball machine. “what?”

she throws a pool cue at him, which he only barely catches before it hits him in the face. “charles and erik are trying to hustle me. i want to teach them a lesson.”

erik grins widely at him when he appears in the doorway and says, “alex, why don’t you break?”

the first game goes so badly that it’s clear everyone is trying to throw the game or just really bad at pool---alex sinks the winning shot after nearly 45 minutes. the second is faster, but only barely.

the third---best out of three, charles had said cheerfully---takes barely ten minutes and quickly turns cutthroat when the shooting on the eight ball begins. “don’t these have metal in them?” charles asks, weighing the cue in his hand.

“are you really accusing me of cheating?” erik replies. “we’re on the same side, charles.”

alex clears his throat. “---do they?”

“no.”

“good,” says raven, and neatly whacks the last ball into the left side pocket. “because if there were it would be really embarrassing when you lost.”

“uh,” says alex. “raven, you---”

“you forgot to call a pocket,” finishes erik.

raven drops her cue on the table. “fuck,” she curses.

charles smiles at her. “you’ve flown a little too close to the sun, darling.”

“that’s big talk from someone who won on a technicality, charles,” erik points out.

xii.

alex has gotten used to working out every day, because it was one of the only things to do in the cell, and the cia gym is better than the barbell he had. so now he runs in the mornings and visits the gym in the evening.

“hey,” says darwin, sitting on the bench across from his, “throw me that.”

“throw it?”

darwin just holds out his hand, so alex heaves the weight at him, then grins when his arm blurs out of sight to catch it before it hits his chest, muscles turning to grey steel to stop the momentum and then quickly turning flesh-colored again.

xiii.

sometimes when alex can’t sleep (because everything is too loud, or sometimes too quiet, or too much or too little like prison) he goes to sit in the hallway. that’s where he knows angel or darwin will come along eventually, in or out of their rooms. if it’s darwin he’ll sit down on the floor across from him and talk about something pointless; if it’s angel she’ll stand up against the wall next to him and tell him it’s time to go to bed and get the fuck out of the corridor.

sometimes he goes to sit in the main room, which is where sean or raven might be still hanging out if it’s not too late---him with a pack of cards, her with a grin and a hand patting the cushion next to her.

infrequently erik can be found in the kitchen late at night. alex doesn’t try him very often, but sometimes just sitting in silence with somebody is what he’s looking for.

he knows where to find charles and hank, too. he mostly uses the knowledge to avoid them.

xiv.

“i’ve seen other guys who were in solitary way longer’n you turn out fine,” says darwin one evening in the gym, although it sounds like a lie to alex.

in the first few weeks after solitary, he finds himself uncomfortable with mostly everyone except erik and darwin---erik is an exception because he appears to expect exactly nothing of alex in the way of social interaction, and darwin is an exception because he doggedly insists on treating alex like a person even when he doesn’t really feel like one.

at the breakfast table in the morning after alex grabs two apples and only eats one of them, erik doesn’t put down his newspaper or look up. “you’ll adjust to this.”

xv.

the truth is, it does get easier. it gets easier in leaps and bounds at first---after the first day when speaking is too hard to comprehend, the first weeks where being accidentally brushed against feels like getting hit, it gets easier. all of it. dealing with charles, who is still overwhelming on the best of days. dealing with people in general. not having a bolt on his door keeping him in. he gets used to these things so quickly that he almost doesn’t remember how it unnerved him in the beginning to be in a shower that wasn’t built for a crowd.

the easing plateaus eventually. things like talking at a normal cadence are still hard. being touched still makes him want to crawl out of his skin, mostly. but after a while he doesn’t need erik to talk to charles so he doesn’t have to. he doesn’t need raven and angel to tell him when they’re being sarcastic anymore.

alex throws the DANVILLE HIGH SCHOOL t-shirt in the trash.

he tugs on the blue plaid raven got him instead.

#drabbles.#another drabble about getting out of solitary #this time with more xmfc interactions #feat. lowkey dad erik lehnsherr #me: i will write a drabble #me: [ several thousand words later ] uhhhhhh #me: jettisons this into the Void #this was good at the beginning and then got shitty at the end #but like... fight me i guess

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wr8tur · 7 years

Text

SUPERGIRL RANT TIME 7

Supergirl is riddled with plot holes and non existent character development this season.

There were a few people that agreed with how the video evidence would not have been enough evidence for probable cause. I also pointed out that Supergirl could have threatened Snapper Carr that she’ll go to another publication with her story about the aliens missing. Also why didn’t she post anonymously?

These are just evidence of poor scriptwriting. Honestly the show is riddled with plot holes! Like what's the deal with Lillian apparently knowing who Kara was this entire time since she had Jeremiah for years but never made a move? It doesn't make any sense that she would want Jeremiah's help that badly to guarantee a Kryptonian's safety! What could he possibly have to offer that Lex couldn't do/give himself? I mean Jeremiah's been with Cadmus even while Lex was out of prison. Lillian clearly believes Lex is capable of greatness.

Also, if Lillian has the means to create Metallo, why hasn’t she done anything to try and get Lex out of prison? I know he’s probably in a well guarded bunker but Lillian clearly has ways around such things. Wouldn’t her focus be on getting her beloved son out? Wouldn’t she want to make this a mother/son bonding adventure? Lena says Lex is her favorite. Judging from that little tidbit when she saw that thing in the box Lex created when they were in the vault, she clearly knows he’s been doing anti alien things for a while so why would she keep the existence of Cadmus away from Lex? Point is, momma Luthor has been focusing on Aliens when everything that we’ve seen/been told about her makes me think her focus should be about getting Lex out of prison so they can end alien presence on Earth together.

That's another part of sloppy writing! Also I don't believe that Lillian would agree to just send the alien's away instead of ending them! Her goal is to stop alien's from coming to Earth. Wouldn't her character choose to terrify them instead of forcibly evicting them? They could always just come back.

Characters are all over the place and the plots make no sense if you really think about it.

Someone commented on my fic that they Alex is purposely pulling back because she’s afraid of exposing Kara since the last time she acted protectively it exposed Kara. I wouldn’t really call that protective though, it’s more guilty because she didn’t protect Kara in the first place, hence why she got stranded on Slaver’s moon. But I actually mean Alex hasn’t been protective at all this season, even in the beginning episodes, before Alex started dating Maggie.

She gives Kara such shit about exposing her secret in the first season, but then in the second, she lets her have a stranger from another planet intern at CatCo after being on Earth for only a few months?! First season Alex would have definitely talked Kara out of doing this because they knew nothing about Mon El, just that bullshit story he fed them. Season one Alex would have never allowed Mon El the stranger from another planet to get so close to Kara, to shadow Kara and to learn that she is Supergirl in such little time!

That was definitely before she started dating Maggie! And then it even progresses to Alex all but forcing Kara to date Mon and I stand by my theory that she’s doing it so she doesn’t have to deal with Kara, to feel guilty that she has a relationship while Kara doesn’t instead of the reason being that she feels Kara needs a protector. The latter is even more disappointing to Alex’s character. First that she can believe that anyone can protect Kara better than her is just shameful to their relationship in season one. Second, the fact that she would delegate Kara’s care to someone so she can focus on Maggie just makes me lose respect for Alex.

There’s honestly no excuse. She could have asked J’onn to watch Kara or even help her convince Maggie like they did with Cat that Kara isn’t Supergirl but the point is she just wanted to expose Kara’s secret so she won’t have to deal with it. She prioritized herself which is why it’s so disappointing.

Seriously how weak of a character is Mon El that they have to rely on his Daxamite heritage and degrade the rest of the SuperCrew to have him become more favorable?

The writers and show runners basically downgraded everyone, reduced them to romantic subplots, and prevented everyone from having an actual character arc just so Mon can shine? It’s so disrespectful for the first season regulars! Please tell me I’m not the only one who feels and sees it.

It’s like they put him in because they new big strong handsome man can save their ratings. The sad part is they seem to be right because there are those that are just in love with his character…

I’m not actually going to blame CW for this drivel because they do have the Originals and that is most definitely not just catered for tween hearts.

And apparently, there were some that were mad at Kara because she made Mon El cry by not forgiving him right away… I worry for collective minds of those souls that can’t see past a pretty face. Yes, I admit I watched Supergirl because the stunning Katie McGrath is playing Lena Luthor but I fell for Lena because of her character not because she’s played by Katie McGrath if that makes any sense?

Lena’s character has always been strong and independent. She has doubts and maybe some self-loathing but she takes it all in stride. She works for what she has, has trained herself not to react irrationally when people ridicule her, and still has the capacity to care despite being disparaged for most of her life. She might not have muscle but she definitely uses her intellect. Honestly, how did the writers manage to write her so well but then failed epically with Mon El?

But then again, they’re probably going to fuck her character up since they clearly favor Mon-El more.

They’re already degrading Lena’s character by making her ex be Ravi. I mean, love him in IZombie but come on they could have at least made her ex be untouchable badass Roulette! She ran an illegal alien fighting ring but is so well connected that they couldn’t arrest her! She’s clearly got clout, plus having her sniff around Lena’s goods could clearly prompt Kara to want to be her assistant so she can provide Lena protection from the evil woman in the tight fitting red dress and Lisbeth Salander tattoo. That would have been more interesting to see!

But then again, since Snapper is also going to be seen next episode, I’m pretty sure that means Kara’s going to get her job back so our dreams of seeing Kara trail around Lena at Lesbian Corp might have been shot down……..

#lena luthor #lena x kara #karaxlena #LenaIsALesbian #katie mcgrath #supercorp

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perfectly-wasted-youthhh · 7 years

Note

lol binch if I did it you do too, 1-100

lmaoooo spiteful, but whatevs, also mine are gonna be more boring sorry.

1: Is there a boy/girl in your life? Nope!

2: Think of the last person who hurt you; do you forgive them?

Yes in the sense that they’re in my life and I love them but I guess not fully in the sense that I’ll still feel upset sometimes.

3: What do you think of when you hear the word “meow?”

I think of cats. Like what

4: What’s something you really want right now?

To be comfy with my body so I don’t have to stress about it over the summer

5: Are you afraid of falling in love?

No, I’m more afraid of not falling in love (sorry for how fake deep that sounds but for real)

6: Do you like the beach?

Very much, it will be my main habitat over the summer hopefully

7: Have you ever slept on a couch with someone else?

Yes, at like sleepovers, with their feet in my face. Romantic haha

8: What’s the background on your cell?

Amber, it makes me homesick but I like it anyways

9: Name the last four beds you were sat on?

Mine in college, mine at home, Tu’s, and emme’s

10: Do you like your phone?

I’m very indifferent about it

11: Honestly, are things going the way you planned?

No not really, I’m very okay with it but sometimes I feel like more is expected from me and it stresses me out.

12: Who was the last person whose phone number you added to your contacts?

My chemistry lab partner sophie’s

13: Would you rather have a poodle or a Rottweiler?

Neither are my fav breed but I knew a really friendly cute rottweiler when i was a kid so that probably

14: Which hurts the most, physical or emotional pain?

As someone who is overly emotional I’d say emotional pain but I’ve never been through a physical pain that has lasted beyond a dull ache.

15: Would you rather visit a zoo or an art museum?

I’ve never been to an art museum so I’d love to go to one for the experience but a zoo is a guaranteed good time

16: Are you tired?

Mentally yes, but I can’t physically fall asleep haha

17: How long have you known your 1st phone contact?

Alex Raydan, I’ve known him since 1st grade

18: Are they a relative?

Nope

19: Would you ever consider getting back together with any of your exes?

Nah

20: When did you last talk to the last person you shared a kiss with?

tonight

21: If you knew you had the right person, would you marry them today?

I don’t think it would be necessary, but if you could guarantee they were the person I’d want to be with all my life, then yeah I suppose

22: Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

Maybe in the right context

23: How many bracelets do you have on your wrists right now?

I have one hair tie on each wrist for balance, does that count

24: Is there a certain quote you live by?

“Don’t get mad. Don’t get even. Do better. Much better. Become so engulfed in your own success you forget it ever happened.” lmao literally just a quote I found on tumblr but I like it a lot and it makes me feel stronger so

25: What’s on your mind?

u kno I’m plannin my summer aesthetic 24/7

26: Do you have any tattoos?

No, hoping to get some soon

27: What is your favorite color?

Deep green

28: Next time you will kiss someone on the lips?

I have no idea haha, hopefully over the summer but no guarantees lmao

29: Who are you texting?

No one at the moment

30: Think to the last person you kissed, have you ever kissed them on a couch?

yes

31: Have you ever had the feeling something bad was going to happen and you were right?

yes

32: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex you can talk to?

yes, i feel pretty comfy talking to michael, darious and zany. Gettin more comfy with vincent and tu now as well

33: Do you think anyone has feelings for you?

Not particularly

34: Has anyone ever told you you have pretty eyes?

Yes, it’s always very appreciated

35: Say the last person you kissed was kissing someone right in front of you?

I’d be pretty weirded out and wish they would stop lmao

36: Were you single on Valentines Day?

Yessss

37: Are you friends with the last person you kissed?

Yes, i am

38: What do your friends call you?

Binch, dude, bb, bbygirl, aside from the typical just Nikki

39: Has anyone upset you in the last week?

Yes, but my bar for getting upset is pretty low oops

40: Have you ever cried over a text?

Yeah haha I have most of my serious conversations over text cuz I’m a lil bitch

41: Where’s your last bruise located?

Right in the center of my chest

42: What is it from?

Bra was too tight and pressed into my chest

43: Last time you wanted to be away from somewhere really bad?

Physics lecture last Tuesday when I was running on 3 hrs of sleep

44: Who was the last person you were on the phone with?

My mom

45: Do you have a favourite pair of shoes?

Yep, white sneakers

46: Do you wear hats if your having a bad hair day?

No I look considerably worse in hats

47: Would you ever go bald if it was the style?

Probably not I like my hair a lot

48: Do you make supper for your family?

No but my mom deserves it lol so I should try

49: Does your bedroom have a door?

Yes haha

50: Top 3 web-pages?

tumblr, netflix, hulu

51: Do you know anyone who hates shopping?

my mom and dad both hate it

52: Does anything on your body hurt?

Yeah I worked out yesterday so my thighs and stomach hurt

53: Are goodbyes hard for you?

Extremely, I always build them up in my head so I’m always a little underwhelmed and unsatisfied when I leave

54: What was the last beverage you spilled on yourself?

water

55: How is your hair?

It’s okay, I really need to get it cut, it’s lacking any style lmao

56: What do you usually do first in the morning?

Brushing my teeth is always first

57: Do you think two people can last forever?

Yeah I think so, but I think it involves a lot of compromise and effort

58: Think back to January 2007, were you single? hahaha yes

59: Green or purple grapes? purple for sure, the darker the better

60: When’s the next time you will give someone a BIG hug?

Probably june 15th when I say goodbye to my roommates for the summer

61: Do you wish you were somewhere else right now?

Yes, I wish I were home

62: When will be the next time you text someone?

Probably tomorrow afternoon

63: Where will you be 5 hours from now?

Sleppin

64: What were you doing at 8 this morning.

Sleppin

65: This time last year, can you remember who you liked?

Kyle

66: Is there one person in your life that can always make you smile?

Tommy melts my heart he’s precious, same with Charlotte

67: Did you kiss or hug anyone today?

no kissing, and I’m pretty sure no hugging either

68: What was your last thought before you went to bed last night?

lmao “why is no one responding to me”

69: Have you ever tried your hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end?

Yes maybe once or twice, but usually I’ve gotten what I’ve wanted out of situations so go me

70: How many windows are open on your computer?

71: How many fingers do you have?

all of them thankfully

72: What is your ringtone?

the default

73: How old will you be in 5 months?

Still 19 haha

74: Where is your Mum right now?

In vista CA no one try to find her and kill her pls

75: Why aren’t you with the person you were first in love with or almost in love?

Just wasn’t right I guess

76: Have you held hands with somebody in the past three days?

No I have not

77: Are you friends with the people you were friends with two years ago?

Yes!

78: Do you remember who you had a crush on in year 7?

Brody Barnhill

79: Is there anyone you know with the name Mike?

Pipe down Mike

80: Have you ever fallen asleep in someones arms?

Nooope

81: How many people have you liked in the past three months?

I have very fleeting interests in college, but people I’ve liked for more than a few days would be zero haha

82: Has anyone seen you in your underwear in the last 3 days?

Emme and tracy are constantly seeing me in my underwear

83: Will you talk to the person you like tonight?

Nope

84: You’re drunk and yelling at hot guys/girls out of your car window, you’re with?

Kelsey and Amber probably and both of them are telling me to fucking stop

85: If your BF/GF was into drugs would you care?

Yeah, if it was habitual use

86: What was the most eventful thing that happened last time you went to see a movie?

I almost wasn’t allowed to see Baywatch because I didn’t think it was rated R and apparently I do not look 17 and my college ID wasn’t proof enough that I was at least 18 lmao

87: Who was your last received call from?

Me mum

88: If someone gave you $1,000 to burn a butterfly over a candle, would you?

Yes

89: What is something you wish you had more of?

Money and motivation lmao

90: Have you ever trusted someone too much?

Perhaps, but it’s never been to much of an issue, just embarrassing for me sometimes

91: Do you sleep with your window open?

Yes it gets very hot in this room

92: Do you get along with girls?

Pretty much 100% of the time

93: Are you keeping a secret from someone who needs to know the truth?

Nope

94: Does sex mean love?

Nope

95: You’re locked in a room with the last person you kissed, is that a problem?

Nah, maybe a little boring after a while but that’s all

96: Have you ever kissed anyone with a lip ring?

No, I don’t know how I’d feel about it, I feel like I’d be afraid of pulling it somehow

97: Did you sleep alone this week?

All the time haha

98: Everybody has somebody that makes them happy, do you?

Yes, I do haha

99: Do you believe in love at first sight?

Not particularly, it sounds nice tho

100: Who was the last person that you pinky promise?

I think emme, she likes that kind of stuff

Hope this made you feel better Michael lmao

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tristikovart · 7 years

Text

A Retrospective of Role

Or “It really took 15 years to get from that, to this?”

If you’d like to share in my cringe have a look at my progress as an artist, then grab a beverage and a snack, because this is gonna be a looooooooong post.

So to go back to the beginning, I have always liked to draw; in particular I’ve always liked animals, so it isn’t much of a surprise that some of my earliest “original characters” were based on my team in Pokemon Yellow. However, it was another Game Boy game called Dragon Warrior Monsters which provided what turned out to be a lasting inspiration. It also only allowed for 4 letter names.

- 2002 -

If I recall correctly, I was on vacation at a lake in New Hampshire with CerebralZero, when I drew my first ever pic of Role:

She also apparently had scaly forearms and a distinct beak here too; those didn’t stay, but she did keep the wings for some time.

Given the context of DWM (monster battling), Role didn’t have a lot of background at the time... Though I did have some running gags with my friend Alex who also played the crap out of DWM, I only drew some of our monsters later on in a single rough sketch.

The first continuity I had after Pokemon. [shudder] This shit is really going back in time for me. Note that Role’s outfit makes no fucking sense; but surprisingly, while Sela at the far right looks like some DeviantArt sparkle-bird abomination, she actually is about as ridiculous as the Rain Hawk DWM monster she was based on (I think in-game she actually ended up in part of Role’s lineage because Rain Hawks learn the MEGA MAGIC skill, and thus she would pass it on to Role through monster husbandry.)

- 2003 -

For a while I gave her some kind of SWAT uniform thing. I’m pretty sure I intended her pistol to be the Enforcer from Unreal / UT Classic. She also went blonde for a while.

Using my sick dial-up internet connection at the time I found out that digital coloring was a thing, and I asked my folks to get me Photoshop Elements 1.0 at our local Staples. I also got a scanner, which ushered in an exciting new world of not being aware of the multiply setting, layers, or cleaning up line-art.

However, Role proved pretty good at rocking out in front of crappy jpegs BGs

- 2004 -.

During this time, I went through a bunch of character designs and continuities (itself amusing to look at; perhaps I’ll make a future post for the truly bored.)

All things considered, when I stuck to pens and prismarkers, I don’t think the result was too terrible. Note the blonde again.

IIRC her outfit above is based off of a pinup wallpaper of Jo from Altermeta gen 1. HOW’S THAT FOR DATED?

ARRGG back to the horrendous digital coloring. I actually did much worse coloring a little bit earlier, if you can believe it. Some basic digital art tips would have a gone a long way back then. Anyway, it was about this time that Role transitioned to a new continuity with one of the several iterations of Gyr, who was my go-to character for a few years. Note Role’s design stabilized around this time with the garish fuchsia eyeshadow, t-shirt, and brown “hair”.

BONUS ROUND: Ryhs Rhys (took me a while to get it straight) is also really fucking old! However, she disappeared for a time, while I kept drawing Role. This cast of characters stuck around for a while, and I drew quite a bit of them, including a number of silly comics, frequently involving my friend’s avatar, Raze, inducing mischief by being a self-important douche.

I certainly drew a lot of pinup art of Role; this habit hasn’t really changed… 2004 had a particularly productive stretch due to me going on vacation to Vermont, again at a lake (similar to where I drew her first pic) and having ample free time to occupy.

This trip was also officially commemorated with a 5 page comic about just that.

- 2005 -

I think this pic was actually late 2004, but either way I still think it stands out as pretty cool for the time. Note Role’s “hair” has transitioned to actual hair from its previous feathery styling. Note the lack of wings too. Also, IIRC the only time she was drawn with closed-toe shoes.

Otherwise 2005 is kinda light on dated pics of Role; probably because I had started drawing Ress more often (another good topic for a retrospective) and had also developed Maru and other equine characters.

- 2006 -

Check it out! Some signs of progress at last! The 2006 iteration of this cast focused on these three (and ditched the wings across the board), as well as folded in the other equine characters to some kind of mid-2000s city life continuity. Role’s shirt also gained a big 01, and might have been her old softball jersey or something.

Around this time, CowBunny, a fellow artist on DeviantArt, also drew me some really cool fanart! CB, if you’re out there, I hope you’re doing well!

I also drew the first (and a little slim) Oktoberfest Role picture, replete with god-awful shift-clicked mouse lines. Note the braids here.

- 2007 -

I had started school at this point, and IIRC I drew this sketch during my first semester, while riding the D-line from Brookline Village to Riverside, on my way back to my school’s temporary dorms at Regis College.

- 2008 -

Doodles of Role (and Maru and Ress in the upper middle) done in various notebooks from school. Note during this time she also developed a bit of a cleft beak for some reason. You know, I still don’t know why despite having one in the original drawing, I always drew her without a defined bill since then (until 2017.) Inspiration from depictions of Chocobos, perhaps?

- 2009 -

Beergirl Role is back! And dammit if this doesn’t hold up pretty well (which I should be glad of, given that I purposely designed this pic to have tattooed on my side!)

- 2010 -

At this time I was preoccupied with graduating college, and then involved in my first job, so while I have a nice picture of Ress from this time, I didn’t get to Role until the following year.

- 2011 -

But hey, she looked pretty good, so I’d say the wait was worth it. Note that I finally got rid of that fucking eyeshadow. Like, it finally occurred to me that I could use other colors. Or Kelly might have just told me it looked like shit.

- 2012, 2013 -

Didn’t draw Role much (if at all?) during this time, as I started another job, started collecting firearms, and chiefly: Started the modern period of Avania! (The history of how Avania came to be is yet another retrospective topic I could go into detail on, if there are interested persons out there.)

- 2014 -

Well, 2013-14 sucked because the start-up I worked for had gone belly-up and money was tight, but never the less I brought Role into the “present” with the third beergirl drawing. Her hair is lighter in this version, but she kept the braids even when not in fraulein-mode, and apparently I liked the way she looked with glasses in that old sketch.

Otherwise I spent most of this time making 3D models of most of the Avania characters to play in Unreal Tournament 3. I even made a model of Role, though I didn’t iron out all the rigging issues, and she was rather out of place among all the other characters I had modeled.

- 2015, 2016 -

I started a new job late in 2014 and I’m still there, so things are looking pretty good. However, I had been working on the Avania comic, and any side art had pretty much been exclusively with those characters. Several times I had thought about adding Role into this now all-consuming continuity, but with one of my design choices being limiting the setting to three sentient races, it meant Role as she was wouldn’t fit neatly into the setting, and so I held off on incorporating her.

- 2017 -

However, early this year I decided that it was high time I found a place for my oldest, continuously drawn character in a setting that I have set out to make a fancy, published (at least digitally) comic out of.

I’ve already been posting sketches of her new design, but say goodbye to the old, and hello to the new Role!

Her old design will always be with me (and I mean literally, given the tattoo) but I’m very happy to actually give her something to do now besides get drawn looking pretty. I’ll probably do some finished art of her new design at some point, and maybe even remake her model for my next Avania UT3 release (though it might end up being UT4 at this point--another project somewhere on the distant horizon.)

2018 UPDATE: Role’s latest incarnation now has a fully rendered pinup! This is her design for the Avania comic (launching summer 2018) so be sure to stay tuned if you’re a fan!

Though her previous designs haven’t had much in the way of military themes, I wanted to keep her overall look recognizable. As such color color scheme has remained the same, and I figured her braids would continue to be appropriate in the new context. As she no longer has a lion’s tail, I decided to braid that as well so as to keep the tufted and ribboned look. One other thing that has evolved is her personality; though she past wasn’t ever particularly defined, Role always seemed fairly happy, friendly, hard-working, and a little flirty. In light of her new history growing up in dire times and serving during the final days of her country, her old personality has matured to one of responsibility and self-sacrifice, but has not been entirely overwhelmed!

I’ve really enjoyed Role’s evolution over the years, and I’ve especially enjoyed her recent iterations and the depth that I’ve finally got around to developing for her character and backstory.

If you actually read this incredibly long-winded exploration of my artwork, then I hope you enjoyed it too! If that’s the case, let me know if you’re interested in seeing more posts like this exploring some other long-running characters, or all the early concepts that went into making Avania.

It has been a pleasure sharing my drawings with the internet at large, and I look forward to continuing the habit; cheers!

#artists on tumblr #retrospective #anthro #thicc #OC #tristikovart #role

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