#one in particular was going to be about Pyro working alongside engineer in his workshop

[immunetoneurotoxin]

Just wanna drip by and say Incendiary has made itself a permanent resident in my brain.

Your writing is absolutely amazing, every scene got me gripping my seat in excitement. Seeing someone write a Pyro-focused long fic, let alone texas toast is so so so rare, I think I've only read 3 (including incendiary) that I've liked so far.

I love this little fire guy with all my heart, and I absolutely adore how you didn't make him too much like a child like how many mischaracterize him. There's the childlike wonder in him but he is capable when push comes to shove and I like that a lot! Every single characterizations in this fic is wonderful, I would love to give Engie a little kiss on his bald head.. he's so adorable.

I'm probably rambling but I just love this fic so much. I'm dealing with semester's midterms, stressed as all hell and this fic has been keeping me going. I practically cheered when I saw chapter 10 update in my inbox lmao. I would love to maybe make some fanart when I have the time, should I just tag you on this site?

Thank you so much for writing Incendiary dude, no kidding when I say it changed my life. I can't wait for the story to unfold! Please take care of yourself and rest well. Good luck on the job hunting as well!!

Omg stranger whoever you are, I just about teared up seeing this in my Inbox -

This is the most grandest, heartfelt comment I think I've ever received in my entire writing career and my heart is GUSHING rn!!!! I was literally out running errands when I saw this and I couldn't stop thinking about it -

When I joined the TF2 fandom in like... oh god, 2014 I think, I was really shocked to see throughout the years that there weren't many Pyro-centered stories out there, which blew my mind. Like how could there not be a deluge of fanfic for Pyro, who is this extremely mysterious, multi-faceted character with so much room for interpretation?! When I first watched Meet the Pyro, I KNEW I had to write a novel about Pyro. Who they are, where they came from, and what happened to them before the events of the gravel war. Massively inspired, of course. But still nonetheless, an origin story that could very well be canon if squinted at, hehe.

This rings true for texas toast content, too!! There isn't a whole lot of it out there and it makes me so sad - I love their dynamic so much! When Incendiary is finished, I do plan on writing some more texas toast oneshots on my AO3 to fill that void. <3 One of the plans is to write a short story about their relationship during the gravel wars as well, that takes place after the events of Incendiary. (plus, Incendiary has only just started to crack the surface tension of the slow burn, and it's only a matter of 1-2 chapters away from when the texas toast really starts showing through so there is that to look forward too as well. (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ ))

also I literally hollered when I read your comment about Pyro's characterization in this story especially, because THAT is THE ONE THING I have been working so incredibly hard towards holy shit - when I tell you the amount of stories I've read that writes them off as this danger-child that needs supervision - which don't get me wrong is not an entirely bad thing!! they do have this massive childlike side to them, but there is also so much more to them than how the fandom perceives them, not taking into much consideration how they typically canonically act in the comics/in-game, and taking into LARGE consideration Meet the Pyro. I was reeling when I realized that a lot of people seemed to completely forget about that interview. I could go on a whole rant about this sdfghjkl but yes, Pyro is definitely more than capable when push comes to shove! they are in a war, after all ;)

and engineer, oh man. I love that soft Texan so much. :') I could talk your ear off about him too!

man I am definitely rambling now, but I literally cannot even express how genuinely happy I am receiving this message, it means the actual world to me. and FANART?!?! oh my god YES - you can definitely tag me here if you do make fanart for Incendiary!! I would be BEYOND honored omg

Thank you so so much for brightening my entire year with this feedback literally - I'm so honored to have you here as a reader and a fan. <3 And I'm sending you all of the luck with your midterms!! You've got this!!

#also little fun fact about this story #It never actually started off as the novel I intended to write about pyro GASP #It was meant to be a bunch of texas toast oneshots #one in particular was going to be about Pyro working alongside engineer in his workshop #and how they created their own flamethrower that they canonically use in-game #but when I started expanding the plot around that #well that quickly spiraled out of control lol #and just very briefly on the topic of characterizations I will say #roswell is by far my favorite villain I've written #I took a lot of inspiration from strickland from the movie 'the shape of water' #that guy has got INTIMIDATION tactic on lock #chapter 12 will delve more in depth about director Roswell as a person and his goals and intentions and reasonings and all of that #and so you'll see why he does the things he does soon enough :) #also tysm again for dropping this comment I will literally gush over this for WEEKS

[thetriggeredhappy]

second commission is done! this one is really stretching the definition of hurt/comfort, but i had fun with it. engineer/scout ft scout being just a little guy just a little birthday boy you wouldnt hit a birthday boy--

warnings for mild violence, alcohol mention, and super mild punching bag scout behavior

-

Dell didn’t consider himself to be a particularly greedy man. Quite the opposite, he figured he was rather humble, rather generous with his time and energy. Too generous, maybe, if he was really taking after his father and grandfather as much as his mother had always claimed–although he liked to think he was a touch more polite, more sociable. Less prone to outbursts (although keeping his temper in check tended to prove itself a laborious task).

It was just that sometimes, he wished the rest of the team would commit a bit more of their own time and energy to holding things together. Wished it didn’t always have to be him keeping everyone in check. Wished he didn’t spend practically dawn to dusk moving between the work related to his job and the work keeping these men from turning their base, already pretty mediocre, into a holes-punched-in-plaster, kitchen-caked-in-ash, bruised-egos-and-awful-attitudes pig sty.

He’d give credit where it was due. Medic, while standoffish when pulled from his work to tolerate the team’s whining about minor afflictions, especially off-hours, did always help them with any ailments, physically and occasionally with acting as an ear to weigh in on more serious work-related spats. He was an excellent mediator in that nobody on the team particularly wanted to get on his bad side. Heavy tended to work as the primary mediator in the numerous, daily arguments of the team, physically separating whoever wanted to cause such a ruckus and giving stern words and a look of deep disappointment at anyone acting out of line and a quiet solidarity alongside who was wronged.

And they all did their work, of course. Demo in particular tended to go overboard when it came to projects outside of what they originally signed up for, and Soldier helped with keeping them on top of a schedule, on top of keeping the base clean and everyone in some degree of shape and physical health (ready to lecture his way sunrise to sunset at anyone who dared talk back about it). Pyro assisted with that from a bit more of a good cop position on things, and all of the other mercenaries were on some kind of rotation because of it, either with cooking or cleaning or errands or some mixture of them based on what they were good at, and they stayed afloat.

But some of them, he just couldn’t seem to figure out what they seemed to be doing around here, and it made him a little upset sometimes.

Spy, he’d give benefit of the doubt, when he wasn’t being a menace to the lot of them. It was possible he did important things for the team, and that the Engineer just didn’t have security clearance for it. Sniper at least had the decency to go for a hard disconnect–he barely lived with any of them, he didn’t contribute to the messes and the fights and the general chaos of it all and really shouldn’t have to clean up after everyone when you thought about it, cleaned up after himself, and even had the decency to offer to cook or do errands into town for the rest of them on occasion.

But not all of them he could give benefit of the doubt to.

Instead of a knock at the door to his workshop-slash-the-garage, it sounded like a hard series of kicks, rattling through the room loudly enough to make him jump. He set down his pliers, swearing at how he’d flinched and yanked half a dozen wires out of place, and glared towards the door. “What?” he snapped, deeply unentertained.

“Sweet, you’re in here,” Scout said as he pulled open the door, self-satisfied smirk on his face. “Food’s ready. C’mon.”

The Engineer scrubbed a hand down his own face, sighing hard.

And… alright. Scout was nice, sure. Pleasant enough to be around. After the team had started getting along a bit better, after they’d gotten out of the physical fistfights near-daily, all of them had settled into being at least tolerable, and Scout was one of the nicer mercenaries. He’d spend the entire time in the locker room after a good day of battle congratulating everyone on the cooler stunts he’d seen them pull that day, mixing in his own stories for flavor, exaggerating it all wildly until the room was laughing in an uproar.

But being funny didn’t give him an excuse to be so goddamn irritating all the time.

“Scout,” he said, voice simmered down into something more patient than his grandfather had maybe ever managed in his life, which he counted as a victory considering how much he wanted to strangle the man just then. Scout tilted his head, still grinning. “I’m fairly sure I said I wasn’t going to dinner today. Only about half a dozen times. I’m eating in here since this project’s gonna be taking me so long, and I said none of y’all should wait up.”

“Yeah, gonna eat in here, huh? You and what fridge?” Scout joked, glancing around. “Pretty sure you’ve just got those weird gross craft beers in yours. C’mon, you’re gonna starve to death on us, pal. Get your ass to dinner.”

“Wait, wait,” the Engineer said, mentally rewinding through what Scout just said. “Craft beers? How’d you know about those? I don’t seem to remember sharing ‘em with anyone.”

A few beats of silence where Scout’s grin faltered, fell, and was replaced by a more sheepish one.

“You’ve been rifling through my workshop,” he said, not a question.

“Aw, what? Me?” Scout said, badly faking looking affronted. “The very accusation–”

“You called them gross, you drank my craft beers!” he accused next, a second realization setting in.

Scout went for an offended gasp, but couldn’t seem to hold it, breaking into a snicker before he could catch himself. The Engineer seethed.

“Don’t go in my workshop. Ever,” he said, agitation rapidly rising. “I think I made that real clear to all of you. Don’t interrupt me while I’m working, don’t trespass and don’t steal. Is that too hard to understand?”

“Don’t steal?” Scout repeated, voice neutral.

“Obviously.”

A pause. Scout glanced around the room, then up and to the right of the door at the wall.

“...Scout,” he warned.

Scout took a step forward to where a number of tools were up in their place on the pegs in the wall, looking them over, then looked back at the Engineer again, grinning once more.

“Don’t you goddamn dare.”

Scout scooped up a power drill lightning-quick and bolted out the door.

He was so angry that it was a good minute and thirty seconds into chasing Scout down, a screwdriver held like a knife in his hand, that he realized there was absolutely no way in hell that he was catching him, the other man’s laughter echoing further and further away into the labyrinthine halls of the shoddily-made base. He found himself slowing to a panting, heaving stop, and took a minute to call a few particularly paint-peelingly harsh words out to him before beginning to stomp his way back towards his workshop.

“Aye!” he heard called from one side, and glanced into the adjacent room where the team was sat around the table, eating dinner. Demo had called out, looking pleased. “Good, Scout found you! Plate’s getting cold here, Toymaker, take a seat!”

Grumbling the whole way, he did, knowing he was already broken from his concentration, he might as well.

He’d actually calmed down quite a bit once he’d eaten, more hungry than he’d realized, only to get right back into being pissed off again when he finally returned to his workshop and saw the power drill back in his workshop, but not put back up on the wall properly.

“Goddamn blight on society,” he lectured at medium volume the next day before battle, that being the next time he saw Scout. Scout just laughed.

“You would rather nearly get your head detached than simply return? Or perhaps just bring the man a plate of food?” Spy drawled from one side. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say you simply enjoy prodding at people.”

“Aw, c’mon, you serious?” Scout laughed, tinted with confusion now. “I wouldn’t say that, I mean–”

“I’d have to agree lad,” Demo chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “It’s a talent of yours. Always nearly getting in a fight, aye? Maybe we should get you a hobby.”

“It would certainly explain the number of Medbay visits,” Medic huffed. “Herr Scout, have you considered perhaps reading books rather than prodding at everyone on the team?”

“I imagine part of the problem is that he doesn’t know how,” Spy drawled, and a laugh went up through the room. Scout joined with it at least a bit, although his face was red, and his punch aimed at Spy’s shoulder was a lot less energetic than it might’ve otherwise been.

“Maybe get the man a few extra shifts on the chore rotation,” the Engineer suggested, grinning now, “not like he’s busy with anything else. Might help with contributing something to this team for once.”

“Alright, alright,” Scout cut in over an ‘oooh’ from the room. “Big words comin’ from the guy who sits in one place with his weird little robots all day. I don’t see anyone else cappin’ points like I do, alright?”

“At least I do it quietly,” the Engineer jabbed, and felt a burst of self-satisfaction at the way Scout flinched at it a bit, at the second ‘oooh’ from the room. “And, hell, at least I spend my off hours doing something useful, not being completely damn annoying.”

Another reaction from the room, some entertained and others mostly surprised. Scout’s face was bright red, migrating up towards his ears. The Engineer was surprised to see Heavy step forward, looking stern, to stand between them, clearly anticipating some kind of outburst from one or both of them, but it didn’t happen. Instead, he watched, now doubly surprised, as Scout scoffed and turned to leave the room, walking into Resupply with a mumbled “Whatever, man.”

A laugh from the room and Scout’s much quieter attitude that day during battle, cleaning up and leaving the locker room faster than anyone, were what the Engineer figured were going to be the end of it. For that reason, he didn’t expect to be stopped by Heavy in the hall of the base on his way to his workshop.

“Engineer needs to apologize to Little Scout,” Heavy said, a bit stern.

He frowned. Shifted the box of materials and scrap he was holding. “Apologize?” he repeated. “What, for this morning? He’ll get over it, surely.”

Heavy shook his head. “Is not just that. Little Scout is very, very important to team,” he said, tone entirely serious. “Engineer is important also, in different ways. Engineer fixes problems with walls and plumbing and power supply. Little Scout fixes other things also. The not physical things.”

“The hell he does,” he scoffed. “All he does is run around pestering everybody and pretending he hasn’t done anything wrong.”

Heavy shook his head again, looking almost disappointed. “Maybe Little Engineer has not been paying attention,” Heavy said, and gave him a pat on the shoulder before wandering back away again.

“Leave it to the Russian man to be cryptic,” he mumbled, continuing on his way to his workshop.

He was sure Heavy was wrong. What was the point of Scout’s acting the way he did all the time? It was nice, of course, being on the receiving end of Scout’s enthusiasm, but it wasn’t necessary. Surely by now everyone knew they were doing a good job, what was the point of Scout telling them so? And it felt like he started fights near daily, the most aggressive members of the team near-constantly having some reason to punch him in the nose.

That train of thought ran along its circular track for quite a while, and he couldn’t help but keep an eye out, trying to figure out what the hell Heavy meant. Watching Scout, trying to figure out if there was anything going on behind that bluster, behind that fanfare.

“Hey, there he is!” he heard Scout herald one day before battle over the din of the rest of the team clattering around and chatting, and turned to look at him, then who he was looking at. Apparently it was Sniper, sat on one of the benches by the lockers, hunched over and quiet and brooding like he always was. Sniper had tilted his head up to look at Scout, clearly a little startled as the man approached him. “Captain of bullet-type decapitation himself, what’s up, man?”

Sniper’s reply was mumbled, and reedy besides, so much so that Scout bundled out a “huhwhat’dyousay?” in that lightning-quick way of his, and Scout laughed at whatever it was the second time.

“Man, one’a those, huh?” he said, still a little too sunshiny for the Engineer’s taste. “Yeah, nah, I feel you. Yo, where’s your coffee, man? Isn’t that your usual shit to make you feel less shit?”

Another mumbled answer. Scout blew out air through his cheeks. Sniper shrugged, mumbled something again.

“No, yeah, that sucks,” Scout agreed. “Hey, I think our coffee machine is workin’, though, I can go, like, grab you somethin’ if you want. You like, uh–what, you a black coffee kinda guy?”

A shrug from Sniper, some gesture of dissuasion.

“Nah, nah, you’re gettin’ coffee from me, bud, what kind you want?” Scout insisted, leaving no room for argument. “I was gonna go grab somethin’ to snack on anyways, don’t be a bitch.”

Sniper scratched at the back of his neck, mumbled something, and after a series of affirmations and light, friendly slaps and punches to the shoulder, Scout was off like a rocket.

A few days later, working his way through the stack of dishes, was when he heard something happen again. A few of the team–the Attack and remainder of the Defense team–were all talking about what to do that weekend.

“Drinking night, mate, bars, why not?” Demo suggested.

“Cyclops, you literally went to a bar yesterday,” Scout pointed out.

“Also are going tonight with Soldier, yes?” Heavy rumbled.

“Teambuilding is most effectively reinforced when repeated!” Soldier barked.

“It’ll be fun, mate. You want along?” Demo asked, presumably to Scout, because he made a vague noise at it.

“Uhhh, I think I’ll pass,” Scout said carefully, and paused. “Hey, uh, how about instead I show you guys this one, uh, board game thing. Youse know Monopoly, right?”

A cheer from Pyro, and confused noises from the rest of them. “Monopoly?” Heavy repeated.

“Yeah, it’s this game, it’s, it’s American, it’s like a cornerstone of pop culture, you’ve gotta play it! It rules!” Scout agreed.

Soldier hummed. “The rules are very complicated,” he mused.

“I mean, I can start showin’ you guys real quick right now, if you want. Mumbles, Monopoly rules, right? Hey, you be the banker–”

He walked into the rec room again near midnight and found them hunched over the board still, hours and hours later. It was when he pointed out the lateness of the hour to them that they finally sighed, all giving up, and deciding to just finish the game the next day.

Admittedly, it took the Engineer about two days to realize what Scout had done, intentionally or otherwise.

The last time was the one that made it all click for him.

Lunchtime on a Sunday, most of the team milling about in the rec room, some eating and some relaxing and some at the table laying out some new strategies they wanted to use in battle. The Engineer was mostly just listening in as the Attack team threw out ideas, some joking and some not, with Soldier’s always being said with a sincerity that meant it was honestly hard to tell.

“Hey, Spy,” Scout called at one point as Spy walked by the table. Spy arched an eyebrow at him, entirely unimpressed. “If Mumbles lit themselves up like July 4th and ran in fists swingin’ they’d probably take down like, at least two guys before it got through the flame suit, right?”

“If you had paid attention in school and not spent your time in high school robbing convenience stores, do you think I would be standing here listening to stupid hypothetical questions right now?” Spy asked in the same tone.

“Okay, so first of all, Jesus,” Scout muttered, looking a little put out.

“Let me guess, did Monsieur Patriotism come up with that one?” Spy drawled, now leveling that tone of disdain directly at Soldier.

“Of course!” Soldier replied, not noticing the tone or not caring. “It is a bold strategy!”

“It’d be funny! It’d scare the shit outta them!” Scout said, chuckling.

“Ugh. You Americans. Leave it to the local militant reject to come up with something so ridiculous,” Spy scoffed, glaring at him.

“Woah, Jesus, Spy,” Scout started to say, and was interrupted by Soldier.

“Leave it to the Frenchman to not be able to tell the difference between a battle strategy from a tin can!” Soldier prodded right back, and apparently he had noticed the tone.

“Ah. My being French is relevant?” Spy said coolly.

“Unless you’re a backstabbing coward for some other reason!” Soldier said.

“Woah,” the Engineer tried to cut in, at the same time as Scout, who said “Solly, dude, holy shit, wind it in, man. That’s–”

“A coward? For taking more than three consecutive seconds to consider how I should behave in a warzone? And in this situation, hiding under a helmet isn’t cowardice, it’s bravery, then? Patriotism? The logic of a dishonorable discharge, I can only assume.”

The argument was starting to draw attention. Pyro’s hands were over their mouth, and the Engineer was reeling. Scout tried again, louder now. “Okay, you guys really gotta calm down–uh, hey, Heavy–?”

“Coming from a man too afraid to join in the first place!” Soldier cut in, voice naturally much louder, and at some point, he stood up, not quiet towering over Spy, but certainly still very intimidating, not budging in the slightest at Scout and Pyro trying to push him back towards sitting again. “What kind of man gets employed to fight and can only fight when invisible and in a disguise, and can’t even do that right! I’ve never seen you blend in with the other team for more than a minute, Private! What kind of sorry excuse for a mercenary are you!? If you don’t fight for honor, what do you fight for!?”

“Hey!” Scout cut in, suddenly stepping between the two of them, facing Soldier. “Fighting with honor, huh? That why we gotta light one of our own guys on fire to try to scare ‘em?”

The rhythm of the argument was completely broken. “Excuse me, Cadet?” Soldier asked, voice low and threatening.

“You suggested it!” Scout said, pointing a finger right in Soldier’s face, then flicking on his helmet and sending it spinning. “What, so when Spy does his thing, he’s a bitch, but when you gotta pull intimidation tactics instead’a fighting like a man, it’s okay? Ha! What a joke, man! It’s not even a good idea anyways. At least do it to yourself then instead’a dragging someone else to do your dirty work, you fuckin’ pussy.”

The sound of the table rattling as it was nearly knocked over drowned out the sound of Scout’s yelp as he was slammed into it by Soldier, who roared in anger at such a direct challenge. It took Pyro, Demo, and the Engineer both pulling hard to get Soldier off of him, and Pyro and Demo continuing to restrain him to get Scout out of the line of sight. The Engineer was tasked with getting him to the Medbay, as Scout was pretty sure he’d broken something in one of his feet when Soldier had unintentionally stomped on it with those steel-toe boots of his.

“Thanks, man,” Scout chirped, knocking him on the arm with the hand not slung over his shoulder for balance. “I appreciate it.”

“Why’d you go and do somethin’ so damn stupid?” the Engineer chided.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, classic Scout, getting in fights,” Scout laughed, pantomiming punching himself in the head with a grin lopsided from swelling. “Hey, at least we got the Doc around, so it’s not so bad that I’m real stupid sometimes.”

The Engineer huffed the start of a laugh. “Sure you are,” he mumbled, dripping with sarcasm.

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Scout asked, seeming confused. Very, very convincingly so.

“Am I supposed to believe that you conveniently decided you had an opinion on the spat the second it got real ugly?” the Engineer asked. Scout glanced off to one side. “I knew it. You do do it on purpose!”

A little laugh from Scout, a scrub at the back of his own neck. “Heh. Yeah, you got me,” he admitted.

“Why do you do it?” the Engineer asked.

“Just somethin’ I picked up back home, I guess. Whenever a bunch of fuckin’ meatheads show up to the sausagefest and spend a lot of time in fights, people get antsy, and, uh–what’d you call it? And, uh, spats happen, right? And, uh, whenever I wasn’t around for them to get that energy out on, just kinda pickin’ on me and makin’ jokes and stuff, it got ugly. And it kinda gets worse here–don’t really got Ma around to shout high heaven if I end up with a black eye or whatever when I jump in the middle and make myself the new, fun target–but the uh, the redirecting, it means pretty much everyone gets it outta their system and we don’t gotta be at each other’s throats all the time.” He seemed to catch the Engineer’s look. “And it don’t bother me, seriously. It’s kinda funny, seeing you guys with, like, steam outta the ears like a cartoon. I piss ‘em off, I cheer ‘em up. Best of both worlds. And I bounce back real quick, anyways. One of my many talents.”

“Huh.” Engineer paused. “Clever, ain’tcha?”

“Ha, yeah, Heavy’s on to me too, figured it out like the second time I did it,” Scout laughed. “Probably super, uh… super annoying.”

He heard it there in his voice just then, a genuine kind of hurt. He cursed inwardly.

“You’re not annoying,” the Engineer said, tone serious. Scout glanced at him, eyes a little wide. “You’re frustrating, sometimes, but only because you wanna be, it seems. But not… but not annoying.” He swallowed his pride, for just a moment. “And I’m sorry I ever said so. I was wrong. You’re important to this team. To all of us.”

Grin more lopsided than before as his cheek swelled further, the appearance of a dimple there, alongside his freckles. “Thanks, Hardhat,” he said quietly, and clearly meant it.

#engiescout #engineer/scout #shut up me #my fanfiction #scout pissing people off for fun is a characterization i love for him. spy but opposite