#this is the dark age they don’t know vanguards

[destiny2skeleton]

♠️’ ‘ the fuck is a vanguard-?’’

🦜*Shrug*

-🦜

Hello, this is the first time I’ve contacted you, so you don’t know me, but many of our enemies do…

Just checking to see if you and Cayde are doing alright. Well, as alright as you two can be doing, given the circumstances.

-Sincerely, ☀️🌑

Why do you ask…?

.

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

OK, people were very nice to me yesterday about my latest absurdly niche blorbo: Guthláf of Rohan. I wrote a little story about him (it's below and it's only 500ish words). But I feel like I can't post it in isolation without explaining myself a little better first.

The fact that he's Théoden’s banner bearer is the only detail about Guthláf’s life in the canon. But just that by itself was enough to grab my interest because I took a class on ancient warfare in college, and one of my major takeaways was that the flag bearers were often the bravest and most selfless guys in a battle. They were highly visible, highly vulnerable, and highly prized as a target for the enemy. That's not an encouraging combo, and they had an appallingly high casualty rate. And yet, the ones who pursued it did so willingly and considered it an honor!

Although Guthláf's name literally means "battle survivor", he did not avoid the flag bearer’s usual fate. He’s listed among the fatalities at the Pelennor Fields (along with Halbarad, the only (?) other named flag bearer in the books). So I wrote the drabble-ish story below about Guthláf’s experience of his own terrifying job. (I also, of course, have a full head canon about his personal life—how he spoke Rohirric with a rural accent that stood out in Edoras, how the early loss of his family drove him toward recklessness, how he was maybe in love with fellow obscure blorbo Wídfara, etc.—if anyone is interested! And I decided that he's the tall, blonde drink of water on the left below, who I believe is otherwise unnamed and is too young to be Elfhelm or Erkenbrand.)

Anyway. Story (ish) here:

Alone among his éored, Guthláf carries no weapon. In his left hand, he holds his shield, his one and only means of protecting himself; in his right, he carries his banner, a charging white horse on a field of deep green that whips furiously in the cold wind above his head.

Alone among his éored, Guthláf does not strike blows. His war is fought not with strength of arms but with strength of spirit. He has only to keep himself going long enough to let his banner do its work. To signal the direction of the charge and mark the vanguard of the attack. To be the rallying point around which scattered troops coalesce. To lead the way, like a torch in the dark, so that those behind know where to follow. He has only to keep that banner flying, set high and stark against the cool blankness of the winter sky, so that every Rohirrim heart can see that they are yet unconquered, that victory still lies ahead.

Alone among his éored, Guthláf can never hide or blend in. His banner draws the eyes of foes just as easily as friends. His every move is visible. Noted. Tracked. Hunted. The hope he kindles in his fellow riders is equaled by the hatred he inspires in their enemies, and there is no greater blow such an enemy can strike than to bring him down, to achieve with the death of one man the turning of a tide that can change the fate of thousands.

Alone among his éored, Guthláf has no hope that he will survive unscathed to see old age. Banner bearers don’t last long in times of war, and Guthláf is his éored’s fourth bearer in five years. He has only to walk the streets of Edoras to be confronted with the reality of how the lucky banner bearers end their days–empty sleeves tied up where an arm used to be, angry red scars across unprotected faces and necks, canes and crutches that will never fully compensate for crushed legs, twisted spines, shattered hips. The unlucky ones end instead in hastily raised barrows, resting eternally in the sometimes distant and friendless lands where they finally slid from the saddle, bloodied and broken and desperately looking for a loyal hand into which they could pass the banner before everything went dark at last.

And yet, Guthláf wanted this job. He fought for this job. It means everything to him. Because even as he rides to his death, charging into battle on his gray warhorse with his banner streaming brilliantly in his wake, he has never felt more alive. He has never felt so much bigger than himself. When he carries his banner, he is no longer just Guthláf, son of Hulac. He is instead the spirit of Helm, and Eorl, and Frumgar and all the great warriors of old. He is the sound of thousands of hoofs thundering together across an open plain. He is the sight of the jagged white peaks towering over the lush green and gold grasses of the Mark. He is Rohan itself, not just a man but an idea. And an idea can never be slain. When he carries his banner, Guthláf becomes immortal.

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Where do I begin ?

Songfic!

Alastor x Fem! Reader

Nav !

Note : For context, Alastor & the reader are the same age. Both born 1900. The last two digits of the year is basically their age.

Warnings: Mentions of Racism, Pinning ( mutual ), swearing, 1920’s - 1930’s, Warning: sexual assault, mentions of killing, cannibalism

tags: @littlebatsimagines

Song by : Shirley Bassey

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Where do I begin

To tell the story of how great a love can be?

The sweet love story that is older than the sea

The simple truth about the love he brings to me

Where do I start?

1913 : 8th Grade Lunch Date

“ He definitely likes you Y/n.” My friend says as we sit at the table eating our lunch. On one side of the field, are tables for the white kids. On the other side, are little spots of cement where the colored kids sit. In the middle, is a lot of grass, where there’s a large tree in the middle. Under said tree, is Alastor, the schools outcast, but one of the smartest kids out there. Alastor stuck out like a sore thumb, poor thing was never dark enough to sit with the colored kids, but the white kids never wanted anything to do with him because he was mixed.

White father, black mother. It was the talk of the town when his momma was pregnant. When he was born, it was all anyone would do. As time went on, he joined the local school, and studied hard. He didn’t have many friends, and everyone always stood away from him. Regardless, he always wore that lovely smile that his teachers praised him for. He was a good kid, just not with the right crowd.

“ I don’t know. He doesn’t seem like he does.” I said, before my friend rolled her eyes, taking her lunch out of her bag.

“ Well even if he doesn’t, best not talk to ‘em again. Y’know your daddy will have you at it if he finds out you been talking to a colored boy.” My friend says, giving me that ‘ don’t do nothing stupid’ look. At that , I stare over at him, watching him eating his lunch. Around him is a small blanket, napkins and forks and knives being used ad he eats his lunch, and I smile to myself as he enjoys his meal.

“ I know I know. I’ll be fine, and he will too. We just don’t need to talk to each other.” I said, taking a bite of my sandwich.

“ Or you could give that fella a chance.” She said, before nodding her head over to one of the nearby tables.

Tommy, or also known as Thomas Vanguard. One of the richest white kids, despite our economy going down in flames.

“ Uh, I don’t really know.” I said, before she laughed.

“ Well too late, he’s already comin’ over.” She said, before my eyes widened. As I turned, I saw Tommy walking over. Oh please no. I was about to get up and walk away when I felt someone sit across from me on the bench. My friend and I turned in our seats to see who was there, it surely wasn’t Tommy.

Silence. The entire courtyard went silent.

Alastor was sitting at my table. Where all the white kids sat. Where colored kids couldn’t sit.

Until now.

“ AHH! Alastor sat at my table!” My lunch mate yelled, grabbing her lunch and running from our table. All the other kids gave the same reaction, running away to our fancy school building. I sat still, staring at him as everyone else ran away.

“ Hello.” I say, extending my hand out to shake. His eyes brightened, before he shook my hand eagerly. “ Momma says not to let people sit alone. “ I say, as I pick up my sandwich to continue eating.

“ Your momma sounds nice.” Alastor says, fixing his glasses. His skin is a caramel color, his brown hair swooped neatly to the sides and out of his face. His cheeks give a light blush, likely from the Louisiana heat.

“ I like to think she is. She can be mean sometimes though.” I say, chewing my food. Alastor smiles, before he continues his food as well. The lunch period goes smoothly from there out.

Even though the day after all the kids stood away from me because I was ‘dirty.’

Like a summer rain

That cools the pavement with a patent leather shine

He came into my life and made the living fine

And gave a meaning to this empty world of mine

He fills my heart

1915 : Highschool Newspaper

News: Black boys 12 and 13 lynched and hung at local park.

It’s all anyone’s talking about. Mainly because their brother’s been raging to the police since the whole thing happened. My best friend Mandy told me. Of course she would know, she’s his girlfriend. But no one knows.

It technically isn’t even allowed. A white girl with a black boy? It’s completely unheard of. But Mandy keeps it strictly secret. They’re never caught with one another, and even add extra arguments in public here and there to add some belief.

But I know it isn’t true. I also know that Alastor is gonna write an entire report down on it, and talk to me like if he’s one of those big fancy radio hosts I heart Tommy talk about during lunch.

“ My Daddy got my momma this cool radio, and it has this guy talking in it. It’s so cool, he sounds like a yankee.” Is usually what Tommy always says, and then he tells everyone what the radio guy says about the North.

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“ Oh M’ so sorry miss.” I hear, as I bump into someone. I stumble back and blink, pulling myself out of my daze.

“ Oh no no it’s alright. I wasn’t really paying all that attention.” I say, bending down to grab my fallen books. The boy in front of me does the same, to help me.

“ Y/n?” I hear a few feet away from me. I turn my head to find my teacher.

“ Are my cheaters cheatin me or am I seeing a colored boy with one of my students?” She asked, clearly confused. I felt my blood race, before my books were shoved into my hands.

“ I was just going to the principals office miss. Please don’t mind me.” The boy said, before my teacher rolled her eyes at him.

“ If you people would’ve been raised better maybe I wouldn’t have a problem with you.” She said before pulling a cigarette out from her pocket and lighting it. The boy lowered his head before quickly squeezing between the two of us to get by.

“ M’ sorry Misses, really was my mistake.” He said quietly as he left. When he was gone, she blew out the smoke from her cigarette.

“ Now you listen to me girl, and you listen good.” She said, pointing at me. “ Stay away from those colored folk. You never gonna be on their level so don’t try to be. Now get to class.” She said.

Oh how my blood boiled.

He fills my heart with very special things

With angel's songs, with wild imaginings

He fills my soul with so much love

That anywhere I go, I'm never lonely

With him along who could be lonely?

I reach for his hand, it's always there

1917 : High school Dance

I don’t know if this is good enough. More importantly, I don’t know how I’m gonna be able to get into the dance without my parents finding out. Would they even let me into a colored folk dance? I don’t see why not.

“ Y/n are you ready to go?” Mandy asks me from my window. She’s hanging on for dear life while I scramble to find the lipstick I need. The lipstick he likes the most.

“ Yeah just a minute.” I said, going through my vanity as quietly as possible.

“ Aw, trynna get all dolled up for Al~?” She asked, wiggling her brows. I rolled my eyes and almost jumped out of my skin when I found the lipstick I needed.

“ Okay, let’s go.” I said, before she grinned. Off we were to the dance.

“ We made it!” Mandy said as she hugged her boyfriend, who despite having a rough year, was happy to be with her.

“ Thanks for comin’. Sure they won’t have a problem?” He asked Mandy, before she shook her head.

“ No they won’t. Right Y/n?” She asked, before I shrugged, looking around the courtyard for Alastor. The party for the colored kids had been in a more quiet side of town. But that didnt mean it was easy to find someone.

“ des fleurs pour la fille?” I heard, as flowers were placed in front of me. Red roses. Wrapped in a tight red ribbon, with white fabric holding it together.

“ I didn’t know you knew french.” I said, as my eyes widened, gently taking the flowers from his grasp. I was greeted with a kiss to my temple, and his hand resting on my lower back.

“ Of course. It’s in my mothers nature after all. I hope you do enjoy tonight.” Alastor said, before offering me his arm. I took hold of it and we began to walk to the party.

“ I love the flowers by the way, they’re beautifully wrapped.” I said, before he smiled.

“ Perfect. Saved up just enough." Alastor said with a wink.

" How much was it?" I asked, before Alastor laughed, pushing the door open to the run down barn, which was where the dance would be held.

" Oh don't worry about that dear, we're here to have fun not to worry about expenses." He said, before handing our tickets to a teacher, who eyed the both of us curiously.

" Honey you sure you in the right dance?" The woman asked, taking our tickets. I nodded with a smile, before Alastor led me to the dance floor.

It's two in the morning, and the street lights are dim. All the lights on the street are out, everyone's sleeping. The flowers are still in my hand, shoes in my other as Alastor and I walk down the street to my home, the dance ending after hours of fun.

" Did you enjoy yourself?" Alastor asks, before I nod, smiling wide.

" I've never had that much fun in my life. Thank you for letting me go." I say with a smile as we approach my front steps. I walk up the first few, as Alastor stands on the pavement. I turn, waiting for him to follow.

" Can I...?" He asks, gesturing to the steps. I nod, as he steps up to walk with me to my front door.

" I hate that things are like this." I say as we stop at my front door. Alastor smiles, a sad smile, as he fixes my hair.

" Things will get better. Promise." He said, before bending down to kiss my forehead. " I'll get a real fancy job, we'll get a nice house with a pretty little yard, and we can dance as much as you want." He said, smiling. I knew that smile, that smile that he gave when talking as if he was on the radio, or when he was talking about something good that had happened with his mother at work.

" You sure?" I ask, before he nods.

" Of course. We'll get away from here, far away. New Orleans, just us." He says, before he pulls me in for a hug. " Don't ever doubt it." Alastor says, before I hug him back, ignoring the teardrops that fall on my shoulder.

How long does it last? Can love be measured by the hours in a day? I have no answers now, but this much I can say I'm going to need him 'til the stars all burn away And he'll be there

1919: The first bite

Twelve stations. Twelve stations that said no to him. All giving the same answer.

" You think people gonna wanna hear a colored boy on the radio? You best be trynna trick me if you think for a second you comin' in here." Was what they would say, and every time Alastor would come home with that smile on his face, despite the break in his heart.

" Any luck?" I ask, as his mother sets his food on the table, which I hand him his glass of wine.

" No, not today." He says, before he cuts a piece of his steak. His mother and I share a look, pity of course, but she's also hurt.

" Baby those people don't know who they just said no too. You're a man full of talent." His mother says, reaching over to fix his hair. " Now you just keep trying, someone outta give you something." She said, before he just nodded, his smile faltering for a moment before he sighed.

" Thank you for the food.” He said, as he took his napkin and put it around his neck, tucking it into his shirt.

“ Of course honey.” His mother said, before she stood up. “ Oh I almost forgot.” She said, before walking out of the kitchen. I began to eat the food she made, while Alastor stared at the door in confusion.

“ How was work today dear?” Alastor asks, his usually smile appearing again. I smiled to him and took a sip of the wine.

“ It was alright, some people weren’t exactly happy with their food choices.” I said, as Alastor nodded.

“ I found it!” Alastor’s mother says as she comes back into the dining room. She smiles as she sets down a small box in front of Alastor.

“ You might wanna open it.” She said to Alastor, who stared at the box with a confused smile. He lifted the lid to the small box, before his eyes widened.

“ What’s this?” He asked, before she smiled and took her seat.

“ It was your grandmothers. I found it this morning.” She said, before he smiled. Alastor looked up at me, before turning the box to face me. Inside was a ring, a gold ring with a ruby in the middle, surrounded by little diamonds.

“ She took it from a family she was working for. Her contract was up but they hadn’t given her half of what they promised. So she took that as compensation. She really meant to sell it but she liked it so much she kept it.” His mother explained, before Alastor turned the box so he could look at it again. “ Well? What do you think?” His mother asks, before he turns to look at her. The two exchange a look I can’t quite place, but he shuts the box and puts it in his mothers hand.

“ It’s beautiful.” He said, before smiling to her, and then looking at me with a smile.

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“ Y/n, someone’s here to see you.” Mandy called to me, before I took my apron off. Working at the towns diner was not an easy job. But I was finally on my break.

“ Comin’” I said, before I pushed the door that led from the kitchen to the restaurant, walking around tables and people. “ Someone needed me?” I asked, as I approached the front desk, before Mandy pointed to the door. I turned around to see Alastor, standing there with a bouquet of flowers.

“ Oh, Alastor these are beautiful.” I say, walking over to him as he smiled. When I do reach him, he bends down to give me a kiss, before handing me the flowers. There are all sorts of flowers in the bouqet, some Asters, Carnations, Roses of course, Camellia’s, a few Calla Lily’s.

“ I'm taking you out for lunch.” He said, tapping the edge of my nose. Quickly, he helped me put my jacket on, and off we were to have a lovely lunch together, where I later found out, he had finally gotten a shot to have his own radio studio.

1922: Consequences

It all happened so fast. There was nothing I could do to stop him, to stop it from happening. One moment I had been in the bathroom at work and the next I'm on the floor in tears trying to get Tommy off me. Yet nothing worked.

" Mandy I don't feel so good. I'm going home." I say, grabbing as Tommy grins at me from his table with his friends. Mandy looks at me concerned before she just nods silently.

" Feel better Y/n." Mandy says, but it's too late. I'm already pushing the glass doors and out I am onto the sidewalk of the busy street walking myself home as quickly as possible. My legs are shaky, and I can barely breathe as I open my front door, and shut it behind me. I couldn't stop thinking about it, about what he'd done to me. I kick my heels off, sobbing as I throw my jacket to the ground, letting my hair down and making my way towards my bedroom.

How dare he? How dare he do this to me? Why couldn't I stop him? Why didn't I do something? Why didn't I say something? I should've fought back harder, done something, been stronger. I turn and shut the door to my bedroom, before finding a corner near my window to curl up in, hugging my knees to my chest as I feel myself collapse on the ground, the only thing I can think of being Tommy's words.

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( Events before leaving )

" If you were with me, you wouldn't need to work in this shitty diner." Tommy said, before I hear a click. I look up, staring at Tommy in the mirror.

" I actually like working here thank you very much." I say, before I move to dry my hands with a towel from my apron. Quickly, his hand grabs my shoulder to turn me around, before his hand is cupping the bottom of my chin, squeezing the sides of my face. He's angry.

" Don't give me an attitude bitch. Word's been flying 'round you been with that mixed guy. How's he treatin' ya' huh? Bet he beats you,-" Tommy said, before shoving my face to the side so hard I fall to the ground, putting my hands out to support me. No lunch, my wrist breaks. I cry out in pain, before Tommy grabs my hair to pull be up just enough to see my face.

" What? Not used to it? Those colored folk's aint got nothing better to do than beat their women. You ain't nothing special." He said, before he slapped me. I pushed myself up with my other arm, trying to hit him back, before his knee came in contact with my stomach, airing me out. " Now you just sit there and look pretty while I show you how a real man feels. Maybe then you'll get your senses straight, 'stead of bein' dirty." And then it happened. Bottoms torn off my legs, no matter how hard I kicked or tried to hit him, nothing. I couldn't do a damn thing. All while he had his way with me. Stupid son of a bitch.

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( author's POV )

Alastor opens the front door, sighing as he takes a step into his home, finally done with the day he had at work. It only when he steps on Y/n's jacket, that he realizes something is wrong. He takes a moment to stop, staying quiet. He hears something, and when he finally realizes what it is.

He. Is. Livid.

Alastor sets his belongings down on a nearby table, before he makes his way upstairs, as calm as he can possibly be. The closer he gets, the louder Y/n's sobs are.

" Darling? Are you alright?" Alastor asks, approaching their bedroom door. No response. But the sobs don't stop. He frowns, his body beginning to shake, his nerves getting the best of him. " I'm going to open the door." Alastor says, waiting a moment for a response, before he turns the handle to the door. He looks around for a moment, before he spots her sitting near the window, on the floor in the corner. She's holding the curtain in her hand, her face stuffed into it as she sobs. Alastor begins slow, walking towards her, studying her frame. It's only when he notices the harsh color of her wrist that alarms begin to go off in his mind. He kneels down, now in front of Y/n, before he speaks again.

" Y/n?" He asks. No response, just sobs. " Dear what happened?" He asks. At that, Y/n lifts her head to stare at him. It's then Alastor realizes that whatever did happen, was very serious. Alastor doesn't speak as his hands reach for Y/n's arms, slowly pulling her as he stands, before he brings her in for a hug. " Whenever your ready, I'm here to listen." Alastor said, before he felt Y/n's hand hold onto his side.

" It was e-earlier." Y/n said between breaths, obviously struggling to speak. Alastor pulled back and stared down at her, before he saw how red her neck was. Not just red though, there were hickie's. All over her neck, and a large hand print in the middle. Like if she was being choked. The sides of her face were bruised, harsh black and blues appearing on her skin. As Alastor continued to take her state in, he saw bruises on her arms as well.

" Who did this to you?" He asked, stern. She stared, unsure of what to say. There was this look on his face she couldn't describe. His aura grew darker the longer she took to answer, as Alastor began to trace over the marks on her skin with his fingertips lightly. It had taken her a second to register what he was doing.

He was securing it. Like reassuring himself they were real, that this, what was happening, was real.

" Y/n, Dear, who did this to you?" He asked again, losing his patience. His mind was running through all sorts of things, his mind focused on the amount of rage he felt.

" ... Tommy."

That was it. Y/n stood, unsure of what to do as she watched Alastor frame shake, like a shiver. As if he was cold. He wasn't. His skin was burning hot, and as he pulled Y/n into a hug she could feel the anger seeping off of him as she cried into his chest.

" Alastor I'm so so so sorry. I tried to stop him, I really did." She said, before she pulled away from him as Alastor looked down at her, shaking his head.

" Don't be sorry. This isn't your fault. He is disgusting, and you are beautiful. He wanted to ruin you, and you didn't let him." Alastor said, wiping away the tears that continued to fall from her eyes. " How did this happen?" He asks, his tone softer now as he pulled Y/n to sit on the bed as he walked towards their bathroom. Her wrist was swollen, Alastor had pretty much guessed it was either sprained or broken. Either way, Tommy was definitely going to be his next victim.

" Your arm dear." Alastor said, as he sat back down next to Y/n, an ice pack in one hand while wrapping her wrist with the other. " Now, tell me how it started." Alastor said, before Y/n took a deep breath before she began explaining.

" I had went to the restroom at work, some customer had spilled water on me, it was an accident though. I was washing my hands, and when I looked up in the mirror I saw Tommy there. He locked the door to the bathroom and started talking. He said something about me being with him and if I was I wouldn't have to work in that diner." Y/n said, before Alastor let out a 'mhm', signaling her to continue.

" I told him I actually liked working there, and he grabbed my face and told me not to disrespect him. He called me a bitch." Y/n said, before Alastor looked at her, stopping his motions.

".. continue." He said, before moving to press the ice pack to her wrist.

" T-then, he said that word had been goin' 'round that I was with a, as he put it, 'mixed guy', and then asked how that was going for me. Then he said he bets you beat me, and then he pushed me to the floor. That's how I hurt my wrist." She explained, before Alastor nodded at her to continue, moving to check for any cuts he might need to treat on her. " After he did that he was all like, 'What? Not used to it?' and then he said colored folks don't have anything better to do than beat their women. Then he said I wasn't anything special, and he told me to sit there and just look pretty while he showed me what a feels like. He said maybe then I would get my senses straight and stop being dirty..." Y/n said, leaving out the portion of him airing her out, to not get Alastor upset.

Alastor was silent for a moment. His mind mulling over the information he had just been given. Y/n had assumed he'd been calm enough to receive the extra information.

" While I was on the ground, he also hit me, with his knee... in my stomach..." Y/n said, nervous of Alastor's reaction. He didn't say much. He was quiet.

" I'll have a talk with him tomorrow. Take the rest of this week off, I want you here, and if you go out I want you with someone so you aren't alone. You need medical help right now, I'll talk to my mother since she isn't far." Alastor said, as he stood up, quickly putting things away.

" W-wait, can't we talk about this first? I don't want him to get in trouble he might try to hurt you-"

" Y/n, I don't give a damn about what he wants to do to me! It's the fact he's gotten to you, he's hurt you, and I wasn't there to stop him. No one was!" Alastor said, stopping in front of the bed. He was upset, so much so that a tear fell from his eye, before he wiped it away. Y/n stood from the bed, but never moved to Alastor.

" I can heal from this, we can move on. I just don't want this to be a big thing." Y/n said, before Alastor stood quiet.

" It won't be. Just, let me deal with it. Stay here, relax." Alastor said walking over to Y/n to run his hands down the sides of her arms. " I promise I won't make this a big ordeal. My mother should be by shortly after I speak wit her. Until then, get yourself comfortable, be careful with your write, and wait for me to get back, alright?" Alastor asked, before Y/n nodded.

" Alright. I love you." Y/n said, looking up at Alastor, waiting for him to say it back.

" I love you too darling."

1923: Fresh Start in the French Quarter

Tommy had opened his big mouth to the entire town about Alastor and Y/n's relationship. The entire town had shunned the both of them for it, Y/n's parents officially cutting her off for good, their suspicions being correct. After that christmas, Alastor and Y/n had began to take trips to New Orleans regularly, looking for a house to by. Alastor had gotten a better job, with much higher pay. Alastor had let Y/n choose whatever house she wanted, and when she finally settled on one, he also made sure to higher movers, and of course there's the paint job and furniture.

Though the cost was something Alastor would never allow her to see, the house made her happy, and that was more than enough for him. As he had told her, " Whatever my love wants, my love gets."

The neighborhood was nice, a lot of land was also nice too, aside from the grass growing extremely fast, but the man who would mow the lawn every week was nice so there was a plus. Y/n didn't need to work anymore, since Alastor made enough for the both of them to live comfortably. The lifestyle the two had changed over too had went from simple and comfortable, just barely making it by, to lavish and extravagant.

Since moving to New Orleans people had been kinder to the two of you. As well as the two of you getting married. It was a small wedding, consisting of Alastor's mother, Mandy and her husband Clarence. A few coworkers, Alastor's uncle who was just happy to be there. The people from his mother's church who had a great time at the afterparty.

Alastor never did tell you what he did to Tommy, but that was alright. He wasn't your problem anymore.

He fills my heart with very special things With angels' songs, with wild imaginings He fills my soul with so much love That anywhere I go, I'm never lonely With him along, who could be lonely? I reach for his hand, it's always there

1925: the first letter

(Y/n's POV )

" Honey could you get the mail for me? Hand's are all covered in dirt." Alastor said, before I nodded. I had walked to the front of the lawn to open our mailbox, pulling the papers out.

"Hm. Bills, bills, more bills, bills, and, a letter?" I stop. It's addressed to me. But the address is unfamiliar. I take the mail inside and walk to the dining room to open the letter. Alastor is in the mud room, removing the gardening equipment and dirt. I open the letter, before taking the pages out from inside. There's three pages, but all are covered in black ink. Except for the second page, with the words in the middle of the page reading.

Your Husband murdered the love of my life.

Silence. I don't know who this person is. I don't know where this letter is from. I don't know who this letter is from. They must have the wrong house. My husband would never kill anyone. As upset as he gets, he wouldn't hurt a fly.

" I think we can start on dinner now." Alastor said, as I slipped the letter back into the envelope.

" What do you wanna make tonight?" I ask as we both walk into the kitchen. Alastor moves to the freezer to grab out meat while I go through our cabinets to see what we have.

" Hm, what about Chili? Never hurt anyone, haven't had any in a while." He said, before I sighed.

" Chili is the worst thing to make though." I whine, before Alastor chuckles and sets the mean down on the island in the middle of the kitchen.

" Why don't we go out then? I get my chili, you don't need to help make it. How does that sound?" Alastor asks, before I smile.

" We can go see the band right?" I ask, before Alastor nods.

" If that's what you wanna do." He said with a grin, before I smiled and kissed his cheek.

" Get your dancin' shoes. Date night!" I say as I practically sprint out of the kitchen as Alastor laughs from his place in the kitchen.

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2 weeks later : Letter two

This letter is different. The first two pages are covered in black ink, the third page being the only one that has writing. It reads.

" I know you got my last letter. Your husband is a killer. Don't deny the truth." Right in the center of the page. My hands shake as I read it, before I shut the front door, locking it tight. I begin to walk around our house, the house we bought together. The house that we danced in together, cooked together, had gatherings together. Everything.

I came across his study, where I never really entered much, since I allowed it to be just him, his personal space. Like my own study, which was really more like a library since we had shared books in there. I opened the door, but never stepped in, curious as to what he would have hidden away. The door opens fully to reveal a minimalistic room. There are papers on his desk, a desk lamp, newspapers on the side, file cabinets, a radio, a journal. Wait, a journal? I never knew he had a journal.

I step into the room, making my way over to his desk, and reaching for the journal. I flip through the pages, skimming over the words, before something catches my eye.

Tommys name.

I continue to read, reading the journal and the pages that follow up until the very latest entry. I learn all sorts of things after reading this journal, and when I place it back down on the desk I want to run out of his study. But I don't. I put it down, exactly where I found it, and exit the room. Shutting the door tightly, and leaving the house all together. Just to walk. To clear my mind. After reading his journal I learn a number of things.

First, that Tommy is dead. Alastor killed him after Tommy assaulted me at work, and took the liberty of dismembering him and even cooking some of his intestines. Second, the meat that is stored in our freezer, the meat I've been eating for years, is from actual people. Their dead, cut up bodies are the things I've been preparing every night like it's the best thanksgiving turkey anyone's ever gonna eat. Third, his mother has been getting a good portion of his check every month. There isn't a problem with that, she's a lovely woman.

But, it was the most recent entry that made my spine tingle the most.

Alastor and I had never been intimate with one another. We both had our reasons, I had been saving it till marriage, but after Tommy I hadn't been comfortable with anyone ever potentially seeing me like that again, and Alastor had never tried so it just mutually never happened. There wasn’t an easy way to put it really, in some pages of the journal he had stated he wanted to show me how to kill, to take me with him for these murders. That it would get him, excited, to think about.

I guess this is the part where I call the cops. Tell them my husband is a cruel heartless killer, that he stores remains of these dead bodies in our freezer for us to eat.

But I won’t. I can’t. Because despite knowing all this. I still love him.

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That night: Dinner

( Author’s POV )

“ Dinner is served.” Y/n says, placing Alastor’s plate of food in front of him. He smiles as she leans down to kiss him on the cheek, fixing his handkerchief around his neck. She moves to her seat, across from him, and situates herself. Immediately, he begins to dig in, cutting away at the meat with a bloodlust look in his eye she had never noticed up until now.

“ I hope you enjoy it. Took a long time to season it properly.” Y/n said, as she began to eat as well, never once touching the meat on her plate.

“ Really? Did we not have enough spices? I can run out tomorrow and get some more if you need some.” Alastor said, before taking another bite out of his food.

“ No, we had enough spices. I just wanted to season it enough so I’m not distracted by the fact it’s from a human.” Y/n says, before putting a spoonful of food in her mouth. Alastor stops, frozen as if she was crazy. He’s silent, they both are. Alastor sits there tense, expecting police officers to round the corner of his home, he thinks this is it for him.

“ What are you talking about?” Alastor asks, before Y/n looks up at him from her seat.

“ I found your journal.” Y/n says.

“ You went into my study?” Alastor asks, trying hard to mask the annoyance in his voice. He fails.

“ Yes. I’ll tell you why.” Y/n says, before she pulls out two envelopes from behind her, tossing it towards Alastor as it slides across the table to him. He stares at them curiously, before he reaches forward to open it.

“ When did you get these?” Alastor said, losing his usual smile.

“ I got the first letter maybe, two weeks ago.” Y/n says, before Alastor’s eyes flicker to her’s for a second, before back down to the letters. “ I got the second one today. I’m sure there’s going to be a third.” Y/n says, not failing to notice Alastor’s grip on his knife tighten.

“ Why didn’t you tell me about this?” He asks, sternly.

“ I didn’t believe them. There was no reason to tell you if I didn’t believe it.” Y/n said, standing from her seat.

“ Y/n, did you… tell anyone?” Alastor asks, his eyes pleading with her. As if he was sorry. She knew he wasn’t.

“ Don’t look at me like that .” Y/n said, the pain in her voice obvious.

“ Did you?” He asks.

“ No. I didn’t.”

Silence. Neither one of them say a thing. Alastor stands from his seat, putting his knife down.

“ Do you hate me?” Alastor asks, refusing to look at her now. No response.

Y/n isn’t sure what to do. She’d figured he’d kill her by now.

“ Do you still love me?” Alastor asked, and the crack in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. Y/n hadn’t even realized she had started crying, and he was too. No response.

Alastor didn’t say anything after that. He left the letters on the table, before he exited the dining room. Y/n sighed, letting the tears fall. Y/n also exited the dining room, not sure where he could have gone. The house was huge, big enough to get lost in. Room by room, Y/n checked for him, now desperately trying to fix her mistake.

When Y/n made it to their bedroom, she found money sitting on their bed, all of his belongings gone. Was he leaving? Now the panic had set in.

“ Alastor!” Y/n called, running through the halls, checking for him where ever she could. practically jumping down the stairs when she saw him at the front door.

“ Alastor where are you going?” Y/n asked, panting wildly. Alastor didn’t answer. “ Alastor please.” Y/n said, before Alastor took his coat off it’s hanger.

“Y/n please, stop.” He said, pinching the bridge of his nose, his glasses moving upwards slightly.

“ No. Don’t you dare tell me to stop.” Y/n said, before she began to walk down the stairs.

“ Yes dear.” Alastor said, allowing her to continue, because he knew she would.

“ I don’t want your money.” She said, putting it on one of his suitcases. “ I don’t care about that. For Christ’s sake I don’t care about our house, or our cars or anything!” Y/n said, crying again. Alastor frowned.

“ Then what do you care about?” Alastor asked.

“ You! I care about you Alastor! Not the stupid front you put up, no, I care about you! Even if you are a killer, so be it I don’t care!” Y/n said, before she moved closer to him before reaching into his pocket. She was right, there it was. The knife he wrote about. The one he always had with him. She also knew he had one strapped to him under his shirt, on his arm. “ If you think I don’t care then shut me up.” Y/n said, putting the knife between the two of them.

“ Are you asking me to kill you?” Alastor asked, confused.

“ No. I’m telling you if you don’t like what I’m saying, or don’t think it’s real. Shut. Me. Up.” She said, putting the knife to his chest.

“ I thought you didn’t love me anymore.” Alastor said, head hanging low.

“ I do. I do love you.” Y/n said, as the knife fell to the ground. Y/n hugged him, and he hugged her back with just as much force, if not more, than she did. “ I will always love you.” Y/n said, gently running her fingers down his back.

“ You wont tell anyone right?” Alastor asked, before Y/n shook her head.

“ No, not ever. I promise.” Y/n said. “ Thank you.” She told him.

“ For what?” Alastor asked, mind going blank for a moment.

“ Getting rid of Tommy.” She said.

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1932: ‘Till death do we part

She knew she could’ve told the police. She knew she should’ve. But she didn’t have the heart to tell.

Even as she watched every night, accompanied Alastor on his hunts, as he liked to call it, she still loved him.

Even when they were both all bloody, screams of a victim trying to get away, you could still feel the love between them. As odd as it may sound.

But neither one of them cared. Even when Alastor had gotten caught, when he died, she still loved him even in death. Everyone had assumed she’d taken her own life because she was devastes over him being a killer.

Oh no. They couldn’t be more wrong.

She died because she couldn’t live without him. Even in their final moments together, the only thing either cared about, was each other.

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1935: Caught

Despite them both being dead, it was only in 1935 that Y/n had finally been caught as his accomplice. Police had went through their entire house, searching through their personal items, bibles, food. Asking the help of their co-workers, house keepers, friends, family. Anyone, if they had any suspicions.

Now, they’re graves lay near one another, flowers being brought every few weeks by only Alastor’s mother, who still loved them both dearly.

“ I always knew he was a troubled child I just, thought it was because of the kids at school, and the stress of the finances.” Alastor’s mother told the police.

“ What about Y/n?” The officer asked, before his mother shook her head.

“ Oh no. She was always such a sweet girl. I never would’ve thought she would do something like that. I always knew she loved my son, but I never thought they would do that.” His mother confessed.

“ Do you have an idea as to why Alastor took the fall for the whole thing? I mean, he could’ve easily put it on Y/n when he found out the we would be searching for him.” The officer said before Alastor’s mother sighed.

“ Well, my son was in love with her, goodness. That boy would go on and on for hours about her if he could. He probably didn’t want anything bad to happen to her.” His mother said.

“ Do you think if he would have had too, he would’ve sacrificed himself for her?” The officer asked.

“ Oh yes. Of course. He would do anything he needed too to keep her safe. Why do you think he killed Tommy? He beat Y/n.” Alastor’s mother said, before the officer went silent.

“ So your saying, Alastor killed for her?” The officer asked.

“ Well, I don’t know if that’s exactly why. But I could assume so. She knew all the victims, and he’d tell me how much she’d dislike them. He was clearly trying to make her happy.” His mother said. The officer nodded, writing everything down. Now it all made sense.

How long does it last?

Can love be measured by the hours in a day?

I have no answers now, but this much I can say

I'm going to need him 'til the stars all burn away

And he'll be there

[starchildghost]

every word I say is kindling (but the smoke clears when you're around) - a Laudna/Imogen au, chapter 2/3. Also on ao3.

/

Imogen Temult is born in the middle of the night under a brilliantly gleaming red moon. Later, people who hear her tale will say how unlucky the girl was; there were so many pieces that had to fall into place before she was on Exandria to damn her the way she was.

You know, of course, that everything about her birth has been orchestrated; Otohan Thull and Liliana Temult take credit, but you pull their strings. The Ruby Vanguard is a consequence of your actions, after all; they are yours, just as all living beings are in the end.

There is a flash of red and a loud crack of thunder announcing the arrival of the baby amongst her mother’s cries. When the girl takes her first breath of air, there is a flash of bright red lightning, blinding, destined for the hands that hold her - and then, there is a plea, a bargain, that you do not hear; the Ruby Vanguard does not deal in your favors.

It is not Liliana Temult that falls, electrocuted. The baby is unharmed.

Instead, Otohan Thull dies, her plea having found one who will listen to it. The lightning strike had rerouted to her instead. Her final expression is one of triumph, as she falls, singed, to the floor.

Otohan had suspected the Ruby Vanguard wouldn’t get their savior without a price, and she had been more than willing to pay. In the end, neither Liliana nor Imogen had a say, and the girl was raised as Otohan intended: a messiah to release Predathos, all on the back of the ultimate sacrifice.

It is a different childhood than most, spending all of it being adored. Spending all of it in the shadow of a woman who had died the moment she had begun to live. Before the age of five, Imogen loves the world; she loves her mother and the Ruby Vanguard members who dote on her, she loves the colors and sparks she can create with her hands, and she loves the stories they tell her to put her to sleep at night. There are stories of each of the gods, yourself included, and how you don’t care for mortals, but instead fear them, feed off of them, and one day a hero will come to change that; this hero will unleash Predathos, who will take care of all of those evil, nasty gods, and then humans will be able to spend their days reveling in their own magic, in nature, in all of the things that Imogen loves so much. Of course, when they describe the hero to the breathy, sleepy, little girl, she has purple hair and magic of lightning; she will save them.

You bide your time: this part of your plan requires the most patience, the most delicacy. Act too soon and they will become too companionable; you can’t have Imogen think of her as an imaginary friend. You need the tension - you need the tether to be taut. Act too late, and, well, the Ruby Vanguard might just succeed, and then it won’t matter what your machinations may have been.

As Imogen grows, so does her curiosity. She begins to chafe against the adoring cult members; no one will answer the questions she has. She had spent a great deal of years asking her mother or anyone who happened to be caring for her about her father, and never received an answer she found satisfactory. She will never meet him; you had tied a dark blue thread from Imogen to Relvin’s grave long ago. You don’t think she will ever see it.

It wasn’t that Relvin had cared for the girl, exactly. Liliana and Otohan had approached him with their plan, and eventually, he consented. He would aid them in bringing to life the savior of Exandria. He hadn’t been picked because they expected him to be involved or to be a doting father; rather, they thought he had a good bloodline for magic, and they knew he was content to be on his own more than most; he would not go and spread their plan across Exandria, as he didn’t have anyone to tell it to. Still, Otohan hated loose threads, and so Relvin was disposed of.

The Ruby Vanguard didn’t have a delicate way to explain this to a child, so they had collectively elected not to. Relvin Temult may as well have never existed; as far as anyone was concerned, Imogen was Liliana and Otohan’s daughter.

There was the matter, too, of Imogen’s powers growing.

She was no longer a simple child who produced glowing sparks. She grew to be a child whose sparks burnt those they touched; she grew to be a young woman whose very presence could confuse and disorient. Her mother and the rest of her caretakers had stopped touching her; anyone who did so was automatically shocked, regardless of her intentions. Imogen became a young woman who could read the minds of those whose sole purpose was to adore her.

In other words, as Imogen grew, so did her frustration.

She became crafty in her efforts to learn from those who served her; she would mention her father, forcing her chosen victim to think of him, all in an effort to glean information about him from their thoughts. This particular thread she pulled never revealed answers for her - Otohan and Liliana had been careful in their selection; very few of the Ruby Vanguard had ever met the man, and no one other than Otohan, buried beneath a lightning-struck stump, knew what had become of him.

This is not to say Imogen did not learn more than the Ruby Vanguard wanted her to. She was adept at getting to places they did not want her; she was pushy and searched in their heads for inklings of the world outside their encampment. A girl hidden in the hayloft, listening to the thoughts of her appointed companion she’d run off from as he exasperatedly searched for her - to him, she was a nuisance, not a savior, and she relished in it. He’d been selected by her mother to remind her of her place and to show her how lowly her status would be at her age without Liliana. He was a sleepy boy who was meant to bring her supper and never to speak to her, dreaming as he dozed in the sun - she had pushed into his dreams as long as he lived. He spent his childhood as just a normal boy, not as their messiah, and he got to read whatever he wanted and go fishing and see the world outside of Gelvaan and come home after a journey to a meal cooked by his mother and her relieved hug.

Imogen never pushed him the way she did the rest of the Ruby Vanguard; she was afraid to break him, to break the childhood she never had gotten to possess but relished seeing it through him.

The attendants who watched her, however, were a different story. Their minds were weak and, to Imogen, they were nothing special. Some of them couldn’t even bear to stand near her; even if she didn’t push into their thoughts, they became woozy, their heads unable to take the energy that poured out of her. She took a savage glee whenever one of these Ruby Vanguard members was assigned to her. They never knew anything that mattered, to Imogen, but their minds were free for her to rifle through up until they lost consciousness. From them, she got flashes of real lives - less powerful ones, sure, but she got to see the ocean, waves rippling out over a shore as the sun bounced off of them, each refracting into a hundred different colors; she got to feel the memory of someone’s lips pressing against hers, a shadow of a memory but one she clung to; she saw all sorts of people, surely significant to the person whose mind she was invading but to her, it was just magical to see all sorts of expressions on all sorts of faces: colorful tieflings juggling and laughing as they partook in a circus, an aasimar glowing with a holy light as she prayed at a temple, a little black kenku grinning and bearing a knife - all of them different, all of them new. Without fail, before her target collapsed, Imogen would see what brought the person to the Ruby Vanguard - financial ruin, the loss of a loved one driving them to the desperate, someone who was sick and tired of their prayers to the gods falling on deaf ears; rarely, very rarely, someone who truly believed in Imogen, believed that the world Predathos would bring about would be a better one.

It is difficult to spend your entire life on a pedestal; and, it turns out, it is absolutely, devastatingly boring.

“I don’t understand,” Imogen says to her mother, lightning crackling through her clenched fists, "why you won’t let me go see the world! If I’m to save it, shouldn’t I be able to see what’s so worth saving?”

Liliana doesn’t respond right away, instead merely quirks her eyebrow at the young woman across the desk. “You will see all of it,” her voice isn’t loud, but it has a firm edge to it. “After it’s ours.”

Imogen closes her eyes, tries to remember the wonder of being a little girl strolling through the fields of flowers that surround her now. Tries to remember the childhood wonder of being told that she will do important things, that she is important, that she exists to be loved. Remembers that Otohan Thull, living legend, chose to die for her own sake (for Liliana’s sake). “That’s just it, though.” Imogen’s teeth are grit, as she airs the thought that’s been brewing in her for most of her life. “It won’t be ours. It will be yours. I didn’t ask to save anyone.”

Liliana’s hand raises before she’s even aware of it - she goes to strike Imogen across the cheek but before she gets close, she’s thrown back against the wall by psychic power. Imogen doesn’t say a word; she turns and exits the house and allows today’s short straw Ruby Vanguard member to follow her.

Not yet.

/

Laudna has not spent the last twenty-odd years idle; if she is going to be undead for the rest of time, she’s figured she might as well make the most of it. Sometimes this means negotiating with the evil sorceress who killed her and lives in her brain (heart? her very soul?), but Laudna made her peace with that many years ago.

It’s made her strong and clever, these years with only herself and Delilah (and, to perhaps only Laudna’s delight, the creature she’s created using the skull you left her and named Pâté). She has developed a sixth sense, that of a peculiar sort of balance as she weighs the world, her comfort, her wants, the way she still seeks beauty after everything she’s been through, and Delilah Briarwood. The string you tied between the pair has thickened, its color still the purple of Delilah’s magic, and it’s wound tightly around Laudna’s throat.

The girl works for and against Delilah as it benefits her; their relationship has become mutualistic, though it understandably remains fraught. Delilah keeps her powerful, teaches her new spells; Delilah gives her strong enough magic to hide from those who would hunt her for what she is and magic to fight them when hiding fails.

Laudna, despite what Delilah thinks, is not dull; she has grown quite remarkable since she came to life in a noose. She gives Delilah power enough to fuel them both, runs enough of Delilah’s errands collecting resources that the sorceress thinks the girl is under her thumb entirely, but Laudna knows what sources of power to avoid to keep the sorceress from truly gaining her full potential again. This is how she marches solidly along, all the while maintaining her sixth sense of balance.

It is Delilah’s idea, in the end, to seek out the Ruby Vanguard.

“Who are they?” Laudna asks aloud, frowning. She quite likes this spot; she hasn’t seen another person for days, so she doesn’t need to pay attention to Delilah - her magic is unnecessary. She’s lounging by a lake, her black skirts cleaned and hung up to dry as she twists at some twine she intends to use to hang little animal bones from. In addition to being pretty, she’s confident hikers or other people who find themselves in this wood would be warded away by the bones, thus prolonging her idleness. She may have developed and honed her sixth sense; she is not thrilled to have to constantly be on edge and utilizing it.

She can practically hear Delilah sneer in her head. “Fools who think they’ll be able to snuff out the gods.” Laudna diplomatically does not mention that Delilah herself thought she would be able to ascend a new god. “Their aims don’t matter to us. They’ve managed to accumulate quite a massive amount of power, little bird. Power that is ripe for the taking.”

Laudna doesn’t respond right away, stilling her hands and gazing out over the lake. The sun beats down and she feels warm, quite the luxury for a walking corpse. There are fish jumping out towards the middle, each twisting and hovering in the air, flashing rainbow for just a second, before splashing back in. If she refuses, Delilah will likely get irate, which is, at best, physically uncomfortable for Laudna. It’s not as if she needs air or her heart to beat to keep on going, but she does rather like them, and Delilah cutting them off is quite annoying. If she agrees, it’s possible Delilah will actually collect whatever power these cultists have assembled and achieve her aims. Laudna has a loose grasp on them at best; sometimes it seems as if Delilah is collecting enough power to wherever she is (does Laudna contain a pocket dimension large enough to house an undead evil woman?) to return to the material plane; sometimes, when Delilah is struck by the grief that seems to drive her more than anything else, it seems she’s simply searching for the man she had loved and lost a few times over.

Either way, Laudna’s come to the conclusion that Delilah achieving her aims is bad for Exandria, and despite everything, Laudna quite likes Exandria. Her hands have never learned to heal, not like her mother’s, but they’ve become quite adept at creating and mending. Her greatest service to the world, she thinks, is to continue on the way she has; if Delilah is stuck with Laudna, she is not committing great evil acts, and therefore, Laudna is helping the world.

“All right,” she sighs and stands, brushing dirt off her legs as she begins to gather her skirts. “Where are they?”

Not yet.

/

It turns out, listening to Delilah and going to see the Ruby Vanguard was a wonderful decision, Laudna thinks. She had never dreamed of riding on an airship before. She hadn’t even had to stow away! Delilah was agreeable because Laudna had set off so quickly, and so Laudna was able to stand on the deck and watch the world pass by down below, completely shielded from the prying eyes of others by Delilah’s magic.

Laudna had been careful, all these years, never to let on how much power she possesses all on her own. If balance was her sixth sense, this was her seventh: a deep knowledge of the sorceress whose soul was entwined with hers. If you didn’t know better, you’d have assumed that Laudna could see Exandria as you could; it’s as if she sees the tethers that bind people, particularly her own.

There were some passengers that were unconscious below deck, their trinkets stowed safely amidst Laudna’s bags, having been pointed out by Delilah as enchanted and therefore potentially of use in the coming days. Laudna had listened without much deliberation; they could afford to be passengers on a skyship - really, she’d probably given them a gift. Everyone loves having a story to tell. Perhaps they’d concoct a tale of a ghost - she had made sure they hadn’t seen her. A haunted skyship! Now isn’t that exciting?

Besides, it was extremely of interest to Laudna to keep Delilah happy. Keep her occupied.

Not yet.

/

You take your time to gauge Imogen. She’s fuming - the Ruby Vanguard member who followed her did so out of duty, but they are increasingly regretting their choice. They would love, desperately, to move away from the rampaging woman, but her powers have them stunned, clutching their skull, curled on the ground. Imogen hasn’t even noticed (wouldn’t be able to do anything if she did).

They had made it a fair distance from the Ruby Vanguard’s center of operations - this was about as far as Imogen has ever been allowed to wander. Lightning sparks off of her in waves, frying the vegetation that dares to have grown near where she stopped stomping away from camp. In a way, the crippling psychic energy pouring off of her saves the life of the attendant on the ground, who would have otherwise been electrocuted.

There is a mountain in the distance that her eyes keep falling on. This has always been Imogen’s horizon - the very edge of her world. She has never seen the view from the top, never climbed it.

She could go. Should go, she thinks. Leave them behind, to their red end. She takes a breath.

Her mother waits for her, back in the encampment. There is a stump struck by lightning marking a grave that waits for her, back in the encampment. Hundreds of Ruby Vanguard wait for her, wait for their savior. The lightning turns to sparks, turns to nothing. Imogen turns around and begins walking back, to her mother. To her fate. To your fate.

Now.

You reach for Imogen’s wrist, tie a red thread around it. You grab Laudna’s on the deck of the skyship, and tie the other end there. Their tether gets no slack - it is as tight as you can make it.

[mclovinishereforsmutty]

Tinky-Winky x Jesse Pinkman: WWII

“Get down Tinky! Hurry over here!” Jesse shouted, pulling his lover into an abandoned warehouse. The sound of heavy breathing echoed throughout the chamber. “The vanguard must’ve forgotten to clear this area, we’ll have to wait for nightfall to retreat to the trenches,” he continued, unpacking a medical kit. Tinky winced as he applied the bandages. The two patched each other up, careful to cause no further harm or pain to the other. The gunshots rang out around them until twilight. Tinky had settled on Jesses lap, covering his ears to try and block out the shells and shrapnel hitting the sides of the warehouse. A soft slow patter echoed. Jesse pulled Tinky closer, as if to shield him from the tragedies they’ve seen whilst in the thick of warfare. Each took deep, heaving breaths in sync. Both of their hearts beating as if each was a half of the other. A telling sound of air being ripped through to the pair traced a path up to a catwalk leading outside. They froze. One second passed, two. Something was leaking, dripping. Jesse pulled Tinky beside him, releasing a soft gasp. A deep red flower appeared to bloom from the heart of Tinky’s soft purple terry-clothe clothes. “Tinky?” Jesse’s voice, barely a hoarse whisper, catching in his throat. He gingerly took the purple tubbie’s face is his hands. Tinky looked up, eyes glazing over, looking more past his lovers face and into something beyond the walls of the warehouse that Jesse could not see. “Jesse. Is it night time already? It’s so dark, where are you?” Tinky spoke softly, life leaving his voice and strength escaping his grasp. No sound left Tinky’s lips as Jesse pressed on the wound with what bandages he had left. “Tinky. Tinky you’re going to be okay. Just- just hold on,” Jesse’s voice broke. Tinky started slumping, barely holding his hands on Jesse’s shoulders. He could barely rest his head on Jesse’s shoulder and bring his lips to his ear. “Jesse. I don’t believe I have a lot of time left… so I want you to know… that I truly, deeply, lo-“ Tinky breathed, his limp body weighing against Jesse. His eyes left half closed. “Tinky? Tinky wake up. Tinky you have to wake up. Tinky… you have to wake so we can finish this war, so we can buy a country house in the Hamptons, so we can retire and age watching every sunset. Tinky? Tinky?!” Jesse rambled, gently shaking Tinky’s body. 

[kinadestiny2]

Oc Lore Dump: Their relationships with NPCs

Ulysses-3 is loved by most of the tower’s people. He is dumb, big hearted titan who cares about other people’s well-being. He is trusted by Zavala and Ikora.

The one that doesn’t vibe with him is obviously the Drifter. He accused Drifter to the Vanguard during the gambit season. Drifter knows that he did it for good intentions but still doesn’t fully trusts Ulysses.

Saladin trusts Ulysses, but sometimes thinks how rigid and awkward that titan is, and it reminds of himself.

Zavala is worried a lot about Dawn. He knows that they really doesn’t enjoy being a guardian. He can’t understand it, but he still gets the glimpse of that disdain against the Traveler.

Saladin feels bad about Dawn. They went through Dark Ages like Saladin did, and Saladin often thinks about how their life would have changed if the Iron Lords were able to take Dawn into their community.

Drifter and Dawn are good friends. Drifter somehow thinks that they are horrifyingly empty and depressed, but that’s common to people who survived the times.

Osiris doesn’t enjoy Ulysses’s company. They don’t listen to each other, always tries to do things their own way, and ends up fighting. Saint-14 thinks this is funny.

Mithrax is scared of Dawn. He doesn’t admit it because he’s the Kell, but there’s something about that titan… something is just off.

Hawthorne and Ulysses are good friends. Ulysses does a lot of things to make the citizens’ life better and Hawthorne appreciates that.

Amanda and Ulysses used to be good friends, too…

Ulysses isn’t very close to Crow. After the Season of Nightmares they become a bit closer, but they aren’t friends. They would never be, probably. Ulysses tries his best, but keep sees Uldren in him, and that leads to just separating himself from Crow.

Dawn thinks Crow is a “pitiful creation of authority’s game”. They care about Crow but Crow is bit scared about Dawn, too. At least he knows that they are one of the few people that understands him.

Styx-5 thinks Crow is a dumbass emo boy but they’re still friends. She doesn’t like his hairstyle tho. She thinks it’s Edgy af

Styx is a menace to tower… in a good way. She is a troublemaker but a cool one. She makes Zavala cringe a lot.

Seriously. Zavala is worried about Styx. He thinks she might do something real dumb and then die. She reminds him of Cayde… a bit.

Styx had a crush on Elsie Bray. Elsie knows this because it was so obvious. But her attention span is so short that she can always move onto a new crush.

Styx and Shaviks are like little granddaughters to Saint-14! They are adults but Saint still treats them like teenagers. Osiris doesn’t like this. He thinks they’re immature and stupid. Especially Styx. At least the Eliksni kid is polite…

Shaviks is afraid of Misraaks. She respects him and thinks he’s a good leader, but her abusive ex-family was also shipstealers like old Misraaks. Misraaks is aware of this and feels sorry about it.

But Shaviks loves being around Eido. She thinks Eido is the coolest person in the whole tower and follows her around. She hopes Eido is her actual sister. Eido adores this idea but at the same time she feels bad for Shaviks.

Mithrax appreciates Styx’s contribution to Eliksni quarter, but hopes that she stops drinking too much at Spider’s bar.

Spider thinks Dawn is annoying as hell. Dawn thinks Spider is cute. They hang out around him a lot, but they never drink. Spider hates it. You don’t spend a goddamn glimmer at my bar and keeps annoying me with stupid questions?

Spider doesn’t like Shaviks either. Mostly because she doesn’t drink either. Also her name reminds him of Rakis’s brother…

Styx and Ulysses are Spider’s good customers.

Dawn is friendly to Variks. They understand each other. Variks is afraid of them, a bit. He sees the void inside of them. But then it makes him realize that the void is made out of multiple layers of sadness caused by dead hopes, loss, and grief… just like many Eliksni who survived the whirlwind.

Will add more later at different post!!

[septembersung]

🤝 please!

How do the characters meet, including the antagonist?

For now I’ll call this story Amaryllis, after the protagonist. I’ve talked about it a little here in the past but if you remember any of that (and I’m not sure I do) please disregard because it’s effectively scrapped.

The characters don’t meet in-story because they already know each other, with one major exception. Amaryllis takes place in a fictional town in Kansas, a mishmash of many details from real small towns from all over; call it an ur-small town of flyover country. The cast all grew up there or have lived there long enough to make no difference to the narrative. Rylla and her husband have known each other since they were in diapers. Rylla's close friend circle includes two women she grew up with and her college roommate, who moved back with her to be part of the "keep small town business flourishing" movement and start the art business they own together.

The primary antagonist isn’t a person, it’s grief and death. Rylla’s 4yo daughter died nine months before the story opens.

The exception to the very local cast is the priest-monk who moves in and ends up being the catalyst for Rylla’s salvation. Rylla isn’t Catholic or even particularly anything - culturally Protestant, basically - and she doesn’t convert in story, but they end up as unlikely friends. Fr. Thaddeus is a member of the fictional order dedicated to St. Michael that shows up in several of my wips. In a group of exceptional men, he stands out. His personality and history is mostly a mystery to me still but I do know he’s a jack of all trades, an artist of some kind (like Rylla), and an exorcist. He's a young-looking middle age, with an unassuming face, and his robes deflect from his powerful physique. The kind of muscle you get from decades of self-discipline and living an active rural life. He's been sent as part of the vanguard of monks establishing a daughterhouse of the order on a large property at the edge of town. The property borders public lands with trails, a lake, etc. This is all relevant to the question because it explains the unusual circumstances of their first meeting.

Fr. Thaddeus meets Rylla before she meets him. Since Amber’s death, Rylla has been increasingly out of touch and detached from reality. He’s seen her around and is aware of her situation. Part of his job is to get to know the people of the town and get a feel for the spiritual landscape. Another part of his job is to explore the lands the order bought and build, not the main church or any of the monastery proper, but the hermitage style retreat chapel they'll need, deep in the property and out of the way. For Fr. Thaddeus, this is practically a sabbatical, especially after his last assignment. Lots of alone time, a private construction project, endless hours for praying? He's having a great time. He's also waiting for the other shoe to drop, because he knows he's not really on vacation, but so far the Lord hasn't put anything in particular in his path.

Rylla is having a particularly bad episode here around the nine month anniversary of Amber's death. She’s wandering the trails late in the day, leaves the trail, finds a spot to rest, falls asleep, wakes up in the dark in a bad storm. If she had a weather radio, it would be screaming 'flash flood warning.' Trying to get back to her car she gets lost and ends up on the order’s new property where he happens to be camping out and he saves her life, though she doesn’t quite realize it. She’s not self aware enough to realize she was passively seeking death. Or isn’t able to admit it to herself. To her he’s like a figure out of a fairy tale. A not very pleasant fairy tale.

For his part, Fr. Thaddeus is an exceptionally grounded man, as well as spiritually astute, and immediately recognizes that this soul, particularly, is why he's here.

[asklordfelwinter]

Hello Lord Felwinter sir!

I know you’re kinda old (no offense) so how do you feel about this current age? Where Risen are called Guardians and don’t (often) try to kill each other?

Is there anything you miss from the Dark Age that you can’t do now?

This is the future for our people that we hoped to bring about. It is only strange to be able to witness it with my own eyes. Your Vanguard has done well.

As for your second question—

Lord Saladin urges me not to answer. Perhaps he does not want me inspiring dangerous behaviors in young Lightbearers. All I will say is… I do wish I could participate in Lord Shaxx’s war games.

[geojester]

Per Audacia Desert Duo Snippet

Scar doesn’t know how to feel about seeing Grian again. Mainly because he’d never expected to see him again.

Everyone knew those who went in search of the Watchers were doomed to never return. Yet one day there he was, back in Scar’s life in the space of a blink. Proving the rumors wrong.

Or maybe not.

Because Scar knows for a fact that the thing that appeared in front of him isn’t Grian. It may wear his face and use his voice, but it would take more than that to fool Scar.

He sees the way Grian’s pupilless eyes glow an unearthly, unnatural blue. He sees the strange markings on his skin, the way his feet never touch the floor. The way Grian’s lips never move when he talks.

So maybe the rumors are still true. No one who goes looking for the Watchers ever returns.

At least, not the way they were.

That first meeting with Grian — with the Emissary — has given him a lot to think about. Not to mention the Watchers’ little “gift.” They see him as worthy. Why? Because of Gambit? Because he’s the one Lightbearer in a thousand that doesn’t hesitate to use the Darkness, make it part of his game?

Scar is not a trusting person. The Dark Age taught him better than to trust anyone — whether that be other Lightbearer, Ghosts, the Vanguard, you name it.

He doesn’t trust the Watchers. He wouldn’t trust them even if they hadn’t turned his friend into their personal mouthpiece.

He doesn’t trust them, but he can use them.

If the Watchers want him to keep doing what he’s doing, Scar has no problem with that. If anything, he appreciates the fact that someone sees the value of Gambit, even if that “someone” is actually several mysterious beings of unfathomable power. Gambit can save the Guardians, Scar’s sure of it. And that goes beyond Etho using it to track down the Shadows.

So he’ll keep playing the game, but he won’t trust the Watchers.

---

Scar is in the Tower minding his business when the air in front of him ripples and suddenly he’s no longer alone.

Grian hovers before him, floating a good couple of feet off of the ground. If Scar wasn’t so put off by his friend having been overtaken by eldritch beings, he would make a joke about height compensation.

As it is, it’s all he can do to meet the Emissary’s eyes without shuddering.

Instead, he forces a grin, digging up his charming con man persona. “Hey! How’s my favorite Emissary of the Watchers?”

Grian’s expression is as blank as ever. As blank as it never used to be before the Watchers got ahold of him. “Favorite implies we possess more than one.”

That’s another thing. Scar doesn’t like the way Grian uses “we,” as though the Watchers are literally speaking through him. He shivers slightly. Maybe they are.

He tilts his head. “Don’t you?”

“The Watchers have many agents.”

Well, that wasn’t much of an answer. Scar doesn’t appreciate crypticness. The whole Emissary situation is confusing enough by itself. Some straightforward answers would be nice.

Still, he can hazard a guess as to who the Emissary might be referring to. “Are you talking about Mr. Tentacle Face? I didn’t know you guys had the same job description.”

“The Dredgen has visions.”

Scar flinches. He hadn’t expected such a severe topic change. He isn’t particularly happy about Grian’s refusal to use his name either, but instead of bringing it up again he just presses his mouth into a line.

“You’re right,” he says flatly, “And I’ve gotta say I don’t appreciate them. So if you’re the one giving them to me, we’re going to have problems.”

The visions had been growing more frequent lately and their imagery was… concerning, to say the least. Disturbing. A lot of Darkness. The possibility of a second Collapse as the Black Fleet descended on Sol. 

He could tell the Vanguard. In fact, that’s the logical thing to do. But he isn’t a Guardian nor is he bound to their ways. The extent of his relationship with the Vanguard is them letting him stay in the Tower and run Gambit.

“The visions are important,” says Grian, “You are shown them not as a punishment, but as a sign of what is to come. They are what lies ahead. The outcome of your actions.”

Scar’s eyes widen. Is Grian implying that he’s responsible for the return of the Darkness? For the destruction that will surely rain upon the system when that happens? No, he can’t allow that. He won’t.

“The future’s not set in stone,” he replies, “I can change the outcome.”

“Do you truly believe that?”

A slight growl is torn from Scar’s throat. What makes it worse is the fact that Grian doesn’t sound condescending. Instead, he sounds merely curious, as though he couldn’t believe that Scar would think something like that.

“Yes!” snaps Scar, “I do! I make my own choices.”

His eyes are locked on Grian’s face. He isn’t sure what he’s hoping for. Sympathy? Agreement? Or maybe just a flicker of emotion — of any emotion — to show that Grian even cares.

But Grian’s expression remains unchanging. “Your beliefs are your own.” 

With that, he vanishes.

[beebee-stingz]

Niigo but they’re guardians from the hit mmorpg Destiny 2 (real??!)

Kanade:

- Warlock. No question.

- Uses well of radiance

- Her Ghost’s name is K. They’re pretty much the same as kanade (pathetic wet cats)

- She’s the group’s fireteam leader

- Resurrected just after the destruction of the Black Heart took place

- Probably the most “fit” to be a guardian out of the group, since she has a strong will to protect and save people. But instead she just spends most of the time in her apartment/ship composing music.

- Fascinated by the Hive in particular and their ritual songs. She’s been driven to death many times trying to get a recording of the Deathsinger’s Dirge to dissect it and see how it was composed

- Her ghost has been encouraging her to try getting out more, so she’s been trying to teach the kids of the Last City about composing and creating music.

- Whenever she’s on patrol, she ditches the group to find anything from the Golden Age and Pre-Golden Age related to songs. She has a massive file saved on a computer dedicated to anything from lyrics to music sheets that she’s found over the years

- She spends time “recreating” lost music from those eras too as sort of a side project when she isn’t composing her own pieces. This is also the main inspiration behind most of the pieces she creates.

Mafuyu:

- Hunter, since she’s athletic and stuff

- Stasis enthusiast

- Her ghost’s name is Yuki, taking inspiration from when Mafuyu was resurrected during a snow storm. Her personality is a lot like Mizuki’s, in the way that they’re the sort of meditator when it comes to Mafuyu’s horrid anxiety.

- She was resurrected only a few months before Kanade was resurrected. Making her the “oldest” member.

- She used to maintain a good girl personality around the vanguard and other guardians. She had an unwavering allegiance to the Light and its cause, until the Hunter Vanguard passed away. This would expose the cracks and make her question her loyalty. In spite of that, she would remain loyal… on the outside anyways. She would start to use stasis behind the Vanguard’s back and learn more about the true nature of Light and Darkness. This has caused her to question a lot about the Vanguard and, ultimately, what she herself had been fighting for. As well as who she was and what she truly wanted *insert identity crisis here*

- As time goes on, she’s finding that she only wants to protect and be with those who mean something to her- her fireteam- through whatever means necessary. She ditched the attitude and ditched putting loyalty in something she deemed imperfect.

- She often turns to Elsie Bray and Eris Morn for answers on Stasis and its connection to both Light and Darkness. The amount of time she spends with both of them worries her fireteam lowkey, except Mizuki- who recognizes that both forces one in the same. Mizuki is just worried about her becoming really edgy and potentially having a shitty fashion sense more than anything

- She’s very drawn to Kanade and the music she composes. Often critiquing, writing lyrics, and composing alongside her whenever she can. (Wow shocker)

- She owns several aquariums on her ship, and collects all sorts of aquatic creatures from across the system

- And yes, she has Poukas.

Mizuki:

- HUNTER. A very, very stylish Hunter, in fact. So much so that it annoys literally everybody. The sparkliest shaders? The most extravagant cloak? They’ll proudly let you know that they have what you don’t. Not their problem you’re too broke to pay a visit to Eververse!

- Uses Blade Barrage and Strand

- Resurrected just before the Red War. I’m talking like. MOMENTS before.

- Their Ghost’s name is Amia. She acts like Mizuki’s leash, making sure they don’t die from doing reckless things (they end up dying anyways lol)

- They’re dating Ena and often gets her riled up due to how much they bicker, the two fight like an old married couple. They also go on Crucible dates with Ena, they both fight a powerhouse and have earned Lord Shaxx’s approval, which doesn’t take much because Shaxx gets excited very easily. They also like to give Ena a hard time by making her switch to Bubble or be Div Bitch™ during encounters with higher ranking enemies.

- Each and every one of their knives have cute little ribbons on them :3

- They often updo their hair, even knowing full-well that it’ll just get messed up the second they put their helmet or cloak on.

- Despite being the “youngest” member of the fireteam, they call the most shots and act as a meditator. They often get mistaken as the leader bc of this

- Their eye for fashion has landed them a part time job at a local guardian-oriented boutique in the City. They help outfit newer guardians and gives them overall fashion advice

- Even though they’ve gained the approval of Shaxx, they doe NOT like being told what to do especially by the Vanguard. Cayde-6 is to blame for this, since they looked up to him before he passed. They also don’t entirely trust Drifter, either. So they’ve restored to just acting upon their own principles.

- They intuitively questioned the Light, and knew something was off from the start. So during the entirety of Beyond Light, they were all “lmfao told you so” to literally everybody. They revel in both light and darkness

Ena:

- She’s a Titan!

- She prefers to use Hammer, but often gets put on Bubble duty per Mizuki’s “request”

- Her Ghosts’s name is Akito… and yes, they hardly ever get along

- Resurrected around Rise of Iron

- She’s also rather stylish partly bc of Mizuki’s influence, so much so that she gets mistaken for a Hunter herself

- She and Mizuki are DATING!!! (I AM SHOVING THE MIZUENA AGENDA DOWN EVERYBODY’S THROATS AND IM NOT SORRY)

- She practically lives in the Crucible because of her competitive nature, but also per Akito’s request a while back because of her short temper getting out of hand at some point and needed some way to let it out

- She found an old camera once while on patrol on Venus and takes it with her wherever she goes to take reference pictures

- She discovered her talent for art out of boredom. She found some random pen and piece of paper in her ship while in orbit and began to absentmindedly doodle an image of Mafuyu. Being proud of herself, she decided that she wanted to try her hand at art as a hobby.

- She takes monthly art classes in the City, which are often taken by regular citizens. She’s, most times than not, the only guardian in those classes.

[syncopation53]

Ok ok I Know I’m being a fucking hypocrite when I say I’ve started thinking about ways to make the Fireteam Buckaroos approach work for Lightfall after writing all that about Xira but listen just hear me out

Right now I’m focused on rearranging the strand plotline to fit into the main vs calus/witness narrative and I thought that maybe the “interwoven threads that connects every living consciousness” power could be better tied (lol) to the witness taking over ghost like we see in the cutscenes. it’s spoken to us through our ghost before, certainly, but this is the first time (that I know of at least. I haven’t read every single lore tab about it forgive me) that it’s used our ghost as a proxy of sorts to communicate with someone else, namely calus, through the broken glass powerpoint transition effect. I was thinking about maybe furthering that, have the witness speak through our ghost as normal at first, and then as we grow closer and closer to mastering strand it starts doing those glass facetime calls, first solely visible to us, then physically present by the end. the illusion of heightening the stakes as it gets closer to its goal through the use of our own determination to stop it. something like savathun in wq but isn’t dropped as a midpoint twist so as to give guardians any fighting chance. whatever the opposite of a deus ex machina is. the devil ascending from below at the end of the story to utterly wreck any chance of hope the characters thought they had at the very end

So, fireteam buckaroos re: That cutscene. Ravan, one of the titans on the team, is the one I’ve decided to link the closest with calus/the leviathan in general so of course he’s going to be there at the finale. Caoilinn too, given that she’d be intrigued by the notion of a barely post-golden age ishtar facility and the nature of the veil as something of the light as well. she would want to take the thing apart piece by piece but that’s an issue for another day. in their own little three-man setup, that leaves Kai, who throws himself headfirst into dangerous territory with a “don’t fucking tell me what to do” attitude simply because it would piss the vanguard off the most at the time, who not only accepts but embraces the chance to follow the dark and turn away from the light because the light is pain and subjugation but the dark is freedom, who by the end has cultivated the mastery needed to fully harness strand and its infinite web of paracausality

And Kai is perhaps the only member of fireteam buckaroos who would hesitate to point a weapon at their own Ghost and take the shot

[dianaorionofdestiny]

Season of the Sorcerer

Diana Orion is a rogue warlock lightbearer who has spent her life since the end of the Dark Ages dedicated to uncovering truths about Dark Magic and how to wield it. It has taken her some time to come around, but now she assists the Vanguard in matters relating to void and Dark Magic. We first meet her before the Season of Opulence.

Work Text:

“Do you ever wonder what it’s like?” 

The guardian sitting across from an awoken glared back and slightly tilted their head to inquire more.

“Com’ on. One of the only things we can't have for ourselves.” The awoken took a sip from her drink and continued on. “True, everlasting peace.” The guardian didn’t respond just yet, wanting to hear more.

“I’m talking about death. And not that fake shit we go through. I mean the real deal. I hate to say it, but man, sometimes..” She trailed off unsure of how much to divulge. “I’m just saying a little quiet would be nice.” She bit her tongue and finished the last of her drink, polishing it off in one swig. 

It had been days since the Awoken Guardian stepped foot outside the city, and more recently, stepped foot outside the tower. The hunter sitting across from her took in her sad, disappointed smirk and watched as she got up to grab water. 

“Well anyways” the fridge snapped open and the Hunter listened to the sound of glass clinking.  “What can I do for you? There’s got to be some reason you went out to find me.” She returned with a full cup, a few lights from the window refracted through the glass. 

The guardian paused again and thought carefully about how to approach the conversation. 

“I was given the impression you could part with a bit of information.”

Diana tapped the Collins glass she was holding with her pinky nail in both amusement and anticipation for the hunter’s inquiries. “And that is?” she furrowed her brows.

The guardian was cautious but resigned not to speak. In place, the hunter reached into their pocket and pulled out a small prism, setting it on the small table in front of them. 

Diana returned with glass in hand and didn’t notice the object until she had set the water down next to it and took a seat opposite from the guardian.

“Oh, that..” she stalled by reaching for a glass pipe laying on another side table to her right and ruffling up the ashes with her thumb nail. Diana lit the pipe and took a long drag while thinking how to keep both parties safe.

Smoke poured from Diana’s mouth and nostrils, “I take it you’ve had some nice dreams as of late” she held a slight knowing smirk. 

The guardian hardened their expression and leaned back in the lounge chair, unsatisfied. 

“You could say something like that, yeah” 

Diana’s smile fell as she reached back at the small table that held the pipe and grabbed a small metal box that contained various leaves and plant cuttings ample for smoking. She pinched a small amount between her fingers and ground it up with her nails before sticking it in the glass bowl and lighting it. She was pensive for a moment while more smoke built up around the pair.

“Don’t tell me you’ve actually listened to what they have to say. It’s all bullshit, you know that.” Diana’s tone was now back to her serious self.

“I’m actually more interested as to what they want with you” the guardian was forward, tired of dancing around the issue at hand. 

“That’s a long story, champ.” Diana grumbled and sank into her chair as she took another hit.  The guardian across from her was insistent and would not leave until they got what they wanted. Diana coked her head and looked to the side as if to say ‘I give up’. She clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth and gathered her thoughts.

“The nine” she began, “what role they play in this whole thing, I can't tell you, because honestly I don't know. So far they just seem curious, about us, about the light.” She shifted in her seat and began to lean in closer.

“Sometimes they’ll warn me with prophecies, but good luck always trying to understand those.” Diana smirked slightly. 

“A lot of times they just want to taunt me with visions of the past. I donno, to build character or something.” Her eyes shifted towards her feet before shooting up to the ceiling. 

“At least we are far from the only ones though! Sorry that you had to get tangled up in it. Hopefully they'll leave you alone pretty soon.” 

The guardian stood stoic, wanting to hear more precise details. 

“And what do they want with you?” the hunter asked bluntly. 

Diana shuddered, for a moment fear was present in her hollow eyes. 

“To atone.”

“When I was a lot younger,” Diana began to answer the hunter’s surprised silence. 

“I was so angry. I set out wanting to destroy the old warlords, but in reality I just wanted to wreck anything I could get my hands on. Because of where I resurrected, I didn’t know if there were any others like me wanting to put an end to all this wreckage.” She lit her glass pipe again and smoke once more filled the room, adding to her hazy recollection. 

“After the fall of the Iron Lords, I was so lost. The best thing I could think of was to just run and hide.” Diana looked distant until her eyes refocused on the hunter in front of her. 

“Took a while before the vanguard got to me and I joined The Last City. Now I mostly do their bidding.” Diana slipped out a half hearted smile and glanced back at her pipe. Her soft expression betrayed the tinge of bitterness laced in her words.

“Are you close with any of them?” The guardian lead the conversation to satisfy their curiosity. 

“Mm..” Diana paused and tilted her head, “Somewhat. I have my favorites.” She seemed restrained, but the guardian could see Diana’s eyes light up at the question. 

“What do you mean?” The hunter asked, leaning in. 

Diana looked a little annoyed.

“I mean I’m cordial with everyone. A few people help me out here and there. Obviously I’m close with Eris since the whole dark magic deal.” 

The hunter, however, had a good idea who else Diana was talking about. 

[wonderlandleighleigh]

They get back to June’s from Peter and Elizabeth’s place obscenely late after working a case, and Mozzie has been complaining the entire way home about having FBI stink on him.

Neal, for his part, is expecting the house to be dark and quiet. June’s not normally this much of a night owl, though he’s caught her previously enjoying a nightcap when she can’t sleep. However, when he opens the door and steps in, the lights in the living room are on and the sounds of women’s laughter echo from that direction.

He swings around the corner and finds June with another woman her age, sitting on the floor, quite a few empty bottles of wine on the coffee table in front of them.

June spots him and smiles brightly. “Neal is home!” She gets to her feet carefully before helping the other woman. “Neal, I’d like you to meet a very good friend of mine.” 

Mozzie steps in as well, freezing as he sees the women. “Is that-oh my god. Neal, Midge Maisel is in June’s house!” 

“Midge and I have known each other for ages,” June tells them. “We met in the sixties, at a jazz club in the Village.” 

“Is that your tennant?” Midge asks. “God, look at him, is that how gentiles are built these days?” 

June giggles and nudges her. “Midge, this is Neal, and his friend Mozzie.” 

Midge smiles, obviously just as drunk as June. “Hi, there.” 

“Come, come sit!” June says, waving them over. “We’ve still got half a bottle to get through.” She steps over to a hutch and pulls out two more wine glasses. 

“Wine with a world famous comedienne and rule-breaker?” Mozzie asks. “Don’t mind if I do!” 

Soon, they’re all sitting on the floor with their wine. 

“So, you met at a jazz club?” Neal asks.

“It was 1962,” June tells them. “The Village Vanguard. We were both on dates.” 

“Hot dates,” Midge adds. “We both wound up in the bathroom at the same time, scoping it out to see if it was safe for a quickie.” 

“Midge!” June cries, laughing and blushing. “Don’t tell them that!” 

“Why, it’s the truth,” Midge laughs. “Neither of us got laid at that club, but we made some good friends.” 

“Wait, who was your date?” Mozzie asks, turning to Midge. “Was it-” he gasps. “Was it notorious rule-breaker and transgressor Lenny Bruce?!” 

Midge smiles. “It was. We got married a few months after that at the courthouse, and June and Byron stood as our witnesses.” 

June gets up again, wandering over to a shelf and pulling down a framed photo of four people, bringing it back over. 

Neal takes it, smiling as he looks at the two couples in the photo. Mozzie looks down at him too. 

“Everyone looks so happy,” June says fondly. “Lenny passed away a couple of years ago now, not so long after Byron did.” 

“They adored each other,” Midge smiles sadly. “They used to get into so much fucking trouble. How many times were they arrested together?” 

“Five,” June giggles. “We used to go together to bail them out, and then we’d go get pie at whatever diner was closest.” 

Neal beams. “Good times.” 

“Very good,” Midge agrees. “But since Lenny passed, June and I have spent a lot of time together. Lunches. Shows and concerts. I only live a little over a mile down the street, so it’s easy for two old biddies to get together.” 

“Neither of you are old biddies,” Mozzie assures her. “Just as gorgeous as you were back in the day.” 

“Oh, look who’s the charmer,” Midge laughs. 

“Just appreciate a fellow felon,” Mozzie says. “You and Lenny are legends! You drove the cops crazy back in the day!” 

“We were always Officer Peluso’s favorite arrests,” Midge laughs. “But that was a very long time ago.” 

“So what are you two celebrating tonight?” Neal asks. 

“More like pondering,” June tells them. “Midge is thinking of donating her Declan Howell painting to the Ettenburg collection at the Met.” 

“I did jilt Benjamin,” Midge blurts out. “It feels like a small way to make up for it all these years later.” 

June laughs. “Oh, please. Benjamin wasn’t right for you, and you know it.” 

“Which is why I didn’t marry him, but boy was he pissed.” 

“Wait, back up,” Mozzie says, holding up a hand. “You own a Declan Howell painting?”

Midge nods. “It was a wedding gift from Declan.” 

“You knew Declan Howell?” Neal asks, stunned. 

“He was desperate to sleep with Midge,” June chuckles. “How many times did he proposition you for sex?” 

“Several,” Midge confirms. “The last time being in the note he sent along with the painting. ‘Dear Midge - I supposed you’ll never sleep with me now. Damn that Lenny Bruce. Congratulations, I suppose. - Declan.’” 

They all laugh at that and Neal shakes his head. “There are so few Howell paintings left. What? Four in the hands of collectors and maybe two or three in the Met currently?” 

“Two in the Met,” Midge confirms. “Benjamin’s.” 

“Which he only was able to buy because he was dating you, and Declan was enamored,” June points out. 

“He was not that desperate!” 

“Oh, yes he was,” June argues. 

“Oh, please.” 

“You know, I would love to see that painting,” Neal says. “It’s probably amazing.” 

“Exquisite,” June tells him. “It’s a beautiful painting. Made especially for Midge.” 

“Stop.”

“That man was enamored,” June insists. “Terrible what happened to him.” 

“Didn’t he die in a fire at his studio?” Mozzie asks. 

Midge nods. “He was cooking heroin. He screwed up. Whole place went up. That’s why there are so few of his paintings left. He rarely sold any and his work, so it all went with him.” 

“What about that secret painting?” Neal asks. “Supposedly Declan Howell painted this incredible masterpiece that no one ever saw.” 

Midge grins a little. 

Mozzie’s eyes go wide. “You saw it. You saw it!” 

“He…may have shown it to me in an attempt to sleep with me,” Midge explains. “It was truly an incredible painting. Beautiful and emotive…” She takes a breath. “He painted it for himself. For the family home he intended to have before the painting and the booze and the drugs ate him up…” 

“That’s sad,” Neal says softly. “Lonely.” 

“He was a lonely man,” Midge confirms, sipping her wine. “Anyway. Sorry to bring the mood down.” 

June wraps an arm around her. “It’s been a tough few years. It’s easy to get caught up in the past.” 

“You know, your apartment is within my radius,” Neal says. “I would love to come by. See the painting. Chat about art and the old days over some coffee maybe?” 

“Same. Me. I want in,” Mozzie cuts in. 

Midge laughs a little. “I do make great coffee.”

[britishassistant]

I wonder what the supervillains (the dorm leaders) would do if they get switched with their other self in Twisted Wonderland.

They'll meet a younger Yuu calls them senpai and probably get shivers when they hear someone shout Prefect but then realize its Yuu's role in that world.

Bonus would be if Yuuken's there too, sharing the dorm with Yuu.

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

I decided to take a little inspo from my Villainous Paranoiac series for this one! Not a whole lot, but the idea of Twisted Wonderland Yuu being put in the infirmary after the events of Chapter Five!

(Also consider it non-canon, since it kinda involves everyone’s identities being exposed!)

Basically imagine that the supervillains find themselves in what looks like a private school infirmary, late at night. The air is buzzing with a strange energy, almost like the powers back in their home world, but...different, somehow.

The room nearly empty, save for one occupant in a cot close to the door.

Poison Queen and King immediately begin bickering over whose fault this mess is, while Royal Flush tries to get them to keep their voices down or else they’ll be detected. Charon is half a minute from going to curl up in a corner, clutching his freeze ray like a lifeline, while Octo Dealer and Snake Charmer are busy inspecting their surroundings for anything of value or that can be requisitioned into a weapon on short notice.

Tsunotaro has wandered over to inspect the sole other living being in the room with them.

He is pleasantly surprised to see what looks like a younger version of the reporter he’s so fond of, fast asleep in the infirmary cot. Their cheeks still retain the last bit of baby fat from childhood, and there’s some acne left that will fade with age. He may give one cheek a gentle poke, just to satisfy his curiosity. The sleepy mumble they let out is a little more high pitched than normal, but that’s the reporter’s voice alright.

He is less pleased to see dark circles under their eyes, or the bandages around their throat that stink of medicinal salves. If this truly is a younger version of his child of man, then why do they look so worried, even in sleep? Why are they injured and sleeping in this place of healing in the first place? They’re a mere child, barely old enough to operate a vehicle or live alone. Their only worries should be trivial things, not whatever is causing this furrow in their brow and hunch in their shoulders.

The other supervillains have begun to migrate over to where Tsunotaro is crouching in silent contemplation. King flips his eyepatch up to get a better look, whistling lowly. Octo Dealer busies himself with refilling their water glass, sneaking glances at them as he places it within easy reach. Snake Charmer pulls their pillow more under their head from where it’s almost slipped off. Poison Queen straightens the arrangement of the very tasteful bouquet on the bedside table, so the flowers’ best angle is shown to the bed’s occupant. Royal Flush carefully tucks their covers in over them.

Charon takes a picture with his tablet.

He forgot to turn off his flash.

Yuu cracks their eyes open...

To see seven adults looming over their bed in masks that resemble the ink from the overblots that haunt the Prefect’s nightmares.

Cue terrified screaming.

Snake Charmer lunges forward instinctively to cover Yuu’s mouth—

It’s only thanks to Poison Queen yanking him back that he doesn’t end up with an arrow in the shoulder.

Several more follow the first one through the window above the prefect’s cot, cold iron sharp and perfectly aimed to seriously maim if the supervillains don’t immediately get away from the screaming teenager. Rook was lax in protecting the Trickster after VDC ended, assuming there was no more danger after Roi du Poison’s overblot was saved. He will not make that mistake again.

The infirmary doors burst open, a younger Yuuken in a sleep-rumpled uniform barging in from where he decided to sleep outside because Ramshackle felt too empty and quiet to bear, but was forbidden from staying in the infirmary himself. He only has a pillow, but he brandishes it at the strange adults, fully willing to defend his dorm mate in whatever way he can.

The vanguard appears in a flurry of bats though, too many to fight off, small and vicious and furious. Their commander materializes in the center if the swarm, hovering over the head of Yuu’s cot, pink eyes brimming with a cold rage that makes his small and cute form look like it’s bursting at the seams holding something much older and angrier back. He opens his mouth, fangs long and glistening—

Only to stop short at the sight of one of the supervillains. “Malleus? Malleus Draconia?”

Tsunotaro nods warily.

“Wh-What in Twisted Wonderland are you wearing??”

Tsunotaro ducks his head like a chastened child. “I could say the same thing.” He mutters sullenly.

From there the lights get turned on, and the seven supervillains are made to explain themselves to the sleep-deprived students and staff who trickle in to see what’s going on. All six dorm leaders and one vice dorm leader vanished from their beds, setting everyone on high alert until news of these...alternate versions spread.

It is very weird for the supervillains to see all their minions as teenagers (again in some cases). It is only surpassed by how weird it is for everyone else to see their dorm heads and vice head all grown up and adult, even if they are dressed weird.

Ortho still wants to shoot them with a beam until they bring back his nii-san. Luckily Charon is able to convince him that Idia should be fine if he’s in Charon’s lair—he’s got plenty of the latest games, manga and tech for him to play with, so that should keep him occupied for a while.

Sebek is in a state of Malleus awe. He has shut down and will not restart. Silver has taken to pinching himself just to make sure this isn’t a Lilia’s cooking induced fever dream, while Lilia himself scolds Tsunotaro that he raised him better than to go around watching people sleep like that! Tsunotaro tries to use the “but I’m a supervillain” excuse, only for Lilia to shoot back “and I’m a war criminal in some nations, what’s your point?”

King is enjoying watching the overgrown lizard get scolded. Now if only the tiny Ruggie would stop asking him what injury the eyepatch is for, and making remarks about how embarrassing it would be if it were totally pointless—King does not pay his adult self so much to put up with this shit. The baby Jack also needs to stop demanding to know if his adult minion self can pull a sled faster than a moose or something...

Jade and Floyd are attempting to wind up the adult Octo Dealer, trying to see how much they can get away with compared with the normal Azul. Octo Dealer is legitimately at a loss as to how this world’s Azul doesn’t keep them in line without letting them turn to a crime or two. Then he learns about Azul’s contract business and feels a pang of commiseration and understanding.

Poison Queen, Royal Flush, and Snake Charmer are unpleasantly shocked when their dorms address them by their respective secret identities in front of their fellow supervillains out of the blue.

Poison Queen has to put up with King’s uncontrolled laughter as he finally understands the full extent of the incident with White Neige so long ago, while Tsunotaro tries to tell him he liked Schoenheit in his role as the evil dragon prince in the GaoGao dramatization. Royal Flush is about two seconds away from throttling Octo Dealer if the bastard doesn’t stop trying to make a deal to guarantee his mother doesn’t learn about her son’s private activities. Snake Charmer’s just glad his civilian identity flies under the radar enough that Charon has to try and look him up to understand who he is (and fails because he’s not on school wifi and his cellular data is bust).

Poison Queen is also getting a headache from Rook rhapsodizing about how his villain form is another, enhanced mode of beauty he is fortunate to lay eyes upon, as if he hadn’t been willing to skewer Poison Queen along with the rest of the supervillains five minutes ago. He’s at least able to amuse himself by letting Epel run away with his speculations about how he’s the buff hyper-masculine muscle for Poison Queen.

Kalim is crying that Jamil had to resort to becoming a villain in his home world! He must be so sad if he has to do that! He’s mildly cheered up when Snake Charmer tells him they work together on schemes, and that Snake Charmer is actually reasonably happy with his chosen vocation—and then he begins panicking that Jamil will like that world so much, he won’t want to come back.

Royal Flush is glad his counterpart at least has good people around to look after him, even if it is odd to have young versions of Trey and Cater trying to mother hen him despite the fact that he’s the older one now. At least Ace and Deuce acting up seems more fitting now considering their age than it ever did on their adult selves.

Ace huffs a sigh and leans on Yuu’s shoulder. “This is a mess, huh Prefect?”

“You said it.” Yuu replies. “I just wanna sleep forever.”

The supervillains go still.

“I’m sorry,” Snake Charmer says carefully. “But isn’t Enma-san the Prefect?”

“No?” Yuuken replies, confused. “Yuu’s the prefect of Ramshackle Dorm. I’m their vice— or would be, if we had any other students apart from them, me, and Grim.”

Octo Dealer laughs, sounding slightly strained. “Ah, apologies, but you see, that isn’t possible. It can’t be. Yuu isn’t—”

“But I am the prefect, Azul-senpai.” Yuu the Prefect says. “I’ve–I’ve always been the prefect.”

There’s a stunned silence.

Royal Flush places his head in his hands. “What the fuck.”

Back in the Supervillain AU universe, Yuu the Reporter sneezes sharply while trying to wrangle five frightened teenagers, one frightened-but-playing-tough twenty year old, and one confused however-old-he-is-but-younger-than-Tsunotaro fae.

They wonder what the chill down their spine is.

[thefirstknife]

The Fall of a Pyramid Ship

Besties, I have a thought. Many of them actually.

I recently went on a long tangent about how there is a possibility that some time during Season of the Lost a Pyramid will appear in the Dreaming City and we will be bringing it down. That Pyramid will then end up in Savathun's throne world which is where we will be going into it for the Witch Queen Raid. Post with the details here.

The rest under the cut because it's long:

The original post was mostly spurred someone asking about Sjur's dream from the lore on Sleepless. The relevant parts:

"I was dreaming," Sjur says, wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand. "I saw you on a great black triangle. You split it in two with your bare hands."

"Mm."

"And I was dead, I think." She cracks her neck with a deliciously loud pop. "Or… trapped? Like in a maze. But pretty close to figuring my way out."

"Mhm."

Sjur stands up to stretch. She does not mind that Mara is not listening. Let her read. "And there was another woman with you."

"On the triangle," Mara murmurs.

"Mm. Yeah. She was helping. Then your brother showed up, and…" She shakes out her arms, frowning thoughtfully. The dream is already fading. "He said, 'Tropaea.' Or maybe it was, uh, 'Tropical.' Anyway."

I bolded the most relevant sentences. The original post really wasn't about the whole Pyramid business, but I had to add my thoughts now that we know more than we did back when this lore was released. Not only the stuff I mentioned in the post, but also now we know that Savathun is (allegedly) trying to help us defeat the Black Fleet and the same was said about the reason why Mara wants her Techeuns back.

And I was just re-reading lore, as I do, and I remembered something. The lore book Stolen Intelligence details some of the records made by Ikora's Hidden and other Vanguard agents. Specifically, the page Fragment is what caught my attention. In it, an agent FEN-092 (most likely the one, the only, the man, the legend: Fenchurch Everis) reports a strange incident on the Moon:

2. Around 1900 hours yesterday afternoon, I began to experience a crushing headache and excused myself from patrol to recuperate. Though I originally intended to lay down for a nap, I fell asleep instead, and experienced multiple vivid dreams over the next 11.5 hours. In all of these dreams, I was trying to catch up with agent ERI-223 in a crowd. She was always out of reach, whether by 200 m or 20 m. I had the sense that I needed to speak to her.

3. When I woke, I found that my headache had not improved. I prepared my armor and exited my bivouac to find a single stationary Thrall crouched nearby. It stood as I approached, but made no motion to attack me. I fired one shot, killing it immediately. Upon stepping forward to examine its corpse, I saw a solid black fragment of an unknown material embedded in its chest cavity. The fragment resembled a flake or a shard of some larger object, not dissimilar to a high-gain photovoltaic panel.

ERI-223 is Eris Morn. The fragment was peculiar at the time this was released (Forsaken), but now post-Shadowkeep and post-Beyond Light, we can definitely identify this artifact as a piece of the Pyramid. Fenchurch's Ghost also reports:

5. I requested that my Ghost attempt to contain and transmat the fragment for quarantine on my jumpship. He was unable to establish a Light link with the object, describing the fragment as "slippery" and "tiring" to try to catch hold of.

To me, it is most likely that this is literally a shard of the Pyramid, like those little pieces you can see on Europa when a Pyramid scale ripples. But more important is what follows:

8. At this point, I broke protocol and did not request additional backup. Instead, I picked up the fragment by hand and immediately experienced a vivid hallucination: I stood over VIP #0704's shoulder as she dressed a seven-inch gash on agent ERI-223's thigh. Both #0704 and ERI-223 were dressed for combat. Hundreds of fragments of the unknown material hung in the air around us, apparent shrapnel from the wreckage of a nearby ship of unrecognizable make and model. ERI-223 looked directly toward me and said, "Патетическая."

Obviously none of this made any sort of reasonable sense at the time. But now?

"Hundreds of fragments of the unknown material hung in the air around us, apparent shrapnel from the wreckage of a nearby ship of unrecognizable make and model" is a pretty clear hint at what we now know is a Pyramid ship. Specifically, a wreckage of one.

As we've established, ERI-223 is Eris Morn. Who is VIP #0704? As of now, it is undecided. I've done a bit of a search and most of the guesses are 2 years old and they usually settled on it being Eriana-3 OR Mara Sov. I think it's pretty obvious that it's Mara, if we pair it with the Sleepless lore tab.

But there's another link. The lore book The Dreaming City has a page called Letters. This lore book in general is kinda all over the place and details some lore that doesn't really have a place elsewhere, but it generally revolves around the Awoken and characters adjacent to them. There is a lot about Mara, including information about how Eleusinia and the Oracle Engine were created, as well as her relationship with Riven.

Anyway, in Letters, we see several letters written by Eris to various people, but never delivered. We kinda have to assume a lot here because nothing is explicitly named, but we can for sure say that these letters were written by Eris. To whom? It's up to debate. Some of these seem to be for Mara, one is most certainly for Asher and one is most likely for Ikora. The one I want to focus on is one I can't decide where to place but it features a word we've seen before:

Undelivered, burnt.

Патетическая. The swelling of strong sentiment in your chest even as you mourn the world that is and was and will be. I did not go to Mars. I will not go to the Dreaming City. There is only the plan.

"Патетическая" is Russian and it means "pathetic." I'm thoroughly lost on why this is repeated twice as coming from Eris in two different instances. Truth to Power claims that Eris was born during the Golden Age in Russia, but Stolen Intelligence disproves this. Hm.

Either way, there are several things that seem to fit together in all of this:

1. Destruction of the Pyramid ship (Sleepless, Fragment) 2. Eris and Mara involved with some sort of an ongoing plan (Sleepless, Fragment, Letters) 3. A battle that involves a Pyramid, Eris (who ends up wounded), Mara and Crow (Sleepless, Fragment) 4. Eris saying the same peculiar word seemingly completely out of context (Fragment, Letters)

I want to point out something about the Letters entry. It's not chronological. As in, the entries in that lore page aren't all from the past or current plot from when the lore book was released. Observe the final part of Letters (which released in Forsaken):

Delivered.

I have been inside. I have nothing but beautiful and violent words for my report. I will meet you at your throne.

Lore book Letters from Eris, from Shadowkeep, page Regarding the Pyramid:

[DELIVERED, RECONSTRUCTED.]

It's coming, my Queen.

It's coming for US.

We have been manipulated. We are right where it wants us. The Darkness orchestrated its plan magnificently; the Nightmares were so impeccably calculated to draw us in, make us vulnerable, and leave us exposed.

The Darkness plans to use us. We are to do its bidding. I don't know how to stop it.

I detect no fear on the part of our nemesis. We aren't even a concern. We pose no threat.

The Darkness needs a reason to fear our Light, and I intend to provide it.

I have been inside. I have nothing but beautiful and violent words for my report. I will meet you at your throne.

This makes the entire Letters lore page entirely up for debate.

I believe these entries are connected and that both Fenchurch's hallucination after touching a piece of the Pyramid and Sjur's dream are telling us about the same future event that involves Eris, Mara and a destruction of a Pyramid ship. And I absolutely believe that we will see this at the end of the season, considering there's a downed Pyramid ship in Savathun's throne world. Other connecting details are very confusing for now and may have something to do with Savathun's involvement. After all, she also claims to be interested in fighting back the Black Fleet and ends up in possession of the Pyramid.

[erinprimette]

Shakarian Lyrical Nanoha AU Co-Writer Needed

The premise of this RP/Co-Writer request is Commander Shepard, whom I’m going to name Irene, who is not only the first human Spectre and the Commander of the Systems Alliance, but she also wields the Raising Heart and transforms into a magical girl. Come along as she solves the mystery of the ancient Devices and fights the Reapers.

I’m looking for a co-writer and I want to do so in the form of RP.

I hope to turn this prompt into a fanfic, and I’ll be happy to share credit.

Requirements: - Paragraph RP with at least a couple sentences at a minimum in third POV. - I prefer to RP in DMs be it Tumblr, Twitter, DeviantArt or Discord. - I always share canon characters in RP - You must have some talent in writing action scenes and romance scenes. - You must be mature enough to handle mature content and some dark content. - I’m going to take plenty of diversions from the Mass Effect canon. While I have some in mind, you’re welcome to think of some diversions you think are worth adding. - I’m not that familiar with both the Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha or the Mass Effect universes, so researching about the lore is allowed and encouraged, that way some elements of Lyrical Nanoha can blend in with the Mass Effect universe naturally. - I have a list of Intelligent Devices from Lyrical Nanoha which I assigned to some Mass Effect characters. Let me know if you’re interested in more details.

Timezone: EST (Eastern Time Zone) Grammar: 1 - 10 (1 - Not caring, 10 - grammar Nazi) At least a 7 Times online to RP: It usually depends, so I’ll respond at any chance I get Strong language: I’m ok with strong language as long as you don’t overdo it

Irene Shepard would have the default appearance of female Shepard despite having a unique name. Likewise, her older brother, Ian Shepard, would also have his default appearance.

Name: Irene Shepard Gender: female Preferred Pronouns: She/Her Pre-Service: Colonist Psych Profile: War Hero and Sole Survivor Class: Vanguard Paragon or Renegade: Paragon

Here are the pairings for the crossover I thought of so far:

Irene Shepard/Garrus Vakarian Liara T'Soni/Jack Saren Arterius/Miranda Lawson Kaidan Alenko/Ashley Williams Ian Shepard/Urdnot Wrex Nihlus Kryik/Kelly Chambers Kasumi Goto/Tali'Zorah nar Rayya

But most importantly, if you show interest, please verify your age in a private message first.