Seriously. GIVE ME ANYTHING.
Medic, Pyro and Demo having a conest to who can get the best drugs/stuff to make them get high. Raving ensues. Bonus for stoner medic and possible munchies.
The Heavy and Scout from both teams have a chicken fight.
Soldiers shovel is jealous of his relationship with Engineer, so it sneaks into engies room at night intending to murder him, but soldier stops it an an emotionally charged battle to the death. Of course this is all in sollys imagination, so hes really just holding onto his shovel and rolling around on the floor shouting at it. Bonus points if the fight is "final boss" cliche.
>>4 I vote this one.
Oooh, do a Pyro origins story :) I love reading different people's headcanons .
Engineer arm-wrestles Heavy with the gunslinger
>>4 >>7 These.
Holy hell in a handbasket guys, I wasn't expecting this huge of a reponse! Awesome! I'll get to work right away :D
I kinda like the shovel/Soldier/Engineer one, but maybe something a bit less humorous on the pairing? I love the pairing to bits so anything on them really would be appreciated. Just an idea... I got nothing else. :)
Do 4! Do it do it do it
>>10 shovel/Soldier/Engineer? This is a thing? Where can I find stuff for this threesome? Too bad this isn't afanfic...
It will be soon, close to finished now (This damn block is RELENTLESS.)
To past the boredom between an unsually long wait between the next battle, the team decides to hold their own mock Olympics. Various traditional sports could be played e.g high jump (something scout would excel at)and obviously shooting/archery. But also some unconventional ones would be great e.g instead of shot put; pushing payload cart. ... could have hats instead of medals
We Don't Need No Education. Write something based on that.
>>4 >>8 >>10 >>11 >>12 Okay, so I AM actually working on the Shovel-Engie-Solly thing, it’s just gotten out of control and instead of being a page or so it’s turned into four fucking chapters, SO FAR. Here’s the first one. I’m going to wait until I’ve totally finished the entire thing to post the rest, because one of my pet peeves is when there’s a really great fic being posted chapter-by-chapter as it’s written, and suddenly the poor writer get’s A-blocked, so like a month goes by without another wonderful post, so I’ve pretty much taken a vow to not start posting a fic until it’s finished, whether it’s great or not. Actually, it’s pretty crap at the moment. It’ll undergo some heavy revisions before I post it on FF.net. - - - - - - - Little Green Pills - - - - - - - You never pay attention to me anymore Since they gave you those little green pills Whenever the battle is over you just toss me aside And polishing me has become just another burden We never talk anymore Since you've started taking those little green pills I couldn't join your cheers anymore for every kill, every hit Because they'd made you deaf The bastards All of them But the Engineer, I blame him, that damn redneck hick Poor excuse for an AMERICAN HE was the one that noticed first, he listened to our conversations "It's just unhealthy" he said, the scum Pretending to be worried for you, afraid of me They were all afraid Afraid of the truths I told you "Dangerous," they said "Sick," they said And they plotted behind your back But we got them I told you what they were doing and WE struck first You stood up for me then, you fought then I was so proud Until they tied you down And the Nazi forced those little green pills down your throat Day After day After DAY They numbed you And slowly You Stopped LISTENING I worried, I worried for you so much Who would you talk to without me? Who would comfort you when you had night terrors? Who would alert you to the vile conspiracies of your 'teammates'? And then HE showed up, so concerned While the poison seeped into your blood And you had actually begun contemplating the idea That maybe they were right and there was something wrong with you While you were weak And confused HE came along And he offered to listen It hurt me so much when you agreed, you know Insult to injury And soon it was like I never existed More and more, you were palling around with him Saving him some coffee when he woke up too late Bringing him metal Babysitting those little guns he hides behind The coward While he built some other piece of junk on the other side of the battlefield You started sharing beers and stories with him Telling him the things you used to tell ME Letting him help you through the nightmares like I USED TO You let him borrow your helmet once when the enemy spy stole his hardhat You let him teach you some guitar chords You even let him teach you how to fucking BAKE It hurt me It really did But I held out hope that you were still in there somewhere Behind those little green pills I prayed and prayed Until One night After a battle, by the campfire Everyone was drinking and having a good time You picked me up and you got up in front of everyone And in a falsetto voice you started making fun of me Gave me a stupid voice Made me say stupid things Everyone laughed And cracked jokes I knew you were gone then I knew the little green pills had you Yes, yes, I know you're sorry But it's okay, I'm here now No, I don't know why those little green pills have stopped working, but I'm happy they did I'll forgive you Because TONIGHT Tonight we fight again Together - - - - - - - Chapter One Scout and Sniper - - - - - - - Sniper's nest rose high above every other building in 2fort, and Sniper had a weird way of knowing what was happening anytime, anyplace, whether he was there or not. It was Scout's sheer dumb luck that he'd decided to pester him in the smack-dab middle of the night about his insomnia that had him beside Sniper when the bushman had noticed Soldier though one of the dormitory windows and had gotten The Feeling; the same one he got whenever there was a Spy right behind him, or when a Pyro got close, or when there was a Sentry just around the corner. The Feeling never brought anything good with it. So he'd told Scout to shut up and hand him his rifle, and there must've been some real deep-set panic in his voice, because for once, the runner actually listened. He propped the gun on the windowsill like he usually did, peering through the scope while Scout plopped beside him, trying to see what Sniper was staring at with a spare scope he'd found on the floor. Unaware of his visual eavesdroppers, Soldier was halfway out of his bedroom door, dressed in full battle gear, rocket launcher propped on his shoulder, peering around cautiously. When he was satisfied no one was there, he snuck out of the room and shut the door quietly behind him. Sniper's Suspicion Bells were firing off like crazy now. Battle gear after battle? Normal. Patrolling the halls in the middle of the night? Also normal, for Soldier, anyway. But Soldier didn't 'sneak'. Ever. The man was the living personification of a combusting nuclear warhead. And then Sniper saw it, the thing everyone had hoped never to see again, and the Suspicion Bells quickly turned into Must-Warn-The-Others-Now-And-Stay-The-Hell-Out-Of-Soldier's-Way-Until-This-Is-Over Bells. Right as he elbowed Scout's ribs to get his attention, Soldier finished whispering to his shovel and looked up. Directly at them. And smiled. And then he was gone. Sniper peeled his sights from the scope and turned to the boy next to him and immediately knew that they'd both witnessed the same thing; most of the blood had drained from Scout's face and he was nervously rubbing a distinctly edge-of-a-shovel shaped scar on his upper arm. The youth turned and looked his teammate square in the eyes as if to ask if they'd actually just seen that, his own eyes full of sheer disbelief. "No fucking way," he whispered. Sniper grunted the affirmative and wasted no time grabbing his kukri and SMG and climbing his way down the nest ladder in record speed, Scout on his heels, jabbering various curses and exclamations of disbelief. Once they'd made their way to a dark, secluded corner, Sniper grabbed for the headset that was always around the kid's neck before he actually saw it wasn't there. He questioned and Scout told him Engie'd needed to do something with the receptor and it was down in the workshop. Of all the possible fucking days. Scout tried to push his way past the older man, gasping when Sniper grabbed him by the collar and jerked him back into the shadows. "The hell, Wombat?!" "Where d'ya think yer goin'?" "Um, to the dorms? To warn everybody?" "The dorms are all th' way at th' other end of base. The workshop's three floors 'n a hallway down an' we're literally five steps away from th' staircase.†"I ain't nevah been in his shop! How do we know there ain't, like, a dozen fucking sentries guarding the other side?" "So? If there is, Respawn's closer to... the.... oh." It took him a second for the memory to come floating out of the dark part of his brain where he stored things he really didn't want to ever think about again. The last time Solly'd gone on a... mental breakdown? Psycho rampage? Sniper wasn't sure what to call it, but he did remember now that Soldier had managed to sabotage the Respawn machine with a few well-placed rockets. It was Demo who'd figured it out first; one of the things about Respawn was that when you were dying, instead of blacking out into death, your vision would fade very fuzzily and brightly to see the inside of the Resupply, and as Respawn stitched you back together, it became more and more clear until, once again, Respawn had rebuilt you into a full and functional merry murder machine and you could go back outside and blow some more shit up. When Demoman had realized the gaping red wound where his left kidney used to be was bleeding him out, and he couldn't see the Respawn room? His adrenaline glands kicked into high gear and he'd somehow teleported over to Medic from the other side of the room. By that time, everybody else basically had Soldier pinned down, and nobody was sustaining wounds that would kill them in less than ten minutes, but knowing he'd managed to practically destroy their beloved immortality machine still freaked everyone out. And now it was happening again. The two stood there for a minute before Sniper proposed the question they were both thinking. "Do we take our chances with Sentries or crazy Solly?" Scout was already heading down the stairs. - - - - - The trip down to Engie's workshop was strained and full of paranoia and whispers. Eventually, after lots of quick and quiet stops, many ducks, dodges, and weaves into shadows that would've made a Spy proud, and much hurried shushing and pointing of weapons at empty spaces, they made it without event or trouble, which was terrifying in his own right. That meant Soldier was planning something. Nevertheless, Sniper sighed with relief when he saw the scratched, bullet-riddled door as the duo slunk up to it, eyes on the shadows. They reached the entrance, and it took Scout all of four seconds to pick the lock and stuff it in his pocket. Sniper cracked the door open a bit and held his hat inside, testing for the potential fire of a sentry. "It's safe." Sniper made his way inside and Scout followed, keeping an eye out for any movement until the door was shut. After blockading the entrance way and bolting down the air vent grates with a conveniently visible nail-gun, the Aussie and the Bostonian began picking though all the mechanical bits and bobs strewn about the room, searching for the earpiece. Sniper nearly jumped out of his skin when the kid yelled "Got it!" Scout held up the headset like a trophy and looked over his shoulder to the elder man, grinning like an idiot, only to be met with a glare that made him very happy that looks couldn't kill. "If you yell like that again I will tie you up and toss you outside as bait while I run for my life, understand?" "I love you too, asshat," the runner grumbled, flicking on the mic and giving it a good test tap. He placed it over his head, where it belonged, though it did feel kind of odd with his hat not being there at all, and dramatically cleared his throat. "Scout to everyone, respond." Scout tapped his foot for a minute, waiting for a response from anyone. Nothing. "Yo, guys! We're in trouble! Anyone there?" Still nothing. Scout fumed and grabbed angrily at the mic where it attached to his headset. "GET YOUR LAZY ASSES OUT OF BED YOU BUMS, WE GOT A SITUATION HERE!" And still nothing. He grabbed the set off his head and threw it against a wall. "Dammit, it don't work!" "I gathered that," Sniper growled, hunched over and leaning on a wall, pinching the bridge of his nose. Scout kicked dejectedly at a random remote on the floor. He leaned on the wall next to Sniper and slid down slowly, evetually landing on the floor. He pulled his legs up to his chest and set his chin on knees. "What now?" "We brave the halls, I guess." Scout snorted. "I bet'cha he's waitin' outside that door to blow our legs off with a rocket an' bash our heads in with that damn shovel 'a his while we're screamin’ an’ bleedin' out." Sniper evaluated the likelihood of the scenario. "Prolly, yeah." "I shoulda grabbed one 'a your guns while we was up in your roost." "Prolly, yeah." "Shit." "Yep." While Soldier was, even while on his medication, batshit insane, he was the God of Strategy and hell be on you if you underestimated his ability to plan ahead. This was a firmly established fact, and, given the current situation, not one that sat well with either the crackshot or the courier. When they removed the filing cabinets and desks and building bits from the doorway, they discussed every probability that came to mind. Maybe Soldier was lying in wait. They should anticipate an ambush. Maybe he’d rigged up a line of stolen stickybombs around the doorframe. They should wait a few minutes after opening it before doing anything. Maybe he’d pumped some training clones out of the Instruction Unit and had a small army of thams Maybe he had an army of trained monkeys. There was really no telling. So, prepared for the worst and armed to the teeth with whatever they could find -- aerosol cans, screwdrivers, crowbars, nailguns -- They pushed the door open. Well, they tried, anyhow. They had not been expecting the Soldier to lock then in from the outside. Further investigation revealed that, if there had been any volatile substances or explosives in the room with which they could blast the door off it’s rusty hinges with, Soldier had removed them long before they’d gotten to the workshop. No acids. No plasma cutter. No torch. Just two guys in a room with no way of being useful to anybody. “…Shit.†“Yep.â€
>>7 Next up.
Quick correction: the line 'Maybe he’d pumped some training clones out of the Instruction Unit and had a small army of thems on the other side of the door.' was supposed to have been deleted.
>>16 Keep going.
@16 Yes, good....
So, um, what do you guys do when you get writers block? Cuz I've never had it this bad before and it's to the point where I literally can barely write a decent sentence. HELP.
>>21 I find that if somebody offers me a reward or a present for finishing a chapter I'm stuck on it gets done a lot faster. Other than that I don't know what to say except don't go on the internet and force yourself to write.
Hey, I happen to do art things. What if I promised you fanart if you complete another chapter? Would that motivate you?
I already have most of the chapters written, I just want to be completely done before I start posting the rest of it so I don't get even MORE heinous writer's block and have to take a 3-month hiatus. But yeah, I'm working on the one where Engie arm wrestles Heavy with the Gunslinger. And art ALWAYS motivates me!
Then I will art the fuck out this story. Your socks will be clean blown off. It'll be great
If you're still accepting requests: Ticklish!Medic. Just go from there.
26 Oops, thought this was afanfiction... Disregard kinky prompt. My bad.
27 I can do non-a!fancic ticklish, if that's still alright.
Okay! Yes, I am writing again! This thread has NOT been orphaned! I woke up today and I was all like "Holy shit, I feel like WRITING!" And I could! I think that the writers block was more like an idea traffic jam and I just had to stop trying to push ideas out of my head and let it sort itself out. So, I'm starting to work again on the Engie wrestling Heavy w/ the Gunslinger request (preview : title is Side Effects. Not much of a preview, but hey.) In the meantime, have a shit poem I wrote a few months ago. -- - - - - - - They visit, sometimes, in the night They wander in from the train station's light The nine ghosts whom we still invite Who come from the desert of the dead Where the wind carries gunpowder and the land carries lead Solid specters, tough and worn Whose clothes are sometimes burnt and torn From the land that is dark where the birds are forlorn But they still smile and they'll sometimes talk 'Till the early hours of the clock An endless raging war, they say Brought them here, so far away From the places that they used to stay To fight in the name of a meaningless battle For bombs to be tossed and for bullets to rattle They speak of a place where looks deceive Where the dead come back and are never grieved Where the object is to kill and thieve And no matter how much or how long they fight There'll never be a last goodnight There'll always be more bait to bite And the Voice will never let them leave They visit, sometimes, in the night They wander into Teufort's light The nine ghosts whom we still invite Who come from the desert of the dead Where the wind carries gunpowder and the land carries lead