#The Teufort Nine

[write-behind-you]

"Quite interesting to see the newer recruits in their newer uniforms." The Medic grinned a little bit though the lower half of his face was obscured, it was just mostly seen in his eyes.

Spy raised an eyebrow at this apparent newcomer. He didn't like when people had their face covered. "Yes? And who might you be?"

#Gentlemen. #The Teufort Nine

[candygrahm]

random 1 am thoughts:

TF2 is the fandom I’ve been a part of the longest, and House of Ashes is my all time favourite. I was scrolling through all of my liked videos on YT and it got to the TF2 section and I’m just like...

What would happen if the Mercs ended up facing the vampires?

Medic would probably be overjoyed at the discovery, completely intrigued by the beings. 

Heavy wrestles bears so what is little vampire to him. 

Pyro would adore them but considering they’re all about fire, I think the vampires would run from them the most. :’) 

Scout.. the sun might not shine down here, but brudda, come near me and you’re in for a world of pain. Can outrun them for sure.

Sniper.. they would probably be the least dangerous animal he’s seen. Would probably try to wrangle one. 

Spy ain’t havin’ any of it. But he would be the best at hiding from them. 

Engineer would be ALL over their ship and the Star Chamber. Alien tech? Sign him TF up!

Soldier would end up in a screaming match with them. And fight one. Maybe two.

And Demo.. did someone spike his scrumpy? How tf did they end up here? Probably the most unphased. He’s fought his own eyeball from his haunted eye socket. Don’t make him bring out the Eyelander. 

#Grahm's words #headcanon #TF2 #team fortress 2 #House of ashes #the dark pictures house of ashes #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #tf2 sniper #tf2 pyro #tf2 scout #tf2 demoman #tf2 engineer #tf2 spy #tf2 soldier #teufort nine

[putting-caine-in-places]

send that bitch to teufort

He’s recruiting nine more (possibly) humans Into the circus (He got shot, blown up, dissected, stabbed, and set on fire. Affectionately, of course)

#tadc #caine #the amazing digital circus #tadc caine #Tf2 #team fortress 2 #teufort

[sardonic-the-writer]

incomplete lore below [art by me!]

• tracker class

• tenth class

• specalizes in hunting down animals, people, objects, etc

• main weapons consist of snares and bear traps scattered around the map, but for close quarters combat a drop point blade is used. pistol if needed, but rarely

• on the battle field, they wear any sort of material that will help camafloge them. mostly a jacket that sort of works like spy's cloaking device but much weaker

• under the jacket and outside the field, they wear pants with many many pockets for any spare gear needed for traps, and a zip up jacket always left half open

• autistic. so so very autistic. undiagnosed however due to the time period, and just considered mentally ill. it's part of the reason the only job he could get was as a merc

• also trans. wears medical tape around his chest since binders don't exist; no top surgery yet. it's the 60's/70's and he isn't exactly keen to out himself surrounded by nine other paid killers. sometimes he finds himself wondering if medic would perform top surgery

• main friend is scout. ADHD/autism friends

• also gets along well with sniper. Both of them have tendencies to stay away from the explosions and stabbing down on the battle field, instead opting for their own little spots to do their jobs. they bond over that

• spy doesn't nessicarily hate them. which is a big thing, considering the fact that he hates everyone he works with

• borders between social and completely quiet. fluctuates depending on who they're with and how they're doing that day. i.e, always their best self with scout, very stoic when it comes to fighting

• has a record player. wouldn't sign the merc contract without a promise of one. had to buy their own records, though

• fond of miss pauling & her brief visits. has no idea if the sentiment is returned, but they don't really mind either way

• spy isn't allowed around them when they're drunk. tracker is not a very secretive or tidy drunk, so he'll just peel back layers of information from them until someone stops him. he did it a lot when they first joined the team, rude and sour as always, but eventually relented at the angry protests of scout

• scout calls them trackie for short. They pretend they hate it but it really just makes them smile to themself

• was in veitnam—has dogtags they hide under their shirt collar unless they forget. sometimes when they're feeling the reels of 'shell shock', they'll confide in scout since he went through the same experience

• night terrors.

• they wake up doused in sweat; throat raw.

• listens to a lot of fleetwood mac and queen. really whatever they can get their hands on though. Records are hard to come by in teufort so they can't be picky

• grew up in the south. it carries over into some of their daily mannerisms. not as much as engie, who's just full texan, but they have a strong love for sweet tea and bonfires. will occasionally make the former if they're feeling especially homesick, but that doesn't happen much

• absolutely chows down on sandwhichs with heavy

• has an obsession with chewing and blowing bubblegum. can't do it on the battlefield anymore though (they choked on it once and got sent to respawn. the following week and a half was filled with the worst heckling of his life)

• loves medics doves an insane amount. might be a little cautious of the ex-doctor himself, but they'll risk an impromtu operation just to hold archemedes for a few hours

• works with spy a lot. they're the only person that can even somewhat find out where he is or where he went. if it's the enemy spy, tracker will hunt them down or set traps to trip them up and send them to respawn. if it's their own teams spy, more often than not, the two will be paired up for missions together stealing the breifcase

• much like sniper, tracker gets sent on a lot of solo missions outside the gravel pit. tracking down targets and sending their coordinates to a hit man, or just killing them themself

• durring Expiration Date, tracker definitely takes the threat of dying more serious than the rest of the mercs

• wrote down an actual death wish to put in the bucket, but ultimately kept it to themself. and durring the next few days, they write letters to each of the mercs to give out on the last day before they die—but shred & burn all of them to pieces after finding out no ones going to die

• convinces himself that there's a time and place for heart-felt words, and it's definitely not anytime soon

• similarly to that, durring Meet The Tracker (the video is just entirely centered around him preparing for and doing their job), he doesn't talk much. just sets up traps and watches as people fall into or gets tangled in them

• does occasionally leave a comment

• "ooh, that's gonna hurt in the morning."

• "betcha he's gonna watch where he steps next time."

• "trapping never gets any easier. it''s like making a nice molotov cocktail. you gotta get it right every step of the way, or it ends up a burning pile of shit. i love it."

• the only shot we get of tracker doing anything outside the field is the ending shot

• it's dark as he lays with his back to the oak of a tree, a BLU corpse hanging upside down by rope, courtesy of a trap as they look up at the stars fondly

• it's fucked but so is everyone else

• not a good cook. i repeat, not a good cook

• knows how to pour cereal and maybe how to scramble eggs. but that's a hard maybe

• when it's his turn to cook dinner for everyone (since they all take turns doing their part) most of the time it ends up being one of the more disappointing meals. they try their best, and as time goes on they get better at cooking, but for the meantime only pyro is happy about the burnt eggs

• does not like to be touched. the most they can handle is the occasional ruffling of his hair, and even that can sometimes set him off

• overtime they get more and more comfortable with the mercs and some slight touches— smacks on the back, accidental skin on skin contact when handing things to each other, etc

• but on the rare occasion it all gets too much, tracker will blow up. and it's not pretty in the slightest

• the first time someone saw him completely lose it was spy

• it was on the battlefield. an enemy scout had found their hiding spot in a bush as he avoided their trap, and pushed them out of it, gaining the upper hand

• spy wasn't about to intervene in the first place. the newbie had to learn how to fend for himself

• his mild annoyance turned to surprise as he watched tracker lash out in fury, his spare hunting knife carving right through the BLU scout's chest cavity like it was hot butter

• even while invisible, and standing many meters away, spy could hear the heaving of their chest

• "bastard." came a frown from tracker, and a grim smile crossed spy's face as he watched them spit at the feet of the bloody corpse

• he hadn't told anyone about it, filing the information away in his brain for later

• he only let tracker know he saw them later—after they had blown up a second time. this time in front of the whole team

• no one died that time, but the communal showers were left in disastrous conditions for weeks

• he makes sniper drive him to town a lot for supply/grocery runs since the australian is one of the few who can drive (along with heavy, spy, & engie)

• tracker might also, just possibly, enjoy spending one on one time with sniper

• reverts back to more of an awkward state around him. doesn't really know how to read people all that well, and wants to actually form a bond with him

• "want anything from town while I'm in?" they asked, resisting the urge to set their feet on the campers dashboard

• "nah. but thanks, roo." sniper responded without looking up from the road

• tracker has no idea what 'roo' means, but figures it's good & sits back with a barely there smile

• when it comes to lil pootis, tracker is a prominent figure in the birds life

• will babysit him a lot; even if scout didn't ask them too originally

• gets uncharacteristically soft around pootis. especially when no one's around

• pyro saw the both of them passed out in tracker's room once with pootis curled on the mercs chest. they squealed & proceeded to drag the entire team into his doorway to see

• he woke up when pootis began to stir at all the noise

• never lived the infamous lil pootis incident down (everyone else thought it was amusing/sweet. he, in fact, did not)

• besides that embarrassing moment, tracker likes pootis a lot. keeps all the drawings he makes for them in a shoe box in his closet—right next to the drawings that pyro and scout have also given him

• pootis drew a piece of tracker & scout holding hands once with hearts around their heads

• tracker was quick to snatch it out of the eyes of the public with a poker face

• keeps it under his bed. looks at it sometimes and fiddles with his dogtags when his day's been bad

#gore #tw gore #tw war #tw violence #tags as a precaution #tracker #tracker class #tenth class oc #tf2 #tf2 sona #sona shenanigans #sardonic rambles

[tf2heritageposts]

i hear they're gonna be hanging the teufort nine after the trial today, i can't wait

#not a heritage post #unreality #made this post to show people the changing date function of tumblr lol

[squible034]

I've Changed Career Paths (Tf2 reader-insert story)

      Let’s get one thing straight, you’re not a people person. The only reason you talk to your employers is to get your assignment or a paycheck, that’s it. No more, no less. So, when a woman named Miss. Pauling wanted to set up a meeting to talk about a job opportunity, you were less than pleased to find out she wanted to meet face-to-face. After reluctantly agreeing to meet at a greasy diner in Teufort, New Mexico you were surprised to find out that she didn’t want you to track down and kill a person but join a team of mercenaries that are fighting over land that was in the middle of nowhere. 

   You rubbed a hand over your face, as you let the information sink in. You can’t make this shit up.

   “Okay, let me get this straight. You want to hire me, a mercenary that has always worked alone and who prefers it, to fight with nine other people over land that two rich fuckers can’t seem to split. Am I reading this correctly?”

   Miss. Pauling gave you a nervous smile. “Uh.. in essence.. yes. That is my proposal.”

   I let out a soft sigh as I dipped a few fries in ketchup. “Look, Miss. Pauling, it’s a good deal but that’s not what I do. I’m a tracker. I find people and kill them for a living. I’m in crippling financial debt and am one late payment from losing my apartment. Unless you can promise me a stable income or a place to sleep I don’t think I could take the deal. I’m sorry.”

   Miss. Pauling quickly cuts in.

   “If you would read over the contract you would see that we’d plan to move you to the RED base, where you would work and reside with your coworkers. As for money, every time you’d complete a contract we would pay you depending on the size and severity of said contract.”

   Miss. Pauling pushes a small stack of papers in your direction. You looked at her and then at the papers. You wiped the excess salt from your fingers on your shirt. You picked up the papers and quickly skimmed through everything. Eyes darting from one paragraph to another; barely taking anything in until you made it to the final page. At the bottom of the page was a large dotted line for your signature.

   With a sigh, you held a hand out for a pen. “Alright Pauling, you have yourself a deal.”

   Miss. Pauling looks through her purse before pulling out a simple black ink, ballpoint pen. She placed it in your opened hand.

   “Fantastic! Thank you for agreeing to our terms. The contract will become active as soon as you sign it.”

   “Don’t mention it…” You said, not really paying attention as you quickly scribble down your signature. “Just give me the location and I’ll get my stuff and move right in.” 

   Miss. Pauling nods. “Certainly. The location will be delivered to you via our encrypted communication channels. We’ll also contact the other mercenaries and let them know of your arrival. Your room will be prepared and you’ll be given time to pack your things and move in. Welcome to RED!”

   You let out a soft, tired groan. Miss. Pauling takes the now signed contract and carefully places it inside a vanilla folder with “TOPIC SECRET” printed on the front. She places the folder inside a binder, closes it, and pays the bill before leaving you alone.

   You sat in the booth for a while longer thinking of a game plan. You rub your face, trying to calm down. You weren’t scared, just anxious? Annoyed maybe? You weren’t sure what you were feeling but you could figure that out later. You leave the booth and walk out to your 1965 Ford Econoline van. You stole it from a person you killed. It was janky but worked well for the long drives you went on.

   You got into the driver's seat and rested your head on the steering wheel and let out a long groan. What did you get yourself into? It doesn't matter now, fuck- this was going to be a long week.

—————————————————————————————————————————————————

   The week went by slower than you liked. You canceled the lease on your apartment and since you didn’t give your landlord any time to prepare you had to pay a fine adding a new bruise to your already dead wallet. You had to pack up your belongings all by yourself and find a storage facility in Teufort that was both reliable and affordable to store your now unneeded furniture and items. You then had to drive everything from your original home to Teufort and had to hire people to drive it to Teufort; which your wallet did not like. Altogether, a long and rough week. Miss. Pauling had sent you the destination of the Red base and your “uniform” and had asked you to come to the base wearing it. When you tried it on you were surprised that it was exactly your fit then again, these people have probably been stalking you for a while. You were also given the names of the men you’d be working with; or their titles. Apparently, they address each other by their job titles. Yours would uncreatively be called “Tracker”.

   As you drove up to the base your thoughts started to run. Asking questions you had no answers to. Questions about your new coworkers, the area you’d be staying at, basic things like that. Your radio switched to The Beatles, Blackbird; you decided to focus on that. You didn’t have far left to drive, maybe a good 10 miles or so. You hummed along with the tune, it was a nice song.

   You noticed a large red building start to grow in the distance. You felt your heart rate increase. Your hands felt jittery and sweaty as the Blackbird slowly came to an end. Taking a right you turn into the front of the building. Once parked you hopped out of your van and took a small look around the area. Two people had been waiting for you. One of the men wore a metal helmet that covered his eyes and the other wore a cowboy-like hat with tinted orange sunglasses. They noticed you. The tin head was the one to walk up to you.

“You’re late Maggot! Your arrival should have been hours ago!” Tin man yelled, finger pointing accusingly into your chest. You quirked a brow up.

“I’m sorry-?”

“You are forgiven, but this tardiness will not be appreciated on this team! Now, let us begin!”

Tin man, who you couldn’t tell was Soldier or Heavy, quickly marched away and inside the base. Glasses looked up at you and motioned you to follow and walked inside. With hesitation, you follow the two men inside the base.

Wow! First thing ever posted on this website :D

#tf2 soldier #tf2 x reader #tf2 sniper #team fortress 2 #tf2 fanfiction

[anonomi]

I so wish we got more official content with the Classic Team and they didn't die like 3 pages after being introduced! Like their designs are so pretty and they're so different from the Teufort Nine in a more grounded and grittier way, and yet there's some depth there because they are on first name basis with each other. They get along with each other.

I still have so many questions, like what happened to the Classic Medic? what was the team doing before they got hired by Gray Mann? what is the relationship of Engineer and his father? what possible connection is there to them and the Teufort Nine? How do their methods compare with the nine's? who are these guys??

Just like, anything to give them some depth and characterization beyond being the guys who are fighting ours. I know that's a lot to ask considering the source material, but if the comics can pull off the scout dying scene and then having God sic his angels on Tom Jones in the same breath, it could have done more with the Classic Team. At least like a backstory page or something, so there's more art. I love the comics's artstyle and I wish there was more of it of them.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 comics #team fortress classic #especially for cheavy #there is smthing going on w that man but he's boiled down to guy who smacks up medic and thats nice and all but i want some depth #also Fred conagher like that's engineer's dad that's a big deal hahah #idk i wish i got more CLASSIC SPY #he died literally seconds after being introduced fml #i love team fortress lore but damn does it feel weird sometimes #nomi writes #rambles

[aprofessionalwithoutstandards]

CHART UPGRADE!

(Little peach-colored sliver here is Tom Jones. I included him as a joke sorry if it throws the data)

Decided to add on to my older dataset counting up each character's "screen time" in the mainline tf2 comic. Used the same method as last time, counting appearances per page, not per panel. Definitions of "page" might vary slightly from person to person (hard to define page when it's a webcomic) but overall I think these are pretty solid comparisons. Last time I only counted the nine playable characters and Pauling, but doing this addition really made me realize how much more screen time "comic-exclusive" (so to speak) characters can get, like with Zhanna and even Cheavy showing up more than either Medic or Sniper (Maggie has more screentime than Engie! That's nuts!). I didn't count EVERY side character, of course, a pie chart featuring all of the tfc team, every citizen of Teufort, and Jerry the pilot would be ridiculous

And, of course, my raw numbers:

#i don't love the pie chart for this overall i think the bar works much better. but also the pie chart makes for a nice visual #maybe i'll count dialogue as promised too once i figure out a system for counting it. per bubble? per WORD? hmm. give me suggestions #tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 comics #now watch me tag every character mentioned here to get recognition for my efforts #scout tf2 #soldier tf2 #pyro tf2 #demoman tf2 #heavy tf2 #engineer tf2 #medic tf2 #sniper tf2 #spy tf2 #miss pauling #administrator tf2 #saxton hale #zhanna tf2 #tfc heavy #tom jones #can't imagine there are active fan tags for maggie or gray mann so like. sorry girlies

[tf2-oneshots]

Hey! I've been occasionally reading ur fics for some time and must say I absolutely love the way you write! If you don't have anything against them, I would like to request some poly support, idc if it's romantic or platonic, I just want them to interact, could you please write a fic where Sniper and Spy are just obsessed with Medic's hair? Like not in a nsfw way just them forcing Medic to stop working so they could lay on top of his head and complement it non stop, maybe let them all fall asleep?

Thank you!! I would love to write them!

Warnings: none!

Rating: General

“Thank you, Spy!” Soldier rises from his chair, saluting to the Frenchman before brushing the hair off of his coat. Helmet back on, he marches away from the man with a military style buzzcut. Before leaving, Soldier takes a proud look in the handheld mirror before hurrying away.

Recently, a few members of the team needed haircuts. After a fiasco involving a bottle of pink hair dye and a squirrel in Scout’s hoodie, the Teufort Nine were banned from the last barbershop in town. So, Spy took it upon herself to provide the team with haircuts.

“Doctor, I am ready for you.” Spy calls to the waiting man. Beside him is Sniper, the last of her coworkers in need of a trim. As Medic sits in the chair, coat flattened beneath him, Spy runs his bare hand through the man’s hair. What she feels makes his eyes widen slightly.

“My…your hair is rather soft. You must take excellent care of it.” This was the only time Spy willingly removed his gloves. She can’t properly trim hair with her fingers obscured. Several more swipes through the graying strands confirm the sensation.

“Oh, please! I wash it like everyone else.” Sniper is beckoned by Spy, leaving Medic with mercenaries brushing through his unnaturally soft hair. It truly is a marvel how smooth it feels. From his neck to the adorable curl on his forehead, every inch of hair feels like silk.

“It’s like a chinchilla.” Sniper comments, causing Medic to giggle. Out of every animal he could have chosen, the Aussie picked a chinchilla for comparison. Medic swats their hands away, head shaking with an eye roll.

“Enough! You’re embarrassing me!” Medic covers his face, giggling and kicking his feet. He’s never had someone obsess over his hair, let alone two people at once! Sniper returns to his seat, chuckling at Medic’s bright red face.

“Get on with the cut, Spook.” Spy picks up her scissors, happy to cut Medic’s hair if it means touching it some more. She snips the sections, slow to measure them out before snipping it. Once he finishes, Medic lifts himself to return to work. However, a hand is placed on his shoulder.

“Not so fast. Stay. Let us play with your hair for a bit longer.” Spy urges. Medic tries to resist, but both men would much rather have him here than in the medbay. With a nudge, Medic finds his head laid in Sniper’s lap with a hand running through the freshly cut hair.

“Well, I suppose I can stay for a little bit.” Another giggle. Medic just loves this sort of attention, and both men are willing to give it.

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 requests #tf2 medic #tf2 spy #tf2 sniper #support sandwich #medicsniperspy

[neptunoroto]

teufort nine mix | picture

a playlist inspired by the game's aesthetic and characters, with songs from the late 1960s/early 1970s.

#playlist #mine: playlist #late 60s #early 70s #team fortress 2 #tf2 playlist #tf2 offense #tf2 defense #tf2 support #tf2 medic #tf2 scout #tf2 spy #tf2 engineer #tf2 sniper #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 heavy #tf2 demoman

[write-behind-you]

📖 or 🔎. Dealer's choice :3

🦇- A vampire or similar creature

A pair of red eyes shone from the shadows, glancing quickly around before settling on the oblivious cook. Spy stepped out of the shadows and silently approached, somehow even quieter than usual. He didn't know why he was so hungry, but he did know he found the right person.

The amount of face that was revealed from his mask was a bit paler than normal, and it made him look sickly. His normally grey eyes were a shade of red like blood. And his teeth. They felt strange in his mouth. He assumed he had some sore of illness. Something to eat would help him, surely.

"Bonsoir."

#Gentlemen. #The Teufort Nine #Make it quick. #lets-tmnt-topside

[were-team-fortress]

Good afternoon Miss P!

It’s good to see you, didn’t think I’d see you around these parts.

Huh? What do you mean I said that yesterday and this is still just your mailbox? … haha… yeah, I need to think of new lines…

No, still no questions, just more letters.

Your address seems to be getting more popular recently, you don’t have a bunch of boyfriends or something do you? Or girlfriends! Either is fine! I’m down with people like that, haha…

Um, I’ll just… I’ll catch you around, see you tomorrow Miss P…

- 📫

Oh, you're back! Well, it is your job. Hey, before you go--

[She drops a strawberry candy in your hand.]

There. It's from my office. Least I can do.

[Her eyebrow raises as she laughs.] Boyfriends? No, no. My... 'patients' are kind of famous. Infamous? Pick whichever. You've heard of the Teufort Nine, haven't you? Plenty of people want to hear from them.

Either way, I'm flattered you think I could even get that many boyfriends. Nope, still single. Married to my work, though, you could say.

Well, off you go now. Thanks for chatting.

#// ask #📫 anon #ask blog #roleplay blog #tf2 #miss pauling #roleplay

[ao3feed-tf2ships]

Miss Pauling gone astray

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/49581436 by Kayuri She just wanted to know why RED had been so unpredictable on the battlefield lately. And now she is surrounded by nine people that are just as insane as the people she knows. God help her. (or: Miss Pauling's last hope for sanity in this weird place goes out of the window when she sees what the Teufort Swaps did to those people.) Words: 2511, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Series: Part 15 of Post-Teufort

Fandoms: Team Fortress 2

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Miss Pauling (Team Fortress 2), Original Medic Character(s) (Team Fortress 2), Original Sniper Character(s) (Team Fortress 2), Original Pyro Character(s) (Team Fortress 2), Original Spy Character(s) (Team Fortress 2), Original Scout Character(s) (Team Fortress 2), Original Soldier Character(s) (Team Fortress 2), Original Demoman Character(s) (Team Fortress 2), Original Heavy Character(s) (Team Fortress 2), Original Engineer Character(s) (Team Fortress 2), Original Team Fortress 2 Character(s)

Relationships: Heavy/Medic (Team Fortress 2), Demoman & Soldier (Team Fortress 2), Pyro & Sniper (Team Fortress 2), Scout & Spy (Team Fortress 2)

Additional Tags: Identity Issues, Bodyswap, Scout Knows Spy Is Scout's Parent (Team Fortress 2), Trans Male Character, soldier and engie are trans, tags and rating may change

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/49581436

#TF2 Heavy #TF2 Medic #HeavyMedic #Red Oktoberfest

[xxiamtiebrousxx]

Chapter One "Press Start" (My Fortress Home | Tf2 x Reader)

A/n: For @niccino-apino. Sorry it took so long to get this done! Reader is gender neutral by the way, using they/them pronouns.

The light from my laptop illuminated my room. The Team Fortress 2 pop funkos lined the shelves. A 3D printed mini-sentry was on top of stacked books. Printed physical copies of the comics were laid out on the desk. I had all the posters of each mercenary taped to my wall. I owned the plushies, including the RED and BLU spy crabs. There were several pins, nine to be exact, spread across my desk. Each had the mercenary class icons.

I was a huge Team Fortress 2 fan and no one could change that. 

It was near midnight, there was nothing wrong with that. I could catch up on my sleep later. I waited for the big update for Team Fortress 2. My uncle, U/n, who was one of the Team Fortress 2 developers, actually listened to the community and decided to make every update come true. Gabe Newell allowed this major update to happen. They even released the seventh comic!

It would include the long awaited Heavy update, new maps, new items, a new short film, and a new class. The legendary, mythical tenth class would be a customizable character for the player. You could design their costume, name, weapons, everything! And I would be the first person to try it out. I’d be the (class name). I already had sketches of my character’s design. My uncle granted me super, special VIP access to the update. It would only happen at midnight. The next day, anyone else could play.

I had already logged into my Steam account and accessed TF2. I waited and waited. I scrolled through my cosmetic items. I nearly owned them all! From hats to Halloween gear. My phone lit up, notifying me. Then it began to ring. The ringtone was Medic’s theme. The notification sound effect was Scout’s “Bonk” catchphrase. The alarm was the main theme.

“Hello?” I asked, picking up my phone.

“Y/n, sweetie!” my uncle exclaimed. “It’s me, how are you?” I practically felt him smiling. He was my favorite uncle.

Fortunately for me, he was my only uncle. 

“I’m fine, just waiting for the update,” I replied. My screen crashed. I tried to reload it but it wasn’t working. It turned black. “Oh, something’s wrong with my laptop.”

“Uh, Y/n, about the update,” U/n said. 

“Hold on,” I said. I hit the screen and it turned back on, playing the Valve intro. The update! It  was already happening! “My screen’s back on,” I said. “So, what’s wrong with it?”

“There’s some bugs that need to be fixed and-.” 

The line went dead.

“Uh, uncle?” I asked. As the Valve intro finished playing, the screen glitched again. There was an option. “PRESS START.” It said. I simply hit the enter button. Then one by one, the icons of the mercenaries appeared.

Scout, Soldier, Pyro.

Engineer, Heavy, Demo.

Medic, Sniper, Spy.

A last icon appeared. One that was different from the others. It was the game’s logo and it seemed to grow. 

"WELCOME TO TEUFORT."

I blacked out.

My limbs ached and were sore. My head was throbbing. I couldn’t see. It felt as if I was falling. Falling down an endless abyss. Wind blew through my hair. It didn’t seem to end. Then the pain arrived. I screamed as my arm cracked. I could hear it. It sounded like when the bones break in TF2. That sound of chips being crushed up in a bag when you lose HP.

“Mission starts in sixty seconds.” I opened my eyes. The bright sun was blinding. I groaned, covering my eyes and got up. I was standing on gravel because it crunched under my feet. I looked up.

“Woah!” I exclaimed. The two bases of TF2’s map, 2Fort, stood before me. I started laughing. “This is unbelievable!” I said. This had to be a dream! There was no way this could be real. I started to look around. The bridge, the gate, the bases! It all felt real! Even the Administrator’s voice was legit! It sounded so real! I was animated in SFM style. My clothes, skin, and hair shined. I wore a one piece jumpsuit similar to the one Black Widow wore in Avengers. Only, it glitched back and forth from red and blue. I had a utility belt around my hips, a satchel backpack on my back, and fingerless gloves. The TF2 logo was on my arm.

“Mission starts in ten seconds,” the administrator said. I giggled. Lucid dreaming hypnosis really works if you listen to it long enough. I don’t remember using the shifting abilities people on the Internet talked about, which seemed unbelievable, but this was a story worth putting on. “Five, four, three, two one, fight!” The alarm sounded off and the gunshots went off.

The only problem was that both teams were headed right for me. Bullets skimmed past my arms. I started to lose HP. 

As if it was muscle memory, I pulled out a gun from my pack and started shooting. The RED Scout dodged and hit me with his metal bat. It was painful! I fell back and landed on my shoulder, possibly breaking it. The scout towered over me.

“Are you new?” he asked. 

“Yeah, I think so,” I weakly answered. 

“Cool,” he said. He held his hand out and pulled me to my feet. 

“Scout! Stop messing around and come help us!” Engineer called out.

“Alright, alright! I’ll be there!” he replied. “But first, meet uh… What’d you say your name was?” he asked. 

“Uh, Y/n,” I replied. 

“Sorry, can’t use that,” he said. “I shoulda asked for your class name.”

“Oh, it’s (Class name),” I said. “Is that good?” He nodded.

“It’ll work,” he replied. “Hey Engy! Come meet (Class name)!” Before he could come over, a rocket landed in front of us, blowing Scout and I into the water. I was extremely low on HP. I was near death. I swam towards the sewer. I crawled halfway before giving up. Pyro ran past me, holding his flare gun when he stopped and looked down at me. 

“Hey,” I said, panting. “Is this real life or am I dreaming?” I asked. 

“Mmmmph,” he replied, shrugging. I sighed, resting on my back. I floated in the water. “Mmmph mmph?” I wiped water off my face.

“What?” I asked. He grabbed me by my feet and dragged me to the nearest medikit. I collected it and my HP was restored. “Thanks,” I said, standing up.

“Mmph,” Pyro replied, running off. I looked down at the hall/sewer before me. I walked up the stairs and hid behind the crates. My suit stopped changing colors and settled on red. The Red Heavy just entered with a disguised Blu Spy following behind him. There was a backstab noise and Heavy screamed in pain. I looked up from my hiding place. He was dead.

And I was next.

I felt the butterfly knife pierce my back and I collapsed. I was dying, watching the Spy pull out his weapon. 

The next thing I knew I was dead.

I woke up, gasping for air. I was on the floor back in my room. My laptop was off. My uncle busted down, not literally, the door. 

“Y/n!” he exclaimed. “What happened? You weren’t answering my calls!” I rubbed my head.

“I don’t know what happened,” I replied. “I must’ve passed out from exhaustion.” He sighed.

“Well, let’s get you to bed,” he said. I looked up at my laptop.

 It flickered back on for a moment with words that read “(Class Name) has joined the game.”

#Romance #Team Fortress 2 x reader #tf2 x Reader #Tf2 Sniper X Reader #Tf2 Spy X Reader #Tf2 Medic X Reader #Tf2 Heavy X Reader #Tf2 Demoman x reader #tf2 Engineer x reader #tf2 Pyro X Reader #Tf2 Scout x reader #tf2 Soldier x Reader #X Reader #Fanfiction #Humor #video games #tf2 #team fortress 2

[presidentbungus]

I don’t feel like writing something new but I don’t think I ever posted this on tumble so here’s the thanksgiving fic i wrote last year lol. pretend I just wrote it REALLY REALLY fast in the last 10 minutes, capiche? you got it

team fortress generic thanksgiving fanfiction. 1494 words

ao3

Thanksgiving here’s not really like it used to be back home. Dell used to help around with cooking, sure, but he never really found himself in front of the stove for three straight hours as he tried to pull together a feast from, relatively, scraps. One man here eats enough for nine, times nine because there’s eight other guys besides him, and Sniper and Scout are so skinny he’s not sure how they even fit that much food in their stomachs—

Agh. Timer. Engineer stops it and tugs the pan of candied pecans out of the oven—a Thanksgiving tradition that had to be abided by, naturally, even if it used up most of the sugar stores. Demo’s currently at the market in Teufort for more, anyway, plus bread for stuffing and eggs and packs of gravy and about a dozen more sticks of butter and Engineer told him not to but realistically he’s going to come back down with a few crates of beer too, which Dell has prepared for by having a few now since they’ll be very restocked later.

Scout comes over and tries to snatch a nut off the tray and he promptly drops it on the floor and complains about it being hot, to which Engineer says it just came out of the oven and what did I tell you you were supposed to be doing?

Um, Scout replies, sucking on the tip of his thumb. Mashing potatoes I think.

You think? Get on, it’s 4:00 already and we don’t even have the turkey out. Scout gets on. Earlier today he walked into the kitchen and did that little laugh-snort he does when he’s about to smartass up to ya, and he said Engie looked like a housewife in that dumb little apron of his, cookin’ along. And Dell turned around and said ain’t nothin’ wrong with housewives, me or my apron, boy, they’re all important things. And he’d been planning to rope Scout in anyway—important to give him responsibilities, he’s young enough that kinda thing’ll benefit his work ethic later (and also he didn’t want to have to finish the rest of this alone), so he waved at Scout and handed him the spatula and told him to stir up the cranberry sauce while he got to work on the green-bean casserole.

What else has to be made at this point? Cranberry sauce, potatoes, nuts, one bowl of stuffing while he waits on the rest of the bread to get here, that’s all done, and the sweet potato and green bean casseroles, respectively, are working out in the oven. Soldier’s out in the backyard smoking the turkey—smoking probably being a weak word for whatever he’s doing, but that’s why Engineer has another one prepared to go in the oven whenever he hears something explode outside, and Demo’s gonna make a cheesecake, and Heavy’s in the rec room waiting to take the place of Scout and make whatever he said he'd make; soup or something, probably. And Pyro’s also gonna make some kind of baked dessert too, come to think of it (at least given whatever they attempted to communicate to Engineer a few minutes ago)—and last year Medic brought some oddly-shaped pink thing that bled and squelched when you cut into it and nobody asked about that or, in extension, took a bite, so he’s probably not gonna be helping this year. 

Scout taps Engineer’s shoulder and says he’s done, and he goes to examine the bowl and it’s actually well-mashed, which is certainly a welcome surprise—Dell wonders if he’s done this before. He thanks Scout, says he doesn’t need anything else for now but keep an ear out, and Scout legitimately breaks out at a full sprint leaving the kitchen and almost throws the bowl onto the floor but Engineer barely manages to save it as Heavy falls in right after him.

Dell says hi. Heavy says hi. Heavy says: what is occasion?

Thanksgiving, I guess. Pilgrims or something. Dell takes off the glove on his gunslinger and dips a metal finger into the mashed potatoes and licks it off and runs it under water, muttering: It doesn’t really matter.

But there is feast?

Heavy asks this question every year, always sounding very worried. Yeah, Engineer always says. You wanted to make stew or something?

Yes. Recipe of family. Sisters say it is very delicious.

A glance at the egg timer by the stove—eleven minutes, around. Enough to get out of the heat and sit down and maybe catch a bit of the Macy’s parade if anyone bothered to record it. 

He steps back and rubs his face and smiles. Well, I’ll be back in about ten. The kitchen’s all yours before then.

————

Something about seein’ the spread all neat-like down the table—that’s when it clicks, that’s when it becomes worth it—the whole day and the sweltering heat and his disintegrating knees and all. Especially when Sniper and Spy come and sit down, after everyone else, but it still feels like such a victory when they otherwise wouldn’t come to investigate if the whole base went and burned to the ground.

The food isn’t great, which was mostly expected—what remains of the turkey is charred and nearly wholly inedible (though Soldier insists on pushing a big helping of it on everyone who doesn’t manage to snap up their plates in time), and everything else is mainly a fault of the dirt-cheap ingredients used in the making—Heavy’s soup is delicious as usual, however, and is the first thing to vanish from the table as everyone scrambles to get a few bowls of it before it’s gone.

Things calm down after that. Idle chatter, lots of beers being passed around (Engineer’s prediction about Demo’s grocery shopping habits was wholly correct); Demo disappears into the kitchen for a bit, along with Pyro, and twenty minutes they come out with a cheesecake and brownie tray respectively and everyone cheers. The cheesecake is unfortunately dropped on the floor in the resulting wrestling match between Heavy, Soldier, and Demo (Scout will later say he was a part of it and basically won, though everyone remembers him just kind of standing at the edge of the conflict and looking vaguely afraid), but thankfully Demo is able to guard it well enough that no one stomps on it and the five second rule exists for a reason and a slice is still divvied out to everyone who still has even the slightest trace of an appetite.

It’s just the photo after that—Engie insists, despite a slew of protests. Somethin’ to send home to their families (or hang on the fridge to embarrass everyone for years to come; same difference). Spy makes himself scarce but Soldier has the nose of a bloodhound and he comes back ten minutes later with Spy in tow, looking somewhat ashamed of himself. The whole room smells like sweat and meat and the slightest hint of chocolate, and everyone looks about ready to pass out—and is it really a holiday photo if that’s not the case? Corralling everyone together and getting them to sit still and hold some semblance of civility for at least like five seconds takes another twenty minutes since Demo and Soldier get in a wrestling match every ten seconds and Spy keeps trying to get out of things and Engineer puts Heavy in charge of watching him to make sure he doesn’t cloak and run and nobody ever sees him again. Medic and Sniper sit in the corner and talk quietly. Engineer brings them up as an example of what actual adults act like and then Scout says how he can still feel a bird flapping against his ribcage sometimes and the whole room goes silent and maybe it’s time to get the photo, come to think of it.

Scout is making a face and Soldier’s head is shoved into Demo’s armpit and Spy is gone and Sniper looks like he’s dozing off and Medic has got himself covered in blood again for some goddamn reason and there Engineer is, in the center of it all, grinning as a cyclone hurricane happens behind him. The photo’s terrible, there’s no real doubt about that, and he’s probably gonna have to retake another one at some point where everybody’s not already fed up with each other, but Engineer still finds himself smiling every time he looks at it regardless—this is miles more accurate than the stock preposed all smiles holiday card kinda picture will ever be, anyway. They're kooky idiots, they are, who are incapable of things they probably should be wholly capable of, but at the end of the day they're his kooky idiots and he can't help but feel pride for each and every one of them.

Yeah, not much like back home in the slightest. Engineer wouldn’t really have it any other way

#bungus fics #tf2 #tf2 engineer #tf2 scout #tf2 heavy #everybody else is here too but not enough to tag

[cooltf2facts]

We had a group dinner at the Glass Salmon Diner down in the west side of Teufort. The restaurant’s tagline reads, “Authentic biscuits and gravy. Delicious steaks!”

Miss Pauling tagged along with us and brought a date with her. We knew the woman was coming and Pauling had said she was a very sweet, quiet sort of lady. Her name was Doris. When she arrived, she was wearing a long poncho with a drawing of a horse on it.

As we sat at the long table in the back corner of the diner, Doris barley said a word and only stared at each merc for a full minute. Nine minutes. Nine minutes she spent in silence, just staring at the men.

Finally, Miss Pauling decided to engage Doris in the group’s conversation as she was making everyone (namely Spy, somehow) extremely uncomfortable. She said to Doris, “Tell them about yourself.”

Doris pulled out a tape recorder and started playing the worst song we had ever heard. It sounded like one of those electric fly catchers but on constant repeat with a man screaming. “That’s my brother,” she said finally. “Isn’t he a great singer? I make these tapes for him.”

“Hm…” was the only word said, spoken by Heavy.

“Any of you want refills on your coffee?” The waitress asked.

“Sure!” Engineer said. “And can you get us some of those biscuits over there? And…and…is something burning?”

Everyone looked to Pyro, but strangely, Pyro’s hand were empty. They simply shrugged and pointed to Doris.

Doris had set the napkins on fire, with a lighter shaped like a horse.

#tf2 #tf2 miss pauling #tf2 whole team #tf2 spy #tf2 heavy #tf2 engineer #tf2 pyro #lore #emily