…So maybe he was lying a bit. He couldn’t be absolutely sure Sniper was awake, or even at home– but where the hell else would he be? Sniper usually left with the van, that was kind of the whole stupid point of living in a glorified closet on wheels in the first place. And he’d still shown up for today’s match earlier– Scout had seen a flash of him, before he’d squirreled himself away somewhere to throw jars at the BLUs and cackle about it like a discount Bond villain– so he couldn’t be far.
Oh no, not another WiP lmao.
This one IS gonna be a oneshot tho I swear.
*Dusts off this blog since it's been inactive for. Eons*
Oh also - new blog @wolfs-writing-den
Do you like werewolves? Do you like Assassin's Creed- specifically the 2014 masterpiece for the ps3, AC: Rogue? Have you ever wondered, man, can Shay "I make my own Luck" Cormac be any more of a Hot Mess™️? Are you of the opinion that Haytham Kenway needs a bit more 🌈 in his life?
If you've said oh worm yeah! to any of those, you've come to the right place.
I present: In the Winds that will Howl - the slightly angsty slightly gory, but still plenty fluffy, Shaytham AU where one (1) Irishman gets turned into a werewolf (summary below!)
Mumford and Son's Babel Album has me by the throat for this one, lads.
At 17, a drunken Shay Patrick Cormac is dragged out of the gutter by his childhood friend, Liam O'Brien, and thrust into the fledgling Colonial Brotherhood to become an Assassin.
At 19, on the heels of a mission failure that jeopardizes his place among the Assassins, Shay is nearly mauled to death by a wild animal in the woods. He falls into a coma, and wakes a month later to some- interesting developments.
At 20, a year on the dot after the attack... Shay suffers a horrific transformation under the unforgiving light of a cold full moon.
-
Or, how would AC: Rogue change if Shay gets turned into a werewolf? Featuring: some romance, some angst, and a great helping of sass curtesy of one temperamental Templar Grandmaster.
Fellas is it gay to be confused over why your ✨friend✨doesn’t seem to agree with your self-deprecation and then immediately try to reassure him that everything’s fine by ruining his carefully coiffed hair?
Had a really bad match on the hell-map that is Well a few days ago because we just. Could. Not. Get the last point.
...Then I wrote this yesterday and I don't THINK there's a correlation, but there might be causation lmao. Here's about 500~ words of Scout having a really bad day.
Mentions: all the horrible ways a merc can be sent to hell and back! Scout is having a great time!
“Hey man, what’s the hold up?? We been stuck here for 10 minutes or sumthin’-”
“Their truckie’s got a sentry up around that corner there, its been mowing us down before we can even take a shot at it–” Sniper wasn't looking at him, busy stuffing ammo in his pockets, but he sounded just as frustrated as Scout felt. At least he'd finally gotten some info he could work with, though! He rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles.
“I can deal with it–!"
“No, wait, Scout!”
Scout didn’t stick around to hear the end of what Snipes was shouting at him, he had a sentry to bust up and an Engie’s head to crack. He darted down the hall towards the last point, past Soldier rummaging through a health pack, under the arc of Demo’s stickies as he set up a trap– stirring up shouts and calls of alarm behind him. They could all take a breather if they needed it– he didn’t. He had a mission now, and he was gonna get rid of this one last stupid obstacle so they could all finally call it a day.
The rattling sounds of gunfire and explosive blasts got louder and louder, ringing in his ears to the pounding beat of his own measured breaths. Medic had followed Heavy and Pyro around to the other side to try and flank the BLUs, and Engie was up top in the rafters somewhere trying to get his own sentry up. He didn't care where Spy had gone- all that mattered was that the BLUs would be distracted. This was the perfect opportunity, and probably the only one they'd be getting. He paused only a second, long enough to flatten his back against the wall right at the edge of the hall and flick the barrels of his scattergun down to check the chamber.
Fully loaded. Check.
He sucked in a breath and tried to keep his hands steady, the rush of adrenaline making it feel like his bones were jittering under his flesh.
“Ya got this, ya absolute Legend. This’ll be a piece of cake.” No one was around to hear the promise, but that didn't matter.
Scout rounded the corner, and the whirr–beebeebeep of a sentry locking on pinged across his skull like spent cartridges from Heavy’s gun. He got a shot off, maybe- he thought he did– before a belt of bullets burned down his torso and sent him straight to Respawn.
But that was okay. He had this. He knew where the stupid thing was now. He’d seen a flash of it there, lil lights blinking in the shadows behind a stairwell like a pair of evil beady eyes. Perfection had to be fine tuned, sometimes.
He ran around the corner again, dodging the hand Demo shot out to pull him back. He had this. Who cared how many times he got–
–Shot–
He’d just keep… Fuck.
–Burned–
Coming back… He was so close.
–Blown up–
Again… He’d almost had it. Fuck, fuck!
–Shredded–
And Again… They’d moved the Sentry.
–Gunned down–
And Again… Fuck, it was fixed.
–Eviscerated–
And Again… Where was his team?
–Beheaded–
And Again…. He was doing this for them. So close, damn it!
Scout and Medic have a brief exchange before the former's intake physical examination, soon after he was hired.
TF2 Drabble? On my writing blog? Apparently more likely than I think!
This is an idea I had after chatting with a friend about A/B/O tropes. It doesn't actually directly mention any A/B/O things, and it is completely SFW. Honestly, I might make it a werewolf thing! lol, now that's a surprise (not). No idea where it came from. No idea why I'm into TF2 of all things right now. Title from the Depeche Mode song, Its No Good.
✨👻✨
“You can’t tell ‘em Doc. Right? Some personal info sharing bullshit, yeah? Ya can’t say by law.” Scout was vulnerable, forced to strip down to his boxers for his in-take physical that had come to a screeching halt before it had even had the chance to begin. He hated it, and hated it more whenever the Doc was eyeing him with those beady black eyes, like he was some kind of frog on a dissection table. For now though, the Medic simply scribbled something down on his note pad with a shake of the head. It had been difficult to pick apart his words from his thick German accent so far- and here again Scout had to really struggle to pay attention.
“Herr Scout, nothing leaves my office by my own accord. Your condition,” the Doc waved his pen in the vague direction of Scout’s neck dismissively, and he lifted a hand to palm at his throat, index and thumb brushing along the raised bumps that trailed down the sides of his neck. Like two train tracks, starting faintly right under the corner of each jaw and running about a third of the way down to his collar bones. Faded with time sure, but noticeable. Especially without his turtle neck. He swallowed the lump that rose in his throat and had to consciously bring his hand down, rubbing at his collar instead. “-Is safe. However many here have… Ah, how would you say it?”
Scout couldn’t provide an answer, so he let the Medic mumble to himself, pen tapping against his chin. “–A keen nose? Keen senses Perhaps? Doch, that will do. I do not foresee that you will have much success hiding from them for long, Junge.”
“...y’think so, huh?”
“Yes.” Scout winced at the man’s tone and flat expression, quickly looking away. As if the question was stupid, and the answer obvious- and Scout was just here wasting his time entirely. He kept his eyes down at the papery stuff that had been rolled over the examination chair, pinned at the head and feet. Absently he picked at it with a finger nail, a foot tapping rapidly in thin air as his legs hung off the side of the chair. Well…
“Nahhh.” He huffed, pulling his grin into something sharp as he met the Medic’s eye and held his gaze with his chin jutted out stubbornly. “I bet I’ll be able to keep ‘em guessing. I’ve been in dicier sitch’s than this Doc. I can run circles ‘round the best of ‘em.”
Medic snorted and laughed. The exact candace of it was a bit too maniacal for Scout, and he downright refused to wonder if he’d just made a horrible mistake. It put him on edge, especially as the man moved.
“Bets are pointless and a waste of time, Herr Scout.” Medic stood, towering over him and his perch on the exam chair in just a couple of steps. The stupid little round glasses perched precariously on his nose glinted in the harsh fluorescents overhead, and for a brief moment Scout was looking up at a looming shadow with creepy white eyes. It wasn’t hard to imagine the metaphorical jaws of a beartrap rising up around him and clamping down with a crisp snap, and he fought to swallow with a mouth gone suddenly dry. “But in this case, if I were a betting man, Junge, I would say that the odds are not in your favour.”
“Now!” the Doc clapped his gloved hands once, and moved to pull the lever that flattened out the exam chair. Scout startled at the noise and jerked, not even trying to hide a yelp he would viciously deny later. “We shall continue on with this examination, ja? I do not have all day.”
After a rough full moon, Shay wakes up mid-change back - exactly where he shouldn’t be.
There’s some body horror elements, for bones breaking back into place etc. Nothing overly graphic 🐺
There was nothing quite as brutal as the first wicked crack of bone after a lengthy lapse in shifting. The soreness would linger, every joint stiffer, every breath aching. Shay would usually shake out his fur and stretch into a bow, waiting for the pain to ebb- but even then, it took a few hours of hunting before he was warmed up enough to feel truly settled again.
However, waking up in the midst of turning back was a close second on that list of unpleasantness. Getting dragged into consciousness as his ribs cracked and his spine straightened was disorienting enough - but never being able to tell where he was or who may be around to hear his strangled cries made it much worse. He was blind to his surroundings and trying to focus on his senses beyond the crunch of bone and the acrid copper of blood in his mouth was near-impossible. It was horrifying, as one so used to being hyper-aware, to be suddenly cut off from everything. Thankfully nothing had happened yet- but he’d had close calls. Waking too close to the farmer’s field, turning halfway through the forest as he tried to run back to the Morrigan- right by a supply camp. On one memorable occasion, having to wrangle his clothes back from a pack of raccoons after inadvertently picking a clearing too close to their den to stash his clothes the night before.
He dreaded the day he’d wake in a settlement, in a town- even New York itself, if he was truly cursed. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when.
And as some noise from the outside world started to trickle in past the sound of blood rushing through his temples - that cold dread washed over Shay all at once.
Someone was moving, too close, just out of sight. He thrashed and groaned, trying to call a warning- or maybe plea-
But then his hands tangled in fine sheets, and his shoulders snapped back into place with an almighty crack. His ears rang. Fingers worked in the fabric, a shadow of familiarity flashing across his mind. His chest worked slowly, wheezing every breath as he took in the comforting scent of parchment and pipesmoke.
It was disconcerting, he knew where he was and he definitely knew where he shouldn’t be. The discrepancy between the two boggled his mind and almost distracted him from the change until his knees popped. The white-hot flash of pain had him seeing stars, chest seized as he bit his tongue to try and strangle a sob.
It was only when a warm, calloused hand was placed over his forehead that he stilled, and forced out the air he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“Haytham…” the whisper was unintentional, and he’d have room to be embarrassed at such an informal address later- but for now, he’d take whatever comfort he could.
He really shouldn’t be in the Grandmaster’s quarters and he had absolutely no idea how he’d even gotten there… but the hand on his forehead had moved to gently scratch at his scalp, and Shay was powerless to do anything but go limp under the touch.
“Shhh, dear one. It’s early yet. Sleep.”
As the change wound down and left him utterly exhausted and achy… he obliged, letting his questions be. Haytham never moved from his station, and under the other’s tender attention, his eyes grew heavy. Reassured he was safe and yet undiscovered by the world at large, Shay had never so swiftly been lulled into a blissful sleep.
Welcome to my lil writing & arting corner of tumblr!
Lil Doodle Requests: Open! 💖 Guidelines Here!
Call me Agri/Wolf! | They/Them | 🔞 & 25+ | 🌈 | Will contain Mature & Suggestive Content | Eng/Fr & Always happy to chat!! Yell at me about fandom!
This is mostly to try and keep my writing motivation going, but you will also find a metric ton of fandom reblogs and my art! Other things to occasionally feature: doodles, dust bunnies, out-takes and half-coherent 3am thoughts.
I post on Ao3 - Here!
NSFW Art, but little else on Bluesky - @vegetariansadist.bsky.social
On-going Madnesses (and/or active tags):
#WolfsWritingAgain - Updates on my writing projects! May also include drabbles and one-shots
#WolfsRandomRamblings - This is where the 3am incoherencies go!
#WolfsDrawingAgain - All of my art and doodles!
#tf2 brain go brrrrrr - Wanna see my tf2 mutterings and whatever? They here!
Writing WiP Tags:
#Agris TF2 Snippets - Collection of TF2 snippets of past, present and soon to be!
#In the Winds that will Howl - AC Rogue, Shaytham, Werewolf AU
Read the Summary Here!
This is the Fic!
Multi-chapter, slow to update WiP
Related tags: #Werewolf Au | #Werewolf!Shay | #IWH Art
#Draganakin!Au - Star Wars, Obikin, Sith and Dragon Anakin AU!
Honestly nothing Here yet but soooooon...
✨More to come as it goes! Sow chaos and kindness and remember to stay hydrated Gremlins! ✨
