Reblogged
Russell Adler gets haunted by his ex wife(Fia), impossible challenge
Got requested by @ladysouthpaw1213 to draw Svetlana
Reblogged mutant-okuri-inu
reblog if you want your followers to tell you what vibe you give off based on your blog
Reblogged
Title: August is here. Trigger Warning(s): Violent imagery, violence
She hears it before she sees it. Low whispers slithering through the cracks in the walls, curling in the corners of the room like cigarette smoke. Soft at first. Muttering. Then, hissing. It always happens- when August comes. The air thickens. The sun bleeds into autumn. And she feels it all over again. The way he left. The way he never looked back. The way the world continued to spin while she stood frozen in place, crawling out of hell to prove her worth. To be seen.Fia Elena Graves is not well. She knows it. It knows. It unhinges its jaws. She knows. It watches her. It’s sharpening its claws. She knows. It whispers about her. It’s licking its fangs. She knows. She is dying. She’ll be slaughtered. Not from disease. Not from bullets. Not from her son's cries. But from it. The way it gnaws at her bones, digs under her fingernails, carves its initials into her skin, repeatedly piercing its fingernails into her flesh, clawing its way out of her throat. The way it loops, over and over, and over again— showing her the same scenes again and again, and again. Adler walking away. Phillip looking at her with eyes too much like his father’s. Livingston watching her like a vulture watches a wounded animal. Cristina’s sneer, that rotten thing, mocking her—wanting to be her—stealing from her. The Pantheon, their faceless hands clawing at her throat. It never stops. Even now, as she sits in her office, staring at the blank, expressionless wall. God where are you now? That voice. Low. Raspy. Familiar. 'Fia.' Her head snaps up. No one is there. She laughs. It’s hollow. Wrong. It's wrong. A sound she doesn’t recognize. Who are you? She stands. Her legs feel weak. Her body feels like it doesn’t belong to her anymore. It's rejecting her. 'Who are you?' Something else is wearing her skin, moving her hands, blinking her eyes. Something’s alive beneath her skin. it's breathing in her lungs. Her breath comes in short gasps. There’s something inside her chest, clawing at her ribs, trying to get out. The walls are breathing. The room is too small. She sees him. Adler. Standing in the doorway. Just like before. Just like that night. She reaches for him— but her hands go through air. He isn’t real. He never was. Like she is. Like she has been for years. Fia clutches her temples, nails digging into her scalp, trying to pull herself back—trying to remember where she is, who she is, what she is. But it’s too late. The voices are laughing. The shadows are moving. The door is open. August is here.
-> I'm actually quite proud of this fic, and I'm lowkey gonna say that this is the opening to Fia- as in this fic is an introduction to her character :3
Reblogs are super appreciated on this one!
Reblogged
The rain came down in sheets, soaking the earth beneath their feet, drenching the graveyard in something heavier than water. It seeped into the cracks of the headstones, into the folds of his coat, into the spaces between his fingers where her hand should have been. Russell Adler stood motionless, cigarette limp between his lips, embers glowing against the cold. His breath shook. It shouldn’t have been this. It should have been her. Fia Elena Graves had always been something untouchable, something larger than life—like a storm, like a prayer, like a promise that could never break. But even gods could fall. And she had fallen. There was no one left beside him. No Phillip. No Vivienne. No old ghosts lingering in the shadows. Just the sound of the rain beating down and the weight of the world pressing against his chest. He hadn’t spoken to her in years. Not since they had torn themselves apart—divorce papers, a final cigarette, a bed that was too empty too soon. And still. Still. When he closes his eyes, he swears he can still hear her—laughing, whispering, begging. "Am I too ugly for you to stay?" "Tell me, Adler. Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me this isn't the end of us." "Please, just stay." He had never answered her. Not really. Because the truth was, he had never been able to say no to her. Not when she was sixteen and full of fire, challenging him like she could bend him with just a glance. Not when she was nineteen, cradling their newborn son, looking at him like he was her whole world. Not when she was twenty-six, standing in their empty house, cigarette in hand, watching as he walked out of the door. Not even now. Russell Adler swallowed hard, his fingers trembling as he reached into his pocket. Inside was a crushed pack of her cigarettes. He had quit years ago. He hadn’t smoked in decades. But as he pulled one out and placed it between his lips, he thought maybe—just this once—he could break his rules. For her. For Fia. For the only woman who had ever truly known him. The flame flickered, catching on the tip of the cigarette, burning like the memories he would never be able to bury. Smoke curled between his lips as he whispered, just loud enough for the dead to hear— "I'm your man."
what if another universe Mallory bagged a baddie @lorvdz
Reblogged
Texas, 1960
The sun was blazing down on the sprawling ranch as a dry breeze rolled across the endless expanse of Texan land. Adler adjusted the brim of his hat, his sharp blue eyes scanning the horizon with quiet appreciation. He wasn’t used to this kind of openness—he had spent most of his life bouncing between deployments or growing up in San Diego, California. The wide Texas sky was a far cry from any jungle or crowded street he’d known.
“Russell, hurry up!” his father barked, waving him toward the ranch house.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” Adler muttered, trailing behind as he tugged his sleeves up. Sweat dampened the collar of his shirt, but he couldn’t deny there was something refreshing about the untamed energy of this place.
At the ranch’s grand entrance, a tall man with a commanding presence waited—Mr. Graves, a friend of Adler’s father from the war. His firm handshake spoke volumes about the kind of man he was: solid, proud, and no-nonsense. The two older men fell into conversation almost immediately, leaving Russell to nod along politely.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, Russell caught a flash of movement near the corral. A young woman was perched on the fence, her long, sunlit blonde hair tumbling past her shoulders like a golden river. She wasn’t wearing the delicate lace or frills he might have expected from a Southern belle—her jeans were dusty, her boots scuffed, and her shirt slightly wrinkled. Yet she carried herself with the kind of grace and confidence that turned his stomach inside out.
“Excuse me,” Adler said absentmindedly, stepping away from the conversation without a second thought.
The closer he got, the more the details came into focus: her fair complexion glowed under the sun, her blue eyes sparkling like deep ocean waves as she focused on the bull in the pen. The creature was massive and temperamental, its nostrils flaring as it kicked at the dirt. Most people would’ve stayed far away, but not her. She leaned forward on the fence, talking to the animal in a soft, soothing tone.
“Careful. That thing could gore you,” Adler said, his voice casual but tinged with genuine concern.
She turned her head sharply, startled by his sudden presence. Her blue eyes locked onto him, and for a moment, Adler felt like he’d been caught under a spotlight.
“I don’t plan on giving him the chance,” she quipped, her Texan accent honeyed and smooth. There was a lightheartedness to her tone, but her sharp gaze appraised him like she wasn’t one to be easily impressed.
Adler smirked. “You’re braver than me. I’d steer clear of that guy.”
She smiled then, and it was like the sun had dimmed in comparison. “I don’t think we’ve met. You’re one of the Boshaws?”
He shook his head, stepping closer. “Russell Adler. My father’s here visiting Mr. Graves.”
Her expression softened, recognition dawning on her. “You’re Adler’s boy? Daddy mentioned you’d be coming.” She extended her hand, her grip surprisingly firm. “I’m Fia. Fia Graves.”
“Nice to meet you, Fia.” Her name felt familiar, like something he should’ve known all his life.
Her eyes flicked toward the bull again. “Don’t mind ol’ Titan there. He’s all bark, no bite.”
Adler raised an eyebrow. “Looks like he’s got plenty of bite to me.”
Fia laughed, and the sound was melodic, completely disarming. “You just gotta know how to handle him. Watch.”
Before Adler could protest, Fia climbed off the fence and slipped into the pen. His heart jumped into his throat as she approached the massive beast with a confidence that bordered on reckless. Titan stomped his hooves, glaring at her like he was ready to charge, but she held her ground, speaking softly and moving with purpose.
Adler watched, utterly mesmerized, as the bull calmed under her touch. The tension in its massive body seemed to melt away as if she’d cast some kind of spell.
“See?” she called out, flashing him a triumphant grin.
“You’re either crazy or a miracle worker,” Adler muttered, leaning against the fence. “Maybe both.”
Fia walked back over, brushing the dust off her jeans. “Maybe. But that’s just life out here. You learn how to handle what comes your way.”
He couldn’t help but smile at that. There was something magnetic about her—a mix of charm, strength, and vulnerability that he’d never seen in anyone before.
“Well, you’ve definitely got me beat,” Adler admitted, tipping his hat slightly.
“Stick around long enough, city boy, and you might learn a thing or two.”
“Is that an invitation?” he asked, half-joking, though he found himself hoping for a yes.
Fia tilted her head, her grin widening. “Could be. You’ll just have to stick around to find out.”
Adler stayed rooted in place as she walked off, her golden hair catching the sunlight and her laughter still ringing in his ears. For the first time in a long while, Adler felt like the world had stopped spinning just long enough for him to catch his breath.
He didn’t know what it was about her, but he knew one thing for certain—Fia Graves was going to be trouble. The kind of trouble he didn’t mind getting tangled up in.
MOOTIE COOKED