#thatneverwas

@thatneverwas​:

A long-suffering sigh as he rubbed his forehead. The Soldier was waiting for him as soon as he stepped out of the base. Of course.

“A thousand pardons, mon ami, but I cannot do it tonight.” Alexis gestured at his shirt - a subtle shade of maroon, almost so brown one couldn’t tell it was in the red spectrum. Easier to sneak in his suitcase than something more boldly anti-BLU. “This is one of my finer shirts, and if I tear it, I do not know if there is a man who can properly fix it within nine day’s journey of this base.”

He paused, then a faint smile came over his face. “Perhaps you could come with me? I could buy you a few rounds, to apologize. Get you some time away from the base, perhaps.”

Stealth may not have been in Soldier’s wheelhouse, but that doesn’t mean he won’t attempt to employ it from time to time. The situation has to call for it, especially to go so far as to sneak away from his base. It’s near impossible for the mercenary to do anything without stating his intentions. 

Upon finally being outside the RED Base, he exhales the breath he had been holding since he’d kissed his raccoon good bye. He’s lightheaded, and sways in the evening breeze, but his mission calls to him. Unable to settle down after his evening meal, left feeling socially unsatisfied and antsy, Jane impulsively decided a good tussle with a willing opponent was the only cure. 

It’s only dumb luck that the Spy is the first member of his team to exit the building by the time Soldier had taken watch. The dried out bush he is standing in provides no cover. After Jane’s declarative shout, the spy uses a dastardly distracting technique of.. talking about clothing. Well, it does look nice--

Jane’s nose flares and scrunches, he hates that topic. That said, the authoritative team at RED added a rule stating the Soldier isn’t permitted to leave the grounds without a chaperone, which makes the Spy’s offer very tempting. So tempting that he drops his fists from the defensive position he had taken upon seeing the spy.

"That is. Genuinely disturbing."

Scout didn’t seem all that phased, using the corner of a wall to scrape away what brain matter and skull fragments he could be bothered to, lazily cocking his head over to the spy.

“What, you never seen a man’s head been caved in before?” He asked, non-nonchalantly, followed a small smirk and wry chuckle.

A long time ago

1958

Sasha’s nimble fingers carefully turned the dial of the radio, Russian voices dipping in and out of the radio static. Until eventually, different voices popped through, speaking a language neither of them understood. Then came music. 

Lively, upbeat, swing music. American music. As loud as they dared, which was almost silent.

“I told you, you need small fingers for shit like this.” Sasha said, wiggling his fingers at Misha. The giant laughed.

“Little children’s fingers, more like.” He teased in Russian. “You only got it because the sky is clear.”

The two of them idly glanced skywards at its mention, stars twinkling back down at them. It was a clear night on the Soviet city rooftops.

“Maybe so, or maybe I’m just the lucky one.”

"First of all" he started "I came out here to have a conversation. Not the best way to start one up, but I figured it would be a good topic to talk about." Dell shrugged slightly.

"I do all I can" Dell said softly "but this, working with Mann Co, its been something I've longed for since I was a child. As much as I want to change the world, to march out in the streets, this is where I belong. This is what I want to do with me time." He felt like this is truly where he belonged. Putting his mind to good use, and working hard doing so. Even if he wasn't out there saving lives, or changing the world.

“Oh no.”

Alexis could see the lump on Russell’s head - it must have happened just before the match ended. He couldn’t let the Scout go to Medic. Not with the mood the man had been recently.

“That’s…very nice, Scout,” he said softly, quietly laying a hand on his shoulder and steering him towards the back entrance of the base, away from the others. “A very helpful skill. But let’s not overwhelm you - I’m going to take you to a quiet place, so there’s not so much to….read. Is that okay?”

“Yeah... I’m like... reading them...” 

He was dizzy, and his head was hurting like shit. Just his luck the RED got mad about losing the match and bashed his head in for it. Still, this was almost fascinating. 

He watched as he listened to Alexis talk. He could see the words forming right in front of his eyes, like the subtitles in a movie. They were shaky and static-y, but they were there. 

“Yeah... it is pretty cool... hurts though...” he said. He could see even his own words puff out in front of them in the air, like one’s breath on a cold Winter morning, before they vanished again. 

He could hear the talking of the other mercs. It was fainter, which made the words less easy to understand.

A jackjaw flew overhead, cawing. The ‘gah’, ‘gah’ it made flew in front of his face. 

My muse in a relationship ?s

Please include if you want answers for a particular verse or ship.

🛏What is their favorite bedroom activity to do with their partner?

13 Years Ago - Age 12

Russell crept through the corridors, towards the staff toilet. His weapon of choice was curled up in his hand, which was tucked into his pocket for good measure. No one was in there right now, but it wouldn’t be long until someone came along.

“Russell…” Russell froze and stopped when he heard a voice. It was Bradley. He had most likely been sent to the principal’s office again. He smelled of some girl’s perfume. 

Typical… 

“What are you doing?” he asked. Russell raised a finger to his lips. 

“Teaching someone a lesson,” he said, “If you’re, you’re, you’re gonna treat me, like, like an idiot for stammering, then you gotta, f-f-face the shit for it.”

“Heh, as you were,” Bradley said, grinning, “I’ll probably hear about it tomorrow after the Principal is done kicking my ass. Hey, it’s not my fault so many nice girls want a bit of me.” 

He then turned and swanned away, not noticing Russell rolling his eyes. He never cared. He was always proud of himself, even when he had to face the principal.

Nonetheless, Russell continued. He made it to the toilet, finding the one that Mister Gridle liked to use most. He carefully placed the fake spider under the toilet seat, where it would leap from when it was lifted.

He made his escape. No one knew he had been there. 

It was said that that Mister Gridle’s scream was heard throughout the school, and that there was more than just piss to clean up from the floor that day. Sure, he didn’t know it was Russell, but that was a small price to pay for giving him something he felt he deserved.