#halo point of light

[monitorchakas]

Painted by me in procreate

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A post shared by Paula Cristina Rodriguez 🐡 (@paulacrdesign)

[faecaptainofdreams]

Did a partial summary/big head canon for Point of Light! Just wanted to share here :)

https://www.deviantart.com/fae-captainofdreams/art/Point-of-Light-HEAD-CANON-part-1-1147140007

[superspunkus]

This is my purpose found. Bastion is mine.

I went looking for a gift, and I got one.

Are you ready, Reclaimer?

This is how my story begins...

[halo-smashorpass]

[odysseys-blood]

im never getting over how belphie just...yoinked beleth's halo. like the artifact says "given" but he very much did not give it 😭

i lowkey think it was to take some of the heat off of beleth for being a fallen angel and to keep others from being too loud about it but still he did it in the most goofy manner possible. (and smthn smthn a crown symbolizing protection for his people and its from the first person he wanted to keep safe personally)

[someone-inthebackground]

@memekeymouse

heres red diamond mouse, hes very sparkly and shiny

bonus black diamond and other thing

[belle--ofthebrawl]

Belle I mean this with only respect and genuine love and apologies if it's upsetting: every time you go off about religion and start reinventing heresies, I am taking a frontrow seat and making notes like it's my first day of college. You understand me, all your thoughts are better-articulated versions of my own, I am your most devoted disciple. Religious trauma gang <3

It's not upsetting at all. (Except the part where you put yourself down, stop doing that >:[)It's incredibly validating to have others understand what I'm talking about. My heart goes out to all of us who are suffering under this. A big struggle I've had for decades and continue to have is actually calling it abuse because so many times I've been told "It's so hard to raise a child, your mother was only doing was she could!". But we were never difficult kids. We just wanted to be heard and have our voices be respected when we said "No, I don't want this life." We deserved that much. It wasn't our fault.

Another Biblical story I'm thinking a lot about lately is the one of Abraham and Isaac. Where god tells Abraham to sacrifice his only son and Abraham goes to do it without question. His child. The one he and his wife prayed for, for so long. Laying on that stone slab as his father raised the knife. Choosing his god over his flesh and blood because Abraham couldn't even conceive of disobeying him. Isaac must have grown up hearing that story. How he was so wanted and so precious only to end up on the sacrificial altar anyway because this faceless god demanded it and his father put more value into that than his love for his only son.

I don't think god talks to Abraham again after he sends the angel to stop him. Do you think Sarah ever knew? Did Isaac ever tell her what Abraham was willing to do? Would she have been horrified or was she too, lost to this state of mind. I don't know. It's two thirty in the morning and I'm thinking about the cycle of abuse.

Thanks for letting me ramble, Mal. It will happen again. 🩵

[nekoprankster218]

Still slow in finishing Point of Light but I’ve reached the parts where they cover the Guardians and just that part in Lessa’s POV where it’s describing how watching all those aircraft suddenly fall from the mass EMP will stay in her nightmares? Cortana how the fuck did you think this was all gonna go?! Cortana why did you think this was gonna lead to galactic peace?!

[lanternlightss]

if we ever get nameless bard’s model, i really, really hope at one point we get him framed in the lighting like this (a call back to him surrounded by light in the boy and whirlwind? put upon a pedestal? or the bard, a guiding light from past...)

[turnandface]

continued from here (@ischaron)

Rian's sleep talk had mostly been murmurs. A soft word, spoken here or there as his bedfellow shifted and curled into his side. Not that Beau had been bothered. He found his mumbles soothing, but the soft words also managed to induce a kind of melancholy as he watched Rian, an arm around him. And he had watched him for a little while, his heartstrings twisted and wrung tight, but his head riding on for miles. This was probably nothing more than a one-night thing, but it wasn't often a man stayed after they spent the night together. Or let him stay, for that matter. Rian had, though, and it might have been the fact that he let him stay. Or how they'd stumbled back onto his bed after the door closed. Crushing their bodies together, filled with need. And it had been the night before, the drinks and shared stories that revealed them to be two sides of the same coin. Beau knew he wanted to see him again.

Now began a song and dance. And while Beau knew the words and the steps, each time, it seemed like it had been a long time since he'd done either. He could sing the wrong lyric, miss a beat, or start the chorus too early, and he could just as easily stumble over his feet or step out of time. He never fancied himself too smooth a talker, and he often wanted to linger.

Beau watches Rian carefully in the low light that slips in through the borders of the windows and underneath the curtains, a bedhead of black curls and a grin he can't help but smile back at. He can feel Rian's eyes on him when he asks his questions, and he shifts in the covers, nodding once at the first and his cheeks glowing a subtle rose at the second. "Nothin' particular… whispers under your breath." Last night, he was bolder; he might have teased, leaned back on his elbows, saying, "Come here, and I'll tell you," even if it was soft nothings.

"It's cute."

[call-me-the-candyman]

There exists two forces at work in the human soul: the idea of anarchy and the idea of law. These ideas are stabilized by the Damned King, Diabolos; and the God King, Joshua.

(Can any of you guess what inspired this image?)

[monitorchakas]

I was thinking since halo tv series sucked and halo legends was actually cool...

Why don't they make an anime series based on the Rion Forge trilogy I mean just look at how perfect for anime the story format is. It even has filler episodes where they do everyday stuff like laundry and an infamous beach episode!

Asfgdtdjjdyh I want a drawing of anime Ace of Spades crew pls

Im half joking. Also maybe one day I will draw this.

[faecaptainofdreams]

EYYYY!! We got Rion Forge, Ram Chalva, and Lessa and Niko! 🥰💖🌸

[dougielombax]

I wonder what Keeper-of-Tools is up to now.

After the whole Bastion thing and the Precursor reseeding.

[tojigasm]

Thinking about Logan fully smoking in the middle of fucking you.

He's got you laid out amongst his bedsheets, face warm and thighs spread, one leg resting on his shoulder as he rolls his hips into you.

You're a complete mess beneath him, and you struggle to concieve how he still seems so composed after pulling what feels like the third orgasm from you in the span of an hour and a half. The dark tufts of his hair are still pointed upwards, and his skin silky in a sheen of sweat.

"Y'still with me?" The rough of his voice pulls you from the foggy headspace, vision blurring slightly as you refocus on him, letting out a choked whine when the girth of him stretches you in just the right way.

You give a weak nod, "mhm," you twist your hand into his silk sheets, stretching the fabric downwards.

"Good girl."

Logan smirks above you, turning his head he keeps his eyes on yours as he presses a gentle kiss to your ankle.

You damn near cum at the swift contrast between his brutal thrusts to the softness in his touch. The action almost feels merciful.

And in the same moment you bask in the soft of it, you can feel Logan reach for the nightstand.

He moves back to stand between your thighs again, holding a cigar he'd left on the ashtray. Using his free hand, he readjusts you by the plush of your hip, pulling you further down the bed until your ass cheeks rest on the very edge.

Hand still twisted in the sheets, you pull them down along with you.

Your eyes settle on him as he blows a pillow of cloudy smoke past his lips, thick brows furrowing as he takes another inhale before blowing another cloud from between his teeth.

For a moment, you're captivated at the sight. The amber light from your shared bedroom in the mansion glows around him in almost halo-like essence.

He looks so beautiful.

"Y'so pretty, Lo," you whisper, smile evident in your tone.

He smirks down at you, rivets of smoke trailing in the air. A thick brow raises in tease.

"Oh, yeah?"

You nod, giggling as you pull the sheet over your mouth.

"Hey, don't twist the sheets." He scolds, unwinding your hand from the wrinkled fabric and placing the cigar back on the ashtray before slipping your other thigh over his arm before threading his fingers with your own "Hold on t'daddy, fr'me, yeah?"

You keen at that, choking on a gasp when his cock strokes the gummy walls of your cunt in a way that has tears bubbling over your cheeks.

You're passed overstimulated, legs trembling in his hold as he sinks to the hilt before twisting his hips.

"Oh!" You squeal, instantly grabbing ahold of him.

"There we go." Logan kisses the curve of your jaw as he rolls his hips into you.

He places soft kisses to your temple and down your face to your neck before licking a stripe up from your collarbone to the curve of your ear, chuckling when a line of goosebumps rise in wake.

"Gonna cum, Lo" you sob through a shiver, turning to press your head into his forearm.

He nods along with you, "I know." He cocks his head some, leaning down some, "Give daddy a kiss."

On command, you're leaning into him with what little strength you have left to sloppily meet his lips as your gummy walls tighten around his girth.

The two of you moan into one another's mouths and leave messy trails of drool along your chins as he fills you.

Logan waits a moment before slipping out of you gently before lying down against the headboard, helping to guide you to lay your back against his chest.

"Y'okay, kid?" He asks, running his knuckles down the side of your arm softly.

You nod against him and he grunts. You can feel him reach for the nightstand again before you hear the puff of the cigar.

A cloud of smoke circles to the side of the room.

He nudges you.

"Words." Is all he says, somewhat muffled by the cigar held in his mouth.

"M'okay." You say, turning your head upwards to meet his eyes.

Logan takes the cigar from his mouth, holding it between the fingers of his left hand.

His right hand comes up to cup your jaw, gently running the pad of his thumb over the skin of your jaw to your chin before he's leaning down and meeting your lips in a kiss.

He tastes like tobacco and smells of leather.

"Gonna let me take care of you?" He asks softly, still stroking the skin of your jaw.

And you know how he means it.

You nod.

[presidentsdaughter]

SOFTER, SOFTEST !

ft. curly x fem!reader

tags. piv, body worship sort of, rimming, big dick, tit job for like 2 seconds, creampie, size kink, scent kink, balls…

note. hai.. will get back to leon soon and I think mw fandom is lacking noncon and incest fics severely.. so i will get on that with jimmy. don’t know how to characterise him yet so ooc .. just infatuated with his breasts tbh i don’t know anything works in this universe LMFAO like idk just take this with a grain of salt.. for miss @pupwashing please ignore typos !! unedited :3

You miss Curly.

You miss him more than you did yesterday, more than an idiot misses the point, like a dick misses a wet pussy–You just miss him.

It has been four months. Twenty-one weeks. One-hundred and forty days. Three-thousand, five-hundred and twenty hours. Too many minutes, a hell of a lot more seconds, the closer he gets the further he seems to be.

Big numbers make it feel like you’re getting nowhere so you cut those twenty-fours into one day. One day and he’ll be home. One day and you’ll be in bed with his stomach crushed against yours, the warmth of his flesh searing yours, fucking him into next year, until he loses his halo.

Videos aren’t enough, photos don’t do him justice, toys don’t live up to the feel of a real dick. You miss that face he makes when he cums - it’s a block away from his crying face. You miss him face down, ass up, punching holes into his dignity one thrust at a time. God, you miss that dick, how he goes red all over, him in nothing but that stupid fucking smile.

One day, you tell yourself in the mirror that morning. One day, you tell yourself when you take your lunch break. One day, one more microwaved meal for one, one more lonely night.

It used to be a big deal, you think. The whole going to space thing. Curly says it’s no big deal, but you’re pretty sure that in your great-grandpa’s heyday it was impressive. You’ve seen videos of hoards gathering to watch a ship take off, to greet crews when they landed. Today, it’s you and a plump, older woman in her bathrobe waiting in the cold.

You could spot him in any crowd, glowing like a ray of light, mostly because he’s tall, partly because everything fades into abstraction when you notice how tight his uniform is. Good god. Did he get bigger? You’re starting to sweat, it’s hard to focus when your boyfriend is making a long-sleeved jumpsuit look naughty.

Curly’s hair is a little longer, blond curls licking the nape of his neck, falling onto his forehead, his eyes are so bright and his smile is white. He looks like a policeman’s emotional support dog. A really busty support dog. He scans the sad scattering of friends, family and drivers. You’re so taken off guard by the sight of his buttons popping you almost forget to wave at him.

He beams when you spot him, suitcase dragging behind him as he jogs over. Everything is in slow motion. Like that old movie - Baywatch. He’s so excited to see you, taking you into his big arms, shoving your face in his chest like he knows just where you’d like to be. You’re disappointed in your lungs when they beg for air, lifting your head and placing it on his shoulder instead. He smells like sweat, hotel shampoo and something metallic.

“Oh.” You open your eyes and spot Jimmy skulking behind him, an unlit cigarette between his lips. You narrow your eyes at him, and Jimmy does the same. Real shady guy, the type you’d cross the street to avoid. He’s always trailing after Curly like a bad omen. “He can’t come home with us, honey,” you tell him gently, not wanting to sound like a bitch.

Which you are.

You don’t want him smoking in your car, you don’t want Curly to invite him over for takeout because that means it’ll go on for hours and you won’t get your mouth on his big, stupid dick for another day.

“Hm? Why not?” Curly asks, pressing a kiss into your hairline, the tip of his nose bumping yours tenderly.

“I don’t have space in my car for both of you and the luggage, she’s small. What if she tips over? You’re heavy enough as it is.” You smile at him, cheekily, giving his newfound hips a squeeze. They’ve always been there, but now they’re like wow. It’s only been four months, is he on steroids? Did he get pregnant? He is glowing… God knows what’s up there in the atmosphere, some cosmic horror waiting to knock up your poor boyfriend.

Curly shrugs, offering an apologetic smile to his friend. “You heard the lady.”

Jimmy’s permanent scowl seems to deepen, cementing itself in his dermal layer. “Whatever, man.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, shoulders slumped as he makes a beeline for the phonebox.

He lifts his suitcase and loads it into your car and you watch his biceps flex. You see through his clothes, you remember every freckle on his back, mapping them out like stars, leading to those dimples low on his back, the perfect resting spot for your thumbs when you grab his ass. His body is so convenient. Like he was made to be fucked every which way.

“I missed you, I thought about you everyday,” he says against your lips, leaning in to kiss you over the gearshift. “I put your picture in the cockpit actually, Jim didn’t like it, but it kept me going.”

Always so earnest. You almost feel bad for missing his body more than him.

“Aww, Curly, honey,” you coo, pinching his cheek and cupping the other, “I missed you even more.” He nuzzles into your hand, eyes closed as you comb your fingers through his messy hair.

As much as you would like to indulge his sentimentality, you have no patience to spare. If you sit here any longer, you’re going to soak through your jeans and onto your leather seat.

You put the car in drive—

“Captain? Open up!” There’s a younger man knocking on the window, leaving his grubby handprints behind. “I wanted you to meet my mom!” His voice is muffled through the glass.

You lock the windows.

“Did you lock the windows?” Curly asks, lips downturned like he’s about to pout.

You unlock the windows.

“Of course not, baby.” You pat his head and grit your teeth.

They talk for fifteen whole minutes.

Thank you for taking care of him, he can be such a handful—Oh no, not at all, he was a joy to have—I’m glad he came back in one piece—He’s a good kid—Oh, I don’t know about that—Mooom—I’d be happy to have him back for our next long haul—Seriously, Captain?—

You squirm in place, shifting from side to side, thighs pressed together as your panties stick to your core. When Curly introduces you to his crew mate, you offer a strained smile and nothing more.

The window whirs shut. You make it home in record breaking time with four tickets and only a few points taken off your license. It doesn’t matter. You’re home, inside with the curtains drawn and Curly still has clothes on.

That’s not right.

“Take it off.”

“Huh?” Curly pushes his luggage into the corner, the top few buttons of his jumpsuit have come undone and you see the tuft of blond hair on his chest.

“Take it off, please?”

“My clothes?”

“No, your wig, baby.”

He laughs, good-natured, mild-mannered, and so fucking hot.

If he won’t do it then you will.

“I haven’t even showered—“ He starts, but you shush him with a kiss, murmuring a ‘good’ against his pink mouth.

When you part, spit keeps your lips connected, the string of fate or whatever. You go in for another, hands fisting the fabric of his collar, forcing him down towards you. Curly lets out a keening noise somewhere in the back of his throat like a dog scratching at the bathroom door.

“I know, my baby, I’ll give it to you.” You pout at him, thumbing his kiss-swollen lips and watching his eyes droop. “Oh no…” The buttons on his uniform when you try to open them.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles through a mouthful of his own spit, “cheap stuff.”

“I know, but you looked so good in it.” It’s a shame, but you need to see him bare, sweat as his only accessory.

“You think?” He near bats his lashes at you, stepping out of his uniform, and you swoon.

“God, yeah.” You push him down on the couch, Curly falls back with a soft grunt. It’s not very big, especially for a man of his size, but it’ll do for now.

His cock swells in his boxers, you feel it beneath you as you sit atop him, admiring the view below. The wide expanse of his chest, the sweat pooling in his collarbones, those tits. You don’t know what else they could be.

“Wow.” You take a handful of his chest, plucking his puffy pink nipple. “Look at these, I might have some competition.”

“Shut it,” he huffs out a laugh through his nose, and the tips of ears redden.

“I’m serious, baby, you’re, like, huge.” You can’t tear your eyes away from his soft flesh, moulding beneath your fingertips like dough, you could fuck them if you really wanted. “What happened out there?”

“Had a lot of spare time, I guess.” Curly smiles sheepishly, expression contorting when you bend your neck to suck his nipple into your mouth with a wet pop! His jaw slackens, and his cock jumps like it’s been given quite the fright.

You only have one complaint. His tan lines have faded. Floating through the galaxy for months on end can do that to you. You miss them, but you missed Curly more, so you’ll make do with what you have.

And you have more than enough. More than you can handle really. You can’t even get a grasp on his bicep, he’s stupidly big and your hand is on the smaller side.

You shift backwards, wet cunt dragging over his impossibly big bulge where only his underwear keeps you from him - you kind of admire your pussy for being able to take it. Your mouth moves on, hands still groping as much as you can of his chest as you lick the ridges of his stomach, it’s like he’s forged out of marble.

Softly, Curly rubs the back of your head, trying his very best to keep his eyes on you and not let them fall shut. You feel his stomach muscles rippling under your tongue. They contract when you trace around his navel, placing a sloppy kiss just below it, where a patch of curly hair leads to his wet cock.

His cock is drooling through the white fabric of his boxers, they’re soaked enough to be see-through, you spot the fat, pink head that has been missing your kisses. “You’re so wet, baby, is it all for me?”

With a pitiful noise, he tosses his head back and nods sadly. It’s funny to hear a man of his stature whine, but it suits Curly so well.

Your fingers hook in the waistband, tugging his underwear downwards until his fat cock springs out, it’s so fucking fat it weighs itself down. The leaky head twitches, pre dripping down his thick shaft, leaving a moonlit trail to his heavy balls. So full of seed they might burst.

“Oh… Poor baby.” You give them a gentle squeeze, and Curly’s eyes roll back into his skull, hips jolting upwards.

The urge to take it into your mouth right then and there is tempting, you hold back, you want to take your time with him. Make him feel special. You seat yourself between his thighs, one leg thrown over your shoulder so it’s easier to fit on the sofa. Your thumb runs along his pink slit, dribbling out pearly strands of pre that web between your fingers. Curly whimpers, biting down on his fist.

“These are cute.” You take note of his meaty thighs, how they’ve only gotten bigger, a comfier place to sit. The stretch marks don’t go unnoticed, streaking purple and pink along the milky flesh of his inner thighs like faded brushstrokes.

“Mmmph.” He blinks at you, pouty, lashes wet with impatient tears.

“Yeah, mmmph, I know, baby, be patient.” You’re a big, fat hypocrite.

His scent is stronger down here, clean and soapy, but the tang of sweat prospers, and the underlying smell of him. The smell of his pillow, the smell of his few-days old clothes, the smell of his towel after he works out.

A few more kisses here and there, using the flat of your tongue to lave over strips of his sinewy skin, leaving him spit-slicked and breathless and flushed. You hoist his other leg over your shoulder, he’s heavy, but you’re horny and it’s given you a sudden burst of vitality.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, gripping the top of the couch, one arm over his face as you lick up the seam of his balls, mouth latching to the swollen underside, where they feel heaviest.

Curly’s cock leaks into your hair, the weight brings it down to rest on your face, tip pressed into your hairline, dripping down the bridge of your nose like sweat while you make a mess of his balls. Stuffing them into your mouth one at a time, using your hand to give the lonelier one a squeeze when your lips are kissing up on another.

The kiss to his perineum is enough to make him moan. Curly knows what’s coming. You go lower, nose nestled into his balls, breathing him while your hands spread his ass cheeks apart to get to the spot you love most.

Curly’s hole is darker than the rest of him, not quite pink like his cock, ruddier. He’s tight and he smells good. So good. You’ve never minded the hair, you think it’s pretty cute. Curtains match the drapes.

Affectionately, you kiss his puffy rim, and it throbs.

He lets out a groan that is half mortified and half ready-to-blow-his-load.

“Sure,” Curly says, voice breaking as you circle his hole with the tip of your tongue. He tastes like him, musky and sweet and coppery. Curly is home and your tongue is in his ass where it belongs, wriggling its way past his pulsing rim, hopefully all the way up into his heart.

Your thumb and middle finger stretch to meet around the girth of his cock, stroking him slowly as you work open his asshole, tongue pushing back in when he pushes you out. Once you deem him wet enough, you push a single finger knuckle-deep and he cries out, hips bucking up off the couch.

Much to his dismay, which he shows in the form of a pained whimper, your hand leaves his cock to splay over his stomach and hold him down to the best of your abilities. “You have to stay still, honey.”

You feed a second finger into him, his hole squelching as you curl them inside of him. Curly clenches tight enough to cut off your blood circulation, sucking you back in when you ultimately pull them out with a lewd noise. He opens his mouth on instinct, pupils so blown out his light eyes seem dark, you push your fingers down his throat and he sucks.

“You’re so cute,” you mumble, watching him intently, he’s like a pin-up model of some sort. An X-rated action figure. “Taste good?”

“Not really,” Curly says. He’s so honest it makes you laugh. He shuffles back to rest his head on the arm of the couch, cock bobbing, still leaking like nobody’s business, leaving little droplets of wet in its wake.

It’s ready to burst, but you’re not done with him yet. You haven’t had your fill. When you spend half your time with your head between his thighs, you miss out on all the faces he pulls. So you spit on your tits to get them wet, his cock is slick enough, nothing should chafe when you squeeze his cock between them.

“Christ,” Curly grits out, brows knitting together, the second coming and he hasn’t even had his first.

“You wanna cum like this?” You ask, kneading your tits on either side of his cock, each time the tip pops up past your cleavage, it bumps your chin and leaves it slick.

“No…” He shakes his head, curls bouncing, sticking to his forehead, the hair near his nose is curlier with the added sweat. “Inside.”

“I can do that for you, babe.” You smile at him, acting like that wasn’t your plan in the first place, like you haven’t been dying for a warm creampie since he landed back on earth. You give the fat head of his dick one sloppy kiss, making sure to tongue his slit before you clamber on top of him.

It should be an easy task to get him inside, you’ve been wet for the last twenty-four hours, your pussy is throbbing like it’s got a heartbeat. Slick dries on your inner thighs and your clit is buzzing, a rush of arousal passes over you like a cold wave when you lift your hips to guide his dick into you.

Oh. Wow. That’s a stretch. 

In theory, you know big Curly’s dick is. It’s a fucking horsecock, and you have eyes bigger than your stomach. You always overestimate yourself. You think you’re gonna be just fine, then his fat tip breaches your little hole, no matter how wet, and you lose it, scrambling to grasp his shoulders as your body is racked with shivers.

Curly’s kind enough to steady you, big hands finding purchase on your hips. His needy noises get through to you, and you push on, sliding down and taking him to the hilt. His dick curves upwards into your cervix, rubbing the fleshy opening as you adjust to his dick after four whole months of nothing worthwhile.

He’s so big. You’re so wet, slippery pussy slicking up his cock, and making things easier for the both of you.

“I love you.” Curly shudders, looking right into your eyes like he’s afraid to blink and miss a single thing.

“I love you too,” you tell him, eyes on his tits.

He’s so deep, feet planted on the couch as he fucks into you, unable to help himself. You get it. You’re tight, warm, and wet. Better than his fist. Your pussy is noisy, squelching each time you bottom you, grinding your clit into his pelvis, feeling his cock twitch each time you tighten around him. The plap of his balls hitting your ass when enough momentum is built up.

Curly’s helpful, when he sees you tense up, throwing your head back and rolling your hips over and over, you want him deeper and deeper, he wets his fingers with your slick and rubs figure eights into your clit.

It’s just enough to make your toes curl—Oh, who are you kidding? You near blackout when you cum, moaning so loud you scare yourself. You see black. Like someone’s drawn the curtains in your mind, ending the show. Your nails dig into his skin, but he’s always put up with that like a champ.

“Holy fuck.” Shaking still, you blink to clear your vision, you’ve wet his navel and his tummy and the couch might be ruined. You don’t even remember when he came inside you. What a shame. Feels good though, still warm. Sighing, you lay against his chest, Curly’s soft cock slips out of your hole, resting on his thigh. “Welcome home, Captain.”