#lord shaxx imagine

[morbid-mary]

Imagine

Some children of the Last City ambushing Lord Shaxx in a snowball fight…

[cats-and-fiction]

Shaxx s/0 " let me stay please " prompt

Years later it's here. An answer to your request. I had already wrote something but it didn't safe due to an error and...yeah. Here it is. It's not one of my most prized works but I'm getting back into writing so I hope you still enjoy it.

"let me stay" Prompt

It had been a chilly day when you and Shaxx had taken a little walk in the tower. You had proposed a break to him from the whole crucible vendoring and just wanted to have some time with him. Though your little chat was suddenly interrupted when out of nowhere you heared ships entering the atmosphere. After a second with no sound anywhere you two saw the giant ship come closer towards the city and the round form of the traveler. A Cabal ship you never had seen anywhere. Shaxx hand rested atop your shoulder when he slowly pulled you towards him, hand resting on the gun on his hip. Your hands reached into position yourself when you Ghost transmitted your gun to you. Both of you faced the ship as it got closer and mere second later the first shot was fired. Somewhere in the distance explosions erupted and two felt the earth shaking under your feet. "Go into the city and help as many civilians as you can", his deep voice rang out to you but you only shook your head. You knew Shaxx wanted to get you out of harms way, keeping you safe and protected as the city itself now appeared not as dangerously as the tower which was now attacked almost every second.

"I'm staying. You know I can help here too, there are already hundreds of Guardians down there.", was the only thing you could say now before the first Cabal drop pods crashed in the tower, two almost right beside you. "Let me stay", you could hear Shaxx grumble under his helmet but you were right. You were capable and the tower was almost empty. In the end he was thankful you had stayed, if it wasn't for you he didn't belief he could have kept all the civilians safe that looked for help and were trapped in the tower.

[warlordfelwinter]

it's crazy that bungie did season of the worthy and then just stopped making a video game and there's been nothing since then

[the-light-finds-its-way]

Imagine that when a Guardian is risen for the first time, the only scar they bear is if they were killed by some unnatural force. If they're shot, they are left with a bullet wound. If they're stabbed, they're left with a stab wound.

One Human, he is risen by his Ghost as a Titan. Armor is fabricated onto his body, so he doesn't see what he looks like beneath. No less, the man fights his way through as per his Ghost's instructions, and makes his way to the Tower.

It's there that Shaxx brings him to the armory, and gives him some better armor to wear.

As the new Titan takes off what he wears, his bare torso shows.

Lord Shaxx nods, pointing to the man's chest. "Those are brave scars you bear, new Light. Wear them with pride and honor."

The Titan looks down at his chest. Beneath the breastbone, one long thin scar stretches from beneath his left arm to beneath his right, as though open once to cut away something within. He doesn't know what this scar is from, only that he apparently died getting it.

No less, the Titan armors up, and then spends the day training, practicing with his newfound Titan powers. He's a brute, with immense fury and strength, as any Titan would be. When done for the day, he goes to a small food stand in the Tower to grab a bite to eat. There are open terminals, which he makes his way toward, then begins searching.

"Lower breastbone scar" is what he searches for.

The results show up in mass quantities. All of them are about transgender FTM top surgery, and general gender affirming care.

The man next searches "transgender FTM". Once more the results give copious amounts of information. He sees that transgender is defined as somebody who was born differently than they feel their true gender is. They can choose to transition however they wish, or not at all.

Looking at his chest, knowing the scar is beneath his armor, the man's heart sinks, beats slowing near to a halt. He grips the terminal as his mind swarms with thoughts, and tears fill his eyes.

He never got to live as himself. He went for top surgery to fix a body that was his and make it liveable. And he never made it for whatever reason. He died during surgery. And he never got to live his life as himself.

The man breaks down sobbing, unable to handle this realization.

Why? Why couldn't he have lived his life as himself? Why did he have to die? Why—

The man types into the terminal what Guardians are. He sees they are people who once lived as mortals, but have died and been chosen by a Ghost to be risen, and live once more as defenders of the universe. These Guardians are wiped clean of their memories entirely. They remember basic functions, like breathing, eating, sleeping, speaking, and so on. But the reason why they maintain no memories is unknown. However, Guardians themselves say it's for one reason, and one reason only.

Guardians make their own destiny.

The man looks at himself. He looks at the terminal and his search on transness. Many trans people speak online about their anguish, rage, and sorrow, directed at themselves for being born "wrong", and that this anguish follows them forever until death. They cannot be free of it so easily.

But the man remembers none of this. He doesn't remember any self-hate, any self deprecation. He is, to himself, a man. Just a man without memories of pain and sorrow. Though he now feels this anger because he could not live his life as himself before, he thinks.

He is free of pain and self loathing. He is free of his past. He does not remember his life before being risen as his male self. He has no regrets or anger toward his past, only such feelings directed at the universe. But he thinks for a moment, about Guardians and destiny, that he is free of his past to create a new legacy of his own. And it's there he realizes it all.

He died during surgery, and was risen to live free as himself. Free of pain. Free of sorrow. Free of everything bad. He is free to live. Just live. Nothing holding him back. He is free.

The man's tears stop, and he looks at himself again. Finally, he smiles, his arms reaching around him as he holds his own body gently. With love.

He may not know who he was, but he doesn't want to. Deadnames stay dead. Dead selves stay dead. And in their place, he lives. A man. Through and through, not a doubt in his mind. And he will create a new destiny for himself as such.

[i-hug-exploder-shanks]

Hello! I come to request for a Lord Shaxx poem <3

I AM READY! I WAS HOPING FOR THIS ONE!

Roses are Red Bruises are Blue Go play more Crucible Before I make you

....

Okay okay but for real

A beauty borne of flame's ash Grown in the shade of night Ne'er have I seen such such a flash Than when I witnessed your light

The might of the sun locked in a smile The mystery of void in your eyes Resisting your arc-sparked touch is a trial And the cause of my most longing of sighs

He is a helpless romantic. Get this man some flowers. But I also think he's more likely to recite other's poetry than to attempt to write his own. Please imagine him spending hours late at night asking his ghost what the hell rhymes with smile as he tries to write this for his beloved.

[stoshasaurus]

right. I need to add some fucking context to this.

My current pfp in one of my discord servers is one of my recent drawings of Felwinter. I was talking about my desire to go out and get donuts this morning, particularly a banana Bismarck (basically a banana-flavored Boston cream donut, if you asked me to sum it up) from this local donut shop. I expressed that I enjoy having characters as my pfp because I imagine that they are saying my words, and it made me wonder how Felwinter would feel about donuts for breakfast, and banana bismarcks. I promised that once I had returned from my expedition to acquire said donuts, that I would write a short snippet about Felwinter eating a banana Bismarck.

So, here it is. An extremely silly, probably HIGHLY inaccurate mini-fic about Shaxx bringing Felwinter donuts for breakfast.

Disgustingly sweet (both literally and figuratively) Felshaxx fluff ahead.

Felwinter only finds himself sleeping in when he is visiting Shaxx. The Iron Lord never sleeps at all; he doesn’t need to, and there is always work to be done. He often finds himself quite busy in the evenings, scouring submind data or organizing lessons for his new student, activities that he obsesses over long after dusk, when any ordinary man would retire for the night. But endless work and looming threats be damned, Shaxx has an absurdly comfortable bed, with far too many pillows and a mattress so soft that Felwinter’s frame sinks immediately into it like a stone in a pond. He’d never known he needed a soft bed with a mountain of pillows. It has become one of the millions of little things he looks forward to when it comes to visiting his beloved in the Last Safe City of Humanity

His infrequent holiday stays in the City have been growing in length recently. In the past, he was lucky to have a single evening to himself to spend, a few scant hours spent being shown all of the spectacular things Shaxx detailed to him in his letters. Now, he is allotted more time, sometimes a week or more, once or twice a month. There was never any announcement made; Felwinter highly suspects that Radegast had been pestered into lessening the burdens of his duties by those few nosy Lords who had deciphered his unspoken relationship with Shaxx. Absolute wretches, all of them. He cannot complain.

He sleeps in more frequently now; Shaxx wakes earlier than him, often unable to step away from his post for longer than a few hours. But he never leaves without soft murmurs goodbye and a few kisses pressed to his face. Felspring teases him relentlessly when he finds himself brushing his hand over where Shaxx’s had been. He swats at her before dozing off for the next hour or so, Arc energy buzzing across his frame long after the Warlord has gone, soft flickers of static mimicking well-known, well-loved fingertips.

When he does finally wake up, it is to a still-empty house. If he makes a small noise of disappointment, he will never admit to it. He makes the bed, dresses himself, and opens the windows to let the sun and the air in, admiring the cityscape in the distance. It truly is as marvelous as Shaxx had made it out to be. A place where flowers bloom and birds sing, and Lightless people sleep without guns in their hands. Shaxx had entrusted Felwinter (and Felwinter alone. Oh, isn’t that a precious thought?) with a small, messy manuscript of hand-written poetry. Felwinter had smiled as Shaxx asked for his aid in revising it, hiding his apprehension in his hands as he wrung them, his feet as he shuffled them, his eyes as he averted them from his face. The very same manuscript lay on the kitchen counter, pockmarked with notes and bookmarks, the pages marked with fresh ink in the margins where Felwinter had endlessly praised Shaxx’s prose (in a much more legible script). Where words often failed the Iron Lord, his writing never did. He confessed his love through paragraphs of detailed interpretation and literary analysis. Poetry of his own.

Felwinter is in the process of writing more notes in the manuscript when Shaxx finally returns to the house. Felwinter turns to greet him– there is a tray of twin coffee cups in one hand and a small box cradled in the other, another bag tucked in his elbow.

Shaxx’s Ghost graciously removes the man’s helmet in time for him to press a kiss to his forehead. “Morning,” he rumbles as he deposits his goodies on the counter.

Felwinter absorbs the matching icons printed on the bag and the box. Some kind of bakery, evidently. He shuts the manuscript and sets it aside, taking one of the cups when Shaxx hands it to him. “Good morning,” he replies. “How goes the Crucible?”

“Astoundingly boring. I have no exciting clips to share.” The man sounds almost wounded. Felwinter curses whichever Guardian neglected to throw enough grenades to elicit excitement in the Crucible Handler. “The new Lights tend to try their luck during the summer months. I almost feel bad watching them get decimated by some of our veteran fireteams.”

“One would think the loss would motivate them to try harder.”

Shaxx laughs as he opens the box and examines its contents, out of Felwinter’s line of sight. “It does! That’s the thing about the newly Risen. They haven’t learned what quitting is yet.”

Felwinter does not protest when Shaxx plucks something out of the box and presses it insistently into his hand. It is a soft pastry, glazed with a sweet white frosting and sprinkled with what looks like chunks of cookies. Shaxx grabs an identical item out of the box, but his eyes are on Felwinter rather than the thing in his hand.

The Iron Lord puzzles over it, tilting it carefully so as not to spill the toppings, and stares at Shaxx. “What is this?”

“It’s a donut.” He shrugs with one shoulder. “It’s called a Bismarck. A banana Bismarck, to be exact.” He sounds overly proud of himself as he tilts his chin triumphantly. Felwinter huffs at the display.

Felspring hovers over his shoulder, studying the treat curiously. Felwinter wishes that she had a mouth so she could try it herself. In her stead, he slowly takes a bite, watching Shaxx mirror him with equal trepidation. He cranes his neck over the counter and cups his hand under the Bismarck, making sure no debris falls to the floor. The kitchen is flooded with an oddly pregnant silence as they chew thoughtfully in tandem with one another.

Felwinter signifies the end of his chewing and swallowing with “It’s good.”

“I concur,” Shaxx says. He is still chewing, and the words are muffled as he cleverly keeps his mouth as closed as possible. Crumbs speckle the corners of his lips. “Very sweet.”

“Obscenely,” he remarks. Shaxx barks a laugh.

Felwinter takes another bite. He feels like something, a loose screw, or a damaged cog, clicks back into place. He plucks a cookie off of the top of the thing and pops it into his mouth. It crunches loudly in the metal hollow of his mouth, and the sound drowns out every other thought in his head. Shaxx chuckles at him again, looking very strangely infatuated, and Felwinter cannot stop the lights that dot his chest and his neck from flickering in diffidence.

When his mouth dries up from consuming the pastry, Felwinter reaches for the coffee. It is strong, straight black just the way he likes it, and pleasantly hot rather than scalding. He drinks deeply and feels his plates thaw from the warmth of it, his mouth, his throat, his chest, and his stomach, each system absorbing it individually. The bitterness is a perfect complement to the sweetness of the Bismarck. Shaxx watches him overtly, an earnest tenderness visible in his eyes, unhurried anticipation visible in his open posture. Silently, he seeks appraisal.

“It’s very good,” Felwinter murmurs. All of the words he knows feel inadequate to describe his feelings, so he resorts to simplicity instead. “Thank you.”

Shaxx physically sags against the counter with what Felwinter assumes is relief. An uncharacteristically bashful grin pulls at the corners of his mouth. “I’m glad. I wasn’t sure you’d like it.”

The Exo’s eyes sparkle with his version of a coy smile. “Do I not strike you as the type to enjoy banana-flavored sweets, Lord Shaxx?”

“No, Fel. Not at all.”

As if to prove him wrong, he takes another bite of the Bismarck. It is so sickeningly sweet that he is afraid it will somehow rot his metal mouth.

——

Playing Nice has ruined my fucking life. I’m so sorry.

[thewildnopeboat]

Zavala, with a Manila folder draped over his face: Ikora, why is the Guardian causing problems for Lord Shaxx?

Ikora, sighing and looking over: Imagine a tiger caught in a cage. If given enough enrichment, the tiger will be calm. Take away the enrichment, it causes issues for its own amusement.

Zavala, looks over at her in confusion after removing the folder from his face: Ikora, what in the light is a Tiger?

Ikora: I keep forgetting you're not human...

[jimmy-carmine]

Today, I am mostly getting excited for new armour and shaders letting me make a new version of my Guardian. I'd stopped playing Destiny 1 with the Taken King expansion and didn't get into Destiny 2 until Lightfall/Season of the Deep.

This is my first serious foray into PvP since Halo Reach was the big thing, and I'm really enjoying the gameplay for Destiny 2. It feels challenging, fun but also fair.

Meet the oh-so imaginatively named Jimmy, I nearly always try and create a SI anytime a game lets me customise a character. After all, what's a power fantasy if I don't get to live it.

As I couldn't port my Destiny 1 Titan (an Awoken Jimmy) to Destiny 2, this Human Jimmy is a new-light from after the Red War in my head-canon.

With no idea what's really been going on prior to his ressurection, and folk getting him muddled with the Young Wolf on occasion isn't helping. What do you mean I've killed multiple gods before? Who's Oryx? Savathun only counts as one, right? He's secretly convinced the Drifter is responsible for this, because he knows it winds him up.

Jimmy refuses to recognise his daddy-issues, and claims he is just concientious and dutiful as an explanation for him throwing himself into missions, and is nothing to do with his desparate need for approval from the Titan-Tower-Trinity that is Commander Zavala, Lord Shaxx and Lord Saladin.

His Ghost, Buddy, just gives him a stern look whenever his denials get too effusive.

[lordshaxxhandler]

It’s officially here! The return of The Burden of The Light! Please enjoy the rewritten and retelling of my own world of Destiny. I am so excited to share!

MASTER POST

Character Bio’s below

Name: Thera Wylie

Pronouns: She/Her

Eyes: Green

Hair: Dark Brown

Height: 5’10

Race: Human

Class: Lightless Civilian, Amanda’s right hand/assistant ops coordinator for the vanguard.

Love Interest: Lord Shaxx

Best friend: Amanda Holiday

Personality: Fun, outgoing, fearless, confidant, & girly.

Fun fact. Thera has an Exo arm starting from her elbow.

…

Name: Celeste

Pronouns: She/Her

Eyes: Gold/Yellow

Hair: Snow White

Height: 5’5

Race: Awoken

Class: Warlock

Ghost Name: Astral (Female)

Coms code name: Cityhawk 723

Best Friend: Ikora, Behemoth-29, Siph, & anyone willing to get to know her.

Love Interest: Lord Saladin

Personality: Kind, caring to the point of worrying about others before herself, & confident almost ignorantly. A bit pretentious.

…

Name: Behemoth-29

Pronouns: He/Him

Eyes: white

Height: 6’6

Race: Exo

Class: Hunter

Ghosts Name: Flare (Female)

Best friend: Siph & Celeste

Personality: doesn’t talk hardly at all unless necessary, Very intimidating but intentional and not, protective of his fireteam and friends, hides in the shadows and keeps to himself.

…

Name: Siph

Pronouns: He/Him

Eyes: Blue

Height: 6’0

Race: Awoken

Class: Titan

Ghosts Name: Spector (male)

Best friend: Behemoth-29

Personality: Friendly, funny but intimidating, focused to complete every mission perfectly, extremely protective of fireteam members.

…

Name: Momo-7

Pronouns: she/her

Eyes: pink

Height: 5’7

Race: Exo

Class: Hunter

Ghosts Name: Usagi (male)

Love interest: Uzec

Best friend: Sage & Usagi

Personality: fun, bubbly, kind. A crucible star, her name is well known in the community of the Last City. She has a large fan base and even does some PR for the Vanguard on occasion.

…

Name: Uzec

Pronouns: He/Him

Eyes: Orange

Height: 6’3

Race: Awoken

Class: Titan

Ghosts Name: Azami (female)

Love Interest: Momo-7

Personality: Extremely outgoing, pretentious, sees himself above others, friendly, nice, possessive and materialistic.

…

Name: Sage

Pronouns: She/Her

Eyes: Orange

Height: 5’9

Race: Awoken

Class: Warlock

Ghosts Name: Lavender

Best friend: Momo-7

Personality: Sweet, loves to study rocks, crystals and bones. She has some Ahamkara bones she likes to listen to on occasion. Finds different materials in the wilds that she believes can help heal and send you into different worlds.

…

Name: Buck-2

Pronouns: He/Him

Eyes: Blue

Height: 6’0

Race: exo

Class: Titan

Ghosts Name: June Bug (female)

Good friends: June Bug, Devrim, Marc, & Hawthorn.

Personality: Friendly but intimidating, don’t touch his things, loves his animals and his homestead, prefers the rogue lightbarer life than the city life.

…

(More to come…)

Check out this link to learn about these characters lore

…

Lord Shaxx & his Ghost Moxie

Since the helmet always stays on, for written and story purposes. This is my idea of how Lord Shaxx could look. So, for this fic, this is Lord Shaxx, but feel free to imagine him any way you’d like. This is just my version or idea. Also since there is no cannon name, shell or personality for his ghost, I created one for better story flow. Please meet Moxie, a sassy ghost who isn’t afraid to match her Guardians energy.

[a-driftamongopenstars]

I’ve been really sick lately, how about an solar hunter exo who is suffering with a virus (maybe overheating or glitching) trying to play it off with shaxx and crow?

hey anon :) apologies for a late prompt fill, I hope that you are feeling better ❤ and I hope this ficlet makes you smile, it took a somewhat silly direction :D

For a few days now it has truly been a struggle to keep an eye out on the Guardian. Crow is not sure what happened to them, but if they are not well, they are trying their best to hide it - and failing terribly. Strange glitches in their movements, their voice, their behaviour. If Crow knew any better, he would say they caught a virus.

Well, maybe he does know better.

It all comes to a standstill when the Guardian insists on joining an upcoming match in the Crucible arena.

"Lord Shaxx!" Crow says with exasparation, holding the Guardian by the arm. They flinch and twitch even as he holds onto them, which only works in favour of Crow's plea.

"What is it, Hunters?" Shaxx replies, turning to face the pair away from a wall of screens that showcase different Crucible locations and timetables.

"Would you tell my friend here that they are in no state to play the Crucible?"

Lord Shaxx considers the Guardian for a moment. His face is unreadable under the helmet, but Crow imagines in his mind that his eyes narrow and his mouth is narrow thin as he studies the Exo.

"What happened to them?"

"I can hear you, you know," the Guardian replies, their voice not quite their own. Hoarse and strange, it sounds nothing like Crow is used to. "And I'm perfectly capable of playing the Crucible. Right away!"

They do a finger guns gesture, to which Crow emits another desperate sigh.

"No, you are really not. Half an hour ago you were changing all your LED-colours. Two hours ago you had sparkles flying from your ear."

"Party mood?"

Crow's gaze is daggers.

Shaxx' heavy hand suddenly presses against the Exo's forehead. If the situation weren't so odd and frightening, Crow would have laughed.

"No Crucible for you, Hunter. You have a fever!"

His voice booms through the room like a final judgement, and Crow feels a sense of relief wash over him. It wasn't in his head after all nor was it in his imagination that the Guardian was not quite themselves. And with some knowledge in hand, they could at least find a way to treat the illness.

"Not a fever!" the Guardian shakes their head, which proceeds to twitch slightly to the right. "My Solar abilities! Here!"

Before Crow can say anything, before Shaxx has a moment to react, the Guardian's arm stretches outwards and a fan of burning knives flies from between their fingers into the nearby wall, taking one of the screens out of commission.

A pause lingers between the three before Shaxx's booming voice breaks it.

"It seems that no Crucible will be played at Bannerfall today. Take him to bed, Hunter, and make sure to get someone to check on his workings before the Guardian overheats entirely."

Crow smiles a little and nods. His arm slides around the Guardian's again, pulling him out of the room and away from the arena. As they leave the premises, the Guardian leans to whisper to Crow.

"Is Lord Shaxx saying I'm hot?"

Crow is lost for words.

[phantomwarrior12]

WIP Wednesday - Eternity (Back in Time Continuation)

How many lifetimes has he waited?

Warlords fell. The Fallen came. The Tower was built.

How much longer must Lord Shaxx endure?

He's beginning to wonder if he imagined those two days all those years ago. A Hunter with armor that bore the sigil of the Crucible. A Hunter who met his volatile nature with tenderness and something bordering on affection.

Had he imagined her?

She'd given no name, just a promise to one day meet him in the Tower. 

He's searched the faces of New Lights, strained to hear a voice he can hardly recall beyond a whisper in his heart.

Perhaps she was never rezzed because of her journey back in time? Perhaps they unknowingly altered something.

Or perhaps he has not been patient enough.

She said a few hundred years. It's been that and more but still…perhaps she was vague on purpose. Perhaps she hopes to alter their course after seeing what he had been. 

She doesn't know how much he'd changed. How desperately he'd wanted to be the Titan she fell in love with. Because if he had been so fortunate as to gain her favor and affection? He wants to be ready. He wants her to know he learned mercy and rigorously worked to try and eliminate as many threats as he could.

Because if there are fewer threats, there is less of a fight for her to shoulder.

In the brief period of their acquaintance, he gathered one thing from that Gunslinger: she bears the weight of the world on her shoulders and she lets no one else take it from her.

He finds himself pacing. There are no matches this late in the afternoon and he's set about trying to reason out how much of her could have been a hallucination and how much was genuine.

Time travel is an odd thing. After so long with no trace of proof, one starts to doubt if it ever truly came to pass. 

Shaxx had gone as far as to consult Osiris before he was banished - desperate to know if she'd been real or not. Osiris explained the situation; how if she'd been able to avoid leaving a footprint in the past, things would progress as they would have otherwise. But if she hadn't, Shaxx would have no way of knowing if the timeline had been altered.

But Osiris had been clear on one thing - Shaxx cannot tell the Guardian what transpired until after those events have passed. It could alter her path and subsequently, the timeline.

Saladin, of course, had reassured him that the Iron Lord recalls the Hunter but it brings the Warlord no comfort.

He spends so much time here; watching, waiting, hoping he doesn't miss her arrival.

He's lost track of the years now since the Tower was first built.

He even tried to track down her Ghost but evidently, not choosing a name for himself made it exponentially harder to find the Little Light. If he's been in the Tower, Shaxx cannot find him.

It's maddening - knowing she's out there and being powerless to find her.

He loathes it.

Shaxx shakes his head, clearing away the mangled catastrophes of emotions and thoughts. He should close up, head home for the night. No more matches tonight and there's a few earlier ones in the morning.

Rest, yes. Perhaps she'll visit him in his dreams if not in reality.

The Warlord sets about powering down monitors, leaving a display of the leader board up over the alcove for late night Guardians to review in preparation for their next matches. They could use the motivation, some of these rookies leave much to be desired in the way of combat and field awareness.

As he turns to address Arcite, he takes note of what looks like a New Light descending the staircase. A Hunter, armor battered and already littered with singe marks. Her head swings around, her Ghost materializing beside her and speaking to her softly.

He starts to divert his gaze, to resume his task when the Ghost’s voice captures his attention entirely.

“We’ll go talk to Cayde-6. He’ll help us get sorted out.”

That…voice.

He turns back, brow furrowed as he watches her move. Her stride holds a degree of confidence yet, somehow, uncertainty. Her gaze moves around the space until it locks with Lord Shaxx’s. She gives a tentative wave and Shaxx’s shoulders draw back and offers a nod.

Would approaching her be too forward? Too intimidating?

The first time I come to the Tower, you invite me to spar with you. That, my Titan, is how we meet.

He can’t afford to change things, can he?

But he’s not even sure he’s right. It’s been so many years, surely he could mistake a Ghost’s voice–

“Do you…have a moment?”

The Hunter had approached him, standing a few fleeting feet from him and Shaxx is frozen.

Traveler, he can’t mistake her voice. His chest clenches as his eyes settle on the New Light before him. Her helmet is still in place but he would recognize that anxious shift from foot to foot anywhere.

She’s here. At last.

"Of course," his head tilts, willing a sense of composure into place that he certainly doesn't feel. He has to remind himself she doesn't know him yet. That she is fresh out of the grave and they haven't met.

He hasn't held her in an old tent. Or watched over her while she slept. Or bore witness to her ingenuity in a fight.

Not yet. Years from now, she will do all that and more but for now? For now, they are perfect strangers meeting for the first time.

----------------

[savyir-genesizz-the-wizard]

Tagged by my mutual and sister in arms (ADHD), @flowers-of-io

3 ships: Zaiatl (duh), Drifteris and Lord Shaxx/Lady Efrideet/Saladin Forge ("look at my head rarepair, boy") (also they need a ship name so bad)

First ever ship: Actually, I never really liked shipping, unless it's a media that I really like. But I remember shipping Russia and Canada from Hetalia. Yeah, stone me

Last song: Purple Disco Machine - Playbox

Last movie: I think that must have been Glass Onion. And the last TV series I watched was the TV adaptation of "The Peasants"

Currently reading: I've found some old manual on management of groups, so I've been browsing that lately. I'm also reading Lovecraft's "The Dunwich Horror".

Currently watching: Nothing really. I might rewatch "Our Flag Means Death" tho. I mean I watch this reality show about veterinarians called "The Incredible Dr. Pol" but not very regularly. It's pretty neat, I rarely watch reality TV but I like this one.

Currently consuming: Apple slices and candy bar (Prince Polo)

Currently craving: Some Crucible (or maybe Iron Banner) and sushi. And less stress.

Tagging: Man, I'm so awful at tagging! But if you follow me and check my profile - imagine that you are tagged right here 👉

[kb1301]

I can't focus on a single fic to write rn when you have multiple ideas T-T

I currently am still trying to outline a single chapter of korangi before i even go and write anything for it.

And at the same time there's a ghostsoap one too that i'm outlining.

Then i want to get into writing some lord shaxx x my exo maximus-12 because they need some loving

curse my imagination (no not really. i love what im thinking)

[cats-and-fiction]

Hey I'm new to ur blog but can I ask for NSFW Alphabet for Saint 14 and Shaxx? If not some NSFW headcannons will be fine. It's okay if you can't tho no pressure 💕

Oh please, I'm so sorry for probably answering pretty late! I really hope you like it and I'm also sorry for the rather short headcanons.

I also hope the spoiler works becuse below that is NSFW

Lord Shaxx

Oh boy, he will be rough. I can imagine him being the top for mostly 96% of the time and he will be.

The rare occassions when you are topping him it’s when he worked hard and is exhausted from the day. Then he just wants to sit on the bed after a relaxing shower and watching you come closer to him. Sitting on his lap and whispering him some honey sweet words in his ear.

At those times the sex will be more slower and more of a ‘love making’. He will praise you for every action and his hands will wander all over your body. His eyes will occasionally look your body up and down but he will be more fixated on your face and getting lost in your eyes.

Always after sex, however it went, he will make sure to take care of you. Getting you cleaned and making sure you are comfortable. After that he will join you in bed and have you in his arms.

You can bet that Shaxx is also the kind of person for random sex in the open. It will be much quicker than usual but he will make sure you will have your pleasure.

Shaxx will also tease you through out the day to give you signs what will be waiting for you at the end of the day.

Saint-14

Saint is the opposite of Shaxx. He will always be making sure you are first and that you feel good. His feelings? How he feels? Who cares, you are his number one.

Praise. Will praise you and talk dirty. He can’t stop it. He is kind of a talker to make up for his…not so soft robotic body.

And before I forget: He has a dick. Don’t worry.

Sain is more of the person to keep this kind of interaction behind closed doors and if you think about teasing him he will ignore you. He will change the subject and talk about something else.

Isn’t afraid to test out other things that you wish. If there is something he doesn’t like or it feels like he is doing harm to you he will tell you so and say he doesn’t wish to do it again.

After sex will also be very soft. Will take care of you and will cuddle with you.

[destiny2imagines]

[echosong971]

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