Author's Note: The pairings are going to be varied and wild. I don't even know precisely what pairings I plan on putting in here, but either way, it's mostly going to be here in Adult for cruelty and gore over smut. -------------- “And so I says-- I says, 'Hey! You, with the face!' And then you know what? Ya know what? BONKED 'im right in the face!†Scout drawled out, lounging comfortably on the BLU base's couch to a very bored Sniper. “That so?†He replied distractedly, focusing on cleaning his rifle (the only thing he kept clean). Scout's head quirked just a little, as if his ears were at attention. “You ain't payin' me no attention, Snoip-ah,†He pouted, biting his lip just a little. “Come on, man, it has to be some kinds of interestin', or you'd have left by now. Everybody else did.†He made a grand gesture to the room, a massive mess that Scout didn't feel up to picking his way through carefully. It was too much bother and too difficult when it was that filthy. Too much crap to trip over. “I've heard the story before, mate, and I ain't all that interested in hearin' it again from ya. Get a new story, won't ya?†Sniper began reassembling the rifle meticulously, glad for the silence that answered him. It was peaceful, to be honest, and a damn sight more comfortable than sitting in his little camper van. She was a beaut, of course, but not big enough for his lanky frame. Scout rose up a bit on the couch, cradling his bat, as he was wont to do from time to time, and sighed. “I ain't got much, Sniper. It's hard to have new stories when it's just being told to get the hell out over and over.†Sniper pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn't tell Scout to leave for that very same reason, and he knew what it was like to be rejected near every time he set foot somewhere where people knew him when he was younger. He finished reassembling his rifle, letting a rather depressed silence fall, and when he was done, he stood, putting it over his shoulder. “Where ya goin'?†Scout asked, not even turning his head towards Sniper, face towards his bat as he felt each whorl in the wood with practiced, knowing fingers. It was supple and smooth from the oil in his fingers wearing down any rough patch, and it soothed his anxiety. “Goin' to my camper. It's late. I'm headin' ta bed.†Sniper headed towards the door, not seeing Scout's face fall. “Is it? What time is it?†Sniper glanced at a clock on the wall. “Roundabouts three in the mornin'. We have a fight startin' in about six hours. You might want to turn in, too.†Scout raised his face, milky-pale eyes flickering uselessly about the room. “Right. Hard to remember time when there's no clock I can use, haha....†The laugh was forced, but Sniper didn't comment, merely heading out. When Scout heard the door close behind Sniper, he got up and slowly and carefully figured out a path through the wreckage of the previous night's drinking. It was practically tradition, by this point-- after a few days of vacation, everybody relaxes and gets smashed. Tradition also says that the very next day would be a fighting day, and that they'd only find out AFTER they'd realize they'd have some terrifying hangovers. Except Scout, at least. His world was wobbly enough, he didn't need drink helping him. When he finally got to his room and settled in the bed, he sighed and listened to the quiet noises of the base. There was some faint whirring from the Engineer's workshop, and squeaking snores from Spy's room, but the rest was as quiet as the grave. For all he knew, Engineer could have murdered everybody except Spy, Sniper, and Scout, and Scout wouldn't know. With that comforting thought, Scout pulled his bat into bed with him, gripping the handle, and pressed his back against the wall. Better some security than none, after all. Engineer could well have, and he was going to be prepared. The day dawned with Soldier's trumpet blasting out the eight o'clock hour, even though everybody was already up and eating in the pitifully sized dining room. Heavy turned a curious gaze to the puffed up Soldier, watching him expel all his air before speaking. “Why is it that you play the trumpet every morning, without fail, even though we are all awake, Soldier?†Heavy rumbled, his Russian accent hidden behind a crisp Oxford overtone. Soldier immediately turned red under his helmet, shrinking. “I just thought I'd-- I'd announce the hour, so that-- that we know that we have just an hour left...†He wrung his hands anxiously, afraid that he had angered Heavy. He had already been fired from his past teams, and he was in no hurry to leave this one. Though Engineer was bowel-emptyingly terrifying, everybody else had welcomed him. Heavy stared for a few more moments, then continued eating his breakfast. Soldier slunk back to his seat and began to eat quietly, downcast. Spy, however, was as proud as a peacock at his own seat, having made the meal. It was a full spread, as it was each morning, courtesy of the chef quality of his cooking. It showed, too, on his pudgy body. It was the body of a well-fed, comfortable, and altogether luxurious life. The suit he wore exemplified his class and hid his hedonistic nature, expensively tailored. What couldn't be hidden, though, was his cheerfully animated expression, bright eyes, and squeaking voice. “'Ey!†He chirped, getting everybody's attention. “'Oo we ha'e any 'ore i'e 'ream?†His voice was a bird-like trill, breaking anytime he attempted to pronounce harsh or sharp consonants. It was the only undignified thing about him, but at this point, nobody even looked at him twice for it. Engineer was the one to reply, leaning forward and flicked up his cowboy hat with a smirk. “Sure do, pardner. It's in the freezer in my workshop. Why don't you bounce your little body in there and get some, hm?†Tension surfaced at the table like a whale breaking the surface. Spy paled and inched backwards into his chair as much as his volume would allow. (It wasn't enough.) Engineer's goggles glinted in the light as he straightened, crossing his arms. “Come on, boy. We ain't got all darn day.†Spy whimpered faintly, eyes shimmering. He was adorable, a fact that he didn't often realize, and quite pitiable. “'e, je ne--†“I dun care,†the Texan answered sharply, an edge in his voice. “Ya wanted the ice cream, ya got it. Go get it.†Medic leaned back in his seat and set down his knife and fork loudly on the china, pulling Engineer's attention from Spy. “Engineer, ve vill not have our most useful man down for ze count for our first battle of ze new year. Leave him be.†He adjusted his glasses delicately, steepling his fingers. The action revealed femininity in his long, pianist-like digits, and their ability to pluck upon single nerves, if the occasion were to arise where such an action were necessary. “Or,†Medic added as another thought, “I vill not uber Heavy to protect your sentries und dispensers, and ze like.†He waved a hand dismissively. “Your choice.†Engineer's goggled eyes were fixed on Medic, but the expression behind the thick plastic was hidden. Medic did not back down, however, and eventually, after a tense stare down, Engineer pushed his plate towards the center. “So be it, Medic. But ya need ta sort out yer priorities. I make thin's, but I think ya forget that I can jus' as easily unmake 'em.†He stood and headed out to finish his final prep for the upcoming battle. Medic did the same and motioned for Heavy to follow, speaking lowly to each other as they left. Spy wriggled out of his chair and went through the opposite door that Engineer did, and the rest followed suit. “THE BATTLE WILL COMMENCE IN ONE MINUTE!†------------ Author's Note 2: Also, before I get angry commenters and/or readers, for the love of the Powers That Be, please, just give it a little tim before you call the characterizations OOC. They're meant to be the classes, of course, and resemble them, but this is a misfit team my partner and I made up. Think Christian Brutal Sniper. Still Sniper, but so different that if you were just a little less amused, you'd hate it for being out of character. So, in the same way, just relax and let the story flow, please. Oh. And if anybody wants to beta, I'd love to hear from you. I don't have a beta.
Don't tell your readers how to do their job. We'll give your story "a little tim [sic]" if you earn our time. We'll accept your supposedly different-but-amusing characters if your characters actually amuse us. We'll "relax and let the story flow," if we bloody well feel like it. Your job as a writer is to write a story that's draws readers in on it own merits, and keeps readers going in anticipation of the same quality writing that they saw from the very beginning. You've had an entire chapter to convince us that your story and characterisation is worth putting our trust in--if that's not enough time for you, then that's your problem as a writer, not ours as the readers. Your characterisation isn't that bad. I did notice it was different, but I was interested enough to watch and wait until I read your obnoxiously self-entitled author's note excuse. Now I might end up hating your characters on principle. The only part of the characterisation that really got me was Spy's accent. The way it's written, with all the apostrophes and missing letters renders it indecipherable. I stopped and reread his lines several times and I still have no idea what he said. Something about ice cream. But I enjoyed what you did with Heavy, and your raw approach to Scout's social problems had my interest piqued. Your only real problem is that your story is all over the place. It's just a lot of fast, shallow glimpses of a lot of different characters with no cohesion and no trace of a plot. That would be fine if it were the first short chapter in a completed novel, but when you're writing a serial story, and your readers have to wait an undisclosed amount of time between updates, each update has to have substance and move the story forward. If it doesn't, you're not making it worth the wait--so you have to make your updates either longer, or more plot-heavy. If your story structure requires you to write a chapter where nothing really happens, then consider posting multiple chapters at once.
I posted the beginning of my story on Tf2Chan and my only commenter is somebody throwing a bitch fit. T.T And not even a proper "review," really. It’s called constructive critique. A bitch fit is when you complain about it on tumblr so your friends can reblog with comments about how we’re all assholes for pointing out that you’re just not a good writer. Your story title is copied from a Disney song, your characters are by your own admission OCs made up by you and your friend, your phonetic accents are unreadable, you have no plot and no structure, your author’s note puts off readers, and you're upset because someone left you honest to God constructive critique to help you improve. Obviously, TF2chan is not the place for you.
I was curious to see how a blind Scout would play out. Game mechanics alone, that's one of the few classes I don't think could do without his sight. I could see a blind Medic, maybe, even a blind Engineer, but a blind Scout seems odd. Still, I'd like to see how it works out. But I can't even look at Spy's accent. Is it supposed to be french? Because it definitely doesn't look it. You claim, in the description, that it breaks any time he tries to pronounce sharp consonants? Since when are V and M sharp consonants? Ones like K, T, Ch- those are all sharp sounds. But if it's supposed to be French, I'd suggest looking at other French accents, to see how they're done. I not saying to type like zhis all zhe time, but pay attention to 'ow French people pronounce zheir words. H's, for example, are the most commonly dropped, and one of the easiest parts of the accent to understand. But yeah, if you really thought that first comment was a bitchfit, then the chan isn't the place for you, I think. That was actually one of the nicer critiques I've seen on here, and full of helpful information.
I'll post a review. You do too much "head hopping" where you reveal what someone is thinking and feeling. Try to stick with one character. A meek, passive Soldier? What's up with that? First he does something in character of typical Soldier: blasting his trumpet regardless of the state of consciousness of the other teammates. But then it's like a switch has been flipped, and he's stammering and timid. The Spy has me totally confused. The garbled accent makes him sound like a toddler. He asks for ice cream, and Engineer says it's in his workshop, which...upsets Spy? Is...he about to cry because Engineer won't fetch ice cream for him? Why is he so blubbery? His work performance is compromised because of freaking ice cream? First you say he's a great chef, but then he wants ice cream for breakfast? Just what did this great chef cook that, anyway? And what's with the sudden tension with Engineer's comment, like everyone is afraid of hurting Spy's delicate feelings? Also the sentence: "Tension surfaced at the table like a whale breaking the surface." it repetitive with the word 'surface.' And that comment of Medic's about the Spy being the most useful didn't sit well with me at all. It struck me as "show don't tell" with these OCs. I don't understand the antagonism with Engineer and Medic. Medic threatening to not defend Engineer because....he made Spy tear up? Really? Lastly, you need a smoother transition from breakfast to the minute before battle. They wandered out of the kitchen, and suddenly they're doing the final preparations for battle? It felt very abrupt and confusing. As for the things I enjoyed about your fic, I did like the beginning part with Scout yakking away while Sniper cleans his rifle in a corner. Overall I would agree that it would have been better if you had posted a few chapters at a time. That way we readers could read your justification for such bizarre OOC-ness.
He asks for ice cream, and Engineer says it's in his workshop, which...upsets Spy? I think it implies that the Engineer's workshop has some kind of death traps, or is otherwise some horrific terrifying place (a torture cellar, maybe?). Thus, everybody is disturbed by its mention, and Spy desperately doesn't want to go in there. If that's the case, then Medic threatened not to defent Engineer because Engineer was going to either physically harm spy (death traps) or psychologically bully him (forcing him to enter a torture cellar or something like that). It's not an overreaction on Medic's part. ...Though I'm not sure why I'm bothering to find sensible interpretations for the story. The author's whiny passive-aggressive fit about ZOMG GETTING HONEST CONCRIT!!!111 in a forum that is well-known for its honest concrit annoyed the everloving crap out of me. I make it a point to always be extra nice to authors in ff.net and other similar places because I understand that, sometimes, people don't write fics to improve as writers. Sometimes people don't give a damn about improving as writers, they just want to share their love for the game/book/anime/whatever with a contribution to Fandom. So, even if the story sucks, whatever, give them a pat on the back anyway, no harm done and everybody is happy. But TF2Chan is not ff.net. It's a site that is clearly, specifically, explicitly known for its honest concrit. If you can't take concrit, don't post your story here. I don't want the one and only site that provides decent criticism to stop doing that because some people want it to become like every other fanfiction site ever.
1. Post fic 2. Shield face 3. ??? 4. Profit!