#the drifter fanfiction

[xblackjokerx]

Who could ever leave me, darling? But who could stay?

Drifter x f!OC (more infos on AO3)

Summary:

“I am done being a drifter, being remembered as the one that got away. I-, fuck, darlin’, I want to be remembered as the one that stayed. The one that stayed with you till my last dying breath – as the man that loved you, ‘spite the odds.“

Both of them got more names than they can count. Some of them were earned, others were chosen. Just another thing none of them could control. Both of them were pawns destined to become more as the web of light and dark untangled, so it makes sense that they gravitate towards each other, right?

Read here:

Little excerpt:

“Have you decided on a name, yet?”

He really hated that question. How could someone come up with a name when the only thing they can think of is the pain in one's own starving body? How was he supposed to focus on coming up with anything but “Shut up, you stupid demon!” when the only thing that got him going right now was the never-ending thirst burning in his dry throat? He loathed that question. There were more important things right now than coming up with a name no one will ever use. 

He was alone out here. No one would get to know him, hell, even remember him, if he continued to starve.

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

Dawning Oasis ILLUSTRATION BY ROBYN!!! *falling over in happiness*

I do not know if there is a greater joy for a writer than for a beloved artist to have drawn something from their words. I was able to commission @haykebyr aka @dredgensimp and of course I begged for Drifteris.

To my great delight she chose to draw a scene from my story A Dawning Oasis.

The Drifter’s eyes shifted as he talked to a visiting guardian in the Annex, tracking movement behind them. For just a moment his entire face lit up in uncharacteristic glee and then he resumed his usual detached-but-friendly expression. His smile never faltered as he accepted the dark chocolate motes being gifted to him.

He nodded appreciatively at the guardian transmatting away and then his eyes flicked back, snake-like, to focus on the silhouette of an additional shadow in the Annex doorway, his smile becoming a delighted grin. Eris Morn stepped out of the darkness, her green glowing orb in her hands.

“And here I thought my Dawning couldn’t get any better!” The Drifter flipped the coin in his hand into the upturned helmet on his work table, landing it perfectly without even looking at it, as he stepped forward, arms wide offering a hug he knew she would decline. “How’s everyone’s favourite former Hive god doin’ today?”

“Germaine,” Eris glanced over her shoulder before walking up to him swiftly until she was close enough to reach out and lay her hand lightly on his wrist. “I have come seeking refuge.”

“Any time, anywhere, Three-Eyes,” he said, his voice flirtatious while his eyes flicked over her face, carefully analyzing. His gloved hand shifted to brush his armoured knuckles up against the inside of her wrist through her own gloves. She did not flinch away.

“I find myself wearing thin, my composure fraying. It is worse than usual this year. I seek solace… a respite from the near-constant persecution.”

A look of concern came over his face. The flirtatious grin was gone. “Of course Moondust,” he said quietly. “Is it… nightmares?”

“No. I can handle those. I can handle the screaming of the Hive through the ascendant plane. I can handle the whispers. What I cannot handle is…” She looked up at him and sighed deeply, her hand on his arm tensing. “...the cookies.”

The Drifter threw his head back and laughed. “Sick of ascendant oatmeal raisin already? Wanna trade? He spread his free hand out and indicated the set of small boxes piled up on his work table. I have enough dark chocolate motes to last me for the next century. Don’t tell our heroes, but I’ve been sneaking down to the Eliksni quarter every night and redistributing the Dawning cheer.”

“I have nowhere to redistribute mine. They are in piles everywhere. On my work tables, on my ritual surfaces, on the bed, the counter, the floor. I trip on them when I wake. I stumble over them when I try to go to sleep. Even now I fear well-meaning guardians will find me here with you and inflict more upon me.” She stepped closer to him, her voice a low whisper. “If I were to never see an ascendent raisin again, or any raisin for that matter, I would not sorrow.”

His eyes glittered in delight at her willing invasion of his personal space.

“Got a gambit match starting in seven minutes,” he said quietly, not wanting her to move away. “Come up to the Derelict with me and watch the show? Best seat in the house, and… not a single cookie on the entire rig.”

He raised an eyebrow enticingly, tilting his head.

“None at all?” Eris asked hopefully.

“Derelict’s a cookie-free zone, Moondust. Not only that but anyone transmitting on board, that ain’t with yours truly, goes straight to the gambit ready room. They won’t be able to find ya if you’re with me. No festivities. No decorations. No well-wishers. And…” He waved his hand with a dramatic flourish. “...not a single baked treat to be found. A veritable oasis in the overwhelming oppression of holiday cheer.”

He grinned and leaned forward playfully as he spoke, expecting her to draw back or bristle in her usual frustration with his constant flirting. She did not move away.

“I would very much appreciate coming with you.” Her three green eyes stared at him earnestly from behind the cloth wrapped around them, her hand still on his wrist, a look of relief on her face apparent even through her perpetual black paracausal tears.

Time seemed to slow as they lingered in each other’s space longer than was necessary or normal for either of them. He caught his breath and leaned in even closer. She still didn’t pull away.

The obnoxious clang of the Drifter’s pre-game alarm rang out and Eris jumped back with a start, her now-free hand frosting over instinctively to defend herself.

He swallowed, blinking, a frustrated smile on his lips over the ruined moment.

“Five minutes till go time,” he explained, wistfully.

Eris relaxed, the frost dissipated from her fingers.

“You comin’ with?”

She nodded.

“All aboard the escape-from-Dawning express!” He held out his hand once more.

She took it eagerly and firmly in a way that made him briefly hold his breath without realizing he was doing it.

The world shimmered around them as the Drifter’s transmat kicked in and transported them. They appeared in a small room with consoles on three sides and sixteen monitors all showing different views of the same area.

“Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back,” he said, squeezing her hand and releasing it with reluctance before walking through the door, out onto the catwalk.

Eris watched him through the doorway, out of view from the people below. The rogue lightbearer stepped up the metal stairs to his usual platform, tumbling his coins across his knuckles.

“All right, all right, all right. Let’s see what we’ve got.” He looked back at her with a grin and a glint in his eyes briefly before turning back to the guardians assembled for the game. “Hive!” He held up the coin. “Bring a sword.”

Eris heard the murmurs from the participants and listened as several of them swapped out their weapons and gear while the Drifter continued with his pregame patter.

“I’ve always wanted a pet Hive.” He said as he tossed a coin from one hand to the other, flipped it in the air and bounced it off of his ankle. “The ascendent plane must have all kinds of…” He spun around with a grin to wink at her before turning back to the group on either side of him. “...I’m oversharing.” He whirled his arms at the elbows and pointed forward. “Transmat is go!”

He sauntered back into the room with a grin.

“A pet Hive?” she asked him. “Really?”

“I mean, outside of the mass-murderin’ psychopathy and universe-spanning genocide, they’re really just overgrown shrimps, right?”

Eris Morn, Bane of the Swarm, from whom the Hive had taken everything, glared at him reproachfully.

“Besides,” he continued as he walked past her, turning to look into her surgically and magically implanted eyes as he moved toward the console, “on the right person, Hive eyes can be weirdly cute.”

Eris tensed and the soulfire-glow in her eyes flared.

“Not to mention,” he continued, “...cook ‘em right and they’re delicious, make ya see colours for days.”

“Watch yourself, Rat,” she growled through clenched teeth.

He picked up a headset and pushed a button by his ear. “Lock and load, hotshot,” he spoke into the microphone. “Bring those motes to the bank.” He pushed the button again.

“Awww don’t be mad-mad, Moondust. You know I only tease you so much cuz I like you.”

She tilted her head in surprise at the forthrightness of his statement. He stepped close to her, gently touching her elbow. She looked down at his hand and back up at him but did not pull away.

“I’ve got maybe two minutes before I have to say somethin’ again.” His voice was warm now, gentle. “Let me make it up to you. Can I start ya some tea?”

She sighed deeply, her irritation leaving her. “An acceptable peace offering. I would like tea, yes.”

“Sit down in the chair. I’ll be right back.” His eyes sparkled as he walked backwards into the hall before slipping through a doorway.

Eris stood still for a moment, considering his offer. Then she walked to the chair at his console and sat down stiffly, resting her soulfire wreathed Ahamkara bone in her lap.

Not much later, the Drifter reappeared beside her to push two buttons which lit up blue when he touched them. He tapped the mute button on his headset. “Hostiles, incoming at the beach!” he barked excitedly into the microphone. Then he hit the button on his headset again.

“Water’s set to boil.” His voice was soft again. “When’s the last time you ate, Crota’s Bane?”

“I… do not remember. Probably this morning? It was this morning, yes.”

He crouched down next to her, folded his arms on the arm rest for the chair she was sitting in, looking up at her. “I got soup in the crock pot. Been cookin’ all day. Hot and ready. I was gonna have some for dinner now. There’s lots. Will you eat it if I bring you some?”

“Is it made of Hive eyeballs?”

“No. It’s made of chicken, lentils, vegetables and a creamy coconut curry. It’s good. You’ll like it. Trust.”

“That… does sound nice.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.”

He half-stood and reached across the console, leaning across her and bringing his face close to hers. Eris tilted her head quizzically at him but did not move away. He pushed two more buttons which turned blue like the first two. He then pressed the button on his headset, his nose still inches from hers. “Incoming hostiles, at the trees,” he called out before clicking the mute button again.

He stayed there, close, his eyes lingering first on her lips, then looking back into her eyes, and then back to her lips. The corner of her mouth quirked into a half smile. The Drifter’s eyes half-closed and opened his mouth to say something when a shrill continuous whistle pierced their ears from the hallway behind them. They both flinched away from each other in alarm.

He blinked several times, the frustrated smile once more on his face.

“Hmmm…” There was a hint of gentle amusement in her tone.

He opened his mouth as though he were about to say something to her and then shook his head, standing up.

“Incoming tea, from my kettle,” he said it the exact same way he’d have announced it in gambit, as he walked briskly out of the room.

A few moments later he was placing a steaming mug into her gloved hands and pushing more buttons on the console.

“High value target’s on the field. Hunt it down and put some rounds in it,” he said into the headset before re-muting himself.

“Is that team down one person?” Eris asked him, pointing at a screen.

“Yup. The one that jammed out’s getting a warning for that. That’s rude.”

“Do they always lose when they’re only three?”

“Depends on how good the ones are that’s left behind. Mostly yes,” he told her. He pushed the mute button. “Portal’s up. Go say hello!” He waited and then pointed at one of the screens with a grin as Eris watched one of the three-person team run to the other side.

“Embrace the Darkness,” he told the invader.

Eris leaned forward to watch.

“Well done,” she murmured appreciatively as the hunter took out two guardians with headshots from a sniper rifle. Then she gave a small gasp in delight as they danced around the remaining two, dodging and swapping weapons before bringing them both down with a submachine gun.

“Wooo!” The Drifter leaned back and whooped into his un-muted headset.

Eris’ face split into one of her rare open-mouthed smiles at his infectious glee.

“Your invader's back and they just took out the entire opposing team! Glad they're on your side.” He hit the mute button. “With an invader like that, those poor bastards might just pull this off. I’m excited to see how this turns out.”

“As am I,” Eris said quietly, her smile subdued but still present as she watched intently with him, sipping her tea.

He pointed to a progress bar on one of the screens. “When this gets to 100, press this button here,” he reached out, took her hand gently, and placed it on top of the button.

“Won’t you need to know when to talk?” she leaned in as she asked him while he was standing.

Her nose brushed against his ear.

He froze and sucked in a shuddering breath. She smirked and leaned back.

“I um…” He swallowed and gave her a small, almost shy, smile. “I’ll be able to hear it on the feed.”

“Hmmm…” She let her chin rest on her other hand, smiling back at him like she had just won something. “And this is so you can go get the soup?”

He stared back at her, the smooth charismatic mask temporarily gone, his expression uncharacteristically soft. “Yeah,” he said, as though he had forgotten what he was doing entirely and she’d just reminded him.

Shortly after he disappeared into the hallway behind her the number of motes hit 100 and Eris pushed the button, as directed. From down the hall she heard his voice with his usual practiced gambit tone, “Opposing team’s got a primeval. They kill it, they win.”

Eris continued to watch as the other team's mote bank also approached 100 and found a very similar button on that side of the console. As they hit their target she pressed it.

“Ok, you can still win this. Focus on that primeval,” she heard him talking into his microphone behind her. Eris turned to watch him enter the room walking slowly, a bowl of hot soup in each hand. As he placed a bowl on a flat spot in front of her, he silently mouthed the words ‘thank you.’ He placed his own bowl next to hers, flipped a different switch, said “Portal's up. Grab your gun,” to one team and then, with another switch, “Invader's on the field. Get ‘em!” to the other.

Eris smiled at how he always sounded like he was supporting the side he was talking to as she removed her gloves. She ate a spoonful of soup. It was warm and delicious, the taste of it shifting on her tongue, giving her too many flavors at once to process.

“It's very good, but also very complex,“ she said quietly.

“All good curry is,” he whispered before pressing the button on his headset again and continuing to call the match from a stool he’d pulled up next to the chair she was sitting in.

The three-person team had only just begun to damage their primeval when the Drifter pointed out to Eris how their opponents were on the last leg of the primeval damage phase.

“Alas,” she said softly into her soup. “They tried.”

“Oh, it ain’t over yet.” He leaned in closer to her again. “I mean, it might be, but let’s see what our hotshot from earlier can do.” He reached across her and flicked a switch. “Portal’s up,” he said through his headset, “Go make a mess.” He clicked the mute back on.

“There’s no way they can possibly win at this point.”

“Oh yeah? Wanna bet?” His eyes sparkled in glee.

“I have nothing to wager.”

“If the underdogs win, you come over here for dinner tomorrow night. And before you ask, no screeb guts or Hive eyeballs. Actual dinner with actual food.”

She frowned. “A… date?”

“Yeah,” he tilted his head to look her in the eyes. “A date.”

“I do not date.”

“I know. That’s why it’s a bet.” He shook his head side to side slightly to accentuate each word.

She pursed her lips. “And what do I get if the other team wins?”

“Whatever you want,” he said quietly with more intensity than he’d intended.

“Hmmm… if they win…” she began.

“Yeah?”

“You ‘redistribute’ my cookies for me.”

“Deal.”

The four-person team converged on their taken primeval, guns blazing. Eris and the Drifter watched as the primeval’s health indicator decreased rapidly. The hunter from the three-person team ran in, jumped up, and flung two kami into the middle of the fray, summoning a stasis whirlwind.

“Ugh. Too slow,” Eris critiqued. “That will not kill them quickly enough.”

The Drifter reached behind her to flick a switch swapping one of the screens to an over-the-shoulder view of the invader. He left his arm draped over the back of the chair. Eris noted the positioning of his arm while swallowing another spoonful of soup, but said nothing.

The invading hunter switched to their heavy weapon slot, pulling out Xenophage. Eris sat up straighter and smiled grimly as the first opponent fell with one shot, feeding the primeval and raising its health up from a sliver to a still-manageable, but significant chunk.

The Drifter chuckled in her ear as another guardian fell to Xenophage, feeding the Primeval further. “That’s your gun, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice proud. “It is Omar… from my fireteam. His spirit is within it.”

“Still a badass.”

“Yes.” her voice was warm. Then she sighed in disappointment as the invading hunter was taken down by a well-placed punch from a solar titan.

Still holding his soup bowl, the Drifter held up one finger away from it and pointed, drawing Eris’ attention back to the screen focused on the primeval. The stasis whirlwind was still going.

The hunter who had invaded was resurrected on their own side. They immediately began emptying Xenophage into their own primeval from across the map as they ran in. As Eris watched, alerts of the four-person team’s deaths popped up on the screen and their primeval’s health bar skyrocketed back up to full.

“It continues after they are dead!” she said excitedly.

“Yup. There’s a reason people hate stasis hunters more than most in this game.”

The four-person team’s portal came up and their invader ran in, but the three-person team made short work of their primeval, dancing together as the Drifter praised them for their hard-fought win.

Eris leaned back in the chair against his arm. He stumbled over his closing commentary when she touched him. She smiled and finished her soup as the Drifter continued to tell the exiting gambit players how well they would be paid.

With the game over and all participants transmatted away, the Drifter leaned forward and tapped several buttons, killing the feeds and opening up a single screen with a list of people waiting in the queue. He took his headset off and set it beside his empty bowl on the console, his arm still draped over the back of the chair.

“Want more soup?” he asked her gently, leaning in more than was necessary.

“Perhaps later,” she handed him her empty bowl.

He turned back to her after nesting her empty bowl within his just as she leaned forward and their faces once more became far too close together.

They smiled at each other, neither one moving.

“How long until your next match,” she asked, touching his face with her fingertips.

“Ten minutes,” he whispered, staring into her eyes through the cloth that was covering them.

She curled her fingertips slightly and he leaned forward, his eyes fluttering closed as their lips met in a gentle kiss.

After a few moments he pulled back slightly, sucking in a shaking breath. She leaned in further and her hand slid around his neck to press their mouths together again.

Kiss after kiss followed. Reverent. Hungry. Teasing. Soothing. Hard. Gentle. He clung to her as though she might disappear at any moment. She pressed her lips against his tightly, drinking in his affection like he was water in the desert.

Eventually they had to breathe for a bit, but, loath to separate, they instead panted softly against each other’s necks, still holding tight. At some point he had slid off the stool and was partly in her lap, one knee on the floor. Her fingers were laced into his hair. Their breathing was in sync. The Drifter’s hands were soft and trembling, brushing against her face, her neck, pulling her close. Eris’ hands were cool and almost claw-like in how tight she held on to him.

“Hey-o! Drifter! Time for gambit!” someone shouted from one of the platforms in the ready room.

She felt his eyelashes blinking against her skin. He felt her lips smile just behind his ear.

She leaned back, cupping his cheek in her hand, her fingers buried in his beard.

“Driiiiifter!” someone else called.

“You should go start the next match,” she whispered.

“Screw the match,” he whispered back. “Is… is this real?”

She kissed him again. “Yes. Go start the match. I will wait.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

He got up to go and then sank back down to his knees, kissing her one more time before backing away, shaking his head, adjusting his headband, willing the mask of the meretricious rogue back in place.

Cheers echoed through the doorway as he appeared, his coins tumbling on his knuckles once more.

Eris had followed him and stood to watch, just out of sight.

“Took you long enough!” someone called out.

“Ya know what, just for you…” the Drifter pointed and snapped his fingertips, holding out the coin that had appeared with his trademark sleight-of-hand. “Scorn approaching.”

Everyone groaned.

Eris laughed silently and the Drifter’s eyes twinkled as he glanced back at her through the doorway before returning his gaze to the people assembled below.

"Never trust a Scorn!” he told the group as they were preparing for the match. “They're little balls of instinct. Shoot first, talk to it later.”

“You had to piss him off. Scorn are the worst,” someone said on the left.

“You ain’t seen me pissed off, brother.” the Drifter pointed at him. “For both our sakes, let’s hope you never do. Prepare for transmat!" He whirled one arm around his head and sent them off.

Eris handed him the headset as he stepped through the doorway. He put it on and then immediately pulled her into a kiss, pressing his whole body against hers.

He broke away from her lips reluctantly, tapped the side of his headset, spouted off some words of encouragement, and re-muted it so he could sink back into her lips again.

Three matches later, Eris was comfortably snuggled against the Drifter in his lap, pressing buttons for him with calm precision as he called the matches between tender feverish kisses, soft clinging touches.

Here they were, two of the most hardened, vicious, efficient killers, survivors of more horrors than any reasonable person could withstand and, for the first time in longer than either of them could remember, they were both content, smiling, quietly drunk on being gentle with each other.

. . .

The next evening, after a long shift at her post in Sanctuary on the Moon, Eris returned to her living quarters for a few moments of solitude before she would need to leave for the dinner she’d promised to attend for losing her gambit bet: her ‘date’ with the Drifter.

As she entered through her doorway she froze. Something had changed. It took a moment for her to realize what it was. She stood in the middle of her rooms looking around, first in surprise, and then genuinely impressed. There was not the slightest trace of an ascendent oatmeal raisin cookie anywhere.

At some point while she was working, the known thief, conman and criminal she had spent the last evening passionately kissing had snuck in through her perimeter defenses, skulked undetected past the many guardians who had been visiting her all day, bypassed the locks on her doors, and stolen every single one.

“A happy Dawning indeed,” she whispered to herself as she prepared a Hive portal to the Derelict, a small smile on her face.

[pmpmyread]

spreading positivity for yourself and for others: what are some fanfics you've written that you're proud of? who are your favorite writers in the fic community?

Hey Anon, thanks for your lovely ask! Sending some positive vibes right back at you 🩵

Your first question tasks me to choose a favorite among my children lol but I will give it a shot.

Distraction is a Drifter x Eris Destiny 2 fic I wrote last year. I'm proud of it because it was my first try at tiptoeing back towards the romance genre after over a decade since writing my previous fic (a FFVIII Squall x Rinoa thing I'd written on ffnet back when I was 19 lmao). It's pretty tame, I even stopped just short of tagging it as Romance, opting for Romantic Friendship instead, that's just how chicken I truly was LOL. My writing has definitely improved since, but ultimately, composing and sharing this fic helped alleviate some of my self-doubt at the time.

Nanami Kento & Casual Touches is one of my earlier JJK x Reader fics. I'm proud of this one not only for what I've created but the way by which it was produced. To this day, it was the easiest time I've had writing anything during what happened to be a difficult period for me. I'd somehow managed to turn my turmoil into one of the most hopeful and positive pieces I've ever written. Corny as it sounds, that story and that moment truly did so much for me. The only negative here is that I've been chasing that elusive high ever since LMAO.

I've answered a variation of your second question within a recent ask linked here, so do check that out as well, but I will certainly add some more inspiring writers below, along with my current favorite work of theirs.

@mysteria157 (JJK): Incredibly deep stories with some of the strongest and most admirable MCs you'll ever read. Rec: Love's Ransom

@rahuratna (JJK + BNHA): Intricate and immersive universes depicted in the most beautiful prose. Rec: Arangetram

@cmdrfupa (JJK): Expert-level character studies skillfully wrapped into elaborate narration. Rec: Furtive

@espace--positif (LaDS + JJK): A fluff merchant. Target-precise canon characterization depicted in wonderful, feel-good fics. Rec: Mornings with Him

@imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese (Destiny 2): Insightful and healing stories that truly dig deep into the vast Destiny 2 universe and the complexity of its characters. Rec: Perfection

This list is FAR from exhaustive as I've recently connected with so many talented writers within these different fandoms and I still have a ridiculously long TBR list. I will definitely create a recs list sometime soon. If there is one thing I am confident about, it's my fan work curation skills. lol 💅🏽

Thanks again for your ask, Anon, it was a great way to start my day 🩵

[zalia]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Destiny (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Osiris/Saint-14 (Destiny), The Drifter & Osiris (Destiny) Characters: Osiris (Destiny), The Drifter (Destiny) Additional Tags: Alcohol, Heavy Drinking, Angst, Memories, Reminiscing, Friendship, Game: Destiny 2: Episode: Echoes, Game: Destiny 2: Episode: Echoes spoilers, Spoilers, Depression, Neurodiversity, The Sundial (Destiny), Osiris/Saint-14 Angst (Destiny), The Iron Lords (Destiny), Camaraderie, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Anger, Insecurity, Pain, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD Summary:

Sometimes the only person you can talk to is one that you knew before you were a legend. Unfortunately for Drifter, that means playing bartender to one belligerent, and heart-broken, Phoenix.

[i-hug-exploder-shanks]

ficlet request: drifter telling a bar story from when he ran the end of the world bar at the bottom of felwinter peak - include as much gratuitous felwinter as you like - bonus points if he's telling the story to eris <3

This one got a little away from me. I rewrote it three times and just couldn't figure out what I wanted to do for it. I hope you enjoy anyway!

Sliding a filled glass down the counter Drifter leaned forward with a grin, surprised but not upset to see Eris had dropped by the Ether Tank. It was late and very few others were there at that hour but Saint-14 was sitting in a booth in a corner with his Warlock curled against him. Osiris looked like he had already had three drinks too many but Drifter wasn't about to tell him how to live his life.

He wasn't surprised given the date, he had been thinking of getting a little sloshed himself.

"Everyone has been rather morose today. Usually that's my job." Eris hummed making him laugh.

"Reading my mind? Its a good day to be sad on sunshine. It was years ago today that the Iron Lords failed their raid for SIVA." He hummed and she sipped the drink he had given her.

"I know the tale from Shaxx but had not known them myself. They were your friends?" She asked and he snorted.

"As much as you could be friends with someone like Lord Felwinter I suppose. He helped me take care of a few... Issues. I helped run the bar at the foot of his mountain and keep the Lords up top in touch with the lowly vassals below." He admitted starting to clean a class just to have something to do with his hands as he spoke.

"That's how I met the great phoenix Osiris too. Although he was less of a phoenix and more of a time bomb back then. Lit the place on fire quite a few times." He admitted.

"It happened twice! Twice! And the second time was your own fault!" Osiris cut in glaring at him and Drifter grinned.

"You're tempting a third tonight birdy. No Felwinter here to put out the flames either." He said and Osiris made to stand but Saint stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"We do not need a fight. I am here and can stop any flame that would spark up but Osiris is no longer a student either. He is much better versed in his light." He said and Drifter shrugged.

"If you say so. I have to admit the first time was a bit of a shock. I had heard of his visions but didn't realize how violent they were." He admitted and Osiris sighed rubbing his face tiredly before looking at Eris.

"I used to go into such deep traces that I lost control of my body and light. It's why I was seeking help from the Iron Lords in the first place. It's one thing to randomly combust out in the desert and another to do so in a dense wood or worse an occupied home. I knew I needed to master my abilities or they'd hurt more than just myself. Felwinter was a diligent teacher and a dear friend." He said seriously.

"He means that in the same way he and Saint are dear friends nowadays. The first time he lit the bar on fire might have been an accident because of a vision but the second time was because he drank half my store and started going on about wanting Lord Felwinter to step on him." Drifter laughed and Osiris groaned hiding his face in Saint's chest.

Eris hid her own smirk in her drink. "You had a thing for your teacher?" She asked honestly intrigued by the interplay. She also noted that Saint didn't seem surprised or bothered by the knowledge at all.

"You have not met Lord Felwinter. He was very charming. I had tea with him once when on his Peak bringing a request from my father. I think the reason so many people were so mad at him all the time was because of how tight his pants were and how he showed no interest in being helped out of them at all." Saint said shaking his head as Osiris actually laughed.

"That's not true. He just didn't feel urges for it like you or I. Warlord Shaxx certainly earned his interest and I certainly had to wash enough laundry while there to know he had to been doing something." Osiris said abd Eris tilted her head slightly.

"I thought that something would have been you? Didn't you admit to wanting him to step on you?" She asked looking back to Drifter who was smirking.

"There were huge pots around on which Iron Lords were with who. I was running them or I would have put my money in on Osiris and Felwinter being a set until Shaxx was dragged along. Then I wasn't so sure. But the way he reacted to Osiris' incident sealed the deal for me that they were something." He admitted.

Osiris looked at his empty glass and sighed. "Felwinter and I were partners at the time, yes but it wasn't exclusive. We both saw other people as well. However it was nice to have someone I could trust. I... I believed at the time he trusted me as well." He said and Saint pulled him against his side more tightly in a slight hug.

"He lied to everyone about Rasputin and it was clear he did so for your safety. I am certain he feared that telling you would bring you harm. I can not say I would do differently if I had been in his position. Having the Warmind as a father... Ha! Explains why he hit like a warsat! He was strong for a warlock. You are all so small with such little arms! You usually need your magics to get the better of a Titan but I saw him once punch Saladin's head right off! I think he was taking lessons from Shaxx." Saint laughed.

Eris finished her own drink and looked at Osiris finally deciding to be brave and ask her own question.

"Did you... See it?" She asked. The hive had their own forms of peering into the future and she trusted the divination she performed through it.

"Site 6? Yes. Many times. But not in enough detail to be certain. Still... I had my doubts. I confronted him about it and we argued. I told him even if I was wrong, if he left I would not be waiting for him when he returned. I understood the draw of SIVA but it just sounded too good to be true. Saint had offered me accommodations here in the city so I took him up on the offer. I only returned to the temple once to help Saladin lock everything up. I regret that the last of our time together was an argument but I don't regret my choice. Especially knowing that he knew about Rasputin." He admitted before they all sat in silence for a moment.

"You should take a bottle up to Shaxx for me when you head back to the tower. I would but.. well... The big guy kinda scares me." Drifter said holding out a bottle as Saint helped Osiris from their booth, the warlock wobbling a little.

"Shaxx is harmless as a kitten... If the kitten was a mountain lion kitten that could spit fire from it's mouth." Saint said cheerfully.

"We will do that. Good night Drifter. Good night Eris." Osiris said accepting the bottle and walking out arm and arm with his partner.

Eris finally turned back to Drifter and leaned her head on her palm. "Any other fun stories about the Iron Lords?" She asked and he grinned.

"For you sister? I have histories." He agreed and poured her another drink.

[bumblepony]

I made a little something for @hypnotisedfireflies on her special day.

He let the scarf fall from her eyes and waited, breath held while she took it in. She gasped and took a hesitant step forward. “Is this?” Her fingers reached out, brushing reverently over the light wood.

“It is.” Joel smiled and shuffled forward to lift the top off carefully. He placed that on the ground and removed the next lid, revealing the shallow box of frames, each with a fragile beeswax foundation set inside. "Now, ya never have to go without.”

IE: Joel makes Tess a special gift now that they are settled in Jackson.

🐝🍯

[a-driftamongopenstars]

tea party; drifteris ficlet

just wanted to write a tea party for Eris okay 🥺

A dainty trail of steam rises from a simple cup. It is warm in the cup of her hands as Eris raises it to her lips and takes a sip of the hot flowery drink. The taste fills her mouth, every sense touched upon - and it makes her smile.

Across the table, the Drifter repeats her motions, drinking his own tea, his eyes fixed on Eris.

They sit in quiet contemplation of her room, darkened with evening windowless shadows. Only a scatter of Hive bulbs and glyphs glow here and there, eerie green. But the quiet is welcome, for Eris rarely got to enjoy it - until now.

"This is a good brew," Eris says.

"Thought you might like it. Nothing like a cup of jasmine tea to make your day better and to wake you up."

"Hmm," she agrees, taking another sip.

After a few more, she settles the cup on the table. Her hands rest in her lap, holding tightly onto her eyewrap.

The Drifter plucks the small kettle off the table and refills their cups with the golden brew, swirling leaves getting caught within.

"Next time I'm bringing oolong."

Next time.

"You are very serious about this tea party business. As serious as about your Gambit."

The Drifter laughs.

"When the world's about to end, you don't wanna let all this go to waste. Besides, I heard you wanted tea, and tea I've got."

Eris picks her steaming refilled cup and swirls the tiny leaves that escaped from the teapot. She feels her face warm with a small smile, something her muscles forget they can do, but more and more it happens when the Drifter is near.

"Thank you," she says quietly but earnestly. For many things, for being there, for listening and for hearing her. Eris knows those things don't need to be spelled out, he knows.

The Drifter leans on the table, hiding his face in the shadow, but his voice is a-smiling too.

"It's fine. Wait till you try this jasmine tea cold. A whole new world!"

[venture-through-the-mist]

Careful, This Beast Bites

Drifter Lēna meets someone shockingly familiar the first time she dares to approach Kullervo’s Hold. A voice she never thought she’d hear again. A voice she’d never wanted to hear again.

TW:

Brief mentions of canon-typical violence.

Very, very brief, non-graphic mentions of abuse.

With that out of the way, the fic begins under the cut.

The first time the Drifter ventures to the large floating island dubbed ‘Kullervo’s Hold’, she has little idea of what to expect. Her Kaithe—still unnamed, she cannot, for the life of her, figure out what to call the beast—lands atop the tallest tower, and as Lēna dismounts, she hears the sing-song voices of children chanting. From what she can gather, they’re telling tales of the soldier imprisoned here, the one for which the island is named. She shakes her head decisively, a short huff escaping her. Kids will be kids, she supposes, before eying the path into the gilded tower. That must be where she needs to go, and go she does. As she walks through the hall, leading towards the circular arena, the Drifter notices a figure seated at the edge of the odd section of tower that overlooks the arena. She tilts her head, his blue ceramic skin resembling that of any other Duviri citizen, though she cannot shake the stinging feeling that she knows him.

“Do not block my light.” The annoyed scoff catches her attention. Something about his tone, his inflection, the condescension in his voice strikes a knowing chord within the woman’s mind. Her eyes narrow. No. Before she can stop herself, her hand darts to her trusted Sirocco, the pistol that has saved her time and time again at the hands of the Dax soldiers hunting her day in and day out. Her blood chilling like ice, she fires a single shot into the man’s forehead, though the bullet passes through as if he’s not sitting in front of her. Fury rises within her, and she simply turns away, whistling for her Kaithe. The beast canters towards her, hooves clopping against the stone floor of the outcrop, and she jumps onto its back, pushing it into a gallop towards the edge of the island. As her Kaithe spreads its wings, as she feels the wind lash against her face, as it whips through her short hair, Lēna only has one question, hissing it to whatever sadistic deity clearly has it out for her.

“What the fuck is Ballas doing here?” The only answer is the whistling of the wind and the strong beating of her Kaithe’s wings against the air currents. 

The next time the Drifter brings herself to return to the cursed prison, she really doesn’t have much of a choice. It seems Lodun enjoys a fight, and also seems to believe that Kullervo will have his uses. She huffs in partially irritated amusement as the so-called Prince of Fire insults the Warden. So that’s his title here. The Warden. Fitting, he always enjoyed controlling anyone he could, what better subject—victim—than a criminal with no means of escape? Once again, she walks onto the area overlooking the arena, once again she hears his deceptively elegant, definitely grating voice, filled with clear disdain as he notices her presence. 

“What are you? Beggar, lunatic, or monarch clad in rags? Ugh. Trouble me not, chimaera.” Lēna scowls, speaking curtly. The sooner she gets this over with, the sooner she can move on and forget that he’s here. The sooner she can pretend that Ballas’s appearance—though, she’s not entirely sure that this is Ballas, he certainly doesn’t look like him, and from what Mag told her, he’s dead—doesn’t completely gnaw at her mind, reminding her of the months, perhaps longer—time is subjective to her anyways, and she didn’t care much about what day it was when she was running for her life—that she spent trying to fix what he ruined. 

“I’m here for the prisoner. I’ve heard he’s a formidable opponent.” Not-Ballas rolls his eyes, though snaps an impatient response.

“I keep him locked up here for his own safety, and that of all Duviri. Care to find out why?” The Drifter’s lip curls into a half-snarl, matching his tone closely. If this is how he’s going to act, she’ll give it right back. Regardless of if this ‘Warden’ is Ballas or not, his voice is already getting on her nerves.

“Obviously.” She’s allowed down into the arena without much argument—he seems to enjoy watching the prisoner get punished, she realizes with a sinking feeling—and as she fights with Kullervo, Lēna finds that she has a rather difficult time blocking out the Warden’s taunts. It’s as if she’s back in the Origin System again, and by the time she’s defeated the criminal—though, it was really more of an intense sparring session…seems they both needed to get some anger out—her mind is clouded with white-hot fury. Instead of leaving the island, as she’d planned, she stalks back towards the Warden’s viewing point. She knows before she even pulls her swords out that the blows will simply glance off of him, unable to mar his ceramic ‘skin’. But, she can’t deny a certain, momentary satisfaction as she lands several slashes across his gilded torso. As with most things, however, the satisfaction is only fleeting, and as she rides off, following Lodun’s next set of instructions, Lēna only finds herself more frustrated, angry, and confused than before.

The third time, she’s determined to get to the bottom of this, to find out what the hell he’s doing here, in her domain. The gray sky serves as a perfect accent to her mood as she explores the arena, realizing that, outside of each cell, there are plaques detailing Kullervo’s crimes. She remembers what Acrithis had told her once, realizing that the prisoner was once a member of the Origin System. The Drifter smirks as she reads, finding that she and the attempted assassin would’ve gotten along well, had they been around at the same time and place. As she reaches the end, Lēna finally realizes who, or rather what, the Warden is. He’s little more than a manifestation from Kullervo’s mind, a twisted version of the Executor that he had attempted to kill. She mutters to herself, her voice raspy from lack of use—after all, there really aren’t many people to talk to here.

“Wish he’d been around when I was there. Could’ve saved us some trouble.” She makes her way up to the outcrop, her hatred still burning, though tempered slightly with the knowledge that this isn’t actually him, that the Warden is simply a manifestation. He must notice her narrowed gaze, or the ghost of a snarl on her lips, because the ceramic-skinned man snaps harshly.

“Do not eye me so venomously. I do not know you.” His words only serve to deepen the scowl on the Drifter’s face. She hisses a reply, hardly thinking about anything else other than the fact that she knows him, or the person he was based off of.

“No, you don’t. But I know you, Warden.” The low growl causes his metallic face to crease, a movement similar to an eyebrow raise creasing what would be his brow bone if he wasn’t made of ceramic. Lēna says nothing more, smirking at his confused, irritated silence as she makes her way down to the arena. She still can’t block out his taunts as she spars with Kullervo—she finds that she certainly has a new respect for the prisoner now—, but they don’t affect her fighting skills as much as they had previously. As she shoots at the prisoner, she ‘accidentally’ aims upwards, where she knows the Warden is seated. She knows the bullet won’t hit him, but she also knows that this is what he deserves. Yes, he might not be the real Ballas, but he’s based off of him. That’s enough for her. Ballas tortured Lotus, attempted to kill—succeeded, really—both her and Mag, and was responsible for hurting so many others. If she had to listen to his horrible voice every time she ventures to this island, Lēna figures she may as well get something out of it. It’s cathartic in a way, she finds. Not the whole ‘trying—and failing—to hurt him’ thing, because of course not, she isn’t completely insane. But, being able to focus her anger on a manifestation of Ballas, since she can’t do so on the actual Orokin, is…well, she finds she’s unable to actually describe how that feels, but there’s something about it that lessens her stress, lessens her worry that somehow he’ll come back and hurt Lotus and Mag again. She may not be as connected to Lotus as the kid is, but she did nurse her back to health, and gods-damnit, that counts for something. She doesn’t want her to get hurt again, nor does she want that for Mag, who’s become almost like a younger sister to her. So, if she has to stab the Warden in order to convince herself that Ballas will not—cannot—come back, so be it. She never said she was a hero. Hell, she’s hardly even good. That’s fine by her. A caged beast has to bite eventually, doesn’t she? 

[ravenousbites]

The fifth chapter of my fanfic is done.

[baede-6]

Hi! So I know this is a lil bit of a longer post, so you don't have to post it if you don't want to, but I thought maybe you'd like to read a fanfic I finished up today. It's about Eris and Drifter, but they do eat ramen during it hehe 😆

Scars

"Drifter? What are you doing here?"

  Eris opened the door of her apartment wider, admitting a wet haired Drifter inside.

  Eris wore her usual robes, but without the armor on top, maling her look somewhat more tranquil. Her hood rested over her head, concealing most of her dark hair save for a few wisps that hung around her eyes, the glowing green of her concealed pupils studying the Drifter as he entered.

  "You walked here through the rain?" She asked, noting the drops of water weighing his hair down and sparkling in his beard.

  "Yeah, uhh," he ran his hand through his hair, slicking it back. "I just happened to be in the area, so I figured I'd drop by."

  "You just happened to be in the area?" Eris asked, eyeing him with suspicion.

  "Yeah... hey, you got somethin' cookin'?" He asked suddenly, sliding past Eris and walking into the small cramped kitchen.

  "It is only instant ramen." Eris told him, pushing by him to stir the noodles bubbling in the pot on the single stove eye.

  "Instant ramen, huh?"

  "It is what I had lying in my cupboard, and I am not in the mood to go out in the rain to buy freshly made ramen."

  The Drifter shrugged. "Reckon I hear that. You can't say no to a good 'ol pack of instant ramen. Anyway, I'll leave you to your dinner, Moondust. Just wanted to drop by 'n say hello."

  He shot her a grin, sliding a hand along her arm before turning back to the front door.

  "Wait." Eris said just as his hand began to twist the doorknob.

  "Yeah?" He smirked. "You miss me already?"

  Eris looked down at the boiling noodles, then back at the Drifter. "Will you stay for dinner? I can put in another pack of noodles."

  The Drifter began to smile, but then stopped himself to ask, "you sure, Moondust?"

  "Yes. Stay. I wish for your company."

  And with those words she left the room, returning a minute later with a towel and another pack of noodles.

  "This is for your hair." She said as she handed him the hand drying towel, then put the square of hard wavy ramen into the boiling pot.

  The Drifter slipped off his bandana, letting it slide up his arm as he briskly massaged the towel around his head and through his hair.

  By the time he had his hair mostly dried, the noodles had been put into bowls, a sliced egg on the side of each.

  The Drifter set the towel down and slipped off his gloves, accepting the bowl and chopsticks that Eris held out for him, his forehead still bare.

  "Come, we may sit in here." Eris guided him to a nearby room, her own bowl of food in hand.

  It was cramped, just as the kitchen was. The room contained a bookshelf overflowing with books, a coffee table that was covered in many old and large volumes along with yellowed papers, and an old faded sofa.

  Eris sat on one end of the sofa while the Drifter sat on the other, both eating their dinner in silence, merely enjoying the sodium rich noodles and one another's company.

  The Drifter cleared his throat, having finished off the last of his food. "Thanks for the ramen, Moondust."

  "You could have made for yourself something far more appetizing and flavorful aboard your Derelict, I am sure." Eris pointed out, finishing the last of her ramen.

  "Eh, I'd rather eat pre-packaged food with you then somethin' else up on the Derelict alone." He offered her a genuine smile, his hair still a mess from when he had dried it earlier.

  Eris let out a chuckle.

  "What's funny?"

  "Your hair. It is a mess, quiet unusual from how it typically is."

  The Drifter began running his fingers through his mussed hair, trying to make it somewhat decent. Eris laughed this time, scooting across the sofa to sit beside him.

  "Here, look at me." She began to slide her nimble and calloused fingers along his scalp, smoothing out his hair the best she could.

  "This is why you are always wearing that bandana, is it not? So that your hair will not fall in front of your face?" She asked with an amused smile, brushing her fingers along the hair that had fallen over his forehead.

  "Don't mock me," the Drifter replied, grabbing his bandana.

  "No- wait," Eris interrupted him before he could slide it back on. "I like you without it."

  The Drifter opened his mouth, as if to give her some kind of clever comeback, but found he had nothing. He chuckled, turning his face away to hide his flushed cheeks.

  "It is curious," Eris finally began after a moment of awkward silence.

  "What?" The Drifter asked, meeting her gaze once again.

  "Curious that you, a weilder of the Light, bear scars across your cheeks. Why?" She asked with genuine curiosity, her eyes studying the jagged scars.

  "Oh, heh," he brought a hand up to run along one of his cheeks. "Honestly? I ain't gotta clue. Had 'em when I was rezzed." He shrugged. "Guess it's just somethin' from my old life."

  "Interesting." Eris reached out a hand. "May I?"

  The Drifter looked at her hand, then back at her with eyes full of trust. "Sure,"

  Eris brought her hand to his face, noting the way he eagerly leaned into her touch as she started at the tip of his scar and slid her finger down along it, taking in the difference of feeling between the smoothness of his skin, and the roughness of his beard.

  "You recall during when we had discovered a seed of the Tree of Silver Wings?" Eris asked, trailing down another scar.

  "Yeah. What about it?"

  "During that time when I was with the seed beneath Io, I had been attacked. Merely by a Hive's claw, but it left me injured for some time."

  "Yeah, I remember seein' you limpin' around." The Drifter said.

  "Indeed. My leg, healed, of course, but the mark remained."

  "Yeah?"

  "Yes."

  "May I?" The Drifter asked, taking his face from her palm, his gaze lingering on her knee before returning back to her regardful eyes.

  Without a word, Eris brought her hands to the bottom of her right pant leg, rolling it up with brisk neatness, the Drifter watching intently.

  She rolled it up to just above her knee, allowing the Drifter to view the scar that ran along the curve of bone and down her shin. She watched his trembling hand come closer, closer, until the tips of his fingers met gently with the pale cool skin of her scar.

  He slowly trailed his hand down the scar, studying it with an observant eye.

  "You probably got plenty more scars, huh?"

  "Quiet a few many. They trail down my arms, tear through my legs. Many have made their home across my own face," she brought a hand up to slide down the side of her face, over the blindfold. "They will forever huant me with nightmares of the past, of times that will never be forgotten. Of the dark, deafening caves of the Hellmouth, the putrid odor of the Hive, of bodies falling and rotting. The sounds as they hunted me through the everwinding darkness. Those days are unforgettable, as are the scars that have followed. Perhaps... one day I may show them to you."

  "I'd like that." The Drifter replied, meeting her eyes with a strange and rare intensity.

  "Then indeed," Eris nodded. "I will show them to you. One day."

👏👏👏

I love it! This was so good! 😃

Thank you so much for sharing this with me! 💚🖤🍜

[crispy0nion]

apparently i never shared my drifteris fic on here?? i wrote this earlier this year and honestly it remains my best work to date, plus it's officially approved by drifteris CEO moon (and based on prompts they gave me specifically for it). anyways live love laugh drifteris

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

Hey Ikora

Link to Ao3 if you prefer to read it there

VANNET PERSONAL VANTOWGUESTACC/ 6cc842de4888f9899a1f0e9ed97c2efa >> VANCINCLOCK IKORA REY

Hey Ikora,

Three-Eyes says hi. We're going on a scavenger hunt for weird Darkness bullshit and Vanguard's not invited. Back in like a week. Don't freak out.

No salutation entered, “VIP #1315”

.

VANNET PERSONAL REMOTEACCESS/VANTOWGUESTACC/ 6cc842de4888f9899a1f0e9ed97c2efa >> VANCINCLOCK IKORA REY

Hey Ikora,

Apparently we've been workin for you the whole time and she only just told me. My bad. I didn't ask. Anyway, she's left a package for you. Says to send a field agent to come get it. Coordinates attached. Don't send Aunor. We don't like her.

Transmat firing, D

.

VANNET PERSONAL REMOTEACCESS/VANTOWGUESTACC/ 6cc842de4888f9899a1f0e9ed97c2efa >> VANCINCLOCK IKORA REY

Hey Ikora,

You're gonna love this. Did you know there was a small Shadow Legion outpost buried in one of the rings of Saturn? We didn't neither. Fixed that for ya. Might wanna send someone to come clean it up though. We made a mess.

Have fun! Nony Mouse

.

VANNET PERSONAL REMOTEACCESS/VANTOWGUESTACC/ 6cc842de4888f9899a1f0e9ed97c2efa >> VANCINCLOCK IKORA REY

Hey Ikora,

I'm typing this out exactly as she's sayin' it cuz I dunno what in the hell it means:

There is a lay line disturbance which is generating concretions of Darkness energy in the sediment which in turn are creating environmental hazards on the surface of Ganymede.

I think she wants you to send some Guardians to come and shoot it.

Toodles! Deeznutz

.

VANNET PERSONAL REMOTEACCESS/VANTOWGUESTACC/ 6cc842de4888f9899a1f0e9ed97c2efa >> VANCINCLOCK IKORA REY

Hey Ikora,

You've known Moondust for longer than me. If someone wanted to get her something special that'd make her super happy, you got any suggestions? I said something hilarious and she did not agree with how funny it was. She's real pissed at me and I do love making her mad, but not this mad, ya know? Help a fella out?

Transmat firing, D

.

VANNET PERSONAL REMOTEACCESS/VANTOWGUESTACC/ 6cc842de4888f9899a1f0e9ed97c2efa >> VANCINCLOCK IKORA REY

Hey Ikora,

Heard some of your spies went places they shouldn't of and now there's a mess in the Annex. You could'a just asked. Get Aunor to clean it up with a toothbrush or something and we'll call it even.

Later, N. O. Buddy

.

VANNET PERSONAL REMOTEACCESS/VANTOWGUESTACC/ 6cc842de4888f9899a1f0e9ed97c2efa >> VANCINCLOCK IKORA REY

Hey Ikora,

Eris says: The sedge is withered from the lake and no birds sing. Hope you know what that means cuz I sure as hell don't.

Ciao, Noman

.

VANNET PERSONAL REMOTEACCESS/VANTOWGUESTACC/ 6cc842de4888f9899a1f0e9ed97c2efa >> VANCINCLOCK IKORA REY

Hey Ikora,

Want anything from Neomuna while we're out here? Nimbus says hi. Osiris said something too but I stopped listening after he started using words like "weft" and "transmutation." Also Three-Eyes don't hate me no more. Thanks for the help.

Catch you soon, D

.

VANNET PERSONAL VANTOWGUESTACC/ 6cc842de4888f9899a1f0e9ed97c2efa >> VANCINCLOCK IKORA REY

Hey Ikora,

Was quarantining the Annex really necessary? I already got past all those locks and shit your people put up but I need to run a business here. I left your Biohazard, Restricted Access, and No Entry signs in a pile under the stairs.

Transmat firing, 1315 in da house

[pmpmyread]

Ergo Sum // A Destiny 2 fanfic

My contribution to #Destinytober24 for the Ergo Sum prompt!

Summary: In which Eris Morn thinks, therefore she is. Pairing: The Drifter x Eris Morn Content Tags: SFW, Slow Romance, Hurt/Comfort. Eris reflects on Hive godhood, Drifter cooks, Ikora Rey is mentioned. Takes place shortly after the events of Season of the Witch. WC: 3.5k [Also on AO3]

As she strode along the path that paralleled the abandoned human outpost now known as the Anchor of Light, Eris Morn tightened the collar of her cloak, shielding herself from the brisk gusts of crisp lunar night air. For the second time within the hour, she contemplated retracing her steps back to her quarters; for the second time, she submitted to the small voice within her that urged her to keep going.

Today marked two weeks since she’d self-secluded herself to her old stomping grounds, three since her final transformation back from the Hive form she’d borrowed.

“Tea and silence,” she had told the Guardian, expressing her simplest yet most sincere desires following her daunting undertaking.

Ikora Rey had prescribed some much-needed time off the field for her dear friend, and for the first time since she could remember, Eris had actually heeded her advice, taking what must have been her first true break from any Vanguard, or Hive-related activities since she emerged from the Hellmouth all those years ago.

And so, much to the Warlock Vanguard’s relief, Eris found herself facing the opportunity to indulge in copious amounts of tea, accompanied by a few days of serene silence, the likes of which she had not experienced in decades.

This made Ikora’s guilt even more apparent when she had to call Eris into the Tower for help on yet another crisis, a mere few days later.

“I would not dare interrupt your much-deserved rest,” Ikora had said, her dismay audibly apparent to Eris. “However, I’m afraid this recent development requires your expertise, and it unfortunately cannot wait.”

The whirlwind of events that followed involved the discovery of an Ahamkara egg by the Guardian, the subsequent unveiling of a fifteenth and final wish, and a multiple hours-long planning session with Ikora and Mara Sov.

As much as she’d wished it to be unlikely, the realization of Savathûn having at least one card left in her sleeve did not surprise Eris. Over her last years of comprehensive research supplemented by her short yet consequential stint as a Hive god, she had grown intimate with their logics, their rules, and their decrees. She was cognizant of the weight her strikes against both Savathûn and Xivu Arath carried, of the grievous offence that her gambit constituted. But where Xivu’s moves could be more predictable, it was Savathûn’s next ploy that truly kept Eris agitated, particularly considering this new twist, which veered off anything she could have anticipated.

Throughout the day, she had served as the voice of reason, and attempted to counterbalance her more reckless colleagues; the Warlock Vanguard and the Awoken Queen had both become so engrossed with crossing the portal into the Pale Heart that Eris felt like they were no longer hearing her. She feared they were moving perhaps too quickly, without carefully evaluating all angles of the situation before them.

Ikora had briefly acknowledged her reservations while also citing the contingency they had in Immaru’s captivity. While Eris agreed with this, a smaller, shrill voice sounded an alarm, as she could not help but wonder, deep down: what if they were playing right into a larger subterfuge by the Hive god of cunning?

Following a long day of deliberation, the three of them settled on a sensible, albeit not ideal course of action, one that relegated Eris to off-site support, assigned Osiris as the Vanguard liaison, and involved Mara striking a bargain with Riven.

As calm and measured as she had managed to remain throughout the day’s events, extinguishing some of the fires Mara and Ikora risked starting with their more radically imperative approach, Eris had left the meeting in shrouded disquiet.

It was in this frame of mind that she’d made her way towards the Derelict parked by the Tower’s annex, a scheduled stop to attend what had unofficially become a weekly dinner with the Drifter, an inadvertent routine that had settled between them.

The rogue Lightbearer would have all the ingredients out in his kitchen area; Eris would meticulously prep the ingredients, and the Drifter would dexterously transform them into delectable dishes over which the pair would lend a supportive ear to one another. Their growing relationship was ever the odd contradiction, and yet, over time, they had grown familiar and even comfortable within this complementary dance.

That evening, it was over a warm bowl of pineapple fried rice that he had granted her the space she needed, as she unloaded weeks of pent-up worries and doubts. She verbalized her warring thoughts, describing the mental crash she’d felt after reaching the inimitable high of achieving an apotheosis-fuelled level of vengeance, only to be thrown out of the ashes of one conflict, straight into another. She confided her unease with the constant increase in stakes of the escalation in risks as they barrelled towards an inevitability, one she needed not to spell out to the Drifter, who had listened intently before chiming in.

As she relived the tenderness by which he’d crossed the implicit physical barrier between them for the first time, pulling her into a comforting hug, her breath hitched ever so slightly.

“I remember what you said. I think about it more than I should these days.”

“What did I say?”

“That we’ll live in the night if we have to. We do it for what comes after.”

As she replayed this part of his exchange with the Drifter in her mind, which had opened with his considerate and appropriate usage of her own past advice into the current context to assuage her, her brisk walk along Archer’s Line slowed to a trudge.    

“So this is where you wish to be,” she said cautiously. “At the end of all things?”

“Nowhere else.”    

“No more schemes to leave Sol?”

Weeks removed from the moment, Eris could still vividly remember her futile attempts to mask the nervousness beneath her composed facade as she clung to him, the tremors in her voice and her fingers as she heard herself ask a sincere question that she tried - and failed- to disguise as a playful quip, the bated breath she was holding as if everything inside her balanced on the edge of some invisible cliff waiting for his answer.

“Nah,” he said, and looked into her eyes. “I’d miss the moonlight.”

She would have replied if she could have trusted herself to speak. Instead, she’d stood in stunned silence, heat creeping up to her face in response to his quiet confession, just as it was now, quickly counteracting any cooling effect from the cool lunar night air.

When had the Drifter managed to disarm her so efficiently?

She’d found herself, in the two weeks that followed, pondering on this question as she clutched what was more often than not a warm cup of Sencha green tea. Once upon a time, when they both still only circled each other warily, Eris would have dismissed his usual flighty comments with ease.

The familiarity that had since settled between them, symptomatic of their budding bond which had only strengthened since their Stasis training on Europa and during which they’d both served as each other’s support system, had strengthened far beyond simply dispelling the formalities that kept them at a distance.

As much as Eris hated to admit it, and despite her best attempts at resistance, the Drifter had carefully chiseled his way through the guarded exterior she’d carefully built over the years in an overabundance of caution. She’d indulged herself in allowing herself to grow closer to him, under the self-imposed condition that she’d only allow him to see what she wanted him to see.

If the uncharacteristic boldness with which she’d reciprocated the Drifter’s overtures on that evening revealed anything, it was that she was more than willing to let him see a very vulnerable side of her.

On this, she surprised even herself.  

Eris could not pinpoint whether it was her final transformation back to herself, marking the closing of the proverbial chapter or the rare, extended time off alone with the disjointed thoughts tearing through her brain. But the first time since she emerged from the Hellmouth all those years ago, she now envisioned a real possibility of a tangible future for herself, which came with an equally genuine fear of losing it.

And this juxtaposition terrified her, more than any confrontation she may have with the forces of both Xivu Arath and Savathûn, combined.

As such, in the two weeks that followed, she found herself avoiding the Tower altogether, opting instead to stick to her lunar quarters in solitude, only venturing within the vicinity of her abode as needed. Doubt overwhelmed her mind, as thoughts crowded in, a long succession of them jostling each other, only pausing punctually to make way for the pangs of guilt she felt about breaking the streak for what would have marked a full month of weekly dinners with the Drifter; she’d resorted to withdrawing, citing sudden busyness, which constituted, even if technically through omission, a clouded lie.

A dry, humorless chuckle escaped her lips as the realization crossed her mind. Here she was; a woman who was once akin to a god, yet seemingly unable to face the matters of her own heart.

Part of her missed her stint as a Hive god. It was not the heady feeling of pure, unadulterated power, nor the mental patrolling of the fault line between control and madness nor even the inimitable satisfaction and sated vengeance derived from besting not one but two Hive gods in a single movement that she longed for. It was the momentary feeling of mental clarity and fearlessness that overtook her and which contrasted with the state of doubt she currently felt.

What she’d initially planned to be a short, brisk walk to and back from the landing zone that neighboured her quarters to clear her mind had turned into an impromptu self-imposed patrol on the Moon. The familiar outline of the craterous structure that formed out on the horizon brought her out of her reverie as she realized that her mindless walking had led her to the Hellmouth.

By force of habit, Eris took the exact path she’d taken on her very first patrol in the area, one she had committed to memory and had taken on countless occasions since. This instance, however, differed vastly from that initial mission.

Where Hive once hovered around the underground fortress in large groups, their numbers had since dwindled to a fraction of what they once were.

Where there would habitually be Hive acolytes hovering over Eris, adding to the cacophony of the Nightmares that stalked her relentlessly, there was instead a notable retreat within the combatant forces.

Instead of shrinking back into herself, Eris now stood taller, exuding a newfound sense of confidence evident in her posture and confident strides.

Her recent victory against the Osmium dynasty marked a stoppage of a long continuous, it delineated an era shrouded by an ordeal that preceded her emergence from the Hellmouth all those years ago from am. She truly was changed. Perhaps it was time to accept this.

She spotted the familiar rock shelter up ahead, quickening her pace as she entered the secluded area undetected. As she did, she brushed her fingers alongside the right-hand wall, taking the time to feel the ridges she had committed to memory long ago.

To the unknowing eye, it appeared to be a cavern, formed by what must have been aeolian erosion centuries ago. To Eris, it represented much more, having served as her first refuge on the Moon’s surface upon her emergence from the Hellmouth all those years ago.

She settled herself down, sitting on a slightly elevated rocky structure that had once served as a makeshift cot during her initial patrols on the Moon. She subconsciously fished out her Ahamkara bone from the pouch she’d stored it in, losing herself in the mesmerizing glow that emanated from it.

Cold.

Injured.

Lost.

Armed with nothing but the Ahamkara bone in her left hand and Brya’s now Lightless shell in her right, Eris leans her back against the closest wall in an attempt to situate herself. She can physically feel her body running out of the pure adrenaline that has kept her going so far, replacing any hope that had long since evaporated.

There is no way out.

She slinks down to the ground as she begins to accept this. She knows she is close to the end because, for the first time, her mind ventures not to rehash the past but to imagine a far future, of a faraway dream, an inkling of an idea, an unattainable alternate reality. In what she is sure to be her final moments, she dares to wish something greater for herself of a world where she would not only survive this ordeal, but get a chance at a life worth living. This thought spurs her to instinctively give the bone a light squeeze, eliciting an immediate reaction from it.

“Well, well. Eris Morn,” the bone whispers back to her, calling her by name, beckoning her. Eris stares back at it, drawn by its illuminating glow. When she does not respond, it calls out again.

“Eris…?” This time, more hesitantly, as though it is posing a question.

“Eris!” This time, the distorted voice betrays an undertone of urgency and worry.

A gentle squeeze of her shoulder sent a jolt through her body. Her eyes flew open and her chest rose and fell as she attempted to reorient herself. Eris blinked bewilderedly for a few seconds, scanning the area as her brain registered that she was back in the alcove and realizing that she’d dozed off, that the juxtaposition of her rock and the location must have had transported her mind back to those difficult moments in the corridors underneath the Hellmouth.

It was not until the hand released the grip on her shoulder that Eris turned her attention to her unexpected guest, who she now realized was sitting a bit too close for comfort, in typical Drifter fashion. With a slight tilt of his head, an air of amusement quickly replaced the slightest hint of worry that had settled on the rogue Lightbearer’s expression, but not before Eris noticed it.

How long had she been out? How long had he been here? How did he even find her? The questions crowded her clouded mind, jostling each other to reach the head of the line before she settled on one.

“What are you doing here?” Eris asked.

“Well hello to you too, Moondust!” He replied.

“It appears I was lost in… thought,” she said, more to herself than for him to hear, still visibly shaken by the vividness of her memory.

“You sure look out of it, you know, even more than usual!”

“Hmm. And what is that supposed to mean? ”

“Oh, nothing at all!” He stood up in what seemed to be an effort to change the topic, sauntering about the small alcove, brushing his fingers across the wall as he closed the small distance between himself and leaning his back against the opposite wall.

“It’s a nice little nook you’ve got yourself here! A shame I didn’t get to bring a housewarming gift.”

Eris narrowed her eyes at him, trying but failing to come up with a clever retort, a common occurrence as of late.

Both Guardians stared out at the Hellmouth’s entrance in the distance as a stillness settled between them, with nothing but the lunar night breeze serving as background sound. The Drifter shifted his feet, pulling Eris’ attention back to him. His eyes were unfocused, seemingly lost in his own thoughts in a rare and uncharacteristic moment of silence.

Eris retraced the events of the day that led her in this predicament, which had resulted in her sharing, in a moment of mutual contemplation, what had grown to become her little secluded and sacred area with the man she’d been too scared to face for the better part of two weeks.

And yet, oddly enough, in this moment of peace, none of it felt out of place.

She’d taken some distance from it, and god knows she needed it. But in relishing in the comfort that settled within her, a testament to their unspoken connection, Eris also realized how much she’d missed this.

“Tell me, Germaine, how did you find me?” She asked, mustering up the courage to break the comfortable silence.

When he turned to her, it was with an unreadable expression. She wanted to avert her gaze, but found herself incapable of looking away.  

“Three times I went back to that desolate world. Even trekked up within sight of that damn structure, where everything went haywire.”

He didn’t need to elaborate for Eris to understand that he was referring to the incidents surrounding the demise of the crew of humans-turned-guardians he’d traveled with hundreds of years ago, in his early days as a Guardian, a narrative she’d managed to place together through the bits and pieces he’d slowly but surely shared with her as they became more open with each other.

He continued, “Point being, in times of crisis, it’s common to gravitate to something more familiar, however disturbing it may be. You’ve been through a lot lately. I thought to myself, what better place than the Hellmouth for the for the former hive god of vengeance to reflect on her reign?”

His monologue left her speechless. Had she been that easy to read? That train of thought was interrupted when the Drifter came into view, leaning towards her.

“Actually, I tried about seven other locations before getting here. I was just on the point of giving up!” He added.

Eris searched his eyes for a hint of a vestige of the candor he’d just displayed, but the moment appeared to have just escaped her. She nonetheless held onto Drifter’s train of thought, and, as she often did these days when talking with him, felt compelled to elaborate on it.

“I’ve spent so much of my years focusing on survival. I’m just now having to re-learn how to live. Sitting back from this mission with Riven, it’s… forced me to rest and exist in this vacuum of space between wars. I’ve been putting much thought into everything, in this time of low distraction. I’ve contended with darkness for so long that it feels almost familiar, and comfortable. Only now am I getting the chance to wonder what sits on the other side of victory?”  

“Look Moondust, I don’t know what sits on the other side, but I’m sure hopeful. We’ve had such a solid run lately. I’m thinking there’s a universe where we run off most of our threats and that hope turns into reality.”

"And what happens when the threats to this hope are no longer external, when this threat now lives within you?"

“In that case, you neutralize that threat, too. And if you can help it,” he said as he placed his hand on her shoulder, “You don’t go at it alone.” And this, so far, was his only allusion to Eris’ recent avoidance of him. Not a reproach, but an invitation.

Even through his thick gloves, the warmth that emanates from his hand sends a comforting warmth through Eris’ body, a sensation that she could only describe as feeling as home.

She was just basking in the moment when he suddenly stood to his feet and picked up two bags she hadn’t noticed were at his feet.

“So, uh, we’re behind one dinner night. Figured we could have it at yours instead of mine.” He said in a cheerful tone that contrasted the serious one he held a few seconds ago, in yet another instance that had Eris wondering if she’d ever get used to his unmatched ability to transition between moods.

“Are you asking or are you inviting yourself?” She asked.

“I’ve seen your attempts at cooking. You and I both know you haven’t had a decent grub in days secluded out here in your quarters. And that you could use both the meal and the leftovers.”

“You are insufferable.” Was the only thing Eris could find to say, as she quickly rose and ducked out of the cave, in an attempt to mask how truly touched she was by Drifter’s gesture.

“I think the words you’re looking for are: Thanks, Drifter!” He called out to Eris, as he took long strides to catch up to her.

“Do not let this get to your head.” She replied, pulling her cloak up to hide the faint smile that was tugging at the corner of her lips.

As soon as they reached Eris’ quarters, the Drifter got to work. He expertly maneuvered around her small space, making an effective cooking station out of her otherwise cramped kitchenette.

As Eris observed the Guardian whose reputation starkly clashed with the man beneath the mask, her thoughts flitted once again, this time to this fire-forged partnership put to the test of a near domestic normalcy.

To what was once such a distant dream echoed while she had her back against the wall, ideas desperately held on to as she resolutely clutched her Ahamkara bone. This time, it was all configured under a different light.

Warm.

Healing.

Seen.

A/N: Massive thanks to @d2artevents for picking up the mantle and hosting #Destinytober24 this year!

[sincerely-sofie]

Character Opinion Piece. I didn't see one for Hyper Light Drifer, so how about the first playable drifter?

All of my opinions for this character are based on the headcanons I formed when I was a teenager. Heck, back in my day, we didn’t even have confirmed genders for any characters! I got the game at launch back in 2016, and it has remained a part of me ever since, and the Drifter along with it. I love the Drifter so much. This character is more of an OC to me nowadays than a character in a piece of media I adore, thanks to all my headcanons, and I adore her.

All of that is to say, my headcanon-based interpretation of the Drifter is that she is a feral cat and the Guardian is standing on his back porch with a can of tuna going “pspspspspspspsps—”

[cardinalgoldenbrow]

The unscrupulous robber baron, Parvos Granum, wants to get his greedy hands on a particular book that speaks to him of the Void's forbidden secrets. In an unfortunate accident, that very book has fallen into his hands. Unlocking it's mysteries could corrupt any Tenno Warframe who tries. Granum must not learn the otherworldly knowledge it contains.

So the Tenno turn to their friend and agent, Drifter, to recover the Whispering Grimoire.

In short, Space Ninjas and Space Capitalists fight over an Evil Book (™)

Chapter 4/4 (Complete)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55804726/chapters/143070739

[farmergilesofham]

I'll be writing a fic on here and perhaps also AO3 of THE Guardian trying to rope several vanguard members and familiar faces into doing a set of swimsuit calendars, to be sold in the City for morale and to get more funding for the Eliskni Quarter. This will be silly.