I had a mental image of Scout selling matchsticks in the street: exhausted and freezing, he leans against a Dispenser, and bathed in the healing fumes, he begins to dream...

Then I nearly cried.

>>13496

I would read that

>>13498
Oh lord, don't tell me I gave myself another plotbunny... I already have too much on my plate!

>>13499
WRITE IT, YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO.

DAT DODGE
but i like the colours on this

What is this I don't even

I'm sorry this makes no sense also why is it that everything I write is tl;dr

---------------------------

It was a cold, relentless night in the city of Boston. The date was December 24th, 1967.

In the hustle and bustle of the holiday-cheer-filled crowds, it was hard to distinguish individual voices from the mass: a single voice, however, rang clearly from the street corner. It was not the angelic voice of a child, tinkling like some enchanted bell or rising up to Heaven to match with the song of angels. It was a different type of voice entirely.

"Hey, chuckleheads! Get yer matches here!"

The person calling out was a spindly young boy, terribly underclothed for the chilly weather. Nothing but a red t-shirt and gray shorts kept the wind off his skin, and his feet were soaking in his thin running shoes, the moisture making his knee-high socks cling to his skin. The boy was clearly trying to amend the situation by wrapping newspaper around his body, but holding the makeshift cape in place was made difficult by the armful of matchboxes he was holding. All in all, the lad was a rather sorry sight.

Swearing half under his breath and half out loud, the shivering boy stamped his feet and hopped up and down, trying to keep warm even as snowflakes buffeted him and soaked his clothes further. Oh, if only his jacket hadn't been stolen by the older kids... Normally, he would have run them down and beaten the crap out of them, but he'd slipped in the slush and fallen. His palms and left knee still bore scrapes and bruises to remind him of the embarrassing event. At least the matches were still okay, having been snugly wrapped in the newspaper he now wore as an overcoat. The boy fumbled with the matchboxes nervously, running his fingers clumsily over the small packages to make sure they hadn't gotten too wet - and just then, a gust of wind so cold it had probably come straight from the North Pole for this express purpose blasted the newspaper away from the boy and into the cold, wet night.

The boy cursed vividly now, not even bothering to look apologetic as an older woman gave him a nasty look. Immediately, the weather seemed quite a bit colder: the snowflakes that had previously melted on the newspaper were now melting on his clothes, rapidly beginning to soak them through. The boy hesitated, wondering what to do. He could leave his position here at the roadside and lose his chance to get the matches sold, or he could stay and most likely freeze to death. Neither seemed like a safe option just now. After all, he was expected to bring some money home, on tonight of all nights. Still, he suspected his mother would prefer his youngest one home on Christmas Eve alive.

Glancing around, the boy spotted a small alleyway nearby: upon closer inspection, the alley was more like an alcove in the side of the street, barely deep enough to offer shelter from the snow that was now flying horizontally in the wind rather than falling. He couldn't really figure out what the function of the little nook was, but he moved into it nevertheless, figuring he was still close enough to the main road to yell at potential customers. There was a patch of ground where the snow didn't seem to sit, so he positioned himself there. For a moment, he wondered what the lightheaded feeling that had passed over him was. Sure, he was hungry and tired... but he'd gone through worse times, so it didn't make sense how woozy he suddenly felt. Maybe it was the cold.

Now that the boy thought of it, he suddenly realized that it wasn't all that cold anymore. Rather, there was a pleasant feeling of warmth floating around him. Looking around, the boy noticed he'd been leaning against some sort of device. The red thing made him think of televisions, though rather than a screen it appeared to have some sort of large meter on the front: there was also an assortment of buttons and gauges lower down, none of which meant anything to the suddenly quite drowsy boy. All in all, the machine appeared quite alien, but somehow comforting and friendly at once, if an inanimate object could be friendly.

Hesitating for a moment and glancing around, the boy turned his back to the machine again. A few moments later, he decided to crouch, his legs beginning to protest violently against standing further. A minute or two passed, and the boy's thighs began to complain in a different way altogether. Touching the ground beneath him and finding it dry and faintly warm - how peculiar - the boy sat down, pulling off his thoroughly soaked shoes and tucking them next to what he now figured was some sort of strange radiator. Rubbing his soaked feet, the boy barely had time to think to himself that this was a strange place for a radiator before sleep took him over and he nodded off, head pressed to his own knees.

A while passed, perhaps half an hour, perhaps longer. The boy slept peacefully: whatever passersby noticed him simply paid him no heed, failing to wonder whether a boy sleeping out on the street in the dead of winter would need help. Eventually, a figure paused by the small alcove: a short, strongly built man, dressed in the thickest of coats and still shivering. A smile crept onto the man's face as he took in the entirety of the scene.

"Merry Christmas, boy."

>>13506 >>13493
Aahhh! The pic, and the little bb fic to go along with it... everything just made me all warm and fuzzy. It's not even Christmas yet, but I'm definitely feeling the spirit. /corny

>>13506
Aaaaaaw...AAAAW

>>13506

Better ending than the original story, that's for sure. <3

>>13509
I debated leaving it more ambiguous, but I couldn't make myself do that because I am a sucker for happy endings. Also because my brain wanted me to give SOME sort of explanation as to why there is a random Dispenser somewhere in downtown Boston.

>>13493

I just got warm fuzzies looking at this, and then they returned ten fold when I read >>13506

>>13506
I AM CRYING RIVERS. ;_; So sweet.

>>13506
d'awww I wish it was christmas

I feel so warm all of a sudden.

>>13506
D'awwwww!!! I totally didn't expect that! I feel all Christmassy now. <3

On the First day of Christmas, my dispenser gave to me: A Sentry (Level 3!)
On the Second day of Christmas, my dispenser gave to me: Two Syringes, and a Sentry (Level 3!)
On the Third day of Christmas, my dispenser gave to me: Three TentaSpies, Two Syringes, and a Sentry (Level 3!)
On the Fourth day of Christmas, my dispenser gave to me: Four Screamin' Eagles, Three TentaSpies, Two Syringes, and a Sentry (Level 3!)
On the Fifth day of Christmas, my dispenser gave to me: Five Spy Checks!, Four Screamin' Eagles, Three TentaSpies, Two Syringes, and a Sentry (Level 3!)
On the Sixth day of Christmas, my dispenser gave to me: Six Scouts-a-running, Five Spy Checks!, Four Screamin' Eagles, Three Tentaspies, Two Syringes, and a Sentry (Level 3!)
On the Seventh day of Christmas, my dispenser gave to me: Seven Spies-a-Sappin', Six Scouts-a-running, Five Spy Checks!, Four Screamin' Eagles, Three Tentaspies, Two Syringes, and a Sentry (Level 3!)
On the Eith day of Christmas, my dispenser gave to me: Eight Heavies Om Nomming, Seven Spies-a-Sappin', Six Scouts-a-running, Five Spy Checks!, Four Screamin' Eagles, Three Tentaspies, Two Syringes, and a Sentry (Level 3!)
On the Ninth day of Christmas, my dispenser gave to me: Nine Demos Drinking, Eight Heavies Om Nomming, Seven Spies-a-Sappin', Six Scouts-a-running, Five Spy Checks!, Four Screamin' Eagles, Three Tentaspies, Two Syringes, and a Sentry (Level 3!)
On the Tenth day of Christmas, my dispenser gave to me: Ten Soldiers Rocket Jumping, Nine Demos Drinking, Eight Heavies Om Nomming, Seven Spies-a-Sappin', Six Scouts-a-running, Five Spy Checks!, Four Screamin' Eagles, Three Tentaspies, Two Syringes, and a Sentry (Level 3!)
On the Eleventh day of Christmas, my dispenser gave to me: Eleven Pyros Spy-Checking, Ten Soldiers Rocket Jumping, Nine Demos Drinking, Eight Heavies Om Nomming, Seven Spies-a-Sappin', Six Scouts-a-running, Five Spy Checks!, Four Screamin' Eagles, Three Tentaspies, Two Syringes, and a Sentry (Level 3!)
On the Twelfth day of Christmas, my dispenser gave to me: Twelve Snipers Kookin', Eleven Pyros Spy-Checking, Ten Soldiers Rocket Jumping, Nine Demos Drinking, Eight Heavies Om Nomming, Seven Spies-a-Sappin', Six Scouts-a-running, Five Spy Checks!, Four Screamin' Eagles, Three Tentaspies, Two Syringes, and a Sentry (Level 3!)

>>13569
Isn't eleven pyros spy-checking and five spy checks kind of redundant? Or maybe just inefficient?

>>13575

Pub server

>>13590
god, i should not have snorted at that statement...

>>13493
Just looking at this makes me feel relaxed. The warm colours are just perfect.

>>13575
...It's fire! 'cmon! you can always use more fire~!

>>13556
Lord, what an idiot, that was me not namefagging.
And now I've got a song too. I love you guys.

>>13643
S-s-someone...agrees...with me? oh...oh my god. YES.
MORE FIRE FOR FREAKIN EVERYONE!

Just a sketch. For
http://www.tf2chan.net/afanfic/res/5356.html

The warranty lasts forever.

>>15214
... It's beautiful D: Hale is so manly <3

>>15214
I approve of this sketch so much.

>>15214
Oh damn... well, I perfectly understand Sniper's reaction. And are you planning on doing an /afanart/ drawing to this fic? C:

>>15218
I actually wanted to draw them like Fabio and a woman on a Mills and Boon novel with more blushing and heaving of bosoms but I only had an hour. I might. ;)

>>15214
oh man, you've just made my day...no, life
that is superb! i am giggling like crazy C:

>>15214
You make me happy inside. That blush is most devine thing evar.

>>15214
It's excellent! That blush, younger sniper and all. Perfect!