Alright, first things first, yes, this is a Work In Progress, but I've gotten rather stuck and I'm not sure entirely how to continue, so I'm posting it up in the hopes of readers providing critique and feedback. Secondly, the rough concept: Basically looking into how the MediGun might work and extrapolating a situation basically summing up to a de-aged Medic with his grown up memories, including a previously established relationship with Heavy. With that out of the way, here's some fic. - - - Fountain of Youth A Team Fortress 2 fanfiction --- Summary: People always speak of their younger years, the youth and vigor they wish they still had. But the Fountain of Youth really isn't all it's cracked up to be. Medic/Heavy, possible OOC moments. --- He lay quiet in the silence of the darkened room, weary eyes watching as his bedmate slept. The little dark-haired boy lay curled in a tight ball, a spare pillow clutched to his chest with the grip only frightened children seemed capable of. It was so strange, gazing down at this small child when there should have been a grown man sharing the bed with him. But there was nothing he could do to remedy the situation, so here he lay, watching a seven-year-old child struggle through yet another nightmare. He wanted so badly to gather up that tiny trembling form in his massive arms, cradling the young one to his chest and soothing away the memories that swam up from the boy's subconscious as nightmares of a particularly terrifying variety. Except the boy had made him promise not to, pronouncing that he had dealt with the nightmares without aide before and he would do so again, so he could only watch with an ever-sinking heart as the child attempted to curl in on himself, brow furrowed as his little body quivered and shook. It hurt to see his friend in such a state, frightened and forlorn, refusing the comfort he so desperately needed. But he had promised, and he was nothing if not a man of his word. Though the sight of the boy's white-knuckled grip on the pillow and wobbly lower lip made him seriously consider going back on said word. He let out a low sigh, shifting slightly where he lay on his side, the bed creaking faintly under his considerable mass. If only his lover hadn't fallen asleep while in full gear, equipment still running and doing its job. Before this whole mess, he had never known exactly what the MediGun actually did, how it promoted accelerated cell regeneration and effectively stopped the aging process. Though, when it was overused and under-fueled… A faint whimper jerked him out of his thoughts, and he felt his chest compress painfully upon seeing tears beading on his bedmate's fine dark lashes. His heart twisted as a single tear slipped free, trailing down one pale cheek and soaking into the pillowcase. If there was one thing he simply could not stand, it was seeing his beloved Medic cry. With utmost care, he lifted one enormous palm, as wide across as the child's whole torso, and tenderly ran his thick callused fingers through those sweat-damp curls, the small gesture of comfort all he dared for fear of waking the boy. It was something he had done off and on when confronted with similar circumstances, stroking soft locks until the other was calmed. But this night, fate decided it was time to mix things up a bit. A tiny hand jerked up, pale somewhat pudgy fingers curling about his thumb in a vise-like grip. Startled, he halted his petting, his gaze falling to that little face, and tensed upon seeing a pair of brilliant blue eyes staring up at him through the gloom of night. He was most assuredly going to get a stern lecture, angry accented words berating him for not following through on his promise like he had said he would. But instead of the angry rant he had been expecting, he felt that trembling grip tighten, pulling his hand closer as those eyes filled with tears. "Bitte…" For a split-second, he only stared, not comprehending. Then he saw the look in the child's teary eyes, fear and pain and guilt, pleading with him in silence. And he knew. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around that fragile little body and hugged his dear Medic to his chest, cooing soft words of comfort as tiny hands fisted in the fabric of his nightshirt and the boy pressed his face into his collarbone, body shaking as he broke down, no longer able or willing to contain the tears. He found himself hard-pressed not to cry himself, seeing someone he had always seen as so strong-willed and confident reduced to a weeping mess. "I-It vas sehr dark, und zhere v-vas ashes f-fallingk from zhe sky- I'm sehr sorry, mein freund, I shouldn't- Es tut meir lied…" The words were muffled, broken by great hiccuping sobs as the boy tried so hard to apologize, simply for succumbing to the need for comfort in a time of extreme duress. That would not do. He gently tightened his grip about the child's little frame, careful to keep from squeezing too tightly. "Is alright, Doktor. Is alright…" Little hands curled tighter into the cotton knit. "Danke…" They would fall asleep together that night, the little Medic cradled close in the protective embrace of the enormous Russian who had been his lover not so long ago. - - - Any thoughts?
“He wanted so badly to gather up that tiny trembling form in his massive arms, cradling the young one to his chest and soothing away the memories that swam up from the boy's subconscious…†“…his bedmate's fine dark lashes.†“…a single tear slipped free, trailing down one pale cheek…†…he lifted one enormous palm, as wide across as the child's whole torso, and tenderly ran his thick callused fingers through those sweat-damp curls…†“…he halted his petting, his gaze falling to that little face, and tensed upon seeing a pair of brilliant blue eyes staring up at him through the gloom of night.†“Then he saw the look in the child's teary eyes, fear and pain and guilt, pleading with him in silence.†“Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around that fragile little body and hugged his dear Medic to his chest, cooing soft words of comfort as tiny hands fisted in the fabric of his nightshirt and the boy pressed his face into his collarbone, body shaking as he broke down…†You’re writing a story about a physically forty-something man in bed, however ‘platonically’ it may be, and his physically seven lover/ex-lover. Whether you mean it that way or not, you are dangling on the precipice of quite possibly the most emotionally-charged, most violently objectionable subject matter our culture has to offer. That's fine, I suppose. Somebody has to talk about these sorts of things eventually. But if you want to tell this story, you have to be very, very careful about the words you choose and the images you invoke, and right now, you’re using the kinds of words and images commonly found in soft-core pornography. That’s really not okay. First order of business, before I give any further suggestions, is for you to figure out how to express this story without coming off as having really questionable motives.
If you say this is a work in progress in the title, why is it not in the workshop? My thoughts are... uh, the post before me put it better. Suffice to say, this could be cute in an incredibly sappy way (which is perfectly acceptable, I'm sure I wouldn't be the only one here to admit sappy stuff can be fun to read). Or it could be creepy as a hobo with his hand down the front of his pants. You might ask someone to help you with wording, even if you're totally confident in your writing- all it'd take is one bad choice of words to turn this into something you aren't trying to make it. I don't know where you're going with this, so I don't know what the plot might actually be, but I'd be wondering why Medic-transformed-into-a-little-kid isn't somewhere with the other teammates that have two brain-cells to rub together, trying to figure out how he can be made back into an adult and, thus, someone who is legally and morally suitable to be fighting and dying in an ongoing mercenary conflict. Is he just physically and emotionally a child right now, or has he also forgotten the past 40-50 years? Does he still have all of his adult knowledge to draw from?
Well, this was not put in afanfic so the pedophilia parallels never came to my mind. Since the story included pronouncing that he had dealt with the nightmares without aide before and he would do so again I assume Medic still has all his adult memories intact, his body has just been shrunk. Of course this is extremely problematic, for starters he won't be able to fight and heal if he's too small to even tote his Medigun around. Then you have the fact that a child is just no match for a grown mercenary. I bet the Administrator, if she ever finds out, would get pissed at Medic just for being unable to do his job. This also begs the question why Medic fell asleep while still fully equipped. The pack certainly isn't something comfortable to sleep with. Then there's how this is going to get fixed. A chemical? Medigun experimentation? Help from Engineer? Dicking around with moustachium bars? Sorcery? Then there's the shame Medic has to deal with. He's experiencing nightmares, likely childhood memories. Is it just because he's smaller (vulnerable) now that his mind is bringing these up, or is there a psychological effect of the Medigun at work? Is Medic going to start regressing mentally as well? That would put a time limit to finding a cure as soon as possible, especially with Medic being the one who knows the most about his invention. One of those "the best cardiovascular surgeon just had a heart attack!" situations. Then there are the memories themselves. Everyone in TF2 has a sketchy history but the Europeans I imagine they had to deal with events surrounding WWII while growing up. Again, for a person who routinely slices off body parts with a bonesaw with a smile on his face, Medic likely won't take well exposing his vulnerabilities to others. Even (or perhaps especially) Heavy, who Medic could find difficult to share his past with. Finally you have the rest of the team. To say the least, they're not used to being "domestic" and if Medic starts to slip into a child mindset there might be some humorous shenanigans coping with that.
Thank you for expressing your concerns over the subject matter at had, I did in fact think over the possible implications at hand and am happy to note that it was never my intention to edge into the creeper territory. The rough idea came from a very sweet picture of a tiny Medic being defended and taken care of in a very fatherly way by his Heavy, and it got me to thinking on how the Medic had ever gotten so small. If I find the picture again, I'll post it here. As for the memory loss idea, I was sort of playing with that a bit, as it would add an extra note of stress, but at the time of writing, I was going off the idea that Medic is currently only physically/emotionally a child. The memories that he dealt with as a grown man are made stronger and much harder to deal with by the emotional strength of a young child, so he's having a very hard time dealing with the nightmares they create. Falling asleep with the pack on was basically a moment of cliche with the doctor being his usual workaholic self and having gotten tuckered out after a long day of battle followed by the long after-battle of getting last minute injuries healed up and then having to fight through whatever notes/paperwork what have you. Since the MediPak (in my headcanon) provides a mild surge of adrenalin, he would be using the MediPak like most people use coffee and energy drinks, and then passed out with it either still on or very nearby. Thank you, this is really helping me get things ironed out in my head.