|1||Monomania (SniperxSpy)||1||21 June 2016 08:08|
|2||Avian's Fic Thread||7||17 April 2016 21:12|
|3||Afterwards, cont'd.||193||24 March 2016 01:52|
|4||Where Can I Find the Lost Solly Swan Fanfic||1||14 February 2016 02:41|
|5||Looking for a lost/deleted fanfic||15||9 February 2016 07:45|
|6||The Lessons v2.1 - HOLY SHIT NEW CHAPTERS||19||9 February 2016 07:42|
|7||[Dreams do come true~] Sniper x fpov (first point of view, "I",||2||18 January 2016 03:55|
|8||Dotchan's Massive Text Tump Thread||125||6 January 2016 00:31|
|9||Medic Drops Acid||16||12 November 2015 03:27|
|10||Something To Remember Me By (Scout Feels Fic)||1||9 November 2015 22:34|
|11||Scar Tissue (Engineer/Pyro)||5||13 August 2015 01:18|
|12||Meda's Assorted Fic Thread||6||13 August 2015 01:06|
|13||The TF2's have dinner||22||30 December 2014 14:57|
|14||Gutes Tun (TF2 Medic Fanfic)||3||3 December 2014 11:29|
|15||An Unusual Evening in Stuttgart||4||3 December 2014 11:24|
|New Thread | All Threads|
After some to and fro I decided to upload my fanfiction here - it's my first ff since 9 years! Also, this story is a slow-build, so don’t expect to have the main action right away!
Pairing? Yes! PWP ? Absolutely not!
This story will focus on psychology and mystery, maybe count it as a psychodrama as well.
"The things that go through your mind as sanity tries to leave it. None of the mercenaries had ever guessed that a sudden death could change their life so much. What goes through your mind, when life can't be taken for granted anymore?"
"Battle begins in 10 minutes!"
There it was. The Announcer's voice made everyone prick up their ears, Soldier already getting up, fury in his face.
"Let's go, maggots! And don't you dare to be late again, Private Scout!" he yelled, filling the room with his fiery voice.
This is my first time writing TF2 fics so feedback and critique would be very appreciated. If you guys like what I do, I'll post more.
Robots. Who would have thought? The Engineer lifted his goggles and rubbed his eyes, vision blurring from staring too long at blueprints and drafts. New enemies meant new upgrades, which meant more work on Engie’s part. Schematics and papers spilled across his worktables and crumpled rejects overflowed from the trash bin.
Perhaps it was lack of sleep that made it so hard to focus. Perhaps it was the fact their jobs were on the line. Maybe it was the threat of the family that had formed disappearing. Whatever the reason, Engie wasn’t getting any work done tonight. He organized his things, stacking papers and packing away tools. There was the possibility that they would have to leave Teufort, abandon the base in favor of defending better locations. Engie stowed away whatever wasn’t of immediate use in crates, in case it ever came down to that. Dusting off his hands, Engie turned around and nearly collided with Pyro.
“Sweet baby Christ, Pyro, don’t scare a man like that,” said Engie, shaking his head. A lesser man would have jumped, but he was used to spies sneaking up on him. Pyro merely tilted his head, blank circles staring back at him. Engie sighed and started for his room. With any luck, he’d finally get some shuteye.
A gloved hand stopped him, tugging on his sleeve. Engie looked over his shoulder to see Pyro holding a drawing scribbled in bright crayon. Taking the drawing, Engie cracked a smile.
“This another one of yours, Pyro?” Pyro nodded. “Well then, I’d say it’s good enough to go on the fridge, don’t you think?” Pyro hopped up and down, mumbling excitedly.
They walked up from Engie’s garage to the team’s living quarters. Hazy light filtered in through the windows, the sun barely beginning to peak over the horizon, and Engie wondered just how much sleep he was gonna get.
Sniper was unbearably cold. It was only flurries coming down at Coldfront but the area was living up to its name. Even through all his layers, Sniper could feel the chill and the damp seeping into his skin from lying prone in the snow for so long. He took a quick look through his scope. The team had managed to push the BLU’s back and he could see Engie setting up on the middle point.
Sniper nodded to himself, set his rifle down for a moment and sat up. He took off his gloves and pulled down the mouth cover of his Anger hood, bleached white to blend with the snow. Breathing warm air onto his hands, he flexed and curled his fingers, cringing at the lack of feeling in the digits. He smacked his hands against his chest and thighs until he got some tingling, stabbing sensation back in them. Then he slid his gloves back on and pulled up his mouth cover and nestled down with his rifle once more. He lightly rubbed the trigger, making sure he could still feel it against his fingers. Sniper focused through his scope, taking slow, steady breaths.
It had taken him some time to learn how to keep himself from shivering too much and get clean shots. Heavy had given him plenty of advice on how to deal with such temperatures and Sniper took it all to heart. He had respect for any man that could destroy a gulag. He listened to Heavy to tell stories of the strange things that happen when it gets this cold, like how blood will freeze before it hits the ground. Man wasn’t meant to survive in such environments. Sniper took that as a challenge.
The BLU team was now retaliating, and the RED team had fallen back, leaving the middle point open. The twerp of a BLU Scout ran ahead of his team to take the point. Sniper smiled, lining up his shot. He always gave the jackrabbit a little extra lead to match his speed. Right as Sniper squeezed the trigger, the Scout jumped. Instead of a headshot, Sniper got a charged bodyshot straight to the kid’s chest. He grumbled, knocking back the bolt of his gun to reload and set up for another shot.
The damn Scout caught onto him, dancing off the point towards his team, shouting something Sniper couldn’t quite make out
New content? In my TF2chan? It's more likely than you think.
Needle Pt. 1
Sniper waved to Scout as he raced inside with the intelligence on his back. As soon as Scout got to the intelligence room the match would be over for the day, so Sniper began packing his things and climbing down from his perch. It was a hot day and he sighed in relief as he got to the air-conditioned resupply room. The rest of the team filtered in as well, shucking off their gear and setting it in their cubbies.
Scout walked in and was greeted with quiet cheers and slaps on the back. “Good job, mate,” said Sniper as the speedster hung up his headset. Scout shrugged.
“Slow as fuck today. They weren’t even trying to give us a hard time.” He made a face, brushing the dust from his clothes.
“Life isn’t a race, and the moment you figure that out you’ll be better off.” Sniper took off his boots, grimacing at the blisters and sores on his feet. He pulled a small crate from his cubby. It was full of glass jars with crushed plant matter, various salves and poultices he’d made.
Scout gagged. “Yeah, right. Have fun with that, roo-fucker.” Sniper glared at him until he slunk away. He shook his head and lit a cigarette. The boy would learn eventually.
Now he was the only merc left in the room, and it was quiet and still. He focused on the task at hand, plucking a sewing needle from his vest pocket, stabbing one of the sores on his feet to drain it. His mum would have his ass for picking at wounds like a mangy cat, but she herself had taught him how to clean it and bandage it. She was the one who showed him what plants were good for mixing into a paste. Medic couldn’t be bothered to handle every minor injury, so the knowledge came in handy even here. The medicine didn’t smell the greatest, but he could feel the pain lessen as he smeared a poultice on his blisters. He wrapped his feet in gauze, wiggling and flexing his awkward toes.
Hey everybody! The last thread for Afterwards is now no longer bumping, so it's time for a new thread.
Don't forget to read Reunion here: http://dotchan.com/?p=1876
And Afterwards parts 1-12 here: http://dotchan.com/?p=2096
Sorry about the amount of time that goes between updates, hopefully the wait will be shorter next time.
“… And that’s about everything I know about it, really.” Engineer gave a sigh. “I was hopin’ this would be about where you’d come in…”
“I see,” said Ilse. She took a sip of her coffee, her expression hard to read; straight-faced as usual. “Zis is all… very interesting.”
Cat has been working very hard on a piece of original fiction lately.
Pretty much, yeah. I've pretty much lost all interest in writing this fic and it's better to focus on original stuff anyway.
I've got a tag for my new story on my Tumblr if anybody is interested. Heads up though, it is so, so NSFW.
Thank you all for your feedback and support. You guys are great.
Alright, so this is a bit of a long shot but I was hoping someone might have this story stored on their hard drive somewhere. It was some kind of Twilight mashup where Soldier played Bella and Scout played Edward. I think there were zombies in there too somewhere, but I can't really remember.
Hey guys, a few weeks ago a fic was deleted and I was hoping if someone knew either if it has been posted somewhere else or maybe why it was deleted?
I can't remember the name of it for the life of me, but it was a series of one-shots about a fem!RED pyro and her interactions with the team. It's a bit of a typical OOC fic, but if you've found it, or anything like it, I'd appreciate it!
>>12 Thank you so much! That means a whole lot to me! Thank you!
I kind of want to read that "Broken Past" fanfic but the links aren't working :( Anyone know where I can find it please?
SO WHO REMEMBERS THIS RIDICULOUSLY LONG TF2 FANFIC THAT I STARTED WRITING LITERALLY YEARS AGO AND STILL HAVEN’T FINISHED YET? BECAUSE I FINISHED A NEW CHAPTER.
If you haven’t read the rest of this series, you can find it here: http://tf2chan.net/fanfic/res/657.html
You should probably read the other chapters first, or the stuff happening in this chapter won’t make a whole lot of sense. That thread stopped bumping ages ago because it went over the post limit, so here you go, have a new thread. Comment in this one, not the old one, or I probably won't see it, and that would make me very sad indeed.
Someone paid me to write this, I should mention. I’ve been wanting to do it for a long time but unfortunately I just haven’t felt as though I have time for anything that I’m not getting paid for recently, so if it wasn’t for the wonderful person who paid me real, actual money to finish a new chapter in this fic, it would probably never have happened.
I want to finish the whole thing - there’s at least one more chapter to come - but I don’t know how long it’s going to take for it to happen. I’m sorry for that. Things are getting better now, so I’ll do my best.
Just enjoy what I have managed to write in the meantime, okay? Thanks for being so patient, everyone, and if you want to catch up with me at all you can find me far more easily at drtanner.tumblr.com, or alternatively, at drtanner-sfw.tumblr.com if you prefer your blogging experience not to be full of men's asses and dicks and men kissing other men.
I love you.
Honestly if we all got together and paid him $100 to finish this... i would definitely pitch in the money.
Ayy! I asked Tanner about it on his tumblr, and he replied!
I'm sorry if this comes off as annoying, or you get asked this a million times a day, but.. What happened to your TF2 fan-fic, The Lessons? You left us at a cliffhanger, and it wouldn't hurt to provide a small update on TF2Chan. At least tell us how the story was supposed to go.."
"Hey there! I actually don’t get asked this a lot, and to be honest, I’m always a little surprised when people send me messages about Lessons because I’d assumed that no one was interested in it anymore - hence the lack of updates.
However! Since a few folks have enquired politely over the last couple of weeks, I do intend to finish it in the near future, if I can, and I’ll be hosting it on AO3 at any rate, since some have asked if there’s somewhere other than TF2chan for them to read it.
I’ll keep you posted!"
so very first fan fiction i wrote a fair while back last year and i decided to spruce it up a little and post it .-. hopefully you people like it :) let me know what you think and where i could improve. Thanks
Have fun reading!
TF2 original sniperxFPOV/reader fanfiction story written by PieSky~
I always enjoyed the early hours of the morning. How it was so calm and refreshing to the mind, allowing deeper thoughts to flow through with ease; pushing out the stress of each day. The air inside the base was cool and had settled slowly, giving an eerily quiet atmosphere. It had the recognizable sweet and musky scent of spy's fancy French air spray as he tends to spray it around the base every night so he doesn't have to wake up to, and i quote him, . considering that the entire base is full of men and then there is also me. i don't blame him. In fact, i whole heatedly thank him for the gift of not having my nostrils assaulted each morning. I let out a deep seeded chuckle under my breath and sighed. My breath rose in front of my eyes; it looked like a cloud. I liked how cold air did that to warm air.
I stood in the middle of the lounge room and closed my eyes; completely plummeting my sight into darkness. deep and wondrous thoughts flooded my mind and i wrapped my arms around my waist, gently swaying to the music playing inside my head.
[A/N: Make you feel by Alina Baraz and Galimatias]
Just when i felt as though i was more relaxed than i had ever been and i had entered a Dream state, the sudden sound of a vehicle broke my trance and sprung me right into action.
what the hell.. no one is supposed to be out at this time..in fact everyone here is asleep
This is mostly generic feedback, I don't have the mental energy to do a line by line thing right now.
1) Lack of proper capitalization/punctuation--if nothing else, please fix that.
2) Anachronisms--TF2 canon puts the timeline somewhere around 1960s/1970s America in terms of society, plus some modern and futuristic technology.
3) Lack of information about the POV character--how long have they been around? Wouldn't they have known that Sniper has a penchant for creeping around at odd hours? What's their relationship with the team as a whole and vice versa?
4) Sniper feels out of character for me. He's a guy who claims to be a consummate professional--and nothing's more unprofessional than workplace romance. So how'd he get to the point of thinking it might be a good idea to kiss the POV character, even if it's in the dead of night? (He didn't even check if there were any snooping Spies about, or see if they were being filmed by the eleventy billion cameras the Administrator has lying around.)
New board + new thread = copy pasta of old stuff that I was sort of working on.
The now ex-Pyro stared back like a deer in the headlights, her mouth opening and closing several times before any words could come out. "What? Why?"
The Announcer rolled her eyes and exhaled a long stream of smoke. "It's in the rulebook under 'Don't Have Sex With the Enemy'. Look it up."
"I am well aware of the so-called 'extenuating circumstances', because otherwise you would have just been shown the door with no hope of ever regaining meaningful employment anywhere in the world. All the arrangements have already been made." The Announcer gestured, and the suited escorts made their presence known once more. "Your personal affects will be sent to you via parcel post."
The Announcer drummed her fingers on the table while she waited for the room to clear, tuning out the feeble protests. Then she pressed the buzzer to call the next offender into her office.
The first time the Pyro failed to return to base along with the rest of the team, they had assumed that she was chasing down stragglers to give them one last well-deserved toasting before the round ended and went about their business. It wasn't until almost a week later, when a thorough search of the territories they controlled turned up empty that any of them thought to check the video feeds being sent back to Headquarters for evaluation, and that was when they realized that the last mission the Pyro was seen participating in had been a trap laid by the other side to capture her.
Ah. Alright. I was just looking for some free exposure, and I've been told that if I want my writing and art taken seriously, I can't show my prospective employers my Tumblr.
Still creatively dead-ish (I did spawn a few plot bunnies while laid up sick in bed with a nasty upper respiratory tract infection, but none of them are TF2-related, alas), but I finally got around to finishing the content integration and switched to the new look (voted for by you all).
In addition to all of the original content that was in the old gallery, I found some fanart that I never scanned in and added that as well, so please drop by http://dotchan.com to take a look at it all (insert epeen joke here).
This was supposed to be a continuation ‘fic where Sniper has Feels About His Parents, but my brain’s hit its limit for now. Feel free to continue this where I left off.
Like hell Tavish was going to let Harry go off on his own and deal with the aftermath of the mess that his parents (either ones) left behind. Not after everything they went through together. Not when Tavish knew Harry well enough to be all but certain that the other man was not handling anything well. The death of his parents, finding out that he was adopted from their last will and testament, and then getting abandoned to his doom by his birth ones--any one of those things alone would’ve brought him grief, and he’d gotten slammed with all three in rapid succession. So no matter how much Harry insisted he was fine and everything would be fine once everything would be settled and they went back to work, Tavish was having none of it. And if Tavish was going, then so was Jane, who still wasn't convinced that the two best friends turned brief enemies had reconciled over being turned against each other. And if Jane was going, then so was Zhanna, despite Jane's insistence that he didn't need a nursemaid. And if Zhanna was going, then so was Misha,who got in a similar argument with Zhanna over whether or not he was treating his little sister like a baby. And if Misha was going, then so was Ferdinand, unrepentant as ever about offering his services to Grey Mann. (Nevertheless, once the initial shock of finding out what he had been doing while everyone else was unemployed faded away, they realized that had not betrayed any personal confidences and didn’t hold the temporary switch in surface loyalties against him.) And if at least half of the team was going to be together in one place, then Ms. Pauling decided she may as well follow along so she could make sure that they ended up where they were supposed to be on time. And if Ms. Pauling was going, then so was Jacob, even though he still wasn't able to get a straight answer out of her, and so was Chris, even though he still wasn't able to go on a date with her. And with at least eight peo
The other working titles for this story were 'Medic's Wacky Acid Adventures' and 'Drugs Don't Make you Cool'.
It's just a little something I wrote to celebrate Meet The Medic. Wasn't that awesome guys?
Yes it was.
Medic Drops Acid
Using an eyedropper, Medic measured precisely 500 micrograms of Lysergic Acid Diethylamide into a small glass vial. The potent substance clung to the smooth walls of the glass. How interesting it was that such a tiny amount of this diabolical chemical could cause so much trouble.
Heavy sat in the corner of the cluttered operating room. He watched Medic’s movements anxiously. “This drug. It is dangerous?”
“Pah!” Medic waved away Heavy’s concern. “I can assure you zhat it is an entirely non toxic substance. Vhy, zhere are probably more carcinogens in zhose ‘sandvitches’ you consume so regularly.”
What are you even talking about Marty? Some of your stuff has made me fall out of my seat.
This was massively amusing and very well written! Your descriptions are also very close to my experience with taking acid.
A/N: So I found this fanfiction on the fucknobadtf2fanfiction t-um-blr (/post/38824017725/an-emotional-and-tragic-tf2-fanfic) and got inspired to re-write it myself, and before I knew it this turned into... something. I'm not sure what it is yet but I'm actually kind of proud of it and figured I'd share it, because why not. So here it is:
Something To Remember Me By: P1
The harsh biting wind and the cold melting snow that seeped into his boots once again reminded Scout that winter had arrived, and why he despised the season.
"Dammit Heavy! Can't we go back now?" Scout said in exasperation, his bad mood further fouled by the uncomfortable weather. Irately, Scout shook more snow off of his hood, brushing it out of his eyes, and kicking it off of his boots-- sending flurries of snow everywhere, much to Heavy's chagrin.
"No," Heavy replied bluntly, masking his annoyance with his younger companion, "We must keep going until we get to the cabin."
Scout scowled at the Russian's response, further taking his restlessness out on the spread of snow in front of him, pulverizing the white powder under his feet and wishing dearly that he never agreed to accompany Heavy. It seemed (to him, at least) that they had been enduring the bitter cold for an eternity in the snow-congested little town (although in actuality, it was only three blocks). He continued to sulk to himself, until he caught the vague, blurry shape of a house not too far away.
"S'that it? Man, please tell me that's it..." Scout said, more to himself than to Heavy. Heavy overheard, and nodded affirmatively. In response, Scout galloped and ran towards the cabin that slowly came into focus through the barrage of snow, fighting the thick ice that covered the ground all the way. He had some difficulty opening the front door, flinging himself against it to force the door open, but when Heavy caught up, he only had to turn the knob and push the ancient door open on its old and rusting hinges.
"Oh. I uh, thought it was locked..." Scout muttered, slightly embarrassed. He
Engineer and Pyro have a little heart-to-heart. Fluff, I guess.
Jesus, I've had this thing on the backburner (durr hurr) for about a year now. How does one suck any more than I do already
A heavy sigh slipped from Engineer’s lazily parted lips, barely audible over the hiss of running water. The man relaxed in the moment, thankful for the jets of pure, hot bliss working their magic on his aching muscles. Between the steamy air that rehydrated his respiratory system and the constant white noise of the showerhead, the long day of warring over barren land was easily forgotten.
Peering at his surroundings, Engineer internally rejoiced at this rare chance for total solitude. The thought of raucous laughter and chatter competing with running showerheads in the tiled echo chamber was enough to make him wince.
Shaking off the imagined cacophony, Engineer angled the shower head to direct the stream closer to the wall. He then eased himself down to the tiled floor, sitting cross-legged beneath the water. Smiling at this simple indulgence of his, he wriggled in place to best sit comfortably. Within the minute, he was leaning heavily against the wall at his back, fighting to keep heavy eyelids open. The struggle didn’t last long, and soon the engineer was lost in a sleep irresistibly warm and incredibly deep.
When he finally awoke, it was with a jerk and bout of shuddering. The water had long turned cold, showering him at increasingly cooler temperatures for so long that he hadn’t noticed his drop in core temperature. Shivering uncontrollably, Engineer carefully braced himself against the wall as he made to stand. Even the simple act of getting up was enough to make his head spin, at which he instinctively pressed himself against the tiles for balance. He snatched his towel from the nearby hook with his good hand, wrapping it around his body and pulling the fluffy fabric taut against his arms and chest. It brought him slight relief, and with the ends of the towel tucked under each arm, he shuffled for the locker room on unsteady legs.
Wonderful. I thought it was clever how you used the introduction with the cold shower to set the tone of the situation.
"Even the simple act of getting up was enough to make his head spin, at which he instinctively pressed himself against the tiles for balance." This kind of extra detail brought your descriptions to life.
Thankyou for writing this!
Dang Mawaru, this is pretty sweet! In the California way, not the sugar way. I really should poke around on the fanfic threads more often.
I liked how you didn't explain straightaway what was on Engie's back and shoulders; it was an instant hook that made me want to keep reading.
Makes me wonder what scars look like in pyrovision...
Title: A Bit of Friendly Competition, or, Hungry Like The Wolf
Fandom/Pairing: Sniper x Demoman (same-faction), with a brief appearance by Helen/The Administrator
Notes/Content Warnings: Werewolves/monster boys, brief mention of alcohol, hunting/non-human blood, worksafe slashfic, fluff. Inspired by Luna's “Monsterous Intent” AU.
After the insufferable, stifling cacophony and heat of a Teufort summer day, the cool, eerily silent nights were a welcome reprieve for Mr. Mundy. He sat, long legs dangling over the side of his van, focusing intently through his scope, refusing to move a muscle unless he absolutely had to. Mundy and his lover, a Dr. Tavish DeGroot, were the sole members of Teufort’s Supernatural Hunt & Capture Squad. Due to Mundy’s former profession as a big game hunter, and Tavish’s eerie ability to attract all manner of were, vampire, garuda, jotun, faun, or pixie, Helen had slipped the two of them a nice, healthy bonus whenever something not-quite-mundane came up, so long as they could eliminate it.
And tonight, the prey was Jackalopes. An important data transfer had failed to show up, and Helen had discovered, to her horror, that the wee beasties had gnawed straight through her computer cables. Mundy boasted that even in the dark, he could bring home more prey with his gun than his were-boyfriend could, even with his night-vision and claws. With a wry smile on his jowl, and a mischievous twinkle in his remaining eye, Tavish agreed.
A sole bunny darted out of its hole, sniffed the air, and before Tavish could pounce, immediately slumped to the ground. One shot. Tavish rolled his eye at his partner, who doffed his hat, egging him on. The entire night went on like this, Tavish cursing his hangover, but managing to snag a few kills away from Mundy, whose fist clenched in playful competition. This went on until sunrise, with Mundy’s kills neatly stashed away, arranged in size from horn to tail, while Tavish’s, to be expected, were a bit messier, generally with jaw and claw marks lining the neck, instead of Mundy’s neat little headshots. Helen was impressed, a faint smile causing her gaunt cheeks to crease. She lik
I think this is the only transsexual Heavy I've ever seen written, and written thoughtfully at that! Well done. I especially appreciated the line "What is underneath would not be the same", since this observes that transsexualism isn't about clothes. I also liked how you described Heavy's breathing using the simile "as if a heavy weight was lying on top of it", and appealed to the senses with "There was a shuffling of the mattress".
There's a small thing about this fic which reads a little awkwardly to me: the speed at which Medic concludes that Heavy is a woman, and immediately suggests preparing hormones and surgery. I'm not sure he necessarily had enough information to go on to determine that a) Heavy is transsexual, and b) she wanted hormones and surgery. If he already had suspicions (which he might well, given how smoothly he took it), a paragraph or two focusing on what he's noticed in the past would improve the cohesion of the story.
Overall, it's incredibly refreshing to see a story which acknowledges that being a human tank (or having any other physical shape, for that matter) doesn't disqualify a person from being trans. Thankyou for writing!
Same (except for the one you drew me, heh-- thanks again). I like adding detail that makes you feel like you're there, too. When I'm anxious, I feel like someone's sitting on top of me, so I drew from that.
I'm still dealing with my own gender and what I may or may not be, so I apologize that the conclusion wraps up too neatly. Wishful thinking, maybe.
And thank you! It bugs me a little when trans headcanons are limited to only characters that only seem "the most likely to pass", or assuming "feminine" traits in a man or "masculine" traits in a woman automatically = trans.
Dearest TF2chanlings, whilst working on a t-shirt design, I found this gem of a "wtf-fic" on the Steam forums.
"The TF2's have dinner" by Bobby Road.
They go to TGIF.
Scout orders a pepsi and a chicken nugget.
Soldier has a beer and steak.
Pyro just drink.
Demoman has pasta and alcohol drink.
Heavy orders two things cause he is fat.
Engineer a briskit.
Medic is eat fried steak.
Sniper has fried steak too, its good. And coffee cause he's tired.
Spy has oyster and French drink.
Honestly I could just imagine Engineer's a briskit. It's just so damn funny I'll laugh myself to Half-Life 3
(Author's Note:) I'd always suspected the Medic was based on the many infamous mad doctors from Germany during WW2, and after learning of the game's time period, it only confirmed it for me. I guess you could call this somewhat of a "head cannon" to the Medic's backstory.
The Hippocratic Oath states: "First, do no harm." That's the solemn vow every medical practitioner must make. It's a promise to retain the health of the people, to preserve their life and not cause any additional harm of your own. It's an oath I have taken, and it's the oath I live by; just as my father did before me. I was no more than a young boy when I took that oath, and I will forever remember the day my father did the honor of initiating me into the world of medicine.
My father was rarely at home when I was young. Practically from the moment of my birth, he was gone on long trips of business for months on end. I only saw him on the holidays, or the sparse few weeks he would return to our cottage outside of Stuttgart to be with us. My mother explained very early on that I should be proud of my father's absence, because the reason for it was his respected position as a surgeon; travelling to various cites all across Germany and Austria to heal people who needed him.
Due to this, I would eagerly await my father's return so I could ask him about all the places he had visited and the people he had saved. I don't know why I did in retrospect, because he never answered any of my questions. All he would do when I asked him about his travels was pat my head and hand me a gift he had bought me from where he had been. Despite this, I kept asking. When time after time yielded no results, I changed my inquiries from questions about his travels, to requests to join him on his travels. I wanted to see these places myself if he wouldn't tell me himself.
The first time I asked him, I was met with a harsh rejection. He told me I was too young to go anywhere but school, and then left the next morning. Still, I never stopped asking. For years I per
Medic isn't a Nazi (at least that much was confirmed by Valve), so I've always figured he had no sense of superiority. At least, not racial superiority.
I've got two questions:
1) Why keep "gutes tun" in German? Since I'm assuming the entire dialogue is in German, having that bit there kind of breaks immersion.
2) Where's a little bit of Black Humor and Mood Whiplash to balance the starkness of the narrative? That's something I believe should be present in every Team Fortress 2 'fic regardless of topic or tone. Additionally, Valve said Medic isn't a Nazi precisely (despite his admittedly rather Nazi-like trappings) because they couldn't figure out how to make that funny--so if that's going to be the headcanon of your Medic, I think it behooves you to find a way to succeed where Valve failed.
Good evening, TF2chan! Some of you may remember me from way back on page 5 of this board; I drifted away from the fandom and then came rushing back a month ago. I'm a bit sad to see this board pretty dead in the water (are you guys all over on Tumblr now or something?), so as a sort of apology for the fact that I never finished the one where Medic gets sick and hilarity ensues, here's a fic I wrote several years ago and then just recently went back and overhauled.
It's based completely unashamedly on the song Strange Day In Berlin by Sally Oldfield, and contains loads of melodrama and mentions of Heavy/Medic. Hope you enjoy!
It was an unusual evening in Stuttgart, and it was going to rain. Throughout the day the clouds had piled up over the city, and now they stood arrayed like battleships along the horizon, waiting for some unknown signal. The air was electric. Down below, the city could sense the gathering storm, and its people drew their coats a little tighter, gripped their children’s hands a little harder as they hurried to get home before the calm broke.
From the table outside the old café, the man sat and watched. He had been there for some time. The remnants of the spring breeze ran its earthy fingers through his greying hair. He held the day’s paper in calloused hands, though there was little in it of note. Faint scars spread up his bare forearms and spoke of a more interesting past than did the grey waistcoat and severe glasses. The coffee by his elbow was long since cold, but he didn’t order another. Instead he sat, and he watched, and he waited, as the streets emptied and the shadows grew longer.
Finally, when the night had swallowed the last of the light and silence descended, a figure formed itself out of the darkness between the streetlamps and took on the shape of a man. He wore a well-cut suit and an air of secrecy, and he took the vacant seat outside the café.
“You’re late,” said the grey-haired man after some time, not looking up from the paper. “I’ve been here all day.”
“My apologies,” said the man in the suit, and his German was impeccable but
Wow I love this so far, I'm so happy to see someone posting here, thank you so much <3 Can't wait to read on, I hope you stick with it! So wonderful and descriptive and you've made me so curious to find out what happens next!