#i love his mask but i fucking hate his helmet rig
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Keegs
Couldn’t decide between versions so here’s all of them
#call of duty#cod#cod fanart#keegan p russ#cod keegan#keegan russ fanart#cod ghosts#call of duty ghosts#digital art#artists on tumblr#art#fanart#call of duty fanart#cerberulix art tag#lmk if i should hide thr extras under a read more function#i love his mask but i fucking hate his helmet rig#it was a nightmare to find references for#hmu if u have hq keegan models papa bless
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So I decided to live blog some thoughts on We’re Not Going Home as I watch. And here... we... go...
- I love Bones
- Tyler loves the camera
- Pavelski is a daddddyyyyy
- I need captions
- “SECURITYYY”
- They’re allowed to swear in these? The Pens swears get bleeped out in In The Room. This is so much more fun
- I would run through a brick wall for Jamie Randolph Benn
- I took Big Rig for granted when he was in Pittsburgh. Forgive me father, for I have sinned.
- They are swearing a LOT. And it’s mostly the coaching staff
- The Calgary series was so fun to watch
- Matthew Tkachuk is a little fucking shithead (also ily Matty)
- Was Tyler’s hip injured before or after he kicked that football? Either way I’m mad at him
- Jamie. Come on. What are those grey shorts. I already saw them and am still appalled
- Dicky is hot
- “Fuck fucking fuck fuck fucking fuck” - Bones
- Dicky is S U P E R hot
- Leg tat. Jamie. Phew
- Corey Perry is a rat
- I love you, Nate Mackinnon
- Oh they’re using the 2017 Pittsburgh Penguins as inspiration? Not a big deal
- (I remember when we were good)
- Jamie put your mask on
- Not over your eyes
- DICKY you’re beautiful
- Jamie with the puppy dog eyes ugh
- Wow I forgot how wild Game 7 vs. Colorado really was
- Jamie with no shirt on mmmmmmm
- Jamie and Bones are obviously homies and I love it
- Yes I cried over the family video again
- TYLER PAUL that cardigan outfit, goddamn
- Why did Rads shove his nose into his visor when putting on his helmet???¿¿¿
- Mmmm Jamie in Captain mode yes please
- Hahaha Klinger and those teeth
- Golf Ty. Yes
- Big Rig with the backwards hat. Wwidpxoclkdmrkesospslskxokrnmwqlal
- JORDAN SPIETH
- DAK PRESCOTT
- TONY ROMO
- I love sports
- I miss hockey
- Fuck
- RICKIE FOWLER
- TROY AIKMAN
- DIRK NOWITZKI
- Athletes are the best
- Fuck you Vegas
- Except you, Flower
- Come back to Pittsburgh
- Lololol Jamie’s dance in his stall
- I love Rads for trying to keep his shit together and not get too excited
- Jamie did you use progressively more gel throughout the playoffs
- You can tell me the truth
- Fuck I wish they would’ve won for Pavs and Per
- Ugh
- Klinger: “you fucking loser, who the fuck are you”
- Rads after they won the WCF 🥺
- KLINGER after they won the WCF!!!
- Tyler’s arms when he’s hugging Bones hot daaaaamn
- These golfing idiots
- Pavs with the eagle? Damn baby
- Jamie and Tyler smashing each other on their VR helmets like little children
- “Have you seen the Matrix? Don’t mess with virtual reality” - Big Rig (Big Baby)
- Tyler talking about camera pressure and then dropping for push ups the next time he’s up to bowl as if he does not THRIVE in the spotlight
- Fuck the Tampa Bay Lightning
- All my homies hate the Tampa Bay Lightning
- Dobby on the cart oh my god I’m DYING
- Pavs’ ASSSSSSSSS holy god
- They look so visibly tired
- Oh okay that shot of Ty on the bench. I’m dead, goodbye
- Joel 🥺 you’re so pure
- Bish looks like a mess but I love him
- Uh oh the music changed
- Here we go
- Still amazed by Stammer’s goal, won’t even lie
- All I need is Jamie and Tyler in golf shirts
- And I guess also for them to win a Cup
- Ugh watching Segs smash his stick still makes me ill
- Daddy Pavs
- Scorey Perry, you motherfucker
- Ugh
- Why did I watch this again
- Nope
- Bones crying?
- Nope
- Tyler crying?
- Nope
- Jamie’s presser. Nope. I wanna save him
- Also I can see Jamie’s KT heart tattoo from this angle and I am SO NOT OKAY
- NOT THE LOCKER ROOM SHOT
- I love them
- OH NO
- I’m crying at this ending. They’re so cute
- They’re so weird
- But so cute
- WOW
- What a ride
Tagging @kerwritesthings with gratitude bc she warned me about everything I needed to know before watching, without spoiling anything ❤️ you the real MVP
#that is all#we’re not going home#dallas stars#stars lb#stars hockey#tyler seguin#jamie benn#alexander radulov#corey perry#joe pavelski#jason dickinson#anton khudobin#dobby#rick bowness#nhl hockey#nhl#ben bishop#joel hanley#jamie oleksiak#big rig
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A little thing based off this by @xmafiacatx! It gets a little bloody, so do be warned.
Fuze could hardly see, the dim lights further muddled by the tint of his visor on his helmet. His shoulder was bleeding, grazed by countless bullets that his gear had shielded him from the worst of. A simple mission of clearing out the abandoned offices should have been simple for him, cluster charges given full reign to cause as much damage as possible without endangering innocent lives. The same couldn’t be said for the building, but better destruction of things that could be rebuilt in the end over lives that could never be put back together.
Fuze had made a mistake. He didn’t particularly enjoy admitting it, but the bullets flying past him and keeping him in place were clear indications of that. If he tried to get up and run, or even fire back, he’d be an easy target. He had to find a way out of this, and quickly, before he got overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of his enemy.
He took the break in gunfire as his moment to fire back, AK-12 familiar in his hands and taking down several targets before he had to duck behind the cover he had put together. The situation was getting a bit more manageable, he just had to be patient. He made sure his knife was at the ready when he swore he heard footsteps getting closer, sound masked by the gunfire.
Another break in the suppressing fire allowed him to stand and take down more targets, down to at least a more reasonable number of terrorists to kill before he was out of the worst of this situation. The sudden creak of wood underfoot caught his attention; he hadn’t moved. He spun around to meet the aggressor, knife drawn and aiming for the jugular vein. He felt the stab in his arm, making sure to drive the knife deeper until the flow of blood coated the floor and every nearby surface. The body fell limply to the ground, giving Fuze the opportunity to see what he had been stabbed with. The syringe was quickly rolling away in the pool of blood. Has to be tranquilizer.
No, no no no no-
He couldn't pass out now. The gunfire entirely ceased but he knew they were waiting like vultures, just beyond his reach. He had to fight back the surge of panic. Stay focused. He shook his head harshly, trying to shake the blurriness from his vision. Whatever it was, it was acting quickly and he didn't have time-
Fuze barely registered that he stumbled to the ground. He kept his hold on his gun, determined to at least fight back if they got overconfident. There was at least three different sets of footsteps inching closer, undoubtedly aware of what their lone member had died to achieve. It was a disgusting sacrifice that the White Masks made all too often.
When he saw the leg of a terrorist walk around the corner, he didn't hesitate in lifting his gun and firing. If he could simply kill the rest of them, passing out wouldn't be that much of a concern. He could at least be sure in knowing that his team would grow concerned and find him, there was no telling what would happen if there was a terrorist alive when he passed out. The sudden shout cut short from the terrorist was enough of an alert for the others still alive. He felt the strike on his shoulder from behind, turning around to try and pierce his own knife into the terrorist's neck.
Another strike across his side made him stumble backwards, looking down to realize he was bleeding and that the strikes were stabs from the terrorist’s own knife. His vision was getting more and more spotty, combining pain with panic as he finally slipped from consciousness.
The harsh scent of burnt metal awoke him. His arms were tied behind his back, shoulder wound no longer bleeding but still in pain as his arm bent further than he would've liked. Fuze instantly knew his protective gear had been taken from him, leaving only his basic clothes and his helmet. He preferred it that way, not wanting his captors to clearly see his eyes. He was forced onto his knees, skin and fabric torn away as he was undoubtedly dragged with little regard. There was no outside light in the small, damp cell, but he couldn't really be surprised.
There was blood spattered across his visor, not able to remember when that even happened. He was familiar with pain by now, biting his lip to stifle any sound of pain. The person in the room with him had clearly been waiting patiently, and didn't want to give that any satisfaction.
“Rise and shine, asshat.”
The voice was alarmingly feminine, but distinctly annoyed.
“Easy, V. We just got started.”
Another voice, this time deeper and more masculine. He was clearly the patient one of the two he heard.
“Yea, and I don't plan on wasting time with this. We got pulled away from our-need I remind you, Jay- very important project for this waste of space. We should just kill him and save ourselves the trouble.”
“Ever so impatient, V. This won't be a waste of time. Consider it a well needed break from that project. We don't get much done besides destruction when you get frustrated.”
Fuze was starting to get annoyed. These people were more than willing to bicker in front of him, uncaring if he heard. Even going so far as to use their names, they had to be confident that by the end of this, what he knew wouldn't at all matter. They would likely kill him regardless.
“You know what? Fine, this is a break from work. But if you-" she paused, grabbing the collar of Fuze’s shirt, “-don't cooperate, you're gonna have bigger fucking problems.”
She let go and stepped back, Fuze keeping his head down but moving his eyes to watch them. Their masks were different, half white and half red with the sides alternating with each other. The left side of V’s mask was the same color as the right side of Jay’s, ake vice versa. Jay sighed, crossing his arms and turning to look at Fuze.
“Don’t worry too much. This can go very simply if you work with us.”
Hell would sooner freeze.
He refused to speak, staying silent until he felt a hand under his chin to lift his head.
“I don’t recommend defiance.”
He kept quiet, narrowing his eyes at the man. V was leaning against the wall, arms crossed and clearly annoyed.
“Quit being nice and fucking electrocute him already, you damn electromaniac.”
“Patience, V.”
“For what? Rainbow shouldn't get mercy, they should be put down like the mutts they are.”
Fuze felt heat rise to his face. He hated not being able to fight back, to make her eat her own words and die with the knowledge that she was horribly outclassed.
“Since my dear twin here is getting irritated, I'll speed this process up. Tell me where the base you operate from is.”
“Go to hell.”
“Look at that! He does have vocal chords.”
“V, I'd hate to have to ask you to wait outside.”
“Like you really would. You enjoy having an audience way too much.”
Jay laughed quietly, Fuze able to feel his gaze shift back to him.
“So, no cooperation then?”
“Are you deaf? Go. To. Hell.”
It was V’s turn to laugh, pushing herself off of the wall.
“I'll go get your favorite toys, because I'm such a considerate, dear sister.”
She left the room quickly, leaving Fuze alone with Jay.
“Truly, she’s quite lovely when she isn’t upset. Best family I could ask for.”
Fuze hated them. He wanted nothing more than to tear the ropes apart and close his hands around Jay’s throat. He wanted to kill them both, make sure they never opened their mouths again. The door opened again, Fuze slowly looking over to see her bring in what he guessed was an electric cattle prod.
“And you brought my most favorite. Such a sweetheart, V.”
“Only the best.”
She pat his shoulder, taking position again against the wall to watch.
“A customized cattle prod, capable of extremely high voltages that are excruciatingly painful for human limitations.”
The device was turned on, crackling electricity audible before he felt it jab at his injured side. He couldn’t bite back the screams of agony or stop himself from convulsing with the shocks. He wasn’t sure how long it lasted, taking strained breaths when it finally stopped.
“Tell us where your base is, and this will stop.”
He was breathing hard, pain becoming almost unbearable. Almost.
“Go fuck yourself.”
The prod was pressed into his side again, making him scream and jerk away. V watched intently, waiting for Jay to stop before speaking.
“Fucking bastard! Can’t we just shoot him?”
“No, not yet. Don’t worry, it will take some time for anyone to get to us, even with the very best after us. We have time.”
Fuze bit his lip and braced for another shock, closing his eyes tightly.
Twitch was tired and worried out of her mind, but there was no way she could stop now. Fuze had been MIA for a day now, and it was far too unlike him to simply disappear without a trace. She and Valkyrie had made slow progress, only getting an area of where he was and no real idea of what to expect. Valkyrie had recognized the area as an abandoned theme park, eroded away and repurposed now as a fairly large terrorist base. They had to narrow down where he was, and make sure the team that went in avoided certain death that would await if they simply rushed in.
That didn’t factor in the guilt she felt for keeping it secret from the others. It was a delicate situation, and while she cared intensely, there was no way she was going to put others at risk too. She dreaded the reactions of some of the others if they found out, especially Maverick and the other Spetsnaz. They would be beyond pissed off, she knew.
“Do we have a better idea of how many there are yet?”
Twitch looked over to Valkyrie, who seemed just as tired as she was.
“No, they know where the cameras are and shot out inside cams. I have no way of knowing how many are in there, or even if they’ve rigged the whole place to blow up the moment we step inside.”
Twitch sighed, rubbing her hands through her hair.
“They have to know we're onto them, then, and are buying themselves more time. Still, we can't risk more lives if it's all a trap.”
Valkyrie sat back in the chair.
“We’re starting to not have much of a choice. We've been at this since last night, and it’s nearly been a full day since I've even seen my bed.”
“I know, I just hate the idea of walking blindly into a trap.”
Twitch let out a sigh.
“I'll see if Ying or Lesion know anything about it, maybe their home CTU is aware of it and has something they haven't shared.”
Valkyrie nodded, leaning back in the chair.
“Sounds good to me. I'll see if I can get something new while we wait.”
Twitch nodded once and turned to the door, heart leaping to her throat when she heard footsteps. She swung the door open quickly, seeing Maverick turn around a corner.
“Merde, Erik! Wait!”
Valkyrie turned her attention around when Twitch sprinted down the hall, not able to speak before she was long gone.
“Erik, just listen to me-"
“A full fucking day, and neither of you told anybody. You're happy to sit on your fucking asses for a full fucking day?!”
He paused to glare at her, unbridled fury in his eyes.
“Erik, just listen, we can't rush in without any knowledge- hey!”
She grabbed his arm as he turned to walk off, yelping when his fist connected with her nose.
“Don't put your hands on me! Do you have any fucking idea what they could be doing to him while we're sitting here doing nothing?! I'm going to get our fucking teammate back.”
He left her standing in the hallway, delicately holding her bleeding nose. She knew better than to try pursuing him again, instead pulling out her phone.
“Evening Manu, is-"
“Gilles, I need you to stop Erik from doing something ridiculously dangerous. I'm worried he's going to go on a suicide mission by himself.”
“I'm on my way over now, I'll make sure he doesn't.”
“Merci.”
She hung up quickly after that, heading to the infirmary. She could take care of herself with what Doc kept well maintained in the cabinets. She turned down the hall and bumped straight into Lion, walking far too fast to realize he was there in time. Lion was one of the last people she wanted to see right now, knowing how confrontational he could be.
His hands immediately went to lift her face after he spotted blood on his own clothes and get a better look at Twitch.
“Manu, who hit you?”
“Olivier, it's alright, you don't-"
“I don't need to but I will. Who was it?”
Twitch shook her head.
“Please, Olivier, not now.”
He could see tears threatening her eyes, nodding and gently grabbing her hand to head to the infirmary. Doc couldn't yell at him for going through supplies if it was for Twitch's sake.
“Will you tell me what's wrong?”
He handed the tissues over to Twitch, letting her hold them up to her nose to wipe blood away.
“Fuze got captured. Valkyrie and I have been trying to find him and the best way to get him out without sending anyone into their death, and…”
She shook her head, taking a deep breath.
“I'm so exhausted and being told that I've been sitting and doing nothing just… hurts.”
Lion nodded quietly, then grabbed an ice pack from the small cooler.
“That's not your fault Manu. You've been trying your hardest, like you always do. We'll get him back safe and sound, don't worry. I'll make sure of it.”
She nodded meekly, wiping her eyes and staying quiet. He gently pulled her close in a hug, rubbing her back.
“It'll be okay. I promise, it will. Take care of yourself, I’ll handle it.”
He gently kissed her forehead, reluctant to leave her alone but far more determined to ease the source of her stress. He didn’t necessarily like Fuze personally, but he was still a teammate and Rainbow always stuck together. He took one last glance at her before walking out, heading to the room where he knew Twitch tended to be when working on intel gathering.
“Emma, you get anything from Ying or Le-Oh. You’re not Emma.”
Valkyrie blinked, staring tiredly at Lion. He shook his head.
“No, I’m not. What do you have so far?”
“Please don’t tell me you’re thinking of just heading out alone to do this.”
“Not alone, no. But we cannot wait longer. We’ll have to take the risk.”
Valkyrie nodded, getting out of the chair.
“Plenty of hostiles inside, I don’t know how many exactly, but there’s a lot we don’t know. I’d take IQ, Montagne, Zofia, and have Doc on standby. I’d also bring Blackbeard, he won’t quit with someone on the line like that.”
Lion quietly listened, already planning out who he would want to bring along.
“Merci, we’ll head out with that team, then.”
“Good luck out there, I’ll be here if you need me.”
He walked out without another moment of hesitation. Valkyrie would take the news to Six and the other operators, that they were going now and couldn’t wait. When he got to the landing zone for base helicopters, he was surprised to see Montagne already there, holding Maverick in a bear hug.
“Put me down, god damn it!”
“Erik, please calm down!”
“Not while one of our own is getting tortured! I’m not letting that happen for any longer, put me FUCKING DOWN!”
It was almost like watching a rebellious child being physically carried away from a toy they wanted, kicking and screaming. Part of Lion understood it entirely, sheer rage clouding clarity and bringing personal feelings to the forefront of decision making. The other part of him knew how dangerous that was in itself.
“Maverick, please, just list-”
Montagne was cut off when the back of Maverick’s head collided with his forehead, yet his grip stayed firm. Maverick was only slightly shorter than Montagne, making the effort of holding him still a struggle.
“Olivier, could you-” Maverick’s struggling interrupted him, starting to seem more like a frenzied animal, “-could you get Seamus? And possibly Alexan-Mon Dieu, Erik!”
Lion didn’t need to stick around to do as his friend asked, knowing that Maverick wouldn’t rest. Sledge and Tachanka were easy to find, and didn’t need much convincing to run to the landing pad and take the still trashing Maverick off Montagne’s hands. It was a struggle for the two of them to hold him back, pulling him away as Zofia, IQ, Blackbeard, and Doc made their way over. Zofia unsurprisingly took charge, moving towards the helicopter.
“Let’s go. No more delaying.”
The others didn’t hesitate at the command. Zofia was a very adaptable operator, capable of changing plans in an instant and handling near anything that came her way. Doc sat across from Lion, arms crossed.
“I imagine you might know why the supplies in the infirmary have been thrown around? And more importantly, why Emmanuelle had a bleeding nose when I walked in?”
Montagne’s attention snapped from Doc to Lion.
“Is she okay?”
“She refused to tell me exactly what was wrong. She’s stressed over this situation.”
Doc nodded, attention being grabbed when Montagne spoke up.
“She called me asking me to prevent Erik from doing something reckless. You don’t imagine…?”
Lion muttered curses under his breath, already planning on the conversation he’d have with Maverick later. For now, his attention needed to be on the mission. It would be a relatively long flight, and they had to be ready to move quickly when they finally got there. The waiting was the worst part.
Zofia had already decided on a plan, and there was hardly any swaying her from it. IQ would check constantly for explosives and stay close to Blackbeard, while she, Montagne, Lion, and Doc would stick together and press forward. IQ and Blackbeard could take spot and take care of other threats trying to surprise them.
IQ’s scanner was up even before they touched the ground, detecting the maze of mines hidden under the ground. She carefully stepped off the helicopter, scanning around as Montagne moved to cover her if anyone from the theme park was aiming at them.
“There are a lot of them. Step carefully.”
They moved behind Montagne with IQ’s guidance, Blackbeard keeping his attention on the building to make sure no hostiles inside took shots at them with no returning fire. The entrance of the building was boarded up, normal doors torn down.
“When we’re inside, we go back to our plan.”
Zofia quickly looked to the others, then to the door as she shouldered the KS79 Lifeline and blasted the barricade apart with an impact grenade. Montagne’s shield took the brunt of the gunfire, allowing Blackbeard to easily take them down with the rifle shield protecting his face and Le Roc protecting his body.
“We’re moving quickly, but not recklessly. We’ll check downstairs first, since Valkyrie wasn’t able to get anything from his gear, it has to be below ground somewhere.”
Lion was content to nod and follow orders, trusting Zofia’s judgement and calls. The woman hardly ever went wrong, and fought tooth and nail to make things right if they did. Blackbeard and IQ stayed close by, checking around the area and covering their flanks. Their movement was agonizingly slow, nitro and explosives nearly everywhere and forcing them to take their time. Lion despised it, also able to tell how irritated Doc was getting as his concern for their captured teammate instilled a special urgency that wouldn’t stop until they were back at base.
The stairs down were coated in dried blood. It was a morbid sign they were on the right track, but Lion would take it regardless.
“Bottom of the stairs, tripwire explosives on either side.”
IQ and Blackbeard were above them, taking the opportunity to clear out the ground floor of hostile targets and still scan for threats from a floor above. Doc shot the explosives, following down the steps. Even in the flickering lights, Lion could see the blood trail across the tiles. The surroundings were messy, things strewn about as if they had been searched for.
“They wanted to make us waste time, so they could leave.”
Zofia simply nodded at Doc’s realization, eyes following the trail to a barricaded doorway. The impact grenade from her launcher revealed the other room, beeping with idle nitro cells. The trail led to the end of the room, behind a sturdier door.
“Those cells are close enough to get caught in the same blast and be destroyed with only a few explosions. I can set them off safely.”
Montagne rarely differed, putting himself in harm's way so others didn't have to. Lion took his pistol out of the holster and started taking out the further cells.
“For ones closer, I agree. But we can take out plenty of them now.”
All of the visible explosives were now gone, leaving Montagne to walk towards the incessant beeping and let the nitro cells detonate harmlessly against the shield.
“That hall is all clear.”
IQ’s voice called out over the radio, Doc taking the opportunity to move up to the door.
“We need to get this door open.”
Zofia set up the breaching charge on the door, planning to at least blast the hinges and get inside one way or another. They backed up to let the charge explode, hinges coming loose and letting the door fall backwards.
Fuze had heard the explosions, even with the overwhelming fogginess clouding around his mind. The White Masks had left the room awhile ago, for some reason he didn't know. He was in pain and far too weak to keep himself upright, arms still tied behind his back as he lay on his right side. The floor was damp-he couldn't tell if it was water or blood or both-and overall miserable.
He couldn't even keep his eyes open, the pain in his stomach from hunger and in his throat from thirst familiar now. He wasn't sure if he preferred that over the pain of electric shocks. The loud bang of the door hitting the ground was out of place; White Masks held the key. Didn't they? He couldn't make a sound as he felt the gentle touch against his neck, checking for his pulse, but he couldn't help the attempt to shy away from it. A futile attempt, but he still tried.
He heard a voice but he couldn't tell what they were saying or even clearly tell who it was. It's familiar. Familiarity didn’t matter; he wanted their hands off of him. He couldn’t struggle with his arms behind his back as the person’s hands moved from their neck to the open wound on his side. The pressure hurt, forcing a soft, strained cry from him. He could feel his own weakness, could understand why it was so difficult to get his body to respond to anything he tried to do, and he hated it. Being entirely at someone else’s mercy only drilled the fact harder into his mind.
He was at least relieved when he felt the ties around his wrists get cut loose. The relief was soon overtaken by the fierce feeling of distress when he was lifted over someone’s shoulders. Their grip on him was much stronger than any of his weak attempts to get free, spotty vision making it hard to see who it even was. It had to be Rainbow, the sound of metal moving was a sound he was used to hearing from Montagne’s shield.
Blackbeard didn’t have to be an expert to know Fuze was in bad shape. Doc was rightfully worried, and stressed the importance of getting back to base as soon as possible. He was more than capable of carrying Fuze, and was more than happy to help get him back home. It was a fast trip back to the helicopter, he and IQ had confirmed the rest of the building was devoid of any opfor. Doc didn’t wait to start cleaning the bloodied injuries, despite Fuze’s struggles and quiet protests. It was almost a relief when Blackbeard watched him finally pass out; at least he wouldn’t be conscious for the pain of tending to every wound. Blackbeard knew Doc well enough to know the man wouldn’t rest himself until he was sure Fuze would be alright.
Fuze slowly opened his eyes, struggling to adjust to the bright lights shining above him. It didn’t take him long to realize he was in the infirmary, beeps marking his heat rate. He tried sitting up, only gaining Doc’s attention and being gently stopped.
“Don’t stress yourself. You came very close to dying.”
Fuze let himself relax, body aching with the dull awareness of the pain he had felt. He watched Doc look over the various instruments around the bed, preferring to stay quiet. What was there to even say? His stomach growled, prompting Doc to hand him a plate of food.
“Slowly, so you don’t throw up what you just ate.”
“I know.”
He didn’t like being babied, even if Doc only meant well. He knew how to take care of himself, had dealt with his fair share of pain and agony in his life and this was hardly going to be the last time. Doc took a deep breath, putting a pill bottle on the bedside stand.
“If your pain gets worse, take two of those no more than every four hours.”
Fuze nodded again, watching Doc leave. His phone was on the stand beside the bottle, and he couldn’t help the curiosity of checking it. He had a mountain of messages, every one of them concerned questions about how he was doing.
At least I have time.
#Rainbow Six Siege#r6s Fuze#r6s Lion#r6s Doc#r6s Montagne#r6s Twitch#r6s Valkyrie#r6s Maverick#others too but im lazy#blood#torture#my writing
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RvB: A Red Team Celebration
@redvsbluesecretsanta
Merry Christmas, @mercuryblacksleg! Hope you like your Secret Santa gift!
Summary: Red Team doesn’t exactly do holidays traditionally, or tastefully, but they never fail in their enthusiasm. Featuring Lopez the Christmas tree, lights on a Warthog, and a thirty-foot menorah made out of flamethrowers. Gen fluff. Light Grimmons, light sarge/grey.
“Uh. Excuse me, but what the fuck.”
Donut looked up from where he was stringing popcorn onto a needle to see Grif and Simmons staring from the doorway.
“What?” Donut said serenely, threading another piece of popcorn before holding up the string to eyeball it. “It’s traditional. Here, Lopez, hold this for me?”
”No.”
Donut sighed, sticking the end to Lopez’s head with a piece of tape instead, just below the star. “Hmm. Now I know size doesn’t matter, but this could really use a few more inches.”
Grif was still staring, but now his hand was creeping towards the popcorn bowl, so Donut had to smack him away. “Honestly, Grif, I know you love choking it down, but you can walk to the kitchen. I’m using that.”
Simmons, his head poking through the door from behind Grif, blinked. “Is—what happens when he walks away?”
“He won’t. After Sarge got done with him, it turns out he won’t be able to walk for days!”
Lopez rotated his head, disturbing the tinsel around his neck and sending a few pieces scattering on the floor. The ornaments Donut had taped on a few minutes ago jingled, but didn’t fall off. ”Help me. Please.”
“Oh, Lopez, don’t be ridiculous. We can’t add the lights yet. Sarge hasn’t finished painting them all red!”
Grif came back from the kitchen, holding popcorn. “Okay. I’m probably going to regret this, but one question: why.”
“I told you. It’s traditional.”
Simmons made a face. “No, trees are traditional. This—I don’t know what this is, I think it might be cruelty to robots.”
”Thank you.”
“Not that it really matters, since Lopez doesn’t care.”
“I will pour motor oil on the things you love.”
“Do you see any trees around here?” Donut waved one hand to indicate the room, as well as the general idea of ‘island in the middle of nowhere.’ “And aw, Lopez, that’s sweet!”
“What is?”
“He said he loves us.”
Simmons pulled off a dubious expression very well. Half of his face being metal really helped.
“Huh.” Grif stuffed a handful of popcorn in his mouth, looking thoughtful. “Got any more of those lights?” He moved the bowl out of Simmons’ reach before he could grab some.
“Sarge took all of ours, but I think Blue Team still has some from that whole Caboose debacle.”
“Cool. See you later.” Grif took the bowl of popcorn with him.
Donut went back to stringing on popcorn, humming Christmas music. That didn’t mean he missed Simmons’ hand sneaking towards the bowl.
“Ow! Donut!”
“Oh, stop whining. It wasn’t even anywhere tender.”
Carolina hadn’t really stopped for the holidays in a long time, before Chorus. There was always somewhere to be, things to do, people to hunt down, information to find, training. Always something.
And then she had stumbled into a corner of Armonia where someone had carefully framed a computer chip on the wall, a piece of masking tape stuck onto it reading “ תוֹרָה.” On the table beneath it had been a single lamp, powered by a jury-rigged battery.
Carolina remembered standing at the doorway of that little room for a long, long time.
Now she was standing at the doorway of the base, and had been for a long time, but for a very different reason.
“Sarge,” she said, finally. “That...I appreciate the offer, but I don’t--it doesn’t need to be that much fire.”
Sarge looked up from where he was using a sledgehammer and stakes to make sure the last flamethrower was secured completely to the welded-together scrap metal. Carolina could barely see him in the gathering dark. “What?”
Carolina sighed, and took a deep breath to raise her voice. “It doesn’t need that much fire!”
“WHAT?”
Carolina cupped her hands around her mouth. “IT--DOESN’T--NEED--” She stopped shouting and looked again.
Sarge was working on the last of nine upright, oversized flamethrowers he and Simmons had spent most of the day modifying after she had asked--naïvely--if the base had any candles laying around, because she wanted to put together a menorah. The answer had been no. Or, more accurately, the answer had been no, and then Sarge getting a very worrying glint in his eye.
And now there was a giant menorah of scrap metal and flamethrowers put together on the lawn in front of Red Base. She could just barely see where Simmons was hanging onto the far left one, hitting it with a wrench.
It was ridiculous. It was probably going to blow up in a few hours.
And it was...actually kind of sweet.
“YOU KNOW WHAT? NEVER MIND.”
Grif came up behind her, munching on something. “Has anything blown up yet?”
“Surprisingly, no.” Carolina tipped her head to the side, watching as Simmons almost fell off. He and Sarge shouted at each other for a few more minutes before Sarge climbed down.
“HEY!” Simmons squawked. “I’M STILL--NO NONONONONON--”
Simmons did fall off this time, as Sarge started cackling maniacally, and ended up rolling onto the ground. Carolina could admit that at least all the Reds and Blues knew how to fall properly.
“I’m okay!”
“Nerd,” Grif mumbled, around a mouthful of something. “Oh, hey. Here.”
Carolina looked down to see him offering an unopened bag of potato chips. “What’s this for?”
“Simmons said you eat fried potato things. Right?” He sounded a little bit uncertain.
Carolina took the bag of chips, trying not to laugh. “Thank, Grif. It means a lot.”
“HEY! ARE WE GONNA LIGHT THIS THING OR WHAT?”
“Wait! I’m getting the cookies!” Donut rushed past with a dish of cookies that Carolina was reasonably sure--when she squinted--were frosted dreidels.
Well then.
Grif gestured with his own bag of chips. “After you.”
The remote starter Sarge had put together worked perfectly, so after Carolina had stumbled her way through the songs she could just barely remember, the buttons were pushed so first the center, then the far left spout went up in flames.
Donut clapped excitedly. Grif swiped a cookie. Sarge cackled.
“Wait,” Carolina said, as realization hit her. “Where’s Lopez?”
“I hate all of you.”
Dr. Grey made a thoughtful sound as she examined the setup. “Is that…comfortable?”
“No. This entire situation is despicable. If I had a nervous system, I would be ready to rip it out just to end the suffering.”
“Lopez says he’s snug as a bug in a rug, Dr. Grey!”
“If you’re sure,” she said, already moving on. “Ooh, Donut, those look lovely.”
“My aunt Agatha’s own recipe,” he replied, cheerfully. “And let me say again just how glad we are to have you here for the holidays, Dr. Grey.”
“Oh, just call me Emily. After all, I’m not here to patch you up!”
“Well I’d be happy to take a checkup from you anytime.”
Grif had already absconded with a plate of cookies to sit by the TV, where Simmons was arguing holiday movie selections with Caboose. No one was sure why Caboose was there. No one really knew how to get rid of him.
“No—Caboose, we’re not going to watch Love Actually. It doesn’t even count as a Christmas movie.”
“Yes it does. It is snowing. So it is Christmas.”
Carolina, from where she was watching the whole thing, snorted into her cocoa.
“It’s not—Grif, back me up here.”
“Hey, I said we should watch Die Hard.”
Simmons sputtered. “That’s even less of a Christmas movie.”
“Ooh! Stranger Things!”
“No!” Simmons put his head in his hands. “Look. Can’t we all agree on one terrible stop-motion animation Christmas special?”
“That shit is nightmare fuel,” Grif complained.
“We’ve almost died like, ten times in the past year, and that’s what you’re calling nightmare fuel?”
“Well, yeah.”
“I do not want the little elf to pull my teeth,” Caboose said seriously.
“I hate all of you,” Simmons said, flatly. “I mean it this time. I really do.”
Grif shrugged and ate another cookie.
The door to the base slammed open, heralding Sarge’s entrance. “Treason! Disaster! Subterfuge!”
The room looked up at him.
“Those filthy blues have covered our warthog—the great and mighty transportation of the Red Army—in lights! Of the worst color—blue!”
Grif quietly collected the plate of cookies and tried to sneak towards the door.
“Private Grif! What kind of desertion are you trying to pull?”
“Desertion?” Grif said, tone innocent as he could manage. “No desertion. Just going to investigate. Sir.”
“Hmph.” Sarge looked like he wanted to argue, but Grif figured the combined opportunity to get rid of him, plus the idea of figuring out what was going on, was too good to pass up. “Well. I suppose even you have to be useful sometimes, Private Grif. On accident. Barely.”
Grif rolled his eyes and grabbed another couple of cookies off of Donut’s tray before vanishing out the door.
It was quiet and dark out—aside from the five lit flamethrowers on the menorah. Carolina had pointed out that they only needed to burn for half an hour, but when they had all stared at her, she had added, “…but they can always go for longer, I guess.”
Grif took his cookies well away from the giant columns of fire, heading for the Warthog covered in Christmas lights.
He hadn’t been the one who changed them all to blue. He would have done it, if he’d thought of it, but he hadn’t. So sue him.
Point was, Grif hadn’t done it. And the only one who’d been out here since they’d gone inside after lighting up the menorah had been Sarge. So either it was the Blues pulling a prank—which, Tucker and Wash were alone in their base with Caboose gone, so Grif would bet they were busy—or someone else.
Grif was betting on the someone else.
He put the plate of cookies on part of the frame while he climbed up into the back, legs dangling off the edge. His heels kicked, almost absent-mindedly, and Grif pulled a gingerbread cookie off the plate to bite the limbs off while he watched the dark.
It was almost easier watching for this without a helmet. Seeing the world through a visor, you got used to distortion, little ripples flickering around everything. It was harder to pick out what didn’t belong.
Bare-eyed, he could see the soft flicker of camouflaged armor moving towards the Warthog.
There were a few loud creaks, and the Warthog shifted as weight pressed on one side of its frame, but the air next to Grif still looked pretty empty.
“Dude,” Grif said, rolling his eyes. “I don’t care what kind of superpowers you’ve got. If you want one of these, you’re gonna have to take the helmet off.”
There was a long pause, and then Locus’ familiar armor shimmered into view, and his hands reached up to pull off his helmet.
You look like shit, Grif kind of wanted to say, but he didn’t, because he knew that feeling. So instead, he grabbed another couple of cookies and shoved the plate over.
Locus took one, hesitantly, and turned it over to examine the sprinkles.
“Blue?” Grif asked, just to fill in the silence. “Really?”
“Green seemed…too obvious.” He glanced back at the Warthog in all its twinkling glory. “Your handiwork?”
“What, you’re gonna pretend you weren’t watching?”
The silence spoke for itself. Grif snorted.
“Yeah,” he said, running one hand over the lights. “It’s something…back home. It was this whole thing, when I was a kid. People would put lights all over their cars, and on Christmas day there’d be this big parade. One giant party on the beach.” It felt weird, admitting that, even though he knew he’d said more embarrassing shit when Locus was helping him recue the guys.
Locus didn’t say anything, just chewing on the cookie.
“Look,” Grif said, finally, after the silence had gone on way too long. “Do you want to come inside? We’re gonna argue about stop motion for probably ten more minutes and then put on the Muppets Christmas Carol. There’s popcorn and shit. It’ll be fine.”
“That seems…unwise.”
Grif shrugged. He hadn’t been sure it was going to work. “Suit yourself.”
But he didn’t make any move to go anywhere for another few long minutes.
When there was a faint scream from inside the base, though, he sighed and rolled forward, landing on his feet. “Anyway. I better go back in. Offer’s open if you get cold. And keep the cookies, Donut’s been baking like a nutcase.”
Locus looked up from the single cookie with a bite out he was still playing with, and nodded.
Grif made it five steps away before he heard his name called out, and turned back around to see Locus watching him, almost sheepish.
“I…thank you.”
Grif shrugged. “No problem, dude. Merry Christmas.”
When he made it back inside, the alien and the rat puppets were already up on screen, yammering about something or other, so it seemed things were right on schedule. Lopez was in the corner, muttering death threats, so whenever Sarge reactivated his leg servos Grif was going to go on a long walkabout. Donut had settled on the couch with Caboose, Sarge and Dr. Grey were cuddled up together in a chair (ew ew ew ew ew) and Carolina was resting her feet on an old engine and working her way through another cup of cocoa.
Simmons was on the far end of the couch, so Grif detoured to grab some cookies and a blanket before flopping down at his feet, leaning back against the couch and making Simmons jump.
“Dude, chill.”
“You chill,” Simmons muttered, darkly, but didn’t flinch away again.
Cookies. Cheesy movies. Giant flamethrowers and lurking reformed bad guy outside. Blanket and Simmons to lean against.
Not a bad setup, all things considered.
Grif gave it ten minutes before asking, “So, Die Hard?”
Simmons’ hand, where it had been creeping into Grif’s hair, yanked away to bring a pillow thumping down on his head.
#hope this fits what you asked for!#might've forgotten about doc until i was almost done and then gone 'whatever'#Red vs Blue#rvb fanfic#rvbsecretsanta17#this was fun#internet blew out for most of the day sorry it's kinda late#sroloc writes stuff#red vs blue fanfic#red vs blue fanfiction
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