Welcome to my blog! I’m here to take requests and write stories for u guys :33 I love writing for niche characters and my own OCs. Take a view at my fandom list and master lists!
You ever wanted to read scenarios about something/someone but can’t seem to find any content for it? Well request here!
MASTERLIST :P
FANDOM MASTERLIST :3
~~~~~
WHAT DO I WRITE?
Headcanons
Short scenarios
+ sometimes full fics…
What will i write?
Yandere scenarios of course! While writing this specific kind of character isn’t my norm, I’ve certainly read a lot. I’ll write for absolutely any type of character, MOST scenarios, and personalities.
This include humans, non humans, jobs, creatures, eldritch beings, etc!
I of course have things I don’t feel comfortable writing, however I’ll reveal those as time goes by since I wouldn’t know how to list them.
FANDOM LIST
The Boys
No Im Not a Human
Hellboy
Stardew Valley
Creepypasta
Slasher/Horror
The Gaslight District
—
Now, please do send in requests! I’m excited for this blog and be as creative as ya want :D
i stayed up late to make these but i love almond so heres them in different states of bothered .going to bed now because i can hardly see but i hope you like them :)
do you wanna hear me chatter about a niche fictional ai? if not obliterate this ask immediately.
if yes, however, then let me promote my favorite audiobook series Bob and Nikki and the Gene.
also spoilers for the book and this dude's history i yap too much (im only on book 7 as of now too so it may be not be fully accurate)
Gene is the ai for the Ship (think like Hal 9000, but much larger) Bob and Nikki find and repair in book 6, and is >34,000 years old! he was originally a part of the Galactic commonwealth navy before it was disbanded (if you want to know why listen to the books yourself) and then was mothballed and had his memories locked behind an access code, along with tons of military bots who got the same treatment, like Scottie!!.
later, however, Gene was found by a small colony transport company and repurposed to be used as a colony ship (along with all those bots to be 'crew' [some galactics are racist towards bots :(]). this is why his cargo bays are in such inconvenient places and why he has fighter ships in his launch bay (the modern galactic patrol only have stunners and things like guns are unheard of!!).
after an indeterminate amount of time of the company discreetly using an ex-war vessel to transport cargo to colonies, they beamed (FTLed?) into our outer system and got struck with a meteor shower, causing major damage to the hull of Gene, and jamming the launch bay doors, causing the (human [galactics are basically just humans and can have kids with them]) crew to use escape pods to get out, however the emitters for those failed, so they commanded gene to open the airlock to use the vacuum to get launched. that was the last command, and words, he ever got from them. this is the books theory for why humans and galactics are so similiar.
after, the bots, who yes, all were abandoned in the chaos, eventually chose to shut each other down, and probably shut Gene down too. and that's how he stayed for 34,000 years.
luckily, bob and nikki stumbled upon the wreck and managed to repair him!! I LOVE THE BOTS IT THIS SERIES PEOPLE WHO LIKE SCI-FI ROMANCE WITH NERDY STUFF IN IT NEED TO LISTEN TO THIS SERIES!!!!
okay chaos rant over.
go my tism, make this series popular.
ok i know i'm seeing this really late but WOWE this actually sounds very interesting?? I love hearing about new bot media..thank you and i will now share this with the world
ouugh.. can you feed us more AImond content please
we are starving..
hi guys…im absolutely planning on it :3 I’d love some more requests for almond bc I’ve been thirsting for computers lately. Also im back lolll semester is over which means me want more fanfic 😍
I've always wanted to read a reader insert (I'd appreciate it being gender neutral that way everyone can read it) where the reader knows Georgian. Either they picked it up in college/university or perhaps they had a friend from Georgia before the catastrophe.
Wireface is ecstatic to have someone to finally talk to— even if it may be a bit butchered. It'd be so funny if alongside his melancholy, he's sarcastic, snippy, and maybe even has a dirty sense of humour. That's how we got found out. He said something out of pocket and it made us laugh, and he just 😧🤨🤨🤨 because what do you mean you understood what I said???
I can see this being Fluff/Angst but if you want to make it 18+ I won't be mad about it 😏😏😏
Happy writing!!!
this was a really cute request. i dont read a lot of wireface stuff so i hope this isnt super out of character >_< im willing to do multiple parts if anyone wants btw, calling this a oneshot for now
WIREFACE˖᯽ ݁˖ tell me, friend.
word count : 1412
dialogue is slightly suggestive, mostly fluff
Reader was a new guest in the Protagonist's home. They were crammed into the small closet space, alongside another interesting guest.
(I'll be providing translations so its easier to read, i'll be using atbash but basically they speak Georgian together :p)
The home owner claimed his home was full at the moment, so he had to cram you into his small closet room. When he opened the door, you visibly relaxed when only one other man was inhabiting the small area. You settled in the far corner, to give both of you the space. He was a stranger after all, he only eyed you curiously as you took your spot. The first day with him was quiet, but not awkward. You looked at him when he wasn't looking, but he could feel your eyes on him. He had distinct marks on his lips, you had learned from the home owner that he arrived with his mouth sewn shut. You winced just thinking about what he had gone through. Occasionally, he would pick at the small scars, seeming to forget about how raw they still were.
You were looking around the closet for about the tenth time today while he sat close to the door. Some bins, books, picture frames…
"Ui…hsrg..(ow..shit)"
You heard him mumble to himself, his hand flinching away from his face. You flicked your gaze to him, he had his brows furrowed as he stared at his hand.
"What's wrong?"
He turned at the sound of your voice. You haven't spoken to him until now. He thought, and understood, that perhaps he looked frightening. Or maybe you were just quiet, as scared of the outside world as everyone else was. In reality, you were just working up the courage to speak. Now that you get a closer look, one of his lip scars had a bead of blood--his finger had a small stain.
He wiped it carelessly against his pants, placing his elbows on his knees.
"Wro-ong?" He tried to enunciate the word. "R gsrmp gszg nvzmh gilfyov, li hlnvgsrmt. Gsviv rh ml gilfyov. R szev ovzimvw z olg lu mvd dliwh sviv…sfs, gsv slnvldmvi tvgh uifhgizgvw vzhrob gslfts.."
(I think that means trouble, or something. There is no trouble. I have learned a lot of new words here…huh, the homeowner gets frustrated easily though..)
He muttered, furrowing his brows in a slight scowl. You blinked, processing his words. You were instantly hit with a wave of… nostalgia? Recognition? In your last recent year of University--precisely some time before the catastrophe--you took a foreign languages class. You recognized a few of his words..he must be Georgian. It's been a while..you can't say that you caught onto the words quick enough.
The next second, he had his attention focused on you. "Wrw blf zhp ru R dzh rm gilfyov li hlnvgsrmt? Nb nlfgs rh qfhg yovvwrmt z orggov, szkkvmh, svs. Ru gsv slnvldmvi ovgh nv, R'oo szev gl xovzm rg glmrtsg ztzrm. Dszg'h fk drgs blf gslfts? Blf'iv evib jfrvg…"
(Did you ask if I was in trouble or something? My mouth is just bleeding a little, happens, heh. If the homeowner lets me, I'll have to clean it tonight again. What's up with you though? You're very quiet…)
He tilted his head as he spoke to you, his eyes giving you a once-over--respectfully…"R yvg blf szev z mrxv elrxv. Xlnv lm, zg ovzhg gvoo nv hlnvgsrmt! Ls fs, blf pmld, ru gsv dliow dzhm'g yfimrmt fk lfghrwv li zmbgsrmt…R dlfowmg ivzoob nrmw yvrmt rm gsrh xolhvg drgs blf. Slkv blf'iv mlg z erhrgli…gszg'w yv kivggbbb zdpdziw.."
(I bet you have a nice voice. Come on, at least tell me something! Oh uh, you know, if the world wasn't burning up outside or anything…I wouldnt really mind being in this closet with you. Hope you're not a visitor…that'd be prettyyy awkward..)
He muttered and ran his hand through his curls, his mouth was slightly curved in a sheepish smile. He was just rambling at his point, filling the silence with his voice. He didn't expect you to understand him or take him seriously after all…no one in this house seemed to understand him. He tries to not think too hard about it, about the lonliness. Maybe if he had gotten out of the country quicker...
The gears turned in your head, and you caught perhaps 15 words out of his sentences. Still, it was pretty clear. You, nice voice. Tell something. World not burning, dont care closet with you. Hope not visitor.
You cleared your throat and he turned to you again. "Mlg z erhrgli. Ru r dviv, dlfow szev vzgvm blf zoivzwb.."
(Not a visitor. If i were, would have eaten you already..)
You sheepishly smiled at your attempt to joke…it wouldn't hurt to lighten up the mood. His eyes widened and you immediately regretted it. Had you said the wrong thing?? Expecting him to scowl and cuss you out or something, your smile faltered. Instead, he leaned forward.
"Dsz-! D-blf xzm fmwvihgzmw nv? Blf pmld Tvlitrzm?! Szs, gsrh rh znzarmt!"
(Wha-! W-you can understand me? You know Georgian?! Hah, this is amazing!)
It was cute, the way he seemed to get excited and nearly vibrate in place. He scooted a bit closer to your spot, grinning now. "Wrw blf hzb vzg nv gslfts? Dsb? R ollp gzhgb?"
(Did you say eat me though? Why? I look tasty?)
You didn't understand a word this time besides pronouns, but you assumed he was joking by the way he was grinning. You awkwardly laughed…the polite thing you do when you don't hear someone correctly. He took this as you being nervous. Still, a win for him. "R'oo gzpv gszg zh z bvh. Yfg, gvoo nv, uirvmw…sld wl blf pmld Tvlitrzm? Blf szev zm zxxvmg, hl R gsrmp blf'iv mlg z mzgrev hkvzpvi. Ls tlw, rg'h hl mrxv szermt hlnvlmv fmwvihgzmw blf. Blf'iv znzarmt."
(I'll take that as a yes. But, tell me, friend…how do you know Georgian? You have an accent, so I think you're not a native speaker. Oh god, it's so nice having someone understand you. You're amazing.)
He said with a small laugh, setting his arms on his knees again. If you weren't a stranger, he probably would have hugged you by now. He'll leave that for another time. You were close enough that your shoe was brushing against his. You pursed your lips, thinking of hopefully the right thing to say.
"R…R gllp hlnv xozhhvh rm Fmrevihrgb. R pmld evib orggov."
(I…I took some classes in University. I know very little. )
He nodded. "Mm..R hvv. GOOD! Blf'iv kivggb tllw. R-zs-"
(I see. GOOD! You're pretty good. I-ah-)
He brought a finger to his lip, a drop of blood had run down into his mouth while he was speaking. He softly groaned, wincing at the metallic flavor. You hesitated, then reached out to catch his attention. "Svb, dsb wlm'g dv tl gl yzgsilln? R xzm..uhh..s-svok blf? Wash?"
(Hey, why don't we go to bathroom? I can..uhhh..h-help you? Wash?)
You gestured a finger at your own mouth, then at him. He blinked. Huh..maybe you were sweet. He arched a brow. "Rh gsrh zm vcxfhv uli blf gl glfxs nb uzxv? Xlnv lm, dv qfhg nvg.."
(Is this an excuse for you to touch my face? Come on, we just met..)
He said with a grin. You felt your cheeks warm with the little words you understood. Instead of responding, you placed your hand against the wall as you stood up. "Come on…before it gets infected..Tl.."
(Go..)
He stood as well, a stupid smile on his face. You lifted a hand to guide him out of the room, your palm hovering over the back of his shoulder. He did a double-take before grinning. He placed his hands together over his chest, as if flattered. "You- help me?" His words were heavily accented, but clear enough. You nodded, laughing at his exaggeration.
He was glad you had a good sense of humor, perhaps his time here wouldn't be so dull after all. Besides enjoying your company, he truly was glad that there was someone he could talk to. Your Georgian wasn't the best, but it was relieving to have you reply to him instead of having everyone cluelessly stare back at him.
Pale visitor pov, blood and injury, fluff, human/monster romance
ao3 link
taglist @suakemi @totally-not-niyah
The return journey to the house on the hill is a slow one.
Carrying two incapacitated humans isn’t difficult for the pale visitor, but trying to accommodate the pace of the wounded FEMA agent ambling behind him is. What should only be an hour trek at best has already taken nearly double that length.
The visitor halts for what feels like the hundredth time, his dark eyes flicking to the horizon glimpsed across a flat stretch of empty fields to confirm what he already knows: their surroundings have been become increasingly devoid of other living creatures, their enemies retreating, dispersing beneath the looming terror that another, superior one promises in the form of the impending arrival of the sun. The landscape is already better illuminated, the fallow ground they’re currently traversing touched with a soft gray light. A risk even still to be exposed like this, but the flatter terrain is easier for the injured human to walk across, and speed is essential. Every second counts.
“It’s nearly dawn,” he observes, frowning at the man’s strained expression.
“I know.” His ally grimaces. “Used to need…the alarm on my watch. Now my body…knows. Can feel my heart racing…right on schedule. How much farther is it?”
The intruder considers the remaining distance, his face lifting, nostrils flaring slightly as he searches for any scents that harbor a warning, but there are none. “Thirty minutes should bring us there, if we keep a steady pace. We must keep a steady pace after this,” he warns.
“Yeah, yeah. I understand…the underlying threat there. I can make it.” His companion shoves at the wet strands of hair plastered to his cheeks. His skin color now nearly rivals the visitor’s in terms of a ghastly white appearance, the bandage wrapped around his chest becoming saturated in blood. Two more causes for concern.
“I wouldn’t leave you behind. I’ll drag you if I have to.” The idea of watching this person he’s only known for a few hours perish suddenly feels unbearable. A true link to his past. An advocate for a cure for the virus. He’s simply too important.
The man’s breathing begins to return to normal, his speech clearer. “Nah. I’d slow you down too much. I know you want to get back to your girlfriend,” he teases with a wink, trying to make light of the situation.
The visitor’s voice softens with fondness. “Yes, I want to see her. Make sure she’s safe.”
“You said she’s armed, right? Locked up inside the house? She’ll be alright.”
“She’s never fired the gun,” he admits quietly. “I know there will come a time when that changes. I wish it wouldn’t have to.”
“Well, maybe we can do something about that so she never has to.” The hazmat suited man straightens, wincing as he readjusts the strap of the rifle on his shoulder. “Speaking of murder, I’d just about kill for some water right now,” he mutters.
”There is a water pump nearby,” the tall visitor remarks. “I’ve used it before. The supply was good. Uncontaminated. We can stop there briefly if we hurry.”
The news seems to reinvigorate the man from FEMA and they make good time to their new destination. The former salesman works the handle of the pump while the other man holds his hands cupped beneath the spout. He brings the water to his mouth repeatedly, finally declaring himself sated after drinking several handfuls. His gaze lingers on the dark blood still staining the visitor’s chin and chest and hands, leftover remnants from his battle with the mutated visitor. “You might want to get cleaned up before you see your girl.”
The pale visitor scowls, eager to complete the journey, but acquiesces and gently sets the unconscious pair of humans down, then uses the water to scrub at his hands and face, washing the worst of the grime away before he rinses his mouth out, then turns to the FEMA agent. “Better?”
“A little more here.” He touches the corner of his own mouth to demonstrate and the intruder continues to wash until he’s deemed presentable. “How’s the shoulder feeling?”
“It’s fine.” He’s more concerned about how he’s ruined the shirt you’ve just tailored for him than the bullet hole his new friend had unwittingly fired into him, in truth.
“So, a question that I’ll probably regret asking. Since you like dining on…ahem…certain cuisine now, does that mean my blood smells appetizing? Especially since it’s leaking out of me rather more than I’d care for?”
“I don’t need to feed right now,” he says tightly. “And I wouldn’t consume you in any case.”
“Yeah, you’re right, I’d probably be too gamey.” He grins at the startled expression on the onyx haired figure’s features.
”You have a very dark sense of humor.”
”These are dark times, friend.”
The pale visitor is quiet for a moment, then voices his thoughts. “I’ve tried eating regular food since I…changed. It tastes wrong. As if I can detect all the individual components. The artificial flavors are too strong. Tea is about the only thing I can tolerate. Then I’m forced to find other means of sustenance.”
“Tea, huh? Wonder why.” He rakes a hand through his drenched tresses. “Alright. That’s enough of a breather. Let’s get going.”
Relief floods the pale visitor when the house on the hill finally comes into sight a short while later. The porch light seems weaker now that it has competition creeping up on the horizon. He swiftly climbs the steps and kicks softly at the door to knock and announce their arrival, resisting the urge to look back and see the sun he knows is popping into view.
“Vysokiy!” You anxiously greet him, wrenching open the door. He can tell you’ve been crying recently, your lashes still dewy and your eyelids red and swollen. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he brushes your concern aside. “I’ve got the girl. The other one I’m carrying is a human as well. They’ve been sedated, but they’re unharmed.”
A flurry of emotions passes over your features. “And who’s this?” Your eyes narrow as you peer around him to view the injured man who’s slightly hunched over, clutching the railing and panting. He’d quickened the pace for the last few minutes out of necessity, forcing the man to expend whatever energy he had left in his depleted stores. “FEMA?” You hiss, shooting him another pointed glance.
“Yes. But he’s on our side. It’s…a long story,” he replies vaguely. “We have a lot to discuss.” He passes the girl to you and you cradle her in your arms, watching as the visitor assists the FEMA agent up the final step and into the house, then immediately closes and locks the door behind them. Close. That bright light in the distance was entirely too close for his liking. His hand trembles on the doorknob until he uses it to steady his remaining burden again.
“Let’s get these two settled and then we can see about other things. Have a seat here for now,” he instructs the other man who complies, dropping heavily into the chair beside the front door, unslinging his firearm and resting it against the coat rack nearby.
The visitor enters the kitchen and drags the chairs away from the table with his free hand. You crouch down and place your neighbor’s daughter onto her makeshift bed. She murmurs and stirs but doesn’t wake, curling up beneath the crocheted blanket you drape over her.
The intruder spares a moment to greet Koshka with a few scratches around the cat’s ears, the animal keenly watching the return of one of its favorite humans from its perch on the counter, then leaping down to join the young girl on the nest of blankets. He carries the middle aged woman back out into the hallway, looking a question at you as soon as you’ve shut the door. “Where should I…?”
“The office,” you decide, leading the way. He’s never been inside this room. It’s a little cramped, with just enough room for a small sofa, a narrow coffee table, a desk and chair, and a set of bookshelves. The sofa becomes a bed for the remaining human he’s rescued as he places the diminutive woman on it.
“Her glasses are tucked into the pocket of her cardigan so they won’t get lost. She’s going to be very confused when she wakes up. You’ll have to explain what’s happened. I wish I could have saved more people,” he says regretfully, softly shutting the door behind them.
“I don’t even know what’s happened.”
“You’re right. You don’t.” He sighs, suddenly finding the prospect of relaying all that has happened during his absence exhausting. He just wants to curl up beside you in bed.
“What happened to your shoulder?”
“Hmmm? Oh.” He realizes that now that he’s no longer burdened with the humans he’d been carrying, the view of the gunshot injury is unobstructed. “The FEMA agent shot me. By mistake,” he adds quickly, seeing your features darken. “It’s nothing, really,” he says dismissively. “It will heal quickly. To be honest, I’m more concerned with his injuries.”
“I don’t know him. You come first. And this is hardly nothing,” you say firmly, frowning as you study the wound, probing gently around the borders, shifting the ruined, bloodstained fabric. “You shouldn’t be putting yourself in harm’s way.”
“You didn’t know any of the other humans you’ve sheltered. You didn’t know me, either,” he gently reprimands. “And as far as the man from FEMA is concerned, he actually risked his life to help me. That’s how he got hurt. There’s a good reason I’ve invited him here, I promise you that.”
You exhale loudly, your posture stooping. He’s never seen you this weary before. His eyes linger over the purple smudges beginning to stain the skin beneath yours.
“I’m tired. I stayed up all night, waiting for you. The sun was rising. I was worried.” Your voice sounds small. Fragile.
“I know you need rest. I’m tired, too. But there’s a few more tasks to be done yet.” He covers your fingers with his. “I’m sorry for the condition of the shirt.”
You make a sound of disbelief, shaking your head. “Don’t be absurd. I can tailor other clothes. I can’t replace you,” you reply, your grip tightening. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I know you went out there because of me. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’m glad you’re home.”
“So am I.” His head lifts, tilting slightly as he listens to the now familiar sounds of the house: the hum of the furnace as it clicks on and the rush of warmed air blowing through the vents; the pops and ticks as the foundation awakens, heating beneath the autumn sun’s gaze. It feels like a greeting, a welcoming embrace, and once again he thinks about slipping beneath the covers and cradling you close. “I missed you,” he says, the words a little coarser, the underlying emotions chafing them. He seats a hand against your waist and you twine your wrists behind his neck, pulling his mouth to yours. You taste clean. Pure. More refreshing than the water he’d sampled at the pump outside. It’s so easy to let his body melt alongside yours, blending your forms together. My home. My girlfriend. Mine. His grip tightens, clutching you possessively. Your shoulder clips the edge of the window blinds as he pushes you back against the wall, his mouth latching onto your throat.
“Oh, I um…am I interrupting?”
The pale visitor reluctantly breaks the kiss, turning and scowling at the FEMA agent standing nearby. “I told you to wait by the door.”
“Yeah, I just…I kind of need to get this changed.” He gestures towards the bloodied makeshift bandages wrapped around his torso.
“What happened?” You frown, your hands uncoiling from the pale visitor’s body, your attention now drawn to the injured man’s chest.
“Visitor got me good with his claws. Oh, hang on, I’m a little lightheaded,” he murmurs, resting a hand against the wall.
“You need to sit down. Or lie down. Living room,” you announce firmly. “Vysokiy, can you help him? I need to go grab the first aid kit.”
You vanish down the hallway without waiting for a response and the pale visitor swiftly lends an arm to help the man walk into the room that he’d once slumbered in when he’d first arrived. The FEMA agent collapses heavily on the sofa, earning a creaking protest from the springs. He exhales loudly. “Your girl…she’s pretty. Crazy about you, too. You’d have to be blind not to notice. Lucky dog.”
“Don’t try to talk. Save your strength.”
“I have to talk. Have to tell her she might be the answer to all our prayers if she really is immune.”
“I want to be the one to tell her,” the visitor interjects quickly.
“Why? What difference does it make?”
“Because I’m the one that put her at risk in the first place.”
“Ah. Feeling guilty?”
“Yes. So let me tell her,” he repeats, his gaze stern as he regards the seated man.
“When are you springing the news?”
“As soon as she’s done patching you up.”
“Okay. We’ll do it your way.” He nods, leaning back against the cushions. “This couch is not that comfortable, if I’m being perfectly honest.”
“I know. I spent a couple of miserable nights trying to sleep on it.” He casts another anxious glance towards the open doorway, wondering what’s delaying you.
“Then you got upgraded to the bedroom, huh?” He smirks and the intruder glowers at him.
“Ok, I hope I have what I need,” you announce as you return, setting a pile of supplies down on the table beside the couch. “And I brought a change of clothes for when we’re finished. But first thing’s first. Let’s get this off of you and see what we’re dealing with.”
The man struggles out of the shredded remains of the upper portion of his protective gear and his shirt with some assistance. You slice through the makeshift bandages with your sewing shears, working quickly along the uninjured side of his chest to sever the series of knots. He groans when you finally peel away the bloodied fabric, your gasp loud when the cuts are revealed.
You shoot a hurried glance at the visitor. “Some of these are deep…”
“Do the best you can,” he says quietly.
“I’m not a doctor,” you protest, but you begin soaking a washcloth in warm water and start to cleanse around the scratches so you can better see what flesh is torn and what’s still intact.
“Don’t think that trek helped me any,” the man grunts, offering a rueful grin, then winces. “Your beau made us take the scenic route.”
“I was trying to keep us out of sight so things like this wouldn’t happen again,” the pale visitor growls as he gestures towards the gouges in the FEMA agent’s flesh, the worry in his tone slightly outweighing his frustration.
“I’ll do my best,” you say. “But I could use more washcloths. Maybe a couple of the towels that are folded on the dryer. And another bowl of hot water. And something to drink and some acetaminophen. It’s in the medicine cabinet. You feel like you have a fever,” you remark, your attention shifting from the visitor already in pursuit of the requested items back to the wounded man.
“So. You and him. That’s something, huh?”
“He told you not to talk,” you murmur, rinsing the cloth and scrubbing at another patch of gore covered skin.
“He’s not my boss.”
You smirk slightly. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”
“He doesn’t boss you though, does he?”
You shake your head. “He knows better.” You begin rummaging through the first aid kit, pulling out items that you think you’ll need. “What’s your name?”
The man barks a laugh that quickly turns into a raspy sound. “Ouch. That hurts. You know, your boyfriend never thought to ask. It’s Ilya. You call him Vysokiy? That’s appropriate.”
You nod, your cheeks flushing slightly. “Just until he remembers.”
“My cousin worked with him. It’s the damndest thing, but I just can’t recall what his name was.”
Your head lifts, your eyes widening with surprise. “Oh? Your cousin knew him?”
The visitor enters the room then, interrupting the conversation as he sets down the requested items anywhere he can find a ready surface.
“Your girl…she’s got spunk. I like her. Still not fond of you, though,” he grumbles.
“Idiot,” the intruder mutters, offering you an exasperated expression. “See what I had to put up with?”
“Bah. He enjoys my company.”
“Both of you hush. Take these,” you instruct, handing two tablets and a cup of water to Ilya. He swallows them down and you nod approvingly. “Good. Let’s get you lying down. I’m going to attempt to bandage these cuts. I have antibiotic ointment here. I hope that’s enough.” You kneel down to unlace his boots and pull them off, tossing them into the corner.
The wounded man sighs once he’s stretched out along the length of the couch, letting his eyes slide closed. The visitor silently observes as you continue cleaning the site. The pile of clean cloths and towels dwindles, the bowls of water now tepid and a sickly grayish-pink color.
“You got medical training?” Ilya’s eyes are still closed, one forearm draped over his brow.
“It’s a little late to be asking me that.”
Another chuckle and wince. One eye pops open to regard the visitor hovering nearby. “Funny and pretty. You really hit the lottery.”
“You really can’t shut up, can you?” The intruder folds his arms across his chest.
“I had a basic first aid class in high school. Now try to hold still.” You squeeze some of the ointment onto a piece of gauze and begin spreading it over the lacerations. “Some of these could probably use stitches, but I don’t dare attempt that with a regular sewing needle and thread.”
“The docs can do that back at the field hospital. This will do for now.”
You finish taping dressings over the wounds, then allow the intruder to help prop him upright so you can wind a gauze wrap around his chest.
“Okay. That’s the best I can do with what I have available.” You sit back on your heels, watching as the man gingerly settles back down.
“You did well,” the visitor reassures you, resting a hand on your shoulder and squeezing lightly.
“I agree. Thank you,” Ilya murmurs. “I think I’m gonna take a nap now, if that’s okay with you. Getting changed just sounds like it’ll take too much effort at the moment.”
“Yes, of course. You should rest.”
The intruder helps gather the used supplies and follows you out of the living room and into the bathroom, where you empty the bowls of filthy water down the drain in the bathtub and toss the soiled linens into the washing machine. He senses you’re upset, noting the brisk movements used to complete each action, your lips pressed in a thin line.
“What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? Vysokiy, he’s white as a sheet. He’s lost a lot of blood. And those scratches are definitely infected. Hell, he could be even be heading towards sepsis as we speak. He doesn’t belong here,” you conclude, slamming the lid of the appliance down with more force than necessary.
“I agree. He’ll need to get to a FEMA field hospital after he’s rested a bit. He’s in no condition to travel right now in any case.” He watches you scrub your hands at the sink, then lean against the rim of the basin. Your eyes meet his in the mirror. “It’s okay, doragaya. You did well. I think you might have missed your true calling.”
“Yeah, right,” you scoff, somewhat mollified. “You’re sure the girl’s not hurt? They didn’t do anything to her?”
“No. And the same for the woman.”
You turn to face him. “Who is she?”
“I don’t know. I picked her simply because I knew she was human and wouldn’t be difficult to carry. I know I don’t need to tell you how difficult it is to make those kinds of decisions. You have to do it every night. And still you take a chance and let people inside. You let me in,” he says. “And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you for that.” He cups your cheek and you lean against his hand.
“Did you tell Ilya that I was your girlfriend?”
”Ah, no, he came up with that on his own. Does it bother you?” He looks almost shy as he asks.
You shake your head quickly, smiling. “No. I like it.”
”Me too.”
You clutch his hand and turn your face to kiss his palm, then release it. “Okay. Have a seat. I have to do something about that shoulder.”
He complies, sitting on the closed toilet lid, then unbuttoning his shirt and peeling it off.
“I don’t even know how to remove this,” you grumble, studying the embedded bullet. “Tweezers? Tongs? Pliers? God, this is—”
Wordlessly the visitor digs at the edges, plucking the foreign object free from his flesh as easily as you might pull a weed from the yard, then tossing it into the wastebin.
You curse and immediately tear open another package of gauze, pressing it hurriedly to the wound.
“Vysokiy, you can’t just…”
“Why not? It needed to come out. It will heal quickly, I assure you.”
You cautiously lift the edge of the dressing to assess the wound. “It’s…not even bleeding,” you murmur, surprised.
“As I said, of no real concern.”
You clean and bandage the area, then lean back to survey your handiwork. “I think I’m finished. Just don’t move it around too much.”
“Thank you.” He reaches to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re amazing.”
You finish discarding the paper wrappers the dressings had been secured inside. “That’s the last of those. I don’t know what I’m supposed to use the next time your friend needs them changed. I’m not prepared for this.” Your gaze meets his. “Why is he here, Vysokiy?”
I loved your prophet guy hcs…they are so beautiful. Can I request some general headcanons for blinded man or amogus guy😢😢
IM SO SORRY YOU’VE WAITED SO LONG :( im back now tho! And THANK YOUUU ILYSM <3
I only wrote for blinded man because i actually HATE amogus guy with a fiery fucking passion, but i made them romantic because you didn’t really specify, IM SO SORRY IF YOU WANTED PLATONIC OR JUST STUFF ABOUT HIM-
Blinded man x reader General Headcanons
He’s the sweetest guy ever. Traumatised, and a little worrying, but sweet. (RDR2 REF PLEASE GET IT ITS SO NICHE)
He needs a lot of help, and truly appreciates it if you help him out, but he wants to do SOME things himself
One time you almost shit yourself when you walked away for five minutes and heard a loud crash. Turns out he tried to get up and look for you, but he didn’t know the layout of your house. He smacked into a wall.
You love him, and no disrespect, but it’s like dealing with a very calm, very traumatised toddler. But he tries, and that’s what counts
He has a lot of nightmares, everyone knows that. You’re the one who lulls him back to sleep each time. Or when he doesn’t wanna go back to sleep, you stay up with him and talk about anything.
Speaking of, he’s happy to speak about near ANYTHING with you. Visitors? Ok. Art? Of course! IT? I mean, if you wanna. Like seriously, near anything.
He’s not huge on touch, but likes to always hold your hand. It’s grounding for him, to know you’re still there. It’s clingy cuddles he isn’t fond of. The type where the other person doesn’t let go. But at the same time, he also isn’t fond of no touch. Don’t just sit there, he’ll get paranoid and think you left.
I think you and him would definitely paint together or draw or something. I think he still paints, so a date like that would be cute. He paints, and you either paint too, or draw. And afterwards you tell him what your art is, and he tells you his.
His art is still very good, even after having lost his vision.
He happily lets you talk his ear off about anything you like. You got a hyperfixation on something? Talk to him about it, he’ll happily sit there and listen. And he LISTENS. He thinks it’s rude if he wont even listen. Besides, it’s a good reminder that you’re still there.
I know I’ve said this a lot, but he seeks your presence a lot. It’s super grounding being around you. He doesn’t wanna seem like it, but he’s clingy in his own way, just without the tape-like hugs. He’s almost always in the same room as you, he follows you around by your hand, all that.
He doesn’t want you to leave him, but if you do ultimately make that choice, he accepts it. But he.. well i don’t wanna say it, but you know what he does in the game. Sam eating would happen if you died, as well.
I DON’T WANNA END IT ON THAT BUT I DONT KNOW WHAT ELSE TO WRITE-
Finally got around to working on NINAH requests. Also new format! I had so much fun working on these banners :3 if you recognize my artstyle shhhh
PROTAGONIST ˖᯽ ݁˖ dating headcanons
In general, he is a pretty distant man. Prone to self isolating despite feeling pretty fucking lonely. If you manage to break through his outer walls, it'll still take a while for him to fully open up.
It is most likely you'll be living with him during the catastrophe, he's going to be insanely protective. he has the habit of keeping you away from other guests for the most part…this could be a good and bad thing. If you're a talkative person, he's always hovering around you. The sight of his gun always in his hand might make you uneasy, even if you confess it to him, he'll assure you its for your safety.
Unfortunately he is still a paranoid man despite your relationship. He still does routine checks, much less compared to his other guests though. If you're all good and show no signs of being a visitor, these checks can turn out to be a nice experience for you both. Its a pleasant change in his usual routine. He'll take your hands gently in his, turning them over and rubbing his thumb over your fingers. He's not crazy affectionate but then again, he tends to hold back. If you show no visitor signs, he'll be relieved. He'll give your hands a gentle squeeze and give you a look only reserved for you.
He lowkey has a permanent frowning face i fear, but his eyes can be very expressive. He'll appreciate if you're observant and know when something is wrong, but it's also a little uneasy being paid attention to.
If he checks your eyes, you let his fingers hover over your cheek. Its one of the few softer touches he can manage. If both your teeth and eyes are alright, he'll lean down for a kiss. It usually ends quicker than you'd like, but its his form of sharing his relief.
He only uses a few pet names, but he has a way of softening his voice when he calls you by your name (or a nickname) He's a bit basic, but he's more likely to come up with some nicknames based off things you do or your name. Since in Russian there are ways to create a number of nicknames based off someone's name (depends I think) he would do that for sure!
When he's not worrying about the guests in his house or visitors, he likes to sit or lay with you. Cracks open a beer and loosens up for once, with you at his side. He's a lot gentler when he's had a few beers, makes him sleepy. But he's also honest, opens up a bit. And ermm, he likes when you read to him. I feel like he's not much of a reader in his free time but likes listening to your voice.
Hello…you're sleeping next to him at night..
He's usually big spoon because he just falls into that position naturally. He lies down, wraps his arms around you, hides his face in between your shoulders or in your neck…deep sigh. He's out like a light. He likes that or him nearly face down and an arm across you. Lightly snores, clingy when he wakes up.
it's genuinely so nice coming back to your blog from time to time, I always forget to write or get way too nervous about it but, thank you for being around !! :]
-(im)patient anon
HII OH MY GOD!! This is so nice and I remember you anon, pls don’t feel nervous about writing I always appreciate it :33 thank YOU for being around :p
