Vsevolod Lytkin

Surrounded by so many tiny men! Indie Ask blog / RP blog for Blu heavy OC Vsevolod Lytkin

[bluhoovy-blog]

How To Play Engineer: A TF2 Poem

I whack the machine

I whack the machine again

I whack the machine

[bluhoovy-blog]

Mister BLU Abroad

[bluhoovy-blog]

“Oh" veso mimicked him, watching hopefully to see the man take another tumble. From sitting no less, it would be even more of a feat. This was fitting- he could hardly even be annoyed. He was having the exact opposite problem then Sascha seemed to. Veso had to stop himself from grinning at the German, seeming so small in front of him.

“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.

“Just agree to floor Union? Or vill tiny man get up now.” He tried to goad, wanting to see the medic get vertical. He was only a couple of feet away at this point, worn brown boots close enough to scuff more dirt on the drunk- or at least what veso thought was a drunk. Sascha was so small on the ground; veso couldn’t understand how that got all bossy.

[doctorassistedhomicide]

“Hmmm.” Sascha began, his face scrunching into pure concentration at the Russian’s words. A lot of it seemed to go over his head – or rather he just didn’t seem to care for hurling insults back when there were more important things to do like figure out how to get back to his bunk without tripping over himself – a feat that would be wholly earned with the way the world seemed to jitter and spin around him.

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.

To any bystander, it may have looked like something unsavory was happening – Still on his knees, Sascha’s head was planted squarely on Vesso’s crotch, eyes focused on the ground as he giggled, still mildly amused at the swirling world around them.

[bluhoovy-blog]

As the medic fell- right into his solar plexus and sliding down, hands grabbing and grasping for purchase on his back- Veso realized he had made a mistake. And when he felt the REDs hand find said purchase on his ass as he was struggling to adjust to the man's sudden weight on his center of gravity he realized this was the exact opposite of what he wanted. He wanted to see him bite it- not bite his crotch, which is what it seemed like was happening.

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.

"Что ебут?!" He managed to stutter- did the man even notice he hit the ground? "Vat iz tiny man doing?!" Was that asshole still laughing?

[etcetceteras]

i live for ubersaw duels

i also mostly die in ubersaw duels

[the-gotham-city]

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

Bonus pic:

[bluhoovy-blog]

Mister BLU Abroad

@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.

It was that medic. That RED medic he dropped into the sewers. He was looking a lot different than the last time Veso saw him- soggy and screaming. He was drunk, for one thing, laughing despite the glasses that was crooked on his face from the fall. But that was him. “Do you just like the dirt?” He asked, unable to stop himself as the medic was pushing himself up.

[doctorassistedhomicide]

“No, but it appears to like me.” Sascha replied, still wearing that stupid grin. In truth, he was a bit tickled at his descent – it had been so slow and somehow he’d managed to keep from falling too hard. He blinked a few times as he sat there, bent over and holding himself up with his arms, as if the answer to life was etched somewhere in the dirt he was staring at. It was a good thing after hours, he had resigned to his underclothes – his vest, dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, and trousers, or he’d have been incredibly frustrated at the amount of dirt that would have gotten all over his labcoat.

After a moment, he moved again, sitting back on his legs with his hands placed on his thighs. “Why?” he asked, “Do you like dirt?” Again, he wobbled, though this time before he could go careening back into the dirt again, he steadied himself, squinting a bit at the larger man before him. His eyes seemed to be having trouble focusing, but after a moment, his expression shifted to something more unamused, “Oh…” he said to himself, realizing exactly who it was he was speaking with.

[bluhoovy-blog]

Oh" veso mimicked him, watching hopefully to see the man take another tumble. From sitting no less, it would be even more of a feat. This was fitting- he could hardly even be annoyed. He was having the exact opposite problem then Sascha seemed to. Veso had to stop himself from grinning at the German, seeming so small in front of him.

"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.

"Just agree to floor Union? Or vill tiny man get up now." He tried to goad, wanting to see the medic get vertical. He was only a couple of feet away at this point, worn brown boots close enough to scuff more dirt on the drunk- or at least what veso thought was a drunk. Sascha was so small on the ground; veso couldn't understand how that got all bossy.

[bluhoovy-blog]

Mister BLU Abroad

@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.

It was that medic. That RED medic he dropped into the sewers. He was looking a lot different than the last time Veso saw him- soggy and screaming. He was drunk, for one thing, laughing despite the glasses that was crooked on his face from the fall. But that was him. “Do you just like the dirt?” He asked, unable to stop himself as the medic was pushing himself up.

[doctorassistedhomicide]

Offensive | BluHoovy

[doctorassistedhomicide]

When the BLU had finally let go of him, all Sascha could do was cry out both out of surprise and anger – he hadn’t expected to actually be released, nor had he expected what was to come. The RED was a long way from the ground, and it was evident from the drop – a long drop that was punctuated by a splash. To make things worse, he still had his vest partially over his head when he hit the water, so he hadn’t seen his fate approaching in the slightest.

“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.

The last place he thought he would wind up was the water below – had he been nearby the Russian, he’d have gotten physical but so far away and weaponless all he could do was explode verbally and grasp the gravel that covered the sewer tunnel. “Was ist zum Tuefel falsch mit dir?!” He yelled, flinging a hand full of rocks in the man’s direction as hard as he could. “The sewers? Really?!” If he was lucky one of the rocks would hit the Russian… Do some damage. He didn’t care so long as it was at the very least an inconvenience.

[bluhoovy-blog]

Just because the Russian never learned to swim didn’t mean he had much sympathy for the drowning rat he was watching. If he was truthful- it just meant he was being more spiteful than Sascha would’ve gathered. And the German seemed to be gathering quite a fit over his presumed spite.  Because even without sympathy his gut clenched watching the rat fight his own clothes in the murky water. But the merc was fine. And if he hadn’t been? That would’ve been tragic.

As Sascha was getting more infuriated, Veso was getting more satisfied. It was clear he won, even with all of the man’s spitting and moaning. Case and point- the German’s weak little throw did nothing but spray rocks along the wall and create a series of plops as they reunited with the water. Only one or two little rocks made it as far as to where Veso was standing- he could barely feel it hit a boot. He nudged it back over the edge in a maddeningly familiar motion, not that he would’ve recognized it. “Iz very fitting, Мудак. Just like homeland!” He gave a dismissive motion with his fucked up hand and turned away from the open sewers and the stranded medic, wandering back to get more beer.

[doctorassistedhomicide]

Offensive | BluHoovy

[doctorassistedhomicide]

“Please!” Sascha growled sharply from his unfortunate position, growing impatient. He had no idea what the man was barking at him now, but it did little to quell his exasperation – the BLU clearly wasn’t going to hit him, so why was he so intent on keeping him held in the air? At this rate, he felt as if he were more likely to drop from his vest than be placed down by the Russian. “Put me down and speak English! I have no idea vhat you’re saying und it’s not helping either of us, if you couldn’t tell,” he practically spat. Had his face been visible, the weapons specialist would have been able to see just how red the medic had gotten in the process of being frustrated beyond belief. Not only were his pills gone, but now he was being roughed up and swung around – for what reason, he did not know. Sascha’s hands clawed at the giant’s larger one, attempting to cling to it so that he wouldn’t slide further towards the ground as his body started to finally go partially limp, tired from all of his squirming and flailing. “Or do whatever it is you’re going to do to me, at this point I don’t care so long as I’m not in the air, Himmelherrgott!”

[bluhoovy-blog]

The little man was so bossy. Veso had done nothing but react to him this entire time. Sure, he hadn’t expected sunshine and giggles when he spoke Russian but god if the medic wasn’t a little shit. This was all his fault to begin with and now he wanted to gripe and try to order him around? He twisted his hand- and subsequently his captive- not letting him get a firm grip. “So many demands from small tiny man. Do you think you can pick fights and just decide vhen they are done? Alright, little man can baby out.” The man’s hands hadn’t been able to find a grip around his large wrists, so when Veso released his vest abruptly all he felt was a jerk as the german’s hands slipped over his. It wasn’t that long of a drop to the water, he thought. 

[mozumo]

[tf2-stuff-xoxo]

[doctorassistedhomicide]

Offensive | BluHoovy

[doctorassistedhomicide]

“Was?!” The RED gasped, voice angry, surprised, and anxious all at once, his German now slipping from him along with his professionalism. By now, Sascha was  unaware of his switching between tongues. Still a third of the way out of his vest, he hardly knew where it was he was being swung, only that he hadn’t been put down and judging from the sound of things, it likely wouldn’t be anywhere favorable – at the moment he could not longer feel anything remotely resembling the ground beneath him as his feet kicked around helplessly. “Fritz?!” He continued, tone settling on being irritated, “I apologized to you! What else do you want from me, dummkopf?” Although his arms were still at the sides of his head, it did not stop him from wildly gesturing in time with his words. The medic was nearing the end of his patience and if the Russian didn’t put him down, he was likely to start flailing in search of a surface to land kicks on.

[bluhoovy-blog]

“Appologiez-  фигня!” He sputtered, offended and bewildered at the same time. Unlike Sascha's mindless neglect, Veso’s language hopping was purposeful and near spiteful. He had a hard enough time with English- he didn’t need this German giving him a hard time by going off in German and then trying to fleece him. “Мудак это весело?” He gave the German another shake, almost dropping him as he squirmed.

The man did look pathetic at this point. If Veso had a couple more minutes to calm down he would think it comical. The doctor’s vest seams were ripping, and he was sinking further into it. He couldn’t put his arms down, even if he wanted to after gesturing and flinging himself around like that.

[insect-ary]

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 

Still more comin’ soon :P 

[thedisc0urse]

Heavy is so Tsundere by ~TimeLordEnglish

[eggbob]

This update was a little different from what i expected, but dang do I need those reskins

[onlyparkland]

Inktober #07. Miss Pauling! <3 

(I’m still a day behind!)

[lambdageneration]

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

http://www.teamfortress.com/invasion/credits.html

[bluhoovy-blog]

Reassurances

[rudenblu-deactivated20211222]

Rudy gently tapped the top of Veso’s pinky – or rather what was left of it – with a quiet, thoughtful hum. Or maybe it was a sigh. It was hard to tell with his face obstructed by his mask. “Nih huh hun hal,” he insisted, gently squeezing the man’s hand before he moved onto the next one, tracing the edges around his fingers until he came to rest at the empty spot where the man’s ring finger would have been. There was a small whine before he arched his neck, burying part of his head further into the man. He partly wondered what happened to the digits, but said nothing – instead bringing his knees up to his chest as he leaned against the bear, still holding his hand.

[bluhoovy-blog]

“Still 8.” It was a familiar conversation- one they had often. But it was fond, more then exasperated. Like a worn-in sweater. And watching him fiddle and count his fingers was just as routine. It felt like something familial– something his daughter might have done.

 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. 

 That was unwelcome. And did nothing to help the pyro that was almost shaking against him. So he shook himself out of it. "You should see foot. " he said idly, rubbing his back. "You cannot even count piggies." He never had to deal with upset children past split knees- his comfort was more distractions. "Trees make for flat feet."