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goblin-enjoyer · 5 months

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Normalize the tf2 mercs as being absolute genetic freaks of nature under the hood. Medic is crazy and we know he gets paid good so he’s probably got lots of bits in his bin if you know what I mean.

Pyro is straight up nonhuman. Pyro is a fire elemental that the Mann brothers have bound to a hazmat suit and medic made a real boy by giving them meat. Not making her a human body mind you, but rather every time he gets damaged, instead of bursting into flames meat forms around the wound and it bleeds instead of letting the inner crea tur out.how? Wizard. Moving on.

Soldier has massive lungs that make him 20% more louder. If he was smarter he could probably echolocate his way around. That or sound attacks idk he eats wizard pills he could have hollow bones for all I know. Sure he has hallow bones now for rocket jumping. Im the one typing I get to make nonsense on the fly.

Medic put pigeon dna in scout and that’s how he makes his trademark milk-like substance. How this happens you may ask? Scout saw medics doves have sex while getting his second Uber heart surgery and said “man I wish I could pick up chicks that well” and medic said “good idea I will help you with this” and then looked at the camera and smirked. The administrator does not spectate medics lab/operation room/dove breeding center anymore. Also scouts immune to radiation due to all the bonk he ingests, though sometimes he does become radioactive sometimes.

We already know that demoman’s body creates alcohol and that he has a ghost eye, but did you know that if you shoot him with some sort of piercing explosive round he will combust into flames. I… I couldn’t really think of anything for demoman I don’t play him as much.

Engineer always wishes he could have kids, but doesn’t want to have sex. That and he removed most of his reproductive/unnecessary/extra/mid organs with machine parts like 30 years ago. So after the events of the games and comics where everyone is happy and junk, he teams up with medic to make himself some half robot half human half whatever dell conagher is at that point at time children. He asks if medic ever want kids he can do the same for him but he declines as at this point in time he has perfected the art of male impregnation.(on various ape parts) dell is a great father and yes I added this part because the whole humanized sentry thing that went around a while ago touched my heart because despite the words of almost every engineer main everywhere I get so attached to the sentries I build that I die a little bit inside every time I die and my buildings get sapped and I have to just watch as my babies get destroyed. I get too attached to my buildings to play engineer

Heavy doesn’t stop growing, similar to that of a reptile. His skin is as thick as a rhinos. He hibernates for a month in summer because I said so. He has accidentally killed/crushed medic before and is now eternally cautious when in bed with him. Medic doesn’t mind, he knows what he’s gotten himself into. Heavy can also talk to birds like a Disney princess. Medic didn’t add any bird parts for this to happen he just was always like this.

Sniper can dislocate every bone in his body and go through cracks that are at least the size of his head. He will use this to show up in the most unexpected places imaginable. Is legally classified as an tardigrade in some places due to his ability to be fine in almost any place (volcano,Arctic,sewer system, a walk in closet so large it took him 5 weeks to get out, space that one time). Can go up to a year without eating (the team found this out at the same time they figured out the space thing). Swallows things whole.

Spy can shift his flesh around to disguise as almost anything, keeps the mass and weight though. Breaths mostly through his skin so he doesn’t cough due to his decrepit lungs. Was hit by a car once. Doesn’t have anything to do with the subject matter of the tf2 mercs being freakish beings with human skin but I just wanted to include it here.

Medic. What isn’t medic? The only thing consistent with his biology is that he can regenerate somehow. He alters his body so much that it is roughly equivalent to 1 tyranid hive fleet and 2,million ork painboys.(the tf2 mercs would be more likely to work for the orks than to ever work for one of the human factions in 40k and I just needed to get that off my chest) This is how he manages to get away with all the things he’s done. Banned from this continent? Just become a new person who’s not banned from that continent and presto you’re good! The laws don’t account for the ship of Theseus!

#midnight brainrot #man I love posting nonsense late at night #tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 heavy #sniper tf2 #scout tf2 #spy tf2 #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 spy #tf2 scout #tf2 pyro #tf2 sniper #tf2 soldier #tf2 demoman #did I tag this right? I’m not good at tagging things

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magnetictapedatastorage · 7 months

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I wanna hear abt the hair styles of the tf2 characters... and you seem like the expert! I’m drawing them for my friend and like to understand things when I draw ‘em !!

oh man, where do i even start. at the beginning i guess!

scout. what a mess. what did they do to you, boy? what he did to deserve an asymmetrical fringe i don't want to know. his sides are faded out at the very ends but the back is a simple round cut. he also has some volume at the front top, gelled maybe? overall a 0/10

soldier has a nice taper. not much to say, looks like a 2-1, with the line fairly high. on top he could have as much as 3/8" of hair. the back is "square" albiet with some shallow lines from the ears. high and tight.

not much can be known about pyro's hair, but it's likely that not much of it can fit under that mask. that little fold in the back could indicate a length?

demoman has a range of hairstyles available via cosmetics. his most distinctive hair is always his large muttonchops and mustache. the back is square.

heavy, he's light on the hair, with his stubble darker than what's left on top. i believe the phrase is "bald as a polished floor". the back is, god help him, v-shaped. that is very, very, VERY rare to ask for that in real life.

engie i would complain about the angle from the back of your ears to the nape being too steep, but with those teeny tiny lil ears you just won't hear me. not much to say about this one, other than that. it's a crew cut. he probably does it himself with a wahl or some horrible radioactive hair-magnet. the back is so square it puts spongebob to shame.

medic is a funny case. what would have been an old-man hairstyle in the time period of the game, a skin fade, is now the rage among teen boys. whoda thunk. anyways, his fringe is tall and wide, with quite some volume on top to comb forward and hide that receding hairline! the back is round. i will be getting this exact cut when halloween rolls around.

sniper's haircut is... god, where do i even START? seriously. what on earth. the poor man was BRUTALIZED by a barber. okay. okay. very slight window's peak. napeline slightly longer than those sideburns (the only cool part are the sideburns). the front is... gelled? maybe? pomade. maybe. the back is something that defies physics entirely and belies a horrifically misshapen skull and reminds me of a story i heard about girls in 2000s west asia putting multiple bumpits inside of their hijabs at the same time until they looked like a creature. ahem. moving on.

spy's hair is- agh!

#tf2 #barbering #i guess #lol

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presidentbungus · 3 months

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hc: scout has ZERO spice tolerance

mild salsa is too much for him

as funny as this is I think I’m gonna have to disagree because I think the alternative, where Scout is the sort of white boy who soaks every item of food he gets his hands on with sriracha and subsists on a diet mostly composed of increasingly spicy hot wings, is a lot funnier. you know the semi-frat guy you go to dinner with sometimes who always orders a plate of the most noxious-smelling, flesh-sizzling, actively radioactive pile of neon-colored bird remains wherever you go? that’s him. between his penchant for corrosively, disgustingly sweet substances and his constant need to prove himself to the world that he’s spice-resistant it seems like he’s in a constant arms race with his mouth to completely wipe out every taste bud and brother, he just invented the nuke

#tf2 scout #tf2 #bungus headcanons #thanks for the ask!

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froody · 2 months

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Dale Cooper had a whole villain arc when he was 15. He reminds me of the Radioactive Boy Scout case where that guy built a nuclear reactor in his shed for fun.

#a menace and an asset to society

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darkwitchingflower · 4 months

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Percy Jackson and the Olympians / Heroes of Olympus Playlist

Riptide by Vance Joy (Percy)

Demons by Imagine Dragons (Nico)

BANG! by AJR (Leo)

High Hopes by P!ATD (Annabeth)

Diamonds by Rhianna (Hazel)

Superheroes by the script (Frank)

Paris by The Chainsmokers (ok we all know who this ones for)

Freaks by Jordan Clarke (CHB)

Could have been me by The Struts (have u seen those edits? Like you have got to have seen atleast one)

Little Talks by Of Monsters And Men (ye)

Soldier, Poet, King by The Oh The Hellos (Percy, Annabeth, Grover)

Teenagers by My chemical romance (Nico)

Counting Stars by OneRebublic (percabeth in argo ii's stables before Frank finds them)q

Pompeii by Bastille (need I explain?)

Victorious by P!ATD (after the wars)

Imortals by Fall out boy (Camp Jupiter)

Cake by the Ocean by DNCE (Percy)

Shes so lovely by scouting for girls (Percabeth)

Famous Last Words by My chemical romance (long list of deaths here*)

Centuries by fall out boy (Camp Jupiter)

Teenage dirtbag by wheatus (Thalia or Luke)

I ain't worried by OneRepublic (Leo's entire mood through BOO)

House of memories by P!ATD (the 7)

Ophelia by Lumineers (Frazel/percabeth)

Wake me up by Avicii (Gaia)

Labour by Paris Paloma (all demi-gods)

In too deep by sum 41

Sk8ter boi by Avril Lavigne (Percy or Thalia)

Live while we're young by One Direction (the 7)

Mr Brightside by the killers (the 7 being dramatic)

Complicated by Avril Lavigne (Bianca Diangelo, specifically the chorus)

The Campfire Song by The lightning thief musical

Warriors by Imagine Dragons (all demigods)

Radioactive by Imagine Dragons (Leo at the end of BOO)

Somebody to You by The Vamps (percabeth)

Logical by Oliva Rodrigo (Sally Jackson)

Seventeen by MARINA (BOO)

#music #songs #percy jackson #pjo #hoo #heroes of olympus #nico di angelo #will solace #annabeth chase #rick riordan #riordanverse #leo valdez

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yourfriendmonki · 3 months

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The Point of Spiderman and Superman

People think that the point of Spiderman is to suffer. They believe that peter parker has bad luck or that he most always end up unhappy and this just isn't true.

People think that Superman is a boring character. They think he's just a goody two shoes boy scout and that he should just punch people into doing what he wants. This also just isn't true.

Spiderman and Superman answer the question of 'What does it mean to be truly good"

One of these is answered through the lens of someone given the ability to do good and one who was made for it. Peter Parker is just a normal kid, from a blue collar home, bitten by a radioactive spider. He's insanely intelligent, a bit of a shut in, and poor. When gifted great power he (like anyone in his situation) tries to improve his standing in life. Depending on what version of the story you read Peter screwed over by the wrestling agent and when said agent gets robbed peter is presented with an opportunity to help. Peter lets the guy go and the robber goes on to kill Uncle Ben. Peter finds his uncle dying and is left with the famous "With great power comes great responsibility line.

The rest of the spiderman story is Peter grappling with how to be both spiderman and Peter Parker which is interesting but not the point. The origin of Spiderman is him shirking his responsibilities as someone with power and suffering for it. He lets the world get in, make him cold, and believe its okay to let others suffer when you have the power to stop it regardless of circumstance. Peter Parker is supposed to suffer because we all suffer, not because he's Spiderman. Spiderman is supposed to show that despite the fact that everything around is bad you can always choose to be good. You can choose to help those who wouldn't help you. With the newer movies this message is sent as "Anyone can wear the mask."

Anyone with the ability to do good SHOULD do good.

The best description I have ever heard for Superman is "He's a power fantasy for genuinely nice people" AND YES THATS IT!!!!! THATS HIS WHOLE POINT. CLARK KENT IS A GENUINELY GOOD PERSON, HE WORKS SO HARD IN BOTH PARTS OF HIS LIFE BOTH MAN AND SUPERMAN TO STOP INJUSTICE WHERE HE FINDS IT.

Superman is a static character, not boring. His ideals aren't supposed to be changed by the world around him, the world around him is supposed to change against his ideals. He canonically inspires every other hero to start their crusade, he fights Braniac, he saves kittens from trees, he stops the bank robber, he talks someone off a rooftop, because he is Superman and he has the power to be nice to EVERYONE.

Anyone can be Spiderman, anyone can choose to be good. We should all try to be like Superman, doing good in the face of a world that hurts.

Spiderman and Superman do not suffer because they're good.

#spiderman #across the spiderverse #superman #marvel #dc comics #peter parker #clark kent #i am totally normal about this

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atlasarcana · 4 months

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echo bren, act 2 fic 1 snippet (since it's been a while!)

Sydenstar 3, 839 P.D.

He arrives in Ank’harel a few days prior to the ceremony, thinking himself a good student for taking the time to scout. He gets a towel and an empty glass in his hands as a reward.

Bartender work. Well — there’s nothing wrong with scouting in disguise, in fairness. And it is a quick way to learn the clientèle. To overhear conversation and catch words where they escape secrets. More than anything, to make notes.

He spends three days bored out of his mind wiping down the wet bar of a long and golden casino room. He takes orders, he compliments the early-arriving guests. Technically on duty as Volstrucker (though when the duty ever ends is beyond him), he marks easy targets for cornering and conversation. A noblewoman here and there touches his collar too closely, champagne too heavy on her breath, and he takes her to the back room to see the estate wines, of course, and peeks into her mind — only a gentle folding back of paper, not a terrible knife-intrusion — and pockets the rumors and the drivel for himself before spinning her back out to the main bar without a break in charisma.

Twice he escorts a drunk out of the bathrooms. Thrice he rips down Missing posters nailed up in search of some halfling boy.

They smoke a great deal here in Ank’harel. That was the one thing he wasn’t expecting. On a mandated smoke break — a perk he ought to campaign to Ikithon — he steps out onto the great big flat white patios overlooking the great big flat fucking lake of a pool in between the buildings on either side of the property, and gets struck with the thought of diving in from the third storey. Which would be silly, and maybe suicidal, and he does not trust himself to know the difference. The white sun is a ball of eternity in the radioactive blue sky, and every shadow it casts grows long and crisp against all the other pale clay surfaces in a way that reminds him distinctly of ink on parchment. Out here on this patio, a hundred feet from the ground with layers of sandstone between himself and anything that makes a sound, he suddenly feels suffocatingly alone. The property is smack in the center of the Sand-Herald district, which is where all the money and noise is, and yet the two palaces of the resort are such tall, bright, architectural knives that the thousands of civilians beneath him are more like ants than anything. He could shut his eyes and only hear the birds and the breathing swell of the city. The slow, industrial chugging. A far-off clang. A distant splash as someone falls unceremoniously from the diving board.

Days like this made the rest tolerable. But days like this would end. And he would wake up somewhere new again, with another sin tallied under his name somewhere by an accountant in the Nine Hells.

He’s lost in thought for a while until a seagull lands by his feet. Quite a bit out from any ocean here, friend. Though, upon closer inspection, it isn’t a seagull — it’s just a white desert pigeon. Pretty little thing. And clearly, Nicodranas is still in his head if he first went to seagulls. He doesn’t fault himself for it; he doesn’t remember the last time he had so much vacation sex. Or a vacation at all.

Bren stares at the pigeon. He inches closer. He stoops.

On a whim, he uses the hand that isn’t holding a cigarillo to swish Sending into the air.

“Beloved,” he says, staring straight at the bird. “My goodest and greatest and sweetest friend.” He pauses. “Food. Ank’harel. Recommendations?”

He knows what he gives with this information. It is possibly the most treasonous thing he has done in years, and in as little as a word. But he cannot find himself to care.

The bird cocks his head at him. For a long moment, the spell doesn’t seem to take.

Then, the receiver picks up the line: Essek’s voice spins in his head.

Ank’harel… says the Shadowhand, very slowly and direly, as though still digesting his morning evil on the other side of the world.

The bird twitches its head this way and that. Essek’s voice could be speaking through it if Bren tried to overlap them in his mind. He experiments with the idea, squinting.

Well. Anything but a kurrak fruit, says Essek.

Essek-Birdy moves its head in a way that could look offended, and, oh, yes. It is quite funny.

They say it tastes like mango.

Liars. Curs. More like rotten eggs.

Avoid. At all costs.

Essek-Birdy pap-paps its feet on the ground. Pecks at Bren’s boot, thinking it a big brown worm. At the illusory-to-physical difference between a bartender’s boot and a Volstrucker’s boot, the bird spasms with perplexity. Then it flies away.

No kurrak fruits. Well, alright. At least that was one insider fact he hadn’t wormed out by sleeping with the Essek of another timeline. Bren puffs his cigarillo and throws it into the midden by the door.

He’d normally throw it over the side of the building, but he fears the bird picking at it later. He goes inside.

#shadowgast #shadowgast fic #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #fic: echo bren #critical role

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xxiamtiebrousxx · 1 year

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Tf2 Mercs with a S/O who used to be a Chornobyl Liquidator? They even have a medal from the soviet government as proof yet S/O still has a few major health issues due to the radiation, they were allowed to keep a replica of their gear which they got to upgrade, the liquidators were either Soldiers, Veterans, helpers, older people, or maybe even people who lived in pripyat during the event, S/O could of been a soldier who chose to expose themselves to high amounts of radiation during their time shoveling debri off the roof of the power plant, they also helped in spraying down areas with "Borda"(A molasses like liquid that trapped radioactive particles which hardened and soldiers had to peel off and bury) if you've ever seen pictures you have probably seen the liquidators with this outfit on (https://www.pinterest.com/pin/670895675731078322/)

Anyway, I just was wondering how you'd think the tf2 mercs would react to finding out S/O helped in theclean up of the event even knowing they could die or develop cancer in their later life, you can ignore this if you don't want to write it, I'm just currently doing research on Chernobyl and was imagining the tf2 group with a tenth class called the "Liquidator"

P.S ik that chernobyl happened after 1970 but I was thinking maybe the react fic could of been in modern time like early 2000's and S/O is put in their team

A/n: Sorry this took so long! As always, sorry if it seems I'm stereotyping, I'm not. I did a little bit of research on the internet. If there's anything incorrect, please let me know so I can correct it!

Scout:

Scout opened the door to your room. For a while, you had been experiencing some pain in your back. You were breathing a bit harder than usual. Medic claimed it was just some health problems, that’s all, and that you would be back on your feet in no time. But Scout wasn’t too sure about that. He grabbed Demoman and Soldier to help him uncover secrets you were possibly hiding from the team. You were away right now. Scout snuck in easily. Your room was small and neat compared to Scout’s. His room was a complete mess. He scoffed.

“Yeah, let’s see what secrets you’re hiding,” he said. He checked your closet, floorboards, and under your bed. There was nothing secretive. Unless pennies in shoes were considered suspicious, Scout was at a dead end. He sighed. Your uniform was laid out on the bed. There was a small medal attached to the chest pocket. “Hmm, never seen that before,” Scout mumbled to himself, grabbing it. The words were written in foreign language. He took the medal to Heavy and had him translate. You came back from a medical checkup when Scout confronted you.

“Oh, hey,” you tiredly said. He had a frustrated expression on his face. He wasn’t trying to seem mad.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a Chernobyl liquidator!” Scout exclaimed. “It took me a while to figure it out! The first clue shoulda been your class name.” You breathily laughed.

“Vy tse zrozumily (You figured it out),” you replied. “Let me guess, Heavy read the medal for you.” He nodded. “Do you have any questions?” Oh boy, he was excited. He rapidly asked questions so fast, you didn’t have time to answer. Some of his questions were very easy to answer, like where you were when the disaster happened. Some were asking about myths that didn’t exist, like if it was Godzilla who caused the power plant to explode. He was very giggly like a child. But aside from all this, he was worried about your health problems. They weren’t severe yet. You had a long life ahead of you and Scout was with you every step of the way. He never boasted to anyone that his significant other helped cleanup more debris than a robot. He did rant about it to his mother though. Scout created fundraisers to raise money for doctor checkups. You were very lucky to have someone like Scout.

Soldier:

Soldier never thought you were a soldier too. What did you do before you were a mercenary? To put it simply, help clean up much of Chernobyl. You were a veteran living in Pripyat who volunteered to clean up Chernobyl, though you kept that part of your life hidden from Soldier. On the battlefield, you were known as the Liquidator, trapping your enemies in a gooey trap then scraping their dried remains off. He didn’t know, but your weapon was a modified version of the contraption you used to spray down the power plant. You were dressed in a gas mask all the time with goggles and a strange suit.

“I’m home,” you called out, closing the door. You sighed heavily. Today’s battle was hard. You needed a break after your small walk you had returned from. Soldier popped his head out of the kitchen.

“Hey cupcake,” he said. You dropped your bag on the floor. “We’re having steak for dinner, if you don’t mind.” You mumbled “alright.” You sat down on the couch and turned the T.V on. Soldier had some educational videos recorded and saved. You had some memory problems and would forget things most of the time. It worried Soldier. He slipped the steak off the pan and served it onto a plate. He came out. You were watching a small video on Marie Curie’s discovery of radium. They talked about health problems that came with being radiated. Soldier changed the channel. “C’mon, it’s time to eat,” he said. You followed him quietly to the table and sat down. You were distracted by the T.V. He sighed, sitting next to you.

“Soldat, ty znayesh, shcho take Chornobylʹ (Soldier, do you know what Chernobyl was)?” you asked. That was a weird question. Of course he knew. It was a nuclear disaster from 1986.

“Why do you ask, cupcake?” he replied.

“I was a “bio-bot,” as they called us,” you answered, recalling the cleanup. Soldier turned off the T.V. “During the cleanup of Chernobyl, they sent in robots. But because of high levels of radiation, they malfunctioned. So they sent in bio-bots, or liquidators,” you explained. Soldier began to understand now. The suit you wore on the battlefield was to protect you from the radiation. You absorbed 25 rems of radiation. You were part of that 90% that cleaned off the debris. “It was a year after I returned from serving my time in the army. They needed volunteers,” you said. Soldier placed his hand on your back. He knew that he would have to help you and wouldn’t hesitate to. He got you to appointments on time, he paid off medical bills, and helped comfort whenever you had to take something nasty. You both would get through this together.

Pyro:

Was there something wrong with you? You have been acting strange lately and your health wasn’t doing too good. You laid on the couch. You were sleeping and breathing heavily. Pyro pokes your cheek gently. Maybe the answers to your ill state could be found in your room. He knocked on the door even though you were lying on the couch. He didn’t want to invade your room, but he had to know what was going on. Your uniform was lying neatly across the bed. A medal was tucked under your uniform. It sparked a small curiosity in him. He took your entire uniform and started sewing in patches he made, burning edges, painting on your mask. He had figured it out. He was watching the news when they announced what happened in Chernobyl. You knew he didn’t really understand. There were going to be problems on the way and you didn’t want Pyro to worry. You never told him about your job as a liquidator. It was hard trying to keep a calm face when he showed you your graffitied uniform.

“Um, that’s nice,” you hesitantly said. He placed the sleeve with the Balloonicorn stickers in your hand. The one that caught your eye was the nuclear bomb sticker. Pyro noticed you eyeing it.

“Mmph (what’s up)?” he asked. You gently took the edge of your uniform’s collar. Your medal was hidden under there. “Mmph mmph mmph (Oh yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask about that).” You softly smiled and put your uniform down.

“Tse dovha istoriya, pozhezhnyk (It’s a long story, firebug),” you answered.

“Mmmph mmph (Aw, c’mon),” Pyro whined. “Mmmph mmph (Tell me, please)?” He placed both his hands on the sides of his mask. You playfully rolled your eyes.

“Fine, I’ll tell you,” you answered. Pyro cheered and sat with his legs crossed. You had been living in Pripyat a year after it had been founded. You lived there for the longest time. Until the Chernobyl accident. You were one of the many volunteers who cleaned up debris. Not only did you shovel off debris and spray down areas, you were a janitor who disposed of people’s food in their homes. You were given your medal as a sign of your bravery and help. Pyro was very happy to know his loved one was a hero. He swore on his balloonicorn that if your health started to decline, he would take care of you. And not with his toy doctor’s kit. On the battlefield, he would stay by your side and watch you take down enemies. He would just watch. He was waiting for you to collapse so he could catch you. But Pyro quickly learned that even if your health was shaky now, you would make it through. This didn’t stop Pyro from taking your uniform and drawing all over it after watching it.

Demoman:

It was snowing outside. Demoman was watching TV while you were on the roof shoveling snow off. Why you would be doing that now, he didn’t know. Demo just knew that you were good at shoveling stuff off. It brought back some memories from your days of peeling off dried Borda and shoveling radiated debris. Demoman didn’t know you helped back in the Chernobyl incident even though you had told him several times. He never could remember, since he was drunk most of the time. There was a loud crash outside that snapped Demoman out of his drunken haze. You had almost slipped off the roof and were hanging off the edge. He rushed outside and carefully brought you back down.

“What were you doing up there?” he asked, bringing you inside. You closed the door behind you.

“Padav snih (It was snowing),” you replied. Demo turned around.

“If you want to shovel something, shovel the driveway and not the roof,” he said. You sat the shovel against the wall.

“Sorry, it’s a habit,” you answered. Demoman turned around, curious. What did you mean by “it’s a habit”? He watched you sit down and turn on the T.V. Demo snuck off into your room. There had to be more to this story. He was suddenly intrigued. What did you say you were before you were a mercenary? A liquidator? There was a medal that you had talked about all the time. He eventually found it in your drawer. It was gifted to you by the Soviet Union. It was proof that you helped clean up Chernobyl. Demoman returned to the living room. He understood now. He remembered all those times you told him about your past. You had recently moved to Pripyat when the accident happened. You sprayed and shoveled off areas. You thought with your uniform, you would end up being okay. You were exposed to radiation and developed health issues. That was one thing Demoman didn’t know. You didn’t want to worry him.

“Aye, Y/n, you were a liquidator, right?” he asked. “Would it be alright if I asked some more about it?” You thought about it. Eventually, you would have to tell Demoman the whole truth now. It seemed he remembered everything you told him.

“Zvychayno (Sure),” you answered. You patted the seat next to you. “Now, would you like to know how borda worked?”

Heavy:

The suit you always wore, which had been upgraded when you joined the team, looked very familiar to something Heavy had heard of. You were part of the team for some time now. He had seen a Soviet government medal sitting on top of your drawer. You were a liquidator. You kept most of your life secret from everyone. Heavy started piecing the clues together. You had photos of your life before your mercenary job. The background was always the same. It was the same city, just at different angles and different times. He didn’t think too much of it. But he did start to think about it when he found out you had acute radiation syndrome. You were hematopoietic. Medic was doing his best to keep the number of blood cells in you up. It was starting to show.

“Y/n, why are you so leetle?” Heavy asked. You knew what he meant by that. He never wanted to ask why you were constantly sick, or weak, as he was trying to say. You didn’t want to tell him you had been diagnosed with ARS a few years after Chernobyl and its clean up. You were there as a liquidator. Not only did you scrape off the dried radioactive particles and bury them, but you worked to make sure radioactive material didn’t enter the aquifer of Chernobyl’s reactor. Your class name and uniform gave it away. Heavy eventually came to the conclusion you were a Chernobyl liquidator. That’s how you got sick, exposure to radiation.

“Oh, hey Heavy,” you said. He sat down next to you, with a worried look on his face. He put down your medal on the table.

“Y/n, Pochemu ty ne skazal mne ran'she (why didn’t you tell me sooner)?” he asked. You softly smiled and took Heavy’s hand.

“YA ne khotiv, shchob ty khvylyuvavsya (I didn’t want you to worry),” you answered. “It was my duty. I wanted to help.” Heavy gave a sigh. He understood. On the battlefield, you constantly helped the others. You’d spray down the enemies as a distraction so your teammate could get away. He leaned over and kissed your forehead. Heavy knew you would survive whatever life threw your way.

“Ne volnuysya, moy malen'kiy geroy, ya budu zdes', chtoby pomoch', yesli ya tebe kogda-nibud' ponadoblyus' (Don't worry my little hero, I'll be here to help if you ever need me),” he said.

Engineer:

You had told him you were an engineer as well. He asked what you majored in. You never answered Engie. It wasn’t a total lie. You were an engineer in search of a job when you came to Pripyat. You were originally going to take a job as one of Chernobyl’s engineers, but you decided to hold off. It was a good thing you did. You ended up volunteering as a liquidator to help clean up after the accident. That was one thing the Engineer didn’t believe when he found out. You dealt with thyroid cancer. That’s why he refused to accept the truth. He didn’t want to see his sweetheart struggle because of your choice. You willingly volunteered to clean up Chernobyl, even if you knew you risked getting sick. This strained your relationship with Engie. But you weren’t going to let your past ruin it completely.

“Hey, ne hanyaytesʹ za shpyhunamy bez mene (Hey, don't go chasing after spies without me)!” you called out. You were dressed in your uniform, which had been modified for the battlefield. Engy was setting up his nest when you called out for him. He looked up. You were smiling brightly. You were a bit more cheerful than most days.

“Howdy,” he replied, slightly surprised by your sudden mood change. Were you keeping a secret? Was your cancer getting worse? Engineer followed you like a hawk during the battle. You sprayed down enemies, froze them, then shattered them like glass. “Darlin’, is there something wrong?” Engineer asked during the second round.

“Ni, chomu (No, why)?” you asked. Engineer removed his helmet.

“Well, you’ve been actin’ a bit weird and Ah’m starting to worry,” he said. You smiled.

“Nothing bad is happening,” you answered. You placed your hand on his shoulder. “I was waiting to tell you at dinner, but my cancer has gone into remission.” Engy looked up, this time, truly surprised. You had gone to an appointment the other day for a checkup. Your doctor called you this morning with the good news. Engineer almost cried. He apologized for everything. You accepted his apology. To celebrate, he cooked his famous bacon meal.

Medic:

You? A Chernobyl liquidator? Medic found out as soon as he got a good look at your medal. He might’ve also broken into Pauling’s office and stolen your file. He was debating whether to be ecstatic that you were a Chenobyl liquidator and that meant that there was possible experimenting on you, or if he should have had a different feeling about all this. Even though you were exposed to radiation, there were no signs of major health problems. You had tiny problems. If there were any major problems, Medic would just fix them easily. You were a little uncertain about having a crazy doctor watch over you. Medic kept his word and didn’t experiment on you. He was interested in your history. You two would sit at the table and Medic would ask questions.

“Vhy clean up Chernobyl?” he asked.

“Tomu shcho Pryp'yatʹ bula moyim domom (Because Pripyat was my home),” you answered, sipping your drink. “Got any other questions?” Medic smiled.

“Ja, what did you have for lunch breaks?” It was simple nights like that you enjoyed. Just sipping coffee, or tea, with Medic under the cheap, dining room chandelier. Something you enjoyed besides talking with Medic was using your old equipment out on the battlefield. You sprayed down enemies, freezing them, and then either peeled or smashed them to bits. They always kept coming back. Even if they tried to ignore you, you simply redid the whole process again. Medic may have taken some body parts for experimentation. You had a replica of your old uniform. It was slightly worn but it worked perfectly. Medic actually helped upgrade your suit. He changed the style just slightly so it matched his uniform. You didn’t let him upgrade the mask though.

Sniper:

When he first met you, you were dressed in your gear. It scared Sniper, but he started less scared about your uniform the more he learned about you.You two had been together for a while. He knew you were a liquidator who cleaned up Chernobyl. Your medical file had a long list of issues you had since 1986. Your cancer was in remission and you were recovering from hair loss. You still went to your doctor for checkups. You were doing fine so far. Sniper kept a close eye on you. You weren’t dealing with anything else. He was grateful for that. He worried day and night that you were going to suffer. He was scared he couldn’t do anything. You didn’t want him to worry so hard that his hair would turn gray. So the first thing you did after requesting time off was research how to deal with cancer, including emotionally.

“Pryvit, Snayps! Yak spravy sʹohodni (Hey Snipes! How are you)?” you happily said one morning. It surprised Sniper slightly.

“Morning Roo,” he hesitantly answered. You tried to keep your lifestyle the same. You kept enthusiastic, trying to give Sniper hope that you would be fine. He also did research on how to deal with cancer as your loved one. You both would share each other’s thoughts and feelings. Another way you both got through this was relaxing. You’d take Sniper out on picnics or he’d drive you out at night to gaze up at the stars. It was nice. Unfortunately, Scout knew a lot of lies about cancer. For a while, he would ask if you were contagious or if you were fit to work. Sniper would get mad. He scolded poor Scout, calling him a couple of names. Spy eventually had to pull Sniper away before he started pulling on Scout’s ear. It was a bit hilarious to watch the scene play out. Scout apologized and didn’t talk to you for a while. “Hmpf, that oughta teach him.” You rolled your eyes, shaking your head.

“Klasychnyy Snayper (Classic Sniper),” you said.

Spy:

Spy bit his lower lip. Did you have days to live? No, you were a fighter. You were going to survive. You “told” Spy that you had medical problems. He found out snooping through your medical files. Actually, it wasn’t that bad. You had a small growth of cancer in your arm. Medic would be taking care of that sooner or later. This led to a series of investigations. He dug through files he stole from Ms. Pauling. He found your file and took it back home. He was scared as he read the first couple of pages. It turns out you were a media that documented the Chernobyl disaster. After that, you helped spray down contaminated areas and bury the radiation. Your heavy, muffled breathing scared Spy as you entered the room. He threw the file under his seat and pulled out The Dapper Cadaver magazine.

“Vechirniy shpyhun (Evening Spy),” you said, taking off your gas mask. The file under his seat caught your eye. “Shcho u vas pid nym (What do you have under there)?”

“Nothing, cherie,” he answered, kicking the file away. It was clear he was trying to hide something. You knew what it was. Sooner or later he was going to find out. You leaned against the doorway with your arms crossed.

“If you know some things about Chernobyl, then you probably figured out I was a bio-bot,” you said. “Five thousand people, including me, absorbed a lot of radiation. I joined the team because they had medical insurance.” Spy chuckled. That was not true about Mann Co. They only provided dental insurance. You took a seat next to Spy and took his hands in yours. “Shpyhun, tobi ne potribno khvylyuvatysya (Spy, you don’t need to worry),” you said. “I’ll be fine, I promise. Leave the worrying to me.” He chuckled.

“Je suppose que j'avais juste besoin de te faire confiance (I guess I just needed to trust you),” he replied. That was all Spy needed. Just a little faith that you were going to survive. And you did.

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