bearstruck

[bearstruck]

For once those among the Konni ranks had some down time, most of them refused to leave base in case they were suddenly needed for something, others decided to explore the nearby town to satisfy their vices. Aleksandr decided to stay put, knowing if he had went into the town he might get into something problematic. So outside he sat with some others, the majority ranked lower than him, just the way he liked it.

Fingers delicately strum the strings of a battered guitar, one that was found and brought back by one of the younger recruits, thinking it'd be good for a moral boost. Eyes fall upon a familiar face making it's way towards them, a slight smirk forming on Aleksandr's lips as @sunsache approaches them.

He moves his fingers with intent as he continues to strum out chords, having a new found purpose with it. ❝ Dimitri, you should know this one. ❞ Upon playing the strings further, the other's realize it's Soldat he's playing. ❝ I'm a solider I haven't slept in five years... ❞ His voice trails off, gaze refusing to leave Dimitri, a silent way of saying that he wants him to continue the verse.

[bearstruck]

@warfared said: ❝ Books mean more to me than people anyway. ❞

A soft ❛ hmm ❜ passes through his lips as he gently taking the book from Mishka's hands and places it on the bed side table ( not before being nice enough to mark the page ). Aleksandr beckons Mishka to stand up, his movement a bit urgent. ❝ I want to show you something. ❞ If Mishka were to guess that Aleksandr wanted to give him a demo of how his latest creation worked, he'd be correct.

❝ Better than a book, I promise. ❞

[bearstruck]

Aggravation seeps through his veins, for now, she's gotten the better of him. Various methods of escape play through his mind, running the many options along with their pros and their cons. Or should he let her have this? No, he's not going to allow her room to gain anything. What he will give her is a reminder. Aleksandr is in no mood to give her the space to gain some pride. He takes a moment, reminding himself of just who he is ( who he sees himself as ).

He wishes she tapped out.

Heavy breath, with how she's positioned above him she could feel the rapid pace of the rise and fall of his chest. There is something in his eyes that's foreign, a look that's never been displayed before ( at least not to her ), a look reserved for moments that would be considered more intimate than this. He raises his knees, pushing them against Mira's back to bring her closer. Slowly but surely he raises his arms up, his hands cupping her face providing a delicate touch that she's never felt from him before. He gently guides her face closer to his, noses barely brushing against each other. He wonders if she's pondered this before.

She should've tapped out sooner.

He delivers his final blow. Dominant hand bangs against her skull as he shoves Mira off of him, but with his other hand he still held her cheek, fingers laced in her hair, Aleksandr doesn't allow her head to hit the concrete floor. He'll offer her a small bit of kindness.

❝ You're done. I'm done. We're done. ❞

@bearstruck

in times like these, she wishes to see people's faces even harder than usually. alek seems angry — no, mad — he slurs his words and spits as he speaks. most often than not, that would be a desired reaction — to set someone ablaze with fury, but not in the circumstances of her being held from above.

aleksandr's a skin-colored blur with a splotch of red that indicates one of her blows split his skin. good, he'll have a reminder of their little sparring session to admire later on. everywhere he's gonna see his reflection, he's gonna think of her. that's satisfying enough.

she would have tapped out. really.

if he just shut his damn muzzle.

he's trying to get a reaction out of her, that's for sure. he's trying to get anything but the blank stare only she can offer. she does not talk back, knows better, even if her skin is itchy and she has to bite her own tongue to stop herself from throwing insults.

aleksandr asks if she's done.

she's far from it.

mira's been there and done that — trapped underneath men and women larger and stronger than her. these were truly challenging, not to say her current opponent is not, but alek's losing focus, so she bucks up her hips while gritting her teeth, frees her hands and then holds onto his arm for dear life, rolling them yet again, ending up on top, taking a comfortable seat on the man's hips.

she spits, a mix of blood and saliva, but not in his face, no. the point has been proven nonetheless with no need for additional humiliation.

okay, maybe not. just a little sprinkle?

“good job,” she replies in his native language, face as expressionless as always. “you lost to a little civvie girl playing war with big soldiers.”

[bearstruck]

@exspetz said: ❝ Clean yourself up. You're getting blood all over the place. ❞

Aleksandr's breath hitches as he hears his commander's voice coming from behind him. He isn't one to get nervous, but something is rising in his chest and he can't tell if it's simply because Yuri is his superior or if it stems from the fact that Aleksandr holds some admiration for him. Instead of turning his whole body around to face him, he just turns his head.

❝ Everything went smoothly today. ❞ Words fall from his lips with ease but it doesn't remove the feeling that they felt forced, it's not what he wanted to say, but he doesn't think he could speak the words he craved to. He was a boy who forced himself into the position of a man without entirely understanding what that meant for him. In this moment, that showed on his face. ❝ Should my report be given to you directly or should I pass it off to Oleg first? ❞

[bearstruck]

He listens intently as Mishka speaks, holding onto every word as if it were his last. Fingers lace around his cigarette as he inhales, letting the smoke blow out his nose as he removes it from his lip, tapping it twice he lets the ash hit the floor. They already had a new recruit lined up to take Mishka's room once he left. A replacement, he wonders how fast Oleg would have another in his spot if something were to ever happen to him.

Aleksandr brushes the thought from his head as he leans forward, placing his left hand on his knee. He takes a look around the room, soaking in the small details of decor Mishka had chosen for his space. Tomorrow it'd be gone, and another one would be claiming his bed, his sheets, his pillow as his own. Even if Mishka does come back, nothing will be the same. Would he come back a hero to their cause or would he be caught?

❝ But given the circumstances I don't think they'd be too happy to have a Russian in their midst, might make them uneasy, they already don't trust civilians who have nothing to do with our cause. ❞ He's right, and he knows he's right, at this point it's not even about knowing it, it's about the concern he holds in his chest for Mishka and how unfamiliar it is to him. ❝ What's your plan if Ivan or Nolan, maybe even both get caught? ❞ For Aleksandr the answer is easy, eliminate the threat if it came to saving his own neck. But if it came down to it, does Mishka have it in him to do what needs to be done? Or would something happen once he's there that prevents him from carrying out his duty?

mishka raises his eyes from his book as the door's opened with abruptness, watching it slam against the wall, handle bouncing against a small dent in the wall behind it. he shifts so he's sitting against the wall to make more room for the other, setting his book aside on the pillow.

his eyes glance down at the cigarette pack first, then his attention is redirected when fingers are fixed against his jaw, and he turns his head to face aleksandr, unable to stop himself from staring into the other's eyes until the cigarette between his lips is lit.

" might, " mishka replies with a small shrug, his voice a low rasp. speaking to his brothers-in-arms is easier than it would be otherwise. it won't be too hard to keep quiet in america when he already doesn't speak much at all.

" they are a pmc . . . probably used to seeing more global weapon handling, " he adds, crossing one leg over the other as he takes a drag of his cigarette. " still put in the effort to learn, though. ivan and nolan will be in charge. might get my ass beat if i don't do everything by the book, " he snorts.

[bearstruck]

&. 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬.

( this is basically just a very self indulgent list of various fluff, angst, and suggestive themed dialogue sentence starters. )

❛ i could keep you safe. they’re all afraid of me. ❜

❛ i’m trying to fix your hair, so hold still. ❜

❛ your heart is beating so fast right now. ❜

❛ promise me you’ll still be here when i wake up. ❜

❛ you’re not as bad as everyone says you are. ❜

❛ i thought you’d like some company. ❜ 

❛ clean yourself up. you're getting blood all over the place. ❜

❛ here, give this a try and tell me what you think. ❜

❛ you can kiss me, you know. ❜

❛ come back to bed. ❜

❛ you look good like this. ❜

❛ working together again, it’s just like old times. ❜

❛ how is it you always know what i need, huh? ❜

❛ you’re lucky you got away with only a scratch. ❜ 

❛ i can’t imagine losing someone like that. i’m sorry. ❜

❛ you know you can always talk to me. ❜

❛ the only one who gets to kill you, is me. ❜

❛ so, what do i owe this pleasure? ❜

❛ ah, so you aren’t heartless after all. ❜

❛ may i have this dance? ❜ 

❛ it’s okay, you can touch me. i won't break. ❜

❛ enemies make the best lovers, you know. ❜

❛ hold still. this might sting a little. ❜

❛ we can't keep doing this. ❜ 

❛ you look like you've got something to say. ❜

❛ just relax and let me take care of you. ❜

❛ thought you’d be lighter without all that blood. ❜

❛ i had it under control. you didn’t need to do that. ❜

❛ everything looks so beautiful from up here. ❜

❛ you treat all your ladies like this? ❜

❛ well? how do i look? ❜

❛ can’t sleep? ❜

❛ do you mind if i smoke? ❜

❛ i’m scared of ending up alone. ❜

❛ i don’t think i’ve ever seen you smile. ❜

❛ how long has it been since you've slept? ❜

❛ you are losing my interest, and that’s very dangerous. ❜

❛ i’d suffer hell if you’d tell me what you’d do to me tonight. ❜

❛ you look really pretty right now. ❜

❛ i’ve never cared for anyone the way i care for you. ❜

❛ i’m not wearing any underwear. thought you’d like to know. ❜

❛ just a few more stitches and you’ll be as good as new. ❜

❛ i’d say we make a pretty good team. ❜

❛ i want you to forget this ever happened. ❜

❛ i'm here for business — not pleasure. ❜

❛ if i didn't know any better, i'd say you were jealous. ❜

❛ you'd look better down on your knees. ❜

❛ fine, keep acting like you hate me. ❜

❛ kiss me again. ❜

❛ are you asking me out on a date? ❜

❛ just sit there and look pretty and let me handle this. ❜

❛ you okay? caught you staring off into space again. ❜

❛ well, i do feel better now that you're here. ❜

❛ i'm not drunk enough for this. ❜ 

❛ why is it whenever we see each other, you’re covered in blood? ❜

❛ i was wrong about you. ❜ 

❛ the first time i met you, i had no idea you'd mean this much. ❜

❛ you gonna be a good girl / boy for me? ❜

❛ i’m not afraid of you. ❜

❛ books mean more to me than people anyway. ❜

❛ i just wanted to say thank you for protecting me. ❜

❛ how about a kiss goodnight? ❜

❛ i don’t have time for distractions right now. ❜

❛ you shouldn’t be out here by yourself. ❜ 

❛ if i have to think about one more thing today, my head will explode. ❜

[bearstruck]

He does not speak as he enters @warfared sleeping quarters. But he does throw the door open aggressively, offering more force than usual. Empty gaze falls upon Mishka as he stands in the door frame. For a moment, Aleksandr considers leaving, the two weren't close, yet a final interaction that was more than just watching his comrade be escorted off of the base, a brief moment of eye contact followed with a nod that silently meant ❛ good luck ❜. He brushes off the feeling of awkwardness with ease as he steps into the room, sitting down on the bed beside Mishka.

He doesn't look at him as he fingers his pocket, pulling out a pack of Belomorkanal cigarettes. Digits flip open the pack, removing two. Aleksandr doesn't ask Mishka if he wants one, instead he just pushes the butt of it into his lips, then places one between his own. He takes out his lighter, flicking it quickly to light his, yet instead of passing it to Miska or allowing him to take out his own, Aleksandr instead gently brushes his index finger and thumb against the other's jaw, beckoning him to turn his head. He then presses the tip of his cigarette against Mishka's to light it. A grand gesture from the boy who represented Novokuznetsk.

❝ You think the American scum have better beds in their base? ❞ He'll lead the conversation in their native tongue, thinking that Mishka would enjoy being able to speak Russian before having to hide the language. ❝ And did you learn how the American's reload? I've heard stories about how they found spies just based on that alone. ❞ His eyebrow raises slightly after the question leaves him. He can't help but wonder what would happen if Mishka got caught, and if it did how soon would it happen.

[bearstruck]

okay but a plot where aleksandr is undercover and is constantly just barely avoiding getting caught, thanks.

[bearstruck]

continued from here.

Her sudden sense of bravado had impressed him, even threw him off the slightest bit. He feels as skin above his eyebrow breaks and warm liquid begins to drip down sunken sockets. He's had enough. His right hand grips @prosopagn0sis wrists tightly, she had knocked him down, his back grinding against the concrete floor. Aggressively he flips them onto their sides, then rotates them once more so Mira was on her back while he hovered over her. His grip on her wrists tightened as he pressed his lower half down on her thighs to prevent further movement.

❝ Have you proven your point yet? ❞ Russian seeps off his tongue, always refusing to speak English no matter how hard anyone pried. Heavy and hot breath brushes against Mira's face, his eyes glaring into her own. His own seemed darker than usual, possibly suggesting that he was nearing the brink of something, mentally he danced around the edge of a frenzy, but he'll contain himself for now.

Aleksandr does not let go of her, no matter how hard she tried to worm out of his grasp. Maybe she should've opted to carry something on her, he would've preferred it if she had an underhanded tactic hidden in her sleeves. It always made things more fun.

❝ Are you done? ❞

[bearstruck]

𝙰 𝙿𝚁𝙸𝚉𝙴𝙳 𝙼𝚄𝙻𝙴 𝙷𝙰𝚂 𝙱𝙴𝙴𝙽 𝙿𝚄𝚁𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚂𝙴𝙳

just how exactly did Aleksandr Volkov find himself underneath Vladimir Makarov's command?

THE  POD  WAS  UNUSUALLY  QUIET.  Word  had  gotten  out  among  the  inmates  that  they  might  have  a  chance  to  be  plucked  out  of  the  cuckoo’s  nest.  Most  would  never  make  it  out  the  prison  walls  alive,  and  they  accepted  that,  yet  others  refused  to  swallow  the  pill,  this  new  opportunity  that  would  only  allow  a  select  few  out  had  ruffled  some  feathers.  Aleksandr  had  heard  about  it,  but  it  wasn’t  something  that  grabbed  hold  of  his  interest  and  choked  it.  He  had  other  things  to  worry  about,  he  had  been  planning  this  for  weeks,  nothing  was  getting  in  the  way  of  it.  The  bruises  had  faded,  cuts  had  healed,  he  had  given  himself  enough  time  to  recover  before  he  carried  it  out.  

A  week  prior  he  had  been  caught  off  guard  in  the  showers,  something  about  how  he  had  to  earn  the  cross  tattoo  on  his  chest  properly.  His  body  was  slammed  onto  the  concrete  floor,  heavy  boots  repeatedly  stomped  on  his  back,  arms,  legs… how  fast  he  recovered  was  surprising.

The  cross  had  a  handful  of  meanings,  yet  the  reason  why  he  had  it  inked  into  his  chest  was  the  fact  that  it  conveyed  that  he  had  accepted  his  crimes  and  that  he  wasn’t  afraid  to  face  God.  The  other  inmates  didn’t  like  that.  Being  relatively  new  to  the  pod  had  its  issues,  many  thinking  he  had  to  earn  his  right  to  respect,  to  basic  decency,  Aleksandr  believed  it  should’ve  been  handed  to  him  on  a  silver  platter.  But  he  was  finally  going  to  take  the  steps  he  needed  to  for  his  peers  to  (  FEAR  )  respect  him.  

With  contraband  in  his  pocket  Aleksandr  steps  out  of  his  cell.  His  footsteps  were  heavy  as  he  made  his  way  down  the  steps  and  into  the  common  area.  That  is  when  he  notices  the  man  in  military  clothing,  watching  his  every  move  from  the  gallery  that  the  guards  would  linger.  They  never  really  bothered  to  step  into  the  pod,  only  when  a  body  dropped  without  a  pulse.  The  violence  in  the  air  was  ready  to  fall  out,  but  for  a  moment…  still,  it  stood. 

The  man’s  gaze  never  left  Aleksandr,  he  knew  what  the  boy  was  going  to  do,  and  through  eye  contact  alone  he  gave  him  confirmation  to  carry  it  out.  A  sick  grin  crept  onto  Aleksandr’s  features  once  he  realized  that  his  act  had  been  approved  of.  His  right  hand  was  buried  in  his  pocket,  fingers  grasping  the  hilt  tightly.  His  target  had  his  back  turned  to  him,  his  body  hunched  over  the  table  while  he  played  Spades,  Mikhail.  Digits  from  Aleksandr’s  left  hand  gripped  Mikhail’s  hair  as  his  head  was  pulled  back,  ❝ Payback’s  a  bitch.  ❞  

His  voice  is  stern,  loud  enough  to  echo  throughout  the  room,  but  it  lacked  emotion.  This  one  has  potential,  but  was   he  willing  to  bend  the  knee  to  be  shaped?  The  knife  wasn’t  enough  to  take  down  Mikhail,  just  a  flesh  wound.  With  the  blade  still stuck  in  his  chest  he  rose  from  his  seat,  towering  over  Aleksandr,  a  side  sweep  to  his  legs,  he  fell  to  the  ground  but  wouldn’t  stay  down  long.  With  adrenaline  rushing  through  his  veins,  the  same  way  forbidden  ambrosia  would  rush  through  his  father’s,  Aleksandr  rose  up,  a  wobble  in  his  leg,  his  breath  heavy.  Once  more  he  looked  to  the  military  man,  searching  for  approval  in  his  glare.  He’s  still  got  it.  Good.   He  doesn’t  raise  the  knife  again,  instead  opting  to  pounce  on  him,  understanding  that  it’d  take  underhanded  tactics  to  get  the  result  he  wanted.  He  wishes  his  teeth  were  filed  down  as  they  sink  into  the  flesh  of  Mikhail’s  neck.  Rip,  tear,  bite.

A  guttural  groan  escapes  Mikhail’s  lips  as  his  nails  dig  into  Aleksandr’s  shoulders  in  an  attempt  to  pry  the  smaller  Russian  off  his  figure.  A  soft  grunt  makes  its  way  through  the  clamped  teeth,  usually  Aleksandr  would  find  the  act  pleasurable,  but  given  the  circumstances  he  couldn’t  show  his  satisfaction.  Rotten  boy  from  Novokuznetsk,  troubled  boy,  how  he  misses  how  the  babushkas  would  whisper  sullied  words  whenever  he  passed  by.  Aleksandr  refuses  to  let  up  on  Mikhail  even  as  his  knees  buckle,  taking  both  of  them  to  the  ground,  he  couldn’t  stop,  he  had  an  audience.  He  was  in  a  frenzy,  only  to  be  set  free  from  its  grasp  when  Mikhail’s  lackeys  yanked  him  off  of  his  shaking  body.  Coughs  sputtered  out,  blood  seeping  from  his  neck.  Even  while  he  was  beaten  to  a  pulp,  laughter  still  spewed  from  Aleksandr’s  cracked  and  bloody  lips,  he  had  won.

This  is  what  he  lived  for,  this  is  what  he  would  die  for.  For  a  moment,  he  thinks  of  when  he  was  walking  amongst  his  comrades,  how  he  had  killed  beside  them,  he  missed  it,  but  not  what  they  were  fighting  for.  The  fight  was  finally  broken  up,  guards  pulling  and  prying  the  prisoners  off  of  Aleksandr.  He  was  off  to  solitary,  nothing  new  for  him.  He  is  jerked  off  the  concrete  floor,  one  guard  taking  his  right  arm  while  the  other  took  his  left.  He  submits  to  them,  it  won’t  last  long  but  he  allows  himself  to  slip  into  that  space,  he  needs  to  rest.  Once  more  he  looks  for  the  military  man  in  the  gallery,  Aleksandr  gawks  at  him,  a  sly  smile  on  his  features,  the  man’s  gaze  is  cold,  but  he  knows  what  has  to  be  done.  Under  Aleksandr’s  watch,  the  man  exits  the  gallery.

Aleksandr’s  calm  demeanor  is  quickly  replaced  by  confusion  once  he  realizes  that  he  is  not  being  led  to  solitary.  Head  spins  around,  sweat  filled  strands  of  hair  sticking  to  his  forehead  as  he  is  brought  to  another  room.  But  the  boy  does  not  panic  as  he  is  thrown  into  a  metal  chair  and  his  wrists  are  cuffed  and  bound  to  the  table.  Before  him  sits  the  military  man  from  the  gallery.  As  his  eyes  adjust  to  the  dim  lighting  of  the  room  Aleksandr  soaks  up  every  detail  of  the  man.  Late  forties,  maybe  even  early  fifties.  Wrinkles  dotted  his  brow  line,  his  eyes  sunken  in,  he’s  seen  things.  Then  he  notices  the  patches  on  his  uniform,  he’s  with  Konni.  Aleksandr’s  interest  has  increased.  The  silence  fills  the  room,  but  there’s  tension  present.  Their  eyes  locked  together,  neither  of  them  daring  to  blink.  So  Aleksandr  steps  up  and  breaks  the  silence.  ❝  Who  the  fuck  are  you  supposed  to  be?  ❞   The  man  before  him  let’s  out  a  snort,  clearly  taken  a  back  by  the  boy’s  boldness,  but  at  the  same  time  he  wasn’t,  it  was  expected,  after  all  he  just  watched  him  kill  a  man.  ❝ Gorbachev,  Oleg.  ❞  How  fancy,  introducing  himself  with  his  last  name  first.  

❝  How  much  did  I  cost?  ❞  Aleksandr  asked,  straight  to  the  point.  He  had  a  general  idea  of  what  was  going  on,  why  else  would  Oleg  be  here?  Impatiently,  he  waits  for  an  answer,  yet  he  had  hoped  he  was  worth  a  large  sum,  something  to  stroke  his  ego.  A  rough  chuckle  comes  from  Oleg  as  he  digs  into  his  chest  pocket  for  something,  a  pack  of  cigarettes  and  a  zippo  lighter.  He  brings  one  to  his  lips,  motioning  the  pack  in  front  of  Aleksandr’s  face,  a  silent  offer  for  one.  The  boy  nods  yes  and  leans  forward  as  Oleg  places  one  into  his  teeth,  lighting  it  for  him  then  lights  his  own.  Smoke  exits  Aleksandr’s  nose,  growing  more  testy  the  longer  he  waits  for  Oleg  to  answer.  ❝  That  is  something  I’ll  keep  to  myself  for  now…  ❞  He  states,  his  voice  gruff.  Oleg  takes  a  drag  before  ashing  it  onto  the  floor.  ❝  But  if  you  prove  to  be  not  worth  what  I  paid,  well,  you’ll  be  taken  care  of  accordingly.  ❞

❝  Is  that  a  threat  or  a  promise?  ❞

❝  A  promise.  ❞

A  glint  of  amusement  appears  in  Aleksandr’s  eyes,  how  quick  his  life  was  taking  a  turn.  His  right  eyebrow  raises,  a  sign  of  interest  and  curiosity.  ❝  And  what  did  you  buy  me  out  for?  Into  pale  young  boys?  I’ll  say  I’m  flattered  but  I’m  not  really  into  men.  Maybe  if  you  put  a  wig  on.  ❞  A  snort  filled  with  levity  emits  from  him  as  Oleg  stares  him  down.  ❝  Your  file  never  mentioned  that  you’re  a  comedian.  ❞  In  other  circumstances  Oleg  might’ve  laughed  at  his  comment,  but  he  didn’t  find  it  appropriate  at  the  moment.  ❝  No.  I’ve  been  tasked  with  finding  suitable  men  to  shape  into  the  perfect  soldier,  by  any  means  necessary.  And  I  must  say,  your  file  intrigued  me  and  that  performance  of  yours  in  the  pod.  ❞  Was  it  really  a  performance?  ❝  Are  you  going  to  give  me  the  opportunity  for  an  encore?  ❞  Aleksandr’s  voice  rings  through  his  throat,  a  bit  of  playfulness  in  his  tone.  ❝  That’s  what  I’m  hoping.  ❞  

He’ll  get  to  go  back  to  what  he  loves  doing,  he’s  been  given  a  second  chance.  Aleksandr’s  heart  beats  in  his  chest,  faster  than  horses  on  a  track,  his  thoughts  going  a  mile  a  minute.  Already  playing  out  many  scenarios,  almost  like  a  movie  without  an  ending.  A  smile  is  threatening  to  form  on  his  face as he begins to speak, ❝  And  who’s  my  new  commander,  Oleg?  ❞ 

❝  Vladimir  Makarov.  ❞ 

Three  cheers  to  new  beginnings.

[bearstruck]

updated my pinned, gonna go hop onto König and do the same

[bearstruck]

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗’ 𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚝, 𝚜𝚎𝚎, 𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚛𝚒𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚜, 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚞𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚊𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎. 𝙾𝚑, 𝚊 𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗’ 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜, 𝚋𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚢, 𝙸 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝. 𝙰 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝚊𝚠𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚝 —𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚜— 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚙 𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖. 𝚂𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚎.

#𝙱𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚂𝚃𝚁𝚄𝙲𝙺 𝚊𝚗 𝙸𝙽𝙳𝙴𝙿𝙴𝙽𝙳𝙴𝙽𝚃 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚂𝙴𝙼𝙸-𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙴 𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝙾𝙵 𝙳𝚄𝚃𝚈 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎. 𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝙰𝚞𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟹 𝚋𝚢 𝙹𝚆𝙾𝚆𝚆, 𝟸𝟻, ( 𝚜𝚑𝚎 / 𝚑𝚎𝚛 )

𝙴𝚇𝙿𝙻𝙾𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙼𝙴𝚂 𝚂𝚄𝙲𝙷 𝙰𝚂: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐'𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚕, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚙, 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚜𝚝, 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚏𝚒𝚡, 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚖.

google doc.

[bearstruck]

Aleksandr sees the Geneva Convention as a check list.

[bearstruck]

I can't download what I need to edit up voice clips for Alek, so here's a link to a video of his voice claim.

[bearstruck]

assorted   lyrics      ♡      sentence   starters.             ╰   *   SONGS   THAT   INSPIRED   MY   OC ,   part   one.

“ i  feel  your  presence  but  it’s  out  of  reach. ”

“ am  i  awake  or  is  this  a  dream? ”

“ in  another  life  i  would’ve  built  up  my  walls  around  you. ”

“ i  can’t  tell  what  is  make  believe. ”

“ i’ve  tried  pretending  you’re  what  i  need. ”

“ nobody  knows  what  i’ve  been  through. ”

“ you  destroyed  everything. ”

“ did  i  mean  anything  at  all  to  you? ”

“ do  you  think  about  us  every  now  and  then? ”

“ there  were  too  many  lies  for  me  to  memorize ,  and  i  never  make  the  same  mistake  twice. ”

“ i  bet  the  truth  weighs  heavily  on  you. ”

“ i’m  not  afraid  of  you. ”

“ all  i  see  is  red  with  everything  you  said. ”

“ you  know  you’re  the  source  of  my  self–doubt. ”

“ i’m  broken. ”

“ let  me  be. ”

“ do  you  know  what  it  feels  like  to  drown? ”

“ i  don’t  wanna  talk  about  it ,  just  let  it  go. ”

“ the  devil  inside  of  me …  he’s  taking  on  control. ”

“ i’m  fine. ”

“ can  we  just  forget  about  it? ”

“ there’s  no  way  you’re  saving  me. ”

“ i’m  better  off  alone. ”

“ i  swear  you  wanna  watch  me  drown. ”

“ it  doesn’t  have  to  be  this  way. ”

“ i’m  tired  of  the  shit  you  say. ”

[bearstruck]

Also forgot to mention the three scars on Alek’s right eye are from a fight he got into with a guy who’s nicknamed Bear due to his size. Alek won the fight which no one expected, also hence the username bearstruck

[bearstruck]

Gonna adjust some stuff in Alek’s background later on and with me being me it’s probably gonna change again once MW3 drops