#warfared

[deathmimedream]

I’m officially older today. Another trip around the sun. Go me!

[iomadachd]

@warfared asked: “It doesn’t have anything to do with trust. You don’t have to tell me. But I’ll listen, if you do.” ( aurora > phantom )

Noticing Trauma sentence starters (accepting)

Phantom kicks their feet back and forth, legs dangling where they're sat on an equipment case. It's not ideal, but it's away from the hustle and bustle of setup.

They tip their head down to look at her over top of their sunglasses, tail twitching in distress before stilling again.

They want to tell her. They want to talk about it, but they're not ready. They're not sure they ever will be.

"Mm, it's enough you sit with me, 'Rora. What would I do without my summ'ning bestie?"

[bearstruck]

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

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

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

[pseudowar-archived]

Anyone who had the (dis)pleasure of meeting Gary 'Roach' Sanderson in the morning were often subjected to one of the few warnings and life lessons regarding him: he was not a morning person. Sure, he was pleasant to talk to, and he eventually did perk up as the minutes ticked by. Awareness coming to dark eyes, lighting up often a very grumpy face, as coffee filled an empty stomach - but that took time, and he hadn't had enough of it that day.

Point proven in the way he blinks bleary eyed at Gaz's clear cheerful mood. The recognition not quite reaching his eyes until the other man sat down across from him - their feet and shins knocking together thanks to his semi-slouched position - and even then, his features didn't quite light up. Usual perkiness muted by a late night and even later morning - a mission that had run too late, and a heli ride that had been too cramped for even him to sleep through it.

Roach stretches in his seat, rolls his head tiredly, and then hums a quiet hello. One hand running across tired eyes as the other scratches at momentarily exposed stomach - at a line of dark fuzz that trailed from his belly button downwards. And then? A jaw cracking yawn, followed soon by a silent, signed greeting. 'Morning Kyle.' He pushes himself upright. 'I miss anything fun?'

@warfared ; ROACH for GAZ starter call

[hacker-codeq]

@warfared starter for Gaz

It wasn't frequent that they had guests in MI6, at least not in Q-Branch, but today seemed to be a day for the unusual. A highly regretted coffee in Q's hand proved that. He set the cup down on his desk after a couple of sips and wondered why anyone liked it. He was contemplating just disposing of it before any of his staff noticed when he heard someone open the door.

"Ah, good morning. You must be Kyle Garrick... Sergeant Garrick?" He checked, moving to type quickly on his laptop to pull up the files he had been sent. "Excellent. Lovely to meet you, I'm Q."

[pseudolife-archived3]

Dirk is... Pretty, for a man of his damage. Not pretty enough for her standards, but pretty enough for the average person's. Blond curls and big green eyes, and shoulders broad and built well enough to carry all his trauma. He was more than a damaged little thing, he was cracked. Right down the middle. All of his existence raw and open and painful, an exposed nerve to a world that wanted nothing more than to pluck at it. Twist it between rough hands, and make him sing for it.

Fujiko liked that. She didn't like the dog, or the way he looked twitchy sometimes, like a pathetic little thing looking for it's next fix, but she liked him. She liked how malleable he was, how pliant, how she didn't need to use sex to get anything from him - no, all she needed was to make him look good, and the rewards came pouring in like a heavy April rain.

"Dirk, darling," And as always, Fujiko starts soft, gentle, voice somehow clear despite that, so that he could hear her. "If they bother you so much, allow me to answer the phone from now on. I can woo a mother as easily as I could a father."

@warfared ; FUJIKO for DIRK starter call

[tooxldtorememxer]

@warfared wrote: ❛  let's be normal. see bad movies, sneak a beer, and watch tv.  ❜ ( aurora > cory )

( Text: Aurora ) Frankly, I don’t think we have to sneak anything. ( Text: Aurora ) But sure?