#yeah most of team members' stories are on Russian

[karakulialiny]

Hey, folks! Let me introduce the full line-up of the "GI.F.ON the EDM gang" team at the beginning of the new year.

FNAF MA: martyr and madman Sponge Bob: CATastrophe movie (These links lead to the pages of these projects on Deviantart and Tumblr, because their English versions do not yet exist on Wattpad).

Cr(a/u)sh (fanfiction, based on music video by Pendulum may be deleted later, but it will be reposted on Isia's page, so stay tuned)

Unknown actor Field of my thoughts

Roochie's madness is not released yet, but Nacho actively shares materials on this work on his Instagram.

[sootyships]

for the different versions of Kelly/Callie: 6 and 10 from the character asks? 👀

Thanks for asking! <3

6. What was the thought process behind their appearance? Did you go mostly for the aesthetic or are there other reasons they look the way they do?

Ooooh, boiii. What I do seem to remember is that I to a degree randomised the appearances of the members of Calamity's team (She originates as a transformers OC!). Calamity got a purple visor and the main colours were off-white and petrol blue. She takes some visual inspo from Ricochet--I mean, really some specific fanart. She has fangy fangs. Also, inspired by a particular fanfic's version of Wildrider, she has a strong Russian accent. -> Russian car -> Button-eye Lada, obviously.

Anyways. So then the human version.

Obviously her parents need to at least originate from Russia or former Soviet countries, what with the accent and everything. There's some Fivel Stewart and a bit of Lydia Graham there, but mostly I just went by vibes. She's pale because vibes, she has curly hair because vibes, she has black-brown eyes because humans can't have purple eyes and I didn't wanna do blue eyes since I find it trite, she has snaggle teeth to approximate fangs, she has glasses as a callback to the visor, she has piercings because vibes. She dresses like a Russian tracksuit meme. I do like to bring in the petrol/teal/turquoise and off-white as callbacks in her non-Cybertronian designs, too.

Merformers. Nuff said. She's based on a Fiji Devil Damsel.

The robot design is the newest one.

It's meant to evoke a couple of things. 1. She was found in the trash. She was pretty thrashed! So there's the leg that's clearly not original, and the arms, and the hand, and loads of the parts are different colours, to imply that everything is a bit cobbled together. The belly plates are original--yellowed--and most of the faded blue parts are original, but for example the torso plate and the one knee are replacements 3D printed from orange plastic and painted to hopefully match.

Her face is faded and there's a scratch on her lip. She's not a new bot. The light is a DBH callback; never, ever blue. Her hair is meant to evoke fiber optics.

And she's meant to look creepy. Creepy grin, tiny pupils. That's something that travels across all of her iterations; she's unsettling.

The 2nd thing her robot design is meant to evoke is danger. Sort of? The damage, the sharp claws, what's all that for? Yeah, she'll sit all cute wearing a wholly unnecessary human cardigan and call Kieran's dad "Dad" but she brings with her calamity.

10. What is their main character arc in the story? Where do they start and how do they develop? Do they get a happy ending or is their story a tragic one?

Calamity's story arcs are generally "learning to be a functional person, somewhat?" type arcs. Also romance. In the mer story, she meets Grace and finds herself motivated to try to be a legitimate member of a mer pod lest she get driven off from their waters. She wants her human! Fine! She'll jump through the stupid hoops to have her! Ugh! In the robot story, she's learning a lot of stuff from scratch, including the concept of having a family and protecting her own people, not because she has to, but because she wants to. For most other versions of Callie having a family and a choice is a given.

From the very beginning, Calamity and Gridlock have been two peas in a pod, with Grace|Gridlock as Calamity's (sometimes questionable) voice of reason and motivator-to-behave-according-to-society's-rules. Calamity by herself does not give a slag.

She always get what she wants, btw. Except in the story concept where Gridlock dies. It's interesting because, despite it all, Calamity would be able to continue on without Gridlock. Gridlock without Calamity? ... The whole Umbracon team would be fragged. Somehow, this mis-clocked loose cannon is the fuel keeping them all going.

[suomeen]

Chapter 1: Discomfort zone

As the war started, the world opened up to embrace Ukrainians. But I didn’t go. The second day of war, when things looked pretty bad, I went to my sister who lives in a village in the heart of Ukraine. There we stayed in a small house with 8 people for a month and a half, until it felt safe enough to return to Kyiv.

Back then I got several concerned messages from foreign friends, offering help. One person offered to help me relocate to Germany, another even offered to stay at their house in England. I turned them down. I wasn’t desperate. I still had a home and didn’t feel eligible to go. I was also feeling excessively optimistic about the future. A few months ago, I looked back on those offers and seriously thought if I should have left back then. There was so much more support. And, as pragmatic as it may be, it was a window of opportunity. But the truth is, I was not ready.

After nearly 2 years of war, people grew weary of supporting us. And frankly, it was partly our fault. I heard lots of stories of our people acting entitled and rude, getting into fights for handouts, seemingly indifferent to the real suffering back home. And then there are a lot of us. By some estimates, 9 million people left Ukraine to go mostly for Europe. Over time, counties began to close up, the payouts and privileges got cut down. So, by the time we contemplated leaving, there weren’t many good options. The only countries who were still truly welcoming were the Baltic and Nordic countries. One of the most supportive ones was Finland. Sure, not as it used to be. At the start of war, Ukrainians could enjoy free trains and public transport and even things like zoo tickets. Little by little, it got cut down. Still, Finland was accepting Ukrainians and granting temporary protection almost to anyone with a UA passport. But the main reason for choosing it was that Mum had a friend in Finland who recently married to a local man. She had been telling us to come for a long time, offered her help, but we didn’t listen. 

For a long time, I resisted the idea of going abroad. It was too scary, too uncertain. Moving to a richer country out of convenience seemed wrong, even if a lot of people did it. And yet, things at home have only kept getting harder. There were more and more air attacks and explosions and the Winter was only beginning. The thought of leaving began to resurface.

I was desperately trying to cling to my comfort zone – my room, my PC, my things… Until there was no more comfort left. There’s no peace of mind when you sit in your corridor listening to killer drones fly in the skies above. Still, I had to ask myself “Do I deserve protection? Have I suffered enough? Sure, I heard explosions and sirens all day, had drones and missiles flying over my head, but the chances of me being actually killed are low. Surely, this isn’t for me. There are so many people who need this more.”

And then there was the guilt of leaving your country in crisis. But I realized that there was nothing I could do to help it. I admire the soldiers, the medics, the volunteers and everyone dedicating their lives to protect and help others. But I couldn’t be one of them. I don’t have it in me. I would be broken by trying. I was already broken by these two years. And I have battled depression and anxiety for most of my life. Things were hard for me and, just as I was starting to feel like maybe they might actually get better for once, it all broke down. 

Sidenote: I was the happiest I ever was in my life just before the war started. And it’s not like I won a lottery. I just got a job that I loved, that paid modestly but fairly and my health was alright. Of course, the war wasn’t a complete surprise. We have been anticipating and dreading it for months. We have joked about it at work just days before. One of our team members was Russian and I remember I made a joke about the invasion. Another colleague told me it was too much. Yeah… I was the closest to that Russian boy. He seemed very nice. Talked about wanting to work for Red Cross. Funny that, since I am now living under the protection of Red Cross here in Finland. When the war did start, all the guys from work wrote to me, asking if I was ok and if I needed help. Except the Russian boy.

It was even harder coming down from that high. But perhaps, it gave me a little reserve of resilience, a little joy I collected, like an extra life to spend. So, when shit went down, I was strangely calm and collected. I still was the first year. We were riding the high of our initial success. But hope is a volatile resource. After two years, there was nothing but burnout.

Initially, I rejected the though once again. It was too drastic and it felt like I’d just be swapping one type of stress to another. And, in a way, that was true. Though in the end, hearing sirens all day is not the same as asking strangers for directions.

But the last straw fell when I was trying to find a job. I got completely burnt out at my last job the previous year. Not to get too into it, but it paid very little and required me to write Economist-grade texts in a few hours. I remember sitting in the corridor, listening to explosions and worrying I had a text about Taylor Swift’s dogs to finish. Then came the blackouts. I was physically falling ill from the stress. So I quit. But there was nothing part-time and I couldn’t even get jobs I was ridiculously overqualified for. I tried to find something reasonable for months, but it was just no use. Finally, I passed a test for the country’s major TV channel, 1+1. They offered me a translation job. Except it wasn’t official in any way and the pay would only come some 2 months later. Also, the project was some MTV trash. I came up to my mum then and she said it wasn’t worth it. So I went “You know what? Fuck it! Maybe we should just go. It can’t be worse than this.”

So I catapulted myself out of my comfort zone way across 4 countries.

Finland threw a lifebuoy and I grabbed it.

[traveler-at-heart]

The girl can’t help it

Summary: Natasha gets clumsy around you.

Natasha Romanoff x Enhanced Fem!R

A/N: Have you missed me? ;) The corporate world is eating my soul. Enjoy this random story and know that only Natasha can keep me going.

Natasha was trained to measure every movement. Her steps were silent, the reach of her hand calculated and efficient.

She could take up space and defeat enemies or move discreetly, letting people catch up long after she was gone.

And then, you.

The newest member of the team, with the ability to turn invisible and create force fields. No one would have guessed you had that much power, with your easy demeanor and constant smiles.

It had been a month since you had joined the Avengers, and Natasha was still trying to figure you out.

Kiss the cook, said the t-shirt Tony had gotten you. Everyone was smitten with you, especially since you insisted on cooking breakfast every morning.

There you were, as usual, humming to the beat of “Occapella” as you made eggs, fried bacon and whipped some pancake mix with chocolape chips.

Natasha was across the room, sitting at the table, her eyes never leaving your form. The only other person present was Wanda, who was amused by the way the redhead kept staring, to the point where she poured salt instead of sugar in her coffee. She was sure Natasha would catch up after the first sip, but her expression remained neutral as she glanced at you.

“Is the coffee any good?”

“Yes” Natasha said, turning quickly to nodd to Wanda, as if she was afraid you’d disappear if she stopped staring.

“Good, I was worried you added too much salt” Wanda commented with a smirk just as Natasha drank more. She spat the coffee and frowned.

Just then, you walked to the table and set a plate in front of the Russian.

“Two sunny side up eggs, the way you like them. There’s a side of bacon and bread”

“Thank you” Natasha practically melted, looking up as you removed the cup of coffee and replaced it with a fresh one.

“Use sugar this time, I bet it will taste better” you winked at her and she blushed.

When you left for the kitchen to greet Bucky and convince him he should have pancakes, Wanda snorted at how Natasha’s eyes were glued to you.

Without looking away, the redhead kicked Wanda under the table.

“Ouch”

Yeah, she still had some moves.

-

Nobody liked to train with Natasha. They’d inevitably end up on the ground, begging for mercy. Even Bucky or Steve would avoid it, because they knew she was the only one that could make them break a sweat.

Kate Bishop was the exception, as usual. Even if she wasn’t part of the team, Clint couldn’t shake her off until he promised she could train with all of them once a week.

It was a slow day, and most of the team was at the gym. Wanda and you were usually training together, combining your powers to be more effective. Bucky liked to play offensive and you tried not to dwell too much on it - if he had a knack for being thrown around, it was between him and his therapist.

Natasha was looking at you from the sparring area. Avoiding Kate’s attacks was easy, and she got increasingly frustrated as Yelena cackled.

“Well, you do it if it’s so easy” the girl protested.

She came forward again and before she knew it, Natasha had her immobilized. The redhead kept staring at the way you disappeared and apperead back, forming shields against Bucky’s advances until he was on the ground. You laughed and reached forward to help him up.

“Hey, Natasha, you can let go now” Kate squealed, feeling light headed. “Romanoff… anyone? Help”

Had you ever worked out together? She couldn’t remember it. You would make a great team. Maybe Natasha should ask you…

“Natasha, you killed Kate Bishop!” Yelena screamed, every Avenger suddenly alarmed. The older Russian snapped and looked down to see Kate, unconscious.

“Oh, boy” Clint sighed as she laid in the ground, pinching Kate’s cheeks. “Kiddo, nap time is over”

“That was cold, Romanoff” Sam said, amused.

“I didn’t… it wasn’t on purpose” she muttered, looking at you. You walked next to her and placed your hand on her shoulder.

“She’ll be fine” in that moment, Kate’s eyes snapped open and she gasped. “See?”

“I saw the light!” she said dramatically.

“Ok, she’s kinda fine” you joked, walking away as Yelena helped the other girl up.

“Wait” Natasha went after you, and you turned around. She blushed, thinking it was lame how she chased after you. “Do you want to train together sometime?”

“Yeah, I’d love that. I never asked because I figured I’d be too slow for you”

“So, it’s a plan”

“Just don’t leave me unconscious”

The redhead laughed and nodded, blushing even more.

“Deal”  

-

Next time she got distracted, no one else got hurt but her.

It was a summer day, with no missions for the rest of the week, so a barbecue and a basketball match were in order.

Your competitive streak had made its appearance when Sam said he could win even if you used your powers.

So there you were, running around the field trying to block any movement from Sam. In a sports bra and shorts.

Natasha was supposed to be taking care of the grill, but was too focused on you to smell the meat burning.

“I’ll take over” Tony said, pushing her gently towards one of the chairs. She kept staring at you, celebrating after scoring another point over Sam. Stark handed over a bottle of beer and the redhead missed his sly grin when he said “Here. You look thirsty”

“Alright, I’m ready for round two” Sam announced, out of breath. He turned around but you were nowhere to be found.

“Just accept defeat” you said, throwing the ball. He still couldn’t see you, but smiled anyway.

“Let’s play teams. I’ll be with Bucky and you…” he glanced around, until he saw Natasha sitting close to the court. “You’re playing with Natasha. Hey, Romanoff, think fast!”

Shit.

She was too focused trying to guess where you were that she missed Sam’s words. The ball would have hit her square in the face if it hadn’t been for your force field.

���What the hell is wrong with you?” you materialized right next to Natasha as the ball bounced back. “You don’t just throw a ball at someone’s face”

“Alright, I’m sorry, I was kidding” he apologized but you didn’t back down. “What?”

“Bad Sam, time out for you”, you declared, creating a force field around him. He gestured and pounced against the barrier but none of you could hear him.

“You didn’t get hit, right?” you turned to Natasha, your hand on her cheek to check any damages.

“I’m fine” she melted against the touch and thought… you liked kind of hot when you were mad.

What? No, stop…

She didn’t have time to think about what that meant, because a frisbee came crashing against her head.

“Yelena!” you barked and the blonde cowered. “I did not protect your sister from a basketball for this!”

“It was an accident!”

“You’re all too dangerous to be around” you complained, taking Natasha’s hand. With a flick of your wrist, the field around Sam disappeared.

The redhead was feeling slightly lightheaded, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of the frisbee or how you were holding on to her hand.

“Here, sit down” you signaled one of the stools at the kitchen island. “You ok? Dizzy? How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Two” she said with a smile.

“How about now?” you made your whole hand invisible and she laughed, pulling you closer.

You ran your fingers over her temple, making sure the spot wasn’t getting too red.

“You do seem a bit distracted. The coffee, Kate and now this. Everything ok?”

“Yes. Everything’s perfect”

With you so close, looking at Natasha as if she was the only person in the world, she was more than fine.

-

Another one of Tony’s parties. You’d said you would be there, but being invisible.

And Natasha couldn’t tell if that was a joke or not, until she spotted you across the room. You looked amazing in a crimson pantsuit and a white satin shirt with a few buttons undone. She lost sight of you for a moment, and was afraid you’d actually disappear. The redhead walked around, not minding her steps until she stumbled with a chair.

“Careful” you appeared right next to her, wrapping your arms around her waist. She gasped, taken by surprise and you smiled, speaking in a low voice. “Sorry, I saw Senator Johnson walking over and wanted to avoid his boring talk”

“I’m just glad you were here to catch me” Natasha whispered, staying close.

“Will you dance with me?” you said, feeling a bit brave by the look in her eyes.

“Is it because he’s too afraid to talk to me?”

“Partly” you nodded, allowing her to walk you to the dance floor. She put her arms around your shoulders and you let her lead, knowing she was usually the most coordinated one out of you two. Excluding recent events, of course. “But it’s also because I think you look beautiful and wanted to tell you that”

“Thank you” she looked down and blushed.

“Just saying the truth, Miss Romanoff” you smiled and she leaned her head on your shoulder.

“Are you nervous?” she asked all of the sudden.

“About dancing with you? No, you haven’t stepped on me. So far”

“I meant the mission”

“Oh” you lowered your voice and she put some distance, looking up at you. “A bit. It’s my first official mission, right? Sounds like a big deal”

“We’re a team. Steve and Sam are going. And I’ll be there too”

“See, that’s the thing. I can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt” she was about to answer when the song ended and you could feel your heart beating too fast for your own good. Deciding to put some distance between you, you let go of her hand gently. “Want to drink something?”

“Sure” she nodded, politely ignoring your earlier confession. It seemed like you two were too stubborn to be upfront about things with each other.

The bartender was gone, so you decided to take over.

“What can I get you?”

“Martini. Dry”

“A la Bond?” you asked, knowing her love of spy films.

“If you insist” she smiled.

“I think she’s had enough for today. Didn’t you see her stumbling down a few minutes ago?” Tony joked.

“You gotta talk to your catering if guests need to make their own drinks” you deflected, pouring Natasha’s. “Lucky for you I worked at the Four Seasons”

“So you don’t mind taking over” he winked. “Unless Red here wants you all to herself”

“What did I tell you would happen if you called me that again, Tony?” Natasha asked sweetly, and you suspected the answer was anything but.

“Something about my ass and my head and getting stuck” you chuckled and the man turned to you. “Ok, help me out here, Y/N. What would you call Natasha? Other than, well, her name”

“I don’t know” you shrugged. You had a feeling Tony was pushing you for some hidden reason. It felt like a game to him.

“Widow, maybe? Or something sweeter, like Spidy? Honey Pie?”

“Tasha” you said without thinking. The redhead turned to you, her eyes soft. You cleared your throat. “Short and sweet. Just like her”

You took a sip of your drink to hide your blush, while Natasha played with the rim of her own glass.

“Do you have a death wish? You just called her short”

“I’m like one and a half inches taller than you, Tony” Natasha rolled her eyes and the man gasped.

“I told you that in confidence!”

You laughed and placed your hand in his shoulder.

“Height is just a number, my guy. If it had to be measured by ego, you’d be the giant here”

“Don’t make it worse” Pepper warned, coming up behind Tony. “Will you let me steal him for a moment?”

“Please, we’re begging you” you asked and Natasha burst out into laughter. Once Tony was gone, she leaned forward, looking down at her hands. “So, Tasha?”

“If you don’t mind”

“I like it. Yeah”

And I like you, you wanted to say. Would it be too much?

“I hope you haven’t had a lot to drink” Steve walked in.

“Cap, come on, it’s a party”

“Sorry, mission got urgent. We need to move now”

Natasha looked at you, as you leaned over the bar to control your breathing.

“Ok” you nodded.

“Twenty minutes”

Natasha looked at you; all you could offer was a weak smile. She nodded herself and turned to Steve.

“Let’s do this”

-

“Here”, Cap pointed at a spot in a blueprint and you nodded. “Can you deactive their security cameras?”

“A force field would do the trick”, you confirmed, placing your earpiece and gloves.

“Are you sure she has to go alone?” Natasha insisted.

“Unless you can turn invisible, yes” Sam pointed out and you sighed.

“I’ll be fine” you squeezed Natasha’s hand. She nodded and squeezed back before you let go.

Getting in was easy. The hard part came once the guards caught up with the fact that the Avengers were in the building.

Natasha was running down the hall to put some distance between some guards when you snatched her to hide behind a locker.

“Shhh” you whispered, keeping her close to you. You could feel her breath against your neck, and the air was hot between you two. As a couple of HYDRA thugs ran without spotting you, she placed her hand on your stomach to steady herself.

“You’re bleeding” she snapped when you recoiled from the touch.

“It’s nothing” you said, walking towards the exit of the building and pulling Natasha along.

“Getting shot is not nothing”

“Stabbed” you corrected. Before she could protest, Steve told you he had the intel and the team was good to go. “Come on”

You were close to the exit when a loud explosion shook the building.

“Shit!” the redhead said, looking up to where debris and metal was falling from the ceiling and coming straight to you. It would block the exit and crush the both of you in a matter of seconds.

Without a second thought, you raised your hands, creating a shield to keep it from falling. You knew it wouldn’t last long.

“Nat, come on!” you said through your teeth, feeling how the effort was making the pain in your stomach more intense.

“I can’t leave you!”

“Just go, Tash…” just as you turned to look at her emerald eyes, two guards raised their guns. She wouldn’t be able to shoot them, so you created another shield in front of her with your left hand.

Natasha took them down as soon as she turned, protected by your powers. But the effort took a toll on you, and part of the barrier collapsed, sending a metal bar straight to you.

“No!” Natasha screamed as you fell to the ground.

“Natasha! Y/N!” Steve ran, raising his shield to protect you.

“Come on, hold it up” Natasha pointed at the bar that trapped your leg. You hissed when the pressure was released, knowing that your leg was broken. With what was left of your powers, you held the barrier for a minute longer. Steve and Natasha carried you out, the building trembling as everything began to fall freely.

“Get us out of here” Steve asked Sam, who was ready to fly the Quinjet out of the base.

“Cap, we have a problem!” he informed Steve. “Short range missiles. We won’t be able to dodge them”

“Sam, just fly the damn thing. Trust me” you limped towards the back of the Quinjet, resting against one of the doors.

“What are you doing? You need to sit down” Natasha pleaded, but you closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

“They’re coming to us in ten seconds so if you have a plan do it now!” Sam demanded. You placed your hands in the metal walls, imagining a shield expanding all over the jet and beyond.

You let ten, then twenty more seconds pass until Sam told you you were clear and out of danger.

“Good job, Y/N” Steve said, sighing with relief. You smiled but went out like a light a second later, exhausted from the adrenaline rush and your injuries.

—

“Welcome back” a voice with a heavy accent greeted when you opened your eyes.

“Hum. Not bad for a first mission, huh?” Your throat was dry, but before you could reach and pour yourself some water, Wanda was already up. You were about to protest when the pain in your stomach came back, pulsing viciously.

“I should have been there” Wanda regretted, watching you drink eagerly.

“It would have been an easy mission for the Twisted Sisters”

“The nickname is growing on me” she nodded and you smiled. Out of all people, Wanda knew better than anyone what it was like to have these abilities. Maybe the only other person who could get you was…

“Natasha!” you jumped and Wanda gave you a sad smile.

“She’s fine. Just shaken. She almost lost you”

“Do you think she’ll want to talk to me?”

“Right now she’s probably destroying boxing bag number three so she’s busy”

“Will you help me get out of here, then?” you wiggled your eyebrows.

“Agaisnt medical advice so Natasha can murder me?” Wanda sat next to you and you rolled your eyes. “You have a broken leg so stay put and wait for discharge, Skippy”

“That nickname will not stick. And A Twisted Sister would never follow the rules” you sighed dramatically.

Luckily, after a general check up you were free to go. Steve and Sam showed up, sans Natasha, to help you back to the Compound.

Once you were in your room, they told you that if you needed anything you could ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. and they’d come running for you.

Still, no sign of Natasha.

So, you asked FRIDAY.

The redhead showed up a few minutes later, an unreadable expression on her face.

“You ok?” she asked and you nodded.

“I just… missed you. I wanted to see you. I’m sorry, it was stupid”

“No” she rushed to your bed and sat down. “I’m the one that should be apologizing. You got hurt because of me”

“That is not true. Mission went sideways. A broken leg is a small price to pay to keep you safe”

“So if it was the other way around you’d be fine with that?”

“No”

“There ya go”

“Tasha; you are impossible. And you make it very hard to love you right now” you ranted, not fully realising what you were saying until she replied.

“Well it’s a good thing I love you too. Otherwise it would be even harder”

“Very Bond of you to admit your feelings after a precarious situation” you huffed, annoyed at her smile. You were supposed to be scolding her over blaming herself.

“What can I say? I’m a little dramatic”

“Whenever you’re ready, I’m down to kissing you to shut you up”

“Oh, I’m ready” she leaned forward, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. “But don’t ever scare me like that again”

“Stop putting salt in your coffee”

She chuckled and you smiled against her lips.

“Not my fault that you’re very distracting”

“I’ll turn invisible”

“Don’t you dare. I always want to see you” she whispered. You promised she would get that, and you did it with another kiss.

She’d always have you. Taglist: @gimaximoff, @nataliaromanova-widow, @sherlockstrangewolf

[karimac]

Turn of the Wheel: Ghosts of Christmas Past

Warnings: Pretty much none on this one. This is the Christmas just before Kari and Bucky decide to give it a go, otherwise known as the Christmas the Hawkeyes went to town at Rockefeller Center.

Although none of the stories so far have ventured into smut, I do consider these 18+ because of violence in other stories.

A/N: This is a submission for @arrthurpendragon's OC Ficmas 2022 event. Please check out her blog to see all the authors participating this year.

Not beta read. All mistake are my own.

Word count: Approx. 4.8K

Banner artwork credit: Image by Robert Jones from Pixabay

The photo is of the Christmas display at the McGraw Hill Building near Radio City Music Hall. It is one of my personal favorites!

If anyone wishes to be added to my taglist, please let me know.

Thanks for reading! Comments and reblogs are most welcome and appreciated!

Happy Holidays!

And here it was, another Christmas Eve, and you were so lacking in holiday spirit that most people would have stuck you with the Grinch or Scrooge nicknames used so often for those who, more likely than not, felt lost or alone this time of year.

You had done your very best to put on your “holiday face” at your bakery, and everyone except for your closest staff members probably bought your acting job this festive season.

You still didn’t feel connected to anyone, especially Bucky, Sam and his family. You felt like a fraud, but you also didn’t want to drop your massive amount of home truths on them until it was well into the New Year. Like maybe next July? Yeah, that could work, right?

Once the doors on Cutie-Pie-Tutti were locked for the night, you put in your AirPods and found the one holiday tune guaranteed to lift your spirits as you wandered around Manhattan.

“On the High Line I see the skyline Snow falls down on me As I hail the taxi, roll through the city To see the Rockefeller tree”

 “The tree? Sounds like a good idea, Liz,” you said as you looked at your iPhone and saw the smiling face of Elizabeth Chan, singer and composer of “Christmas in the City,” staring back at you.

Once you got there by foot, you didn’t expect to find the tree suddenly falling down onto the ice skating rink below and several crazed Russian men in track suits descending on the fallen evergreen.

A group of cosplayers or LARPers seemed to have joined the fray, as did a man with a sword and a female archer dressed in black and purple. The trick arrows she was using were all too familiar.

“Clint’s arrow? What in the world is going on now?” you muttered as some maniac in a track suit came running toward you, hell bent on making your evening even worse with the baseball bat he was swinging wildly as he ran. “Not so fast, tovarisch,” you said as you threw up your hands and pushed him backward into the side of a car with a magic blast. “Not going to ruin my night, or anyone else’s either.”

“Yo! Avenger! We’ve got another Avenger in the house!” one of the LARPers yelled as you turned to see where the young archer had gone or, better yet, where Clint might be.

You looked down onto the rink, and you noticed a petite blonde, dressed in what looked like the uniform of a Black Widow, talking to Clint, but she ran off just as quickly as you saw her. Then you saw the purple-clad archer running toward Clint, and you decided you had better get down to the ice before any more idiots decided to join this party.

As you ran down the stairs, more of the track suit interlopers were making their way onto the ice in a delivery truck, but one Pym particle arrow took care of them. Or maybe it was the owl that hauled the tiny truck away that did the trick?

Oh, how you wished Steve, Tony and Nat were here to see this. Christmas still wasn't the same without them.

“So, Clint, care to introduce me to your protégé? And how in the name of Heaven did you knock over this tree of all trees? Who were the goon squad in the track suits?”

“You didn’t tell me you were calling in the rest of the team! I’m Kate Bishop. People say I’m one of the greatest archers in the world. And I’m lucky Clint is letting me partner with him.”

“Partner? And here I thought you were retiring, Clint. What does Laura have to say about all this?”

“Very funny. Why did you show up now anyway? Not that I’m not happy for the assist, Kari. Kate, this is Kari MacOrish.”

“Nice to meet you, Kate,” you said as you extended your hand. “Now, maybe I can fix your tree trouble. Can you guys step back a bit? And let me know if Damage Control rolls up. I do not like those jokers, and I do not want to spend my Christmas Eve in one of their detention centers.”

“How are you going to fix this tree? Do you need to call Strange or Wong? I know no one knows where Wanda is,” Clint said as your hands were bathed in green light. You winked at Barton and smiled as you unfurled your wings and took to the sky.

“Unraveling time would probably work best, but I really don’t want to deal with that much hassle. It would undo all the battles you just won and make those bozos come back, and once tonight is enough, even for me,” you replied as you sent a wave of light toward the tree and its broken trunk, slowly lifting it back into place. It hurt like hell, but you were not about to let all these locals and tourists lose the chance to have this tree as the center of their celebrations this night.

Many of the lights were shattered, and some branches seemed broken beyond repair, but the star miraculously survived the fall when it landed on a bale of hay near one of the entrances, a sign to you that this might work out after all.

This was not the first time you had rescued a fallen tree, but this was likely the largest one you ever hoped to put to rights with magic.

“Is it straight?” you asked Clint and Kate as you hovered in the air, the sound of sirens in the distance making your timely completion of your task a necessity.

“I think so, but Laura says I’m not very good with stuff like this,” Clint said as you landed and ran to the base, a final touch of the splintered trunk the deal maker to keep the Norway spruce in place until it would be removed in January. You dug in your pocket and found a ribbon you had taken off a present you got from Cristiano, your head baker, and as you placed it on the trunk, it grew in size and wrapped around the damaged base. It was red and gold and glittered as you magically tugged at the ends to make sure it was snug.

“Clint, ambulances are on the way, so here,” you said as you grabbed both Bishop’s and Barton’s shoulders and started a very rudimentary healing of them both. “Just gave you a head start so you aren’t in a hospital bed for the holiday. Kate, it’s been a pleasure,” you said as you gave the young woman a hug, “and Clint, Merry Christmas to you, Laura and the kids,” you added as you hugged him as well. “Tell Ms. Bishop about the café. Card’s in your pocket, Kate,” you yelled back to them as you ran off the ice and back toward Fifth Avenue, the choir of Saint Patrick’s filling the night with song as you went to the subway to head back to Brooklyn.

It was just too bad your holiday blahs returned as soon as you got back to your apartment. Sure, you had a tree there, and Hickory was still wearing his festive red and green holiday bow tie on his collar, but things just felt off.

Maybe it was because you and Bucky were seemingly on the outs for what must have been the fifth time this month.

Or it could have been the disappointment expressed by Sarah, Cass and AJ when you declined an invitation to Christmas dinner.

This year just did not seem like the best time to be mingling with anyone.

As you looked at the packages under your tree, you noticed the one for Bucky right away. It was metallic royal blue with big white snowflakes all over the paper, and the silver and white bow gleamed in the light of your tree. You’d gotten him a new leather jacket because his had been trashed during a fight with some Flag Smasher sympathizers, and he wouldn’t let you magic up a fix for it. So finding him one as a gift was the only way to go.

You’d also gotten Alpine a gift or two while you were at it. You were thrilled when Bucky had gone to the local no kill shelter’s cat café to see the felines up for adoption there, and the white Angora he brought home was too cute for words. So you got her a new bed and some treats you knew she liked. Hickory was a tuna fancier, but Alpine seemed to enjoy salmon more.

And a pile of gifts for the Wilsons sat directly behind Bucky’s box. You found some great, tenderly-loved old Motown records in a store in Detroit. You also found some wonderful souvenirs to give to Sam from one of the old recording studios used by the soulful songsters back in the 60s.

The boys wanted nothing more than video games, but you knew Sarah was not the biggest fan, so, along with some new headphones and controllers for each of them, you registered the boys with an “experiences” camp out of New Orleans. They’d have two weeks away this summer at a camp of their choosing, be it space academy, inventors’ workshop or outdoor adventure base.

And Sarah? A week or two away from the boat while the boys were gone was what you thought she could use, but you knew she would likely not accept the present. So you opted for some very thoughtful jewelry made by local craftsmen in Baton Rouge. The pieces were African inspired and screamed “strong, powerful, caring, friend” when you saw the necklace and earrings.

Now you just hoped you’d get to give them their gifts sometime in the near future. Just not tonight.

“Well, Hick, looks like it’s you and me tonight,” you said as you sat down on your floral sofa and invited your orange tabby to join you there. “Merry Christmas, fuzz meister. I just wish I knew what was wrong with me.”

As Christmas morning dawned, you went into your living room and noticed Hickory had been snooping in a bunch of boxes that were at the back of the tree. You had bought them ages ago and tucked them away. Frankly, you’d shoved them back there because they were too painful to look at.

One was addressed to someone named MJ, and another to a person named Ned. There was another to a woman named May, and the final one was ready to give to someone named Peter, but for the life of you, you could not remember who in the name of the Goddess any of them were.

“I guess I’ll donate these, Hick, because I have no idea why I bought them,” you said as you sat down on the stool in your kitchen, trying to recall any of these people as you made a cup of coffee. But every time you tried, you saw purple lights and felt like hell. You’d been feeling that way since the start of December, but you didn’t want to tell anyone about it. You should have talked to Wong or Strange, but the new Sorcerer Supreme was in Kamar-Taj, and the disgruntled former Sorcerer Supreme was likely holed up in the New York Sanctum and being a bit of an arse about it all.

Nope, those two were a no-go this holiday season.

And Wanda, the one person you likely would have chosen to talk to in the first place, was still off the radar. That didn’t make a damned bit of sense either.

You started to zone out a bit as you drank your coffee, wincing as more weird images popped into your mind. The splintered parts of you in other realms were likely pushing back at you for a reason, but you were not about to deal with them today.

Meanwhile, down in Delacroix, Sarah was probably ready to toss rolls at her brother and his new “bestie,” but that would have been a waste of perfectly good food. She could hear them getting into it in the living room as she put the finishing touches on Christmas breakfast.

“What do you mean Kari isn’t talking to you? Or are you just mad at her for some stupid reason? What did you do this time, Krampus Claus?”

Poor Sam didn’t know what he was getting into when he decided to find out what exactly was going on between you and Bucky at the moment.

“What does that even mean?” Bucky sat down in one of the overstuffed chairs in the Wilsons’ living room. “Krampus Claus isn’t a thing. Even I know that!”

“Cass and AJ wanted to watch that Christmas horror movie with that German monster guy last week, but Sarah yelled at me because she thought I was encouraging them to watch it. First damned thing that popped into my head, Buck.”

“Of course it was. And I have no idea why Kari isn’t talking to me. And before you ask, I talked to Sharon. She has no clue either. And Sarah doesn’t know, so who next?”

“What about Bruce?” Sarah yelled from the kitchen.

“He’s visiting his cousin in California,” Sam yelled back. “Jennifer. The lawyer. As far as I know, Bruce and Kari haven’t spoken in weeks.”

“Great,” Sarah said as she walked in and looked at Bucky. “You two get this close to each other, and then you repel like a couple of magnets. You are both making me and Sam crazy. Now, which one of you two wants to help pour the coffee while we try to figure out how to fix this mess? On top of the mess about Kari and her crazy past, I mean. Or do you think they’re related?”

“Sarah, if I knew, I’d tell you. Kind of makes me wish Loki were still around,” Bucky said as Sam almost dropped the coffee pot. “They actually got along, and he might have been able to help. I know. I sound crazier than usual.”

“What do you mean she won’t open the door? Just cast a spell to open the lock!”

Devnet Casey and Enya Sun had been alerted by Darcy Lewis that you had been less than peppy this holiday season, and because she could not be there herself to see what was up, she asked your two oldest friends to check in on you. So now they were more or less bickering at your Brooklyn apartment door.

“Enya, do I look like I haven’t tried that? Herself warded it pretty well. I even called Mina to get her fanged face over here, but she said to leave Kari alone. She said we all know why Kari gets weird at Christmas. Unless you think she finally got pissed about what we are all doing that is technically behind her back? I’ve tried to stall everyone until Kari gets the nerve to explain it all, and it is driving me mad. I thought telling her would help, but no…”

Devnet was referring to the group trying to figure out what was wrong with you and your magic, but she had made sure not to introduce herself to Sam or Bucky just yet. The same went for any mention of Enya, your first husband Galen’s sister.

“Mina said. Mina thought. Blah blah blah. I don’t care if Mina is Thom’s sister. She has no idea what is going on because she was not one of us way back in the morning dew of it all,” Enya said as she tugged on your door handle yet again. “Wait. Is this about that stupid tree?”

“I’d hardly call the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree a stupid tree. And no, it isn’t about the tree as far as I know. At least that’s what that pixie working at her bakery told me. Then again, Kari is probably not telling anyone anything of great value. There is something weird, though.”

“Weirder than the two of you?” a third female voice said as her footsteps came to a halt. “I thought I asked you to leave the lady alone?”

“And are you ignoring your own advice, Mina?” Enya growled as Kari’s other sister-in-law, Mina O’Malley Harkness, stood before them, red scarf tossed casually around the collar of her black coat, black hat and dark hair framing her face, and a tiny drop of blood near her bottom lip.

“You didn’t snack on a taxi driver, did you?” Devnet asked as she crossed her arms and looked up at Mina.

“No, of course not. Dorian and I made a stop at a local blood bank a few days ago. The one near the Village where all the vampires go. I am not going to ruin your holiday. I promise. Now, did you see the lights in the harbor earlier this month? The purple ones? When I called Kari, she told me about them. She…something about them bothered her.”

“And she told you and not us? And not the assassin? Seriously?” Enya asked just as a neighboring door opened, and the trio stepped back into a piece of shadow so they would not be noticed. “Do you have a key, Mina? We can’t stay out here all day.”

“Can’t you just spell it?” Mina asked as the ladies turned in unison at the sound of a click, and the door opened enough for Hickory to pop out. He pawed Devnet’s leg and asked to be picked up. As she scooped up the orange tabby, the trio stepped inside the apartment and saw you just sitting there in your red and green pajamas, coffee cup in hand.

“Sorry I didn’t open up sooner, but things are just…not right,” you said as you set your mug down. “And doing the ‘three spirits visiting you this night’ part is a bit old hat, isn’t it? Do you really not see the ghosts from Dickens’ story when you see the other three of us gathered round this night? Or the ghosts of those we have lost? I do. And to top it off, I know you’ve been hiding things from me, ladies. I’ve been hiding them from you, too. You’d think we’d all learn by now, but we never do, do we?”

“What do you mean you keep getting into more fugue states?” Mina asked as she sat down in your sage green chair and fiddled with one of the decorations on your side table. It was a small snowman with a cardinal perched on its arm, and it seemed to amuse the vampire a bit. “Your other parts start intruding more? Is that normal?”

“No, it isn’t,” you replied as you looked at Mina. “And it makes things complicated. A stray thought can trigger it, and so can a smell or some particular setting. It’s getting to the point that I don’t want to leave this apartment, and I really can’t live like that.”

“And you haven’t told anyone except us right now?” Dev asked as she finally set Hickory down. “I mean, not Sam or Bruce or Bucky?”

“Not a soul, but I have a funny feeling the Masters of the Mystic Arts might be watching me from a distance. They mean well, but at times, well, it gets annoying.”

“And so do your ‘out to lunch’ moments, Kar,” Enya noted as she walked around your tree. “No offense, but they do get scary.”

“None taken,” you replied to her comments. “I just wish I could stop them.”

“And why the hiding nonsense?” Mina asked as Hickory finally made his way over to her. He had never been too fond of vampires, and you chalked that up to the fact he had never met your brother Ewan. “Go. Have fun. Please, for all our sakes, go down to Louisiana and have a good time. Whatever the purple lights are can wait for a day or two.”

“Mina is right, and you know how infrequently I admit to agreeing with her,” Enya said with a smirk as Mina laughed. “You don’t hate Christmas. You never have. You are just being you again. Taking all this on your back.”

“But,” you started to say before Dev shot you one of her usual withering glares. “What, Dev?”

“Did you get spooked again? About Bucky and that damned dagger you hid in your vault? You said ages ago that Loki looked at the stupid thing and had no idea what it was. Please, for your sake even more than ours, even on your worst day, you would not kill Bucky Barnes. If you were meant to do it with that dagger, you would not have missed the first time. He was brainwashed when he stabbed you, so I am trying to be a bit less judgmental about the man. I truly am glad he got help.”

“Ladies, I am not just showing up on their doorstep. I told Sarah no, and I am not going to mess up her plans. She has enough to handle with her boys, and Sam and Bucky, bless them, are not always jumping in to help her in the ways she might need most. She told me Sam was encouraging the boys to watch Christmas horror films. I’m hoping it was just a misunderstanding. They do not need to see “Violent Night” or “Silent Claus, Deadly Claus” or any other film like that. At least not yet.”

“I am sure Sarah would be more than welcoming,” Dev continued as she grabbed your now empty coffee mug and took it into your kitchen. “Now, out of the chair and into the shower. And what are those things you are wearing anyway? Ugly Christmas pajamas? Seriously? With cats all over them?”

“A gift from my staff at the bakery here. Fine. I’ll shower and get dressed, but I’m still not…going…”

After you showered and changed, you still resisted Dev’s urging you all to go to Delacroix and forget about the drama for one day. Right now she was acting more like her dog Tyrone with a huge bone. She would not take no for an answer, so down you all went via portal, with Hickory in tow. Mina had bagged up the gifts you needed for the Wilsons and Bucky and handed them to you before Enya literally pushed you from Brooklyn to the Wilsons’ front porch, hitting the buzzer for the doorbell for good measure.

“Kari?” Sam said as he got to the front door, opening it a split second after your friends vanished. No trio from the past. Just you, Hickory and a ton of gifts.

“A few old friends kicked my arse for not being more social this year. They were right. Merry Christmas, Sam.”

Cass and AJ came running up behind their uncle and took the bag of gifts inside. Hickory sniffed around and was happy to see Alpine was there as well, and the two scampered off to make mischief as you turned to see Bucky standing there with a big grin on his face. “So, Cris finally get you to leave?”

“It was another group of old friends. You don’t know them. Not yet anyway. I’ll explain another time,” you said as Sarah came in for a holiday hug.

“I think I know why you’re off,” Sarah said as she looked at the gifts Cass and AJ were digging into. “Darcy told me about her friend Jane. She mentioned you couldn’t help with Jane’s cancer, and that got you pretty bummed. No wonder you weren’t in a party mood. You could have told us.”

With the purple light nonsense you had pushed the Jane Foster fiasco to the back of your mind. Her cancer was too advanced for you to be able to help kick start her own healing abilities. Jane was a wonderful woman and a truly talented astrophysicist, but most of all she was Darcy’s best friend. That was why the whole “Jane story” stirred up so many emotions for you.

“Even people like me have trouble when we hear we can’t do something to help others,” you said as Sarah handed you a cup of coffee. “Thank you.”

“Why didn’t you tell us about Jane?” Bucky asked as he nursed his own mug of coffee. “Is it a big secret? Maybe Doctor Cho could help?”

“I was just trying to respect Jane’s wishes about not making a big deal out of her illness. I’m not even sure Thor knows, and they were a couple. I did not want him hearing from anyone but her. And there is some other magical woo-woo stuff going on, but I don’t think I want to get into that until I've done some more recon. I’ll talk to Stephen and Wong after the holidays. I promise.”

“You better,” Sam said with a slight scowl. “Or your presents go back to the North Pole. I’ll call Santa personally.”

“Oh, Nick? He’d never do that. He’s a sweetie. And the reindeer love me. I make them snacks with carrots and other veggies baked in. Cranberries, too. ”

“Of course you know Santa Claus!” Sam replied as Cass and AJ laughed loudly. “What did I say this time?”

“I was kidding, Sam. Are my jokes falling flat already? That goes for any regional or national version that is not called Santa Claus. Like Pere Noel.”

You kept smiling as you thought back to your actual friend Kristopher Nicklaus Kringle, the sole proprietor of a now massive toy workshop in the northern reaches of the world just past the Canadian wilderness. His space was close to The Rift but not physically in it. It was in a pocket dimension all its own. He was indeed an immortal like you, and he and his family had made Christmas their business for centuries. But you were not about to tell that tale today. Nick needed his day off, too.

“So, can I be of any help?” you asked before you turned to see Cass and AJ checking out their new gaming gear. “There’s more to it than the tech, Sarah. That part comes later. Boys, maybe we should eat first since your mom went to all this trouble?”

As the boys begrudgingly left their pile of gifts and went to the table, Bucky pulled you aside for a minute. “You sure you’re OK? Need to talk?”

“This nonsense can wait. And before you ask, I’ll tell you the Santa story another time. Now, did you eat Sarah out of all her beignets today? Did you try that turducken recipe this year, Sarah?”

“Do not mention that word,” Sarah grumbled as she looked back toward the kitchen. “Regular old turkey for us. That other thing was a nightmare.”

“Marvelous, delicious turkey you mean,” you replied as Sarah just smiled and shook her head. As you looked at her, you started to see the damned purple lights again, and now they seemed to touch everyone in the room. You blinked and pinched the bridge of your nose for a minute to get the visuals and the sick feeling they caused you to pass. “Sorry. We had a few celebratory drinks last night before we closed the bakery. Whatever that was at the end had a kick to it. It was the fairy equivalent of a bar mat shot.”

As you took a deep breath and concentrated on the eggs, bacon and beignets before you, you hoped that the rest of the gifts would be as much of a hit as the gaming gear was for Cass and AJ.

You also couldn’t shake the feeling things were going to keep getting less settling as the purple lights became more and more frequent.

“How do you say Merry Christmas in Irish, Kari?” Sam asked as he grabbed more bacon from the platter. “Nollaig Shona agus Athbhliain faoi Mhaise Duit. That’s Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. I pray that the next one is a good one for us all.”

Back in Brooklyn, Enya, Dev and Mina had long since left your apartment and locked things up behind them as they did. They had flicked off the lights on your tree, so the only lights visible were the ones in and around the apartment building across the way and in the street below. The streets were fairly empty for a Christmas night, so no one likely saw the lingering purple light dancing near your balcony window. A figure appeared there briefly and just as quickly vanished. A wisp of shadow form hovered in the air for the briefest of moments before the purple lights blinked out.

Taglist: @arrthurpendragon, @historygeekfics, @starryeyes2000

[thetriggeredhappy]

in the dadspy au, what if jeremy was just going to be an assistant/cook/janitor at the base while his dad was being the mercenary (since spy didnt want him to follow the "career" but didnt want to be separated from him), but then jeremy turned out to be even better than the hired scout so they promote him to that position and spy is not happy with this at all

ok i was gonna put this in the queue to post but im impatient because im happy with this one. only thing i didnt have was spy being upset by this development

(warnings for canon-typical violence, discussion of mercenary-type things, paranoia, alcohol, and exactly one proper fight scene. consider this pg-13)

-

“Would you prefer the good news first, or the bad news?” Dad asked.

Jeremy looked up at him from where he’d snatched up the sunday comics from his dad’s newspaper and was doodling little hats on the characters while they waited for their food to arrive. “Uh,” he said, “good news first.”

“Alright. The good news is, do you remember that line I’ve been tailing? The one in New Mexico?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jeremy said, then nodded a little more confidently. “Immunity, safehouse, somethin’ like that, right?”

“...Something like that,” Dad agreed carefully, and that made him raise an eyebrow. “It went well, and I think there’s the very real possibility that I’ve all but closed the deal, all they want now is an interview.”

“...Interview, singular,” Jeremy said slowly.

“That’s where the bad news begins. Unfortunately... merde, how to phrase this?” He drew a hand down his face. “They’re fully willing to hire me on, but this is a more... corporate affair than I’m used to. They have rules, stipulations. Long story short, they will not hire you as a mercenary on the basis of your age.”

Jeremy tensed. “What?” he demanded. “That’s stupid, I’m old enough to drive and buy guns and whatever the hell else.”

“But not rent a car, at least in many places in the United States.”

“But—“ he started, and remembered they were in public, and lowered his voice to a hiss, leaning in. “We’re hired killers, thieves, criminals. Do they really think we’re above having fakes? False documentation?”

“Actually, that is one of their requirements,” Dad said dryly, taking a paper from his jacket and consulting it. “I’m not happy about it either, mon lapin, but those are their rules. Already they have slightly bent them for one individual, and already I am on thin ice. But I may have a way to manage this.”

“Yeah?” Jeremy asked, nervous now.

“I know the woman responsible for new hires and managing the team I’ve applied for. She owes me a favor—a fairly hefty one. When I go in for the interview, one of my demands will include you being hired on, not as a mercenary, but for... for custodial purposes, something like that. Cook, janitor, security guard, secretary—whatever job there is that needs doing there, and I am sure that there will be one. Something to allow you to live there. Pay will likely be her stipulation, and the play I hope to make is that really, you’re overqualified for the position and she’s lucky to have someone so competent available, and in the worst case scenario, the pay is still good enough even for just one of us that we will not cut too deeply into the savings.”

The savings. That made Scout blink, because they only ever brought up the savings when—

“You think this could be it?” he asked quietly. “Like, it it?”

A hard exhale, and he leaned his cheek on his hand. “Potentially,” he finally said. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, but the job promises a variety of things. Medical attention available, extremely low levels of danger, and most of all, confidentiality. The only people who will know any name we give them would be the woman in charge of hiring us and their singular medical professional. There is no mode of communication to or from the compound outside of emergency lines to the organization and a single secure payphone located two miles away, there is no civilization within a twenty-five minute drive minimum, and this operation has been going long enough that the local authorities have long since grown used to being paid off, and likely don’t even remember what for anymore. I cash in a few valuable favors and ask this employer to turn a blind eye, we’d have somewhere remote and secure to spend our time after our deaths are faked and once the contract is over, we can start over. No ties to the past.”

“Freedom,” Jeremy marveled.

Silence for a few seconds, broken only by the quiet chatter of the rest of the diner. “I want to warn you, this work may not be glamorous. It may not even be particularly easy. I’m giving you the option of saying no,” Dad said.

“What?! Yes, hell yes, are you joking? To get us to living like normal people? Steady work? Livin’ in one place? Count me in!” he laughed.

“What if the job is something you won’t enjoy? Long hours, boring work?” Dad asked, entirely serious.

“I’m still on board.”

“What if the other people working there are rude to you? Disrespectful?”

“Well most of the people I meet through our job now try to kill us, so really it’s an upgrade.”

“What if there’s no diner nearby?” he asked, and there was a glint of humor in his eye.

“Damn, sorry, that’s the dealbreaker,” he joked right back, and that made him snort, shake his head, greet the waitress as she came back with their coffee and soda and then informed them that their food would be out shortly.

“I’ll ask,” was what Dad said once she was gone again, and that was that, and they started driving to New Mexico two nights later.

-

“—A warm welcome to our two newest recruits. This is the Spy, and this is the Guard.”

“Guard?” asked one of the men at the table, his accent thick and distinctly Russian. It made Jeremy tense slightly, but he didn’t let it show.

“Night Guard,” Jeremy answered, voice clipped.

“He’s not technically hired on as a mercenary like you all, he won’t be joining you on missions,” the short woman apparently named Miss Pauling (Jeremy was fairly sure it was a fake name) said, hands folded in front of her neatly. “He’s here to work security. Keep an eye out during the night, filter through the camera footage, handle the archiving, things like that.”

“We’re hiring on a civvie now?” asked another man, thick Scottish accent a little harder to digest than the eyepatch and the grenade he was in the process of fiddling with the internal mechanisms of.

“He’s combat ready, and will still be armed. His job is to essentially make sure you’re all safe enough to sleep through the night,” Miss Pauling said.

“I’m not some chump,” Jeremy agreed. “I know my stuff.”

“How old is he?” another man asked, this one in a hardhat with a heavy drawl, looking concerned.

“Twenty, for your information,” Jeremy said, a little sharply, eyes narrowed.

“If you have any other questions, there’ll be time later on. For now, I do need to show our two newest recruits where they’ll be staying,” Miss Pauling cut in.

There was an audible scoff from one of the men at the table, a dramatic rolling of eyes. Jeremy glared at him. He unfolded and refolded his extremely tattoo’d tree-trunk-like arms, tugging the visor of his hat between. “Sorry,” he said, accent thick and distinctly Californian. “I just don’t have the most trust for some scrawny kid in slacks and creep in a ski mask.”

“Scout, don’t start,” Miss Pauling warned.

“Just saying,” this man, apparently called Scout, muttered under his breath regardless.

“Don’t,” she said again, more firmly, and ignored the second eye roll she got for the trouble. “If you two would follow me.”

And they were shown around the base, and Jeremy in particular was shown into a room stuck behind three locked doors, where he found camera feeds and recording equipment. She gave him a basic overview and a thick packet of instructions and policies labelled ‘highly classified’ and a phone number to call if he had any further questions, and a set of hours that were apparently meant to become the new standard for him (with the quiet addendum that if he finished early that was alright, and that technically he could turn in early if two or more members of the team were already awake for the day and he was caught up on the archiving of old tapes).

Then he was left to “get used to the equipment”, which he assumed meant his dad was getting a similar rundown of his job, and it took a pretty quick glance through the packet to understand that clearly this place ran on an extremely secretive and closely monitored series of systems. In the packet, between the sections on camera maintenance and operation hours, were a few sheets detailing what were apparently the movement patterns of the various members of the team, including frequented locations and previously recorded large-scale infractions (mostly on the part of the Soldier, the Medic, the Scout, and one from the Demoman).

He wasn’t the one with the title Spy, but fuck, it seemed like he might as well have it. His entire job wasn’t even necessarily to keep the team safe overnight—he was just meant to watch all of them to make sure nobody was anywhere or doing anything out of the ordinary.

The next time he saw his dad, waiting outside the infirmary to get some sort of physical evaluation, his face was arranged carefully enough that he could tell he’d figured out something was up, too.

“Got your job assignments?” he asked quietly in French, glancing towards the door into the infirmary.

A nod, a glance. “I’m intrigued by the methods used in employee evaluation,” he deadpanned. “Especially the fact that apparently, they’re willing to assign employees for the explicit task of doing them.”

“How often?”

“Weekly.”

“Thorough,” Jeremy deadpanned, and glanced towards the hall at the distant sound of laughter, echoing from somewhere else on the base. “That’s basically mine too.”

There was a long silence, and when Jeremy looked back over, his dad was giving him an almost expectant look, waiting. All he had to offer him was a shrug, which was returned after a moment with a vague shake of the head. “I don’t believe it will be a problem,” his dad said simply. “Not for us, at the very least.”

Jeremy nodded. “Yeah. Uh, anyways, good luck with the… physical, or whatever,” he said, and received a pat on the shoulder before he walked back off down the hall, hoping to figure out what exactly he was supposed to do with an entire room all to himself. He’d almost never had one before.

-

He was used to time changes and jet lag, to needing to switch his sleep schedule on the regular, but the switch to a straight up night shift was a rough one.

His nine-to-five was actually a ten-to-six, as in 10 PM through 6 AM. This meant that, assuming he managed to get his schedule in order, he’d be able to join in on the team dinners if he woke up early and could eat breakfast with them before he went to bed.

Very quickly he realized that going to dinner and breakfast with the team was going to become a staple part of his routine, because it didn’t take long before he began to feel extremely lonely all of the time. In a dark little room, everyone else asleep, scrubbing through tapes from during the day while half keeping an eye on the live feed from around the base that never showed much of anything, it was brutal. It was suffocating.

It was easy, at least. It didn’t take long before he got efficient at it and could start zoning out, and it wasn’t like he was under much pressure. His was the only room without any cameras in it. Security risk, apparently. 
And to be honest, what small amount he and Dad interacted with mercenaries and other criminal types, Jeremy didn’t really tend to like them much. A lot of them were loud and rude and had the potential to turn around and try and kill them whenever they felt like it. He didn’t expect that he’d like the team as much as he did. He especially didn’t expect to like them so much without ever really talking to them.

But watching the camera feeds from throughout the day, seeing what they were up to, they were just... nice people. Soldier out by the dumpsters practicing rocket jumps and wrangling raccoons and apparently trying to learn how to spin a rifle, Pyro’s regular minor explosions in the kitchen while cooking and the surprised and frantic way they cleaned it up every time, the Demoman’s tendency to whistle wherever he went, watching through the feed as they all played cards and argued and jostled each other. They all seemed really nice. Really cool. Really dorky, too, but mostly just really nice and really cool.

And there were a few of them he was less sure about—he couldn’t get eyes on the Medic most of the time, what with the one camera in the Medbay being tilted down at an angle that made it hard to see much of anything but the occasional bird (probably by those same birds). The Heavy tended to just sit and read, and was pretty much silent most of the time otherwise. The Scout tended to leave the base pretty often. And the Sniper didn’t even live on base, he had a van outside that he could only occasionally see movement in when he squinted at the far edge of the camera leading outside. But even then, Heavy and Sniper mostly just seemed quiet, and Medic just seemed busy, and the Scout just seemed like a little bit of a dickhead.

But then one day when Jeremy was at breakfast the Heavy caught him leaning to try to get a look at the cover of the book he was reading, and he blurted that he was just wondering what book was so great that he’d stay up until like four in the morning reading, and then the entire team was gawking at him and asking questions and insisting that it was insane that there was someone actually watching all those cameras, and he shrugged and said there was always supposed to be someone watching the tapes back it was just usually some office worker type a hundred miles away. And they seemed almost... upset with him. And maybe that was fair, it wasn’t like he ever talked to any of them much, mostly he just spent breakfast and dinner half-asleep and listening to their chatter. And Demoman admitted that he’d honestly assumed that Jeremy slept his entire shift, he just always looked so tired at breakfast. There was almost this discomfort. This distrust.

And so, now that the jig was up, he made it a point to say some things to certain members of the team. To tell the Medic that his camera was tilted down so that he couldn’t see most of the room, and to very pointedly say that it was weird how that happened and that he didn’t know why they set it up like that in the first place, but it was really none of his business. Made it a point to warn the Engineer in the morning that the previous night, Soldier had been doing something in the fridge for a while, and to maybe check the labels before he made breakfast. Made it a point to tell the Demoman that the camera in his workshop was right in plain sight, and that if he moved one of his blackboards an inch or two to the left, it would obscure the room a pretty hefty amount. Made it a point to tell the Sniper that the camera on the rooftop seemed to be glitching out, and it’d just sort of lost the tapes of the previous two nights, and that it was really unfortunate since for all he knew there might have been someone ignoring the signs about there being no personnel allowed up there.

In return, he found that Pyro would sometimes make little sparkly notes with smiley faces on them and stick them to the door to the security room. That Sniper started tipping his hat at the camera above the door into the base from the garage. That on occasional drinking nights, the team would suddenly turn and start waving at the camera, laughing the whole way. On one night in particular he could hear through the low-quality and tinny speakers that they were trying to cajole him into leaving the security room for a while to join them for cards, and god, but he wanted to.

And he noticed more things. Soldier walking with a slight limp some days when rocket jumps had rough landings. Being able to count the doves in the infirmary and even tell them apart to some extent through blurry close-ups. The Engineer making it a point to sweep really regularly regardless of what project he was working on.

And then he noticed a weird thing.

It took him a long time to get used to the patterns of hallways, the cameras not really lined up linearly after a while, too many branching paths. He learned to follow progress, to flick from one camera to the next as someone walked around corners. And for a while he thought maybe he wasn’t very good at it.

Until he realized two things. First of all, that in a hallway where he knew there were five doors, he could only see four—apparently the door to Pyro’s room was just barely out of sight of the camera. He only figured it out because one day it swung open wide enough to almost bang against the wall.

And then, when he realized there was somehow that massive blindspot, that there was a corner with a blindspot too. One where that Scout kept disappearing.

He watched a few more times to make sure, and yep. He’d see the Engineer walking around the corner, flick to the next screen, and there he was, continuing down the hallway. And then later that same day, the Scout, walking, and flick to the next camera, and he wasn’t there.

One of the worse parts of the job was that he never got to see Dad anymore, never got to just sort of hang out the way they did all the time when he was growing up, and he knew he would miss it but he didn’t know how much. And he found it was even worse when he had something important to say, doubly so when he had something important to say but no idea if it was actually important.

He tried to bring it up casually, in the like ten minutes of time he ever got alone to talk to Dad. Dad was fighting the kettle trying to make some tea and he was trying to stay awake long enough to figure out how he was going to say this.

“Uh,” he said, and Dad looked at him. “So, uh, what’s the read you’re getting on that Scout guy?”

“Lazy,” Dad shrugged, looked back at the kettle. “Arrogant. He seems to care very little about doing his job correctly and has horrible communication on the field.”

“Right, right,” he nodded, fought a yawn down. “Uh. So like, kind of a dickhead.”

“Indeed,” Dad said, nodding vaguely.

“So uhhh... not the best.”

“Where are you going with this?” Dad asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

“I, I dunno, the guy just likes hanging out in this one blindspot in the cameras, and it’s kinda freaking me out,” Jeremy said, scratching at the back of his neck.

Dad frowned. “Strange. I wasn’t aware that there were any blindspots in the cameras.”

“There’s only a few, and only for pretty small spaces I think? But apparently he just likes hanging out in one of them.” Jeremy scuffed his shoe on the ground, glancing over as voices started echoing down the hall towards them. “Just thought it was weird.”

“I’ll look into it,” Dad muttered, voice quiet, and then raised it again slightly. “I refuse to keep up with sports.”

“C’mon,” Jeremy said, knowing this game well, changing subjects into something more normal as people entered earshot. “I’m not even asking you to keep up with sports, I’m just saying, I’d kill to go to a baseball game right about now.”

“The American Pasttime!” Soldier called from the room over.

“Exactly,” Jeremy agreed, nodding at Soldier as he also entered the kitchen, a half-asleep Demoman in tow.

“Any ghosties or ghoulies on the cameras last night, lad?” Demo had enough energy to ask, blinking blearily at the contents of the fridge.

“Oh, a billion,” Jeremy said.

“Guard!” Soldier barked, the most awake person in the room. “Should these ghost-ghouls appear again, don’t be afraid to point me in their direction! I have significant experience with them already and do not fear the likes of them!”

“Yeah sure,” Jeremy shrugged.

“You’re a champion, Guard,” Demo said with what was either a really disoriented blink or a wink, slugging him on the shoulder and wandering back out into the common room with the entire carton of milk in his other hand. Jeremy gave him a mock-salute that Soldier copied with absolute conviction. He and Dad shared a glance after the two of them left, and Jeremy was the first one to break, snickering under his breath.

“I’ll look into it,” Dad said, and also left the kitchen, and Jeremy nodded and started trying to remember what else he’d been planning on doing before bed.

-

“So,” Dad said a few days later, materializing next to Jeremy when he was in the middle of his jog and making him almost jump out of his skin, skidding to a stop.

“You’re enjoying that new watch way too much,” Jeremy panted, out of breath and still very much startled.

“Maybe,” Dad said, and he was smiling. “But as I was saying.”

“All you said was ‘so’,” Jeremy pointed out, giving him a look.

“There’s a juvenile joke here about how I’m your father and so of course I say ‘so’, but if you wouldn’t mind it, I did have something important to say, mon lapin,” Dad replied, and Jeremy rolled his eyes hard at the horrible joke and cheesy name, fighting back a smile of his own.

“Go for it,” he said, and took the opportunity to bend and tighten his shoelaces.

“So. Regarding that Scout and his habits. You mentioned he spends time in blind spots of the cameras, oui?” Dad asked.

“Yeah. Keeps, uh, I guess he keeps getting infractions for going off base too much, too. I’ve logged him leaving like three times this week already,” Jeremy nodded.

“Indeed. Well, considering how new we are to the team, I did not want to jump to conclusions, and so contacted Miss Pauling and asked on your behalf for any older records, and I found out something very... intriguing.”

Jeremy looked up at him, blinking. ‘Intriguing’, historically, had always been a very, very bad thing.

“Apparently, it has been two years since they last had a Guard situated on base. The previous one was a much older gentleman, retired from being a full member of the team due to health complications but not entirely ready to part with the company. The previous guard was somewhat strict, and the Scout—the same as we have now—very much disliked the man. He continued acquiring near-constant infractions under the man’s watch for leaving when he was not meant to, so much so that the previous Guard proposed enstating trackers on the team when they went off-base. And before this policy could take hold, the previous Guard left the base one day and did not return, and finally was found dead a state over, one month later.”

Jeremy blinked once, twice. “Holy shit,” he said, and took note of the wary look on his face. “Okay. So we’re thinkin’ the same thing, right?”

“I would assume so. And…” Dad hesitated, moved to fidget with his cufflinks. “And I would not be particularly concerned about this, as I’m confident that you wouldn’t have gotten his attention from what you’ve been up to lately, and therefore wouldn’t be in danger yet should history attempt to repeat itself, but… he’s already taken a disliking to you.”

“What?” he asked, eyebrows shooting up.

“I believe it’s something as simple as some sort of shallow jealousy. Another American on the team, also relatively young, filling the position of someone he disliked previously. He regularly complains about the fact that you don’t need to go do the same job as the rest of us.” Dad shrugged, glanced over at him. “That, combined with the fact that you have somewhat conflicting duties, well, he tends to rather tetchy. He claims that considering he’s meant to be the first line of defense, they shouldn’t also need a guard at night.”

Jeremy had a number of opinions about that, but he stuck to the most relevant ones. “I really don’t like this guy,” he said. “Might be, uh. Worth keeping an eye on.”

“Agreed.” Dad glanced back over his shoulder towards the base, then at his watch. “Enjoy the rest of your run. Don’t forget to eat.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, hit the bricks already, old man,” Jeremy scoffed, waving him off, and Dad rolled his eyes, disappearing again in a cloud of smoke. “You’re gonna be using that thing all the damn time now, aren’t you?”

“Oui,” came a voice from nowhere, and Jeremy huffed a laugh, meandering his way back into the rest of his jog.

-

Jeremy hummed along to the radio, flicking between cameras on autopilot and wondering when exactly to take his lunch break.

He didn’t face the clock or anything, so he wasn’t sure, but he thought he had a pretty solid rhythm at that point. Click, click, click, between the camera to the road, the camera to the main entrance, and the camera in the hall towards the middle of the building, for about one second each. At just about any time after 11 or 11:30, those were the only three in real time that he needed to keep an eye on, mostly for people coming back late from bar hopping or if Miss Pauling was rolling in on a delivery. All the other cameras he could see out of the corner of his eye, and any movement he’d pick up on pretty quick, even if it was usually just the doves fluttering on the camera to the Medbay. After he cycled through those (and there was almost never anything there) he’d cycle back through to the tape he had in, put it on high speed, and watch it for about two or three minutes, get through a chunk of that time. Mostly he’d just be making sure nobody had been in the base while the team was away ni o(which indeed there never was), so there wasn’t much of a reason to take it off high speed, and the second part of the night would be watching the tapes for the time the team was back on base.

Movement on a camera made him click the pause, and he glanced off to the side. One of the doves had shuffled to face the other direction. He rolled his eyes, looking back at the bigger monitor again and pressing play.

The second half of the night was a little more interesting. He just had to look at the tapes for the time the team was there, check for discrepancies that might point to Dad messing with the disguise technology off-the-clock or the enemy Spy having infiltrated. For the most part things were straightforward, but he at least got to see his teammates up to funny things sometimes. Pyro’s antics were usually entertaining. Soldier he only caught some of, on the basis of him often walking off out of range of the cameras when he went on his excursions. Demo was funny sometimes. Honestly, just seeing the Sniper anywhere but as a fuzzy distant shape was interesting.

Movement on a camera. Same dove. He ignored it. Click, click, click, all three cameras clear, back to the fast-forward of the same empty hallway as before.

He really needed to figure something out, for the Scout. Maybe he and Dad were just being paranoid. It would be insane for him to try to outright kill anyone who inconvenienced him, not to mention reckless, and stupid to boot. Acting like that in their line of work would make him a lot of enemies extremely quickly. It would make more sense for the old Guard disappearing to be unrelated, to be honest.

Yeah. Hell, he barely knew the guy, and here he was assuming he’d straight up whacked a guy for getting a little too on his case about something. Maybe they were wrong.

Movement on a camera. He glanced over and froze outright.

It took him five seconds to come to his senses enough to pause the playback on his screen.

Figures. Shapes. Not at the front entrance, in the hallway, there next to the back way, by the garage. At least three, moving carefully, hard to make out in the darkness.

Okay. Okay, don’t panic, focus.

Jeremy ran through a few things in his head. He’d already done a headcount, the only people he wasn’t sure about were the Sniper and the Medic, but he hadn’t seen the Medic in any of the hallways out of the infirmary. Three figures were two too many to be any of the team, and besides that, they didn’t look like the Medic. Too short to be the Sniper, moving differently. Different clothes.

Three people. He hopped up, rushed over to the wall, yanked open the panel he had there. Three buttons, which he needed to hit in order. The first would send an alert to Miss Pauling, the second to whoever was assigned to be on alert that night, the third would set off the alarm.

He hit the first, hit the second, and hesitated on the third.

Okay. Technically if he didn’t hit that third button, he’d be breaking protocol, which was, according to the manual, ‘grounds for termination’. He was pretty sure that meant a long swim with some concrete shoes. And it was apparently recorded every time he hit these buttons, so they could deduct from his pay on false alerts. So they’d know if he didn’t hit this third button. He needed to think fast.

This was a different button than the alert button. The alert was more subtle, set for just one person. The alarm was throughout the entire base, over every loudspeaker. Louder than a fire alarm. If he hit this one, these intruders would hear that there was an alarm going off. Anyone smart would book it, high tail it the hell out of there. But he still didn’t know where they came from.

There hadn’t been movement on any of the screens, and he looked at the camera feed facing the road already, a few times even. He should’ve seen them. And if they found their way in once, they could do it again.

If he didn’t hit the button, on the other hand, whoever was on alert would wake up and wonder why they’d gotten an alert but the alarm wasn’t going off. If they were clever, which they probably were if they’d lasted this long, they’d come to the security room to see what was up and they could work from there.

He closed the panel again and moved to wait.

A minute later, still no movement from the hallway where most of the rooms were. That was fine, they’d just woken up, and probably needed to get dressed and grab their guns.

Another minute later, no movement, which was fair, they just needed a second to get their bearings. The intruders, meanwhile, were just lurking, slowly making their way down the hall.

Another minute later, no movement, and he opened the panel to press the button again before he continued waiting. Maybe they didn’t hear him the first time.

Another minute later and he took to standing next to the panel, mashing the button rapidly, eyes on the screen where the intruders were passing the kitchen, starting to get pretty far into the building.

Another minute later and he stomped his way into his sneakers, grabbing his flashlight and gun and guard cap from where they were hung on the wall. “Fine, I’ll fucking do it myself,” he grumbled, and carefully shouldered open the door, taking one last glance at the camera before he shut the door behind himself.

He kept his footsteps quiet, squinting into the darkness, waiting for his eyes to finish adjusting as he crept towards where he’d last seen the figures. It was near-silent in the base at night except for the distant, quiet hum of generators and occasional shift of plumbing. It was getting more and more familiar, and he found himself able to tune it out somewhat, instead listening intently for footsteps besides his own, making sure to click the safety off his gun while he was still alone and not when he was close to whoever had decided to break in.

Okay. Dad did this all the time. He could handle this.

He slowed as he approached the corner near the kitchen, peering around as carefully as he could, tugging down the brim of his cap to try and hide any potential shine from his eyes. He caught sight of a vague shape standing near the doorway, hesitating before it crept inside, into the common area.

Not ideal, on the basis of that being their goddamn kitchen, but at least there would be cover.

By the time he managed to sneak up to the doorway, he could make out the sound of vague whispering. It was far enough that it gave him the boldness to peer into the room, and just slightly lit by the glow of the clock on the oven he could see two shapes there in the kitchen, the third lingering nearer to him, there by the table.

Jeremy was only just starting to make a plan, relieved to have the jump on them, when there was the distant sound of a generator humming to life, and all the figures stopped, paused for a moment.

“Fucking spooky here,” one whispered, barely audible.

“Calm down,” another whispered. “What, scared of ghosts?”

Jeremy inhaled, exhaled, shifted onto the balls of his feet and started creeping a little further into the room. If he could just get all three of them to one side, so he wouldn’t need to pivot so much…

“You don’t know, maybe there’s ghosts here,” the first protested, and swore quietly at what sounded like their winging their elbow against the corner of the tale, and Jeremy tried to stick near the wall, managed to creep half-behind one of the chairs, trying to keep his silhouette indistinct. “These guys kill people.”

“So do we,” the third mumbled, moving out of sight in the kitchen, and Jeremy bit down on a swear, starting to inch behind the couch. “Don’t be a coward. And stop making so much noise.”

“You can’t shoot a ghost,” the first pointed out, moving a bit closer to the kitchen, giving the table a wide berth now. “Or punch it.”

“I can try,” the second said, and stopped at the sound of a rustle.

Jeremy held his breath, weight half-balanced against where he’d tried to step, newspaper trapped beneath his foot.

“That one wasn’t me,” the first whispered. There was another, more significant rustle throughout the room, and Jeremy could see a glint as the intruders drew their weapons.

Jeremy inhaled, exhaled, and just barely managed not to swear out loud.

The first one was the closest by, lingering beside the arm of the couch Jeremy was crouched in the shadow of. “Do they have a cat here?” they asked, voice quiet.

The second was approaching into the main room more carefully. From the sound of the footsteps, trying to keep a shoulder closer to the wall, clearly paying more attention to the door. “Are you stupid or something?” was the reply, voice also quiet.

The third didn’t speak, but huffed out a laugh, which was enough to tell Jeremy that he was out of the kitchen.

Jeremy inhaled shakily, exhaled shakily, shifted his grip on his handgun and flashlight, and took a split second to think. Inhaled one more time.

He leapt to his feet, swinging his flashlight like a billy club and clobbering the first figure across the side of the head, sending them tumbling to the ground. From the sound of the impact, a dislocated jaw at the very least. One down.

A shout from the other side of the room, arms moving to try to aim, clearly struggling to see him, but that third figure was in the doorway, silhouetted against the faint light from the oven’s clock, and that was enough to figure out where the head and chest were. He aimed, fired, got what he was pretty sure was the neck considering the brief spray of blood that splattered against the oven, darkening the room completely.

A swear from the second figure, and Jeremy wanted to swear too, because he’d hoped that second figure would be stupid and try and charge him, but now he was ten steps away and didn’t have time to fiddle with and cock the gun again, other hand full with a flashlight and no way to—

Oh, duh.

“Stay where you are,” the second figure ordered, but Jeremy’s eyes were a little better adjusted and besides that, he wasn’t the one talking. He lifted his flashlight and clicked it on.

The second figure cried out, recoiling at the sudden blindingly bright light in what had been near-darkness, and Jeremy had time to finagle his thumb up to cock his gun again, now able to aim with absolute accuracy, this shot connecting with the figure’s head.

He exhaled.

It took Jeremy two minutes to remember to fire a bullet into the chest of the unconscious guy, and another minute for the other mercenaries to start showing up, half-dressed and armed. Dad, presumably to prove a point, showed up pretty close to the middle of the pack almost fully dressed. Jeremy wasn’t entirely sure how long it took before Miss Pauling showed up, but he wasn’t even halfway through their questions by that time.

“Guard, headcount?” she asked before she even bothered saying hello, still wearing her motorcycle helmet and looking more than a little bit miffed.

“Uh,” he said, eyes drawn away from where Medic was assessing the bodies on the kitchen table, “seven present and accounted for. Sniper’s probably out at his van, don’t know about the Scout.”

“Alright. Pyro,” she said, and Pyro stood at attention, bunny slippers squeaking at the movement. “go wake up Sniper and get him in here.”

Pyro nodded, handing their weird unicorn plushie thing to Jeremy as they passed by, giving him a solemn nod before hurrying away.

“Okay. Guard, hit me with a rundown, then,” she said, and shot a glance around the room. “No peanut gallery needed. And Medic, please don’t take them apart too much. I gotta get rid of those later.”

“Uh. Spotted these guys on the cameras, hit the first and second alerts,” Jeremy said.

“And not the third?” she asked pointedly.

“They were, like, right next to the door, and—here’s the thing, Miss P, is I dunno how the hell they got in here,” he said, and there was a general balk from the room. “No, seriously. They didn’t come in on the main road, they were in one of the back hallways by the garage. There’s gotta be a hole in the cameras or something, because I seriously don’t know where they came from. And if they booked it, they’d take whatever vehicle they used to get here, too, and we might not figure it out. Thought I’d just wait for whoever the hell was supposed to be on alert so we could… I dunno, at least see which way they went.”

“Guard,” she admonished, and he shrank a little bit. “That was incredibly reckless. What if nobody had shown up to help you?”

“Uh,” he said, blinked, “but… nobody did show up.”

A pause. She blinked. “What? You’re the one who did that?” she asked, entirely shocked, pointing towards the three bodies on the table.

“Uh, yeah? Isn’t that my job?” he asked carefully, shifting the stuffed animal under his arm.

“No, you’re—you’re just supposed to be the Guard, you’re supposed to watch cameras, not—“ She paused, taking a second to push up her glasses and rub at the bridge of her nose, inhaling, exhaling. “Okay. Points for… going above and beyond, here, but Guard, don’t do that again.”

“Sure thing, Miss P,” he mumbled, tugging on the brim of his guard cap, and sighed to himself as Miss Pauling moved away to try and stop Medic from attempting to covertly steal a few organs from the corpses. Dad clapped him on the shoulder supportively, and that did make him feel a little better. He wasn’t expecting a clap to the other shoulder, and looked up, surprised to see Heavy there, looking just slightly less grim than usual.

“Little Guard man is credit to team,” he said simply, solemnly.

Jeremy straightened up slightly. “Oh. Hey, thanks,” he said. Heavy nodded at him.

“It’s true,” Demo called, and he looked over, got another approving nod. “Really saved the lot of us, lad.”

“I, I mean, hey, it’s… what I’m here for. Or, uh. I thought that was it, anyways,” he shrugged, glancing away. “I mean, yeah, I’m pretty cool, though.”

Dad bumped his arm for the last part, and he snickered. “My question,” Dad continued, doing his best to ignore him, “is primarily regarding who, precisely, was supposed to be present to help Guard with this. Who is meant to be on alert?”

“It’s meant to be Scout, ain’t it?” the Engineer asked from nearby, frowning. A general murmur of agreement. “Could he have slept through it?”

“Heavy doubts this,” Heavy grumbled, looking troubled.

“Why’re we awake?” asked Sniper from the doorway, and various teammates called out a greeting. Sniper seemed half-gone, and completely grumpy, but not as grumpy as Pyro, and not nearly as gone as the man leaning heavily against Pyro’s shoulder.

“Hey,” the Scout managed, grinning, speech garbled, visibly sloppy and unbalanced. “What’s up, guys?”

Groans from parts of the room. “Drinkin’ again, Scout?” the Engineer drawled, visibly irritated.

“That’s my trademark, lad, go on,” Demo laughed, but the enthusiasm wasn’t entirely there.

“Scout,” Miss Pauling said, voice firm in a way that made Jeremy almost flinch in sympathy. “Are you aware that we’ve had a situation here while you’ve been sleeping?”

“Weren’t sleeping,” Sniper murmured, and eyes turned to him. He scratched at the back of his neck. “Came stumbling in ‘round when I was heading in. He was out for the night. Bar, looks like.”

“What?” Jeremy demanded. “Why the fuck didn’t I see him leave on the cameras?”

“Alright,” Miss Pauling said, and Jeremy looked at her. Her expression was hard to read. “It’s possible he went through the back tunnel.”

“Back tunnel?” Jeremy asked, and glanced around. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t heard of it.

“For emergencies only. Scout’s the only one who I’ve given a key card to. I have one too. It’s supposed to be used for transporting especially sensitive information, most of the team isn’t supposed to even know it exists. If there’s a gap in the cameras around the back of the building, he might have been using it to… sneak out to go to town, even though he knows he’s already in hot water for leaving the base so much,” Miss Pauling said, glaring at Scout, who was looking increasingly annoyed.

“Whatever, it’s not a big deal,” he protested, scoffing.

“That tunnel is for emergencies only,” Miss Pauling stressed. “I trusted you with the privilege of knowing about it account of having worked here for so long, and you’re using that privilege and key card to mess around?”

“He was coming back from around the front of the building, at least,” Sniper chimed in, and Pyro nodded. “Not that I’d understand the point of sneaking out if he’s going to just walk back in the front door.”

“Key card?” Medic repeated from near the table, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, it’s, it’s a magnetized card, that can be read by a card reader, used like a key,” Miss Pauling explained, deflating a little bit.

His eyebrows furrowed further. “Would it happen to look anything like this?” he asked, picking up a lanyard from the table and holding it up, showing the room the card clipped onto the end of it.

Two beats of silence. “Spy, would you mind?” Miss Pauling asked politely, nodding towards the Scout, who had gone pale.

“Not at all,” Dad said just as politely, and walked over towards the Scout and Pyro, then circled around behind them, and sank a blade into the Scout’s spine. He promptly crumbled to the floor, dead.

“Well. At least that’s that mystery solved,” Miss Pauling sighed, and rubbed at the bridge of her nose again. “Now I’ve gotta block off time tomorrow to get rid of three bodies, and then hopefully that’s the last we’re gonna hear of this or else the Administrator is gonna kill me.”

“What about the Scout?” Heavy rumbled.

“…Scratch that. Four bodies,” she mumbled, face dropping into her hands. “And then I need to find his replacement. Ugh.”

“Can’t imagine you’d need to go far,” Demo said, and Jeremy looked up, and Demo was very obviously tilting a thumb in his direction.

“He’s proven himself to be better at this job,” Dad agreed, shrugging. “And I would say on a bad day he’s still a better runner than the previous Scout on a good one.”

“He can clearly handle a firearm well,” the Engineer noted, looking over one of the bodies.

“And a blunt object,” Medic chimed, just a bit too pleased. “This jaw is almost completely shattered!”

“Okay, okay, fine, sure,” Miss Pauling waved off, one hand still pressed to her face, clearly overwhelmed and tired. “We’ll get his paperwork in tomorrow. Congratulations, you’re the new Scout, any questions? Can the questions wait until morning? Great, thank you. Good night, everyone. Medic, have the bodies in bags for me at least, okay?”

A distracted thumbs up from Medic, and Miss Pauling was groaning, wandering back out of the room, and most of the team followed, yawning amongst themselves. Sniper half-attempted to ask again why the hell any of them were awake, but gave up halfway through. Pyro, for one, made sure to at least retrieve the plushie from Scout’s arms before wandering off, giving him an appreciative pat on the shoulder.

“So,” Dad said, and when he looked over, he was smiling. “A promotion, mon lapin. Congratulations, new Scout.”

“Do I gotta wear that stupid outfit he always wears?” Jeremy asked, entirely serious. His reply was a laugh and a pat on the shoulder before he disappeared in a puff of smoke. “Pops, I’m serious. Do I? Dad!?”

-

“—So that’s why I figured, y’know, might as well tell you guys,” Jeremy finished rambling, hands in his pockets, continuing down the hallway. “Because… I dunno. I could tell Miss P, but it’s nice having secret stuff, y’know?”

“You think this is how they actually got in?” Demo asked, looking dubious. “Little blind spot in the cameras?”

“Only a couple feet wide, you said?” Sniper grumbled.

“Sounds possible,” Heavy said hesitantly.

“I dunno. Maybe. But if I tell Miss P about it, they’re gonna fix it,” Jeremy shrugged, turning the corner and stopping. “There. I knew it.”

They stopped with him, following his line of sight. “You’re takin’ the piss, mate,” Sniper deadpanned. “You want to tell me he’d been climbing out a window like a teenager?”

Jeremy shrugged, moving to open the window in question. It swung open easily, just large enough to push through with only a little bit of a problem, barely needing to turn his shoulders. “He’s not much bigger than me, and what the hell else would he be doing here?” he pointed out.

“Heavy cannot fit through that window,” Heavy deadpanned.

“Yeah. Sorry, big guy,” Jeremy apologized, leaning back inside and closing it again. “But hey, mystery solved, right?”

“Well, if I ever need windows to climb out of, now I know just the lad for the job,” Demo said, nudging him. “Thanks, Guard. Or, er, Scout. Och, now that’s going to take getting used to, aye? Might just stick to calling you ‘laddie’, laddie.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he laughed, nudging him right back. And as much as they ribbed him for it, he did see a kind of appreciation there. Just like he’d figured, they seemed to take note of him taking their side and not just Miss Pauling’s.

Now he just needed to switch back over to the day shift.

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Tf2 headcanons? Aw yeah! So let's say a new merc joins the team. They're a total asshole: Cocky, sarcastic, overconfident, refuse help. But both Spy and Scout see right through that, it's a defense mechanism. How do they go about making this person comfortable enough to not be an asshole?

*chanting* HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMF

Okay, jokes aside, this is one of my favorite tropes. Maybe I’m too naïve to believe that some people are just mean to be mean, or maybe it’s a sort of comfort to know that even the worst people can be understood, but either way, WOOOOOOOOO!

*****************

An Ass For An Ass

Headcanons

Scout:

To be honest, Scout’s threshold for asshole-ery is pretty high. Growing up with eight brothers will do that to you.

But when the new recruit came around, something immediately rubbed him the wrong way.

Recruit always stole his thunder with the crass jokes and over-the-top displays. Every battle turned into a competition, which messed with Scout’s system of fighting. He never had to focus much on his own team before, and now he had to worry about keeping his own reputation upheld while trying not to get stabbed, shot, or blown up.

Recruit also kept hitting on Miss Pauling - even after reminding them again and again that she was lesbian, and was not and never will be into dudes.

“Come on…you just haven’t been with a real man yet…”

“No, no, I’ve been with a lot of men. Real men. I just wasn’t into any of them. After a while, it was kind of obvious.”

But what really pissed a lot of people off was Recruit’s fighting style.

They were an absolute monster on the field - that’s why they were chosen - but every interaction was treated as some sort of survival scenario.

One would think that would be a good thing, but Recruit was ridiculous.

No matter what the situation was, he was fine, he was okay, he could take it, he could fix it.

He could be killed only inches away from a Medic because he would never yell for one. Sometimes Recruit would even show visible anger at being healed. It got to the point where Medic didn’t heal him at all, and just allowed him to die as to not waste time he could give too more grateful patients.

Missions were even worse.

He followed orders to a T, but Pauling had to beg him to leave a failed mission, or to leave without completely destroying the site.

Everyone just took it as Recruit showing off, or having something to prove as a rookie.

It was annoying, but ultimately harmless in most circumstances.

However, it all came to a head when Recruit tried disengage a sentry by himself and was severely injured.

Both Engineer and Medic, who had had to fix most of Recruit’s past and current recklessness, ripped him a new one, one chewing out after the other.

“What we’re you thinkin’, son?! One crossed wire and you woulda blown the whole base!”

“Zhe only reason you are allowed in my lab at all is because it’s in my contract. Personally, I vould have rather left nature to it…”

Since then, Recruit did exactly as he was told, and nothing else. And most of the team liked it that way.

But Scout recognized some warning signs immediately. Fatigue, near silence except for missions, self-isolation, snapping when people got too close…it all paved the way for a pretty nasty (and, for Scout, very familiar) result.

One night, Recruit was sitting on the balcony, and Scout came out with two bottles - a beer for Recruit and a root beer for himself.

(Scout can only drink on the weekends because one, unlike most, he can’t go to work hung over because his job requires a lot of movement, and two, he has no restraint and can’t stop once he starts.)

“What do you want?”

Scout shrugged. “Depends.”

“On what?!”

“What are ya willin’ to tell me?”

Recruit just looked at the beer and sneered.

“Can’t we just skip this?” Scout said. “Maybe get to the part where you tell me what kinda Sally Sob Story we’re dealin’ with here?”

Recruit looked away.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t tell me you don’t got one. ‘Cause you do. I can see it a mile away. So what happened? Pop leave? Somebody died? Lotta brothers and sisters? Ma had a few too many and smacked ya around?”

Recruit didn’t turn around, but Scout could tell he was crying. He had hit a sore spot. Hard.

“Hey, pal, listen…”

Scout trailed off, then slowly began again.

“…the only reason I know is ‘cause I’ve been through it, ‘kay? Outta everybody I knew, I only trusted me. And that was great when I did a good job, ‘cause I knew I put me there.”

Scout opened his bottle of root beer and took a long swig.

“But when I screwed somethin’ up, it’s like everybody I ever knew just let me down. The one thing I could count on was gone.”

Recruit looked at Scout with tears in his eyes.

“But ya can’t do everything by yourself,” Scout continued. “Believe me. I learned that the hard way.”

Scout laughed, but it was mostly to clear the air. He didn’t get serious very often.

Recruit hadn’t touched his beer, but was leaned over the balcony with his head in his hands.

Scout sighed and looked up at the stars.

“But here’s somethin’ that nobody told me - it gets easier, y’know that? You just gotta relax and cut yourself some slack.”

Recruit shifted uncomfortably. “But the Administrator said…”

“Yeah yeah yeah, I know what she said. Gave ya that whole speech about how bein’ part of the team means discipline and focus and whatever. It’s all bull crap. She don’t know the first thing about bein’ on the field. If she did, why’d she hire us?”

“Sh-she said my perseverance was an asset to the team.”

“Perseverance, my ass. You know what would be an asset to the team? Stayin’ alive for more than fifteen minutes!”

Recruit looked at his feet. He had blinked away his tears, but he still looked on the verge of falling apart.

Scout put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it a little.

“You’re a great fighter, Recruit. You’re one of the best…that’s why you’re here. You got nothin’ to prove to nobody. Not to me, not to the team, not to the Administrator…not even to yourself. You’ve made it, kid. You’ve made it.”

Scout slid his hand off Recruit and started to walk away.

“Hey.”

Scout turned to see Recruit in the process of opening his beer.

“Thanks.”

Scout smiled. “No problem, pal. Plenty more under Demo’s mattress.”

“No, I mean…for that. I needed that tonight.”

“Oh…yeah! Sure. Don’t worry about it.”

Scout went back inside and to his room - but not before checking the cameras on the balcony a few times. Just in case.

Over the next few months, Scout kept helping Recruit break some old bad habits.

Recruit learned to take criticism without getting angry, to leave tanked missions, and to take care of himself.

He still occasionally flirted with Miss Pauling, but it was now more of an inside joke than anything.

Recruit still isn’t perfect - he still cringes a little when he’s healed, and falls back into survival mode when times are stressful - but he is now a much happier, much healthier person.

Spy:

Spy’s asshole wasn’t a merc, per se.

They were more of an informant, usually giving out important facts about locations, missions, and a target’s history.

Sometimes they would even use the Administrator’s PA system to announce new rules and reminders.

This would be perfectly fine - after all, you get kind of tired of hearing the Administrator all the time - except for the fact that Informant was the most sarcastic, most nasally, most apathetic, most matter-of-fact person on earth.

Even outside of a work setting, which was rare because they stayed in their office most of the time, Informant would go out of their way to be as condescending as possible.

Especially to whoever they considered to be in the “less intelligent” category: Heavy, Pyro, Scout, Demo, and Soldier.

To all the “others,” he turned every briefing into a contest to see who knew more at any given time…which, of course, usually meant he won.

“Now, does anyone know where his address is? Come on, any takers? Yeah, I thought so.”

Unlike Recruit, which would only warrant a few grumbles here and there from the team, Informant was the subject of a lot of hissed complaints and terrible rants from even the calmest of members.

Informant was the only one who could get under Heavy’s skin - a personal pet peeve of his was being considered less intelligent or less of a human being because English wasn’t his first language, which Informant chose to remind him of constantly.

It began with a few simple jabs at his grammar or word structure, but once Informant figured out that Heavy wouldn’t hurt a fly outside of battle, the taunts grew more and more daring.

Heavy would usually ignore Informant, which would only exacerbate their need to be noticed. This led to some pretty nasty interactions - from spouting the statistics of Russia’s average intelligence to even saying Heavy was a disgrace to his country by being a literature major.

“How’s that Russian literature major treating you? You know - in America.”

Sniper and Medic had tried to set Informant straight, but Heavy refused to accept any help. This was something that was his to bear, and his alone. He knew that they both took their own helping of harassment.

But one day, Informant went a little to far.

He did the one thing you should never do: insult Heavy’s family.

“You mother and sisters can’t do anything more than wait for you. No wonder you’re the only source of income.”

Before he knew it, Informant was against a wall, struggling to breathe, blood running into his eyes.

Heavy walked away after the incident, and told Medic about it, but he refused to heal him. Informant had called Medic a Nazi on more than one occasion.

This, finally, is where Spy comes in.

Spy was walking by Informant’s office, when he heard a strange sound - barely suppressed hiccups and sobs.

Despite his aversion to displays of emotion, the promise of seeing one of his greatest enemies as their lowest was too amusing to resist.

He knocked lightly on the door, then slowly opened it - always the master of drama.

Informant was under their desk, bloodied and bruised, sobbing into their knees.

Spy entered noiselessly, sitting in Informant’s office chair and lighting a cigarette.

It was only when Spy made a dramatic exhale of the smoke that Informant looked up, tears streaking their face.

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Spy finally spoke.

“Oh, how the mighty fall. Flown too close to the sun, have we?”

Informant couldn’t do much more than snivel and retreat farther below the desk.

“Who did it?” Spy asked. “I want to give them my regards…and maybe a bottle of wine.”

“H-Heavy…”

“Oh? Well, if anyone can bring him to blows, it’s you.”

Spy put his feet on the desk and continued to blow smoke out of his nose, thinking.

“It’s strange,” he said. “Most offices have at least a few pictures of family. A trip to the beach, perhaps the zoo…?”

He took a quick glance around.

“No children. No army mates. No graduation photos or a large catch at a local lake. The only personal item you have is this…”

Spy picked up a Rubik’s Cube. The plastic still around it crinkled.

“Unused.”

Informant looked at the floor.

“I like to keep my personal and professional life separate.”

Spy pursed his lips and squinted.

“How noble of you. But I don’t think that’s the case. You know what I think, Informant?”

Spy took his feet of the desk and bent down, looking Informant in the eyes.

“I don’t think you have a life.”

Informant’s eyes went wide for a moment, then his face immediately crumpled. Bullseye.

Spy smirked and got up from the chair, starting to leave.

Informant’s sniffling turned into sobbing, and before Spy could put his hand on the doorknob, muffled wailing filled the office.

Spy closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. He was trying not to remember something. But the imagery was too strong.

He remembered hiding under a table, like Informant was. People screaming and cursing at each other in French. His knees all scarred and his nose runny from a cold that should have resolved weeks ago. Waltz music coming from next door, trying to drown out the fighting. Glass breaking. Biting his knuckles so he wouldn’t whimper or cry.

Spy’s hand closed into fist. He took a deep breath, and turned to face Informant again.

“But to be fair…”

He walked towards the desk, putting his hand in his suit pocket. He got on his knees and pulled out a pink handkerchief.

“…I don’t have one either.”

He offered the handkerchief to Informant, who put it to his face, still staring at Spy through red eyes.

The pair were silent for a moment, with Spy putting out his cigarette and lighting a new one while Informant cleaned themselves up.

“But the difference between you and I,” Spy said, his voice wavering a bit, “is that I am a Spy. If my information got into the wrong hands, it could be the end of me and my team.”

He tapped his cigarette on a nearby trash can, letting the ashes fall into it.

“But what are you hiding from?”

Informant took a shaky inhale, the handkerchief still covering his nose and mouth.

“W-what?”

“Why do you feel the need to be, as Scout puts it, a tier five jerkazoid?”

Informant sniffled. “I…I didn’t think I took it that far.”

“Took what that far?”

“I just…snrk…I thought that’s what I had to do to get them to take me seriously.”

Informant laughed, but their heart wasn’t in it.

“I’m five foot four with red hair and freckles. I look more like someone’s Andy doll than a contract killer. I thought maybe if I knew everything…I’d be worth it.”

They shrugged.

“At best, they’d be impressed. At worst, they would never get close enough to me to know the truth: the only reason why I’m here is because I can rattle off a few names and that I had good grades in school because I had nothing better to do.”

Spy’s chest ached. He didn’t know why, but it was a strange feeling to him.

“Mon ami…”

He cleared his throat.

“If half of the team is any indication, you don’t need to be Nikola Tesla to be hired. Hell, the fact you can read is an anomaly in itself. But there is something you must understand…”

Spy cleared his throat again. His voice had gotten quite unstable all of a sudden.

“Intelligence is measured in different ways. Scout could never read even the simplest of children’s books, but his physical intelligence - reflexes, spatial awareness, aim - is phenomenal. Medic would have to put my spine back together if I even attempted to do what he does on the field.”

Informant snickered at the joke, or perhaps the image it conjured.

“And me,” Spy continued. “I can speak almost any language, adjust to any social setting, charm anyone, fool anyone…kill anyone. Just like you, I can remember, and I use the information I absorb mostly to show how superior I am to all my lowly colleagues.”

Spy furrowed his brow and looked away.

“But I know less about myself than even my enemies. I have hidden it so deep within my mind that I can hardly remember…or perhaps would rather not remember…who I was before this mask of mine.”

Informant hesitated. “I…I’m sorry, Spy.”

Spy sneered and puffed a few smoke rings.

“I don’t want your sympathy. I want you to have some self-respect - and respect for my teammates. Because next time you are beaten within an inch of your life, you might catch me in a less generous mood.”

With that, Spy got up, reached into his suit pocket and presented a small MediKit, which he tossed to Informant.

“I’d suggest freshening up before going to any more briefings.”

Informant nodded, and set to work healing himself.

Spy started to leave, then stuck his head back in.

“And hang a few posters, would you? Your office looks like a prison cell.”

Finally, the Frenchman took his leave, adjusting his suit and nodding solemnly to the team members he happened to pass - or scowling at them, depending.

He glanced over the security feed, and once he was satisfied, made his way to his smoking room.

Spy closed the heavy oak door, poured himself a small glass of scotch, and sat down in his chair next to the fireplace.

He put a magazine on his knee and began to flip through the pages, but his gaze soon started to wander.

He closed the magazine, tossed it into the fire, leaned into his hand, and wept.

…So what became of Informant?

Well, after a reluctant heal from Medic and a few well-deserved apologies, Informant began to try and break the cycle of self-sabotage.

The process took a lot longer than Recruit’s did - especially since Informant’s transgressions were a lot more egregious - but, little by little, they began to heal.

A lot of the time, the other mercs would have to tell them to tone it down a bit, or to cut him off completely if necessary.

Informant still almost has a panic attack if he doesn’t have the right papers, and his office is still pretty bare, but he took Spy’s advice - a few AC/DC posters hang on the leftmost wall.

As for Spy, well…he needs to have a talk with Medic.

******************

I am so sorry…this is all so messy and weird. One is so much longer than the other, and I’m not even sure half the dialogue sounds right.

The two headcanons were just typed out at different times, the first where I had less motivation and the second when I had more motivation. This wasn’t on purpose, it just happened.

I hope you still like it, though!

[hohoz]

The ones that suffer the most

I wanted to talk about this for a long time.

I’m a Resident evil addicted, I finished almost every RE game released and I must say that Capcom made some poor choices regarding Jill and Chris, they are EASILY the most mistreated characters in RE Franchise. 

But let’s explain why is that: 

Jill and Chris are survivors, they had to survive in a mansion with a lot of puzzles and zombies, while looking for items that could help them to progress and find a way to reach Brad. 

When they arrive at STARS Office, they are revolted that Umbrella did all that under their noses and innocents were dying because of that and they explained EVERYTHING in a report - but Irons made that go away. 

In the ORIGINAL RE3 we had this special file (Jill’s Diary) 

August 7th Two weeks have passed since that day. My wounds have been healed, but I just can't forget it. For most people, it's history now. But for me, whenever I close my eyes, it all comes back clearly. Zombies eating people's flesh and the screams of my teammates dying. No, the wounds in my heart are not healed yet...

August 13th Chris has been causing a lot of trouble recently. What's with him? He seldom talks to the other police members and is constantly irritated. The other day, he punched Elran of the Boy's Crime department just for accidentally splashing Chris's face with coffee. I immediately stopped Chris, but when he saw me he just gave me a wink and walked away. I wonder what happened to him...

August 15th Midnight. Chris, who has been on a leave of absence for a "vacation," called me so I visited his apartment. As soon as I walked into his room, he showed me a couple of pieces of paper. They were part of a virus research report entitled as simply as "G". Then Chris told me that, "The nightmare still continues." He went on to say that, "It's not over yet." Ever since that day, he has been fighting all by himself without rest, without even telling me.

August 24th Chris left the town today to go to Europe. Barry told me that he would send his family to Canada and then he would follow Chris. I decided to remain in Raccoon City for a while because I know that the research facility in this city will be very important to this entire case. In a month or so, I'll be joining with them somewhere in Europe. That's when my real battle begins...

For some weird reason this file isn’t available in RE3 Remake. 

But ok, here we see that Chris was doing some investigation - in the RE2RMK  you could see this letter that Chris left in a way that normal people wouldn't understand - the only thing that Claire says is that “doesnt look like him” but how normies would understand what Chris is like is he is not well represented in media ??????????????????

And Jill had all the detective work in her wall. 

So far so good - we understand the basics about them - they are Special police force, the elite, they had a traumatic experience and they survived to tell the story. 

Some problems until now:

Jill had a MAJOR personality change in RE3 RMK- I honestly like most of that, she is a badass in the originals and she is a badass in the rmk but I still dislike the fact that she swears all the time (specially because in RE1, RE Rev, RE5 she doesn't do that) 

We can tell a lot about her personality just looking at her room, but I still miss some stuff (I had expectations - so this is not a real problem. but still) like a Vinyl player (since she is probably into classical music), some letters from her father so new players can understand her origin and why is she so good in lockpicking and more about her dog (she had a pic in the original that could’ve been her boyfriend but it was replaced by a dog in RE2 rmk but in RE3 Rmk there in no dog) 

Okay - after you finish the game the only thing we see is this: 

In my opinion this is Chris since he is always associated with Green colors while Jill is associated with blue. 

So my speculation here is that she found him while in the original we had this: 

This is not a major chance but still is important (lore of course - duh) but the problem here is that while Jill is looking for him - Code Veronica is happening. 

So I can only assume two things, they did not show him because they DON’T HAVE A FACE FOR HIM or I am wrong and that is Jill, but if that is Jill so why there is no decent epilogue like the original ? 

Okay, now we are arriving in the real trouble area

I will do RE5 first and the Wii and Rev1 (even tho those two comes first in the lore) 

RESIDENT EVIL 5 

So before the game was release we had some propaganda, including this: 

So have in mind that Jill was dead, I thought that she died and RE5 would explain that shit. 

But in the beginning we see that Chris is looking for her and have in mind that Chris HAD A MAJOR CHANCE IN HIS APPEARANCE, and I’m not talking about his muscles. 

I will not address Chris in CV since he was good in that game but I the team that made CV also made the original, it had CONSISTENCE. 

Here we have Chris, he’s THE classical american soldier protagonist from Hollywood in the 80′s/90′s and he had some omage to TOPGUN

He also shares some traits with his sister

A major trait here is that HE HAS BLUE EYES, typical good looking soldier from US. 

and now let’s have a look at Chris in RE5...

Yeah... I still hate this face even tho I love his Character in this game, this ugly a** monkey looking mf and he had a lot of steroids

So we have some lore to him in RE5, Jill and Chris went to a mansion looking for Spencer (one of the fathers of Umbrella and the one that was behind project Wesker, he wanted to do this Virus so he could live forever, so RE has a good lore, it’s not just about zombies) but when they found him, he was dead and Wesker was by his side, in a fight Jill sacrificed herself to save Chris’s life. 

Chris started doing mission after mission because her body was never found, and he made a name for himself, he became a ‘legend’ inside BSAA and you can see that in the beginning of RE5.

The reason behind the muscles was probably to fight Wesker mano to mano but still is not well made, it really felt weird playing for the first time. 

So now we have a problem here, there is thing that you use in a narrative that is to make someone strong af powerless, and they did that to Jill. (a good example of this is in TWD- Ricky is a fucking legend and Negan made him powerless in the face of a event) 

Jill was used in a Boss fight and that is it... She is not in the game as a character, she is being manipulated and her whole design was changed, she looks like Nina from Tekken. WTF. - BTW, the fact that Wesker had mind control over her created 1000 fics of sex 

 So that is it, my main problem here isnt Jill itself, but it’s the fact that they used her character as a boss even tho she is the heroine, she never appears in RE lore again until some guy inside Capcom said “Well people are asking about Jill so let’s place a file in Rev2 saying that she is in rehab” 

The only time that she appears again is in a 3DS NINTENDO ONLY game, it felt that Capcom simply don’t care about her character. 

By the way Revelations 1 is a great game and was adaptable some years later for PC and consoles

But you think that this is bad, wait until we arrive at RESIDENT EVIL 6 

When I learned that Jill was not in RE6 I was mad... But after I played that game I said “thank you God” that game was bad, transformers kind of bad, it had bad writing, the lore was all over the place and Chris was the one that suffered the most in this game. 

He was responsible for the death of an entire squad, suffered amnesia and people still wanted him in the command 

THEY MADE HIM AN ALCOHOLIC 

The golden boy of BSAA reduced to THIS. 

By the way, the director said that HE WANTED TO KILL CHRIS IN THIS GAME to SUBVERT EXPECTATIONS - so if you liked Piers now that he died only because of that. 

So now let’s analyse what we know: 

The first 2 main characters are not well represented in media until RE6, they don’t know how to re introduce Jill in the games and Chris was reduced to a normal guy at a Russian bar;

But it gets worse... 

Capcom LOVE Leon, we know that. he is always the hero, he is the protagonist in almost every movie and he is always the cool guy so when he get’s a new model, he looks like this:

But When Chris get’s a new face he look like this: 

WHO DAFUQ ARE U, no offense to the model but he has NEGATIVE JAW LINE.

And still he doesn't look like Claire’s brother, there is no blue/green eyes and he looks younger that he was in 6 (and 6 still uses that ugly character model) 

But let’s go in the lore- we HAVE 0 info on Jill in RE6 / RE7 and no sight of her in RE8 

And speaking of which, they tried to make Chris the bad guy in the trailer so when we play we see “Ohhhh he was not the bad guy, that happened and that is why he did that” 

But still... 

If they are going to do that to his character don’t use this character, shit ! Do something with that Wesker’s son that made 0 sense in RE6 but leave Chris out of this - it really feels that they simply don’t know how to treat him right

And you may think that I may be complaining a lot because of his appearance

But this is him in RE8  

(to me this is some random dude from Russia) 

And this is him in RE:Verse (that is going to be release TOGETHER) 

So this tells me that they have 0 clue of how to handle his looks

Jill got RE3Rmk but it felt like a cheap game compared to RE2Rmk where the original RE3 was SO MUCH BETTER

And this is bad because there are so many new fans joining the fandom only to see 2 great characters suffering from poor director’s choices. 

I’m sorry about this rant, if you like Chris face and looks its okay, really, but dont tell me that Chris from 5/6/8 is the same from 1/CV and if you think im wrong about Jill its fine, but she is an amazing character that could have so much more impact in RE universe (I mean, she never even appeared in a RE movie - animations) 

But it’s sad to see so many characters that receive good representation in media and good games/lore while Jill get’s almost none and Chris is handled like random face guy. 

I was going to talk a little bit more about Rev 1 and RE Umbrella Chronicles but there is no need since Im mad right now and it seems that Capcom has 0 interest in making Code Veronica and Umbrella’s fall after that since their fav boy Leon need a rmk in RE4 even tho RE4 is not that old. 

Bonus:

Fun fact: Chris served in the Air force, so yeah, to me even Tom Cruise looks more like Chris than Chris from the games

[skyland2703]

OTP headcanons: Heckyl/Riley edition! What was the most surprising thing they learned about one another once they started dating? How does each member feel about PDA? What are some non-sexual activities they do together? Who fell in love first? Who made the first move?

OKAY!! THIS IS GONNA BE FUN!!!

What was the most surprising thing they learned about one another once they started dating?

Heckyl had NOT expected Riley to be… uhhh super addicted to Russian soap operas. It was after they moved in together, the first night, when the clock struck eight and Heckyl watched Riley rush to the TV and switch it on. He was hella surprised to notice that… welllll, Riley was watching a Russian soap opera. It was a little hilarious, at first, (no, no Heckyl could NOT stop laughing) but then he realised Riley wasn’t messing around he really did like that stuff. And then he narrated the entire goddamn story to Heckyl— who listened with a smile because Riley was narrating it, and although it didn’t interest him at all, he was really good at nodding his head and chucking at bits and pieces. AND when he’s mad at Riley he takes it out by frying the circuits of that TV with his electric energy, Riley HATES that.

Heckyl’s an alien from Sentai-6, right? So there were a loooot of things that Riley found “strange” and “surprising” and “new” about him once they got closer. For one, it was his metabolism. The dude can eat and eat and eat— and he does have quite an appetite— and never gain a single pound. It was puzzling at first, because Riley would wake up in the morning to realise the entire refrigerator is empty, even though he’d stocked it JUST THE PREVIOUS MORNING. One day he woke up in the middle of the night to tackle the mystery theif, and found Heckyl sitting on the floor in the refrigerator light in his boxers, munching on a bag of frozen peas, with his only excuse being, “what I’m hungry!”

How does each member feel about PDA?

Riley isn’t a very big fan of PDA, he’d prefer to keep the things under the covers. Heckyl LOVES PDA, he loves saying “OK THIS MAN IS MINE” emphasis on the mine, and since it annoys Riley more often than not, he makes it a point to do it as much as he can. ESPECIALLY if the entire Dino charge team is present. It’s hella fun!!

What are some non-sexual activities they do together?

Riley likes training, a lot. So he’d usually drag Heckyl to one of his workout sessions, and make him toss tennis balls at while he slashed them away. For Heckyl it’s the most boring thing ever, but he doesn’t mind it, because once the training sessions are over, he gets to drag Riley to the amusement park and stuff cotton Candy down his throat while they’re screaming their heads off on the rides. Heckyl has a little collection of printed photos from the amusement parks, one of those that the people at the park click of you and sell for a price, and he keeps them in a little box and cherishes them with everything he got. It’s one of their softest moments. (he doesn’t keep them in an album, because that’s too much work for his liking. The box is neat, it keeps them safe, it’s labelled “memories. Do not open”)

Who fell in love first?

Would it be bad if I say Riley did?? Something about Heckyl always charmed him. It charmed everyone, but with Chase never reciprocating, and Heckyl always there to be supportive and pick up the pieces, it was a sure thing. Before Riley even knew it, he was falling headfirst. And he was forever afraid of Heckyl finding out how he felt and rejecting him.

Who made the first move?

Ha! Now we’re talking! Even though Riley fell in love first, it WAAASSSS Heckyl who made the first move. Don’t get me wrong— he found out that Riley had feelings for him. And after much contemplation, he did understand that the green ranger was afraid of making a move. So Heckyl decided to ease his worries. Asking Riley out for dinner in between shifts at the Dino bite cafe, and watching as he almost fainted— yeah it was adorable and fun and rewarding all at the same time. ^^

[tf2-hmmm]

TF2 headcanon: borrowing their items

Scout:

Is unexpectedly lenient with anything the team asks to borrow from him.

“Huh, an extra shirt? Yeah I still got some spare. Hold on, lemme find some in my room.”

This man has a lot of siblings to share with. His ma definitely taught him to share. As long as his item returns in once piece it will be fine to him.

However, he is also the type of sibling who expects everyone to agree with anything he borrows in return.

Also take note that he is okay with anything the team borrows except for his prized baseball collection merchandise.

He once lost one of his collector’s item to Pyro in the furnace.

Has a hard time keeping track of the last person to borrow his things.

Soldier

When anyone borrows from him, he expects his item to be returned immediately.

Tends to be impatient and ask when the borrower will return his things.

Is able to keep track where his items went.

During battle, you can borrow any of his weapon (heck even his own clothes), but never his rocket launcher. (Zhana is an exception to this rule)

The team rarely borrows from him. His things tends to be bloody, but he does try clean it during spare time.

Pyro

It took years before someone had the courage to borrow their comics. Since they trust their teammates, they will happily lend it. Hopefully someone will have the same interest with them.

In rare occurrences, the Spy may need their lighter.

One time they accidentally included the collector's item of Scout in the furnace. For the rest of the week, the arsonist couldn't dare to look at him in the eye.

There is a 50% chance of them losing/burning the item they borrowed.

Do not lend the item to them if it is flammable and important.

Demoman

Has a telephone set up in his own room. His mom once requested Pauling to remind Demo to call her on a daily basis.

The base only has two working telephones: one in demo's room and the other in the team's meeting room.

Occasionally, someone from the team may need to borrow his phone.

The phone is just behind his room's experimental explosives and his box of alcoholic bottles.

"Aye, just give meh a knock and I can lead yea der."

If the phone from the meeting room is in use, Soldier may borrow his phone to call Zhanna.

Heavy

He is okay with lending anything (except for Sasha).

However borrowing the same item repeatedly will lead him to think of that person being irresponsible. Be prepared for his short lecture.

Borrows Pyro's comics and reads it in his past time. Sometimes, he writes his own book review and sends it to them.

Has his own collection books, but most of it is in russian language.

Engineer

90% of the time, it is mostly Medic borrowing his colored pen and chalk. His red pen is Medic's favorite in particular. For what reason does the Medic need the red pen for? To this day, he still does not know.

Knowing that his pen and chalk are being used a lot, he always buys them in bulk. His backroom now looks like a bookstore.

At one point he considered making a pen/chalk dispenser solely for Medic.

The enemy Spy once borrowed one of the colored pens he kept and used it to draw on his corpse. Also may or may not have stolen his precious colored pen.

The 10% is the other members using his toolkit for various reasons.

Medic

Never lends anything related to his experiments like chemicals. Those things are too expensive to be replaced for him. But if his members strike a good deal he may reconsider.

Has a bad habit of borrowing Engie's office supplies. He tends to forget where he last placed his own pen. He left it inside Heavy during the operation.

May or may not let them borrow his things depending on his mood. Do not bother when he is busy.

For every borrowed item, the Medic will want some favors in return.

Sniper

Is the only member to have the complete set of kitchenwares/utensils found in his van.

During team building, he voluntarily brings his spare utensils for everyone.

Has an interesting story for every plate given by his adoptive parents.

Nope, his van's driver seat is off limits.

Spy

For someone who has both money and luxury, he still is the member with the least belongings. He has the bare essentials. (But his wardrobe and car aint cheap)

There is almost nothing the members can borrow from him. And no, he will never let anyone touch his car.

One time Scout received an emergency call and becomes desperate to borrow some cash for the emergency treatment of his sick mother. That same day, a suitcase filled with the cash equal to the amount his mother needed was mysteriously placed on his bed.

Won't admit to lending the team some cash.

[tj-shmt]

A Day of Curation

Unless its Wednesday, it should be around 11am right now when i get up. First things first, put in my headphones and go get some good music! Its Monday - time to listen to my Discover Weekly playlist, which Spotify usually tailors perfectly to my tastes.

1. 🎶 SPOTIFY 🎶

Fun fact - this weeks "Discover Weekly" suggs. Usually I get the best music from there. I don't really recall the last time any of my friends really showed a song I didn't already know or was adequately good. Tho, I have to give Amelie some credit here, she constanly hits me with great Spanish tunes. (Also to Jasi and Safae which hit me up with some dope music from time to time) I mostly get inspiration from (sad to say but its true) tik tok or by randomly shazaming the world. I also really hate to limit myslfe to music i understand. On the contrary I LOVE LOVE LOVE music arround the world. Trust me i hear Tibetian Throat Singing to Russian Electro and even Islandic and Nativ American Tribal Music. To give you an impression of how important music consumption is for me:

Last Year i spent a total of 210 441 minutes on spotify alone. That is about 9 Hours a day. The average person uses Spotify for about 18 000 minutes a year. (My friend took the freedom to calculate how much money Spotify "looses" by my consumption. i pay $30 a year an Spotify gives $0,004891 per stream to the creator. An average of 3 minutes per song (70.000 streams) means spotify pays $342.37 to the creators. Thats $312.37 of deficit LOL)

Apart form that i cant really give Spotify a certain schedule when i listen to it cuz i listen to it all the time. During gaming, during coding, laundry, gym, work, class, before sleep. ✨Always✨

2. 💬 WhatsApp 💬

There is nothing better than sleeping for an eternity while everyone is already awake for probably 4 or more hours, working! *laughs in privileged design student* Since everyone is already living its live while I still drool, I gotta get up to date in the morning. Before i even leave bed, i checke my messages there. Similar to Spotify, I use WhatsApp the whole day and can't really tell when I would not use it. Except, my phone is always on silent (casual zennial phone call phobia) meaning i wont notice anything while zoning out or gaming (which usualy is the same).

3. 👨‍🏫 TEAMS 👩‍🏫

Yeah Yeah i can already hear it. "You wake up 5 minutes before class withouth breakfast or anything..." - bla bla bla. Yeah that is the case! I would usuly go on teams and enter the classroom, while preparing a breakfast (if you can call it breakfast after 12) sit down at my desk and listen to class. Causally everything that is too theoretical with music and whatsapp. Other classes that are interesting I`ll put my full attention to it.

But i hate teams in gerneral. Not cuz its sh**, no, usualy people that do their clases there have a weird way of using it. Finding material or looking up homeworks is such a struggle sometimes. (Props to you Kevin here, I have never seen anybody using teams in such a clean and struktured way than you do. Even tho you dont neccesarily use it as it was meant to be. (which might be the turning point on why its great))

4. 📺 YouTube 📺

Yup YouTube is usually the place to go after (sometimes during (I NEVER SAID THAT!)) class.

Actually, YouTube is the place to go for me. Relaxation, Entertainment, knowledge - anything! After class I'd usually watch "Cut" or other channels that produce let's plays or entertainment of some sort.

But it's also THE place to go during coding. I rather listen to Lofi or (Slowed, Reverbed) Music that doesnt really distract me. ALSO, during coding watch A SH*TLOAD OF TUTORIALS, cuz I am proud selftaught Zennial. #BestOfBothWorlds

5. 👨‍🍳 CHEFKOCH 👨‍🍳

I love to try new things and I constantly stalk the web for new recipes. Lately a lot of Asian and Vegan stuff. Chefkoch is the app to go where i also write down my own recipes to have them with me all the time. Great thing here is, i share this account with all my family members (currently 13, including my mom, aunts, other relatives). Great way to share the secret family recipes at any time!

(Cant recommend the recipe in the img, tho!)

6.🏐 ADDIDAS TRAINING🏐

Unlike all my sporty friends that used to hit the gym before covid and not got lazy, I started to use Training Apps like Addidas Training with its free Workout plans. I use it regularly and am happy i finally found a way to stay sporty.

7. ⌨️ VS CODE ⌨️

Its either Visual Studio Code, where I would code on my current project, or gaming. As mentioned above, I would get most of the inspiration from tutorials or using dev tools on different platforms.

8. 🎤 DISCORD 🎮

I´ll use Discord as a general term for Gaming since I play a lot but many different games, tho, always use discord to communicate with my freinds while gaming.

A great place to share random BS with friends and talk about anything that comes to my mind. I spent most of the evenings on Discord with my friends. Always did, in fact. Maybe the reason why I don't really feel so affected by the pandemic. I am used to being separated from my friends since they live all over Germany or the world in general. I always enjoy Online Live Events WITH my friends.

For me the web as always been a "with" not an "alone", which is why I never understand why so may struggle with feeling "alone" on live events online. JUST GRAB A FRIEND AND DISCOVER IT ✨TOGETHER✨!

9. 📼 DISNEY+ / NETFLIX 📼

Since I use both the same amount there is not thos or that. I never Really let anybody recommend me anything, cuz ... trust me, I WON'T watch it. IDK why that is, but I need a specific mood for each show. And nobody but myself can provide that. Probably why most ove the algorithms (esp Netflix) do not have an effect on me. I'm not in the mood for your ****, sorry!

Never the less, i periodically Binge a Series and then feel empty after it ended. Then i need some time to face reality again.

Funny tho, I binged Starwars Rebels on Disney+ and after it ended i just decide to buy 4 books on amazon that expand the story to starwars (#nerd i know). I will spend the next few months reading and probably not watching anything on both Streaming services.

10. 🤤 TIKTOK 🌈

... YUP.... I grew up with vine ... but TikTok got me. And honestly I don't regret it. It's the perfect algorithm that constantly finds the best videos that feed my thirsty queer ass. I mean ...

LOOK AT THE IMG ABOVE. YES, give me more....!

Its prolly not good for my digital wellbeing or my mental health but do I care at the moment..? noooooo...

Just give me more of Starwars Parodies, Sleepwalkers, Best off's of streamers, Queer content (cuz its time this heteronormativity world is fed with it! and no i do not indentify as anyting, im just the + at the very far end!) and yeah, even some sexy content if the creator feels good about it.

AND DONT YOU GIVE ME THAT SIDE EYE OF JUDGEMENT HERE - WE ALL THIRST FROM TIME TO TIME!

TOODLES!

[elle-and-the-fandoms]

Signs - Kuroo Tetsurō x Reader

Genre: fluff

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurō x reader

Words: 1632

Warnings: none… well mentions of sounds that could be considered sexual right at the end.

A/N: So, this is the first story I’ve written in a while. I feel like it’s obvious that I’m not used to writing in 2nd person POV, and I might just stick to 1st or 3rd person in the future… We’ll see! Proofreading done by yours truly and the ever amazing @themoonlightfeather​, so if anythings up, it’s their fault ∩(︶▽︶)∩ this story can also be found on my Wattpad

"Did he hit his head in the last match or something?" Inouka asked, subtlety gesturing to their captain. Kuroo was standing in the middle of the gym with a ball in his hands, looking out the window.

"I don't know, but he’s been off all week." Yaku replied with a sigh. Off was an understatement. Kuroo always gave his all when it came to volleyball, but this week, his head had been anywhere but the game. His pregame mantra had gotten mixed up and confusing and his blocking had gotten so sloppy. So sloppy that even Lev had no trouble spiking right past him. The last straw for Kenma was when the middle blocker had gotten spiked right in the face by Yamamoto, during a 3 on 3.

The silence was deafening for a solid second, before Kuroo sat up. A groan left his mouth as he held his head in his hands. He already knew a bruise would form on his face. The sound of laughter coming from Lev and Yaku drowned Yamamoto's string of apologies.

"That might be enough practice for today." Coach Nekomata said as he sat down on one of the benches. "The gym is free for those who want to do individual practice as long as you clean up after yourselves. Make sure you stretch before going home."

"Kuroo, are you feeling okay? You've been acting weird lately." The setter asked as he looked down at his raven-haired teammate, not feeling like helping him up.

Behind them Yamamoto continued apologising. Fukunaga was by his side, giving him a comforting pat on the top of his head.

Kuroo took a breath and got off his ass. He took a few seconds before looking around and noticed that most of the team were looking at him. A light blush covered Kuroo’s cheeks as he cleared his throat.

"Yeah yeah, I'm fine. Great in fact! My head's just sorta been elsewhere the last few days." His hand had found its way to his neck where it now rested. "It's just, well... I- I got some exciting news earlier this week is all. Actually that reminds me-" he turned to look at the coaches "that I can't make it to practice tomorrow." Coach Naoi nodded with a puzzled look on his face as he noted it down on his clipboard.

“Well then. Let's get to stretching, shall we?” The captain said as if nothing had happened.

----

The cold air had turned most of the volley team into Rudolf the rednosed reindeer lookalikes. Even on an early December morning, they were lively and, much to Kuroo's annoyance, loud as ever. Since the practice where Kuroo got intimate with a ball, they had been nagging him about why he was skipping.

“Why won’t you tell us? Is it bad? Are you doing something illegal?” Lev asked for the 27th time in 5 minutes.

“That's for me to know and for you to wonder.” Kuroo replied, putting both hands behind his head as he laughed. The hot breath leaving his lips turned into white mist.

“Stop saying that, you sound suspicious… and stupid” Kenma mumbled into his scarf. Kuroo was about to object but thought better of it. He knew it would result in an endless argument back and forth, like always. Instead he continued laughing as the lot walked to school.

During class, it was obvious that something was preoccupying Kuroo’s mind. The teacher took notice but was nice enough to not call on him. After all he was always so active during class, she could let it slide once.

The bell signaling lunch snapped the Nekoma captain out of his trance-like state. He shot up from his desk and threw all his stuff into his bag. The teachers had been notified that he wouldn’t attend class for the rest of the day. As he walked down the hall, a few of his teammates caught up to him.

“You’re never gonna tell us, are you?” Yamamoto sighed.

“Nope.”

“Why though? What could be so important that you’d go through all this to keep it a secret?” Yaku chimed in.

“Look,” Kuroo stopped and sighed “it’s something personal and I’d rather not talk about it right now."

And with that he left school.

----

The drive from Kuroo’s house was about half an hour. Since it was the middle of the day, traffic was no problem. Kuroo parked the car as close to the terminal as he could, not wanting to have to walk too far with a bunch of stuff in his arms. He grabbed all the things from the boot of his car and looked at the time. Perfect timing. A slight warmth creeped onto his face as he grew more excited. He had waited for so long and the time was finally here.

The arrival lobby wasn’t as crowded as Kuroo had feared, making it easy for him to make himself noticeable. With a sign in one hand and a bouquet of roses in the other, he stood there, staring at the arrival exit.

In the blink of an eye it felt as if time slowed down, frozen almost. Kuroo felt his heart skip a beat, then speed up. Standing only a few meters in front of him was the most perfect being Kuroo had ever come to know. The smile that he would do anything to see. The eyes that he could stare at forever.

As your eyes met, you dropped your bags without a second thought, and charged at the tall man in front of you. He only just managed to put down the stuff he was holding before opening his arms to catch you.

The collision resulted in both of you falling to the ground, you on top with your boyfriends arms around you. Neither of you cared about the people starring in that moment. All that mattered was that you got to hold each other after being apart for so long. You nestled into his neck, breathing in through your nose to take in his scent. He did the same, resting his head on top of yours.

“I missed you.” You said after a little while, looking Kuroo in the eyes after pulling away.

“I missed you too. So much.” He said back, leaning in to steal a quick kiss from your lips.

When his lips left yours, you looked up to catch his eyes again, but noticed something on his face instead.

“Oh My God, what happened to your face?! How did you get that? Did I do that just now? I’m sorry!” You panicked, reaching up to inspect the bruise on his face. As you cupped his face, you felt his bigger, warmer hands cover yours. He leaned into your touch enjoying the feeling of your soft skin against his own.

“Don’t worry, it looks worse than it is. There was a little accident at practice.” He reassured you before continuing, this time with a smug face. “But I guess it sorta is your fault. I can't help that it's impossible to get you off my mind. Especially after you told me you could come visit for Christmas.”

You giggled at his accusation and looked at him while mirroring his expression.

“Aww I’m soooo sorry, you want me to kiss your booboo?”

He nodded with a grin, and you pressed a gentle kiss to his bruised cheek. You both got off the ground, fixing yourselves a bit, before picking up the things you dropped.

You turned around to face him again after getting your bag. As you did, you got a chance to read the sign that Kuroo now held again. “Welcome back from prison”

“...I hate you.” You said, before going in for another hug.

“Hey, I was being considerate you know. Could’ve written ‘Congrats on completing rehab’ or something.” Kuroo laughed and kissed the top of your head before guiding you towards the exit. “And besides, you started this whole thing so don’t get mad at me.”

You both laugh at the memory. Back when Kuroo came to visit you, you had made a sign for him as well and since then, it became a thing. Though through time it sort of escalated into madness, or as you liked to call it dorkness.

“Well, ‘I tried to think of a cute sign, but all I can think about is your cute face’ was funny and adorable. This is just bullying.” You fake-pouted. Kuroo put his arm around your shoulders as he laughed.

“You like it when I bully you though.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“Your wish is my command, Babe.”

---- BONUS ----

Kenma and the rest of the Nekoma Volleyball club were on their way home from practice. A few lampposts and the occasional light from the surrounding houses lit up the streets. The group of boys were talking about practice when Lev caught their attention.

“Hey, isn’t this Kuroo~senpai’s house?”

The other team members nodded, confused about why that seemed like news to the russian giant.

“The lights in his room are on. Look, you can see his silhouette!” He pointed excited.

“Lev, dumbass. Stop being a creep.” Yaku scolded, though he couldn’t help but look to where his Kouhai was pointing. And sure enough, there in the window stood a dark form with an unmistaken bedhead. But as they were all looking, a second, smaller figure appeared.

“Strange, his parents aren’t home tonight…” Kenma thought out loud.

As the team looked wondering at the window, the two figures moved closer, before melting to one. The group of boys all averted their eyes as one figure got pushed against the window. The muffled sound of a moan caused them to hastily move along, not wanting to know THAT much about their captain.

[nade2308]

First Lines of Last 20....

Guidelines: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20,  just list them all.) Choose your favorite opening line, tag some friends!

Tagged by @impossiblepluto. Thanks friend!

(And just as always, I deviate from the mold and I give you more than just the first lines and/or my favorite lines 😈)

1. You don't know you are beautiful

Jack was so pissed. He was thrumming with nervous energy and was itching for a fight. Especially with that good for nothing, piece of shit, pretentious and pompous guy they were sent to retrieve because he had valuable intel the Phoenix stumbled upon by chance.

2. Catch you when you fall

Scott was always ready to push himself further, just that one step towards the tipping point. He thought if he went harder, and longer, that it will yield better results, but it wasn't always the case. That frustrated him even more and then he was angry at himself for doing that to himself and his friends. And to his dad. His dad who bent himself forwards and backwards to make sure Scott had everything he needed and more.

3. Coming home to you

You know that feeling when you want something so bad, but you have to wait for it? Yeah, Mac was feeling like that now. He was this close to losing it after the op ended. He couldn't wait to get back to Jack. Well, get back to Jack and get laid in the process.

4. "There's still time to change the road you're on"

Jack was in Texas for the birthday of his nephew and it just happened that his nephew was best friends with the kid of one of Jack's old flames. Well, more like a summer relationship, but seventeen year old Jack thought she was it. They had a thing that was actually cute and sweet. He took her out on dates at the local pizza place, and she took him to community events.

5. 98.Separated

Alina Chernyshevsky was a Russian scientist working at a lab in LA, on a scholarship who was kidnapped by a rogue crime group almost a week ago. The Phoenix was tasked with recovering her and capturing any of the members of the group they could find. It turned out that the son of a banker, the daughter of a businessman and the brother and sister, the kids of one of the most powerful Romanian crime groups had one thing in common. They wanted to get out from under the shadow that their parents put them in. So they formed their own union, and thanks to the ties Andrei Bogdan, their leader, had from his father's world, they quickly made their way up in the underground dark world. Climbing up the ladders, they did the odd jobs here and there, hits on important people for hire, and it was based on their combined knowledge of the finances, the system and the law, that they stayed undetected and under the radar for so long. Until Alina discovered some sample or another in the lab that was brought for testing and she made herself a target and was kidnapped in broad daylight.

6. Dye Hard

It wasn't like it was something he was dying to try. He was just looking at pictures of people with wonderfully done hair. Which happened to also be dyed in all the colors of the rainbow and more. It was just research. For an experiment. He was sure he was going to be told off again for experimenting so he kept it just to himself.

7. Sweet child o' mine

Riley woke up to the persistent ringing of her phone. She was having a very nice dream, drinking mai-tai's, at the Hilton Hawaiian Village, and now she was brought back to reality by the shrill tone of her phone.

8. Mac and Jack + softness

They had experienced bad missions before. It wasn't that uncommon, since almost every mission they worked on turned bad real fast. But there were some missions that took bad to the next level.

9. Jack + migraine + birthday

Mac was shivering even with the blanket wrapped around him. They were on their exfil flight, and the heat was on for his sake, but Mac's worry wasn't for himself, but for Jack. Jack, who was squinting at the bright sky and had his head tilted in an awkward angle because apparently he was hurting. And Mac had a pretty good idea what was the cause.

10. 9.Helpless

The drive back to Mac's place was a blur. Jack focused on the road and tried not to think of what they were told or the treatment that might have reversed all of their hard work on making Mac's hands heal and be okay.

11. 72.Painless

When Mac first noticed the car that was tailing him, he was several blocks away from Jack's place. They were supposed to have a movie night with the team, Jack already texted him to tell Mac that Riley was there with him.

12. 26.Flinch

Mac jerked away from the hand that was shaking his shoulder and immediately backed up to the corner of the bed. Someone was talking in a low voice, but Mac was still a bit disoriented and couldn't place the voice. Or the words.

13. 12.Confusion & 26. flinch

When Mac woke up, he could tell that something was different. There wasn't a creepy stare to watch over him, nor the blinking dot on the camera in the corner.

14. 5.Bruised

Jack let his kid take his fill by looking him up and down. Jack knew that he looked a little bit worse for wear, but that was normal in their line of work. This time however, it was from something else. And judging by the way Mac was eyeing him, he didn't manage to hide it well.

15. 56. Begging

Mac wanted to scream. It was hurting him to just breathe, but the pain was unbearable. He didn't know if the lash that caught his side, or the one that split the skin above the small of his back, hurt more.

16. Jack Sr. + Wrist Cuff

It takes all his willpower not to go back to the room he just vacated. He promised Riley and Mac that he'll take a break. It was nonnegotiable. Mac went so far as to tell him to go and take a good sleep. That Mac wasn't going to vanish again. He promised.

17. Fire Pit + Nightmares

Mac didn't know what woke him up. He's sure it was something and not a sound he made up in his dream. Mac turned around in bed and for a moment he was a bit disoriented. He blinked a few times and then looked at the digital watch on his nightstand. It was a little after 2am.

18. "Whenever your world starts crashing down, that's when you'll find me"

"Hours later (Jack's not sure about the time, he left his watch at home) the party is dying down. He is watching the night lights twinkling in the distance, mixed with lights from building windows, and homes and offices. LA is alive as always, traffic present even in this late hour. Everyone knows that NYC is the city that never sleeps, but Jack wants to argue how LA doesn't fall far behind the Big Apple. Especially since Jack has watched this city in all the times of day and night and can attest to that."

19. Si te doy mi corazón, lo tratarás con ternura

1. Tickling

Mac was studying for an exam and Jack was bored. It was one of those days. Really, there was a lot to be done in the house, and Jack barely had a time for himself and Mac these days, but on a rare night where he had absolutely nothing of importance to do… and Jack was bored. 

20. The Center of Their World

Mac was writhing in Jack's lap, and Jack moaned at the drag of Mac's cock against his hip as Jack had Mac's ass spread and a finger inside him already.  He instinctively backed up against the headboard of their ridiculously big bed, and threw his head out because the contact between him and Mac was explosive in the least.

Tagging: @sabbystarlight @82tweeder @dixons-mama @improvidus @panchostokes @erinsworld @nativestarwrites @kerkerian @starryhc @thesammykinz @dont-stop-believin-in-klaine @demonicsoulmates @rai-knightshade @telltaleclerk and whoever sees this and wants to do it, consider yourself tagged.

[zettabita]

RIVALS: Spark I

Rivals Master List

hi guys! ok so this is becoming more action than romance lmao I promise next time ill make it...fluffier...? 

I need to get this story out of my head HAHAHAH so I’ll just keep writing. :D In this chapter, you might be a lil OP but thats ok bc you’re amazing irl <3 

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a masaki ichijou x fem reader fic

Genre: action, romance Warnings: mild swearing Word count: 2.2k+

Previous: Thunder

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You really didn’t see what was coming when Saegusa-senpai pulled you into a discussion room the night before your first Ice Pillar Break match. You were meandering about the hotel, you see, trying to get rid of your pre-event jitters. You were inspecting the vending machine (Why doesn’t this have milk tea?) at the end of the corridor when Saegusa-senpai suddenly popped out from nowhere and urged you to follow her into a room full of very intimidating Third year students and an expectant Tatsuya. 

The first thing that crossed your mind when Juumonji-senpai told you in that room that you were chosen to substitute for Monolith Code was the horrible image of you tripping over a rock in the middle of a battlefield. The second thing was how you were so unlucky that the first year they allowed girls to compete in Monolith Code and increased the number of members on a team was your year (but hey, hooray for gender equality.) 

Not wanting to embarrass your school, you tried to put up a good fight. But what about Miyuki, you said. They said that she had two events already and Tatsuya scrunched his face a little bit at the idea. But I don’t have combat experience, you said. They said that Monolith Code, a glorified, no-contact capture-the-flag-with-magic contest, isn’t really live combat and your skills were needed in the team Tatsuya was forming. Not wanting to further bother the scary Third years who looked like they were getting more impatient by the second, you grimly added “not get stomped on at Monolith Code” to your Nine Magic Schools Competition to-do list (At the top of your list was “melt a lot of ice”, which you would later tick off in your Ice Pillar Break match with Mutsuba-san the next day.)

And that’s how you found yourself standing in front of a black pillar in the middle of an open field with Tatsuya Shiba, Leonhard Saijou, and Mikihito Yoshida at the Monolith Code finals, trying in vain to gulp down your nervousness. 

At the far end of the field, you see four figures in dark red armor. They had one girl fidgeting more nervously than you were (It was somehow comforting.) You eye the tallest one, the one with the brownish-red hair tucked underneath the helmet before closing your eyes.

“We need you to counter Ichijou Masaki.” Tatsuya says, almost apologetically. 

You almost spat out your drink from the hotel minibar. “You need me to do what?!” (You panic now, but years later, you thank Tatsuya for his decision. Masaki thanks him too.) You were hanging out in your room with your teammates and a few First-year friends, discussing combat styles and strategies for the coming matches in a few days.

Tatsuya sighs as Leo and Mikihito stare at him incredulously. “It will be difficult, but I need to shut down Futatsugi Kei. I can’t do that while also facing off against Ichijou Masaki. At the very least, you have to buy me some time.” You pause to think. Futatsugi Kei was another Third High School ace from a Master Clan. It was absolutely criminal for him, the Crimson Prince, and Cardinal George to be on the same Monolith Code team. 

But then again, Ichijou Masaki was also in a weight class of his own. Or so they say. “But why me?”

“It’s actually one of the reasons why I chose you. The Ichijou clan specializes in medium to long range bombardment. That would make it difficult for Leo and Mikihito,” Tatsuya gestured to the two, “to take him on from a distance with their specialities. But you can.”

Before you could even reply, Erika chimes in from the other side of the room. “And you’re a girl!” 

The four of us gaze at her curiously. You ask, “What does that have to do with anything?”

Erika flashes me a wide grin. “You’re a girl, so he’ll hesitate going all-out. Right?” She looks to the boys for confirmation. 

“I don’t know if I should be happy about that…” you say as Leo lights up in realization. “Oh, yeah! Old-fashioned types like Master Clans people will probably underestimate you, ” Leo blushes slightly and pauses, realizing the implications of his words, “uh, which is, you know, really unfair, but maybe you could use that to your advantage?” 

Tatsuya and Mikihito nod in agreement. “Yes. It’s possible for us to construct a strategy around that,” Tatsuya adds.

You press your fingers to your temple in a gesture of defeat. “Okay. I’ll think of something. But I don’t think my defense will hold…”

Tatsuya reaches into his inner coat pocket. “And there’s another reason why I chose you.” His lips curl into a rare smile and hands me a silver gun-shaped CAD. “Come on. I’m going to teach you Gram Demolition.”

“(L/N)-san.” Tatsuya calls. You open your eyes without looking at him. “Are you ready?” He asks in a low voice. He was obviously most concerned about your state, given that you were the unlucky one to throw down with one of the best first-year magicians around. 

You feel for the CADs in your holsters and pull up your glove, your magic talisman, on your left hand. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” You think back to your first Monolith Code match with Eighth this morning. You did well, taking to the battlefield easily and readily, but you haven’t shown the world your new spell that was learned in a few late-night crash courses with Tatsuya. Gram Demolition, a potent close-range Counter Magic spell, wasn’t a complicated technique, you learned. You only had to have a crazy high Psion count to cast it. It just so happens you had a lot more than most. 

You sigh and go over your magic repertoire in your head for the last time. You do your best to ignore your heart beating annoyingly fast in your chest, sharpen your focus, and lock your eyes on that self-assured red-haired magician standing directly across from you on the field. Masaki Ichijou—your rival for the day.

And with a screech of a faraway siren, the match begins. 

Tatsuya sprints, two CAD pistols in his hand, legs pumping quickly underneath him as he aims at Futatsugi. The air shifts as the other two spread out behind you. Masaki, on the other, strides confidently forward and begins to cast a spell aimed at Tatsuya.

Not him, me, you think to yourself in a split-second. You send a barrage of lightning bolts in Masaki’s direction, the intensity of your thought coloring the strength of your magic, and he deflects it just in time. He turns to you and you see a small smile plastered on his…admittedly handsome face. Smug bastard. You take a quick glance to your left and see Tatsuya engage in a shootout with that Futatsugi character.

Your eyes dash back to your opponent. Masaki raises his two pistols and a few Activation Sequences form around you quickly. Air Bullet: a round of compressed air and Masaki’s go-to spell in this competition (You’ve watched a few replays of his matches. Never can be too careful with a guy who’s killed a bunch of Russians when he was 13.) Strong, but easy to dismantle. Show time. You blast them away cleanly one by one with your newly-learned Gram Demolition technique and counter with your powered-up version of Thunder Child. Masaki’s smile fades and his eyes widen as he puts out a defensive spell, averting the paralyzing effect of your offense. At the edge of your vision, you notice the other Third opponents shoot you a shocked glance.

Masaki regains his composure in an instant. The two of you walk towards each other, pistols raised in a magic gunfight. Lightning and Activation Sequences form and disintegrate around the both of you within seconds, drawing you in, encircling the both of you in a beautiful but deadly light show. (It lit up his face the same way it would the first time he took you to see fireworks at the pier in Kanazawa.) You manage to slip in a few lightning bolts in between shots of Gram Demolition, making him sidestep occasionally, but you were basically locked in a stalemate. 

Now or never. You break your solid stance and run towards him, catching him off-guard. For a second, he pauses, and you press the attack, nearly hitting him with a low-voltage lightning bolt. 

The Crimson Prince must’ve felt the heat quite literally. He flinched at the heat and the close sound of air expanding rapidly like miniature thunder, and, with a flick of his wrist, a dozen Activation Sequences suddenly surrounded you, threatening to let loose. Oh my God, this jerk’s trying to kill me. You catch the horrified expression on his face (his move was a violation of the rules, after all) before you blast away one, four, then seven in a moment, going beyond what you thought you could, and then you take out a few more. You feel the hotness from a nearby explosion. You internally scream at your body to catch up and obliterate the remaining Sequences.

And then, when you’d just were a couple of paces from him, just within range of a lightning bolt, one air bullet hits the ground next to you. The world to your left erupts in a hot flash and the ground simply bursts, soil surging up into the air. You let out a yelp of pain and dive away from the blast.

“And that’s the plan. Do you think the illusion will hold?” You focus on your outstretched hand, gathering Psions and then destroying Tatsuya’s attempt at a spell, the glow from the attempt lighting up his figure in the darkened training field not far from the hotel. Your Gram Demolition was still imperfect, but it was getting there: you had proceeded from mildly inconveniencing Activation Sequences last night to outright blowing them away this evening. 

Tatsuya furrows his eyebrows in mild disapproval as he prepares to cast another one. “At your level, it should.” Another Activation Sequence forms before you and you blast it away easily. “Still...a lot of things could go wrong with that. Are you sure, using yourself as bait?”

You shrug. “You would be too busy to help me. And… to be honest, I don’t think I have a chance at fighting him head-on for too long. So I’m doing what you guys suggested. Using a little psychology.” You grin as you take down a couple of Sequences from Tatsuya near-perfectly. “After all, who wouldn’t panic if they thought they hurt a cute girl?”

You just didn’t expect him to try to kill said cute girl, even if it was an accident. You lie face down in the dirt. Your ears were ringing and your head throbbed irritatingly. Thank goodness your helmet had tough glass or you’d be eating mud by now. A thick mist that looks like dust and steam emanates from the palm of your glove-covered hand and envelops the surrounding area, hiding you from view. You raise your head slightly to look around at it. Your smoke version of Magical Mist, a spell that creates a thick fog, looked a bit unnatural, but it should do. A destroyed CAD, an attempt at a defense spell, a weird natural phenomenon: what created the mist shouldn’t matter, because the opponent should be panicking either way. You take another second to lie on the grass, CADs clutched in your hands, hurting all over from the dive, and then you waited.

You knew that Masaki was just at the edge of the smoke, probably freaking out at the prospect that he killed a girl and a foreign exchange student at First High (Later on, you learn he already had been practicing how to apologize to your country’s government for your death. The nervous wreck.) You knew he would be too busy reviewing his previous steps to see if the excessive force he used would be enough to kill you and definitely too busy to notice that his opponent was very much still alive and kicking. You listen for a rustle of grass or a shuffle of armor. 

After a quiet moment of passing wind and the faraway sounds of magic from your teammates’ own battles, you hear it: a step back, the ground crunching underneath a foot. You raise yourself from the ground quickly and throw your CAD in the direction of the sound. It was a good throw: high and far, the gun spinning away from view in a clean trajectory. More importantly, it was a good distraction at a magic-only battle. At almost the same time, you sprint and emerge from the smoke and into the light. 

You swear the world moved in slow motion in that instant. Masaki Ichijou stood there a few feet from you, pistols lowered, his head turned in the direction of the CAD you threw. He feels the air shift when you emerge and he turns to you slowly, his emerald eyes glinting in the light, his mouth gaped open in surprise. He raises an arm instinctively, probably activating his defenses, but you already cast the final blow: Spark. A seemingly simple spell that creates a small electric discharge but is enough to paralyze an opponent.

As you did, you couldn’t help but flash the Crimson Prince a shameless smile from ear to ear. I win, you wanted to say. He looked on—you couldn’t understand the expression on his face—as he fell to his knees, electricity crackling around him. Far away, the crowd erupts in loud cheers. 

Months later, Masaki tells you that that smile was what made him fall desperately in love with you.

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hope the way you beat him wasn’t too far-fetched lmao. thanks for reading! <3

[loubells]

Nekoma Clowder

Chapter 5: New Friend

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Synopsis: Y/N had known Yaku for as long as she could remember, once she told him that she was going to attend Nekoma, he asked her multiple times to join their volleyball team as the manager. Little did Y/N know, but she was about to sign up for chaos and probably some of the best times of her life.

Story Format: written + SMAU

Genre: crack au(?), fluff, with some possible flirting

Warnings: some swearing from characters

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of images used within this series

Taglist: open (Submit an ask to be added)

Status: Ongoing

Previous | Masterlist | Next

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It was early, and Inuoka knew how much you hated mornings, so he kept any conversation with you short. There had been an empty desk next to you all semester, and secretly you were glad about that. Inuoka sat on the other side of you, but when your teacher walked in, they were not alone. A tall, lanky looking man walked in behind, a shy smile on their face.

“We have a new student joining us today, why don’t you go ahead and introduce yourself?”

“Uh, my name is Lev Haiba.”

“You can go have a seat next to Y/N and I am sure if you have any questions about anything they will help you out.”

Lev simply nods and then heads over to sit in the desk beside you. Once seated, he looks over at you and gives a smile, both you and Inuoka give him a warm welcome. The three of you had conversations between classes and even spent lunch together. Explaining how you both were a part of the volleyball club.

“Wait really? You both are a part of it?” Somehow managing to get a sentence out between bites.

“Yeah, I am on the team and Y/N here is the manager, she tries her best to keep us all in check but it mainly ends up with Kai and Yaku doing most of the work.”

“I tend to praise you guys a lot since Yaku can be harsh at times. But hey, Lev, why don’t you come to practice with us one day and see if maybe you would like volleyball? It would be a great way to make friends and you get to hang out with Inu and I more.” A bright smile formed on your face, while Inuoka got slightly embarrassed at the nickname you had coined for him one day during your classes.

“Sounds like it would be fun, I don’t think I have played before but that doesn’t mean I can’t learn.” A similar smile sat upon Lev’s face before both you and Inuoka burst into laughter at the food that sat on Lev’s face. Once you calmed down enough to speak, you let him know why you were laughing. Embarrassed with a slight blush hue on his cheeks, Lev scrambled to grab a napkin to clean the mess off his face.

He figured just from the short interactions with the two of you, that the three of you would be great friends, and the fact you both wanted to spend more time with him outside of classes brought a smile to his face. Even if he ended up not enjoying volleyball, he did want to spend more time with you both.

As the rest of the day went on, Lev felt more and more welcome thanks to the kindness that you and Inuoka shared. The three of you all became pretty quick friends, and at the end of the day, Lev asked if he could just come along to see what volleyball was like before he tried to play. Looking at the other, you and Inuoka both nodded, and told Lev that if that made it easier for him, then it should be okay. 

As usual, you ran into Yaku on your way to the gym, well, more like he waited for you and Inuoka. When he looked up after hearing footsteps approaching, he blinked a few times at the newest person joining the two of you.

“Who is this? You guys make a new friend?”

“Yeah, this is Lev, he just joined our class today. He has an interest in volleyball and wanted to see what it was about. He said he might join the club.” A soft smile adoring your face as you gave Yaku a side hug.

“Wow, you sure are short.” Lev stated as he just stood next to Inuoka. Without missing a beat, Yaku yelled back at the taller man.

“Hey, we need to get to practice, bicker later Yaku.” A sigh left your mouth as you tugged on his backpack, knowing that if Yaku got his way, he would become a demon before practice even began.

Eventually your group made it to the gym, and you wandered over to the coach to explain that Lev wanted to watch today to see if he might enjoy volleyball. Of course coach Nekomata had no issue with this. For all he knew, Lev might be a good addition to the team.

A few days after Lev originally came to watch the team practice, he figured out that he found volleyball pretty fun. He decided to join the club, as soon as he joined you had added him to a group chat of the first years, on top of the teams group chat. He found out that you would praise everyone when they did well, and encourage them when they messed up. Whereas Yaku, who he came to find out was your best friend, would scold him and make him practice extra. It became a point that he tried to keep your praises in his head more than the criticism that Yaku gave him.

Lev also noticed that you enjoyed helping the team, even if it meant tossing balls so Kenma could toss to other members of the team, or just handing out towels or water bottles when needed. He noticed that you just radiated kindness no matter where you went. He realized that he just wanted to be around you and your smile. Little did Lev know, he wasn’t the only one who noticed your radiating kindness or the desire to simply be around it. 

Yuki had been the one to point out to Lev that the Russian had a noticeable crush on you, not that there was anything wrong with it. He simply warned that Yaku might be a bit harsher to him due to the overprotective nature that comes with having you as his best friend. One question that remained in Lev’s mind was simply ‘how in the world did such a kind person like you, end up with such a demon of a best friend?’

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Fun Facts:

~ Inuoka was the one who noticed the crush Lev has on Y/N first, and they opted to warn him before Yaku figures out

~ Yaku wasn’t going to be harsh to Lev at first because he is brand new, but the short comment had him change his mind

~ With Lev joining the team, Kuroo no longer gets teased over his pick up line

~ Although Y/N misses the empty desk next to her, she appreciates Lev in the short time they have known one another and is happy he is her friend now

*FINALLY OUR BBY LEV IS APART OF THE STORY*

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Taglist: 

@chibishae34​ @hnpriscilla​ @creativedogs​ @shut-your-eyes-kiss-me-goodbye​ @youpieceofwasabi​ @elianetsantana​ @bbymilkbread​ @rachelexe​

[tf2-headcanons-and-scenarios]

Headcanons for the mercs with an s/o with curly hair? 🥺

A/N: Just to spice things up, I’ll switch between short and long curly hair. To any male readers out there, you can definitely rock the long curly style if you want to! :D

Scout:

- Scout doesn’t think long hair suits him, which is why he thinks girls with long hair is pretty cute

- Your long curly hair is just sending him through the roof with glee

- He doesn’t really understand how much of a pain it is to maintain long hair, let alone curly hair

- He loves putting it up in some simple hairdos, mainly pigtails or buns

- One time he asked his mom to send him some hair products for you to use to keep your hair nice and curly and healthy. Let’s just say you were very happy that day

- He loves petting your head, it’s so curly and fluffy!!

Soldier:

- This guy lives and breaths military-grade haircuts, and he is surprisingly very good at giving them

- He makes an ‘exception’ with your head of hair after he sees your short and very curly locks

- By exception he really means ‘I find that so fucking cute on you but I don’t want to turn back from my own traditions but hot damn I’d die if you got rid of your hair...’

- He loves poking at it, and he really likes putting his chin on your head whenever you hug each other JUST so he can feel the fluff that is your hair

- You love the small gifts he gives you that you can put in your hair (things like hair clips)

Pyro:

- Pyro never really had a healthy head of hair, if one can call it that at all

- Seeing your long curly locks just sent them soaring, as if they finally found what it meant to have perfect hair

- They love playing with it, especially when they get to style your hair for you

- You love the little ribbons and clips Pyro puts into your hair, and in turn you style their hair too

- You make Pyro feel more loved and appreciated and less like a freak. Honestly they feel more at ease when they’re around you already, your curly hair is a very grateful bonus for them!

Demoman:

- Demoman appreciates a good hairstyle when he sees one, and you are no exception

- Your short curly hair strikes him in a way that makes his heart feel light, especially when it flows around your head whenever you move your head

- He runs a gentle hand over the curls, always mindful to avoid accidentally pulling on it or snagging a knot unintentionally

- One day you rocked up to the battlefield wearing a secure headband in your hair

- Demoman’s heart = Melted mess of ‘goddamn you’re fucking cute’

Heavy:

- Physical appearances aren’t necessarily everything to the Russian man, so long as you don’t do anything bad to your physical appearance and keep it maintained and healthy

- Your long curly hair reminds him of his sisters and how long their hair grew growing up (minus the curls)

- He is a very good hair stylist thanks to years of styling his sister’s hairs

- He loves helping you take care of it, and he loves how soft it is

- He won’t admit it, but he really loves your long hair, especially brushing it for you in places you can’t reach

Engineer:

- This Texan loves your curly hair, it’s a style that suits most fashion trends!

- Head scarfs? Damn straight that’s cute on you! Headbands? Adorable as fuck! Pigtails/Ponytails? Hi you are now too cute for society to handle

- Engi really likes giving you things that can maintain the health of your hair, among other hair accessories like ribbons and headbands

- You know that look when a pair of goggles are on your forehead and there is charcoal dust all over your face aside from the area where you wore the goggles? Yeah, add your short curly hair to the mix and Engi would literally be stunned silent

Medic:

- This man hasn’t seen many hairstyles, so seeing your long hair was a nice change. The fact that it was also curly made the change of scenery all the more pleasant

- This man would make sure that, whenever he was performing surgery on you, he would keep it clean and away from blood/tools because he doesn’t want to mess it up for you

- He gives you advice on how to maintain a healthy head of hair, thought he won’t admit that advice is to mainly keep it nice and pretty for a long time

- You find it cute whenever one of his doves gently nestles into your curly head of hair, and you’re touched by the fact that Medic specifically trained his doves to be gentle when playing around with your hair

Sniper:

- This man isn’t very picky when it comes to hairstyles, but that doesn’t go without saying that he does have a preference

- Said preference happens to be short, fluffy hair

- One day is waltz right on in as the newest team member and this Aussie mercenary is just looking at that GORGEOUS HEAD OF SHORT CURLY HAIR

- He is literally over the moon when he finally got to pet you on the head to find that your hair is so fucking soft

- He helps you brush it in the mornings, and he asks his mum to send him some of her hats she doesn’t use anymore so you can wear them on days off

- He has a small collection of your smiling face with beautiful hats on your equally beautiful head of hair

- Quite frankly, much like Pyro, he feels like he can be himself around you. The hair is a very welcoming bonus!

Spy:

- Spy is not always obvious with showing emotions, or displaying them in general. It’s just his nature

- When he catches feelings for you over time, he doesn’t know how to properly respond to them, often isolating himself away from you to try and let those feelings pass

- Unfortunately he caught hard-to-get-rid-of feelings for you and begins to show subtle signs of affection

- It’s 10x easier when he gets to play with your long curly hair. He loves running his hands through it gently and he equally loves styling it up for you

- Sometimes he gives you outfits that match well with your head of hair, and you love it

- This French assassin jut loves your hair. End of story