Um yeah, this is the first TF2 fic I'm writing, I'm hoping to get some constructive crit and not people who want to murder me for even typing this sentence. Sniper and Spy is my otp and I might throw in a dash of Heavy and Medic, I am completely relying on google translate for french and I'm open to suggestions for how this can go. So eh, enjoy.. (Please forgive me if the title doesn't match, I couldn't think of anything else.) I wont' hurt you. Chapter 1 Out of the whole Red team, the Sniper was never known for his temper, not like the loud soldier that seemed to never go hoarse no matter how much he shouted, the Heavy who would murder anyone that went near his sandvich or 'Sasha' or the Scout who would bad mouth you the moment you questioned his speed, strength or sexuality. Even the Engineer would get angry when all the noise distracted him from his precious sentries and the medic, well, no one dared to anger him. The Spy himself, no one dared to invoke his wrath, lest he spill some of their precious secrets while the Pyro would babble angrily when he ran out of fuel for his weapon. The Sniper though, the Sniper never seem to get angry or upset with anyone. Even when the Scout insulted him repeatedly or when the Soldier was having one of his insane rants and threatening to hit everyone over the head with his shovel, he never lost his cool, at the most answering with a witty reply or a silence. It seemed that nothing could upset the cool headed Australian no matter how much the Scout tried, eventually everyone just came to the conclusion that he was simply too detached and perhaps even wise to get angry. There was one person though, one foul annoying being that could find a way to get under his skin, make him curse and swear and go stomping all the way to his van. One irritating person who could make his head pound and his entire body shake and tremble with rage. That person was none other than the notorious Blu Spy or the 'bloody good fur nothing Spook!'. It wasn't exactly the moment they had met,no it was a few weeks after they had started this whole pointless war, the Sniper himself had couldn't pin point when he started to hate the Spy. Sure, there had been a few back stabs here and there, he was still trying to get used to the nauseous stomach churning feeling of respawn when it somehow managed to pull his body bits all the way back together, but he had never chalked it up to hate then. The Spy didn't kill him more than the Blu Scout would when he came running to his nest, swinging his bat like a bat shit crazy maniac, not as loud mouthed as their own scout at least. The Sniper didn't hold grudges, only grabbed his rifle and hurried back to his nest. He had a job to do after all, no need to waste precious time over consuming petty rivalries. He had learned that in the unforgiving cruel outback, the hard way, holding grudges over any animal that escaped his scope and aim. He believed he was beyond that now, he was wrong. It was the bloody Spook's fault he was sure, suddenly he found himself being back stabbed more than twice a daily, having his throat slit from behind more than once. Surely, it was only because the Spook wanted to clear the way for his team by taking out the Red's Sniper or because the Sniper made it too easy with his back to an empty room and his concentration on the battle raging below. The Spy didn't seem particularly distracted with stealing the intelligence either. He vowed to be more alert, if only so that he could avoid death and the time consuming respawn process. He started to wear his Razorback more often, tried to keep his ears open for any sound the Spy might make. The first time he caught the Spook before he could strike, was not because he heard the Blu coming, but rather he had paused to reload his rifle and had scented the airy smell of the Spy's cologne. The first thing he did was wonder what sort of idiot wore perfume into a battle, the second was to spin around and grab the blue clad Spy's balisong wielding hand. "Hah, perhaps you aren't as ignorant as I thought you were, bushman." A smirk spread across the french man's face replacing the surprise he had at being caught and before the Sniper could even reach for his Kukri, he found his legs being kicked out from under him and the wind being knocked from his lungs by a swift knee to the stomach. The Spy wrenched out of his grip, adopting a fencing pose and taunting at him as he fell flat onto the floor. He struggled to get up, but found a sharp shiny blue shoe stomp down on his head. "Hon hon hon,I almost thought you would be a challenge to me,I almost feel silly now for ever thinking a filthy bushman could best moi." He gloated, his eyes briefly scanning the small nest, lingering on a pile of empty and filled jarate jars in one corner. A sneer on his face, he straightened his tie, giving another hard stomp onto the Sniper's head. Not giving him anymore time to react, the Sniper jerked up once feeling the sharp blade hit home right between his shoulder blades, stilling his heart. The cool darkness of respawn started to wash over him, but not before the Spy grabbed his chin and brought his head up to face him. He smirked, eyes dancing with unmistakable pride, "Pathetic." Off course, the Sniper didn't deign to take any form of revenge or go after the Spy specifically as he sat eyes peeled on the raging battle. No, revenge was not his style even though he had felt humiliated over his embarrassing death at the Spy's hand. He had clearly under estimated the Spy though, he was not as cowardly as their own Spy was. He didn't hide behind his cloak the moment someone pointed a gun at him, he fought back, ruthlessly and with a sort of instinct the Sniper had only seen in wild animals before. Certainly, he would have to be more cautious next time. Next time was sooner than he expected, the Spy had apparently decided there had not been enough time to gloat over the bushman last time. He came in the middle of the battle when things started to really get going,the Sniper's shoulders tensed as the sweet airy scent of smoke and cologne wafted through the air. First perfume, now smoking a cigarette during the heat of battle? The Spy must really have been crazy. He swung around hard, Kukri in hand and hit his target right in the chest even without him uncloaking. A shimmer and the whole air rippled, the Spy becoming visible slowly like a ghost coming to life. He looked stunned, but as he breathed his last, his gaze hardened and he glared at the Sniper, his sneering mouth opened as if he was going to say something then closed as the light left his eyes and he crumpled to the ground. To the Sniper, that was that. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. He didn't expect it to escalate, didn't expect the Spy to come back straight for him from respawn and stab him more than once from behind while giving snide and crude remarks, often mixed with french curses. Didn't think that when he killed the Spy again, it would start all over again growing worse each time. Every time he got rid of the Spy, he would come back. He would come back insulting the Sniper about his jarate or at how poor his aim was, gloating about the many times he had so easily disposed of him, how stupid and ignorant the bushman was. He told himself to ignore it and it would stop soon, but it was really hard to ignore someone trying to kill you. It didn't stop at the insults and taunts, the Spy started killing him slowly. When he had the Sniper impaled on his balisong or clutching at his throat bleeding out on the floor, in the last few moments of consciousness the Spy would mock him, drag the blade of the knife carelessly around his skin and draw blood. He had been tortured to death once, the Spy slowly cutting off his fingers one by one and stabbing his knife everywhere that would cause pain, but not kill the Sniper. It was pure agony, pure humiliation as the Spy mocked him, sneering and laughing in his loud annoying voice until he doubled over and started to snort while he laughed. That made the Sniper snap. Of course, the Sniper had long stopped ignoring the Spy. He found himself lashing out more at him, tackling him to the ground instead of simply killing him.Resulting to throwing Jarate at him for no reason than to hear him curse and swear. Wrestling with him, trading blows and insults in a pile of tangled limbs as they tried to kill each other. The Red team had not noticed the change in the Sniper's demeanor on the battle field, only noting that he was perhaps a little more silent than usual. Now though, he was tired of it, fed up with the whole tiring rivalry they had managed to form. The jarring insults of the Spy still rang in his ears, increasing from simple taunts about his jarate and wrinkled crumpled clothes to his sniping ability and even obnoxious short lived rants on how the Sniper was less of a man than a man could be. That definitely crossed the line and the Sniper would not take it anymore. He had a plan, oh a devious little plan that would surely teach that bloody Spook a lesson. One that would shut him up for good the Sniper hoped. It was perfect,simply perfect when the Sniper smelled the Spy coming from behind him. Usually, he would grumble angrily and curse the day the moment the Spy showed up, now he was ready to execute his plan. A split second and he had managed to wrestle with the Spy to the ground and pin his hands down beneath him. The ever familiar sneer painted the Spy's lips and he thrashed about under the Sniper, hurling curses at him. Why hadn't the Sniper just finished him off already? An evil smile spread across the Sniper's face as he grabbed onto the Spy's tie making the man choke and his eyes widen. "Hon hon hon, are you going to torture me now, monsieur bushman? I won't cry like you might for your information, I am a Spy and it will take much to break me!" The Spy could still gloat even if he was the one one the floor with the Sniper on top. "Oh is that so? Don't worry, Oi'm not gonna torture you spook, just wanna enjoy myself while Oi got ya tied up." The sniper didn't bother to unwind the tie from around the Spy's neck and nearly choked him to death as he wound it around his captive's gloved hands. Another crazy thing, wearing gloves in the middle of summer, not to mention a suit in the bloody desert, what was the Spy thinking? The Spy froze, seemingly paralyzed as his hands were tied up, snapping out of it when he tried to thrash again, but stopped, nearly choking himself on his tie. The Sniper smiled, it seemed the bloody Spook had finally shut up, but his smile disappeared as the Spy started to shout loudly again. "What is the meaning of this!? Let me go you dirty bushman!" Even if he could not move, his mouth certainly still could and he was cursing up a storm at the Sniper at least until a jar of foul smelling yellow liquid was waved over his face. "Another word out of you and Oi'll break this right over ya big mouth, got it?" The Spy quietened down, more afraid of staining his expensive custom made italian woven blue pinstripe suit, the dry cleaning bill would be ridiculous not to mention explaining how he had managed to defile it like that. Laughing at his sudden silence, the Sniper picked up the Spy's balisong that had been flung to one side while they were wrestling. He approached the Spy on the floor who sneered at him though kept quiet in fear of the Jarate in the man's other hand. "Now, Oi think i need to teach ya bloody spook a good lesson." He stooped down, flipping the Spy over easily so that he lay on his stomach. A small noise escaped the Spy's lips and the Sniper placed the Jar right in front of the Spy's face, laughing as the Blu bit his lip. Closing his eyes, the Spy prepared for whatever sick torture would inflict on him, he knew he had gone too far himself, now he was getting what was coming to him. Yelping as he felt the blade of his Balisong cut into the seam of his sleeves, he cried out, "Non!Not my suit!" "Oh? You worried for your precious ridiculous suit, Spah? Don't worry Spook, if you want ta keep ya suit, all you had to do was say so." "Don't you dare get any blood on it!" The Spy continued on, trying to turn his head and look back at whatever the Sniper was doing. He could torture him, but ruining his suit was much too much. Confusion entered his mind as the Snimper chuckled darkly under his breath. "Fine, Fine Oi wont get blood on ya precious suit. In fact, just ta make sure it stays clean we should make sure it's off while we're at it, shouln't we?" More confusion followed by another yelp as the Sniper reached over and unbuckled the Spy's belt. Panicking, the Spy aimed a kick at the Sniper's stomach, desperately trying to crawl away while the Sniper caught his breath. A rough calloused hand grabbed his ankle, dragging him across the floor and yanking his pants off. He froze, feeling the cool air hit his thighs, then the panic resurfaced and so did the hopeless struggling. The laughter the Sniper had sent a chill up his spine, "You really must be a shiela Spah, perfume, gloves and now lacy panties? Next thing Oi know ya'll be sporting a pair of pointers." The Sniper eyed the pair of black silky 'panties' the Spy wore and was half expecting to get a snide remark back or something instead of more fruitless attempts at escaping. The Spy would not get away from him now though, he had to teach the arsehole weasel a lesson. He was glad his face was hidden under his Balaclava, or else the Sniper might see just how red he was. His heart pounded wildly in his chest and he was starting to tremble, unable to breath even if the tie was not choking him. "P-please, n-non, don't do this!" He pleaded, his voice cracking up as he resorted to shameless begging in hopes of getting out of the situation he was in. Surprising that the Spy was actually begging him now, begging to be let go off, but no doubt this would be like killing off the Spy. Just let him go and he'll come back to make the Sniper's life a constant misery. No, he would teach him a lesson first, another dark laugh as the Sniper trailed a hand up the Spy's thigh earning him a shiver and more begging. How good it felt somewhat to have the arrogant, egoistic bastard of a Spy begging him for something. He removed his hand, the Spy relaxed a little before he tensed up when he felt the Sniper squeeze his ass. "What a nice little arse ya got there Spook, would be a waste ta not to anything with it. Don't worry Oi won't hurt a pretty little shiela like ya, just relax Spook... and learn ya bloody lesson." A hand grabbed the delicate silk 'panties' and slid them off, the Spy whimpered like a wounded puppy and the Sniper, he just smiled. TBC....
One piece of constructive critique coming up! First off, let’s start with the paratext, the part of your post that isn’t the actual story. The paratext is very, very important; if the paratext is bad, people won’t bother reading far enough to find the fic. Um yeah, this is the first TF2 fic I'm writing, I'm hoping to get some constructive crit and not people who want to murder me for even typing this sentence. Generally, it’s a bad idea to open a post with this. You’re trying to sell your readers this fic, you want them to invest their time in reading what you have to say. Making assumptions about their reaction is a red flag that either discourages people from reading your fic or makes them read it with an attitude of ‘this will probably suck’. For your own sake, save such comments for after the fic—or better yet, don’t make them at all. It’s okay to admit to being a new writer, but doing it like this won’t make you friends. I am completely relying on google translate for french. Don’t. There’s nothing more jarring to the reading experience than coming across badly translated foreign language, especially if it’s not foreign to your readers. Look up phrases on Google; there are whole pages devoted to grammatically correct lists of things you might want to say in a foreign language. Or better yet, leave out the foreign dialogue entirely. Readers find it annoying when they can’t understand the characters’ lines. For that matter, don’t fall into the trap of showing your characters’ accents by peppering their dialogue with translated words. If you listen to Spy’s in-game responses, he doesn’t do this; his French is limited to swearing, ‘merde’ and ‘mon Dieu’. He says ‘you disgust me’, not ‘you disgust moi’. Similarly, don’t type out Sniper’s accent phonetically. Don’t write ‘Oi’ for ‘I’. Sniper wouldn’t write his own lines like this! For specific words unique to a regional accent, a phonetic spelling is acceptable; Sniper might say ‘chooks’ for chickens, Engineer ‘ain’t for ‘aren’t’, Demo ‘didnae’ for ‘didn’t’, but writing ‘Oi’ or ‘Spah’ jars the reader and makes them abandon your fic. Please forgive me if the title doesn't match, I couldn't think of anything else. Don’t ask your readers to forgive you for not doing your best. If you really can’t think of a title, just don’t mention it. Don’t draw attention to it. Also, the keywords in story titles are capitalised, ‘I Won’t Hurt You’, and they don't take full stops after. Well, enough about the paratext. Here are a couple of pointers for the actual fic: Capitalise RED and BLU. The company names are abbreviations, not colour descriptions. All three letters should be capitalised, not just the first. 2. Show, don’t tell. You have a lot of exposition in your text, telling the reader what is going on. Dialogue and action are the two carrying elements of fiction, the ‘showing part’ of ‘show, don’t tell’, yet you have 3,500+ characters of exposition before the first line of dialogue—that’s one and a half standard pages in MS Word! Nobody is going to want to read all of that. I didn’t. I skimmed straight through until I found the first set of quotation marks—and I didn’t miss anything either. Your exposition doesn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know. Soldier is loud, Heavy hates when people touch his sandviches or Sasha—it’s useless information because we already know the characters. If you want to catch your readers’ attention, open with action and/or dialogue. Cut away the first six paragraphs and get us right into the thick of it! Make us want to know what happens next. This line, "Hah, perhaps you aren't as ignorant as I thought you were, bushman." would be the perfect opening. It’d hook the readers right from the start. What made Spy change his opinion of Sniper’s intelligence? What is going on since he’s saying this? The readers want to know more. That’s how you open a story! "[...] Oi'm not gonna torture you spook, just wanna enjoy myself while Oi got ya tied up." The sniper didn't bother to unwind the tie from around the Spy's neck and nearly choked him to death as he wound it around his captive's gloved hands. You can’t tell a man not to worry, you won’t hurt him, and then almost choke him to death. Watch out for inconsistencies between your characters’ words and actions; unless they’re deliberate because the characters themselves are deeply conflicted, they shouldn’t be there. "P-please, n-non, don't do this!" He pleaded, his voice cracking up as he resorted to shameless begging in hopes of getting out of the situation he was in. I don’t think Spy would be begging, certainly not since you’ve established that respawn exists in your fictional universe. Honour means more to him than pain, especially when a quick trip through respawn would remove all injuries. It’d take a lot more than being captured by Sniper to make Spy stutter and beg. the Spy whimpered like a wounded puppy Again, Spy doesn’t whimper. Have you ever heard him whimper in the game? He’d resort to insulting Sniper’s national heritage and parents and lifestyle, asking him outright if Sniper is going to rape him and then mock his inability to find a willing partner, not whimper like a puppy. Be careful not to let your characters slip out of character. Well, that’s all for now, constructive critique courtesy of me and nobody murdered either. Welcome to TF2chan.
I'm french and Cyan is right, nothing annoy me more than 3 french word lost in a sentence. Try to think why the Spy, who seem to be very fluent in english (certainly more than me) would speak french ? In game "merde" and "mon dieu" are swearing he accidentaly let pass. If his french words halfway through english ones are accidental, it will never be simple word like "me". We learn that since we're 12 years old, it's not the kind of expression you forget. He would be more likely to forget a difficult word he does not use often, and use the french one by mistake. But if it's voluntary, he is smart enough to use words he thinks his interlocutor can understand. That's why it doesn't bother me when he call a scout "petit" or anyone "monsieur" : he know you know what he mean. I hope I make myself clear , I'm 1000 times better at reading than redacting, so sorry for the mistakes.
Thanks for the criticism, The only thing I have to stop you at is the Spy being out of character because I do have a backstory for that though I won't reveal it now. For now I am going to rewrite this, is there a way to edit posts? Or delete a thread to start another one since I really don't want to have multiple threads crowding.
You can grab a mod (I recommend from the TF2 Circlejerk if you want the fastest response) when you plan to start the other one, and we'll take care of it.
Oh my gosh this is hot! You're so cruel, cutting the story right when it was getting more and more interesting. I love how they treat each other, how the Spy tortures the Sniper both physically and mentally. Please, do continue soon!
>>2 Sorry if I'm breaking any sort of rule (unwritten or not), but I just want to say-- I'm not OP, but just a normal lurker who occasionally dabbles in the realm of fanfiction writing (when my muse and near-terminal case of writer's block both cooperate). I found this post quite helpful, and want to thank you for taking the time to write all that out. It's all very useful advice, and might come in handy if I can ever manage to kick said muse in the ass and get it in gear. Captcha: among efortsG -- somehow seems fairly appropriate-ish. (now let's see if I get this sage thing right...)
Repost this, edit this, write a new one, but PLEASE continue!