ʜᴇʀᴏ ᴏғ ᴡᴀʀ ;;

yeah, that's what i'll be. and when i come home, they'll be damn proud of me. [ indie mw3 rp blog. ] sidebar & icon by AzureNaddou m!a: ---

[sergeantunderwood-archive-blog]

"You didn’t see anything. You were imagining it, kid. That’s alright, I mean, a lot of guys go through this kind of bullshit…"

Slowly rests his hand on the soldier’s shoulder, smiling at him with a tilt of his head.

"You wouldn’t want an innocent soldier getting shot because you were seeing shit that wasn’t real, right?"

[derekwestbrook]

Heavy breathing, mouth opening but no real words coming out.

  Sounds sorta like he's having a lot of trouble processing any thought.

        "W-What--           No-- It was real! I'm not crazy--             I'm not crazy! I haven't even been in the military t-that long--"

[sergeantunderwood-archive-blog]

Stops completely, stares the soldier directly in the eyes.

"You weren’t meant to see that. At all. You don’t say a fucking word about this to anyone or I will stick that ‘doohickey’ up your fucking ass."

[derekwestbrook]

Frozen in fear. Literally.

  His eyes are starting to dry out from being so wide.

        "You had a-- a thingy-- a t-tentacle-- coming out of your body--"

[sergeantunderwood-archive-blog]

"Guys— Guys I just found out I can—" Points at the tendril coming from his body and squirming, wriggling, the evolved excitedly bouncing at the sight of the biomass protruding and writhing like it was living. "Oh this is gonna be so much fun!"

[derekwestbrook]

        "That's terrifying--           I don't want that doohickey anymore you can ah--"

<8(

        "You can keep it--"

[derekwestbrook]

Loudly hums the 'Jaws' theme whilst trying to sneak up behind him.

… Stops….  … Squints….

SPINS AROUND.  STARE.

[onelastsummertimesadness-deacti]

Abruptly stops humming. 

"…"

Stands in place and stares back.

[derekwestbrook]

  Awkward.

        "...... Hey."

[derekwestbrook]

Loudly hums the 'Jaws' theme whilst trying to sneak up behind him.

... Stops....  ... Squints....

SPINS AROUND.  STARE.

[derekwestbrook]

Leaning in, he roughly kisses the soldier on the lips, even if it's a bit messy and their noses bump. After a few seconds into it, he ends up biting down and hard on the other man's lower lip, drawing blood quickly.

  Holy fucking shit—    No— NO—

The heat of his face is almost as quickly drawn as the blood, the crimson liquid rushing from his bottom lip and dripping from his chin, already staining his uniform. Staring, his vision is red from either rage or embarrassment, hands trembling.

  God, that tastes horrible.

[russiankingfish]

His hold on his gun tightened a bit when his eyes went back to the knife and he saw it was pointed at him still, squinting at the sight of the blood on it. Slowly his brows furrowed and his lips curved downwards to the point he was scowling, not liking the sight of his own blood that much. 

"You are whining then. Whining like a child. I can see why the fact you cut me after I bit you isn’t enough for you. You are nothing but a small child in a soldier’s uniform.” 

[derekwestbrook]

        "So, are you insulting me because I'm an American, now?"

Derek gave an unsatisfied scoff, rolling his eyes and glancing quickly to the gun the terrorist held. After a moment more of contemplating a reasonable plan, he lunged forward, thrusting the blade towards the man's torso and praying to God he hit.

[derekwestbrook]

Leaning in, he roughly kisses the soldier on the lips, even if it's a bit messy and their noses bump. After a few seconds into it, he ends up biting down and hard on the other man's lower lip, drawing blood quickly.

  Holy fucking shit—    No— NO—

The heat of his face is almost as quickly drawn as the blood, the crimson liquid rushing from his bottom lip and dripping from his chin, already staining his uniform. Staring, his vision is red from either rage or embarrassment, hands trembling.

  God, that tastes horrible.

[russiankingfish]

Makarov took a slow step forwards, moving away from the knife as he did so. He sent it a mere glance before looking down at the other man with a raised brow.

"How do you Americans reply to things like this? ‘Make me’ was it?" The Ultranationalist rolled his eyes at the phrase as it came out, thinking of it as rather childish, though the other man was being even more childish than that at the moment. "You are crying over a small bite."

[derekwestbrook]

        "I'm not crying, and it wasn't a small bite!"

He snapped, gritting his teeth and curling his fingers around the handle of the knife more and more, flexing them and following the man's movements with every small step.

        "Why don't you just give up already?           You're gonna die in the end, anyway."

[derekwestbrook]

Leaning in, he roughly kisses the soldier on the lips, even if it's a bit messy and their noses bump. After a few seconds into it, he ends up biting down and hard on the other man's lower lip, drawing blood quickly.

  Holy fucking shit—    No— NO—

The heat of his face is almost as quickly drawn as the blood, the crimson liquid rushing from his bottom lip and dripping from his chin, already staining his uniform. Staring, his vision is red from either rage or embarrassment, hands trembling.

  God, that tastes horrible.

[russiankingfish]

The slice through his arm made him hiss in pain, his hand going to his side instead of his arm. Within a few movements, a M9 was drawn, pointing at the man in front of him.

"Do not tell me to shut up! You Americans are so…confusing." He muttered, rolling his eyes. "Such a huge reaction over a little kiss."

[derekwestbrook]

Staring at the blood stained steel of the knife, Frost caught a glimpse of the gun and immediately froze, somehow able to keep his weapon in his grasp despite how terrified he was.

  He was a soldier.     He could do this.       Just don’t look at the gun and it’ll be fine.

        “Shut. Up. You fucking bit me, douchebag!”

[derekwestbrook]

Leaning in, he roughly kisses the soldier on the lips, even if it's a bit messy and their noses bump. After a few seconds into it, he ends up biting down and hard on the other man's lower lip, drawing blood quickly.

  Holy fucking shit—    No— NO—

The heat of his face is almost as quickly drawn as the blood, the crimson liquid rushing from his bottom lip and dripping from his chin, already staining his uniform. Staring, his vision is red from either rage or embarrassment, hands trembling.

  God, that tastes horrible.

[russiankingfish]

His anger overpowered any other sense, even with the knife now pulled out and he ended up swinging once more, pausing when he noted the sharp blade between them. He stared at it, his fist still raised and aimed for the other man’s jaw.

"Oh, you want to bring toys into this?"

[derekwestbrook]

With the last swing and the man's words, Derek brought the blade up with hopes of it ripping through the other's forearm, a sneer on his face.

        "Shut up!"

[derekwestbrook]

Leaning in, he roughly kisses the soldier on the lips, even if it's a bit messy and their noses bump. After a few seconds into it, he ends up biting down and hard on the other man's lower lip, drawing blood quickly.

  Holy fucking shit—    No— NO—

The heat of his face is almost as quickly drawn as the blood, the crimson liquid rushing from his bottom lip and dripping from his chin, already staining his uniform. Staring, his vision is red from either rage or embarrassment, hands trembling.

  God, that tastes horrible.

[russiankingfish]

Now, he’s actually a bit surprised, taking the hit in the process. A small grunt came from him when it landed, and he raised his hand moments later, pushing the arm away from him. He touches his mouth for just a few seconds, and within the next few he’s swinging at Frost now, blinded with rage.

[derekwestbrook]

The hit hurt his knuckles quite a bit, and as he shook his hand, the soldier glanced to Makarov, letting out a yelp and quickly ducking to try and get away.

  Fuck--

His first instinct, however, was to pull the knife from its holster on his belt, holding it up and narrowing his gaze on the terrorist once more.

[derekwestbrook]

Leaning in, he roughly kisses the soldier on the lips, even if it's a bit messy and their noses bump. After a few seconds into it, he ends up biting down and hard on the other man's lower lip, drawing blood quickly.

  Holy fucking shit—    No— NO—

The heat of his face is almost as quickly drawn as the blood, the crimson liquid rushing from his bottom lip and dripping from his chin, already staining his uniform. Staring, his vision is red from either rage or embarrassment, hands trembling.

  God, that tastes horrible.

[russiankingfish]

Pulls back, raising a brow at the others face, his eyes flicking down to the wound and blood seconds later. After a second, he leaned in, kissing and licking some of the blood before moving away once more. "What is that face for? Don’t you Americans kiss on the first day of a year?"

[derekwestbrook]

  Okay.     No more bullshit.

Frost glares, raising a hand to wipe his face whilst his other clenches into a fist. After a second of mindlessly staring, he swings, aiming to hit the Russian right in the mouth.

[derekwestbrook]

Leaning in, he roughly kisses the soldier on the lips, even if it's a bit messy and their noses bump. After a few seconds into it, he ends up biting down and hard on the other man's lower lip, drawing blood quickly.

  Holy fucking shit--    No-- NO--

The heat of his face is almost as quickly drawn as the blood, the crimson liquid rushing from his bottom lip and dripping from his chin, already staining his uniform. Staring, his vision is red from either rage or embarrassment, hands trembling.

  God, that tastes horrible.

[derekwestbrook]

LEGAL NAME: Derek Westbrook

NICKNAME[S]: Frost

DATE OF BIRTH: ██.██.19██

GENDER | SPECIES: Male | Human

PLACE OF BIRTH: ████████

CURRENT LIVING CONDITIONS: On base, somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

SPOKEN LANGUAGES: English, very little Russian.

EDUCATION: ██████ University

CRIMINAL RECORD: N/A

DRINK | SMOKE | DRUGS:  N/A

LIKE[S]: Shooting fireworks, being out on missions, training.

DISLIKE[S]: Lots of things.

FEAR[S]: Losing his entire team and all his friends. Makarov.

PERSONALITY TRAITS: Childish, loyal, funny. Brave, strong, goal-setter.

{ P H Y S I C A L   I N F O R M A T I O N }

HAIR COLOR: Dirty blonde.

EYE COLOR: Blue.

HEIGHT: ██

WEIGHT: ██

TATTOOS: N/A

{ F A M I L Y   I N F O R M A T I O N }

SIBLING[S]: — Older brother named Chandler who was killed in a car crash when Derek was 14.

PARENT[S]: — ██████ & ██████ Westbrook

CHILDREN: — None.

PETS[S]: — None.

{ R E L A T I O N S H I P   I N F O R M A T I O N }

SEXUAL PREFERENCE: ████████

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single.

SINCE WHEN: .... Forever.

[russiankingfish]

“You are the one making this harder than it needs to be. Anyways, Frost, isn’t my blood being spilled your goal?”

Slow steps were taken to the side, though his eyes focused on the other man’s. The movement of the weapon in the American’s hands made him focus his gun directly on the other man’s chest once more, and even his walking stopped. "This is only going to end in two ways. We walk away or both of us go down.”

[derekwestbrook]

  Shit.     Short range like this, a bullet would completely rip through his vest.

Keeping his sights set specifically on Makarov, Frost took a slow and steady step back, shaking his head. He had the opportunity to show the guys what he was made of... But also lose his own life trying to prove that he was a good soldier.

        "I'm not walkin' away. If I go down, I s-swear to God I'll take you with me."

[beautyqueensoldier-deactivated2]

Letting out a small hum, the brunette lent against the wall with her arms across her chest. Her green orbs glanced over a few soldiers, smiling to herself as she did so. 

Seems to be yet another boring day. 

She continued to scan the others before settling her gaze on very familiar face. "Yo Frost!" She called out, using her hand to beckon him over.

[derekwestbrook]

In a deep and somewhat intelligent, but not really, conversation with Archer and Truck, Frost heard the woman's voice call him over and he squinted a bit in her direction. Looking back to the guys, he sighed, gave a small goodbye, and slowly walked over to Texas, blinking.

        "Yeah?"

[soul-swapper]

   She gave a smile, glad to see he seemed at least a bit relieved at her not sending him off.

     ”Oh? That’s an interesting name, Mr. Frost!” She perked up a bit, smiling widely.

[derekwestbrook]

        "Yeah, I guess so. I'm not even sure why they started callin' me that.           It was probably 'cause I tend to handle colder weather better than warm."

[soul-swapper]

      “Oh, no! It’s perfectly fine. In fact, I’m glad! It’s been about… four months since I’ve seen anyone else besides my partner.. Work does take a lot out of my social life.”

     She let out a soft, embarrassed giggle. 

  “My name is Dororo.. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

[derekwestbrook]

Derek let out a relieved sigh.

  So, he didn't have to go back out into the open and face Sandman yet.     Good.       Skipping training wasn't all that smart.

        "Derek 'Frost' Westbrook. Everyone calls me Frost, though.           It's a pleasure to meet you, too."