Not Just a Sister

I’m moving blogs! Find me and Bronislava at the new @bronibear ! 

//Love yous! Have a Bicon

likes artificial watermelon |  sleeps in what they are already wearing |  eats their cereal with milk | listens to music with earbuds |  hates the summer | can recite past the first four digits of pi |  eats frosting out of the jar | doodles on their notebooks |  can bake cookies | has a garden |  has had a snowball fight | eats pancakes without syrup | prefers shorts over pants |can name more than ten superheroes | has a plan for the zombie apocalypse | uses the same password for everything |  can’t hold their breath for more than fifteen seconds | watches anime | hasn’t read harry potter | can say ‘ I love you ‘ in more than one language | prefers mechanical pencils | thinks space is cool | takes personality tests more than once to make sure | can’t tie their shoelaces | has a purse | likes salads | likes cool colors better than warm colors | knows how to braid hair | reads biographies | can ice skate | knows their mbti  | reads astrology charts | prefers the star wars prequels to the original trilogy |  plays video games  | reads the newspaper | likes chocolate ice cream best | doesn’t cuss | memorizes song lyrics|  collects coupons | has a preferred order at starbucks | likes movie theater popcorn | has seen a play | listens to music with headphones | owns a hoodie |  would rather own cds than online copies | has written a poem |  can shuffle cards | subscribes to a magazine |  double dips when eating | drinks directly out of the milk container | keeps a journal

“A war - “ It took Sniper a good few seconds to register what she was saying, eyes squinting at her as he searched through his memories to remember any newspapers headline he could have missed about a war in Europe, of all places. When he finally realised, his face lit up with sudden understanding. “Oh, that war. Nah, this one’s been over for nearly thirty years. I’m ure they’ve rebuilt most of it by now.”

Dear God, and he thought he parents used to have difficulties getting news of the current affairs of the world from the Outback. Looked like Siberia was still one level above in terms of pure isolation. 

“Ye’re a traveller then. A woman after my own heart.” He smirked, visibly satisfied with her answer. There were times when he missed roaming around the Australian desert in his van - always something to see, always something to discover. Or travelling down the road of Louisiana and the American South. Unwittingly, Bronislava was bringing back good memories he had almost lost sight of. He brought the four legs of his chair back on the ground and leaned on the table with his arms crossed over it, one hand still holding his mug of coffee. 

“Only time I’ve ever been to Europe was in Italy for a job. Bloody gorgeous country - if y’wanna go to a city, y’should try Florence. Magnificient architecture. Loads of history.” Even if he couldn’t for the love of God remember any of it. “And great food.” With what almost looked like a genuine smile, Sniper rose his mug to Bronislava as if to toast to her idea. “Travelling forever. Sounds like a good plan. Ain’t the big brother gonna be worried about you?”

It was nice to hear such a different take on the world. Italy. Florence. Bronislava made mental notes of them both. Stored away with the knowledge that Europe may not be the war-torn land she’d imagined it to be.

Though she flushed at the comment of ‘being after Sniper’s the heart’, Bronislava composed herself when the subject turned to her brother. She pulled a face.

“Misha worries about everything.” The Russian lent back in her seat, glancing up at the ceiling in thought. “The only reason he found your friends in Siberia is because he goes on worry patrols. Walks around Siberia worrying someone will get too close.”

Bronislava pulled a face, almost looking sad. Like she regretted what she said. “He means well. I know this.”

— There was a smug ‘ha’ at her comment; A matching grin forming on her visage. Newly invigorated by annoyance alone, but a swollen pride makes for a poor shield.     Though she could see the woman coming, some very dumb, very stupid part of her waited before trying to move out of the way. Thinking that she could move at the last second to further show off her skills, but the idea was cut short as her fist collided with half of her chest; Knocking her back a few steps and with an audible oof. Knocking the air from her lungs with it. A sharp ‘shit’ hissing between her teeth as a hand shot back to cradle the area of impact for  a moment before being thrown back up.

— Well, she did literally ask for it.

— Regardless, she steadied herself before lunging back; Making steps to punch the woman from the right but suddenly feinting to the left to actually try and get a hit back on her.

Contact.

The moment Bronislava hit she recoiled back, standing back. Her hands tucked in close to her body. Tense seconds crept by as the Russian considered asking the Scout if she wanted to stop. She hadn’t really intended to hurt her badly.

Before she could, the American was back. The fight resumed.

She saw the hit from the right coming, throwing up her hands to block that. But it never hit. By the time she realised what was happening, Bronislava was too slow to change stance. 

Coming in from the left, Scout’s fist collided with Bronislava’s shoulder. The Russian grunted and jumped backwards, a hand curled around her shoulder.

PLEASE REPOST INSTEAD OF REBLOGGING!

CURRENTLY PLAYING:

Heavy Weapons Guy

Bronislava 

HAVE PLAYED

BLU Medic

An mlp OC (Pretzel)

MIGHT COMEBACK:

BLU Medic

WOULD LIKE TO PLAY:

My tf2 OC Sasha

My fandomless OC Isaac 

Maybe something overw.atch related but idk

tagged by: @@pisscff  !

Sammy thinks about the best way to word it. “Well, he is quiet, not really talkative. Though, I have noticed if you talk about something he likes you can get him to open up more. I mean its hard sometimes though.”

She remembers how she got him to talk to her about helping her shoot with her compound bow and he was willing to talk and help her. She smirked thinking how close he got to her. “He is also a great sniper. So there is that you know what I mean? A great shot gets it done quick. Great when you need help when taking out uhhh.” She coughs. “Sorry, classified information.”

Bronislava grinned. That was more like it. Her brother had eluded to this much already, but not like this.

Though the classified information was annoying, it was probably nothing Misha hadn’t already told her. Even then, she was sure she could convince him to spill his secrets.

“And he hunts, yes?” She asked, moving onto a new topic by drawing on other things she’d been told, “I like this.”

Laughter was stifled but the smile upon his face was clear: he shouldn’t be laughing at the mishap but he couldn’t help himself.

❛ I am a mercenary but am also gettin’ on in my years, lassie. Years of jumpin’ aroond like a bloody lunatic does some damage, too.

Am no the young man I used to be. ❜ 

He was being over-dramatic, he was far from as old as he was making himself out to be— nonetheless there was nothing wrong with fooling around a little.  A muttered, ‘ cheers ’ is given as he grabbed a hold of her hand, allowing her to do most of the work until he was on his feet once again.

Another groan. He really needed to get back into shape.

❛ Aye, please. I feel like every bone in me body’s broken. ❜

A snort of laughter escaped the Russian as she hauled the man to his feet with relative ease. Only grimacing in pain when the most amount of weight was on her. 

For a brief moment, Bronislava hovered by Demoman, ready to catch or hold him up if needed. Realising that this may not be needed, she backed away. 

“I do not think I broke every bone.” Though she wasn’t quite sure how much the Scotsman was exaggerating. 

Bronislava glanced around the training gym they’d been fighting in. She took a moment to retrieve her ushanka--knocked away in their struggle--and place it back on her head. 

“Uhhhh” She makes the ehh hand gesture. “The cameras yes the photos no.” She sighs. “Man does hate the cameras though I think he is shy. I mean I remember the first day I was on the base and I had to watch him he tilted his cameras. It’s against the rules to do that. I need to observe them, figure out how to help the team improve and do better in their skills and what not. But man was he stubborn. I guess he just had issues with people watching him make jarate….dont ask what that is or how he makes it trust me.” She holds her hand up really meaning it.

“Oh. Do not worry, I will not.” But that wasn’t going to stop her from asking Misha later. 

The camera situation was a little odd to Bronislava, but she again brushed it off. She’d been told about bugged rooms in Russia, she knew about not sharing secrets. 

After looking over the photo once more, she handed it back.

“Already?” Sniper asked, glancing over his shoulder and look at Bronislava, before returning to his coffee pot. “I’d have thought you’d mistreat it some more. Looked like y’were havin’ fun back there.” Much like her older brother. And at least one of her sisters, if what he had witnessed of Zhanna was any indication. Heavy’s family was quite the party, you had to give them that.

Opening one of the cupboards he withdrew two mugs and set them on the counter before pouring the black, bitter, crap quality coffee Mann Co had provided them with until then. He brought both drinks back to the dinner table and handed one to Bronislava; once his hand was freed, he took off his hat and let himself fall onto a chair with a long sigh. Without looking at Bronislava, he pulled a small flash from the inside pocket of his vest; usually his ammo’ safekeep, and poured what looked like whisky in the beverage. 

“So.” Sniper rocked back on the backlegs of his chair, cupping his mug with one hand, eyes flicking back to Bronislava. “What’s the plan? Now that you all left Siberia. Got any idea of where you’d like to go?” Surely Heavy wasn’t planning on keeping them all here - even with the Mann brothers dead and the Administrator out there and Hale back in the picture, Misha couldn’t seriously consider keeping his family in what was essentially the dumbest warzone in the world.

“Oh-- No. I was bored of this.” Fighting inanimate objects got tedious fast. 

She settled herself at the table, sparing a glance around. While mundane to most, the semi-abanded base was very new to Bronislava, not like any cabin or wasteland. With cement walls and thin wooden structures. Some corners had been captured in photographs she’d seen, but most new.

But that didn’t make it interesting. She’d still been dragged here.

Clasping the mug between her two hands, Bronislava was quick to answer. “I want to go to a city. Not sure if to live or to vist.” She brought the coffee to her lips and, after a quick blow, took a sip. It wasn’t as good as she was used to. “Maybe just travel forever, yes? Europe looks nice.”

“Me?” He asked, as though forgetting that elementary politeness (or genuine curiosity) would require her to return the question. “Don’t get much sleep anyway. Thought I’d go make a few Spy-checks when I heard ya turnin’ him into sawdust.” Another nod towards the unfortunate dummy. And a convenient excuse; after everything that had been going in, he would have been surprised to be the only one unable to get through a decent night sleep. The image of his parents (all four of them) still hovered at the back on his mind like taunting ghosts; Spy and Scout had their own family issues to sort out, and Heavy had moved his entire family from the Siberian tundra all the way to a bloody former war zone in the desert of New Mexico.

They all needed some time to adjust, is all.

“Well, I’m goin’ to get some coffee ready in the kitchen. If ya fancy some once you’re done here, it’s just down the hall. Door on the right. Don’t open the one on the left, that’s Soldier’s raccoon sanctuary.” With a polite tip of his hat, he motioned to take his leave.

His reasoning where much more mundane then Bronislava was expecting. Even a little similar to Misha’s late-night wanderings, as much as she’d hate to admit it.

“Oh.” The Russian’s other arm came to join the other, folded over her chest. 

Though she had wanted this freedom for such a long time, it was sometimes difficult to be around people. Especially around someone Bronislava actually admired. Her childhood isolation may have taught her to survive-- but did nothing to aid her social skills. 

She nodded quickly and watched him leave, taking a moment to first grin to herself at the successful social interaction. Then, after putting the dummy away (Stuffing it in the closet she’d found it in and making a mental note to remind her brother later) Bronislava made her way carefully to the kitchen.

Door on the right. She pushed it open hesitantly and peered inside, before stepping into the room proper. There was no need to be so hesitant. 

// @un-cloak

All movements halted at the shout. Bronislava glared over her shoulder at the source of the voice. A Spy. 

She frowned, chewing on her lip. The weapon she’d been ‘swinging’–a large machete–was pulled closer to her body. As if the Spy would take it from her.