Scout - This dude drinks energy drinks constantly and runs so much. He smells like chemicals and sweat.
Pyro - Adam guessed this one, actually. They smell like smoke, and have that nasty ass suit, but also has a sickly sweet smell from the immense amounts of candy and smells of gasoline.
Soldier - Who knows where this guy has been. He hangs around raccoons all day and occasionally covers himself head to toe in honey. It’s such a weird and very gross mix of smells. Stinky man. Smelly and no ass.
Demo - Smells of alcohol and gunpowder. Both not good smells. Very chemically. Probably uses antibacterial stuff for his eye socket too. I love this man but I would hate how he smells.
Heavy - Man keeps a sandwich in his pocket he smells like processed lunch meats. Probably the best smelling of any of them. That is, unless you add the smells of all the food items he has. Banana, Chocolate, Sandwich, Raw Beef. A very weird and gross combination.
Engineer - Probably smells like metal and rust. Maybe oil or grease too. When Pyros burn him he smells like burnt rubber from the glove. Not that bad.
Medic - Smells like blood and whatever chemically smell the medi gun has. He also always smells a bit like birds. And bird *ahem* remnants. Not that bad but still gross.
Sniper - Pee. Also kinda musty.
Spy - Cigarette smoke. Also he’s the main target of jarate so pee as well.
So yeah these men smell!
If there’s anything I missed let me know and I’ll add it.
i never post original work so here’s ? some cqcc drabble abt one of my favourite characters that i wrote a little while ago . cws for burning and descriptions of burning, and also death and implied abuse/manipulation
the flames do not hurt. there is blood blistering red against splitting skin, bones pushed scorching through crevices that rip themselves through flesh. there is smoke, rivers of smoke, storms of smoke, a world of smoke behind eyes that long, that remember longing, the woman, the corpse, the unmoving, unstoppable being of pure nature, standing and smirking before them. and there, only there, is there hurt. not in the fire or the blood or the skin or the bone, not in the eyes or the smoke, not in the boiling of their insides, not in melting, the scouring, the heat.
there is hurt only in realising they are not loved anymore. in realising the love that defined them their whole life through had been meaningless this whole time.
do you think you’ll be familled? when all this is over? not- not just the war slender hands that breathe like wood that smell of dew that feel like oak like hope like the promise of everything they are fighting for that hold the future steady in their palms now hold avalon and there is something so real so tangible in this touch that they feel like this is the only moment they have ever existed in the only moment they will ever exist in i mean all of it. you. us. when we- when we’re dead, i suppose
the metal of their armour trickles into their skin. avalon has watched forges. avalon has watched how searing heat, unimaginable temperatures, turn silver to a stream that flows softly, elegantly, smoothly. avalon has watched how fire forges swords, how war forges men. they wonder; what is being forged here? is this history, or mythology? a celebration? a lamentation?
the hurt blazes more than any flame. will she celebrate? will she take a new mortal consort? those clammy, lifeless hands stroke scales that must be just as cold, despite the fire he thrives in, lives in, breathes. avalon drops to their knees. a fitting pair, they cough. fire and ice. dead hearts that shift to human forms. she smiles when they mention her heart. she always does.
i’ve done so much wrong, guin shaking and shaking and shaking. words that have not been spoken but have been thought as their stomach grows heavy with the weight of a world of regret come spilling from their lips and they cannot stop i have hurt so many. there isn’t enough good in me to earn me that right - i don’t think there ever was.
av.
does your heart still quiver when you hear my name, she asks. how can it not? she descends. the fire stops, but only so he can laugh. it clangs like the swords that spill from the shelves of vika rrylnn, that desecrate her home, that ridicule her students. yes, avalon hisses along with their blood as they cool. and she laughs again. oh, the lies a dying mortal tells itself to find peace, she muses.
av, there is no one braver, purer... no one more full of goodness, than you.
we both know it has been a very long time since you believed i loved you - her hands are on their cheek and that hurt is flaring through them again and they are so tired they are so exhausted if they are going to die let it be quick let them rest let them rest let them rest - and it has been equally as long since you have loved me back.
is this punishment then? for outgrowing my usefulness? for no longer being your obedient pet?
i should hate it, i think. coming back. being reborn as a weapon. a physical one. i’m a weapon now, i suppose.
you’re a hero, av.
oh, oh avalon, oh no. you think i could ever tire of the entertainment you offer me? why, even now i am laughing laughing laughing for the silly little words you speak! your life has granted me great joy, it shall continue to grant me this joy. i have never taken so much enjoyment from something so simple!
but yes, you are being punished. putting someone before me... after all the wars i Watched you for... after the destiny i prepared you for... yes, avalon. your ungratefulness, your betrayal... to think a wizard as wonderful as a god? oh, if that trembling, mortal heart could only imagine how it hurts!
her heart is dead and cold and wet and drowning drowning drowned. theirs is a muscle. theirs beats. theirs feels.
they are more than aware how it feels to be betrayed by someone they love.
you can’t come back though her hands wrap around her staff and they are so small and so delicate and should not be bloodied like this should not be dirtied should not be tainted should only be held and avalon longs to hold them but their filthy hands will only ruin her even more not like that.
he slithers. even when he has skin, he slivers, and avalon feels their flesh crawl before it burns again
i should like for us to be together. in the peace that comes after this. coming back without you sounds like- sounds like hell, frankly.
ah. well, you’re too good for hell, avalon when she smiles the stars smile and the screaming stops and there it is again that future theyre fighting for that thing theyre trying so hard to protect so that won’t happen. we’ll rest together, in this life, and the next.
mal’s grip is harsh and tight and they can’t breathe can’t scream can’t form and they are hurting and being hurt and he won’t stop he won’t stop and his bloody handprints grease the wood until it is slick and there is no polish and no enchantment and no water that can ever make them clean again and on the nights they are allowed to dream they laugh along with a boy with milk white hair and a girl with a pointed hat and golden curls who has bones that breathe with the old magics who has bones that bleed into her bones into her stance into her smile her laugh her her her.
i promise, av. i’ve followed you this far, haven’t i?
they scrub until their fingers bleed and paint and wood splinter
Future A: How advanced are you at machine building? How many have you made? What areas do you still need to improve in?
Give me an age and a question and my character will answer at the given age.
I ceased hand-producing androids and other robotic creations centuries ago, but I continue to design the number one bots for domestic, military/navy, medical, and pleasure (not only in the sexual sense, no matter what the presses might say) usage. Hound’s Howl brand is the top of the line, continuing to excel in AI and physical manifestations of machinery, though I’ll admit that our domestic-brand isn’t as good as it could be. Just last week I heard rumors that another nurse bot committed the same case of infanticide by burning, which is not acceptable. I need to find the flaw in their programming.
speaking of dead parents tho heres like. the twins vague backstory duke and i came up with.
- their parents are django and marya maximoff (they were ruska romani) just like in their new canon backstory
- django and marya had to give the twins to a ‘rich uncle’ (not related in any way but thats what they told the twins) since he offered to care for them away from poverty (possibly when they were around 5 or so)
- (rich uncle = high evolutionary) who raised the twins up to 12?? years old. and he wasnt.. the best caretaker.
- their parents found out and demanded them back. the twins were returned and back to a life of poverty (where pietro picked up thievery from his father)
- canon events such as pietro running away, wanda’s assault making him return
- their parents are killed in a fire (inside their burning wagon)
- after witnessing this the twins flee but are then sent to a foster home in america
- currently in the care of a legal guardian (vaguely erik but if we get an erik and they arent down w this it can easily be an npc)
the ages arent set in stone but?? theyre somewhat around those
“I hate this. I hate this. Is this some sick sort of revenge the Fates decided to fucking fling onto me?
‘You broke this girl. Ruined her. So fall in love with her all over again.’
I’m fucking praying Dite can do something to help but. I’m not one to get my hopes up. She hates me. Has hated me. It’s damn justified hate too. But if there’s something I can do to make up for it...
Gods. This is horrible. I need to get my head out of my ass.
She could probably tell me to light myself on fire to please her and I’d fucking do it if it was in person. This isn’t love. This is what you call pathetic.”
