Do people actually hate short fic chapters as much as is talked about? Do people like it better when there's a oneshot with scenes jumping around in time/characters/location, or a multi-chapter fic with each chapter being ~700-1200 words? How short does a chapter have to be in order to be considered "short"? C->1 ;_;
DAY 64
Day 30!
sorry I can’t export the video right now :(
I swear to god next time i wake up at 3 A.M. I'm gonna see him staring at me from the darkness
THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVWR TNE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE-(...)
Working on a new chapter but I took a break to draw my beloved Medic
Maybe Jeremy Emesis Blue doesn't wear his dog tags anymore because you need to remove anything around the neck of someone having a seizure. So either Fritz or his ma or both were worried enough about him having one again that they made him stop wearing them, just in case, so he wouldn't accidentally get choked. Hmmm
My random niche TF2 headcanon is that when necessary, Engi speaks/translates for Pyro, but if he's not available for whatever reason, Pyro uses an AAC tablet he made with his own voice. But prefers no tech AAC plus mmphing (and ends up burning most low tech stuff anyways because, Pyro). Also the tablet icons are Pyro's own drawings.
Are you there, god? It’s me, Fritz.
Im totally sane about my writing.
Prologue
Life was a delicate thing. Anyone who worked in this place knew that. How quickly it could go, the memories you lose with every passing second.
Death was fuzzy. You never came back right, your head dizzy and your mouth dry as if the decomposing process sped up and you were growing mold instead of a tongue. It was a terrifying thing- to die. But it came with the job.
They were some of the lucky few. Those fortunate enough to have access to such mad technology, the respawn machine. It could always be worse, they reminded themselves. They got to live with a second chance. They were the lucky ones. Them, and nobody else.
The team medic, Doctor Fritz Ludwing, Rested on the sniper's perch. He shouldn't be up here and he knew it. He was needed more now than ever. With what's happened recently, his job has become worse and worse.
His hand instinctively clutched his cross. He never used to be religious, but after dying this many times, it does something to a person. He needed direction. He needed to know there was something out there watching him, understanding him. Whatever it was, he craved the idea of following. Of worshiping something besides this hell he was living in.
Something was wrong with the respawn machine.
His team, for the first time, was at risk of dying. Of really, really dying. Not like any of them knew. He often wondered what it would be like- to lose one of his colleagues on the field. He prayed often he’d never find out.
The enemy team was still after them. It's not like they could exactly call this whole fight off. Money was a powerful thing, and any sane man would want to keep their riches and invincibility. To ask them to stop would be a suicide mission. After all, Getting rid of each other was their whole purpose. The reason they- whatever they are- were made. Fritz could only assume it was replacement parts. Old scrap and wires whenever they died. Old tissue forcibly sewn back together by the devil they called Respawn. Maybe they were human once. Maybe they never existed. He’d spend nights staying awake wondering this.
Who was he? Why was the person he was fighting so similar? Were they the same? Was this some sick form of punishment? To kill one who resembled you so perfectly? What has he done to deserve this life?
“Lots on your mind, Mate?”
“More than you'd know.”
The team sniper. Mick Mundy. Probably the safest on the team- the last of Fritz’ worries.
“People are lookin’ for ya.”
“I'm sure they are.”
It came off harsher than he meant it to. Mick seemed to pause slightly at the shift of tone, but he seemed unbothered. Not like Fritz could ever tell. He hardly knew this man. He always kept to himself. Ironic. The safest man on the team, and yet he never interacted with them all. You'd think you'd like to meet the people you die with, wouldn't you?
“...Mate.”
“I'll be down in a second, danke.”
He never heard the sniper leave, but he could only assume by the sound of silence surrounding him once again. He rubbed his face in his hands, feeling the cold skin slide over his features, forcing his eyes to close. He took a deep breath, forcing his body up to meet the rest of the team.
God be with them all.