catch me if ya can

So are you like, dating docmun?

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) greetings weary traveler

#( took us long enough )#( out of chara. )#ooc

UPDATE FROM BEYOND HIATUS: i actually am now!

#' get a load of THIS asshole '#jacques #nice art hngg #tf2 spy

Dumb jerk in a red hunting cap.

Olivier,

If I remember correctly I haven’t had a significant other in a good five years. Give or take I mean. No need to be so snippy at me now cos you’re feeling like the only one without a St. Valentine. Hohoho! If you don’t want to be bothered thogh though that’s okay.

Becbecbec, J.

p.s. Do you like chocolate? Take these anyway I think you’ll like them.

Jacques,

No surprise there, you're no site sight for sore eyes, that's for sure. And I ain't being snippy over that. You honestly think I care if I don't have some freakin' Valentine? I don't care one bit. Nada. Zilch. Love don't mean much to me, who needs that shit when you've got the freedom to fuck whoever?

I didn't ask for chocolate, Oliver

P.S. They're good though, so, uh, thanks I guess. You can have the raspberry one... don't care much for the stuff myself.

#gxntlemen

speedingnuisance

Olivier, You doing arligh alright? Ain’t seen you round here recently with you being cooped up in your room and all… Hearts and love your way, J.

#a H #HE IS SO HEATED AND GAY SOBS #I'M SORRY #he's very fussy #homophobic slur ///#gxntlemen

Jacques,

The door's locked for a reason, moron. Can't handle all you queers being so freakin' mushy round this time of year. Actin' like it ain't just some other day of the year. These gushy acts are gonna make me gag.

Shove it, Oliver.

xnotadoctor replied to your post: "am i allowed to post the same photo ...

HEY ON A SCALE FROM ONE TO TEN YOU’RE A 9 AND I’M THE 1 YOU NEED

you must be potato soup because i think you're souper

#xnotadoctor #ooc #( out of chara. )#( tbd. )

"You've no idea what I’m capable of, pal."

"Yeah, wouldn’t ‘ave taken yew ta be dumb enough ta come up into moi nest willingly loike that, mate.” The marksman chuckled, standing up from his post where he usually sat, hand going for his Kukri.

“Thought yer job was just runnin’ round the place an’ not gettin’ killed. Yer certainly not good at doin’ either of those, it seems.”

Planned? He’d figure a Spy to actually plan on coming all the way up to his nest to off him, like he was supposed to, not some scrawny kid that changed his mind the moment he walked into and laid his eyes on the marksman’s knife. Which the Aussie wasn’t putting down just yet, even once the runner spoke up, clearly making it even more obvious that he was somewhat agitated by it as if just looking at him wasn’t clear enough.

“So wot, yew decided ta try an’ act all tough, but chickened out once yew realized it wasn’t quite what yew expected it ta be?” What the hell did the Scout think this would look like? Of course it would be different than down on the field. The marksman rolled his eyes, realizing he was wasting time, but then again, it wasn’t as if his team was in a particularly bad spot anyway. Not yet, at least.

“How’d Oi know yer not gonna off me if Oi do put it down, hm? Self defense, mate, that’s all this is. Yew came up here, not the other way around, Oi’m jus’ doin’ moi job.” And he would rather not go through respawn for letting his guard down and buying what this kid was saying.

#thanksforstandingstill #( sniper don't listen to the mean scout you're very handsome )

"I ain't some chicken, alright? Unlike the rest of ya, I haven't got this twisted kind'a hate towards the opposite team." He shrugged, gaze uneasy as it flickered to the side, lips tugging downwards into a scowl. "Just don't feel right to kill a man from the back. All unsuspectin' and stuff?" A pause, his next words falling from his lips before he could prevent them, scowl quirking into a lopsided grin. "Course, now that I've seen that face'a yours... can't imagine I'd make the same mistake again," he chuckled, his words a harsh, yet subtle jab at the man's appearance. His amusement was short lived however, smile faltering easily at the shine of that knife, tip still held in his direction. "Hey, hey-- If I say I ain't gonna kill ya, I won't. Don't ya think I would have done it if I'd wanted to?" He could have -- nice view, enough room to land a solid blow. No interference, focus trained on nothing more than the swing of his bat. "Have a bit'a faith in yer fellow man, would ya? Jeez, yer all so testy. Ain't like we all don't head back and have a beer after all's been said and done, ya know?"

"You've no idea what I’m capable of, pal."

“Thought yer job was just runnin’ round the place an’ not gettin’ killed. Yer certainly not good at doin’ either of those, it seems.”

"Yew could try.” The marksman didn’t really seem to take offense by the comment on his work. Wasn’t the first time he’d heard something like it, nor would it be the last, so why bother? He did good work and kept the enemy team from progressing further, picking them off one by one like he was meant to, that was good work in itself. “If yer scrawny self could manage ta pick ‘a gun of that size up at least.” He smirked, turning the insult around in his own favor again, before the runner followed with something else.

Which took him a bit by surprise. Then again, it was obvious, from how tense he was and the expression which seemed to focus on his knife rather than anything else, that the young man was doubting whether he could actually try taking the Aussie down on his own like that. “Relax? Wot’re yew color blind or somethin’?”

By all means this conversation should have been over already, so he could return to his job and actually do something for his own team and yet he continued to chat with the kid like it was nothing. “Wot the bloody hell else did yew come up here fer then?”

Oliver's nose wrinkled at the insult; he was definitely regretting not having killed him when he had the chance. Being underestimated was a peeve of his, whether it be of his intelligence or strength. The latter of which he certainly didn't lack, despite the contrary impression his appearance might give. "I ain't color blind, alright? Jesus, I know yer a RED." He heaved a sigh, palm of his right hand growing sweaty where it clutched his bat; the young man now anxious at the predicament he'd stumbled into. "I came up here to kill ya, alright? Planned on whackin' yer head off. Like I said, pal, I ain't ever killed me a sniper." Oliver shrugged, cheeks grown flushed in both the summer heat and the threat of death-- not that he'd stay dead, of course; the sensation of a knife driving into his chest, however, wasn't necessarily pleasant. With a shrug of his shoulders, he continued, "'different from what I expected, though, comin' up here." On the field, there wasn't time for thinking. Rushing past, swinging his bat against the enemy's head-- it was quick. Up here things were different, pulling his arm back, preparing to swing--- it felt real. Slow. Not as crazed, but purposeful; there was nothing euphoric about this. He grit his teeth, agitation flooding his thoughts, "would ya put it down already?"

#thanksforstandinstill

"You've no idea what I’m capable of, pal."

“Thought yer job was just runnin’ round the place an’ not gettin’ killed. Yer certainly not good at doin’ either of those, it seems.”

"Men loike me?" The marksman’s eyebrow went up behind his shades as he looked at the young runner, somewhat amused with the attitude. The kid had a loud mouth and was fast, but then again how fast would he be about a few swings with his knife in the rather confined space the Aussie made his nest? Not much room to run around, now, was there? The comment that followed had him chuckling again, clearly not letting it get to him- not coming from a loud mouthed kid such as the enemy team’s Scout at least.

“Yew could, could yew?” If he were smart he would have gone ahead and done it already, but then again, the younger man didn’t look too intent on actually going through with that threat. “Because Oi could say the same t’yew too, y’mongrel.” And by rules he should have long since taken care of him. What followed, however, had his eyes widening a bit. “Y-wot?” Before they narrowed. “Wot, yew came up here jus’ so yew could compliment on the view Oi get? Get out before Oi do moi job and gut yew loike Oi should ‘ave done already.”

"Men like you," he echoed, unsure if he should feel uncomfortable or humored in the fact that the marksman seemingly found amusement in their exchange. "You know, sittin' up here, away from the field. Don't take much to aim and shoot, bet'cha any man could do it just fine." The Scout seemed to take offense to the Sniper's inquiry, quirking a brow in turn. "I could," he sniffed, giving a shrug of his shoulders. "You'd be surprised-- the damage a simple thing like this can do," he gestured with a nod to the stained bat, grip tight for. despite how carelessly the words tumbled from his lips, the young man was still tense, gaze focused entirely on the dull sheen of that knife. "But I ain't gonna, alright?" His eyes lifted, flickering to the marksman's worn face, "so relax, would ya?" Perhaps engaging in conversation had been his first mistake, he thought, fingers clenching once more against the handle of his bat. He should have swung it, crack, hard against the Sniper's head; knocked him right out of commission.

#thanksforstandinstill

"You've no idea what I’m capable of, pal."

“Thought yer job was just runnin’ round the place an’ not gettin’ killed. Yer certainly not good at doin’ either of those, it seems.”

#thanksforstandinstill #( omg no it's peRFECT )#( sorry for the somewhat awkward reply /o\ )

It was obvious in the way Oliver’s jaw clenched that the Sniper had struck a nerve with his comments. “Didn’t think men like you thought,” he retorted, lips pursed, “pretty easy to sit up here, away from the battle and all, pickin’ us off. Can’t imagine it takin’ any real skill.” Any real intelligence, implication lurking just beneath the tone of his voice.

He shrugged, scratching offhandedly at the side of his face. “Gets a bit borin’, don’t it? Been doin’ this for the past year or so, yet I ain’t ever killed me a sniper.” The fingers of his opposite hand tightened their hold on his bat, just briefly, considering it. "That’s what I came up here to do, ya know? I could, too.” Maybe. “But, uh, it’s a pretty view you’ve got. ‘Cept for the blood and all.”

don't go borken my heart

#xnotadoctor #( out of chara. )#( tbd. )

Old enough, female (sort of), 5'7", grey eyes, black hair, enjoys traveling, spontaneity, videogames, sci-fi/fantasy novels/movies/tv shows and cuddling unsullied by the primal urges most humans experience, pretty much any date is fine, something simple would be best to start with, maybe a movie or dinner? Just hanging out at one of our houses would be awesome too.

"I don't see a problem with it," he shrugged. "Just a date is all, uh, nothing long-term, yeah?" Not that she was, in any way, unappealing -- just that females had never quite struck him the same way males had. ( A fact he was still unwilling to confess to, not even to himself. )

Older male, about 170 cm tall with an average build, shoulders somewhat broader than my waist. Short brown hair that's greying more than a little bit on the sides, often styled with a slight wave. Round glasses, strong jaw, Enjoys walks along mossy paths, vintage tea sets, birds of the columbid variety, debating, classical music, the company of cultured others, and holds a mild interest in botany. A game of catch would serve as a suitable date, no? Perhaps a nice dinner afterwards?

“You foolin’ me, right, doc? You know April Fool’s ain’t until like, uh, April, yeah?” His laugh fell almost forcibly from his lips, perhaps a bit stunted that someone, much less Fritz, had even made such a request.

#xnotadoctor #( u g h )#( i-it's not like i like you ! b-baka ! )

xnotadoctor is trying to convince me to make a blu soldier and i am weak this is why you don't get married kids

#( we're not actually married don't believe that )#( ah yes lying for humorous effect )#( out of chara. )

mccreechii

Describe yourself on anon and I'll say if I'd date you.

#( sobs i felt like a loser last time so i deleted. )#( try again? )#( will respond to the two in my ask! )#( meme. )

Age, gender, height, eye and hair color, then tell me what your favorite something (hobby, class, music, etc) and what kind of date you want me to take you on.

Ready? GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

xmedicus-deactivated20150118

The question —an invitation to socialise, to exercise, to get out of this cramped office— however desired as it secretly was, was still met with a rather unsure response; a thoughtful hum before a long pause, hands moving from the papers on the table to his lap. Catching and throwing were two things that he was very, very terrible at, but if Oliver insisted…

Standing from his seat, Friedrich shrugged, “I have nothing better to do. Sure.”

#xnotadoctor #( oliver this is why no one plays ball with you )

Oliver's shoulders fell, "what, you foolin' me, doc?" He hadn't expected the simple enough answer, much less a yes to his invitation. Quirking a brow, he leaned against the doorway, rolling the baseball from hand to hand. "You ever even play ball? No offense," he grinned, "but you ain't exactly, uh, the American dream or nothin'." Not that he was complaining, of course. The young man was simply delighted, albeit surprised, that he hadn't been shoved out the office immediately upon voicing his inquiry.

Jacques had, as a matter of fact, killed many more than a handful of people, but that was with a weapon —be it a knife or a gun— and he wasn’t out to bluff. Only when the Scout asked his second question did the Spy’s lips quirk into a grin, his own shoulders giving a small shrug. “I suppose it depends on the person,” he answered, pausing to pull out his disguise kit, fingers thoughtfully drifting over the row of cigarettes tucked into it. His act wasn’t out of disinterest, though, as much as it was a casual way to busy his hands. “Why, are you upset over killing somebody?” The inquiry, harmless as it was, had a subtle second meaning, as though to remind his teammate that whoever was killed —as long as they were a RED— wasn’t exactly dead, per se.

#gxntlemen #( oliver discuss your problems like a MAN )

"I'm not upset," the younger man retorted, perhaps a touch too hastily, shoulders tensing as he continued. "I'm not some pussy, Jacques, I've got no qualms against killin' a man," not if they came back, that was. Oliver squeezed his eyes shut, scrubbing the palms of his hands against them; a gesture borne from discomfort, yet also serving as a momentary distraction.

"I don't mean here," he muttered after a while, obviously agitated. He wasn't sure if he was thankful for the Spy's patience or downright discomforted by it, "On the field, it's different? But," the Scout shrugged, wanting to bash his face in for the subsequent waver of his voice, "there hasn't always been a, field, ya know?"

xmedicus-deactivated20150118

“Chickens are in the order galliformes, of which this clearly doesn’t belong.” Refusing to refer to himself as any sort of bird, he simply pointed to his feathered body, face twisted into a sort of defencive scowl, “But are you here simply to try and torment me, Oliver, or is there something you need?”