#nightmare uldren

[aghostsdestiny]

"Alright, so yours gets to go to the vet. Whats mine doing?"

"Its over there waving its hands in front of Ikora's face, repeatedly saying "not touching, cant get mad"..."

"Yeah... she really hates that."

[lavenderarts]

✨ Welcome to the Crow Protection Squad y'all✨

All the Crow YCHs I took over on Twitter, including my original one that started this mess

I'm not able to take any more unfortunately, but thank you to everyone who got one!! The Squad grows ever stronger B)

[maccreadysbaby]

I’m so sad crow broke down and the guardian wasn’t there to help! Can you write a Drabble where a gn guardian is? I’d love to see some heavy platonic affection!!!!!!!!!

yes!

for anyone who may be confused, this ask is based off of the quote, “A lot of attitude for somebody who broke down crying last time we were here,” by Nightmare Uldren to Crow during Season of the Haunted. I’ve only watched videos that aren’t edited great so, I’m probably DIVERGING FROM CANON. Who woulda thought. Putting the breakdown at the time when Crow fails the severance and it says he’s sobbing in the captions. (They do exist. They are canon)

Little Guardian™︎

The Guardian pressed ahead, jogging through the underbelly of the Leviathan as they helped with the severances. The entire situation was nothing short of horrifying. Their friends, facing their pasts, their deepest fears head on. It made them wish they could do more. Anything more. The Nightmares — well, Crow’s nightmare — loved to speak. And he was eating the Guardian’s very last nerve at the moment.

“So, Guardian…” Nightmare Uldren started through the comms, a venomous tinge to his otherwise familiar voice differentiating it from that of their friend. “The Crow wants to be me, or he’s afraid he already is?”

The Guardian rolled their eyes as they continued through the ship, not caring enough about the dreaded Nightmare’s manipulation to work up a response.

“Is there a third option?” Crow muttered in reply.

Nightmare Uldren hummed. “Mmm, languish in your miserable limbo of a life? The Scorn will drag you into mine, eventually.”

The urge to bite back at him rose up in the Guardian’s throat, but they thought better of it. Mostly because Crow beat them to it.

“Those Eliksni deserved to rest in peace! What you did to them… I would never,”

The Nightmare chuckled on the other end. “We raised them. Gave them another chance. I thought you were all about second chances.”

The Guardian huffed as the comms fell silent for a while, and then, suddenly, they weren’t anymore.

“Where did those Scorn come from?” Crow murmured. The Nightmare took the chance to dig his claws in again:

“I told you: our prodigal children, returning to their father. Can’t you hear them calling?” The vile, pure hatred in his voice seemed to double. “Why did you abandon us?”

The Guardian’s feet skidded to a stop on the metal floor when they heard Crow cry out, the familiar sound of the Golden Gun being drawn and fired ringing through their comms.

“Crow?” They questioned. Their voice went unheard.

“Ow,” The Nightmare sighed. “You’re awfully bitter.”

Crow was panting, choking out words on the other end of the comms. “Damn right I’m bitter. You had everything, and you set it on fire for her!”

The Guardian subconsciously had a battle, fighting everything inside of them as they pressed on. All they needed was to get to Crow. All they needed was to do the severance. Nightmare Uldren was going to destroy him.

They couldn’t stand by and let him be destroyed.

The Guardian did what they had to. Fought. But the entire time, their mind was lingering on Crow.

“I’m… losing… I’m losing it!” He shouted.

“You can endure this,” Eris called in response.

The Guardian fought through their nerves, trying their very hardest just to fight back to Crow. They needed him. He needed them. Nightmare Uldren needed to go.

As they finally slaughtered the last of their enemies, they jogged into the room, panic and anger radiating through their veins as soon as they saw Crow. Hands and knees on the floor, Nightmare Uldren hovering above him.

“Fikrul’s alone. Hated, just like you were,” The red and black horror spoke. “You can help him, but you just… don’t. Because it’s one more step towards me. It’s why you won’t help our sister either. After everything Mara’s done for us.”

As the Guardian drew nearer, they spotted the tearstreaks glistening on Crow’s face. He was staring at the floor, baring down against the metal with his hands. “I don’t want her help!” He choked, sucking in a breath that turned more into a hiccup.

“This isn’t a knife fight, Crow. Accept his words. Move through them,” Eris ordered. Crow sat up straighter, sniffing.

“No! No. I’m going to enjoy ripping him out of me,” He ordered, bringing his hands up to grip at the front of his cloak. The Guardian stepped forward but stopped in their tracks. As much as they wanted to help him, he needed to do this himself.

“Try,” The Nightmare spat. “I’ll just burrow back in. Over and over, until I’m all you have.”

“I-“ Crow let out a strangled sob, struggling to find his words for a moment. “Eris… what do I do?”

“Retreat is not weakness. Breathe. We can try again, in time,”

Crow lifted a hand to his cloak again, tugging at the front as soft, muffled sobs wracked his body. The Guardian finally did what they’d been refraining from doing the entire time: they hurried over to him.

“Look, Crow. It’s your little Guardian,” The Nightmare chuckled. “Here to make you feel all better.”

The Guardian sent the Nightmare a well-aimed middle finger as they dropped to their knees next to Crow. He was crying — one hand tugging at his cloak, the other, gripping at the metal beneath him. He didn’t dare meet their eyes, but instead, kept his closed as his tears tapped quietly on the floor.

“Crow,” They said quietly, scooting so their knees were nearly touching his. They lifted their hands to his head, placing one on each side. “You’re not him. You’re never going to be him.”

He gritted his teeth, a violent sob jerking his body forward slightly. He moved his hand from the floor to their arm, gripping it. He wasn’t calming down — in fact, he only seemed to be crying harder now that they were in front of him. “I… I’m sorry. I’m sorry I let you down.”

“Don’t even think for a second that you let me down,” They ordered, shifting into a position where they could sit comfortably in front of him. He still wouldn’t look up at them, so they dipped their head down in an attempt to meet his irises. He looked away. “You could never let me down, Crow.”

“Of course you let them down. When you killed Cayde-6. Remember?” The Nightmare spat from behind the Guardian. “Hard to forget the reason your precious little Guardian killed you in the first place.”

Crow withdrew his hand from the Guardian’s arm at the Nightmare’s words, but they reached out and latched onto his wrists in response. He finally looked up at them. His orange eyes were dull at the same time they shone with tears, his face wet from crying. He only lasted a moment looking at them until he turned his head to the side.

“You didn’t kill Cayde. He did,” The Guardian tried. Crow weaseled his wrists out of their grip, so their hands traveled to his face instead. They gently turned it back toward them, his orange eyes flicking back to theirs momentarily. “Look at me. You aren’t him. Everything that happened before — that’s his fault, not yours. Not yours.”

He leaned into their touch slightly, his hands drifting up to rest on their arms. He opened his mouth to speak to no avail, fresh tears still streaming down his face as much as he tried to stop them. The Guardian leaned closer to him.

“You’re my friend. I trust you. I’m not disappointed in you… I… love you,” They muttered. Crow’s heavy breath’s hitched for a moment, orange eyes flicking up to them in shock. They heard Nightmare Uldren chuckling, obviously working up another comment, so they kept talking. “I love you, Crow. I didn’t take you from the Spider so I could spite you. I did it because you’re a good person. Your sense of justice. Your compassion, your sympathy. You’re good. You’re not like him, and you need to understand that.”

Crow stared for a moment. The Guardian’s hands stayed put on the sides of his face, and his grip tightened on their arms until a new wave of tears brimmed in his eyes — not from the Nightmare, but from what they said.

He looked back down at the floor, bringing his hands to his face in an attempt to hide the fact that they’d made him cry this time. The Guardian pulled him into their chest, wrapping him securely in their arms.

“They’re lying,” Was all the Nightmare could come up with in that moment. “You’re not good, you’re me.”

The Guardian let their hand travel up and down his back, the other resting on the back of his head. “I love you, Crow.” They repeated. Hopefully, their words would help to drown Uldren out.

“I-I love you, too,” He muttered into their armor, his voice coming out soft and muffled. Nightmare Uldren groaned, a gust of wind sourcing from behind the Guardian as he disappeared in an angry haze. Crow moved his arms from over his face to around their torso, gripping their cloak in his hands until his knuckles turned white. They could still hear him crying quietly, but the tears weren’t as heavy-laden as before.

“Everything I said is true, and more,” They whispered, brushing their hand through his hair gently. “You just gotta believe it, too.”

His grip around them tightened, and he sniffed a few times, too emotional to work up a response. And that was okay.

[a-sweeter-solarsystem]

I’ll be better than you.

ao3 may be down but I’m still gonna find ways to post my silly little writings >:(

Also managed to find the edited version that’s up on ao3 so I didn’t have to rely on my original draft!!  Horrah!! 

Side note that sign language is its own language!  Any sign language depicted in this work is written in plain english both because I find it difficult to convey all the emotions and gestures in sign language into written english, and I'm still learning the language myself and don't want to accidentally mistranslate anything   (；v；)

This work takes place during season of the haunted, shortly after the first attempt at severing his nightmare.

Crow's body felt heavy.  The past weeks had taken a toll on everyone.  Between the nightmares and the seemingly endless patrols on the leviathan, he felt almost like a spirit wandering aimlessly for its purpose.  Commander Zavala had finally convinced him to rest.  Cal as well.  Hell, with how busy Crow had been he couldn’t even fathom what sorts of things Cal had been doing.

Cal passed out first.  He had made himself comfortable hugging Crow's chest and resting his head over his heart.  Crow held him, welcoming the warmth of his partner, but he couldn't find the willpower to join him in resting.  His mind still stirred, strong emotions lingering.

He just wished he could sleep.  Even if just for a little while.

Irritation clouded Crow's thoughts the moment he heard Uldren's voice from somewhere nearby.  "Don't you ever worry about him?"

Don't you have anything better to do?

Crow kept the comment to himself, taking Eris' advice to ignore Uldren's torment.  The nightmare walked out from the wall to his bedside.  His former self smiled, scanning him and Cal as if looking for something to jab at.  Crow instinctively placed a hand on Cal's back.

"He's so weak.  And yet, oh so volatile.  A dangerous combination, if you ask me."

Crow's jaw clenched.  Uldren caught the gesture immediately, "Have you thought about what would happen if you lost him?"

"I'm not going to."

"And why is that?"  Uldren seemed to lean closer.  A twisted smile curling on the nightmare's lips, "Remembering what happened last time you lost someone?"

"That wasn’t…"  Crow snapped his head to look Uldren in the eye.  He corrected himself and spoke through gritted teeth, "I'm not you.  I won't make the same mistakes you did."

"You say that now...But you forget how close he's already come to true death.  One of these days-"

"ENOUGH!"

Crow shouted with his whole body.  He didn't notice he had pushed hard against Cal's chest, jolting the younger hunter awake.  Crow's focus remained on his nightmare, "Cal isn't going anywhere and neither am I!  You might've been too weak to move on but I’m not.  Stop trying to make me feel so alone."

A satisfied grin rested on Uldren's face.  It disgusted Crow.

"LEAVE!"

Uldren faded into the darkness.  Crow took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves.  As the room and its sensations returned to him, he looked down and froze.

Cal was watching him, wide eyed, and scared.  He was sat upright in front of him, tense and uneasy.  He seemed to be holding his breath.  Guilt pulled Crow's heart down to his gut.

"Cal I...I'm sorry I..."

Crow held up his hands defensively, but it made Cal flinch.  He lowered them, choosing instead to only draw one hand close to his chest to sign an apology.

Crow waited and watch Cal slowly unravel himself.  Hesitantly, Cal signed, "What was that?"

"Uldren"  Crow signed a reply.

Cal looked briefly back to where he had seen Crow shouting and back.  All that was there was the empty space of their bedroom.  Crow added, "It was nothing...He was just trying to annoy me."

Cal’s brows furrowed and his eyes seemed softer.  "What did he say?"

Crow laid back down, inviting Cal to do the same by shifting off to the side of the bed.  "The usual.  That I'm weak, that I killed people...he's very unoriginal"  Crow lied with a weak smile.

Cal seemed unconvinced.  His light green eyes studied Crow, watching his partner’s smile fade more and more.  "Are you okay?"

Crow took a long look at his partner.  He thought about Cal the first time they met.  He was so scared.  He looked starved, with dark circles of exhaustion and anxious glances every few seconds to see who was watching him.  He had seen Cal grow the past year.  Seen how much stronger he became.  He learned to control both the light and darkness within him, helped fight countless enemies, and even showed him a thing or two about being a guardian.

He thought about himself, of where he started.  Nameless at first, working for Spider and being treated like dirt.  Being saved by others time and time again because they chose to look beyond his face and see who he truly was.  He recalled the way Zavala used to look at him.  Then remembered how even through the uncertainty Zavala still offered him a hand.  That he still allowed him a place in the vanguard.  And with that trust, others learned to trust him as well. 

They, Cal and Crow, they were both forced to build themselves from the ground up.  They lied.  They fought.  They survived.  And they recovered.  Even though the memories of their pasts haunt them, they’re here now.  They’re alive.  And they are a million times better now than they were back then. 

"Yeah...I think so."

Cal finally joined him, keeping his nervous gaze on Crow’s hands in case there was anything else to say.  He wrapped an arm around Cal's shoulder, resting his cheek against Cal’s head.  No matter what Uldren said, he won't let it come between them.

[prince--ofnothing]

Nightmares of a different kind.

Wanted to do a one colour scheme piece and I think this turned out okay for a first try.

[trcvelers-chcsen]

Anonymous asked:

[ Close walkman and press play. ]

QUEST STEP: INVESTIGATE THE MYSTERIOUS WALKMAN (complete)

"Give that walkman back, or I swear on all three of my fucking lives, I will-" they began to threaten, but it was too late.

The play button was clicked. The tape began to play. Knives was thrown toward the device, the exo desperate to destroy the offending material before it could reach their non-existent ears, but it was dropped to the ground to the ground in shock before it could be struck.

Apollo stepped back, their hands shaking uncontrollably as the recording on the tape played...

Two voices rung out betwixt the ratting of gunfire, and the high-pitched whines of energy weapons.

One has an electronic overlay. It's familiar. This is Apollo's voice.

The other is decidedly more organic. This voice is unfamiliar.

"...I thought I'd find you here," the unfamilar voice stated, almost fondly. "The fleet is almost ready. Come with us, Apollo. We'll explore the cosmos together, just like we always wanted!"

The shuffling of gravel and asphalt could be heard in the background, as though one of the two conversants had just stood up from a crouch.

"About that..." Apollo responded. "I see New Monarchy colors filing onto your fleet."

Gravel crunched beneath feet as the audio indicted that Apollo had turned to face the other voice.

"You all wanna ditch this planet 'cause the City was attacked, with a bunch of the traitors that fucking attacked it? How does that make sense?"

"I-I don't-" the other voice attempted to respond.

There was a pregnant silence, a muffled explosion bursts in the distance before the voice responds.

"Threes, darling, please..."

"Don't you fucking call me that, Set," the exo interjected. Their synthetic voice wavered. "Not unless you plan to stay."

"Wh... You know I can't do that, Apollo. You know why I can't do that, Apollo," the other person - Set - responded, putting emphasis on their name, faer voice getting closer.

"So you're just gonna cut and run, leave these people to die, because some troublemakers can't accept change?"

"The Last City is doomed, Apollo," Set barked back. "There is no future here!"

"We are Guardians, Set!" the Gunslinger implored the Stormcaller. "We've always made our own fate! We kill gods when we work together!"

Set gave a sort of watery half-chuckle.

"Y'know, I've always found that hopeful streak of yours beautiful, Apollo," the Warlock sniffled. "But now isn't the time for hope. It's the time for action."

"Then don't go!" Apollo begged, their voice cracking through their voice module. "Please... we can fight whatever comes for us... together...!"

There was a sniff picked up over the recording, though it was unclear who it had come from.

"...I'm sorry, Apollo. I just... I can't believe that. I want, to, but..."

"...But what, Set?"

"What if we die our final deaths fighting a losing battle...? I can't lose you, and I can't lose Starshine!"

Apollo let out a scoff.

"What if, huh? What if I go with you, and whatever is out there is more dangerous than what's gonna happen here?"

Another pause. A moment of silence.

"It's all a gamble, Set," they continued, their voice softer now. "Not even the Vex, with their Forge Worlds, and star-powered matrioshka brains have a perfect handle on the future. Not where it concerns the paracausal."

There's another sniff.

"I personally like my odds better here," Apollo finished. "And, I'd prefer that gamble if you were here with me."

A wavering, choked sob bubbled from Set. The crunch of gravel indicated Apollo, stepping closer to comfort their terrified human companion.

"Stay. Please... we'll take our future into our own hands. Stop the Darkness. Live here, on Earth, the beautiful blue planet humanity first emerged on!"

"I-I..." Set sobbed.

"I need you, Set... I need to gamble on us... BOTH of us... making it through this alive...!" Apollo implored.

"I..." the Warlock attempted again. "...I can't take those odds, Apollo... I'm sorry..."

The Hunter made a noise like they'd just been stabbed in the gut. And judging from the expression on the Present-day Guardian's face, it probably would've hurt less to be stabbed.

"...So that's it then...?" Apollo questioned, their tone shifting. "We're over...? Done in by fear, and a mutable future that has yet to come to pass?"

"WE SAW YOUR FUCKING GRAVE IN THAT PREDICTION ENGINE, APOLLO!" Set roared. "You, me, and Helios, listening to Saint giving your FUCKING eulogy!"

"I don't plan on dying any time fucking soon, Set! I don't give two shits WHAT some flawed supercomputer thinks is gonna happen!"

"It's all the proof I fucking need to know we're all dead if we stay here! If you die, who the hell can survive?"

Apollo swore under their breath.

"I've seen firsthand how bad the Vex are at understanding us!" The Gunslinger challenged. "And if you had half the fucking spine needed to see that, you wouldn't be running off to gallivant through the fucking stars with traitors!"

"Excuse me?!"

"I said what I fucking said. I can't believe I fell in love with a fucking coward."

"FUCK YOU."

"It'd be better than fucking talking to you at this point," they retorted. Gravel crunched as they turned away from their now former lover. "Goodbye, Set."

"N-no... W-wait- I didn't..."

Apollo, judging from the sound of footsteps, had begun to walk away.

"C-come back, please...!"

"...If it's any consolation, I really don't want you to die either... I hope you stay safe, wherever you end up going."

"Stop, Apollo... please just fucking stop...!"

"I love you, Set..." they croak. "But I have a world to save. And you said yourself you can't take that gamble on me."

"No...!"

"I'm sorry."

Set's desperate sobs slowly began to turn into a building growl. The sound of footfalls stopped.

"Wh... my radar turned..."

A sound like thunder boomed through the recording, and the buzzing of electricity became the desperate wail of a jilted lover.

"What...!?"

There was a shuffling and skidding, a stretched boom, familiar to Guardians as the dreaded sound of an incoming Chaos Reach, followed by a second boom, and the familiar ring of a single shot of a Golden Gun.

And all.

Goes.

Silent.

"...A... poll... o..."

"N-no..." the exo's voice rung out through the silence. "N-no, no, no, no, I didn't mean to- it was reflex, I-"

Crunching, irregular footfalls presumably bring Apollo back to Set's side, as the slow crackling of flame emanated from nearby.

"...S-sor... ry..." were the Warlock's final words, before presumably disintegrating into Solar light and ash.

The sound of a transmat firing swept the recording, a new voice crying out at the guardian.

"What did you do...?! Fae just wanted you to come WITH faer, you stubborn asshole!!"

"I-I didn't... fae just... S-Set... I..."

The stammered half-sentence was cut off by the sound of Apollo, scrambling to their feet, stepping backward, and running.

The recording cuts off there.

"...So." Apollo stepped forward, body tense, voice shaking.

"...Are you fucking happy, now that you got to witness the second worst day of my third damn life?"

The Guardian snatched the device from the ground.

"Don't fucking answer that. I don't give a shit how you feel."

Apollo would punctuate their remark by transmatting away.

[of-golden-guns]

"He shot me. With my own gun! And he's STILL. HERE."

"Crow is not Uldren."

"Just like I'm not Cayde."

“I see you still have Ace.” A voice coos, floating to the left of the guardian,

The guardian haulted at the familiar voice, a shadow that claimed their friends voice to turn them into twisted malice to torment.

The guardian took a deep breath trying to steady themselves. Continuing on through the depths of the Leviathan. To hunt down and put an end to the floating faces.

The nightmare of Cayde 6 hovered beside the Guardian, watching them move through the Leviathan. It made a point to make as much noise as possible, so that it could get under the guardians skin.

It watched them silently before speaking. “So you’re not going to address me at all?” it asked, its voice tinged with a hint of annoyance.

The guardian kept walking. Trying to push through the shadows taunts. "It's not Cayde-" They mutter softly. Mostly to remind themselves,

It chuckled at the Guardian's muttering. "And how do you know that?" The shadow asked, floating right in front of the guardian cutting them off.

It leaned in close to the Guardian's face. "What makes you so sure that I'm not him?" It asks with a familiar smirk,

The guardian glanced up meeting its red optics. "Caydes dead." Moving passed the nightmare uneasily. Just trying to focus on the task at hand, praying the shadow would go away.

The nightmare chuckled at the Guardians attempt to ignore him, moving back behind them, continuing to taunt.

"Such conviction. So sure of yourself that you know the truth." It mused. "But is it really the truth?" It said, suddenly appearing in front of them again, stopping them from moving.

It leaned in close enough, almost enough to touch. "Or is it a lie to ease your conscience..." It whispered softly. "Because there's one problem you failed to address.."

The guardian looks up silently. Their fists clenching and unclenching uneasily. Remaining silently for a few moments too long. They turn their head away trying to remain composed despite their heart beating loud enough in their ears.

The nightmare could see the anxiety that was beginning to build on the Guardians face. It knew it was getting to them, which was exactly what it intended.

It chuckled darkly at their silence, “Can’t bring yourself to speak, can you?” It said, moving closer. “Come now, you used to be so talkative.” The shadow muttered sarcastically, "Here I'll give you a hint....his first name is Uldren and his last name is Sov." the shadows voice bleeds with anger.

"Crow is not Uldren." The guardian mutters quietly. Their composure failing as they hesitantly step back,

The nightmare laughs at their words, "Oh, so you do speak." The shadow says in a condescending tone.

It steps closer, its body practically touching the Guardian's now. "You really think that by giving him a new name changes who he is?" It sneers, "he's still the same person that killed me, that took my life!" It says, itss voice becoming more sinister. It shifted away before turning back,

"That's what you tell yourself isn't it?" The nightmare replied, following them. "You say he's not Uldren anymore, that he's a different person. But the question is, do you really believe that?" The shadow questioned, towering over the guardian menacingly.

The guardian stumbled backwards staring up at the nightmare their eyes widened. "Hes-"

The shadow was quick, and grabbed the Guardian by the collar of their armor and yanked them closer. It gripped their armor with a tight grasp and held them up in front of its face, "He's what?" The nightmare said, its eyes flashed red. “Finish the sentence."

The guardian stiffened at The Shadows hold. "Hes not Uldren- he-" They stammered out.

The Guardians answer caused the nightmare to grip tighter on their collar, "He’s not Uldren you say? Then who is he?” The shadow demanded in harsh tone. It leaned in closer to the Guardians face. “Answer me! He used my own gun to kill me and he's STILL. HERE." It seethed angrily.

The shadow threw the guardian down and scoffed. Vanishing into the darkness leaving them to stew in their thoughts.

[lizzieraindrops]

Destiny is a story about shapes and grief.

I think I may have figured out Destiny. I don't think the primary conflict between the Light and the Darkness is the philosophical issue we thought it was.

I got thinking about it after all this talking, with many others but especially @jazzhandsmcleg, about the way all of The Witch Queen DLC and its 4 seasons have had overarching narratives surrounding trauma and cycles of violence and grief, and the way the Darkness and the Light are characterized by their different approaches to it.

In TWQ, Savathûn is given a true second chance for her species in the Light. But as Ikora points out, she struggles to break free of the learned patterns of the Darkness, continuing the pattern of deception and violence.

Same with Season of the Risen - it’s the Warlords and Dark Ages all over again, but this time it’s the Hive. It forces once again to ask: what does it mean to be given a second chance if this is what you do with it? Temper this with Saladin’s story about the girl from the Dark Ages who he protected, but who became a cruel mortal Warlord in her own right. Crow objects to the mental torture of the Hive Lightbearers and he tries to break from the cycle of interspecies violence, but unintentionally ends up continuing it by killing the Psion and heightening tensions between humans and the Uluran.

Season of the Haunted!!! Literally, the entire thing is about confronting your traumas and greatest fears and the worst parts about yourself and beginning to heal them, making something better from them. Completely changing the game by turning Nightmares that torment into Memories that guide you. Crow with the memory of Uldren, Zavala with that of Safiyah, Caiatl that of Ghaul - and most importantly, resolution focuses on how they, specifically have been held back from healing by their self-incriminating Nightmares. It challenges the cycle of continuing violence on a very personal level. Eris even has patrol dialogue describing the a Nightmare as a thing of pain craving only more pain: "Such is the cycle."

Season of Plunder brings up the very same questions on a much higher organizational level. It gives us Eido and Eramis taking very different jaded vs. new-hope approaches to the legacy of the Whirlwind, asking: can we change? Are we defined by generational trauma forever? Can we continue to grow and change for the better even though it can never be undone? Though Eido is clearly young and naïve, we're clearly given the opportunity and narrative nudge to sympathize with her desire and hope for growth and redemption, both for the Eliksni overall, and for Eramis in particular.

And we're not even done with Season of the Seraph, but it already goes incredibly hard asking the same questions, again from a more personal angle. How far, and through how many generations is trauma transmitted? From the Bray family to Rasputin, to Felwinter to Osiris to Ikora – how do we fix this? How do we fix this? How do you defeat an enemy who IS war itself? What can you do to end an endless cosmic cycle of violence?

Go back and back and back in Destiny's lore even back to D1, and the majority of conflicts seem driven by this cycle of grief and revenge and violence. The entire line of humanity's war with the Hive goes back through Oryx's grief for Crota and the First Crota Fireteam and Eriana-3's grief for her wife Wei Ning. Even the Hive siblings' pact with the Worm Gods, though manipulated by Rhulk, was driven by the pain and grief they endured for themselves and their people, and wanting to escape that cruel pattern. The entire predicament of the Eliksni and their conflict with humans is driven by the trauma and grief and loss of the Whirlwind. Even Caiatl's empire, a conquering force that would be highly regarded by the sword logic, now must reckon with the same kind of loss in the Fall of Torobatl.

How do you escape this cycle and stay free of it?

I think, this year, we are finally seeing the beginnings of an answer.

I can't highly enough recommend the TWQ Collector's Edition lorebook (page scans & transcript) and The Hidden Dossier (page scans & transcript) that immediately follows it. What I've been calling Ikora's theory of "memory and grace" that she develops through the course of these two lore books is a balanced philosophy of memory/Darkness and grace/Light (which honestly deserves an entire post of its own). I think it clearly points toward the final resolution the story of the conflict between the Darkness and the Light.

In light of this, something in the Calus part of the new Lightfall CE lorebook (images, transcript) really jumped out at me.

“The doomed and the damned left the record of their downfall in the OXA. Your star got its name from the oldest myths in that archive. And when your mother told your father that story…the star became your name. A prayer that all will go as it must…and the way it must go is struggle.” “Aiat.” Not a word in Ulurant or any other Cabal tongue. “But Caiatl means something else..” “Yes. ‘It may not always go as it needs to go.’ A good name for a soldier." "A strange name for a daughter," I say. "Your father chose it for your mother's sake. Out of love."

And because the parallel is so overwhelmingly striking, I am once again going to reference philosophy/worldbuilding from the Young Wizards universe, which has great resonance with Destiny lore and which Bungie has been long aware of and has even been referenced in Forsaken-era canon lore.

“all the fair things skewed, all the beauty twisted by the dark Lone Power watching on his steed. If only there were some way he could be otherwise if he wanted to! For here was his name, a long splendid flow of syllables in the Speech, wild and courageous in its own way—and it said that he had not always been so hostile; that he got tired sometimes of being wicked, but his pride and his fear of being ridiculed would never let him stop. Never, forever, said the symbol at the very end of his name, the closed circle that binds spells into an unbreakable cycle and indicates lives bound the same way.” [...] “Nita bent quickly over the Book and, with the pen, in lines of light, drew from that final circle an arrow pointing upward, the way out, the symbol that said change could happen—if, only if—and together they finished the Starsnuffer’s name in the Speech, said the new last syllable, made it real.” Excerpt From: Diane Duane. “So You Want to Be a Wizard, New Millennium Edition.”

CAIATL’S NAME IS LITERALLY THE UP-AND-OUT SYMBOL.

I know I'm probably only talking to the handful of Destiny players from the (very small) Young Wizards fandom, but what you need to know is that this moment is pivotal and sets up the series-long theme of hope for an eventual exit from the cycle. It's the incredibly small, overwhelmingly improbable possibility of a second chance, a new start for the Lone Power, the source of all strife and suffering, who itself is driven by loss and pain. A concept of extended grace that is inherently tied to the philosophy of the Light.

“Billions of years, it took. All the redemptions there have ever been went toward this; from the greatest to the least. And finally in the fullness of time you came along, and took my role, of your own will, and woke up a race powerful enough to change the whole Universe, and gave them the fire.” She glanced up at the mobiles and smiled. “How could he resist such a bait? He took the gamble: he always does. And losing, he won.” [...] “The Defender reached down and put a hand into the shadow. “And we are going where such matters are transcended… where all his old pains will shift. Not forgotten, but transformed. Life in this universe will never have such a friend. And as for His inventions… look closely at Death, and see what it can become.” The long, prone darkness began to burn, from inside, the way a mountain seems to do with sunset. “Brother,” the Defender said. “Come on. They’re waiting.” Excerpt From: Diane Duane. “High Wizardry New Millennium Edition.”

This is the devil’s second chance, its homecoming. Grace among the memory. How do we heal this? By fixing it. By making and TAKING that opportunity of grace.

Likewise, Destiny is shaping up into its own universe’s story of this Reconfiguration, the remaking of everything that exists through the act of a second chance, both offered and taken, with full awareness of the irreversibility of harm already caused.

Destiny isn’t the story of the light and the darkness fighting each other. That happens, but that’s not what it’s ABOUT.

It’s “And I know exactly what we are. We’re best frenemies with a history of intense mutual hurt and messy reconciliation, leaving a deep tenderness as well as an almost impenetrable knot of scars. What could be simpler?” (Chalco)

It's “For so long, I believed peace was beyond my reach. No more. I have found it in guiding others down the same path that saved me. But… I might allow myself to want more than peace. What, I am not certain. Is joy the word? Might I find that again?” (Eris)

It's “Second chances… hm. Turns out I've been using mine wrong. I thought being a Guardian was my destiny. That wielding the Light for good was the most I had to offer. But it's clear now. This is what the Traveler chose me for. I was reforged in the Light for a purpose. To remake something dead and gone… into something beautiful. To learn how to forge something new from what we were. Everything Uldren did to the Reef, the Scorn… Fikrul. I have a responsibility — no — a calling to make them whole. And… I can't replace Cayde. But I can cover his old patrols — maybe organize the Hunters a bit, if they'll let me. Clean up some of my mess. I don't know if I can fix everything Uldren left broken… but I can try.” (Crow)

We aren’t defeating the Darkness. That’s never what it’s been about. It’s about breaking the cycle of trauma and grief with memory and grace. We're transcending the Final Shape, but we're not here to destroy it or become it. We’re harmonizing the Darkness and the Light into a sustainable balance to create something new from the wounded remains.

We're here to heal the broken relationship between the Winnower and the Gardener.

That's all that it is, in the end. They had a falling out, and now they hurt, and they hurt each other, and everything else, forever. Breaking free from that cycle begins and ends with them.

Is that fair? No, it's not.

But Destiny is – unhingedly, brilliantly, paradoxically – a FPS game about how to stop killing each other, growing ever more into a framework of restorative and reparative justice.

The story says, we are all culpable, we have all done awful shit and have endless potential to do more awful shit – AND, most critically, we all have the potential to do better (grace). AND, the act of making the conscious choice to do so and letting that happen is the only way for things to get better (memory).

The Collapse happened and it was horrible, the Red War happened and it was horrible, the Great Disaster happened and it was horrible, Twilight Gap happened and it was horrible...AND?? HOW ARE YOU GOING TO RESPOND? The Whirlwind happened and it was horrible! The Fall of Torobatl happened and it was horrible! Your species' Choice was stolen and you became the most prolifically violent killers in the universe and it was and is horrible! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?

Are you going to make it more horrible? Or are you going to make it BETTER????

Are you going to fight for the Final Shape, or for the gentle kingdom ringed in spears?

[dazadoop]

Did this back during Season of the Haunted. Also the only time I've done a fully rendered piece with Lyka in her armor lol

I like to imagine that although Nightmare Uldren was tied to and haunting Crow that the nightmare took full advantage of Lyka's past and feelings for Uldren and did it's best to torment her as well.

[aghostsdestiny]

"He's going to jump into a hole. All that struggle with Nightmares, coming to terms with trauma, BANISHING ME TO THE SHADOW REALM OF FEELS, & he's just gonna go jump into a hole!!"

[unlucky-phantom]

Home

A little self indulgent piece of my OC phantom and cayde.

Angst with eventual fluff.

This has not been proof read

Enjoy xoxo

Home.

He's home.

Sprawled out on the sofa of my...our flat, snoring softly. One leg over the back of the sofa, head tilted back, resting on his hands like he never left.

His Cloak slung over the coat hook it used to call home until 5 years ago, boots beneth it, still caked in mud and on the coffee table, his holster and ace...ace 2? I glance back to my bedside dresser, caydes ace of spades resting there, the tool of retribution that carried swift justice to uldren sov. My gaze returns back to the other wespon, cracked with an un-earthly glow sitting on the coffee table.

Why can't I be happy about this,Like every one else?

Why can't I welcome him back into my...our bed like I used to, curling up into his side, listening to his inner mechanisms softly working as we simply bask in one another's presence?

I should be elated. I am. Its like every wish I ever asked for rolled together in one. An impossible ask made real, laying on my sofa...our sofa. Back where he belongs. He's safe.

But what about me?

Selfish thought I know but,What about the tears I cried every day for 5 years? The nightmares? The hallucinations? The sleep terrors? The anxiety attacks?

What about my pain!?

I grieved. I grieved for him. The life we could have had. The death of seemingly everything I held dear and now I'm supposed to just...forget that? Forget how much i suffered while everyone else managed to move on.

Envy it an ugly emotion but I feel it nontheless strongly as I do my grief.

Does he even know?

I'm sure he must have some idea. I'm sure zavala and ikora filled him in. I'm sure sundance and midnight spoke.

Spoke about the night I screamed so raw my throat bled. The night zavala found me curled up behind the bust of cayde in the tower, wrapped in his cloak as the snow settled around me, slowly burrying me as i stared off into nothingness. The missions I returned from, battered and bloody only to pick up the next bounty and leave. No food. No rest. No time to remember.

Maybe thats why his eyes followed me with that uneasy concern when I bid him good night. The look of understanding that sent an uneasy shiver down me when I asked him if we could sleep separately for a while as I got used to my dead partner being alive and well back in my...our apartment.

A shiver of frosty air shoots up my spine and sets my teeth on edge.

He's here again.

Not the real cayde.

But the cayde thats been with me since he died.

The cayde that lingers in the shadows, that stalks me in the light of day, that lingers over my shoulder. A waking nightmare.

He first started to apear a few days after caydes death. Only at night. He would hover beside my bedside, bending down beside my ear to whisper.

"I was waiting for you. Waiting for you to run in and put a bullet between that bastards eyes. But you didn't. You were too late. Too late. TOO LATE!"

"Youre sick. Sick in the head. You welcomed my killer into our home with open arms. Crow? Crow?! That's what the sick fucks calling himself now? Are you that desperate to betray me? That desperate to desicrate MY HOME with that murders precence?!"

Then it would vanish as the dawn arrived leaving me sleepless and guilt ridden.

Until it didn't.

Until guardians would give my looks of sympathy and fear when a smokey apparition of the ex hunter vanguard would be glanced over my shoulder. Lips uttering words only I could hear.

I tried everything. Pills, alcohol, therapy, eris's hive magic, maras paracausal influence but nothing stopped the ghastly characature of my dead lovers visage from taunting me.

Ikora began to avoid me. I dont blame her. Being forced to see her fallen friend every instance we spoke must have been hard but...at least she could escape it.

Zavala simply gives me this look. The kind of look you give an animal you know needs putting out of its Misery as it lays dying at the side of the road. The type of look you give sickly dying people when you know they're on their last legs. I know he means well.

But I avoid him to now. I am not dying nor sickly...not outwardly and I don't wish to be treated as such.

With a sigh I turn, heading back into my...our room.

I'll get it right eventually.

I shrug off my clothes leaving them heaped on the floor, tugging on one of caydes hoodie that no longer smells like him before sliding into bed.

"Broken" it hisses.

"You think that's what i want. You think after these years, after what you've become, I'll want you?"

"Deluded"

"Shut up" I whisper holding my hands over my ears but it does nothing to silence the vile vitriol that slips from its mouth.

"Broken little phantom. How many time did you think of crushing midnight and ending it all huh? Monster. Selfish monster even considering that. I deserve better."

I curl into a ball as if caydes hoodie and the blankets will save me from the ghastly manifestations of my biggest failure. But it dosent.

My heart rate begins picking up as further hateful bile is spews from the lips of the creature using my lovers face to torment me. My fingers tremble against my face as my body convulses with each sob that wracks my frame.

"Worthless, selfish, untrustworthy, lying, unfait-"

"Hey"

The voice seemingly interupts itself

A hand on my shoulder jolts me to the present as i turn expecting the face of a nightmare...

2 icey blue optics stare into my own eyes from the darkness. Not the misty red smoke I expected.

"Zavala...zavala told me about...well...me" he says softly. The feeling of his hand on my shoulder, thumb rubbing gentle circles feels...Alien but...also like home.

Cayde glances at the misty apparition of himself with a hard glare. His eyes soften as he looks back to you "this guys a real buzzkill huh?" He says softly in a weak attempt to lighten the mood. He readjusts himself on my...our bed. Placing himself between me and the nightmare.

"Just ignore...him? Me? No not me. Ignore it" he murmurs as he slips under the covers. I cant help my body tense as he moves up beside me. As if sensing my unease he also freezes.

"I can leave, if you want. Go back to the sofa" his voice softly speaks as if I'm a cornered animal, soothing. Safe.

I pause. No. No thats the last thing I want now. I spent 5 years apart from him, I don't want to spend a single moment away from his side.

"No please stay" I mumble, voice horse from the tears that a familiar hand was wiping away. My hand finds the material of his tshirt and I move myself trying to get iven closer despite us already being flush together.

"Always"

His body fits against mine like a puzzle piece, arms snaking round my waist, anchoring me to him. "It wasn't your fault doll. I promise"

My body gradually untenses for what feels like the first time in 5 years as I sink back into he familiar embrace of caydes body. My body trembles with the adrenaline finally leaving my system.

His chest still rises and falls, his exo body's mimic of a heart beat still reaches my ears. Home. For the first time in 5 years, We are both home.

A blue light on my bedside catches my eye. A ghosts eye, 2 of them, watch us. Midnight and sundance. The pillow I keep on the bedside cabinet once for both midnight and sundance may seem unnecessary to some but our ghosts deserve a little love to. Midnight had always looked swammed by the pillow after sundance was blown to shards but now, seeing them both huddled up to one another as they to settle down, it feels like everything is finnaly settling into place.

Cayde-6 the once dead hunter vanguard, friend and lover was finally back where he rightfully belonged.

Home.

Our home.

[deadbydad-writes]

More Fem! Reader x Character Prompts I Will Write Requests For!

Here is the first post I made with more information/rules and other characters I will write for! POST

Miguel O'Hara (Spider-Man Across The Spider-Verse)

Miguel confronts you after you almost get hurt or killed during a mission

You surprise Miguel at work

First meetings (You can add any details on how you want this to happen in the request)

Miguel teaches you how to speak Spanish

You flirt with Miguel while sparring/training

First mission with Miguel

Gwen Stacy (Spider-Man Across The Spider-Verse)

Rooftop adventures with Gwen!

Gwen shows you how to play the drums

Gwen tells and/or shows you that she is Spider-Women

You meet Gwen's dad

Gwen stays the night over at your place after a tough mission

Breakdancer! Reader dances with Ballet Dancer Gwen

Tifa Lockhart (Final Fantasy)

You work at Tifa's bar!

Love confession (Can be as dramatic as you want just add any details you want in the request)

You and Tifa box

A nice walk through Sector 7 at night

You save Tifa during the Don Corneo mission (You can add any detail of the dress that you want the reader to wear if you want in the request)

You and Tifa babysit Marlene together

Jill Valentine (Resident Evil)

You confront Jill when she gets injured

You treat Jill's wounds

You and Jill do target practice together

You comfort Jill after she has a nightmare

Dinner date with Jill

Domestic morning with Jill (You can add whatever to this like what the breakfast is or whatever like that in your request if you want)

Crow (Destiny 2)

Crow asks you about what Uldren Sov was like

First time meeting Crow

Confessions during a nightly patrol

You and Crow trade scar stories *Basically the stories behind battle scars* (You can add the story of a scar in your request if you want to)

Late night conversation while cleaning weapons and/or armor (You can add any ideas for the conversation you have in the request)

You and Crow watch a meteor shower together (You can add any ideas you want in the request)

Miles Morales (Spider-Man Across The Spider-Verse)

Miles draws a picture of you

You find out that Miles is Spider-Man

Daily patrol together

You meet Miles' parents and have dinner with them

Miles tries the shoulder touch on you

Miles flirts with you in Spanish (You can send any Spanish terms you would like in the request if you want to)

I will make more of these at some point in my life

And to those who have put in requests before this, I am writing them but I am mostly focusing on a different project plus I am with my mom and little sister this summer so I am busy a lot!

[seigephoenix]

The Not Finale 1

Since The Final Shape has been released for a while now, I can finally post Siobhan's journey through it. I do have a story coming that's going to show her past with Crow/Uldren but it's a slow process. I wanted to go through this story as the Final Shape brought up a lot of emotional shit for Siobhan. It'll be like 4 parts (maybe)

Art is by: @/commander-sarahs-art

Content Warning: grief, heavy loss mentioned, trauma is explored and worked through, game typical violence, surgical stuff is mentioned in somewhat detail

Siobhan looked down at her ship’s console as she flew towards the Traveler, her fingers tapping the keys needed to land the ship in a dance committed to memory.  She’d answered Nevia's call for help when the Witness threatened the Traveler, together to the end.  They’d faced down countless enemies of the Traveler together.  Nothing could break their bond.  Siobhan sighed and leaned forward, resting her forearms on the steering column of her ship.  She’d always come if Nevia called, even if it did require her to face him again.  She hated thinking of that last confrontation but it haunted her nightmares.  The ice and venom in those golden eyes would remain in her memory for a long time, but she deserved every bit of that betrayal and ire.  She closed her eyes as they approached the coordinates.  Unwittingly the memory of that argument rose up in her mind, her lips thinning as their voices played in her head.

You knew who I was this entire time!?  Did it make you laugh to see what had been done to me?  The abuse hurled at me?  Sneering at how naive I was to trust you.  You, the one who killed me.

I didn't do it on purpose Crow!  Being a Guardian means you get a clean slate with your life!  None of your past deeds are weighed against you!  Why do you think Commander Zavala extended his hand?  He’d never have done that if he didn’t understand that our past sins have no bearing on us as Guardians!!  And I never laughed at you!  Not once!  I was glad you got that second chance!  You deserved it!

You mock me still?  I remember the cold look in your eyes when you pulled the trigger.

Then your memory is fucking faulty!  I begged you, begged you to stop!  I pleaded with you to come with me!!  I'd drop everything I was to join you and help you find your sister!  I made a fool of myself but it didn't matter.  Only your obsession did!  That damned corruption took over and the Uldren Sov I knew was no longer there.  So yes, I pulled the trigger.  I chose my duty over love!  Do you not think I've tortured myself these all these years over it?  No one can make me feel worse than I make myself.

Quit with the excuses.  I don't want to see you any longer.

Done.

Siobhan sighed as she remembered Arawn transmatting her to the ship despite Glint's protesting.  She'd kept her word.  To the Vanguard's alarm, Siobhan kept herself to a self-imposed exile.  Her Fireteam had new partners they had watching their backs, they didn’t need her.  She did feel a little bit bad about leaving them, but both had understood her reasonings.  Nevia never understood but Siobhan never told her about the confrontation.  Siobhan knew Nevia had come to her own peace regarding Crow and what his actions as Uldren did.  Siobhan just couldn’t bring herself to tell Nevia what she and Crow argued about that day.  She was too ashamed.  Deep down she knew no one would understand, they’d argue she could’ve found a way to save Uldren, to not pull the trigger.  Siobhan couldn’t shake the thoughts and the guilt she harbored weighed her soul down.  “Well Arawn.  Hopefully Crow can put aside his feelings on the matter so we can work together.  He certainly didn’t keep that argument of ours quiet.  Did you see we got an email from the queen herself?”

“I remember.  She said that the Awoken people forgave you for killing Prince Uldren.  Didn’t she?”  Siobhan nodded and scoffed at the memory.  As if she needed an email like that.  From her memories of her past life, she understood it was Mara’s way of trying to assuage the guilt she carried.  Mara had always treated her with respect as Selene, and that extended to Siobhan now.  She still didn’t have to like the pandering that went into the email as Siobhan understood there was no way to truly forgive her.  She’d taken away Uldren.  Siobhan knew the anger lingered deep within Mara for that move even knowing how much the act tortured Siobhan’s soul.  “Be nice.”

“Look, I don't hate her.  I never did hate the woman.  I only said those names to rile up Uldren and it worked.  I just don't trust her.” Siobhan sighed and looked up as her ship pulled up next to Nevia's.  The ever familiar decals of the Queen of Hearts were as familiar as her own ship.  Siobhan smiled when she heard Nevia’s voice over the comm line.  “Here we go.”

“Ready?”  Siobhan shook her head as Nevia's face appeared on the screen.  They were both apprehensive about this mission, how could they not?  A direct threat to their Light was here, one that was stronger than any foe before them.  They’d faced down gods, fought for their Light, fought without it, had stood time and time again against the Traveler’s enemies.  Each time they’d come out of it, each bearing a new scar from it whether it was on the body or the soul.  This time…  Siobhan had a gut feeling she wasn’t going to make it out of this one intact, and she felt at peace with it.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. And with that, I mean no but I will do it anyway.”  Nevia’s answer resonated within Siobhan and they looked towards the pulsing heart of the Traveler.  She did find a smile tugging at her lips.  This reminded her of the time they went to Oryx’s dreadnaught.  They seemed to always face the impossible tasks together, with a few minor exceptions.  Siobhan wouldn’t have it any other way.  There was only one woman she ever wanted by her side if it came down to their last fight, and that was Nevia.  For her and for her fireteam, Siobhan would claw her way to the end.  No matter the cost.

“Off we go then.  To the end together?”  Siobhan didn't recall when they started using that phrase with each other.  It was a promise, to her at least, to always stick together.  Thick or thin, Light or no, nothing would tear their bond apart.

“Together.”

In the Heart of the Traveler

Siobhan huffed as her feet touched down inside the heart.  She was mildly irritated at the loss of her ship but understood it was a necessary sacrifice.  She looked around her and the quiet unnerved her.  Siobhan expected the inside of the Traveler to be tranquil and the quiet serene.  She could sense the underlying Darkness like an oily aftertaste.  It twisted her stomach and her irritation at the Witness snapped to the forefront of her mind.  She wouldn’t let that bastard get to the Traveler.  Arawn floated by her head as she continued on, hoping to get to the meet up point with Nevia.

“Ah geez, I hate being separated.  But we needed to cover more ground,” Siobhan grumbled as she marched across the former landing of the old Tower.  She remembered these grounds so well, the many times she ran from trouble, the day she got back from the Black Garden, walking along after the Vault of Glass.  The first time he’d held her hand had been here, and the first time he’d said how he felt about her without all the jokes.  She could still picture his face in her mind, even after all these years.  Some said that the faces of those lost would fade from memory, but Siobhan could still see Emyr’s face.  The quick grin had had for everyone, the quicksilver eyes that crinkled at the edges when he smiled.  Siobhan never forgot the way he held out his hand to her whenever she was feeling down.  Heya short stack, what’s got that mopey look on your face?  Her heart clinched at the memory and she struggled to tamp down on the burning lump in her throat.  Still too painful to think about, even after all the years later.  “Ah look at me, getting all sad because the Traveler crafted this from memory,” Siobhan laughed and looked up at the sky.  “I wish you could bring him back too…”  Arawn floated beside her struggling to find a way to comfort his Guardian when he realized they were getting a call.

“Siobhan.  Chia told me that Cayde is here.” Siobhan paused mid-step and looked at her Ghost.  She jerked her head towards the sky before back to her Ghost.  Did the Traveler hear her or something?  If so, she didn’t mean Cayde, but…  Siobhan knew it was entirely unlikely that her words brought Cayde back, not when she had another face in her mind.  Except.  She knew what this would mean to Nevia, and if it brought something of a smile to Nevia’s face then Siobhan would gladly have Cayde take her wish.  Though, logically, she knew that her thoughts didn’t bring him back.  Still, how in the hell was Cayde alive?  And more importantly, why was he in the Traveler?  Was that where all Guardians went after they died their final death?

“What!?”  Arawn nodded and relayed what Chia told him.  “Well geez.  They'll need some privacy for sure.  I guess we can head on for a little bit and then wait.  Ugh, what a sticky situation this turned out to be.  Wait, is Crow with them?” Arawn shook his head and she let out a frustrated groan.  That meant only one thing.  Given his history of doing reckless shit in the past.  Conveniently forgetting her own dumb stunts, Arawn wanted to add.  “Which means he’s gotten into stupid shit.”

“Are we going to have to rescue him?” Arawn asked as Siobhan kicked at a rock out of pure exasperation.  The sound of it pinged throughout the entire area and she wanted to scream.  She didn’t want to.  The man hated her, for good reason, and she had to work with him.  With Nevia and Cayde having their reunion and whatever unbidden feelings come up from that…  The entire thing was going to be awkward.  Siobhan wanted to whine about it all, she hated being confronted with her feelings and guilt and all the complicated relationship crap.  In the end, she knew what the answer would be and she groaned out loud.

“Yes,” Siobhan whined as Arawn laughed.  “Don’t laugh at me.  Well, whatever.  Do we have a read on his coordinates?”

“No, but I am picking up something from Glint.  Patching it through.”  Siobhan listened and shook her head.  Exactly like a fucking Hunter.  She didn’t quite approve of him leaving Glint out, but understood his hesitation for Glint’s safety.

“Reckless shit.  What did I tell you?” She shook a fist towards the sky.  “Relay the message to Chia, will you?  I'll meet them at the coordinates.”  Arawn agreed and sent the location to Chia.  He and his Hunter headed out to go rescue Crow.

After Reuniting Crow and Glint

Siobhan stepped away as they all spoke, just being close to him was enough to have her bristling.  Especially when he kept looking over at her, it wasn’t her fault they were going to be working together.  If anything, he could pin it on the Witness for forcing her to be here.  She would simply go where she was pointed, that would be the most ideal solution to this shitshow.  She huffed at her own despondent thoughts, those never got her anywhere.  Siobhan leaned against a rock with her eyes scanning the horizon for any traces of the Witness’s forces.  A sparkle caught her eye and she focused on a little ghost shell, one that looked too much like Byron’s.  As she reached for it, a sudden suffocating darkness swallowed her up.  Her senses were dulled as if she was drowning in a sea of clouds.  “Ah piss.”  She held the side of her head as she waited to see what the Witness would say, Siobhan didn’t think it would be anything else besides that smarmy bastard.  As if she was in the mood to hear whatever bullshit he was going to give her.

“I can grant you what you desire.”  She saw the image of herself and Uldren in front of her and the sight had her belly clenching in dread.  She sat with her legs crossed, lounging on the decadent throne with Crow kneeling beside her, her hand held in his as if in reverence.  The sight was enough to turn her stomach.  “He shall be utterly devoted to you.”

“Piss off.” Siobhan snapped and she sensed the surprise.  Did the Witness think they’d take whatever it offered?  Like some eager puppy dogs eager to please a master?  She wanted to put a bullet in the image in front of her, the urge to run clawed at her heart like a raging beast.  “Like I haven't been tempted before.  I'll give it to you for being original but fuck right on off with your bullshit.”  She heard the Witness hiss in displeasure and heard Arawn fight back against it.  The cracking sound coming from her Ghost’s shell alarmed Siobhan and she reached for him as he floated down after shattering the illusion the Witness crafted.  She cradled her Ghost to her chest, keeping him safe from any threat.  She ran her thumb over his shell and tears welled in her eyes as she saw how much pain he was in.  Arawn was the best part of her and to see him like this, it drove a spear through her soul.  Nevia crouched by her side, calmly placing her hand on Siobhan’s shoulder.  “Oh Arawn, you shouldn't have done that.  It cracked your shell.”

“I'll be alright.  I didn't want it to hurt you.”  Siobhan smiled at Arawn and let him disappear inside her Light to rest.  She turned to Nevia and saw the concern for her in her friend’s face.  She rubbed the back of her neck as she tried to think of what to tell Nevia.  Her eyes darted back over to Crow and Cayde before she decided to be cagey about what exactly she saw.  No one needed to know that.

“Ah, the Witness tried to tempt me.  I wasn't buying it though.” Siobhan waved her hand dismissively and tensed her shoulders when she heard Crow approach.  What was he going to say to her now?

“You shouldn't be so flippant about the Witness.”  Siobhan moved her lips as if mocking Crow, earning a stern look from Nevia to which she only huffed in return.  Siobhan crossed her arms and turned her head away from both Nevia and Crow.  She was allowed to be childish and immature in this case.  She did give Nevia a sideways glance when the other Hunter patted her shoulder.

“Flippancy is how I deal with stressful situations.  Arawn’s shell is cracked thanks to his fighting back against the Witness’s power.  I don’t know if I can fix that and what kind of pain my partner is going through.  Pardon me if I do what I can to cope.”  Nevia laid a hand on her shoulder, but Siobhan jerked it away.  She didn’t need to hear any lectures about her attitude.  Not now and not when it came to Crow.  She’d done everything he wanted when it came to staying out of his way.  “I'll be waiting over here for the plan.  Before I go though.”  Siobhan walked over to Cayde only stopping when the toes of her boots bumped his.  She narrowed her eyes at him in warning.  His optics flared in alarm at the look on her face, he knew that look well.  He also knew what followed it usually.

“Now wait, I already got an earful and a headache from those two.”  Cayde pointed before he held up his hands.  As if that was going to stop her.  He yelped when Siobhan kicked his shin.

“That is for making Nevia sad.”  Siobhan turned on her heel and walked away leaving Cayde shaking his leg out to ease the sting.  He sighed as he knew he deserved it and likely more for what he’d made everyone go through.  Nevia and the Vanguard weren’t the only ones affected by his death and he knew the burden this Hunter carried as Nevia told him Siobhan had avenged him.  What kind of wound did that put on her soul?

[crow-posting]

A doodle based on my previous post. My Young Wolf is just as opinionated as I am, lol.

[image text:

"Crow = cinnamon roll"

"Nightmare Uldren = sin-namon roll"

"Uldren Sov = prissy prince EVIL!!"

"Uldwyn Sov :( I miss him :( :(" ]

[kaz-identified]

houseofmcallister presents

Almost (Sweet Music)

Pairing: Crow x Young Wolf , slight/implied Uldren Sov x Young Wolf

Category: One-Shot

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Rating: 13+

Warnings: No major warnings apply

Word Count: 926

Summary: I’m almost me again, he’s almost you…

name faolan and she/her pronouns used for young wolf, in accordance with old mcallister fics.

author's note: this fic hinges on my deeply held belief that the young wolf and uldren were friends. also hozier inspired so like yay pain.

I laugh like me again, she laughs like you.

Crow is quiet when she approaches. Her eyes are concerned. It's rare to see Faolan without her helmet. It's even rarer to see her look this... disheveled. Her eyes, normally so bright and full of light, eyes like a stormy sky, are downcast, dark. The only light in her eyes was the Void twinning around her pupil, granting her a second sight, Truesight, she calls it.

She falls down on the bench beside him. Her hair is a mess, dirt and gunsmoke smudge her face.The white X across her face, her beloved warpaint, has been rubbed off in places. She's really out of it. The Nightmares took a real toll on her, huh? Maybe now isn't the time to do this... maybe another ti-

"The nightmare- he's wrong, by the way. I don't blame you for what he did."

OK, so they're doing this now.

"I- didn't think he was right..." Crow says quietly. "Don't lie to me, birdbrain," she looks up at him. God, she looks so tired. There's a triumphant glint in her eyes but she looks exhausted. "You're bad at it. Uldren was too," she chuckles. He flinches the smallest bit, but stops himself from making any visible reaction. Uldren was her friend, she's speaking of him fondly right now... he doesn't want to interrupt that. Some other perspective of who he was, a perspective that isn't how he was a murderer.

"He was?" Crow questions, his tone the kind you use for a scared animal, trying not to scare off this chance for information. Faolan swipes at the bridge of her nose, wiping away some gunpowder. "Oh yeah. Big time. He could keep secrets so well but that pride of his made it so he couldn't lie well. You could always tell, he'd grit his teeth a little bit." She smiles at the memory. Crow smiles at her smiling. "What was I- he... like? Outside of... you know." Faolan sighs. "You don't wanna know about that, Crow. You have the memories. You know what he was like." Crow shakes his head. "I don't want to know how he perceived himself I... I wanna know what he was actually like." Faolan lets out another sigh, a deeper one, and looks up at him. "He was a bastard. There's no two ways around it. Uldren Sov was, pardon my language, he was a cunt. He was a smug motherfucker that thought he knew best and everyone else was a little stupid. He was kinda right about that... as far as it went with me."

"You? Stupid?" He asks, laughing a bit.

"I was a New Light! Greener then you. Real wet behind the ears. Uldren liked to make fun of me for that, but I learned a lot from him. When he wasn't being a piece of shit he was-" she cuts herself off, looking down.

"He was..?" Crow prompts. "He was my friend," Faolan says, quietly, almost... almost reverent. "I trusted him. I looked up to him a bit, I won't lie to you," she says with a half-laugh. Crow looks at her in shock. He had thought she would have hated him. "Hunting him was... the hardest thing I've ever had to do." She finally meets his gaze. She looks like she's on the brink of tears. "Losing Cayde was the worst day of my life. But having to kill my friend? I don't think I'll ever do anything worse than that..." she barely even whispers it.

Crow resists the urge to wipe her tears from her face, it hurts him to see her like this. She should never cry, it's like seeing the sun be blotted out, its horrifying. She should always be smiling and joyful, always be able to be grinning and cracking jokes. He hopes he never sees this again, hopes she never feels anything that makes her cry again, she deserves to be joyful forever.

"I don't... I don't blame him for what happened," she says, finally looking up, wiping away at her own tears. "He wasn't himself, Riven got her claws in him. My Uldren would've said something other than bullshit when I shot him," she says with a choked laughing sob. Crow feels his heart stop for a second. 'My Uldren'... he knows she means nothing by it, nothing besides to say the man she knew but... some part of him, some part of him that holds Uldren's memories feels something intense when she says that.

She looks down at her hands. "You remind me of him, how he was when we were in the field. When he wasn't being a jackass." She looks up at him and smiles so softly. "You aren't the same person, not at all but... you have his face and you have the heart he tried to pretend he didn't have. That means something." She rests her head against the wall, smiling at the ceiling. "It's nice to know that... you're not him but, the best parts of him are still here, in you. The parts I-" she cuts herself off, yawning. "The parts you...?" Crow asks. "The parts of him I respected." She answers. She smiles at him. "You're like... what he could've been." Crow smiles back. "You think so?" She rests her head against the wall again. "I know so. And I think you do too. Now can we be quiet for a bit? I am... so tired." "Of course, of course," he says, hushing himself. "Sleep well, Old Light." "Shut up, Birdbrain," she mumbles, but she's smiling.

i was listening to the torture dance song while formatting this there are now two songs associated with this fic and only one of them makes sense.

ao3: houseofmcallister main account: houseofmcallister buy me a coffee!

Don’t repost my work or I’ll eat your shoulder blades! I do not consent to my works being used for AI training purposes.

[phantomwarrior12]

Forgotten Wounds

It's a rare thing to have a wound the Light cannot mend - to rise from the tingling whirlwind of a rez and still see a mar along one's form.

There are scars Guardians choose to bear as reminders…and there are these. Wounds bound so firmly in trauma, they linger because the body decides it should. That guilt, that agony? Carved into their skin for all eternity.

Lord Shaxx does not bear many like that.

But in the cool glass before him, there is a mark; a jagged, angular, oddly clean divet along his left pectoral just over his heart that has lingered through countless revives. His fingertips trace reverently along the edges, as if the gesture itself will spark a memory. But even as he trails over that distinct softness that all new scars bear, he realizes nothing comes to mind. He feels he should remember its source vividly - surely it was important?

It was his heart after all.

Perhaps a failure during the Dark Ages? The death of what he'd called a friend? Perhaps at Twilight Gap? They lost a great many Guardians then. But the placement feels wrong.

When had he been wounded through the chest?

"Shaxx?"

The Warlord draws his focus from the reflection in the mirror, recalling exactly where he is and who enters their room a moment later merely by the sound of her voice.

The Young Wolf breaks into a smile as she crosses the threshold. Her eyes immediately drifting over the Titan's half-naked form appraisingly as she makes her way up to him.

Shaxx always enjoys her gaze and it's enough to unfurl him from his deliberating hunch. His arms extend, drawing her close once she's within reach as he does so often. It's second nature for them. Her return requires immediate contact and a delay in whatever task.

In this case, the task is menial and he's more than happy to redirect his focus to his partner.

"Guardian. I didn't know you'd returned."

"I just got in." She hugs him then, arms stretched up to bind around his neck and her head settles exactly atop the scar Shaxx had been inspecting.

…could it have come from her? One of her nightmares?

No. She's held blades to his throat in her panic but she's never struck. If she had, she wouldn't be nearly as…open. She'd withdraw like a scared animal, terrified of harming him again.

He knows his partner too well for anything less of an observation.

But when she draws back, the Guardian presses a sweet kiss to the scar before looking up at him warmly. She must see his intrigue because her head tilts as her brow furrows.

"What is it?"

"I'm afraid this question comes as an embarrassment, but do you remember the source of that scar? It seems…I've forgotten and it troubles me."

The Warlord watches as she straightens, resting a hand just shy of the scar as her eyes soften. Her thumb traces the edge, a distant look overpowers her usually sharp gaze.

"I don't know precisely how it happened…but it was there when I returned from the Dreaming City after Petra and I hunted down Uldren Sov. You were…a bit distracted. I came home, you helped me remove my armor and you weren't wearing a shirt."

Yes, he remembers that part. He'd been worried about her - that she'd come home in someone's arms as she had carried Cayde home the same way.

He'd been so relieved, as if–

His eyes fall to the scar, gazing steadily at it in the mirror beside them.

No. We can't…manifest wounds, can we?

"You never told me how it happened and when I tried to press? You told me not to worry, that I was home and that was all that mattered." She finishes softly.

He can feel her gaze on him; the quiet, curious, searching gaze she bears so often. Her touch is warm and tender as she continues her trace over the mark in his skin.

Lord Shaxx does not recall that portion of the conversation nor his dismissal of her concern. He remembers a great pain in his chest subsiding then but he'd always thought it was just…emotional. That he'd been relieved she has home.

He is rarely out of armor. When he is, he's in bed with her, the lights are off and it is not his own body he memorizes.

Could it have been more?

Is such a thing possible?

"Shaxx?" She says his name so softly, so tentatively, it surprises him. His eyes find hers in the mirror - patient, warm, and perhaps a twinge of sympathy.

"Do you…not remember how it happened, my Titan?"

There is no other plausible explanation.

"I think, perhaps, I know the answer." He returns thoughtfully, "But it is…something unprecedented."

The Young Wolf smiles, her head turning away from the mirror. He watches her fingers hook along his chin and guide his focus to her beyond the mirror.

"When have we ever been anything but unprecedented?" She asks with a teasing smile yet there is a degree of solemness in her gaze. As if she understands what he hasn't uttered.

Her absence had harmed him. Her self-destructive spiral that avenged Cayde nearly broke her Warlord.

But instead of pulling away, the Guardian steps up to him. She kisses the mark again; a slow, tender gesture that flutters Shaxx's heartbeat.

When her head lifts, there is something like adoration in her eyes.

"I'll make sure you never endure one of these again. That you'll look in that mirror and see only what you recognize." She assures him firmly.

He registers the twinge of Solar against his skin, her palm flush against his pectoral. His own hand lifts, cupping hers with a familiar tenderness only the two of them share.

"You will be as you are. The Guardian. The City's Last Hope. Our Savior." His head lowers, resting his forehead against hers as they both relax into the moment, into Shaxx's words.

"Let me worry about the matters of my heart. You act as you always have - as the Young Wolf. As our protector."

"I will."

—

Forevers: @halo-2 @reaped-winnower @forgotten-by-the-stars @sugarcoated44 @cayde-6 @aetosavros​ @niemands-bibliothek @paracausal-hunter @silverhandsamurais @orbdotexe

Shaxx's Guardians: @ataraxia101 @squirrel-stars @scattershotmind