#triad lamplighter

[valhallasoutlaw]

"Witness": Part 1 - Body Worship, an Oath of Moment, Ceremonial Breaking of the Jaw, Regret Regret Regret Regret Regret Regret Regret Regret Please He Didn't Know

____________________________

Everyone in the party got a wish from the Triad Lamplighter, but not everyone was there to watch the moments between making the wish and the wish coming true. Part two to come!

EDIT: AI images happily stolen from the most obnoxious dudebros I could find, also they fill me with extra horror

[night-market-if]

I know, logistically, this would be a nightmare —HOWEVER, in a world where IF codes itself, would a relationship with Milo/Mal/MC/Pen work? Like, it's a triad between the three hooligans, and MC/Pen are something separate without the boys? Advanced Polyamory™️

I knew someone was going to ask this. LOL

It actually wouldn't work. And the reason it wouldn't is solely because of Malcolm. Malcolm has two loves in his life and thats it. Milo and his Lamplight. Together, they are his soulmates. He doesn't desire anyone more and honestly, its hard enough for him to understand being with people in general. He never thought he would be someone to fall in love.

Now, if it was up to Milo and Pen? Yeah. They'd be down for anything.

[magistralucis]

Ein Mensch brennt. Die Vögel singen nicht mehr. Tiefer Wasser sind nicht still. Die Wellen weinen leise. Wollt ihr das Bett in Flammen sehen? Wo das Meer zu Ende ist.

thats the good shit. now let me introduce you to a thing called tillchard 🤩👌

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

Here is a list of Richard Kruspe's priorities, circa the early nineties.

Food.

Shelter.

Rest.

Just about everything Richard does revolves around those things. Busking, labouring, worrying his hands frantically in his pockets, waiting for his friend to open the door. It's honest but it ain't much, he'll chuckle through a mouthful of stolen smoke, should this triad be questioned; not that anyone has, nor should, since it's so elementary. This is a time of turmoil, and more and more people are coming around to his point of view as they pare down their needs to survive. As long as the basics are there Richard won't complain.

"Anyone ho-o-me…"

He would, however, prefer it if human affection could be the glue to hold them together. And it often is that way with Till. He has not actually seen Till for some time; he knows Till worries about him, too, and that he'd prefer to see Richard around more often.

"Ach, Scholle! - Don't you know it."

Get ready, sweetheart, I'm about to make your day.

The door creaks open. Richard's vision is greeted by a slice of honeyed lamplight, then a man's face beaming with it, broad and inquisitive with eyes of forest green. "Curious." He says, and following the self-descriptor, tilts his strong jaw to the side. A long shadow catches the corner of his mouth, makes a Cheshire out of him. "Here I was thinking I was promised a cat, but I seem to have landed a Scholle instead. Didn't realize they did upgrades."

Richard barks out a laugh. "For free, too!" He contemplates the way Till's voice brims in him for a moment - witty, dry, crackling with stars - then shifts his guitar over his shoulder. "Well, since he's all you've got, dinner for Scholle? Kis-kis-kis?"

"Come in. Dinner's ready."

Life can be cool sometimes. He'll give it that.

He is not, truth be told, always sure what Till is. It's not in the sense he isn't real, or that he's some kind of woodland sprite, as charming the image may be. It's more that Richard exists in a constant fog over what the man means to him, moreover, how Till can exist this way, his provisions and affections wholly unconditional for the sake of his friends - even to transients, wandering and aimless, like Richard ended up becoming. (He'd say it out loud, but Till gets upset whenever Richard describes himself as much.) He breathes a stream of white and claps his gloved hands together as they venture down the hall.

[interdimensionalburnout]

Actually I'm going to meditate on that little idea I just had.

The Obris Mushroom, collectively the Obri or the Obri'Dai, are a multiversal collective and one of the High Vosi's creation.

It's a flow-chart for this part of existence (and some of the bits of matter we've imposed on the void, too, we even got our knockoff Lamplight), that goes:

The High Vosi, immortal friggin clowns who don't experience time right (Think... Hermes St. Germain) and created a multiversal post-scarcity empire.

The High Vosi are getting assaulted by a Void-Thing because of the aforementioned imposition of matter on the void, and they're dying at the hands of King Simeaus, that friendly neighborhood arbiter of destruction. They leave behind a triad of species to inherit their shtuff in response.

First they make Gollafick, would-be builders and servants for their actual sons. This was the first and worst decision they could've made; any dipshit will tell you that no sapient species of anything wants to be slaves. And the Gollafick are the most independent species in this neck of the multiverse.

Then they make the Low Vosi, people like Moz Wogai and the handful that Saintworks employs in secret; they're mortal, and they too are almost extinct nowadays. There ain't many of them left, and lots of them move in small caravans, with the only common meeting space being Wayouddy.

Then they make the Obris. The Obri'dai was originally a biological super-computer, a sort of oracle that has information the Low Vosi would need to thrive after Simeaus was gone. But the knowledge gave the Orbi'dai the ability to just... not do that. They became sapient, got down with the forbidden knowledge, and buggered off because the Gollafick and the Low Vosi were more than a match for the mushrooms and would've easily put aside their now-forgotten war to burn their groves down.

So I captured a cerebral-spore (very dangerous!) and cultivated my own Obris Mushroom inside a pocket space. It's completely isolated from the rest of the collective, meaning it's only mine and not sapient. The forbidden, ancient knowledge is built-in to their genetic development, but they need to be in a group to think. You can never really be sure, though.

Unless you plug your friggin brain into with your crazy aggressive Psionic Partition.

[floripire]

gen v au bullet points:

flori's story plays out the same as always with a few key differences

she's hacked into the servers/database of triad industries, veronica greasley caught wind of that, ordered a hit (but explicitly gave the order to make it look like an accident) to make an example out of the hacker; when confronted with the fact that flori wasn't home, mr and mrs dalisay were made an example out of instead

meanwhile flori still got turned by derek machado and made it to sue carson's birthday party where she drained sue dry

afterwards, she fled home where triad waited for her, carting her off to the triad industries detention center

flori has spent a lot of time in the triad industries detention center until she escaped and has vowed to never go back there

the triad industries detention center was triad's answer to red rivers and elmira

triad industries focuses more on the supernatural creatures while vought focuses more on the supes

but at the end of the day: both are only in it for themselves

triad industries is a sister company of vought's

while she's just a vampire and technically not a supe, her powers (super strength, super speed, compulsions, minddives) can be used / marketed as superhero abilities, therefore granting her access to god u on a scholarship

flori managed to compel herself into the lamplighter course but by the time that came to light, it was too late to pull her out (partially due to her stellar grades and computer know-how)

brink made it quite clear that flori is not allowed to compel people or feed on students in classrooms or on campus, otherwise she'll get expelled

dean shetty made it quite clear that flori is not to hack anything, either, if she doesn't want to get expelled

that's why she mostly sticks to regular food

she also has a lot of blood flavored lollypops and small boxes of little blood pills on her person at all times for when the going gets tough

[arbitrarylau]

A Night in Cartagena (Sam Drake & Harry Flynn)

{This is a short fanfiction based on tumblr artwork I saw ages ago. It's my own short rendition of how Harry Flynn became acquainted with the Drake brother(s).} 

@bapyess1r @tiecladartist @desertvvitch @courtenbae

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

Fortunately for Samuel Drake, the liveliness of the festival captured the attention of Cartagena's inhabitants. All light and energy gravitated toward the square, leaving the museum dark and abandoned. Sam finished fiddling through his satchel for his belongings and waltzed down the dark cobblestone alley in celebration. It wasn't often that the circumstances were so favourable.

Somewhere in the orchestra of distant laughter and music came sounds of aggression. As he neared the street corner, Sam heard a confrontation, the event slightly souring his joy. Led by his hand trailing the rusticated wall, he peered around the edge at the event intervening his path. Down the street, dimly lit by a distant lamppost, a group of thugs surrounded a younger man on his knees. One held him at gunpoint.

"...well there's no point in trying to reason with me," the young man said, now coming within Sam's earshot. "I can't understand a bloody word you're saying."

The man facing him, assumably the leader, hesitated, speaking indiscernibly to his group.

"Perhaps this will resonate with you more. You stole from Javier, and now you're going to pay the price."

Sam remained still, partly entranced by the scene, partly nauseated. The younger man had a British accent and a boyish face.

"Ah! You can speak English," the boy acknowledged with arrogance, eyeing the barrel of the gun intently. Sam knew that this British thief would require the meticulous use of language to save his skin. There was no way that he could physically evade a group of four in possession of the upper hand.

"Watch your tongue. Your options are becoming narrow."

"And what exactly are my options, then?"

"You either die here, or you return what belongs to Javier with considerable interest."

"Well now, we both know you're going to do both."

Sam quietly approached the other end of the street, striding through the darkness in order to get a closer look. His focus remained on the progressing scene, and in identification, he tried to conjure a plan for himself. Would he intervene? How could he do so without endangering his own life?

The young thief risked being caught by furthering himself along the rusticated walls that approached the scene. His step lost friction atop an unlit collection of rocks and broken cobblestone, forcing a silent gasp and a hot rush of cortisol. His hand fiercely grasping on the wall, he looked up at the confrontation to see that none of them had noticed, relief alleviating his tension. Although this did come with a feeling of doubt and reconsideration. The museum was only two blocks westward of the street, and only isolated for so long.

There was a sound of violence in reality that shook Sam out of his thoughts. The boy had been hit in the face with the leader's pistol, and having lost his balance, was limp on the street. Sam winced in mutual discomfort, seemingly having projected himself upon the situation. The boy had returned himself to his knees, struggling to keep his face titled upward, a glowing red in his cheeks. His face was so angular that it seemed too fragile to be hit without serious damage. Sam moved his foot and looked down to one of the rocks that had startled him moments ago, an idea forming.

The man had outstretched his arm with the pistol against the boy's forehead, the seriousness of the event appearing to dawn on him. Sam realized that this was the finale of the boy's encounter and gripped the stone in his hand with wavering optimism. If the boy were anything like Samuel, then he would know precisely what to do.

The men all turned in alarm to locate the abrupt sound of a windowpane shattering across the street. Sam felt the euphoric delight of accuracy and relief overcome him as his arm returned to his side, now permitting him to view the boy's escape.

The boy registered immediately and grabbed the leader's weapon, twisting it away and acquiring it. The leader turned back in outrage, soon after being hit in the face with the barrel. The other men lunged out to grab him as the leader stumbled backwards. Sam hadn't even noticed it, but a subconscious instinct had led him toward the encounter in spirit of rescue.

As the three men overpowered the thief, Samuel used all his strength to ram his shoulder into one of them, disabling the triad. It was at this point that the boy and Sam had seen one another, entering the latter into the narrative.

"Go!" Sam directed, believing it was the only opportunity for escape. Without hesitance the boy obeyed, and the two scurried out of the lamplight, turning a corner to evade any gunfire. The period in which their backs were exposed felt too long to Sam. The two appeared to share a mutual familiarity with the turns of the city, knowing which shortcuts to take and how to avoid being seen. After a few minutes of running, they found solace, coincidentally, near the museum.

"Fuck me," Sam wheezed faintly, bending over, the taste of saliva overwhelming him. His heart was pounding uncontrollably. The British boy chuckled in a hysterical disbelieving way.

"I can't believe that happened."

"You alright?" Sam asked through inhales.

"Yeah, just a little out of breath."

"Think they'll find us?" Sam inquired anxiously, eyeing his surroundings. The street was dark, as all were in the city.

The boy took a deep breath, his hands on his hips, observing the same surroundings. "Not in there," he concluded, referring to the museum. The two young men looked at each other and shared an epiphany, both grinning.

"Something tells me you know how to get in," the boy smiled curiously.

"I know a thing or two about this city," Sam responded nonchalantly. "Here, this way."

The two found themselves on the balcony of the museum, with only a thin wall and glass doors separating them from the artifacts. The bannister concealed them from the street below. Sam turned to his contract partner seated next to him.

"What's your name, by the way?"

He visually hesitated but followed through with confidence. "Harry Flynn."

[cactusandfir]

✨✨✨

thank you sasha! I chose if the fates allow because 1) jacob/annica/elias are very cute and I think more people should write for them 2) I had the realization last night that three of my four works on ao3 are some sort of poly configuration and I didn’t necessarily plan that but I can’t say it’s ooc for me as a person and 3) I feel like the two of us are the handshake meme about religious themes haha

I was having a time about Christmas and wanted to write something soft and good so this is mostly self-indulgent projection, but I like to think it’s not too off the mark for them, or at least the character details I made up after watching like, two interviews each.

The snow falls softly that evening, obscuring the stained-glass windows of the church, turning them into indistinct splashes of vibrant color. Jacob hasn’t been to a Christmas Eve service since he lived in Gavle full-time, and if pressed he wouldn’t say he missed it. But here in this unfamiliar city, with an old friend who speaks his mother tongue, the windows are a welcome beacon of his new home.

Yeah okay this is mostly projecting BUT there is an interview detail that I can no longer find where Jacob says he prefers to speak Swedish at home.

Staying with Lindy and Annica has been just the respite he needed. It’s not like he was unhappy in Vancouver, but choices like these are inevitable when chasing the cup. And to end up in Calgary, where both the team and the boys really wanted him? Who was he to question that? It felt like the right time for a fresh start. There is also an interview from 2019 I think? I really need to be better about bookmarking my sources, but he admits to being open to a trade if he feels he can’t win a cup in Vancouver because he’s getting older and he wants to win :(

The service is nice if kind of boring in English. The real joy is watching Annica’s eyes light up at the massive floral display, her hair shining in the low lamplight, the way Elias wraps his arm around her shoulder during the processional. Jacob meets his eye over her shoulder and can see his own contentment reflected back at him.

A comfortable hush descends between them as they walk to the car, not that they’re particularly outspoken on a normal night. It only breaks when Annica asks about their plans in the morning, “So which one of you is going to make me breakfast tomorrow?”  Based on the collective ninety seconds we’ve seen the three of them interacting, I read Annica as being, not dominant, that’s not the right word, but like, the organizer in the relationship. Like, she knows what she wants and how to get it, and the boys are 100% okay with letting her take the lead.

Lindy laughs, “Marky can do it, he’s the freeloader.”

“If I’m just a freeloader, see if I help you with dinner now!”

They all know he’s going to be the one to make breakfast, he’s always the first one up anyway. Lindy just takes every chance he can get to chirp Jacob about living with them, and Annica starts it a lot of the time, but it’s all in jest. Since they opened their home to him during his transition to Calgary it’s gone better than they could have hoped.

The ride back is quiet too. Jacob drives, it’s the least he can do, and Annica bops her head gently to the jazzy Christmas music they’ve been playing non-stop for the last few weeks. There’s cookies and tea waiting for them back at the house, and even though tomorrow will be a full day of talking to their various families and friends across the world, they’ll make time for the ritual. They make time for each other…but also apparently in Sweden Christmas is celebrated on the Eve as it is in my own easter European background, so I thought about them reserving the most important day of the holiday just for themselves, then bringing their families in for the more Americanized day.

It’s after midnight when they get home and shed their layers to sit by the fire with their late-night snack.

Annica breaks the silence once again, “I don’t know who made these delicious cookies, but whoever they were I would like to have them around to bake for me all the time.”

“I think that can be arranged.” Jacob replies.

“Yes, you deserve baking every day if you want it.” Elias confirms.

“I’m a lucky woman, to have two men who will cook with me. We did good this year.”

Elias pulls Annica into his lap and kisses her softly on the neck. She is a lucky woman, but that makes Jacob a lucky man as well, to be allowed to share in these intimate parts of their relationship. It wasn’t all seamless at first, with Jacob not sure what was open to him and what wasn’t, it’s not like they talked about it in so many words, but after weeks of dancing around each other they opened their hold and brought him in to move with them. More organic! poly! triads! I know many people draw a boundary for reading or writing about gf’s or family members and that’s totally understandable, I grappled with it for a bit writing this, which is one of the reasons its g-rated, but hockey rpf is so good for all sorts of non-traditional relationship structures! Everyone is moving around and living with different people and I think it’s fun.

“Yes, we did,” Jacob says as he comes to join them on the couch, “Thank you for keeping me around, even if it’s just for my help in the kitchen.”

“You know we love having you here, and you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.” Annica says, turning so she can rest her legs over Jacob’s lap, sitting across both of them.

Jacob had been making noise about finding his own place, but if he’s being honest with himself, he would stay as long as they’d have him.

He smiles and places his own kiss atop where he thinks he saw Elias’ earlier. It’s close enough to make the point. That he’s in this as much as they are, this was definitely meant to be more about devotion than possessiveness. When he brushes Annica’s hair aside it makes her sigh.

“Let’s go to bed, we have a lot to do tomorrow.” Annica keeping them organized again.

Before they can get up Elias hugs them both to him until Annica lets out a little squeak, “Yes ma’am!” But it’s balanced out by Elias and Jacob appreciating it, it’s not work that goes unnoticed, and if I ever write for them again, or really and m/m/f situation I want to explore a bit more of the balance of work in the relationship but that was too much to tackle for 800 words of fluff!

They all wander off to their own nightly routines before reuniting in Annica and Elias’ bedroom, where you can find them most nights. Since he still uses the bathroom connected to his room on the other side of the house, Jacob turns the lights off on his way. He pauses in the living room and looks at the lit tree before he turns those lights off too. He still can’t quite believe how peaceful it is here. Maybe it’s just the season, but he thinks it’s more than that this year. All goalies deserve a peaceful house and this is also a slight reference to how chaotic the last season had been.

He turns down the bed while he listens to the low hum of Elias and Annica talking in the bathroom still; they’ll join him when they’re ready.

He’s most of the way asleep when Annica slides into bed beside him and scoots back into the curve of his body, pulling his arm over her waist so they’re spooning. Elias lies down on her other side facing them both and pulls the blanket up so they’re cocooned together, cozy and warm. Jacob burrows his face into her neck, but addresses the room at large, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Jacob.”

And scene! Just a cozy little story about home and belonging.

[atomiccocktailhangover]

Sid

01. Full name: Sidney Santiago

02. Best friend: Gob and Charon

03. Sexuality: Bisexual

04. Favorite color: Deep red

05. Relationship status: In a closed triad with Gob and Charon

06. Ideal mate: She loves her ghoulie boys, but in an idealized fantasy Nova is there too

07. Turn-ons: She likes to feel like a dashing hero - she wants to protect and care for the people she loves, and likes it when they depend on her. Sometimes she gets a little carried away, and a show of bravado ends with her being the one who needs to be rescued.

08. Favorite food: Homegrown mutfruit and veggies.

09. Crushes: Gob and Charon obvs, but also Willow, Nova, Trinnie, and Harkness. And maybe @memaidraws​ ‘s Jensen for a hot second >.>

10. Favorite music: HE JUST HACKS

WHACKS�� 

CHOPPIN THAT MEAT

11. Biggest fear: Hearing the beep of a landmine just a split second too late

12. Biggest fantasy: For Moriarty to have a little “accident” and allow Sid to run Megaton

13. Bad habits: Sid’s a smoker and loves her some jet. When she drinks she gets flirty and says dirty things to her boyfriends, regardless of who’s within earshot.  

14. Biggest regret: Her youth as a cap-hoarding con artist. When she moved to Bigtown from Little Lamplight, she ended up developing a paranoid, dog-eat-dog kind of outlook. She honestly believed that to survive in the wasteland she needed to screw over the people around her, instead of working together. She doesn’t like to think about how many other scared kids who starved, hurt, and ended up enslaved due to her selfishness. 

15. Best kept secrets: Sid has emergency cap stashes all up and down her usual trade routes, usually buried and almost totally unmarked. The only person who knows about them is Charon.

16. Last thought: Like, last thought ever? Before she dies? Probably “fuck”

17. Worst romantic experience: Her childhood sweetheart, a kid called Motormouth, from out of Little Lamplight. He got his knickname because he just couldn’t shut the hell up for two seconds, he always had some little smart-ass quip to say. As kids they picked on each other a lot, but it was mostly just harmless ribbing. Sid was a year older, so by the time Mouth joined her in Bigtown, she’d already been through a lot of awful things. Little by little, they started to grate on each other. 

Even after they hitched a ride with a trading caravan and got out of town, they were always at each others throats. By all means, they should’ve broken up sooner than they did, but they were young and stupid and neither of them really knew what a functional relationship was supposed to look like. In the end, she didn’t even formally break up with him, she just stole half his cash and dipped out on him one night. Sid hasn’t seen him in years.

18. Biggest insecurity: Though she’s got a lot of meat on her bones by wasteland standards, Sid really isn’t very good in a fight, especially in close quarters. In situations that she can’t talk herself out of, she can be easily overpowered. 

19. Weapon of choice: Molotov cocktails and frag grenades. Any kind of projectile explosive. In emergencies she has a shotgun, but her aim isn’t too great. 

20. Role Model: The Lone Wanderer. I don’t have a set headcanon for who that is in Sid’s canon (though sometimes I borrow Jensen), but she hears about them on GNR. All of Three-Dog’s stories of someone going out and changing the world inspires her, and she goes from being passive and neutral to trying to help the people around her. With a good karma Wanderer, she admires them, and wants to be more like them. With a bad karma Wanderer, it really strikes Sid how dangerous the world is, and she wants to try harder to make things suck just a little bit less.

[valhallasoutlaw]

Since I've been dead, here's some Tert scribbles I've done! Yes, shortly into going renegade (post devastation of Baal), Tertius joins the Guard under the resume of an Ogryn Ex-Model because who is going to correct him? Why in Holy Terra would a space marine join the guard? BONUS: Inner child and the Triad Lamplighter