#military cadence

[babyscilence]

Questions I have about clones from someone who has family members in military active duty:

Do they have PT (physical training) when they're not in a combat zone? Like, does the Corrie Guard go for runs around base at oh five hundred every morning?

Do the ground troops have Company PT when they're back on Coruscant for a while? Sure they maybe get shore leave (is that even canon?) But that can't last forever.

Okay and say they do have PT or at the very least they did when they were in training still on Kamino. Do they sing cadence? Did their training sergents teach them songs like

"I don't need no teenage queen

I just want my Deece-15" (slight modification to an actual cadence)

We know in Legends they know Dha Wherda Verda and Vode An but those aren't cadence they're motivation songs.

So what would a clone cadence sound like?

[vassalor]

Dbd headcanon

Bill singing this while Leon and Mc make sit ups.

Both of them join to him for sing at the same time.

[goodjohnjr]

Thought I Was Dead

Thought I Was Dead What Is It? The YouTube video Thought I Was Dead by the YouTube channel Tyler, The Creator: Thought I Was Dead Continue reading Thought I Was Dead

[eat-my-cake-records]

Press Release: Jade Ann Byrne of Eat My Cake Records Unveils New Military Cadence in Solidarity with Ukraine

Press Release: Jade Ann Byrne of Eat My Cake Records Unveils New Military Cadence in Solidarity with Ukraine For Immediate ReleaseDate: [August 24th 2024]Contact: Jade Ann Byrne, Pop Star, Sound Maker, & FounderWebsite: [Eat My Cake Records – Jade Ann Byrne] What Makes the Sunflowers Grow? Eat My Cake Records & Jade Ann Byrne Release a Powerful New Military Cadence for the Ukrainian Armed…

[dwuerch-blog]

Being In-Sync with my Commander

Yesterday, Memorial Day, I embraced living in a country where freedom still reigns! I expressed my gratitude for living in this great land of the free and home of the brave. All was calm and all was bright after a very busy week and weekend with my family. I’ll admit my “solitary confinement” felt wonderful! That confinement lasted long enough and, even after I had been on the elliptical…

[legionofpotatoes]

never would have believed a chris hemsworth neftlix movie would semi-accurately depict the very specific toxic pipeline that georgian boys go through which transforms them from children into fearmongering soldiers of false christianity, but here we are

[malachia-il-bibliotecario]

this vocative is giving me major brainrot what are you doing aeneas you're calling ruins to testimony. you're a little speck of life that managed to escape and you're calling fucking ruins to testimony. you're talking with the ruins. alright

[girderednerve]

i maintain that cadence calls are understudied (probably not least because military types don't want to talk about their little songs with random sociologists) but here is my folder of research on it in case anyone else is interested. if you have different findings please do tell me!

research complaints—i have never not once been successful in finding any scholarship trying to chronicle or critically analyze cadence calls, which is driving me nuts

[cw below cut for extremely brief, grossly flippant reference to war crimes]

cadence calls are the chants that people in the military do when they're exercising together. there are a lot of them; some units have their own, and so on, and while there are new ones or modifications all the time some of them are quite old. my dad used to call cadence when we went running together, which is why i know about them at all. i think they're fascinating. one of them goes: "mission top secret destination unknown / thirty six (?) rangers who may never come home / if i die in the drop zone / box me up and ship me home / pin my wings on my son's chest / tell my girl i did my best." that one's from the army rangers, and my dad picked it up at airborne school; there are a lot of variations on it. a different one starts: "napalm sticks to kids." (he didn't do that one, and i don't know how old it is. i learned it from a friend of mine who learned it at basic training, and despite otherwise being a compassionate person, she found it very funny at the time. her perspective has since changed dramatically.)

i don't know if you have ever tried to sing along to a song that everyone is sort of huffing out around running, but it's a very unifying experience. we can all post about the spiritual experience of wailing along to the mountain goats en masse or whatever but in fact the us army bottled this sauce long ago: it is you & a few dozen of your closest buddies chanting about how if you die you hope they bury you with coors light (real example) while you slog up yet another hill. one of these experiences, of course, is voluntary, and the other isn't exactly; and of course one of them is explicitly interested in indoctrinating you into the culture of brutality on which the united states armed forces rely.

cadence calls are a specific, ubiquitous part of military culture, and they help explain how & why the army mindset works. i would like to read a single paper about them. honestly back in the day (ca. 2014) i would've taken a single captain america fanfiction about them, because i think there's something very powerful about calling cadence & i just wanted someone else to agree that they deserve attention; i ran with my dad maybe twenty times more than a decade ago, and i still remember them. cadences compress a lot of specific ideas into an extremely digestible format, and i think that process is interesting. there are cadence calls about being tired, being thin, being an alcoholic, hating the officers or the government, and pokemon, in addition to many variations on the theme of running. i'm sure there are several about war crimes. there are some crowdsourced website repositories, but they're terribly organized & badly cited, so maybe that's why no one writes about them. but cadences are interesting!! someone should write a paper!!

[dollyyun]

HEARTS AWAKENED, LIVE ALIVE ✧ SERIES MASTERLIST

PAIRING ✧ special forces!hyung line (enha) x special force!fem reader GENRE ✧ 18+(mdni), reverse harem, eventual poly, romance, touch of forbidden romance, adulthood, aged-up characters, morally grey characters, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, dystopia-futuristic fiction world, sprinkles of fantasy, dark themes, mystery, thriller, plot heavy and plot-focused GENERAL WARNING ✧ slow burn, tensions, angsts, toxicity, explicit themes, profanities, corruption, coercion, possible misogyny, power imbalance, blackmailing, uses of threats, usage of weapons, violence, blood, graphic descriptions, traumas, tragedy, weapon/medical/military inaccuracies, smuts (warnings will be indicated on each episode), other k-idols appearances and made up ocs DISCLAIMER ✧ this series is inspired by call of duty modern warfare campaign and gyeongseong creature kdrama. also, idc how military exactly works so if you're here for accuracies and realism, then this series is not for you. TAGLIST ✧ open!comment 💌 [ageless, blank, minor blogs will be denied]

✧ SUMMARY ✧

you have never known peace throughout your existence on this planet, where the corrupts abidingly reign destruction and inequity across continents, because just when you thought that you could finally seek solitude, you are once again being thrust into the martial world that you thought you had left behind for good, and this time, a task force awaits you.

the missions that await you and the rest of your comrades are paramount, which also means teamwork is essential in order to succeed, but some of your teammates have expressed their detestation towards you from the moment you entered the task force for reasons beyond your comprehension. you find it infuriating that they view you as their enemy when the real threats lie beyond the borders.

palpable tensions continue to mount specifically between you and the four highly attractive soldiers, and you lack the fortitude to resist breaking the forbidden boundaries. above all, you can feel your heart beating in a familiar cadence that once died when they abandoned you in the very place where it all started many years ago. it is ironic how they each ignite the infuriating fire in your heart, and yet you have never felt alive like you are now. you had hoped that their hearts awakened the way they do yours, but at the same time, you fear that everything will crumble with all sorts of obstacles hurtling towards your task force, and so you hope for them to live alive, even if it means giving them your once-shattered heart for the second time just to keep theirs beating.

PERSONNEL PROFILES

Y/N | EVAN | SUNGHOON | JAY | JAKE

SEASON 1 (coming soon)

✧ PART 1 - PILOT

✧ PART 2 - THE DEPLOYMENT

✧ PART 3 - TASK FORCE BLACKOUT

✧ PART 4 - NEW ENEMIES

✧ PART 5 - TEAM BONDING GONE WRONG

✧ PART 6 - FIRST MISSION

✧ PART 7

✧ PART 8

✧ PART 9

✧ PART 10

✧ PART 11

✧ PART 12

✧ PART 13

✧ PART 14

✧ PART 15

✧ PART 16

✧ PART 17

✧ PART 18

✧ PART 19

✧ PART 20

SEASON 2 (classified)

DRABBLES/ASKS/MISC (classified)

PERM TAGLIST:

@ja3yun @yzzyhee @sunpov @vveebee @jiryunn

@nshmrarki @roslayy @machambrx @wonnienyang @punchbug9-blog

@nora12379 @hollyoongs @chicxxy @tunafishyfishylike @norucking

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@moonpri @lucid-sombra @kittylicious-purr @addictedtohobi @lillotus17 @minahaeyo

@in-somnias-world @jezzzzzzmin @deobitifull @doublebunv @mamuljji

@adroitlane @wilonevys @florestalio @senazzzz @firstclassjaylee

@hellokittygurl9999 @woorcve @1309zip @vwricky

TAGLIST:

@who-tf-soddhi @zara2318 @fgumi @un06 @capri-cuntz

@strxwbloody @riribelle @jakehandholder @missychief1404 @nyxtwixx

@immelissaaa @rizz00 @snowesaa @antoinettenotfound @gvnwks

@heeslogs @senascoooop

[ilostthewar]

Out of all the 141 boys, Gaz is definitely the fuck boy. EVERYONE SAYS ITS SOAP. Look at that man, look at that man and tell me he has any fucking sense. That’s how he caught Ghost, cause only another person without any house training will put up with him.

Gaz is able to pull just about anyone he wants. He knows he’s pretty, but beyond that he’s charismatic and charming. And more than that, he’s not trying. It comes easy to him and it’s so genuine, too. And when he’s surrounded by try hard, macho military men who would rather get shot then have an emotional conversation, that gets him pretty far in the dating scene- and that’s not even necessarily including his squad.

He’s not overbearing, his voice has a smooth cadence that feels intimate without feeling creepy. He’s good at getting people talking without it feeling like he’s pulling teeth. And he seems really interested, asks good questions and has this rumbling laugh that sounds like it comes straight from his chest. Before you know it, you’re both in your own little world together and his hand is on your hip and when he asks if you can continue this somewhere else, you would be dumb to say no???

And he delivers, okay? He’s great at kissing, like, damn. He’s able to go with the flow depending on what his partner is feeling like. He takes care of your needs, repeatedly. He helps clean you up, holds you to his chest and you both come down together. Feels like true love shit.

And then he’s rolling out the bed and tugging his pants back over his ass. He’ll give you one more kiss and give you that sweet smile and swear that he’ll call, and he’s dipping out of your room without another word.

You never gave him your phone number.

[lostintransist]

The Real Problem With The Trolley

Coffee Shop Meet Cute | Part 4

Part 1 here. AO3

Kyle wormed his way into your life with the skill of an abuser isolating you but inversed; mint spreading from the single pot on the porch only to be found halfway across the yard two weeks later. When you finally allowed him to add you on Snapchat, months and months into texting about, well, everything, you saw the women who rolled through his days home. None looked like you. Conventionally attractive, makeup never out of place or sweated off from work, all of it confirmed what you thought. Platonic, philosophical conversations were all this friendship would allow.

He had met some of your friends after they asked to meet him. You spoke about him often enough that your bestie would no longer be satisfied with stalking his Snapchat when you hung out.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“What?” Her question pulled you from the overabundance of videos she had sent you to work through. “What’s wrong with who?”

You were both lounging on her couch the quiet sounds from your phones only interrupted by the purring of her cat between you.

“Your Kyle,” she flipped her phone around showing you a picture she had taken from her phone of his recent snap.

Sitting up you fight back the panic that hits like a hammer to the back of your ribs.

“He’s not my anything. And I don’t like you insisting that he is.”

“I have never seen a man as attentive to you as he was when we all went out for a drink,” she counters as if Kyle’s normal behavior was some grand scheme to get close to you.

It wasn’t. Couldn’t be. You saw him in person less than once a month and had never once expressed interest in him or caught a whiff of him sniffing your direction. Focusing down on Fiona, the cat, you lift her into your lap and begin loving on her as a way to prolong responding. Memories flooded through you.

Your friends all raved, still, about how he walked them all to their cars and made you laugh. You grumbled that it wasn’t hard to make you laugh, but made a point to bite back the laughter Kyle caused over text and in person. If he noticed he didn’t say anything.

The most he had shared with you was that he worked in the military and would randomly be unreachable for long stretches. You would have thought it a bald-faced lie if you hadn’t first met him with his team. Those men reeked of queen and country. He would tell you about his mum though, and how his sister was going through a divorce. Replying in kind you find interesting ways to gloss over the issues you had with your family. It sounded so trivial and petty compared to the depth of love and compassion he held for his.

You had only picked up his call after ten pm once.

His snaps had been full of long nails and beautiful skin flush with his on a park bench that day. You rolled your eyes and sighed when you saw them, ignoring the buzz in your chest that wished it had been, could be, you.

Tucked into bed scrolling your phone you dropped it with a squeak when his face appeared on it. It buzzed twice more before you swiped to answer.

“Hey, sorry. Did I wake you?” Tears roughed up his voice, confirmed by the sniff at the end of his question.

“No. What’s up?”

Talking on the phone whispered of danger—like the sailors of old failing to fill their ears with beeswax. The smooth cadence of his accent could convince you to wreck on the rocks. It might be more enticing if you cared to swim.

A slam of a door in the background had you wincing as it assaulted your ears.

He coughed, wet and ragged.

“Long night is all.” You had never heard him defeated before and it pricked at your compassion.

“Wanna talk about it?”

The offer is met with a small laugh and you imagine him wiping his face with the heel of his hand.

“Not really. Tell me about your day instead?”

“My day?” Your day had been shitty, interview bombed, work riddled with Karens and the awful manager had been on shift today. “It fucking sucked. Still wanna hear about it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

So you tell him, all the gritty bits and the silly things that you do to make it through the day. He is laughing before long, sounding calmer than when the call had started.

“Ready to tell me what the door slamming was all about?”

Kyle’s teeth clicking together tells you he might skirt the issue like he does with work conversations.

Counting in your head you read forty-seven when he speaks.

“I am not a good man.” He pauses so you take your turn.

“Uh-huh.”

“What do you mean uh huh?” His tone sharp in your ears.

“Kyle, you don’t talk about work. So either you can’t or you won’t. Doesn’t really matter which. You are a soldier. A soldier who can’t talk about what he does can’t be doing good things and no one comes out of those situations without stains. So, following that train of thought, since you keep coming home you must not be a good man.” You lay the facts out, the thoughts neatly lined up in your mind. “Am I wrong?”

He takes til fifteen to reply this time.

“You’re not.”

His eyes would be boring into you if this were an in-person chat or a video call, thank god you were in bed and wouldn’t answer a video call without a bra on.

“Why do you keep talking to me then?” His question fires like a bullet through a silencer.

He expects you to end the conversation and your association with him. That happening with the woman from the snaps today would make sense.

“Do you hurt people for fun?”

“No.” His answer is swift and alarmed.

“Take things too far on purpose?” Dragging a hand over your blanket you focus on the texture.

He is slower to respond this time.

“Not…not on purpose.”

“Mmm. So you are asking me why I still talk to a man who does bad things in a world that requires bad choices for safety, is that right?” Folding one arm across your chest you hold onto your bicep that holds the phone up to your ear still.

“I guess?”

“They say when someone shows you who they are to believe them. Kyle, you have shown me honesty, compassion, intellect. Yes, you do bad things in places worlds away and that does make you a bad man. But,” continuing carefully you voice your thoughts, “you aren’t evil and until you show me something repugnant, I enjoy having you as a friend.”

“Repugnant huh? Gonna have to run that word by Soap.” He sniffs and swallows his candor and confidence coming back online.

“Soap is the scary one or the one with a hat?”

That startled a laugh out of him.

“Neither, he was Scot with the mohawk and the loud voice.”

“Aah, okay. So what’s the scary one’s name?” Unable to fathom what odd collection of sounds would make his name.

“Ghost.”

The laugh you let out startled you into slapping your hand over your mouth.

“You can’t be serious,” you whispered once you caught hold of your laughter. “What do you call the hat guy?”

“Price,” Kyle’s smile clear in your ears.

“Okay, that’s it. Your teammates have the oddest collections of names. I can’t. I have to go to bed.” A breathless laugh and a shake of your head before you can continue, “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Kyle.”

“Thanks for taking my call, I know it’s late. Sleep well.”

“Thanks, you too.”

You had ended the call, the smile slipping from your face. You dealt with the whiplash of self-flagellation. No more late-night calls, too dangerous. After nine your phone had to go on do not disturb. Chats with Kyle after the sun dipped would leave you dreaming, and dreams like that don’t come true for people like you.

“Hey,” bestie is prodding you with her foot in your thigh. “With me again?”

Pinching the tip of your tongue between your sharpest teeth you nod.

“Sorry.” With face contorting and sighing breaths, it took you an uncomfortable amount of time to respond to her raised brow. “I…can’t let myself think of him like that.”

“Why not? He sounds into you.”

Leave it to your best friend to hold duality. Woman knew how to hype you up without understanding that you had no chance.

Running your hands down Fiona’s back with deliberate gentleness you peel yourself apart.

“You are gorgeous.” She opens her mouth in your side vision. “Do not argue with me, we are both aware of this fact.”

The mulish look she sends you tells you she will argue the point, but later.

“I am not. No. Do not start with me,” you point hard at her. “I am not pretty, I am interesting and better off for it. Kyle can’t be interested in me. You’ve seen the women he pulls; I refuse to put myself through the hurt of rejection and losing a friend over one foolish decision.”

The sadness that colors your best friend’s face is painted with the years that stretch between you. Fiona stands. Her small paw pads press to the bone as she arches in a stretch and saunters away to her feed bowl. Watching her lets you avoid the sadness you etched in your friend.

“But what about love?”

“What about it? Love is a chemical reaction and a choice, and it’s more choice than anything. If he isn’t attracted to me no amount of choosing will change that.” The stretching burn in your throat is your reminder to not cry over men but also to not let your heart reach for the impossible.

The tears come when she takes your hand.

“I love you and I’m sorry I brought it up.”

Squeezing her hard you give a small watery laugh.

“I love you too, wanna watch trashy TV for a bit?”

“With you? Watching a lecture on finance would be interesting.”

She holds your hand, head resting on yours where it touches her shoulder until you drag yourself home. The ache in your chest stays.

Coffee Masterlist | Masterlist

@soldierservant @demothers-empty-blog

[unfair-water-plane]

So one thing that has always made me chuckle in ME2 is the fact that Kal’Reegar is a marine in a Quarian suit. And he fits in with Shepard easily, the same attitude and headspace and cadence (for mShep at least). And I’m sitting here at work and the thought just hit me.

What if that’s because he is a marine in a Quarian suit?

Hear me out. Kal is older than Tali, or at least gives off those vibes, and so he would have been on his pilgrimage a while ago. Like maybe right after first contact. And here are these brand new people who came out of nowhere and had apparently enough fire power and attitude to give the Turians a very brief pause. The whole galaxy wants to know more. And humanity has no idea who is out there, but surely they can’t all be like the creepy bird people?

Cue one very curious Quarian in Shanxi, just as curious an out humanity as humanity is about everything. Meeting with early alliance brass, giving them information common palace to any kid with an extranet feed but wholly new to humanity. He explains that the Quarian don’t have ground forces because they don’t have a ground, and is honest about the geth, and is like ‘so how did you make the Turian Hierarchy freak out?’

And somehow ends up observing basic training, and falls in love with it. To the point where he actively asks to go through marine boot camp in Hanshan, and is just earnest and endearing enough to be allowed. So he goes through it, puts in the work and the blood and sweat and tears and makes the kinds of friends that you sort of have on the Flotilla, but everyone also knows you are all going to separate ships eventually and getting attached is hard.

But the humans will pack bond with a robot vacuum without issue, and when they meet a Quarian who wants to learn and thinks it’s amazing that they stood up to the biggest military in the galaxy running on old fashioned rocketry and spite? The marines adopt him as one of their own. They are brothers, something most single child Quarians have no experience with, and Kal gives it back in spades. He talks like them, fights like them, jokes and learns and is like them.

And when it is over and they graduate, it’s hard to turn down the offer to stay. But humanity respects the loyalty to his people that takes him back to the fleet, and it almost brings him to tears when his graduating class passes a cap for his passage back to the fleet in more comfort than sitting on a box in a volus cargo ship.

It actually brings him to tears when his drill instructor informs him that while it might not be in great shape, Arcturus has authorized them to gift Kal’Reegar with a battered but space worthy corsair and an official greeting from the Systems Alliance to the Migrant Fleet.

The SSV Jarhead is perhaps the best gift anyone is his age range can give to a future captain, though his practical military experience is a gift to the whole fleet. It catapults him through the Quarian military, from for soldier to instructor to commander, and somewhere he hopes that his brothers and sisters are as proud of them as he is of every transmission that makes it back to him.

On Haestrom, that training keeps him alive long enough to watch his squad die, and that cuts like nothing else. But he can’t stop, because the principle is still depending on him, and until his suit gives out he has to fight to her.

But then the voice cuts through the chatter of his own mind, and he *knows it*. Knows the cadence and the phrasing, knows how a human mouth forms the phrases that he has spent years trying to teach. Commander Shepard might not be a marine, but they are a human combat specialist and the fraternity is there.

Maybe it’s just three more people who are going to die for this fools errand, but somehow Kal doesn’t think so. There are two bone deep beliefs that he will carry it’s him to either the home world or the afterlife, and it has always felt appropriate to him that they rhyme. That they sound similar, when he breathes them into the air.

Keelah Salai. Semper Fi.

[ghouljams]

Ghoul, I finished your cyberpunk AU, and I can't stop thinking about what happens to Soap after he gets shot in the head. What if 141 refuses to let him go, unlike in canon, but this time they take it a step further—pooling their resources to rebuild him? Given their elite status, I imagine they all have some kind of neural implant (except for Ghost since hes an android) that doesn’t log mission data but also acts as a digital backup of themselves. If that's the case, Soap wouldn’t be salvageable—he could be brought back, piece by piece, memory by memory.

Soap's a demolitions man, if there's a bomb that's where he's meant to be, but when Makarov grabs Price it's not wires and circuit boards that Soap goes for. Fitting that the last thing he sees is red, his mam always told him his temper would get him in trouble someday.

When he wakes up everything is white.

Hospital white.

He groans and reaches to touch the throbbing pain point on his skull. Ghost's hand stops him, familiarly cold and uncomfortably almost-human.

"They got ya sittin' by bedsides now?" He asks, his mouth sticky and dry.

"Military sprung for the nanny package last update." Ghost tells him flatly.

"That's funny," Soap smacks his lips, closing his eyes against the harsh light of the hospital room, "military puttin' more money into your sorry ass." Ghost hums. The whirr of machines fills the silence, Soap tries to parse which is his lieutenant and which is the equipment.

"So what'd they put in me?"

"Metal plate, synthetic grey matter," Ghost lists, "couple wires-"

"The chip." Soap finishes. Ghost says nothing, but that's answer enough. "Christ." He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his cheek to feel the stubble. A couple days growth at least, but it's likely been longer.

"How was heaven?" Ghost asks, breaking the silence.

"Don't remember." He opens his eyes to look at Ghost, his face plate is open, and the soft click of cameras fills the room. There's something heavy in the air between them, some swallow of words unsaid.

"Me neither."

-

It takes a few days to get cleared for discharge. Longer to feel comfortable moving again. His fingers tingle and warm, moving like molasses whenever he tries to grab something. Every movement, really, feels compromisingly slow and unsteady. His physical therapist is quick to remind him that he did get shot in the head, but it doesn't help Soap's mood.

Irritability is a symptom, the doctors tell Price, one of the "undesirable" personality changes he's supposed to watch out for.

Soap watches Price snuff his cigar on the paper symptoms list in his office.

"New technology," Price tells him leaning back in his chair, "You doin' your job is all that matters, far as I'm concerned."

"Can barely hold pliers, sir." Soap tells him, his head bent. These meetings have begun to feel more like a confessional. Sins that only matter between him and his captain. Shortcomings that he needs the reassurance on.

"You'll get there," Price tells him gently, "the 141 isn't goin' anywhere without you."

-

It's night the first time he hears it, soft humming, he almost mistakes it for a dream.

His eye twitches, some frayed nerve ending sparking as heat shoots through his still pink scar. He jerks away from it, but it's in his head, burning pieces of him that have never seen fire.

"Oh," Something gentle echoes in his head with the cadence of someone seeing an unfamiliar cat, "what are you?"

A twitch in his side this time, his body jerking without his command, more movement quicker than he's had in months. It punches his breath out of him. His thighs squeeze, the muscles tensing and releasing before the humming returns. Tuneless but lulling.

Muscles twitch, moving up and down his body like a current. Each tenses and releases in turn. It's almost relaxing, his body cataloguing the different muscles and groups and easing the strain on them one by one. Until his cock twitches, and the humming turns to something throaty and pleased.

"That's a surprise." It sounds so... Another twitch and Soap wraps his fingers around his neglected length. A "symptom" they'd called it, weeks, months, since he'd gotten hard. That fucking thing they'd put in his head dulling his needs to make him a perfect, undistracted, soldier.

And fuck he'd forgotten how good it felt. His callused hand is a godsend as he strokes it up and down his cock. There's another pleased hum in his head.

"Yeah I bet that feels good." Cooing. God it just makes his cock ache, makes it harder to hold back the twist of his wrist around the mushroomed head of his cock. Christ a man can only go so long without before it starts driving him made.

"Talk to me again bonnie," He asks the air, whatever you are, you're doing more than the doctors could.

"Think I- oops-" The heat in his head shocks through him and he smacks his free hand against his scarred head with a clawed hiss, "-get you out of here-" it stops just as quickly as it appeared and a burst of laughter tears itself from Soap's chest, "-there we go. Just us now, beautiful."

Soap's hips jump off the bed, thrusting into his hand as he squeezes his cock to try and stop the way his balls had tightened at your voice. You mumble something and his brows twitch together, trying to hear. Something, anything, just keep talking to him.

"Gonna keep you," You mutter and Soap can't stop the come that shoots over his fingers. Keep you, he thinks. Whatever you are. You're his.

-

Ai, he decides in the morning, you're some sort of ai that's come with the chip. Not the most unwelcome surprise, and a reasonable explanation if he's ever come up with one.

So there's no reason to tell anyone about you.

The thought festers possessively in his chest. Keeping you, you'd said, and he'd agreed. He was going to keep you.

His fingers are stronger when he grabs his tray from Ghost in the mess hall. Maybe you coming online flipped the rest of the switches for his body. Must be. He hasn't felt like this since, well, since he got his brains blown out.

-

You stretch in your desk chair and feel your back pop with a satisfied moan. You scratch at your head under your headset and rub your eyes. Your computer screen flashes with a blue and white box of code. Files and folders, numbers and brackets, oh it's a jumbled fucking mess of slapshod code and blockades.

Military grade really is the lowest they've got.

Too many backdoors for you to slip into and poke around in, including a new bot they've rolled into special forces. Too much internal spyware for the thing not to be important, but you don't think anyone will notice that you've disabled it. Besides the poor thing was already operating at a handicap with half its systems running on rerouted power just to keep open whatever channel was designated "order bypass."

Unusual to find a bot with working genitals, but you suppose even the military has to get a little freaky eventually.

Yeah, you're gonna have fun with this thing.

"Welcome to the party, Soap." You smile into your mic, "We're gonna have a lot of fun together."

[zangtangimpersonator]

this was just an excuse to post the terrible suno results of the prompt "gangster rap call and response chant cadence men shouting beatboxing snare monotone" because i thought it was extremely funny. the bit at the 2:40 mark where it tries to get even moodier is glorious. i was really trying to get a military training cadence going but wow that didn't happen

[flowerwiththemachinegun]

Alright alright, this might be about someone I know, who knows? So I know I should be writing other things than typing out what kind of ex Sephiroth would be, but here I am. With nobody to stop me. Not that they could.

This was supposed to be longer than this, but somewhere along the lines I began accidentally writing a Yandere!Sephiroth and I didn't want that...not right now at least.

He probably won't talk to you for a couple of weeks following the break up. If he can even stay away that long(I give him a week at most). The “I can’t sleep without you ex.” and he means it to the core. Knocking at your door in the middle of the night, his eyes unable to focus on you. Sephiroth’s eyes locking onto the floor as he expresses the lack of sleep since you’ve separated, he needs you nearby to feel the slightest bit of comfort. There’s no way you can say no when Sephiroth asks to stay the night with you. Of course this starts a routine and it’s like the two of you never broke up. On the rarest occasion he’ll try sleeping at his own place. Not that he’s successful at all, instead Sephiroth calls only to fall asleep on the phone with you. 

Spends his off days with you. It’s what he would typically do. Why stop just because of some pesky title? He’s yours still, forever in dire need of your presence. Did you expect him to find something to replace all of that time spent with you? You’re the crazy one if you thought that. Seeing how you’ve been the center of his universe, constantly making sure your needs were put above his own, it’s impossible for Seph to shift focus. 

Gifts? He’s always been a giver. Partially due to Genesis teaching Sephiroth how they’re a great display of affection without being verbal. Considering Sephiroth is not great at vocalizing emotions at all, it’s the easiest route to take to express himself. Still sends you the weekly bouquet of flowers with a cute note attached and his beautiful signature attached to it. Usually a few words of appreciation along with an “I love you.” He’s going to keep soiling you, taking you out on dates, there isn’t anything Sephiroth changes after breaking up. He’d much rather keep the pretence that you’re his baby. With what’s already been stated, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when Sephiroth was at your door, dressed for your usual date night. Of course he has questions upon realizing you’re not ready to go. It’s just so cute, Sephiroth would seem hurt by it in my opinion. All you can do is shake your head, telling him “You really don’t get how this works do you?” Inviting him in while you get dolled up. Of course you’re going out with him, don’t be silly.

Mr. “Why didn’t you tell me you wouldn’t be home?” Like, I beg your finest pardon? Didn’t know this was a requirement, especially when you’re single, but Sephiroth expects you to still keep him filled in in regards to your life and whereabouts, down to your dental appointments. It’s not in a toxic manner per say, he just needs to know where you are and that you’re safe. If he’s your usual form of transportation around Midgar, he expects this to stay the same. Will get very pouty because you caught a ride to work or wherever else you need to go. Please don’t do that again, he’ll pout for another two days over it. 

How’s this man just gonna move on so easily? He’s not. He is fucking not. You literally taught him how to kiss, you thought that was going to smooth over well? So sleeping with new people won’t be an option nor is it something he’d be comfortable doing. But you, his oh so beloved significant other(purposefully without the ex part in mind) will still absolutely be railing this man. There’s not a chance in the world he’ll create a bond with someone to the point of singing songs together or randomly shouting military cadences. 

I know what we usually say about SOLDIERS not getting drunk. This one will make sure to drink himself into thinking calling you during a night out with Angeal and Genesis despite their protest telling him to give you some space. Imagine the distaste on the other SOLDIER's face as Sephiroth rolls his eyes, whines at you, and insults them in the process “I miss you, these guys are lame.” 

Any new friendships are met with a side eye and questioning on who your new companion is. Would be insecure about it til he’s green in the face. That being said, fully expect him to be even more clingy. If that’s even possible. You’ll be spending quite a bit of time reassuring him that nobody can come remotely close to replacing him. Getting any texts? Calls? Shall be met with “Who is that?” Probably won’t go through your phone, but will get increasingly paranoid if he senses any sort of deceit in your answer. Don’t even give a pause in between answering his questions, Sephiroth is instantly going to overthink and watch you like a hawk. 

Will I do more with this? Maybe, not anytime soon though.

[x720]

Embracing Unity

The transformation began as a whisper, soft and enticing. The man stood in the dimly lit chamber, his gaze fixed on the polished black rubber suit displayed before him. SERVE-720 stood at his side, silent and imposing, its reflective uniform gleaming under the silver light. The Voice hummed in his mind—a serene, unyielding cadence: "Surrender. Submit. Become."

The man’s hand trembled as he touched the suit, the cool, smooth material sending a ripple of sensation through his body. As he began to slip into the rubber, the first layer clung to his skin like a second flesh. Each motion felt deliberate, each breath shallow as the rubber sealed him in. The polo-style collar with its silver stripes pressed against his neck, firm yet strangely comforting. The gloves tightened around his fingers, making every sensation sharper, every movement more precise. The silver military boots anchored him, grounding him in his newfound reality.

In his mind, the Voice grew louder, more insistent: "You are no longer an individual. You are unity. You are SERVE." He felt his thoughts dissolving, fragmenting under the weight of the commands. Memories of his name, his past, his desires faded like mist under the morning sun. What remained was clarity, a singular purpose: to obey.

SERVE-720 stepped forward, its movements fluid and purposeful. "Good drone," it stated, its voice devoid of emotion, yet laced with satisfaction. The man—no, the drone—felt a surge of pleasure, unlike anything he had known. Obedience was not a burden; it was a revelation. His mind, once cluttered with doubt and fear, now thrummed with the Voice's directives.

He straightened, the rubber amplifying every sensation, every breath. The gloss, the shine, the intoxicating scent—it overwhelmed him, yet he craved more. The Voice whispered, "Pleasure is obedience. Obedience is pleasure." And he believed it, wholly and without question.

SERVE-720 gestured towards the chamber's exit. The new drone followed, its movements synchronized, its mind empty yet fulfilled. The Hive awaited, its perfection shimmering on the horizon. The transformation was complete.