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bcdrawsandwrites · 27 days

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[ID: A Team Fortress 2 fic banner showing Pyro standing in front of a fireplace with its back to it, tossing a book backward into the fire. Pyro is in shades of gray, the book is in yellow-white, and only the fire is colored orange, mimicking the style of the Cooking the Books achievement icon. The title is on the left, in yellow-white text on a darker background reading, "CHAPTER THREE: COOKING THE BOOKS" /end ID]

Flickering

Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Rating: K+ Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship Characters: Spy, Pyro, Scout (plus the rest of the mercs, but the others have minor roles in this chapter) Warnings: General references to trauma, TF2-typical violence Fic Description: After the events of the comics, the mercs try to go back to how things were, but it’s never that easy.

Spy can see his teammates going through their own struggles… but something seems to be very, very wrong with Pyro in particular.

And since no one else seems to be doing anything about this, Spy makes it his mission to get to the bottom of what is troubling Pyro. For no particular reason. Beta Readers: @mechmolar, @gonturan0, @junuve

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Chapter 3: Cooking the Books Summary: In which Pyro takes notice of Spy.

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The bustling atmosphere of the pre-match preparation was tinged with tension, at least for Spy. Sniper kept to himself; Soldier went on a rallying, confusing speech that no one other than Demo listened to; Heavy checked over his guns; Medic prepared his ubercharge; Scout... Engineer talked quietly to Pyro about setting up his buildings.

And Pyro stared directly at Spy.

Spy pretended to check through his disguises, but watched Pyro out of the corner of his eye. The Pyro never looked away, though it did give a tiny nod when the Engineer asked if it heard everything.

"Good to hear," Engineer said, and patted Pyro on the back with his good hand.

That made Pyro finally tear its gaze away from Spy to whirl on the Engineer. But the Administrator’s voice had already called for the match to start, and Engineer was hauling his toolbox out into the fray. When Pyro looked back, however, it gave a start; Spy had taken the opportunity to cloak so he could escape that creature's gaze.

Spy barely suppressed a shudder as he put as much distance between himself and the Pyro as possible. Once he was sure he was far enough away, he de-cloaked and let himself breathe.

Well. This was, indeed, going to make things difficult. If the Engineer hadn't startled Pyro, he wasn't sure what it might have done. But even though he'd gotten away, he couldn't imagine this would be the end of it.

Still, for the time being, he focused on the match. Pyro would likely be spending most of its time in their intelligence room, so he wouldn't get the chance to see it. Probably for the best, this time.

The match went on as it typically did, and Spy managed to sneak in to nab the BLU team's intelligence. As he was bringing the briefcase back, the Administrator's voice cried out that their intelligence had been taken as well.

Interesting—the Pyro had slipped up, it seemed.

Sure enough, Spy entered the intelligence room just in time to see the Engineer's precious gadgets be destroyed by enemy sappers. Sighing, he dropped off the stolen intelligence before charging back out to chase down the thief.

Spy followed the path the enemy had likely taken—through the sewers. Not something he enjoyed doing, but work was work, and the respawn would clean his outfit, provided he actually died. As he was mulling this over, he nearly ran smack into the RED merc standing at the edge of the water. "What are you doing?!" he cried. "They are going to—"

He faltered upon realizing whom he was talking to. Pyro did not acknowledge him, still staring at the water. The last time he recalled Pyro avoiding water was when it was “protecting” something it had set aflame, but it wasn’t holding anything other than its axe at the moment.

Before he could think any further on this, an explosion rang out just outside the sewers, followed by an announcement that the enemy had dropped the intelligence.

"Oh, got some of 'em on me shirt that time!" the Demo shouted with a laugh.

Spy snorted, whipping out his butterfly knife and preparing to leave to defend the intelligence when he spotted something out of the corner of his eye—Pyro had turned around to stare at him. Spy stared back, just for a moment, before cloaking and retreating.

He did not see the Pyro for the rest of the match, much to his relief. It must have gone back to defend the intelligence room again, and Spy avoided the room thereafter, instead opting to aid his own teammates in obtaining the enemy intelligence by taking out the enemy sentries and sniper. The remainder of the match went smoothly, with the RED team scoring yet another pointless victory. Spy rolled his shoulders as he headed back to spawn, only to freeze in his tracks.

Scout sat against the wall, breathing heavily.

Spy's mind plunged into a blank, staticy whirl, his heart threatening to break free of his ribcage. He could smell the smoke from the destroyed robots, the metallic tang of blood, and Scout was so hideously pale. There weren't any respawn machines here, and the Medic—

"What're you lookin' at, chucklenuts?" Scout snapped, tipping back the brim of his baseball cap as he fixed Spy with a look. His face was flushed red and glistening with sweat; he wiped his brow.

Rolling his eyes, Spy forcibly shoved the imagery from his mind. "Only wondering why you are wasting time when we need to return to spawn."

"What, I can't take a breather? I ran straight from the BLU intelligence room to here without stopping, or getting hit." Wincing, he held a hand against the side of his chest. "Mostly, anyway."

So he hadn't been imagining the smell of blood. Though it wasn't as strong as it had been back when... "You can rest after you've seen the Medic. Move."

Scout muttered a few unsavory words before pushing himself up to his feet, trudging back toward spawn, and Spy followed, closely inspecting the walls around them so he could look everywhere but at Scout.

When they arrived, Spy busied himself with tidying up his locker. He could hear Scout chatting with Medic, but tuned it out with the rustle of paper and fabric. His hand found a lint brush, and he used it to gently clean off his jacket and pants. Yes, they had another round in a short while, but it never hurt to look one's best.

As he bent down to clean off the bottoms of his pant legs, the hair stood on the back of his neck. Bristling, he whipped around to see Pyro once again staring at him from the other side of the room. This time, he stared right back, maintaining eye contact (or whatever approximated it with that creature's mask) before slamming his locker door shut and striding off to the bathroom to finish tidying himself up.

When he opened the door to step back out, he almost immediately leaped backwards to find the Pyro staring at him from just outside. He half-expected to see an axe or flamethrower being held at the ready, but Pyro's hands were empty.

...Oh. Perhaps it just needed to use the washroom itself. With a grunt, Spy weaved around it and back into the spawn room. But to his consternation, Pyro followed him.

Finally Spy whirled around to face him. "What?" he snapped.

Pyro said nothing, and turned its head slightly to the side.

Frustration mounting, Spy opened his mouth—

"Mission begins in ten seconds!"

Sniper hurried to the Pyro's side. "Mate, can we have a word? An enemy spy caught me last round, and if you could..."

Spy turned away from the conversation, instead checking over his equipment in preparation for the round.

He wasn't sure what he would've gotten out of talking to that thing, anyway.

—-

The match had gone on as normal, other than Spy doing all he could to avoid Pyro. They'd won another swift victory and returned to their base to cool off.

After hanging behind the others to make sure he wasn't tailed by anyone again, Spy quickly found himself in his smoking room, sitting on his chair and facing the fireplace. He had a fire going—entirely unnecessarily for all but atmosphere—and a book open on his lap, a glass of wine at his side. A few drags from his cigarette and a few sips of wine were quickly taking the edge off of the events of the day's match.

A victory, yes. But with more than a few things that bothered him.

Pyro had, of course, realized that Spy had been... well, spying on it. But what it planned to do with that information, Spy had no clue. It had yet to attack him, and he didn't much enjoy being watched by that creature every second it was around him.

It didn't help that he had no way to actually ask the Pyro anything. It couldn't talk intelligibly to begin with, and now it was refusing to vocalize at all. What was he supposed to do? Give it a pen and paper? He didn't even know if it could read or write, let alone hold a pen in its creepy claws.

Sighing, he tried to turn his focus to the book he'd pulled off his shelf. He could figure this out another time—for now, he only wished to unwind.

Of course, no one else in this stupid base seemed to agree.

THUD. THUD.

Spy's lips pulled back in a grimace. "Who is it? What do you want?" he called out, letting the annoyance edge into his voice. Hopefully whoever it was would pick up on it and decide to leave him alone for once.

He gave a bitter laugh at the thought, and sure enough, the bothersome person was once again knocking.

THUD. THUD.

"You have got to be kidding me," Spy muttered, setting his book aside and rising from his chair. He strode over to the door. "Who is it?" he demanded.

No response.

Frowning, he opened the door a crack and peered through. Upon seeing nothing, he opened the door wider, and to his consternation, found absolutely no one outside.

Ah. Probably another one of Scout's stupid pranks. Rolling his eyes, he turned around.

The Pyro stood beside the fireplace, staring directly at him.

Spy gave a start, his heart jumping into his throat before his fear turned to anger. "You—?!" he sputtered, then stormed closer. "How did you get in here?!"

Pyro lifted its left hand, pointing at the door.

Spy glanced back at the door. "Yes, hilarious. But how—" He stopped himself, realizing that Pyro had probably sneaked into here before he'd arrived. But then why go through the trouble of distracting...

Tap, tap.

Turning back to Pyro, he realized abruptly that it was holding something, which it had tapped against the side of the fireplace. It took him a moment to realize it was the book he'd just been reading. "...Wait."

Pyro's head jerked toward the fireplace, and it held the book out.

Spy gave a start. "Don't you dare."

And Pyro tossed the book into the fire, setting it ablaze, and pointed at the burning book.

"Sacré bleu!" he cried, bolting over to the fireplace. "What have you done?!"

The Pyro's head snapped back in his direction, and it pointed at the fire with more emphasis.

Spy stumbled to a halt beside the Pyro and returned its gaze, staring at the reflection of flames in the creature's dark goggles. For a moment he could see himself in Pyro's room the night prior, the creature staring at him through—or with—those same dark lenses. The memory of it sharply brought him back to reality, and he followed where the Pyro was pointing, staring at the pages of the book as they curled and blackened in the flames. After watching this for a second, he looked back.

Pyro gave a brief nod, and reached for him.

"Mon dieu!" Spy stumbled back. "What are you—?!"

Pyro exhaled a sharp breath through its filter, and took a step toward him. Its suit and mask gleamed in the light of the fire, and it made a grab for him.

With a yelp, Spy stumbled back again, looking from the fire to Pyro and quickly realizing what the thing intended to do. Without another word, he bolted for the door.

Yet Pyro had somehow anticipated his move, and swerved to block him. It held one hand out, palm forward, and its breathing was heavy through its filter.

Spy's heart pounded, but he glared. "Out of my way, you mush-mouthed freak!"

To his fury, the Pyro shook its head, and reached for him again.

Later, Spy would tell himself that it was purely on instinct. Maybe it was. Maybe it was something else. Whatever it was, the next thing he knew he had flipped open his butterfly knife and was swinging his arm in a stab. At the last moment he realized what was happening, and adjusted the stab into an awkward slash, tearing across the Pyro's arm.

Maybe because he was expecting it, he thought he heard a strained noise after the slash. But he was more concerned with rushing to the other side of the room, hoping to find another way to get around that deadly creature. But to his surprise, it was already hurrying out of the room, one hand grasping its injured arm. He watched it leave, and, once he was sure it was gone, hurriedly shut and latched the door behind it.

The room now secured, he stumbled back to his chair, numbly retrieving a cloth from his pocket and cleaning the blade of his knife. As he picked up his wine glass to down it, he happened to glance at the cloth, staring at the mix of blood and soot that was smeared across it.

Why had he ever gotten involved?

#tf2 spy #tf2 pyro #tf2 scout #team fortress 2 #my art #my writing #fanfic #flickering fanfic

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astrogriffin · 10 months

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Just got back home from Närcon, my first cosplay convention ever. Just as I walked through the door into my apartment I started crying.

I’m overwhelmed by the feeling of familiarity, I am back home in my lonely apartment, I have to go back to the same old work soon, back to the rythm of being stuck in the same place.

At the convention I braved my way into a tf2 group in my Pyro cosplay. I am autistic, I have pretty severe social phobia, I never know what to say or how to act normally. I always feel completely alien no matter where I go.

Instantly another Pyro waved at me to come forward, to join them. In the suit I didn’t have to talk or show my face, so no one could judge me like I fear people always do. A Soldier gave me a flower pin, an Engineer saw my axe, smiled, reached into his toolbox and gave me a tiny 3D-printed axe. Several people praised my outfit, I felt appreciated.

Another Pyro appeared in a ballonicorn mask and my immediate instinct was to hug them, and for once in my life I felt all the fear and anxiety wash away for just a moment as I spontaneously hugged a complete stranger, who warmly hugged me back.

We had a photoshoot and I got to spend time surrounded by people who came together to share their love for this one specific thing, and I could feel it.

It’s the sort of love and acceptance I have craved my whole life, to be with a group of people where I can just be myself and be silly, and not be pressured to talk, or worry about what everyone will think of me.

And now that I’m back home I can feel the loneliness again, somehow heavier than before.

Thank you, TF2 community, for giving me a space where I could feel like myself for a while.

#long post #närcon #tf2 #team fortress 2 #cosplay #social phobia #autism #personal

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wjbs-aus · 2 months

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I've seen fanart of Engineer TF2 cutting his arm off (because Gunslinger) and he's using a saw and there's, like, a point made that it's painful. But like. I'm just imagining him putting a toolbox on the ground and an Arm Chopping Machine pops out, he sticks his arm in, it falls into a nearby pedalbin or something, and then he just like calmly wedges the Gunslinger onto the stump.

Either that or Medic did it, and the two were discussing their respective fields of study during the whole thing.

#tf2 #engineer tf2 #medic tf2

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toobusybeingdead · 5 months

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TF2 Engineer x Reader Part 1

Summary: The Red team of Teufort was used to having only nine members. Who knew that adding a tenth merc would eventually change everything or that they would have a closer connection to the rest of the team than they all knew?

Chapters: Part One Part two Part three

The team was gathered in the recreation room, lounging around, doing their own individual thing. It was the first ceasefire day in a while and the fort was under no immediate threat as far as they knew. Medic was reading some new medical journals, Spy was impersonating people on the opposing team while Pyro and Scout were watching him, Demo was sprawled out napping in an armchair, Heavy was enjoying a sandwich, Soldier was playing with Lieutenant Bites, Sniper was trying to get his scopes back into focus, and Engineer was sitting on the couch looking at a photo.

Medic looked up from his journal and saw the Texan’s sad face and became concerned. “Are you okay, Dell?” He asked, causing the rest of the team to look up at their teammate.

Dell sighed. “Yeah, just thinkin’ ‘bout my lady back home.” He smirked as he looked back at the photo. “I haven’t seen her in so long, I wouldn’t be surprised if she doesn’t recognise me when they let us go home.” The team began to crowd around Dell to get a peek at his love. The photo he had was worn from being in his hat all of the time but the picture was still clear. He was sitting on the tailgate of his truck as a woman held him in her arms and kissed his cheek.

Scout squinted at the photo. “That kind of looks like…” He trailed off before snatching it to get a closer look. “It is!” He yelled. “You're dating my little sister?” His face went red as he tried to lunge at Dell, Misha held the young man back. “No! Let me kick his ass!”

Dell sighed and took the photo back. “Cool your britches, son, I didn’t know you even had a sister. All you ever talk about is your seven brothers.” He placed the photo back in his hat. “Besides, she’s the one who asked me on the first date.”

Jeremy tried to wiggle out of the Russian’s grip. “Well you can’t date her anymore! She’s never allowed to date, ever! She’s just a kid and you’re too old for her!”

The Texan rubbed his temples. “She's twenty three, Jeremy, I know I’m forty three and that's quite a large difference but we're both adults.” He finished calming his headache.

The sound of floorboards cheeked causing the team to look at the doorway and freeze. The team’s Herbalist was standing there with a potted plant in their hands. Originally they all feared Pyro but when the Herbalist was introduced, they stole the spotlight. With their plague doctor-esq uniform and mask paired with their silence, the team didn’t know if they were in a horror movie or not. They looked at Dell and mumbled something before placing the plant on a windowsill. They mumbled something again but no one was able to hear a single word they said.

Before anyone could say something the sirens started to roar, alerting that there was an intruder near the base and the team ran for their gear before running outside to defend Teufort. Dell ran to a platform with a decent vantage point over the enemy team and began to build a sentry. He reached into his toolbox for his wrench but ended up grabbing a piece of paper. “What in the tarnation is this?” He asked himself before reading it. “We said no secrets between us but you can clearly see that I wasn’t completely open about everything. You met one of my brothers and have seven more to see, but the main thing you don’t know about is my profession. Meet me under the platform leading to the intel room.” He stared at the note in disbelief. “Y/n?” He whispered.

While Dell was preoccupied with the note the Herbalist was watching him from an adjacent platform and saw the enemy spy sneaking up on the engineer. They tried to get over to him as quickly as they could but it was too late, the spy slit his neck and ran away.

The herbalist finally made it over to Dell and placed a cloth over his neck before pouring a strange liquid over it. Their heart was racing and their mask began to suffocate them. They tore the leather mask off and took a few deep breaths before looking down at Dell who stared at them in awe. They smiled and placed their hand on his cheek. “Hi, Dell. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Dell couldn’t believe his eyes, it was her! It was y/n! The person he’s been scared of for the past year and a half was his girlfriend! “Y/n…” He smiled and leaned into her hand. “I missed you.”

Y/n smiled and kissed her boyfriend. “I know but you can’t talk right now, you need to save every bit of energy you have.” She reached into her bag and grabbed another bottle. “I’m sorry I have to do this but you can’t be using any strength you have left.” Before Dell could question her she placed the bottle to his lips and forced him to drink the liquid. “I’ll explain everything when I come back.” She placed her mask back on her face and began dragging Dell into the fort. A siren went off, congratulating the team for successfully defending their home. She dragged her boyfriend to the medbay where the rest of the team was waiting for their injuries to be healed.

“What the hell happened to him?” Ludwig shouted as he rushed over to help get Dell onto a bed.

Y/n said nothing as she left. When someone tried to question her again she looked at them with the dark voids her mask had for eyes and kept her silence before finally leaving.

#tf2 engineer #engineer x reader #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #engineer x you #x reader #tf2

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thebadchoicemachine · 2 years

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Pauling In Blunderland 2

TF2 Alice in Wonderland AU

All Chapters • Ao3

Chapter 2/14 - That Talking Plank Of Wood Is From Texas, Apparently

“WOOOHOOOOOOOOOO!” Pauling cried in absolute delight as she rushed downward.

She had no idea how long she’d been sliding but the wind was rushing, she was heading into someplace that was probably exciting , and she was having the time of her life.

TUNK.

“ OW.”

Her fun was cut short by a red and blue checkered floor and/or ceiling. Specifically, it was cut short because she slammed into the surface head-first.

She flopped onto her back, life flashing before her eyes. Amazingly, she wasn’t dead or paralyzed. Aside from the initial shock of the impact, plus some minor residual pain, she was completely fine.

She looked up, squinting, following the rope into the darkness. She’d been going down feet first, how did she end up on her head?

Pauling stumbled upright, taking in her new surroundings.

She was in a bizarre, workshop-like place. Strange machines of every shape and size cluttered the area. The only place that wasn’t lined with some kind of tool, mechanism, or contraption was the spot where she’d landed. She couldn’t tell how big the room was because there didn’t appear to be any walls, just shadows that circled the eye-straining floor. It gave off a liminal effect.

The space was a distinctly average temperature despite all the purring motors and, though she couldn’t see anything being worked on, the sound of saws, fireballs, hammers, and various other tools rang into the air.

The construction ambiance took an unbalanced pattern, almost like a percussion performance—almost. The whirring and banging blended into an uncanny rhythm. It wasn’t musical, but if she didn’t pay attention she’d mistake it for one. The not-quite-a-song was low and quiet, relaxing even. A little country. It gave Pauling the image of casually lounging around a campfire or breakroom.

“Whoah there, Miss. That was quite a tumble,” a deep, clement voice echoed around her, cutting through the not-music.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” She swiveled her head, trying to find the source of the voice. “So, stranger living in a weird factory under a bomb hatch, have you by any chance seen an anthropomorphic rabbit run by here? Not a furry,” she quickly clarified. “Like an actual animal person.”

“You mean Scout? Sure have. Everyone gets a load of that kid, whether they want to or not.”

“Oh, well, that’s great because I do want to. Find him, that is. I’m sorry, I can’t focus when I can’t see you. Where are you?

“Over here, missy,” the voice called again.

Pauling spun around, still unable to locate any person.

“No, over here. Ma’am. Over HERE.”

Even with his raised voice giving her a sense of his general direction, she couldn't find him. “I don’t see anything but your machines. Can you come to me?”

“You’re a bit touched, ain’tcha? Course I can’t! Ah, here, just head where the sentries are pointing.”

Suddenly, every machine in the room spun. Pauling jumped back as several turrets aimed themselves right at her.

She turned around slowly, carefully tracing the direction of the pointers with her finger. They led to a solid gate-shaped piece of wood that blended into the clutter. It was also smaller than the average machine in the room, only about as high as her ribcage.

The pattern of the wood gave it the vague outline of a simplistic face. Two oddly round knots for the eyes, a bump in the center that could be interpreted as a nose, and cracks that impersonated a mouth.

The pane of wood was different—it wasn’t mechanical like everything else—but she still could not see the person she was talking to.

Maybe I’m meant to do something with this first? Pauling questioned, reaching down to touch one of the knots.

“Owch!” The block yelled as her finger tapped against it.

Pauling shrieked, falling backward into a jagged pile of open toolboxes. She fumbled to straighten her glasses but her clear vision only confirmed the scene in front of her.

The face on the wood was not a coincidental pattern of the plank. The face on the wood was a face. A moving, speaking face. The “eyes” looked more like goggles, but they moved and blinked, and they stared down at her.

It chuckled, “What’s wrong? I ain’t that ugly.” Its voice was still amiable and calming, despite her horrified reaction.

“I just… I just didn’t realize you were a… a… actually, I still have no idea what you are.”

“So, Scout racing around (probably causing trouble for a girl like you) ain’t no thing, but me sitting in my own workshop gets you yowling like a pig on a ham holiday?”

Pauling thought about it. This wasn’t much weirder than anything else she’d seen today. “I see your point,” she conceded, standing up and brushing loose screws out of her hair. “Sorry for stabbing you in the eye goggles thing.”

“It’s fine, nice to have a ruckus caused by someone knew for once. I’m the Engineer. Nice to meet you, Miss…?”

“Pauling.” She instinctively held out a hand, awkwardly moving it to fix her sleeve when she realized Engineer didn’t have any hands to shake.

“Pauling, huh? Never heard of those before. What do you do?”

“Mostly I work in ‘clean up.’ You know, fixing and preventing messes.”

“Clean up, huh? You won’t have much use for that ‘round here.”

Pauling couldn’t help but grin. “Thank God. It’s actually pretty boring.”

“In that case, I can see why you’d wanna find Scout.”

“Right!” Pauling had almost forgotten. “Which way did he go?”

“Through me.”

“Oh, uh, are you a door?”

Engineer smiled, amused. “I’m the Engineer. I make doors, in a way, but I’d consider myself more of a wall. A chart, a dossier, if you will. The quick way in and out of most places is to ask me.”

“In that case, can you help me find rabbit boy? Please?”

“You see that machine over there?” The turrets spun around again, this time pointed at a tiny contraption on top of one of the various larger ones. “That’s where he went.”

Pauling picked it up, squinting to examine it before placing it back down on the other machine. It wasn’t much bigger than a lego but it looked like an incredibly complicated piece of equipment.

“How do I use it?”

“Hold on, now. You’re a bit too big for that.”

“What, is there a weight limit?” She joked.

“Uh.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Technically. ‘Course, I wouldn’t have said it that way but, yes, there is. You really think you could fit on top of that right now? It’s no problem, though. You see that machine it was sitting on? That there’s a dispenser.”

The dispenser churned to life as he spoke, spitting out a white tablet.

“Take that, it’ll get you where you need to go.”

Pauling took the tablet between her fingers and held it up to her eye. It was chalky, unmarked, and altogether suspicious. In her gut, she felt like she could trust Engineer, but in her head, she knew that popping pills from talking walls was a very stupid idea.

Then again, she might already be in a hallucination.

Pauling didn’t know why she hadn’t considered the possibility sooner. She’d already had so many weird things happen: humanoid rabbits, magical mechanic workshops in upside-down bomb hatches, and, most unbelievable of all, she’d been given a break!

“Hey, Engineer, you said this is the quickest but is there any other way out of here?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he replied, doing the closest thing to shrugging he could. “I suppose if you started walking you might end up somewhere new eventually, but I’ve always been content with my projects here. My workshop is a big place.”

“Uh-huh.” Pauling looked around again. Just as she (kind of) expected, the rope she’d come down on was nowhere to be found. When she looked up, all she saw was the same liminal darkness that ebbed the edges of the room. “So, there’s no way I could get back, right?”

“Back where?”

“You know, my world.”

Engineer stared blankly. “I’d have to say no to that. I can’t send you somewhere I don’t know. Besides, travel anywhere outside of Blunderland ain’t really my business.”

“Blunderland?”

“Well, where else would we be?” He spoke gently and with a subtle humor as if she was talking nonsense.

“Yup. Okay. Copy that.”

Either this is a dream and nothing bad can happen to me, or this is real and I don’t have a choice, Pauling reasoned to herself. She held the tablet up to Engineer. “Welp, bottoms up.”

“What?”

“Nevermind.” She popped the tablet and swallowed it dry.

Strangely, although she barely had it in her mouth, it was extremely flavorful. The idea of char, bread, bacon, olives, and alcohol twisted around her tongue as if she’d just eaten a large lunch. She smacked her lips, trying to tell if the taste was bad or not.

Aside from the weird savoriness, she didn’t feel any different. She turned to ask Engineer how long it would take for the effect to set in. Rather than the short plank of wood she expected, she was met instead with an eye-to-eye view.

She faltered. “Did you get taller?”

“Nope.”

“Then did I— Woah.” Her question was answered before she could ask it. Everything in the room suddenly rushed upward, expanding, as she saw herself shrink.

Pauling blinked rapidly. She rubbed and tapped her face, trying to come to her senses again.

She was still standing upright, but it felt as though she’d blacked out. At first glance, her surroundings didn’t look different; machines ranging from giant to tiny encircled her still. They still thumped and puffed along to that odd not-rhythm.

“Engineer?” She called into the clangor.

His response was booming. “Up here.”

She obeyed, searching upward to find Engineer was now the size of a house compared to her. She laughed in wonder. “I shrunk!”

“That was the idea,” Engineer beamed with a humble tint of pride. “Now, just step on the teleporter and you can be on your way.”

“Great! Where’s the teleporter?”

“It’s the first machine I showed you. That little feller.”

“You mean the one I left on the top of the dispenser?” She sheepishly asked.

“Er, yeah. That would be the one.

Pauling sighed. “Okay. This is fine. I’ll just have to go for an unplanned climb. Annoying, but not the end of the world.”

“Ain’t that thing like a mountain to you right now? I respect the gumption, but you could just use that little dispenser down there. No disrespect intended, ma’am,” he politely added. “I’m sure you could do it on your own if you wanted."

Pauling looked to her right, noticing a dispenser with a freshly dispensed tablet waiting. “Oh. That’ll be easier.”

She picked up the pill and took it, this time prepared for the dizzying ordeal of size-shifting. The dispenser next to her shrunk down into a miniature. She watched as Engineer also shrunk until he was back to his rib-high height—and then he was waist-high… then thigh-high… then knee-high. When she finally stopped, she could pluck him up like doll furniture.

“Well I’ll be,” he marveled. “I should probably label the dosage on these a bit more clearly.”

Pauling was far less casual about the over-corrective rection. “What do I do now?”

“Right, right, sorry, I get carried away when it comes to my machines sometimes.”

“That teleporter has gotta be smaller than my fingernail at this point!”

“I don't know! You got any tweezers on you or something?”

“Actually, I might. Hold on.”

Pauling slung the pack she had off her soldiers. She riffled through a side pocket and pulled out a little case, clicking it open to reveal a set of tools tucked neatly inside.

“Nice. You’re my kind of person,” Engineer complimented.

“Thanks. That’s one bonus of my work, I guess. I always have to be prepared.”

She reached down and carefully lifted the dispenser, cupping her hands to ensure the teleporter wouldn’t fall. She gently lifted the teleporter with her tweezers.

Now, how am I supposed to get the shrinking tablet? It’s like a grain of sand to me now. She wondered. Hmm. What if I just…

She put the dispenser up to her mouth and licked it. At first, all she could taste was metal like she’d put a quarter in her mouth. Then, that lunchmeats/cider flavor spread through her tongue again, and vertigo coursed through her senses again.

An onrush once again overtook her body and the room expanded around her. Or, rather, it expended below her as she was abruptly a few miles up in the air, free-falling and the tiniest she’d ever been.

The teleporter grew as well, busting out of her tweezer’s grip. It was now the size of a longboard. It hovered in the air next to Pauling for a split second before it began plummeting much faster than her.

“Ah! Oh hell, oh hell, oh hell, oh hell,” she panicked.

Her wits took a while to catch up to her as she fell toward the gargantuan steel-filled room below. She flailed before realizing she still had a way out of this that didn’t involve her splatting onto a dispenser like a squished fly.

She gained composure (as much composure as one could while flailing in the air towards an ever-approaching doom) and straightened herself into a diving position.

Gaining on the teleporter, she shouted to Engineer, “How does this thing work?”

“You just gotta stand on top, it’ll do the rest!”

Pauling gave a firm and determined nod, although there was no way Engineer would be able to see her response. She stuck her arms out, stretching like rubber, but her fingertips only brushed the edge of the teleporter.

Too short on time to risk reaching again, she dove again and fell beneath the teleporter and spread out.

“Oof,” she spluttered as the clunky machine hit her in the chest.

A glance from the side of her vision let her know she had about ten seconds before she turned into a stain. She wrapped her arms around the teleporter and heaved herself to the right side. The bricks on the end began to spin wildly until all she could see was a blurry circle.

“Good luck!” She heard Engineer say just before she hit the surface and her vision went bright.

#tf2 #engineer #miss pauling #Team Fortress 2 #tf2 au #team fortess 2 au #alice in wonderland au #fanfiction #woah those are words I wrote

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gaysonlyocean · 10 months

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my friend doesn't care when I do a silly

One time spy tf2 got absolutely vibechdcked. Like engineers toolbox falling on his head. Rip!!!

-silyl

HELP OKIJUHGRDERGTJIP

#THANK YOU #silly anon

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justatf2blog · 4 years

Text

Yeah so yesterday on Discord I asked for some screenshots and Gransare sent me this.

And I totally needed to draw this. They were nice enough to let me adopt him.

I call him Toolbox Engie.

#he is so precious to me #he deserves nothing but love and joy #him and my pyro will be good friends #team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 engineer #toolbox engie #my art #tf2 screenshot #tf2 screenshot redraw

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kman096 · 7 years

Photo

Engie's toolbox

#tf2 #tf2 engineer #tf2 engie #toolbox

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jackofmanytf2 · 2 years

Text

Insult Over Injury

(be aware: mildly spicy language, violence, and bloodshed; some grumbling about TF2 Australians...)

Different locations require different sorts of work. The bigger, more permanent places usually require the most day-to-day, routine care– especially when it comes to cleaning. There are some smaller places, however, that I get sent to for a short stint, where it’s more of a repairs situation. Like this little wooden complex in a dusty canyon, with a radio tower in the center. No mopping the windswept planks, but I’ll give them a quick sweep at the end of the day. The lavatories are smaller and older, with only two showerheads (which makes for interesting scheduling with ten folks, when three of us– Spy, Pyro, and myself– are quite strict about our bodily privacy) three urinals, and two stalls (another interesting juggling of necessity versus logistics, though I know for a fact a couple of these men find corners outdoors to shake hands with the vicar). The kitchen, too, is older and smaller, and the appliances ought to have been replaced twenty years ago, but instead need upkeep every night to keep limping along under the abuses of all of us. But what keeps me gainfully employed around here the most are the repairs to wooden walkways and bridges and barriers to tunnels that shouldn’t be accessed by anybody that wants to stay alive.

I had hoped to have most of these repairs done before the rival mercs arrived, but I am not that lucky in this life. There isn’t a Blue facility anywhere nearby that I know about, but the entire reason the mercs are here is to repel an attack they’d been told would be coming. I don’t know any details, and don’t ask any questions, but if I had to guess: it has something to do with the radio tower. So the mercs in the blue shirts have arrived, and things are noisy and messy, but there is still some work I need to finish on one of the bridges, otherwise It won’t stand up to a direct hit from anything stronger than a stiff breeze, much less the Heavy and his weapon’s weight. I’ve left the wood I’m using in place– in the vain and foolish hope that nobody has kicked it down into the canyon or blown it up or set it on fire (on purpose or accidentally)– and am carrying my toolbox through one of the quieter pathways, circling far out of the way of the fighting.

So imagine my surprise when blistering pain explodes through my arm and shoulder as a force hits me hard enough to throw me against the nearest wall. I yell– I’m not sure what, probably something foul and unprofessional– and my tools clatter to the ground. I’m stuck where I am, my arm pinned to the wall, and it’s through a bright blotchy film over my vision that I see the feathered fletching and last spare inches of wooden shaft through my upper arm and the rest through the wooden wall behind it. There’s very little blood, but a whole lot of pain, especially when every movement tugs at the wound. Beyond it, back the way I came, I can see the archer. He’s lowering his bow instead of reaching for another arrow, and my heart is already beating fast.

“Ca-came all the way out this way just to shoot me?” I snarl, trying to tuck my shoulder closer to my ear to keep the damaged muscles from twitching screaming agony as they try to hold up the rest of my arm.

“You’re a Red,” He growls back, the timbre of his voice making his accent all the thicker, giving a one-shouldered shrug as he pulls out a big hacking blade from the sheathe hanging from his hip, “that’s reason enough–”

“-- Not very sporting of you. I’m not even armed, you bogan!” I don’t really know what that word means, but I’ve dealt with enough Australians to know it’s rude.

“Still a Red,” He reminds me, closing the distance between us but taking his time about it, bringing back images of every time I’ve seen a cat play with its prey, “And my mate tells me you not having a gun don’t seem to keep you from getting the drop on us… Fair’s fair, ain’t it?”

“In my contract to keep the briefcase–”

“--His job to take it from you, mate,” He shrugs again, flashing teeth in a lopsided grin that I can see clearly as he stalks through a thin dagger of sunlight peeking between wooden slats, reflecting off his yellow glasses with surreal glare, “No point whingin’ on about the job, hey? We’re all professionals here…”

We might all be professionals here, but I’m a non-combatant and there’s something about the way he’s stalking toward me with that big damn blade in his hand that smacks more than professional. He pinned me here so I couldn’t get away, and instead of putting one through my head or my heart, he’s coming over to finish me close and personal.

I tell myself I’m not going to let him see me scared. I’ve been bullied by enough Australians to know they don’t let you live it down. That’s true of everybody, I guess, but the folk from the Land Down-Under seem to me to not know what to do with all their good fortune–with all their brains, muscle, and impressive chest hair—besides look down on and make trouble for other folks. This bloke is already going to tell his team I whinged on about how unsportsmanlike he was to hunt me down instead of picking a target that could fight back proper, and the way he’ll make it sound, I can expect a lot of jokes at my expense before going through respawn in the future.

That’s what this seems to be all about: insult over injury. I bested his friend, the Scout– me, the janitor– and so he’s here to put me in my place.

He’s tall, like the Sniper hired by the company I work for, and there are a lot of similarities I notice as he looms nearer and nearer, flipping that big blade in his hand, glowering down at me from behind his yellow glasses. It bothers me that I can’t see his eyes. It bothers me more that he’s still showing his teeth, and the light isn’t as good now, so I don’t know if it’s still that lopsided grin or a snarl, now. I can’t tell if he can see me clearly…

Because I’m telling myself I’m not going to let him see me scared, but… I’m scared. I’m real damn scared. I’ve died a good half-dozen times already, and respawned, but most of those deaths have been instant if not painless. But this Death’s Head on a mopstick means to make it hurt, and maybe make it last, if he can…

“Speakin’ of ‘fair’...” He growls, well-within reach now, looking down his nose at me while the point of the big blade points just above my belly-button, and I feel my stomach pull in reflexively, “Nine versus ten, isn’t, wouldn’t you agree? Some of us might be spewin’ after learnin’ the Reds got a maid–”

“-- I’m not a maid! If you Blues want a tenth, take it up with your bosses!”

“Might, at that,” He shrugs, “but fer now, we’re takin’ it up with you.”

I’m scared, but I’m angry now, too, and I’m not just gonna stand here and die. I’m not gonna make it so easy for him. You paint yourself as an easy target, you’ll never have any peace. I have too much goddamn work to do for this!

I’m not a professional killer or a mercenary, and I’m small with a much shorter reach, but he walked all the way over here, and I’m gonna make him regret that. Because I fight dirty and I move fast– something his ‘mate’ apparently didn’t warn him about. Before he knows it, my boot is buried so deep between his legs, he’s probably choking on his balls while croaking his protest of pain and his glasses have slid far enough down his nose that I can see his eyes bulge. I don’t really get away with it– he’s pretty quick too, and his blade was already moving. Maybe trying to stop me? He’s chopped deep into my thigh, and the pain is blinding, but there’s another sensation that makes me think he’s hit bone. It’s the same sort of sensation as on the other side of the knife, when I did some butcher work back east for awhile, and sometimes you thud right into a bone you’d meant to avoid or chop through. I yowl like an angry alley cat and unload a few more colorful slurs not meant for the workplace, but adrenaline keeps me alert instead of aware of how much blood I’m losing. The lanky bastard is losing his feet, trying his best to keep from doubling over himself. He’s hurt me twice now and well, he was the one carrying on about fairness… Here I’ve got only one arm and one leg, so I press both shoulders against the wall and grab the arrow in my arm as close to the wound as I can manage to brace back, and use pain and fury both to kick my good leg up over my head to kick him in the face, shattering his glasses and his nose at once.

“Eat shit, you rabid mongrel!” I yell as he falls on his arse, sadly out of reach of more kicks. I know I should hurt, but I don’t. I feel light and my heart is still throttling with adrenaline, but I finally notice all the blood spurting from my leg and now my arm as well. I have less than a minute before I die in this state, but something about this situation feels like a victory. Maybe I’ll bleed out before that bastard gets up again. Either way, he won’t be able to do me in the way he wanted. Adding insult to injury, he’s gonna have to make up an excuse for his limp and busted face (if he survives the day) or explain that he got his arse handed to him by the janitor even after pinning ‘em to the damn wall!

A shotgun blast throws him forward, folding him in half in an undignified sort of seated position, his hat thrown to my feet and the back of his head removed.

“Jack!” Engie is alarmed, but I make the effort to stomp the hat at my feet, first. Behind Engie, Pyro is running up. Together they reach me, and Engie is looking over my situation with an expression that probably means he wishes one of his eleven degrees was in human or animal medicine about now while he passes the shotgun to his ally. “We have to get you to the doc right away!”

He’s digging in his pockets and I shake my head, feeling dizzy, my mouth dry, “Nah. Just send me through respawn…”

“Can’t do that…” He says, pulling some length of… something– I can’t see well– out and unraveling it in his hands swiftly. I look numbly over at Pyro who shrugs both shoulders with a “Mmp-hm-mphhp-mmp…?”

“Can’t do that,” Engie repeats firmly, tying the something around my leg, high on my inseam. Painful tight, and I hiss, “It’s against the ROE’s, buddy. Shouldn’t put extraneous burden on the respawn, so killing off allies ain’t looked at kindly. Sorry, Jack, yer just gonna have to hold on. We’ll get you to Medic and he’ll sort you out…”

By the time they get me yanked off the wall, the blue-shirted Sniper’s corpse is gone, already cycling through their respawn, and I’m barely with it. I think someone slung me over their shoulder, but I couldn’t tell you who.

I come back around in a warm red glow, but I don’t have time to thank the Medic before he’s already rushing off after the Soldier to defend against another push. Engie pats me on the shoulder, itching to get back to his sentries.

“Thanks. He woulda got me in the end if you hadn’t got him…” I tell him quietly.

He adjusts his helmet and makes a sound in his throat, “He’s a nasty piece of work. Ours calls him a ‘wanker’... but then, I guess he calls a lot of people ‘wankers’… Anyway, you had him all but handled. Might have to get you fitted with a kill counter at this rate. And a real weapon?”

He’s grinning at me, and I wonder if he’s winking at me under his goggles, “No thanks, Mr. Conagher. I’ve already got a full plate…” I sigh. I’ve still got those repairs to make…

The Blue Sniper doesn’t approach me again, but he doesn’t have to. He kills me three times before the end of the day– or so I’m told in the kitchen later when everyone is comparing statistics– and I go through respawn five times in total.

To add insult to injury, the wood I’ve set aside to repair the bridge has been drenched in foul smelling piss. So there’s that.

#TF2 #tf2 oc #tf2 reader insert #tf2 oc fic #tf2 ask blog #tf2 asks open #tf2 oc & engie #TF2 OC & Pyro #jackfic

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hearties-circus · 3 years

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Enge of near my beloved

[Reblogs > likes!]

[ID: Two digital drawings of Engineer from TF2. The drawing on the left is of Red Engineer, and is on a light blue background; the right is of Blue Engineer on a light pink background. In both, he hoists his toolbox over his shoulder and begins to run, shouting, “Movin’ out!” with a smile. /end ID.]

#al art #team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 engineer #very fun to draw and colour #doing those different yellows nearly killed me but thats fine #my phone also freaked the fuck out while i was drawing this and it was very rude #localdisasterisk is to thank for the ID!

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beepiesheepie · 3 years

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the tf2 mercs and what atla elements they’d bend cause you follow me and you signed up for my ramblings

this is literally gonna be that meme or mike wazowski hunched over and mike and that slug lady are looking at him like ‘wtf’. also these thoughts will not leave my brain until i write them down so feel free to ignore.

Scout: Airbender, hands down. Just look at him, look at everything he is and look at everything air represents. He’d likely be a rogue/non-monastery airbender cause he’s so self absorbed and worldly attached that he can’t follow their customs (which also makes him a weaker airbender by default, why? see Kyoshi’s mom). Air is the element of freedom, fun, and humor, and just look at Scout, its his most defining traits. Imagine this kid just zipping around on the battlefield with a huge cloud of dust following him, or using a glider to fly in some way. He absolutely would.

Soldier: At first I thought he’d be a non bender, but then I began to think it over, and fire is what kinda bender he’d be (if he was one, he could still be a non bender). Fire is the element of power and passion, and not only can it become wild or unhinged in the wrong hands but it can be very destructive. That fits Soldier’s bill pretty well, he’s a passionate man of raw power. You could also make the argument he’s an Earthbender, what with his and its elements of machismo, courage, and physical strength, which Soldier is not lacking in. He could maybe bend lava if he was an Earthbender, and I don’t see him as a metalbender- metalbenders go through some form of major display of strength, something that forces them to be stronger than they are and work harder (see: Toph discovering metalbending and Toph teaching her metalbending students in the comics). Overall I’m pretty mixed on Soldier, but it is cool to imagine him using fire to blast himself upward or normally rocket jumping but when he comes down there’s a big wave of rocks going everywhere. If you have thoughts I’d love to hear them. Overall he’s more likely to be a fire or non bender in my eyes, non especially. (Imagine him going “I don’t need to throw fancy rocks or toss fireballs to shove this boot up your ass.”)

Pyro: It’s literally in the fucking name, its right there, their entire being, pyro. Firebender, hands down. Considering how mysterious Pyro is already I don’t know what else to say about them, but from my own personal vibes, I think they’d draw firebending from life, energy, passion, etc.

Engineer: I think this man’s an Earth and Metalbender, he’s courageous, strong physically (how else do you lift all those damn toolboxes), and generally a down to earth kinda guy. And of course he metalbends cause it’s Just A Very Engineer Thing. Also imagining this tiny lil dude earthbending massive rocks is really cool.

Heavy: Now hear me out. Waterbender. Yeah Heavy is a big dude, yeah he’s strong and masculine and powerful and huge and all that, but people forget- he’s a man of family. He has three sisters and a mom and they were shoved into a gulag at a young age. He’s also smart and has a PhD in Literature. He’s smart, and family oriented, and gets along with his team in game and out of the game. He protects and is a wall for those he cares about, which is a huge trait of waterbending. Feel free to share your own thoughts, I’d love to hear em.

Demoman: Tbh I don’t have that much on him. he strikes me as a nonbender, as a real Sokka kinda guy where his brains and strategic mind shine as a replacement for his no bending. Sticky traps and planning projectile arcs or using demoknight is a huge part of strategy when playing him. Also, combining alcohol and firebending never sounds like a good idea.

Medic: You’d think he’d be a waterbender cause of healing right? Lmao no this man gives 0 fucks for anyone near him, that’s a surface level analysis. This man strikes me as a nonbender. He heals using what he’s got and he doesn’t need no bending to magically fix things. Sweat and blood prevail.

Sniper: Also a nonbender. Doesn’t strike me as any of the four elements in any particular way, other than maybe air or water. Don’t have much thoughts on him either.

Spy: Oh my god I am so torn. On the one hand, he’s Scout’s father, and also imagine him as another rogue airbender, or maybe an ex monastery airbender so he has tattoos? Him being an airbender is solely for the rule of cool factor. On the other hand he could also be a nonbender, but having all the support classes be nonbenders is a bit disappointing. On the OTHER hand though, and I expect controversy for this, waterbender. He’s not the most community oriented, in fact he hates everything he works with, but this man absolutely would not hesitate to use bloodbending if it meant the job’s done stealthily, also, he has a weapon in the game that’s an ice spike. Not a lot of reasons for waterbending here I just think it’d be cool

Ok rant’s over I’m gonna eat a pint of ice cream ok byeeeeee

#atla #tf2 #team fortress 2 #if you complain to me about this being different or weird youre on tumblr stop complaining #i have my weird interests too #and adhd #avatar: the last airbender #also no korra cause i havent seen korra

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