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potentialguybodyswaps · 9 months

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Cum Locked Into a Marine:

Are you in the military but feel like you joined the wrong branch? well there’s a way to swap branches, only catch, you have to swap bodies with someone in that branch and live their life, you can always swap back but only after both parties have finished their contract, so if you have 1 year left on yours, and you decided to swap with a fresh boot, you gotta finish the rest of their contract

Not many people wanna swap with a guy fresh out of boot camp but I did.

I’ve spent a year in the navy and didn’t like it one bit, when I joined I was hoping to join a brotherhood but the comrodery wasn’t there , when I was in A school, the base I was at for training was actually a joint base with the army, navy, Air Force and marines

Something that always upsetted me is when ever we’d see the marines, they were fine as fuck, for no reason, hands down the best looking fucking branch, no homo.

Even when I got to my ship and did a deployment with the marines onboard, they always looked hot and way fitter, if I would have join them instead of the navy, I’d definitely have abs but a lot of the navy struggles to stay within height and weight regulations

So I decided I wanted to swap with a marine, I made an account for the Body Exchange Program (or B.E.P. For short) and went to the subsection for military swaps and clicked on the marine branch to see what bodies were available

One thing I loved about the B.E.P. Is while the swaps are basically contracts and ment to last for the agreed time, they’re a couple ways to get out of that aswell… The B.E.P. Isn’t actually ment for long term swaps, so the only real way to do so is by breaking the TOS (terms of servicing). if both parties end up ejaculating while swaped, they end up locked in each others bodies

A lot of them had high standards in order to swap with them but I did find one Private named Matt Cummings. his profile says he’s only been out of boot camp for a week now and hates it, willing to swap with anyone from any branch as long as their not old.

I’ve only done 1 out of my 5 years so it didn’t bother me basically losing a year and having to restart a 5 year contract, especially if it ment I got to look hot as fuck and be a marine

Luckily I was only about 3 years older so I sent a request and after a little talking he agreed saying “I’d love to be in the navy and see more countries than just being deployed and stuck in 1”

Since we were in the same time zone this would actually be somewhat easy, we just set the time to swap to 3 A.M. when we’re both sleeping, and since we both actually had the next couple days off, it’d give us time to adapt and try to figure out our new lives

He asked me if I was sure I wanted to do this, promising it’s not like how I think it is. And I told him yes I’m sure…

Unfortunately he was one of the few profiles on here that didn’t have a profile pic so I was a bit worried about walking into this blind, but checking out the basic stats on his profile made me a bit more confident, 5’10 and 140. At the very minimum I might lose like 2 inches of height but atleast I lose about 40 pounds of weight also haha

I woke up the next day in a bed that didn’t belong to me and a dorm room that didn’t look familiar to me. Needing to piss I flung the blanket off me and saw that I was in nothing but my underwear, I rushed to the head (bathroom in military talk) and lowered them to piss and was kinda shocked, nothing too special about the dick, I mean about the same size as my actual body, but maybe a bit longer, ok, more than a little, I had to be atleast 3 and a half inches soft now, bro probably had like atleast 2 inches on me hard, I don’t know yet, so I’ll assume im about 6.5 or 7 inches hard maybe more now. What had me shocked tho was that I’m now uncircumcised! This is awesome man! I always wanted to be uncut. I just woke up and I’m glad this guy wanted to swap, definitely lucked out.

After I got done pissing and shooked my dick, I went to the sink to drink some water straight from the facet, after I got done drinking I stood up water dripping down my face onto my chest and onto my thin 6pack… if you could even call these abs, I’m not sure, maybe inbetween toned and abs status. Finally taking the chance to look in the mirror, I believe I lucked out, this guy seems to be one of the finer looking ones

While admiring my new self in the mirror I started to get hard and decided to check out the goods, pulling my underwear down my initial assessment seemed to be right, definitely bigger than my original body, so definitely atleast 7 inches. I decided to save playing with myself for later, hate to be a cliche and immediately go to touching myself after a swap, I’ll save it for later when I decide to act like a true marine and go get day drunk!

I tried finding some clean clothes but everything that wasn’t a uniform item was kinda just thrown onto the floor so I don’t know which piles are clean and which are not… I decided to take from the pile that smelled the lest like B.O. and get dressed

Once dressed I grabbed a backpack I saw laying around and left the onbase housing and found a store that happened to sell some IPA’s in there. I got a 6 pack and headed back to my room. on the way to the store and on the way back I was getting looks from everyone like I’m doing something I shouldn’t be, can’t be the alcohol can it? I mean no way, I tucked it into my bag. I mean, ya bro didn’t check the back of my CAT card to see my date of birth, so it’s technically underage drinking, but no one knows I have beer in my backpack nor does that explain the looks I was getting on the way to the store in the first place

I shrugged it off and just went back inside to my room. Once in I started drinking right away after I found some good shows to watch on this guys phone, I don’t know his password but the finger ID works, I’ll have to message him and ask him for the code later

It was taking me longer than usual to finish these due to not liking the taste anymore, and they were fucking me up more than usual making me a bit nauseous, I guess it makes since, this Matt guy has only been in for a week, probably didn’t have a taste for alcohol yet, not to mention different tastebuds in general, dam that sucks, this was one of my favorite brands too!

It took me almost 3 hours but I was finally on the last one, on a scale of like 1-10 I was probably a 6 on the drunk scale, trying not to throw up, which is ironic sense I use to black out and wake up never throwing up once throughout the night

When I get drunk I like to start cleaning or working out drunk, makes everything a bit more fun, I decided to do laundry, sense I can’t tell what’s clean and what’s not, I decided to just wash everything on the floor

Once I put everything in the washer I had a thought, technically I don’t know if the clothes I put on today were clean or not, and after spending some time in them today, technically they are dirty “fuck it” I said outloud and stripped completely naked tossing my clothes into the washer too before starting it

I went back and sat on the couch buck ass naked, it always felt weird walking around naked, so the fact that I’m doing it now in a slimmer body, balls swinging? Was kinda erotic, I started to get hard but the hornyness turned into fear when I herd a knock at the door

I remained still hoping they’d just go away, but then herd the sliding of the lock and the door open

“Aye Private FuckFace, I gotta talk to you. A sergeant and 2 corporals came in with him and closed the door behind them. For some reason I forgot that I was totally nude and thought it’d be a good idea to just start playin a movie again and pretend like I didn’t hear them

They walked around the corner into the living room to see me naked on the couch making them freeze and recalculate for a few seconds

I tried to not look up at them and continue watching my phone

“Well what do we have here” the sergeant said walking up to me

“Uh, uh, nothing much sergeant, just watchin a movie, you?”

“Me? What do I have? Let’s see, I’m given the task of coming to scald you for going out in public today and not shaving, what is this? Like my 3rd time telling you in the last week since you’ve been here that you have to shave EVERY DAY. And now I have YOU sitting on the couch, buck ass naked with beer cans on the table” he yelled knocking my partially full can over

“So that’s what we’re doing now? Underage drinking in base housing, not shaving. Sitting in the couch naked, legs open, not even trying to cover yourself, you know I told you if you kept fucking up I was gonna cum on your fucking face Private Cummings, I wasnt joking” he said unbuckling his belt

It didn’t register with me the first time, but it did the second, I’m so fucked up right now that I totally forgot that I was nude, fuck. Wait did he just say he was gonna fuck my face!?

I went to get up off the couch but he pushed me hard when I got half way up, sending me back on the couch.

“Now you know the rules to this, you can try to get out of this but I doubt you’ll be able too” he said nodding to the two corporals as he pulled his 5 inch hard dick out

I went to get up a second time but the corporals went behind the couch, each grabbing an arm and holding it back so I can’t go anywhere

“Suck” he said dick inches away from my mouth

“Fuck that” I screamed trying to spit on his dick as a sign of disrespect

Due to my slow reaction time the moment I tried to build up saliva and spit out on his dick, he just Jammed it in my mouth the second I opened it

I didn’t dare move, I’m not gonna fuck him up by hitting his dick but I’m not sucking it ether

I quit trying to fight to get up and just fell back into the couch more trying to get the dick to come back out my mouth

“Private FuckFace you are to suck my dick until I cum in your mouth, do you understand? That’s an order soldier” the sergeant said yelling at me

The moment he said “that’s an order” it’s like the combination of my boot camp instincts and this Cummings guy’s kicked in and I just quit resisting giving in and sucking his dick

Like a good soldier does, I gave it my all trying to do a good job and I suppose I did cause he yelled “I’m about to cum” I sped up a bit just so I can be done with this gay shit, the moment he started to blow his load in my mouth I quit sucking, but he wouldn’t pull out

I looked up to see my sergeant looking down on me, saying “you know the rules, now swallow, Private”

The moment I swallowed my sergeant nodded again and the corporals finally let go, they came back around the couch laughing

“Oh my god sergeant did he actually do it? Haha” one of them said laughing

“Yep, he swallowed it, which by Marine Social Code, means you, private fuck face, are officially my bitch now and have to do whatever I say whenever I say it” the sergeant said with a smile

“Bro what the fuck is wrong with y’all, fuck that I’m not nobodies bitch, you just mad a private has a bigger dick then you dude” I said standing up

“Private I told you, you know the rules, if anyone is able to take you by force and make you swallow their cum, your their bitch now, you could have gotten out of the hold we had you in, you just decided to say fuck your training, I feel like becoming a bitch all of a sudden right? Just accept it for what it is and do what I say like a good little bitch”

One of the corporals decided to tap the sergeant and ask him a question

“So uh, sense he’s your bitch now, do we get any sort of compensation for helping you? I mean he did put up a fight in the beginning and make us put some effort into holding him down, for someone that decided to become a bitch, he should have known he shouldn’t fight with his superiors” one of them said

The sergeant smiled and said “perhaps… Private go ahead and suck these two’s dicks aswell, take as much time as you’d like”

“No dude what the fuck is your problem I’m not doing that gay shit I’m a marine” I said angrily

“Private, you will suck these two men’s dick, that’s an order” the sergeant said

Once again it was like something in me was triggered and I proceeded to get down on my knees to make it easier for them to stick it in.

“ and you might be a marine but your a fresh marine, ment to be made into whatever the fuck we want you to be, if we want you to be the bottom bitch of the whole platoon, guess what your doing? Suckin dick just like we want you too” the sergeant said as I was giving one of the corporal the works

Both the corporals were bigger than the sergeant, so my only assuming is that the sergeant likes to get drunk with his power and assert it whenever he can, like now

After I got done blowing the first corporal, just like the sergeant did… he ordered me to swallow after cumming in my mouth. laughing, he pulled out and let the 2nd corporal take his turn

This time I didn’t need any instructions and just knew to swallow that way his dick come out my mouth faster, I hated every second of this, I thought the marine corps was the straight bad ass branch but I guess their even worse than the navy somehow

As I swallowed the 2nd corporal’s load I moved my eyes and glanced over at sergeant to see a pissed off expression

“What sergeant, I’m just doing what you told me to do” I said feeling the urge to please my superior officers

“I told you to suck their dicks, I didn’t necessarily say to let them cum in your mouth and swallow it, did i” he said rubbing his hands against the sides of the his temple

“Your point” i asked

“My point is now that you swallowed their cum, your all of our’s bitch now…. man you must really love this don’t you? It’s ok private, I knew from the beginning you must be a little gay from our first encounter, with that being said, we’ll round up the rest of the platoon and make sure you have plenty of cum to swallow and dicks to suck by the end of the week, I’m sure the rest of the guys will be ecstatic to find out they can get free blowjobs whenever they want and not have to go out into town to get it. Good work private” he said now smirking a little bit

“Ok I’ll leave the rest to you two” sergeant said and then walked out

Once the sergeant walked out the corporals both started dying laughing

“Hold up just stay right there private, ima make a call to the E-4 Mafia and get you some more dicks to suck tonight” one of them said pulling out their phone and started reading aloud the text he was sending to a group chat

“E-4 mafia, new platoon bitch is with me right now, drunk as fuck, giving out free blowjobs and swallowing, hit me up if you’d like to get in on this day one, goal is to get him to swallow every guy in the platoon by the end of the week” and send he said

Guys, come on now, this isn’t cool, y’all are gonna make me get a STD or something, you really want that? I said panicking

“Really only a problem for the ones after/if you get one private, but I think most would say it’d be a fair trade off in the hopes of having a platoon wide bitch, it’s gonna be a long 4 years for you dude haha” he said sitting down on the couch keeping an eye on me to make sure I don’t escape before his buddies show up

For some reason thinking about what just happened has me getting hard, the sergeant can go kill himself for all I care, but just like my new marine body, these corporals are starting to look kinda hot

The one that send out the group chat noticed I got hard and addressed me

“You find this hot Cummings” he said with a sly smile on his face

“I got something for you private, just go ahead and close your eyes and start stroking your dick dude, slowly”

I do so, and next thing I know I hear the corporal searching his bag behind me untill he found something, I herd a bag open and he asked me

“ do you like poppers private”

“I love them! What type of popper tho? Like jalapeño poppers?” I said starting to sound excited from the sound of food, drinking on a empty stomach wasn’t my brightest idea

As I’m still stroking my uncut cock I feel the corporal grab the back of my head and go

“ no these ones” he said as he forced my face into the bag inhaling chemicals

It suddenly felt like my dick was about to explode and so I let go immediately but it was too late

My dick started to twitch for a few seconds before I shot my load all over myself

“Noo!! What the fuck was that I yelled”

What I thought you said you liked poppers? I just figured I’d help you get off since you’ll be helping a lot of guys tonight he said with that same sly smile

My whole life has been turned upside down, I was hoping if I could make it pass the next few days the B.E.P. Would swap us back knowing I never cummed, not wanting the swap to be locked in

But now I’m stuck as this private Cummings guy for sure, since the corporal wanted to mess with me and make me cum myself, locking me in this body for years to come

#edit, I’ll try to make a patreon next week where y’all can see the pictures I really want to use for these stories 😏

#body swap #bodyswap #jock #male body swap #Military #Marine Corps Gay #permanent #temporary2permanent

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brewed-pangolin · 3 months

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What would soaps downtime be? Like who is soap when he's not in 141 mode?

A million apologies for this taking so long. I went on a super long rant about this but eventually turned that into its own post.

This is just Soap in his regular civilian life.

A bit of NSFW? Of course.

Soap outside of the 141 is both still the same man yet wholly different altogether.

He's a military man through and through, so he still appreciates a certain level of control and structure even when he sheds the Kevlar for a more comfortable civilian outfit.

It takes Soap a few days to pull his psyche out of the usual 'bump and grind' of being a soldier. He breaks this cycle by recharging in the simplest way possible. Sleep.

And when I say sleep, I mean sleep.

Dead to the world. Borderline comatose. (Brought on by massive amounts of Trazadone because, y'know, nightmares)

And after a few days of restful hibernation, he'll quickly pack up in preparation for his next necessity: escapism.

Soap finds himself, his true self, deep in the wilderness. Away from the world of responsibility and within the rejuvenation of fresh air and nature.

He'll spend a few days out in the wilds and come back with a fresh mind and a clear conscience. And that's when this man truly shines in his natural form.

Soap is a man with a very busy mind, so don't expect him to sit around while on leave. In fact, you should make a list of things he needs to fix. He'll love it.

Leaking faucet? Done. Need your oil changed? Already putting it on the floor jack. Hell, you wanna remodel the whole kitchen? He's already got a sledgehammer in hand ready for the first swing.

Point is, keep him busy. Send him on errands and keep him focused on anything else rather than you because oh my God your body needs to recover from the endless fucking he puts you through.

Soap is a man who aims to please and make up for lost time. This means the moment his mind is clear, it's laser focused on bending you over as many times as possible.

He actually doesn't care how you both do it. As long as he can bury himself in the sanctuary that is your wet pussy, he's happy.

Christian the entire house. Fuck in the 4Runner. Embrace your inner animals and let him mark his territory in the woods as he growls so loudly that you think there's a bear inside the tent.

Let him fill you. As many times as possible. He needs it before being pulled away into the line of fire once more. Needs it to remind him of the salvation he has to come home to. (In more ways than one).

You're one of the few outside the 141 that have seen him break. Head buried in your chest, arms wrapped like a vice around you as he sobs. Incoherent mumbles of the hell he's been through, and all you do is soothe him in this moment of pure emotion and vulnerability.

You remain strong for him. A beacon in a world of darkness and grazed bullets as he loses himself in your tender and affectionate embrace.

These moments are few and far between. Still, when they read their heads, you give him the time he requires to heal the mental scars to become whole again.

Of course, he enjoys times at the pub with his fellow soldiers. Throwing back a few pints, reminiscing over war stories and close calls within the familiar walls of their treasured tavern. It builds comradery. Strengthens the bond of the brotherhood outside the line of fire.

And gives them the mental break they need in the ease of civilian life before being thrusted back into the perpetual grinder that is being a soldier.

#asked and answered #anon asks #civilian soap #soap squad™️#call of duty #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #john mactavish #cod

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everlastlady · 6 months

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Werewolf Boyfriend: Jacob Frye HCS

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✰- Author's Note: Hello, my assassins and templers this is my first AC story and I choose Jacob Frye since he's my favorite assassin from my favorite game. And since it's Halloween I decided to make Jacob Frye a werewolf because if he was a monster then he would definitely be a werewolf, I'm writing this from my phone late at night so there is no word count and who knows when I'll post this Remember to eat a meal or a snack, drink some water, get some fresh air, take your medicine, and remember that you are loved. If you loved this story remember to comment, click or tap that heart button, reblog with tags, and blaze if you can. Always remember to support your local writers. ♡♡♡

✰- Story Contains: Werewolf Jacob Frye, Fluff, Kissing, Gender neutral reader, protective Jacob, Romance, smut, violence, kissing, and long post.

✰- Posted: 11//2//2023

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Jacob Frye and Evie Frye the Frye twins who are werewolves and are from the brotherhood of monsters who work in the dark to protect the light. Jacob met you through the brotherhood and you told him what kind of monster you were and he found that fascinating, he found everything about you fascinating. He would always follow you around when with his tail wagging around him, excited to hear about your day or the mission he gets to go on with you. He's quite protective of you on these missions. Biting and clawing through any templers or enemies that dare try to hurt you.

Evie has to scold Jacob to not get distracted by you on these missions to never let missions interfere with the missions. But she quickly drops what she is saying whenever Jacob brings up Henry Green. But she still wishes for Jacob to stay focused so that he doesn't get hurt, she loves and cares about her brother. So she hopes that you are watching out for him when he gets distracted which you do have Jacob's back.

Jacob loves to lay across your lap as you run your fingers through his head. He just loves your head and back scratches. They feel like heaven to him, sometimes he'll fall asleep on you and you are just stuck there with him laying on you. At least he's warm so you eventually fall asleep and Evie or Edward come across you both and just chuckle at this adorable sight of how you to look falling asleep together on the couch.

Jacob loves to do combat training with you. But will do his best to go easy on you. He won't go to fast or rough but he also won't go to slow or soft. You are both assassins after all so no need to treat each other like glass. But Jacob loves to pin you down that it's awkward when people walk in especially Evie and Arno who were going use the training room.

" That whole silver bullet thing is just a bunch of rubbish. " Jacob would say before biting and tearing into the necks of a blighters and a templer who decided to mess with. You sat there on top of some boxes watching your werewolf lover just devour and shred a bunch of blighters and the templer. Giving him a bath wouldn't be easy but you did enjoy watching this scene.

He likes to sniff you a lot which means you can't hide anything from him. Because he'll sniff it out even when you aren't in a room anymore, he'll know you are there so whenever you hide from him. He'll know where to find him. Once you wanted to take a nap without him because it was too hot to cuddle with him. So you went somewhere else to nap, you told Evie to tell Jacob that you were out doing errands. She tried to tell you something but you quickly walked away. And before you knew it when you woke up feeling hot and aweaty. There was Jacob asleep right next to you and not letting go. You eventually gave up and just bought a fan.

Jacob will go out of his way to make sex with you amazing especially when he's in heat. He wants to have your back pressed against his chest as he pounds into you. His hand gripping your neck as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. His thumb pressing against your tongue. Biting and licking your neck wanting to leave marks so people know who you belong to.

Never will let you go or let anyone hurt you.

#jacob frye #assassin creed #assassin creed syndicate #jacob frye x reader #werewolf jacob frye #werewolf #werewolf x reader #monster fucker #monster smut #ac #ac x reader

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celestial-specter · 2 months

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Clone Armor and Poster Symbolism in The Bad Batch Season Three

(Brace yourself, loooooong discussion under the cut).

So I’ve long been fixated on the symbolism of the clone’s appearance in Star Wars - it first began in The Clone Wars, with each clone discovering their own individuality and decorating both their bodies and their armor accordingly - think of the Republic crest which decorates both Jesse’s face and his helmet, and becomes a hard-hitting symbol of the end of the Republic which accompanies his death.

In The Bad Batch, clone armor has always been used to symbolize the character’s moral position- initially the main colors of the batch’s armor are black and red, showing both their power, and the element of mystery and otherness that they hold in comparison to standard clone groups. Crosshair’s turn to the empire is shown by him shedding his own armor, and donning a new, entirely black set, with no individuality at all.

In season two, the batch began removing certain sections of their armor and added pieces of a more civilian nature, such as Hunter’s scarf. The pieces of armor that remained were painted a lighter colour, showing that they were gradually leaving their lives as soldiers, or at least those of members of an elite squad, behind them.

In contrast, if you look at a character like Rex, he is still wearing the same armor from his service in the GAR, with only a few minor yet still currently unexplained modifications. He is the one holding onto the past and his service in the army, and it is his identity which drives him to save as many of his brothers as he can.

All of these ideas are particularly apparent in the new season three character posters which have just been released.

Now, while I have previously discussed the idea that the clone assassin is Tech, these posters have me equally convinced that it could actually be Cody.

I believe that Cody has the longest history of any clone in the franchise, being the only clone of any significance in the live-action films, and being prominent in both canon and legends material. As a standard clone, he would most likely have started his commission in the GAR with the general, all white trooper armor, and then decorated it himself as he gained individuality after leaving Kamino. In Brotherhood, the novel which takes place in 22BBY, Cody is described as wearing yellow armor, but, as we see in The Clone Wars, which takes place slightly later, his armor, along with that of the 212th, is more of an orange/gold. This small change could symbolize Cody’s own choice of armor paint being subtly darkened by his experience of war - he is still a loyal soldier of the GAR, but his experiences have changed him.

The orange armor quickly became synonymous with Cody, which is why it was such a shock to audiences to see him with grey armor in The Bad Batch season two. It is a sign that his individuality has been stripped away from him by the empire, but Cody himself still retains the capacity for individual thought and decision making, as shown by his actions in the episode. I also believe that clone armor colors not only symbolize the clones themselves, but also their Jedi generals - the 212th orange symbolized the positivity and energy which came alongside serving under General Kenobi, just as the 501st blue symbolized the freedom and fresh viewpoints of General Skywalker. Therefore, Cody’s grey armor also symbolizes his grief for what he did to Obi-Wan - the man who first provided him the space to discover his own individuality is now ‘dead’ at Cody’s own hand.

I have also long believed that there is a high chance that Cody did not end up escaping at the end of this episode, and was instead captured by the empire for use in experiments.

The release of these character posters seems very deliberate - Star Wars has always been about the battle between light and dark, but due to it’s association with the force, I don’t think we have ever seen clones portrayed in posters in such a manner. The cinematography staff of The Bad Batch have been very vocal recently on the importance of lighting in the show, and I believe that the posters are no exception.

If we look at these poster in order, it is interesting that Wolffe’s seems to be darker than the one featuring Hemlock and Emerie, especially considering how stable he appeared in the past episode.

I believe that this symbolizes that there will be consequences for Wolffe for his decision to let Rex and the others escape, and that he will be subjected to the same treatment which was used in an attempt to change Crosshair, which will leave him the unstable individual we first meet in Rebels.

This idea of placing the clones on a scale from light to dark has me concerned that this season will show the end of Cody’s arc, shifting from the bright white armor he first began with, ending with him wearing the dark armor of a clone assassin.

This idea is only furthered by Rex’s group referring to the clone assassins as ‘shadows’. The reason behind the name is obvious- the clones are shadows of their former selves, having been stripped of all identifying information and individuality.

Considering that Cody’s bright orange armor has long been thought to represent the sun, it would be devastating to see him reduced to an operative with no name and no personality, his only identifying feature being dark armor he would never choose to wear himself. Though I hate to think of it, it does make sense to portray Cody in this way to truly highlight the rise of the empire in the same way Jesse symbolized the end of the Republic - if this theory does turn out to be true, Cody’s arc may have always been intended to show his progression from sunburst to shadow.

#the bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #star wars #tbb crosshair #the bad batch spoilers #star wars spoilers #star wars tbb #star wars the bad batch #sw tbb #sw:tbb #commander cody #clone assassin #captain rex #the bad batch theory #the bad batch season three spoilers #star wars analysis #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #the bad batch theories

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geeks-universe · 10 days

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The Fallen pt. 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Cooper Howard x F!Angel!Reader

A/N: The rating is going to go up after this chapter. This one doesn’t include any smut, but the next chapter definitely will.

The journey to finding the head was relatively uneventful.

Or, as uneventful as traveling through the Wasteland could be.

The group picked up a dog on the way, though somehow you were the only one surprised, and delighted. Among all of your father’s vast creations, they happened to be your favorite.

The feeling was apparently mutual, considering the dog had taken to sleeping on your chest every night and following close by during the day. You’d lovingly named her “Maze” after your favorite, albeit grumpy, demon.

It fit, if you were being honest, even though you knew the aforementioned demon would skin you alive if she ever found out. (Even if she’d secretly find it endearing.)

It was a nice distraction from Cooper too. When you’d first met him a few years ago, you’d been reminded of something so very human in his hesitation. It was buried deep, heavily denied, but there. Every meeting since then you’d been determined to find it, to find the man in the monster.

“Have you slept?”

Maximus had been a nice addition. At first, you’d been hesitant to trust him. Many, many factions had risen since the fall of humanity, and almost every single one of them became twisted, corrupted versions of what they were meant to be. The Brotherhood of Steel was certainly no exception, but Maximus was.

Maybe you’d been too quick to judge others before too.

“Was just thinking,” you murmured, absently petting Maze when she nuzzled further into your lap.

“About anything in particular?”

It was a kind question, and while you could see the darkness in him, the kind that came with growing in a world hell bent on destruction, there was a good heart in his chest. You only hoped he didn’t lose it.

“Nah,” you shrugged the question off, letting your mind wander through the twists and turns of your memory.

He studied you for a moment, before gesturing towards the other two sleeping bodies.

“Get some sleep, I’ll keep an eye out.”

Initially, you were going to object. You didn’t want to rest, didn’t have any desire to revisit the pain of the past that you were forced to witness in your dreams, but there was an exhaustion deep in your soul. Rest wouldn’t fix it, but it would help.

You muttered a thanks, not missing the way his eyes lingered on Lucy’s unconscious form. There was certainly something happening there, and the thought of a blossoming romance in a decaying world warmed your heart.

Sleep, like always, slipped through your fingers like sand. Even with the warm presence of Maze and the friends around you, it didn’t come easy. It hadn’t in a long time, and you doubted it ever would again.

Eventually, however, the lures of slumber found you, and instead of falling into a peaceful embrace, you woke to lungs full of ash.

You tried to call out, to yell to your friends, but the burning in your chest crawled up your throat, forcing you to your knees.

Before you, the world burned.

Not the Wasteland you’d been traversing, the endless desert and bloody terrain, but the world as it was before. Skyscrapers reached for the clouds, cars were like so many dots in the city, and there was so much life. Birds singing in the sky, the breeze swaying leaves, a smell so fresh it brought tears to your eyes.

Then the flames licked it, consumed it, swallowed it whole.

And you were left there to watch, your knees planted to the ground.

“Dad.”

A desperate, wretched sob. A wish. A cry torn from your throat, wrenched free by your heart.

“Dad, please.”

You were screaming now, begging, heart pounding with anguish.

“Don’t do this. Don’t let this happen.”

Each word shredded your soul, hopelessness bitter on your tongue. The brightness of your heart, the very essence of your being, dimmed to an ember. Your fists pounded against the Earth, the horizon disappearing in a cloud of smoke and ash.

A scream of rage, of agony, of desolation erupted from you, like the bombs that fell to the Earth around you.

Horror sliced through your back like a knife- blinding, hot pain coated your tongue like blood. You reached back, clawing at the pain despairingly, ignoring the splashes of blood as you tried to just make it stop.

But it wouldn’t.

Your nails provided no relief, the desperate slashing growing fiercer with the tears in your eyes, grasping with the last of your strength at the pieces of yourself.

It didn’t matter.

Made no difference, really.

The bond was severed.

Minutes turned to hours turned to days before you had the courage to move, to assess the damage. The fires still raged around you, days after the initial blasts, and the hollowness in your gut deepened.

Your hands shook as you reached out, first hesitantly, then madly, at the remnants of your once beautiful wings.

Golden Child.

Hope.

Growth.

Life.

Your father had called you all so lovingly, murmured into the ear of a child desperate for her father’s pride. It was all a lie, one that poisoned the air in your lungs.

Bloodied feathers and snapped bones lay behind you, the golden dulled with the death of an entire population. A crack formed in you then, one that would never heal.

“I hate you.”

A gloved hand pulled you from the clutches of unconsciousness, dragging you back to your prison.

The way you moved was instinctual- swiping your leg out and pressing Maze’s knife into the neck of your would-be attacker. It was fast, precise, a move taught over and over again by the demon until you’d been able to do it in your sleep.

Only, by the time the tears in your eyes cleared, you realized it was very much not an attacker.

It was Cooper.

And he looked far too smug for a man you’d just put on his ass.

“It ain’t good form, sneakin’ up on a restin’ man.”

Your words were an exact echo of the first time you’d ever heard his voice.

“It most certainly ain’t.”

There was an almost playful twinkle in his gaze as he pressed a little deeper into your knife. Your hand shook then, a reminder of what you were.

More importantly, a reminder of what you could never be.

Before he noticed that particular quirk, you sheathed the dagger, but didn’t move from your perch above him. He didn’t seem too keen on moving you off him either.

“You were squirmin’ in your sleep, sweetheart.” He explained, resting his top half on his forearms. That man surely did look too comfortable with you on top of him. “Makin’ a lot of noise.”

“Just… memories.”

You puffed a breath, nearly leaning your forehead against his. It was easy, natural, the way your body sought his out, like a moment of rest after a hard day.

Instead, your gaze zeroed in on an unassuming glint, a sparkle in a sea of sand. It was more than just glitter though, and upon the realization of exactly what it was, your heart dropped.

There, sitting inconspicuously in the sand, was a small, golden feather.

Your feather.

Cooper followed your stare, looking curiously at the object that was causing such a reaction. He didn’t understand though, couldn’t possibly.

Your feathers hadn’t shined like that since the day the bombs dropped. The few that remained were dull, bloodied and broken like the rest of your wings.

“Are we interrupting?”

Lucy approached, Maximus directly behind her with a curious look. Why in all the world were you on top of the ghoul?

While Max was shocked, Lucy wasn’t bothered. She was more astonished that she’d yet to walk back to the two of you fucking the absolute hell out of each other.

“Yes.”

“No.”

You and Cooper spoke at the same time, your movements quick as you disengaged. You didn’t see him grab the feather you seemed so mesmerized with and tuck it into his chest pocket, but after giving the two others a smile, you definitely did notice it missing.

“Okey-dokey,” Lucy drawled, another suspicious glance casted between you both.

“Are you okay?” It was Maximus who asked, and from the tenseness of his body, you guessed he’d probably heard more of your nightmare than anyone else.

“I’m okay,” you lied, standing closer to Cooper absentmindedly.

Maze trotted up to you, pressing her wet nose into your hand like she understood your pain. Maybe she did, in a way. Not the exact pain you felt, but the loss of something so fundamental to your person.

Animals had an easier time realizing what you were. Besides Chloe and Linda, you’d never actually told another human being. A few had found out through one way or another, but it was hard to trust that part of yourself with others.

“We’re close,” Lucy announced, gesturing towards the wide open desert.

Less than half a day, you’d all agreed on yesterday before you stopped for the night. Then, as soon as you retrieved what remained of Dr. Wilzig, off to Lucy’s dad and the mysterious Moldaver.

“Thaddeus had the head last,” Maximus explained, stepping up with Lucy as she led the way.

You hung back with Cooper, glancing over at him every few minutes.

The two at the front continued to talk, explaining something or another, but you were too focused on Coop. He’d been there when the world went to shit.

You’d known it for a while, that he was old enough to have witnessed the end. He hadn’t said it explicitly, but the pieces clicked together when he properly introduced himself. Lucifer had a week-long bender involving a piñata of drugs, a couple of Swedish models, and a whole lot of old cowboy films.

You’d passed on the drugs and sex, but he’d trapped you in his penthouse and forced you to marathon the greatest hits of one Mr. Cooper Howard.

Time hadn’t been kind to him.

That man had been good, altruistic. He, like so many others, had lost so much of themselves to the world.

“Any particular reason you’re starin’ at me like I’m the last piece of pie?”

You hummed a small laugh, more thoughtful than entertained.

“The world before…”

He held a hand up, stopping you before you could even start down that line of questioning.

“Whatever you think you know of the world before, you don’t.”

“I think you made a better cowboy hero than a cowboy villain,” you joked, a genuine chuckle sounding as he nearly tripped over his feet, shock on his face.

“And what’s that supposed to mean, darlin’?”

“Whatever you want it to, cowboy.”

The mischief in your eyes was rivaled only by the guilt. You’d never be able to let go of it, to not have it haunt you every moment of every day, but perhaps you could live with it.

Perhaps there was a future for you.

Not the kind of future Lucy wanted, with romance and children, but the kind of future you did- freedom and a person to share it with.

“Got jokes, do you?”

His smile was wry, not quite amused, but certainly interested.

“Just for you.”

He cut you a hard stare, one that saw far more than you wanted him to, and yet not enough. The relationship you’d built up was founded upon a mutual understanding of letting the past die, and yet you found yourself wanting to tell him everything.

Gazes locked together, longing mingling in the air, interrupted only by the sound of a growing melody. You snapped your head forward, surprised by the sudden appearance of an entire radio tower.

Perhaps Cooper had distracted you more than you cared to admit.

“Thaddeus,” Maximus called, drawing attention to your group.

Maze held back, sticking close by your side as you approached the tower. As unsuspecting as it looked at a distance, it grew more ominous up close. Bodies and debris littered the ground, blood speckled in the warm sand.

You frowned.

Death, in this world, was nearly constant. You’d never seen the uglier side of it before coming to Earth. Even knowing the eternal resting place for these souls didn’t make it any easier to see them strung up and displayed this way.

The brutality of man hurt almost as much as the abandonment of your own family.

“Maximus?” The man, Thaddeus, you assumed, approached with a look of surprise. “I thought you’d be dead by now.”

“Just give us the head,” Max bargained.

The mention of an ‘us’ seemed to garner a response. The squire finally looked at the group, a cursory glance to each of you.

When he saw you, a smile tugged at his lips. He blinked once, then twice.

“Hi,” he greeted, solely focused on you.

You sucked a breath in, not missing the clench of Cooper’s jaw.

“Hey,” you replied kindly, taking a step towards him. “Thaddeus, was it?”

“Oh fuck,” he rubbed his empty hand against his pants nervously. “I ain’t ever seen someone as pretty as you.”

You breathed out a laugh, holding both hands out in front of you as you approached.

“Flirting is definitely not a part of the Brotherhood’s curriculum, huh?” Lucy mused.

“We really need that head,” you told him cautiously, slowly, ignoring the vault dwellers' merriment.

His eyes were wide, following your every move with something a little too close to reverence for your liking. The divinity that ran through your veins certainly made you more appealing, but the look he was giving you was a bit deeper than that.

A bit hungrier.

“It’s too late,” he responded, and as if on queue, the distant sound of spinning blades cut through the air.

“It’s not,” you argued, another step as you very carefully maneuvered around a trap. “Bring it here and we can leave together, before they land. But we have to go. Now.”

For a brief second, you didn’t think he’d follow. His eyes flicked up to the sky, where the Brotherhood would be any minute, and then back down to you.

Then, he took a step.

A cry rang out in alarm, torn from your throat as you jumped forward, trying to push him out of the path of a well-placed arrow. It didn’t matter, though. You were too late, pinning his body to the ground after he’d already been wounded.

Guilt gnawed at your stomach as you gazed down at him, wide eyes staring right back up at you. He’d been struck in the neck, a fatal wound by all accounts.

“Are we having sex?”

You tilted your head to the side, confusion bubbling around you. He definitely wasn’t dying, if the appendage pressing insistently into your thigh was any indication.

“You’re not dead?”

It was a question, one echoed by Maximus somewhere behind you.

“He’s gonna be,” Cooper growled, his voice hardly registering in your confusion.

“Just, sit still.” You ordered, reaching a hand towards his neck.

The arrow went clean through one side, remaining embedded into the throat. How he was alive was a mystery for another day, your current concern revolving around removing his new necklace.

You grabbed one end of it, tingles splintering up your arm, that ancient warning rearing it’s ugly head.

Do not kill.

Do not harm.

You grit your teeth, tugging as his hands came to rest on your hips. You’d wanted to comment on it, to tell him to take his hands off you, but Cooper beat you to it.

“Keep those hands there and you’re losin’ them.”

It was a vicious threat, spoken from his chest with anger, the hammer of his gun clicking for emphasis.

A pounding started in your head, a chant repeating itself.

Do not kill.

Do not harm.

You wanted to shout in frustration, the tremors working their way through your entire body. They came to a crashing halt the second the arrow was through, the wound healing on its own only seconds later.

You slumped forward, catching yourself with your hands on either side of Thaddeus. The man beneath you noticed, the sound of a bullet echoing through the air when he reached a hand up, almost grazing the side of your face.

“Watch those hands.”

It was a final warning, the patience of the ghoul gone.

“Your eyes are beautiful.”

His voice was dazed, staring at you with awe. It made you fidget uncomfortably before you rolled off him, leaving the space Cooper needed to stand above him.

Rage burned in his eyes as he pointed his pistol at the young man.

“Coop,” you warned, stepping in front of him.

Your warning meant very little to him at the moment. Murder was in his eyes, the kind that promised to see it through to the end.

The sky grew louder, the Brotherhood closing in on your position faster than you’d like.

“We don’t have the time for this.”

Reason seemed to win out for the moment, the need to survive beating back the need to prove a point. He holstered his gun, a withering glare pointed at Thaddeus.

You paid it no mind, jumping into action before any more ground was lost. You tossed the head to Lucy, shuddering at the lifeless object. It was gory, unnecessarily so, and holding it felt unnatural.

“Get out of here,” you yelled to the others, finding your footing relatively quickly.

Cooper was close by, following your every footstep. Thaddeus, however, decided to take his own route. It was probably for the best, lest Cooper ever see him ogling you again. Maze, initially unsure of where to go, obeyed your queue, running alongside Coop.

You’d only made it a hundred feet or so before you realized Lucy and Max were not with you. Your abrupt stop was interrupted, the ghoul tugging the back of your jumpsuit before you could even try to turn around.

You caught a quick glimpse. A passionate kiss was exchanged, and a sorrowful goodbye. The moment wasn’t for you to witness.

Before long, Lucy caught up to your little group again.

She didn’t bother to greet you, her hand gripping the head for dear life. It was the only thing she’d managed to salvage from the radio tower.

It was clear Max’s departure bothered her deeply, but you knew some wounds couldn’t heal with anything but time.

Maybe one day they would find one another again.

Until then, you’d look out for her, make sure she was able to grow on her own terms.

God only knew she’d need it in the upcoming future.

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard insert #fallout x reader #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout reader insert #the ghoul imagine #cooper howard imagine #i love this #fallout

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argisthebulwark · 1 year

Text

Time Moves Slow - Cicero

sfw, gn reader, depiction of delusions/recurring nightmares Summary: After returning from Sovngarde the Dragonborn finds that a handful of hours for them has been years for those in Tamriel and reunites with their loved one. Others Linked: Vilkas, Brynjolf, Farkas, Teldryn, Miraak

Trudging through the endless sea of snow, you thought only of what awaited you at home. Northern winds whipped loose hair around your face and fat flakes of snow left speckles on your stained armor. You reminded yourself that the hardest part was over - Alduin and Sovngarde would be forgotten once you got into a steaming bath. All you had to do was make it back to the Sanctuary.

Luckily you were able to avoid trekking through Dawnstar. The Dragonborn showing up in shredded Dark Brotherhood armor would raise more questions than you could answer. The sea crashed at your side when you stomped along the frigid beach, sending a fresh blast of cold air through the rips in your armor. Ducking out of the storm you collapsed into the silence of home.

Sparse echoes revealed very few were in the Sanctuary - new recruits were on trial contracts and your fellow assassins were hard at work. Banners lining the Sanctuary's blank stone walls seemed worn, some patched in places you'd never noticed. You'd have to ask one of the others. Nazir would likely tease you for paying so little attention to your surroundings.

Hauling your broken body down the hallway the hairs on the back of your neck rose - something felt off. The voices floating through the stone halls were unfamiliar. The candles flickering on a nearby table smelled floral despite Cicero's preference for unscented. Strange cloaks were piled near the staircase.

Panic chilled your blood. Memories of the Penitus Oculatus came flooding back. Without thinking your blade was in your hand, heart racing as you stalked deeper into your home. Ears strained for any sign of battle you slid toward the central hub of the Sanctuary.

No one in the kitchens. No sign of danger in the main hall. A few calm murmurs behind closed doors were all you found when you slunk down the final corridor, the one home to each assassin's private chambers. That deep sense of dread was unshakable, gut sinking when you noted the unfamiliar names scrawled over previously empty rooms.

Thank the gods your chambers appeared untouched. Without alerting the rest of the Brotherhood you tiptoed into your bedroom, releasing a shaky breath after clicking the lock in place. Perhaps you'd simply forgotten the names of a few recruits. Nazir must've approved them in your absence. Nothing was wrong. You just needed a bath and a long nap.

"Listener?"

Mere steps from the bath you halted. Cicero's voice stopped you dead in your tracks. You hardly heard his movements when he sat up from your bed - you should've known. His own chambers hadn't been touched since the first night together, of course he'd wait in your bed. Separation wasn't his strong suit.

"Hello my love." Despite your attempt to quell the nervousness your voice sounded shrill. You didn't want to turn to him, didn't want him spotting the anxiety in your expression. It would only worry him further.

“Silly Listener, you’re teasing Cicero again.” His laugh was high pitched and dreamy, sending shivers down your spine. What had he meant by that? Again? “Stop being mean to your loyal Keeper.”

“What do you mean?”

“You always do this!” Any hint of his laughter was gone. Your blood chilled when the bed creaked, your only sign that he'd gotten to his feet. “You show up just to taunt and silly Cicero falls for it every time. Go on, say it and disappear! Leave poor Cicero alone!”

“Say what, Cicero?” Something was clearly off. Your heart ached for your poor, lonely Keeper. Turning toward the bed you tried to find him in the oppressive darkness, barely able to make out your beloved's frame through all the shadows.

It was all wrong. Cicero's wavy hair was cropped short, his familiar smile reduced to a mean smirk. The gash on his face you'd dabbed clean that morning was nothing but a nasty scar. His eyes pinned you in place when he stepped into the faint halo of candlelight. Your gut had been right - something had gone terribly wrong while you were in Sovngarde.

“What is a Keeper without a Listener?” His nose wrinkled, tone a taunting mockery of yours. It hurt to see his brows furrow, so clearly confused. "What is Cicero without his Listener?"

“What, my Cicero?” His shoulders sagged, all the rage disappearing as he sunk to your bed. Cicero’s watery eyes stared at your boots and you dared another step closer. The urge to touch him was overwhelming, to prove that you were really with him.

“Nothing.” His broken little whisper wrecked you. Swooping down before Cicero you heard him muttering, tears streaking down his cheeks. “The fool is nothing. Nothing.”

"You are my whole heart." Your voice wobbled with the immense weight of emotions threatening to reduce you to tears. You couldn't comprehend what he'd been through - visited by horrible visions in your absence. "How long has it been since we last met, my Keeper?"

"Years." His voice was flat, eyes tracking each of your movements. You couldn't push him. "Cicero let the real Listener go years and years ago."

"And what of the fake Listeners?"

"The real Listener would never talk to loyal Cicero like that."

"That's right." Stubborn arms wrapped around his middle, protecting himself from you. Cicero sniffled, staring down at the hands you kept in your lap. "Who do you think I am, my dear Cicero?"

Finally, he met your gaze. The unfathomable pain you found in his eyes knocked the breath from your lungs. Your absence had clearly wrecked him.

"My Listener?" The tiniest hint of hope resided in his words. You wanted to hug him, to tackle him onto your bed but you couldn't spook him. Tucking the messy hair away from your face you leaned closer, banishing any fear from your mind. No matter what had changed he was always your Keeper, your Cicero.

Tentative fingers brushed over your cheek. Cicero's hands shook when they cupped your face, wide eyes reflecting the lone candle. You took in every bit of him you could - the scars, the hair, he'd changed. You'd been gone years.

"My Listener." It was no longer a question. Needy hands dragged you closer, laughs blooming against your skin where Cicero smothered you in kisses. He murmured your title over and over as he came to terms with the fact that it was truly you, not some nightmare.

Nimble fingers made quick work ridding you of the ruined armor before his limbs enveloped you. Cicero's warmth and the soft mattress were wonderful under your aching bones. Humming happily Cicero draped a blanket over you, gentle touches roaming over your body as he confirmed your presence.

"I'm sorry for leaving, my love." You spoke into his skin, pressed firmly against him. "I'll never leave you again."

"My funny Listener." Cicero sighed, finally content. His hands stroked through your tangled hair and you heard a displeased grumble. "You made a lot of work for your Keeper. Laundry, mending, bathing."

"I'm sorry, my beloved." You mumbled, on the verge of sleep. You wanted to apologize for that and so much more.

"Loyal Cicero forgives you, Listener."

#cicero #skyrim #writing #cicero x reader #cicero x listener #cicero x ldb

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sunshine-and-moonshine · 6 months

Text

141 In Skyrim

Requested: No

Warnings: Mentions of an attack on Ghost’s part but nothing else I can think of

A/N: @arthurmorgansballsack you wanted to be tagged, so here is your tag!!!!

Price - Harbinger of Jorrvaskr

As a Harbinger, Price is often meeting new people. Young and Old alike, all who think they have a shot at being famous. At bringing glory to themselves. But time and time again he turns people away, their hunger for power outrivaling all of their good qualities. None of them ever understood what it meant, to be a companion. To be more than yourself, to dream for more than just yourself. To dream and hope, to live and die, for everyone in Jorrvaskr. None of them understood it, except for you. You who came in, heart and eyes blazing, looking for family over glory. And it turned out to be only you who he could confide in about being wary of the wolf’s blood that ran through his veins. How he grew tired of the hunt and longed for rest and companionship. And it was you who made his heart skip a beat when you placed your hand on his and told him that he could always feel free to seek out your company when he grew weary and lonely.

Gaz - Dragonborn

Gaz met you just outside of Whiterun. Out of breath and looking exhausted, holding a letter from some Jarl or other. He’d pushed away all the other couriers but…you were just so determined to get him his letter, refusing to leave him until he accepted it. It endeared him to you and he found himself telling you that he’d only take it if you’d have dinner with him at The Bannered Mare. You seemed surprised by the offer but tentatively agreed. Only to somehow end black out drunk and wake up passed out in his house in Riften. An Amulet of Mara laid between both of your naked bodies, a plain gold band on your finger and a matching silver one on his. And he didn’t want to let you go. You were the first person in forever who actually seemed to want to listen to him. Who tried to comfort him when he told you about the troubles of being Dragonborn. And beyond that, of how he didn’t remember anything before being Dragonborn. How he’d woken up in that cart, his mind empty of memories, and the trauma that came from that day in Helgen. With you, he wasn’t just the Dragonborn. He was human. He was….himself.

Ghost - Dark Brotherhood Assassin

Probably the only member of the Brotherhood who didn’t actually consider it a family, Ghost didn’t care to introduce himself to the fresh meat, you. He figured you’d be dead soon anyways. But something about you drew him in. He tried to make excuses for it, convincing himself he was only interested in the planes of your body that were highlighted by the uniform, that he was only lusting for you. But that didn’t explain why he hovered around you, sticking to your shadows and watching your back. Why he felt his heart skip a beat when a target fought against you, pinning you on your back with a knife to your throat. And it didn’t explain the wave of rage that turned his vision red, that drove him to lunge at your target and beat them into the ground. It wasn’t til he looked into your eyes, his fingers under your cowl checking to make sure you didn’t get cut, that he admitted it wasn’t just lust.

Soap - Thieves Guild Member

Soap had been a Thieves Guild Member for a long time. Starting as an orphan in Riften’s streets who got particularly good at pickpocketing. Or at least he thought he was, until he tried to pick your pockets in his late teens. You were older than him, an amulet of some kind around your neck. It looked expensive and he had wanted to take it but he knew it was too dangerous. So he’d settled for the coin sack hanging at your waist. Careful, so sneaky, his fingers ready to loosen the leather string holding up the bag when you spoke. “Not bad, but still sloppy.” You’d said, turning back to look at him. He’d wanted to run but found himself entranced by the mischievous look in your eyes. You offered him a place to stay, warm food in his starving belly, and jobs a plenty to get more gold then you’d ever be able to carry in a coin sack. And he’d accepted, gladly. And every job he did, every task he completed, it wasn’t for the gold but to please you. To see your smile when he showed up back home in the Ratway. Years and years he worked tirelessly, putting all his coins into a cozy house with nice furniture that he built all by himself, the leftover money spent spoiling you with gems and jewelry and nice clothes. His fingers caressing yours when he handed it over, melting under your warm stare. Until one day he handed you a necklace of Mara, and asked you to wear it when you came to visit him tonight.

#cod #call of duty #John price #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #skyrim au

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firesnap · 1 year

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When we were sort of in a more golden age of dsmp meta, one of my favorite topics was about Tommy and grief and how grief/mourning painted so much of his story. We saw it through all of his major arcs -- grief for Wilbur and his home and his place among his friends and lost possessions and mourning for that lost sense of brotherhood and uncomplicated adventures and the part of himself that felt gone forever.

Then we got Tommy's sort of healing era. He built things. He tried to reestablish bonds with Ranboo and Tubbo. He had setbacks, yeah, with the prison and Wilbur returning and unearthing all that unresolved anger and grief, but he was trying. In a perfect world, he would have made it.

Instead he consistently showed he was trapped in that cycle of grief and mourning while the narrative continuously (and far too much) punished him for it. The continued loss of pets, his home, his friends and possessions just kept that mindset fresh in his mind that he was always missing something.

And then Wilbur left and we see Tommy spiral. That's the only word for it, isn't it? He isolated himself in a cave that they, flat out, said was a bit like Pogtopia. He refused to talk to people. He refused to even be seen by people. He isolated himself in his anger and grief over losing the same person again and began to talk to some idealized version of Wilbur that couldn't leave.

Then, in the midst of his spiral, he started a chain of events that ended up killing him. On top of all the parallels to Tommy and S1 Wilbur we could make, we end up with sort of the saddest conclusion November 16th could have ever set up.

Tommy died from his grief and his (and the story's) inability to process it.

If you had told me a year ago that Wilbur would have gotten the conclusion where he had to process and face the worst parts of himself and choose, regardless, to live? I wouldn't have believed you. It was messy, but there was hope laced through it everywhere and despite some fumbles along the way, it was a surprisingly satisfying to see a character so often struggling to stay above the water get some sort of self care.

And Tommy, who Wilbur literally describes as hope and a reason to figure himself out, doesn't make it. Hope died in the chest where it was left.

As interesting as I find the continuation of that grief theme, it's still hard to wash out the bitterness that leaves in my mouth.

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honey-minded-hivemind · 3 days

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Ooooooo

I have come, with something!

So, imagine reader is a young adult instead of the teen. They already gone through the system, was never adopted, so they have a lot of resentment to parents and such. And they actually work in the school as an assistant teacher. The team thing happens and when reader realizes they were being used, they quit, and after, cut out anything showing they’re a mutant. Maybe filling the claws way down to look like normal nails, or if it’s like wolverine’s, they use a rock to break it.

How would everyone react to seeing reader after that, either fresh from their self mutilation, or some days after?

Thanks for reading my rant!

🌂

Oooooo... Okay, okay, that's interesting! I still plan to have Reader as a teen in the main au, but Reader as a young adult? Not bad, if I say so. I'm going to count this as an au of the Smilodon AU, because I have an idea for how Reader finding all of this out goes, but... I really like this ask. So good job! Let's do it-

If the others, the X-Men and Brotherhood, saw Reader like that... I think they'd feel nauseous. Light-headed. Sick. Because their... whatever Reader is to them, is missing parts of their mutation, the parts that were part of them. Their claws... they're filed down, hardly there anymore.. Their fangs... not near as long or sharp as they used to be. And the small bits of fur or fluff that used to dot their arms and legs... they're gone, leaving the skin underneath. This isn't what they wanted. They wanted Reader as their, well... okay, they had used Reader. They didn't want to, in the end, and the teens wanted to stop it, but- They just couldn't. They tried. The adults... they feel remorse. A bit scared. Because now they know Reader can and will harm themself (and likely had before). When Xavier looks deeper into Reader's thoughts, he sees their inner-self, and it isn't a monster or a beast or an evil person... it's a scared, lonely, hurt child, who wants love, but has been denied it so long that they don't trust anyone. And after what all they've done... Reader doesn't even trust them anymore...

Xavier, Scott, and Jean would try to speak rationally with Reader (their version of rational). It goes out the window real quick when Reader's thoughts turn darker, sadder, spiraling. Scott wants to know why Reader did what they did, because he's sorry, and wants them to know they care. He wants them to see it their way. But he mostly wants to make things better between them. Jean wants to help Reader, and comfort them, but now there's a literal mental wall between them, full of bitterness. She wants to reach them,, to stop them from doing this to themself... Xavier wants to convince Reader they meant no harm, and to give them and the X-Men a proper chance to make it up to them. He knows that Reader will be hard to convince. But they have to hold out hope. If worse came to worse... they can try and move Reader in with them, albeit unwillingly. It might be the only way to keep an eye on them and their health...

Kurt, Kitty, Ororo, and Beast regret getting Reader's hopes up, only for the truth to come out about why they started trying to befriend them in the first place. Seeing Reader remove parts of their mutation, leaving them almost defenseless... Kurt feels scared. He has a visible mutation as well, and while he hid his with the holo watch, Reader didn't have something like that. And they got rid of parts of themself! It's... it's so hard to look at... Kitty wants to hug Reader, wants forgiveness. She's so sorry about what happened, she wants them to know that! But... why would Reader hurt themself? Are they hiding any other wounds? What If they hurt themself again?... Storm is doing her best to stay calm and motherly, which sadly doesn't get her very far. She knows they've hurt Reader, and it doesn't feel good, for Reader or for them. But they need to own up to it. The best they can do is apologize, and hope Reader forgives them, or at least doesn't hurt themself further. Perhaps getting Hank to talk with them would be better... Hank would try and help them, would try to talk with Reader. He wants to provide therapy, or at least get them to have a medical exam. He needs to know how bad they hurt themself. But they're not budging. He doesn't want Charles to force Reader. No. But if they want to help them, they need them under their care. And sadly, Reader does not want to be under their care or protection after everything...

Rogue, Evan, and Logan feel guilty. They know they didn't trust Reader at first. That they didn't want to give them the benefit of the doubt. But seeing how bad it's hurt them, that they'd rather hurt themself than them... It's a tough pill to swallow. Reader already had trust issues. They already didn't have a high opinion of themself. And they just made those a whole lot worse. Rogue is truly sorry, wanting to have Reader stay with them so they don't hurt themself or disappear. She's scared that if they look away from them, they'll be gone. That Reader will leave, or worse, be dead. Evan wants to apologize, but he also wants Reader to give them a second chance. Even his aunt is in on it, and maybe Reader would believe two of them over just one? He really wants them to not give up on them... Logan knows he hasn't handled knowing Reader very well. He knew about some of their past, and wrote them off as a bad influence. And they weren't. They're the cub of his "brother" (he doesn't know if that fuzzy maniac is his brother or not), but they've never even met the guy, let alone know who he was. It wasn't fair of him to get mad with them, to treat them as a potential threat. Seeing them harm themself though... It makes him realize that they had every chance to go after all of them, but instead they turned on themself. And for that... he realizes he shouldn't have been been hard. So cold.

The Brotherhood teens want to throw up. Their favorite assistant teacher, the one who tended to see the best in them, is missing parts of themself, or has cut them down. And it scares the cr*p out of them. This is their favorite teacher! Their go-to adult in school when things go wrong or people won't leave them alone! And they've. Hurt. Themself. They didn't want to use them! They swear! But... they're not sure this is an easy fix. This isn't as simple as saying sorry. This had consequences, and they've (mostly) learned that one has to own up to them, no matter what they be. Lance doesn't want to imagine Reader leaving them. They're the one adult he trusts. And now they're scared, or at least wary, of all of them. The X-Teens are in the same boat, so while he hates to say it, he might have to work with them to get Reader to stay, and hopefully heal and regrow their claws and fangs and fuzz. Todd feels sick. He didn't realize they could do that. They could actually remove parts of their mutation? Just like that? Thinking about it gives him shivers. Who would give their powers up? Who'd willingly hurt themself? He understands why they'd do it, he just wishes they hadn't. Fred wants to hug Reader and cry. His favorite adult (who's only a few years older than all of them) just hurt themself. And is upset with them. And is sad. He doesn't want them to be upset! Or hurt! He's trying to apologize, and is on the same boat as Lance to get the X-Teens help in apologizing, if it means Reader might forgive them. Pietro knows what they did. He knows it was wrong. Is he sorry?... Yes. But he still wants Reader with them. Seeing them they way they are... he still thinks they should be with them, even more now. They need help. His dad can get help, okay? H*ck, if they have to, they can pull Sabretooth in, okay?! He just... he doesn't want Reader to hurt themself even more. They're nice, and pay attention to him and his sister, good attention. How can they let them hurt? Wanda is asking Reader why they did it. She wants to know Reader's perspective on this, on why they did it, how they feel about them all. She doesn't want to hurt them, and she won't, but Reader needs help. She will not have her favorite adult die on her or hurt themself, so they'd better hurry up and go to her father or Xavier and get them involved, otherwise, they're going to have a problem. Mystique feels for Reader. Being distrusted by everyone. Having mutations that single them out. It hurts. It hurts her even more knowing she has hurt Reader with her actions. But this proves to her Reader needs a team. A group. She's grateful Reader hasn't taken their anger or hurt out on them, like their father might have. She knows they deserve it. But... she isn't sure if they should turn to... the X-Men... blegh... or to Magneto... who she's mad with... And unfortunately, those are her two options. The joys of being an adult, being responsible... Hopefully they can reach Reader before it could be too late...

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kiatheinsomniac · 11 months

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hi kiaa!! i hope youre doing good and school is going good too :) dont overwork yourself pls girl 😩❤️

since requests are open i figured id come and request something!! how would the assassins (altair, ezio, connor, arno, and jacob) react to the reader being extremely sick? how would they take care of the reader? would they be scared of catching the sickness? etc etc. ❤️

☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: yeee, uni's been fine! i'm done until september now so all I really have to do is pray I've passed all my modules (looking at you, spanish and latin american culture and italian history) and do my summer reading for next year's modules <3 and i make sure to never overwork myself on my blog! i really like what i do here anyway so i can manage lots of writing hehe 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: altaïr, ezio, connor, arno, jacob 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: very slight angst in Jacob's part

｡･:*˚:✧｡ altaïr ibn-la'ahad

♡ Altaïr takes a break from his work to look after you. When he knows you'll do alright on your own for a while, he'll go out to train for a few hours to stay in shape but that and cooking meals for you are the only times he'll be leaving your side.

♡ he'll do everything he can to keep your temperature normal whether it's tenderly wiping down your body with a cool, damp cloth while another is folded over your forehead or he's having to bundle you up with blankets while he spoon feeds you, he'll stay by your side to keep you company and will be reading books while you rest.

｡･:*˚:✧｡ezio auditore

♡ Ezio brings in whatever doctors he can find to look after you but he'll be hovering around in the meantime to make sure they're treating you well and being careful (he'll honestly treat you like you're made of glass).

♡ he'll stay by your side for as long as possible and even if he has to leave you in Claudia's or a doctor's care for the day, he's in the kitchen in the evening cooking meals that Maria taught him to make and then sitting on the edge of your bed to feed them to you while he asks how you've been and he tells you about his day.

｡･:*˚:✧｡ratonhnaké:ton | connor kenway

♡ Ratonhnhaké:ton will treat you himself for as much is in his ability to before he goes into town to call out a doctor to see you. He'll diligently follow any perscriptions that you're given and he'll put almost everything on hold to look after you. He grew up without a father, he lost his mother and his whole village - he's not going to lose you too.

♡ he'll make sure you get enough fresh air, enough water, enough to eat. He'll be making herbal concoctions for you to help you heal faster. He just wants to see you better again.

｡･:*˚:✧｡ arno dorian

♡ he calls in the best doctors he can right away. He doesn't want to leave your side and he'll take some time away from the brotherhood is he has to. He'll cook for you, light meals like soups or stews that are easier for you to eat in your current state.

♡ he'll read to you but he keeps his distance a little. He doesn't want the both of you to get sick because then he won't be able to look after you.

｡･:*˚:✧｡ jacob frye

♡ Jacob's never really been good at the caretaker role. Even when he was younger and Evie was ill, their father was the one to look after her while he was just left to his own devices. Jacob would always notice that he didn't receive the same level of emotional care from his father when he fell ill though.

♡ so, he calls in a doctor/nurse and follows all the instructions they give him to look after you. He doesn't care if he gets ill too, he'll cuddle with you and chat with you and he'll even sing quietly to you while cooling your forehead with a damp cloth or bundling you up in blankets. He'll basically care for you in every way he's advised and then in every way he noticed Evie got but he didn't from their father but he always wanted. He doesn't want you to feel the way he did.

☾ ⋆ ﾟlike my work? why not: ∘ buy me a coffee? ∘ commission me? ∘ join my taglist ∘ consider following/reblogging

🏷️@gojohater101 @ayameiris4 @veryfancydoilies @asuni921 @writing-noah @danielle-marie @minimisthios @tired-lime @ghostofpolaris @etherealsdreaming @loopycorn1123 @havatnah @firagirl @catou1305 @daddyadler @aarnodoriann @b3k1720 @asianbutnotjapanese

#✎ kia’s 2k event ༉‧ ♡*.✧#altaïr ibn la'ahad x reader #altaïr x reader #altaïr ibn la'ahad #altaïr #assassins creed x reader #ezio auditore x reader #ezio x reader #ezio #ezio auditore #connor kenway x reader #connor kenway #ratonhnhaké:ton x reader #ratonhnhaké:ton #arno dorian x reader #arno dorian #jacob frye x reader #jacob frye

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missshirophantom · 6 months

Text

Yandere Macaque Headcanon

Warning : weak blood, hints of forced feeding, hint of isolation, delusion (from the side of the Macaque).

Macaque was soft by nature. Only a few people knew about it. Wukong and the brotherhood, for which Peng often mocked him, and the others just shrugged their shoulders and told him to be careful.

Macaques knew without them. It was not for nothing that, even before his acquaintance with Wukong, he built a cold, stone wall around himself. He was wounded more than once when he was worried about others. Even after getting to know Wukong and the brotherhood, he did it. Because of what he had to hide the wounds from the monkey, because he did not want to bother him when there was a rebellion against the Heavens on the nose.

But he knew they would lose. It's been a long time. He tried to warn them, to protect them, but they didn't listen to him. No, not all of them. Yellow Tusk and Azure would definitely have taken his words into consideration.

Macaque was as hurt as they were that Wukong betrayed them. But he knew why he did it. He was angry at his own impotence that he could do nothing to save Wukong. Every time he touched the seal, it burned him with the strongest flame. Therefore, he reluctantly decided that he would try to ease Wukong's imprisonment.

One single time was enough to break his heart. Angry words of Wukong, refusal of food, refusal of his help.

It was worse than all the wounds he had received before. Worse than Peng carefree bullying.

It was so painful.

Macaque was not hot-tempered and emotional like Wukong. But... He just ran away, before shouting out what he regretted for another 500 years and threw out a peach — a symbol of their friendship. Their affectionway

He was always close to the brotherhood of that time. Keeping an eye on them from the shadows. He felt safer that way.

However, he heard rumors about the release of Wukong and his capture by a monk. The macaque then barely plucked up the courage to talk to him. He hoped to apologize and restore what had been destroyed, but... Everything didn't go according to plan. He was beaten to death, smearing his head into a bloody mess.

He was crying. Shouted. He resisted, but Wukong did not stop. His heart stopped only after he left, staggering, to his monk

After his resurrection, he could not come to his senses. It was so painful and fresh in his memory. The macaque was able to change this fear into hatred for this monkey, which did not listen to him in the past and did as he wanted.

He hated him.

But at the same time his heart ached with longing and sadness, and tears welled up in his eye.

That is why he will do everything so that his starlight or sunshine does not go down this path. So as not to become as cruel and cold-blooded as Wukong.

He will protect them, even if he has to keep them in the Realm of Shadows. But this is an extreme case. He's not so cruel as to imprison them there for mistakes, right?

Right?

Everything was for their good. The macaque takes care of them. Does not bind. Feeds good food. Spends time with them.

So what else do they need?.

#headcanon #tw yandere #soft yandere #yandere macaque #lmk macaque #lmk #lmk headcanon #yandere lmk #yandere oneshot #yandere imagines

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ridingtorohan · 6 months

Text

𓇻 ft. shay cormac x assassin recruit gn reader 𓇻 warnings! minor spoilers for AC Rogue. alcohol consumption + minor injury. 𓇻 au. reader is Hope and Liam's newest addition to the Brotherhood. Unfortunately, you've just learned about Shay's involvement... long after you've already met him. 𓇻 enjoy! feel free to like, reblog, or send in asks! ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎read on ao3! - masterlist - join the taglist!

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ───※ ·❆· ※───

"Looks like you've got a right shiner this time."

It's a voice you recognize, even through the thick of the fog. With bottle of brandy in hand, opening to your bottom lip, you've managed to cool the swell of your ego better than you have your bruise. Tongue darts out, pushing at your upper lip.

His glove rests to your cheekbone, index finger trailing softly over tender skin. Never tender enough because you flinch instinctively, expression pulling tighter. Guarded was never a flattering expression on Shay and it certainly wasn't now. Nose wrinkling, you incline your head away, the cold now freshly stinging.

Even though it's been a few hours, the tenderness hasn't gone down, still bitter and sitting coloured beneath the flush of your skin. At least you've managed the swelling some. The ghost of Shay's fingers on your skin lingers. You turn away, nursing the bottle with another sip. With a low, wanting creak of wood, the saloon's deck groans beneath Shay's weight as he shifts, back turned towards the banister, eyes always on you. Elbows resting over the rails, fresh snow lines the roots of his dark hair, skin still unbothered by the cold. So he's the one you heard step out after you.

"Did Hope give it to ye?" He asked, voice low and careful, eyes still impossibly dark, even when the warm tavern light dances over his features. Your mouth twists, sour line worrying into the skin.

"Liam."

"Ah." Then, "Well, he's always been a right git anyhow."

Looking at him like this, an air of familiarity drifting between you two, it almost tempers the sorrow and grief that still echoes in your bones. The insisting song of rage and injustice. Your fingers curl tighter around the bottle- and you see it too. How Shay's eyes don't even dart away but a barely perceptible twitch. Always watching each movement. A biting scoff rises in your throat before you can stop it.

For everything that Hope and Liam had trained you for, for all the burdens you bore, memories and lessons drilled into your head- this was not how you thought it would go.

Because every scary story told to you, every drill and hasty explanation- it was all because of him. Every bruise and aching joint- every nasty remark and lessons forced well past their dues. Even Achilles, as senile as he seemed, remarked upon the force the Brotherhood trained you.

All to avenge ghosts of Assassins you didn't know, never had a chance to know. All for a Brotherhood that had been tarnished before you joined.

You were meant to replace Shay, you realize that now. A bitter truth that had come to a head earlier that night, when Liam saw how you held your blades. Accosted you for it, demanding where you learned it from. 'From Shay', you had wanted to say, because it had been the truth. Then the rest of it followed, with Hope pleading with you to leave for the night while everyone cooled down. While they cooled down.

Looking back, you should have known better than to accept some strange man's friendly banters in taverns. Known better than to walk his boat, learning its knots better than you learned your knives.

It makes sense. Shay befriended you to sniff out the Assassin's plans. It made sense. Just as it made sense that Liam tried building you into a better tool, trying to outpace the losses that the Brotherhood had suffered.

'It's not fair.'

You think how his hands felt on your sides, careful in his guidance. Teaching you with a far greater patience than Liam had, with far kinder methods than Hope's. You had learned better under Shay- and somehow, that made it all worse, stinging more than the betrayal did.

"I hate you," you tell him. Shay tilts his head, little more than an acknowledgement. Eyes studying you, judging your reaction. Fog puffs in front of his face with his slow exhale. The wind blows it back, dusting across dark eyes before disappearing into the night.

"I know."

Still, even though you know, even though he knows, neither of you move. It's just the slow tilt of the bottle against your lips, burning motion of liquor down your throat. Cold seeping through your clothes, always too thin, never durable enough for the winter. Something that Shay had tried to correct you on but Kesegowaase didn't care for. Always too busy for your innate questions.

You want to hate Shay for everything. Pin it all on him. It'd be the easiest way. Give in to what your mentors had been trying to drill into your head: enemy, enemy, enemy.

Glass presses to your lips again. Shay's fingers ghost over yours, leather pressing light to exposed fingers. A grip that remains solid - but not insistent... and with the patience of a man that wouldn't exist in the Shay that the Brotherhood knew.

But he lets you take another drink anyway. You weren't a lightweight. Shay had made sure of that.

"Are you going to kill me?" You decide on saying when the fire has tempered in your throat. All that's left is the chill in your eyes, the nip of frost and frozen winds on your cheeks.

His fingers remain on the bottle and with a light tug, you concede, letting him bring it to his own lips. Cleanshaven, unlike the scruffy remnants that you had been sworn to. In all the ways that matter, he's unlike the man you've been told about. But you can see where the threat lies, the careful way he tilts his shoulders, languid but prepared. That part of the stories are true.

"Only if our blades cross," Shay responds, swallow audible, eyes dark as he peers at you over the neck of the bottle. He passes it to you, fingers brushing over yours.

Fingers connect. You try not to memorize how they feel.

"They'll order me to kill you," you decide to say.

Shay blinks, then blinks again when the snow lingers on his lashes. "Aye. And I won't let you." You scoff bitterly against the bottle. You both have roles to play. You just wish yours wasn't this.

You turn your eyes away, skimming over the balcony, out into the rolling hills of snow. More powder falls from the sky, dusting across your shoulders, frozen kisses upon cold-flushed skin. It'd be easy, you know, for Shay to just reach over and slide his blade into your neck. Nobody would hear you. Even with gold light dusting over the white expanse ahead, there's still dark shadows. You're both still isolated.

The music in the other room sounds so far away.

He doesn't move and you get to take another drink.

You think, then, that this isn't all there is. That there's more to the man that you were told about. That words uttered with hate or hellfire don't amount to the hours you've spent by his side, listening to some bawdy tale that Gist told him.

Then, in the same breath, you think: he doesn't have to kill me and I don't have to kill him.

Then, in another: what if there was another way?

Because for all the assassins are, good teachers aren't one of them. That you still swore to protect the innocent and your blade hasn't known flesh. In all these moments, caught between the Homestead and someone you had thought you had known, there exists things that you don't know. Impossibly, that there might be kindness beyond this rage and suffering that everyone has been dealt.

Again, in your mind's eye, you feel the shadow of Shay's gloves on your arms and waist, correcting your stance. Think of Achilles' words, heated and grave. Of Hope's flattering gait as she leads you through her warehouse.

"Shay, what-" You turn, throat tight, shadows and aches lingering in your mind still. There's nothing there, the impressions of his boots filling with the drifting of snow. Only gloves left on the railing, cuffs rimmed with fur. Still warm, even as you press chapped and shaking fingers inside, leather cushioning your palms. Because this is who Shay is, always watching out for you.

The next sip of the bottle goes down tasteless, no longer satisfying. The despair doesn't run as hot in your blood anymore, though the sense of betrayal lingers. Except now you wonder, just who exactly you feel betrayed by.

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merrimentsmight · 21 days

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Cicero and Listener gathering flowers for Mother, then killing people who're bounty hunting the Listener and then just having a cute camp/picnic while still covered in blood,,,,, that's my favourite daydream of Cici

Mother needed dragon's tongue, Cicero said. He would always bring her flowers, and make sure they were fresh and fragrant. It was sweet, and it made him happy. The Listener suspected it made Mother happy, too. So they were picking dragon's tongue off the side of the road south of Windhelm. The Listener was being careful, picking only a few blossoms from each plant to keep them growing and healthy. Cicero was less calculating, and picked whichever ones he thought best, even if that was every flower the plant had to offer. When they had a full basket of flowers, the Listener rested, sitting on the side of a stone ledge, and began to pick wild jazbay grapes, popping some of the sweet berries into their mouth and adding some to the over-crowded basket.

Cicero kept gathering flowers. They watched him flit about in the late afternoon sun, mumbling and laughing to himself and looking, gods bless him, content. “And there was the one with the, no, no that won't do, too crass. Oh, terribly, terribly crass. But perhaps if I reworded it...” he mumbled to himself, following a train of thought whose beginning and end were as obfuscated to himself as anyone else. They were so caught up in looking at him that they didn't notice the quickly approaching footsteps on the road behind them, despite the fact that they were far from stealthy.

“Well!" said Cicero sharply, catching the Listener's attention, “It looks like we have company. Should Cicero set another place at the table?” The rest of the world came back into focus, and they hopped off of the ledge to stand next to him.

“Perhaps it's nothing," they said, as the group approached, "perhaps they'll just keep walking.” They both hoped that it was not nothing, and that they would be stupid enough to make trouble. They both got their wish.

“You! We know who you are,” said one of them, a thick-accented Dunmer near the front.

"Oh?” They asked, clutching the basket of flowers like an innocent youth. A sentiment undercut by Cicero's grim laughter.

“Yeah.” He returned, stepping dangerously closer, “and ever since what you did to the Emperor you've got a mighty fine price on your head, too.” He was in leather armor, as were most of his cadre, and the leather was from cows and not netches. They hadn't traveled too terribly far for the bounty. The Listener wondered how far rumors had spread, and who was spreading them. They had gone to great lengths to remove witnesses in the past.

“Do you have proof, or are you going to execute me on your hunch alone?” They asked.

“Please. You have the jester with you. There's only one little redheaded jester in all of Skyrim, far as I know, and he's your one.”

“Oh! Cicero feels terribly special,” he said, knives already drawn. But he did like that idea of possession, that even strangers knew who he was, and who the Listener was, and that he was theirs.

The Listener smiled in that way they did, sharp and nasty, that made Cicero's heart start beating even faster than the thrill of the impending fight did. The good name of the Dark Brotherhood had been tarnished so badly that these poor men had no idea what they were up against. The man reached for the sword on his belt, and Cicero, like a well trained attack dog, pounced.

He cut the man's throat before anyone knew what was happening. A spray of blood issued from the wound and covered Cicero and the Listener and the basket of flowers, which the Listener set gingerly behind them before drawing their own weapons and advancing to join Cicero in the throng. They made quick work of the rest of the bounty hunters, who reacted slowly, as if they had been expecting the assassins to surrender when outnumbered.

“Mash and bash and swipe and clash! Ha!” laughed Cicero, sidestepping to avoid overturning the discarded baskets of flowers, “nobody gets the best of the Dark Brotherhood.” The Listener allowed themself to laugh with him. When it was all said and done, they were ringed by the bodies of the dead and dying, sitting among the flowers and leaning on each other to laugh like children. By the time they stopped fighting, and then stopped laughing, the moons had come out.

“Oh,” said the Listener, pushing away from where Cicero had clutched them in his helpless mirthful peals, “I suppose we'll have to set up here for the night.”

“Mmhm,” said Cicero, still giggling. He lowered his bloody head onto their lap and popped a blood-splattered grape from their basket into his mouth. “Whatever you say, my Listener.”

#cicero x listener #cicero skyrim #asks #my writing #i admit i do not have a skill for brevity #if i had written out a full picnic we would be here all night #anyway here u go anon #they bring the bloody dragons tongue back home to Mother #one must imagine them playing in spouts of blood like kids with a sprinkler

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slocumjoe · 1 year

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companions and their comfort foods

Cait; didnt care about food until Sole dragged her out of the Combat Zone. Sturges makes a tarberry cobbler that is to die for. It's lightly crisp, it's sweet, it's juicy; it's incredible. Once they get a reliable source of milk, and then cream, that cobbler is an orgasm in a skillet. It ends up being rather good for her mental health, too, as she starts going berry picking for it and makes friends with the farmers. It's also just a naturally soothing activity. It's hard to think about all your trauma when you're waist-deep in water, plucking berries off a bush.

Curie; Does tea count as food? A delicate Carrot Flower tea keeps her going wherever she is. She takes it with sap or, if lucky enough to forage or buy it, Stingwing honey. The tea itself has a slightly tart finish, almost citrusy. Curie takes it hot or iced, depending on the weather. It was one of the first things she tried after getting her synth body. For a meal, she really enjoys Preston's campfire cooking. Wants to find a working grill for him, Nick, and Danse to bond over. The act of cooking is a time-honored group activity, and goodness knows Preston and Danse neglect their emotional connections.

Danse; The standard Brotherhood rations wouldn't quite apply as 'comfort food', especially not after exile. Danse is utilitarian. he doesn't have a personal relationship with any specific food. But...Nick, despite not being able to drink it himself, makes the best coffee. Even with garbage grounds. A hot, strong cup of coffee in the morning is sometimes the only thing convincing Danse that it's worth waking up. Danse is usually the one cooking; he's gotten good at it over the years. Accidentally betters his relationship with everyone just because he makes decent food. Even Hancock is on his best behavior come breakfast.

Deacon; Cornbread and honey. Cornbread is one of the more common foods, at least in places where they can grind cornmeal. It's messy, it's drier than a desert, and it's pretty bland, but it's just...nice. There was a bar back in University Point that made it, and sitting by the ocean, watching the waves, and munching on some hot, buttery, honeyed cornbread is just such a simple pleasure, how could anyone not savor it? Preston makes the best cornbread now. Has intrusive thoughts of the sexual variety over it. No, Deacon, you don't have to do that to get cornbread. Preston isn't into that anyway, it wouldn't even work. Those pre-war 'films' lied to you, buddy.

Gage; He's a basic bitch. It's steak. Steak and mashed potatoes and a salty gravy. But he's picky. If you want a good steak, you'll want a fresh cut from a Brahmin. But good fucking luck finding Brahman steak. You can't kill the damn things just for the meat, because the milk you get is more valuable. One happy Brahmin can get you a lot of milk, which means a lot of cheese, butter, yogurt. It's a long wait until a cow gets old enough to butcher. Then, the owner might keep the meat to themselves. Gage is a raider, yeah, but he's busy. He can't keep tabs on every cow in the area to see what farm to raid for a fucking steak.

Hancock; Break. Fast. Sand. Wich. Mirelurk egg, grilled cram, cheese, tato...goddamn. God. Damn. One time he put mac and cheese on it instead of Brahmin cheese and it almost turned him religious. Hancock doesn't do sweet breakfast, thinks it's not 'mayoral-y'. He takes his sandwiches to, like, a rooftop, to just eat in silence and savor it. Gets really aggravated if interrupted. Also, guess who makes the best breakfast sandwiches? Danse. Fucking Danse. Life's just not fair, man. Also wants to get the guy a grill; maybe it would, like...help him chill. Give him a different personality.

MacCready; Sugar bombs! Sugar bombs! Sugar bombs! It's basically dog kibble for a twenty-year-old. He'll eat them dry, but he'll pay top cap for some milk. For some concerning reason, despite being 210+ years old, they're never stale. He doesn't care. A bowl of cereal and a comic book, or if Sole lends it, a Pipboy and video game, is an awesome way to start the day. It's a little Saturday ritual he tries to have with Duncan. Afterward, they go dig holes looking for X6's treasure. Gets excited whenever he sees X6 with mud on his boots; knows there's a patch of fresh, disturbed dirt out there somewhere.

Nick; Before, OG Nick loved himself a good lasagna. Currently, Nick gets his fix by helping Preston and Danse cook. Makes coffee the way Danse likes it, with a lot of sugar/honey. The others complain it's too strong and sweet, but the next best thing for Danse's mood would be to sneak chems in it. Obviously, Nick isn't going to do that. And he can't sneak it in Danse's own cup after brewing, because he'll notice, and criticize the waste of resources. A happy Danse is a tolerable Danse. Making Danse happy risks making Danse persnickety because Danse thinks joy and pleasure are selfish. Nick would pull his hair out if he had any.

Preston; Grew up in a Creole family that would sooner nuke the world a second time than give up their family recipes. The current Minutemen make a lot of dishes they've learned from Preston. He's pretty smug about it. His dad's cooking is near and dear to his heart, but his comfort food would be fruit salad. Mutfruit, melon, tarberry, and some canned fruit Sturges nabbed at a store before the raiders cornered them in Concord. It was the first meal he'd had in a while, and it meant they were finally safe. Now it triggers that relief whenever he has it. Makes it when he's anxious. If you notice cans piling up in Preston's trash, please check on him.

Piper; Would have said Takahashi's noodles, but after some time away from them, eating a wider variety of food, she likes them less. They're still good, but they used to be "I am a tired 20 year old who can't cook" good. Now they're just "I remember eating this a lot" good. Her actual comfort food would be s'mores. Piper's mom died when Nat was really little. Afterward, her dad paid for marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers whenever he could, and they'd sit around a campfire and enjoy while her dad told stories. Piper hasn't continued the tradition; it hurts too much, and Nat doesn't remember their parents anyway.

X6-88; didn't understand the concept of comfort food until traveling with these idiots. Still thought himself above it. But then...Piper handed him an innocuous, tiny package. "Gumdrops," she called them. Sour, faintly sweet. Coursers were fed a flavorless nutrient block. She noticed his interest. Snuck him similar things. "If you put this in cola, it explodes!" He tested it. It very much exploded, but the hard candy was still good. Then Deacon got in on the contraband, gave him a box of Dandy-Boy apples. Pre-war snack food was prohibited for its concerning nutritional value. The illegality made it all the more alluring. One thing lead to another, and now X6 has locked safes filled with candy, buried in the woods behind Sanctuary. The local children seek his treasure.

#fo4 #fallout 4 #paladin danse #preston garvey #nick valentine #piper wright #x6-88 #robert joseph maccready #companions react #hancock

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jwillbiteyourfingersoff · 19 hours

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Ch.1 : Meet Cute

Norm Maclean loves his sister, and after Betty finds out about his discovery in vault 31, he is forced out into the wastelands to "find her"

Norm Maclean/Gn!Surface!Reader

Another day in an unloving wasteland, in an unloving life, and undignified exile. Getting adopted then expelled from the brotherhood of steel in 6 months had to be some kind of laughable record. Stalking through the desolate stretches of sand and broken down buildings put a hamper on my mood, but sitting alone in one of said buildings and finding some rations and a place to rest let my sour mood settle for a while. Taking the goggles from my eyes and laying them besides the palette, hand still on my hostler, I closed my eyes for a possible 30 minutes of sweet escape from the world surrounding me.

This slumber, of course, was interrupted by the sounds of approaching feet. An eye shoots open, the hand still resting lightly on my pistol tightens, readying to shoot an angry cannibal (or maybe a ghoul?) straight between the eyes. “Fuck off unless you want your brains as some fresh paint for these walls.” I bark, pointing my pistol at the entrance of the half destroyed structure. The footsteps stop, and a small noise seems to come from the entrance. I walk closer, pistol still aimed and ready, trying to sneak a peek outside the slanted door. I see someone dressed in all blue, yellow accents curving their suit and…

“Holy shit.” I whisper, not believing what I’m seeing for a moment. “A… vault dweller?” I lower my gun slightly as I continue to scan the man before me. He's slim, slight in his build, almost mousey. His hair is fluffed and he looks like hes actually most likely showered in the past week. “I thought all y’all were dead. What are you doing up here?” I question him, gun now less of a concern to keep up at all times.

“I-” The vault boy croaks before coughing, “My name is Norm. I’m looking for my sister.” He raises his hand up to his sides as he takes a very small step forward, showing his lack of weapons and threat to me as best he can. “Her name is Lucy, she has a suit with a 33 on it like me.” He continues to speak cautiously and slowly, as if trying to communicate with an animal. “I don't want trouble or to hurt you, I just want to know if you've seen her.” He looks at me, sincere and hiding his fear well.

I study his face. Hes admittedly quite cute, but that might be because he doesn't look like he's starving and rotting at the same time. His big brown eyes feel… trustable. Truly a unique trait on the surface, same as his uncracked lips and clean(ish) face. “I haven't seen your sister, vault boy.” He seems to deflate a bit, some of the hopeful energy he carries seems to vanish.

“Oh. Alright, then. Have a…” He looks behind me, into the sand filled, ramshackle building, “…palatable rest of your day.” He begins to walk backwards, and I lower my gun. He lets out a sigh of relief and turns around as I do so. He begins stomping through the sand away from me, but something makes me want him to stay.

“You know, a vaulty like you ain't gonna make it long alone out here.” I yell after him. “The only reason I didn't shoot ya is because I don't like killing people who ain't carrying no weapons.” I re-holster my gun, putting my hands on my hips as I watch him try to ignore me. “Not a lot of people are gonna be as kind, especially not to a vaulty like you.” He stops for a moment, turning to look at me in a mix of annoyance and fear. “That 33 might as well be a big ol target on your back.”

He turns to look at me fully, facing me as he seems to scan me “And why should I trust what you say?”

I shrug “Shouldn't, really. But if you want someone who don't kill for fun or food, I’m the best you got for miles.” Leaning against the door, I cross my arms. We stare at one another for a long while, him searching for answers in a purposefully cryptic face. “This is the only livable shelter for a long while, I’m willing to share as long as you promise not to steal any of my shit.” The deal comes out of the blue even for me, often I’m not willing to share my spaces but something about him seemed different. Maybe it was because he was a vaulty, their whole shtick was being harmless and wanting to help right?

Hey y'all! this is the first chapter in a series that I'm gonna be doing about Norm post-season 1, hope y'all like it :]

#fanfic #norm maclean x reader #norm maclean x gender neutral reader #norm maclean x gn reader #norm maclean fanfiction #fallout x reader #fallout tv series

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