Medic is a surprisingly good singer! He whistles and murmurs lyrics to himself a lot, so it’s no surprise he’s a fan of tunes, not just those of his birds.
When you’re someone who has to go to drastic measures to get the organs, bodies, and medical equipment you need, (including grave robbing, mind you), coming up with ways of convincing your peers becomes essential to the job.
Spy may be a master of disguise, but Medic is more of a deception and manipulation kind of guy. Of course, normally he would never be careful, caring little for the well-being of others, but at times he has to sacrifice that to act more like a ‘professional’ and a ‘doctor’, not to mention ‘not a hired killer’.
So he used his vocal range to his advantage! Medic can easily switch from a smooth baritone to pipsqueak within seconds— from softer than feathers to a harsh yell. He uses it to sell a character that isn’t his own.
Speaking of yelling, Medic is DEFINITELY into releasing his stress by screaming death metal. Without a guitar, he learned how to shred. With a bonesaw. With the amount he has to deal with on a daily basis, can you really blame him? Besides, he enjoys it.
But away from that, what about his voice is really so special? Surely being so distinct in appearance would detract from the show he puts on and the shock factor of switching to a much more agreeable and polite character.
Well, that’s when confidence comes in. As somebody who outplayed the devil himself, it’s safe to say Medic knows how to get what he wants. Outsmarting is one thing, but that requires planning that truly isn’t possible all of the time. So he improvises. That’s how he keeps the mercs alive away from respawn and brings people back from the dead.
Naturally, this gives him an air of authority. He learned exactly how to demand what he wants, be it exotic animal organs, tools, or anesthetic, he knows it all. Sometimes all it requires is the threat of being on the receiving end of the vitasaw, others it requires charm and beguiling charisma to have his way.
Well, either way. Not even spy can figure out exactly how he does it.
Maybe you should ask the birds. They’re always watching.
Extra stuff in the tags. I’m normal about this image. Totally.
snipertism. sniper autism. :-)
I FINALLY HAVE A USE FOR THE SK8ER SPY REACTION IMAGE @mspaynt HASDJKASHFSJKGSDAHHA
I am losing my mind over this photo
How would Spy react to not being able to find his knife, only to see some little kid messing with it?
LET ME SEE WHAT YOU HAVE,
A KNIFE!
NO!
His first feelings would likely be of confusion, anger, followed by seething rage when he noticed his knife was missing. After all, he was the Spy, no filthy pickpocket could simply take it. There was no way he had forgotten it either, as he triple checked his belongings and kept them on his person at all times. Being in public, there was no way for Spy to necessarily do much about it. He couldn’t just shout “WHERE IS MY KNIFE?!” To the world, and so he forces a deep breath and begins to search, splitting off from the team and looking about without garnering attention, as if he were merely a tourist.
At first, he had expected to be looking for any suspicious individuals, not anyone barely up to his middle in height. Yet, after a minute or two of scanning the room, there had been no other options, and right there. A lone child, holding a knife.
They were practically begging to be yelled at, dragged by the ear and taken to their guardians for such a bold defiance of all things he held dear, yet… It seemed the child had no parents in their midst. They were enthralled by the blade, flicking it between their fingers and trying to get the butterfly knife to do a trick or two, the light metal clattering far less satisfyingly in their smaller hands. Yet, while not masterful, the little kid treated the weapon with respectful caution, lacking precision but aware that their plaything was dangerous and sharp.
Spy found himself staring, rather than doing anything about it. Nothing about their appearance resembled his son, it wasn’t as if he had reason to not snatch it away and be done with it, yet here he was. Perhaps he saw a bit of his younger self in their eyes, or in the way they had healthy caution for the unknown, yet played with it anyway.
Eventually, he exhaled and wandered over to the child, unsure what angle with which to approach the situation. Putting out his cigarette and kneeling down to get to eye level, he left a hand outstretched for them to return the knife, frowning.
“This is mine, mon petit, may I have it back…?
The child seems afraid, immediately shocked that they were caught. They shake their head, mumbling a “noo…”
“And why is that?” He has to force himself to be patient. Interacting with children is not his forte, but perhaps it feels like a second chance.
Reminding himself this is a stranger, but unwilling to walk away without at least getting his knife back, and giving the child reason not to do such a thing again.
They blink, looking down at the butterfly knife. “Cause it’s pretty and feels good to use… Whus your accent from? S’all sounds pretty...”
Spy, shocked by the answer, goes silent, before sighing.
“Well, it is unwise to play with dangerous objects, mon ami. And… It is French. Do you know French?”
“My momma was from France! I knew I recognized th’ talking…”
“And where is she now..?”
The child’s expression immediately falls, and Spy needs no verbal answer to know what may have happened.
“Have you any other guardians?”
They shake their head, pointing down the road towards the old orphanage, shrugging sadly.
“Don’ matter, s'alright…”
There was the anger again, but now tenfold. Not at this child, but at himself. Of course he had to converse with the child, feel protective, now look at him. He had a job to do, he should have just grabbed the knife and went on with his day.
When they finished talking, and Spy had left, there was a hollow feeling in his chest. Guilt, was it? Insecurity? Knowing the effect of not being present, it felt as if perhaps he was being given a second chance, yet he wasn’t sure how willing he was to throw it away.
Returning to the base, there were quite a few phone calls made to Miss Pauling, then the Administrator herself. Paperwork, negotiations, how in gods name would he work this out- Convincing Miss Pauling to allow a child into the base-- so long as battles were separate and hidden from their view, had been a breeze, but it was the Administrator, a cold, cruel hag of a woman whom he knew would take issue with the idea. It was to the point that he had been conversing through the night, even just in his white button up and suit pants, but he continued to talk.
What would his teammates think? He dreaded to find out, he merely hoped none of them would question it or tease him, but he knew he would come under fire, if only because he was the Spy, an uncaring, cold, emotionless figure.
At the very least, he knew he had time to pass, since the time in which it would take to get the paperwork in order, a new room built, etcetera, would give him ample time to learn more about who it is he was about to bring to the base.
That next day, a child wakes up to a gift by an unknown donator, all they know is it was a man with a vest and tie, with salt and pepper hair, inside of which is the materials to make the popsicle stick butterfly knife, a soft rabbit plushie, and a note written in a very simple cipher for them to solve.
“Pack your things in two weeks, If you see a woman in purple, she is your friend.”
^They're currently taking donations for Maui mutual aid
"What if the tf2 men used modern slang" lame. You're all too afraid to learn period-accurate 60s/70s slang. You don't want Sniper tf2 to call things "groovy" and "far out" because you are a coward
Inspired by a string of doveposts from medicsmenageries;
Ludwig names all of his doves.
The mercs have tried, and failed, to count how many he owns.
Not even Heavy knows, and he’s the only one allowed to pet the birds.
As mentioned in a previous post, this man can disney-princess style call his babies to his very whim, it’s not unusual to think they bring him his coat in the mornings while he makes coffee.
He just really loves his doves okay?
Guess who got a bunch of 15ai lines for this interaction… 👀 I just don’t know if I can animate it or not.
Seems the old true love post is gaining some traction again, oddly enough! I know I said I wouldn’t give context but…
Well, I remembered the finished products.
A project idea from me and friends that’s pretty under wraps right now since we’re not sure if we’ll go through with it or not (time, hyperfixations, etc.) but the general context for these in particular:
The Fault Fortress team is a team of self aware single player bots based on a glitch that a friend of mine caught on tape, within the video was a lot of incredible things to work off of; such as how spy and scout (the player) took opposite routes to investigate the same goal, blue base, yet the people inside were nowhere to be found.
I’m telling you all this because that’s the most rooted in fact thing we have about it, however the context behind the IMAGES:
BLU spy joins the gang as well as RED Engie, one before the other. When the team of self aware bots are running from vac between worlds, they find a place to shelter in— a cold, snowy and desolate area with a barely insulated wooden shack. But it’s unreachable by vac, so they rest there.
Of course, both are cold and the others already have their own setups.
And so, begrudgingly, they both end up going to the same corner bc they’re COLD and Engie is WARM
Anyways I think since Spy is taller than Engie he has trouble figuring out where to put his legs so he just ends up straddling him lol
This could go two ways:
Internal organ rearrangement speedrun
or
Internal organ addition speedrun
you’re stuck living with your icon for a month have fun
Lemón
Óne singular citrus fruit
TF2 fanblog! Based on the 10th class fic "Ten's a Crowd", AKA Meet the Strategist! Mostly general headcanons, artwork, and fic info here. READ REQUEST RULES PLEASE! ♥
215 posts