sometime this coming week i’ll be tossing my new theme + rules up. i might also be going by a different name just because having my rl one out there is a little iffy ( idk i’m havin’ a moment ). LIKE if you know my rl name idc i’d just rather not have it pasted on my blog-- it’ll be like fancy dlc to unlock lmao.
also new tags + a tl;dr version of what’s been going on with patchy here--- like an actual bio that’ll be super watered-down.
EDIT; new rules in place. new theme in place. name updated.
there’s a terrible ache in her chest as he brings up her mother. he’s right, of course, after so many missed holidays and broken promises, rosanne would be overjoyed to see her. the guilt reflects in her expression, barely able to muster a puff of a laugh at his teasing.
and then he asks the question that no one’s posed before.
an offering to hear her out, to listen to her troubles.
initially it’s enough to make sheila’s head swim and her stomach lurch. heartbeat is audible over the sudden ringing in her ears as her heart rate spikes violently, colour draining from her face in an instant. for a moment she feels like she’s drowning and falling all at once.
but through the sudden panic, she manages to meet his face.
it’s patch.
she can trust patch.
gaze shifts again as she stares down at her hands, now laced together with knuckles blanching white from the tightness in her grip.
you can trust patch.
“ i… i think i might have mentioned that i was avoiding something, but– ” she swallows now, willing the lump in her throat to settle. it takes a moment for sheila to build up the will to continue, voice now softer and smaller than before.
Keep reading
ah.
he really, truly is being such a massive ‘ head empty. no thoughts ‘ sort of motherfucker, isn’t he ?
patch originally thought he was being a little FUNNY. nudging and pushing buttons to see if she’d spill the beans, or would just relent and agree to take a short vacation. if sheila was the only one who could go home, he’d want her to do so and enjoy herself at the same time.
instead though, he’d pushed a little too hard.
crossed the line he always loved to toe.
instead of tipping beans out, one by one, he’d all but shoved the container over, causing the damn things to cascade over the rim.
the physical reaction alerts him, his precious weapon being tossed to the ground with a clatter as he steps a bit closer, arms shifting out to catch her should the pyro’s knees give out. the steady thumping of her heart, easily detected ( and monitored ) by his... OTHER instincts, that all changes. the beat reminds him of a deer valiantly doing its best to run away, fleeing from the inevitable death it’ll meet at his teeth, claws or bow.
the comparison makes the sniper feel a little ill himself.
unable to help it, those same claws find themselves gripping the smaller’s shoulders, but in what is hopefully a GROUNDING manner. a supportive one. a gesture that screams ‘ i won’t let you fall ‘.
❝ oi, maybe ya should take a seat first-- ❞
but it’s too late, the dam has broken and all those feelings that she’s always held back, kept bottled up deep within, they’re flooding out. and he’s the only audience member to see it. this-- this was fine.
her voice is so. so SMALL. and despite patch’s sensitive hearing, he finds himself leaning down just to be able to listen BETTER. to drink in every precious syllable she speaks.
the moment the word ‘ hit ‘ is said, the man’s entire stature goes rigid, taut, like a bowstring pulled back far enough that it could snap. despite his body temperature being lower than the average human’s, patch is CERTAIN that his blood is boiling away within his veins. shoulders lift just enough, a low growl vibrates through his chest. he’d never had a mother and his father had never been exactly fatherly, but he’d always been taught ( through watching ) that when angry, it was never RIGHT to put your hands on your partner, no matter what they were. no matter the circumstance.
the comforting hold the sniper has on her almost turns possessive, muscles pulling her in once sheila’s voice breaches a higher volume. he practically squishes the poor woman into his chest. his hold is FIRM. impenetrable, even. why was he a sniper and not a heavy ? there was nothing lanky about him.
❝ 'm sorry. ❞
it’s all patch can muster for the moment. just for a few seconds.
❝ i shouldn’t of asked, but ‘m glad you felt safe ‘nuff t’ tell me. ❞
another pause, but this one is punctuated with the slightest of squeezes.
❝ fucker better be fuckin’ glad i didn’t know ‘fore i ditched this hellhole. ❞
the sniper’s tone is dangerously deep, laced with a growl that reverbs through him. there’s a promise there, that if patch had KNOWN, this stupid fuck would’ve been dead. and it wouldn’t of been a quick, painless death either. he’d drag it out like the sadistic bastard he is, deep down.
❝ he ain’t gonna get’cha here, even if he showed up, i’d tear him t’ shreds ‘fore ya even KNEW. ❞
he pulls back just enough to peer at her through his shades, pupils dilated into large saucers that nearly overtake the green of his irises.
❝ yer a grown-ass woman who can make her own choices, an’ you’ve proved t’ me time an’ time again ya can defend yerself.
but ya know i wouldn’t let nothin’ bad ever happen t’ ya again. not in a million fuckin’ years. ❞
“ it’s fine, patch. you know i won’t tattle. ” warmth fills her voice and her smile at his trust in her. how long had it been that the pair had worked together, now? patch was a steady figure while she was getting accustomed to upward base, someone to confide in when things went wrong.
in a way, sheila was pleased to return the favor.
initially she doesn’t know how to react to news of his father’s passing ( he’d never talked about his family or the life he’d left behind ). sheila murmurs a ‘ jeez, i’m sorry to hear ’, though the sniper gave the impression it was a long story.
“ but yeah! consider me, uh… meals on wheels, or something. just let me know whenever you need anything. ”
the conversation shifts to home, and suddenly sheila feels her stomach sink past her boots.
“ i haven’t been back since i started working here… ” her voice comes out smaller than she’d hoped, speaking before thinking. her breath hitches at the realisation; as she recalls all the false promises made to her mother each christmas, each birthday, promises to come home to visit always falling through.
she’d tried a few times to make the long trip home, though each time she found herself staring at the airline ticket in hand she felt like she was suffocating.
sheila looks up at her friend, now realising just how bad an error she’s made.
“ b-but that’s okay! ma’s been really understanding– we talk as often as we can– ”
despite her attempts to correct herself, there’s an unmistakable sense of grief in her voice.
his shoulders roll then, tension flowing down his arms as he struggles to remind even himself that sheila was fine. she was safe. it was OKAY to share things with her. after all they’d been through, the pyro had proven time and time again that she would NEVER rat him out. a true friend, she was.
and it’d be wise for him to remember that. having one reliable person was better than having none at all.
❝ yeah yeah, i’ll pass some cash t’ ya next time i see ya, then. don’t be surprised if it’s a li’l bit uh, MUCH. as i said, i’ve been gettin’ all th’ green paper an’ i can’t spend none, hardly. we get them shitty li’l magazines t’ order stuff from but they’re so borin’ t’ read through. ain’t nothin’ cool. i ordered these clothes an’ i ‘bout ripped th’ sleeves.. guess i really am built like... like a uh.. whatever ya said.
jus’ keep whatever extra ya got. ya can use it more than me. ❞
for a moment, his signature shit-eating grin returns to his face. only it fades once she states she HAD NOT been home. not since her first day. damn, that’s rough... but he gets how it is. only the difference between the two is that sheila still has the option to do so.
his pupils dilate and shrink down into slits then, mouth pulling into a taut line. what the hell ? there’s little that he remembers of personal details about those he was once so familiar with, which is a damn shame. patch sniffs some, snaggletooth breaking the overall sternness of his expression. he’ll have to relearn what he can before he fucks up and looks like a clown.
❝ y’know, next chance ya get, ya should go. never know when they’ll deny it. or ya could go fer an old coot like me whose stuck here. would make me awfully happy, since i KNOW it’d make YOU happy. ❞
his claws tap against the handle of his bushwhacka as he contemplates what to say next, eyes having rolled up to the left.
❝ it’d probably make yer mum happy, too. ‘sides, ya can tell her all ‘bout me an’ maybe she’ll like me ‘nuff or some shit t’ wanna adopt me or send me some shit. or ya could go an’ get me some shit ya can’t get here. some of this food absolutely fuckin’ BLOWS.
i miss th’ taste’a kangaroo, as fucked as that is t’ say.
not t’ pry but... there’s a reason ya ain’t went, huh ? ❞
it’s his job to be perceptive, though moreso physically than ... whatever it was that was going on in her voice and such. he’s not always been the best at reading people, but sheila reads EASY for him. patch knows there’s something holding her back, and while she doesn’t need to explain or even answer, he’ll take that risk.
it’s hard to see him like this; the panicked realisation on the sniper’s face as he recognised that he’d said too much. despite how he attempts to brush it off, to awkwardly laugh the incident off, sheila can’t shake the sudden feeling of unease that washes through her.
“ oh– right, of course. it’s safe with me. ”
there’s a small ( albeit concerned ) smile as patch declares his future escape. she hopes for his sake that the next attempt is more successful. and for a split second, despite sheila not clinging onto the thought, there’s a sudden urge to help him, make sure that his next rush to freedom is permanent.
her brows pull together in a frown once more at the sight of his collar, adorned with scuffs and dents and an blinking light. under her breath there’s a muttered ‘ jesus christ ’, hissed at the realisation that he’s trapped here like a caged animal.
and then it hits her. he’s property. not an individual, a person. property. something belonging to team fortress industries until he’s no longer of any use.
jaw sets tight and teeth grind for just a second as sheila’s blood quietly boils.
“ well– if you ever need me to get anything for you from in town, just sing out, ” despite the momentary absence in her voice as her focus is still fixed upon the collar, it’s a sincere offer. a moment later and sheila meets his gaze again, scowl finally relaxing as the faint smile returns.
“ i’m happy to go get whatever you need, just say the word. ”
her affirmation with his secret being safe causes the taller to release such a dramatic breath that his shoulders droop enough that it looks like he’s gonna fall to the ground. patch stays standing, of course, as a ‘ shit brick house ‘ he never falls.
❝ hah, shit. i run my damn mouth so much sometimes i jus’ say shit i SHOULDN’T. figured it’d be fine t’ share with ya, seein’ as we’ve known one ‘nother so long. ❞
that, and sheila already knew his ‘ big secret ‘ anyways. where was the harm in adding another to the pile ? hopefully she could handle it.
❝ yeah though, they dragged me back kickin’ an’ screamin’. made me leave behind all my shit, too. i was pissed. by now my camp’s probably been picked clean. damn shame.
think i was up near uhhhh... halls creek ? between there an’ wyndham, methinks. could easily be wrong though, i was just guessin’ based on surroundin’s along with whatever signs i came ‘cross.
thought ‘bout tryin’a trek back home, but that’d take way too damn long. ❞
patch pulls his hood back up, but doesn’t bother adjusting his bandana. should any reds come by, he could always probably scare them off by just merely baring his teeth. the damage had been done today already so he’d coast on it for as long as he could.
❝ eh ? ❞
❝ you’d wanna make runs fer me like i’m some damn ol’ bitch, huh ? don’t think yer doin’ fer free, now. i ain’t exactly NEED much, jus’ a few things here an’ there. i’ll give ya a list or some shit tomorrow if they send us out.
uh.
i’ll also have t’ give ya cash. my old man when an’ croaked so i ain’t got anyone else t’ send money to. technically, i ain’t supposed t’ really EXIST either, so no bank account t’ tuck it into. they’ve been givin’ me cash. pricks. they know i can’t go an’ spend it. ❞
his jaw audibly snaps shut then, pinprick-shaped irises focusing on the shorter. with the suit on, it’s always hard to recognize her, though thankfully there’s that SMELL. he never understood how others could wear that shit and be comfortable. looks like a damn wearable prison.
❝ you been home ? i know they sometimes send people back fer holidays. ❞
everywhere he looks is just red, red, RED.
too many damn reds for his liking.
whatever happened to the whole ‘ better dead than red ‘ shit everyone used to spew ? times sure have changed.
“ nah, i just came around the corner and saw scout in two separate pieces. not as shocking as you’d expect, actually. ” the first time she’d seen what carnage the splice was capable of was of course jarring, a mental note made to not mess with the sniper. that had been before the pair had become close, so there was a small mercy in knowing that she was safe from being disemboweled at any given moment.
with a laugh, sheila nudges patch’s arm with her elbow. “ what, you haven’t heard of brick shit houses before? it’s like– uh… being stacked– strong, that kinda thing. ”
she’d been joking, of course, however as he reveals how close an eye the higher ups kept on him her smile quickly falls. stomach twists and churns uncomfortably and her brows knit together into a concerned frown. there’s an unsettling sense of guilt for bringing up the topic, even if it wasn’t her initial intention.
“ jesus– patch, i’m sorry… i didn’t realise things were that intense… ”
sheila hesitates, now finding herself unable to meet his gaze. instead she focuses on her entertwined hands, thumbs brushing over each other in some small attempt to quell her sudden anxiety.
“ is… is there anything i can do to help? ”
there’s a pregnant pause, the sniper’s mind halting as he REALIZES just what exactly he’d said.
ah, shit. shit, shit, SHIT.
nobody was supposed to know about all that, especially since miss pauling had given him a slight warning about how if it got out, administration would surely come running to him. just the thought is enough to make him cough a bit, an icicle of fear stabbing itself into his chest. icicle ? more like spy-cicle. maybe red’s spook had decided to change his loadout today.
the cough turns into an awkward-sounding laugh, his free hand lifting to grasp his hood and pull it down to reveal that wild mane of hair hiding beneath it. a bit too hot with the damn thing on.
❝ uh.
i wasn’t supposed t’ say anythin’ ‘bout it, actually. pretend i didn’t say shit. ❞
that was most helpful, in his eyes.
❝ i’ll play th’ ever-loyal dog fer th’ time bein’, then th’ moment i get a chance, ‘m makin’ another run fer it. but ya didn’t hear that from me, got it ? ❞
sheila wouldn’t tell. she’d always been... reliable in that way. trustworthy enough to spill secrets to.
❝ yeah though, bastards brought me back here kickin’ an’ screamin’. gave me a new fancy necklace while they was at it, too. ❞
the bandana part of his hat is yanked down far enough to reveal the tracking collar gracing his neck, a red light blinking back should the pyro bother looking. the smooth surfaces are covered with minor scratches and even a small dent, likely from attempts to get it off.
❝ i miss goin’ t’ bars an’ gettin’ plastered. also shitty bar peanuts. places where music is too loud.
wish it was halloween again when i could sneak off base without there bein’ issues. ❞
my job is rly killing me in terms of creative drive and … energy in general. my shifts have been stretching longer and longer + my coworker that DID take the pressure off likely isn’t returning for various reasons ( mostly covid + she has young children doing at-home schooling ) until who knows when.
tl;dr – i’ll be active here and there.
as if to check for herself, sheila fingers at a section of her hair and tugs it around to her nose, taking a quick whiff. he wasn’t wrong; hours of marinating in her own sweat thanks to the claustrophobic suit had left much to be desired. she seems embarrassed now as bottom lip juts out in a pout, careful to pull her hair over her opposite shoulder as though the action would hide her scent.
“ oh yeah, i caught the aftermath of all that. ” there’s a certain casualness about her comment. years of watching colleagues get blown to pieces on an almost daily basis had become desensitizing. it certainly was hardly a charming sight, but it was common enough for the pyro not to bat an eye at the display of gore.
patch makes a jab at her team, causing sheila to let out a small puff of laughter. “ i mean, say you weren’t six-foot-something and built like a brick shit house; wouldn’t you freak out? ”
as soon as she finishes her thought, sheila seems to take a moment to think before realising her error.
“ actually, i take that back– do you even feel fear? ”
with a muted grunt, the sniper allows himself to settle back against the nearby wall, primary weapon tucked away in favor of his ‘ bushwanker ‘ should some cunt decide to come and interrupt their ‘ quiet time ‘.
patch’s description had been a little harsh, dramatic even, but he doesn’t give any physical inclinations that the scent really BOTHERS him. the oversized knife is held loosely at his side, though underneath the thick sleeves of his tunic his arms are poised to move at a second’s notice.
❝ eh ? oh, probably heard yer teammates screamin’ ‘bout it, huh ? or uh, did ya ACTUALLY see that shit ? ❞
just a moment where patch had BRIEFLY ... ‘ lost it ‘. that was a kind way to word it. a second where the two instincts that screamed at him on the daily clashed, the animalistic side winning out and rearing its ( ugly ) head with a brutal display of brute strength. the blood from the incident is still spattered about his uniform, the crisp blue color dotted ( and streaked ) with crimson at random.
‘ build like a brick shit house ‘.
what’s that supposed to mean ?
green orbs flick from the pyro, to the ground, and back towards her... all paired with the subtle raise of an eyebrow, though his hat makes it difficult to spot that.
❝ dunno. i’d fight me, whether i was this tall or not... or if i was, uh, whatever ya said or not. ❞
a deep, almost-growl of a hum rolls through his chest at sheila’s question, eyes rolling about in their sockets as patch contemplates an answer. DID he feel fear ?
❝ yeah, sometimes. been feelin’ it a lot in th’ past few months, with administration breathin’ down my back. lots’a threats bein’ thrown my way, along with regulations an’ restrictions. swear, seems like any day they’re gonna come an’ grab me by th’ scruff, then take me out back. ❞
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