a soldier on my own;

Phillip Moreno Tactical Strategies and Second in Command "I got ice in my veins, blood in my eyes, hate in my heart, and murder on my mind."

[tacticalmoreno-blog]

audrina-redford:

It was late and it was only then that Audrina felt safe enough to leave her room. The kitchen and dining area was dark, there was no life there and she felt safe. She moved quietly to the fridge, aiming for a mountain dew and some leftovers when music washed over the darkness. It was beautiful, soft and Audrina felt a smile rise up before she could stop it. 

Audrina could appreciate music, although she was never talented enough to play well. Her prodigy status did not move across all mediums. She followed the sound, expecting anyone else except who she found. The tension was gone from Phillip’s shoulders, it was almost like looking at a different man. She swore to herself to make sure they had a piano at every new place they moved to before she began to leave, not wanting to disturb Phillip. Fate seemed to have other plans as she ran into a small table, the objects on it clattering on the ground. “Fuck.” She didn’t look up, she couldn’t look at Phillip anymore.

The Swirvoski piano released a loud thrum, dark notes hit as his hands came crashing down upon the keys. The ebony instrument gleamed, but the pianist’s eyes did not. Phillip heaved a heavy sigh at the interruption. The calm that had resonated within him dispersed like light at the end of day.

There was nothing welcoming in the gaze that met her. “That’s a good way to put it.” The last interaction had left him angered and perhaps beaten. Her words had been insulting, even mocking his past as a soldier. It was unforgivable-- he was unforgiving. And he had threatened her as a result; a threat he planned to keep no matter the circumstance. “What the hell do you want? Here to make accusations? Rant about my mental health? Wait, no, you’re going to blame me for my PTSD; tell me I’m psychotic again and fail to explain what’s in my head. Because you’ve no fucking clue.”

[tacticalmoreno-blog]

blancherogers:

She was memorizing. The way his hair felt, dry but smooth at the same time. The way he smelled when she was this close to him, a faint scent of leftover alcohol and pencil shavings, probably from working too much. He barely took anytime to breathe, it was contagious. It was competitive, almost, how nearly frantic is was to not separate. Blanche had only known a few men and none of them had felt like this. This was longing in its rarest form. It wasn’t yearning for her, she knew. It was the craving to feel, or in Phillip’s case, to not feel anything but her, for only a moment. She wish she had a notepad to take notes.

His deep voice nearly shocked her. He usually had such a low, calm unsuspecting tone. This was bone chilling nearly growling from the back of his throat. She didn’t notice the waiter until she started to pull back and spotted a retreating figure. Absentmindedly, she laughed and buried her face in the crook of his shoulder. Almost felt safe. “Yes, sir,” she purred, if Blanche could actually pull off a seductive way of purring. She couldn’t and Phillip would pick it out in a second’s notice. Slowly, dragging it out and moving her body when not necessary, she moved off his lap and out of the bench, holding her hand out to him. “We’ll be hungry afterwards, we’ll finish my free dinner then.”

Her skin, warm beneath the pads of his fingertips, was nearly as tempting as the morphine that devoured his soul. She knew the temptation well, had once before managed to rein in his unwavering addiction. This, though, was a foreign drug; one of an entirely new caliber. It was more dangerous; with the sinister reasoning of another involved. Emotions Phillip was unaccustomed to, and ones he did not wish for Blanche to become attached to. Because this was nothing. They were nothing.

Her voice-- the way her response tilted-- may have once grated on his ears and disrupted his being, but now it only coerced a breath of laughter from him. His palms slid along her thighs as she moved away, leaving him seated alone in the bench he’d just learned much about the woman in. “What makes you think it’ll be free then?” Phillip inquired with a knowing smirk. Her outstretched hand was an offer that came with hesitation. Tentatively he reached, sliding fingers till they entwined with her own. And when he stood the same arm slipped over her head and across her shoulders, hand loosely intact with Blanche’s as Phillip directed them from the establishment.

[tacticalmoreno-blog]

It was a hushed whisper between secretive friends, a grain of sand caught in the wind. He could trade the crimson grime for a gleaming piano; put away the murderous nature and tap meticulous keys. The sound proved melodic, produced with the ease of practiced hands. As Phillip played, occasionally pausing the tune to scribble a new note upon his composing sheet, it was evident in his frame how much at ease he seemed. Tension faltered, and life for awhile seemed particularly calm.

[tacticalmoreno-blog]

PHILLIP MORENO AESTHETIC [1/?]

Courtesy of Me.

[tacticalmoreno-blog]

audrina-redford:

There it was. The unoriginal insult that everyone turned to first. Granted it came in variations but it was always a tear into the fact that she had to make sure everything had it’s place. It was like they thought she didn’t know how screwed up she was. They thought it was something to use against her when it was the reality she had accepted.  

“You know what? I’m not the one who can’t leave their pill bottle in their room. I’m not the one who refuses to accept that my PSTD might mean that I’m going to hurt one of my team members. My version of reality isn’t so warped that I can’t tell the difference between a threat and a goddamn wall!” Audrina was dropping facts that she shouldn’t have known, that she couldn’t have known if she hadn’t done a background check on every single member of their team. “You’re an idiot if you think Julian doesn’t need to know about this.”

The phrase could have been spelled out, and Phillip would have understood with the same clarity he did now. “How dare you.” No room for question. “I take that medication so I don’t harm any of you. My whole work is to protect you lot. Are you really scolding me for my condition? My reality is having to fear yourself and the numerous possibilities that come with post traumatic stress disorder. I could snap someone’s neck just because I see a damned traffic light. It’s suffocating, it deteriorates you. I try to sleep against a fucking wall because I can’t accept the fact I’m not in a country that wants to kill me. Do you know what a prisoner of war is? Fuck you. I was supposed to protect this country’s inhabitants and you’re a part of that country. Fuck you. I am a mentally and physically scarred, broken man that has to rely on medication to hopefully keep himself from psychotic episodes. Is there anything else you’d like to let me know that I’m not already painfully aware of? Consider yourself gone, Redford. I will make sure every little detail is there, unable to be fixed, right beneath your skin. I’m going to ruin you. You think your disorder is horrible now, wait till I get hold of it. You’re dead.”

[tacticalmoreno-blog]

audrina-redford:

Audrina shook her head to every question. She knew that she had no idea what Phillip was going through. Just like no one else knew what she went through on a daily basis. “No. No, I haven’t.” Audrina stared down at her feet, scuffing her toe. “But I’m the only one in this team that knows what being trapped in their head is like. You need to tell Julian.”

Phillip’s gaze was, for a moment, pensive. Then he snorted, figuring Audrina must have been rather blind to what her words gave way to. “Your intelligence is fucking faulty if you believe that. I’m spending an eternity in my head, Redford, but at least I don’t have a heart attack when a pencil is one centimeter crooked.” He was an entire breed of observant, the skill procured long ago and strengthened within the Special Forces. “Tell Julian? How grand. You don’t even know what it is, and it isn’t your business to suggest that.”

[tacticalmoreno-blog]

audrina-redford:

Audrina took a harsh breath in, taking a huge step back now. It turned out looks could kill, it murdered any bravery that she had. Her words had dimmed down to a mutter. Audrina wanted to go nurse her wounds, but she couldn’t just leave it at that. Her mouth was working before her brain could stop her. “At least I recognise the crazy that’s knocking around in my head.” 

Phillip paused upon his leave. His jaw set, charcoal soul swallowed. His frame turned back, figure leaving the window’s peering light behind him. “Have you ever been to war?” Forced down by the afghan heat. “Seen someone blown to pieces? Stared through a scope, put the bullet through a brain? If you’re about to question what lies in my head, perhaps you should read my file again.” 

[tacticalmoreno-blog]

blancherogers:

An innocent gesture was all she had offered. He had taken it and twisted it beyond what it originated from. Blanche made the tiniest of sounds, a quiet murmur that would easily fade into the background anywhere else. In her ears, it felt louder, a powerful noise. He tasted like anything but pain. His lips were sturdy against hers, an unfailing kiss that touched her to her core. It was the last motion she would’ve expected from him; she should learn eventually.

Instead of questioning like he had done, instead of pondering on the exact event that was happening, Blanche moved into the kiss, moving her hands against him, one caressing his jaw, and the other resting on his shoulder. It was the first time she had been allowed to connect with his body, physically. He was built well and that was all fine, but she reveled in the permission. Whether he was thinking clearly or not, it was him who had pulled her onto his lap and she fitted well, enough to raise goosebumps along her skin. She didn’t break away or try to speak, fearful of breaking the attachment. Instead she pressed her body closer to him, but didn’t dare match his intensity; she kept her kisses soft and sweet, but still permitted him to hold and caress her as roughly as he wanted. It was the type of person he was and Blanche had wanted nothing but to learn how he worked, she didn’t dare want to try and change anything.

Phillip couldn’t help but grow tense as her frame was pressed closer. He hadn’t expected her to kiss him back. He moved instinctively at first, willingly taking her warm lips into his. His mind, lost, could not relish the chance to process the occurence. Even when he realized the nature of what they were doing, he didn’t want to bring the kiss to a halt. His mouth did not leave hers for too long; the ex soldier unable to fathom the action. He felt breathless and lifeless, mind void of senseless destruction for the rarest of occasions. His lips had molded against her own in a way that was foreign, as anytime in the past his lips pressed against another’s happened to be in the midst of a drunken fervor. He’d never been able to touch another willingly. Phillip let her touch remain, his own hand still tangled within silky locks. Her entire being was toxic.

His fingers were brushing the beginnings of velvet skin at her waistline before the waiter most conveniently arrived. The appearance was unwelcome, and in response to the presence came a vicious wolf's gaze. The kiss shattered. Phillip's grip upon Blanche's hip became bruising, unbeknownst to him, as he sent his prey scurrying with nothing but a look. "We can't continue this. Not here."

[tacticalmoreno-blog]

blancherogers:

Of all things that could be said for Blanche Rogers, she was no actress. The second he called her a liar the shine in her eyes returned and she sat up straight, attempting to match his height– failing, to no one’s surprise. “Well, I’m not taking my apology back,” she grumbled, “it’s yours now. Take care of it.” There was no grudge left lingering in his stare and she was relieved, glad to not have chased him off yet. Blanche felt a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach and despite his constant berating, she only felt her fondness for him grow. It was anyone’s guess how long it would take for him to go mad in her company. Like many of the decisions she made, she didn’t think about her next one; she leaned over and kissed his cheek, a simple chaste touch, sure he had never known anything like it.

“No, it would be out of character if you did.” Phillip replied, silently still arguing his case over the apology. He waited for the next pointless phrase to leave her lips, but all he caught was movement. His brows furrowed as she leaned forward. “Rogers what are you--” doing. He should have been livid. Should have had narrowed eyes and a sharp-tongued remark. He remained stoic. His thumb traced the outline of her chin as he leaned further in.

The kiss obliterated him. As if they’d done this many times before, his lips caressed hers, though there was no serenity within the action. It was rough, maybe even reckless and verging on war before the fallout. He would have tipped the table if it weren’t for the bolted-down booth. Wrapping an arm beneath Blanche’s thighs he gave her a quick pull from where she’d leant forward, only to bring her onto his lap. Phillip knew he was in the wrong; knew that everything he was doing was wrong. Somewhere within the depths of his mind a phantom voice was summoning a banshee, but not loud enough to bring a fatal end. Phillip tried not to focus on the fact that his hands raked through her hair, that this kiss- to him- tasted like a sin worth sinning. Because this person was not him, and this person just wanted to leave the world and its antics behind. He let a hand drop to Blanche’s waist, fingertips grazing the fabric of her shirt. He kissed her as if it would heal him; somehow transform him into the person before the ruin.

[tacticalmoreno-blog]

audrina-redford:

Audrina felt her heart thudding against her chest, she was almost sure that Phillip could hear it. “Probability isn’t affected by what has happened already happened. Basic logic. Surely you of all people would know that.” She was playing with fire now, she knew it. And Audrina’s flight instinct was better than her fight. “You don’t frighten me, Moreno.” She declared, despite everything she had read about him. Audrina knew she was better as an asset than an enemy for this team. None of them seemed to know that though and she was having a damn hard time proving it with the threats and insults they kept throwing around.

Wolf’s teeth-- those were what Phillip Moreno flashed. Stark, sharp, fangs with deep scarlet-stained tales. Enemies saw them last, felt them rip into throats and tear into souls. “Is that why you have to say it aloud?” He inquired through those white fangs. “Because if you truly weren’t afraid, your mind is the only place you’d need speak it.” He straightened then, raised his bruised fist back to his own studying gaze as he turned to leave. “I suppose you are more like Hannibal than I. After all, he was afraid.”

[tacticalmoreno-blog]

blancherogers:

She scoffed, going to mirror his position of crossed arms before she realized what she was doing– and throwing her arms to the side, taking a moment to collect herself. He was doing what he does best: pushing people away. He was winning. Blanche had never been so thrown off her course and it agitated her. Unlike most, who would let the frustration get to them, she turned it around and let it lull her into being calm. “I hope it doesn’t stay that way,” she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, the sounds of the food being made in the back louder than her. Blanche wanted him to have to try and listen. “I don’t think you’re special. I think you’re a normal guy who deserves to have someone care for him. That’s all.” Staring at the table, picking at specs that didn’t exist, Blanche let the words stand between them on their own. Anger wouldn’t reach to him. He knew that emotion too well. The woman looked back up at him, without a smile, so unlike her, but still gentle in her expression. “Thank you for dinner, Phillip. I’m sorry I made you sorry to come out with me. I won’t make you do it again.” Lie. Total lie.

How could it not? The word ‘stay’ was immobile for such a conquest. “I’ve lived a long time without someone’s care,” he gritted out, “and I sure as hell don’t need it now.” And finally, he’d done it. Blanche Rogers was quiet. A fact and action that made him oddly uncomfortable. When her mouth parted he had to strain to listen-- something he’d never have done before. His eyes may have drifted off into what remained of his sane nothingness, but he was listening. Phillip retrained dark-lit orbs upon her. No smile, just a woman reborn in the worst of ways. “I don’t want your apology,” he exhaled through a heavy sigh, “there’s nothing to apologize for. And you’re a liar-- we both know you’ll make me do this a thousand times over. Now smile, will you? I’m the only one who can pull off that damper look.”

[tacticalmoreno-blog]

blancherogers:

The volume change in his voice didn’t frighten her, like he obviously wanted it to. He wanted his words to change her mind, change her opinion of him. Blanche assumed he knew it would be a hell of a lot tougher than that. “It was sarcasm,” she clarified first, keeping eye contact with the man, not giving him the satisfaction of dropping her eyes. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy who wishes in the first place. And for the record,” Blanche turned her body all the way towards him, a rant revving up in her chest, “being like you: not so bad. I know, I know, you think you’re the worst and devil’s gift to mankind– but you’re not. You may be a massive ass at times, but you have everyone’s respect. You know how to get a job done and if you think you’re fooling anybody by pretending not to care about anything, you’re more of an idiot than you think you are. No one is a stone wall, buddy. Not even a precious thing like you.” She gave him one last hard look, daring him to challenge her words (he would), before turning her body back forward and shrugging, trying not to seem as affected as she was. “I’ll have what you’re having.”

“Mine wasn’t.” Even Blanche’s sarcasm was one dialect he didn’t trust. He was the gun in Russian roulette, and she the bullet to his brain. Unlike that wicked game, however, the bullet didn’t leave a dark crimson outcome. Here she was now; pulling the trigger. Phillip folded his arms across his chest and leaned into the seat’s backing. He could only wait, jaw clenched and stoic, gaze unwavering. “I’m a fortress,” he corrected as she took her breath, “and you know little about me. And it will stay that way.” The devil would avoid a gift like him. “And when I’m dead-- with only you and Julian possibly at the funeral-- it will still stay that way.” As it should be. No one to bury him by. No, just incinerate him, let his ashes fall like snow. “You’ve really made me regret this outing. But we both knew that would happen, didn’t we? Fucking hell, Rogers, just let me loathe myself for eternity. Quit trying to make me out to be something so god damn special.”

[tacticalmoreno-blog]

blancherogers:

“I beg to differ,” she sung, though he already knew she would. Nearly everything about him piqued some sort of curiosity from her; from an eyebrow raise, to a frown, to a snarky comment, to a leak of personal background information he’d let go of every now and again. The dim lights in the Thai place adjusted easy to her eyes, giving her time to aim a planted smirk at Phillip. “Is that what got me a free dinner, then? I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” Blanche already was making plans for a next time, further confirming his wondering. Why did there always have to be a reason, a why, for him? Couldn’t he live and let live? “Because you’re the baddest of the bad and I want to become like you,” she answered as if there was a question mark at the end of his statement, before huffing and rolling her eyes. “Because I like you, Phillip,” she said seriously this time as he choose a booth, Blanche sliding in next to him, “and don’t ask me why I like you either.” He wouldn’t want to ask her. She might actually tell him.

I’m sure you do. Phillip only spared a nod toward the hostess before obtaining a menu and progressing past the podium. He was, after all, a regular. Not a regular with a date that this no doubt appeared to be. Taking his usual seat within the corner booth he set the single laminated menu opposite of him upon the table. A regular didn’t need to procrastinate with a menu. “There won’t be a next time.” The reply came swift and firm, tone void of any care or open for challenge. “You don’t want to be like me,” the man turned serious, brows furrowed and voice slightly grave, “being like me is not something I’d wish for you.” Nothing to be proud of, just damaged bones and frozen veins. “You don’t want my scars.” Physical and mental, tormented and lattice. “Now hurry up and pick something so we can order when the waiter arrives.”

[tacticalmoreno-blog]

audrina-redford:

Audrina gritted her teeth, lifting her chin, staring right back at Phillip. It was just like dealing with a normal guy, the ones that decided they were better than her. She could handle this. “I have a reason. If you miss something on a job, we all go down. So it’s my business if you’re not functioning to the best of your ability.”

The ex soldier smirked. “If I miss something?” He could have bit back the dark chuckle rising from his chest. “Interesting words for such a new addition. Tell me, how many missions have I run? How many were successful?” All of them. Phillip leaned closer, eyes another darker shade, “I’d choose my next words very, very carefully, or you might discover who’s truly more like Hannibal between the two of us.”

[tacticalmoreno-blog]

blancherogers:

He didn’t care about her dreams. He didn’t care about her feelings. He did, however, think her face was gorgeous. Blanche had to catch herself from not responding with an overwhelming amount of shock. She stayed cool – amazingly, first time for everything – and let him drive, the helmet not quite fitting but doing its job. It wasn’t long before they arrived at the Thai place, the scent making Blanche happier than she’d been all day. She quickly let her arms fall, having noticed the momentarily freeze in his body back at the garage, and took the helmet off, letting her hair fly out everywhere. “God,” she began, staring at the bike, “I was already astonished at the bike, but you can drive too. What other secrets you got hidden?” She waggled her eyebrows at him to assure him she was teasing; never knew when she was going to hit a sensitive spot. She really should be more careful with the guy. But when he tried so hard not to impress her, he did the exact opposite. Naturally, the blame was on him.

The route had been mapped the day of their arrival, and thus had been firmly imprinted and filed within his head. Rush hour had also been a simple fix as the sleek vehicle could maneuver with ease throughout a road’s standstill pileup. Once his helm was relinquished Phillip tucked it beneath his left arm. “Nothing of interest to you.” But everything would interest her; a situation he tempted to avoid at all costs. He replied to following statements with a shake of his head and steady gate toward the restaurant’s entryway, where he promptly opened the door and ushered Blanche inside. “Your compliments earned you a free dinner.” You would’ve paid regardless, his conscience remarked. “Still not certain why you’d want to spend your time with me. Bad call on your part, naturally.”

[altraviolence]

I said: I could be a wolf for you. I could put my teeth on your throat. I could growl. I could eat you whole. I could wait for you in the dark. I could howl against your hair.

catherynne m. valente,

the bread we eat in dreams

(via

altraviolence

)

[tacticalmoreno-blog]

blancherogers:

“Maybe we’re different, in every single way,” she drawled, her accent slightly escaping as she walked alongside him, barely noticing when he held the door our for her, “but our worlds are currently the same.” And if it wasn’t obvious Phillip was at the top, she wasn’t going to be the one to tell him. Blanche watched with interested eyed as the tarp was removed. She nearly let out a purr at the sight, but held back and only let a small ‘mm’ sound escape. She would be embarrassed, but Blanche had never hidden her admiration for a gorgeous vehicle and everyone on the team knew that about her. He should take it as a compliment. “I probably have a helmet in one of my bags, but that’s upstairs. I’ll take the extra.” The brunette all but hopped onto the bike behind him, thinking nothing of resting her arms on his waist, ready to wrap around him when he started the bike. “Safety first,” she grinned behind his shoulder, always hoping her next smile would be contagious to him.

Phillip scoffed. Of course they were different. There was no one in the entire universe he’d ever relate to. He caught her interest regarding his bike in silence. At least it meant no one had been snooping around his things, as she clearly hadn’t come in contact with it before this swell event. He retrieved the final helmet with an outstretched arm, leaning back from the table once the identical item was within his grasp. “It isn’t going to fit perfectly,” he relayed while passing it back over his shoulder, “but at least your gorgeous face won’t get marred if you hit the pavement, right?” He shut the visor, smirk hidden by its tint and lost to the outside world. Arms encased him. The key paused within the ignition, and Phillip momentarily stiffened. The contact wasn’t welcome to him, but it was necessary for something like this. He breathed once. Twice. Then turned the key and turned the throttle.