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efingart · 9 days
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Clearly, I need a tumblr break. It's stupid to announce it, but it'll keep me accountable.
See ya.
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efingart · 9 days
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Soon enough.
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efingart · 9 days
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Soon enough.
Demon boyfriend au over on Patreon. Come join us. Slightly spicy under the cut
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efingart · 9 days
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Creative work comes to social media to die.
Corpses quickly churned through a machine, even bones ground into dust. Left without comment. Left with nothing. Just dust.
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efingart · 12 days
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A little sneak peek of paintings I did of the sogdads for the ahem SPICY edition of the @codfanzine
It was so much fun to work on and I really love how these turned out.
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efingart · 13 days
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HA! Price was the winner for both polls. Ok give the people what they WANT.
Y'all really liked that Price drawing. Just WAIT until you see what I do with it.
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We're voting again! Which one do you want to see fully painted and uh *ahem* spicy? And yes I already got to painting some of these, I'm actually trying a new technique and got excited to try it out. 😂
Anyway, if you are 18+ and have ever considered joining my Patreon and are able to, now would be an awesome time (you'd also really be helping me out💙). There's so much good sexy art and comics up there already and there's more to come! Link in my pinned post.
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efingart · 13 days
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I miiiiiight be a bit of an instigator. 😂 And now I'm waiting patiently for it.
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So. Uh. @efingart may have nudged me into adding Frank to the shifter au...
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efingart · 13 days
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YOU BINGED JWIN IN ONE DAY?!
ABSOLUTE LEGEND!!!! OMG I HAVE NO WORDS.
💙💙💙 Thank you so much, Jen it means so much to me
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And I am working on Chapter 26 as we speak
Just What I Needed - Chapter 25
ao3 | tumblr: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two| Twenty-Three |Twenty-Four|
Word Count: 5043
Frank Woods x CoD Bell
Frank and Mila go on something that looks a lot like a date, but it isn't a date.
The plastic groaned in protest as Mila pressed the speaker closer to her ear. The record store fell away as the synth beat took hold of her.  It was unlike any music she had ever heard. She could become lost in it. She was used to holding in her feelings, not giving away much that was on her mind. But the sound inexplicably made her want to move.
But how would anyone dance to this?
Mila’s eyes flicked up to the woman behind the counter. She was the one who had set up the tape player for her to listen. The counter was much higher than the floor, likely so she could quickly spot if anyone was pocketing one of the tiny cassette tapes. But for the most part, the woman looked bored. She flipped through some kind of booklet. Like a magazine, but there was a homemade quality to it—splotched black ink across its neon paper cover. The title hand written in black permanent marker. The woman tossed her head to get her pink-streaked bangs out of her eyes before ducking her head back down to read. The pink-streaked bangs fell back into her face.
Mila felt tension on one side of the headphones, drawing her gaze away from the woman. Frank tugged on one of the speakers, pulling it away and leaning into her, turning the speaker towards his own ear to listen.
“You like this?” He asked. His voice was loud as he tried to talk over the music thrumming in his ear. He listened for another moment before turning the speaker back around.
She pulled the headphones off and let them dangle from her neck.
“Yeah. You said I should pick something happier. Can’t get happier than that.”
Frank’s eyes traveled over her face, then he shrugged and turned to the woman behind the counter.
“This one, too,” He said. She didn’t respond, not even a nod. Still, she popped the tape out of the player, putting it back in its jewel case and adding it to the stack of music Mila had already accumulated.
“Anything else?” Frank asked Mila.
She shook her head and neatly placed the headphones on top of the tape player, then pushed the player towards the woman.
He dug into his back pocket for his wallet. Then, he shifted his attention to something behind the woman.
“One of those, too,” He said, pointing to a box on the wall behind her. In her bored way, she turned to the wall, picked up the box, and held it up to verify that it was what he wanted. He gave her a nod, and she began to ring up the items.
“Come with batteries?” He asked her as he studied the box. She shook her head. He sighed. “Course not.”
Mila watched this exchange with some curiosity. She couldn’t quite read the box, and the product name wasn’t giving anything away—something to do with walking. Frank counted out the bills and change, and the woman bagged their purchases.
“All right, come on,” He said, throwing an arm over her shoulder as he guided her out of the store. “Gotta make another stop.”
He pointed to a camera store across the street. In the wide front window, there was a large cardboard display. As they approached, Mila realized it resembled a camera. But not like one she had ever seen. There was a lens and a viewfinder, but the camera's base was long and flat. The design of it was so clunky she couldn’t understand why anyone would want to carry it around. Someone had cut a large slit across the base, and a flat sheet of cardboard with a photograph on it repeatedly slid in and out of the base.
Maybe it was advertising a new kind of development process?
But as she scanned the display she saw that the large camera was surrounded by boxes of the real thing.
She turned to ask Frank about them when she heard a click and a whirring sound. A man was standing in the shop doorway, one of the strange cameras in his hand.
“Just got the brand new model in today. Come in and take a look.”
Having a business owner so invested in speaking to them was odd. But the camera shop likely got its fair share of tourists, which may have motivated him to be friendlier. He handed her the paper that had come out of the camera.
She stared at it and turned it over—blank white on one side and black on the other. However, something was happening on the front of the paper. A splotch of brownish yellow was slowly developing.
“You’ve never seen an instant film camera before?”
She shook her head and tried to hand the paper back to the man, but he waved her off. “It’s yours, keep it.”
Frank interrupted their exchange and asked the man, “You got any batteries?”
The man led him into the small store. Mila stayed outside, watching the display continue its methodical movements.
After a moment, Frank stepped out again and dropped a pack of batteries into the paper bag.
“How’d it turn out?” He asked her, nodding towards the paper in her hand.
She looked down, and to her surprise, she was now holding a photo of her and Frank looking at the display.
“What-”
“Instant film, don’t ask me how it works. Em’s got one of those. She’s constantly taking pictures,” He said, shaking his head. “I’ve gotta have about a hundred of me holding David for the first time. I’ll show you.”
“Instant film,” She repeated and looked longingly at the display. She’d love to have a camera like that. She had enjoyed taking and developing pictures for the various missions the CIA had sent her on. And with her memory, it would be nice to have some kind of physical evidence of her life besides that old photo Frank had found. Feeling Frank’s eyes on her, she blinked and turned away from the display. The nice thing about Frank is that he never asked too many questions. He seemed to know that if she wanted to talk, she’d talk. He plucked the picture from her hands and tucked it into his front shirt pocket, giving the pocket a little pat.
“For safekeeping,” He said. Then he threw his arm back in a wave, gesturing her to keep it moving. “Come on, I’m hungry.”
“Burger Town?” She joked.
“You know I’ll never say no to that. One of these days, we gotta take you somewhere nice, I guess.”
“Not today,” She said.
He chuckled, “Not today.”
They sat at one of the outdoor tables in the sun. She couldn’t remember the last time she spent so much time in the sun. The bag of food was between them, and she watched him reach into it to pull out a burger. His knuckles were turning red, and a smattering of freckles had appeared on his hands. She hadn’t realized he freckled in the sun, but it made sense with his complexion. It gave her a warm feeling just to know something more about him. Something that wasn’t related to his job or military life.
Frank Woods freckles in the sun.
She cataloged the information away in her mind.
Mila reached into the bag for her burger and placed it on the table before her. Then she carefully peeled the wrapper away, smoothing it out on the table and creating a placemat for herself. She thought she heard Frank let out a soft chuckle, but when she glanced up, his soft gaze was focused behind her as he chewed his burger. Mila picked up her burger and was about to eat when a thought occurred to her.
“What’s that thing you bought? That needed batteries?” She asked, nodding towards the paper bag set next to him on the bench.
He held up a finger and reached for his drink as he chewed. Grasping the drink by the lid, two fingers on either side of the straw, he took a long sip.  Then, he set his burger and the drink down and wiped his hands off in his jeans before he opened the bag.
“I figured if you’re gonna have your own music, maybe you don’t want to be tied to the stereo in the living room,” He said. Then, while looking at her pointedly, he added, “You can use the stereo in the living room anytime you want, though.”
When he said that, her eyes moved from the bag next to him to his face. Frank seemed to notice everything. Or maybe he had recognized one of his own habits in her. He knew she was trying to leave the smallest footprint in their apartment. A strategy she employed in the hopes that if he never felt like she was in the way, then her place there was safe. She shifted in her seat, somewhat uncomfortable with the feeling of being so seen by someone else. There was something else, too: comfort.
She ignored it and instead turned her focus back to Frank, who was moving his burger aside so he could place the box in front of him. He pulled out a pocket knife to break open the thick tape, holding the box shut. Then he opened the flap and grabbed hold of what was inside while tipping the box so that gravity would help him ease its contents out.
Inside was a smaller black box surrounded by styrofoam packaging and a small pair of black over-ear headphones. Frank flipped the styrofoam over onto his hand. He tossed the packaging back in the paper bag and dusted off the smaller black box. She could see it was made of heavy plastic. There were buttons on the top. Frank reached back into the paper bag, feeling around momentarily, before producing the pack of batteries. He popped off a panel in the back and put in four batteries. Then he took out one of the cassette tapes, popped its case open, and slipped it into a slot in the front of the box.
He plugged the headphones into the box and handed them to her.
“You can listen anywhere now.”
She put the headphones on. The sound wasn’t as good as in the record store or at the apartment, but it was nice to be able to listen anywhere. She noted he had put in the tape he recommended, Pat Benatar.
You’ll like this one, he had said at the store.
And he was right. She took a bite of her hamburger as she listened. She knew she could definitely enjoy listening while in her room at night. And maybe even between sessions.
“Like it?”
She nodded.
“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”
He waved his hand, dismissing her comment.
“You might as well have some music wherever you want it.”
He stopped the tape.
“Thing drains batteries, though, I’ve got more for you, but just know that.”
She nodded again and removed the headphones. Frank gathered everything up and placed it in the bag.
“So what’s next?”
“I have an idea or two.”
Mila tilted her head curiously at him, but he didn’t elaborate.
Frank seemed to have his destination in mind, but occasionally, he would take them one way and have to backtrack. Then, he’d check the street name and head in the opposite direction. The place he was looking for must have been tucked away. Mila didn’t mind so much. It was good to be out and walking in the city. It had been some time since she had just walked around without purpose or hurry. She glanced around at the other people around them. This is what they did. She had yet to conjure up something more mundane from her adult or teenage years. Always running and fighting. Not being able to show her face in her home country meant long strolls in the park were risky. She had vague memories of spending time in what looked like East Berlin. But had the sense she was still traveling by night, working.
“There,” Frank said in a low voice.
He led her down a narrow side street. On the corner was a small building. Garage-style doors had been installed on either side and now, on this pretty day, they were flung up. She could clearly see the entire establishment from front to back.
She stopped.
“It looks like-”
“Yeah,” Frank said. Then he shrugged. “I kinda got the feeling you wanted to look around that place. And I know you like computers.”
He scratched the back of his head, suddenly seeming uncomfortable.
“Well, these are kind of like computers,” He added.
She nodded, and they walked into the arcade. Inside, the sounds, which were tinny and muted on the street, completely filled the space. The room itself was kept dim, lit by the sunlight outside and the glow of the screen on each machine. Every cabinet was painted with brightly colored characters. As she looked at the displays, she realized that these were what the players were supposed to imagine the tiny pixelated characters to be. Again, it was like nothing she had ever experienced before.
Being in the arcade brought back memories of the fake American town, and she wondered if small towns in America really did look like that. Many small towns in the movies she watched looked similar as well. The cinema, Burger Town, and arcade all together around a tiny town square. She knew it would be unlikely she’d ever get to see a place like that. Unlikely, she’d ever leave West Berlin, unless they were shipping her off to some prison to lock her away forever.
Mila pushed the thoughts from her mind and approached a free cabinet. She watched the looping demo of what must have been a car racing along a track that never seemed to end. Several cars whizzed by the player's car until one crashed into it. A computerized grinding sound filled her ears. The screen went black.
“You ever play one of these?” Mila asked Frank.
He shook his head.
“Heard it rots your brain or something,” He joked. “Come on, let’s go get some tokens.”
As they waited in line, he pointed to a game that involved a sloped wooden track with numbered holes at the top.
“Now that’s more my speed. Skee-ball.” When he was met with her blank stare, he clarified, “It’s like bowling. You do know bowling, right?”
She shook her head.
“I’ll show ya.”
Then he turned his attention to the man behind the counter. Frank handed over a few bills to exchange for tokens.
He was spending so much money on her today. She felt uncomfortable unable to contribute. Of course, no one would give her money, nothing that she could potentially use to escape.
Not that she had anywhere to go. Beyond the walled city was a dangerous place for her. Outside the city was Soviet-controlled Germany. Even if she attempted to leave through the subway tunnels as she and Adler once had, she was an enemy of the state. Sure, they had thought she was dead, but likely that had been proven wrong when her face showed up all over the KGB cameras as soon as someone had reviewed the footage. And hey, why is a dead woman working with Russell Adler anyway?
If caught, the KGB would make sure she was dead this time, but not after grilling her for all the information she had about the CIA. Or if Perseus got hold of her again. The blonde- Ivanova went to great lengths to ensure she could hold her and torture her freely. She was sure the entire organization wanted her head for what she did in Solovestky.
“Hey,” Frank nudged her. The collection of dull coins jingled as he moved them from one hand to the other. “So, what do you want to play?”
She walked around studying each machine. The arcade wasn’t busy, so she could get a good look at the games.
One in particular caught her eye. It was one she recognized from the fake America town.
She approached the cabinet and watched the preview play before her of a small character dressed in green jumping over black blocks on the ground. She realized that the blocks were meant to be open spaces through which the player could fall. After watching the demo play, Frank handed her a coin, and she started up the game. He tucked his hand in his jeans pocket and deposited the remaining tokens.
“Got plenty of ‘em, so you can try all of the machines if you want,” He said, patting his pocket, causing the coins to jingle again.
She smiled at him and then directed her focus back to the machine. She bent down to deposit the token, and the music on the cabinet changed.
Frank leaned an arm over the cabinet and watched her play. It took her a moment to learn the controls. Her character died a few times, but it was easy to identify the gameplay patterns after that.
“Hey, you’re not bad at this,” Frank said.
She shrugged.
Then she made a silly mistake, and the timer ran out on the game. She managed to convince Frank to play a round himself. They spent much of the afternoon at the arcade. Occasionally, they’d find a game they could play together.  Boxing was entertaining because Frank would tell her about his brief experience as an amateur boxer as a teenager. Though with some of the stories, he’d end up distracting himself enough in the retelling that she could get several punches in at once.
After losing another round of boxing, Frank yawned and checked his watch.
“Getting late, we should head out. I wanted to get some things at the grocery store anyway,” Frank said. Then added, “Someone keeps complaining we don’t have any good food.”
“We don’t!” She said, following him out the door. He stopped short at a cabinet where a group of kids were gathered and rooted through his pockets for the remaining tokens. Then he dumped them into the hands of a girl standing on the outskirts of the group.
It was dark when they returned to the apartment, each holding one grocery bag.
She placed her bag on the counter and unpacked it, putting pantry items away as Frank stocked the fridge.
“Should I make us something?” She asked.
“Nah, I got an idea for us,” He said but didn’t elaborate. Mila wasn’t sure what to make of the smile that slowly crept across his face either.
“You, cooking?” She teased him.
“Hey, I can cook some things,” He said, feigning offense.
Mila chuckled. She wasn’t about to insult him if he was willing to make dinner for them. And she was a bit curious about what Frank would cook up. She leaned against the counter to watch him work.
“Let me know if you need me to do anything.”
“I got it. You gotta be tired after today anyway.”
He was right; she was exhausted, and she yawned as if on cue. She stretched her arms over her head and let out another long yawn. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the message indicator on the answering machine was lit.
“Oh hey, Frank, you’ve got a message,” She said.
“Hit play for me, will ya?”
She depressed the button, and the tape on the machine whirred to life.
“Woods-”
Mila recognized the voice immediately.
“Is that Sims?”
“Shh-” Frank hushed her.
“- in town, and I’ve got some ideas for you. Well, for Bell. Come by tomorrow.”
The tape stopped, and the machine beeped. Frank continued his work without explanation. He had pulled out a fat tomato and was in the process of cutting it into slices. Mila watched him, waiting to see if he would elaborate.
When he didn’t, she asked him, “What was that about?”
Frank’s back straightened, and he cleared his throat before answering.
“Sims-” He paused, “He’s gonna help us.”
She bit the inside of her lip to keep herself from interrupting. She could tell Frank had more to say, but why was he taking so long to say it? He placed the knife on the cutting board but kept his other hand around the tomato as he turned his head to look at her.
“I’m not letting them drug you anymore, Mila,” He said firmly.
She hadn’t been expecting that.  In fact, she wasn’t sure she understood him clearly.
“What? What do you mean?”
“I told them. All of them. They need to figure something else out.”
Frank turned back to the tomato and finished slicing. He moved the slices to a plate.
“All of them,” She repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Park, Hudson, and Adler. All of them,” He said as he opened the fridge and pulled out a pack of bacon wrapped in butcher paper. He placed it on the counter. Frank then sprinkled some water on the pan, and it sizzled.
“Nice and hot,” He said quietly.
It was surreal watching him work. The conversation and the actions were incongruent. Frank was just making her dinner and casually telling her her entire life was about to change. That he- Frank Woods- of all people had made a decision about her life without talking to her about it.
This couldn’t be happening. Frank couldn’t do this to her.
Mila rubbed her forehead.
“Is that why you-” She stopped. She didn’t want to think that Frank took her out today to soften the blow of what would happen tomorrow. Mila ripped her hand away from her forehead and slammed her fist on the countertop.
Frank had just been about to place a slice of bacon in the pan, but he stopped and stared at her.
“Frank, if they’re not drugging me-” Mila started. She shook her head. The kitchen was a blur. She couldn’t make eye contact with him. She didn’t want to face the reality of it.
“If I’m not useful to them-” She tried again.
No, no, don’t say it.
“We almost lost you-” Frank said, his voice surprisingly calm.
“Frank!” She interrupted, “This is my life. And you’re what, just making decisions for me?”
“What do you want me to do?” He said. He tossed the bacon back on the butcher paper. It made a wet slapping sound when it hit the paper.
“You were gone. You didn’t see you. Lost in your head. It’s the fucking drugs, Mila. You want me just to step aside and let them do that to you?”
“I told you that’s what I was good for,” She said.
“So you think you deserve this?”
She said nothing to him then. The answer was obvious to both of them. He stepped towards the sink and washed his hands. As he dried them, he turned back toward her.
“Sometimes I think you’d rather lose your mind,” Frank said sadly. He tossed the towel on the counter before reaching out for her, but she slapped his hand away.
“Mila-”
“Controlling my life. Just like Adler.”
“Hey!” He raised his voice then.
It wasn’t fair. She knew she wasn’t being fair. Frank wasn’t Adler. But the roaring in her head wouldn’t stop. She stepped away from him and swung around, heading to her room.
She didn’t want to see him. Didn’t want to hear his reasoning. He was probably right, but the prospect of it not working, of her being imprisoned forever. She’d rather be dead. Because it would be forever. Held in solitary confinement with no hope of ever leaving.
She changed into her t-shirt, leaving her day clothes on the floor.
On her bed was the bag from the music store. Frank must have put it in here for her. She placed her headphones over her ears and popped a tape in. Somber music did its best to drown out the sounds of Frank cooking in the kitchen.
And eventually, she fell asleep.
She had a dream of meeting a man in a bar. He was a stranger to her, but they sat and talked as if they were old friends. After exchanging pleasantries, she leaned closer to him.
“Please. Frank Woods. It must be him.”
“Why?”
“Because I believe he is a good man. I believe he will understand.”
Mila woke up hungry. She was no stranger to the feeling, but somehow, paradoxically, it was harder to ignore now that she was getting food regularly. Easier to let the feeling fade into the background and have sleep for dinner when there was never any dinner or breakfast to look forward to.
The bedside clock told her it was the middle of the night, and she wondered if Frank would still be awake. Her anger had died almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. She felt guilty for blowing up on him and knew she needed to apologize. And that he’d probably chew her out for it. Frank wasn’t manipulative. He wasn’t trying to control her. He’d likely be more angry that she’d even suggest that than anything else. But first, she needed to eat something.
Swinging her feet around, she carefully got up from the bed. She avoided a particularly creaky floorboard and made her way to the door. She placed her ear against it and listened, but with the exception of the usual sounds of the building, it was quiet.
Even still, she opened the door as quietly as she could. If Frank was in his room snoring away, he would never hear her, but she couldn’t be too careful. Mila made her way to the kitchen. She could assemble a sandwich quickly and bring it back to her room. Though she hated eating in her room. It made her feel like she was in a prison cell. She opened the fridge, and there on the top shelf was a plate with a sandwich wrapped in waxed paper.
Frank had made dinner for her after all. Of course, he had. She picked up the chilled plate and turned to bring it to her room. But that’s when Frank emerged from the bathroom. A fleck of toothpaste dotted his beard. They caught each other’s gaze before he walked past her and through the kitchen. He was just on the threshold of the living room when he stopped. He raised his arm and leaned against the doorframe.
“Should have talked to you about it, but I wanted you to have a couple of good days before we had to figure things out,” He said. His hand formed into a fist, which he tapped against the frame before turning around.
The guilt crept in again. He had just been thinking about her again. His insistence on her rehabilitation had changed his living situation, his job, and his life. How much time did he spend thinking about her?
Mila set the sandwich down on the counter and stepped toward him.
“I’m sorry, Frank,” She said. It felt weak. After everything.
To her surprise, he nodded. He leaned against the counter and folded his arms across his bare chest.
“Yeah, me too,” He said.
She waited, she didn’t have much to say, everything that came to mind just sounded like an excuse to her.
“I’m not like him,” Frank said.
“I know, Frank,” She said.
“I’m not trying to control your life. Not interested in that,” He said.
He took in a deep breath. She shifted her weight on her feet. It seemed like he had more to say.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” She said when he said nothing.
He gave her a sidelong glance, and then a characteristic smirk appeared at the corner of his mouth. He threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him.
“I’ve had worse,” He said with a chuckle. Frank reached over with his other arm and grabbed her plate. For a brief moment, she found herself enveloped in his arms. Face pressed against his chest. The scent of his cologne and the toothpaste filled the air around her. And he was warm, as always.
“Come on,” He said and guided her towards the couch. “No reason to eat alone. Unless you want to?”
She shook her head. They both took a seat on the couch.
“Thanks for the sandwich,” She said as she did. She sat down somewhat close to him, bending her legs and letting her feet dangle off the couch. She balanced the plate on her thigh and unwrapped the sandwich. Then she took a bite.
“Want some?” She offered to him. He shook his head. She covered her mouth with her hand and nodded, “It’s really good.”
“I thought so. Better warm, though.”
She wolfed down half the sandwich. In part because she was very hungry, but also to avoid conversation. However, when she finished, instead of picking up the second half, she said, “I’m sorry, Frank.”
“You said that already.”
He reached out and put his hand on the back of her neck, pulling her into him. He had to grab the sandwich plate before it slipped onto the couch, and he set it next to him on the armrest.
From behind her, he pulled down a blanket and draped it over her. She felt a strong desire to tell him everything that was going on in her head. Her worries, her fears, and even her hopes, however small, for her future. Mila looked up at Frank. Her eyes traveled over his face, the way the hairs of his beard curved to the contour of his jawline. The deep wrinkles that lead up to his eyes, his eyes, bright blue, so much hidden behind them.
Frank thought about her enough. She didn’t need to dump her feelings on him.
He must have sensed her watching him because he glanced down. He made a soft questioning noise to match the look on his face.
Mila rose up, allowing the blanket to fall from her shoulders, and pressed a hand to Frank’s chest before kissing him.
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efingart · 14 days
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omg you're reading it!! I'm so excited. And thank you, I was hoping people would like the dramatic time shift at the end there 💙
Just What I Needed - Chapter 1
ao3 link
Bell reflects on the few memories she has.
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Author's note:
2/6/24 Reviewed, updated, and edited this chapter
This started as a comic. I wanted to see Bell and the Safehouse Crew interacting outside of the missions. Then it grew into a larger story and became too big of an investment as a comic. But the story is stuck in my head now and I have to let it out. So I'm just going to write it.
This first Chapter is a retread of the comic, but there is new stuff extra characterizations etc. Next chapter will be mostly new.
I know some of you were on my taglist for the comic, but since I've changed it to a fic just lmk if you'd like to be tagged still. No hard feelings if not. (I do plan on having illustrations in the future chapters as well)
Chapter 1
March 1, 1981
The paper in her hands, once filled with numbers and cryptic symbols, was quickly becoming a watery swirl of red and blue. Bell blinked a few times to clear and refocus her eyes. She looked down again and the page had returned to normal. How long had she been staring at this thing? Just a moment ago she had risen from the worktable to pin it back up on the evidence board and move on to something else. But as she stood she felt compelled to look at it again, feeling the spark of inspiration. But as soon as she tried to zero in on the thought and make sense of the jumble of letters and numbers, when the solution nearly seemed to lift off the paper, it would almost immediately slip from her mind. And this time was no different. So she stared at the paper in vain again, combing the depths of her mind for that lost something. And her head was pounding, which was not doing her any good. It was like her own brain was fighting against her solving this puzzle. She rubbed at her temples and considered taking out her ponytail. Deluding herself into thinking that maybe that was the cause of the pain and not the fact that she worked almost around the clock.
Of course this would happen when she was needed most.
Just behind her, Sims dropped a cardboard box onto the work table.
“Any luck with that disk decryption?” Sims asked. She looked over her shoulder at him. He had begun sorting through the box which looked to be filled with electronic junk. A cigarette dangled from his lips. She wondered if he cared about ash getting into the box.
“No,” Bell admitted, “I feel like I’m missing something.” Frustrated with herself she rubbed her forehead again and looked up at the evidence board hoping that maybe this time it would reveal it’s secrets. Instead a bright light flashed across her face. The sunlight beaming through the skylight above hit a metal object pinned to the board. She plucked the offending object off it’s peg and turned it over in her hand. It looked like a keyring with a deranged apron-clad figurine attached.
“What is that?” Bell muttered to herself, perplexed as to why anyone would want to carry around such a manic looking thing. Though it did seem strangely familiar to her.
“Find something?” Sims asked as he walked around the table to join her at the evidence board.
“Uh-” Bell paused. She hadn’t intended to pose the question to him and she felt a little silly showing him the keychain since it wasn’t related to her work, but she was still curious about it.
“No, but what is this?” Sims took a drag and looked it over.
“Looks like a keychain, Bell.” Bell looked at him pointedly and sighed, “I know-”
“I’m kidding you. Woods picked that up on your last mission.” He chuckled, “And he says Adler’s sentimental.” Bell looked back at the odd figure in her hand and scrunched up her nose.
“Why would he be feeling sentimental about this weird child?”
“You know, we all find ways to deal with the things we’ve seen- the things we’ve done,” Sims said, “And Woods has definitely been through it.” Then he shrugged before adding, “You should ask him- about the keychain, I mean.”
“Yeah.”
Bell glanced down at the keychain again. She thought about putting it back on the evidence board, but instead she closed her hand around it. Sims studied her face. She must have looked as exhausted as she felt because he then said, “Why don’t you take a break? Get some coffee and try tackling it again in a few.”
“Yeah, but-” Bell protested and looked over her shoulder at Adler. He was in his office. His expression very grave. Sims followed her gaze.
“Even he doesn’t work 24/7. Shocking, I know.”
Sims nudged her side encouragingly before going back to his work. Bell pinned the paper on the evidence board, but held on to the keychain.
Why? Because it was Woods’?
She shook the thought from her head as she went to the kitchenette. The coffee pot was empty, as it often was. Just about everyone on the team drank coffee, or tea, round the clock. They had terrorists to hunt, and sleep could wait.
Bell began brewing a fresh pot and leaned against the counter to wait, surveying the Safehouse.
Her eyes landed on Park who sat at a desk nearby listening to recordings- of what Bell was unsure. One hand pressed a headphone speaker to her ear. In her other hand she held a cigarette and a pen, this was poised over an open folder. Occasionally her hand would drop down to jot a note or two in the folder as she listened. Sometimes she would bring her hand to her face to take a drag from the cigarette.
That’s how it was here. A constant chain of cigarettes and cups of caffeine. Not the healthiest lifestyle, but did any of them expect to live long?
Sims was still sorting and cataloging boxes. She could see now that they looked like old radio parts. He had removed his blue MACV-SOG windbreaker and tossed it over a chair. The beaded bracelets on his wrists clacked together as he moved around. And he was humming to himself, though she couldn’t make out the tune.
She couldn’t see Woods, Mason, or Lazar from where she stood, but she could hear them talking in low voices. Or at least as low as any of them talked in casual conversation. Shooting the shit as Woods and Mason were getting ready for their next mission. They were headed straight into Russia. Mount Yamantau. But to hear them talk it was as if it was nothing to them. She knew deep down that they took the job seriously and they maybe the both learned some time ago that a little levity went a long way in this line of work. It would be foolish to mistake their jovial attitudes for a lack of care or professionalism.
Directly across the room from her she could that Adler was still in his office. The door was closed, but the shades were up. He was on the phone, chain-smoking, pacing and generally looking pissed off. His desperation to catch the man who eluded him for so many years was coming to a head.
The coffee pot gurgled loudly through it’s process drawing Bell’s attention to it. Her friend was working his ass off and here she was, taking a break. Letting him down because she couldn’t cut it. She couldn’t figure out some critical puzzle piece. In fact, everyone in this room was waiting on her. The fate of the mission was on her shoulders, and what was she doing? Getting coffee?
She recalled the way Adler had been in Vietnam. Even when things had gotten rough there he was always encouraging. Making the best of things. This was different. He was different.
The faster they caught Perseus, the better it would be.
She’d have her friend again.
Bell shoved her hands in her pockets and debated on whether just to go back to work. She looked down at her boots and kicked the cement floor. Feeling, somewhat unreasonably, disgusted with herself. She heard someone walked up to the coffee pot. The familiar deep gravely voice dragged her from her thoughts.
“Hey, coffee,” Woods said, “Thanks, Bell.”
He reached into the cabinet just next to her and grabbed three mismatched mugs, turning them over and lining them up next to the pot. Woods poured the fresh coffee into the mugs and handed her one.
“You take it black, right?” He asked.
“Yeah,” She said, a little surprised, “Thanks.”
No one really thanked anyone for doing something as mundane as making coffee around here. It was so automatic. She looked at the other two mugs, one for Woods of course, and the other probably for Mason. It was then that she remembered the keychain.
“Hey, Woods?”
She looped the keychain around her middle finger and let it drop so the little figure dangled in the air just below her hand before asking, “What is this?”
“It’s a keych-”
“I know it’s a keychain," Bell said, "But what is it supposed to be? This weird little man-”
“Bubby.”
He narrowed his eyes at her as he took a sip of his coffee.
“Do you seriously not know who Bubby is?”
“Well, I saw the bigger version. The talking one at that restaurant-”
“Burger Town,” Woods said as he gave her a curious look. He tilted his head and moved his arms in a gesture of disbelief.
“Bell, do you not know what Burger Town is?”
By this time Park walked over and was filling the electric kettle with water at the sink.
“Not everyone shares your undying love for American fast food, Woods,” Park said over her shoulder.
Woods tipped his mug at her, “I’m sure you’d never be caught dead inside a Burger Town, Park.”
“Got that right,” She replied as she placed the kettle in its base and turned it on. The kettle clicked and hissed as it heated the water. She then walked back to her desk to jot a few more notes down in her notebook.
“Bell,” Woods said drawing her attention away from the kettle. He had a serious look on his face set down his coffee mug and took a stride towards her. To her surprise he took her wrist in his hand. Shaking his head in disappointment he slipped the keychain off her finger.
“I don’t think I can trust you with this. I’m putting it back.” Woods then looped a finger through the handles of both of mugs and picked them up as well. Bell watched him go. It was only when he had disappeared around the corner did she realize that she was holding her hand, the hand he had just touched, to her chest. She quickly dropped it to her side.
Someone cleared their throat. For such a large man Adler had managed to walk up to her without making much noise. He looked down at her over his sunglasses. His expression was smooth. Everything about him was smooth. She had the distinct impression of a giant cat crouched down, ready to pounce on some unsuspecting animal. Have you ever been attacked by a tiger, Bell?
“Now that you’re done goofing off with Woods, can you get back to work, Bell?” It wasn’t a question. His was voice measured, but his eyes narrowed. Unconsciously, she took a step back. She felt the strange urge to throw her hot coffee in his face. To run. Alarm bells were ringing in her head and somewhere deep down there was another voice telling her-
In a low voice, Adler said, “We have a job to do.” She felt a cold rush hit her. Her body relaxed while her mind snapped to focus. The feeling of anxiety washed away. In front of her stood her old friend. His expression was soft, not angry. He just wanted to find Perseus.
Of course. Bell couldn’t believe for a moment she had thought there was anything sinister about him.
How ridiculous. “Of course, Adler,” She said and picked up her coffee before heading back to work.
Don’t worry, Adler. I’ll figure this out. I know you’re counting on me. Then everything will be like it was.
It was nighttime when Bell left the Safehouse. Pulling her sweater on she stepped out onto the porch and looked out into the dark field the team used for a parking lot. It wasn’t too cold out, even for early March, but Bell wrapped her sweater tightly around her all the same. She found it was constantly falling off her shoulders and she had to wonder why she had bought something so ill-fitting.
But she couldn’t actually remember buying it. Or where she even got it.
As soon as she started thinking about it in any detail the dull ache in her head returned. A clear sign to her that she was just overworked. Of course she had bought it. She just couldn’t recall where at the moment. There were more pressing matters at hand.
Maybe after this mission she would take it easy for a while. Use some vacation time and catch up on sleep.
A soft breeze blew across the lot. The cool air helped to soothe her.
At least she had finally managed to crack the code on the paper tonight. However, she still wasn’t sure how it connected to the rest of the evidence. It felt like even with her best efforts she was only inching forward. And it was only more frustrating when she realized she couldn’t recall the last time she ate. The last time she drank anything that wasn’t coffee. Bell knew she wasn’t taking care of herself the way she should be.
Working on very little sleep, going home, and almost passing out on her bed still fully clothed, smoking the stress away- she wasn’t sure how long she could manage it. But whatever Perseus whatever he was plotting, they needed to get ahead of it, or things were going to get bad. Her health could wait.
Bell lit a cigarette and stepped out into the parking lot. Leaning on Adler’s car, she smoked and enjoyed the peaceful darkness of the night.
The pain in her head was subsiding, though she knew it was only temporary. She needed to eat. Bell placed her cigarette between her lips, freeing her hands. She yanked on her hair tie and pulled out her ponytail. Running her fingers through her hair she shook it out and rubbed at the pressure points along her skull.
“Ugh, my head. Stupid ponytail,” She groaned.
The sound of a lighter clicking drew her attention. She peered into the darkness ahead and saw Woods astride a motorcycle. He was lighting a cigarette and his face was briefly illuminated by the small flame.
“Oh, I didn’t see you there,” Bell said.
“Yeah,” Woods said and shrugged, “You looked like you needed a minute to yourself. Didn’t want to bug you.
Then he added. “You get enough from Adler anyway.”
She opened her mouth to say something in Adler’s defense, but stopped. Instead she walked over to Woods, curious about the motorcycle. She hadn’t seen it in the parking lot before. But then again Woods had been in Kiev up until yesterday.
“Cool motorcycle.”
“Thanks,” He said flashing her a grin, “I’m borrowing it from a friend.”
A moment of silence settled over them. Bell would have liked to talk to him, but she didn’t really have anything to say beyond their work. And she wasn’t interested in talking about that.
Woods was looking out at the road just ahead. He seemed like he was thinking something over and he took a long drag from his cigarette.
“So, Bell,” He started, “I can’t quite let go of the fact that you’ve never had Burger Town before.”
It definitely was not what she would have expected him to say.
“You-“ She paused before repeating him, “can’t let that go?”
He looked her over like he was assessing her. Sizing her up. Like he didn’t know what to make of her.
“No,” He finally said, “Doesn’t sit right with me. Everyone needs to understand the joys of greasy fast food.”
A wide grin spread across his face. Bell wasn’t sure if he was serious.
“Sounds appealing,” She said with a flat voice. With the way she felt, junk food wouldn’t have been her first choice.
“Look, it’s a nice night, and I was going for a ride anyway,” Woods said as he gestured ahead.
“Do you want to come?” He asked.
Bell considered it. She hadn’t been looking forward to going home and making dinner. Not with the way she was feeling. This would be easy and a nice change of pace.
And if she was being honest, spending some time with Woods away from everyone else, sounded pretty good.
At the same time she felt the pull of her work. Something was telling her to head back inside. She had the uncanny feeling that if she did turn around Adler would be in the window watching for her. That disapproving look on his face.
There she was goofing off with Woods again.
Adler’s voice sounded in her head like a radio playing in the back of her mind.
Get back to work, Bell We have terrorists to catch. We’ve got a jo-
She shook his voice from her mind.
“It’s that important to you?”
“I wouldn’t say it’s important.”
“Well, if it’s not important,” Bell said with a shrug.
Woods sighed and picked up his bike helmet holding it out to her. She took it in her hands. Her image, or rather a shadow of her as it was too dark to pick up much detail, reflected in the surface.
It’s how she felt. A shadow of herself. Working herself so hard she was barely even sure she was alive.
“Come on, Bell. Live a little.”
The static in her head had quieted at the sound of his voice. It was like he knew the right words to say. It was a little curious to her why Woods was pushing. No one else seemed concerned or interested about what she did as long as she was working.
Was he really just this passionate about his favorite fast joint? Or maybe this was just his way of getting to know a new teammate. Couldn’t hurt to go especially since they would be continuing to work together.
“Fuck it.” She said softly. Bell took the helmet from him and hopped on the bike.
“All right, hold on,” Woods said.
And before she could do anything, he grabbed her hands and placed them around him.
“I’m not scraping you off the side of the road.”
After some time they pulled into Burger Town. It felt to Bell like Woods may have taken a longer route than necessary. There wasn’t much open road in West Berlin and surely if it was so popular there would be more than one Burger Town location inside the city. So by her judgement they should have reached one sooner. Bell dismounted the bike and handed Woods the helmet.
“Only Burger Town in the city?”
“Wanted a ride, took the scenic route.”
Good enough for her. The ride had been fun so she wasn’t about to complain.
Bell turned towards the brightly lit building. There was a slightly smaller statue of the Burger Town mascot, Bubby, outside to greet customers as they walked in.
She studied his face. His green eyes seemed to follow her wherever she moved. It was as if he would come alive at any moment.
Friend or foe, Bubby?
The one in the Soviet facility had spouted communist propaganda. She wasn’t even sure if this one could talk.
Bell leaned back to look over the entire building. It wasn’t freestanding, but the facade and the interior looked the same.
“Looks so much like the one we saw in the simulation,” Bell said as Woods walked up to join her.
“Yeah, except no Soviet soldiers to contend with.”
Hopefully.
Woods patted one of the outdoor picnic tables.
“You hang out here. I’m gonna go order. Don’t wander off, or Adler’ll kill me.”
Bell rolled her eyes and hopped onto the table. She moved to light a cigarette but realized Woods was still looking at her. It seemed like he was expecting her to confirm that she actually wasn’t going to wander off.
“Where do you think I’m going to go?” She said, laughing a little in disbelief.
Instead of responding, Woods just shook his head and chuckled to himself as he walked towards the restaurant. Bell turned her head and watched him. He tapped the Bubby statue with the flat of his hand before stepping inside.
Bell braced her hand on the table and leaned back looking up into the night’s sky. She didn’t know what to make of Woods. He projected a certain level of toughness, which was expected. His beard and his style of dress seemed to send the message that he was’t someone to mess with.
But at the same time of all the people she had interacted with at the Safehouse, he was the only one who didn’t seem to be holding her at arm’s length. Well, him and Mason. She would have thought, given their reputation, they would be tougher, intimidating.
Hell even mean.
But they had surprised her. Woods especially. Formidable in the field, a good and capable leader, but at the same time able to shamelessly get excited over something as simple as fast food.
Isn’t that healthier? With a job as hard as his, isn’t a little levity necessary?
She blew a puff of smoke into the air and looked up at the stars. A vague memory of a little dog floated up in her mind—a dog in the stars.
A bag landed next to her causing her to start.Bell turned as Woods hopped up on the table next to her.
“You couldn’t just hand it to me like a normal person?” She asked, lazily flicking her cigarette butt away.Woods narrowed his eyes at her, “You’re one to talk about being normal.”
Bell picked up the bag and carefully opened it.
“Hmm,” She peered inside, “It smells good.”
“What did you expect?” Woods was opening his own bag.
“With you? I can’t be sure.”
He chuckled, “Probably a good policy.”
Then he handed handed her a drink cup. The cup was freezing.
“What’s this?” She asked, pulling up her sleeve to wrap it around the cold drink.
“It’s a milkshake-” Woods began.
“Oh, I love these!” Bell interrupted, her eyes lighting up. Woods gave her a surprised look, but she could tell he was pleased by her reaction.
“Can’t remember the last time I bought someone a milkshake,” Woods said with a grin.
“Oh! Did people really do that in the 50s?” Bell asked as she unwrapped a straw and stabbed into the hole in the lid of the milkshake.
“How do you know about that?” Woods asked, giving her a puzzled look, “How do you not know about this Burger Town, but you know that?”
“I saw it in a movie on TV-” Bell started, but this time Woods cut her off.
“Don’t start singing. All those movies had singing in them,” He rolled his eyes, “Besides, I wasn’t a teenager in the 50s.”
Bell drank from her straw and studied him for a moment.
“Old man,” She said finally, grinning around her straw, Woods pointed a french fry at her.
“What was that kid?”
Bell rolled her eyes and looked away from him out into the street.A car drove up and parked right next to Woods’ motorcycle. Pop music blared from the speakers. A group of teenagers hopped out and headed into the restaurant. Though one stayed behind and leaned on the car. He lit a cigarette. They had left the windows rolled down and the engine running so the music kept on playing. It was loud enough that they could hear it from where they sat. It was a familiar tune, but the lyrics were a little odd.
Bell was surprised to see Woods tapping his foot to the beat.
“Didn’t take you for a pop music fan.”
“You spend a lot of time driving you kind of have to like a variety of music, you know?” He said with a shrug, “Anyway it’s catchy.”
Bell could agree with that.
Then she grunted and grabbed the bridge of her nose. Her head had begun pounding again.
“Brain freeze? You’re drinking that thing too fast,” Woods said, “Anyway you should eat something, your burger is getting cold.”
Grabbing the bag between them he handed it to her. Bell wasn’t sure if her head pain was from the cold milkshake or not. But he was right, she did need to eat.
She took out the burger and folded the bag in her lap. Then with great care she peeled back the wrapping on the burger as if it were something delicate. Finally, she took a bite.
It was so good it surprised her. The bun fluffy and sweet. The burger patty itself a bit smoky. Just a little charred on the outside but nice and juicy on the inside. There was also a tangy sauce that complimented the meat well. Not quite mayo and not quite ketchup. And she was certain there were some vegetables in there somewhere. Nothing like farm fresh veggies advertised in the pictures on the menu of course. But a little limp lettuce and a sad tomato didn’t detract from the experience.
Maybe Woods was onto something. Or maybe she was just hungry.
She took a few greedy bites of the burger.
God she really was hungry.
“Ok ok, slow down!” Woods chuckled, “You ever eat?”
Bell looked sheepishly at the remains of the burger in her hand.
Instead of responding to his question she said, “Thanks Woods, it’s nice to do something- something different.”
“What do you mean?” Woods questioned her. His brow was furrowed as he asked, “Don’t you- I thought you, Sims, and Adler were old pals. Don’t you ever- I don’t know, go for beers or anything?”
“This mission is different. Adler is so focused.”
Bell took another bite then set her burger back down on the paper bag in her lap and debated continuing her thought. She brought a crumpled thin napkin to her mouth, dabbing at whatever food debris might be on her face, while she chewed away and considered things. It would be nice to tell someone what had been bothering her. Let it all out. But she didn’t know Woods like that, they had only just met.
Bell briefly glanced at Woods, who gave her a curious look. Something about it seemed to say she could trust him. That he didn’t mind listening to whatever she had to say.
Is that why he took her out here? Maybe he saw it too? Or at least sensed it. A good leader would notice something was wrong, right?
She looked back out in front of them to the street. The teenagers had bought their food and left. And a new car was pulling into the vacated spot.
“I feel like he’s keeping me at arm’s length,” She said finally, keeping her voice low, “Sims is friendlier, but I think he’s still following Adler’s lead.”
“Oh,” Was Woods’ only response. He sounded surprised. They both let that hang in the air for a moment. Neither saying anything.
It seemed to her like Woods was giving her room to talk if she wanted it. And she did want it. She wanted to talk to someone about how she felt. Holding it all in her head was making her feel like she was crazy. But at the same time talking to someone else about Adler, about her friend, felt like she was being disloyal to him.
After all, shouldn’t she at least try to talk to Adler about it? Why did she feel like she couldn’t?
“Look if you ever want to talk about it. Doesn’t have to be now…” Woods trailed off. She knew what he meant, he was leaving the door open to her.
Bell nodded. Then she chuckled to herself.
“He’s gonna be so pissed,” She said by way of explanation.
“Adler?”
“Yeah,” She said with a sigh, “He wants me to just focus on this mission. It’s like he thinks I’m-” Bell paused, thinking over her words. Then she looked at Woods and shrugged before continuing.
“I don’t know. He thinks I can see things differently. He doesn’t want me distracted. You know what I mean?”
And there she was, unloading, just a little. She sighed, it felt so nice in the moment to just say it. Just let it out.
Bell studied Woods’ face for his reaction. He had invited her to talk to him, but that didn’t necessarily mean he’d believe what she said. Woods ran his fingers through his dark hair, the movement drawing her eyes up. She hadn’t noticed before how in the midst of the thick black hair there were little bits of white mixed in. The white was especially prominent by his temples. He even had a few streaks in his beard. It was such a stark contrast she wasn’t sure how she had missed it.
His blue eyes were fixed ahead, he must have been thinking through what she said.
“Adler’s pretty intense. But even for him, that’s-” He stopped short as if he just realized something, “Shit, Bell, I didn’t want to make things tense between you two. You wanna head back?”
“No,” Bell said with a shrug, “He’s going to be mad no matter what at this point.”
She took a bite of burger and chewed slowly, thinking.Then she nudged him in the arm, saying, “Anyway, it’s worth it.”
Woods blinked at her then his face broke out in a grin.“So, you like the food?” He asked hopefully.
“And the company.”
She nudged him, again and he chuckled softly. They ate their last bites of food in silence. Bell shoved the burger wrapper back in the bag. Woods hopped off the table and took the bag from her crushing it into a tiny ball and tossing it into the trash.
They walked the few feet to the motorcycle and Woods unlocked the tail box to grab his helmet. He handed it to Bell and shoved his hands in his pockets. When he looked at her again his brow was furrowed.
“Say, Bell. I was wondering, how did you get to Vietnam-”
That was not what she had been expecting.
“Do you really want to trade war stories?” She asked as she fitted the helmet over her head and secured the chin strap.
He kicked the sole of his shoe across the sidewalk, then seeming to make his mind up about something hopped on the bike.
“Nah,” He said finally, “Not really.”
July 1981
Something was off. The worn mattress, stained and smelling vaguely of mildew was somehow worse than it had been the last time she woke up on it. Even with it’s ancient springs that poked out of the thinner sections of fabric, those rusty prongs that somehow hadn’t yet given her tetanus, something that had already been the bare minimum of better than sleeping on cold concrete was now inexplicably worse.
Bell was awake now, but did not open her eyes. She breathed in and coughed as tiny fibers of mattress entered her dehydrated throat. Her jaw ached in protest at the movement. Bell groaned and her jaw ached again.
She was on her belly, sleeping at an angle, her entire right arm and shoulder hanging off the edge of the mattress. The back of her hand and her forearm were touching the cold floor. For a moment she thought she couldn’t feel them. The tips of her fingers were so cold she thought they had gone numb. But they hadn’t as she was able to brace them on the ground and lift herself up.
The blanket that had been draped across her- who the hell would even bother to do that- slipped to the floor. She shivered. By her own measurements she could guess it was summer but this place seemed determined to retain the damp and cold.
And she looked up to the single window in her cell, high up on the ceiling, grated, but open, exposing the room to the elements. A drain sat on the floor beneath it to collect rainwater. How she hadn’t caught pneumonia yet was a mystery to her.
She felt the heaviness in her head of lying in one unsupported position all night. Her lower back felt stretched out in the wrong way. Her chest ached like she had been punched.
She curled her legs under her body and dragged the threadbare blanket off the floor as she wrapped it around herself again. With her right hand she massaged her ice-cold toes, her fingers occasionally running over the soft bare nail beds. The feeling of her missing toenails was unsettling and still caused her to shiver. She pushed them from her mind and looked around sorting through the events again in her mind. They must have drugged her. Again.
And that’s how she hadn’t noticed, until this very moment, that they had taken her bedframe.
Bell looked over the mattress. A new dark stain had blossomed over the spot where her head had just been. A vague memory came back to her, the origin of pain in her jaw. She touched her face and with a fingernail chipped away at the thin crust of blood that had settled over her chin.
A realization pushed through her drug-hazed brain and panic thrilled through her. She shoved her finger in her mouth, feeling around, just to be sure. And she relaxed when she found that amazingly all her teeth seemed to be intact. The kick seemed to have only skimmed over her jaw, probably cutting her lip, thus the blood. She didn’t know how they would manage a broken tooth here, but she could imagine that they wouldn’t have the patience or the skill of a practiced dentist. And even if they did they would go for the most painful option anyway. Bell hadn’t been the most cooperative of prisoners.
She rubbed her temples with the heels of her hands. The pressure at least helped to mitigate the ache for a time. Then bracing a hand against the wall behind her, she stood up. Bell fell back into the wall again but was able to just catch herself with her hands.
“Too fast,” She muttered to herself.
Bowing forward slightly to keep the lightheadedness at bay, she once again rose onto her feet. The mattress squeaked in protest, and she walked the long way off of it so she could keep her hand braced on the wall.
The head rush caused the ache in her jaw to throb and send little shocks to the nerve endings across various points in her face.
It had been worth it. She couldn’t recall exactly what lead up to her being kicked in the face, but at a certain point in her stay she realized she might die here. And she made up her mind to make her captor’s lives hell as much as she could until then.
The bed frame had been part of a poorly devised escape plan.
Had it worked it would have been something. And she would be miles away trying to figure out her next steps.
Anyway what does a person with no friends in the world and about six months total of real memories do with freedom?
Where would she go? Well she and-
Bell shook her head. She needed to take things one at a time. First escape, then figure out what to do. Even a carefully laid plan could have some hiccups. She had been down here for months without a clue what was happening outside. Her face could be plastered over every newspaper and post office in the world. That was the consequences of being a part of a plot to blow up a quarter of it.
No no, neutron bomb, remember? Organic material.
Just the people.
Monster.
She sighed and leaned against her hand still braced on the wall. Her fingers curled over the pockmarked concrete. Her empty stomach churned as the acid inside it threatened to rise up her dry throat. She coughed.
“Don’t vomit,” She ordered herself. She had nothing to vomit, it would just be burning acidic mucus and make her feel worse rather than better.
But her stomach did seem to settle. Hot tears rolled over her cheeks and fell from her face and staining the concrete by her nailless toes. Bell pulled her dirty shirt over her face to wipe her cheeks and her nose before pushing off the wall and staggering over to the opposite end of the room.
She pressed the palms of her hands into the wall while she carefully and slowly kneeled. She felt around the floor for a suitable sharp piece of broken concrete. Finding one, she stood again and studied the growing collection tiny marks she had made on the wall as she tried to remember where she left off.
Did it really matter?
Bell ran her fingers over the grooves. Some of the paint around them flaked off and disintegrated when it hit the ground.
Based on the amount of marks she could just about guess it was July. But hell it could be August for all she knew. Between the drugging and all the games they played she could be missing whole days.
She placed her forehead against a clean patch of wall letting the cold concrete soothe her aching head.
How much of her life had slipped away from her?
She couldn’t focus on it. Bell closed her eyes and tried to push it from her mind.
With her mind nearly blank, a song she had heard, maybe once or twice, in the short period of her life that she remembered came to mind. It was amazing how she could be made to forget a lifetime, but an earworm would always stay an earworm.
“Wasting all my time-“ Bell sung into the wall, her voice cracking at the last word.
She firmly, placed her hand on the wall and carved a line into it, starting a new row of tics.
The song continued to run through her head. It was like she was there again. In her tiny collection of memories there were only a select few that she would have described as happy. And even those were tainted now weren’t they?
She raised her fist and slammed it against the wall. More paint flaked away turning into dust on the ground. Bell turned and leaned against the wall.
Then she slid her back down the wall to sit on the floor.
What motivation did she have to keep going?
What was the point of her being here when she could have easily just died on that cliffside? She looked to the window where she could just see the waxing moon in the sky.
Bell shook her head.
“No,” She whispered to herself.And then she recited the same lines she recited every night for the past few months. Words that Adler had embedded in her head, like the song, played as if on repeat.
If I am captured, I will continue to resist by any means available.I will make every effort to escape.
Those words drove her forward. Kept her on her feet. She rolled the concrete stone between her fingers.
Bell smiled and rested her head against the wall again. Maybe the means to Adler’s destruction.
“I know what I’ll do if I get out,” She whispered to the room, “I’ll fucking kill them.”
Tomorrow she would try again.
Tomorrow she would escape.
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efingart · 14 days
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Just for fun and for the last erghhhh 20 hours left of the actual poll? Give or take
Also, if you want to vote for real you can always join us
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We're voting again! Which one do you want to see fully painted and uh *ahem* spicy? And yes I already got to painting some of these, I'm actually trying a new technique and got excited to try it out. 😂
Anyway, if you are 18+ and have ever considered joining my Patreon and are able to, now would be an awesome time (you'd also really be helping me out💙). There's so much good sexy art and comics up there already and there's more to come! Link in my pinned post.
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efingart · 15 days
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What's up with all these "why aren't we talking about [thing]" posts lately when the op doesn't interact with the blogs that are literally actually talking about the [thing]?
You say you're interested in [thing], but the people who are making work for [thing] have never seen you in their notifs before. And when they say they enjoy it too never see you in their notifs after.
What's that about?
Y'all just want to be the one to discover the thing that's been around for almost a decade? Sorry, we been here, making content for it all along.
The alternative interpriation is that "I see your content, and I don't like it, so I'm going to pretend it's not there." Which, I know not everything is going to appeal to everyone, but you're just blanket-insulting an entire community (even if it's only a few people, it's still a community). If you're not seeing what you want to see, you gotta make it yourself. That's just how it works.
(Just don't expect the people you've just insulted to engage with it.)
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efingart · 16 days
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This is also a drawing
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Pen study
I did this a while ago and never posted it here? From Summer 2020.
Hopefully, Tumblr doesn't murder the quality. Sometimes, I like to paint realistically to see if I can do it (it's rare).
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efingart · 16 days
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I'm drawing a super detailed alarm clock right now and felt like reblogging this because my love of drawing details is not a new thing (when I have time).
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I spent too much time on this so I’m going to make sure everyone gets a chance to see it
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efingart · 16 days
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tag people you want to get to know better
tagged by the amazing @sidver thank you!!! 💙
last song: 21 Guns- Green Day
currently watching: true crime stories on Youtube (it helps me concentrate) 🔪
three ships: Frank & Mila, Bill & Mari (ocs), and now the Alex enjoyers got me thinking about Alex & Em LOL 💘 and all my friends' amazing oc ships
favorite color: blue, any 💙
currently consuming: coffee! ☕️
first ship: I don't remember tbh! 🤷‍♀️ Probably some ocs I made in middle school
place of birth: USA (not gonna get more specific with that)
current location: Chicago 🌃
relationship status: taken 💍
last movie: Pacific Rim 🤖
currently working on: drawing sexy demon comics 😈
tagging: @deadbranch, @brewed-pangolin, @writeforfandoms, @ohgeesoap
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efingart · 16 days
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Bell POV
Inspiration hit me like a freight train, and I needed to draw this ASAP.
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efingart · 16 days
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Sweater Weather
Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, it's all just an excuse for me to draw him in my favorite fit 😉
There is of course, a spicier version. And you probably already know where.
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efingart · 16 days
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Hit the showers!
Now we have Price in "nothing but a towel" (he's also in nothing but a nothing but that's over here). I do have some ideas for other characters 👀 so you'll probably see the SFW versions of those down the line.
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