#engineer x pyro

[wb--fb]

A texastoast doodle and ig an pyro under mask headcannon

I feel bad I haven't posted in a while, so yall are getting doodles

They feel safe with him <3

[boxieslair]

There are no texas toast playlists on spotify

Guys what songs should be in a texas toast playlist

[ari-orangebox-collection]

The taste of love is sweet

When hearts like ours meet

I forgot his overalls :((

[boxieslair]

She lives in this sweater

[vampiricapples]

Headcanon that Engineer absolutely despises it when the other mercs talk about Pyro as if they’re a monster or insulting them for their mental illnesses but he has to bite his tongue because he wants to keep their marital status a secret

(Mainly out of fear of the administrator using Pyro against him)

[boxieslair]

Pyro and Engie doodles!

Just finished the tf2 comics too engie was so fine oml tho I wish we got to see more of him and pyro

[vampiricapples]

I think it’s clear that Engineer is “old money” country, with his family probably being super rich from working with Mann co. But i don’t think they’re the snobby types just judging by the way both Dell and Fred act

Tho i do like playing with the idea that some family members would be disturbed about Dell choosing to marry someone who not only has no “status” but who also is a crazed pyromaniac who wears a creepy mask 90% of the time(i imagine Pyro would also wear a mask even at their wedding) not to mention she doesn’t have any form of documentation other than a burnt asylum record with vague information

[vampiricapples]

The Gunslinger

(Warning, this story contains reference to bodily harm/mutilation, tho nothing graphic happens. I don’t condone or support bodily harm towards one’s self, I just think this gunslinger theory is interesting and fits in with Engineer’s character. I do NOT condone the glorification/romanticization of bodily harm)

This takes place before the events of TF2

(I use she/her pronouns for Pyro!)

It started off as a small idea, then a rough draft, then a prototype. He got this far, the only thing he needed to do now was commit to it. Three bottles of whisky were set off to the side, two empty, one half empty, he knew how much to consume in order to numb the pain, but still be conscious enough to saw his own arm off.

The belt was wrapped tightly around the flesh of his right forearm, feeling the numbness in his fingers as his left hand shakily picked up the bone saw. Shaking not from fear, but from inebriation, he wasn’t scared of what he was about to do; this would be a huge step in science and engineering. His father had replaced his legs with robotics himself, however at that point he had lost all feeling in them and had been wheelchair bound for a few years.

Dell held the saw over his forearm, squinting, making sure the cut would be just right, until the door to his workshop creaked open. He paused and turned to look over his shoulder, giving a wary smile to the figure poking her head in behind the door.

“Hey darlin’.” The greeting was so casual, as if he was currently tinkering with another sentry instead of being in the process of cutting his arm off for science.

She was wearing that gas mask again, paired with a white lace nightgown. To others she might’ve looked eerie and unsettling, but to Dell, she was perfect.

After stepping forward, standing beside him where he sat, her head tilted to the side, like a curious animal. Dell let out a soft huff of a chuckle, “Ah, don’t you worry none ‘bout what I’m doing.” He said, “Just something I’ve been working on.”

She stood there in silence, observing the scene in front of her. Her silence wasn’t uncommon, sometimes she’d be lively and talkative, and sometimes she’d be quiet and alert. Dell had stopped trying to tie logic into the way his wife was, even after their years of marriage, she was unpredictable, the most complex machine he had ever come across.

Then, she reached out, placing her hand atop of his, right where he was holding the bone saw. Her thumb lightly grazed his calloused skin, he wasn’t quite sure if this was a silent plea against whatever he was about to do, or a silent show of support. Whatever it was, Dell welcomed it.

“I’ll be ok, hon.” He said, his voice soft and gravelly, “You go and sit by the fire, I’ll just finish up here and I’ll join you. I hope…” The last part of his sentence wasn’t intended for her ears, a silent mutter to himself, pleading with whatever force was out there(that was greater than him) that this “procedure” wouldn’t go wrong.

There was a moment of silence again, before her hand slowly retreated, she gave him one last look behind the glass of the mask, before turning and walking out. The soft padding of her footsteps against the concrete floor grew softer as she left.

Dell’s set down the saw for a moment, taking a swig from the half empty bottle before roughly setting it down. His grip clenched around the handle of the saw. He got this far, it would be stupid to turn back now.