#agent dmitri strelnikov

[dam-thats-blue]

Might as well post here too since Twitter is loving it, pick your poison.

[oopsarboreal]

Thing I doodled for @bluisbeingstupid!!

[kaiz0n3]

I've gotten a printer... I'm unstoppable now with my Strelnikov wall my... My... Wall... Strelnikov 🤤🤤

[keysorsomething]

Стопка

You will NOT guess what I've done...

Here's the Strelknov-Reader fic lmaoo. This is a little shorter than I was hoping, but I will give this another chapter at least

Cross-posted on Ao3

Site-19 was larger than you could ever imagine. You worked at a dinky site back in your home country, and now you were bundled up as you entered into the largest Site in the whole of the Foundation. The middle of Siberia was beautiful, coated in a thick, untouched layer of snow. The kind that's so perfect it makes you want to run off and ruin it, some primal itch that has you having to take a deep breath to root yourself to the ground where you’re walking in.

You’ve heard so much about this place, all the stuff that they house here and the names of the people that work there. So many of them are well-known and famous, even if many of them went between -19 and -17 often.

It was some big celebration, something classified the 05s are doing. Maybe building a new Site? Maybe something big like -19? You don’t know, to be honest. That’s how it works, they make you do something and yet never explain why to you because it’s “classified”. However, you knew how rare it was to ever even see Site-19 in person, despite how many people worked there.

The Foundation had many, many, many, employees. Some worked on the various smaller Sites, some on Site-19, and there was a small portion of people who worked in government facilities as double agents. You don’t know a lot about that, never having done it. Again, classification makes information harder to pass between people. You pass by the outside training area, following the flood of people that are spilling into the entrance of the Site. You, however, pause as you hear a shout over the landscape. You turn, looking through the fences as you catch the movement of people running on the track. At first, you feel bad for the agents out there. It’s freezing, and you know that your body warms up as you work out, but still. In the snow?

Then you see the man yelling. He’s standing off to the side, a black mass on the ground that is probably a jacket of some form. His shirt is tight, a size or two too small considering how obviously buff he is. He’s facing away from you, so you can only see the way the shirt is stretched over his back and arms.

“Checking out Strelnikov?” A voice comes from behind you, and you flinch back. You whip around to see who is pointing this out. A woman, with blonde hair pulled back into a lab-safe style stands behind you. You think for a moment, trying not to embarrass yourself.

“No,” You shake your head quickly, trying to stop yourself from blubbering or stammering over any words. “I was just curious about what they were doing outside in the cold here, and he’s barely clothed!” It isn’t inherently true, he is fully clothed, just thinly. There’s snow on the ground for god’s sake, and yet he’s standing there in just a t-shirt.

“That’s what the nurses say, too,” The woman huffs. “And the Site-17 medbay is always understaffed.”

You look away. Back to Strelnikov - while you’re trying to remember where you’ve heard that name before - so you don’t have to admit to this stranger the truth about what you’re thinking.

“Does it matter?” You ask her, trying to take control back, or at least seem semi-stable and capable of taking control of situations. You catch the movement of her shaking her head from the corner of your eye.

“I wasn’t trying to embarrass you,” She replies, even though you’re fairly certain that is a lie. “You were just in the way. Plenty of people do that often. You couldn’t imagine the struggle I have trying to find him when something is important.”

You furrow your brow and turn back to her, “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, he’s always sleeping around,” She shrugs, saying it as if it means nothing. “You should go inside, you’ll be able to check him out at the party, well,” She cracks a smile, before starting to walk away. After a moment of standing there, you follow her, deciding not to stand in the way of anyone else.

You look nice, you can say that. Fancy clothes, nicely fitted. You can afford it now that you work at the Foundation. You don’t need them often, but everyone is dressed well now. A little too well dressed to be at something that could be described as this - people were drunk, obviously so, as well as dancing dirty. You squeeze past a couple, making your way to the bar. You order from the nice, grinning bartender who makes your drink as quickly as possible.

A hulking form moves in next to you as you're handed your drink. “Стопка,” A deep, gruff voice orders the bartender. You turn, looking back at the man behind you. His face is broad, his bone structure prominent. His hair is short, buzzed on the side, and grays are starting to spring up in the roots of his hair. He's in a simple, white undershirt with no jacket. It's slightly too small for him, showing off the defined musculature underneath - nothing unusual for the career path you had chosen, but still noticeable with his age.

“Of course, sir,” The bartender responds cheerfully. He pours a shot - and then a few more - before placing them in front of the man.

“And the usual for the bastard,” He huffs, waving his hand. He reaches out, taking the first shot in one expert gulp. He slams the glass down, glancing to you once he does. A brief glimpse of amusement graces his face, his teeth glinting metallicly in the light. His eyes shine mirthfully, “Hello,” He greets, scanning over your features. When you go to meet his eyes, his gaze slides against yours, missing making direct contact. You can’t tell if it’s intentional or not, but it does give you a good look at his long eyelashes and shiny, grey eyes. He reaches his hand up, but he doesn’t touch you, “Sorry, I did not mean to crowd you, hm?” He moves back a bit, giving you more space. Something about it was oddly charming.

“It’s okay,” You reply, scooting your chair to give him more space. He once again fills the space, taking a second shot. You feel the butterflies from earlier return, as you look over him. You debate, for a long moment, before you take a long breath. “What's your name?” You ask, trying to sound more confident than you actually are.

“Strelnikov, Dmitri Arkadeyevich,” He practices in a trained manner, something you can tell he repeats every time he introduces himself. Not that you're thinking about it over the fact that this is the guy you were totally checking out earlier. When he offers his hand, you take it. You almost expect from looking at him - rough, nearing fifties, Russian man who has some military training - that his grip would be hand-breaking, painful. But he's surely aware of your bones. It's by no means gentle, but you know this construction is far from as tight as he could go. You tell him your name, and he briefly smiles. “Nice name, very fitting,” His accent causes the words to have a stiff, staccato sound to them.

The more pieces that came together the more and more you feel you're fighting not to kick your legs and giggle. You shift on the stool, as he asks you simple questions. Just getting to know you stuff: “What Site do you work at?”, “What department are you in?”, but the conversation is cut short. The drink is handed to him, and he checks it over. It looks terrible and smells just as bad, but it isn't for him.

“It appears I must go. Clef will be unhappy if he waits any longer,” He tells you, apologetically. So that's what you know him from. “But, if you would like,” He shrugs. “My room number is 6299, on the personnel level,” He tells you as if it's the most casual thing in the world. “Knock and I will answer.”

He leaves without waiting for a response, disappearing into the crowd.

It's better not to bother Clef, anyway.

[keysorsomething]

ahh the og favorite Russian man <<33

Agent strelnikov pls🥺🥺

here

[4bsurdist]

c can you draw dmitri/agent strelnikov 🥹

so sorry for taking so long, life happened

look at him. oomf. pookie. friend shaped. probably what clef thought when he saw him. i think so too

[what-thefuckisthis]

Uhh yeah

My baby.

Original image:

[aronaax]

strelnikov ! ! i dont think ive drawn him before

+ him and ani bc i think they’d be besties

[scp4palestine]

Eventyr Agents Strelnikov and Adams dance into the night… This commission was sent in by @fly-purgatorio and drawn by @rottingraisins!

If you would like an SCP commission in exchange for helping families in need, check out our Pinned Post for more info!

[oddsandends58exe]

I was asked to draw Димка ^_^

[crimsonlorette]

Is that right? That's not right.

Translation from Chinese: What's the point of working here?

[dam-thats-blue]

You guys loved the 8hr flight one so I made another with much more (though still popular characters, sorry if your fav isn’t on here I tried to cram as many in as possible.)

It’s lunch time, pick your poison.

[oopsarboreal]

Handing my characters babies and then evaporating. Again.

wahooo

📝 Agent Dmitri Strelnikov!

he put her in a sack 😭 that’s two Foundation personnel that don’t know how to carry children. but he immediately made his new fatherhood known to everyone, so he’s gonna take it seriously.

⭐️Dad rating: 9/10. She’s gonna be tough as nails. And possibly an alcoholic, but let’s be hopeful.

📝 Dr Jack Bright

this is… unironically the longest message I’ve ever seen generated. Some 1000+ characters. I guess it’s a bug going on. Anyway,

⭐️Dad rating: 1/10. I can’t think of a man more designed for anything but fatherhood. He might have some life experience advice, but having anyone depend on him is one of the Worst Ideas™️

📝 Dr Benjamin Kondraki

aha, this almost always decides the baby is Draven because all I fed the AI was that he has a son named Draven and he’s in an MTF. Alto’s AI has more info on Meri, so it only drew a comparison. Interesting stuff!

⭐️ Dad rating: 7.5/10. Kondraki’s reckless, constantly-getting-into-gunfights life isn’t ideal for a child, but he’d be absolutely devoted to him.

📝Dr Rodney Gerald

⭐️ Dad rating: 3/10. The baby is going to explode.

[kaiz0n3]

I need to headbutt Agent Dmitri Strelnikov(Affectionate)

[keysorsomething]

....thinking about over-analyzing poorly written, painfully aged 2009 SCP Tale Clef and Dmitri Hit the Road....

thinking about those two annoying bastards and how odd their relationship is in the context of Clef's character/persona and thinking about how much I love them my sillies

[bluisbeingstupid]

ggrrfggg......