|1||Adult Request Thread Pre-emptive Strike||698||23 November 2011 03:52|
|2||Hepatically Yours (Demo x Medic)||2||20 January 2015 15:01|
|3||Poulette||162||20 January 2015 04:37|
|4||NotTim||81||14 January 2015 03:26|
|5||Any class and you?||198||12 January 2015 18:48|
|6||Where is that Scout X Reader fanfic??||1||12 January 2015 06:36|
|7||Just a Little Friendly Competition- Engineer/Sniper||6||8 January 2015 07:04|
|8||In My Sights--Sni/Spy/Eng (Sniper POV)||1||8 January 2015 06:34|
|9||Terrible dark fic (Soldier+Scout/Engineer) Noncon.||27||2 January 2015 16:13|
|10||Cara Mia Ciao||71||1 January 2015 05:47|
|11||Butterfly Knife||176||30 December 2014 14:36|
|12||Heavy is Cold for Once in His Life- Heavy/Medic||4||23 December 2014 09:22|
|13||Dying Wish (Soldier/Bucket)||8||17 December 2014 13:23|
|14||Looking for a deleted story||1||15 December 2014 04:53|
|15||Chargin' (Demoknight/Reader)||7||12 December 2014 23:10|
|New Thread | All Threads|
Okay, the newer one has already started to auto-sage. It's currently still on the front page but it has fallen past the line where we'll have to start clicking All Threads in order to see it.
Here is the link to it and the ones before it. Lots of great requests still in these!
I'm going to repost the two most recent ones from the most recent thread.
I know this is mostly requests for new stuff, but I haven't been here in a while and I'm having trouble finding an old fanfic. It was Engie x You, started with ambiguous-gender-ness and then had two endings, one for M and one for F.
This was for Secret Santa 2014 over on tf2promptfest on tumblr. My first time writing Demo, and I really wanted to avoid making him the insensate drunk that I often see in the fandom.
It was hard to tell which annoyed Demo more: that the bottle was just beyond of the reach of his outstretched fingers, or the fact that his left leg had been blown off. He huffed out a sigh that sent the parched dirt swirling away from his mouth and, unhelpfully, into his eye. Irritating in more ways than one.
The RED Soldier had blind-sided him and shot a rocket right at his feet. It'd had the combined effect of slamming him backwards into and through the wall of the building behind him, and of separating his lower leg from its vital, upper section. Demo had no idea if that lonely limb was in one piece. It seemed irrelevant right at this point. After all, what was he going to do with it if it was? He didn't have any band-aids on him, and he'd used the last of the gaffer tape over an hour ago. It'd be as useful as attaching a roast lamb to the stump anyway.
He scrunched up his face, trying to shift the drying grit from under his eyelid, and let out a few choice phrases that he felt adequately described his disappointment that the rocket-blasting leg-separator hadn't finished him off. The bastard could at least have knocked him a bit closer to the fucking bottle!
Demo stretched futilely again but the bottle was at least two feet away. Unbroken as well, unlike him, but visualising his arm elongating hopefully towards it like a thirsty snake was the only thing that was distracting him from the viciously acidic pain flowing up his thigh.
Maybe if he just lay here, someone from RED would either come along and end this physical perjury, or he'd bleed out and go through Respawn. He wasn't all that keen on trying to stand and hop back into the fray, nor was he that interested in seeing what the inside of his knee looked like.
It wasn't until he opened his eye that he realised he'd passed out. All-in-all, this was turning into a really shitty day. The mission had been a debacle, he was missing a quite
This is my very first attempt at TF2 fic, and is a oneshot. Please be gentle.
I don’t remember all that much. I don’t remember my name, for example. Sometimes when I try the fragments fly around like leaves in a teacup.
I recall being relieved when the van stopped for me on the highway out of town, and the thin one looked out. He said I could hide with them as long as I needed to, and laughed when I hid my head under a blanket in the back. I don’t remember what I was running from, only that I did not want to remember.
The soft one is almost as small as I am, and always comes to me naked. I hear the door open and close, then rustlings of fabric and metal on the stone as he strips while walking. He smells like engine oil and soap, and says nothing until afterward. He likes to touch me everywhere, with both his warm and cold hands. He learned one day that if he used his fingers inside me when I came, my cries poured forth babbling, fluting chirps. Once, when he didn’t stop I fainted, and when I woke up he was gone.
This room has no windows, and the light that shines through the frosted glass in the door can come on at any hour. I wake instantly at this, and can even steal a minute or two to groom myself before the door opens. I don’t remember how I arrived. Or what happened between that day and when I woke up in this room, on a pile of blankets in that corner behind the boxes. They come to me here when they can’t sleep. Many nights can pass where they don’t come, but those are rare. I guess they don’t sleep well.
The big one is the nicest. He almost always asks first, and never goes on top since that first time. He always sneaks in honey for the grain paste that is all I am can really eat now, and always brushes my hair while I clean up. He tells me stories in his own language, which is wild and choppy like a ravine in flood. I can hear his smile when he teases me into breathy laughter. He likes me to bite him in little pecks all down his chest and promises one day to show me the moon.
Oh, wow. I'm new here, and it seems like this thread is long dead, but this story was enough to prompt me to make my first reply/post on here. I'll probably never get a response, but does anyone know where I can find more of the OP's work, or their tumblr? I'm sure this fic will haunt my subconscious for quite a long time.
OP's tumblr is Justamus, and they don't seem to have written much in a long while. That said, their Secret Santa fic a couple years back was also quite horrific.
Reposting this repost of a repost since y'all lost everything. Originally written by OwlTiem. Because of character limits, this has to be broken into 2 parts, jsyk.
Six nails. There are six nails in the underside of the kitchen table, and a wooden bracket at each corner to keep it straight. At some point, someone has dropped a cigarette on the table cloth and turned it over to hide the scar, so it hangs down on the left if he sits with his feet towards the sink (and who would burn a tablecloth and just hide it? That's not right. Someone will find it and blame him, because he smokes so much, but it wasn't him. It's not his tablecloth to burn.) In the middle is a no man's land where he can scrunch himself up, arms around his knees, and be almost sure of no feet brushing him which might give away the secret - unless Sniper sits in the middle and leans back in his chair, which has only happened once. (He was trembling for hours after that, curling up in Engineer's room, lighting one cigarette off the end of the last.) All Sniper did was huff and refurl his knees, giving nothing away (which is why it's so stupid that he got so scared, so fucking stupid.)
The first time he ended up under there was only a day or so after defecting, sneaking into the kitchen in the dead of night to peel a thin strip of glaze off of Soldier's apple pie (he knows it's wrong, very wrong, it's stealing and it's a bad idea and they might even throw him out; but it tastes so good and he'd only ever take the tiniest bit, just for the sweetness) only to be interrupted by Demo and Pyro (punishment for the crime, no doubt.) Of course he wasn't seen, but spent an hour under the table, listening to Demo curse and bitch and Pyro snigger and mutter. It's a good place to hide if surprised in the kitchen, it's a reliable place at least; but it's not very easy to escape from unnoticed (always have an escape plan. ALWAYS have an escape plan.) It was five people this time, too many to deal with coming in all at once, and too many to slip past cloaked (so of course the best course of action is to get under th
Holy Mary Mother of Joseph. NotTim might be the single best thing I have seen out of TF2. I'm floored by the wonderful process of his creation, and the amazing writing that's been done with him. We need to bring NotTim back. He's the most adorable thing ever, and the world needs more. (side note: I LOVE the idea of his real name being Mitton)
I've been a thread stalker for a couple of months for a fanfic and I was wondering if there is anyone who can still make those kinds of fics now these days? If so, feel free to put it here.
That's fine. I can't speak for anyone else, but even if you make it totally worksafe, or even genfic, I'd be happy.
Nah there's definitely smut, I just get way too carried away with the lead up and setting the scene. I have to make sure it's not 'one finger, two finger, three finger, DICK' so its a bit balanced now, christ
Hi, I'm new here, hopefully I'm saging correctly! I've been thinking about writing something with CBS, but I'm having a hard time getting a solid grasp on the character. Could anyone recommend some fics that feature him? They seem rare, and interest in CBSxreader fics looks to be even rarer, but iunno. I'm into it.
I'm looking for an adult fanfiction about Scout and the reader. It had quite a few chapters and the author's name was something like Nine Tails or SOMETHING. It's an OLD fan fic and I cannot find it anywhere to save my life.
Of course, I'm almost sure no one here will remember this fan fic, and I will be DAMNED if someone did, or even has it saved or something.
Another freshly published fic that I'd like to share with you fine folks here. Another collaborative work between me and Isabread, this is about five chapters long.
<i>“I told ya to relax, mate. And you’re breathing wrong. Not from your chest,” He pressed his hand to the other man’s front, then trailed it down to his stomach. “from your belly. Nice deep breaths, now.” He felt the Texan adjust his oxygen intake, though he could feel his heart continue to thrum wildly in his chest.
“Whenever you’re ready, take the shot.” He breathed.</i>
The BLU Engineer had done it. His request for sustenance of higher quality than a polymer-protein and dubiously named “edible devices” had finally been cleared. The Engineer cracked a smile when he found it on the latest supply shipment. Ribs. Honest-to-god ribs. The Engineer was pretty sure it was beef, maybe some experimental form of beef, but beef nonetheless. He was careful to keep it secret from the team as he snuck the meat satchel off to his workshop. As a proper Texan, the Engineer was a trained expert in the ways of his people. He knew just about everything there was to know about cattle, and he sure knew how to make a barbeque so mean it’s spit in your eye and slap your grandma. Best damn barbeque this side of the mason-dixon line.
Of course he never had any intention of keeping it for himself, just wanting it to be a surprise for the team. Everyone was right fed up with their rations, and he knew that with recent leave requests being denied for the ceasefire coming up, they needed some sort of break. The Engineer had specially welded his own propane grill for the job, waving off the odd question of his invention’s function until preparations were complete.
The Sniper awoke in the middle of the night to cold rain dripping at a steady rate onto his face and sleeping bag. His tent was fairly used from his trips in the Outback, but he didn’t think it was falling apart already. He cursed. That was the third time he was unprepared for this outing. He really was getting soft. He wiggled out of his sleeping bag, already getting wet . How had he not woken up to this mess sooner?
Goddamn Thunder Mountain.
As he walked out of his tent into the pouring rain in nothing but his underwear, he looked for a way to cover the holes peppering his shelter. On the other side of the campsite, the Engineer’s tent caught his eye. He shivered in the rain, thinking about the dry warmth of the other man’s tent. Surely the grease-monkey couldn’t fault him for seeking shelter in his tent when his own weather-worn one was soaked?
He made his way inside and sat as close to the exit as possible and allowed himself to drip-dry for a few minutes so that he wouldn’t get his companion wet as well. He looked at the Southerner sleeping peacefully away in his snug sleeping bag. It looked nice and dry.
As he wriggled close to the other, he realized all the jostling and even thunder failed to wake his sleeping companion. The damn Texan slept like a rock. The Sniper sighed and tried to make himself comfortable, hopping he would get back to sleep despite the storming sky outside.
The Engineer slowly woke from surreal dreams of beef jerky. He felt a warmth beside him, and in his half-awake state, instinctively snuggled up to it, draping an arm over the source, pulling it closer. His eyes snapped fully open, uttering a kind of surprised grunt when he realized who was in his tent and what he himself was doing to him. The Engineer shifted away from Sniper, who had his back turned from him, still sound asleep. He didn’t object to Sniper being in his tent, just a little confused. From this view of Sniper’s bare back, he noticed light scars, most of them bite wounds from the look of them. He could also see what that tattoo from earlier said. It read “Mum” in big, black letters. The Engineer couldn’t help but smile. T
The Sniper’s kiss shocked him. The Engineer never bothered to even have a hope that Sniper would reciprocate his feelings. He sat, still, taking this revelation in, questioning if that even just happened. His lips twitched and failed to form words as he stared at the Sniper, stared at this rugged man, this focus of his desires. The Engineer took the guitar from Sniper’s hands and gently set it aside, never breaking eye contact. He went for it. He grabbed the Sniper and yanked him in for a long, tender kiss. He broke it only to look into the Sniper’s eyes, to have some confirmation that this moment was even real, lips remaining close to his.
For a moment as the Sniper pulled back from his peck on the Engineer’s lips he was afraid that he had made the wrong move, judging by the momentary stupor his comrade was silenced into. His face fell for the briefest moment before the other man grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and smashed their lips together for another kiss. At first the sharpshooter tensed and hesitated, not quite believing that he was being kissed back, but he quickly melted into the other man’s touch, bringing his right hand up to cup his cheek as he deepened the kiss. The Engineer tasted like the game they just ate, wild and full of spice. It tingled the Sniper’s lips and tongue. He felt hot all over, a desire rising within him.
When they broke apart he gasped for air, licking his lips. He was glad that the Engineer had allowed him to kiss him, but he wanted more than that. He climbed onto the other man’s lap and planted a new kiss onto the Texan’s neck just below his ear.
The Sniper confirmed they were of the same mind as he escalated their heated exchange. The Engineer relished in the stubble scraping his neck as he in turn kissed the man’s neck, tasting the salt of his skin. He held him tighter, pulled him in closer, ran a hand up Sniper’s torso, and felt lean muscle through fabric. Thoughts of everything the Engineer wanted to do to him arose in his mind, and it made him hot.
Kissing devolved into nibbling, bumping his teeth along skin. He couldn’t get enough of it. He moved a daring hand lower, lower along th
So, eighty years ago, or six, or whatever, I wrote In My Sights in response to a request, I think. And I was asked to write Sniper's POV, and I was sure I put it here, but I couldn't find it, so if anyone wants it, here it is. IMS and Engie POV is with it in the afic archives. Hope you enjoy.
In My Sights (Sniper POV)
It was dusty in the air ducts. I wonder if the Spy was used to this. I couldn't help but think of how the storms used to settle a blanket of dust over the houses in old 'down-under' towns. I looked over my Kukri, unusually distracted. It wasn't the plan; that was the easy part, but something kept bugging me. Maybe it was the plan. It wasn't right, but I bet it would be fun. Not much left between right and wrong out here anymore. Everybody's mission objective was make sure you kill everyone else before they kill you.
I sat up from hunching back against the duct wall, a tapping noise and a beep making me flinch. Took the wanker long enough. I was beginning to think this wasn't turning out, but he didn't disappoint. Our Pyro came prowling around the corner, or, someone who looked like our Pyro, but I knew our flamethrower was busy cooking, despite the alarms not sounding yet.
I waited for the metal box to come out before I jumped down out of the open vent, landing on top of the Spy. He let out an expected grunt as I kneed him into the floor and kneeled down over his lower back. He reached for his balisong, but I took his hand, snorting out a laugh. "Hey there, wanker. You feeling lucky tonight or did ya take a blow to the head?"
He started thrashing after my comment, but I was ready for the struggle and put my steel to his neck. I palmed his forehead and pulled his head back to make the point clearer. "Nah don't struggle. I need that pretty neck of yours," I chuckled, bowing his body back until he started complying. "To your knees." He obeyed quite nicely and I walked him past the decoy sentry, a small grin finding me as we walked. He smelled like a good catch. The faint trace of tobacco, Jasmine cologne, and adrenaline filling my nostrils as w
This is a gift I'm working on for a friend, who basically requested two random classes from one team finding and violating one from the other during humiliation round. I'm posting it here because I used to lurk in the threads some years ago and I think it's sad the chan is dead. Set in Sawmill, if it was like... bigger. WILL CONTAIN NONCON AND GRAPHIC VIOLENCE.
Scout isn't afraid. He likes to think he doesn’t know how to be afraid anymore, and if he does, he sure as hell isn't going to let it show in front of his own teammate.
Red Soldier, it's the understatement of the year to say he's batshit insane, but he knows things, and Scout ain’t ever seen him afraid of anything.
Soldier's seen a lot of things, Soldier's done a lot of things Scout probably doesn’t want to know about, but he thinks he probably needs to know. If he's going to stay here, risking his ass for intel he doesn’t get to see and shitty pieces of desert and run-down buildings, Scout sure as hell isn't just going to sit on the sidelines and watch while his team hogs all the fun.
He isn't stupid. He knows fighting doesn’t stop when the winning team is announced. Once a team is declared winner, what's left of the other is usually scattered or sent to respawn – often by Scout's own barrel or bat. And he's been killed a great deal of times himself during humiliation round too,
There's nothing to do but run or kill after a match, and he figures that's what most of his teammates do.
But Scout isn’t stupid, and Scout sees a lot too.
>>25 Or really any of the BLUs, considering it appears Soldier's done this to just about all of them? (though I do admit Revengineer is a personal favorite of mine)
23 24 25
I will probably be writing a sequel at some point (haven't been able to access the site for two weeks). It would definitely come with an explanation for Medic's involvement and some sort of punishment/revenge from the BLUs.
26 Hah actually while I was writing I had this headcanon explanation for why something like this could occur more than a few times and not have major consequences for the enemy team or Soldier. I figured the teams switch around. Like every third month or so they get assigned to a new battlefield/map and another team to fight against, eliminating the risk of enemies becoming friends and keeping the endless fighting from growing stale.
So uh, that would be something I would have to explain in a second fic, but without getting too much into the whole clone thing, because I don't want it to be about that.
This is a prequel to Sniper’s Lovely Lady (found here: http://tf2chan.net/afanfic/res/6496.html) I’m finally posting on here without my friend Gattling Gun doing it for me. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I’m having fun writing it. If there are mistakes it’s my fault, it’s my first time posting on here.
Crossover with Portal.
Cara Mia Ciao
The sun beat down on Sniper as he stared into his scope. It was a Saturday, and he was taking some time off to go camping in the great outdoors. Just him and the wild, sleepin’ under the stars like his ancestors. He had a tent set up in the desert and had been planning on sitting by the fire and plucking idly at his banjo.
Instead, he was staring at a deer.
The creature had to be a good ways off, small even in the eye of his scope. Sniper hadn’t seen much wildlife apart from the Medic’s doves—and a deer was even more peculiar. There had to be a water supply somewhere, a pond or a stream. Sniper grimaced and swore under his breath. Damn his curiosity.
He put out the fire until all that was left was smoldering coals. Sniper packed lightly, binoculars and his rifle… there was no such thing as being too careful. He adjusted his aviators and set off to get a better layout of the wildlife.
And now for something completely different, a.k.a. a story in which there is no gay porn! This will be kinda long, and I'm not sure where I'm going with it, but hopefully it'll be good. Posted here because I'm planning some pretty horrific scenes later.
The land outside the window of the train was dusty and red. Quite appropriate, in fact, considering their destination. They were travelling through the American mid-west somewhere, on the way to a desert base that was largely cut off from the outside world. Spy was alone on the train, and contemplating a fate that could very possibly be worse than death.
The Administrator had made it clear that there were no other options; at least, none worth considering for any length of time. It was either work for RED, in their not-so-secret war, or serve several life sentences in a maximum security prison. Spy stared moodily at the dossier lying on the next seat, which detailed the base operations and mission particulars, and lit another cigarette. Truth be told, the only reason she had taken them up on their offer was because prison would be unimaginably boring.
What was she going to, however? They had not been entirely clear, and the intel she had received was partially censored. She was going to fight – her predecessor had retired, apparently – and she would be expected to support the current team in their mission to oust the BLU mercenaries who were encroaching on the RED's territory. Additional weapons and instructions would be provided when she arrived.
She pulled out her balisong knife and began flicking it backwards and forwards. The quiet clicking sound was soothing, even over the rumble of the engine. The dossier seemed to suggest that the RED mercenaries died on a regular basis, but this fact was treated as being largely passé. That was suspicious, and smacked of medical experiments the like of which she had heard about during the Nazi occupation. Being sent into a meat grinder was not part of the deal, and she was prepared to get very messy if it looked like her own death was imminent. Spy hated being used, and she reacted... badly..
So I posted this on Tumblr in response to an ask and forgot to post it here. And now I'm posting it here. It's sort of a follow up or... I dunno. Enjoy!
She’d missed the coffee, more than anything else. There was something about real French coffee that simply couldn’t be replicated anywhere else. It was so strange, that this alone spoke to her of home the way nothing else did. The Parisien cafe was pleasant, yes, but it held no hint of familiarity. The last time she was in Paris, it had been a very different place.
Still, the woman who was sometimes a Spy was content. The feeling was unexpected, but there it was. All that time during the war, all the sacrifices she had made as part of the Resistance - it had been worth it. French men and women walked the streets as free people, carefree and lazy in the summer sun. They could because of her.
"What the hell is this crap?" her companion said, holding up the tiny espresso cup and peering into it suspiciously. "It tastes like goddamn motor oil."
She smiled at him behind her own cup. Of course he didn’t like it. He hated the shirt and jeans she forced him to wear instead of his usual uniform. He complained about the food at the hotel. He shouted at the bewildered porter who tried to take his suitcase. He didn’t particularly like the dress she had chosen either, but he knew better than to make an issue of it.
"It is the finest French roast available on this side of the Atlantic, Jean. Please try to appreciate it," she said pleasantly. His natural antagonism could not ruin her mood.
He slumped in the chair and glared at the passers by. She watched him, more than them. She still wasn’t sure why he had agreed to come with her, but his presence still soothed her. He guaranteed that she would not receive any unwanted attention. And she could still catch him glancing at her, every once in a while, as if he needed to reassure himself that she was still with him.
Pssst... I really liked this and I'm glad you posted the epilogue here. It was perfect.
Freshly <ahref="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2831201">published</a> on Archive of Our Own, I thought I might shoot this fic me and DeenyPheentom collabed on over to you fine folks on the chan.
<i>An outing onto the ice takes an unexpected turn for Medic and Heavy. All of a sudden, the fear of rejection does not seem as daunting as the fear of losing each other. <i/>
The announcement of a sudden transfer was an unexpected yet welcomed form of change. The daunting task of packing the entire base up and leaving did not bother Heavy, in fact he smiled about it, inwardly excited for the transfer. The desert land they fought over was burned into his mind, and Heavy had to constantly remind himself there was a whole world out there; there was more to his life than senseless fighting, he had a family to go home to once it was all over. Some days the base felt like a prison, and on those days, he was particularly quiet.
As the train stopped at their new base, the chill took his breath away in awe. The snow was different from the harshness of his homelands; this snow was bearable, the cold almost feeling like a spring day to Heavy. It was a treat to be out in the snow, Heavy's entire face lit up as he happily marched around the base, not even wearing extra layers of clothing at first. Compared to the desert, Heavy felt at home here, he was a man built for winter and the brutal cold, not the unforgiving heat. When no one else shared his joy for the change of weather, he wrote them off as being babies. They complained about the heat and now they would whine about the cold. This was nothing to Heavy.
The only one spared of his scorn was Medic. He reasoned it was strictly because they were good friends, one would have to be after being roommates in their former base, and that was the only logical explanation why he watched over Medic. Friends looked out for each other like that but Heavy knew Medic was more than a close friend. It was the only reason why he tied a scarf around Medic's exposed neck, told him how to dress in layers correctly,
10:45 PM - r_Contra: should i write
10:46 PM - r_Contra: soldier/bucket porn
10:46 PM - r_Contra: because i already know
10:46 PM - r_Contra: what i want to do
10:46 PM - Cat Bountry: With Shovel being cuckolded.
10:46 PM - r_Contra: Done.
10:47 PM - r_Contra has changed their name to r_Contra is writing.
It hadn't ever been something Jane Doe spent much of his time thinking about. He'd died too many times to count, mostly at the hands of people that looked exactly like him- but were probably Communists, all things considered- and others who resembled his teammates yet somehow were not. The Medic and Engineer had explained their Respawn Hypothesis to him and the rest of the team a few years ago, but Jane had already long forgotten the specifics and just preferred to stick with his Shovel.
The RED Soldier gave a guilty gulp.
Oh, Shovel. He'd almost forgotten.
this was illarious, the best part of "love & war" indeed
The characterization of the shovel reminds me of "when a man loves a shovel", or whatever, by Marty,
So there used to be this story called 'La bete' on fanfiction.net, and the original author deleted it. Was just wondering if anyone here happened to see it and save it.
Fic was sniper/tentaspy medic/tentaspy, kinda pwp where the spy accidentally gets injected with some sort of syrum and turns into a tentaspy, sniper and medic being the only ones there to help him. I unfortunately do not remember the author's name.
Not expecting a miracle or anything, but if anyone happens to have it that would be great.
5:56 PM - ATF_Joan / @_@: no contra no
5:56 PM - killohurtz: CONTRA NO
5:57 PM - [oops]❤Mama❤: contra
5:57 PM - [oops]❤Mama❤: nooooooooooo
5:56 PM - ATF_Contra /// -dictory: TIME TO WRITE A SMUTFIC WHEREIN THE DEMO USES THE CHARGE N TARGE DURING SEX
5:56 PM - ATF_Contra /// -dictory: THAT DICK IS GONNA BE UNSTOPPABLE
5:55 PM - Dane: NO
5:55 PM - Dane: CONTRA NO
5:56 PM - ATF_Contra /// -dictory: I'M UNSTOPPABLE
5:57 PM - ATF_Contra /// -dictory: FIRST MINISENTRIES, THEN BUCKETS, NOW DEMOKNIGHTS
5:57 PM - ATF_Contra /// -dictory: NOTHING IS SAFE
5:56 PM - Dane: THE WORLD IS NOT READY
If he wears the wee booties to bed, does he get better turning control?