#sass squad space au

[chromations]

New Odysseus drawing!

[thatsalamander]

@chromations we got the oddysseus redraws 🙌

Art drawn by @thatsalamander

From left to right: Niko, Sam, Maya, Merrick

(Alex, Danny, and Austin haven't been redrawn yet f)

[thatsalamander]

@chromations

Me telling everyone about how many cease and desists I've gotten

[biggest-stupidhead]

i saw that your requests were open and i really enjoy your writing! bad timing is one of my fave fics to read 🥺 i was wondering if you could write levi x reader where the reader is tiny? (like 4’11 or 5’0) and levi is so geeked out over how cute she is and everything she does is so cute. reader literally hates her height but levi loves it bc he can finally pat someone’s head, carry them easily, and feel secure. could be modern au or canonverse whatever you’re comfortable with (-:

hhaha I know that it’s technically canon that Levi likes taller ppl more than short people but this is too cute not to. 

Summary: Levi is infatuated with squad leader (y/n) 

Word Count: 1.2K

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Levi watched as his squad finished up their ODM gear practice, all of them landing near the base of the forest that they had been practicing in. Levi tapped his boot impatiently on the dusty ground as he waited for them to come to him for their next orders. He vaguely heard the sound of another group of soldiers coming in for their own turn on the course of dummy titans. He turned and caught a glimpse of your head among the sea of teenagers. Much like himself, you were...vertically challenged. But despite your lack of height you managed to fair more than fine on the battle field, using your small stature to your advantage, which allowed you to maneuver rather gracefully in the air. Your squad was lined up behind you as you looked up at the tree line with your hand on your chin. 

“Squad leader, afterwards can we go to the river and swim? It’s so hot out.” one of your subordinates whined as he placed an arm on your head and leaned on you. Levi’s brows furrowed at the insubordination before him, but you shrugged the boy off and turned around, clapping your hands together. 

“Get to work, run through the course and meet me back here with a tally of your ‘kills’“ you instructed, the boy deflated when he didn’t get an answer to his question but nonetheless obeyed your order along with the four other teens. Once they were all gone you turned and flashed him a smile. 

“Captain.” You greeted with a nod before turning to join him. He hummed in response, taking a moment to appreciate how you were just below his eye level. A rare occurrence around here, for whatever reason all of the scouts seemed to be fucking massive. 

“Squad leader.” Levi said slowly as he looked back up at his own squad, the teens were finally all in one place, and now they were lumbering towards him like a herd of slobbering sweaty titans. 

“Captain!” they all greeted in almost perfect unison as they stopped and saluted. 

“Go put up your gear and get started on your chores for the afternoon.” Levi waved them off and they all scattered, save for Connie. Who was staring at you with his head cocked to the side. 

“I haven’t seen you around before, are you joining Levi’s squad?” He asked, approaching you with his hand outstretched. You scoffed but accepted his hand. 

“No cadet, I’m squad leader (L/n).” You smirked when Connie ripped his hand from your grasp and hurried to salute you. 

“My deepest apologies squad leader!” He closed his eyes, waiting for you to assign him a punishment but he only received a swat to the back of his head. When he cracked his eyes open he realized that it wasn’t the young squad leader but his own captain who had struck him. 

“Get moving Springer.” Levi ordered as he crossed his arms over his chest. Connie nodded and scurried after his friends, you only sighed and widened your stance. 

“He’s a cutie.” you mused, shooting Levi a wry smile. Levi clicked his tongue and averted his gaze. 

“Why so sour Captain?” You hummed, jabbing him in the rips with your elbow. 

“Watch it (L/n), just because you’re not my subordinate anymore doesn’t mean I’m not your senior.” Levi grunted with an accentuated roll of his eyes. 

“Oh so now you want to be an old man?” You giggled, still standing in his space. 

“I’m not even that old.” Levi shot you a hard glare, clearly you’d touched a nerve. 

“And I’m 6′3.” you returned the sass without issue and even Levi let out a sharp bark of laughter. 

“Touche´.” Levi hummed with a the smallest of smiles curling onto his lips. You smiled at your victory, you hadn’t been a squad leader for long, only about five months. But you were pulling the rank card as often as you could. 

“So I’m thinking about letting my squad go down to the river after this exercise, you feeling generous?” You asked, tilting your chin up to look in his eyes. Levi’s stomach did a flip at the gesture, he couldn’t resist reaching out and ruffling your hair. You yelped but didn’t pull away as he messed up your hair. 

“I suppose.” he grunted as he slowly pulled his hand off of your head. 

“Great.” You beamed up at him, shifting your hip to knock playfully against his. 

__

An hour later Levi begrudgingly ordered his squad out to the river, where he found you already neck deep in the water. Hange was standing next to you, her shoulders and head above the waterline. Your squad was swimming as well and Levi could feel the tension that was running thick in his own squad as they waited for his permission to join the fun. 

“Well? Go ahead.” He huffed, flicking his wrist towards the pile of clothes that was strewn across the sandy bank. He sat down on a log as he watched the teens strip down to their underwear and race into the river to join the others. Hange picked you up and slammed you down into the water, you resurfaced a moment later with your hair covering your eyes. You waded out of the river and came right up to him. You were still pushing your hair out of your face as you stood before him in your underwear. 

“Come on in captain, the water’s great.” you teased as you wrung out your hair. He scoffed and uncrossed his legs. 

“Do you know how many fish piss in that water? It’ll be a cold day in hell when I swim in a river as filthy as this-” You snatched his wrist and pulled him off of his balance. The two of your staggered down the bank, you only managed to get him to the waters�� edge before he regained his balance, a dark glare on his face. 

“No.” He said with a firm shake of his head. You pouted, bringing your other hand to hold his forearm. 

“Just for a minute.” You pleaded with doe eyes. Levi inhaled sharply and begrudgingly toed off his boots. 

“Only my feet.” Levi compromised as he leaned down to roll up his pants. You led him into the rocky river, the mossy stones under his feet made him uncertain. But you remained steady alongside him, once you had reached just below his pants, you turned and flashed another smile. Levi sighed deeply as he watched you stand there in the chilly water, so captivated by the way your eyes seemed to shine in the summer afternoon sun. In fact he was so infatuated that he hardly realized that the both of you were falling. Falling off of the edge of the shallow end and into a slightly deeper part of the river. Not deep enough where you couldn’t touch, but deep enough to soak his uniform. He came out from under the water with wide eyes, you were clinging to him, laughing that bubbly laugh, your nose was so close to his as your arms wrapped around his neck. And in that moment he didn’t even feel angry or betrayed. He was just so captivated with how well you felt in his arms, your face close to his and the warmth of your breath fanning over his lips. 

[mari-lair]

Norray halloween week Day 1: Ghosts!

If curious, below are some random info about this Teacher/ghost AU

Ray got a gun and he can use it. The ghost gun isn’t able to touch, much less physically hurt anyone, but it replicate the sound of a real gun, which contributed a lot to how low priced his haunted house rent has become. It nearly gave Norman a heart attack the first time he heard it.

After being dead for a while, Ray learned how to turn visible and invisible at will and play around small objects such as paper, shoes and butcher knives. He can control up to 4 small objects at a time or something relativaly heavy like a chair if he really concentrate. The more he got the hang of controling and moving small objects the lower his house rent become, rarely getting aggressive but still able to physically hurt people. On All Hallows Eve he can posses people’s bodies and get out of the house he haunts, but he always ends up back to his empty ‘home’ when the night is over.

Ray is an incredibly fast learner. Just by observing the people that visits his house, he learned a decent amount of modern english and understand the basics of how tecnology is a  thing now -he wished this advanced tecnology was invented when he was alive. It would make the of lack of food and nutrients less of a deadly nightmare in open sea.

As a pirate, Ray used to be the one in charge of doing most of the bloody work and take the night watch, protecting his captain’s back from both outside and inside forces. He was constantly alert, borderline paranoic. But as the years in death passed, he grew more calm, very patient. He usually don’t mind new people in his house, happy to learn more modern english and befriend the guests willing to tolerate him. If a new guest cross a line however,  Ray will do his best to scare them away. Hurt them or kill them by manipulating knives if he sees fit.

It’s very rare for adults to see Ray as anything other than a nonsense they have no energy to deal with or a warning sign for their crumbling lives, so he usually hang around kids. The childish company mellows him with time.

Ray is from a time where death was common and getting hurt was inevitable so what people consider pretty serious is something Ray considers mild “Why are you being so dramatic about seeing some bone? Be grateful your hand is still attached to your wrist after you slaped your daughter. If it wasn’t for her wishes you wouldn’t have legs to run away.”

Norman is considered a genius and have countless prizes under his belt. He wanted to go to the moon when he was a kid but because of his weak health, he knew he would not be acepted in the space program. He decided teaching was the next best thing later on, accepted as a teacher in a prestigious school while still young. He enjoys and understand all subjects but love history the most, unable to deny it was hard and frustrating to teach a whole class of teens at times but still liking his job. Having one student that was genuinaly interested in his class was more than enough to make his day.

When Norman first started teaching, he felt more responsable than he had his whole life. It wasn’t a bad feeling per see, but it made him anxious so he called his little sister Cherry once a week to ask her questions about her teachers and make sure he was doing a good job.

Norman may not be the funniest of teacher but he’s still a favorite for his palpable cares for his students. He does not make the subject easier than is requested but he put a lot of effort into making people enjoy their world history, teaching with passion and seriously answering any questions, no matter how silly or joking it sounds. He’s understanding and try his best to help those with dificulty with the subject, always giving people second chances, having lost countless nights of sleep correcting re-writen essays after deadlines and turning his test questions into podcasts for students with adhd, aware the big historical excerpts are fundamental for answering the test but too hard to focus, specially with limited time.

The lambda crew are problem children. Norman went the extra mile to save Barbara and Zazie from failing classes even outside history and left Vincent startruck with his wide knowladge about not only world history but a ton of subjects he could be teaching too if he wasn’t overworking himself. Norman is both happy to inspire the squad to study hard and also very awkward by their blind admiration.

The teacher had a firm “ghost don’t exist”  mentality, which is one of the reasons he brought the haunted house in the first place. He had chalked Ray up as an halucination from his sleep deprived brain, having the rotten luck of buying the house right after a bad guest owned. The ghost got more annoyed than usual from things as insignificant as Norman keeping the lights on for too long, putting music Ray doesn’t vibe with, or just acting unfairly cute, to more personal matters such as Norman studying about Ray and his family lives. They used to have a distant and bad relationship but once Ray noticed Norman had only admiration for history, being genuinaly kind when trying to talk instead of mocking his existence, Ray apologised. Norman was still wary at first but they quickly hit off, enjoying to learn what the other had to offer and matching in wits.

When Norman catch a fever or a bad cold Ray gets wary. He know, on some level, that medicine have evolved a lot, but he remenbers way too clearly how serious even the weakest of diseases could get if not imediatly treated.  He always stick by Norman’s side when the teacher sneezes, not taking his eyes off him. Usually Norman keep working when he catch a cold, so Ray learned to float Norman’s grading papers out of his reach when coughing joined his sneezes. Floating a paper is enough to get Norman to take a break most of the time, but if the get stubborn Ray will stop playing nice. Just lower his voice to comander mode and order “Rest. Now. Or I’ll make your life a living hell.” and Norman does what he’s told, it’s very unconfortable to have a gun in the face and he does feel very tired.

When Norman is seriously sick, not just coughing but stuck to his bed. Ray freak out and fear for his life. When it reached this level, most of his crewmates died or had to be thrown in the sea to not infect other. Yes Ray know it’s not as bad anymore, but even when he observed guests, they rarely got sick, and when it got bad they where taken to a doctor. Norman lives alone so he got no one to feed him and bring him blankets or take him to the doctor if he lies for hours in bed. Ray was all the help he would get and he is fucking dead, he can’t measure his temperature or take care of him properly. Ray does tries his best though. He concentrated a lot to float heavy blankets and pillows towards Norman. Imediatly fetching any pills asked of him and doing his best to make him tea. It isn’t tasty, but Norman still appreciates his care.

Ray is the first to fall in love, he think “If only I could  kiss this fool and hug him, I would do it on the daily. I wish he was alive back then... He would love meeting Emma...” at least once a week but a big part of him is just “Forget scurvy! Norman would die of cold or malnutricion before he reached 10. Thank god the helpless bastard took his sweet time to be born.”

Ray cannot touch any eletronics, he can’t even come close without phones, computers, and tvs turning to statics, so Norman buys an illustrated book about the Red Mane Pirates for Ray to see his crew again. He know is not perfect but is the best he can offer whenever Ray expresses missing his family.

They read together. Norman occasionally teaching a new word to his ghost and Ray correcting any historical inacuracy. It’s fun.

Norman finds an illustration of an alive Ray sleeping in the mast waaay too beautiful. Ray snort at the romantized draw, disolving into laughter by how Norman failed to hide his blush.

It became a habit to read history books together and tease each other. More often then not, it lead to a history class and way to much sass on both ends.

“Wait, so there really was a world war? I heard about it from old guests but I thought they were exagerating when they called world war! And what do you mean 2? There was a second one??”

“How did miss the second one? It was HUGE, quite horribl-”

“You were not even alive when it happened.”                                        

“Tecnically, you weren’t either Ray-” 

Ray is a bit scared of how attached he got to Norman, knowing eventually the man would die. He hopes it will take a long time, and that once he had a painless death, he will become a ghost too, but he doesn’t really believe Norman will ever turn into a ghost. Ray knows not everyone that dies became a ghost. Since someone as compassionable as Emma -even if she was forced to have blood and dirty choises on her hand to survive the merciless seas- was not cursed to became a ghost, he was confident someone as kind as Norman would dissapear from Ray’s afterlife once he died too.

More of this AU here

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And since you reached the end of this text wall. You can have this bonus Norman being awkward/excited about their growing friendship.

[talkcloneshipstome]

This is not the proper one word format, but could I request Echo/Fives/Tup, maybe newly ARC!Tup being welcomed back from training? 💙

Almost surprisingly, writing this prompt took nowhere near as long as I had expected it to, especially given the fact that I just started it... Oh, an hour or less ago. If it feels rushed and weird, I apologize and blame it entirely upon that. But thank you for the prompt! I absolutely adore this ship, as you well know.

This takes place in an AU where Revenge of the Sith either doesn’t happen, happens much later than it does in canon, or happens differently. Fives didn’t die, Echo was rescued and rejoined the 501st, and they both got married to Tup at separate times through all this. If you have questions about specifics, because I think making the whole thing work is really fun, feel free to hit me up! I hope you like this <3

Ten minutes.

That’s hardly any time at all. Just ten more minutes, and he’ll be back. He’ll be off this ship and back where he belongs. With his legion, his company, his husbands. He’ll be home again.

Oh, Tup is so ready to be home. He’s been missing his brothers and riduur’e something fierce.

It’s been six weeks that he’s been away from them. Six weeks of what Tup can really only describe as Hell. No, it wasn’t all bad. But ARC training isn’t supposed to be easy. If it was easy, everyone would do it.

But they don’t. It’s not for just anyone. It’s for the best of them. The soldiers who’ve proven themselves, gone above and beyond. It’s the second most rewarding kind of torture that Tup has ever experienced, right after the long months in which he pined silently for the men who would become his husbands.

And yikes had that taken a while.

After six weeks away, one would think that Tup could handle another ten minutes. You’d think he wouldn’t be so keyed up and nervous. Six weeks away is an insane amount of time. Anything could have happened between then and now, and Tup wouldn’t know. Okay, maybe that’s not quite true. Tup would have heard about anything important. They weren’t completely cut off during ARC training. In fact, they were actively encouraged to talk to their squads and the vode they’d left behind as much as they could. Within reason, of course.

Truth be told, Tup hadn’t expected that. But after the first few days, he realized why it was encouraged. There wasn’t a lot of free time in when training to become an ARC, mostly because if you weren’t drilling, studying, eating, or being tested, you were probably sleeping. That’s about all the energy Tup had left in his downtime. He slept and when it finally felt as if he’d struck up a good balance of feeling rested without sleeping constantly, then he and the other candidates found their own ways to entertain themselves.

(Tup has played so many impromptu games of hide-and-seek and hidden in the smallest and strangest places, he’s pretty sure he could fit himself into the tiny duct in Torrent’s barracks and never be found.)

The point is, he found time to stay in contact with Fives, Echo, and Rex. It took a bit of time to get figured out, but it happened nonetheless. But he hadn’t had the energy or time to miss them in the past weeks, being as busy and exhausted as he as been. It was sort of nice, in a strange and painful kind of way. It felt less like the world might end at any given moment, despite the fact that he’s aware it wouldn’t have stopped, even if he was at ARC training.

So with only— five minutes left to go, Tup thinks he’s about to vibrate right out of his seat. There’s a buzzing under his skin that he can’t get rid of. No amount of pacing or fidgeting with calm the nerves he feels riling up in his stomach. Sure, he may be an ARC now with more muscle than he’d left with, but he’s still Tup.

Tup is confident, but he’s always been a little bit of a worrier. A nervous kid, as far as clones go. Not for himself, but for others. His batchmates, the members of his squad, his fellow troopers in Torrent company. He worries about his husbands. Yeah, Tup grins easily and plays pranks with the best of them, but he’s nervous, too.

Becoming an ARC didn’t train that out of him. Comes with the territory of having loved ones, Tup supposes.

He’s so lost in thought that he hardly even recognizes when the shuttle lands in the bay. His head jerks up and he shoots from his seat again, eager to get out of the small space. He doesn’t have to wait long. After a second, the door opens with a hiss, folding downwards and ramping to the durasteel floor of the main hangar.

Tup breathes a little easier, seeing Rex standing a few feet from the ramp, waiting for him. He’s not alone, but there’s a twinge of sorrow in his chest when none of the paint matches with the two people he wants to see the most.

Still, he grins seeing his captain and vode again. Tup strides confidently down the ramp, all too aware of the extra weight on his shoulders and hips that his brand new kama and pauldrons have added. His armor is all new and white, freshly painted with Torrent’s ever darkening shade of blue paint. He keeps his helmet tucked securely beneath his arm, even as he comes to a halt in front of Rex and salutes him.

“Captain,” he says, smirking a lopsided grin. Rex returns the look and salute.

“Welcome back, ARC trooper Tup,” the blond man says. It stirs something in Tup’s stomach to hear his captain address him like that. Tup swells with pride, puffing his chest out and titling his chin just slightly higher.

Tup returns to a more relaxed position after that. Torrent new has stood on very much ceremony.

Tup can’t resist turning his head side to side, looking for the two people he wants to see most.

“So how was it?” Rex asks.

“Hell,” Tup responds cheerfully. Rex chuckles.

“Yeah, I remember. Was it as bad as we all made it out to be?”

Tup catches Jesse’s smirk as he comes up and leans into Rex’s shoulder, proudly wearing his own kama.

“No, no,” Tup says with a wave of dismissal. “It was much worse.”

That gets everyone around them busting out in fits of laughter. Tup can’t help but join in, even through his disappointment as his partners not being there to welcome him home.

Finally, he plucks up the courage to ask what’s on his mind. A part of him is worried that he won’t like the answer. Worries that he’s come home to broken pieces that need to be picked up and glued back together again. Assuming there are any pieces left to mend.

“Where are Echo and Fives?” he asks, casting another curious eye around the hanger. They have not magically appeared.

Both Rex’s and Jesse’s faces turn downwards in odd facsimiles of sad frowns. Tup narrows his eyes at them. He doesn’t think they’re about to lie to him, but those aren’t the faces of two brothers with bad news. Those are the faces of two of his brothers who are up to something and trying to convince him that they’re not.

“They’re out on a mission, actually. It couldn’t be helped—”

Tup quirks a brow up at them, shifting his weight to the side and cocking his hip out, full of as much sass as he can muster.

Given the amusement that flashes through both their eyes, Tup isn’t sure if he’s succeeded or not.

“Really? Because I think—”

Two sets of boots clatter suddenly into motion behind him in the same moment two extremely familiar voices cry out in excited greeting. Tup finds himself swept off his feet by two pairs of strong arms hardly before he can even react. Which is slightly embarrassing, given how he has literally just gotten back from ARC training. You’d think he’d be ready and equipped for this!

But he wasn’t. His feet are no longer touching the floor, and he has to throw his arms around someone’s — Fives, he’s pretty sure — shoulders in the hopes of not finding himself on his ass in a few seconds. Echo crushes him between the two of them, squeezing the living daylights out of Tup in a giant bear hug.

Tup wishes he could say it hurts less than it used to when they were both stronger than him. It doesn’t they have perfected this ambush-hug of theirs so that it always takes him off guard. He’s not actually hurting, because neither would really hurt him, but they do knock the breath from his lungs for a second.

Both Fives and Echo are saying things at him, talking loud with cheer in their voices and bright smiles on their faces. They do set him down after a second, but the hug doesn’t end. Tup finds that he hopes it never ends. He’d happily just stay right here, squished in between his lovers for the rest of his life, if he was given the choice. Nowhere has he felt more loved, happy, or accepted than in their arms.

He can’t help the relieved, happy tears that gather in the corners of his eyes, threatening to wet his cheeks.

Six weeks since he’s seen them last. Six weeks since he kissed them. Six weeks since they hugged him.

Six weeks without either of his riduur’e.

It was unacceptable, and Tup hopes to never have to be separated from them for them long again, no matter how irrational that hope may be.

They notice his tears almost before Tup does himself. The hug gentles into something tender and grounding as they both coo praises and love and reassurances at them.

Tup absolutely thinks they’re both dicks for trying to make him think they wouldn’t be here to welcome him home, but that hardly matters. It doesn’t matter because even with their concern and through his tears, Echo gets him to laugh. The three giggle together, they wipe away Tup’s tears before they can spill over. His husbands take turns kissing him over and over again until he’s smiling at them and feeling a little boneless from the love seeping into him even through the plastoid of his armor.

And, okay, maybe he’s still tired, too.

“We missed you,” Echo promises into the back of Tup’s neck after a moment. His hands have found their way into Tup’s half-loose hair. It’s braided back in some not at all intricate design, but it’s still much fancier than when he throws it up into the tight bun he usually prefers.

“I missed you, too,” he says back. Fives smiles at him, brushing the pads of his thumbs over Tup’s cheekbones.

“Look at you,” he says. “Tup, our husband. An ARC trooper.”

“Bet you didn’t see this coming when I was just a shiny on Umbara,” Tup jokes, wiping at his own eyes. “I told you I could do it though.”

Fives’ eyes are so soft as he gazes lovingly at him. Tup feels himself melting just at the expression.

“I always knew you could.”

[writefightandflightclub]

Luna’s Poe “Peacock” Dameron Fic Masterlist

See my pinned post for my other character masterlists!

GIF by @starwarsandstuff​

Key: 🔥 = smut, 🍭 = fluff/cute, 🌪 = angst, 😈 = dark, 🌲 = pining, 😤 = bickering, 🚀= mission/adventure 😉 = steam but not smut

Poe Dameron Series

Bounty & the Beasts (DONE) 🚀🍭🔥🌪

Violent Delights (7/8 parts) 😈

Two steps back (4/7 parts) 🌪🌲

Of rears and vices (DONE)🔥

Indivisible (DONE) 🍭

Poe Dameron one-shots + blurbs (any gender reader)

Fix you up 🍭

Punish me 🔥😤

The fight or flight flirt instinct 🍭😤

L’appel du vide 🌪🔥

Dream a little 🍭🌲

Reader, you married him 🔥🍭

Almost, but not quite 🌪🌲

A cut above the rest 🍭

Cave me in 🔥

Little Victories 🌪🍭🌲

Kiss me warm 🍭🌪😤 🚀

Mixed signals 🍭🌲

Operation H.U.G. 🍭

Pillow Talk 🍭😤

I dare ya 🍭 🌪 (BONUS CONTENT) 🌪

Poke it 🍭

Rally the troupes 🍭

Lost and found 🍭

Holo without you 🍭

Tell it to the stars 🍭

Tiptoe around this (short!reader) 🍭

Deepest, lightest secrets 🍭���🔥

There’s only one bed 🍭

Sink then float 🌪

Quack fic 🍭

Kiss me if you missed me 🍭

Working up the courage 🍭

The space between words 🍭

You make me shy 🍭

Poe Dameron’s little book of good things 🌪️

Poe Dameron Protection Squad 🌪️

Poe Dameron one-shots (fem reader)

Rebelle of the ball 🚀🍭

Sex machine 🔥

Nightmares and daydreams 🌪

Love is a casualty of war 🌪 🔥

Make it last forever 🍭

Less sass flyboy, shut up and kiss me 🌪 🔥 🍭

Modern!Poe AUs

Arrivals 🍭

Departures 🍭 (fem reader)

Eye of the Beholder 🍭 (any gender reader)

First Order!Poe AUs

(Violent Delights series linked above too)

Bulletproof 🌪🚀 (any gender reader)

Honey, I’m gonna... 🔥😈 (fem reader)

Hush 🌪🔥 (fem reader)

PDA 🔥 (fem reader)

Reconnoiter 🔥 (any gender reader)

The Slow Knife 😈🔥

FinnPoe + FinnPoe x reader

Indivisible (COMPLETED SERIES, any gender reader) 🍭

Smutty FinnPoe x Reader headcanons 🔥 (any gender reader)

FinnPoe Christmas 🍭

Finn x reader

You are my sunshine 🍭🌲

Poe headcanons

Poe military MedEvac pilot AU

Poe Chat posts

Bad Influence Part Two

And there were only two beds

Gimme the “D”

Fuck the Resistance

Working under you

Striptease not a triptease

Bones

What Poe’s like in bed

Bi, guys

Where were you stabbed?

Poe Dameron and Tony Stark AKA Snarky Space Bois

Search my blog for #snarky space bois for a bunch of Poe and Tony chat posts 🍭

Also: feral sub!Poe and sub!Tony smutty headcanons, here 🔥 (read the notes for bonus content!)

[mae-gi-writes]

Behind The Crown (Part One) | Kevin Moon Imagine (The Boyz)

Prince Kevin Moon x Second-In-Command Reader. A Royal Kingdom AU.

Genre: fluff, royal kingdom au, angst

Words: 3K 

I love Prince Kevin and I’ve received so much good feedback on Royal Kingdom AUs so I’m planning to make more of them! Enjoy xx 

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

There is nothing more poetic than a dark night sky dotted with stars twinkling like diamonds to accompany a romantic evening. Unfortunately for Kevin, there isn't much room for romance in his life anymore. Last night had been a flurried exchange of written contracts and verbal agreements between the two kingdoms that reign over the land of Meridia, a promise that their heir would be betrothed to the prince of Meridia to bring the two royal families together as one.

Kevin isn't a stranger to the concept of arranged marriages, he'd been preparing for this his entire life, having been brought up in a household where royal blood and family pride is placed above romance and fluttering feelings of the heart. 

The more the date approaches though, the more restless he feels. Something in his heart tugs at him in a manner that feels heavy despite the obvious happiness glimmering on his mother's face, as though all the unresolved loose ends of the world now make perfect sense and work together in harmony. 

His eyes roam over the city lights glimmering in the distance, notice the soft glow of the lanterns surrounding the castle walls that seem amber in the dim light of the night. Vines twirl around each and every tower, blooming with the most beautiful array of hibiscus flowers, well-trimmed and maintained by the royal family's gardeners, most probably, and as he feels the wind brush through his raven locks, Kevin closes his eyes and breathes in the soft scent of summer salt carried over from the waves underneath the cliff on which his royal palace stands. 

"Your highness."

He doesn't need to glance back to know that it's one of his personal guards, bowing at service. A soft smile creeps over his face, "back already?" He asks in a soft murmur. 

The royal guard goes to stand beside him, "I should be asking you that."

"You know why I'm back so early."

"Too much royalty for you to bear?" 

Kevin catches a glance of Y/N's features, softened by the shadows cast from the lights behind her, "indeed."

"Did you meet your betrothed?" She crosses her arms over her chest and looks out at the view. 

Kevin's fingers bunch over his shirt sleeves unconsciously, "I did."

"Bet she's your type, isn't she?"

"Not funny, Y/N."

"Sorry," she holds her hands up, a playful grin on her face, "ah come on, Kev. It can't be that bad. You knew you had it coming."

"I know, I just wish I didn't have to. This is exactly why I'd rather be born a stable boy sometimes." 

"If you were a stable boy, marriage would not have been on your mind."

"And that's exactly what I want."

Y/N nudges him on the shoulder, "wanna go to the cliffs?" She suggests with a wriggle of her brows and for a minute, Kevin contemplates the temptation in his mind. 

But then, realizing that he should probably start acting like royalty if he wants to be up to the task, he lets out a sigh instead before hanging his head.

"I can't," he murmurs, "I can't do those things anymore, Y/N. You know that."

"Ah well, I'll just have to find another partner in crime," she tuts playfully, causing him to scowl, "oh no, you're not!"

"You're the one who's bailing."

"I don't have a choice!"

"Whatever floats your boat, your majesty."

Despite the current situation, Kevin can't help but let out a choked laugh. Trust Y/N to make him feel better even in the shittest situations. It had been the first female guard that he'd hired as part of his personal protection squad, much to the protests of his family. To that, he'd stated that women should have just as much right to fight equally in the battlefield lest they wanted to, and Y/N had been grateful that his beliefs seemed to include equality for women. But at that point, his parents had no say in the people that served him and thus had kept shut about it.

The first few weeks in the Meridia Kingdom had unsettled her, for Kevin isn't the most princely of princes. With his easy going manner and his clumsy attitude, he gets himself into more trouble than the normal regular person. It took her some time to adjust herself to the casual way in which he addressed her, taking her more like a friend than an actual servant and in a way, it had brought them closer. Gone was the Kevin that was heir to the throne. Instead, she gets a taste of his lame jokes and his annoying sass, gets to know the softest parts of his heart through vulnerable conversations and the way in which he has so much space and understanding for others, it's surprising he has some left for himself. 

So in the moments where the prince himself feels the weight of his responsibility settle over his shoulders --just like right now -- then Y/N makes it a must to distract him, if only for a little while.

"Hey Y/N," Kevin's murmur almost washes away when another wind picks up. Fortunately, she hears him.

"Hm?" She looks over.

He pauses for a moment, taking in the way the moonlight cascades over her face with a softness that renders her so endearing, so youthful, unlike her usual sharp eyes and the tense clench of her jaw. Standing here right at this moment, she looks like she is years younger than she actually is, and something in his heart twists with yearning.

"You're still going to be my guard right?" Kevin asks softly, saying the words carefully, "even after I get married?" 

His heart clenches at her sad smile, "well, I guess that depends on your beloved, your highness."

"She doesn't have a say in the people that serve me."

"She will, if she knows that your personal guard is a woman. A woman close to you, no less."

He doesn't tell her that she is right. But even as the wind howls and her figure climbs down the wall, disappearing from the tower, he comes to the realization that what she says is nothing but the truth. 

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

The next days to come are filled to the brim with meetings between the council members of Meridia, dinners and brunches of all kinds with extended family that come from afar to bestow upon the new couple good fortune and a long, happy, fulfilled life. With every day that passes, Kevin's smile gets a little more strained, a little tighter around the edges, his eyes dimming with every second closer to the fact that he will be married in a month's time.

"I'm so fed up of royal lunches and dinners and just about any type of food they can offer me at this point," Kevin can't help but moan as he and Y/N trail along the beach to catch the remaining beams of the sunset, one of the rare occasions where his presence at the castle is not mandatory. 

His sandals are forgotten, dangling from his fingers, while Y/N is practically barefoot. Her pant sleeves are rolled up to catch the fresh waves as they lull to the shore. 

"You do seem to be getting a little chubby," she lets out a remark, which instantly causes Kevin to look at her with alarm. 

"You're kidding." 

"Is that--a hint of a tummy I see?" She pokes at his side on cue and the young man bats her away, making her chuckle as she falls into step beside him.

"Did you have a nice chat with princess Delia?" Y/N asks as she kicks at the water with her feet, toes wriggling through the sand. 

Kevin shrugs in response, "she's alright, I guess. At least we have things in common, like drawing and music."

"And yet you were badmouthing her."

"You're supposed to be on my side."

"I always am, your highness."

Kevin makes a grab for her elbow so that she looks up at him questioningly, "it's Kevin, to you," his eyes flash with emotion, "none of that Highness bullshit." 

"Okay," Y/N's eyebrow is quirked up in amusement, before adding, "your highness."

He scowls in response and she laughs, "okay okay, Kevin." 

They walk along the beach for a little longer, watching the sunlight dance across the aquamarine waves lapping up at the sand's edge, glimmering silver whenever its reflection bounces off its surface. 

"There's a royal ball tomorrow night," he speaks up amidst the comfortable silence, "Will you come?"

"I always do."

"Not as a guard."

That stops her in her tracks, "I can't do that, your highness."

"Why not?"

His eyes are scorching hers, intent on making her cave when they push against her own mahogany orbs, "I'm your guard, Kevin. Not your--not a maiden. Far from it."

"I'll talk to Mother about it," Kevin urges, quickly swivelling before her so that she has no other choice than to look up at him, at his beautifully refined princely features and the finely shaped lips that he's inherited from the King himself. His orbs, glowing a burnt shade of amber in the descending sun, causes her heart to skip a beat despite her attempts to keep her cool. 

"Please, Y/N. It's one of the last days where I'll be free to do as I wish. My last days as prince of Meridia."

She hates how authentically charming he is, how he can easily convince her to bend at his will. He knows his strengths and he plays that to his advantage. 

So she has no other choice but to bite down her protests and nod while pushing aside that weird squeezing feeling she has in her chest, the warmth trickling inside her heart at the thought that he might see her as just a little more than a mere guard. He is her prince, after all, and orders are orders.

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

Y/N tugs down uneasily at her dress, palms accumulating sweat even though she has been constantly reminding herself that she has been on suicide missions much more life theatening than a mere ball.

What can possibly go wrong? She tries making herself feel better as she gazes at her reflection, nothing right?

"You look beautiful, Y/N." 

Glancing back at one of her comrades sitting at the foot of her bed, she lets out a snort, "you could've sounded a little more convincing, Hyunjae."

"I mean it!" Hyunjae argues, "you...you look pretty, Y/N. Have a little faith in yourself."

How can she? She trails her eyes down towards the midnight blue gown she has donned for the occasion -- an older model dated from years ago that she had managed to salvage from the seamstress at the last minute -- with its wide neckline and off-the-shoulder sleeves. The dress clings to her like second skin, before fanning out at the waist in a midnight trail of stars shimmering every time she moves. If one doesn't look too close, the dress looks acceptable. Simple, but acceptable in comparison to the gorgeous ensembles that she'll be compared to at the ball.

Hands clamp down on her shoulders before Hyunjae'a face pops up next to hers. He gives her a reassuring squeeze, "you'll be fine, Y/N. If you managed to slay hundreds od soldiers, you'll survive a ball. I promise."

"Thanks," she bites down onto her lower lip and watches him tease her hair that she hss let loose for the occasion. 

"I think I like you better with your hair down, you look more--" he pauses for dramatic effect, "soft. Like a girl. Know what I mean?" 

She throws him a punch on his shoulder and he yelps, releasing his hold, "that hurts."

"Sorry, must be the nerves," she flashes a fake smile, before sobering up, "anyway, wish me luck."

"Go get them, girl."

The room is already filled with guests by the time Y/N makes her way over, entering through the side door as The Queen has suggested with a haughty huff --in order to avoid any kind of misunderstandings --and while she isn't really the type to think the worst of people, she is beginning to think that the Queen might have a thorough dislike for her presence. 

Trying to blend in with the crowd, Y/N impulsively grabs a glass of wine and settles at the corner of the room, content to watch and analyze people like she usually does. It's part of her job description, after all. The ballroom looks stunning in veils of white and champagne-colored drapes adorning each passing victorian column, long tables with matching white tablecloths lining one side of the wall and peppered in golden flecks. Chandeliers have been wiped clean this morning and are gleaming, twinkling whenever they catch the light beaming down like a golden halo around the room. 

"And who might you be?" 

The unfamiliar alto causes her to jump slightly, and she turns to see a handsome man dressed up to the nines, in a deep emerald tuxedo and with hooded eyes, a sharply defined nose, and pushed back midnight hair. 

"I--uh, I'm no one," she is quick to stutter out, almost backing away on impulse. 

"Please," he murmurs, "I mean no harm. I just want to talk."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I don"t think I'd be of much interest to you," Y/N stammers out, panic slowly rising through her, "I--I am really nobody at all and--"

"Would you care to join me for a dance?" 

"I--I'm sorry, I don't--" stumbling back into a chest, a yelp dies at the back of her throat when a hand slips around her waist. 

"Pardon me, Prince Younghoon. She's with me." 

Kevin. Her heart makes a leap of ecstasy. He's close, so close she can smell his scent, can feel his warmth from his hand to the small of her back and it takes everything in her not to combust into a small flame. 

"Oh," Prince Younghoon's eyes widened. He steps away and bows, "my apologies, your highness. I was not aware."

Y/N waits until the said suitor is out of earshot before she twists out of Kevin's embrace, "what do you think you're doing?" She hisses. 

"I saved you," he replies with a raised brow, "you do not want to mess with the likes of Prince Younghoon. He's got wandering hands."

"And you don't?"

His cheeks flame up, "of course I don’t"

"Prince Kevin!" 

A beautiful, fair-skinned woman suddenly appears with a hand placed on Kevin's arm, a suggestive action perhaps. Her face, petite and just as refined as his, boasts of an air of royalty without having to introduce herself. 

"Delia," Kevin offers her a wan smile that she returns and the brilliance almost blinds the female soldier, "this is Y/N, she's my special guest for tonight." 

"Ah, yes. I remember you mentioning her," Delia smiles before casting her a once over. Y/N tries not to shrink back upon impulse, "would you mind if I steak Kevin away for a few minutes? Mother would like to talk to him about the wedding preparations."

Y/N shakes her head and watches as he is tugged away despite the uncertain look he sends her, before quickly pasting herself against one side of the ballroom, content to watch and admire from afar.

These people, she realizes, aren't from her world. It's like she's looking at them through a thick fogged-up glass, perfect figurines made out of perfect molds. She, in comparison, feels so awkward, like an ugly duckling in a crowd of glamorous swans. 

The evening passes by uneventfully and slowly for Y/N, whose eyes can't help but linger over Kevin and Delia's figures as they glide over the dance floor. Her heart scrunches in protest every time he'd smile down at the princess, burning heat crawling through the back of her throat and choking her with its intensity. 

Why is he looking at her like that? She asks herself sullenly, why does he look like he's having such a great time when he kept telling her that he wasn't interested in marrying her?

Y/N knows all too well what that familiar prickle is, but it's not like she can do anything about her jealousy. He's royalty and no matter what kind of feelings she might be catching for his majesty are invalid, should be thrown out of the window instantly. It is only going to result in heartbreak, in tears. 

And yet, she can't help it if her heart seeks his own. Despite her constant reminders that he is way out of her league, this tiny voice pushes at her insistently like a bratty child. 

"Penny for your thoughts?" She jumps, swearing profanely under her breath, only to realize that it's none other than the man she holds dear to her heart himself.

"You seemed to be thinking hard about stuff," Kevin jokes while nudging her shoulder, "what's up? Why do you have that look on your face?"

"What look?"

"Like something displeases you."

Shit, she thinks to herself, before quickly brushing it off, “it's nothing." 

Kevin shoots her a pointed look. But when it's clear she isn't about to divulge any of her personal thoughts, extends his arm, "care for a dance?" 

"I don't dance." 

"You will now," and before she can refuse, he has grabbed onto her arm and pulled her to the middle of the dance floor, one hand pressed to her waist, the other clasping her hand in his. 

"Just follow me," Kevin's murmur brushes against her ear. Close, and warm. Suddenly, the ground seems all too unstable and her grip unconsciously tightens on his, all too aware of the multitude of eyes boring into her back as they spin in harmony with the other couples.

"So, I noticed you and Delia are getting along well," she says, voice light so that he won't detect the slight wavering intonation that she wants to imply. 

But Kevin is quick to catch on, raising a quizzical eyebrow, "we are," he replies slowly, as if measuring his words, "we don't have any choice, after all. She's going to be my wife."

That hurts her a little more than she'd like to admit.

“That’s--wonderful,” she croaks out, except that it’s not really what’s lingering at the tip of her tongue. 

She can feel the heat of his stare, adamantly focusing her eyes on his chest to avoid any type of confrontation. Y/N isn’t sure whether her heart can take it. 

“Is it really?” he murmurs.

Y/N eyes glance up, quickly flit back down, “I mean--yeah, it is. She’s your bride-to-be, the one you’ll be spending the rest of your life with.” 

“And you’re okay with that?” 

Frowning, she looks back up at his face, “of course I--of course I’m okay with that,” she lies through her teeth.

Something shifts in his eyes then, something she can’t quite figure out. But it’s gone as soon as soon as she blinks, leaving her to ponder upon whether she has imagined the whole thing. He doesn’t mention it again throughout the evening, though she can tell that something has urged his mind to be preoccupied since his responses come out soft and barely attentive, like there’s something else preoccupying the front of his mind. 

But it’s not until later that night that she understands why.

After their guests have left and his parents have retreated to their quarters, Kevin pulls her outside into the King’s Courtyard, a small garden adorned with exotic flowers of all kinds, and most primarily, an ode to the hibiscus flowers tilted up to gaze at the moon, blossoming in full glory. 

“You could have at least let me change before dragging me out here,” Y/N says while tugging her skirts away where it had just gotten tangled in a rosebush. When she is met with nothing but silence, she spares a glance at the Prince only to see his face tilted up, eyes closed, basking in the light of the moon, and softens. 

Kevin, as long as she’d known him, had always found solace in nature. Most interestingly, the moon. It calms him down to know that there is a bigger universe far more important than his problems, he states every time she questions him about it.

“Your highness?” she prompts in a soft murmur.

That catches his attention, causes his eyes to find hers. He sighs heavily, “don’t call me that.” 

“It’s just for the formalities, no need to be so stingy.” 

“I’m not, I just--” there is an evident struggle on his face as he tries to find the words. He bites at the corner of his lips, before looking away with another exhale. 

“Kev?” she moves closer, close enough that if she reaches out, she can touch his arm, “what is it?” 

It takes a moment for him to find the words. But when he speaks next, his voice is laced with a mixture of pain and emotion, a fragility that causes her own chest to swell in concern. 

“Do you think I’m doing the right thing? By marrying Delia, I mean?” 

She cocks her head to the side, “I don’t know. Would you call that a choice if there’s no other option available?” 

A pause. Then, in a small voice, “sometimes, I wish I could just run away.” 

She blinks at him, unsure. Is this the part where she encourages him? Or not? 

She decides to stay quiet.

“I--” his chest swells when he breathes in shakily, “--I don’t-- I don’t want to get married, Y/N.” 

Another bout of silence ensues and Y/N shifts uneasily from one foot to another. 

“Then don’t,” her mouth lashes out before she manages to control herself, which rewards her with Kevin’s shocked face as he faces her with wide eyes. 

“Are you serious?” 

“If you want me to be.” 

“Be serious, Y/N.” 

“I am.” 

His maroon orbs, almost dark in the dim light of the courtyard, are glistening as though wet with unshed tears as they hold her gaze with an expression so familiar, the same one that he gave her earlier in the ballroom, although god knows what’s going on in his mind right this very minute. 

She opens her mouth to say something else-- anything really, to shake off that weird feeling settling over her shoulders -- but finds that words die atop her tongue as he keeps on gazing down at her, features softening and mouth slowly parting to say words that never make it out.

“Would you?” he suddenly blurts out, “run away with me?” 

“Wait, you’re--you’re actually considering it? I don’t think--” 

But his hand comes up to brush against her cheekbone then, which causes her to fall silent as she swallows thickly and tries searching his face for any indication, any sign of playfulness, for fear that he is just playing. 

The tingles that his thumb leaves against her skin has her breath rattle. Suddenly, she can’t seem to move, for fear that doing so will shatter whatever magical air surrounds them, charged with something she can only describe as electricity.

“What,” she’s glad that her voice comes out as strong as she wants it to be, “are you doing?” 

Kevin just keeps staring at her with hooded eyes as though he’s dazed, his thumb brushing against her skin, over and over until she can’t stop the blush from rising and she hopes that the darkness is enough to mask her reaction.

“I don’t know,” he searches her eyes, so close that his breath washes over her face, “it just feels right.” 

“That is not appropriate behaviour--”

She almost yelps when his other hand reaches down to grasp hers. Looking down at their now entwined fingers, she is pretty sure that her face is flaming red by now, and too embarrassed to look up at the said prince, Y/N bites at the inside of her cheek with her head bowed.

“Look at me,” Kevin urges, “look at me, Y/N.”

“I can’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“You--You know you can’t do that. It’s--” her voice breaks then, “it’s not fair.” 

He leans in even closer. Their lips are millimeters apart and her orbs flicker up to notice his half-lidded eyes tracing her every feature. Something inside her heart gives a jolt.

“What isn’t?” he breathes.

And then, his mouth catches her own.

Yelping slightly at the sudden sensation of his lips cupping hers in an unfamiliar embrace, her heart almost gives out in her chest as her legs turn to jelly, and she all but melts against the prince’s chest as he untangles their hands to wrap his arm around her waist, pressing her even closer. He tilts her head back with his other hand, cupping her cheek and stroking lovingly at her dewy skin as his mouth slowly moves over hers in a sinuous dance of affection. 

He smells heavenly. He tastes heavenly. She can barely breathe, barely think straight, scattered thoughts running around and disrupted by the fireworks and cartwheels tumbling through her chest. 

Turning her head away in a weak attempt to escape, she lets out a breathless, “your highness--”

“Don’t call me that,” his lips trace along her jaw to catch hers once more, hand leaving a trail of sparks as it traces her backside in the most sensual of touches. 

Y/N can’t help but shiver and return his kiss despite her brain screaming at her that this will only result in heartbreak, and heat rushes down south when a noise sounding like a moan rumbles through Kevin’s chest. 

At this particular moment, even though the pair are stealing kisses like thieves in the middle of the night, Y/N can’t feel like everything suddenly makes sense. 

[chromations]

Astronauts talking about DND (and highschool experiences)

[chromations]

@thatsalamander

Alex J. Poole (OC, SSAU) with purple, space, and lights for @chromations!

🌌|💜|🌌 💜|🌌|💜 🌌|💜|🌌

[thatsalamander]

I tried to draw on my phone

I don't wike it. It's hard. And the program I'm using is poopoo.

[xadoheandterra]

Title: Kismet; Lacuna Fandom: Dishonored Chapters: I | II Characters: Billie Lurk, Daud, Thomas, Corvo Attano, Pieor Joplin Tags: Time Travel, unspecified throat injury, temporarily mute character, Post Death of the Outsider, WIP, AU, Present Dishonored, discussions of void powers Summary: He felt twisted sick, the air refused to stay in his lungs and his throat burned fiercely. He couldn’t speak when for so long all he had were his words. He couldn’t feel aside from cold familiarity that had been his life for so long…and his name–he knew it, it was there in the tip of his tongue, on the edge of his thoughts, and yet it was gone again. Taken from him. Stolen, yet not. The Void churned within him, but it was wrong. He hadn’t felt like this in two years. He hadn’t–this was all wrong. The Outsider was dead; he wasn’t the Outsider anymore. Wasn’t he?

Billie Lurk wakes up on her bed in the old Commerce Building ten days before her exile from the Whalers. She has a void eye and a void arm that only she can see, memories of events that haven’t happened, powers she can’t explain, and a connection to a boy who had once been an Eldritch whale deity whose name she knew but cannot speak, cannot think. Something had gone horribly wrong and the path of destiny irrevocably changed.

Thomas pulled Daud aside; Billie had been under Fisher's care for a few hours now and the man couldn't focus on the reports that a few of the Whaler's had brought in for the life of him. Thomas could understand it--Billie wasn't like herself at all, earlier. She'd woken late, which was unusual but could've been chalked up to having overworked herself the night before on some errand as Daud's second. No, the real kicker had been what she did, the words she said and didn't say--the way her magic felt so very off and different. It tasted more like stagnant water in the air, a salted sea gone sour with rot, instead of the sharp electric tang of Daud's Arcane Bond.

{she'd looked at him, said 'Thomas?' with such clear confusion, face twisted into a thousand little emotions and so bare that it shook him--she was never so easy to read; she was an unattainable goal of perfect professionalism mixed with snark and sass and not this)

"That wasn't Billie," Thomas said simply, mask off even though they were in the middle of Daud's study, even though the rules were clear for everyone. Thomas scrubbed a hand through his hair, then over the faint stubble on his face. Daud didn't look at him, hands clasped behind his back as he stared out the broken window into the ruins of Rudshore. He didn't say anything, left Thomas to scramble for his words and explain. The silence was expectant.

Thomas' hands curled into fists. He said a short, "Daud--"

Daud breathed out slowly, head bowed down. "I would argue," the man said, voice gravel soft, "that that was more Billie than she's been in a long while."

The words drew Thomas up short; enough that his hands unclenched and he took a surprised step back. "What?"

Daud turned and looked him over, eyed Thomas up and down, and then turned back toward the window. He said a short, "What did you see." It wasn't a question, more of a demand for Thomas to explain his thoughts and it brought Thomas up short suddenly. How does he put into words how Billie acted that made him so assured something was wrong? Thomas went over the morning in his mind eye, the way Billie sat up bleary eyed so late in the day, her hair messed with sleep, bags under her eyes.

The way Billie's right eye drifted, ever so slightly from her left. How her right arm moved sharper than he was used to. The way she'd looked at him so unmasked, a thousand thoughts and a thousand regrets across her face in an instant. Thomas struggled to put into words what he saw, as Billie lifted her right arm and pressed it against her right eye and tilted her head back. The way she went suddenly stiff for all of a half second, and then settled back down into her skin. How she repeated the movement a moment later, incomprehensible, and then how the void just--took her.

Thomas opened his mouth, then closed it again. The transversal was odd; Billie hadn't vanished into smoke and void ash, like burnt papers in the wind as they normally did. Instead rock and stone wrapped around her form, twisted about her, then dropped to the ground and Billie was gone. Thomas couldn't put into words the sudden panic that had gripped him--how terrified he was at the strange transversal and the thought of an intruder in Rudshore, wearing the face of Billie who was so trusted that Daud named her Second that--Thomas caught himself from his spiraling thoughts and looked to Daud.

"She was expressive," Thomas said, words clipped with near uncertainty. "She was tired. She looked exhausted, worn down, off. Her words had more--gentleness. Softer." Thomas paced. "Then she--she reached up to her face and tilted her head back. It was--Void it was strange, Daud. Like she--she was elsewhere for half-a-second and then back. She did this twice and after the second time she slipped into a transversal but it was--it was wrong."

"Wrong in what way," Daud's words were quiet, contemplative.

"It wasn't void ash and smoke," Thomas stuttered over the words. "It wasn't--it was like stone, black as night, sharp as a blade. It--twisted around her. Dropped to the floor heavy. Then...melted into shadow. She was gone by that point."

Daud hummed, then said quieter, "Not every transversal is the same," which brought Thomas up short. Daud traced a finger along the wood of the window, continued his words, "You have the ability to transverse through me--through the Arcane Bond." Daud gestured toward his left hand. "You share in my transversal." Daud looked to him then. "You've seen Attano?"

Thomas paused, then said slowly, "Yes?" He'd been part of a squad that had been out on the rooftops, keeping an eye out for Attano in Bottle Street over a week back. They'd caught sight of the man only after he knocked out two other Whaler's, oddly gentle against them given he had to have recognized the masks, had to have realized who they were.

"What was his transversal like, Thomas?" Daud asked, and it drew Thomas up short.

What was Attano's transversal like? Thomas had seen it; he had clocked it as weird at the time, but brushed it aside and now he couldn't quite realize as to why. Thomas brought his hand to his chin. He had to think about it--the way the light refracted by Attano slipped into that liminal space. The Whaler's vanished into ash and smoke and burnt papers of void shadow; Attano just--winked out of existence and appeared elsewhere, light bent around him void-dark and then he was just gone into smoke. There was a trail, but faint and it faded fast enough that you had to look to see it; dispersed away into air like smoke and light puffed from the end of a cigar.

Thomas said as much as he could, confusion coloring his tone as he spoke his thoughts aloud, and Daud nodded his head.

"It is different for each Marked," Daud said, eyeing his hand disinterestedly. "Whether the black eyed bastard chooses what to give us, or if it's defined by something else, I haven't got a clue. But it is different."

Thomas pressed his lips together, but nodded slowly even as he said a short, "Like how Aelolos can duplicate."

"Or Rinaldo can tether, or Finch can bend time," Daud nodded.

Thomas frowned. "But you can't duplicate," he pointed out. "Yet we--share your transversal?" Daud shrugged, and Thomas realized that this was something Daud didn't even know. How could those who did manifest such different secondary abilities, ones that even Daud didn't have, yet they all share the same transversal, the same inexorable link to the man who had given them this gift?

For a moment Thomas didn't speak, then shook his head sharply. "Are you saying you think the Outsider Marked her?" Thomas bit his lip.

"You are the one who said she was trancing," Daud replied, voice almost too quiet to hear.

"It was--" Thomas paused, then sighed heavily. "It was similar to how you get when he bothers to talk to you." He could see the way Daud's lips quirked up, the slightly bitter slant to them. "You think He Marked her."

"It is possible," Daud said, words even. "You said she woke late?" He turned to look at Thomas, who nodded slowly. "It might be His doing, then."

"But...why?" Thomas asked, confused, hurt. The Outsider decided to Mark Billie, decided to gift Billie with new fantastical powers--but not anyone else? Why Billie specifically? After being so silent to Daud all these years, then coming back only after the hell they'd created for themselves by assassinating an Empress, coming back when Attano had escaped, coming back to give Daud a name and nothing else. "What sick game is He playing?" the words came out rough, almost grief-stricken.

"Who knows at this point?" Daud said back, purposefully blank in his tone. Thomas knew it hurt; knew Daud would look at Billie and feel a sting of betrayal. Billie was Daud's, Billie was the Whaler's, and while they were all through Daud the Outsider's he didn't just get to take one of theirs so easily! "What's done is done. The rest is Void."

Thomas clenched his hands into fists. He ground his teeth together and bowed his head. He felt a sharp sting of bitterness and rage swell in his chest that he worked to stamp out. He wondered if this meant Billie would leave them. He thought to the way she looked, how the emotions--grief, love, sorrow, hurt--flashed across her face and Thomas had to turn away from the window and away from Daud.

"I want you to keep an eye on her," Daud said, suddenly, and Thomas jerked back. He opened his mouth and then closed it when Daud looked at him, eyes hard as steel. "Watch her, see what she does. No more solo assignments for information. You keep an eye on her back and her blade."

Thomas swallowed; Daud stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, face gentling for a moment.

"This can go one of two ways, Thomas," Daud said. "I want to make sure it doesn't bite us in the ass."

A moment, then a nod, and then Thomas transversed away.

Billie stretched as she finally escaped Fisher's clutches, rotated her right arm and sighed tiredly as she dug through her meagre belongings in her space. Blackened, void fingers rested against her red coat, folded up with the Whaler mask settled atop it. After everything that happened in Dunwall originally when Billie fled, she'd buried the coat and mask in the bottom of what little possessions that she had. She kept them for mere sentimental value, but she dared not don them. It felt strange to be in front of them now after everything and to look at them as more than mere relics of her past. These were part of her present now.

Behind her Billie could hear the sound of a transversal--the soft thwip-like sound that indicated a Whaler had moved between the realms, stepped into the void and back out again in the span of half a second. She didn't tense, didn't even turn around because she had a fair good idea who it was that stood here.

"Thomas," Billie said as she picked up the mask to set it aside so she can dress in her jacket. She'd felt so proud when Daud gave her the red coat. Later she found she couldn't stand the color, not for fifteen years as she lived as Megan Foster. Red made her sick then; even now she felt a vague sense of unease with the color, despite having taken on a sleeker form of the coat after she'd dropped Emily off in Dunwall.

"Billie," Thomas said, and Billie glanced to him. She was surprised to see he still didn't have his mask on; it was hooked to his belt as he watched her, hands behind his back. "Fisher finished with you then?" He offered her a faint grin, part of that old teasing moment.

Billie huffed and hooked her own mask to her belt before she began to work through her weapons. "Yeah. Clean bill of health." She didn't mention the way Fisher frowned as he checked her eyes, or her involuntary responses. She knew something was up with her right side--had known ever since the nightmares started after Stilton Manor. The Outsider's 'gift' of void artifacts to replace them had only made it more apparent that something had happened to them, although Billie never did get an answer as to what. Now that she was here, younger and yet not, she wasn't surprised to have some lingering side effects.

Fuck, it hit Billie then and she scrubbed a hand over her face, was she a walking fucking hollow? Billie fought back a shudder and resolved to look at herself deeply with the eye later. Not when Thomas was in her room, looking at her with all the professionalism he wore about himself like a cloak. In fact--Billie turned to look at Thomas with her lips pulled down into a thoughtful frown. Thomas had been one of the few people from her days as a Whaler that hadn't treated her with complete coldness. He'd cared after everything, despite everything, and Billie had kept her ear to the ground about the fate of her mess of misfits. She knew for a long while Thomas had tried to keep the Whaler's together, after Daud decided to fuck off to who knows where.

"Thomas," Billie said, decision made, "your with me."

Thomas seemed to start or a moment; his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open before that mask of professionalism crossed his face again and made it bland, yet pleasant.

"For what?" Thomas asked lightly as Billie turned back to arming herself.

"I'm surveilling the Timsh Estate," Billie pointed out. She was Daud's forward scout, his first contact in matters that he took personal interest. Billie was the one who got him the majority of his information. She ground her teeth in the reminder that it was that job of hers that put her in Delilah's path in the first place.

"Oh, right," Thomas shook his head as if he'd forgotten. Billie quirked her lips. "Why do you need me?"

Billie looked at her wristbow. She wondered what she could say to convince him, then just shook her head. "Back up. Just in case." She'd tell him more when they were out of Rudshore. Thomas deserved that much--and maybe, if she got him on board, she could mitigate her own fucking mistakes. If she could limit Delilah's actions somehow against the Whaler's, manipulate the woman enough that she wasn't aware of how Billie planned to betray her and yet somehow come out of this without getting Daud to knife her again--well, it'd be good preparation for Thomas to take over her position. Better than being suddenly thrust into it after her betrayal at least.

Maybe Daud would even stay this time. Wasn't that a thought? Daud keeping the Whaler's together, instead of them drifting apart until they weren't a family anymore. Billie didn't doubt that she would leave; she couldn't stay here, with them. Not with--not when that tie between her and the former Outsider burned sick in her gut. She couldn't imagine leaving the kid in that hell hole again, to rot away asleep to the world at large, petrified in stone for four thousand years--no. Billie wouldn't stay here after everything was done. After Delilah was dealt with she'd take her leave, find out where the fucking knife was, and cut a bloody swath through those fucked up cultists until she could get to him in the ritual hold.

(it was in Tyvia, wasn't it? hadn't that been what the Eyeless implied? so Tyvia then Karnaca....)

There had to be some poor dead sap in the void that could be convinced to whisper his name, after all. Billie didn't want it to be Daud again, didn't want to wait the fifteen years for it to be Daud again. She couldn't live through it a second time, and fuck it if turned the whole world into a hollow. It couldn't be worse than what they were dealing with before she woke up here.

With that thought in her mind Billie tugged on her Whaler's mask and looked to Thomas, left brow raised behind the mask. "Well?" she asked, voice tinny through the filters.

Thomas' lips quirked up and he tugged his own mask off his belt and slipped it on. He gestured to Billie, said a short, "Lead the way," and Billie grinned.

"Catch me if you can," Billie teased, cast her gaze for a space to transverse to, and disappeared in a flicker of void stone and water.

Corvo snorted awake, blinked his eyes and stared at the cot and the unfamiliar ceiling. It took him some time to place the sight of Piero's workshop. He didn't remember drifting off, but apparently at some point he'd landed on Piero's cot in the workshop and off into the realm of dreams. Corvo looked around, tried to spot Piero and the--the boy. He couldn't see anything on the upper floor, so he rolled off the cot and stretched with a grimace. HIs muscles protested, the still healing injures and scars from his time in Coldridge tugged irritatingly along his torso. He rubbed a hand along the stubble on his face and started his way down the stairs.

"Oh, Corvo." Corvo paused in the middle landing and blinked at Piero who had begun his way up. The inventor looked dead on his feet, and he swayed the faintest bit. Corvo wondered how to get across his question without a means to, but then Piero continued in a hushed voice. "I've done what I can for your guest, but Corvo...he's not in a good way."

With a gesture Corvo motioned to his neck, face pulled into a grimace, and Piero shook his head. "No, no that I've stabilized. The cut was deep but it missed the vital vessels in the neck," Piero said shortly. "I've sutured what I could but I'm not a physician, Corvo." Piero scrubbed his hand down his face. "Give me a good technical system any day, but people? I can't fix people, Corvo."

Corvo nodded, slowly. He knew as much even when he brought the--the boy here. Piero gestured toward the stairs, and quickly Corvo shifted aside to allow the inventor to head up. He followed after with heavy steps.

"It took me most of the rest of the night to stabilize him," Piero said, words short. "You passed out about halfway through. It's midday now." Corvo tilted his head, lips pressed together. "If you really want to help him we're going to need help. Are you sure you don't want to tell Havelock--" Corvo made a sharp gesture, and Piero raised his hands in understanding quickly.

A part of Corvo wondered if Piero recognized the face. He'd read through Piero's journal--he knew that the slighter man had seen the Void. He knew the Outsider whispered in Piero's ear. Had Piero seen his face? Actually talked with him? Corvo couldn't ask, and he hadn't seen the God in his sleep this night. He wondered if he would see him, given the very human shape of that same God rested downstairs.

"I get it," Piero said into the silence, words bitter on his tongue. He grabbed a cup of coffee from the pot on his desk as Corvo followed him silently. "Then I have a request of you, my friend." Piero took a sip of the liquid and Corvo watched, silently. "I need Sokolov."

Sokolov? Corvo cocked his head, lips pressed together. He knw Sokolov. The Tyvian was the Royal Physician after all; did good work, really, when he could be bothered to. Jessamine had him working on the Rat Plague before her death, but Corvo didn't know what happened after. He hadn't seen Sokolov since before his travel to the other Isles on behalf of Jessamine.

"The...others have been talking," Piero said, a grimace on his face. "I can't do much more for the Loyalists as I am. Sokolov is the only one who can really--the protections he's given the Lord Regent..." Piero sighed heavily. "I've done what I can without help. I'm not good enough." His hand tightened on his cup as he said the words, lips ground together. He relaxed his grip a second later. "I have no doubt they're going to ask you to retrieve him."

Corvo didn't hum--he didn't want to deal with the pain in his throat right now, although it was a close thing--instead he turned his head to the side and tapped his fingers against the edge of his pantleg while he thought. Sokolov would definitely be helpful--he could give Corvo an edge around the defensive technology Barrow's had applied liberally throughout the city. If he was in good standing with Barrows too--and given his genius Corvo didn't doubt Barrows kept Sokolov in good standing despite how Corvo wished Sokolov faced hardships like the rest of him--Sokolov could be a unique advantage.

Emily liked the man, too, for all of his annoyances. Corvo breathed out heavily.

"Knowing Havelock though they won't ask you to be gentle," Piero said, a grimace on his face. "And if you are determined to keep him secret--" Corvo made a sharp gesture, head instantly snapped back to Piero who made a placating gesture immediately. "I know, I know. But if you want to keep him secret then you need to be gentle, for all that Sokolov doesn't deserve it." Piero took another sip of his drink.

Corvo frowned, but nodded. He leaned over Piero's desk and dug around until he found a map of Dunwall the inventor had stashed away. After a second he laid the map out and made a short gesture to it, brow eyes narrowed intensely. Piero shot him a bitter sort of grin as he looked over the map.

"I thought I heard them talking," he said, voice soft and conspiratorial, "about Sokolov being holed up on the Kaldwin Bridge." Piero tapped the area on the map and then pushed up his glasses. "I know it'd be easier at night but do you think you--?"

Corvo huffed, but nodded. He traced his finger along the sweep of the Wrenhaven and then glanced back to Piero. It was the best he could get out to ask about the route, and it took Piero a moment to parse the unspoken question, but Piero jolted.

"Oh, yeah, Sam should be good to get you there," Piero nodded. "I hope you don't mind but I asked him earlier while you were resting. It's about...midday now." Corvo frowned. "I had gathered you wouldn't want to leave your guest in dire straights for too long. Given his--well, given everything. I know my strengths Corvo, and this? This isn't it."

Corvo ducked his head, then nodded once and turned to leave. While he disliked having the decisions made for him, Corvo knew in this instance that Piero was right. He wouldn't want to wait, or have to hunt down Samuel for a trip to the Bridge. Knowing where he needed to go, knowing that Samuel was already on board, was one worry to take away from his chest.

"I--I'll just keep watch of him then," Piero said to Corvo's retreating back, and Corvo gave a short wave of acknowledgement, already focused on how he was going to convince the Tyvian Menace of Natural Philosophy to follow him back from whatever cushy position Barrows and dropped the bastard into.

[vagrantblvrd]

@rogueghost​ Tumblr’s still acting weird for me so I had to do the old DIY reply to your ask, but here you go. :D?

Oh, friend! There’s so much lore to Destiny that I haven’t kept up with myself because ~lazy. The AUs I’ve written are a mishmash of Destiny universe and ~artistic liberties on my part, so yeah.

(There’s an amazing video here about the lore thus far that I hope to watch One Day? But, again, lazy and lack of time to sit down to properly absorb it.)

Quick background on the games/Ghosts for those who don’t play the game/want to see me ramble on about A Thing:

The game tells us is the Traveler (giant white space orb/messiah/McGuffin showed up in our solar system which resulted in what’s called the Golden Age where human technology advanced like whoa. (But surprise, surprise, the Traveler was being pursued by an enemy referred to as the Darkness and things got messy for humanity, something that happened to several races that happened to run into the Traveler before us.)

There was an extinction level event several centuries before the events of the Destiny games called The Collapse when the Darkness caught up to it. The Traveler “died”, creating the Ghosts as it did to seek out Guardians...who tend to be dead at the time (they get better) who then join the ranks of the Guardians (who for the most part) fight to save humanity/the universe and/or engage in shenanigans such as flinging themselves off the Tower for funsies and the whatnot. (Guardians have no common sense, btw. Also, lunatics.)

BUT.

Back to your amazing prompt???

It would be this entire Thing on its own because I want to set it before the games back in the days before there was a Vanguard, which from what I gather from the lore I have read was not unlike ye olden medieval days/wild west with sci-fi twist, because yes. (Also, it was referred to as the Dark Ages, so yeah.)

Geoff and Jack are among the first Lightbearers that are referred to as Risen in various bits of game lore, right? Before the Iron Lords and the whole “Guardian” business with the Vanguard and the Tower and all that good stuff.

Back in the days where there were some like them who abused their powers over those who weren’t like them. Grabbing land and wealth for themselves and gaining followers through fear and the whatnot?

They spend a long, long time trying to figure out what the hell is going on because no memories of their past lives and this hellish world they’ve been brought back to with Fallen and God knows what else wandering the lands.

Just these little glowing balls of Light and sass nagging them about finding shelter and armor and weapons,  getting them into hiding when Fallen patrols or other bandits go past.

Abilities before there were proper classes and sub-classes and all that.

Geoff and Jack both lean more towards the floofy jumps and glides of Warlocks. (not that they know what a Warlock even is at that point, of course.)

Jack’s abilities and whatnot lean more towards a support role, but he’s not defenseless, oh no. He learns to use his Light as a weapon and that goes for Geoff too.

They carry guns and knives and in a pinch whatever is at hand.

Run into each other in a little settlement somewhere and at first it’s this Thing where they’re keeping their Ghosts out of sight – Warlords and so on who flaunt their little Ghost friends and the way people have learned to react to them. (And also? Just smart not to go about advertising the fact you’re harder to kill than most, that if they don’t know you have a Ghost you won’t stay down once someone tries to put you in the ground.)

There’s an attack, Fallen or human bandits or some Warlord’s goon squad trying to terrorize the settlement into rolling over for them. Pay a tax or whatever they’d call it back then to “protect” them from the roving bands of Fallen and other enemies.

Can’t do much without giving themselves away – and why would they? They don’t owe these people anything, and that old woman scooping her wares off the ground where her booth’s been knocked down tried to shortchange Geoff less than an hour ago.

The asshole with the weapons parts Jack needed is – okay, he’s kind of dead now, but he lied to Jack’s face about not having them in stock. Said he’d have to ask around, and wouldn’t you know it that would cost more. (Jack can see the parts he was after spilling from a box hidden at the back of the guy’s booth and into the grass, blood all over them and what a mess.)

Still.

Jack quietly takes the parts he needs and leaves the money he would have paid fairly for them and a little more with the boy crouched beside the booth. (His mother’s a settlement over, said she’d be a bit before joining his father with the parts she was bartering for there.)

Sighs as he looks down the road the goons left on and starts after them. Geoff’s munching on an apple he got of a nearby tree and watches him go, all thoughtful about it because there are people mourning here and they don’t owe them a damn thing, and what does that idiot think he’s going to do about it?

So of course he follows, just to see.

The end up killing everyone at the Warlord’s little castle, wherever he’s holed up because none of them will listen to reason and the man’s a blowhard. Full of himself because he’s clearly been chosen for a reason, and what else could it be than to rule over the weaker, lesser people in this section of the world?

And Geoff, God, Geoff.

Died several times getting to this asshole, right? Snipers and assholes with knives and other melee weapons and he was in dire need up upgrading his armor before he waded into this fight, but he’s got his trusty Ghost buddy and this stubbornness that just won’t quit. Smiles because this pathetic weasel playing king and is just like, “Oh, buddy, have I got news for you.” and behind him Jack pops his super, Radiance lighting up the Warlord’s pitiful little throne room.

Geoff lets that sink in for a moment before he fricking nova bombs the Warlord in the face.

It kind of hurts a little, when they see the asshole’s Ghost hiding in a corner of the room waiting for the right moment to resurrect the bastard, because their own Ghosts and the bonds they’ve built with them, you know?

But the little Ghost floats out to the center of the room, looks down at the body of its chosen and sighs because it knew a long time ago it chose poorly. (Maybe the Warlord could have done great things with this second chance, but he chose to do terrible things instead.)

They could kill the Ghost, make sure the Warlord didn’t come back, but -

There’s no point to it now. The Ghost is surprised at their decision, maybe disappointed. (Easier for things to end and not have to consider everything that went wrong because of its choice of course. Having to go on however long with that hanging over it? Nothing like mercy, is it?)

So.

They leave the Ghost behind, and all the dead in the halls and rooms where they fell. Find the path that leads away from the settlement and that small little Warlord and keep walking. (Swear they see a light in the woods along the castle grounds following them for a distance, but they leave it be and eventually it vanishes, wandering as aimlessly as them.)

And then!

They kind of fall in together after that, aren't really friends but there aren’t that many directions to go in, you know? And sometimes the Fallen patrols and whatnot are tricky for one Risen to deal with alone and it’s just.

Convenient.

They’re not bad guys, really, certainly no villains, but wouldn’t you know it? There are a lot of people out there who claim they are?

All these warlords with their bounties and other thieves and grifters with grudges to bear against them. Settlements who aren’t sure what to make of them and are wary of strangers because it pays to be paranoid.

And sometimes they kind of do bad things, pilfer some goods off a settlement where the leader’s an asshole and it’s doing well enough for they won’t miss just a little and so on and so forth. (Ignore the fact they maybe stop ‘round a poorer settlement or homestead kind of place to barter their stolen goods for a place with a roof over their heads for the night and so on. Because unimportant and definitely not a Good Deed or anything.)

Eventually they happen on this little asshole of a Hunter, a kid, really. (Well, no. Just. Young.)

Skittish, almost, the way he acts around them and after they win his trust by sheer dint of doing nothing he joins them beside the campfire they’ve set up.

Well, not nothing. Just. Something?

They set up camp in a clearing of the forest they’ve found themselves in this time. Tired after crossing a snowy mountain rage and it’s warm enough where they are they won’t freeze to death at night. (Once was enough, thanks.)

Hunt and fish and forage for food and leave the Hunter they spot lurking about alone when they realize he’s no threat to them.

Eventually Gavin gets curious enough, or maybe something else because he comes to their campfire with tidbits of food of his own. Treats and delicacies he’s made himself or bought or traded for somewhere else to supplement whatever Geoff and Jack caught/foraged for themselves.

They share stories, mostly Geoff and Jack about their adventures up to then. Little ones, because they’d hate to spook Gavin, scare him back into the forest and probably gone off somewhere they don’t stand a chance of finding him again.

After a while Gavin offers up some of his? Mostly advice for the area around them, dangers to look out for like Fallen patrols and the like.

Geoff asks after this human bandit encampment he heard about from a settlement nearby and Gavin goes quiet. Shifts uncomfortably before he tells them it won’t be a problem anymore and leaves it at that.

They don’t ask because they have stories of their own that end like that and it would just be rude after the goodies Gavin shared with them, so they don’t press.

The three of them wander around the forest for a few days, a week. Headed the same direction to another settlement nearby and it’s pretty nice having someone else around for a change, you know?

But once they reach the settlement Gavin vanishes on them and knowing how skittish he is, they don’t go looking for him.

A few years – twenty, thirty, maybe more – go by before they run into Gavin again.

They’ve left Earth a few times since then, gone wandering in these Jumpships that fell apart on them before too long and they ended back up on Earth.

By that time there’s a new group of Risen calling themselves the Iron something or others, and they’re out there giving the Warlords a time of it to hear the stories.

(A few from this shady guy who owns a bar in this little settlement that grew up to be a tiny town. Tells them about this lady named Efrideet responsible for the hole in the ceiling of his fine establishment, but he doesn’t seem too annoyed about it, so it’s probably fine.)

Run across this kid in a town somewhere, angry as hell and taking on some Warlord’s stooges with just his fists. Seems weapons would just slow him down because he’s doing just fine resolving whatever argument or debate he’s engaged in by punching the shit out of his opponents.

When it’s over they buy him a drink because it saves them the trouble of handling things themselves – picked up a bounty not too far away the kid took care of for them – and they offer to split the reward money since he did all the work.

And Michael, okay.

Squints at them because he sure as hell doesn’t know them, but who is he to turn down a free drink?

He agrees to taking a quarter of the reward because it seems they won’t accept anything less, but whatever. He would have have kicked the shit out of those assholes anyway for trying to bully the people here and this way he’ll have a little extra money in his pockets. (Whatevers.)

They part ways there, but he tells them if they need a hand they’re welcome to in touch with them.

Geoff and Jack wander a little more. Hear about these Iron Lords or whatever they’re calling themselves these days and are understandably concerned because the warlords business and who says these idiots are going to be any better?

(Say they’re out to protect people and all that, but entire settlements, towns, have gotten caught in the crossfire between them and the warlords and the only ones to walk out of it are these Iron Lords. So. Yeah. They’ve got some trouble thinking anyone’s a good guy in that scenario.)

More time goes by and they’re at some little outpost somewhere when Gavin pops up out of nowhere.

Strained look on his face and eyeing Michael who’s with them warily.

Says, “I could use your help,” which is a first because whenever they run into him he’s the one helping them out.

Hell of a sniper and no one better they’ve met when stealth is needed and anyway, anyway, they say yes because of course they do.

Like this little idiot who creeps around the wilds like it’s second nature, goes delving into Darkness Zones looking for God knows what. All kinds of trouble he gets up to and no one watching his back and just.

They worry, okay? They do.

More so with the way he’s all wound up about something. Won’t even tell them what it is until they’re out of the outpost and miles into the woods. Ghosts telling them no one’s around to listen in and even then he’s nervous.

Michael, who’s been quiet through all this loses his temper, snaps at Gavin to get on with with it already, fuck’s sake.

Jack goes to rein him in because Gavin and skittish and just, not what they need right now?

Only as it turns out, it kind of is because Gavin just.

Spills this story about coming across a crashed Fallen ketch in the mountains nearby. Too deep into Fallen territory – and treacherous terrain besides – for anyone to have reason to go up there.

But because Gavin’s an idiot and his Ghost is just as much of one, they went up there anyway.

Snuck past Fallen patrols and the whatnot to get into the ketch and found a Ghost in an odd little device that kept it from transmatting somewhere safe. Little thing begging them to find its chosen because the Fallen had caught them by surprise.

Overwhelmed them in an ambush and caught the Ghost in the cage it’s stuck in, kept its chosen because they thought he had answers they wanted.

Gavin glosses over the interrogations the Ghost told them about, how they’d torture its chosen to the point of death and have it resurrect him to do it all over again and the worst part is its chosen honestly didn’t have the answers to the questions they kept asking him? Resurrected a year ago a most when they were captured and wandering through the area by chance and just bad luck all around.

Anyway, anyway, he knows they don’t know this poor bastard, but Gavin can’t just leave him there, okay? He can’t get the guy out himself, but if they don’t want to help that’s fine, he understands, he’ll find a way -

Geoff and Jack are just like, no, you little idiot no, we’ll help. Just. Don’t do anything stupid okay?

Gavin is like “...okay?” because he didn’t know if they’d say yes – none of their business and sure, they’ve been pretty vocal about not getting involved things that don’t involve them, but that’s all just talk.

(They’ve been getting into trouble that didn’t concern them for a long damn time before now, and hey, Gavin’s kind of their business because they like him okay?)

Michael doesn’t know what Gavin’s deal is, but he’s always up for a fight and nothing better to do and when Geoff and Jack ask if he wants to go along he’s just like, sure, why not?

Gavin isn’t sure about him because Michael is a stranger to him? But he doesn’t seem too bad and Geoff and Jack like him and anyway, the more the merrier?

Thy follow Gavin up to the Fallen ketch, take out Fallen patrols and whatever else in their way headed there. Gavin has to sneak in ahead of them because there are traps and security measures the others would trample their way into and just.

“Be back in a moment,” and goes invisible because he’s got all them Hunter abilities and the whatnot.

There’s this uncomfortably long bit of time where the others are in hiding to avoid being detected and wondering if Gavin got caught by the Fallen. This whole argument about having to break in and save him too, which is when Gavin reappears, all “Took longer than I expected, but it’s all clear now,” and scares the bejesus out of them because Hunter and stealth and where the hell did he come from?

Gavin shrugging and totally not laughing at them as he takes the lead.

They get pretty far in before they’re noticed, and then it’s all fighting and shooting and maybe dying once or twice to be resurrected by their Ghost or picked up by a teammate.

Gavin makes for the trapped Ghost first, figures they might need it by the time they reach this captured Risen which, yikes? (But also smart, and also it’s easier to get and on the way and just. It works out.)

The Ghost they rescue sticks close to Gavin and his Ghost, nervous little thing after all it’s gone through and then there’s more fighting and the whatnot to get to this idiot who got himself caught.

Dicey moments and definitely some dying on their parts because there’s a Fallen tank in the ketch - naturally - and all these Vandals with their fricking wire rifles they don’t see until it’s too late, and anyway.

It’s a hell of a fight to get the guy.

Have to deal with a Kell, because of course they do, but four Lightbearers deal with him better than one or two would have and then they get to rescue the poor bastard.

His Ghost tutting and fussing and Ryan – because of course it’s Ryan – is just like, I’m alright, stop worrying and also?

Suspicious of his rescuers because he’s never seen them and four Lightbearers? Makes him Concerned, okay.

Things aren’t as bad as they were before the Iron Lords or whoever showed up, but it’s still.

He’s not very trusting, is the thing.

Grateful for the rescue and all, but not super friendly. (Which, understandable considering his recent experience.)

The group sticks together for a few days after they get out of the mountains and back down to a nearby settlement. Aren’t surprised when Ryan goes his own way – tells them he owes them one and goes off with his Ghost for more adventures or what have you.

No one is surprised when Gavin follows him all stealthy-like.

Well. Not as stealthy as he could be, because he doesn’t want to make Ryan jumpy about feeling like he’s being watched? But Gavin kind of bonded with Ryan’s Ghost a bit when he first ventured into the Ketch. Couldn’t sneak out right away and ended up living inside it avoiding Fallen for a few days. Crept down to see Ryan, talk to him when he could to tell him he’d find a way to get him out of there, you know?

(Hiding out in some little corner somewhere in the Ketch – too risky to sleep or too paranoid and there’s one or two Fallen watching Ryan he can sneak around to see him. Think about how it’d feel if he was the one in Ryan’s position and how easily that could happen to a lone Lightbearer and how awful it is that Ryan’s been there all that time and no one knew and just. He’s attached now, alright?)

Ryan too out of it most of the time to know about it, but his Ghost tells him about the idiot who went snooping where he really shouldn’t have been. Lurking about the Ketch even after he could have gotten out to make sure he had the layout and patrols memorized before going for help and just.

Everything.

So he’s not worried when the same idiot follows him when he goes on his own way, getting more bold or just bored/curious when he stops pretending he’s not following Ryan and walks into the little camp he makes somewhere.

The two of them traveling around together for a while, a few years, maybe more before they get a call from Geoff and Jack because Michael’s in a situation thanks to this asshole he fell in with somewhere.

Nothing too dire, just need the extra firepower and they help get Michael and his buddy Jeremy out of a Cabal base somewhere.

And then they go somewhere to celebrate and just. Stick together for a while?

Nothing more pressing to deal with – the Iron Lords have things pretty well in hand and all, warlords mostly gone and a semblance of order to things.

But there are still baddies out there, places the Iron Lords don’t have resources to protect just yet and they make a living out there.

Bloody, ugly living sometimes because baddies who were born that way and no one else to handle things and they’re not the bad guys here, but they’re not good either.

The SIVA clusterfuck happens and there’s this...chaos, panic for while. Things get hectic, threaten to go back to the way they were before the Iron Lords and it’s awful right?

This little group of Lightbearers out there doing what they can to keep things from getting too bad even if it means liberating goods and supplies from people hoarding them, refusing to share with those in need. Stopping the more aggressive assholes from trying for power grabs and the lot.

Maybe a few of them think twice about forming the kind of bonds they have when they see what happened to the Iron Lords because they’re not invincible even with their little Ghost buddies, you know?

But they keep on keepin’ on and watch as more and more Lightbearers show up, the City grows and Titans built its walls and the Vanguard come into being. Lightbearers start calling themselves Guardians, of all things.

And that gets derisive snort from Geoff because pretentious much? But the Guardians grow in number, fight against the Fallen and whoever – whatever – else threatens humanity. (Their City.)

Put out patrol beacons and organize strikes and all that nonsense and all these freshly resurrected Guardians going out and doing good things with their second chance. (Some driven by the desire to help mankind and all that, others by the promise of loot and prestige, and those with nothing better to do and a Ghost nudging them in the direction of being helpful.)

Still they hold out for a while, not wholly trusting in the staying power of the Vanguard and what they’re doing in that City of theirs or their Tower after seeing what happened before them.

Eventually though, they get curious.

Or maybe the Vanguard’s heard about them and they got curious.

Whichever one it is, they end up running a few strike together. Do some patrols on the side because guaranteed glimmer for some menial task they would have done for free. (Would have gotten parts and supplies anyway, handful of glimmer, but now? Better pay and earning trust in the bargain.)

Stop having to scavenge for the stuff they need and – this is bonus in Gavin’s mind at least because he’s never forgotten what happened to Ryan – someone besides one of them who’ll notice if they’re in trouble or go missing.

Who will send others to look for them (how many times have they done the same for the Vanguard already? Asked to find some wayward Guardian who bit off more than they could chew) and mourn them if they can’t be saved.

To be honest, Geoff and Jack are all about that side of things with the idiots they’ve joined up with, you know? Michael and Jeremy are one thing, get into trouble for the hell of it sometimes, but Ryan and Gavin?

Those two get up to trouble because they’re too damn stupid. Go off on their own into Dead Zones and everything else all the damn time, wander the wilds for weeks on end where communications are spotty and they won’t know they’re in trouble until long after the fact.

Ray’s even worse, but he’s one of the most capable Lightbearers any of them have met so it’s. Bad, but the whole trust thing?

(And anyway, there won’t be a time they aren’t worrying about any of their idiots, so. Yes.)

Maybe this Guardian business isn’t such a bad thing after all.

Still takes a while before they decide to throw their lot in with them, move to the Tower, but eventually they do.

Have this hidden base of sorts in the wilds all nice and locked down in case something goes wrong – Cabal attacking the city and cutting off their link to their Light, for example – and other hidey spots and boltholes all over the system because.

Paranoia for good reasons and being prepared, and anyway, anyway.

They have this little section of the Tower for their group, little clan, if you will. Pick up new Guardians every so often. Freshly resurrected or ones they hit it off with when the Vanguard sends them on strikes and the whatnot.

Lindsay and Trevor and this whole slew of new idiots Geoff and Jack watch over in their own way.

Gavin is thrilled at not being the only Hunter in the bunch when they find Alfredo. (Or maybe he finds them???)

Anyway, there’s this feeling of safety, security they have now they didn’t before being part of something bigger than themselves. (Not perfect, because the Vanguard can be horrifically shortsighted at times, but they’re doing their best.)

Also?

Loot.

Lots of loot and glimmer and that’s the important thing.

Really.

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@thatsalamander​

why does my screensaver of the night sky look like it's screaming...

[nikexiphos]

Recently read fic recs - Stony, July 2018 edition

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sass squad space au but with halos