#literally rhys in hyperion in the past

[strongfuck]

✏️ from gaea.

► from this meme.

Rhys: WHOEVER CAUSED THIS MESS IS GOING TO- Gaea: It was me... Rhys: ...Is going to be forgiven because everyone deserves a second chance.

Rhys, looking at his reflection: Now, that's rubbish. Who's that supposed to be? Gaea: Well, that's you. Rhys: Me?! Is that what I look like? Gaea: You don't know? Rhys: Busy day.

Gaea: Life could be worse, Rhys. Rhys: Life could be a lot better too!

Rhys: Well, Gaea and I finally did it! The rest of the squad: *gasps, shocked expressions, etc.* Rhys: That's right... We kissed!

Rhys: I was going to suggest we do Marilyn Monroe and JFK roleplay, but I’d get way too into it. Gaea: What- how? Rhys: You’d be like “come to bed … Mr. President” and I’d be like, “I need to increase the amount of American military advisors in South Vietnam by a factor of 18.”

[atlasreign]

Sickening realisation that Rhys is too soft for love. Like, this is a man who yes, put work above everything but is known to love so deeply that it'll make him ill. The fact that he was searching for the girls, romantic or platonic — that love he held for them kept him pushing & pushing, sending out more and more people to look for them.

But yeah. He's too soft for love. Too soft for love, too soft to be loved. The posts, re: love language, how his is so distinctly touch and showing signs of affection through offerings. These display that Rhys is absolutely a Worshipper love type, and this is horrendously detrimental to him and his wellbeing. The fact that he's so quick to forgo sleep to comfort another, or to spend hours trying to find ways he can help them; that's unhealthy.

His understanding of love has been so skewered by how he was treated in the past. How Stacey used his love to benefit her and threw him away when she was done. How he was hopelessly enamoured by the entity that was Jack and the legacy he left in Hyperion, only to be told that he was a means to an end, that his life was to be forfeit. That Jack feigned interest in him just to get a new body. How he had Sasha in his arms, but was so unsure this time around what kind of love it was that he just… Let it die.

He doesn't know how to love properly. If offering his life is right or wrong, if being willing to hurt and be hurt is the answer. He's so incredibly fucked up by it, when I say he's soft, yes he's soft because he can love too much and craves it too much, but I say he's soft because he's also willing to be burned up for it. He barely pushes back. Hell, his response to a love confession is literally to say "you don't have to love me back." As much as he yearns and craves to be loved he's also so acutely aware of his past mistreatments that it's second nature to simply say, don't force yourself to love me, because it'll only hurt me when you're done.

He always thinks he's overbearing, when he feels his presence is too much for someone, he'll take himself out of the equation. Temporarily or permanently. He'll leave spaces and isolate for days to try and balance it out. He's an unhealthy lover because he's so, so willing to sacrifice skin and bone to appease someone.

But on the other side, he is so affectionate, vocal, so emotionally tethered that you'd have no greater partner than him. Someone who adores you, looks at you like you're the sun. Being so utterly blinded by you. You would become all he sees when he looks at joyous elements in the world. He would be there when he's needed, acting as an anchor, emotional support, physical support.. Whatever is needed, he'd be there.

Overall. Though he is too soft to love & be loved, and is at risk of ruin… He will do so with grace, with devotion in his lungs. With a heart that is so loyal, that if it were to be touched by hands other than his beloved's, it would wither. You'd never have someone as loyal as him, so sacrificial.

i shared this in server, and now it comes here. i am sick for rhys. i am romantically ill for him.

[companylust]

@companywrath

After dear old dad had said, "No, Maliwan can't continue to allocate its funds to a seemingly neverending war with Atlas, you couldn't even crush one upstart CEO and I don't support your destiny to be with the love of your life, you're still somehow my least favorite child and you're literally only competing with memories at this point" (or at least, that's how Katagawa heard it), Katagawa was seemingly out of options. He had to lay low for awhile and tend to his wounds. The physical healed quickly, but the emotional... That took longer.

He spent a lot of time alone. He neglected his duties as an executive, delegating enough of it away that it looked like he was still doing something. He broke a lot of pleasure spheres. He tried not to keep an eye on Rhys, telling himself he should move on. That lasted for about twelve hours before it was late at night, the pleasure sphere by itself wasn't doing it, and he knew Rhys' face looking so vulnerable and soft and sweet while he slept was only a few clicks of the ECHO eye away.

After that broke down, Katagawa's addiction was back in full force. He revisited every old interview Rhys had ever done. He reminded himself of all the reasons he loved Rhys. He watched him constantly, day and night, wondering what it would be like if Rhys were dead, and came to one firm conclusion: It was better that he hadn't killed Rhys. Katagawa had just been mad, that was all. They could work things out.

That was the mindset Katagawa was in when it happened.

Of course he'd heard the news that Handsome Jack was back. Everyone in the six galaxies was talking about it. He revealed himself as seemingly back from the dead and immediately took over Hyperion again. The Maliwan board had an emergency meeting immediately after the news broke to discuss how the company would handle Hyperion going forward. Because of this and other stressors, Junior was keeping a feed of Rhys on his ECHO-eye basically 24/7.

He was watching Rhys's office when Jack came in. When... that happened.

What the hell was a dead man doing fucking Rhys?

Katagawa saw red. He jacked off about it constantly for days. He killed a lot of subordinates. Nothing was making it better. He needed answers. He knew any interactions with the CEO claiming to be Handsome Jack should be run past the Board first, but he didn't care. He was doing this.

Under his father's nose, Katagawa used Maliwan's vast resources to find where Jack slept at night. It was a turbomansion on a private Hyperion controlled planet, heavily protected. No big teams were getting in. Luckily, Katagawa was well-versed in slipping past security.

Jack's security was better than Rhys's, but eventually, slowly and so carefully, Katagawa made his way inside. He stood over Handsome Jack laying in his bed, or at least the impostor successfully pretending to be him. The man who had ruled the most profitable company in the universe and killed countless people doing it. The very same man Katagawa had watched on the security footage fucking the only person who mattered in this shithole world.

In repose, he was vulnerable. Everyone was. People looked gentle in their sleep. When Katagawa came close enough to see his face, he realized, of course, Jack didn't sleep in the mask. His bare face was revealed for Katagawa's eager eyes. If this was the real Handsome Jack, Katagawa was now in rare company, one of the few people to see what secret Jack kept behind the mask.

But he wasn't here to wonder at his big nasty scar. He was here to get answers about Rhys. He drew his katana--the most advanced Maliwan tech, with a mononuclear edge that could easily cleave Jack's head off his shoulders. Katagawa held the sharp side to Jack's throat.

"Tell me what you have to do with Rhys."

[owlbearwrites]

Oh my goodness you're Caffeinated_Owlbear on AO3 I am in love with your work. I am so, so far behind on Lost and Found but In Good Hands is one of my comfort fics because it has everything.

This is a very exciting day for me. Anyway requesting some Dr. Cupcake because that sounds amazing.

Oh gosh, thank you so much. I'm glad you like my fics! (In Good Hands holds a very special place in my heart. 💛)

Here's a bit from Dr. Cupcake (Niobe Heights on ao3). I've literally been writing on this fic all day today. As luck would have it, your ask came in literally minutes after I wrapped up a smut scene, so the following bit is from the aftermath.

Context: Rhys is a doctor at a children's hospital where Jack's daughter Angel is staying for long-term care, and Jack is, basically, a volunteer nursing assistant. After a prolonged courtship mainly consisting of getting on each other's nerves, they just hooked up in the staff showers.

***

“So…” Jack says, having finished toweling off and pulling his new Hyperion sweater over his head. “You wanna grab some food, or a drink, or is this a ‘what happens in the staff showers, stays in the staff showers’ kinda thing? Wait…” Something occurs to him. It would’ve occurred to him earlier, were it not for the… well, everything in the past half-hour. “What the hell are you doing here in the peasants’ shower, anyway? Don’t you have, like, a private lounge for fancy doctors somewhere in the building?”

Rhys freezes halfway through buttoning his shirt, stares at him for a split second, and then looks everywhere and anywhere but at Jack.

“There’s a— It’s not— I couldn’t— Actually—”

“Oh, just pick a lie.” Jack rolls his eyes. “Or don’t. I actually don’t give a shit. And if you’re getting all bent out of shape ‘cause of what we just did, c’mon, don’t be an idiot. You don’t need to come up with an excuse to ditch me.”

“No! God, no!” Rhys finally makes eye contact with him. “This isn’t about that, I swear, and… I’m not trying to ditch you, Jack, I promise. A drink sounds… really good, actually. Can we go to my office?”

“Yeah, okay.” He’s not totally convinced, ‘cause Rhys seems just like the kinda guy who loves to make everything weird and awkward. But a drink does sound good.

[lavend-ler]

001 + rhysothy? :)

oh anon, sweet anon u rly set my mind in motion,,, apologies in advance cause it got SO long but I honestly could talk abt them forever ❤💙

when I started shipping it if I did:

I’ve talked abt them with Spok on and off back in late 2019 but it rly hit at the beginning of 2020. for New Year’s we’ve played Tales, I played it for the first time. like a day or two after, we’ve been chillin out and stuff, when I mentioned to them how I’d love to make moodboards again. they requested Rhysothy moodboard so that night at my own house I did it. aaannnddd right after I just couldn’t stop thinking abt them so I wrote my first Rhysothy fic “Real” (I haven’t played TPS then yet lol I only got TPS for my bday in feb). needless to say ever since I can’t stop thinking abt them and well,,, the rest is history

my thoughts:

I never thought I’d feel like this towards a ship but Rhysothy stole my heart and ran away with it. I swear, it’s either one of or my exact fave ship of all time, my loves, my everything, my sweethearts. they’re such a perfect match, no matter how u think abt them, really

I’ll start with the fact that their personalities mesh together so beautifully. Tim is a man who is mostly confused with his own life, passive to the fact that he mostly lets things happen in his life, rather than take action and makes decisions out of necessity. he’s passionate, headstrong, resourceful, cheeky but he’s also known to play a role in his life. A role which is very similar to Rhys who actually is a bit of an opposite. He’s the fake it till u make it guy, he’s confident, challenging, loves to get what he wants and makes so many decisions.

with a Tim who’s passive to a point and Rhys who’s active to a point u already have a fantastic duo, adding to this their sharp tongues, varying love for the thrill (Tim more than Rhys ofc), sensitive sides and the want of romance in their lives and u have a fantastic mix. but then u add,,, everything else and u’ve got a pair more than perfect. their shared trauma of playing someone they weren’t, the obligations to the world, the constant feeling that they didn’t matter in the grand scheme.

Hyperion left such trauma on them that’s honestly unique to them for their own close relationships with Jack. but here’s the thing,,, Rhysothy isn’t abt Jack, it’s abt Tim and Rhys. and it’s abt their choices. they heal from their trauma together, because they choose each other over and over again, despite what the world tells them. here's sth so beautiful abt the choices they make for each other.

Rhys chooses Tim over the obligation from the world to bury Jack's image. he chooses Tim because he wants him around, he admires him as a person. and Tim chooses Rhys because he sees how much he cares. he chooses him and Promethea and gives himself a chance for a better life, rather than a lonely unhappy one. they choose each other over their pasts, their trauma, their loneliness from the past. they open their hearts to the fact that future can be bright if they learn to let the past be past. it's not ignoring it, it's learning from it. that no matter if they killed and stole bc of Jack the other person understands how different they are now

Tim and Rhys' relationship could be beautiful cause honestly,,, only they could understand each other's hearts and love each other past what everyone thinks. it’s abt choosing each other over and over again, it’s love cause they want each other so much. Rhysothy is abt Tim and Rhys giving each other a hand and then with their fingers intertwined, never leaving each other’s side

What makes me happy about them:

literally everything, honestly. I love the idea of them meeting and instantly clicking. I love how much they understand each other. I love that Rhys makes Tim happy and Tim makes Rhys happy. I love the idea of them going on silly dates after work, ordering huge sundaes that Tim loves so much. I love the idea of them having serious talks over their trauma that end with Tim kissing Rhys’ tears away. I love the comfort of their relationship, the familiarity. they’re srsly perfect for each other

What makes me sad about them:

ahahhahahahahaaaaaaaaa can u believe they never met in canon. can u believe this cause I don’t

things done in fanfic that annoys me:

I rly hate a lot of small things actually Im sorry fdkjnbdjkb I hate when ppl make Tim and Rhys hate each other from the start cause I genuinely don’t think they would. Rhys has this compassion he wouldn’t be aggressive towards Tim. also u know the general blatant mischaracterization like making Rhys so rude towards Tim, I hate it. or when ppl just omit Tim’s character arc completely just why. or how their relationship is only used to set up their relationship with Jack. idk man the older I get, the more it bugs me dkfjjnbdfjk

things I look for in fanfic:

long fics that would describe their relationship, slowburn with good arcs for both of em, sweet fluff, love confessions, them being goofy and domestic just,,, I love their lovestory sm and I’d love to read more of their slowburn really cause u know damn well they’d take forever to be together but it’s so satisfying

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: 

yeah, here’s the thing, I don’t really ship them with anyone else at this point. I truly believe Tim and Rhys are each other’s happiest endings and I can’t imagine them apart at this point, no matter if romantic or platonic so I’m just rly meh abt other ships. if Tim and Rhys didn’t end up together I’d just see them being very close and possibly never finding their matches. Rhys would be the CEO on the top of the world and Tim would be Lanceman who works things out for himself. I honestly just see them as each other’s perfect match and their happily ever after so I don’t rly see em in any other relationship

My happily ever after for them:

in a very short summary, MEETING each other, Rhys helping Tim out with a hand, then Tim gets a job at Atlas as a Lanceman. they bond, spend time together, knowing how much they get along and slowly they fall in love. they move in together, have 6 cats, get married and live happily ever after together on Promethea <3

who is the big spoon/little spoon:

most of the times Rhys is the little spoon and Tim is the big spoon but Tim loves to be a little spoon too uwu

what is their favorite non-sexual activity:

again, honestly, I feel like talking is their fave activity. they go on a fancy dates together or the ones that are more intimate to them. ordering said huge sundaes, trying to see who can eat more. they love to play with their cats and Tim takes Rhys to Promethean shelters to do volunteering work. Rhys loves to listen to Tim’s voice, hence he loves to hear his stories. they love to share stories while drinking coffee or wine under the Promethean skies. they just love being around each other, talking the nights away

[papa-rhys]

Shared Empires (Rhys X Reader)

Note: Wow it’s literally been like over a year and a half since I wrote/posted fanfic, how do I even format this shit? I legit can’t remember so here goes

Warnings: none

Word count: 2131

Category: fluff

It’s been seven years since the fiasco with Handsome Jack and Hyperion, but you still can’t shake that blasted gaudy yellow colour from your mind’s eye whenever you see Rhys. 

             It’s hardly fair to keep associating him with the limp-dicked prick that awakened the Warrior - Rhys is the opposite of Jack in every way, except for the zeros in his bank account and the need to have an office with ceilings that are far too high (how are you supposed to kill spiders when they’re that high up?) Rhys is bumbly and friendly and harmless enough. And he’s better-looking, too. But that yellow colour is seared into your retinas for an eternity and there’s a tiny part of your unreasonable lizard brain that feels the need to point out Rhys’ involvement in what Hyperion did every time you come a little too close to enjoying yourself in his presence.

             Still, he’s paying your wages as of right now and a deal is a deal; help him win this war against Maliwan and he’ll make sure you never struggle for a meal again. And if there’s anything at all that you’re good at, it’s killing corporations dead in the water.

             “How you diddling, Mr Hyperion?” you ask, striding into Rhys office and feeling mighty proud of the frown you pull from him. This kind of tingle could only come from irking Rhys, you think. Or from finding the juicy photos Moxxi keeps stashed on her echo device.

             “I thought I told you not to call me that,” Rhys says, handing you a gun as you cross the floor of his office and reach him where he stands. 

             “You did,” you chirp, cheerfully, “I just didn’t listen. What’s this for?”

             Rhys straightens his back, puffs his chest out a little; all the hallmarks of a man who’s ever-so-proud of himself. He stands with his hands on his hips and his chin held high and you’re itching to throw out another teasing insult, just to bring him down a peg. It’s not fair to tease him so often and you know it, but lord is it fun to see him blush. And you’re, like, ninety percent certain he enjoys it, too.

             “That is the finest Atlas weapon on the market,” he informs you. “It’s a reward… for killing that nutjob with the miniguns... You’re welcome.” 

             You look the gun over and shrug with one shoulder, then you stash it in your backpack and shrug the bag off, lobbing it onto one of the too-big sofas in the lavish seating area of the office. There’s no way in any reality that Rhys reads enough books to justify the size of those bookshelves, but you suppose rich people have to spend their money on something.

             “What’s next on the to-do list, then, boss?” you ask, hopping up and sitting on the back of the sofa, swinging your legs back and forth.

             “Okay, I could really get used to you calling me boss,” Rhys says. “It’s... actually kind of a turn on, so let’s not talk about that anymore. Nothing is the answer to your question.” You pull your head back against the barrage of words that just flitted your way, but there’s no time to process them. Rhys is talking again. It seems he does that often. “There’s nothing on the to-do list,” he continues. “For once, we have a break in the chaos. Can’t tell you the last time that happened, I’m actually kinda miffed about it. I’m very accustomed to fearing for my life. But we’re off the clock for a while, so relish in the quiet for a while. You earned it!”

             You let yourself slip backwards onto the sofa, laying upside down and stretching your arms out each side of you. He’s not the only one who’s used to living a fast-paced life. Quiet is the exact opposite of your job description. Shooting, murdering, setting things on fire - all things that you’re far more suited to.

             “Whatever will I do with all of this free time?” you ask, gazing up at the ceiling and watching a spider making the trek from one side to the other. Maybe Rhys has a step ladder he uses to kill them?

             Rhys meddles with something out of view and music begins playing on a record player at the edge of the room - the soft, sweet kind that couples dance to; not the tedious wub-wubs that claptrap tortures you all with. Rhys comes back into view again when he leans over the back of the sofa, resting on his elbows. “We could try some dancing?” He says the words like he’s asking a question, wincing slightly as he tests the waters. 

             This is one of those moments that lizard brain ruins; reminding you of Rhys’ past and what it meant to you seven years ago. The fighting and the taunting and the constant cat and mouse. The people you lost, the ones you couldn’t save. Jack’s barrage of insults and moonshots; spat at you in equal measure. Rhys could have pushed the button on any one of those moonshots, your lizard brain suggests. He was complicit.

             But that was then, wasn’t it? And this is now. He learned lessons from Jack. He’s different. And there’s no point in fighting for the future if you still spend all of your time in the past. It’s okay to enjoy a little taste of what you’re fighting for.

             A smile spreads slowly across your lips and you cock an eyebrow. “You? Dancing? I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

             “You’ve never seen my dancing,” he says accusingly, though there’s an upwards slant to one side of his mouth. “I have moves like no one else.” 

             “No doubt about that,” you tease, letting him help you up off the sofa.

             The music tinkles and hums in the background as the two of you head for the centre of the office, surrounded by nothing but empty space. You shake out your hands and feet, warming up like you’re gearing for battle, and Rhys shakes his head with a smile.

             “You really don’t know how to be graceful, do you?” he asks.

             “Don’t get paid to be graceful, Rhysie boy,” you reply, rolling your neck until it cracks softly. “I get paid to kill stuff.”

             “Well, let’s hang fire on that for now, shall we?” Rhys holds out his hands and you take them, letting him guide you. He’s better at dancing than you thought he’d be, but only slightly. Better - [quotation marks] - meaning he hasn’t yet tripped over his feet. But the night is still young, so you’ll not rule that out just yet.

             He spins you and dips you and you both mutter a wealth of light-hearted insults between the pair of you. His bright smile could almost trick you into thinking he’s good at this. That he’s not a bumbling idiot with a too-big office and two left feet. A part of him is actually quite suave... in his own way.

             “Am I impressing you?” he asks.

             “Give me a minute and I’ll decide,” you smile as he spins you around on the spot.

             “Oh, come on, I’m impressing you. Admit it, I’m great at this.”

             He pulls a laugh from you, and against your better judgement, you allow it. There’s no way he’ll ever let you forget it if you compliment him on his dancing skills, so you opt for something with a little more self-preservation. A safe middle ground.

             “You’re making a good effort,” you offer.

             “Pfft,” comes the reply. He twirls you outwards and pulls you back in again.

             “Okay then, hotshot,” you say, landing against his chest with a soft oof, the breath catching in your chest. “You’re a lot better than I expected you’d be. How’s that?”

             He grins widely, the smile reaching his eyes. One of them is blue, the other a hazel colour that looks almost as electronically enhanced as the other. Do eyes naturally come in colours that bright? There’s a moment that seems to stretch for an extraordinarily long length of time, where you find yourself questioning the bizarre and totally irrational urge to do something weird, like kissing him or something. What madness that would be, right? Crazy. 

             You’ve both slowed down, now, the dancing mostly forgotten. All that’s left is a gentle sway as he speaks. “I wanna ask you something,” he says. “But I’m a little bit terrified of you.”

             “A little bit terrified?” you echo. “No need to be scared of me unless you’re thinking about cutting my wages.”

             He gives a nervous laugh that fades off as quickly as it’d had appeared. “Your wages are safe with me,” he says. “But that’s kind of along the lines of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

             “Go on…”

             Rhys spins you around to face the window behind his desk, the entire city visible beyond it in all its glowing glory. The neon lights paint a million different colours on the floor of the office and the sky is speckled with explosions that almost look pretty if you imagine that they’re not a product of war. The whole office is flooded by the view, buildings visible through every window.

             “I wanna share this with you,” Rhys says. “All of it.”

             “What do you mean?” you ask him, the light flooding your eyes, overloading you with input.

             “I don’t want all this to myself,” he explains. “It’s too much. Kingdoms are meant to be shared, right? Well, I wanna share this one with you. If you’d want that, obviously.”

             “You mean, like, business partners?”

             He laughs, nervous again. “If business partners are in love with each other, then yeah, I guess.” 

             You turn to face him and look up at him with your eyebrows raised. Now it’s your turn to blush; not an easy task for someone to accomplish. Touche, Mr Hyperion.

             “I shouldn’t have said that, should I?” he asks, watching you as you look up at him, slightly dumbfounded. Then he seems to cave in on himself a little, shoulders slumping. “I know you’re only here because I’m paying you to be here and I know you’re waaaaay too cool to ever feel that way about an idiot like me, but I figured I’d give it a try anyway, you know? And see if maybe you’d - “

             You push up onto your toes and press a kiss to his lips, cursing him for being lanky enough to make you put effort into kissing him. If he were any taller, you’d need a harness and those stabby things that rock climbers jab into cliff faces. 

             He holds onto your waist as you kiss and for all his bumbling and lack of self-assurance, he soon takes to it, cupping your jaw with one hand and leaning down to meet you halfway.

             Your own hands take hold of the collar of his vest, gripping fabric on either side and using it to pull him towards you. With shuffling steps, the two of you are edging towards the desk as one, all stumbling and heavy breathing, carefully making your way up the shallow steps, until you hit the edge of the desk. 

             “I don’t think this is an appropriate way to act with your employees,” you breathe.

             “Then you’re fired,” Rhys says. “There; now you’re not an employee.”

             Your heart hammers in your chest, pulse thrumming in your ears to match the beat. Wobbly legs and and a woozy light-headedness tell you that your body is pumping adrenaline through you at record pace. It’s different than the feeling you get on the battlefield; you feel so much more out of your depth here. Out there, you have a rhythm - motions to go through. Routine. But here, you’re just going with the flow, not quite knowing what you’re doing. A new partner means a new rhythm. A new pattern to be learned. What makes Rhys tick? What does he like and dislike? What does he - 

             “Oh!” 

             The two of you break apart at the sound of the voice coming from the doorway. Surprise in both of your faces matches the surprise in Lorelei’s voice. She watches you with her arms folded across her chest and her hip jutted out to one side as you and Rhys gather yourselves up.

             “If I had a dollar for every time I’d walked in on you in a compromising position, I’d be able to buy you out,” she tells Rhys. He smiles uncomfortably and fixes his tie. “But this takes the bloody cake,” she adds.

             “We were celebrating,” you offer.

             Lorelei hums. “I’ll bet,” she says, looking amused. “But you were celebrating prematurely. Maliwan just showed up at the front door and they’re not bothering to ring the doorbell. Need you outside, Vault Hunter.”

             Rhys sighs heavy and turns to you, the last traces of his pant visible in the way his chest moves with each breath. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

             “Yeah,” you agree, sighing. You smooth out your hair and make your way over to the seating area to collect your backpack, crossing the room on shaky legs. Hauling your bag onto your shoulders, you pick out your favourite gun and check that it’s loaded. “Alright,” you muse, nodding to Rhys and then to Lorelei, “back to work, then.”

[snappedsky]

Borderlands: Skies the Bodyguard 3

Skies and the crew head through the Dust. Previous! Next! 

--

Chapter 7

Previously

           “Do I have to use a gun?” Rhys whined, “it’s not really my style.”            “This isn’t about ‘style’,” Skies chided, “this is about living on Pandora, where everything wants to kill you all the time. Here, look, I even found you a Hyperion pistol. It’s not as good as mine but it’ll be fine for you.”            “Fine,” Rhys groaned as she handed him the gun. They were inside some kind of old office room in the Old Haven Atlas facility. Skies had repurposed it to be a firing range, with three crudely drawn bandit targets. She held out her own gun and Rhys mirrored her stance.

           “Okay, grip it with both hands, aim down the sight, and squeeze the trigger,” she explained.

           Rhys did so, and the bullet whizzed directly between two targets. His shoulders sagged with disappointment.

           “That’s alright,” Skies said reassuringly, “you’re a beginner. Take a deep breath and keep trying.”            Inhaling deeply, Rhys tried again. Half an hour and about one hundred bullets later, the wall behind the targets was riddled with holes while the targets themselves remained clean and unharmed.

           Groaning heavily, Rhys hung his head and arms in defeat while Skies shook her head with disbelief.

           “Y’know, the saying is ‘you can’t hit the broad side of a barn’,” she said, “but you have no trouble with that.”

           “Whatever!” Rhys snapped, throwing his hands into the air with frustration. “Like to see you do better. What am I saying, of course you’d do bet-.”

           Skies cut him off by firing her pistol, emptying the mag into the heads of all three targets.

           “Whoa,” Rhys breathed in awe.

           “Tch,” she clicked her tongue with disapproval. “I’m rusty.”

           “Rusty?” he exclaimed, “you got all head-shots!”

           “Yeah, but the bullets didn’t go into the same holes.”            He blinked at her, stunned. “Are you what they call a ‘crack shot’?”

           Skies beamed. “Well, I have been doing this literally my whole life. Actually, I prefer using knives- has a more ‘personal touch’. But that doesn’t always work.”            Rhys huffed and crossed his arms like a stubborn child. “Well, when I start weapons manufacturing, I’m gonna make guns that don’t require aiming. Yeah, they’ll have…tracking bullets.”

           “Tracking bullets?” Skies snorted with amusement.

           “That’s right!” he boomed, “shoot them in the general area of your enemies, and they’ll take care of the rest. They’ll be unlike any other guns ever.”            “Well, you’ll be pandering to the one demographic no other gun manufacturers have thought about: people who can’t aim.”            “Exactly!”

           Skies chuckled but grabbed his gun and handed it back to him. “Still, I want you to hang onto this. I’ll feel better knowing you have something other than that pixie stick with you.”            “Hey, that stun baton is awesome,” Rhys argued, “but fine, for you, I’ll keep the gun.”

           She smiled softly. “Thank you.”

---

 Now

           Lilith pinches her nose in frustration at the sight before her. The technical is completely written off, the hood practically flattened against the side of the tunnel and the rest of the vehicle blocking off access to the Dust. The only good news is that none of the passengers were hurt, just some whiplash.

           “We’re sorry, Commander,” one of the Crimson Raiders who was in the vehicle says. “We just saw a group of people we didn’t know running from Overlook and we thought it was suspicious. If we knew one of them was Skies the Bodyguard, we would’ve called you.”            “It’s fine,” Lilith insists, “you didn’t know.”            Brick and Mordecai stand beside her while the Vault Hunters examine the vehicle. The only major damage was from the crash, except for the cause which is the left tire torn up by bullets. It’s clear the aiming was precise and exact; the shooter knew exactly what they were doing.

           “Was Skies the one shooting?” Mordecai asks.

           “I think so,” the driver replies, “it looked like a woman.”            “Why would she aim for the tire and not the driver…” Maya muses.

           “It’s interesting/,” Zer0 says, “a crack shot like Skies could have/ killed them all with ease.”

           “What are ya gettin’ at?” Salvador asks.

           “Don’t tell me you actually buy her sob story,” Gaige scoffs. Zer0 merely shrugs, ‘…’ displayed on his helmet.

           “It doesn’t matter anyway,” Maya grunts, “they escaped into the Dust. We’ll never find them.”

           “Oh, we’ll find them,” Axton declares as he reaches into his bag and pulls out Skies Psycho mask. “With this.”

           “You kept that?” Maya scoffs with disgust.

           “You bet,” he grins, “and with it, Dukino can track her scent.”

          “Good idea,” Lilith comments, “you guys get Dukino and we’ll get this vehicle out of the way. Then we’ll track her down.”

           “You got it, boss,” Axton salutes before they jump back into their vehicle and drive away.

           Meanwhile, Skies and her group are quickly covering ground through the Dust. They keep an eye on their tail, to make sure they’re not being followed. When they’re about halfway through the desert, Skies pats the cab.

           “This is far enough, August,” she says, “stop the car.”

           After he does so, everyone hops out.

           “What are we doing?” Sasha asks, “this is the middle of nowhere.”            “I know,” Skies replies as he grabs a grenade from her coat. “We gotta ditch the car.”

           “What?” she exclaims but before anyone can argue, Skies tosses the nade and blows the technical to smoking bits.

           “We go on foot from here,” she clarifies, “it’ll be harder to track us.”

           “You could’ve given us a little warning,” Vaughn mutters as he dusts some debris from his shoulders.

           “Don’t worry,” Skies says as they start walking. “We’re not far. And we would’ve had to walk the rest of the way anyway.”            They trek though the desert, the hot sun beating down on them. Thankfully the journey is pretty quiet and they don’t run into any bandits, just a few spiderants that are easily dealt with.

           After a couple hours, they arrive at what appears to be an old, rundown train station. They only guess that based on the tracks and the busted old train; the buildings are totaled beyond recognition.

           “Okay, we gotta go down the tracks,” Skies says, “watch your step. Some of these boards are pretty rotted.”

           “Where are we going again?” Sasha asks, “I don’t think you told us.”

           “An old town called Lynchwood,” she replies, “it’s been completely abandoned since the sheriff died and the townsfolk went hog wild and killed each other. I stayed there for a while after Jack died but…there were too many memories.”

           “Memories?” Vaughn questions.

           Skies swallows hard, hesitating. “The sheriff was Jack’s girlfriend, Nisha. We were…friends.”            “Of course you were,” Sasha scoffs derisively.

           Skies is silent for a minute before clearing her throat. “A-anyway, she had her own personal fast travel station that she could use to visit Jack. If we can get it working again, we should be able to use it to get into Opportunity.”

           “And if not?” August asks.

           She shrugs. “We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.”            “Please don’t mention burning bridges,” Vaughn whimpers as he warily eyes the long fall below them.

           They walk quietly for a few moments. Nervously wringing her hands, Gortys constantly glances between the rest of the group and the unconscious Claptrap under Loader Bot’s arm.

           “Uh-um,” she finally speaks up. “Could we reactivate Claptrap now?”

           Everyone stops, looking at her with surprise before glancing between each other. Then Skies shrugs, “sure, why not. Just make sure he doesn’t run away, Loader Bot.”

           Loader Bot rests him on the ground and reactivates him. He looks around for a second, confused, before shrilly screaming.

           “Gah, I change my mind, turn him off,” Skies groans with annoyance as everyone covers their ears.

           “You kidnapped me! You bot-napped me!” Claptrap shouts, pointing at them accusingly. “Villains! Baddies! Criminals!”

           “You said you’d help us,” Vaughn points out.

           “I never would’ve said that if I knew you were working for her!” he snaps, pointing at Skies, who just glares him with irritation.

           “Working with, not for,” August corrects.

           “You won’t get away with this!” Claptrap barks, “my friends will come save me! They’ll stop you! You’ll all be destroyed!”

           “Gah, this is pointless,” Skies scoffs, “he’ll never help us now.”

          “Hang on, I think I can fix this,” Sasha declares and approaches him. Kneeling in front of him, she takes his hands, immediately shutting him up.

           “We’re sorry we kidnapped you,” she says, “we panicked. But we really do need your help. My sister has disappeared. She’s the only family I have left. You’re our only hope for finding her. Please, Claptrap.”

           Claptrap stares into her big, green eyes and at his hands clasped in hers. Then he pulls one out and bashfully rubs the back of his chassis. “Aw, I can’t say no to you. You’re way to pretty-guh, I mean, family is very important to me.”

           “You’re my hero,” Sasha chimes and Claptrap laughs.

           “Nah, I wouldn’t go that far,” he says, “I’m just a good guy with good morals. Yup, that’s what everyone says about me. They say ‘that Claptrap is such a good guy’.”

           Claptrap continues his claptrap as everyone starts walking again. August grins as he nudges Sasha’s shoulder. “Nicely done.”

           She smirks. “Fiona’s not the only one who can manipulate.”

           The sun has started setting when they finally reach their destination. They go through a train station into an old town nestled in the mountains. It’s eerily quiet, with just the wind serving as ambiance.

           “It’s a ghost town,” Vaughn comments as they make their way past the bullet-hole riddled buildings.

           “I told you,” Skies says, “Jack gave this town to Nisha as an anniversary gift. After she died, the Eridium mining was shut down and everyone went nuts.”

           “An anniversary gift?” August scoffs, “don’t most guys give like chocolates or flowers?”

           “Yeah, well,” she smiles wistfully, “Jack never did anything small.”            She leads them through the town to Nisha’s old house. The roof over the porch is caved in, the windows have been completely shattered, and the door is hanging off one hinge. But the inside remains intact.        

           “Okay, we can rest here for a while,” Skies declares as she cross the kitchen to the fast travel station embedded in the wall. She taps it a couple times and sighs. “Power to the town is out. We’ll have to turn it back on.”            “Can we eat first?” Vaughn asks as everyone sits at the table. “I’m starved.”

           “What is there to eat?” Sasha scoffs.

           Skies searches through the cabinets before finding a bottle of Rakk ale and a can of beans. “Here we go. Ale and beans, the Pandora staple. Well, actually that’d be skag meat. I can go hunting if you want.”            “Beans are fine,” August grunts and cracks the can open with a knife. Everyone takes turns scooping some out with their fingers.

           “Humans are hopeless,” Loader Bot comments, “your reliance on sustenance will truly be your downfall.”            Skies chuckles and he looks at her curiously. “What?”

           “Nothing,” she replies, “just…Wilhelm used to say stuff like that. Man. Being here really does…dig up old memories…”

           She looks around the house forlornly before her eyes fall on the bottle of Rakk ale and she snatches it.

           “Welp, if no one else is gonna drink any, I’ll just help myself,” she declares before taking a swig.

           “Is now really the time to be getting drunk?” Sasha scorns.

           “Oh, Sasha,” Skies sighs, “you don’t get drunk off Rakk ale. You just get sad.”            She takes another big swig as she lumbers out the door, leaving without another word. She collapses just outside, by the cliff side, and quietly drinks the ale as the sky darkens.

[falselyprofound]

[takes a shot] a’ight, i still have a lot of Tim thoughts - like a lot - so i’m just gonna dump ‘em all on one post to cut down on spam. might update this post over time, might not, we’ll see

spoilers for bl3 and the heist dlc. (also bltps and bl2 spoilers but that goes without saying)

It’s still so weird seeing a borderlands title card that actually uses a character’s first and last name. Especially since Tim’s last name is only mentioned once in an optional log, and most characters w canon full names only have one displayed. (Rhys, Sir Hammerlock, Aurelia, etc.) Like I guess there’s Jakobs but... y’know. that’s because it’s a plot point. But even though I’m massively overthinking it, there’s something nice about tim breaking the pattern. The guy who got called by the wrong name for ten years definitely deserves to get his identity acknowledged by the fourth wall

still feeling real :( about how Ember is introduced. tl;dr, she and tim used to be a thing, but then he just up and vanished one day without so much as a word. the way he describes it paints him in a very bad light, and both him and the player are expecting her to be mad at him... and then you actually meet her and she’s just like “oh shit, i remember tim. is he ok? he has a miserable fuckin life”. like that shit caught me way off guard. the self-loathing is strong in that one, huh.

part of me wonders why tim never took the mask off. for all his hatred of jack’s face, he didn’t do a lot to change his own over the past seven years. like, i know it’s mostly just gearbox wanting to keep him recognizable, but I do wonder about the story implications. maybe he needs it on so he can get through the jackpot’s security. maybe he just doesn’t want to think about the scar jack gave him. or maybe taking it off’ll just detonate his face. hm. I dunno-- maybe that actually gets explained at some point and I just haven’t found a vid of it yet.

sidenote; i’m still fucked up about tim’s hand ok. like, as if getting involuntary plastic surgery wasn’t bad enough, jack just more-or-less hacked the guy’s hand off and replaced it with even more hyperion tech. and then he has to saw it off again by himself. doesn’t even get the vault hunter to help, just straight up shoves his arm in a laser beam so he doesn’t die. like damn bitch what the FUCK.

god. do you think tim knows about all the people who have died since he got stuck working on the jackpot? like... Nisha, probably -- Jack was pretty pissed about that, so if he actually gave enough of a shit about Tim to remember he existed then there’s a good chance he probably ranted about her death. Wilhelm, maybe, though not as likely. but aurelia? roland? lilith? angel? does he even know she exists...?

wait shit does he know janey and athena got married? did he miss their wedding. i swear to god.

am i putting too much thought into this character? almost certainly

borderlands is not a series i think too hard about. mostly bc it’s a comedy series known for its heavy reliance on meme humor, and its plots are too grand a scale for me to really connect to. (not necessarily a problem w the series’s structure - it’s just not really my cup of tea.) so it’s kind of wild that one of the few things about the mainstream series that resonates w me, is the character who was literally a cash-grab dlc designed for people who wanted to play as Jack in TPS

but damn if you pause to look at any aspect of his life it’s just. sad.

one of his first lines is just him forgetting how jokes work, because... well...

you good, man?? you good??

this isn’t even getting into that whole “tim has some of jack’s dna that gives him violent impulses” thing. or the motivational stuff he wrote on the walls of his room.

or how he’s been stuck in character/otherwise isolated for so long, that he actually forgets his own name if you idle near him for a couple of minutes. (“Tim, I’m Jack, I’m Tim, I’m Jack. Get it together, Jack! I mean, Tim! I mean... goddammit!”)

i mean i could get into those things, but that’s such a deep rabbithole i’d be here all night and i got shit to do

anyway tl;dr-- i’m both mortified that his life somehow managed to get worse after the events of the pre-sequel, but positively delighted that he still gets his happy ending.

if ever there was a character in this series that deserves it, it’s Tim. No fucking backsies, Gearbox. Do not take this away from him.

[clairekatswritingcorner]

Distraction

Word Count: 1,348

Summary: D loves a lot of things about Rhys, often becoming helplessly swayed by his charm. Although it’s hard for her to comprehend, her charms are just as compelling to him.

*Author’s Note*: Another commission for @robotarmjokes! This was really fun to write…I love flirty situations, especially when the people involved end up getting overwhelmingly flustered :P I hope you enjoy!

Although he tried to use his cocky side to his advantage, it usually came out at the worst times. To her, any time he flaunted his charisma was the worst…well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true. She couldn’t really make up her mind about what her feelings were, about whether she actually appreciated his obnoxious, flamboyant personality or not. If he asked her, she’d probably say she did; she was just that helpless when it came to him. A charming smile here, a heart fluttering kiss there. She was like a fly in his web, and it wasn’t even a particularly well configured one. More like a series of strings he’d just frivolously thrown together, and she was the prey that’d been foolish enough to waltz right into them.

She didn’t like knowing he held so much power over her. Perhaps it was actually beneficial for her to be aware of it, since it meant she could at least try to intervene on her own behalf when she felt like things were getting out of hand. She was so used to going along with what other people said, blindly following them down whatever path they happened to be treading. That’d been her downfall for several years, the fact that she couldn’t break away from the negative influence of others. She’d had a lot of help recognizing that side of herself, confronting and rejecting it all at once. The process was far from over, and she was sure it wouldn’t be for years to come. It would take her a lifetime of unlearning to move past all of that, but things were getting better. Currently, she was confident that he was the best thing in her life.

There was no way she could be the best thing in his life, though; not in her eyes. He did everything he could to convince her that the opposite was true, but teaching herself to accept such a statement was just another step in the healing process. Agreeing that she was good and lovely and worthwhile, worth knowing, worth being friends with. She’d improved his life in so many ways, stayed by his side even in his bleakest moments. Working as the newly appointed CEO of a resurrected weapon’s manufacture wasn’t easy; sometimes even Rhys found himself questioning how he’d managed to make it this far. He knew it would have been impossible without his friends, the ones that’d been with him before the tipping point of the Hyperion disaster, and the ones he’d taken solace in after the fact. D was a member of the latter category, and he wasn’t sure he could have kept himself together without her.

Two misfits taking refuge in one another, finding comfort, a partner that they knew didn’t exist anywhere else. D was tinkering with something in Rhys’s workshop while he was out scouting for some materials; a typical afternoon for the two partners in both love and business. The broker was particular engrossed in her task, completely oblivious to the sound of his return as he traipsed down the stairs, strolling into the workshop. He saw her bent over the shop table and smiled, leaning his elbows against it as he set a sack of something that sounded heavy and full of metal on its sturdy surface.

“Don’t you ever take any breaks?” he teased with a grin, but D wasn’t going to fall for his instigation just yet. She kept her eyes focused on her work.

“You probably take too many of them,” she rebuffed, although her tone indicated that she was more neutral than mad, as if she was simply stating a fact. “Especially for someone in your position. What do you think some of your employees would say if they knew how much their boss slacked off?”

“I don’t know. What do you say about me?” he goaded, and this time her eyes snapped up in both embarrassment and exasperation.  The image they fell upon left her speechless, starstruck, and paralyzed by a combination of anxiety and appreciation.

He was still propped up against the table, resting his cheek on his hand and giving her that smirk he knew she couldn’t resist. She knew she couldn’t resist it, and that only made her heart thump harder. His skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat, evidence of the significant physical exertion he’d been doing just before his return. It made his vibrant tattoos seem like they were shining, glowing with a faint light that the broker couldn’t distinguish between her imagination and reality.

For an office worker, and one that she presumed to be especially lazy at that, the nature of his physique was still a mystery to her. He must have just been born with impressive genes…actually, she was sure that was the case. She couldn’t help finding everything about him magnificent, wonderful, and breathtaking. She’d cursed him since the day they met for making her feel such irrational, pointless affection towards him. But she couldn’t deny how much happiness those emotions brought her, that he brought her. It was a gift that couldn’t be bought, that was rare to find, and even rarer to get lucky enough to hold on to like she had.

“Hey, are you feeling okay?” His question wasn’t jarring enough to snap her out of her trance. On the contrary, the proverbial hole she’d gotten herself stuck in only seemed to grow deeper. “Earth to D, what’s going on in that pretty pink head of yours? And I mean literally, your whole head is pink. Your face is the same shade as your hair…was it something I said?”

His words triggered something inside her, but her reply got jumbled up in her throat. She could barely articulate a coherent sound, let alone a full word. His smirk intensified, and her hands gripped whatever objects happened to be occupying them so tightly she was glad they weren’t more fragile. He tilted his head and kept his expression coy, drumming his human fingers against the table. He was scheming something, that much was clear, but right now D was in no position to figure out what it could be.

“Am I distracting you?” His tone was alluring and smooth as velvet; the sound of it made the broker’s arms erupt in goosebumps. “Is it because I’m gorgeous?”

If she’d had any strength left after that finishing blow, she would have used it to deck him. And if he’d thought her face was colorful before, he was in for a surprise. He could almost see the mushroom cloud rising from her neck to the top of her head, leaving a bright crimson shade in its wake that made laughter bubble behind his lips. But it also made him smile, turning the expression in his eyes into something warm and tender. One of them looked like melted chocolate and the other like honey sparkling in the sun. D swallowed hard, trying to find the strength of will to do something, say anything…but she was putty in his hands.

That description became quite literal as he reached across the table, caressing her face with his human hand as he drew her lips into a searing kiss. He tasted salty from the perspiration mixed with the fine grains of Pandoran sand, but his mouth was soft and gentle. He pressed his forehead against her own, lips parting just enough that he could speak. They still brushed against hers with every word.

“I think you’re gorgeous too, you know. The most beautiful thing in the whole universe.”

There was no way she could believe him, but his words and gestures kept her from immediately refuting his observation like she usually would. He meant what he said, and even if she found it impossible, she couldn’t deny the depth of sincerity in his words. She threaded her fingers with his robot ones where they rested on the table, trying to compose herself. No matter what it took, he was determined to never let her doubt or forget the strength of his love for her.

[atlasreign]

i am sorry for the man i become when i look at this man, he makes me SO ILL but anyways. love perception hc under the cut.

Sickening realisation that Rhys is too soft for love. Like, this is a man who yes, put work above everything but is known to love so deeply that it'll make him ill. The fact that he was searching for the girls, romantic or platonic — that love he held for them kept him pushing & pushing, sending out more and more people to look for them.

But yeah. He's too soft for love. Too soft for love, too soft to be loved. RE: love language, how his is so distinctly touch and showing signs of affection through offerings. These display that Rhys is absolutely a Worshipper love type, and this is horrendously detrimental to him and his wellbeing. The fact that he's so quick to forgo sleep to comfort another, or to spend hours trying to find ways he can help them; that's unhealthy.

His understanding of love has been so skewered by how he was treated in the past. How Stacey used his love to benefit her and threw him away when she was done. How he was hopelessly enamoured by the entity that was Jack and the legacy he left in Hyperion, only to be told that he was a means to an end, that his life was to be forfeit. That Jack feigned interest in him just to get a new body. How he had Sasha in his arms, but was so unsure this time around what kind of love it was that he just… Let it die.

He doesn't know how to love properly. If offering his life is right or wrong, if being willing to hurt and be hurt is the answer. He's so incredibly fucked up by it, when I say he's soft, yes he's soft because he can love too much and craves it too much, but I say he's soft because he's also willing to be burned up for it. He barely pushes back. Hell, his response to a love confession is literally to say "you don't have to love me back." As much as he yearns and craves to be loved he's also so acutely aware of his past mistreatments that it's second nature to simply say, don't force yourself to love me, because it'll only hurt me when you're done.

He always thinks he's overbearing, when he feels his presence is too much for someone, he'll take himself out of the equation. Temporarily or permanently. He'll leave spaces and isolate for days to try and balance it out. He's an unhealthy lover because he's so, so willing to sacrifice skin and bone to appease someone.

But on the other side, he is so affectionate, vocal, so emotionally tethered that you'd have no greater partner than him. Someone who adores you, looks at you like you're the sun. Being so utterly blinded by you. You would become all he sees when he looks at joyous elements in the world. He would be there when he's needed, acting as an anchor, emotional support, physical support.. Whatever is needed, he'd be there.

Overall. Though he is too soft to love & be loved, and is at risk of ruin… He will do so with grace, with devotion in his lungs. With a heart that is so loyal, that if it were to be touched by hands other than his beloved's, it would wither. You'd never have someone as loyal as him, so sacrificial.

[saintadonis]

four years of fucker

idk last night i wanted to mess with val’s canon and how he’s changed since. 

he was a particularly nasty boy in hyperion and thought he was better than literally everyone. a real shitbag. would sell his own mother to satan for one corn chip. physically he was pretty pale from like.. living in a space station for years, and he had healthy, defined features.

after the crash he lost access to T and the angles of his face got softer. he was a bitter little bitch about the events of Everything and decided that opening up to people was stupid because they’d just hurt him or die. his blog started around that time and tbh the early friends he made on here are what kept him from spiraling into a shitty reclusive supervillain.

BUT letting himself be vulnerable again also made him face his trauma and he... did not handle that well. he was more sociable but also way more anxious ALL the time and super prone to lashing out. he got back on T and his features sharpened up again, but he also... did not eat regularly, so he became sort of emaciated and sickly for a while.

in the past year or so!! he’s gotten better about.. pretty much everything. obviously he has a stable home now but he also actually like... exposes his body to the sun, and visits doctors and therapists, and takes care of himself for the most part. he’s in the best shape since helios and he tries to be a better person, which isn’t saying much, but fuck if he doesn’t think he deserves credit. he is definitely way more forthcoming with affection and humility than he’s EVER been. wrow.

i spent way longer than i meant to on some noodle doodles but! sometimes he feels unrecognizable to me as a rhys, so it’s wild to see his development all in a row. there were definitely some smaller changes peppered in there over time, but these were the most meaningful ones, i think

[dragonbagel]

who needs a hero?

part 8 of everything is not what it seems

sup bitches i’m back

Rhys passed out before they’d even boarded the shuttle. He’d struggled a bit longer once Jack had carried him out of his room (or, more accurately, his cell), but at the sight of the garish alien outside being restrained by Nisha, he’d fallen into unconsciousness with little more than a pained sigh. Jack was honestly glad that the nauseatingly skinny man was no longer pleading with him or attempting to scratch up his back like some wild animal, although he swore he could still hear Rhys’ voice hoarse in his ear.

“Come on!” he barked, not even bothering to wait for Nisha-- not even she would try to cross him in a state like this.

Hyperion soldiers darted past him as they flooded the station under Jack’s orders to “find out what the fuck’s going on and kill those sons of taints,” combat boots echoing as they scurried across the metal floor. A few had given sideways glances towards Jack and Rhys, but the murderous look on Jack’s face had them all but falling over themselves in an attempt to put space between themselves and their bloodthirsty overlord.

Jack-- well, Jack felt strange. On one hand, he recognized that hazy red headspace he was inhabiting, the literal mental “killzone” that his anger threw him into. But on the other... It was as if there was something dragging him down, a quicksand pulling harder on his trousers with each step. Rhys’ bony frame felt like an anchor weighing on him, though in some capacity he still knew that he could easily use his boyfriend like a barbell and not even break a sweat. So then why was his shirt sticking to his back, adhering to his skin via the perspiration dripping from his hairline down to his tailbone? Why was his entire body shaking worse than it had with the exertion of running endlessly around Elpis searching for vaults?

The tremors wracking his body didn’t abate even after he set Rhys’ limp body down onto one of the shuttle’s seats, his hands trembling so badly that Nisha had to swat him away and secure Rhys’ safety harness on her own. Jack didn’t speak, for once at a loss for words. He couldn’t draw his gaze away from the way Rhys’ head lolled limply against his shoulder, the way that the hideous gray jumpsuit he wore hung like oversized drapes off his frame. He gently cupped Rhys’ face with his hand, half convinced this was nothing but a hallucination and that his hand would phase through into empty air. But physical skin, although uncannily cold, met his touch, and he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Things would be okay. Jack would make sure of that. Once he figured out what the fuck had happened, the medical staff would whip Rhys back into tip-top shape (if they valued keeping all their limbs attached), and things could go back to normal. They had to.

“Stay with me, Rhysie,” he whispered, shakily stroking Rhys’ hair back from his forehead.

He could feel Nisha’s concerned gaze trained on him as the ship roared to life, although he didn’t meet her eyes. He couldn’t deal with any pity or half-assed apologies meant to sound sympathetic (which just so happened to be Nisha’s forte). The lawbringer, luckily, could tell that Jack was about two seconds from losing his cool and getting them all killed in the process, so she kept her lips pressed tightly together as she navigated them back to Helios. It was only when the engines died down and the docking light flashed green that she finally spoke.

“Jackie,” she said, trying to somewhat keep the usual harshness out of her voice. “We’re back.”

Jack’s head snapped up at the sound of his name, the arm that he’d looped around Rhys’ shoulder tightening. “Did you call medical?”

Nisha nodded, opting for less words considering Jack seemed to be vibrating out of his skin in pure fear and anger-- and she was not about to be the one to set him off.

They both turned to watch as the hatch to the ship began to emit a series of clicks before finally unscrewing and swinging open to reveal one of Helios’ loading bays. A team of emergency workers poured in, somehow managing to gracefully tout a stretcher into the small space. Jack hovered as they slowly maneuvered Rhys onto it, fingers twitching overtop the gun holstered to his thigh. His impulsive triggerfinger nearly won out when one member of the medical squad accidentally touched a little too close to Rhys’ ass while lifting him, although Nisha managed to prevent that bloody disaster by putting a firm hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“Come on,” she said, pulling her friend back towards her so that he was no longer breathing down anyone’s neck. “Let them do their jobs.”

Jack clearly wanted to argue, especially with how his fingernails were practically drawing blood with how tightly his fists were clenched. He managed to keep his cool enough to put some distance between himself and the medical team, although he by no means was about to let them out of his sight.

Rhys looked fucking dead, his pale hand hanging over the side of the stretcher. Jack knew his emotions were clouding his judgment, but if anything happened to Rhys, if he’d somehow sustained less visible injuries...well, Jack had no qualms about beating this alien fucker to death.

Speaking of.

“What’d you do with our guest?” Jack asked, lip curling in disgust as he practically spat the last word.

“Had some soldiers lock it up in R & D,” Nisha replied, glancing over at Jack as she struggled to keep up.

“Perfect,” Jack said, his mind already wandering to the wonderful methods of torture he was about to inflict-- after he made sure Rhys was okay, of course.

Jack returned to hovering once they arrived at the medical station, snapping at the staff when they tried to force him to sit in the waiting room.

“Not happening, princess,” he said, looming over the nurse who was blocking his entrance to the actual ward.

The man was clutching his clipboard as if it would somehow shield him from Jack’s fury, and Jack watched with pure, angry satisfaction at the way the nurse’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

“R-right,” he stammered, finally realizing that he had no choice in the matter if he valued his life. “Rhys is in the room at the end of the hall.”

Jack grinned, his smile all teeth and most definitely still threatening. “Thanks, cupcake. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The nurse opted to keep his mouth shut, a smart move on his part. He stepped to the side so that Jack could pass, the other man already heading down the hall at a pace that rivaled even the most talented of mall walkers.

The doctor looked surprised when he yanked the door open, although she had enough common sense not to say anything. She turned back to the task of setting up an IV for Rhys, who was still unconscious. His cybernetic arm had been removed, the socket bruised like he hadn’t removed the appendage in months. Jack supposed he probably hadn’t.

Rhys’ face was also covered in bruises, the majority of which surrounded his neural port. His eyes remained closed, his chapped lips hanging slightly apart as he breathed.

“What happened?” Jack finally asked, folding his arms over his chest lest he let his anxiety show. “Is he okay?”

The doctor glanced up, studying Jack’s expression in a manner best described as clinical. She’d finished affixing the bag of fluids to the needle in Rhys’ arm, and had moved onto the task of disinfecting his bloodied hand.

“He’s severely dehydrated,” she said, gesturing to the IV in explanation. “Probably malnourished too.”

Jack nodded, tapping his foot impatiently. “But he’ll be fine, right?”

The doctor began to wrap a bandage around his flesh hand, her attention focused as she spoke. “The physical injuries appear to be minor, but we won’t know about the state of his cybernetics until he wakes up.”

“And that’ll be soon?” Jack said, his question tinted with the unspoken threat of what he’d do if the statement wasn’t true.

The woman sighed, brushing her hands off on her lab coat as she stood. “Rhys’ body has suffered severe trauma. He needs rest and nutrients.”

Jack frowned as he processed her response. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“The human body is incredibly self-preserving,” she said, unflinching under Jack’s gaze. “Give him time to heal.”

That still didn’t provide the answer Jack was looking for, but it didn’t seem like the doctor was going to provide anything else.

“Let me know when he wakes up,” he said, turning on his heel.

He assumed the doctor had nodded, as she seemed smart enough to know what was good for her. He didn’t have time to look back, though.

He had a prisoner to attend to.

[lavend-ler]

just been thinkin how,,, Rhysothy is just such a god tier ship

they both have been through a lot, suffered so much trauma induced by their years at Hyperion and especially influenced by Jack. yet they both survived and have a chance to start anew in a completely different world. the question is - how to even do this? how to cut yourself from years of suffering?

they meet each other on Promethea. Rhys is successfully running Atlas, Tim just came back from the casino. Timothy needs help and well, due to requests Rhys is the one to provide it. there's shock at the beginning, unnerved stares. but what else can he do, when he sees Timothy in such dire need. he’s not the one to turn down someone in need, if he knows they are on his side. so he gives him everything Timothy needs to survive

it's not easy for them. Rhys has a hard time looking at Timothy's face - esp without the mask he was forced to bear. once again making him so much more aware of Jack's atrocities. Timothy isn’t sure if he can trust a Hyperion, after being forced to live in an actual time capsule. but that also makes them realize that, after all there's more that connects them rather than divides them. they share stories abt their pasts and become tentative friends bc of it

the more they spend time together, the more they realize just how much they care. Rhys cares so much for ppl who are important to him. and while Tim is becoming more and more important, he is ready to defend him with all he has. he himself is surprised but everything abt Timothy makes it so easy for him. how can someone like him be just the easiest person to get along with and to spend so much time with? Rhys doesn’t dwell on it - he just enjoys the time they share together

Timothy too, at first thrown into this crazy world, starts to accommodate again. he joins the Crimson Lance, ready to become someone Jack would never be. he finds friends and understanding. it’s hard, ppl still tend to look at him and think the worst. but he knows better to get it to his head. he becomes confident, he knows who he is. and often Timothy thinks to himself... he can never not thank Rhys for helping him and becoming his friend

and with time, they fall for each other. Rhys falls for Timothy bc he’s adamant, persistent, funny and sweet. there is no trace of Jack left in him, no matter what everyone says. Rhys falls for his good heart and admires him for trying over and over despite the cruelty of the world. he loves hearing his stories, his heart trembles at the sound of his laugh. he loves him for always trying and making tomorrow his own, no matter what the world thinks

the same happens to Timothy. he falls for Rhys' caring side, his inventiveness and how he fixes the world around him. the little perks of his, no one else really sees under that CEO mask. Timothy realizes he's not the only one who was forced to wear one and how wrong he was to assume the worst abt him. cause Rhys is more than his insecurities. he’s loyal, dedicated, a know-it-all and always knows what to do. he loves Rhys’ technical knowledge and his soft side as well. he knows each part makes Rhys the love of his life

they fall for each other slowly but surely. it's what they both really wanted - someone to understand and no one else understands them better. they help each other grow, shed all the insecurities and insincerities they show to others. cause with each other, they don't need any barriers or masks, they can simply be themselves. after years of suffering, they cut their trauma by challenging it, looking straight into it. clearing all the doubts, burying everything Hyperion took from them. to build something new with each other, start living not surviving. Timothy sees how Rhys wants to help everyone around him. and he joins him knowing not only Rhys helped him, but vice versa too

it all starts with that one fateful day when Timothy goes to Rhys to give him a literal hand. and it ends with their hands held together, never to leave one another

tl;dr or I just want these two dudes to interact in a future dlc idk

[maxbegone]

Tagged by @captain-rhys Rules: Tag followers who you wanna know better. Name: Ally 
Nickname(s): Al, Al-Bal, AlPal, Booyah, which is a school nickname that's too long to explain. 
Gender: Female 
Star Sign: Aquarius 
Height: 5'3" 
Sexual Orientation: Straight 
Hogwarts House: I've gotten Hufflepuff so many times, but I'm such a mix. Used to think I belonged in Gryffindor but now I think Slytherin. 
Favorite Animal: Dogs and owls 
Average Hours of Sleep: Maybe upwards of five straight through the night. 
Cats or Dogs: Dogs 
Favorite Fictional Character(s): (fuck) Rhys, Nate, Elena, Sam, Fiona, Ellie, Joel, Handsome Jack, Tiny Tina, literally anyone from Harry Potter, Max, Chloe 
Number of Blankets: Two, so a comforter and a sheet 
Favorite Singer/Band: Broken Bells, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Julien Baker, Troy Baker, Tyco, Tobu 
Dream Trip: I've always wanted to do a huge trip to England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales all in one. I'd also love to go to Japan. 
Dream Jobs: Something in fashion, preferably styling and maybe have my own line or something one day. Although I really want to write. People-my mother even-have crushed that writing dream so much. 
When was this blog created: Literally this past November, I don't even know. 
Current Number of Followers: A pathetic amount. 
What made you decide to make a Tumblr account: I've had several over the years, but I'll focus on this one specifically. I was up super late one night and I wanted to start editing again, and then I said to myself "I don't want to post on that old blog, that's way too cringey" and so I made this account! But this is by far the best I've made. You guys are so welcoming and open in the gaming community, and (so far) there has been no drama, so much better than my previous communities. Not to mention I can geek out without judgment. So thank you all for being so welcoming! I know I tag you guys a lot but I'm just happy to have been welcomed and feel acknowledged. @nisha-the-law-bringer @hyperion-corp @nakarkos @snoringspacegoat @timetogetfunkyrhysie

[snappedsky]

Borderlands: Skies the Bodyguard 2

After getting stranded in a Pandoran desert, Rhys and Vaughn- and Jack- run into someone interesting. Previous! Next!

--

Chapter 1

           The demotion of the century; a ten million dollar Vault Key deal gone sour; said ten million dollars blown to shreds; his old employers trying to kill him; the AI ghost of a corporate dictator- and his hero- living in his head.

           To sum it up, Rhys’ trip to Pandora has not gone well.      

           The only good thing that’s happened the last couple days is his best friend, Vaughn, actually believes him about his Handsome Jack ‘situation’. He may have been sceptical at first, but they’ve known each other a long time. They can tell when the other’s telling the truth.

           But that doesn’t amount to much now, with the two- three- of them stranded in the middle of a Pandoran desert.

           Now they’re resting under a large rock in an effort to stay out of the sun. Every so often, Rhys looks up at the Hyperion space station, Helios, to see if his old friend, Yvette, has sent them a car yet. But it’s quiet.

           Rhys sighs and rubs the back of his neck with his robot hand. The cool metal feels nice.

           “How do you think the girls are doing?” Vaughn asks. He’s sitting beside Rhys, staring at the sky.

           “Oh, I’m sure they’re fine,” Rhys replies, “they’re tough.”

           They’re talking about Fiona and Sasha, born-and-raised Pandorans they met through the botched Vault Key deal. They were working on finding a new Vault together when Helios attacked them, splitting them up.

           “Hopefully they make it to Hollow Point alright,” Vaught says.

           “Ugh, come ooonnn,” Handsome Jack groans. He’s been pacing back and forth in front of them for the last couple minutes, looking not unlike an agitated cat. Rhys has been trying to ignore him but once he starts talking, it’s a little difficult.

           “I’m dying here, cupcake,” Jack whines, “literally dying again- of boredom! Let’s get going, let’s do something.”

           “You expect us to walk to Hollow Point?” Rhys asks drily.

           “Actually, I expect you to walk to Old Haven,” he replies, “that would make much better sense strategically. But anything would be better than just sitting here.”

           Rhys sighs and looks past the hologram to try to ignore him. Who knew Handsome Jack was so whiny?

           He spots something moving around the outcropping of rocks across from them and jolts. Two skags have emerged from their den. They notice the pair of ex-Hyperion workers and snarl.

           “Uh, Rhys?” Vaughn says fearfully as they jump to their feet. The skags stalk towards them, drool dripping from their chops.

           “Finally some action,” Jack says excitedly, clapping his hands together.

           “Heh, uh, g-good boys,” Rhys nervously says as he slowly draws his stun baton.

           One of the skags roars and charges. Rhys and Vaughn scream.

           Something suddenly leaps off the rock they’re against, tackling the skag to the ground. Even the second skag is surprised.

           Whoever they are, they’re definitely human. At least, for the most part. They keep the thrashing skag pinned to the dirt and stab it multiple times in the head with a machete.

           The second skag gets over its bewilderment and charges the mysterious person. They start to turn but Rhys responds faster.

           “Hey!” he exclaims and lunges forward, jabbing the skag with his stun baton. It yips as it flies off, hitting the ground hard.

           The person looks with Rhys with surprise and he flinches back. They’re wearing a Psycho mask.

           They quickly hop off the first skag and run over to finish off the second with their knife. Once they’re sure both beasts are dead, they stand up straight and face Rhys.

           “A Psycho,” Vaughn whimpers as he cowers behind his friend.

           “A female Psycho,” Jack adds, “never seen that before. S’kinda hot.”

           The person definitely looks like a woman with a mess of long, curly brown hair. She’s wearing a single black boot and black pants with the right leg cut off at the thigh, showing off her robotic peg leg made of exposed scrap parts. She’s also got on a black shirt and a brown trench coat with the right sleeve tied at the shoulder as she’s missing her arm. Her Psycho mask looks cheap and handmade, with a painted blue Vault symbol crossing over the left eye. There’s a hole for her left eye but a patch covers where her right eye would be.

           She scans Rhys and Vaughn appraisingly, lingering on the Hyperion logo on Rhys’ vest, his stun baton, and his one boot-less foot.

           “Uh,” Rhys coughs, breaking the tension. “Thank you for saving us.”

           “Yeah, thanks,” Vaughn adds, “you-you’re not gonna e-eat our eyeballs…are you?”

           The suspicious glare in the Psycho’s eye seems to soften. “Nah, eyeballs aren’t my thing.”

           “That voice,” Jack muses.

           Rhys and Vaughn watch with surprise as she puts her machete away in her coat and takes off her mask. She’s got a nasty, jagged scar that cuts straight through her right eyelid to her temple. She looks kind of familiar.

           “Skies!?” Jack exclaims in disbelief.

           “Skies?” Rhys questions, glancing at him before looking back at the girl. “Skies the Bodyguard?”

           She shakes her head. “Ex-bodyguard.”