|1||Adult Request Thread Pre-emptive Strike||701||23 November 2011 03:52|
|2||Null Our Boor; or: Taco Run||39||29 January 2016 02:37|
|3||Freizeit's Smut Thread||31||19 January 2016 20:23|
|4||Help Me Find the Best Fanfic I've Ever Read||3||18 January 2016 00:20|
|5||Poulette||163||8 December 2015 16:36|
|6||Burn Ward (Medic x Pyro)||6||5 December 2015 06:18|
|7||Trying to find a particular Demo/Sniper fic||2||4 December 2015 01:22|
|8||Efficient German You-Know-What/My Other NSFW Fics||3||18 September 2015 06:22|
|9||Scout/Scoutma for super-perverse little deviants||3||13 September 2015 04:59|
|10||Class & You: Request Thread, Name-Your-Kink||66||27 August 2015 03:39|
|11||Pauling harem||22||20 August 2015 02:00|
|12||Has anyone seen this fic? (Engineer/Scout)||1||12 August 2015 11:24|
|13||AND THEN THIS! (Engineer x Sentry Disguised Spy) - FIXED FORMATTING||3||26 July 2015 23:51|
|14||Any, and I mean any, Quick-Fix/Blunt Force Trauma (aka Medic/Scout) fics||5||13 July 2015 07:33|
|15||Southern Hospitality||19||5 June 2015 00:56|
|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.
Okay, so I've started fleshing it out a bit. I want, for a change, for everyone else on the team to have turned Medic down for sex. They think he's creepy and unattractive. Heavy's the only one who likes him, and Medic takes advantage of this. Also hacking a few limbs off in the process, because he's a terrible person.
Either that, or a similar idea with Classic Heavy x Modern Heavy, because I see Classic Heavy as someone who would only have sex with someone who would challenge him (i.e. Modern Heavy).
My On the Road/TF2 pastiche.
I first startarted bumming around with Scout a few years after the war ended and a few before war ended which was never a war, , and this was long before I realised that neither war really had a beginning or an end and that all of them just ran into eachother, willrun into each other til the end of time, but more about that later. Scout had decided that night he was “just stahvin for a taco” and I had to reflect that sentiment. We were both coming down and Scout was certain that he was the fitter of the two of us to drive, I could not object. He had only done “just a little speed and some mescaline.” “Where'd you get mescaline?” “Where I get mescaline.” That's when I knew I would never get a straight answer out of him for anything, as if I ever wanted one. We left and very shortly I knew we wouldn't just be getting tacos. “I need to see the Medic,” he said and gave me a cheeky bloody wink and while we were driving he told me about his awesome life: running, literally, from one girl to the next high, to the next girl to the next high, to a few men in between, mostly for the money. “I'm the fastest hand in Boston!” I believed him about that mostly business and I didn't question him further on it. We arrived at Medic's place and before the engine stopped, Scout had bounded over the carhood and was screaming into the building's intercom, “I'M HYEAH TA BUY!” We were buzzed in. While dazed and lumbering halfway up the steps, he'd already reached his destination but immediately raced back down to intercept me, “Come on, old man, you're holding up the mission!” “Gwaawn, I'm not that much older than you!” “You are.” “You just seem young cause you still act like a teenager.” The door opened. “Aw, gawddammit!” “C'est le plus plaisir de vous-rencontre, aussi. You've brought another friend, I see.” “Saloooo!” I called out. A plain, unmasked face suddenly appeared and I was taken aback, we
Continued [please, masturbate gloomily as needed]:
Heavy felt the most trepidation at what he was about to do in how the rest would receive the event, that it is derivative and obvious. We know how much you love Tolstoy, but is this the best way to show it? He calculated and tried to merge the deceleration of the train and his body's acceleration. Witness this, everyone: the trite and sentimental escape no one. Cliches tie all the absurdities between breaths together. All else is pornography.
The resulting red cloud made Mundy grip his kukri handle so firmly that it should have bonded to his hand. This is what it feels like to faint, he thought as his balance faltered. His personal dignity was undiminished since he was not the focus of anyone's attention presently. Shock melted into pure emotional anguish; this sensation made itself felt as a burning that emanated from his soft palate and radiated through to his forehead.
Spy's thoughts turned to religion: how the ones of eastern origin generally concluded that this experience—what we tether ourselves to and label physical reality—is all illusion; still, this is too much reality for some people. These are the ones who are blessed more than they can stand until it becomes a burden. You come to a choice: abandon reality, abandon meaning, or abandon the self. This is how Nihilism becomes a luxury.
Pyro knew exactly what was meant by the explosion of glitter and gears and, having long since lost the capacity to experience shock, ran toward it, fully aware of the futility in the gesture. This is what it means to be human: find the hopeless moments react against it, extract meaning and amplify. Delusion doesn't change reality, it merely favors one louder, brighter set of noise over another.
Scout, Spy and Tavish were the three men who had the wherewithal to go after the Pyro; Scout was the only one fast enough to make the interception. The rolling around that followed was hard enough to take, but it was all of this misery and drama mashed together that made him gasp for air, a remarkably rare event indeed though obviously overshadowed by a few others. My catching the vapors i
Mundy thought it natural that he should accept the callousness prize and be the first to embark. Honestly, there was no more anyone could do outside of the train except enter it—there wasn’t even a vest to collect as sentiment. Still, the weight of the situation seemed to manifest itself physically in that getting into the car felt like stepping out of (or into) a jelly made with Fanta. He wouldn’t mention this to the others for fear of being accused of using psychotropics.
It was only the “Please” that came after the phrase “ONE AT A TIME” that compelled the Spy to release the Pyro’s hand. Gentility could survive anything, he thought as he stepped into what can only be described as the Charmat method: a brief, tingling thrill at first but—and this is where the comparison was most apt—followed by a lingering, dull confusion. His legs (his body, entire) behaved in a corresponding fashion until he managed to find a seat.
As the PyroVision goggles melted away, the pyro sighed. This clearly wasn’t the worst thing to happen today but an appropriate reaction to this loss could be expressed immediately and completely. Most trauma has to be handled like a receding tide, and make no mistake, the goggles functioned to distort reality both ways, the first obvious way for the viewer but there was also the second subtler distortion of the viewer. Though, what exactly could be discerned under everything else?
By Scout’s summation, the sight of Pyro’s hair and eyes was only a novelty especially since the rest of the ensemble—coveralls, t-shirt—was practically more formless than the fire retardant suit. Scout had imagined Pyro’s human form (surely, there was a better way to phrase that) so frequently that its presence finally made manifest was no cause for alarm. At this point he was even desensitised to spychecks which actually in a way were affectionate.
There were enough seats for everyone without the need to negotiate between a window or an aisle which seemed to encourage an antisocial arrangement to the delight of mostly everyone present. As Doe (the Vicar) would often tell us, this isn’t a tea party; he’s a doc
Now, with neither the necessity nor the ability, the Spy wanted to disappear. This time, it was not to hide but to be absent. In this he was envious of Mundy—a rare honor, let's hope—for distance accomplished the same effect. In spite of how much fun the terror of lurking inspired (especially knowing that sometimes this only required the possibility of his presence), he was ready and more than willing to be just a memory at this point.
Pyro felt no desire to contribute to a conversation but sitting with someone seemed to be the healthier option. Scout was already talking the ears off Degroot and Mundy and looked to be quite occupied. Dell was usually willing to share a recipe of any Southern dish that was closer to an array of opinions than actual measurements; this could fill a solid hour. However, the pyro would rather share silence with someone who was comfortable with it. This left the sniper or the spy.
Tavish sat facing Mundy and the Scout—the least obstructed view—with Scout across the aisle; this kept the Sniper from needing to raise his voice. “I feel mysteriously giddy, and no, I'm not on amphetamines (yet, haw); I've somehow aged without any of the, er, quotidien experience. And I know this should be alarming, but this is quite the opposite. Memories, even the nice ones, are worthless, anyway. Hate to spend a day like this inside.”
The Engineer was too tired to consider the logic of the Russian already being on the train; equally, he was too tired to ignore its illogic. Leave the osseomancy and whatnot with Degroot, (“they're called 'signs and wonders' not 'measurements and conclusions' for a reason.”) though a spectre at the feast would be welcome at this point. He adjusted his limbs until they were only nearly touching the soldier's and basked in the shared radiant heat as they sat side by side.
Jane thought he'd let his hair grow out. This world is running out of room for the sensible; the untamed and disordered obtain a special kind of balance. I imagine that's something out of Ezekiel or Hosea—who can be bothered to read the Prophets, anyway
This is my first TF2chan /afanfic/ thread. So I'm going to be posting my PWP/smut fics for you guys. I originally posted them on 4chan's /y/ board in many parts, but I figured I might as well post them here, too.
These fics aren't meant to have substantial plot, but I tried to pack them with enough description to make them into sweet little bites.
Requests and crit are welcome.
29 Why yes! I've studied it for three years. It's my minor in college, and I'm actually going to be studying just south of Stuttgart soon.
... Did you find any errors? Geez, that'd be embarrassing...
I'm looking for an awesome fic I read several years ago that featured Engineer as the main character, he was like a father figure in the group and took good care of his teammates by fixing things, cooking their favorite foods, etc. Medic was part of the French Legion, people keep assuming he's a Nazi but no one bothers to ask him. Sorry this is so unspecific, those are the most specific things I remember. The whole fic was not fluffy, but peaceful and caring in tone (also multi-part) Thanks people!
where there any pairings in it? that might help narrow down your search more.
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.
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.
Yep. I'm pretty sure they left the fandom for good over a year ago.
Notes: If folks are interested in this, I will continue it.
We're going old-school.
No named characters, no proofreading, no comic canon, final destination.
No warnings until later sexual installments
He knew it was sick.
It was in the way it slouched when it thought no one was looking; the wet sound when it breathed heavily. It took a week before the audible wheezing became evident even when not exerted, and another before the sound of distant coughing began to be heard throughout the base.The sound disturbed Medic from his methodical and careful organization and cleansing of his tools, pushing anger through every vein as the wet distant noise continued to mock him. Sterilizing his neatly lined syringes, he remembered bitterly what had happened in the washroom just a few days prior and cursed when he dropped one of the small cylinders to the floor from the distractions of his musings.
He bent, picking up the larger shards remembering how It too was bent a few days prior. He was in the hall when he heard a thick solid sound strike the tiles of the washroom followed by that familiar damnable coughing. He stuck his head in and saw the red rubbery figure’s back curled forward on one knee, clutching the sink in front of it for dear life. The sound of the wet coughs that struggled through the respirator echoed through the room, as gloved hands instinctively clutched at its throat. When it had noticed it wasn’t alone it looked up and tensed, hands trying to cover a face that was all ready masked, but failing to covering the source of its distress. Medic flinched back in shock and revulsion as strings of mucus and phlegm trickled and bubbled out of the metal ring below its great black eyes with each ragged breath. The horrible thing was drowning on its own phlegm from an ongoing infection that went stubbornly untreated.
Thanks a bunch for the support guys.
Expect an update sometime around the 1st of Dec.
Thanks for the positive feedback ya’ll. Let’s see how far this goes.
Looking for someone to proofread for me. Last installment has as many conflicting proper nouns as a middle schooler essay about God would contain. Send me a note via electronic mail at email@example.com if you wish to ease my grammatical suffering.
They had made it to the top of the stairs when it fainted.
Medic had not been expecting it and nearly lost his footing when the smaller man he was supporting went limp. Swearing, he slowly dipped Pyro’s body to the ground, propping it against the wall so it would not drown it it’s own excretions. Perhaps he over-estimated the dosage? He doubted that, as he was careful to compensate for its reduced height. He guessed the stairs were too much of a strain on an already compromised respiratory system, which matched the horrible sounds that crept through the respirator along with the amount of strain it gave while hauling itself upward. Although he would never openly admit it, he theorized the sedative probably had not helped.
As a final attempt, he bent down and gave the Pyro a hard slap and a forceful shake in hopes it would rouse him. When it remained slack and unresponsive, Medic let out a groan. Despite its small size, Pyro’s weight proved too much for Medic to carry outright, which left him with the dragging option he had threatened mere minutes ago.
He pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation, his head-ache arching in a glorious crescendo in response to the situation. He would have some aspirin and a cup of coffee when he made it back to his office.
Hey, everyone! I hope this is the right place to ask, but I am trying to find a story and . It was about Demo slowly finding his teammate more and attractive over time until he starts to think "Oh shit... am I gay for Sniper?"
For some weird reason, Demoman yelling "I ain't yer mate, MATE!" sticks out in my mind the most. There was also a scene were they went swimming in a river. I know it's a little vague - my memory is quite hazy, but I would love a chance to read it again.
Heavy x Medic medical kink.
Heavy had always had an appreciation for science. As one of four members of the team with a degree, and the only one lacking one in the area of “hard science”, he often listened in on what Medic, Engineer, and Demoman were saying, nodding even if it wasn’t his area of expertise. He at least understood that they did what they did for the betterment of mankind, the team, and for the pursuit of knowledge. And Medic knew that he knew this; he smiled a little over the rims of his spectacles as he watched the Russian listening intently from the corner. It was at that moment that he began making plans.
Medic called Heavy in, as soon as the daily battles had finished, and asked him to remove his trousers. Heavy agreed, pulling them down a bit skeptically, and the doctor nodded and asked him to follow with his underwear. Heavy did as he was asked - he was no stranger to health checks and medical exams - and Medic tried to feign disinterest as best he could as he took the tape measure from his pocket. He first noted down each measurement of the Russian’s penis - impressive in length and girth - then tested his body temperature, heart rate, and so on. And while Heavy was still perched there, half naked on the examination table, Medic had to turn his back as he asked him to masturbate until he was at full erection, so he could compare notes on the before-and-after. Ever the co-operative patient, Heavy simply shrugged. Anything for science.
Heavy was given a chair to sit down on, to make it easier. Medic wasn’t that cruel, to force a man to pleasure himself on that cold table, but he couldn’t help but smirk a little as he… observed. After all, it wasn’t perverse if you took notes. And right now he was noting every detail in the Russian’s face; every gathering bead of sweat, every bite of his lip. Heavy’s hands moved slowly and deliberately, running his thumb and forefinger down the length of his shaft, tugging gently and carefully running his calloused thumb across the tip. But research demanded professionalism. So he quickly proceeded with the rest of the measurements, noting the change in size and curvature, as well as elevated body hea
Pairings: Heavy x Medic, Heavy x Classic Heavy, implied Classic Heavy x Medic
Warnings: Non-con, albeit portrayed more in a dramatic manner instead of a fetishistic one, a bit of voyeurism, violence (sexual and regular violence), some fluff at the end
“Heard your daddy died, little boy. You lookin’ for another one?”
Classic sneered, tracing the line of Misha’s jawline with an ominous smile. His hands snaked down towards that thick, muscular neck, the broad chest, the padded belly over a muscular core. God, he wanted to rip that flak vest off with his fucking teeth. Misha winced, his shoulders tensing, eyebrows furrowed. He was starting to sweat now, but he tried to remain steadfast. He refused to let himself be intimidated– he’d lived through Hell once before. This should be nothing.
Classic knew it’d be a close fight if he used guns or fists. But he’d read up on Misha’s dossier, and knew every button to push, every little tiny insignificant thing that riled him up. And man, wouldn’t it be great to reduce the largest man he knew to a submissive, powerless little thing? Pair of panties with a great big cock straining against them, so turned on but so ashamed of how much he loved his predecessor spanking his ass, crying because he found the one pair of handcuffs he couldn’t break. Inch by inch, Classic cornered Misha against the wall, hissing as he ran his hand up against the Russian’s cock.
“You big baby.”
This was amazing. Both of them. Everything is described beautifully and lively. The character personalities are just right and I never thought "This is something the real characters would never do". Well done. I do hope to read more Heavy/Medic from you in the future.
(includes voyeurism, Scoutma/other, being-drugged-with-prior-consent-established, and all the obvious reasons not to read this filth)
When he looked back on that night later, he couldn't remember what he'd needed from her room, that had had him searching her closet. He'd been too old to be trying to get a peek at Christmas presents, and anyway, it had been spring.
It was before RED, before he'd made the decision to leave home like that, and all he can really remember was that he'd been far enough in her closet when he heard her come home, that it seemed like hiding there was the best plan.
She didn't stumble in alone, though he hadn't been able to see much of her date. Tall, broad-shouldered... well, not too broad-shouldered, but when he compared the man to himself, or to pictures around the house of his father, that was how he seemed, broad-shouldered. Dressed like any man might be for a night out, in a dark suit, but with the lights out, he was swallowed in shadow.
He kissed at her neck, and he seemed to stay in shadow even when the streetlight out her window bathed her in warm, soft light. Like she was in a spotlight, always, and the Scout knew then he should have looked away, stuck his fingers in his ears or something and closed his eyes, and waited it out. But it was the closest he'd ever been to a naked girl, watching a pair of big, square hands strip away her flimsy dress. It was such a warm spring night, and the dress looked like nothing in the man's hands, like he could have torn it off, torn it to pieces.
He'd whispered questions that the Scout didn't understand, about whether or not 'it' was kicking in, and he watched, his Ma's skin glowing in the hazy light, as she slowly went limp as a doll in the man's arms.
He didn't have much of a view, when the man laid her on the bed, the shadows fell in such a way that the Scout couldn't see much, hard as he tried to focus. He could see her breasts move when she breathed deep, and the way she was sprawled out, but not half the things he wanted to see. The shame of it burned, but not
I'm sorry, this is the only thing I thought during reading this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C9fgFTyzE_o
It was well written, though. If I should choose ONE male to pair with Scout's mother, yeah, that'd be Scout himself.
Hello tf2chan, new here. I'm a fanfiction writer looking to expand my horizons, and since I've been on a tf2 fanfiction kick lately I'm opening up for anon requests. But this time, I'd like to go beyond typical vanilla NSFW and open myself up to other types of kinks/fetishes/forms of sexual expression in literature.
Long story short, tell me what you wanna see. I predominantly lean towards Medic and Sniper stuff, but can certainly expand beyond those characters if need be.
I do draw the lines at underage things/or anything with legality issues. But you all already know that. I may be reluctant to go for requests involving scat or water sports, as I don't necessarily have a propensity for that kind of fetish either.
But forget that. I'll write what inspires me, so let's see what you lot can come up with. You can also suggest possible story lines as well, which can be incorporated into your anon request.
Ready, set-- request!
My life is getting better, actually. I'm doing fine. Just experiencing a little internal conflict as all-- I've got a good foot in a few other fandoms now and have a lot of other projects going on, so I've sort of dropped this thread-- I didn't think anyone'd miss me too much, and I'm sorry for getting back so late. Had I known I'd have at least left a status update.
I guess part of me kind of abandoning the thread is just that it takes a lot of effort to write requests, I might've bitten off a bit more than I could chew honestly.
I do miss this place, and you guys too though. It makes me happy that people have enjoyed my writing and I feel bad I've disappeared off the face of the earth for so long, so I feel like I can be persuaded to come back... but requests will have to be shorter if I'm to get to them all.
Sorry to all the later request-ees for getting the short end of the stick.
I mean there's also transferring to the t umblr medium too, but that option remains to be seen.
Any thoughts, for those that are still around?
Hello, Harlequin! It's nice to see you back! As for all the requests, it's totally understandable with what you're doing. I'd be very happy to have your tumblr so I can read more of your writing!
She didn't think the Administrator knew. She hoped she didn't know...
After her ad in the paper failed to bring in any remotely suitable lovers, Miss Pauling was starting to feel desperate. There was only so much she could do for herself-- orgasms, sure, but it would have been nice to get some foreplay with someone. It would have been nice to get held after. It would be nice to just let loose with another human being for once instead of taking a glass of wine into the bathtub and going to bed alone with an old issue of Guns and Haircuts for Women.
She considers herself a modern woman. An independent woman. She doesn't mind the idea of dying alone and unwed, with or without a cat or twelve, as long as the ride there is fulfilling. She just needs a dose of that fulfillment.
When her job takes her back to the bases and the RED Scout offers to take his shirt off for her, the desperation has set in. He's not her type, but he's willing, and he's not bad to look at... and she knows not a single soul will believe him if he does go blabbing.
She lets him fuck her in an outbuilding, glad that the teams have been moved away from Teufort-- a move initially made because the townsfolk were complaining, but the new bases they occupy have so many more little places to get away to, places where no one goes looking.
His kisses are sloppy, but she doesn't mind. It's passion, at least, and he's a fast learner. She has condoms in her purse, and his eyes widen at that, but he doesn't say a word. He had grown used to the brush-off, and she offers a whole new world. There's an old bench, and she pushes him to lie on his back, lets him paw at her breasts while she rides him, her dress rucked up but never removed. There is no clean place for it.
Her panties she tucks in her purse, puts them back on after, after cleaning off with a wad of tissues-- also in her purse, along with a compact mirror, a coin purse, a checkbook, a pen, her driver's license, and a very large handgun.
As far as sex goes, it's unsatisfying, though she doesn't say as much. She doesn't know if she
Miss Pauling has no idea where the Spy found his 'venue', but she's impressed. The room he shows her to is comfortable, nicely-if-minimally appointed. It's dominated by two things-- a bed large enough for maybe five people, and a mirror that stretches across the wall.
The Scout's mother is already there, lounging on the bed in a flimsy negligee-- shocking pink, and Pauling thinks it suits her just as well as the blue dress she'd seen her in before.
The Spy can't help himself. When they enter the room, he goes straight to the woman's side, for a brief, gentle kiss and a caress to match. But he doesn't undress. He's just as buttoned-up and crisp as ever when he pulls away.
"Make yourself comfortable." He flashes Miss Pauling a smile. "And I'll bring in your first guests..."
She's pleased to see Tavish come in, when the Spy returns, and with him the RED Engineer.
"I will be right here." The Spy says, his attention largely on the Scout's mother. "If anything is too much, you say one word, and it stops. I will bring you a bathrobe, and a drink, and then I will show you the bath, and send the others to a place where they can pay someone to take care of them."
"Shush." She pats his cheek, smiling over at the two newcomers. "I'll be just fine. How about you, hon?"
"I'll be fine." Miss Pauling nods. "I do know everyone, I think?"
8:05 PM - Contra: I mean, on the bright side, hell yeah, money
8:05 PM - Contra: but if I woke up this morning
8:05 PM - Contra: knowing I was going to meet a zombie fetishist
8:06 PM - Contra: who would commission me to write a fic about the engineer molesting a spy he thinks is his sentry
8:06 PM - Contra: I dunno
8:06 PM - Contra: if I've learned anything about life today is that you never know where it takes you
8:07 PM - Contra: and today it's taken me into the arena of "writing horrible porn for money"
Story idea is from this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8A-3i1NqsA
Every now and then, Dell Conagher, the BLU Engineer, takes it upon himself to work on his various sentry "base models". These base models are fully-functional prototypes of sorts that are used as a baseline for the toolboxes the Engie manufactures to create his sentries on the field. The modifications he makes to these are used by the sentries that both he and his RED clone use on a daily basis, fighting in the Badlands. He's heard whispers around that soon the Spy was acquiring new models of his various guns and watches, which were likely to provide a significant upgrade to his capabilities. Not to mention the Demoman's drunken screaming about losing the proper casing for his Loch-n-Load grenades, which would apparently make them less effective on enemies?
Dell shrugged. He never really understood how that worked or why people's weapons seemed to all start functioning radically differently at around the same times, and he thought it best not to think too far into it. Whatever balancing act was at play must have been a coincidence, and even if it wasn't, it was hardly a practical problem a lone Engineer could get to the bottom of- so he chose to disregard it and keep at work on his machines.
Dell opened the door to his garage, flipping a light switch to his left, which illuminated the place, revealing his four base model sentries, neatly assembled in a line in the middle of the room. From left to right was the Mini Sentry
Oh my god. I didn't know something like this could be done, but you did it. I salute you, Contra.
As the title says, looking for any recs of Medic/Scout. I've never used tf2chan before and I don't know if there's a tag search or anything.
I don't care what the fic is about. All kinks welcome(except necrophilia). No holds barred. Looking for fics that make /afanfic/ live up to its name.
Quick-Fix is such a rare pairing that I've read all the ones on ao3 and ffn, as well as dA.
I like using Achievement names for ship nicknames. So Medic/Scout (either way) is "You'll Feel a Little Prick".
Ship names I remember offhand, but am not really a huge fan of (in terms of what they're called):
Science Party (Medic x Engineer-- I don't think it fits)
Fruit Scones (Soldier x Medic-- I don't get it)
Helmet Party (Soldier x Engineer-- every class has a helmet at this point)
Soldier x Zhanna, only because it's not called 'Jane Doe and Dem Tits Doe'
Ship names I actually really like:
Swordvan (Demo x Sniper)
Trucks and Vans (Sniper x Engineer, though Engie rarely drives a truck in canon, if at all)
Birds and Bears/Red Oktoberfest (Heavy x Medic)
Swing and A Miss (Scout x Miss Pauling)
Russian Violet (Pauling/Heavy)
A few other ship names I've stumbled across:
Engineer x Scout - Texan Two-Step
Soldier x Spy - Freedom Fries
Merasmus x Soldier - Magic Missiles
Cute and fitting.
A few ship names I just made up:
Soldier x Heavy - Stars and Sickles
Soldier x Medic - Bad Bedside Manner, Brute Head Trauma
Scout x Soldier - Rocket Double Jump, Long Way Down, Helmets n' Headsets
Blu Engineer/Red Spy rape fic
Unfinished as of yet.
(Corrected with Canadian spelling)
You know the cruelty of human nature better than most; you have an intimate relationship with the type of brutality that greed and desperation breed. You have travelled far and wide and have concluded that, no matter where you go, you can never out run the waves of regret that follow.
The men at 2Fort are a prime example of this.
Take, for instance, the Engineer.
In battle he could be described as a frantic war machine, building his own small army of death and rebirth. He is the king to his own little kingdom, and trespassers are never welcome. He can be seen setting up teleport machines, turrets and dispensers where ever he sees most fit, weaving in and out of battle and dodging projectiles while lugging the heavy burdens. His methods are never fully explained but always effective.
He isn’t just for defence either; with that new arm of his, he can also be seen darting to the front lines with a mini sentry - even during the small respites of battle he could be seen doing something, and it is usually done with the intention of killing you and your teammates.
Oh my goodness. It's been 3 years since this was updated but holy crap is it good. I don't know if you will continue this but I really hope you.
I don't even know if they're in the fandom anymore. Please don't bump dead fics.