tf classic


cH: - Come here, show me that smile of yours.
M :  -I don’t like when you act that way. Rude, you monster…

cH: - Are you disrespecting me?!

*skull cracker* :v

cH: -Ooh, stop craying baby!

cH:  better look at yourself first before judging. I didn’t betray my men. You MONSTER.

M: wouldn’t like to see the monster I can really be.

(srry for the bad english ç-ç)

three types of people at a wedding proposal 

Fic 494: Father & Son

The prompt for today is Under the age of 18/in their youth. It was going to be a fic about a young Dell Conagher, but then my hand slipped and it wound up being more about his dad.

Fred Conagher looked at the suitcase laying on the bed. It had been packed to nearly bursting with the several pairs of overalls and shirts that would be the whole of his identity for the next six months. Tomorrow Greg would roll up in that junker he called a car, and they’d be off to the Gravel Fields again.

It would be a nice change of pace. While Bee Cave was a great place to be a boy, he’d outgrown it by the time he’d finished high school.

“Itchy feet. But you’ll be back.” his pa had muttered under his breath as he’d left. And damn if the old man hadn’t been right. It had taken a couple of years and a couple of trips around the globe, but somehow his feet had found their way back when it was time. Bee Cave might not be a great place for a young man with an advanced engineering degree, but it was a great place to start a family.

The only downside?

“Do you have to go, Pa?”

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Here’s to celebrate the “Speak your own language”-day. Thanks to most of my followers dealing with German posts today, Ich liebe euch! ;) (and a sad goodbye to the few who unfollowed me).

“Ein Unglück kommt selten allein.” is a German proverb which translates to “a disaster seldom comes alone.’‘ 

The English aquivalent would be ’'Misery loves company”.

Fic 414: The Recruit

In honor of the kick off of Cheavy/Medic week, I give you this little drabble for the First Time prompt. My thoughts on the first time the two of them ever saw each other.

“So no one knows where he is?” Heavy growled as he looked across the table at his recently reassembled team. He was met with shrugs and the slow shaking of heads. No one knew where the Medic had gone. It shouldn’t have been entirely surprising. They were all getting up there in years, and any job could easily be their last and anything could happen at this point. Hell, his Engineer had gone and fucking retired on him.

“He’s not responding at any of the old frequencies.” Scout shrugged. “I tried them all. Twice.”

“And there hasn’t been anything at his old locations or numbers.” Spy added with a decidedly bored roll of the eyes. “We can’t honestly wait any more. Gray did say that he had a replacement on the way.”

Heavy barely held back a snarl. “If I’d wanted a replacement, I would have hired one myself. This job’s too important to leave to a rookie. We’re already down Conagher, I don’t need some other wet behind the ears… ”

“Guten Tag!”

Seven heads turned in unison, and seven hands reached for seven weapons. Standing in the doorway was their new medic. Heavy frowned as he looked the man over and not liking one bit of what he saw. The man was young, not as young as some of the idiots he’d had to work with, but still probably couldn’t tell which end of the gun to look down. He had a ridiculous smile on his face, and on his shoulder was perched a white bird. A dove. Like some sort of Euro hippie.

“I do hope I am in the right place. I suppose I am. There are only so many secret bases in this world, ja?”

Heavy scowled as the rest of his team quietly slipped out of the room. They’d known their leader long enough to stay out of the way when that look crossed his face. For his part, Heavy quickly crossed the room with long strides. He knew how to deal with these types. You just needed firm boundaries, and to set them early.

“Now you listen, and you listen good.” His eyes narrowed behind his goggles. “I don’t give a shit what you did before you stepped through that damn door. I don’t give a shit if you can raise the god-damned dead.”

Medic grinned “Oh, that! Raising the dead is no problem at all. The troublesome part is just making sure that you have everything stitched together properly. People get so bothered at the little things, like the left hand on the right arm…”

Heavy’s hand twisted tighter into the white fabric of the doctor’s coat. “I… Don’t… Give… A… Shit…”  

“Goodness.” Medic tutted and patted the side of Heavy’s face. “You heavies are all so, hmmm, intense, shall we say? A little elective surgery would do you a world of good.”

“Oh, I’ll show you intense, you…”

“Ah, Doctor. You’ve arrived. I trust your trip was a pleasant one?”

The thin, reedy voice of Gray Mann cut off the confrontation, and Heavy reluctantly released his hold on the doctor’s coat. Medic seemed little bothered by the whole affair and happily reached out to shake hands with his new employer.

“Quite. And I must say, it is a rather amusing coincidence that I find myself working for another Mann! Who knew the name was so common among the mercenary set.”

“Indeed?” A sickly smile stretched across Gray’s face. “An incredible coincidence indeed. Now, Doctor, why don’t I show you to your lab. I’m sure you’ll find it every bit as good as the one you had with RED.”

Medic’s grin grew wider as he followed Gray from the room. As Heavy watched the flickering tails of the white lab coat disappear down the hall, he was certain of only one thing.

This was going to be a long job.