#and if he's perched upon the armored titan in two of these then what

[sailorspica]

happy birthday jeanbo (0407)!

#some of my top jeans :) #and if he's perched upon the armored titan in two of these then what #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #♅ #aotgif #anigif #jean kirchstein #jean kirstein #shounenedit #animangahive #fyanimegifs #dailyanime #animeedit #anisource #dailyanimatedgifs #animangaboys #2 per wit season and 3 mappa

[lune-hime]

Garden of Tulips (Levi/Reader) Once Upon an Attack on Titan

~Click me for more chapters~

“What did it look like?”

“Hmm?” Levi looked up from his place next to your sleeping form. “The titan that tried to snack on my darling granddaughter.” “Ugly as fuck.” “Aren’t they all?”

Levi recounts memories of the reader and their shared life together while she recovers from a serious injury.

!!WARNINGS!! - Violence, gore, smut, wholesome content ;)

This is a little one shot within the au of my fic inspired by Grimm’s fairy tales.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Jean, I’m leaving now!” You sang out the window that overlooked the garden of your quaint cottage. You slipped your boots on with a leather pop and pulled up the scarlet hood of your cloak. As you padded out the door you grabbed the wicker basket from the table that smelled of wine and warm tartes.

The late afternoon sun was at its strongest, basking your modest abode in an aura of warmth. And within the pumpkin patch that bloomed bronze in the sunlight was a sight to behold indeed.

“ Move asshole.” Jean groaned as he put all of his strength into attempting to push your cow. She was unaffected and continued to happily graze on the dandelions you had forgotten to weed out near the edge of the garden. She flicked her tail in annoyance as if Jean was an incessant fly when he smacked her on the rear.

“Whose being the asshole? How would you like it if you were eating and someone slapped you?” You chided playfully. Jean deadpanned in exhaustion and gave you the middle finger. His irritation rose with every non-existent step your bovine took.

“Yeah well, it’s almost noon. That means the auction starts in one hour.” His statement turned into a groan as he gave another big ineffective push. “If we don’t sell her that means-”

“Yeah, yeah. We’re broke.” You finished his sentence and made a swiping motion across your neck. Selling your beloved cow was the last resort and a stark reminder of how desperately you both needed money. Not only did you siblings have each other to support, but your aging grandmother as well.

“ Exactly . So get over here and help me push her!” Jean pleaded. You sighed and placed the handle of your basket in the crook of your elbow. You knelt down in the plush autumn grass and cradled her large head in between your hands. She immediately stopped eating and regarded you doe eyed. Parting with the sweet creature made you want to cry, but you knew you really had no other option at this point.

“Come on, Milky-White. I promise you will get to eat your fair share of hay at the auction house.” You cooed at her and she gave a sloppy lick to the side of your palm. Jean scoffed when you took the lead to the rope around her neck and she walked compliantly behind you.  

“Are you ready to go?” You asked your brother with a smug grin. He rolled his eyes and nodded, brushing the dirt from his vest. When he fell in step with you, you handed him the rope and adjusted your basket to rest on your forearm.

“I’ll walk with you part of the way. The auction is on the way to Oma’s.” You said and rested your free hand on Milky-White’s back comfortably as you strolled down the cobblestone path.

Once you had gotten a fair ways down into the sparse village, the crunching of foreign feet against pine needles alerted you. A decrepit woman emerged out of the thicket a few paces ahead. Her graying brunette locks were pulled back into a ponytail that made the most prominent feature of her face her bold nose. From behind her dirtied glasses she wore a smile that bordered insanity as she waddled closer to the siblings. You immediately halted and put a protective hand on Jean’s arm.

“Well hello pretties. A fine day to take your cow for a walk, isn’t it?” The woman remarked shrilly.

“Yes it is.” Your response was curt as you stood your ground. The old woman let out a chuckle that sounded as if she were squeezing air out of a dusty bellow.

“Would either of you like some candy?” She offered. You assumed she intended to sound inviting but the rising pitch of her voice made it feel like you were listening to someone drag their nails across an endless chalkboard. The woman reached into her beige cloak and pulled out a large lollipop. You squinted at the fine print on the translucent wrapping.

~Confectionaries by HZ~  

“We’ll pass, thanks.” Jean replied coldly. The haggard woman began looking him up and down and licking her encrusted lips.

“Are you sure? I’m a candy maker by trade and can assure you that you will never taste anything more-” She began, waddling closer to you. She bypassed your side and began circling you.

“Exquisite.” She finished as she rounded her path behind you. You were now thoroughly repulsed.

“I could give you a tour of my kitchen. I have a grand oven where I bake my treats, unlike the likes of any other. I bet it’s big enough to even fit you in it, my tall boy.” She bubbled and grabbed Jean’s arm. She gave it a good squeeze, feeling around the lean muscle.

“Lady, we don’t want your food!” Jean bristled, his voice cracking nervously. Her jerked his elbow out of her grasp but spooked Milky-White in the process. She took a few clumsy steps backwards and caused Jean to stumble. You moved to calm her, all the while not taking an eye off of the woman. Once Jean had regained himself you stepped in front of your family.

“Ma’am, thank you for the offer, but we really need to get going. We have an appointment we cannot miss.” You declared with a grin as sugary as her candy. She spat in frustration when you lifted the edge of your crimson cloak to reveal a concealed dagger strapped to your belt.

“The feisty ones always taste the spiciest.” You heard her mumble as she creeped away in the direction from whence you came.

Once she was out of sight, you turned to Jean and your precious cow. They both were breathing heavily. You gave them comforting pats and began walking again.

“We need to move out of this village.” Jean whined and urged Milky-White to follow.

Several scarecrows and window sills holding freshly baked pies later, you arrived at the crossroads to the auction.

“Goodbye sweet girl. I hope that your new owners are as loving as me and nothing like my brother.” You said. You gave Milky-White one final smooch and scratched behind her ears. Soon Jean had to pry your pets and coos away from the animal. You backed off with a pout.

"Make sure you sell her for at least 200 dollars or something valuable we can sell. And stay away from that weird wizard, he's for sure a scam artist." You instructed Jean.

“Aw but I like Mike. He's got these beans that make you feel like you're floa-" You cut Jean's ramblings off with the sharpness of your glare.

"Fine fine. Alright, I’m off. Remember to stay on the path and make sure you keep your hand on your knife at all times. And most importantly, be back before nightfall.” Jean instructed and gave you a look that tried to be stern but fell slightly short.

“Yes, yes. Don’t worry, I’m always careful.” You replied to his nagging.

“Yeah but you can’t afford to just be careful. Anyway, tell Oma hello from her favorite grandchild.” He called as he turned down the right fork in the path. You snorted and pushed forward, trodding over the stones that took you deeper into the woods.

For a while it was just you and the conifers until an alluring song was carried by the light breeze to your ears. Delving deeper into the brush, you came upon a familiar face.

“Hi Mikasa. Hello Armin, Eren.” You grinned happily as you passed the group. The war maiden was sitting on a large tree stump along the edge of the path. Her ornate shield rested in her lap as she lazily polished it with one hand and bit into a crisp apple with the other.

She was a mercenary that had recently come to work in your village. As an apprentice at Master Connie’s blacksmith shop, you had interacted with the knight many times when she came in to sharpen her sword or shop for some wares. The two of you had grown quite fond of one another’s company and were on friendly terms.

Her dwarven companions sat on either side of her; Eren’s intensely green glare watched you like a hawk while Armin peacefully beamed up at you. Mikasa wiped the sweat off of her forehead with the back of her palm.  Her hand brushed against the bright red headband that held her shortly chopped locks in place.

“Hello Y/N. Lovely to see you.” She greeted, her voice rough with battle experience but as honeyed as the candy the weird woman had tried to tempt you with earlier.

“You too.” You answered, feeling the flames of her firey gaze flushing your cheeks.

“I must say that this gorgeous afternoon is much more beautiful now that you are here.” She sang and flashed you a charmingly captivating smile. As Mikasa spoke, sparrows flitted down from the canopy above to perch along her polished iron shoulder guards. They chirped at the melodic cadence of her voice but soon squawked when she shook them off in annoyance.

The sun was making you borderline sweaty. Yeah, it was definitely the sun.

You nodded in agreement, feeling speechless, and inhaled the fresh pine scent.

“Where are you off to?” Armin piped up while Eren still gave you the stink eye.

“I’m off to my grandmother’s to deliver her some wine and homemade tartes.” You said and patted the top of the basket.

“Would you like me to escort you the rest of the way? It will be dark soon and who knows what wolves or other creatures are lurking in the shadows.” Mikasa offered and stood from the stump. The waning daylight bounced off of her armor and made her look as if she had crafted it out of pure sun rays.

“No, it’s alright. I don’t have that much further to go.” You replied, flattered by her sweet gesture but unwilling to waste her time. Plus you were sure Eren would try to nip at your heels as you walked.

“If you insist. But you’ll have to invite me over soon, okay? I would be honored to taste your cooking.” She said and delicately reached for your hand. She brought it up to her lips and placed a plush kiss to your skin. The fire that was once burning on your face was now rushing through every limb.

“Yes of course!” You stammered bashfully, attempting to portray yourself as unaffected as possible. She chuckled at your reaction and regarded you gracefully.

“Be careful, Y/N. Oh, and tell your stalker of a brother to stop following me into the forest. He’s not the one I want to spend time with.” Mikasa bid you a farewell that left you feeling as if you had drank half of the wine bottle you carried.

“Yeah, or he’s gonna get a knife to the Achilles tendon.” Eren spat aggressively and brandished a cheese knife. You grimaced and turned on your heel to resume your journey.

The remainder of your walk was delightfully uneventful, however, the mistress of time was not favoring you. When dusk began to nestle into the sky you quickened your pace in hopes to beat the celestial blanket to your destination. As you were beginning to trouble yourself with what you could cook that would impress the shield maiden, you arrived at the familiar picketed gates to Oma’s cottage. The calmness of the night almost lulled you into a false sense of security that you rarely felt at this hour.

But it was unusually quiet. Even for nightfall.

Nightfall.

You had broken your and Jean’s golden rule. But you were here now, so it should be okay...right?

None of the usual crickets were singing, none of the usual squirrels were scampering through the freshly fallen leaves, and none of Oma’s usual lights were on.

With your hand placed securely over your dagger, you cautiously approached the residence. You tried to convince yourself that she had gone to bed early, that she was indulging in her pipe on her back porch, or that she had stepped out for a bit to get some last minute ingredients for dinner.

The apprehension in your gut grew as you turned the door knob, only to be met with the door already open. Narrowing your eyes, you proceeded inside. The house was too devoid of light to see if anything was out of the ordinary.

“Oma-” You called tentatively. The only reply was the shrill groaning of her weathered timber under your boots as you shuffled around to find some matches. Your hand sporadically patted down the top of the cabinet she kept in her foyer until your fingers brushed against the match box. You gripped the fire starters and lit the nearest candle. Picking it up by the brass handle, you padded into the living room.

Immediately the viscous stench of iron assaulted your nostrils and caused you to audibly gag. You brought the hand with which you held the candle to your nose instinctively. The illumination this motion created uncovered a pale, delicate hand resting along one of Oma’s armchairs. You gasped in fright, inhaling even more of the putrid smell as you stumbled backwards. The wine bottle wiggled dangerously as you placed your hand on the fireplace shelving to steady yourself.

“WHO’S THERE?” You yelled into the void. Your voice creaked like the floorboards under invisible footfalls that grew closer to your shaking form. In one fluid motion your dagger was unsheathed and held defensively in front of you.

A deep chuckle that was as rich as your wine cut through the shadows.

“Easy with the silver. I’m a friend.” It’s welcome was warm but the voice could not have sounded more frigid.

“Oma doesn’t have any friends.” You declared through ragged breaths. Your head twisted and turned to pinpoint the source of the voice.

“Hm. So the woman who lives here is your oma?” The voice asked ominously.

You swallowed hard and tested the air; cutting through the space in front of you and meeting nothing but emptiness.

“How did you know a woman lives here?” Your inquiry was ended with a sharp inhale as you felt a feather light touch to your shoulder. You were giving yourself whiplash as the voice seemed to be existing within the walls of the house itself.

Was Oma still here? Hiding from this stranger? Or worse…

“A simple guess by the décor.” The voice answered smoothly.

The presence in the room intensified and now you felt palpable forms whirling on all sides of you.

“Where is she?” You demanded, hastily pointing your knife wherever you heard a nefarious laugh or a murmur.

“That is something I would like to know as well. I took time to come all the way out here.” Your mysterious company said.

“It’s awfully late for someone to be traveling alone this far into the woods, don’t you think my dear?” The voice whispered incredibly close to the back of your ear. You startled and turned around, now facing the fireplace and leaving your back tantalizingly exposed.

“Especially for one so-” It continued. Suddenly the pale hand gripped your wrist with such a force that it crippled your palm in pain and made your fingers grow numb. The dagger instantly dropped from your grasp and clattered to the floor.

“Supple.” It cooed. The seductively sinister words slithered under your skin and seeped the oxygen from your lungs. Puffs of icy breath caressed the pulse point of your neck while a nimble hand traveled up your arm that held the candle and raised it to your eye level. You were whipped around and were met with a face accentuated by the soft glow of the candle light.

Your antagonizer took corporeal form in the shape of a man who looked as if he was carved from exquisite marble. His skin was ashen as the stone itself and as flawless as a sculpture. His eyes shown with an argent luster that put your dagger to shame and regarded you with the molten intensity of a forge fire. He drew his face closer to yours ever so slowly.

“Supple indeed.” He praised darkly. His tongue darted languishly along his smirk as if he was already tasting your every feature.

“What did you do to her?” You got out despite the building dread of prey bubbling inside of you. The porcelain man clicked his tongue.

“Absolutely nothing. That’s my problem. That there’s a lack of something to be done.” He explained and continued to smile at you devilishly. He stopped inching towards you once he heard your back hit the fireplace. With nowhere for you to go, he was now able to press his body flush against yours. His leg came to prod at your inner thighs while his hands pinned yours upwards by your wrists. His sharp nails dug into the already tender flesh and threatened to puncture your veins. You let out a cry at the stinging sensation and your mind screamed at you to knee him in the balls.

But you couldn’t move. From the moment his eyes connected with yours, your body fell unresponsive. You couldn’t think a single thought without those silver bullets boring into your brain. Your rapids breaths were constricted against his broad chest as you teetered on the edge of death.

“But I must confess I am quite happy with this outcome.” He said with a satin glee. The last thing you saw before he instantly blew out your candle were the brilliant pearlescent fangs that elongated from his idyllic grin.

You heard a squelching as the flesh below your ear was torn open. It felt as though a flower with scorching petals was placed in the now gaping hole of your neck. Your limbs flailed like one of the chickens Oma placed on the chopping block. The stranger let out a velvety moan that only intensified the burning by sending shockwaves of vibrations across your torso. The longer he drank from your sweet nectar, the paler the flame ran until the pain became as white hot as his complexion.

The man had just begun clenching his jaw to delve in deeper when a gunshot pierced the window in the foyer. Your captor ceased his drinking and listened. He turned his head towards the ruckus with his teeth still embedded with you. Suddenly, a silver arrow flew through the broken glass.

“Come out, vampire. Or I will smoke you out.” A husky voice boomed from the yard. The man retracted his fangs and detached himself from your bleeding neck. The beast chuckled with the crispness of a newborn spring morning. He maneuvered your body so you could walk in front of him with your hands held securely behind your back. You weren’t sure if you even had the strength to use your legs. Walls, did you even still have legs?

“Don’t struggle.” He ordered with a maniacal sing-song to his tone. You barely registered his command. The draining sensation of your bodily fluids freshly leaving you left you feeling like an overused blood bag. Your eyes widened as he began shuffling you to the doorway.

“No-I can’t go-” Your voice cracked as you mediocrely attempted to grab at his arms. You stumbled into his chest as your legs struggled to work properly. He showed no signs of stopping as he continued to walk to the entryway.

“Please…” You pleaded weakly as the rising moonlight peeked through the crevasses of the front door.

The vampire kicked down the door with one fluid motion. The hunter was stationed in the main walkway of your grandmother’s front yard, crossbow loaded and aimed directly at the two of you. His leather tailcoat flapped along the gentle breeze and the bullet casings that rested along his chest reflected the cool gray of the stars.

“We finally are reunited.” The hunter spat. His weapon tracked the vampire’s every movement with the precision of a seasoned expert as he dragged you out further into the yard.

“Smith.” The stranger greeted the hunter like an old friend. He smiled, revealing teeth coated in your thick blood that dribbled down his chin like tumbling rubies.

“Ackerman.” The hunter replied in a hardened tone. “It’s a shame that you resorted to your old delicacies.”

Ackerman hummed and licked the front of his teeth, sighing in satisfaction as he reveled in your metallic palate.

“Squirrels just didn't satisfy me.” He snickered and walked his pointed fingers up your shoulder. A single digit entered your gaping wound and swirled in your juices. You shuddered at the needle-like pressure.  Smith’s prominent brow furrowed in disgust when Ackerman brought his finger to his mouth and sucked.

“Drop the girl, she’s almost dead anyway.” Smith said, his stance unwavering.

“Want my leftovers, eh?” Ackerman laughed. “I guess I only ever see you by the light of the moon so I wouldn’t be surprised if you were one of us.”

In your delirium you had begun disconnecting yourself from reality. But the vampire’s last phrase kept the final, unspooling thread from snapping. You heaved your neck sideways with the remaining strength you harbored to gaze up at Ackerman. His lips were as red as a summer cherry and his skin looked even more iridescent next to the moon. He looked like he could have fallen from the celestial body itself.

The moon.

The instant your eyes gazed upon its circumferential radiance your pupils dilated as the lunar rays rocketed into your eye sockets.

The full moon.

Be back before nightfall.

You can’t afford to just be careful.

Your brother's words echoed in your mind as the moon began bathing you in luminous ivory pain.

“Oh no.” You whimpered. You squeezed out a wail as the searing ripping of your joints elongating and reconnecting overtook your entire being. The convulsions of your body caused Levi to release you from his grip with a hiss. The vampire hunter and hunted could only watch as you hunched over agony with freshly punctured claws raking through Oma’s neat lawn. Coarse hair soon sprouted out of your exposed skin and your strained cries grew octaves lower. The buttons of your dress flew free with crisp pops and the seams of your poor dress were pulled apart by your bulging muscles. Your jaw unhinged and lengthened until your face resembled the wolves that Milky-White used to chase from your chicken coop.

Your tortuous yelps suddenly mingled with a deafening gun shot from the gate.

“What in the Peter Piper’d fuck is going on at my house?” Oma hollered, rifle pointed at the sky, as you let a howl pierce through the night.

Suddenly you were jolting awake and pawing at the sheets. Your heart was beating erratically as you shakily brought your hands to your lap.

They looked blissfully normal.

You heard shuffling from outside of the bedroom and Levi was soon standing in the doorway with concern mapping his face.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” He asked in minor alarm as he came to sit next to you. He was already in his harnesses and uniform so you gaged it must have been early morning. Levi’s eyes searched your clammy form for any signs of outward distress. You sighed in relief seeing your usual pillows, usual closet, usual bathroom, and most importantly; usual Levi.

It had all felt so real.

“I’m fine, Levi. I just had the strangest dream though.” You exhaled as you came down from the high of your slumbered adventure.

“I think your weird dreams stress you out more than being a squad leader does.” Levi chuckled as he ran a gentle hand along your back. You closed your eyes and revealed in the peaceful feeling of his palm along your night shirt. It was a stark contrast to the gory fantasy you just emerged from.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He added with more seriousness in his voice.

You just stared at him. He stared right back, blinking blankly as you analyzed his features. Your hands reached up and took his jaw between your hands. Your thumbs lightly pushed up the corners of his upper lip to reveal his teeth. Levi made a noise of complaint but didn’t swat you away. You leaned in closer to check his canines for any vampiric qualities. When you were assured they were of normal length, you pulled back satisfied.

“Nope, I’m good.” You smiled and planted a quick peck to his lips before jumping out of bed to get ready for the day. Levi watched you pad into the bathroom as he felt his teeth in confusion.

↞↠↞↠↞↠

Eren looked at you nervously as you eyed him from your place behind him in line to get lunch. He looked down at you and gulped.

“Is everything okay, Y/N?” He asked apprehensively. You narrowed your eyes and placed your hand level with the top of your head. You brought it straight out towards Eren, hitting him square in the forehead.

“You’ve always been taller than me, right?” You questioned, looking from your hand down to his feet.

“Uh, yeah.” He confirmed, regarding you suspiciously. He fidgeted with the sides of his plate as you puffed your cheeks in contemplation. Finally you nodded in satisfaction.

“Do you own a cheese knife?”

↞↠↞↠↞↠

“Hange, have you ever thought about owning a candy shop?”

“Y/N. Why would I do that when I barely have time to analyze the retinal samples from Bean’s eye?”

↞↠↞↠↞↠

“You’re dismissed, Y/N.” Erwin’s parting smile betrayed the professionalism of his order. You bowed your head respectfully and walked to the doors to his office. Your fingers dusted over the brass handle but hesitated to grab it. You turned back towards your commander and paused.

When Erwin didn’t hear you leave, he looked up from his desk.

“Is there something else you need, Y/N?” He asked.

You stared at him long enough to lace his brow in slight concern. His coat was the same length, same color, same style as your own.

“I-I like your coat.” You laughed nervously and threw him an awkward grin. Before he had the chance to answer you had bowed your head and hurried out the door.

“Thank...you?”

↞↠↞↠↞↠

Today it seemed like you were playing errand girl more than squad leader. You questioned why you even put on these chafing harnesses as you ferried yet another stack of documents back to your office.

“Hi Y/N, do you want to get dinner together later? I still have some tartes too that I bought when we were in town last.” Mikasa smiled at you as she passed you in the hall. You involuntarily began blushing furiously.

“Definitely, I’ll see you in a couple hours!” You sputtered as you hurried down the hall, slapping your cheeks as you went.

↞↠↞↠↞↠

“Jean.” You called, looking up from the paperwork that littered your desk. The boy who was lazily sprawled out on your office couch hummed into his book.

“We’ve never owned a cow together, right?”

“What the fuck?”

#levi #levi x reader #LEVI ACKERMAN #levi/reader #snk #snk x reader #AoT #aot x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #hange zoe #jean kirschstein #bisexual jean #fluff #imagine #aot imagine #levi imagine

[niqhtlord01]

Destiny 2 Season of Dawn Funny Dialogue Part 1: Osiris

With the announcement of Season of Dawn and the return of both Osiris and Saint 14, one can only imagine what will happen should they return to the Tower and what interactions these two returning heroes may have with the existing cast. Tess: May I interest you in our latest wears? Osiris: I have no need for your trinkets. Osiris: My gear is imbued with the highest concentration of light ever seen. Tess: Really? What's your light level? Osiris: (Straightens up proudly) 330 Tess: (snorts) Osiris: What do you find so amusing? Tess: Nothing. I just finally understand why you had such trouble dealing with the Vex for so long. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shaxx: How long will you stay? Osiris: I am here for good now my friend. Shaxx: Wonderful! I would hate to see you fly the coop again. Osiris: Et tu Shaxx? Shaxx: No need to ruffle your feathers. Osiris: Stop...please... Shaxx: What? I'm just having a bit of fun; no need to lay an egg. Osiris: How many of these do you have? Shaxx: I have spent centuries compiling a list for when you returned. Believe me, we have only just begun.

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Osiris: Tell me, am I truly so outlandish to the people in the tower? Osiris: Since my return I have seen countless Guardians far stranger than I walking these halls. Ikora:  I think you may be over reacting. Osiris: Just today I walked past a Warlock wearing a cardboard cut out of a Vex head and a Titan who bore armor made from SIVA, yet I am the strange one!?!

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Holliday: What did you eat in the infinite forest? Osiris: Come again? Holliday: You were in there for years by our standards, so what did you eat to survive? Holliday: Did the Vex have a version of a Shaxx Shack? Osiris: What in the name of the eternal light is a "Shaxx Shack"? Holliday: When Shaxx opened the Crucible he also started a food service for people who watch in the arenas. Holliday: It's been so successful he's one of the richest people in the city. Osiris: Surely you jest. Holliday: Have you had the Shaxx ka baba? It's to die for. (Random passing Guardian): I know I did. I got the last one and the Guardian behind me ran me through with a shadow blade triggering a riot. (Second passing Guardian): I remember that. It only broke up once Shaxx came out and just started throwing cooked meat at people. Shaxx: IT WAS GLORIOUS!

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Osiris: They call you the Drifter. How....appropriate. Drifter: And you must be the fella they call you father time. Osiris: That is a title I have not heard before. Drifter: I'm just kidding. The people I talk to call you the crazy bird man.

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Calus: So many life times spent in the realm of the Vex, what stories you must hold. Calus: Were you to regale me with your tales I would greatly reward you. Osiris: The secrets are not for the ears of common mortals. Calus: (laughs) Calus: What gives you the impression that I am anything but "normal"? Osiris: A cabal emperor is as normal to me as any human walking the streets of the last city. Calus: If that is all that you can see before you then perhaps you are more blind then I imagined. Calus: Especially since you have yet to see the true face of your floating companion. Osiris: What do you know of the ghosts? You must tell me! Calus: Apologies; but my tales are not meant for the ears of "common" mortals.

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Drifter: Hello birdman, what brings you down from your perch to my humble abode. Osiris: I thought we should speak, one lost soul to another. Drifter: Then you best keep moving friend, I'm right where I want to be. Osiris: There are many forms of lost as there are grains of sand upon a beach. Drifter: Of all the people to preach to me about returning to the fold you were the second to last I would imagine would come to me. Drifter: First being a Cabal dancer I met past the outer rim. Osiris: You can not run from what is to come forever. Drifter: Watch me.

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Shaxx: From what our Guardian’s have spoken of, I believe the "Infinite Forest" needs a new name. Osiris: It is not for the likes of us to change the nature of things. Shaxx: Says the man who walks through time altering the past, present, and future daily; but that's besides the point. Shaxx: There are hardly any trees, so one could hardly call it a forest. Osiris: It's winding corridors ensnare countless adventures never to escape the ever shifting paths of time. Shaxx: Exactly my point. Would it not make more sense to call it "The Eternal Labyrinth" or "Maze of Ensnarement"? Osiris: You've become rather poetic since I was last here. Shaxx: Nonsense! I've always been a fond admirer of the arts. Why, I can break out into a gilbert and sullivan song at the drop of a hat. Osiris: No, there's no need t- Shaxx: I was a warlord of the wastes, there was no equal that I faced I wandered far around the globe, smiting every single foe

But then I came upon the great and mighty traveler and thought to myself “Finally a this will be a real adventure” 

#destiny 2 #Osiris #lord shaxx #Shaxx #Drifter #Calus #Emperor Calus #amanda holliday #ikora rey #Tess Everis #bungie #Guardian #Vex

[gospelofsam]

OLYMPUS BOUND

OO1 . COUNCIL OF WAR

Zeus sat on his golden throne with pride, although a storm surged below him in his anger.

Flanking his right was his faithful, if not angry, sister-wife, the White-Armed Hera, her silken dress adorned with a cloak of green, blue, and purple peacock feathers. The Queen of the Heavens gripped her scepter tight in her soft hands. Her hair was well-kept, laying in a crown of braids atop her head.

To the Thunderhead’s left sat his second-in-command and brother, Poseidon, King of the Seven Seas. He bore blue tattoos in which depicted his undersea kingdom. In his hands was his trident, a mighty symbol of power forged from bronze and whalebone. The Earthshaker’s hair and stubble was sea green, his sides bearing a set of fish-like gills.

The Mountain King’s most adored son and daughter walked into the atrium, bowed, then took to their thrones awaiting council.

Phoebus Apollo, God of the Sun and Patron of the Arts, golden haired and dressed in a golden tunic, thrummed the strings of his lyre, filling the room with the sound of his sweet music.

Pallas Athena, Goddess of Wisdom and Strategy of War, wore a long blue dress reinforced with pieces of silver armor and a helmet decorated with a plume of blue horsehair. Her eyes were a striking gray, her skin fair, her hair as black as the midnight sky. The owl that had perched itself on her shielded arm bore feathers the color of rainclouds.

“Where are the others, your Highness?” Athena asked, tucking her helmet in the crook of her arm.

“They will be here soon enough. My bastards arrive now,” Zeus gestured to the Warrior and the Blacksmith. Ares Enyalios, God of War and Murder, glowed with the bloody red of his fallen enemies, a spear in one hand.

Ares said nothing to Zeus, not even looking in his direction, but he did march to his mother Hera. He planted a kiss to her cheek, then asked, “Why have I been called, your Majesty?” One couldn’t even glimpse his face through the darkness of his iron helmet with a crest of fire, although they could lay witness to the horror of his exposed body. He was without skin, showing only pink and red muscle, sinews and tendons underneath his armor.

Hephaestus, on the other hand, wasn’t as large or as strong as his brother. He was lame, his left leg shriveled like a sun-dried worm. He made up for this, though, with his industrial intuition. He burned with an orange light and used his black sledgehammer as a crutch. He, too, walked to his lone parent asking, “Where is my beloved, your Grace?”

“I’m here, you pig,” Aphrodite walked into the room followed by Hermes, the Messenger, and Artemis, the huntress and twin sister to Phoebus Apollo. Any mortal would see their wildest desires come to life in the Goddess of Love, but Aphrodite put on a specific appearance for the Olympian Council. She was fair skinned with flowing ginger hair. While the Huntress and the Messenger took to their respective thrones, Aphrodite stalked to her love Ares, running her perfectly manicured hands down the length of his body. Hephaestus ignored his wife’s infidelity, as he still loved her with all of his heart. “Is there a reason to why I’ve been evicted from my lovers, your Bitchiness?”

“You will cease your perversions, Patron of Prostitutes.” Zeus commanded, slamming his lightning down onto the marble floor. “My love,” Zeus pointed to Hera with the bolt, “The floor is yours.”

Hera rose from her throne and tapped her lotus-tipped scepter on the oval floor, creating a window of magic upon the grounds surrounding Mount Olympus. “The Titans have returned. They have broken free from their prisons and are declaring war on the Greek Pantheon. My messenger, Iris, has informed me that they have gained both the trust and support of the Hecatoncheires.”

“How many are still alive after billions of years in Tartarus?” Ares asked as he sat Aphrodite in his lap, her soft hands continuing to trace the swirls and slivers of his flesh.

“Enough to storm Olympus and burn it to the ground.” Poseidon solemnly answered.

“I see,” Ares picked up his spear and paced the length of the room, the fire of his helmet leaving behind a trail of embers. “And what of us? What say you? Are the Olympians fighting alone or are we fighting the Titans at are full ranks?” As Ares paced, his bronze armor changed and shifted. He remained skinless but was now armored in many plates of SWAT gear. His spear had been replaced with an assault rifle adorned with a grenade launcher, and at his side was a large assortment of explosives.

The waves of the sea stirred with Poseidon’s mind. “We can all fight for a millennia if we must, but it will hardly be enough. The Moirai, who will be fighting in their own ways, have glimpsed into the future. They have told my brother, your father, what will happen after this war.”

Zeus held his head high, “We will all perish. You will die, as will Atlas. Aphrodite will fall, as will Mnemosyne. And I will die, as will Kronos.”

Ares returned to his throne. “I see…” He now saw a young woman singing of war and destruction for a crowd of rejects. “This prophecy, as cruel as it might be, doesn’t need to entail our downfall. Yes, we will die, but the universe must be kept in balance on our end.”

Athena, who had remained silent the entirety of the meeting, strode to her half-brother’s side. “What I believe Ares is trying to make clear is that our Pantheon must go on. As much as I dislike agreeing with him, I believe replacements, successors, are in order.”

“We will hold the line, and Olympus will prevail!” Ares, in all his glory, stood in his iron fortress on the edge of Mount Olympus, his soldiers ever ready.

Hermes watched over the confounds of Olympus, his winged sandals fluttering to keep him upright. He called down to his Zeus, his father, “We need a contingency!”

Zeus nodded, then wore a gray business suit. The King of the Heavens now stood on a beach, where children were being taught how to surf along the waves. As he walked, his thundery hair and lighting filled eyes crackled with solemn determination. He conjured his bolt of lightning, a column of crackling copper, silver, and gold coiled around each other.

He paid no mind to the surfing children, instead focusing his attention solely on their instructor. She was young, no more than fifteen, with midnight black hair. Her arms were decorated in Polynesian tattoos. She had an inquisitive mind, one that wanted to command. A mind that wanted to rule. She was happily clapping, cheering on one of the young ones for managing to surf along a sizeable wave.

Despite her protests, the God King pulled her away from the site, placing the bolt between her hands once they were away from prying eyes. In that instant, Audra fell to her knees in agony. Her hands burned as glowing gray lightning bolts branded themselves into her palms. “Do me proud, Audra Noelani.”

#

Artemis walked through the tents as the soldiers of the Northern Union recovered themselves. Apollo walked beside his sister as they weaved in between the man-made covers. It was then that they saw them.

One of the children bore long, wispy black hair and gray eyes, while her cousin has golden brown eyes and blond locks. Artemis and Apollo, Twin Gods of the Sun and Moon, took aim with their golden and silver bows, releasing them with pride and determination. As the arrow pierced Charlotte’s shoulder, a crescent moon burning itself into her pale skin, Artemis knelt before her and said, “Come now, little one, you’re safe now.”

Charlotte, now glowing with a faint silver light, scurried to her younger cousin’s side as his scream pierced the air. A sigil replicating the sun itself etched into his Adam’s apple. The Golden Archer knelt before the crying boy, offering a smile and a smaller bow constructed of gold and cherry wood. As Gabriel took the bow and quiver with shaky, hesitant hands, Apollo said, “ Don’t be scared now. You’re alright, I’m here now.”

With a flash of pure light, the twin gods and the two children disappeared, leaving behind a grieving, frantic mother and aunt and a legacy shrouded in mystery. The Missing Children of Hue would be what remained of Charlotte May-Reiner and Gabriel LeBeau.

#

Hephaestus rolled through the humble, family owned mechanics shop, his electric wheelchair humming as he went. His brown pinstripe looked out of place amongst the haphazardly arranged equipment and oil stained aprons. The Blacksmith at last ventured towards the back of the shop, where a paraplegic boy with shaggy red hair and lanky body tinkered with pieces of what was probably a larger project.

Hephaestus’ hands conjured a flame, eliciting a flow of lava to pour out of the seams of the storage room. The walls surrounding the boy burned, though no one but he could see them. Hephaestus retrieved his massive sledgehammer from the embers, then rolled over to the boy, who was justifiably frightened. The god struck the boy in his kneecaps, the blows burning into the shape of orange anvils. The child, no more than twelve, bellowed in pain, tears pricking his eyes. Hephaestus steadied the boy, taking the metal pieces he’d been tinkering with previously and reworked them, changing them into a swan much too delicate to have been crafted by the Blacksmith’s large hands. The swan fluttered around the boy’s head, momentarily distracting him from his pain.

“We have much to do, young one,” The Lame God said. “Come now.” The boy snapped his head towards the Blacksmith, nodding despite his hesitance.

#

Ares, wearing a full set of riot armor, leaning against the balcony of the underground club where punks and rejects and society outcasts gathered to socialize. On the stage, illuminated by red, black and white lights, was a band which went unnamed, as their reputation spoke for them. His fiery gaze shifted to their lead vocalist, a rather tall Latina with short, choppy brown hair. She had the build of someone who had played sports as a child, or, in the god’s perspective, one fit for a warrior. A crow, as if on cue, perched on her shoulder.

The God of War drew his long, razor sharp spear and then took aim. “You’ll make a perfect champion.” Ares threw the now glowing spear at the girl, her collarbone now burning as a red boar’s head took its place where the wound should have been. Aloisa laughed at the pain, proceeding to draw her pocketknife and lunge at her guitarist.

#

Athena wore a simple linen gown, though it was adorned with identifying plates of Athenian armor. She studied the scrolls strewn across the villa floor, her face as stone cold as it had been during the Council meeting. Most depicted machines that could never possibly work, others were just the ramblings of a madman. She set one of the scrolls onto the mahogany table, casting her gaze over to the boy who stood idle in the doorway. He was twelve, maybe older, with hair so blonde that it was nearly white. His eyes were a striking, glassy silver hue.

Before he could speak and alert anyone that might have been lingering outside, Athena took a paintbrush from a cup that littered the table and broke the art supply into two jagged halves.

The boy stared at the Goddess of Wisdom with wide eyes, the papers he’d been holding crashing to the stone floor. She approached him carefully, a rare smile on her wise face. Kneeling down to the child’s height, Athena used the broken end of the brush to carve an owl into the side of his neck. The young one seethed in pain, nails digging into his pale palms. The owl pulsed with a light the same silver as his eyes.

“I have so much planned for you, Cato,” Pallas Athena sighed, raising to her full height. “You will be the wisest of us.” She took his hand in her own, leading Cato away from the life  and the people that had forsaken him so.

#greek gods #twelve olympians #zeus #hera #poseidon #hades #demeter #hestia #athena #artemis #apollo #ares #aphrodite #dionysus #hermes #original story

[datarevived]

   -- Ⅰ : ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀsᴛ ᴄɪᴛʏ

The Last City.

The final bastion of humanity.

Surely, it was a sight to behold. 

Mouth parted in a quiet gasp as the ship flew across the staggering city beneath, the Awoken sat eagerly against the window as various colors and sounds ignited to their surroundings. The smells of fuel, surprisingly becoming more and more masked by other scents -- food? Firewood? As ricochet bullets and fireworks cracked beyond that of ones' aircraft jets, a distant training grounds that could be spotted below sporting several teams of Guardians who seemed to be going at it fist to fist. 

Even in the mist of war, it seemed those who strove to survive were none short on their livelihood.

The Tower which sat in the distance, its' mass quickly becoming larger by the moment, had also been decored in life. Ample bodies walking about the perimeter, with armed guards treated at every corner. Guardians -- she knew these for fact, based on the various armor and attire verses that of the civilians, seemed endless. Those presently docking their own crafts, while those who had objectives departed with haste. She could feel her seat shake at each revel of ones' hyperjump, their ships cracking the sounds of wind as they blasted off.

    " Welcome to the Tower, “ a mans' voice greeted. One of the Hunter's from the patrol unit that had helped her out of the sinkhole, his coated frame standing in the doorway of the pilot pit. His features, unknown to her ability as he dawned in thick fabric and armor head to toe - leaving his voice in a set reverb to ones' helmet. " You ready? "

    " Mm..mhm. "

As soon as bay doors began to crack, the suction of air catch her off guard as she stumbled back a moment. The setting sun illuminating the scene in a beautiful glow, the immediate noise of people flooding into her ears. Already, she could count over four discussions going on - automatize tones that belonged to machine, tinier voices that belonged to plenty a Ghost -- inquiries to none in particular, but any who would listen or required the necessary help to do so. 

It was so... alive. 

Almost overwhelming in a sense, the scenic overlay causing her head to dizzy once more. Was it natural for all Guardians to start off so unbalanced? She'd have to ask, once getting more comfortable with the place. 

The Hunter on standby was waiting at the bottom of the airlock, giving the Awoken a moment before he waves a gentle hand for her to follow. Leading her through the open roof of the Tower, stairs downward into more secluded life. At one point, by-passing what could have been used as a garden, all left with a single tree that seem to bloom in the center of the small courtyard. As robot-esq humanoids sat along the floors, tinkering with their own guns and devices - others merely stood in place, sweeping a broom back and forth.

Yet there was one building in particular that caught her attention as they walked. Perhaps due to the scent, or mayhaps the loudness of ones' patrons - a small hole-in-the-wall shop that served hand-crafted noodles by the bowl. Its' stall nearly cramped from occupation as several people sat and stood around the  countertop, laughing about their stories and ringing up another round of beverage. The smells of the broth and multiple spices trapping her nose like some sort of chain, her throat watering in brief nostalgia before picking up her feet to gain ground with the other. 

" I'd recommend it, " the Hunter chuckled, turning a view over his shoulder as panicked footsteps tracked to his backside. " S'good. Even if it is a hobby now n' days. "

This time, he leads her to another set of stairs. Upward and fairly brief -- leading to a balcony in which a woman presently stood. A makeshift bird stand rested next to her arm, with massive hawk perched in view as it turned its' attention to the approaching duo. A click of its' beak in greeting as the woman turned in welcome.

" Back so soon Hunter? Don't tell me you lost the other two already. "

" Nah. They're still on route, but, had to make a relay before we finished, " the man explained, siding an arm toward the other present. " Got ourselves a new Light. Figured you can fill her in. "

At the mention, the Awoken fidgets a bit. A hand raised to her opposing elbow, gripping at the torn cloth of her shirt in nerves. A struggle to rest eye contact with the other woman, attention bouncing between she and the hawk. So much socializing so soon... it was uneasy.

" New Light, huh? Explains the civilian look, almost had me hopeful for more company on my side of the field, " the woman grins, crossing her arms at her chest. " Don't worry, I got it from here. Get back with your team before they get too far ahead. I don't need Cayde breathing at my back because I lost a set of his boys. "

" Eh, he doesn't own us, " the man laughed, waving a hand in farewell. Offering the Awoken a gentle pat on the shoulder before turning his guard, making it half way down the stairs before pausing in a hunch, " Oh - and when you're done giving her the tour, drop her by the shop. Can take the payment out of my share. Call it newbies' welcome. "

An exasperated huff, the woman parts one of her arms from her chest briefly, shooing the man away before turning back to her newly company with a smile. 

" So... the Traveler's still got it. The Vanguard will be pretty happy to hear there's still a chance of new Light's like you. We haven't gotten many since the blackout. How're you feelin'? "

" I feel... fine, I guess, " the Awoken answered hesitantly. Fluttering irises sheepishly making out the details of the others' face and wares now that it was just the two of them. She didn't look like the rest of the Guardians... yet her presentation sat all the same confidence. " Still... kinda grasping everything. "

" It's a lot to take in, " the other nods. " Don't stress yourself too much. It'll all sort itself out in due time. Always affects people a little differently, so I've noticed. You want any water or anything? Something I can help? "

" N-No.. that's not necessary. Thank you, though... uhm... "

" Suraya. Suraya Hawthorne, " the woman grinned. " But most here just call me Hawthorne. "

" Hawthorne... ah... thank you, for.. y'know, " the Light stumbles upon words, self grip upon her arm shuffling in thought. It was so hard to speak. " Are you a Guardian as well...? "

" Me? Nah, " Hawthorne shrugged, uncrossing her arms now as one extends to reach a finger under the Hawk's neck. A satisfied purr ruffling its' feathers in the attention. " I'm just a glorified nobody. Most here consider me the bridge between humanity and the Guardians - sayin' that my leadership is what's helping those without the Traveler get by. But ever since coming to the Tower, I guess I've also become the therapy necessary for transitioning Lights like you. You know, tailoring between both worlds, sorta thing. "

In some matter of speaking, it was relieving to hear, coming from another. That not all Guardians' where up and att'em moment they revived -- that a transition was by all means necessary. Either that, or it was just the others' aura that seemed gentle and honest. The beginning to a long stretch that would be the Awoken's trust in the people of the City and its' Vanguard.

" Speaking of which, where's your little guy? Or gal - no judge, " the woman questioned, a brow quirking at the quick altercation as her finger left the nudge of the Hawk.

" It's... he -- " 

  -- " Here, here! Sorry - sorry, I seemed to have gotten caught up in all the networking since getting close to the city, " blinking into existence, the Ghost rattled its' shell in frantic speak. Its' shell zooming in between the space that lingered between the two women, then hovering particularly aligned with the bird in staring. " It's just so... much! Too much, a lot to take in right away. Did you know there was over ten passcodes to enter the City's network? Over ten! "

" Got yourself a chatty one, didn't you? " Hawthorne laughed, tilting her head some as she examined the Ghost. " Firewalls, pal. Necessary to keep the bad taillights outta the bags of information. I'm sure someone here can catch you up to speed once you pass the Vanguard's evaluation. Then there'll be no more passcodes. "

" The Vanguard? " the Awoken blinked. " Who is...? "

" The Vanguard are the head-honchos' of this place. The gears that keep the City going - one of them being right over there, " she points, directing attention at another woman on the lower floor. " Ikora Rey. One of the best, if not the best, Warlock there is. Definitely one of the more mentally sound of the bunch. Then there's big blue, Zavala - you might've seen him when you flew in if he's at his usual perch. Can usually find him overshadowing the city off the Tower's edge. There's a lot of strong Titan's out there... but powered by his sheer determination to protect the people, he gives' people a run for their money. "

" What about the Hunters...? Or is that where you come in? "

The question leaving little to be answered in the matter, the womans' brows anchor upward in jest as she shakes her head, a laughterous tone to her words, " Nah, not me - no way. I can't keep up with those maniacs. Though it is a wonder if they'd be just as reckless with a different mentor on the field... " a sigh, though not in forfeit. " Cayde-6. Best shot around, but plenty of screws loose. He's a... pretty eccentric guy. "

Well, that didn't sound good.

Between the several named, all in which felt completely out of her league, the Awoken shifted in her step. A secondary glance at the woman below, hands running through several piles of paperwork that were scattered along a hand-crafted table. She was unfamiliar with that of Warlocks and what they inherited... but by the sounds of it, it seemed only reasonable to seek that Vanguard through its' calmest mind.

" And their evaluation.. process.. " she speaks, eyes returning back to Hawthorne. " Some sort of test? "

" A test of character, really. Consider it more an interview than exam. If you haven't realized it yet, most Guardians have this affinity for seeing others' light. The Vanguard are particularly precise in that merit. Can tell a good taillight from bad taillight, " Hawthorne nodded her head side to side as she spoke, declaring the differences between the two. " I can get you and the Misses' downstairs acquainted if you like. "

Gotta start from somewhere, right?

" I.. would like that, yes. "

Another smile, Hawthorne then turns to the hawk at her aide, giving its' neck another tap before walking alongside the other. " Eyes on the sky, Bird. And watch for the turbines, will ya'? "

" Its' name is Bird? " the Light repeated, her tone perplexed.

" I'm not good with names - too many of'em to keep track of, " Hawthorne admitted, leading the way back down the stairs of the small hall. " Just makes things easier, y'know?... What about you? You got a name? "

A name.

How odd -- she hadn't considered her own name til now, even through the mental capacity of trying to learn every other. The Hunter on the ship only addressing her as ' new Light ', and her Ghost -- as well nameless -- a ' Guardian '. Each name sitting upon title and lacking the personalization of character.

What was her name...?

. . . . .

. . .

" ...I'm Selene. "

" Selene? Nice to meet you, Selene. "

#✦ ᴏʀɪɢɪɴ / drabble #d2 short-story #d2 story #destiny 2 #destiny 2 rp

[chrysalispen]

locum tenens (NSFW)

In which Nero is extremely conflicted about. Um. A lot of things, but Cid and Aurelia specifically.

(Set during ARR, post-Titan MSQ. Masturbation, but it’s an implied threesome and there’s fairly overt Cid/Nero overtones in this one, so give it a pass if that isn’t your thing.)

NSFW under the cut. 

===================================================

He has long since lost focus on the evening's work. For the last bell the buzz of the overhead fluorescents have proven a most effective distraction: one of the bulbs is about to die. It flickers at random, the flaring and receding patterns of light in his already sensitive eyes leaving him with both a burgeoning headache and an increasingly foul mood. 

Thus, the tribunus laticlavius has instead chosen to tilt the adjustable back of his office chair as far back as it will go and stare blankly into space for some unspecified amount of time. His pale blue eyes tilt upwards and relegate the faulty bulb to his periphery, tracking some fixed point within the maze of crisscrossed steel supports that adorn the castrum ceiling like a roof strewn with bones. 

It's quiet. Late night. Other than the Fifth Cohort's rookies running the graveyard shift guard duty along the castrum perimeter, everyone else has sought their bed. Everyone, that is, save one Nero tol Scaeva, currently finding his office ceiling a fascinating subject of study, and whomever else in the XIVth Legion that might at this juncture have eschewed the blood in their veins in favor of roughly equivalent amounts of caffeine. 

Van Baelsar being one of them, probably.

With a slow and careful exhalation Nero stares down at the files sitting in his lap. He's long since shed his armor; it's sitting polished and neat in its compartments until he has need to don it again -- another eikon investigation, perhaps -- and he is clad only in carbonweave breeches and a loose, untucked linen undershirt. Even his boots sit by the door, and if the legatus were to enter right this moment he knows he'd get a long and piercing hazel stare and a thinly veiled lecture about the dress code.

But neither the Black Wolf nor one of his lectures appears to be forthcoming, meaning Nero will pass another sleepless night alone with naught but a pile of tomestones and paper. 

More distractions from Project Ultima that he would prefer not to have. But he agreed to accept the posting, and the posting included a duty as the head of legate counterintelligence, and he might as well do something productive if he can't sleep. Old habits die hard.

At length he wrenches his gaze away from the ceiling (where it had returned while he considered putting his boots back on, at the very least). Runs a restless hand through thick platinum-blond curls. Glancing at the door one last time as if to satisfy his silent suspicion that he is the only man awake at this hour, before forcing himself to return his focus to the godsdamned reports.

He leafs slowly and thoughtfully through the copied printouts he'd selected from the raw data earlier in the day. Since Operation Quicksand's semi-successful conclusion he's had his men scouring the surrounding region for any sign of the missing adventurer who somehow managed to escape Livia's net. 

Somehow. He allows himself a smirk.

He picks up the reading glasses from their perch on the lacquered edge of the table and skims a few more pages of the assembled dossier.

His man's stakeout along the Sunroad has yielded unexpected fruit: not one, but two persons of interest. A woman matching the adventurer's description was recently seen around the so-called town of Camp Drybone, little more than a rest stop with a chapel run by some religious order or other.

He'd expected that, of course. She wouldn't have strayed far from Vesper Bay. 

It's the other one that catches his eye, one of the apparent clergymen at first blush. The beard throws him for a handful of minutes; it adds years to the man's face, makes him look far more like someone else Nero used to know. But the question lingers for barest moments, and then vestigial memory locks the rest into place, fills in the holes that time has eroded.

A cold and mirthless smile twitches at the edges of his lips. 

So. Alive, then. 

He's not sure whether to question the strange watershed sensation of relief or to let himself ruminate over that tight coil of anger already forming in his gut. The bastard should be  gone  , by all rights, out of  everyone's lives, but especially Nero's. 

He tosses that picture to the desk along with the neatly typed file clipped to it, reaches for his coffee (long since gone cold), and downs the rest of it in one sitting. It's only his iron control over his temper that keeps him from slamming the earthenware vessel onto the surface of the table in a fit of pique. 

Shite and hellsfire, matters were unbearable enough when he thought he must needs merely contend with the man's ghost. 

Setting the file and his glasses aside, he picks up the other: a much smaller dossier, owing largely to its subject's relative obscurity. There is surprisingly little information about her beyond army records. Highborn, but of unremarkable parentage and even less remarkable service. No different, surely, from any of the other pureblooded ladies who play chirurgeon for their requisite four year tours.

The difference, of course, being that this woman is supposed to be dead and clearly that is not the case. 

The Scions of the Seventh Dawn have done remarkably well to conceal her identity; it gives one cause to wonder what other secrets they might be keeping close to the chest. No doubt Livia is now taking great pleasure in wresting that information out of them.

She has been seen in Garlond's company, he muses. 'Tis most like she is an associate of his in some capacity, most likely professional by his man's reports, unless of course Garlond has taken more of a liking to the girl than he would have assumed.

Nero unclips the photo and studies it in silence, steepling his fingers before his lips as he leans forward in the chair. Committing that face to memory.

Carefully he places the file atop the collection of paperwork and pushes back the chair, padding towards the entrance to his quarters on bare feet. As he does so, he ignores the chill of corrugated steel against his soles. He's felt far worse. 

One of the few objective advantages of his lofty rank within the XIVth is the privacy it affords him. Second in command and privy to extremely sensitive information, he cannot afford a security breach. The door is soundproofed and can only be opened upon his command; locking it will alert the guards standing watch to dissuade any unexpected visitors -- and that he will brook no interruptions.

He throws the deadbolt. Behind him the dying light continues to flicker. 

He stares at the switch panel, considering for a brief moment, then uses the flat of his hand to push all of them down simultaneously, and the flickering is blessedly gone. Cool blue light from the walls spills across the darkened room like water.

That done, Nero turns towards the entrance to his personal quarters. Empty office space he only uses during his visits to this particular outpost, adorned with a desk, a small console with his feeds from R&D, and two small metal armoires. 

Between them, situated behind the soulless steel table, there lies a long and narrow cot with a stiff, uncomfortable mattress and a single thin blanket. Up until now, it has gone untouched. Nero has long since accustomed himself to falling asleep upon whatever surface exhaustion places him, and that's been in labs for countless weeks now, his fingers wrapped about a mug of coffee with a tomestone scrolling raw data for decryption on the screen before him. 

Nero sits down on the edge of the cot, swings his legs up and over the side, and stretches his lanky frame from end to end -- he is a tall man even by Garlean standards, and his toes are only an ilm or two shy of the armoire. There is no pillow so he folds his arms behind his head and lets his eyes fall shut, listens to the soft and even whisper of air through his nose as he takes a breath, lets it out, takes another. 

He's not going to fall asleep like this, though. Not with his mind defying him, still moving a malm a minute.

Sifting idly through spare bits of information for something his mind can use, his thoughts turn to the woman. Adventurer, defector, a cipher in and of herself. 

The photo that now lies in Frumentarium's keeping is somewhat outdated now, but still reasonably accurate to his memory of her battles otherwise: hair the color of honey, falling in soft and loose waves to tumble past slim, proud shoulders. Dark blue eyes. An almost unreasonable air of personal composure. In the dark and quiet stillness of his sealed chambers he can paint a picture of her in his mind's eye, what he has witnessed of her, a force of nature in battle -- and there is an appeal in that strength which Nero won't deny. He has ever appreciated power in all its forms.

Idly he wonders what she would look like without the unadorned battle robes of a conjurer: a context in which there would be no cause for her soft mouth to set in that grim line, nor eyes to harden as they stare down a dangerous opponent. No crudely fashioned silver circlet to conceal that third eye, a mark of her heritage that in a just world she could display with pride.

Softly disheveled, she would appear quite different. Candlelit glow against gold and the porcelain field of flesh laid bare, indigo eyes perhaps burning with a different sort of fire. Mouth slack and soft, the lips parted ever so slightly, to admonish or to laugh or to whisper. To smile. 

Perhaps even to kiss, he thinks, and for some reason that is the thought that spears itself down the core of his spine. Heat blossoms in his groin. 

His hand strays to his waistband and lingers, settling over the silver clasp of the first buttons without unfastening them just yet. As a younger man he would have been impatient to seek release, but now that he has so little free time to himself these days, save stolen moments such as these, he prefers to take a more relaxed approach. He rests the flat of his palm upon his belly, giving the heat and tension time to build upon themselves. Beneath his gently curled fingers he can sense the indentation of his navel and a light mat of wiry blond curls, tapering downward in a smooth line from the broad planes of his chest.

The tribunus opens his eyes, staring sightlessly at the darkened ceiling.

She'd smiled once, after one of those battles: a quiet, shy thing that had lit up her face as she said something to the man accompanying her. Another Scion associate, or a lover? 'Tis rumored the adventuring profession attracts a certain free-spirited sort of individual. If the defector is of that bent, he imagines she has had her share of suitors, if not simply like-minded souls willing to warm her bed when the mood strikes.

Perhaps Garlond is one of them. 

A sullen annoyance arises at the thought and Nero kills it swiftly, before it can put him back into the less-than-ideal state of mind he'd come in here to dispel. It isn't likely, for one. The same man who had reported their presence in Camp Drybone had also provided a rough map from his memory of the chapel interior, in case the tribunus might decide to order a raid on the premises to arrest them. The floor plan is open, spread among narrow and rough-hewn wooden pews -- no room there for trysting clerics.

Or is there? The Academy's floor plan had included a similar layout in the main lecture halls, and there had been winter nights where the snowfall had been so heavy and the gales so dangerous a student could risk their lives simply attempting to walk back to the dormitories. Sometimes they'd be shut in the school building for days at a time, bundled two to a pallet along the floors at night for warmth through body heat while the arctic wind wailed around steel eaves. 

Nero knows from personal and very lived experience that one could get up to some interesting pursuits beneath those heavy blankets with one's instructors none the wiser, were one so inclined. 

And the desert is quite cold at night. 

Have they maintained professional distance, or have they indulged themselves? Shared more than body warmth of a cold and lonely evening? 

Nimble fingers slip the silver-plated button through the first loop, loosens his breeches just enough to allay some of the growing discomfort, and his cock twitches at the sensation of touch in its general vicinity. His lower lip catches for just a split second between his teeth before his fingers move to unfasten another.

He would never admit it to a living soul but he can remember the precise location of every one of the calluses that work and long hours had worn into Cid nan Garlond's hands. Can almost feel the half-remembered sensation of roughened fingertips and broad palms tracing their circuitry patterns down his back from shoulder to waist and beyond. The memory brings no rancor with it, and that, he finds, is a surprise in itself. 

His eyes fall shut again, and this time his breathing is ever so slightly uneven. Another button slips from its confines, then a fourth when he finds no relief to be had from the pressure of his own clothing. A noticeable ridge has formed beneath the carbonweave and with a light and questing touch he places his palm upon it, notes the way it stretches and strains against the coated fibers. It's warm to the touch, and acutely sensitive; his breath hisses between clenched teeth upon contact and his knees flex in response, heels drawing an ilm or two upward. The motion drags his feet away from the cold steel armoire and he exhales, a trembling gust of air.

He begins to touch himself in earnest. Slow and firm and unhurried strokes, palm gently cupped about the half-clothed shaft, heel of his palm applying just enough pressure to feel each subsequent twitch as it occurs.

Nero knows his touch intimately, but the adventurer's (defector's) is as much a mystery as the rest of her. She would be soft, he muses. Soft and smooth, the tiny hairs on the surface of her skin like the nap of fine velvet: an exquisite contrast to her partner, toned muscle and wiry silver filament strands against the rough homespun pallet. 

From there it is easy to imagine the two of them entwined, concealed from prying eyes beneath their shared blankets in the cool desert night. Calloused hands upon slim and elegant shoulders, drawing the simple linen conjurer's robes along her limbs and down to pool at her waist. The heat in those ceruleum-blue eyes of hers, when those same strong fingers trace the shape of her collarbone before descending upon the soft and pliant weight of her breasts.

The final button undone, he carefully lifts his hips from the mattress so he can move his loose breeches to mid-thigh, then slides the elastic waistband of his smalls down and over the curve of his hips, just enough to expose his aching cock to the night air. The surface of his skin feels... electric, a living levin conduit. His heartbeat is a drum pounding its rhythm in his ears. 

He wraps a hand about himself, a short gasp escaping his lips at the sensation, and the pace he sets is far less measured than before.

It isn't only Garlond that Nero imagines now, breathing ragged and heavy beneath the close darkness of homespun blankets, learning the adventurer’s body with the meticulous eye reserved for an engineer's schematic. It's himself as well, his curious nature making it impossible for him to refrain from conducting his own investigation - and his jealousy, the pride that leaves him unwilling to allow even a phantom Cid borne of his own fevered imaginings to possess aught that Nero tol Scaeva wants for himself. 

The shy little smile he remembers has become something approaching wicked as she presents herself to him, lounging with her back relaxed against Cid's broad chest and his arms wrapped fondly about her waist. He would enfold that slender frame in his arms, soft warm skin damp from sweat. Inhale the scent he'd caught that day in the caverns, trapped within the skeins of blonde hair that slip across his chest. 

Her long legs flex when she parts them and his gaze catches upon the small cap of curls nestled at the apex of her thighs, soft and lush and inviting. 

In his mind's eye he sheathes himself in one stroke: an easy and perfect slide into her cunt, slick and grasping and as hungry for him as he is for her- and then there are hands, not one set but two, hers tangled in his hair and Garlond's rough, broad ones, dragging across his back, soothing and sure and familiar. 

His back arches, hips rolling into the quickening movements of his hand, taut flesh slick with his own fluids. A deep moan, urgent and frantic, threads its way from his lips and goes all but unnoticed. Wholly caught within the gossamer threads of his own fantasy, he is entwined with them, pressed into that warm closeness they share, overcome both by lust and a deep-seated desire to possess whatever undefinable quality it is that seems to draw others to them. 

That draws Nero, for all his protests to the contrary. 

The heat and the painful tension in his belly surge, drawing to a point as fine and white-hot as the tip of an iron. Nero's free hand finds desperate purchase in the scratchy fabric of the blanket beneath, pulls, clenches into a fist so tight it will leave crescent-shaped indents in his palm even through the cheap synthetic wool.

The phantom lovers in his head sigh. His name is a prayer on her lips as she shudders around him. Another (far more familiar) mouth presses itself against his neck, an echo of her cry rasped in hot breath and a soft male rumble, and it is his undoing. 

The sound he makes when he comes is a broken and stuttering cry. Wet heat paints his bare stomach and the fingers wrapped snugly about his length. He lies on the cot for long moments without budging, staring into the darkness with unfocused fjord-blue eyes, his breathing rapid and loud and the pounding of his heart keeping time with the bright pulse still thrumming in his spent cock. 

His eyes adjust, eventually, as his heartbeat slows from its breakneck pace. 

He sees the same ceiling as before. Standardized castrum architecture. Soulless black steel, the neat and careful lines backlit by cool blue light, light that will turn a deep scarlet were he to switch on the fluorescents. The last vestiges of afterglow have faded. Garlond has been presumed dead for five years, his adventurer associate is a stranger with a bounty on her head for defection, and Nero is the engineer Gaius van Baelsar has rather than the one he wants. The acceptable substitute.

He is also no closer to sleep now than he was before. Too much on the mind, too much still left to do before the project is ready for a field test. Garlond and his eikon-slaying friend, wherever they are now, will have to wait upon further consideration, and Livia will have to accept what means of intelligence she has available. For now. 

Nero swings his legs carefully over the side of the cot, grimacing briefly at the mess. He uses the corner of the blanket to clean what he can as he tucks himself back into place and stands, thoughtfully buttoning his breeches. First order of business: fresh smalls, and a long shower. After that he might as well get back down to his lab and put on a fresh pot of coffee. He can work out his leftover frustration on that damned servomech he's been wrestling for the past few days.

And if he finds himself distracted by an old memory, or the whisper of a scent-

Well. 

He can ignore it.

#lemony meringue goodness #nero/wol #this was supposed to be pwp and turned into a study on nero's extremely complicated feelings towards his old friend #and his... maybe not quite as complicated feelings towards cid's cute adventurer lady friend #anyway don't read this at work kids #chrysalispen writes

[xenosgirlvents]

There is an ancient Terran saying barely remembered even by humans in their forty-odd millennia since it was first said. “The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.” La’al had never heard this saying, but if she had it would be echoing relentlessly in her head.  Said best laid plans had been to take back a young T’au world from a small force of Orks who had stolen it after the gue’la’s military had had their way with it. Her own squad, composed of a smattering of various auxiliaries and a handful of veteran Fire warriors, had been sent around to the east of the main Cadres in an attempt to corral the bhe’ghaal. But, rather clearly, those best laid plans had been shattered irreparably.

The young Shas’La’s tympanum were reverberating under the force of the never-ending fusillade of fire soaring over her head and pounding against the flickering Tidewalls and burning vehicular wrecks she was jogging past, willing herself not to outrun her la’rua. Moving as quickly as her squadmates could manage, they were slowed further under the weight of the injured they carried with them. La’al herself held Olatharal and Balantara – the two surviving Exodites who had joined the military alongside her – slung over her shoulders, cutting her ability to retaliate dramatically. She would have almost envied the two of them then, both unconscious and unable to hear the paradoxically raucous and operatic singing roaring out over the sound of gunfire as the army of Orks rolled inexorably closer, if not for the glinting of the small red gemstone Balantara clutched tightly in her fist.

The Exodite had risked death charging into the green tide to wrest it from her brother’s corpse, and La’al would sooner die herself than let that risk have been in vain. So, for now, she had to focus on surviving as blood – red, blue, green, and practically every color in between – splashed under the running hooves, boots, and talons of the retreating squad. Returning her focus to the task at hand, the young Shas crushed the still-living and profanity spewing severed head of one of the bhe’ghaal under-hoof.

There was only one warrior with them without a body in their grasp, and he wasn’t even a member of their squad. The breacher Shas’Ui ran alongside them, his heavier armor doing little to slow him down and his pulse blaster invaluable as the la’rua bolted between cover. Many of the Orks’ “squigs,” as La’al had heard her comrades yell, barreled toward and around them, squealing and snorting hungrily only to be all but disintegrated by the breacher’s plasma fire or else to be caught in vicious combat with the numerous Kroot hounds that had been loosed to cover the Cadres’ retreat

The distinctive whip-crack of rail-fire announced that they were nearing the end of their escape. The evacuation point was coming into view; surrounded by a veritable wall of Hammerheads and Broadsides – further bristling with Kroot rifles poking between the gaps and buzzing with the insectoid forms of Vespids – unloading their weaponry into the advancing horde, Mantas and Orcas were picking up as many survivors as they could, knowing that no stragglers were likely to survive once they were forced to fully extract. And standing atop her hover-drone just behind the wall of vehicles was Vre Da’ty, whirling her Honor Blade about and swatting away the projectiles flying at her as if they were barely more than flies.

The Ethereal was perfectly calm. The simple creatures advancing across the battlefield were far outside of their accurate range, and even if they weren’t, she knew that they would never see her as a priority target. Vre’Da’ty knew well that bhe’ghaal “philosophy” revolved around the concept of bigger being better, and she was far from the largest target they could train their primitive firearms upon. As such, she had elected to take the last craft to leave, knowing that the concept of leaving an Ethereal in such a hellish warzone for too long would motivate the Cadres’ survivors to move much faster. Coolly, she surveyed the surrounding area, pointing out approaching parties of survivors for the wall of guns to split for, when a red glinting caught her eye. Turning her head, she spotted Shas’La La’al and her surviving squadmates approaching as quickly as they could, defended by a breacher’s pulse blasts. A small smile creeping over her face at the young warrior’s apparent capacity to survive, she gestured to the small party and lowered her drone at the utterly incessant insistence of her honor guards.

The la’rua let out a collective sigh of relief as they saw a break form in the wall of metal to accommodate them, only a handful of craft left willing to make the risky lift. The party wasn’t a second too soon either, a number of the tanks and battlesuits already beginning to peel away and board the Mantas set aside for their evac. La’al almost cheered, herself, but it was cut off by a harsh scream from behind her. Turning sharply while maintaining her pace with her squad, she was shocked to see the Shas’Ui who had kept them covered being pulled back by a mass of pink flesh. The veteran warrior let out a barrage of curses and swears, firing his gun wildly as he tried to level it at the squig’s head to utterly no avail.

La’al knew he had no chance. The tanks were falling back, and those that were still holding were much too focused on the tide of green marching closer, the singing growing loud enough to all but silence the gunfire. Acting on instinct, she passed the unconscious Aeldari to the least burdened of her squad members and charged back, drawing her carbine as she went.

To the Shas’Ui, the young Fire warrior was a blur. A streak of his Sept’s color barged into the squig and rolled with it several meters in a tangle of vicious and bone shattering kicks, punches, and gun-bashes. Seizing the new chance at life with both fists, he began to drag himself back toward his dropped gun, grabbing the blaster and rolling over to aim it at the clash just in time to watch the Shas’La unload almost an entire magazine directly into the orkish animal’s eye. She roared her fury over the sounds of the battle as she shredded the creature that had dared harm the warrior who had guarded her squad’s escape.

Covered in the sizzling remains of the squig, La’al whipped back around to help the Shas’Ui up just as the rain of ballistic fire petered out. Dragging the veteran along on his crippled legs, La’al peered across the battlefield to see the Orks had stopped moving and almost none of them were firing a shot. But the ground still rumbled as if the entire horde was charging. Then, as the smoke from their vehicles’ engines cleared away, she saw why. The entire Ork horde joined in a single gruffly operatic chorus as an utter behemoth of metal rolled through the smoke, its treads alone towering over practically everything else on the battlefield.

“Bloodwind…” the two Shas uttered in unison as the Mega-Gargant opened its jaws to reveal what looked, to La’al’s cybernetic eyes, to be a stage on which stood a giant Ork in black armor with a white mask covering the right half of his face, and a gretchin in a frilly dress and long brown squig-wig perched atop his arm. The titanic machine’s guns began to spin up, sonic waves tearing across the battlefield as the Warboss began to sing in earnest from his stage, vast speakers on the Gargant’s chest blasting out the ballad almost loud enough to knock La’al from her feet.

The T’au forces still on the ground began raining fire at the colossal mobile fortress as they began pulling back with as much speed as they possibly could, Mantas and Orcas initiating their liftoff sequences even as tanks and suits mounted them. La’al herself bodily picked up the Shas’Ui and tore across the distance between them and the Manta that had taken aboard her la’rua. Even with all her speed though, by the time La’al arrived, the bay door was already almost closed, and no other ships were even near the ground.

“Oh no yOU FUCKING DON’T!” She screamed as, in a last act of desperation, the young Fire warrior gathered her strength, leapt dozens of feet into the air, and threw the older Shas through the door just before it could close.

The transports pulled away just before the Gargant’s guns could begin unleashing their stream of death. But as the Exodites aboard it roused themselves back into consciousness, their first sight was an injured breacher pounding his fists against the door, cursing as if his life depended on it. From the other end of the craft, Vre’Da’ty saw the same, and the three of them quickly came to the same realization.

Shas’La H’kek’an La’al had been left behind. The Little Hero was alone.

(Honestly, I barely even know what kind of commentary to leave here this time. So I’ll just go with the standard “Hope you enjoy it, and please share any questions and critiques you have”)

Okay! So wow, this was actually really good, honestly! I enjoyed in general the way you wrote about the inclusion of certain T’au specifics to the battle: not standing and engaging in a battle of attrition when they still have room to redeploy in, the use of the Tidewalls to provide cover for their withdrawing infantry, the use of the Breacher Shas’ui (Breachers are a favourite unit of mine conceptually, I wish we had a Fire Warrior 2 Game only so that Kais could cart around a Pulse Blaster-like shotgun to kill Marines with) and I enjoyed the Ethereal too, with the good addition that they actually undermine the normal Ork threat assessment pattern, that’s actually a really good point I haven’t thought about before but it’s true!

As always I also enjoyed heavily your use of T’au terminology throughout the piece. This is something I sometimes struggle with, as it can slow me down, but you make consistent use of T’au words throughout which helps it feel engaging and engrossing by making it clear who we’re reading this from.

I am very curious as to how this will go, but I already foresee La’al perhaps ending up surviving on her own for an extended period of time, ghosting Orks, before being rediscovered by other T’au? Whatever it is you have in mind I look forwards to it, this has really been the highlight for me of anything 40k related for a while now :)

#warhammer #Warhammer 40k #Warhammer 40000 #t'au #tau #t'au empire #tau empire #la'al #fanfiction #submission

[voiceofrasputin]

(Mun note: Hope you don’t mind a random event starter! With Ana’s full powers returned, she’s very excited and won’t leave me alone!)

Ana looked to the sky, and hissed through her teeth as she saw the even larger island descend. Fuck, and this was after power had been lost, and after all of the initial chaos that these “NULL” shitheads had started. Damnit, where was Rasputin and his Warsats when she needed him-

Oh. It just... stopped. Well, at least she, along with everyone else who lived here, didn’t have to worry about being crushed alive. (In reality, she’d come back, but she hadn’t seen any other Guardians yet, and she didn’t like the thought of being alone, with only Jinju for company.) Maybe things wouldn’t go straight to hell-

Uh oh. Those pink beams couldn’t be anything good. She tensed, mentally telling Jinju to stand by for a resurrection, just in case those were guiding beacons for some sort of missile-esque weapon (or weapons)-

Oh, fuck. That was even worse! 

Formless things manifested from wherever the beams struck, and shapeshifted into... well, it seemed anything was fair game. Some things, admittedly, she didn’t recognize, some things looked like they came right outta some cartoon or book, but there was no mistaking the forms of Fallen, Cabal, and especially no mistaking the forms of various Hive. She doubted they were the real deal, but upon seeing them fight, it was obvious that they were just as much a threat as the real deal. Shit, how was she going to stand a chance against an army like that with just her strength, regeneration, resurrection, and a Traveler-damned wooden pole for defense-

Until she felt it. Just like when the Light returned after the Young Wolf killed Ghaul and woke up the Traveler. Her powers were back! Eyes aglow with Light, a downright demonic grin came across her face. It was only widened when the full array of her weaponry appeared all around her. The IKELOS weapons all around her, Sleeper Simulant on her back, and Polaris Lance in her hand... it was as if she’d never lost them in the first place! She had Jinju transmat what she couldn’t carry on her person away, just in case. Now, time to look for some trouble-

Well, that didn’t take long. A Cursed Thrall was about to sneak up on some old guy in a large suit of blue armor (almost like a Titan, but she wasn’t sure he was a Titan), and he didn’t seem to notice... 

“HEY! OLD MAN! WATCH OUT!” She called, before drawing one of her knives, infusing it with her Solar Light, and throwing it with an aim only years upon years of practice could grant her. It landed square in the center of the Cursed Thrall’s forehead, leading to the Hive creature exploding violently with a pained shriek. The explosion proceeded to also take out quite a few of the surrounding creatures, and after the explosion finished, Ana deftly maneuvered from her perch closer to the armored man, and smiled at him.

“Do you know your way around guns? I’ve got a few I can lend to you for the moment, if you want. If nothing else, two fighters is better than one, especially against a swarm of Hive!” She offered. 

@sterrenlied

#voices-adventures #escalation-protocol #event: security breach part 2 #sigma 1 #ana is very happy #yes she did just call him old #even though in all likelihood she's probably technically older than he is #because guardians like her don't physically age after a certain point and are basically immortal #but she's calling him old anyways XD

[elaraves]

Lost Light

With much effort, Elara managed to squeeze through parts of the ruined city wall. Ahead of her was the wilds, untamed and dangerous to go unarmed. The tops of the trees that lined the edge of the woods waved to her. She gave one last look up and behind her to make sure no Cabal was sitting in wait at the perimeter. All she found was more ash and destruction. She couldn’t help but feel sad and scared. Her home and people were in ruin and she only had her Ghost to accompany her into the unknown.

Calm yourself. She took a moment to breathe. Question seemed to notice her hesitation and remained silent.

Her fiery eyes flashed open once more and she dashed for the treeline. She ducked under and behind the brambles and peeked back towards where she was. Nothing had changed. No one was pursuing her. She stood and continued her stealthy trek onward.

EE:// Outskirts // 4 Days after Tower attack

She had to find a weapon and rations. Anything to help sustain herself. She was tired of picking berries that Question told her were safe. It was growing colder the further away she moved from the City. She didn’t even know where she was heading. She could also hear the sounds of Cabal, Fallen, and various other predators out beyond where they camped at night. Question always looked out for her and she was careful not to draw unwanted attention to them, but she definitely didn’t sleep much anymore.

“Evie look!” Question gasped.

She stopped and looked up. A beautiful brown falcon was perched above them. It looked well cared for and fed. Strange. It was looking intently at them and screeched, before taking flight away.

“Weird. Was it looking for something?” Elara wondered.

“As long as it doesn’t try flying off with me,” Question stated.

Elara watched where it flew to, and continued walking the same path. Once they reached the edge of the ledge they were on, she came to a dead stop and gasped.

A moderately sized campsite was set up right under them. A handful of corpses were scattered amongst it. The area looked destroyed and ripped through. There was a struggle, but ultimately they were all slain.

“Those are.. Guardians,” Question gasped.

Elara quickly skidded down the gravel incline into the camp. Hurriedly, she moved to check to see if any were still alive.

“They’re all dead..” Question said after a quick scan of the area, “This is horrible, they didn’t have a chance without-“ Elara faced him and he stopped. She assumed he didn’t want to scare her anymore with the truth. It didn’t make her feel any better.

“I’m going to see if there’s anything I can salvage to help us. Scan this area to identify them and mark the location for a later date,” Elara stated, “I want to bring these names back with me and allow a return for a proper burial.”

Question nodded and immediately got to work while Elara dug through the few crates they had. She managed to grab a decent amount of rations and some unused ammo clips. She found a functional hand cannon on a male Hunter and SMG on a female Titan, but she didn’t dare shoot them yet out in the open here. She looped them on her belt and turned to watch Question. He was currently hovering over another female Warlock.

“Anyone we know?” Elara questioned.

She was afraid of the answer, but she had to know. Out of everything, she was most terrified of finding a familiar face among them at this moment.

“No. Nothing more than passing names and faces,” Question answered.

That didn’t make her feel any better either.

She looked over the Warlock again and knelt beside her body. Her hand was outstretched towards something. Elara looked to where she was reaching to find a discarded sidearm. She picked it up and placed it firmly in the Warlock’s hand, before resting it over her chest. She hoped it was a nice symbolic gesture of respect, but this stuff was never familiar nor easy for people like her.

Elara looked at her closer. The Warlock’s helmet remained almost untouched, with only minor chipping on a portion of the outside rim of the visor.

“I’m sorry to do this. I didn’t want to disturb anyone here,” Elara said, reaching a hand for it.

She carefully removed the helm to find she was another Awoken. She had short red choppy hair that stood on end and a clear, soft face. What startled Elara the most was that the small waves of light that danced under the Awoken people’s skin were gone from her. Elara removed her own broken helmet and replaced it.

“Goodbye, cousin. Thank you.”

She stood again and turned to Question who was quietly watching.

“Are we all set here?” she asked him.

“Yes. I’ve got everything you asked for.”

“Good. Let’s keep moving.”

They continued on in silence.

EE:// Twilight Gap // 1 week after Tower attack

The two had managed to travel a far distance in the amount of time they’d been on their own. They even managed to hit the mountain ridgelines that afternoon. Elara still had a fair amount of rations carefully saved, but that was about to get more difficult. It was going to take a lot to keep her stamina up. Cabal ships were frequently passing through this area as the days passed, which kept her even more on edge. She told Question to keep scanning for ships they could commandeer as they went.

As she crossed over a crest, she faced a familiar sight. The falcon from days prior was perched off of the rock wall in front of her. It turned its head at the sound of her arrival, let out a cry, and took off further down the mountain.

“Is it following us?” Question said, also noticing it’s presence.

Elara continued down the ridge to the mountain pass where the bird flew. Something was telling her she should follow, but then again she could be going crazy out here. She already respected the Hunters ability to live out here on their own, but now she really understood how easy it was to lose yourself. They’d probably be the only ones that had a chance now..

She pushed that thought to the back of her mind. She had to remain optimistic for herself. If not for her, at least for Question. She had to see him safely through this.

She came across a ledge that led into a large opening of the mountain pass and jumped down. She walked further down and around large clusters of rock. The falcon was gone. She continued looking.

“Evie up ahead!” Question alerted.

She looked up in that moment and saw it. Two Cabal psions were perched overhead, keeping watch over the area. They were alerted to her presence with Question’s voice and took aim at her. She turned and dove to the ground in a flash as the two rifle shots whistled in unison.

Not fast enough..

She felt a knock on the top of her helm and was tossed backwards. Sharp stinging pain erupted from below her right clavicle. She heaved her chest upwards to a sitting position and pushed herself up against the stone she was hidden behind. Looking down, blood was already pouring out of her ruined armored robes.

Shit!

It was the only word running through her head. She managed to dodge lethal blows, but wasn’t fast enough to avoid the bullets completely. The sound of alerted Cabal legionaries and their war dogs arrived immediately after the gunfire.

Elara pressed her left hand firmly over the entry wound, a sharp cry escaping her lips. She looked down again through the pain to find her palm soaked in blood. She pressed down harder before carefully pulling the SMG from her belt and flipping off the safety with her free hand.

“Evie, you’re hit! Let me look at you!” Question cried in front of her.

She turned behind to get a better line of sight. The war dogs' snarls were close.

“No get back!” she yelled at him, firmly nudging him backwards with her gun hand. More pain cried through her shoulder at that protective gesture. She moved to hold her arm steady.

As soon as she saw the first canine turn the corner, she opened fire. Countless followed on either side, all slumping to the ground, but more kept coming. Her heart beat faster in fear, she was going to be swarmed in any moment.

“Elara!” Question urgently yelled. He was serious now, he only ever called her by her real name when he was.

“I said get away! Hide!” Elara yelled in response, while glancing back at him.

He remained hovering behind her shadow. In a flash, she turned to face him. Grabbing him from the air in her bloodied fist, she tossed him into cover in a bramble bush a few feet behind her. She felt a pang of guilt for throwing him in his battered state, but she didn’t want them hurting him.

She turned back around and was immediately thrown to the ground. Teeth and claws ripped at her person. She screamed and released more bullets into the dogs, before the pain unintentionally caused her to lose grip of it. She attempted to claw back over to it, but the dogs began pulling her by the legs in their maws back to their owners. She kicked to try getting them to open their bites, but it only received more.

A large figure shadowed over her. A Legionnaire looked down at her and shooed his last remaining dogs away. Elara quickly grabbed at her hand cannon and fired.

Click. What? Click click. No.. the safety is still on!

The Cabal soldier gave an alienated laugh and swatted her gun aside. He pressed one foot down upon her chest, immediately receiving a wheezing exhale from her. She couldn’t breath. She punched and clawed at him, anything to try to get the weight of the mountain off of her. She only received a slug rifle in her face.

This is it, I’m dead…

She braced for the impact.

Bang!........ Bang!

She looked back up. That wasn’t against her and it was close.

The Cabal was looking in the direction the noise came from as well, his dogs already running off barking away from sight. He moved off of Elara and yelled something in his native tongue into the air. She gave a heavy exhale in relief as she could breathe again.

Pow! The air in the Cabal’s armor hissed and he collapsed to the side, silent and unmoving.

Whoever that was, they were helping her.

She turned over and pushed herself up somewhat to her unsteady feet. The pain in her shoulder and new punctures across her body screamed and her vision grew hazy. She didn’t need to look down at her wounds to know she was on the verge of bleeding out. A few more cracks of gunfire cut the air and the wind grew silent again. She grew dizzy as she scanned around for her tossed weapon and her ghost. She caught sight of her hand cannon, and reached down towards it before falling face first into the dirt. The sound of footsteps approaching alerted her and she turned to face her unexpected savior.

A cloaked figure, bathed in browns and red with multiple glowing eyes was hurrying to her. She blinked to fight the haze in her head. An Eliksni helped her?.. There was no way.

“Question,” she muttered aimlessly in an attempt to call him to her. “Question..”

It didn’t stop coming. She grabbed the gun from where it lay on the ground next to her and aimed after quickly flipping the safety off. She continued trying to call out to her Ghost.

Her arms gave up before her eyes did. She saw their well worn boots before the darkness of unconsciousness swallowed her.

#destiny #destiny 2 #short story #fanfiction

[ivedonestranger]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Teen Titans (Animated Series) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dick Grayson/Raven Characters: Raven (DCU), Robin (DCU), Victor Stone, Garfield Logan, Koriand'r (DCU) Additional Tags: Action/Adventure, Magic, robrae - Freeform, Angst, Humor Series: Part 2 of Candy Series Summary:

Who would have thought a choice could lead to so much pain?

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The sing of the birdarang against metal followed by the explosion was something of a comfort to Robin. For the years he had been fighting in Jump City, his tools and arsenal had become such a staple, he felt naked without them. The billowing smoke from the hole that had cut through the two-story robot was only a dent in what had turned out to be a solid fight.

What was it? Who sent it? Robin had no idea and no interest in finding out at the moment. What was important was the fact it had tramped down main street and put its giant fist through the window of a jewelry store. Jump City Police Department immediately issued a Titan summon while cordoning off the street and clearing civilians.

It had been a good relationship with the police. They handled most crimes and allowed the Titans to patrol but when it came to a meta or something outside of their scope, they called the masked heroes in. The last of the civilians had cleared the street when the robot displayed an impressive missile rack and fired off a few at them. Lucky for Robin, they were unguided and just randomly exploded around him as he dodged out of the way.

"If this is Gizmo, I'm gonna stuff him so far up this robot's ass, he's not gonna get out for a week," Cyborg yelled towards nobody in particular as his sonic cannon rocked against the metallic creature's hide. It stumbled a few steps but continued to stand.

The green star bolts smashed into it as Starfire zipped through, twisted mid-flight and let loose on her powerful eyebeams to the back of the robot's elongated head. It fell forward on to one knee, raised a palm and a brilliant beam of blue energy barely missed his Tamaranian friend.

Robin charged forward, reaching for his belt for the magnetic directional charges while Cyborg covered him. So many years and they did not need to communicate their plan. Funny thing though, this was not the first robot they ever faced. To others, that might seem weird.

The other weird thing was the addition to the team that had become seamless. What she lacked in experience, she had replaced with exuberance. Over to the left supporting Beast Boy was the girl in the frilly pink skirt that came to her knees and the white stockings with bows and the pink mask that covered half her face. She whirled around with a parasol that when opened generated an electrical energy field absorbing damage whilst firing back powerful bolts of lightning.

Pink Phantom had been a loved addition from her girly appearance and the "I'm going to kick your ass with girly clothes" mentality. Robin had a chance to examine Annabeth Connor's gizmos. They were clever electric generators that harnessed her movement to charge themselves and well-balanced battery packs for extra charges. Psycho, as her friends lovingly called her, had sunk a lot of money into playing the hero.

Running between the machine's legs and avoiding its large hand, Robin threw two handfuls of the little bombs towards the joints of the thing. He heard the clink and chirp of it arming followed by the focused blast that cut ribbons through its legs. The robot felt forward and landed on its knees while holding itself up.

The back of it opened up and unleashed a cloud of little bombs that began to explode thick as gnats on spoiled fruit. Robin's mind quickly ran through scenarios and could only hope he could move to one of the severed legs for cover before they got to him. A black energy field surrounded him as Raven landed beside him and the explosions went off harmless around her magic shield.

"Azerath Metrion ZINTHOS!"

The focused power caused the hair on his arms to stand on end as the energy field surrounded three cars and landed squarely on the robot's back. It's head fell forward exposing its neck which Starfire did not hesitate but blast through while Beast Boy in bison form rammed it, causing the headed to bounce away.

The metal hulk laid there quiet and unmoving.

"Booyah!" Cyborg cheered as Beast Boy returned to his usual form and stood beside him. "I think that makes twenty-three robots in my career."

Robin turned to Raven with a grin and he saw her eyes smiling back at him.

"Could you move the wreckage out of the way, sweetheart, so the police can get the cleaning crews in here?" he asked running his hand along her arm.

She raised her hand and the black energy surrounded the form but to his surprise, a pink energy bolt shot around the black sphere with a snap and hiss. Raven cried out falling back as the spark exploded in a shower of rose-colored sparks. As Raven fell backward, Robin caught her and saw her eyes. If he didn't know it was Raven he would have been shocked at the pink cat-like slits looking back. They quickly faded to her lovely amethyst ones.

"Raven, what's going on?" Robin asked trying to help her up. She pushed him away.

"Nothing. I'm just recovering," she said.

"Rachel, your eyes changed. They were...they were Jinx's."

"I know."

She wouldn't turn towards him and her hood had been pulled tighter over her head.

"Raven-"

"I'm fine, Richard. I'm just healing. There are going to be some problems."

Pink Phantom alighted by her drifting down from her perch by parasol before folding it up and putting it over her shoulder.

"Yay! My first robot!" she squealed.

"Don't get cocky," Cyborg chided with fatherly advice. "This was one of the easier ones."

Cyborg had taken the girl under his wing, having upgraded a lot of her systems. The little blouse and skirt now had nanotechnology and its own operating system that allowed her to monitor the status not to mention pleating the skirt with ablative armor thread.

"We need to get this clear so the police can reopen the street. We need samples too so we can find out where this bot came from," Robin said. He turned to look for Raven but she had disappeared.

Instinctively he wanted to go look for her but held himself back. She was a grown woman and he was only her boyfriend. He wanted to protect her, to drag her to the softness of their bed's comforters but Raven was not the type to be coddled. She loved the snuggle but the girl had fought for a place on her own and would not give it up.

Instead, he turned himself back to the problem at hand. The giant pile of robot guts that now seemed to be leaking hydraulic fluid.

'God, it's going to get all in my uniform.'

Raven had opened a portal to nowhere in particular and found herself upon the top of a building. A quick look around showed her that she had actually teleported herself back to the first building that she got a glimpse of Jinx only two weeks before. She had staked out the place for a few nights but never saw her again and this man she was talking to had no criminal record and actually ran a bookshop downtown.

Robin made it clear that there was no evidence to proceed in an investigation and it was dropped. A stray thought had brought her here. It was quiet and so she sat down.

Raven had told Robin she was fine and that she needed to heal. She desperately wanted to believe it but something inside her felt wrong. Like an itch or something in her body that was not quite synced up. It was an ache in the back of the mind that would not go away. What was happening to her?

Richard wanted to go to the Justice League and speak with Zatanna or Constantine, ostensibly because of their experience with demons and other extra-dimensional creatures, but she had made that a firm no. The Justice League did not come to rescue her when her father wanted to destroy the universe, she wasn't going to them for help.

"Penny for your thoughts...or a dollar for your panties."

The voice felt like silk against her ears and a low flush touched her gray cheeks. The voice was behind her but Raven knew who it was.

"It's hard to get panties off in this leotard, Jinx," Raven scoffed in irritation.

"I can help if ya want,"

Raven turned to fully face the woman of her dreams and nightmares. Jinx looked and dressed the same as she always did, the dark dress with little cape, the black choker, purple striped leggings and thick-soled shoes for fighting. The clothing hugged her svelte figure perfectly while her hair sloped upwards in their trademark horseshoe homage.

"You're back in town I see," Raven said cooly watching her. Jinx had made no move from the corner of the building near the hatch to the top. She seemed at ease and not ready to fight.

"You know, stuff."

"Planning some criminal activity with that, el-sahid guy?" Raven asked keeping her voice hard. Jinx might have been on their side at one point but she was not going to assume the teams had not changed again.

"Ibraham?" Jinx asked with a surprised expression then broke into a grin. "Oh, no. No plans with that guy."

Raven was about to open her mouth to accuse her of lying when she felt the pressure start in the small of her back and cause her to arch and fall forward. There was a crackle as the pink energy found its way out and danced across her cloak. Raven began falling forward but was immediately engulfed in the blueberry scented arms of the other woman.

"Oh, no! I should have realized," Jinx said cooing as she gently settled on the ground holding Raven. Raven wanted to kick away but the spiking in her back and legs had not stopped, the electrical currents dancing underneath her skin.

"What...what did you do to me?"

"It's a side effect, sweetie. You didn't show signs of it while we were in Gotham so I didn't think it had happened."

"What...happened!" Raven growled trying to control the twitching of her lower body.

"When I brought you back to life. I used my own soul to charge the remains of yours and then used Psycho's energy to strain it. The straining wasn't pure."

"Meaning?"

"Some of my energy and merged with yours, sweetie. There is chaos in you now."

That made sense. Raven had read treatises on energy swapping of souls but most of it had been in necromancer books and things she would not have done.

"Get it out of me."

"I can't. It's part of your soul now, Raven." Jinx said running her hand softly through the girl's hair. Raven could hear the honest and caring tone in her voice.

"What?" Raven asked the shock showing on her face.

"It's part of you. It's not going away."

Raven stared at her in stunned silence.

"It's….it's interfering with my work, Jinx."

"Sorry, girl. It wasn't like I could advise you of the risks. You were dead."

Raven understood that but she was not letting the pinkette off the hook.

"You need to fix this. You screwed me up, you need to put me back together, like the way I was. When I was useful."

Jinx's eyes were soft and gentle as she helped Raven stand back up, the spiking having faded.

"I think you should speak with Ibraham, Raven."

"Why should I speak to your criminal friend, Jinx?" Raven spat brushing herself off and letting the anger fester under her emotions.

"He's my counselor."

"What?"

"He's kind of a special counselor for unique and gifted people. The HIVE uses him for traumatic stress or trying to find a way to adjust a student to the life." Jinx said sitting down on the ground and patting the dirt beside her. Raven slowly came over but sat down in front of her and out of arm's reach.

"So, a bad guy?"

"A neutral. He's more interested in making us into better versions of ourselves or just coping with what we are. He likes helping kids who learn of their powers and helping them find a way. That's either towards the Justice League and hero work or towards the HIVE for money and fun."

"And you're seeing him because…."

Jinx reached into her pocket and Raven tensed for the fight. Instead, the pinkette pulled out a white card with silver numbers on it and handed to her.

"You should talk to him. Tell him I sent you and tell him your suffering from soul dysplasia."

"He can fix me?"

"No, sweetie but he can help you cope with your new situation," Jinx said gently. She reached and touched Raven on the cheek but the sorceress pulled away hurling the card away from her.

"Go away, Jinx."

The woman did not argue. She gave one small smile and quickly left the way she came. Raven glared at the card laying on the ground trying to understand what she was told. Jinx said she was broken and useless, her powers to be forever interfered with by the bits of chaos floating inside. Raven was now a liability and a hazard to the team. How was Robin going to take all this?

Raven turned and marched away to fly back to the tower but stopped. Quickly scooping up the card with a shadow tendril, she glided away to the gleaming T in the distance.

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If you liked it, please leave a review at your favorite fanfic archive! 

FF.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13299019/3/Raven-s-Wish AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19022185/chapters/48063886

#teen titans #teen titans raven #robrae #raven #jinx #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #ivedonestranger fanfic

[acediian]

—𝓉𝑜𝓋𝒶𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓃'𝓈 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝑔𝒾𝒻𝓉 (𝒾.)

thanos x original character fanfiction  |  pre-infinity war  |  1.7k words +

Millennia ago, the ancient planet Tovarion was gifted an Infinity Stone with the intent to keep it hidden. But like all great secrets, its whereabouts are ultimately uncovered by the Mad Titan, who comes to claim his prize from the secluded society. When he demands the planet's loyalty in exchange for sparing the lives of its people, the crown princess offers her own hand in marriage as a means of facilitating an alliance and protecting her people.

The blue and silver flags that lined the palace facade lapped against the swift breeze that had fallen over the imperial city. The guards that passed by them gave no second thought, however, as they marched past towering columns and out onto the veranda that flanked the palace doors. Some muttered words of shock and awe while others called upon the grace of their gods to offer them protection.

As ancient as Tovarion was, the planet and her people prided themselves on their cloistered society. Many of those who had lived for millennia had never set eyes on an offworlder. To venture beyond their world was an act reserved only for warriors and royals. The people of Tovarian were content to live peaceful lives, and the only thought of adventure came when considering journeys to the summits of the planet’s towering mountains or rides across its vast, silver-flecked plains.

It was no surprise, then, that on this day, clusters of Tovari had gathered in the city square to behold the enormous, ring-like ship that hovered not far above their heads. Their over robes lapping at their ankles, they passed thoughts and conjectures between themselves in hushed tones. Visitors from other worlds were a rare sight, indeed. Many of Tovarion’s younger citizens had seen no more than streaks of light as spacecrafts passed just outside of the planet’s atmosphere or, on the extraordinary occasion, the outline of a great ship as it flew by.

It was how the Tovari had endured for as long as they had.

Thousands upon thousands of generations had lived across millions of years. In their seclusion, they had achieved almost mythical status among the stars. Some believed that they must be gods while others had come to deny their very existence. The Tovari, of course, scoffed at hearing such rumors from the few that did venture beyond their world. Simply put, theirs was a culture that had thrived by being left well enough alone. If a matter was not their own, then there was no sense in bothering at all.

But there was simply no ignoring the “matter” that floated, stagnant, above the capital city on this particular clear, warm afternoon. The small group of Tovari gathered in the square quickly turned into a sea of dark-haired individuals, all stood aghast as royal cavalry ships whizzed towards the royal palace. The few lucky enough to stand at the front of the crowd could just make out two figures, one tall and thin and the other broader and even taller, being escorted by guards up the vast flight of stairs that led to the monumental palace doors.

A hush had already fallen on the usually lively palace, its high ceilings echoing naught but the sound of footsteps and the clanking of metal armor. The smaller of the two visitors, a skulking creature, stepped lightly, confidently, with long fingers steepled before his torso. There was no trepidation in the smirking gaze he cast to the nobles that they passed, no fear of the guards that attended them. His was an almost holy mission, one whose outcome he was all but certain of.

The look on the being’s face did not fade even as the doors to the throne room swung open before them, revealing Tovarion’s ruler as she sat waiting for her unexpected guests. She was unmistakable, an indomitable figure with raven-black hair, clad in silver and perched upon an ornate throne. On either side of her, colossal stone effigies of his planet’s four deities stood watching, protecting.

Queen Aredhyn had governed her people with a kind heart and open palms for millennia. Her dealings in intergalactic affairs (however few and far between as they had been) had been decidedly more withdrawn. Diplomacy was only practiced in such a way that ensured the protection of her people, their planet, and their way of life.

And so Aredhyn regarded the two foreigners sternly from her throne, piercing pale grey eyes staring down the bridge of her long, thin nose. She did not know their faces, but knew well enough by their harsh appearance and the theatrics of their descent onto Tovarion that they were not harbingers of fair and peaceful tidings.

The smaller of the two visitors stepped forward a single pace. As the guards moved to draw their weapons, he stopped and, with a great flourish, bowed deeply before the queen.

“Oh, noble and most benevolent Queen Aredhyn, I stand before you as herald to the Great Titan, who sends his sincerest regards to your majesty and to the people of Tovarion.” As he glanced up, he noticed the flash of recognition pass over the queen’s face, her dark brow furrowing for but an instant.

“And what is it that he wants? He did not send you all this way to simply send his regards.”

The creature’s thin lips pulled up into a half smile. “He would like to offer a chance at salvation to you and your people. The opportunity to--”

“By ‘salvation’ you mean ruin and death,” the queen interrupted, her own expression curling into a tight frown. “Do not think I am not aware of whom you speak, and what havoc he has wrought on the Universe. The only ‘salvation’ my people need is that which is bestowed upon them by our gods.”

“Naturally,” the visitor cooed, offering another bow of his head. “But, I must correct you, your highness. It is not havoc -- nay -- it is… order. Balance.”

Aredhyn drew in a long breath as she shifted on her throne. Her gaze hardened, jaw clenched tight beneath a pale complexion almost the hue of the silver in which her planet was so abundant. “Tovarion does not need balancing.”

“All life does, your highness.” The visitor made a sweeping gesture, opening his arms with his palms. It was his greatest honor to assist his father with such a monumental task, a requisite for life itself to continue. What a righteous destiny it was. “And yet… I am sure you understand that, were it his aim to balance your planet, he would not have dispatched me to seek an audience with you first.”

The queen took no enjoyment in being toyed with. In a swift motion, she rose from her throne and closed the distance between her and the visitor. Her scowl met the creature’s noseless visage. “What is it that your master wants?” she hissed.

The visitor met the queen’s quiet fury with a composed, haughty grin. “Tovarion’s greatest gift. Its endowment from Asgard -- passed in secret to your forebears from the hands of King Buri himself.”

Silence passed between the two beings for what seemed like an age, the queen breathless under the immense weight of the words that still rung in her ears. The anger in her eyes fell away like leaves blown in the wind. There was not a Tovari alive today besides she that knew of this. An Infinity Stone, a hidden thing, the knowledge of which had come to her through her mother and her mother before her. Tovarion had been the home of the artifact for millennia, kept under the protection of the royal family.

“Odeiovarion,” Aredhyn breathed, a quiet appeal to her gods in her mother tongue. “How does he know of this?” Her slow, calculated tone belied the tumultuous storm that raged beneath the surface. It was almost a whisper, punctuated only by the pounding of her own heart.

“Have you any idea how long he has sought the stones?” the creature jeered. “He has his ways of obtaining information. It was only a matter of time, your highness. But rejoice, for Tovarion can now fulfill its greatest purpose. Its destiny.”

“Its destiny…” the queen echoed. With a short breath, she turned away from the foreigner to once again face her throne. What else could she do? Send word to Odin? Even Asgard could not help protect Tovarion from the madman and his hordes should they withhold the item he sought.

The visitor continued. “I understand how deeply you value the lives of your people. To give him what he wants is to ensure their protection. To deny him would all but mean the ruin of your civilization.”

Aredhyn raised a single eyebrow, lips parting and closing within mere seconds of one another. Her silence spoke volumes to the foreigner, whose hands were once again clasped before his chest. The prophet, having shared his holy message, could only smile even as the queen’s back remained turned to him.

“Why send you first? Why not simply ravage our planet, slaughter my people, and claim the artifact as his own?” Of all the thoughts that flooded the queen’s head, this was the one she mused aloud.

“The Great Titan is generous. Tovarion is one of the very oldest planets in existence… what a shame it would be to see her suffer when her queen can so easily guarantee her safety.”

“How generous, indeed.”

“He will also ask for your loyalty to his cause.” The creature chuckled. “A small price to pay to secure a happy life for your people.”

This final request sent a jolt through the queen’s body. As she whipped around, dark tresses fell into her face and framed the intense furor in her gaze. “Tovarion will not turn her back on her allies in favor of a madman. This I cannot do.”

Her glare was met with an equivalent frown from the visitor, who drew in a deep breath. “That is disappointing.”

“We can offer anything else to him. Tovari silver for armor. Space crafts…” Aredhyn’s voice trailed off as she delved deeper into her thoughts. Fingers clenching and fiddling idly with themselves, she paced before the creature. “I… must speak with my Council. Weigh our options…” But what options truly lay before her? Succumb or suffer. The choice was already made on her behalf.

“Then I should urge you to decide forthwith, Queen Aredhyn.” The creature’s words dripped with a malice that wilted some of the queen’s resolve. This was no idle threat. Tovarion’s fate would be decided in the days to come. “You shall come face-to-face with the Great Titan and his forces in two days. Think well on his terms.”

#thanos #thanos x oc #thanos x original character #original character #marvel #marvel imagine #thanos imagine #marvel fic #thanos fic #mcu #f: tovarion

[psychosistr]

Friendly Four Verse- Meetings Part 1: Megavolt & Quackerjack

Summary: The Negaverse- a world where the city of Saint Canard is ruled by the villainous Negaduck. In this city overrun with crime and corruption, a group of heroes come together to fight back against injustice. The first to meet are the city’s long-time protector, Megavolt, and a particularly colorful clown named Quackerjack.

Notes: So, I FINALLY finished the first few parts of my Friendly Four stories! Before going into it, I’d recommend checking out one of my previous posts talking about my Friendly Four designs and backstories, just so you can get a better idea of what they look like. Hope you guys enjoy it!

The first one that Megavolt found was Quackerjack. Or, rather, Quackerjack found HIM.

It was another long night of patrol for Saint Canard’s lone protector, Megavolt. The city was large and teeming with crime thanks to the town’s influential dictator- Negaduck. The task of protecting a city so massive, and so rampant with crime, was indeed daunting, but the lightning-bolt themed and purple-clad hero was more than prepared to do what had to be done for the hope of a brighter future!

As he used his electrical powers and a touch of magnetism to his steel-toed/soled boots to glide along the city’s many sparking electrical wires, Megavolt heard the terrified screams of a woman nearby.

“HELP! Please, someone! HELP!” The woman cried in terror, the cries followed by a deafening roar.

Megavolt rushed towards the sound, jumping from wire to wire to cut down on his time. “HOLD ON!!!”

When he arrived, he found a female duck and her two children being backed up against a chain-link fence in an alleyway by a tall, spiky, hulking being that was covered in shadows. Out of fear, one of the children threw their lit flashlight at the beast and screamed.

The light source hit the behemoth then bounced off of a grey stomach. When the flashlight rolled across the ground, its light shined on the monster to reveal it in its entirety:

It was a massive dinosaur-like creature with armored plates on its skin and spikes growing all down its back. Its tail had a large stone-like tip that flicked about in irritation, smashing anything it touched. Around it’s pointy-beaked face, it had more spikes that grew out from four separate points to make it look even more intimidating- its shaggy red hair, scarred-eye, and torn black pants doing nothing to help dissuade the initial feelings its body gave any onlookers.

It let out an angered snarl when the light shined on its face and shielded itself by placing its hands over its eyes. “Ow! Stupid light!” It growled and stomped on the flashlight with one of its massive feet, crushing the device with ease. “I warned you to quit shining that stupid thing at me!” He (from the voice, it appeared to be a male) snarled as he advanced on the frightened family.

Wasting no time, Megavolt magnetized his shoes to the metal gutter-pipe of the nearby building and slid down to land between the family and the dinosaur. “Stop right there, evil doer!”

The woman gasped in surprise and relief. “Megavolt!” The kids cheered his name as well, looking up at him with relief in their tear-filled eyes.

Megavolt faced the monster while standing in front of them, hands sparking in preparation for the impending battle. “Don’t worry, citizens- I’ll deal with this disrespectful dino!” At his cue, the citizens ran away, the dinosaur now much more focused on him than the weak commoners.

“Megavolt, huh?” The dinosaur sneered down at him, stepping closer to show how he towered over the smaller rat. “What’re you gonna do? Shock me? Go on, I dare ya!”

“Alright, if you insist!” Megavolt charged a blast of electricity to his fingertip and fired it right at the monster’s chest. To his shock and horror, though, the attack did absolutely nothing. “What?!”

The dinosaur smirked at him and cracked his knuckles. “Guess you haven’t heard of me, huh? The name’s Shamutt.” He reeled his fist back in preparation for a punch. “And if there’s one thing I hate more than light, it’s stupid noisy heroes!” His fist flew forward and hit Megavolt right in the chest, sending him flying.

Megavolt nearly crashed into the wall, but was saved thanks to his still slightly magnetized shoes dragging him off course towards the metal fence that the family from earlier had previously been cornered against. Shaking the dizziness off from the blow, Megavolt found he wasn’t given much time to recover before the Jurassic jerk was closing in for another attack, this time with his hammer-like tail.

Thinking quickly, Megavolt used his magnetized shoes to run vertically up the fence, perched briefly at the top, then grasped the metal fence posts and channeled a healthy dose of electricity into the fence. He jumped from the fence onto the metal gutter-pipe he’d slid down earlier at the last possible second, resulting in the dinosaur’s mighty tail striking the fence and becoming wrapped up and pierced by the electrified metal.

Shamutt let out a pained roar, the electricity apparently having a stronger effect now that it was hitting a weaker area. By the time he’d managed to free his tail from the fence, the giant was looking dizzy.

Megavolt decided to follow up his attack and stay on the offensive. To do so, he gripped the gutter-pipe tightly and pressed off from the wall with his feet until it broke loose from its rusted restraints. He charged his electricity into the metal and angled his fall so that the pipe would land on Shamutt’s head.

The attack nearly worked, but Shamutt turned and slammed his freed tail into the rat and the pipe. Thankfully, having the pipe in the way cushioned some of what would have otherwise been a fatal blow.

The resulting collision sent Megavolt sprawling out into the street past the mouth of the alleyway. He was about to get up, when a shadow loomed over him menacingly. He looked up just in time to see Shamutt’s tail swinging down towards him and rolled out of the way.

Unfortunately, this resulted in him rolling against the side of a parked car and, effectively, trapping him in place. “!!”

Shamutt walked up to him with an evil grin and raised his foot, preparing to stomp on him. “Nighty night, Mr.Hero!”

Before he could follow through on the action, however, a new voice cut itself into the conversation. “ ‘Nighty night’? What are you talking about, big guy? It’s not bedtime!” Both Shamutt and Megavolt were surprised when a small cluster of marbles were thrown at Shamutt’s face. The marbles exploded on impact, sending the titan off-balance. As a follow-up, Megavolt saw something colorful suddenly slam into the dinosaur, sending him flying. “It’s PLAAAYYYYTIIIIME!!”

Shamutt was sent tumbling across the sidewalk before turning over onto his knees so he could look at what just hit him with an angry snarl. “Alright, what’s the big idea?!”

Shamutt and Megavolt saw a duck in a VERY colorful clown-like costume wielding what, at first, appeared to be a metal baseball bat painted in a tessellation of diamonds that matched the duck’s color scheme. Upon closer inspection from his angle, though, Megavolt could see three large holes on the back of the bat and could smell smoke, hinting that maybe the bat had a little more firepower hidden within.

“The ‘big idea’,” The clown-themed duck began while spinning the bat around in a wide circle. “Is that the game you were playing looked kind of unfair. So,” He tossed the bat in the air briefly, making it spin in shiny, eye-catching circles that made the colors look mesmerizing when the streetlights reflected off of the metallic surface. “I thought I’d come and even things out!” While the dinosaur was distracted by the flashy display, the duck held out a hand to help Megavolt to his feet. “Whattaya say, Sparky?”

Megavolt grinned and took the offered hand, pulling himself to his feet. “Sounds good to me.” He charged electricity down to his hands once the duck let go, feeling far more confident now that he had backup. “But don’t call me Sparky- the name’s Megavolt!”

“Heh, alright, Megavolt.” Without even looking, the clown caught the bat perfectly in his hand when it fell back towards him. “Call me Quackerjack!”

Then, as if they both heard a starting-gun go off, they leapt into action together- running at Shamutt at the same time.

Quackerjack pressed down on the heart-shaped pin located on the bat’s handle and it made a sound like a car engine starting up. With a loud rev, the holes on the back of the bat suddenly ignited and Megavolt now understood what they were:

They were rockets.

Flames shot out of the holes and Quackerjack used the added momentum to smash the bat into Shamutt’s tail when the dinosaur-like villain tried to hit them with it. The extra force allowed him to successfully counter the lethally strong appendage and throw the giant reptile off-balance again.

Megavolt followed his new companion’s attack with one of his own, shooting a charged blast of electricity right at the already off-kilter titan’s eyes. The energy was bright and flashy, but Megavolt still held back to avoid causing permanent damage. With any luck, the attack would-

“AAAAAH!” Shamutt screamed in pain when the blast blinded him. “My eyes!” He began rubbing roughly at his stinging eyes to clear his vision. “When I get my hands on you little twerps, I’ll crush you like the tiny bugs you are!”

“We may be kind of small.” He heard Megavolt say as his vision slowly came back to him. “But, you know what they say: The bigger they are-” Shamutt’s vision cleared just in time for him to see Megavolt touching his charged hand to Quackerjack’s bat.

“The harder they fall!” Quackerjack finished the quote for him and activated the bat’s rockets while running at Shamutt. He spun around on the last step before taking a flying leap and smashing the charged bat into the giant lizard’s head.

The combined force and momentum of the metal bat, together with the electrical charge coursing through the metal, made for an extremely effective improvised stun-baton.

“!!!” The blow connected and Shamutt’s eyes rolled back into his head as he was properly knocked out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About half an hour later, onlookers were gathered around the street to see the spectacle that was a giant Jurassic mutant tied upside down to the side of a building by a series of magnetized pipes and already-broken street lamps with a small cluster of moving wind-up teeth jumping and chomping at his head every time he struggled to break free of his bindings.

The cherry on top was the brightly painted sign above him in a rainbow of letters that read “THIS DINO’S CRIME-SPREE JUST WENT THE WAY OF THE DODO! –COURTESY OF YOUR FRIENDLY LOCAL HEROES, THE DYNAMIC DUO MEGAVOLT & QUACKERJACK”

The heroes in question watched the scene unfold while sitting on the edge of a rooftop down the block with their legs hanging over the edge.

“I really owe you one.” Megavolt said while smiling at Quackerjack. “If you didn’t come along when you did, I’d be the one going extinct right now!”

Quackerjack chuckled at the obvious joke, clearly amused by the rat’s sense of humor. “Eh, don’t mention it. There aren’t that many heroes in this town- we’ve gotta stick together!”

Megavolt let out a long-suffering sigh and collapsed back against the cool roof-top beneath him. “You’re telling me! I’ve been doing this on my own since I was SEVENTEEN! Do you have ANY idea how tiring that gets?!”

“Seventeen?!” Quackerjack’s large beak fell open in disbelief when he heard the number. “Geez, I’ve only been at this for a year and I’m already exhausted! How the heck are you still alive?!”

“Heck if I know..” Megavolt pulled himself back up, reaching behind himself to straighten his slightly rumpled cape. “Still, it was nice to have some help for a change..and we did make a pretty electrifying team..” He looked at Quackerjack with a hopeful but slightly anxious smile, holding out one hand in invitation. “What would you say about going from a solo act to a duet?”

Quackerjack looked at him with a huge grin that practically split his face. “I’d say,” He took the offered hand, and everything it stood for, and grasped it with a level of enthusiasm that was nearly contagious. “You’ve got yourself a new partner in crime-fighting, Sparky!”

“Don’t call me Sparky.” Megavolt corrected the other’s nickname for him, but the smile on his face and the joy in his heart did not falter for even a moment.

Next Chapter->

End Notes: The first chapter is short and sweet just because I always felt like these two would have the easiest chemistry. The next chapter with Bushroot will be longer and have each of the three revealing their backstories!

Also, for anyone who was curious or didn’t get it, yes, Shamutt is Stegmutt- I decided to change his dinosaur from a stegosaurus to a shamosaurus (you can scroll towards the bottom of the page if you just want picture references). They’re within the same dino-family, but I felt like the shamosaurus looked dark and intimidating enough to fit in with the villainous theme of the Negaverse.

#negaverse #friendly four #megavolt #quackerjack #quackervolt #nega-megavolt #nega-quackerjack #stegmutt #nega-stegmutt #shamutt

[roxywashere]

Holding Out for a Hero

A young goddess gets wrapped up in another pantheon’s war

A young woman confidently strode into a small village at the base of a mountain range, wearing a golden breastplate with a shield, cape, and sword hanging on her back. A cool sea breeze was blowing in from the east, driving off the heat of the summer sun.

She smiled cheerfully as she walked past a farmhouse, with the shepherd sitting in front of it. His wife and daughter were crouching behind the windowsill, watching her suspiciously. That motif repeated several times as the woman neared the village’s central square.

When she reached the square, she found a squadron of red-armored soldiers, all standing easily a full head taller than the villagers. They were relaxing under an awning, where the villagers were giving them a wide berth.

The woman approached them. "You look to be in charge here," she remarked, drawing herself up to match them in height. "What is this place called?"

"Who are you to be asking us such questions?"

“You can call me Diana. Now, I won't ask again.”

"Don't you know who we are?"

"I'm quite proud to say no, if only because it appears to be irritating you."

The tallest of the 5 soldiers reached up and removed his helm, revealing a bald head and a single large eye perched above his nose. “The name is Brontes. I answer directly to Zeus.”

“Directly to Zeus? What’re you doing out here in the middle of nowhere, then?”

“You’re pretty thick for a human. What do you think that mountain right there is?”

Diana turned and examined the mountain, and saw its peak shrouded by clouds. “Hmmm. I take it that this mountain is special or something?”

“That’s Olympos, you idiot.”

“Oh! That sounds like where I need to go!”

“Go ahead, but I’ll warn you, if you just walk up to the gates they’ll kill you on sight.”

“That’s rude. Why?”

“You’re not from around here, are you? They gotta be careful. The gods are at war.”

“Why wasn’t I invited, then? I swear, they never tell us anything.”

“You aren’t no god.”

"You wouldn't know a real God if they stabbed you through the kidney." Diana then immediately began walking towards the mountain.

“Hey! Stop!”

“Stop me yourself.”

Brontes crouched down and leapt, landing in front of Diana. He clenched his fist, and a rod of crackling lightning grew from his palm. “I said stop!”

Diana continued walking, not even changing her trajectory to make to go around him. As she approached him, Brontes reeled back the thunderbolt and flung it at her. 

Diana ducked to the side, and the thunderbolt flew past her. She then reached to the sword on her back and drew it, and lunged forward at Brontes, ramming the sword through his lower torso.

“Do you know me yet?” Diana asked. She carefully pulled the sword out of him, and the blade sizzled as it dried itself of blood. Diana held out her hand, which started glowing, and projecting light upon Brontes’ doubled-over form. The hole ventilating his kidney quickly healed over. “Stay out of my way,” she warned.

Brontes slumped to the ground, holding his side still even though the pain had passed. He remained there as he watched Diana continue onwards to the peak of Mount Olympos, even as the other soldiers checked him for wounds. 

“What are we going to do about her?” one of them asked.

“Let her go. She’s the Olympians’ problem now.”

Diana kept walking until she reached the base of the cloud layer shrouding the mountain’s peak. She lifted the sword above her head, and whispered to it: “Shine."

The sword slowly began to glow, increasing in intensity steadily, until it began to burn the air around it and shot a beacon straight in-line with the blade, cutting through the mist and revealing the blue sky above.

It also revealed the massive palace that crowned the mountain, constructed out of marble and gold and designed in a hybrid of the Hellenic style and the even older Minoan and Mycenaean styles.  

Standing in front of the only door through the wall surrounding the palace was a tall man wearing only a helmet and a red cloth around his waist, wielding a spear. He looked quite startled to suddenly be confronted by a stranger with a glowing sword who had destroyed the magical veil concealing his home. 

“Stop! Explain yourself!” He yelled, running towards Diana with his spear held forward. “No mortal is allowed to step foot in Olympos.”

“If you’re not a mortal, you must be Ares, then.” Diana hypothesised. “Take me to Zeus. I demand an audience.”

“You will get no such thing. Leave, mortal!”

“You’re quite presumptuous. How do I prove my godhood to you?”

Ares responded by lunging at Diana and ramming his spear into her neck.

Diana was nonplussed. She slowly reached up and pulled the spear out, and the wound was healed almost as soon as she did. “Anything else? Or does that suffice?”

Ares, confused, stood down. “I... suppose so.”

Ares led Diana through the door and into the palace, most of which was open to the air, except for the rotunda which sat upon the exact peak of the mountain. At no point did Diana see another person inhabiting the massive compound, until Ares led her into the rotunda. 

Despite the rotunda being relatively small and covered by a roof, the inside was massive, lined with columns, and open to the sky above, though it was a different sky than the one outside. It was glittering with stars even in the daylight, from horizon to horizon.

It reminded Diana of home, giving her a rare pang of nostalgia for a place long lost to her.

In the center of the rotunda was a circle of thrones, twelve in all, all but two of which were occupied. The council of gods was bickering about something to do with countering discontent in the ranks of their mortal soldiers, but they all fell silent as they saw Ares approach. 

Zeus, with short hair and beard of a bright white, carrying a scepter passively crackling with lightning. Sitting in order clockwise from him were:

Poseidon, with long silver hair and beard, wielding a trident.

Athena, a comely woman dark of hair, with an owl perched upon her shoulder.

Hephaestus, stout and homely compared to the ethereal figures surrounding him, but the most obviously muscled of the group. A wheelchair sat next to his throne.

Aphrodite, the infamous beauty, the oldest of the council of gods but the most youthful.

Demeter, with earthen brown hair and lusch green eyes.

Hermes, with tanned skin and short-cropped hair, wearing his winged sandals.

The two empty thrones, one engraved with a familiar sun symbol and the other with a crescent moon. 

Dionysus, dressed in a toga dyed dark violet to help hide the wine stains. 

Hestia, with bright green eyes and vibrant orange hair.

And finally, at Zeus's right hand, his queen Hera, wearing a stern frown but with gentle eyes and wavy hair, both a light brown.

“Ho!” said Poseidon, the first to spot Diana behind Ares..

“Rude,” Diana replied.

“What is the meaning of this intrusion?” asked Zeus.

Diana stepped into the center of the circle. “I am a god from far away. I have traveled to this land seeking knowledge.”

“You could not have chosen a less opportune time, stranger,” said Athena. “We are occupied by discussions of war.”

“War with whom?”

���My father, and his siblings,” Zeus explained. “The Titans. Their reign over the earth must come to an end.”

“This... doesn’t quite line up with the story I know,” Diana noted.

“What do you mean?” Hera demanded.

“I have met with prophets who have told me... prophecies of the fate of this land, and while the general facts are accurate the details of the sequence of events are very different. Now I doubt the prophecies were accurate at all.”

Athena gave Diana a look, and then exchanged other looks with Hestia and Hephaestus. She whispered something in her owl Noctua’s ear, and he flew off, flying through the door Ares had led Diana in through.

“I think it would be best if we discussed this less pressing issue after the war council,” Athena announced. “Ares, take her to my chambers.”

Ares led Diana through the compound to one of the more secluded buildings, one with an observatory of almost industrial design upon its roof.

Ares left Diana in a spacious greenhouse with proper glass windows and an abundance of perches for Noctua, who was nowhere to be seen. The wall joining the greenhouse to the rest of the house was just a line of pillars.

A shape of smoke lurched out of the shadow between the columns, coalescing into a helmet of black metal and then a dark-skinned man in black robes. "You seek the truth, interloper?"

"I am Truth. I seek completeness."

"Then let me lead you to the place you truly belong." The stranger held out his hand, and Diana took it. When she did, a shadow wound around her arm and pulled her into a place of darkness, the same shape as the place she had been before but stripped of all light except a dull, ambient orange glow in the air. “Hold on tight. If you let go we’ll be discovered.”

“What is this place?” Diana asked.

“It is the Darkness. We can’t be seen here by anything, and it can only be reached with this,” he said, tapping the side of his helm.

“The Helm of Darkness...” Diana recognised the item. “You’re Hades.” 

"For a stranger to these lands, you know quite a lot about us."

"I know many things."

“And yet there is more for you to learn.” Hades led her down into the depths of the palace of Olympos, remaining in the Darkness the whole time, until they reached a glowing door, the only thing Diana had seen in the Darkness that produced any light.

“Welcome to my domain,” Hades said as he pressed his hand against the door, which ignited with light and inverted the Darkness, causing it to become light all around them. When the light faded, they were on the top of a hill with a lone doorframe, looking out over a sunny but barren desert 

“It’s dreary, I know, but it’s home,” Hades apologized. 

“It reminds me of my own home.” 

Hades led Diana through the desert to an oasis, passing hordes of wandering listless shades on the way. Next to the oasis was a two-story house, with a tan-skinned woman tending her garden. 

Persephone waved as she saw her husband approaching. “A guest? If I had known I would have cleaned up.”

“Athena called a meeting of the Astron Society. Prepare for the others.”

Persephone straightened her back and dropped her trowel, and rushed inside the house.

“Isn’t it summer?” Diana inquired. “I thought she lived here over the winters.”

“Yet another of the details of our lives that mismatch what you were told,” Hades answered. “We are an outlier of the average story, this I can confirm with you.”

“You know of the metanarrative?”

“Our native prophets have espoused many of the main points of it, yes. Leto knows the finer details, she will be able to tell you more.”

“Where can I find her?”

Hades looked out at the desert surrounding his house, and pointed out at a figure approaching over the sand. “She is coming to us.”

Diana saw the figure, draped in a shawl to protect her from the sun, slowly treading across the sand. She was one of the most beautiful women Diana had yet met.

Diana then saw 5 others also approaching. From the direction Hades and Diana had come from came Athena and Hestia wheeling Hephaestus in his wheelchair, and from another came two strangers Diana couldn’t easily identify, wearing quite ornate armor. Each of them was wearing a glowing crown, which created a halo around their head.

“Helios and Theia, the other discontents among the Titans’ ranks,” Hades explained.

As the Olympians approached the house, Athena marched directly towards Diana. “Stranger, let me see your shield.”

Diana reached back to the shield hanging off her back, and handed it to Athena. 

Athena examined the convex disc of black, silver, and gold with awe, and whispered: “ ‘And among them went bright-eyed Athena, holding the precious Aegis which is ageless and immortal.’ Where did you get this shield?”

“I have been carrying it for millenia, passed on to me from one of my allies who carried it far longer.”

Athena handed Diana her shield, and then held her hand out, beckoning something from far off. After a few short seconds a golden shape zipped over the horizon and flew onto Athena’s arm, slamming into place with her arm through the handholds. 

Athena held her shield out in front of her, and Diana saw that it was exactly, perfectly, identical to her own. 

“Aegis... how did you...” Diana was quite rarely ever confused, so the feeling she felt now unsettled her.

“My Aegis was bequeathed to me by the smith who trained Hephaestus.” 

“Were they a short woman, with white hair and brilliant green eyes?”

“In fact they were. Our fates our bound together, stranger. What is your name?”

“My creator left me with the name Diana Kadmon.”

“Did you just say Diana?” Leto interrupted.

“You know the name?”

“We should have this discussion inside,” Hestia told the gathering of gods, wheeling Hephaestus through the front door of Hades and Persephone’s abode.

The group followed them inside, where Diana was surprised to find that the interior was much more spacious than the exterior implied. It was also much more extravagantly decorated than the house's plain exterior would have indicated. The entryway opened up to a ballroom-sized atrium, with a large marble table in the center of it. Hestia wheeled Hephaestus up to the table, and took her seat next to him. Persephone and Hades took their seats next to her, and Athena sat on the other side of Hephaestus. Leto, Theia, and Helios left an empty seat next to Hades and Persephone, and 4 empty seats between Athena and Leto.

Diana could suddenly feel the presence of a Void-Beast intruding upon local reality. On raw instinct, she drew her sword, and lunged in the direction the abomination would appear from, and as a humanoid figure appeared in front of her, she had her sword at its throat.

The figure was that of a handsome young man, with pale skin, white hair, and black robes, and a sword on his hip. Stretching behind him was a pair of wings which seemed to absorb all light that fell upon them.

“Diana!” Hades yelled. “Stop!”

Diana held her attack, but kept the sword in position.

“That is Thanatos. He serves me.”

Diana did not stand down. “Can you not smell the stench of death and chaos coming off of him? He is not a creature meant to exist in the same space as life or light.”

“He is death. That is his purpose. He collects the dead and brings them to this realm.”

“He is one of the protogenoi, yes,” Persephone explained. “The child of Night and Darkness. He may not be... the most pleasant. But he is bound to Hades and the underworld. He cannot betray them.”

Diana finally relented. “If you insist.”

#The Aftermath #Greek Mythology #Short Story #Diana Kadmon #Superhero Literature #Superhero #Writing

[atrophite]

@ofcharredbones said:  Johnny is perched above the titan upon a tree's gnarled branch, plucking petals from vibrant flowers and letting them fall gently around Gabe. Suppose it's his timid way of getting his attention, but nonethless, when he's spotted, the hunter merely grins. "Catch me!" There's no hesitation as he leaps. // how 'bout some nice destiny verse?? :3c

𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐒  𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃  𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑  𝐁𝐄  𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃    WITH  SILENCE  .  It  was  a  rare  occurrence  --  although  ,  for  Gabriel  it  wasn’t  quite  an  option  .  With  a  voice  damaged  by  the  Cabal’s  efforts  against  the  Traveler  and  every  single  living  -  breathing  thing  ,  he  had  very  little  room  for  being  vocal  .  There  are  days  where  he  can  speak  ,  though  .  Just  not  today .  Today  ,  he  would  spend  his  time  hunkered  down  beneath  an  ever  growing  tree  ---  -  book  in  hand  (  gifted  to  him  by  the  warlock  in  his  fireteam  no  less  ,  )  eyes  skimming  over  words  and  notations  that  describe  rather  crucial  ,  notable  details  regarding  the  existence  of  the  Vex  and  their  intention  .

IN  short  :  He  was  focused  .  Only  looking  up  when  a  petal  ,  two  ,  more  ,  come  fluttering  down  around  him  -  gently  sliding  off  his  armor  onto  the  grass  below  .  Glowing  orange  hue  directs  its  gaze  upward  -- -  his  mouth  forming  a  curious  O .  There’s  immediate  warmth  --  then  immediate  panic  when  Johnny  vaults  down  from  his  perch --- -  which  then  prompts  Gabriel  to  toss  the  book  and  leap  upward  in  a  swift  spring  to  grab  him  before  he  hits  the  ground  .  He  looks  at  him  .  Not  quite  scared  ---  but  awed .  And  perhaps  a  little  timid  .  Nebula ,  hovering  close  ,  seems  keen  on  voicing  exactly  what  Gabriel  is  thinking  :  “  𝙷𝚘𝚠  𝚍𝚒𝚍  𝚢𝚘𝚞  𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗  𝚐𝚎𝚝  𝚞𝚙  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎?  ”  Gabriel  can’t  help  but  to  smile  at  him  .  Maybe  a  little  too  softly  .

#ofcharredbones #♕ ⋰ ╼ ‘ give him valor / he’ll die glorious. ’ destiny. #gabe : HELLO > #also gabe : .... hello <3

[thedistantstorm]

The Morning After

A Kinderguardian wakes up on a couch, in a nice apartment in the Last Safe City, with no idea how she got there, and the Vanguard Commander makes her some coffee. He’s wearing regular clothes. Lilith is intrigued, hungover, and also regrets everything.

Roughly two weeks after the events of Phoenix Protocol:

-/

The lights in the flat are dimmed when he enters. Only a single candle is lit in the living room. On their loveseat - he doesn’t even blink at the thought of it being theirs, though this is technically still his residence and she does keep her own apartment - his beloved is curled up, focused. Her tablet casts ambient blue light across her features. He can tell she’s reading for pleasure based on how relaxed she is, Tamashii nestled into the collar of her robe, optic dimmed and resting. It isn’t that late though, so he's a bit surprised she has the lights off.

“Long day?” He asks, and stills when Miyu immediately puts her finger to her lips to shush him. She smiles when he heeds her request, staying silent. Tamashii shimmers away as she rises. She crosses the room as quietly as he’s ever seen, and she pulls him by the forearm into the kitchen.

Her lips press against his in greeting, and she turns on the single light over the sink instead of the main ones. “We have a guest this evening,” She murmurs gently. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“A guest?”

Miyu jerks her thumb toward the living room. “Lilith’s on the couch." From this angle, he can see the lump of small Warlock, the strip of light created from the one she's turned on illuminating her blanket-covered legs. "That fireteam she teamed up with on Titan invited her out. She’s never been drinking before.”

His eyes light up with something soft, almost amused, and his voice drops to a whisper. “Hopefully she didn’t give you too much trouble.”

“I don’t think she’ll do it again,” She murmurs. “Got a little philosophical with me on whether or not an Exo is technically a human being and cried herself to sleep.”

Zavala’s mouth twitches into a frown. “You should-”

“Yeah. I’ll talk with her about it when she’s sobered up a bit.”

He nods. “Cayde had his moments. The adjustment was… well, I think most Exos struggle with it.” He looks at the girl on their couch and back to Miyu. “If I can help, let me know.”

She squeezes their combined hands. “I appreciate it. She’s a good kid. Wish she’d have asked me to take her out though.”

“You can barely control your own drinking, if I remember correctly-” She flushes in the dim light and pouts.

“You came to get me one time,” She hisses.

“Shaxx seemed to think it happened more than that.” The smile that blooms on his face is more teasing than judgmental.

"It only happens when I'm with him. You can't tell me he's never subjected you to peer pressure!"

He chuckles low, pursing his lips and holding a finger to them, reminding her to be quiet. She blushes harder. He kisses her again, slow and sweet. "Shall we take this to the bedroom as to refrain from disturbing our guest?" 

Miyu hums something in the affirmative and lets him lead her with a hand on the small of her back. For the first time, when she closes the bedroom door behind them, she locks it with a quiet snick. Nizana will alert Tamashii if their guest needs anything.

-/

Her optics take longer than normal to boot up, to fully orient. She smells coffee before anything and blinks herself into focus silently. There's a blanket over her. It smells like sandalwood and jasmine, floral and fresh. She needs to stretch. She's sleeping on a couch, and though it's comfy, she feels like she's been dragged behind someone's Sparrow through the EDZ.

Nizana churrs quietly in her head. Washroom is to your left, the second door down the hall. Freshen up, you'll feel better.

She listens to her Ghost, feeling like she's still lacking a touch of her normal equilibrium. She wretches into the toilet for several moments, and if she had the ability to do so, she's certain she'd be blushing or crying out of embarrassment. She doesn't even know where she is.

You really did a number on yourself, Lilith, Nizana chastises through their link, but waits to do so until she's almost finished. Lilith splashes cool water on her face.

I remember being at the bar, Lilith thinks back to her Ghost. Morgana and Bertie and I were having a good time.

Yes, but you tried to show off and outdrink them.

Did I win?

Nizana shimmers into the space between her and the mirror, then scans her with a blue beam. Lilith recoils.

"'S too bright," She slurs, her own voice feeding the hollow pounding of her rapidly worsening headache.

"Do you think you won?" Nizana replies at normal volume. "You're going to be mostly functional today, but I wouldn't suggest fieldwork. You will likely feel dizzy and uncomfortable, at least until this afternoon."

Lilith sighs. 

Nizana relents, "You did win, but you were very intoxicated afterwards. My scans showed your alcohol levels to be nearly three times the limit to be considered safe to operate a Sparrow. You conducted yourself rather… outlandishly as well."

"Oh no."

"Oh yes," Her partner chirps right back. 

The Exo puts a hand on her forehead, looking at herself in the mirror. Even the ambient lights of her mouth made little fireworks go off in her head when she appraises herself. She didn't know she could feel like this. "I think I need to sit down."

"That sounds like a smart idea."

When she returns, there's a mug of coffee sitting on a black coaster waiting for her. On further inspection, the coaster itself looks handmade, with durable yarn. She takes note of a loveseat adjacent to her, a comfortable looking recliner, and a modest sized screen across the room. The blinds are drawn, so she can't tell exactly where in the City she is. That bothers her a bit, but not enough to subject herself to seeing what's beyond the window. The natural light will likely hurt her head, as well.

The sound of soft, measured footfalls makes her still. She doesn't know anyone who sounds like that.

Did I… go home with a stranger?

Nizana doesn't answer her. 

Lilith sighs and draws the blankets around herself. She feels cold. Hopefully she didn't. She doesn't think she'd be that unintelligent, even if everything after that super cute fruity drink was a blur. Maybe this is Bertie or Morgana’s home, although everything seems rather well lived-in and high end, considering the comfort of the furniture.

"Quietly," Comes a low voice from the kitchen. "Surely-" Their words get lower, and Lilith's sharp hearing cannot pick up what they're saying.

A very tentative, muffled trill is the reply. It still hurts her to hear. Then, she notes that a small, white shelled Ghost flits into the doorway. When Lilith makes eye contact, it shimmers away.

The footsteps grow louder, but not unbearably so. 

"Good morning," Commander Zavala greets politely, and Lilith gapes at him, jaw hanging. She's glad she's leaning over the coffee table with both hands around the mug. If it was in transit to her mouth she's sure she would have fumbled it.

"Uh…" Nizana provides zero assistance. Lilith supposes she deserves this. Weakly, when the Commander drops into the recliner near her and her brain errors on the innately casual nature of his movements, of the fact that he's wearing a simple tunic and pants, not full armor, she hangs her head and mutters, "Sorry for the trouble, Sir."

He shakes his head. "I believe I've conducted myself similarly plenty of times. We've all been there," He offers sagely. When she looks at him, surprised she's not being lectured, he gives her something almost like a smile. With his mouth. She doesn't - she must still be asleep, she thinks.

"Not to sound rude, Commander-"

The Awoken sips at his coffee. "Zavala is fine. We are not at the Tower, you are not on assignment, and it is well before working hours."

"Did you bring me home," She blurts, and she's certain some part of her face is surely overheating. Perhaps the ground will swallow her up.

He leans back, coffee in hand. "No, I did not. Miyu retrieved you. She's currently asleep in our bedroom, I suspect she'll be up shortly."

"What." The word is thrown out like a thunderclap. "She - you…" She sags dramatically against the couch.

"For all your projecting, I suspected you knew."

Lilith blinks at his eyes, then focuses on his forehead because his irises are so bright. "I mean, I do," She sighs. Her outburst doesn't help her head stop hurting. She flails dramatically despite it. "But she's never come out and told me!"

Owlishly, Zavala blinks back at her. He has more coffee and thinks before responding. "Miyu trusts you," He finally says. "Therefore I do, as well. I would hope your exercise discretion."

There is silence between them until the sound of quiet footfalls comes from the far end of the flat. Adelaide pops back into existence with a quick spark and zooms through the air. Lilith watches as deft hands reach out and bring her close, initiating a strange version of a cuddle.

"Good morning, Addy," Miyu whispers, Tamashii hovering over her shoulder. 

It's a party in here, Lilith thinks to Nizana.

Nizana sighs. I think it's nice, she answers in her distant, cool tone, and Lilith holds out her palm immediately, summoning her into the physical realm. Though seemingly childish and self-centered herself, Lilith is not dumb. She knows that answer means Nizana is lonely or jealous, maybe both.

With her Ghost in front of her, Lilith strokes her fins gently and cups her between her palms. Adelaide, upon seeing the newcomer, immediately introduces herself, Tamashii floating over as well. 

“Sleep well?” Miyu inquires of their guest.

She looks down. “I feel like I’ve been put through a blender.”

“Death by turbine is rather annoying,” Zavala quips and Miyu swats playfully at his shoulder before perching on the arm of his chair. “What,” He asks incredulously. “I was simply empathizing with her pain.”

“Mhmm,” She hums, yawning with a cute little yowl. He blinks up at her in a secretive kind of smile and she returns it, nose scrunching as she looks down at his face.

“Oh, you two are gross,” Lilith crows, looking at her own reflection in the blackness of her coffee. “I’m going back to pretending I don’t know about this before you make me sick.” 

"You being sick is on you, Lillie," Miyu informs her, in a volume just above a whisper. "Neither of us drank themselves silly last night."

#destiny fanfiction #commander zavala #oc: miyu #zavala x oc #oc: lilith #drunk guardians #kinderguardians

[literupture]

Playin’ the Odds

[AO3] | [FFN]

Summary: Things might not be perfectly set up, but Vallory's taking her chances.

Rating: Explicit

Ship: The Drifter x Female Guardian

    "I'm starting to get tired of picking up these... things," Vallory groaned, uprooting the glowing datalattice from its perch on a rocky slate. She wasn't even sure what datalattices were, but she knew that the resource had its uses. At least, she'd seen her Ghost use them on her gear before, and the armor felt stronger afterwards, more durable.

    "We just need a few more to get us to a comfortable amount, Val," assured Bacon, her Ghost. "Then we'll be at a nice, round number." He hovered near his Titan's left elbow while she harvested the luminous, digital-looking material. His multi-faceted shell was a sleek maroon, similar in color to some of the plants Vallory had seen on this planet. When she finished removing the datalattlice, he quickly scanned it with his neon-blue eye, and then transmatted it to their supplies.

    "Ugh, I'm just dying to punch something," Vallory sighed. She stood up straight, stretched her arms, then lazily looked around for the location of the next nearest datalattice marked by her ghost. Nessus, the unstable centaur that they were on, was pretty, but Val would much rather be shooting or punching the planet's invasive Vex. For some reason, her gathering trip had so far been uninterrupted by any enemies. From under her obsidian-colored helmet, she frowned, but hopped down the mesa towards the marked location.

    Heavy greaves hit the earth with a thud, and a small flock of crimson birds shot out of a nearby tree. Vallory paused to watch the birds fly overhead. The wildlife on Nessus was vibrant and unfamiliar to her; she wondered why a planet mostly converted by a race of hostile machines provided an excellent tropical environment for animals to thrive.

    I'll leave that to the scientists, Vallory thought. She was certain that the archives at the Tower had plenty of information on this planetoid--not that she would actually get around to poring over those dusty tomes. She'd probably ask Karyna and Entropy-4 later; thankfully both of her Warlock friends were well-read.

    A loud hissing sound, like static blaring from a loudspeaker, broke her from her reverie. She whipped around to see a hazy, computerized cloud appear above the cliff near where she had been standing only moments before. 

    Vex.

    The promise of combat injected a wave of adrenaline into her body. Vallory drew her hand cannon from its holster on her waist with speed and ease--something that she'd done so many times that it felt as natural to her as breathing. She sprinted towards a large rock formation and slid into a crouch behind it.

    Vallory peeked around her cover to see a group of Vex arrive. Her eyes passed over each enemy, assessing their ranks. The group appeared to be five bronze Vex Goblins and two Hobgoblins, accompanied by a single, massive Vex Minotaur.

    She watched as a trio of Goblins scanned the area with their red eyes. The remaining pair crouched to study the remnants of a datalattice--the one she had plucked earlier. The two Hobgoblins flanked the Minotaur, giving no sign of movement except for their swishing, whip-like tails.

    "I think that's a transport party," Bacon whispered over his Guardian's pauldron. "Might be carrying a bunch of loot."

    She gave her Ghost a silent nod. The Minotaur raised a silver limb, and after emitting a series of beeps, a wide chest appeared at its feet. 

    Vallory saw her opportunity. In one second the machine lowered a weaponized arm; in the next, a vicious crack rang out as its arm was blown off and sent clattering to the ground.

    The group of Vex turned to face the direction of the shot. Vallory had left her cover and was standing tall with her gun cocked. She felt the heat of the barrel through her gauntlets--a comfortable warmth that belonged to her. An angry sounding beep came from one of the Vex, something akin to a war cry, and they moved to engage her.

    Val sheathed her gun and reached out to the Light. She made a sweeping motion with her arm, and summoned a luminous purple Void shield. The Vex had begun shooting at her. She drew up her shield to block the incoming damage, but a few stray metal rounds pierced her armor. A sharp pain arose in her side, but she ignored it. She ran to the nearest Goblin and slammed into it with her shield, instantly killing it. 

    The Vex Hobgoblins charged and fired their line rifles at her. One laser was blocked by her shield, but the other clipped her thigh. It cut through the surface of her leg plates, searing her light blue skin. She cried out in pain, but turned that pain into fury and threw her shield at one of the Hobgoblins with great force. The shield cut through the first one's head with Void energy, then it pinballed to the second Hobgoblin, decapitating it. Their metal bodies disintegrated in a Void-purple haze.

    Her shield returned to her; she lunged to the next Goblin and rammed into it. She did the same to the remaining Goblins, zipping between her enemies until all that was left was the hulking Minotaur before her. 

    Her shield vanished, its energy depleted. The Minotaur stared down at her, raising a pointed arm above its head. It beeped thrice as it brought its arm down on Vallory. 

    She sidestepped and countered with a Void-charged punch to the machine's frame. It staggered backwards, Void particles tearing away at its surface, and Vallory drew her shotgun from her back. She fired three quick blasts at the small luminescent triangle on its abdomen. The triangle burst, spewing sizzling radiolarian fluid onto the earth. The Minotaur crumpled over, its torso falling away from the rest of its body, and the single bright red eye on its head faded as it died.

    With the enemies neutralized, Vallory turned to the black supply chest. She noted that the chest itself did not appear to be of Vex origin, so it was likely stolen goods. Bacon reappeared at her side, scanned his Guardian, and proceeded to heal her. She steadied her breathing while her Ghost fussed over her, and within moments her injuries were gone.

"A little messy, but nice job," Bacon observed. He floated near Val's shoulder, his gaze moving to the chest at her feet. "Now let's see what goods these Vex were transporting."

Val crouched down in front of the chest and pressed a thumb into the latch. It popped open, its contents shining in the sun. Within the chest were stalks of datalattlices partially buried by blue heaps of glimmer. 

"Nice! That's exactly the amount we needed!" Her Ghost exclaimed, but Vallory wasn't really paying attention. She was staring down into the chest, focusing on how the stalks and the glimmer reminded her of a pleasant memory.

She smiled at how the stalks and glimmer resembled glass bottles of liquor among a bed of ice. It had only been a couple of weeks since the Tower had held its annual barbecue, and Val remembered reaching into a similarly shaped cooler to retrieve a couple of beers. She had skillfully balanced the drinks and two plates of hot food all the way to The Drifter's hideout. She'd been careful not to draw any attention making her way to him, and as a result they'd had a nice dinner together. They'd laughed and flirted at each other between bites, but it was only playful flirting, and neither of them had acted upon it--much to her disappointment. Still, she'd enjoyed the company of her shady friend; she found herself wondering when they would hang out next.

"Val? Everything okay?" Bacon had slipped underneath the space between her arm and the supply chest. He looked up at her, the corners of his shell twisted with concern.

"Uh... yeah," she replied, clearly distracted.

She blinked away the memory and stood up. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Let's grab this loot and go." 

The Tower was seemingly filled to the brim with people. After dropping off her jumpship at the Hangar, Vallory transmatted herself down to the Tower's courtyard, and for a moment, she was surprised at how crowded it was. Employees decked in their bluish-grey work uniforms were everywhere; some were clustered in groups assigning and discussing their duties, others were transporting equipment to opposite ends of the headquarters, and a few hung by the Postmaster's booth--likely on break, since they were holding paper cups and chatting excitedly.

Alongside the chatter, power tools roared and whirred. On most days, the commotion from construction crews and mechanics was isolated to the Hangar, but today there were groups working here in the upper level. There were maintenance workers and builders decked in protective gear, finishing walls and reinforcing the architecture. 

Vanguard employees weren't the only ones swarming the headquarters. Civilians were dismounting the elevator and walking towards the Bazaar, and the Eververse booth and Cryptarch stall both had lines of Guardians. Vallory didn't see anyone she recognized, and she wasn't really in the spending mood. She did, however, have a few engrams to decode, so she made her way to the Cryptarch. 

At the end of the line stood a human Hunter wearing a tattered and red-hooded cloak. The rest of his gear was black fabric, fitted to his slim figure. His head was down and he was idly tapping at his communication tablet. His Ghost--a floating yellow diamond--was rotating its shell impatiently and spouting random observations of passerby. The hunter didn't seem to be paying attention, but for every few comments his Ghost made, he grunted in marginal acknowledgement.

Vallory leaned to take a peek at the front of the line. Master Rahool, the City's Cryptarch, stood with his palms outward and raised, and was attempting to calm down a fuming Warlock. The Warlock was clearly upset, and though there was clear frustration in their voice, they were trying their best not to make a scene. Val overheard enough to gather that the Warlock was not pleased with the engrams that Rahool had decrypted, and they were expressing their lack of satisfaction with his work over the past few months. 

Vallory sighed. At this rate, she'd be standing here for at least another hour, maybe even two.

Her Ghost materialized beside her. "Bored?" Bacon inquired, looking at his Titan with slight amusement. Val nodded. "Well, we could always come back later. Grab a bite to eat. Maybe do a mission or a couple Crucible rounds." He twirled his shell as he spoke, the afternoon sun reflecting on its surface.

"Hmm." Vallory pursed her lips, considering her options. She was always up for some food, but she wasn't too hungry at the moment. She thought about Crucible, but she wasn't really feeling that, either. "Yeah, none of those really sound appealing to me right now."

Bacon dipped slightly, as if to shrug. "There's always... that other thing," he whispered. The thing that they were specifically told to keep quiet about. Gambit.

Val bit her lip. She'd be lying if she said she didn't want to see The Drifter. If even seeing him for a few minutes meant that she could flirt with him, she'd gladly take that opportunity. Besides, he appeared to show some interest in her; Drifter never reacted poorly to her suggestive remarks, even flirting in return, and she'd seen subtle hints in his body language. The man was shrouded in mystery, though, so it was difficult to say for certain what his intentions were. However, Val was confident their interactions would lead to something, eventually. 

"Yeah... Okay. Why not?" she said slowly. "But uh, only if he's not busy. I don't want to stop waiting here just to go wait elsewhere." 

"You got it. I'll start up the comm link with him."

She fished a small wireless communicator from her belt, and pushed it into her ear. There was a bit of static, so she tried to adjust its position, but the static persisted.

"Sorry, there's a lot of interference. Likely because it's so busy today. I'll try my best to stabilize it."

The static continued, but a soft chime informed her that the connection was established. 

"Heeey." A smile tugged at the corner of Vallory's lips as The Drifter's smooth voice sounded in her ear. "It--shhh--Chosen One," 

The line cut out a bit, causing Val to furrow her eyebrows. Bacon looked at her apologetically and concentrated on holding the connection's frequency.

"Hey, hot stuff," Vallory replied, then braced herself for the adjacent Hunter's reaction. He didn't seem to hear it--or perhaps he did, but didn't care. The Hunter's Ghost swiveled to glance at her, then rolled its eye and went back to people-watching.

The Drifter let out a chuckle, but because there was interference, Val only heard bits of his laughter. "You gonna--shhhh--down here?"

She knew what he was trying to say, but her mind instinctively conjured dirty thoughts. "Oh, I'll be there," she added suggestively.

Val could hear the smile in his voice, even with the static in the feed. "You better be ready to bang--"

The connection dropped. Vallory felt her face getting hot.

She plucked the device from her ear and slipped it back into the pouch on her belt. A grin spread across her face as she took a step back and out of the line, nearly bumping into another Titan. He looked up briefly, then crossed his arms. 

"You can have my spot."

Val turned and hurried down the hallway, towards the staircase that connected the courtyard to the bazaar. There was a renewed vigor in her stride, but she managed to slip through the passerby without bumping into anyone. She was especially careful not to knock over any children or elderly.

"Wait, why are you...?" Bacon floated at her shoulder, trying to keep up with his Guardian's speed. Val had already safely cleared the second flight of stairs. "Val, I don't think--"

"Hush," Val cut him off. Then added gently, "Just let me have this."

Bacon let out an exasperated sigh. When his Guardian set her mind to something, it was difficult to steer her from that path. "Oh, fine," he surrendered. "I'll leave you to it, then. Just summon me if you need me. And... good luck."

Vallory turned to offer her Ghost an appreciative smile. "Thanks."

She weaved through the crowd in the connecting tunnel. The flow of the crowd was divided, with people on the right entering the tunnel and the people on the left side leaving. There was so much chatter that she could only faintly hear the dangling of wind chimes overhead as people passed through. When she felt that she was nearing the exit, she made a right, and was glad to find that her muscle memory deposited her at the entrance to The Drifter's corner. She'd frequented his hallway so often that its pale green light was no longer eerie, but welcoming. She slid underneath the gate and prayed that she would be the rogue Lightbearer's only company.

 "Hey there, hero. Here for some Gambit?"

Val, now on the other side of the gate, stood and turned to find the owner of that smooth voice--The Drifter--alone. The corner of her mouth curved into a smirk. Good. 

She placed both of her hands on the bottom of the gate and pulled it downward. The metal let out a low screech as it moved, then clanged as hit the floor. She could only faintly hear the commotion of the Bazaar now.

"What's all this, then?" The Drifter asked, his tone curious, but Val sensed that he was just a tad alarmed. She crossed the floor toward him with such speed and urgency that when she pinned him against the far wall, he was reaching for the gun at his waist. She had anticipated his reflexes, though, so she grabbed his wrist and held it. She brought her face close to his and gazed into his icy blues, desire clear in her half-lidded eyes.

The Drifter let out a small chuckle. "What can I do for ya?" She knew he was playing coy; he had a wicked grin displayed on his face as he watched her.

"You've got something I need," Val breathed against him. Normally the air smelled of crude oil, but that was just the workshop. Now, with her face inches from his, she inhaled the scent of him; The Drifter smelled of smoke from a fire pit, mixed with the mildest amount of maple. She brought her lips near his throat and continued in a sultry voice. "Something that I've been needing for a while now."

"And what might that be?" he replied, his tone cool, but his breathing giving away his anticipation. Val felt his breath on her skin--hot and moist--and she could feel her body reacting to its warmth.

"Maybe I'll give you a hint."

She touched her soft lips against his skin ever so lightly. She could see his pulse quickening on the side of his throat, and she felt her own pulse speed up as well. The edge of his beard brushed against her face.

She parted her lips and ran the tip of her tongue slowly from his collarbone, right up to that pulse in his neck. She could taste the salt on him, and she heard him suck in air through his teeth.

Then she bit him near the base of his neck. Not too hard, but just enough that the arm she was holding tensed. She released her grip on his gauntlet and was pleased that he no longer reached for his gun, but moved his hand to the small of her back. He pressed her body against his, needing more of her touch, and Val became aware of how much gear the two of them wore. 

With his right hand, The Drifter tipped up Val's face until they were only inches apart. His eyes locked with hers, and she saw something she'd never seen behind those blue eyes--lust. His gaze moved to her full, red lips. He hesitated, looking briefly at her bright eyes, but when he saw that they shared the same hunger, he pressed his lips against hers.

It was a crushing kiss. Their mouths moved together, exploring each other's shapes. Val nipped at The Drifter's lower lip playfully, and he responded by sliding his tongue into her mouth. Their tongues writhed against each other--wrestling, tasting. When his tongue moved into her mouth again, she sucked on it hard, and The Drifter's chest rumbled as he moaned in pleasure.

Now his gloves were gliding against her armor, searching the ends for fasteners. She figured she'd save him the trouble, so she broke the kiss and undid the latches of her chest plate. She pulled her gauntlets off and dropped them to the floor, then removed her chest plate and dropped it on top of the gauntlets. She bent to undo the latches of her greaves and stepped out of them, tossing them onto the pile of her gear.

When she stood up, she was wearing only a black thermal shirt and tight shorts. She found him watching her intently, his eyes taking in her curves. He let out a whistle.

"Always figured you had some killer curves under all that armor," he observed. Val grinned at him; she'd been complimented by previous lovers many times before, but this compliment was unique to him. "Glad to see I was right."

"Your turn," she said, closing the distance between them again. "You'll be able to feel these curves a little better when you lose the gloves."

The Drifter's eyes trailed along her form as he discarded his gauntlets. He removed the gun tucked in the leather belt at his waist and placed it on a small table, mindfully facing it away from the two of them. He made quick work of the leather wrappings and shrugged out of his dark green duster and gi, stacking them on top of the gun. The only article of clothing left on his upper body was a thin, dark undershirt.

His hands now bare, the Drifter glided them down the curve of her back.  Meanwhile, Val's slender fingers fiddled with the button of his pants. She was pleased to find his length pressing against the fabric. Her mind skipped ahead and she forced herself to bite her lip. He responded by undoing the button for her, and when she unzipped his pants, she briefly met his eyes--such a fierce blue, even in the dim lighting of the room.

Val returned her gaze to his crotch, and with one hand she freed his erection. She marveled at his size, wrapping her fingers around it and giving him a single stroke. Precum dripped off the head, and she caught it with the index finger of her other hand. She brought her finger to her lips and sucked, letting out a low moan, and she felt him twitch in her hand.

She liked this feeling of control she held over him, even if it was just here, in this moment, hidden away from the hustle and bustle of the Tower. She could probably get away with teasing him only for a little while longer before he gave in to their mutual lust, but she was determined to draw his urges out of him. 

Val pulled down on the waistband of his pants as she moved to sit on her knees. She rested her left hand on the firm muscle of his thigh to steady herself, and with her right hand she guided him into her mouth.

The Drifter's hands went to her hair. She swirled her tongue along his shaft and bobbed her head, eliciting rugged moans from him. Encouraged, she pushed further, the head of his cock pushing into the back of her throat, and in response he rocked his hips. She matched his pace, bobbing and sucking with his thrusts, and her eyes began to sting as she deep throated him.

Vallory didn't care. She reveled in the fact that the man she'd been eyeing for weeks shared her desires. She let him throat-fuck her, and she looked up to see his eyes closed as he moaned with every thrust. That sight alone was enough for her. A few more thrusts had him climaxing, and she swallowed around his cock as he released at the back of her throat. His knees buckled slightly, and he leaned back against the wall for support.

"Fuck," he gasped, and Val removed him from her mouth. She had a smug look on her face as she rose to her feet, and though she was satisfied that he got off, she wasn't done with him.

"Who knew I'd been missing out on that mouth of yours?" 

She smiled seductively. "Tapping out already?"

"Hell no."

Before Val could respond, The Drifter looped one arm around her and placed another hand behind her shoulder. With a single, swift movement, he lowered her to the floor. She felt the cold of the cement beneath even through her clothing and the wide rug that he laid her upon, and the plastic of a coiled tube jabbed into her side. She focused her eyes on him as he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, then stepped out of his pants and boots. Scars stretched across and dotted his skin, over his arms and chest, and Val was sure there were many more on his back. She would be lying if she said she wasn't a little curious, but she also didn't care. She wasn't some innocent girl batting her eyelashes, wishing he'd tell her the stories of each scar as they cuddled under a starry sky. Not my place to care, she thought. And he wouldn't, either. All she wanted was primal lust, and she knew he'd be the same.

He leaned over her, naked, and her legs parted for him. He bent to kiss her neck, grazing his teeth against her skin with every kiss. The jade pendant that hung around his neck was a chilly brand on her skin, but the heat from his body warmed her. She ran her fingertips along his back, feeling his muscles tense, and he slid a hand underneath her shirt. A tiny shiver went through her as his calloused hands glided over her belly, and suddenly she wanted nothing else but to feel his rough hands on every part of her body. She grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it off, along with her bra. He helped her by sliding off her underwear, and with no clothes or armor to hinder them, The Drifter gave in to the desire building within his core.

He placed the head of his cock at her entrance, her warmth and wetness barely touching him, then gripped her hips as he slowly eased himself into her. Val let out a deep breath that she didn't know she'd been holding.

He pushed until his entirety was in her, then he began to move. He started with a couple long thrusts, his fingers massaging her bare ass as he moved, then he quickened the pace. Val dug her fingernails into his back, and her own back arched to deepen his thrusts. He answered by thrusting in and out of her with enough ferocity that his balls slapped against her.

Even with him encompassing and filling her, Val couldn't get enough of him. This was exactly what she'd been wanting from him since she'd first met him. She crossed her ankles around his waist and cursed and moaned until they were both grunting. He continued massaging her ass with one hand, but the other moved to her breasts, gripping as he rocked against her.

She couldn't resist taunting him again. "More," she panted. "Is that... all you've got?"

The Drifter's eyes darkened. His hands went to her thighs, and in an instant he had flipped Vallory over. Her belly was flat against the rug, and the hose that was previously digging into her back now pressed painfully against her ribs. He pulled both of her arms against her back, crossing her wrists, and re-entered her. 

"Fuck yes," she muttered, and he'd only barely heard it.

"Oh, yeah? You like getting fucked like this?" His thrusts were deeper and faster now, and Val closed her eyes. She couldn't see him, but she'd bet glimmer that there was a nasty smile on his face.

She was going dizzy with pleasure and his movements were unrelenting. She felt the pressure within her building fast, and she was certain she wouldn't be able to last much longer. The pressure rose until it finally hit the ceiling; she cried out and her legs quivered and body jerked as she came hard. Shortly after, The Drifter followed suit, swearing, his thrusts slowing and final as he emptied himself into her.

He held himself in her for a moment longer, then he pulled out, leaving a sticky white trail between their bodies. He let go of her arms and allowed himself to collapse beside her, and the both of them lay there on their backs, the rise and fall of their chests slowing to a steady rhythm.

Naturally, The Drifter was the first to speak.

"I figured you were good, but had I known you were that good, I would've acted on ya sooner."

Vallory scoffed. "I'm fairly certain that I'm the one who made the move."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his lips move into a smirk. "Heh. Maybe ya did. Maybe it's no coincidence that the conversation that brought you down here was a little... faulty."

Val shifted onto an elbow to gawp at him, slightly wincing at the pain she felt on her ribs and back. "You set that up?"

He said nothing, only shrugged. No wonder he was alone when she arrived. Other guardians hadn't interrupted them, either. She doubted he arranged for the Tower to be so conveniently busy, but the comm link interference was believable.

Vallory sat up now. "Clever bastard. My Ghost is gonna freak," she said, partly in worry, but mostly in adoration. 

"Mm."

She met his eyes again, but his expression was unreadable.

"Hey, Drifter..." 

"Yeah?" The Drifter was sitting up now, watching her, but it felt like he wasn't really focusing on what she was saying. The guy fucks you, then goes back to being shrouded in mystery, Val thought.

She respected that, though. "Listen... I want to be clear here," she began. "I think we might be on the same page--correct me if I'm wrong--but what happened just now was fucking awesome. I'd be down for more, in the future."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she continued. 

"I'm all for getting fucked out of my mind," Val said, and there was a hint of fondness in her tone. "But don't get any ideas about anything beyond that."

The Drifter worked his jaw, mulling over her words. "Ideas such as...?"

Vallory exhaled impatiently. Why did he have to make her say it? "Romance. All that lovey-dovey crap. I'm not interested in it."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Well, lucky for you, I'm a busy guy. Ain't got time for love."

Questions about his past rose at the back of her mind, but she forced those thoughts down. What mattered was that he understood her. "Good," she replied, then shakily stood up. Her legs felt a little weak, but she was otherwise unfazed. She found her underwear and shirt in the pile of clothes and put them back on. "So, wanna grab a bite?"

That signature grin of his returned, and he reached for his clothing. "Already nibbled you a bit."

She rolled her eyes. "Actual food," she said, picking up his t-shirt from the ground and throwing it at him. "Come on. It'll be my treat. And no, it's not a date."

He slipped the t-shirt over his head and rose to pull on his pants. "Course not," he said, stepping into his boots. 

Both of them were almost completely clothed again. She turned toward him and gave him a curt nod. 

"Let's go, cowboy."

#fanfiction #destiny #destiny 2 #the drifter #the drifter x oc #the drifter x female guardian #drifter #oc #my writing #destiny fanfiction