Mercs With A S/o That Loves To Play Fight

@hawtowo​

falls over and these tumble out of my pockets-

Oops! I dropped this fanart...

She’s here!!! I love her new design sm and seeing as you were doing doodles of other people’s characters and others have done so for you as well, I figured I’d hop in and doodle some fanart of her too!

Hope I got the design right, I need to get used to more complicated ones again..!  ♥

Merasmus is that you???

sitcom about living with a wizard

Makin’ my way downtown (the sequel)

it’s friday, post the dancing demoman

a bastard

How would Spy react to not being able to find his knife, only to see some little kid messing with it?

LET ME SEE WHAT YOU HAVE,

A KNIFE!

NO!

SMALL CHILD WIELDS SHARP OBJECT, LOCAL SPY CONFOUNDED!

His first feelings would likely be of confusion, anger, followed by seething rage when he noticed his knife was missing. After all, he was the Spy, no filthy pickpocket could simply take it. There was no way he had forgotten it either, as he triple checked his belongings and kept them on his person at all times. Being in public, there was no way for Spy to necessarily do much about it. He couldn’t just shout “WHERE IS MY KNIFE?!” To the world, and so he forces a deep breath and begins to search, splitting off from the team and looking about without garnering attention, as if he were merely a tourist.

At first, he had expected to be looking for any suspicious individuals, not anyone barely up to his middle in height. Yet, after a minute or two of scanning the room, there had been no other options, and right there. A lone child, holding a knife.

They were practically begging to be yelled at, dragged by the ear and taken to their guardians for such a bold defiance of all things he held dear, yet… It seemed the child had no parents in their midst. They were enthralled by the blade, flicking it between their fingers and trying to get the butterfly knife to do a trick or two, the light metal clattering far less satisfyingly in their smaller hands. Yet, while not masterful, the little kid treated the weapon with respectful caution, lacking precision but aware that their plaything was dangerous and sharp.

Spy found himself staring, rather than doing anything about it. Nothing about their appearance resembled his son, it wasn’t as if he had reason to not snatch it away and be done with it, yet here he was. Perhaps he saw a bit of his younger self in their eyes, or in the way they had healthy caution for the unknown, yet played with it anyway. 

Eventually, he exhaled and wandered over to the child, unsure what angle with which to approach the situation. Putting out his cigarette and kneeling down to get to eye level, he left a hand outstretched for them to return the knife, frowning.

“This is mine, mon petit, may I have it back…?

The child seems afraid, immediately shocked that they were caught. They shake their head, mumbling a “noo…”

“And why is that?” He has to force himself to be patient. Interacting with children is not his forte, but perhaps it feels like a second chance.

 Reminding himself this is a stranger, but unwilling to walk away without at least getting his knife back, and giving the child reason not to do such a thing again.

They blink, looking down at the butterfly knife. “Cause it’s pretty and feels good to use… Whus your accent from? S’all sounds pretty...”

Spy, shocked by the answer, goes silent, before sighing.

“Well, it is unwise to play with dangerous objects, mon ami. And… It is French. Do you know French?”

“My momma was from France! I knew I recognized th’ talking…”

“And where is she now..?”

The child’s expression immediately falls, and Spy needs no verbal answer to know what may have happened.

“Have you any other guardians?”

They shake their head, pointing down the road towards the old orphanage, shrugging sadly.

“Don’ matter, s'alright…”

There was the anger again, but now tenfold. Not at this child, but at himself. Of course he had to converse with the child, feel protective, now look at him. He had a job to do, he should have just grabbed the knife and went on with his day. 

When they finished talking, and Spy had left, there was a hollow feeling in his chest. Guilt, was it? Insecurity? Knowing the effect of not being present, it felt as if perhaps he was being given a second chance, yet he wasn’t sure how willing he was to throw it away.

Returning to the base, there were quite a few phone calls made to Miss Pauling, then the Administrator herself. Paperwork, negotiations, how in gods name would he work this out- Convincing Miss Pauling to allow a child into the base-- so long as battles were separate and hidden from their view, had been a breeze, but it was the Administrator, a cold, cruel hag of a woman whom he knew would take issue with the idea. It was to the point that he had been conversing through the night, even just in his white button up and suit pants, but he continued to talk.

What would his teammates think? He dreaded to find out, he merely hoped none of them would question it or tease him, but he knew he would come under fire, if only because he was the Spy, an uncaring, cold, emotionless figure.

At the very least, he knew he had time to pass, since the time in which it would take to get the paperwork in order, a new room built, etcetera, would give him ample time to learn more about who it is he was about to bring to the base.

That next day, a child wakes up to a gift by an unknown donator, all they know is it was a man with a vest and tie, with salt and pepper hair, inside of which is the materials to make the popsicle stick butterfly knife, a soft rabbit plushie, and a note written in a very simple cipher for them to solve.

“Pack your things in two weeks, If you see a woman in purple, she is your friend.”

𝙲 𝚑 𝚊 𝚙 𝚝 𝚎 𝚛   𝟷 𝟶   𝚜 𝚗 𝚎 𝚊 𝚔   𝚙 𝚎 𝚎 𝚔 .

"𝘠'𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭."

I must make the Kalteshulter.

The deadline is coming.

If there is any time to debut my work, it is now.

You enter the Medbay to the sound of rustling papers and a pen scribbling. The noise is over by the corner, where a former doctor sits hunched over an overflowing stack of paperwork and contracts.

He notices you arrive, poking his head up from what looks to be a headache in the making, and smiles.

Hallo, mein Lieber! I’m afraid I’ve been quite busy as of late… Scout instructed me to create an… “Ask… Blog…” whatever zat means, so I’ve been quite behind on paperwork… 

Hahah, anyway, did you need something..? You have a question for me?

Well, ask away, then! Just- err, let me finish these contracts first…

ASKS ARE OPEN!

stop that! stop reading my mind! >:(

hi! basically, i made a color coded characters uquiz 

that’s all :)

How the mercs would cuddle

Really want some soft stuff rn figured I’d share

Not really in any particular order? I just picked some mercs from the pile and put em in there.

Image from tf2gallery

Scout

Touch starved, Scout will melt into any move regarding affection possible!

He’s adamant that he thinks cuddling is gross, but you know he’s a cuddlebug when the two of you are alone.

Prefers to hug facing you while sitting in your lap, maybe leaning against something so you’re more comfortable.

If you’re taller, he’ll probably be attached to your side, arms around your torso.

If you’re shorter, his arms are around your shoulders, head leaning next to yours.

Heavy

Doesn’t mind public displays of affection, though he seems surprised at how confidently you show that he’s your s/o or platonic friend-

Normally when the two of you are together, he has you wrapped up in a bear hug with you resting on his chest.

Other times, if you’re somewhere like a couch, you’ll sandwich yourself between him and the back as if he’s a wall of safety.

But most of all, Heavy prefers to be held. Even if he’s the bigger guy, he’s the little spoon and it shows. He’s always afraid of crushing you in his grip, and he’s always been the mother hen type. Having you there to be his emotional support means the world to him.

Demoman

Being so broad shouldered means hugging can be an issue at times. When cuddling, the two of you tend to be in a sort of sideways position around each other, curled up like cats. The other mercenaries find it hilarious, especially when Demo is drunk and unable to realize he’s even with somebody, holding you to his chest while you just lay there smiling, content.

He is. A sweetheart when it comes to that kind of thing. When he’s more sober, which isn’t very often, he’s much closer and tries to make the best of remembering the moment.

Spy

Being the most well versed in the world of romance, one would think that Spy would be a cuddler. He’s not.

He’s great with giving out compliments, whispering them in your ear as he brings you closer into his arms, but the second you approach him and he isn’t expecting it, he freezes up quicker than lightning.

“Mon cher, what is it you are doing?”

He’s completely flabbergasted by the idea of just. Sitting, and relaxing next to another person? He much prefers to be alone, but you manage to convince him to try after an unbelievable amount of effort.

At first, it started with him sitting, unsure next to you with you leaning into his side, or maybe with your arm wrapped around his shoulder and your head nestled into the crook of his neck.

Eventually he warms up to it, returning the gesture of having one arm around your shoulders and ith the other hand preoccupied with a book, a cigarette or a glass of wine.

After a particularly long battle, disheveled and ready to throw something, he realized just how helpful having somebody there with him turned out to be. No need for any fancy rituals, just being in each other’s company. He’s drooped over in your arms, hung over your shoulder sideways and exhaustedly bringing you both into a laying position, just so you can both talk without the effort of sitting up.

Medic

Medic is a busy man, constantly moving about in the infirmary attending to his latest inventions or tending to his beloved doves.

He hates when he has no say in something, which is why you have to convince him to step away from his projects after two days without sleep by being there with him for practically every second.

He’s the big spoon, no questions asked. It gives him the feeling of having control over a situation, having you in his arms and close to his chest.

Around the base, particularly if waiting for an early morning mission to begin, he loves it when he can use somebody’s lap as a pillow, meaning yours are the first choice.

When he truly cannot step away from his work, you can probably try sitting in his lap. He likely finds it cute, but he’s very absorbed in his experiments. This means he’s on autopilot and might slice you a few times when reaching over to make an incision, so it’s a risky move for both parties.

Sometimes in the evenings while doing paperwork, when warm orange sunlight filters through the window and onto the desk, he can be found conked out in his office chair, with you in his arms, facing against his chest. When this happens, the doves join in, tucked beneath your neck, on his shoulders, on the seat by your legs, some are even brave enough to quietly nest in your hair. You both deny it happened when scout walked in on the sight while looking for a bandaid.

Sniper

Much like Scout, Sniper is hopelessly touch starved and any affection sends him into overdrive.

Prefers to sit straddling your hips, he’s got long, long legs and is NOT afraid to use them.

Speaking of legs, your cuddling positions can get a bit crazy at times. Considering the fact they can fold entirely across your back, his hugs are more like a trap than an actual method of snuggling up to each other.

When lying down, it’s easier for you to lie on his chest than anywhere beside him thanks to how long his limbs are, but you both don’t mind.

Even just sitting beside each other, Sniper practically melts. Hug? He’s jello. Pet his hair? Cries.

The way he holds you isn’t just for his own comfort though. He’d sacrifice it to see you happy in his arms. No, it’s because in the end, he always has to have one eye open and is therefore rather protective of you.

It’s a sort of defense mechanism, really. If you can’t move away, nobody can try and take you or steal you either. He’s too embarrassed to admit it though, or maybe he just doesn’t know how.

Either way, seeing you safe and sound in his arms is enough.

Not doing all the mercs, but if you want to see the others let me know! It’s just getting late and I need to sleep, also don’t really have many ideas for the other mercs hhh-