#( how did your debts get paid? )

[nichtschaden]

Choke It Down, Spit It Out

@blusollyjd This would be easier with somebody he didn't really know. If the person knew who he was, it would be easier for them to get all judgemental. Maybe they wouldn't look at him the same way after. That would be worse than anything. Still, he had his reputation. Everyone knew who he was, for better or worse- he'd kicked down a door after all, he and Tavish. As ugly as the whole affair got for a while, you saw more people reaching across enemy lines now. Not afraid to make friends, or more, with people they liked. It'd made Jane famous. Or infamous, depending on who you asked. But fame was different than really knowing, right? And above all, he couldn't go to Abel with this. He gave his poor husband enough to worry about. Sometimes he felt like a burden and it made him want to drive his fist through the wall in frustration. But if not Abel, than who? People had come and gone. And he didn't want to go to some giggling maggot whose suggestion for helping with this would be to saw his skull open or some ridiculous crap like that. And then, Jane thought of the guy he'd briefly met on Halloween. The guy who'd given him coffee. BLU. Seemed to have his head on straight. Didn't seem like the kind of guy who would have an animate head in his refrigerator. So, fine then. That guy. Jane's eyes squinted under his helmet. 'Dr. F. Finitzer'. The nameplate said the same thing that it had the last ten times he read it, and standing here like a slack-jawed recruit wasn't going to do him any good. Man up, Soldier. Breathing in, Jane gave a few hard raps against the office door and immediately began pacing like a caged mountain lion, hands clutched behind his back, steps even and rigid in standard military marching cadence. He was wound like a spring. But even he knew he had to do something about this. The feeling he kept feeling since he got back... it was almost a liability today. He would not allow that of himself.

Whether Jane knew or not, the man he'd settled on had followed in his wake. Fritz had crossed company lines in more ways than one, and the consequence was encased in metal beneath his left boot. He was terrified the worst was yet to come, after an idle visit to Dr. Haswell in the RED medbay had ended in his tampering with their respawn machine to resurrect a Scout it had failed to bring back. A senseless death if there ever was one, he hadn't cared what color the kid wore.

But it made him uneasy. It was a far graver transgression than the one that resulted in his brace. So when there was a knock against the door of his glorified closet of an office, Fritz's head snapped up in half a heartbeat. For a moment, he froze, a porcelain statue, listening. Waiting. The heavy footfalls pacing outside caved his shoulders a fraction, and the hand against the hidden revolver dropped. It wasn't the administrator spy, the bastard would never be so loud. Though it did make him wonder, who would knock on his door when the nicest man alive set up office two doors down. Or why this person wouldn't go to the medbay -- there was nothing in Fritz's office but a file cabinet, a tiny desk and two folding chairs.

He climbed to his feet with a grimace as weight was put on his bad leg, but it left his face quickly. He was used to it after so many years. "Jack, if that's you, you have your own damn coffee."

There was no hiding the mild shock behind aviator glasses when the opened door revealed Jane. His mind shifted quickly into the how and why Jane would knock on his door instead of Abel's, the man was not only his partner but a better doctor in spades, and the conclusion he landed on in that microsecond was the worst.

"What happened? Is it Abel?"

Then again, would the soldier have shown restraint if the veteran medic was in trouble? Fritz doubted he'd still have a door. He shook his head and quickly backtracked.

"Sorry, I just. Rough week, I assumed the worst. Come, ah. Come in. The coffee's fresh. You're not injured, are you, because this broom closet really isn't the place to handle that."

[nichtschaden]

☂

Send me a ☂ to find my character in a dark alley in the middle of a storm, beaten and bloody | accepting

The world was a confusing smear of pain, colors, and a relentless rain. His back was against the wall, legs soaked where they lay on the pavement of the alley. The cold sting of rain felt good against the swollen half of his face, but sharp as needles where it dug into split skin.

Four people had jumped him. One was unconscious or dead, further down the alley, two more had staggered off carrying a third. He wasn't even sure what they'd wanted, two had grabbed him and battle instinct swallowed the German entirely. His left arm was broken, his bad leg was howling in pain, and his glasses were somewhere on the ground, probably submerged in a puddle. He doubted his ability to find them in broad daylight, let alone the pitch black of the storm.

A lightning flash and a slosh of feet through water brought his attention screaming to another human being in that alley, and the revolver he carried was in his hand in an instant. Fritz had no hope of hitting any target in that screaming dark with no glasses, and he blinked through the water that sluiced through his sopping black hair.

"Who are you!?"

[nichtschaden]

@zehypocriticaloath | previous

The ravens bobbed their heads in excitement as the Medic called out to their beloved owner. From a far corner of the wing a curtain was swiftly pushed aside by a bloodied hand. There was a scrutinizing scowl on his face. The dark, almost cassock-like robes of his more morbid, custom looking uniform was flecked with just the slightest hint of visceral splatter. At least he wasn’t wearing the beaked mask or hat.

“The Spy?” His bright eye burned with ingenious wit. “He’s a piece of shit. Please tell me you took his head. He obviously isn’t thinking with it.”

Picking up a rag to wipe off his hands, the much shorter man strode briskly and confidently across the expanse of his lab towards him. He walked with the crisp. rhythmic cycle that could easily give one the idea of a military step. Giving him a wild grin, he gestured towards him in surprise. “What are you doing here? Not that you’re not welcome. I usually get some hint from my brother that you’re coming.” His expression fell, darkening. “Are you in trouble? Who do I need to kill?”

The ravens overhead in the rafters crowed along with their own laughs. They were tittering sounds of mocked human sounds, but they worked well enough for the occasion. Aldous took the moment to properly wash his hands before returning to him. With a silent gesture he motioned towards the stove. It was clear he was asking him if he wanted coffee.

Fritz couldn't help but smirk at the dramatic entrance, and he shook his head as a hand reached up to beckon Poe down. The biggest raven would move if he damn well felt like it, but it couldn't hurt to try.

"I'm not on the clock right now. Besides, wouldn't you be suspicious? Seeing my gangly BLU self in your base for the first time? Nein, he gets one free pass. At least until he starts to piss me off on the field. Poe, get down here and love me, you rude ass chicken."

For as taller as he was, Fritz rarely commanded any room that Aldous was in. The elder German held attention absolutely, and without question. In his own domain, Fritz was very much a visitor, and the inquiry as to his motives for the visit earned a cheeky grin.

"Your brother doesn't see everything. I dodge spies for a living, he can't catch me every time." Fritz gave up his quest for Poe's affection at the shift in his master's tone. "I'm not in trouble, and this may come as a shock, but I am a paid mercenary, I can handle my own people who need to be killed."

Fritz almost missed the gesture as he squinted for a look at Lenore in the rafters, and Aldous was given a nod. "Oh yes, always. I'll never turn down coffee."

He craned a neck behind the curtain to see the latest victim, well-deserved, he was sure, and thought better of it. Sometimes, when it came to both Haswells, it was best not to know. Though, while the man had his coat off and his back turned, Fritz turned a critical eye on Aldous instead.

"I've seen scouts with more meat than you, am I going to have to start meal prepping for both of us again? I'll fucking do it. Human needs, Aldous, you're a doctor, you know what they are."

[nichtschaden]

@zecuddlyblumedic

The medbay doors were all but kicked open as Fritz crossed the room in three strides to plant his hands on veteran's desk.

"Tell me how the fuck to befriend the crows outside, I've been trying for a week!"

[nichtschaden]

@zehypocriticaloath

The RED spy must have been new, because it was not the veteran who more or less left the enemy medic alone when he made his way into their base. They had an understanding. The sniper, well. That had been a few headshots before Fritz had been allowed to enter the base unhindered. He wondered if his quarry hadn't threatened that truce into existence.

This spy, he'd never met. It didn't matter, Fritz was a medic -- their favorite prey. The whisper of a dropped cloak and the rustle of expensive fabric lifting to plant a knife in his back was a song he knew well.

Fritz shot to the left and grabbed the Spy's hand, and spun the shorter man into a rough pin against the concrete wall. A French curse escaped him as the revolver was taken and tossed away. Fritz held him fast and leaned close to his ear.

"I'll tell you what I told your elder. I'm a fucking medic, I have no use for your company intelligence. Killing your teammates is no more satisfying in the dead of night than it is on the field. I'm just here to see Dr. Haswell."

"The doctor? He'll gut you worse than I ever could!" the spy's genuine confusion earned a smirk from the medic, who turned and shoved him down the hall toward his weapon.

"I'll take my chances."

Without another word, the medic strode to the Haswell lab, knocked twice, and let himself in. He was welcomed to the sight of ravens preening in the rafters, and he gave them all a grin.

"Aldous? You here, old man? Not impressed with your newest recruit, by the way, he needs some work."

[nichtschaden]

How did your debts get paid?

@zehypocriticaloath | continued

"It wasn't a competition." Fritz's thoughts gathered in English at last, and he reached under his aviators to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I was scared your chip might be carved out, and I had good reason to be. No one is coming for mine!"

Not that it mattered when Haswell had made up his mind, but his scowl was returned.

"If you get caught just to be even with me, for a race that shouldn't be a race, I really will take the kids and leave." An empty threat, and they both knew it, but the idea still turned his stomach. At the very least, it was going to be a bit before Aldous could break into his own base -- there was still a sick scout to care for. And he was promised morning coffee.

"Oh mein Gott," he muttered at the veteran's threat as he climbed to his feet, "read to your fucking birds, I'll go make myself a bed."

The sharp ache in his bad leg reminded him just how long he'd sat idle, and Fritz held his controlled exhale until he made it to the linen cupboard. He left the empty bed beside the scout vacant and dressed the one beside that as efficiently as Aldous had not so long ago. The medic did pause to check his vitals, and although he didn't love the story they told, Bosco would still live. He needed rest, fluids, calories and time, but he would bounce back.

He didn't care enough to look for something softer to sleep in, he just unbuttoned his shirt. The jacket and tie had already been left on a chair so he could borrow Aldous' to work on the machine. His boots were slipped off, and if the veteran was paying attention, he'd get to see Fritz roll up a pant leg to reveal the metal brace that was fixed over his left calf. It was unstrapped and laid beside his boots and his glasses were left on the nightstand before he tugged the blanket over his shoulder and rolled onto his side, away from the doctor.

Fritz thought he'd lay there awake for another hour or two at least, if his insomnia chose to show mercy, but he was wrong. The toll of the day pulled him down into sleep within half an hour. His dreams were nebulous, and they weren't enough to wake him.

[nichtschaden]

TF2 Verse | open

Getting any vehicle started in the freezing temperatures of Coldfront was a challenge, but the road out was mercifully plowed, and the base needed supplies. The medic always found it odd that both teams more or less shared a garage, but it probably came down to it's being removed from the field. Neither company wanted to replace their cars.

Of course, his usual victim, the only one he could find keys to, didn't want to play nice. Fritz had been fighting with it for going on twenty minutes, and his light German accent was filtering through the windows as the dashboard continued to flash it's indignation.

"Choke... CHOKE. One-eight hundred CHOKE this fucking-" the van horn blared with the slam of his fist, "PIECE of SHIT!"

Of course, that did nothing to aid his efforts. The medic dragged both hands down his face and all but kicked the door back open.

[nichtschaden]

Slice of Life

Mornings always tried his patience. Getting up after a long night of tossing and turning, not resting but not rising out of sheer stubbornness. As if that could defeat his own insomnia. It always seemed to relent just an hour or two before his alarm. Enough to make getting up that much harder.

With a grumbled curse in German, and a blind swat at the shrieking clock, the alarm was silenced. Fritz laid there a beat longer before dragging his tall, wiry frame out of bed. Pulled on his clothes of the day and staggered into the infirmary. Everything would improve once he'd gulped down that first cup of coffee. The daily tasks wouldn't be so bad, he could grab his tools and work on the cannon before the place got up to any real shenanigans, it'd be fine. It'd all be fine if he could just get through that first brew-

Blue eyes narrowed behind aviator lenses at the empty space behind the cabinet door, where the coffee bag should be. Should be and wasn't. He stared for almost half a minute before, like a man in a trance, Fritz pushed the cabinet door shut. It had the audacity to squeak at him as he did. "... There is no joy in this world."

It was too fucking early to consider bribery or thievery, but it wasn't off the table. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

[nichtschaden]

ϖ

accidentally send him nudes | accepting

Fritz grumbled, still sore from when Damien ran into him, sending his stack of manilla enveloped reports flying. The Spy had swiped his own from the floor and carried on, wishing him well in cheeky French. Fritz wondered if Damien hadn’t figured out he could actually speak French yet.

Still, those reports weren’t going to do themselves. So the Medic poured himself a cup of coffee, took a sip and shook one envelope open, only to find an extremely lewd picture of the Spy himself.

Fritz choked a bit on the coffee, eyebrows raising in incredulous amusement. The mug was set aside, the palm of his hand instead propping his head as he studied the photograph.

      “Who has this kind of time?” he mused, only to find the envelope contained several more. “And who’s going to get gifted with someone’s medical report instead?”

A final shake of his head, and he sealed the photos again, vowing to slip them back under the RED’s door when he was done with his paperwork. Part of him wished he could see the look of horror when the man realized who actually had his pictures.

[nichtschaden]

((If it's okay to send one.)) ‘Good luck!’

Fritz smirked, checking his Kritzkrieg a final time before the Administrator began to count down.

      “You, too. Be careful, find me if you need help. Or I’ll find you, I’ve never been much of a pocket.”

It was true, he tended to stop and heal anyone. He was fast enough to catch his teammates, no sense in ignoring them in favor of someone who needed him less.

[nichtschaden]

🛒- Your muse finds mine napping in an unusual spot…

The last thing he expected when he opened a supply locker was a sleeping Scout. Fritz blinked once, twice, and then nudged a cleat with his boot.

      “Who hurt you so bad you’re sleeping in a locker. Go find a bed, Russel, that’s an order.”

[nichtschaden]

“Tonight your ass will be visited by three ghosts! My foot! My other foot! AND A GHOST!“ *frowns at the cue card* Who writes this stuff? I wear CLEATS, has anyone even considered that?

Fritz threw his head back and laughed, clapping as he did.

      “That was Jane, honestly. Sometimes I have to write down the shit he says because it’s too good.” 

[nichtschaden]

tag dump 1/?

[nichtschaden]

tags in progress?

I’ve never made these before, I guess if you have any suggestions let me know? They’re still a work in progress. And I still need to make the tf2 merc tags rip

(Would you like a SECOND OPINION?) | ooc

(I’ve got BLOOD on my name) | Overwatch verse

(Pick up the gun, kid. You’ve got work to do.) | The Blackwatch Days

(How DID your debts get paid?) | TF2 verse

(I’ve got spurs - that jingle jangle jingle) | Apocalypse verse

(Above all - do no harm) | Outlast verse

(The infected don’t attack their own. It’s PEOPLE who are eating each other.) The Last of Us verse

(You graceful teleporting bastard) Genji 

(A smoking gun and a Cheshire grin) | McCree

(What’s wrong with rocket jumping?) | Pharah

(I would have died for you. I may still get that chance.) | Reaper

(Family can be a commanding officer) | Gabriel Reyes

(Your sights only see the enemy. Don’t forget those who care.) | Soldier 76

(Who? Oh right. The man in charge.) | Jack Morrison

(Not much use hacking a dead man) | Sombra

(I couldn’t catch you if I tried) | Tracer

(I remember your prime directive - even if they don’t) Bastion

(I know what it’s like to live with a fatal mistake) | Hanzo

(Aiming is overrated) | Junkrat

(Cryofrozen, and yet you embrace the cold) | Mei

(I thought I ordered a chair?) | Torbjorn

(Bullets and poison) | Widowmaker

(Top of the scoreboard again?) D.Va

(You’re a better dad than mine ever was) Reinhardt

(Watch where you throw that thing) Roadhog

(Please don’t hulk out) | Winston

(You could break me in half and look good doing it) Zarya

(You might have to bail me out. Again.) | Ana

(I’ve never seen a frog do that) | Lucio

(Sometimes you have to break your oath) | Mercy

(Turrets for days) | Symmetra

(I’ll watch your back if you watch mine) | Zenyatta