Stuff n' Things


So I just had to “refresh” my OS in order to fix an error with it.

Long story short I just lost all of my game data, all of my browser data, all of my driver updates, and my desktop background ;-; And now a buncha bloatware crap’s on my PC again.

Is sad night.

the-laridian answered: Soldier is the most “morning person” of the team, it hurts.


Loud, clanging pots and pans. Every. Single. Morning.

Soldier woke up at 4:45 AM every day. He spent precisely 30 minutes exercising, and then 30 minutes more showering. He would then go to his room and fetch “the morning bells”, “Old Glory” and “Freedom”. One was a stew pot, the other was a fry pan. He would then march through the entire base banging them together.

He started from the basement, where the Engineer’s workshop and Medic’s infirmary were located. Then he would clang his way up to the common rooms, garage, kitchen, workout room, showers, toilets, and training rooms. He would finish up by clanging his way through the bedrooms, often kicking down door after door to ensure that everyone woke up.

If someone tried to sleep in, he would stand above them and bang the pot and pan together until they got up.

From there, he would have them all stand and salute while he raised the American flag and sang the national anthem to the best of his ability. Sometimes he couldn’t quite remember the lyrics, but his heart was always in it.

Then, it was time for breakfast. If no one volunteered, Soldier would make breakfast. After a few days of Soldier’s cooking, someone would always scramble to volunteer. Soldier would laugh and tell jokes throughout, almost as if it wasn’t 7 AM.

Soldier didn’t appear to have any lower setting to how he functioned. He was either sound asleep, or wide awake. The team had learned to go to bed as early as possible if they wanted a good night’s sleep.

dat-smokin-booty answered: Injured RED Scout. Oops. Sorry.

This reminds me of another ficlet I wrote, so I’m gonna make this a follow-up to that :v (but it can stand alone, I think)


"Oops. Sorry."

Scout jolted a bit, hissing in pain. He didn’t know how long he’d been in the BLU base. Too long, in his opinion. But with that torrential downpour outside, he had no chance of leaving. Respawn was an option, but he had no freaking way of knowing if it was up or not.

So here he was, stuck with the enemy. Their Sniper had shot him full of arrows, and when the ceasefire was called for the storm, no one had noticed that he was gone. No one except the BLU Medic, apparently. Now Scout was sitting on an operating table while his wounds were tended to the old fashioned way. A BLU medigun couldn’t heal a RED teammate, unless they had a disguise kit.

Scout hissed again as another muttered apology came from the BLU Medic. The doctor was tending to his wounds, redressing them while cleaning them. It stung, yes, it hurt, definitely, but it sure beat the hell out of an infection.

He watched as the Medic washed up. This one wasn’t as chatty as his own team’s Medic. Maybe it was because they were enemies, he didn’t know. “Hey. Hey doc.”

The Medic looked at him sharply. Scout withered for a moment, then charged ahead anyway. “Thanks. Y’know. For not…leavin’ me to die.”

Medic sighed. “I couldn’t leave someone to die like zhat. You, are velcome.” He headed out after an awkward silence, then returned about thirty minutes later with some soup for both of them.

Eating was a relatively silent affair, too. Scout still found that he liked it. As damning as that was to admit. He liked the company of his enemy.

porkwithbones answered: The whole team except Medic is transformed into preteens. What happens next?


11. 12. 11. 10. 12. 12. 10. 9.

Those were the numbers that Medic found in the Respawn data. Some rare glitch that he’d never before witnessed, in all of his years as a mercenary. Every single member of the team had returned from Respawn as a child. Their age didn’t appear to correlate to the age that it spat them out as, although curiously the glitch had not affected him. Some part of him worried that he’d been too old to be changed.

He looked up from his clipboard at the eight preteens staring up at him. Their clothes had not changed to fit them. Engineer was swimming in a sea of overalls, while Pyro looked more like a deflated balloon. Scout only looked slightly younger, amusingly enough, with his clothes only a little bit baggier than normal. He didn’t find it as funny, apparently.

Soldier’s helmet now completely obscured his face, while his uniform sagged and lacked the precision it normally had. Demoman had been forced to remove his hat, as it was covering his eyes. His eyepatch had fallen off, but underneath was his perfectly fine, young eye.  His uniform more closely resembled an oversized onesie, as his flak jacket had completely fallen off.

Heavy did not appear to be very different; short of his youthful face, he was still intimidating and large, although possibly half his size. Sniper was still quite gangly, but much shorter.

The biggest change was Spy. His teeth were crooked, as he hadn’t had braces until later. He was also quite a bit thicker around the waist when compared to his skeletal adult form. He had ripped his finely tailored pants and had unbuttoned his jacket to preserve some of his dignity, covering his face in shame.

Medic read over the Respawn data a few more times. The system would reset and fix the error in twelve hours. He looked back up at them, then quietly took a step back and locked himself in his office. He would have none of this nonsense, even if the image of his eight comrades as children would be forever burned into his brain.

Sorry about the delay folks, my internet seems to be fixed now. Now I’m gonna finish up dem prompts :V

herrcolonel answered: Mediscout; Scout sets off all of Medic’s Geiger counters because of how much radioactive soda he drinks.


Medic was not one to panic unless there was good reason to panic. Even when he’d thought that the team had three days to live, he still kept a level head. Now, he was panicking.

It was Engineer that convinced him to check his Geiger counter. Engineer figured his was broken. Yet when Medic checked his own, he put the base on lockdown immediately. The levels of radioactivity on the base were catastrophic. It was frankly amazing that only the bread had tumors!

He needed to find the source immediately, and pray that it was only recent. Everything was contaminated, as far as he was concerned, but if they hadn’t been exposed long the damage wouldn’t be as severe. He hoped.

So he hopped into a hazmat suit and began to scope out the base, eyes on the Geiger counter and nothing else. He scoured every room and hall, determined to find the source. A paranoid part of him considered that their employer could have pumped the chemicals in, although he dismissed that as his own inner-Soldier of paranoid nonsense.

Finally, he found the source. Or at least, the highest readout by far. And it was coming from Scout’s room. Medic swallowed the lump in his throat and made his way in. Scout protested, then cracked a joke about how goofy Medic looked.

"Scout…you are radioactive."

Scout shrugged, finishing off his last can of Bonk!. Well, that was an exaggeration; it was his last can in the room. He needed to get more from the fridge. “Yeah, I mean, duh. You read the labels on this shit? Actually.” He grabbed an empty glass and unceremoniously pissed in it, then laughed to himself. “Here, man, check dis out.” He shut out the lights.

To Medic’s astonishment, the contents of the glass were glowing a bright green. Scout turned the lights back on and shrugged. “I mean seriously, doc, I thought you knew.”

Medic cleared his throat awkwardly. “Yes, well. We are not having sex again until I run some tests.”

flatstreet answered: Medic and Engie working together to try and create the ultimate medigun but fail to do so, quite miserably.


Testing. Testing is the first step in using new technology. You test it rigorously in the lab, and then begin field testing once you are certain nothing catastrophic will happen. Then, you can consider releasing it. These were basic rules to the scientific process of inventions.

Engineer and Medic somehow forgot that.

The plan had been simple: combine the healing factor of the Quick-Fix with the might of the Kritzkrieg. A super medigun unlike any other. One of the primary downsides to the Kritkrieg, after all, was the relative vulnerability of the Medic and his heal target. An invulnerability ubercharge drew from the same chemicals as a kritzkrieg ubercharge, so it was simply impossible to combine them.

But the Quick-Fix was ideal. So Engineer and Medic started writing up plans. Without testing the chemicals, they worked off of the assumption that Medic’s hypothesis was correct. For days they were tirelessly consumed by the effort of prototyping it.

They tested the charge rate, which was the ideal speed. The overheal was capped, just as the Quick-Fix was. Without pointing it at anybody, the ubercharge meter was successfully drained and Medic reported no change to his body while it was deployed on nothing.

So they stopped all testing and put it out on the field in battle. Medic had a clipboard strapped to his waist, ready to take notes after they successfully ubered. Demoman was eager, as the medigun in Medic’s hands looked exactly like a Kritzkrieg.

As soon as Medic deployed the charge, Demoman turned into a chicken. A bolt of RED lightning shot from his ubergear and proceeded to chain through all seventeen remaining mercenaries, regardless of team.

Seven hours later, two BLU chickens and two RED chickens were huddled around in the RED Engineer’s workshop, furiously squawking at each other as they tried to learn how to reverse the effects. The rest of their teams were still trying to fight.

fayescarlet answered: Your cute ficlets give me so many sketching ideas. How about SpyScout and adopting a stray cat Scout finds?



In the entire history of bad ideas from Scout, this one was not the worst. It was not a good idea by any stretch of the imagination, but it was at least not the worst. Spy pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to think of a way to explain to Scout what was wrong with this situation.

This situation being a scraggly looking cat that was purring quite loudly and rubbing against Spy’s legs, leaving fur and most certainly fleas on his finely tailored suit. Scout had the largest grin on his face.

"See! She likes you, Spy! It’s practically destiny or some shit." Scout had found the stray outside of his favorite chicken joint. No matter how fast he ran, the cat followed. Followed him all the way to the base, in fact. It looked like a mutt, if a cat could be called a mutt; just splotches and stripes and no distinct breed to be identified.

Spy lit a cigarette as he stared down at the despicable thing. Well, that was unfair; Scout was his lover, after all. Still, this was pushing it. A pet was responsibility. Most of the team had pets that they took out onto the battlefield. Spy had his snake, and Scout had his squirrel. So to bring a cat on base, when most of the team had prey, seemed like a terrible idea.

Well, Engineer has one, doesn’t he?

Spy sighed, loudly, then crouched down and stroked the cat’s back. “Alright, Scout. We can keep her.” He rose to his feet and watched Scout cheer, rolling his eyes. He couldn’t help but smile a little. “On one condition: if she eats one of Medic’s birds, she is your cat. I wash my hands of it if zhat happens.”

thisgirllovesherfandoms answered: Heavy/Scout fluff


Scout rarely indulged this childish urge. Sure, he loved chugging sodas and schoolhouse taunts and acting like a kid, but rarely did he go for the other side of kiddie-coin. Immaturity was fun when it made people mad. Get under their skin and you can beat ‘em in a fight.

Hey, this wasn’t half bad though. Heavy had rented out a little cottage for just the two of them over break. Scout’s ma was just relieved to have one of her delinquent kids out of her hair for a week. The team was happy that Heavy had “taken Scout off their hands”.

The fireplace was cozy. Scout used to think that was dumb, but he could totally see the appeal now. Heavy was leaning back in a massive reclining chair, his tiny glasses sitting just right on the bridge of his nose. He had a relaxed smile on his face as he flipped through the book.

It had to be a book for children; Heavy was not skilled enough with English yet to read a more challenging book with his usual confidence. Normally he would be mortified to read from a book of fables aimed at kids, but Scout had been excited.

Scout was nestled in his lap, curled against him so that his head rested on Heavy’s chest. His eyes were half-lidded while Heavy read one of the stories. Occasionally, his booming voice would jolt Scout awake, but never for more than a few minutes.

When Scout finally fell asleep, Heavy kissed him on the forehead and set his glasses down on the end table next to his chair. He watched the fire die down until his eyes drooped, and he too drifted off.

heavy x medic DO IT



Heavy had been puzzling over this particular conundrum for weeks now. Medic had a birthday coming up. That much he knew. The doctor was not a subtle man, and he’d been hinting at it much as one would politely ask the BLUs to go away with a spray of minigun bullets.

So Medic would be needing a present. And a good one, at that. Heavy was being given ample time to prepare. But what to get him? Rosin was an option, or higher quality strings. Heavy would get him that.

But Medic needs more than that, surely. Something for his birds? Bah, that was no good either. He was always buying things for the doves anyway. Something medically interesting, perhaps? He couldn’t decide what would be interesting to the doctor. And since no one else on base knew much about medicine, Heavy chose to ignore that idea. He couldn’t get Medic something like that without asking him directly, and that would spoil the surprise.

So, that left him with something fancier than strings. He just didn’t know what. There had been no time for fancy things while he’d been at university. He’d been too focused on his literature to care about that.


Heavy had an idea.

It took him months to get the words right, and it took considerable intimidation to get Spy to proof read everything for grammatical consistency. German was quite a bit different from Russian. Even then, Heavy used an English-to-German dictionary to check his work once Spy cleared it; he didn’t want Spy to slip in something embarrassing.

When he finally delivered Medic’s present, it was in the form of his favorite violin, fitted with strings that he’d asked Spy to custom order for him, with a new bow and broken-in rosin. Tucked between the strings was a beautifully crafted story, detailing five firsts. Their first meeting, their first fight, their first ubercharge, their first kiss, and their first anniversary.

Medic almost broke his violin from how quickly he moved to hug the Russian. If Heavy were any smaller, he was certain that the doctor would have crushed him.

No words were exchanged. They didn’t need to be. Heavy looked into Medic’s eyes, and he could hear it ringing in his ears.

"I love you, Heavy."