Can legally drink in my homestate(21) but I won't drink ever. Mostly talks about Call of Duty(main focus is Bell x Alder Ship) and Real Heroes:Firefighters(Wii firefighting game. There’s full gameplay video online if you want to check it to see what I’m talking about)
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I love this @bluebellwren , it’s a really fascinating look in the beginning of Joanne and Alex’s beginnings
(a comment and or a reblog would really make her day) check out her AO3 blog as well
— Omnium Gatherum [Black Ops OC Fan Week]: Day One - "Childhood/Starting Out"
RATING: T | AO3 LINK | CHAPTER MASTERLIST
❝ A collection of miscellaneous people or things. ❞ — Omnium gatherum definition
SYNOPSIS
Written as part of @ladysouthpaw1213's Black Ops OC Fan Week.
A collection of various vignettes that provide snapshots in the lives of my many Black Ops OCs that I may not be able to cover in my main series of fanfics, either on their own or with their future partners present. They lead different lives, at different points in time, in different places, but every so often their paths converge. Some of these are canon for now, some might not be later down the line, but let this serve as a tiny peek into their lives.
CATEGORIES: Gen
WORD COUNT: 5.6k
WARNINGS
Canon-typical violence, very slight divergence from canon, period-typical attitudes towards women (not heavy on this because it isn't something I like writing), implied/referenced period-typical racism, swearing, child soldiers, implied child abuse (due to the aforementioned child soldiers), historical inaccuracies, military inaccuracies, hunting/animal death, past/mentioned brainwashing, and brief/implied religious persecution and other issues prevalent in the Soviet Union (I will not sugarcoat/whitewash their actions when it's relevant.)
CHAPTER SUMMARY
Day One: Childhood/Starting Out.
Fairbanks, Territory of Alaska. 1950. Joanne's first hunting trip.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
I figured it would be fun to do something like this. I might do more than one thing for the same prompt, and I have a second idea for day one that I'm going to try and have out later tonight to go along with this one, but I can't promise I'll get everything out on time. I'm already a day behind at this point...life is life-ing and I only have so much energy. And also because every time I try to do prompts and tell myself it's juuuuust gonna be a quick, couple hundred words I always get carried away and end up with way more than I actually meant to write. But for now...big shout-out to Rosie for hosting fun little stuff like this for the fandom.
Anyway, since the Alaskan Department of Fish and Game wasn't granted full authority until 1960 (and only really established the previous year when Alaska became a state) and the only information I can find about federal regulations for hunting in America from the 40s and 50s is talking about things enacted as part of the migratory bird act, I'm going to assume that hunting regulations were a bit fast and loose. It can't be said that I didn't try.
Warning in this chapter for period-typical misogyny, and mentions and depictions of animal death (via hunting and fishing), a fleeting mention of animal cruelty (mention of a litter of coydog pups being abandoned, to put it nicely), as well as very briefly mentioned/implied period-typical racism (Alaskan Natives were segregated until 1945 and interracial marriage was outlawed in the lower 48 until the late 60s ((though Alaska itself never had a law banning interracial marriage)), therefore Joanne's family would have likely been a bit taboo hence why they live a bit more privately.)
❝ The Hunt ❞
1950 Fairbanks, Territory of Alaska
Self-sufficiency was a survival skill.
Joanne—for the short amount of time she’d been alive—could remember the lessons her parents taught her. Her father especially emphasized that Alaska was a lifestyle. His family had arrived when it was still known as Russian America, having to adapt to the environment when they realized just how brutal the winters could be and how little there was to be imported from other places. Her mother’s family had been here for what was likely centuries by now. Both of her parents hunted, fished, grew, and foraged their own food and made a living running a general store to sell part of their haul every season, along with other supplies, materials, and ingrediants that required no effort but transportation from the coast.
Her family lived outside of Fairbanks’ city limits; close enough to commute if need be, far enough that travel was a chore at best or impossible at worse in the case of an emergency Because of this distance, hunting and fishing were a necessity, and they became something of a communal activity for the few families that lived nearby. When they weren’t running the general store or tending to the gardens and animals they had they were hunting, fishing, or learning to do those things. If you didn’t know how to take care of yourself you were a liability, even if no one said this out loud (and least of all to children.) You took care of yourself and you took care of others when you could. It was an unspoken arrangement that everyone in the more rural settings seemed to understand.
At the age of six Joanne was blissfully unaware of the strife around her. She lived with her mother and her father and she saw her uncle and cousins daily. Occasionally extended relatives from both sides would visit, but their visits were short-lived and few and far between. She didn’t know yet why they lived so far from the city or why she did her school at home or why her father’s family chided her for roughhousing and playing in her church clothes and throwing the pocket knife her father had gifted her (or for having the pocket in the first place) or any number of other issues. She didn’t care about those things.
What she cared about were the fun things she got to do. Every day she was given tasks such as her grade school homework, counting money, helping her parents stock shelves, sewing, knitting, feeding the animals, tending the family’s gardens in the greenhouse out back, untangling the bait from the tackle boxes, stripping bark of off sticks with her pocket knife or practicing throwing it while her parents, uncle, and older cousins did things she was too young to do. Things like shooting a crossbow or a pellet gun. Every time she asked to join in they would tell her to wait until she was older, so she’d mope on the back steps and grudgingly watch what they were doing while her father did his best to explain the motions to her.
It wasn’t until her seventh birthday had come and gone and summer was slowly fading into the fall that her father finally agreed to bring her on their annual hunting trip and teach her how to handle a gun. She was ecstatic. He woke her up early, before the sun was up, and walked her through all of the necessary supplies they needed to pack for the hunt. Joanne listened intently, nodding along, clumsily trailing behind him as she did her best to help him carry and pack things. They packed some cans of vegetables and chili, some rations he’d stolen from when he was in the army (but it wasn’t actually the army, apparently, she just thought everything to do with soldiers was the army and nothing else existed), dried meats and fruits, and of course ammunition and weapons (which Joanne was not allowed to handle.) They loaded it into packs and saddle bags, opting to take a horse while her uncle and cousins would take a truck and move mostly on foot. The horse was supposed to be easier on her, since she wasn’t exactly able to keep up with that much walking.
Joanne only really cared about one thing, though. “Will I get to shoot a gun?”
“I don’t think so, Joanie,” her father said, apologetically. “You’re not big enough for that yet. But we can show you how it's done.”
“No one thinks I’m big enough for anything,” Joanne huffed, not at all paying attention to the fact that the gun resting by the shed was bigger than she was. She would have brought it to him, and would have seen just how awkwardly sized it was and how heavy the gun was, but she was taught to never touch a gun. Not until she was old enough to learn how to handle one…and up until the last day or so she hadn’t been old enough to learn. “It’s not fair.”
“I think it’s plenty fair,” he said, hoisting her up from her armpits and plopping her down on the saddle before he retrieved his gun. He slung the weapon over his back. “There’s a lot of things you can do and a lot of things you can’t do. Life is always gonna be like that.” He braced one foot into the stirrup and hoisted himself up, swinging his other leg across the saddle and settling into the seat. “But there are gonna be plenty of things that you can do but that are gonna take some time. If you’re gonna be a hunter you’re gonna need to learn persistence.” He reached around and poked his index finger to her cheek, making her giggle and swat him away. “And patience.”
So patience she learned, having to exercise the skill a great deal for the trek to the hunting grounds. The horse and their dog made the trip more entertaining.
They had a few horses they could barely maintain. The horse her father most often took on hunting trips was one he’d bought off someone that was no longer interested in life in Alaska and wanted to return to the States and the city, though she remembered her father telling her that the man wasn’t much of a horseman anyway. A sturdy, well-muscled quarter horse that was clever and well-mannered but apparently not much to look at if you were a well-seasoned ‘horse snob’ as her dad had put it. To Joanne he looked perfectly fine. A dark brown bay with a polite face. Usually lazy until he caught sight of a hunting rifle. He was always excited for those trips. They called him Bear because of his dark coat and how shaggy he’d been the winter her dad brought him home.
Their other companion was Jack. Joanne remembered a lot about Jack as she got older. She remembered when they found Jack. They were on a fishing trip and her father snagged a sack out of the river to find Jack and his littermates, the rest of them drowned and him hanging by a thread. From the look of things he was some kind of husky-collie coydog, with a wiry body and big narrow ears, likely an accident that someone just didn’t want to deal with. He never acted much like a dog, but he never strayed from the family home or shop in the two years they’d had him. He wasn’t much of a hunting dog, not in the traditional sense at least, but he would tell always alert them if a bear or wolf was anywhere nearby.
They kept a steady pace throughout the morning. Her mom stayed behind to run the store and the two of them set off on their adventure. They’d only be gone a few days for this hunt, then they’d come back. After a few hours of riding they reached their destination, meeting up with her Uncle Roy and her cousins, Samuel, Gene, and Andrew in their truck. They left the car behind and set off on foot, which meant that Joanne and her dad slowed to a walk for the rest of the trip. They only went a mile or so in before they met up with their other regular hunting companions.
The Masons were another family that lived nearby…or as nearby as you could live to someone in the middle of nowhere at the time. Joanne knew them, or she kind of knew them. They’d been around since she was born. Apparently Mr. Mason and her dad grew up together, and when her mom was left alone while her dad was fighting in the war Mr. Mason wrote to his wife and her dad wrote to her mom and suggested the two meet up. Since then Mrs. Mason would come and go and bring her children around, usually her daughters. The Mason’s son was supposed to be Joanne’s designated playmate, being the closest in age to her out of the three of them, but more often when he would visit with his mother and sisters Joanne would be left out while they played with her cousins instead. She didn’t like any of them very much because of that.
So she wasn’t very exactly thrilled when she saw him, following the man she assumed was Mr. Mason (she’d never really seen or properly met the man before then.) She didn’t know much about Mr. Mason. All she knew seeing him for the first time was that he seemed…different from his wife. Stern. More intimidating. He reminded her of a moose or a bear. Big, broad, and generally irritated at people existing near him. And she was left more confused when he spoke.
The group exchanged their pleasantries, her cousins bounding over to greet the Mason boy while the adults talked. Joanne was fully expecting to become invisible once again. The adults would acknowledge her only so far as to give her instructions to stay safe and out of the way and her cousins and the boy would ignore her presence entirely. Only that didn’t happen. Because Mr. Mason’s eyes landed on Joanne and his brow furrowed. “You brought your girl on a hunt, David?”
“She’s here, isn’t she?” her father said, exchanging a look with her uncle. She had to lean back against his chest just to see his expression, able to feel the rumble of his voice against her back and shoulders. She could tell from his tone that he didn’t like what had been said. “She should see how it’s done.”
“You were serious about teaching her?” Mr. Mason asked. “Little young isn’t she?”
“Al was the same age when you started bringing him,” her uncle was the one that cut in this time.
“Alex has a good head on his shoulders,” Mr. Mason said. “And he’s been learning this stuff since he could walk. It’s not a field trip.”
“So has Joanne,” her dad said. “That’s how things are done around here. You should know that better than anyone, Henry.”
“Maybe so,” Mr. Mason said. He adjusted the rifle strap across his chest, scrutinizing Joanne like he was sizing up a deer. She didn’t shrink away, more confused by his attitude than anything. Why did he care so much? Eventually, he turned and began to march through the knee-length grasses. “Just keep her out of the way.”
Her father exchanged another look with her uncle before Uncle Roy shook his head and let out an exasperated huff, following after while the boys fell in behind them. Her dad gave a sharp, loud whistle through his teeth to recall Jack from where he’d been sniffing through the grass, and then gave a light kick and a click of his tongue to urge Bear to walk on after the rest of the hunting party.
“I don’t get it,” Joanne said to her dad as they took up the rear. “What’s wrong with me being here?”
“Nothing’s wrong with you being here,” her dad said, but she could tell he was a bit irritated by the incident. She hoped it wasn’t because of her. She didn’t think that it was. He must have been able to tell she was worried, because his tone changed immediately. “Now, whaddya say we find ourselves some caribou, yeah?”
The previous slight was almost immediately forgotten as Joanne broke out in a grin and eagerly nodded. He kicked Bear into a trot to catch up to the others, Jack racing after them.
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“You should’ve had a son,” was what Mr. Mason said to her father later that night. And it wasn’t the first time Joanne had heard someone say something like that. As she got older she realized how silly it was...no one could have controlled that.
She ignored him—you weren’t supposed to interrupt adults—and continued to twist her latest prize catch over the fire they’d made.
The adults had sent the kids on a mini-expedition to gather supplies, some meat for dinner (they hadn’t lucked out and found a herd of caribou on the first day), and to start a fire. They’d successfully gathered the material and then raced each other down to the nearest creek to see if they could find any fish…the catch being that they hadn’t packed any fishing supplies. Alex—the Mason boy—used his crossbow to get one. That gave her cousins the idea. But Joanne wasn’t old enough to use a crossbow. Initially she did what she normally did whenever her family was working with weapons she wasn’t old enough to master and sat off to the side, moping, trying to figure out what to do.
Eventually she’d kicked off her shoes, rolled up her pants legs, and bided her time pacing along the bank until she spotted a good fish. Then she pounced, jumping into the water and grabbing it. She tossed it to the shore and pulled her knife out to give it a swift death, not wanting it to suffer when it died. When she straightened back up she was covered in mud and soaked up to her knees, but victorious, her cousins and Alex standing in stunned silence before they began to laugh and fawn over her technique.
Their little gaggle returned to the adults with several fish, laughing the whole way, everyone boasting about it. Her uncle found the whole thing amusing, but her father was less than thrilled by the fact she’d come back soaking wet and covered in mud but he seemed pretty happy she’d done something all by herself…and Mr. Mason was completely indifferent to the situation. Joanne didn’t care. She proudly held up the two fish she’d caught with her bare hands, pocket knife in need of cleaning, and grinned, eager to cook her food and share with everyone.
That was how the fireside chat started.
The boys were minding their own business. Joanne pretended she wasn’t listening.
“You and Alma planning on trying for a boy?” Mr. Mason asked.
“Nope.” Her father was absently undoing the braid her hair was done up in to comb through it for the night.
“More hands to help hunt wouldn’t hurt,” Mr. Mason said. “And to help out around the store.”
“I’ve got plenty of hands,” her dad said. “Joanne helps at the store when we’re at home, helps fish, helps take care of the animals, and now she can start hunting with the rest of us.”
“All right.” Mr. Mason threw his hands up in defeat, but his tone did change a bit. “Good enough, I suppose.”
“You don’t think your wife or daughters could help hunt?” Uncle Roy asked.
“They don’t want to. No interest in it,” Mr. Mason shrugged. “Laura’s from down in Seattle. No need to hunt in the city or fish, you just go down to the market and buy the—” he started to say another word, but with a glance around at everyone he clearly thought better of it and cleared his throat, “—stuff. She’s raising the girls to be the same…stay at home and look after things there instead of being covered in blood, mud, and animal guts. They’re happier that way.”
Uncle Roy hummed. “Hmm. Sounds boring if you ask me.”
Mr. Mason gave him a look. “I don’t see Alma out here much.”
“Someone’s gotta run the store,” Joanne’s father said, combing his fingers through her hair. “I’ve stayed behind before; let her and Roy take the boys out instead.”
“I wasn’t ever invited,” Mr. Mason said.
“Yeah, well, we didn’t think you’d want to go. She’s the one in charge out there,” Uncle Roy said. “My sister should’ve been a marksman.”
“Marksman,” Mr. Mason echoed with a scoff. He reached for his pack, getting to his feet with a grunt “Well…we’ve got a lot of ground to cover. I’m turning in for the night.” He whistled to get Alex’s attention, ending the boys’ jeering and roughhousing. It also got Jack, Bear, and everyone else’s attention. “Bedtime, son.”
Alex got one last shove in, lightly elbowing Gene between his ribs before he hopped to his feet. Everyone absently sounded off a goodnight to one another as the two set out their bedrolls, leaving everyone else by a fire that was slowly dying down while they finished their food. One by one everyone followed suit.
Joanne settled under her blanket by the fire, watching the dying embers while she ran her hands through Jack’s fur. Her father set up his own spread horizontal to hers, their heads to one another. He wouldn’t fall asleep right away, not until the last of the embers had burned out, but she knew he would expect her to sleep. Unfortunately the excitement of the day and her confusion over the adult’s conversation was keeping her awake and making her jittery.
She wasn’t stupid. She was starting to catch onto things. Stuff that made her family a peculiarity even to the people around them. But this was the first time it was directed at her in an overt manner. It wasn’t the first time someone thought she shouldn’t do something, not that she couldn’t eventually do it, but for some reason it wasn’t annoying like when her dad’s mother had shrieked and snatched her knife from her just because she saw her with it (she hadn’t even been doing anything with it.) There were things other people expected her to do or not do and she couldn’t be sure what she was supposed to do to fix it.
She stared up through the branches at the stars for a moment before she worked up the courage to say anything. “Hey, dad?”
“Hmm?”
“Why doesn’t Mr. Mason want me here?”
Her father let out a heavy sigh. “Joanie, go to sleep.”
“I can’t,” Joanne admitted.
“Great.” She heard the fabric shift as he rolled onto his side and she tilted her head up to stare at him in the dark. “There’s a lot of reasons he acts the way he does. He doesn’t know any better.”
“What does that mean?” Joanne asked him.
“It means…people have different lives. Different things are ‘normal’ to different people. And Mr. Mason may have grown up here but he wasn’t raised the same way you are,” her dad said. “Things are different out here than they are in other places, but that doesn’t mean everyone is on the same page. Mr. Mason doesn’t come from a family like ours, so the way he thinks the world should operate is a lot different.”
“What does that have to do with me?” Joanne asked.
“The problem isn’t you specifically, kid,” her dad said. “The problem is him. He’s just not used to seeing everyone doing the exact same thing. He’ll get over it. It’s not your job to fix it, it’s his problem.” He rolled back over. “Just keep doing what you’re doing. Grab fish with your barehands, toss your knife at trees, just the same stuff you always do. If he doesn’t realize you’re just as good as his kid then that’s on him, not you. Understand?”
She did, but it didn’t help much. She wasn’t about to tell him that, though. “Yeah.”
Her dad might not have been convinced, but he accepted the answer all the same. “All right,” he said. “Now try and get some sleep, okay? We’ve got another early start tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she said, pulling her blanket over her. “Goodnight.”
As it turned out, that wasn’t the last time she’d have to deal with Mr. Mason’s disapproval. It wasn’t the last time she’d want his approval, either.
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The hunt yielded no results for days. They’d tracked the herd across a river and into a valley by now and hadn’t actually seen one in person. During that time Joanne practiced all of her survival skills alongside her cousins and Alex, joined in on their challenges and games and silly dares when the time presented itself, and kept up with everyone to the best of her ability. She even insisted on walking most of the trip like the boys did (though part of that was because she was getting saddle sore.) As she started to fall in with everyone else, Mr. Mason began to tolerate her existence. But by now she was focused on the end goal and killing something so they could go home.
During their very long hikes and very short nights her father and uncle coached her on how to use different weapons. They let her go through the motions of using a crossbow and a rifle, telling her where to aim to give different animals a quick death. Even though she could barely hold the gun steady. The crossbow was easier as far as weight was concerned, but the overall size wasn’t much of an improvement. But she wanted to learn. She wanted to do this stuff. So she had to suck it up and figure it out anyway.
On the fifth day, they finally managed to track the herd to a meadow and they set everything into motion. They stayed downwind of the group, found a good vantage point, and everyone readied their weapons. Only one of them would take the kill when it came down to it but all three of the adults said it was good to have contingencies. They settled in, and Joanne lingered behind the group as an observer. She didn’t expect she’d be doing any actual hunting herself. But then…
“Joanne,” her father said, voice barely above a whisper. He motioned her over. “C’mere.” She felt like a deer in the headlights, frozen in spot as everyone looked at her with varying degrees of surprise. But she slowly, quietly crept forward and crouched beside him as her uncle made room. Her father propped the rifle on a fallen tree and nodded for her to grab it. “Remember how we showed you?”
“Uh…I think so,” Joanne said. “Why?”
“You’re the greenhorn,” Uncle Roy said. “You need the experience. First kill is yours.”
“But—” It was a bit surprising that she was the only one to protest.
“No time for ‘buts,’” her dad said. “Take the gun.” Joanne knew that hesitance wasn’t a good trait to have in a situation like this, so she swallowed and shakily lifted the rifle. Her father guided the stock to her shoulder, helped adjust the grip, and placed his hand on her back to steady her. “Find your target. You see that big bull walking the edge of the herd? That’s the one you want. Aim just behind the shoulder…you wanna strike a lung so he goes down quick.”
“Okay.” Joanne closed one eye, peering through the sight of the rifle. She adjusted it, lining the crosshairs up with the bull. She could see him clearly. Well muscled and tall, a large rack of antlers that no doubt served as a deadly weapon as well as a testament of strength. She was happy she was several yards away and armed…even from here he seemed big and intimidating. Although she lined up the shot, tracking a moving target was a bit harder. “How do I know when to shoot?”
“You’ll know. Just aim slightly ahead…follow his movements, wait until you have a clear shot,” her dad said, helping her track the animal. With his experience he didn’t need the sight to compensate for the distance. It was just something he could do, instinctively. Like an eagle with a rabbit. “Remember to breathe. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Pad of your finger on the trigger when you think you’re ready, all right? And don’t forget the recoil.”
She was keenly, uncomfortably aware of everyone watching her. Mr. Mason scrutinizing her, her cousins no doubt betting on whether she’d successfully make the kill or not without any actual experience shooting instead of dry firing and watching everyone else, her uncle and father expecting her to make it without any doubt in their minds, and the Mason boy watching her like he couldn’t decide what side of the fence he was on. She swallowed, her mouth dry, adjusting her hold on the rifle. In spite of the chill in the air her palms were sweating. She wanted to do this, but she was scared to now that it was an immediate possibility and not something she had to wait for. But for the sake of everyone around her she had to do it anyway.
She remembered the things her father had spent the last week telling her, the amount of times she’d watched her family do stuff like this even if it was only to hone their skills and not an actual hunt, and did her best to stop her shaky breathing. Carefully, she led the target with the rifle, the crosshairs just ahead of where she wanted to shoot. Then she focused on her breathing. In. Out. Slow, and steady. She moved her index finger down to the trigger, and breathed in one more time. And in the pause before her exhale she pulled the trigger back.
The shot crackled out, the stock of the rifle slamming into her shoulder. The rest of the herd scattered at the sound, along with the crows that were resting in the birch trees that sheltered their hunting party. They broke into a trot and then charged off at a gallop, the bull only briefly attempting to follow before his gait slowed to an awkward lope as he succumbed to bullet wound in a matter of seconds until finally he fell to his knees and rolled his heavy body onto its side. The silvery-tan of his fur stood out against the dying yellow grasses.
For a few seconds there was silence as Joanne lowered the gun, peering down at the distant body of the caribou. Then she broke out in a grin. “I did it,” she said quietly, then let out a shrill, excited squeal. “I did it!”
Her dad gave her a matching grin, placing a hand on her head to give it a shake. “Attagirl.”
“Did she actually get it in the lung?” Mr. Mason asked.
“He went down fast,” Uncle Roy said. “I’m willing to bet that she did.”
“We’ll find out in a few minutes,” her father said.
Joanne wanted to go and check it out, but she remembered her father telling her she had to be patient. As patient as she’d been over the last few days, walking through the woods in search of the herd, she knew she had to be patient for a few more minutes. So she sat and fidgeted until her father checked his watch and deemed it safe enough to go down and recover the carcass.
She led the way down, Jack jogging beside her, childishly ignoring her dad’s advice to stick behind them as he dragged Bear along by the reins. In spite of the fact she was approaching an animal several times her size that could have easily kicked or impaled her if it was still alive she was too eager to confirm the kill to wait. She stopped a few feet, peering over for a few seconds to make sure it was dead. She didn’t see or hear it breathing and Jack approached it to sniff at it curiously before her dad called him back. Joanne spun around and went jogging after him, bouncing excitedly, not caring if her cousins or Alex were judging her. This was her moment, not theirs. They could act however they wanted when they killed something and she’d act how she wanted.
“I got it, I got it!” she cheered, practically vibrating with excitement as the adults approached. Her father passed Bear over to her cousin Samuel to hold, swinging his rifle over his shoulder. Joanne ran up to him and followed him as he moved to inspect the carcass. She stayed just behind him, still smiling. “I got it right?”
A second later her dad reached for her and hoisted her into the air, spinning her around. “You sure did!” he said through a laugh. She giggled as he spun her, still grinning when he set her back on the ground. He reached down to ruffle her hair with his knuckles. “You’re a real hunter now, how’s it feel?”
“Really, really good,” she said through her giggles, swatting his hand away.
“Look at the size of this thing,” Alex said, approaching the kill. He circled the carcass, resting a hand on the antlers. “He’s a big one.” He gave Joanne a smile as she looked his way, but he put on a slightly more serious and composed expression a second later, pulling back from the body. “You did pretty good.”
“Here.” To her surprise, Mr. Mason dropped his pack to the ground and dug something out, approaching her dad and holding out a compact camera. Joanne and her family didn’t own one, but she’d seen the ones sold down in Anchorage and in a few stores here in Fairbanks, but never knew anyone that owned one. He held it out for her father to take. He looked down at Joanne, giving her a look and a nod that was probably the closest to approval and acknowledgement she’d ever get…in the years to follow she became very well acquainted with his grudgingly respectful nods. Probably not as well as Alex and his daughters were, but she was a close fourth. She saw it for just a second before he turned back to her dad and nodded to the carcass. “Not complete without a picture showing off her kill. We can get it developed next trip into town.”
“Damn, how’d you get your hands on one of these?” her dad asked, turning the camera over in his hands.
“Got a good deal on it when we went down to visit Laura’s parents,” Mr. Mason replied. He reached out and tapped his index finger on the lens. “Less talking, more picture taking.” He marched through the grass, out of the way of Joanne and her dad. Alex raced after him. “We’ve got a long hike back with this thing. We need to make the most of the daylight.”
“All right, Joanie. C’mere.” Her dad guided her over to the caribou’s head. “Grip the antlers like this—” he grabbed the bone of the antlers and lightly shook, letting her take over, “—and lift his head up as much as you can so we can get a good shot.”
“Like this?” Joanne asked. Her hands were still small and the size of the antlers and the animal’s head made it awkward. All she was able to do was tilt the limp head upwards slightly.
“Perfect. Just like that.” Her dad took a few steps back as she held the pose for as long as she could. He raised the camera, Mr. Mason showing him what to do, and once he was ready he called out, “Okay, big smile. One…two…three…”
Joanne grinned from ear to ear, the giddiness and pride from the hunt returning as she showed off her kill. There was a brief series of flashes as he took a few pictures, and once he lowered the camera she dropped the antlers, still smiling. “Did you get it?”
Her father looked over the camera again. He huffed out an awkward laugh. “I sure hope so.”
“We’ll find out as soon as we get it developed,” Mr. Mason said, retrieving his camera. “For now, we should start getting this guy ready to move.”
Joanne reached for her pocket knife, but her Uncle stopped her. “Nuh-uh, kiddo, you’re gonna need a bigger knife than that.” He reached for the holster on his belt, pulling his hunting knife out. He carefully gripped the blade, leaving the handle for her to grab. “This oughta do the trick.”
It wasn’t possible for her to grin any wider as she held the knife, testing the weight in her hands before she knelt by the carcass with her father, the others following suit. It proved to be the first of many times she’d come back from a hunt victorious. By herself, with her family, with Alex…but nothing beat her very first kill that fall. A trip of a lifetime that taught her patience and self-reliance. It was because of those skills that she and her family made it through a few bad winters, and how she was able to make it on her own when there was no one around to help her. She could take care of herself, which allowed her to take care of others.
And seeing her dad and the others so happy and proud of her was an added bonus.
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I hope I don't sound dumb when I ask this, but what's a fanweek 😭 I am genuinely so confused but curious on wth it is 😭🙏
Hi @quietexit
Rest assure, it’s okay to ask. So a Fanweek is a week dedicated to some part of fandom(whatever is character based, ship based or even just focusing on the media on general). Six of the seven days are dedicated to a theme prompt choice(like say, Day 1’s theme is Day/Night. You can choose do one of them in any media of your choice or even do both if you wish). Day 7 tends to be a free day(meaning you can do any topic you wish)
It’s a good way to help out the community(give artist and writers ideas if they been dealing with a dry spell lately and readers get to see some of the many amazing creators of the fandom). I’m hoping that these black ops fanweek will help out with the sorta dry spell in the black ops fandom as well as encouraging more interactively(like comments and Reblogs)
💜💙🩵Thanks for asking💜🩵💙 and come back anytime to ask more
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OCs, Reader Inserts and Self Inserts Fanweek 2025 Day 2: Off The Clock
Natalia/Bell tends to spend her off time at the safehouse(when not with Russell and or the crew) either writing in her journal, reading books, talking pictures or even just her knife and marksman skills(alternatively, cleaning them out and making sure they are still in working order for next mission)
#Cod bell#call of duty bell#OC: Natalia”Bell”Novikov#call of duty cold war#cod: black ops 6#black ops 6#black ops oc#OCs Reader Inserts and Self Inserts Fanweek 2025#cod black ops cold war
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@hedgehogsaretheultimatelifeform are a great reader insert writer for black ops(as well as Modern Warfare). So if you are looking for say a specific reader gender, you come to the right place for a request) They have also done some amazing non request fics as well(including a yearly October series. Excited to see 2025). I highly recommend checking out their masterlist.
If you can, take the time for a comment and or reblog as well. It would really make their day. Be Sure to Thank them if they do your request as well
Obligatory request post!
Requests are currently: CLOSED!
Request slots: 2/3
1. While I am happy to cover lots of different topics and scenarios, I do reserve the right to refuse any ask.
2. I answer on a first come, first serve basis.
3. Once requests are full, requests will close, and reopen when all three have been fulfilled.
4. If you want something specific, make sure to give me those details! (Settings, plot points, gender of a reader, etc)
5. I am happy to write NSFW, but only if specifically requested!
6. I work on asks when I am able to - please be patient! The ask will come out when it is ready!
7. I’m still open to answer questions even if fic requests are closed!
Current requests:
- Yandere!Ranger!Adler x Bell!Reader
- Yandere!Park x Yandere!Adler x Bell!Reader
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OCs, Reader Inserts and Self Insert Fanweek 2025 Day 1: Childhood
Natalia”Bell”Novikov:
Natalia had a plush white rabbit with a red ribbon around its neck named Zayka(little rabbit). It was made for her by her mother Svetlana when when Natalia was only 2 years old. Natalia would always sleep with the plush rabbit in bed or even just hold it even she was upset. She took it with her to boarding school. Zayka’s current whereabouts are unknown(though rumor has it that it’s on the desk of a certain someone as a reminder of his missing daughter)
Teresa Mason:
Teresa had a doll named Mirabella given to her on her 6th birthday. She had some damage over the years(one of the eyes seems to be somewhat stuck in sleep eye position, Her hair is completely different from its original regal hairstyle , etc) but Teresa loved her all the same(you could say she was Teresa’s first patient). Teresa also used to make dresses for Mirabella as well(some had a better results than others). Mirabella is currently in the Mason house(she’s in storage somewhere)
#black ops oc#OC:Natalia”Bell”Novikov#OC:Teresa Mason#OCs Reader Inserts and Self Inserts Fanweek 2025#call of duty#cod blops#cod bell#call of duty bell#Mason’s Wife
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Hi Rosie, saw others and got curious 😔😔👉👈 how do you think our Bells would get along? Or what would Nat think of Nisha??
Hi @milanvenuss, Good Question
The two would have some common ground for some discussions between the two(considering both grew up in the Soviet Union as well as being in Perseus’ inner circle). They probably would also find common ground in their specialty in deciphering and marksmanship. At the very least, Natalia would view Nisha with sympathy and understanding over what they had become due to her own background
💜💙🩵Thanks for Asking💜💙🩵(Sorry it took a little bit) and come back anytime to ask more
#🌹friends of rosie🌹#🌹rosie answers🌹#OC:Natalia”Bell”Novikov#call of duty cold war#cod black ops cold war#cod bell#call of duty bell
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For the OC fan week prompts are we allowed to have multiple entries for the same prompt? For example if we have multiple characters and want to write or draw more than one thing for every day
Hi Anon, Yes you may🥰. It’s completely allowed
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My version of Mason’s Wife(Bio still a work in process)
Picrew used for visual reference: click
Name: Teresa Mason(Maiden Name: Lombardi)
Love Interests: Alex Mason and Frank Woods(Spouses)
Birthday: July 29, 1934
Date of Death: November 27, 1986
Birthplace: St Louis, Missouri
Nationally: Italian American
Family:
David “Section” Mason(Son)
Carlos Lombardi(Father)
Sofia Lombardi(Mother)
Enzo Lombardi(Brother)
Francesco Lombardi(Brother)
Vito Lombardi(Brother)
Viola Lombardi(Sister)
Cecilia Lombardi(Sister)
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Grey Green
Skin Color: Olive
Occupation: Medic for Vietnam and Safehouse Crew
Personality: Confident and Outgoing
Face Claim: Monica Belluchi
Bio:(work in process) Teresa was the fourth of six children of Carlos and Sofia Lombardi. She and her siblings grew up helping out in their family deli/market. She eventually went on to become a medic(which is how she meet Mason and by account Woods in 1970, eventually ending up in a relationship with the two) It wasn’t uncommon for her to be at the Safehouse tending wounds of the crew after missions. Sadly she passed away from cancer in 1986, leaving behind her siblings, husbands and her son David.
#call of duty black ops#cod black ops oc#alex mason x oc#frank woods x oc#mason x woods x oc#yes she gets two husbands
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Boy the thrill on here when this came out since it was our first look of Adler in 1991
Call of Duty: Black Ops 6 - gifs 17/?
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Since we both have a character with the nickname "Bluebell". I got curious how your Bell got that name. Does it come from the Bluebell flower or Something else?
Have a great day ^^
Hi, Good Question
Yes, Natalia’s nickname of Bluebell came from the flower. It was inspired by an old AdlerBell fic(since deleted and the author had deactivated but people has saved it by reblogging it) where Adler calls Bell/Reader” My Bluebell” at one point. I had fell in love with this headcannon. Also Bluebells are just so fitting for Bell(not only because it contains the word bell and even looks like a bell). But Bluebells can symbolize of unwavering loyalty but also has connections to death(Bluebells are associated with death and mourning). They can also be associated with the fair folk(where they are associated with luring people alway and that if you hear a Bluebell ring, death soon follows)
💜💙🩵Thanks for Asking, and come back anytime to ask more💜💙🩵
#🌹rosie answers🌹#cod bell#call of duty bell#OC:Natalia”Bell”Novikov#call of duty cold war#cod black ops cold war#cod cold war
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(Reblogging to help out a mutual)
@lorvdz has done some amazing artwork of ocs, and has a whole lore of her own
haven’t been very active on tumblr since ive been hiking, n mountaineering<3
good news is,, i’ll be opening up commissions soon!! please do tell me if you’re interested since it’ll help me know how many people would like to commission me:3
-> lowkey even reblog or comment on this post to lmk so i dont turn into a nervous wreck thinking people don’t wanna commission me,, because,, yuh,,
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They liked some Adler photos made by a mutual of mine. I just followed them as they seem to like cod as well
Reblog to tell the previous person why you started following them & then why you're still following.
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Talofa pele! I'm just curious about your Bell OC interacting with my BO OC?
Named Koa Nikau! The Māori man!
What does she think of him?
Hi @islandtarochips, Good Question
Considering you mention that he was called to help out the Safehouse in 1981, it wouldn’t rule out that’s how Natalia and Koa meet.
I think Natalia would appreciate that Koa is a very honest man(save for his past). Something she finds a breath of fresh air. She would also appreciate how dutiful he is(considering Natalia is a very dutiful person herself)
💜💙🩵Thanks for Asking(sorry it took so long💜💙🩵 and come back anytime to ask more
#🌹friends of rosie🌹#🌹rosie answers🌹#OC:Natalia”Bell”Novikov#call of duty cold war#cod bell#call of duty bell
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Adler used to be a volunteer lifeguard during summers growing up in San Diego
If you ask me, it’s possible
#russell adler#call of duty#cod black ops cold war#call of duty cold war#black ops cold war#cod cold war#call of duty black ops#black ops 6#cod black ops 6
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When Natalia/Bell had the twins
(Warning: Mentions of birth and labor)
Natalia/Bell went into Labour around the middle of the night.
She woke up to Russell(who was sleeping) to tell him that it was time
He drove her to the hospital
Natalia spend the entire process screaming and cursing at him in both English and Russian(May have broken a few bones in Russell’s hand while holding it as well).
She nearly freaked out when they injected a epidural needle in her(to help out with labour pains) due to her fear of needles(Thanks Adler)
The Twins were born around morning into noon
Natalia held them first
One of her favorite sights was seeing Russell held them for the first time(even saw tears from his eyes and a smile but he would never admit to anyone else )
#russell adler x bell#call of duty cold war#cod black ops cold war#russell adler#cod bell#call of duty bell#cod cold war#black ops cold war#OC:Natalia”Bell”Novikov#adbell#adler x bell
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He is so beautiful 😍
trying to drawww🥴
Taglist [in/out]: @that1avian @gerdi-mitchell @mutant-okuri-inu @adlerdaduck @carlosoliveiraa
@tommyarashikage @alexxmason @nohimeren
@iamcautiouslyoptimistic @sergeiravenov @pricescigar @ladysouthpaw1213
@drug-overdose @guigz1-coldwar @kings-out-of-pocket-hell @lordskellington003
@fw-priyanshu @kylezkie4adler @ikenpachiizarakii @mygoldenmile
@vanessa3103 @septic-salad @whisperingexecutioner @altcvnningham
@elyseenmiel
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Hey, Rosie!! I thought it would be fun to make a moodboard for Natalia as a little gift since you're always doing your best to encourage others ♡(>ᴗ•) 🩵💙
Oh my💜💙🩵, Thank you so much @bluebellwren
I love that you choose Blue as well(Since that’s the color I tend to associate with her and with Bell in general). The images are also fitting for her as well
#🌹friends of rosie🌹#OC:Natalia”Bell”Novikov#call of duty cold war#cod bell#call of duty bell#cod black ops cold war#cod cold war#black ops cold war
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