#tf2 against chairs series | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

typingatlightspeed · 7 months

Text

TF2 Fanfic - Real

Medic's spicy dreams about Heavy cause him a bit of consternation. Meanwhile, Heavy needs the answers to a few questions before he makes his move. He's confident in the answer he'll recieve, however. Medic has just a moment of trouble believing that this time, it's not just his brain being the way it is.

A gift for the wonderful @poopyboiman! Sorry it took a bit! This past week has been busy af with the larp and work afterward. <3 I borrowed just a touch of your Medic headcanon re: him having psychosis. I hope it's tastefully done, and please lmk if it's not, I don't wanna be shitty by accident, yanno? Thank you so much again, and I hope you enjoy!

Ao3 Link! It actually works now cause somehow I fucked it up and didn't realize til now! OTL

---------

Heavy charged into Medic's office, slamming the door open. Determination was written across his stern, handsome features as he strode with purpose across the space until he reached the desk. He slammed his hands down on its metal surface, leaning forward into Medic's personal space. The doctor looked up at him, his heart leaping in his chest in a mixture of surprise, fear, and utter, animal lust. Heavy was dangerous. He knew it well, but here, the giant's glacial-blue eyes upon him, looking down almost imperiously, it made that fact all the more stark.

"Doktor," Heavy spoke, his voice a low rumble that fairly hummed through Medic's entire body. "Tired of games. Tired of teasing. Tired of flirting. I do not care for this, so I will tell you plain: make love to me."

Medic jawed dumbly at the air, his words leaving him, his voice unable to come, his body frozen. His deepest desires come true, fantasies on the cusp of realization, and he couldn't even move. He stared up at Heavy with wide eyes, near-hyperventilating as he tried to respond.

Heavy's brow furrowed at the doctor's silence, his face twisting into a grimace of determination. With a flare of his nostrils he swept everything off of the desk with one mighty paw and took hold of Medic by his coat, hefting him onto the desktop like he were light as air. He closed in, his nose brushing Medic's, lips so close he could feel their heat on his own. "Kiss me."

Medic did. And soon he was pinned beneath Heavy's bulk, his hands running over his body, touching everything they could, tearing at his clothes as his tongue pushed into Medic's mouth, their breaths puffing hotly together, the doctor's hands slipping under Heavy's shirt to thread fingers through the dense, fluffy hair that covered his chest and belly.

One of Heavy's hands slipped under the curve of Medic's back, lifting him, letting them grind together despite the creaks of protest coming from the metal desk.

"Oh Gott, Heavy!" Medic cried, arching against the massive man.

"Gott—" Medic snorted, his face nearly slamming into the desk as it slipped from his hand, where his cheek and chin had been resting as he dozed. Medic shook his head blearily and tried to regain his bearings, looking around. Where was Heavy? Why was he in his chair? What time was it?

Medic sighed and huffed out a curse, looking down at the paperwork in front of him. He'd fallen asleep while going over statistics from the last quarter's respawn records. Again. With a yawn and a stretch, he frowned as his spine let out a series of loud pops and a few crackles. He'd been slumped there for who knew how long, and was going to pay for it with a sore back the rest of the day.

He'd much rather be sore in other places, he thought, thinking back to his dream. Just when they were getting to the good part, too. He shook his head. If only he'd be lucky enough for something like that to happen in reality.

He sighed dreamily, picking up a small scrap of paper and crumpling it idly. Could he really blame himself? Heavy was a perfect specimen! Handsome, intelligent, clever, just a bit silly, and very, very large. Medic was no small man, so to meet another man so much larger than himself made a very immature yet very animal part of his brain light up. Heavy was just so... big.

Medic giggled a little to himself at the thought, picturing the giant picking him up like a blushing bride with little effort. The thought sent a giddy thrill through him. To be manhandled with such ease...

He adjusted his trousers a bit and fought to turn his thoughts to something less physically frustrating. After all, he could handle that when he was back in his quarters later. For now, he needed to find a good stopping point in his actual work before—

"Doktor?"

Medic's eyes shot wide open as he looked up, almost startled by the sudden voice in the room. He was used to sudden voices, of course, but rarely ones so relevant to his current train of thought. He scrubbed at his chin, hoping there was no drool dried there from his accidental nap, and let out a nervous titter, communicating his surprise. Heavy stood at the door, the giant's expression as soft as his neutral expression could be, a gentle warmth coloured by just a bit of trepidation as he realized he'd startled the other man.

"Sorry, should have knocked. I am bothering you?" Heavy asked, courteous but not particularly worried. It was rare that Medic wasn't pleased to invite him in, even if he were busy.

Medic waved at the air as if dispersing the idea like it were a foul odor. "Absolutely not, my friend. Please, come in! I was just going over the respawn records for this quarter."

"Administrator still wants you to do this?" Heavy asked, closing the door behind him and trundling into the room proper.

"Ach, ja. Ever since that one match where the respawn system just kept spewing out raw biomass instead of Scout, she's had me watching the data under a microscope."

"Engineer found out what was wrong, didn't he?"

"Ja, something about an arbitrary code execution accidentally performed by Scout during the match causing the temporary effect data to overflow with garbage data, making the system that calls respawn profiles to crash. He said that garbage data was why it was just ejecting biomass, starting and stopping the process with no profile to build from once the materials were loaded."

Heavy stared at Medic.

"I, largely, have no idea what that means either," Medic chuckled.

"Engineer. He speak English, but those words mean nothing in that order."

Medic giggled at that. "I do not think we would understand it even if we were raised speaking it."

Heavy hefted a short laugh at that. "Sad you have to read data. Should be his job."

"He has the raw numbers side. I merely have to ensure the respawn profiles are accurate and active. He has it worse, I assure you."

"This is fine," Heavy shrugged, approaching the desk. He laid one hand atop its edge, and Medic's eyes lingered on it. He remembered his dream, and Heavy sweeping everything off of the desk in a clatter and flutter, dramatic and romantic, and his heart sped up at the mere thought. If only.

"So," Medic said, trying to keep his voice even as his imagination decided to overact, "did you need me for something?"

Heavy nodded, just barely, with an almost affected casualness. "Yes. Curious. On field today, BLU Demoman say that he is... shagging your wife?"

Medic shook his head ruefully. Such an immature insult. Though calling the other team Frauleins was probably not much better, really. "Ach, ja. Shagging means—"

"I know what this means. Sniper and Demoman say it much. I learn from context," Heavy explained. "No. I want to know: you have wife?" He lifted an eyebrow, looking almost skeptical as he asked, like he knew the answer and couldn't believe otherwise.

Medic shook his head with a giggle. "Me? A wife? Hoo, nein, nein," he said, waving a hand to dismiss the very thought. "It was simply an insult appropriate for a middle-aged man, I suppose. I never married, no."

Heavy nodded, slowly. "This surprises me."

"It does?" Medic cocked his head to the side. He hadn't been aware he would have given that sort of impression. "How so?"

"You said. You are middle-aged man."

"So are you, my friend," Medic teased with a smile, which made Heavy's lip quirk in amusement.

"True. But you are also handsome doktor. Women would throw selves at you."

Handsome? In spite of himself, a soft pinkness rose to Medic's cheeks. It was flattering, of course, but rather surprising to hear his friend say it. "Ja, well," he fussed with the papers on his desk to try and deflect a bit, "mein work and dedication to it tends to drive away any interested parties."

Interested parties. Interesting word choice. Heavy nodded softly again. "So you have had no time for love?"

"Eheh, not at all. I've found a few who've caught my eye over the years, but very few can handle my line of work, and my passion for medical science. Generally, graphic discussions of open-heart surgery tend to be a turn-off for most romantic partners."

"Fools," Heavy grunted. "It is your passion."

"Exactly!" Medic replied with a grin. "There are few things in the world more intimate, more fascinating! Why should I not share it with the one I love? Ach, but even the mention tends to make people... squeamish."

"You operate on me often," Heavy mused, smiling a bit.

Medic's blush grew a bit stronger. "Eheh, yes, well—"

Heavy's smile grew a bit broader, a bit more conspiratorial. "I have another question, if you have time."

Grateful for the change of topic, Medic perked up. "Of course, mein Freund."

Heavy leaned into Medic's space just a bit. "I want to know if you are busy after work all of week."

Medic reeled back a bit, thinking. "Today is..."

"Tuesday."

"Tuesday, ja. So Thursday I have to tune-up Spy's uberheart device and give Soldier his next dose of rabies treatment. Friday, Demoman needs another new liver..."

"Tomorrow?"

"Wednesday? I...don't think I have anything scheduled, no."

"Good. Come with me to town? We can get coffee."

Medic's eyes went wide in horror. "Coffee? Are we out already? I just got some last week! I swear, if Mundy went through our entire supply already—"

"No, Doktor, no," Heavy sighed, shaking his head with a rueful chuckle. "We can get coffee. Together."

Medic stared, his brain refusing to shift gears and properly comprehend what he thought Heavy had just said.

"On a date," Heavy clarified, holding back a laugh. Medic was adorable when he was confused, especially with how rarely yet dramatically it happened.

"A date?" Medic echoed, his heart leaping to action. He met Heavy's eyes, wrinkles at their corners creasing as he smiled fondly down at him. He was so handsome. Too handsome. Medic looked down at the crumpled piece of paper he'd been playing with and looked back to Heavy. Was he real? Was this just a particularly complicated audio-visual hallucination? It wouldn't be the first. This was a lot for something that wasn't real. But not impossible. He flicked the piece of paper at Heavy, heaving out a relieved sigh when it bounced off of the confused giant's belly.

A broad smile crossed Medic's too-white teeth, and he looked back up the giant, eyes full of hope. "A date? You are serious?"

"Of course," Heavy shrugged. "We are good friends."

Medic frowned. "Friends."

"So I think: maybe we can be more than friends?" Heavy clarified. "You tell me you are single. You avoid saying women when talking about love life. You tell me surgery you do on me is very intimate." He leaned further into Medic's space, placing both palms atop the desk and dominating the space. "You are very handsome, Doktor."

Medic swallowed hard, his heart racing, his cheeks red, his trousers once again growing uncomfortable as Heavy leaned over the desk, grinning so handsomely and bringing back thoughts of his dream. Even if this were just some multi-layered wet dream, he hoped to never awaken. But here, with the giant so close, looking so self-assured, Medic was reasonably sure this was truly, wholly real. And he felt dizzy for it.

"So what do you say, Doktor?"

Medic swallowed hard. Playing it cool was for suckers. "I say why wait for after work?" He leaned in, bringing their faces close, challenging Heavy. "I'll make us coffee in the morning."

Heavy quirked an eyebrow, booming out a delighted laugh as Medic stood from his seat and swept the desktop clean with his hand, sending papers flying everywhere. Soon, Medic's back slammed onto the desktop, and Heavy was atop him.

#TF2 Fanfic #Team Fortress 2 #TF2 #TF2 Red Oktoberfest #TF2 Heavy #TF2 Medic

90 notes · View notes

the-tf2-gremlin · 2 years

Text

PROLOGUE: IN THE SHADOWS OF GIANTS, THE BEGINNING

WARNING: THIS SERIES CONTAINS STRONG LANGUAGE, MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE, VIOLENCE TAMPERING WITH GENETICS, DARK THEMES, POST TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER, AND OTHER VARIOUS DARK AND UNSETTLING SUBJECTS. ALSO BEING A TF2 FANFIC, YOU BEST EXPECT DARK HUMOR AND SOME ABSOLUTE RIDICULOUS ANTICS AND SHENANIGANS. READER DISCRESTION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

“Schiesse!” The man yelled, slamming his gloves fists on his desk. Yet another failure. Another one. How long could he keep this up?! There was no other way this would work, they had zero options outside of his brilliantly insane mind and perhaps a touch of… otherworldly help. But, whatever the cost he was willing to pay it. No matter how much or HOW MANY it cost. Playing God or Satan, it did not matter. He’s survived worse. It has been one year today, since everything ended. And, their life could begin.

The thought brought a faded smile to his face. Heh, the day they said they’d get hitched, as their Texan companion put it. They held true to that, after fighting side by side and somehow not dying (too many times) and staying by each other’s sides for over… goodness, 8 years now. How fondly he remembers each of the day he spent with his large Russian lover, how gentle and domestic they could be together. OR, how rough and tumble or wolf they could be, especially when they were rolling around in the sheets-

On one of the first years they had known one another, his large (by the scales of ANY recorded homo sapiens records known to him a history, he was possibly the largest man born to date!), his companion at the time just budding beyond a friend confessed something very important to him. Something only his family knew he so badly desired, and always wanted, but knew he could never have of his own.

A family, with his very own children. Adoption he would be more than happy with, but the German could see it in his eyes. The Russian deeply desired to have children of his own, but due to his sexual orientation and lack of scientific process and technology, that would ever happen. It broke Ludwig’s heart to see his Misha so devastated. Ever since that day even over 6 years later, Misha never spoke about again. Not even to his beloved Docktor. This HURT Ludwig in unspeakable ways. In ways he never knew he could feel. And ways he never wanted to feel again. Weak. Vulnerable. Things HE would never accept.

Despite it all, he had to try. Misha would be aghast, outraged, and possibly hate him for this but…. It was the only way in his mind. Using a surrogate mother would never work. Being former hit men, mercenaries, and being labeled as a deranged lunatic and POSSIBLY getting banned out of some parts of Germany and Europe for his… PRACTICES… he knew the US would be much less kind about it. There were options of… Other methods of conceiving a child or children, but Misha would never allow it. For both out of fear of the child’s safety, and of course the willing mother who’d be the ones aiding to provide them their children... But then the children wouldn’t be fully… THEIRS. This BOTHERED him to no end. No. Nothing less would be an option.

So, it left Ludwig with very little choice. Being the well practiced man of science we was (FORMERLY BY NAME AND A PIECE OF PAPER), he’d have to do everything from scratch. Every. Single. THING. Each attempt was worse then the last. What was he doing WRONG? (Logically not morally. Morality could kiss his hintern.) This last attempt was worse than the first! Ugh, no matter what he tried things went WRONG! The one time he wasn’t being selfish he CANNOT, CANNOT make it work! Or… perhaps it was very selfish. This thought made him pause and lean back in his high back leather chair, his elbows resting on the desk, papers in organized chaos, his fingertips touching and drumming against the other hand. Why did it bother him now? It never had before…

Something tugged at his mind and stole away his thoughts. A faint waft of something, sickly sweet and fancy. Only one idiot would wear such a atrocious scent, or MUSK Medic called it just to piss the asshole off. Skunk spray, or pepper spray for the nostrils. Normally, he was always very isolated in his lab spaces, but oddly enough he’s been finding tidbits of a RAT lingering. Possibly a French one at that. Things missing, items tampered with or even remnants of his once considered Texan freundin!! A wreck here, a loosened valve, SHATTERED BODY SIZED TEST TUBES?! And how precise it all was done. The handiwork of a very OCD mechanic he knew too well. He’d been hanging around with the French hologram far too long. The snake was rubbing off on the Texan…

Not only did he consider one of them a friend, but to have THEM tamper with his things?! Engie would have MURDERED anyone if they do much as moved something out of place. Unless it was Pyro. He always has a huge soft spot for his mumbling muffled companion. It made his blood boil. He KNEW they thought what he was doing was wrong, and he was taking this WAY too far. He knew this time, in his dim lab he wasn’t alone. Unfortunately for them, he was i n a particularly, VIOENT MOOD. Thankfully he had something to take his aggression out on now.

Perhaps, this was an intervention. Perhaps, this was to prove his own mortality and his fragile he was. No respawns, neither of the engineers on either side could replicate it. Their tests ended worse off then they started, dead. They didn’t realize there are fates worse than death itself. He was living proof of that.

“Doctor. Zhis has to stop.” The slippery sauve voice echoes softly from around the room, never remaining in one place. Damn that man, they’ve been working together. The skinny spasti… With a sigh he rolls his frozen blue eyes and turned in his swirly chair, one leg nicely resting on his knee, noting his sense of ease. If he was going to have to kill again, he was VERY WILLING. It was a GREAT stress reliever. Plus he always needed more cadavers. The more the merrier!

“Ahhhh, longh time no zee, Spy. Too bad I cannot vhich it is. Zhe war iz over, mein freund, no reason to say such schilly zhings!” He says sheepishly, with a hint of annoyance flicking at the end his words, the last bit slipping between his grit teeth. Now looking back, he realized what a massive disadvantage he was at. Being in a tight penned area with a spy was NEVER ideal. Especially with all his precious items and being closer each day to getting what he needed… he cannot risk it.

“Doc, ‘nough playin’ ‘round. This is SERIOUSLY WRONG even fer a man like ya!” The thick Texas accent rang through the dark like a knife. That one cut deep. He always viewed the Engineer as a friend… Staying perfectly calm on the outside was easy. On the inside, however, he felt his heart speed up, jaw set hard and his blood BOIL. That betrayal HURT. Unfortunately, he hates back stabbers just as much as their Sniper did. With a sharp exhale through the nose and staring down at his gloved hands, he knew he’d have to amend his current problem, CAREFULLY. And with as minimal damage as possible. Unfortunately, he was on the losing side.

“Doctor, zhis is zhe end of zhe line. Zhis is your final warning. CEASE AND DESIST, NOW!” The spy snapped with such anger it actually caused Ludwig to raise his eyebrows. Normally he never showed such aggression to a comrade on his team unless they REALLY struck a nerve. Or unless they were Scout. That scene was always hilarious to watch, Spy losing his composure within a second of Scout just opening his mouth to say something.

Fascinating. The Engineer sighed softly before the sound of a hard hat making contact to a mechanical hand, with a loud sigh. Ludwig didn’t even need to see him to see his former friend adjusting his goggles that indented his face around his eyes causing permanent rings making the man look as exhausted as he always was.

“Doc, please. Ya have no idea what danger yer puttin’ not only yerself but ALL OF US with this, this little game of yers! This ain’t safe, it’s not natural, think about your husband for God’s sake! What would he think of he saw ya doin’ this?! And what would happen if either the government or the god forsaken RED OR BLUE TEAM LEADERS HEAR ‘BOUT THIS?!” His voice reaches a frantic pitch the medic has never heard from the engineer during their years of working together. It was startling, unsettling.

A soft twinge of doubt and worry settled deep in the back of his mind and gnawing angrily at his gut. Perhaps, it was time for him to stop, at least with this venture. At worst, Misha would be able to adopt, and he’d be happy, right? A very hard sigh escaped his lips, as he turns around and stared at all his work scattered on blueprints, and all sorts of scribbling only he can read. With a angry huff he begins to tear apart every single document on the table, sending their torn remains in a waste basket next to his desk. Deftly, he swipes up a match from the box sitting next to his papers, before striking the match and tossing it into the waste basket.

Flames quickly began to devour months of relentless work and tearful nights, and he watched in mute agony for several long minutes. Over a year and a half, literally all went up in smoke and flames. All within the blink of an eye. This hurt him horrifically. All that work, just to give Misha what he wanted. The something Misha would hate, and would hate him for. It wasn’t worth it. Not that look, the utter disgust, horror and DISAPPOINTMENT etched across his husband’s strong square features, and that head shake. And the one sentence he’d say before turning away. “I thought you were better zhan that, Docktor… I thought wrong.”

“…. Did you tell him about zhis already, or did youh leave me zhe honor of telling mein husband?” Ludwig croaked weakly, struggling to keep his voice level. The tremor in his voice made him want to puke. WEAKLING. NEVER SHOW WEAKNESS! The sound of his heartbeat now hitting a tempo that was very concerning and now deafening him in both his ears was all he could focus on. Not the sounds of the Engineer busily disabling all of his devices while the Spy was intently watching him, like a coiled snake just waiting for the perfect moment before delivering the killing strike. Typically in the back.

Schiesse. He hated this. Once again, he lost everything in the manner of an hour. Life was unbearably cruel, at his best times. How was this any different? Like he hasn’t lost a family before, but twice? It was too much. All the hopes of having a family again, to hold them in his arms, even after both “accidents” all he had left in his hands were the charred ashy remains of his failure. Once, destroyed him, emotionally and mentally. Twice…. He wasn’t sure what it would leave him with. If he would even remain living.

The sound of the final device groaning it’s final breath before it shut down answered his question. All he was greeted with silence once the hammering stopped. The silence was too painfully loud. He HATED silence. It left room for everything to move in. The past, the doubt, the manic, the HATE. The rage. Mentally he was barely hanging on by a thread. He knew, neither god nor devil himself couldn’t bring back those he lost years ago, he asked. Neither could. Despite everything he tried to bring them back, nothing worked. To have the chance to have it back once gain just to watch it fade once more was too much to bear. He couldn’t. HE WOULDN’T.

Very slowly, Ludwig rose from his desk, eerily still and calm. The sudden pressure of Spy’s glare bore holes into his skull. That’s all he needed. One thing the Spy couldn’t conceal was his DEEP SEEDED disgust and hatred of him. It was the one thing medic learned he COULD NOT HIDE. He knew the Spy’s location. Like a cat, he felt his face split into a sick grin, before he lunged without warning. Hands and fingers curled like a cat’s claws, memories of pain, hatred and loss fueled him. How badly he wanted to feel the Spy’s skinny neck in his hands, as he choked the life out of him, and watched. The man clawing and pleading for his worthless existence, before slowly growing weaker and eventually limp. How satisfying that would be. A fitting end for a snake.

The next moment was not one he saw coming. He should have though. Lazy, he chided himself. Complacent and slow is what he became. Or, perhaps he was finally starting to feel is age catch up to him… By the time he got close enough to tear out that skinny bastard’s throat, he saw the gleam of the Spy’s classic butterfly knife poised to strike, but the look of his face wasn’t fear. It was hesitation. The look of a familiar, a companion, the struggle of being able to land a perfect and easy killing blow right to his chest through the jugular or the heart. Perhaps right under the right rib. But no, that was not what hit him.

A swift hit from a heavy duty pipe wrench quickly struck him right in the back of the neck and his lower skull. Granted, he could tell from the angle and hit of the blow, it was not enough to kill. Stun and subdue at best. Mild concussion, most definitely. Splitting migraine? Oh absolutely. He’d surely be stuck in the hospital for about a week. Neck damage to the vertebrae and possibly nerves and muscles? Very possible. And to think the engineer was holding back was certainly scary. The man was short and stout, but he was THICK AND STURDY, not to mention very muscular despite his his outfits made him appear slightly chubby as harmless.

The medical man managed to stumble, gape, stare absently at the Spy, jaw slack and eyes vacant, before slamming sharply into some of his equipment. Medical equipment and papers scattered throughout the room from his body’s impact, before everything he managed to knock off the table came toppling to the floor, along with him. A solid bruise was forming near his neck and spine, and the Engineer sighed, followed by some soft “swearing” from the Engineer. The man had the most pathetic potty mouth possible. The gesture always got a snort out of the Spy. Except not today. Today the Spy’s head was reeling. Lord, he felt his fine wine attempting to make a reappearance. Jostling at the tie around his throat only seemed to make his stomach worse.

Moments passed. Then a minute. The Spy casually glanced at his watch, with a eyebrow raised at the engineer, who was STARING at him, his lips pressed to a VERY thin line. Once again, they just stared. Stared some more, before the Spy very gently cleared his throat and tilted his head to their unconscious medic on the laboratory floor. With a smirk, the Spy glanced expectedly at the Engineer, who scoffed angrily back. The two stared for a 15 seconds more before the Engineer conceded, grumbling under his breath as he stooped to grab the limp man on the floor, whom was much taller and HEAVIER than both of them combined.

“Yer a sack a shit, ya know that? Is it cuz ya didn’t wanna git yer pretty suit dirty?” The engine sneered, carrying the medic bridal style in his arms. The man shook his head with a scoff as he headed up and out of the old very old hidden lab bunker the medic had converted years ago for his own purposes. It served a s adage house for when he needed to flee for his life, on many occasion for grave robbing, cadaver stealing, and organ harvesting in the nearby cities. People. So unbelievably rude and narrow minded!

The Spy grunted nonchalantly as he began wearily scattering oil from the container the Engineer dragged along with them and stashed nearby before this encounter. Spy just about had a FIT when the Engineer set it down near him and the oil SPLATTERED, mere inches from his suit! The two had a very strong worded argument for about 13 minutes before they could actually get back to work. Absolute idiot, he thought bitterly.

Deftly, he made his way in between and along the devices, making painfully sure none got anywhere on his suit. If it did, it was gonna be a VERY unbearable car ride home for the said Engineer. With a soft sigh, he stared at the devices, in a small way this hurt him. Despite them never getting along with one another, he knew how much this meant to the both of his teammates. Having to do this was, horrid. But allowing their former Medic to go through with this disaster of a idea was worse. They had little choice in the matter. For everyone’s sake.

With a slight tap, he kicked the still flaming waste basket onto its side with his right foot, before quickly racing his way out of the laboratory quickly slamming the heavy metal doors shut. It took him a great deal of straining and effort to shut those damn things closed. The pair were very lucky that he managed to close it before the outside forested areas could be claimed by the fires of damnation, too. The sound of loud booms, bangs, pings, and crashes echoed from the lab, the sounds of mechanical wails and groans echoing from the inside.

Spy swore he heard something LIVING screaming from the inside. That wasn’t possible. It was proven Ludwig wasn’t successful in any of his studies. The Spy’s normally still and confident hands were shaking, with the sweat of the his effort before turning cold, along with his insides freezing and the butterflies that bounced around in his stomach now clattering to the bottom in a frozen heap. Spy watched as the metal of the doors eventually melted permanently sealing the lab shut. Not even their Demo Man could bust into it now, nor Heavy. If someTHING was in there, it shall FORVER remain sealed in its tomb.

After just staring at that door like in a trance, the Engineer knew Spy wasn’t reacting to his yelling. Fire and having dangerous chemicals trapped in a underground building/bunker meant fumes were bound to creep out, along with the chances of a BIG boom about to happen were highly probable. Spy probably got a solid whiff of something inside. It took a swift kick on the butt from the Engineer to finally get ANY reaction out of the man.

The kick seemed to rattle Spy enough to make him gasp and bolt to the tree line, with the Engineer carrying their unconscious counterpart with them. Once they got a same enough distance away, the Spy rested his gloved hands on his knees, sucking in raspy greedy breaths. The man was pale as sheet, sweating bullets and his breathing was ragged. He definitely wasn’t ok. After taking more than 7 minutes to level his breathing and stand up again, with a bit more color on his pale features, the Spy shakily but delicately removed one of his very fancy sickly sweet cigars from his case. Not his usual cigarettes, but a cigar. That only meant he was having a bad lapse of PTSD, and that always affected his business. That was something the Spy never allowed, never showed, to anyone.

Those sickly sweet sticks of death were saved only for when his nerves truly hit him hard enough to actually nearly shut him down. Speaking of he tucked his golden crested lighter with trembling hands back into his pocket, taking a greedy drag from that magical relief stick. The smoke blew lazily from his nostrils, earning a solid nasty look from the Engineer. As always, he pretended not to care or notice. At the moment he felt even more sick. The cigar was not helping.

“SERIOUSLY, SMOKIN’ IN A GOD DAMN FOREST? Ah oughta kick yer ass just for Smokey Bear’s sake before he kicks yer ass himself! Selfish FRENCH prick!” He snaps, hitting a near fever pitch, clearly outraged. The Spy rolls his eyes, looking over his shoulder. The Spy made sure his voice was level before speaking, tying to hide the fact he felt like at any given moment he could literally collapse in a heap.

“Get him to zhe hospital. Tell Heavy… we did what we had to… he’ll understand. I will make sure zhe fire doesn’t spread. And, perhaps we can make it up to the morning doctor, non…? Unlike me, you probably do not know of his… history. This man has been through hell and more, to say zhe least. He was… not always like zhis….” Spy very softly, face stern, unreadable. The Spy not the Medic never saw eye to eye, but at least Spy could understand what caused Dr.-EX Dr. Ludwig to snap. This man has been through too much already.

“Spy… come on snap outta it man, ah gotta git him to a hospital, ah’ll meet ya there?” The engineer asks, looking worriedly at the Spy whose just staring at the destroyed warping metal doors. Normally he’s snarky rude and snappy, the silence was extremely unsettling, the lack of his teammate’s snarky judgment. That SCARED the Engineer to his core, when their Spy became THIS unpredictable. That was something he never wished to see again.

“Get him zhe help he needs. I must fulfill my job too, Cowboy… I have a reputation to uphold you know….” The Spy says lazily, with a soft shooing motion of his hand over his shoulder, as he watched the destroyed labs metal sealed doors creaked and sagged ever so slightly, bending to the will of the heat and the lack of their stability. The Engineer sighed, with a nod and carefully carried Ludwig to a clearing with a very overrun strip of road that was long forgotten to many except a know few. It had taken 45 minutes for them to find the damn place, took 50 to lug Ludwig’s ass to the vehicle waiting in the shadows just to the side of the said road. The driver rolled down the window slightly, settled in the driver’s side of a large pitch black matt van, her green eyes settling on the Engineer.

“We got ‘em Miss Paulin… He’s gonna have a wicked migraine later but only whacked em hard enough to knock him out. Still best to have another professional look at ‘em…” The engineer says cautiously as he carefully settles himself into the seat after laying the doctor in the back seat along with him. As gently as he could, the Engineer kept the doctor’s head propped up in his lap, before staring out the window. The Engineer kept a hand pressed gently on the doctor’s neck, keeping close tab on his pulse.

This was definitely something he never wanted to do. Betray a comrade, but he was left no choice. None of them were. If he succeeded, god, how much danger they’d be in. How dangerous that could be, for so many lives. He prayed the were fast enough, and that no one else caught wind of what e was doing in that lab was indeed, scientifically possible. Cloning existed, yes but this was very different from that. Very, very different.

With a heavy sigh, Dell watched the trees slip by once Miss Pauling made a couple phones calls before starting their long trip back. Once he got to the hospital, he definitely was going to excuse himself to a restroom and kindly lose his cookies. This was too much, he truly hoped Ludwig would be fine. Not for his sake, Heavy was gonna murder his own ass anyhow. Even his own teammate? Telling this to him would be EXTREMELY DIFFICULT. Thankfully, he was already made aware thanks to Miss Pauling. It was what they didn’t know that would startle them years to come.

**MEANWHILE…**

Heavy and Medic planned it very carefully. Absolutely no one was to know. At home, Heavy say besides a small crib, with a small little boy nestled in the blue blankets within. Tucked gently in his arms was a little girl just over a year old, who was unusually large for her age. Definitely took after him, that’s for sure. He chuckles softly, watching his daughter in his arms. Despite many of Medic’s protests, he conceded to a surrogate mother, same mother for both the children. One with Misha’s DNA, one with Ludwig’s.

It was all done by Misha, since Ludwig had far too many warrants and death threats against his name. They didn’t have a choice and it ripped Ludwig to pieces. He hated it, they they weren’t PURELY their children. But, they had to make it look believable. To get the Red and Blue bosses off their tails… it had to be enough. For their son’s and daughter’s sakes. It was kind of others to risk their own lives for their sakes to have a family… So many lies, so many schemes and even some blackmail on Spy’s end.

They’d never admit it but they were like a giant dysfunctional family; and they’d do the same for their teammates if it was necessary. And it just got a little bit bigger, which made Misha’s heart soar. It was a big day indeed, this was the day Ludwig would to meet his son for the first time. The first day their son was bright home from the hospital after months of bumpy road and struggling to keep their son healthy and strong. The doctors were very worried how small he was when he was born, and how frail he was. None of it mattered now. He was healthy, and now he was home.

Misha couldn’t wait for to see Ludwig’s reaction of when he’s able to see their son for the first time. Misha smiled softly, with a soft chuckle. Lots of tears, just like when he met their daughter for the first time. So many snuggles kisses and holding her to his chest, telling her soft nothings in German, the pure joy and happiness on his face and his eyes damn near killed Misha. He hadn’t seen his docktor smile like that before. He’s give anything to see it again. This won’t be any different, especially since this was the beginning of their own little family.

7 notes · View notes

inkedtoast · 4 years

Text

TF2 X Male reader || Chapter 1

Warning: Cursing, drinking, mentions of alcohol (and farther along in the series there will be gore)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She will wear you out livin la vida loca

Alright!

Livin la vida loca

She's livin la vida loca!”

My alarm startles me awake with the loud and overly catchy song that somehow lived past the early 2000’s. I roll over and unlock my phone to turn off the alarm, yawning widely. I stretch my arms, kick off my blanket, and then sit up. I stare out of my bedroom window- which is one out of three windows in my whole apartment- and contemplate if I really wanna go to work today. The reminder of my paycheck and slightly overdue bills tells me that yes I should, so I get up and pull on my work clothes. I pat down my hair and put on my favorite hat. Stuffing my bare essentials into my travel backpack, (water bottle, keys, phone and charger, earbuds and wallet, and some of my drawing supplies), the various fandom pins that litter the front of it click against each other. They clatter louder against each other as I zip up the front pocket and hoist the bag over my shoulders. I start walking to the front door, not bothering with breakfast, when I realize I forgot my glasses. Those are kiindaa important…

I snatch them off of my nightstand and whisk out the front door and lock it. I jog to the bus stop, hoping I’m just in time. As I run to the bus stop, a couple dogs in someone’s yard start barking at me. I slow down a bit and wave to the dogs. They start leaping at the wire fence, making it creak and groan, trying to get a closer look- or smell, I guess. I start jogging again and get to the bus stop fairly quickly. I squat down next to the bus stop sign and breathe heavily.

“I’ve been jogging to the bus stop everyday for like a month now, I should be used to this. Augh!”, I pant. I stand up and look down the road both ways. I look to the left and see the bus just turning onto the street. Ah, thank god… I think in relief. I grab my wallet out of my backpack and pull out the correct amount of bus fare. The bus is just a couple blocks away when I hear a shuffle, like someone misstepped on the concrete sidewalk behind me. I turn to look behind me and see that no one is there. Huh…. Okay.

The bus pulls up behind me then and the doors ssttttss open. I turn back to the bus and drop my money into the till. The little machine whirs next to the bus drivers seat as it counts my money and sticks out a ticket for me like a tongue. I grab it and take the farthest seat back as is possible. I’m gonna be here a while…. I pull out my phone and plug in my earbuds. I press play on my favorite playlist, close my eyes and lean my head back. I tap my hands and feet to the songs, and soon I’m doing mini air drums to the songs and doing air riffs. My arms get tired from the waving around and I calm down. About three songs after that, I feel like someone is watching me. I open my eyes and lean my head forward. I pull out an earbud and look at the rest of the bus.

There's an old lady at the front of the bus with her nose in a Kindle and an older looking guy with a very interesting choice of polo shirt (it's bright green and some kinda golfing reference on it). And of course, the bus driver, Marty, who knows me as a regular. All of them are minding their own business, though. The guy with the green shirt notices me looking around and politely waves and smiles. I return the gesture and go back to my music, sinking down into my seat. Man, what is up with me? Guess I'm just feeling a little off today…

In record time (like an hour) the bus approaches my stop. I pull on the… stop cord thing and Marty waves at me.

"Have a good day, son!", He says as he smiles and opens the bus doors. I throw him some finger guns as I step backwards off of the bus.

"I'll do my best." He laughs and closes the doors as he drives away. I stand there for a second and sigh. Ah boy… work time. I turn face and walk a couple blocks to my place of work. The bright orange, yellow and purple sign announces the business for everyone within 200 feet to see. Big Red's Bar and Inn. The place where any self respecting drunk, bar hopper or cheater ends up. Anyone that comes to visit from another city always gets surprised about this bar.

A lot of new people say "Oh wow this little city has a bar? Not just a bunch of liquor stores? Wow" or "Oh.. quaint". Yeah it's not glamorous, but we have what we need. TV's, food, pool and foosball tables, lotto machines…. We get by. Honestly, I got lucky with this job. It's basically strictly family owned and run, but one of the girls there knew me from highschool and talked with her mom who runs the place. The two of them tackle every problem that comes up in the bar really easily. Once, Jessica -the one who got me this job- pulled a shotgun out from the counter after one guy wouldn't leave this lady alone. He left really quickly after that. I've never had to hold that thing and I hope I never will. I don't like trusting myself with that kinda thing.

I walk up to the front doors and pull out the establishment keys and fumble for a second before jamming the key in and unlocking the doors. My job is pretty simple and not that glamorous. I open up, clean the place, wait on tables during working hours, keep up stocks and take out the garbage. Basically I'm an errand boy. But it's labor intensive so I get paid pretty well and I'm not complaining. I notice a few things are out of place. A couple of chairs are on the floor instead of the table, a bunch of bottles are missing from the shelf on the wall behind the bar and there's a broken tumbler glass on the counter.

"I hope that doesn't get taken out of my paycheck,'' I mumble to myself. Maybe Jessica was having a rough night? I shrug and pick the glass up, sweeping the broken bits into the cup from the counter and go dump it into the glass receptacle.

||hours later||

It's just after happy hour and I am exhausted. A group of college kids who just got in decided to celebrate and pretty much trash that bar… during happy hour. At least wait till after 8 you dipshits. Who drinks at 5pm? Fuckin' morons, that's who… I grump to myself. Jessica comes up to me with a tray of Coors beers.

"Hey can you take these over? These guys are basically black holes for beer," She sighs. I frown. She seems really damn tired and down.

"Can I put tequila in them to make 'em pass out, so we can cut them off and get 'em outta here?" I joke. She laughs.

"No, we cannot. We can get in trouble for that. On top of that, why waste good stuff on a bunch of kids?" Jessica pats my shoulder and walks into the back.

"Good point, good point," I nod to myself. I carry the tray of Coors over and place them on coasters. The group of guys cheer when I walk up with their drinks. One of them catches my attention.

"Hey, dude, that girl. She single or what?" The guy who asks looks like some jock right out of a 2008 high school movie. Black spiked hair, traces of acne, wiry but somehow muscular frame. Yeah, no, this guy's a douche. I shrug.

"I dunno. Not my business and not yours either, man." I place the last couple beers down and start walking away. Jock McDouche stands up and grabs my shoulder, making me drop the tray. It clatters to the ground as he stares me dead in the eye.

"What'd you say, punk?". Oh boy…. Here we go… I step away from him and try to defuse the situation. I don't need Red getting on my ass about causing a bar fight.

"Dude, don't try and hit on some girl. Mind your own business and let her do her job. She can kick you out and ban you faster than you can say 'Poughkeepsie'." All of these things are excellent points and a few of the other guys in the group side with me. Despite that, though, Jock McDouche pushes me.

"Why you being so defensive of her? She your girl or something?"

"No, it's just none of your business. If she wanted it to be your business, you'd know." Right after that, Jessica turns up.

"Something wrong gentlemen?" She's got the bar shotgun on her hip, pointing it right at the crotch of the asshole who started this. His face bleaches and bullets of sweat start rolling down his forehead. He covers his junk with his hand, as though that will stop any bullets that get fired.

"N-no ma'am. Just fooling around, weren't we pal?" He looks at me. I raise an eyebrow. I wait a few seconds before answering just to make him squirm.

"Yeah. Definitely." I turn to Jessica and shake my head to let her know it's not worth it anymore. She uncocks the gun and walks away. I bend down to pick up the tray and walk back behind the counter to put it away. I start reorganizing glasses under the counter and stacking them by height and size due to boredom. I sit behind the counter for another ten minutes before Jock McDouche and his posse decide to pay and leave. As Jock pays for his share of the tab, he glares at me. I stare right back at him, letting him know literally I couldn’t give a shit. He scoffs at me and walks out once him and his buddies are done paying.

“Hey, could you go and take out the trash and recycling?”, Jessica says as she comes up behind me. I nod and set down the glass I was rolling in between my hands. I grab the full bags of garbage and recycling out by their drawstrings and tie them. Walking to the back door through the kitchen, I push it open with my back. As I finish struggling to open the huge dumpsters and dropping in the garbage, I hear a few steps behind me. I’ve heard of this being a signal that someone is trying to mug you. Wait isn’t that just in movies?.... I decide that it can happen in real life and grab a broken bottle and turn to chuck it at the person behind me when I feel a sharp pain in my neck. I raise my hand to my neck and feel something that is clearly a mini tranquilizer dart. I look up and see a female silhouette in a dress. I’m not sure but the outline of her dress is…. Purple?

“At least he tried to defend himself… Definitely gives him points..,” I hear her sigh. I feel woozy in seconds and feel my knees collapsing. I try to throw the bottle at her again and it sadly bounces off of her torso and breaks against the ground. I try to stand up, stumbling like I just finished drinking a whole 40 of tequila. The woman, whose face I can’t see, makes a surprised noise.

“You should be out already. Ah, well, that’s something important to note: needs higher dose of tranq,” She scribbles that down on a notebook as I look at her like she just grew three heads. She grabs my head by my hair and jerks it to the left and jabs the dart gun against my neck, shooting a dart deeply into my skin. I instantly feel 200% more tired and promptly start to give in to the heavy, potent drugs.

“Ahh fffuckk...,” are the last words I hear myself say before fall forward and pass out on the lady’s shoes.

#tf2 #tf2 x male reader #male reader #tf2 pauling #tf2 demoman #tf2 sniper #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #tf2 scout #tf2 spy #tf2 pyro #tf2 engineer #tf2 soldier

127 notes · View notes

botslayer · 4 years

Text

Top Ten games of the 2010′s

This trend seems to be doing the rounds at the moment and seeing as I’ve been gaming for about as long as I can remember, It just feels right. So, let’s get into it. But first, worth saying: These aren't really in any specific order, it's just the games I've personally had the most fun with overall, but it's pretty hard to decide what the hard numbers on things you enjoy for different reasons are if that makes any sense. 10. The 2010's weren't exactly the best time for anyone, I think. For me they were a slog of finding myself and learning things I wish I didn't. Amid all those things I wanted some levity. The world needs something and stupid. We got a lot of it ion 2013 but I feel like we could have used it scattered around a bit more. In that spirit, allow me to show you one hell of a pick me up:

Saints Row 4

Saints Row 4 does not give a fuck. It is aggressively demonstrating that the entire time you play. It doesn't care in the slightest what you think or why, It just wants to show you cool, if juvenile, and interesting, if weird shit. It's the finer points of Ratchet and Clank's arsenal, SR3's humor, And superpowers that genuinely put Prototype and Infamous in a blender and tell you to go ape shit with them. The soundtrack isn't top shelf, it's the roof of the building the shelf is in. Saints Row Two had a better story overall but SR Four's was just plain fun and a solid enough story to still be invested.

The DLC was just as irreverent and madcap, Featuring everything from an evil Santa Clause to evil Gimps on Game of thrones chairs made of dildos Or Tropey-ass costumes and weapon reskins that I'd be genuinely surprised the game dev didn't get sued over. It has earned its place in my top 10 and I will die by that decision.

2016 saw the advent of a new genre. They blended TF2 and MOBAs, and we got hero shooters in their first AAA forms, Overwatch and Battleborn. But neither of these games is on this list, much as I liked them. Partly because the whole time, I kept thinking of one simple question: "Why do I keep thinking of...?"

Anarchy Reigns

Anarchy Reigns is my favorite Platinum game. Full Stop. The Story mode is interesting and has genuinely good character moments, the characters themselves are completely mental, ranging from a mercenary with a bionic cat leg that secretly has a gun built into it to a giant cyborg bull-man with a jet-powered hammer. The soundtrack is mostly angry hip-hop, making every song a banger and fittingly speedy for things like random bombing runs from jet fighters that come from absolutely nowhere.

There are giant monsters, cars with mounted flame throwers, giant robots, and the online is still pretty sweet because even when abandoned, loading it up with bots still rules. I regularly have more fun with this than I ever did with Overwatch, and I don't care how insane that sounds.

Some games want to make you feel something and fail. Some games make you feel some things accidentally, for example, a desperate need to laugh. This game made me feel like a human blender. Like a Chthonic god of mangled flesh and raw destructive power. Nyarlathotep ain't got nothing on me. I speak, of course, of...

[Prototype] 2

There's no end to the absolute destruction you feel like you're causing in this game. It feels more fluid than the first, the main character is a pinch more relatable, and all the body horror, superpowers, zombie hordes, and big old monsters make for some of the most memorable and fun moments and fights in gaming. The DLC is also pretty solid, adding new fun side challenges, and new powers and weapons that elevate you from "Flesh god" to "Screw physics, I made them" Omnipotent. Best god/monster simulation of all time.

Sometimes some games are at an honest tie in your mind. Be it that you like them for essentially the same reasons, or for completely different reasons, but the overall total joy or entertainment they bring is roughly equivalent. Here, we have a case of the former:

Furi/Cuphead

Both games have a tight focus on giving players a unique, boss-centric challenge, both have interesting, somewhat minimal narratives, and both are absolute eye candy.

Furi has a more "Samurai Jack" Quality to me. A complete badass on a relatively simple quest with a somewhat minimalistic art style learning some things as he goes.

Cuphead on the other hand, nails that rubber hose animation style, and the fun levity of such animations while still making the player's ability to interact with the world damn impactful and fun.

They share a spot in my soul, games I love everything about but will never be able to finish. Hats off to both dev teams.

Now here we have another tie. Mostly because the games are so close together, they need to be evaluated more or less as one product IMO, not enough changed for me to consider them separate games, fortunately, that is the furthest thing from an insult it can be in this situation. I present to you, my next pick(s).

Costume Quest 1/2

Now, This might seem pretty random considering my other picks, but honestly, I love Halloween, I love creative madness, I love subversion, I love good characters, and I love cool action, these games have all these things by the bucketload.

The first game is a wild ride through Halloween in multiple very lively locations and the second, slightly confusing as it is, is pretty awesome for the things it introduces, including time travel. Other elements, like the battle stamps, the truly epic forms of everything in the fights, The ability to customize your costumes, etc. they blur together in a pretty big way, but again, there's not a thing wrong with that when both games rock like crystal candy.

Now, if you hadn't noticed, all of the games on this list have had some hard action at their core, and while I don't HATE calmer games, a lot of the time, so many are kinda dull to me in that with the exception of easter eggs of some sort, most farming sims, for example, just have you doing normal farm stuff with very few twists, may as well start a real farm in that case. My most chill entry is a game that tosses that to one side, asks you to grab a suck cannon, and start harvesting gelatinous monster poop.

Slime Rancher

While you don't spend a lot of time actually interacting with other characters, they just talk at you, the story of the game is pretty effective, the player character of Beatrix has left Earth for a simpler life of Slime Ranching, which entails the raising of alien crops, delightfully derpy and colorful chickens, and going all around in an attempt to farm new breeds of slime for their genetic material to sell off or trade-in for the creation of gadgets while being surrounded by a cast of interesting characters. It's all very wholesome family fun.

The game looks great, has great ideas, and is genuinely the best farming game I have ever played. @ me all you want.

The 80's are almost fetishized nowadays. Given all the property reboots, games that go for the vibe and aesthetic of the time, etc. It almost seems as though the eighties vibe train ain't gonna stop rolling any time soon. But we owe it to ourselves to remember the first big swipe of madcap neon-colored actiony B-movie bullshit and how mind-meltingly epic it was. Ladies, Gents, and whatever else, I present:

Far Cry 3: Blood Dragon

Blood Dragon's story is relatively simple, you play Sargent Rex "Power" Colt (A name said in full so many times I thought his last name was "Powercolt" for the longest time), a former "Omega force" cyborg. Rex and his friend "Spider" were sent into a secret island base to investigate the supposed defection and treachery of their old commander, Ike Sloan. It turns out he has gone rogue and taken an army of "Mark 5" Omegaforce cyber-soldiers with him. What follows is a long story of betrayal, science fiction of the highest nonsensical level, comedy, and brilliantly cathartic action.

The collectibles range from data on animals, to research notes from a scientist, to literal VHS cassette tapes that have full descriptions of movies that I would legitimately watch if I could. "You may now kill the brides" is not a real film and I am angry for every day that that is true. Anyway, play Far Cry 3: Blood Dragon, I dunno if it's on PS4 but it's one game I'd buy a new/old console for.

A lot of superhero games NEED to railroad you. Your goals MUST be to save the lives of the people and help the weak and all that. But one dev asked the simple question: "What if it didn't?" "What if the player chose how to use their power? What if the player could be as evil or as good as they damn well pleased?" One game gave you the powers of thunder and lightning and asked what you'd do with it. It's sequel asked you the same, but against more... interesting forces.

InFamous 2

InFamous 2 is a game about making choices, just like the first one, also just like the first one, it can have an effect on gameplay. That effect went from "What does this particular power do in this allignment?" To "Which new set of NEW powers would you like?" The forces of the last game went from “Three flavors of gun-toting whackos” To “Possibly an allegory for the Klan, Swamp monsters, and Ice-powered super soldiers.”

This was, and still is, the best game in the whole series, The powers felt distinct from anything else and still do, the story is solid as a rock, and the enemy types were still varied enough to be interesting, I miss the Reapers from the first game, but that's about it. Everything else was a massive step up. If you have something that can run it, play it.

Action is something I think we can all appreciate on some level. We can understand when it does or does not work, we can understand when we do or do not like how it feels when we are the ones partaking in it. EX: Any schlep can tell you when the weapons in your game lack impact, or when your character moves too slow for the game to be fun. The following game is something I can't say anything of the sort about. And it's kind of like Wolfenstein, when you have enemies this bad, who the hell cares how many you kill?

Doom 2016

Y'all are lying if you say you didn't expect this one. It's DOOM 2016. This game is made of hate and fuck. AND I LOVE IT. You move so fast, you may as well be half cheetah and half sports car. You slaughter the dregs of hell by the dozens and even the biggest, baddest things this game throws at you can be beaten with the starting pistol if you have the stones for it. It looks amazing graphically, the demons all look appropriately threatening, and even the Multiplayer is a great deal of fun in my book.

Something worth noting: The story presented by default is pretty barebones, but that's where supplementary material fills in the gaps, the difference between supplementary material in most games and supplementary material here is the material is till IN THE GAME. You're free to ignore most of the plot as it happens around you, and even interesting tidbits of the lore like how certain demons function. Not only are these things missable collectibles, prompting continued play to find them, they are also pretty interesting reads. So yeah, just about everything you could want in a sequel/remake, builds the on lore and gameplay very organically.

And here we are, the last game I'd put in this category. An entire decade, and here, we end on the last game that left such an impact I'd put it in my top ten. But first, let's talk about expectations and delivery: When you say a game is coming out, there are certain expectations you have for gameplay, EX: I say "Ratchet and Clank" and you expect a TPS with platforming elements and crazy guns. I say "Gears of War" and people expect something to do with lumbering about in big armor, dismembering things with a chainsaw gun and otherwise shooting them to paste. We might also expect changes to things, better graphics, innovations in grenade variety, something as that franchise goes on.

After the last game in this series was released, there were tons of people who felt let down and disappointed by it. Then they released the still somewhat disappointing special edition of it. They were both still fun, but neither really felt like the full next step in the series. After a failed reboot, they returned to the original story and the lot of us rejoiced. And when it finally came out? It was a step up in most, if not, all regards, to its predecessors. You know what this last one is. Please, give a warm round of applause to:

Devil May Cry 5

A game that was not only a return to form, but a major escalation in gameplay for one character, and a new style of gameplay all together by way of yet another new character. It didn’t exactly hurt that the story kicked ten kinds of ass and that the game looked spectacular in both the design of everything and the actual graphical fidelity.DMC 5 is, like DOOM, Like InFamous 2, Like [PROTOTYPE] 2, everything you want in a good sequel. It built very well on already solid foundations and it was generally just a fun, slightly goofy, massively stylish, and ultra badass ride. I recommend this, and all these games, to anyone.Good night everyone, have a great 2020. And the rest of the decade, for that matter.

16 notes · View notes

phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess · 6 years

Text

Commission for @frostedturquoise

Fandom: TF2 Pairing: Soldier/Sniper

Request: Fantasy AU

Concept: Ranger!Sniper/Sorcerer’s Apprentice!Soldier

Title: It’s Free Real Estate

With what can only be called an horrendous squeal, the giant creature lunged towards the human that assailed it; humongous gore-spattered tusks gleaming in the sunlight as it bore down with lethal intent. Enraged by the arrows dotting its flesh, the house-sized Titan Boar paid no heed to obstacles, smashing through tree trunks without seeming to notice and gaining ground with every passing second.

Yet still the lanky man stood his ground, perhaps foolishly attempting bravery against such a vicious creature, or more likely he was rooted to the spot in fear. Though, a third option yet remained, which became apparent as the Titan Boar suddenly crashed through the forest floor and skewered itself upon the sharpened stakes littering the bottom. It had all been part of the plan.

With swift efficiency, the Ranger strode towards the pit, took aim with his bow and sunk a hefty arrow straight through the rage-filled eye closest him, placing the creature out of its misery. Not to mention, out of everyone else’s too, given how its rampage had knocked several villages and citizens flat over the past week and a half.

Assured that the animal was indeed deceased, the Ranger jumped down to land atop its carcass, ignoring the loud squishing sound as his impact forced the body further down onto the impaling spikes. Upon closer inspection it was immediately apparent that this poor bloody thing had been a normal wild pig before all this mess, clearly someone had been experimenting their magical bullshit on animals. At least, judging by the runes he could see carved into the sides of it’s flanks by something arcane and definitely illegal.

He gave the carcass a pat, sorry to have had to do his duty to something that hadn’t really deserved it. “I’ll get the bastard who did this to you, put an arrow in his throat just for you, hey mate?” he assured, turning to begin scaling the side of the pit.

As he hauled his frame over the edge, rising to stand beside it, he pulled out a match and held his hat over his heart in a gesture of respect. “Hope you’re somewhere better than this mess, mate.” he says solemnly, before striking a small flame and tossing it atop the body.

Looks like he had a shittonne of paperwork to do, and someone to go turn into a magical shishkabob.

~)0(~

Early that morning a messenger scroll had been delivered via the portal mail service for Merasmus, some urgent council matter that required several of the more experienced sorcerers out there to attend immediately. When questioned, his mentor had merely waved him off and mumbled something about illicit arcane animal experimentation that had to be dealt with.

He left with a suitcase, the bombinomicon, and strict warnings not to summon any demons for a party; leaving his apprentice, one Jane ‘Soldier’ Doe, all alone in the large, dank castle. What could possibly go wrong? Given Soldier’s penchant for absolute, generally accidental, chaos… pretty much anything and everything.

By the time dinner rolled around, Soldier had grown bored of training, reading, playing hide and seek with the ghosts, casting light spells in various colours and even flying on his broomstick. The place just felt emptier without someone else existing in it on a physical plane of existence; many of the ghosts had intriguing and varied personalities, and tried their best to cheer him up, but it wasn’t quite the same.

And that’s when he heard the scream.

Loud, surprisingly close-by, and hoarse. The short cry was accompanied by a series of equally audible profanities, threats and questions about their assailant’s parentage; but most importantly, from Jane’s perspective, it sounded like a call to adventure.

Soldier readjusted his helmet, grabbed the broomstick and ran for the front door with an eager spring to his step. Only to fling it wide open just in time to collide head-on with a rather battered looking man standing before it, hand raised to knock and attire rumpled almost beyond repair.

“Crikey!” came the startled shout of the lanky Ranger, as a hulking wall of magical muscle slammed into him headon. The pair tumbled haphazardly down the front stairs in a tangle of limbs, broomsticks and profanities; thudding to the ground in a halo of dust, which arose to choke what little air the winded men could inhale.

Quick as a whip, the lanky bloke shoves at Soldier, mouthing moving with words he didn’t quite have a deep enough breath to impart just yet; eyes wide behind his goggles, conveying the urgency that he couldn’t say. Somewhere along the treeline of the surrounding forest sounded an inhuman roar, the volume so ear-shattering it shook the ground and startled nesting ravens from the trees. A great cacophony of crashes echoed in the deafening silence that followed, as many a giant treetrunk shrieked in protest before toppling over under the onslaught of some gargantuan creature…

“In-...de…” the man wheezed out, coughed and tried again. “Inside, mate!” he said more coherently this time, smacking a hand on Soldier’s chest to illustrate his urgency, and scrambling upright. Swiftly following suit, Soldier shoved himself to his feet, and pushed up the brim of his helmet to scan the treeline for any sign of whatever made that noise.

The ground trembled a warning as their foe slowly came into view, fuzzy ears only just surpassing the treetops before the rest of the creature emerged, eyes red and enraged by what could only be arcane magic. Or potentially, just a megabunny having a really, really bad day. But considering the combined general luck of both men present, it was more likely the former, than the latter.

Not to mention the runes carved into the animal. Dead giveaway. Some black magic bullshit was going on here.

Soldier sneezed, and then again as the towering megabunny stomped ever closer to the castle, not yet having seen them in particular, but normally adorable nose currently twitching, desperately chasing the scent of-... oh. Blinking, and gaining a good concept of the situation in a split-second, Jane grabs the other man around the torso and bodily hurls them both through the open doorway. Broomstick zooming in behind, slamming the door shut and flicking its whiskers at the lock to engage the cloaking charms.

He gave it a pat, fondly, and turned to the newcomer. Given the clothing, he was one of the forest-loving types… but the lack of pointy ears said he wasn’t an elf, which was good, because Merasmus’s lessons hadn’t yet covered Elf First Aid. Jane was still studying healing potives for Centaurs… you wouldn’t believe how many crazy curses, hexes and diseases those half-horse nudist hippies could attract, or just how annoyingly difficult they were to diagnose and treat.

His nose twitched again, and he absently rubbed it on a sleeve, and nearly jumped out of his skin when the other man spoke. He might have forgotten the other existed for just a moment there, in light of his frustratingly flaring allergies.

“Thanks mate… that thing literally caught me with my pants down… nothing like taking on a ten-foot murderous megarabbit with your dacks ‘round your ankles.” Said the other, a wry grin forming over a slowly swelling face; bruises blooming on exposed skin, and blood trickling morbidly down his long features. “Name’s Mundy, m’one of the Rangers stationed down near that Forbidden Forest place, you know the one travellers and dumb teenagers keep going into and not returning from? All sorts of crazy shit in there, but it’s not all that hard to deal with, just your standard arachnid infestations or the odd rabid werewolf and the like…”

For the first time in his life, Soldier wasn’t able to get a word in edgewise, so he let the Ranger ramble on as he directed him to a chair. The slight slur to the speech, the unfocused gaze, and what was clearly a supernatural asskicking… it all seemed to ring a bell in the Apprentice’s memory; sure healing wasn’t a huge component of sorcery unless you wanted to specialise, but Merasmus liked to cover all the basics. Humans, at least, tended not all that difficult to treat… unless they were the stubborn type, like Mundy was shaping up to be.

“...and that’s why I got the call to come up here and see which snotnosed little blighter is going ‘round enchanting your everyday woodland beasts into… things like the big bunny. And the boar, and maybe that one really cranky weasel that stole my undies while I was taking a dip last night… looked bigger than it should have been.” The Ranger finished his spiel, shrugged off Soldier, and rose to stagger somewhat ungracefully towards the door. “Anyway, thanks for the hospitality and all, but I gotta go deal with that before it finds out I’m holed up in here… or gets bored and goes wandering for… some other… kinda fun…”

Soldier barely has a chance to lurch forwards and catch him, as the Ranger seems to drop like a stone mid-stride and sentence. Dead to the world and oblivious to impending danger as Jane sweeps the lanky monster-wrangler into his arms, and whisks him away to somewhere a bit safer. Pausing only to throw a waring glance over his shoulder at broomstick, as he whispers sternly, “Don’t tell Merasmus…”

~)0(~

“...and I’m telling you, mate, it’s fine!” sighs the exasperated Ranger Mundy, for what had to be the sixth time in the past hour. It wasn’t that he didn’t mind the concern behind the questioning, but it was a tad hard to stealthily shift through the shadows when a loud, far-too-enthusiastic sorcerer’s apprentice kept asking you if you were feeling alright.

He clenches his fists, takes a deep breath, and exhales to a count of ten. Can’t do any good getting snippy with the bloke who saved his arse the other day, especially when Jane only wanted to make sure he was doing alright. Sure, maybe Mundy was fudging the truth around the edges a tad, but he had a bloody job to do; and every second he laid about being pampered like some fainting dandy of the royal court, people’s lives and livelihoods were at risk.

Bit disorienting, really, waking up when you couldn’t recall going to sleep. He’d awoken with a shock, hand automatically reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there, and feeling more than a tad off-kilter at finding himself tucked carefully into a bed that most definitely wasn’t his own. Various bits ached, stung and throbbed in a discordant cacophony, some abating or growing sharper as he moved; Mundy had wriggled a bit, just to be sure this wasn’t simply the fall-out from a rather vigorous night before.

He eventually concluded that no, this was definitely the result of being trounced by something or other; getting smacked about tended to leave an impression on the mind and body alike. Still, the night before was a hazy mess… which was unusual. Mundy usually had a mind like a steel trap, but for some reason he just couldn’t picture who, or more likely what, had punched his ticket hard enough to leave him… covered in bandages?

Too neat for his usual patchjobs, must have been someone else. At least they’d left him his undergarments, and therefore his dignity… not that he must have much of that left, if he was in such rough shape. The answer of who, and why, came crashing through the door with a vibrantly enthusiastic ‘Good Morning!’ and a tray of various breakfast-like items.

Jane, or Soldier as he preferred to be called, had taken his sudden intrusion last night in stride. Simply just locking the door to the cursed creature outside, and dragged Mundy’s deadweight off to the apprentice’s own room to deal with the mess he’d made of himself. Soldier told him all this proudly, excitedly; it was almost endearing, even for someone who tended to prefer silence and solitude over socialisation. Jane just seemed to exude a chaotic sensation of life at its most vibrant; which was why Mundy had found himself attentive to the tale of how Soldier had treated him last night, whilst nibbling on any unburnt foodish offerings provided.

Turns out, the helmet-clad bloke had stripped off the ragged remains of his travelling cloak, tunic, breeches, boots and hat; sending them off with what Soldier described as animated household items for washing and repair. Mundy didn’t really know how to feel about that, but nodded to encourage the other bloke to keep talking. Well, the sorcerer’s apprentice realised how damaged the Ranger actually was, he set about just about marinating Mundy in as many salves, potives, poltices and spell-infused bandages one could possibly get their hands on at short notice.

Seemed to work a treat, because most of the swelling and inflammation was down; not to mention he was pretty sure the myriad of talon and tooth marks had faded to little more than scars at this point. Mundy made sure to thank the guy, and they idled in conversation until his clothes were returned; mended and free from blood and grime.

There had been an argument.

Soldier was adamant that Mundy should stay, wait for some guy called Merasmus to come back, before they went about knocking giant rabbit heads in; spend a bit more time taking a nap, at least until Mundy could raise his arms without wincing. Which was all well and good, but every minute he waited, that damn creature and the idiot who made it could be wreaking havoc on innocent people. He had to get out there…

Which was how they’d ended up with a compromise. By which it could be said that Soldier managed to pester Mundy into a verbal corner, and the Ranger had agreed to take Jane with him just to expediate the process. He wasn’t completely adverse to having a muscle-clad magic-wielder as his back-up, you almost couldn’t pay for better unless you went with premium Paladin Escort Package; and that lot were far too self-important to shadow a Ranger, no matter how much coin he flashed.

If Jane could just stop asking if he was doing alright, if he needed to rest, if maybe he’d like a quick refresher of some pain-removal potive or healing spell… this would be a lot less frustrating. Mundy began to suspect the other man was simply casting the spells he offered anyway, because discomfort always seemed to decrease after the Ranger declined… though he couldn’t be sure. Perhaps it was simply the company that soothed him.

Soldier was a strange bloke, but he had a good heart; lot of funny, if a bit crude, stories about bizarre situations he’d gotten himself into and then out of. Nice eyes, build like one of those gods of war that the armies were always praying to, and an enthusiastic, if sometimes overbearing, personality. Must be a right hit with the ladies, or gents, or whatever he fancied.

He had a funny feeling that he knew why Soldier’s company seemed so enthralling, but Mundy sure as hellfire wasn’t going to admit it even to himself. He was too bloody old for all that nonsense anyway; well, for those in his profession anyway, you didn’t last very long out in the wilds but at least the pay was good. And the only boring aspect was the paperwork when you were cashing in a bounty or sending a warning on to some committee or other about a rogue so-and-so of their order.

Mundy jerked as a large, warm hand pressed against his spine; fingers twitching as he fought the instinctual urge to go for a weapon, mentally telling himself it was just his companion. Soldier must have noticed, because the pressure eased off; but the tingling sensation remained a few seconds more… confirming the Ranger’s suspicions about what the other was up to. He chose to ignore it for now, simply continuing to slide through the dappled shadows of the trees with the practiced ease of one who had spent their life doing exactly this. Followed, not quite so silently, by the solid form of Soldier, who did his very best to be quiet; but ultimately left Mundy wishing the man had brought broomstick, which would have alleviated the sound of his footfalls crunching through the leaf matter strewn about.

“My campsite’s around here somewhere,” he hisses, keeping his voice low as they started to notice gargantuan bunny footprints filling the area, tracks criss-crossing over one another. Clearly, it was still hanging around where it could find the strongest concentration of the Ranger’s scent, seeking revenge for the wounds he had inflicted the night previous. It was a wily little bugger, they’d have to be careful; you should never underestimate something just ‘cause it has a cute fluffy tail… a bad run-in with satyrs’d tech just about anyone that.

His eyes scan the forest, noting small nicks and sigils he’d left on the trees leading to his hideout, gesturing for Jane to follow along behind as quietly as he could. The unlikely duo crept through low-set brush and towering treetrunks, winding their way towards a well-hidden rope ladder hiding in the shadows. Checking that nothing stirred in the area, he began to climb; and after a moment, felt the slight jerk of Soldier also ascending behind him.

Higher and higher they rose, clambering up amidst the uppermost branches, where an impressive platform awaited. Boards expertly nestled between, and secured to the thickest branches in an interweaving pattern; the kind of temporary shelter one built when needing an extended stay somewhere that lowering one’s guard on the ground could be fatal. Small bags were littered here and there, as were weapons and a sleeping roll; Mundy took comfort in realising that nothing had been discovered or disturbed in his absence.

He dragged the sleeping roll toward the treetrunk, and then sank upon it, pressing his spine against the reassuring solidity of the living wood. Mundy always felt more at ease when he was like this, with nature thrumming all around him and no immediate threat to deal with.

Boards creaked as Jane carefully tiptoed across to join him, seeming uncertain at such a height; or perhaps the bloke was afraid that something built to facilitate someone Mundy’s size, would never bear his weight. Still, nice of the guy to try. Soldier made it all the way over and sat beside the Ranger, attempting to maintain his upbeat attitude despite worrying glances at the platform.

“It’ll hold.” Mundy reassured, reaching into a bag and yanking out some sort of fruit. HE began to peel strips off it, biting tentatively to test if it wasn’t overripe yet, and then offering some to his… well, Jane was sort of a guest now, wasn’t he? Soldier took it, and nibbled appreciatively, as they settled in.

And now, it was a waiting game.

~)0(~

Soldier sneezed for the second time, nudging Mundy out of his doze with a jolt of adrenaline.

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

Reacting instinctively, the Ranger grabbed his bow and arrows as a twinge of memory flared from the night before; carefully stretching himself out so as to peer over the platform’s edge and into the lightening world. No birds chirped greetings to the dawn sun, and nothing scurried below despite the ever-present tell-tale leaf matter. Clearly a sign that something ominous, predatory and dangerous lurked nearby; keeping creatures silent, wary, and afraid to leave their dens for fear of being caught.

Warmth flushed along his left side as Soldier laid down beside him, warding off some of the early morning chill as they waited; neither speaking, straining to hear the slightest sound. Though instead, it came first as a sensation… strong vibrations that shook the leaves on their branches; growing in magnitude with every second that passed until it felt as if each footstep was a thunderclap intent on shaking loose their bodies, cell by cell.

Mundy picked out the tips of enormous fluffy ears by the time they could hear the creature’s every movement, path clearly veering towards their hidden location. Tracking their scent, though not quite well enough to pinpoint them; although that was somewhat due to a certain countermeasure the Ranger used. See, when you gotta go, in a tree, there’s an obvious solution… if you want every slavvering supernatural creature with a hankering for human flesh clawing their way up to your tree. An ancient ranger trick they tended to teach in basic training was to store up your urine and carefully splash it haphazardly throughout the forest if you really needed to give something the slip.

A tad gross? Perhaps. Kept Mundy alive more times than he could count. Had creatures circling back on themselves all over the place, in the past. Even now it had the megabunny so turned around it couldn’t even work out which direction to sniff right.

Just the way he liked ‘em.

Sliding an arrow of blessing, or whatever fancy title those monks’d given it after dunking it in some sort of godwater, from his quiver and aligning it upon his bow, Mundy tracked the creature’s every twitch. Mentally noting the trajectory and factors that might need to be compensated for, such as windspeed and the target’s current travelling velocity…

Shot through the eye’d do it, but not from this angle. Wouldn’t kill it outright, and he wasn’t one to leave something suffering if he could help it… no, he needed… a distraction. The Ranger’s head snapped towards the enthralled Soldier, who started to find himself being stared at, opening his mouth to question what was wrong… when he sneezed violently instead, responding to the increasing levels of dark, arcane magic in the air.

Mundy saw the megarabbit’s head snap up and stare right at them, meeting him eye to eye. “Yeah,” he mumbled, drawing back the bowstring, “That’ll do.”

He loosed the enchanted missile.

~)0(~

The hardest part of the whole operation seemed to be guiding Soldier down the ladder, as he wouldn’t look down. It was bizarre, because he’d seen the bloke whizzing about on his broomstick before, far higher than this and hadn’t assumed Jane would have a hang up about heights. Still, they made good time back through the forest, or so it seemed; perhaps the mood was just a tad lighter now that the creature was finally deceased.

“...find the wanker behind all this and deal with him. Suppose that’s really a wizarding council’s jurisdiction or something, I’m just the guy they send in to take out the shambling horrors they unleash on the world.” Mundy said, feeling oddly at ease as they traipsed through the trees, as close as a duo could be given the dense foliage. He tried to tell himself it was a job well done, but… nah, who could pretend any longer? It was Jane.

Not that he was head over heels or anything, no, just… felt like maybe there could be something there, if there was time to get to know one another better. His internal monologue was cut short by the man himself, who touched his shoulder to gain the Ranger’s attention.

“Mundy?” there was a query in the tone.

“Yes mate?” he replied, wondering what kind of flower or butterfly or poisonous demondog the guy’d seen this time.

“Would you say the person behind the big bunny would be using dark magic? Maybe about your height, red hair, green eyes, little nose and a big black cloak?” Jane asks, and it almost causes Mundy to miss a step. He raises an eyebrow, turning to look at Soldier.

“Dunno exactly, they didn’t give a description… what makes you ask?”

Jane pointed. “Because he is standing over there right now, enchanting a raccoon to large proportions…”

“He-... wait, what?” Mundy started, swiftly pivoting on his heel to follow Soldier’s gaze, and discovered the exact scene Jane had detailed. Bugger, his bow caught on his pack as he tried to yank it off in a hurry, and the ruckus they’d caused had caught the sneaky spellcaster’s attention. Their peaky face flashed briefly towards the pair, before they whirled about and attempted to flee; dark cloak flapping about them as they slipped into the shadows.

Mundy swore, loudly, but Soldier was already raising a hand and yelling something. A flare of bright light seemed to rush across the distance between them, twisting and twining about the limbs of the fleeing darkmancer; ensnaring him fast about the legs so he couldn’t escape.

With a small huff of triumph, the Ranger’s freed bow notches the very same blessed arrow he had retrieved from the megabunny’s corpse, and took aim.

“N-no, please, it was just a little fun! They’re only animals! Stupid, unthinking animals!” jibbered the ranga, not so high and mighty now he’d been caught and cornered. “They don’t even feel pain! And what’s a f-few dead nobodies when y-you’re advancing magical kn-knowledge?!”

The Ranger nudged the darkmancer with his boot, flipping the rogue sorcerer flat upon his back; cocking his head as he took careful aim, pulling the bowstring taut. “Yeah nah, mate… me’n’my mate here, real animal lovers. And you? Turns out your the bastard hurting them. If you believe in any gods, might wanna say a few words to ‘em now.” he growled, tone low and menacing. The arrow lurched forwards and pinned the darkmancer’s skull to the ground, as Mundy grinned. “Cause you might be meeting ‘em soon.”

There was a faint flush on Jane’s cheeks as he turned away from the corpse to face the sorcerer’s apprentice; and for a moment he thought it was horror, at what the Ranger had done. Though the sudden crash of lips against his own was, perhaps, the greater surprise still… or so Mundy thought, right up until something wriggled between them.

Pulling away, suddenly aware of just how much he’d love to do that again, the Ranger blinked down to see a large infant racoon in Soldier’s arms. Delightedly shredding the other man’s jacket, while he cooed down at it.

“Er, before I ask about the racoon, what was the uh… you know, about?” Mundy had to ask, he was a tad confused about how things had even gotten to that point, to be honest.

“Commander of my heart’s battalion, when I heard your voice I was unable to remain at attention… and will need to be disciplined back into line later after this mission is completed.” Jane grinned, unabashedly, blue eyes sparkling where they met Mundy’s, from under his helmet. “And as for Lieutenant Bites, I have made the tactical decision to add him to my platoon… he needs guidance to become a good soldier.”

Mundy quirks an eyebrow, lets the silence linger a moment, then shrugs.

“Works for me, mate. Let’s get back to that castle of yours, see about this… discipline problem you got going. Reckon I can find a good solution to it…”

Jane snaps a smart salute, not even pretending to hide his enthusiasm. “Yes sir!”

~)0(~

By the time Merasmus arrived home, he was utterly in shock at how chaotically bizarre the castle had become in his absence.

To begin with, there was the lanky Ranger who cheerfully greeted the sorcerer as he made his way inside; the man seemingly wearing a towel, a hat and little else besides as he took breakfast with a honey-and-skyclad Soldier. Not even to mention what appeared to be a rather large baby racoon seated within a hastily constructed highchair; occasionally being spoon-fed by the broomstick; upon which the spoon had been tied.

There was an exceptionally large, fluffy rug now sumptuously draped across the floor that everyone present was pointedly Not Looking At; and what seemed to be a suspiciously familiar corpse lashed to a spare chair in the corner. Squinting at it revealed it was, indeed, the exact rogue darkmancer he’d been summoned all the way to the high council’s chambers to help track down…

Tired from his travels, and deciding he would rather deal with all of this mess after a nice miniature coma, Merasmus merely wished them good morning and levitated up the stairs to bed. Leaving the two men, and their bizarre furry son, to finish their meal in peace.

----------

The End

#frostedturquoise #tf2 #fanfic commission #soldier/sniper #fantasy au

10 notes · View notes