This is so freaking adorable! Man I've been waiting to read more of this, I love Nottim.

oh yeah that was mine :3 i remember writing it now i've seen it (and i recognize my style)

thanks!!

holy shit, this just gave me the biggest missing part to this story i want to write.

Sometime, I need to write a piece with Nottim. I need to. Maybe a little Christmas piece. Maybe he can make a special Hot Chocolate machine just for Engineer out of one of his old Dispensers. Press button, receive beverage, make Nottim bite his knuckle and bounce with joy.

>>35

Damn you Lighnings-Shadow. You and your Octopus mind. This needs to be done. I am sort of in love with NotTim Spy. I have sadly started a fanart of him.

Jesus this is just....this is just amazing. flat out O-MI-GOSH stupid fangirl material! <3

Delivered in my favorite format (log-style) adorable character that is just SUPER AWESOME AMAZING because jesus H. CE-RIST you are just the most damnedest cutest thing I have done seen!

I love you. All of you. Best christmas story-present ever.

Hey, remember that thing I said I'd write for Christmas?
It's late. I... kinda rushed to finish it, and it isn't what I'd initially set out to write. And it's too short. And I'm not sure if I nailed NotTim's inner momologue. And I'm sorry if I shouldn't put it up here because it is your thread, OwlTiem, but... I want you to have it. I'll fix it, I promise.
----


There was always a week-long ceasefire period during the holidays so that everyone could celebrate as they saw fit. Christmas was certainly no exception.

One might have found it odd to see so much happiness and joy spread throughout a war base usually fraught with explosions, gunpowder, and raw carnage. These men wore the firm skins of brutish mercenaries, and yet when that one magical time of year came by, that roughness melted away into something more accepting, more kind.

In the center of the rec room, sofas and game tables had been pushed aside to make room for the towering, robust Tree. It had been harvested and mounted just that day, and already it was almost fully clothed for Christmas. Little candy canes and ornaments hung from ever other branch like a trophy, and even if the candy canes were the same ones used for the Tree every year, old and stale, they were still beautiful against the green.

All that remained was the final touch.

"Don't—DON'T... fuckin', drop me, dude, I almost had it!" Scout shouted, one foot on Demoman's shoulder, the other daintily bent up behind him (Scout didn't realize he was doing it), and one arm painfully stretching to slip the star on top. It was nearly there, too, but Scout couldn't seem to stretch that last little inch, or else he might send everyone and everything tumbling down.

Everyone was there, standing back and watching the precarious ritual unfold. Most of them wanted to help, but Scout had called the star and barked at anyone else who dared try touching it because he'd fuckin' called it, so he got to put up. And far be it from the rest of the team to stop Scout from calling the shots.

"Ah said, lad, Ah goot yeh fine. Have a li'le fehth, why doncha?"

"With your sense of balance? Yeah, right!"

"Jus' geet tha bloodeh star up."

"I'm tryin', hold up...!"

In the corner of the room, cloaked and hidden, was NotTim.

He watched the spectacle with avid but worried eyes. Scout wasn't going to get the star on without taking all the team's hard work to the ground in a crashing heap. And what were they thinking, letting Demoman be Scout's support? Demoman's balance and care was even worse than Scout's! NotTim nibbled his lip, too anxious to watch and yet too concerned about his friend's safety to look away.

Ah, there, the gilded star slid onto the top like a glove over a hand, proud and perfectly erect.

"Got it!" Scout slunk back, full weight squarely on Demoman's shoulders, then hopped back to solid ground. A few of his teammates cheer; it was a rather impressive balancing act, and the Tree's decoration is finally complete.

Oh, good, thought NotTim. They were okay. Scout was firmly on the ground, and the Tree was still up. Good, good, good.

They all stepped back, then, and viewed the Tree from tip to toe, silently admiring their handiwork. (Except for NotTim; he hadn't dared to help out. Not that he hadn't wanted to, because it looked kind of fun and Engineer looked like he was really happy, but everyone was there and everyone was talking and laughing and they'd want him to talk, too, and then he'd choke up and stutter like an idiot or he'd break one of their pretty candy canes and then they'd get angry at him and– no, no, no, oh no. Just... no.)

"Star is very pretty," Heavy observed. A few of the others nodded. Everyone was smiling, and Soldier was pulling a grimace that kind of resembled a smirk, so it counted.

Sniper claped his hands together. "Now, on to the sweets!"

Exuberance filled the air. Everyone filed out for the kitchen, eager to sample Pyro's Flaming Sugar Stars and Sniper's home-recipe Gingerbread Boomerangs ("I'd be more than happy to make yer good ol' American Gingerbread Men, Digger, but we ain't got no bloody cookie-cutters, so I'm makin' due. They'll taste the same anyway."), except for NotTim and Engineer, who was still admiring the Tree fondly.

Engineer waited until everyone was in the kitchen, well out of earshot.

"Beauty, ain't she?" The Texan spoke, knowing NotTim was listening. "Doc gave us that star our first Christmas. Never told us where he got it from, but we stopped askin' eventually. I remember, our first Christmas, seein' ol' Heavy hoist him up onto his shoulders to get Doc closer to the treetop."

Engineer chuckled. "Scared the Doc somethin' fierce, I tell ya! He'd asked for a hand, but I doubt he expected anthin' like that. He got it up all the same though, an' by God, it was just lovely."

He glanced back into the seemingly-empty corner. "Don't tell Doc I told'ja, though. I'd get one helluvan earful if he knew."

No reply.

Engineer smiled. "Oh, and Spook? If'n you were wonderin', stale candy canes're just as good'n sweet as fresh ones. An' there's so many up here, I doubt any of the guys would notice if one or two went missin'."

Silence...

And then NotTim lifted his cloak.

"There's my li'l Spook," Engineer smiled.

NotTim glued his eyes to Engie's shoes, hands wedged behind his back, but he smiled. Slowly, timidly, he shuffled up next to Engineer.

"You like candy canes? I love 'em. They go nicely with a couple gingersnaps an' a little hot cocoa. Here, I'll split one'a these with ya, if ya like."

Engineer plucked one vibrantly striped cane, and offered it to him. NotTim tittered and politely shook his head (even though, deep down, he really wanted a candy cane, he loved candy canes, even old ones, but... he– they– he couldn't take these, they belonged to the team. They weren't his to eat! They weren't his to eat at all!)

Engineer noticed how NotTim's eyes dilated when he saw the candy cane. The kid definitely wanted it.

"What if I let you have some as my little treat?"

NotTim's eyes lit. A treat? Engineer was giving him a treat? Well, when he put it that way... NotTim supposed treats were okay.

Engineer snapped the candy cane in two. "Would you prefer the straight end, or the bent end?"

NotTim's eyes flicked between the two halves. "... E-either."

Engie smiled again, friendly and warm, and gave him the straight end.

NotTim took it, pulled the wrapping off, and popped the broken end into his mouth. A wave of sweet, cool, pepperminty goodness filled his taste buds, and it tasted so delicious that NotTim sighed. Candy canes were... little sticks of heaven you could hang on trees.

Engineer slipped an arm around NotTim's shoulder, slowly, gently, so as not to startle him. NotTim tensed for a moment but relaxed just as soon. It was only Engie. Engie was safe.

NotTim let himself scoot closer until their shoulders touched, and he hesitantly let his head rest in the nape of Engie's neck. Engie let him, and that meant the world to NotTim.

"Spook?"

NotTim looked up.

"Merry Christmas."

NotTim felt his heart flutter. He loved Engineer. He loved him so much that it almost hurt. But Engineer would never hurt him. Engineer wouldn't let anyone hurt him. Engineer was the best person in the world.

".... Merry Christmas... Engineer..."

>>38

I think you gave me the beetus.

>>38

...Christ this was so cute. God and so perfect. I think you did an amazing job.

(And had appro since I finally finished my NotTim fanart: http://tf2chan.net/fanart/res/25.html#1820 Shameless plug, I know.)

>>40
Dude. Dude.

Dude.

That is exactly what I pictured him to look like! Right down to the loose tie!

Poor guy looks so... sad. Troubled. He need da hugz.

Also, I looked at the reversed text and first thing I saw was, "My name is Mitton"
His name is Mitton.

And thank you. I'm glad I didn't fail too bad with it. I might still write the "Dispencin' a Present" one, just because it's far too cute to just let go of. Thank you!

>>38
>>40

i am dead now

because of you two

>>42
Oh nose.
Is that good?

Okay! NotTim's back! Consider this a down payment on the entire story I owe. Also, it's kind of to check as make sure I got NotTim's mind-process accurate. I can never be sure. Enjoy!

"Dispencin' a Present"
---

NotTim paced back and forth furiously in his (not his) room. His candy cane had long since been sucked away, and even though he wanted to go get another, he just couldn't. Asking for more sweets, more treats, would make him look ungrateful for what he had been given and he'd be saying that what Engineer had gifted him with wasn't enough for him, and he'd look like a greedy little Spy that was never satisfied with anything and Engineer would regret giving him any of the candy cane in the first place. He could not have the candy canes unless Engineer said he could.

And even so, candy canes look better when they're hanging on the Tree than they look sticking out of his mouth.

So NotTim paced around with two cigarettes in his lips, eyes on the ground before him and arms hugging his stomach so tight that he was starting to feel a little sick from the pressure. (Well, that and he hadn't gotten any breakfast. Too loud that morning. Too risky. Someone would've seen him in there.) He was trying to keep himself calm and under control so he could think, but the cold and the ever-present bout of fear that welled up in him at times like these were making things very difficult.

Engineer had put his arm around his shoulder. He'd done it slowly, gently, so cautious, so careful not to scare NotTim. His arm had been big, strong, a little heavy, and oh, goodness, it had been so warm. It had felt so nice on his neck and shoulders, so cozy and safe, and oh, it was so very, very good, and he'd almost wanted to hug Engineer!

Oh, but he couldn't; there was no way to escape hugs. You were clamped between two massive arms that kept you from going anywhere and you couldn't get out. But, if Engineer's arm had felt that nice... NotTim couldn't even imagine how good it would feel to hug Engineer.

NotTim happily sighed at the thought. His pace quickened around his (not his) room. He wondered, briefly, if being so close to Engineer was worth the risk of an inescapable embrace, but the thought instantly vanished and was replaced with the one, life-saver's mantra:

Always have an escape plan. ALWAYS have an escape plan.

No matter what the payoff of a risk may be, a Spy must always have the power to flee the scene on a dime if necessary.

NotTim frowned in dismay, sucking on his cigarettes. He couldn't taste the nicotine, or he didn't want to. It wasn't a pleasant thing, smoking, but without it, God only knew what kind of a sorry wreck he'd be. It was a wonder he hadn't developed ulcers by now.

NotTim whipped his thoughts back to Engineer. Christmas would be here in a few days, and after all that Engineer had done for him, NotTim felt obligated to give him something. The only problem was what that gift would be. What could he possibly give Engineer that he would like and didn't already have? And it couldn't be something from a store; that was lazy, and Engineer deserved so much better than a store gift. Engineer deserved something special; something unique.

What was something that NotTim and only NotTim could make?

Mistakes was the first word that came to mind. He tensed; an instinctive reaction, but then he stood straight and shook his head.

"N-not... not g-gonna m-mess up..."

He just needed to think. Think of all the things Engineer has talked about. What sort of things did he ever mention—

"You like candy canes? I love 'em. They go nicely with a couple gingersnaps an' a little hot cocoa..."

–really liking?

Gingersnaps and hot cocoa.

Oh, but... NotTim didn't know how to cook! What was he supposed to do now!? And even if he could cook... the... the kitchen... wasn't... his...!

Pyro cooks.

But– But– He– He couldn't ask for help! Pyro would never teach him how to cook! Why would Pyro bother helping NotTim when Pyro knew he'd just wind up spilling ingredients everywhere and messing up as always?

Pyro's your friend.

But... he still couldn't ask for such a big favor like that. It was Rude.

Scout is your friend, too.

But Scout can't cook, can he? And even if he could, Scout wouldn't. He's got his own gifts to give. He can't waste his time helping NotTim.

This is for Engineer.

...

NotTim stopped pacing.

... ...

... ... ...

"... Yer a great Spy, son..."

Well, that was it, then.

A wave of energy swept over him, starting in his chest and spreading throughout his whole body. His heart pumped harder, driven by something that, for once, wasn't fear.

This was Engineer he was talking about. Engineer had saved him from getting killed by his old teammates when he didn't have to. Engineer let NotTim sleep in his room sometimes, and Engineer talked to him, too. Engineer had done so many things for NotTim out of sheer kindness, and NotTim owed it to Engie to be a Brave Spy and give him the best gift ever. Even if it meant talking, and-and getting laughed at, and... and being called 'stupid'... NotTim would do it! NotTim had to do it! For Engie!

He looked up at the door shut tight in front of him. He was usually afraid to open doors, but if Engineer was waiting for him on the other side, then by-golly, NotTim had to open that door!

NotTim took two steps forward, grasped the handle so tight that the bones in his fingers creaked, and he jerked the door open.

And it didn't budge.

He pulled again. It still didn't open.

NotTim blinked. Then he realized the problem and squeezed his eyes shut in humiliation.

He turned the handle, and then jerked the door open.

Coming back after a week to find another NotTim... how he swells my heart with joy. I enjoy these fics... too much.

NotTim is growing on me. I realize this is partially because I have a little bit of NotTim's crippling awkwardness and self-doubt in myself. Okay more than a bit. Bawwww!

I like the fics, Lightnings-Shadow. I think you'd do well to have less of NotTim internal-monologuing, though; stuff like this seems way too self-aware:

NotTim paced back and forth furiously in his (not his) room. His candy cane had long since been sucked away, and even though he wanted to go get another, he just couldn't. Asking for more sweets, more treats, would make him look ungrateful for what he had been given and he'd be saying that what Engineer had gifted him with wasn't enough for him, and he'd look like a greedy little Spy that was never satisfied with anything and Engineer would regret giving him any of the candy cane in the first place. He could not have the candy canes unless Engineer said he could.

I'd be happier with something like "He really wanted another candy cane, but Engineer had already left", because what's so SUPER CUTE about the character (to me) isn't the painful and constant self-criticism, it's the fact that he's just the most insecure spy ever. He just doesn't go get another candy cane, and that's that, no whining.

NotTim took two steps forward, grasped the handle so tight that the bones in his fingers creaked, and he jerked the door open.

And it didn't budge.

He pulled again. It still didn't open.

NotTim blinked. Then he realized the problem and squeezed his eyes shut in humiliation.

He turned the handle, and then jerked the door open.

This is more of what I love about the character. It really gels with one trillion dicks' work (OP and sequel) -- he's a good spy! He just fucked up and then didn't know what to do. This is what gives him such wide appeal; I do that shit all the time.

Also, I just want to thank anon for posting the original chat log. I read (and skimmed) most of it, and it was really interesting to see how you all took a bizarre in-game encounter and created a character. It was the closest thing I'm ever going to get to a Writer's Workshop filled with videogame nerd homos.

>>47
I must say right off the bat, thank you for this. I'll definitely keep your Crits in mind as I go back over the rest of the story.

I also feel the need to mention something else, not to say that you're wrong, but just to express where I stand on it: I also find NotTim's insecurities purely adonkable, however, I find it hard to write him without/with less of that aspect. Insecure people beat themselves up over a lot of things.
But you may be right in that I make him beat himself up too much. That being said, I will take this piece of advice as well.

Again, thank you for the Crit!

>>41

You know, I don't know why I just now noticed that your head read his name backwards as Mitton. It's just adorable if that actually was his name, because that name derives from mutton, and now I have an image of Nottim with a pet sheep.

A pet sheep that he totally spoils because it's HIS pet and he's never had a pet before but he wants to do it right and kinda goes overboard. He keeps it outside and doesn't let anyone find out about because he doesn't want it to get in anyone's way or bother people. And it ends up giving him some touch therapy because it's a pet and a sheep, and harmless, so he won't freak out about touching it as much, and it would help him get used to being touched in the process. I am not sure how he would hide it, but he would manage it somehow. Until maybe sniper spotted it with his scope and just got confused about why there's a sheep in dustbowl or gravel pit or wherever they are. And why it has a collar.

Sorry about the spew. It's late and my brain is running away with me. I'll probably regret posting this in the morning.

>>49

This is the most adorable premise I have ever read.

I am assuming since this is in the Adult Fanfiction section that there is going to eventually be some adorable awkward sex with NotTim because I'm pretty sure my insides would melt if there was.

>>49
Holy Shit.
NotTim has a pet sheep.
Named Mutton.

Insta- Head Cannon.

hahaha 49 here. Glad you guys like it. I would like to write a Nottim mutton fic for you guys, but i have no idea how to go about it. The last time I wrote a fanfiction was... hmmm. I think it was way back when I was in high school, and it was fairly atrocious. It pains me when I go back and read it now.

But Mitton and Mutton! I can draw this... badly, but I can draw it!

I love the Nottim renaissance, but echoing what folks above me have said, I think not actually referring to him in the text as "NotTim" would be preferable. He's Spy; he's the only Spy. He's just a different Spy.

>>54
Ah, yes, you make a very valid point. I shall adjust the story accordingly.

Thank you everyone for your help! I am finishing up and editing the next little part now. NotTim goes to ask Pyro for help.

This post has been deleted.

Here we are, the next bit, short and sweet. ComCrit away!

"Dispencin' a Present"
---
NotTim stood in the corner of the now emptied kitchen, watching Pyro put all the leftover cookies in a plastic container to store in the fridge, wondering exactly what the heck had possessed him. This was a bad idea, and it probably wasn't going to work. He'd have to talk.

Pyro shut the fridge door, then looked right at Spy and waved. "Rr! Hrr thrr, Sphrrk! Drrd yrr wrrnt srrm crrkrrs?"

Spy tensed. Run, run, RUN!

Pyro motioned for him to come sit down. Spy didn't want to... but, if Pyro had already seen him and wan't kicking him out, then he supposed there was no real reason not to stay... especially if there were...

NotTim had a seat at the empty table. Pyro opened the containers and daintily retrieved two Flaming Sugar Stars and one Gingerbread Boomerang, (Pyro kind of stuck his pinkies out when he handled food, Spy noticed) placed them gently on a plate and served it to him.

"O-oh no, I-I c-c-couldn't—"

"Yrrs, yrr crrrd, Sphrrk! R knrr hrr mrrch yrr lrrv swrrts. Grr rrn, trry thrrm!"

Oh, he shouldn't, but he really did want to. Delicately picking up a yellow and orange colored Sugar Star, Spy took a small bite of one point, felt the grainy sugar on his tongue, rolled it around in his mouth, and let it dissolve.

Then, eyes practically shining, he bit off the entire spike.

Pyro laughed. "Srr? R knrr yrr'd lrrk thrrm."

Spy slowly worked the delicious sweetness around in his mouth and swallowed the syrupy goo it left behind. "I-I-It's so... the-they're s-so...!"

"Swrrt? Mmm-Hmm! Swrrtrrst crrkrrs rrvrr! Scrrt hrrd frrv hf thrrm rrlirr. R trrld hrrm thrrgh, 'Drrn't rrt hll hf thrrm, rr thrr wrrn't brr rrny lrrft frr Sphrrk!' R mrrd thrrm frr yrr, yrr knrr."

NotTim's chest tightened, eyes wide. "F-f-f-for... me?"

"Yrrp! Wrrll, R hrrd yrr rrn mrrnd whrrn R mrrd thrrm. Nrr hn lrrvs shrrgrr lrrk yrr, hrftrr hll."

Spy looked at the Star in his hand, then back at Pyro. Despite every fiber in his being telling him not to cry, he couldn't stop himself. Pyro made me cookies... Pyro made me sugar cookies... and here I am asking him to help me make a present for Engineer and not him... and I didn't even show up at the table when he served them — for me! Oh no, no, no! I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't, I can't, I can't...

"... Sphrrk, Sphrrk, rrt's rrkrry! Rrt's rrkrry! Drrn't wrry, R wrrntrrd trr mrrk thrrm! Thrr yrrs! Jrrst frr yrr!"

Spy hadn't even realized he'd started crying his eyes out. Pyro was sitting next to him now, one rubber hand on his back, rubbing slowly, soothingly. Apparently he'd been babbling a little as well. Oh god, he hadn't said too much, had he?

"Rrt's rrkrry, Sphrrk, rrt's rrkrry. Rrvrrthrrng's rrkrry."

How was he supposed to ask Pyro for help now? Spy didn't have one thing to give Pyro in return, and on top of that, he'd just burst into tears like a big fat baby. Pyro was going to be sad when he asked. Pyro probably already wanted him gone after he'd just cried all over the place.

His hands were shaking like mad, but NotTim somehow managed to reach into an inner pocket and pull out his personal notebook and pencil. He opened to a new page, with difficulty, and began scribbling down everything he wanted to say but knew he couldn't. He didn't know what else to do, but he had to do something.

Pyro watched the words appear as Spy wrote with one hand and held the Sugar Star in his mouth with the other, mostly to stifle his bawling.

"Rr, Sphrrk! Sphrrk, Sphrrk, yrr drrn't hrrv trr grrv mrr rrnythrrng! Yrr drrn't hrrv trr grrv mrr rrnythrrng ht hll!! Rrt's Chrrstmrrs! Rr, Sphrrk, Sphrrk!"

Spy was sucking on the Star like mad, and it was probably already half goo in his mouth, but all the salty tears were making it hard to tell. He ought to run away, he thought, he really ought to just go away and leave Pyro alone because nobody ever wanted him around after this kind of breakdown, but... he couldn't. He just... couldn't find the gall to run away from his friend after being given such a gracious gift. And he had absolutely no clue why. Normally he'd be out of there faster than thought.

"Thrry'rr jrrst crrkrrs, Sphrrk. Rrt's rrkrry. Rrt's rr-rrkrr-rry."

Eventually, after much of Pyro's coaxing, Spy found himself calming down.

He had to wonder why, too. He would usually pour his soul out through his eyes for hours before calming down if Engineer wasn't there with him. He ate more of the Sugar Star, and suddenly found that he felt... better. A lot better, actually. Wow. It was weird. He... actually hadn't cried like that in a while. He was still tense, but he'd forgotten how good it felt to just let everything out.

"Rrh, thrr wrr grr, hll brrtrr nrrw?"

Spy sniffed. That was really weird. He took another bite, and the sugar was even more sweet now than before, and it was just so unbelievably delicious that Spy didn't want to think about anything else.

"A-are... y-you sure you....?"

"Rr'm prrsrrtrrv. Drrn't yrr wrry hrrbrrt mrr. R mrrk crrkrrs frr rrvrryrrn hn Chrrstmrrs."

Spy half-listened and nodded. He slipped the last of the first Sugar Star into his mouth and sighed as he grabbed the second one. Ooh, so very good. Great, even. NotTim felt great, and all warm and fuzzy inside.

Since his mouth was full, and talking when your mouth is full is Rude, Spy went to write his question for Pyro in his notebook. He didn't even think about it; his hand just... started writing. But Spy didn't mind too much; it was easier to do this than it was to talk anyway.

It was a bit difficult to hold the pencil for some reason, but he got the entire message down nonetheless. Once Spy finished writing, he fumbled with his pencil before just giving up and letting it drop. He lazily brought the second Star up to his lips. Pyro didn't seem to notice his odd behavior and clapped his hands together in utter joy.

"Hrrt Chrrclrrt rrnd grrngrr snrrps? Frr Rrngrrnrr!? Rr grrdy!! Rr'd lrrv th hrrlp yrr mrrk Rrngrrnrr srrm trrhts!! Rrnd R knrr thrr prrfrrct rrcrrprr, trr!"

Pyro dashed back to find the recipe book cabinet. NotTim just sat still, nice and quiet. And tired. Why did he feel tired? And when had his cheeks started burning up? Come to think of it, his entire face felt a little hot. Very, very odd. And yet he couldn't recall ever feeling so calm before. Spy took another bite from his Sugar Star. Not even curling up with Engineer had made him feel so rela—

Spy froze. Somewhere in his brain, the pieces fell into place. He stopped mushing his bite around. His eyes locked on the Sugar Star in his hand.

"Uh, P-P-Pyro...?"

"Yrrs, Sphrrk?""

"U-um... uh... F-Flaming Sugar St-St-Stars...?"

"Rr, wrrll, yrr knrrw," Pyro made a vague gesture with his hand as he extracted a big, blue book. "Thrr frrd crrlrr rrnd hll... R mrrn, thrry lrrk lrrk thrry'rr hn fyrr, drrn't thrry?"

"Er..."

Spy felt a wave of something warm pulse echo though his stomach. It felt like there was a beach inside him, and every wave that washed up filled him with warmth. It wasn't an entirely pleasant feeling.

"Rr! Hrr's thrrs prrsky rrcrrprrs! Hrr yrr gh, Sphrrk!"

Pyro placed on the table a pair of notecards with ingredients, supplies, and instructions scribbled on them. One was labeled "Lucy's Ginger Snaps," and the other "Hot Chocolate with Nutmeg".

"U-u-uh..."

"Krrp thrrm hs lrrng hs yrr nrrd thrrm, rrnd lrrt mrr knrrw rrf yrr nrrd rrny hrrlp wrrth rrnrrthrrng!"

Spy blinked through the haze of tired that swept him up, fumbled for his notebook and his pencil that had rolled onto the floor, and tried to slip them back into his inner coat pocket. He was sweating hard under his balaclava, and he knew it.

"Th-th-thanks..." he murmured quickly, and cloaked to make a hasty getaway. NotTim was out of that kitchen and down the hall in a jiff.

Pyro tilted his head.

A few moments later, sourceless steps approached the table again, slow and embarrassed, and the notecards vanished into an invisible hand.

Pyro was happy that Spy would never see his huge smile.

and here I am asking him to help me make a present for Engineer and not him

Perfect.

A few moments later, sourceless steps approached the table again, slow and embarrassed, and the notecards vanished into an invisible hand.

Perfect.

>>55
Lightnings-Shadow, I want to take you home with me and make you write NotTim stories forever. FOREVER.

And dammit. Now I gotta draw NotTim eating cookies.

I should go see my dentist, I think I have cavities now, Lightnings-Shadows, from your story. This is too cute! I can't wait to read the rest!

>>59
Well chai that all depends, do you have an OCTOPUS AQUARIUM HOME? Because if you do then hot damn, I'm packin' my stuff. Fanart will get you anything outta me. I'm such a sucker.

>>61
I DO. GET IN YOUR OCTO-CAR AND FLOAT TO ME! http://tf2chan.net/fanart/res/25.html#i1943

>>62
DEAR GOD.
He looks so... so happy... so content...
BRILLIANT. TIME TO CATCH THE DEEP-SEA TAXI.

And since you've so special, chai, I'mma tell you this.
NotTim goes to Scout for help next, but because Scout had five of those questionable Sugar Stars and then stole two more, he's higher than a kite. Yes, Pyro put something in the Sugar Stars to get the team to chill the hell out. He just wants to listen to 'Jingle Bell Rock' in peace for once, doncha know.
NOW BE EXCITED WHEN I GET TO MY NEW HOUSE.

>>64
OOHHH. Naughty Pyro. You are so naughty!

I GOT A HUGE TANK SET UP JUST FOR YOU, BBY.

>>63

I love your Pyro and your tiny failspy. I want to hug them and you. You and your tentacles Lightening are welcome around my general person anytime.

Someone should write out that part in the chat dialog where they actually meet, or at least when the spy comes to join them, in story form. Also, can't wait to see the next part Lightning!

NotTim is possibly the best spy ever. Hopes thing eventually turns into smut, becuase it'd be both cute and hilarious

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I love NotTim so much. Not so great at writing, but I had to do this one little idea that got stuck.
Now double spaced so its easier to read.
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Spy sat curled in a corner in the Intel room. The whirring and clicking were so repetitive (it was his own secret, that he loved it and wished he could hear it in his room. It would be like a night-light for the old Scout on BLU, like he used to have. He doesn’t have it anymore because of me. His mother has it and no son). Spy pulled his knees up closer and covered his ears with his hands. The RED Intel room was safe, none of that was here for him. Here was where Engineer let him hide, and let him be without telling anyone he was there and hiding in the corner by the desk (just close enough to the glass windows that he could touch them with his arm if he breathed deep enough. But he wouldn’t because then he would leave a mark, so just close enough he could but didn’t).

There was the concrete wall behind him, cool in the summer heat, and familiar. It was his little part of wall (though, not really, but nobody bothered him for it), just for Spy. Hiding down here in his(not really his) spot was perfect. During off hours nobody else cared about the Intel room (nobody probably cared to know where he was anyway, so that was just fine), even Engineer would rather stay in the workshop.

Spy brought one hand down to bite on the glove seam; he shouldn’t have snuck in the workshop. He wanted to see what Engineer was doing, (and he couldn’t knock, because then he’d have to talk and it would be a big mess.) and snuck in the barely open door that was open so it wouldn’t get too hot, and just looked at the papers on the desk quickly. Then he ran out before his cloak would fail (because Oh God, if he was caught in the RED workshop! It was his workshop, but not really, he was BLU, but now he was RED.) Spy bit harder on the leather, freezing when it squeaked from the friction. Nobody was coming down there anyway, sitting cloaked was silly (but it would prevent him from being asked questions and having to talk if anyone did come by). He came right down that morning, before anybody was awake. And nobody would know, because Spy was ‘odd’ and did his own thing. Or they didn’t care because Spy was a traitor and killed his own team mate (not his team mate any more, but he was dead, so he was nobody’s team mate). He shook slightly, he was shaking most of the day. He only stopped shaking when he went to peek at Engineer’s work (which was bad. Spy shouldn’t have done that, Engineer would be furious if he found out). And once he was back on the stairs to the basement, he was shaking again.

Spy tugged at his hair, he was always shaking. He choked a little on the shuddering breath he was holding. He chewed his glove a bit more (he needed to stop doing that. He had already bitten holes in his other pair, and Engineer gave them to Sniper to fix. It wasn’t Sniper’s job to fix them, it was Spy’s job not to bite them.). He pinched the bridge of his nose with a shaking hand, the other finally dislodging from his grinding teeth to slip into his pocket. He pulled out his silver case of cigarettes, he couldn’t smoke here (they would know he was down there), but he couldn’t keep biting his gloves (Sniper or Engineer would have to repair them, and they were his gloves, not theirs. They were his responsibility). He slipped the filtered end between his lips and chewed on it while he struggled to light it.

The lighter clattered to the ground, skidding across the floor a few inches. Spy made a strangled noise and went back to tugging at his hair (which was stupid. He would look ridiculous with a chunk of his hair sticking out of the mask.). He looked after it, daring to shift his weight forward a little, trying to get close enough to reach it.

“Hello? Spah?” Engineer’s footsteps echoed down the hall (he must have found out Spy peeked, he must be angry.). Spy leaned back, chewing more vigorously on the cigarette and shaking even more. “You down here Spah?”

“N-n-n-n..g-g-g-“ Spy dropped his head to his knees, snapping the cigarette. “Ah. N-n-n-no” He whispered to his knees (Engineer couldn’t find him here, not like this. They’d kick him out for sure. He hadn’t been able to say anything for three days now, and now he was cowering in a basement. He was done for.). He choked back some more ragged breaths, how stupid, he should have never left his (not his) room.

“Spah?” Engineer was walking into the room now, Spy could just see it, and he would find him and laugh. Because Spy was sitting in the corner tugging out his hair and biting holes in his gloves and not even being able to light a cigarette or to tell anyone anything. Engineer stepped into the room, and looked around. He could hear something, but it could have been a computer or camera for all he knew; until he heard the faint gasping noise that was obviously not mechanically made. “Where are ya? It’s just me, c’mon. Nobody’s seen ya all day. You down here?” Oh God, Engineer sounded worried, he probably thought Spy went and told secrets to BLU, he was probably worried Spy was actually there and he would have to talk to him.

“Y-y-y-… O-ove-er h-h-he…” He tugged at his hair again and raised his head just enough to get the cloak off before letting it fall back to his knees.

“There y’are. I was wonderin’…” Engineer walked over with his slow relaxed strides. “What are y’doin’ down here all alone? Did you get any lunch yet?” Spy shook his head, he hadn’t even had breakfast yet. Not his food to take. “Come on then, let’s go get somethin’ to eat.” Engineer crouched down awkwardly (Oh, his back. He was saying how badly it hurt after the battle and now he is down here because of Spy, and it’s his fault Engineer’s back is going to hurt now) to see if Spy would respond then. He shook his head. Truthfully, something to eat might have been nice, but he was so worked up right now he felt awful. He shook again and released another breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Spy, you okay? C’mon look at me…” Engineer pulled at Spy’s arms that were wrapped around his head, tugging them away. “You alright?” Spy shook some more, Engineer was worrying over him and he shouldn’t because it was stupid to.

“Y-y-y-y… Mhmm.” He didn’t lift his head, Engineer would try to get him to, but he knew he couldn’t. He knew his face was off color and blotchy from not sleeping and from holding his breath so much. Engineer wasn’t convinced and could see some of the hair that Spy had pulled through his balaclava.

“Here, I got ya somethin’ y’might like.” Engineer reached up onto the desk, Spy lifted his head enough to see. He pulled down what he must have been carrying earlier and held it in front of him and out towards Spy. “I got ya a book, I figure if you want t’talk about anythin’ this might help.” It was a gorgeous leather bound notebook, and Spy just stared at it.

“You can take it, it’s yours. If y’want it, of course.” Engineer’s face was just there, calm and open and honest. Spy shuddered with another held breath and shook his head. “Now c’mon Spah. It’s yours, I want ya to have it.” Spy reached out experimentally (this was probably a trick, but it was Engineer, so he wouldn’t lie) and held a corner of it. Engineer pressed it further into his hand.

“There ya go. Got a nice pen upstairs too, though I figured you might want ‘em compatible with yer cloakin’ device. The pen is givin me some trouble, it’s a real novel thing. Folds up.” He smiled at Spy, who raised his head some more. “Come on, have you eaten at all yet? Y’don’t look well…” He frowned at that, but pulled himself up and offered a hand to Spy. Spy pushed himself up and kept looking back to the book in his hands, his book because Engineer knew he needed to talk. He stumbled a bit on his numb legs before gaining his footing and looking at Engineer.

“Good to go? Everyone else already ate, it’s near three…” Engineer glanced at his watch for confirmation, and was correct. “You could use some food, I reckon, and a good sleep.” Spy looked down towards his shoes and nodded slightly, shaking again with the effort to breathe steadily. Engineer started walking towards the exit, slowly waiting for the second set of near-silent footsteps to follow.

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Hopefully I didn't wreck anything- but he needs a book. How else would he communicate when he gets beyond upset.

NotTim snuck in and made himself a little nest in the warmest corner of my heart. If I ever get my writing mojo back, I have to give him a shot. Bravo to all the writers so far!

NotTim is a wonderful character. The shakes don't seem to be as intense around Engie as when he was with Pyro.

Poor Nottim! I know from experience how much fear and anxiety sucks. I wanna hug him! Your story was so sweet.

"like a night-light for the old Scout on BLU, like he used to have. He doesn’t have it anymore because of me. His mother has it and no son." That made me so sad though. That's why I love respawn. But still, BLU scout shouldn't have been a dick.

72 Yeah, I'm sorry you have to know what its like. Thanks for the compliment on it though.
I might do another one and pop it up in here... I really think NotTim is one of my new favorites.

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6835309/1/NotTims_Christmas_Dispencin_A_Present

Looks like Lightning's still writing her story. It's got a new chapter. Scout listens to Johnny Cymbal when he's high. I laughed too hard at that.

Pyro makes hash brownies! :D

These stories actually really struck a chord for me. I've had really horrible anxiety for most of my life, and at some points I was literally as bad as NotTim. The narration of his thoughts is just amazing, because it puts into words everything I was thinking and feeling at that time in my life and the unspoken "rules" that nobody got but me. Thank you for writing this. It's incredible.

I cant help but be incredibility interested in the charter of Nottim. After telling my self i was going to read it for the longest time, i finally sat down and read through it. what a unique type of character! very interesting to read about. While i certainly hope you do more, i am curious about what makes Nottim act like that? perhaps i should re-read it again (i probably will) but i would defiantly like to know a back story on this character, I've pieced together some things but i would love to hear it spelled out!

>>77
Speaking as one of the original creators, in my mind it's kind of important that he NOT have a backstory or any real reason to act like he does. I have suffered from similarly-crippling social anxiety in the past and I don't have a Tragic History or any real reason to be that way, and leaving him open like that so you can decide for yourself gives freedom to interpret him as you wish.

I CAN'T DEAL I NEED TO WRITE NOTTIM AAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGG

Holy Mary Mother of Joseph. NotTim might be the single best thing I have seen out of TF2. I'm floored by the wonderful process of his creation, and the amazing writing that's been done with him. We need to bring NotTim back. He's the most adorable thing ever, and the world needs more. (side note: I LOVE the idea of his real name being Mitton)

>>80

Please don't bump a thread that hasn't been updated in five years. They're not coming back.