#poisonsculpted

[medikrieg]

Medic grinned. Like a satisfied cat having caught its prey -- a feeling that Medic didn’t have often with the enemy Spy in battle, unfortunately -- despite the current ceasefire. Cocking his head, standing tall, Medic mockingly asked,  “What’s with the face? Still upset after yesterday’s humiliation round?”  Medic clicked his tongue, pursing his lips with a mocking pitying expression on his face. “Aw...I know it must be difficult to deal with the humiliation, but I assure you, that ugly look on your face is doing you no favors.”  Then, with a mean spirited smile and a too sharp grin, Medic couldn’t help but deliver one final jab to his enemy, petty as it was (but satisfying nonetheless).  “ --- Though I suppose it goes well with your hat.” A pause, and then, acting as if what he was saying wasn’t obvious, he finished, “As in, your hat is ugly.”

@poisonsculpted​ | liked for a starter!

[feixing02]

@poisonsculpted

Satellite knows better than to go rifling through people’s possessions unless specifically instructed to. The RED Medic is no different, the rule actually felt more ironclad in some ways both for safety and the fact that he’s someone she definitely did not want to piss off. So it was only under casual instruction from him to retrieve a liver that she even approaches the mini fridge. At this point, with the amount of time she’d spent in the Medic’s presence and in war, disembodied organs no longer warranted much of a reaction.

She opens the door and her thoughts stall for a beat. A pair of eyes blink and stare back at her, attached to the head of the BLU Spy. Maria closes the mini fridge.

She stands there frozen, hand still clasped on the door handle, her surprise racing to catch up to reality. The expression the Spy is greeted with when the door opens again is decidedly more perplexed and disbelieving. The head was still there, making eye contact and seemingly alive. Confirmation that she didn’t somehow hallucinate the object. Throwing a glance over her shoulder to see that the Medic hadn’t looked up from his work, she realizes this is... probably supposed to be entirely normal. Probably. Shaking her head a little to clear it, she gives the Spy a half wave of acknowledgement, offers a nervous smile before tearing her eyes away from the surprise occupant and sets to looking for what she was meant to fetch. It’s rude to stare. Besides the Spy, the rest of the fridge’s contents were fairly mundane. A sandwich, a few bottles of RED Shed beer, a selection of labeled organs on petri dishes. Thankfully the labels were in English, she’s never seen a liver before. In the end she spots it set behind the Spy, in a position very awkward to reach for unless she moved him first.

“Um...” glancing back again at the Medic but receiving no response, she brings herself to turn back to the Spy.

“Hello, sorry, please may I move you outside for a moment? I’m trying to get the liver behind you...” she manages with her normal politeness, everything about her tone and posture apologetic. The whole interaction felt surreal, and she half expects the head not to respond. To be dead. That’s not the actual BLU Spy, is it?

Despite her disbelief, past events in her head were starting to click with a creeping clarity. The BLU had been surprisingly absent for days and days, but she’d just attributed it to his elusive nature and her lack of skill for detecting him. Still locking herself away in her room and doing her best to avoid everyone at BLU base, it might’ve been why she never heard any complaints. Though she wonders why the complaints weren’t louder.

There was also the day of her first examination in the RED Medic’s infirmary. Her apprehension stemming from a scene she’d been privy to in the early morning, of the doctor laughing as sliced the BLU’s throat. Satellite hadn’t thought twice about Medic dragging the dying body away, though now she realizes it’s unusual. Why take the body of a dying man, when they disappear on re-spawn?

That and the sounds of the sudden scrambling and the mini fridge slamming shut, the blood splattered all over the room and upper half of the gurney. She was beginning to piece together a possible story, and it was unsettling.

[doesharm-blog]

‘ i was here all night. ’ (( just griping about being left in the fridge don't mind him

There’s a subtle tug at the corner of his mouth, resembling almost that of a smile- were he to look closely enough. Amused, more so than anything, how they’d come to fall into routine, night after night when the fighting was over. How he’d pull his head from the contained, chilled space, and allow him a smoke, a chance to socialize while he worked late into the night. Yet plans had happened the evening before, forced to work through the night and leave him in cold isolation. Never his intention, for even he too would admit he missed his company. Though the confession would never be spoken aloud, it lingered in the back of his mind, threatened to form on his tongue, yet forced down, for fear of coming across as too attached to the man before him. 

A hand was placed atop his head, a gentle pat, like petting a dog out of pity for his whining and need for attention. He could understand his frustrations, which is why he cared not to argue with him. Instead from his coat pocket he revealed a pack of cigarettes, placing one between his own lips to ignite it with a flame. A slow drag was taken, before placing it between the spy’s own lips to allow him to have his morning smoke. 

“Ja- I’m afraid it was unavoidable, mein kleiner Freund. My team was in need of assistance elsewhere- there was nothing I could do on the matter.” It was then that he took him in his arms, carrying him over to the table top where he often operated. A chance for him to take in fresh air, thaw out and admire what little view there was in his confined, clinical space. A day of downtime for the Red team, which gave them privacy enough to chat, relax together without interruption. “Could it be that you missed me? or were you simply dying for a smoke? Either way, you have both, I have no intention of leaving you for the evening.”

[feixing02]

the spy has been scarce as of the past few weeks. his presence has been hardly missed by the less than observant, but his return is clear to anyone familiar enough with the pungency of his cigarettes. It lingers heavy in the base's common room, as well over the silk handbag left in Satellite's quarters. inside the purse are a number of various treats: candies and flavoured milks and canned teas. (TF Industries' clearly sent him overseas recently.) it's a small gift for a rare competency in BLU.

@poisonsculpted || H E L LO IM ALIVESudden disappearances are always alarming, more so in their occupation of death. The possibility of slipping through re-spawn loomed over their heads, and she couldn’t help but suspect the worst when certain disembodied head disappeared from his shelf.

The thought of asking the Medic what he’d done was terrifying so instead she worried in silence, careful optimism battling with dread as traces of him began to surface in the familiar acrid scent of cigarettes. It couldn’t all just be the RED Spy, right?

Retiring to the comfort of her little cupboard under the stairs at BLU again after a long day, she’d almost sat on the gift. Delicate and extravagant compared to its surroundings, the contrast of something so different is at first confusing. It takes some wondering if it’s someone’s lost object before Satellite finally comes to the conclusion of a gift. One by one the contents are carefully placed on her mattress for stunned examination, and in the relative privacy of her little space, if a giddy laugh bounces past her doorway then hopefully no one has stuck around to listen.

Despite an attempt at restraint, a large chunk of the candies are gone by midnight, disappearing behind smiles and intermittent giggles.

[vorfreudc]

“would you kindly turn on the heat?” ( spy making 20493 demands at anyone in his general vicinity even if it's wilhelm )

@poisonsculpted

The demand goes unanswered until eyes travel to the end of the paragraph and care is taken to turn a yellowing page. Silence should be enough of an answer. Leave. But the Spy’s very pretense prods at concentration, English words read twice over with little retention. With knit brows, eyes never once leave the page and Wilhelm finally answers. “It’s my understanding that you have reclaimed full autonomy.” His tone cannot be described as welcoming. It’s empty of emotion except for a small monotone. 

It’s the closest to a welcome back that Jean will ever get from Wilhelm since the extended ordeal with RED’s Medic. He’d grown accustom to not hearing every one of the Spies complaints, every needy demand. The other Doctor would have done well to set butchering skills towards vocal chords for surely he must have had the the same issue and buy them some peace. Glasses slip from bridge of the nose and the Doctor takes little time to correct lenses. Dull eyes finally lift, observing a frame he perhaps knows better than the Spy himself. 

Always observing. Always analyzing. Any lesser man would pull away from his gaze. His chin rests upon his hand, the book held open with the other.

“Unless, you feel otherwise.” 

[doesharm-blog]

He’s going to die, that much he knows, from the dull ache from a horrible pain he can no longer feel. Numb, if anything, waiting for the adrenaline to subside and the world around him to fade to black. Nothing that hadn’t been done before, and if anything, was probably deserved in the eyes of the blu team. He especially- once his precious trophy on display, now on his own two feet once more. His suit clean pressed, the scent of the cigarette that hung between his lips making him crave a smoke, as he watched the blade in his hands twirl with such grace and skill.

If anything, it made him grin, knowing well that after all that time away from his body, he still managed to surpass his expectations. Still capable of taking him down, body full of stab wounds, yet somehow he still managed to hold on. Hands soaked in blood, he took a careful step towards him, arms outstretched, as if awaiting some sort of embrace he could never receive. Proud of what he’d become, it left him in a fit of laughter, his shuffling steps unsettling as he attempted to close the space between them both. 

“After all this time being apart- here I thought you might have shown me kindness- did our time mean so little to you? How I’ve missed you, mein liebster Spion...”

[build-em-up]

‘ the extreme always seems to make an impression. ‘ (( bullying hewie from multiple blogs? dont mind if I do.

@poisonsculpted

    The strong smell of nicotine along with a voice suddenly in his ear spurred the Texan to act. Soft melodies of a guitar are abruptly stopped to be replaced by a harsh twang of strings. A picture of relaxation suddenly turned south, his posture tenses a grip on the guitar handle tightens to swing. With surprising speed the Engineer rises from his seat atop tool box, the guitar held over his head. Just because he was relaxed did not mean he would not mean he would fall to such easy prey to a sudden ambush. It’s only when his mind registers the flash of blue that he stops in mid-swing precious inches away from making an unfortunate mistake, the force of the guitar sending a sudden gust of air in the Spy’s direction.     Truth be told, his heart still lept even after his mind registered who it was that disturbed a rare respite. The Engineer slumps back onto his toolbox an inexplicable huffed beneath a breath. The Spy’s reappearing act certainly did make an impression and truthfully, he should’ve been used to the act by now but it didn’t mean he had to enjoy the theatrics. Gaze studies the Spy once looking him over from head to toe making sure that no harm had been done.     Pulling a face he exhales heavily, a mix of both relief and irritation as the offending would be weapon is set aside. “Alright. Y’all got my attention. Was there somethin’ y’all needed or do jus’ enjoy appearin’ in ‘n out of th’ blue ‘n nearly gettin’ yer head knocked off?”