#based on a photo i've long since lost track of

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 1 - The Introduction

Summary: Captain Price has been fighting the requests to add an omega to his team until those requests become commands. You find yourself traveling half a world away to join a pack of highly trained soldiers to balance out their dynamic. Not all of them are quite so happy about your arrival, but you're a good omega who does as you're told.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, brief moments of panic on the reader's side, scenting, military inaccuracies, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Author's Note: I couldn't help it and I've found myself falling into the Call of Duty brainrot once again so here I am to bless you with some poly 141 a/b/o goodness. It's just part 1, I promise things will get better as the story goes along.

MASTERLIST | Next ->

“I don’t like this.” 

“Believe me, John, I know. But the higher ups are putting a lot of pressure on us with this initiative and I’ve pushed back as much as I can. They’re convinced it will be good for morale and team dynamics.” 

He wants to protest, but he’s been protesting this idea for three months. “What more can you tell me about her?” 

“Not much that isn’t already in her file.” Her tone is not lost on him. She can, but that’s not a conversation to be held over the phone. “She’s quiet and polite, a bit jumpy but she relaxes once she gets to know you. Remember, I picked her out myself.” 

That doesn’t make him feel any better.

He flips through the file again after he hangs up with Laswell. He almost has it memorized by now, having looked through time and time again since the letter was dropped on his desk three months ago. 

He stares at the photo, the headshot taken by the institute in her file. She’s cute, as most omegas are. American, but she had grown up on military bases. At least this world wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to her. He grimaces as he looks over her DOB below the photo. She’s young, younger than he would have liked, but at least she was old enough to drink. 

He sighs through his nose as he flips through her records. She’s been in the institute for nearly ten years, likely sent as soon as she presented. He flips through page after page of test results, notes from her instructors, personality and temperament analysis, essays and essays worth of information written on her and also by her. He didn’t care so much about what her instructors thought, he was more interested in her. 

“Christ.” He breathes as he pauses on the page with her statistics, rubbing his eyes. The file has everything in it, down to heat tracking and her early signs it was starting. 

As if he doesn’t have enough to worry about, now he’s going to have an omega under his care. 

He hasn’t considered taking an omega in well over a decade. Back when he had been young and reckless, he had once considered starting his own pack, but then his career in the military began to take off and he let that dream go. It became too dangerous, and he had seen many times what happened to omegas who were left behind during deployments for too long. 

His team didn’t need an omega. He had briefly considered it in the beginning as they adjusted to the new dynamics, but he knew it was too dangerous and their schedules were far too unpredictable for the sort of stability omegas needed. He had fought time and time again against the push to add an omega to the team. They had settled into their roles easily, and operated perfectly fine with the missing dynamic. 

Then the Omega Initiative was born and he found himself with no grounds to refuse anymore. Task Force 141 was getting an omega whether they wanted one or not. 

He can’t help the tickle in the back of his mind that something else might be going on. He flips back to the first page, staring at the omega’s photo. They’d be here in a week. She’d be flying with Laswell to London where she’d be given a few days to adjust before they’d fly in here and she’ll be left with her new pack. 

Price closes the file, leaning back in his chair. He has a lot to do in the next week. 

You stare down at the files laid out on the table. Four of them, hardly more than a single page each, most of which was blacked out. They’re all older than you, their birth years at least visible to you. Most of the things on the file you don’t understand, and you weren't even sure how tall they were since you can’t convert meters to feet in your head. 

You’re tired and on edge, nervous about tomorrow when you'd meet your new pack. You sit back in your seat, letting out a long breath. 

“I know.” Station Chief Laswell, Kate as you had been told to call her, takes the seat across from you. “You’re going to have to get used to hearing the word classified. What they tell you about themselves is, of course, up to them, but the things they do, the places they go, even with your security clearance as high as it is, that will all still be-” 

“Classified?” You finish for her. 

Kate smiles. “Exactly. It’s mostly for your safety. The less you know...” 

The less there is to make you a target. 

You’d been given that speech before you left D.C. You’d been given a lot of briefings, as Kate had called them, since you had been pulled into the director’s office at The Institute and told to pack your bag. You remembered Kate and the interview you had done a few days prior. It hadn’t been any different than the other interviews you’d done before, except that you were chosen this time. 

What had come after was three months of intense briefings and training, for what, you hadn’t really known at the time. They had told you little, at least until last week when Kate pulled you into her office and told you what was happening and why it was happening and where you were going. 

“You don’t have anything to worry about, though.” Kate continues, something you’ve been told over and over again during your briefings. “They’re all good men. John and I know each other well. I wouldn’t have picked you if I didn’t think you could handle them.” 

You continue to stare at the files. Two alphas, two betas. It wasn’t an unusual pack, evenly balanced, except for the missing omega. If the situation were different they may have elected to have two omegas to keep the even balance. This wasn’t a normal situation, though. This was a military pack, special forces at that. It wasn’t unusual for packs to form on bases, especially those stationed together for long periods of time. Alphas and betas united together with one purpose, one collective goal. 

That was why so many alphas were drawn to the military. 

That, and the excuse for violence. 

Omegas weren’t allowed to enlist, omegas weren’t allowed to hold many jobs at all. It was usually only in special circumstances, and even then, they were more likely to be assigned into a pack than be allowed to work and care for themselves. In a lot of ways you were lucky. You wouldn’t have to fight to find a pack, fight to find a match, fight for one of the few decent alphas left in the world. Your road had been chosen for you as soon as you presented. 

In a lot of ways, though, things were worse for you. 

“How do you feel?” Kate asks, looking you over. You’ve grown to like the beta Station Chief in the weeks you’ve spent together. 

“Tired.” You run a hand across your face. 

“The time difference will do that to you.” Kate says, giving you a sympathetic look. “Not to mention everything else.” Kate stands, stacking the files and pushing them to the center of the table. “I have a couple more errands to run, so get some rest. I’ll pick us up some dinner on the way back.” 

You look nervous. 

He can’t blame you. He’d felt a bit of a nervous twist to his stomach this morning as he’d finished ensuring everything was in place. He doesn’t often get nervous anymore, years and years of experience giving him the ability to expect anything and react accordingly. 

This is different, though. This isn’t a soldier he’s greeting, this is an omega. 

His omega. 

As Pack Alpha he had more of a claim to you than anyone else. It was his mark you’d wear, his scent that everyone would notice first. It was his duty to protect you, to ensure you have everything you need. You’re not another member of his team, you’re not even a soldier. You’re just a poor civilian that’s been thrust into this world of danger and secrecy. 

“Captain Price.” Laswell greets him, shaking his hand. 

He greets her back, but he can’t help his gaze as it flickers to the omega. You’re small, as expected of an omega. Your sweatshirt hides most of your curves, but your jeans hug your full thighs. Most omegas are small and soft, designed to be held and healthy enough to bear children when cared for correctly. 

He doesn’t even want to think about that. 

Laswell introduces you, your feet shuffling a bit as you step forward toward him. Coming from an institute, you likely hadn’t had much contact with alphas before now. You try to stand taller, look braver as you stand before him, but he can smell the tangy edge of anxiety surrounding your scent. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” You say, shaking his hand. It’s small and warm in his, your skin soft and slightly clammy. 

“The pleasure is mine.” He says, releasing your hand. 

You let it drop to your side, pulling your sleeve down over your fingers. You shift on your feet, your body language betraying your nervousness. Hunched shoulders, fingers tugging your sleeves over your hands, shifting your weight foot to foot as if you might take off running at a moment’s notice. Your eyes dart across the airfield taking in the movement around them. You’re on edge, alert, and likely a little overwhelmed. 

“I’ll show you around and let you get settled.” He says, his eyes shifting to Laswell. “You and I have some things to discuss.” 

You follow behind him with Laswell as he leads you towards the building that served as the 141’s home base. He points out different places you might find yourself visiting. The gym, the rec area, the mess hall, and finally their barracks. He leads you down the hallway where their rooms were located, pointing out each door before he gets to yours, sandwiched between his own and Gaz’s, with Soap and Ghost on the other side. 

He opens the door, letting you enter. He stays in the doorway, letting you explore the small space. Your bags had been brought in, the faint hint of the beta Corporal that had brought them in still lingering in the air. There’s four shirts folded neatly on the desk, one from each of them that they’d slept in for the last couple days to give you a chance to get used to their scents. 

“The lads are still running a simulation, but they’ll be done within the hour.” He says, drawing your gaze from the bed. “We’ll let you get settled in and I’ll come get you when they’re ready.” 

“Thank you, sir.” You say.

Laswell steps in as he steps away for a moment, letting the two of you say your goodbyes. You’d likely see Laswell again, and soon, but he knows after three months you’ll have bonded with her just a bit. 

Price leads Laswell to his office after she leaves your room, his ears picking up the sound of the lock clicking into place as they walk away. He’d left it on for a reason, wanting to give you the ability to feel safe and secure as you adjusted, even though you had nothing to worry about. 

“So.” Price says as he sits behind his desk, reclining back in his seat. “What can you really tell me about her?” 

Laswell gives him a knowing look. “The CIA has had their eyes on her for years now. The Omega Initiative as it is now, isn’t how it started. They were going to train omegas as agents, and she was one of the first names on that list. They had FIOT put a hold on her file once she came of age.” 

Federal Institute of Omega Training. The name was stamped on the front of your file. It was the highest rated institute in America, the place where most omegas born to politicians, government workers, and some military went. 

“They had agents go in and pretend to be interested parties just to make it seem like there was interest in her.” Laswell continues. “But, you know omegas aren’t cut out for this kind of work, so they changed the Initiative. She was still at the top of the list, but there were some...hesitations as to where to place her.” 

“What sort of hesitations?” He asks. 

“You saw those scores, John. She’s a good omega. Those purebred instincts are strong, and that makes her an easy target.” 

Most omegas born from an alpha/omega pairing were good at listening to their instincts. That was why they carried such a high standing, even among omegas. But, being so closely intune with their instincts made them more sensitive, more vulnerable. They were more likely to give in to an alpha, if the alpha knew how to play them right. 

Laswell pulls a file from her bag, sliding it across his desk to him. “She’d get walked all over in a larger pack, and the last thing she needs is to get hurt by an overbearing alpha.” There’s something hidden in Laswell’s words, his mind filing that away for later. “I need someone I can trust with her. She’s smart, learns fast. She needs a challenge, but also someone that won’t take advantage of her.” 

“It sounds like you’ve grown rather fond of her.” He says, flipping open the first page of the file. It’s the CIA’s data on her, everything they’d done in the last three months to prepare her for her life as a Special Operations pack omega. 

“Like I said, I’m the one that picked her for your team.” Laswell leans forward against his desk. “She knows what she’s in for. She was well prepared for this kind of life. She’ll let you mark her, no questions asked because that’s what she’s been told to do. She’s obedient, John, almost to a fault.”

“That could be dangerous.” Price says. 

“Yes, it could.” Laswell says. “I’m leaving her in your capable hands. She has my number, and so do you.” 

Price walks her back to the airfield, his head reeling a bit as he replays their conversation over and over. The hidden messages in Laswell’s words aren’t lost on him, and his gut feeling that something else was going on had been correct.

“Take care of her, John.” Laswell says. “I’m putting a lot of trust in you.” 

He hasn’t failed her yet. 

Your body is tingling. You’re not sure if it’s nerves or something else. You haven’t been around an alpha since the day of your presentation, when you had been pulled from your home and taken to the institute. You had nearly wanted to keel over when you came face to face with Captain Price. Your alpha. He’s a commanding presence, the tickling at the back of your neck still not quite gone even though the door is shut and locked. 

The bed is comfortable, not any worse than what you slept on in the institute. There’s extra pillows and blankets stacked at the end, likely for your nest when you finally settled enough to make one. The door to the private bathroom is cracked open, facing the end of the bed. There’s four shirts on the desk next under the window next to the bathroom door, and your bags are sitting in front of the dresser and closet situated on the opposite wall from the bed.

You push yourself to stand, ignoring the way your legs wobble as you stare down at the four shirts on the desk. They’re all olive green, folded neatly in the exact same way. You wouldn’t have known any different, except for the scents gently wafting from them, and the names on the tags. 

Price. You pick up the one that will be the most familiar, bringing it to your nose. Tobacco smoke, aftershave, something sharp like whiskey. All things you had scented on him in your short time together. Underneath you catch a whiff of his natural scent. Something woody, fresh. A tingle crawls up your spine, prickling in the back of your neck again. You drop the shirt on the desk, taking a step back to breathe in the unscented air for a moment. 

You’re breathing heavily as you go for the shirt next to Price’s. Garrick. You press the shirt against your nose, inhaling. Aftershave, different from Price’s. Some kind of lotion. Coconut oil maybe? You can’t pick up more than the base scent of beta, the soothing almondy scent. 

You take another deep inhale of it, letting the beta scent ease you before you let it drop to the desk beside Price’s. You grab the one next to it, looking at the tag. MacTavish. You lift it to your face, scenting another aftershave. There’s something citrusy mixed in as well, slightly watered down compared to the scent of the aftershave. Again, you can’t pick up more than the scent of beta, letting it ease the tickling on the back of your neck again before you let it drop back on the desk. 

One more to go. 

You pick up the last shirt. Ghost. The faceless one. You bring the shirt to your nose, wincing slightly at the sharp tang of gunpowder and metal, smoke and a lingering aftershave. You try to smell deeper, but your nose burns with scent blocker spray. You let out a huff, dropping it back onto the desk. 

This Ghost was dedicated to his anonymity. 

He’s going to be a problem. 

You sink back onto the bed, eyeing the shirts. Your senses have heightened, picking up the scents wafting off of them, mixing in the air. You pick up the sound of boots approaching, three pairs of feet making their way down the hall. You can hear them talking and laughing as they approach. There’s a pause outside your door and you hold your breath, sitting as still as possible. 

Of course they can smell you. You had sprayed yourself down with scent blockers before you left the hotel, but it had likely worn off by now. Even with the blocker, the scent of unmated omega wasn’t hidden easily. The entire base had probably caught a whiff of your scent by now. Caramel, vanilla, strawberries with the undertone of pure omega that made alphas go insane. 

“Coming, Si?” 

Your lungs burn as you hold your breath, and for a moment you’re afraid your heartbeat might be audible from how hard it’s pounding. Steps recede from your door and you don’t breathe until they’ve disappeared. 

You decide to unpack to keep your mind busy as you wait. You don’t have much, mostly clothes from the institute and toiletries. You don’t even have a photo of your family, that part of your life behind you. You put your clothes away, venturing into the small bathroom to put away your toiletries. There’s towels already inside, along with a few things like shampoo and soap. They’re all scentless, like the things you had brought from the institute. 

Nothing that could dampen your natural scent. 

You almost don’t hear the knock on the door, lost in your own thoughts. You take a steadying breath, hand hesitating over the lock. What if it wasn’t Price? What if it wasn’t anyone from your new pack? 

“Just me.” Price’s voice comes through the door. 

Of course he would notice your hesitation. He’s a trained soldier, he’s always going to be aware of his surroundings. You unlock the door, opening it slowly. 

Price greets you with a small smile, your nose picking up the scent of his aftershave and the lingering scent of tobacco smoke now that you’re attune to it. “They’re ready, if you are.” He says. 

You nod. “Yeah, I guess.” It wasn’t like you had much of a choice to say no. 

You slip out the door, closing it behind you. You’d ditched your sweatshirt, wearing a scoop-necked shirt to give them easy access for the scenting. Price leads you down the hallway, back towards his office. You’re not quite sure what to expect, the nervous twisting in your stomach coming back. 

“I thought we’d do it in a meeting room.” Price says, likely picking up on the change in your scent. “Somewhere neutral.” 

It’s smart, it’ll keep you from getting too overwhelmed by other scents or sounds. The last thing you need to do is panic and send them all into a spiral. Talk about a first impression. 

Price pauses outside a door, looking down at you. His gaze is kind, almost sympathetic as you take a deep breath. “Ready?” 

Not really, but you wouldn’t dare say that. You have to do this, and the sooner you got the awkward part over with, the easier things will get. You nod, hands tugging nervously at the bottom of your shirt. “Yes, sir.” 

Price opens the door, stepping in first. You’re glad for the few moments you’re hidden behind him as the scents in the room slam into you. Alpha and two betas, scents you recognize from their shirts. They stand as Price enters, and for a moment you want to stay hidden behind the alpha but you know you have to be brave. You were made for this. The words drilled into your brain over and over again at the institute flash through your brain. You have one job in life and this is it. 

You can hold power over them. 

The words from the book your bunkmate had smuggled in flash through your mind. “The Powerful Omega”, it had been titled. Authored by a progressive omega, it talked all about how powerful omegas could be, even those forced into traditional roles. You can get them all wrapped around your finger if you wanted to. 

You steady your nerves, clenching your hands into fists at your sides and step out from behind Price. Your skin prickles as three sets of eyes are set on you. Price is speaking but you’re not really listening as you take them in. You recognize the two betas from their files.

Gaz, you pick up Price doing introductions, has kind eyes. He’s tall for a beta, almost the same height as Price. He waves to you, offering you a small smile. 

Soap is the shortest of the four, more what you would expect from a beta. “Good to meet ya, lass.” He greets you, giving you a charming smile. He’s going to push your boundaries, you can tell. 

You’re beginning to see the dynamics already. 

“And Ghost.” Price says, your eyes finally moving to the place you’ve been avoiding since you walked in. 

All hulking muscle, Ghost seems to take up the entire room. Your heart flutters nervously as you meet his dark gaze, his face hidden by a balaclava with a skull painted on the front. His presence is oppressive, tickling the back of your neck. You’re not sure if you want to run or submit to him, every inch of him screaming alpha. 

Price’s hand on your back nearly makes you jump, your gaze finally drawing away from Ghost and back to him. “Come on, take a seat. Tell us about yourself.”  

Price sits at the head of the table, Ghost, Soap and Gaz to his left. You take the seat on the right, staring at the other three members of your pack. You jump into your spiel, things that they already knew if they’d read your file. There’s not much else to tell, since everything about you was in that file. That was its purpose, to make you look as appealing as possible to potential alphas and packs. 

“What about your family?” Soap asks, the sharp scent of your nervous energy spiking for a moment. “Do you still talk to them?” 

You shake your head. “Not for a few years. Institutes don’t really encourage keeping ties with previous packs, but I know there were a few omegas that did. It was hard to keep track of where my family was.” 

“Your father was a Marine, correct?” Price, even though they already know the answer. 

You nod. “Yes, sir.” 

“You lived on base?” He asks. 

You nod again. “Yes, sir. We moved a lot, but we lived in pack housing on every base. We were a family pack, and I was number four of eight by the time I presented.” 

“When did you get sent to the Institute?” He asks, almost regretting answering it. 

It’s a sore subject, he can tell by the change in your face and the slight souring of your scent. “The day after I presented.” You say. 

The tension in the room is palpable, Soap and Gaz’s eyes widening in shock as Ghost's shoulders tense just slightly. Price stares at you with a sympathetic look in his eyes. He knew it was likely shortly after, but that soon? Most would wait until the presentation had finished at least, and usually there was some downtime when it came to getting into an institute as well. 

“My father was a traditionalist alpha.” You say, something they also knew by your status. It was printed all over your file, squeezed in every place it could be as a reminder of your worth to whomever was reading it. “It was because we were already on base that they got to me so fast.” You explain. “It was my dad’s status in the Marines that got me into FIOT.” 

“What was it like, in the institute?” Gaz asks, wanting to change the subject a bit, if only to ease the sourness in your scent. 

You huff out a laugh, the corner of your lips lifting in a smile. “Not unlike the military, I think. We had strict schedules we stuck to every day. Everything was dictated for us, what we wore, what we learned, what we did with our free time and how often we got it. Even what we ate was chosen for us. We always had to be ready to be tested at any time, and we were always being observed.” 

“Your test scores were high.” Price remarks. 

You shrug. “I’m a perfect omega, or so my instructors always said. It comes easily to me. I don’t really have to think much about it.” 

“Did you really kneel for two hours straight?” Gaz asks. 

You huff out a laugh. “Yeah. There was one day...it was a couple years ago. I don’t know what caused it but there was something in the air. We were all on edge and worked up. The director got tired of us and made us all kneel in the mess hall during our two hour afternoon break. No cushions, no pillows. Just all forty of us, kneeling on the marble floor for two hours. Not everyone could do it. Quite a few got too fidgety, couldn’t handle the pain. Three even passed out.” 

“How did you manage it?” Gaz asks. 

Price wasn’t a fan of using instinctual habits as punishment. It left a bad taste in his mouth, and he can only imagine what else you could say they forced you to do with such nonchalance. 

“To be honest, I don’t remember most of it. I just let my mind go somewhere else and before I knew it the time was up.” You shrug.

“We won’t make you kneel for two hours.” Price says. “And definitely not without a pillow.” 

You smile softly. “Thank you, sir.” 

Price watches you, the way your eyes dart around the room again, the sour edge of your scent gone, but the tang of anxiety remains. You’ve relaxed some, though, your shoulders are not quite so tense and you’ve stopped picking at your nails. 

Ghost has remained silent the entire time you’ve spoken, eyes glued on you. You’ve tried not to look at him, finding your words get stuck in your throat whenever you meet his gaze. 

He’s going to be a problem. 

“There’s some rules we need to go over before anything else.” Price says. “You have freedom to roam this building as you please, but one of us will escort you if you need to go elsewhere at least until you’ve been marked. There’s other alphas on this base and I don’t want them getting any ideas.” 

You knew well enough omegas frequented the barracks on bases often. You don’t want to be mistaken as one. Even with their scents on you, you know that won’t stop some. You’re not even sure a mark will stop them either. 

“I want full transparency. If something happens you come to me, or you call Kate if we’re gone. If you need anything too, the same order stands.” You’re beginning to detect the edge to his voice, The Captain slipping through his more casual demeanor. “We have some downtime to adjust for now, but sometimes we may leave for weeks at a time. It will be rough, I won’t lie to you, but Kate pulled some strings and there’s an Omega Specialist that’s been brought in for you. You’ll meet her later, I’m sure she wants to do a full workup.” 

You’ve met many Omega Specialists in your time. The beta medical professionals that go through specialized training so they can assist and treat omegas better than regular doctors and medics. Most of them go through a residency at Institutes, studying and practicing on young omegas. The thought of having at least someone who might understand you on a deeper level is comforting. 

“I’m starving, let’s get the scenting over with.” Soap nearly whines, rubbing his stomach. 

His words strike a chord of nervous energy in you again. You had been prepared many times for the scenting. You’d seen instructional videos and done mock practices with your fellow omegas. Yet you feel like it’s not going to be enough. These were real alphas and betas, your pack. What if you don’t like the way they smell? 

What if they don’t like the way you smell? 

“If you’re alright with it?” Price says, looking at you. 

You’re taken aback by the offer for consent. You weren’t expecting it, as this was something you have to do. What would happen if you said no? Would they respect your boundaries? The fact you had been asked at all is shocking to you. You won’t say no, because you’ll have to do it eventually, and at least this way you’ll be walking around smelling like them. If nothing else, it might make this transition a bit easier. 

“Yeah.” You nod, swallowing down your nerves. “I’m okay with it.” 

All five of you stand from the table, your stomach churning with nervous energy. You try to clear your head, try to calm yourself so you don’t stink them out with your anxiety. You need your scent to be clear, to be as tantalizing as possible. 

“Don’t look so worried, lass.” Soap says as they gather around you. “We won’t bite.” He winks at you playfully. 

Your cheeks warm as Price steps up to you. He is right, that would come later. Likely during your first heat when Price would give you his mark and claim you as his. It wasn’t unusual for packs with multiple alphas to let more than one claim an omega, but judging from what you’ve seen of Ghost, you’re not sure that’s going to happen. 

He had a right to claim you too, but from the look of it, he was the least excited about your joining their pack. 

You tense as Price’s hands settle on your waist, lifting you up so you’re seated on the edge of the table, putting you closer to being eye-to-eye with them. They’re all so big, the natural consequence of genetics and their jobs. 

“Ready?” 

You turn to look up at Price, close enough you can see the freckles on his nose and the grey in his blue eyes. You nod, pressing your hands into the table as you bare your neck for him. Your heart is fluttering in your chest as he leans in closer, pressing his face against your neck. His beard tickles your skin as he rubs his face against your scent gland, warm breaths fanning against your skin. 

He pulls away just slightly, baring his own neck to you. You press forward, gripping the edge of the table as you press your face against his throat. You catch the scents you had picked up on his shirt in your room, the surface level scents that were environmental. You close your eyes, inhaling deeper. Woody. Pine? Spruce? It reminds you of a candle your mother used to burn. There’s another scent, the one that lingers. Petrichor, you think, rubbing your face against his scent gland. 

His hand on your side pulls you back from your scent-induced haze, and you force yourself back from him. You take deep breaths of the sterile air in the meeting room, picking up his scent more clearly now as it mixes with the others. 

“Good girl.” He says, squeezing your side gently. Something flutters in your stomach at his praise, some deep primal part of your brain preening at the thought of making your alpha proud. “Ghost.” He says, stepping back from you. 

You’re snapped back into reality as the hulking alpha steps up towards you, moving almost silently. You try to keep yourself calm as he stalks towards you, his sharp gaze burning into yours. 

He’s testing you. 

You won’t satisfy him, holding his gaze as he reaches you, his thighs pressing against your knees. One hand comes to rest next to your hip on the table, his body leaning in towards you. You’re enveloped by the black fabric of his sweatshirt as his other hand reaches up to tug his balaclava up. Stubble tickles your skin as he presses his face against your throat, breathing in deeply. He lets out a quiet sound as he scents you, almost akin to a growl. 

He shifts his weight, pressing his uncovered scent gland against your face. You close your eyes, inhaling deeply. Gunpowder and metal stings your nose again, along with the scent of his body wash. You press deeper into his throat, seeking out his natural scent. Something deep and musky washes over you, like suede or leather. There’s something fresh in there too, almost like eucalyptus. You press your face closer, inhaling it deeply. Your head spins, and you’re sure your knees would have given out if you hadn’t been sitting. 

Something rumbles in Ghost's chest as you scent him in a daze. While all alphas’ scents carried a natural musk, Ghosts seems to shoot directly to some deep part of your brain even Price’s scent hadn’t reached. 

You let out a quiet whine as he’s pulled from you, his mask back in place by the time you pry your eyes open. Ghost is leaning back against the wall, eyes back to their icy stare as he watches you. Your head is still spinning as someone steps up next to you, taking Ghost’s place. 

“How ya doing?” Gaz asks, eyes assessing you. “Hanging in there?” 

You nod, taking a couple deep breaths to try and clear your head. 

“You’re halfway there.” He says, leaning in closer. “Got through the hard part.” 

His breath fans your neck as he leans in, the familiar scent of beta flooding your senses. He was likely doing it on purpose, trying to calm you after the intensity of being scented by two alphas. You breathe in the almondy scent, relaxing into him as he scents you. Your hands raise, gripping his shoulders as he presses his neck close to your face. You seek out the source of the calming scent, pressing your nose into his scent gland. 

You’re drawn from the room and to the time your family took a trip to the beach when your father was stationed in North Carolina. Salty sea air, briney and clean, and something else, something soft. Like the clean linen scented spray your mother used on the laundry. You’re clinging to him, his arms around you as you relax into his scent. The tingling energy that had begun to build up at the proximity to the alphas fades as you melt into the calming energy of the beta in front of you. 

“Easy.” He says, his hand on the back of your head as he pulls you away from him. You take a deep breath, trying to clear your head. “Still with us?” He asks, meeting your gaze. 

“Yeah.” You say, sounding breathless. You knew scenting could be intense, but you hadn’t expected it to feel quite like this. 

“Almost done, hen.” Soap says, taking Gaz’s place in front of you. “Lucky there’s only four of us.”

He’s right, you think as you bear your throat for him. You’re not sure you could have handled it had there been more of them. You already feel like you’re floating, enveloped in so many scents you’re not sure what to do. That tingling has begun at the back of your neck as Soap scents you, your eyes meeting Ghost’s. The look in them has changed, his body poised like he’s ready to strike at a moment’s notice. 

Soap pulls back, blocking your view of him as he bears his throat to you. You press your face into his neck, pushing past the scents you knew, and that beta scent, looking for him. 

You inhale deeply, the scent of warm spices invading your nose. It smells like the holidays, cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger enveloping you. You can almost taste the apple pie, see the gingerbread houses. You cling to his shirt, holding him against you as you rub your face against his throat. 

You’re trembling just slightly as Soap withdraws from your hold. It’s subtle, but to them, highly aware soldiers, it’s likely clear as day. Your skin is buzzing, like the fluorescent lights above you. You can hear it now, the buzz of electricity. Your pupils are blown, the room suddenly clearer and sharper. 

“There she is.” The low grumble of Price’s voice begins to pull you from your heightened state, your eyes turning to him as his hand cups your cheek. 

You press into the rough palm of his hand, eyes picking up the grey in his beard and hair as he stands in front of you. He’s older than you, they’re all older than you. Older than you, bigger than you, stronger than you. A small tickle of fear begins to itch in the back of your mind, drawing you from your daze. 

You’re vulnerable, entirely vulnerable and incapable of defending yourself against them. Forgetting second genders, they’re all much stronger than you, not to mention trained fighters. You’d be fucked if they decided to try anything, if they wanted to do anything. You’d be entirely helpless against them. 

They could if they wanted to. 

It would be well within their rights. Even though you had just met, even though you bore no claiming mark, there was nothing stopping them. You couldn’t stop them, and no one would help you. 

“You hungry, pup?” 

Price’s voice cuts through your fearful daze. There’s a slight furrow to his brow, likely picking up the sharp edge seeping into your scent. Omega fear and distress was the one defense nature gave to your kind, aside from the omega itself. It’s a putrid scent meant to ward off alphas and betas. You’ve heard it described as smelling like sulfur, burning coals, gasoline, melting plastic, and sometimes even the ozonic scent that accompanied alphas in a true rage. It was a warning, but it doesn't always work. 

Pup. Price called you Pup. 

You haven’t been called “pup” since you were a pup. It’s a commonly used nickname for any status. You remember your father calling your older brothers pup, even after they presented. It could be derogatory, but it’s more commonly used affectionately. He’s trying to ease your discomfort, the fear welling up inside you. 

The door is open, the fresh air of the hallway watering down the heavy mix of scents that had become trapped in the room. Soap and Gaz have already stepped out, Ghosts hulking figure blocking the doorway for a moment as he follows them, leaving you alone with Price for a moment. 

“Alright?” Price asks as your gaze meets his again. 

You nod, still leaning into his touch. “Yeah, ‘s a lot.” 

“I know.” His thumb strokes your cheek, a knowing glint in his eyes. He leans in closer, lowering his voice. “Don’t tell him I told you this, but Soap nearly passed out when we scented him.” 

You cover your mouth to stifle your giggle. It wasn’t unusual for scentings to become so intense that the receiver passes out. You’re sure if there had been more than four in your new pack you would have passed out. 

“Come on.” He says, wrapping an arm around your waist to lift you off the table and onto unsteady legs. He doesn’t even grunt with the effort, moving you easily. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, but it’s not entirely one of fear. 

His hand is warm on your back as he leads you out of the room, the clean air in the hallway clearing your head further. Most bases have circulating air systems, constantly filtering out scents to keep things as neutral as possible. They’re less effective in smaller areas though, especially after scents were intentionally projected. Most military members wore scent blockers, at least while performing their duties. You remember your father coming home at the end of the day with the dull burn of scent blocker still on his clothes. 

Your head is still spinning a bit as you follow them out of the barracks and towards the mess hall. They seem to almost walk in a formation, though you suppose with years of having it drilled in your head, it’s almost second nature. You’re sandwiched between Soap and Gaz in the middle, Price in front and Ghost bringing up the rear. 

The other personnel on the base give your group a wide berth, and even in the mess you can feel the glances, but none of the stares linger. Price guides you next to him as you get your food, adding things to your tray for you. That tickling feeling starts again at the back of your neck as he makes your plate, your omega preening happily at the knowledge of what he’s doing. 

He’s proving his ability as a provider. 

In more primordial times he might have gone out and hunted for food to bring back to you to prove his capabilities. Even in more modern times, he might have hunted as some alphas still did, or he would have gone to the store to keep the fridge stocked full of food. Alphas are good at adapting to their surroundings and situations. He’s proving his capabilities in the way he can. 

You’re also silently grateful to not have to think too hard about the choices in front of you. Even after a week, British food is still a bit unfamiliar to you. It’s not entirely indiscernible, though, and you’re sure you could pick out things that sounded good if you had to. At this moment, though, with your head still reeling a bit and the unsettling energy of a new place filled with unknown alphas and betas, you’re happy to let Price do it for you. 

He carries your tray and his to a table, sitting you next to him. Gaz takes your other side, Soap and Ghost sitting across from you. The choices in their seating arrangement don’t feel quite so random to you, and you quickly realize the arrangement is similar to the room setup in the barracks. 

A beta for each alpha, you think. Gaz and Price. Soap and Ghost. 

Then there’s you, stuck somewhere in the middle of them. Somehow you’ll fit between them, squeezing into their perfect dynamic. Omegas are supposed to help balance packs, but as you sit with the four members of your new pack, you can’t help but feel like you’re only going to make things more difficult. 

I'm willing to put together a taglist if people are interested...

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #141 x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #cod x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #a/b/o

[alexhandersenblog]

Hi! I found this blog and thought it was one of the most well put together AHA fanpage out there! The topic is all AHA and straight to the point haha

Actually, I only really discovered Alex last year. Through Vikings of course. I was keen on the show when it started years ago but lost interest when Ragnar died and stopped watching for a long while... I picked it up again and decided to give Ragnar's sons a chance! Then eventually developed a crush on Ivar's actor (probably because it seemed he had more screentime).

Now, I'm not THAT familiar with what's happening/happened with his life. Any other work I've seen of him is the Bombardment and that's only because it was available on Netflix; but he seems to have a bigger following in DK, obviously, so maybe danish fans are more on track with his work and the acting circle.

One thing I noticed on this page, is the seeming disapproval of his gf? I find that curious. Is she not a famous actor in DK as well? What other work has she done? Is she well liked by the audience or has a following? Any controversies?

It seems like everybody has a sixth sense about this person and is not really letting out what they know. I'm picking up clues that maybe people are implying she's sort of a user?

Am I just being nosy? Is this a "no shit sherlock" moment?! 🫥

Hi! Thank you so much 🥰

It's hard to figure out what his "famous" status is in DK. He is quite famous, but not as loved/famous as Mads Mikkelsen. He has a few new projects running/coming out, but all Danish: Kald Mig Far and Nattevagten, are his most recent projects.

In addition, he has also done some small things in Danish productions. He appears in Danish television programs and podcasts, but nothing big.... And nothing international. So you haven't missed much.

To me it’s not entirely clear what his future plans are. There was talk of an international project, but it was quietly cancelled. So I think he will stay mainly working in Denmark, but never say never.

As for the girlfriend ... she is not really "known”. I would say more of a starter. Did mostly musicals and did play in 1 well-known thing (if I'm not mistaken). So if we have to put a term on it I would say Mads Mikkelsen = A-list celeb, Alex = B-list celeb, gf = C-list. (I'm basing this on things I've seen etc. so I could certainly be wrong).

It seems that since she is with Alex she is doing everything to create a "new" persona (deleting a lot of pictures and trying to be more influencer like etc.) She is surfing his famous wave and reaping the benefits. That's what (I think) bothers a lot of people. Also several things she did on instagram were not really well received. To name a few things: Even before it was known they were a couple she was already posting 'hints'. While Alex always insisted very hard on his privacy.

Furthermore, she also posted a so called 'drunk' selfie with Alex only to delete it afterwards, she also posted a series of photos of Alex with the caption 'you snooze you lose', then also deleted it etc. These are just a few examples. These 'little' things just come across as very wrong...

And then she also felt it was necessary to show off her creativity. All good. But she posts a picture that she was painting. The painting however was an exact copy of another artist. Someone responded that she should give credit to the original artist. She responded that it was pure coincidence. But if you looked (at her then) public Pinterest she had saved the exact painting. That person said that. Suddenly her Pinterest was private and all comments deleted… A bit of a stupid response for someone who also works in the creative sector, if you ask me.

This is all just off the top of my head, there are probably some other things too. But just to give some examples.

A disclaimer: All this is obviously based on things that we see online. I don't know her, but it's mainly the vibe that's not really okay for me.

Other than that, no hate. I don't encourage hate either. As long as they are happy together, totally fine. But what's also ‘weird’ is that Alex is suddenly falling for things he never wanted. He often does the opposite of what he says, and that's just not okay either. Then again, that's entirely his part of course!

Sorry for my extensive answer, but hopefully it clarifies some things ☺️

By the way if you like to read up even more and know more about all this I recommend @hoghtastic (you may already know it) but highly recommend to stay up to date! 😄

#ask #anon ask

[shutupbrain]

sus, last 6-12 months

Suddenly opened a new, separate individual bank account which he said he made to better track his finances. All his commission checks go in there. I was very caught off guard only because we've had joint finances for over 9 years and have made all our major financial decisions together. He says he got it to better track his finances.

Makes "he" not "we" statements more often now I think about it.

He goes from buying himself a bunch of new gym equipment for our garage (which he used daily for some time) to saying he needs to workout at a gym every single workday instead. His reason being that he doesn't have what he needs at his home gym.

Bought and began wearing name brand cologne (has never worn cologne in our 11 years prior), new watch, investing much more effort into appearance. Explanation could be that he is just trying to have better self esteem after struggles with that in the past, feeling more confident from working out.

Stopped using the sharing feature we set up in Google photos with me.

After guilt tripping me for so long because I got to WFH, his job gave him a nice raise and told him he could now WFH because they want to do whatever they need to keep him. That was about 2 months ago and he's worked at home twice.

1 day he wouldn't give me the pin to log into his phone when I just wanted to Google something since I didn't have mine. He was cooking and said that he "doesn't remember it" and "only uses face ID." I thought that was bullshit and gave him side eye but brushed it off. I then realized after cooking that he came and swiped the phone up off the table and disappeared upstairs to "poop." Convenient..

Both of his phones are on total lockdown, I have no way to access them. He says it's because of how I've reacted to porn and porn subscription services he'd paid for in the past that I found. His computer is on lockdown too and he keeps a guest account for me to use if I need to on the rare occasion. He uses the same excuse he has for the phones for his PC. So he's hiding something on all devices without a doubt, but what exactly and the seriousness of it is anyone's guess.

He has suddenly expressed interest in getting a full sleeve tattoo, to cover his hand as well, which he was not very into when we discussed getting tattoos in the past. He also used to say he hated acrylic nails and when I got my hair done but now he's all for it. Suggested we take couples dance lessons which shook me but I thought was a really great attempt to reconnect. With all these other coincidences now though, I don't know. Personal growth or something else?

He has a girl he works with that he talks about on a daily basis. He's always told me about the office drama and coworkers which I like to hear about! But in the last few months he has said her name in conversation almost daily and together they talk about me and her fiance based on stories he's told me. He recently, unprompted mind you, told me they're like "brother and sister." He said he tells me all this to be more open so I don't worry or feel unfortunately. See my other post about how she's a total dime which he never mentioned.

He has been calling me a bitch frequently which is not a normal thing for us. When we were drunk the other night and having fun, we lost the keys and got into an argument. He looked me dead in the face and yelled that "you ain't shit! We all know who is paying for the locksmith and new keys, that's right, it's me!!"

I laid it all out for him tonight about how I'm feeling, that I may very well be crazy in this but I need to know if anything is going on. If there's nothing to hide, please just let me see your phones to ease my mind. He is taken aback and reluctant, it's obvious. But he gives me the personal one and logs me in while I follow him up the stairs to get the work one.

He tries to stall but I'm right up on him because I won't be able to feel at ease unless I can look at his phones without him having time to go thru and hide or delete anything first. He won't let me have both at once and trades me for the work one which I'm most curious for because of the situation. I see there's no texts with her, he's deleted them because I know they've definitely texted because he told me they do. There were many other conversations (mine included) so I know he's specifically deleting his conversations with HER! My heart drops to my stomach. This lack of text trail says so much. I go to the call logs and see some short calls with her too but those can be explained as work related. When confronted about the deleted texts, he says he always deletes the group texts with them it's never just with her. There were several other group chat message trails clearly there though and not deleted sooo.

When you've been in a romantic relationship as long as ours, spouses share everything with each other and want to because of their bond and friendship and closeness! Privacy in this stage is for things like planning surprises, time alone for whatever "you time" that's needed (showering, hobbies, not wanting to have an important work interview listened in on, etc.) Deleting messages isn't privacy, it's SECRECY. You are hiding something!

[canmom]

not-Toku Tuesday 20: Speed Racer!

so this one's been a popular request for a while among my (very small) audience: that time that the two most famous trans girl weebs on the planet made an adaptation of a classic anime, Speed Racer. which may form something of a bridge from purely focusing on Japanese media to like, checking out the rest of the world as well. even if America isn't the best place to start on 'international' film :p

A little context: the original Speed Racer anime, originally titled Mach GoGoGo (マッハGoGoGo), was a project of Tatsuo Yoshida at Tatsunoko Productions in the era of limited TV animation following in the footsteps of Osamu Tezuka.

Although we haven't covered Yoshida on Animation Night at any point, I've definitely run into his legacy: one of our inaugural Toku Tuesday films was the incredible post apocalpytic, music video-esque update of Neo-Human Casshern (1973-4) as Casshern (2004). I also notice he was involved in creating the Gatchaman (1972-4) franchise which later gave rise to the delightful anime Gatchaman Crowds (2013).

But we're here to talk about Speed Racer! So Mach GoGoGo began life as a manga by Yoshida, but he would very soon take it to animation. It tells the story of Gō Mifune, his name a tribute to movie star Toshiro Mifune, and his high-tech 'Mach-Go' (マッハ号) car in 52 episodes of escapades.

The American localisation as Speed Racer would have been among the first anime to find a large audience abroad, and the rights to a movie adaptation of the series ended up with Warner Bros. The Wachowskis were not actually the first choice to direct; an early version of the film had Julien Temple directing and Johnny Depp as the star, but both ended up leaving the project. When their turn came, the Wachowskis brought on the special effects designer John Gaeta who'd worked with them on the matrix, and the film is largely notable because of the novel approach to special effects they came up with...

The years 2005–2008 marked a deepening of the pursuit of sample cinema with new ground covered in the feature Speed Racer. The advent of a new genre type, dubbed "Photo Anime", was the centerpiece of a retro-modern universe in which optimistic pop art design ("Poptimisitic") threaded through dramatic collage based editing and motion graphic heavy kung fu car action. Inspired in part by the production attitude of Sin City, the expressive animated cinema of Hayao Miyazaki and Andy Warhol, the Wachowskis focused Gaeta's sensibilities once more toward new forms of post cinematography, deploying end to end high definition pipelines, comprehensive greenscreen/virtual set processes, fully computer generated race worlds, "2 and 1/2 D" layering methodologies, "faux lensing" as applied to VR location photography (360 degree spherical capture) and "techno color" in pursuit of a different movie experience. In addition to visual effects design for the film, Gaeta was additionally enlisted to creatively produce the Wii game counterpart.[6]

So what's all that jargon supposed to mean? In practice what it means is a really colourful vivid overwhelming approach to the film's CGI-composited race sequences that aims to overwhelm in a kind of abstraction of racing cars along twisting, videogame-like tracks. In terms of anime inspirations, it calls to mind more the Running Man segment of Neo Tokyo (if that were a lot faster paced!) and especially of course especially Koike's Redline. And it does this with some absolutely insane camerawork, deliberately flouting a lot of 'established' conventions of how film should be shot, shooting smoothly between closeups and elaborate long shots of cars. It's really something, and I honestly don't know what you could compare it with.

It landed at the time and... pretty much nobody got it, and the film lost $30 million dollars and got a lot of negative reviews. Yet in the years since it accumulated a bit of a cult following and opinions are starting to shift it a bit. My recommendation comes from @lyravelocity who was way ahead of the curve on appreciating this movie, and I've been meaning to watch it for another!

Since we're really late starting, I think we only have time for the one movie tonight, so I'm afraid @grubhonker's ardent desire for us to watch Cloud Atlas together is going to have to wait for another week further down the line. Hope you can join me; we'll be starting at about 10pm UK time at twitch.tv/canmom - around 20 minutes from this post! v much looking forward to seeing what the fuss is all about from the two American filmmakers who most want to make tokusatsu...

#toku tuesday #Youtube

[jengarie]

#showyourprocess !

From planning to posting, share your process for making creative content!

To continue supporting content makers, this tag game is meant to show the entire process of making creative content: this can be for any creation.

RULES — When your work is tagged, show the process of its creation from planning to posting, then tag up to 5 people with a specific link to one of their creative works you’d like to see the process of. Use the tag #showyourprocess so we can find yours!

Thank you, @rinielle for tagging me! She chose the piece above (original post), and oh boy this one was a whole ass rollercoaster ride! Unfortunately, I hadn't turned on the timelapse feature for this but I'll try to go through each part of the process as best as I can!

The photos I'm gonna upload are gonna be a mix of screenshots and literal photos of my screen, because I'm taking some of them from my updates to friends, since a lot of the steps got lost in my painting process.

But before that, let me tag some other amazing creators!

@dragonji: this gif art!

@candicewright: this yibo painting!

@wendashanren: this gifset!

@mylastbraincql: this gif!

I haven't been able to keep track of who's been tagged so apologies if you've already done this! Also, no pressure to do it at all if you would rather not! <3

Planning

Sometimes, I get an idea first and find reference photos to go with that idea. But for this one, I sought out a reference photo first, and built an idea on top of it!

After that, I roughly sketch out the base pose. Usually, this looks very messy, but it doesn't really matter as long as I understand which part goes where!

The idea for the background didn't really come until the creation process because I don't think I really planned this to be a full piece.

Creation

Sketching

Honestly, from this point on, it's more of trial and error.

So, I redid the the initial base pose—made it cleaner and a little bit more detailed. See: the added definition in their arm muscles, the rearrangement of Wei Wuxian's legs, and Lan Wangji's hand on Wei Wuxian's back. If you look at the second photo, I also changed the pose a bit midway—I tend to edit as I go sometimes when I change my mind. (For this, I thought, given the Lan arm strength, it would be better to make Lan Wangji look more at ease carrying Wei Wuxian. This gets covered by the robes anyway though, so it didn't matter much in the end.)

I also started adding details to the base! I usually start with the face and then the hair! I usually go for the clothes next, but I dreaded the robes in this piece so I guess that's why I ended up with a basic idea of what I wanted for the background instead LOL I also figured out how I want the final crop to look like, so I blocked out all the other areas with an extra layer!

Okay, onto the part that killed me like ten times: the robes. There are a lot of interactions between their robes here given their pose, and not to mention they also have layers upon layers on each of them! So, to maintain my sanity and to keep track of which part is which, I color coded them into the most colorful sketch I've ever made.

Another reason why I filled in each layer of robe with a solid block of color, is so that all the lines underneath gets covered. Without all of the colors, the actual outline actually looks like the one on the right. What a nightmare!

I also ignored the crop again for this part, because it's always better to draw past your borders, in case you decide to rotate or tilt or whatever your piece later on. I didn't do the feet anymore though, because that I was sure wouldn't show in the final piece anymore.

After that, I did the sketch one more time and then started adding the base colors. (I didn't have a screenshot of just the base colors, and the final CSP file is a nightmare so I copy pasted the layers into a new canvas to show you guys :') )

By the way, I drew their robes flowing this way, because I wanted it to frame the lower arch of the moon behind them for the composition. It was a little frustrating that I couldn't get Lan Wangji's robes a little higher because of Wei Wuxian's legs but I later filled in the empty space with his forehead ribbon anyway, so it all worked out in the end!

Painting

Because apparently, I was a masochist back then, I merged the base colors all into one layer and started adding shadows to the robes. (These days, I add shadows first and then, merge. It's much easier this way.)

And then, I started painting! Again, I did the face first and then the hair, before finally the robes. This was my first time painting side profiles and honestly it was quite a pain to figure out LOL but !!! I think I did a good job and I'm proud of how it turned out. I again used reference photos for this one but I can't link any because they were just several random Pinterest photos that I didn't save.

Another thing to note is that I use the mesh transform tool a lot, especially on faces. That's largely why Lan Wangji's face looks so different in the latter two!

And then I went with the robes. Somewhere along the way, I realized I didn't like how I planned to do Lan Wangji's sleeves and the flowy part of Wei Wuxian's robes and I... decided, with much dread, to do them over. So I sketched on top of the painted layers and redid the robes, again.

It was at this point that I decided to take a break from this piece because it was honestly very draining! I think it took about three weeks before I decided to open the file again and continue it.

When I did, I just finished painting the rest of the robes and their hands. The blue details on Lan Wangji's outer robes were painted on a separate layer that I put on Multiply. I probably did more adjustments to the face and hair and stuff, because my painting process is honestly a mess :')

Final Adjustments

I added some correction layers on certain areas to fix some of the colors. See: Lan Wangji's sleeve becoming much brighter and paler; Wei Wuxian's legs having less contrast. And then I merged all of the layers (excluding the background) and added a bit of blur. See: Wei Wuxian's ponytail; the entire lower part; the flowing forehead ribbon. My reasoning for this is so that most of the detail (and therefore the flow of the eye) goes to their faces and expressions!

And then, I put a blue Overlay layer on low opacity to make Wangxian blend better with the background, added a bit of shadow on the inside and the lower sections and added the glowing details for the added flair. I initially wanted sparkles and/or stars but they didn't turn out as well as this did. I also upped the contrast by a little for the entire piece!

Aaaand, that's it! In truth, I did a bit more color adjustments to the whole piece, but I was a dummy who forgot to turn them back on before posting so ... oh well.

Posting

Before posting, I upload it either on my spare private Twitter account or on a drafted Tumblr post so I can check the colors on my phone. This is because the colors on different devices can look very different, and I would at the very least want all my pieces to look nice on both of my devices!

And then, once I deem it satisfactory, I just try to think of a caption and post! Some artists wait for a certain time where most of their followers are active, but I didn't have a lot of MDZS followers at this point so it didn't really matter to me.

It still doesn't really; I haven't actually been able to figure out when my MDZS followers are awake even now.

#showyourprocess #mine #whew this was so long oops #but this piece took like #maybe 1.5 weeks sans the break i had to take #so !! #LOL #tag game

[echo-three-one]

Chapter 38

THE ROAD SO FAR

The EIGHT-Thirty Appointment

John 'Soap' MacTavish

London, UK

Following the events of Shepherd's surrender to authorities, the members of Task Force 141 who went rogue in pursuit of him had been exonerated from treason. This meant that from then on, life would be a little more 'normal'. No more hiding in public, no more lack of equipment, no more secret hiding areas.

This prompted Laswell to recreate the task force she once poured her heart on, with a few changes to its jurisdiction. With Ghost, Roach and Alexandra still recovering, the remaining members were invited to celebrate their success.

"So John, now that 141 is back your main focus will be Nero. Do you want the reassigned members back?" Laswell asked Price while they exited the building. Soap overheard this because he thought he was the John being called.

"If it's still okay and not much of a hassle, then yes." Price replied.

"What about Kyle?" Laswell added.

"No. Not yet. Just keep an eye on him." Price mused and turned to Soap, who quickly turned to focus back on Alex as he pushed his wheelchair.

"Excuse me, Captain Price. Can we talk for a moment?" Samantha interrupted as they stopped on their tracks. Alex turned out of curiosity, wondering what matter they were discussing.

"Hey hey hey. What was that about?" Alex asked Soap and France, who continued walking. Laswell turned to the next right as she already finished her conversation with Price, waving at Alex and the rest of the 141.

Soap chuckled at the CIA. This was about Samantha's surprise for him and he shouldn't spoil it.

"Well, with 141 back maybe she just wanted to know where she will be now. Nero no longer needs the IP Address and she's been through a lot." France reasoned, making Alex frown.

"You know… I want her safe and all but I also want her within my reach. I've lost her far too many times already. I'm not going to lose her again." Alex grumbled making Soap and France look at each other, their faces were worried at their sorry excuse.

"I think Samantha feels the same way too. Maybe she's bargaining for staying at 141." Soap lied, making France question him quietly.

"You know what, Alex? Don't overthink this." Soap tapped his shoulders reassuringly.

"Overthink what?" Samantha inserted. They fell quiet and Samantha slowly asked Soap to let her push Alex as they moved forward, Samantha being excited of what's next.

"Well, we did a great job. I guess." Soap quietly commented sarcastically, earning a soft elbow from France.

"Ow!" he exaggerated and turned to France, his face looked bewildered.

"Way to go, John." She sneered and followed the two on their way to their appointment, riding Soap's trusty jeep.

The drive to the surprise area consisted of mostly Soap and Francine acting like couples while they drove. Soap could see the two murmuring at each other whenever Soap would argue with France on whatever's going on in the road.

"I always wanted to try out some London restaurants." she mused, looking at the place they just passed by.

"Yeah? I could see you as the fancy kind." he chuckled at his guess.

"What does that mean?" France gave him a suspicious glare. Soap looked at her, feigning surrender.

"I just said it as is. You're the kind of person who would want fancy stuff." He explained, focusing back on the road.

"I-"

"Come on. You don't have to read everything I say between the lines. Sometimes, I'm just a simple man" he whined and Alex and Samantha burst out laughing, causing the two to be quiet.

"Are you sure there's nothing going on with you two?" Samantha asked, making the silence a little bit more awkward.

Soap carefully rolled his eyes toward Francine, who was actually looking down and blushing. He really had no definitive stance on whatever's going on between them, and if you ask him, he'd love to assume that they're already together. But he remembered that he told her that he'll be patient, and that's the only thing that's hindering him from taking her to the next level.

"Well…" Francine croaked, her voice was shaky and Soap was actually worried that she was already under pressure.

"We're here." Soap interrupted, wishing he did the right thing. Alex quickly looked outside to see where they actually were.

"What is this place, Soap? Where did you bring us?" Alex asked and Soap just nodded.

"I'll let your girl fill in everything for you. This was her idea after all and we're here to help her out." Soap replied as he assisted him to his wheelchair and watched the two enter the establishment.

He then knocked on Samantha's door as she was still out of focus.

"There's a coffee shop across the street, we could wait there until they finish." He invited her for another coffee date. Hopefully this time, there would be no more emp phone wielding persons to interrupt it.

"About Samantha's question…" She muttered.

"Don't pressure yourself about it. You actually owe me for saving you, by the way." He chuckled, already opening her door.

France slowly stepped down the vehicle and turned to Soap, her head looked up to his face.

"Look John. There's no other reason I can think of that would make you wait anymore. I really enjoy your company, your personality, and I'm curious about everything else about you. So, if you've been waiting all this time ever since that night, my answer is that I'm ready." She smiled, and John's eyes widened at the sight of her. The message made him hug her tight, lift her up and spin her around briefly while she giggled at the feeling.

"Wow. You don't know how much you made my day, France!" he sighed as he slowly set her down and closed the door and made their way to the coffee shop.

"I missed these so much!" France happily chewed on a slice of blueberry cheesecake, with a few crumbs stuck on the edge of her mouth. Soap smiled as she watched her enjoy the simple things in life, a thing he was always looking for in women.

Most of his dating life were his parents setting him up on business dates and most women there were far too serious. They looked like they haven't enjoyed anything in years. Some of them admittedly loved to have fun, but their idea of fun was far too complicated. Like expensive travels and luxurious shopping sprees, none of them piqued Soap's interest.

However, Francine was the first one who begged to differ. It's like every great idea in John's activity book is enjoyable for her. Simple things such as Netflix, Cinemas and even this coffee shop date, made her smile.

"What's funny?" Francine asked as she noticed the odd smile on his face.

"Oh nothing… you just looked cute eating that whole thing. It makes me want to buy a whole cake and watch you smile and eat that all day." he mused, imagining how things would've been if they weren't in public. He could've been tasting that cake from her mouth already.

He quickly grabbed a tissue and wiped off the crumbs as Francine blushed in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry. I didn't notice it was there." she blushed shyly and looked down.

"Nah… why apologize. I was thinking you were hinting at me to kiss you. Like what most movies and cliché shows would mean." He scoffed and sipped on his coffee.

"Ha ha. Well you could try. As if I'd let you." She smiled bravely, but Soap could see her weakness behind that smile. She's raising her guard up again, and it's always like that when people are around.

"Wow. Umm that went differently." Soap commented, attempting to let France open up. This has been a common trend with her lately, toughening up when people are around but when they're alone, she's still strict but less tense.

"I'm sorry. It's just-" She hesitated and turned to the window.

"Say, how long would it take for them to finish?" She asked. Soap also turned to the building and shrugged.

"I don't know. Honestly, I'm excited for him. They make the best prosthetics around here and it'd make Alex's life easier. It'll look and weigh and bend like an actual leg." he said proudly as he turned to France who was looking at him weirdly.

"What?" he asked as he checked his phone which just beeped.

"Actually, they're almost done. And they're asking for an order. I'll just go get some for them, you stay here." He added, holding the thought, wiping his face and proceeded to the counter.

The reformed Task Force 141 would soon be back in business as papers were already approved by the board. They'll be situating themselves on American soil as their previous base was compromised by the traitorous General.

As for their last day on English soil, the rest of the team stayed in a penthouse condominium unit owned by the MacTavishes.

"Wow. This is top class!" Samantha mused as Alex plopped himself on the couch, his new leg quickly rested on the table. He's been in it for only a few hours but he already got the hang of it.

Samantha shot a glare at Alex's actions to which he shrugged on, prompting Soap to reply.

"Don't worry Samantha, make yourselves at home. We don't use this place anyway so help yourselves out. I promise it'll be fine." he eased as Samantha slowly plopped down beside him as Alex's arm rested on her shoulders. Soap actually wondered if he could do that to her too, get comfortable, open up, just normal stuff.

"I'll go get tea." he quickly said to himself as his imagination got the best of him as he walked to the kitchen. France quickly followed him to help out.

"Fancy place you got here, John. I wonder how many girls you've brought in here." She mused standing in front of him, helping with the teacups. Soap eyed her for a second and replied.

"Honestly, I can't count. I used to stay here when I studied and that was years ago." he replied as seriously as possible, looking at the changes on her face. She's actually jealous.

"Yeah. Figures. I saw your photos from earlier years. It was no doubt you'd have a lot of women over." She chuckled, nervously at it. Soap saw through her as she started to get curious about his life. A sign that she's ready to stop lowering her guard. Soap on the other hand, wanted her to feel special. Asking her out as soon as possible would make him come out as a desperate one, so he planned to do it the long traditional way. Which he actually despised, he would want to hug her so tight right now and it was already killing him.

"What about you? How many different rooms did you wake up to already?" he asked, changing the subject as she was already starting to feel bad about her question.

"Me?! Only a few. And most of them were owned by you. I've been very serious about my life choices that I never let myself loose." she sighed as Soap raised an eyebrow.

"Let loose? Like going out to parties?" He added.

"Yes. But broader. Like letting myself loose. I've always followed the path I wanted to be in, not letting any distractions bother me." she explained, blushing at it like it's a secret she was too shy to tell. Soap on the other hand, didn't quite get it.

"So you mean…" He tilted his head.

"Yes. Since birth, I never had a boyfriend." she looked down in embarrassment for the second time today.

Soap gulped. He didn't actually know how to respond to her statement. Sure he wanted to be the first one, but now wasn't the time. It would feel forced. And he wasn't a fan of forced relationships.

The kettle whistled and the two of them quickly responded to it as they both reached out for it, their hands met just by the handle.

"I'll take care of this one." She said as Soap slowly let go of her soft hands and watched her pour it on, carrying it to Samantha and Alex who were already giggling through a romcom.

"Way to go, John." he muttered to himself with a sigh as he ran his hand on his hair.

The day actually felt worse as France continued to remain quiet towards Soap as she invested herself on the television, third wheeling on Alex and Samantha.

Soap pondered about the words he chose to say to her and those he didn't over a steamy shower.

With the place having only two bedrooms, it was inevitable that France would sleep beside him but he also considered sleeping on the couch to respect her privacy or something like that.

As soon as he exited the bathroom, he saw France already tucked on her side of the bed, scrolling through her phone.

"Hey there." he muttered as she rolled her eyes to him and back to her phone.

"Hey." she said nonchalantly, her eyes dead focused on her screen. Soap quickly grabbed his nighttime clothes and slipped them on.

"Are you in any way excited for tomorrow?" he asked, trying to keep her from interacting with him.

"Yeah. A little." she said as she turned to him and smiled.

"Listen, about earlier today, in the kitchen..." he said.

"I'm not mad, John. I just wanted to say it out there so you could understand me."

"Tell me what you feel."

"Embarrassed."

"Why?"

"Because I looked like a fool earlier. When I told you I was ready and now I feel that you're the one who isn't. You told me you would wait but-" Soap placed his hand on her face, gently touching her cheek.

"France. You don't have to worry. You're still the one I'm thinking about every second. I just… wanted to do this the slow and steady way, where I would show off how worthy I am for you. I want you to enjoy the whole John MacTavish Experience." he smiled and she slowly turned her frown upside down.

Soap wanted to take a picture of that smile and plaster it all around the room as his heart started to pound like crazy, his face unknowingly moving closer to hers. They both started to close their eyes as they let their lips do the talking, but in a quiet and intimate way. Soap felt France's greed for his kiss as she slowly learned how to beg for more of him. It was true that she had no experience on these things but something told him that she's starting to learn some tricks herself.

Soap didn't hesitate to retaliate as she released a soft groan, a sign of her being content as her hands slowly grazed his arms, her thumb softly pressed his biceps, digging deeper as their tongues clashed. After a few more seconds, they both broke their kiss as they gasped for air.

"Yeah. Go sleep on the floor before we do something stupid." She giggled and Soap nodded in agreement as they quickly shuffled about, set their beds and called it a night.

Next Chapter - The SEVEN Inch Wound

Notification Squad my Beloved

@samatedeansbroccoli @smokeywhalee @enderio @bumblingbee1 @ricinbach @whimsywispsblog

#alex echo 3 1 #john soap mactavish #codmw #horrayfic #john price #gary roach sanderson #whateverittakes #simon ghost riley

[inevitably-johnlocked]

I've been feeling really detached from reality lately and the only thing I'm doing consistently everyday is going through fics and tumblr. I'm 17 and have to start uni applications soon but I'm too demotivated :( Do you think I'm wasting my life? Bcs my parents surely think so, and I want nothing more than to hide in my blankets and never come out again. I feel very unproductive and I need to get my life together and actually do something other than sleep, read and write. (1)

I just got into Sherlock recently and I'm totally obsessed with it, almost a year ago I was as obsessed with BTS (kpop band) to the point Mom had me talking to the counsellor to find a solution for my obsession. When I left the BTS fandom Mom was happy that I'm finally getting my life back on track and focusing on school, but here I am doing it all over again with Sherlock. I don't want to do this, but I feel like Sherlock is the only escape I have from reality now.I have to be an adult soon (2)

Hey Nonny *HUGS*

The short answer to your question: No, you’re not wasting your life.

Here’s my anecdotal long answer: 

It’s easy to feel disillusioned at 17, especially if you’re expected to do one thing or another. Now, I can’t speak to your situation because my parents were supportive of my decisions and fandom life, so I never really had that problem. Which is where I’m going to start: Your mum has issues of her own, it seems, and may be projecting a bit onto you... Some obsessions absolutely need counselling, but I doubt you were at the level of stalking and creeping and gatekeeping the fandom. I imagine you were collecting photos and sharing music and videos with your friends. Jesus your mum would have an aneurysm if she met me then – I’m nearing 40, and my apt is full of Funkos, movies, photos, magazines, collectable figurines, and in my off hours I draw fanart, play video games, and maintain a fairly-popular fandom blog. BUT I can see her side of things – she just wants you to get a career and be able to fend for yourself – but, in my opinion, stifling the things you enjoy REALLY makes for a shitty adult life. It’s no wonder you’re unmotivated – you’ve nothing to look forward to except studying and nothing else.

Here’s my anecdotal story: I didn’t start college until I was 22. I got rejected from all the colleges and universities I applied to at 18, and naturally that blew the wind out of my sails. I wanted to be an animator. I worked my ass off to get into courses, and I didn’t. My self esteem was in the shitter after that, the guidance counsellor assigned to me at school basically said “oh well, LOL” and I was lost. It SUCKS. My parents were still supportive of me, and told me to at least get a job, because they didn’t want me to sit around doing nothing. So I did. I worked for two years in retail, and I hated it. But it kept me busy and I was allowed to enjoy my life at that time. And, in my own time, mostly motivated by my family moving, I decided I was ready to apply to school again, because those two years I worked at IFuckingHateWalMart, gave me some money for school and a desire to never work retail again. And guess what? It’s a LOT fucking easier to get into school as a “Mature Student” (in Ontario, if you’re over 19, they consider you a mature student), because they know you’re serious about school and they just want your money. 

I applied to 5 different arts-related programs, 3 of them Graphic Design, one Fine Arts, and I think the other was Art History. I got accepted to all 5 programs. I chose the different career path because I actually took time to research, and decided that since I wasn’t up to snuff as an animator (and the program I wanted to try again for wasn’t there anymore), I’m REALLY GOOD with computers, so let’s try this design thing. I love it.

Anyway, the point to this story, Lovely, is that perhaps you also are someone, like me, who just needs a break to figure out what you want to do with your life. I don’t regret taking a couple years before going back to school. And that may be what you and your mum need to discuss. 

So, to summarize in said discussion:

You need to be firm with your mum that stifling things that make you happy makes you feel unmotivated to move forward in your life. You don’t intend on not furthering your education, you just need a mental break and Sherlock and BTS makes you WHO you are, and makes you happy.

You need some time to decide what you want to do with your future. I really REALLY hate this culture of schools forcing you to decide what you want to do with the rest of your life even before you’re legally allowed to drink in most places. It’s so terribly horrible. The pressure I had to apply during high school was so terrible, that teachers made you feel like a failure when you graduated and had no college path set. It’s awful. I’m telling you, taking the couple years (it was only going to be a year but I wasn’t ready after a year) to reflect on my future and to decide what I wanted to do next was the best decision I made. Do you know how GOOD it felt to have all 5 colleges accept me after being rejected two years prior? It felt GOOD to send rejection letters to people wanting to have my money, LOL. AND I feel like I succeeded, because I was able to see the job market and figure out what career path would be sustainable for me in the arts field. GC is still a cut-throat field and I’m still not respected despite nearly 20 years later, but that’s my own fault for being stagnant in never leaving the newspaper (also, never work at a newspaper).

Fandom and Real Life can co-exist, provided you don’t let fandom rule everything. Your mum is lying to you if she tells you that she wasn’t / isn’t a fan of things, so ask her what music or movies make her happy. It’s the simplest form of fandom, but there you go.

That all said, Nonny, don’t give up, and it’s okay to feel unmotivated during All This™. I can’t even imagine what the point would be to apply for school in September if no one is even going to be in a classroom environment, erf. And if you need an excuse to hold off, there you go, tell your mum that you want to have a think about what career you want to pursue, AND you would rather it be in a classroom environment anyway, because you need that “study environment” to stay focussed on your studies, and not at home where the “distracting terrible fandom stuff” is, hah.

And finally: Being an adult isn’t all that bad. I can buy whatever fandom-related fuck I want and no one can stop me. I do what I want, when I want. I watch youtube, blog, play video games, travel, draw, and buy toys all because it makes me happy. And yeah, I have the boring adult stuff like taxes and groceries and rent and a job and debt, but if you can get all that stuff organized and sorted early in your life like I did (I have a set amount of money set aside a month for all the above from the job), then you can figure out what you can do that’s fun based on what’s left from the boring stuff.

TL;DR of all this: Talk to Mum, take some time, and enjoy life.

I hope this has helped you somewhat, Nonny. I know I tend to ramble a lot, but I do genuinely think that you just need time, and some understanding from your mum. You’ll feel a lot better about moving forward if you have those things, I think. 

Love you Nonny, and I hope you’re alright <3

#steph replies #my advice #life advice #about me #chatting with nonnies #growing up #Anonymous