#but because he donated those patches of skin to past patients

[blank-barrel]

Another Faust post (featuring color 3).

[ticklikeabomb]

Birth in Reverse - Part 7

Pairing : Plus Size Reader (Y/N & twin sister Nadia) x Avengers ; Y/N x Bucky ; Nadia x Thor

Warnings : Language; Self-harm (kinda) (DO NOT READ THIS IF IT TRIGGERS YOU) ; PTSD ; Lost of Identity ; sadness 

Word Count : 2.3K

Disclaimer : I do not own Marvel nor their concept/story nor their characters. This is only for entertainment purposes. 

Nadia was making her way down to the quinjet, when a clear light shone at the end of one of the corners. Taking the gun out of the holster, she carefully walked to the door and slightly opened it. What she discovered made her body freeze on the spot and her blood boil ; an improvised medical room, with machines plugged at every square, patients laying on tables, lifeless. Every patient had something in common : they were twins. You and Nadia may have been the firsts but clearly not the lasts. Taking in the appearance of the patients/victims, her hands began to shake and rage inflaming her lungs. All of those people dead in vain.  "Nadia?", a whisper came from the door but the only thing she was able to hear was the buzzing of the machines, the horrible memories overflowing her senses. She had one last mission to do for the day, destroy this hell. Letting go off her rage, she began punching the machines with her bare hands, screams burning her throat while tearing the place down. "Nadia, no. Stop", Steve's voice echoed through the room which fueled her rage even more. Bucky stopped his best friend from reaching out to you, knowing she/you needed this. The rage took a turn when the room began to burn. "Nadia, we need to leave", whispered Thor sweetly a few feet from where she stood. His calm voice and posture convinced her in leaving the building. 

The way back to the compound was silent, tension floating over everyone's shoulders. They saw her sit at the far end of the jet, her lifeless gaze plastered in front of her, her bleeding hands calmly on her lap. For a stranger her posture and attitude could be referred as the calm after the storm but the Avengers knew better, each one of them having to deal with their own demons; she was broken, lost in the abyss of her own past, her own rage, knowing there would never be a going back, trapped in a body that wasn't hers, sharing a soul with the person she trusted the most before it all went to hell. The jet landed after what seemed to be hours. Each one of the Avengers gathered their belongings and began to exit the plane, all except Nadia. Sitting at the same position since the beginning of the flight. "Nadia? We're home", whispered Wanda. Her gaze left their initial direction to lock with the Scarlet Witch ones. "There's no such thing as home", were her words, said with so much pain and conviction before standing up and leaving a devastated Wanda behind. She could feel her pain and it was crushing her heart. 

Numbness she made her way automatically to the gym to the punching bag. She needed to feel again, feel in order to let her know that she was real, that she's not some puppet being controlled by a false illusion. She was desperate to feel even if that feeling was pain. She began hitting the bag, the item representing her 'salvation'. Right, left, right left, up, down and the procedure all over again ; every hit harder until she couldn't feel her hands anymore. The only noises being heard in the room was her deep breaths. Silent tears who if they could would elevate in decibels sliding down her cheeks. A hand touched her shoulder and her she stopped, her whole body freezing in place. Turning around she saw Thor. His eyes tainted with pain, devastation but also hope. Hope that he could bring her back, make her feel alive again. No words were exchanged but they communicated through their eyes. Not taking it anymore she fell in a thud on his arms, crying out loud, while he hugged her tightly letting her know he was there to support her. Always. They stayed like that for a good amount of time : her not ready to let go and him ready follow her wish. "I'm sorry", he whispered on the crock of her neck. "For what?", she replied after a while. "I'm sorry you had to go through all of that. For what they made to you." Stepping back to look at him, she implored, "Please don't pity me." 

A small smile crossed his features and he responded, "I've there is on thing that I don't feel about you is pity Lady Nadia. At the contrary, you're one of the strongest women who ever came across my path. Nothing would make me more happy than to call you my Queen someday." Goosebumps crossed her skin, an unknown feeling burning inside her, a good feeling. A promise. "Everything will be alright", commented Thor like he was able to read her mind. "You are the best thing that will happen to me. I know it since I saw you through Y/N's eyes", you confessed truthfully, making him smile brightly. He gently took one of your hands in his and lead you to the medical bay. 

 After Dr Cho patched her up, the mission briefing was on the platter. Not that she was looking forward to it but with Thor by her side she didn't feel so alone. He sat down next to her, Bucky's gaze scrutinizing the pair, his heart aching for Y/N. The team went over the mission with Fury, the man in charge before their eyes turned your way. "Care to explain Miss Y/N?", asked Fury. "I'm Nadia", she simply replied and he gasped a small 'Oh'. "Well Miss Nadia, what happened?" You explained him your side of the story and he nodded. "I admit it wasn't probably the best initiative. You're part of a team now and as a team there can't be loopholes. Communication is key. If there is no communication there is no team if there is no team, than chaos will take over", he explained. "It won't happen again", you told him. "I was informed of your potential reverse of… personality and the best we could do right now is if you have weekly meetings with a specialist. Someone to help you deal with what's going on between you and your sister." "I'm not seeing a shrink !", you counterattacked. "I'm just thinking that -", "I don't care what you think. I'm an ex-Hydra member. It was always kill or get killed, no emotions, no doubts allowed and certainly no asking for help. It's deal with it or die. So no, I'm not seeing a judgmental wannabe friend and talk about what I'm feeling about. I'm perfectly fine", Nadia's voice exclaimed firmly. 

Fury nodded again and stood up but before leaving the room, he turned towards her "Your hands and your eyes say otherwise." She clenched her jaw in anger, knowing she was exposed, vulnerable. Standing up, she made her way out to her room in need for some alone time. Falling on her bed with a long sigh she reached out to Y/N. "You're extremely quiet. What no 'oh Nadia don't. 'Nadia you're the worst, you shouldn't mess with my body.'" But you didn't respond. "Hmm giving me the silent treatment, I see. Fine as you wish." 

The next few days went the same :  Nadia would only make an appearance during dinner times, rushing them because she knew they were slightly uncomfortable with her around, except for Thor and Wanda. She would also spent her time at the gym or on the roof, meditating. During those days she would try to talk to you but again no response and it was beginning to scare her off. It was Friday and she was arriving on the living room when the elevator dinged and Pepper got out of it. Both women tensed and Nadia made the choice to leave when Pepper called after her, "Wait. … Ehm Tony told me everything about you and your sister. How we're related." "Of course he did", replied Nadia. "Don't be mad at him. I saw that something was bothering him and threatened to break that hideous Iron Man poster that he keeps for years if he refused to tell me." You chuckled at her and she joined you, a small smile making it way on her face. "He must really like that poster then", you commented and she rolled her eyes. 

"Don't get me started. Years back when he got it, he sold the art collection I spend weeks putting together and donated it. He called that awful poster 'Art'. Can you believe?", she exclaimed dramatically while widening her eyes. "I surely can", you laughed and so did Pepper. "Are you busy right now?", she asked and you tried to come up with an excuse but was cut by her, "I was just gonna leave some papers but after that I have to go on a shopping spree, look for a dress for a fundraiser. I could use some advice." "Oh, I don't think I'm the best choice for that task, I-" "I could really use some help and I have Tony's credit card", she wiggled her eyebrows. Even though she was still hesitant, Nadia finally agreed to come with her. 

Happy dropped you on what seemed like one of New York's fancy streets with the luxury stores ornamenting it. You followed Pepper's lead without letting your guard down and both of you ended in one of the stores. As soon as you stepped inside, one of the saleswomen approached Pepper and asked her if she needed any help. You rolled your eyes and thought 'We just fucking entered'. "No thank you, I've got all the help in need right here", replied Pepper politely. The saleswoman nodded with a tight smile, looking at you up and down arrogantly, indicating you how you were out of place. You smirked and discreetly showed her one of your knives and her eyes widened, walking at the far end of the store as far as possible from you. Pepper looked at you with a raised eyebrow  and you shrugged, "What?" Shaking her head, she motioned you to the dress section and began going through the dresses. While Pepper was searching for dresses, Nadia stood by her side, her hands in her pockets and laughter caught her attention. "Mom I think I just found it. What do you think?", joyfully exclaimed a teenager. "Oh honey it looks lovely. You gonna be the prettiest girl on prom night." 

A pang of pain cursed through her heart, seeing a type of interaction she would never have. The type of life that was stolen from her and Y/N. Feeling the tears gather on her eyes, she excused herself and went outside to take some fresh air. "Come on man, it's not the time, not the place to show weakness Nadia", she repeated. "Are you ok?", asked Pepper worried. "Yeah I'm good, I'm good", her voice broke slightly. "Have you found something you like?", she asked her aunt. "Nah. Come on let's go check some other stores", she replied and grabbed Nadia's arm affectionally. The ex-Hydra member tensed for a second before relaxing on the unfamiliar gesture. 

A second store later and she still hadn't found the pearl she was looking for. "A third is a lucky charm right?", exclaimed Pepper. You entered the third store and looked around. After a while, the saleswoman approached you. "Welcome. I'm Maria, if you need anything just let me know", she greeted both of you without pushing to far and you liked her vibe. "We're looking for some dresses for a fundraiser", said Pepper. "Alright I'm going to take a look and let you know if I find something appropriated. I just need your sizes." Pepper gave out her size and the woman looked at you. "Oh no I'm just moral support here", replied Nadia. "You should try something out too", commented Pepper. Nadia shook her head and exclaimed, "Nah besides I don't really think they have my size in here. And we're here for you not for me." The saleswoman quickly interfered with a smile, "Dear we have all the sizes you need. Here let me try and find something for you and if you don't like it it's ok. You can just try it for fun." Hesitant but pushed by Pepper, Nadia agreed and exclaimed "For fun then." 

The woman quickly gathered some dresses for you both and send you to the changing rooms. 'This is ridiculous', thought the ex-assassin. "You ready? 1, 2, 3", said Pepper and you both got out of the rooms with dresses on. Pepper's was a creamy orange tone, reminding the color of the sunset while the twin's was purple. "It looks good on you but I tap strict", Nadia told her aunt sincerely. "I agree. You're looks amazing it's the color of your suit." You changed clothes and did the fashion show all over again but this time, she was wearing an emerald colored dress and Nadia's was dark red. "I think we have a lucky winner", exclaimed Pep happily. "I agree." 

The moment came to pay and Pepper insisted for her to take the dress but Nadia refused. Not wanting to argue with her, Pep led it slide and you made your way outside. "Oh I forgot something in the changing room I'll be right back", she mentioned. A minute later she came out with her sunglasses in hand. "Shall we?" "We shall" and Happy drove you back to the compound. When you arrived Pepper walked towards Tony, who was in the living room with the others and greeted him. Nadia was making her way to her room when Pepper reached out to her and hugged her. "Thank you for today, it's was nice. We should do it more often." Trapped in her arms like a dear, Nadia slowly tapped on her back to 'reciprocate' the friendly gesture but feeling awkward. "Sure", she replied faintly. Maybe there was hope, maybe her life was just the beginning. Nadia tried to reach out to you but you still didn't reply and Nadia had a bad feeling creeping over her being. 

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[motherherbivore]

meet me [the business/ticker]

They have an arrangement.

Explicit, 2k words

On AO3

(fortuna spoilers, trans woman ticker, non-gratifying sex)

Ticker came to see him around mid-morning, after the first wave of Tenno had come and gone, early-starters eager to get to work on the Vallis. A few of them lingered, but they were working on kitguns or K-drives, and the Business had more than enough time to see to some of his patients. He was cleaning a partially-healed gash on the leg of a Delicate pobber when Ticker ambled down from her shop to his.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she said. The Business shook his head.

“Of course not. Just some routine care,” he said. “Look at this—she’s been here a day, and she’s already in the last stages of healing. An hour with an Oberon really works miracles on these animals.” He stroked the pobber’s head gently. It was not comforted, and tried to bite his finger.

“Cute,” Ticker mused. Then, “Got time for a quickie, Busy? It’s been a while.”

It had been a while, indeed—they'd both been so preoccupied since the Tenno came. It took a moment for the Business to wrap his head around the idea again. He carefully tightened his grip on the pobber as it tried to wriggle out of his hands.

“Once I finish with our little friend here,” he said, fishing a roll of gauze out of his kit. “Shouldn’t be long.”

“Okay, darling. Will you need a stiffer?”

The Business thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Not if you don’t mind taking the extra few minutes to do it by hand.”

“I don’t mind.” Ticker paused to let a virmink sniff her hand, but it didn’t want to be petted. She straightened up and put her hands in her pockets. “Ten minutes?”

“Make it fifteen,” said the Business, as the pobber squirmed and bit at the bandage he was trying to put on its leg, tearing the gauze.

“Maintenance corridor seven,” Ticker said, and walked away. The Business watched her go, then slowly returned his attention to the pobber.

They’d had the arrangement for years, ever since her husband had come back from the shelves a stranger. The Taxmen had already dissolved the marriage—official records showed them as divorced. Ticker never signed anything, never even knew about it until two years after the fact. It didn’t matter, she’d said. Wouldn’t help anything to argue.

He'd known her before the repo, donated more than his fair share of food and parts to her afterwards. It was Solaris tradition for neighbors and friends to take care of a full-repo's family for the first week, but the Business kept on giving long after that week had passed. Ticker started asking him to stay and talk for a while when he made his deliveries, and they were friends then. As the years went on, he stayed later and later, and sometimes, something would come of those late nights. They'd stop when Ticker had a relationship, but things would inevitably resume between them when a new love ended.

“Doesn't it bother you that you're just her rebound man?” Little Duck asked once.

“Ticker is a dear friend,” the Business replied. “I'm glad to be there for her.” Privately, he thought he was too old for her to take seriously, too damaged by a past he couldn't tell her about. He was perfectly content with a steady friendship and the occasional nighttime visit or operating-hours tryst in an empty maintenance corridor.

Corridor 7 was the least used—nothing important was rooted there, and there were better shortcuts in most of the even-numbered corridors. The Business slipped in unnoticed.

Ticker was sitting on a crate, rig already off and resting next to her, all its cables and tubes unraveled to give her a longer range of motion. Her gloves were off, too, and she had one hand down the front of her pants, idly palming her cock through her thermals as the Business approached. He slowed his pace, just to watch her for a moment—the languid lines of her body, the minute flexes of her arms as she moved. She was utterly relaxed, patiently waiting. Peaceful in a way he hadn’t had the privilege of seeing her in a long time.

She stopped touching herself and stood up when the Business got close enough. “How’s that little pobber?” she asked, reaching for the apron of his rig.

“Sedated, while the medigel works,” said the Business. He disconnected the apron, and Ticker set it aside for him while he undid his belt buckle. He couldn’t remove his entire head-box like she could, so that piece stayed on. “It's a good sign that she's so lively. I’ll release her with the next batch in a few cycles.”

“That’s good,” Ticker said, a little absentmindedly. She pressed herself to him, her groin against his hip, one hand on the small of his back and the other slipping past his belt. The first brush of her fingers against his cock made him tense and tingly at the same time, and for a split second, he wished he had taken the stiffer. But she knew exactly what to do, and made short work of it, rubbing herself against him all the while until they were both nearly peaked.

Then she stepped back, handed him a foil packet of lubricant from her pocket, and leaned over her rig, one forearm braced against the wall. With the other hand she pushed her pants and thermals down her thighs, until the metal seams above her knees were just visible.

“No protection?” the Business asked, as he shoved his pants down to his knees. He kneaded the packet of lubricant between his fingers to warm it a little.

“Forgot it in my other pants’ pockets,” said Ticker. “Just pull out, if you can. I don’t care if you can’t. Worse things have happened.”

“I’ll pull out,” said the Business.

Belatedly, he wondered if he should have done more to prepare her, but with the lubricant he slid in easily, and Ticker gave her cock a long, slow stroke.

“There we go,” she sighed. “Good man.”

“Been having some late nights recently?” the Business asked, his thighs nearly flush against hers before he drew back again.

“Early mornings,” said Ticker. “For the past week. Like my organics suddenly realized how long it’s been since I got any good action. Just been so—” Her breath hitched a little as he thrusted more sharply— “Busy.”

He liked how she said it. He liked how she sounded, and how she moved, he could see the muscles in her biceps flexing and sliding. They weren’t originals, and she barely managed to keep up with the payments, but they were still organic, and so little of her was still organic that she worked like hell to keep the parts that were.

The Business mentally shook himself, trying not to let his thoughts wander too far. He gripped Ticker’s hips, digging his fingers lightly into her skin. Her flesh was synthetically soft, just a little gel-like since she’d gotten it so long ago, before the more natural stuff was affordable. She’d exhausted most of her credits at that point anyway, and for what…

Alright now, old boy, the Business scolded himself. That’s enough of that.

He couldn’t help it. The pleasure of Ticker warm around him faded in and out of the background of his thoughts, thoughts of days past and days to come. Everyone was waiting for Solaris United to move again, but it was hard to follow such a grand revival. Every meeting brought back old memories. Eudico was struggling. The Business worried that too much hope was spreading.

He must have angled himself in a good way then, because Ticker groaned, disrupting his thoughts and bringing him back to the present. Her free hand clenced into a fist and she worked her cock a little faster, loose cables swaying with the motion. Her shirt rode up a little, showing more of her pale skin, and a little bit of the black tattoos on her back. The Business couldn’t resist—he slid his hand up her side, over the warm metal of her cable-ports, over her scars… neat, little lines from Corpus mod surgeries, a ropy keloid where Solaris medics had to fix those mods. There was a patch of burn-roughness from her days on the Vallis.

“Don’t touch that, Busy,” Ticker said. The Business withdrew his hand, putting it back on the crest of her hip.

“Apologies,” he said. Ticker pulled her shirt up farther, exposing her back almost up to her shoulders, so that the Business could see the whole of it.

“You know I don’t mind you looking, darling,” she said, “just don’t touch that one, right?”

Her shoulder blades moved smoothly under her skin as she adjusted her position, and the Business slowed his hips, watching.

“Right,” he said. “I’m sorry, I don’t realize what I’m doing til I’ve done it.”

“S’fine.” Ticker pushed her hips back against him, trying to get some certain angle. “A little faster, would you? I’m getting close—that’s a good man.”

She came quietly, tense and then loose under his hands, her own hand stuttering as she spilled over. The Business stopped moving, then slowly withdrew. Ticker straightened up with another groan.

“Give me just a minute,” she said. She fished a few napkins out of her pockets, and handed the Business two before she set to cleaning herself off, and he wiped the excess lubricant off his cock. The friction didn’t really excite him. Come to think of it, he didn’t feel anywhere close to climax, but he brushed it off. He promised himself he’d pay more attention now.

Ticker pulled her pants back up, snapped the waistband against her hip, then sat down on the crate again and pulled the Business towards her.

He kept waiting for something to happen, for the pleasure to spike out of its plateau and work its way to orgasm, but it just… didn’t. Ticker’s lights blinked silently a few times, but she kept at it. The Business tried to focus, and still nothing.

After ten minutes, the Business gave up. He put a hand on Ticker’s wrist and gently pushed her away.

“Nevermind,” he said. Ticker just stood there for a moment, then wiped her hand on her shirt as the Business pulled his pants back up.

It was quiet for a few minutes while they straightened their clothes and reconnected their rigs. The Business helped Ticker heft her rig back into place and lock the closures, and Ticker held the apron of the Business’s rig while he reattached all the cables and screwed the port connectors back. He still couldn’t afford to upgrade to one of the newer, more compact rig models. No one could.

“Thanks for the favor, Busy,” Ticker said then. She stroked his arm, trailing her fingers down to squeeze his hand. “Sorry I couldn’t do it for you.”

“It’s alright, not your fault. Better than not being able to get it up at all, isn’t it?” The Business readjusted his cables and double-checked the latch on his head-box. His disinterested cock was already soft, like nothing had happened. He didn’t have the energy to feel embarrassed about it. “At least then we didn’t have to stop before we began.”

“Are you feeling okay, though?”

“I’m just fine, Ticker. Don’t worry about me.”

Ticker’s lights blinked, but the Business didn’t hear anything. Then she patted her pockets absentmindedly and said, “Wish I had time for a cigarette. Anyway, you come have supper with me and the old man tonight, yeah darling?”

“I’ll try,” said the Business. “I’ve got nine Tenno on the Vallis today—no way of knowing what they’ll bring me.”

“Fair enough,” said Ticker. “Well, either way, think I could come and keep you company again tonight?”

“You're always welcome in my hab.”

She gave his head-box an affectionate pat, then gathered up the napkins they'd used, and left. The Business stayed there for a few minutes longer before he slipped out of the corridor and went back to work.

[alterautomata-blog]

Recovery - Chapter 1: Inverse Graves (Destiny Fanfic)

AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12621372/chapters/28756220

Trigger Warning: This fic tackles topics such as depression and suicide. If any of this offends you, please avoid it. If you are experiencing any of the above and ignore my warning, please talk to me. My DMs are always open.

“Up here,” Ashe whispered. The Awoken Hunter curled her fingers around the handle of her handcannon, finding herself in a slow stride up the hill. Pellanor-17, another Guardian of similar class followed closely behind her, hugging his cloak to keep it leveled to his person. It was fairly windy on Venus.

In the old Ketch, battered and aged by the taint of battle, they needed to keep their voices down. The possibility of scavengers was absurdly evident, especially for an untouched Fallen ship. There was bound to be something worth scooping up and bringing to Amanda Holiday.

But that wasn’t why the two were back on the Ishtar Sink after all this time.

“How much farther?” Pellanor stopped a moment to garner his breath, occasionally swinging his arm behind him to stop his cloak from flying over his face. He grunted, annoyed that he wasn’t back at the Tower relaxing.

“Oh I’m sorry—do you have plans? Didn’t mean to cut in on your date with that microwave.” She didn’t bother waiting. Ashe continued to climb the hill without him.

“Just don’t like being strung along on these long adventures is all.” Pellanor continued upward. To climb at a quicker pace to catch up with the other Hunter. He made a note to remember that microwave comment as well. “Be considerate of your favorite Exo, will you?”

Ashe scoffed. “My favorite Exo’s back at Tower, probably being yelled at by Zavala on the contrary.”

With a face of sheer disbelief and bewilderment under his helmet, Pellanor stopped in his tracks once again, having cursed himself for opening his mouth. “...Cayde?” He had never sounded so betrayed in his resurrected life. “What the hell does he have that I don’t?”

“A sense of humor.” The Awoken chuckled, having slipped up on some stray debris lying on the ground. As she hit the ground, a bag slipped from behind her cloak and made an audible tink, and began to roll down the hill of the tilted upright Ketch, before Pellanor scooped it up.

“Hey clumsy, you dropped your…” He scrutinized the shape of the bag, the long cylinder shape it made in his hand. He could also hear liquid swish around inside. “...Your bottle. Why do you have this?”

Initially, Ashe had told the other Hunter that there was something of worth in this old Ketch. She knew he’d come if she made any implication that he would be getting something out of coming with her. That’s how typical most Hunters were, especially Gunslingers. Obviously the promise of loot wasn’t true. The Exo could see, by Ashe’s hesitant movements now, that all this was one of her tricks. Did she just plan to drink herself into a stupor inside of a Fallen Ketch? That wasn’t his idea of a good time.

Ashe hadn’t turned to him, only remained still. No words. Nothing.

“Were you just playing around? What the hell was all this about?”

Wordlessly, her hands met with the hem of her cloak’s hood, slipping it off. Then, she began fiddling around with the safety latches of her helmet, undoing them, garnering a somehow satisfying hissing sound before removing it. Ashe let out an audible sigh. Probably because she was cramped in her helmet for too long, or there was relief for her now that everything was on the table. She, in the right mind, could tell Pellanor finally.

The woman of light blue, untouched skin, sleek and short dark blue hair, and piercing light blue eyes turned to her comrade. She was somewhat glad that he didn’t take off his helmet, because she didn’t necessarily look him in the eye. Rather, she was glad didn’t have to.

The Awoken woman’s lips quivered, and she sighed again before speaking. “You ever had the stupid idea to… go back to the place you died? I mean, where you first died—before you were revived as a Guardian?”

Pellanor said nothing. Instead he made a small waving gesture with his hand to keep her talking.

She fidgeted, and absently slid her hood over her head again and began fiddling with the hem.

“To be completely honest, it’s been eating me up inside,” she said. “Told myself, after the Red War... after Ghaul—if we live through it, I’ll come back to Venus and reminisce.”

“Not happily, I assume.”

“What other option do I have? This is… it's the only thing from my old life I have to remember. Everything else is either a recap in the form of a dream, or is just written on paper. And I can’t trust that. I won’t .”

An uncharacteristic silence settled upon the two. Ashe clenched onto her hood as tightly as possible as the Exo stood there patiently. She tried to distract herself with anything in the ship but Pellanor. To refrain from focusing on the visor of that helmet. Never. Never that visor.

There was a low hum from Pellanor, then a nod. “Then let’s get there already.”

Those were the words Ashe was not expecting to hear so simply.

She could feel heat rise in her chest, along with the inability to breathe in short intervals. She felt so tense, yet almost relieved. Perhaps the Exo sympathized with her in some way. He would keep the past where it belonged, usually. But if it helped his friend to gain closure; then so be it.

“Just don’t make this an annual thing, alright? You’re on your own next time,” he joked, giving Ashe a pat on the shoulder as he continued upwards.

Watching him go on ahead of her, she cracked a smile. “Thanks, Pell.”

He kept onwards, pretending he didn’t hear that. But Ashe knew he did. His hearing didn’t die out yet, she thought.

It didn’t take them long to reach the zenith of the Ketch. It was a wide open room, garnered with banners along each wall.

Blue. A white insignia that took the appearance of that a malformed tree, its crooked roots stretched outwards in each direction.

It didn’t take Pellanor long to realize, out of all the Fallen houses, who this Ketch belonged to.

The House of Winter. They were in Simiks-Fel.

Across the room rested the throne. Dressed with spears nestled behind it, along with its sheer size, dwarfing that of a typical humanoid, this was the throne of a Kell. Not just any Kell, though. The one who had mercilessly killed the Awoken in question so long ago. Enslaved her. Did unspeakable things to her.

“Here it is,” the Exo almost mumbled. He said nothing after that. Looking at Ashe, who appeared doleful and downtrodden, he knew something like this was probably hard for her.

Lazily, she slipped her hand under Pellanor’s, scooping the bottle from his grasp and trudged forward. There was a mix of unsureness and exhaustion in her pace the whole way towards the throne. After a silent climb, she plopped down onto the oversized cushions, the alcohol and her gun in hand.

“Its like looking at your own grave,” she mewled elegiacally, peering around. Her illuminated gaze stopped at Pellanor. “Wanna know how it happened?”

“You remember something like that?”

She shook her head. “Was a dream I had.”

“Right,” he said, issuing a bitter chuckle. “Well let’s hear it.”

Ashe settled into the throne and leisurely uncapped the bottle. She gestured to Pellanor, offering him a drink. He refused. It was all hers.

She began to guzzle down the bottle’s contents with a rough swig, wincing as her throat and stomach began to burn. Ashe didn’t drink that often, but for occasions like this, it was a given. When she tried to speak her speech began to slur.

“According to the records the Vestian Outpost so generously donated to me, I was one of Prince Uldren’s Crows—that dick—who happened to be captured. Instead of killing me right away, I had my legs broken so I wouldn’t run or call for help. Every other hour I’d be tortured—shot in non-vital areas, teased with a shock dagger—you name it. And in between those hours, I’d be patched up by one of our medics they also took prisoner.”

It seemed that for every second she would have to recall even a moment that led to her becoming a Guardian, she took a drink, reveling in the alcohol’s sting. Almost like she felt she deserved it. Mara Sov had a knack for casting out Awoken who had become Guardians, like they abandoned their post in death. Not that she would remember any of that to begin with.

“Draksis himself would… the bastard made it a knack to crush me beneath his heel if I showed any ounce of resisting him, breaking what bones remained in my body. I think this lasted for a month. And then, boom.”

Taking off his helmet, Pellanor found a seat somewhere along one of the platforms, watching the Awoken from afar. “ Boom ?”

“Boom.”

Ashe took her handcannon and shoved the barrel into her mouth, then mocked the sound of gunfire. Pellanor appeared visibly concerned with that.

“Shoved a shrapnel launcher in my face,” she said. ”Was during the Reef Wars I think, so Draksis wanted to make an example out of me to Mara. Show her what would happen if she continued to defy the Fallen. I was literally seconds away from death anyway. The medics I mentioned were long dead.”

“So what happened? Where did your Ghost find you?”

“Strung up outside. He told me my body was mangled and rotten. Almost had second thoughts about picking me up.” She chuckled somberly.

The bottle of alcohol, now empty, had rolled off the throne and bounced down the stairs before it, shattering into pieces once it finally reached the ground. Ashe’s movements were loose and haphazard. It didn’t take that much for the intoxication to wash over her.

The Awoken’s eyes glimmered. She peered closely at her handcannon, scrutinizing it. “Something tells me… what if… what if it happens again?”

Pellanor raised a metallic brow. “What are you on about?”

“What if I died here again? Would everything go back to normal? Would I be at the Reef again? Would I be chatting up Mara Sov and giving Uldrin shit? Would all this be just a cruel nightmare I’ll finally wake up from?”

She hiccuped. Her gaze became more forward on the barrel. She didn’t realize it, but it was under her chin.

“No Guardians, no Traveler, no Oryx, no Taken, or SIVA, or Red War. Best of all, no me to fuck everything up…”

Her Ghost appeared before her, watching the Guardian’s quivering hands, her finger inching towards the trigger.

“Ashe?” the little bot called out. “Your heart rate is rising. Are... are you feeling okay?”

It was a moment of stillness. The Ghost was suddenly staring down the barrel now, petrified. “G-Guardian?!”

“All it takes is just two pulls… one for you… and one for me.”

The hammer knocked back and her finger was primed on the trigger. With a slow pull, the cylinder began to turn.

“Ashe!?”

Gunfire echoed in the hull of the Ketch, continuing throughout the rest of the vacant ship.

To his relief, the Ghost was completely unharmed. He couldn’t say the same for his Guardian however. A rose of crimson spread under her chest and dripped carelessly onto the throne. She was aghast. Breathless. Transfixed to see her friend being the one with the smoking gun instead.

She dropped her handcannon, trembling. A look of genuine betrayal found her visage. “Pell…?”

“I’m sorry about this, Ashe. Really I am. But I’m not sorry that I had to do it,” he said grimly. “I’ll pay you back when you sober up. Promise.”

A tear trickled down Ashe’s cheek as she keeled over, staring across the room at Pellanor. She began to sob silently as her body grew cold.

That was the drawback to dying as a Guardian. You’d come back as quickly as you died, but the sheer pain within the process of death remained.

“Asshole…” she muttered before passing away, her body going completely limp.

For these long moments, Pellanor found himself trembling, even after the fact. It wasn’t the thought of him killing his friend that got him—they’ve done that several times in Crucible—it was the idea that a Guardian was suicidal at all. Sure, there were some that would jump off the side of the Tower for kicks, then return good as new. But this was different. Completely different.

“Hold off on resurrection,” he told the Ghost. He probably had never been so relieved to hear that.

Pellanor approached the corpse of his friend and sighed before hefting her over his shoulder.

“We’ll get you the help you need…”

Author’s note: Thank you for reading. As one who is in love with the lore in Destiny, I had always wondered why it doesn’t seem as outwardly grimdark in game while it does in grimoire? 

With the events of the Red War, and the horrors our Guardians have faced in the past, there should most definitely be some kind of mental detriment to all that fighting. I didn’t believe, after losing their light, their home, and many of their own to the Red Legion, that the Guardians wouldn’t feel a thing in the aftermath. Not for a second.