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just-here-for-humor · 4 hours
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When she is the big spoon but you're not the little spoon
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bark
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Little Chicken | Cowboy!Nikto x F!Reader | Oneshot
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Figured out a cute little nickname for Nikto's reader in the Cowboy AU originally created by @ghouljams as always! I thought it was fitting since "chicken" or "chook" is an affectionate term where I live and I think it's an adorable petname.
Nikto has complicated feelings about watching his girl doing her job. She's by no means weak or incompetent at it, but he can only hold his nerve for so long.
Call of Duty Masterlist
“Цыплёнок,” Nikto huffs, trying in vain to call you back while he watches you continue to wade through the knee-deep water of the river. He normally trusts your ability to handle yourself with large and dangerous animals; this is your job and you’ve been doing it for years. But this? This is too far even for him.  
“Nikto! Come look!” you excitedly call to him, looking back to grin at him with that blindingly bright smile that shows off your dimples. In any other situation, seeing such a loving, genuine smile aimed his way would give him that warm feeling in his gut. Instead, it just concerns him even more that you’re paying attention to him and not the animal at your feet.  
“нет, we can see fine from here,” he keeps his eyes glued to the huge creature floating in place only a few feet from you.  
“Aww, c’mon Nikto! He’s only a little fella, can’t be more than seven or eight feet,” you look back to the alligator sitting on the riverbed. You hum to yourself, tilting your head this way and that as you observe the animal, “he’s got a nice thick snout, so it’s definitely a male.” While you continue to list different facts about the species, Nikto can only watch as the alligator in question starts drifting closer.
“-and look, because of all the sensory nerves along the top of the head, tapping the water’s surface like this will cause him to-” you reach down toward the water and- Before you can do... whatever it is you’re planning on doing, he takes a couple of long strides into the water and reaches down, hauling you bodily from the river.  
“нет, абсолютно нет, не происходит, нет,” He throws you over one shoulder and carries you back to dry land, regardless of your protests.  
“Nikto, Nikto put me down,” he ignores you, “I know what I’m doing, I wouldn’t have let him actually bite me.” You grumble when he continues all the way back to the truck the two of you arrived in, corralling you into the front seat with his broad body blocking you from attempting to escape.  
You hop up into the seat, turning your body so that you’re sitting facing out the open truck door. The truck is high enough that you can look him in the eye without craning your neck, and the pout you subject him to is admittedly rather endearing. “You will be the death of us, Цыплёнок,” he sighs, gently knocking his forehead against yours.  
Your brows furrow slightly, “I’ve never heard that one before, what does it mean?” you ask quietly, refusing to break this soft moment.  
“It means chicken,” he replies, and tries not to grin when you giggle, “you are like a little chicken, yes?” 
“Are you saying I’m a coward?” you pretend to clutch your pearls, but the dramatic reaction is ruined by your bright grin.  
“No, of course not,” he reassures you, “you’re stupid.”  
He receives a slap to the chest as you gasp, “Nikto!” You glare at him, poking his chest with a single finger, “I guess that makes you a donkey, then, because you’re a complete ass.” 
The cackle that bursts out of him is entirely genuine, but he can’t help it, not when you come out with something so unexpected. You quickly join him in laughter, and the two of you must be a strange sight, sitting in a truck beside the river, giggling like a couple of teenagers.  
“You’re lucky, Цыплёнок, no one else would be allowed to get away with being so rude.” Perhaps he’ll keep the name, it suits you, to be a sweet little chicken, and you don’t seem to be too put off by it given the way you plant a soft kiss against his clothed lips.
-
Translations:
"Цыплёнок" - Little Chicken - An affectionate term for a partner.
"нет" - No
“нет, абсолютно нет, не происходит, нет” - No, absolutely not, not happening, no/nope.
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just-here-for-humor · 6 hours
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Some sketches of Nikto
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just-here-for-humor · 12 hours
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hi I noticed your Nikto post. I don't know much about the character. Does he have DID? Or just the usual "voices" inside his head with no true/vague mental illness attached to him?
While Nikto is canonically diagnosed with acute dissociative disorder after the torture he suffered under the hands of Victor Zakhaev, his voice lines fully embrace the fact that he hears plenty of voices in his head.
Sadly, as Nikto is not part of the campaigns, we know little to nothing about him besides a short in-game bio and his voice lines. Thanks to the latter, we're able to know that he hears at the very least 2 different voices in his head, and they seem to sort of ''take over'' whenever he speaks, as his own voice changes depending on who is talking.
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highlandered & knighted
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mw2 doodle dump
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just-here-for-humor · 12 hours
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I think something a lot of people don't realize is that Ghost isn't insecure. We have that famous interaction with Soap that goes ''are you ugly?'', ''quite the opposite'', and the way that man carries himself in general does NOT scream insecurity. Even his voice lines in multiplayer show him as. just some dude. We even have that CODM Christmas picture of him flexing for the camera, lol. This man is attractive, and he knows it. He's def the type to flex on mirrors when he's alone.
ALSO he's NOT cold !! If you read the comic, he refers to hostages as ''love'' and ''sweetie'' He's a sweet guy, just traumatized.
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just-here-for-humor · 15 hours
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König - Character Study
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Contrary to popular belief, König is not shy. While he does have social anxiety, rather than making him shy, it may make him seem rude (and he can be, sometimes). Blunt comments, side eyes, as well as blank stares through the mask are just some of the things that may make him seem that way, besides his sharp tongue. This man is not afraid at all to speak his mind.
While he sometimes may resent or dislike his height as it got him rejected as a sniper, he knows fully well how imposing his figure is, and the big advantage it gives him on the field over anyone else.
Voice lines such as ''Finally, some worthy adversaries'', ''Having fun yet?'', ''Let's be honest, it's better off in my hands'', ''They are no match for me'' and ''Not bad... I've seen better'' make it clear how cocky this man can be. He's a good soldier and he knows it, no doubt.
After spending most of his childhood being bullied, I can definitely see him being harsh on other soldiers based on voice lines such as ''where did you learn how to shoot?!'' and ''let's not do that again''. He would easily pull rank on other soldiers and get a power trip that he never got to experience when he was much younger, when he was powerless unless he was fighting.
The amazing Jim Boeven (König's VA) replied to my DM on Instagram asking how König would be like as a friend, and he said: ''The best friend someone can ask for. Loyal like nobody else. Helpful and loving.''
Despite being able to kill other soldiers with his bare hands, König knows how to measure his strength with his friends and rescued hostages to make sure he doesn't hurt them on accident. I can see him being nervous to hold anything too small or delicate, such as a small animal or anything that can easily break and is important.
He's still bitter he didn't get to be a sniper, by the way. His voice line ''and they said I couldn't be a sniper'' spits pure venom.
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just-here-for-humor · 15 hours
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Simon ''Ghost'' Riley being a sweetheart
Reading the comic again so here's a small compilation of Ghost being sweet<3
Friendly reminder that despite the mischaracterization online, Ghost is quite the opposite of cold and mean. This man helped his brother recover from drug abuse and didn't return to the army until he was recovered, kicked his abusive father out of his mother's life, was the best man at his brother's wedding, loved his family, got revenge for his family after they were murdered despite wanting to kill himself, and knows very well how to calm people down, as well as being reassuring to hostages and telling his very difficult story to strangers in order to gain time to save them all.
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just-here-for-humor · 15 hours
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Do you think nikto before making a choice try to make his personalities all agree or he is not listening to them and goes wild?
You shouldn't have asked because I'm about to turn into a yapposaurus rex.😭 Kind of a tiny character study simply based on the fact that I can't shut up and the 'tism is strong. efhjefbhj
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Okay, so based on voice lines, Nikto seems to have at least 2 other personalities, each one with a different voice. There's regular Nikto, with a very rough voice that still manages to convey a lot of emotion based on what he's feeling, whether it's positive or negative.
The second personality has a more cheery and light-hearted voice, his pitch grows higher and louder, seemingly sounding even a bit childish.
The third personality has a deeper voice and an angrier/colder tone compared to regular Nikto. He has a voice line with his regular voice saying “forgive us, he made us do this”, and it is possible that the third personality is the one in control of the other 2 personalities, though it's unclear to determine how many voices he hears in his head.
He also has a voice line -with Nikto himself speaking, not any other personalities or voices- that goes “all the voices are quiet, it's just me now”, so it is possible that in the rare moments that his head isn't being overwhelmed by other voices, Nikto is responsible for making the choices.
If he's hearing the voices, I'd say that the third known personality and the one that appears to be rather dominant is the one making the choices for him, as Nikto went through torture that left him mentally and physically scarred, and dissociates quite a lot as a result, so it's much easier on his damaged psyche to let a stronger personality born from the torture take control of his actions and choices.
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Monsters in the Dark | Nikto x Reader | Part 2
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Second chapter of the Cowboy!Nikto AU. Written from the POV of Nikto this time. A reminder once again that there's a prologue and "part 1" is only the first full chapter. The original cowboy AU is owned and created by @ghouljams.
A/N: I'm a day late on my estimation for when it would be done, but life decided to get me sick, busy with uni work, and put one of my legs completely out of action. I also realized about 3 husbandry manuals deep into my research that the chapter would be a bit too long if I included that much information. Instead, the info will be sprinkled in among the next few chapters.
Warnings: Sputnik being a silly girl.
Masterlist: CoD Masterlist
First | Prev | Next
The weather is downright miserable. While one might assume the worst weather would be torrential rain or unforgiving hail, Nikto is firmly of the belief that there’s nothing worse than a hot, sunny day. It’s hard enough to be constantly covered from head to toe, but to then add on the Texan sun beating down at its full strength? He’s certain he’ll be nothing more than a puddle of sweat by the end of the day.  
At least Sputnik seems to be enjoying the disgusting temperatures. She’s running around the front of the property, completely unfazed by the heat. She welcomes it, in fact, using it as the perfect excuse to paddle into the large dam for a cool swim at the day’s warmest.  
Her paws are caked with mud and grass, so much to her sadness she’s been barred from entering the house, forced to wait until she’s dried off and all the muck has fallen off of her paws. If she’s still dirty by the end of the day then a quick hosing down will be in order, but she’ll likely consider that a fun game too.  
For now, she’s content to lay stretched out on the porch, her side rapidly rising and falling as she pants.  
The weather isn’t the only thing that’s miserable, however. Nikto’s mood has been foul ever since his forced trip into town for new supplies. A certain hyena had decided that she was bored while her owner was away and had decided to chew a rather large hole in the wall of the shed.  
The hole was easily large enough for her to climb through and so, after having already spent most of the day hard at work, Nikto was forced to leave for the only hardware store in town. Some new planks of wood and a hammer not riddled with rust later, and he’s reminded of the invoice he received the vet clinic a few days prior and has also yet to pay for.  
He’s not quite sure what possessed him to go to the clinic in person, but he was disappointed regardless with what greeted him. The receptionist was painfully cheery and seemed determined to dig into his business with her endless questions. He’d left feeling completely drained from only a single conversation with the woman. You hadn’t been there. He can’t fathom why that annoys him so much.  
The hole in the shed was simple enough to fix, even under the intensity of the sweltering heat, but the issue of Sputnik remains.  
Clearly, he can’t leave her unattended for several hours at a time just for work. She’s never had to entertain herself in such an environment and clearly, it’s stressing her out being without her only packmate. She requires both social interaction and physical activity, but above all of that, needs mental stimulation.  
Like a toddler left without a guardian, Sputnik has decided that she can tear apart the house and garden while unattended. Plants have been torn out of the ground, wooden structures gnawed to bits, and most concerningly, large holes dug along the fence line.  
The situation is far from ideal, but Nikto does not abandon his own. He isn’t like those bastards at the CIA who are willing to leave those loyal to them knowing full well they will perish without help. He made that decision a long time ago, and Sputnik’s very name is a tribute to that.  
It was only three years ago, but it felt like eons. It started with a small enemy group hidden deep within the South African wilderness who were utilising spotted hyenas as guard animals. Nikto and his team had cut through the animals both outside and inside the building, even the ones hidden away in the basement below. 
In the end, only a single cub remained; a tiny girl still nestled up against the steadily cooling body of her mother. She couldn’t have been more than a week or two of age, bright eyed as all hyena newborns are, and covered in scraggly fur.  
The other men on the team planned on putting the animal out of her misery, but the sight gave Nikto pause. She was small and defenceless, and abandoned by her cowardly handlers to be killed by their enemy. It was a story he couldn’t help but find familiar. Picking up the infant, she snuggles into his vest, completely trusting of him despite not having known him for more than a few seconds.  
She whines and licks at him as he tucks her into his shirt, safe and warm pressed up against scarred skin. No one says a word, when he leaves the compound with the cub and boards the waiting helicopter for the trip back to base.  
His first thought was to name her Laika, but that name seemed a little too common for his taste, and so he chose Sputnik, the name of Laika’s space capsule and eventual tomb. A tribute to yet another stray who was left behind by those who should have protected her.  
Sputnik would not suffer the same fate; she would never be disregarded like a broken toy thrown into the trash. She’s good, she’s loyal, she trusts Nikto unconditionally. Destroying a bit of property would never be a reason to break that trust.  
Instead, he presses dial on your number and holds his phone to his ear. He’s been thinking it over for several minutes, finger hovering over the button with your contact listed, before forcing himself to press it. For a long while it rings and he’s about to give up when you finally answer with a bright greeting to whoever is on the other side.  
He grunts out your name, listening as you happily chirp his own back at him in return. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” you ask. He can hear the soft rumbling of a car’s engine in the background and can only assume you’re driving somewhere.  
“I require... assistance,” he says after a long pause, letting the conversation drift into silence. While it isn’t necessarily help he’s asking for, it still rankles deeply that he isn’t solving the issue alone. He despises being indebted to anyone for anything, but for some reason he doesn’t get the feeling you’re out to acquire favours from anyone. You’re a professional merely doing what you’re trained for and nothing more. He can admire that.  
“What can I help you with? Is Sputnik alright?” You sound so genuinely concerned about her, so much so that it sounds like you almost drop your phone.  
He glances down at the hyena laying happily at his feet, panting up at him with a broad grin. “She is fine,” he confirms, catching the relieved sigh you let out, “it is behavioural issues she is dealing with.”  
You make a soft sound, clearly intrigued, “well, I’m on the road at the moment heading toward my next appointment, but I should have time to drop in to your place in a few hours. Will you be around then?”  
“да,” he hums, “we will be here.”  
“Perfect! I’ll be there in a few,” you confirm, and after offering an acknowledging grunt, he ends the call.  
He goes to pocket the phone but pauses, glancing at your number. Mulling it over for a good long while, he selects the number and adds it to his contacts. There’s only two other people there, one of them his current workplace and the other one of his old acquaintances from before even his time in KorTac.  
A rather dramatic huff from Sputnik draws his attention from staring at his phone, and he watches her with hidden amusement as she rolls over onto her stomach. She looks up at him with big, sad eyes and a pathetic whine. When he merely rolls his eyes at her she playfully snaps her teeth in his direction.  
“Я не знал, что ты такая королева драмы,” he growls back, curling the undamaged part of his lip at her.  
The hyena, fortunately, can tell he’s still joking despite his deadpan tone and leaps to her feet with a delighted cackle. She shakes out her coat, biting at the air. The moment he so much as twitches a finger in her direction she turns and leaps off the top of the deck, forgoing the stairs so she can sprint across the yard.  
Nikto stands from his chair but doesn’t give chase, watching as the crazy animal spins around in circles before darting off toward the dam again. She dives into the water with a splash, sending muddy water in all directions. He cringes slightly at the sight of the hyena now dripping with muck. At least he was already planning on hosing her down. The rest of the afternoon passes slowly, with Nikto taking some time to rest while Sputnik causes minimal trouble.  
When your car finally does pull up, the poor girl has exhausted herself again, laying in a pile of leaves while she happily naps away. The moment her flicking ears pick up the sound of your truck on the gravel she jumps up again, eyes wide as she takes in the familiar sight. She’s already giggling to herself with excitement, looking between Nikto and your vehicle.  
“место!” Nikto calls, ignoring the sad whimper that earns. He approaches when you pull up, patiently waiting as you drop out of the front seat and close the door behind you.  
When you spot him, you offer a wave and grin, “hey, Nikto!” You take a moment to glance over at Sputnik and he can see her near enough vibrating with how excited she is to come over and greet you out of the corner of her eye. “How’ve you been doing?” you stop just before him, looking him right in the eye, completely unfazed by the monster you’re facing down.  
“We are fine,” he says, perhaps a little too firmly given the way you blink at him, “we require some assistance with behavioural issues.” He quickly amends his statement in the hopes of not immediately scaring you off.  
Fortunately, you’re quick to bounce back, a smile returning to your face, “of course, what sorts of problems are you experiencing?”  
“Спутник!” The hyena’s head shoots up upon hearing her name, “ко мне!” She sprints across the grass, very nearly crashing into his legs with her enthusiasm to heed her owner’s command. “She is getting bored when left alone,” he explains, watching as you reach your hand out for the hyena, “eating walls, digging holes, breaking everything she can reach.”  
Sputnik snuffles at your hand, before whining and immediately shifting to lean up against you, demanding pets. You scratch behind her neck and Sputnik’s tongue lolls out of her mouth in delight. “I’m sure we can work something out to help prevent her from damaging anything else or accidentally eating something she shouldn’t be.”  
“She struggles when left alone, especially during work hours,” he adds on, turning and starting to stalk toward the side of the house where the majority of the damage can be seen.  
“Okay, well she sounds like she just needs some enrichment to keep her occupied while you’re away,” you nod to yourself as you follow Nikto around to the side of the house. Several of the small plants that had been happily growing in little spots around the yard have been either pulled from the soil or completely shredded if they couldn’t be moved.  
You look at the scattered remains of the poor shed’s wall, but don’t look entirely surprised by the backyard warzone you’ve stepped into. You frown down at Sputnik, scratching her between the ears, “what a silly girl,” you coo, rubbing at her ears as the hyena grins up at you with half-lidded eyes, “you shouldn’t be eating all this stuff, it’ll make your tummy sore!” 
Somehow, your baby-talk voice just serves to make Sputnik even giddier, and she eagerly licks at the tips of your fingers. Nikto almost rolls his eyes at the little heart eyes the animal is subjecting you to. It’s impressive, really, how she can remember someone is a friend from only a single interaction.  
When you snap back from your babying of the animal, you quickly refocus. “Hyenas have very powerful jaws, and they love to chew things, so if she doesn’t have enough to keep her entertained then she’ll find something to destroy.”  
“She was given an old tyre a few weeks ago, but it only lasted a few days.” To say he was deeply unimpressed with how quickly she’d torn it to pieces would be an understatement. He knew that Sputnik had quite the bite on her, but to chomp through nine millimetres of rubber like it’s cardboard? Impressive, if a little annoying.  
“How big is your freezer?” you abruptly ask him, and Nikto suddenly worries where this line of questioning is going. Does he need to check the trunk of your car? Regardless, he offers you a nod.  
“Perfect!” You clap your hands together, making Sputnik jump excitedly at the sudden sound, “it’s supposed to be quite hot tomorrow, so I can think of at least one idea for her.” You start listing out what the two of you are going to do rapid-fire with the same confidence and efficiency of any commanding officer.  
You’re in your element, your passion for your work clear as day and you have him following your every instruction. You’re like a fount of knowledge when it comes to anything and everything husbandry related, suggesting changes to Sputnik’s diet, new toys to keep her entertained, and ways to prevent her from destroying anything she really shouldn’t be messing with.  
When you finally end up leaving, it’s long past sundown. Sputnik has grown bored of watching the two of you working in the shed and has retired to her massive dog bed for a nap, so the two of you have been working in comfortable silence. He’s glad you don’t feel the need to fill the air with irritating chatter, only offering corrections here and there.  
He escorts you to back to your truck, closing your door behind you once you’re settled comfortably into the driver’s seat. You roll down the window and offer him a grin, but he can see just how tired you are given how your eyes are slightly drooped. “How much do we owe?” he asks, quickly tearing his gaze from your sweet smile.  
Little wrinkles appear across your forehead as your lips turn downward, an innocent, confused look on your face, “owe you?” 
He resists the urge to roll his eyes and instead just huffs in mild amusement, “payment, for your work.” 
Your eyes light up in understanding and you laugh, “oh, no, don’t worry about that,” you wave him off, “I’m just happy to help out.” You just smile up at him, as if you can’t see anything wrong with what you just said.  
Nikto is forced to remind himself that you’re a civilian, not another untrustworthy operator. Not everyone does things purely for the pay they’ll be rewarded with, even if the very thought of not giving you something in return makes him uncomfortable. He holds his hand out to you, “phone.”  
You blink at him for a second, but quickly do as you’re told, just like the good girl you are. He goes into your contacts and adds his number and details, hitting save the moment he’s done. He doesn’t bother adding a picture, passing your phone back to you, “call us when you require assistance.” He waits until you offer him a nod before he steps back from the side of the car.  
You have an odd, flustered look on your face for some reason, but you’re quick to snap out of whatever daze you're in and give him a quick wave as you put your truck into reverse. He watches silently as you disappear back down the driveway and into the steadily darkening evening, waiting until you’re out of sight.  
Sputnik is absolutely delighted the following morning when Nikto presents her with her blood and peanut butter ice block.
-
Translations
“да,” - “Yes” 
“Я не знал, что ты такая королева драмы,” - “I didn't know you were such a drama queen,”  
“место!” - “Stay!” 
“Спутник!” - “Sputnik!” 
“ко мне!” - “Come!”  
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FUCK WHY IS THE BUTTONS FOR HARVEST AND RESCUE DIFFERENT BETWEEN BIOSHOCK 1 AND 2 I JUST HARVESTED A LITTLE SISTER BY ACCIDENT I'M SO SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN TO I WILL NEVER FORGIVE MYSELF
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Some of my actual headcanons for how c!Techno's wears his hair, from more common to less common:
simple braid for casual everyday wear, because it stays out of his face and is neat without taking long to style
loose hair for lazy days when he's inside a lot
bun for in the arena or anywhere he knows he's going into battle. The bun is probably messy BUT very secured. Nothing for enemies to grab and doesn't obscure vision while fighting. Also fits under a helmet.
ponytail when he's in a hurry, again mostly for fighting or working
more intricate braids, usually for casual wear when he feels like it OR when somebody else does his hair (mostly Phil). Techno has several braided styles he uses for hibernation, because they're comfortable to sleep in but prevent him from waking up with a dozen knots
half up half down styles for when he's making an effort (special events) or when he's really bored. Or again, when somebody else does his hair (Niki likes doing his hair half up, half down)
(The more intricate braids and the half up half down styles come with hair jewelry of course!)
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Theseus Syndrome
100% synchronicity is, as far as science is concerned, impossible. A human mind cannot fully interface with an exosuit, at least not in the way that autonomous drones or combat dolls can. Even combat dolls take mental strain due to their semi-organic nature, hovering at a synchronicity of around 97-98%. But a human mind already has the tax of inhabiting their own body at all times, as well as the extra mental strain of piloting an entire exosuit on top of that, augmented by the billions of microscopic nanofilaments that bind the pilot’s jack socket to the suit.
But there are stories. Whispers on the wind that haunt the fronts of those who have gone full-sync. It’s become a term for insane or reckless, “full-sync”. That kind of intense information overload can short circuit machines designed for war, what in the hell could it do to a human being?
If the stories are to believed, it starts in the connection. A human exosuit pilot’s jack socket is designed with two primary goals in mind: to facilitate the link between the mind and the machine, and to automatically inject necessary medications to keep the body – and specifically the brain – going for as long as possible for the exosuit to do its job. This is a very efficient means of keeping the soldier going; as long as you’re in your suit, protected by fourteen inches of solid steel, you’ll be protected and healed, over and over.
But the kind of strain a link can put on a brain is not strictly internal. It isn’t a simple overload of the synapses, like some sort of barbaric AR virus designed to incapacitate. The jack socket connects your mind literally to the exosuit. Physically. The link is direct, and the electronic impulses from one to the other are a physical relay between the two. And when those impulses push back, damage can be sustained. Physical, tangible damage to the human brain.
Historically, the first exosuit pilot was a man named Charles Phillip Desere. Pictures of the aftermath are often passed around anti-Imperium circles as propaganda, and amongst those seeking to become exosuit pilots so that they understand what kind of life they’re choosing to lead. It’s too gruesome to describe in detail.
 Modern links prevent that level of carnage, but the damage can still be critical to a human body. Limiters are in place to keep that damage from becoming lethal, but what if it isn’t sustained? What if you only peak out at 100% synchronicity sometimes, teasing that level of connection and pulling back in an attempt to undo the damage? Edging your mind to the point of complete collapse before breaching the surface for air?
As far as science is concerned, the practice is, in fact, lethal. You do die during the process. The thing that comes out the other side, however, has been described in pilot ghost stories as “Theseus Syndrome”. The thing on the other side looks like you. It acts like you, sometimes, too. Occasionally over comms, pilots have reported hearing the voices of long deceased pilots, calling their lovers names in anguish or singing their favorite songs.
The jack socket, you see, repairs the damage. No matter the depth. So long as the brain is intact – even some of it – it will repair. A busy little computer, with no real discretion of where you end and where the repairs begin, a process of chemicals and drugs… and nanobots. Nanobots within the filament are occasionally required for the extensive damage, and once more than 50% of your body is made up that synthetic, nanobot flesh… well, that’s You now, isn’t it? The jack socket sees the organic parts of you and sees only a pulsing wound made of aberrant flesh. A tumor to be removed, replaced with perfect machines.
Cell by cell, it breaks you down, rebuilding you in the shape of a perfect pilot. The same as you were, rebuilt. Some say you wouldn’t even notice until your brain begins to go, and your thoughts are strange and different, escaping you like sand between your fingers, the only things remaining being orders from command. To fight. To kill. You watch your own brain being rebuilt and can’t do anything about it. Your last thoughts are of how your thoughts will soon be gone.
And then, the thing on the other side takes over.
Only one person has ever allegedly been recovered after undergoing Theseus Syndrome, and even then documents are classified, redacted to hell, and repeated by the same people who have incredibly unbelievable conspiracy theories, the “Puppet Empress” crowd. She was barely recovered at all, the nanobots within the filament having long since run out, the self-proliferating machines having lost the ability to create more. When her exosuit was taken down, and the cockpit pried open, she was more machine than woman. A smoking carcass with an exposed skull, oil dripping from open wounds and organs made from half-ossified parts salvaged from others.
And she was still fighting. Lashing out with teeth and claws and screaming and snarling and gnashing. Some say she begged them to kill her, others say that she spoke of the incredible pain she was under, some that she whispered that she was afraid.
 Some, however, go a step further. Her body was recovered but she wasn’t burned. A single nanobot from an Imperial recovery agent managed to reach her body, restarting the process and rebuilding her body. They say that she reconstituted before their eyes, killing them all in a bloody haze, and got back into her exosuit to stalk back out onto the battlefield.
They say she’s still down there, on Vespera-4. The ghost in the machine. They say that on quiet nights, if a pilot tunes into the right comm channel and points it in the right direction, they can hear her humming softly to herself, whispering about how beautiful she is and how wonderful it was to be reborn.
They also say if you stay tuned in for long enough, she can hear you too.
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Simon 'Ghost' Riley in CALL OF DUTY: MODERN WARFARE II (2022)
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