Vsevolod Lytkin

“Like to see you in dirt. Perhaps iz German trait.” He answered, frank and clearly enjoying this. He never played into party loyalty with the mercs- they were all professionals. They were all getting paid to kill each other. All agreeing, nice nice. Veso could not fault them for being enthusiastic about it. But playing into national loyalty? Or more specifically anti-German sentiments? He never got a chance to get over the war. It didn’t even occur to him to try. And maybe their less than stellar first meeting only added to that.

Rather than speak, the german pushed up on his thighs, attempting to stand, though before he could do much, he was losing his balance again, thankfully or not thankfully in the larger man’s direction. Reaching out, he grabbed and whatever he could – arms hugging around the weapon’s specialist’s legs, hands firmly placed on the man’s rear. Had the BLU not been wearing a belt, Sascha would have likely pulled the man’s pants down with the way he clinged, looking absolutely ridiculous.

Add to that the sudden sensation of his own pants starting to jerk down and slide as the medic continued to support himself, all that was left was a startled Veso. With a strangled yelp the munitions expert tried to both save his pants and steady himself from at the same time, managing only one successfully. His attempts at correcting his balance, managed leg kicking out to offer a counter weight, led to a knee to the German's chest, an aborted half step and a shuffling side step that resulted in the large mans much quicker descent. It felt like he was immediately on the ground, grunting and hands caught up in his pants. He didn't even want to think about the other mans hands trapped in his fall.

i live for ubersaw duels

I have let them down enough. They must never be put in danger again.

Bonus pic:

@doctorassistedhomicide

Veso had tried to keep himself busy. There hadn’t been fighting for days, no leaving the base, no nothing in or out. So he had read the books he had, practiced shots and trained and ate. But there were only so many russian books in all of 2fort, and Mal had laughed at him when he asked. And with everything shut down all the other mercs were training, or fucking off, generally being annoying. Ruddy was tailing someone else, but Veso thought he could scrounge up a game of cards with the pyro if he could find him.

He looked through the base and only found clusters of other mercs. He headed outside- looking for some engineer he could have been tailing. He was just admitting defeat and crossing the covered bridges between the bases when he caught sight of someone ducking around the side of the RED base. He followed, more on a whim than any conviction that that’s who he was looking for. When he rounded the corner all he saw was a man, wobbling and obviously drunk. The fool wasn’t even hugging the wall but was tripping over himself standing alone. It was magnificent timing, as Veso watched the man slowly trip and tumble over himself like a trainwreck. It wasn’t a fast fall- rather the man tripped over his feet once and tried to correct, swinging this way and that before gravity took him and he crumpled to the ground. Rather than be upset about it- the man just lied there and laughed, a choked sort of sound until he got rolling with it, turning his head to face the weapons specialist, still on the ground.

"Like to see you in dirt. Perhaps iz German trait." He answered, frank and clearly enjoying this. He never played into party loyalty with the mercs- they were all professionals. They were all getting paid to kill each other. All agreeing, nice nice. Veso could not fault them for being enthusiastic about it. But playing into national loyalty? Or more specifically anti-German sentiments? He never got a chance to get over the war. It didn't even occur to him to try. And maybe their less than stellar first meeting only added to that.

“FICK!” The RED thrashed in the water, not particularly caring how loud he was being – he was doing his best not to drown what with being tangled up in his vest. It was by mere luck he’d managed to get to one of the sides of the sewers, sputtering indignantly like a wet cat at the silhouette above and opposite of him as he did his best to pull the soggy garment into place, “Was zum Teufel?!” he shouted, voice trembling out of sheer anger, face as red as a tomato.

another tf2 postcards !!

the engineer one have a more Jim Flora in his vein

Haven’t done sniper though, and am planning a solo Ms. Pauling piece 

Inktober #07. Miss Pauling! <3 

Gif-set of the Invasion Update short to celebrate the tremendous work done by the community. 

 He froze, body on autopilot as Rudy whimpered and clung. He folded his hand over the smaller pyro’s, hoping to break that imagery. Of his child in the same position. She would be about Rudy’s age, wouldn’t she? And Leo would not be far behind. He never thought of them. Or how they would ever react to the changes in their Batya.