Somebody Bully Me Into Drawing I Am Suffering From Artblock And Need Motivation

Therefore, You and Me

Art for @tf2addictedman cuz he's cool

Happy 2nd anniversary vanilla extract

(TW: BLOOD AND GORE)

Dude I don't even fucking know where I was going with this one but take this engineer art

while you’re here i’d like to draw your attention to @alkliliyfamliy and their campaign! they’re only 11% to their goal, and even a little bit helps!

Stupid thing I drew

Original under the cut

Why are you staring at me like that

Joint operation

[ID: A Team Fortress 2 fanfic chapter banner in the style of the achievement icons. Engineer and Medic, both in orange, stand roughly back-to-back in the center of the banner, Engineer facing our left and carrying his toolbox on his shoulder, and Medic facing our right and pulling on his left glove. Engineer's hard hat, goggle lenses, and toolbox are yellow-white, and Medic's glasses and gloves are yellow-white. Off to either side of them are two stylized, orange lightning bolts striking toward them. In the bottom middle is the chapter title in yellow-white text on a transparent gray rectangle. The text reads “CHAPTER SIX: JOINT OPERATION” /end ID]

Flickering

Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Rating: K+ Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship Characters: Spy, Pyro, Engineer, Medic, Heavy Warnings: General references to trauma, panic attacks, self-harm Fic Description: After the events of the comics, the mercs try to go back to how things were, but it’s never that easy.

Spy can see his teammates going through their own struggles… but something seems to be very, very wrong with Pyro in particular.

And since no one else seems to be doing anything about this, Spy makes it his mission to get to the bottom of what is troubling Pyro. For no particular reason. Beta Readers: @mechmolar, @gonturan0, @junuve

—~~~—

Chapter 6: Joint Operation Summary: In which Spy employs the help of Engineer and Medic.

---~~~---

Engineer regarded them from the other side of the table, sitting in the only chair that remained in the mess hall. He held a mug of coffee—his second—in his gloved prosthetic, and drank from it slowly.

Pyro knelt across from him, staring down at the table, while Spy, now in his normal attire, stood at its side. The rest of the mercs had returned to their quarters for the time being—it was a day of ceasefire and they were keen on using it to recover from yesterday, and to catch up on the sleep that Pyro had interrupted.

Setting down his mug, Engineer heaved a sigh and lifted his goggles to rub at his eyes. "Remind me again what this is about?"

"The Pyro," Spy replied, gesturing toward it.

"Yeah. I gathered that." Engineer pulled his goggles back down before Spy could get a good look at his eyes. "And why was I woken up at the crack of dawn for this?"

"I believe the Pyro shares a slightly more intimate relationship with you than with the others."

"Intimate?" Engineer repeated. "What makes you say that?"

"Aside from the fact that you frequently collaborate on the battlefield, and it's stayed at your house for Smissmas in years prior?"

"What're you getting at?" He took another swig of his coffee, keeping his gaze locked onto Spy all the while.

Spy sighed. "You know how to communicate with it."

Engineer hummed in recognition. "Why didn't you say so? 'Course we can talk. Right, Mumbles?"

Slowly Pyro lifted its head and gave a faint nod, and Engineer frowned.

"'Course... it hasn't really wanted to talk in a while." The man shrugged. "I thought I'd give it some time—"

"On the contrary, I believe it does want to talk." When Spy looked down at Pyro for confirmation, it nodded a couple times. "But something is preventing it from doing so, and its attempts at communication have been... lacking, to say the least." He flexed his wrists, which had become bruised beneath the gloves. "I was hoping you could help."

"Now that I can do. Pardon me." With that, Engineer rose from his seat, exiting the mess hall. Pyro's gaze followed him as he left, and it tilted its head. It was only a minute or two before the Engineer returned with a large pad of tracing paper in his arms, as well as a few pencils and an eraser, which he set on the table before Pyro. "There. You wanna show us something, Pyro?"

Spy raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know it was literate."

"Just wait." Engineer calmly took another swig of coffee.

Meanwhile, Pyro stared blankly down at the paper, looking from the pad, to the pencils, and back. Suddenly it reared back, slapped the pencils off the table, and rose to its feet before leaving the mess hall in a huff.

"Incredible," Spy remarked flatly, crossing his arms.

"Give it a moment," Engineer said, stooping down to retrieve the pencils. "I think I know what it's up to."

"Something that doesn't involve fire, I hope," Spy muttered.

Sure enough, Pyro returned with a taped-together yellow and green box, which it set on the table next to the tracing paper. It opened the box to reveal a set of well-loved crayons.

Spy stared. "Seriously?"

The Engineer sat back and nodded. "All right. Show us what you're thinkin'."

With a nod, Pyro pulled out a bright red crayon, held it up to its lenses for a moment to regard the label, and began to draw using great, wide swoops. It then exchanged this for an orange crayon—also holding it close to confirm the label—then yellow, and so on.

Spy rolled his eyes, but watched the proceedings in morbid curiosity, marveling at the fact that the thing could even hold the crayons at all in its thick gloves (with its deadly claws beneath). Its drawing was a mess of random colors, and Spy had to bite his tongue to resist the urge to make a comment about therapy drawings or rorschach tests. The colors continued on—green, blue, indigo, violet—before he realized they weren't random, but were, rather, the colors of the visible light spectrum. Yet the Pyro was not drawing a rainbow.

"...What are we looking at?" Spy asked, squinting down at the drawing as Pyro gestured to it.

Engineer tilted his head, trying to get a better look at the drawing from his position on the opposite side of the table. "Looks like a fire to me."

Now that he mentioned it, Spy could see a stylized fire drawing with the use of a multitude of colors. Even so... "A rainbow fire?" Spy scoffed.

But Pyro perked up, lifting its head and nodding enthusiastically.

"How... creative." He grimaced, only to pause. "Is this how you see fire?"

The Pyro nodded, paused, then shook its head. Before Spy or Engineer could ask it any more questions, it grabbed a black crayon and, with two harsh swoops, marked a large "X" over its drawing.

"You... used to see fire that way, but now you don't," Spy guessed.

Pyro nodded slowly, then turned to its box to retrieve more colors. This time, rather than pulling out bright hues, it grabbed a light gray crayon, with which it began to draw similar great, wide swoops with. It then exchanged this for a darker gray, then for the black it had used earlier, and Spy hummed in recognition before the Pyro had finished its drawing.

He tapped a finger next to the drawing as the Pyro applied the finishing touches. "You now see fire in shades of gray?"

Pyro lowered its head and heaved a great, shaky sigh.

Spy nodded slowly, brow furrowing, before something struck him. "...Wait." He looked between the crossed-out rainbow fire, then at the grayscale fire, then back to Pyro. "Is this why you were pulling me toward the fire earlier?"

Perking up, Pyro nodded.

"This is why you sneaked into my smoking room and set one of my belongings aflame?" Heat burned within his ribcage as he leaned closer. "This is why you burned half the items in the fort and nearly dragged me into a bonfire—?!"

"Woah, woah, hold it, there." Engineer leaned over the table, grabbing Spy by the sleeve. "Pyro's got its quirks, but it ain't gonna try to hurt us for no reason." Looking over at Pyro, who was staring up at Spy with an unreadable look, he tapped against the paper to get its attention. "You weren't tryin' to hurt him. Just tryin' to show him what you're seein'. Right?"

It nodded.

"See? It didn't mean anything by it." Engineer sat back in his chair again and folded his hands together, looking down at the table in thought.

"What a comforting thought," Spy growled through clenched teeth, turning away. In a few sharp motions he retrieved a cigarette, lit it, and drew in the smoke.

"Y'know, Pyro..." Engineer began, slowly looking up at the thing. "You could've come to me for help."

Blinking, Spy turned back to Pyro, brow furrowed. It stared at the Engineer for a moment before turning back to Spy.

"...All right," the Engineer said, and Spy was mildly surprised at the hurt expression he caught on the man's face.

An uncomfortable silence followed.

"Well, the... rainbow fire certainly explains its attachment to fire. But is that really all?" Spy found himself asking as Pyro took up its crayons to draw again. "All of this—this refusal to speak, the strange behavior—just from a change of perceived colors?"

Engineer shrugged. "If all the color drained from somethin' you loved, you'd be pretty upset too, I imagine."

Spy considered this for half a moment before his back straightened and his eyes widened. He turned away from the table, taking a deep, deep drag from his cigarette, forced the smoke to cloud his mind, and let it out slowly.

Something tapped him on the side, and he jumped, spinning around to find the Pyro pointing at another corner of the paper, where it had drawn something new. This time it was a variety of shapes, which Spy squinted at before realizing that they were not all merely shapes. He recognized one of Pyro's flamethrowers, as well as one of the unicorn toys he'd spotted in its room. In the middle of the drawing was Pyro itself, and it, along with everything else, had been drawn in shades of gray.

"Not just fire, then," Spy remarked. "You're seeing everything this way."

Pyro's head lowered.

"Hm." He thought for a long moment, shifting his feet as he considered what he was about to ask. "Pyro, could you... tell us what happened, back at Gray Mann's base? When the enemy pyro took you away?"

Pyro raised its head, shuddered, and shook its head.

The Engineer's brow furrowed. "When the enemy—what?" He gave Spy a look. "I never heard about this."

Spy ignored him for now. "Do you not want to talk about it, or do you not remember?"

For a moment the Pyro seemed to consider this, then nodded slowly.

"...Yes?" Spy blinked. "Yes to what—to both?"

Pyro nodded again, then lowered its head.

"It's all right, Mumbles," Engineer said softly. "You don't gotta talk about this if you're not ready."

Sighing, Spy shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead, thinking this over. "So... you've been putting more effort than normal into matches. And you built that enormous bonfire. You even joined us in our celebrations." He looked back at the Pyro. "You've... been trying to bring the colors back."

Resting its arms against the table, Pyro buried its face.

Spy watched it for a moment as it shuddered. "Well, this explains quite a few things. Though it makes our job little easier." He tipped his head back, blowing a smoke ring up toward the ceiling. "How does one return colors to... whatever passes as this creature's soul?"

"I dunno, but good luck figurin' it out." Engineer rose from his seat, plucking up his empty coffee mug and heading for the kitchen.

Frowning, Spy watched him go. "You're not going to help?"

Engineer stopped in the doorway. "I solve practical problems. This is gettin' a little too philosophical for me." Pausing, he looked back at Pyro, who had resumed drawing things in another corner of the tracing paper, albeit with much less energy than before. He opened his mouth, then closed it, disappearing into the kitchen.

Spy stared after him, then snorted. "Merci, Dell," he called, and jabbed his cigarette butt into an ashtray on the table.

As he turned to trudge out of the mess hall, he heard the Engineer's voice behind him: "If you're lookin' for help about Pyro's voice, though, I think we both know who might be able to help with that."

Spy looked back, but the Engineer had already gone.

He stared at the doorway, then down at Pyro. It had its head resting in its left hand as it half-heartedly drew a line of people that Spy recognized as their fellow mercenaries... and his eyes fell on one with a pair of glasses and a bird on his shoulder.

—-

After getting a few more hours of sleep and a few bites to eat (and somehow convincing the Pyro to do the same), Spy hesitantly led Pyro down to the Medic's lab. When they turned the corner into the hallway, however, Pyro balked at the sight of the doors.

"I understand the feeling," Spy said, "but I'm afraid this will be necessary if you want help with your... issues."

Pyro looked between Spy and the doors a couple times before sighing, and the two resumed walking. Just before they reached the lab, however, the doors burst open, and Spy and Pyro both jumped back.

"Ah!" Medic said, returning his arms to his sides and smiling. "I've been expecting you!"

Spy exchanged a glance with Pyro. "You... have?"

"Of course! Engineer gave me a heads-up that you might be stopping by, and I didn't want to catch you snooping around here without my supervision." The corner of his smile quirked upward slightly, giving it an angrier edge.

Spy sensed Pyro staring at him out of the corner of his eye, and sighed. "That mistake will not happen again. Can we please get this over with?"

"Of course!" Medic's face brightened into a more genuine—but unhinged, as usual—smile, and he turned around, laughing. "I'd been hoping for an opportunity such as this!"

Spy winced, but waved Pyro onward. "On you go," he said, and after Pyro plodded into the lab, he muttered, "What am I doing with my life."

The lab had been tidied up since the previous incident. The doves occupied their usual spots, while Heavy sat in a nearby chair, holding Aristotle in his arms and watching delightedly as the baboon devoured a banana. Upon seeing Spy, however, Aristotle hissed, spewing half-chewed chunks of food out of his mouth.

"Hush," Heavy said, petting the monkey with a single finger. "Sneaky Spy will not cause trouble this time."

"He'd better not!" Medic whirled around on Spy with a harsh look. “I've given Aristotle permission to bite you if he catches you in those files again."

"Noted," Spy said, holding his hands behind his back.

Brightening once again, Medic looked at Pyro and patted the exam table. "Have a seat here, Pyro."

Pyro obeyed, climbing up onto the table and looking away from the Medic.

Medic grabbed a clipboard and a pen off of his desk. "So you've been having trouble speaking?"

Pyro did not answer, instead looking down at a spot on the floor.

"Its silence should tell you all you need to know," Spy remarked.

"Hm, yes. Well, in order to get to the bottom of this, I'll need to perform a basic examination." Looking up from his clipboard, Medic gave another eager smile. "Pyro, do you consent to—"

Pyro shook its head firmly, crossing its arms and huddling in on itself.

"You don't consent?" Medic scoffed. "Well we're never going to get anywhere like that."

Spy tried to shove his irritation at Pyro's behavior to the side. "Pyro, we are trying to help you. If you want the colors to return—"

"Colors?" Medic repeated, eyebrows raised. "I had not heard about this."

"Yes, that's another problem it's dealing with."

At the mention of the colors, Pyro tugged a folded sheet of tracing paper out of its pocket, unfolded it enough to reveal the two fire drawings, and held it out to show Medic.

Peering at the drawing, Medic adjusted his glasses. "Well now! This is interesting."

"You've heard of this happening before?" Spy asked, leaning forward in interest.

"A sudden case of colorblindness? Aheh, no. But I can try looking into it, if—"

Pyro shoved the drawing back into its pocket, crossed its arms, and looked away.

Medic frowned. "I see." Walking back over to his desk, he opened a drawer and began to search through it. "That's a shame, because I have this." And he held up a small pink lollipop.

Spy rolled his eyes. "That cannot possibly—ah mon dieu."

The Pyro was leaning forward on its seat, arms outstretched and hands making grabbing motions.

"Ah-ah!" Medic held the lollipop away. "These are only for patients."

Immediately Pyro lowered its hands and fixed the medic with a stare reminiscent of the way it looked at BLU mercenaries it was about to torch down. Medic merely met its gaze, initiating a silent staring contest.

After a few tense moments, Pyro kicked at the exam table with a loud BANG and dropped its arms to its sides.

"So you consent to the examination, then?" Medic asked, holding the lollipop closer.

Pyro tipped its head back and forth before giving a begrudging nod.

"Excellent! You can have this once we're done." With that, he set the candy on his desk and approached the Pyro once again. He pulled a small table over and retrieved a stethoscope from it, putting it over his ears and placing the disc-shaped piece on Pyro's chest. "Breathe normally, please."

Pyro gripped the edges of the exam table, but seemed to be making a valiant effort at breathing normally, in spite of how much it was shaking.

"Remain calm," Medic said. "This is only an examination. You can panic after we figure out what's wrong with you."

"You certainly have a way with words," Spy muttered.

"Danke." The Medic moved the stethoscope around Pyro's chest and back, listening intently. After a few minutes he removed the stethoscope and set it aside, and began writing on his clipboard. "Your heart rate seems elevated, but we can chalk that up to anxiety. But the megababoon heart I put inside you is still working beautifully!"

Aristotle shrieked from across the room.

"Oh, that's nothing you have to worry about, Aristotle," Medic called out, then lowered his voice. "Not for a while now, anyway." He shook his head. "Anyway! Lungs—or whatever you have that pass for them—sound very nice! Your filters must be doing their job."

Spy tilted his head. "So it's not lung damage, then."

"It doesn't seem so," Medic replied. He retrieved a blood pressure cuff and strapped it to Pyro's arm.

Pyro stiffened.

Spy moved closer to Pyro's side. "Are you all right?"

It did not respond, remaining still other than its trembling.

Frowning, Spy turned to Medic. "I... think it might be distressed. We were restrained at Gray Mann's base—"

"Oh, I'm sure it will be fine." Medic waved a dismissive hand while using his other to work the pump to inflate the cuff. "This will only take a minute—"

Pyro grabbed the cuff, ripped it from his arm, and chucked it aside. Its breathing was slow and ragged.

Spy and Medic stared, wide-eyed, and Heavy rose from his seat. Without taking his eyes off of Pyro, Medic waved Heavy away. "It's all right. We'll... skip that test for now."

When Pyro showed no signs of calming, Medic crept closer. "Listen to me, Herr Pyro. I enjoy the hurting on the battlefield as much as you, yes?"

Pyro stared for a moment, then nodded.

"Yes, well, that is not what I am trying to do to you now. I am trying to help you, understand?"

Again Pyro stared for a moment before letting out a shaky sigh, lowering its head.

"Good! Now, let's see..." With that, Medic returned to his table, grabbed an opthalmoscope, and moved up to Pyro again. "This should be... interesting? Look up, please."

Pyro raised its head, then jerked back when Medic shone his light through its lenses.

"Hold still."

"Uh." Spy looked between Medic and Pyro a couple times. "Is that... going to work?"

"We're about to find out!" Medic laughed, then moved to peer into Pyro's other lens. After a few moments of this, he retrieved his clipboard again and began writing. "Fascinating."

"What did you see?" Spy asked. He watched as Pyro rubbed at its lenses.

"I have no idea! This is the first time Herr Pyro has agreed to an examination, so this is all new ground for me."

"...Wonderful."

After setting aside his clipboard once again, Medic rubbed his chin in thought. "What else... Ah! I know." Walking around to the other side of the exam table, Medic reached toward Pyro. "Let's check your thyroid… assuming you have one." He then placed his palms on either side of Pyro's throat.

Pyro stiffened again and drew in a sharp breath. Before either Medic or Spy could react, Pyro reached back and grabbed Medic's wrists.

Medic's eyes widened. "Oh, that's not good."

With a great heave, Pyro swung Medic over its head and slammed him into the floor in front of them. Medic let out a cry of pain on impact, and Spy stumbled back in shock, while the doves scattered around the lab.

"Doctor!" Heavy cried, dumping Aristotle out of his lap as he rushed up to Medic. One hand lifted him up to his feet and held him against Heavy's side. "Doctor? Are you all right?"

Medic coughed, rubbing his back. "Perhaps not my wisest decision," he admitted.

"No kidding," Spy snapped. He looked back at Pyro, who was once again breathing heavily, and was raising its hands up to its own neck. "Pyro?"

Pyro's breathing grew more rapid, and it began to claw at its own throat.

Though Spy's heart hammered, he let his anger take over for a moment. "Stop it," he demanded. "You're going to hurt yourself!"

Still the Pyro did not respond to him, and, alarmingly, sounded as though it were choking between gasps.

"Pyro."

Spy watched in surprise as Heavy gently took Pyro's hands and pulled them away from its throat.

"Enemy team is not here. They are dead. We killed them all," Heavy said calmly. "Pyro is safe. No one will hurt. If anyone tries, I will crush."

Both Spy and Medic stared, wide-eyed, as Heavy walked Pyro through calming its breathing, gradually drawing it out of its episode. Once Pyro had calmed, Heavy let its hands go and stepped away.

Spy could only stare at Heavy, and gestured at Pyro in utter bewilderment.

"Heavy's sisters would get like this sometimes," Heavy said simply. "Scared, when is no danger. I help them calm down."

"Impressive, mein freund," Medic remarked, patting Heavy on the side. The Heavy gave a grunt of acknowledgment.

"Are you... feeling better, Pyro?" Spy looked the Pyro over; it was hunched over, its head hanging.

Medic shakily retrieved his clipboard and made a few notes. "It may be worn out. But in my professional medical opinion..." His eyes narrowed as he skimmed over his own notes, then looked up. "There is nothing wrong with the Pyro. Not physically, anyway. Me, on the other hand..." He placed a hand on his back and stretched. "Ugh."

"What?" Spy held out his hands in exasperation. "How can that be?"

Turning toward his desk, Medic plucked up the lollipop. "The Pyro is crazy as ever, but this is not a surprise." He handed the candy to the Pyro, who snatched it away from him, holding it protectively against its chest. "Thank you for your... uh, cooperation, Pyro. You're free to go."

Pyro, however, did not leave, staring Medic in the eyes.

Spy couldn't blame it, and joined Pyro in glaring at the Medic. "'Crazy?'" he echoed. "That's your diagnosis?"

"Of course not." Picking up the clipboard again, Medic frowned down at his notes. "The Pyro has always been crazy. But right now it is currently experiencing symptoms of a little something we call shellshock."

"Is that supposed to be news?" Spy demanded. "In case you haven't noticed, doctor, at least half the team has that."

"Oh, ja, let me just fire up the medi gun to cure that for you!" the Medic snapped, chucking his clipboard onto his table.

Heavy stepped in, grabbing Medic's shoulder. "Doctor, do not do this again."

Spy's brow furrowed. "Again?"

Sighing, Medic ran a hand over his face. "You and Pyro are not the first to seek my help for this."

"I wasn't seeking—"

"Ja, sure. There is only so much that can be done for this, unless you want me to try cutting the shellshock out of your brains," Medic went on, pressing his hands against his desk. He was quiet for a moment. "I cannot help you or Pyro."

"But—"

Pyro let out a long sigh, sliding off of the exam table and trudging out of the lab. Spy looked from the doors to the Medic, then gave a snort, following Pyro out.

He should have known they wouldn't be able to help.