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No. 7891
Old thread autosaged! For a clean start, and some grammar fixes/edits throughout, I’m re-posting everything thus far for ease of reading. New chapter will be at the end of the dump and we’ll be right back on track. Enjoy!

For anyone new: WARNING - NAMED CHARACTERS. This story is about a BLU Spy altered into a tentaspy, who ends up taking interest in a RED Engineer. I like exploring his watery nature; I focus a lot on gills and his animal instincts conflicting with him. It’s weighty on plot, and has a supporting cast. If you want an out of context fix of loving Tenta/Engie porn I’d recommend my fic “Fimbriae” on this board.

...

[ Part 1 ]

They told horror stories about Respawn.

It was supposed to be a new technology to save lives...but just months after its installation already the men stationed at The Well felt like guinea pigs with a Russian roulette gun pointed at their temples.

Some people got sick from Respawn, the shakes, night terrors, seizures. At the same time, some remained unaffected; fresh as daisies when the machine spit them out. It seemed quite ‘choosy’. The worst, of course, was that sometimes it did the very opposite of what it was designed to do – it could kill you. People had been fried by Respawn if they went through too many times in a week, or the power levels dipped too low, or your respawn was after hours, any number of factors...

The Respawn machine was indeed a fickle mistress.

That was why the mercenaries actually gave two shits about calling for a medic. The medigun could heal you up in a jiffy, giving you one less pull of the trigger with that respawn roulette gun.

But it’s hard to call for a medic when you are tossed into the water.

“AGGnnn!” The BLU team’s only Spy was thrown into the canal, tossed by a blast from a soldier’s rocket launcher. He’d have survived if he could have made it to the tunnels, but the same RED solider followed after him to finish the job. ”Bon voyage Crouton!” The American chuckled as the rocket fired.

The Spy didn’t have time to dodge, even if it all seemed to happen in slow motion. He was always so careful, so sneaky; in his 4 months of service the worst he’d ever got was spy check burns, which thankfully respawn or the mediguns fixed. But he’d never been gibbed in the water, and it was so close to ceasefire...

His mid section was blown clear apart, guts and blood spilling into the water. In a foolish reflex, he had put his hands down to try and block the attack. Those were blown off nicely too. Since his head was mostly unharmed, he had a few moments to watch the world go dark as he bled out, and to see his mangled body. His finely tailored suit was like confetti among intestine streamers as the Spy drifted in the waterway.

The ceasefire bell rang just as the BLU Spy sank to the bottom, dead at last.

The Respawn machines automatically lowered their power levels after ceasefire, sensing no more bodies in the pick up system. The Spy was left waterlogged for a good half hour, forgotten. His team did not wonder where he was at dinner; the Spy was frequently out of sight, off on his own. That was what Spies did. So it was not thought of again.

...

The Frenchman’s balaclava was partially blown off, making his short, dark, and slightly curly hair a tangle for some young fish to pick through. There were lots of aquatic creatures in the canals, for the irrigation-like waterways at Well eventually led out to rivers and aquifers, hence the base’s namesake. Any small river fish, crawdad, and frog that could squeeze through the grates made it in, and would feed on the bits of blood and flesh that Respawn did not pick up. The system often left behind ‘extraneous’ appendages that it could just reconstruct - blown off legs, fingers, toes; all good scavenging for the freshwater wildlife. The fish would grow and become too big to make it back through the grates, making the canals like little ecosystems of their own.

The fish scattered like a fluff of disturbed feathers as the Spy’s body zapped out of existence, finally recovered by respawn.

...

The BLU team, who was sitting down to dinner, startled as they heard a *KZZATTCChhh*. The lights flickered, and then the power went out entirely.

“Wot the bloody ‘ell...?” The marksman snorted to the darkness.

There was a silence before the Scout burst out laughing.

“Shuddap!” The Soldier barked, aggravated and hungry, not liking being unable to see his dinner.

“Did we blow a fuse or somethin’?” The BLU Engineer scrunched up his nose. Soon the rest of the team was poking him to go fix it, because that was his job right? The Engineer grumbled it was BLU industries job to make sure their equipment was working, the lazy bastards.

He went over to the breaker box, and indeed found the Respawn circuit tripped. It had shorted out the rest of the base. He grunted in annoyance, but was then pleased as he could easily fix the issue and be a ‘hero’ to the rest of the waiting team. A quick flick over of the breaker switches, and the team gave an amused cheer from the kitchen. Anything different was welcomed to the monotony of the work week, they’d be stationed at Well a long time with no transfer.

The breaker box was in the locker room just outside Respawn. A wispy cloud of amino acid-laced smoke spewed out of the Respawn room as the missing member of their team finally materialized. The BLU Engineer drew closer; confused as to why someone was re-spawning after ceasefire...

He gawked as the smoke cleared; unsure if what he was seeing was real.

...
...
...

[ Part 2 ]

When he awoke, the Spy found himself strapped down, and being prodded over by Team Fortress Industries BLU crewmembers.

The company got wind of the ‘malfunction’ right away, and stepped in to ‘correct’ the problem. They had no idea how Respawn could cause someone’s genetic make up to alter so completely, and so neatly. They sent the Spy though multiple respawns, with various settings and injected drugs, trying to make the system restore his original pattern. However, the system believed the combined animal and human DNA to BE his original signature. The scientists were a bit baffled. How did the foreign DNA get in there to begin with?

Of course there was no original backup on hand... it would cost too much to store such high-memory data with redundancy.

“Je vous en prie....please....no more...” The Spy was mumbling to deaf ears, not fully aware of his surroundings (or much of anything) because of the drugs. Why did he feel so dry? Why was breathing so hard? He groaned at the lights overhead and the straps holding him down.

“I don’t think we can fix it...”
“What about his contract...?”
“Cover it up, no one will know. He’s a Spy, his identity is already shadowed… like he doesn’t exist. They’ll find a replacement in a few weeks.”
“What do we do with him then - ?”

“Dispose of him.”

They wiped his data from the system, and prepared lethal injection doses, unaware from the viewing deck wide eyes were looking down upon them.

It was a middle aged German man, the doctor technician in charge of keeping the complex bio patterns for the BLU’s respawn machines in check.

BLU had been trying for years to auto regulate the patterns, but computers had not yet caught up to how to recognize minute nuances. They still required a human element to periodically weed out the different from the ‘okay to be different’ pieces, otherwise the computer would respawn the men as they were at their last original pattern scan – including hormone levels, stomach contents, hair growth, and most important – memory. It was the reason respawn was not perfect; it still had a human behind the wheel to keep those elements in check.

He had taken over for the previous technician who had left....that man had developed the whole system. No doubt he was relaxing on a beach somewhere, paid handsomely by BLU for his inventions. While equally brilliant, the scientist in charge now felt his own genius was completely ignored. He was nothing more than a caretaker, a baby sitter. He felt everyone on the behind the scenes team looked at him as such.

So he decided to work on something of his own, something that would make BLU single him out for as HIS work- his invention.

He kept it a secret from everyone. That day he finally put his computations into the respawn system. Watching on the Administration cameras, he saw the Spy blown conveniently into the water before the ceasefire bell. No one would miss him for 30 minutes; his body would be hidden. Surreptitiously, he quickly got to work. He needed the extra time to mix his altered patterns with that on file for the Spy...
Now here he was, staring down at his work, it was successful in that the Spy was ALIVE, and not a pile of protein goo. The real question was - was he the perfected hunting and infiltration machine he had intended to create? Surely BLU should recognize his genius – bioengineered soldiers, fit for any terrain. Sea, land, and air could be conquered, without the need of added technology! This was only the start...
The German brashly came into the room, smug and blinded by his own ego.
He revealed the altered Spy was his doing, and explained how he did it. The half aware Spy just barely heard what he was saying, but he could not process it at that moment. The other technicians stared at him, not sure whether to be shocked, scared, or impressed.
However the reception he received was not as glorious as he had envisioned.
The administration head of BLU were not pleased. They wanted people who answered to them, not sneaking about and doing things behind their backs. They could not have insubordination. Half animal soldiers? Such nonsense.
The German was hauled away, cursing and screaming. He was to be dealt with appropriately. As for his experiment? He pleaded with BLU to let him study it, to not destroy it. It was proof of his success! Proof of his genius! They could do so much with his discoveries!
As he was handcuffed and the door to the respawn room closed, all he saw was that lethal injection needle coming up to the altered Spy.
...
...
...

[ Part 3 ]

They could dissect him – see exactly the damage the Respawn doctor had done. The Spy did not even have time to think about why he couldn’t quite feel his legs, or what that mass of writhing was from his hips down. He was just aware enough of that ominous needing coming for him. It would mean his final death.

Instinct kicked in.

The other DNA in him said ‘ESCAPE’.

The doctors all screamed as tentacles ferociously struck out, tearing through leather restraints and knocking over metal tools. Guards came in the room, momentarily shocked at the speed and strength long enough for one of the doctors to be violently ripped apart like a piñata. Bullets flew, purple blood splattered against the walls. An inhuman snarl, a flash of claws and fangs was all they saw before the gunmen were bloodily dispatched.

With a damaged cloaking device, the injured Spy was tailed by more TFI guards right into the war game compound. A few of his old team caught sight of what was going on. They watched as their former Spy was riddled with bullets, and kicked into the sewers like garbage.

While they wanted to understand what had happened, dirty looks and reminders of where their paycheck was coming from quickly stopped questions from the mercenaries. The altered Spy was dead, the German doctor imprisoned, it was done with.

…

However, they had miscalculated the altered Spy’s ability to heal.

He survived…barely.

The BLU Medic wondered where some of his med kits disappeared off to, but it was not worth worrying about for too long. The men often took medkits to treat minor wounds themselves.

The former BLU Spy tended to his wounds with a distant demeanor, like running on autopilot. His body dragged him to a dark, sheltered corner of the pipe-ways in the canal, where it felt safe. He was instantly asleep - exhausted, stressed and confused.

It was only after he was out of danger, and had a full night’s sleep at the bottom of the canal, that he could wake up and really realize what’d become of him and where he was.

[/i]‘Tut Alor…..][/i]

He gawked at himself, and tried to push it away like he could escape from his own body. HIS body, that writhing mass was part of HIM. He tore off his tattered pinstripe suit to inspect himself fully, to touch and confirm it was real. So much of him was changed...

He thought he was still wearing his thin leather gloves, but he could not be because they surely wouldn’t have fit over the webbing that now stretched between his fingers. His hands were the same color as the dark aged leather. The color tapered off just before his elbows into a mass of spots. Scraggly frills ran down the once damaged skin there on his arms, and down his backbone.

He was loosely spotted elsewhere, all along his sides too, where they ended by what appeared to be gills. They had to be considering he was underwater and breathing comfortably. He took a deep breath, the thick, coolness of the water not causing him to gag. He felt and watched as the water pushed out the slits there in his flesh. He spent a few moments letting that sink in, exploring that feeling, but it wasn’t hard to ignore the largest change which demanded his full attention...

...the tentacles.

Where his legs used to be, was a massive, curling pile of tentacles; flexible and muscular, like a kraken, with fleshy suckers from base to tip. Their texture shifted from softly bumpy to smooth, and they could stretch their shape just as easily.

They kind of were doing their own thing, gripping to the sides of the pipe and seeking the edge of it where it led to the open water, anchoring him and exploring the environment with probing suckers. When he thought of them, or even just one, suddenly they flowed under his conscious control. But as his mind wandered so did the appendages. He distantly watched the tip of one curling over his hand; like he was watching someone else.

Were these things really...him? Part of his body?

It had to be him though, he felt his hand as clearly as touching any part of himself, the tentacles were sensitive as fingers. Looking to the ones around the pipe he could feel its roughness, even...taste its grittiness?

‘…what’s that?'

His head jerked over; a tentacle exploring out into the open water gave him some interesting feedback, something the more primitive part of his brain liked. He darted out, letting the impulsive drive him. Thinking would make him have to come to terms with his current situation. His brain could not handle any more stress right now, but his damaged body knew it needed to heal, and to do that it needed energy, it needed food.

A nicely-sized catfish was what he sensed. It was quickly caught with a single tentacle, reeled in, and torn apart, fangs sinking into the sweet flesh. It was a female too, full of eggs. It was delicious to the starving altered Spy as he devoured every last bit. Was it alright to eat the raw meat? Rip and crunch through the bones with his teeth? Running on auto pilot - he did not think about those things too deeply.

The Spy sank to the bottom, coiling up on himself like a sated snake. Each finger was licked clean for every morsel of the prey. He then suddenly scraped his finger on his teeth, flinching. His teeth were certainly much sharper than they had been before. The Spy lay there nursing the small wound, an inhuman ‘churrr’ escaping his throat.

What had become of him? He tried to recall the past few days in any kind of coherent manner.

He recalled the solider killing him, and Respawn must have picked him up for he was here now…he remembered a BLU doctor who was not their team’s Medic looking him over, and multiple other people in BLU issue uniforms. He remembered feeling sick, hungry, achy, and dizzy. There was yelling, and talking. He tried hard but it was all a blur.

He also recalled killing people. A good number of people. The memory was a haze of movement and blood. It was part of his job description to kill people. He liked the rush and the danger, stalking and outwitting his mark, the satisfaction of that fatal backstab, and defending himself if his cover was blown. It was like a game sometimes, like hide and go seek; only you die.

He was always professional, cool, collected. But self defense and assignment was one thing. The fact he felt he’d been out of control, couldn’t remember exactly what he did - that greatly disturbed him. That he had killed without deliberation, like some wild animal.

The Spy thought himself an intelligent person, secretive, well traveled, smart, attractive…and a skilled assassin.

But not a monster...

In recent years he was thinking about retiring from the ‘spy business’ (he had the right connections he could change his identity and ‘disappear’ to do so...) He had wants of companionship. To think - a ‘lonely spy’. There were plenty of flings and nights out, but he could never have a steady lover as a spy; it’d be too dangerous for both of them. He had enough money saved he could have done it after his tour with BLU. Find someone, get an apartment in the city, and settle in together. Enjoy cups of tea and coffee at corner café’s in Paris, eat expensive pastries, make love on silk bed sheets. Someone to be there for him every morning, and into older age.

Why did this suddenly cross his mind?

Maybe because as he looked at himself…he realized he’d never have any of that now.

Dominique crawled back into that pipe, where it felt safe. He’d never felt depressed or lost like this, not even when he was captured by the enemy and interrogated, not even when he spent days sitting alone on stake out. He was overwhelmed and exhausted.

His tentacles pulled his clothes back to him; they made a passable pillow as he curled up into a silently weeping ball.


[ Part 4 ]

The Spy huffed as he growled at his Cloak and Dagger and Disguise Kit.

Both had been damaged in the attack. He did not have the mechanical ability to fix them, despite trying. The charge on the invisibility watch did not hold through movement, but it still worked while stationary. It could still be helpful. His disguise kit glitched randomly; it was unreliable to the point of uselessness.

Being a man of espionage who survived without such technology for over a decade, Dominique figured he’d get by.

Getting by, however, consisted of becoming accustomed to his new existence.

That first day, after he got over what he’d become and how he almost died by his own team’s hands, he started slowly exploring his new ‘home’. His idle exploration was also good means to get used to his changed body. Simple swimming seemed to come naturally, instincts no doubt, because when he thought ‘swim’ that mess of tentacles would react in an appropriate manner, falling together in unison. Though he’d always been a good swimmer, so the water wasn’t foreign to him.

When he skirted along the bottom, he ‘walked’ more then swimming, pushing off strongly from any stable surface to propel him smoothly along. His tentacles poked into every nook and cranny, taking in the texture of the concrete walls, and the rocks and metal littering the bottom. So many things he could stop to look at because his lungs weren’t burning with a held breath.

When he paused, or came up on a wall, his parachute-like mantle flared to grasp, with suckers seeking purchase all on their own, grasping and wanting to explore everything they could reach. This made him somewhat distressed, because it made him feel like he was out of control of his body. He didn’t like that idea of being out of control of anything, especially his own actions. How could he sneak about with wandering limbs? He couldn’t think of them all at every moment.

Reasoning, the Spy compared himself to a child learning to walk. A baby couldn’t walk before they could crawl, surely this was no different?

It was like there was another voice inside him, urges he’d never felt before. Whatever was altered about him physically, felt like it infiltrated into more then just his appearance. This troubled him for some time, because not only did it feel like his tentacles had a mind of their own, it was like his own brain had another mind of its own. He decided the best way not to let this outside voice take over was to continue to stay active and intelligently exploring.

Investigating the canals around the shipping base was fascinating; it was a side of the bases he never got to see. The waterways were a lot more extensive than he imagined - with plenty of hollows to hide in. He liked dark, enclosed and hidden…at least a feeling inside him told him such. He could see in the dark, squish into a hole and hide, then have the upper hand.

He also had to explore himself.

He knew his anatomy had changed, but the exact technicalities of how he was still breathing and functioning as a living creature were unknown to him. He craned his neck, trying to get a full look at his naked body. All the damaged skin from when he was killed before that respawn was changed. Scraggly frills on his arms and back were under his control to perk or lower, like a fish. Despite it being impossible for anyone to be around at the bottom of the canal, he glanced about and made sure he had privacy before poking about his lower half.

He ‘lifted up his skirt’, wincing and feeling ill at first seeing all those large suckers on his tentacles where they trailed up towards his torso like spokes of an umbrella. Dominique panicked for a moment, now that he was (mostly) calm, rested, and fed, he could think of secondary things.

Finding himself plenty flexible to curl around like looking between his legs, he felt over his lower anatomy. Where was his manhood? All he could figure out by sight was his ‘ass’ - or what was left of it. A pucker at the crux of those suckers, not in the same position or form as it was before. From what he recalled of animal anatomy, that is where a ‘beak’ would be on octopuses, as it was their mouth, like on starfish or sea urchins. It was funny how all that stuff he learned way back in school was suddenly very helpful. But indeed, that was not where he ate from, it was still the end of his digestive track like it always was. Except missing one very important male attribute.

The Spy slumped against the curve of the large pipe he was laying in. Was he to suffer yet more indignity? He was quite honest with himself in that like most other men in their middle-aged prime he had sexual needs; from self gratification to rolling in the sheets with a partner...he couldn’t imagine living without it. Now what could he do? Would he ever feel the same again? Could he still achieve any kind of sexual pleasure?

He writhed in frustration for some time, stewing over thoughts.

The Spy flitted to the surface to distract himself with other important matters. He considered now what he would do about [/i]land[/i]. He didn’t have legs any more. Could he even GO on land anymore? He recalled vaguely when he escaped from those guards; he was running on autopilot during the ordeal. RUNNING, yes he recalled traversing land somehow. Not swiftly, but still...

His aggravation only grew as he discovered he not only looked quite aquatic - he WAS quite aquatic.

With the cool and safe blanket of night, he fumbled through trying to make his tentacles work in a manner for ‘walking’. They didn’t respond as nicely as when he thought ‘swim’. Thinking about walking like he remembered walking just produced a lot of painful and tangled limbs. He growled in frustration as his face smacked into the dusty ground for the tenth time.

As he did this, staying out of the water 5 minutes, 10 minutes...20 minutes...his throat began to feel dry – and his breaths slowly became shallow and labored as if he had asthma. It was like his throat was closing up, like not enough oxygen was getting to his body with each breath.

He slipped back into the water. After a quick soak, breathing water through his system, he could breathe air just fine. The coordination exercises continued, and he just made sure to keep things damp with regular dunks into the canal.

It was to be assumed his lungs needed to be kept moist to work - that was the logical conclusion. When he breathed underwater, he inhaled water like he would air, but it was exhaled out through the gill slits on his sides. He could feel the cold water passing through him; it was a very natural feeling motion. In fact, it was quite pleasant, pleasurable even.

He wished he could see how his inner anatomy had changed...though that made him think of the word dissection.

...

Not to be caught suffocating on land, the crafty Spy had an idea. He stole a liquor flask from the RED Demoman the next chance he had, when his gibbed body was thrown into the canal. He was the worst Demoman he’d ever seen! Stepped on his own stickybombs. He didn’t need to be drinking any more than he was.

The tentaspy cleaned out the metal flask and kept it in his tattered suit’s breast pocket, filled with fresh water. He could now sneak about for longer periods of time on land. Though his tentacles required moisture after a while too…they’d grow chapped and leathery like lips in the winter, and eventually would be painful to walk on and hard to move with strength. Where they got coated with dusty earth it was only aggravated. He lay out at night by the canal, sipping water from the flask, and testing the limits of dryness for his tentacles.

But it was breathing that was most important; he found the limbs could hold moisture far longer then his breathing required. Looking like a drunkard with a habit, Dominique would periodically take inhaling sips from the flask as he snuck around at night. The flask gave him a lot of freedom from his ‘watery prison’, to think how such a simple thing could be so liberating.

Despite the uplift, the Spy was still incredibly frustrated.

It had been a fortnight since his new existence...and he was really itching for relief from that kind of tingle only orgasm could provide. It wasn’t just your usual need, sure men got horny, but this felt raw and beyond him like many things that clawed at his mind now. It was this animalistic, alien heat inside him, and it didn’t help he had no idea how to satisfy it.

He hit a trigger one evening. As he explored behind RED base, he caught a wiff of something like a good meal being cooked; only there was no smell of food. It was the smell of arousal. Not the odor, but the hormones, the very elements that made it inveigle your senses on a primal level. He peeked into the window there, cracked to the outside as it was a cool, mild evening.

There inside was the RED team’s Medic and Heavy, quite intertwined and muffling their cries so as to not have teammates hear through the wall.

A twinge of humor rose in the Spy, thinking about how he’d backstabbed both of them in tandem multiple times, one after the other. Now he was seeing them in such a different light, not ruthless and intimidating on the field, but naked and sweaty, groaning in need.

Though that didn’t change the fact he was there invisible; watching...just...watching. Like some dirty voyeur. Only his expression on his cloaked face was one of longing and jealousy. HE wanted that...

When he couldn’t watch anymore he sank to the dew damp grass, tentacles coiling up to conserve moisture, but also in aroused confusion. Mon dieu, he could still smell them, like some fine perfume. It was intoxicating! He growled softly, a shaky hand removing his water flask from his tattered pin stripe suit. Half of the water spilled down his face and chest as he tried to inhale a deep breath of it.

Dominique made it back to the canal edge closest to the barracks. He smoothly slid in and sunk to the bottom. The cool water washing through his system helped to douse the passion in his ‘groin’. Maybe...maybe being this ramped up he could achieve some kind of release. Maybe he could –

His train of thought scattered as a shot of pleasure ran through him. He writhed against the canal bottom, back arched to it. A hand instinctively felt downwards, discovering a firm but prehensile appendage – and it wasn’t one of his tentacles.

Seemed he wasn’t missing something after all.

It was incredible! Release him hard and fast as he quickly discovered how amazing it felt to wrap his soft suckers all along his erect length, pulsing and squeezing. He writhed in relief, a flurry of low churrrs and growls welling up in his throat. The appendage, which indeed felt and resembled a penis, had engorged to over three feet long. It must have been hiding up inside him, in some kind of sheathed slit...

“Ahhh...ahhhh...” He gasped, gills flaring wide, body limp with pleasure.

If nothing else, at least this was one thing he had regained control of.





[ Part 5 ]

Another thing Dominique really wanted…was a new suit.

His pinstriped jacket was torn and bullet hole riddled. He did not like looking so...shabby. He was a spy, not a hobo. And he did not want to be nude all the time, it was highly unprofessional. But most of all, keeping some semblance of humanity, of dignity, was something he was trying to cling to with all his might.

His team replacement that eventually came made for easy pickings. When he was comfortable enough with his ‘walking’ skills, he went for it. While the battle raged on outside during the day, the tentaspy slinked into the base, and snagged a fresh suit from the new BLU Spy’s closet with a curling tentacle.

Dominique took a look at the replacement Spy’s bed…

...that was his bed. Only a month ago, he would sleep there, dry and warm.

Dominique scowled, choking back emotion. He’d been getting a little more emotional then he was before - maybe it was hormone fluctuations, or the fact he was basically assumed dead and it didn’t matter anymore what outwards appearance he put on.

The pillow and blanket were snatched as well, they were his after all. BLU would replace them.

The pack of cigarettes on the dresser was left behind. He had kicked the habit in his physical ordeal the past month. During his attempts at walking up on dry land he had tried lighting up, stress smoking to ease his nerves – but as he exhaled he got a stinging pain in his gills and such a coughing fit it discouraged all thoughts of smoking again. He reluctantly, and quickly, had to quit cold turkey. With his gills connected to his lungs, exhaling made some air go out through them too. The delicate fimbriae seized like pouring salt in a wound.

He would miss those swirling little smoke rings he used to blow; nothing could compare to the ease on his nerves that nicotine provided...but he’d have find other things to fill the void; try to learn other ways to satisfy himself.

It was yet something else he had to give up.

...

Before heading back to the canal, the tentaspy swooshed into the kitchen like a low moving, tentacled panther. He used the spray wand from the sink to rewet his needy tentacles. He gave a happy, churrring groan of relief. He felt a webbed hand over them, slimy and smooth as they should be...

He was so occupied he almost did not hear the Engineer stumbling in from Respawn.

“Merde!”

Domi hissed to himself as he darted to the first out of the way place he could think of – the top of the fridge and cabinets. There was plenty of space between them and the ceiling to wedge himself. Being still, his faulty Cloak and Dagger worked to make him completely invisible.

It was Dexter…that was the Engineer’s name. He used to be his teammate.

He’d joke with him about sappers whenever they crossed paths in the showers. The man liked to pleasure himself while reading car magazines. He hated the smell of citrus, liked to play solitaire, always wore suntan lotion. These little things he liked to observe of people, when they didn’t know he was there.

If he knew he was alive, would he, or any of his team, still treat him like a teammate? Or would they shoot on sight, and finish the job BLU thought they accomplished?

“Well that’s a hell of thing….is the sink leakin’ again’?” The engineer finally noticed the wet floor. He had come in to grab a drink of water before heading back outside. He checked the sink pipes but all was in order. The Engineer shrugged, it wasn’t a huge deal. Domi sighed in relief as he left.

Better not risk it…he wasn’t in Respawn anymore.



[ Part 6 ]

Months turned into years.

Soon three had passed.

The crews shuffled. Contracts were fulfilled, people left, transferred, or were killed by faulty Respawn, and new people came over that time. Only a handful of members were left that would recognize Dominique if they saw him.

While he was good at hiding, there were times he was briefly seen. The results only backed up his fears. Rumors of a ‘tentacle monster in the canals’ became amusing bonfire tales for the teams. But no one really believed anything the drunk Demo, crazy Soldier, poor English speaking Heavy, or eccentric Medic said anyway.

The former spy kept up his love of observation. He’d become quite the voyeur, even more than he was before. It passed the time, kept him a part of things he had to leave behind. Now that he was ‘outside the system’ it was a whole new feeling. He’d hide in corners as long as his drying tentacles could stand. Thankfully, he could sip from his flask without making his faulty cloak flicker.

Dominique took notes on stolen journal paper, and would read them in a hidden, dry alcove deep in the drainage pipes. It was decorated with bits of things he’d take from the bases...anything to feel more human (Anything to remind himself he was human, to not let himself slip into an instinct driven routine).

He only used the alcove to spend time and store things; sleeping was done underwater, always.

His pillow was kept dry inside in a sealed plastic bag, it sat next to rounds for his revolver, and little things like magazines and empty pop bottles. He’d stack damp cards till they fell over, and then play solitaire with them. He’d try to make up new tricks flipping his balisong blade, draw into the concrete moss covered floor with his claws – all while slumped on his stomach with his tentacles draped into the water.

He tried to avoid spinning his revolver barrel idly; he might become tempted to use it.

...

The altered Spy didn’t notice at first how much he ate, but it was actually quite a lot...it was like his metabolism was high, or that he needed more energy to keep running all those tentacles. He also had taken notice of how his blood was slightly bluish. It made his skin ‘paler’, not the warm glow of human skin, more like that of a half drowned person with the red-blue mixed hue.

Dominique grew disenchanted with fish out of boredom, and he could only steal so much food before people took notice. He tried catching game outside the bases during the cool nights, or when it rained, venturing past the fence where the trains would come in. The trains were starting to come less frequently anyway.

Jackrabbits and wild foul made for interesting prey, and quite tasty ones at that. That was indeed a nice distraction, though one day he tried something else as his taste buds and energy-needy body grew hungry for variety.

The first time he plucked a body from the waters where it’d been blown he was disgusted at himself for feeling the urge to eat it, but found the taste…pleasant. He took to killing members he didn’t like, picking off RED’s and BLU’s alike, this lasted for only a few days, and the Spy was sure to kill swiftly and cleanly before he was really seen.

…he went back to fish and jackrabbits soon after.

If he let himself slip too far; he feared he really would become that monster.

...

The fifth year crept by.

Dominique had somehow avoided being discovered by the BLU scientists who wanted him as a science experiment. And, as of lately, they seemed to not be around much behind the scenes. It was like they were letting the mercenaries have more freedom in their spare time. Or they got the equipment working to their satisfaction, because Respawn was not frying as many people as it used to. It was a rare occurrence compared to when the Spy first came.

Or perhaps they just didn’t care.

Either way, the territory war went on. They still cared about that. The trains kept coming with supplies, and Dominique would watch them like a perched, invisible vulture up in the station rafters.

He would ride one out if he could, but there is no way he’d survive to civilization, or anywhere with water. There was nothing but half-deserted farmland and grassland as far as the eye could see. The closest, large river he could see was too far to walk to unless it was raining, if his tentacles could even carry him that far on the rough ground. He tired quickly supporting his weight on land if going more than a short distance.

...

It did not rain much, but Dominique loved it when it did.

Then he could stay out as long as he wanted, lungs and tentacles kept fully wet. It let him wander outside the fences to explore and hunt at his leisure.

The tentaspy had a venom he could inject into his prey, he had found this out in his first year, and now was a master of it. It was far more desirable than squeezing his prey to death in his tentacles, for the mouth feel of the muscles staying intact.

He found it amazing how he could eat all this raw food without getting sick; he had no doubt his body chemistry had changed for that. It reminded him of sushi, that clean, mild taste of fresh meat. It was wonderful how delicious plain, raw meat could taste...

A quick bite of his fangs, and jackrabbit stopped struggling within seconds. It was easy work for his claws and sharp teeth to skin and cut up the creature. He sometimes used his balisong to get a more precise cut, or just to feel more refined, feel more human even though no one was watching.

Picking flesh off the jackrabbit’s leg like it was a buffalo wing, Dominique lazed his tentacles over the nest he’d made in a high corner of the BLU base, which resembled a factory on the outside. A large, broken pipe made for a lovely high perch to watch people. He’d dragged fabric and grasses up there over the years, and with some jugs of water he could stay up there for hours even when it was not raining, as the padded scoop held water like a wading puddle to keep his tentacles moist.

With the bases rainy and the factory buildings lit up for the evening, it was actually rather beautiful.

It reminded him of Paris...be it a run down, industrial, rusty Paris (with a healthy dose of imagination). With all the little runner lights through the fog of the rain, he tried to picture the factory tower by RED Base as the Eiffel tower. Maybe if he squinted. The lit building and warehouse windows were like the city lights.

Trying to toss the rabbit bones into a rusty bucket on the next catwalk down, Dominique sighed and stared again at that distant river like he had many times before. He thought while idly flicking his balisong open and closed in a twirling motion.

CLICK, chink...CLICK, chink....Click click CHINK....

Maybe he really should try to make it to the ocean...maybe he could get to the Mediterranean, or the coast outside Europe. “That’s where you could go, back where you came from, yes?” He thought, “But that is very far...would you make it out there? How would you find your way?”

He’d traveled the world; he was not in need of sightseeing. It’d be no different than where he was right now. Even more dangerous as the open sea was unknown and vast.

Even if he could find his way back to Europe, he’d still be just as limited by his aquatic nature and faulty disguise kit, and he’d still be an invisible tentaspy spying on people. He couldn’t sit in his favorite corner café, he couldn’t woo anyone, and he couldn’t enjoy a glass of wine on a hotel balcony.

Besides, would Paris be...if he was alone?

...
...
...

((( Author’s note on some science about Domi’s blood and gills:

Dominique is half blue blooded because of having elements of the copper-bonded blood octopuses have alongside the iron-bonded blood of mammals. Octopus blood is a poor carrier of oxygen, which helps explain the animal's sometimes apparent laziness. But Dominique is a fairly active, half mammal. To cope, he has to take in more to have the energy to pump that blood at the high blood pressure level he needs, as he lacks the three hearts that octopus possesses to keep up THEIR blood pressure up. Domi’s blood though is good enough to carry the oxygen he needs as long as he has enough energy calories wise to support his body.

Dominique is also VERY efficient at oxygen exchange with his gills, he can take out much more oxygen with each breath then your average fish, as water to begin with has less dissolved oxygen in it then air. This is another reason why his lungs fail him on land. To begin with, he has decreased lung capacity as some alveoli in his lungs are missing to make room for clear water flow to the passages connected to his gills. Also to be able to be submerged in water for long period and not be damaged, his alveoli are amphibious. But also like a frogs skin, they can dry out and shrivel. When air is exchanged through the lung sacks, it slowly dries them out (this happens quicker in dry daytime air) and decreases their oxygen exchange efficiency.

But since Domi needs a lot of oxygen to support the muscular tentacles, he requires more than your usual human. With already decreased lung capacity and alveoli that lose effectiveness to begin with, this is why he begins to suffocate so fast without water input. If he was human with iron-blood and no oxygen-hungry tentacles, he could last far longer on land breathing wise with the same lung set. )))
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>> No. 9639
This fic updated, my night is now awesome.
>> No. 9644
Beautiful, absolutely beautiful. There are a few errors though, mostly misspellings and grammatical things. I'm assuming when you write "rouge spy" you mean "rogue spy"? Other than that, man this is awesome.
>> No. 9645
Lithe! You updated! I swear I should have my webcam turned on recording me whenever I see an unexpected update. I'm always so gleeful when you update.

Captcha, y u Greek letters?
>> No. 9655
Oh man wonderful update! It was very playful and fun, I very much enjoyed it.

Keep it up, Lithe!
>> No. 9670
Yes! Finally an update! I couldn't wait for this, this fic is so well written and has such a good plot... Dominique, the OTT (Original True Tentaspy)!
>> No. 9672
I know this just updated but I can't wait for the next update! This is one of my favorite fics, and while I liked parts of the original, I like every part of the rewrite!
>> No. 9705
Op I love you. That's all I just really love you. Tentaspy get's no real love outside of tentacle fetish and joke kind of stuff. This is the first seriouse story that is also very very well written. I can't wait for an update.
>> No. 9985
Thanks for the comments and help everyone <3 I fixed those mentioned errors in the main file. Next part will be sooner then this was to the last as it's like a second half of this part pretty much - but I broke it up to get more out to you sooner as I'm really busy atm.

Beta on this chapter done by The Warsager!

[ Part 29 ]

Lance tried to distract himself with work. Sparks ricocheted off his welding mask as he connected metal the sheeting of a sentry together. He couldn’t deny that all he wanted to do was peek into that infirmary, where he knew the docs were poking and prodding their captive. It made his chest ache knowing he couldn’t do anything...

“Lance - ”

A voice broke his concentration, causing him to scorch the gloved hand holding the metal component in place. “Jeezus William,” he flicked up his mask and shook his hand to cool the glove.

“Didn’t mess ya up did I?” The older engineer came closer, tone apologetic, but not being too showy about it, “You just seem mighty distracted. Somethin’ on your mind?”

“Jes, thinkin’ about that new build is all, your energy barrier,” he lied. “It’s fascinating, you gonna use that on the field?”

“I just gotta create something to control it, perhaps a remote of some kind.” the other replied, petting a hand over his chin. “I checked on the holding tank in the infirmary this mornin’, it’s holding stability jes fine.”

“Oh?” Lance perked up, curious for more information.

“Yea, the docs wanted me to oversee deactivating the field so they could take the BLU outta there for questioning.”

“You think an experiment would really have any good intel?” It put a sour taste in Lance’s mouth calling the former BLU Spy an ‘experiment’ – but it sounded like something someone might call him if they didn’t know any better.

“He’s a BLU Spy, he must know somethin’.” William went over to his work bench and got a pack of cigarettes out of the drawer.

“So...how did they get him out? Had to tranquilize him?” Lance questioned, though he knew what they MUST do.

“Yea, tranq dart...fella hisses like a snake and a lion combined. Then did that thing they did to him when they first brought him in, paralyzed him from the waist down so they could put him on a gurney - no other way I imagine.”

Lance swallowed, putting down his torch and removing his welding mask.

“You’ve been workin’ hard, want to come out back for a drink with me ‘n Roscoe?” William offered him a cigarette while he was at it, “I know you don’t really smoke, but not even occasionally?”

William did not seem chipper about the situation in the infirmary but it disturbed Lance how unfazed he seemed to be by it. William had always seemed very deadpan and calculated, as accustomed to death as any of them were, but perhaps more desensitized to it then most. And it scared Lance sometimes.

“I’ll come out back,” Lance waved a ‘no thank you’ to the cigarette as he followed alongside his comrade. He wanted to hear more about what was going on in the infirmary.

But at the same time he wasn’t sure if he should.

Roscoe greeted them he was already there with some beer bottles and an opener. Lance took one and sat on a raised crate. The trio of engineers talked about the tank build a bit even after completing a work they always thought about ways it could be improved or applies to future works. Roscoe seemed interested about the field generator much as Lance – maybe more so at that moment, the dirty blond engineer seemed a little quiet.

“Looks like rain.” The oldest Texan mentioned as he looked to the sky as they leaned against the wooden slats of the of the RED base’s wall. The air was getting humid – and foreboding clouds loomed in the distance of the flat landscape.

“We could use some rain around ‘ere.” Roscoe nodded, shaking his beer bottle to check how much was left.

“Fer us this ain’t too far from home, we’re used to this kinda weather and surroundings,” Lance piped up, “I wonder what our team mates who come from far away think a’ it.”

“Mercenaries don’t get homesick,” William stamped out his cigarette.

...

It was dark, and rain was just beginning to drizzle and hit the roof of the base. It looked like it could rain all night – maybe even be worse by daybreak. It made the air cool and humid, a strange way for the air to feel there.

The dripping of rain helped mask the sound of the engineer’s footsteps. It was late, almost midnight. He’d planned to check in at the crack of dawn like before, but he couldn’t wait. Not knowing what was going on was killing him.

Just a quick hello, then he could come back at day break.

Sneaking not quite as expertly as a spy the lone RED Engineer crept into the dim and empty infirmary.

They had a surgery chair out, set upright...so it was turned into an interrogation chair. Lance imagined what they had been using it for. However, while its padded surface was still glossy and wet, the Spy himself was no longer there. He was back in the secure tank.

Lance crept up, his eyes adjusting to the low light. He could see Domi was curled up on the bottom, his back to the glass, arms wrapped around himself but avoiding his gills.
He squatted down and looked him over; he must not realize yet he was there. Poor fella looked hunched and in pain, he thought, or perhaps just sadness? A hand was placed to the plexiglass, and still there was no response.

“Dominique?” The Texan finally whispered, knowing the other could hear through the water.

The figure in the tank jerked as if he were awoken from a desperate sleep, that or he was so on edge that any sound set him off. There was a pause and he turned his head around. He didn’t light up as animated as before, but it was obvious that the engineer’s presence was a sight for sore eyes.

Tentacles shifted under the spy, pulling him up to the surface so he could speak.

“Mon Cheri,” Domi said hoarsely, looking through the mesh at the engineer.

Lance stood up on the stool they were keeping by the tank, “Jeezus your voice,” He noticed right away. The man sounded like he’d been shouting all day or maybe gasping....or screaming.

Domi swallowed thickly, head leaning on his folded arms on that little shelf running around the tank’s inner rim. “Eet...might be better eef you come back tomorrow morning...like before.” He rasped, his words understandable but clearly pained.

“What they do to you?” The engineer realized after he said it that maybe asking questions to make him talk wasn’t a good idea.

The spy ducked his head under the water briefly, then was back up again, tapping a hand to his throat and chest, face crinkling up like he was sorry. A hand gestured against as close as he dared to the force field electrified mesh, claws curling inwards.


“So ya think you might be less hoarse by tomorrow, that what you tryin’ to say?” Lance questioned, worried. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning...like before, yea?”

The other nodded, giving a weak smile.

“I won’t make ya talk then...you...sure you’re alright?”

The spy gave a shallow sigh and nodded; yes, he was alright enough.

He bet Domi would hate to be belittled with worry, like it might make him feel* weak. But the Texan WAS worried...and it had nothing to do with weakness. He wanted to scoop up the man right then and there, comfort him and take him away from this place. It hurt to see him like this. He was just getting to know the man behind the mask and he already felt so strongly toward him. Why did he have to meet someone like this, in a place like this where he never would have suspected to find someone who cared for him and he back? Was he doing the right thing?

‘Don’t lie to yourself boy, you love him’, the Texan scolded himself in his mind. ‘And look at how he looks at you; you’re everything to him. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted in a man? Someone strong, educated, attractive, and loyal to you? Someone who you could put your trust in?’

Lance sank down to sit on the stool, peering into the dim water. Domi followed him, putting his hands to the glass, a longing face staring right back. He put his own hands up to meet the spy’s, sighing and cursing at himself for looking like a tangled mess of emotion. He leaned his head against the tank.

“It’ll be okay...alright?” the Texan spoke into the glass, eyes to the floor, “I don’t know how...but...it’ll be okay.”

...
...

The engineer left, and Domi collapsed limp to the bottom. He’d done his best to look strong for him, but his whole body felt drained and sore. To see the other’s worried expression energized him but at the same time he felt bad that he was putting Lance through all this. He never thought he could be captured as he’d always been so careful.

Domi managed to get to sleep in hopes that his voice would be back by dawn with a night of cool water flowing through him. He was glad to have his dreams back; sleeping above water on the table the nights were just dark and long.

Though sometimes his dreams were bittersweet. He did not mind the flashbacks to when he was a boy, or when his parents were killed by the Cosa Nostra, or even when he was a very young man just starting as a negotiator in the Unione Corse. They were in the past and done with, were as they always were. They were just paintings on a wall of a museum; they stirred emotions but in the end they were just something to reflect on.

It was when he dreamed of him as his current age, at the BLU and RED bases that he tossed and turned. This was his reality, his prison, where his life had been taken from him. He was reminded of what he lost, and how he’d come to live. Sometimes he was a third person view, watching himself, like how someone would watch a wild animal in a cage. Naked, crawling on hands and ‘knees’ up onto a riverbank to stalk prey, with dripping fangs and rattling voice. That was him. Why was it he only took such shame in it when looking in from the outside? Was this how others, how Lance, saw him too?

His dreams taunted him.

He dreamt he was a normal BLU Spy again, and taunted the RED Engineer, sapping his sentry and laughing as he flicked his cigarette into his dispenser. But he couldn’t kill him. He pressed him up into that warm dispenser, pushing a knee into the other’s groin, stroking a hand down his side and stealing a kiss. The Texan grabbed his ass, kissed back. He begged and asked for it, he wanted him, there was no hesitation.

Then as these things always make sense in dreams, it was another day and there was soft jazz music playing on a record player. He had a freshly washed suit on, the Engineer actually wearing a simple red button down. There was a bright moon out and the air was dry and warm. Domi reveled in the feeling of that dry, warm suit. He smirked and was then grabbed up by the shorter Texan – dancing. Dancing was so easy on two legs.

A tapping awoke him.
>> No. 9986
Hnnnnnnnnnnngh.
>> No. 9991
Such a cruel cliffhanger. I would actually love to see this entire story reposted on fanfiction.net. It's just so brilliant. One of my favourite stories ever, for sure.

Continue! Continue!!
>> No. 10035
I agree with the post above me. I'd love to have this on fanfiction only to have it forever and ever. Again can't wait for the next chapter.
>> No. 10420
My gosh, this is the best fic I've ever read with tentaspy, or with spy, or TF2 fanfic in general! This HAS to go on fanfiction.net, or stay on internet forever! IT IS TOO GOOD!
>> No. 10422
best fic HAS to go on fanfiction.net
I laughed. It was an ugly kind of laugh, though. In any case, I’m sure Lithe will post her fic to the online archives of her choice if and when she pleases.

Also, since I assume you’re new here, I’ll give you a bit of friendly advice: Type sage into the e-mail field when commenting on older threads to avoid bumping them. Bumping an old thread without providing new content is considered bad manners and might get you banned from the board.

And Lithe, we’re all waiting anxiously for the next part. Your fic IS the best. Please keep up the good work!
>> No. 10423
54
I HOPE YOU DIE IN A FIRE. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW.
>> No. 10426
I agree with 55. I don't care about where this is archived. Fanficition is just one of the archives out there. As long as this is some how perminatly on the internet forever. Also 54 you jerk I thought the story updated.
>> No. 10427
I'm crying.

I thought this was finally updated.
>> No. 10430
Oh god. Please sage in the future. We all love this fic, but no one likes to see their favorite fic on the front page, only to find out that it is not updated.
>> No. 10448
Oh someone did not sage, whoops! Next chapter has been done for a week just waiting for proofing / beta to be done, so expect an update tomorrow night if all goes well. Been busy!

In the meantime (and making this message worth the bump - ) suffice with these (warning fluffy) fanservice pics I took with Drillbot at Katsucon Feb 18. Anyone who recalls the pre-rewrite fic will know the significance of the bridge: http://lithefider.tumblr.com/post/17980233254/you-shall-now-be-killed-with-cuteness-of-me-and (Click the thumbs to make them larger)

To answer questions - For secondary posting places - the fic was being mirrored on Y! galley but that is down too for now, so I'll make a whole separate side tumblr blog to post chapters for it or something, not a big deal. I CAN'T post it on FF.net cause of the sex, they technically don't allow NC-17 writing, only up to 'R' now. Also thanks so much for the comments I love hearing from readers, be it praise, constructive crit or anything.

Thanks! :)
>> No. 10463
As promised! Beta by Warsager.

[ Part 30 ]

Dominique was greeted through the plexiglass by a strong-jawed Texan - out and about before the crack of dawn and smiling hopefully in regards to the aquatic captive feeling better then the night before.

Domi shook off his dream, stretching and yawning out a breath of water. Reality, yes, unfortunately this was the real world. Tired, hungry, naked and still a monster trapped by RED. At least the part of a smiling lover being there was real. He smiled back, coming up close to the glass.

The engineer tapped his own throat asking ‘How do you feel?’ in gesture. Domi swallowed and felt at his neck. It WAS less sore, thank goodness. His face reflected the feeling, nodding.

Lance jumped up on the stool and Domi heard a key in the lock as the humming of the force field shut off. He was up and above the water in a shot –letting air into his lungs to allow him to speak. There was the sound of his throat clearing- “Good morning, Cher,” he tested. Still a little hoarse, but it did not hurt to talk any more.

“You sound better!” The Texan drawled with relief, also sounding impressed, “Got over what happened so fast.”

“Mostly better...oui. Just a leetle sore.” He smiled weakly, clearing his throat again. Domi was no fool – “You must wonder what ‘appened...” He stated, leaning out on the edge of the tank.

Lance now could see bruising on his torso. He was not surprised at the forward answer, seemed like the spy’s style. It took him a moment to formulate a reply, “Course I do, I jes, didn’t wanna make you say something you didn’t wanna repeat.” the engineer said, petting the other’s arm.

The touch was leaned into and met with an approving sigh, so Lance put his head on Domi’s shoulder, hugging both large hands up to his lover’s neck. That helped to calm the spy’s nerves immensely. Lance deserved to know and the tentaspy had no major reservation to repeat it beyond feeling shame at his situation.

So he began talking, explaining the day before like someone talking about a day at the office, like a detached professional.

“Eet was actually most ‘typical’ yesterday; I was treated like a captive wanted for intelligence. Of course I ‘ave none to tell, but they questioned me, tortured me...and I thank your docteur; he ‘eld ze other back. But of course, besides interrogation, ze medic wanted to perform more tests on my limits.

“So they denied me water to see how long I’d last. I was left in ze chair, restrained. Of course, I started suffocating. I really did not know ‘ow long I would last before I passed out, I’d never tested myself that far. I was gasping and ‘olding onto consciousness far longer then even I expected – I was getting just enough oxygen to stay alive for a time, but eet was not pleasant. Eet felt...like how people with asthma sound, or like someone weeth a knee to your chest and a tightening grip around your throat.

“Ze Medic brazenly released my binds...and even disconnected ze paralysis IV as eet was ze end of ze night. He taunted me as I struggled to move, and fell out of ze chair. My tentacles were paralyzed of course, as the IV medicine takes a while to wear off. I was free... but couldn’t do anything.

“After that eet’s a little fuzzy... but I woke up in ze tank. They must ‘ave put me in after I blacked out and revived me weeth ze medigun, as long as I still had a flicker of life ze medigun would work.”

Domi ducked under the water to wet his throat, coming back with a sigh.

“Geezus,” Lance said as the other finished. He didn’t quite know what to say; he had no control over what had happened nor could anything he say make it better. He felt helpless. And that made him angry. “Bastards...I’m sorry.” He growled in a sigh, leaning on the tank edge where Domi had been before.

“Don’t look sad. ’aving you ‘ere makes eet better.” The former BLU smirked, giving a slow, purring kiss to his Texan love’s stubbly cheek.

“I ‘ave good news though. Well...good and bad.”

“Anythin’ sounds good if you give me an intro like that,” Lance groaned into the touch.

The spy chuckled then explained, “Good news; ze medics will only be in ‘ere briefly today – because your ‘Doc’ must transfer all ze team’s personale files to Eppelheim’s care. Teach him all of ze protocol. This is because I overheard that ze supply train is coming tomorrow.

“But your Doc is leaving sooner then expected. That ze bad part.”

“Shit! So soon?” Lance rubbed a hand over his velveteen hair. That was BAD. Who knew what the new medic would do with the old doc gone? He thought they had at least another week.

“Oui...I am looking forward to ze day of rest though.” A day of rest before anything worse could happen.

In his pause, Domi stopped to listen. That sound outside was familiar. He smelled at the air.

“Domi?” Lance asked.

“Eet’s raining!” He answered, quite sure now.

“Ah it is, started last night.” Lance replied, seeing the spy light up and wondering for a moment why he seemed so delighted by this. Wait, how stupid of him to have to think about it. “Ahh of course you’d like the rain! Must let you stay on land longer, yea?”

The tentaspy nodded, “Especially for my lungs. I always love eet when eet rains.” It was sad that on one of the rare occasions it rained around those parts he was stuck in the RED infirmary in a cage. He slumped and growled in frustration.

His grumpy face was too much and the engineer couldn’t help a groaning chuckle as he pet over his arm. He decided to try and distract him with questions that were now gnawing at him. “So when you go out on land, is it hard for you? I assume you can walk decently enough as when you were disguised. I couldn’t tell the difference. Most I ever saw of you ‘walking’ was when I caught you attacking Spah and ...” He grinned nervously, remembering that he had shot Dominique and forgot that fact until he began mentioning the event.

Domi remembered the incident, especially the bullet, digging it out at least. “I hold no ‘ard feelings for that, Cheri. Please theenk nothing of eet.” He pointed to his shoulder where there was no mark as he’d healed it up in short time with a medkit he had stolen. “And oui, I can walk on land decently enough. I don’t like to walk fully upright for long periods; the higher I stand on my tentacles the ‘arder eet is. But I ‘ave learned a decent way of getting around.”

He glanced over the side of the tank like he was considering the distance.

“I still feel a lil guilty fer shooting you, but thanks.” The engineer replied, stepping off the stool after seeing that Domi was leaning very far out, “You thinking of coming out? The sun isn’t even fully risen yet and you said th’ docs will be gone most of the day, ya got time.”

“I ‘ate to waste a rainy day. Ze cameras won’t see any of this anyway long as we keep to ze back.” He pointed as he ‘straddled’ the lip of the tank, tentacles seeking the floor like someone carefully toeing into a hot bathtub.

Lance looked where Domi was pointing. Indeed there was one of the many security cameras, he actually had never noticed the one in the infirmary before. He suddenly got a pang of dread; what if they’d seen him helping what looked like a BLU?!

“You said they won’t see? You mean that camera is not on?” He swallowed.

“Calm yourself,” Domi gestured, then used his hands to hold onto the tank lip as he turned backwards. “Far as I know, all ze cameras in ze bases are non-operational. Only ze ones on ze field work. I guess they stopped caring what ze men did after hours as long as the job was getting done. That or they got tired of watching all the gay sex.” He smirked, as HE knew everything that had been going on at the bases for the past 6 years. “Far as I know you men assume they all work.”

Domi suckered down the side of the tank; the powerful grip of his many suckers, especially the largest ones on the smooth glass, easily supported his weight. Stretched out it was easy to glimpse his injured tentacle, severed by Eppelheim. It was re-growing, but still had over 2 feet to go.

The floor came up under him, his body sinking down into the mass of tentacles as he settled. As soon as all his tentacles were off the glass he brought them up under himself and rolled into a ‘standing’ position, getting to eyelevel with Lance. At that height it was easy to balance but when taller it could be more tiring.

Lance watched. God the way he moved was so strange. Strange, but fascinating; so many limbs everywhere, moving smoothly and rolling with pure muscle. He couldn’t help but take notice of one seeking along the floor, reaching towards his position like it could sense him. It touched his foot and twitched like a blind man having found what he’d been looking for, then coiled around his ankle with assured confidence like it was pleased. Lance didn’t stop it, but he kept an eye on it.

Domi had not taken notice of the stray tentacle acting on its own; he was more concerned with making sure his tentacles were supporting his weight correctly. They’d been paralyzed most of the day before and he’d had to deal with that terrible burn of their nerves reconnecting through the night. The fact he was tired and undernourished wasn’t helping either. He wobbled a bit, his many limbs adjusting as he stumbled.

“Ya got that?” The engineer put his hands up, but Domi caught himself.

“Ah oui,” Domi did put a damp hand to his shoulder for some support though. “I feel naked weethout my gear...” ‘and clothes’ he thought, as he rubbed his wrist where a cloaking watch usually was. There was a small tan line showing that it was indeed a usual fixture.

“but I think they got yer clothes over here actually,” Lance put up a hand, going to the medic’s desk. The stray tentacle had to release him as he ran off. Indeed, there was Domi’s folded clothes, and gear, on a table by the recovery beds. They were handed to their owner, who got to putting them on.

He’d replaced this current set about a year ago, his clothes wore out fast being constantly wet and dragged over concrete, dirt, grass and the occasional self inflicted claw rips. He would always steal from the current BLU spy if he needed clothes. Even so, this pair was starting to look worn; there was a rip in the shoulder where he’d been shot, scuffs on the edges of the vest, dulled colors from silt and dirt. It made him sigh inwardly with shame and disgust. While he tried to keep looking nice as much as possible for his own pride, he let it go further then he’d have liked had he expected to be seen as his true self so closely...

It still felt good to be mildly presentable again, and Domi straightened his posture with approval as he was buttoning his vest.

Lance couldn’t deny it was nice to see him back in his clothes. Attractive as his torso was, he loved a man in a vest and tie. It wasn’t his own usual style, but he liked it on others. It was sophisticated and sexy. Also he could guess how much being well dressed meant to spies. To be stripped of that and treated like an animal in a cage was especially demeaning.

Lance indeed noticed how his clothes were stained and worn, but he could imagine how hard a life he must lead. It didn’t bother him none. He was usually covered in oil and grease himself, Domi looked downright wedding formal compared to him on a workday.

“You look great,” Lance came in close to tighten up his tie for him, tentacles made way for the close figure like scattering fish, then slowly went back to settle in around him.

“Merci...” He sighed, ‘Great by bushman standards maybe...’. All the same, he pet his hands up and kissed at the other’s forehead. A contented purr rolled out of his chest.

Lance embraced him back, kissing his cheeks and near his mouth. The spy helped him out and full on kissed him without hesitation. As they explored one another, Domi’s tentacles were not left out as they coiled loosely about the engineer, some snaking up his legs. To Lance, the feeling was still alien; soft, wet, pulsing and strange. But more and more he was coming to associate it with the touch of a lover, and then it didn’t seem so unfamiliar.

“Look at you purrin’ like a Plymouth Barracuda,” The engineer chuckled.

“I got to drive an imported one of those in England.” Domi whispered back not missing a beat.

“A Formula 'S' V8?” Lance said between mouthing at the Frenchman’s neck.

“Commando 273 engine, definitely felt like more then the posted 235 hp...”

“Nngggg,” The other started nipping lightly at his cool flesh.

“Cher...you’ll...” He gasped and moaned, biting his lip. By the second gasp his sore throat seized as it recalled the dry, breathless horror of the previous day, and he began coughing. Not quite at 100% again.

“Merde!” Domi hissed, inhaling hoarsely like someone with an asthma attack. He fumbled over to the infirmary sink and slumped right onto it, turning on the faucet full blast. He inhaled water thickly from the tap – it gushed from his suit’s sides, causing a wicking of wet to appear. Turning off the faucet, he remained there as he caught his breath.

Lance couldn’t help but feel guilty even though it had not really been his fault. He put a caressing hand to his lover’s back as he quieted down, “Better git ya out in the rain, yea?”

“Oh Cher...” He hunched up tighter over the sink, tentacles doing similarly in coils, “I’d give anything...to be the whole man you deserve...” He whispered.

“Babe?” He only heard mumbling as the spy’s face was right in the basin.

“Just clearing my throat,” Domi took a deep breath as he used his hands to help push himself back up. He leaned into his engineer, who helped him stabilize. “Alright – let’s venture out quickly before we run out of time,” He said as he clicked his cloaking watch on.

There was a shimmer of the air and the spy was gone as he came off of Lance. Long as he didn’t make contact with anyone he’d remain fully invisible.

“Better safe than sorry, yea.” The engineer nodded, carefully opening the infirmary’s door so they could go and creep out the base’s back entrance.

“Okay,” The spy whispered, signaling from the hall he was through the door.

As they got out back, thankfully with no surprises, the sky was light with dawn but things were overcast and hazy. It was drizzling, warm, thick and slow. Domi’s form was revealed by the drops hitting him, but if he stood still and low in the shadow of the building a passerby would have missed him. They crept behind some shipping crates. No one else was up yet, as expected of a Sunday. Taking more careful looks around, Lance gestured that the coast was clear.

Domi flickered into view, the rain hitting him painted him back into existence. Lance patted down his own clothes, surrendering to the fact he’d be soaked by the time their outing was done. It was warm weather at least.

“Mmmm,” Domi hummed, turning his face up into the rain, parting his mouth and slicking his curly hair back. His tentacles relished the soft earth, the damp grass. He took in the fresh air and sky again. Breathing was so pleasant with the air humid like this.

“Ya look so content,” Lance said, hands coming to the other’s waist.

“I ‘ave two of my favorite theengs....rain, and you.”

Lance mentally melted under the blatant compliment, giving the spy’s hips a playful push like he was too much. The effect seemed to ripple down through his limbs, which adjusted constantly keeping his balance and position. Webbed hands repositioned the Texan’s larger ones, one to the small of his back, the other taken up in palm. The arrangement was mirrored; a positioning perfect for ballroom dancing.

Dominique swayed his shorter lover, limbs falling together and they swung around gently to the sound of dripping water against wood and metal. It wasn’t quite the same but this…

…this was like a dream.

“Now if only we had some music,” The engineer said, leaning his head onto the other’s shoulder.

...

“Derik!” A French accent hissed.

“Shut yer gob, I’m concentrating,” The bushman replied, his gun in pieces on a table in front of him as he cleaned the trigger mechanism.

“You must be ze only man who counts gun cleaning as post-coitus activity,” The half-dressed RED Spy grumbled as he came over from the window he’d been perched at and grabbed the wrist of the Australian.

He was thrown off, “If ya make me slip up I swear t’god - ”

“You can punish me later, shhhh,” He pulled the lanky man over to the opposite window that faced the back of the building. The Sniper had clear views all around from his nest up high in RED base. “Look.”

There down below, just visible behind some shipping crates, was the forms of their stout engineer and their tentacled BLU captive - slow dancing together.

“He’s escaped?!” He held onto his hat.

“Sort of,” The Spy smirked, “Seems zhey are getting more adventurous.”

“You don’t look too worried, or surprised.” The Sniper eyed him.

“We’ve come to...an understanding I theenk. Besides, he’s way down there,” He aimed his Ambassador, peering down the long barrel at the figures below “And I’m way up ‘ere.”

“Are they...doing wot it looks loike?” The sniper squinted as he grabbed a spare scope from his supply bag and took a second look. Indeed, clear through the high mag scope he could see them making out. “Holy Dooly.”

The RED Spy lowered his gun. “Indeed, Mon Cher, they are doing exactly what they look like.” He gave the Australian an ass squeeze en route to the Sniper’s bed.

The sniper stifled a surprised noise, but chuckled low. The spy was a bloody troll but he must like something about it or they’d not be spending so much time together. The sniper watched while his comrade brought back his record player, “Now wot’re you up to?”

“They can’t dance weethout music. Doesn’t seem proper.”

...

Suddenly the tentaspy and engineer stopped.

Over the sound of the rain they could distinctly hear...music.

Soft jazz to be specific. ( http://youtu.be/-RN3uFAT2sk )

“Are you ‘earing that too?” Domi whispered, cowering closer to the shipping crate like he felt they were being watched.

Lance looked all around, ears trying to hear the direction of the sound. He glanced up, and there waving in the open top window of the base was their spy and Sniper – a record player perched on the windowsill.

The engineer relaxed; the red Spy already knew all about what was going on and had not made any move to say anything. What was with that expression, he didn’t know whether the Spy was mocking them or encouraging them.

Lance motioned to Domi, and pointed up high. “Yer ‘friend’ is providing the music.”

Domi carefully peeked in the direction Lance was looking. His face fell into a sarcastic stare at the smirking face up there in the window. But the smooth sound of soft jazz was something he could never stay tense overhearing. Why not take advantage of this, teasing as it might be.

He scooped his engineer, still looking up at his ‘rival’, and smirked back as they began dancing again, this time with proper accompaniment.

“Least he has a good taste in music,” Domi said, “Jazz is my favorite.”

“Lucky guess on his part,” Lance pushed up into the other, “I like some jazz too.”

“The soul of jazz came from your country after all,” Domi dipped him shallowly, tentacles supporting behind the Texan.

“Not from MY part’a the country,” The Texan laughed, getting into it, and not caring about his wet clothes clinging to his body as he was dipped as ‘gracefully’ as a rotund short Texan could be, “Don’t mean I don’t appreciate it.” He lowered his voice as the Spy’s face was so close to his.

“Of course,” Domi shushed, kissing him with slow, wanting lips.

His body was so warm, god he tasted so good...

The song drifting over the rain was just the right speed, sensual and slow but not without a melodic trumpet carrying the tune steadily like a poem. Dominique never thought he’d have this again, a willing lover to hold, to kiss affectionately. Someone he could be himself around, in every respect. Someone who made his body come alive. He could really scarcely believe it.

Was he still dreaming?

Water dripped off his hooked nose as he withdrew to nuzzle and kiss at any part of the engineer he could reach. The shorter man groaned and held tighter around his vest. Tentacles helped pull him back to upright, stocky body right into Domi’s broad chest.

Lance was thinking how he never realized how sensual jazz could be instead of just background music for detective movies. In the hands of someone who really knew it’s soul, and dancing with a lover, it was turning him on terribly – not that the talented lips of the Frenchman couldn’t do that on their own.

The longer he spent with the strange Spy, the less he thought about his unusual anatomy and the less it worried him. The only thing left chewing at the back of his mind was the little jest their RED Spy brought up about if Domi had ‘male equipment’ as it were. Lance couldn’t deny, he was attracted to men for many reasons, a certain male part being a big one. Would it be a deal breaker? To be honest, he didn’t think so, but it was a bridge he’d have to cross when he got to it.

That wasn’t at the forefront of his mind though as he stroked his hands along the Spy’s smooth vest backing and they ground and swayed their bodies against one another.

...

“Oh now we’re peeping toms too, as well as traitors, ‘ND enablers.”

“Derik, pleasseee.” The spy waved a hand, “We’re peeping toms by profession. Don’t tell me you’ve never caught someone doing anything naughty through that scope of yours and not stopped to watch.”

The sniper couldn’t refute that. He grunted and looked back to the soaked couple down there, quite absorbed in each other. “I’m keepin’ my eye on botha them.”

“I’ve got eet covered. First sign that monster BLU is lying that ‘e isn’t connected to BLU anymore, I’m taking care of theengs myself.”

“What if he’s really tellin’ the truth and isn’t a BLU anymore?”

“Still got to keep an eye on ‘im,” Raimund flicked away his spent cigarette into the rain, “There is more than one way to stab a man’s ‘eart.”

...

The rain scene was inspired to be written by this song: http://lithefider.tumblr.com/post/8953984230/sash-feat-stunt-raindrops-encore-une-fois
>> No. 10464
Your writing has gotten a lot better with the aid of betas. However, one major criticism I have throughout the fic is that you have a problem with telling instead of showing. Dialogue is useful, but, Domi spouting off about how he was tortured just doesn't seem natural. Most people who were tortured, especially to such an extent, would not be keen on talking about it. A flashback would have, perhaps, been more appropriate.

Also, putting links in the middle of a fic is kind of a no-no. Put links in the author's notes at the beginning, so they don't throw off the story, itself.

My biggest disappointment has to be (and, I predicted this would happen) that Lance seems to have completely forgiven Dominique for raping him (and, before this argument starts again, yes, it was rape). I could see a real, reasonable person being put off by Domi's mistreatment and releasing him, yes - but, not falling in love. In fact, it seems like realistic characterization has been bent over backwards to ensure that, no matter what, Domi and Lance find ~true love~.

It still feels like a schoolgirl romance to me, as well, where Lance really doesn't act like a man. Having him obsess over manly things like muscle cars does not mean he -acts- like a man. Even gay men are still men, and very few of them act like Lance does, let alone in the 60s.

I know it sounds harsh, but, my honest opinion is that you maybe should have shot for porn without plot, because the porn gets the most attention to detail.

I am now bracing myself for the white knighters.
>> No. 10466
I have to say it feels very unnatural that Domi is doing squat about Eppelheim. Even if he wasn't insane and the one who transformed Domi, he's still an ex-BLU employed by RED through trickery and a danger to the other members of RED. Including Lance.

I must also agree that it was disappointing to learn about Domi's torture through a summarization instead of a flashback or something. And he was also pretty chatty for someone who was under so much psychological strain all day. You have way too much telling going on, and not enough showing.

I don't know, it just seems Domi should be trying to reach out to other RED members, warn Lance so they can do something about Eppelheim, and earn RED's trust.

Lance also seems not that concerned about Domi being captive, not trying to sway other RED members that he's not an enemy. He told Spy, but only because he caught Lance making out with Domi.

Lastly, stemming from the 'telling' is you do too much head-hopping. You write what both Lance and Domi are thinking in the same chapter/section of chapter. One needs to stick to a single POV, otherwise this exacerbates the too much "telling" in a story.

I do like the way you describe things, I can clearly see scenes in my head. You just need to channel that into more active language, rather than passive.

I hope you don't find this discouraging, because I would love to read more and see you improve.
>> No. 10468
eh I think it was a fair critique and put into words a few things that were bugging me too. Er I don't want this to be all 'okay everyone pile on LF now!' but I wanna add my 2 cents because I do like your work.

I think Domi and Lance are cute, I love the couple, but the story definitely has that feeling of wanting a sweet, happy romance along with angst (two great tastes that taste great together, but very hard to pull off), but the two parts aren't quite... mixing, you know?

What is the purpose of the torture scenes at this point and all if it really isn't doing much, in the scheme of things, to get in the way of Domi and Lance's relationship? It just felt like an aside that made Domi a bit hoarse. There's been no feeling of real danger or obstacle.

It feels like a better angle might be to focus entirely on the angst and struggle rather than mixing in the happy romance at this point. Internal struggles like maybe Lance trying to figure out 'hey do i REALLY love this monster guy who sort of raped me', along with Domi's struggle to maintain his humanity, the struggle to escape somehow... and THEN (maybe) we get more of the happy fluffy romance as 'reward'?

It's just the story has become 'okay they love each other, cool, when can they conveniently escape and live happily ever after' and that's kinda... eh.
>> No. 10469
I loved the dancing scene. I have a huge soft spot for dancing and I love jazz's atmospheric qualities. I'd say something to help you write but I'm not very good at that so I'll leave my post as a compliment and a sign of support.
>> No. 10470
I really love this fic, especially the re-write, but I think I'm with Bad Medicine on this latest segment. The part with the RED Spy and Sniper tittering and providing music seemed a little schmaltzy and out of character for everyone involved. I think the scene would have benefited greatly without their inclusion.

I don't want this to sound super negative, though! I love every time this fic is updated, I just feel that this particular segment isn't up to par with the high quality that the other updates have been.
>> No. 10486
I can see all your worries about ‘this are too easy’ when you say it that way (you all made valid points, looking in from the outside from your comments I can see that now). But what you don’t seem to see is this is the eye of the hurricane. I thought I’d made that apparent with the allusions in the chapter to this chapter being ‘like a dream’ and ‘too good to be true’ in how the characters were thinking, also there is the foreshadowing of RED Spy’s last statement, Domi’s thoughts of ‘a time to rest before worse things’, and the knowledge of Eppleheim having full reign of the infirmary in 24 hours.

As a story device, I wanted Domi and Lance to have a little more bonding time, something to show their connection beyond just physical attraction, to show how well they can click, to make it even remotely realistic later for Lance to even be seen considering staying by Domi’s side when their bond is REALLY tested. (Also to the Anon bringing up about "Internal struggles like maybe Lance trying to figure out 'hey do i REALLY love this monster guy who sort of raped me', along with Domi's struggle to maintain his humanity" Oh yes that is coming too - I have plans. You are very right! )

Because let me tell you, they are NOT on easy street, they are fooling themselves to the wall of the hurricane about to slam into their backsides.

In regards to them acting too ‘girly’ still, I can see that especially with the tone of this chapter (points again to above to explain part of it). I thought I’d improved on that since LAST time, but if I’m slipping again I’ll try and I’ll keep watch on that for future chapters and my beta readers will too. I’m not a man; don’t pretend to think like one, even as a lesbian, beyond being frank and sexually forward – so advice on how I can ‘improve the man thinking nature’ of my boys would be great. :’D My skype is lithefider and I’d be happy to discuss in-depth as you want, I’d rather not clutter up this thread too much if things really gotta be elaborated on.

“The part with the RED Spy and Sniper tittering and providing music seemed a little schmaltzy and out of character for everyone involved.” I saw that as RED Spy and sniper being perfectly IN character for them, being teasing trolls they are, and meddling peeping toms as a Spy and a Sniper. Also this was meant as a sign of their growing support for possible future allies (as stated by a comment about ‘why doesn’t Domi try to turn some RED’s to his cause’ – this part of the chapter was meant to allude to that).

In regards to “Domi not doing anything a bout Eppleheim”, trust me he will. But this chapter and the last was about him and the engineer, with all the plot-needed torture to come I didn’t wan to desensitize the reader / slow things down with a (plotwise) unimportant torture session so I used it as a drama device for the reader to see in from Lance’s perspective on the outside not knowing exactly what happened at first.

In regards to that, with Domi “so easily talking about it” – I apologize I did not better explain WHY it was so easy for him to talk like that. I mentioned in his dream sequence last chapter: “He did not mind the flashbacks to when he was a boy, or when his parents were killed by the Cosa Nostra, or even when he was a very young man just starting as a negotiator in the Unione Corse. They were in the past and done with, were as they always were. They were just paintings on a wall of a museum; they stirred emotions but in the end they were just something to reflect on.”

If I was to add something (and will now to the main story file) it would be to elaborate on his mentioned previous job experience – he was a negotiator for the French Mafia starting before he was 18 (he was adopted by the Mafia pretty much), and often relayed information as an intelligence scout. He was desensitized to talking about violence from a young age about things he’d seen or experienced. To talk about it for him, was easy on that level of his past experience, talking about it made it like it was something he SAW, so he could put himself out of the equation, for him to just flatly relay it back was better then for him to flash it back through is memory vividly.

On a character level, Domi wanted Lance to know, to really know what he is going through, and he didn’t want to sugar cote it because he knew Lance could handle it, because they are mercenaries (Domi way more so then Lance even.)

I hope that clears up a few things and I’ll keep watch on everything brought up (especially more ‘showing and not telling’ and ‘keeping a level of how men act’) – taking into consideration what I can do to make the fic better characterization/plot, but also keeping the tongue in cheek writing style and my vision for the fic ( ‘can’t please everyone’ has to apply at some point, sorry guys.).

Thanks!
>> No. 10488
Small note: You should have had Domi just say, "That or they got tired of watching all the sex.” instead of "gay sex" because you get that 'but there are no women on the b- OHHHH.' reaction from the reader.
>> No. 10498
Agreeing with 68 here. Spy saying "watching all the gay sex" sounds a bit... out of character, to me.
On a side note, i absolutely love you. So much.

(heh, im #69)
>> No. 10499
>>68 PPffttt YES lol, how did I miss that? Editing it in the original right now (cause just saying it the other way is indeed more effective).
>> No. 10505
I love it when an author acknowledges critique.

You're awesome, Lithe. Please continue with this amazin' story.
>> No. 10506
>>71
Acknowledging critique is worthless. It's actually putting it to use that counts.
>> No. 10507
Long-time lurker, long-time reader, very-rarely-found poster here. Greetings. I see that the epicness has been continued. I agree that the characters (Lance especially) has been acting rather girly, but given your explanation of the eye of the hurricane and whatnot, I can understand how he would be reasonably relaxed and calm, which mixed with budding romance can be mistaken for girliness. I am very, very eagerly awaiting your next update!

Captcha: tentacle eedblems
Ooh... psychic captcha.
>> No. 10513
God, I love this fanfic... I'm just rolling in an ocean of emotions over here.
Can't wait to see it update.
>> No. 12566
I’m not dead (Nor have I forgotten about Domi and Lance)! And I want to apologize for the nearly 5 month long wait to continue. I’ve been VERY busy, and role-playing, and sewing, and traveling. Also okay, I had a little writers block, but talked with a friend a month ago who gave me some good ideas on where to connect the things I want to in the plot. So here is a new chapter and a promise I’ll actually finish this fic. :)

Also I’d check out the tentaspy tag on my blog for some really great new cosplay photos, re-blogged art, and other fun wtfery: http://lithefider.tumblr.com/tagged/tentaspy

[ Part 31 ]

Dawn had broken, which was signal to get inside before everyone was out and about. They eventually retreated to the infirmary to clean up like there was never a wet tentaspy on the floor.

The two mercenaries were left understandably aroused from their outing...but were conflicted to do anything about it at risk of being caught ‘with their pants down’ if the medics decided to come in unexpectedly. Not to mention the physical barrier of unknowns that still stood between them if they got further then they already had – it wouldn’t make things fast or smooth. They both thought this but did not say it openly. They were walking on eggshells with their meetings, and they knew it.

“Shit,” Lance cursed suddenly, watching Dominique undress so he could go back into the tank. His clothes were WET, that isn’t how they were before. If they folded them and put them back where they’d been earlier they’d still be wet, and if someone noticed...

“What?” Dominique jerked his head up, hearing the urgency in his voice.

“I was planning on using a towel to sop up all the water you trailed everywhere but what about yer clothes?”

“Merde,” Domi understood now, as he wrung out his button-up into the sink. His fully exposed frills twitched with annoyance. He groaned and leaned over the basin, feeling like a disgrace to spies everywhere for letting his want to see the sky and walk around with another man like a clothed human being cloud his thinking.

“I could pop’em in the dryer real fast,” The engineer offered.

“You can’t tumble dry a VEST of this quality,” Domi grumbled, holding it out anyway, “At least you shouldn’t...”

“Maybe on low?” The Texan had figured you couldn’t do that to fancy dry clean only clothing but what other choice did they have? He backed it up with a sarcastically hopeful smirk.

Dominique was growing weary of life reminding him at every turn how pathetic his existence had become. He wanted so badly for something to go right, he just didn’t know yet how that would occur. At any moment they could be caught, Lance could be fired or worse...and Domi was putting his money on worse. (And if let go, how in the world would he find him?) He wanted what was best for the engineer, he loved him...but he was also selfish enough to be unable to admit that might be not being with him.

Domi looked so frustrated, thought the engineer. Understandable, but he wished there was something he could do. Sadly, his practical problem solving couldn’t fix everything. Lance shifted as tentacles eagerly coiled up his legs while Domi went back to wringing his clothes out. It seemed every time he was within range nowadays, they’d seek out contact with him like he was a familiar friend. Lance leaned over and picked one up. It reacted instantly, twitching and seeking anchor around his arm as it was pulled into mid air. Even with Domi distracted they acted with minds of their own, and that fascinated the engineer.

Dominique continued to be shocked at how the engineer was warming up to his touch. It had been gradual, but steady. He turned, putting down his damp shirt and smiling as he consciously pet the appendage up to the Texan’s collarbones and neck. He could taste his sweat even on his damp skin washed by the rain. His taste re-sparked arousal in him, everything about the stocky man switched on his senses. He wanted more of him in his grasp. Hell, he wanted all of him, entire naked body covered in every sucker...

The engineer pulled the spy over so he could kiss him. It was merely a continuation of what they’d paused from doing dancing in the rain.

“Mmmmm,” The spy groaned into the other, wrapping arms and tentacles around him, “Cher, I’ve just been trying to calm down,”

“I know much as you how every minute I spend with you in here is a risk...” Lance said seriously, “And I know it’s gettin’ early...jes...geezus everythin’ we’ve been doing has been teasing for more.” The engineer’s voice was low, “And I’m not afraid to go further. I NEED to go further...”

The tentaspy inhaled then exhaled with a rattling sound, full of lust and confliction at the other’s statement spoken into his lips.

Why...why must life mock him? Oh god he wanted him, and Lance consented that he wanted more. Much as he knew the Germans weren’t supposed to be in until later... the stress of knowing they were vulnerable would mean it would be hard to enjoy something that should be sensual and slow. He wanted it to be a good experience, pleasurable and intimate. The last thing he wanted was to fly off the handle like he did on the RED Spy, and hurt Lance.

“Cher, I want you more then you know,” Domi groaned back, tentacles squeezing at his legs, “But eet ‘as to wait...eet simply is not safe...”

“Aw I know yer right...” The Texan groaned...but something else was gnawin art his mind. “Besides that...is it cause ...ya can’t? Physically I mean, do you have the ‘equipment’? I hate to bring it up, but I’ve been wonderin’...” He nudged his face into the Spy’s damp neck, god he felt so good.

Oh there was THAT too. Thankfully, Domi found himself able to chuckle at the question, nuzzling confidently, “As you put eet, I DO ‘ave ‘the equipment’, oui. Not the usual sort, but I am still a man physically by that standard.”

“Either you got a penis or ya don’t!” Lance struck back in a joking tone. But as he heard it, Domi was telling him yes he did still have male parts somewhere, not that they were obvious as Lance had not seen them as of yet. This made him even more aroused wondering what he meant by ‘not the usual sort’.

The spy had to laugh at that too, “Fine, yes, I do then.” He confirmed, taking a deep breath of the Engineer’s scent. “But we really can’t do this right now...” His arousal was getting stronger, they really needed to stop...but while Domi knew that, the rational thoughts telling him what he should do were being drowned out by a rising voice, the one he’d learned to usually recognize and control, in everything except these matters.

“Yer makin’ me all curious, but yer right...” Lance growled back, disappointed just as much. They had to get him back in the tank and wait for a safer time – or even plan for some kind of escape that wouldn’t make it look like any RED’s helped the captive. He slowed and let off the spy, leaning away. But he was reeled back in with a low growl as the tentacles coiled tightly.

“Domi,” Lance tried to push him off playfully, “Come’on now I gotta go dry yer clothes.”

There was no response except another purring growl, his whole body arching into the Texan. Lance felt licking at his neck – thick and eager, but it made him pause, it was without finesse, it didn’t seem like his usual actions. He pushed away and tried to get a look at his face. When he finally did it was what he feared – that look, the same one he saw the day he shot him when he was attacking their RED Spy. A total lack of contemplative humanity; like an animal.

“Domi!” The engineer said loud as he dared but still not wanting to attract any possible attention outside. He stumbled backwards as the tentaspy pushed him onto an infirmary bed, forcing him into a sitting position. Had he...gone into some kind of trance? The RED Spy ended up with crushed bones when that happened before, what should he do? His mind raced as he thought of how to defend himself while not hurting his love OR getting himself in danger. He felt like he was dealing with a loose wild tiger as the tentaspy crawled up to him, looking more animal then human.

Dominique was nuzzling all over him like Lance was made of catnip, face snarling past the bulge in the engineer’s pants. His breath grew raspy as he was breathing deeper but without sipping any water like he’d normally do. Lance yelped as tentacles tore down his clothes, squishing thickly into the space between the fabric and his flesh. He didn’t want it, not like THIS... “Dominique!” He kept using his name hoping it would help snap him out of it. He pushed on him again and was more firm this time, “Stop it! Yer not yourself!” He wasn’t above hitting the other man but he was worried that might just provoke ‘the animal’.

There was another low rattling hiss and with inhuman speed Lance found is head pushed back and a mouth on his throat – the feeling of sharp fangs hovering on his skin but not piercing. A warning – a show of dominance.

Lance swallowed thickly – causing the teeth to scratch at his moving throat. Now he felt like he was dealing with a rattlesnake. He never liked those when they surprised him in the bushes back home. He whimpered and tried scooting backwards onto the bed, but his feet were knocked out from under him by wrapping tentacles spreading his legs.

There was a whisp of smoke and a gun pressed to the back of Dominique’s head as it materialized out of thin air.

“Good theeng I AM keeping an eye on you.” Raimund said around his cigarette, “Let go of my teammate, IMMEDIETLY.”

Dominique had only to shift his tentacles, which were too fast for the RED Spy, knocking him off his feet.

HIM - HE IS BACK...
BACK TO STEAL YOUR MATE.

The tentaspy pounced on top of the RED and snarled loudly. His lips curled back displaying his dripping fangs. He struck at him with a snapping of teeth.

Raimund cried out in surprise – merde, he was FAST. Luckily he had fast reflexes too – and being fueled by primal fear sure helped. He instantly fired his Ambassador into the body part it was pressed against, the attacker’s shoulder. That gun was like a cannon, and caused a nasty wound at point black range – the tentaspy recoiled immediately and reeled in pain, his arm limp.

Lance flinched, gasping and stumbling further backwards on the bed as blood splattered onto him. “Geezus Spah!”

The RED dusted himself off shakily as he was able to stand back up, watching Domi retreat. He stamped out his cig where it’d been knocked on the floor in the altercation, and instantly lit a new one. More nicotine was just what his nerves needed. He soon was steady handed again and watching the writhing monster on the floor, his gun trained on him again just in case. “Maybe that’ll snap some sense into ‘im.”

Indeed, it did...Domi felt reality washing back, the pain breaking through the haze of arousal like a slap to the face. He balled up, tentacles sticky and his breath short. He looked around, disoriented. Eyes fell on The RED Spy, then Lance, who was eyeing him with shock and worry.

“Aggnnn!” Dominique groaned, holding his arm as it gushed around his webbing holding the wound together, the pain really hitting him. The wound was not fatal...but he was still losing a lot of blood despite his natural clotting abilities. He stared at the floor as he waited for the world to stop spinning.

A medkit syringe was thrown in his lap. He looked up and saw Lance there next to the RED Spy – he must have got it from the cabinet. It was picked up slowly; he was unable to look Lance in the eye. How could he? He knew what he’d done; he could see it, like a memory through someone else’s eyes. He’d had no control, lost it again...he just needed more time to acclimate to the intensity of physical closeness like he’d had time with hunting and fighting – but would the engineer stick with him through it?

“Ya better use that, yer losin’ a lot of blood...” Lance said, sounding still a bit in shock though he was obviously worried for Domi’s safety. He was feeling at his scraped neck and some minor sucker bruises on his legs, but the real damage was not physical.

Domi was at the end of his rope, this was too much. He assumed Lance was scared of him, standing over there with the RED Spy as protection like he was some loose animal. Yes that was what he was, wasn’t he? Dangerous and unpredictable. He shakily picked up the syringe and injected it into his upper arm. There was a shifting of flesh as the bone crackled and skin stitched together. The bleeding was contained and he let his arm go, though he was still covered in his own blood.

Domi just stared at his coiling tentacles. ‘Keep it together Domi’ he told himself. ‘Least you stopped before you did something you’d really regret...don’t fall apart now after you’ve been through so much. You’re better then that.’

“I’m sorry,” Domi chocked out, voice raspier then ever. Even though he felt like sorry wasn’t enough that is all he could say. He felt another weight hit him on his mass of tentacles. His water flask. He glanced up briefly; it was Lance that had thrown it. The RED Spy still had his gun trained to him like he expected him to pounce any second.

The flask was shakily upturned. Domi gasped with relief as coolness seeped through him. Now that he was feeling able to speak clearly, “Si vous pliat...I didn’t mean to...” The water had helped his voice but his throat still felt closed up. “...forgive me...” He didn’t feel like he deserved to ask that though.

“I’d forgive you but it didn’t seem like YOU back there...” Lance said, hesitating before continuing, “I’ve seen that look in your eyes before. What IS that? You jes seem to lose control, doesn’t seem like a spah. And I think I got a right to know everythin’ I’m getting’ myself into.”

“Ah, you do Mon Cher. Of course,” Domi flicked his eyes about the floor, holding the flask in his lap with both hands. He mustered the right words to reply with while the RED Spy muttered, “Least no one heard ze gunshot - ”

The infirmary doors barged open, “What was noise?!” and there stood Boleslav.

Everyone froze like they weren’t quite sure what to do. But they were pretty sure whatever it was this looked like, it wasn’t anything good. The heavy stopped too, letting the infirmary doors swing to a standstill behind him.

“Trying to escape, tiny BLU?” He assumed, coming up like a freight train and looming over the tentaspy while cracking his knuckles, “I not scared of you.”

Domi instinctively hissed with a flashing of teeth, tentacles coiling up in tensed humps to make him look bigger. But he made no move to fight back. Maybe...maybe this was the opportunity he was hoping for – but at the same time, Boleslav was leaving tomorrow morning on the train with the older medic, transferred for a new Heavy. Even if he could show him he wasn’t a threat what good would it do him? And there was no way he’d try anything risky that would make him look bad to BLU, with the pending transfer, as no doubt he’d have a pay bonus and a vacation period coming up...and what evidence did they have Eppelheim was a former BLU except for Domi’s word? The word of a former enemy Spy?

“I don’t mean you any ‘arm.” Domi stated calm as he could, looking the Heavy in the eyes.

“Da, like I believe that.” He glanced at his comrades for support, but that were looking unsure. It was the engineer to jump in front of him.

“Boleslav, wait! Listen, he ain’t a BLU anymore. They tried to kill ‘im, he hates what they did to him- ” Lance started, attempting to reason.

The Heavy pushed the engineer aside thinking he was crazy, “Hit yourself on head too hard, Engineer?” He roughly picked up Dominique, who wriggled but did not put up a fight. He was thrown back in the tank with a splash of water and a wet slapping of tentacles. The lid was slammed down and locked.

Dominique was unhurt but sank to the bottom, grumbling to himself, albeit his body sighed with relief, it was nice to be submerged again. He looked out through the glass to see Lance, dwarfed by the large Russian, pushing a finger into his chest and continuing to try and reason with him. He saw the RED Spy groan and roll his eyes, but turn like someone was dragging him by the ankles, to back up his statements. The Russian seemed to stop and listen a little more.

Dominique came to the surface, head looking through the barred mesh of the cage. The Heavy glanced around, their eyes meeting silently. He turned back around and looked at the engineer, who had his brow furrowed adamantly. His expression softened a little, like some gears turning in his head, like he understood at least one thing, something he could relate to.

“Alright, I listen. Tell me about new doctor.”
>> No. 12571
Oh my god. OH MY GOD. An update.
Thank you, Lithe-Fider. Thank you so very, very much.
>> No. 12650
I love everything about this story, and I'm so excited you're going to continue and finish it. Domi and Lance are adorable!

You've done a great job addressing their issues, and your writing is wonderful. Also, can I just say how glad I am that more people are being told about Eppelheim? Really happy to hear about that.

Can't wait for the next part. Thanks for updating this story!
>> No. 12692
Wowee. Honestly, I had no interest in tentacle porn before, and I can't say I do now, but I love Domi and Lance. I read this entire fic from past to presentin one shot- I've been reading since about 8:30 pm and it's 1:51 am now. Obviously there are grammar and spelling errors I could nitpick over for ages, but honestly who goves a shit, your story is incredible. Please, sir, may I have some more?
>> No. 12694
Also, random question, but I saw you mentioned you're a lesbian. Why on earth do you write porn about gay men?? It strikes me as funny. Don't stop, though.
>> No. 12851
Awe T^T I can't wait for more I can hardly tell when this dung thing updates

(STOP THAT)
>> No. 12854
I'm so mad. Please, ryuicefox, sage next time.
>> No. 12857
My hopes....were crushed.
Thank you, ryuicefox. thank YOU.
>> No. 13623
>>79 Heh, well I'm not the only one! You'd be surprised. I myself appreciate/find attractive the idea of certian kinds of (cartoon) men. They are fun to play with character wise, and mash together, but I don't wanna me involved physically, in theory or irl.

Small update because the next chapter is already in progress and this one seemed like a good chapter break point. Sorry this took so long. I'd check back for an update every 3 weeks from this point out, I'm really busy irl, and was not in the best spirits for writing for a bit(blah blah real life blah blah). But do know I want to finish this thing, for me and for all you who read and give feedback and comments <3 Also wow, getting new readers this far into the game, welcome!

Anyway onward with the drama:


[ Part 32 ]

It was thankful the men there were heavy sleepers, or that muffled gunshot in the infirmary might have gotten more attention. The Russian had heard it by proxy of being in the closest room to the infirmary – the RED Doctor’s quarters – and having been awake reading to himself, a typical morning activity. The other man in his bed was still fast asleep – not as early a riser, and far heavier a sleeper.

Lance explained the terrible things the new doctor had been doing, things that any man with an ounce of conscience should be disgusted by. The Heavy slowly softened, face melting into signs of sympathy...because it was obvious - he could see how much the engineer cared for the freak BLU spy. He also could understand the possible reality of how their captive be a rouge BLU based on what he was being told. The simple truth alone that BLU had done nothing to negotiate his return or attempt rescue was a red flag.

But it was what Dominique was about to make known that would be something all in the room would hear for the first time.

“There’s more.” Domi spoke up from behind the tank lid’s bars, in a tone that made everyone stop to listen. He knew this was going to sound far fetched, but they had to know the truth whether they believed him or not.

“Eppelheim, he’s ze one you should look out for, if eet is BLU’s you worry about. Eppelheim used to work for BLU. He’s gone through a lot of trouble to change ‘is appearance and identity to get back ‘ere. He must have friends in ‘igh places, to weedle ‘is way back alive.” He stared at the others through the mesh, checking their reactions.

The RED Spy looked highly skeptical, “And why would he go to such trouble?” He tapped the ash from his cigarette, “Wouldn’t a spy be better for such infiltration?”

Domi continued, “Eet’s because he wanted to see if I was still alive – he wants to finish what he started.”

“Domi, are you sayin’ - ” Lance was already making assumptions in his mind, based on what Domi was revealing, but he couldn’t believe it...

“Doctor Eppelheim, is ze man who did this to me six years ago.”

The RED Spy burst out in a low snorting laugh with disbelief, “You sure I did not shoot you in ze head?! You really theenk RED’s intelligence is so poor as well?”

“Eet’s ze truth! And based on what I know of ze professional level of this territory war, and the upkeep of the facilities, oui, it could be that poor. That, and/or ze doctuer’s connections are THAT good. Someone must want this research, someone weeth money. Someone who might rival RED and BLU in terms of power.” Domi replied quickly, “I assure you eet is true, he told me ‘imself. And I remember, I remember ‘is voice, from six years ago. Not only zhat, but he ‘as quite a passion to dissect every inch of me and perfect eet...for FURTHER application. He intends to duplicate ze procedure.”

The RED Spy shook his head again.

Lance broke in, “He intends to make more...? Fer what, ocean warfare?”

“Oui...infiltration, intelligence, you name eet. I never said ze man was SANE.” He growled. “Ze practical applications are realistic...I suppose.”

“If he kin...alter people like that, made ya, can’t he change people back too?” Lance said, swallowing soon afterward, worrying if that sounded bad in the sense like he was eager to change Domi’s appearance, like he didn’t like him how he was now. Sure he’d love to have him a normal man, who wouldn’t? Domi he knew would be happier...but it didn’t mean he couldn’t love him as he was now.

The tentaspy got the tension from the question, but he was....assuming, he didn’t mean it like that, “There is no way, far as I know,” His voice was soft.

Heavy broke in like he wanted to get back to business of the problem at hand, “I no like new doktor from the moment I met him.” His face was conflicted, “I believe you. I will do what I can to help, but I can not relay the information directly to RED. Not if only source is – “ He waved a large hand to the caged spy, “His word mean nothing, to RED. And for new Docktor to get here, I am sure his background is sound. Would only jeopardize my own position...”

The Russian glanced sadly at Lance, who he liked as a friend and hated to feel like he was letting down, but this was about his future and one he’d worked hard for. He’d been through a lot in his life, he needed this. “Me and Doktor’s contract is almost up, I can not do that. I can not risk being tied up in RED tape...literally.”

The conversation was short after that, no use arguing loyalties or being mad at Boleslav for not putting his and his lover’s future safety on the line for anything, especially some experimental spy, and definitely not for a team of strangers. They were mercenaries, not some girlscout troop. That was the cold hard truth. And how it looked, even if he was a former BLU, Eppelheim seemed to serve no threat to the team as a whole; he was only interested in his former research, Domi.

He did make it clear to Lance though, as he left to get up the Doc, that he’d meant it when he said ‘he’d do what he could’. He did not elaborate, but Lance was assuming it meant relay the information at least to him...

....

After that, things were cleaned up to the way they were – and mercifully, the RED Spy helped Lance quickly dry Domi’s clothes. He knew how to deal with such things; from personal experience of course.

After that, he broke open a new pack of cigarettes, and got to thinking if he could dig up any REAL intelligence on their new doctor, or perhaps about what these connections WERE that were so powerful, maybe even more so then his current employer...

Raimund didn’t like NOT knowing things.

...

The engineer had just enough time to say goodbye to Domi, face to face, before they left the infirmary the last time that morning. The spy simply looked and sounded...tired, like soon he might have nothing left if things kept on like this. Hopes lifted then crushed, the morning so optimistic, then this. And on the physical end, being confined, tortured, and fed so poorly. Lance hadn’t seen much of those tentacles yet, but he could see them losing a little color from the time he first saw them, like the life was draining out of him.

“I’m so....so sorry, Cher,” Domi whispered softly, it coming out like something gnawing at him and he couldn’t not bring it up. He was thinking of how he’d lost it and attacked Lance. Their conversation had been cut off, the moment never given resolution.

“You really are not ‘urt, are you?” His tone was of ‘how can you ever forgive me?’ His tentacles limply suckered to the glass below him, showing his mood, and like they were scared to get near the other man. “I swear, eet is so far...from what I want. What ‘appened back there, you are right eet wasn’t like me. Eet’s like I-”

“Domi, stop beatin’ yourself up about it right now, alright? I’m okay...” The engineer cut him off, he couldn’t take it anymore, he didn’t want their last few minutes together today to be like this, “We’ll talk later, when we have more time.” His eyebrows furrowed upward and he smiled, reaching out to pet at his lover’s jawline, “I don’t ever recall ducking out of a fight I believed in, I ain’t ready to start now.”

He could see how much Domi was hurting with self-doubt, and he himself was having logic based reservations. But the engineer was a loyal man, and could tell good people. This...this was something worth fighting for. It wasn’t a logic based problem, not one you could throw numbers and figures onto like everything else. He’d give Domi another chance. All he was going through, it was unfair to let this be a deal breaker so early on.

Domi sighed with nothing but gratefulness and love for the man before him. He held his hand over the larger one at his jaw, “I promise you, when we are out of all zhis, you will be ze most pampered man in all ze world.” He smiled through his emotion, while the statement was one of half-jest, he was obviously very serious about every word.

They kissed, the moment drawn out.

“Je t'aime,” He whispered into the other’s lips as they drew apart.

...

Eppelheim would not know anything was amiss when he and the Doc went into the infirmary for the final arrangements of records and what have you were being made. It was even unknown to him...that the old Medic was internally glaring daggering through his glasses, searing with hatred that he’d be leaving his infirmary to a man like this. He had a duality about it - he was fascinated about what the other doctor had accomplished in the likes of the altered Spy, but how he was going about it was not a way he approved of. He knew his surgical medicine, sure...but he was a conniving, backhanded spook, cold and detached from the human element of experimental medicine. He’d have been better off applying for the Spy’s position in his eyes.

‘Don’t underestimate me,’ He thought, ‘Your subdued smirk doesn’t fool me.’
>> No. 13629
my soul is CRUSH-
oh look an update!
>> No. 13630
Yesssssss..... I thoroughly enjoyed this installment, even though Medic's instant belief of Eppelheim's wrongdoings jars me just a little bit. I'm happy that Boleslav came on their side, and I am really pleased with the fact you don't let the couple stay. A bit of realism in between the fantasy never hurts!

Go you!
>> No. 13755
I... yes. Just yes. I thought this was abandoned, really, but then... updates! Amazing, actual updates! And I... I am happy.

Oh, and happy Thanksgiving, all.
>> No. 15103
asdfghjkl!! I wish there was more!!
>> No. 15123
Lithefider is currently working on other projects right now, but I am sure she will be back eventually.

In the mean time, Kris, it is polite to put the word "sage" into the email box when commenting on a fic that hasn't updated in a while so that you do not necro-bump a thread and get everyone excited that it updated. (The quotes are not needed for sage-ing) Thanks.
>> No. 15207
I just finished reading this in three hours.
I really do hope you continue soon! I find it difficult to find quality, plot considered, non-rape Tentaspy fics. I loved it, but you're making it very hard for me to focus entirely on Domi and Lance what with Raimund and Derik being adorable in the corner over there. (Hah!)
>> No. 15627
I saw this starting to put up on AO3 and then this link popped up on my dash and just omg. I just started getting interested in the idea of tentaspy and this is absolutely amazing!

I am loving the characters as well; Domi and Lance are so cute and Raimund and Derik are too farkin' adrobs ><
>> No. 15629
Let me tell you a story of a small word called "sage". Sage had his own nice, comfortable place on TF2-chan. It was in the e-mail box. Once upon a time there were people who hated sage and didn't want to take him home before posting their comments. It caused chaos, frustration and anger among the people on TF2-chan. When sage wasn't home the comments bumped threads, pushed other threads down and let foolish people think there'd been real updates to their favorite fictions. Everyone were sad. The end.
>> No. 15820
OH NO people forgot to sage! I feel bad when that happens, but they this time it's actually the author!

First of all I am so surprised people are still discovering this fic, wow, super flattered and happy, seriously! (Also HAha sorry (not sorry) Saphira about Raimund and Derik, they kind of developed alongside things ;). ) My fic writing was distracted this year by a new fandom in my life but I have not forgotten about my favorite killer mercenaries and water monsters.

IsTheMedia is correct, I am putting this fic up on AO3 with lots of fleshed out areas, and later major fixes. Some alterations are from crit I got here and realized 'wow I really could have written that part better plot wise' but also from generally getting better at writing this past year. Now that the holidays clusterfuck is over I'll have more time to work on it.

As you might suspect it will be continued to completion once I catch up reposting on AO3 - so don't look here for updates anymore (but mods please leave this thread here so people can see where the fic went). I also am combining some of the smaller chapters together (so it may say up to 'Part 5' right now in the chapter list on AO3, but it's more I'm up to Part 10.)

You don't have to be logged into an AO3 account to read or comment, so if you wanna drop me feedback please do! http://archiveofourown.org/works/985849/chapters/1942949

Also going to plug another good TF2 fic by a friend of mine that you might remember, "The Nucleus Incident" http://thenucleusincident.tumblr.com/ , she too is going through and fixing things and re-posting to completion.

Happy New Year TF2 fandom!
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